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isabeauwolf · 1 month ago

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After writing for him multiple times myself 💙🤭🫣

Guess this is my boyfriend Dabi head canons (Of course, I'm always late 🤣 Whoops) SFW Edition

(Please excuse, if these are out of order 🫣 I'm trying to remember everything on the spot)

💙 Dabi would be the yandere and tsundere boyfriend combo. (You can't change my mind!)

💙 He would be mean and bully you, call you weak; it's the only example he's had given who his father.

💙 Would contradict himself by searching for you whenever you are in a room together. Saying it was to make sure you didn't run off or do something stupid. That's on the surface, but internally, he's fearing you would run away from him, abandon him; being one of those "overly romanticized villain chasers" and flee when he becomes villainous, cold, ruthless and his more feral nature pokes its ugly head.

💙Controlling, selfish, manipulative, easily jealous and hiding his true feelings. Blaming you for making him love you or any other feelings you've dragged out of him, long sense buried; the lost embers of his humanity.

💙 When you stay, stare into his eyes; actually, look at him and not through him. It's when he falters and his breath hitches in his burnt lungs and his blacked heart skips. It makes him want to tease and bully you harder, see you flustering and blushing cutely just for him.

💙 Anyone flirts with you? Tries to take you away from him; he'd burn them to ashes without a second thought or after following them, giving them a shake down, a scare and then burn'em.

💙 Put a tracker on your phone or person, so he knows where you are at all times; hell, a microchip. Whichever comes to mind first.

💙 Would absolutely hate when handfreak sends you on missions alone; he'd rather be paired with you like the not so secret overly protective and stubborn jackass that he is.

💙 Give you pet names: baby, spitfire, cry baby, my love; princess, doll

💙 If you come back to him or The Hideout injured. He's seeing red, he's furious; azure blues glaring as he assessing every inch of you for injuries. He kept telling himself he shouldn't care. Shouldn't waste his time. And yet, he does. He does and he hates it, it's annoying. Then when he doesn't see that annoying, happy go lucky smile on your dopey face, you hurt, in pain, bleeding and trying to shrug it off; he's mad at himself for allowing some nameless villain wannabe to hurt you. His doll. His partner. His lover. He feels his body heat up, his quirk thrumming, boiling in his veins, hands twitch as the muscles in his neck tightens and body tenses, his jaw grinds.

💙 With only a few simple words, he drags you away from the others and shoves you into his room. Tells you to sit on his bed as the black-haired flame villain tries to calm himself as he half saunters and half fast walks into his bathroom and comes back with a med kid. "Show me." He's not asking, it's a command. "And be quick about it, doll." You do as you are told, turning and showing him your side. His half-lidded gaze widens when he notices all of the scares on your back. His anger and rage rise higher, nearly during the kit into cinders.

💙 When you call his Villain name he snaps out of it. Releasing a hard explain of exasperation through his nose as he gets to work as you explain what happened. He tries to act nonchalant, tries not to giveaway that he's listening, focusing on every detail: your attacker, where you were and what they looked like as you try not to break down and cry. You bite your bottom lip, your body trembling as he finishes the last of covering your wounds, whispering that you were sorry for being a burden, both to him and The League.

💙 He hates it. He hates how much your words hurt him, affect and makes his heart hurt, bashing yourself as memories of his former self, Touya Todoroki, the lingering phantom and shadows resurfacing. Hitting hard as if you had turned around and physically struck him. Dabi surprises himself, hesitantly and awkwardly pulling you into his embrace; being mindful of your wound as you finally breakdown, openingly crying and sobbing into his chest and his shirt. Clinging onto him as he holds you.

💙 He remains there until your tears have dried, rubbing his large heated hands into your hair or on your back, in small circles. He mentally curses himself for the old muscle memory of helping and holding his younger siblings, his humanity coming back to him. He supposed he could let this slide, a one-time thing, he tells himself.

💙 Yes, Dabi's decided that once you are asleep, he'll avenge you himself. He felt excitement bubbling as he felt inwardly giddy, the thrill of the hunt, the chase, the thought of seeing that low level, low life thug screaming, whimpering and howling in pain, kneeling on the ground underneath his boot heel and begging for mercy when they didn't give you any. Didn't stop when you pleaded, tears streaming down your face, crying for help, for mercy, for him, your friends; knowing a Hero wouldn't come.

💙 After you were asleep and tucked into his bed. Dabi was surprised when Toga, Twice, Mister and Shigaraki were waiting for him outside. Kurogiri and Magne decided to stay and protect you back at the hideout. The rest of The League followed him, stalking like thieves in the night until they found the person who'd hurt you. It was easy to find them. They were bragging and gloating about what they had done; saying The LOV was a pack of weaklings. It is more personal now, both their pride and for avenging you. The group of Villains swarmed on your attacker like a pack of ravenous jackals, demonic angels of vengeance, all teeth, glee and madness.

💙 Who knew that you made The League of Villains, a group of crazies and outcasts bond and grow closer? You may be Dabi's partner, but you were a part of their found family. It was a glorious bonding experience.

More fluff and sweet moments Dabi "pretends" not to notice~

💙 The half-awake and half asleep, dopey smile you give him as he hands you coffee makes his blacked and charcoaled heart melt. He feels his mismatched lips quirk into a ghost of a smile.

💙 Deny it all he wants, but he loves when you cuddle against him in the middle of the night. Once or twice, okay, a handful of times, he's pulled you into his side or onto his chest, or nuzzles his face into your chest, savoring your warmth, your steady breathing. Knew if he did this while you two were awake, you'd tease him.

Your first I love you's and kisses

💙 When he finally admits that he loves you, it's awkward and impulsive. He'd been wanting to tell you. Said in his head over and over again until you called his name and it slipped out, "I love you, Y/n." Your eyes widen, mouth falling open and he knew he'd messed up and said it too soon! He tries to play it off, but you don't buy it. He flounders, blushing harder against his semi-normal and burnt skin as your lips curl into a smile, batting your pretty lashes at him and ask coyly, "You love me?"

💙 He bites the inside of his cheek and grumbles, "What of it? What if I do? So what, doll?" His heartbeat thunders hard against his ribcage as he waits for your answer. Your rejection. He stomach twitching in knots as his anxiety flares and he hates it. What were you doing to him?!

💙 Your smile widens, it's bright and beaming as you hug him when he becomes further embarrassed and glances away. "Good." You lean on your tiptoes and kisses his heated, scarred and stapled cheek. "I love you too, Dabi." You surprised him. You gently cup his cheek, turning his head towards yours and kissing him, his lips against yours. You. You stole his first kiss?! Stole so many of his firsts. His eyes widened, his breath hitches and leaves his lungs as you pull away; a cute noticeable blush creeping across your face. "Sorry, it was a heat of the moment kind of thing." You muttered shyly.

💙 He blinked, turquoise eyes dazed until he inwardly shook himself. His jaw twitches, lips curling into a smug smirk, filled with amusement and mischief sparkling behind his azure blues orbs. "Well, look who grew bold today?" He hums.

💙 Your face turns redder as you bury your face into his chest. "Shut up. If I didn't kiss you first you wouldn't do it." Your voice is muffled by his clothes, but he hears you. Oh. Oh, no. Now you've done it. You've challenged him.

💙 Oh? So you want his fire? His passion? His all consuming embers and hellfire. He had been holding himself back. He didn't want you to run away and take his time. But if you challenge him like that. The games has changed. You've unknowingly lit the coals underneath him and his competitive nature. Dabi's smirk widens into something wolfish and feral, hungry as both of his large, warm hands cradle the side of your face and force you to meet his gaze. "Is that a challenge, doll?" He teases. He's not angry. Far from it, he's secretly happy that you wanted to kiss him. Wanted him as much as he wanted you. "You wanna kiss me? C'mon don't grow shy on me now."

💙 You nod your head, raising your hands to cover his. Not to push him away. No. You skate your palms along his skin, touch featherily light and inch your hands along his firearms, his shoulders and behind his neck, pressing yourself closer, chest to chest and wrapping your hands behind his head.

💙 Dabi chuckles. "Words, doll." Something dark and amused, dangerous as he tries to ignore his traitorous heart fluttering. "Use your words." He encourages, trying to coax more of your stubbornness he's fond of. It's there. He notices your sass and grit forming on your face through the flustered expression and shyness. There you are. He thought inwardly chuckling to himself. My courageous doll. My spitfire. My doll. All mine.

💙 You lick your lips, his blues follows, then flickers back to your eyes. "Yes and what if I do want to kiss you?" You ask back. Something soft. Waiting. Testing the waters. Teasing. Challenging.

💙 Dabi tilts his head. "Then whatcha waiting for? You want a kiss? My fire?" He lowers, hovering over you, caging you against him and the wall, heated hands leaving your face to travel to the back of your head and the other behind the small of your back. "Think you can handle me?" He whispers. Excitement, and twinge of desire growing. "I don't like doin' shit half-assed, pretty baby."

💙 There is it. The smirk curling along your own lips. "As long as you don't chicken out, Dabi." There's the sassy little thing that drew him in and stole his heart.

💙 That earns you a laugh, low and raspy, playful. "Don't regret your choices when you get burned." He takes initiative and control this time. Bringing you into a soft and tender kiss, once again contradicting himself. It doesn't last long. He moves his lips along your own, it's awkward and unsure, then grows more raw, heated, passionate and all consuming, possessive as he pours all of his twisted, mixed-up feelings into it. Trying to tell you without words, his affection for you. How much you make him ache. How much you make him burn and yearn for more. More of your kisses, more of your touches, more of your love and affection, he wants everything you have to give. Growing more greedier as his breaths mingle with your own before finally pulling away. "I'm far from satisfied, baby." He pants, gasping for air as he pulls you back for another kiss. "You'll let me, won't you?" He whispers, breathlessly, his lips tingling as he shivers. Wondering what other feelings and emotions you will brag out of him. "You want another." He kisses you, a light peck. "Another." He does it again. "And another." He hums, chuckling when you nod your head, gasping and knees buckled as you cling onto him.

💙 He continues to tease you in between heated kisses. If even you try to stop him now, he doesn't know, if he could let you go now. You've awakened the greedy, touch and love starved beast caged and chained for too long. Deprived of affection, acceptance, warmth and the embers are only scorching higher, escalating, spreading and isn't stopping.

💙 Only on the rare occasion when you two are alone he would smother you, cling onto you, silently beg for your attention like the love and touch starved, dramatic man baby that he is. Secretly spoil you with stuff he's stolen and completely deny it was from him.

(If I could do a steamy, NSFW Editon and you wanna be a part of the taglist or any of my other Dabi fanfics, let me know, my lovelies!)

Okay, I lied. I had to through in some sprinkles of spice in there! I couldn't help it! It was too perfect not to. X////x

#Isabeau's Boyfriend Dabi Head Canon's #Boyfriend Dabi Head Canon's #Sorry I'm late!#Dabi Brainrot is back!#Blue Eyed Cassanova #Pyro #villain lover #Dabi #Isabeau Writes #mha dabi #Dabi x reader

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alucard-thee-edgy · 2 months ago

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Is Alucard a good or bad liar? Maybe that depends on who he's lying to, what kind of lie it is (factual misrepresentation vs almost doing acting and pretending to feel something he doesn't feel), and what he's lying about? Does he have "tells"? Like, I always got the feeling it would be hard for Alucard to lie to Integra, let alone fool her. But, it might depend on what he's lying about. But, I could see him more easily lying to Seras. And what about Integra? What kind of liar is she?

/// Buckle up kids. This is gonna be a long-ass post.

In Abraham’s time all Alucard did was lie, left and right, in an effort to spite him. He wasn’t any good at it, but he didn’t try to be. It was his last little act of rebellion and he doesn’t do it very much anymore. In present day Hellsing, he doesn’t often have things to lie about, anyway. When he isn’t working with Seras or going off on a mission he’ll usually just keep to himself.

On the rare occasion he actually has a secret to keep, there are very few cues to indicate the lie. He only acts differently if he is particularly uneasy or doesn’t have a good excuse. He’ll take to talking a little too much, adding in unnecessary details in a subconscious effort to make the lie sound more believable. Essentially, if he’s being overly descriptive, he’s either lying or being sarcastic… Or both. Anyone who isn’t Seras, Integra, or Walter are usually fooled by it, taking his exaggeration as another one of his eccentricities.

He isn’t one to fake his opinions; he’s very blunt and rarely chooses to spare anyone’s feelings. His emotions, however, are a different story. He’s become a proficient actor in an effort to distance himself from his emotions. He masks them constantly, making a habit of it. His violent tendencies act as a way to convince both himself and those around him that there’s nothing more to him besides his sadism and bloodlust. Don’t have to worry about mental health when all you’re good for is killing things! :D Is that unbearably Edgy™? Yes. Have you read the name of this blog? Obviously not.

Though he has good relations with Seras, he often resorts to irritation whenever she becomes a little too curious. He learned that she’d leave him be if he seemed angry enough. It worked better before the whole Millennium incident when Seras was still ‘young’, but after the time-skip it became harder to be rid of her. Now, she stands up to him more and is less naïve towards his deterrents, often seeing through them nearly as well as Integra.

Integra has known him the longest and somehow manages to pick up on the smallest of his cues. She’s grown accustomed to his aura in the time since his awakening, and it always seems a little off when he has something to hide. She’s very quick to have the truth out of him, regardless of what it might be. She doesn’t like the idea of a mildly-deranged vampire keeping secrets, and she won’t hesitate to order the truth from him if he’s being particularly unruly.Integra doesn’t take pride in lying, but in her line of work it's nearly impossible to go a day without having to cover up something, forge documents, or lie about the nature of the Organization. She becomes more proficient with it as the years go along, using both it and her stoic demeanor to get her way when need be. She’s ironed out most of her ‘tells’, but if she has to weave an intricate lie she might take to talking slower. It almost sounds like she’s trying to explain something complicated to a child. Again, it's only made obvious to those with practiced ears. It doesn’t happen very much, however, as she usually chooses her words with practiced finesse. ///

#hellsing #hellsing ultimate #alucard #alucard hellsing #hellsing alucard #integra hellsing #lying #seras #integra #seras victoria #it speaks

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linkemon · 8 months ago

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Kaeya Alberich (selfship)

Selfship was made for xivia___ on Wattpad.

You can check my Masterlists both in English and Polish here. Consider supporting me on Ko-fi. You can also check out my commissions if you’re interested. Other selfships can be found here.

~ Being Kaeya's fiancée comes with many difficulties. The main one is his constant absence. The knights have had their hands full lately. But that's not all. You haven't been idle either. The paperwork is overwhelming you. This has led to you rarely seeing each other. Because of this, you especially appreciate the moments when you spend time together.

~ A man tries to remind you to take care of yourself, but he doesn't do much of it himself. You have to watch out so he doesn't overdo it.

~ He loves how you throw yourself around his neck to greet him every time he comes back from a difficult, dangerous fight. You only do it with people who are close to you, like Jean. He grumbles that you would do it with everyone, preferably his coworkers, which you don't want to agree to.

~ He can be overly dramatic, even in public, which often embarrasses you. He can complain that you don't pay enough attention to him when you're walking around town and you see something interesting.

~ One time you were shopping and the old ladies at the stall started telling you how lucky you were. You didn't know why, but Kaeya had gained their popularity. Later you found out that they were supposedly very depressed because they saw him as a candidate for a husband for their granddaughters.

~ He calls you my sweetheart. Your relationship is full of such sweet words from him. He also won't resist kissing you out of the blue. Especially when he goes somewhere for a longer time, he says he needs more kisses in advance.

~ Diluc doesn't know what you see in his brother. He treats you with cold politeness and that's it. You never found out why they have such a bad relationship and they won't explain it to you. You don't press it but it saddens you how they treat each other. However, you know that your future brother-in-law is ready to help you if you were in a really bad situation. He told you about it right after you got engaged and it was one of the few things he said to you in your entire relationship.

~ You have to forgive Kaeya for often sitting at the bar. That's one thing that will never change. He likes to enjoy a glass of wine after a hard day. He'll try to convince you to go out with him. After all, Angel's Share also has non-alcoholic drinks. Just be prepared to deal with him when he overdoes it.

~ He gets extremely effusive when drunk. He also tends to tell tales. Including ones that exaggerate your merits. Once he made up that you defeated a magician without any weapons. People in a bar clapped and the next day the rumors spread and they congratulated you on the street, asking for details. You were pissed at your fiancé for that for the next week.

~ His cryo ability helps you especially in the summer. He will gladly cool your drink or hold your hand under the pretext of hot weather.

He can also walk on water. He is strong enough to freeze its surface to some extent. His favourite pastime is doing it while skating, in the summer. This requires a lot of trust from you because one wrong move from him and you will end up in the water. If it is shallow, he sometimes bathes you on purpose. He finds this extremely amusing.

~ Your dates are usually picnics near Mondstadt. You usually have to organize them because Alberich would be satisfied with a simple walk. He explains it by saying that anywhere is perfect, as long as it's with you. He doesn't really feel like cooking and you know it.

~ If monsters attack you then, he will defeat them in a showy style. Even if you can defend yourself, he will still want to do it himself. He likes to show off. He wants to be your private knight, protecting you from danger.

~ The man has a serious dilemma. The wedding is coming up and he still hasn't told you where he really came from. It's not that he doesn't want to but his childhood memories are deeply embedded in him. He's still ashamed of his hesitation on that fateful day. Diluc has never forgiven him. How differently will you look at him? He doesn't know for sure. It was a long time ago and his view of the world is different but the fact remains. However, he is certain that no matter what he does, your safety in the future is important.

#kaeya x reader #genshin impact x reader #kaeya alberich x reader #diluc ragnvindr #selship #headcanons

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fandaniel · 1 year ago

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okkk posting a draft of cherry and fandaniel thing. its not nsfw but like. leading to it. its a scene before sex probably. ive posted a few things from it already.

He prodded at the roasted beef on the plate with his fork, the flesh was overly tender, falling apart at the softest press of his fork. There was an unfamiliar hunger growing in the pit of his stomach that felt misplaced. Things once dead shouldn’t be so tempting.

“I spent the day preparing it for us,” Fandaniel gave him a knowing look across the table, as if tempting him with his eyes. “Please, don’t hurt my feelings by not giving it a honest try. You might come to like it, my dear.”

Cherry gave him a glare for a moment, before straightening his back, he wasn’t here to pick a fight when there was information he could gain, and so much to lose if he didn’t play politics with this ascian. Clearing his throat, “I don’t eat meat is all, sorry to offend.” He twirled the goblet of wine the host across from him had poured for him, fainting interest in the alcohol. “Is this imported?” There was a role to be played before he could pry on intent.

There was a small bit of sourness on the hosts face as he leaned into the velvet backing of the chair, a theatrical sigh left his mouth, all the time with the dramatics. He was the worst ascian Cherry had the displeasure of talking to, nothing seemed genuine, it was hard to tell where he began and where he ended with his acting. “I am a terrible host for not asking a preference for dinner, but it was so hard to get you alone, completely alone.” His voice lowered to a sonorous tone. “Grateful though, the savior of humanity, the hero of this tale, could indulge me with a night. I will hold this memory dearly.”

“Mhm,” Cherry mumbled during a cursory sip after inspecting the wine for any poisons or other methods of foul play. “Why did you invite this get together, again?”

That seemed to spark his interest as he leaned forward and rested his arms on the wood table. “We both want something with this arrangement, Warrior of Light. You want, no, need to know more about me, isn’t that correct? To get an idea of how to stop me?” He smiled like a fox with a rabbit in his teeth. “You were special to a man I share the memories of. Disgustingly special. You don’t remember him, but I remember you, of all your qualities and accomplishments.” Something was mixed in his words there, something bitter, despite the praise. His eyes briefly flickered downwards. “Surely, you want to know more, your mind is magnificently curious, it is simple to see.”

For what little he knew of Fandaniel, this was off kilter for his tightly knitted mask of personality, causing Cherry to stare at him temporarily, scrutinizing every detail. “You seem genuine.” “Oh, you hurt my heart with your words! I have only been genuine.” “Liar.”

There was a pause in Fandaniel’s wit as he let out a cold chuckle, “I am reaching my hand out, Warrior of Light, can’t you see it in your heart to catch me and embrace me?”

That feeling in the pit of his stomach again stirred, Cherry reached for his glass of wine to find it empty, must’ve finished it without thinking. The gnawing sensation that he was going to do something uncharacteristic of a heroic man, to behave on self interest, something he had tried to work out of him over the years.

“At least tell more information than that, I’m not rejecting anything. It’s unfair for you to say such things without explaining.” Not that you have ever explained yourself in a manner that is rational. Cherry reached for the wine bottle in the center, only to be met with Fandaniel’s hand meeting his own.

“No need to drink so hurriedly.” His hand was soft against Cherry’s scarred and battle worn hands, his voice was more off putting to him than usual, it was all too soft. “I want you to remember as well, all the details.” Fingers interlocking each other. “His name was Hermes. You would have liked him, I believe. But he was a dour man, despite living in paradise, but he had you, well, a unsundered you, at his side to ease his disposition.”

He was too fascinated at his tale to take care of their hands interlocking, or that his heart seemed to pick up speed, to pick at his hosts brain was of the most importance. I have heard from other ascians’ something of my soul being familiar. Confirms my suspicions. “Why would you hate living in something you’ve described as a paradise?” “To everyone else, but everyone is blind to truth, suffering, that the only way to remove pain is to remove it at the start.” Fascinating.

“I’ve come to my conclusion.” He chimed in, reassuring his self appointed truth, in that there was no changing.

“I didn’t think I had any foothold to change your mind on the matter so easily.” And Cherry was not a fool to mistake a crack in the door as an opening. “And that, my darling, is why I’ve always liked you so much.” Fandaniel cooed, rubbing his thumb against the back of Cherry’s hand, paying attention to running over healed scars.

“I think I’ve given you a good taste, something to ease some of your endless hunger of knowledge.” Fandaniel lifted Cherry’s hand to hover over his lips with an impish expression. “While I don’t feel a connection to that man, I do feel something special with you, and I know you feel a draw between us. If there was someone I would want to experience pleasure with before ending the world, it would be you.”

A hero shouldn’t act in such a manner, so many of those look at me for guidance in this world, but I never agreed to be looked towards for morals or to be an idealistic person to be. Yet, the hunger he spoke of was identical.

“Don’t muddy my feelings with talking about the world ending.” “My apologies, my prince. I wanted to make my vision clear, a night of pleasure for us both, and then we continue on our paths.”

Fandaniel kissed the knuckle of Cherry’s hand, gesturing for forgiveness. He needed to decide, quickly, either to run away with the information he has gained or to confront his own feelings of neediness. Just a taste. “Then, it’s agreed upon.” Impassively speaking, as if it was business as usual.

#im not the best writer sorry……! i tried.#writing

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masiethewriter · 9 months ago

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Honored Eternal Path of Demise CH. 14 - Mapping Lore

Honestly, with how the rain has been falling all night, the drawing being as intact and dry as it is, is a wonder in itself. Only something the illogical logic of a videogame can explain away. Even with how Shen Qingqiu turns it every which way and how dirty his hands are, none of it leaves smears on the paper. So engrossed is he in trying to make sense of the drawn shapes, that he does not notice the shadow leaning over him before it is too late. A hand settles on his shoulder.

First Chapter ~~ Previous Chapter ~~ AO3 Link

Carefully, Shen Qingqiu waits for anything to happen. Someone to burst through the forest. Or walking calmly, heavy axe dragging behind. Even from inside the house, the lights suddenly turning on.

Everything is silent.

Is it because the Killer is already inside the mansion with Ning Yingying? Or is the nail not a trap? Is Shen Qingqiu just being overly paranoid?

Quietly, Shen Qingqiu shuffles towards the front of the hut. He will be easier to see in the light, but it is also only in the light that he can see what is on the paper he found.

If the Killer is here there is no way Shen Qingqiu will get away a second time anyway.

Despite Shen Qingqiu's earlier reassurance, he doesn't actually believe Binghe could get to him in time. Even if he did, with Shen Qingqiu's foot in its broken state, he is only a burden slowing them down.

He doesn't want to entertain the thought, but it's true. Next time they meet the Killer, he must be prepared to die. He won't be able to evade like before and he can't run away by himself. If he lets Luo Binghe save him again, he risks the other getting seriously hurt. He knows he is holding Binghe back and that is fine as long as they are safe.

But it won't last forever.

So, he dares the risk as he stands underneath the lamp, studying the paper in his hand.

Without his glasses, it is hard to discern the details. Different coloured blobs form what must be a child's drawing. A few spots have text written to them, but the childish scrawl is too hard to read in the low light and his blurry eyesight.

Shen Qingqiu can't just put on his glasses to get a clearer look. Because he doesn't know where they are. Last he knew, he put them away in a pocket in his jacket. The same jacket used as a makeshift bandage for his decimated foot. Whether they got lost during his fight with the Killer, while running away or they got forgotten in the shed, he doesn't know. He only knows they are certainly lost for this session.

Instead, he can only put the drawing all the way to his face, squinting his eyes as he tries to determine what is what.

The green clumps covering most of the paper must be trees. Then there are a few brown squares, the largest one at the edge of the paper. Each square has thick red text written by them, but they are barely readable to him. It seems to be single words? Looking closely, he is quite certain the one in the middle says “HOME” in block letters. The other two words are too squeezed together and without brighter light he can’t discern where the individual letters begin and end.

Between the middle square and the one at the edge, a thin red line has been drawn across the paper. Different, more delicate words have been written here, but the text is too small for Shen Qingqiu to read. It must be important, because a few extra lines have been added underneath to emphasise the words. His nose is almost pressed flat against the paper, trying to make the blurry shapes make sense.

So engrossed is he in trying to make sense of the drawn shapes, that he does not notice the shadow leaning over him before it is too late.

A hand settles on his shoulder.

Shen Qingqiu freezes, not expecting the sudden contact. Before he can move to get away, he is spun around. For a horrifying moment Shen Qingqiu is certain he is going to die. When he is instead faced by Luo Binghe, it takes his heart an extra minute to no longer try escaping his chest, almost leaving him dizzy.

"We were supposed to meet halfway," Luo Binghe says, voice completely calm.

His face matches his voice, his posture relaxed. His hold on Shen Qingqiu’s shoulder is not tight, as if he simply reached out to help him keep his balance. While what he said wasn’t a question, his tone is slightly inquiring, clearly expecting an answer.

Shen Qingqiu on the other hand feels out of breath. He is so relieved that it wasn’t the Killer, that he doesn’t have words for it. But he can’t quite calm down and he doesn’t trust what voice he will have until then.

He is too slow to calm his nerves and so Luo Binghe asks again.

"We agreed to meet halfway, but you weren't there. Why did you go back here?"

Luo Binghe doesn't sound particularly worried. His tone is almost conversational. His grip on Shen Qingqiu's shoulders continues to provide support. But somehow, Shen Qingqiu can’t shake the feeling that he is being interrogated.

It is irrational, but Shen Qingqiu can feel his hackles rise. He feels as if Luo Binghe is pressing him for an answer and when he forces it out, it sounds much harsher than he means to: "I went back because I needed the light."

Okay, he might have hissed that more than said it. And he knows it sucks as an answer, not actually explaining anything. He needs to get his act together! Which he is trying to do, but-

"What did you need the light for?"

"I found a note. I couldn't see what it said without it."

"Why didn't you wait for me? You were the one who said we would share what we find.'"

"It could have been worthless. Didn't want to waste both of our time."

"Senior, that is dangerous. What would you be able to do if you suddenly got attacked?"

"Weren't you the one certain the Killer was nowhere near?"

Luo Binghe! Stop! Keeping asking questions like this means Shen Qingqiu has no chance to gather himself! Each of his answers only sounds more and more like the original goods and it is not even intentional this time! But he can’t help it!

When Luo Binghe suddenly appeared like that… Shen Qingqiu really thought he was about to die. Him getting paranoid from the nail mixed with the unexpected appearance of Binghe made him feel awful in a way he can’t explain. It is like, when he gets surprised by the Killer, he doesn’t have time to digest it, because he has to survive right after. And when he gets surprised by Ning Yingying, she usually has no control over it, not expecting Shen Qingqiu after.

But Binghe, you could have at least tried to make your presence known before suddenly grabbing him! That’s basic decency! Especially!!! When they have already been attacked by the Killer! Give him a goddamn moment here Binghe!

They both go silent. Luo Binghe seems surprised by his sudden bad demeanour. Shen Qingqiu is just trying to count to ten in his head. Neither breaks eye contact, the air between them thick with tension.

Shen Qingqiu knows he is being unfair. He knows Luo Binghe is right. But he is given no time to properly collect his thoughts and explain himself. He is instead being pushed towards the role he should already be playing. The uncooperative villain who refuses to cooperate and who frustrates everyone around him.

It doesn’t matter. Who cares? Shen Qingqiu was a few minutes delayed, why does it matter? Is Luo Binghe worried? That would just be bizarre for such a minor issue. He gets it when the other is worried about his foot, everyone would feel bad for something like that. But if he is annoyed about Shen Qingqiu being late, he can just-

Okay, Shen Qingqiu is being unfair again. The silence between them is actually allowing him to control his thoughts again. He really is just being irrational and stupid. Also, he was too mean to Binghe. He should properly apologise. But would the original goods apologise? Okay, easy answer, but what should he then do? Everything is really awkward right now and he doesn’t know what to say and-

"Then, what did you find?"

Oh, okay, great idea Binghe! Let's just get back to business. No reason to halt progression for something stupid like this. Shen Qingqiu is totally on board acting as if nothing happened! Bringing the drawing back up, it is not without relief that he shows it to Luo Binghe.

"A drawing. I have tried to figure out what it says, but the light is too weak for me to see properly"

Binghe looks at him for a minute as if in deep thought, before his full attention turns to the paper. He is quick to point out new details, such as two of the brown squares have roofs, confirming them as small houses. He then reads out the words.

"These say 'HOME', 'DADDY’ and ‘MOMMY’" he says, as he points at the different squares. "I have no idea if it means anything. It is weird finding something like this here?"

"Hmm," Shen Qingqiu hums. The question here is who's drawing this is. He never found it during his own playthrough and doesn't remember it being mentioned on any forums. The paper does look old, so he supposes it could be...

Before drawing any conclusions, he points at the finer writing by the red line. "What does this say?"

Binghe briefly glances at Shen Qingqiu, before he looks closer.

"I think it says 'No further', but the handwriting is hard to read."

Clearly the writing by the line and the words by the squares was written by different people. Even with his blurry eyesight, Shen Qingqiu can see the difference between children's scribble and the fine cursive of an adult. The question is why this was added to the drawing.

Well, the real question is whether this matters. Based on where they find themselves currently, this should just be lore. Not lore that Shen Qingqiu has seen before, but lore nonetheless. So really, they are likely just wasting their time trying to understand the random scribbles a child has made.

Meanwhile, Luo Binghe slowly begins to reach his own conclusions. Turning the paper around a few times, he mentally makes rough estimations about the size of the squares and their distance. Suddenly he points to the large square at the edge of the drawing. The one with the word ‘MOMMY’.

"Senior, I think that is the mansion."

"What?" Shen Qingqiu asks, not seeing where he got that conclusion.

"We can likely assume that ‘HOME’ is meant to be here. So if the squares are buildings, then the smaller one could be the shed. And it only makes sense that the largest one would be the mansion," Luo Binghe explains. A bit of excitement has entered his voice as he shows Shen Qingqiu what he means. "If we assume this to be the case, we could use this as a map!"

Shen Qingqiu blinks at him. It's a very simple idea, but simple doesn't mean it isn't true. Binghe did point out the squares to be houses, or rather, a hut and a shed if his theory is true.

"Knowing where we came from, this does give us a way to follow," Shen Qingqiu muses. "As good a direction as any other option, I suppose."

"It doesn't hurt to try it at least," Binghe agrees. "This was a good find, Senior."

Shen Qingqiu just hums. He doesn't think this is meant to be used as a map. When playing, players usually came here knowing the way. So they wouldn’t exactly need anything to guide them back. It is likely just intended to be lore.

But Binghe didn't find anything of note, so they might as well. They pocket the drawing and finally leave the home of the Killer.

While Luo Binghe is back to playing a crutch for Shen Qingqiu, they are both more silent. It's not like before when Shen Qingqiu was worried about playing 4D chess with another potential transmigrator. Rather, while their studying of the drawing did slightly lighten the mood, not all the tension between them has vanished.

Shen Qingqiu feels embarrassed having to continue leaning against Binghe with how he acted before.The mood between them is weird, but there isn't really any other choice. To distract himself from this, Shen Qingqiu let's Luo Binghe steer them the right way, while he begins to consider a few things.

Namely if he really knows everything there is to know about the Killer.

If asked before this adventure with Luo Binghe, he would say he knows enough. As in, there really isn't anything worth discussing. Why would there be, in this lazy game made by uninspired people?

The entire problem with this game is its absolute refusal to do anything original or thought provoking. That could already be seen with how the developers were too scared of releasing anything original and instead had to hide behind the PIDW IP. It could be seen with how each level was clearly stolen from other, more popular horror games and media.

It could be seen in its stereotypical mindless characters. It's stereotypical mindless puzzles. It's stereotypical, mindless, open-ended, clearly just copying what every other trashy horror game is copying, shitty secret ending that even after having seen everything terrible the game already offered still left Shen Qingqiu in such a fit that he-!

And, of course, the Monsters were no different. At least, that was the case back when Shen Qingqiu first played the game.

The backstory and motive of the Killer is the most boring and basic it could be. It is, of course, hard to come up with something completely original. Serial Killers aren't exactly a rare breed in the horror genre, nevermind suspense or crime media. But Shen Qingqiu was only asking for the bare minimum of originality and even that was too high of an expectation. Only his completionist playstyle made him try to collect most of the lore items and even then he had to give up for those more hazardous to gain. Of those he missed, he just went to the games forums and read up on it there.

But no one ever mentioned anything like the drawing. And while its existence doesn't particularly rebut any knowledge he already has, that is weird.

This is only the first level. A few hardcore players had already beaten the game after the first day. Before Shen Qingqiu was anywhere near reaching the secret ending the internet was already full of guides and game theories. Players were already breaking into the files to find hidden content. How could something as obvious as a drawing hanging on the outside of the Killers hut be missed by so many players?

Something isn't making sense. And no matter how Shen Qingqiu twists and turns it in his head, he can't come up with any explanation.

"Senior is being very quiet. What are you thinking about?"

Luo Binghe breaks Shen Qingqiu’s train of thought. He blinks at Binghe, but the other is not looking in his direction. His full focus on the way ahead.

"I was simply wondering about what the meaning of the drawing is."

"I see," Luo Binghe hums. "I suppose any knowledge about this place could be something that helps us find a way out."

Well, not really, actually. You just have to solve all the puzzles and evade getting killed by the Killer. There is surprisingly little backstory required to actually beat each level. It was like even the developers were embarrassed about the stories they had come up with and tried to make it as irrelevant as possible.

Shen Qingqiu doesn't say any of this. Instead he just says the first thing that comes to mind: "It's not a bad idea to collect any info we find. The faster we can escape this place the better."

"I hope we find a way out soon. We especially need to get you out and find proper help for your leg." Luo Binghe agrees.

Speaking of his leg, Shen Qingqiu has begun to notice that with each step they take, it hurts more than earlier. It is still manageable, but the effect of the pills must be weakening. He can keep for a while longer, but he might soon have to ask for a break. It is good that the pills lasted this long, but… now that he thinks about it...

This is actually the longest session Shen Qingqiu has managed to survive so far. Like, no competition. It must have been an hour since he woke up at least, likely more. He even survived a direct encounter with the Killer, which has never happened before. So when you really put all of this together…

It becomes even more frustrating that no progress has been reached at all!

So what, that he has survived for this long? Most of that time has been spent wandering around lost in a forest! So what, that he survived the Killer? Certainly his foot had to pay quite the price for that!

None of what they have done will have any effect on them reaching the ending and Shen Qingqiu escaping this game, so really, it has just been a waste of time! His only hope is that they can somehow find their way back to the upper floor of the mansion and he can reach some breakthrough before his foot slows them down enough for him to catch his next inevitable death!

Actually, Shen Qingqiu really needs to start focusing on that. No more distractions. Once they find the mansion, he will try to get Luo Binghe to lead them straight to the upper floors. He won't be too obvious about it, he still needs to act natural, but he gotta keep them on track.

He has to keep his eyes on the goal. Filled with determination, he promises himself that before this session ends, he will have gained some progress that will actually help him win the game faster!

And right as this new goal settles in his mind, the first line of trees begin to break up. The space before them opens up. And finally, after a long time of hudling along, Shen Qingqiu and Luo Binghe see the very top of the mansion towering before them.

#SVSSS #BingQiu #BingYuan #Shen Yuan #Luo Binghe #Shen Qingqui #scum villain's self saving system #scum villain self saving system #scumvillain #mxtx #AO3 Link

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shooks-stupid-stuff · 5 months ago

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Re:Shook’s Weekly OCs: #004

Jacian Von Rittedel (Modern Vers.)

definitely haven't been putting off writing this post because I know it's gonna be a long one

Ahem. Anyways. Were I making this post like, 3 years ago, then I could confidently say that this glorious goofy man needs no introduction.

However I haven't really done anything with him in a LONG ass time, and he and Taiana have been overthrown as my most well known OCs (probably) by the other blue-and-blonde-haired-duo that I've become completely obsessed with, so. There's no escaping it.

This is gonna be a LONG ass post, only saved by the fact that technically this is an AU version so I can skip some stuff and save it for later, haha.

...But also kinda not. Anyways I should stop dragging my feet and just start huh-

Also, this is the fist of these with trigger warning! So, minor self harm/attempted s*icide tw; I'm not gonna do anything more than just briefly mention The Thing That Happened, but y'know. Better safe than sorry and all that.

So, Jacian is a character made intentionally to be a parody of the Camus archetype from hit game series Fire Emblem, because he was initially made for a FE fangame idea I had (which has since then just become it's own thing, and my pipedream video game that I would like to make some day but probably never will). He can be boiled down to being a charismatic and overly dramatic knight who values loyalty to his lord above all else, and refuses to fight anything but fair duels 99% of the time. This version of him specifically is just one I made so that I could use him in my other OC stuff, since y'know. It's kinda hard to just plop a Ye Olde Times guy into the modern day without adapting him a bit lol.

That said, a lot about him is still the same; even the way he talks (bro does NOT know what a contraction is), and dresses, and he's still a knight because like. What right do I have to take that away from him, look at him he was BORN to be one. He's generally a very sociable and likeable guy, and despite being a certified oddball with the whole noble-knight schtick, he has an undeniable charm that typically wins over most people who meet him. In other words, bro has a maxxed out charisma stat. That isn't to say he's incapable of being serious though, he very much is, but he really only drops his usual charm when things actually get serious, and becomes more reserved as time goes on.

That said, this version of Jacian specifically is also from further along story-wise than the normal/base version of him (those who know now probably get why that tw is there (assuming they didn't before. they probably did)), so it's prrrrobably gonna be easier to just run through his whole background/backstory than to effectively explain basically two different characters just to show how he's different? (which like. base Jacian is getting his own post at some point anyways so i can just go into detail about how he is at that point of his character development there anyways)

So, Jacian always had wanted to be a knight. Like, ever since he was a kid. Even though it's like. Modern day. Specifically, he wanted to be someone's 'evil' rival, with his definition of evil being solely shaped by goofy, non-threatening antagonists from Saturday morning cartoons. You know the type, causing Mild Inconvenience at worst and all that stuff. Unrealistic as it may be though, he was determined, and stuck with the whole bit through most of his childhood (up until around middle school). Around that time though, his world view started to shift a bit; he both was just naturally maturing, and at the same time having to deal with the sudden loss of his father, who had always been the one most willing to indulge his fantasies, going as far as to actually teach Jacian to use a sword (he's a whole other can of worms i could get into, but he'll probably get his own post some day so. I'm gonna refrain from going more into his whole deal so that this doesn't become even more of a barely comprehensible stream-of-consciousness ramble than it already is lol), as well as his mother getting incredibly sick shortly after (she had to leave the country to get the medical treatment she needed, and would end up passing away years later). However, rather than the reasonable outcome of him just dropping the whole knight thing altogether coming to pass, he instead doubles down, just with a much more serious attitude about the whole thing. He's still definitely a goof, but now he's a lot more thoughtful and mature about the whole thing (which has the unintentional effect of him becoming actually really well liked by his peers, instead of being seen as a weirdo). Fast forward a few years (again, glazing over some stuff for the sake of keeping this coherent, and also because I don't have all of the details smoothed out yet since this whole version is kinda a square peg in circle hole type situation), and he is both A. somehow actually working as a knight, for a man I am NOT getting into here because it is, again, a WHOLE other thing that's best to be explained in a different character's post (if he comes up again in this post, which. he definitely will. I'll just be referring to him as 'his (Jacian's) lord', since that's what Jacian calls him because he's just. Like That.) and B. has actually become someone's antagonistic rival; with that person being his 'Eternal Rival', Taiana (you'll hear more about her next week, but the long and short of it is that she's the blue-haired lord to his Camus archetype. ...For anyone who doesn't know jack shit about FE, she's the protagonist of the thing they're both from). And though he's only fighting her because he has been ordered to, (again, a story for later) he very much enjoys having someone who both takes him seriously, and is an even match for him swordplay-wise. Which is to say every duel that they have ends in a draw, which then motivates them both to train even more, and then the whole thing repeats. The two of them do end up becoming quite close though, with Jacian even developing feelings for her, which he is not very good at hiding, to say the least (Taiana is, however, a social brick wall so she doesn't realize At All despite that) and which only serves to further complicate things when Jacian receives the order to either kill her, or die trying.

Just real quick side note here - I swear this all makes a lot more logical sense in these two's original setting, however pigeon-holing plots into places that they have no write being is kinda just what I have to do sometimes to make characters work in alternate settings (because I can't just. change the plot, no that would make too much sense) so like. Just suspend your disbelief or whatever, or if you wanna see this shit in context feel free to go dig up my old OC ask blog (no I will not link it here, it's embarrassing) and read through the whole saga there (because yes, this is the SECOND time I'm adapting these two to a modern setting). It's definitely a bit rough, but like. It's also kind of peak I wrote like 20 pages and made a lot of people mad at me it was awesome (still not as good as the William stuff though, that was genuinely the peak of my comedic writing and the only overarching plot I did there that didn't lose steam and fall apart at the end).

Anyways back to the two 17 year olds dueling to the death.

Naturally, this... Doesn't end well. It doesn't really matter who wins, because either way the outcome is the same: Neither of them are willing to kill the other, and both would rather sacrifice themselves for the others sake. Despite being, well - rivals, they honestly understand each other perfectly and care a LOT about each other. And so once the duel ends, and the inevitable comes, Jacian chooses to try and take his own life via stabbing himself through the chest with his rapier rather than kill Taiana or force her to kill him herself.

Now, he doesn't die (though the how + why of that makes more sense to be explained in Taiana's post, so lookf forward to(?) that next week) but that doesn't necessarily mean things are great now either. Not only is he now dealing with the inner conflict resulting from him pretty much breaking his own code of honor and loyalty, but there's also now the bigger issue of needing to deal with/take down his lord, which is again. A Whole Thing I'm not gonna get into here. Just know that the situation is a lot more complex than either he or Taiana realizes, and that they have a big fight that then leads to all three of them pretty much going missing for a year, and most people assuming that they're dead (Jacian and Taiana aren't but his lord definitely is (they did not kill him, some other shit happened, It's Complicated).

And now, we finally get to the point that this version of Jacian is at, having finally come back from wherever the hell the two of them had been and acting as if nothing had ever happened! Though he definitely has become noticeably more reserved and less bombastic, only really going full ham when him and Taiana are goofing off and/or dueling (because yes they still do that, they are Eternal rivals after all, and just because they're dating now doesn't mean that that has changed. Oh yeah they finally got together, and it changed literally nothing about their dynamic.)

He takes his swordplay very seriously, and has two primary weapons; his trusty rapier, which is just. A standard rapier, he has it on him pretty much almost always, and his big-ass fuck-off great sword that has been passed down through his family for generations, and that may or may not have been blessed by/contain the power of a God of Lightning. (regardless of if it does or doesn't, it sure does have lightning powers regardless. And also since there's not really a better place to put this, Jacian is completely immune to electricity. ...He's still scared of thunderstorms, though. Though he's mostly gotten over that fear at the point of development that this version of him is at. Mostly.) He also usually wields it with one hand, which is impressive because again. It is Stupidly Big, but also he's just that cool. I mean come on, look at the doodle of him holding it (in the wrong hand because, even though I made sure to position his rapier on his design in a way that would make sense for him to unsheathe it with his right hand (despite it definitely being easier to just draw it on the other side so that most of it would be covered) I somehow then immediately forgot that he was right handed while drawing the doodle. Just. Pretend he's kinda ambidextrous or something (he actually kinda is) idk I'm just kinda stupid sometimes). He's so cool.

Aside from his friendship/rivalry/enemies-to-lovers with Taiana, he has quite a good number of other close friends (nearly all of which have been better adapted to the setting than him, because yes, they are ALSO all from the former fire emblem fangame, and a majority of them form his Squad in that universe. However the modern versions of them are honestly the main/base ones, so that checks out tbh. for them at least.) The 'main' four are Merridith, Chiuji, Kaitso and Kyō, all of whom, drumroll please, will get their own posts at some point, and all of whom get along with each other to degrees varying from besties (Merridith + Chiuji/Kaitso + Kyō) to actively beefing (Merridith + Kyō, though it's really just Merridith). There's also Gabbrielli, who is childhood friends with both Jacian and Taiana, and also may or may not be a actual prince. Allegedly. He has his own shit going on, only some of which is related to the Jacian and Taiana shit.

Design wise, I was going for basically 'Older, cooler Jacian' and to me that meant coat draped over shoulders like a cape - which actually worked super well, because he usually has a red cape, and I usually make the inside of his jacket red. Other than that, it's kinda a mish-mash of elements from other Jacian designs that I thought worked + the same boots he always has, but the soles are white now wowee; and of course, his signature flower, white lilies. Which fit him both aesthetically AND symbolically :] Oh, and I forgot to mention this earlier, but he goes by the moniker of 'White Lily Knight' because of course he does.

There is almost certainly more, I could say probably, but. I think this is MORE than enough for now, lmao.

...And i get to write just as much if not more for Taiana next week. Fun :']

Anyways. Yeah that's about it, I like Jacian a lot, he's just a goofy guy who also manages to be charming and cool, despite being a total dweebus. Probably (definitely) in my top 10 OCs :]

#weekly ocs #jacian (oc)#oc shiz #shook arts #I'M FREE #IT'S 5 AM AND I'M FREE #I HAVE WORK TOMORROW #FUCK #anyways enjoy the funny guy it's been too long since i've talked about/drawn/thought about him #gonna proofread this tmmrw also so. if there's any typos sorry i'll fix them later #also watch barely anyone even read this bc the post is so long tumblr hides it under a read more LMAO

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luckylockjaw · 10 months ago

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TIMING: Current LOCATION: Xóchitl's home PARTIES: Wyatt (@loftylockjaw), Mateo (@fearhims3lf), & Xóchitl (@vanishingreyes) SUMMARY: Wyatt and Mateo decide it's time to tell Xóchitl the truth about what they are. CONTENT WARNINGS: Child death (past mentions), vomiting (no detail)

—

He’d been unreachable for a few days again. His friends might as well start getting used to that, he thought—Wyatt just dropping off the radar for days at a time. It seemed like no matter what he did, it was always the wrong thing. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t keep himself together. He was unraveling, bit by bit, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do to stop it.

There were only a few things that could make him feel better, and even those paled in comparison to the one thing he knew he wanted, but should not want. It didn’t stop him, though. Kieran had been a saving fucking grace through most of this, offering a peace of mind that didn’t require any legwork on Wyatt’s part. No difficult conversations, no ‘coming to terms’ with one’s predicament, no dealing with the aching sadness that was shackled around his ankles. With Kieran, or more specifically, Kieran’s special blend of magical influence, it was easy. As easy as breathing. When he needed to, he could just… forget for a while. Feel good for a while. Enjoy himself and ignore the cloud that followed him around and the shadow that kept trying to strangle him.

But now he had Xóchitl and Mateo, didn’t he? What had started to develop with them was new and exciting, and even though it wasn’t quite so effortless as the situation he had with Kieran, he found himself wanting to try. Wanting to do better, to be better, maybe just to prove that he could. God, he just wanted someone to be proud of him, and if anyone was going to, he thought it might be them. But there was something standing in the way. Something big—something he and Mateo both needed to discuss with Xóchitl. At first, he’d been thinking about just telling her himself, but now that he knew Mateo’s truth, it didn’t feel right to open that can of worms without the mare at his side. Maybe together, they could make this easier for her. He hoped so.

As it seemed to have become their custom, Wyatt helped Mateo prepare some food for the three of them that evening with a stiffness in his spine that wasn’t normally there, but managed to persist all throughout dinner and the first round of drinks. They’d discussed how best to bring this up, how to explain it and how to make sure it didn’t freak her out, but Wyatt was nervous. He’d been rejected so many times in recent memory, he wasn’t sure if he could handle Xóchitl turning away from him, too. From either of them, or both of them. Fuck. He ran a hand through his hair, throwing a glance toward the couch where Xó was currently sitting alone, waiting for them to rejoin her with fresh beverages.

The worry was clear in his expression, eyes betraying the lurking fear. “I dunno,” he said in a low whisper, careful to not be heard over the sound of the television. “Maybe tonight ain’t the night for it.”

—

There was a lot that could be said about the last few months of her life, and a lot of that which could be not so great, but some of it was really good. Xóchitl didn’t like to be overly excitable – after all, that usually ended in disappointment. But she had people who wanted her, and though that itself wasn’t necessarily new (she’d used people wanting her too much throughout her life to distract herself from any number of other trains of thought), it still felt different, somehow. Miraculously. She very much enjoyed the attention, and the addition of Wyatt into whatever was going on felt near-seamless. Like it was meant to be. What had started as casual remarks had turned out to be far more real, and she needed this. Needed the stability that both Mateo and Wyatt provided her. The safety and security.

She wasn’t stupid enough to believe that this was all sunshine and rainbows. That version of her had died on that same April day that she lost her best friend, her other half, the sunlight to her shadow (that much had been thought of in a particularly angsty middle school mood). What was more accurate was probably that Mackenzie herself was a shadow. Xóchitl’s shadow, more specifically. Something she’d never be rid of, something that was a part of her, that she couldn’t carve off even if she wanted to.

Not that she wanted to, but sometimes she’d wondered what it would be like without the ghost (figurative, obviously) of her best friend over her shoulder her entire life. She had a good feeling that was a good portion of the reason why she was so certain she’d be an awful mother. She already had a child she was watching over (two, if you counted her inner child or whatever bullshit one of her therapists had come up with), and she was doing a pretty crummy job of that.

Mateo and Wyatt were both over tonight, and yeah, maybe Xóchitl had bought a new dress that she knew every part of her looked extra good in, and the two of them were off in the kitchen making something that she knew would be every bit of delightful, and she sat on the couch. Dinner had already been wonderful, and she couldn’t help but glance in the direction of the kitchen, wondering if she should go and offer to help, but ultimately deciding to fidget instead with her glass. She pulled out her phone and looked at the photo-of-a-photo of her and Mackenzie. Tongues sticking out, both bright blue, eyes squeezed as shut as they could make them, arms effortlessly wrapped around each other. “I’m gonna make things right for you, you know?” She whispered at the screen, and then, in Spanish, “I promise. On my life and on every single ice cream sundae you never got to have.”

—

Sticking around in one place wasn’t supposed to happen, let alone growing attached to people. Two, specifically. Doing that was dangerous, the amount of reasons a little overwhelming and mounting. The ones from Mateo’s job alone should’ve deterred him from doing such a thing.

And yet…

He scrubbed at the dishes while Wyatt topped off the drinks, bobbing his head absentmindedly to the song quietly playing from the speakers on the counter, while something played just a little louder on the television.

The drums, the bass, and the rhythm kept his brain occupied for the merest of moments, sending them back to the days he felt were so simple. Afternoons after a carne asada at his tías house, all his cousins and his brother congregated at the special club house they made. It was just a detached set of stairs from a thrown out mobile home, but it was theirs. They could sit on it and jump on it and play pretend while their parents talked into the night, playing lotería to top it all off. The memories were so vivid that the dishes in Mateo’s hands turned into playing cards, and the music was just Junior shouting for him to freeze during freeze tag, and the knife—it wasn’t supposed to be there. It wasn’t supposed to—His brother—

“Fuck.” He whispered to himself, skin on his thumb sliced. Glitter collected in the wound and the mare grumbled just before hearing Wyatt’s hesitancy. Quickly, Mateo pressed a clean rag against his wound in a fist while his other hand urged Wyatt’s chin to turn to him. His expression was as soft and calm as he could make it, reflecting gently on his voice. “If not tonight, then when? We’ll only keep putting it off.” Mateo leaned in slowly, meeting Wyatt’s lips in a soft kiss. Pulling away, he adjusted his red shades and tilted his head down to reveal his glowing eyes with a smirk. “Can’t keep looking like a douche with sunglasses inside, okay?” Checking his thumb, Mateo was happy to see that the bleeding was done, and he patted his hands against his pants before getting himself ready to head to the living room.

“Now get the orange peel garnish onto those drinks. They’ll take off the edge.”

—

The fingertips on his jaw as his head was turned to face Mateo drew a soft groan from him, one that was born both of anxiety and the ever-present need to be touched. His steely blue gaze dropped to the other’s hand, having registered the quiet exclamation and spotting the rag in the hand. “I know, but…” The thought went unfinished as he was offered a kiss instead, which did manage to help calm his nerves a little. But only a little. The following joke chipped away another nugget of fear, making Wyatt chuckle breathily. Mateo was right, of course. This wasn’t sustainable at all, for a lot of reasons. One of which included the injuries that Xóchitl would undoubtedly start noticing, now that he had fewer excuses to keep himself away from her while he healed after a fight. He was… he was going to tell her all of it. He had to. He couldn’t handle the pressure of keeping secrets from her anymore, and he didn’t want to have to. He just hoped that she’d be able to find it in herself to understand.

“Okay, okay,” he agreed, picking up an orange from the fruit bowl sitting on the counter, rummaging around in the drawers for a moment before finding the peeler and getting to work making the garnishes. Twisting them into spirals, making sure the vapors landed in the drinks, Wyatt plopped them where they belonged and picked up two glasses, leaving the third for Mateo to grab. “Your finger okay?” he asked as they began to walk into the living room again, hesitating on the threshold for only a moment before entering the space and handing Xóchitl her new drink once he was close enough. He sat on one side of her, Mateo taking up his post on the opposite side, and he could feel his heart racing. How did you even… start this conversation? He glanced apprehensively at Mateo again, clearing his throat and taking a sip of the cocktail before setting it aside and reaching for the remote to mute what they’d been watching. The music still played softly from the kitchen, and he was glad that it wasn’t dead silent.

“Hey, so… there’s somethin’... we wanna, uh, talk to you about.” He stumbled through the sentence, smiling awkwardly for the briefest of moments to at least indicate to her that it wasn’t bad… at least not in any way that Xóchitl might have been anticipating. Wyatt paused, leaning forward to prop an elbow on his knee, pushing his fingers over his mouth in a thoughtful gesture. He sucked in a sharp breath, but nothing was coming to him. I’m not human. It was that simple, but it wasn’t fucking simple at all, actually. His gaze jumped from the random spot on the floor he’d been staring at to instead find Mateo’s gaze, begging silently for help.

—

She had to admit, all the attention was even better than she’d imagined. Xóchitl was also fairly pleased with herself and with the fact that she didn’t feel jealous about whatever Mateo and Wyatt got up to on their own. She’d wondered if she might, but that was the beauty of this, wasn’t it? They could pair off and do whatever they wanted to with each other, or they could do things all three of them. It left many options open, and she appreciated each one.

Xóchitl could practically feel herself brighten as the two of them entered the room. Taking the drink from him and an immediate sip, she looked between the two men, posture going tight when Wyatt muted the television and didn’t just turn it off. It probably meant nothing, but ever since coming back from Ireland, she had been more easily spooked, and unfortunately and apparently that even included by some of the people she trusted most. She loathed psychoanalyzing herself (she’d hated it enough when people had been paid to do it), and much preferred to just let herself be. Or not be, a lot of the time. Drinking helped with that. She didn’t know if this drink was strong enough, but she wasn’t going to complain.

She often only complained if it brought her some sort of pleasure, and putting down Wyatt or Mateo wouldn’t do that. Besides, the drink was probably plenty strong. She just had a weirdly high tolerance for these things. If weirdly high was what they were calling it these days. Which, of course, they weren’t, but she wasn’t exactly about to go around naming exactly what it was. It was obvious enough, Xóchitl figured, and she was at least usually careful enough for it not to be any real worry.

Something they wanted to talk to her about. Xóchitl took a deep breath and another giant gulp of her drink, before she set it on the table. “If you two want to just be a duo, that’s… fine.” Xóchitl looked between the two of them, though her poker face wasn’t as well-kept as usual. She knew it said but what about me? And Xóchitl didn’t mean for it to, because she was usually a jealous person, but she liked to think that she was at least seventy percent of the reason why any of this had happened in the first place, and she wasn’t exactly keen to lose either of them. She looked between the two of them. Looked down at her hands. Rubbed her fingers against her eyes in some half-formed attempt to see better, or distract herself, or something. “What’s the matter?”

—

Ah, shit.

The mare scrubbed at his stubble while the conversation quickly went the absolute wrong direction. “Okay.” Mateo said pointedly, clapping his hands together and seating himself next to Wyatt with a pat to his knee. He reached for one of the drinks and took a giant gulp before lightly slamming it back to the table. “That’s not where this is going, ma. Not at all. So, let’s jot that down real quick before spiraling.” He reassured as best he could with his usual humor and lax flair, but he wasn’t sure if that was the right call. Xóchitl usually appreciated it.

Usually.

“There’s a few things we’re trying to air out—like…like things that are important for you to know. Nothing about breaking up. No, uh, nothing like that. It’s just…” Mateo sighed deeply, frustrated with himself at being unable to just say the truth. He felt ridiculous, really. Confidence was something he never had to struggle with, but the truth? Well, Mateo ran from it, constantly. Sometimes he wasn’t sure if he was even honest with himself. He knew the answer, somewhere deep down, but that didn’t really matter right then. He needed to focus, and after a squeeze to Wyatt’s thigh, Mateo decided to rip off the bandaid. Or rather, his shades, revealing his glowing red eyes.

“It’s this.” He gestured to his eyes, swiping his drink and downing the rest of it. “We’re different.”

—

Wyatt looked taken aback at her reaction, not having expected that. At worst, he’d thought maybe she figured he was going to tell her that this situationship wasn’t something he could do, or… any number of other things, but them walking away from her together? He didn’t know what to say, gaze darting over to Mateo when he (thank fuck) grabbed onto the reins to try and stop this runaway horse. (He was a mare. There was a joke in there somewhere, but the punchline got lost in Wyatt’s anxiety.)

Okay, so maybe Mateo wasn’t having the easiest time with this, either. How did you just tell someone ‘hey, by the way, I’m not human!’ when they were, and they so clearly didn’t believe in that kind of thing? She was going to think they were crazy, or… or something, he didn’t know what, he just knew it wouldn’t be good. He knew it was going to upset this amazing thing they had, he just hoped it wouldn’t be forever.

“Yeah, it’s not—definitely not that,” Wyatt agreed quickly, hoping that if he picked up where Mateo had left off, the words would come.

They did not.

Mateo squeezed his leg and he gave him a worried glance, brows raising when he saw him just… take off his glasses. The lamia stared for a few seconds in a stunned silence, then figured… yeah. Showing was way easier than telling. “... yeah. Different,” he parroted the other, dragging his gaze back to face Xóchitl, blinking away his blue eyes to instead reveal his natural yellow ones, complete with vertical slits for pupils. “We just… thought that you should know. And we want to…” his gaze darted briefly over to Mateo, then back again, “...explain it. We’re still… us.” Fuck’s sake, he sounded like a dork. He needed to shut up and let her just have a moment to react.

—

She didn’t know what, exactly, she was expecting them to say.

“Okay.” It wasn’t about breaking up. Which she’d sort of figured out already. She didn’t like to think of herself as self centered, but Xóchitl also knew that except for once, she’d never been let go out of any sort of situation she’d found herself in. She’d made sure of that. Xóchtil wasn’t going to be the one left again. Not ever. It had happened once, and she was going to do everything in her power to be a leaver, rather than someone left. Ideally neither, but she was stupid or naive enough to think that nobody ever left anybody else.

She wasn’t a child. She didn’t know when she’d last really been one.

It wasn’t the time to think about that right now, not when it made her feel sick and she very much wanted to be as level-headed as possible.

Which was becoming hard when both of their eyes changed and Xóchitl couldn’t help but let out at least the start of a scream before biting down so hard on her tongue she was nearly positive it would bleed. “I – what?” She shot up from the couch, side-stepping both of them until she was around the coffee table. “I – what?” She repeated, then in Spanish, “what is happening? What the hell is going on? This doesn’t make any sense.” Back to English, “what – I’ve never seen eyes that do that. Has it been checked by a doctor? Are you – what?”

—

Okay, so she didn’t scream, not exactly. Which had to be good. She didn’t run when she stood, but the fact that she placed distance between them and herself, albeit small, still managed to sting. After months of being what he thought was at least a decent boyfriend, Mateo was still likely now a monster in her eyes. It shouldn’t have hurt because he had lied to her the entire time, but it did.

Regardless of that though, Mateo stood up and made a ‘calm down’ motion with his hands. “It’s okay. It’s okay, cariña. Doctors can’t check them.” When Xóchitl switched her tongue, so did Mateo. “No one we don’t know or trust can check them or know that we’re different.” He kept his voice as calm as possible, extending a hand to Xóchitl, palm faced up.

“That’s why you get to know though. We trust you and want to still be…” Gesturing to himself and the other two with his free hand, Mateo worried his lip, only continuing after a breath. “Us. If you wanna hear us explain, it would mean a lot. And-and we’ll answer any questions you have.” He swallowed thickly, exhaling shakily as his eyes met Xóchitl’s and spoke in their native tongue. A small gesture only she was allowed to hear, like a language between lovers. Because it was. “I love you. I know it’s scary, but I needed to show you the truth. Couldn’t hide it from someone I love anymore.”

—

Wyatt wasn’t sure why he’d hoped that she’d be surprised but okay. His anxiety over having this conversation came from a place of truer understanding that it wouldn’t be okay, but still he had foolishly hoped… but she was drawing away from them, fear in her eyes and a tremble in her voice. It was expected. It was, but…

The lamia stayed put on the couch even after Mateo stood, running a hand through his hair. He kept his gaze focused down on the floor, trying to follow the parts of conversation that switched to Spanish, but his comprehension was pretty lacking. That damn Duo owl hadn’t exactly gone over the ins and outs of having a conversation about coming out as supernatural. He felt suddenly out of place in the room and had to fight the urge to get up and leave, bouncing his leg nervously where he sat and wringing his hands. Would she kick them out? Would she never speak to them again? It was her choice, of course, and it wasn’t one Wyatt could really fault her for, even if it would hurt like hell.

Honestly? He worried more for Mateo than he did himself. Wyatt had grown used to the rejection over the last decade and a half, he had already resigned himself to being the worst option for anyone who showed an interest in him. And while that’d always been in the back of his mind even with these two, it had been a particularly blissful blanket of ignorance that he’d wrapped himself in every time they were all together. He knew that their future almost certainly had no room for him, but now he worried that it didn’t have room for Mateo, either. This had been a joint decision between the two men, but he still felt responsible, somehow. Like his mere presence had necessitated this conversation that was forming a rift. He didn’t want to do that to them.

But… he also wasn’t going to abandon Mateo in this, so he stayed put, trying not to draw attention to himself.

—

Her whole body was still tense. She didn’t like it. It was an uncomfortable feeling and not one that she was used to having around the two men who were sitting across the room from her. With either or both of them she usually felt safe, incredibly so. It was something she took for granted – that much she was well aware of – but she hadn’t figured the alternative was something like this. Xóchitl tugged on the ends of her hair in some falsified way of trying to ground herself. It was, at least, a better alternative than collapsing onto the couch.

Mateo was speaking to her in Spanish and that, at least, helped her focus, just a bit. She reached out, put her hand in his, her chest rising and falling with desperate, quick breaths. Mateo and Wyatt could usually calm her down easily. Wyatt had dealt with panic attacks that she’d had ten-odd years ago, in clubs or even when they went out for burgers and she saw a family with a little blonde girl. “But it’s — we’re – us?” She bit the edge of her tongue as hard as she could, forced herself to think at least a bit before she spoke.

She looked up, looked at the two people who she was completely in love with and she felt herself burst into tears, tearing her hand away from Mateo’s. “I – but what are you? What is…?” Xóchitl thought to her conversation with Emilio, to how much she still didn’t understand and still didn’t really believe. Except now was it anything other than willful ignorance? Emilio didn’t lie, Emilio knew about this stuff, and yet… her thoughts kept bouncing around, entirely out of control. “Not – I – you’re…” she shook her head. “Not – you’re not whats. Did you – do – Mackenzie – she –” This time, Xóchitl did collapse onto the floor. “She – I – she – ” she dug her nails into her thighs. “I – she was – something killed her. Not r-rocks. Not– something – something evil.”

—

It felt wrong. Everything about what was happening felt like the axis of Mateo's world had been skewed entirely too far. For the first time in a long time, the mare felt like he needed to breathe, dust rolling off his lungs as something disturbed the space and constricted uncomfortably tight in his chest. Mateo choked on air at how strange it was to not have the relief release him from his panic, and the world twisted as hard as his lungs did.

“I…” Mateo fell back into the couch behind him, accidentally pulling Xóchitl along with him as he braced himself on Wyatt's thigh. He looked back at the man, and then back at Xóchitl, until he decided he preferred to look at the floor instead when he heard the name of a girl that never got to grow up. Killed by something evil, and Mateo didn't know how to feel about that fact now that he was airing out his truth.

He killed all the time, and that was bad, but there was a difference to what he did. Right? There was a code to follow, morals to adhere to. Mateo would never hurt a child. Hell, he killed people that did. So there was a difference. That's what he told himself when he looked back at Xóchitl and squeezed Wyatt's thigh for reassurance.

“I'm something called a mare-not like a horse. Like…nightmare.” His posture stiffened, “I make people have nightmares and take that energy. It's-it's why you're able to sleep through the night. I can make people sleep.” A trembled sigh stuttered past his lips, and Mateo squeezed his eyes shut until he saw stars and focused. “Can be evil, but I'd never hurt a kid. I…I actually go after people who do, but, uh, yeah. I'll let Wyatt say his piece.”

—

Wyatt wasn't sure what to say. He couldn’t sit here and pretend like he adhered to a strict moral code. If Xóchitl was worried about them being evil like whatever had killed her friend… he wasn't the perfect antithesis to that. Mateo might be, under a certain lens, but Wyatt?

He sucked in a long breath, frustrated to find that yet again, he could not be his true, authentic self. But that was okay. He was used to being a pretender. At least he'd spilled every last bean to Caleb. At least he had that. Whatever they were… they were honest. And he wanted to be honest with Xóchitl too, but… how could he? How could he, when she was so fucking scared? She had every right to be. Every reason. Things like Wyatt didn't deserve innocent girls like her. It wasn't fair to her. It wasn't right. He should walk away.

But instead, true to his own selfish nature, he stayed. He put a hand over the top of the one on his thigh, fingers curling beneath Mateo’s palm to give it a quick return squeeze.

“There's a lot of evil things out there, cher. The best way you can make sure you're safe from ‘em is to.. to know ‘em. Learn about ‘em. Accept what you never thought was possible as bein’ true.” He paused before continuing, his attention drifting somewhere into the middle distance. “I was born different. Hell, I weren't even born like either of you.” Saying out loud that he'd hatched from an egg felt like too much right now, so he just left it at that. “I'm a… shapeshifter.” The obvious example to make to help her understand was, of course, a werewolf, but he was nothing like a werewolf. “A lamia. I don't really got any cool abilities like Doctor Sleep over here, but… I'm scrappy. Hard to kill. And it's a bit on the nose what with the bayou redneck of it all, but… I look somethin’ like a big alligator.” He dropped his chin, thinking about how he'd been lying to her all these years. “That’s… who I really am. This is…” he looked down at his human form and shrugged, “Well, this helps me fit in. I'm sorry I never said nothin’ before. Didn't know how. Still don't.”

—

In all her panic, Xóchitl realized that she hadn’t entirely taken into account their reactions. Which was unlike her – she wanted people to be happy, especially those she loved, and she did love them both. Deeply. In ways that, on a clichéd level, she didn’t think possible. But she was always meant to lose those close to her, wasn’t she? It wasn’t death, but there was no way that she could handle this, could she? Even she wasn’t sure that she could, because this was all too much.

Xóchitl wasn’t even sure that she could process what the both of them were saying. Mare-not-horse and giant alligator. Which weren’t real, but Emilio had told her things about shape-shifters and stuff like that and Emilio wouldn’t lie and she didn’t really see a reason why either Mateo or Wyatt would, either.

She was going to be sick. That much she knew. So she shook her head, darted toward the bathroom and let herself be sick into the toilet, three times over. Then she washed her mouth out with mouthwash and made her way back into the living room. “I– sorry.” She didn’t know exactly why she was apologizing, but it was all she could manage to get out.

“You – you’ve always been that, then?” She looked directly at Wyatt. “Back in Boston, too? What’s – who – Doctor Sleep?” Her brow furrowed in deep confusion. “You made me sleep? But you’re – how is that possible? How are you,” she turned back to Wyatt, “an alligator? You look like – well, you know – you look like you. This you. Is it some sort of mirage?”

—

Wyatt was talking, but the mare didn't really hear anything while anxiety crept over him. Having to explain the nitty gritty details felt uncomfortable, which was strange to Mateo because he rarely felt that way. He liked who he was, he enjoyed his abilities and the possibilities that came with them. Not aging was pretty baller, but explaining it all came with a dread Mateo had been avoiding since he died. Regardless of how much he wanted to be a mare, he had to accept the horrors that came with that decision. What it meant to die terrified.

His own brother killed him.

His brother killed him, saw the deepest and darkest fears that he tucked away for no one to find, and killed him. And Mateo let him do it–begged him to because he wanted the life he was currently living. He could do without some parts, but those feelings were tucked away now too. Only this time, no one would be able to find them. Mateo hoped he wouldn't either. He didn't like looking within often, and it felt like hours before Xóchitl came back after getting sick. Sitting there with a grip he didn't realize was tightening while too in thought. Mateo let out a shaky breath and cleared his throat, removing his hand reluctantly to give Wyatt's thigh a break.

Mateo blinked and stared through Xóchitl, pausing way too long after not realizing there was a question pointed to him. His mouth opened and closed several times before something finally cracked its way through. He swallowed, “Uh, yeah. I don't sleep so I just keep an eye on you and when you, uh…” Mateo nodded his head side to side, trying to broach the next part of what he was. “When you get restless and start to wake up, I just touch your arm and you usually calm down. I mean, I don't just watch you all night either. I get up and dick around for a while and slide back in before your alarm goes off.” His voice lowered, saying the final part with fear weighing his voice. “‘Cause undead don't sleep.”

—

“Yeah.” It was said quickly, Wyatt’s voice laden heavy with guilt. “Back in Boston, too.” He was quiet while Mateo explained his own part of this a little further, leaning back on the couch and running both hands up through his hair. This sucked. This sucked a lot.

“I mean… this is me, I guess. It ain't a trick, just… not how I was born. Not how I grew up. I learned how to change my appearance, how to look human. But I ain't ever really been human.” Dropping his hands back to his sides, he finally forced himself to meet Xóchitl’s gaze. “I know… I know this changes a lot for you. I get that. It’s weird n’ scary, n’ I get that. We both do. But…” He glanced at Mateo, his expression pained. “But it don’t change anythin’ for us, you know? We still feel the same. And we… we wanted to tell you ‘cuz we felt you deserved to know.” Clasping his hands in front of him and leaning forward to rest his forearms onto his knees, the shifter dropped his gaze to the floor again. “But if it’s too much, we understand. We were ready for that. Just didn’t feel right keepin’ it all a secret no more. If it’s too much, we can leave you be.”

—

“Undead. Right. Shapeshifter…” The more she repeated the words didn’t help to make them make any more sense. “Right.” If anything, it was like when she said or wrote a word so many times that it seemed to become totally fake. Except both of those were things that Emilio had brought up, and didn’t he kill the undead? Did that mean that Mateo was in danger? Was she supposed to panic about the two men in front of her being in danger, when they were bad – because all of that sort of thing was. Except they were people and the things – the leprechauns – that had killed Mackenzie weren’t. That didn’t mean that Xóchitl was any less uneasy.

“Okay.” Xóchitl moved to go sit on the edge of the couch. Not ready to go and sit in her usual spot, in between the two of them, somewhere where she had found such an intense sense of comfort she would’ve called magic (even though it wasn’t real) but now she felt shaky, and she felt like she was going to break, nearly. She’d made it her goal to not become close to people – because she could lose them – they could die, so easily, but somehow this almost felt worse than if they’d died – which wasn’t fair to say, considering her grief hadn’t truly gotten better in twenty-two years – and she wasn’t sure how she’d deal with directly watching other people she loved die.

Her head was spinning again.

“Why now?” She picked at her nails, not caring what sort of damage came to her cuticles. Or anything. Hardly even paying attention that she was causing any sort of damage. “This is – it’s so much.” Was it too much? Probably.

—

The mare nodded absentmindedly while Wyatt spoke, and he took the opportunity to sit back on the couch. Every now and then, Mateo's gaze would drift to Xóchitl, and they would hover over every one of her features. He was memorizing the curve of her jaw, the rise and fall of her breath, how her nose led to her brow, and the way he missed her eyes the moment she blinked.

It felt ridiculous to feel that way, but love wasn't exactly logical, was it? That's why he was taking the risk of telling Xóchitl everything. Logic had flown out the window, and Mateo put love first. That meant being honest, even if it was at a cost. “Because if we're going to be serious, and really do this, it wouldn't have been right to not say something.” He sighed blearily, scrubbing his face. “It was the right thing to do, and like Wyatt said, we knew the risk. We just felt like you were worth that, regardless of it.”

—

Where his counterpart was taking her in, memorizing her features in case he wouldn’t be allowed to see them anymore, Wyatt was pushing himself away from the crack in their foundation, being careful not to let himself be swallowed by it. It was a familiar struggle, one he’d been through several times already, even here, in this fucking town. He remembered that night at Caleb’s, and how he’d pushed back the moment he was met with resistance. With lack of understanding. It hadn’t been Caleb, but he didn’t know that at the time, and it was just a familiar role for him to fall into. He’d stepped back, he’d let the walls rise up again and cut them off from each other. He’d grown cold and angry.

He didn’t want that now, but it was hard to stop himself from returning to old habits. He wasn’t mad, but frustrated and anxious, and he couldn’t sit still any longer. The shifter rose swiftly to his feet, moving away from the couch to instead pace at the other side of the room. His eyes scanned their surroundings, finding the front door and lingering there. Something screamed at him to bolt, but he bit down on his tongue and focused on putting one foot in front of the other, back and forth, back and forth.

This conversation was so much easier when the person he was coming clean to was also non-human. Like with Mateo — it’d been, what, five minutes of discussion? Some surprise, and that was it? This was miserable. He hated making Xó feel so conflicted. Wouldn’t it be kinder to just leave?

“You don’t gotta figure this out now,” he blurted, coming to a halt to face them again and crossing his arms over his chest. “You can — if you need time to figure out how you feel, that’s okay.”

—

She’d been so angry for so long.

She wasn’t sure why she wasn’t reacting with the anger she would’ve expected, the anger that was so tightly wound up inside of her that sometimes she wasn’t distinguishable from her sorrow.

Wyatt got up and her mouth opened to tell him to sit back down, but no words came out.

It wouldn’t have been right to not say something, Mateo said, and Xóchitl’s head spun. Maybe so, but it was also terrible to have said something. They’d decided not to lie to her any more, but she wasn’t sure if this was any better.

Her breath was unsteady and all she really wanted was for someone to hug her and squeeze her so tight that she didn’t have to think about anything else. Except she wasn’t sure she wanted either Wyatt or Mateo to touch her right now. She needed some sort of human contact – which, she supposed, they weren’t. She wanted them to be. She wanted everyone to be, and for that to make Mackenzie alive again.

“I – ” Xóchitl began. Slid off of the couch and onto the floor. “It’s so much.”

—

Wyatt rose unexpectedly, and Mateo flinched, for whatever reason. He could see the lamia eyeing the door, and for the first time in a long time, Mateo wanted to cry. There was a very real chance he'd end up alone again. It was probably for the best, if he were honest with himself. He always dragged down the people he loved, and who knows what would happen next if Mateo were to tell either of them about his even bigger secret?

He decided to not dwell on it too much, keeping his mouth shut to not beg Wyatt to stay. To take him into consideration, despite rarely giving others a chance. Mateo knew he deserved to be alone, but god, he was also selfish. He always had been, his father made that clear. “Yeah,” He said deflatedly, moving his gaze back to the floor, “It's a lot. We don't have to stay here if you don't wanna. I wouldn't hate you for that.”

—

This wasn’t getting anywhere. They seemed to have all hit a wall, and it was making Wyatt’s anxiety spike higher and higher.

There was a reason he was never able to maintain a romantic relationship. This was it. At the first sign of conflict, his gut reaction was to flee. Fight or flight, that was all he knew. There was little room for compromise, for bargaining, for patience and understanding. He needed people to understand him first, because he was incapable of rising above his base instincts and making time and room for someone else to decide whether or not they still liked him. Any time they showed doubt, he left. He wasn’t going to beg for love, for affection. As desperately as he wanted it, he wasn’t going to beg.

And that’s where he always went wrong. Still, Wyatt managed to keep his feet rooted in place, but his heart was pounding in his chest and he felt lightheaded. He looked to Mateo, unable to observe Xó as her world fell apart around her any longer, unable to put his own selfish needs aside for one more second. So he focused on Mateo, and what he saw on the mare’s face didn’t make him feel any fucking better. He looked close to tears.

He couldn’t take this anymore.

“What do you want?” he asked Xóchitl pointedly. There wasn’t malice in his voice, not exactly, but it was clear that he was stressed to hell and just wanted to get out of there if nothing of value was going to be said. “What do you want us to do?”

—

“Then leave.” She said, a whisper at first.

“Leave!” The shouting came abruptly and too quickly in succession. “Get out.” Back to a nearly monotone voice.

Xóchitl had never had many friends, but that had always been by choice. She’d even been somewhat popular back in high school – and middle school too. She supposed being able to shop at Limited Too as much as she wanted and get one of those Coach wristlets everybody had wanted. Basic-as-fuck white girl shit, and it had somewhat been because Mackenzie had never had the chance to do that, but all the same. She’d been popular, but she’d never tried to hold on to friends.

But now she’d had people and she was going to be all alone again.

She’d had love, twice over, even, and now she was going to be alone.

“I –” Xóchitl did her best to steady her voice. “Don’t want to see either of you. I need you to get out. I – you can’t be this. I don’t…” there went her goal to keep her voice steady. “I don’t know how to puzzle this all together. I don’t know if I can, right now. So just go. Leave your keys.”

—

Mateo's world shattered with two simple words, and in his nature, he had to act out. Quietly or loudly, it didn't matter. He stood up quickly, forcing himself to not shed a tear as he finagled with his key ring to place the key to her place on the table. It slammed softly, and scraped against the wood as it slid across. Without another word, he left in a blink, disappearing without a trace. Back to where he belonged. Alone.

—

Wyatt sighed. He wasn’t surprised, this was the end result he’d expected, but it hurt more watching Mateo flee like that. And flee he sure had. The anxiety that’d had him ready to bolt for the door leveled out pretty quickly once he had his answer, once there wasn’t any more fear of the unknown. She was done with them. He didn’t know if that meant Mateo was done with him too, but he’d figure that out later.

With an unbothered nod, he tried not to let his anger seep through. She didn’t deserve anger, he just had too much of it inside of him, always springing at any opportunity to be let loose. His hands worked to free the key from its carabiner clip, fished from his pocket. He tossed it onto the table beside Mateo’s, then turned and left without another word, gathering his jacket near the front door and shrugging it on before stepping out into the cool night.

Without much thought, as he started to walk out toward the road, he pulled out his phone and went to find Caleb’s name in his list of contacts.

“... hey, you busy tonight?”

—

They both left, and it had been just what she’d asked them to do, and so then why did it feel so wrong and hollow once they were gone? It was another loss, and she’d directly brought this one on herself, but that didn’t mean that Xóchitl had to like it at all.

Their keys reflected her living room lights and she pushed them off, suddenly – off of the coffee table and onto the floor. She made her way over to the kitchen, to a fresh bottle of something – when she finally cared to look, the bottle said whiskey. She drank it all, holding onto it once again like a life preserver. Didn’t bother making it to her bed, spent a good amount of the night scrolling on her phone, wondering if maybe they would text her back. But they wouldn’t, she’d told them to leave her alone, and they were doing that.

It was better this way, wasn’t it? It had to be.

She sent an email to her work, saying she’d be out the next week, personal reasons. She had enough days banked.

#. thread ;#. with ; mateo lara #. with ; xochitl reyes #. pretenders ;#child death tw #vomiting tw

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46ten · 1 year ago

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Were some of AH's reactions over-the-top?

@icarusbetide wrote the following here:

and i'm paying attention to what you said about how "He viewed things differently than they because he had different motivations" - that's generally how i feel about the reynolds pamphlet, because i can very much see the reasoning behind why he did it, even if it was a terrible political decision. a lot of his actions can definitely be accounted for by thinking of his priorities, which a lot of scholars have nicely argued were public integrity, honor, fame.

do you think there is something illogical/irrational in a lot of his over-the-top reactions to slander, or do you similarly think they are ill-considered but still rational? i don't have an answer, because i think they make sense given his aforementioned priorities, but i've also seen people argue that that level of intensity and "rabidness" probably had some psychological basis. flexner in the young hamilton seems to lean heavily into that (i have grievances with that book in general so i'm not taking his word for it lol), arguing that hamilton would revert to this insecure, child-like mindset at crucial moments - this isn't really about bipolar disorder or ADHD, but i wanted to ask if you think there's merit in that general idea!

I hate Flexner, and others do, too. I think psychobiography is not at all helpful to history, as a discipline, as "facts" are made up to support the psychological speculation.

It's hard for me to come up with hard examples of AH behaving "irrationally" in his life - that was not his personality at all. He was overly rational, an over-thinker at times. And he was also decisive - he would take this risk if he thought that outcome was worth it, but he does not strike me as someone unaware of the pros and cons who was just marching on. (His rationality, his ability to see many sides, his clear-headed thinking and ability to move that to action, and then his judgement, are qualities his colleagues praised about him - which doesn't mean that he didn't have examples of what they considered to be poor judgment - hello Adams pamphlet.)

To discuss the Reynolds Pamphlet briefly, since this is often suggested as an example of how crazy and impulsive/reckless AH was, he spent at least a month composing it. It's long and detailed. He explains why he's writing it. Considering we have it - documented - that AH consulted with some of his friends about dueling Aaron Burr (another example where it's in fashion to claim AH was some crazy loner guy making bizarre choices), I'd speculate that he discussed writing the pamphlet with EH, John Church, Oliver Wolcott, and William Jackson almost certainly, maybe Fish, Troup, Clarkson....He may have discussed it with Philip Schuyler! [He didn't get as far as he did in military/professional/political life without understanding the idea of consultation and seeing all sides to the problem, even if he wasn't aiming for full consensus.]

Callendar's pamphlets (which we no longer have copies of - historians are working from the History...of 1796 and AH's quotes in the Reynolds Pamphlet) took aim at whether AH was a trustworthy public servant - the intent was to wound his public character. He is absolutely going to need to respond to that in some way. The way he wants to respond to it, however, is to have the editor (Fenno) disavow it, and then to have the men (Monroe, Venable, Muhlenberg) to whom he provided an explanation of the Reynolds Affair way back in December 1792 provide him with letters stating that Callendar's allegations are false. He is furious when Monroe refuses, esp when Monroe states that he didn't really believe AH at the time! He's pretty ticked off that he instead has to argue his own innocence himself, and he lets the reader know he's ticked off to have to do this. That's not reckless, impulsive, crazy behavior. The issue, really, is the amount of detail he provides: not only "I didn't do that," but "I instead was doing this...." He is "too honest," "MOST INDISCREET" as GM probably would have put it! But this was also him putting all his arguments out there - this is what you should judge me for, because I was innocent of that other thing - and besides politicians knowing since 1793, the general public already knew (it's in the press by 1795) that there were accusations of adultery around him. He really wasn't revealing anything except rather excruciating details of the affair, but that again, is his "too honest" style and his thinking like the lawyer he is - "I'm giving you guys all the facts!" There may have also been some thinking that by providing all these facts, it would shame folks in the future and he could avoid being the subject of similar attacks - he may have also wanted to correct people on the record about his adultery; it's difficult to say. (Maybe this link to all my posts on the Reynolds Pamphlet will work, for those interested.)

One of AH's best friends, Robert Troup, states "his ill-judged pamphlet has done him incomparable injury," and Webster's quotes are pretty well known - the common objection is sort of a "why respond at all?" Well, AH explains why he responded - it's not unreasonable.

Let me bring this back to Flexner and his speculation that this has to do with some awful childhood events (that we have no record happened) and his resulting insecurity from it. There's no basis for thinking this. No evidence, no assertions from AH that this is a concern for him - it's just a story to sell books (come on down, Chernow!) Now if we're going to argue that some of AH's defensiveness around attacks on his public character came from his being an outsider, so therefore often having to re-assert his position in the gentleman circle, that may carry more weight - and some scholars do argue that. But I don't think AH, through most of his life, thought of himself as an outsider on the American scene.

If you give me some examples of what you consider to be over-the-top reactions to slander, I may try to respond to a few. I am planning a response to your questions about AH's personality, if that's okay, which I will post in a few days.

#alexander hamilton #reynolds pamphlet

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daydreamsandafternoonteafics · 6 months ago

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Let's Pretend It's Love- Chapter 25

banner by ren

“Presley! Your cat peed on my carpet again!!"

I groaned, turning on my side whilst pulling the duvet over my head hoping to drown out the shrill voice and drift back off to sleep. Since loosing my job and simultaneously running my personal relationships, I’d been a living and breathing ball of depression. I was completely miserable, I refused all human contact and wouldn’t get out of bed in fear that I’d further screw things up. Sleeping seemed to be my only escape, the only way I could cope with how horrible things were going. I was good as dead to the world, my phone had been on airplane mode for days to avoid calls and I’d completely neglected my flat. I didn’t care if I never saw anyone else again, even if that was an absurd stretch.

“Presley!”

Just to my luck Penny and Liam were kind enough to offer me their spare bedroom in my time of need. I’d simply explained that I’d lost my job but didn’t go into any further detail about my falling out with Jessa and Harry. Neither of them asked any questions, but in typical sisterly fashion, I could tell Penny was suspicious. Penny and Liam had a rather put together flat but as usual there were quirks to co-existing with them. After just five days I was beginning to regret blowing up on Harry. I could have easily shacked up with him and gotten VIP treatment.

If only I wasn’t so stupid.

“Presley, did you hear me?”

Penny voice grows louder and I sink my face further into my pillow, wishing I’d disappear. To my dismay the bed sinks and I know there’s no way of avoiding her.

“Presley.” her tone is softer now almost a coo. She’s up to no good and I know it.

“Go away.” I groan.

Without any warning the warm duvet is snatched from my body. I groan, slowly peeling my eyes open only to be greeted with the sight of my grinning, evil twin.

“What the hell, Penny?” I barked whilst rubbing the sleep from my eyes. I slowly sit up in bed, slumping my back against the headboard.

“That mangy vermin of yours is trying to ruin my carpet.” she scoffed.

I rolled my eyes.

“He’s in a new environment. Quit judging him.” I spoke.

Penny returned my previous eye roll whilst inspecting her nail beds.

“It’s time you get up anyway, this flat will be filled with lots of people in a few hours. I’m going to need your help.”

I ran a hand through my disheveled hair, my stomach drops as I try to process her words.

“Why?”

She groans.

“Did you forget? The engagement party is tonight. Mum and Dad are hosting and bringing food. I heard they’ll be great booze.”

How many damn parties do they need?

“I really don’t want to be around people right now.” I groaned, fisting the duvet.

Before I can pull it back over my head, Penny snatches it out of my grasp.

“You can and you will. It’ll be good for you. God knows I’m so tired of seeing you in that bed.”

She rises from the foot of the bed as if to finalize her words, dusting non existent lint from her pants. Her eyes wander down to my chest, narrowing slightly.

“You better not let Dad see you wearing that shirt.”

I kink a brow.

“What?”

“Your shirt,” Penny points a finger at the said object. “I didn’t know you were Stones fan.”

My hands fly up to the thin fabric against my skin and my stomach twist into weird knots upon seeing the faded Rolling Stones logo. I don’t know why I’m wearing it and I don’t know why I’ve kept it for so long. I should’ve given it back. It smells like him and suddenly I can hear his voice urging me to wear it, I can feel his fingertips grazing against my skin as he gently lifts it over my head. I should’ve given it back but secretly I don’t want to.

“It’s Harry’s.” I replied nonchalantly, trying hard to act like I don’t care, like saying his name doesn’t leave some bitter taste in my mouth.

“Are you ready to talk about what happened?” she declares, batting her overly mascaraed eyelashes at me.

“Excuse me?” I blurt a bit too sharply.

She shrugs.

“Something had to have happened between you two. I mean, look at you, you’re a hot mess.”

I don’t want to discuss disaster that’s occurred between the both of us but I don’t want to sweep the issue under the rug and make it seem as if things are good between us. I don’t want to tell anymore lies. Lying’s what got me stuck up here on Mt. Pathetic.

“It was a mutual agreement, Pen. We both decided that we weren’t a good match for each other,” I peeled the duvet back, finding the sudden urge to get out of bed. “maybe I’m just exhausted with life. People get tired sometimes, yeah?”

What I said was partially true at least. I’d decided that Harry and I were no match but he always insisted otherwise.

“Can’t you all reevaluate that? I mean, Li and I both agreed you were great together.”

I wish Penny would put the topic to rest. Who is she to determine who’s good for me?

“Will you leave so that I can get ready for your party in a few hours?” I snapped.

Penny tosses her hair over her shoulder holding her hands up in surrender.

“Gee, sorry I asked. I’ll leave you alone now.”

She closes the door as carefully as possible and I suddenly get the urge to throw something. I hadn’t given myself the proper time to asses my emotions regarding things with Harry. Maybe I’m angry , maybe I’m sad but mostly I just feel really numb.

If there’s one thing I’m positive of it’s that I’m not some weak girl who’s falling apart because I made some boy the center of my world.

Harry Styles is not the sun, he’s just a star that has no place in my universe.

****

I’d managed to begrudgingly get myself dolled up, changing into this black, sheer sleeved dress I’d gotten on clearance last winter and opting for a red lip to to make sure I looked alive. I’d already planned on sneaking as much quiche, triffle and champagne as possible back to my room and spending the rest of the night with Ollie. No one would miss my presence anyway. My parents had arrived about forty-five minuets before the party was due to start and I could already hear my mother barking orders at Dad when I entered the kitchen. I was a little indifferent about being around my parents as I hadn’t properly seen them since about Christmas. Dad would be his usual self of course but my mother was petty as hell and still rather upset about me choosing to spend Christmas with Harry.

“There’s my girl!” Dad announced upon my arrival.

He was dressed to the nines in his favorite black suit, the nearly silver strands of hair combed perfectly in place and a John Lennon shirt under his suit jacket just to add his own Liverpoolvian flare. He’d been arranging crackers on a platter and had probably been eating some along the way.

I forced a smile.

“Hey Daddy. Hi Mum.” I greeted.

My mother had been crouched near the stove and she gave me a tight lipped smile.

“Hello, love. Penny said you’d be over early.”

I smoothed my hands over my dress, nodding slowly. My parents knew nothing about my unemployment and pending homelessness. I intended to keep it that way.

“So, big party tonight.” I spoke, trying to start conversation.

I had no idea where Penny or Liam were but I was really hoping they’d show up soon.

“Honestly, I’m ready for the wedding day already. These parties can get draining.” Mum exclaimed, adjusting the belt on her tweed dress.

“Harry coming tonight?” Dad suddenly ask.

I can feel myself freezing up and his question.

“He’s got a gig out town. Won’t be able to make it.” I replied hurriedly.

I wasn’t sure if Harry was coming or not but I hope and prayed he didn’t. It was highly unlikely considering how badly I’d pissed him off.

“Oh,” Dad seems disappointed. “tell him I said hello. It’s been a while.”

Mum flashes her famous judgmental glare.

“Well,” she huffs. “since you’re here you can help me shave the chicken.”

“Sure.” I replied, happy to find something to busy myself

I could certainly see a bottle of wine in tonight’s future.

Penny’s flat was flawless and filled with nice aromas in record time. By six o’ clock guest began to show up with expensive bottles of wine and platters of aged cheese. There were hardly any faces I recognized, mostly old friends of Mum and Dad’s who’d decided to show up. While most of them seemed snobby and boring they were relatively harmless. The real annoyance wouldn’t start until about 7:30 when the bridal party arrived. All three of them seemed to be tipsy, disturbing the peaceful, mature ambiance that had been going on for the past hour. Dad seemed quite amused but Mum on the other hand was not at all impressed. Penny was probably the last to notice.

“What should I do, Presley? Should I kick them out?” her words came out in a jumble as she rushed over to me.

I shrugged, bitting into a slice of gouda and feeling too relaxed in Liam’s comfy chair to even care.

“They’re your friends, you deal with them accordingly.”

Penny huffed, obviously annoyed with my answer.

“I told them Mum and Dad would be here, now they’re just embarrassing me.”

“They’re your friends.” I replied again.

She groans.

“You’re no help at all.”

I continue watching the rest of the party goers when she’s gone. This party is pants and I can’t help but think that if Harry were here I’d probably be having a better time. He’d probably be tell me one of his horrible jokes or make up this weird narrative about a person in the room to try and make me laugh. We’d probably ditch the party early and go grab breakfast or go back to his place for a late night game of scrabble.

Why am I thinking about this?

Deciding on another glass of champagne, I rise from my chair and head to the kitchen. There’s a chilled bottle of rose´ in the fridge and I want to be the first to get my hands on it. The kitchen is nearly vacant, maybe I should hide out here for the rest of the night.

As I rummage through the fridge I feel a finger tapping into the flesh of my shoulder.

“Oi!” I shout, startled.

I turn on my heel only to be greeted with the sight of a man and a very attractive one at that. He was tall and slender, not as tall as some men but tall enough for me, with big hazel eyes framed by long lashes and dark hair that was so perfectly combed I bet even he was afraid to touch it. His facial features were striking, chiseled cheekbones and a strong jawline, and I could tell right away that he had this Johnny Depp, debonair aura about him.

“Sorry,” he grinned, flashing his perfect teeth. “I didn’t mean to frighten ya.”

I gripped the bottle or rose´ tight, somehow unbothered by the coolness of it.

“No,” I struggled to find my words “it’s alright.”

I placed the bottle of champagne on the counter whilst trying to grasp my train of thought.

Hot damn.

“So, you must be the maid of honor. I’ve been waiting to meet you.” he speaks, stuffing his hands in his pocket.

I laugh, maybe because I don’t know what else to do or maybe because it’s funny that he assumes I’m the maid of honor. Probably the last one.

“I’m no maid of honor. ’M just a bridesmaid.” I replied casually.

His dark eyebrows rose.

“Really? I would’ve thought you were the maid of honor. You look the part.”

I grinned, probably the first real one in a while.

“Thanks but that’s just too much responsibility for me. You must be the best man? You look the part.” I replied before going to find a bottle opener.

“You’re right about that, ” he replies as I struggle to get the bottle opener fastened to the cap. “let me do.”

He pops the cap with ease, a bit of the champagne’s fizz spilling out as I mumble a thanks.

He flashes his perfect smile at me again and I wonder why he’s stuck around so long.

“So, the bridesmaid has a name, right?” he questions hopefully.

“Oh,” my eyes widen. “how rude of me. I’m Presley. I’m Penny’s twin sister.”

I extended my hand to shake in which he gladly excepts.

“Zayn. Penny never mentioned she had such a gorgeous sister.”

The inner girl in me comes out and I find myself struggling to hide the blush creeping on my cheeks.

“Why would she?” I shrugged.

Zayn’s still holding my hand and despite how charming and handsome he is things feel a bit awkward.

“It’s a bummer you’re not the maid of honor.” he speaks again.

“Yeah, bummer.”

“Zayn, mate!” Liam’s voice booms as he enters the room.

He places a hand on Zayn’s shoulder and shoots me a questioning gaze.

“If you want to meet the lovely maid of honor she’s right over there by the bookcase.” Liam continues pointing to where Charlotte is in the corner, drunkenly cackling with Libby.

“Nice.” Zayn deadpans, gently letting go of my hand.

“I reckon I’ll be seeing you again very soon, babe?” he questions, flashing that perfect smile of his.

I grin.

“Yeah, very soon.”

He flashes that million dollar grin a final time before exiting the kitchen. Once I’m positive he’s gone I shoot Liam the coldest glare ever.

“You cockblocker!” I hissed folding my arms over my chest. “Why would you do that?”

Liam rolls his eyes.

“Because, you have a boyfriend! I will not be a witness to your adultery. Not in me own home at least.” he replies.

I scoff.

“Ugh, when will you people get over him? ”

I stomp out of the kitchen and down the hall way back to my room. Ollie is curled up on the bed and the slamming door startles him. I yank of my heels and fall into bed, anger brewing in my chest and a large lump forming in my throat. I just wish I could shake him, get him out of my hair, erase all traces of Harry Styles from my life. But every time I try things just come back around full circle.

Almost everything leads back to him.

I can feel the tears pricking my eyes as I catch sight of a small black box sitting on the my dresser. I pick it up, holding it in my palm as I remember Harry shoving into my hands on the night of my birthday. I hadn’t even opened it, too afraid to see what was inside. He’d said he didn’t care what I did with it so maybe I could do something else with it if it made me feel too bad.

I slowly lifted the lid, and my eyes immediately caught sight of something shiny. Inside the box was the prettiest, most delicate-looking bracelet with a tiny butterfly charm.

It was by far the nicest gift I’d ever gotten from anyone. Underneath the bracelet was a piece of folded notebook paper. Making sure to be very careful with the bracelet, I gently sat it aside and unfolded the paper. Harry’s handwriting graced the paper’s lines.

Because you’re like a butterfly, pretty to look at but so hard to catch.

I know it’s a bit much but I just wanted to give you something that shows just how important you are to me. Actually, all the jewelry in the world couldn't amount to how much I care about you. You deserve total happiness-even if it’s not with me.

Happy Birthday.

- Love, Hx

Fuck.

I was sure the make-up was destroyed as the hot tears streamed down my face. I could deny feelings all day but one thing I couldn’t deny was how incredibly sweet Harry was to me, even when I didn’t deserve it.

“You’re not still mad at me, are you?”

Liam’s footsteps drift into the room and I brush the tears away with my fingers.

“No,” I croaked, not even annoyed that he didn’t knock. “I’m mad at myself.”

He sighs deeply before taking a seat next to me, the bed stooping from his weight.

“Why the tears?” he questions softly, gently nudging me with his elbow. “I’ll beat someone’s ass if I have to.”

I ran a hair through my hair running the waves I’d worked so hard on.

“This is my problem, Liam.”

I stared down at the folded piece of notebook paper and I couldn’t help but think what things would be like if none of this would have ever happened, if I wasn’t so bothered by mum’s judgement.

“There’s something you should know Li,” I started, turning towards him.

“Go on,” he urged.

I’d been holding this in for so long and I figured the only way to make things better was to admit my wrong doings.

“Things between Harry and I were fake.”

His brown eyes are nearly double the size as he stares at me with disbelief.

“What? You’re shitting me.”

I shook my head.

“No, Liam, I’m serious. It was all pretend. At least in the beginning.”

He runs a hand though his perfect quiff with a sigh of disbelief.

“But you-you looked so good together, so real.”

“We had you all fooled, huh?”

“But-but why?” he stuttered.

I shrugged, lazily.

“I don’t even know anymore. At first I did it because I wanted to impress my mum, cause I was tired of looking like an unwanted spinster,” I gave a dry laugh “but now that everything’s over with, none of that even matters anymore.”

“I just don’t believe it, Presley. It can’t just be pretend. Harry’s pretty crazy about you.” Liam continued.

“I know,” I could feel the lump rising in my throat. “that’s what makes me so fucking scared.”

I brushed my fingertips up to my face to stop the falling tears. It’s then that I realize what a huge role fear was playing in holding me back. I was afraid of so many things: afraid of other people’s opinions, afraid of getting too attached, afraid of feeling weak and afraid of the idea that someone might actually want me.

“This is so stupid. I’m so stupid.” I mumbled.

“No,no,” Liam coos, placing his hand on my knee “you’re not stupid. It’s okay to cry.”

“I just-I just don’t want him to hurt me.”

I know he’s said before that he wouldn’t but how can you be so sure? People are so fickle. One day things are good and then the next, everything changes.

“What I’m about to ask is going to sound proper cliche´, but do you love him?”

I shrugged.

“There are many things about him that I adore but, love- love is such a massive word.”

I wasn’t even sure I knew exactly what love was. It was only a four letter word but it was so complex.

Liam sighed.

“Looks like you’ve got a lot to work out.” he declares patting my knee.

I ran a hand through my hair.

“Yeah.”

So much more than he knows.

“I reckon you won’t be coming back to the party them? his eyebrows raise.

"Nope. I’m calling it a night.”

He gives me a warm, sympathetic smile.

“I thought so. I’ll stow away some food for ya.”

The corner of my lips turned up into the smallest smile.

“Thanks Li. You’re a good guy. Penny is lucky to have you.”

He grins.

“Gimme a hug.”

I let out a contented sigh as he wraps his arms around me. I hope I haven’t ruined his suit jacket with my smeared make-up.

“you better not tell anyone else about this,” I warned once we’d pulled away. “if I hear this come back to me I swear I will break your bloody arm.”

His eyes widened.

“Jesus, I promise I won’t say a thing .” he assured me before standing to his feet and leaving the room.

I feel so much lighter now that the truth is out. It feels good to be honest after lying for so long.

Now I have to decide if I’m being honest with myself.

#harry styles #1d #1d fanfiction #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fic #one direction #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fluff #harry styles au #one direction fanfiction

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