#nobody has ever made sun at a loss for words

[cecilysobsessions]

ALL YOURS (m.) | levi

↬ word count: 11k

↬ slight enemies to friends to lovers except levi has always been in love but he’s in denial, fem!reader, ive decided that this takes place in a time in aot when nobody was dead and titans were the only problem lol, sassy reader, jealous levi, inexperienced levi, sub!levi, typos

↬ summary: ever since you were promoted to captain, all levi ackerman has ever done was shit on the way you run things. turns out he was only acting like that because he couldn’t handle his feelings for you.

↬ genre: fluff / smut

↬ warnings: swearing, begging, levi on his knees for you, oral, vaginal sex, desperate levi lmao

↬ a/n: i havent watched aot in so long so forgive me if i get some things wrong 😭 also im such a slut for sub characters im so sorry

m.list

To Levi, you were the most infuriating, idiotic, and impatient person to ever join the military. Every little thing you ever did he hated with his entire being: from the way you spoke to your squad, to the way you disciplined and trained them, even to the way you made your tea he hated. But, of course, he wasn’t being a hater for no reason.

You were a good fighter. Talented, agile, naturally gifted and athletic. You were capable of ridding a large area of titans within minutes, something not many scouts had a skill for. And although Levi had always silently admired that about you, that was the only thing that kept him from trying to get you kicked out. The two of you were opposite in personality: like opposite ends of earth, sun and moon, fire and water, the two of you had nothing in common and were never able to agree on anything.

“Everybody likes the new captain more than Levi,” he had overheard one of the other scouts whisper in the dining hall after you got promoted.

“Well, yeah. She’s so much nicer and a way better captain than Levi. She’s pretty, too.”

Pretty? Please, were those scouts blind? There was nothing pretty about you. Except for the fact that he seemed to be at a loss of words whenever his eyes looked into yours and the fact that whenever you pulled your hair out of your ponytail he got a whiff of your shampoo and took in a breath just to get a sniff of your shampoo and the fact that when you walked into a room you stole the attention of everybody there and the fact that you were so confident in your ability to run a squad and the fact that he did you find you pretty but he would never admit it and would rather feed himself to the titans than say so. But other than that, you spoke too much and too loud, you were taller than him, and you were annoying.

•••

“We’ve got a couple new scouts coming in,” Erwin spoke as he pulled out a sheet of paper from his desk, looking at the list of the new names of soldiers. He had called you and Levi into his office to discuss “important” things.

“I know you’ve just been promoted,” he looked up from the paper and into your eyes. “But these new recruits need some training and no one else is available to train them. Since you’re still a new captain yourself, I think it would be a good idea for Levi to help you and maybe teach you some things.”

Did he think you were incapable of training some new kids just because your promotion was recent? What kind of stupid logic was that? You were perfectly capable of training the new recruits all on your own and did not need that grumpy old short guy to help you.

“Sir, do not worry. I don’t require the assistance of captain Levi to train these new recruits. I think I know how to do that already,” you kept your hands behind your back and in clenched fists; your ego had taken a blow due to the fact that Erwin believed you needed help to do your job. Besides, you had a squad of your own and trained them yourself, so what made Erwin think you needed help?

“I think you do,” he replied flatly. “You’re a great captain and you’re good at training, but I think you’re too soft on your soldiers. Your soldiers need more discipline themselves…” he continued to list more stupid reasons as to why you needed Levi’s help, but you spaced out. Sneaking a peek at Levi standing beside you, you eyed his resting bitch face, absolutely no trace of human emotion on his face. Why was he being so quiet? Was he already informed of this before you? If so, why did he find out before you? Was he okay with doing it and that was why he wasn’t saying anything?

“They’ll be here this afternoon,” Levi turned to look at you, his voice stern and cold. “Their training will begin as soon as they arrive and if you’re late, you’ll be cleaning all the horses for tonight.”

“I’m never late,” you corrected.

“At yesterday’s meeting you showed up six minutes late. You are always late.” he told you bluntly.

“Well then, it’s settled. Try not to kill each other in the process of training the new recruits. We need to set an example and show them that the two of you are capable captains.” Erwin said proudly.

“Only one of us is a capable captain,” Levi says, rolling his eyes and turning to leave the room. Your eyes twitch in annoyance and your footsteps follow Levi’s out the office door. What the hell was he thinking? It would be such a waste of time to have both of you train the new recruits, so why would it be the two of you? And why did he say you’re always late? You’re never late! And if you weren’t a capable captain, why were you promoted? All Levi has ever done is shit on you and take any chance he can get to throw shade at you. 

“I’ll have you know I’m a very capable captain. In fact, probably more capable than you. That’s why everyone likes me more than you,” you start lecturing him, catching up to his footsteps quickly as you follow him.

“People only like you more because you are nicer. Niceness does not kill titans; skills and weapons do.” he refuses to look at you, choosing to stare straight ahead.

“I know that.”

“Do you? Because since you became captain and began training more recruits, we have had a higher number of deaths since your dumb promotion.” he finally looked at you, eyes filled with such hatred it was like he could murder you if he stared long enough.

“That’s not true!”

“Of course you think that,” he rolled his eyes, his flat and monotone voice gone; he was beginning to get pissed. “You would know our deaths have been higher than usual if you bothered to put in effort and actually read the mission reports.”

“I do read them,”

“No, you do not. Because if you did, you would realize that the way you discipline and train our soldiers is doing them more harm than good. And you would change your ways of training. But instead, you hang around drinking with the others and making jokes and pulling pranks instead of doing your job properly.” Levi lectured, his voice laced with annoyance and hatred. 

You always knew Levi thought you did a bad job as a captain, but you never thought he would actually say it to your face. He never said much to you, but when he did, it was just insults and lectures about everything you did wrong as a person.

“At least I leave time for fun! You’re all work and no play and this is why nobody likes you, Levi. Why do you think everyone calls you an old grumpy man?”

“Our soldiers are out here dying and you want to have fun? Are you that stupid, or do you just not have a brain? We don’t have time for your dumb little games, you idiot. Do you not care about the lives of our soldiers at all? Are you that much of a stupid brat that you are unable to comprehend that?”

You stare blankly at Levi. He was right. You didn’t realize it until now, but everything he said was right. While you never intended to poorly train anybody or get anybody killed, you realize that the way you did things probably caused the death of a lot of people because of you. Your heart sank and you were at a loss of words. You would never describe Levi as a nice person, but you didn’t think he was going to blow up in your face and insult everything you did. When all you do is stare at him in response, his eyes leave yours and he looks away awkwardly. After blowing up on you and practically yelling at you in the hallway, you grew silent and he was starting to feel awkward.

“See you tonight.” is all he says before he walks off, leaving you alone in the hallway.

•••

You were late. And not even by a few minutes, but by two hours. Two whole hours. After yelling at you in the hallways, you had gone to your room to take a nap and sleep off how you were feeling. Unfortunately, you overslept and nobody bothered to come and get you to wake you up.

Levi was going to kill you.

After sprinting your way to the training area like your life depended on it (because it did), you found Levi standing in front of the new recruits, his chin held high and proud as he spoke to them. When you walked up awkwardly to his side, he turned and rolled his eyes at you.

“Ah, the incapable captain I told you all about,” he begins, his eyebrows furrowing in annoyance because of your presence.

“At least I don’t need a step stool to grab some cups in the kitchen cabinets,” you automatically responded, straightening out your uniform. Your comment earned a couple laughs from the new recruits.

“Don’t forget you’re washing the horses tonight, captain.” his sharp eyes looked up at yours, a mischievous glimmer glowing in them. Ha! He thought you were actually going to listen to him and clean the horses? 

“You are not my captain anymore, Levi. We are now equals, so I no longer take orders from you.” you grinned sarcastically. Now that you were standing in front of him again, you began to feel re-pissed from earlier.

“I’ve been a captain longer than you.”

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

“You might be a captain now, but remember you used to be in my squad.”

“Thankfully, I’m no longer part of it.”

Levi turns to you and eyes the pillow mark on your cheek, a smirk coming to play on his lips. When he noticed you weren’t on time, he had thought that maybe you were still mad at him earlier and decided you weren’t going to show up. While that might have pissed him off, he wouldn’t be surprised if that was what you were going to do.

“What the fuck are you looking at?” you retorted after noticing that he was looking at you for more than half a second. His stupid face was a waste of good looks.

“She is a perfect example of what you don’t want to do,” he turned back to the recruits. “Too lazy to show up on time and too lazy to fix themselves up before leaving the room.”

Your eyes twitch in annoyance and you lean down slightly to whisper to Levi. “When I wash the horses tonight, I’ll be sure to miss yours. I know how pissed you off you get when something or someone isn’t clean.”

He knew you weren’t joking. He knew that you knew exactly how to push his buttons. And if there’s one thing he knew about you, it was that you were petty and what you said wasn’t a threat, but a promise. But when you leaned down to whisper into his ear, your strands of hair that softly brushed against his cheek had him hesitating to say anything. He got a whiff of your shampoo and looked away. It smelled like peaches. Your whisper felt like a gentle tickle in his ear, your voice so low and sultry it annoyed him.

You were annoying.

“You don’t want to be on her squad. Trust me everyone, she’d probably get you killed.” Levi tells the recruits, his feet planted firmly where he was standing. He wasn’t moving away from you.

“Captain Levi here would probably overwork you all to death before that happens.” you send a sweet smile to the soldiers standing across from you and Levi.

“Right, well there’s a reason I’m humanity’s strongest soldier and not you.” the not-so-subtle brag had you rolling your eyes.

“There’s also a reason everyone calls you a grumpy old man behind your back,” you smile at everyone and Levi takes a deep breath in annoyance.

“Nobody calls me that.”

“Everybody calls you that.”

“That’s not true.”

“Of course you wouldn’t know. I just said that everyone says it behind your back. Were you not listening?”

“Every time you speak I choose not to listen.”

“Choose not to? Or can’t because your hearing is so bad now that you’re old?”

His mouth twitches. He is annoyed. “I might be older than you, but I’m still stronger than you.

“Oh, are you getting irritated, captain? I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were so sensitive to words. Must be a thing that happens when you get old…”

Before Levi is about to insult you back, the two of you hear a faint voice in the background. “Captain!” both of you turn around. It was Jean.

“Why are you interrupting us?” Levi glares, crossing his arms. “What do you want?”

“Hange told me to come get you guys. We’ve got food in the dining hall to celebrate the new scouts.”

“We’ve barely begun training. They can eat when they’re fin—”

“Dinner is serrrrved!” you exclaim, throwing your hands up in the air in victory. “Let’s go eat, newbies! You’ll need all the energy you can get if you are gonna kill some titans!” as you holler and hype up the scouts, you walk off and direct them all to follow you, leaving Levi in the dust.

As he watches you walk off, Levi’s eyes can’t help but drift to the person walking beside you. Jean. 

•••

It’s like his eyes had a mind of their own. Almost like it was against his will, Levi’s eyes followed you around the dining hall. You were the life of the party: charismatic, friendly, and humorous. There was music and food and laughing and you were dancing for the scouts, a bright smile plastered on your pretty face. Normally he wouldn’t think much of it or even care to look, but a certain someone wouldn’t stop looking at you and touching you and being friendly with you.

Jean.

He knew the two of you were friendly, but he never thought it was anything more than that. But tonight, as he was watching you dance, Levi noticed that he wasn’t the only one watching you. Jean’s eyes followed you like you were the only person in the entire room. Jean admired you from his seat, hollering in excitement and hyping you up to the music. 

Not that Levi cared. Of course not. Why would he? He totally wasn’t just sitting on some chair in the corner of the dining hall too cranky or upset to talk to anybody because he didn’t like the way Jean was looking at you. Where was Mikasa? Didn't the kid have a crush on her? 

Levi scoffs to himself, taking a sip of his tea as he continues watching you. He sees you saunter over to Jean, grabbing his cup and taking a sip of it before smiling at him. Levi’s eyes can’t help but roll back. Why did you look so happy and smiley next to Jean? Why did it look like you were flirting with him? And why was Levi getting annoyed?

Why did he care anyway? He just found you annoying. Your presence, your personality, your entire being annoyed him. He stood up abruptly, setting his tea down and walking out to get some fresh air. 

“Enjoying the party?” It was you.

“Did you follow me out here?” He leaned on the wooden fence railing and looked up at the night sky.

“You stomped out like a cranky old man, so I thought I’d check up on you.” you teased, coming up and resting your arms on the railing as well.

“I was doing just fine until you came out here. Don’t you have your boyfriend to go back to?” he couldn’t help but bring up Jean. He was nosy and wanted to so badly know if there was anything going on between the two of you.

“Which one?” you tried to joke, but you forgot he didn’t have a sense of humor because he just stared at you. 

“Are you curious if I have a boyfriend or not?” you ask after a beat. 

“I don’t care.”

“Bullshit. You must be curious at least a little bit. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have asked.” you tease, leaning towards him and tilting your head and waiting for an answer.

Fuck, why did you have to look at him like that? Head slightly tilted, hair tousled from dancing around, a bright glimmer of hope beaming in your eyes, something he lost a long time ago. His eyes met yours, and he found himself staring at you. Observing, admiring, memorizing your features. He blamed the glistening stars and the shining light of the moonlight that made you look so beautiful. He had found other people beautiful before, but your beauty couldn’t even be compared to others. There was something about you that always hooked his attention, always had his eyes searching for you, and always had his heart beating faster. Although he found you annoying and couldn’t stand being near you, when you weren’t around he found himself searching for you. Thinking of you. Longing for you.

“Are you staring at me, captain?” you teased sarcastically, a smug smile on your pretty lips.

“You’re just so ugly it’s unbelievable someone as ugly as you even exists.” what the fuck just came out of his mouth? It was an automatic response, something he would say out of annoyance but not actually mean. Levi felt himself panic a little, his heartbeat speeding up in fear of how you would respond.

“Oh yeah?” you smiled once more and his eyes wandered down to your lips. He wondered what they would feel like against his own. “If I’m so ugly, why do you keep looking at me? Why don’t you look away?” 

You leaned in closer to him once more, your lips close to his if you even slightly moved forward you would be kissing. There was a moment of silence that sat between the two of you. You felt his breath on your lips, your gaze moving down to them. His heart began to race; why did it look like you were about to kiss him? Why were your eyes on his lips? And why were his eyes beginning to drift to yours?

“Levi,” your voice a whisper. His head tilted slightly to the side, like he was getting ready to lean and kiss you. The background noise of music and the scouts cheering inside faded away because all he could focus on was your lips. 

“Yes?” He sounded so sweet, so soft. It wasn’t like him at all; he had never been this nice to you. Usually when you tried to get his attention he always answered with nothing but a cold attitude. 

“What do you want?”

“If you’re going to say something stupid like you usually do, go bother someone else. Unlike you, I actually have work to do.”

“Don’t fucking talk to me right now. I’m not interested in whatever bullshit you have to say, you brat.”

“Do you—” you began.

“CAPTAIN!” the door behind you slammed open, a slightly drunk Jean stumbling out and holding his beer up. “We’re playing a drinking game, come join us!”

“I’m not interested. Fuck off.” Levi angrily replied. 

“Oh. I wasn’t talking to you,” Jean awkwardly said, eyes drifting from Levi to you.

“A drinking game? Sounds fun!” you excitedly smiled, straightening back up and pulling away from Levi. As you began to follow Jean back inside, you felt a firm grip on your arm. 

“She’s not interested either,” Levi spoke for you, his hand tugging you back to where you were standing next to him. “We’re discussing mission stuff.” he doesn’t know why he said that. A lie like that just rolled off his tongue so easily and so automatically. If he was being honest with himself, he didn’t want you to go back inside, but stay out there with him.

Jean seemed to notice the hostile vibe from Levi, nodded, then walked back inside. Levi’s hand stayed wrapped around your arm, his grip strong and firm.

“What are you doing?” you asked.

“If you go back in there and start drinking, you’re just gonna get drunk and I’m going to have to take you back to your room again.” he complained, but really it was just an excuse to get you to stay out there with him.

“That was one time!” 

“You fucking threw up on me! Twice!”

“Well, where was I supposed to vomit? My bed?!”

“Just don’t throw up at all!”

“How could you say that to a drunk person?!”

“Maybe don’t get drunk and I won’t say that!”

“Ugh, whatever. This is why nobody likes you, Levi.” you roll your eyes, shaking your hand from his grip. You get drunk one time and he decides to bring it up at every chance he gets.

“You think I care about what other people think?”

“I think you care what I think of you.”

“You’re thinking wrong. Maybe if you actually had a brain you wouldn’t say that. I don’t know what Erwin was thinking when he promoted someone as stupid and incompetent as you.”

“Whatever, short bitch.” you snorted.

“What did you say to me?”

“Oh sorry,” you sarcastically apologize, dramatically leaning down. “Lemme lean down to your level so you can hear me. I forgot you’re old, too.”

He scoffs, flicking your forehead aggressively with his middle finger. “OW! What the hell was that for?”

“For being such a brat.”

“What? Me wanting to go and have some fun is being a brat?”

“Yeah. If Jean hadn’t suggested something so stupid, you wouldn’t want to do something so stupid.”

“What does this have anything to do with Jean?” you questioned. Why was he suddenly bringing Jean up? “Wait,” you pointed an accusing finger at him. “Are you jealous?”

“What? Are you stupid? What kind of dumb question is that?” he scoffs again, leaning back on the railing and rolling his eyes. He tried to hide it, but the faint pink on his cheeks was obvious.

You gasped dramatically, covering your mouth. “You are, aren’t you?!” 

“No!”

“Would you look at that,” you tilted your head in amusement. “Captain Levi is jealous.”

“Not only are you stupid, but you’re crazy too.”

“Insult me all you want; I know you’re jealous.” you couldn’t help but grin to yourself. Excitement fluttered in your chest and you peeked at Levi, trying to see if he had any sort of reaction.

Although you looked at him and waited for some sort of reaction, Levi was still able to keep himself together. It felt as if his heart was about to explode and his hands were clammy from being nervous and he wanted to avoid all and any eye contact with you because if he even looked at you for one second his facade would break. 

You wouldn’t stop staring. Your soft, inviting, and beautiful eyes would not leave his face and the more you stared the harder it became to keep a straight face. He needed to change the subject.

“About the other day after leaving Erwin’s office,” he started. “I’m sorry for what I said. I should have been a little nicer about it.” 

Levi apologized? To you? If there was one thing you thought you would never hear from the old grumpy guy, it was an apology.

“Even though what I said is true, I could have worded it better so that you wouldn’t cry.” 

“I didn't cry!”

“I know you did. I walked by your room after that and heard you.”

“You listened in on me crying? You’re such a freak,” you poked fun at him. “I didn’t even know you were capable of apologizing. Or even feeling bad.”

“I know you’re a sensitive person.”

“I am not a sensitive person.”

“Yes you are.”

“No, I am no—”

“Would you just shut up and accept my apology?” he burst out, ruthless eyes glaring at you. 

Levi was an impatient man. “You don’t apologize to someone and demand for them to forgive you,” you lectured. “That’s not how it works, captain. Of course you wouldn’t know; this is probably the first time you’ve ever said sorry.”

He knew he shouldn’t have apologized because all you were going to do was critique it and annoy him again. “Whatever,” he rolled his eyes, pushing himself off the fence. You knew he was about to leave. “Don’t get too drunk. I’m not going to take you back to your room if you do.”

“I’ll have Jean take me to my room then. Or maybe his.” you brought him up again, just to test the waters and make sure he was actually jealous and you weren’t just crazy. You didn’t actually intend on getting drunk or having Jean escort you back to your room, you just wanted a reaction.

“Do whatever you want.” he brushed you off, waving a hand in dismissal as he began walking away.

•••

Maybe it was the alcohol or the midnight sky or the glistening stars, but since that night you and Levi were able to have a somewhat decent conversation without wanting to throw the other across the room. And since that night, his insults haven’t been as harsh as usual and he didn’t jump at every chance to point out everything that was wrong with you. Surprisingly, he actually began to speak to you as if you were a human and had human emotions. It felt weird at first, and you thought that maybe he was only acting that way because you were forced to train the new scouts together, but even after their training finished, he was slightly nicer to you. If he kept it up, you might even consider him your friend. 

He might have begun being nicer to you, but that wasn’t the case for Jean. Jean was getting scolded more often and more harshly than usual, over the smallest things that didn’t even matter. It was so obvious that even the other scouts started noticing.

“Jean’s getting scolded again,” you overheard Armin inform his friends in the dining hall. Your eyes shifted to Levi and Jean a couple feet away. Jean was looking away in shame and Levi was staring up at him, mouth going off and blabbering about how his tea was lukewarm.

“Over what?” Eren asked.

“Captain Levi asked Jean to heat up his tea, but apparently it wasn’t hot enough.”

“HA! He probably deserved it!” Eren cracked up, grabbing his stomach in the process to soothe his laughter.

“But haven’t you noticed too,” Armin lowered his voice in an attempt to be more secretive. You heard your name and all of a sudden their conversation was interesting and now you were listening on purpose. “He’s been so nice to her lately…” 

You began to crane your neck towards the young scouts, nosy and desperate to hear what they were saying about you. Nonchalantly taking a sip of your drink, you felt a firm hand grip your shoulder. “Captain,” you looked up. 

It was Levi. You never thought much of it before, but now that Levi was referring to you as captain had your heart doing leaps in your chest. It was small and insignificant, but something about him putting respect on your name and calling you with your title made you feel appreciated.

“Come with me. Mission meeting.”

•••

You had forgotten that Erwin asked the two of you to team up and join squads together on an upcoming mission. Since Levi had toned down his attitude towards you, Erwin took it as a sign and assumed the two of you were growing closer. Unfortunately, the mission didn’t run as smoothly as you had hoped.

You sustained an injury, it was light and minor, but it still worried everyone. You had crashed into a tree, a couple tree branches scraping you and drawing blood. You had hastily ripped off a part of your shirt, clumsily wrapping it around the injury on your arm in an attempt to stop the bleeding. Now that you were back in the walls safely, you were trying to wrap your arm up again with bandages with one hand. You struggled, failing to wrap it around your bleeding arm, cursing under your breath and debating whether or not you should go out and ask for someone’s help. Luckily, someone walked into the room to help you. 

That someone was Levi.

He walked in silently, his light footsteps were the only sound in the room as he walked up to you. “Need help?”

“No, I don’t. I’m perfectly capable of doing it on my own.”

“Doesn’t look like it. You’re still bleeding.”

“I’m not blind, I can see that.” you remarked, once again struggling to wrap the bandage around your arm. You hissed in frustration and pain. Why wouldn’t the stupid bandage just wrap around you?

“You’re such an idiot,” he commented, stepping in front of where you were sitting. He stood between your legs, your legs touching his. He didn’t make a move to pull away, his slender fingers brushing against yours as he took the bandage from your hands and gently wrapping it around your wound. His hands were soft. Contrasting his personality and attitude, his hands handled you with a gentle touch.

“I told you to be careful before we left for the mission,” he said, securing the bandage around your arm. Your eyes drifted to his slender hands, veins slightly protruding as he applied pressure to the bandage. “And you didn’t listen.”

“You think I wanted to get hurt on purpose?” you retorted, rolling your eyes and wincing at the pain of your injury.

“Does it hurt?”

“Duh.”

“Weakling,” he finished wrapping you up, his eyes staring down into yours. “You need to be more careful next time.” his voice was almost a whisper, filled with a slight touch of concern.

“I know that already.” your eyes stayed on his. His sharp eyes focused on your face, his pupils darting around the details on your face. Was there something on your face? You felt a rush of insecurity and an embarrassing blush grew on your cheeks. “Is there something on my face? Why do you keep looking at me, huh? Got a crush on me or something?” 

You watched Levi inhale deeply, his breath lightly brushing against your cheek and you suddenly realized just how close he was standing in front of you. Even though he already finished wrapping you up, he was still standing close to you, his legs brushing against yours. You watched his Adam's apple bob up and down as he swallowed nervously, his eyes going from watching your face to looking away.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he warned.

“Oh?” you suddenly smiled with confidence. You loved watching him when you irritated him; he got annoyed so easily it was amusing. And when he got irritated, the warning look he shot at you with his eyes sharpened and hard, made you want to push his buttons even more. 

“Is it really so ridiculous? Because you can’t seem to take your eyes off me, just like the other night. Am I really so ugly you’re unable to look away?” you remark, thinking about how he called you ugly the other night in a panic when you caught him staring at you.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “I’ve never seen anyone as unattractive as you are.” his eyes dropping down to your lips and lingering on them. 

You don’t know why, but in the moment you wondered how he would react if you kissed him. The looks he kept giving you made you weak in the knees and you couldn’t help but want to give into your desires. 

“Then why are you staring at my lips, captain?” you challenged, a teasing smile creeping up.

“Because you talk too much,” his eyes darted to  yours for just a beat before dropping back down to your lips. “You talk too much…” he repeated, but this time it was a whisper, his lips hovering over yours. “And you’re too loud…” he whispered, his voice laced with a strange sweetness you had never heard before.

“I talk too much and I’m too loud? Oh yeah, then what else do you hate about me?” 

“You’re too cocky,” he answers you, his arms coming down to rest on the chair you were sitting down on either side of you. You got a whiff of his scent and inhaled the smell of bar soap. “And when you’re hanging around the other scouts, you dance so horribly it hurts to look at.” his head tilts to the side almost as if he was ready to kiss you. All you had to do was move forward the tiniest bit and you’d get to taste his lips.

“You watch me when I dance?” you grin, tilting your head the other way and leaning in just a bit. When you leaned in, you noticed he didn’t make a move to lean away from you. You have never been this close to Levi, so now that you were, you felt a rush of excitement and wanted more of it. 

“Yeah, you’re so bad at it, it’s entertaining.” you saw a small grin appear on his face, something you almost never saw.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” he quickly says before leaning down and lightly brushing his nose against yours, if he moved any closer his lips would be on yours. He exhales against your skin, his breathing uneven as he attempts to hold himself back. 

When he doesn’t make a move, you grow impatient and lean in to kiss him yourself. To your surprise, he doesn’t pull away, but instead surrenders to his desires and closes his eyes. He is still for a moment, and you wonder if it is because he regrets kissing you back or if it is because he’s nervous. You lean in to him a bit, trying to signal to him to start actually kissing you back. The faint taste of black tea covers your lips before a sudden realization, and your eyes shoot open.

“Was that your first kiss?” you ask, pulling away and smirking down at him, the new memory of levi moving his lips against your clumsily in an attempt to kiss you made you smile. 

His eyes widened in fear and embarrassment. “W-What? No!”

“Oh my, captain. I didn’t know you had this side to you. Wanna kiss again? I'll show you how to do it.” you wink, enjoying the slight blush that crept up on his cheeks as his eyes looked everywhere but yours.

“I’ve kissed people before!”

“Your mother doesn’t count.”

“I wasn’t talking about her!”

You grab his chin, tilting it downwards as you look up at him. “That’s cute. You’re cute. Kiss me again,” you lean in excitedly. After finding out how inexperienced he was, it made you want to kiss him even more. When you’re about to lean in and kiss him again, Levi panics and hastily puts his hands on his shoulder to stop you.

“I—what are you doing?!” 

“What? You don’t wanna kiss me anymore?”

“You… you brat. You made fun of me,” there is a slight pout on his lips.

Oh. He was hurt you had made fun of him. Well, you didn’t know he was that sensitive to it. “Sorry,” you tell him. You stand up, stepping away from him because now you’ve just made it awkward and feel the urge to leave. When you wait for his response and it’s silent, you decide to leave. 

Levi can’t believe what he just did. He let you kiss him?! What the hell was he thinking? Was he actually out of his mind? Of all the people there, why did it have to be you? All you ever did was annoy him with your stupid face and stupid and arrogant attitude.

But as he continues standing there after you had just walked out, he can’t help but want to go after you and apologize. He can’t help but want to tell you that he was just nervous and excited and that he didn’t know what to do and that he actually did want to kiss you. 

Your lips were warm and soft and even though it was a moment, your kiss made him feel safe. Your kiss had him melting, wanting more. More of the kiss and more of you. 

•••

It was freezing. Levi should have gone back to his room and tried to light a fire again and cover himself with his blankets and gone to sleep but his mind was too busy with thoughts.

Thoughts of you.

His eyes fluttered closed for a moment as he leaned on the fence outside his room’s porch, breathing in the crisp midnight breeze. In his head, vivid images of your lips on his invaded his mind. A pink blush crept on his cheeks as he recalled the exhilarating feeling of your lips on his. He hastily shook his head; he didn’t want to give into that feeling. He was falling for you and he was falling hard. He had to get his head straight. 

Taking a deep breath in an attempt to push away thoughts of you, he walked back into his room and tried to light a fire again. His stupid clumsy hands couldn’t light the stupid fire and was getting annoyed. His mind jumped to an outrageous idea: what if he just visited your room so he could just use the fireplace there instead of wasting his time trying to use his? Was he just using that as an excuse to go visit your room? Of course not. It would be such a waste of matches if he lit his own fire. And, of course, he wouldn’t want to waste his matches… 

Levi felt ridiculous. What the hell was he doing, standing in front of your door in the middle of the night and knocking? Was he that desperate to see you he had to come find you in the middle of the night? And what was that dumb excuse of using your fireplace for heat to come see you?

“Levi?” you raised an eyebrow in confusion when you opened the door. “What’re you doing here?”

His eyes immediately looked you up and down, admiring your figure as you stood there in your nightgown, waiting for him to answer you.

“Captain,” he spoke, at a loss of what to say. “Um, well it’s a little cold…”

“Yeah.”

“A-And I was trying to make a fire, but I couldn’t.”

“Okay.”

“So I thought maybe—maybe you had a fire going in your room.” he sounded awkward and rigid. God, why was he struggling to get words out that made sense? He was already mortified enough he came knocking at your door in the middle of the night, but he was even more mortified when he noticed the way you look. Your nightgown was thin, almost see through, and he could see the curve of your breasts through it, your nipples peeking out from the thin material.

“Well, as you can see,” you opened the door slightly wider and showed him your fireplace. “I do have a fire going.”

“That’s what I thought,” he paused, trying to decide how he wanted to ask if he could come in. No matter how much he thought about it in the mere second he hesitated, there was no good way to ask. No matter how he would word it, he’d sound desperate and obvious that he just wanted to come in and see you. 

“You already said that.”

He decided to just rip off the bandaid; he already looked pathetic showing up at your room, there was no point in pretending anymore. “Do you mind if I come in? For the… for the fire? It’s a little cold.” he sheepishly asked, nervously rubbing the back of his neck. Jeez, he felt like such a loser.

Until now, he didn’t see you show any sort of reaction or emotion to him knocking on your door, until now.

You tilted your head in amusement, a smirk growing on your face. “Oh? Are you sure that’s the only reason you want to come in, captain?” you teased, leaning down slightly to meet his eyes. 

Levi’s eyes couldn’t help but wander down to your cleavage, the cut of your dress was low and exposed you. “What other reason would I have?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” you feigned innocence. But if someone saw us, they could assume you’re here for something else besides just wanting to warm up…” you told him mischievously, your eyes checking the hallway for anyone. His eyes bulged and his breath caught in his throat, unable to come up with a response. 

“I’m joking,” you break the silence, crossing your arms and smiling at his response. When Levi wasn’t lecturing you or yelling at you, he was cute. “Come in.” he walked in silently, choosing to sit on a chair as you sat on your bed. 

“So what brings you to my room at this hour?”

He didn’t want to outright say it was because he wanted to see you, but he wanted to see you. “I’m sorry,” he began. “About earlier. I panicked, so that’s why I pushed you away.”

“No worries, there’s no need to apologize. I wasn’t mad.”

That was it? Levi was overthinking and worried that he had upset you, but you brushed it off like it was no big deal.

“Oh. Okay.”

“Was that all you needed?”

“Um,” he’s trying to think of something else to say—something else to say, so that he won’t have to leave (really so that you won’t kick him out and he has an excuse to stay), but his mind has been blurry since he stepped foot into your room. He is nervous: hands clammy and shaky, breathing uneven and louder than usual, and eyes struggling to meet yours. 

“You look like you want to kiss me.”

“What?! No, I don’t!”

“Oh yeah? Then why do you keep looking at my lips?” you questioned.

He didn’t realize his eyes kept running back to your lips. He stands up abruptly, heading for the door in embarrassment. Levi reaches for the door, stepping forward to walk out. When he’s halfway out the door, he panics, quickly backing into your room, but he bumps into you.

“What’re you—” you had originally stood up to watch him leave and close the door when he backs into your space. You get a whiff of his hair, it smells subtle and clean. 

“Shit,” he slams the door and turns around. “I saw someone in the hallway.”

“And?” you look down into his eyes, panic rising in them.

“What would people think if they saw me walking out of your room in the middle of the night?” he nervously says, fidgeting with his hands in front of him, his back pressed against your bedroom door as he looks into your eyes.

“Well,” you start. “Why are you really here anyways? Is it actually because you’re cold? Or is it something more?” your tone sounds suggestive.

“You’ve misunderstood.” he speaks, his voice barely a whisper and his eyes lingering on your lips. 

“Did I?” you reply, your eyes dropping down to his lips. He licks them unconsciously, almost leaning in.

“Yes, I don’t like you that way.” a total lie. 

“You don’t like me?” you smile and lean closer to him. He stands there firmly, his nose brushing against yours as he finally looks up into your eyes.

“Not at all.” he doesn’t even bother to try and hide the fact he’s lying. 

“Then why do you keep staring at my lips? You look like you wanna kiss me.” you told him again.

“No,” he inhales sharply, his breathing uneven as he moves his mouth dangerously closer to yours. 

“So what? You hate me?”

“Yes,” he leans in, pressing his lips against yours. His lips are still against yours for a moment before he pulls away, cheeks red and eyes droopy. “I hate you.”

Maybe it was because your room was warm and cozy and inviting, or maybe because it was late at night and he was just desperate and lonely, but kissing you had Levi feeling shaky and nervous but excited. Your lips were warm and soft against his and he found himself wanting to press his body against yours in an attempt to be closer to you. 

He had tried so hard to suppress his desires to be with you, to be near you, to want you. But the walls he forcefully put up were crumbling so easily with a simple kiss from you. 

He leans in again, this time more aggressive and desperate. You smile into the kiss—he had no idea what he was doing. But the fact that he was so desperate and wanted more so badly he was willing to make a move himself had you feeling warm and fuzzy on the inside. You pull away, his lips searching for yours as you do.

“Gentle now, captain.” you whisper. It felt as if he was in a rush when there was no need for that.

Your hand gently came up to his cheek, softly touching his skin. He leans into your touch, his eyes fluttering closed. It was like he was under a spell: he was so quiet and so desperate, it wasn’t like the usual Levi.

“Still hate me?” you joke.

His eyes open. This time, they’re no longer empty. His eyes are soft, focused on yours, hopeful of what is to come next.

“Yes.”

“I like you, too.” you lean in, kissing him slowly and gently. Your hands snake through his hair, tilting his head slightly to gain better access to his lips. His arms wrap around your neck, pulling you closer to him as he presses his body up against yours. His back is pressed up against the door, and you can feel his rapid heartbeat through his shirt causing you to smile into the kiss. He quickly becomes breathless, pulling away from you, his lips hovering over yours. 

As quickly as he pulls away, he pushes himself into you again, longing for more. You kiss him back, your tongue lightly licking at his mouth, asking for permission. He hesitantly opens his mouth into the kiss. Kissing him makes you feel as if you’re drunk. It’s so addicting and so satisfying it makes you want more. You lick inside his mouth, your fingers tightly gripping the roots of his hair. You pull away, your fingers grabbing his hair and tugging on it and forcing him to look into your eyes. He breathes heavily, his eyelids barely open and lips glistening wet.

“Kiss me more,” he breathes. 

“Why should I?” you tease.

“I want—no, need more of you.”

“If you want me that bad, beg for it.”

You wanted Levi to beg for it?! As if he wasn’t already embarrassed enough, you were going to make him beg for more? Did he look that desperate you thought you could make him beg for it and he’d pull through and actually do it? There was no way he was going to do that. Absolutely not. He’d rather—

“Please,” he automatically said. Even though his head was telling him not to, his heart wouldn’t listen. His hands run down your back and wrap around your waist. You can feel the warmth of his hands through your nightgown, his hands rubbing at your hips soothingly.

“Hmm?” you pretend you have no idea what he’s talking about. He leans into your side, his breath tickling your ear as he breathes in the scent of your hair. The hands on your hips pull you towards him, his hips pressing against yours, the pressure causing him to twitch in his pants.

“Come on,” he whispers as he tries to control his breathing. He felt unsteady, his breath uneven as he held himself back. “Don’t make me beg.”

He’s embarrassed. “Guess you don’t like me enough to beg,” you shrug, letting him go and crossing the room to sit on your bed.

Levi stays at your door for a moment, debating whether or not he wants to give into your desires. When his hand comes up to lock your bedroom door knob, you smirk. He makes his way over to where you’re sitting, politely kneeling down in front of you. He looks up at you through his strands of hair, his usual sharp eyes looking round and soft like a puppy.

“Please,” he says again. “Tell me what to do.” his hands come up to grab your shins, his fingers sneaking underneath your dress and caressing your skin gently. His slender hands make their way up to your knees and he tentatively lifts your nightgown to leave a loving kiss on your knee. 

He looks back up to see you staring down at him, a playful smirk painted on your face. You can’t help but smile at the fact that Levi was on his knees in front of you, so willing and eager to do whatever you wanted. He looked so submissive—his back slightly arched, shaky hands holding onto you, and voice whiny. You felt a throb in your core, taking a deep breath in an attempt to control yourself so you wouldn’t pounce on him right then and there.

“Come up here,” you whisper softly and he follows you immediately and crawls up the bed, his legs straddling your lap as he nervously sits on top of you. 

Your hands come up to squeeze his thighs, his muscles tensing as soon as you do. He wraps his hands around your neck, pulling you closer to him as your eyes move to his neck. You imagine he would look good with hickies. So you lean in, leaving a small kiss on his neck. After a few small kisses, you can’t help but nibble on his skin, biting the sensitive area and sucking on his soft skin. He reacts quickly, pulling you closer to himself and pushing your head into his neck. It is faint and quiet, but a small moan escapes his lips and his hand comes up to immediately cover his mouth.

You wanted to hear more. As your tongue traces his skin and as you start leaving marks on his neck, his head tilts back in pleasure, whimpers beginning to leave his pretty lips. He bites down on his bottom lip, gulping as he tries his hardest to stay quiet. But the more he whimpers, the harder you suck on his skin, and he can’t help but start rocking his hips involuntarily.

“Hnghh,” he whines, his hips rocking against your thighs, desperate for some friction. Your hands move from his thighs up to his ass, grabbing it and squeezing shamelessly as his hips rock faster. 

You pull away from him, cupping his ass one more as he whimpers in pleasure. Levi looks down at you, eyes dropping down to your lips as he leans in and licks at your mouth. This time the kiss is sloppy, rushed, and impatient. The more time that passes between the both of you, the more desperate you become. You bite down on his bottom lip, aggressively pulling him into you as you kiss him harder. 

“Haaa,” he pulls away breathlessly, his rocking hips slowing down. “I’ve run out of patience.”

“I noticed.”

“I want it so badly. I want you so badly. P-please,” he huffs.

“Have a little more patience, Levi.” you stroke his cheek tenderly. “We’ve got the whole night.”

He blushes, his hands coming up to reach for the first button on his shirt. “It’s a little hot in here,” his hands tremble, failing to undo his button. 

You smirk, watching him nervously try to undress. “Trying to give me a show?”

“Stop-stop teasing me,” he pouts, grabbing your hand and bringing it to his chest. “Undress me.” he demands.

“Whatever you say, captain.” your skillful fingers work at his shirt buttons, easily undoing them and pulling his shirt off for him. He’s slender but muscular, and when your eyes admire his figure, you spot his hardened erection through his pants. He doesn’t bother to cover it up out of embarrassment, instead, choosing to grab your hand and guide it to where he really wants it. 

You start gently rubbing him through the cloth, his hips slowly, rocking against the friction of your hands. You were surprised he seemed so open about what he wanted—you had thought he was going to be shyer. You stroked his hard dick through the thin material of his pants, his head leaning into the crook of your neck. He breathes in and out slowly, trying to keep his composure but it slowly begins to fade the more aroused he grows because of you.

He whimpers, his hips slowing down to a stop. “I’m ready for more,” he whispers against your ear and climbs off of you, grabbing you on top of him as he lies on the mattress. 

“Hmm,” you begin, your fingers slowly undoing his pants. “How many people have you been with, Levi?” you asked innocently, your hands tugging at his pants. He lifts his hips up, allowing you to slip off his pants and underwear. His hardened cock lies against his flat stomach, glistening with his pre-cum.  

“Not many,” he answers. “I don’t have a lot of experience.” he continues shyly and looks away in embarrassment. 

“Cute,” you grab him, your hand stroking him from his shaft to his tip. You lean over him, sticking out your tongue and letting saliva drip onto his tip, making sure to maintain eye contact with him. His eyes widen, surprised at what you’re doing but pleasured. Your saliva coats him, allowing you to more easily stroke him, your thumb circling over his tip. His hips automatically thrust upwards into your hand, his own hands gripping the bed sheets. You feel him twitch in your hands, smirking to yourself as you bring your mouth down to him once more. 

Levi’s mind is hazy and his judgment is clouded. It’s like he’s under a spell from you, he desires so much from you and is so willing to do absolutely anything for you to fulfill those desires. His head tilts downwards to watch you, your eyes hungry and determined. He can’t help but whimper even though you haven’t gone down on him completely, he is just desperate for anything at this point. He watches you smack his cock on the tip of your tongue playfully, your hand expertly stroking his shaft. He moans, making sure to cover his mouth so that nobody else hears but you. 

His eyes are still trained on yours though, watery as tears begin to fill his eyes. He feels your mouth take in all of his length, sucking him in as your hands massage his thighs. He feels you forcefully spread his legs wider, and his cheeks heat up. If it weren’t for the low lighting in the room, he would collapse from embarrassment. It was something about him splayed out on your bed, legs spread open by your hands that had him feeling a little too exposed and humiliated. Strangely, he liked it. He enjoyed being underneath you, allowing you to do whatever you desired with his body.

There was something about Levi in tears, whining and whimpering for more underneath you that had you shaking in excitement. His whimpers were like music to your ears and all you wanted in the moment was to hear more of it. He wasn’t afraid to hold back how good he was feeling and it made you want to please him even more. You took him in your mouth once more, your tongue swirling over his sensitive tip. His hips can’t help but thrust again, and you hold him down, pushing down on his thighs with your hands. You come back up, your mouth leaving a string of saliva as you pull away from him. He already looks out of breath, his forehead slightly glistening with sweat as he struggles to catch his breath.

“You look like you need some relief,” you tease, crawling up to straddle him. You begin lifting your dress to take it off, and his eyes immediately drift to your breasts. He watches you undress in silence, choosing to quietly admire you from a distance. 

He chuckles quietly, his hands grabbing at your thighs. He rubs up and down at your skin, his eyes focused on yours. “You look like you want to sit on my face,” he replies.

“I think you’re the one who wants me to,” you smirk, moving to hover over his face. You catch a glimpse of excitement and arousal in his eyes.

“I do,” he confesses. “I want to taste you so bad,” he continues, biting down on his bottom lip. “Please—please let me.”

“Well, since you seem so desperate.” you smile, grabbing the headboard in front of you as he grabs you, forcefully sitting you on top of his face. 

His tongue immediately comes up to lick you, and he moans. His hands snake back to grab your ass, pushing you further onto his mouth as he struggles to find your clit. You chuckle, angling your hips and thrusting in his face so that your clit gets the stimulation you need. You begin to ride his face, your hips aggressively thrusting as he moans into you. You wonder if he’s struggling to breathe, so you pull away a bit, but he pulls you back into him, his hands squeezing your ass cheeks as he laps at your pussy, whimpering in pleasure. You pull away, his face shining with your wetness and cheeks rosy. 

“Not bad,” you tell him, grabbing his chin with your hands. “Now it’s time to open up, captain.” your fingers ghost over his lips and he automatically opens them, taking in your two fingers. His tongue is warm and wet and swirls around your fingers as his eyes close in pleasure. He moans against your fingers as you shove them deeper into his mouth, making sure to coat them in his saliva. When you pull them out, you bring your fingers to your wetness, rubbing at your entrance.

“Fuck,” he whispers, his hand coming up to stroke his dick as he watches you tease yourself. He moans again, watching as you rub your clit, your fingers teasing yourself once more as you insert a finger into yourself. You moan, thrusting into your own fingers and Levi strokes himself faster, captivated by you. 

“Please,” he starts, tapping your thigh with his hand politely. Cute. “Fuck me, please. I need you so bad. Please, please fuck me.” he desperately asks, his eyes tearing up once again. 

“Oh? How badly do you want it?” you hover over him, rubbing your clit on his dick, your hips slowly grinding against him. 

“Ahh,” he moans and grabs your hips and presses you onto his cock. “Please… please ride me. I want you to fuck me so badly, please.” a tear slides down his cheek, more tears swelling in his beautiful eyes.

You feel yourself throb as you hover over him, patience thin. You push yourself into him, taking in his cock and throwing your head back in pleasure. You tighten around him and feel him throb inside of you. You bite down on your lip to contain your moans, making sure to keep quiet. Levi, however, was the total opposite. He was so aroused and so desperate and so turned out it was like he had completely forgotten that the walls were thin and it was late at night and people were trying to sleep. He was moaning loudly, tears escaping his eyes as he cried out to you in pleasure. He was thrusting upwards into you, frantic for some friction. His hands were gripping his bedsheets once again as he fucked himself into you, whimpers escaping his pretty lips. 

“Fuck,” you mumbled as you bounced on top of him, taking in his dick. “People are going to hear you if you don’t quiet down.” you warned, leaning down to get closer to his face. 

“Hnngh, I’m sorry,” he whispers, tilting his chin up for a kiss. You give in, sloppily kissing him as he opens his mouth to let you in, moaning into your mouth as his hips begin thrusting faster. You pull away from him, breathless as your hand sneaks down to rub your clit. He pulls you into him, holding you close as his hand strokes your hair lovingly. You feel him breathe against your ear, whimpering in pleasure as you continue to ride him. You feel yourself growing closer, so you begin to ride him faster as his moans grow louder in volume.

“H-Harder,” he breathes. “Please fuck me harder.” he pleads and you oblige, your hips speeding up along with his thrusts. He’s more vocal now, whining your name and moaning as if there isn’t somebody sleeping right next door. 

“Haaa,” he sighs, face flushed and hips struggling to keep up. He throws his head back against the pillows, panting in pleasure and hands coming up to grab your thighs, fucking himself harder into you. You feel the familiar knot in your stomach, your pussy squeezing down on him as you rub yourself, hips stuttering as a wave of pleasure takes over and you cum, toes curling and holding onto his hands that grab at yours. When he feels you cum on him, he whimpers and bucks into you, unable to hold himself back any longer. You pull yourself off of him and he moans, his cum spurting out and landing on his stomach. His face is flushed and he’s out of breath; he looked beautiful.

His eyes bore into yours, and it is silent in the room except for the sound of both of you catching your breath. As you come down from your high, you climb off of him, your legs trembling. Levi immediately sits up, grabbing your shoulder gently to sit you back down. 

“I’ll help clean up,” he assures you, leaving a kiss on your cheek.

After the two of you clean up in silence, he wonders if you are going to let him stay there, or kick him out. Now that the two of you have given in to your desires to have sex, what now? Should he confess his feelings to you now that he’s realized them, or wait for you to say something? What if you just thought tonight was nothing more than a no strings attached sex? His heart sank at the idea. He didn’t want that at all. He wanted to be with you. He wanted to be yours. Watching you finish changing your bed sheets, he awkwardly crosses the room to stand next to you.

“Um,” he starts, and you stop what you’re doing to look at him. “Do you need help? With—with your sheets..?”

“No, as you can see, I’m done.” you gesture to your made bed.

“O-Oh,” he pauses, nervous and unsure of what to say. 

You look at him, watching him rub the back of his neck out of anxiety and awkwardness. “Levi,” you start.

“Captain,” he automatically responds. 

“Do you like me?”

His eyes widen and he appears to be taken back. “Uh, I—Yes. I… I thought it was obvious.”

“You never actually said it. I was the only one to confess.” you point out.

“Oh.” here it was. Here was the moment he had to pour out his feelings and confess his love for you. The only thing was, he was so horrible with words. 

“Um,” he starts. How many times has he said that already? Jeez, he felt so stupid and nervous and embarrassed. “At first—I thought I hated you. I thought you were a horrible captain and bad at your job and annoying and a terrible dancer and I also thought you talked way too much and sometimes it would give me a headache and you’re also really cocky, but—” he stopped himself. Why was he insulting you? He was supposed to confess his feelings and all he did was start insulting you? What the hell was wrong with him? 

“S-Sorry. I’m sorry. What I’m trying to say is—I… I like you. A lot. And… and, if you—I would like to be yours. All yours.” he pouted, disappointed in his confession of love. 

You smile, pulling him into a sweet kiss. “Well, you could’ve just said so, captain.”

•••

“Did you hear?” you overheard Armin whisper quite loudly to his friends as you sit a couple tables away from them in the dining hall with Levi. He was drinking tea as you munched on a sandwich. 

“He confessed his feelings to her! Captain Levi?! Can you believe that? I always thought he hated her!” he said excitedly, hitting Eren’s arm.

“Please, she’s out of his league.” Jean pointed out sourly, a hint of jealousy in his voice.

You thought you were the only one listening in on them, but when you look over to Levi, he’s smirking in victory after hearing what Jean said.

“How do you know that?” Mikasa asks Armin.

“Hange said she saw Levi walking into her room a couple nights ago around midnight,” he begins. “And she said they were loud! Especially captain Levi!”

You eye Levi, and as soon as he hears what Armin says, he spits out his tea, coughing as his eyes widen in embarrassment. You laugh, rubbing his back to soothe him. 

“I warned you that someone would hear.” you tease.

“That shithead Hange—” he coughs again, his face turning red. “Shut up, you brat.”

•••

a/n: thank you sm for reading! i didn’t mean for it to be this long lmao

m.list

[local-x-reader]

I’m gonna be honest idk if I’ve requested anything recently.. so sorry if I have. If I haven’t..

Glamrock Freddy but he’s a yandere bc of trauma from the Bonnie incident.

….Oh my god

Yandere!Freddy x Reader

He didn’t know what happened, Bonnies gone. It scares him. It scares him so bad, he lost his best friend. He’s gone without a trace and it leaves Freddy so anxious… What happened? Is he hurt? Is he okay? Where is he? Why isn’t he showing up?

Then you come along, you get close to him…and that anxiety is barreling into him. He’s finding himself so scared to lose you too, whether it be without a trace or to someone else. Freddy can’t handle that anxiety, that fear… he wants to make sure your safe from everything that can hurt you.

He’s scared. He can’t lose you too.

You always have to seem a sense of being watched, its hard to place but… it’s there.

He keeps taps on you when he’s busy via the cameras, constantly flicking around to spot you and keep an eye on any threats that might be around, constant and watching, always an eye on you. It causes slight malfunctions in his own functioning and delays in schedules since he can get panicked, unable to find you.

Freddy hates it when you enter an area that has no camera accessibility or when you’re in an area he can’t enter… what if you need his help? What if something happens?! What if you get hurt and he can’t reach you?!? No, it can’t be a repeat of Bonnie, he can’t lose you.

If you try to sneak into a dangerous, he’ll find you and scold you. Telling you about how dangerous it is, how you could get hurt.

To be honest? Freddy would probably love it if you were handcuffed to him, he would always be able to keep you safe! You could never get hurt if he was there! You’d be safe! Nobody could ever harm you, and you wouldn’t disappear like Bonnie!

…Of course… the threat of being harmed by your own clumsiness was one he was wary of… but he didn’t even think about you being harmed by another employee until he spotted you on the cameras, talking to the human daycare attendant, the young man chatting with you outside the daycare while Moon tended to the children…

It was like seeing red. All he could see was the threats. This stranger? What if he broke your heart? What if he took you out of his range and hurt you? What if he stalked you? What if? What if? So much jealousy at the way you giggled around the stranger, so much fear. What if you were taken away from him by that person?!

Freddy couldn’t let that pass. No. Not at all. Not losing anyone again.

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╮

You were chatting with the new employee, talking about what it was like working in the daycare, or more specifically; with Sun. Curiosity getting the better of you as you questioned him, trying to see if he knew anything about the switching mechanics between the two… which he didn’t but it was worth a shot and he gave a few awful jokes to cure your ever so slight disappointment.

Footsteps. They made you both pause since they were very clearly not human; the loud thunks of metal hitting carpet as an animatronic approached… you weren’t aware that someone was due to come down today… and by the look on the other employees, he didn’t either. The two of you watching and spotting the orange and cream blur before he was standing right there.

Freddy. An unnerving feeling seeming to follow him straight to you… why was he here?

“Freddy? What’s up? Is something wrong?” You questioned, tilting your head up to see the large animatronic, looking at him curiously.

“I apologize! I uh…” He looked at a loss for words, a blank look entering his eyes as he watched you, sharp blue eyes meeting yours before glancing away, looking at the ground, “I apologize… I am not sure what got into me! There must be… a bug of some sort…”

Huh. Bizarre. You sighed, a hand lightly reaching out to tap him, signaling for him to follow, “C’mon bud, lets get you checked out.”

And the sound of his footsteps followed a few seconds later, trailing behind you… meanwhile you missed the death glare he had given the poor new employee, a silent promise of bad things following him if he spoke a word. Sheer anger radiating off of him until he turned to gleefully follow you, you could feel his eyes watching you, making you roll your eyes as you walked…

He wasn’t going to let someone take you away like Bonnie had been taken away… you’d never know, he’d make sure you never knew what he did that night… nobody would know. Less of all; you.

╰── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅──╯

[gwendalyn]

Just forget the world

George Weasley x Reader !Fem

Sad fic im sorry :(

Set after the Battle of Hogwarts. Dealing with grief both you and George go through. You are both twins who lost their other half. Never being anything more than distant friends, you find youself most emotionally vunerable to the only person who understands you. Apologies if this isn’t great. I’ve rewritten it a few times but this is the best way I’ve found for myself to write it.

⚠️Warnings: Suicidal thoughts, Death, Loss of family

To most people there, it was a bittersweet ending. Losing loved ones, but overall overcoming the power of Voldemort. To you, you had watched the past year as your family had been killed, one by one. First your father. Then your mother. And you and your twin sister were the only to remain. You had made a plan with her to avenge your parents, making certain that you either won or died trying.

The last few hours of war before it was called to a halt however. Your twin sister was struck by a Deatheater. You screamed out anguish, about to die yourself before George Weasley managed to reflect the spell back. Only to find himself in a similar fate as you. His twin brother, dead. Your voice became horse, crying over your sister. Your eyes puffy and face aching from pushing out whatever was left of the tears you could produce.

The morning came. Voldemort was killed. You felt dead inside once it was all over. Laying down on the floor, looking up to the ceiling of the Great Hall which once lit up with a galaxy, now empty.

George not too far away was doing the same. His mother trying to get him to speak, but his brother who started the sentences was no longer there to start. So he had nothing to say.

You get up shakily. Desperate to get this dead feeling out of you. One way or another. So you bring yourself to the broken bridge. George turns his head as he watches you leave the room. He only ever knew you as a friend, the other Gryffindor who was an identical twin. But he knew what was in your mind because he had the same idea lingering in his.

You peer over the edge, not too close to get people to leap forward and grab you. Just looking. How far down it is. A warmth approaches you and looks too.

You see George, the one who managed to back off the Deatheater that killed your sister. The one who lost his other half as well.

You look at him, latching onto his eyes with your own. Both of you filled with sorrow and strain. Being able to read exactly what one another feels.

“I know.” He says.

“It’s like, losing yourself. And now theres nobody there to find it. Just me.” I tell him.

“I’ll help you, if you help me.” George says. His intentions of comforting one another during this time.

Those words hit you. You feel drawn to hug him. You sob in an embrace. He leans on your shoulder and tears come flooding out of him. It was the most sorrowful hug you ever had. But it was the hug that saved your life. It made you realise how your family wouldn’t want you to fall down, after all that has happened. Now everything was safe.

“Okay.” You reply.

It didnt fix the huge irreversible tear in your life. Nor was Georges fixed either. Nothing ever would. But you sat there. Silently. In one anothers company.

Molly wanders outside, seeing you together. Understanding how you two both are going through the same thing. She cant help but cry again from afar.

You just sit with George, until the sun set. His hands surrounding yours as you both just stare down the edge of the bridge.

“I don’t know where I even go from here.” You tell him. You had lost all the family you knew, and home was no place you could be. It wasn’t even home anymore, just a place you used to live.

“You can always come with me.” George says. He dread the feeling of being alone at this time. His family surrounded him, which he was grateful for considering the worse fate you were experiencing. But the way they dealt with Fred being gone was different. His parents lost a child, but at least they both had one another who felt that way. His other siblings lost a brother and had one another to share that grief, but George couldn’t quite shake how the feeling of losing his twin was. Losing his soulmate from birth. And he had nobody who had that grief. Except you.

You felt it only natural to go with George. You had friends, but none of them matched up to the level your twin sister was. And they had their own separate lives to go on with, able to move on eventually. But You wouldn’t ever move on, nor would George. You could only just hope it got easier to cope with.

You get up and lock your hand with Georges. Others notice you both, feeling sorrow for you both.

“You coming with us dear?” Molly asks in a sad, but sweet and soft tone. She knew you were now alone with no family to turn to, so invites you to theirs.

You nod, and she nods back.

Upon getting far enough from Hogwarts, you all dissaperate back to the Burrow.

George looks around, before taking your hand again. Holding on so tight as if he were afraid to let go.

“You both get some rest.” Molly says.

George nods, before you both head up the stairs. He stops outside the door labelled “Fred and Georges room”, as if he were about to go inside, before turning around and walking into Charlie Weasleys old bedroom.

You hesitate coming in, although you needed somebody by your side, maybe he needed some alone time.

“Dont worry. They wont mind you staying in here with me.” George says.

You both lay on the double bed. Looking up again. Something draws you to him, so you cuddle up to him. He feels the same so holds you close. Its the way soulmates work you begin to think. You both lost your soulmates, and so that natural draw shifts into one another. The space left is rather large, and its like trying to fit a slightly different puzzle piece in the empty space. It doesn’t fit as the old one did. But with some rearranging, it works in a different way.

That soulmate energy transferred into a different route with one another. You trusted one another with your lives. You grew closer and knew each other more day by day. The day George started speaking to others besides you. The day you sell the house you grew up in. The small moments which push you both to grow together, instead of being left behind feeling smaller. You saw beauty in one another. Your draw to one another grew romantic with the instinctive need to be together. It was you and George. Just you and George, then the rest of the world.

Molly was as well extremely grateful for you. Without you she feared it would’ve been like losing two sons. But you rebuilt George as he did with you.

A few months later, you move with George into his and Freds old apartment. Restarting up the joke shop. He grows into this person you used to see from afar in school, but he grew back into it with you there too.

Some years later you get married, and then of course, your genetics call out for twins. A boy and a girl. One named after your sister, and the other named after his brother.

[lunaredgrave]

The Legacy of Cressidia Part 3 - The Exile

Part 1: A Day of Normalcy

Part 2: Whispers of the Past

Summary: You finally come face to face with your stalkers, but they are not what you were expecting.

Themes: Fluff, angst, romance, adventure, mentions of abuse, trauma and loss

You kept walking into the dark alone but deep inside, you hoped Astarion was following you.

It was time for you to uncover whether your intuition was correct, or you were just paranoid.

You deliberately took the more desolated areas to truly lure them in if you were indeed followed. And hoped to the gods that if you truly were watched, they weren't too many in numbers.

You kept walking, holding your rapier tightly. The amount of street lamps started to dwindle as you got closer and closer to the forest near the village.

You kept walking, hearing your own footsteps in the night. But eventually, a few other footsteps followed.

You stopped and listened.

Then suddenly, behind the trees, an elf and a dragonborn appeared, wearing all black with their weapons drawn.

Bandits or something else? you asked yourself, as you scanned them.

Suddenly right behind you, a voice in the dark cut through the night like a dagger.

“Took you long enough to realize you've been followed.” the voice of a woman said.

You turned your back. The woman with the hood you saw at the tavern and two other humans were waiting. You were surrounded.

“The Hero of Baldur's Gate, but couldn't even notice a measly little rogue behind her tail for two months. Is this truly the daughter of the famed Isidora Blackstrand, the Empress of the Flames?”

You froze in your place and your eyes widened in shock when you heard that name. Nobody ever knew who your mother was. You never told anyone, not even your teachers in the bard academy knew.

Your heartbeat got quicker and you felt blood, rushing through your head.

“Who in the hells are you?” you asked.

The woman continued as she laughed, “I can't believe you made yourself walk towards an ambush.” She said and snapped her fingers “Just like that.”

Suddenly an arrow flung through the dark, hitting the elf behind you right in the shoulder. The elf screamed in pain.

Everyone was suddenly surprised by the attack. But you smiled. Astarion was saying hello, in his own way. He was around and invisible.

The woman wagged her finger and chuckled, “Ha! Should've known your little friend would follow.”

You took out your rapier and smirked, “Well, I always say starting conversations with a few drinks and a few nice words is better than following someone around for two months. But I suppose you were too shy to ask me out.”

The woman looked at her men. “Ease your weapons, lads.”

The men dropped their weapons and the woman got a step closer to you.

“I have no intentions to kill you.” the woman said seriously.

You shook your head in disbelief, “Yeah, that's not really believable, is it?” You showed the men standing around you, “I mean, if you look at this picture right now.”

The woman just sighed, “Well, It's been 26 years. I had to know what you've become, your morals, and your mindsets. I needed to know if I could trust you.”

“Will you tell me who the hells you are, or should I signal my friend to send in another arrow through your head?” you growled.

To your surprise, the woman slowly got on to her knees and removed her sun shaped brooch that held her cloak. Then, she removed her hood from her face, revealing an older human lady. Her face was covered with scars, yet she had beautiful and elegant features. She had long, curly chestnut hair with a lot of white strands.

You were set aback by her sudden kneeling down. Was this some kind of a joke? Why the hell was she kneeling in front of you now?

“You know me. But you do not remember.” she said, shaking her head slightly in sorrow.

You took a step towards her to see her face more clearly. There was familiarity, but also a complete strangeness.

She smiled while hiding her grief behind it, “You were young. Innocent… She took everything away from you, just as she did to me.”

“How do you…” you couldn't finish your sentence.

“I used to braid your hair and put flowers all over it. You loved it so much. We used to sing all the time… Gods, you’d never stopped singing. You'd make a song about everything.” She kept smiling at you.

Suddenly, a chill ran down your spine. You knew this person.

“N-no way… You're dead!” You exclaimed. You slowly held the clothing in your chest, tightening it to calm yourself down. “No… Impossible…”

The woman slowly got up.

“Not dead. Not yet anyway. Exiled. Although I suppose she wanted me to die in exile.”

You looked at her blue eyes, the same as your fathers. The same as one of your eyes.

“Ellira… Aunt Ellira…” You finally said.

She smiled but her lips tightened with pressure, trying to hide their trembling. She was trying not to cry.

“You were lost for so long. Gods, I waited for your return for so long.” She said.

She came closer to you. But you were taken aback by shock so much that you just couldn't move. Questions rushed into your mind.

How in the hells was she alive? Why did she appear now? Why the hell was she following you for so long?

You only managed to ask one of those questions.

“W-why were you following me?” you stuttered.

Ellira shook her head again, “I told you already. Because I needed to trust you. You were only eight when your parents died. And you were taken by a Drow, for gods’ sake! How was I supposed to trust you? After I saw your name all over the Gazette 9 years ago, I had to find you. But you were always somewhere else. Needless to say, it's hard to track someone down when they are never staying in one place. Also, I can't set foot in Baldur's Gate, I'll be killed on the spot. But you… Everybody knows your name, but nobody remembers you, do they?”

Suddenly a more familiar voice broke the conversation.

“Will someone please tell me, what in the hells is going on?”

You suddenly flinched and looked where the voice was coming from. Astarion's invisibility magic fainted and he was standing on the top of a tall rock, ready to shoot anyone with an arrow.

You forgot he was there in the heat of the shock.

“Sorry!” You smiled slightly nervously. Astarion came down and walked closer to you, but he was still holding his bow, just in case.

“Well our family meetings are surely something else, aren't they?” You told Astarion, remembering the time Cazador's spawns ambushed you in your camp.

“This is my aunt. Ellira Cressidia. Auntie, this is…”

Ellira straightened her back and smirked, “Astarion, yes, your partner. I've been following you, remember?”

Astarion raised his brow and glanced straight at you, “Empress of the Flames? Taken by drow? Followed by your aunt?! And who the hells is this mysterious ‘she’ you're talking about? You have a lot of explaining to do…” he said, both confused and annoyed. “...darling.” he added, emphasizing the word a bit to show you his frustration.

And gods, you had one hell of a story to tell…

[the-real-housewives-of-waterdeep]

Chapter 3: A Familiar Face

Summary: As the heiress apparent to House Selemchant of Amn, Dulcinea is used to getting her way. At 28 years old, she has never had to lift a finger unless it was to cast an evocation spell. That is, until she woke up on an unknown beach with a tadpole in her brain.

Rating: MA

Category: F/M

Relationships: Tav/Gale

Chapter 3/?

Word Count: 1.1K

“A little help, please?” a man’s voice called frantically from within the portal. Dulcinea recoiled slightly, noticing the frenetic energy that the portal emitted. The Weave that powered it hissed and popped. Whoever pulled this little stunt had created an unstable tunnel of arcane power. This person appeared to know what they were doing when they attempted this but managed to bungle it to the point that they were now mired within a mess of their own making.

That voice, Dulcinea thought to herself. I know that voice. Dulcinea was not in the habit of performing any degree of manual labor, never mind pulling people out of unstable creations of the Weave. She glanced at her companions from the corner of her eye, shifting uncomfortably. They were in a standoff with each other and nobody seemed particularly eager to yank someone out of a rock on the side of the road. Yet, Dulcinea could not shake the feeling that somehow she knew this person from somewhere.

Dulcinea groaned, throwing her head back dramatically. “Fine, I’ll do it.” She stomped over to the portal and paused for a moment. The stranger’s arm waved impatiently in front of her. Dulcinea thought highly of herself in many regards, but she was well aware that it was highly unlikely, if not altogether impossible, for her to pull a grown man out of a portal. She looked over her shoulder at her companions. “A little help would be quite appreciated,” she sneered. “I’ll pull the arm, but I need someone to pull me.” Shadowheart and Astarion exchanged conferring glances. They weren’t fond of their spoiled traveling companion, but she had managed to pull her weight in dire situations thus far. Shadowheart sighed inwardly, volunteering herself as a second assist.

Dulcinea grabbed the man’s forearm with both hands while Shadowheart looped her arms around Dulcinea’s waist. Dulcinea felt an unexpected prickle of excitement at Shadowheart’s touch. “We’ll pull on three. One… two… three!” Dulcinea leaned back into Shadowheart, pulling the stranger’s arm with all her might. Shadowheart pulled while stepping backward, adding additional traction.

“That’s it, just a little more,” the man instructed, relief already settling into his voice. Slowly, more of the stranger’s body began to emerge from the portal. Suddenly, Dulcinea felt a loss of resistance, sending her and Shadowheart careening backward into the ground. In their wake, the stranger came free from the portal, tumbling to the ground in from of them.

“Ugh, I fell on my tailbone,” Dulcinea whined as she rose to her feet. She dusted her dress off, huffing in irritation. She looked up to find the stranger standing in front of her. In fact, it was no stranger at all. Her eyes widened. “Gale,” she breathed. Her pulse quickened, warmth rising to her cheeks. “What are you —”

“Doing here? I shall ask you the same question, Miss Selemchant. Although it’s quite a relief to see a familiar face, you and I are quite a ways from Waterdeep,” Gale interrupted.

Dulcinea swallowed hard. “I suppose we are, yes.” It had been a year since she last saw Gale, but he hadn’t lost that rakish handsomeness that made her her heart race. His wavy chestnut hair was now streaked with grey and furrows in his brow and the smile lines that adorned his eyes had deepened. His eyes sparkled as brightly as ever in the mid-afternoon sun.

Gale turned his attention to Astarion and Shadowheart. “I’m Gale of Waterdeep,” he said, shaking each of their hands. “My apologies, I’m usually better at this. Magic, I mean.”

“Are you alright?” Shadowheart asked, a look of mild concern crossing her face.

Gale shrugged affably. “A bit shocked, but it’s certainly a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Although, I believe we all know each other, yes? In a manner of speaking. We were all aboard the nautiloid and I can assume that all of us were on the receiving end of an unwelcome insertion to the ocular region.”

Dulcinea shuddered. Her memories of being aboard the ship were fragmented and blurred like a fever dream. What she could recall with a visceral certainty was the tadpole wriggling its way into her eye socket. She remembered the searing pain and the aching of her vocal folds, battered and swollen from her screams.

Gale continued, uninterrupted. “This insertee, this parasite will trigger a process called ceremorphosis that shall turn us into mind flayers. Let me assure you that this must be avoided.”

Gale looked appraisingly at Astarion and Shadowheart. “Would either of you happen to be a cleric? A doctor? A surgeon? Uncannily adroit with a knitting needle?”

Shadowheart eyed Gale skeptically. “Surely you know enough about our condition to see that this is beyond the skillset of the average cleric.”

“Most, no doubt. I was hoping to find myself in the presence of one of the few. That wouldn’t happen to be one of you, would it?” Astarion smirked. “I’m less of a knitting needle person, but I have other, ah, implements that I’m quite skillful with.” Visibly uncomfortable, Gale shifted his gaze from Astarion.

Dulcinea crossed her arms and exhaled forcefully through her nose in boredom and frustration. Her boots were not made for walking such distances, causing her feet to ache with every slight movement. Even in her summer dress, Dulcinea was drowning in sweat. “Right. I think it’s well established that none of us can do anything about this,” she said curtly. “So we need to find an actual healer. Now.”

“Dulcinea, you always cut through to the marrow of the problem. And right you are. How about we lend each other a helping hand once more and look for a healer together?”

“Yes,” Dulcinea responded, almost a little too quickly.

“Most excellent,” he smiled. “A tadpole shared is a tadpole halved, or something to that effect.”

“Shall we continue on, then?” Astarion asked, taking note of the sun’s progressive descent towards the horizon. “We’ve spent more than enough time staring at rocks and not enough time looking for a tadpole specialist.”

“Before you think you’re about to embark on a journey with a most ill-mannered a man, thank you for pulling me out of that stone.”

“How someone of your acumen managed to get stuck in a portal is beyond me,” Dulcinea said incredulously. “But… you’re welcome.” She cleared her throat and set her sights on the road ahead. “Surely we’ll make camp soon, right?” she asked Astarion and Shadowheart, a pleading tone in her voice. “I’m desperate for a reprieve.”

“If it will give us a reprieve from your whining, we can make camp right now,” Astarion snarled.

Dulcinea snorted, crossing her arms over her chest. “You don’t need to be so sharp with me. I was only asking a question.”

Astarion sighed in irritation. “Just lead on, will you?”

Dulcinea took her place at the front of the group. “I suppose we’re going… that way,” she said with feigned decisiveness, pointing northeast. Dulcinea didn’t have the faintest idea where she was leading her companions. All she hoped was that there might be a healer there. And a hot bath.

[polar-jake778]

The ending of my short story.

The title is self explanatory, but I will exasperate its expressive nature below.

Snowing flits of fear, flowing rivers of the overseer, people cowering behind the warmth of a beer and memories made only here. You saw the charity in the walk, hares running in the ankle high snow, blackbirds watching from afar, and elderly piercing you with judgement from the comfort of their home. And yet, you continued to walk the heavy snow filled landscape. Alone, Unwavering, grateful and strong. You didn't have to, but you did. Some would say the comfort of the flakes falling upon our cheeks is similar to a mother grasping our innocent childish face, reflecting on how much of a thief time really is. You did not need to look her in the eyes as you began to lose sense of yourself, but you did. You fought from sun up till sun down, from the loss of your guide to the rekindling of your trust in nature. And as death itself, I must cherish your fortitude for you did well. You did all that you could, and no matter how much people will say you failed, you had succumbed to nothing but the same as them. Only difference is the smile upon your face and the ember within your heart being enough to light the world a new sentiment of love, care and forward bravery. Nobody will ever know who you were. But they will get to know you as you live and breathe in each and every tree. For you will be at your rightful mothers side, stronger, more confident and more free than any mortal ever could have been. You knew you lived a lonely life. But you made the most of it. You found comfort in your discomfort. And made the most of what nature brought unto you. For the life you lived, no matter how harsh, lonely or thieving of breath and mind it may be, you made it. You found home. For that, be proud, be glad, and do not settle for your new life has only just begun. They say history is written by the victor, for now, it is written by the survivor of all torment, loss and dissatisfaction. You are the librarian of the barred, you are the guidance for the lost, the crutch to the weak and the warmth to the cold. You, dear Pendler, are our shining colour. Our lone Wanderer.

-Those who Wander, Polar_Jake78

I have been writing a short story since the beginning of this year. I debated on whether I should release my Sci-fi fantansy novels but those are currently under repair. And will be under such maintenance for years to come. A series of books built upon 480k words, which was made within the declination of my controlled self; that of course would hold too many personal innuendos. So, repairs must be done. Think of it like the construction of a chapel. Instead of saying nothing about what is being done in the background, I thought it would be nice to express that I am indeed making a book. One of which is heavily remarked by those of whom have read the rough copy as a "philosophical walk through guilt, anxiety, oddity and abnormality". This summary may sound overwhelming and stereotypical. Perhaps inferred that this work is but an articulation of a subconscious plague. But rest assured you, this story is but a walk through nature, life, memory and a message that persists upon forward bravery through thick and thin. This of course will be no easy read. The first intention behind creating this was to create an exercise for those of limited visual imagination. Therefore, there is a lot to visualize and interpret. And last but not least, this story is where I depict my understanding of oblivion. A subject that I have mentioned before on this blog. If you happen to be fascinated by my interpretation, this story in its entirety will be perfect for you. Nonetheless, this is the ending of my short story(don't question why I am releasing the end and not the start. Enjoy)

Sneaky polar bear picture

[jojo-hut-jrs]

The Gancena has decided it's time to make Mista wary by creating a fourth part of that fucking Bucci Gang Reader x Risotto AU... with 51. "I thought... I thought I lost you." that mans needs to do less overthinking and more feeeeeeeeeeeling

Bucci Gang Reader! X Risotto part 4

51. “I thought…I thought I lost you.”

You just needed a few days to cool off. 

Nobody said that life among criminals would be smooth for the soul, or your love life, but many of the challenges that it now presented were leaving you overwhelmed. 

His behavior was not helping in the slightest. 

You had known his role prior to Don Giovannas ruling, and you knew that even gangsters that didn’t specialize in wet work were expected to act on such impulses if it were called for or demanded, but juggling morale was a tricky and often futile debate that you had hoped he would have at least humored you in. 

The narcotics job was supposed to be easy. And then it wasn’t. 

And after involving yourself in the situation in an effort to lessen the damages, he had the absolute gall to look down on you for it. 

So, you had left him. Not completely, just alone in your shared apartment for a few days while you cooled off and wrapped up the loose ends that were left behind. Seeing that your side had made it out alive completely was relieving, and at least the survivors seemed grateful at your interference, even though you received little comment from the boss himself regarding what had transpired. Honestly, you had hoped for things to be a little different now that the head that be replaced, but you would have to save those thoughts for another time unless you wanted the stress of recent events to completely consume you. 

You had thought he was doing the same; cooling down, thinking, perhaps too much. An empty bed for a few nights was nothing to mourn and you had doubted the loss of your company would bother him too much. Though serious the argument was, he knew you didn’t walk out on him and everything you had built together.

But, ultimately, that was exactly what he had thought.

You had been expecting a normal, if not slightly cold or apologetic, greeting. Something normal couples that had normal fights tended to act on, a standard run-of-the-mill social action that was as common as the sun was bright, and you had steeled yourself before coming home in the event that you two would actually talk instead of scream at each other this time. 

The apartment was in much the same state in which you left it, which was not odd. He wasn’t so self-destructive as to lay waste to his own living space over something like this, and he was by no-means disorganized or carefree. The place was rather quiet, and you had gone through the motions of settling in when he had come bursting through the door of your bedroom.

He looked...unwell. Disheveled and undressed, not in a manner that was casual or comfortable, but ragged and unwashed. He seemed pallid and grim, his emotion doing more physical change to his body then any injury ever could. He was tired, but running on a surge of sudden energy that seemed to have propelled him out of bed with such astounding force that all at once it now left him, and as he stared at you in amazement you could see the slow decline of his power in the slope of his shoulders and the curve of his back.

“You....you came back?” He sounded breathless and cold, as if he had forgotten how to speak. 

“Uh....hello to you too??” You were greatly confused, and the more of him you took in the more concerning a picture he painted. 

“I-,” he struggled against his own dry mouth, clasping and unclasping his hands in irritation until he gave up completely in favor of embracing you. 

“I thought....,” his voice cracked in a way that was unbecoming of him, “I thought I lost you.”

For a moment you were at loss for words, simply letting him hold you in desperation as you sorted out the sheer severity and grief he presented to you out of nowhere. As emotionally withdrawn as he could be, you knew that he was capable of some degree of vulnerability when he was pushed, but even then he had always held back and maintained control. He wasn’t nearly close to hysterics, but even this raw and tender moment of genuine sadness was something so foreign in him to express. 

“Risotto,” you slowly came to caress his back in a slow, smooth rhythm, “did you really think I would just leave you so suddenly like that?”

He said nothing, nor did he exhibit any further signs of remorse, his breathing even, but labored. 

“Look, I’m sorry I was gone for a few days. I needed to...to be somewhere else for a little while cause I was mad. We were mad, and I just...”

You struggled to put your thoughts into words. Just because you were no longer in fury over your argument, it didn’t mean that all was settled between you two, and you were torn between putting that aside in favor of comforting him and admitting that you still wished to come to a conclusion.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come home right away. We still need to talk about what happened, but I need you to know before we do so that I would never just walk out on you like that. It’s a really shitty way to end things, and I’m not that kind of person. So just....”

You trailed off, unsure of how to end it in any other way besides physical. You kept him close and tight, letting him stew in what you said in the hopes that he would be reciprocal to you. 

After a moment he spoke.

“This is reason enough to leave somebody, you know. I didn’t blame you at all.”

And for a normal couple in a normal relationship, it would have been. For people that weren’t criminals it would have been more than enough. You weren’t stronger or more capable of love because you still chose to love him in spite of that he had done, that wasn’t at all what this was. But whatever this thing was between you, it was something of value that neither of you wanted to lose. 

When the discussion would come it would be...a lot. A lot of talk on policies and emotion, practicality and sensibility and work and life, debate on balances and justifications and paradoxes and everything you could think of to argue until you both were incapable of arguing any further. It would exhausting, and you would both be angry again, but in time you would settle and talk, and eventually you would come to see each other in a new light. 

But that would be later. For now you held each other in the most basic and understood manner of love known to man, and that was enough for both of you. 

[coolfire333]

Ok gotta calm down and focus on something else. One of my favorite things about Adel from trauma center is that his story almost mirrors Derek’s in a lot of ways while also serving almost like a foil to Naomi’s. 

He just wants to help people out of the kindness in his heart, but he ends up getting obsessed with the healing touch as a means to solve all problems, and instead of focusing on his pure skill as a doctor he uses the artificial healing touch as a crutch and is in disbelief when this fails him. 

This is much like Derek’s initial cockiness about his skills as a doctor that ends up getting him reviewed for misconduct by Dr. Hoffman, and is also similar to when Derek fails to save Emilio and blames it on his reliance on the healing touch instead of recognizing that it was nobody’s fault. 

Sidenote: Adel’s disbelief that the healing touch isn’t a cure-all and has its own limits is also reminiscent of Leonardo Bello’s behavior in new blood

Adel also ends up joining forces with evil, and the way this happens is similar to Naomi’s own storyline while also contrasting it in a really interesting way. He joins the hands of asclepius not knowing they’re secretly up to no good, while Naomi fully knows that delphi is bad business. Adel still wants to help people in the end by joining the hoa, and we never really find out how much he knew about their bad practices since we never see his perspective, but even if he knew they were experimenting with things that they shouldn’t have been, he’d still use this logic to rationalize his choice. Naomi joins delphi for the chance to practice her skills, and while she does show concern for the life of the patient, she certainly has no qualms doing unethical operations arguably for the money. 

Sidenote (again): reminder that Naomi’s choice to either operate unethically or potentially never operate again is also the choice Kidman offers to Markus, Elena, and Valerie in new blood, with the difference being that they’re so disgusted at the concept that they choose to die rather than to be forced to cooperate. Naomi is in a much less forced condition (she might never be a doctor again due to blacklisting if she doesn’t work with delphi but the new blood gang were literally kidnapped at gunpoint so they REALLY have no options) and yet she still chooses the morally questionable option pretty willingly (which, based on her behavior in trauma team, I’m sure she very much regrets)

HOWEVER Adel is not 100% innocent in this, just like how Naomi isn’t 100% guilty. He admits that even though he was under the influence of neo-guilt, he never said or did anything that he didn’t at least partially want, meaning that his coldness and violence towards Derek were partially things he’d been thinking about all along due to the frustration, jealousy, and sense of abandonment he’d been harboring ever since Derek failed to operate on him

Additionally, Adel also loses his healing touch, much like Derek and Naomi. Derek’s loss of the healing touch was only temporary, but Adel and Naomi lost their healing touches forever by the choices they made to cooperate with the hoa and delphi respectively. Adel’s healing touch being artificial doesn’t make his loss of it any less difficult to him than what happened to Naomi, in fact in some ways it’s worse because he was finally able to get a glimpse of what he always wanted, only to fly too close to the sun and have it taken away, while Naomi always regarded her abilities as somewhat of a curse due to the stigma it caused her to experience. 

Also, I have a theory that Naomi’s healing touch wasn’t lost, it just mutated into her ability to hear the last words of the dead when she contracted her guilt-exposure-based disease, but that’s another post entirely.

[mirrortouchedsea]

I belong with the salt and the sea and the stones (Save them all for me)

Pairings: Kaoru Hakaze/Kanata Shinkai

Notes: Fantasy AU, Work in Progress, Inconsistent updates

Chapter 1/? Next

Word Count: 6,831

Summary: When they asked him about what he had been doing out there, he told them about a strange blue haired boy. The servant told him there was nobody who could fit that description, as blue hair wasn’t natural and they were miles away from the nearest town. They told him it was probably just a figment of his imagination he came up with to help cope with the loss of his mother. Kaoru felt it deep in his bones that Kanata was real.

Read on AO3

---

Kaoru’s eyes burned in the sea breeze as he sat on a large rock far away from his father’s castle. He was eight years old and his mother had just died. His father has said something that was fuzzy in Kaoru’s mind now, but still stung enough that he ran away. Something about needing to grow up already. 

The noise clouded his mind and made it hard to focus on anything, but the gentle lapping of the waves eventually calmed him down. 

At some point he must have buried his head in his knees, and a gentle tapping on his foot made him look up. 

“Who’re you?” he asked, a little irritated. 

“I am ‘kanata’” the boy responded, curious green eyes staring right through Kaoru’s. 

“I’m Kaoru.” 

“It is nice to ‘meet’ you, kaoru,” the boy said, tilting his head. 

It was strange to Kaoru, that another boy would be out here this time of day, the sun slowly setting over the horizon. There wasn’t a nearby village and none of the servants had ever said anything about having kids. 

“Where are you from?” he decided to ask. 

Kanata’s face turned sad. 

“I cannot ‘tell’ you that right ‘now’.” 

Kaoru’s face scrunched up. 

“What do you mean?” 

“I cannot say.” 

There wasn’t any use in pushing the question further. 

“Why are you ‘here’?” the strange boy asked, laying his head against his arms, which he had folded atop the rock. 

Kaoru opened his mouth before closing it again. Why was he here? He was mad at his father, he was grieving his mother, his siblings were grieving in their own ways and were much too old to care about little Kaoru. 

“My mom loved the ocean,” he said, avoiding a direct answer. 

Kanata hummed and started drawing designs on the rock with his finger. 

“Did something happen?” 

“I don’t want to talk about it.” 

Kaoru would have left it at that, but clearly Kanata was determined to do something about Kaoru’s bad mood. 

“Do you want to play a ‘game’?” he asked after a few moments of silence. 

“What kind of game?” 

There wasn’t really anything to lose. He needed to get his father’s voice out of his head, and may as well try whatever game Kanata was thinking of. 

Kanata dove under the waves for a moment before emerging with what appeared to be an oyster. The boy with blue hair smashed the oyster on the rock and started drawing something with the sharp edge. 

Kaoru watched as Kanata scratched a few crude lines in the stone. They formed a small grid and Kaoru didn’t recognize it from any of the games he would play by himself in the castle. 

Kanata drew a crude ‘X’ in one of the grid spaces and held the oyster shell out for Kaoru to take. 

Kaoru took it but his confusion must have shown on his face, because Kanata began to describe the rules of the game. 

“We will ‘take turns’ drawing an ‘X’ or ‘O’ in these spaces,” Kanata pointed to the little squares individually. “I am ‘X’ and you are ‘O’. Whoever gets ‘three in a row’ will win.” 

Seemed simple enough. Kaoru drew an ‘O’ in the space opposite Kanata’s ‘X’. 

He passed the oyster shell back to Kanata, and the game was over quickly. Kaoru had tried to block one of Kanata’s attempts at getting three in a row, only to be foiled by Kanata’s clever set up. 

“You win!” he exclaimed, in awe of the strategy he had to put into such a simple game. 

Kanata chuckled. 

“Would you like to play again?” he asked. 

Kaoru nodded and began drawing another grid on the stone before drawing in an ‘X’ in the upper right corner. 

The two boys covered that rock in little grids with Xs and Os well into the night. At some point they had lost track of who had won more games, but it didn’t matter as they tried to outsmart each other the next round. 

Kaoru almost didn’t notice how late it was until someone started calling his name. He looked up and saw that the moon was shining bright overhead with the stars. How long had he stayed out with Kanata?

“Sorry Kanata, that’s one of my dad’s friends calling me,” he turned to say goodbye to his new friend, but found that they had slipped away while he wasn’t looking. The only evidence of their encounter were the grids covering the rock and the broken pieces of oyster shell scattered around him. 

Kaoru opened his mouth to call out to Kanata before he heard his name again. 

“I’m coming!” he yelled as he stood up and stretched. His knees felt a little cramped from sitting on the rock all evening. He shot one last glance out to the ocean, hoping that Kanata might be out there and he could at least say goodbye. 

There was nothing but the calm waves crashing to shore. 

“Oh thank goodness, Kaoru you’re okay!” the servant said as they picked him up. 

Normally Kaoru would protest against being treated like this, but tonight he just curled into their arms. 

When they asked him about what he had been doing out there, he told them about a strange blue haired boy. The servant told him there was nobody who could fit that description, as blue hair wasn’t natural and they were miles away from the nearest town. 

They told him it was probably just a figment of his imagination he came up with to help cope with the loss of his mother. 

Kaoru felt it deep in his bones that Kanata was real. 

--- 

Kaoru went back to the rock again the next night, desperate to see Kanata again. To prove that he hadn’t made up the boy in a fit of grief. 

The remains of the oyster shell had been blown away during the night, but the scattered grids with Xs and Os remained. 

He sat out on the rock again and dipped his feet in the water. Maybe Kanata will come back again today. 

Over an hour had passed when Kaoru began pulling his feet out of the water and he had decided to just go back to the castle. Maybe Kanata was busy today, or maybe his parents had taken him back home, wherever that was, and they couldn’t meet again. 

Maybe their meeting on the rock yesterday was supposed to be just that. 

Kaoru had stood up and was shaking his legs dry when Kanata poked his head out of the water again. 

“Kanata!” he exclaimed, quickly sitting down again. 

“It is good to ‘see’ you again, kaoru,” the boy smiled at him, laying his head on his arms again. “I am ‘sorry’ for ‘leaving’ yesterday, but it is ‘dangerous’ for me to be here that ‘late’.” 

Kaoru still couldn’t understand what Kanata was saying. It’s not like Kanata was a mermaid or something, right? His mom had told him those only existed in stories. 

They were both kids though, so he probably meant it was dangerous to be out that late alone. Just like what his father’s servant had said last night. 

But now Kaoru had proof that Kanata was real. He was right there! 

Kaoru reached a hand out to touch Kanata’s hair, just to make sure. 

Kanata pulled away before he could feel it for more than a moment. 

“What are you ‘doing’, kaoru?” 

Kanata was frowning.

“I-- uh…” Kaoru started. 

What was he doing? 

“I just…wanted to make sure you were real, I guess.” 

“Why would I not be ‘real’?” 

“I dunno, my dad’s…friend said that people don’t have blue hair.” 

Kanata laughed. 

“You can ‘touch’ it then, but please be ‘careful’.” 

Kaoru gently reached out once more and gently grabbed a lock of Kanata’s hair in his thumb and forefinger. 

It was grainy and scratchy, as if it wasn’t quite hair. Kaoru tried to recall one of the books he had read in the library about hair on sea creatures being less like hair and more like…it was on the tip of his tongue but he couldn’t quite recall.  

“Why does it feel like that?” he asked, pulling away. 

Kanata chuckled. 

“I cannot ‘tell’ you yet.” 

Kaoru groaned. 

“When can you tell me?” 

“Maybe when we are both ‘older’,” Kanata responded. 

“That’s so far away though!” Kaoru wrapped his arms around his knees and laid his head against them. 

They sat in silence for a few moments. 

“Thank you, Kanata,” Kaoru finally murmured, letting the breeze carry his words away. 

Kanata hummed and tilted his head as if he hadn’t heard what Kaoru had just said. 

“I said ‘Thank you, Kanata’,” Kaoru said a little louder. “For yesterday, I mean.” 

“You seemed ‘sad’ and I wanted to ‘grant’ your wish and make you ‘happy’. Are you ‘happy’ now, Kaoru?” 

“A little bit…but what do you mean ‘grant my wish’?” 

Kanata’s eyes widened, like that was something he wasn’t supposed to say to Kaoru. 

“I…need to ‘leave’.” 

Kanata tried to move away from the rock but Kaoru grabbed his wrist at the same time. It was wet and slimy. 

“Promise me you won’t leave me, Kanata.” 

Kaoru felt tears pricking at his eyes. He couldn’t have the only person who had ever treated him like a normal kid, like a friend, leave him like this. He wouldn’t let them. 

“Is that what you ‘wish’?” he asked. 

“Yes! Yes it’s what I wish. Please be my friend…” Kaoru felt the tears spill over as he pulled Kanata’s hand closer to his chest. “Please, Kanata…” 

Kanata looked conflicted. His eyes went from scared, to uncertain, to a slew of other emotions that Kaoru didn’t have the words for before he finally settled on one. Determination. 

“I promise that we will be friends, kaoru.” 

“Pinky promise?” Kaoru let go of Kanata’s wrist and held out his hand, pinky outstretched. 

Kanata looked curiously at his hand before holding his own hand up in the same manner. Kaoru linked their pinkies and shook on it. 

“You have to keep your promise now!” 

The two boys laughed at their deal and Kaoru felt like a weight was lifted off his chest. 

--- 

Kaoru returned the next day, and the day after that. He came back to their spot as frequently as he could just to catch even a glimpse of his new friend, his only friend. 

Some days he would sit out there for several hours and Kanata wouldn’t even peek his head above the water before Kaoru gave up. Others, Kanata would meet him there and practically jump out of the water to greet him. 

Those days they would spend hours talking, playing games, just being kids. Both of them would come to cherish every moment of it, not knowing when their parents would take them away from each other. 

It was one day at the end of the summer when Kaoru was told by his father that they would be returning to the city, casually leaving out the part about returning to a castle. Kaoru’s summer spent out by the ocean would be over. 

That day, he walked back down to the beach, finding a familiar blue head of hair laying on their rock already. 

Kaoru’s mood was so bad that he couldn’t even bring himself to call out to Kanata like he normally did, running and giggling and excited to see his friend. 

He pulled himself up on the rock and began running his fingers through Kanata’s hair (something the other boy had grown more used to since their first encounter). 

“Is something ‘wrong’, kaoru?” he asked, picking up on his mood. 

Kaoru hummed dejectedly. 

“Yeah. Father says we’re going back home tomorrow,” he sighed and turned towards Kanata. “I don’t want to leave you though.” 

Kanata dipped his fingers in the water before doodling small designs on Kaoru’s feet and legs. Kaoru jumped slightly at the sudden touch but quickly relaxed and let Kanata trace the various designs. 

“Will you ‘return’ here again?” Kanata asked. 

“Maybe next summer, but that’s so far away. I don’t want to leave.” 

Kanata tilted his head in contemplation. 

“Why don’t we make a ‘promise’ then?” 

Kaoru’s mind flashed to earlier that summer and their promise to be friends. 

“Promise to meet again next summer?” He held out his pinky. 

Kanata took it in his own, familiar with the gesture this time. 

“Promise.” 

And with that, their fate was sealed. 

--- 

Kaoru wandered the palace halls when he returned. What was Kanata doing right now? Was he feeling the same way? Did he still wait for him at their spot, even though Kaoru had told them he was leaving? 

Kaoru found himself in the library, flipping through books about the ocean and the creatures that lived there. Kanata still hadn’t gotten out of the water all summer and Kaoru was beginning to think something was up. 

He may be 8 years old, almost 9 mind you, but he wasn’t stupid. 

He found a few books on mermaids that his mother had insisted on keeping for him. He had always been a mother’s boy growing up, hadn’t he. 

All of the books said that mermaids either weren’t real, or if they were, they avoided human contact at all costs. Was Kanata just a strange child from a nearby village? Nobody had ever mentioned a village that was close to their summer residence. Maybe they kept it a secret. 

There was no way Kanata was a mermaid, Kaoru decided. Kanata just liked to be in the water. But how did he manage to sneak away whenever one of the royal servants called Kaoru back for dinner time? Surely he would have noticed footprints in the sand. 

All of the information made Kaoru’s head swim. Everything seemed to be in conflict with everything else. Maybe he just wasn’t looking close enough. He would have to investigate further when he returned to their summer home the next year. 

He closed the book and looked outside, realizing just how late he had stayed up again. Hopefully his father didn’t have any plans the next day and he could sleep in a little bit. 

Kaoru padded through the halls as quietly as he could, being very careful to avoid slipping and falling. Most of the doors were closed and the only lights came from the wall sconces that had been turned down for the night. Enough to see by for the nightly cleaning but nothing more than that. 

He was almost back to his room when he noticed that the door to his father’s room was open and the lights were on. Kaoru debated if he should peek in or just go to bed. It was getting late and he would get in trouble if they found him out this late. 

He quickly decided to walk closer to the door and try to listen to what was going on, but he didn’t want to spend too much time lingering at the door. 

“...blue haired boy at the beach?” He caught the tail end of a sentence. 

“Yes, and it seems he spent most of his time down at the beach playing with his ‘friend’, though we’ve never seen this blue haired child.” 

“Thank you for the information. You may go now.” 

Kaoru quickly started running towards his door at that. It was only two doors up the hallway, he could make it before the servant walked in the hallway and noticed him. 

He gently opened the door and prayed that it wouldn’t make any noise as he slipped inside and closed it again. 

What had he just heard? His father was talking to one of the servants that had taken care of him over the summer, that much was clear. And it was someone who knew about Kanata, which he had only mentioned maybe once or twice before realizing nobody believed him about the boy’s existence. 

Hopefully it was just nothing. 

Kaoru took a deep breath and closed his eyes, trying to calm his heart rate down before bed. 

In. 

. 

. 

. 

Out. 

. 

. 

. 

Kaoru opened his eyes again and got into bed, not even bothering to change out of his day clothes before falling into a deep, dreamless sleep. 

--- 

Kaoru manages to avoid being asked about Kanata and what they did this summer. He overhears conversations between his father and his advisors late at night, discussing if the blue haired boy might be real, and what he could be. 

Kaoru regrets saying anything at all about Kanata, but every night he prays to whatever god is out there that they don’t go looking for him. 

He debates telling Kanata about everything next summer when he’ll be back at their summer home.

Kaoru is only 9 years old and has to consider the consequences of his actions in such a serious manner. It often keeps him up at night, waking him from nightmares where Kanata is kidnapped and forced to give up information about…mermaids? He can’t quite tell since the scene cuts out before he can try and save his friend. 

Kaoru doesn’t get much sleep. He has bags under his eyes and less energy and everyone notices but nobody says anything. His family talk at him rather than to him, not that he minds much since it goes in one ear and out the other. 

Everyone assumes he’s still grieving his mother and leaves it at that. And to some extent, it is. He still yearns for his mother’s touch, her gentle hugs and the stories she would tell him every night and the love he felt whenever he was in her presence. 

He cries himself to sleep those nights, only to be woken up to nightmares of Kanata being captured and thrust into a reality where he has nobody to comfort him anymore. 

--- 

The next summer, Kaoru bolts to their special rock. His eyes scan the ocean for any sign of Kanata: his blue hair, green eyes, odd splashing amidst the waves. 

He even goes to shout Kanata’s name out before realizing that it might not be the best idea. So Kaoru sits on the rock and dips his feet in the water, kicking them gently to create little waves. He would do his best to wait patiently for Kanata and organize his thoughts. 

He got there when the sun was still high in the sky and it was almost sunset when Kanata’s head poked out of the water. Kaoru almost jumped off the rock and into the water to give him a hug when he noticed the tell-tale green eyes and light blue hair. Kanata beat him to the punch and practically tackled him in a hug. 

The two boys laughed for a few minutes, Kanata rolled off Kaoru and sank back into the water before Kaoru could get a good look at the lower half of his body. 

Their giggles died down and Kaoru took a deep, shaky breath. Why did this have to be so hard? It’s not like Kanata was actually in any danger…right? 

“Kanata, can I ask you something?” he said, looking down at his knees. His hands curled into fists on his lap. 

“Of course, kaoru,” Kanata replied, laying his head on the rock like he always did.

“Are you…a mermaid?” he asked, still not looking at Kanata. He could feel his face heat up in embarrassment. “I mean…that’s silly. Obviously you aren’t a mermaid, those are only from fairy tales and it was stupid of me to even ask--” 

“Kaoru,” Kanata interrupted. “I am a ‘mermaid’.” 

Kaoru looked up, eyes widened in confusion. Kanata was…a mermaid? 

Before Kaoru could ask what he meant, Kanata shifted and raised a tail partially above the surface of the water. It was a deep blue-gray color with shark-like fins. 

Kaoru had never seen something so beautiful and he wanted to brush his hand over it, like he had with Kanata’s hair last year. He knew he shouldn't, especially since Kanata had hidden his tail from him for so long. He must have had his reasons, given how in the stories humans always hunted mermaids to show off and take them away from their families. 

Kaoru didn’t know much about Kanata’s life in the ocean, but he couldn’t imagine taking Kanata away from it either. Even if it meant they got to see each other more often. 

Kanata lowered his tail back in the water, creating a gentle splash as he moved back towards the rock. 

Kaoru opened his mouth, closed it, and then opened it again. He was too awestruck to speak. His friend was actually a mermaid? 

Can he touch Kanata’s tail? 

Why was that his first thought? Kaoru slapped his cheeks and got his thoughts in order. 

“That’s so cool, Kanata!” he exclaimed. It wasn’t a lie, Kanata’s tail was very, very cool to the 9-year-old boy with two legs. 

Kanata chuckled. 

“We are not supposed to ‘tell’ humans about our ‘existence’. Please do not ‘tell’ anyone ‘else’ about this.” 

Kanata’s tone was more serious than normal and understandably so. 

“Of course!” Kaoru said, maybe a little too quickly. “I pinky promise!” 

Kaoru held out his pinky, which Kanata accepted with ease. Kaoru laughed and lay back on the rock, and Kanata pulled himself up to join him. 

The two boys talked for hours, watching the clouds move and pointing out the different shapes (Kanata insisted they were all different types of sea creatures even when it was clearly a duck), catching up on the past 9 months of their lives. Kaoru found out Kanata’s birthday was only two months before his, and that Kanata had always wanted to try human food. Kaoru told Kanata about his mom and his fascination with the sea that she fostered in him. 

Eventually, however, it was time for them to part ways once again. Kaoru couldn’t risk the castle servants catching a glimpse of Kanata now, and it was almost time for dinner, which meant they would be coming to get him soon. 

“We will meet again ‘tomorrow’, yes?” Kanata asked, sliding back into the water. 

“Of course! Wouldn’t miss it for the world!” Kaoru replied, putting his stockings and shoes back on. They would be full of sand and smell like sea water later, but someone else would deal with that. 

Kanata chuckled. 

“I look forward to seeing you ‘tomorrow’, kaoru.” 

He slipped beneath the waves and swam away. 

Kaoru swears he saw Kanata wave at him before he got too far away. Kaoru waved back. 

--- 

That night, the servants asked him again what he had been doing out so late. Kaoru took a moment before answering, leaving them only with a vague “Playing in the ocean.” 

It wasn’t a lie per se, but it wasn’t the entire truth. 

He ate dinner with his family in relative silence, letting the conversation happen around him and only offering a polite nod when asked a question he wasn’t paying attention to. His mind was still on the blue haired boy he knew now to be a mermaid. 

Kaoru eventually holed up in the library with some of his favorite books to read for the night until he got too tired or his candle burnt out, whichever came first. 

He had grabbed a few books related to mermaids, ones that his mother had read to him when she was still alive. Kaoru could still see part of her in them, the little crinkles where she would hold the page, the tears when she turned a page too fast, excited to continue the story with him. 

Kaoru could feel the tears pricking at his eyes, so he put the book down and grabbed another one, but it was no use. Every book in the library had been something his mother had picked out herself for everyone. 

Kaoru decided that he had read enough for the night and walked back to his room. Just like he had a few months ago, he paused in front of the cracked door to his father’s quarters and listened in. 

“--mermaids. I thought they were just a myth but could he really…” his father’s voice trailed off, but Kaoru could put 2 and 2 together. 

Kaoru did not sleep very well that night. 

--- 

“Hey, Kanata. Can I ask you a question?” Kaoru kicked his feet in the water, gently splashing Kanata’s face. 

Kanata tilted his head. “What do you ‘want’ to ‘know’, kaoru?” 

“I thought mermaids were supposed to keep their identity a secret, so…I was wondering why you told me?” 

The question hung in the air for a long moment. Kaoru couldn’t bring himself to breathe. 

“It is because i ‘trust’ you, kaoru.” 

“Can you really trust me? I haven’t even told you about who I really am.” 

Kanata furrowed his eyebrows. 

“What do you ‘mean’, kaoru?” 

Kaoru took a deep breath and stared at the water. He dipped a finger into the ocean and began drawing little circles with it. 

“I…never told you that I’m a prince. And my dad is the king of this land.” He couldn’t bring himself to look at Kanata. 

“Well I don’t see why that would ‘change’ anything between us?” Kanata responded. “I am also an ‘important person’ back home.” 

“You are?” Kaoru asked, curious now. 

“I do not think I can ‘tell’ you the ‘details’ though.” 

“Is that why you always talk like that?” The question slips out of Kaoru’s mouth before his brain can keep up with it. 

“What do you ‘mean’, kaoru?” 

“I mean it’s like…” he had to pause for a moment. How could he begin to describe how Kanata spoke? 

“It’s like…you emphasize random words more than others? And you pronounce things weird sometimes.” 

“I think ‘you’ are the one who speaks ‘weirdly’, kaoru.” 

Kaoru laughed. 

“Well I guess we both talk weirdly then.” 

Kanata chuckled and moved to sit on the rock with him. 

“I trust you because you are ‘like me’,” he said simply, answering Kaoru’s earlier question. “I don’t think you would ‘tell’ anyone my ‘secret’.” 

That made enough sense, Kaoru supposed. It’s not like Kaoru had anyone he really could tell, since he didn’t like his father and his siblings never took him seriously. He hated being so much younger than them sometimes, but it was times like this where he didn’t mind. 

It meant he had Kanata all to himself. 

He felt Kanata lean his head on his shoulder. The two boys looked out at the sunset together until they eventually fell asleep. 

There was nowhere else Kaoru would rather be. 

---

Much like the last summer, Kaoru spent his days running off to the beach, sitting on that rock where he had met Kanata all those months ago. 

The anniversary of his mother’s death hit him hard, but Kanata proved more than enough of a distraction from the tense atmosphere around his family. It was so thick that week he could have cut it with a knife. 

Kaoru was suffocating the more he spent around his older siblings and his father. Even though Kaoru was only 9 years old, he was expected to start taking on more serious duties in the next few years, and they only wanted to prepare him for that. 

Kaoru just wanted to hold onto his freedom for as long as possible. So he continued to meet with Kanata and play games, swim, and make up stupid stories about the different people in their lives. 

It was the only time Kaoru was ever truly free to be himself anymore. 

He swore he would engrave these memories on his brain so he could think back on them when he inevitably had to return to the city at the end of the summer. 

He also spent his nights having to sneak back from the library, where he was constantly reading up on mermaids when the weather was too bad for him to go visit Kanata. He would sneak past his father’s room and catch glimpses of late night conversations that he didn’t want to stick around for. 

What he did manage to hear made him worry about Kanata, though. Did his father know about mermaids? Would they try to hurt Kanata and his family? Had they tried to do that in the past and were using Kaoru to get them to lower their defenses? 

Was Kaoru hurting Kanata by being his friend? 

These questions burned in Kaoru’s mind as he tried to sleep, but it was useless. By the end of the summer, the bags under his eyes were noticeable enough that even Kanata could no longer ignore them. 

“Have you been ‘sleeping’ well, kaoru?” he would ask, always cupping Kaoru’s face in his hands. 

“I just had a bad dream is all. Don’t worry about it.” 

The response was automatic, devoid of any real feelings. It was a lie of course, and Kanata saw right through it, but never said anything. 

Kanata would just offer Kaoru a place to close his eyes and said he would protect him from the bad dreams, “if that is what you ‘wish’.” 

That’s how Kaoru slept the last month of the summer: long naps on the beach with Kanata stroking his hair and calling him a good boy. It was a strange habit that he had, but Kaoru didn’t mind. 

It reminded him of his mother, and that was all he needed to relax to the touch. 

He never had a nightmare while sleeping on the beach. 

--- 

If Kaoru was being honest, it was harder for him to go home this summer than it had been last year. He and Kanata had gotten closer and Kanata was more open now that Kaoru knew about his secret. 

The two played in the water frequently, Kanata using his tail to splash Kaoru on the rocks to taunt him into jumping into the water. Kaoru would retaliate by jumping in and tackling Kanata in a hug and dragging them both under for a moment until Kanata righted them and brought them to the surface, laughing and smiling. 

Sometimes the two would swim out beyond the rocks, Kaoru clinging to Kanata’s back to stay above the water and Kanata would swim in slow circles and coax fish to the surface for Kaoru to pet. 

Kaoru would spend the rainy days in the library looking for books on the fish that Kanata showed him, learning all that he could to try and impress his friend with his knowledge. Kanata would always smile and say that the fish loved Kaoru too. 

All of that just made it harder for Kaoru to leave. The carriage was waiting outside and his father was calling his name, but Kaoru’s legs wouldn’t move. It was as if his legs had been screwed to the floor until one of the servants gently nudged him forward. 

The tears came to his eyes as he made his way forward, arms hugging his torso to try and find some sense of comfort as he left their summer home behind for another 8 months. 

Kanata will still be there next year, he told himself. Just hang out until then.

--- 

They were 10 years old the next time they met. Kaoru had devoured everything he could at the main castle’s library during his 8 months away and had way too many questions for Kanata. 

Have mermaids always hidden themselves from humans? Why did they start hiding themselves? Have there been other humans who actually knew about mermaids? Is anything in the fairy tales he grew up reading true? 

Kanata, for his part, did his best to answer these questions. 

Mermaids haven’t always kept themselves hidden from humans, but recent events have made them hesitant to expose themselves. There were cases of humans using magic to come down to mermaid kingdoms, but most of their accounts were greatly exaggerated. And yes, there was a way for humans to enchant themselves to go under the water, but it only lasted a few days even when cast by the strongest of magic users. 

Most of the fairy tale stories were just that, stories. 

Kaoru became fascinated by the idea that people could visit the world of the mermaids. 

“Do you think I could do that one day?” he asked, sitting in his usual spot on the rock and gently kicking his feet. 

“You will need to ‘learn’ how to ‘swim’ first, kaoru.” Kanata replied, laying next to him. 

Kanata had become more comfortable pulling himself out of the water around Kaoru since their first meeting. 

“Agh, that’s true. My mom wanted to teach me but my father thought it was ‘un-prince like’ or whatever.” His face crinkled into a pout. 

“Do you think you could teach me how to swim, Kanata?” Kaoru asked, turning to face the other boy. 

“I do not have ‘legs’ so I do not think it would be very ‘effective’.” 

Kaoru laid down and crossed his arms. 

“But there has to be some way I can learn to swim, even if you can’t teach me.” 

Kanata hummed in thought for a moment. 

“I might know ‘someone’ who can help ‘us’ with our ‘problem’.” 

Kaoru shot back upright again. 

“Really!?” he asked, eyes shining in anticipation. 

“Yes, but I will have to ‘ask’ him ‘later’.” 

Kaoru nodded his head and moved to hug Kanata on the rock. 

“Thank you, Kanata!” he said, nuzzling into the boy’s neck. 

Kanata chuckled. 

“Of course, kaoru.” 

--- 

It was another two weeks before Kaoru got to meet Kanata’s other friend, a boy from a small fishing village nearby named Chiaki Morisawa. The boy had deep chestnut brown hair and brilliant red eyes, and entirely too excited to meet the other friend Kanata had apparently been talking about for the past two weeks. 

Chiaki explains that he didn’t have time to come all the way up the bay until today, which was normally a day of relaxation, though his parents knew he liked to hang out with some kids from other villages in the bay. As long as he was back before the second meal the next day they wouldn’t worry about him. 

Kaoru was a little shocked at first to see Chiaki as he was, in clothes that had seen better days but clearly were well taken care of anyway, and a straw hat that was on its last legs after who knows how many days on the water. 

Chiaki was also shocked to find out that the friend Kanata had been talking about was the prince of the kingdom. Evidently Kanata had kept their unspoken promise to keep that a secret. Kaoru had to clap a hand over his mouth to keep him from yelling out how shocked he was at the revelation and had to bribe him not to tell anyone he was giving the youngest prince swimming lessons of all things. 

Not that anyone in Chiaki’s village would believe him anyway, Kaoru thought, but he just wanted to keep these meetings as quiet as possible. What would his father think if he found out he had been meeting with a commoner, after all. 

Kanata helps Chiaki pull his little boat to the shore and Chiaki almost tackles Kaoru in a hug as a greeting. Kaoru didn’t mind this behavior from Kanata, but he had just met Chiaki. Kaoru puts his arms up to brace and keep some distance between them until Chiaki pulls away. 

There’s a sinking feeling in his gut when Chiaki pulls away with a slight frown, but Kaoru shoves that aside as Chiaki begins talking excitedly again about swimming. 

Kaoru wasn’t wearing anything too fancy, opting for some simple cotton clothes that could be easily washed without issue, though they still seemed fancier than Chiaki’s own clothes. 

Kaoru followed Chiaki into the water and listened to his explanation of simple swimming motions. They wouldn’t move beyond where they could touch the sand today, just so they didn’t have to worry about accidentally drowning. 

First things first though, Kaoru had to learn how to float on his back. 

“You’ll want to relax and lean your head back and keep your arms and legs straight,” Chiaki guided his hands under Kaoru’s back, and Kaoru had to try and not to flinch at the touch. Chiaki’s hands were much rougher than Kanata’s or anyones at the castle. But Chiaki was trying to be gentle and Kaoru knew Kanata was nearby. 

He did what was asked and leaned his head back and arched his back. Chiaki’s hands guided his movements. 

“I’m going to let go now, okay?” Chiaki said. 

Kaoru couldn’t respond before he felt Chiaki’s hands leave his skin. It took everything in him not to tilt himself upright again. He closed his eyes and willed himself to stay in the arched position. 

“Good boy!” Chiaki said. He must have picked that up from Kanata. 

“Don’t call me that. Only Kanata can call me that.” Kaoru said, continuing to float. 

“Oh, sorry!” Chiaki seemed overly apologetic over the whole thing. Kaoru didn’t say anything. 

Once Kaoru was able to get himself from standing to floating unassisted, they moved onto basic movements. Chiaki found a stray piece of driftwood that would support Kaoru’s weight, despite how uncomfortable it was to hold, so that he could practice kicking his legs. 

This part was surprisingly hard. Kaoru had to focus on keeping his legs as straight as possible while moving them up and down, while also making sure his hips moved in rhythm with them. 

He still hadn’t quite gotten the hang of it by the time Chiaki realized he had to go home for the night. 

“Just keep practicing…” 

“Hakaze.” He doesn’t know why he gave Chiaki his family name. 

“Right! Just keep practicing, Hakaze! I’ll see if I can come back again next week and we can keep working on swimming!” 

“Of course,” he replied, with half a smile. 

Kanata waved goodbye as well before helping Chiaki get his boat on the water and the two left to go back to Chiaki’s village. 

Why was he so…disappointed in meeting the other boy? Maybe that wasn’t the right word, but he had been so excited to meet him just two weeks ago. Was it just the time that had passed? Was it the idea that Kanata, despite being a mermaid, was able to make another friend so easily? Did their personalities just not mesh very well? 

Was Kaoru just being too hard on Chiaki? 

Was he…jealous? 

Kaoru didn’t want to sit with the thought for too long. He needed to get back again and change his clothes. 

He walked back to shore and shook himself dry in the same manner a dog would before changing into his dry clothes. They still clung to him slightly but it was better than the dripping wet clothes he was wearing. 

What was this heaviness he felt in his heart? 

---

Their routine continued for the rest of the summer. Every two weeks, Chiaki would get towed over by Kanata on a small canoe and they would have swimming lessons. Kaoru’s progress was slow but it was paying off. 

By the end of the summer, the three of them were splashing and having fun away from shore. Kaoru had grown more…tolerant of Chiaki. He didn’t flinch when the boy crushed him in a hug, but he still pushed him away once the moment grew too long. 

He felt a pit in his stomach whenever Chiaki and Kanata seemed to be in on something together before dragging Kaoru out with them. He wasn’t an afterthought, clearly, but it felt like he wasn’t in on the joke. 

He missed the days when it was just him and Kanata. They had grown fewer and far-between as Kanata kept telling Kaoru that it was just stuff at home. 

“You do not need to ‘worry’ so much, Kaoru. There is just some…important business my family ‘needs’ me for.” Kanata told him one day, on a rare day where it was just the two of them. 

“I just…wish that I could help you with it. I miss when we just got to hang out every day.” Kaoru felt tears well up in his eyes. Why was he crying over this?

“Fufufu, but we are both growing ‘older’ and being given more ‘responsibilities. You have not been able to visit the beach as often as you would ‘like’ either.” 

Kaoru sighed. He was right. Both children were almost 12 now and Kaoru would have to give up all the free time he had enjoyed until now. But he still hoped that he and Kanata would be able to still be friends. 

“Why is life so haaaaaaard Kanata?” 

“I don’t know, Kaoru. But we will get through it ‘together’, yes?” 

“Of course! I would never dream of abandoning you!” 

“Then let’s make a ‘promise’.” 

Kanata stuck out his pinky, a now familiar gesture between the two boys, and Kaoru gratefully accepted. 

[doctorprofessorsong]

New fic rec list, and this one's a banger!

I CARRY YOUR HEART (I CARRY IT IN MY HEART by unicornpoe @danger-and-diatribes (Explicit, 26k)

Have you ever read a fic that you know a few lines in you will be reading again and again? A fic that you can feel rewiring your brain? This fic was it for me. The premise: when Cas is attacked and put into a magical coma, unable to awaken, Dean offers use of his vessel so that Cas can be conscious and with him while they find a cure.

I have talked about other unicornpoe fics in the past. I love that this author writes a deeply traumatized Dean and a deeply compassionate, patient Cas. And this one is particularly amazing. It's about trust. It's about letting yourself be loved. It's a Dean Winchester character study. It's so deeply compassionate and beautiful and it will make you hold your breath. 

 

let the sky turn red from how we burn by playedwright @castumes (Mature, 10k)

A Cas character study and one of the most beautiful things I have read in a long time. Cas relives his memories in The Empty ad his family tries to recover him. A simple enough concept so beautifully executed that it made me ugly cry, which is something I do not do. There is a gentleness and a longing to this fic that left me completely undone. 

It should be mandatory reading for Casgirls (gn). It's absolutely phenomenal. 

 

Evangelist by emmbrancsxx0 @valleydean (Explicit, 334k)

As you may know from my prior rec lists, I am VERY picky about AU fics. I have read so many great stories where I finish and say: that was a great story, but it wasn't THEM. And there is a soft bit of disappointment in it, because I wanted a Dean and Cas story. But I trust Mallory and I was so right. The Dean in this fic is very early Dean in a lot of ways. Lonely, self-sacrificing, feeling the burden of an absent father. But he’s also very comfortable with his sexuality. I love him. He's so intense and so lonely. But it's the Cas in this fic that makes me want to break through the wall like the kool-aid man. He is weird and awkward and earnest and adorable and I want to put him in my pocket. He's similar to Cinderwings Cas and Under the Midnight Sun Cas, two of my all time favorite Cas iterations. And together? They have that eye fucking, nobody else exists canon intensity. I was begging the to kiss by chapter 3. Meanwhile, the story has so many canon parallels to ground it in the show. Truly, it's an experience.

It's a college AU. Cas is a rich student from a family that basically owns the town and everyone in it. Dean is a bartender and a mechanic working to support his brother Sammy (also a student), during long absenses of his father (a trucker and stone cold bastard). After a few chance meetings, Dean and Cas find that they can't seem to help being pulled into each other's orbit. And they are truly so obsessed with each other that they barely notice the sketchy shit that is happening around them until it’s almost too late. 

 

Half Empty by Sinnabonka @sinnabonka (Mature, 37k) 

Plotty and complex, this one will keep you guessing until the end. Dean wakes up after an accident with memory loss. He struggles to put the pieces together regarding a case with several missing persons while also dealing with confusing and spotty memories.

I don't want to tell you too much, because half the fun is trying to untangle what's happening. But this is a story about grief and love and putting the pieces back together. It's also a horror story full of existential foreboding. It's beautiful and twisty and I can’t recommend it highly enough. 

Operation Brain Bleach by Briston (E, 30k words)

This cursed and funny concept makes for a really fun read. Eileen and Sam are tired of waiting for Dean and Cas to get their act together, so they concoct a plan to make them pretend they are in a relationship. Dean and Cas are all too happy to play along, with increasingly horny results. It's funny and fun and extremely readable.

A Different Kind of Monster by roadtonowhere (lastoryx) and xfancyfranzi (Explicit, 89k)

When Dean accidentally hits a monster with his car, he's forced to bring him along as he tries to understand what the hell he's dealing with. Cas is like no monster he's ever seen, and his presence forces Dean to confront everything his father taught him. A canon adjacent exploration of what would happen with a few changes, this one is really good. I love the slow dismantling of John's philosophies on sexuality, gender and monsters. In a lot of ways, this is a character study and an exploration of shades of gray in the SPN universe, but don't let that fool you. There are also several really great cases in the fic that will have you invested.

It's hopeful and satisfying. It's an interesting take on what might have been.

Contingency by Cheerful_Shinigami (Explicit, 123k)

I really didn't set out to read two alternate S4 fics, but they are both so good and super different. This fic explores an alternative story where Cas falls for one of his prior acts of rebellion and he decides to save Dean from Hell before he breaks, maintaining the first seal and angering Heaven and Hell. However, Cas is so damaged that he has to possess Dean. 

So much of this fic had me losing my mind. From reimagined episodes to some of my favorite Sammy content in a really long time (including a headcanon that I am obsessed with). The relationships are a bit healthier and everyone talks a bit more and honestly it's just a really great read from start to finish.

And if none of that tickles you pickle, help yourself to some prior rec lists.

And if you want to be tagged on my future fic rec lists, drop me a line.

[harry-writings]

The Happy Years

- The one where Y/n is unhappy in her engagement and finds an escape with her former lover

Part 1

Masterlist

(A/N) IM SO EARLY IM SORRY I KNOW I SAID 9PM BUT IM DONE SO MUCH SOONER THAN EXPECTED OKAY IM SORRY LOVE YALL <3333

-

Three years later.

The heaviest of thunderstorms hit the city of London by early morning, the loss of the sun and the gloom of the day leaving Harry bedridden for the first time in weeks.

He always tried his best to avoid days like this — trapped within his home, caged in memories that make every step he takes heavier than the last, wishing for just the smallest taste of salvation — because it’s when he’s left alone between these walls that the darkest parts of him come out, ravaging, feeding off of what’s left of him.

Rain reminds him of the day Y/n left. Thunder reminds him of Malibu. Malibu reminds him of all the things he ever used to do with her — on the bed, on the couch, in the hallways.

There’s no escape from what he’s done.

But when the time hits two in the afternoon and Harry still hasn’t gotten up from under his blankets, he decides that doing even the bare minimum with his day would be some sort of accomplishment.

He decided to get the mail.

And what a terrible decision that was, Harry thinks, as he sees an envelope addressed to him in unfamiliar handwriting by an unfamiliar name. Something about it upsets his stomach and throws him off key, knowing in his heart that he shouldn’t open it, but it’s heavy in his hands and he can’t ignore the temptation of it all.

Another terrible decision he’s made.

Please join us for the wedding of Alfie Lexington & Y/n Y/l/n.

Saturday, September 25, 2021 at 3:00 PM.

Dartmouth House. Mayfair, London.

The downpour feels like a drizzle compared to the cries Harry lets out as he reads the wedding invitation, his worst nightmare playing out right before his very eyes and if he wasn’t already so fucked up, he’d try his best to ignore it.

Y/n played her move. She wants him to strike back. She wants to win and watch him lose more than he already has. That’s all she has left of him.

His lips tremble as he sniffles, the invitation shaking between his palms as he lets reality sink in.

Y/n is getting married.

Y/n is happy.

Y/n is going to spend the rest of her life with somebody other than him — somebody that was once his friend.

It's unfathomable to him. The connection him and Y/n shared was unlike any other. They were drawn to each other instantaneously, their feelings of infatuation never once dying down because it was simply incapable of doing so.

They put each other first. They made each other better people, helped each other grow through all the droughts and winter days, and continuously found ways to become closer to one another. They were so comfortable and confident in their company, and so every day they spent together within those four years had never been anything less than pure happiness.

They were meant to be. He didn’t see it then, but he sees it now, and now that’s all he sees because everything he sees is her. 

To know that it’s no longer the same for her kills him from the inside out, because now she really doesn’t belong to him.

He lets out a sound that can only resemble what would be a whine and a groan made together, sobbing as he flips the invitation around, only to find another saved date he just doesn’t have the heart to see — an engagement party for all the invited to join.

He’s so overwhelmed with devastation that his brain becomes fogged, his body disassociating from itself as he rips the invitation apart, growling and screaming and wailing as he just keeps ripping it and ripping it and ripping it.

He’s destroying it in the same way it destroyed him until he gives up, slamming his fists down upon the counter, losing control of himself beneath all his pain and regrets. This wasn’t how any of this was supposed to happen. This isn’t what was supposed to come from this life.

He’s barely surviving as it is.

And he just needs to see her again.

But he doesn’t know how he’d react once he does. Whether he’d want to kiss her, to hate her, to love her all over again, he doesn’t know. His entire world is collapsing and he doesn’t know how to save it from falling apart. He can’t take any more risks when it comes to her.

But what is love without fear and danger? What would it say about him if he were to walk away from this now instead of trying just once more with her?

So with a heavy heart and a sobbing chest, he doesn’t take his chances.

And Y/n simply just couldn’t believe the sight in front of her.

Harry is standing at her doorstep, soaked head to toe, shaking in his bones. His lips are a light shade of blue and his eyes an alarming shade of red, somehow wetter than the rest of him. And as the thunder rumbles beneath her feet and nearly sends her to her knees, it goes to show her that he really is here, standing at her doorstep, and it’s not just a dream.

And she must have been struck by the shock of his presence because her tongue is suddenly tied, her throat dry, her lips fallen open yet forgetting how to breathe.

She just looks at him, soaking him all in, trying to understand what exactly led him back to the biggest mistake of his life.

“Harry?”

“So that was your way of getting back at me?! After three fucking years?!”

Her mouth falls open in disbelief, her eyebrows furrowing in defense. How he could possibly accuse her of something she didn’t even do — considering she hadn’t made any attempts to reach out to him since the moment she left Malibu — makes her feel even more betrayed than before.

He should know her better than this. He should know her from the inside out at this point, but she supposed three years really is a long time, because she’s never seen this side of Harry before. He seems so different to her now.

“Don’t you dare come to my home and try to make an ass out of me! Since when have I ever been the kind of person to get back at somebody?!”

Harry stutters for a moment, his anger and jealousy and hurt blinding him from the truth that Y/n never goes out of her way to get even. Her heart is too big, but he can’t shake this feeling that the person who sent him the invitation was out to do him harm.

And nobody had more of a reason to hurt him than Y/n.

“So the wedding invitation, then? You had nothing to do with that?”

He speaks it condescending, as if he didn’t believe a word she said, but that’s not what it comes down to. It comes down to the fact that she has moved on and found herself somebody so much better than him, and he has no one.

She shakes her head as if to gather her thoughts, confused about how he even found out about the wedding considering Harry quit the firm just hours after he left Malibu, leaving him with no contact to anybody that had any string tied back to her.

“Of course I had something to do with the wedding invitations! I’m the one getting married!”

She pauses then, her cold demeanor dropping into something Harry wants to say resembles a hint of relief, but it’s much more cross than that, much more serious, and he doesn’t expect what’s coming next.

“That’s what this is about, isn’t it? Me getting married?” She speaks it through a small, bitter laugh. “I should have known the only way you’d fight for me was by being with somebody else. You never could stand being second to me, as ironic as that is.”

“I could give two shits about you getting married.” He lies through clenched teeth, his stomach sick at the mere thought of it. “But I do have an issue with you inviting me to your wedding after walking out on me.”

Her head snaps back up to him.

“Wait, Harry, what are you talking about?” She frowns, trying to make sense of it. “I didn’t invite you to the wedding.”

Why would she?

They are no longer friends, no longer much of anything, so for her to take time out of her day to sabotage anything but herself wouldn’t feel right to her. Besides, it was her decision to never speak to Harry again, she wouldn’t ever take her word back.

Harry frowns then, too, because she isn’t faking her emotions. She’d always been terrible at doing so, and the way her eyes scream and beg for answers can’t go ignored. He, again, feels like the absolute worst person in the world.

“Then who did?” He whispers.

There’s only one possible answer.

-

Seven months ago.

Alfie insisted that he and Y/n had a New Year’s Eve party. They’d never had one before, as Y/n much preferred staying in with a bottle of champagne and celebrating with a lobster dinner and late night reruns of The Honeymooners.

But Alfie was persistent. Very persistent. Too persistent. So persistent she had no choice but to give in, and she just didn’t understand why.

She didn’t understand it as days passed and all Alfie talked about was the stupid party. She didn’t understand it when he rented out one of the most expensive venues. She didn’t understand it when he laid awake the entire night before, too anxious to fall asleep. She didn’t understand it when he asked her to wear his favorite dress.

She wished that she did the moment it happened.

The clock was ticking.

“Five!”

Alfie reached for Y/n’s hand.

“Four!”

Y/n noticed something shift in the air.

“Three!”

Alfie reached his other hand into his pocket.

“Two!”

Y/n knew what was coming.

“One!”

Alfie dropped to one knee.

“Happy new year!”

It was every girl’s dream — the fireworks, the balcony, the view, the prince charming that would whisk her away to spend the rest of eternity together — yet it couldn’t have felt any more like a nightmare.

It wasn’t what she wanted. Not then, not ever before, not once during the span of their relationship, and time seemed to have stopped moving forward.

There she was, in the center of the universe as everybody stopped and stared, gasping and gushing at the sight of a man on his knees for a woman. An act of vulnerability, of love, of submission, yet it didn’t feel like any of those things.

It all felt so wrong.

She began to cry.

To everyone else, it seemed as though she was crying from happiness. Her devoted boyfriend of two years finally asked for her hand in marriage, to be the mother of his children, to spend the rest of their lives tied together by a vow, unable to be broken. So it was no surprise when everybody let out an awe of endearment, nobody (not even Alfie) knowing her well enough to distinguish the difference between her happiest and saddest cries.

Harry would have known.

And that was all it seemed to come back to in that very moment in time.

Harry.

What she would have given to feel his hands on her waist, blocking her body from view with his, taking her away from all the unwanted eyes on her fragile body. He would have done it in a heartbeat because he always did — he always found a way to help her escape her horrifying realities, even the sweetest of ones.

What she would have given for it to be him kneeling in front of her… this all would have been so different.

Her lover of two years was promising her a future, yet all she could think about was somebody stuck in her past, yet so heavily prevalent in her present.

But she couldn’t say no. How could she when everybody expected the answer he was looking for, ready to toast to the bride and groom? How could she when phones captured the beginning of the rest of their lives, ready to share for all to see?

But she couldn’t say yes, either.

She settled for a nod of her head.

The crowd cheered, some clapping, others clinking their glasses, lovers kissing. She only caught a glimpse of those celebratory moments before everything around her drowned in her tears, voices of congratulations so distant beneath her heavy, hyperventilated breaths.

Alfie embraced her, then, and she felt his laughs of euphoria rumbling in his chest as hers met his, and she couldn’t even pretend.

She rested her chin on his shoulder, her expression void of everything that she should have been feeling. And her eyes went blank as they caught a reflection of her through the balcony windows — the last time she ever saw herself for what she truly was.

-

That same day.

Y/n was a mess waiting for Alfie to get home.

Seeing Harry again filled her with so many different emotions, she didn’t know which one to start with. She wanted to cry, wanted to scream, wanted to destroy everything and everybody that dared get in her way, she wanted to disappear. Yet she had done none of it. All she could manage to do was pace around her bedroom, biting at her nails and getting lost in her scrambled thoughts, her mind and body moving at a million miles an hour, unable to be tamed.

This is precisely the reason Y/n never wanted to see him again.

He does things to her, he always has. She hardly has any control over herself whenever it comes to him and she fucking hates it. No matter how sad, how mad, how hurt or how upset, there was something about his presence that made her see past all of that. It saddens her how much she used to love it.

But her moods swing at her relentlessly, the sadness turning to anger because yes, she is angry. She’s angry that he still has this much of a hold on her, especially after everything he’s done, and she’s even more angry that he hasn’t yet apologized for it.

Because it was all getting better. The constant wondering about what he’s doing or who he’s with and the continuous string of thought always leading back to him was all finally falling into its place. She was finally finding her place.

And then her fiancè did this.

When she hears the bedroom door open, she hardly gives Alfie any time before she starts a fight, wishing nothing more than to take it all out on him.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Y/n fumes, everything tainted red with anger as she looks into his eyes and feels nothing but hurt and betrayal. “Inviting Harry to our wedding behind my back?! Do you not remember what he did to me?! Do you not realize what you just did?!”

He frowns, not sarcastic or menacing, but he genuinely seems upset that she’d ever even ask him such a question.

“Y/n…” Alfie sighs, and she suddenly hates the way he’s always managed to remain calm in the most heated of arguments. She wants to start a war with it, to go for the kill, to make him crawl and beg and bleed for her forgiveness. “Of course I remember what he did to you, which is exactly why I did it.”

Her hands turn to fists.

“Are you kidding me?!”

“I wanted to hurt him for hurting you! God damn it, Y/n… after finding out what he did to you all I could think about was ripping him to pieces and that urge never left me, especially after we got together.”

He slumps himself down at the foot of the bed, loosening the tie around his neck, almost too aggressively. And if she wasn’t so out of her mind enraged, she would try her hardest to understand his side.

But there is no excuse for this. There’s no excuse for any of it.

“So now you use our marriage as a way to get back at him?!”

Y/n may not love Alfie the right way, but she had never stooped so low to treat her marriage like a weapon, ready to strike at any moment in time. It wasn’t something she used to inflict pain onto anybody else but herself, no matter how hard it had gotten.

And though she once believed their engagement meant more to him than it ever meant to her, she can’t help but feel as if that’s just another lie she’d been forced to live with.

He went behind her back deliberately to hurt somebody even she never intended on hurting. He knew what was to come of this and yet here he is, letting it all happen for satisfaction’s sake.

It feels like all she will ever be is used.

“Is that what this is to you?! A point on your scoreboard?! A big ‘fuck you, i won!’?”

“Isn’t that what this is for you?”

“Don’t you dare turn this into my problem.” She spits through clenched teeth, punching at the dresser beside her with the side of her fist, face burning with fury. “I’m not the one sending him our wedding invitations!”

“And I’m not the one staying up past midnight scrolling through pictures of him on my phone!”

Her mouth shuts then, her hard and pressed features softening at the unexpected turn of the conversation.

She had been looking at pictures of Harry almost every night since Malibu, she just never expected to get caught. She could physically feel Alfie fall asleep against her, so she always waited thirty minutes before she took her phone out, looking back at everything that once was.

It was the only thing she ever truly wanted.

It’s what she kept going back to — a habit that came as naturally as telling her best friend about her day, about her perspectives on the world, about the lack of guidance in her life — like a phone call at the end of the day as a way to unwind.

She had make believe conversations with him as she scrolled endlessly through her favorite photo album, the thickness of his accent engrained in her mind as she thought of everything he’d say to her if he were still around. And if that wasn’t enough, she’d live vicariously through the memories they made together and replay those moments all night, until they lulled her to sleep.

“I told you from day one that —”

“That you’re never going to let him go, I know. I know that he was the love of your life at one point but this is just pathetic now, Y/n. Absolutely nothing short of pathetic.” She frowns, his choice of words making her heart sink because he knows exactly how to do it. And he sighs, rubbing his hands up and down his face as if he were in agony. “I didn’t know this was the kind of shit I was signing up for.”

Her eyes brim with tears but don’t offer anything more, only upset that he couldn’t find a way to understand her when she’s trying so hard. But he never has and he never will — not in the way she needs him to and not in the way that could ever make this work.

“I’m not sorry for what I did.” She confesses sadly, her bottom lip between her teeth and fingers picking the skin around her nails as she tries, yet again, to make him see. “He was my best friend before he was anything else to me. There was a time in my life where he was all I had.”

And though her heart is still with Harry in every aspect of every way, it’s true. He was her best friend and that’s what she misses the most. There was so much to him that meant so much to her and none of it could ever be replaced, not even by Alfie.

“You know I love you but you also know I'm not the same woman you fell for in Malibu. I’m my worst self when I don't have him around and your favorite parts of me don’t exist without him. Don’t pretend like you don’t see that.”

His hands twitch against his lap, his shoulders slumping because it’s true. The most lively and brightest parts of herself had died the first step she’d taken away from him that night. Sure, she’s still the most resilient and beautiful woman Alfie had ever known, but she’s never been the same since then.

She’s still in love with him and there’s nothing for him to do about it. He didn’t see it until he saw the way she sulked over Harry that night, all those years later, with a diamond ring on her finger that just seemed to weigh her down even more.

None of this means anything to her.

“It’s been three years, Y/n. Just find yourself a new best friend and move the fuck on already. I’m getting sick and tired of this.”

What he doesn’t understand is that she is, too.

-

Two weeks later.

Y/n shouldn’t be this alone at her own engagement party, but it’s the impossible things that always manage to find their way to her.

The party consisted mostly of Alfie’s friends, considering Y/n is much more of an introvert than he is and the small number of friends she does have seemed to have disappeared within the sea of unfamiliar faces. She felt lost for a moment, but when she finally found her fiancè, he had been too invested in his own friends to spare her a single one of his glances, and it soon became disheartening to wait for him to acknowledge her when the thought of her never once crossed his mind.

So she ends up on the steps of their back porch, sipping on a glass of champagne, overlooking the garden, breathing in the silence.

She closes her eyes and succumbs herself to the summer breeze, wondering what she has to do to find a single glimmer of happiness. Her life is just so sad, a labyrinth of betrayal and hurt and heartbreak she can’t ever escape.

Darkness is all she sees when she thinks about her future. There is nothing for her to look forward to. Every day will come and go the same way it has been — unwanted, dreaded, wasted, another failed attempt of contentment. It all seems so hopeless to her now.

The champagne doesn’t stand a chance when it comes to a lonely Y/n, and it isn’t nearly enough to curb her mood, either as she huffs at her empty glass, wishing she had taken another.

She sets it down next to her, placing both her elbows on her knees, getting lost in her world of sorrow, long forgotten by her lover.

Harry is the first one to find her.

He had parked his car across the street from her shared home with Alfie, and even from his distance he knew Y/n wouldn’t be inside. He knows her too well to know she wouldn’t find her place in crowded rooms where the attention is all on her, even if it was all in the comfort of her own home.

And the fact that Alfie didn’t know her senses of belonging well enough to accommodate them made him seeth. She is an independent, a lone wolf, a woman who moves solely in her own way and anybody who’s ever loved her knows that above all else.

He doesn’t care for her.

And he doesn’t need to go looking for her because he can feel her, as if the universe somehow bent its laws of gravity and pushed him straight to her back porch steps, where he finds her all alone.

She nearly jumps out of her skin when she feels a hand fall softly on her shoulder, but immediately sinks into comfort when she sees that it’s Harry moving to sit beside her, his hand refusing to pull away.

Finally, she has a friend.

“Hey.” She says softly, one of the corners of her lips turning slightly upward at his unexpected visit. “I didn’t think you’d come.”

He smiles briefly at her before he overlooks the garden, his fingers squeezing at her shoulder before resting his palms over his lap. And there’s something about being next to her again that makes everything around him fall back into place. This is where he’s meant to be.

“Honestly, neither did I, all things considered.” They both let out a chuckle, the atmosphere between them so horrifically sad yet so incredibly right. “But I just really felt like I had to be here for you tonight.”

Despite the years that had passed and everything that drove them apart, Y/n remains who he loves most in this world. His connection to her never died, so the sudden gusts of off and disturbing feelings Harry used to get whenever Y/n was troubled had never left him. He felt it all just as strongly — her anxieties, her fears, her tears and everything in between. And he’s glad that part of them never died because the look in her eye tells him everything he needs to know.

She’s absolutely miserable.

She sighs, the corners of her lips falling as she stares at her engagement ring, her thumb and pinky twisting it around her ring finger, itchy and heavy no matter which way it's worn.

“Me and Alfie aren’t doing so well.”

She didn’t have to say it because he can already see how treacherous they are together, but that doesn’t make it any easier for him to hear.

He lost his right to be selfish with her in Malibu, and though he does gain a sense of happiness knowing he may have a chance with her again, it’s significantly outweighed by her sadness. Nothing had ever pained him more than that.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

She shakes her head, her fingers reaching up to tuck fallen pieces of hair behind her ear.

“Don’t be. I don’t really know why he decided to do this, anyways.”

Harry’s lips fall.

“Marry you?”

Y/n’s leg begins to shake, her greatest and most absentminded nervous habit. And Harry had always been quick to place his hand over her thigh and rub at the surface, meeting her eye halfway and taking a deep breath in, to which she would always follow. He hesitates to do so tonight, but settles for it anyway.

She looks appreciative beneath it all.

She’d forgotten about Harry’s subtle favors over the past three years, so to feel it all again when she has been so low and neglected feels like a blessing to her. It feels like somebody finally cares for her, and that’s all she had been wanting all along.

Harry, she feels, is the only one who ever truly has.

“We just never talked about it. It was this big, ginormous, unavoidable, life changing question thrown at me with no warning at all.” Her forehead falls to her palms, as if humiliated by the memory. “In front of everybody.”

Harry’s heart crumbles from within him because nothing Alfie has given her has been anything she’s wanted, and that’s not what she deserves.

He remembers it so distinctively now — the way she poured her heart out to him just a few months before Malibu. It was the third Valentine’s Day they’d spent together and Y/n got so drunk, she spent nearly the entire night venting to him about everything she’d feared when it came to her future relationships.

With her head on his shoulder and her leg slung over his hips, Y/n’s thoughts were so destructive, she couldn’t bear to entertain them any longer, so she decided to let it all out.

“And what if my boyfriend proposes to me in a room full of people? I’d drown in sensory overload. And what if I want to say no? Or maybe? Or yes, just not right now? With all those people looking at me? I think I would pass away.”

Harry looked down at her in subtle curiosity, his fingers playing with her hair in the way they always liked. She was the only thing in his sight that wasn’t spinning out of his control.

“So how do you want to be proposed to?”

She hummed, as if contemplating her answer. But she knew. She already knew.

“In bed, probably. It’s so intimate and private there. So non-traditional. You’re the most done down at your first hour and something about someone wanting you at your worst, forever, is so poetic.”

She looked up at him with doe eyes merely seconds after.

“Will you make sure he does that for me, please? Promise me you’ll try.”

He smiled the best he could at her, pressing his lips down to her forehead. They lingered there for a moment, and Y/n’s breath was taken away.

“I’ll make sure of it.”

What makes the memory even worse was how much he really did love her and how blinded he was to it. He kissed her. He held her. He played with her hair. He slept beside her that night. He kissed her again goodnight. He brought her breakfast in bed the next morning. He did it all over again.

It couldn’t have been any more obvious.

But there’s something about the way she hasn’t expressed any of those concerns with Alfie that doesn’t sit right with him. It just doesn’t make any sense to him.

“Been with him for how long now, two years? And you really didn’t expect him to propose to you? Have you met you?”

She sulks herself deeper into her knees.

“I don’t know. I guess — I guess I just never really thought about it.”

Never thought about it?

“But you’ve always wanted to get married.” He says it more like a question than a statement, genuine concern and confusion in his tone of voice as his eyebrows furrow, trying to comprehend it.

She looks up at him with a void, empty expression.

“Yeah, but never to him.”

Her eyes linger on Harry’s for just a beat longer — just long enough to catch a glimpse of the way his lips fall and the way his face drains of color — before she blinks away from him, turning her gaze back toward the garden. The flowers have never looked so lifeless.

“Y/n… if I had known how you felt, I —”

“It wouldn’t have mattered.” Y/n shakes her head, looking back down at her trembling hands, tears now burning in her eyes as the sudden sadness of the conversation starts to weigh down on her. “You had four years to feel the same for me and you never did. My feelings would have done nothing to yours.”

“And I never did?” Harry asks incredulously, his voice low and faltered behind the heaviness of her words. “Is that really what you’ve been living with the past three years?”

Loose tears begin to fall down her cheeks because yes, she has been living with his unrequited love for six years and no, it’s never gotten any easier. It’s pathetic and ridiculous and the most unexplainable form of grief she’d ever carried, but it’s the most devastating kind. “How could I think any differently?”

“Because it was real, Y/n. Fuck.” He lets out a strangled, dry chuckle upon his words as he runs his shaking fingers through his hair. He’s nervous, absolutely terrified because if he fails to show her how deeply he feels for her now, he may never get the chance to again, and losing her is no longer an option for him. Not when she’s so close. “Because you know me better than anybody else and you know I wasn’t faking it with you. How could I have been? You would have seen right through me and you know it. You always do.”

Perhaps the love blinded her. Perhaps her heart was so invested it deceived her to see only the things she wanted as a subconscious form of self-preservation. It’s not an impossible possibility, and it’s certainly one she believed in throughout all this time, but a part of her can’t help but find a hint of truth stuck somewhere between his words.

The kissing, the touching, the tasting, the laughing and the loving did feel real to her. It felt real when she saw the way he smiled after every one of their kisses, and the way he reached for her when it was just to two of them, like he couldn’t get enough, and the way he moaned against her, and the way he told her he loved her, like he meant it.

She knows all of his movements and all of his habits — knows all the signs of his stress, his sadness, his tension, his ease. She knows the emotions he wears and the ones he doesn’t, notices everything he does and doesn’t do, and never once did anything he did with her seem anything less than genuine.

She hates that it’s taken her so long to see that, but it doesn’t fix all that he had broken now that she does. She wishes that it could, this life would be so much easier for her to live.

“You really hurt me.” Her voice quivers, low and quiet as she speaks her truth, and it breaks his heart all over again. Never has he heard her sound so sad in his life, and it’s all because of him.

“You think I don’t know that? I hate myself for everything I put you through because you didn’t deserve it. You didn’t deserve any of it.”

He pauses, waiting for her to say anything else, but it doesn’t come. All there is for her to offer are her silent cries and waterfall eyes.

“That night with Lydia… nothing happened. She caught me off guard and I panicked because how could I not? She was giving me everything I thought I wanted yet all I could think about was how I wanted it to be you.” Y/n’s breath falters then, a knot forming in her chest as she revisits the sight of that horrific night. “I tried so hard to talk it out with her, but she wouldn’t let it go. She kept persisting and persisting and she didn’t give me the chance to explain myself before you walked in on us.”

She didn’t truly know what happened between him and Lydia, but she had her ideas. Whether they kissed, touched, confessed their love or crossed bases, the truth would have only made it worse for herself. Ignorance was bliss when it came to them.

But she didn’t think nothing happened, either, especially when the first words that Y/n heard Lydia say to him that night was I love you, too.

Too.

Too.

Too.

Like he said it first.

She really hopes he didn’t, but she’s so afraid of his answer that she doesn’t ask.

But she doesn’t say anything else, either, because there’s so much more she needs to hear from him but she doesn’t know where to start. She doesn’t know what to do, yet she wants to know everything.

“You were all I ever wanted and I’m so sorry for the way I had to find that out. I’m so sorry that I had to hurt you to realize how ridiculously in love I am with you.”

And how ridiculous it’s gotten.

“It haunts me. It follows me everywhere I go. Every morning, I think about the way you slept beside me in Malibu and how perfect you looked before you even had the chance to wake. I still reach for you even when I know you’re not there just so I can say I tried. Every time I walk the street, I somehow convince myself that I see you walk past me and I always turn back just in case I missed you. Then I spend the rest of my day wondering where you are and how much happier I’d be if you were with me.”

And it’s all so true.

She is around him at all times. Her spirit lingers in the air he breathes, her shadow alive in every ray of sun that touches his skin, unable to be soaked away. The ghost of her is everywhere he is, always, and it pained him just as much as it comforted him.

“I come across all these women and go on all these dates in hopes to find someone that makes me feel half the things you do, just to go home hours later and watch all the stupid videos and photos I’ve taken of you throughout the years because it’s you that my heart is after. Nobody else.”

She melts into herself at his confession.

To know it wasn’t one-sided — the longing, the missing, the wanting so bad that he couldn’t help but look back at all their memories together. Whether he was beside those women or not, she had done the very same thing, and it’s almost as if those hidden moments of desperation were a silent call to one another.

He reaches his hand to her thigh again, his skin warming her to her bitter core, setting a fire in her that had burnt out many years ago. And she doesn’t stop staring at it.

“I love you, Y/n. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anything else in this world. I love you so much that it drove me crazy to think about you spending the rest of your life with somebody else because I couldn’t imagine spending the rest of mine without you. But that’s my heartbreak to live with, not yours.”

But it is. It is because he’s the only one she’s ever wanted and living her life with someone else was once unimaginable. It still is. Even through her relationship with Alfie and everything they’ve built together, it wasn’t ever the same.

And it’s not a matter of her not loving him, because she does, just not in the way she loves Harry. He is a high she constantly fiends for, an intoxication that keeps her wild and free, an addiction like no other. Being without him makes her feel sober — in a constant state of withdrawal, falling down deeper into her urges, dependent solely on her relapses — and Alfie is just the mild distraction.

All of this is her heartbreak.

His fingertips rub softly at her leg.

“You’re the best person I’ve ever known. I don't know how I’m ever going to find a way to move on from you, and I don’t know if I ever will, but at least I had the chance to tell you everything you deserved to know. I didn’t think I’d ever have it.”

She still doesn’t answer him, but he didn’t expect anything more.

He wishes he could stay with her for just a bit longer, but he doesn’t want to overstay his welcome (if he could even call it that). And he starts to cry as he thinks about leaving her alone again.

She’s forever going to be his hardest loss.

“I have so much more I want to say to you, but this is your night with Alfie. I don’t want to be the one to hold you back from it.”

He squeezes the top of her thigh, dreading the let go. This may be the last time he sees her or speaks to her for a while, and that in itself is enough to make this so much harder on him.

“I’ll miss you everyday.”

He can’t even look at her as he says it.

His eyes are flooded with sadness as he stands from where he sat beside her, shaking fingers wiping at his tears, his heart the emptiest it’s ever been yet his chest heavier than ever before.

It suddenly dawns on her that she never wants to see him walk away from her again. She doesn’t want to go another dreaded day without him beside her, or go the rest of the night thinking of everything she could have said, but didn’t.

She wants him. She loves him. And she doesn’t want him to go.

“Wait.” She grabs his hand in both of hers before he can make it too far, her eyes wet but the brightest he’d ever seen them. “The party doesn’t end for a while and — and Alfie hasn’t come looking for me since it started, so…” She hesitates, his hands still in hers, and everything is right in the world again. “Do you want to take a walk with me? It doesn’t matter where just, please stay here with me?”

And how could Harry ever say no to her?

He lifts her up from where she sits, the first real and genuine smile he’s seen out of her since they’ve reunited spreading on her lips, and he wouldn’t trade this for the world.

They stray further than expected, catching up on everything they’ve missed throughout the years. It all feels so easy and so right, as if time had hardly passed between them, yet they’ve never felt more apart. Never once did they expect to live in each other’s world through late night storytelling and clandestine getaways.

They laugh. They cry. They reminisce. And they don’t let go of each other’s hand the whole night through.

-

Y/n returns to the back porch a couple hours later, grabbing the finished champagne glass she’d left on the top step to seem as inconspicuous as possible. Not that she necessarily has to, she doesn’t feel as though she’s done anything wrong, she just couldn’t imagine what would come from this if Alfie was to find out.

She slides the back door shut quietly behind her, the remaining guests only giving her a small smile of acknowledgement, none at all suspicious. Some offer her hugs and mingle with her, congratulating her as if it were their first time doing so, telling her how perfect of a marriage she and Alfie are going to have.

If only they knew.

But it isn’t until the last of the lingering guests make it out the door that Y/n and Alfie are left alone — the most dangerous place for them to be. And neither of them speak a word to each other, just meeting eyes for a brief moment in time, as if avoiding everything else that came with the night.

The air is heavy, the chill brutal, but it’s what Y/n is so used to. This is her normalcy.

“I’m glad you had fun tonight.” Y/n says plainly, gathering all the littered champagne and wine glasses floating around the kitchen.

In any other circumstance, she would have stood her ground much more strongly, but the bitterness inside her subsided to something much sweeter after her time with Harry. The weight of the world is gone, it seems, the moon and sun and stars aligned perfectly in her universe. She is weightless, floating, her spirit dancing along the edges of her own personal heaven.

The silence Alfie responds with doesn’t strike a nerve like it usually would. It rather goes unnoticed, only furthering her into her illicit dreamland.

Harry’s touch lingers on her skin and she can feel it all the same even though he’s gone. A shiver runs down her spine as she thinks back to the way his lips pressed against her cheek before parting ways, muttering the quietest goodnight, lovie against her skin, leaving her breathless.

She is endlessly hypnotized by him, forever under his spell, as if his lips were made of magic.

And Alfie’s heart sinks when he sees the look on her face. It’s been years since he’s seen it, yet it’s all so familiar once he does. It’s the same look he fell in love with when he first met her in Malibu.

It’s all so clear to him now.

“So we’re just going to pretend that you didn’t leave our engagement party with Harry?”

Y/n lifts her head to look at him properly for what seems to be the first time tonight, his question catching her off guard since she had so rightfully assumed he wasn’t concerned about her whereabouts, and Harry didn’t make his presence known to anybody but her.

But she doesn’t fight it, doesn’t deny it, doesn’t try to scrape for excuses that’ll only dig her in deeper because she doesn’t regret what she did or why she did it. She has no reason to.

“And we’re just going to pretend that you didn’t completely exclude me from our engagement party?”

Alfie’s hands slam against the kitchen counter, a bitter and sarcastic laugh falling from his lips, as if she had said something untrue. “So I don’t give you attention for two minutes and you decide to run off with some other guy?”

“Two minutes? Try two hours on a night that was supposed to be for us.” It’s her turn to slam her hands down, except hers land on her thighs. “I was sitting on our back porch all night and nobody, not even you, came looking for me.” She sits down on the island stool with burnt-out eyes and heavy shoulders, drained from the reality of their relationship, tired of trying for somebody that’s never held her heart the right way. “Harry was miles away and even he found a way to find me.”

And just like always, it all circles back to Harry.

She’s never been one to compare — verbally, at least — so there is a gloom that hovers over her after she says it, the guilt settling in her bones, but it’s the reality of their situation. An old lover held his hand out to her while Alfie refused hers, and it ended up exactly where it had always belonged.

“All you had to do was ask me to be with you.” He sighs, depleted, because it’s true. He would have been there the second she called his name. It’s the fact that she didn’t that shows him how incompatible he is with her wants.

“I shouldn’t have to.” She frowns, fingers fiddling with the skin around her nails as she contemplates what there is to say next. “Is that how this marriage is going to work? Me begging you to be there for me all the time? Because I’ve never been that kind of person. I will never be that person.”

Alfie breathes heavily in response but doesn’t know what else to do or say to get her to stay. She’s slipping right through his fingers and he can physically feel it — can feel the way she feels for another man, can see the way her eyes refuse him, as if hiding away from something.

But this isn’t about him, it can’t be because it was all going so well, so much better than ever before and nothing ever pushed her away, until Harry.

This is all him.

“You know he doesn’t love you, right?” Alfie breaks the silence, her heart along with it, because she needs to be reminded how badly he had done her wrong. She wouldn’t be turning him into the villain if she did. “He lied to you. He used you to get what he wanted. He —”

“He does love me.” She interrupts him because she doesn’t want to hear it. She doesn’t want him to talk her out of this, no matter how much she should. But it’s on the tip of her tongue, almost breaking from its resistance, and she can’t swallow it back down now. “He was there for me more than you were tonight and he’s not even the one I’m engaged to.”

Another deafening silence.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

He understood her, loud and clear, but she’s speaking between the lines. There’s a part of her that’s holding back from something and he already knows what it is, he just needs to hear her say it.

So she does.

“I’m in love with him, Alfie.”

If the confession of her disloyalty wasn’t enough to tear her apart, the choked back sob she heard from Alfie undeniably did so.

She shuts her eyes, pained, unable to take it.

He doesn’t deserve this, but she’s left with no choice. She’ll only hurt him more if she stays.

So she doesn’t.

-

The morning after.

Harry didn’t know what was to come after he confessed his love to Y/n — whether it be a new day of a new life away from her, or the beginning of something so beautifully timeless, he had no idea.

The closure warmed him enough to lull him to sleep, to keep him deep in a dreamstate where all he envisioned was sunny days and the touch of her hand in his. He had never felt so light, so free, so liberated from the cage of guilt and unspoken truths that even if he were to never see or hear from Y/n again, it would have been okay.

He said what he needed to say, she heard what she wanted to hear and that’s all he could have done without interfering with her relationship.

But what he wakes up to is far from anything that ever crossed his mind.

Seven missed calls and five text messages. All from Y/n.

H, please tell me you’re awake. I need you.

I ended it with Alfie.

I don’t have anywhere to go and you’re the only person I want to see right now. Can you meet me at the coffee shop? I really need to talk to you.

Please wake up.

H?

Harry sits himself up in a state of panic, his eyes jumping between the time she had messaged him last and the time it is now. And he springs himself out of bed when he realizes that he hasn’t missed out on her yet, planning to get to her as fast as he can as he throws yesterday’s outfit, not at all caring about how it makes him look.

She ended it with Alfie.

He’s the only person she wants to see right now.

She needs him.

That’s all he can process as he scurries down the street, thinking of everything he has left to tell her to try and win her heart again. He knows he’s undeserving of it, and she does too, but that doesn’t stop him from loving her the way that he does.

His life is meaningless without her, so dry and bleak and depressing he can’t live another day like it. He can’t and he won’t because he’s going to fix this. He has to fix this.

And it doesn’t take him long to find her because there she is, sitting at their usual outdoor table, a large hot tea held between her hands, her leg shaking, her eyes distant. It's such a heartbreaking sight, and he suddenly wonders if she ever sat there after their breakup, waiting for him, hoping he’d do the very same.

The thought makes his head twitch to the side and fingers twist with guilt because no, he never did. He never went back to that coffee shop since the goodbye. It would have hurt too much, it would have reminded him of everything he’d ever done wrong and he couldn’t bear to face the person he once made of himself.

That person died along with her.

She stands from her seat when she sees him walking toward her, exhausted mentally and physically enough to nearly fall from her feet in the process. But her heart is racing a million miles an hour, her stomach fluttering as he grows nearer, her senses of anything but the love she has for him disappearing to nothing, as if it were just the two of them.

And she just needs to know if it feels that way for him, too.

“Y/n —”

“Did you mean it?”

Harry hesitates then, stopping in his tracks, his head tilting at her in curiosity but his features are softer, sadder, as if the question somehow broke him down further than before.

She doesn’t need to elaborate because he already understands what she’s asking. It was his mistakes and his selfishness that led her to question all his intentions, to doubt every sentiment he’s ever given to her, to wonder what was real and what was pretend.

But he doesn’t know what to start with, he doesn’t know what she needs to hear from him to be satisfied with his answer, or know if what he doesn’t say is what breaks this relationship.

“I need you to look at me and tell me that you meant it.” Y/n demands when he fails to answer her, tears flooding yet her face pressed and hard, committed to hearing every last bit of truth he has left. “Because I gave up everything I had for just the smallest possibility that you did. And that may make me weak, that may make me pathetic, and I may hate myself for the rest of my life knowing I made that decision but I can’t help feeling the way I feel for you.”

This is his last chance.

The window of opportunity is open and he is more than willing to dive head first out of it, but he can’t get ahead of himself. One wrong move, one wrong word, one wrong anything and he will have to endure an eternity of misery without her.

So he gives her more than she demands.

He grabs her face between his two hands, gently stroking her cheeks with the pads of his thumbs, his gaze set on hers so that she can see how deeply he feels for her and how desperate he is for her forgiveness.

“I meant it.” He breathes out, his lips so painfully close to hers, she can feel his breath as he talks and it makes her legs shake from beneath her. “I’m in love with you. You’re all I think about. You’re all I want.” He leans in closer, ever so slightly, just so the ghost of her lips can meet the ghost of his. “There’s never been anybody but you. Just you. Only you.”

Her breath stammers, quivering and cracking as she flutters her eyes shut at his words, unforgiving tears pouring down her cheeks. And she doesn’t know why she’s reacting this way — the love of her life is giving her everything she’s ever asked for and yet all she can manage to do is break down from everything she’d been keeping inside for so long.

He knees buckle as a particularly violent sob nearly takes her down, and if it wasn’t for Harry’s strong hold on her, she’s sure she would have collapsed to the floor.

Her tears, his shirt, his hands, her back.

This is the closest they’ve been to each other in so long, his heart nearly shatters along with hers. He missed this more than he missed anything else in this world.

“Don’t cry, baby. It’s alright. You’re alright.” Harry shushes her, his lips settling on the top of her head as he presses chaste kisses on it, his fingers combing through her unbrushed hair. “I’m with you, okay? I’m never leaving you again.”

And he holds her for a while, tying her together as she falls apart in his arms, vowing to her over and over again that this is all over. All the pain is over. Everything will be different now.

And it was.

It felt different when Y/n and Harry spent the rest of the morning sitting in their favorite coffee shop, at their favorite table, drinking their favorite lattes. It felt different when Harry reached his hand over to hold hers, this time with no ulterior motive.

It felt different when she held his hand back, and when she smiled down at where they were intertwined, as if they were an extension of each other.

And unlike the last time they were there together, he doesn’t have to let go.

[syllvane]

forget me nots - zoya nazyalensky x reader

a/n: implied zoya x reader x nikolai, did not mean to take that long of a break, idk if this is a return to writing, but it’s something!

Zoya’s garden never seems to stop growing in size and in variety- that’s what happens when everyone around you grows old and dies and you remain the exact same.

The first fifty years, the first couple of losses, she is positive that she will drown in her grief, that there will be a time where it destroys her completely.

Alina dies first.

The funeral is attended by royals, by the only people who knew the truth of her identity, and by all the children that she helped raise. She is not praised for her bravery, for her deeds as Sun Summoner, but for her kindness.

She is not remembered as Sankta Alina, but as a motherly figure.

Zoya plants white larkspur for Alina.

Mal follows her soon after.

This is not unexpected- nobody has ever been able to keep them apart for long.

Although she didn't know him well, Zoya plants sunflowers for him.

Nikolai dies a few years later.

Alina’s death hurt, but Zoya knew that she could recover from it.

With Nikolai, it feels as if her heart itself has been torn out of her chest and is being buried alongside him, like she is losing some essential part of herself with him.

He dies and she withers because that’s all she can do in the face of it.

She can’t even pick out a flower for him, not until ten years pass and she has managed to stitch herself back together with your help.

She helps you pick up your broken pieces as well, because as much as it may feel like it, this is not just her loss. It is both of yours.

She plants a whole other garden for him, as if one flower or plant could encapsulate the whole of his personality and the permanence of the loss that you and her were faced with.

It’s after his death that she swears off attachment, that she participates in the world as a spectator and a warrior rather than a friend or advisor.

She swears off almost everyone, except you.

You are still alive and unlike everything else in the world, you are relatively unchanged.

You show very little signs of aging physically, but Zoya knows better, knows that your memories are fading, that Genya, once one of your closest friends, is little more than a historical figure now.

There are brief moments in which you remember her clearly or remember something about David or Alina or Sergei, but you don’t remember them fully. You read the journal entries you wrote about them, the entries you wrote once you realized that your memories were much more fallible than Zoya’s, but your once friends have become little more than that.

Words on a page.

“You brought the whole bottle?” Zoya asked, looking at you with amusement.

She does her best to hide her panic, wondering what you have started forgetting this time.

It’s no use though, trying to hide her panic. For every memory you have forgotten, you have made one in memorizing Zoya, so that you would never forget her.

You would hear the panic in her voice whether she was the best liar in the world or not.

You held the bottle of kvas out, the dark liquid sloshing in the glass bottle.

“How else will I forget the things I can’t remember?” You asked, your voice lighthearted.

Zoya knows better though, has spent years listening to your voice, memorizing the little intricacies of your voice.

Behind the facade, there is bitterness.

Neither of you have aged in a hundred years, but Zoya’s memory has stayed sharp and focused. Yours hasn’t.

Zoya shifted slightly, taking the bottle of kvas from you and unscrewing the cap.

“What was it today?” She asked, passing you the bottle.

“Nik," You said, his name bitter on your mouth. You took a swig of the bottle. "It’s like how it was with the others.”

Zoya snatched the bottle back from you and took a longer swig.

“You can’t forget him," She said after a while, the tiniest sliver of desperation in her voice. "I can’t be the only one who remembers how annoying he is. Was.”

Her mistake sits in between the two of you, because that’s how it is for Zoya.

She remembers everything as if it was yesterday. She remembers Nikolai’s funeral as if she had just attended it, but she also remembers him alive, joking around and being a nuisance.

Those are the worst nights- the ones where she forgets for a moment that he’s dead and all she wants to do is share a joke with him or tell him something that you did.

It doesn’t happen as often anymore.

“It’s just the little things right now,” You said and you both are incredibly aware of the last two words of the sentence. “What his laugh sounded like. The particulars of his smile.”

Both of you know that these are not little things.

Zoya hands you the bottle.

You take a drink.

“I remember what it was like to be loved by him. How he would make you feel like you were the greatest thing in the world. Being loved by him was the second best thing to ever happen to me.”

“And the first?” Zoya asked, snatching the bottle back from you.

“Being loved by you.”

She rolled her eyes.

Time had done nothing to make her sentimental or sappy, but it had done the opposite to you and the little that you could remember.

“I don’t think you remember how it felt to be loved by him then.”

“I do,” You said quietly, solemnly. “I do.”

Zoya didn’t argue with you again.

“Saints, I miss him so much. And I’m going to forget him. And there’s going to be a point where all that’s left of my memory of him is this grief and then I won’t even have that.”

Neither of you cry often- after you’ve lived 100 years more than you should’ve, you don’t find as many reasons to cry.

And yet, there are tears running down your face and Zoya hugs you, if only to hide her own tears from you.

“I’ll remember, I’ll remember for the both of us,” Zoya promised, her voice breaking.

The two of you cry harder, the bottle of kvas forgotten at this point.

Long after Zoya has gone asleep, you walk to Nikolai’s garden, admiring all the beautiful plants and flowers.

There must be fifty different varieties in the garden, but it’s not enough.

It’s never enough and so, for the first time since he died, you add your own flower to his garden, though it’s more of a wish than anything else.

Tucked in between the roses and the jasmine, Zoya finds a new flower in the garden that she tends every day.

[muffindaddystyles]

Will mafia!h and Y/N will have babies? 🥺💓

IM SO SORRY TO TELL YOU THIS BESTIE BUT.... </3

39. " I'm not saying a goodbye."

It was raining. Skies a gloomy shade of cinereal. Harry’s sleek car came to a screeching halt infront of the vast threshold of his home -- his grin pearlish, eyes twinkling a spark as he gets out of the car not caring to close the door behind. He greets his staff and strides two steps together with a gorgeous bunch of his lovie’s favourite flowers now dewy with raindrops and his nose twitched upon sniffing the vanilla-y smell while passing the kitchen and with his beam never vanishing he leaned into the doorframe asking the people inside, “’Ave y'seen Y/N?” Only for them to shake their heads in uncertainty.

She hasn’t showed herself downstairs since morning and even though it’s very odd of her not to chirp around the mansion nobody went to knock at her door to inquire, they think she deserves privacy.

This time they should have because when Harry barged inside their room it was caliginous with curtains shut and lights dimmed to zero.

“Lovie?” His cheery voice clamoured against the walls, a sour feeling he couldn’t be aware of pinches him in throat as he bobbed his head around to look for her and it perked up when a shadow falls on his feet.

“Baby?” His smile quirked back onto his confused features and he narrowed his eyelids to take in her presence through the darkness of wardrobe, “Harry.” A shaky whisper floated towards him and before that sweet call she was falling against his chest.

“Y/N ... baby —-,” His stumped chuckle halted, his brain numbed for a moment when his fingertips brushed up her back to push her closer to him and they trembled as they collected the wetness there. His heart bleaks a stinging pain into it’s cords, his breath shuddered coldly, flowers falling sadly beside their feet and his eyes earths with tears of panic, angst and torment.

His fingertips coating in his love's thick blood.

“I –- ‘m .. you –.. you’re h-hu —- hurt,” He stammered through a whimper hand wrapping around the dagger whose half end’s stabbed into Y/N's spine, her weak frail body unresponsive though she could listen to him.

“Who did this to you! Who did this to you!?” His screams and cries startled everyone downstairs and they rushed up to see what’s happening, to be shocked by their sights of Y/N limp in Harry’s embrace.

He turned his neck to shout at them, “I need a hand t’help me!!” His eyes bloodshot and Niall his best-man scurried over to them as Harry carried Y/N and laid her on her tummy on the bed, he slips onto his knees putting his chin on the mattress to look in her hazy painful eyes -- tears caged in them but never flowing down.

“Harry ...” She mumbled grittily in agony lifting her shaky fingers to pet his face and like an affection starved kitten Harry doesn’t let her tire herself and gets closer to her himself, “Niall bring the first aid, it’s under the sink.” He commands him not letting his eyes drift from over her angelic face.

“You’re okay baby. You’re okay, I know how to stitch up knife wounds.” He sniffled sucking in a breath trying to be brave for her and she just smiled gorgeously, lips blue and cheeks draining out of her usual berry stain.

“Jesus. Harry she’s been stabbed thrice, those fuckers,” Niall’s words wavered in fear and sympathy for Y/N. He squeezed Harry’s shoulder as Harry sobbed upon hearing that, “No –-... no, no! It’s still okay yeah poppet? I’m g’na get y'alright.” He wanted to covers his eyes to block the hurting groans Y/N elicited and he cradled her soft face in his warm palms in comparison to her temperature, touching their temples to pray together.

“Harry li .. listen to —- to me,” She gasps eyes flittering over his shoulder towards Bambi and Thumper the two dogs that had gotten overly fond of her, Harry’s blurry gaze follows her enfeebled gesture for them to come near her.

They whined and howled sadly flopping beside Harry and Harry hiccupped into his elbow shaking his head when Y/N put her hand under their ears in effort to scratch them but wasn’t able to unfortunately, “Hi babies. You’re gonna look after dad after ‘m gone?” Everyone cried at that watching her soul leave their dull lives that watered colourful upon her arrival.

“Don’t say that! Don’t y'dare say that!” Harry sobbed rushing to hug her tightly, the front of his shirt loathing crimson and she hissed looping her arm against his neck when Niall pulled the dagger out from her lower spine gradually and slowly not to hurt her.

“’M so sorry baby, sorry for being the reason of y’pain.” His tears dampened her already sweaty crook of neck, “Pr – promise me t-that that you’ll have some —.. someone who lov‐-.. loves –--,” She whimpered. Her body jerked into him with a force and she pushed him weakly away to stitch her lips tenderly against his's.

“Tell me bubby. Ha—- have I loved y'enough?” She cooed into their kiss and Harry bolted his eyes shut, poisonous sobs wrecking out of his chest.

“Tell me before, I go ...” Her heartbeat started dropping insanely, her lips wobbled, toes curling with life excavating out of her, “Y'have. Y'have don’t go baby, I’m not saying a goodbye!” He cried showering her in kisses for the one last time and pets her hair, eyes closed praying she takes him with herself because he'd never recover from the pain of loosing the only person he loved more than himself, the person who made hum love himself.

“I love you ..” She whispered, her loving kind eyes locked against his’s and the pool of honey around her rims expanded, her lips parted around the gasping breaths and Harry begged and pleaded — a side of him no-one has ever witnessed as he twisted in anguish considering himself the unluckiest man on the earth for letting his lover go like this, in the worst possible way.

“I love you, I thought I’d never be capable of, y'made me worthy darling. I'll always love you baby....” He shrieked into her chest heaving her up gently to embrace her properly and even though he knew she was no more with him, he fooled himself into thinking so.

If it was possible he’d have clawed his ribs to pluck out his heart in return of hers and he felt like the sun and earth had crashed vanishing away the time spaces as he sat there crying and crying mourning the loss of his lovie that could never be healed by anything in this whole word.

He keeps on holding her, rocking back and forth as he lulls her to slumber of death.

It hurts. It hurts so bad.

His heart weeps.

His soul aches.

When rain stopped and that tranquil silence doomed over them, rage filled his every pore and vein.

He knew who did this. Harry has played dirty but he has never played unfair. It was this gang of companies who sabotaged and destructed the orphanages at the property which belonged to his mother (but the papers weren’t clear) to build restaurants and apartments there so Harry took revenge by burning acres of their illegal drug running underground factory and rebuilt the orphanages and took Y/N to one of their charity events.

She was the happiest he had ever seen her.

It’s like a gun barrel clicked in. A firecracker catching the fuse of ashe to burst everything into flames as Harry laid her with ever most tenderness and kissed her temple, her lifeless eyelids and her chapped lips.

Cleaned the streak of blood with his sleeve and didn’t wipe his tears away bashing out of the room, everyone stepped away as Niall lunged infront of him to stop him before he goes to cause damage to himself more than to them for being in such a vulnerable and weak state.

“Step away.” He growled angrily, gaze fiery and dangerous.

“No.” Niall sighed.

“I wouldn’t get her buried in sucha cold blood. She didn’t deserved this, hell nobody does.” Harry kissed his teeth together gripping at his hair ruthlessly, cheeks dry with tears, his limbs trembling, his head spinning.

“Anyone who wouldn’t follow my orders gets their kneecaps blow-off.” He grunted -- nostrils flaring and saying this he went away, snatching his guns from the console and ordered his men to find the security guards that had their duties at the main gates.

In just a day he hunted each of those monsters down like a hungry wolf and gave them such punished, tortured deaths that each one fell in Harry’s feet for his mercy but his heart was turned into a stone already because the only warmth it had there was because of one person and that person’s gone leaving him to survive in this hellhole alone while he dragged these bastards to the depths of firepits.

Once, coming back home to her. To his sunshine, to his soul and life, to his reasons of getting up every morning so he would get to spend time with her —- he broke down. Into shattered bits and pieces of remorse, guilt and sadness feeling himself so small and hurtable as he cried to himself all alone in their garden with no-one to console him where he’ll come to meet her daily.

He wants to rip his skin apart and set it on fire for his beating heart to stop, for it stop feeling.

He feels sick. Fainting, in urgency and desperation to hold his baby and never let go.

To lay down with her under the soil if that's possible.

his only reason to live.

His only beloved.

.

The wind giggles through pink leaves of cherry blossom tree, lush grass resting peacefully and Harry smiles to himself treading towards his two most favourite people in the world.

The spring being their heartiest month.

“Azalea! What y’chattering ‘bout t'mum?” He asks and nods proudly when his lil boy stands up from his cross position on the ground from beside his mother and brushes the grassy spikes from his cherry printed shorts with his little pudgy hands.

“My first day at school dada!” The four years old squeals and Harry scoops him up in his arms, kissing his cheek again amount less times, “Is that so, huh! huh!” He tickles his little bun.

Y/N was right. Isn’t she always. Harry chuckles. Even if she’s gone he still feels loved from her, she’s in the rains, in the sweaters he wears when he feels shallow, in the scent of his pillows, she’s in the vanilla smell of their favourite cupcakes – she’s in his dreams and that name of their son, Azalea.

She always wanted to name their first born Azalea, a blooming flower that happens to be a vibrant pink, a gift of spring, are floriferous in sunshine and she'd always say that Harry would be their sun.

Their ever source of happiness.

Azalea was three days old when his mother died and Harry took him home even though not sure of his own decision but something in those little eyes that matches his mommy made Harry’s heart attract towards him so much he brought him without another thought.

A home he built with Y/N. The curtains of the mansion still remains pushed back wide, flower vases on every furniture, not a day goes by when anyone doesn’t misses her and the ducklings has grown so much that Y/N would have been spinning in happiness around.

Nothing has changed, life’s fleeting for everyone except for Harry. He counts each day and night that goes without her beside him in his sleep, in the little picnics with Azalea and Niall, in the story reading at nights with his baby, in kitchen to watch the winters first rain prattling against that one window that’s old enough to carry the remains of his ancestors, she’s never there to share a noodle pot with him while he sits and eat alone, never there to patch his favourite socks back, to kiss his forehead whenever he leaves home, to call him sweet names and to laugh with him on his silly jokes, to do thumb fights, to get angry with him whenever he refuses to layer himself in cold.

Never.

Never physically. But, she’s always there in his heart, her presence lurks around him and he could feel the warmth of her wrapping around him whenever he falls asleep watching telly.

“What did y'learn today bubba?” He asks Azalea and grins cheekily when Azalea babbles, “Colours!”

“That’s fuckin’ amazin'!” At that a huge gush of breeze hits him in face a tiny branch of the tree they’re standing under falls on his head.

“Kay' kay fine! No cursing.” He squeaks in defence pouting down at the grave of his lovie and his face splits into a grin when his hair glittered up with cherry blossom leaves.

“We miss you very much,” His voice heavy and sad. He gulps chokingly and blinks away the glossiness, stroking a thumb up Azalea cheek who’s sitting in Harry’s lap.

Every evening they come to meet Y/N, the hole in his heart couldn’t fill up of her void but the soothing feeling of relief that she’s in their garden and nearer to him has lessened the grief.

“G’na meet you tomorrow, our baby’s mighty hungry.” He chuckles hearing the grumbling noises coming from Azalea’s belly.

“You’re so cheeky baby.” His eyes glimmers and he feels himself swooning into breeze, “How’s it going in heaven?” He asks airily tracing his initials beside her beautiful name engraved at the tombstone and it’s like she’s scolding him when he gets a nip on his pointy finger.

“Azalea kiss mommy a goodbye.” Harry breaks into laughter when Azalea bobs his head and almost tumbles of his daddy’s lap in the effort to reach the tombstone.

“Goodbye beautiful.” Harry whispers kissing the top of her tombstone and his heart bursts into lilacs when once again he’s showered into petal like leaves.

“I love you too, baby.” Finally he has accepted to say goodbyes.

[cheri-translates]

Headcanon - Your son isn’t cute at all

Original title: 儿子一点都不可爱

Original author: 君兮耶君兮 (jun xi ye jun xi)

[ VICTOR ]

You’re certain that the strength of Victor’s genes resulted in that little guy at home being an exact replica of him. Even Victor can’t deny that your son resembles him greatly in terms of appearance.

However, this doesn’t mean he acknowledges the resemblance of their personalities. At the very least, he feels that he wasn’t as studious during his childhood years.

Furthermore, Victor has half-jokingly pointed out that your son’s dislike for exercise is exactly the same as his mother’s.

“Victor, your son is bullying me again!” 

Although your opponent is a little brat, you’re still unable to win. In this short round of Go, your white pieces have more or less been “eaten” by your son’s black pieces.

“Dummy. Don’t blame your son if your skills can’t match up to his.” Victor sets down the documents in his hand, walking over to observe.

Is this something he should be saying in front of the kid!? What about your dignity as a mother? 

You turn around with a glare. “You were the one who taught me how to play Go. My teacher didn’t teach me properly!”

In the past, you’d typically respond to Victor’s remarks with a stubborn retort. Nowadays, you simply toss the bucket to someone else.

“If you make that move, you’d be sending yourself straight to a loss,” Victor comments, seeing that you’re once again putting a white piece where it’d definitely be “eaten”.

“Who says that I’m making that move?” You flick your wrist, salvaging the fate of the white piece, along with your pride. With a dignified air, you continue. “A true gentleman keeps silent while watching a game.”

“Mom, putting your piece here isn’t any different from the other spot.” Your son notes expressionlessly. With a thud of his black piece, he is only one move away from “eating” your white piece.

“...”

Despite the truth in his words, being ridiculed by your son truly upsets you. “We’ll continue. What happened earlier was a tiny mistake.”

In the following rounds, your white pieces grow sparse on the board while Victor observes the mother-son battle calmly. Or rather, watching as you get obliterated by your son.

Wanting to prolong the competition despite the lack of prospects, you courageously seek Victor’s assistance. “Hubby, help me out!”

Ignoring his son’s awkward expression, Victor rubs your head in a comforting manner. Picking up a piece and placing it onto the board, he instantly rescues several white pieces from a tragic ending. “Next time, give your Mom a chance. You need to give some confidence to opponents who are weaker than you.”

Your son nods in half-understanding.

“...”

Victor, don’t think I can’t tell that you’re calling me a noob!

[ GAVIN ]

Just as you wished, you had a son. However, there are times when you really think your son isn’t cute at all!

Your son watches you sternly, hands on his hips.

“Mommy, Dad said that you can’t eat ice-cream these days.”

“Be good. If you don’t say anything, your dad won’t find out. Also, I’m not the only one eating. You can have one too~” You attempt to bribe the little fellow who is utterly loyal to Gavin.

He rejects your suggestion decisively. “No way. Dad will get angry.”

This so-called anger is simply Gavin displaying a cold expression momentarily. Away from his son’s gaze, you’d play coy and Gavin would release a sigh of resignation before gently reminding you not to commit this offence again. To you, this isn’t a deterrence factor at all.

Since your son can’t find out about this little secret, you huff while returning the ice-cream into the fridge. Then, you grab a bag of spicy sticks from the snack basket.

Before your fingers touch the jagged edges of the opening, your son stops you.

“Mom, no spicy sticks either.” 

“...”

It truly isn't a good feeling to be ordered around by a child. 

Bored out of your wits, you bury yourself in the sofa, watching as your son stuffs the packet of spicy sticks back into the snack basket. “What other things did your dad prohibit?”

Your son tilts his head as he recalls. “Aside from ice-cream, mala soup, snacks, fried chicken, there’s nothing else.”

“...”

And he called that “nothing”!?

With the loss of snacks, you feel like your entire life has turned dim and gloomy. You get up coldly before walking into the bedroom listlessly. “I’ll take a nap. When your dad gets back, tell him to face the corner and stay there.”

Your son obediently agrees.

Close to dinnertime, your honourable husband returns home. Even before he removes his shoes, his son calls out to him. “Mom asked you to stand at the corner.” The little rascal gloats slightly.

“???”

Gavin is left dumbfounded, and has no idea what he did to anger you. “Where is she?”

“She’s asleep.”

After standing at the corner for ten minutes, there’s no stirring from the bedroom. Gavin pokes his son, who is sitting at the entrance and reading a book. “Go and check if your mom has woken up.”

“Nope.” Your son refuses instantly.

“Why not?”

“Mom said that if I supervise you until she wakes up herself, she’d buy me the latest model aeroplane.” The little child’s eyes brim with anticipation at the thought of the new toy.

“...”

So he abandoned his father for a new model aeroplane?

[ LUCIEN ]

“Mom, do you really not know how to do this question? Dad said that this question is very simple.” Your son looks up with a frown, only to see your frustrated expression as you rip up a sheet of rough paper.

“...don’t listen to your dad’s nonsense.”

The way Professor Lucien defines the word “simple” is completely different from ordinary people, all right?!

“Dad won’t lie to me. Mom can’t do it because she’s too stupid!”

Ever since the little fellow followed Lucien to the research centre, his admiration for his father has risen by another degree.

Having your self-esteem trampled upon, you toss the pen aside. “Why don’t you ask your dad then? I’m done with this!” 

Isn’t making cream puffs more enjoyable than solving problems? Why should you continue torturing yourself?

“...”

The little rascal pinches the booklet and heads into the study room. “Dad, I think I made Mom angry.”

“What happened?” You rarely lose your temper in front of the child.

His son shows him the question in the booklet. “Mom couldn’t solve it, so I called her stupid.”

“Apologise to your mother!” Lucien thinks that aside from him, nobody else can bully his Little Miss. Not even his son.

“Okay.” Your son responds obediently before going downstairs.

By the time Lucien finishes his work and heads into the kitchen, he spots you stuffing a cream puff into your son’s mouth. “It’s fine, it’s fine. Next time, just ask your dad directly if you have any math questions.”

“All right.” The little rascal’s puffy cheeks resemble a hamster’s. When he sees Lucien arriving, he returns to his room to read books, giving the both of you space.

Amused by the mother-son interaction, Lucien waits till his son leaves before entering the kitchen and reaching out for a cream puff. Before he can even touch one, you whack his hand away.

“Hm? It seems that my wife is angry with me too?” Lucien wraps an arm around your waist and nuzzles his head into the crook of your neck. Even though he’s exerting very little force, you're still unable to free yourself.

“I’m so sorry that I can’t do a question which, according to Professor Lucien, is very simple.” While he continues hugging you, you transfer the cream puffs from the baking tray onto a small plate. 

“That’s okay. Having one adult who can teach him is enough.”

You pout. “Your son called me stupid earlier.”

“Nonsense.” Lucien gives you a tap on the head. “My wife is the smartest. Otherwise, it wouldn’t have taken so long for me to win you over.”

Lucien’s sweet nothings are becoming smoother and smoother. Pushing him away with your elbow, you pick up the small plate. “Go and give the cream puffs to our son.”

Initially thinking that the plate was meant for him, Lucien is stunned momentarily. His son had a cream puff personally fed to him, while he hasn’t even managed to touch a cream puff. “What about mine?”

You release an icy “hmph”.

“Considering Professor Lucien’s high IQ, I’m sure he can make them himself. I want to give these to my son, who is also unable to solve that problem.”

“...”

Why does he have to bear the consequences when his son was the one who angered you?

[ KIRO ]

“I’m back~” 

You’ve just returned from a business trip which swept you overseas for close to a month, and it’s been a long time since you saw the two suns in your home.

“Mommy! Welcome home!”

“Miss Chips! Welcome home!”

The father-son duo exclaim unanimously, rushing over to the door with their similar faces and equally dazzling golden hair.

Your adorable son stumbles over to you, and you respond by squatting down and stretching your hands to give him a full hug. The little fellow tightens his grip around your neck to express his joy and how much he missed you.

Apple Box leaps around beside you to convey his welcome, and you can’t help but reach out to give him a pat on his fluffy head. In the time you weren’t around, he had put on quite a bit of weight.

The small entrance hall brims with a warm atmosphere... aside from Kiro.

At this moment, Kiro feels that his position in the home has deteriorated, and he shoots a killer glare towards your coquettish son and Apple Box, who weren’t sidelined by you.

“Miss Chips, did you not miss me... QAQ”

Despite the passage of time, Kiro, who has even become a father, seems to have become more childish.

You purse your lips. “Who said so? I missed you very much.”

“But you hugged him first and even patted Apple Box. You didn’t give me a hug.” The more he talks about it, the more insignificant he feels.

“Dad, you’re so heavy. Mom won’t be able to carry you.” Your son rubs salt into his wound.

Sure enough, Kiro gets offended by this. With a darkened expression, he pulls his son away from your arms, lifting him into the air. “Say that again!”

The little rascal struggles for a while before escaping from his grasp, then buries himself into your arms again. “Mommy, I drew you a picture!” With this, he sends Kiro a competitive glance.

Amused by the usual competition between father and son, you feed off your son’s excitement. “Really? My darling is incredible!”

“I’m incredible too!” Kiro is deathly afraid of falling behind. “Go away.” He pulls his son away from you once again. His left hand reaches behind your knees, and he bends down to carry you up. When he feels your hands tightening around his neck, he lets out a satisfied “hmph”.

“I can pick your Mom up in a princess carry. Can you?”

“Once I’ve grown up, I can do it too!” Your son gives him a glance of disdain. “Also, you’d be old by the time I grow up. I’d also be more handsome than you. Mommy will definitely like me more~”

“Looks like you need a spanking!” Kiro places you down before reaching for his son.

“Kiro, you’re not allowed to hit our son!” You hurriedly stop him before he can do anything.

“He was challenging my authority as his father.”

You tousle his hair in a comforting manner. “Be good. Actually, our son wasn’t wrong. When you’re old, you’d...”

“Miss Chips!”

“When you’re old, you’d still be handsome!” You chuckle gently, tugging him on the sleeve to make him bend down slightly. A sweet kiss lands on the side of his face. “Superheroes are the most handsome~”

[ SHAW ]

“Don’t make a mess out of our house!”

The moment you see the unsalvageable mess on the coffee table, the only thought that runs through your mind is sending this troublemaker back to the oven to be re-made.

“Dad said that an overly neat doesn’t have a homely feeling.” Your son tilts his head upwards confidently, continuing with his work on hand.

“So why are you doodling on the wall?”

The originally pure white wall has been morphed beyond recognition. And why does the style of this abstract art look so familiar?

Your son wipes his hands on a damp cloth at the side, then picks up a crayon. “Dad said that aesthetic sense must be picked up since young.”

Seeing the patches of postmodern art on the wall causes your blood to boil. “Can’t you use paper?”

As compared to your frantic state, your son is much more composed. “Dad said that I should strike while the iron’s hot when it comes to being inspired. I didn’t have time to find paper, so I drew on the wall.”

No matter what, you have to find the main culprit.

“Shaw, get over here!” Your twist your head and roar towards the living room.

“Did you allow him to draw on the walls?” You glare at him fiercely, causing his initial “yes” to quickly turn into a “I did not.”

Your son lifts his head in confusion. “Dad, didn’t you say that I should draw wherever I wanted to? You even said a child’s talent shouldn’t be stifled.”

“...”

With a grim laugh, you toss him a rag. “Since you allowed him to do it, you’ll be the one to clean up.”

“...son, use paper next time. Don’t draw on the walls.” Shaw finds a smaller rag and hands it to his son. The both of them begin wiping off the colourful traces on the wall pitifully, wishing they could travel back in time to stop this from happening in the first place.

Sitting on your son’s small bed while scrolling through your phone, you occasionally look up to supervise their progress.

Once they’re more or less done, your son suddenly pipes up.

“When can we head out to do graffiti?”

“Graffiti?” Why weren’t you aware of such plans?

“...” 

Shaw has a bad feeling about this.

“Shaw. Explain.”

“It’s just... nurturing his artistic side...” His voice dies off at the end.

“Okay. Right now, I’ll be nurturing his mathematical side. Stand at the corner of the wall and count from one to a thousand.”

After tidying your son’s bed, you head out to pour yourself a cup of water.

Shaw tosses a sympathetic glance at his son. “Every man for himself.”

“As his father, you’ll keep him company.”

“...”

More translated and original works: here

-

[ Permission to translate ]

君兮耶君兮: Can, just state the author and the source

[multifandomfanficss]

Perfect

Doctor x Reader (Platonic!Jack x Reader)

Prompt: When on an adventure with the Doctor and Jack the reader is attacked by an alien called a Psyfon, a race with psychic abilities who feed off of emotions. The reader gets stuck in their perfect dream realm and the Doctor has to save them before they die in there.

Warnings: Dead family members.

A/N: Pretty much any Doctor can be used, but I mostly thought of 10 and 11 while writing it. The aliens were inspired by the Djinn from Supernatural. I was also inspired by Doctor Who: The Infinite Quest a little bit so if you’re a fan of the main series you should totally check that out. Also please let me know if I made an error in pronouns. I tried to make the reader gender neutral so everyone could relate. 

You had been traveling with the Doctor for a while now and had run into Jack not long after you met him. When you first met Jack, an old friend of the Doctor’s, you didn’t believe him when he said he had known the Doctor for over a century. Judging by his earthly appearance and his age there was no way this could be true, but after watching him die you quickly learned of his immortality. 

You met the Doctor when he saved you from the Cybermen. Sadly he couldn’t save your family from such a terrible fate, but he got you out just in time. Ever since then they had been your biggest fear. Jack and the Doctor had lived for so long they both knew what it was like to lose the people they cared for most...nobody knew better than the Doctor. They helped you get through the pain that came after such a big loss. The Doctor would often hear crying coming from your room during your early nights on the TARDIS when he sat up late in the console room and he would be at your side in seconds to comfort you. He was always there for you no matter what. You wouldn’t have gotten to this point without him. By now the nightmares had gone away, mostly, and the scars had stopped bleeding, but they were still there. They would always be there. This history was a part of you forever, your history, and you were just lucky enough to have the Doctor in it. If you’re being completely honest with yourself you had grown a little bit of a crush on the Doctor. I mean who wouldn’t? He’s the Doctor. You loved him, but you would never tell him. You were happy living with his ignorance. Life was better in the bliss of your friendship. 

It had been just a normal adventure with your two best friends, Jack and the Doctor, but then again nothing was ever really normal with them. You were separated from your boys as your ran down a long dark corridor. Your shoes slapped against the cold, hard pavement as you rounded the corner. When you looked behind you there seemed to be nothing chasing you anymore. You stopped to catch your breath. 

The three of you had been investigating a series of psychic attacks that were leaving people brain dead and full of a strange blue goo. You weren’t sure what kind of alien could do such a thing, but you knew you had to find out. 

“(Y/N)?!” I hear Jack yell in a hushed tone. His voice echos throughout the empty building. You turn to look for him when you start to hear ringing in your ears and a giant pounding in your head. You feel your eyes close as your body hits the ground. 

THIRD PERSON POV

Jack stood next to (Y/N)’s body with his gun aimed at the monster while the Doctor crouched down to check their pulse. 

“You better hope they’re still alive!” Jack said as he shoved his big gun in the monster’s face. Usually the Doctor would object to pointing guns at people, but he was so worried about (Y/N) he didn’t have time to care about Jack’s manners. 

“What did you do to them?!” The Doctor asks standing up to look at the alien. They were from a species called Psyfons, a group of aliens who feed off the emotions of other people. 

“Don’t worry, they’re only sleeping,” the alien slurred. 

“For now,” they added. Jack hit the alien with the butt of his gun and knocked them out. The Doctor gave him a disapproving look.

“You should be happy. Knocking them out was the least I could do” Jack joked. The Doctor rolled his eyes and dropped down to (Y/N)‘s body again. Jack joined him this time. They were sweating. He placed his hand over their forehead.

“They’re burning up” Jack stated the obvious. 

“Yes, I know I-I I have to do-do this thing-“ The Doctor starts stuttering. 

“Then do it!” Jack cuts him. 

“But I can’t! I swore I’d never do it again! Not since-“ He started to get a little choked up.

“Since what?!” Jack questioned. 

“Not since Donna” The Doctor finished sadly. Jack put a hand on the Doctor’s shoulder. 

“It’s the only way to save them” Jack told him.

“It was the only way to save her too” The Doctor says sadly.

“Maybe it’ll be different this time” Jack suggests.

“We don’t know that” The Doctor says coldly as he puts his hands to (Y/N)’s head and enter’s their mind. 

(Y/N)’S POV

You wake up laying in the grass in front of your old house. You hear the sound of birds and the sun is just a little too bright for comfort, but it’s home. You take a deep breath of the fresh air. You smile, but you’re confused. You look over to see the Doctor standing in the TARDIS door. Jack is nowhere to be seen. 

“Where’s Jack?” You ask. 

“Oh, popped off to see his friends at Torchwood, I suppose” The Doctor tells you. You nod as you look back to your house. 

“And we’re home because...” You wonder.

“The Psyfon knocked you out. I figured this would be a nice, safe place to rest for a while” He reminds you. 

“And I couldn’t just rest in the TARDIS?” You ask.

“I thought this would be a nice surprise” He says. 

“What year is it?” You ask. You doubt he would be able to bring you to a time period where your family is alive, but it never hurts to ask. 

“2021” He answers.

“So they’re not here” you say sadly.

“Who’s not here?” He asks.

“My family” You say becoming more sad, but more confused by the second. How could he just forget like that? You know he’s lived for a long time, but surely he wouldn’t forget something this important to you. Would he? He gives you a confused look.

“Doctor, my family is d-“ You’re cut off by the sound of a door opening. 

“You didn’t tell us you were coming!” You hear a voice say. You stop dead in your tracks and you go white. It can’t be. 

“Mom?” You say as you turn around to see her. You run to her and engulf her in a giant hug. 

“Woah, what’s that for?” Your mother asks delighted, as you practically knock her down. 

“I just missed you. That’s all” You say as you try to hold back your tears. 

“Where is everybody?” You ask, as it suddenly dawns on you that your family is alive. 

“Your father went to go pick up your brother and sister from school” She informs you. The Doctor comes up behind you and takes your hand. He squeezes it, giving you a big smile. He is an impossible man, but you never knew he could do something like this for you. 

“Why don’t you two come in? It’s almost time for tea” Your mother invites you in. You gladly accept, of course. You watch your mother go into the kitchen as you pull the Doctor aside into the living room and hug him tightly. 

“Thank you” You tell him. That’s when you start to let go of a few tears. 

“I figured it was time to go home” He says happily. The hug lingers a little longer than usual. He just holds you. Then he places a quick kiss to your cheek, just missing your lips. Your face goes red. This is completely out of character for your relationship with the Doctor. Sure you had always wanted to be something more, but he didn’t need to know that. You didn’t want your relationship with him to change. You figure it’s best to just dance around the subject. You pull away and clear your throat. 

“So, um...how did you do it?” You ask.

“Do what?” He asks looking lovingly into your eyes. 

“Bring my family back?” You ask with a slight chuckle.

“I didn’t” He says simply. That’s when your head begins to ring again. 

“Let me in, (Y/N). That’s it.” You hear the Doctor’s voice, but his lips aren’t moving. Suddenly there is a light and the Doctor shifts uncomfortably. He cracks his neck and stretches out his arms. 

“Good thing there was a body here for me to jump into or else that could have been disastrous” He comments. You give him a confused look. 

“Oh, yes! I’m sorry (Y/N), but none of this is real” He says plainly. 

“What?” You ask. This all certainly looks and feels real. The sound of a kettle whistle comes from the kitchen. The Doctor sniffs the air. 

“Is that tea?” He asks. 

“Tea’s ready!” Your mom calls from the kitchen. 

“Doctor, you need to tell me what’s going on right now” You demand. He looks into the kitchen and makes a face.

“The Psyfon. It put you in a dream state so it could feed off your energy and emotions. You’re dying in the real world. Turning to goo” He held out the last word as he made a face of disgust and interest. He gave you a sad look as he started to put the pieces together, of where you were and who you were with. You started to feel your legs give out from underneath you. The Doctor guided you to a chair. 

“I want to stay” You say numbly. 

“(Y/N), none of this is real” He starts.

“I don’t care. I want to stay” You repeat. 

“You’ll die in here” He begins. 

“Time works differently in dreams. I could easily spend my whole life here-“ You try to rationalize it.

“You’ll never see me again” The Doctor tries. 

“There’s a version of you here-“ You try, but are cut off again. He crouches down to your level and takes hold of your hands. 

“(Y/N), none of this is real. It will never be real. Your pain balances out your beauty. There wouldn’t be one without the other and that’s what makes you human and you are SO human. This is all in your head. You will be alone in here forever. Please just come home with me. There are people there who will miss you. Come back with me, back to the TARDIS, please!” He results to begging as a last ditch effort. 

“How can I go back when everything is so perfect here? I’m perfect here. I’m not a mess. I can just be me” You start to cry. 

“You’re always perfect to me and that little bit of mess makes you human. It doesn’t lessen your beauty or your creativity or your kindness. It just adds to who you are as a person” He says, wiping away a tear.

“Please. Come home with me” He begs. You nod in response as he gives your hands a squeeze. He gives you a sad smile. You stand together and you hear the doorbell ring. 

“That must be your father. He forgot his keys again” Your mother laughs as she walks to the door. The door opens and the Doctor pushes himself in front of your as three Cybermen crash through the door. 

“DELETE” One yells, as it kills your mother. 

“NO” You scream, as the Doctor tries to keep you from running towards her.

“She isn’t real! Come on!” He yells over the sound of pounding Cybermen feet as he pulls you out the back way to the garden.

“Where’s the TARDIS?” He asks. 

“It’s on the other side of the house!” You say as you pull him around the building. You lay your eyes on the beautiful blue box as the Doctor shoves his key inside. 

“YOU WILL BE UPGRADED” The Cybermen shout. Once unlocked, you push your way through the doors to find a hollow Police Box. 

“Why is this happening?!” You cry. The Doctor places his hands on your shoulders. 

“The dream is turning into a nightmare to try to keep you here. (Y/N), come on. You have to think. What’s keeping you here?” He asks.

“My family is dead!” You cry.

“Yes, something else” He tries to think. You look at his thinking face. His beautiful thinking face and it strikes you. 

“I’m in love with you” You blurt out.

“What?!” He looks back at you with a confused look. 

“The version of you here. I think he felt the same way” You give him an embarrassed look. He lets go of a big breath. 

“Well...” He starts as he tilts his head. 

“I suppose if admitting the way I feel gets us out of here then the real me doesn’t feel very different” He finishes quickly. 

“Wait, what?!” You respond. He gives you his classic Doctor smile before the Cybermen fade. Everything fades. The world goes black. 

You wake up crying with a pounding headache in your bed in the TARDIS. The Doctor rushes in just like old times. 

“It’s okay. I’m here” The Doctor tells you as he sits on your bed and wraps his arms around you. 

“I just had the most insane dream” You start to tell him. 

“Well...” His voice fades. 

“Doctor, was that real?” You ask him. He pulls back to look at you. 

“In a sense, yes” He goes on to explain the effects the Psyfon had on you and how he went into your mind to save you. He explains how you were unconscious when you came out of the dream state and that he brought you back to your room on the TARDIS to rest.

“Where’s Jack?” You ask.

“He’s bringing the Psyfon to the Shadow Proclamation for me where they will be tried for their psychological attacks. They won’t hurt anyone anymore” He promises. After you’ve calmed down somewhat he gets up to leave the room. 

“You should get some rest” He says opening the door. 

“Wait! Doctor, do you think maybe you could stay with me? Just until I fall asleep?” You ask. 

“Of course” He responds as he awkwardly climbs into your bed and wraps his arms around you. You almost forget about your confessions until he kisses you on the cheek. 

“Goodnight, (Y/N)” He says sweetly.

“Goodnight, Doctor” You say as you drift off to sleep to the sound of his dual heartbeats. 

[snifflesthemouse]

There's a sense of freedom that comes with anonymity of online interactions. This sense of freedom only exists because of the fact it's difficult for the real world to catch up with you in your real life. Unless of course, you go after the wrong one.

When a person goes after someone else solely because they think differently or have a strong opposing opinion, they often do so with a false gusto and bravery that only exists in the virtual realm. Like many say online, "You'd never say that to my face." And that's true for most people... but not all people.

And because of this anonymity, that affords all internet users the freedom to say whatever, a real life concern spawns from a virtual world. This real life concern is often referred to as "doxxing" where one internet user uses what clues and resources they have available to "expose" another internet user's real life. This has happened to many people I watch on YouTube. Some have even had to involve the real life police, as well as uproot their entire lives and move because of doxxing.

For example, Murky Meg has been doxxed a couple times now. She's had her real life threatened by doxxing. Terrifyingly, she wasn't the only target threatened because the douche flutes also brought her children into it. Yes, the same people who worship the Montecito Madam and preach the mantras of "compassion and kindness" and "leave children out of this" have gone so far as to go after Murky Meg's real life and real life children. And sadly, the threats and attacks never really stop. Especially when articles like the one I wrote about make the rounds. But Murky Meg doesn't allow this all to silence her; she keeps calm and carries on regardless.

Another example involves Yankee Wally. She was targeted repeatedly over copyright infringement on her YouTube channel, as well as having her social media accounts suspended repeatedly over the last few years. And even though Yankee Wally has never pretended to be anything or anyone else than who she is in real life, people have attempted to use her past as a weapon to discredit her. Those attempts are futile, though, because Yankee Wally has always been open and honest about her life. She's also been very clear to the people watching her that she will fight back if need be.

Then there's According2Taz. While Taz has gone through the same ringer that so many others have gone through (from doxxing to threats, harassment, and verbal abuse), she has also been attacked financially. Especially when it comes to her supporting good causes. Some twat waffles have sent her £0.01 via PayPal with notes attached. Notes that are grossly abusive, calling her fat and ugly, and saying her husband is cheating on her. Others have sent requests asking her to pay them £100 with notes attacking HRH Catherine the Duchess of Cambridge and her book. Murky Meg got a similar request, as well. But the most heinous impediment coming from the Montecito Madam's extremists, involved charity. Once, when Taz was raising money for Australian wildlife affected by the wildfires; someone reported her PayPal account and those funds were held up for some time before getting released for the cause. Then, again, Taz was targeted when she was raising funds to help an elderly woman who got robbed. Yes, the very same people, who stand on custom-made soap boxes emblazoned with the Sussex monogram, did everything they possibly could to marginally disrupt charity. Yet Taz does not waiver; she keeps going.

As bad as Murky Meg, Yankee Wally, and Taz have had it, they're sadly not alone. No, they are only three examples from a plethora of examples. Of that plethora, one more example comes to mind. That example involves DanjaZone (Ashli).

Ashli, who started her YouTube channel before the whole Megxit ordeal as a way to keep in touch with family, was even the subject of a blind item from CDAN (crazy days and nights). You see, Ashli and her family lost everything they had in a horrible house fire. Rumors swirled around the fire, but the most heinous comments came from the Sussex Squad's more prominent loudmouths. Some accused Ashli of lying about the fire in an attempt to scam people for money. Others called her white trash and trailer trash. So while Ashli was going through the loss of her home and everything she owned... while she was grieving the loss of family pets and irreplaceable family mementos... while she was down and out on her luck and trying to cope with all the pain and loss... while she was going through all of the attacks from doubters saying she faked the fire or was lying, that she was trailer trash... the disciples of the Duchess were laughing and celebrating her pain as a win. Never once considering the fact that Ashli has been in recovery for years now, and the stress from the fire coupled with the heartless, feckless attacks, could in fact push her over the edge.

No, the very same people, who scream via CAPS lock on social media that critics of Meghan should "leave her alone", that her critics drove the Montecito Madam to "suicidal ideation while pregnant" could care less about Ashli's mental health. Yes, the very same people, who lodged over 50,000 OFCOM complaints against Piers Morgan because he questioned their beloved's outlandish attacks during the Oprah interview, previously found no issues with attacking Ashli during one of the hardest times in her life. Yet, Ashli picked up the pieces and never gave up or gave into their attacks.

Again, these four examples are just the tip of the hypocritical iceberg. There are countless more examples out there. Hundreds, if not thousands, of people who criticize Meghan's and Harry's behaviors can all relate. Nobody is safe or off limits from this iceberg; from Royal Rota reporters, celebrities, and politicians to regular people who aren't rich, famous, or in possession of a global platform.

Yet nobody, and I mean absolutely nobody, in the media or in journalism ever cover any of this. You can find articles galore written with the intentions of exposing "Meghan Markle Haters". Articles like the one I wrote about attacking critics and reducing us all to the stereotypes of racist, misogynist, bigot, envious, etc.

What that does is send a clear, prominent message to the people who cling to every word of the Montecito Madam. The people who cling to the wind coming from her mouth, her "close friends" or fake "palace insiders" hear those dog whistles loud and clear. The dog whistles that say "It's okay, keep attacking and hurting people. They're evil, hateful racists. They deserve the abuse. You're on the side of good. Go harder!"

When in truth, the wind they cling to coming from their beloved's mouth or mouthpieces is actually falsehoods, lies, and manifestations of grandeur that is no more real than Netflix's The Crown. No, the wind they cling to really comes from the south mouth of their beloved. But God forbid anyone hold their little cult accountable.

We cannot have a society where sensationalism trumps truth. We cannot weaponize the press and use it against people simply because they criticize the Meghan Markles of the world. It is unacceptable for the press, media platforms, or anyone with a prominent influence on society, to celebrate defenders of the Meghan Markle faith without first acknowledging the truth.

The truth, which is often dream dashing and harsh, is that "Meghan Markle Lovers" could care less about compassion, kindness, charity, children, or community. The truth is, they could care less about forgiveness or loving thy neighbors. We don't have to look to their savior figurehead to prove this to be true. We only have to look at the comments section or Twitter.

Those of us who criticize or dislike Meghan and Harry because of their behavior know all too well the truth will never be written up on the front page of the Sun, the Daily Mail, or People Magazine. The mirage of us being the racists, misogynists, or detesting haters sells papers. And the papers don't want to be in that same category.

Maybe one day the press will tell the stories of people like Murky Meg, Yankee Wally, Taz, Ashli, and countless others in an effective way that exposes the real haters in the relationship. Maybe one day, the victims of the Montecito Madam's cult following will be doxxed, exposed, and sent a new message. A message that says, "We see you for the hypocrites you are. You may repeat the preachings of your Madam like it's the new woke gospel, but you don't practice it. You're a big reason why people loathe your beloved. You make her look worse. You aren't defending her, you are condemning her. Keep it up, because we see you and we will expose you!"

If only...