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twinklelilstarkey · 2 years

Text

Silence - Hangman

Words: 5.4k+ Type: Smut & Fluff Summary: After a fight, Jake invades your morning routine. Warnings: Fem!Reader. Mentions of fighting and it is a petty fight that escalated. Silent treatment. Some childish behaviors from both characters. SMUT {shower sex, piv sex, no protection}. from this request by @barbiegirlbaby

I do NOT give you permission to repost my work. If you’d like to read my stories on other platforms, you can find them on my Wattpad and AO3.

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You love your boyfriend. Love him more than anything on this Earth. And that is why you can say that he can be the most infuriating person you’ve ever met.

You two fight like any other couple. It’s never too many fights but they do happen, just whenever you two disagree on something strongly or when something goes slightly wrong and neither of you wants to admit your fault in the matter. Sometimes the fights can be big but, most of the time, they’re quite small. The two of you are good to go on the next morning, usually.

The argument you had yesterday night... it's debatable. You two argued over something extremely small. The argument became so ridiculous that even Jake started laughing at one point. It was a small thing that escalated to more because the both of you hadn’t had a good day at work and came home tired. If you knew you were to finish a night in that way, you would’ve slept in the car.

It was followed by the silent treatment. Jake started it by walking off and, when he came back to ask you for something, you decided to be petty and leave him in the silence for at least some minutes. When going to sleep, the two of you faced opposite sides and drifted off to the world of dreams eventually.

Jake woke up this morning earlier than you, as he usually does to work out in the morning. He saw you asleep and facing him this time, and he simply stared at you for quite a while. He knows that everything will be sorted by the first hour of either of you being awake, yet, still, he stayed in bed for just a little longer.

When you woke up, ready to go to work for the last day of the week, you can’t exactly say you were in a bad mood. You had the same plans as Jake: you wanted to make up. But something came up. You started with your usual morning routine. Started off by turning on the coffee machine so you have coffee to have with breakfast and to take to work, sort out your clothes, and much more.

But all of your plans of following your morning routine perfectly are ruined when you walk to the bathroom.

You’re just now standing in the doorway, hearing the shower running at full strength, and, obviously, occupied. Sure, you could use the other shower in the guest’s room, but you still need to grab your essentials inside this same shower to do it.

Your plans to make up with Jake disappeared from your mind for these exact seconds. Why is he still in the shower? By this time, he should’ve been more than done with the post-workout shower and already in the living room or something.

You walk inside the bathroom, looking at yourself in the just small fog that is appearing at the corners of the mirror. He probably didn’t start showering that long ago since the room doesn’t even feel hot yet. You let a sigh out loud and begin to undress.

You have to take a shower. You don’t have much time before work, and today also wouldn’t be the first time you’d do it with Jake with you. So, no problem at all.

Your shirt (originally Jake’s) is thrown into the laundry basket and so is your underwear, and, with only two steps, you’re standing by the shower. Jake doesn’t even react when you pull the curtain open. Yet, what he does not expect is to hear you get in behind him and close it back up. Something in his chest flourishes at the idea that maybe, just maybe, you’re going to talk to one another and be okay as always. But your silence continues.

Jake does consciously give you some space to stand in the shower too, even when he’s deep in his own mind, but when your eyes meet, that grin appears on his face. It’s this cocky grin that he does a lot, and you know it’s just to tease you.

“Good morning.” He tells you.

Your silence and look of no readable expression are enough to confirm Jake’s suspicions. You’re still mad.

You stand in front of him as he gives you space under the showerhead, and you turn your back to him, letting the hot water cascade down your body. Your silence continues as Jake stares at you as if you’ve grown 2 more heads, and he still lets his eyes look you up and down. You shut off the water and reach in for the product you need.

Jake hasn’t lost hope, in fact, this exact moment is fueling his mind with ideas. He leans in closer to you as you begin to scrub your arms with the soap, and you pause at the feeling of a pair of warm lips laying a kiss on your shoulder.

Your body likes to behave in ways you don’t want it to when it comes to your boyfriend, but, thankfully, you get back to washing yourself as before. Jake doesn’t stop when you go back to what you were doing. His kisses begin to move up your shoulder to the crook of your neck and eventually your neck. You try to ignore the chills running down your body. His kisses are simple against your skin. They're wet and loud in the silent shower. You can feel him stand mere inches behind you, and you can only swallow in dry and keep on going.

Jake then puts two and two together to understand that you’re trying to ignore him completely, not just his words. You’ve done this before, and it ended in a way he’s very proud to say was 5 minutes later. He can always try and see if he can make it faster.

He nips at the skin of your neck, and you almost flinch, so, he changes to your other side. The kisses are soft, and you’re constantly fighting your own body as your eyes want to close and force you to enjoy it. You can’t let them. Jake takes a step closer and lays a kiss on your head as well. You continue on with the soap, moving on to your chest and stomach, as well as ignoring him as best as you can.

“Still mad at me?” He whispers right into your ear, and he doesn’t get any sort of answer, “Because when I woke up to see you all cuddled up with me, I thought we were okay.”

You don’t let his words get to your head but you do almost gasp (again) when you feel his hands lay over your hips. You focus on keeping your breathing steady and seemingly unaffected and keep working the soap throughout your body. Jake pulls you back and closer to him, and you feel his chest against your back. You still don’t react, but you do put down the soap to just work the product with your hands.

Jake watches as you do it, his hands still by your hips and his head just beside yours. He watches as you spread the soap all throughout your naked body and continue to ignore his presence. One of his hands lifts and starts working the soap on your skin slowly. His hand is bigger than yours and harsher than yours, but it moves slowly and softly. No touch is harsh. His other hand eventually joins in, and you try to be petty to the point of washing over his hands, acting if they’re not there, but he doesn’t let you. He holds your hands as soon as they try to move over his. His arms still hold you, and he pulls you closer to him.

You don’t try to pull your hands away from his, but when he places a kiss on your cheek, you look at him. Jake is surprised to see you finally do it, but the look you're giving him is so unaffected at first, that it almost scares him. That is only until he notices that small little bit of defiance in your glance. After all, you’re playing as much as he is.

He lets go of your hands and, as you don’t move at first, his hands do and they continue to wash you. His palms and fingers spread the soap further, not hesitating into moving to your breasts. You don’t stop him. His skin works against yours as if with no problem. He does know every little inch of your skin as if it’s his, he has touched it, seen it, and tasted it many times before.

It’s when his hand begins to move over closer to your chest that you finally move. You grab the soap back to try to continue to wash the rest of your body, and Jake snatches it from your hand. You, now empty-handed, follow to see how the soap is taken into his hand and disappears behind you. You almost let yourself laugh when you feel the soap against your back. One of his hands lays the soap and the other one spreads it. You let him do it, and then, you stop feeling it.

You wait for only a few more seconds, acting as if you're still washing the already scrubbed skin, and finally turn around to look for your soap. You’re faced with Jake using your soap across his hairy chest, from both of his pecks to his abs, and you try to disconnect the part belonging to your petty brain from your horny brain for a little bit. He does the same thing he did to your back, one hand on the soap, and another one on his skin.

You watch him, trying to act as unbothered as possible, and wait to have your soap back. You look at his chest, forcing yourself to never get the urge to touch him or anything of the sort. When he’s done, even with his arms and shoulders - which you forced yourself not to stare at for too long -, you reach to get the soap back. But, unsurprisingly, Jake doesn’t let you take it.

“Do you want it?” He asks you as you just stare at the soap, “That comes with a price.”

You could not hold yourself for giving him a glare. He smiles at your annoyed expression and pretends to offer you the soap, but when you go to grab it, he pulls it away all over again. He leans closer to you and puts his hand (and the soap) behind his back. You look up at his face and wait for him to speak.

“You gotta ask.” He tells you, “First if you can have it, and, secondly… If I forgive you.”

Your glare was not held back yet again.

“Are you going to do it?” He asks you.

“Just give me the soap.”

He smiles down at you with his perfectly white straight teeth and leans his head closer to yours. He expects you, since you are mad, to pull back or away from him when he does it, but you do not move a muscle. Your noses are almost touching, and he still smiles down at your frowning face.

“Are you still mad over yesterday?” He asks you in a whisper.

The silence in the tiled bathroom almost makes his voice appear louder than it really is, and his words haunt your brain.

You continue to stare at him, from his smile to his eyes. You notice how his smile subsides a little and it’s substituted by his grin instead. His eyes continuously stare back into yours.

“Give me the soap.” You say very slowly while tilting your head a little higher.

His hand appears from behind his back, but you don’t take it just yet. You stare back up to see he hasn’t moved much, and his eyes appear softer now.

“Are you going to let me take it?” You ask, just in case.

“Are you going to stop ignoring me?”

“Are you going to apologize?”

Jake stays silent for just a little bit.

“Are you?” He asks in return.

You lean your head back just a bit to take a better look at his face and see how he just awaits your answer as much as you do his. He brings his face a little closer, and you let him. Your lips are almost touching and, under his breath, you hear him whisper.

“No deal, then.”

You bring your hand up and smack his pec, making the man laugh in your face and stand up straight once more. You turn around to look for an extra bar of soap, and Jake glues his body to yours right away. His arm is laid around your chest, and you try to ignore it as you keep looking.

He starts laying kisses on the side of your head now, then around your ear, your cheek, your temple, and your forehead. He takes his arm from around your chest and brings his hand with the soap back to your body. He washes your skin, moving down to your hips, ass, and thighs.

You let him do it. Why wouldn’t you? If you’re going to be late to work for sure at this rate, might as well go in knowing that you can make your boyfriend your servant every morning. Jake becomes so invested that he even turns you around to keep on going.

You watch him as he does everything with such a concentrated stare. Something inside of you made you forget what you were just doing seconds ago, noticing how soft and tender he’s being after being so terribly annoying.

“You missed a spot.” You say, eyeing your knee.

Jake can’t help but laugh at what you say, and you lift your leg to point at the so-identified ‘unwashed’ spot. Jake does as told. When the soaping is done, you watch as he throws the little bar over to its usual spot and begins to use his hands to work all through your body. He eventually comes back up and pulls you flush against him.

“Any more spots I missed?” He asks you.

That shouldn’t have made you laugh, or smile even, but it did. A small chuckle, one carried with an exhale, escapes your mouth, and Jake swears that he has never been prouder than in that exact moment. His slippery hands continue to hold you against him, and your hands move over to his forearms, planning on pushing him away.

You still don’t talk to him. God, you don’t even open your mouth to do so. Jake stares at you and swears that if he has to hold you in place and wait an hour for some sort of response, he will do it. Oh, and he would do it in a heartbeat.

You notice his need for your answer. Your boyfriend has always been determined to get what he wants, and that is why you open your mouth to speak. Words do not come out, though. Not a thing does. But you do lift your hand from his arm and turn on the water above you, surprisingly startling the pilot glued to you.

His hard work, all of the scrubbing and soaping around is washed with the water cascading the both of you, and you still haven’t said a word to him. So, even under the water, he holds you tighter to him, and you feel it. You look up at him and, when noticing that it’s easier said than done to stare into his eyes, you distract yourself by bringing water to his chest with your hand and letting the water wash away the soap.

It’s out of nowhere but, suddenly, Jake leans down and kisses you. It’s a peck, a simple kiss, just lips on top of lips for a few seconds.

The warm water is now hitting his shoulder and shielding you from the spray, and he begins to part his lips. You shouldn’t have kept on going with him. You should’ve stood your ground as the determined woman that you are. You have responsibilities for this morning, such as your work and the coffee machine in the kitchen. You know that. But Jake will always be hard to say ‘no’ to.

The kiss never becomes wild or desperate but does evolve into making out. One of your hands stays on his pec and the other one comes to hold the back of his head. Kissing made you forget your worries and your childish ways to fix real-life problems, and, deep down, you know you need to have him close to you all over again.

Jake is the one that breaks the kiss, and that leaves the two of you to stare at one another. He lifts a hand off your body and turns off the water, leaving the two of you in awful pure silence once more. His hand comes back to your body as you continue to stare at him, and Jake’s mind continues to try to remind him of his plan.

“I will still need an apology to continue on.” He whispers.

That breaks the bubble you were just in, but you don’t let him notice it.

“So do I.” You tell him too.

Jake squeezes you close to his body, and you swear that your torsos have never been this close, there is not an inch of skin that isn’t touching. He moves and takes a step closer to you, only to force you to take one step back due to the lack of space.

A clear gasp escapes your lips when your back hits the cold wall and, before you even have time to complain or send some sort of threatening glare at your boyfriend, he kisses you yet again. This time, it takes you way less time to kiss back.

The wall begins to warm up with your own temperature, and you feel one of Jake’s hands let go of you. Your fingers cling onto the wet strands of hair at the back of his head and even move further up to grab the longest ones. You only pull him to bring his mouth closer to yours - if that is even possible - and a groan leaves Jake’s lips, vibrating against your own.

He separates his lips from yours and begins to leave down a trail of kisses all the way over to your neck. It’s the kisses on your neck that almost make you melt and become one with the surface behind you. The warmth of his mouth, the softness of his lips, the sensation of his tongue. All of it just to leave a trail of so desperately good kisses on your skin.

Jake’s vacant hand comes back to you, smoothing over your skin in the meantime. He palms at your hips, your ass, your thighs, anything that he can get a hold of. This was his plan to make you speak your sorrows and forgiveness, but he swears that it’s beginning to backfire.

He brings his lips back to yours, and you let out a small moan against his lips. Jake swears that sound alone is sacred, something carved from the world’s best, and it all reaches his ears simply because he is making you feel good while not doing much at all. He would be stupid to not consider himself lucky to have you.

The sounds of making out fill the empty bathroom, they appear louder and that only motivates the two of you to subconsciously deepen the kiss and grip each other more tightly. It doesn’t make sense how it works. It’s some sort of hypnosis that you give one another with just each other’s presence.

Before Jake can get lost in his plan even further, he pulls away from the kiss. He can feel the way your hand grips onto his hair to pull him back to it, but he doesn’t do it, he just stares at you. Your hand slides from the top of his head to the back yet again, and your touch almost makes him forget everything. He seriously needs to concentrate.

“Why did you stop?” You whisper innocently.

He leans in closer to you, acting as if he’s going to kiss you again, but he doesn’t do it.

“I need to hear you say it.”

“Say what?” You whisper back to his mouth. Your mind has gone foggy after what just happened.

“Your apology.”

Your body goes rigid, snapped awake from your dreamland. You two are too close up to have this conversation, you can’t even look at his face right. Lack of patience grants you your next move. Your fingers cling onto his hair, and you push him away from your face by the strands. You look angry, angry at him.

“You really like to ruin things, don’t you?” You ask him, making his smirk reappear.

He doesn’t answer, he just grins proudly at himself.

You pull at his hair, and he inhales sharply at that. Your hold on his hair relaxes once he's distant enough, but he brings his face closer to yours again, unaffected by your actions. He looks at your angry face and pecks your lips just one time. The two of you can’t stay mad even if your life depended on it, so, Jake likes to abuse that theory.

“I’m not saying it until you agree to say it too.” You tell him before receiving another kiss on your lips.

Jake’s hand on your body begins to work the path it was making during your long kiss, and it squeezes and explores your flesh while the two of you stay silent.

“Say it.” He whispers against your lips.

His hand moves downwards and grabs onto your thigh. He grabs it and holds it to his hip. You let him do it, already feeling the flame awake at the very bottom of your stomach.

“Say it.” He repeats. “Say it, and I’ll give you what you want.”

Some sort of warm shiver works through you, and you bring your mouth closer to his. He pulls back, giving you the same space as before. He presses a kiss on the corner of your mouth and brings his mouth to hover back over yours, but he doesn’t kiss you anymore.

“Say it with me, then.” You whisper back at him, trying not to smile at him. “We can say it at the same time, and it all will be done.”

Jake analyzes your face for a while, and nothing suspicious is noticed. You want to laugh at your plan or smile at the very least but you can’t. You need to focus. You work your fingers through his hair and remember how he was the one that was in your shower at this time of the morning. Exactly when he should’ve been out and about by then.

You need to remember the cause.

“On 3?” You ask him with a tiny smile.

Jake, still unaware of your plan, actually agrees to it, and you swore that it made your heart squeeze at it. Poor thing.

“One…” You whisper against his lips before pressing a kiss on his lips, so short yet so loving at the same time, “Two…” You do it again, yet this time Jake almost chases you, “Three…” There’s a beat of silence, “I’m so…”

You don’t finish your words, but Jake does.

“I’m sorry.”

By the time he gets to the last letter, he notices. He didn’t get or act mad at you, he chuckles against your mouth and pulls you in closer to him.

“Oh, you’re in trouble, now.” He says against your mouth, louder than a whisper.

You giggle when he attaches his mouth to yours, and he lets go of your body to grab onto your other thigh. It’s risky to do such a thing in the shower, but you seriously have much else to focus on.

You disconnect from the kiss to jump into his lap and wrap your legs around Jake, propping you up higher on the wall. You laugh your way up and then look down at your boyfriend. He still looks surprised that he was defeated after trying out his plan, but, right as you cradle his face close to you to kiss him, he forgets it.

His hands squeeze and hold you by the back of your thighs, your bodies are wet and glued to one another.

Midway through the kiss, he moves his hips against you, making you let out one of those heavenly sounds all over again. He’s hard against you, he has been for a while now. You deepen the kiss when he lifts one of his hands and begins to move his body to somewhat create a distance between you.

You can feel the tip of his cock between your folds in a space of a second, and you sigh into the kiss. You’re wet and have been ever since he was spreading the soap throughout your body. It’s with ease that he slides right in.

“Fuck.” He grunts when the two of you have to forcefully separate your kiss to breathe.

You move your hands to his shoulders and close your eyes while leaning your head on the wall. Jake is stretching you like he always does, and it feels way too good. Your walls squeeze his cock tightly, and your boyfriend breathes heavily at it.

You bring your lips back to his before your hips completely attach, and the two of you freely moan against each other’s mouths when it happens. Jake stays in place for just a second, giving you time to adjust to him.

Your entire body feels like it’s going to implode with how much you can feel and how much you missed every bit of this. When Jake begins to move his hips against yours, you cling to him and separate from the kiss to gasp for breath. He presses you against the wall and, sensing the low temperature of the tile, you gasp as another sort of shiver runs through you.

Jake begins to really move and his cock begins to easily slide back and forth inside of you. His hands on your thighs grip them forcefully. He watches as he slides in and out of you, his length collecting your slick and moving with such ease inside of you. Your walls grip him each time, and the sight of your naked wet body before him is just another reason for his body to burn under his skin.

The two of you try to kiss but it’s a lost effort. The pleasure is too high. It's some kind of turmoil in your stomach, tightening and twisting at every movement each of you moves. Every time you bring your moths together for a kiss, it's a plan lost. Your minds are going blank and blind to your objectives, completely lost in the pleasure.

You begin to move your hips as well, and Jake can only hold you tighter to him. Even the feeling of your wet torsos sliding on one another seems stimulating. Your boobs squished into his hairy chest, your stomach against his abs, his hands digging into your soft thighs. Everything feels too good.

“Jake” You moan his name right after you moved your own body to meet his thrusts. Your boyfriend groans into your skin, feeling your soaked warm walls squeeze his cock as he watches your face just above his. Your face frowned with pleasure while sweet sounds come out of your mouth time and time again.

“So good, baby. So good.” He whispers into the skin of your chest.

The sound of your skin slapping together is heard in the bathroom from time to time during the deeper thrusts. The bathroom is so silent and so echoey that you can hear everything. When you’re able to kiss, you can hear your lips connecting and disconnecting. You can also hear your breathing against one another’s mouths. You hear the wet noises of his cock going in and out of you. Everything.

Your hands move all throughout the skin that you can reach. You go from Jake’s hair to his neck, shoulders, and chest. Everything feels like him, everything feels exactly how you want it to feel. Your breasts move with each of Jake’s thrusts when you lean back on the wall, and your head falls back onto the tiles each time he brings his mouth to your skin.

The two of you aren’t sure why everything feels so good. It could be from not talking to one another. Going from not receiving any attention or touch to feeling all of it. Jake loves to feel your hands on him, and he loves to move his own around every inch of you. He swears that sometimes he holds you a little tighter because he can’t believe you’re even real, let alone his.

“Don’t stop, Jake, please, don’t sto-” You whisper breathlessly into his mouth, cutting yourself off with a moan.

He’s able to let go of one of your legs as it alone squeezes him closer to you, and he lets that same hand explore you. He holds your waist, your hips, your breasts… Even your face. Your kisses keep on going, sometimes being able to last a little longer than before as you're able to concentrate even when the pleasure keeps on building up.

You moan loudly against his mouth as soon as Jake's vacant hand finds your clit. His fingers move over the small nub time and time again. You move your body just as a mere reaction to his touch. There wouldn’t be a way that your own hands could ever compare to his, and you swear that he knows your body better than you do. He knows where and when to touch, where to kiss, where to squeeze, how to thrust, how to pinch, how to do everything.

Your orgasm approaches much sooner than you expect. The burning never really stops exploring your body and running through you from every artery and then every vein. Your body glues itself to Jake’s, wanting more of him attached to you. You whine into his kiss when you can’t exactly have that, and Jake just wraps his arm around you and squeezes you to him. He will always know what you need.

You detach from the kiss, letting out a moan of what seems more like a sob, and Jake keeps doing everything that you need. Even when his hand isn’t over your clit anymore, everything else is enough. His mouth on your neck, his hand digging on your thigh, and the way his thrusts just get more and more precise to exactly where you need him the most. It only takes him one more thrust, and you come absolutely undone around him.

The orgasm is so powerful, that your ears ring, and your vision goes white. Your body tenses up and relaxes in various ways and moves exactly like it did not too long ago. Your walls squeeze Jake’s cock and wet him to the point of the sounds becoming nastier and more addicting to listen to. And he cums right after you.

The two of you ride your highs together, bringing your lips to one another even if it's just to have that extra bit of skin touching. When done, you two kiss, and you can only lean onto Jake.

When you put your first foot down, Jake is still supporting most of your weight, yet you can still feel your leg shaking. That makes you chuckle, and Jake notices it just like you do, helping you stand when he lets go of your other leg.

You wrap your arms around his neck when both feet are on the ground, and his arms wrap around you securely. You look at one another for a few seconds, trying to be back to a normal heartbeat and breathing rhythm.

“I’m sorry.” You finally decide (and remember) to say it back to him.

Jake’s face washes in confusion.

“For what?”

You smile at him and shake your head as you begin to laugh. It takes the blonde a great bit of time to understand what you could possibly be apologizing for and, by the time he does it, you’re shamelessly giggling at him while leaning your face into his chest.

When he chuckles with you, you look back up at him and bring your hand to the back of his head to pull him into a kiss.

“You’re lucky I love you.” He tells you with a smile.

“I am.” You answer back with a smile of your own.

Before he could say anything, you turn back the water and let it practically hit Jake straight in the face. Your giggles fill the bathroom once more, and, all of a sudden, your laughter is broken with a gasp as Jake is able to reach in and turn the water to cold while you’re right in range.

Your laughter eventually comes back and it is then muffled with a kiss, making you melt onto him.

Hope you liked this!! Feedback is always appreciated <3

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chr0llossexygf · 2 years

Text

SURVIVORS GUILT

PAIRING: eddie munson x hargrove reader

SUMMARY: y/n hargrove hasn’t been the same ever since her brother passed away. her best friend eddie is trying his hardest to help her get over it but it’s not working. they get into an argument only to find out after y/n is cursed by vecna and probably doesn’t have much time left.

WARNING: curse words , abuse , mentions of blood , survivors guilt , neil , pls tell me if i missed anything! creds to the original gif owners i can’t find their @ :( also in this fanfic eddie had nothing to do with chrissy’s death!

severe headaches.nosebleeds.nightmares. it’s all you’ve been having for the past two weeks. nightmares from the incident, the incident that costed your brothers life. the memory of watching the mind flayer attacking him, the mind flayers hands going right through his body. tearing him apart. running to him only to be held back by steve and robin. watching him sacrifice himself for you and everybody else and not doing anything. the second his body had hit the ground you ran to him, he had a single tear running down his cheek. before you even got to open your mouth to say something to him you were getting dragged away by steve. you tried to fight him off but he kept a tight grip on you. “ no no!” you screamed looking at your brothers dead body on the floor surrounded by blood.

that wasn’t the only nightmare thats on repeat. that one is more heartbreaking then scary. sometimes you’d have a nightmare with billy chasing you through a maze, taunting you with the ‘truth’ as he likes to say. ‘ you just stood there y/n.’ he would say running after you. you tripping and falling over vines, ‘ i didn’t mean to!’ you would shout back. ‘ you left me to die y/n’ he shouts. you’d get pulled into a wall with vines trapping you. he’d wrap a hand around your neck squeezing it. a single tear rolling down his cheek as he tightened his grip. ‘you deserve this y/n’ he’d choke.

it was the same two dreams over and over again on repeat. it wouldn’t stop. waking up everyday covered in sweat. your hair sticking to your face. your tank top stuck to your skin. you’d wake up with tears in your eyes. your chest heaving up and down. sometimes you’d wake up with a nosebleed too. blood would be dripping down to your white tank top staining it.

ever since the incident life has been shit basically. but a specific someone made life more bearable. a specific someone made you wanna get up from bed and actually do something and get something done. and that person is your best friend eddie munson. you don’t know he’s with you though. you weren’t exactly close before the whole star court accident, you weren’t close with anyone of the opposite sex to be exact. mostly because everyone feared billy. but now that billy’s gone you start hanging out with more people. not that you wanted to. your step mom susan forces you along with max, your sister.

you and max were extremely close when you first moved to hawkins. you hated how billy treated her and always tried to make him be less of an asshole to her, though it wouldn’t work a lot. so you became close with max. she’d always sleep in your bed whenever neil and susan would argue. or even cry when lucas and her would break up for the 4th time. you were always there for her. but ever since the whole star court accident you two just drifted apart. you both needed time for yourselves. you needed time to grief over billy. she needed time too. instead of spending that time together and recovering together, you two chose to just spend it alone which probably wasn’t the best thing to do.

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

you grab a bunch of tissues wiping your nose, you look in the mirror. the bathroom stalls behind you were taunting and mocking you, or atleast that’s what it felt like. throwing the tissue in the trash you pull the faucet lever. leaning your head down splashing water on your face. blood drips down the sink drain. “ fucking hell..” you mumble splashing more water on your face. looking back up you grab another tissue wiping your nose.

the bathroom door opens. you don’t turn to look though, it doesn’t really matter who it is. you look down at the tissue to see it’s still covered in blood, sighing you throw it in the trash. pulling the faucet lever again. “ hey..you alright?” someone says behind you. you recognise the voice, you also recognise the music blasting from the cheap headphones. “ yeah. yeah i’m fine.” you wipe your nose with the sleeve of your white shirt. “ you sure?” she says holding onto her walkman. you nod biting your lip, “ yeah of course max. see?” you turn around awkwardly smiling. she nods opening the door to one of the stalls.

you walk out of the school bathrooms only to be hit by the bright hallway lights and the sound of people talking and laughing. you grab your walkman from your pocket, you put the headphones on and press the play button. ‘rock you like a hurricane’ starts playing. it’s the song that billy used to blast whenever you two would be driving by the beach back in california. it brought back so many memories. you start walking towards your locker pushing past people earning a bunch of remarks and stares. the b word was thrown around a lot. but who gives two shits about what people think right?

“ the devil has come to america.” eddie says in a deep voice leaning against your locker, you grab your spanish book. “ dungeons and dragons, at first regarded as a harmless game of make-believe, now has both parents and psychologists concerned." he continues hiding his face in a magazine. you giggle closing your locker, “ shit look who’s revved up today.” you mumble taking off your headphones. “ when is he not revved up.” dustin says crossing his hands. " studies have linked violent behavior to the game, saying it promotes satanic worship, ritual sacrifice, sodomy, suicide, and even...murder." he throws the magazine onto the floor.

“ i mean they have to blame someone.” you mumble biting your nails looking at eddie, “ exactly! we’re an easy target. we’re the freaks because we like to play a fantasy game.” eddie crosses his hand in annoyance. the bell rings.

“ i’ll see you guys later.” dustin says turning around. you nod grabbing your backpack from the floor. you turn to eddie, “ i have to go to the guidance counsellor.” you mumble putting your headphones back on. pressing play on your walkman you start walking. “ hey hey l/n wait!” eddie jogs after you, you turn around taking your headphones off. “ you uhh up for the campaign later. my sadistic campaign? “ eddie says shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

blood drips down your nose. “ shit sorry..” you curse wiping the blood with the sleeve of your shirt. eddie looks at you, your eyes swollen. they look so empty and dull. that’s what they’ve looked like for the past few months but this week they seem worse? he already knows the answer. it’s a no. but he can’t help but try. he hates seeing you like this. it’s true that you and eddie didn’t talk when billy was around. but he still watched you from afar. he remembers how bright your smile was. he remembers how your eyes held so much happiness and joy when you talked. he remembers how you used your hands to exaggerate your words. he always thought it was cute. it’s like your a whole different person now. you never smile. you barely ever talk. you always seem to sneak your way out of plans with the club. you barely attend your classes and spend most of the time in school with the guidance counsellor. with all the amount of time you spend there people would think your slowly healing and recovering but your somehow still the same, even worse.

“ i..i don’t know eddie i have to go..” you mumble turning around grabbing onto the straps of your backpack. “ yeah yeah of course.” eddie says nodding, accepting his defeat. you walk towards the guidance counsellor ignoring the glances people give you. you sense some of them are of pity and some of them are of confusion. it’s been 6 months, just get over it. right?

you stop right in-front of the counsellor door. “ fuck..” you curse under your breath as your head starts throbbing. you hold onto the brick wall for support. your temples were buzzing. the back of your head felt like it was getting pounded into with a hammer. make it stop. make it stop. your temples twitch. your eyes squeeze shut. your eyebrows furrowing in pain. everything around you went silent. the sound of buzzing coming from your temples was the only that you could hear. it sounded distant though. you let go of the wall, grabbing onto your head tightly. you bite your lower lip trying to hold back a groan.

“ y/n..y/n..y/n..” it’s billy. it’s billy’s voice. you shake your head. “ y/n..” he says again. you look up opening your eyes, billy is standing right infront of you. or atleast you think it is. it’s blurry. it’s all blurry. but you could see the slight curls of his hair. “ y/n..” he repeats. you shake your head rubbing your eyes. “ y/n are you okay?” their voice changes. you look back up to see ms.kelley standing infront of you, crouching down to your level. “ y/n are you alright?” she asks looking at you. you nod with your eyes close. “ yeah i’m fine just a slight migraine.” you mumble. “ right.” she smiles opening the door for you. you step inside.

“ could you turn the music off, please?” she says pouring tea into a porcelain cup, “ sorry.” you mumble pressing the pause button on your walkman. “ A C- in spanish and a C- in math.” ms.keller says grabbing the handle of the cup along with a cookie. “ yeah.” you mumble looking down at your worn out jeans. “ well that’s not normal for you y/n.” she affirms setting the cup down on the table, along with the cookie. “ if you say so..” you mumble crossing your legs.

“ how’s your dad holding up?” you stiffen at the mention of neil. you intentionally avoid things that remind you of him. you gulp biting your lower lip, “ he’s..” you start biting your nails. “ he’s fine..i mean he’s changed since..” you pause memories of the event start playing in your head. you stare at the tea cup, it’s full about to tip over. “ but he’s fine..” you whisper letting go of your nails. “ how’s max?” she asks looking down at her notepad, “ shouldn’t you know?” you blurt out drying your wet fingers on your jeans. ms.keller sighs writing something down on her notepad, “ is your dad still drinking?” she asks clicking her pen repeatedly.

you gulp closing your eyes. “ like, yeah, a little bit but. well-“ you start biting your nails again. “ ever since the whole..” you take a deep breath in. “ thing i-i don’t blame him. so it’s not easy…” you mumble letting go of your fingers again. “ it must not be easy for you either with billy gone.” you tense at the mention of his name. how is this helping you? how is bringing up unwanted memories supposed to help you. you nod biting your lower lip. “ but you still have max.” she says placing her pen down. you clear your throat, “ yeah max..” you mumble nodding. she closes her notepad placing it on the table, “ are you sleeping better?” she asks grabbing her cup of tea.

the memory of you waking up in cold sweat earlier today plays in your head. you were shaking and breathing heavily. your clothes were sticking to your skin. so was your hair. your eyes swollen. your forehead was hot.

“ yeah fine..” you mumble looking down unable to make eye contact with her. “ no more headaches? no more nightmares?”

‘ you left me to die y/n!’ he shouts walking after you. ‘ billy stop!’ you scream tears rolling down your face. ‘ what kind of sister are you!’ he shouts picking up a car from the road and throwing it to the side. ‘ billy stop please!’ you scream.

“ nope.” you say looking back up. “ y/n? what you’ve been through, what your still going through, it’s a lot for anyone. and it’s okay to not be okay. but i can only help you if your truthful, if you open to me.” she sighs taking a sip of her now cold tea, you rub the back of your neck. “ yeah i..i know. i’m..i’m being open..” you take a deep breath in forcing a smile.

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

“ hey hargrove!” eddie shouts from a distance, you turn around taking your headphones off. he runs to you with a smile on his face. “ so about the campaign. are you still up to see eddie the dungeon master slay his victims?” he asks in a ‘scary deep’ voice. you bite your lower lip looking down, “ actually eddie i don’t know if i can..” you mumble trailing off. “ oh..that sucks.” he says dropping his smile. you nod turning around, “ how long is this gonna go on for?” eddie blurts out. he didn’t mean to say that. but he’s just so mad and upset of you blowing him off for 6 months.

“ what?” you say turning around to look at eddie. “ i mean how much longer are you gonna be like this?” he says narrowing his eyes. “ how much longer am i gonna be like what?” you reply raising an eyebrow. “ like this! your acting like nobody cares about you when we do-i do!” he says walking up to you, “ it’s been 6 months y/n almost 7.” he whispers looking down at his shoes. surprised by his own outburst. “ what’s that supposed to mean.” you say voice loud and stern. “ at some point your gonna have to get over it y/n..” he mumbles. his eyes widen, you scoff. “ wait no i didn’t mean it like that-“ you cut him off. “ right you didn’t mean it. do you still mean the ‘ i care’ part-“

“ y/n i didn’t mean to-“ you cut him off tearing up. “ because if you did fucking care eddie it wouldn’t matter how long it would take me to ‘ get over it’ because if you truly did care for someone you wouldn’t make them feel like a horrible person for grieving!” you shout tears rolling down your cheeks. when did it get so heated? was it his fault or yours? you had to burst eventually, and him trying to ‘comfort’ you and tell you to ‘ get over it’ just sent you over the edge. you kind of feel bad for him. you also feel guilty. you’ve been feeling guilty a lot these past few months. your always blowing everyone off. your cutting conversations short. your escaping your friends. but they can’t blame you for that. that’s just how you are now. you can’t..you can’t control it.

“ i’m trying y/n. i’m trying to be there for you. but how am i supposed to be there for you when you just keep pushing me away it doesn’t make sense!” his face starts to turn red, “ trust me eddie when i say i try my hardest not too. i’m really tryin-“ he cuts you off. “ everyone misses the old you. it’s like, it’s like your a ghost y/n!” he exclaims. people stare at you two as they walk by, some giggling some whispering. you nod biting your lower lip, “ i miss my old self too okay.” you whisper glaring at him. he glared at you, “ y/n wait-“ he reaches out for you. “ just forget it eddie.” you mumble turning back around. “ damn it!” eddie shouts kicking the trash can.

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

the pounding starts again. you sit up in your bed, holding onto your legs tightly. burying your head in between your knees. the left side of your face is completely numb and your right side is throbbing. everything around you is spinning. you want to scream. you want to cry. muscles your right cheek flex. you hold onto your head tightly as if that would make it stop. but it wont. nothing will.

your door slams open, you look up to see neil. “ why isn’t max home yet? ” he harshly says standing straight. susan stands behind him, she looks at you. your sweating. your chest heaving up and down. “ hey neil it’s alright shes probably just at the arcade.” she mumbles unable to make eye contact with you, she knows how far your father is willing to go to get answers out of you but you just look so tired. all though she’s your step mom and you two barely talk she knows something is wrong. call it ‘mothers instinct’ or whatever. when billy was around you’d sometimes talk to her. you’d even sometimes watch movies with her. but ever since the incident with billy your always locked in your room. she knows your going through a lot, so much. too much for your age and adding neil into it all is gonna make things worse.

“ you go to school with her y/n. you were supposed to watch her.” he says taking a step towards you. susan takes a step back, looking down at the floor. “ I know dad..i was..i’m sure she just-“ he cuts you off taking another step towards you. “ sure she just what? “ he says crossing his hands. you slowly stand up from your bed looking down, “ i’m sure she just went over to the wheeler-“ he cuts you off pushing you up against the wall. he “ i told you to watch over your sister.” he says tightening his grip on you. “ instead your cooped up in here crying like some bitch.” he shouts with his mouth wide open, spitting some of his saliva on your face. you close your eyes looking down, “ then you go look for her..” you mumble.

he slaps you across the left side of your face, now it doesn’t feel so numb. at-least you can feel something now. “ what did we talk about?” he whispers grabbing your chin. you shake your head tearing up. he tightens his grip on your chin, “ i said what did we talk about?” he whispers grinding his teeth. “ respect and responsibility..” you whisper taking a deep breath in. “ now, apologise to susan.” he says turning his head around to look at susan. you can’t look up. “ i’m sorry susan.” you whisper tears rolling down your cheeks.

susan watches you. her heart aches. she feels guilty, like this is all her fault. “ it’s okay neil really-“ neil cuts her off. “ no, it’s not okay, nothing about her behaviour is okay. she thinks just because her brother died she can have an attitude and be disrespectful to her family.” the mention of billy makes you bite your lower lip, your hands are shaking. you tear up at the mention of his name. “ but she’s gonna make up for it. she’s gonna go look for her sister. like the good, kind, respecting sister that she is. isn’t that right y/n?” he lets go of your chin. “ yeah.” you mumble taking a deep breath in.

the second the door slams close you fall down to your knees. you grab onto your left cheek gently rubbing it, a single sob escapes your mouth. you feel something running down your nose, you thought it was snot. reaching for a tissue you quickly swipe it across your upper lip, you open your eyes to see the tissue is covered in blood. “ damn it.” you curse standing up. grabbing a bunch more tissues you blow your nose into them. you look up and see yourself in the mirror. your hair is a mess. your eyes are bloodshot. water is collecting at the bottom lid of your eye. your lip begins to tremble. “ no..no!” you cry out grabbing your head. it’s happening again. oh god it’s happening again. you fall down to the floor holding onto your head.

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

“ wait so i don’t understand what’s going on?” nancy says running a hand through her hair, “it turns out chrissy had also been seeing the school counsellor-“ nancy cuts robin off. “ yeah but what does that have to do with vecna?” nancy says crossing her hands tilting her head to the side. “ so max and the other losers broke into the counsellors office to find clues leading to chrissy’s death when max realized she was experiencing the same unusual symptoms as chrissy.” robin babbles looking around the room. “ so we’ve come to the conclusion that max is also cursed by this weird monster thing-“ eddie cuts her off. “ vecna. it’s vecna’s curse.” he corrects making everyone look at, “ does that really matter right now eddie?” lucas says standing up. dustin shrugs. “ given how they’ve had the same symptoms that means..” robin trails off. max clears her throat, “ that i don’t have much time left..” she mumbles looking down.

“ where are the files by the way?” nancy says looking around the messy basement, “ over there.” dustin points at the corner where all the files were scattered on the floor. nancy walks to the files kneeling down grabbing them.

max drops her book. lucas looks at her. “ max.” he stands up. “ hey! hey! stay with me max!” lucas shouts putting his hands on max’s shoulders shaking her. steve rushes to max, along with eddie. “ wake up max! wake up!” steve shouts shaking max. her eyes were rolling to the back of her head. “ what’s happening what’s happening!“ robin shouts panicking running to max. “ it’s vecna’s curse! she’s under some type of spell!” eddie says looking at max who wasn’t moving.

max was falling down a black hole. screaming for help. “ help! somebody help!” she screams looking around only to be met with nothing. she falls down on her back, she immediately sits up looking around. star court mall. she looks around her. it’s dark and cold. there’s white fuzz surrounding her. there are vines scattered all across the floor. “ somebody!” she shouts standing up. silence. pure silence.

‘ do you remember what happened maxine?’ a deep voice says, max turns around trying to see where exactly the voice was coming from. ‘ or have you already forgotten?’ he asks again, the white fuzz disappears. the light blue light turns into an angry shade of red. ‘ when i kill someone.’ max looks around the mall panting. she hears a scream, billy’s scream from that one night. ‘ i never forget’

she looks up. the roof of the mall is gone. there are bats flying around. “ what do you want!” max shouts trying to catch her breathe. ‘ i see you've been looking for me, maxine. too busy looking for me, ignoring everyone and everything around you. too busy looking for and ignoring the calls of help from your sister am i right maxine?’ a vine grabs onto max, slamming her body against the empty car mode inside the mall. the very car steve almost hit billy with. it’s all coming back to her. all the unwanted memories

the mention of your name confuses her. what’s wrong with you? what’s happening to you? she knows you were heavily affected by billy’s death? but how does he know? how does vecna know about you? what does he want with you? what calls of help?

max screams as the vine drags her out the mall. she tries holding onto something but she’s moving too fast. she screams.

she gets thrown to a brick wall, the vines wrap around her legs and arms holding her in place. ‘ let go of me you asshole!’ she screams trying to break free but it’s no use.

‘ i see you for how you truly are maxine.’ vecna speaks again earning a bunch of swear words from max. but those stop when she sees you in-front of her, her eyes widen. “ y/n! y/n! y/n!” she screams trying to break free. you can’t hear her. “ let go of me you asshole! y/n! y/n!” max screams tearing up looking at you. your on the floor holding onto your head. your nose is bleeding.

‘ your too busy with yourself that you failed to see your sister is going through the exact same thing.’

max shakes her head in denial. “w-what?” she mumbles looking at your shaking figure on the floor. “ y/n! y/n! please y/n!” max screams looking at you. she turns to look at her arms still trying to break free. she gets one arm out, then the other. she tears the vines off her feet and runs to you, the second she touches you. you turn to dust. “ no! no y/n! “ max screams looking at the dust particles slowly fade into the air.

she turns around and she’s suddenly back in the mall. right where billy died. she hears you scream for billy, she turns around again to see you screaming and crying covered in bruises and blood. it was the day of the ‘fire’. you were running to billy only to get pulled back by steve and robin. she sees herself behind you. she was frozen. if she was to run to billy could she maybe have saved him?

she shakes her head. her nose starts to bleed. she looks back up to see she’s in a different location. she’s in your room.

“ y/n! hey! y/n! “ max runs to you falling down to her knees. she doesn’t wanna touch you. she’s scared your just gonna turn into dust again. “ y/n come on please!” she screams tears rolling down her face. she grabs your hand, this time you don’t turn to dust. her eyes widen when you look up at her. your eyes are bloodshot. you have a large hand print on your left check. you had blood running down your nose. ‘ save me max..’ you whisper tears rolling down your face.

you turn to dust again. “ no! no! y/n!” max screams standing up. ‘ you have lost maxine.’ vecna says as your room also starts to turn into dust, max turns around watching everything around her disappear. she looks down, she’s stepping on water. ‘ you have lost another sibling maxine.’ he says opening a portal under max, she looks down and starts screaming.

she opens her eyes and looks around, she’s back in the wheelers basement. her vision is blurry, water is collecting on her bottom eyelid. she’s trying her hardest to catch her breath. she falls into luca’s arms. “ it’s okay i’m right here i’m right here..” he cries holding onto her tightly. max sobs grabbing onto his hand. “ y/n..” max whispers looking up at them. “ what? w-what’s wrong with y/n? “ eddie shouts crouching down on the floor. he glares at max waiting for her to speak again. his heart starts racing. the color drains from his face. his stomach starts flipping and turning. nothing can happen to you. “ what’s wrong with y/n max!” he shouts grabbing max’s shaking hand.

max’s lower lip trembles. “ she’s..he’s coming for her..vecna is coming after her..” max cries tightening her grip on luca’s hand. everyone freezes.

nancy drops the file she was holding, the file that read y/n hargrove.

this can’t be happening. no no this can’t be happening. how didn’t he see the signs. this can’t be happening. the last time he talked to you, he was..he was shouting at you. he was judging you. last time he saw you, he made you feel like crap. he still remembers the look on your face, the look that you gave him. that can’t be the last look you give him. it can’t be.

nancy looks up at the clock. “ we have to go.” she says looking at everyone.

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

you stop crying for a moment. everything around you is quiet. you open your eyes. where are you? what’s going on? what’s happening? you were in your room not even a second ago. why is it so dark. why are there vines scattered on the floor and wall. why is everything torn apart. you turn around in panic and see a an old grandfather clock. the bell chimes four times, four times.

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hyperactivewhore · 10 months

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It’s honestly so weird to me how many KC, CK, and KH stans jump through hoops to justify their “Klaus loves x girl more than Hope” arguments. As if their ship isn’t valid unless they can prove Klaus loved their fave over his own child. Do they not feel a bit odd trying to compete with a infant/toddler/teenage girl for Klaus ROMANTIC/SEXUAL affection??? They act as if Hope herself gave af about who Klaus was dating/actively went out of her way to sabotage any of his ships.

Because while the writing for Klope is very (and I mean VERY) iffy, the one thing that remained constant for all 5 seasons was that there’s no one he would choose over Hope. Joseph said it, the writers said it, Klaus said it, and even multiple characters in the show (Cami and Hayley included) said it.

They're the same people who excuse his or any Mikaelson's behavior, so I'm not surprised.

I'll start with saying that there is no one Klaus could ever love more than his daughter, no one: not Caroline, not Cami and certainly not Hayley. If you don't agree you're just delusional and haven't watched the show, because The Originals is constantly throwing in your face how Hope was the only thing and person Klaus couldn't live without.

Granted, they had no time together at all but Klaus adored her. Saying any woman would come before her is stupid, and while Klaus is impulsive and has done things that could have prevented them from being together (him dying for Cami in season 2 aka giving his own life for her, biting Elijah when Hayley was pregnant aka putting his unborn child in danger, and etc) she has always been his first priority.

"My daughter, my heir, you're my heart" "Because you've helped me feel something that I never thought was possible: unconditional love" "She's my heart and soul" "You are all that matters to me" "Because you are my peace. And I regret a lot of things, but I don't regret a single moment I spent with you. I love you so much" Klaus said all those things to Hope and yet people believe she was second in his life??? Like, what.

Hayley and Cami were definitely important persons in his life, but they would never be as important as Hope. Klaus "allowed" every single thing that Hayley did because she was the mother of his child and he couldn't harm her, not only because Hope would hate him but also because his family wouldn't allow it. I mean, even the episode of her wedding is more about Klaus and Hope that is about Hayley herself. He was terrified of anyone other than him being Hope's father, and Elijah noticed.

"Elijah: Just listen to yourself! Fueled by your delusions of persecution! Think, Niklaus-- if you kill Jackson, the wolves will descend into chaos. You're acting out of fear, terrified that Jackson might be a better father to Hope.

Klaus: Do not bring the child into this.

Elijah: Your child arrived here today, her security strengthened by those wolves that would defend her, and you would jeopardize that alliance? Niklaus, you yourself have mentioned that had you been raised by Ansel, you might have been a better man. Now, perhaps, a better man has entered Hope's life, and having seen that, you are shaken to your core."

And then he proceeded to get jealous about Elijah spending time with Cami. Like, all of season two is Klaus not wanting Hayley to marry Jackson because he knew he was a better man than he could ever be and he could be an even better step father to Hope, of course Klaus didn't want that to happen. And he eventually agreed, because his love and need to be with his daughter was bigger than his fear and etc. And it's something Hayley agreed on: she married Jack because she wanted to, but mainly because her kid could be back home.

Or in 2x12, his whole fight with Jackson was basically him whining and being jealous because he got to met Ansel, his biological father aka the man Klaus had always wanted in his life. And his argument/fight with Hayley just proves my point:

"Klaus: Well, allow me to make this simple for you-- under no circumstances will you divulge any family secrets, especially none that would endanger our child!

Hayley: Except it's not that simple, Klaus. You saw what Finn did. He's growing more powerful by the day. Right now he controls over half of the wolves. This marriage could change that.

Klaus: The outcome of your strategy is not worth the risk it imposes on our daughter."

"Hayley: Klaus, think. We could have a whole army of super-wolves who could protect Hope as one of their own.

Klaus: Hope doesn't need a wolf army! I'll protect her myself! And an easier time I'll have of it, too, without you running off sharing secrets with every motley member of your werewolf brethren.

Hayley: Damnit, Klaus! This is our chance! We can bring her home. We have to at least consider this!

Klaus: I have considered it, and I have deemed it absurd. And in this matter, there is no one above my decree, not even you."

It took three seasons for them to be able to even stand each other, not to talk about the fact that Klaus was cosplaying as a single father for months demanding Hayley came to apologize to him, knowing she was in potential danger. And well, he was in fact flirting with Caroline while being aware Hayley was kidnapped and suffering, so let's not lmao.

It's the same thing with Cami: she was well aware she wasn't Klaus's light and yet she asked him in her deathbed to be the light for Hope and stuff, to let go of his anger and he swore to always carry her with him and etc, and it was clear he did but Hope was still his main priority and the one he loved the most. And Camille loved Hope a lot, Klaus and Hayley and actually all the Mikaelson siblings knew her and were aware about the impact she had on Nik.

Klaus and Caroline are something like a wtf, because when it comes to them the writing for both characters just disappears. But well, Klaus did some decent things for her but he never actually changed until Hope was born (he was forced to tho, but that's another conversation) and Caroline was aware of that. She trusted him with her twins and Klaus with his daughter, and they had a mutual respect in The Originals because they had grown in their own personal ways.

Caroline, Cami and Hayley are all very different women who managed to leave a mark on Klaus, but they weren't even in the top of three persons he loved the most. Hope was the first one, Rebekah the second and Elijah or perhaps himself is the third, not his love interests.

People need to stop being mad about the fact that a daughter is the most important person to a father 💀

#klaus mikaelson #hope mikaelson #caroline forbes #camille o'connell #hayley marshall #klamille #klayley #klaroline #klope #the originals #the vampire diaries #tvd #to #elijah mikaelson

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skitskatdacat63 · 3 months

Text

Prince Jenson of Somerset

+ process & lore

Yayyyyy omg finally have drawn portraits of the four main characters!!!! I'll show the process of Jenson's first and then them all four together. Though it's a shame the Seb/Fernando ones are older, I think it's hopefully obvious how much I've improved since November?

Look at him in all his handsome, princely glory 🥹 It's funny, I'm always happy with the second sketch and initial lineart, and then I start coloring it and I absolutely hate it, and it takes a significant amount of time into the painting for me to like it again. And then I reach a certain point and I'm in love with it again. Ugh though I gotta say, I love drawing the curls, it's just so 18th century, but at the same point, man I always will love my original lineart for the hair the best ah. Also yes I absolutely had to give him a big ass hat with feathers, he really is that kinda guy to me. I originally drew a bicorne and then realized that those don't really exist until basically almost a century later oops, so tricorne it is!!

Okay now omg look at them all together 🥹

Haha wow I have improved a lot! Just like the Seb/Fernando ones, Mark and Jense's were meant to be put together. I think there's a lot of inherent characterization in their poses that highlight the difference between them. Mark is looking up, very wistful, looking up to greater people, greater things. Jenson's head is tilted down, almost looking at the viewer, he is very satisfied with his role and revels in it, he's here to slay!

Okay, yes, lore, characterization, sorry that it is so far down on the post!!

Jense would probably be the fan favorite if this AU was an actual book or show or something. He's the guy you randomly find while browsing Wikipedia and you're like, woah this guy is so cool??? Unlike Sebmarknando, he doesn't really have the same level of angst, he's kinda just chilling. He's a bit harder to write a lore post about, because he's basically that character who is always magically around the corner, ready to witness some crazy thing and just breeze past it.

He is less linked to Seb than people like Mark and Fernando, because he's basically just his personal minister of transportation(read: horse fucker), so he avoids a lot of the relationship complications and drama, but that isn't to say he's completely uninvolved. He really likes Seb, and loves to hang around with him and serve him, but he's not as beholden to him. He's who everyone goes to air their grievances or to get away from the others, and he's very happy with this role. He's generally willing to play any side in an argument, but does tend to have a pretty big soft spot for Seb overall(Seb also gives him cuteness aggression, and he wants to bite him. Especially when Seb puffs himself up and acts super bratty when he gets offended at not being seen as a proper ruler.)

He's royalty from other kingdom, but pledged his loyalty to Seb's kingdom when he was quite young and has served him(his father first) ever since. He started off somewhat low in the military, rose to a pretty high rank, was a renowed war hero, and then ended up retiring pretty early to tend to Seb's horses. That's an oversimplification, but yeah. He liked the military life, was very good at it, but decided he had done enough, and wanted to be involved in more direct service, albeit more laid back. As I mentioned in Mark's post, Mark *really* doesn't understand his choice to do this, because if Mark had been in Jense's position, he can't ever imagine being able to let all that go and living the quiet life.

He is the palace whore, everyone has been with him honestly. It'll be like, some man walks into his bedroom, only to see Jenson in bed with his wife, but instead of being angry, he's like "wow you couldn't even wait for me??" He's just very carefree, and happy to just slut around and tend to Seb's horses.

I think he definitely still advises Seb, and would go to battle if truly need be, but generally seems to be living in a different world than the weird psychosexual homoerotic political drama that the others seem to be living in. But as I said, it's not like he doesn't contribute to it! He loves to goad Fernando, and constantly plays devil's advocate in "debates" between Fernando and Seb. He's also obviously the one that keep "accidentally" locking them in rooms and forgetting where the key is.

Sorry if this isn't very explanatory, I hope it gives a general idea to the type of character he is???? As always, let me know if you have any questions! I kinda struggled on what to write here because I'm finishing this at almost 8 am 😭 so I'm not sure if it's great or not. But basically you need to know: horse fucker who is generally breezy and carefree but also can be a bit of a menace to society every once in a while.

#YAYAAAAAAA PRETTY HAPPY WITH THIS ONE!!!!#lmfao tho not 100% sure about the lore notes because i wrote this at like 8 am #hope its understandable 😭 and that you love jense as much I do #hes probably the funniest character in the AU #and like if it wasn't centered on seb/nando he would be the favorite #hes just often there as my kinda reaction character #tho both he and Mark are reaction characters but on opposite sides of the scale and they play off each other #jenson walks into a room where sebnando are psychosexually glaring at each other from across the room #and hes like hmmm how can i make this worse #and mark is the type to walk into the room. see whats going on. and briskly walk away #so jense absolutely loves to tease him w this kinda thing and just make any situation 100x worse(aka funnier)#well funnier for him probably not the other people involved #but its okay bcs they love him. hes jense!!! who wouldn't love him!! hes our favorite guy!! our jense!!!#I just love to imagine he gets all the sides of the gossip and is like hmm yes yes interesting #but doesnt use it for scheming or evil but rather just to tease and be annoying and make everyone blush :)#okay well anyways wow im not really discussing the art itslef sorry!!!@#I think he looks so handsome pretty in this 🥺#hes pretty difficult to draw but i think it came together when i gave him freckles tbh #i hope he gives off carefree but seductive but laidback prince 🙏🙏#f1 #formula 1 #jenson button #catie.art.#boy king au #*not sure about his title officially yet. i mean hes from somerset but yeah idk its okay

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wordsandrobots · 5 hours

Text

Me: hey, how about we pick one idea into which to sink this unfocused need to write something new now Wishing on Space Hardware is completed.

My brain: Have you considered randomly fixating on Iron-Blooded Orphans' director referred to Agnika Kaieru as being 'like a shonen protagonist' and revisiting the concept for a gathering of the original Seven Stars, the one you dismissed because it would be just blatantly making stuff up about why Gjallarhorn turned out the way it did.

My brain: Also here's some random extra smut featuring Shino, Yamagi and Eugene.

Me: . . . you cannot behave for even five seconds, can you?

My brain: 8)

The smut has been added into the pile. I have now completed two E-rated fics, which I may post when I'm done with WoSH.

Beyond that, I am temporarily exorcising the Seven Stars fic idea as the following script in which I try to work out voices for each of them. I will not be working on this any further until after the Urdr Hunt animated feature comes out, because hopefully that will include details about the first Baklazan and I can de-assign him, her or them from Antarctica.

The Death of Agnika Kaieru

INT: Library inside Agnika Kaieru's mansion

Gargin Bauduin (who has an eyepatch): “Hello Kalf.”

Kalf Falk (who walks using cybernetic leg braces): “Oh. It's you two. Sorry. I didn't –”

Gargin: “Quite all right. We understand completely, don't we Angelica?”

Angelica Elion (who is in a wheelchair): “It's natural to be upset after seeing him like that.”

Kalf: “He's just… he was always so… vital. Now he's just lying there and… I keep wondering how that could have happened.”

Gargin: “Age, usually. That'd be the normal cause. Trust Agnika to get the same result three times fast.”

Angelica: “It's good to see you. We weren't sure you would make it, given how busy you've been.”

Kalf: “Yes, well. Someone has to care about the things none of the rest of you can be bothered with.”

Gargin: “Come on, don't be like that. We rely on your work getting the Ariadne back into shape. Don't know what we'd have done without you.”

Kalf: “I suppose you could've always thrown some of your pet cult at the problem.”

Angelica: “The Seven Star Corps is the reason we've been able to make any progress with the rebuilding. Whatever you think of it as a concept, it has been both necessary and successful.”

Gargin: “Not to mention the sacrifice its members have made. I would have thought you'd be the last person to sneer at those who've lost everything and yet still find it in themselves to work for the good of the future.”

Kalf: “I – yes. You're right. I apologise. That was… I'm just…”

Angelica: “Believe me, we all are. We understand.”

Kalf: “So, um, how's Deborah?”

Gargin: “Big as a house and cursing me daily for having the gall to conceive a child with her. Any protest I make over how I couldn't possibly have predicted triplets is being treated as an act of war. How's Marco?”

Kalf: “Fine. Or, well, he was last I had the chance to speak to him. And believe me, I see the irony of a communications expert not finding time to talk to his boyfriend.”

Angelica: “Perhaps once we're done here, you'll be able to go visit him.”

Kalf: “Perhaps.”

There follows a scene in which Arzona Issue arrives and gets into a heated argument with Kalf over Gjallarhorn's future, which leads to Kalf storming out.

Gargin: “That could have gone better.”

Arzona Issue, dropping into an armchair: “He's never forgiven me for what happened in Paris.”

Gargin: “Massacres do tend to cast shadows over a friendship, yes.”

Arzona: “I didn't want things to go that way. I tried to stop it! But in the end –”

Gargin: “I know, Arzona, old man. I know. Deep down, so does Kalf. He's a surly little brat at times but he's stuck with us this far.”

Arzona: “I'm just trying to be logical. Agnika held everything together by force of will. Without him…”

Angelica: Starting a family isn't something people generally do out of logic. Or at least, not out of spoken logic. Not all of us were born with the expectation that we existed to advance our parents' name, you know.”

Arzona: “I am aware, thank you. I… I shouldn't have brought it up. We can't discuss it properly yet anyway. But with so much to do… Agnika's not even left a will, can you believe that? The single most important man on the planet and he's going to die without his affairs in order.”

Gargin: “That seems somewhat out of character.”

Arzona: “I asked him about it once. Early on, when we were pulling all remaining military assets under our command. He'd defined the chain of command down to each individual soldier but as for his personal life – he told me he'd worry about it when the mission was complete.”

Angelica: “Now that's like him.”

Arzona: “He was asking for Valerie earlier. Came round for a while and then … Valerie, Alvin, even Petr. His old friends. I didn't know what to tell him. If he'd forgotten…”

Gargin: “Ah, come now, don't tear yourself up. This is one area where you're allowed not to be perfect, believe me.”

Arzona: “I wonder if it's going to be our fate too, eventually. Fading by degrees and then – oh. F-forgive me, Angelica. That probably sounded…”

Angelica: “It's an extremely sensible concern. None of us understand the long-term effects of the augmentation procedures, much less the toll the War took. I sometimes suspect it's easier for those of us who already lost the use of a limb or two. Saves waiting for the unexpected.”

Gargin: “Besides, Agnika always pushed himself more than the rest of us. My eye, Kalf and Angelica's legs, those were our extremes. Agnika's lay far beyond us.

Arzona: “Perhaps. I still can't shake the idea time is set against our efforts.”

Angelica: “That will always be true.”

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

EXT: Garden

Maki Fareed (wine-glass in hand): “Dear me, dear me. Here's a man reeling from a regrettable encounter with our illustrious leader. Come sit with us, my child, and have a good long scream into the koi pond. It'll make you feel better.”

Kalf Falk: “Uh… sure. Fine. Yes. Arzona is being…”

Maki: “Arzona is being Arzona, as per usual. Did he give you the pitch for building a dynasty, too?”

Kalf: “Does he really expect us to become, what? A new hereditary elite? Did he forget how the War started?”

Maki: “What goes on inside his head is something I have long since ceased trying to fathom. All I know is, I became a pilot precisely to avoid being reduced to a brood mare and the irony tastes bitter. God, I envy Baklazan. Imagine being stuck a million miles from this dreary excuse for the wake. Lucky bastard.”

Embrilla Kujan: “Agnika isn't dead yet.”

Maki: “Neither is a vegetable before it's picked. I fail to see what is gained by splitting hairs.”

Embrilla: “Tactful as ever…”

Maki: “Do shut up, you dreadful old stick-in-the-mud. If Arzona's already planning the funeral and the next five hundred years, I don't see why I need to guard my tongue.”

Kalf: “Him and his damn plans – and of course Gargin and Angelica are going along with it.”

Maki: “But of course. The Greater-Good Gang sticks together.”

Embrilla: “I wonder what Agnika would have thought.”

Maki: “Not to speak ill of the soon to depart but I believe we all know this is coming out of Agnika leaving too much room for Arzona to do the thinking in certain matters. Oh, don't look at me like that. He was an inspiration, obviously, but he did have a regrettable tendency to make everything about himself. It's not sustainable.”

Kalf: “I always thought he had a good grasp on the long-term. Everything he said was always about what we owed humanity's future.”

Embrilla: “Maybe he assumed gathering together people who cared about it the way he did would be enough.”

Maki: “As I said. Now here we are. Speaking of which, who else are we expecting to come pay their respects? Nadira, I assume, and where he goes, Jizin will no doubt follow. Tasmoore?”

Kalf: “Yes, I saw him arriving when I was up at the house.”

Embrilla: “Medoz was on the mission with Baklazan, so she's out.”

Maki: “Pity. She'd liven things up no end. I suppose I'll just have to chip away at Agnika's remarkably well-stocked cellar until my mood has been sufficiently detached from the circumstances. Who did this place belong to before it became a convalescent home, anyway? I cannot believe these vintages were collected by someone even you two could drink under the table.”

Embrilla: “Have you ever tried taking anything seriously, Maki? You might enjoy the novelty.”

Maki: “Oh, I absolutely have. But you'll notice there are no mobile armours left to kill, my dismal darling, and past them, I have found very little to be worth the effort.”

Kalf: “It belonged to some kind of regional governor. They donated it to Agnika in honour of everything he'd done, when the War was finally declared over. I don't think he ever used it before.”

Embrilla: “That tracks.”

Maki: “Doesn't it just? Well, bottoms-up, dear-hearts. Here's to the man who saved the world.”

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

For the sake of clarity, I seem to be leaning towards treating Maki and Embrilla as inseparable friends whose love-language is hurling insults at one another. Maki, Arzona and Gargin are hold-outs from whatever aristocratic organisations existed pre-War to lead to the whole 'honour duel' thing. Kalf and Angelica are somewhat younger and somewhat lower class. My thoughts on Agnika place him as growing up more in a academic/scientific environment, which is why he's friends with a bunch of engineers and mathematicians pre-War (this is expanding from stuff I sketched in Eugene Sevenstark and the Hesperus Treasure).

The Seven Star Corps is a concept I came up with to explain where the surname 'Sevenstark' comes from, because it clearly requires some sort of history.

I'm not sure where this piece would be going if I wrote it in full, which is why I haven't written it already. However, I may be able to use it as set-up for the sequel-sequel fics that I have alluded to previously, for reasons I won't get into yet.

#gundam ibo #gundam iron blooded orphans #g tekketsu #tekketsu no orphans #fanfic #my fic #agnika kaieru #calamity war #gjallarhorn

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rjalker · 3 months

Text

here's the finished almost half of the Flatland "translation" into casual English.

First draft lol

uh lets see if tumblr will let me paste the images in all at once or if it's gonna be difficult...

nope it's not letting me put the images and it got rid of the image descriptions. alrighty then. so just ignore it when it mentions a diagram I'm not adding them all back in manually

This is 15,000+ words. With almost 15,000 to go that still needs done.

Preface to the Second and Revised Edition, 1884.

By the Original Editor

I am writing this preface for my friend from Flatland, since he has been so mentally devastated by his years spent in prison that he can’t write it himself. Rather than copying his words directly, I am paraphrasing on his behalf so you, my readers, will understand what he means.

First of all, he wants to thank all of his readers, both fans and critics, in Spaceland, who’ve enjoyed his book so much that he had to get it reprinted again to meet the demand.

Second of all, also wants to apologize for some errors and misprints in the original edition, though these aren’t actually his fault.

Third of all, he wants to explain a few things that have confused some readers.

He wanted to respond himself, but he’s not the Square he used to be. The problem is not just that he is a prisoner, it’s that no one believes what he has to say, and do nothing but mock him. He’s also an old man now, and his memory is fading. He’s forgotten many of the ideas he learned on his adventure in Spaceland, and the words to describe them.

So he has asked me to reply on his behalf, to explain two points that many confused readers are upset by.

The first thing people complain about is that when a Flatlander sees a Line, that means they have to be seeing something that does have height, not just width and length, otherwise it would be invisible from the side. So why doesn’t he admit that his people already exist in three dimensions?

I understand that people are going to complain about this, since it’s such an obvious problem with the idea that Flatlanders only exist in two dimensions. I gotta say, I really wasn’t sure how to respond when I first read this comment, since I couldn’t think of any counter argument, but fortunately my friend was able to answer it in a way that makes sense to me, so I’ll paraphrase his words here for you:

"I admit," he said, "What this critic said about us having some height is true, but that doesn’t mean we exist in three dimensions the way Spacelanders do. Yes, Flatlanders are tall as well as long and wide, otherwise we’d be invisible, but this isn’t something we can measure or recognize on our own – (Remember, I didn’t even know the word “up” before my adventure in Spaceland) -- and you Spacelanders also have a fourth dimension you don’t have a name for, that I’ll call ‘extra-height’, that you can’t measure or understand on your own either, but that doesn’t mean you’re fourth-dimensional beings anymore than I’m a third dimensional being. Even after my adventure, I still can’t measure height, or “upwards”, not by seeing it, or even trying to imagine it. But I know it’s there, and I have to rely on pure faith.

“Let me try to explain. You can only measure something if it has variation to be measured in the first place. If everyone, and every single thing you see – animals, people, trees, buildings -- is exactly the same height, you can’t measure height, because there’s nothing to compare it to. It’s just the way the world is. Nothing is shorter than anything else, or taller. There’s nothing there to measure. Especially because everything you see is all that you can see. You can’t see above the height of everything, or below it. It’s just what’s there.

“Some Spacelander critics who like to complain too much have suggested we invent a so-called “delicate micrometer” to measure our height, but again, that’s impossible for us to do, because we can’t measure upwards, nor can we compare it to anything else.

“When we see a Line, we see something that is long and bright, and that’s how we know it’s a Line. Brightness and length are needed for us to understand what we are seeing. If there’s no brightness, the Line becomes invisible to us, and may as well not exist.

“This is why, when I try to explin the concept of height, or ‘upwards’ to my Flatland friends, when I try to point out the existance of height in a Line, the only thing they can see is the Brightness. And when I tell them I mean something else, a different dimension, they demand I prove it’s there by measuring it. Which I obviously can’t do, for the reasons I’ve already explained. You can’t measure what has no variation.

“It was just yesterday that the Chief Circle – our High Priest, or maybe in your terms better understood as the ultimate President or King – came to visit me, the seventh of his yearly visits. And just like the last six times he came to visit me, he asked me the same question: ‘Are you sane yet?’.

“And so I tried to explain to him that he was tall as well as wide and long. And you can probably guess his response. ‘You say I am ‘high’, so measure my ‘high-ness’, and then I’ll believe you.’

“And how, exactly, am I supposed to do the impossible? I’ve already explained that we can’t measure height. There was nothing I could do to prove what I said, and we both knew it. He left the room, just as triumphant as the earlier six visits.

“Still confused? Then put yourself in my shoes – imagine a person from the Fourth Dimension decided to visit you, said:

“‘Whenever you open your eyes, you see what appears to be a two dimensional image, and you understand that these are actually many different three-dimensional objects, through shading and light, and because you can reach out and touch them. And you think all you are seeing is Three-Dimensional, but really, you’re also seeing a Fourth Dimension, and it’s not colour, or shadows, or anything like that, but a true, separate Dimension. No, I can’t point it out to you, no, I can’t give you any way of measuring it or seeing it, you just have to trust me.’

“And how would you respond to someone saying this? Wouldn’t you want him thrown into an asylum too?

“Well, that’s what happened to me. I was a Square who tried to convince my countrymen that there was a Third Timension, and I was locked up, just as you Spacelanders would lock up anyone who tried to tell you there was a Fourth Dimension.

“Alas, the family resemblance of ignorance and bigotry runs strong through humanity in all Dimensions! Points, Lines, Squares, Cubes, Extra-Cubes, it doesn’t matter – we are all just as likely to make the same mistakes, believing only what we can see, and refusing to think beyond that.

“As your famous Spaceland playwrite, William Shakespeare once said, 'One touch of Nature makes all worlds akin'."

That’s what he told me in response to this complaint, and it makes sense to me.

As a further note on this point, the Author also wants me to also tell you that in this updated edition of his story, we have added back in some of the extra details of his conversations with the Sphere that we originally left out, because we assumed you, the audience, would find them boring and unnecessary.

So there is his defence against the first point of complaint. I can’t find anything to argue with about it, it seems like a solid defence.

As for the second point of complaint…I wish I could tell you that his response to the criticism was just as well thought out, but I can’t.

It has been objected that he is a woman-hater, and, because many of the people making this complaint are Women themselves who feel hurt by this, I want to reassure you to the best of my ability that this is not the case, at least as far as I can tell you that without lying.

The unfortunate fact is that the Square who is the Author of this book is not used to thinking in terms of morality, let alone the ideas of morality that we in Spaceland have.

If I were to literally transcribe his response to this complaint, I’d be making him look much worse than he really is, because he doesn’t really understand how to articulate his thoughts on this topic, because Flatland (or at least, his country in Flatland) does not have the words to describe it.

((Note from the 2023 editor: I want to emphasize that when the original Editor here says the Author didn’t have the words for morality, he means that very literally, as you’ll see later, when the Author is narrating for himself.))

So, as I am already doing by paraphrasing his words for you, I paraphrase again his response to this allegation of misogyny.

It’s my understanding that since he was imprisoned seven years ago, he has changed many of the personal views he expressed in this book, both in regards to Women, as well as the Isosceles and other Lower Classes, such as Irregulars.

His opinion is now much closer to that of the Sphere who visited him, that Straight Lines are in many ways superior to Circles.

But, because he wrote this book from the perspective of a Historian, he aligned himself (maybe too closely) with the general views held by the Higher Classes of Flatland, and, as I’ve since told him, many among us here in Spaceland.

I don’t think I need to tell you that many of our own Historians, who are mostly Men, have generally not considered the lives of Women or other Oppressed People to be worthy of writing about or considering.

The Author also wishes to deny the idea that he is still a supporter of the Circles and Aristocracy. He has had a long time to think since his imprisonment, and while he doesn’t deny that the Circles are very intelligent – otherwise, he says, they wouldn’t have managed to stay in control for so long – he believes that the facts of Flatland speak for themselves.

Revolution cannot always be suppressed by slaughter, and because the Circles themselves tend to be infertile, he believes that Nature Herself has condemned their actions as a failure in the end.

“And this is where,” He said, “I see the laws of Nature working in all worlds. Man thinks he is doing one thing, and he thinks he knows best, but Nature is wise, and cannot be denied. Her end goal is much different, and better, than what Man plans for.”

For the other complaints, the Author begs the readers not to assume that every detail of daily life in Flatland is a mirror of some other detail in Spaceland.

He hopes that his book, taken as a whole, will be educational as well as amusing to Spacelanders who are willing to suspend their disbelief and not immediately cry, “That can’t happen”, or “No, things only work like this”.

The rest of this book, I leave to him, in his original words, now with the small edition of some clarification in his conversations with the Sphere.

Flatland: A Romance of Many Dimensions

by A Square

Table of Contents:

Part One: This World

01. Of the Nature of Flatland

02. Of the Climate and Houses in Flatland

03. Concerning the Inhabitants of Flatland

04. Concerning the Women

05. Of our Methods of Recognizing one another

06. Of Recognition by Sight

07. Concerning Irregular Figures

08. Of the Ancient Practice of Painting

09. Of the Universal Colour Bill

10. Of the Suppression of the Chromatic Sedition

11. Concerning our Priests

12. Of the Doctrine of our Priests

Part Two: Other Worlds

13. How I had a Vision of Lineland

14. How I vainly tried to explain the nature of Flatland

15. Concerning a Stranger from Spaceland

16. How the Stranger vainly endeavoured to reveal to me in words the mysteries of Spaceland

17. How the Sphere, having in vain tried words, resorted to deeds

18. How I came to Spaceland, and what I saw there

19. How, though the Sphere shewed me other mysteries of Spaceland, I still desired more; and what came of it

20. How the Sphere encouraged me in a Vision

21. How I tried to teach the Theory of Three Dimensions to my Grandson, and with what success

22. How I then tried to diffuse the Theory of Three Dimensions by other means, and of the result

PART I: THIS WORLD

"Be patient, for the world is broad and wide."

Section 01. Of the Nature of Flatland

I don’t call our world Flatland because that’s what we call it, but because I want to make what it’s like clearer to you, my happy readers who are privileged to live in Space.

Imagine a vast sheet of paper on which Straight Lines, Triangles, Squares, Pentagons, Hexagons, and other geometric shapes, rather than being drawn by pencil or pen, are alive, and move freely about, either on, or maybe you’d call it within, the surface of the paper, but unable to rise above or sink below it. Almost like shadows, but hard and solid, with glowing edges.

If you can imagine this, you’ll have a pretty good idea of what my country looks like.

Just a few years ago, I would have said, “my universe” instead of “my country”, but now I know better.

In such a flat land, you Spacelanders will almost immediately assume that it’s impossible for there to be anything you would consider “solid”. And yet, if you look down, you’ll see the Triangles, Squares, and other figures, just like I said.

We on the other hand, see no such thing, because the only things we can see are straight lines.

If this sounds confusing, let me give you an example, which you can follow along with while you read.

Get a penny, or another small coin or similar object, and place it in the middle of one of your tables in Spaceland.

When you stand above it and look down, you see the penny as a circle.

But, if you move back to the edge of the table, and lower yourself partway towards the ground – more like the way we Flatlanders see the world – you’ll see that the penny now looks less like a circle, and more like an oval.

Then, when your eye is level with the edge of the table, when you are closest to what you can get to being “on our level”, you’ll see that the penny, seen from above as a circle, now appears to just be a straight line.

The same thing would happen if you did this with a Triangle, or Square, or any other shape you could cut out of cardboard. As soon as you look at it with your eye on the table, it looks like a straight line.

Take for example an equilateral Triangle—who with us is a Tradesman, or Proffesional Man, of the respectable class.

Figure 1 below represents the Tradesman as you would see him while you were bending over him from above, as a triangle with all three sides of equal length.

Figures 2 and 3 represent the Tradesman as you would see him if you began to move your eye closer to the level of the table.

Figure 4 represents what you would see if your eye were level with the table: nothing but a straight line, which is how we see him in Flatland.

When I visited Spaceland, among other things not work talking about in detail, I was told that your sailors have a similar experience when they’re out on the ocean – distant lands might have bays, cliffs, buildings, and all kind of shapes on them from close by, but until you get close enough, or unless the sun’s bright enough to cast stark shadows, all you can see at a distance is a grey line on the horizon.

That’s like what we see when one of our triangular or other acquaintances comes towards us in Flatland. We have no shadows like you do, and none of the other advantages your vision has in Spaceland. If our friend comes closer to us, he becomes larger, if he goes away, he becomes smaller, but he’s always a straight Line. It doesn’t matter if he’s a Triangle, Square, Pentagon, Hexagon, Circle, or anything else. He always looks like a straight Line, and nothing else.

You’ll of course be wondering how we tell eachother apart if this is all we can see, and I’ll be able to make you understand better once I finish describing the people who live in Flatland.

But for the moment, let me pause this subject, and instead tell you about our houses, and the climate of Flatland.

Section 02. Of the Climate and Houses in Flatland

Like in your world, we also have four points on our compass: North, South, East, and West.

Since we have no sun or other celestial bodies like you do, we can’t tell where North is in the way you do, but we have our own way.

Similar to your birds, we always know where south is, because for us, we are constantly being pulled in that direction. This pull is very small in our most northern countries, so light that even a reasonably healthy Woman can travel for several furlongs (note that 1 furlong is equal to 220 yards) northward without difficulty.

But even at its lightest, we can still feel it, and tell which way is South. As an added bonus, the rain, which always falls on a predictable schedule, always comes from the North.

Because of this, when we are in a town or city, we can tell the direction from the way the houses are built – because the rain comes from the north, the solid roof faces north, so that the water can run of and safely down the sides without getting inside.

When you’re out in the country were there are no houses, you can use the trunks of the trees instead.

As you can see, it’s usually pretty easy for us to get our bearings.

But one problem is that when you are so far north that you can barely feel this pull, if you were walking in a deserted plain with no trees or houses in sight, I’ve sometimes gotten so turned around that I had to stand in place for hours straight, waiting for the rain to come so I’d know which way to go.

If you are ill or old, or a delicate Female, this pull to the South weighs heavier than on the healthy members of the Male Sex, so it’s considered polite that, if you meet a Lady in the street, you will move to the South and give her the North side to walk on. This can be easier said than done in such short notice, if you are in a northern climate where it’s hard to tell which way is south, or if you’re feeling sick yourself.

Unlike your buildings, ours have no windows, because light comes to us everywhere equally, whether you’re inside and out, during the day or night, and where this light comes from, we don’t know.

A long time ago, philosophers and scholars used to ask eachother “What is the origin of light?” and debate the possible answers. Many people have tried to find the answer to this question, and the only result is that our lunatic asylums have precious space taken up by the people who’ve claimed to solve it.

Our Government tried to persuade people to stop trying to solve this problem by forcing those who did to pay heavy taxes, but when it kept being a problem, the Law Makers, not so long ago comparatively, finally made it completely illegal to talk about.

And here I am, the only one in Flatland who knows the truth to where light comes from. But I can’t explain it to my countrymen, and they just laugh at me – me! The only one in this world who understands that Light comes from the Third Dimension! They laugh at me like I’m the maddest of the mad.

But I’ve gotten off track and this is a painful topic, so let’s get back to talking about houses.

Most of our houses are five-sided shapes, or as they are commonly called, pentagons.

Here is an illustration to help you understand:

The two northernmost sides of a pentagon house, which in the illustration are labled “RO” and “OF”, make of the roof, and these normally don’t have any doors. On the eastern side, there is a small door for Women, and across from it on the Western side is a much larger door for Men. The Southern side, or floor, usually doesn’t have any doors.

Square and triangular houses aren’t allowed, because their angles are much sharper than those of a Pentagon, and since the lines of inanimate objects, like houses, are dimmer than the lines of Men and Women, and are harder to see, if someone wasn’t paying attention, they could get seriously hurt if they accidentally ran into the corner of a Square or Triangle shaped house.

As far back as the eleventh century of our era, triangular houses have been illegal to build, with the only exceptions being for military structures like forts, ammunition stores, barracks, or other state buildings that most people aren't allowed to enter without special permission.

At that point in time, you were still allowed to build square houses, but they were subject to special taxes to discourage people from building more of them.

Three hundred years after triangular houses were outlawed, the Law finally decided that if a town’s population was above ten thousand, then the angle of a Pentagon was the smallest house-angle allowed to be built, in the interest of public safety.

The general community has common sense, and has agreed with this new law, so now, even out in the country on farms, almost all houses you can find will be pentagons. Now and then, though, in some very remote and poor farming district, an antiquarian might still find an ancient square house.

Section 03. Concerning the Inhabitants of Flatland

Most adult Flatlanders will reach a length of around eleven of your inches, or twenty-eight centimeters. Twelve inches, or around thirty centimeters, is considered a record breaking maximum.

Our Women are Straight Lines.

Our Expendable Soldiers, and the Lowest Classes of Laborers, are Triangles with two equal sides, each about eleven inches, or twenty-eight centimeters long, with their third side, or base, so short (Usually less than half an inch, or two centimeters), that they form at their vertices an extremely sharp angle, or point.

When these sorts of Triangles have a base of the most degraded type (less than an eighth of an inch, or three millimeters), it’s almost impossible to tell them apart from Straight Lines or Women, so sharp are their needle-like points.

Just like you do in Spaceland, we refer to these kinds of Triangles as Isosceles, which is how I will refer to them from now on.

Our Middle Class consists of Equilateral or Equal-Sided Triangles.

Our Professional Men and Gentlemen are Squares (which is the class I belong to) and Five-Sided Figures, otherwise known as Pentagons, as mentioned above.

Above us are the Nobility, with several classes, starting with Six-Sided Figures, or Hexagons. After Hexagons, the numbers of sides increase until one is given the honorable title of “Polygonal”, or many-sided.

When the number of one’s sides become so high, and the sides themselves each so small, that the figure can’t be told apart from a circle, he becomes part of the Circular, or Priestly order. There is no class higher than that of the Circles.

It is a Law of Nature with us that a male child will have one more side than his father, so that each generation rises in the ranks of nobility, as a rule.

This means that a Square (4 sides) will have Pentagonal sons (5 sides), and his grandsons will be Hexagons (6 sides), and his great-grandsons will be Septagons (7 sides), his great-great-grandsons Octogons (8 sides) and so on and so forth.

But this rule doesn’t always apply to the Tradesmen, the Equillateral Triangles, and it’s even less common in the Isosceles Soldiers and Workers. But to be fair, they can hardly even be described as human beings, since their sides aren’t all of equal length.

Because they’re subhuman, this Law of Nature doesn’t work on them, and most of the time, the son of an Isosceles is still an Isosceles.

But things aren’t entirely hopeless! Your children’s position in society can always get better, even if you’re one of the most degraded of Isosceles, through hard work, dedication, and many successful military campaigns!

Often, when Workers and Soldiers prove themselves to be smarter than their peers, when they are measured again, the measurements will show that their third side, or base, has grown, while their two longer sides have shrunk, producing a larger angle at the vertex!

The Priests then graciously intercede, arranging the marriage of the lucky Isosceles to a suitable Straight Line, and the sons born to these arranged marriages are almost always born with larger angles than their fathers, much closer to being an Equal-Sided Triangle than others who married for love.

Very, very, very rarely, a true, certifiable Equal-Sided Triangle is born to Isosceles parents.

(And a critic might ask, “But why does he need to be certified? When he eventually gives birth to a Square son, isn’t that a certificate from Nature herself, proving that he’s truly Equal-Sided?” And I tell you that no self-respecting Lady would ever consent to marry an uncertified Triangle.

Square sons are sometimes born to slightly Irregular Triangles, which would seem like cause for celebration, but almost every time, the Triangle’s Irregularity is passed down to his grandson, who either fails to attain the rank of Pentagon by being born a Square, or relapses entirely by being born a Triangle.)

If an Equilateral Triangle has any hope of being born to Isosceles parents, there must be a careful plan of arranged marriages for several generations, as well as strict self-control and frugality. Each generation needs to become smarter than their parents, and make sure their children are smarter than they are, for many generations.

When a True Equillateral Triangle is born to Isosceles parents, the birth is celebrated for many furlongs around.

The Sanitary and Social board performs a strict examination of the newborn, and, if he is certified as Regular, he is, with all due seriousness, allowed into the class of Equilaterals.

He is then immediately take away from his proud, sorrowing parents, and adopted by an Equilateral who has no children of his own, who has to promise never to let his adopted child go to the area where he was born, or even look at his biological parents, in case he mimics them without realizing it, and reverts to a degraded Isosceles.

The rare birth of an Equilateral from the masses of serfs is not only welcomed by the serfs themselves, as proof that their hope of their children climbing the social ladder isn’t misplaced, and gives them something to be temporarily happy about in their otherwise miserable lives, like a sudden, surprise holiday, but also by the Aristocracy.

The Higher Classes know that their own social status won’t be changed by these births, because it’s really the exact opposite – these births help maintain their power.

If the acute-angled rabble had been completely, absolutely without hope and ambition, it would have created many leaders to start their rebellious phases, and, with their superior numbers and strength, they would have been too much for even the wisdom of the Circles to handle.

But Nature is even wiser, and has decided that, as the working-classes get smarter, they also get weaker, as their acute angle, which makes them so dangerous and stupid, grows wider, getting closer to the comparatively harmless angle of an Equilateral Triangle.

In the most brutal, acute, and threatening of the Isosceles – creatures almost on the same level of Women with their lack of angle and intelligence – their ability to kill is matched by their inability to plan how to do so efficiently.

And in return, when their descendants have finally become smart enough to plan what would be devastating acts of terrorism, they’re no longer physically capable of carrying them out.

How admirable is this Law of Compensation! It just goes to show how natural, and -- dare I say, divinely inspired? -- the structure of our society is here in Flatland! It is as if Nature herself is helping our great Polygons and Circles to kill rebellion in the cradle!

Art, too, comes to the aid of Law and Order. Our doctors can usually figure out a way – through artificial compression or expansion of the figure – to make the more intelligent leaders of any given Isosceles rebellion become Equilaterals, allowing them to immediately join the privileged higher classes.

Many more of these rebel leaders, though, are too far below the standard for intelligence to be allowed the surgery, but, bewitched by the promises of becoming Regular through similar treatment, they are tricked into entering the State Hospitals, which they will never be allowed to leave. They spend the rest of their lives honorably confined to these hospitals.

Only a few of the more obstinate, foolish, or highly Irregular of the rebel leaders are actually put to death.

And then the wretched rabble of the Isosceles, without plan, without leadership, are either killed without resistance by the small group of Isosceles assassins the Chief Circle pays in case of emergencies such as this, or, more often, thanks to the suspicions and in-fighting stirred up by the Circular party, they begin attacking and killing eachother, until none of them are left alive.

There are a hundred and twenty rebellions recorded in our state records, and a further two hundred and thirty-five minor outbreaks.

All of them have ended as I have described above.

Section 04. Concerning the Women

Now that you understand how dangerous our highly-pointed Isosceles Triangles are, you can understand how much more dangerous our Women are. Because if an Isosceles is a wedge, a Woman is a needle, made up of, you might say, nothing but points, at least at the two ends.

Add to this sharpness a Woman’s ability to make herself practically invisible at will, and you’ll see that the Females of Flatland are not the kind of creatures you want to mess with.

But maybe some of my younger Readers are confused, and thinking, “But how can a Woman in Flatland make herself invisible?” I think the answer is pretty obvious, but it won’t take very long to explain, so even those who aren’t paying full attention will understand.

Place a needle, or another long, thin object, like a pencil, on a table. Then, lowering yourself until your eye is level with the surface of the table, look at your line from the side, and you'll see its whole length. But if you turn it so that you are looking straight at it from the front or back, you see nothing but a small point.

This is what happens with our Women. When her side it towards us, we see her as a straight line. When her front or “head” in you terms, the part, containing her eye or mouth (which for us, is the same organ) is pointed at us, we see a bright point.

But when her back is pointed towards us, we see a dim light, so dim it's almost as dark as an inanimate object. And this is how a Woman, by simply turning her back on you, can become practically invisible.

I need to make it clear to you just how dangerous our Women are. If running into an Equilateral Triangle, whose angle is 60°, will give you a painful gash, then running into an Officer of the military class will give you a serious wound. If a mere accidental bump from the vertex of a Private Soldier, one of the lowest of the Isosceles, is life threatening, then what can you expect from running into a Woman, except complete and total annihilation?

And when a Woman is almost invisible like this, imagine how difficult it is, even for the most caution, to avoid running into them!

Many laws have been put into place in the different countries of Flatland in order to lessen this danger, and in the Southern and less temperate climates where the force of the Southern pull, or gravity, is greater, where human beings are more likely to have sudden and involuntary movements from constantly fighting the gravity, the laws regarding Women are, naturally, much stricter and harsher.

But a general view of the regulations for Women can be understood from the following summary:

1. Every house will have one entrance on the Eastern side, to be used only by Females, and all Females must enter “in a becoming and respectful manner”. Females must never use the Men’s or Western door. [Note: When I was in Spaceland, I was told (in a conversation not transcribed in this book, to save my reader’s valuable time) that some of your Priestly institutions have a similar policy, with a separate entrance for the working poor (`Spectator', Sept. 1884, p. 1255) so that they can also "approach in a becoming and respectful manner."]

2. No Female shall walk in any public place without contually keeping up her Peace-cry, under penalty of death.

3. Any Female diagnosed with St. Vitus’s Dance ((A neurological disorder causing sudden, involuntary movements after an illness, usually affecting children)), seizures, a chronic cold accompanied by violent sneezing, or any other disease that causes involuntary movements, shall be destroyed immediately upon diagnosis.

In some countries, there is another Law that forbids Females, under penalty of death, from walking or standing in public spaces without constantly moving their backs from side to side, so that people behind them can see them better.

Other countries will sometimes demand that any Woman in public should be followed by one of her male family members or servants, and still others ban Women from public entirely, confining them to their homes except during religious festivals.

But our wisest of Circles and Politicians have found that having so many restrictions on Women not only leads to the weakening of our society overall, but also to an extremely high number of domestic murders, to the point where the number of Men killed as a result far outnumbers the accidents that the Law was attempting to avoid in the first place.

Because when the temper of a Woman is stoked by being confined to her home, or having to deal with harsh, inconvenient restrictions when in public, they are likely to unleash their fury upon their husbands and children or siblings, and several times, in countries with highly restrictive laws, the entire Male population of a town has sometimes been wiped out in just a few hours as the Females simultaneously and violently succumb to their wrath.

And this is why the first three laws I’ve outlined here are good enough on their own for the better-run countries such as the one I belong to, and can be used as a rough summary of the Female Code.

After all, it’s not the Law itself that protects us so much, as the instinct for self-preservation in the Women themselves. It I true that they can inflict instantant death by simply moving backwards, but it is also true that unless they can immediately remove their stabbing-end, their own fragile bodies can easily be shattered by the death throes of their victim, and be killed along with them.

The power of Fashion is also on our side. I said above that in some less civilized countries, Females are not allowed in public without swaying her back from side to side, but in my country, our high-ranking and ambitious ladies have been doing this of their own free will since as far back as anyone can remember. The idea that a law would have to be passed to guarantee this behavior, (which should be instinctive in ladies of high breeding), is extremely embarrassing.

The rhythmical and, if I may so say, well-modulated undulation of the back in our ladies married to Circles is envied by the wives of Equilaterals, who, trying their best, can only create a regular twitch like the ticking of a clock.

But even that simple ticking is admired by the wife of the ambitious Isosceles, who wishes to raise her family’s status, so that she becomes the first in all her family line to practice the art.

So you see, in every family worth considering, “back motion” is as old and ingrained as time itself, and the lucky Male members of these families enjoy their immunity from invisible attacks.

But don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying our Women don’t care about their families. But, unfortunately, their emotions in the moment overpower their other feelings, driving out every other thought until their anger passes. This, of course, is the result of their unfortunate configuration as Straight Lines.

They have no angle to speak of, and thus are mentally and physically inferior to even the very lowest of the Isosceles. They are, as a result of this lack of angle, completely devoid of brain-power, and are completely incapable of self-reflection, judgment, or planning, and barely any memory at all.

This is why, when they are in a state of fury, they have no idea what they’re doing, or who they’re doing it to. They will not recognize their husband or even their children.

I’ve actually heard of a legal case where a Woman murdered everyone in her whole household, but then half an hour later, when she’d calmed down and the fragmented bodies had been swept away by Police, asked where her husband and children were. She didn’t remember a thing.

So it should be obvious that you shouldn’t annoy a Woman if she’s able to turn around and stab you. But when you have them in their apartments – which are built so narrowly specifically to prevent them from turning and attacking – you can say or do whatever you want, because they’re incapable of reacting in any way except verbal, and in a few minutes, they won’t even remember whatever it is you’ve said or done that they’re threatening to kill you for, nor will they remember the hasty promises you’ve made (with no intention of keeping) to get them to calm down.

In general, we get along pretty well with our Women, except in the lower classes of the Isosceles military. These Isosceles, lacking in angle, also lack in tact and discretion, and many times this has caused indescribable disasters.

These Isosceles rely too much on their sharp points as weapons instead of the shield of common sense and knowing how to react to different problems, so these reckless creatures often fail to properly follow the safety code for building Women’s apartments, or irritate their wives by insulting them when out in public, and then to make things worse, refuse to immediately apologize.

And, being simple creatures who are too fond of the literal truth, these Isosceles refuse to make the kinds of lavish, impossible promises that Circles readily deploy to pacify the would-be murderess.

The result of this lack of careful handing is massacre, but you shouldn’t see it as a tragedy – on the contrary, these outbreaks eliminate the more brutal and troublesome of the Isosceles, and many of our Circles view the destructiveness of the Thinner Sex as one of many favors Providence has given us for naturally suppressing the population of Isosceles, and helping to nip Revolution in the bud.

But even within the families that most strictly follow the Female Code, even with our closest-to-true circles Circular families, I have to admit, our idea of “domestic bliss” isn’t as full of affection and comfort as it is with you in Spaceland.

There is peace, as much as the absence of slaughter can be called peace, but it is impossible for there to be shared interests or hobbies between Man and Wife, with the Man’s safety paid for in the loss of true comfort.

Since time immemorial, the women of our Circular and Polygonal houses have had the habit – which has now become a kind of instinct – of always keeping their eyes and mouths pointed towards their husband and his male friends.

If a lady in a high-ranking family turned her back on her husband, it would be seen as an omen of disaster involving a grevious loss of STATUS.

But, as I will soon explain, this custom, while insuring safety, is not without its problems.

In the house of the Isosceles Working Man, or the Equilateral Tradesman, where the wife is allowed to turn her back on her husband while performing her household duties, there are moments of peace, where the wife is neither seen nor heard, except the humming sound of her ever-present Peace-cry.

But in the homes of the upper classes, these moments of peace are few and far between. There, the loud and bright face are always directed at the Master of the household, and not even the never-changing light is more persistent than the never-ending feminine chatter.

The diplomatic skill required to avoid a Woman’s sting has no power against a Woman’s mouth, and, since the wife has absolutely nothing meaningful to say, and no intelligence or conscience there to prevent her from speaking anyway, more than a few cynics have been quoted with saying they prefer the death-dealing but mercifully silent sting of a woman’s back side to the obnoxious volume of her mouth.

To my readers in Spaceland, the condition of our Women may seem truly miserable, and indeed it is, without question. A Male of even the lowest type of Isosceles can look forward to some improvement of his angle through hard work and dedication, and eventually the increased rank of his entire degrades caste, but no Woman can ever hope for such things for her own sex.

“Once a Woman, always a Woman” is a Decree of Nature; and the very Laws of Evolution seem to stack misfortunes against her.

But at least we can admire the wise arrangement Evolution and Nature have given us, so that even though the Women have to be miserable for our great society to exist, at least they’ll soon forget it.

Section 05. Of our Methods of Recognizing one another

You, who are blessed with the ability to perceive shading as well as light, whose people are gifted with not one, but two eyes, who are understand perspective, who get to enjoy all shades of colour without thinking about it, you who can actually SEE an angle, and see the complete circumference of a circle from your happy, elevated position in the Third Dimension without a single speck of effort—How can I make you understand how difficult it is for us in Flatland to recognize eachother?

Remember what I already explained to you earlier. All thing in Flatland, alive or inanimate, no matter what their shape, appear to be, TO OUR VIEW, the same, or nearly the same, as a Straight Line. So then how can one shape be told from another, when all shapes look the same?

The answer is threefold.

The first way of recognizing different shapes is the sense of hearing, which with us is much more highly developed than with you in Spaceland, and not only lets us recognize the voices of our friends, but even to tell which class someone belongs, at least as far as the three lower classes – the Equilateral, Square, and Pentagon – go. As for the Isosceles, well, there’s no telling.

As we rise in social standing it becomes harder and harder to tell people’s classes apart by their voice, partly because the higher classes all speak in similar ways, and partly because using someone accent to judge their class is a poor man’s skill that is looked down upon by the Aristocracy.

And if there’s any danger of offending someone more important than us, we can’t trust this skill, because among the lowest classes, the vocal organs are more strongly developed, so that an Isosceles can easily fake the accent of a Polygon, and, with some training, even a Circle himself. So a second method is more commonly used.

Feeling is, among our Women and lower classes – I’ll explain shortly about our higher classes – the main test of recognition at all times between strangers, and also when the question is not to the individual’s identity, but his class.

As a result, a “formal introduction” in Spaceland’s higher classes is the equivalent for “feeling” with us.

“Permit me to ask you to feel and be felt by my friend Mr. So-and-so”, is still the go-to phrase for our more old-fashioned gentlemen who live in the countryside far from towns.

But in the towns, and among businessmen, the words “be felt by” are cut out, and the sentence is shortened to, “Let me ask you to feel Mr. So-and-so”, and it is just assumed that the “feeling” will go both ways.

Among our younger, more modern, and dashing young gentlemen, who refuse to expend extra effort than necessary, and don’t care at all about protecting the sanctity of their language, the phrase is shortened even more, using the words “to feel” as a shortcut for “to recommend for the purpose of feeling and being felt”.

At the time this book was written, this “slang” of the now allows such disgraceful barbarism as the sentence, “Mr. Smith, permit me to feel Mr. Jones”, to exist.

But please, my Readers, don’t assume that “feeling” for us is as awkward and tedious as it would for you, or that we have to go all the way around the person, feeling all his sides, before we can figure out what class he belongs to.

Years of practice and training, started in school and continued in daily life, allows us to immediately tell apart the angles of an Equal-sided Triangle, Square, or Pentagon at a single touch. And I don’t think I need to explain how the brainless vertex of an acute-angled Isosceles is obvious even to the dullest touch.

That is why, as a general rule, we don’t need to feel more than a single angle of an individual, and this by itself can tell us the class this person belongs to, unless he belongs to one of the higher sections of the nobility, where things become much more difficult.

Even a Master of Arts from our University of Wentbridge has gotten a ten-sided and twelve-sided Polygon confused, and no Doctor of Science, in or out of that university who would pretend to know, without hesitation, the difference between a twenty-sided and a twenty-four sided member of the Aristocracy.

The Readers who have been paying attention should remember from what I said earlier about our Women’s Code should quickly understand that the process of feeling requires serious caution and self-control, otherwise the angles of the one being felt might seriously injure the feeler.

It is essential for the safety of the Feeler that the Felt should stand completely still. A twitch, fidgeting, and yes, even something as simple as a violent sneeze, can prove fatal, and have ended, before they could begin, many promising friendships.

This is especially true with the lower classes of Isosceles. Their eyes are positioned so far from their sharp points that they can barely see what’s happening on their most dangerous end. These Triangles are also literally insensitive, and can barely feel the much more refined touch of a highly organized Polygon. So no one can really be surprised if a sudden toss of the head deprives the State of a valuable life!

I’ve heard that my honorable Grandfather – (one of the least Irregular of his unhappy Isosceles class, who obtained, shortly before his death, four out of seven votes from the Sanitary and Social Board to let him be certified a an Equal-Sided Triangle) –often bemoaned, with a tear in his venerable eye, an accident of the kind I’ve just described to you, which happened to his great-great-great-Grandfather, a respectable Working Man with an angle, or brain, of 59 degrees 30 minutes.

According to this story, my unfortunate great-great-great-great-great grandfather, who was suffering from rheumatism, and while being felt by a Polygon, with one sudden, unintentional movement, accidentally stabbed the Great Man in a horrific cut straight through the diagonal.

Half because of his long suffering in prison, and half because of the moral shock that swept through all of my ancestor’s relatives, our family’s angle was thrown back by a degree and a half, cutting off their ascension to higher standing.

This resulted in the next generation of the family brain being measured at only 58 degrees, and it wasn’t until five whole generations passed that the lost ground was recovered, and the full 60 degrees obtained, finally lifting us out of the class of Isosceles. And to think this whole series of calamities all came from one little accident in the process of Feeling.

And I think at this point I can hear some of my readers exclaiming, “How can you Flatlanders know anything about angles, degrees, or minutes? We can see an angle from Spaceland, because we can see two straight lines connecting to form an angle, but you Flatlanders can only ever see one line, or just a few pieces of different lines in a bigger line – how can you hope to measure any angle, let alone measure angles of different sizes?”

My answer is that while we can’t see angles, we can infer them, and do so with great accuracy. Our sense of touch, trained through constant use, lets us tell angles apart far more accurately than you can with the naked eye. We have many natural advantages that shouldn’t be forgotten.

It is a Law of Nature that the brain of the Isosceles class begins at half a degree of angle, or thirty minutes, and if it increases, it will do so by half a degree for every generation, until the goal of 60 degrees is reached, when the newest, freeman generation leaves behind the condition of serfdom, and joins the class of the Regulars.

This means that Nature herself gives us the tools we need, in the form of an ascending scale, or alphabet, of angles for every half a degree, all the way to 60 degrees, giving us all the examples we need, specimens of which are placed in every Elementary School throughout the land.

Due to occasional slip-backs like the kind my family suffered, as well as frequent moral and intellectual stagnation, not to mention the extraordinary ability of the Criminal and Vagabond Classes to breed, there is always a vast pool of individuals with an angle of half a degree or a single degree, and a fair abundance of Specimens up to 10 degrees. These are absolutely destitute of civic rights; and many of them are too stupid to even be useful in warfare, so they are given from the State and to the schools, to be used for education.

Shackled so tightly they cannot move in any way, to remove all possibility of danger, they are placed in our kindergarten classrooms, and and used by the Board of Education to teach the young Equilateral Triangles that have been adopted away from their biological parents the proper tact and intelligence that the wretched Isosceles who produced them are completely lacking in.

In some States, these chained Specimens are sometimes given food and water, and as a result, are allowed to suffer living for several years; but in better-run areas, we know that the educational interests for the children are better served with saving the food, and simply getting new Specimens every month – which is about how long a member of the Criminal Class can last without food.

The cheaper schools which choose to prolong the life of the Specimen loses in the long term by the cost of the food, and partly in the lessened accuracy of the Specimen’s angles, which, after a few weeks of constant “feeling”, become impaired.

And let’s not forget, as we think of the advantages of the more expensive system of constantly replacing Specimens, that it helps, however slightly, to lower the numbers of the Isosceles population, a goal that every statesman in Flatland constantly keeps in sight.

This is why I think (though I do understand that many of our popularly elected School Boards prefer the cheap system) that the more expensive system is, in this case, the best use of the money.

But I shouldn’t let the politics of School Boards distract me from my real subject. I’ve said enough, I hope, to show that Recognition by Feeling isn’t as tedious or confusing process as you might assume, and it is also obviously more trustworthy than Recognition by Hearing.

But many object that this method can be dangerous. For this reason, many in the Middle and Lower classes, and almost all of those in the Polygonal or Circular orders, prefer a third method of Recognition, which I will explain to you in the next section below.

Section 06. Of Recognition by Sight

I am about to seem very inconsistent. In the previous sections I’ve told you that all things in Flatland appear to us to be nothing but a straight line; and it was implied that this makes it impossible to tell people apart by looking at them.

But now I will be explaining to my Spaceland critics how we Flatlanders do recognize one another by our sense of sight.

If you, the Reader, will take the time to revisit the paragraph where you think I claimed that Recognition by Feeling is universal, you will that I specified “among the lower classes”. Only among the higher classes in our civilized societies is Sight Recognition practiced.

That this skill can exist anywhere, for any class, is the result of the Fog that covers the land for most of the year in all parts of Flatland except in deserts. What Spacelanders see as a depressing, evil smog that blots out the landscape and makes you cold and sick, is celebrated by us as a blessing second only to air itself, and is recognized as the Nurse of art and the Parent of science.

But I’ll try to stop singing praise for this beneficent Element so that I can explain to you what I mean.

If Fog didn’t exist, all lines would appear just as sharp and clear as every other line, and this is actually the case in those unhappy desert countries where the atmosphere is perfectly dry and transparent.

But wherever Fog can be found, objects that are at a distance of, for example, three feet, are noticeably dimmer than those at a distance of two feet and eleven inches. As a result, by careful, constant observation, we are able to understand, with very high accuracy, the shape of the object we are looking at.

A specific example will allow me to make my meaning clearer to you than many more paragraphs of explanation.

Imagine that I see two strangers approaching me, whose rank I want to learn. Let’s say that they are a Merchant, and a Physician, or in other words, an Equilateral Triangle, and a Pentagon – so how do I tell them apart?

Here is a diagram to illustrate:

It will immediately be obvious to every child in Spaceland who knows anything about Geometry that if I am facing these two men so that I am looking directly at their front point (A), my view, obviously, lies perfectly between the two points on either side of that (CA, AB), so that both points appear to be the same size.

Now when I look at the Equilateral Merchant, what will I see? I will see a straight line (in reality made up of three points), with the center of the line (which is really point A) being very bright (Because point A is closest to me).

The two seeming-ends of the line, though, will be much darker, with a very sudden shift from the white of the center to almost black. This is because the points (B and c) that make up the ends of this seeming-line are much further away from me, with more Fog covering them.

On the other hand, the line that represents the Pentagon Physician with shift from white to a lighter grey rather than almost black, because the points that make up the ends of the line are not as far away from me than they were on the Triangle.

[Note from the 2023 editor: To simplify further: The closer the point is to you, the brighter it is. The further away, the darker it is. Remember this, and you’ll be fine.]

The Reader will probably understand from this example how -- after a very long course of training aided by constant practical experience – allow those of us who are well-educated to accurately tell strangers apart when it comes to the Equilateral and Isosceles classes by our sense of sight.

If my Spaceland friends have grasped this idea enough that you’re not immediately rejecting it as impossible, I’ll consider my job done in this matter. If I tried to give you any more details, I’d only confuse you hopelessly.

But for the sake of the young and inexperienced, who might assume, from the two examples I gave above of how I would recognize my Father and one of my Sons, that Recognition by Sight is easy to learn, and I feel the need to point out that, in reality, the problems posed by Sight Recognition are much more subtle and complex than my simple diagram can convey to those in Spaceland.

For example, if my Father, the Equilateral Triangle pictured above, were to approach me with one of his sides instead of his angle, then, until I’ve asked him to rotate, or until I move around him to another angle, I cannot be certain whether I am looking at my Father, the Equilateral Triangle, or a Straight Line, in other words, a Woman.

Then, when I am with one of my two Hexagonal Grandsons, looking at one of his sides, it will be clear, I hope, from the diagram below, that I will see a straight line with a large center of brightness (made up by the points A and B), with two small darker sections above and below, which quickly fade away into dimness.

But I need to resist the temptation to keep explaining about these topics.

Even the best mathematician in Spaceland should believe me when I tell you that when you are at a ball or a convention, moving around the room and other people, trying to recognize and keep track of the many high-ranking Polygons around you is no easy task.

This is why we value our expert mathematicians – Professors of both Static and Kinetic Geometry, from the University of Wentbridge -- so highly. They are the ones who teach the elites of the states the complex art of Sigh Recognition.

It is only a few of the most promising heirs of our most noble and wealthy houses who can afford the time and money necessary for mastering this noble and valuable Art.

If I, a Mathematician of fair skill, and the Grandfather of two very promising and perfectly regular Hexagons, found myself in the middle of a crowd of rotating Polygons of the higher classes, even I sometimes find myself unsure!

And of course, to a common Tradesman Equilateral or Serf Isosceles, such a sight must be as bewildering and meaningless as it would be to you, my dear Reader, if you were suddenly transported to our country.

In a crowd like this, the only thing you would see, wherever you look, is nothing but a Line that seems to be straight, but with different parts in constantly changing light or darkness.

Even if you had graduated from your third year in the University’s classes for Pentagons and Hexagons, and had memorized the theory of the subject, you would quickly find yourself realizing that it will take many years of practical experience before you could confidently move through a high-society crowd without bumping into your betters.

It is impolite in the extreme to ask to “feel” such superior nobles, and it is without a doubt, due to their superior culture and breeding, that these fashionable crowds know everything of your shape and movements, while you, still inexperienced, know next to nothing about theirs.

In other words, the only way to belong truly in Polygonal society is to be a Polygon yourself. It’s a painful lesson I have had to learn the hard way.

It is astonishing how much the Art (I like call it an instinct) of Sight Recognition is honed simply by constant practice, while avoiding the custom of “Feeling”.

[Note from the 2023 editor: I apologize in advance for the next sentence you are going to read after this interruption is done.

The author here, as you may be able to guess soon enough, thinks he knows more than he does.

I will state now, for the record, that his idea of how Deaf and mute people learn to speak is completely and blatantly false, a myth long since thrown away, but I will still transcribe his words here for the sake of posterity, and to better help you understand his mindset.

Let me make it absolutely clear that denying Deaf and mute children access to language of sign language or Augmentive and Alternative Communication devices (AAC), and forcing them to lipread or spend years learning to speak perfectly aloud, does not help them learn to communicate better, the only thing it accomplishes is isolating and punishing them and delaying their ability to talk to you.

Let them learn sign language (and learn it alongside them!). Get them an AAC device. Stop trying to fit a square through a circular hole! It is a myth that sign language stops Deaf and mute people from speaking – just because you didn’t bother to learn doesn’t mean they’re not talking!

Interruption over now. You may continue.]

Just as with you, the deaf and mute, if allowed to gesticulate and to use sign language, will never acquire the more difficult, but far more valuable art of speech and lip-reading, so it is with us as regards "Seeing" and "Feeling".

None who in early life resort to "Feeling" will ever learn "Seeing" in perfection.

This is why “Feeling” is either discouraged or forbidden completely among the families of our Higher Classes.

The children of High-Class Polygons are not sent to the common Public Elementary schools where Feeling is taught. Instead, they are sent to private schools with very strict entrance requirements. At these schools, to “feel” is seen as a serious problem, and is punished with Suspension for the first offence, and complete Expulsion for the second.

But the lower classes think of Sight Recognition as an unattainable luxury. The common Equilateral Tradesman can’t afford to send even just one of his sons away to spend an entire third of his life studying abstract ideas.

So the children of the poor are allowed “feel” as soon as they begin moving, and in doing so become practiced at moving and interacting with others very quickly, which makes them seem, to the untrained eye, much better developed than the comparatively listless, unmoving attitude of young nobles Polygons of the same age.

But don’t let this disparity fool you – once the young Polygons have finally completed their course at the University, and are ready to go out into the world to gain more experience, a change sweeps over them so that they seem to be born for a second time. In all the skills of art, science, and sociability, they then rapidly catch up to and out-compete their Triangular competitors with ease.

It is rare for any of the Polygonal Class to fail their Final Test at the University, but it does happen, promising a life of pitiable misery to these unsuccessful nobles.

Cast out by other Polygons, they can make no friends among the common classes either.

They cannot function in Polygonal society because of their lack of Sight Recognition, but also have no idea how to navigate by Feel, as they’ve been forbidden and shamed out of learning it their whole lives.

There are no jobs they can perform, either professional or common, and though most States do not actually ban them from getting married, it is still difficult for them to find any willing partners, since history has shown us that the children of such marriages will be, at best similarly unfit for the noble life, or, at worst, blatantly Irregular.

This trash of the Nobility is where many of the leaders of the various Tumults and Seditions of the past centuries have risen. So many, in fact, that an increasing number of our progressive Statesmen have decided that either imprisoning these wretched outcasts for life, or at least mercy killing them, would make life easier for everyone.

But I am once again becoming distracted by the subject of Irregularity, which is actually so important for you to understand that it deserves its own separate section.

Section 07. Concerning Irregular Figures

Since the start of this book I have been assuming that my Readers in Spaceland were already aware of something that I of course take for granted. I should have made sure to explain to you the most basic, fundamental law of our society, upon which everything else is built:

Every human being in Flatland is a Regular Figure. Which means that a Woman is not simply a line, she is also a Straight Line. An Isosceles Workman or Soldier must have two of his sides equal (being an Isosceles, he is of course defined by his third side being irregular). A Tradesman must have his three sides equal. Lawyers, (the group which I, your humble narrator and guide, am apart of), must have four equal sides, and in the higher Polygon class, all sides must be, generally, equal.

The size of these equal sides of course depends on how old this person is. A Female at birth is about an inch long [around 2.5 centimeters], and a tall adult Woman might be more than 12 inches [around 30.5 centimeters] long.

As for the Males of every class, as adults, the length of all their sides, when added together, measures somewhere around two feet, give or take. [around 61 centimeters].

But it is not the length of our sides that is important. I’m talking about the Equality of the sides, and it doesn’t take a stretch of the imagination to see why the whole foundation of civilization in Flatland rests upon the fundamental fact that Nature wills all Figures to have their sides equal.

If our sides were unequal our angles might be unequal.

Instead of simply being able to judge a single angle by feel or by sight, you’d have to figure out the measurement of every single angle by time-consuming Feeling.

Life is too short for such mind-numbing groping. The whole science and art of Sight Recognition would be killed instantly. Feeling, as much as it can be called an art, would perish soon after.

Casual interaction would become deathly dangerous or outright impossible; no one would ever be able to interact with any stranger or make even the most basic social arrangements without being in danger. In a word, civilization would collapse into barbarism.

Am I going to fast for my Readers to understand how I’ve come to these obvious conclusions? Surely if you think for a moment, and imagine a single instance from our every day life, you’ll be convinced that every part of our society relies on Regularity, or Equality of Angles.

For example, say you meet two or three Tradesmen in the street. You know they are Tradesmen by a single glance: a seemingly straight line, with a bright point in the center, rapidly growing darker towards either end. You ask them to step into your house for lunch while you discuss business.

This is something you can do, right now, without any hesitation, because everyone knows how much space, give or take an inch or two, is taken up by an adult Triangle.

But imagine if one of these Tradesman dragged behind his regular and respectable angle, not just a straight line, but a parallelogram of twelve or thirteen inches on the diagonal. Now what are you supposed to do with a monster like that stuck in your door?

But I’m insulting the intelligence of my Readers by explaining things that are clear to anyone who lives in Spaceland. Obviously the measurement of a single angle wouldn’t help us interact with one another under such circumstances – one’s whole life would be hours upon hours of feeling or visually surveying the entire perimeter of everyone you meet.

It’s already hard enough to avoid running into others in a crowd, even for the trained wisdom of a well-educated Square! But if Regularity flew out the window, and you couldn’t assume anyone around you had logical angles, everything would devolve to chaos and confusion. The smallest panic would cause serious injuries, or -- if there happened to be any Women or Soldiers in the crowd -- considerable loss of life.

This is why Expediency teams up with Nature in stamping the seal of it’s approval on Regularity of conformation, and the Law, of course, seconds their efforts.

To us, “Irregularity of Figure” means a combination of both inherent moral failure and purposeful criminality, and is treated accordingly.

We do, of course, have some distributors of writings that claim there is no inherent connection between geometrical and moral Irregularity.

“The Irregular”, they say, “is, from the moment he’s born, rejected by his parents, bullied by his brothers and sisters, neglected by his nurses, scorned and suspected by society, and excluded from all forms of trust, responsibility, and fulfilling jobs.

“His every movement is openly surveiled by the police until he comes of age, and presents himself for inspection. Then, he is either destroyed if he is found to be Irregular past the set margin of deviation, or imprisoned in a Government Facility as a desk worker of the seventh class.

“Barred from marriage, forced to serve at a boring job for practically no pay, and with no other choice but to live and eat entirely at this same office, unable even to take a vacation except without a guard escorting him like the prisoner that he is – then is it any wonder that human nature, no matter how pure or benevolent it started out when he was born, becomes bitter and corrupted with a lifetime of this kind of treatment?”

None of this very plausible reasoning convinces me, nor has it convinced the wisest of our Statesmen, that our ancestors made a mistake when they set down the law that mandated Irregularity as incompatible with the safety of the State.

I have no doubt that the life of an Irregular is hard, but the best interests of the rest of society requires that it be hard.

If a man with a triangular front and polygonal back were allowed to exist, and to father even more Irregular children and grandchildren, what would become of the arts of life? Are the houses and doors and churches all supposed to be changed to accommodate such monsters? Are the ticket-sellers supposed to measure every man’s perimete before they let him into a theater, or to take his place in a lecture hall?

Is an Irregular supposed to be exempt from military service? And if not, how is he going to be stopped from killing his comrades by accident?

And just think of the horrible crimes and lies these creatures must be tempted to commit! It’d be so easy for him to enter a shop with his polygonal front forward, and order whatever he likes, on promise of future payment, from a too-trusting salesman!

Let the falsely claimed “Philanthropists” beg all they like for the abolishment of the Irregular Penal Laws, they won’t convince me, because I, for one, have never known an Irregular who wasn’t what Natuer clearly intended him to be – a hypocrite, a misanthrope, and, as far as he can succeed, a perpetrator of all kinds of mischief.

Not that I would (at the moment) recommend the extreme measures adopted by some States, where any infant whose angle deviates by half a degree from the expected angularity is summarily destroyed at birth.

Some of our best men, men of real genius, suffered, in their early childhood, through deviations as great as--or even greater than-- forty-five minutes. The loss of their precious lives would have been an irreparable injury to the State.

We have also achieved many victories in the art of healing, allowing most Irregularities to be either partly, or entirely, cured, through the use of medical compressions, extensions, fuses, and more.

I would say there is no point at which we should look at a newborn and decide it is incurably Irregular – but, if the Irregularities cannot be cured before the body begins to form its permenant shape, and the Medical Board has declared that nothing can be done to salvage it, then I would suggest that the Irregular offpring be painlessly euthanized.

Section 08. Of the Ancient Practice of Painting

If my Readers have been paying attention to this story so far, you may have realized that life in Flatland can be a little boring.

Obviously, I’m not saying there aren’t the wars, scandals, uphevals and drama that are supposed to make History interesting, or that we don’t enjoy our lives, as strange as they may seem to you in Spaceland. There is something indescribably invigorating about the need for constant calculating of angles, and the usually-instant gratification of knowing you’ve done so correctly.

I mean from the aesthetic, artistic point of view, that Flatland is, very literally, dull.

It would be difficult for it not to be, when all our lives, ideas, hopes, dreams, even our artistic masterpeices of all kinds, are nothing but a straight line, with no variation at all except for small differences of brightness and shadow.

It wasn’t always like this.

If our Tradition can be trusted, then we know that long ago, Colour allowed our ancestors to live in a splendor we can barely imagine.

Long ago, in the remotest ages of history, it is said that a Pentagon whose name we do not know for sure accidentally invented some simple colours, and a method of painting. It is said that he immediately began decorating his house. Then he painted his slaves, then his Father, his Sons, his Grandsons, and, finally, himself.

The beauty, and convenience, of the results were admired by everyone.

This Pentagon’s most commonly accepted name among historians is ‘Chromatistes’, and wherever he went, turning his colourful frame, he was the center of attention and respect.

No one needed to take the time to “feel” him anymore, and no one confused his front from his back. Every move he made was easily read by those nearby without any effort on their part or the need for calculation. No one bumped into him, or failed to move out of his way. He did not have to waste his breath exclaiming his rank, as we colourless Squares and Pentagons have to today, to get a crowd of ignorant Isosceles to show us our due respect.

The fashion spread like wildfire. Before the week was over, every Square and Triangle in the distinct had copied his example, and only a few of the more conservative Pentagons refused to join in.

After the first month or two, even the twelve-sided Dodecagons had fallen into the trend.

In less than a single year, the habit had spread to all classes in the district except the highest of the Nobility.

Needless to say, it didn’t take long for this trend to make its way out of Chromatistes’ neighborhood and into surrounding regions.

Within two generations, there was no one left colourless except the Women and the Priests.

With these two classes, Nature herself seemed to plant herself as a barrier to protest this infection spreading further.

For the Innovators, as they were called, having multiple sides was almost a requirement for having colour. They would say, “Distinction of sides is intended by Nature to imply distinction of colours”.

These words were popular, flying from neighbor to neighbor, and helped to convert whole towns at a time to the new cultural wave.

But it seemed that this idea could not be applied to Priests and Women. Women, being Straight Lines, have only one side, and thus, in all ways that matter, have No Sides. Women hated to admit this, and were ashamed of it.

On the other hand, Priests, if we are to accept that they are true Circles, and not just very high-ranking Polygons with many small sides, loved to brag and boast that they also had no sides, and were instead being blessed with a perimeter of a single line, or, in other words, a Circumference.

I hope you can see now why these two Classes could not be convinced by the so-called universal truth of “Distinction of Sides implying Distinction of Colour”, when it could not, apparently, be applied to them.

Even after everyone else succumbed to the temptation of self-decoration, the Priests and Women alone were still pure and unpolluted by the touch of paint.

Immoral, vulgar, anarchical, unscientific, there are many names used to describe the ancient days of the Colour Revolt, but, from an aesthetic point of view, those days were the glorious birth of Art in Flatland. A childhood that, unfortunately, was cut short before it could mature to adulthood, or even enjoy its youth.

To live them was to live in a world of endless delight, because living meant seeing, and even the smallest group of friends was a delight to the eyes, and the richly varied colours in a church or theater are said to have, many times, been so distractingly beautiful by the actors and teachers that they forgot their jobs.

But the most beautiful sight was said to have been the unspeakable magnificence of a military performance.

Imagine it: To see twenty thousand black-painted Isosceles bases suddenly spin to reveal the orange and purple of their two sides at their acute point. The Equilateral Triangles tri-coloured in red, white, and blue. The Square artillarymen rapidly rotating to show mauve, ultra-marine, gamboge, and burnt umber, with their vermillion guns.

The dashing and flashing of the five-coloured Pentagons and six-coloured Hexagons racing across the fields with their surgeons, geometricians, and chiefs of staff.

With this fabulous display of colour at military parades, its easy to believe the famous story of a powerful Circle king, who found the sight of his army so beautiful that he at once threw away his royal crown and ceremonial baton, and declared that from that day forward, he was never going to pick up another tool besides the artist’s brush.

The vocabulary alone that they used to express themselves shows how amazingly colourful the times they lived in were. Even the most mundane statements made by the poorest citizens during the Colour Revolt seem to be infused with a richness and creativity that is lacking today.

All of our finest poetry, and even the little bit of rhythm and rhyme that can still be found in our scientific statements of today, we owe to the amazing era of the Colour Revolt.

Section 09. Of the Universal Colour Bill

But while the beauty of colour was thriving, the intellectual Arts were quickly dying out.

No one needed to use Sight Recognition anymore, so they stopped practicing it altogether. Soon, the studies of Geometry, Statics, Kinetics, and other similar subjects became considered pointless as well, and became looked down upon, even at our greatest University!

Not even the inferior Art of Feeling was immune, and stopped being taught at our Elementary Schools.

Then the Isosceles classes, pointing to the fact that the Specimens were no longer needed for teaching, refused to pay up the members from the Criminal class that were owed to the schools, and as a result, their numbers, and their disrespect towards the more Noble classes, increased by the day now that they were no longer subject to the custom that had both thinned their excessive numbers, and removed the most dangerous of them from society.

Year by year, the Soldiers and Workers began to insist more and more often – and with increasing truth to their claim – that there was no real difference between them and the highest ranking Polygons, now that they could deal with all the problems of life just as easily as the nobility by simply using Color Recognition.

And they weren’t happy to just let Sight Recognition naturally die either, they began to actively cause its death by demanding the right to learn it themselves, calling for the law to ban the “monopolization of aristocratic Arts”, and thus ban the exclusive scholarships that allowed the higher, non-Criminal classes to study Sight Recognition, Mathematics, and even Feeling.

It wasn’t long before they began insisting that Color, which was a second Nature, had now destroyed the need for aristocratic distinctions at all, and so this meant that the Law should follow the same path, and legally recognize all classes as absolutely equal and entitled to equal rights.

When it became clear that the higher Orders were undecided and wavering in their convictions, the Revolution pushed even harder, demanding, at last, that all classes, including the Priests and Women, should honor Colour by allowing themselves to be painted.

When it was argued that Priests and Women had no sides, so couldn’t be painted, the Revoluntionists retorted that Nature and Expediency had worked together to make the solution to this problem simple: that the front half of every human being, containing his eye and mouth, should be easy to tell apart from his back half.

They created a Bill which they showed in front of an extraordinary meeting of all the States of Flatland, proposing that all Women should have the front half of her painted red, and her back half painted green. The priests were to be painted the same way – red on the half of their body where their mouth and eye were, and green for the rest.

You can see how devilishly clever this proposal was, and trust me, this plan was not created by any Isosceles – we all know they’re too degraded to understand, let alone think of, such an amazing political move.

No, the creator of this plan was an Irregular Circle who escaped being destroyed in his childhood due to foolish sentimentality, and was now repaying that kindness by bringing down destruction upon his country, and on his countless followers.

One part of this ingenious plan was to win over the Women of all classes into joining with the side of Chromatic Innovation. Because by painting Women with the same two colors as the Priests, the Revolutionaries guarenteed that it would be easy to mistake a woman standing in a certain pose as a Priest, and treated accordingly. This could not fail to appeal to masses of the Female Sex.

But I understand that some of my Readers might not understand how a Woman and a Priest could be confused even under the new Legislation, so let me explain it to you first, it’s very easy to follow.

Imagine that a Woman – a Straight Line – is decorated according to this new Code: her front half, or head, painted red, and her back end painted green.

Imagine you are looking at her from the side, as we would see her in Flatland – obviously, you will see a straight line, half red, half green.

Now imagine a Priest, a diagram of which will be provided below. His mouth is at M, and his front semicircle is colored red, and his hind semicircle green.

As demonstrated in the diagram above, ff you look at this Great Man from the side, you will see a straight line that is half red, and half green.

The line you see may be shorter than a fully-grown Woman would be, and might grow darker at the edges faster than a Woman’s edges would, but the colors alone would be doing most of the work in identifying this person’s Class to you, allowing you to be lazy and ignore those details, making it easy to confuse a Priest with a Woman if you are not paying strict attention.

Below is another diagram to illustrate the similarities.

Now, don’t forget what I have already told you – that Sight Recognition was dying out as an art at the time of the Color Revolt, and

#Flatland #Rjalker writes Flatland a 2023 translation #WIP #work in progress #Rjalker reads Flatland a Romance of Many Dimensions

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tellthemeerkatsitsfine · 1 year

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All right, all right, all right! I’m a day late because I was out last night again, but I’m home now, let’s do this! Thoughts on Taskmaster s15e02, written as I watch it:

- I didn’t mention this last week, but Ivo Graham with a beard is unsettling. I mean, people can do what they like with their appearance and all, but that one may not be the best idea.

- Right, I haven’t seen any of the prize tasks except the first one, but if no one besides Kiell brought in anything that requires us to look at feet, then Kiell needs to win this task. I am genuinely not enjoying Kiell bringing in an excuse to have the cameras focus on both a picture of a foot and Alex’s actual foot, give him five points for achieving weirdness and make it go away.

- Greg is, annoyingly, correct to say that Mae’s object isn’t weird, it’s just your reflection that’s weird. I say “annoyingly” because Mae really eagerly trying to sell people on someone they’ve come up with is... genuinely, I’ve had crushes on Taskmaster contestants before but never to the extent that I’ve had my current problem, where I have difficulty writing about the episode without mentioning it every 5-10 sentences. I’ll try to stop.

- I am 100% behind the levels to which Ivo is taking his argument. Getting into the wording of the task – it’s supposed to be “whenever you look at it”, so needing to look at it for ten minutes like Mae’s mirror shouldn’t count. Explaining that he has practice of looking at it all the time and weirdness occurs every time, and Kiell can’t say the same because he designed the foot glove just for this task. This guy has watched all his friends play Taskmaster, studied their strategies, has his social standing riding on his performance in a way that I’m going to guess, say, Frankie Boyle, does not. This is high-level Taskmaster here, well done, Ivo. I still can’t wait to see you get bullied in the team tasks, but well done.

- Aaawwwwwww. Awwwwww. A Rhod Gilbert reference. A Rhod Gilbert reference in something that was filmed while he was receiving treatment for advanced cancer (I mean, I assume he still is, but he’s also filming TV things again and looks to be recovering, and I’m not sure that was the case as of last summer). Awwwww. Jenny’s thing doesn’t really work for the reasons Ivo pointed out, it doesn’t feel weird “every time you look at it” because that only works if you stare at it for ages, but anyway, lovely little Rhod Gilbert reference. Also, love that they’re saving Frankie Boyle for last on the “thing that makes you feel weird” task. What have you got, Frankie?

- I knew Frankie wouldn’t let me down with this. Obviously he went historical. Yeah, medieval paintings of cats are weirder than feet. He needs to win.

- I’d have swapped Kiell and Frankie, but otherwise agree with the harsh but fair scoring. I like rewarding Ivo’s intricate arguments by giving him two more points than both the people who finished below him.

I don’t know what this means, but I’m guessing it might be that they’ve brought in a concept from Taskmaster NZ, when they had each contestant film a small part of an action movie, and then put it all together later to make one movie. Which I guess was originally a Taskmaster UK concept, from season 10 when they filmed the detective thing with each person playing a different part, and then with Richard Herring playing every part. It’s a concept I like, so I hope they are in fact going to film them each playing some music and then put it together.

Jesus Fucking Christ. Okay I’m done. I won’t bring it up anymore. I promise.

- Oh shit, Horne Section. Ohhhhh, I see. The great band that was separated wasn’t the Taskmaster contestants, playing stuff alone and then going back together. It’s the Horne Section. Cool.

- The task didn’t say anything about “most [adjective] [noun] wins”, so that means it’s a two-parter. They may still have to fit these together somehow. Also, the task said it must be “less than thirty seconds long”, which is weird, because normally Alex Horne is right with me in correcting people every time they say “less” when they should say “fewer”. You let this one slip, Horne.

- They were correct to give Frankie the percussion instruments. I like Kiell’s attitude. Ivo briefly thinking “I”, “V”, and “O” might be music notes was quite funny. Really enjoying Jenny’s unnecessarily exuberant and surprisingly low-pitched singing. Mae, do we really need to bring more feet into this episode? Have we not already had enough feet in this episode?

- I didn’t really know what to expect from Frankie Boyle on Taskmaster, but if I’d absolutely had to try to guess, I’d have pretty much said this:

- I promise this isn’t another gratuitous screenshot of how attractive Mae Martin is; I just wanted to capture the look of utter shock on their face when Alex handed them the extra card.

The sense of betrayal from Alex. The underlying disappointment in themself for not seeing this coming. The whiplash in going from relaxing because the task is over to ramping the tension right back up, 0-100 in half a second, a reminder that you have to be always on your guard in this show. There’s Taskmaster summed up in one screenshot.

- Ah, the twist is that they have to play along. It’s not really a music task, it’s an arts and crafts task! That’s fun.

- I mean, some of those instruments are easier to copy than others. Frankie probably got an unfair advantage there, the drums have to be the easiest to copy. But I don’t mind, because I want to watch Frankie Boyle play makeshift drums.

- I think they undervalued Jenny Eclair’s trumpet miming in the studio chat. That was good. I could believe that was her playing if I didn’t look too hard at the instrument. She looks like she should be dramatically playing a trumpet in a club somewhere.

- Frankie’s miming was not remotely in time to the music, but he looked like he was having so much fun out there. Someone needs to gif that. I might need to gif that later. I want a moving image of Frankie Boyle playing the drums and having a great time.

“I see your Diverse Stripes, Nish. And sure it was impressive, but you made one crucial mistake: not wearing sunglasses.”

Incredible screenshot.

- Some really interesting camera decisions in the filming of Ivo. I’m not sure I needed that under-his-legs-looking-up angle on those loose shorts. But A+ for effort on the contestant’s part, as I’ve quickly come to expect from him.

- 1) Mae Martin making a joke about “Mae-stro” and then immediately trying to take it back - “I don’t want to lose points from Mae-stro”: solid Taskmaster play, I like the level of paranoia that Taskmaster instills in its most competitive contestants. Mae Martin about to play an instrument with their foot: not ideal. Not... not something I would like on my computer screen, thank you.

- I think Mae was the best one so far at miming in time to the music. Not bad arts and crafts work either. Good attention to detail. Thankfully minimal foot involvement.

- Well, Kiell was definitely the worst at the arts and crafts potion, there have to be more accurate ways to create a facsimile keyboard than to just put a bunch of books in a row. Also, he just repeated the grammatically incorrect task over and over, causing me to have to say “fewer” at my screening increasingly annoyed voices.

On the other hand, he may win for the person who had the best time out there:

Again, I’m just really enjoying Kiell’s whole vibe. Competitive, but not as overt about it as Mae or Ivo. Getting fully into everything, to an exaggerated degree. Picking at things and not letting them go, like the thing about the musician’s age.

- Whoa. That was ridiculously generous scoring and I don’t think I see Greg’s logic with any of it, but fun task all the same.

- Yes! Team task! I’ve been looking forward to these so much.

You know, normally when I say what contestants I’d like on a team together, I just pick pairs of people and hope they’re with each other, either on their own or in three. But in this case, I really like that Frankie and Ivo are specifically the team of two. No one for Frankie to pawn off the task of interacting with Ivo on, no one for Ivo to hide behind, no one to dilute the extraordinary amounts of awkward tension that I imagine occur when you put together two people who are so very, very different.

And on the other side, obviously I’m looking forward to the clash of Charlotte Ritchie’s husbands, and to two highly competitive contestants who will hype up each other’s competitive natures all in the midst of Jenny Eclair’s cloud of chaos.

I’m writing this before seeing any of this task, just to have a record of what I’m expecting going in. Expectations are high. I think Ivo might get eaten alive.

- I always look forward to that moment in the first team task, when the contestants see their teammates for the first time. As far as those moments go, this one’s pretty good:

- Oh my God. It’s perfect. Thank you, Taskmaster, this is exactly what I wanted.

I’m trying to picture the meeting where they divided up the teams. I hope they weren’t forced to do this by schedules or whatever, I hope all the contestants had availability on all potential days, just because it’s funnier if the Taskmaster people planned this. “Guys. Guys. Let’s put the incredibly posh English private school boy with Frankie Boyle. We have to, right? We can’t waste that opportunity.” Their decision to film and edit this entrance like a horror movie makes it so clear that they knew exactly what they were doing.

I mean, these two are rivalling Joe Thomas and Sian Gibson for most awkward initial meeting. But Joe and Sian eventually settled into their own sort of weird, awkward chemistry. I feel like Frankie and Ivo can keep up this level of non-meshing, actively clashing, energies all season. At least all day, as they film the team tasks.

One of Charlotte Ritchie’s husbands standing on tip-toes to hug Charlotte Ritchie’s other husband, while the trailblazing first woman to ever win a Perrier Award looks on. Thanks, Taskmaster. What a good day for feminism.

Incredible. You can’t script that level of awkward. I’m so glad they didn’t try to edit around the less-than-slick television of Ivo talking over Frankie’s one-sentence potato anecdote to say hello to Alex.

Normally when I get screenshots of Ivo I carefully time it so I can get him when his eyes are open, which is rarely. But I think in this case, catching him in his usual state, which is with his eyes closed (seriously, I did not notice how true this was until I made that video last year with all these contestants, and struggled to find clips of Ivo where he was both moving around the stage/set and has his eyes open, he mostly just stands still with his eyes closed) captures the atmosphere better.

- Oh cool, two season 2 references. Obviously a potato next to the red green that can’t be touched is invoking Joe Wilkinson. And a bridge for a potato is invoking Debajo De La Mesa.

- I think from now on, my entire blog may just turn into a repository for screenshots of Frankie Boyle and Ivo Graham together.

- Yeah, this is all I actually want out of a television show.

You’re close, Ivo, but not quite - you’re wrong about it being an either/or. What we want is for one team to be the first thing and the other team to be the second thing, so they can be contrasted in ways that make each one more amusing when set against the other, and can occasionally be edited together in a montage designed to make the differences hilariously clear. And I know I haven’t even seen the first team task yet, but I think this season might out-do all previous ones in that way.

- Are we going to keep up the joke all season where Frankie Boyle is like Ivo Graham’s father who didn’t love him? Because I’m on board with that.

- This post is pretty screenshot heavy, there are just so many images I like.

Oh Jenny, trailblazing veteran comedian though you are, your experience clearly doesn’t extend to understand the dire consequences that can occur when a tiny bit of your shoe touches the red green, and you don’t immediately acknowledge the mistake and start over, this time doing it properly. You don’t want to hide that shit, Jenny. They’ll catch it on camera and then it’ll be worse. Mae knows. Mae’s clearly seen that episode. Mae is not here to fuck around with that sort of thing.

I do really like Mae’s particular brand of competitiveness, which is coming out in Ivo too. The kind where you want to win so much that you’re ridiculously careful about making sure you’ve followed every tiny instruction and accounted for every little thing because you can’t stand the thought of fucking up on a pointless mistake. But then because you’ve been so careful, you hold everyone else to the same standard, expect them to also have meticulously gotten everything right, and call it out if you see them get away with slacking on that, because if you bothered to get it all right then they should have to as well. And yes, at some point in that sentence it became clear that by “you”, I mean “me”, that’s how I live my life and it’s maladaptive at times. But it’s also how Mae Martin and Ivo Graham are playing Taskmaster, and I love seeing it.

- Love how much effort they put into the barrel bridge before realizing they can just use duct tape and poles. Also:

Brilliant. I really hope this screenshot embodies what this team will be like all season, with the two competitive contestants carefully managing a tricky solution to the task, and Jenny dancing and singing on the sidelines for moral support.

- Mae Martin: Stop the clock, I think.

Kiell Smith-Bynoe: I think we could go higher.

Mae Martin: No, I’m scared.

Yep, that’s the kind of so-competitive-you-come-back-around-to-being-cautious I’m talking about. Also, I’m scared too Mae. This is genuinely tense, don’t fuck it up.

No! Careful! I mean, I love the symbolism of the early female comedian from back before they invented more than like four women in comedy, assisting the young(er) queer comedian who’s existing in a world created by the previous generation of feminist trailblazers. But also, I’m worried about all the little things that can go wrong here. I know Mae is meticulous, but how carefully his Jenny watching her shoes’ proximity to the red green?

- After I wrote that last point, I hit “play” on the video again, they raised it even higher, some of the tape started stretching, and without consciously meaning to, I started saying: “No, stop the clock, stop the clock!” out loud, to my laptop screen. At the same time, heard my voice joined by Mae Martin’s:

I get you, Mae. I get you. Do you want to be, like, best friends, or something? You’re not looking for a wife, are you, if Charlotte Ritchie’s off somewhere else?

- Oh God. That was tense. They did it. Well done all around, everyone. Competence on Taskmaster, who would have expected that?

- Ivo. Honey. What are you. What are you doing?

The board isn’t part of it, buddy. What are you doing?

...I knew I was looking forward to seeing Ivo Graham fall apart merely from being in the presence of Frankie Boyle, but I don’t think I expected it to engender quite so much of my current reaction, which is wanting to protect him like a child. Go build the bridge, Ivo.

- There’s a lot of competition in this category, but I think this might be my favourite screenshot of this whole episode so far:

- And it was beaten for that spot a split second after I posted it:

- I don’t know why since there’s been so much other good stuff, but my hardest laugh of this episode so far has come from Ivo Graham going in the house to try to find something that’ll actually work, and Frankie Boyle marches predatorily after him to suggest that they roll the potato in a tube.

- Oh shit. You know what, I was making fun of Frankie’s tube idea, but credit where it’s due, I stand correct. That worked really well.

Greg knows what’s up. Greg’s the one saying the quote in that caption, but from the grin on his face, Alex is also aware that they’ve struck fucking gold with that pairing.

At the end of the season I want to collect all these Frankie/Ivo screenshots (I just remembered that I said last week I’m going to call them “Franko”, I’ll have to start that next week), rank them by awkwardness, and put them in a collage.

And as we come down from the 18 different types of tension at play in the previous task, now we’re in the lab, setting shit on fire. Awesome.

- So it’s the season 8 little finger task, but with a breath instead. Okay. I’m on board.

- Jenny Eclair wants to resuscitate a dying animal. I admire the ambition.

- I think Mae and Kiell’s idea for this probably what I’d do. See if you can set off a chain reaction by blowing on something small. But I think I’d go smaller scale than this - I’m now thinking of the season six task when they tried to extinguish a candle by blowing through a pipe that size, and it didn’t go too well.

- Mae Martin kissing a marble and ordering it not to fuck up: yes, that’s the level of competitiveness we want out of Taskmaster.

- Kiell, you have to put the ball a little way into the pipe before you blow on it, so it’s already going in the right direction. It isn’t lighter than air.

- Again, the level of intensity:

We’re all very attracted to hot queer people who get disproportionately intense about stuff, right? That’s not just me?

- Holy shit, Mae’s worked! I didn’t think it was going to, I thought they put the xylophone too far away. But of course they must have tested it, they’re not messing around.

- Well, didn’t think Kiell’s would work either, so I was right one out of the two times. Also, I don’t think he started that one with a breath. I think he just dropped it down the tube.

- Oh good, marble runs are the smart way to go, but I’d have been disappointed if they’d put fire in the intro and then no one brought fire into the actual task. I’m learning that we can count on Jenny for that sort of thing. Wouldn’t it be fun if it became a running joke throughout the season that Jenny’s thing is setting shit on fire?

- Holy hell. I thought Jenny was going to light a candle in the caravan and then put it out, but she is now actually lighting the curtains on fire. I’ve said before that Taskmaster NZ is fun because it has more lax health and safety standards that Taskmaster UK (I’m not... I mean, politically and just morally I’m aware that health and safety and other regulations are a good thing, sometimes my taste in comedy does not perfectly line up with my actual beliefs, like how funny I think it is to watch Ivo Graham get bullied on a panel show), but that’s taking quite a risk in this one.

New hardest laugh of the episode. If I hadn’t paused the video to write this, I’d have had to pause it anyway to laugh. Brilliant. No notes.

- So, I’ve been taking these one at a time and only focusing on Jenny so far, but what the fuck is Frankie doing?

Is that... is that someone who doesn’t work for the show? Is that just a guy? It’s been mentioned a couple of times before that the Taskmaster house is near a golf course - in season six, when the contestants had to get back to the house, they were asking people for directions “to the golf course”. And in season 7 when they had to throw things over the fence, they talked about seeing people playing golf in the distance. But I thought that was, you know, the distance. Presumably they don’t just have golfers that close to the house while they’re filming.

Holy fuck. Holy fuck. That was incredibly funny. I still don’t understand why that guy was there, it doesn’t matter. Frankie Boyle fucking with a golfer and then folding over in silent giggles like a child playing a door-knocking prank, but it isn’t a child, it’s Frankie Boyle with a golfer, possibly his least favourite type of person after privately educated posh English boys - fucking hell that’s funny. I’d watch a whole show of just Frankie doing that.

True, but perhaps not the best way to ingratiate yourself with the hosts of this show, or least with one of them, and that reminds me, Alex, please cast your buddy John Robins on here someday.

- Alex just told us that the garden “backs onto a golf course”, so I guess they’re a lot closer to it than I’d thought.

Seriously, fucking commission that. I’d watch it, and I’m not alone. Raise your hand if you’d watch an entire show of Frankie Boyle blowing whistles in inappropriate places.

- Well, I got so into Ivo’s task attempt that I haven’t even catalogued it (which is probably fine, I definitely did not need to screenshot nearly as much of this episode as I did), and at the end, it at least came close to matching Frankie’s attempt in my hardest laugh of the episode. Oh, that was a beautiful disaster. Trying the radio first, getting rejected. Then getting rejected by Greg. Then by Ed Gamble. Apologizing for breaking glasses and then failing to break glasses. Failing to break glasses, how hard can that be? I thought he was going to do creepily sexy breathing down the phone at Ed, but instead for some reason he really intensely sort of breathily shouted.

Oh yes, Ivo. It feels like one point. But it was a heroic failure.

And to be fair, Kiell’s breath wasn’t even what moved the ball. Ivo did move the basketball with his breath. If you say Ivo’s “one breath” was the last one he took, since that’s the one that actually moved the ball, then that probably took place after Ed Gamble hung up. So he didn’t even annoy Ed with that one, and the glasses didn’t break. But he did move a ball. More, technically, than Kiell did.

- Wow, the scoring is all over the place here. I feel like Greg took on board accusations of being too generous at other times, and might be overcorrecting. But then he was weirdly generous in the music task.

Anyway, scoring aside, that was a great bit of chat following that task. Ivo and Kiell sniping at each other to continue the animosity developed in the last week’s prize task. Mae trying to remind people of their nice little bing. Greg saying he can’t give five points for “putting off a golfer”. Frankie Boyle, of all people, accusing him of being jaded. Alex correcting Greg’s scoring (and being right - Kiell should definitely not have beaten Jenny or even Ivo) and Greg acquiescing. There seemed to be a bit of distance in the studio in last week’s episode, but they’re getting into it now.

- Love Ivo covering hi smouth in shock at the sight of that scoreboard:

I don’t imagine this will happen much, but it is fun to see Frankie Boyle at the top of a Taskmaster board.

- Ah, the old Taskmaster classic: arts and crafts with visual and material-based restrictions. A classic for a reason.

- Ivo not just looking under his table, but spinning it around to see the whole thing:

That is a man who has seen Taskmaster before, and has just watched his own potato bridge task, possibly being reminded of previous potato bridge tasks, and what lessons they’ve taught us. Debajo De La Mesa. And it worked out this time, there were scissors.

- I think how very fucking pleased with himself Kiell looked after coming up with his idea summarizes his whole vibe in quite a fun way.

- As the second one to complete the task, Frankie looks... less pleased with himself, in a way that also summarizes his vibe.

- Kiell, you fucking idiot! Just say it’s a caterpillar and you’d be fine! It looks more like a caterpillar than a snake anyway! Frankie’s not going to be at the top of the scoreboard often, don’t take this episode away from him!

- Yeah, Greg’s right, Mae’s was good. It should have won for not just being tape on a board. But I think that scoring was mostly right.

- Oh God, that was fucking good. The whole episode, so good. I thought last week’s was a good opener, but the quality here has escalated as they’ve settled into it. Also, this post got a little out of hand, I’m going to need to make fewer screenshots and comments next time because stopping it so often means this whole thing took me about four hours (though I did also stop and do laundry and make lunch). But fuck it, I have nothing else to do on this holiday Friday, and that was great.

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harryhoney-bee · 2 years

Text

I fall to pieces when I'm with you

Summary: Reader and Harry’s routine during a concert day, with lots of smut and lots of soft boyfriend!h

Warnings: Unprotected sex, use of showerhead, belly riding, a bit of domination, cockwarming, mentions of anxiety, and angst (very small, just an argument between Harry and reader).

Word count: 11.1k

Besties, there are like 3 smut scenes, so I hope it will feed you well.

My kofi in case you wanna support me in any way!

Y/n’s face was completely pressed against the soft pillow, her eyes were closed, her mouth slightly open, enjoying the comforting feeling that came with being in the limbo between being awake or asleep. Her body felt completely numb, the mattress was so cozy she could barely feel her torso or arms, it was like she was sinking in it. The only thing that assured her was in fact completely alive and in the same reality, she was when she fell asleep last night, was the warm body laid by her side.

Harry had an arm wrapped around her waist, keeping her closer to him, her back squeezing against his chest, his breathing was ghosting on the place between her neck and shoulder, his other arm was above her head. Needless to say, both of them were having the time of their life sleeping in a hotel bedroom instead of the door bus.

Y/n hated the tour bus, they had almost no privacy, considering the driver was in the bus, it was very shaky, which made her sick so many times, and of course, she could never sleep peacefully without thinking that an accident might happen. Thankfully they weren’t going to use it anymore, they were going to attend the next shows in Texas and New York, and Harry had already bought their airline tickets.

The girl felt Harry moving, his hold tightening around her body, the man kissed his forehead, and then her cheek, finishing with a peck on her lips. “‘Good morning, baby,” he said, resting his head on her shoulder. “C’mon, open your eyes for me, I miss you.”

Y/n laughed, turning around and being face to face with Harry, she stared at his green eyes for a few moments, she liked to see the different shades his eyes had, some days it was blueish, others completely forest green. Every morning she would find out her new favorite color while looking at his iris.

“I think it’s too early to say good morning,” she whispered. “The curtains are open and there are barely any sunbeams through the window.”

“It’s 7:30, I think it’s early enough.”

“7:30? Bye, I’m going back to sleep.” She rolled over, going back to her original position as Harry laughed at her indignation with being awake during dawn.

“But we need to be up, love.”

“Why?” she mumbled. “Do we need to be functioning members of society or something?”

She felt Harry remove his arm from her, the mattress moved, indicating he had gotten up. “Yes, silly. But Jeff also booked a gym for us, and my mom wants to have lunch with us.”

Y/n rubbed her eyes, getting rid of the sleepiness, and sat on the floor, the blanket hitting her thighs, the chilly air of the room making her bare nipples erect, suddenly she was reminded of all the things they did last night. It was the first time since Harryween that they were alone, completely alone, without any bus driver or crew member around, let’s just say they enjoyed their new privacy a lot.

Harry was also naked but different from her, he didn’t mind. He was walking around the room picking up their clothes without a care in the world while y/n could feel her cheek warm from embarrassment. She held the blanket higher, covering her naked torso.

“Can you give me my shirt, please?” she asked shyly.

“Why? Look so pretty like that,” he told her in a dramatic sad tone. “Don’t do this to me.”

“Do what?” she laughed, forgetting her shyness duo to Harry’s playful mode. “Why do you sound so hurt?”

“Because I am.” He did the well-known Florence Pugh face before picking the shirt she was using to sleep - the one Harry took off her body without a second thought after they were done with their shower -

He went in her direction, shirt in hand. “Lift your arm.”

Y/n did what he asked, he carefully dressed her as she let go of the blanket, not feeling so vulnerable anymore, even though being naked in Harry’s presence was never an uncomfortable experience, he always worshiped her body anytime he could.

He cradled her cheeks in his hands, kissing her nose. “Cute as always, now let’s go, we don’t have much time until Jeff knocks on our door screaming at us for being late.”

“I’ll brush my teeth first,” Harry said, running off to the bathroom.

“No! You always get to brush your teeth first, it’s my turn now.” Y/n ran behind him, finding him in front of the sink, his pink toothbrush already in his mouth. “Go to the side, please.” She said, trying to find a spot in front of the sink as well, but Harry didn’t move.

She rolled her eyes playfully at his behavior, his childish grin not being unnoticed by her. The girl tried to push him again, but he didn’t move an inch. “Having troubles, sweetheart?” he mumbled ironically, she almost didn’t understand what he said because of the amount of toothpaste on his mouth.

“You are my trouble,” Y/n told him. She gave up trying to move him, instead, she decided to sit on the bathroom counter by the side of the sink. It didn’t take long until she was the same height as Harry, her legs swinging on the counter.

“Ah don’t say that, that’s mean,” Harry gave her toothpaste while making a sad face. “I’m actually the answer to all of your problems, not one of them.”

She accepted the toothbrush and started to brush her teeth. “Are you, though?” Y/n questioned him, watching as Harry put his toothbrush away and went to grab his gym clothes, which he had left in a separate bag in the corner of the bathroom.

“Of course, I am! I’m a delight to have around.” He put on his boxers, before dressing himself in some black shorts and a red hoodie.

“This is giving me flashbacks of when I wrote sunflower vol. 6,” he suddenly said, looking at her and smiling. “-Tired eyes are the death of me-” he got one step closer to her. “-mouth full of toothpaste-”. The other. “-before I got to know you.”

Harry started to do a silly dance to the song he was singing, making Y/n laugh loudly. “You are such a dork,” she said. In response, he started to do the Watermelon Sugar dance, the same one he did when he won the Grammys.

“I’m a dork who loves you very much,” he said, kissing her forehead. “I’m always going to be grateful that you got to go to the Azoff annual family trip, or else we wouldn’t have met each other, and Fine Line wouldn’t have any of its songs.”

Y/n spit the toothpaste in the sink before cleaning her mouth with water. “And you wouldn’t have won a Grammy, because Watermelon Sugar also wouldn’t exist,” she said matter-of-factly, feeling a little boost on her ego.

“That too, of course,” Harry wrapped his arm around his body, pulling her closer to the edge of the counter and closer to his chest as well. He placed his chin on the top of her head, saying non- unmannerly “I bet mt life would be meaningless if I had never tasted you, such a sweet fucking pus-”

“Harry!” she interrupted him, not expecting him to use such vulgar words. “It’s seven in the morning!” She took her head off his chest, looking at him with a fake expression of displeasure. “Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?”

He laughed at her old saying. “Well, I kiss your mouth, that gotta mean something.”

She pushed him slightly so she could get off the counter, this time he gave her space, she went in the direction of her suitcase, which was open right by the bed, she took a pair of black leggings and a lilac sports bra, going back to the bathroom to change while Harry was putting his shoes on.

When she came back, Harry was sitting on the bed scrolling through his phone. “Kim just got the Pleasing kit, just posted on her story just now.”

“Kim? Like the Kardashian? I didn’t know they had sent it to her!” Y/n said surprised, getting closer to him and sitting on his lap. Harry welcomed her as always, wrapping his left arm around her as he gave her his phone for her to see it with her own eyes.

“I didn’t either, Jeff sent a message telling me to log in and see her profile, guess this is big, right?”

“Of course! Damn, H, this is more than big, do you know if they will send it to Kylie too?”

“I don’t know, they can send it however they way, well, everyone but Kendall,” he gave her a side-eye, making sure she wasn’t feeling uncomfortable by the conversation they had just engaged in. “it would be a little-.

"Awkward"

“Weird.”

They stood quiet for a few seconds, but the quietness didn’t last long. The couple began to laugh when they realized they had said almost the same thing at the same time. “Are you ready to go, baby?” Harry asked, changing subjects.

“Yep, I’m good to go.”

“Are you sure?” His eyebrows were raised. “Not forgetting anything?”

“I mean, I just need to put on my shoes but-”

Harry suddenly kissed the side of her neck, making Y/n confused, he seemed to be in a hurry, what happened. “Everything ok, H?”

“Yeah, just that I might have been a bit too harsh yesterday and you got the purplest hickey I had ever seen right at the back of your neck.”

“What? Are you for real?” Y/n got up from his lap, heading to the big mirror in front of their bed. “Harry how am I supposed to hide this now?” she asked, turning her head to the side and analyzing the bruise. “I told you so many times not to leave any marks if we aren’t going to be alone for the week, now people will see it!”

“Hey, I’m sorry, I forgot about it, I didn’t mean to do it, I know it’s not right, especially with the paparazzi following us around,” he got closer to her, but when he tried to hug her from behind, she stepped away from him.

“Are you really mad because of it?” He asked, getting frustrated as well. Harry watched as she went to the bathroom again, this time her make-up bag in hand.

“Yes, because if I was the one who gave you a hickey Jeff would bite my head off,” she argued, applying foundation on the purple skin.

“Baby, c’mon, I will be more careful next time.”

“It’s whatever,” she mumbled. “I think I’ll just stay here.”

He looked at her like she was crazy. “Why? Don’t be dramatic, it’s not like both of us had never gone out with a hickey on some part of our body.”

“The difference, Harry, is that we didn’t have any paparazzi dying to get a picture of us, what if they get a picture of the hickey? We’ll be on gossip sites for at least a week, it’s always like that when it comes to our private life, and most important of all, our sexual life,”

“I don’t wanna go out if it meant people on Twitter saying uncomfortable things about us, I want our sex life to stay in between us,” she continued, feeling very upset about the whole situation, especially because the makeup wasn’t working.”

Harry sighed, softly holding her arms and turning her to him. “I’m very sorry, I should’ve been more mindful about it, but you can wear your jacket, that one with a higher collar, the gym is completely private inside, so you can take it off to work out.”

Harry was feeling guilty now. Y/n wasn’t famous, she was Jeff’s sister’s friend. At first, Harry was repressing his feelings for her, not wanting to be in a relationship with someone who wasn’t in the media because he knew how hard it would be to keep her privacy, but Harry just couldn’t help but kiss her back when they shared their first kiss almost three years ago.

He was responsible for her well-being, he was supposed to keep her safe from crazy fans and rude paparazzi, but sometimes he would fail, like right now. She should never feel like she couldn’t go somewhere because she was dating him. “You know what? It’s ok, we can both stay here, I really want to catch up with some reading.”

“What? No, Harry, it’s ok, you can go.”

“I won’t leave you alone in a hotel room, alright?”

“But-” She looked around, contemplating her options. She truly didn’t want to stay in the hotel room, she also didn’t want Harry to stay either, she knew how he liked to train at the gym to let the stress out. She was just scared people would see the hickey and talk their asses off about something that was supposed to be intimate.

Y/n was dating Harry for quite some time, but she still wasn’t used to the bad parts of the celebrity life, but well, she couldn’t keep on not living her life because of a couple of people who didn’t have common sense.

“Ok, Guess the jacket will cover it, right? The makeup isn’t perfect, but it’s still not as visible as before,” she told him, reminding him that Harry didn’t do this to upset her, it was only a small mistake. “Maybe after the gym, we can try to search for the best way to get rid of hickeys.”

“Are you sure? I promise I won’t be upset in any way if you want us to stay.”

“Yes, I’m sorry for overreacting, I didn’t mean to ruin our day.”

“Hey, you never ruin anything,” he took her hand and led them to the main room, where Y/n put on her jacket, assuring the hickey was indeed hiding behind the layers of fabric. “You always make my heart get warmer than any sunshine ever could.”

Harry took their shared gym bag on his shoulder, and they left the room, their hands intertwined. Harry locked the door before going to the elevator, Y/n rested her head against Harry’s body.

This was what love was supposed to be like, she thought. The desire to be closer, just to feel the other’s presence; the ability to have an argument and make it better with a couple of words, and emphatic attitudes; the feeling of home, even though someone is a thousand miles away from their house.

“Are we having breakfast at the hotel’s restaurant?” Y/n asked, humming to the elevator’s song.

“I asked Tommy to pick up our breakfast on his way to the gym, but we can go to the restaurant too, it’s up to you.”

“I think I’m good, I just really need coffee right now.”

“You sound a bit addicted to me.”

“I don’t sound, I am.”

Jeff already had his car waiting for them just across the street from the hotel, he was already there with Tommy, who had four bags of Dunkin and coffee. Jeff was driving while Tommy was in the passenger seat while Y/n and Harry were in the backseat, and Y/n was eating donuts while listening to the men’s conversation.

“The Forum is already setting everything for the fans, there are signs around the city too, this will be a lovely show, Harry,” Jeff said while sipping his coffee, Y/n laughed as Tommy made funny faces at her through the outside mirror.

“That’s impressive, thanks man,” Harry answered, resting a hand on Y/n’s thigh. “Is Lizzo coming to this one? She told me she was coming but didn’t tell me what day.”

“I’m almost sure she is coming to Saturday’s show along with the boys from BTS, at least the head of security told me they were making a private area just for Saturday, not today,” Jeff said.

“Wait, BTS is coming?!” Y/n asked in excitement. “Why didn’t you tell me? Can you introduce me to Taehyung?” She turned to Harry, almost jumping on her seat. “Please?”

“Why are you so happy about it? I’m your rockstar boyfriend, not him?” He said with a grumpy face, making everyone in the car laugh.

“You are my favorite rockstar, ok? Just… please?” she gave him her puppy eyes, taking his hand.

“Alright, I can talk to them and maybe we can all meet backstage after the show,” Y/n smiled and wrapped her arms around Harry.

“I love you,” she said in a low tone so just the two other two couldn’t hear what they were saying. “I’ll do whatever you want as a thank you.”

Harry kissed her head and hugged her back, tightening his hold. “I already have some ideas, don’t worry,” he said boyishly.

“What are you guys talking about?” Tommy asked, looking back at the two of them, who were now flushed, they quickly parted from each other, like a couple of teens who were caught messing around. Tommy gave them a judgment look, before continuing speaking. “Also, if Y/n is going to meet BTS, I want to meet them too.”

“Don’t worry, just be backstage at the next show and you guys can meet them.”

“You are the best boss,” Tommy said, turning around and looking at the road.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Harry answered cocky, making Y/n pinch him.

“Hey, what was that for?” He asked, rubbing the skin she bruised.

“Just an ego check.”

“That’s not what an ego check means,” he told her crabby, but his demeanor changed the same time she kissed her cheek.

In less than ten minutes they got to the gym, even though it was in a rather small part of LA, a few paparazzi were hiding on the other side of the road. They go inside the gym, being met by a completely empty building, well, besides the staff who was there working. The group greeted everyone there before heading to the room to start their workout.

Jeff and Tommy wanted to do some boxing, so they went in the opposite direction to Y/n and Harry. The couple was in a room with weight lift equipment, treadmills, and an area just for stretching and other exercises that didn’t require any equipment. Both of them started to work out separately, making small conversations.

“I’m dying,” Y/n said while lying down on the floor, sweat rolling from her forehead to the floor.

“You literally did 5 push-ups.”

“I know! Tiring right?” She sat down, taking a sip from her bottle of water and enjoying the moment to look at Harry’s body, well, thirst over it. He was in front of her lifting weights shirtless, his biceps and abs free of any fabric.

Y/n wasn’t a fan of the gym, but she sure enjoyed watching Harry train. He always looked so focused and well, hot. His curls would stick to the sides of his forehead, his cheeks and lips would get a brighter shade of pink, just like his cheeks. She could stare at him for hours, but, unfortunately, looking at Harry wasn’t considered any type of exercise, so she got up from the floor and started running on the treadmill.

Taylor Swift was playing on her Air Pods, the album of reputation album, to be more exact, she wanted to feel like a badass, and nothing made her feel more powerful than to listen to “this is what we can have nice things” and “I did something bad”.

Y/n continued on the treadmill, taking short breaks of five minutes as Harry kept on lifting weights, after 30 minutes he changed to the peck deck machine and Y/n couldn't help but stare at his chest and arms flexing with each movement.

“You aren’t as subtle as you think, angel,” Harry said cocky, turning his head to look at her.

Y/n rolled her eyes but still felt her cheeks burn for being caught.

“You don’t need to feel embarrassed, I’m also looking at you a lot, those pants fit your ass perfectly,” Harry continued, loving watching her under his gaze.

“Shut up,” she just told him, focusing on her run, but feeling happy that Harry watched her the same way she watched him.

They continued training until it was near 11 am, so the couple decided to leave and go back to the hotel. They asked if Jeff and Tommy wanted to join them, but the two men wanted to spend more time at the gym. The couple went ahead to say their goodbyes and headed to the exit, the paparazzi were still there, trying to get a picture of them together.

Harry noticed Y/n was nervous, so he wrapped an arm around her waist, bringing her closer. “It’s ok, we're going to get in the car very fast, they won’t bother us.” He was trying to soothe her, he hated being the reason for Y/n’s distress.

“I’m not worried, it’s alright,” she lied. Harry knew the girl with the palm of his hand, he didn’t know why she would lie about her feelings like that, especially if it was something obvious, everybody, who didn’t know Y/n could see how stressed she was.

Harry said nothing, he just took her hand and quickly opened the gym’s door, making sure Y/n was right on his side. Thankfully the paparazzi stayed away, or else Harry would cause a scene. Y/n hated bright lights on her face, it gave her migraines, once they were "attacked" by paparazzi and she was up all night not being able to sleep because of the migraines.

When the chilly air met their faces, they quickly walked to the car, the paparazzi were calling for them, but the couple ignored them. Harry opened the door so Y/n could get in first, after she was settled, he followed her, finally feeling relaxed inside the comfort of their car.

The motorist asked if they were going to the hotel, and they answered with a yes. Y/n rested her head on Harry's shoulder as they drove away, the day barely started but Y/n was already tired, all she wanted was a shower.

"I'm sorry for the paparazzi," Harry mumbled, massaging Y/n’s back as the warm water from the show washed over their bodies.

Harry loved Y/n and wanted to show the whole world how beautiful and amazing she was, but whenever they were in public, she would get stressed and anxious, so it just wasn't worth it.

A lot of people said he was fake dating Y/n, or, the most absurd thing he ever read, that he was ashamed to be seen with her. Most people didn't know that was true, they chose not to know the truth. Harry just wanted to keep her safe and away from the mean– gossip magazines –world

"Not your fault, H," she answered, placing her hand on top of Harry’s, which made him stop massaging. "At least they didn't scream any mean things today," she joked, but Harry didn’t laugh.

When they first got together, and people didn't know she was connected with the Azoff, they would create the most bizarre theories. Even the paparazzi, which were normally just there to take pictures, would ask Y/n if she was a gold digger.

Needless to say, it was a very dark moment in their lives, but thank God it stopped, at least for a bit.

Harry kissed the place where her shoulders and neck met. "I will never let that happen again, never, alright?"

Y/n turned around, now facing him. "I know, but it's ok if it happens again, we don't have much control over what other people say about us." Y/n wrapped her hands around Harry's shoulder, pressing their chest together. "Please don’t beat yourself over it, H."

"I don’t beat myself over it, darling," Harry mumbled, resting his chin on her head. "Just want to make sure you are ok, that's it."

"I'm always ok when I'm with you."

They stood like that for a few minutes, just cleaning and enjoying each other’s bodies, but one of them couldn’t help their body reaction, which was Harry. Y/n quickly noticed his cock hitting the inside of her thighs, when she looked at Harry, he had his gaze fixed on the top of her head, his cheeks red.

"Harry, are you–"

"It will go down, ok?"

"We are just having a shower together!" She laughed, but Harry’s face turned twice as bright as it was. "Wait, are you embarrassed, baby?"

"Shut up, and let's not talk about it," he said grumpily, turning around, but Y/n knew he didn't mean it.

It was funny how Harry could have the dirtiest mouth ever but could feel embarrassed by having an unexpected boner.

Y/n kissed Harry's shoulder, pressing her tits to his wet back, she wrapped a hand around his body, resting it right below his navel, playing with his happy trail and Harry held his breath. "I'm not making fun of you baby, just funny to see how horny you get sometimes."

"It's not funny," he said in a low voice, stuttering the closer Y/n got to his cock. "I- We were talking about something serious, and I wanted to give you my full attention, I don't think only about sex when I'm with you, it's–" Y/n wrapped her hand around his shaft, feeling the veins against the palm of her hand. "–it's just that we're in the shower and you look so fucking pretty, angel."

Harry tilted his head back as Y/n slowly began tugging his cock, rubbing the head for a few seconds before going south to give his balls some attention. "So good– just like that, fuck."

"Feeling good? I need to treat my man right, gonna give you everything you need, H" Y/n whispered in his ear, picking up the pace of her hand.

"Yeah, your man‐ oh god – your cock to, only yours," he moaned, closing his eyes. Harry was too immersed in the feeling, he was barely holding himself together, so he placed one hand on the wall to get more balance.

"Only mine, all the world wants you, but you come crawling to me every day," Y/n smugly said, feeling Harry’s cock becoming more rigid.

He was close.

"Baby– I'm gonna cum," he whined, moving his hips and thrusting against her hand. "So so close."

"Go on baby, make a mess, you are the one cleaning me up afterward anyway." Y/n bit his neck as she moved her hand, jerking Harry off, in less than a second the man was moaning loudly, his strikes of cum messing with her hand, his stomach, and the wall in front of them.

"Shh, just like that," Y/n continued masturbating Harry until he asked her to stop.

She took her hand off of him and hugged him from behind and he pressed his head against the wall, trying to catch his breath. Y/n squeezed her cheek on his muscular back, hearing his heartbeat coming down.

"You ok, baby?" Y/n asked, leaving a trail of kisses on his back, trying to make him relax.

"You were the one anxious, I should be in your position right now," Harry said, taking her hand and putting it underwater and he took the soap, cleaning her from his cum. When he was done, he took his own loofah to clean his stomach, but before he could start Y/n took the loofah from him, rubbing it on his belly and cleaning his body up. "Thank you," Harry said, letting her clean him in whatever way she wanted.

"You clean me, I clean you," she said sweetly. "And we don't have any positions here, you don't owe me sex just because I was anxious or stressed."

Harry held Y/n's hip, looking at her. "I know I don’t own you, but I really wanna fuck you right now." He said shamelessly, making a big contrast with how he was acting moments ago. "Gonna let me?" He could see the desire on her face, she wanted him as much as he did.

Y/n nodded, bringing her body closer to him and letting the loofah fall to the ground.

"Words, pretty girl, I wanna hear you say it." With a hand on her lower back, he pulled her against her body, pressing his hard cock on her thigh.

"Yes, please," Y/n tried to touch his cock, but Harry held her arm, not letting her move.

"I think you had your fun, now it's my turn, yeah? Turn around, belly on the wall, legs spread."

Fire starts to burn on the girl's body, the last time they had sex was yesterday, but it never felt like it was enough when she was with Harry, she craved his body all the time, and by the way, he was acting, he felt the same desire she did.

She turned around, pressing her chest to the wall, keeping her legs apart. Harry stood behind her, he pulled her hips so he could have easier access and she could have more balance.

"You look so beautiful like that," Harry was watching her, the way her ass and thighs were wet with water made his cock harder. He brought his right hand to her pussy, spreading her open before slowly entering her with a finger, just one, making sure she was ready to take him.

"So wet already, my poor thing, have you been this needy for how long?" He asked in a condescending tone. "Answer me, baby."

"Jerking you off turned me on, you know I like it," she answered bluntly, feeling eager.

Harry took the showerhead and pointed at his own skin, making sure the pressure wasn’t uncomfortable. "Always been a slut for my cock, you just can't help yourself." He turned the showerhead in her direction, placing it between her thighs so the water was hitting her clit.

"H–oh my god," she moaned, trying to hold onto something for support. Harry saw she was struggling to stay up, so he let her hold to his arms as he played with the water on her clit.

They usually didn't use the showerhead together, if Y/n did use it, it was normally when Harry was away, or she was taking her morning shower and wanted to get off quickly so she could go to work. Even though Harry wasn't much experience with it, he was sure he was at least doing an ok job, since Y/n's legs were already shaking, and her nails were digging into his skin.

"Right there, fuck–" Y/n was fighting her body, not wanting to release any time soon, but the water was hitting at the most perfect place, the pleasure was great, and the temperature was lukewarm.

Harry's strong presence was also making her see stars, the way he was just standing behind her making sure she got all the pleasure made her want to sink to her knees for him.

"Am I treating you well?" Harry whispered in her ear, coming closer and pressing his chest on her back, his right hand was holding the shower head as the left o held her hip bone, keeping her in place. "My baby deserves to relax a little, you’re too tense lately."

"I'm not too tense, ju-just tired from all the traveling," Y/n confessed. At this point, she didn't know if the water in between her thighs came from the showerhead or from her own body.

"Just a few more shows and we'll go home." Harry teased her neck with his teeth. "I'm gonna fuck you in every corner of our house, I’m going to lock us there so no one can bother us, just you and me."

"But if you want that to happen you need to cum for me now, alright? Cum for me, be my best girl." The luscious words spilling from his mouth were enough to make Y/n reach her high.

Her knees began to buckle as waves of pleasure ran through her body, making Y/n roll her eyes and moan the loudest she ever did.

Y/n wasn't sure what happened next, the next time she felt conscious she was pressed to Harry’s chest, his lips on her forehead, and no showerhead was in contact with her body anymore. She realized she was only standing because Harry was holding her.

"You ok, love? Very intense, huh?" He asked, smiling tenderly at her, his hand was on her back, stroking the skin.

"Y‐yeah, it was very good," she mumbled, trying to catch her breath. "We need to use the showerhead more often"

"We really do." Harry laughed. "Now let’s finish our shower, ok?"

She looked at him. "But I want you," Y/n confessed, feeling embarrassed to say she actually wanted to be fucked.

Harry stroked her cheek with his thumb. "I know baby, I want you too, but you can barely stand on your own, so you might fall if I fuck you here."

Y/n loved his dirty mouth so fucking much.

"I'll have you when we're done here, now let’s clean up," he continued, rubbing her body with her loofah.

They spent 5 more minutes in the shower before they left, towels wrapped around their wet body. Y/n was heading to the bathroom, but Harry held her upper arm, making her turn around. "What, H? Let's go to bed, we don't have much time."

"I know, we need to be quick, but I want to fuck you here," he gently pulled her body, making her stand in front of him in a way both of them were in front of the big bathroom sink, the large mirror reflection their faces. Harry was behind her, his hand tugging at her towel until it fell to the floor.

"Just how I like," he whispered, leaving kisses all over her neck, his hand met her breast, playing with her nipple as his other hand touched her cunt, feeling the wetness spreading around on his finger. "My gorgeous girl, so ready for me."

"Just for you," she moaned, moving her hips and trying to create some friction with his finger. "Need you, H."

Harry kissed her head, pulling her hips to his body so she was bent over on the sink, her arms holding her upper body. "Gonna give you what you need, gonna treat you nicely." Harry caressed her back as he made eye contact with Y/n through the mirror.

He quickly tugged at his towel, so he was completely naked, his hard cock hitting Y/n’s backside. Without losing a second Harry wrapped his hand around his throbbing com and placed it on her hole, teasing the girl and himself.

"If we didn’t have to go down for lunch in 15 minutes, I would fuck you until you wouldn't be able to walk, sweetheart," Harry said as he entered her in one go, feeling the head of his cock hitting her cervix, her tight walls contracting around him.

"But I'm a good boyfriend, so I’ll be nice to you." He began thrusting inside her at an even pace, his hand grabbing her love handles, which helped him with the rhythm.

"Fuck, Harry," Y/n moaned, her cheek pressed on the cold bathroom counter as Harry moved, fucking her from behind with deep thrusts. "You're so big."

"Yeah? Like my cock, baby?" He placed his hand on her neck, keeping her in place.

"So much, I love it." Y/n fingers were holding to the counter for dear life. With the pace Harra was working in and out of, she would quickly get hurt if she didn’t have any place to hold on to.

"Good, because it's yours, all for you," Harry breathed. "Just like this cunt is mine, right?"

"Of course, I'm all yours," Y/n rolled her eyes as Harry found her G spot. "There, don't stop, please."

"Won't stop, fuck, feels so good, baby." He was pounding with hips faster now, wanting for the girl to cum first. "Look at me, c'mon," he said as the girl took her face off the counter, looking at him through the mirror.

"Just like that, look at me while I fuck you, I want this image printed in your brain until it is the only thing you can think of." Harry held her hips with one hand as the other one was placed on her mouth. "Suck them, get them nice and wet for me." He simply said, smiling as she did obediently what he asked.

Her tongue was twirling around his fingers, sucking on them until her cheeks were narrowed. She was so close, every slamming of his hips brought her closer to the edge, sometimes Y/n thought his cock was fucking magic.

"Good girl," He bent his own body so he could get closer to her. Harry took his fingers off her mouth, placing them right on her clit since Y/n couldn't orgasm only from penetrative sex.

He watched her face filled with pleasure as he tried his hardest to keep a good pace with his hips and fingers. "I love having you all to myself, you are a fucking dream baby," Harry said, feeling his orgasm nearby.

"H, I'm gonna cum, I'm so so close," Y/n whined, moving her body along with Harry.

"You can cum baby, I'll hold you, c'mon, drench my cock," he worked fast on her clit, and without any more warning she cummed, her wetness soaking the inside of her thighs as the warm feeling of release filled her body.

"You look so pretty when you cum," Harry mumbled, slamming against her, filling his ball tightening with need, before he realized he was cumming inside of her, his semen coating her walls.

He lazily moved his hips too many times, making sure she had milked him dry. "Baby, this was amazing," he said, eyes closed as he caressed Y/n's skin. "Feeling good? Was I good to you?"

"You always are, but this position it's getting uncomfortable." The girl smiled as Harry carefully pulled out of her and helped her stand straight. He wrapped his arms around her, placing them on her stomach as he kissed her shoulder.

"I'm sorry, I didn’t know it was uncomfortable, I love you." He moved his lips to her cheeks. "Let me clean you up, stay here."

He turned around and took some toilet paper sheets, kneeling in front of her. "Open, baby, I’m gonna be quick, I promise."

Y/n did what he asked and felt as Harry tenderly cleaned the mess in between her thighs, loving the way he was so gentle about it. He kissed her navel before getting back on his two feet and cleaning his cock. The man threw the paper in the bin and picked up their towels from the floor.

"Let me help you with this, love," he said, taking Y/n's soft towel and helping her wrap it around her body. "Why don't you go lay in bed while I organize things here?" He suggested.

Y/n looked around, yeah, the bathroom was very messy, with their hair and face products thrown on the bathroom counter and the shower area filled with empty shampoo bottles. "I can help you, it's ok."

He held her arm gently, guiding her out of the bathroom. "Your legs are a bit shaky, and I don’t want you doing any work, so just stay here and relax for a moment, ok, my beautiful girl."

Harry knew he won her over the beautiful girl.

Smart bastard.

"Ok, but don't take too long, we have lunch with your mom," Y/n told him, placing her head on the pillow, she wasn't going to sleep, she actually just wanted to rest a bit, Harry really tired her out, but she loved every second of it.

"Don't worry about it, I'm gonna text her and say we're gonna be 20 minutes late, so you can rest," Harry kissed her forehead and left the room.

Maybe she could nap a little bit.

"I'll see you at the show, mom!" Harry said as the elevator stopped at the floor Anne was staying at the hotel.

"I can meet you here so we can leave together, Anne, since Harry has to leave earlier than us," Y/n told Anne, who was wearing a lovely blue dress.

They had finished getting lunch at the Hotel's restaurant and were heading back to their rooms. The lunch was lovely, after a long time Harry finally had the opportunity to see Anne, and the older woman was more than excited to watch Harry performing the whole Fine Line album for the first time.

Unfortunately, Harry couldn't spend all of his days with Y/n and Anne because he had 2 hours of rehearsal. He had invited them to watch him rehearse with the band, but Anne said she wanted a surprise for her, and Y/n wanted to make company for her mother-in-law, so she also decided to stay at the Hotel.

"Ok honey, I'll be waiting for you, just give me a call when the car gets here, please," Anne kissed Y/n on the cheek. "And you, my star boy, be careful around the stage with all those wires, I love you." She hugged Harry tenderly. "Don't forget to take some snacks too, and please don't eat burning soup, I know you have this tendency but–"

"Mom, please, you don't need to worry about that," Harry laughed. "Y/n bought some chips for me and the band, and the safety team is very professional, they always make sure every electrical device is safe, only focus on tonight's show."

"I will always worry about you." Harry could see how much she missed him, he could barely stay a day without face timing his mom, so actually having her here was making him quite emotional.

"I don't wanna keep you here, I know you need to work soon, have a good day, baby, and you too, darling." With that they said their goodbyes, watching as Anne turned right, heading to her room.

Y/n learned of Harry's body as the elevator went up, taking them to their floor. "Your mum is really proud of you, H," Y/n said, taking Harry’s finger and intertwining it with her own. "I am too, you have three sold-out shows at The Forum, that's such a big thing."

The elevator opened and the couple left the small cubicle, walking to the only door on the floor. Harry pressed his hotel card and the door opened. They were met with their cozy room, which Harry had organized while Y/n took a 15-minute nap.

"You are stroking my ego, love," Harry said in a playful tone, but Y/n knew playing at this arena was a big deal to Harry.

Y/n noticed they were close to the bed, so pulled his and her body to the mattress, the two of them falling on the soft material. "I'm serious, it's gratifying seeing how far you got, how you reached a solid fan base with your songs, with just being yourself, you deserve everything you have right now." She packed his lips, not commenting on how red his cheeks were.

"Thank you, my love." Harry loved praise, but when they were about something deeper or meaningful, he often got shy. "It's very impactful to see how much my life changed. First one direction, then HS1, Fine Line, the US tour, Pleasing, the movies"

Y/n laid on the bed, Harry followed her, placing his head on her tummy as she stroked his curls, listening carefully to every word he said. "Sometimes I think that I might not be rightful of all of that." He confessed. " I look back and see everything me, my team, and family went through just so I'll be able to perform and do what I love, and I think that I'm so grateful for every single one of them."

"That's why your fans, and practically everyone who meets you, have something nice to say about your personality, baby." She began to do small brains on his hair, ones that should be gone in less than a minute. "You are always working to be a better artist, and you never forget where you belong."

"Did you just quote One direction?" He asked laughing, looking up at her.

"I mean, some lyrics were very deep, good ones to use in a conversation like this one."

"I'm glad to know the song you like is the one I did not help writing." He pushed the fabric of her t-shirt up so he could have free access to her skin. "But it's ok, it is a good song."

"Oh, I forgot to tell you, but I got an email today from the director of My Policeman," he placed his shoulder on the mattress, one on each side of her body. "They said we'll have to re-shoot some scenes–"

"Oh really? When–"

"–During our Christmas break," he said in one go, knowing damn well Y/n would get upset, and he was right, the roll of her eyes came faster than a heartbeat. "It will probably take 2 weeks maximum."

"Harry." Was the only thing Y/n said, not wanting to be near him. "You promised me we could be alone– no work, no nothing– after you finished the US leg!"

"I know, and I'm sorry for breaking my promise, but I just need you to listen to me for a few seconds, ok?" Harry was serious, he really wasn't in the mood for any arguments, and he also didn’t want to upset Y/n in any way. "When we finished shooting the movie, they said everything was ok, but there was some problem with the scenario in some outdoor scenes."

"It will only take 2 weeks to re-shoot, and I'll be in London, so we can still see each other." He gently pecked her lips, glad that she didn't push him away.

"I miss being with you and only you, H" Y/n mumbled. "I know I'm being childish right now, especially after our talk about your professional life." Y/n cursed herself, she shouldn't let her sadness turn into anger, most important of all, not towards Harry since he was doing nothing wrong.

"You aren’t being childish, I would feel disappointed if I were in your position too, I'm sorry for making a promise it wasn't 100% up to me to keep it," he hugged her, hiding his face on her neck. "I love you, I'm sure we will still have an amazing holiday, ok? We're gonna stay at my mom's after the re-shooting is over, and come back to California if you want."

"I love you too, baby," she caressed his back. "Yeah, I like California, but I also love Japan. We could go there too, for New Year's Eve or something."

"Whatever you choose darling."

The couple spent 10 minutes just laying down, Harry talked about the show and Pleasing’s launch while Y/n stroked his hair. When it was 5:00 pm Harry gave her a peck on the lips and got up from the bed, going straight to his suitcase, he took a simple black hoodie and sweatpants and changed from his old clothes.

While Harry got ready Y/n decided to get some work done, she got her laptop and started answering emails and making some phone calls. Y/n worked with Jeff at the administration part of the Azoff company, it was very stressful, but she absolutely loved it, especially because she could work on her laptop while being in any country in the world.

Y/n was too focused on her work to notice that Harry was ready to leave, so the mas went to her side of the bed, trying to catch her attention. "Hey miss boss, I'm leaving now." He said a bag on his shoulder.

"You know I'm not anyone's boss." She put her laptop to the side and got on her knees on the bed, standing the same height as Harry.

He wrapped his arms around her. "Well, you are my boss, my favorite one, actually."

"Yeah? Good, because you are my favorite rockstar, so we're even." Y/n softly kissed Harry, slipping her tongue inside his mouth.

Harry bit her lips but stopped his movements. "I'm gonna be late," he whispered against her mouth.

"No good luck sex?"

"No good luck sex, unfortunately," he took a step back to look at her face. "But we gonna have some the-show-was-awesome sex, alright?"

"Ok, yeah, that's good," Y/n left the bed and walked to their mini-bar, taking two sandwiches, which were wrapped in plastic. "I made those while you were getting ready, please don't forget to eat them, or else your mom will be mad at me."

Harry accepted the sandwiches, smiling at her. "She could never be mad at you, you know that."

"Yes, I do, but I still want to make sure her son is well fed."

"You are very silly." Harry put his shoes on and took his phone. "The car is already there, I'll see you at the show, if you get there half an hour earlier, we can meet backstage and I can show mom around."

"Alright, I’ll talk to her so we can leave the hotel earlier, I'm sure she'll love to see behind the scenes." They walked to their hotel room's door. "And I'll love to spend some time with you and the band before the show."

"Of course, you will, my little lucky charm, aren't you?" He pecked her lips, opening the door.

"Bye, be safe, and let me know when you get there! I'm gonna have some work done and then get ready." Y/n told him.

"I'll let you know, and don't worry about me, please don't get too stressed about your work."

"I'm gonna try," she watched as Harry walked to the elevator, blowing her a kiss. "I love you."

"Love you too, my baby," Harry waved at her before disappearing into the elevator.

Y/n turned around and closed the door, being met with an empty room, she got back on the bed. Those emails weren't going to answer themselves.

Y/n and Anne were watching as Harry sang Kiwi, the last song of the night. They were in the private pit with Jeff enjoying themselves and celebrating that Anne was there with them. Harry, not so subtle, stopped the show to make a special greeting to Anne and blow a kiss to Y/n.

Tonight, the fans were amazing, some of them stopped at the private pit to wave and said how beautiful Y/n looked. The girl got shy, she still wasn't used to all the attention, but she was happy that the fans were kind and chill.

When Harry did the whale and finished the show, a security man was there to escort Anne, Y/n, and Jeff, making sure they got backstage. Jeff excused himself to talk to Glenda through the phone, while Anne and Y/n went looking for Harry. They found him in less than 5 minutes, he was shirtless, drinking a bottle of water while chatting with the staff. When Harry saw them, he quickly excused himself and walked in the women's direction.

He kissed Anne on the cheek and Y/n on the lips. "Did you enjoy it? What did you think mom?"

Anne hugged Harry and unexpectedly began to cry. "You looked amazing, son, I'm so proud of you, I wish all of our family could come to watch you."

"Mom, don't cry, you're here now, that's all that matters.

"I know, I know, this is a happy moment, I'm sorry." She cleaned her tears. "But you truly looked amazing, I missed watching you sing."

"I miss you too, mum, so much," Harry kissed her head. "I need to go change, it will be quick, if you guys need to go to the bathroom or want to eat something just ask Michael." Harry pointed at an older man with a gentle face. "He knows around and can help you."

"Ok, we'll wait for you, baby" Y/n said. "We're going straight to the hotel, right?"

"Yes, unless you guys have other plans," Harry answered, looking at Anne.

"I have no other plans, I really want to go to bed," Anne laughed.

"Good things we are on the same page, mom " Harry turned his head to Y/n and winked at her. "I'll be right back."

With that, he turned to the other hallway to get change and take his bag. Y/n's eyes were following Harry's every move, watching his strong back and muscular abdomen.

She couldn't wait to get to the hotel.

The first thing Harry did when they got back to their hotel room was press Y/n against the wall, kissing her hungrily as softly pulled Harry’s head. "You have no idea how hot you look in this dress," he said in her ear, hiking her dress up so he could place his hand on her ass. "When I sang medicine tonight, I couldn't take my eyes off of you."

"I noticed, it was very obvious." Harry pulled her hair, which gave more access to her neck. "I couldn’t take my eyes off of you either, especially from your chest and abdomen," she gasped as his lips met her neck and shoulder.

"Yeah, you like it?" He took her hand and placed it under his shirt, right on his belly, the place where he tattooed the butterfly. "Touch it, it's yours."

Y/n rake her nails across his skin, not enough to bruise, but enough to give Harry the exact amount of pain he enjoyed it. Harry squeezed her ass, bringing her closer. "You look gorgeous, I'm so lucky to have you." He mumbled, kissing her neck. "What do you wanna do, tell me."

The girl was silent for a few seconds, thinking of what she wanted, when her hands stopped firm at his abdomen, she knew exactly what she was going to say. "I wanna ride your belly, right on the butterfly."

Harry raised his eyebrows, not expecting that. "Yeah? Wanna ride me? Let's go, I'm going to give you what you want." Harry eagerly pulled her arm, walking to the bed. Without waiting for a second, he fell to the mattress on his back, taking off his clothes, laying naked.

Y/n go to the bed on her knees and Harry pulled her dress off her body. Harry took some time to enjoy the view of Y/n's breasts, but the girl was also impatient. She quickly threw her underwear on the floor, and she straddled Harry’s abdomen, her wetness making direct contact with his skin.

Harry held her hips with one hand as the other one played with her nipple, making the girl moan and slowly start to rock against him. The man helped her dictate the rhythm, Harry wanted to feel in control today, and Y/n was glad to give him that.

"My pretty angel," he said, watching Y/n, she truly pooled celestial like that. "You're making a mess on my belly, you're gonna need to clean it later with your mouth."

"I'm gonna do whatever you want, H." She focused on rubbing her clit using circular movements.

"I know you will, my good girl." Harry took his hand off her breasts and wrapped it around his hard cock, which was standing tall against the girl's back.

He tugged at it, moaning as the pleasure started to fill his body, he teased the slit with his thumb, feeling it wet with pre-cum. Harry looked at Y/n, the girl had her eyes closed, concentrating on riding him, as soft breasts were moving with each of her movements.

Harry used the sight above him to touch himself, tightening his hand around his cock, moving it up and down slowly since he didn't want to cum too soon.

"You have no idea how good you look right now," he said, helping her move her hip when she lost her rhythm. "Don't be lazy, baby, you need to move too."

"It's hard, I wanna cum." Y/n placed her hand across his chest.

"If you wanna cum you need to work for it a bit, alright?" She looked at him with a pout on her face, which made Harry roll his eyes. "Ok you brat, stay there looking pretty while I do everything." Y/n smiled as she could finally stop moving, instead, Harry placed both hands on her hips, making her rock against him as the girl just enjoyed the amazing feeling.

Harry wasn't really upset or mad, he loved spoiling her, especially when they were having sex. She deserved everything good in the world, so Harry was going to give her that.

"It feels so good, H," she said, digging her nails into Harry’s chest, right on the birds.

"Good baby, that's how you should always be feeling." Harry was struggling a lot not being able to touch his cock, but the Pleasing look on Y/n's face was worth it.

"I'm close, so close," Y/n whined, feeling the familiar warm feeling taking over her body little by little.

"Good, drench me, go on." Harry picked up the pace with his hands, rocking her body fast wanting to watch her come undone.

He smiled when he saw Y/n's face opening up and her thighs shaking. Harry loved watching her cum, he loved knowing he was the one who gave her all this pleasure. He continued moving her hips, but this time he was gentler, not wanting to overstimulate her.

If it wasn't for the two hands holding her, Harry was sure Y/n would fall right to his body, her legs and arms went limp, and her breathing was heavy. Harry took her hand, which was splayed over his chest, and held them together, taking them over his head, making Y/n lay down on his chest with each arm around Harry's neck.

Harry took his hands off her hips and hugged her, kissing her head. "Did so good, baby," he whispered. "I love you so much."

"I love you too," she mumbled, eyes heavy. "I know you're hard, just give me a minute."

Harry smiled. "Don't worry about that, we don't have to do anything if you are feeling tired, let's just relax."

Y/n dismissed what he said, she was totally in the mood, she just needed some time to breathe and wait until her legs were less shaky. Harry caressed her back as she calmed down, he didn’t say a word, just gave her tender touches.

As promised, after a few minutes, Y/n was back at it again, she gave sloppy kisses across Harry’s jaw, trailing kissing across his chest and belly. She cleaned his butterfly tattoo with her tongue, tasting her wetness as she went south close to his cock. It was hard and oozing pre-cum, the poor man was desperate to feel her.

She held his throbbing cock with her right hand as her lips sucked at her head, tasting the salty taste of his skin, she twirled her tongue around the slip, feeling Harry bucking his hips keenly.

Y/n took more of him in her mouth, feeling his cock hitting her throat, she hollowed her cheeks and began moving her head up and down.

"Fuck baby," Harry moaned, placing a hand on her neck, legs shaking as she started to play with his ball. "So, fucking good."

She scraped her teeth on his shaft, loving his reaction, the girl continued with her movements until Harry pulled her up by his hand, which made the girl upset. "What happened? I want it in my mouth."

"I know, but I want to fuck you, can I do that?" He cleaned her lips from the pre-cum, placing his thumb on her tongue so she could clean his thumb.

"Yes, please," she said, nodding, taking his thumb out of her mouth. "I want you on top, please."

Harry smiled. "Of course, you do." He quickly turned them around, making sure Y/n was comfortable on the bed before starting to kiss her collarbone. "Your skin tastes delightful."

"I would take my time with you, but not today, I want to feel your cunt on my cock now," he shamelessly said, taking his cock and sliding inside her easily. "So, fucking wet and thigh." He moaned as Y/n rolled her eyes, finally filling full.

"You're so big, fuck." Harry placed his head on her shoulder, and he moved his hips, bottom out of her stilling for a few seconds, and begin moving again.

His head was on her love handles, moving Y/n with his as he quickly fucked her. He bent his head closer to her, biting her lips as they touched their tongue together, enjoying each other’s taste. "So lovely you are." He murmured pounding into her, feeling completely needy for her body.

"Best cunt in the world, always ready for me," He placed his hand on the mattress as he moved, the headboard hitting the wall with every slamming of his body. "I worshiped the ground you stepped on, my darling, you got me wrapped in your pinky."

"I love it when you talk like that to me," she placed her hand on his muscular back, bringing her chest closer until she could feel his heartbeat beating alongside hers.

"Just telling you the truth, angel," Harry smooth took one pillow from the mattress and placed it under Y/n's back, all of that without stopping thrusting into her, now he could fuck her deeper. "I'm all yours, just like you're mine."

"My soulmate, that's what you are," he continued fucking Y/n, but now the feeling in his chest was much more than pure desire, he was feeling passion, almost drunk on it.

He placed his hand on her clit, rubbing it gently. "I need you to cum with me, I'm almost there." He was going to cum earlier than normal, but the blowjob she gave him almost made him spill.

"I'm almost there, please," she moved her hips with him, feeling his cook right on her G spot. "There, right there–fuck."

"Feels so good, so warm," Harry slammed his hips needly, feeling his orgasm close. "Need you to cum first, please."

"I'm going–oh, there," Y/n bit back her moan as Harry's lips attached to her nipple, sucking at it keenly.

The wave of pleasure crushed her body unexpectedly, making her thigh her walls against Harry and her eyes roll. She wrapped her legs around Harry's hips as he pounded into her, following her in her orgasm moments after. Harry released came in spurts, filling her up as both of them reached their high.

Harry rested his chin on her shoulder, breathing her in, trying to calm his body and mind. He soothed her upper arm and kissed her cheek. "How are you feeling, baby?" He asked, eyes still closed. "Are you hurt anywhere? Did I grab your hips too tightly?"

"No, I'm ok, just– wow," she said, making Harry smile. "I'm tired though."

"Yeah? Ok, let me clean you and I'll help you get ready for bed," when he was about to pull out, she placed her hand on his lower back, not letting him.

He looked down at her, confused. "I want you inside, don't go, please."

Her soft tone made Harry's heart warm. "I need to clean you and get you some food, baby," he stroked her cheek with his thumb. "But when we get ready for bed, we can cockwarm until you fall asleep, how does that sound?"

"I don't wanna be alone," Y/n said with a sad tone.

"You aren't going to be alone, we're in the same room, I'll just go get some tissues, you'll be able to see me from here," Harry explained, he always tried to be gentle with her, especially after sex.

He kissed her forehead. "I'll be right back, you won't even miss me."

"Yes, I will,' Y/n told him, watching as he got up from the mattress, putting his boxers on before heading to the bathroom, coming back moments later with a box of baby wipes.

He got on the mattress again, placing his warm hands on her thighs. "Open your legs for me, please? Let me take care of you, yeah?"

Y/n didn't fight him on that, slowly spreading her legs and feeling the soft cotton material on her skin, cleaning her thighs and in between her legs. Harry was very tender, not rubbing it harshly, instead, his hands felt like feathers. "I wanna eat chocolate," Y/n mumbled as Harry finished cleaning her up, putting the used wipes in the bin.

"Chocolate? Ok, I think we have some here." He walked to their suitcase, taking her pajama top and helping her dress herself, her lower body still bare

"Lift your arm– yeah, thank you." Harry went to the freezer, taking some chocolate, a cereal bar, and a bottle of water, feeding her and making sure she drank half the bottle.

Y/n was very soft, doing everything he asked without complaining, normally she would act a bit bratty during aftercare, but not today.

When they were done, Y/n looked up to Harry with her doe eyes. "Can we cockwarm now?"

Harry smiled. "Yes, of course, get on your side while I put all of this away." He said, mentioning the food.

Y/n did what he asked as Harry put the leftover in the fridge. He came back and took off his boxers, being naked again, he laid down by Y/n's side, spooning her.

The man jerked his cock for a few seconds, getting it hard. "Can I, baby?" He asked.

"Yes, please." The girl snuggled to his body as Harry entered her, completely bottom out.

"Now you can sleep, c'mon, close your eyes," he whispered, kissing the back of her head and watching as she drifted to sleep. "I love you, sleep well."

Tag list: @elenagilbert01 @bellelittleoff @sunflowervolume66 , @evanjh @beachwood-cafe @spencharry @everythingharryy @lollypopsx @imavirginhoe @onlyamylee ,@watermelonlovershigh @finelinevogue @captain-crystalrosie @goldnn-harry @ayeshathestyles @0oolookitsme @peaceandloverry @poguestyleskye @cherrystylinston @academiaghosts @lovleyeverafter (I can’t tag u) @umadirectioner @vanteguccir @handsomerry @futuristicpalacegardenpsychic @swiftmendeshoran @fanfictionandfluff

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles blurb #harry styles writings #harry syles smut #harry styles x reader

731 notes · View notes

bi-bard · 2 years

Text

The List - Kelly Severide Imagine (Chicago Fire)

Title: The List

Pairing: Kelly Severide X Reader

Requested: nope

Word Count: 642 words

Warning(s): cussing, argument, mention of sex (it's just one joke)

Summary: (Inspired by "The 10 Things I Hate About You" by Leah Kate) When you're working with an ex, things can get complicated. When that ex is Kelly Severide, you may need to be reminded of why you two definitely didn't work.

Author's Note: I heard this song and immediately thought of Kelly. I just loved the idea.

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It was a spur-of-the-moment thing.

I was sitting in my car after I got home. I had been sitting there for twenty minutes, wallowing in self-pity and consistently overthinking.

I hadn't truly considered the difficulty of working with Kelly after everything that went down between the two of us.

When we were actually on a call, it was easy enough. The focus was on the task at hand. No time to worry about personal drama when you're saving someone.

However, when we were waiting between calls, it was difficult to keep my composure. I wouldn't have much more to do than think about everything that had happened. Had I said the right thing? Did I end things at the right time? Overthinking had just become par for the course.

The only time that the overthinking was worse than that downtime was when I was on my own.

So, after twenty minutes of hating every thought to cross my brain, I snagged my small notebook out of my bag. I scribbled down a quick list of every bad trait I could think of. Every element that made me consider leaving in the first place. Once it was done, I threw it back into the side pocket of my bag without a second thought.

The list gave me enough of a cushion to sleep through the night. For the first time in a long time, I was able to push away those thoughts for just a short amount of time.

When I got back to work the next day, I didn't think to clear out my bag. I had pretty much forgotten that the list had existed.

I was just leaving the lockers after dropping off my stuff when my arm was grabbed.

My instinct was to swing, but the person who grabbed me moved back just enough to avoid the hit.

Kelly.

I clenched my jaw at the sight of him.

"We need to talk," Kelly said simply before dragging me down the hall.

I yanked my arm away from him, "You don't get to drag me around like a toddler having a tantrum."

"And you don't get to write little notes about me for other people to read," he waved my journal in front of my face.

I snatched it from him immediately, "Where the hell did you find this?"

"It was in the middle of the hall," he replied. "For anyone to find your stupid little list."

"Why are you acting like I planted it there," I asked.

"Because I know you'll do anything to badmouth me and keep your perfect reputation up," Kelly crossed his arms over his chest, glaring at me.

"Kelly," I scoffed. "You are the only person who knows I have this. It doesn't have my name on it. That list doesn't have any indication that it's about you. It's just a scribbled list that would be nonsense to anyone else."

Kelly didn't respond.

"It says a shit ton about you that you recognized who this list was about," I shrugged. "Especially that part about your... endurance."

More silence. The Kelly Special: shut down as soon as you realize you're wrong.

"I'm not trying to 'badmouth' you, Kelly. I just don't want to feel like shit whenever I'm not on a call. That's what this list was for. I took a moment to let out my emotions in a pretty healthy way. I'm sorry that you saw it, but I didn't plant it to embarrass you like that."

When he didn't speak, I just sighed and turned around. All I could do now was continue my work and hope he would just let this go.

As I was walking away, Kelly finally decided to speak up, "I'm sorry."

I paused and turned to face him, "So am I."

However, we were both apologizing for very different things.

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Masterlist

What I Write For

Some Original Characters

folklore/evermore Writing Challenge (and Masterlist)

Maisie Peters - “You Signed Up for This” Writing Challenge Masterlist

#kelly severide imagine #kelly severide fanfiction #kelly severide x reader #fanfiction #imagine #x reader #chicago fire imagine #chicago fire x reader #chicago fire fanfiction

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cjsinkythoughts · 3 years

Text

Inner Conflict

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 3586

Warnings: !FATWS SPOILERS!, Cursing, Some Angst, Some Fluff, Sam and Bucky being idiots, Mentions of PTSD, Anxiety, and Depression

A/N: Here’s Part Three to my FATWS Series, which I’m making a masterlist for that you can find Here.

Uh…it’s a little long, and I apologize for that. It doesn’t even encompass the whole second episode, only the first half, so a Part 3.5 will be coming out later today probably (it’s my day off work so I have all day to relax and write!) I tried not doing a line for line rewrite of the episode, but there are quotes from the show in here. Mostly it’s Reader’s thoughts and feelings towards what’s happening while conversations are going on around. Reader’s backstory is a bit more unfurled. It’s more action packed and more scene-for-scene of the episode than the previous two. Less emotions shared and less hurt/comfort type of thing, but that’ll be back in the next part probably along with more scenes not in the show. The next part I’m planning won’t be as long, it’ll mainly just be the Couples Therapy scene and a bit more angst with her and Sam and her and Bucky.

Because there’s four more episodes and I don’t know what’s going to happen in them, I’m kinda hesitant on spilling out exactly what is going on with the Reader and what her role was on the original team, but we’ll get there. Also, I wasn’t expecting to be writing multiple pieces for one episode, but if the other episodes are as packed as this one, prepare yourself for more parts than anticipated. We’re already on Part 3 and I’ve got Part 3.5 coming. Just bare with me as I don’t know what’s going to happen in future episodes! Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy it!

(Not beta’d so excuse any mistakes.)

!SPOILERS UNDER CUT!

Walking out of the shower, ruffling a towel through your hair to dry it off, you froze at the sound of the TV. A sigh left your lips. It’s all he’d been doing the last few days - watching the news. Keeping up with the tour for the new Captain America.

You peeked out of the small bedroom to find Bucky sitting on the floor, brow creased as he watched John Walker talk to the Good Morning America hostess.

“You shouldn’t be watching that.” You spoke up, leaning on the doorway, still patting your hair dry. He glanced over to you, taking in the towel wrapped around you, before looking back at the TV. Seeing you like that wasn’t anything new. “Buck, I’m serious. Brooding over it won’t make anything better.”

“What do you want me to do?”

You let out a sigh, shifting your feet and biting your lip as you thought about how to respond. “I-I haven’t figured it out yet. But obsessing over the new guy-”

“Aren’t you mad?”

You frowned at his question, his eyes meeting yours once more. “I told you already that I am.”

He tilted his head, which he did when he was confused, his eyes narrowing. “Why don’t you show it? Why aren’t you screaming or cursing or crying or something? You, of all people-”

“Because it won’t help anything, Buck.” You shook your head, pushing off the wall. “I want to. But if I let myself go down that road…” Dropping your gaze to the floor, you take a breath, collecting your thoughts. “This is such a complicated situation, James. I’m being contacted left and right for a statement on the new Captain. People trying to see my reaction. Senators trying to get me to meet with him. I can’t let myself snap. I can’t.”

He scowled. “They’re still bothering you?”

A dry chuckle escaped your lips and you nodded. “Makes me miss the days when no one knew who I was; when I was the behind-the-scenes seventh Avenger. But I made that choice to come out, and I have to deal with the consequences now. Blowing up will only-”

“Even though I never met him…he feels like a brother.”

That one statement stopped you in your tracks. Bucky’s head whipped back to the TV, his jaw ticking, his nose scrunching up.

“Did he really just say that?”

Bucky merely nodded, his chest heaving as he tried getting his breathing under control. “Feel like snapping now?”

You purse your lips as you held in the tears stinging your eyes. After composing yourself, you moved over and grabbed the remote, letting out a tiny sniffle as you did so. You tentatively touched Bucky’s shoulder, silently asking him if he needed anything from you. His response was to open his arms, so you quickly got down besides him to hold him.

“He is my brother, doll.”

“I know, Buck.” You pressed a soft kiss to his head, which rested against your bare shoulder.

Your bare knees are pressed harshly against the wooden panels of the floor, and you’re twisted awkwardly, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. As long as he was comfortable, you would take the uncomfortable position. As long as he was being held, you would take the soreness it would leave. As long as you could help him be some sort of okay, you would take not being okay in this position.

You two sat like that for a few more moments before your phone buzzed. You gave a sigh, pulling back and holding his cheeks in either hand. He wasn’t crying, although he was on the verge of doing so. You’d seen him cry before, so you knew he didn’t mind. For you it was a different story.

Bucky had maybe seen you cry twice since the whole Blip thing went down. And one of them was over the phone, so he didn’t see it so much as he heard it. You didn’t let yourself cry in front of him. Or anyone, for that matter. It was a part of you. The only person you ever felt comfortable enough around to cry in front of…wasn’t there. And you couldn’t change that.

“We’ll figure it out.” You told him, nodding gently and letting a small, sad smile quirk the corners of your lips up. “Okay? We’ll figure it out.”

The clench in his jaw loosened as your fingers worked circles into the hinge, making him relax and nod back. You pressed a tender kiss to his forehead before standing up, moving across the room to where your phone was on the counter. You assumed it’d be another government official or news reporter, so you were slightly shocked to see ‘Sammy’ flashing up at you.

Your eyebrows furrowed as you read his message, a slight pout forming on your face.

“Doll?” Toned arms wrapped around you, warm and cool, his chin setting on your shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s Sam. He needs my help with something.”

“I’m coming with you.”

You turned in his arms, eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Why?”

He shrugged, licking his lips. “You might need help.”

“Bucky, you can’t go if you’re just going to yell at him.”

“I won’t.”

You studied his features. He was lying, you knew that. Of course he was going to snap at Sam for giving up the shield. He was mad and they got on each others’ nerves every chance they could find, so of course he was going to.

But you still found yourself saying yes and telling him to go pack a bag. You were never able to say no to Steve and it seemed that got passed on. What a nuisance it was.

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

And you were so right. It was the first thing he said once Sam came into view coming down the stairs.

“You shouldn’t have given up the shield, Sam.”

“James.” You squeezed the hand he was holding, voice pleading for him not to do this right now. He huffed, stepping back to let you greet Sam properly, giving the man a hug. “Hi, Sammy.”

“It’s been a while.” Sam commented, pulling back and holding you by the shoulders. “You look good. Not that you’ve ever looked otherwise.”

You gave him a small smile. “You do too.”

“Thanks for coming. I know it’s short notice, but-”

“It’s fine, Sam. Really.” You insist.

Sam nodded, before eyeing Bucky. “Did you have to bring him?”

“Samuel-”

“This is wrong.” Bucky cut in, staring Sam down, falling into step besides him as the man started heading outside.

“James-”

“Hey, hey. Look. I’m working, all right?”

You rolled your eyes as the two started arguing, stopping your stride to take a breather. You used to joke about babysitting them, but it didn’t feel like a joke anymore and you were getting tired of it. All the bickering for no reason. The contempt they held for one another. Steve made you promise that you would look out for them, and you were trying, but they weren’t making it easy.

When you joined them again, you raised an eyebrow at the direction the conversation turned. How the hell did they get from arguing about the shield to what a wizard is?

“Ahh! Haha! A sorcerer is a wizard without a hat!”

You gave Sam a look as he babbled about how he was right. “Sorcerer Mickey has a hat. Isn’t that, like, how he gets his powers and everything?”

Bucky grinned at you. “Thank you!”

“Excuse you!” Sam scoffed, pointing an accusing finger at you. “We were having a conversation!”

“Yeah. A stupid conversation I just ended. Now I’m gonna be in the plane. Feel free to join me when you’re done being idiots.”

They both spluttered, but you were already walking away, leaving no room for arguments. As you loaded onto the plane, you spotted the Lieutenant whom Sam mentioned who had been helping him out with missions. Torres, you thought, remembering his name from a previous phone call with your friend.

“You Lieutenant Torres?” You asked, walking up to him.

He blinked, before his eyes widened, a grin appearing on his face. He seemed young, which you were perfectly okay with considering you’ve been working alongside old men for the past decade. It was always nice to work with a fresh face, which you found after you started working with Wanda and Peter.

The thought of the two youngest members made you falter, not having heard from either of them since Christmas almost six months prior, but you quickly recovered yourself, shaking away the worries you had for them.

“You’re Y/N Y/L/N! I’m a huge fan! I’ve read all your files!”

Chuckling a little, you held out your hand. “Most of those are heavily classified.”

He ducked his head with a little blush, rubbing the back of his neck after shaking your hand. “I, uh, I might’ve…used connections.”

“It’s okay.” You reassured him, throwing him a wink. “I won’t tell. Can you tell me what’s going on? Sam didn’t exactly explain the situation.”

He nodded, getting into ‘work mode’, something you’ve seen in most military men, informing you of their recent missions and the group known as the Flag-Smashers and giving you a file on them. He was in the middle of telling you about his solo mission in Germany when your two fellas came in, sending each other small glares, but remaining quiet.

Bucky caught your eye and sent an apologetic look your way, to which you just smiled at before turning back to Torres.

“Well I’m glad you’re okay.” You told him once he was done.

“Oh yeah. It wasn’t that bad.”

You laughed and nodded. “I’m sure. You seem like a tough kid.”

He smiled, before looking around and jabbing his thumb behind his shoulder. “I-I’ve gotta go, but-”

“We can talk later.” You promised with a grin.

“Really?!”

“Of course! I have a feeling we’ll be working together more, and I like getting to know who’s gonna have my back.”

He beamed and nodded, walking backwards. “That’d be awesome! Talk to you later then!”

You giggled as he turned around and jogged off, pumping his fist in the air. You turned to a grinning Sam and nodded towards where Torres left. “I like him. Seems like a nice kid.”

“He is. Very energetic. A little reckless, but he’s got a good heart.”

You hummed, the smile falling from your face as you flipped through the file Torres gave you. “So…Munich?”

“Yeah. Listen, I’m sorry again for taking you away from the search, but-”

“Search is off.” You informed him quickly, not looking up. “Until further notice.”

The plane went quiet, before Sam cleared his throat. “So…no sign of Wanda yet, then?”

You shut the file, looking up at the men whose features were laced with concern. “I’m gonna go talk to the pilot. Behave while I’m gone. No pushing each other off the plane.”

“Doll?”

You were stopped by the hand that grabbed your wrist as you passed Bucky. You shot him another smile, knowing it wasn’t convincing enough for him, but it being the best one you had. “I’m okay. I’ve just gotta ask him some questions.”

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

Opening your mouth to stop him, you groaned when Bucky jumped out of the plane before you could speak. First Sam jumps without sharing the plan, then Bucky jumps without having a plan. Or a parachute. Or wings. Or anything.

Torres looked at you, but all you could do was shrug. “I dunno what to tell you, kid.”

“You’re not gonna do that, are you?”

“No.” You reassured him, shaking your head. “I’m gonna wait ‘til we land like a normal person and take my bike. I just have to pray that they’ll wait to do anything stupid until I get there.”

They didn’t wait. You’re pretty sure they didn’t even think about waiting. By the time you got to them, they were fighting - and losing, might you add - to six really strong people on top of two semi trucks.

Because why wouldn’t they?

Oh, oh. And on top of that, the fake was there, throwing the shield. The shield that didn’t belong to him. The shield that meant so much more than he would ever know.

“Hi, doll! Sorry we started the party without you!” Bucky shouted from where he was hanging off the edge, that close to the street and getting his head torn off by the tire.

“I’m so tired of babysitting you two, you know that?!”

“Oh! Sorry we’re such an inconvenience for you! Blame him! He jumped the gun!” Sam shouted, coming to fly next to you as you rolled up your sleeves, standing on your bike, using one hand to steer.

“Can I get a little help already?!”

“Sam-!”

“On it!”

Knowing that no matter how much they pissed each other off, Sam would make sure Bucky was okay and vice versa, you focused on getting to the top, where Walker and a buddy of his were struggling a little bit.

You climbed up to the roof of the semi no one was on, wincing when you heard your bike skidding across the pavement. There goes half your salary.

You couldn’t dwell on it for very long, considering one of the guys appeared in front of you. You recognized the fighting - the strength - and faltered, a memory resurfacing at a very bad time.

“C’mon, honey. You can do better than that.” Steve grinned at you, holding out a hand to help you up.

“Excuse me for not having super strength, Rogers.” You huffed out, taking it and letting him pull you up.

“You don’t need to be stronger than me. You just need to be smarter.”

“That’ll be easy.” You teased, stretching your arms before getting into your stance again. “You’re a dumbass sometimes.”

“Yeah, well, who chose to be friends with this dumbass?”

“Everyone needs a dumbass for a friend.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “So I’m your dumbass?”

“If you want.”

The grin he shot you made your heart skip a beat. “If you’ll have me.”

You blinked, but Steve wasn’t in front of you anymore and you weren’t in the gym in DC.

The guy caught the punch you distractedly threw and twisted your arm, making you cry out, kicking him in the back of the knee and flipping him over your shoulder.

You went to kick him again, but he caught your leg and threw you against the side of the other semi. You were able to grab onto where Bucky had ripped through the side, but you winced as the metal cut through your palm. Sam had just flown under the trucks, taking Buck with him, and you knew when a fight wasn’t worth it, so you quickly moved around the truck, letting Walker and his pal distract the Flag-Smashers, before letting yourself fall onto the side where the grass was.

You wanted to lay there, to catch your breath and curse yourself for getting distracted. You hadn’t had a flashback like that in a while. But you didn’t let yourself. You had to make sure the guys were okay.

Standing up made you cringe; you could feel the throbbing in your shoulder from where it was no doubt dislocated and your leg was aching, the muscle probably pulled when the guy threw you.

“Doll!” You turned, seeing Bucky and Sam sprinting towards you a few yards down the road. “Hey, hey.” Bucky immediately had his hands hovering over you, scanning your body. “Are you okay?”

You nodded, shoving his hands away. “I’m fine.”

“What’s wrong with your shoulder?”

“I think I dislocated it.”

Sam frowned. “What the hell happened?”

You gave him a weird look, starting to limp across the field to where you noticed a side road earlier. “They were super soldiers, Sam. And we got our asses kicked.”

“Yeah, but you know how to fight a super soldier-”

“It’s been a while.”

“Bullshit.” Sam side stepped in front of you, making you stop. “What happened?”

“I-I just got distracted, okay?”

“Y/N. Look at me.” Bucky took your face between his palms, eyes worried. “Are you okay?”

You nodded. A tired sigh left your lips and you looked anywhere but his eyes. “Yeah. I’m fine. Just hurting. My leg, I think I pulled it or something-”

“C’mere.” Bucky turned and crouched down, making you blink.

“What?”

“You shouldn’t be walking. We don’t wanna make it worse.”

“But it’s just a strain, it won’t-”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Just get on the man’s back, Y/N.”

You bit your lip before sighing and carefully climbing on his back. He shifted you gently, making sure to hold your leg with caution, leaning his head into yours when you hooked your chin on his shoulder. “You-you don’t have to talk about what happened. Just-just know that when you do…I’ll be here, okay?”

You nodded, moving to press your nose against the column of his throat. “Okay.”

But you could never tell them. How could you? How could you tell the world’s longest POW that you were having nightmares? How could you complain to an Air Force vet who served two tours in Afghanistan and watched his best friend get blown out of the air that you were having flashbacks?

You weren’t sure if it was PTSD or anxiety or depression. Maybe all three. It didn’t matter, though, because you didn’t want to admit it. You wouldn’t admit it. No one thought the Blip messed you up that badly. No one thought Steve leaving did that much damage. And you were okay with that. You were okay with them thinking you were healing - that you were fine - because they needed to see that it could be done. That they could be fine, too. Especially the men walking, Sam teasing Bucky per usual.

It wasn’t until a horn honked that you allowed yourself to be pulled out of your thoughts. A scoff left you when you realized who it was, switching the side you were laying on so your cheek pressed up against the cool metal of his left shoulder, facing away from the jeep.

You tried ignoring the guy as he talked about working together and shit, taking a shuddering breath, making Bucky squeeze your uninjured thigh. There was no way you were working with him. You couldn’t. It’d be like betraying Steve and you didn’t need that on top of all the other things you were dealing with.

You couldn’t deny the need for a ride though. The airport was 20 miles away and you were hurting pretty bad. You suspected that was the reason the guys relented, Bucky tenderly setting you down in the jeep between him and Sam, careful of your injuries.

You stared at your lap as Walker and Sam talked shop. You understood where they were coming from, you were always able to see both sides of the coin, but it didn’t mean you were going to willingly work with him.

“I got mad respect for all of y’all, but you were kind of getting your asses kicked till we showed up.”

You scoffed at that, finally raising your eyes to meet Walker’s friend’s. “Like you were doing any better?”

Bucky reached over to grab her hand that was resting on her lap. “You know, I’ve been trying to get in contact with you.” Walker faced you, eyes raking down your form. Bucky shifted in his spot, but you ran your thumb over his knuckles before he could do or say anything stupid.

“Yeah. I know. My phone hasn’t stopped blowing up for a week. Thanks for that, by the way.”

Walker frowned. “If you just answered-”

“I don’t care who you are. I don’t care what you’ve done. I’ve been a little busy doing my job to blow smoke up your ass on national television. Sorry if my saving people’s lives has been an inconvenience for you, but some wannabe playing dress up isn’t my top priority.”

Walker’s brows furrowed and he was about to say something, when Bucky cut in, asking his friend who he was. You were already that close to jumping out of the jeep, when the guy, Hoskins, told you three that he went by ‘Battlestar’.

If the situation wasn’t so aggravating, you would’ve laughed when Bucky immediately told the driver to stop, opening the door before the car even stopped. “C’mere, doll.” He murmured, lifting you up into his arms bridal style, before walking off, tuning out Walker as he shouted after you two.

You pouted a little when you saw Sam still talking to the guy. “What’re they talking about, Buck?”

“Some nonsense about him not replacing Steve. Just trying to be the best Captain America he can.”

You laid your head against Bucky’s chest. “The best Captain America is Steve. He can never be Steve.”

“I know, doll.”

“Steve told me once that all he was trying to do was be a good man…it’ll always amaze me that he didn’t see he was the best.”

You missed the distraught look Bucky shot towards you, the look in his eyes almost heartbroken while you talked fondly about his best friend. The tortured scrunch to his features seemed to melt away at your next words, though, and he held you tighter as you curled into his hold.

“Just like it amazes me that you don’t know how important you are to me too, Buckaroo.”

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octerminal · 3 years

Text

Avoiding the ME1 LI Romances

...And also what to do if you’ve already triggered them.

This is a post I’ve been wanting to remake forever, and with the remaster around the corner I thought now was a good time to finally get on it.

A few things first: I say “avoiding the ME1 LI romances”, but in reality this is mostly going to be about Kaidan and Ashley. While there are a few ways around Liara’s romance I’ve discovered, I have never been able to find a simple way to avoid triggering it. (I’ll get to that later.)

This post will be split into three sections: Kaidan, Ashley, and Liara. Kaidan and Ashley’s sections specifically will go over how to avoid triggering their romances entirely, and then the dialogue choices you need to take if you want to end the romance if it’s already been triggered. I have also included a few bonus things for the both of them, such as avoiding the flirting during the scenic view cutscene in the Citadel Wards. For Kaidan specifically, I have also included content about his mechanics in ME3.

Please note that most of these have been accomplished on console. I have gotten several PC users who do attest that, at the very least, Kaidan’s portion works for them. But on the off-chance that platform influences other parts of Kaidan’s, or Ashley and Liara’s, I thought it was worth mentioning. It should also be said that, obviously, these are all using the original games as a basis, though I am not expecting MELE to change any of this.

I will also be using both my Kaidan transcript and Ashley transcript as reference for their dialogue. I recommend following along there if you find Tumblr’s formatting confusing.

Final note before we begin: this post is not an open invitation to hate on any of these characters. ME1 is turning 14 this year and ME3 recently turned 9. Anything you have to say about these characters and their romance mechanics has already been beaten to death, brought back to life, and beaten to death again. No one wants to hear it, least of all me. Please keep your comments to yourself and be civil.

KAIDAN

“I WANT TO AVOID TRIGGERING IT ENTIRELY, WHAT DO I DO?”

Kaidan’s romance can be triggered after the first main mission has been completed. For many players, I imagine this is Therum, but it really doesn’t matter which mission it is.

Kaidan will prompt the conversation, as he will for every other post-main mission conversation so long as his romance remains active. This conversation will be about his time at Brain Camp. You can read the conversation in his transcript if you find it easier to follow along, though I have done my best to format this post as cleanly as possible.

KAIDAN: Commander, do you have a minute?

SHEPARD: (You can choose whatever dialogue option you want. It makes no difference yet.)

KAIDAN: Off the record, I think there’s something wrong here. This Saren is looking for records on some kind of galactic extinction, but we can’t get backup from the Council? Sorry, Commander. There’s writing on the wall here, but someone isn’t reading it.

SHEPARD: (Again, you may choose whatever dialogue option you want. It still makes no difference yet.)

>FIRST CHANCE TO AVOID THE ROMANCE<

KAIDAN: I hear ya. It - It just seems like a group that’s been around as long as the Council should see this coming. It’s funny. We finally get out here and the final frontier was already settled. And the residents don’t even seem impressed by the view...or the dangers.

SHEPARD (Renegade - Zip it, Lieutenant.): I’m sure your letters home are very poignant. Just keep this kind of sentimentality out of the CIC.

KAIDAN: Yes, ma’am. Sorry to have wasted your time. I’m right about the mission, though. I know it. (The conversation will end here and his romance will not trigger.)

>SECOND CHANCE TO AVOID THE ROMANCE<

SHEPARD (Paragon - Cute way to look at it./Neutral - An old-fashioned view.): Well, well. You’re a romantic. Did you sign on “for the dream,” Alenko? Secure man’s future in space?

KAIDAN: Heh, yeah, I read a lot of those books when I was a kid. Where the hero goes to space to prove himself worthy of a woman he loves. Or, you know. For justice. Maybe I was a romantic in the beginning. But I thought about it after Brain Camp - ah, sorry, “Biotic Acclimation and Temperance training.” I’m not looking for “the dream.” I just want to do some good. See what’s out here. Sorry if I got too informal. Protocol wasn’t a big focus back in BAaT.

SHEPARD (Renegade - Just be ready.): I trust you won’t have any questions when whatever’s coming hits the fan?

KAIDAN: None. I’m not questioning the mission. I’m just concerned. Sorry to have wasted your time, ma’am. It won’t happen again. (The conversation will end here and his romance will not trigger.)

The final chance to cut off Kaidan’s romance before it triggers happens after Shepard asks him about Brain Camp. This opens up a lot of investigation options and you may exhaust all of them. If you want to avoid hearing Kaidan imply that he thinks your Shepard is attractive, avoid the “Time to talk, then./Time to “get physical,” then.” investigation options. Once Kaidan is done speaking about Brain Camp, you will get one final chance to avoid his romance.

>THIRD CHANCE TO AVOID THE ROMANCE<

KAIDAN: Anyway. This was supposed to be a casual debrief, not a bull session about stuff that happened years ago.

SHEPARD (Renegade - You’re right.): I pretty much gave up waiting for the good part.

KAIDAN: Bad habit, ma’am. I do tend to run off at the mouth. I will work on it for my next review. Sorry to have wasted your time, ma’am. It won’t happen again. (The conversation ends and his romance does not trigger.)

You will notice all of these are renegade options. There is literally no way around this if you want to avoid triggering Kaidan’s romance. You don’t get any renegade points from them, and Kaidan does not treat you negatively in the ensuing post-main mission talks.

Here is an easy way to tell if Kaidan’s romance remains active. Conversations between him and Shepard will end like this:

SHEPARD: We’ll talk later, Kaidan.

KAIDAN: I’d like that.

“I’VE ALREADY TRIGGERED IT, HOW DO I GET OUT OF THIS?”

The good news is that getting out of the romance is fairly simple. The game gives you a lot of opportunities before it triggers the love triangle with Liara (assuming her romance has also been triggered, anyway).

If Kaidan’s romance was triggered, you will have an opportunity at the beginning of his second and third post-main mission talks. These are a bit more complex to transcribe, so I really recommend just reading them in my transcription if you need the exact dialogue options to understand.

But the gist: You can’t go wrong with choosing the renegade dialogue options. This is always the dialogue option that will end his romance. You are almost never going to end his romance with a paragon or neutral dialogue option. He will always prompt this conversation by wondering if he’s gotten his signals mixed up, if there’s someone else you’d rather spend time with, if he’s being too casual, etc. Once he does this, just shoot him down with a renegade dialogue option.

Again: you get no renegade points from this. He will not treat you negatively in the ensuing post-main mission talks.

Here is an example. This one occurs in his second post-main mission talk if Liara’s romance hasn’t been triggered:

KAIDAN: I’m just saying...try to leave yourself a way out. I’ve seen what cutting corners can do and I’d hate to have that happen to you, Shepard. Commander.

SHEPARD (Renegade - I don’t need approval.): I’m your commanding officer, Alenko. Are you questioning the way I handle things?

KAIDAN: No, Commander. Just concerned about the reception of the brass if things go sour. I apologize for bringing it up. I know we’re getting the job done.

SHEPARD: (You can choose whatever response you like; they all lead to the romance ending.)

If you have repeatedly not broken off the romance with Kaidan after a certain point and Liara’s romance is also active, it will trigger the love triangle scene. This is one of the last points you have to break off Kaidan’s romance, but it will lock you into Liara’s romance instead. If you are wanting a no-romance run, I recommend choosing one of the other options instead.

There is also a separate way to end the romance outside these three opportunities. In the third post-main mission talk, you must pick the dialogue option that triggers the argument that can “renegade” Kaidan’s opinion on the Council. You must not choose the charm or intimidate option here, and you must then pick the renegade dialogue options. The conversation should go like this:

KAIDAN: So yeah, I hated that turian. But he wasn’t “a turian” to me. He was Vyrnnus.

SHEPARD (Renegade - All turians are the same.): You can’t deny the turians are imperialists. And the asari, the salarians - they’re manipulators.

KAIDAN: Shepard, I outgrew the blame game years ago. If the Alliance is missing its chance, it’s because of men like Udina. Not the rest of the galaxy holding it back.

SHEPARD (Renegade - I’m not so sure.): When anyone out here listens to us, the Council starts up with their treaties and heel-dragging. We can only rely on ourselves.

KAIDAN: We’re not doing the galaxy any favors if we try to force our way into a seat at the grown-up table. They aren’t - malicious. They’re just slow to change. My story doesn’t get any better if Vyrnnus is a good guy.

SHEPARD (Renegade - Whose side are you on?): I don’t need you kissing the Council’s asses, too.

KAIDAN: Look, Shepard. You’re in command, and we’ll all follow your lead. But don’t ream me out for having an opinion. I thought we respected each other more than that.

SHEPARD (Renegade - I can’t respect this.): I can’t believe you’d side with aliens over your own kind. I think we’re done here.

KAIDAN: Yeah, I think we are. It’s--It’s too bad we...It’s just too bad, Commander.

This argument will end his romance. He will also not be renegaded. This is obviously a much more convoluted way to end his romance, but I’m throwing the option out there because it’s 1) hilarious, and 2) way more dramatic, if you want to roleplay ending the romance for whatever reason.

MISCELLANEOUS

Depending on the dialogue options you take for the scenic view on the Citadel, Kaidan will always flirt with you. This does not lock you into, or even trigger, his romance. It is entirely possible to not have him flirt with you at all in this scene, and still initiate the romance later. But if you do not want him to flirt with you, simply do this:

[image ID: ME1’s subtitles showing Ashley saying “Or maybe they just don’t like humans.” with the dialogue wheel below it giving the following dialogue choices, starting from the top: “What’s not to like?”, “Let’s move out.”, and “That’s enough, you two.” end ID]

When you get to this part of the scenic view cutscene, choose any dialogue option but the top “What’s not to like?” one.

Also, even if you’ve already avoided or shut down Kaidan’s romance, Liara will still ask if there’s something between the two of you if her romance is active. Tell her that there isn’t (because there isn’t). Her saying this does not re-trigger Kaidan’s romance.

Congratulations, you have now survived ME1’s romance mechanics. Enjoy experiencing unromanced Kaidan for the rest of the game.

ME3 BONUS: “OKAY, WHAT ABOUT HIM FLIRTING WITH ME IN THE HOSPITAL THOUGH?”

I have tested both of these personally multiple times and they have always worked for me, but again: see my warning about different platforms at the beginning of this post. If it doesn’t work for you, please let me know.

If you have not romanced Kaidan previously: don’t buy him the alcohol as a present. That’s it.

If you have romanced Kaidan previously: on Mars, tell him your relationship is over. It is a renegade dialogue option, but it is necessary to avoid the flirtation in the hospital. This route also means that you can buy him the alcohol and he will still not flirt with you.

Please note that going renegade on Mars does not lock you out of his romance. It merely prevents him from assuming you’re interested during your hospital visit.

ME3 BONUS: “OKAY, WHAT ABOUT HIS APOLLO’S PROPOSITION THOUGH?”

This only happens if you have not locked in your romance with your preferred love interest first. For Garrus, this is the bottle shooting date. For Tali and Traynor, it’s inviting her up to your cabin. For Liara and Miranda, it’s her Presidium date. So on and so forth.

This means there is no way around it if you romanced Jacob or Thane and do not want to pursue a different romance after them. If you do get this scene: again, just turn him down. It is never brought up again. He does not act like he’s in love with you going forth. You will get his unromanced date in the Citadel DLC, as well as his unromanced London goodbye.

ASHLEY

“I WANT TO AVOID TRIGGERING IT ENTIRELY, WHAT DO I DO?”

Ashley’s romance can be triggered after the first main mission has been completed. For many players, I imagine this is Therum, but it really doesn’t matter which mission it is.

Ashley will prompt the conversation, as she will for every other post-main mission conversation so long as her romance remains active. This conversation will be about her concerns about the aliens aboard the Normandy.

Note: Ashley has one less opportunity to avoid triggering her romance in the first post-main mission talk compared to Kaidan. You may also read the conversation in her transcript if you find it easier to follow along, though I have done my best to format this post as cleanly as possible.

ASHLEY: Commander. You have a minute to talk?

SHEPARD: (You can choose whatever dialogue option you want. It makes no difference yet.)

ASHLEY: I know things are different aboard the Normandy, but - I'm concerned about the aliens. Vakarian and Wrex. With all due respect, Commander, should they have full access to the ship?

SHEPARD: (Again, you can choose whatever dialogue option you want. It still makes no difference yet.)

>FIRST CHANCE TO AVOID THE ROMANCE<

ASHLEY: This is the most advanced ship in the Alliance Navy. I don't think we should give them free reign to poke around the vital systems. Engines. Sensors. Weapons.

SHEPARD (Side - You're out of line!): That's enough, Chief. You always second-guess your superiors?

ASHLEY: Sir! No, sir! I'm sorry. I was out of line. I'll get back to my duties, Commander. (The conversation will end and her romance will not trigger.)

If you do not pick the above option, Ashley will elaborate her stance further until you get to the dialogue wheel with the second (and final) chance to avoid her romance.

>SECOND CHANCE TO AVOID THE ROMANCE<

ASHLEY: My family's defended the Alliance since it was founded. My father, my grandfather, my great-grandmother - they all picked up a rifle and swore the Oath of Service. I guess we just tend to think of Earth's interests as our own.

SHEPARD (Renegade - Just shut up.): I expect you to keep your family politics to yourself, Chief. The mission will be difficult enough without you picking fights with aliens.

ASHLEY: Aye, aye, Commander. (The conversation will end and her romance will not trigger.)

Note: You can still pick the investigation dialogue options that discusses her service and family history. You just have to pick the renegade dialogue option outlined above afterward, instead of any other option.

Like with Kaidan, you do not get any renegade points for picking this option and Ashley does not treat you negatively in the ensuing post-main mission talks.

Here is an easy way to tell if Ashley’s romance remains active. Conversations between her and Shepard will end with the following:

SHEPARD: We'll talk later, Williams.

ASHLEY: Looking forward to it, sir.

“I’VE ALREADY TRIGGERED IT, HOW DO I GET OUT OF THIS?”

Admittedly, you have fewer easy opportunities to end Ashley’s romance than you do Kaidan’s, and most of the early game ones require Liara’s romance also being active. You are still offered multiple different opportunities out before the game ends, however.

If Ashley and Liara’s romances are both triggered, you will have an opportunity at the beginning of Ashley’s second and third post-main mission talks to end the romance. The gist is the same as Kaidan’s: You can’t go wrong with choosing the renegade dialogue options. This is always the dialogue option that will end her romance. You are almost never going to end her romance with a paragon or neutral dialogue option. She will always prompt this conversation by bringing up your relationship with Liara. Once she does this, just shoot her down.

Again: you get no renegade points from this. She will not treat you negatively in the ensuing post-main mission talks.

In both the second and third post-main mission talks, the conversation will go something like:

ASHLEY: Surprised to see you here, sir. Thought you’d be chatting up what’s-her-name. T’Soni.

SHEPARD: (Pick the neutral or renegade dialogue option here; they both lead to the same dialogue branch.)

ASHLEY: Scuttlebutt says you’ve got a bit of a thing for her. I could understand why. The crew’s off-limits, with the regs against fraternization. And at least she looks like a woman.

SHEPARD: (Pick the neutral or renegade dialogue option here. They both end the romance.)

One of the easier exceptions to this that doesn't require Liara’s romance being active is in the second post-main mission talk when Ashley gets Sarah’s vid-mail. It will go like this:

SARAH: - Oh, before I go. You said you’re serving with Commander Shepard now? We saw him on the news here. He’s cute! Later, sis.

ASHLEY: Tell me you didn’t hear that.

SHEPARD (Renegade - That’s unprofessional.): I don’t need to tell you it’s inappropriate to gossip about how “cute” your commanding officer is.

ASHLEY: No, sir. You don’t. Sorry about that. It won’t happen again. (Conversation and romance ends.)

Please note, however, that this will lock you out of the remainder of the conversation and you will not learn about Ashley’s family.

If you have repeatedly not broken off the romance with Ashley after a certain point and Liara’s romance is also active, it will trigger the love triangle scene. This is one of the last points you have to break off Ashley’s romance, but it will lock you into Liara’s romance instead. If you are wanting a no-romance run, I recommend choosing one of the other options instead.

There is also a separate way to end the romance outside these three opportunities. In the third post-main mission talk, you must pick the dialogue option that triggers the argument that can “paragon” Ashley’s opinion on the Council. You must not choose the charm or intimidate option here, and you must then pick the renegade dialogue options. The conversation should go something like this:

ASHLEY: But hey, once we save the galaxy, maybe the Alliance will get its act together. Start acting like an actual government.

SHEPARD (Paragon - The Alliance is all right.): The Alliance isn’t perfect, but it does well enough.

ASHLEY: Have to disagree with you there, skipper. Giving aliens the run of our most advanced ship? Kowtowing to the Council?

SHEPARD (Paragon - It’s not like that.): The Alliance should be able to stand on is own. We can’t. Yet. Why not learn from the races that have been standing for the last thousand years?

ASHLEY: How can you say that, given everything we’ve seen out here? They’re already acting like Saren is our problem. Already siccing us on the bear. The Council races will always think of themselves first. It’s - human nature. We can’t afford to trust them. Not if the survival of humanity is on the line.

SHEPARD (Renegade - I’ve heard enough.): Whatever feelings I might have for you, we have to work with the Council. I can’t let you second-guess our superiors.

ASHLEY: Shepard, I’m a soldier. You’re my commander. If you give me an order, I’ll follow it. I don’t expect you to treat me differently from anyone else under your command. And if you have been - quit it. I thought you knew me better than that.

SHEPARD (Renegade - Do I?): Seems like every time we run up against aliens, you whip out the “Earth first” card. I can’t have my authority undermined.

ASHLEY: I never intended to “undermine” you, Shepard. I believe in you. I wish you’d believe in anyone but yourself. With your permission, sir, I’ll return to my duties.

This argument will end her romance. She will also not be paragoned. This is obviously a much more convoluted way to end her romance, but I’m throwing the option out there because it’s 1) hilarious (that final line, oof), and 2) way more dramatic, if you want to roleplay ending the romance for whatever reason.

MISCELLANEOUS

Like with Kaidan, depending on the dialogue options you take for the scenic view on the Citadel, Ashley will always flirt with you. This does not lock you into, or even trigger, her romance. It is entirely possible to not have her flirt with you at all in this scene, and still initiate the romance later. But if you do not want her to flirt with you, simply do this:

When you get to this part of the scenic view cutscene, choose any dialogue option but the top “What’s not to like?” one.

Also like with Kaidan, even if you’ve already avoided or shut down Ashley’s romance, Liara will still ask if there’s something between the two of you if her romance is active. Tell her that there isn’t (because there isn’t). Her saying this does not re-trigger Ashley’s romance.

Congratulations, you have now survived ME1’s romance mechanics. Enjoy experiencing unromanced Ashley for the rest of the game.

LIARA

“I WANT TO AVOID TRIGGERING IT ENTIRELY, WHAT DO I DO?”

As I mentioned in the beginning of this post, I have found no easy way around Liara’s romance. If anyone else has, I genuinely mean it when I say I would absolutely be open to you telling me, because I would love to know.

The only way to avoid triggering Liara’s romance that I have found are the following:

Simply not talking to her for most of the game (not ideal)

Completing Therum only after you’ve done at least two main missions (also not ideal since it will require Noveria being completed without her)

Completing Therum only after all the other main missions have been completed (again not ideal, though every player should at least do this once if only for the unique content you get from it)

Okay, so what if you want to complete Therum first but still avoid Liara’s romance? I have found one way to accomplish this, but it requires you to be in a romance with Kaidan (or presumably Ashley, but I have only tested this with Kaidan).

After you recruit Liara, you may check up on her in the med-bay but do not initiate conversation after that. If she prompts you by saying, “I get the feeling you want to ask me something, Commander,” do not pick the yellowed dialogue option:

[image ID: ME1′s subtitles showing Liara saying, “I get the feeling you want to ask me something, Commander.” with the dialogue wheel showing the following options: “Investigate”, a yellowed option above “Investigate” labeled “I’d like to talk about you.”, and “Goodbye.” end ID.]

After you complete another main mission, you can check back in with Liara and speak to her normally. This conversation should be the one you’d normally get after Therum, where you learn about why she likes archaeology and how she finds Shepard fascinating.

After you complete another main mission, you must talk to Kaidan or Ashley first. To clarify: at this point you should be at the post-third main mission mark. For Kaidan, you will be getting the “Vyrnnus and Rahna” talk that you can read in his transcript; for Ashley, you will be getting the “Williams Curse” talk that you can read in her transcript.

After you speak with Kaidan or Ashley, you may speak with Liara as normal. This conversation should be picking up on where you left off last time. Liara will talk about how she’s looked into Shepard’s history and Shepard can press her for why she’s so interested in them. Liara should then say something like the following lines:

LIARA: I admit, your connection to the Protheans had something to do with my initial interest. But it has grown beyond that. My interest in you, however, is strictly professional. I want to make that clear. It is obvious you and Lt. Alenko already have some type of relationship. I would not want to come between you.

Her romance will not trigger for the rest of the game.

Please note: Again, I have only tested this with Kaidan. But it should, in theory, work the exact same for Ashley considering many of hers and Kaidan’s other romance mechanics are identical.

“THAT’S NICE, BUT HOW DO I END HER ROMANCE IF IT’S ALREADY TRIGGERED?”

You will follow the same steps as in Kaidan and Ashley’s portions. When she prompts you with whether or not there’s anything between the two of you, you must turn her down. You can never go wrong with the renegade dialogue options here. Again: you get no renegade points for it, and Liara treats you no differently going forth.

She will also usually bring up Kaidan or Ashley depending on what Shepard you are playing, and mention that it seems like there’s something between the two of you even when you do not have their romance active. If you aren’t romancing the VS, just tell her that she’s got it wrong, because...she does. It does not re-trigger either of their romances.

YES I AM ALMOST DONE TALKING

The game really does give you ample opportunities to avoid or end the romances (which is only fair considering how easy they are to trip), so hopefully I have outlined at least one you are comfortable taking.

There are other ways to end both Kaidan and Ashley’s romance that I did not mention (such as during the locker scene, or if you try to un-paragon/renegade) - the point of no return you mainly have to worry about is en route to Ilos. I imagine most players will have their romances sorted out by then, though, so I’m not sure it’s worth mentioning unless you’re wanting to do it purely for roleplay reasons. (In which case: you may read those in their respective transcripts if you’re curious.)

I cannot say I have tested every single romance cut-off, but I have tested most of the important ones players are most likely to take. I am assuming the romances are cut off based on the fact Shepard and the VS’ farewells will change depending on their romanced status (as I outlined in their respective sections), which I do feel is a safe bet. But if you try one of these and find that it did not end the romance: I’m sorry, and please do let me know (and also what platform you play on).

If you read all of this: thank you for your time, and I hope you find this guide useful!

#mass effect #kaidan alenko #ashley williams #liara t'soni #shenko #shepley #shiara #okay perhaps this post will show up in the tags eventually but it certainly is not for now #which makes this post utterly pointless but whatever hopefully it still gets spread around #edit: this post is showing up in the tags now thanks everyone who reblogged!

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violettelueur · 3 years

Text

— JUJUTSU KAISEN EPISODE THREE || GIRL OF STEEL

↳ featuring : itadori yuji + fushiguro megumi + kugisaki nobara + gojo satoru from jujutsu kaisen

↳ warnings : swearing and EXTREME grammar issues

↳ form : story

↳ published : 10 february

↳ pronouns : she/her

↳ word count : 5.7k

↳ synopsis : within the jujutsu world, there were three famous clans to be aware of, the Kamo clan, Zenin clan and the Gojo clan. However, unknown to many sorcerers there was one last family that was known to be apart of the three, only for them to disappear after the golden era leading some to speculate that they had died in battle after the sealing of ryomen sukuna, but....

↳ previous episode : for myself

↳ next episode : curse womb must die

↳ barista’s notes : i am back again with another episode of jujutsu kaisen everyone ʕ •ᴥ•ʔゝ☆ this will be the last update for now since i want to get some of your requests done due to my pushing them back to get the first three episodes done! i hope you enjoy this cup of classic black coffee (jujutsu kaisen) and come again ʕ•ᴥ•ʔﾉ♡

BEFORE READING, I NEED YOU TO BE AWARE OF THIS:

1. the whole story belongs to Gege Akutami and the credits go to them and them only

2. the spell curses used belong to Tite Kubo due to them being the ‘Kidos’ being used on the manga and anime ‘Bleach’ - but none is mentioned in this chapter

3. this whole thing might be confusing and please don’t expect a part four soon because i will do it when i am ready or feel like i can at the right time ʕ ᵒ ᴥ ᵒʔ

4. i don’t know, if i am going to add this onto my masterlist since this was just for fun to be honest!

Taken back to his discovery, you turned back to look at Gojo will a deadpan expression leading him to then carefully suggest, “Since you are part of the lost L/N clan, I won’t tell the higher-ups about your existence but rather have you twist your name slightly when you enrol, how does that sound?”

Glancing at the teacher with suspicion, you tried to hide the gut-wrenching feeling that there was not a possible chance of you now escaping from this. You had been caught and found and there was no way to lie yourself out of this situation you were in, not when Gojo had discovered who you really were while Fushiguro seemed to look clueless on what was going on between his teacher and the female sorcerer in front of him.

Letting out a sigh of frustration once again, you looked up at the sky, letting the same moonlight bathe your face as it did for Sukuna a few minutes ago.

“What a drag”

ꕥ

‘What the hell did I get myself into you?’

While sipping on the straw of your orange juice carton, you were currently leaning against a railing in the city of Toyko within the Harajuku district in front of a train station, where you were supposed to meet with the new student that had enrolled in the school.

Between you were both Itadori, who was eating an ice lolly while sitting on the same railing, and Fushiguro, who was just standing while facing towards you both, as they were waiting for the same person as well as a special someone who was supposed to be here with the three of you.

“How are there only three first-years? Isn’t that too few?” Itadori curiously asked as he turned to Fushiguro for the answer to his understandable questions, since he was in shock that a year group could be so small for a large school like Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College.

“Well, have you ever met anyone who can see curses before?” Fushiguro questioned, as he was trying to make his new classmate get the answer he was looking for.

“Hm, expect for L/N, who hid it from everyone, nope,” Itadori than answered, leading Fushiguro look at you for a second, only to discover you still continuing to drink the orange juice that you had bought earlier while looking at the entrance of the station in a daze, it was like you were ignoring the two of them.

“That just proves how small a minority jujutsu sorcerers are,” Fushiguro explained before reminding Itadori about a really important piece of information that the vessel seemed to have forgotten. “Remember, that L/N is now Gojo Y/N, since Gojo-sensei changed her name for privacy reasons,” Fushiguro stated, leading to your classmate to look at you with a more surprised look.

“Why are you now referred to as Gojo rather than your last name?” Itadori queried as he leaned forward to get a better look at you. This reminder of your changed name led to your eyes to squint in annoyance as you steadily but furiously began to scrunch your carton since your situation, in your opinion, had gone from bad to worse.

“Ah….I’m not really sure, to be honest,” you answered with a lie, as you moved the plastic straw away from your lips as you then stirred the box around like it was a glass of wine.

‘Ugh….Gojo...’

ꕥ

“Stareeeeeeeeeeee”

Looking down at the document sheet that was handed to you, you were taken by sudden surprise at the name section that was on the top left of the sheet, as there was a subtle change made from what you could recall from your birth name.

“Gojo Y/N…” you muttered under your breath leading to your teacher to clap his hands in delight before presenting you with his classic cheeky smile.

“Ah~ you are now my adoptive daughter~” Gojo cheerfully confessed, leading you to pause for a second before looking back up at the special-grade sorcerer with widened eyes - like a deer caught in headlights - once you processed the information in your head.

“How is everyone going to believe that is true? There is no way, people will believe that if they see the documents were signed yesterday or today,” you argued, trying to convince him that the excuse he gave to hide your identity was ridiculous. However, before you could even get a second word in, you unexpectedly felt a finger being pressed lightly onto your lips as if to tell you to hush yourself.

“Don’t worry, I manipulated the documents to say that I had adopted you five years ago, so your secret is safe with me and the principle, none of the higher-ups knows and none of the other students as well except for Yuji and Megumi,” Gojo informed you with a smirk, as if telling you that you had been proven wrong. Sighing in frustration, you finally gave up with the argument and handed the sheet back to Gojo as you began to fully take in where you were right now.

It was such a quick process. The day your schoolmate Itadori Yuji became the vessel of the King of Curses, was the same day that both Fushiguro and Gojo took you to Jujutsu Tech to attend and become a student at their school. In your mind, you were still supposed to be back home in Sendai. Back home in the empty house that used to be shared with your mother. Back home where you were away from the city life and peacefully in the countryside away from the hustling capital while blending into the crowd as if you were just a normal student with a normal life.

If you hadn’t come back to school that night.

If you hadn’t noticed the curse back at the rugby field.

If you hadn’t even looked out that window, to begin with.

All this wouldn’t have happened.

None of it.

You still would have been hidden like you were supposed to be.

“Oh! L/N, you’re staying here as well?”

Snapping out of your daze, you quickly turned back around to find the source of the voice that called out for you, only to discover both Itadori and Fushiguro walking towards you leading you to then slowly close your dorm door before greeting them with a small wave.

“Ah, ah, it’s now Gojo Y/N boys, make sure to not say her last time,” Gojo quickly stated, causing both of the boys to look at their teacher with such bewilderment before turning their head towards you as if you were going to explain to them what was the reasoning behind this sudden change.

To be honest, there was no point in your opinion. Itadori had no idea or clue on who the three families were in the jujutsu world and it was such effort to explain to him the reasons why these families were so famous and as for Fushiguro, he could probably discover that on his own so, once again, there was no point on giving them an answer.

“Well, it’s all good!” Gojo suddenly stated, as he once again clapped his hands together with a gleeful expression displayed on his face leading you to look to the side with an annoyed glance, as you didn’t need nor want the happy-go-lucky enthusiasm after discovering you were now ‘part’ of the Gojo clan as someone’s adoptive daughter. “Most importantly, we’re heading out tomorrow, we’re gonna go pick up the fourth first-year!” Gojo declared to the three of you causing a total of three pairs of eyes to look at him as you, Itadori and Fushiguro began to process the information.

‘Another one huh?’

ꕥ

“By the way, didn’t you say I was the third and L/N was the fourth?” Itadori questioned, as he suddenly remembered that you and him unexpectedly enrolled in the sorcerer school leading him to wonder how long has it been since the ‘second’ student had been enrolled and why they were only just arriving now.

“Their entry was decided a while ago, you know what our school’s like, everyone has unique circumstances and remember it’s Gojo, not L/N,” Fushiguro answered while trying to remind Itadori of your new name, leading him to place his hand on the back of his neck before informing you and Fushiguro that he was just used to calling you by your original last name.

“It’s fine, just call me Gojo when we are around other people excluding Gojo-sensei, okay?” you reassured Itadori, causing the cheerful boy to nod at you, informing you that he understood your statement.

“Sorry for the wait!” Gojo shouted at you three as he was walking towards you before noticing a change of look between his two new students. “Your uniforms made it in time, I see,” Gojo uttered as he peered at both you and Itadori before giving an approving nod as if he was a fashion designer looking at his models before hitting the runway.

From what Gojo has stated, Itadori was wearing the classic blue uniform with the noticeable two pins sewed onto the left side to indicate that he was a sorcerer at jujutsu tech with a red hoodie that added a hint of colour compared to his counterpart Fushiguro, who had a high neck. On the other hand, you were sporting a short jacket with a white dress shirt underneath while wearing a long skirt that had a slit on the side to give your legs some room, revealing the thigh-high black socks you were wearing to cover some of the skin from the gentle winds that were coming while your katana was resting in a bag as you were carrying it on your left shoulder to conceal your weapon from the other citizens around.

“Yeah, it’s a perfect fit,” Itadori said while showing his teacher the thumbs up before suddenly commenting, “though it’s slightly different from Fushiguro’s, it has a hood for one,” as he started to point the differences between his uniform to his new classmate’s to which caused you and the mentioned sorcerer to look at him while he tugged on his red hoodie.

“That’s because the uniforms can be customised upon request,” Gojo mentioned, leading you to discover and finally understand why your uniform looked completely different to the one another student was wearing, all you remembered about her was that she had greenish hair while wearing a pair of glasses.

‘So, he was the one that put the request in huh?’

“But I never put in any requests,” Itadori commented, as he was confused on why there was an alteration to his uniform without his knowledge.

“I was the one who put on the custom order, as well as my daughter new uniform~” Gojo said with a smile as he playfully decided to pull on your cheek leading you to smack his hand away, resulting in him pouting while rubbing the back on his hand like your smack had caused him some pain.

“Whatever, I guess,” Itadori remarked, as he looked down onto his hoodie.

“Be careful, Gojo-sensei has a tendency to do things like that,” Fushiguro warned both you and itadori before looking back to the mentioned sorcerer with a question in mind. “Most importantly, why are we meeting up in Harajuku?” Fushiguro curiously asked since it was a bit strange to him that a student didn’t just arrive at the school like all three of you did.

“Because it’s what she asked for,” Gojo answered before Itadori randomly noticed a popcorn stand before declaring that he wanted some to enjoy leading you to walk behind him to make sure he didn’t get lost within the city that was crowded with the ongoing shopper as well as tourists that decided to take a break away from their work or lives to experience a new setting.

“Oh hello there, are you on the clock right now?” someone randomly asked, causing you to turn back only to discover what seemed to be a businessman with a green suit paired with a unique purple tie decorated with teal polka dots.

“Sort of but not really,” you uninterestingly answered, giving the man a bored expression leading his nervousness to increase further due to the anxiety of talking to a random stranger in the middle of the streets of Tokyo.

“You see, I’m looking for potential models, this is who I am,” the man explained as he processed to pull out his business card to which you didn’t give a day of time to look down at. “Would you be interested?” the businessman processed to question before you lifted an open palm while giving the man a polite smile.

“Sorry, I’m not really interested in modelling at all but thank you for the opportunity,” you politely declined as you noticed the deflated look the worker had given you. However, before the modelling scout could apologise and thank you for your time, a hand violently grabbed his shoulder before he was pulled back to face the opposite way.

“Hey, you, what about me?” a girl asked, causing you to look behind the small businessman’s figure to see a girl around the same age as you point to herself with the thumb. From what you could observe, she had short orange hair that seemed to be dyed due to the slightly darker colour of her eyebrows but it wasn’t obvious while carrying what seemed to be many shopping bags around her arms while her carrier pink backpack on her back. However, the uniform she was wearing was saying something as the buttons gave an indication of what she was.

‘Ah, so she’s the new student’ you thought before processing to continue looking at the scene right in front of you.

“For the modelling gig, duh, I’m asking what you think about me,” she commented leading you to give squint your eyes in confusion, what was the point of being a model when you were already a jujutsu sorcerer at Toyko Metropolitan Curse Technical College.

On the other hand, what you were concerned with was the three males who were standing on the sidelines watching the situation unfold leading you to give them a bored look before walking towards them with your left hand in your skirt pocket since the slit on the other side made it not possible for another pocket to be made.

“We’re about to go talk to her? That is kinda embarrassing,” Itadori commented while lifting up what seemed to be more than popcorn in his hand leading to a confused look to appear on your face, while Fushiguro gave an irritated side glance as he tutted.

“So are you,” Fushiguro mentioned, due to the silly ‘rook’ tourist glasses he was wearing before glancing to the other side where Gojo stood as the teacher called out the female student to come their way, while some female passersby commented on the white-haired sorcerer’s blindfold to which was quite understandable.

ꕥ

Slashing the metal locker door shut, the new student then inserted the needed amount of coins to make sure the door was completely locked before turning to the three males that stood right in front of her.

“Okay, once again,” Gojo mentioned as he raised an arm to indicate to her that she can introduce herself.

“Kugisaki Nobara,” Kugisaki introduced herself before continuing with, “be happy, boys. I’m the one woman in your group,” leading to some confusion to float around within the group.

“Where’s Y/N?” Gojo curiously asked the boys as they continuously turned around the area to find where you were before turning back to look at Kugisaki. Suddenly, behind Kugisaki, the boys had found you heading towards the group while casually sipping on another carton of orange juice that you had bought out of the blue once you saw it while passing by a vending machine when you were walking to the nearest locker station for the student that had arrived.

“Ah, sorry, I got a bit thirsty,” you commented while lifting the carton up before finally standing next to the new student, who you just found out was named Kugisaki Nobara as you were able to still hear what she was saying while you were coming back to them. However, it seemed like you weren’t what she was analysing right now as you noticed her looking right at Itadori and Fushguro with an intense glance.

“I’m Itadori Yuji, I’m from Sendai,” Itadori introduced himself as he used his finger to indicate to himself as well.

“Fushiguro Megumi,” bluntly stated, as he turned to look at Kugisaki.

Letting out a sigh of disappointment, Kugisaki proceeded to complain about the circumstances she was in, leading the boys to look at her with a really awkward expression on their faces.

“She took one look and sighed,” Itadori commented, as his face turned into a sulk while Fushiguro wasn’t making eye contact at all.

“I’m Gojo Y/N, I hope we can get along,” you quickly stated, while trying not to cringe at your name, leading Kugisaki to look to her side to find you looking at her before a hint of glee and joy processed to manifest in her eyes.

“Maybe the circumstances aren’t that bad! But why do you have the same name as your teacher when you don’t even look alike?” Kugisaki mentioned while giving you a small smile to which you gave her the same trying to be friendly with the new classmate that you had just met.

“Ah it’s a drag to explain fully, but I’m his adoptive daughter,” you quickly answered as you didn’t want to slip up the lie that was concealing your whole identity which seemed to convince the sorcerer since she gave you another nod, telling you that she understood what you had just mentioned.

“Are we going somewhere from here?” Fushiguto asked his teacher, as he turned to look towards the direction of the tall man leading to a light laugh to emit from his mouth causing you to get suspicious of what Gojo was planning.

“We do have all four of you together and not to mention, three of you are from the countryside,” Gojo suddenly mentioned, leading all his students to look at him, anticipating what he had planned. “So of course we’re going on a tour of Tokyo,” Gojo suddenly announced, leading to excitement between Itadori and Kugisaki to burst out while Gojo joined in, to hype the moment up.

“Tokyo! Tokyo! Tokyo! We love Tokyo!” Itadori and Kugisaki cheered, leading you and Fushiguro to look at the two with such confusion expressed on your faces.

While you looked at the scene with such confusion, Fushiguro was more confused at the fact of why you weren’t enlivened at the fact about this ‘tour’ while the two started arguing about the structure of Tokyo as they were getting some places confused with other places.

“Why ain’t you excited?” Fushiguro commented as you continued to sip on the citrusy drink that you had brought earlier leading to another question on your obsession with orange juice to pop up in his head.

“I’ve already been to Tokyo for some business trips with my mother from time to time and what I mean by that is exorcising curses here with her,” you answered before continuing with “also, I have a suspicion that we ain’t going on a tour, it is Gojo Saturo after all,” before going back to drinking on the carton drink you were craving for.

“I will now announce our destination,” Gojo stated, leading both Itadori and Kugisaki to kneel down in front of your teacher, only for you to give them a strange look before Gojo proudly announced where everyone was heading off to.

“Roppongi!”

“Ro-ppong-gi!” Itadori and Kugisaki said with glee as they turned to each other with the same exciting look.

‘Well, let’s see how this goes’

ꕥ

‘I knew it....’

“There's a curse here,” Fushguro stated as you gave a slight nod while inspecting the large abandoned building that was surrounded by a large ominous dark purple hues indicating that there was just more than one curse in the building or maybe just a single one - you couldn’t sense it due to the amount of cursed energy being released out of the building.

“You liar!” Itadori and Kugisaki screamed in anger while complaining at the fact that they both were deceived on where they were heading off to before Kugisaki shouted something about ‘toying with us country folk’.

“There’s a big cemetery nearby, the double whammy of that and an abandoned building brought out a curse,” Gojo informed everyone like staring up at the building as well.

“So they really do pop up more often around graves?” Itadori questioned after his little tantrum, leading you to realise that he had no knowledge on how curses appeared or anything to do with the jujutsu world to start with.

“The issue isn’t the cemetery itself, it’s the fact that people associate cemeteries with fear,” you explained to the noobie while swirling the now empty carton in hand.

“Oh, it was the same for schools, too, wasn’t it?” Itadori then asked as he turned to look at you for any answers causing Kugisaki to pause her ranting to look at Itadori with a perplexed look on her face.

“Hold up. He didn’t even know that yet?” Kugisaki questioned, leading you to give off an awkward laugh while looking to the side away from the group which only led to more confusion to emit from her.

“To be honest….” Fushiguro started before explaining the situation that had brought Itadori to where he was now causing Kugisaki to give an extremely disgusted look on her face - and to be honest, you couldn’t blame her at all.

“He swallowed a special-grade cursed object!?! Gross! Unbelievable! That’s so unsanitary and disgusting! No way, no way, no way, no way!” Kugisaki yelled out before running away from the three of you as you looked at her with nonchalant faces.

“What?!” Itadori shouted in confusion.

“I agree with her,” Fushiguro mentioned in a blunt tone, leading you to completely ignore your classmates as you continuously looked up at the building in front of you.

“I want to know what all of you are capable of, just think of this as a field test,” Gojo informed everyone with a smile on his face before calling out Itadori and Kugisaki to tell them they were going to exorcise the curse inside the building themselves leaving you confused since you were also a new student here as well.

“Huh? But I thought only curses could exorcise curses, right? I can’t use any jujutsu yet,” Itadori asked before indicating his lack of ability to the teacher.

“You’re basically half a curse already, there cursed energy flowing throughout your body,” Gojo stated as he pointed at the vessel before continuing to explain “though controlling that energy isn’t something you can learn overnight, so use this,” before taking out what seemed to be a cursed weapon in front of you and the rest.

“It’s the cursed tool, Slaughter Demon. It’s a weapon imbued with cursed energy, it’ll work on curses, too,” Gojo explained while Itadori gazed at the weapon in amazement.

“Like Gojo’s sword? And why isn’t she taking part in this test?” Itadori then asked as he pointed at the bag behind your back leading to Kugisaki to look at it in shock since she thought it was just a normal carrier bag that you just had.

“Yeah, kind of like that and to be honest, this test isn’t good enough to test her abilities, she wouldn’t need to take the katana out and probably use it with the wooden hilt on,” Gojo explained as he turned to you with a cheeky smile of his face.

Suddenly, Kugisaki turned her back towards all of you before fastening a brown belt around her waist which had a small pouch to keep whatever she needed in there, leading Itadori to follow behind her.

“Oh, one more thing,” Gojo suddenly shouted, causing Itadori to turn as Gojo then stated, “don’t let Sukuna out, if you use him, you’ll get rid of all the curses nearby in a flash, but you’ll also drag everyone around into it.”

“Got it. I won’t let Sukuna out,” Itadori assumed his teacher before Kugisaki turned back around to complain to her classmate to hurry up while you quickly took a seat on the stone platform that was right behind you before setting your bag down onto the side making it lean against the same stone you took a seat on while Fushiguro and Goj followed behind.

“I think I’ll go, too,” Fushiguro mentioned, causing you to give him a side glance as you wondered if he was worried or just not hopeful that the two will actually exorcise the curse.

“Don’t push yourself, you’re still recovering,” Gojo reminded his student before saying “if I needed to put someone in for backup, it would be Y/N since she seems to be in a better condition than you.”

“But someone needs to keep an eye on Itadori, right?” Fushiguro questioned in a concerned tone.

“True,” Gojo answered in a dazed tone, indicating to you that he wasn’t worried one bit.

From your perspective, you understood why Fushiguro was worried about your new classmate since he didn’t have the ability to take on a curse from his lack of experience but from what you could recall from that night, it seemed like you didn’t have to worry at all.

“That Yuji..he’s missing a few up here,” Gojo randomly stated, as he pointed his head to indicate his brain. “He has no hesitation, when it comes to killing these things, take that the form of living creatures, albeit bizarre-looking ones, to try to kill him,” Gojo explained to his long-term student while you were just resting the back of your head on the wall before your teacher continued with “and it’s not like he’s been familiar with curses for a long time, like you. This is a boy who used to live a normal high school life, you’ve seen plenty of jujutsu sorcerers, even though with talent, give up in frustration because they couldn’t conquer their fear or disgust, haven’t you?” leading to Fushiguro to look down to his hands as he thought about the statement while you looked up to the sky to question your own thoughts.

‘Is that one of the reasons why the L/N clan decided to disappear? Nah, they were able to seal Sukuna, there is no way that could be the reason’

“So today I want to confirm how crazy she is,” Gojo mentioned, somewhat giving you a slight idea on what he was trying to inform you both.

“But Kugisaki has the experience, right? Little late for that now, isn’t it?” Fushguro asked as he was still unsure about what Gojo was trying to tell him.

“Curses are born from human minds, so their strength and numbers grow in proportion to the population, curses in Tokyo are on a different level than those in the countryside,” Gojo said in a low tone to which Fushiguro understood but still had some uncertainty lingering in his head.

“What he is trying to say that ‘level’ doesn’t mean the amount of cursed energy one curse may have but their cunningness, what he is testing is how one reacts to cruel choices that are forcibly handed to them like the weight on a human life in danger balancing upon your shoulder,” you casually explained, leading Fushiguro to look at you while Gojo had a bright smile on his face, glad that you understood what he was talking about.

However, before you continue with your explanation, there was a loud crash being heard from above with pieces of broken glass falling to the ground leading to the three of you down below to look up, only to find the curse causing the purple hue trying to escape.

“I’ll exorcise it,” Fushiguro quickly said, as he clasped his hands together ready to summon a shikigami. However, he felt a tug on his arm leading him to look down to find you tugging onto the sleeve of his uniform.

“Hold on, have some confidence in your peers,” you muttered, before letting go of the fabric as you processed to lean your head back onto the wall while closing your eyes. “I don’t know how long you have been alone but understand you have teammates now, so rely on them as well, okay?” you stated as you slowly opened your eyes to peer up at the curse, only to suddenly see large metal strikes come out of its body before disintegrating into nothing, while the purple aura that was surrounding the abandoned building disappeared with it.

“Nice, she’s crazy, all right,” Gojo mentioned with a gleeful smile on his face, happy with the results that had just come in from this field test.

ꕥ

“I live over there! Thanks again!” the kid mentioned as he pointed towards the direction of his house before running off.

From what you could recall, at the end of the field test, Itadori and Kugisaki came out of the building with a child before explaining that he was in the building during the test and he was caught in the middle of it all.

Observing the boy running to his house, you wanted to make sure he got home safely from a distance to which he did once you saw him enter through the gates to what seemed to be his house before being greeted by an obviously worried mother, who scolded him for wondering about before being pulled into a hug.

‘I wonder what’s it like to have a normal childhood?’ you wondered before small but vivid memories began to appear in the back of your mind.

“I’m jealous,” you whispered, before turning around to find both Fushiguro and Gojo already walking back to Itadori and Kugisaki, who both were sitting on the stone steps impatiently waiting for the three of you to finish the task that needed to be done.

‘In the end, I’m alone with the responsibilities of the L/N clan upon my shoulders but I have you, dear. Even with this world being full of curses and impurities, I feel like I have a normal ordinary life with you by my side. I wish I could have given that to you, I’m sorry….’

“It’s okay,” you whispered again, this time leading Gojo to turn back to you with a confused look on his face which caused Fushiguro to look back as well, finding it strange that you haven’t left your stop since the kid was already back at his home, safe and out of harm’s reach for now.

“Did you say something Y/N?” Gojo asked, only for you to shake your head to deny that you had before making your way back to the group.

“Good Joseph! We made sure the kid got home,” Gojo shouted while giving a small wave towards the two students, who suddenly jumped up on their feet which confused you slightly since they had such a determined look on their faces.

“Now shall we go grab some food?” Gojo kindly questioned leading the same two students to now express two huge grins while shouting out their preferred meal for tonight.

“Beef!”

“Sushi!”

“Leave it all to me!” Gojo excitedly stated with two thumbs up before turning to his two other students, who were waiting on the sidelines. “And you guys?” Gojo asked with the same huge grin that Itadori and Kugisaki were expressing.

“I don’t really mind,” you answered in a casual tone before turning to look at FUshiguro, who was suddenly randomly scrolling through his phone with a bored but somewhat irritated expression on his face, causing you to wonder what he was reading or finding that made him have a scowl on his face.

Taking you by the arm, Gojo started walking off with you, Itadori and Kugisaki leaving Fushiguro behind, who had just realised that you all were walking away once he heard his teacher say ‘okay, let’s go’.

“Oh, I forgot about my biggest haul of the day. Hey, you, go fetch my things,” Kugisaki said in a demanding tone, as she decided to be the leader of the group since she was walking in front of everyone.

“Huh? Why should I do it? I thought we were even,” Itadori complained, as he didn’t want to get the items that were left in the coin locker back at Harajuku.

“We won thanks to my cursed energy. Got a problem with that?” Kugisaki countered back, as she confidently continued walking in front of all of you like she would know where the restaurant Gojo was taking you all was.

“What about my raw strength?” Itadori argued, leading you to wonder what he did during the time he was the at the abandoned building with Kugisaki to mention about his immense but strange strength.

“Your monstrous power from eating weird shit?” Kugisaki shouted as she was implicating the cursed finger that Itadori swallowed as a reason for Itadori’s strength.

“It’s not just that! Right, Fushiguro, Gojo?” Itadori asked as he turned to you and Fushguro, only to find the male student with a frown on his face as he looked to the side.

“Huh? What’s the matter, Fushiguro?” Itadori questioned, as he wasn’t sure on why Fushiguro seemed to be moodier than he originally was.

“Nothing,” Fushiguro bluntly answered, not making his answer very convincing for you, Itadori, Kugisaki and Gojo leading your teacher to think it was the best time to tease his shikigami-user student.

“He’s pouting because he didn’t get to join in,” Gojo mentioned with a sly smile, which caused Kugisaki to lean back with her hand on her lips to cover her laugh.

“What a child,” Kugisaki teased, causing Fushiguro to groan in frustration before giving the female sorcerer with an irritated glare which led to Itadori laughing at the facial expression, leaving you to stay silent as you watched the scene in front of you.

‘But I’ll make sure you have the most normal life as you possibly can, so make sure you’re not alone in this world like I am Y/N, I want you to be happy even when we’re both stuck with this burden!’

“Yeah mother, I’m trying,” you whispered before continuing to walk with everyone to wherever you all were heading off to without realising the events that will occur in the future.

1K notes · View notes

possiamo-andare · 3 years

Text

Just You (5)

JJ x Reader x Rafe (love triangle)

MASTERLIST

word count: 7.4k

a/n: you know I had to sprinkle a couple of jane austen references here and there ;)

The Midsummer festival had been celebrated at the Cameron household for decades, if not longer. Their family was one of the oldest in the small town of Outer Banks and it became tradition for Rose Cameron to organize the event. She spent a majority of her year planning for one night of festivities, relying only on her close friends for help. She bore the brunt of the work, deciding on the theme, caterers, decorations, live band, venue, and so on. After all was said and done, Rose slept for a week, exhausted from all the planning. At one point in her and Ward’s marriage, she had almost decided against planning it at all since the task was so stressful. But she had pushed on, determined to make this year’s Midsummer festival the best one yet.

And, in theory, she succeeded. This year’s theme was regency; an idea that slipped into her mind after she had watched Pride and Prejudice for the first time. Rose had a taste for the finer things in life and although Ward gave her everything he could, she did grow envious of the women who lived in the regency era and got to live in exquisite dresses. So, with further support from her friends, Rose handed out invitations to Outer Banks’s elite, citing on the invitation that this year was regency themed. Now, all she needed to do was plan the festival.

She decided to host the festival in a beautiful hall called the DeClaire Hall. Most of the time, the Midsummer festival was hosted merely from their big backyard that spanned acres of land. But Rose wanted to outdo herself and prove to the snobby PTA moms that she had what it took to host an event for the town. This hall was one of the only ones in Outer Banks and it was rarely used, mostly because the Outer Banks’s Historical Society deemed it a national landmark. It had been a hotel for the elite some 120 years ago and it had not been used in the last fifty. But it was beautiful, the original marble and vinyl floors still in great condition, and Rose knew the festival had to be thrown here. So, with permits from the city council and Historian Society, Rose began planning the Midsummer festival at the DeClaire Hall.

Once word spread of where the festival was being held, everyone was gossiping about it. All the Kooks, even the ones who thought they were too good for the Midsummer festival, had RSVP'd. Well, everyone except Y/N’s parents.

“You’re not going?” Y/N grumbled, entering her kitchen with loud stomps of her feet. She had just got off the phone with Sarah. who had mentioned to Y/N that her parents had never RSVP’d.

“Your father and I decided that none of us are going.” Y/N’s mother spoke sweetly, cutting her daughter's sandwich in half. She placed her plate on the table, but Y/N made no move to sit.

“Why?” Y/N stood tall, watching as her mom and dad walked around the kitchen, preparing lunch. Her siblings were at the table, eating, but she promised herself to go on a hunger strike until her parents let her go.

Her father stopped for a moment and looked up from his plate. “Sweetie, why do you wanna go to a party like that anyways?”

Y/N furrowed her brow. “What do you mean?”

This time, Y/N’s mom spoke. “You said it yourself a couple days ago; the Cameron’s have been nothing but unkind to you since you got here.”

“But not Sarah! She’s been nothing but nice.” Y/N felt a deep urge to defend her friend from her parent’s hurtful words.

“Yes, Sarah is lovely but I’m not talking about her.” Y/N’s dad began. “I’m talking about Rose Cameron, who didn’t let your mom join the PTA and called your mom names behind her back. And Ward Cameron, who bad mouthed me to the country club so I wouldn’t get in. And let’s not even talk about how rude Rafe Cameron has been to you.”

Y/N bit her lip, shuddering at even the mention of Rafe’s name. “Seriously? Firstly, mom didn’t even want to join the PTA. She hates those snobby women. And you,” Y/N points to her dad. “You don’t even like golf. It’s bad for the environment.”

Y/N watched her mom roll her eyes. “That’s not the point, Y/N. Even if we don’t want to do those things, we should at least have the choice.”

Y/N sighed, crossing her arms over her chest. She knew her parents, in some ways, were right but she still wanted to go. She had never dressed but before and she wanted to feel like a princess for at least one night. “But I wanna go. I already stick out like a sore thumb in this town, I just want to fit in for one night.”

Y/N’s parents glanced at each other, sorrowful looks on their faces. They hated seeing their daughter so upset and tried to swallow their own disgust. Finally, after looking at each other for a moment, their eyes returned to Y/N.

Y/N’s mom spoke first. “If you go, promise me you’ll be careful.”

Y/N’s eyes lit up. “I promise.”

Y/N’s mom forced a smile, unsure on whether she made the right decision. She wanted her daughter to be happy, but she also wanted to protect her daughter from the Cameron’s bitterness. “Okay, then you can go.”

Sarah had bought five regency themed dresses for the Midsummer festival. She had the first two tailored, a white and pink one but, when they didn’t look the way she wanted, she custom ordered another three from a small business on the mainland. The three dresses; a blue, green, and yellow one, had been shipped from the mainland to OBX in a matter of days and had come in just on time. Literally. The morning of the festival, a frantic delivery man dropped them off at the Cameron house. This was literally Sarah's last hope. If none of them looked good on her, she would just not show up.

Thankfully, the blue one fit perfectly and looked like a dream on her. It was a sky-blue silk dress that flowed down to her feet. The sleeves, which were this blue lace material, ended just above her elbows. The dress, although flowy, was cinched just a little at the waist by a ribbon. It looked absolutely stunning on Sarah and Y/N made sure to tell her the second she saw her friend.

“You look gorgeous.” Y/N spoke sweetly, marvelling at even how Sarah’s hair was styled. It was in this half up, half down hairdo; the top pieces of her hair held together by the same fabric of her dress.

Sarah blushed, shaking her head. “Have you seen yourself?”

Y/N had and even she had to admit that she was blown away. Sarah had let her choose from all the dresses she had, and Y/N decided on the white one. It was of the same style as Sarah’s dress but much more elegant. Sarah didn’t think she could pull it off but as she looked at Y/N, she knew her friend made a good choice. It was a white satin dress with short sleeves but, over the satin dress, lace was decorated. Stitched into the lace were small red flowers littering the dress. It was beautiful and complemented Y/N so well.

Not to mention, Y/N’s hair looked breathtaking. It was a simple style but matched the sophisticated theme of the festival. The two front pieces of Y/N’s hair were pulled back, the only thing holding them together was the same red flowers that decorated her gown. She passed Sarah for a moment, looking at herself one more time in the full-length mirror. She was in awe of how she looked.

Y/N rarely had an occasion where she could dress up this elegantly. At her old school, she had been invited to prom by a senior and went with him, dressing up in a pink floor length gown, but that had been years ago. Besides, she didn’t exactly have the best time since the senior that invited her never even asked her to dance, too busy with his own friend group to care if she was having fun.

Y/N shook off that awkward memory. This time it would be different. This time she was going to a party with someone who genuinely liked her. She had a feeling that she was going to have a different experience at this party.

“Sarah!” Rose called from downstairs, momentarily stopping Sarah and Y/N’s conversation. “It’s time to take pictures!”

Sarah looks to her bedroom door, then back at her friend. “Ready?”

Y/N nodded, a slight flutter in her chest. She knew Rafe would be down there, and she wondered, for a moment, what he would think of her dress. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

Unfortunately, Rafe was concerned with other matters. As Y/N and Sarah made their way downstairs, Rafe stood uncomfortably in his father’s study. They had been in there for five unbearable minutes. Rafe dreaded every time his dad had to speak to him alone because he knew it’d only spark an argument. They rarely got along; Ward being too tough on Rafe and Rafe constantly looking for validation from his father.

“You’re going into your first year of university in the fall and you have no plan.” Ward said, rather matter-of-factly.

Rafe gulped. Against his father’s approval, Rafe enrolled in the business program at the University of North Carolina. His father wanted him to enroll in a science program, which he thought was more structured. But Rafe wanted to own his own business someday, just like his dad. Besides, although he was good at science, he didn’t enjoy it the way he enjoyed the business classes he took in high school. What Ward didn’t know was that Rafe had a plan, he was just afraid to share it with his father for fear that his father would disapprove and eventually stop helping him pay for school. Rafe couldn’t do it alone and he knew his dad’s money would help.

“I’m taking courses that will help me graduate. I promise I know what I’m doing dad.”

Rafe pulled at the collar of his shirt. He wore a stunning but simple suit. He wore a white dress shirt, the two top buttons unbuttoned for comfort rather than for style, and a black fitted blazer. The gold cufflinks Rose gifted him shone against the light in his dad’s study. The most annoying part of his outfit definitely had to be the sleeves. There were annoying frills at the edge of them, some type of embroidered pattern sewn into the sleeves. It was supposed to scream regency, he remembered Rose saying, but all he wanted to do was scream bloody murder.

“I’m giving you one year Rafe, if you don’t have a plan by then,” Ward sighed, massaging his temples. Rafe grew sad at the idea that he was stressing his dad out by simply following his dreams. “I’m cutting you off.”

Rafe didn’t try to protest. He knew there was nothing he could do to change his dad’s mind. All he could do was prove to his dad that he made the right decision. He had to be the best and he had to outperform everyone in his class. That way, his dad would be proud of him and support him in university.

Rafe only nodded at what his father said, making no effort to even respond. Over the years, he figured it was best to just let his father get the last word.

There was a knock on the door before any more words could be exchanged between the two. Ward, knowing that it was probably his wife, welcomed the person inside. The door opened slightly, only enough for the person to peek their head through. It was, in fact, Rose. Rafe smiled, remembering to make sure it looked like he was having fun. Rose had gone through all this trouble to plan this festival, the least he could do was play along.

“Oh, honey, we’re taking some pictures before we leave.” Rose’s voice was quiet and mellow, not wanting to disturb whatever conversation Rafe was having with his father.

Ward smiled, nodding sweetly to his wife. “We’ll be right there.”

Rose nods, leaving the door slightly ajar so Rafe and Ward can follow after her. Ward makes his way towards the door, glaring at Rafe.

His words are just as menacing as his glare. “Do not disappoint me.”

Rafe doesn’t even nod this time. He’s too afraid. He knows, not only by his dad’s glare, but also by how his dad leaves the room, that he is serious. More serious than he’s ever been. Rafe doesn’t move for a moment, almost too nervous to take the first step. His legs feel like jelly, and he knows that if he doesn’t calm down soon, he might faint. He wants his dad to be proud of him so badly, that he’s ready to work himself to the bone. His dad has never so much as given him a nod of approval before and he would be lying if he said it wasn’t something he craved. He yearned for the day when his dad would smile at him, telling Rafe he was proud of him.

But that day was not today, and Rafe knew he had to get over it. One day, it may happen, but he had to push all that down for tonight. Tonight, was a night to support Rose and all the hard work that went into planning a celebration like this. So, Rafe began to walk towards the door of his dad’s study, trying to forget about the conversation he just had with his dad.

As he exited the study, he straightened his collar. He felt very uncomfortable in such a fancy suit, but he tried to focus on the afterparty, something he was a little more excited for. Sure, Y/N was going but he knew JJ was jealous and would try to keep them apart all evening. All he had to do was tolerate her now and on the way to the hall and after that, he would not have to think of her for the rest of the night.

Unfortunately, things never go Rafe’s way. The second he walked outside, he felt as though the wind had been knocked out of him. Rose was taking pictures of everyone in their front garden, mentioning to Rafe before that her tulips would look great as a background piece. He had figured that since no one seemed to be in the house, they were all outside. He was right, but at what cost? Well, the cost was his sanity.

She stood there as if it was another normal day. As if she dressed like that every day. Rafe was utterly speechless. How could she be doing something as mundane as talking to Sarah but look so stunning? This was the first time he envied JJ Maybank. Although Rafe had everything a guy could ask for, JJ got the ultimate prize; he got to escort Y/N to the Midsummer festival. He got to intertwine their hands and show her off. He was the one who could dance with her and hold her and tell her how breathtaking she looked. All Rafe could do was watch (more like stare) and pretend to not notice the most beautiful woman in the room.

He hesitated for a moment. His eyes were trained on her dress instead of her face, fearing he would blush too much and make his attraction toward her obvious. Unfortunately, looking at her dress didn’t help. The fabric blew in the wind, enhancing the silhouette of her body. Ultimately, Rafe just looked away. Every moment he looked at her was another moment he was reminded that she was not his.

“Rafe!” Rose called, watching as Rafe stood away from the group. His head was down and only when she called did, he turns it up slightly. “Come over here and take some pictures!”

Rafe nodded, realizing her eyes were probably on him now. He gulped nervously. “O-okay.”

Rose frowned, confused at Rafe’s shy behaviour. She looked to Ward, who was typing something on his phone. She knew how rocky Ward and Rafe’s relationship was and knew that whenever they entered Ward’s study, Rafe would come out a meek boy. She figured Ward had done something again to hurt Rafe. Although this was true, it was not the real reason Rafe was acting so shy.

“What did you say to him?” Rose whispered to Ward once his phone was tucked away.

Ward rolled his eyes. “He needs some tough love, that boy.”

Rose was fuming but tried to keep her cool. Just for this one night. “I swear Ward, this is my day. Do not ruin it.”

Ward smirked, leaning down to kiss his wife on her cheek. “Of course, not darling. Everything will go your way tonight.”

If only they knew what was to come.

JJ Maybank was nervous. He swears, before he met Y/N, he was never an anxious person. Now he seemed to be panicking all the time. He knew it was because of Y/N. She was one of the best parts of his life right now and JJ had a dangerous pattern of ruining all the good things in his life. He knew it was because he was always scared of losing someone or something so special to him and never recovering. This was especially true with Y/N. Although they were not official, they had hung out basically every day since they met, and JJ’s feelings had become clear. He wanted to be her boyfriend.

And tonight, if everything went well, he would ask Y/N to be his girlfriend. He had never moved this slow with a girl before, but he was willing to try. He didn’t want to scare her off, so he played it safe.

Except, for right now. Agreeing to go to the Midsummer festival was probably the least safe thing JJ could do. He was not accepted by the Kooks, his reputation preceding him. He was rarely on his best behaviour when Kooks were involved so he was very nervous that he would somehow ruin the evening for Y/N. He could tell she had been excited for this festival, and he was sure that if he ruined the night for her, she would never want to be with him. So, with a deep breath, JJ promised himself that no matter what, he’d be on his best behaviour.

And then he saw Y/N exit Ward Cameron’s car.

She stood out like a sore thumb. None of the other girls could compare to her. JJ felt time freeze for a moment as he looked at the most beautiful girl in the world. Her white dress fitted her perfectly, it was as if it was made for her. Her hair made her look ethereal, like a fairy glowing in the dimming light. The festival was supposed to start right as the sun set so many people were already using flashlights so they could see the path to the entrance of the hall but not JJ. Y/N was his flashlight, illuminating not only herself but his entire life.

Once their eyes met, it was fireworks. JJ felt his heart skip a beat, the reality of her beauty setting in. He didn’t have to smile at her, he’d been smiling since she stepped out of the car. When she registered that it was JJ who was wearing the goofy grin, she smiled right back.

Although JJ thought Y/N looked beautiful, Y/N thought JJ looked handsome. He wore a black button up with black blazer and slacks. The collar of his shirt was embroidered with white flowers and lace, seeming to match Y/N without knowing. The usual messy hair look he wore so well was brushed back and styled. All the dirt and grime on his face was gone. It was like looking at a new JJ. A JJ that Y/N never thought she would get to see.

Once she’s an arm’s length away, JJ’s arms stretch out towards her, and she gladly accepts the hug. They both seem excited but nervous to be here. Even though Y/N is technically a Kook, she feels out of place. She knows that everyone is looking at her with disdain; knowing her family is from new money. Everyone except JJ and Sarah.

“You look beautiful.” JJ remarks as they pull away from each other.

“Thanks, J. You don’t look so bad yourself.” Y/N blushes, looping her arm around JJ. “Where’d you get that suit?”

JJ smirked. “Sarah lent it to me.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, glancing at Sarah. She was being escorted inside by John B. Y/N reminded herself to thank Sarah again. The festival is starting and every woman with a date is being escorted in now. “Shall we?”

JJ nods, tilting his chin up higher. “Yes, m’lady.”

Whatever image Y/N had in her mind of how the DeClaire Hall would look quickly vanished once they were inside. Large, tall marble pillars stood tall in every corner of the room. They were white, reflecting off the marble walls and vinyl floors. The middle of the hall was empty, only a few couples dancing to the melody of a violin playing. The tables were scattered along the outer part of the hall, decorated with white linen and golden embellishments. Both Y/N and JJ were astonished that Rose pulled it off. It was as if Y/N and JJ had been transported to the regency time period, watching in awe as every person seemed to be playing a character. The women wore long, bright dresses while the men were styled in fitted but elegant suits. Sarah was right; Rose really did go all out for this celebration.

“Woah.” JJ gasped. He had never seen something like this before. Although he was in awe, he was still a little bitter. The Kooks had all this money to spend on a festival that didn’t really matter but couldn’t donate some money to fix up JJ’s school or help out the dirt poor Pogues? He was bitter at the thought of all these Kooks enjoying themselves while his friends like Kie and Pope sat at home.

Y/N nodded; her eyes trained on Rafe. She couldn’t help herself. She wished he didn’t look so good but there he was, standing 20 feet away and looking like a dream. “Yeah, woah is right.”

Before any more words could be exchanged, the soft music stopped, and Rose entered the dance floor. She stood tall, the train of her yellow dress trailing behind her. “Hello everyone!” She had begun to speak but instead of her normal voice, she pretended to put on an English accent. “Thank you for coming to the ninety fifth anniversary of the Midsummer festival!”

Y/N snickered, leaning towards JJ’s ear. “This can’t be real.”

JJ smirked at her, his voice lowering. “We call them Kooks for a reason.”

“Shortly, the festivities will commence but before then, let us go over some ground rules.” Rose paused for a moment, waiting until everyone quieted down. “Firstly, young ladies will not stand up for more than two consecutive dances with the same partner. Secondly, there will be no vulgarity of any sort. And lastly, have a wondrous time!” The last sentence was spoken in her own words, the English accent no longer present in her voice.

Everyone seemed to cheer, some even clinking their champagne glasses together. The music began again, a soft melody flowing throughout the hall. Although everyone else seemed to be taking this seriously, waltzing with their partner and speaking in an English accent, Y/N and JJ were not.

JJ bowed, a goofy grin on his face. “M’lady, would you care to dance?” His southern accent was hard to disguise, even under a fake and terrible English accent.

Y/N giggled, curtsying slightly. “Why, of course!” Her hands rested in JJ’s as he led her to the middle of the hall. With anyone else, she would feel embarrassed, but it was so fun being with JJ that she didn’t care what other people thought of her.

As they pushed past crowds of Kooks, all dressed up in the finest clothing she ever saw, JJ leaned down, his breath fanning against her neck. “This has to be the stupidest shit I’ve ever done.”

Y/N smirked, looking up at him. Their lips were inches apart and she had the sudden urge to kiss him. “That can’t be true.”

JJ pouted, finally finding an open spot for them to sway to the music. He twirled Y/N around, watching in awe as her smile only grew wider. He swore he could watch her like this all day. “You’re right, it’s not.” He knew the stupidest thing he’d ever done was not kiss her sooner.

Y/N grew nervous, unsure of how to actually dance with a partner. She had never done this before. Thankfully, JJ did not hesitate like she did. She watched as he carefully placed one hand on her waist as the other clasped onto her hand. She let her other hand fall to the side, unsure of what to do next.

She looked up at JJ sheepishly. “How do I do this?” There was an awkward giggle at the end as Y/N tried to hide behind her embarrassment.

JJ smirked, his hand leaving her waist for a moment and guiding her limp arm to his shoulder. “Hold me.” Once his hand returned to her waist, he pulled her body closer to him. He could feel the warmth of her chest against his which only made his heartbeat faster. They had never been this close. Never touched each other in such a delicate way.

Soon, the two of them swayed to the music, a lovestruck grin on both of their faces. Y/N wished she could capture this moment forever. She was sure no one else had ever made her feel like this. She felt so protected. So secure. She knew that if she could, she’d choose to be in JJ’s arms forever. She was the happiest she could ever be as she danced with JJ, swaying to a song about unrequited love.

But, about twenty feet away in the corner of the room, Rafe enviously watched as the girl he wanted most danced with another man.

The first two hours of the Midsummer festival went marvellous. Y/N and JJ seemed to be attached at the hip, dancing, drinking, and laughing together the entire time. It seemed that all the nerves the two of them had at the beginning of the night dwindled down when they were with each other and had a few drinks. For Y/N, the best part was she had not run into Rafe once. He had been on the other side of the hall all night, drinking with his friends and dancing with a few girls. And although Y/N convinced herself that she was not watching him, she couldn’t help but feel a tad envious seeing Rafe dance with a couple girls.

The rules that Rose spoke about at the beginning of the night were more serious than Y/N and JJ initially thought. They thought it was all for show, just another way for the night to feel more realistic. But in reality, Rose would not let women dance with the same man consecutively. It was odd the first time she caught JJ and Y/N dancing, both of them ready to lie just so they could dance together again, but Rose shooed them away, telling them to wait for the next song to come on before they danced together again.

After the fourth time of Y/N and JJ trying to sneak past Rose and being caught red handed, they decided to just wait it out. How long could one song be?

“JJ,” Y/N cooed, sitting down at their table. They were seated with Sarah and John B at table two while Rose, Ward, and their friends were seated at table one. “Can you get me a glass of water?”

JJ smirked, crouched down to meet Y/N’s eyeline. “I’ve worn you out already?”

Y/N rolled her eyes, a devious glint in her eyes. “I’m sorry I don’t have the stamina to drink and dance for two hours.”

JJ shrugged, standing up again. “Fine, but you owe me a dance after. That line is so long and I’m gonna have to make conversation with those snooty PTA moms.”

Y/N giggled. “Well, if you come back with a cold glass of water, I’ll do more than dance with you.”

It was supposed to be a teasing comment and it was, but there was a serious undertone to the way she talked. She had waited too long to kiss JJ. If he could just stop being a gentleman for one moment.

JJ’s back straightened, his brows raised. He slightly nods, as if he’s tipping his nonexistent hat in her direction. “I’ll be right back.”

Y/N watches in amusement as JJ scurries across the hall, impatiently waiting in the long ass line. Y/N sighs, thinking she’ll be able to relax for a moment. Although she loves dancing with JJ, she needs to rest her feet. Unfortunately, before she can properly rest, Sarah and John B rush towards her.

“What did you say to JJ that got him so riled up? That man basically ran to the bar.” John B jokes, glancing at his friend. Some of the PTA moms began talking to JJ and he watches as his friend uncomfortably tries to make conversation.

“Nothing. I’m just waiting until we can dance again.” Y/N smirks, watching JJ from across the hall as well.

“But the waltz is on next, and JJ won’t be back in time!” Sarah frowns, glancing at JJ before her gaze returns to Y/N.

Y/N shrugs. She knew her and Sarah promised to dance the waltz together with their partners, but Y/N wasn’t too worried. She figured the waltz would be played many times that night and they’d dance it next time it came on. She tried to reassure Sarah by saying so, but Sarah only frowned deeper.

“No, I’m leaving in, like, twenty minutes. Rafe and I have to start setting everything up at our house for the afterparty. It starts in an hour.” Sarah groaned.

Y/N frowned, now a little upset as well that they wouldn’t be able to fulfill their promise. “I’m sorry. I wish I could dance with you guys; I do.”

It seemed that the second those words left Y/N’s mouth, Sarah’s eyes lit up and she was no longer frowning. “Maybe you can.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “JJ’s not leaving that line now. I promised him something if he got me some water.”

Sarah giggled, instantly knowing what Y/N was implying. “No, silly. Not JJ. Someone else.” But before Y/N could ask her who she had in mind, Sarah dashed off, disappearing into the crowd of people gathered on the other side of the hall.

Y/N looked to John B, getting up from her seat. Her feet didn’t hurt as much anymore, the little rest she took had helped a lot. “What’s she up to?”

John B shrugged, a smug grin on his lips. “I never know.”

Y/N giggled at John B’s little remark because it was so true. Sarah was a very creative person and someone Y/N could go to whenever she was having a problem. Sarah always came up with the best solutions.

Except for now. Sarah was Y/N’s best friend in OBX but, when she emerged from the crowd tugging on the sleeve of a familiar face, Y/N wished Sarah didn’t have these creative plans. The person she was dragging along was Rafe. She had somehow looped Rafe into this. The last person Y/N wanted to see tonight. He looked confused and it was clear to Y/N that Sarah had not let Rafe in on her plan. This comforted her a little; knowing Rafe would be just as mortified.

When they reached about six feet away from Y/N and John B, Rafe finally understood what was about to happen. Y/N was right, he looked mortified. Rafe didn’t feel as though mortified was the right word. Humiliated. Nauseous. Literally any word that would describe how shitty he felt the second his eyes met Y/N’s.

He tried to run away; he really did. He stopped walking the second he realized what was going on. Sarah was only tugging on him because he let her. If he really wanted to, he could overpower her in seconds. And that’s what he did. He stopped in his tracks, refusing to move even as Sarah pulled harder on his sleeve.

“C’mon, she’s, my friend.” Sarah pleaded, her grasp on Rafe tightening.

Rafe shook his head, glancing Y/N’s way once more. He quickly grew embarrassed that her eyes were still on him and immediately looked back to Sarah. “Well, she’s not my friend.”

Sarah sighed, her lips in a deep pout. “Whatever weird energy you have for her, swallow it. Just for one dance.”

Rafe wanted to argue. He wanted to say that they shared no weird energy. That he just didn’t care for that hippie. But his sister knew him too well and although she might not have noticed his feelings for Y/N fully, she did register some tension between them. Rafe hated lying to his sister so, with a deep breath and a quick roll of his eyes, he agreed. It was just one dance. What’s the worst that could happen?

Y/N, on the other hand, was less flexible than Rafe. The second Sarah was close enough to hear, Y/N voiced her disdain. Which was bold since Rafe was standing in front of her.

“No way. I’m not getting a pity dance from your brother.”

Rafe scoffed, rolling his eyes for what seemed like the tenth time tonight. “A thank you would suffice.”

Y/N shook her head. “Oh, a thank you?” She repeated, her blood boiling. How could someone be so attractive yet so annoying at the same time. “How about this as a thank you?” Without even thinking, Y/N raised her hand and stuck her middle finger in the air defiantly.

Y/N’s anger only made him cockier. Call Rafe a coward all you want but he was damn good at hiding behind anger to protect his own feelings. “Not very ladylike, is it? Especially in this time period.”

“You know what is appropriate in this time period though?” Y/N grumbled. “The guillotine.”

Before Rafe could come up with an intelligent rebuttal, John B cut through the tension by stepping in between the two of them. It was getting pretty heated, and John B was sure Y/N was about to punch him. “Hey guys! The waltz should be on any minute so can we please put a pin in this and just have a fun time?”

Y/N stared at Rafe, her heart fluttering a little at how rosy his cheeks had gotten during their conversation. Although he had said such terrible things, somehow, she knew he had not meant any of it. So, with a steady breath, she outstretched her hand. She had a tiny smile on her lips and this time, it wasn’t forced.

“I’m willing to put it aside if you’re willing to dance with me.”

Rafe gulped, looking at her outstretched hand and gingerly taking it. “Fine.” It was all he could muster out. He was so nervous, and it didn’t help that this was the first time they had touched. She had always felt so far away from him and now their hands were intertwined. Her skin felt soft against his and he swore he felt a buzz of electricity course through him the second their hands touched.

Y/N could feel it too. She tried to ignore it, blaming it on static electricity or anything else. She would blame it on the wind before she would conclude that there was some part of her that was drawn to Rafe Cameron. They both stayed speechless and even as they approached the middle of the hall where everyone was dancing, they barely made an effort to look at each other. Everything felt so tense the second their hands touched.

Finally, the music died down for a moment. The waltz was the next song and Y/N prepared herself mentally. No matter what her brain told her, she did not feel anything for Rafe. She liked JJ. But as the music began and Rafe made the first move, she was not so sure. His hands were gentle but hesitant, scared to place his hand on her hip. They were in each other’s space. Y/N had never been this close to him. She breathed in through her nose, smelling his wonderful cologne.

“You’re gonna have to hold me, you know that right?” Her tone comes off as sarcastic because it’s the only one she’s familiar with around Rafe.

Rafe rolls his eyes. “Uh, yeah. I know.” He places one hand on Y/N’s hip, swallowing harshly before reaching out with his other hand and holding onto her hand. Their thumbs are intertwined, a small gesture that causes Rafe’s stomach to stir.

When the music starts, it’s soft and low at first and Y/N expects them to just sway. She had really only been swaying when she danced with JJ since they both weren’t sure how to formally dance. But Rafe had been to enough of these festivals to know how to lead a girl through a dance. So, as the music’s pace began to grow, Rafe led Y/N across the floor. Their feet seemed to be at the same pace, quietly shuffling like everyone else. He wasn’t going too fast like Y/N expected and she was grateful for it. But she was nervous nonetheless and looked to her feet so she wouldn’t accidentally step on Rafe’s toes.

Rafe chuckled at Y/N’s nervousness. He couldn’t stop thinking that she was so cute. “You have to look at your partner when you’re dancing with them.” The tone was more teasing than he wanted it to be.

Y/N looked up, blushing at her naivety. “Um, I’m afraid I’m gonna fall.”

She was being vulnerable with him. Sure, it was a very small step, but it was a step forward, nonetheless. Rafe beamed, endeared at her bashfulness. She had never been this way with him. He was taking her out of her comfort zone. “I promise you won’t step on my toes. And if you do, I won’t mind.”

Y/N gives Rafe a bashful smile. She’s looking at him while they dance now, never breaking eye contact. But Rafe is the bashful one now and continuously finds himself looking away. He’s so nervous. She’s looking at him. She’s really looking at him. He has to wonder; does she like what she sees?

“Now look at who's not focusing on their partner.” Y/N’s tone is teasing, and he can’t help but blush.

Rafe says the first thing that comes to his head. “It’s hard to look at someone so beautiful and not blush.”

This only makes the two of them blush more. Y/N wants to tell Rafe she thinks he’s beautiful too. She wants to ask him how they could be mean to each other one moment and all bashful the next. She wants to ask him if he’s ever felt like this with anyone else. She wants to know how he feels. But before she gets a chance to do any of that, they’re pulled apart.

JJ was going to let it go. He was going to just wait in that stupid line and get her a glass of water. He even wasn’t going to complain that Rafe and Y/N were dancing even though he was sure he would burst from jealousy. He convinced himself that Y/N was probably just trying to be polite and Rafe was the one to blame. But when he saw that Rafe had made her smile like that, a smile he had never seen her use, his blood boiled and all he saw was red. He left the line, not even saying goodbye to those snobby PTA moms, and bolted to the centre of the room where they were dancing. He knew that pulling Rafe by the collar would cause a scene. And he knew he promised himself that he was going to be on his best behaviour, but he couldn’t help himself. Rafe was not about to take the only good thing in his life right now. He cared so deeply for Y/N, and he wasn’t gonna let Rafe Cameron, of all people, ruin it. So, he did the only thing he knew; he used his fists.

Rafe choked on his collar as JJ pulled him off of Y/N. He fell backwards, a surprised gasp leaving his lips before his back hit the ground. Before Rafe could even defend himself, JJ was on top of the poor boy and punching him. The only thing Rafe could do was shield his face as JJ tried his best to punch Rafe.

Y/N was mortified. She could not believe this was happening. She had never seen JJ so angry, let alone at Rafe. Sure, JJ wasn’t the biggest fan of Kooks but to fist fight one? Besides, she couldn’t remember a time when JJ mentioned such disdain for Rafe. But that didn’t matter now. She needed to intervene.

“JJ! Stop!” She tried yelling, her voice piercing through the air. The music had stopped, and many people had begun congregating around them to see what all the fuss was about. It was no use though, even Y/N’s yelling did not stop JJ.

The only thing that stopped JJ was John B. As JJ threw his fifth punch, John B approached JJ and pulled him away from Rafe. JJ fought against John B, trying to free himself from his friend’s grasp but it was no use. John B held him in a way that was difficult for JJ to get out of.

“Let me go, bro!” JJ continued to struggle as John B’s grasp, unaware that all eyes were on him.

“Dude, stop!” John B tightened his grip on JJ.

JJ finally stopped struggling, noticing that the room got very quiet. Suddenly, his actions came rushing to him and he realized the mistake he made. When John B felt JJ relax, he finally let go. He was unsure what his friend would do but he knew he had to be there just in case.

Everyone was looking at JJ, their judgemental stares burning holes onto his skin. He felt so exposed, so embarrassed that strangers had seen him like that. But he was more worried about Y/N. He knew he made a mistake and wasn’t sure how she’d react. Knowing her, it wasn’t going to be good.

And when he looked at her, her eyes brimming with tears, he knew he had fucked up big time. She was standing off to the side, standing beside Sarah who was trying to comfort her. JJ took a few steps towards her, his face pale.

“Y/N…” JJ began, the look on his face saying it all.

But Y/N didn’t care. She just wanted one perfect night. She had never seen this side of JJ but now that she had, she was afraid. She shook her head, backing away from him. “No, leave me alone.” And with that, she turned on her heels and walked farther and farther away from him.

Sarah stood there for a moment longer, dumbfounded. “JJ, I think you need to give her some space right now.”

JJ wanted to cry. Although he was embarrassed, it didn’t matter now. He had just ruined the only good thing in his life. The dangerous pattern had finally caught up to him.

taglist: @tovvaa @canyoubuymetoast @multisimpinghoe @devcarlsons @pogueslandia @theywantedplayer @lovelyxtom @milkywqze

#jj x you #jj x reader #jj one shot #jj fic #jj fanfiction #jj maybank #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron fic #rafe x reader #rafe fluff #rafe imagine #rafe cameron obx #obx kiara #outerbanks #outer banks fic #obx s2 #rafe cameron

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snacc-noir · 3 years

Note

Hello! For your prompt thing, maybe 3G? 👉👈 Please and thank you! 💜💜💜

3. “Babe! There you are!” “B-babe?”

G. Enemies AU

Adrienette I love u sm I was hoping someone would pick this combination

One of the many hair-pulling qualities of Adrien is his knack for surprises.

He’s the human (that’s still up for debate) embodiment of cold showers and other unpleasant sensations, like the moment when you run off to transform into Ladybug and the golden mop of hair and hostile glance is there—

And he’s always there, lurking in the corner of the locker room or somewhere during an akuma attack, withering at Marinette like their reoccurring inauspicious meetings are her fault;

like it’s his attempts to save the city that have been thwarted.

The audacity.

It’s the core of their not-so-friendly rivalry -- the evil reoccurring coincidence that drives Marinette (9/10 times friendly person and secretly Ladybug Marinette) insane. In fact, she doesn’t think there‘s anything left for the God-sculpted creation (he‘s hot - Insufferable, but hot. Her pride isn’t that loud) to do that can add to her ‘Why Adrien Agreste is a Nuisance’ list.

Oh, but how wrong she is.

“Babe! There you are!”

A second. A long second; a second where there’s confusion, conclusion, and confusion again. Marinette’s once-coolly leaning figure rests on the outskirts of their indoor basketball courts, hanging jaw formally chewing gum.

But now instead of watching a fanmade video about Chat Noir, she’s watching Adrien approach her with a beguiling smile (there’s no way that’s directed at her) and Miss Bustier a step shorter.

“B-babe?”

He slings an arm around her shoulders like he’s (never) done before, and she’s too frozen to react. “Sorry, I didn’t tell her we were doing this,” he tells their teacher, ignoring the gobsmacked expression to his left. “Look, Marinette, we’ve been caught.”

“Caught?!”

“Caught is right.” He construes the origin of her volume to match his sick role-play. “Miss Bustier keeps noticing us leaving together during akuma attacks and coming back at the same time from the same spots. Not to mention,” he says with a grin she had believed was saved to taunt her - then she realises that may as well be what he’s doing, “leaving for the bathroom at the same time—”

He winks.

Marinette looks up at him, disgust pulling the corner of her mouth. The confusion wears off and her thoughts sprint. Her lashes tremor at Miss Bustier as she reads her, but there’s only so much you can gage from a thin smile and clasped hands.

Then Adrien’s words catch up.

That’s her running off to be Ladybug.

That’s all her crafted lies and scheduled escapes so she can capture akuma with her dearest partner.

And Adrien’s been confronted about his tag-alongs to her escapades — and veiled it by the synthetic guise that they’re dating.

Oh he is not going there.

“Actually—”

His fingers are clipped to her waist, the soft pressure flaming her senses as he presses them in warning. She notices the way his lean figure is taped to her in their mutually loathed side-hug.

Then he re-freezes her by lowering his head, pushing back the dark lock of hair near her ear and hovering his lips in a gesture that jolts her heart up her throat. There, beside her skin, a warm, threatening whisper slices through her:

“Watch yourself. This benefits you.”

She swallows.

“Marinette, you can tell me,” Miss Bustier finally speaks. “I understand that your occasional arguments might cause a dent in your relationship. I actually confronted Adrien with my theory because I want to help you both overcome this negative tension. I know you work so well together.”

Ha!

She has no idea.

The Marinette stills. If she denies this nightmare, what’s left to make of their eerie timing in running off and coming back? How else can she explain walking out of a closet two minutes after Adrien?

Although she doesn’t understand Adrien’s reasons, there’s no way she’s about to unravel her superhero secret.

“Uh—” Marinette starts, “—Yes, I, um, we just didn’t want anyone to know. Especially since we’ve been pretty rocky since the start.”

Miss Bustier nods, a sympathetic look warming her face. She rubs Marinette’s shoulder and smiles.

“And that’s okay! I know you two have a lot of potential to make this relationship work, and I’m here for you!” Her joy blindsides her to the two grimaces before her. “You know, after I got into yoga I did a lot of training for relationship therapy for all kinds. I promise not to inform your other classmates if we can get you two sorted with some sessions.”

This—

This literally can’t get any worse.

Adrien’s grip on her waist squeezes, eliciting her to jerk a little closer in his side. They force tight smiles back at their teacher.

“That would be really great, actually. I think we need it,” Adrien says politely. “Right, babe.”

She stifles the cough. “Yeah, uh, sweetie.”

“That’s wonderful! I know it’ll be worth it. Those arguments will be gone in no time!”

Marinette squints, relapsing what on earth just happened as their teacher waltzes away. There aren’t even eyes on the other side of the court looking their way. It’s just her, Adrien, and their lack of distance.

She jumps away.

“Why’d you tell her that?!”

“Hey, I was saving your butt, too,” he snaps. “Why do you even follow me everywhere in the first place!?”

“You follow me.”

“That is not true! I have reasons for where I go!”

“Oh yeah?” She rises on her tiptoes, threatened by their height difference. “Well so do I!”

“Name one!”

“You name one!”

They fall into a terrible silence. Their jaws harden and their posture tenses. Their gazes entwine like an impossible knot.

A second. A long second.

“Whatever,” he breaks the tension, “see you at couple therapy.”

As Adrien - beautifully detested Adrien with his model walk and lean grace - struts away, Marinette sobers, clears the heat in mind, and glares him down.

She will find out his reasons. And she will prove they’re as insignificant as the way her heart swells at his attractive grin he throws her direction.

Honestly. The audacity.

#adrienette enemy au #😗#I am a sucker for enemy aus #if u can’t tell #also thanks kris for reasking xD #miraculous ladybug #adrinette #adrienette #ml fic #miraculous enemy au #enemy au #em writes #prompt me #ask #original content #kris-pines04

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genshinwriter111 · 3 years

Text

The Monstadt and Liyue boys: You are the victim of a killing game+you as the blackened

Diluc, Venti, Albedo, Chongyun, Kazuha, Childe, Aether, Xiao, Xingqiu, Zhongli, Scaramouche

Warnings: Blood, Death, Self-Hate, Self-Blaming, Depression Mentions, Swearing, Injury Detail, Execution Detail, All detail described is vivid, but original, slight mentions of suicidal intentions. Be warned, this fic is not for the faint of heart. I’m on mobile, so please scroll past if any of this triggers you.

Based off of Danganronpa, but not many spoilers for the games.

Gender Neutral (You/Yours, They/Them)

Ultimates will be put next to the GI characters names, and yours will be ‘(Ultimate Talent)’.

They still possess their visions

This may interfere with canon, but this is an AU so that doesn’t matter. Also it breaks some rules of Danganronpa, and again this a fanfiction so take that as you will.

The executions will be on a seperate line, if you’d prefer to skip the detail.

Requests are open! For Genshin Impact only at the moment.

Diluc, The Ultimate Winery Owner

Your body is found

Diluc had remained level headed throughout this ordeal, especially since you were there. He believed he had to protect you, and would do anything for you to both escape. It was just another day, during free time when the body announcement played. He sighed, knowing how upset you’d be, you were usually one of the unlucky few that ran into the body first. Unlike usual, you hadn’t ran off to find him. “Maybe they haven’t found it yet..” He muttered, his mind not dare travelling to the darkest assumption. As he walked, he became more concerned. Hopefully, you were just asleep in your dorm and had missed the announcement. As Diluc approached the area, he noticed the guilty glances of others. He was confused, and upon entering the room, he froze. He didn’t want to believe it. There you were, chest slashed open. It was a gruesome sight, he felt sick. He rushed to your side, not wanting to believe this was real. But when he grabbed your arm, and it was cold. He blamed himself, he was meant to protect you. He didn’t want to lose you too. But he did, and he snapped. Nobody saw him until the trial. And when your killer was found out? Well, he almost killed them himself. It wouldn’t be surprising if he turned into a blackened.

You are the Blackened.

“And that would make the killer, (Full Name).” One of the others had announced. Your boyfriend stared at you, in denial. You let out a laugh. “Oh, well done. You got it right.” You seemed nonchalant about it, and shrugged. The voting was quickly dealt, despite Diluc’s protests. When Monokuma announced that yes, it was you, Diluc still couldn’t believe it. He walked over to you. “Why?” He questioned, but his voice was breaking. “Well, I wasn’t planning on getting caught. I wanted us out of here, no matter the cost.” You said with a sigh. You seemed frustrated your plan hadn’t gone through. He stared at you, with shock. He didn’t believe it, he never would. But he knew what came next, you’d both seen it before. He didn’t give the others a chance to get near you, and embraced you. You gave smiled one final time at the Ultimate Winery Owner, before the chain locked around your neck, ripping you out his arms.

Your Execution.

Everyone was silent, as it started, but Diluc stared blankly, and if it wasn’t clear, he was in silent tears. He didn’t want to watch this, but it was like he was in a trance. You were tied down to a chair, something that looked like it was from an older time. There were mumbles about how this would go, most of the survivors being confused. That was until wine bottles were smashed against the ground near you, and he knew what was coming next. He wanted to rush in, and try stopping it, but it was like you could sense his thoughts, and practically froze him with a glare. The next part, broke the man, fully. A match was thrown into the spilled alcohol, and it engulfed the area in flames. Your screams and pleas destroyed whatever happiness he had left. And when the execution was over, he made a mental promise to be joining you soon.

Venti, The Ultimate Bard

Your body is found

The bard was always desperate for his freedom to be back, but he wouldn’t kill, no. Especially not if there was a chance you could be hurt. He’d developed an attachment to you throughout this, and you’d spend many nights in one another’s dorms. You’d listen as he strums his Lyre, one of the few things keeping you both sane through this hellhole. That all came crumbling down, as he was the first to find your body, and screamed. Others rushed in, and Venti was hyperventilating. He wouldn’t believe this, he couldn’t. He refused to leave your body’s side. As much as the way you were murdered made him disgusted to see, he just wanted his moments to say goodbye. “I’m so sorry, (Name)...I failed to protect someone again.” He sobbed out once the others had left to search for clues elsewhere. When the killer was announced, Venti sure did have a few choice words with them. He was screaming, and wouldn’t calm down. His composure was lost, and he wasn’t the same after losing you too.

You’re the blackened.

Venti couldn’t believe his eyes as your name was voted by everyone. And when it was comfirmed? The bard ran to you and clung to your body. He begged you for an answer, and when you said it was for his freedom? He sobbed. He said things he didn’t mean, and you knew he didn’t, not taking them to heart. His gaze was hidden from the monochrome bear, and you nodded at it. Signalling the end of your time. You knew there was no where to run, and you feared that the male you’d loved would be hurt if you made a break for it. You kissed Venti on the forehead, muttering your gentle apology and that you loved him. He mumbled an ‘I love you too’ and you knew he forgave you. But just as the words had left his mouth, you were ripped from him, now facing your death.

Your Execution.

Venti couldn’t watch, he knew you didn’t want him to. “I’m so sorry, (Name)..” He said under his breath, while crying. You couldn’t guess what would come next, when an instrument was shoved in your hands. If you messed up a note, the asphyxiation from the chain would only be slowed, not stopped. You just wanted this over with, and played to the best of your abilites. Venti covered his ears, he couldn’t listen or watch. When it was over, he dropped to his knees still sobbing, and it took one of the others dragging him to get him to move. He was rarely seen again, unless needed. There never was a spark in his eye, like before. Any melody the others heard when passing by was dark, it made them sad just hearing it.

Albedo, The Ultimate Alchemist

Your body is found

The two of you had developed a relationship, both having being considered ‘outcasts’ from the others. He would teach you of alchemy, and you would teach him (ultimate talent). You shared a gentle bond, even if at times it didn’t seem like you were all that close around the others, both minding your own business. It was a late night and you were in his ultimate lab, he calmly asked you to try this one thing he’d been working on, and you agreed, knowing he would never hurt you on purpose. You took the glass from him, and drank it. You soon felt your eyes grow heavy, and it was as if your pulse was slowing. Albedo gently called your name, concern written in his eyes. You couldn’t reply, seconds later, limply dropping against him. He felt panic rise, checking for any sign of life, and didn’t find it. In the trial, he was mostly silent. And upon his guilty judge? He accepted it, he was furious at himself, the one person that trusted him, died by his hands? Who wouldn’t that anger?

You are the blackened.

You laughed as your name was announced and Albedo stared. He didn’t want to believe it, but he did accept it. There was nothing he could change, nor do about this. He wished you’d just spoken to him, and told him to do it. He would have, especially since you did it so he would be free from all this. Your boyfriend approached you, and hugged you. The others muttered things of ‘Well that wasn’t a surprise’ and the like. You gave him a soft kiss, before accepting your fate. “Now! We’ve got a special punishment for (Full Name) The (Ultimate Talent)!” With that, you were chained and tied to a pole. “This is an especially special punishment, made by one your own!” The monochrome bear called out. There were confused yells, people panicking at one another. Who would it be?

Your Execution.

The lights flickered off, then on again. But it was a spotlight. The light fell on Albedo. “What..?” He questioned, staring at the others. Just as his question fell from his lips, an agonizing scream could be heard on your end. Chemicals upon chemicals were being launched at you. The others yelled at him, wondering how he could do something like this to somebody he’d called a lover. Albedo didn’t know, and called out again. “But..I never wanted this?! Especially not for them..” He recieved a laugh in return. “Now now, dear alchemist. If you hadn’t prepared all of these, your supposed sweetheart would’ve just had a quick little death! This is all *your* fault~” Monokuma said with a sing-song tone. He was lying, this would’ve had the same outcome no matter what Albedo did. But, the alchemist believed him. And cried. It was silent, and he didn’t realise it, but he was crying.He fully blamed himself, there was after all no evidence otherwise. It didn’t take long before he was considered dangerous, and avoided

Chongyun, The Ultimate Exorcist

Your body is found

An argument had been a bit too heated for him, and his condition acted up. You’d went with him, to the small area of his lab that was colder than the rest. He would normally come with you there, to calm down. Usually, you were dressed more appropriately for the temperature. You didn’t worry this time, more concerned over your boyfriend. You stayed cuddled close to him, but the temperature soon became too much. You didn’t want to upset him further, and stayed silent. He didn’t notice. You slowly felt your eyes shut, and rested more against him. He felt the weight, and went to tap your hand to let you know that he was fine now. But then he felt the skin that was far too cold. He screamed, and others rushed in. He didn’t forgive himself. He should have known, noticed, anything...Many nights were spent crying himself to sleep.

You’re the blackened

Disbelief, and thats all. He didn’t forgive you, but he did at the same time. He hated and loved you. It hurt, badly. And upon hearing your reasoning? He became more conflicted. He was lucky he brought popsicles, because otherwise it wouldn’t be good for him. He saw your stressed expression and sighed, before walking over and hugging you. You would be dead soon, anyway. This is the least he could do. The moment came all too fast, and then you were gone.

Your Execution

You had to try fending off spirits, but they weren’t real. You grew tired, fast as they weren’t normal opponents, plus the cold chill wasn’t anything better. Chongyun realised far too late he wasn’t mad, and he still loved you fully. He almost called it out to you, but you slipped up and were killed. It was bloody, and he felt sick. He hated this feeling. He just wanted you back, and in his arms. At the very least, you were out of this game, and resting somewhere. Maybe...maybe he would join you early. This was caused by him, after all.

Kazuha, The Ultimate Poet

Your Body is Found

You and the poet were close from the beginning. It hadn’t been long for a relationship to bloom from that. He would also tell you stories of his time at sea, while you both stayed together in the late evenings. You had said to him you just wanted to go grab a book, and he believed you’d be fine. That proved to be a fatal mistake, as when you entered the library, you were killed by a set trap. Kazuha waited, for an hour, before growing worried and rushing to your last known location. Being the library. He saw your body, and the panic rised. He quickly got everybody together, and was one of the main people during the investigation. At the trial, he was the first suspect, being the last person to be seen with you, and for not showing much emotion, but with his evidence, he was proven guilt free and the killer was found. They certainly didn’t expect the insults that flew from his mouth. He was anything but calm now. He’d lost two people by not being there in time, of course he was pissed off.

You are the blackened

Silence. That’s all you were met with. You couldn’t blame him, and you didn’t want to guilt him so you made an excuse as to why you killed. You had done it so the two of you could be free and sail off. You claimed it was because you were bored, and wanted something interesting to happen. He didn’t approach you. He just stared. It was disheartening. He still loved you, he just...he needed time. Time neither of you had. Not when you yelled out an apology as you were dragged to your final moments and any chance he had to let you know he forgives you, was gone.

Your Execution

You were sat in a chair, a book was slammed in front of you. Metallic hands wrapped around your neck and you guess what to do. Maybe...maybe you could survive this? You read, slowly, the poetry in hand. It was a painstaking process, but when you got to the end of the book, and lowered it, you thought it was over. Maybe this was a lucky chance? That was until you were finally choked fully. Kazuha knew he had time to yell it, that he did forgive you. But that was all gone now. You’d never know that he did love you still, despite everything. He’d lost two people close to him, and was now shut down. And tired.

Tartaglia, The Ultimate Freestyle Martial Artist

Your Body Is Found

You’d both taken a habit of approaching one another with an invitation to spar. It had started with him doing it solely to train you to defend yourself, but then it became a game to the both of you. Childe had decided today he would find you, as you’d snuck up often on him. He entered your dorm, calling out your name. What he didn’t expect was it to be a mess, and have things broken. “(Name)? Are you here? Is this a prank....?” He had asked, while walking around, looking for you, but he never expected the site of your cold, dead body under a table. He approached, almost laughing. “Come on now, (Name), this isn’t funny.” He reached his hand out, to grab your own, but being met with the cold feeling, he jumped back. He stared, and stared. He was in denial. He wouldn’t believe it. He didn’t. Not even at the trial. Not afterwards, not even at his own death, did he ever believe you were dead. He knew it was stupid, but somewhere inside he believed that this was some cruel joke, and you would both return home at some point.

You are the blackened

In case you had any doubt, Childe forgave you instantly as the news was announced. You thanked him, and he held you. He wasn’t upset or mad at you in the slightest. However, he was furious at Monokuma, knowing your execution would happen in mere moments. He held you, not wanting to let you go, ever. Tartaglia kissed your forehead, and muttered an ‘I love you.’ You smiled at him, before being dragged away.

Your Execution

A pole was thrown in your arms as these things started to attack, you tried defending yourself, but it was hard. You thought you’d have a way out, but the stage you were on became slippery and wet, and you struggled. Childe felt a fury burn inside bright than before, and ran to your aid, disarming one of the things and using that to defend you and himself. It seemed to be going well, but they were coming faster than either of you could handle. Tartaglia swore he would get you out of there, but that all fell down as you missed a hit and were killed with one blow. Everyone thought it was over, but they kept attacking, eventually overpowering him too. At the very least, you were able to die together.

Aether, The Ultimate Traveller

Your body was found

Aether didn’t believe his eyes, not when he saw the person he promised to be with forever, dead, stabbed so many times and blood marking most of your skin. It was horrifying, some of it wasn’t even a knife, it looked like an axe or something. At the trial, he snapped. He’d already been seperated from his sister, and now this? You were the one person he told everything to. And now you were dead? Aether was beyond pissed. He normally was sweet and pretty chill, but that was gone. All the frustration he had, was taken out on the killer. If it wasn’t for the fact he knew you’d be upset wherever you were, Aether probably would’ve killed them. He also had to find Lumine, and couldn’t do that while dead.

You are the blackened

He had one question. “Why?” He wasn’t mad, or upset, he just wanted to know. And when you quietly confessed it was so he could see his sister again? He cried. He held you close. He didn’t let you go. Not as the votes were cast, not as it was confirmed you were the blackened. He couldn’t be mad at you, after you’d given up your life so he could leave you guilt free? Maybe..there was a way he could save you. He didn’t have time to debate, as you were ripped straight from him. He made a promise if he could, he would try to save you.

Your Execution.

A fight. That was what you had to. Survive the swarms and swarms of enemies. Aether rushed in quickly, not giving anybody time to protest. You both fought, back to back. But it grew tiring, very tiring. Eventually, you were stabbed, and it pierced deep. You dropped down, sobbing out for him, and he froze up. This caused him to be also hit down. The blade was ripped from your back, and he reached his hand out, just to comfort you. He knew this was it, your and his death would be for nothing. Just as he was about to grab your hand, one of the bots stepped on it, shattering the bone. At the same time he grasped his own hand, you were brutally stabbed multiple times in front of him. He sobbed, before being killed off with blunt force to the head. He knew Lumine wouldn’t find out. They’d been seperated again, and she was in another world entirely.

Xiao, The Ultimate Adeptus

Your body is found

You and him weren’t close, per se. But still found comfort in the other’s presence. You and him had this sort of thing where you would watch out for each other. He, however, kept more of a constant gaze on you. Xiao never took his duty to protect you lightly. He slipped up once. You called his name just a second too late. He found the killer fast, luckily. They were luckily he didn’t kill them right there. He was...angry. At himself. Not at you. He made the mistake, he wasn’t watching you.

You’re the blackened.

Forgiven. Immediately. You apologised and all he did was...hold you? He apologised in return, and confessed the feelings harbouring in his heart. You blinked at him, shocked. But you reciprocated the feelings, and told him so. He felt regret he hadn’t said it sooner. Maybe then...but he didn’t have to reconsider his foolish decision as you were dragged down the hall.

Your Execution..?

Run. Thats all you could do. You ran and ran while the monokuma bots chased you. It also felt like you were running out of air. You wanted to survive...and knew what you had to. You called out Xiao’s name, just soft enough. And he had to. He appeared by you and fought to your defence. The two of you ran, and ran more. Amd fought too. It seemed like the exit was in sight. And it was, but it was closing fast and..only one of you would make it. Xiao knew what he had to do, and sped up, shoving you through the exit...and he followed. You were...free. It was surprising and you gasped for oxygen, clinging to him. It surprised both of you, neither of you thinking you’d make it.

Zhongli, The Ultimate Storyteller

Your body is found

Close. You were close from the day you came here. Many nights were spent in each other’s arms, him telling tales upon tales. You’d listen with interest. But that’s the fond memories he looked back upon. Now, he was alone. Without your constant questions, and curiosity. Without your hopeful reminder that you’ll both make it out. All that was left was this trial room, and your to be found killer.

You’re the blackened

Forgiveness, again. He pulled you into the safety of his arms as your confession to the others spilled out. You admitted it was selfish, and you just wanted him and yourself to be free. They weren’t happy, but understood. That’s all most of them wanted, anyway. Zhongli could feel your pulse begin to race, and slowly whispered one of your favourite stories. It calmed you slowly, and you were ready to accept what faced you.

Your Execution

The drag and then being locked to a pole? Painful, much? He wanted to avert his gaze. But you would expirience that, and it would be just rude of him to ignore you. He felt sick watching the Execution happen. Books flew at you from angles and at rapid paces. You sobbed out for help, but nobody could do anything. It was a cruel reality, but...maybe there was a chance? He thought, as your battered body dropped down from the pole...and you moved. It sounded like...like warmth. Safety...You heard him call for you...You tried moving to the sound, and just as you felt you could reach it, your skull was bashed in the final time. He only stared. He was...he couldn’t take it. The pain was overwhelming..He wished he could just take you into his arms and say everything is fine but...it wasn’t. And it never will be.

Xingqiu, The Ultimate Writer

Your body is found

A prank. That’s all it was meant to be, just a harmless little joke. Nothing to hurt you, let alone kill you. Just a simple water bucket prank. But he had no idea you already were heavily injured. And just as he noticed, it was too late. He dealt the blow. He was the blackened. He killed the love of his life, the one person who consistently tolerated his pranks and teases. Xingqiu accepted his fate, with no struggle.

You are the blackened

Denial. Another one in denial. He considered this just like one his books he read lately. You would tell him that everything was a prank, you weren’t the killer. But when everyone called the vote, and it was confirmed. He yelled at you. He was upset, at...everyone, himself included. Everyone..except you. He wanted to tell you, that he was sorry. That he did forgive you. But he couldn’t, as the chain locked around your neck.

Your Execution

Chained down to a chair, and a paper was slammed down in front of you, with a pen. You were confused, but got the hint. You wrote and wrote, which had you distracted from the area slowly flooding. You slowly started to suffocate in the water, but it didn’t bother you. You felt like it wasn’t even happening. Xingqiu started yelling, begging you to try and survive. You couldn’t hear him, only the sound of your own thoughts. And eventually, your body gave out.

Scaramouche, The Ultimate Debater

Your body is found

From the beginning, you had made an agreement. You would watch out for each other in trials, backing the other up, always an alibi. You considered him a friend, and told him so. You did consider him more, but kept that under wraps. But he never reciprocated..at least you thought he didn’t. Scaramouche did feel the same, but thought he’d have time to tell you. He believed you would be there the next day, the day he would tell you. Tomorrow. He didn’t want there to be a chance you didn’t feel the same, but had considered it, because it would be better than you never knowing. He knocked on your dorm, expecting you to answer at the call of your name, but you didn’t...And he grew annoyed, assuming you were sleeping in. He sighed under his breath, before opening the door, and being met with the sight he never wanted to see. Your bloodied body, clutching a letter to your bleeding chest. You were long gone. He swiftly walked over, trying to ignore the tears rising to his eyes and grabbed the letter, hoping to find some clue as to who your killer was. But as he read through it, his eyes widened. It was a confession. To him. In your writing, that he completely recognised. And he felt regret. He hadn’t even told you that he cared about you. As far as you were aware, you were just a toy to him. Maybe at first, yes, but not as of late. During the trial, he was anything but calm, snapping if anybody dared to speak ill of you. When the blackened was found, they were screamed and swore at. Insults hurled second by second. They likely were terrified of him. And when they were executed, he laughed. If it was possible, people feared him more. And tried to avoid him at all possible costs.

You’re the blackened

Keeps defending you, even when it was a lie. When the votes were cast, and you were still found out, he started yelling. For a moment, others assumed he was an accomplice, but you and Monokuma denied that fact. He was still in denial, hardly able to accept the fate that was in front of his eyes. He asks you why? Why couldn’t you just tell him to do it? It’s rare to see him on the verge of tears, but his pride is in shambles. You gave a laugh, with a sorry before fate dragged you to your doom.

Your Execution

It was some kind of...trap. You were just stuck there. The contraption slowly brought you to your doom, or what you assumed to be. With some careful consideration, you managed to slip from it, avoiding the fate planned. Nobody knew this, and assumed you died when it was stopped. Scaramouche was not the one to find you, it was somebody else. They quickly brought you to him, and he hugged you, tightly. He was shaking, and yelling at the same time. He was just glad you were alive, that’s all that mattered to him. You both managed to escale from there, possibly with others.

Well, hope that wasn’t too OOC. Sorry for the gruesome imagines <3 Another angst fic is coming soon! Prepare :)

#genshin impact x reader #danganronpa #DR #Aether #Albedo #Chongyun #Diluc #scaramouche x reader #Xingqiu #zhongli #murder #blood #gore #TW #Trigger Warning #TW: Suicidal Mentions

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