#[though sad to say that he's not exactly a lover of humans either. to all the humans ive interacted with so far hes been so... standoffish.

[lorei-writes]

HC: Warlords having “THE Talk”

x fem!Reader Crack NSFW Premise: It just so happens that you realise your beloved may be lacking in regards to certain knowledge, and decide to talk with him about it. Suitors: Nobunaga, Mitsuhide, Hideyoshi, Mitsunari, Masamune, Ieyasu, Kenshin, Shingen, Sasuke, Yukimura, Kennyo Content Warnings: none*

*- mind the other labels + topic

Nobunaga

He takes it just plain wrong. Not that he is angry, but he certainly is moody, assuming - for whatever reason - that you consider him irresponsible. How dare.

Would having his child be so bad a fate? After all, he’ll need a heir just regardless!... Does this mean you DO NOT want to ever have children?? That could prove to be problematic! What if land fell back into chaos after he’s gone? HE NEEDS TO PREPARE FOR THAT. Why are you telling him only now???

Oh. He misunderstood. He listens to you, but he feels compelled to add you’re not getting any younger.

Still grumpy. He knows how to make children and you should be aware of that. Details? Unimportant. (He will ask about them more after he degrumpifies himself. He isn’t too proud about jumping to conclusions).

Mitsuhide

He listens in carefully and nods along the explanations, stays otherwise silent until you’re done with your lecture.

He points our it’s all future knowledge, and that none of the contraception methods you’ve listed have been invented yet. It’s... a good point. He also adds that the rest is but theory.

He ends up lecturing you on period appropriate (or well, available) methods of contraception. He can’t give much details on some of them, though... Not that you’d wish to know about those particular ones.

You’re lost, confused and less enlightened than you thought you were. Now, how are you supposed to have sex with your lover again? S. O. S., where’s the “FAQ by Time-Travellers for Time-Travellers” when you need it...

Hideyoshi

Focuses on periods. A lot. He wants to know everything about them, and grows a little pale upon realising you’re quite literally shedding tissue during menstruation.

What do you mean future people can have sex without worrying about the pregnancy? He always assumed one only did it when accepting it as a possibility. He misunderstood???

Great. Now he’s terrified of making love to you, because WHAT IF - what if - you get pregnant with his child and don’t want to be in that position?? What next??? He is not ready to become a single dad! (Although... He may have some experience... And his fatherhood may not be the only issue there...)

He copes by asking some of the married maids for advice. He doesn’t like what he hears. He... He needs a moment to process it all, okay?

Mitsunari

Oh, he’s curious. From strictly theoretical standpoint, but he is enthusiastic to learn more about the topic.

He asks questions. A lot of questions. You aren’t necessarily sure how to answer some of them.

He’s a strategist and this clearly is a war against sperm. You will find him scavenging for books on the medicine (merchants - mildly bothered, to say the least). It may last weeks. He NEEDS to invent a strategy. Duh.

Luckily, he forgets about it all when it comes to the actual love-making. You’re honestly very relieved... He... Got TOO enthusiastic with his fool-proofing...

Ieyasu

It’s just a casual conversation. He’s mostly interested in how the modern contraception methods work (as in, the mechanisms of them).

He reckons none of them are quite replicable as things are, though. Regrettably so.

He also asks about deliveries, infant mortality, what do people do in case of lactation problems, etc. Overall, all things early human development and delivery, although you don’t necessarily have much experience with either of those.

He asks if you’re willing to make this risk, since he can’t guarantee you safety as things are. He seems sad about it.

Masamune

Another terrified one, but for different reasons.

Listen, he knows he can pull out just fine (Masamune, no, that’s exactly the point...), and he has one eye, which is plenty enough to understand what needs to be understood about periods. But STDs and STIs?! He knows he slept with his fair share of people, what if he transmitted some??!

It honestly scares you too, so you both go over all the symptoms you are aware of. Seems he’s all right. Once again, your lover is luckier than smarter (at least when it comes to taking very risky risks).

All in all, he actually puts effort into understanding this everything, even with the surrounding theory. He drops being serious eventually, though, and requests a presentation. Hands on.

Kenshin

He both misunderstands you and ends up being terrified.

Misunderstands, because he knows how many times he came inside of you and now he believes you hated it. You must have, right? He NEVER asked! He didn’t know it could get you pregnant!

Terrified, because WHAT IF he for you pregnant?? Against your will?! Deliveries are risky too?? Are you going to die??

Honestly, he avoided women, so he knows next to nothing about any of that. He’s overwhelmed with data and you end up needing several more talks.

Shingen

At first, he mistakes it for a flirting attempts and tries to flirt back at you. After he realises that you’re serious, he listens carefully.

He actually asks whether you’d even want to have children.

Too many sex related stale jokes and puns follow in the next few days... Weeks... Each time he uses a future word, he asks you whether he did so correctly.

He ends up thinking he should give the talk to Yukimura. He goes forward with that. Shingen, no! You’re not his real dad!

Sasuke

[Soon after returning from the future]

He gives YOU a lecture. On historical methods... But also biology, chemistry and physics of sperm. All at once. Sasuke, HOW exactly does your web search history look?

He jumps to kink. Again, Sasuke, was browsing this your hobby? Not that you don’t want the information, BUT YOU DIDN’T EXPECT ACADEMIA STYLE LECTURE ON THE HISTORY OF BONDAGE. (With useful knots for tying down enemies as appending A).

He asks you all about your cycle and vaginal discharge. You don’t know why, but apparently, it allows him to put together a prototype of a fertility calendar.

At the end of the day, NONE OF THIS MATTERS (at least not much), as it turns out he stocked up on condoms and emergency contraception during your last stay in the future. (Honestly, why didn’t you think about it too? ; Yes, he thought you just wanted to talk about the topic for the joy of it).

Yukimura

Gets embarrassed when you bring up the topic. At first he listens to you carefully.

He looses it at the mention of fetishes, ‘outdoor sex’ in particular.

Why do you have to bring up the forest incident?

Ticks can do what??

Embarrassed. Didn’t get any of the theory. He understood some of the practical implications, though. Or so he thinks.

‘Uterus’ = womb = evil organ that he doesn’t have and is happy about it

Kennyo

He tries to understand every word, although it’s somewhat hard at him when you use modern vocabulary. It’s just that... Hormones, the names of them, it’s a lot to take in.

He doesn’t make any scene, but he is a little quiet afterwards. It follows him through the next few days, so you end up asking what’s the matter.

Turns out he misunderstood the point of the talk, but didn’t want to bother you with it or to impose on you.

The truth is... He secretly hoped that maybe one day you’d have a child together. Again, he never voiced this, as he didn’t want to impose anything on you.

He look a tiny bit like a puppy when admitting that.

[dialovers-translations]

Diabolik Lovers LOST EDEN ー Yuma Dark [Prologue]

ー The scene starts in the living room of the Mukami manor

Kou: Hey, hey, Ruki-kun? Can I bring this with me?

Ruki: Kou...Just how many bags are you packing? We’re not going there on holiday. 

Kou: Ehー? But what if it gets stolen while we’re away?

Azusa: Don’t worry, we’ll make sure the place is locked up...

Ruki: Azusa’s right. Perhaps you should go and check whether all doors are properly locked before you get to packing.

Yui: ( ...We’re actually going to the Demon World. )

( I wonder if it’s okay for a human such as myself to tag along...? I’d lie if I said I wasn’t at least a little worried, but my decision was clear from the start. )

( I’ve long decided that I won’t leave Yuma-kun’s side after all. )

Yuma: ...Oi, Yui. Lend me yer ear for a sec.

Yui: What’s wrong?

ー They move closer

On certain CGs, little black roses will appear on the screen. If you click on them, you get an extra line of dialogue.

“When ya say that...It kind of makes me look lame. Like usually the guys says it first, no?”

“Ya really are unbelievable...But well, I guess I don’t dislike that side of yers.”

Yuma: You’ve been keepin’ quiet but...Are ya sure?

Yui: Eh? 

Yuma: You’re actin’ like it’s the most normal thing in the world, but I wanna know if you’re serious ‘bout going to the Demon World.

Sure, Eden might be important to us four but...It’s different for ya.

Yui: ...No, that’s not true. If it’s important to you guys, then it is to me as well. 

Besides, I’ll follow along anywhere. I want to be with you after all. 

Yuma: ...I mean, I figured you’d say somethin’ like that.

But I want ya to properly think this true. The Demon World has never been the safest place ‘round and now shit has really hit the fan.

I honestly have no idea what dangers might be lurkin’ ahead either. To take ya to such a place... 

Yui: You’re worried?

Yuma: ...Ya bet I am. I wouldn’t want anythin’ to happen to ya.

Yui: Thanks, Yuma-kun. But I’ll be okay.

I’ve made up my resolve...And besides, I think that you’ll keep me safe no matter what.

Yuma: ...

Yui: Am I wrong...?

Yuma: ...You’re not.

You’re not but it kind of pisses me off regardless!

*Rustle* 

Yui: Eeh!? W-Why?

Yuma: Ya sound so damn confident. Makes it look like I’m the only shy one.

Yui: ...You’re shy?

Yuma: ...See! Don’t ask me straight to my face like that!

Besides, why ‘you think’? I’ll protect ya for sure!

Yui: ...Fufu, right.

Yuma: Hmph. ...Good.

I’ll keep ya safe. Don’t forget that, no matter what happens.

Yui: Yeah!

( Yuma-kun is always there to protect me. He always has been...and I’m sure he always will be. )

( I can blindly follow him, because I have faith in him. )

*TIMESKIP*

ー The scene shifts to the entrance hall of the Mukami manor

Ruki: Everyone’s ready?

Kou: All goodー

Azusa: I’ve got everything...

Yuma: How ‘bout ya?

Yui: Yeah, I’m good.

Ruki: Let’s go then. ーー To Eden.

ー The scene shifts to the underground waterway

Yui: Hey, can I ask something? What was it like to live at Eden?

Yuma: What is was like? ...Ya know?

Kou: It wasn’t all that unusual. A normal human could comfortably live there as well. 

Ruki: Karlheinz-sama set it up that way.

Yui: Karlheinz-san did...

Ruki: Even though we were not his real sons, he always took us into consideration...

His home...that was Eden. 

Yuma: I mean, obviously it’s gonna be important to us.

Yui: ( Both Yuma-kun and the others truly respect Karlheinz-san. )

( He was a Father figure to them, someone very important. ...But they’ve lost him. )

Ruki: Oi, don’t look so sad just from listening to us. Then you better prepare yourself for what’s to come when you actually come face-to-face with Eden. 

Yui: It’s that bad...? 

Ruki: ...You’ll see when we get there. 

*TIMESKIP*

ー The scene shifts to the outside of Eden

Yui: ...This is...Eden...?

Ruki: ...Exactly.

Kou: It’s completely worn-down. It wasn’t like this at all in the past...

Azusa: The water has become stagnant and the air feels stale as well...

Yuma: The grass and flowers have all withered too. ...Damnit!

Ruki: This Castle shares its soul with its owner. When abandoned by said owner, it is only natural it would fall into ruin like this.

Yuma: ...So it’s that bastard’s fault?

Yui: ( He’s talking about Shuu-san...right? )

( After Karlheinz-san’s passing, Shuu-san was chosen as his successor. So naturally this Castle’s current owner is... )

Yuma: ...He won’t get away with this!

ー Yuma runs off

Yui: Yuma-kun!? Where are you going!? 

Yuma: Isn’t that obvious!? I’m gonna go give him a taste of my fists!

We gotta make sure he gets his shit together or this place will stay like this, right!?

Ruki: Calm down, Yuma. Try to think about it logically. Do you really think things would have gotten this bad if all he needed to motivate him was a hit on the head?

Yuma: ...I mean, ya might not be wrong but...! Ya want to just ignore it then!? 

ー Yuma walks away

Yui: Yuma-kun!

Azusa: Yuma...lost his temper...

Yui: I’ll go after him, okay?

Kou: Hmー.... I think it might be best to leave him alone for now?

Yui: Maybe but...I can’t help but be worried. I’ll go take a quick look.

ー Yui goes after him

Ruki: ...I’d rather she wouldn’t spoil him too much though.

Azusa: Eve is so kind...

ー The scene shifts to the inner courtyard

Yui: ( I’m pretty sure he went this way...Ah, there he is. ...He’s looking after the flowers? )

ー Yui walks up to Yuma

Yui: Yuma-kun.

Yuma: ...What? Did ya come here ‘cause Ruki told ya to? 

Yui: No, I wanted to come, that’s all. Hey, can I help you?

Yuma: ...Do as ya please. 

*Rustle rustle* 

Yui: I didn’t know there was a garden here as well. It really isn’t all that different from the world I know.

Yuma: Guess so. What did ya think it looked like anyway? 

There’s trees and grass in the Demon World as well and we’ve got flowers growin’ here too.

Yuma: ...But look. The soil’s dead over here.

Yui: It was different in the past, right...?

Yuma: Yeah. When we were livin’ here, seeds sprouted overnight and flowers or fruits would grow in no time.

I was shocked at how amazin’ the soil over here is. ...Yet.

Yui: ( I’m sure this garden holds many memories for him. )

( He must be sad to see it completely withered like this...Still. )

Yuma: That fuckin’ NEET...Does he not realize the position he’s in right now!?

Yui: ( I’m also a little sad...that Yuma-kun and Shuu-san are on bad terms. )

( I know the two of them have a long history together. But that’s exactly why I want them to get along. )

Hey, Yuma-kun...Perhaps you should have a proper heart-to-heart with Shuu-san?

Yuma: Aah? 

Yui: It might be Shuu-san’s fault that this place has become like this, but he hasn’t been the heir to the throne for very long.

He might have a lot of things he’s still uncertain about...So maybe we shouldn’t assume he’s been knowingly neglecting his responsibilities. 

Yuma: ...You’re takin’ his side?

Yui: I-I’m not! I just think that maybe Shuu-san has a reasoning of his own...

Yuma: To me that’s basically takin’ his side! Even ya, seriously...!? 

???: What’s this? Fighting all the way over here?

ー A random stranger shows up

Yui: ( A person!? Where did he come from...!? )

*Caw caw caw* 

Yui: ( Also look at all these crows...I’ve never seen this guy before, but could he be an acquaintance of Yuma-kun...? )

Yuma: ...Yui. Hide behind me.

Yui: Eh? Yuma-kun, you don’t know this guy...?

Yuma: I don’t. I can tell that he’s probably a Vampire but...I’ve never seen this guy before. 

Kino: Fufu. Oh come on, no need to be so alert. I’m Kino. Nice to meet you.

Yuma: I don’t give a damn ‘bout yer name! Why are you here at Eden? Do ya have any idea what this place is?

Kino: Of course I do. But I have all the right to be here, don’t you think? I’m also Karlheinz’ son after all.

Yuma: Haah!?

Yui: ( Karlheinz-san’s son!? So he’s the Sakamaki brothers’ sibling then...? )

Yuma: Cut the crap! I’ve never heard a thing ‘bout ya! Stop spoutin’ bullshit lies!

Kino: How rude. It’s not a lie. ...I mean, I guess I can’t blame you for not knowing me. I was never made public after all.

Yuma: Aah? What do ya mean?

Kino: I may be his son, but I am what you’d call an illegitimate child.

Yui: An illegitimate child!?

Kino: Yup. In other words, I’m Prince Zero.

That being said, I don’t recall my Father ever being involved in my upbringing and I have yet to meet my other brothers in person.

I’ve been living in Rotigenberg my whole life. That’s where I was raised amidst the Ghouls.

Yuma: Ghouls, ya say...?

Yui: Yuma-kun, what are Ghouls?

Yuma: That’s what we call creatures who are neither Demon nor human.

Apparently they live at an area up in the North known as Rotigenberg. 

Kino: Fufu, you’re surprisingly nice for a Vampire. Why not just tell her straight up?

To put it simply, Ghouls are not who aren’t qualified to be considered Demons.

They are Demons born without any kind of magic...In other words, faulty goods. That’s what Ghouls are.

Yui: ( Demons without any magic...I had no idea those existed. )

Kino: Well, there’s cases of humans turning into Ghouls after being exposed to the polluted air of the Demon World.

Yuma: Fuck that shit!

If you’re seriously Karlheinz-sama’s son...Then what are ya here for?

Ya came here all the way from Rotigenberg, right? So ya must have had a damn good reason.

Kino: Oh come on, don’t glare at me. I feel like I’ll get hit if I keep on beating around the bush, so I’ll get straight to the point. 

Mukami Yuma. You have a problem with the current Vampire King. Correct?

Yuma: ...So what?

Kino: I’ll fix your problem. So let’s work together?

Yuma: ...Hah?

Kino: I wouldn’t be a bad alley to have, if I may say so myself? After all, I’m pretty strong being a purebred Vampire unlike yourself.

As his son, I’ve also inherited my Father’s ーー Karlheinz’ powers. I don’t see how having me on your side could be a disadvantage. 

Yuma: Hah, ridiculous. I don’t gain anythin’ from it either, do I?

Kino: You think so? But if I were to steal those powers from Shuu and become the successor to the throne, Eden would return to normal?

Yuma: ...!

Yui: ( Steal his powers, don’t tell me he wants to...!? )

Kino: I wouldn’t simply turn a blind eye to it. I’d take my full responsibilities as a King.

You still think my deal doesn’t have any merits? 

Yuma: ...

...I get what you’re tryin’ to say. But listen, ya smell way too fishy, mate. 

Ya really think I’m gonna believe ya just pop out of nowhere as Karlheinz-sama’s hidden love child to form an alliance? 

Kino: Hmm. You’re surprisingly cautious, huh? 

Yuma: Sorry to break it to ya bud, but I only believe the things I see with my very own eyes or what I’m told by my pals whom I can trust.

Kino: ...I see.

Ruki: Yuma!

ー The other Mukamis run up to them

Kino: Oh, this isn’t good.

Azusa: ...? Who’s that...?

Kino: I’ll get going now. See you later, Yuma...Yui.

*Flap flap flap* 

Yuma: ...Che. Creepy fucker. I’m not gonna change my mind no matter how many times he shows up.

Yui: ...?

Crow: ...

Yui: ( There’s a single crow left...It’s staring intently at Yuma? )

Yuma: Whatcha lookin’ at!? Scram already!

*Flap flap flap* 

Yui: Yuma-kun! You’re going to scare it away with your shouting!

Yuma: It’s fine. That wasn’t just a regular old crow.

Yui: Eh? 

Yuma: Ghouls can change into crows. So that one just now was a Ghoul as well. 

Yui: Ghouls...

Ruki: Oi, Yuma. What happened?

Kou: Who was that guy just now? He didn’t struck me as familiar.

Yuma: ...He’sーー

ー Yuma explains to them

Azusa: Karlheinz-sama’s son...?

Kou: A hidden love child, on top of that. You don’t actually believe him, do you, Yuma-kun?

Yuma: Hell nah! I’m not that stupid! ...It’s just.

Ruki: He gave off bad vibes.

Yuma: Yeah. Seems like he’s got connections with the Ghouls as well. ...We’ve got a weird fella on our hands. 

Ruki: ...By the way, how do you feel now?

Yuma: Ah? 

Kou: You stomped off in a fury, remember? Do you feel a bit better now after M-neko-chan comforted you? 

Yuma: Haah!? She didn’t comfort me or anythin’!

Azusa: ...Is that true, Eve?

Yui: I-I’m not sure. I don’t think I did anything special...

Kou: In other words, she doesn’t need to do anything special because just being together is enough to lift your spirits. You’re so simple-minded, Yuma-kun~!

Yuma: Fuck off! Leave me alone!!

ー Yuma walks away

Yui: Ah, again...!

Azusa: This time it’s fine. He’s just trying to hide his embarrassment...

Ruki: We should head back to the Castle as well. With Eden in this state, it’s possible that some weird people like that guy from before could get inside.

Even while here at Eden, it’s dangerous to wander around unprepared. 

Kou: Rogerー Let’s go, M-neko-chan.

Yui: Yeah...

( In the end...What did that Kino guy even want? )

ー She recalls his words

Kino: I wouldn’t simply turn a blind eye to it. I’d take my full responsibilities as a King.

You still think my deal doesn’t have any merits?

Yuma: ...

ー The flashback ends

Yui: ( ...Yuma-kun seemed to hesitate just a bit back then. )

( Of course, I want this place which is important to everyone to go back to normal as well. )

( But I can’t choose that path...if it means Shuu-san needs to die and have his powers taken away from him... )

( Yuma-kun should feel the same way, right? He isn’t the type of guy who’d wish death upon someone else, regardless of how he personally feels about this person. )

( Yeah, I’m sure Yuma-kun will be fine. I believe Shuu-san will eventually get it together as well, even if he’s struggling right now. )

ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー

[jinx-on-mars-19xx]

The Not So Calm Before

⚔️ All Previous Parts Here ⚔️

Dom x Colson (Yungblud x Machine Gun Kelly)

Warnings: future ABO, Big Sad™️, seriously guys- pain ahead, Big Angst, Viking Col, fae Dom, talks of sex slavery, talks of running away, mentions of war, mentions of murder, loss of hope, biting kisses, depressed boys, painful twist ending, slow burn (or is it?) ☠️ Rating: mature ☠️ ideas helped by @iamnotanearthlingmotherfucker 🖤

Kol'son watched the sunrise at the sea's edge after he took his leave from the man destroying his life. His heart was screaming at him to go straight to Dom but his head needed time. He knew he should be spending every second he could with the boy but he had to think through everything that had transpired. He was desperate to see any other way out but there was nothing. Absolutely fucking nothing. The only thing he could think to change was to send his lover away before he could be stolen. He would set his prince free to go off and do whatever else he wished. He'd have to send him along with his fellow fae to… to what? Find someone else to love? Perhaps at least one of them could be happy.

"He needs you. I know you don't have long together but whatever you do have should be spent together. As you're supposed to be." A voice startled him but he was so exhausted he didn't even jump. When Modig stepped closer he barely looked at him. The madman sat next to him and picked at the sand between his feet, making sure he didn't make eye contact with the chieftain. Kol could never handle that. Not when he was feeling so fucking much.

"How do you know?" He asked, his voice rasped from screaming into the abyss of the night for far too long. Of course the gods didn't listen, neither his or his boy's. He knew they didn't exist.

"Know what?" The human was surprised by the seer and he arched a brow as he glanced to him. "Oh, you know. My way." Mod couldn't admit that what he knew was quite possibly far worse than whatever had happened with Harald. He'd spent the last few hours holding the thrall to keep him from panic and he still saw the same thing when he looked at him. The prince was caught between life and death and it was something he'd never seen so strongly before. There was both a pure white light around him, and a freeze of darkness. It scared him to his core.

The Viking shook his head, he'd always fucking hated that answer but he couldn't exactly force anything better out of his brother. The man was lost to madness and the plants of the land, he probably didn't even know how he knew things. "How do I make him leave?" He whispered, Mod was the only person he trusted with his emotions besides Dom. He was the only man he could ever really turn to.

"You explain the truth. Don't lie to him just to make him listen. Sometimes to find what light you deserve you must go through the darkest night first."

"The fuck does that mean?" A sudden and intense fire burned in his stomach and he wanted to lash out but Mod didn't do anything. He wouldn't treat his family terribly because he was unhappy.

"I… I don't know. I see so much and I can't keep it straight. With the two of you especially. Everything feels like I'm staring through mud. I don't believe this is your end but then-" The seer clamped his jaw shut, he couldn't say he felt death on the horizon. That wouldn't help anything. All he could do was suggest his chief do as he felt he needed and hope for the best. He'd always done that, but it felt worse at that moment. He'd come to love the prince too, and his brooding bodyguard wasn't half bad either. He was desperate to stop the pain but he couldn't. "All I know is that you should be with him now. Be careful though, he thinks you wanted him out to spend time with Megna."

Kol caught his friend smirking and he knew he was in trouble. He had a jealous streak when anyone looked twice at Dom but the boy was just as fucking bad. He knew the moment that girl was pawing at him it would be taken wrong but he truly was disgusted by it and he needed love, not an angry wife. Gods he'd been making that joke to himself and he knew it was a broken dream. The fae would never be his wife unless he somehow killed Harald. How did he face his lover and tell him that though?

Mod stood and offered his hand that after a moment Kol took. When the chieftain stood he trembled and the halfling wrapped an arm around him to help him walk back. More than anything the man wanted to be strong for his boy but he was wrecked. There was no strength left in him. Literally every ounce of hope was lost besides making sure his boy escaped and had a wonderful life. "Just… be with him. As you're supposed to be. Whatever that means for you both." The halfling whispers and they both fell quiet after that.

He couldn't make love to Dom now, how could he finally be with him and send him away? He'd never be able to. He felt tears well his eyes from how overwhelmed he was, perhaps it was better they never joined that way, it would keep the heartbreak a little less he hoped. The thought of leaving him pure for someone else though had him accidentally growling. The walk back felt too long but when they finally reached his hut his chest ached. He couldn't make himself go in. Modig completely ignored his slowing steps though and almost picked him up he pushed so hard.

Dom was curled on his side and sleeping fitfully, Tom sitting next to him and petting his hair. Even the fae who seemingly hated him gave him a sad look as he stood and placed a palm on Kol's shoulder. How the fuck did they just all know? Neither of the men said anything else, they just left him to his broken heart and sad thrall. He couldn't fix the pain in his lover though and for a moment all he could do was stare. The door behind him shut carefully but it must have been enough for his anxious fae because Dom woke with a frantic start and called out for him before even looking up to see him there.

"Settle boy. I'm here." He soothed and crumpled to the bed on his knees. Dom surged up, his arms going around his daidí's neck. Kol had been so ready to explain about the bitch but instead he heard-

"I'm sorry. Fuck I didn't mean to ruin every'fin." The boy sobbed against his chest and his emotions threatened to choke him.

"You didn't do anything. I couldn't stand him touching what's m- mine." His voice broke on the word he said all the fucking time. Knowing he only had another day to do so felt like a knife in his heart. His lungs were barely filling. When Dom pulled back and looked up at him with those stunning reflective eyes his pulse raced.

"Tell me. I can 'ear your 'eart. I can taste ya fear Kols. Wha' 'appened?" The fae sniffled and sat back on his fur, pulling the man down next to him.

Kol'son went willingly but he felt sick. How could he tell him? "He won't take anything but submission. I have to- to give him my crown and m-marry her or he'll kill everyone." Spit it out he guessed. Gods he was shaking.

Dom froze, his heart and mind racing as he took his lover's hand and held it tight. "Fine I'll… I'll stay as your-"

"I have to give you up." The words were so quiet Dom barely heard them over the crackling embers of their fire for light but it felt deafening.

"Wha'... Wha' you mean?"

Kol'son had been calling him 'boy' and 'kid' since they met even though he still wasn't sure exactly how old his love was but the fae had never sounded more childlike than the fear that laced his voice in that moment. He forced himself to meet his eyes again, their hands clinging more than holding. "He hates all my father was and since he can't hurt him he wants my happiness. He doesn't care about power or the clan, he doesn't care about shit but breaking me. All because my fucking parents fell in love. He hates me for being theirs."

The selkie's chest hurt, he could barely breathe but at the same time with his daidí there he couldn't fully panic. "Tha' weren't an answer Kols. Tell me."

The Viking took a breath and felt the tears break free and roll down his cheeks. He could see the same in Dom's eyes and he hated being the one to hurt him. "He wants to give you to someone."

"Oh." All the breath escaped the boy. He'd heard about things like that of course but… he was a prince. He wasn't supposed to be traded like so much meat. "We'll run. Come on. We'll pack our fings and go. He can't separate us if we ain't 'ere. I know ya barely even like ya job. We'll jus' grab Mod and Tom and-" Dom felt frantic and he knew he sounded it but Kol stopped him short.

"He'll kill them all. I asked. He wants me to hurt. He wants me to have to tell you that I can't- that I can't protect you. Or any of my people."

Dom choked on a sob and shook his head. He was getting so angry he crawled into his master's lap and gripped his face to make him hold eye contact. "No! You can. You can! We'll go! We can- we- can't we go? Please?"

The sound of his voice was the sound of both their hope leaving. Both their hearts breaking. The siren wanted to lash out but he knew he couldn't, he wouldn't hurt Kol but gods he'd never thought so hard about screaming with his siren voice to see what happened. His claws dug into the Viking's inked skin as he pressed a rough biting kiss to his lips that surprised them both. It was hard to breathe for them both, neither could stop crying but the taste of each other felt like the first soothing balm to a burning pain. "Who?" He whimpered, resting his forehead to Kol's as they breathed each other in.

"I don't know." Kol answered truthfully, shaking his head. "He wouldn't tell me but it doesn't matter. I'm getting you out tomorrow night. He swore we could have the day but the moment he's in bed again you and Tom are leaving. I don't care where to, I just have to know you're safe."

"No! Kol'son no! I can't- we can't- I need you!" His voice was thready as the tears fell faster and he pressed closer until his core slot hard against his lover's cock. For once their bodies didn't react but they both knew it wouldn't be long. They couldn't help it. They were mad for each other and going madder.

"I need you too." The chieftain admitted, his arms going tight around the boy. He held him so tight neither of them could take a deep breath but they couldn't anyway. They were choking on their pain. "I need you. Gods Dom-" Their lips found each other again and when he felt that peony pink tongue flicking over his lips he pushed right back, nicking his lip on those cannibal fangs. Just the thought almost made him laugh. They'd come so far from their first night right where they were. They should be allowed the rest of their lives but that was starting to dwindle to the next twenty four hours. They knew they'd both be dead by the next dawn. Walking husks of who they once were.

"Do you?" The boy asked, pulling back enough to breathe as he took hold of his master's hands and pushed them under the edge of his tunic against his thighs. His lip rolled between his fangs as he panted and fought with himself over all the reasons they shouldn't. He shouldn't ask. But still when his lip slipped free and his lover's gaze dropped to his mouth it shaped the words he'd been begging for so long. "Make love to me?"

Kol could feel his thrall's nerves, they were both shaking, their bodies finally starting to wake up. His cock was filling and it jerked at the question. For days he'd been saying he couldn't until they were free of this war because if they did it would mean they'd lost all hope. When his eyes found Dom's he swallowed hard, his breath trembling in his chest. There was only one answer and he knew with it they were digging their own graves. He just thought at least then they'd be buried together. He'd be buried inside his only true love- at least for a while. "Yes."

Author's Note/Tags: @manicpixiedreamb0y @hollywoodxwhore @jaxbreaker @cole-way-iero28 @iamnotanearthlingmotherfucker 🖤

Please don't hate me? 🥺 I love you. I told you the slow burn might be over soon. I didn't promise it wouldn't hurt. Hope you still like it 🖤☠️

[mile-minute]

So, I never really had a place to share this so here goes… Some background on where A Different Pace came from! (For those out of the loop, ADP is that long Flint/Graham novel up on AO3 HERE )

It all started with this Toon, Soggy Nell, who says this little tidbit in Flint’s taskline…

I thought it was just WILD! So, of course, my mind went to ‘what if she got away with it’. At the same time, as I still had just started playing really, I didn’t know too much about the lore, so I was playing with the idea of the Androids AU where some of the cogs had more human origins. At this point ADP was two stories, the ‘Flint finds Human!Graham’ story and then the ‘Captured Flint’ plot. Part of my creative process is to sketch out little moments, so the very first sketch became this comic integrating that NPC text…

Somewhere along the line Nell got turned into a mouse, but the sentiment remained. Obviously, that didn’t translate directly to the story, but if you’ve read it, you know exactly what scene this is from. And speaking of the taskline, at the time I was in YOTT and reached Winston… what a shock that was! It’s really the first time that the Toons pretty much commit a war crime in response to the Cogs… thus the plot was born. To what extreme can either side justify? How far can they go before a rift forms. The Wizards, in my opinion, crossed that line, and frankly the Suits crossed it a long time ago- something for our not quite so programmed Androids to mull about than act on. Thus, the two stories became one and I realized this thing was growing legs. Many, many legs~

It was almost too perfect… So of course I had to toss some gunk in the gears! The primary of which being a bit of a misunderstanding between Flint and Graham when one of them finally confessed their affection for the other. Of course, the feeling was mutual, but Graham has a way of jumping to conclusions, and Flint tripping over his own words… Cue that visual of Graham standing there, literally bearing it all for Flint, and being let down… He pulls his robe shut, you can see the exact moment his heart breaks, and Flint has NO IDEA how he’s going to fix this. Meanwhile, there might also be an entire Lighthouse in his way!

Art by JamiPurple for me of this moment, it was too good not to have illustrated!

Chip was another character I was immediately fascinated by. I thought he could be a great glimpse into ‘pure’ suit culture and just how self-destructive it was to the Suits, and maybe Flint could help him overcome that, even if just a little… At this point i don’t remember where it originated, but the idea that Chip and Flint are ex-lovers really just catalyzed this plot point, and made it fit in pretty seamlessly with Flint’s own journey of healing after his capture and escape!

Next, let’s talk about the superstar- Graham! I could only keep his ego down for so long, and know he needed some big event to really blossom and show off. Cue the Banquet! While important for the plot, this was also such a fun excuse to dress him up in something fancy!

But, amid all that glitz and glamor, I also wanted to make it PAINFULLY obvious how much of a toll all of this has taken on him, too. He’s a performer, for better or for worse, and he was just at his rock bottom. But, I had plans to make it worse. Plans from his past… The reason for the Android AU- the story of Graham’s rather sad human past, of a man past his prime and in a rough place, unsure of where to go from here…

No, even worse! Skin peeling off his face worse. First though, there needed to be a reason for this! Cue that B-plot with Tipps’ call center. The original outline had that shaking out much differently, but some last minute tweaks filled in a lot of plot holes, and let that little guy shine! Plus, it let me highlight a really unique aspect of this fandom- many of our Toons are Cog sympathizers to a point. Not full turncoats, but willing to work with the bad guys if it means peace.

So that takes us to the final battle, and the rescue squad!

I just thought this looked badass LOL! And am a sucker for a big fight. I really enjoyed writing what a ‘real time’ toon battle may look like, gags flying everywhere and the Suits able to really use their abilities.

Anyways, of course the ending was a bit of a reset of the status quo, it is a MMO after all, but I wanted to give both sides a bit of a ‘win’ so Flint got his safe haven, and the Toons operate a little more democratically now. Oh, and Winston finally got those repairs he needed <3

If you made it this far, thanks for sticking with me, I hope this was a fun bit of insight! More than happy to answer any questions you have about this story, feel free to comment them below if you want :)

[punkpandapatrixk]

☆°・. Tanabata Special .・°☆ | Punk Girl Culture + Pick A Card

Tanabata began as a summer festival in Japan some time during the Edo period (1603-1867). This was one of Japan's many cultural imports from the land of everything cool—China. Seriously, this was a time when everything China did and had seemed fascinating to the Japanese.

Essentially, Tanabata Festival is the equivalent of Valentine's Day in the West as it celebrates the annual reunion of Orihime (weaver princess) and Hikoboshi (cowherd man). Orihime and Hikoboshi are the Japanese names for Vega and Altair—the brightest stars that can be seen facing each other but separated by the ama no gawa ginga (天の川銀河; silver river of the Heavens a.k.a the Milky Way Galaxy) during the summertime.

So like, Ionno who Deneb would be in this tale🙊Maybe Hikoboshi’s dead cow who’s become a Spirit Guide?🐮I’m a fucking criminal🙈

In Chinese, this festival is called Qixi (七夕; seventh evening). The Japanese reading is Tanabata and Korean Chilseok🎋China's sister countries adapted the tradition and made variations to the origin story of the Star-Crossed Lovers—Vega and Altair who were separated by the Milky Way. Chinese folktales typically arrived in Japan through the latter’s relation with Korea at the time. The Korean adaptation had already altered the dynamic of Orihime and Hikoboshi's relationship, as well as the reason they could not stay together, but—

Ngl, I hate the Japanese adaptations—yeah, there’s more than one—so much because they just had to go and add oni (demons) and momotaro-style adventure and then utterly ruin the bittersweet romance. If you didn’t know yet, Japanese folktales always involve oni!👹But… but… the original Chinese tale is so much more lucid and romantic that way!🥵And so you should check out that cool video up there because the PAC for this Tanabata Special is aenergetically resonant with the original cosmic tale🧝🏻‍♀️🌌🧝🏻‍♂️Yeah, it’s kinda a sad story when all things are considered, though; because—

The seventh evening of the seventh month is the only time of the year the lovebirds are allowed to meet by mandate of the Queen Mother of the Jade Emperor. The reason being, racism or deiteism or something hahah🥲Orihime was a deity and Hikoboshi was a mortal; that said, their relationship was scandalous😝Wow, when you really think about it, the Korean and Japanese adaptations actually managed to disregard the racism deiteism altogether and changed it into something more of a cautionary tale LMAO Anyway—

If on the day of Tanabata it rains, people usually say Orihime and Hikoboshi aren’t able to meet that year☔️But yo, I've got to wonder: isn’t it only mortal Hikoboshi who suffers in this story because he has to wait year after year to meet Orihime, just for a day? For Orihime who lives in the Heavens, she literally waits for only a DAY!🤯

Spirits/guides/deities/angels/higher selves/whatever the fuck do not know (or seem to care) the sorrows of being Human, darn it🤬

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Okay so, I’m not sure how Tanabata is celebrated exactly in China and Korea, but in Japan it’s the wish-making through the use of tanzaku that’s the centre of Tanabata’s dreamy romanticism. -Am I the only one who thinks that?-

On a strip of tanzaku (短冊; thin rectangular strip of colourful paper used for writing a poem) people write their wishes for the remaining of the year and hang that wish on the branch of a bamboo tree🎋FYI, due to discrepancies between solar and lunar calendars, Tanabata is celebrated on either 7th of July or August, depending on locality🗾All kinds of wishes are welcome when it’s Tanabata🍮Another name for Tanabata Festival is Hoshi Matsuri (星祭り; Star Festival) so put up your wish upon a star, actually, two stars this Summer~🌠

With this spirit of festivity, my wish is for everybody who finds this post, or more specifically, those who usually find resonance with PunkPandaPatrixk's readings, to quickly, effortlessly, divinely, magically rendezvous and reunite with their cosmic lovers this year~💖Of course, there are those that are still too young to be in a real committed relationship with their future spouses, nevertheless, I wish that at the very least your energetic vibrations call to each other and awaken you to a higher level of self-discovery as well as development. That way, the story leading towards your destined reunion can already be written starting now✨💫📙

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Every year on Tanabata, Orihime and Hikoboshi meet near the Milky Way, but the silver river is so wide that the lovers find it impossible to cross. A bunch of magpies and crows took pity on their predicament and decided to band together to create a massive bridge of birds so Orihime and Hikoboshi get to spend an entire day picnicking in the sky🍱hahah

The story of Orihime and Hikoboshi is one of true love, but for me personally, also of destined Soulmate Mission on Earth. Orihime being a deity from the Heavens (higher realms of existence) was an advanced soul—practically an extraterrestrial—who taught Humans all kinds of Arts for the betterment of their livelihood. She also beautified Hikoboshi’s lonely life on Earth (his cow died, okay?!) On top of that, her relationship with a mere mortal (who was in every way loyal, kind, nurturing and gentle) was also seen as taboo and disgraceful, thus the forced separation. However, in spite of social class(?), race(?), distance, differences, and punishment, both deity and mortal remained in love with each other with unwavering devotion💞

And that is the part that seems to have been omitted by the Korean and Japanese adaptations altogether🤦🏻‍♀️Listen to me, you punks, in Asia, a man like Hikoboshi is a gem because like 90% of the time Asian men are innately disrespectful or violent towards women!🧙🏻‍♀️Okay, fine, 80%!🙄I—

To commemorate Orihime and Hikoboshi’s meeting wrapped in this tearjerkingly epic summer cosmic energy, [Destined Person’s Spiritual Assistance in Your Personal Development] PAC is now open to the public. Actually, I had planned this the very moment I wrapped up the PAC as your cosmic connection with your Destined Person had got me thinking of Orihime and Hikoboshi for reasons that are hard to verbalise🙊

Messages in the bonus content are touchingly empowering (Pile 3’s entire message was already public from the beginning) and I hope many of you get to read them—especially if you have resonated with Pile 1 before! Not even ashamed I’m sounding biased💁🏻‍♀️So please enjoy🌷

[Destined Person’s Spiritual Assistance in Your Personal Development]

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

As for my loyal Patrons~~~✨🌌🐮or anybody who’s interested in becoming one now~~~😉

[What’s Your Love Story Written in the Stars?]

Tier 3 Patrons~🌷I've teased this since last month in Oracle Alchemy posts, so you know already what to expect💐But before you transport yourself to the PAC, I've got a crazy essay about the cards on the bottom of the tarot deck.

As you can see, on the bottom of the deck is the IV Emperor, whose presence I thought represents the mandate of either the Queen Mother or the Jade Emperor himself (in the Korean and Japanese adaptations the latter is the main figure of authority who separated Orihime from Hikoboshi.)

Being so lazy, I don't always check other cards that come under a deck bottom, but when I do it's usually for very cosmic reasons. And I kid you the fuck not! Look at those 3 cards that come right under the IV Emperor! In that order exactly!

Tell me if you don't see Orihime and Hikoboshi meeting each other on the bridge of magpies and crows! And the synchronous element? This is the suit of Swords—telling me of Orihime and Hikoboshi's strong characters that drive them to fight for their union. Also, the fact that they are each other's Soul Mates—they are each other's perfect equal—respect between them comes naturally as they acknowledge each other’s Divinity👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨

If only you'd know how long it took me to calm down from freaking out—I'd never pulled out cards like this before. And if you had the audacity to suspect that I handpicked these cards myself— I wouldn't blame you at all!🤣🤣What even is this?!🤯

Lastly, the whole time I was shuffling and preparing the cards, this song Uchuu-hikoushi no Uta (Song of the Astronaut) was playing in the background. My entire Life, I never really understood what this song is about—the lyrics are strange, but the opening and ending lines are my favourite as they touch my heart in a strange, inexplicable fashion:

I had the strangest dream/in it I was an astronaut and you a farmer/you sent me off wearing your straw hat/and I flew into the sky in good spirit

a present for you—a fragment of Mars/it's nothing, really, but it's a fragment of the Universe nonetheless

🥺🌌🥺

The myth goes to say that every time Orihime returns to the Heavens, the couple shed tears for being sorrowful of the parting, and those tears signify the beginning of the monsoon season AHAHAHAHAH

Well, enjoy your exclusive PAC and lastly, lastly, thank you always for your generous patronage that's allowed me to come this far~🧋✨🍪Happy Tanabata~🎋💫

[What’s Your Love Story Written in the Stars?]

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Feel free to support me on Patreon if you love this kind of content🍑I create stories and tarot readings that calm the mind & heal from within🍒

[Back to Masterlist]

[morewyckedthanyou]

7, 15, 20 for the fandom ask meme

Thanks for the ask! 😊

Putting these under a readmore because it got long.

7. your favorite tropes to read/write/draw

Depends on whether I'm reading or writing myself, though there is some overlap. In both I often (or almost always) go for hurt/comfort and mutual pining as well as either friends to lovers or enemies to lovers. Also canon divergence/fix-it fics when I'm disappointed in canon, which is often. I have also written one fic that involves bed sharing and it is a real good if also very cliché trope that I do wanna write more, actually.

When just reading, I also go for stuff such as amnesia fics, soulmates, arranged marriage, fake dating and when feeling like I wanna read some less wholesome stuff, maybe even sex pollen or fuck or die-fics. Star Trek-fandom got me into those years ago, not gonna lie. 😆

15. the character that always makes you smile

In my most recent fandom which is Pillars of Eternity, I'll say Kana Rua because he's just such a wholesome companion and nothing about him makes me sad at all. I love many other characters in those games too... but most have tragic backstories that I really can't think too much or my smile will turn into a frown.

Thinking about other fandoms though, I'm gonna say Klinger, Trapper and Henry from Mash - also Mulcahy in most episodes at least.

Definitely Richie from the 1990 IT-miniseries.

Unfortunately now that I come to think of it, many of my favourite characters in many of my favourite fandoms, no matter how much I love them and all that, still can't make me genuinely smile in happiness because of how disastrous they are as human beings, because of their horrible traumatic pasts or a combination of several factors. So while I enjoy them and love them, they are not exactly "feelgood" characters. 😅

20. your very first fandom!

Depends on how I'm looking at it.

If we're talking about the first piece of media that I wrote fanfiction about, then it's The Vampire Chronicles by Anne Rice. Yes, really. 😅 But I only wrote for myself and never published it anywhere and I didn't even know fanfiction is a thing other people write or what fandoms really are. I was 14.

If we are talking about reading fanfiction, then maybe Harry Potter because I am pretty certain that that's the first fandom that I ever actively searched and read fanfics about.

However, the first fics that I ever wrote and actually published as well were about the j-rock band Dir en grey. So in that sense that is the first fandom that I truly very actively participated in.

✨ love your fandom asks ✨ 

[chartedworlds-blog]

HC: REPUTATION

It has occurred to me I never wrote about the impact Valathaan’s love for Gwendolen, a human, and indeed, his relationship with humans in all, had on him and how he is viewed and accepted. Given the less-than-amicable relationship between the two races--the Aen Seidhe (elves) and the dh’oine (Man)--I thought it important to note.

Valathaan is not always regarded in a positive light. 

When he fell for Gwendolen, it was still when the two races were relatively unknown to each other--they knew of each other, but largely kept to themselves. The Aen Seidhe saw Men as barbaric and violent, even likened them to apes. When Valathaan fell for one? It was something of an outrage. When the elven massacre of Loc Muinne happened, though, and he ran off with her, that “frowned upon” turned into a barrel of salt to an open wound. 

And who’s to blame them for that negative opinion when (1) the Aen Seidhe already had poor opinions of Man; (2) the elves of Loc Muinne were murdered even though, a few years back, the sorcerers/sorceresses among them had taken human children in as students; (3) their kind were being killed wholesale, to extinction, despite having educated Men and giving them technologies; and (4) as the centuries rolled on, more and more of their cities fell, taken by the greed of Men. Valathaan having chosen to run off with a human was seen as having turned his back on them. He was even aware of this, and it was for this reason he did not return to his home even after she’d passed.

But, sure, there was some saving grace. Valathaan did return to fight beside his people in the sacking of Aedd Gynvael. Valathaan ferried survivors to Dol Blathanna, one of the last free elven refuges, and even roamed the land leading non-humans to safe havens and warning them of nearby human settlements.

That wasn’t enough, however. And soon, those who forgot his past would be quickly reminded of it.

When the story of Lara Dorren spread, like a wildfire the hatred between man and elves erupted into an all-out war. In the story, it is said that Cregennan of Lod, a human mage, was murdered for having an elven lover, and when Lara pleaded for the life of their unborn child, she was cut down by humans and left to die, bleeding on a snowy hill. She reserved whatever strength she had to give birth. Then perished. Of course, the dh’oine tell a different tale that paint themselves in a more favorable light, but regardless, this point in history fueled a hostility between the two races that only reminded Valathaan’s people of his relationship with a human. In Dol Blathanna and the Blue Mountains, often times, he was ignored or openly spurned. He was insulted, and to some, an outcast. Others disregarded him enough that when he suggested they leave the mountains for more fertile lands, they thought never to follow a lover of humans. In fact, in contempt, they even suggested he be kicked out to live among the bloodthirsty race of Man. He was fortunate, though, because had he been ousted and his relationship exposed to the dh'oine, he would have been persecuted. Executed. The rejection, scorn and harassment from some of his own people, he could at least survive.

In the opinion of the Scoia’tael and young elves inclined to join the Scoia’tael, he’s not with them, but with Man. That fact that he still wears Gwendolen's hair comb every day is seen as a testament to that. The fact that he pleaded with them not to fight alongside Aelirenn was regarded as defending the dh’oine. The fact that he decided to live in Caed Myrkvid beside druids, many of them human, further cemented their belief, and the fact that he even aids lost or wounded humans and considers any of them “innocent” is blasphemous. Of course, his open disapproval of the Scoia’tael doesn’t earn him any of their good grace. Many even regard him as "just as bad."

To plenty of his kind, Valathaan is redeemed because of all he’s done for them. His human love was long, long in the past, and it seems inconsequential. To others, however, with an undeniable hate for Man, he is not. They spurn him for his relationship, detest that he “chose” a dh’oine over them, and hate that even after all these years, he still so visibly loves her and doesn’t find shame in it. Some even refuse to listen to any of his advice or teachings. However he is viewed, though, there is always the thought that he did sleep with a human...

To his credit? At least he never had a child with her.

Whatever one thinks of him, his reputation and history cannot be denied. 

[chokingonpaper]

Ohla Bola, how are you today? I come bearing a request; ej, with a "kidnapped" s/o, but they went willingly, because they are a monster lover, and who would pass up the opportunity to be with that hunk of a demon 🥵 (I know I wouldnt). So the gist of it is, they are compliant, they know exactly what is going on, manipulation wise, dont care because they are finally being loved (emotional distant parents maybe?) And fully reciprocate the affections and obsessions that ej has for them. (Maybe they see it as the only way they will ever find true love?)

If this is possible? Many thanks adieu

Im doing good, and of course! Again, I might make a part two :D This ended up kind of being the prologue for how this would go in the future ig- If I make a part two it’ll be more about the kidnapping and stuff like that

Also happy 100 posts!

//

𝐍𝐨 𝐋𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐀𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞 (𝐄𝐉 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

//

1,390 words

//

You had always been a lonely person. Often times people avoided you, and the people that decided to stick around always seemed to fade away sooner or later.

You lived at the edge of your neighborhood with most of your house concealed by large, dark trees. The community was always planning things and arranging little parties, but you never went. It wasn’t entirely other people’s fault that you were alone, you just weren’t that interested in other people. Though a part of you yearned for a friend, someone that understood you and wouldn’t leave at only a moments notice. But that person hadn’t arrived yet, and you had given up hope that they ever would.

Life was dull, and every morning you woke up you wondered if anything would ever change. Every day was the same. Wake up, go to work, get home, and sleep. Then it’d repeat over, and over, and over again. Every time you came home you found your house empty, and you were once again reminded of how alone you were.

But then one day you felt the strange feeling of eyes on your back. Not having very many friends, you often spent your time observing rather than socializing. You knew this feeling very well, and you knew that you were being watched. Yet along with this unnerving feeling, you felt a rush you’d never experienced before. You weren’t alone, and for whatever reason you were okay with that.

Whenever you walked through the kitchen, you felt eyes trailing you from your windows. You didn’t know who the person was or why they were watching you. You hadn’t even managed to catch a glimpse of them yet.

Whenever you got ready for work and headed out the door, you felt the same thing. Even when you were at work, you swore you could still feel their presence. A part of you wondered if you had just made this person up, just to make you feel less alone. By the other part of you wondered if you were in danger. If this was real, you had a stalker on your hands, and you had no idea who it could be.

It could be a coworker, an old employer, or even just a passing customer. Their identity was completely unknown, and you spent hours pondering who they could possibly be and what they looked like. But they were good at hiding themselves, and you hadn’t even seen a shadow.

Weeks passed and you began to tell yourself that it was all in your head, but then knocking came. It was almost like it was to reassure you that they were there, that they hadn’t left, and that they were anything but imaginary.

The first time it happened you nearly jumped out of your chair, but as time passed and the little knocks and taps continued, they became almost comforting. You weren’t supposed to feel at peace when you had a stalker, but it’d been so long and they hadn’t hurt you yet, so who’s to say they ever would? They might just be an observer, like you.

But soon enough just observing wasn’t good enough for them. It had been over a month, and now Jack wanted a little more than just standing to the side and watching your life as if it were a movie. He wanted to be around you, to hold you, to be the one to take you away from your loneliness. He knew how little you went out besides when you had to work, and he knew how much you wanted someone to talk to and spend time with. He’d seen you watch groups of friends with envy, wondering what it was like to be so close to someone. He’d seen you lie on your back staring up at the ceiling, feeling so empty that you couldn’t even cry. Jack had seen you stare out the window where he stood only a moment ago with eyes full of desperation, silently begging him to reveal himself.

He knew you, and he wanted to take you away from everything you disliked about the world.

So the next time you looked out the window with a sad sigh, he decided to try something he’d never even thought to do before. Jack slowly stepped out of the shadows and in front of your window, finally allowing you to see the dark figure who had been watching you nearly every hour of every day.

Your eyes widened in pure shock and you froze, just studying the man who had presented himself to you.

He was tall, several inches above six feet. His physique was impressive, with broad shoulders and muscular arms. Though he was at a distance, you could tell how much he towered over you. He stood still, holding eye contact with you and staring you down with an intense gaze. Anyone could see that this man wasn’t someone to be messed with, and it was already clear to you that you weren’t getting out of this one.

But even if you could, would you want to?

Then suddenly he was no longer still, and his noticeably large hands reached for the window. The window was locked, but you guessed he already knew this. This was was a stranger who had been stalking you for a little over a month. You had never seen him before, and you knew damn well that if he got into your home he could overpower you with ease. Yet as your heart beat faster, pounding loudly in your chest, you hesitantly stepped towards the window.

A small sliding lock was the only thing keeping the man out, though you could guess he had other ways of getting in if he needed to. After all, the windows weren’t bullet-proof.

You gulped down a lump of nervousness and placed your shaking hand over the lock. The man, Jack, watched with interest as you slowly unlocked it, giving him access to your home, and to you.

Why were you doing this? Why were you letting him in? You were unlike any human he’d ever encountered before, and that only made his desire to keep you for himself grow.

Not doing anything more than unlocking it, you backed away from the window as the man pushed it open and climbed inside. Once he stood at his full height you looked up at him in awe. Covering his face was a navy blue mask that dripped black from the eyes. It sent a chill down your spine and froze you in place. Now that he was closer it was only more obvious just how strong he was. He was so much taller than you and obviously very strong. He was the definition of intimidating, and if you weren’t frozen in place you would have crumbled to the ground.

The two of you stared at each other in silence for what felt like hours, but then he took a step forward and your eyes widened.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” His voice came out less comforting than you would have liked. It was deep and incredibly raspy, as if he hadn’t spoken in weeks.

You nodded slowly, his words not really making you feel any safer. “W-Who are you?” You asked in a tone only a bit above a whisper. It was clear that you were afraid, yet you made no attempt to leave.

“I’m Jack.” He answered simply, not offering any more information that could help you understand what exactly was going on. You had just let your stalker into your home, and now you were having a semi-calm conversation with him.

Jack soon took another step towards you, and now only about a foot was between you.

“I’m going to take you with me. Either cooperate, or I’ll knock you out. Understand?” He stated lowly, staring down at you with complete seriousness. You were about to be kidnapped, but instead of fear you felt almost… relieved. Someone wanted you. Someone wanted you so badly that they were going to simply take you. It sounded so wrong, so terrifying, yet all you could think about was how you would no longer be alone.

And so you nodded, letting him silently lead you out of your house and into the tree line from which you would never emerge from again.

[merakiui]

hii could we get an angsty scenario/hcs of xiao and scaramouche/any characters you prefer! who are basically head over heels for someone but that person keeps getting with the wrong people and constantly getting their heart broken? Preferably with a good/fluffy ending but it’s up to you!

cw: angst + heartbreak  note - decided to go for scenarios! (❁´▽`❁)*✲ﾟ*

[Xiao] 

One Call Away—

The sudden shout of his name had brought him out into the open, where he finds you sitting in a field of wildflowers, your head hung and quiet sobs racking your hunched form.

“You called?” The gruffness in his voice startles you and your head snaps up. He notices your pained expression and the tears that refuse to cease, and it gives birth to a strange feeling within his chest. “What happened? Surely I am not too late.” And then he shakes his head. “No, I’m never late.”

“Ah... I’m sorry.” You sniffle, pitifully rubbing at your eyes. “I guess your name slipped out. I didn’t mean to bother you. I just didn’t mean to call for you either.”

Xiao raises a brow and then surveys the surrounding area. “Well, it doesn’t look like you’re in any mortal peril. In that case, I’ll leave you to—”

“No!”

Your sudden shout startles the both of you, with you drawing back and Xiao’s eyes widening ever so slightly. He wonders why you’re crying when beautiful scenery surrounds you. Are you truly that pathetic? Are mortals usually this weak-hearted? Xiao can’t wrap his head around the idea of grief; he’s an immortal who has seen plenty of hazardous scenarios worth grieving over. Yet with the passage of time he has learned to let such emotions drift away on a wind current. Emotions are useless to an adeptus.

But now he’s stuck with them.

“No?”

“D-Don’t go...” Your voice wobbles and you wipe at your reddened eyes. “I don’t want to bother you, but could you stay here with me? For a little while, at least. It’s all I’ll ask...”

He feels like he should decline your desperate plea before it spreads its perplexing roots throughout his system. The words are practically on the tip of his tongue and he struggles to verbalize them. If he could, he’d shake his head and vanish from your sight. There’s something about your expression that forces him to stay, and he truly detests the way his emotions run wild at the prospect of something he can’t quite comprehend.

“Fine.”

And so Xiao listens to you. It’s something he does best; his eyes and ears are open as he gives you his full, undivided attention. Half of him observes your reactions as you explain what happened and the other half zeros in on the way your subtle hand motions. While he might not be anywhere near a cupid—and he would never be caught giving out relationship advice to mortals, which is something he couldn’t do even if he tried—he is still a being of immense power. From what he’s able to understand from your explanation, your loved one decided to part from you because they believed it just wasn’t working. And you, having been struck with an immense sadness, failed to call out to them to clear up any misunderstandings.

Eventually, after internally wrestling with his own thoughts and feelings, he asks, “Do you want me to teach them a lesson? Should you need them to feel the same amount of despair you’re feeling—”

“Oh, no! No. No. They don’t deserve to be punished for that. I understand now that our feelings weren’t the same. We really weren’t working and that’s okay. It just...hurts.”

Xiao tilts his head, an innocently childish show of confusion. “Where?”

“It’s not a physical pain, Xiao. I mean, it could be. But...this is more emotional.” Your hand reaches out, fingers wrapping around his wrist. He stares down at your hand and he almost pulls away. Before he can even consider what’s happening, you’re guiding his hand to where your heart is. “In here. It hurts now, but I’ll overcome it eventually. I’m used to it anyways...”

The straight-faced adeptus remains still as he feels the fast-paced beat of your heart. Mortals have always been weak in his eyes: feeble beings who break at the slightest inconvenience. Although you don’t seem close to shattering and that confuses him more than he’d like to admit. Perhaps you are one of the more resilient humans he’s come across in recent years. It’s strange when he feels your heartbeat, so very certain and alive with the sour feelings a heartbreak brings. He’s never understood that either. Heartbreaks and relationships. The differences between friendship and romance. Both can be seen through to the very end, if fostered healthily.

So then why are you so sad?

Truthfully, you’ve always seemed sad to Xiao. As an adeptus, he’s never been able to fully grasp the meaning behind human emotions. They’re insignificant in his eyes, mere flashes of feeling that can hurt and blind. They’re troublesome and useless—certainly not something he would ever want to experience. But those emotions can heal and bring cheer. They’re not all entirely bad, nor are they as evil as he seems to think they are.

Xiao realizes his hand has been on your chest for a while now and he’s been staring at you so much that you’ve begun to shrink away, partially embarrassed to have him analyze you with so much scrutiny.

“Is...something wrong?”

He shakes his head slowly at first before retracting his arm. And then he notices you’ve stopped crying. He’s not sure when this happened, but he’s oddly relieved to see your neutral expression. Somehow your crying face is painful and it wounds him in a way he never would have imagined.

“Thank you for listening to my rant. I know this is probably meaningless to you, since you’re an adeptus and all, but it really means a lot. So I’m glad I was able to get these things off my chest. I feel a lot lighter now.”

“You’re not sad?”

“Ah. Well...” Your gaze flickers, eyes darting to and fro while you struggle to look at him. “I’m still sad, but I’ll get over it! Don’t worry! I’m resilient!”

Xiao’s brow furrows in confusion. As he has thought plenty of times before, mortals are far too complex. Eventually he sighs and says, “It’s okay to cry. Don’t keep that inside, okay? You’ll just hurt yourself even more.” Now he’s avoiding your gaze and there’s a barely noticeable tinge of pink dusting his pale cheeks. He’s really not good at consoling humans.

“Oh, Xiao.” You pull him in for a hug and he stiffens, trying to squeeze out of your arms like a cat near water. But then he feels your fingers digging into his arm and he realizes that you might actually need this hug. Despite the fact that he’s not used to freely giving out hugs—or even cheering up mortals, for that matter—he is definitely out of his element. “Really, thank you. I promise to make you an Almond Tofu as thanks.”

“There’s no need for that.” Hesitantly, as if he’s worried he’ll break you, he wraps his arms around your form. “I’m just helping you because you called my name. That’s all.”

But that’s not the full truth. Hidden in those words is the real reason why he even bothered to stay despite the false alarm. And it worries Xiao when he thinks about the implications. He really does like you and this admiration has surpassed platonic love. As long as you’re okay, though, he’ll swallow his feelings in favor of making sure you’re always happy. It’s one of his duties as your friend.

Friend. A word Xiao never thought he’d ever use, but it feels nice. He likes it.

Yet The Distance Remains Harrowing.

[Scaramouche] 

To Mend a Broken Heart—

You’re spilling your emotional guts in front of the Sixth of the Fatui Harbingers, tears freely running down your cheeks like two faulty water faucets. It’s a pathetic sight, really. Scaramouche witnessed this exact show just a few weeks ago when you were so certain that that fisher was the one. Now, after meeting and getting together with someone else for a short time, you’ve come out of yet another relationship, unhappy and unsatisfied.

He’s jealous. There’s no denying the envy he feels when you talk so highly of these people and then wail about them a few days later. It’s a vicious cycle of mending a fragile heart and then breaking it into pieces all over again. With no end in sight, you fall victim to your own demise in the pursuit of love. He wonders if you’ll ever learn to choose your next partner carefully rather than settling for anything with a pulse.

“This is exactly what I said would happen, was it not?” he says with a sigh. “Oh, woe is you. If you were smarter, this last relationship might have lasted longer.”

“That’s rich coming from you. I’ve never seen you in a relationship before,” you mutter, wiping angrily at your eyes. His eyelid twitches at the not-so-subtle jab. “Ugh!I hate being so unlucky! This is the worst.”

“Rather than your foul luck, I think the problem lies within you and your taste in partners.”

Sniffling, you lower your head onto the table, hoping to just melt into the crafted wood before you end up making even more of a fool out of yourself. It’s rare to be in the company of Scaramouche, considering how often he’s assigned missions that require swift travel and a covert profile. But whenever you do find yourself sitting across from him, indulging in light snacks and tea, it’s always because you’ve lost your latest lover; and your own sadness requires the nullifying effects of Scaramouche’s cynicism.

“They’re good people! I just don’t know why it never works out. We’re happy and we both like each other—it doesn’t make any sense. Am I missing something? Is it my fault? They probably got tired of me because I’m not a good person.“

“Perhaps.” He takes a moment to sip his tea and you muster a weak glare. Only Scaramouche can delight in his beverage while you’re holding back another onslaught of tears. “Your crocodile tears are hardly flattering and your apparent need for consistent affection might come off as clingy. And you have a tendency to find flaws within yourself whenever something doesn’t go your way. Adding onto that, you doubt yourself a lot and you’re always quick to take the blame for things that are out of your control. In a way you are partially—”

“I get it. I’m not a good person.”

“I never said anything of that sort. Now you’re just asking for pity.”

Oh, how close you are to punching that smirk off of his face.

“Then since you seem to know everything, my oh so helpful friend, why don’t you tell me what I’m missing?”

“With pleasure.” His cup finds the surface of the table as he ponders your demand for a moment. “You’re missing someone who meshes well with your personality.”

“That’s not true. Everyone I’ve been with so far—“ His skeptical look makes you stop short. “Okay. Maybe we forced it because we thought it was love. But that’s besides the point! There was still an attraction! I think...” You huff and bury your face in your arms, nearly almost sprawling on the table. You’re too depressed to even consider how impolite your actions look, and Scaramouche scoffs at your poor display of manners. “Where am I even going to find someone who ‘meshes well with my personality,’ hm?”

“I’m sure you’ve already found them.” He clears his throat, tracing a finger along a sanded knot in the wooden table. “You’re sitting across from him.”

Whether he intended for you to hear that whispered part, you can’t say for sure. But your head perks up and you fix him with a lopsided grin. “You’re kidding.”

“Hm?”

“Me and you, a couple?” A small giggle escapes your lips and you swipe the remaining tears out of your eyes. “Don’t joke about that. I’m trying to be sad here!”

It wasn’t a joke, he almost says and he catches himself, suddenly self-conscious.

“I don’t think we’d work out,” you continue, motioning between you and him. “We’d hardly see each other and you don’t seem like the type for romance. Besides, I’m not attracted to you in that way. You feel the same, right?”

Scaramouche stares into his cup before he meets your gaze, a tight smile gracing his expression. “Of course. Your inability to settle isn’t all that attractive.”

Your eyes roll and you finally pick up your own cup to take a large gulp of lukewarm tea. The bitter Harbinger observes your actions with narrowed eyes. There’s a distinct pain that taps at his hardened soul, splitting it apart as your words echo within his spinning head. I don’t think we’d work out. I’m not attracted to you in that way. Why is he suddenly feeling...upset? He’s not one for pitiful emotions; he’s a Harbinger, not a lovesick fool! He ought to glare at you and storm off, demanding the two of you never speak again. But he won’t say that because he doesn’t want to hurt you. Because he cares for you. Because he loves you.

You feel the same, right?

No, that’s not right. This is the love he’s been wallowing in since he first got acquainted with you. It’s strange when he remembers every event that has led up to the blossoming feelings that reside deep in the epicenter of his heart, but it’s even more strange that he can’t find the courage to voice his own opinion.

“We wouldn’t mix,” he reaffirms your statement with a cold tone. There is no warmth in his eyes. “After all, your taste in tea is as bad as your taste in partners.”

And even though he wishes you could see through his walls—just this once he’ll allow you to tear them down for the sake of a half-baked confession—you just sit there and grin, no longer teary-eyed and forlorn. How odd. His heart feels far heavier than it’s ever been before. And you’re already scanning your surroundings, hungry for a love that will never keep you sated. Perhaps you weren’t even sad in the first place.

Upon realizing this, Scaramouche wants nothing more than to disappear into the wood like a feeble worm and never come back out.

You Must Break Another.

[the-cult-of-russo]

Midnight Confessions

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader 

Request : hi! can i request a billy russo x reader with #4 from the love confession list and #2 from the smutty one liners list? thank you!!

#4: "This is just too much, I can't act like this anymore, like I don't love you!"

#2: "Don't act innocent when we both know where your mouth was two minutes ago."

Warnings: cursing, lil bit of angst, Billy trying to express some feelings, some fluff and a heaping of smut. Enjoy! (Under 18s please avert your eyes and pass on by) 

You sat hugging your knees on the sofa as you contemplated if you made a mistake or not. You knew Billy would just turn up since you were ignoring his calls but you really didn't want to do this over the phone. You didn't want to do it at all. 

You and Billy had been seeing each other for just over a year. And by seeing other it was more just fucking but you went and got feelings like an idiot. Because Billy fucking Russo didn't do feelings and you weren't about the unrequited love, so you knew you'd need to stop. He'd called earlier asking if he could come over and you didn't think you'd ever heard him that stunned before. You'd never turned him down. Feeling panicked and not wanting to deal with the situation, you avoided it like a coward because it was much easier than dealing with it. Billy had sent you multiple texts and calls, all of which you ignored. 

Billy didn't like being ignored and maybe you were a masochist and wanted him to come here so you could embarrass yourself in front of him by telling him how you felt. Ignoring his calls was like ringing a bell to invite him over to question you. 

It was almost midnight when the door knocked and your stomach tightened painfully. You knew it was him and you weren't surprised. You were, however, dreading it. With a heaving sigh, and another impatient knock from the man, you got up and opened the door. 

His dark eyes scanned your body as if he was assessing for anything wrong that was the cause of the rejection. You felt a little self conscious given the fact you were wearing some pyjama shorts and one of his t-shirts that was big on you. 

"Can I come in?" He asked pointedly after finding no injuries on you. Even though it was a question, his tone basically told you he was coming in either way. So you moved out of the way and into the kitchen area, leaning against the counter and wrapping your arms around yourself. Billy shut the door behind him, moving to the kitchen but keeping a little distance as he watched you carefully. His gaze always had a way of looking right through you and you shivered involuntarily. 

"So… wanna tell me what's goin' on?" He asked with a quirked brow. He was dressed down today in a dark grey sweater, jeans and his boots. His hands were in his pockets but the casual act was at odds with how rigid he was standing, head slightly tilted as he glared at you. Now or never.

"I don't think we should see each other anymore," you muttered quietly. His jaw clenched, his shoulder rolling a little.

"Do I get to know why?" He bit out. 

You glanced at your hands that were now in front of you and picked at your nails.

"It's just not working out," you shrugged. You were hanging on by a thread, trying to be nonchalant about it but inside it was killing you. Billy's mirthless chuckle had your eyes going back to him.

"That's it? That's all I get?" He asked, mouth downturned and his eyes burning.

"What do you want me to say, Billy? It's not working, it's over," you said firmly. Honestly you just needed him to leave so you could curl up in a sad ball and cry a little. 

He bit his lip, another unamused laugh escaping him as he shook his head.

"So...So, that's just it? You're just… kickin' me to the curb and I don't even get a good reason? You're just done with me?" He asked angrily, pointing at his chest. Your heart ached a little knowing what was going through his head and knowing about his past that he'd shared with you, it hurt.

"I'm not abandoning you, Billy," you said softly. 

"Really? 'Cause that's exactly what it sounds like. All this time together and what? Now you're done?!" He asked, his voice raising as he went on. You didn't expect him to react this strongly about it. 

"I can't… I can't do this anymore, Billy! It was supposed to be just sex but… this is just too much, I can't act like this anymore, like I don't love you!" There it was, out in the open. 

Billy looked like he'd been struck. His eyes wide, mouth slightly parted. The man who always had a retort ready was rendered speechless and it would have been funny if not for the circumstances. Something snapped in him then as he took a step towards you, face like thunder.

"No! You don't get to… you can't just say that shit to me and get me to leave!" He jabbed a finger in your direction then and you looked at him with wide eyes. 

"I didn't mean for it to happen. I know it was supposed to be casual but it happened. I fell for you and I can't change it. But I can't continue on like this when I- '' your rambling was cut off when he surged forward, gripping your jaw in his hand as he kissed you hard. 

It was all tongues and teeth and for a moment you indulged in it, he'd short circuited your brain. But then you snapped out of it and pushed him away. He looked wild eyed as he looked down at you. 

"I can't do this, Billy. Please just go," you murmured, voice wavering. 

"No," he said firmly. He stepped away and paced a little, running a hand through his hair before he turned back to face you. 

"Did you know… about a month after we started this thing, I stopped seein' other people?" he uttered, eyes gazing at you imploringly. That was news to you and you furrowed your brow as you soaked it in.

"No," you murmured. He took a shaky breath, hands rubbing either side of his beard and he looked like it was struggling to find the words he was looking for. 

"This is… this is hard for me, okay? I don't… do this. I don't do feelings. But you… I get excited to see you, and not just the sex. I look forward to takin' you to dinner and… and watchin' movies with you or just foolin' around on the sofa. I sit there… I sit there at work thinkin' about you. When I'm around you… you make everythin' different. Better. And I don't know… I don't know what love is, I never felt it before. But I'm pretty sure that I love you," his rambled confession was punctuated with his arms wildly gesturing and you stood blinking at him in shock. You really hadn't expected any of that. 

"Really?" You asked hesitantly. As if he'd start laughing and tell you it was a joke. He stepped to you, his hands cupping your cheeks and you stared into his expressive eyes as he nodded.

"I don't know how to do this shit. I don't know how to… be a boyfriend. But I want to try… with you. I don't want anyone else," he murmured. The emotion in his obsidian eyes floored you and he rested his forehead on yours.

"Will you let me? Let me try?" He asked softly. He sounded so unsure of himself. A far cry from the over confident man you knew him to be. 

You nodded and he leaned in, kissing you deeply. Not quite the ferocious kiss from earlier but slow and deep, taking his time. You yelped when he hoisted you up, your legs around him and his hands holding you up.

"Tell me again," he murmured against your lips. It took you a second to figure out what he meant. 

"I love you," you replied softly. He kissed you again and you could feel him smile into the kiss. 

"I love you too," he whispered, nipping your lower lip and sending a jolt through your body. 

You hadn't even realised he'd been walking but suddenly you were deposited on the bed, bouncing on it a little. His large hands slid up your hips and waist, dragging your shirt with it and you leaned up so he could remove it fully. It was discarded carelessly across the room. He made quick work of your bra next which joined the shirt and he smirked down at you as he hooked his fingers into the hem of the pyjama shorts and panties, pulling them down at the same time and tossing them over his shoulder. 

He gave your hip a cheeky nip before standing up and you couldn't take your eyes off him as he removed his sweater. Your eyes taking in every inch of skin you could see. You had no idea how it was possible for a human to be this attractive. You'd mused a long time ago that Billy wasn't really human, but a god that had come down from wherever he'd been hiding. Before long his jeans, boxers and boots were off and he hovered over you. You felt his hot skin against yours and it was soothing as much as it set you on fire. He kissed you until you couldn't breathe before kissing down your jaw to your neck  

He left open mouthed kisses and bites down your neck before kissing his way to your breasts. You moaned softly when he grabbed one, swirling his tongue around your nipple before sucking on it. Your back arched, eyes closed as you enjoyed the attention he was giving you. Billy was always an attentive lover. He paid the other breast the same attention before kissing his way further south.

You squirmed a little when he kissed your stomach, being a little ticklish there and he knew it. He chuckled, hands pinning you in place and you endured the sensation as he got lower. He settled between your legs, hooking his arms around your thighs and effectively locking you in place. He was being a tease, watching you as he kissed your thigh at a painfully slow pace but you refused to beg. 

When he finally made contact with your clit, the moan of desperation was almost embarrassing but he groaned against you, letting you know he liked it. He started lapping at you and you gasped, one hand fisting his hair and the other the sheet. He was an expert with his tongue and he had you on the brink in no time. Every time you moaned or gasped he responded in kind with a groan of satisfaction himself. You were putty in his hands as you squirmed at his touch and he held you in place as he went at you like a man starved. 

The moment he started sucking on your clit, you moaned loudly, back arching right up as you squirmed against his face. Your release washed over you like a wave of bliss and you were basically riding his face until it was over. You didn't realise how hard you'd fisted his hair but it was all over the place now. 

You lay there panting, calming down from your high as he chuckled, licking his lips as he moved back on top of you. You could feel his raging hard on against you and you stretched a little, arching up at him. 

"You're so fuckin' beautiful, you know that?" He asked against your lips before kissing you breathless again. 

Your hand was in his hair again as you arched up at him and you both moaned in relief as he pushed inside of you. He filled you up in the best way. He gripped your thigh, hitching your leg over his hip as he started to plow into you. You fit together like puzzle pieces and you rolled your hips up to him, making him groan against your lips. The hand that didn't have your thigh in a death grip was on your jaw as he kissed you like a starved man between his groans. You loved his noises and how he didn't try to hide it. You loved hearing how good you made him feel. 

He picked up his pace and each thrust forced the air out of your lungs in desperate moans. You felt the pleasure ramping up, your entire body feeling like it was on the edge of exploding. He angled his hips differently and you cried out, tugging his hair and making a noise akin to a growl leave his lips. Your second release hit you hard and you gasped, body tensing as you clamped down around him. He let out a sinful moan as his thrusts got erratic and then he groaned, stilling inside of you.

You were both panting messes as he lay his head in the crook of your neck. Your fingers toyed with his hair as you lay there blissful. You felt like you were in heaven and you were sure you'd be glowing after that. He placed a tender kiss on your neck before moving to your lips, kissing you slowly. He'd always taken the time to lavish you with attention when you were together but it felt different this time. There was a shift in your relationship with him now the feelings were out in the open.

"I don't know how I got so lucky. You're an angel," he murmured with a soft smile, rubbing his nose against yours. He was in a post coital bliss that had him relaxed and calm. You loved that side to him.

"Don't act innocent when we both know where your mouth was two minutes ago," you teased, kissing him sweetly. He chuckled into the kiss before pulling out of you and laying on his back. 

He held his arm open and you rolled over and snuggled up, nestled against his side with your head on his chest. One of his hands toyed with your hair as the other stroked your arm delicately.

"I love you," he said softly. You tilted your head towards him and smiled, his own sleepy smile on his face. You really never thought you'd hear those words out of his mouth.

"I love you too," you smiled. He kissed your forehead and you both relaxed, letting sleep take you under.

You really hadn't expected things to go the way they did but you couldn't complain. This was a new chapter for you both and you couldn't help but wonder just what was in store for you in a relationship with Billy Russo.

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

What if in the AU The non Alice cullens found out that she was almost killed by Edward, what would they do?

It's sad that I have so many damn AU posts in which Edward murders Bella it genuinely took me a minute to figure out which anon was referencing.

It's this one, by the way.

Well, part of the thing with that is Edward has Alice on his side. The Cullens aren't going to find out and it's not something any of them would ever guess either.

If rumor spreads, if the Cullens at some point visit Volterra and Aro takes Carlisle aside and goes, "You know, old friend, I don't know how to say this but... Your son murdered his wife." Then they won't believe it and Edward will easily poison the family against naysayers.

This would be believing the absolute worst of Edward and without irrefutable proof, they will not do it.

But Let's Pretend They Do

Maybe they catch Edward in the act somehow. His murder of Bella is pushing her into a beach bonfire in front of everyone. They rescue her just in time, even managing to save the leg Edward tore off and threw in there.

Well, if the other Cullens find out we end up here.

They'd be first horrified, confronted by this ugly, awful, truth and then the cookie crumbles and the coven falls apart.

Carlisle doesn't know who Edward is anymore, he doesn't know the truth about anything. Everything he thought he knew about Edward is a lie.

This is before Edward's met Aro, so he doesn't return to Volterra to find out the truth, but I do think he deliberately splits paths from Edward and offers Bella sanctuary with him.

Esme at first argues desperately against this. Edward must stay, he's unwell, he didn't understand what he was doing, they have to be there for him and help him heal. They can pull through this if they try.

Given Bella's life is on the line, Carlisle is unmoved, he's still leaving and Edward will not come with him. He's of course devastated inside, will need months to reflect on this and grieve over the Edward he's lost, but this choice has to be made.

Esme ultimately chooses to go with Edward, he needs her far more than Carlisle does, and is devastated at her marriage ending like this. Carlisle is as well, neither of them saw this coming, and yet looking at it in retrospect it seems obvious.

Rosalie and Emmett stay with Carlisle and Bella. Rosalie is appalled and horrified, in shock and not sure what to think, and still very conflicted over Bella. However, what Edward attempted was monstrous, and just as Carlisle doesn't know Edward anymore neither does Rosalie.

And where Rosalie goes Emmett goes. Emmett, for the record, thinks this is all extremely fucked up but doesn't want to touch it with a ten foot pole. If you asked him, which no one will, then he... may have seen a few red flags here and there. Just a few, mind you, Edward was always crazy when it came to Bella. Not crazy in love, either, just crazy.

Alice also goes with Edward which means that Jasper goes with Edward.

It's the divorce of the century.

Given the point of this is to save Bella's life and get her as far from Edward as possible Carlisle forsakes a) all the money b) all the properties. They all have ties to the Cullens and it'd be all too easy for Edward to track it down.

Granted, Edward also has Alice with him, which would certainly help him along but Carlisle also doesn't want to make it ridiculously easy. More, beneath all of this, is a need to break away from Edward and the Carlisle Cullen of the last century.

Edward is very dear to Carlisle and this is a huge blow.

All the memories he has of making this coven, Edward was there for, excepting his few years of absence. Edward was the first person Carlisle turned, the first person to come back to the diet, and such an important person in Carlisle's life.

Now Carlisle has essentially lost Edward, and everything he's built over this century. The homes with so many memories, Isle Esme, all of it has lost something.

Better to forsake all of it and leave it all behind.

As a result, the Cullens 1.0 get to live on Carlisle's doctor salary, the Cullens 2.0 get all of Alice's money and all the properties. Rosalie misses those cars so dearly. God, why does Edward, who tried to murder his wife, get rewarded with the cars?!

The Cullens 1.0

However, I think the first thing Carlisle does is move the family abroad. This will help with the clean break, the leaving the Cullen coven as it was behind and trying to move forward. They change their surroundings completely and go to Europe.

And they probably do visit the Volturi as Carlisle, a) needs a close friend he can talk to about all of this, b) Aro might have insight Carlisle lacks into how this could have possibly happened and why Edward would even do this, c) it's probably best he stay off the grid for a little while to let the Carlisle Cullen name die down while Edward's being... Edward.

Also, more pragmatically, for all Edward has Alice's visions he surely would not be mad enough to attempt to kill Bella while she's in Volterra. This will give time for Esme, Alice, and Jasper to get through to Edward and perhaps figure out why this even happened.

Bella's an absolute wreck, flip flopping between denial and numb apathy. She joins Marcus in the garden to stare at the wall for hours while she contemplates the fact that Edward, the love of her life, tried to murder her.

She asks Marcus if Edward ever truly loved her.

Marcus tells her that she doesn't want to know.

Carlisle tries to offer Bella therapy, but he's in desperate need of it himself.

Aro tries to offer her therapy, and then realizes that Bella's even worse off than he suspected. Though he is delighted at her gift as well as Carlisle's presence, and he enjoys Rosalie and Emmett. He schemes to get the Cullens 1.0 to stay in Volterra, to convince Carlisle of the necessity of Bella's gift for the guard.

Also helping is that while in Volterra she has sanctuary from her murderous lover. This is a very convincing argument that will see them in Volterra for a good long while.

Emmett challenges Felix to arm wrestling competitions and, while still weirded out, fares the best out of the entire family.

The Cullens 2.0

Edward has a complete meltdown. It's all falling apart. He never foresaw this, never wanted this. Instead of saving Bella's humanity she now knows he's a monster, sees him as nothing more than a murderer, and now he may never see her again.

And Carlisle, Carlisle knows just what he is! Worse, he not only knows, but he rejected Edward just as Edward feared he would. This time, it's not Edward leaving the diet and Carlisle, it's Carlisle leaving him and Edward cannot return the prodigal son. He will never see Carlisle again.

He personally ruined Carlisle and Esme's marriage.

He ruined everything.

Edward likely decides to kill himself. He has failed in everything, ruined everything he touched, and he is a monster worse even than other monsters.

Bella is now a demon and it seems she will be forever, Alice hesitantly tells him that she's in Volterra now, where Edward cannot reach her.

There is nothing for him now and he never should have become this demon in the first place. If he could kill Bella, the finest thing in creation, the least he can do is kill himself.

He forces Jasper to do it.

He blackmails Jasper, if Jasper doesn't do it, then Edward will break every law the Volturi have ever made.

He will embrace the monster he is, the monster they all know he is. He will turn hundreds of humans into newborn and set them loose on human cities, he will turn dozens of children in their cribs, he will walk naked in the sunlight and let every human see exactly what he is as he eats their women and children.

He will cause such terror and desolation that the vampire world will speak of him for decades to come.

And if Jasper relies on Alice, well, he will be forcing Alice to outmaneouver and out think Edward at every opportunity. And she will slip up, because Edward will act on impulse or else she might not be looking in his direction at a critical moment.

They have forever and Edward is patient.

Jasper, of course, does it as he does all hard things in life.

He tells Esme that Edward went to live on a farm.

The Cullens 2.0 never hook back up with the Cullens 1.0.

[ibijau]

#2 FOR XISANGYAO?? WITH JGY AS THE SPEAKER AAAHHH

"It's not my fault," Nie Huaisang exclaimed while wringing his fan, a sure sign that it was, in fact, his fault. That brat had heard his brother say that an honourable man had nothing to fear from false accusations, and developed a habit of only protesting his innocence when he was guilty.

Jin Guangyao wished he didn't find that endearing.

And as to Lan Xichen's guilt, it was even more obvious. The man had many qualities, and could hide anything behind a warm smile in public, but in private…

"It might be a little bit my fault," Lan Xichen pitifully whispered, anguished guilt displayed on his handsome face.

And it was a very handsome face. How could anyone be that beautiful? A masterpiece of humanity, with a face to make gods weep with envy, and a body…

Jin Guangyao shook his head, and pinched the bridge of his nose.

Salivating about Lan Xichen later, political disaster now.

"I'm not mad," Jin Guangyao said in the softest tone he could muster at the moment. "I just want to understand. Why were you even there?"

"Well, Wen-xiong is an old friend," Nie Huaisang explained. "We used to hang out together a lot when my dad and his uncle met up to… chat."

Jin Guangyao nodded. He'd heard about Wen Ruohan and Nie zongzhu's chatting. Wen Ruohan was a nostalgic drunk, and tended to ramble about his love life in greater detail than Jin Guangyao would have preferred. He could probably paint certain parts of Nie zongzhu with great precision.

The man's face would not have been one of those parts.

"So, Wen Ning was my friend," Nie Huaisang resumed. "And I thought I'd drop by to see how the Wen were treating him, right? I figured we could have a chat. A real chat, mind you!" he quickly added when Jin Guangyao glared at him. "A talking chat, not a…"

He made a vague hand gesture that made Lan Xichen blush, even though it was far from explicit.

And what a handsome blush that was. Worthy of being painted and adored and…

Focus.

"You wanted to talk, fine," Jin Guangyao said. "And then what?"

"Well, I couldn't go alone!” Nie Huaisang exclaimed, crossing his arms on his chest in the manner of a contradicted child, charming little actor that he was. “They were under Jin Zixun's power, and he hates me!"

"He probably does,” Jin Guangyao conceded. “It's nothing personal, he hates everyone."

"The first year I was studying in the Cloud Recesses, I punched him in the face, broke his jaw, and told everyone that Jin zongzhu was his real father."

That was new. Not the rumours about Jin Zixun, he'd heard those before, and also suspected them of being true, but he'd never heard of a feud between his cousin and Nie Huaisang.

Jin Guangyao blinked a few times at that sudden influx of information, then looked at Lan Xichen who nodded and smiled at Nie Huaisang, so completely unbothered that it not only confirmed the story, but hinted that maybe Lan Xichen too would have liked a chance to punch Jin Zixun. He couldn't be blamed. Jin Zixun was very punchable.

"Then I guess it's a little personal," Jin Guangyao admitted.

"Exactly!” Nie Huaisang cried out, one hand on his heart. “So I asked Er-ge to come, for safety. But we get there, and everything is awful! Lots of dead people! And they thought I'd like to see that, on account of da-ge's whole feud thing, so they took me to see where they were torturing people, and they had a little boy doing work, and they wanted to hurt him to amuse me, and Wen Ning objected, and they said this time they were gonna kill him, and I said no!"

Nie Huaisang paused, ostensibly for breath, but actually mostly for the drama of it.

"So, that's when it got a little out of hand," he admitted.

"A little?" Jin Guangyao repeated.

"It wasn't my fault!" Nie Huaisang cried out. "But they got upset when I said I'd tell my brother about this and he'd killed them all for hurting my friend, and they thought maybe they could deal with us…"

"They did attack us first," Lan Xichen sheepishly confirmed. "And I tried my best to de-escalate, but they were convinced they could kill us and blame the Wens. And there was so much crying…"

"Mostly me," Nie Huaisang remarked. "But also the little boy, and some of the Wens. I was definitely the loudest though."

"Yes, you were," Lan Xichen fondly confirmed.

Well, at least that made sense, Jin Guangyao thought, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose once more. Lan Xichen, bless him, his handsome face, and his godlike body, was very weak to sad people. Jin Guangyao wouldn't be surprised to learn that Nie Huaisang's tears had been fake, but couldn't have blamed him for it when he also cried on command sometimes to get something out of Lan Xichen.

Lan Xichen who probably knew his two lovers were horrible, manipulative people who could cry on a whim, and who just enjoyed playing at consoling them.

Probably.

Either way, the death of those Jin guards no longer bothered Jin Guangyao. Anyone attacking Lan Xichen with killing intent deserved to perish. First, because the great Zewu-jun hadn't gotten such a flawless reputation without reason, and men stupid enough to go after an opponent so out of their league had it coming.

Secondly, because Lan Xichen was too perfect to be harmed, and Jin Guangyao was going to personally slaughter any survivor among those men who'd dared to think they could deface a living piece of art.

Better yet, he'd get Nie Mingjue to kill them. It'd be much easier.

“Most people just have to deal with one idiot," Jin Guangyao sighed. "You both will someday be the death of me.”

Lan Xichen, bless him, look mortified to hear this. Jin Guangyao was going to be able to milk this for favours for years. Nie Huaisang looked rather more unconcerned, but that didn't mean he wouldn't be very demonstrative if Jin Guangyao managed to help them handle this without starting another war.

These two were trouble, but they were so worth the hassle.

[dialovers-translations]

DIABOLIK LOVERS Tsukinami & Kino Born To Die Vol.3 Kino [TRACK 4]

Original title: 誕生日をあなたに

Source: Diabolik Lovers Born To Die Vol.3 Kino [CD not owned by me]

Audio: Here (36:45 - 45:44)

Seiyuu: Tomoaki Maeno

→  LIKE MY TRANSLATIONS? SUPPORT ME ON KO-FI!

TRACK 4: A BIRTHDAY FOR YOU (36:45)

“Come on, don’t you have anything to say? Or do you think everything will magically solve itself by keeping quiet like that?”

You frown.

“Hmー Seems like you can’t think of anything, huh? I was somewhat hopeful but oh well, I guess it can’t be helped…”

*Rustle*

“After such a performance, I don’t think I can tell you my birthday. I guess it all ends here? What a shame.”

You protest.

“...You want to know that badly? Gosh, you’re so persistent. For one, why do you even care? It’s not like you’d gain anything from knowing said information.”

You explain.

“Hmー You want to know the birthday of the person you love, huh? Honestly, I don’t understand humans. Why make a big deal out of such things?”

You tell him that you want to know regardless. 

“Listen up…Do you just not understand? You know about my circumstances of birth, right?”

You nod. 

“...Exactly. For as long as I can remember, I had been left behind at a place known as Rotigenberg. There wasn’t anyone who would acknowledge a child who grew up on those tainted lands.”

You look sad.

“So you really think I know the date of my birth? As badly as you might want to find out, I’m afraid I can’t give you the answer either. Do you understand now…why I was so reluctant to tell you? I thought it was pretty easy to figure out if you put a little thought into it.”

You apologize for being insensitive. 

“...Why are you making that sorta face? There’s really no reason for you to be sad. I’m not even sad about it myself after all.”

“Why, you ask…? Fine. I guess this is the perfect opportunity to tell you.”

Kino steps closer.

“Even when Yuuri’s Father took me under his wing after I had been abandoned at Rotigenberg by my own Father, I was treated horribly by the other Ghouls. Back then, there wasn’t anyone who’d acknowledge my birth, or even my existence. I was unwanted by the whole world, so in my eyes, I might as well have been dead.”

You empathize with Kino. 

“This past of mine is something I can never erase. As long as I exist, I will never be able to undo the pain of the past. However…It’s all part of a distant past. I have you now. You acknowledge my existence. Right?”

You nod and convey how much he means to you. 

“...Your special someone, huh? Kinda cheesy, don’t you think? But…I don’t dislike it. If I had been told the same thing before I met you, I’m sure I wouldn’t have given it a second though. If anything, I might have written off the person as a lunatic. However…I changed my outlook ever since you acknowledged me as a living individual. I now have a reason to be alive right here, right now.”

Kino embraces you. 

*Rustle*

“Therefore, there’s no reason for you to be sad. …Show me your usual smile, okay?”

*Rustle*

“All I need is for you to be in my arms like this…I don’t care that I don’t know my own birthday. I’m just so blessed right now, that sort of stuff no longer matters at all.”

You tell Kino you have an idea.

“...Hm? What is it?”

You explain. 

“Eh…? You want to make today…my birthday?”

You elaborate.

“You don’t need to celebrate it every year, really. Like I said, I’m perfectly happy as is. Or what? Are you trying to show me pity or something?”

You frown.

“In which case, I definitely don’t want it. …I’m sure I’ve mentioned this before, but there’s nothing I hate more than being pitied.”

You shake your head and explain.

“Ah…You’re worried about what I said earlier, huh? That you failed to meet my expectations. I assume that means you’ve thought of something which would be able to please me? I appreciate the sentiment but doesn’t it seem a little too cheap?”

You pout.

“Today is my birthday…Fine. I guess it’s a decent idea coming from you. I’ll accept your gift. ーー Which means, I guess we celebrated my precious birthday today, right? Honestly…I feel a little embarrassed…But…It’s not a bad feeling.”

You smile and ask if he feels satisfied now.

“Mmh. Well, a little, I guess. Or rather, I might be surprisingly more satisfied than I thought. Even though I only agreed to this whole thing because I wanted to mess around with you for a bit…It ended up taking an unexpected turn.”

You ask if he had no intention of taking it seriously at first. 

“Exactly. I mean, I just couldn’t understand why you’d get all excited over this sort of thing. But…I think I might understand now. Because I’d also…like to celebrate the birthday of the person I love. I want to rack my head over what would make them happy, see them smile in joy and…Thank them for being born into this world.”

*Rustle*

“You taught me yet another…precious feeling.”

He strokes your cheek.

“Thank you…I guess I really would be lost without you. Mmh…”

*Smooch*

“Hehe…Look at you melt. Was that not enough to satisfy you?”

You shake your head.

“Even if you don’t admit it out loud, it’s written all over your face. You prefer a kiss that’s a little more passionate, don’t you?”

You become flustered. 

*Thud thud* 

“Oh come on, don’t hit me! ー Ahaha! You’re red all the way to your ears! …I’m satisfied with my birthday party, but that doesn’t mean we’ll call it a day. …Give me more of you.”

*Rustle*

“Ah…”

*Smooch*

ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー

[neo-shitty]

minute — s.jy

description. in which jake was given one minute to see his lover who didn’t recognize him anymore. (inspired by ricky montgomery’s mr. loverman)

pairings. not-so-human!jake x human!reader (to be clear, jake has a completely human physique but isn’t entirely human. also, mc is a barista.)

genre. supernatural/superhuman-ish!au, angst

warnings. none. except a very ‘what the fuck is happening’ plot. if you have questions about this, feel free to send an ask.

word count. 1k

writer’s notes. this is mostly shitty writing. i mean what’s new, my blog name says it all. this was supposed to be a timestamp but it ended up longer than i expected. now, i don’t know how to explain this piece of shit to you because i don’t understand it either. i just needed to write it down but upon doing so i realized that the idea was better in my head. too late tho. 

i also don’t know how i managed to write something for enhypen not even a week into stanning the group? 

+ @enha-woodzies​, thank you for choosing ‘i miss you’! mc lives to see another day.

“You have a minute,” Jay said the moment they successfully warped onto the sidewalk outside of the café. 

Thankfully, the place was devoid of people. There was no need to explain to a bunch of strangers how the pair managed to appear out of thin air.

Jake fixed his beret before turning to Jay with a raised eyebrow, “You’re kidding?”

“Every minute we’re here, we’re risking the chance that the higher ups will find out we’re here when they specifically told us not to be. It’ll only take so long for them to find out we’re gone,” Jay answered sternly, as if to scold the other boy. “So don’t waste a second.”

The conversation ends with a cold stare down between the two. Jake couldn’t hide his annoyance but he knew deep down that the other was just trying to keep the both of them safe. He was the first to look away, walking up the steps to the café. He heaved a breath in before he pushed the door open.

And as he expected, there you were—leaning against the counter with your back facing the entrance. You laughed at what another barista said before you turned your head to welcome the new customer that had just walked in. Like you were trained to, you flashed a smile that nearly makes Jake’s heart leap to his throat.

To Jake, you seemed like you hadn’t changed at all. Your smile was still as bright as it had been when you were with him and you still crinkled your nose before you went into fits of laughter. In every other aspect, nothing had changed—except you no longer looked at him with a glint of recognition.

You looked back at him with only professionalism, the type that a barista carried to leave good impressions on customers. Eyes-bright, wide-smiled and welcoming.

As he closed the distance between the both of you, his footsteps started feeling heavier. For a moment, he regretted that he didn’t let them erase his memories too. It was a burden to be on the remembering end of a (literal) half-forgotten romance, but it would’ve been a shame if he chose to forget everything too. He knew that if you had a choice, you wouldn’t have your memory wiped. But every day you spent with him, with you carrying the knowledge that his species existed, put both you and his entire kind at high risk.

How unfortunate it was that relationships between humans and the supernatural were still frowned upon long after the medieval times. As the sayings went, old traditions really did die hard.

It took a wave of your hand for him to snap out of his spiral of thought. Only then did he notice that he had spaced out in front of you, staring blankly (and frowning) at the marble counter.

“What would you like to order?” you asked.

“I miss you,” he blurted out the same time.

You flinched. The pen you were twirling freezes between two of your fingers. Jake wanted to slap himself for letting such a weird phrase slip out of his mouth. But his hands were glued to his side and he could only stare down at you with eyes that desperately tried to memorize your every feature. He was unsure when he’d be back to see you.

You felt the blood rush to your cheeks and suddenly, you were self-aware and conscious of everything—be it a crease on your apron or just your physical appearance in general. You expected him to take back what he said but he doesn’t. He just stood there, staring down at you with sad eyes—sad familiar eyes that seemed to be ones you’ve already seen before. But you just couldn’t point out when and where exactly. 

Confusion washed over your expression and you tried to hold back a laugh. Jake, on the other hand, chuckled a bit but he didn't backtrack on what he said.

So it wasn’t a mistake, you thought.

You stared back at him one last time before you turned around and shook your head. “How could you miss me when we haven’t met before?” you asked.

There was a long pause. You notice how he smiles, or at least attempts to, before he frowns again. “We‘ve met before,” he replied.

Though a part of you believed that he wasn’t lying, you really couldn’t recall anything about him. But there was a second of recognition when you stared back at him, almost as if you’ve stared at him intently that way once before. The moment felt like deja vu and with every time you tried to reach and grasp it, the memory slips out of your fingertips and into the back of your mind again.

“Okay,” you said, surrendering to your curiosity. “Whatever you say, what’s your name again?”

Your question was left hanging. Before you could even interrogate and pester him about how you’ve met before, the boy was gone when you turned around. 

“What the heck?!” Jake groaned, shoving the other boy the moment they warped back into the castle.

“A minute’s passed,” Jay answered coldly, brushing off the dust from his coat and vest.

“You could’ve waited at least until I could say my name!” the other boy shouted, his voice echoing down the empty hallways.

Jay stared back with disappointment, feeling his own rage rise at how irrational the other was getting. “Letting her remember everything eliminates the purpose of having her memories wiped in the first place. Do you really want all of us to die just because you’re in love with some human who seems different?” he snapped. “Do you remember each one of our kind who died thinking the same thing?”

Jake opened his mouth to say something back but the older boy had already started walking away, disappearing into the darkness of the endless castle hallways. 

The truth was as bitter as it had always been, even more so when it was shouted at you because it wouldn’t get through your head. Jake thought it was about time he let the words sink in; it was about time that he listened.  

For months, he hoped there was some way around it. Each time, your memory was wiped upon the Masters’ orders again and again and again. 

Maybe there really wasn’t a way around it and Jake had only been stalling accepting the truth for so long. Jay’s words echoed in his mind like a broken record and he lets himself slumping against the cold concrete as he felt the last of his hopes dwindled into nothing.

© neo-shitty, 2021

[strawberry--bride]

DIABOLIK LOVERS Haunted Dark Bridal ー Sharon’s Route [MANIAC PROLOGUE]

*FLASHBACK STARTS*

Monologue

Every happy story has to one day come to an end.

In my case, it all happened on a stormy evening.

I paced back and forth impatiently by the front door.

Waiting for the doorbell to ring. 

However, when it did, it wasn’t my parents standing at the other side.

Instead, I was greeted by a police officer,

wearing a nervous smile on his face.

Location: Nozomi’s house ;;  Entrance hall

Nozomi: ...

Police officer: Miss Takeshita Nozomi?

Nozomi: ...W-Where are mommy and daddy? They told me I shouldn’t talk to strangers.

Police officer: My name is officer Yamada. I’m from the local police department. 

Nozomi: The police...?

Police officer: I am terribly sorry to have to deliver you this news but your parents had an accident. They lost control of their car and drove straight into a tree.

Nozomi: Eh...?

( Accident? Mommy and daddy? B-But...! )

Police officer: ーー Both of them died instantly.

Nozomi: ...!!

Uu...

Police officer: I fully understand this must come as a shock to you. We tried to get in touch with your relatives, but almost none of them answered our calls.

Nozomi: ...

Police officer: When we finally got in touch with one of your aunts, she told us your parents broke up with the rest of the family after a dispute.

Nozomi: I-I don’t know...Mommy and daddy never talked about other family...

Police officer: ...Well, the thing is, with nobody else to take you in, we will have to transfer you to the local orphanage instead.

Nozomi: Or...phanage?

Police officer: It’s a very nice place, don’t worry! There will be people there to look after you. Look at it as a new home.

Nozomi: I-I don’t want a new home! I like it here! 

Police officer: ...We understand. However, you are simply too young to live by yourself.

Nozomi: Noー!!

She slams the door shut and covers her ears.

*Thud*

Nozomi: ( This can’t be happening...It’s all just a bad dream...When I wake up again, everything will be back to normal.

( Mommy and daddy will be here and all of us can live happily together like we’ve done so far! )

Monologue

Unfortunately, it was no dream.

But a harsh reality crashing down on my 6-year old self.

The next day, 

I could no longer escape my fate,

as the police brought me to the local orphanage. 

The orphanage worked closely together with the city’s Church,

taking in children who had either lost their parents,

or lived under inhumane circumstances.

The caretakers did everything within their power,

to make us feel loved and cared for. 

At the end of every week, 

young couples would come and visit to look at the children.

If they took a liking to you, the adoption procedure could start.

All of us would line up like dolls stalled out in a shopping window,

while the soon-to-be parents could pick and choose. 

It was every child’s wish to find a new home. 

Yet, I dreaded these moments more than anything.

Location: Orphanage ;;  Meeting room

Woman A: What is your name, little girl?

Nozomi: Nozoーー

Caretaker: Ahem.

Nozomi: ...It’s Sharon, ma’am.

Woman A: Oh my, you seem very well-mannered. Don’t you think so too, dear?

Man A: Definitely. 

Sharon: Thank you very much.

Man A: Howeverーー

Sharon: ...

Man A: Say, Honey...

Woman A: Hm?

The couple starts whispering.

Man A: Don’t you think the girl with the blue eyes over there is much cuter?

Woman A: Hmー Right. Now that you mention it, this girl does seem a little plain.

Sharon: ( ...I wonder if they realize I can hear them. )

Woman A: We would like to see some of the other children first before making our decision.

Caretaker: Most certainly. Please follow me.

Sharon: ( It’s always like this... )

*TIMESKIP*

Woman B: What a cutie you are! Say, do you play any sports? Or an instrument, perhaps?

Sharon: Eh? I...

Caretaker: Oh! If you’re looking for an athletic child, the boy in the back is a natural at soccer. 

Furthemore, the girl with the ponytail can play the piano even though she’s only four years old!

Man B: Really? Could you introduce them to us?

Caretaker: Gladly!

The couple is escorted away.

Sharon: ...

Monologue

All of the other children,

who arrived shortly before or after I did, 

had long been adopted. 

New children would come and go,

yet I found myself standing there again, week after week. 

There was always that one kid,

who was cuter, smarter or more skilled. 

As I grew older and bigger,

my odds of being adopted only decreased further. 

I would often find myself wondering.

‘Is there really nothing I have going for me?’

Until one day,

I finally found my purposeーー

Location: Orphanage ;;  Kitchen

Caretaker A: Thank you so much for always helping out, Sharon-chan!

Caretaker C: Exactly! It has lifted so much pressure off our shoulders!

Caretaker A: The little ones love you as well. 

I’m sure you would one day make for a great caretaker yourself!

Sharon: Ehehe...~ Geez, you guys praise me too much. I’m only helping out where I can.

Caretaker C: Oh no, that’s not true! You must have a talent for looking after others!

Sharon: ( A talent... )

...Thank you.

Caretaker A: Oh! Look at the time! We should get started on preparing dinner!

Sharon: ( I...I’m not utterly useless after all! )

( By helping others, I have a purpose in life! )

Monologue

That moment must have been the happiest I felt,

since the day my parents passed away.

I began to help out even more frequently,

dedicating my whole life to the orphanage. 

l had recently started high school,

and I realized that the orphanage would most likely be my home,

until I graduated and could go live on my own.

My past self could have never fathomed,

I would eventually find a new home.

ーー One housing six Vampire brothers. 

*FLASHBACK ENDS*

Location: Sakamaki Manor ;; Kitchen

Sharon: ( ...I still have to apologize to Shuu-san for what happened the other day. )

( Even if he was in the wrong as well, I went too far. )

Haah...I’m not usually the kind of person who lets their emotions get the best of them. 

I suppose living with six Vampires who could latch onto you at any given second has been taking its toll on me.

( Still...I can’t forget about that look in his eyes. )

( His expression was disinterested as per usual, but for just a split second, I swear I saw a glint of sadness. )

( Perhaps Shuu-san has lost someone dear to him as well...? )

???: Oiー

Sharon: ...!!

She turns around in surprise.

Sharon: S-Shuu-san.

( When you speak of the Devil... )

Shuu: Now I’m no master chef, but I’m pretty sure it’s not a very smart idea to daydream while cooking. 

...I could smell something burning all the way over in the hallway.

Sharon: A-Ah...! My pancakes! 

She rushes to save them, accidentally brushing her hand against the hot pan.

Sharon: ーー Ow!!

Shuu: ...!

Sharon: D-Don’t worry! It’s just a small burn!

Shuu: Oi, put your hand under cold water.

Sharon: Eh?

Shuu: Hurry!

Sharon: ( What’s wrong...? I’ve never seen Shuu-san this frantic before... )

D-Don’t worry...It’s nothing serious, see? The skin’s just a little red.

Shuu: Tsk...Just do as I say.

He grabs hold of her wrist, guiding her towards the sink to cool her skin. 

*Pshhhhh*

Sharon: ...

Shuu: ...What? It’s rude to stare at someone.

Sharon: Ah...S-Sorry! I’m just a little surprised. 

I thought you’d make fun of me for burning myself on a hot pan like that.

Shuu: Well, I certainly can’t praise you for it.

Sharon: Ahaha...

Shuu: Hm? 

Shuu leans in close.

*Rustle*

Sharon: ...E-Eh!?

Shuu: You..

Sharon: ( H-He’s way too close...! )

Shuu: Heeh. You greedy woman.

Sharon: Eh?

Shuu: Subaru sucked your blood, didn’t he?

Sharon: Howー!?

Shuu: I can tell by the scent. ...Heh. I guess having one Vampire bite you wasn’t enough, huh?

Sharon: W-Wait...! I didn’t ask either of you to bite me!

Shuu: Is that so? Despite saying that, you didn’t seem to dislike it that much.

I could tell by the taste of your blood.

Sharon: ...!!

Shuu: See? You can’t even deny it.

Sharon: ( Uu... )

Shuu: Well, you should probably consider yourself lucky. You’re living with six Vampires, so I’m sure you can find at least someone to fulfill your desires.

Sharon: ...

Shuu: However, if you want me to bite you, you’re gonna have to do the work. 

Sharon: I-I don’t!

Shuu: Heeh? We’ll see about that.

Sharon: ( He’s definitely just teasing me right now...! )

Shuu: ...Anyway, you better wrap a bandage around that hand later.

Sharon: Ah, right. It already feels a lot better though!

Thank you for the first aid~

Shuu: I’m going back to my room to nap now. ...See you.

ーー Unless you’re willingly offering to be my pillow today?

Sharon: I-I’ll pass...!

Shuu: Haha. Right.

Shuu leaves the kitchen.

Sharon: Geez...For someone who’d consider breathing to be ‘a chore’, he sure has a lot of energy when it comes to teasing others...

Location: Sakamaki manor ;; Hallway

Shuu: Haah...What am I doing? 

...

Even though I told myself I wouldn’t get involved with humans again...

He walks away.

ーー MANIAC PROLOGUE: END ーー

<- [ Dark Epilogue ] [ Maniac 01 ] ->

[beautifulletdownfics]

Nothing To Him - A Harry Styles One Shot

Harry Styles is a liar.

He lied your whole relationship.

He promised to love you forever and then he walked away.

A lovers to nothing break up fic feat. blisters, heartache & two sides to one story.

Word count: 15k (Sorry! You’re going to want to open this little pal in a browser window probably. Eek)

Story Playlist:

The First Lie: Damn This Love - Thirsty Merc The Second Lie: Do You Remember - Jarryd James The Third Lie: Nebraska - Oh Wonder The Fourth Lie: I Saw You - Jon Bryant The Fifth Lie: Here We Go - Emily Hearn The Sixth Lie: Crying Dancing - Nina Nesbitt , NOTD

+

MY MASTERLIST.

+

The first lie was that you were different.

Harry felt different with you.

You just slipped into his routine and his life. You didn't buy into the spectacle of it all. You told him on your first date that you didn't play games, and that it wasn't often you connected with someone on an intellectual or emotional level. Harry sat there and listened to the woman across from him say she didn't expect to finish the date still attracted to him.

And he fucking loved it.

The next morning he called you at quarter past eight, because he figured you either started work at eight-thirty or nine o'clock, so he'd catch you on your commute or just before you walked into the office. You answered your phone like you would a business call. He teased you for it, but really he was just glad you answered at all. It felt like getting test results telling Harry he was in the clear.

The truth was when Harry first met you at the birthday party the night before he'd been angling towards you being a hookup. He saw you across the bar as soon as he arrived, gaze zeroing in on your legs in That Dress, his ears leaning to the sound of your laugh pulling eyes from around the room. Harry wanted you, and he'd been through a bit of a dry spell. You radiated the kind of energy Harry could get drunk on, the sort of body he wanted to lose himself in for a night.

It was almost an hour before he managed to edge into the same circle of bodies as you. You knew the birthday girl the same way he did; through work. Harry caught early on that you didn't still work for his record label, but did a few years before and stayed in touch with everyone. You seemed like the kind of person who collected people, who everyone wanted to keep in touch with. Harry just wanted to touch you.

Two tequilas in he got you to himself.

You were good at flirting, which excited Harry initially. You had a quip for everything or an interesting addition to each story he told. You were well-read and well-travelled, and you weren't hesitant in showing Harry that you had opinions and ideas of your own. Over the years he'd become good at getting people to talk, good at asking questions that make someone share themselves because the alternative—Harry sharing himself—wasn't something he could do. But something about you and the way you framed questions made Harry feel like it was safe to share a little more, you'd disarmed him quietly, and by the time he noticed Harry didn't feel the need to protect himself anymore.

"That's bullshit," you'd told him when he said he wasn't all that into contemporary fiction. You hated the artsy elites who listed off the Hemingway's and the Kerouac's and the Vonnegut's as though the only literature worth mentioning came from lifetimes ago. Your hair swished back and forth at your cheeks as you shook your head emphatically, "You're being lazy. Imagine saying the same about modern music."

Harry's lips ticked up into a smile, and he raised his eyebrow in concession, "That would be bullshit," he agreed, thinking of the album he'd just released and how he wanted to know if you'd listened to any of his stuff. (Very quickly he decided he probably didn't want to know because it stuck Harry the answer would be no.) His eyes couldn't pull away from watching your lips as you spoke, admiring the shade of lipstick you wore.

"Right," you continued, "Modern fiction teaches me about myself, about my life. It gives words to what my friends and I are experiencing. The classics are amazing—don't get me wrong—but I don't see myself in them."

"Seems like your criteria stem from narcissism," Harry was sure he had you there. He grinned at you happily.

"Exactly," you agreed without hesitation, "Maybe 'Hills Like White Elephants' is genius, and as a woman, I should be grateful to Hemmingway for horrifying his audience in 1927 with a normalised view of abortion but … I don't think he wrote that for me. He was challenging ideas then. I feel more connection and loyalty to an Instagram poet who's painting the world that actually matters to me, the world I'm trying to survive now."

Harry hums into his drink and says nothing. He expects you to back away a little, or ask him some question that watered-down your view and opened up the table to his. But you don't. You let your view sit on the slice of the bar between you and don't apologise for it.

"There's a reason artists burst out of every generation," you add, sitting forward on your stool. "If the classics were the perfect form, the perfect commentary of humanity, then there'd be no need for anyone after them to bother trying to put the world and life into words, or pictures, or music. You can't just dismiss a generation of voices because some smelly, old, white, university hasn't decided to name a building after them yet. I don't think being published as a little orange Penguin Classic is the singular hallmark to good literature."

He didn't entirely agree with you, (he thought it was vital to learn from the past, thought those great authors you reeled off and dismissed set the benchmark artists today should aspire to) but Harry liked hearing your thoughts and seeing the passion burst out of you. He liked seeing how you didn't second guess yourself or try to soften your opinion by asking for his. You just said what you thought, and that was always one of his favourite characteristics in a person.

That night you met him, you were the designated driver for a few of your friends. He should have noticed the way you switched to pineapple juice after you finished your first drink, but he was too busy trying not to look at the curve of your thigh when you crossed one leg over the other. Trying to ignore the smell of your perfume or how you kept licking your lips and he wanted to taste them, desperately. Harry didn't like to say anything when he offered to buy you another gin and dry. Still, when it eventually came out in conversation—that you were strictly only having one tonight—he felt his excitement deflate. His warm buzz suddenly felt pervy and presumptuous.

"Well, that's bloody annoying, isn't it?"

His response surprised you, "Me getting my friends home alive?"

With his hand comfortably resting over your knee, Harry shook his head, "I was hoping to go home with you."

"Oh."

You blinked at him, not having expected him to be so bold. You didn't hate it though, you felt the twinge of realising you were going to miss something that could have been good. Could have been great, probably. The last time you had sex had been … sad. And disappointing. Still, you hadn't come out to meet anyone tonight, why the sudden rush of despondency? These were old work colleagues you rarely saw, and you figured it would be a night of catching up before six months of not seeing each other because life got in the way.

Then Harry asked for your number. Asked if you'd go out with him the next night. He didn't beat around the bush with it, he wanted to see you again and told you so. The way you said you would filled him with relief but also fear. Harry knew he'd need to really deliver with you, he couldn't half-arse it. He was terrified he'd overshoot it and lose the change to be someone who impressed you.

He settled on a Sunday evening picnic where the two of you ate takeaway on a beach towel at the top of a park halfway between your houses. Something told Harry you would be happier with him underplaying the date than you would be getting taken to an expensive, showy restaurant. You wore jean shorts and a long sleeve jumper which churned his body more deeply than the dress with the split from the night before. He was hooked.

"Do you not like olives?" Harry asked, sucking the oil off his fingers after just depositing one into his mouth. You instantly loved the way the inflection of his words rose at the end of his sentences, and you'd mock him for it your whole relationship.

You looked at the plastic container sitting between you, you'd been picking at the cheese and crackers, the antipasto was not your thing, "They don't seem like something humans should eat … Salty and rubbery with a tiny stone on the inside? No, thanks."

A laugh burst out of Harry's mouth as he picked up another green olive, "More for me then."

"I'm happy about the rosemary in these though," you held up a cracker before digging it into the hummus, a plastic-stemmed wine glass with a dry rose in your free hand, "You got the fancy ones."

"Only the best," Harry returned with a smile and then went on trying to playfully wedge more information from you about the secret poetry Instagram he was convinced you had. He was already feeling buzzed from the wine, but more from the way you kept looking at him and he couldn't catch a hint of you being anything other than yourself.

You didn't go home together that night either, despite The Kiss at the end next to his car. Despite Harry's hands on the back of your thighs as things got heated. The way the tips of his fingers feathered against the elastic of your knickers, just slipping under before pulling away. Your chests heaving together in a rhythm you'd never found with anyone else.

He felt like he had just auditioned for a part he wasn't sure yet that you were going to give him. Wine always heightened his anxiety, so Harry also wanted to appear controlled and measured. He wanted to be as thoughtful as you were. As connected to himself as you were to all your wonderful opinions and facts. There was some part of him that feared taking you home too soon might risk that being the only night Harry got. So he pulled away, kissed your cheek and promised to call you later on.

Somewhere along the line, Harry decided he wanted more than a little bit. He was greedy. Harry wanted the whole pie all to himself.

That was a theme, him wanting more. Even now, months since you've seen or heard from him. Harry always knew how to get you to take that one step out of your comfort zone, take that little bit extra risk. Letting go of him in one way felt like small release valve finally letting go. A tiny bit of your safety net tucking closer around you. A little quiet moment to take stock and check every part of you was still connected, still there. A deep breath in. A short pause of calming silence. Like getting your heart back … But then finding it didn't fit in your chest the same way anymore.

So you found it particularly cruel to have received a follow-up email from his assistant this week, checking to see if you were able to attend his show tonight.

The show that six months ago Harry drew you a mock ticket for and hand-delivered to you sitting outside in his garden with a tea and a biscuit. Even then, even as his girlfriend, you'd feigned not knowing if you could say whether you would attend. Now it felt foreboding, the way you'd pulled your features together thoughtfully and told Harry you'd have to see closer to the date. You waited just long enough for him to switch over into thinking you were serious before you laughed and told him of course and where else would I be?

Where else would I be, was right, in a sense. Because this is still your city, and you're here tonight. It's not his anymore. He moved soon after you broke up … Relocated to one of his—what was it you used to mockingly call them?—" location" homes. Houses you never saw in person. Places he never took you. Either Italy or France. Somewhere he could hide, be creative, recenter himself. All three of those things filled you with dread for different reasons.

Were you really going to go tonight though? Walk in through the front door of the venue with a ticket and barcode on your phone, sit in a crowd and listen to Harry for two hours? Look at him from across the room and just take it on the chin?

It certainly seemed you were dressed for it. And you were out of the house with time to get there. Would you get off the train at the stop though? Would you walk down the street with the bright sign his name lit up? Would Harry even know if you didn't go?

Part of you wonders if his assistant didn't mean to email you. Maybe she forgot you were no longer in Harry's life? Perhaps it was a scheduled email she forgot to stop? Probably it was Harry just being fucking nice, and polite, and worrying about how you'd feel if you were uninvited. Or if he didn't check in on you while he was here.

You accepted the reminder too easily and scolded yourself for it. His team was expecting you. Harry was expecting you. And now, sitting on the train and counting down the stops you felt caught. Felt like he had you again, even if it was just winning whatever tonight was.

Harry did always enjoy the chase. Admitted it himself, admitted to loving the beginning of meeting someone. Loving the audition process, the figuring each other out, the get. The Catch.

You wonder now if it was the chase he liked back then. Was it a thrill having you make him feel as though he had something to prove? Or was it Harry experiencing for the first time not having the upper hand, not having even the tiniest amount of weight around who he was count for anything. Now it felt like Harry was nothing but upper hand.

Whatever it was—the Chase, or your endless facts, pancakes on a Sunday morning—the part of Harry's lie about you being different that hurts the most is the way you bought into it so proudly. Wore it later as his girlfriend like a badge of honour. As though it signalled to others you'd been hard-won, and Harry was lucky to have you.

Different turned out to be such a dirty word.

Different turned out to mean nothing. To get you nowhere.

All different got you was Nothing To Him.

+

The second lie was that he saw a future with you.

Harry didn't shy away from talking about it. He made plans for you both.

Sometimes it was in the moments right before you both fell asleep at night, or in the final seconds before the kettle finished boiling. Always in some small window where his mind drifted and sat comfortably stagnant when all there was to think about was the next holiday you'd take together. Or what breed of dog you might have one day. Whether you wanted your kids to be close together in age or have larger age gaps between them. What you thought about silent retreats in Thailand.

He stored your answers away in the file full of you in his head or added them to the note on his phone with ideas for gifts for people or things going on in their lives he wanted to remember.

"My family have always had cats," he told you one night, fingers drawing circles around your bare kneecap, your naked thigh resting across his stomach, "When I'm settled I'd want to get a few of my own."

It was one of those hot summer nights no position felt comfortable for sleep, you raised your arms up over your head and stretched out further on the mattress, fingers dangling off the edge of the bed to feel the cold stream from the air conditioning unit above, "I don't trust cats. Isn't there something about them being evolutionarily build to hunt their owner?"

Harry turned his head to face you, "A fact for everything," he recited fondly, his common quip for your always having an answer for everything, "I'll let the cats hunt me, you'll be spared."

"As long as I can name them," you murmured, your eyes finally closing.

Close to three months later, an hour into unsuccessfully putting together a flat-pack shelving unit in Harry's garage, you heavily plopped yourself down on the concrete floor and hailed defeat. You tossed the small, silver Allen key onto the floor in Harry's direction and rested your chin in your palm.

A few minutes of watching his embittered attempts passed before he spoke.

"Hey Sulky, I can feel you looking at me," Harry was frowning at the short piece of timber in his hand, he was holding it next to what was supposed to be the base of the structure. This was your second attempt at pulling apart the shelves and starting again while you cursed the entire Swedish furniture empire. You were enjoying seeing Harry's stubborn frustration immensely.

He could be such a man sometimes.

"Yeah, 'cause you're hot," you said, mocking him dreamily.

"Ha ha," he drawled, rolling his shoulders back to try to regain his focus.

When he paused a moment later and looked up at you, his arms dropped as his brow softened and he let out a breath.

You grinned at him, "I'm pretty cute too, right?"

"All this shit is going to end up living on the ground because you're sabotaged the assembly!" He gestured wildly at the tools and spare paint colours for the house lying around you. His bike parts and the weird assortment of garden tools Harry collected were leaning against the wall waiting to be put on their new home as well, the shelf neither you nor Harry were skilled enough to put together.

"Baby," you began, but Harry waved you off, and you saw genuine frustration start to emerge on his face, "Okay! Okay, I'm sorry," you stressed, "Are you sure we're looking at this thing from the right way around? Maybe the designer meant for it to be wonky?"

He rolled his eyes at you. As if the mere thought anyone would design anything to look like the mess currently on the floor was purely preposterous—his temper for small frustrations on full display.

"Don't be rude!" You admonished, "It's a fucking shelf, we can do this, Harry."

It took you another hour and a half, but when it was done, Harry draped his arm around your shoulders, kissed you on the head and told you that you were the person he wanted by his side of all his future crisis. Someone to say to him, whatever the challenge was, it wasn't beyond him, wasn't something he couldn't handle or wasn't capable of.

You felt like you were floating that night.

It was one of those few times you could see your imprint on his life. See some evidence of it. There were shelves in his garage only there because you told him he needed storage there, and then you pushed him to keep trying assembling them. It was some proof you'd been in his life. An impression of your influence. A memory that would hover in his garage forever.

Two days after putting the shelves together, you and Harry had an argument about the plastic tubs he went off on his own to buy for all the loose bits and pieces he wanted to go on the shelves. You were annoyed he didn't purchase wooden ones, and he couldn't understand why it mattered that they were white plastic which would apparently be impossible to keep clean.

It's a garage, he thought, who's cleaning their garage?

And because arguments always dredge up things that they aren't supposed to, you made a jab about your relationship being secret.

You said something like, If I'd been able to come with you, we wouldn't be having this row!

Harry knew what you really meant straight away. You'd been together for more than nine months at that point, and nobody knew about it: nobody but your families and very very closest friends. There were no photos of Harry having lunch with you at a cafe, or of you walking a few steps behind him at the shops. Nobody had snuck a picture of you backstage at a show of his. He'd never appeared on your social media, even by suggestion, and Harry had never taken the risk including you on any private Instagram Stories.

Those photographs didn't exist, because those circumstances never had. There wasn't even a celebrity paper trail linking you to knowing Harry, let alone dating him. Harry didn't dedicate performances to you, or even to an unnamed significant other. You never got a song or an album dedication. Harry was so adamant on nobody getting wind of the relationship that sometimes it felt like … Like he enjoyed the sneaking around. The having a secret. (Later on, when you reflected on the relationship once it was over, you really weren't sure how there'd never been even one instance of you being seen coming or going from Harry's house. Hindsight made that feel suss to you.)

Most of the time you liked it, though, liked not having any fuss or interruption to your life but sometimes—a lot of the time—it felt like something silently eroding you from the inside—a silent acid eating your spirit.

But you'd never tell Harry that. Then anyway. Now … You're not sure what you'd tell him now.

The truth was a lot of the time you weren't sure how you'd managed to keep it going so long. Part of it was obvious, maybe, like not being in public together. But still, surely after being together months and having arguments about shelves you could afford a platonic appearing coffee trip or going for a run at the same time, together?

Instead, you'd gear up and run in opposite directions down his street. Or Harry would stay in the car while you went in for the coffee. You'd sit in a nosebleed seat if you went to a show, sneaking through some fire exit and into the main hallways of a venue with the public to get to it. You looked like a sad woman attending a gig on your own, not the girlfriend of the star.

Nobody would know you even knew the man up on stage. That you had something in the slow cooker at home for you both to eat when you got home, or that he'd stolen a tube of your favourite lip balm and had it in his blazer pocket for his set. Nobody would guess you made him late for the soundcheck with just a smile and the undoing of a zip.

Seeing him tonight would be just like it always was, you and Harry from across the room. But then not like always, because Harry wouldn't see you tonight. You wouldn't have the taste of a good luck kiss on your lips. Or the sound of Harry's warm-up in your ears. Yours was always an invisible connection that was kept invisible by design, and now being broken up, it looked no different than together. Not really.

Tonight though it would only be you seeing Harry. Like you see him on late-night talk show promotions and billboards. Like the times you get into an Uber, and his song is playing. How strange it feels, to have your heart crack in your chest again while also lifting somehow. Singing along with a song about you. Or hearing his laugh or even just Harry speaking, and being able to picture the exact expression that would go along with it.

Every raised inflection. Ever breathy giggle. Every brow crease at a thought that Harry was chasing or somehow unable to articulate. All of those turning into you picturing what he looked like every time he knew he was disappointing you. Every whined sorry and all the instances of him loving on you to move your mind away from his deficiencies.

"What's the plan for Y/N?"

If your relationship with Harry was a t-shirt, that would be the slogan across the chest. Those would be the words under the cartoon impression of you banging your head against a wall Harry's standing on the other side of.

How will Y/N get in? Who's staying behind with Y/N? Where will I meet up with Y/N?

There was always a question. Always a plan for you and it was decidedly separate to the plan for Harry. His team organised a second car or an earlier flight for you. A back entrance or some other smokescreen to keep you concealed. In the beginning, it felt like a kindness, but in the end, you were embarrassed by it. The bother, the way what started as a careful consideration for your wellbeing turned into something rotten that painted you a different colour to Harry and his public inner circle, the circle you were never invited or initiated into.

It was exhausting. But Harry assured you it was for the best.

You wonder what the future he saw for you really was though. How much further did Harry see a life like that going? A life with you perpetually operating under cover of darkness. A life of you decidedly not existing. Not really.

So when he said he saw a future with you, you're really not sure what Harry meant.

Did he mean one day he saw himself lifting the veil and telling the world he had a Someone? Or did he mean that he saw himself forever hiding you, forever living that lie?

Maybe he actually saw nothing.

Sometimes you could be convinced the fact Harry hid you was an action pointing to a more profound truth.

That the future he saw was an imagined indulgence; a convenience, and a comfortable lie. Comforting on a temporary level, like bowling alley bumper rails or the plastic covering on a new watch face. The fake sense of security—of protection, of immaculacy—was just that, artificial and temporary. It ceased to exist the minute you plucked the corner and pulled back the protective layer. Crashed as soon as the bumpers were flipped down.

You were a secret only Harry had any power over. He led from the front because you didn't know there was any other option. And in letting yourself be that, you made yourself easily dispensable.

Disposable. Replaceable. Erasable.

Which is precisely what happened when he left.

Harry left, and the You of the two of you ended. But more than any other relationship ever could, the silence that followed felt deadly. It wasn't just a relationship that once was, it was a relationship that never was. A year of your life made no imprint on his. Nobody looking at him could know there was anything—anybody—missing, and maybe that was the whole point.

Maybe that was the design of it.

+

The third lie was that you could tell him anything.

Harry's golden rule always was honest communication.

There's no such thing as an overshare, he'd say when you naturally hesitated.

He was all about that. All about hearing what was worrying you, or the mundane things that were going on in your world. Sometimes you felt like maybe it was an act because nobody had ever found your family, or your friends, or your life in general as interesting as Harry seemed to. He was always telling you he loved hearing the funny text conversations going on, or who was having a row and why, or what each of your friends was stressed about in their jobs or relationships or themselves. And Harry always said he loved hearing it from you the most.

(Now, that struck you as a strange thing to say. Where else would he hear anything about you? Harry was the only line connecting you back to him. You didn't have mutual friends or people who'd known you both before you dated each other. There was nobody for Harry to hear anything from. It's not like your friends were going to reach out to him with gossip about you. Not like how you could sneak a look at update accounts or read about his performance online while he was away.)

Still, you loved the stories he told from the road, ate them up. The missing coffee mugs where everyone got their caffeine fix served in wine glasses and lemonade tumblers for almost two whole weeks. And then the tour t-shirts accidentally ordered in bulk in children's sizes that Harry hand-delivered them to a local children's charity. The crumbs of gossip Harry picked up about who in his team was sweet on who (he loved a setup, loved watching crushes silently and awkwardly orbit around each other).

Your secrets were safe with him, he promised. He wouldn't ever judge you. Wouldn't dismiss your feelings or what kept you awake at night next to him. So you did it. You believed him. And you slowly drained everything inside of you into him. Harry got all your stories, even the ones you vowed to leave exactly where they sat in your past. Even the ones you felt like might kill you to dredge back up. The ones that made you look like a shitty friend or sister or daughter. He got them all.

And even now, he's still got them.

"What's the biggest lie you ever told?" He asked you one night in his kitchen, both of you elbow deep in making dinner. Harry rolled out the lines of gnocchi and cut the inch long pieces while you pressed them over a fork to decoratively indent them. (Although Harry likes to tell you how when he was in Italy he learned in patterns weren't just aesthetic—it was all about soaking up more of the sauce, For the sauce, of course! He'd sing out in an Italian accent, proud of himself.) "Like, a proper lie," he clarified, "Not like how you told my mum you didn't take sugar in your tea when you first met her."

You hinged your knee out to attack his calf for the teasing comment but then rolled your lips together in thought, "I lied to my parents a lot growing up," you told him honestly. "I think about eighty per cent of the time I wasn't where I told them I was. Definitely wasn't with who I said I was with."

Harry shook his head as he rolled out the next lump of dough, "No, I mean like … Like a lie."

A moment passed as you thought more deeply about the question, travelled around your memories until you landed somewhere suitable, "I lied to my boyfriend at university," you begin. "A pretty bad one, I guess."

"And the lie was …" Harry prompts.

"I told him I was a virgin before him."

Harry eyes raised, and then he nodded, accepting it, "I think that's probably a common one, really."

"I thought he'd like me more if I said it," I admitted quietly, pausing the work with your hands. "Wasn't too proud of losing my virginity in a tent in the sixth form … And I mean, at that age you just so desperately want to be the version of you that you think the people around you will like the most. A whole group of us went camping at someone's grandparent's farm during the summer holidays. Not sure how our parents let us, to be honest. Anyway, I had awful, painful, embarrassing sex in a tent with a guy named … Dylan Fraiser."

You were surprised by how long the name took to come to you. Years ago, that was such a defining event in your life. Now it hardly mattered at all anymore.

Progress, you thought.

"A tent," Harry winced.

"Really came back to bite me in the arse when my uni boyfriend went on to tell a group of his mates he was my first and—

—Tent Guy was one of them?" Harry guessed. Correctly.

"Yep. Small towns are a curse."

"I promise never to have sex with you in a tent," Harry teased, grinning at you over his wine glass and then leaning over to kiss your temple. He looked down at the line of gnocchi pieces you'd made together proudly, "We're alright at this."

"Hmmm," you hummed, now lost in the past, "I told that uni boyfriend him I loved him … I didn't though," you say without thinking, shrugging as the words came out, "I thought he was boring. But it was cool to have a boyfriend, so I didn't break up with him … Guess I've told more whoppers than I thought."

Harry gives you an understanding look, "I've said I love you to protect someone's feelings too. Thought it might come a little later, that I was just not feeling it as quickly as them."

It should have made you question whether Harry meant I love you with you. But it didn't. He was speaking in the past tense, and you were imaging that version of him being younger than the almost thirty-year-old you were dating. Now though … You wonder what love meant to Harry when you were together. Whether your wires were crossed by different definitions. Even now, you couldn't vilify him. Not completely. He was too thoughtful in general, there'd be a reason for it. There always was with Harry.

"What's your biggest lie?" You turned the exercise back on him, smiling as he refilled your wine glass and skipped a few songs on the playlist. These were your favourite moments with Harry. The end of the day, where you were the only thing on his to-do list. There wasn't a lingering work call, or a meeting to prepare for, an email to reply to. Harry was just finishing his day with dinner and some time at home. With you.

Harry gave you a withering look, "I think you know already."

"I don't," you said because you really didn't, "What was it?"

"There's no way I'll ever do anything else with The Band," he said tonelessly as he turned to rinse his hands in the sink, unable to look at you while he said it. And even then, Harry didn't admit to the lie. Didn't name it. He just said what the truth was instead.

"Why wouldn't you?" You asked, instead of what you were sure Harry thought you'd ask.

You weren't interested in why he told that particular lie though, the answer to that was pretty apparent to you: he cared about his fans—they all did—and didn't want to disappoint them. And they probably hadn't been able to deal with thinking about the ripples ending it completely, right off the bat, would have caused. Saying you were taking a break was a much nicer way to let a world of fans down. An easier pill to swallow than 'We're done' straight off the bat.

You gave Harry time to respond. He fiddled with the gnocchi pieces in front of him, waiting for the water to boil in the pot behind you both, "Not sure, really."

He was lying now, and you could tell. He was ashamed of the truth.

"You're not sure?"

"I just wouldn't, there's no one reason. No big thing. It's not like I hate them all or anything, I just …"

There was one big thing, though. And it was typical Harry to not be able to name it. He was always so in denial about his own arrogance, about what it was that drove him. Harry thought he was above them. His success since The Band far outweighed anything any of the others had done. Going back to that would be diminishing for Harry's career. Wouldn't help him any. He was stronger on his own, more successful. More widely appreciated. That chapter of his life was done, it had been a stepping stone—yes, a life-defining one—but Harry had moved to bigger and brighter stages on his own.

"It's not what you think," he told you lowly when you didn't ask anything further.

It was so typical of Harry to not see the forest for the trees. To not see how he, yet again, was blurring and confusing the lines between a business decision and an emotional, personal one. He was speaking about The Band emotionally, but his reason for distancing himself from it was all to do with business.

"It's not?" You asked plainly.

"I don't think I'm better than them or some shit," Harry said, "I just … That part of me is done. I'm not who I was back then, and I don't want to go back to that person."

"You also wouldn't get anything out of it," you prod, knowing that you shouldn't have. But it was true. So much of Harry's life was a business decision. Everything was so carefully done, so deliberately set into place by him and his team that results and his successes were almost guaranteed.

At the time, you didn't understand how he couldn't see it. Or you couldn't believe that he didn't. He was so calculating, and he hated you telling him so. But he was. He liked to say he wasn't defined by his job, but Harry's whole life was defined by his career, by the who he was.

He loved to spout off his public shit about staying grounded and having a life away from being Harry Styles ™, but he didn't let anyone see even a skerrick that life. The only thing Harry ever let be projected about him was his job, that was all was ever on the table for discussion. And so it was hardly surprising that became who he was away from the cameras and lights as well.

Hiding you was a business decision, you figured out in the aftermath of The End. It was his way of keeping the narrative about his music and career on track. As soon as there was a You, Harry's private life would distract from his real focus and goal, his career. And you mean, it's not like it didn't work for him. Because here you were, standing outside in the chilly night looking at his name up in lights.

Harry's name always looked so good up on billboards and the fronts of stadiums. You always used to tell him even the letters of his name were visually pleasing, they looked good together, like they fit. So you stand on the street across the road from tonight's venue and take it in—HARRY STYLES, SOLD OUT—for several minutes.

You don't know that you're ready for this. Seeing him. You've so perfectly avoided it until now. Until you felt like there was a promise you made lifetimes ago you now can't break. Even if you felt like he'd broken a thousand promises between the two points in time.

Where else would I be? you'd said when he first drew that stupid mock ticket.

Where else, indeed.

You scuttle across the street and sneak between people to get yourself in through the doors. Dodging lenders selling merchandise and ticket holders excitedly covering their painstakingly planned outfits with t-shirts Harry—aided by his perfectionism, you were sure— probably spent months deciding on.

The barcode won't scan though. And the usher at the door doesn't appreciate you pulling your phone back and trying to adjust the backlight, as though that will help the loud, angry sound his scanner is making each time he aims it at the email on your screen. He eventually reads part of your email and then tells you that you need to stand off to the side, barks something gruffly into his walkie talkie and dismisses you in favour of getting through the backlog of people behind you. You're filled with a white-hot embarrassment as you shuffle over and stand under a neon EXIT sign. A moment later you step forward and ask him to try again, but that doesn't get you anywhere different, and you think you're going to get in some kind of trouble when he insists Just stand back over there for a moment.

Your feet have already started hurting in your too-tight boots when finally the wall behind you opens up, and you very quickly come face to face with Harry's assistant.

"Y/N," she smiles, "I thought I said in the email to call me when you got here?"

You're dumbstruck, you didn't read the email, not properly. "I … I …"

"It's good to see you again," her smile hasn't moved, and it's genuine. She reaches one hand out towards you and deposits a VIP lanyard around your neck, "Follow me."

You get halfway down the emergency exit, and she sidesteps a security guard through a doorway, leading you into the veins of the backstage area where there's a familiar buzz of busy people you'd not realised you missed being around until now. Your heart is racing because you weren't prepared for this. You'd been deliberately dragging your feet getting here, and you've arrived barely fifteen minutes before Harry's due to go on stage. She's walked you right to the side of the stage where there's a curtain just to your left and scaffolding all around. You can hear the audience, and you know that one step through that curtain will take you to the pit side of the stage, where you'd seen Harry's family stand during shows before.

"He wanted to say hi beforehand but," his assistant looks at her watch, "But it's a touch too close now so are you okay if I leave you here for just a second? I'll be back in …" her eyes go back to her wrist, "Probably about twenty-five?"

"That's fine," you nod dumbly. "Are you sure this okay?"

You're looking around wondering if this is where Harry meant you to be. Really, you're sure this isn't where he intended you to watch his show at all. A few people are milling around but nobody you recognise, and you figure the majority of them are probably venue employees. Harry and his band would only walk through here at the very last second. He didn't like standing around beforehand with anyone who wouldn't be on stage with him. Harry got in his zone and needed to stay there.

When you look back at his assistant she's giving you a look you don't want to read too deeply, but it almost looks like pity, "Of course," she tells you, "I'll be back by the end of the first song."

"I might go stand through here now," you point to the curtain, preferring the thought of standing in the dark by yourself than waiting for Harry to walk straight past you during his thirty-second countdown. "Is that okay?"

You get a nod, and she tells you to grab a drink off the table behind you. Leaving you with your heart rattling and the heaviest lanyard you've ever worn burning through your shirt to your chest.

Finding a spot to watch the show was easy. You picked the furthest side of the pit, under the concrete overhand of the seats above, and stand in the shadows, only half the stage in your line of sight. It felt like a little cave almost, and you lean your back against the cold concrete and tap your boots together on the ground below you.

The area starts filling around you as members of Harry's team finish their part in preparing him for the show. There are a few women wearing belts with makeup brushes and combs peaking out of them, and two familiar faces from Harry's executive team. They don't see you, though, and you're glad. You watch the roadies' torches flash on the dark stage as they neaten up leads and manoeuvre over amp boxes double-checking the guitars are in the right order for the sets.

There's a movement in your periphery that draws your attention back, the group of people who joined you in the pit all gravitating towards something back at the curtain. And it's not until one of them steps to the side that you see the floating head that's poking through the dark material.

Harry.

He's staring right at you: no expression on his face, just his searching, green eyes that stop when they see you standing in the dark as far from him as you can possibly be. He takes half a step forward, and the shoulder of an expensive suit peeks out. You hear in your head echos of a moment in Harry's living room unpacking a delivery from Gucci, the way you nearly choked on your tea at the cost of a tailored trouser and his half frustrated dismissal, 'It's nothing, that's standard for me.' You felt small at that moment, thinking about how one of Harry's suits could pay for your education for a year, and that would be nothing for him.

You feel small now too. This isn't the space you're supposed to occupy.

The shadow of a frown barely cross his features, but then Harry tries to pull his dimples up to give you a small smile. But it's testing, it's not a confident smile or one he looks sure he's giving. Like he's smiling at someone he's not sure will smile back.

There's no way I'll ever do anything else with the band, he'd said.

But that wasn't the biggest lie he'd told, just the most public, the widest.

His deepest, biggest lie was you.

+

The fourth lie was that he loved you.

Harry was the one to say it first.

It came out like a compliment. A response to a fact of yours he'd particularly liked. A sort of well done, that was a good one.

It was nearly two months since you'd met, and what started as three or four dates a week morphed into you staying at Harry's house most nights. You spending your weekends off work trailing around after him on his errands or to work things, or hanging out alone at his place until he returned from them. A couple of times, you went to the same exercise class, which involved the two of you going separately and not interacting at all. Still, you'd peek at him from across the room and have to hold your giggles for later when Harry spent the hour concentrating beyond anything you'd ever seen just to stay in the seat of the spin bike.

Saturdays and Sundays he started taking off too though, around a month into dating you. No more 6am weekend PT sessions or midday conference calls with creative teams. The only work Harry allowed himself to do on weekends was housework. Laundry. Food prep. Touching base with his mum.

"Did you know blueberries are actually false berries?"

"No, I did not know blueberries are actually false berries," Harry parroted back to you. You catch the half rolling of his eyes at you where you're sitting up in your favourite spot on the bench next to the hob, peering at him keeping careful watch over breakfast: blueberry pancakes. He was wearing just his pants, chest bare and cool in the autumn morning air. You were rugged up in leggings and a sweater, unsure how he could stand being in such a state of undress.

"It's true," you reaffirmed your tidbit, popping a false berry into your mouth while Harry—with far too much concentration for the job at hand—dropped the small round berries on top of the batter sizzling in the pan. "Berries by definition are fleshy, pulpy ovary fruits that have their seeds embedded on the outside. Blueberry seeds are on the inside. So they aren't really berries."

"Ovary fruits?" He questioned, with a look of mild distaste.

Your shoulders dropped as you realised Harry knew less than you thought he did, "All fruit are ovaries, Harry. Think about it."

He does for a moment, and you can practically see the cogs turning. Harry thinking about how fruit grows on their plants and bushes and shrubs. The fact of what an ovary is when it comes to basic anatomy. And when he comes to the full circle of it, he groans, "That is so weird."

"I think it's cool," you grinned. "Like a little bit cannibalistic in a way."

He barked out a laugh at that, "I don't think that's what it is."

"Well, maybe not technically," you conceded, "But it's something … Really makes you rethink eating eggs."

"Oh my god," Harry was truly laughing then, "Stop, please."

"Sorry," you peeped with a cringed look, tossing back half a handful of the small, round fruit in front of you.

He was shaking his head at you, laughter bubbling out between his perfectly straight teeth, and then it just slipped out, "Fuck, I love you."

The words didn't bump over any hesitation. I love you, Harry said.

Your stomach dropped instantly, but the fond happiness dancing across Harry's face didn't go anywhere. He didn't look back at the pancakes or to where your hands were wringing together on your lap. Harry held your gaze and didn't dodge away from what he said at all. Like he knew you'd need a moment with it, that you weren't expecting him to just come out with that.

"I love you," he repeated after a moment, smiling when he saw your lips start to turn up, "I mean it."

Hearing him yell the same words through the microphone from stage sizzles your heart a little, like the pancakes that day crackled in the pan as Harry pushed himself into you on the kitchen floor. You remember the feeling of his hands under your clothes, your leggings barely halfway down your thighs before he was claiming you in a wave of lust, pushed by the new, invisible force in your relationship—love.

The floor under you now vibrates as everyone gets to their feet to join Harry dancing through his first song. You stare at him, daring him to look over at you but knowing he won't. The longer you stand there, the more you thaw out to it, the more you find yourself with a smile on your face and a slight sway to your hips. His music is fun and familiar and feels like clicking into place.

It's mesmerising. He's mesmerising.

You don't like admitting you'd forgotten how good at this he was. He has the whole crowd eating out of the palm of his hand. Even his crew around you are grinning ear to ear and singing along. Sharing private jokes between them and cutting dance moves in small groups as they watch the show. It's fun. And it reminds you that so much of your relationship with Harry was like that. That there were countless nights spent dancing in the living room or screaming at laptop screens doing board game nights with his family.

You'd forgotten that you could laugh so hard your belly hurt and that Harry was one of the few people who'd ever been able to get you to that point of joy. Watching him throw joy off the stage now at thousands of people was reminding you how very good Harry was—used to be—at making you feel like the only person in the world to him.

"Babe," his giggles filtered down the hallway and into the bathroom where you were plucking your eyebrows, "Babe! Come … Come see this."

You rolled your eyes as you put the tweezers down and padded into his living room, not at all surprised to see Harry pretzeled on his yoga mat in a fit of laughter. He did this a lot, called you away from a task or from work for something hilarious that ninety-nine per cent of the time wasn't hilarious at all. You'd end up snorting out laughter of your own though, at him.

Now, Harry had one of his feet hooked behind his neck while the other was prostrate on the floor behind him.

"You're doing great, baby," you condescended lightly, tilting your head to the side and frowning at his position. It looked awful and not at all calming, let alone comfortable. He wasn't a very good advertisement for yoga at all.

"They say this one's great for—great for," he giggled too much to get the words out, his arms holding his torso back so his legs would do what he wanted them to, he took a deep breath, "It's meant to be the yoga colonic."

Harry was heaving with laughter as he finally got it out, his position faltered, and you watched as his limbs all fell back to the mat as he leant forward cackling. You were grinning too, amused by how amused he was.

"Been feeling backed up, have you?" You asked him, crossing your arms as you hitch one hip out.

He rolled over on his back and wheezed out the final string of laughter, one hand holding his lower tummy as if it ached from the whole spectacle, as his other hand reached out for your ankle, "Come down here with me."

"Hmm," you hummed, pretending to be unhappy to be dragged down on top of him, your hips resting on his thighs as your chin propped up on your hands at his chest, "It's very entertaining how entertaining you find yourself," you mused.

Harry rubbed the tears from his eyes and then settled his hands on your back, breathing in the pleasant weight of you there, "I just—I was thinking about what they think the yoga colonic is going to do." His giggles started again, "Imagine being in a class and it literally working? Everyone just—everyone just shits themselves!"

You can feel his laugher, his bones pushing yours up as his whole body fills with his happiness. The stream of tears coming from the corners of his eyes start again as he squeezed his eyes shut while the sound of Harry's deep, uninhibited laughter filled the whole house again.

The memory brings back a smile, like so many with Harry do.

But there's still the Too Fresh Sting of your final moments with him, your last moments with him. You've not seen him since that evening months ago where you both yapped at each other things that couldn't be unsaid, unhappinesses that couldn't be reverted or unadmitted. It wasn't like the fights you had about Harry's casualised view of money and how he'd drop thousands of pounds on seemingly nothing without thinking how small it could make you feel. Or the times you'd snap in frustration when Harry tuned out of you complaining about an issue with your friends he deemed as superfluous or rooted in something silly or not as essential as the Important Thing He Was Planning. He could be so dismissive when he didn't think something mattered highly enough on his scale of measuring things.

The Harry dancing around on stage in front of you wasn't the man who said you were independent like it was a dirty word. Yelled across the kitchen that it was too easy for the two of you to be apart, you didn't miss him enough. The man who told you he didn't feel like you needed him, thought you were always standing with one foot out the door the whole time you were together. And you can remember being flabbergasted (still are, really) by what he was saying because it just wasn't true at all. You? Too independent? You spent every night at his house, and were at Harry's beck and call the whole relationship. And you can hear all the times you said 'what would I do without you?' when he talked you off a ledge or had answers to questions you believed to be unanswerable.

You can see how it was another classic example of Harry telling a non-truth to cover up what was really there. To distract from his own shortcomings. He accused you of what he was feeling, of his flaws. Making them your problem meant he didn't have to be vulnerable. Didn't have to take a risk his business manager hadn't guaranteed. Didn't have to gamble on your future together.

In the relationship, he always had the upper hand. And maybe you did have one foot out the door emotionally, but that was only because you had to. Harry never invited you in with him completely. You were always on the outer. After nearly a year of dating you were still The Girlfriend He Didn't Have.

But I fucking love you, he'd said when he sensed where that night was going. Like Harry had a list of grievances, and it wasn't until he got to the end of reading them out to you that he realised where it landed him. He told you he loved you as though it would erase all the things about you he seemed to dislike so much. Things about yourself you apparently couldn't see.

Hindsight has taught you that if anyone was too independent, or hesitant to commit fully in that relationship, it was Harry.

Halfway through his set, Harry's assistant comes over to check on you, and you end up chatting for a few minutes about how you've been. She speaks to you like there was some club you were a member of and she missed your meetings. Although neither of you references the breakup, or acknowledge in another life you had a lot more to do with each other, the unspoken things weigh on your chest. You find yourself wiping away a quiet tear when she walks back over to the main group watching Harry.

Of course, that's when he teeters over to your side of the stage and looks straight at you. His expression falls instantly, and you're sure that he only meant to glance at you in passing, but what he sees has him doing a double-take and fixing his gaze on you for two lines of the song he's midway through. He tugs on the collar of his shirt and Harry's eyes are desperately trying to read what you're thinking, just like that day he told you he loved you at the end of the breakup, as though you'd forget everything that came before it.

You stick your thumb out to him and give him your best fake smile. Like he might be led to believe you were crying about something else. As if you hadn't just pulled his attention from a room full of people who'd paid for his attention tonight. At that moment you think the fact there's a secret love and life between you must be too obvious to everyone else. There's a connection, something whirls around the room between you and it feels threatening and perilous to how you've been trained to think things have to be.

You wait until Harry turns and goes the other way across the stage before you push off from the wall and walk out.

At first, love was an encouragement between you. It was approval, a showing of appreciation. Love was a promise that was just for the two of you. A declaration that validated everything you were doing together. Love was a feeling that proved what every action meant.

Then, love was a bandaid, was a line used in desperation to fix something unfixable, and you walk the world with skun knees now because of it. Love was never just love. It was used to fix the wrong things.

And in the end, nothing healed at all.

+

The fifth lie was that he'd always fight for you.

Harry promised you that the two of you would make it work.

You'd make up after every argument, big or small. The little ones that were those tiny bickerings in the car which somehow roared into yelling matches. Or when one person's grumpiness from the day leaked into your evening together. You always expected his call or the long sigh that would precede his apology. You never got halfway home to your house if you left his after a row. He'd call and beg for you to come back, that nothing was worth you physically leaving being near him. You left knowing before the night was done the two of you would reconcile.

Until it was That Fight you were leaving after. The one that began The End.

It started because Harry was overseas for a few weeks. While he was away, you suggested the two of you going on a holiday together during the summer. An anniversary trip. From the other side of the world, it was easy enough for Harry to worm his way of out of it. He went off on a tangent about there being no holidays (rest) for the wicked and then got you talking about something else until you forgot how you'd been sold on the idea of lying on a beach with him for a week.

When Harry got home, you had it stored in an unhappy little pocket in your mind. Top of the agenda for when he returned.

"Can we talk about the holiday thing again?" You asked his first night home.

He sighed against you, his body gearing up for a reunion that didn't involve speaking, lips attached to your neck while his hands danced around the band of your bra, "Do we have to right now?"

"Well," your instinct was to back away from the tension rising between you, "I'd like to."

Harry pushed his hair up off his face and briefly looked at the ceiling, "I don't see how we can, babe. It's too hard, logistically. Just take a week off work and stay with me here."

"I already stay here," you counter, "I'm talking about a holiday somewhere. A beach. Or a ski resort. Something fun and different."

"Those places are all busy," Harry complained, his hands off you. He started to pack the dishwasher from dinner.

"I just want to go away with you, do something normal, you know?"

He clipped the side of the sink with a dinner plate and swore angrily under his breath, "Fuck."

"Don't get angry."

"I'm not fucking angry," he growled, tossing your forks into the plastic crate, "I just fucking got home, and you're straight into this. No 'I missed you so much' or 'It's so great to see you'… Just straight into going on a holiday as if I have endless time to mess about."

"What do you mean? We've just eaten dinner together, you told me all about your trip. I said I was happy to have you home!"

"Yeah, well, feels like you just don't give a fuck that I'm back."

You frowned at him starting to get annoyed yourself, "I cried on our FaceTime call on the weekend because I missed you! You have a lobotomy since then?"

"Don't yell," Harry instructed quietly like he was chastising a child for not controlling themselves.

"What's this about, Harry?" You asked. "Why is it such a crime for me to want to go away with my boyfriend?"

He sighed again, "It's not."

"Right," you crossed your arms over your chest and wondered how many times he could wipe down the chopping board.

Probably one more time.

"So …"

"So what?" Harry repeated, "What do you want from me?"

His words and their harshness shocked you, and that was the exact moment you started worrying this was going to turn into Something Else. Not just a Normal Fight.

"I want you to tell me why you're so annoyed by this?"

It would have been so easy for you to break down and scream about how insane it was that you were talking about celebrating your first anniversary with him and the relationship was still a secret. How badly you wanted to throw that out there, but there was a wise fear in you which said that would be a death wish. (That fact haunts you today, how you knew he'd never step out with you. There wasn't any hope in you or promise from him it wouldn't always be that way. You knew your place and where the boundary line was, don't push past this point. And you always behaved. Never peeped out of your box.)

"It's like you don't even need me," Harry said bitterly, "You're so fucking independent. What's the point?"

"What are you talking about?" You gushed, nearly swallowing your tongue when he turned back to look at you for the first time.

"You don't need me," he accused, "You've always got one foot out the door."

"I don't," came your defence, but you both knew it was the truth. You were halfway out the door because you hadn't been invited all the way in yet.

"You don't want this life with me," Harry shook his head, "You've never been happy where we are. Relationships don't work that way, you can't just keep demanding the same thing hoping you'll wear me down. That's not fair."

Tears shake out of your eyes slowly as your body catches up with what he's saying, "Harry."

"It's not fair!" He repeated loudly. "You can't keep on about it."

About what? You want to ask him because you hadn't mentioned a holiday until the week before. That's not what he was really angry about. He was talking about The Secret. And his guilt was showing. His anger was misdirected, aimed at the wrong thing. He muttered something to himself you didn't hear.

"I didn't hear that."

"I said," Harry looked up at you, and when your eyes clicked together you saw surprise rise and then quickly disappear as if he hadn't expected to see you there. "I said, I don't think we can keep doing this."

"You don't think we can keep doing this?" You repeated it because the words hardly sounded like English the first time you heard them.

I don't think we can keep doing this.

Harry stood across from you with no expression on his face. And it took a few moments for him to own up to what he said, but he does. He nods his head once, awkwardly, and then nods again.

"We can't keep doing this," he tells you, sounding defeated, and then his voice rises again—in pitch, not in volume—"But I fucking love you!"

But I fucking love you.

As if that was enough.

It was days of you expecting a call, and a make up that never came. Expecting the fight for your relationship Harry promised you he'd always put up. You wanted him to prove that you were someone he couldn't do without. You hated the thought of him walking around his house and not feeling the absence of you as some impossible weight he couldn't bear.

"Y/N!" Your name sounds out behind you, but you keep walking, an instantaneous decision that pretending not to hear her might work.

Unsurprisingly, it doesn't.

Harry's assistant keeps chasing you down the hall she initially led you through, calling your name and eventually getting you to stop and turn around because, well, you can't keep pretending she's not there forever.

"I'm just finding a loo," you lie.

"There's one this way," she points over her shoulder, in the direction you both came from, "Harry said if you tried to leave I had to go with you, which, for my own dignity I'd really prefer not to have to do."

You find yourself scoffing, "Who said he's in charge of how long I stay?"

Her expression softens somewhat, "He just wants to see you after."

How dare he think he can control this still, you think.

You know she's not the person to be frustrated with. You should be frustrated with yourself first, for coming, and then with Harry for deciding he could orchestrate this … This whatever it was. Still, you find yourself biting out your reply, "He saw me from stage," you tell her bitterly.

"And he'll have seen that you're not there anymore," she replies patiently,, "It'll throw off his focus if he's worried you've gone home halfway through."

You fall into step beside her but can't give him the win, "Quite frankly, it's not my concern or responsibility anymore if his focus is thrown or not."

She wordlessly points out where the bathrooms are just in front of you. You're trying not to make eye contact with anyone who's in these backstage hallways. They feel like ghosts from a life that's not yours anymore.

The first time you met any of Harry's People you'd felt absolutely mortified. The whole thing felt awkward to you, meeting assistants and managers and creative directors. Putting faces and humans to jobs done for Harry. He was a lot of people's boss, and it made you uncomfortable because you'd not seen that side to him before. You knew things like how hot he liked his showers and what yogurt he liked on his muesli in the morning.

That first—and only—step into his professional world, was in a venue just like this one where Harry was filming a music video for a few days. The stage was set up like it was for live a show, and you overheard someone saying setting up for a shoot was more involved than for an actual performance. Harry wanted you to see what this part of his world looked like and despite them not fitting in either of the Friends or Family categories you'd laid out for People Allowed To Know About You, his "Team" were people Harry felt safe introducing to you. (NDAs were a powerful thing) He led you through the hallways by the hand and stuck his head into every room with a cheery, 'Hullo, just bringing Y/N around to meet everyone.'

You remember one person declaring they were happy to be meeting you. Harry was too young to be married to his job, they said with a relieved tone, That it was good he'd found his Someone. Harry beamed at that, looking down at you as if thinking, Yeah, I have found my Someone.

Now you stand back in the pit side of stage, and Harry looks down at you with a hesitation that makes you more uncomfortable than when you were watching him film that music video. His assistant has brought you back to where his team are standing, and you feel more than one set of eyes take stock of you returning, a shared glance between a manager and the girl shadowing you. A wide-eyed exchange that says, That was the last thing we needed. When Harry comes to the side of stage between songs, he's hunting for a bottle of water, but you can see he's come to that side because his eyes are focused on hunting for you.

When he sees you've returned, he slowly takes a sip of water, eyes not leaving yours. You feel like he's admonishing you in his head, seeing how weak you were, that you ran away after a little eye contact. There's a distaste there, you think, and as he's putting the cap back on the bottle, Harry opens his mouth like he's going to try to say something to you, but he stops. He frowns at his hands as he puts the bottle down and then turns away, bringing the microphone back up to his lips and slipping back into entertainer mode.

"In a lot of ways, I hate this next song," he starts slowly, speaking over the band as they begin to slow down the tempo of the night. A smoke machine whirls to life and pumps out a few big clouds, shrouding the stage behind Harry. "I really hate it."

He pauses. And your insides freeze in your chest. You're hanging off his every word, just like every other body in the room. Harry stands right on the front of the stage, toes almost touching the drop off. He's looking out at the audience and lets the microphone hang at his side. Makes no move to keep talking. Was he looking for someone out there, or was he running over what he was about to say in his head? Rehearsing it, making sure it was exactly what needed to be said.

Where you used to see thoughtfulness you now see calculation.

Give nothing away. Sell only the product. Push the song. Let people come to their own conclusions.

"This is a song about," he says carefully, a crack to his voice that sends adrenaline shooting straight down your legs, "About regretting that you've hurt someone. And about the helplessness of wishing you could make them forget what you said, but … Knowing you can't take it back."

You watched Harry trail around to the upright piano on stage and sit himself down on the stool. He stares at his hands hovering over the keys for a moment too long, but you're sure Harry's audience would let him take a hundred more. You see what perhaps they don't—the hesitation. You'd witnessed it enough to spot it, even across the stage in the dark from thirty feet away.

He's not sure about playing the song.

You think about contacting him by telepathy. Saying, I'll leave so you can go back to your show. You don't have to pretend I'm not here, I'll just go. Like I wanted to. Like I tried to.

But he plays it.

You've not heard it before, but the rest of the room has, and they sing along with him. You hear a couple of thousand people sing with your ex-boyfriend about him regretting the way he treated you. And you're almost able to talk yourself out of believing it's about you, you can nearly reason with yourself that it's kind of vague. Other than naming the cafe he'd sat in the car park of a hundred times waiting for you to return with a takeaway, it could be about anyone, really.

But he sings out a line and looks straight at you, and his eyes say it's yours. The song. The apology that's not been said yet.

I get the feeling that you'll never need me again.

His voice cracks again as he sings it. And the hurt part of you says it's just a vocal technique Harry's trained to call on at any time. It doesn't speak to anything other than a creative choice on his part. But the vulnerability is hard to ignore, the low hanging, remorseful unease in the room. He fumbles a string of notes on the piano as he sings and you're hit by the overwhelming need to make him stop.

Witnessing whatever he's currently feeling with this song is more uncomfortable than you've ever been, and a switch in you to protect him flicks on. You look around at his assistant, his manager, trying to see if there's even a hint of anyone else feeling like this moment needs an intervention, needs to be stopped.

The song ends. And you're glad.

Harry takes a few moments on stage to get ready with a guitar for the next song. He doesn't come over to your side of the stage for a drink, or to ask the roadies for anything. Instead, he flies straight into the next section of the set. Seemingly recovered from the heavy moment you felt as though you nearly drowned in. He'd never sung about you before.

Nothing remotely personal about your relationship ever left Harry's house.

And you find yourself wishing it would all just go back there.

+

The sixth lie was that he wouldn't break your heart.

Harry did though.

He broke your whole life.

So when he comes off stage at the end of his gig, there's little in you that wants to hang around. As soon as the lights go down and you see Harry's silhouette cross the back of the stage and hop down the stairs to the floor, your gut churns, and you wish you were one of the people in the rest of the venue. The ones now turning and slowly filing out of the building. Going back to their lives peacefully.

Instead, you're ushered behind the curtain again, into the small area that's immediately buzzing with life. You watch Harry as if he's moving in slow motion though. As soon as his boots hit the concrete floor somebody is tugging the suit jacket from his shoulders and swapping it for a grey hand towel that he uses to wipe down his face. His hand pushes his hair up over his head as he smiles at a handful of people, and then his eyes find yours. The smile drops, and he takes a steadying breath in.

"Y/N," he says loudly. Straight. Without expression. It's a statement, but also you sense a question there too. As if you might not turn out to be the person who was standing there. He holds your gaze over and through the people walking around and in front of him. He's handed a bottle of water and offered a second one which he takes, "Y/N," he says again, pulling his head back to beckon you over.

You roll your lips together when you've made it to the vacant space in front of him. Harry passes you the extra water bottle and cracks the lid off the one he keeps for himself. You grip yours with both hands but don't make any move to open it. Standing in front of him didn’t feel like you thought it would. It’s less of a kick I in the gut, and more a reinforcing of things that you’d figured out since being without him.

"Hi," he says hesitantly, briefly looking at someone behind your left shoulder. Then, you feel his eyes back on your face.

You speak to his forehead, not ready to have things inside you unlocked by eye contact, "Hello."

"This way," Harry says after a moment, running the towel down his sweaty face again.

He leads you down a hallway, wiping his face on the towel two more times as he walks. Harry continuously looks over his shoulder at you to make sure you're still following him, as if there was somewhere for you to hide in the concrete hallway. When he gets to his dressing room door, he kicks it open and holds his arm out to let you in first. The room smells like his cologne, a whiff of his final moments before going out on stage and a time portal back to mornings you'd spritz it on yourself before leaving the house, it was your scent then too. There was a small sofa and table, a long mirrored table with his laptop open next to a stack of papers, his screen saver bouncing back and white photos across the locked screen. His overnight bag and its contents were sprawled out over the floor in the corner next to where you can see his phone charging.

"You look good," is the first thing he says to you. Trying to pull your attention probably. Maybe hoping to get on the front foot charming you. You could tell him he looked good as well, particularly in the cream suit they had him in tonight, but you were sure there were no shortage of people who already had.

"Your show was good," you deflect away from the personal, eyes tracing the bottles in the corner of the table, "Great setlist."

"Needs a shakeup, if we're honest. Getting stale," Harry shrugs, and you see it in the mirrored wall. He's still standing by the closed door, watching you walk into the centre of the room and take stock of what's around you. "How have you been?"

"Fine."

Harry coughs uncomfortably, "Thanks for coming, wasn't sure you would."

"I wasn't sure either."

You sense Harry realising this conversation was going to be exactly as difficult as feared it might be, he nods his head and moves over to the sofa but doesn't sit down, "Did you want a seat?"

"I'll sit here," you perch yourself on the chair in front of his laptop, crossing one leg over the other and hitching your elbow at the back so you're facing Harry. Keeping the room between you.

Harry sits on the arm of the small, burgundy sofa, and tosses the towel onto the seat next to him, "Looked like you were a little upset there for a moment."

"My boots are new," you quip, kicking your top foot out towards him, "Blisters."

He sighs again, and you start to feel chastised, but there's a more substantial part of you that stubbornly bunkers on down to playing this role, taking power when you'd never had it with Harry before. He knew it wasn’t blisters that had emotion welling up in you during his set. But just the same it wasn’t his place anymore to be privy to your feelings. And you weren’t going to let him gallantly try to take it. You weren’t old friends who could pick up where you left off. You were broken lovers.

"I just thought we could do with talking," Harry says finally.

"You could have uninvited me, you know, I assumed—Well, it's not like I've been expecting to still attend any of your shows the last six months. This one didn't have to be different."

He almost looks hurt, "You live here."

"How was Italy, Harry?” you turn the conversation around abruptly because you didn't like where it was going, and he was starting to frustrate you. You didn’t need him pointing out you lived in this city alone now since he left. As if you didn’t know.

Where watching him on stage hit you with longing and heartbreak, memories you found yourself irrevocably attached to, being in the same room as him now is only making you see the real Harry. The one who's so good at rearranging the energy in the room to make you feel you need to give more of yourself. The one who's an expert at asking a leading question and relying on the other person to be vulnerable first, lead the charge out the gates.

The man who lied to hide you every day for nearly a year, even when it was hurting you more than protecting you. The hurt from him was worse than the invasion of your privacy would have be. The distrust you felt didn't counteract the security you were still afforded by anonymity. The way you felt you still had something to prove—something to earn from him—and that you just needed to earn the right to your place in Harry's life.

"I've missed you," he said finally, "Just …"

"You've been lonely?" You raise your eyebrows at him.

"What?" Harry's defences click into place, "No, it's not that—obviously yes, I've been lonely—but also I just—I miss you."

You start nodding, and your gaze drifts around the room, "Yeah, I … What exactly do you miss, Harry? Because—I mean, it was kind of shit, don't you think?"

"Shit?" he looks horrified, "What was shit?"

"Harry," you say simply, telling him to cut the bullshit with your expression. "Come on."

"I loved you," he declares loudly, proudly, “We had a great time together. I don't think it was kind of shit at all."

That's when you feel tears come to your eyes. Of course he didn't think it was shit. He still didn't see where the problem was. Couldn't see it. He would go right back to That Fight and keep going the way you had been if he could. Harry would keep living that life with you, he would have kept on going the same way. You'd still be the secret. A fight about a holiday would have resolved itself with compromise and make-up sex, and you would have gone right back to sneaking out of venues and pretending not to know him in crowded rooms.

Your lips turn up in a smile of sorts as your tears beg to fall but don't, "You haven't changed," you state with a small, incredulous laugh, "You've not figured it out. Nothing's changed," you repeat, shaking your head.

Harry's confusion is plain, and if he thought your tears were because you miss him there's something like a flicker of doubt, as if he's reading what's in front of him again and maybe getting a different story.

"You can't have a life with someone who doesn't want anyone to know you're in their life," you state simply.

And that was it, really. That was the nuts and bolts of it.

The secrecy eroded any meaning your relationship with Harry had. The doubt that cast. The burden on you to continually prove yourself, to audition for the role every day only to never graduate from understudy.

You watch Harry's throat constrict tightly as he thinks about the words that come from his mouth, "I loved you," he repeats, "I didn't want anything outside of us to fuck us up."

"You can't control the world that way, Harry," you're observing him carefully, "You definitely can't control people that way. I get why we started that way, but a year in, Harry? A year."

He looks at his feet, and it's the first bit of remorse you've ever seen him show over it.

"I know you loved me," you keep going, "But you can't use that as some bandaid for the lying, for the hurt that was. You can't erase the consequences because you thought you were protecting me or us or yourself. The truth doesn't cancel out the hurt of the lie."

Harry's still starring at his boots, "You could have said something."

You blink once.

"Fuck you," bursts out before you can stop it, and Harry's eyes snap up to yours, you laugh at his nerve and rise to your feet, "Fuck you, Harry. I couldn't have. I felt like I had to earn it. Like maybe I was one gold star away from getting there. And then when I did push it, you ended it."

"That's not—

"—It is," you insist, shaking your head at him, "You put all your insecurities and shortcomings on me and then had the nerve to tell me you loved me as if I was the defective cog in the wheel. As if you saying you loved me put all the onus on me spoiling it."

"I'm a private person—

You put your hand up to silence him, turning on your heel to face Harry as your pacing halts, "Stop. I don't … I don't care," you breathe out simply, "I really don't. Our relationship wasn't The One. It's one we'll both learn from for the ones that are coming. I hope you learn from it," you add quietly, "Because I have."

"Y/N," Harry says your name like it's an idea he's unsure of.

"That song wasn't about me, was it?" You ask because on stage he said it was about regretting hurting someone and there's been no hint of a 'sorry' from Harry since.

His brow creased, "It is. I am. I wanted you to hear me play it tonight. It's for you."

You smile, the idea that you've grown beyond this situation blooming inside you, "You've not said it."

"What?"

"You haven't said you're sorry," your head shakes again, a fresh wave of your new perfume—the one that's just yours—filling your nose, "You've said you missed me. And that I look good, but you've not said you're sorry. You can put an apology into the song on stage, but you can't admit you were wrong to the person you wrote the song about."

His shoulders sink, just the slightest amount, and you know that you've seen enough. You've said enough. He's not going to have an epiphany on this, not in this conversation with you. You've gone as far as you can with this. As far as you're willing to.

"I'm going to go," you take a step forward, "Thanks for the song, your voice sounded really nice on it."

And you walk passed him with just a final wave and the slightest touch to his shoulder. He doesn't move from his seated position, but his neck cranes and he watches you leave. Eyes hunting your back for answers, like the manuscript for what just happened might show up there. But it doesn't, and you slip out the door, the clip from your shoes fading from his hearing quicker than he wanted it to.

Your insides are shaking by the time you make it out onto the street. No part of you wants to turn back and look up at his name in lights again. You're done with seeing the best of everything in him. Harry's one of the shitty boyfriends you'll tell someone about one day in the future, and they'll call him a dickhead with anger dripping from their tongue, promising to never treat you the same way.

And they won't.

You'll both have bumped and bruised your way into each other's lives, and there'll be a satisfying click with them there wasn't with anyone else. You'll have journeyed through all the maybes and not-quites, and you'll land in that forever place with the person who wears the badge of Yours with a fervour nobody before them has.

And Harry … You'll go and be Nothing to Him.

+

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