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yaeggravate · 5 months

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Theory: Kaeya's Vision was Given to Him by The Sinner and his Vision Gives us a Major Hint as to The Sinner's Identity.

can we talk about kaeya's vision? i've been dying to talk about kaeya's vision again.

(spoilers for everything up until 4.2)

good news, we finally got some more insight on what visions are! according to neuvilette's character story, when a person's desire reaches the heavens, archons are dutybound to put aside a shard of their mastery for them. this "mastery" originally belongs to the seven sovereigns.

To continue to subdue and control the resentments and loathing of the world, the usurper and one who came after created the Gnoses together. So it came to be that an order was made to be upheld, and thus did humans come to only possess these seven remembrances, and all fragments of the primordial were driven to devour each other. From that day on, whenever a person's wishes reached the heavens, the seven overseers of the material realm were duty-bound to grant them a gift. Though they might know nothing of who or what wish had stepped into the threshold of the sacred, the Seven Archons still had to impart a shattered shard of their mastery to that person.

after focalors destroyed the throne of the hydro archon, neuvilette gained complete authority over the hydro element. because he's a nice guy, he decided to also put aside some of his mastery to grant visions to people.

furina is one such person.

here's the cool part; her vision looks different from other fontainians. the decoration combines ousia and pneuma elements and there are four little fangs holding the vision in place.

KAEYA'S VISION

that brings me back to the conundrum that is kaeya's vision. before furina, he was the only character with a vision that deviated from the norm.

there are two unique oddities about his standard vision: it's missing two wings; the strings on the back are on the other side: this is an indication that it's mirrored.

(for simplicity's sake i will ignore the vision on his other outfit since it's essentially modified to match zosimos' design.)

what if kaeya's situation is similar to furina's? and i'm not just talking about their never-ending masquerade… what if his vision was granted by someone else?

WHY ARE THE STRINGS ON THE RIGHT SIDE?

i have briefly talked about this before but mirrors are associated with the abyss. this lead me to believe that it's possible that kaeya's vision might have been given by the abyss/the sinner.

note how the strings on furina's gem also switch sides when she changes from pneuma to ousia. (pneuma (light) on the left and ousia (dark) on the right.)

it's relatively common knowledge by now that kaeya's kit shares similarities with abyss mages and heralds and that many khaenri'ahns were turned into abyssal creatures, (possibly due to them being in a similar situation as jakob ingold who possessed a "bit of the dark cold cosmos's power").

Paimon: And you said the people turned into monsters... You're trying to tell Paimon that the Abyss Order is not only related to Khaenri'ah but is actually the people of Khaenri'ah themselves!?

with the new information given, this theory seems more plausible. if neuvilette can give out visions, why not mr. purple crystal as well? if wishes can reach the "heavens", couldn't they also reach the abyss? we saw the crystal respond to clothar's praying and display a bit of creepy omniscience so you know it's powerful.

WHY IS THE VISION MISSING WINGS?

consider that the fangs on furina's vision is neuvilette's tongue-in-cheek way of hinting at him being a dragon, as his own personal touch. then could clipped wings hint towards the identity of whoever gave kaeya his vision? what do clipped wings indicate? fallen angels. what's a fallen angel? a sinner. 😏💯

Fallen angels are angels who were expelled from heaven. The literal term "fallen angel" does not appear in any Abrahamic religious texts, but is used to describe angels cast out of heaven or angels who sinned. Such angels often tempt humans to sin.

fun fact, the abyss mages are always chanting in ENOCHIAN which is popularized as the language of the angels.

The script for this language appears while Abyss Mages are chanting to regenerate their shields as well as over their heads when performing spells outside of combat. […] The script also appears in the yellow protective runes around the weak points of Automatons, where the mirrored glyphs for B, L, and G circle around the core. Ruin Guards are known to have been made by the people of Khaenri'ah, many of whom turned into "monsters of the Abyss," so this script was possibly used in Khaenri'ah as well.

way back in the first archon quest, an abyss mage speaks to kaeya in enochian. it's significant enough that they give us a subtitle to imply kaeya can understand this angelic language; we have been shown he knows other ancient languages as well, like the language of the hilichurls and a strange script in the manga.

Kaeya: There's no way hilichurls organized an ambush like this themselves — not with their limited mental capacity... Kaeya: Thus YOU were behind this. Hydro Abyss Mage: Gohus, Chiso Vonph.

perhaps a reach but kaeya has one giant wing on his outfit, possibly a reference to the most famous video game villain in history, sephiroth, the one-winged angel?

this one is not a reach because kaeya also owns a book called the adventures of angelos. angelos is from greek ἄγγελος which means angel.

Between the pages of "The Adventures of Angelos," you find a list of names written on a sheet of official Knights of Favonius letterhead paper.

a book named angel containing a list of names, just to show the traveler he has eyes everywhere is a little on the nose if you ask me.

*edit: i forgot to include the most obvious hint, kaeya's favorite hangout: angel's share. and in the book of revelation there is a star or angel that fell to earth known as wormwood, (apsinthion in greek), which is the name of a plant used to make absinthe, which in turn is thee main ingredient of death (in the) afternoon, kaeya's favorite drink. dainsleif also likes this drink.

Wormwood (ἀψίνθιον apsinthion or ἄψινθος apsinthos in Greek) is a star or angel which appears in the Book of Revelation.

another fun fact, nabu malikata's last name malikata, besides meaning queen, could also mean angels.

In Islam, angels (Arabic: ملاك٬ ملك‎, romanized: malāk; plural: ملائِكة‎, malāʾik/malāʾikah) are believed to be heavenly beings.

nabu malikata is a survivor of the seelie race who were abandoned by the heavens; they are heavily implied to be angels. she is also the originator of the jinn. huh, i wonder why kaeya gifted us a seemingly random lamp which is said to have housed a powerful jinni...

all this is pointing to the sinner being a fallen angel which makes sense since the archons have demonic names from the ars goetia, it stands to reason that higher abyssal beings should have angelic names.

in islam, there is a fallen angel named iblis who had four wings (like kaeya's vision) and who was chained up in the deepest part of hell (like the sinner), whose original name was azazil. khaenri'ah has some ties to arabic mythology, so who knows? this is just one possibility. interestingly enough, the names of four of the archangels ARE referenced in mona's magic circle but not azazil.

the interesting part about the crystal is that he denies being a god and addresses the traveller as "creature"… there has been some speculation that the dragon king nibelung is the sinner, but we honestly don't have enough information to make that leap.

**edit: the domain we find the sinner in is located inside the chasm. thousands of years ago, back when zhongli was still young, an entity known as the sun or solar chariot fell to teyvat forming the chasm. this was during the time the moon sisters fell.

according to one legend, they refer to the entity as a fallen star. the star stayed in the chasm until the archon war, but before it returned to the sky it permanently left a piece of itself behind.

also, the sinner's domain has enkanomiyan statues and architecture. in enkanomiya, there is an achievement you can get called phosphorus' guidance, which you get by following seelies. phosphorus is the greek name for the morning star. the latin name for the morning star is lucifer, now best known as the name of a fallen angel.

The Ancient Greeks called the morning star Φωσφόρος, Phosphoros, the "Bringer of Light". Another Greek name for the morning star was Heosphoros, meaning "Dawn-Bringer".

dawn-bringer, you say? reminds me of the harbinger of dawn kaeya gives you in the very beginning of the game. what are you trying to tell us, bud?

lastly, the traveler notes the upside down defiled statue of the anemo archon is similar to the sinner. the statue, of course, has wings. it's funny because when we meet kaeya for the very first time, it's in front of the anemo god statue in front of the cathedral... notably, both dainsleif, and kaeya in his hangout route do not go inside the cathedral.

Kaeya: Perfect. (Traveler), why don't you head into the Cathedral and invite Sister Barbara to join us? I'll look for another friend who's interested in helping us.

Dainsleif: When a non-believer steps onto holy ground, the result is never pretty.

WHY DOES THE VISION HAVE A MONDSTADT CASING?

khaenri'ah was outside of the rule of the seven, hidden from the gaze of the gods. we don't know yet if in days of old khaenri'ahns could receive visions but we do have dainsleif's character card to give us a clue.

The listed name of his Vision's element, as announced on his Chinese Character Card, is a set of indecipherable symbols.

so dainsleif does have a vision; it's just that it has manifested as something else, possibly because unlike kaeya-seemingly a normal human-he is cursed.

in any case, we've seen wanderer receive a complete sumeru vision despite not even being from there and arlecchino has a shneznayan casing despite loving her homeland fontaine. (although there might be some other shit going on with her.)

this means vision casings are tied to the region the receiver is in and has nothing to do with where a person is born. if neuvilette were to gift someone from outside fontaine a hydro vision, they would receive a casing from the region they're in. fontainians have pneuma or ousia alignments but arlecchino's shneznayan vision has no indication of what she is aligned with. though again, arlecchino is not a normal human being, who knows what's going on there.

Along with Divinity: Prologue [...] we should be conscious of the fact that what shapes our thinking, logic, culture, philosophy and aesthetics is not the archons themselves, but the objective environment that exists around us. This world around us is what we have inherited, and what this book shows is that the people of Teyvat have always been, and always will be, heirs to a divine legacy — but not to divinity itself.

(also thought it was pretty interesting how capitano calls the gnosis, the gnosis from inazuma instead of "the electro gnosis" or the "gnosis from the electro archon".)

aaand scene. please note that this is all kind of jumbled wild speculation and should not be taken as fact! this is all in good fun.

#kaeya #kaeya alberich #who is kaeya we just don't know #i need to stop before i fall into another rabbit hole #.txt #lore bytes

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http-numbah5 · 1 year

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Turkish Dizi girlies where do you watch your stuff for free without signing up?

#anyway #Watching reborn rich #Getting into SVT #spending waaaay too much time thinking of Wonwoo send help #Finished twenty five twenty one and God was so true for hinting I should stop at episode 12 #I didn't hate the show #I reeeeeeally appreciate it and Baek Yi-jin I will personally protect you from the harsh effects of life #Went through another ATEEZ phase (thanks Mingi :* )#They have the most *about that life* energy ever😂#Seeing that I even circled back to SVT (thanks Joshua)#I can certify that the diamond life to atiny (or vv) pipeline is real #However fans have a much bigger influence on how I enjoy an artist than one would think #Yes I am saying the less toxic a fanbase the more likely I am to stick around even if EYE am not interacting with the fanbase #But I want to get into Pentagon however I need a few months break from Kpop all together before I enter the rabbit hole again #Or maybe I won't #Maybe I should just enter my podcast era #TrIed getting into High Class but it annoyed me #Mine was too dramatic for me and that grandson of the household falls for the help trope upset me because SHE COULD LOSE HE JO #job do not be so wreckless young man #I hate the /he would risk it all including your safety just to be with you/ trope like she needed that job bruh don't get her into trouble?#High Class? I didn't want to see little children cry #JaeIn is a beautiful babygirl #I got so excited when I saw Turkey in reborn rich /.\#Start Up is so difficult for me to get through bro the first episode is just—MUST THERE BE SO MUCH SADNESS #Sky Castle had too much academic trauma—I'm good #Gaus Electronics you are my happy watch my favourite background noise best comedy favourite everything the cast was great the jokes hit ju—#CORRECT

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flamingpudding · 7 months

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Fictober23 Prompt: 8 - "Give me that, before anything happens."

Fandom: DPxDC

Rating: G

Warnings: -

"Don't touch that." Constantine said without even looking up from the book he was reading through for research. Phantom had joined the Justice League dark only recently and was still in that sort of mentor - glorified babysitting - state. It was just his luck that he lost in the stick draw and had now to 'mentor' the who-knows-how-old-he-truly-is Ghost King.

He should have stuck this job to Zatanna. The 'kid' was curious as a cat and apparently wanted to touch every good damn artifact in the House of Mysteries that Constantine had ever gotten his hands on.

"Don't touch that either." The Brite muttered without looking up, he was so close in figuring out the actual meaning of the curse placed on a good damn church bell that causes everyone who hears it to fall asleep at midnight sharp and wake up at 8 AM later like nothing happened. Behind his back Phantom stuck his tongue out at the man before reaching out to poke the artifact that caught his eye anyway. However the House of Mysteries had other ideas as it reconstructed itself at the right moment and put the artifact further away from Phantom.

The Ghost King pouted, crossing his arms and floated over to where Constantine was pouring over a curse seal. Phantom hummed as he looked over the Brites shoulder grinning. "Oh I didn't know you could use ghost speech for curses!"

"Say what now mate?!" John's head snapped to the side to stare at Phantom who was now floating over his shoulder. "It's in ghost speech? What even is that?"

The Ghost King had the nerve to give him an unimpressed stare that really made the Brite need a smoke, but he had given Zatanna his good damn word not to smoke around the 'kid', so that was a no.

"Ghost speech. The language of the Infinite Realms also known as the Ghost Zone, After Life, Hell, Home of the Damned, and so on and so on." Constantines eye twitched as the Ghost boy shrugged. He let out a suffering sigh and pushed his copie of the curse seal over to Phantom.

"What does it say?" The other blinked for a moment before turning his eyes to the photo. A scratching static white noise filled the Brite's ears and he yelped in pain, covering his ears. The noise instantly stopped and Contantine glared at the Ghost King who sheepishly scratched the back of his neck. "Sorry, I will say it again in English."

Constantine only grumbled something inaudible before motioning for the other to continue.

"You idiots don't sleep enough. Go and get at least eight hours of sleep. If you don't sleep by midnight I will be the one to make you sleep."

"The hell?"

"That's what's written there."

"Don't tell me we have another good damn Sandman problem on our hands." John gripped with one hand at his hair, he really hoped that wasn't it because dear good he did not want to get Batman or one of the other Not Dark heros involved.

"Nah, he goes by Nocturne, he never liked that name some philosophers came up with. But this does go against the agreement I had with him."

Was this how Batman felt when his Robins went against his orders? Or how the mentors of the Yonge Justice feel when the teens sass back? Because Constantine was sticking this ancient kid of a Ghost King onto Zatanna the next change he got.

"You know how to lift that curse then?" Instead of going further into a rabbit hole, Constantine decided it was easier to just find out if the Ghost King can lift a good damn curse he had been working on solving for days now instead of finding out who the hell Nocturne was now.

"Of course I know." Phantom answered easily, floating on his back around the room like he was going with the flow of water. Glowing green eyes going along the shelves where various books and artifacts were thrown on, in no particular order.

"Great. Let's go and fix this then." The man muttered, getting up from his chair and grabbing his coat. "I need a bottle of whiskey after this and a good damn smoke…"

Phantom just followed behind the man ready for his second official job with the Justice League Dark. He grinned happily of finally getting some outside action only to come to a sudden halt as the Brite man whirled around glaring at the Ghost King only inches from his the other.

"Phantom?"

"Yes?" The 'kid' answered nervously.

"Give me that, before anything happens. How often did I tell you NOT to touch anything of the artifacts? Do you even know what that thing does!"

Reluctantly like a reprimanded child the Ghost King handed over a golden plate with a glowing green crystal embedded into it, Constantine remembered it being the leftover part of a demon they had banished. The man narrowed his eyes. "The other one too."

"Fine…" Phantom handed over a crystal zepter, John had picked up from an ancient tomb. "Didn't think you noticed me picking them up, since you didn't say anything before I even touched them."

"Mate, you are forgetting who currently owns this house."

#fictober23 #danny fenton #danny phantom #dp x dc #dpxdc #crossover #dcxdp #john constantine #justice league dark #Danny is getting Mentored by the JL Dark #Constantine got the short stick of the draw #He has to take care of Danny for some time #danny is a little shit #and chaos gremlin #Constantine despite knowing Phantom is a ghost king is still sorta rude #the 'kid' joined the JLD John will give enough respect to not cause their dimension harm #Nocturne cursed some humans

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suiana · 4 months

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need more killer harem and organ seller

(yandere! killer harem x gn! organ seller reader) (first fic of 2024 oh em gee 😋😋)

"it's going to be 2024."

"yeah."

you reply to his statement as you stand motionlessly, staring up at the night sky as your provider for the day stands beside you. you tug at your turtleneck sweater nervously, avoiding his gaze as you attempt to ignore how he inches closer to you with each passing second.

you two remain silent after that, him staring affectionately at you and you standing awkwardly beside him. you nervously eye the railing you leaned against, watching as the crowd below you engages in merry discussion. gulping awkwardly, you play with your hands as you mentally curse yourself for deciding to accept his offer of watching the new year's fireworks with him. you should've known better than to accept one of your lovesick admirers hand in something so romantic.

plus, it's not like you did anything like this for any of your other partners. sure, you kissed a few, held some tenderly, indulged multiple on dates, maybe even fucked one or two... but you've never agreed to watch fireworks like lovers do! speaking of which...

it's almost creepy how each and every one of your business partners turn out infatuated with you one way or another. was it the air? was it because they were all mentally insane? you don't know and you couldn't bother to care. because the more you know, the deeper you fall into the rabbit hole of their lives.

so you don't know why you've decided to indulge this organ provider for today. especially since... he looks more deranged than the rest.

"hey, can i ask something?"

he asks, staring at you with that same creepy smile that sends chills up your spine. yet, you nod in response to his question. he simply laughs at that, turning to look at the night sky before mumbling softly.

"would you choose me out of everyone else?"

you pause, looking at him with narrowed eyes before shaking your head. you're not going to entertain any nonsense. you knew you should've left earlier-

"mn... that's too bad. i would've chosen you in a crowd of others. it hurts me to know you wouldn't do the same."

he holds your wrist tightly, mumbling in faux hurt as he smiles eerily at you. you freeze, not moving as you glare at your business partner. damn, you can't believe you actually agreed to be here with him in the first place.

"let go."

"nah. i like holding you."

you grit your teeth, but do nothing to break free as you continue to stare at him. he merely hums in response, smiling as he looks across the city skyline.

all of a sudden, he pins you to the railing, face way too close for comfort.

"mn... you're so cute like this... can i kiss you?"

you squirm under his grip, heart beating loudly as all you can focus on is his eager face.

"g-get off!"

you huff, pushing at his chest as you sweat nervously. shit, he could easily push you over the railing and you'd be mush like some of his victims- that's when you felt his lips brush against yours, kissing your cheek as his hands go to the back of your neck.

you stop in place, looking up as he pulls away only to realize that it was a new year. your fingers gently touch your cheek as you eye him. he didn't kiss you on the lips? what was he up to?

"haha! how silly you are. i just wanted to give you a new year's present. don't be so tense."

he gestures to the necklace around your neck. ah... so that's what he did...

"and there was ice cream on your face from just now. didn't tell you cause i thought you'd notice but you're much more clumsier than i thought! don't worry, i cleaned it for ya. free of charge~"

he winks at you before grinning.

"happy new year. i hope you'll make the right choice when the time comes."

he then waves at you before turning around, leaving you alone to you thoughts as the sound of the fireworks takes your attention. right choice huh... was this a sign that your business partners were planning something? you sure hope not...

you wouldn't want to have to make such a difficult choice. especially since choosing just one would mean you'd make enemies out of the rest. you sigh out, rubbing your temples before leaning against the railing again. oh well, you'll just enjoy the pretty display for now. after all, that's what you came for. you'll deal with the problems later.

"...happy new year, i guess."

yeah, what a happy new year this year will be :)

#suiana's sinners #yandere #tw yandere #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere drabbles #yandere scenarios #yandere killer harem #yandere killer harem x reader #suiana rambling #suiana brainrotting

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dabislittlemouse · 7 months

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tainted angel🪽 (pt.4)

PART 1 // PART 2 // PART 3 // PART 5

ෆ DABI X HAWKS’ LITTLE SISTER

ෆ cw: Dabi being a flirt and a pervert, corruption kink, smut and dubcon incoming, stalking

ෆ Before you read chapter 4: I will be slightly including her POV in this chapter (or yours since you can gladly imagine yourself being Keigo’s sister as well) and then it goes back on Dabi’s POV again‼️

Her POV (or yours too)

The long hours at college finally came to an end. Without wasting a second, I head home, carrying my books while leaving my friends behind. I am too lost in thoughts to even notice or hear them shout my name. Flying home would be quicker, but that was not an option due to the weather conditions. According to Keigo, I need to be way more experienced if I want to fly in a stormy weather, but I’d rather not risk getting hit by a thunder and set ablaze in the sky. Walking will do just fine.

As if it’s my new obsession, I check my phone every second, waiting for something. For a call, for another message from him. But nothing else was sent after his last message.

Tonight at 10, the alleyway right behind the supermarket. Be pretty for me..

-Dabi

My heart skips a beat at the reminder of that text message. There is no way I will go out and meet him tonight is it? Only if I’m stupid enough.

Which.. I may be.

After having a talk with my brother that day, I realised how much risk I put all of us in. Surely he told me it was not my fault, but in a way or another it was, because I let a stranger in and trusted him so easily.

But how could I not when his clear blue eyes pierce right through my own? He would know if I was lying, I’m sure he could read my thoughts.

It was very weird, the way he captivated me entirely, the way his presence screamed danger and yet I found myself intrigued by him. His husky voice and teasing comments sent a strange heat deep in my core, awakened something in me which I never knew I had. How could someone who I meet for the first time make me feel like this? The way those hands touched me, I still feel their warmth on my body, I still feel his gaze on me even though he is not here at all. Those strange marks on his face decorated with piercings, what could those possibly be?

Keigo told me to stay away from him, not elaborating why, and this is eating me from the inside out. The more I am forbidden to see him, the more I actually want to see him. My brother was very strict about it, I’ve never seen him this serious before, so for sure this has to be some big deal. As the number two hero of Japan, and as my big brother, I trust him deeply. And I want to listen to him, really, I do.

But the way this mysterious man is tempting me, I feel like I’ll fall down a rabbit hole that I won’t easily get out of. My logic tells me to not meet him tonight, it’s basically screaming at me but my so-called heart is pumping vigorously in my chest at the thought of Dabi, butterflies in my stomach almost making me feel nauseous. I am intrigued, thrilled to find who he really is. How did those flowers end up in my room? So many questions getting no answers.

Maybe if I meet him tonight I will get them.

I stay in front of my mirror, examining everything around me. Would he like my cherry scented perfume or my vanilla one? I wonder which dress he would like best, how should I keep my hair..

“What got you so excited? Going out tonight~?”

Startled at the voice, I see Keigo leaning on my doorstep, a smile on his face as he watches the mess in my room and all my clothes scattered on the floor. He was still on his hero costume, I figured he stopped by for lunch and would head back again.

“Oh- not sure if I will I just..” I scratch my neck, avoiding his gaze as I try not to make it too obvious that I’m lying. Guilt is eating me from the inside, but I’m reminding myself that I’m meeting Dabi only because I need answers.

“If you aren’t going anywhere then I figured we can hang out since I’m free,” Keigo says. “You, me, mom.. we can eat dinner somewhere fancy, I know a good place!”

“Oh?” My mouth falls slightly open, and now the guilt is worsening. It’s not often that we all hang out as a family due to Keigo being constantly busy with hero work. It’s getting harder and harder for me to make decisions.

Fuck Keigo, why would you gather us specifically tonight? Is this a sign that I should never meet Dabi?

“I don’t think I can make it..” The words come out of my mouth so suddenly, not even recognising my own voice anymore. “I have an exam tomorrow and I really need to study for that one so-”

What are you even doing? Lying like this. You’re an idiot, a total idiot.

For some reason the thought of Dabi waiting there for me tonight has my heart pumping so hard to the point I can’t even hear my logic anymore.

“Ah shame” Keigo pouts playfully. “But exams are more important, there’ll be other nights to hang out for sure. Seems like it’s gonna be only me and mom tonight then..”

If that ain’t a golden opportunity to sneak out of the house the moment they leave, then I don’t know what is.

Suddenly I feel like the 13 year old girl with strict parents who was not allowed to go out with friends. But this time it’s me, an adult, whose brother warned her, for unknown reasons, to not meet the raven haired guy with sharp teal eyes, who meant nothing but danger. But how can he be so bad when he calls me angel in a way that has me swooning and my mind going blank?

Tonight at 10, when Keigo and mom leave, I will sneak out and secretly meet Dabi. I will be pretty for him just like he asked, I’m not sure what will happen, what we will say or do, but I’m scared and thrilled to find out.

Dabi’s POV

9:30pm. Putting on a hoodie and zipping up my jacket, I head out, barely noticeable by the common folks or heroes walking down the street. For sure I could’ve put on somethin’ better to meet my angel tonight, but I can’t risk getting seen by people. That would be a real pain in the ass.

As I’m heading near her neighbourhood, I stop in my traces.

I should’ve gotten her something, fuck..

Going to a flowershop nearby, I manage to steal a pretty blue rose outside, without the lady inside noticing. It’s nothing much, but once we.. establish things, I will get my angel whatever she wants and more.

Her house is now visible, the area around it dark and quiet as the clock hits 10. The supermarket is nearby, I take my sweet time to see if anyone is around before walking further.

My slow heavy footsteps echo in the empty alleyway behind the supermarket, and not too far away I see the figure of a person in front of me.

So you actually came huh..

I can’t hold back the grin that forms in my face as I look at her, sitting there nervously, checking her phone and looking left and right like some damsel in distress. Coming closer, I notice the short white dress she’s wearing, along with a jacket, her soft golden hair falling down her shoulders. Those pretty legs of hers make me bite my lip, thigh highs sticking nicely on the plush of her thighs that I want so much to sink my teeth in. She turns at me, nervously trying to figure out who I am and backing off a bit.

“Don’t panic, princess” I smirk, removing the hood revealing my dark spiky hair. “Unless you’ve already forgotten how I look like, that would really hurt me~”

“Dabi.. of course I couldn’t forget you” she replies, a smile forming on her lovely face.

“Is it just me or do you get prettier with each day that passes by, angel? Lemme have a look at you, do a lil’ twirl for me..”

She lets out a nervous laugh, rolling her eyes but even in the darkness I can tell she is blushing. My gaze never leaves her body as she does a small twirl, showing her pretty dress.

“Satisfied?”

“Very much” I grin. “Did you get all dolled up for me like this? M’flattered..”

“Ah please, that’s how I dress everyday” she says. “Don’t flatter yourself too much~”

It’s like everything around me vanishes while my eyes lay on her, nothing else matters right now. I grab her hand, pulling her closer towards me. My finger slowly traces her jawline, putting some hair behind her cute ears. Her eyes stare back at mine, it’s the same hypnotised look she gave me that day. It makes her look so.. submissive.

“Forgot to give you this” I whisper, before grabbing the rose and giving it to her. She lets out a small gasp, looking at the rose and smiling softly. Meanwhile I feel like vomiting, being such a gentleman and gifting roses to girls is making me cringe. I am definitely not this type of guy.

But as long as I can make her fall for me..

“Thank you Dabi… this is so pretty! I love blue roses”

“You do? I’ll make sure to leave more blue roses around you then” I pinch her cheek. “Let’s go for a walk now shall we?”

She nods excitedly, her small hand intertwining with mine as she leans on me the entire time. I ask her about her day and college, I let her ramble the whole time as we head towards an empty park nearby. Usually I get annoyed easily when people talk too much, but for some reason I can stand her.

Finding the perfect spot, I go and sit on a bench.

“C’mon.. let’s sit down for a bit”

She comes closer, but stops the moment she notices the other half of the bench was still damp from the rain earlier.

“There’s not enough dry space” she says. “Let’s find another be-”

I pat my thigh with my hand, suggesting for her to sit down. She furrows her eyebrows in confusion, before letting out a nervous laugh.

“No, Dabi. I am not sitting on your lap”

“Why not? It’s way more comfy than a nasty bench” I raise my eyebrow, giving her a seductive look.

“Y-Yeah but- wait!”

Without letting her finish her sentence I grab her hand and pull her down on my lap, her warmth already invading my body as I bring her closer to me. One hand goes around her waist to keep her steady, the other on top of her thighs. It’s like the breath leaves her lungs and all she does is stare in shock. I can’t help but chuckle. Her eyes start looking around, probably hoping nobody would be here to see us like this.

“What? You worried or somethin’?”

“No I just.. I don’t think this is okay” she mumbles nervously.

“You’re thinking too much..” I groan, squeezing her thigh. “Nothing’s bad about this. All the benches here are wet so I’m just doing favor here and giving ya some place to sit on”

We stay there in silence for a few seconds as I enjoy having her so close to me, on my lap. I can feel her ass pressed against my crotch, if she starts squirming or moving I don’t think I will handle myself anymore. Especially when she’s wearing this dress..

Such easy access. But I still wanna tear it off.

“You’re really tense, sweetheart” I caress her thigh gently, whispering in her ear. “Calm down will ya?”

“Y-Yeah sorry,” she gulps “It’s just that you’re really warm for some reason..”

“Mm warm.. that sure I am. Probably cuz’ of my quirk, can’t help it honestly”

She turns at me, her eyes full of curiosity. “Oh? I still don’t know what your quirk is, I forgot to ask earlier..and you already know mine though”

“I sure do” I gently tug on one of her white feathers, making her wings flutter. “Just look..”

The white feather is still on my hand as she focuses on what I’m about to do. My fingerstips light up, blue flames flickering and slowly burning up the feather. Her eyes widen in shock, and before the feather burns up completely I put the fire off. Due to the feathers being sensitive, she squirms on my lap and winces in discomfort.

“Sorry angel” I grin, giving the half burnt feather back to her. “Didn’t meant to hurt ya’”

“So your quirk is fire.. woah, and a blue one nonetheless!”

“More like cremation, but yeah. My blue flames are way hotter than the normal ones, y’gotta be careful around me dolly. Don’t flutter those pretty wings too much around me or I might get all hot n’ bothered.”

Her mouth falls slightly open. “Is this a threat?” she whispers, her eyes glued on me.

“It’s a promise” I get closer to her, our noses almost touching together. My fingertips tap on her thigh, getting slightly warmer but not hot enough to burn her. Just warm enough to let her feel it. Her breath hitches, as I bring her even closer towards me now, her tits pressing against my chest.

“Dabi..”

“Mmm” I hum, my face nuzzling in her neck as I take in her sweet scent.

“I-Is this why Keigo tells me to not approach you? I mean, your quirk.. and uhh.. as far as Keigo’s told me flames are our weakest point” she stutters.

“That makes sense. Those pretty wings would burn up on instant” I reply, my hand slowly going further, right under her dress. She puts hers on top, to prevent me from touching her inner thighs, but I do not stop. “Though this ain’t the reason baby, y’see Keigo also associates with Endeavor, and the old man also has fire quirk”

“O-Oh yeah you’re right, sorry that was a dumb assumption..” she scratches her head.

“But I gotta tell you though, your brother may be right at some point. You should not approach me whatsoever, but here you are in some dark empty park, and on my lap.”

I place both her arms on my shoulders. Poor angel is unsure about all of this but yet lets me go further, not sure if it’s from fear or the hidden desire.

“But why?” she whines impatiently to get an answer. “That’s what I wanna know”

My face is now inches away from hers,I feel my cock throbbing in my pants. My hardened bulge is making her squirm away from me but I hold her firmly, not letting her slide off my lap. Her pretty ass is warming me up just nicely, fuck I think I’m gonna cum in my pants.

“I don’t wanna scare you off, princess. To cut things short, I had to do some bad things y’see, or at least what this society considers bad, but for a greater purpose. I don’t want to bore you with my.. activities and ideologies right now”

“Bad things? I mean.. you can still tell me though,”she insists. “As long as you haven’t done something severe such as like.. killing people or so..”

Hah, about that…

I simply ignore her stubbornness, a sinister glint lingering in my eyes as I nuzzle my face back on her neck. My hot breath makes her skin crawl, as I start placing soft pecks, while my hand continues to caress and squeeze her thighs.

“D-Dabi wait-” she stutters, placing her hands on my chest and trying to push me away. I can see the way her chest moves, the way her breathing gets heavier when I place kisses on her jaw, then gently nibbling her earlobe. She squeezes her thighs together instantly, but my hand manages to spread them again as I continue to explore underneath her dress.

“Mmmh what is it baby..” I whisper, now placing open mouthed kisses on her neck, licking and biting her skin, to the point the softests gasps and whimpers escape her mouth.

“W-Wait- I think we’re rushing things..”

She is right, I might be rushing things, but I can’t fucking resist anymore. I grind my hardened bulge up against her ass slowly, while I grunt in her ear.

I can feel the heat of her clothed cunt. My hand reaches her inner thighs, gently grabbing and squeezing the soft flesh.

“Dabi- please..somebody might see. I don’t think we should do this- and not in public!”

“Fuck them all, princess. Mmnnh I just can’t get enough of you..”

She lets out a yelp as I proceed to leave a hickey on her neck, my very first mark on her.

“I think you like this” I smirk at her flushed face.

“I don’t know..” she mumbles shyly. Poor thing, unsure if this is the right or wrong thing to do.

“Has anyone made you feel like this before?” I say, my lips almost touching hers but I don’t lean in for a kiss yet.

“No.. I don’t think so..” she whispers.

“Good” I click my lips, my hand now harshly gripping her inner thigh, my fingers digging on her skin and my knuckles touching her clothed cunt. She lets out the lewdest whine I’ve ever heard.

“I’ll make ya see the damn stars..”

Bzzzt.

Her phone ringing startles her and I let out a low annoyed grunt.

Fuck baby, you just keep moving too much my cock is aching-

Her eyes widen in panic as she looks at the screen. It’s Hawks.

“Oh my god..” she gasps. “Why is he calling now?”

“Jus’ answer him” I say nonchalantly. This is in fact entertaining for me. “Don’t want him to ruin our moment..”

She takes in a deep breath before answering him. It’s funny how she tries to sound calm, as if she hadn’t snuck out to meet her brother’s villain friend.

“Y/N where are you? I’ve been ringing this doorbell for a while” I hear the hero’s voice through the phone.

“Keigo I’m sorry I- I thought you were out with mom?” she replies. I simply rest my head on her chest, holding myself from touching her tits. How fun would that be..

“Yes I am, but she forgot something home so I decided to fly back and get it. And I forgot the damn keys at the restaurant” he groans. “Just open the door, I can’t enter through the windows either they’re all closed”

“Okay but-”

“Baby you’re sweating” I whisper, grabbing her hand as if to reassure her everything will be alright. Though the excited smile on my face is anything but reassuring.

“Kei I’m- I’m not at home. I just.. had to go to the store for a bit.. I’ll be right back”

First there was silence on the other line. Her panicked eyes stare at me, and I nod in approval that she is doing well.

“Store? At this hour?! ” Hawks says. “Y/N.. it is almost 11, there are no stores nearby open at this hour.. and even if there was, a girl can’t just go out on her own so late. What if something happened to you? You know how many villains I fight daily?”

Tch, now he started scolding and being the protective big brother he is. Gimme a break.

“I know Keigo but I’m fine, really. Since I couldn’t find anything I’m just walking home now okay? I’ll be there in a minute”

I can hear Hawks letting out a sigh, and she quickly slides off my lap.

“Alright, but don’t start wandering aro-”

“Oh come on!” I groan, not caring if I was too loud. I grab her phone and hang up on him, and she looks at me shocked.

“Dabi!! He will kill me!! What if he heard you?!” she starts pacing around, anxiety clear on her face.

“I don’t think he heard me, but even if he did, must’ve been the wind,” I grin but she is clearly in no mood for jokes.

“I have to go- we can meet another time at a more appropriate hour okay?” she says, fixing her dress.

“So you do want to meet another time huh?” I say, grabbing her chin and placing a soft kiss on her cheek. “That makes me feel real happy, princess. Now go, before your brother starts looking around for you, we don’t want him to find us together~”

She gives me one last smile before running back home, I still follow after her to make sure she’s arrived safely. Don’t want any villain around to harrass her on her way.

I chuckle, fixing my pants and staring at the bulge, my cock still rock hard as I remember the warmth of her ass on top of me.

Tch. Need to do somethin’ about this quick.

Tags: @mostlyheinous @dabislittlebeaniebaby @touyalove @awalkingshame @dabihawksluva @syrenkitsune

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writingsfromhome · 2 months

Text

Dos and Don’ts of H Styles

A/N: this story was literally born out of the wifi incident happening to me. It was a weird experience lol but of course it inspired me to write a story around it. Basically you used to work for Harry as a PA and your life was hell. You bump into him in the present but before it unfolds we need to know what happened in the past.

Part 1 / 2 / 3 / 4

——————————————

I watch as Winnie types into her phone the number of the guy who’d just hit on her.

“And that’s with a y?” She looks up at him with doe eyes.

“Yea,” he falls for it. He was cute, and she worked a lot I didn’t blame her for taking who she could get. His accent also helped. “What’re you doin’ now?”

“Well,” her eyes slide to me. “Hanging with my girlfriend here.”

He nods at me and I smile, holding up the almost empty glass. “We were just about done for the night though.”

“We were?” Winnie checks in with me.

“Mhm,” I give her an encouraging nod.

Both Winnie and I were employed by musician-turned-actor Oretta Smith. Winnie was her nanny—or childcare companion as she called it, and I worked as Oretta’s executive assistant. It was full-time and demanding as hell but ever since Oretta had her first child a couple months back I’d gotten a lot more breathing room as she minimized her public life and stayed close to home.

This long weekend Oretta was staying with her in-laws and asked us to take it off. I’d already requested the weekend off knowing we were in London but being off at the same time as Winnie was impossible so we’d gone out to celebrate and let loose—9pm and only 2 drinks in, both of us had already started talking about the comfort of our beds. Until flirty dude came up to Winnie.

“What do you say?” Winnie’s new date asks her.

“Aw shucks alright,” Winnie flashes her beautiful smile and hops off the stool. I don’t even see her drop the bills onto the table as she hugs me goodbye and leaves until it’s too late. She’d covered for both of us. Well I’d get her back next time.

I finish the rest of my drink, eyes flicking to the reruns of tonight’s soccer game. This wasn’t the fanciest bar—it was quite homely compared to the ones Winnie and I often found ourselves at. But it was one I used to go to when I worked in London just over a year ago. Being back in the city, despite all the awful memories, pulled me towards the nostalgic comfort of it.

I remember the many dates with my now-ex, the random nights I’d actually get off, and drown myself in drink to forget about my awful employer. Or the birthday and milestone celebrations—especially the ones I started to miss near the end.

I consider walking the few streets over to my old flat. Coincidentally the job I’d gotten wasn’t far from home. The upside was that it made dealing with “emergency” texts from my employer a lot quicker but the downside was it grouped all the traumas I experienced in this beautiful city to a few blocks. I didn’t miss it.

I cut my memory lane rabbit-hole short and decide it was time to order an Uber and get out of here; I had an early train to catch tomorrow.

The bars on my phone flicker up and down as I open the app and continue to refresh it over and over. But my signal remains unstable.

“Stupid phone,” I mutter. I had to update my provider while I was here asap.

“‘Scuse me?” I wave down someone serving drinks. “Have you got wifi here?”

“Yep we do!” She smiles. “Name’s The Violinist and the password’s capital p….”

Her voice grows far away as my blood runs cold and I stare at the list of available wifi networks. I feel myself nod a thank you when she stops talking and she leaves taking the password with her while I’m stuck staring.

My networks:

🔗H’s iPhone

I want to duck down and run away, not spend another second around anything to do with that era of my life. But I also want to hunt him down and show him how much better I was doing after him, despite.

The second instinct wins. Kind of.

I don’t hide away. I scan the dimly lit room and try to spot the familiar head of hair but it’s on the third try that I spot him. And it’s probably because his hair is barely an inch long.

He must’ve cut it recently, I’m surprised. Him without his hair was like Harry Potter without his scar.

The feelings are instantaneous though. The loathing and the need to cry. My heart continues to race as I burn a hole into the side of his head.

He was the devil incarnate and I had thought about him for a second too long just now. And now here he was. What the fuck was a guy like him doing here?

I remember the awful times; the casually cruelty and the late nights he would make me work. His constant criticism. The way my life fell apart because of him. The way I could wring his neck with very little incentive at any given moment.

He had turned my whole life upside down. He ruined me.

Harry Styles wasn’t the sweetheart everyone painted him out to be.

And yet, a flash of a feeling, a fleeting memory I try to keep locked away pushes to the front of my mind.

“Fuck no,” I tell myself. There was no room for fondness when it came to the devil.

About 2 years ago:

I straighten out the blazer, wondering if I should be chic and roll the sleeves up a bit or just keep them down. My reflection shows a nervous mousy girl that’s trying too hard. I throw my hair into a ponytail instead and feel a more like myself. Just as the elevator doors ding open.

I’m in the penthouse suite I would be working out of for the next however long; it was my first day on the job and I was still sorting out my nervous to excited ratio.

After looking for months, I’d landed a PA gig for up-and-coming rockstar Harry Styles. It was a dream come true and everyone was ecstatic for me, most of all my boyfriend who’d helped me land the role.

My boyfriend, Grayson, was a personal trainer to a lot of big names and he’d been keeping his ear to the ground for me. We met a few years ago at the gym of course, I’d still been a student and he worked part-time at the student gym. Back then he was still working to get a better client list.

We’d clicked pretty quickly and Grayson, who was anything but shy, asked me out. Soon after he was telling me he had feelings for me and I’d felt them echo back the same. He was my biggest supporter and when I told him I wanted to take this career path seriously he’d been the first to show me what steps to take to get there.

My true dream was to become a publicist and work with celebrities, but fresh out of post-grad everyone told me I’d need to dive head first and get my hands dirty. And I’d have to do that by finding a PA role for a publicist or an industry person.

“Y/n?” My name interrupts my thoughts. It comes from a disembodied head peeking out from a doorway. “You are y/n right?”

“Yes!” I hurry over. “Nice to meet you.”

“Yes. I’m Mr. Styles’ exec assistant, I’m only here for the next,” he looks down at his watch. “Half hour perhaps? So let’s get you sorted before I head out.”

“Oh okay. Sure,” my ears ring, I was going to be alone on my first day. I didn’t even know he had an executive assistant. What was the difference between him and me? What if I screw up and this guy was part of the fallout plan? Shit. “Is Mr. Styles in?”

“Not at the moment, he’ll be in before noon. He has a few appointments this morning. Typically you’d be going with him but he left before you arrived so…next time. Make sure you get any paperwork he received from the appointments and file them in here-“ he points to a room with a filing cabinet. Like an actual cabinet. This was a tight ship. “You sound American. Are you American?”

“Yep,” I debate whether to tell him I stayed after doing my degree here but decide to keep the yapping to a minimum.

I continue following the EA—who I should get the name of, as he points out rooms and overlaps it with info about Mr. Styles’ schedule and routines. A lot of info. My brain felt like it was barely holding on.

I think about the man I was now working for, the one who came into the interview for a brief 10 minutes. Surely that laid-back guy wasn’t the anal mystery man I was getting all these instructions for.

The interview itself had gone pretty smoothly apart from the fact that I nervous-laughed a few times too many. I had gone silent when The Harry Styles had walked into the office. He’d sat beside me at the round table, slouching slightly and flashing me a reassuring smile—I had felt my shoulders dip down immediately.

“So it’s y/n right? I’m pronouncing that correctly?” He’d said in his perfectly charming accent.

“Yes, it’s so nice to meet you officially.” I had to tamp down every urge to gush over him. I was a professional. I was zen.

“So y/n,” he says my name so casually and yet I feel myself lean closer to hear him say it again. “I’ve seen a couple of you come in here for the PA role. What makes you different then?”

Think think, just be calm and think!

“Well I’m a very passionate person so I put my all into everything I do. That would include this job, and in turn you’d benefit by getting peace of mind knowing I’m tackling whatever behind the scenes items that need to get done to get you where you need to go.”

“Well said,” he says with a smile that says he knew he was very good looking. “Now trust is a big factor in this relationship.”

As he talks I forget his manager is even in this room. I’m swept up in the hazy green of his eyes.

“We’ve done the background checks and all that—right?” He looks to his manager who was interviewing me and gets a nod. “But how can you reassure me. My staff gets approached by the media daily for any info on me. What’s to say you don’t sell out.”

“I would never,” I didn’t even think of that being an option. “Confidentiality and trust is the biggest pillar of this role and I take it very seriously. You’re like, the biggest celeb of the last year but I know you’re also a person and I wouldn’t betray that. On a person level.”

“So even if you had a really bad day, say I had gotten you to do some impossible tasks. And you’re heading out head full of steam and you get approached by a reporter. £5k for an exclusive.”

I shake my head. “As tempting as it would be, professional ethics reign over any of that.”

“I believe you y/n,” his eyes flicker down to my file. “Good references. We’ll be in touch.”

Now my eyes roam around the small room I’m meant to work out of. It’s the size of 1.5 supply closets with half the walls filled with shelves and cabinets. There’s a small desk but I wasn’t sure how often I’d be sitting at it. All the PAs I’d ever connected with always complained about the amount of time you spend on your feet. That’s why I’d opted to buy myself runners when I got the job.

“Any questions—mind you I have 1 minute for them before I’m off? There’s a suit I have to sort out.” The EA turns to me when we circle back to my office/supply closet.

“Oh,” a million race through my mind. Nothing that would fit in a minute. “I um, I guess I didn’t catch your name?”

He seems surprised at that, and then he laughs. “Oh you’re a doll. This place is gonna eat you alive. I’m Riley and tip for you—don’t be so eager to please. Do your job. Do it well. But you’re not here to be liked or make friends alright?”

He laughs again when he looks at my face. He hands me an iphone and tells me it’s programmed with everything and everyone I needed, then waves goodbye leaving me in a confused spot.

I wasn’t naïve, I knew what working in this industry was like but I was could swear I’d landed a good gig with Harry Styles. And meeting the man himself in the interview had confirmed it.

Maybe Riley was just jaded by too many long hours.

My phone vibrates in my pocket. A text from Grayson: good luck on your first day babe. let me know how it goes.

I only have time to heart it when I hear the elevator open in the foyer. I rush out just for Harry to brush past me and his manager following, chattering away about something.

I follow from behind and watch as he heads to the kitchen. Riley had shown me what he laid out on the island and how I should do it going forward. And like two magnets Harry reaches for the exact bottle Riley mentioned. He downs the smoothie and then collapses onto the barstool.

“But don’t forget what she was saying about the single needing to be global. Sure your fanbase would love it but would the people who hate you have to admit it’s good.”

“I make it for my fans not for the wankers that hate me,” Harry says and his voice is rich like caramel.

“You know what we mean.” His manager suddenly turns directly to me. “Can you contact the studio and let them know to push Harry’s 1pm to 3?”

“Oh,” I didn’t even know they knew I was here. They gave no acknowledgement until now. “Of course. Um, could I just get the paperwork from this morning too? The appoint-“

“Yep,” his manager unhauls the items in his hands. The whole time Harry stares out the window. I’m handed a stack of papers and I carry them to the office.

My hands are shaking when I put them down and I feel a lump in my throat. What was wrong with me? Why was I reacting this way?

I find the studio contact in the phone Riley gave me and let them know. They’re suspicious at first but accept the reschedule. I leave the paperwork for later, figuring I might be needed now.

But the rest of the morning I’m unacknowledged save by a few requests from Harry’s manager. I spend some time looking through the calender in the phone that’s pre-programmed with Harry’s entire life. It’s packed except for this Sunday. I wonder if it was actually free or just hidden from me since it was my one day off.

“You’ve got a passport haven’t you…?” It’s the first time Harry’s spoken to me. He’s changed into a hoodie and shorts, his manager is nowhere to be seen, and I’ve just bitten into a granola bar—the first thing I’d had since my morning coffee.

“Y/n.” I try to swallow the bite whole but at the last minute push it to the side to try to answer. “Erm yeah. I haven’t got it on me though.”

“Right. Y/n. Start carrying it. I’ll need you with me on Thursday I have a morning meeting in Léon and since Riley’s going to be sorting out something for my New York trip in a couple weeks he can’t make it.”

“Yes. I will. Do you need me to prepare anything else for the trip? I’m not sure if you’ve packed or-“

“It’s just a meeting.” He cuts me off. He pulls out his phone, dismissing me.

I swallow the knot in my throat once more.

I go with Harry to the studio since his manager is meeting us there. Alone in the car with him, the silence feels stuffy.

“I never got the opportunity to say thank you by the way,” I try to open up a conversation. All he was doing was looking out the window surely I wasn’t interrupting anything.

“What?” He stares right through me.

“Um, I’m just saying thank you. For the job.”

He nods.

I stay silent for the rest of the ride.

The studio is quiet, which makes sense when I think about it but upon entering an actual room I change my mind. The noise assaults my ears and I nearly jump at the volume but my hand gripping the doorknob keeps me in place.

People swarm around Harry.

“I need my tablet and my notebook,” Harry says amidst the small chaos.

What the fucks was he talking about. “Sorry?”

“My tablet and notebook,” His face darkens and so does my mood. Nobody told me! But maybe I should’ve asked oh my god.

“I don’t have it,” I say lamely.

“Any time I’m in the studio I need those two things. You need to get me my tablet and my notebook.” He speaks like a robot.

“I-I’ll head back,” I get my bag again. “Tablet and notebook, is there anything else?”

He looks angrier than I thought. He sticks his hands in his pocket, shuffles something in his hand before handing it over. “You may as well get lunch. Keep that card on you for business costs.”

I open my mouth to ask what he might want but he turns away as soon as I take the card and I’ve already fucked up royally so I decide to wing it.

In the car I consider googling what Harry Styles ate for lunch and instead will the ever living shit out of myself not to cry.

I scroll through the phone, debating if calling Riley for help would be a mistake. Going through every app for help I realize the countless notes in the app.

Morning Routines, says one. It lists things I should do when the mornings were spent at home, in studio, abroad, in a hotel, or if I walk into a “morning-after” morning. Jeez.

Another has checklists for what to do when travelling, how-to for routine appointments I should be booking, routine people I should be calling.

Why didn’t I look at this before. Right there is one called Studio Days and in bold it says what to bring.

I was an idiot. A big fat idiot.

I try my luck and search lunch. Sure enough a note with possible lunch places in cities across the world pops up.

It was a How-to guide for Mr. Styles.

Whoever put this shit together was an angel. I owed them my life.

I decide to be proactive, sorting lunch out to be delivered to the studio while the car drops me off. I run to the room Riley had said was the home studio. Sure enough I spot the tablet and a few notebooks, I grab all 3. I also grab the charger and ignore the bag of weed chilling on the arm of the chair.

What to do when he’s too drunk / What to do for Interview Days / What to do when he won’t answer the door or the phone / Day-off checklist / Social media checklist.

The dos and don’ts go on and on as I scroll through on the ride back. This was going to be my homework and by the end of the week I was gonna be a genius.

I swipe away and check if I had missed any folders containing precious info. Just the trash.

Out of curiosity I open it and there’s only 1 sitting inside: the donts of working for Harry Styles

I open it:

-don’t let one nice day fool you into forgetting he’s an arse and your employer

-don’t expect any gratitude from a narcissist

-don’t fall for his charm

-don’t shit where you sleep. no matter how tempting

-when he pisses you off which he will, don’t mouth off. what happens next is worse than being fired. which he won’t do because he’s the devil and he will want to keep you around after treating you like shite

-don’t think he’s chill. he’s anything but. follow the checklists and the rules.

-don’t have a life. actually this is a CAN’T. YOU CAN’T HAVE A LIFE WORKING FOR THE DEVIL. LEAVE AS QUICKLY AS YOU CAN UNLESS YOU HATE YOURSELF

I close the phone immediately, my heart thumping in my chest like a steady bass in the background of a song. What the hell did I get myself into.

***

It’s 8pm by the time I head back with Harry. The car is once again silent.

I had spent the day reviewing emails and the checklists, fielding calls and texts. His personal chef had texted to tell me dinner was prepared and in the oven to be re-heated so I figure that’s the last thing I’d do before I head home.

I’d eaten lunch standing while watching Harry sing background vocals to the album he was working on. It was hard to deny how intoxicating it was to see such a talented man work his magic. And it really was magical seeing how a song got put together.

That is until he’d sent me to get tea for the room and I’d nearly spilled half of it on myself getting enough back to the room. I was getting an electric kettle next.

I made a new note then: Reminders to do so you don’t get fired

The notes were my saving grace.

“My head is killing me,” Harry groans.

What to carry at all times: #4 paracetamol and #2 water

Checkmarked after going to the pharmacy while he was in the studio. I’d created an emergency makeup bag with essentials I could throw in my tote. I considered it a win today.

I hand the painkillers to him and he seems surprised. He replaces them with his phone.

“I don’t want to look at a screen for the rest of the night.”

“Okay.” I leave his phone beside me and try not to think of everything on it.

It vibrates a few minutes later and I leave it, not wanting to invade his privacy but he glances at me.

“Well?”

“Oh!” I lift it but it’s locked.

“1021.”

I type it in. “Um, Jeff wants to know if you’re still at the studio-“

“Reply to him.”

I do as I’m told.

“Um Mitch wants to know if you’re-“

“If it’s scheduling questions you can probably answer them without bothering me about it.”

I look up and he’s tipped his head back, eyes closed. Right. Of course I could.

I go through his schedule and find his studio time on Friday and relay it to Mitch. I respond to another text from someone asking if he was going to a gala in a couple months—his schedule said he was in LA so no. I wondered if I would also be in LA in a couple months. I wonder what Grayson would think.

Grayson, I’d had a short call with him a few hours ago and tried not to cry hearing his voice. It felt like home when the whole day felt so foreign.

I stare at the final text. The contact photo is the side profile of a gorgeous woman.

“Kimberly wants to know if you want um,” I feel my cheeks burn. “If you’re inviting her in tonight because she has a party she really wants you to go to.”

“I can’t be arsed for a party I feel like shite.” Harry says, eyes still closed. “Tell her to be at mine after 10.”

“Ok.” I type the words with a racing heart. I remember the morning-after checklist for this exact scenario. It wasn’t going to be weird soon I guess.

I heat up dinner for Harry while he showers and leave letting him know what time I’d be in tomorrow. He doesn’t even say goodbye.

I get home around the time I reckon Kimberly gets to Harry’s. The first thing I do when I see Grayson is shed a waterfall and he holds my exhausted body tight against him.

“Are you sure you want to keep doing this?” He whispers to me in bed after a shower and sandwich—I couldn’t stomach anything more.

“I need this job Gray. It’s gotta get better.”

“I reckon but it’s a steep learning curve,” he says as he traces the curve of my nose.

“I know,” I snuggle closer to him and yawn. I don’t know what he says next as I tip into sleep.

***

If the notes app manual with the dos and donts of being Harry Styles’ PA was a physical thing, imagine me swallowing it.

Every spare second I had—which I didn’t get a lot of, I was reading that thing. My fingers searched tirelessly before every scheduled and unscheduled event. And yet, I’d fucked up so many times.

It was Saturday and I was looking forward to my day off.

He had been hot and cold all week but ever since getting back from Léon he’d been nicer and I’d actually been getting home before 8.

Maybe things were going well, despite the fact that the learning curve was like climbing mount everest.

“What’s my morning look like?” Harry asks. I was sitting at his kitchen table trying to book a dinner for him next week with a friend that was in town. A friend who also happened to be big back where I was from—I hoped to catch a glimpse of her myself.

I glance up and look back down just as quickly. After a week of seeing Harry in all sorts of undress I should be used to it, but my face still flushes. Today he stands at the table in running shorts.

“Pulling it up,” I say and scan his schedule even though I had it memorized. “You’ve got a meeting at the bank in about 40 minutes and lunch with Michael.”

“Can’t my accountant take the bank meeting?”

“She’ll be there. She’s meeting you downstairs to discuss the meeting on the ride over. You need to sign off on some stuff.”

“Stuff,” Harry repeats.

I look at him, careful to train my eyes on his face. I couldn’t tell if he was annoyed at my lack of elaboration or just teasing me.

“Documents.” I correct, still unable to tell.

He look amused. “Great. Documents. I thought I’d be signing body parts.”

Was he joking? He was joking…I think.

“Right. No, we’re saving that for the tattoo shop booked for 6.”

He raises his brows, a slow smile spreading across his face and like the sun coasting over the horizon he looks brighter and prettier.

“That’s mad, that people would get a random man’s signature tattooed on them isn’t it?”

It’s inevitable really, my eyes skim over his torso brimming with tattoos. He notices and laughs. It’s a wonderful laugh.

“I meant they don’t really know me.”

“They admire you and it’s a piece of you,” I shrug. “At least it’s not a portrait of your face.”

“I’ve seen that floating around the internet actually.”

“Really?!” Now that was mad. I pull it up on the laptop and cover my mouth.

“I know.” He hangs his head and we laugh. God, things were finally getting better. This was the kind of relationship I thought Harry would have with his PA.

I scroll through comments and it’s impossible to wipe the smile off my face. I’ve considered myself a fan for a lot of artists but tattooing their face…that was another level of commitment I couldn’t do.

I look back to Harry who has grown quiet. His eyes are on me.

“What happened to your blazers?”

I’d decided to wear a skirt today, it was my lucky skirt—the one I had been wearing when I got the call that the job was mine. It being the last work day of the week I thought it might make me feel good.

I’d paired it with a tank top and a comfy cardigan. I’d finally felt like myself compared to all the button ups and blazers I’d been parading in. But apparently Harry had noticed the wardrobe difference. Shocker because he barely acknowledged me this week.

“I thought I’d dress for a Saturday?” It comes out meeker than I’d hoped. Ugh. “I hope that’s alright. If you want me more professional-“

“That’s alright,” his eyes roam down my body and I feel hot all over. Oh god, I shouldn’t have worn this. “It looks good.”

“Thanks,” I cross my cardigan over my body and try to get back to work but he doesn’t let it end there.

“Did you make that yourself?”

He continues to surprise me, “I did actually, is it obvious?”

“Yeah there’s a big hole down the back,” he teases. I know he is because his eyes are smiling, light.

“Damnit,” I relax a little. He was only interested in the sweater. “I’d finished it late it looked okay in the dark.”

“I have a friend, she made one of those for me. With the patches. Very comfortable.” He’s weirdly intense while looking at me and I feel like squirming again.

“It is. Very stretchy.” My vocabulary seems to shrink.

He leans over to touch the fabric and I feel like a cactus has been stabbed into my neck, I feel hot and prickly. Jeez, I had to chill out. My employer was just interested in my sweater. Super interested. Maybe I should just give him the damn thing. It would definitely fit him.

“Wool,” he smiles. He’s basically perched above me and I think I’m going to have a heart attack. I went from complaining about the fact that he acted like I wasn’t in any room he was in to not even being able to hold a conversation when he did.

I’m caught looking up into his unfairly gorgeous eyes and he looks at me like I’m the only person in the room. Which I was in this instance, but still.

I’m saved by a loud voice coming out of the elevator.

“Harry you car is waiting downstairs.”

Like a book slammed shut, his expression retreats until all that’s left is the cover page with no summary. The friendly Harry from before is gone.

“Oi Harry! I had to come all the way upstairs because I’ve been sitting in that stupid car waiting! Do you not pick up your phone?”

“Lee,” Harry says as he walks across his living room. “If you can’t reach me you call my PA I’ve told you a million times.”

“And I’ve told you a million times not to keep me waiting. We have a lot to cover before we get to this meeting and I need every minute. God why are you shirtless go put on something appropriate!”

Harry miraculously does as he’s told—given I had already laid out an outfit for him. He’s ready in no time. His accountant, Lee? Simply smiles at me and goes back to typing on her phone while we wait.

“Why is that so wrinkled?” Lee judges Harry who walks out in a completely different outfit.

“I don’t have time to change again do I?” Harry bristles.

Lee looks over at me and I’m not sure if she’s accusing me of something or looking for support.

“Mr. Styles I did leave an outfit out for the m-“

“I don’t wear silk.” He cuts me off and walks out ahead. Lee shrugs my way and follows him. I trail behind, feeling worse than ever.

For a miserable hour and a half I sit in one of the most uncomfortable chairs of my life, organizing Harry’s life while I wait for his meeting to end. As hard as I try to concentrate, I keep agonizing over what I might have done wrong to flick his switch. I swear things were going better. And I know I’ve seen him in silk before. Why the hell else would it be in his closet? Why couldn’t I go a single day without screwing up?

I finally spot Harry walking out of the office and gather my things quickly to meet him. I trail behind as we walk down the hall into the lobby, Lee is nowhere to be seen.

A gasp catches my attention and suddenly a girl younger than me rushes up to Harry.

“Oh my…Harry Styles?”

Harry’s face morphs briefly into annoyance, his gaze flicking my way, before pasting on a smile for the girl.

What to do when a fan approaches H (in the wrong moment): be the bad guy, divert, get Harry to wherever he needs to go to and do it quick.

“Hi,” Harry smiles sweetly at her and the friendliness throws me off guard. But this was unexpected and I should get him away…I think.

“Oh my god could I get a picture? My mate is never going to believe this. She loves you so much, so do I-“

“We really have to be going.” I say and the girl looks at me, surprised to find me there. I look around and spot and older woman watching us. Must be her mum.

“Could I just get a picture?” She glances between us.

“I don’t think Mr-“

“It’s fine,” Harry hands me her phone. “Get a photo of us.”

Just another layer of humiliation to add to the rest of the day. The rest of the week. God was I just awful at reading cues?

I snap a couple and then we’re walking free.

He doesn’t say anything. The car ride to his lunch date is spent in awkward fucking silence and I hate myself more with every second I spend in it.

When the car stops at his destination he holds his hand up when I go to open the door for him.

“Listen -what's your name again?" He asks.

Shame and humiliation drip over me like blood on Carrie’s prom night. I repeat it for him. Just like I had daily since I was hired.

“Right. Y/n. You came highly recommended from a friend so I trust you know how to do this job. This job, is to keep my life organized and keep me on track. Make sure I'm not distracted or side tracked by anyone. Including you. It’s not to be my publicist or my fashion advisor or my personal security. Let's stick to the job description okay?"

His words land bitterly to my ears. Not personal. Just a job. Just a job. Just a fucking job. And yet it was starting to feel like my whole life.

“Yes of course.” I hear myself mumble. And like the big clown I had to be, I push open the door and get out so he can too. He walks to the restaurant without a goodbye and I crawl into the car, heading back to his place. Tears burn my eyes but I refuse to let them out. Refuse to admit just how badly this job hurt.

***

“I’m not doing this on purpose,” I hiss into the phone. “You know I’d be there right now if I could!”

“Babe I get it’s your job but you haven’t come to anything in over a month since you started your job!”

“That’s unfair,” I cup my hand over my mouth. “Gray c’mon I’m going to be there just late.”

“That’s what you said last weekend.”

Last weekend, one of our good friends invited a few friends for dinner in their new place and Greyson had had to go alone. Everyone had messaged me to say I was missed but Gray had been stony, pretended to be asleep when I got home and then given me the silent treatment until I wore him down the next day. It was exhausting begging for affection.

“It’s my job Grey I don’t know what else to tell you.”

“Me neither, you know my parents want us over for weekend roast some time but I’ve been avoiding giving them a date because I don’t want you to stand them up.”

“I-“ a shadow shifts in the corner of my eyes and I look up. Harry stands in the doorway. “I have to go we’ll talk later.”

“Whatever y/n,” Grey hangs up and my chest squeezes with all the hurt I was causing. But he saw the state I’d been in since I started this job a month ago and he knows this is just my life right now. Why was he suddenly acting like it was brand new information?

“Are you done your personal call?” Harry asks. He hovers in the doorway, I’d never actually seen him in this little office space. Then again, if he did step in there wouldn’t be much room for either of us to walk around each other.

“Sorry,” I hate myself for apologizing. Here and everywhere else in my life. But I have no other choice. “Can I do anything for you?”

“When are you heading out tonight?” He asks. His eyes glued to my face. I know my eyes are teary and I try to blink it away.

“Um, soon. In an hour or so,” blink blink blink. “Did you need anything from me before then?”

“Yes, I have a friend coming over tonight. Can you order us something for dinner. Something light. And get a bottle to chill for us—champagne. And can you push Monday’s cleaning service to tomorrow afternoon?”

“Consider it done.” I tell him, hoping he would just leave me alone in the dark here.

“Do you have evening plans?” He continues. Why did he never ignore me when I wanted him to!?

“Kind of yeah,” I try to keep it short. “A birthday.”

It was Grayson’s sister’s birthday. She had invited us to a local fave called The Violinist and of course I would only make it to the dessert course if I was lucky. These days, making it to dinner at all was a luxury. I lived off of sparkling water, leftovers, and coffee.

“Well best to finish up what you’re doing so you can head out.”

He leaves and I’m annoyed. Why couldn’t he be nice and just tell me to leave after doing what he asked. But here I sit folding fucking pamphlets for some idiotic pledge he had signed on for. Fuck me.

I’m miserable by the time I leave. I’d managed to finish everything in a half hour so I’d touched up my makeup and changed into a simple dress I had kept in the office closet on Riley’s suggestion.

“A simple black number that could be used for any last minute event.” He’d said. Unfortunately that now counted for personal events too.

“G’night Mr. Styles.” I call out as I walk to the foyer, just so he knows I was going out earlier than I said.

“G’night,” he answers surprisingly. He always ignored me but tonight he sits on the couch. He rises to see me off but I notice him pause and take in my outfit. “Fun night?”

“I hope so.” I unfold the blazer in my hand, suddenly wanting to disappear with his gaze on me.

His long legs walk to me and he takes the blazer I’m fidgeting with from my hands. He actually holds it open and if I wasn’t this exhausted my jaw would definitely be on the floor.

“Oh. Thank you,” I slip it on and turn to face him. As if helping me put it on wasn’t surprising enough, he proceeds to untuck my hair from the blazer.

“That’s alright,” he says in a low seductive tone. “You look nice. Are you dressed up for someone?”

The question is dangerous, toeing a line I’m not sure I want to erase. I try to ease things with a joke. “The birthday girl I guess.”

“A friend?”

“My fiancé’s younger sister.”

Was it just me, or does he bristle when I mentioned my fiancé?

“I didn’t know you were engaged,” he mumbles, glancing down at my hand. I wore a number of rings and I guess the small diamond Grayson had proposed with back when it was the most he could afford, blended in.

“Yeah, nearly a year now.”

“Wow,” he crosses his arms. “Have a date set?”

“Not exactly,” I smooth my hair behind my ears. “We’re thinking next year but we’ve just been so busy with out schedules-“

“What does he do?”

“He’s a personal trainer,” I say proudly.

“Oh,” Harry tilts his head back. “Oh. Now I understand. Now I get the connection. My mate Liam put in a good word for you when I needed a new PA, he said he knew you through his personal trainer. He never mentioned how.”

“I see,” I’d have to thank Liam next time I saw him. He’d been one of Grayson’s first big clients and had become a close friend to us. I’d have to thank him with dinner. If I got any nights off, that is.

“That’s who you were talking to on your personal call?” He asks, his hand tracing my shoulder seam down to my elbow. My heart races from the ghost of his touch.

“Erm yeah, sorry again. I had to take it since it was time sensitive.”

“Best to get going then.”

I take a step backwards and then rush to the elevator all at once. Once I’m on and the doors start to close I turn and catch a glimpse of his handsome face watching me go.

I let out a breath. That was weirdly heavy. And kind of intimate. But weird. That was weird.

I wonder briefly who he was having over tonight. If it was Kimberly, who I’d had the misfortune of meeting in her panties one morning. Or his other “friend” some brunette named Maya or Amaya something. I’d had the misfortune of meeting her when I dropped off a late package to Harry one evening. All were awkward encounters.

I shake away the thoughts and am grateful when Harry’s driver waves me down on the sidewalk. I guess Harry had told him to take me to where I needed to go. My heart is warmed ever so slightly, although I do accidentally nap on the 15 minute drive over.

I make it for the end of dinner and Gray looks relieved to see me even though his eyes hold a hint of something unspoken. I try to ignore it tonight.

“Oh you look beautiful!” I hug the birthday girl, and we sway from side to side. I used to see her a lot before she moved away for uni. “When did you stop being a baby, Josie Duran let me get a look at you.”

“Josefina tell her what you did for your 21st.” Gray says.

“Can you let it go!?” Josie scowls.

“What?” I whisper.

“Mom will kill you,” Gray warns.

“That’s why she doesn’t have to know,” Josie bites.

“Hey,” I put my hands up between the two. “No fighting with the birthday girl. Anyway. Josie, you look beautiful, I’m so sorry I’m late but it’s so good to be here.”

“Aw no don’t worry about it,” she goes in for another quick hug. “I’m just happy you got to come. Gray said the bloke you work for is a nightmare. Tell us do we know him?”

“Ah,” I wasn’t really supposed to talk about him according to my nda. “I dunno if you would. Anyway I’m going to try to steal some of Gray’s leftovers until dessert comes.”

I sit beside Gray where the seat had been left empty and smile up at him, hoping for forgiveness. He sighs and kisses my forehead, pushing his plate towards me.

“Go ahead, have you eaten?”

I had a banana and a yoghurt for lunch but I don’t tell him, just making a vague answer for yes and scarfing down what’s left.

“She got a tattoo,” he says in my ear later as the restaurant finishes singing happy birthday and a cake with sparklers is set down. He’d gotten tipsy and I can tell because he wants to talk about his upsets.

“She’s a grown woman Gray,” I know he was protective and a little traditional—that’s where half of their sibling fights originated, but I always told him he had to let loose a little. “She’s allowed to get it. If I remember you have some tattoos of your own.”

“It’s different y/n.”

“She’s getting older faster than we can keep up with huh?” I lean my head against Gray’s shoulder and let out a big sigh. It feels good, sitting with him here surrounded by friends. It had been a while.

Gray leans his head against mine and doesn’t answer. We watch her friends take pictures like proud parents, watching her cut and then distribute the cake. I should help, but I just could not lift a finger.

“Hey y/n, is that your phone going off?” Josie’s friend beside me points to my facedown phone.

“Is it?” I sit up, my heart doing a number in my chest.

I pick it up, 2 missed calls from Harry and 3 texts. Fuck.

“Leave it,” Gray must be looking over my shoulder. “You’ve gone home now just screw him.”

“I can’t,” I didn’t want Gray getting mad—I know he was kinda drunk and he could make a scene like this. I didn’t want to ruin Josie’s celebration. But I couldn’t ignore this. This is the first time Harry’s messaged me after I’ve gone home. “I’ll take it outside.”

On my way to the door I open the messages. A picture of a bucket filled with ice. A row of question marks. And then: call me

What? What was so urgent about a bucket of-

Oh.

Fuck.

I thought I did everything but I hadn’t. I’d filled the bucket with ice and meant to ask the Italian restaurant around the corner to deliver a bottle like they usually did for Harry but I hadn’t gotten to that part.

I feel like I’m going to vomit any dinner I just had.

I crouch down. Do I call him? Do I pretend I didn’t see this until too late? No. I had to face up. I fucked up.

Deep breaths. Deep breaths.

I call with shaking hands but it rings and rings and goes straight to voicemail. I try again.

I had to get back, get him the champagne. Fix my mistake.

“Y/N,” Grayson’s suddenly outside. “Aren’t you coming back in?”

“I can’t. I…” how do I explain this to my fiancé without it sounding minor as hell. “I forgot to mail some important documents and I need to get back-“

“It’s Saturday fucking night.”

“Yeah but-“

“And guess what?! Tomorrow’s Sunday! The mail’s going nowhere! Fuck that wanker and come back in.”

Gray holds out his arms and I want to go back in but I need to fix this mistake.

I grasp his hand and he smiles, misunderstanding why I held it, “Gray I have to go-“

He pulls his hand away, a sneer on his face. It hurts when he looks at me that way, like I betrayed him.

“I showed up! I celebrated, I got here Gray I just have to-“

“You were barely here! Do you know how upset she was when I said you couldn’t make it?”

“Well why did you say that!?” I demand. “I told you I was only going to be late!”

“I can’t trust that!” He shouts and I try to pull his arm so he quiets but he doesn’t seem to care there are people around. “Your time is all his, every single fucking second! And when you’re not there your brain is going a million bajillion times over about him and his life. Even when you’re with me! What the fuck! What’s up with that!?”

“Gray I’m sorry look I’ll make it up to you tomorrow. I swear. I’ll make it up to your sister I-“

“I don’t care y/n,” Gray slips his arm out of my grasp. “Do whatever you want. Nothing I say matters anymore anyway right?”

“Gray,” tears streak my face as I watch the man I love go back inside without another look my way.

Fuck Harry.

I try to call him again but voicemail. Again. Fuck!

What to do when you make a mistake: admit to it—Harry appreciates accountability. FIX IT! As much as you can. FIX YOUR MISTAKES OR FACE CONSEQUENCES.

An alert that my uber was here pings my phone—I take the ride to the restaurant and grab an already chilled bottle. I book it to Harry’s building and ride the elevator up, every floor causing a further dip in my stomach.

The doors open to a dimly lit space. There’s music playing, something jazzy, and it smells like…vanilla? Vanilla roses?

“Hol-hold on,” I hear Harry chuckle. A head pops up from the other side of the sofa.

“Y/n?” He looks as confused as I am.

Oh my god, I realize as a giggle comes from the floor. They were on the fucking floor of the living room? They were on the floor of the living room f…what the fuck did I walk into?

“Just back with this,” I squeak, holding up the bottle.

“Harry did you invite someone else?” The voice asks from below with another laugh. He sighs, disappearing again. I hear a very distinct wet noise before he pops back up again, I look at the doors of the elevator trying even harder not to give in to the panic attack that was looking more and more tempting.

“What are you doing here?” Harry approaches me with a softened voice. Wearing a robe. A silk robe. I knew he wore silk.

“You called—the bottle I’m sorry it totally slipped my mind I-“

“I told you to call me?”

“I did, you didn’t pick up! I thought I should swing by-“

“I thought you had a party?” His forehead scrunches.

“I…” the pieces come together. Did I take this too seriously because Harry didn’t even look angry? Great. I was an idiot and proving to Harry I had no life. “It ended. Early. I…I wanted to fix my mistake and bring the bottle.”

He takes it from my hand, still confused. “Y/N.”

I wait for him to continue but he doesn’t. And lord, in this climate with him in just a robe hearing my name on his lips is not okay. I was going to pass out.

“I’ll leave.” I go back to the elevator but he starts talking again.

“I asked you to call me so I could ask-“ he stops when I turn back around to listen. He closes the gap between us again with a sigh, and I don’t realize my face was still streaked with tears. It was probably more noticeable in the elevator light. He takes his finger and swipes across my cheek, his brows furrowing.

“Sorry,” I swipe my cheek to remove the remaining evidence. “I’ll leave you to it.”

He clears his throat and takes a step back. “Thank you for coming back.”

I nod.

“If you’re going to leave early next time, make sure you finish everything I’ve asked you to do. Don’t skip out like this again.”

“Yes yeah of course,” I stutter, relieved to fit back into our usual roles. For a second there, I thought Harry was going to be kind. And that would have been way worse.

“Good night Y/N. See you Monday.”

“Good night Mr. Styles.”

Gray’s not home by the time I get back. I wake the next morning to his side untouched.

So I do the only thing that felt good these days, I curl up into a ball and cry.

***

Taglist - leave me a message if you’d like to join it :)

#harry styles fic #writingsfromhome #harry styles x reader #harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #asks #harry styles angst #harry styles series #musician!harry #dos and donts #ahhh #i didn’t edit this too much it all kind of came out at once #so ignore any errors #hope this is fun to read #it was fun to write

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pandorasfavorite · 1 month

Note

Kinky smut after reader acts like a brat on RAW

Influenced

AN: NOT ME WRITING REQUESTS FROM MONTHS AGO LMAO. Sorry lovelies.....

AN: I'll probably finish this...but I had to post something yo

Dominik wasn't a demanding boyfriend by any means, honestly, he was really kind and patient. He never asked much of you, so when he did you complied. You originally didn't have the desire to test Dominik's dominance ever, because he's already so good to you there's no need for him to prove anything. However, after falling into a rabbit hole on social media, you were influenced. There were hundred of posts and stories of women being "bratty" toward their sweet boyfriends. Each story ended well...

You were dressed up and ready to go interrupt the beginning of Monday Night Raw. Dominik was wearing his black gear (that drove you wild) and a shirt draped in front of his pants. From the moment you walked in the dressing room Dominik's expression lit up. His arms fell open and he completely neglected the conversation he was in before. You approach him and give him a quick hug and a peck on the lips. You are an inch apart from him, smiling up at him and grabbing his hands in yours. "Hey babe, you ready?", he looks over your outfit (his tongue slides over his lips quickly). You bat your eyelashes at him and hum as an answer.

You drop one of Dominik's hands and your eyes focus on the shirt that is hanging in front of his pants. It annoyed you a bit how he covered up the thing you liked looking at... you smack the shirt and it flies up. "Why are you wearing this?", you question him in a displeased voice. Dominik notices the attitude in your voice and you smacking the shirt was out of the blue -- even for you. Dominik furrows his eyebrows a bit at the behavior but lets it go un-noticed. He simply just grabs your hand in his and brings it to his mouth to kiss.

You pull the same hand out of his grasps again and you smack the shirt again, scowling at the useless thing. Being a brat was fairly easy when you had something to not like. This time though Dominik wasn't as happy, his face pulls into the sexy angry frown that shows so often on TV. He taps your cheek with his finger in order for you to look up at him, "Stop that".

"Stop what?", you smack his shirt one more time, just cause. Dominik grabs your wrist lightly, pulling it away from the shirt. "You know what cut it out. I'm serious". You stop, for now, the best way to work his nerves is to continuously stay on top of this. To calm him down you lift up to kiss his lips, and his body relaxes instantly. His hand finds its way to the back of your head pulling you in for a deeper kiss that makes your stomach do flips. He pulls back with his boyish grin and holds your hand as he walks out the door with you.

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

It's important to note that Dominik (while he is very patient), he is a very jealous man. All his patience flies out of the window when the jealousy filters in. In fact, his jealousy is so bad some nights after Raw he has to push you up against the wall and shove his fingers inside of you just to hear you moan his name. You were going to take advantage of that weakness to get what you want, after all it's the easiest way.

All 5 of you step out into the darkness with your heads down, then the lights turn on. Every night you fight the urge to squint your eyes from the blinding light. Dominik's arm is around your waist and he takes you with him, every step of the way. It was a 3 v 3 match with the boys against another group of three. You and Rhea were positioned outside of the ring to make an appearance and distract the ref if it came down to that. As the match started so did your bratty behavior...

One of the opponents was looking at you from his spot on the outside of the ropes, you waved to him with a seductive smile. Dominik watched the interaction and his face was downcast in anger, so much so his knuckles were turning white from the grip he had on the ropes. His eyes followed you as you skipped around the ring, and interacted with fans in the front row. You were always the most friendly out of all the members of the group.

Again the same guy was watching you, sizing you up, and he went as far as motioning for you to come up to him. Dominik is radiating heat and he is scowling without the desire to hide it, Damian notices the interaction and he instantly taps him in. Dominik walks around the ring and points to the guy that you were 'flirting' with. The rest was history. Dominik starts with the guy not letting up on any of his hits. You could tell even after the match was won and finished Dominik was righteously heated. He met you in the middle of the walk way and instantly thrown his arm over your shoulders, pulling you into his side so he could kiss your head while he was looking back at that stupid guy.

Though he may not seem all that mad to the blind eye, Dominik's clenched jaw and screwed-up face say otherwise. After a short goodbye the Judgement Day dispersed in different directions, leading to Dominik steering you into the Judgement Day dressing room that you know so well. He opens the door for you and then shuts and locks it behind him rather loudly. He runs a hand down his face before taking a step closer to you. Your chests are on the verge of touching and Dominik's hands are twitching as if he's itching to take action. But he'd never do anything without having a conversation first.

"What was that out there?", he takes a heavy breath trying to speak calmly towards you. "What do you mean?", you bat your eyelashes and feign innocence. Dominik's head tilts back and he chuckles at the blatant disregard for the obvious, "You know what you were doing out there, don't pretend you don't". His chest is puffed up and he's looking at you with such displeasure but his eyes say something different. His gaze is intense and makes your legs feel wobbly. Honestly, it's making you a bit nervous and it's intimidating in a way you didn't mind embracing, "I don't know what you're talking about" you squeak out.

Dominik acts fast; pulling right up against him by the belt loops. His lips are hovering just over yours and you can feel his deep breathing of frustration fanning across your cheeks. "Say it", he said in a deep raspy command, the words sent a shock down to your core. Your heart is racing out of your chest and if it wasn't for the desire you were feeling in that moment, Dominik would have to scoop you up off the floor. You raise your chin up in defiance at him, crossing your arms over your chest, "Make me".

Dominik's hands fly to your waist and he spins you around, pushing your body with the back of his to move you forward. He walks you over to the back of the couch and bends you over it by the waist. His hands then brush your hair to one side of your face, now he has a perfect view of your star-struck expression that he yearned for. Dominik leans in close to you, his teeth now poking out as he grins, "You've been a brat all fucking day", he recalls. He pulls your pants down to your mid-thighs, just enough for him to spread your legs a bit and slip two fingers inside of you.

The moment he pumps his fingers in and out of you, curling them inside of you every time your breathing picks up, you feel your legs shake. His fingers are soaking wet and knuckle deep inside of you, and the tent in his pants only gets more defined when he hears the squelch your pussy makes. Your wetness was beginning to drip down the side of your thighs and Dominik mentally had to block out the idea of getting on his knees and licking it up, so nothing goes to waste. You hum in delight at the increasing feeling that you loved approaching, Dominik noticed your tell tales and refused to hide the fact that he knew.

"You really think you're going to get to cum? After acting like a brat all day? Just because you wanted to be my cock slut". You gasped at the filthy words flying so carelessly from his mouth, but also from the way he spits directly on your cunt after pulling his fingers away. You try to reply but your words come up short as you feel his large hands sliding down the back of your thighs. His skilled hands pull your thighs apart even further so he can have room to bring his face directly against your pussy. The feeling of his nose bumping against your clit and his smile that you so clearly can point out has you moaning out to him, "Baby please- m'sorry". You gave in, being a brat was hard when your man knew how to please so well.

You feel the way he laughed and shook his head in disbelief, he completely ignores you and swipes his tongue through your puffy folds. His tongue thrusts inside of you, working out the tension of you clenching around him.

AN: when my writing is shit but I have to provide like a good mother..

#dominik mysterio smut #dominik mysterio x reader smut #dominik mysterio x you #dominik mysterio fanfiction #dom dom #dominik mysterio fluff #dominik mysterio x reader #dominik mysterio #dominik my bbg #wwe #dick me down

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etheries1015 · 4 months

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AYYE EITHERIES YOU'RE BACK

You're on the stan Lilia path I see? You are a person of culture as well. I was reading about myths and realized that the non-human immortals in Yuu's world is totally different from the faes aka the only non-human immortals in TWST because most of them either love or lust for humans. For example, I have heard that nine-tailed foxes seduce humans to drain their life force, youkais falling for humans, and in my country there are tons of stories where genies fell in love with humans. On the other hand, twst faes are like EWWW humans. Total opposites despite both having magic powers lmao.

Imagine the anti-human faes like general era Lilia, Sebek, and Baul with you, their close friend who's a powerful non-human immortal thing. You have great powers but what pisses them off IS THAT YOU ARE A HUMANSEXUAL 🤯👹😠🤬 Out of all fine faes you decided to flirt with HUMANS

Remember the distracted boyfriend meme years ago? The one where the guy is distracted and admiring the girl in red clothing while his gf is angry right next to him? That sums up your friendship dynamic with the anti-human fae.

I'M BAACKK yesss I am slowly turning into..like..A Lilia stan blog...BUAHAHA. I'm about ready to drop an ungodly amount of money for Lilia merch to fill my hyper fixation. Someone needs to shoot me and drag my corpse outside to touch some grass, or before I make some seriously problematic financial decisions.

I LIKE THAT HAHAHA Reader being a Yokai or succubus of somesort (because i'm hrny 24/7) and so infatuated with humans, being friends with Faes that have no interest in them is very interesting to you. Like. They are so cute when they wriggle around on their two legs with very little going on in their brains...it's less of love for humans, but more of...infatuation? Interest? Kind of like someone who enjoys reading mythology and going down a rabbit hole of mythical creatures they find fascinating.

Lilia- y/n. For a being incredibly talented in many aspects of martial arts and magical properties, I must say I am incredibly disappointed in your choice of whom you bring home at night.

Y/n - I have told you this time and time again, they are useful for replenishing my energy, Lilia! I don't understand what is with the fae of your world that hate humans so much. Aren't they cute? how they crawl around kind of like ants?

Lilia- That's...hmm. I do not agree with your stance, however...your analogy is kind of funny...

Baul, annoyed- I feel that this war should make it fairly obvious why we have such distaste for humans. Why don't you try another species? Beastmen, perhaps? Or even Fae? They have ample amount of magical energy you can also obtain from.

Y/n- that's like telling a meat eater to substitute chicken for chicken-flavored soy products. It just isn't the same! You two will never understand.

Baul, folding his arms- you're lucky you are aiding us in the war. Albiet at the price the shitty humans you like to mingle with despite your martial prowess.

Lilia- and that time you stopped mid battle simply to ask a human if they'd like to sleep with you.

Y/n, shrugging- don't knock it til' you try it

Lilia- ...i'll pass. Go shower, you smell like human stench.

Right to left;

Lilia, immortal/magic being Yuu, humans

HAHAHA thank you for this, it made me cackle

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland headcannons #baul twst #Lilia vanrouge #twst headcannons

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anchoeritic · 1 year

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「 𝐌𝐎𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐎 𝐀 𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐌𝐄. 」

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dbf!jake sully x fem!reader

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: eighteen plus content (18+), reader is tsu'tey & neytiri's daughter, age gap (9-10 years), clit play, rough-ish intercourse, vaginal intercourse, oral (em rec.), choking kink, praise kink, hair pulling, dacryphilia (crying kink), stomach bulging, vaginal fingering, overstimulation (fem.), multiple orgasms, possessive dominant jake, pet names: 'peach', 'honey', etc.

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: another lonely night leads to a sinful rendezvous with none other than your dad’s best friend: jake sully.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: this is an additional part to the series. pretty much apart of their backstory but i hope you all enjoy this piece that somewhat has plot. reblogs and feedback are always appreciated. ♡

"ONE STEP AT A TIME, PEACH, " Jake led you by the tip of your fingers, dragging you across the illuminated paths.

The plants surrounding your feet slowly lit up one by one, following shortly after each step. Smaller creatures from behind the bushes were peeking out, intrigued by the sudden light fixtures.

You skipped over the rocks with ease, laughing your way across the river hand in hand with Jake. He looked back at you with the biggest smile on his face, wondering how lucky he was to finally have you in his arms at last.

Never in a million years did you expect to fall in love with Jake Sully. He was an avatar, dream walker, Toruk Makto. Most of all, he was your father's long-time friend. Their history was a bit complicated to start out, that's all you knew.

But, it's not a problem if no one finds out about it.

The moon above the two of you shined down, especially spotlighting you in your true beauty. You are in your truest happiness with the love of your life.

"Slow down!" Each step you took, the farther you fell down the rabbit hole of love, letting it consume you entirely. Anything that had to do with him was your way to go. "Jake--"

Suddenly stopped by a pair of arms around your waist, you found yourself laying under the leaves of a home tree, Jake right on top of you holding you down on the floor. You could never grow tired of this sight.

"Hi, sweet girl," he tries to flirt, "I missed you."

His hands are inching further down your body, caressing your curves, exploring his way around those familiar spots.

A low groan could be heard from him as his hand slipped between your thighs, cupping your wet cunt.

"Fuck," licking his lips, "haven't even done anything."

Soft whines left your throat feeling his fingers play around with your arousal through the thin fabric, his lengthy digit pushing it aside to make room for him.

The cold winds of Pandora hit your naked core, sending shivers down your spine. The smell of your arousal filled the air, nearly sending Jake manic at the pure thought of just tasting you.

"Mm, need you," you cry out, spreading your thighs a little wider for more access. "Missed you s'much. You don't even know."

"Tell me more, baby," he whispered.

You felt yourself get wetter thinking about the nights you spent fantasizing about him when he wasn't there; remembering how his tongue felt licking between your folds, sucking on your clit. "had me touching myself thinkin' about you between my thighs. Wish you were there instead of my fingers."

Or how his hands would wrap around your throat, choking you out until you started crying. The best memory would be his cock stretching out your pussy. "Thought about you fucking me with no mercy, Jake," you whined.

"Give it to me, please."

Taking his hand out from between your legs, he licked those same fingers clean of your wetness, sure to not waste any before he devours you whole.

Shuffling lower, he was at eye level with your clothed cunt. Without a second thought, his fingers ripped the fabric of your panties apart, leaving you completely bare once again. The elastic bands slapped against the inside of your thighs making you let out another quiet whimper.

"I'll give you everything you want, peach," he coated his own fingers in your slick, "anything for my favourite girl, you know that."

Before you could agree, his fingers slid into your wet pussy, stretching it out slowly. "J-Jake..."

"Shhh... Quiet, girl." He mumbled with a smirk, "let me make you feel good."

"I've got you, baby." His fingers moved in and out at a controlled pace, the rhythm increasing in speed with every thrust. It wasn't better that his tongue was toying around with your clit, swirling around the swollen little nub with the tip of his tongue.

"Missed this fuckin' pussy so much."

His head moved side to side, looking up at you every now and then to make sure you were only crying out of pleasure. "Jake, shit. Fuck. It was certainly confirmed when the only moans heard were his name followed by profanities.

"I know you can do it, baby."

Your thighs trembled around his head, feeling your release come faster than you thought. His tongue truly touched your soul, the edges of that muscle were indescribable.

"Give it to me. Give me all of you."

"U-Ugh, Jake... 'M cummin'." It didn't take long for you to let out one last wail, falling limp under your release. It washed over you like a tsunami, sending you over the moon.

The release didn’t last long as his fingers kept plunging into you at the same speed, tongue licking up the aftermath like you hadn’t just came. The tension in your stomach was building up again, the knot tightening with every nerve being pleasured.

“I know you have another one in you,” he hummed into your core, sending vibrations throughout your body, “such a good girl.”

Before you knew it, another wave had come crashing down on you; faster and more intense than the last, this one had you pulling at the roots of Jake's hair, trying to pull him away.

"Please, please," You breathe out, "Jake!"

The sound of your cries was like music to his ears, the chords of your plead causing his dick to grow tighter in his underwear, ready to burst from the seams.

Pulling away from your cunt, he dove down to your face, pressing a well-needed kiss to your lips. Not wanting to let go, your arms wrapped around his torso tightly, tugging him closer to you.

His hands were placed at the sides of your head, holding your head upright to deepen the kiss.

Your tongues were fighting for dominance, the ultimate loss coming to your end after your hips started to rock against his thigh, an unexpected sound distracting your own self.

That was his final straw.

His hands came down from your face, grabbing ahold of each of your ankles before pushing them up and resting them against his shoulder blades for support. "I missed you so much, peach."

"Missed you more, Jake."

His clothed cock was sitting right up on your bare pussy, your opening waiting for him to fill you up to the brim.

The kiss came to an end once your hand dipped down between the both of you, wrapping itself around the base of his length. A seductive giggle was only heard from you, the pumps of his cock had Jake groan shortly behind.

"Put it in," he begged, "fuck, sweetheart. Don't play around."

With the swift movement of your hand, you pushed the head of his member inside of you finally, pushing noises out of you both.

Your eyes fluttered shut at the bigger stretch of his cock, prepared to reach the stars outside of Pandora.

He started off with slow thrusts of his hips, gradually growing faster with your begs. "Faster, please!"

Although the stretch stings a little, the fullness is comforting as your hands rest against Jake's chest as you take his cock.

He cries, "Fuck, baby, that's it, you took me, all of me."

You groan as you open your eyes and glance down to see the bulge caused by Jake being seated tightly inside of you.

"Fuck me, use my cock to make yourself feel good," he places a palm to your stomach.

You don't need to be reminded twice, so start swaying your hips.

Everything intensifies as he presses harder on your lower abdomen, and you whimper in agony, "baby..."

He assists, occasionally thrusting into you without warning, which only increases the pressure in your stomach. Despite knowing what would happen, you aren't afraid, only embracing the bliss.

"Nice and slow, baby," he rocks deeper into you, brushing against your cervix, "atta, girl!"

"I know you need to cum, baby," he kisses down your face, "fuckin' squirt like the good girl you are."

That was all it took for you to reach your third high of the night; this one is the best overall.

You couldn't hold back your release, squirting all over his lower half.

Your nails were scratching at his back, dragging across his skin, and leaving engraved lines into him. Teeth biting at his shoulder, nearly drawing crimson as your wetness coated everything of him.

"That's my girl," he continued to coo at you, wiping your tears away from your cheeks, "so proud of you, babygirl."

"Never been so proud of my peach, shhh.."

#jake sully #jake sully smut #jake sully x reader #avatar smut #avatar #colonel quaritch smut #avatar 2009 #avatar the way of water #jake sully x fem!reader #jake sully x y/n #jake sully x you

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jahiera · 9 months

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You mentioned in a previous Astarion analysis post:

"But, I think, given his behavior, his casual flirtiness, his "You want to lose yourself in me," (another line I can squawk about endlessly in terms of character analysis)"

I am encouraging you to squawk. I think you've got a really good grasp of his character and I love your posts!

UPDATE***written during EA

@littlemisstrancy Sorry for the late reply! I fell down another rabbit hole of replaying haha.... Aww, thank you! I'm so glad, a good grade in Astarion is a Normal and Reasonable thing to want to achieve. But YES, I find his entire sex scene to be extremely interesting (going off of what Larian said that, paraphrased, nonsexual intimacy with some will mean more than sex with others, because of the nature of the relationship.)

What I find most interesting about Astarion's romance scenes is that the scene itself is remarkably much more syrupy than he, by nature, really is. We can point to, "darling," "my love," as evidence of his tendencies for the dramatics, yes, but given that these are petnames he'll throw out to a Tav he hates as much as a Tav he enjoys, the surface meaning and connotations of dramatic flirtations and even more dramatic pre-sex speeches.... shifts.

The way we filter these interactions shifts because we have to filter what is, at first glance, a typical romance scene, through the lens of the character giving the spiel. If Astarion associates dramatic seduction and slinky purring as simply the easiest way to get what he wants--or, perhaps, more than that, the expectation, the only way for this interaction to occur, because hollow dramatics/play-acting have been likely the only pseudo-""romance"" he's engaged in in the 200 years he's been with Cazador, that changes the meaning of everything, including the line: "You want to lose yourself in me." <- sure laddie, just keep objectifying and disconnecting yourself from the experience itself and repeat the habits of behavior that you've learned from 200 years of being someone else's toy and tool where you weren't even a willing participant in what was happening, merely a mandatory one. that'll be really great. no backfiring here whatsoever.

Okay, sorry, under the cut the rest of this goes because I went off on three different tangents to try and tie them all back together again. This is mostly my background reasoning for above. WHAT DOES THE REST HAVE TO DO WITH TAV. Honestly I'm not sure anymore I started talking and then I didn't stop talking.

It feels like so much of the overarching realities of their circumstances fall away for Tav, but it also haunts the entire interaction with Astarion. Shallow charm. Winning over people. A pretty face opening doors. I'd chalk it up to sexy-video-game-scene-writing if it were any other game, but the other romance scenes aren't nearly so grandstanding and are written I think intentionally to subvert that, so this is an Astarion Thing, and likely goes deeper than that first glance. As it stands, Astarion barely even knows who he is now that he's outside of Cazador's control. "Another thing that I've lost." -- His personhood has been nonexistent, and he's been a tool, and he's been, for lack of a better word, dehumanized to the fullest extent for an insurmountable amount of time. So of course the thing he learned best is that the easiest way to get what you want, or get what you need, is to be easily projected unto. He can't keep the facade up for very long, I don't think, but in that scene his "don't ask too many questions just look at how hot I am" mindset is fully on to me.

The thing is that his circumstances with Tav here are entirely different than the ones he's been in before, but just because the circumstances are different doesn't mean that the behavior will be different, or that habits formed out of severe distress/torture in his own words will be so easily let go of. My ULTIMATE POINT is that charm and flirtations are things Astarion clearly separates from himself and his actual beliefs, and he treats what we conceive as "charming" behavior fairly flippantly--once again, that "my love," means... not... a lot. we just met 2 weeks ago, pal. And I don't think he's interested in using it like that anymore, because he's not making a super great effort to be perceived as likeable. It comes out mostly in scenes where flirting and charisma are expected of the interaction and then they're pushed to their most exaggerated format, when he isn't actually typically like that in other conversations. Dramatic and foppish, yes, and enjoys ridiculousness in several formats, yes, but not nearly so egregiously saccharine, at all.

If he is starting to give a fuck about Tav, or even the group, that's something else to grapple with, and it's still at this point I think partly wrapped up in the idea that Tav makes for a "good ally." His scenes where he says: "we're more alike than I thought" "You're stronger than I gave you credit for," feel more genuine and honest to me in some ways than his sex scene speech. His fondness for Tav and his idea that strength/power/security can be found by sticking close to Tav can be true at the same time, in an interesting dance between his growing connection to them and his general ideas on people, power, and control.

So secondary: is Astarion a manipulator who's using this sex scene to control Tav emotionally and that's what he's got going on here? Eh... maybe yes and no? He wouldn't ask Tav if he wasn't interested--as seen by how he'll shut you down if he can't stand your guts. If he's using sex for that, it's up in the air, open to interpretation, depends on your HC, I can see both interpretations and I'm not going to claim one is more true than the other, since there's evidence for both "manipulating" and "not manipulating" and to me, the truth falls somewhere in the middle. I'm sure the thought has probably crossed his mind, but I don't actually think he's good enough at charm to follow through on that, which I will now elaborate on in INTRICATE detail....

Astarion isn't actually concerned about being likeable, or wanted within the group--or, rather, he may be concerned about it (because there's both safety and danger in a group setting), but he also isn't concerned about it enough to not advocate entirely for self-preservation and selfishness at generally every turn. He also isn't concerned about winning over the group enough to abdicate his firmest belief: that the tadpole is an advantage they should use, and a power he intends to keep.

And, if you relent to the group, he calls you spineless in the face of everyone else. So he's not afraid to insult you, Tav, either, certainly not to preserve some loose semblance image of ""charming,"" which he's already really bad at maintaining in general, because his brand of everything can just as easily piss people off as compel. Bad taste central.

Hell, his intro scene displays this best: He lures you in with a silly little lie that makes him sound weaker than he is ("You can kill it, can't you? Like you killed the others!") and then he strikes when your back is turned. Shallow charm is an accessible tool, he doesn't have the patience for long-lasting plots or extended slinky charm. Or if he does, and he's been manipulating all of us, he's not doing a great job, since half the party is making faces at him the whole time. Buuut....

During the mirror conversation, if you tell him vanity is a weakness:

(Text - Astarion: It's an indulgence, I'll grant you, but a weakness? A well-presented face can open a lot of doors.)

There is an awareness of beauty and charm that Astarion references often. He isn't really afraid to objectify himself for his own means, or being perceived as weaker than he is (except in certain circumstances). He knows these things are quite relevant, socially. Beautiful people are treated better. Beautiful people typically can get away with more. Actually I could probably approach this from a Class and Wealth related lens too, because his history as a magistrate probably also influences this mindset a lot, but that is. a THIRD separate essay.

He seeks to be strong enough to beat Cazador, at least partly through the same means that Cazador himself uses. The tadpoles give us absolute authority, in the end, and Astarion has zero qualms inflicting onto others what was inflicted onto him when we use them. But prior to the tadpole, what tools did Astarion have at his disposal? Very few, and most of them revolved around empty charm, quick-thinking, and trying to predict unpredictable moods and then enduring whatever came of those moods. That hollow charm falls under these kinds of tools, which gave him very short-term influence over at least the people he would lure back to Cazador. Likely the only form of control or power he had within all of that, and where he himself was without control as his entire being was under someone else's thumb. And those habits will likely persist for awhile, until he relearns who and what he wants to do and be outside of Cazador's purview. Which could mean anything, this is not to make him sound softer than he is or sweeter than he is. His vainglorious bitch syndrome is 4D chess of truth and not truth, empty cloying, vicious lashing out, and 10 degrees of identity issues wrapped up in all of that, so it's difficult to pin down just one thing as Real or Not Real, and I don't think even he knows what's Real and Not Real right now.

#Hi Sorry. Guess who can't shut up. That's me.#astarion #bg3 meta #bg3 #This is fairly incoherent rambling.... I didn't actually have an end in mind when I started talking so you can hear the #pepe silvia meme vc in the background here #COMPLEX CHARACTERIZATION indeed. I want to bite down and chew on him #I'm still not sold on any of this either -- my interpretation of him shifts with the wind and every other thing he says #But these are my first.. initial... thoughts anyways...#thank you again for asking! so sweet of you hgfhghf

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exhuastedpigeon · 5 months

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✨ 2023 writing round-up ✨

I posted the more words to Ao3 this year than I have in any other previous year, which is wild since I only really started writing again in June. It's wild the choke hold that Eddie Diaz and Evan Buckley have on me. Here's my writing round-up for 2023 :)

June

If we’re both still single… Teen || 2.9k

This was my first Buddie fic. Little did I know I was about to fall down the fucking rabbit hole.

“I’m sorry, you’re gonna have to repeat that for me?” Eddie had a beer halfway to his lips, his arm slung lazily on the back of the couch. “If we’re both still single when we’re 35, we should just get married,” Buck repeated, as casually as if he was saying they should order pizza or change the channel from the basketball game to hockey.

let me see them tan lines Teen || 2.8k

Four times the 118 notices Eddie Diaz's ring tan line and one time he was wearing a ring.

give me a sign, I want you next to me Teen || 7k

Buck loves working at the 118. He loves living in LA. He loves his kid. He loves the life they've manage to build. The only thing he doesn't love is that his husband is across the world in a war zone. OR The 118 knows Buck has a really cute kid and a partner he loves, they just think that partner is his husbands ex.

July

it's like everything you say is a sweet revelation Mature || 5.6k

“Marry me,” Eddie said. It wasn’t a question, it was a sentence. He said it like he was commenting on the weather or last night's Dodgers game. Buck slowly lowered his coffee cup, eyes wide. Eddie lifted his drink and took a sip, a satisfied hum escaped him as he did. “Come again?” “Marry me,” Eddie took another sip of his coffee. “Please?”

boiling point Teen || 2k

Growing up, Buck heard the story about frogs and boiling water, that if you put a frog into boiling water, it’ll jump out, but if you put the frog is put in room temperature water and then slowly bring it to a boil, the frog won’t perceive the danger and will be boiled to death. When he was a kid, he had believed it, like so many other stories and fables. OR Evan Buckley's extremely extended metaphor for loving Eddie Diaz.

August

wet your lips (and smile to the camera) Mature || 6.8k

Buck has a problem and that problem is that Eddie Diaz is going to ruin his life. OR Eddie starts modeling on the side and Buck can't stop looking at his pictures, mostly because Eddie's ads are everywhere.

you are the only one that needs to know Teen || 2k

"You're not my dirty little secret. And I never want you to think that,” Buck says it practically into Eddie’s mouth, with a hand on Eddie’s chest. He shoves him, gently, into the Grant-Nash laundry room next to the bathroom. “But…” “But?” Eddie grins, feels the way Buck is grinning against his lips too and lets himself be moved backward until he collides with the washing machine. “But… I will miss sneaking off to make out with you when we finally tell everyone."

this kiss is something I can't resist Mature || 1.6k

Happiness snuck up on Evan Buckley like a summer storm in Florida, but unlike a summer storm, the happiness he was feeling didn’t seem to be going anywhere. If anything, it was getting bigger, the feeling threatening to jump out of his chest at any moment.

take my hand, don't let it go Teen || 2.3k

In retrospect, dating a death doula pretty soon after one of the most traumatic experiences of Buck’s life, an experience where he actually died, was maybe not Buck’s smartest decision. In which Buck realizes that dating Natalia isn't what he needs and talks to Eddie about their shared death related trauma.

you're the cream in my coffee Explicit || 8.6k

“Dad, did you know there’s a coffee that’s made of poop!” “It’s not actually made of poop, bud,” Buck grinned, handing Eddie Chris’s backpack. “It’s partially digested cherries. The cherries actually ferment as they’re being passed through the civet’s intestines. They disinfect them and everything before they’re consumed.” “Yeah! That! It’s called copy loo-wake” “Kopi luwak.” “Uh huh!” “I take it you had fun with your Buck today, huh?” “Buck's the best dad!”

September

a dream is a wish your heart makes General || 3.3k

It takes a soft, domestic dream about Buck for Eddie to realize what's been true for a long time - he's in love with his best friend.

October

Hot and Heavy Explicit || 9.4k

Eddie can admit without shame that he’s having a bit of a hoe phase. He’s thirty, recently out of the closet, and even more recently single, he’s allowed to have some fun. In fact, he’s pretty sure it’s basically a requirement that he fuck around since he didn’t get to do it when he was younger. OR Five times Eddie had casual sex with someone who wasn't Buck and the time they finally got their shit together

Feels Like Magic Teen || 47.8k

“You used too much magic again,” Buck’s voice was quiet as he spoke, but he knew Eddie heard him. “You’re alive,” Eddie’s eyes were closed, but Buck knew the look Eddie would be giving him if they had been open. It was the same look Eddie had given him when he had said ‘because, Evan, you think you’re expendable but you’re not’. It was a look that made Buck feel truly and completely seen in a way he never had before. “There’s no such thing as too much if it saves you.” “Go to sleep,” Buck said, because if he left himself say anything else he’d be telling Eddie he loved him and he didn’t think in the bunk room at two in the morning after an exhausting call was the right moment, but then again, Buck was pretty sure he’d be taking that secret to his grave.

November

kiss and make up Explicit || 3.3k

Eddie always thought that if he and Buck ever kissed it would be in the heat of the moment, it would be pure relief that they were still alive. Maybe after a big rescue or (another) near death experience. That if it wasn’t in the heat of the moment as they both came down from an adrenaline rush that it would be something soft, probably in one of their kitchens while they did the dishes. He always figured that the first kiss would be like a homecoming. (Not that Eddie thought about kissing Buck often, because he doesn’t do that.) Instead of being soft and sweet or adrenaline fueled and filled with love and thanks that they're both alive, their first kiss comes in the middle of a fight in Eddie’s living room.

gold when you see me Teen || 4.3k

"Ouch,” Eddie says when he lands, his teeth clacking in his head. His ass hurts in an extremely unfun way, his ankle feels terrible, and he’s seeing spots. None of that is good news. “Eddie?” Buck sounds panicked. “Eddie?” “Down here,” Eddie calls up. He’s definitely going to have a bruised tail bone and there’s a pretty decadent chance that he’s sprained his ankle, if not broken it. He’s a little too shaken up to try to get up right now, especially since it's not like he’s not going to be able to get himself out of here. He takes a deep breath and feels every second of it in his ribs. On the bright side, they don't feel broken, just bruised. Buck’s face, illuminated by nothing but Eddie’s flashlight and Buck’s own, appears in the hole that Eddie fell through. “You okay?” Eddie will explore the tremor in Buck’s voice later, right now he needs to get out of this fucking hole before it caves in even more. “Definitely a little banged up, but I landed on the ground, not anything else.”

wanna lose my mind in a hotel room with you Explicit || 4.1k

"Think you’ll ever have that kind of love?” Eddie asks as he leans against the wall with a beer in his hand at Maddie and Chimney’s engagement party. He’s got a fond look on his face, if not a little wistful as he turns to face Buck. “I hope so,” Buck says with a small smile on his face as he looks from Maddie and Chim dancing with Jee-Yun between them to Eddie. He’s pretty sure he’s already got half of a love like that standing next to him, he just isn’t sure if it’s reciprocated. “I-I really hope so.” “Want to dance with me?” Eddie asks after a few seconds of quiet between them, his eyes bright in the yellow light of the string lights that crisscross the patio.

December

it hurts to hope for more Mature || 15.5k

“I’m never - I’m never going to be a dad,” Buck sobs into Eddie’s shoulder. “She didn’t want kids. Why do I keep dating people who don’t want the same things as me? Is- is the universe telling me that I don’t deserve it?” “Hey, no,” Eddie pulls back from the hug and Buck lets out a pitiful sound at the loss of contact. “The universe doesn’t do that. The universe doesn’t scream and it definitely doesn’t get to tell you what you deserve, because you deserve everything Buck. Everything.” OR Buck wants to be a dad, it takes a couple break-ups and a major non-romantic heartbreak for him to figure out that maybe he already is.

can't make it stop, give me all you got Explicit || 4.1k

“Are we really doing this?” Buck’s lips graze the shell of Eddie’s ear as he speaks. They're in a club, the music is loud, so Eddie would have chalked the proximity of Buck’s mouth up to that, but Buck nips at his earlobe. “I think we are,” Eddie grins and turns his face to capture Buck’s mouth with his. He doesn’t care that they’re probably in view of all of their friends. He doesn’t care that there are sweaty, dancing bodies all around them. All he can think about is the way Buck’s hands feel on his waist, the way Buck’s breath hitches as Eddie grabs a handful of his ass. OR Eddie and Buck fuck in a club at Pride

#2023 writing round up #writing round up #buddie #my fic #my fics #my writing

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xerith-42 · 4 months

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18 or so Shadow Knight Headcanons

If you saw the earlier version of this post where I fucked up the tags no you didn't

Ever since falling back down the Minecraft Diaries rabbit hole like two seconds after I showed up on this site, I have come up with a lot of headcanons about this series, especially pertaining to Shadow Knights and Shadow Knight characters. And a lot of mine and others best ideas have been written in comments, reblogs, or in discord servers, or I just never wrote them down anywhere. So I want to make this post compiling all of them. Most of these headcanons are mine, but a few I would call collaborative processes and I will credit these people when they come up. I love this community. It feels really nice to say that.

General SK Headcanons

All Shadow Knights fluctuate between having cold or warm blood depending on if/how they've answered the calling. If they've yet to answer the calling, their blood is cold until the calling pulls on them and makes their blood warm in an attempt to draw them back to the Nether. If a Shadow Knight answers the call, they gain full regulation over their blood temperature because they're immortal. That doesn't really matter anymore. (original idea came from a convo with @laurencezvahlslefteyebrow )

Shadow Knights have less of a need for sleeping or eating, and if they're fully immortal they often forgo the concepts entirely. This leads to incomplete ones often forgetting to sleep for days on end, or neglecting their need to eat if they aren't reminded to.

Time moves slower in the Nether than it does in the Overworld, so a lot of Shadow Knights often struggle with their perception of time. Especially Laurance because he was already struggling with the time dilation AND THEN got flung fifteen years into the future. Man does not know what day it is or what year it is, and sometimes Vylad will tell you the date and it's like weeks off.

Garroth just has an innate ability to fuck with the heads of Shadow Knights. It's just what he does. At first it's largely through Laurance by showing him a patience and understanding, all while being able to assure his own safety. And when he starts caring for Vylad, it completely upends how they're used to looking at something they thought they had come to terms with.

The Doll Headcanons!! (original image from @adepressedgaydragon)

Vylad is used to dealing with any symptoms of being a Shadow Knight on his own. He's been on the run/in hiding for like 17 years or something, and was clearly neglected and used to being on his own from a young age. So they've become very used to handling the moments where his body just stops working. Where all they can do is lay limp against the wall, occasionally jerking and having random muscle spasms. Vylad learned to control them a little, make it so he can just get it all over with in a few hours instead of randomly.

He forgets to hide as well once he's around others. Vylad enters one of these episodes and when he gains control of his body again, Garroth is sitting at his side. When he hastily tries to apologize, Garroth says very carefully "It's okay. I know it isn't your fault."

One time, one single time before his betrayal, Garroth notices Zenix in a state of standing completely still, but his shoulders are limp, and he isn't moving at all, lifeless like a puppet with its strings cut. When Garroth questions him on it, Zenix insists nothing's wrong and tells him to mind his own business. It's only after Garroth sees Laurance like this for the first time and Laurance explains that it's a Shadow Knight thing that Garroth realizes. He realizes he could have noticed what was wrong with Zenix before he had a chance to hurt anyone.

Gene and Zenix get in a fight and when Zenix slams Gene's head against the wall, instead of the sound of bone and blood, there's the sound of porcelain breaking. Both men sort of freeze. Zenix lets go and Gene stumbles back, and when he does, there's another cracking sound. There's a permanent scar of a crack going down his face originating from the left side of his forehead. It bleeds, but not in the way it should. The whole thing is so unnerving neither one talk about it and their fight is essentially over...

Sasha is a lot more like a wooden doll. Normally she's pretty reserved, but still has a lot of personality in her expression and the way she carries herself. But sometimes her movements are just a bit too stiff. There's a creak as she bends one of her joints, and her face gets stuck in an expression. This is especially annoying when it happens to her fingers while she's holding something and she just has to pray she doesn't drop her favorite mug directly into a pit of lava she happens to be walking past in the Nether.

I've already gone into my stuff with Laurance in my Garrance musings, but I have so fucking many more. Sometimes it isn't his full body that stops working. Sometimes Laurance's limbs or just his neck goes limp. He'll be in the middle of trying to rizz up someone and his arm just goes completely lifeless on their shoulder. He'll randomly stumble because he just loses feelings in his legs. One time someone thought he was asleep during a very important meeting because his head suddenly fell forward, and he just gave them a thumbs up like "No this happens, just pretend it's normal." Vylad SK Headcanons

Vylad hates to admit it, so he never does, but he almost gave into the calling the first time he was in the Overworld. He showed up very close to home, and had intimate knowledge of the security measures present at his families estate. They actually mapped out how easy it would be, and had a high success rate. It was only hearing that his brother had died that made Vylad break free from the calling.

Vylad knew Zenix was a Shadow Knight and deliberately helped to hide it from Garroth. He wanted to see if Garroth could handle Zenix because he still feared being around his brother. He feared that Garroth wouldn't be strong enough to stand against him if he somehow lost control.

After the fifteen years spent on his own completely aimless, Vylad sometimes forgets that he's a Shadow Knight. Like, it's just so... Normal. Someone with the ability to sense that shit gives him and odd look and they are just very confused because they can't use magicks?? Why are they-- Oh right, you're undead.

Vylad tends to keep his blood cold. Just easier to deal with. The first time he actively feels it get warm outside of the calling is after he's already defeated his temptation and can exist around his mother. When she reaches forward and places a hand on Vylad's cheek, his entire body becomes warm. Life returns to him all in a rush and it's a feeling he's sorely missed. Zenix SK Headcanons

If he hadn't gained a new lord shortly before becoming a Shadow Knight, Zenix's calling would have latched onto Garroth, the man he considered to be his mentor and the closest friend he has. Zenix scoffs at this idea now.

Zenix starts killing Shadow Knights instead of hunting his lord because the Shadow King realized that Zenix killing his lord meant Zenix killing Irene, and he wants to do that himself. So he deliberately persuaded Zenix to gain power by fighting other Shadow Knights instead. It backfired.

Zenix knows every single weakness a Shadow Knight can have both before and after answering the calling. He knows the most common symptoms, what happens to the weakest of them, how to manage the ups and downs. He could be a great life coach or therapist with this information, but the voices and bloodlust are a bit too loud to ignore so he just starts killing.

It's on sight between Zenix and Gene. Like he sees a guy who sort of looks like Gene and just instantly goes for the kill. Sasha once joked that his calling latched onto Gene and Zenix couldn't really disagree with her. It's certainly a similar feeling. Gene SK Headcanons

This is basically canon, but oh my Irene Gene has some awful takes on relationships, and this further ruined him as a Shadow Knight. Most Shadow Knights throw away their humanity when they answer the calling and never regain it. Gene is almost frighteningly human, always poking and prodding at people and being very reactive. He's always trying to push what is and isn't okay literally all the time and it usually isn't okay but he's literally immortal so what are they going to do? (god complex what?)

In spite of this, Gene does feel bad for what he did to Dante. He can never look his brother in the eyes, but if he could, he would have done things differently. Making everyone forget about him did more damage to Dante than he ever anticipated.

It was actually talks with Sasha that made Gene realize this. A lot of his time after gaining his immortality was spend serving the Shadow King largely because it always made things interesting. He was always pushing the world and those around him in new unknown directions that were fascinating to watch. Gene is endlessly enamored by humans but in the way a mad scientist is enamored with it's subjects.

It's why in spite of everything, he'll always have a soft spot for Sasha. Long talks with her are some of his fondest memories. He can't really decide if he's in love with her since his sense of love was skewed before the voice of the lord of darkness started making it actively worse, but he feels good things when he thinks about her. Sasha SK Headcanons

Sasha answered the calling, and doesn't often hold onto the idea of her humanity. She's not quite dead, not quite alive, and she knows she'll be this way forever. Unlike most Shadow Knights, especially the ones susceptible to the Shadow King's control, she's simply accepted her fate. He isn't able to promise her with something greater, and despite what some may think, she's actually the wild card the Shadow King is most afraid of because even he can't get a read on her.

Oddly enough, she starts to feel more human when she's captured in season 2. She gets a lot of chances to talk to different members of the group who are guarding her, and even if most of them don't trust her, she still feels something whenever they show her any sign of an emotion that isn't disgust. It makes her remember what's so fun about being human.

Similar to Vylad, Sasha feels a rush of warmth anytime she's in proximity to Kenmur, close to being alive without the influence of shadow magic. It's a feeling she doesn't want to get used to.

Sasha can never quite decide what she feels about Laurance. It's something akin to morbid curiosity. She can get into his head so easy, and she likes using him as a test of what can make a Shadow Knight tick. Though, sometimes it's a Laurance exclusive feature. Laurance SK Headcanons

A small part of Laurance really likes the extra power his Shadow Knight form gives in a twisted way. He doesn't like the emotions, but the physical effect is honestly great. It's an even stronger form than he would be capable of as a regular human that he can use to protect his demigod not girlfriend who keeps getting targeted by more insane magical bull shit.

During one of his times where he ran away because of the calling Laurance was alone in a cave and started cursing out his lord. Every vile word he could use to describe her came from his mouth, and while he regrets some of it, he will never admit the truth that he meant some of it too.

A lot of Laurance's resentment really just comes from the fact that he is severely not okay thanks to the calling and his experiences in the Nether. He never really had time to fully recover from that mentally, and everything keeps moving so damn fast, and he shamefully misses those slower days in the Nether when Sasha would sit outside his bars and talk to him, or when he and Vylad had conversations through prison walls. Laurance just desperately needs people to check up on him.

(Garrance Specific Headcanon) Once during a particularly sleep deprived conversation with Vylad while Vylad was calming him down from a calling induced panic attack, Laurance confessed to Vylad he was in love with Garroth and scared of getting him out of the Irene Dimension because he didn't want to risk the calling latching onto him. Even after Vylad very awkwardly assured him that's not how the calling works, Laurance is still paranoid.

The Calling is a contradiction. It's designed to be one because contradictions drive men to madness. Laurance's entire life from start to finish has been a series of contradictions, karmic imbalance and re-balance, and the fates seemingly toying with him for their own sick amusement. When he gets control of his body after running away and finds himself in the Nether, he has straight up had enough. The contradiction of wanting to be by his lords side and also needing to be as far away from her as possible basically broke Laurance back into being human?? Because he was never a proper Shadow Knight in the first place.

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neo-shitty · 10 months

Text

and i would like you to love me — l.mk

excerpt. “i loved her hard and at a distance, which made it easier to do, experienced brief but powerful compulsions to hug her and almost never did.” - our wives under the sea, julia armfield.

pairings. mark lee x gender-neutral reader, (slight) na jaemin x gender-neutral reader

genre. angst, slight fluff, best friends!au, one-sided pining

warnings. swearing. mark is so...whipped...it’s almost pathetic.

word count. 4.6k

notes. i haven’t written much this year and if i did get around to writing, it was either self-indulgent (read as written to appease my delusions) or nothing good. | taglist. @mosviqu @by-moonflower @lovesuhng @emvrd

Your name was but a whisper in the wind; minute against the rustling of crisp dry leaves as the breeze picked up and blew down the sidewalk, but he spoke it loud enough to be heard over the distant bustling of the city night, half a world away from where they were.

“______,” he called out, the name spilling out of his mouth long before he could think of what to say afterwards. The impulse trigger had left him, just as suddenly as it came and by the time his mind had caught up, she’d already stopped and turned to him.

“What?” Your eyes met his and all the words he’d bottled up inside him fizzled up right when he needed them most.

“Leaving?” Mark watched as a blur crossed the room, moving past him on the way somewhere he—in his sorry state of insobriety—couldn’t quite figure out just yet. The blur is you, on your merry way to take the unconventional route to the kitchen to fetch more drinks or heading for the backyard to take a dip in the pool.

Or leaving, because you stop by the doorway, picking up the sneakers you came in with as you bid you goodbyes to the others around you. “Already?”

The room Mark was in was a clockless one and with his phone dead, he had no way of knowing how late the night had gotten. Was it late enough to warrant heading home or just another one of the days you were up for hanging out until you weren’t? Either way, he still pushed himself off the couch, anticipating the nauseating world-spin that came with the sudden jerk of motion and waited for it to pass. Then he was fine—the world stilling momentarily—and he’s saying his ‘goodbye’s and ‘see you next time’s until he was out the door.

You hadn’t gotten that far yet, less than a house away when he stumbled down the front porch steps and trampled the front lawns of the Lees. He was debating calling out to you to wait when he noticed you slowed your steps to match his, waiting until you walked side by side on the sidewalk.

He wasn’t sure how far down on the way home his thoughts shifted from keeping his walking straight to the rabbit hole he’d fallen into. Ever since the seed sprouted in the depths of his mind, he never was able to get away from it—tangled in its grasp and dragged down every time he was reminded of it. It was hard not to think of it when he saw you almost everyday, your image ingrained into his eyelids with the permanence of all those years of friendship.

Tonight, the thoughts loomed just beyond the horizon; from the moment you ran out the front door waving to your parents by the doorway, to the bus ride you spent standing together and trying their best not to fall over, to enjoying the party all the while looking out for where the other had gone.

It was always like this between you, a seemingly mismatched compatibility outlasting the average lifetime of a pair with a dynamic like theirs. People like you grew into something more or diminished into nothing, unable to withstand the test of time. Not you, though. Your friendship mirrored the way the tides shifted through the months, reaching far into the shore only to pull far back later on. He was the static sand of the shoreline and you were the tide, moving with the push and pull of lunar gravity; growing closer to each other until you overlapped then backing away but never entirely apart. Nothing more, nothing less and Mark was content with that.

Until one night—mid-summer—in a drunken haze he wondered if it would be wrong to want something more than just this and nothing had been able to quell the thought ever since.

It spread through his mind like a plague, an obsessive fascination of this possibility happening because it wasn’t off the table. They might work. And he would think of what it would be like to call you more than just a friend, to hold you closer than their current unsaid boundaries allowed, to feel your warmth against his—chest to chest with your hearts beating in sync.

The thoughts led him here, verbalized in the form of your name for the first time since its inception in the recesses of his mind.

You were still looking at him, arms finding their ways back to your side after pretending to keep your balance on levelled ground. It took one glance at your face, your curiosity warping into impatience, for him to remember what he was really up against. Every con listed itself in bullets in his mind, matching up against his established list of delusion-fuelled pros. What if you didn’t feel the same way? He’d thought about it before. People have taken bullets to the chest and lived to tell the tale, so why couldn’t he? But he knows it wasn’t just about the ache of the potential rejection, it was about every ripple and repercussion following the confession because...

What if he lost her?

And somehow that was enough to snap him out of the deluded trance, every inch of mustered courage dwindling as he weighed the possibilities—his losses always heavier than the probable benefits. Certainties, such as your being a part of his life, would remain as such until factors that could potentially affect it would surface, and uncertainties will, well, remain uncertain until further evidence would prove it closer to certainty than the former.

So, Mark shook his head. “Nothing,” he said. “Just be careful.” It was a stupid excuse but he knew you’d never look into it more than the fact that a man just tried to dictate your actions.

“How about you be careful and start minding your own business?” you answered, keeping a feisty fit until you broke into a laugh, filling the air of the silent evening. When he didn’t laugh along with you, you stuck out your tongue, leaping onto the next square on the pattern across the sidewalk with your arms stretched out.

You were right though. Between you and him, he had more chances of falling over even if he wasn’t hopping around. And if that happened, he’d be more than happy to lie there gazing at the semi-starry night sky—the road not taken lingering as a daydream in his mind.

In the same way recent thoughts sometimes slip into dreams in the form of ridiculous symbolism, anything the senses pick up in sleep have the chance of transcending reality and making itself known in dreams in some wild interpretation the mind comes up with unconsciously. In Mark’s case, it was the crescendo of banging on his bedroom door that intruded the peace of his slumber and turned its peaceful air into a full-blown apocalyptic nightmare.

In the dream, he was making his way down the sidewalk of a busy highway, still in a filler part of his dream. He had no recollection of where he was or how he got there, just that he was headed somewhere and that events would pick up from there. Unfortunately for him, he won’t be asleep long enough to find out what awaited him.

The first of the crashes was faint, loud enough to draw his attention but far enough to not worry him. It sounded like a bomb exploding from underground, muffled but powerful. and as his mind registered the connections he made, the second boom came—louder and closer now—shaking the ground where he stood.

Fear surged through his system, adrenaline pumping into his veins as he broke into a sprint. Then the crashes came first, as if seemingly sensing his fear and coming for him. There was a third, a fourth, and a fifth, all barrelling closer and closer towards him until one detonated behind him, finally knocking him out.

Mark Lee woke up with a start. He's alive, breathless right on his first waking minute. A thin layer of sweat glazed the skin of his upper torso, the dream vivid enough to leave remnants in reality. He turned to his side, reaching over to his bedside table when he heard it, the same loud crash that killed him in his dreams and it was right outside his door. He sat up, startled, slowly realizing that it wasn’t a bomb but knocking loud enough that it might as well be.

“I'll be down in 10, mom!”

Bthe knocking persisted. what it diminished in volume it made up for in its frequency, coming in half-beats.

He groaned, throwing the covers off of him to walk over to the door. “I said I’ll be there in 10!”

The door swung open. It wasn’t his mom knocking dents into the wood.

“Happy birthday!” The candle goes out with a concentrated exhale, a thin line of smoke being only its remnant that it was ever lit up.

The cake was simple; store-bought chocolate with a Happy Birthday, Mark! scribbled in red icing, held up by someone who looked up at him expectantly. What were you expecting?

“Oh shit, sorry.” Mark fought the urge to laugh at your little fuck up, leaning against the doorway as you fumbled your pocket for the lighter. You found it eventually, striking it twice until a steady flame relit the candle. “Happy birthday, Mark! Make a wish,” you greeted again, holding the cake out further from your face and closer to Mark’s.

He doesn’t tell you that his wish had already been granted. “Thank you,” he took the cake from your palm, killing the candle’s light a second time. “You really woke up early for this?”

“I did,” you answered, hands on your waist like a superhero; proud. Mark could tell from the shadows beneath your eyes that you’d probably forgotten the date and panicked the second you realized it was his birthday, bought the cake right as the bakery was closing and somehow forgot to bring a lighter on your way here.

But there was always plus points for effort.

He could feel the corners of his mouth twitch up, the telltales of a smile making its way to his face no matter how hard he tried to keep it down. “Thank you, ______.”

He’d done this a hundred times before but this one felt different. Pulling you closer, he wrapped you in a half-embrace to which you melted into. Your own arms curled languidly around his frame, slowly enclosing him in your own squeeze. Pressed chest to chest, he was conscious of every muscle twitch. He felt as if his arms would lock and keep you there, where his lips could brush your temple if you wanted him to, where your perfume was too strong it was all he could inhale.

“You’re old.” You mumbled and he felt the vibrations on his chest as you spoke.

“Your birthday’s in a few weeks too, idiot.” Did you feel it in your chest too?

He opened his mouth to speak, but stopped himself, the moment too fragile in his hands. So he left it in yours even when he knew you’d be quick to drop it, pulling away from him right before he could beg you to stay a little longer.

You stood at a fair distance away from him again. “Get changed and come down. Breakfast’s ready.��

Breakfast was omelettes and a mug of coffee. Before him were two plates of the same meal, one more overcooked than the other. It was easy to point out but he opted to keep his mouth shut, glancing over at you.

“Go on, try it!” you said, beaming at him with an air of confidence.

So he does, slicing a portion with his fork before shoving it into his mouth. Surprisingly, it’s better than he expected it to be, but judging from the few too many egg shells on the kitchen counter, it took a few tries. “Good, but not as good as my mom’s.”

His mom’s hearty laughter filled the room, warmth spreading where the sunlight couldn’t reach. “You’ll get the hang of it someday, _____.”

It wasn’t the first time you tried it but this was the closest you’d ever gotten to getting it right. Across all his birthdays and the mornings you dropped by, this was the first time you didn’t burn the eggs completely. Just slightly, just enough for Mark to notice the difference. But his mom had the edge, what was 20-something consecutive years of practice to several tries months apart?

The rest of breakfast is spent in small talk, filling in the gaps between the last time they’d been huddled together and today. Mark spent most of his time listening, the information exchanged no longer anything new. But he’d speak in the silences, when his mother attended to other things or when you had your head down, smiling at something but telling him nothing when he asked.

Oh. That.

Mark knew for a while now, he was just waiting for you to admit it. The gradual shift was subtle but enough for him to notice; this wasn’t the first time this had happened, the last time being a lifetime ago. Shortened, occasional replies and half-distracted responses meant you were hiding something or budgeting time across people and failing to keep up. He would know, because he’d done it before. But unlike you, his temporary fixes proved to be temporary and he’d somehow find his way back, retracing his steps and ending up on your doorstep with a story of a lifetime you’d be willing to hear out on the front porch. But he was rarely on the receiving end of these stories, never the one to keep the friendship alive despite the growing distance.

He first noticed it on a weeknight mid-semester, when he was staying up late to finish something. He camped in a server with a bot playing music in the background when he heard the ding, an intruder entering his safe space, but it’s you so he doesn’t bother. It’s half-past 3AM and,

“You never sleep do you?” you asked.

“Why aren’t you asleep?” he asked.

Mark answered work and you answered nothing. Nothing was an avenue for a lot of things, just not something you wanted to say out loud. Just not something you wanted to say to him.

Your camera blinked on, the same old familiar face greeting him—the dim light of your laptop screen reflecting on your skin. The pixels that made up your eyes stared back at him, which meant you were staring at the black orb of your camera just to look at him directly. Then you turned away, laughing.

“Something funny about my face?”

He expected some sarcastic reply. But you only shook your head, looking elsewhere. He could hear the keys clicking as you typed, your eyes scanning across the screen that, as Mark realized, isn’t just composed of him.

“Are you talking to someone?” Mark asked, even if he wouldn’t like either response. No, I’m not talking to someone—a blatant lie. Yes, I’m talking to someone—the truth he didn’t want to hear. But he asked anyway, getting a firm answer would be better than mere speculation. He just didn’t get why the thought of it stung.

On his screen, you cocked your head, your heads now side by side as if they were leaning against each other. At least, that was how it was on his end. He noticed your lips, the way the edges curled when you fought hard not to smile. Mark heard about Na Jaemin for the first time that night.

Mark got out of his shift a little past midnight, bursting out the door in a frantic rush straight into the empty streets of the city. His mind had been locked onto one thing since he got the voicemail: to get to the pub as soon as he could. Hi Mark, your best friend’s voice came through the speaker. I know you’re working, But could you pick _____ up after your shift? I would drive them home but I came with Jeno and I don't think they’re in the right state of mind to be riding a motorcycle right now so... The line goes silent for a while, the talking distant before he overhears ‘Is _____ here? Are they ok?’. I know, I’m sorry, it’s so late. You don’t have to do it, I’ll just call up their dad.

No, he replied, not even thinking of how he’ll get there. I'll come get them. Because they both knew calling your dad was the last of all last resorts. Your best friend replied with an okay and an address that was on the other side of the city.

Mark walked into an unforgiving downpour, raindrops thick enough to blur the rest of the avenue. His jacket wasn’t enough to shield him from it, the thick denim soaking in not even seconds in. It offered some form of protection but it wasn’t a coat nor an umbrella and the closest bus stop was still a block away. He dashed head first into the pouring rain, down the sidewalk and across the street, straight into the bus shed.

The few people who rode the bus along with him cast glances of disgust, keeping an unrespectful distance away from him as if the rainwater that drenched him was some vile toxic liquid. He stood the whole way, not wanting to dampen dry bus seats and risk getting ejected off the bus. His bus card was declined thrice and he ended up paying in cash before hopping off, only to find himself on the wrong street. His phone shut down somewhere along the way and he spent a few minutes walking in the wrong direction before he eventually turned around and found the pub.

For a pub, it wasn’t crowded enough for him to get more lost than he already had been. In fact, it was relatively empty. He spotted familiar faces close to the back, Jeno specifically who had a beer can in hand—ready to offer it to him. They welcomed him as he approached, asking where he was, why he only arrived now and why the fuck he was drenched. He ignored everyone, though he would soon regret not taking the can of beer from Jeno’s hand. “Where’s ______?” he asked.

“Mark, you’re here!” Your best friend came up from behind him, eyes running over his figure. “Oh my God, what happened? Didn’t you get my text?”

Mark fished his phone out of his pocket, showing the black screen and the useless effort of trying to turn it back on. Whether it was drained or drenched beyond repair, he wasn’t sure.

Your best friend chewed the inside of their cheeks before speaking. “_____’s fine now,” they said and he noted the hesitance in their tone, as if they knew something he didn’t. After a quick sigh she resigned and continued, “Jaemin came. They’re still here, I think, down the hall by the comfort rooms.”

He wished your best friend didn’t notice when his expression hardened from worry to a stoicism meant to keep his emotions in check. But their lingered, pity and concern dancing across the glossy surface of their eyes. He thanks them as he excused himself, thanking them a second time for saying the truth instead of shielding him from the truth he’d uncover on his own eventually.

A cue stick hits a cue ball, scattering the multi-colored balls across the table. The crowd erupts into cheers, the music playing in the background drowned out by the amused laughter. It’s a lucky shot because a few make it into the holes, the player earns another opportunity to strike. One of their friends called him over and he glanced, suddenly torn between stalling or confronting what was waiting for him.

He holds a hand up, opting to come back for them later. He'd need the distraction, anyway. The short walk to the bathroom ends at the mouth of another hallway, a narrow one that led to the lavatory and the comfort room doors that stood side by side to each other.

You sat with your back against the wall, somewhere at the end of the hallway. And across you sat Jaemin, cross-legged on the same floor, mirroring the way you were curled up against the corner because it made you laugh. Mark feels like he’s interrupting something, feels that his presence—though not yet acknowledged—was not welcome in their little space.

“_____?”

Jaemin is the first to look over, dark eyes bearing down on Mark’s. and though the man was seated on the floor, Mark suddenly felt small. When he searched the blonde’s face for a sign of hostility, he found nothing but mere indifference, nothing beyond how someone would treat a stranger. Jaemin leans forward, closing the distance between you. Only then do you glance over at Mark—head spinning instantly, eyes wide like a doe in headlights. You always moved that way when the alcohol overtook your system. Where others found their actions dulled, yours became sharper. Mark found it comforting that you weren’t too far gone yet to lose the snappy movements.

The blonde man rose up to his full height and they finally saw each other eye to eye. Then he turned to reach a hand to you to help you pull yourself up with a firm grip on the other man’s wrist.

In that moment, Mark slipped out of the hallway and into the recesses of his mind, revisiting the last time he’d seen you—that night in his room, the altercation. He remembers the way you beamed at him when you walked in, the brightness of your presence permeating the thick air of his room. Whatever reasons he had, he could no longer remember. Why was he that irritable that day? At what point could he no longer bear to listen to you? And why did he have to say what he did?

You talked about your day, at first, and just like every conversation since you introduced Jaemin, the topic inevitably steered to him. How you went from passing glances at each other, to exchanging socials, to talking all night, to hanging out in person—and Mark listened on for the justification as to why his own messages had gone unanswered for longer periods until he couldn’t bear it any longer.

He shouldn’t have scoffed but he did. “Are you even sure that he likes you?” he said, cutting you off as you spoke. He regrets it the second it rendered you silent. You didn’t look hurt, no, it was disappointment and the weight of your gaze that made the guilt surge within him.

“_____,” he tried but you were already slipping off the bed, passing behind him as you picked up your things and slamming the door without even looking back. He should’ve stood up right then, ran after you before you could leave the house and apologize. Say that he didn’t mean it that way, say that he didn’t mean it at all. But he just sat there, his guilt gobbling him whole and his pride keeping him rooted there.

Like clockwork, he eventually apologized and you eventually told him it was fine, even when it wasn’t for the sake of dismissing it. Nothing was the same ever since; the rift evident, as if you hadn’t drifted far enough already.

But there were times like this when pride was an easy thing to overlook. You had done it for him once or twice before. He recalled running late one too many times for a class you had together; and you, despite not being on speaking terms with him, took the blame for it. And your friendship was always fixed that way, non-verbal ways, as if to prove that actions spoke louder than words if they failed.

“What the fuck happened, Mark?” you asked, slurring through your words before bursting out in laughter.

Mark raised an eyebrow, “What the fuck happened to me? What the fuck happened to you?” he watched as you stumbled over, wobbly as you stepped.

Behind you, Jaemin leans to mumble something in your ear. Something about letting him know if you were ready to leave. Mark didn’t mean to eavesdrop on it, nor could he help butting in.

“It’s fine,” he says, to the blonde’s surprise and his own. “I’ll take her home. Sorry for bothering you.”

“Not a bother at all,” Jaemin replied. “I don’t mind. I’ll take her home. Besides, it’s raining. Glad I brought the car instead.”

And Mark debates whether it would be worth sparking an argument with the man. Didn’t he know that the rain had stopped? Maybe he would’ve known if he wasn’t busy flirting in a pub bathroom. And did he really have to shove it in his face that he had a ride after seeing him drenched?

But Mark noticed you looking and he bites his tongue. You were no longer looking over with eyes glinting with both worry and amusement at the same time. You looked at him imploringly, as if begging for him to take the hint. If he was honest, Mark didn’t want to. And it wasn’t because he tread through a storm just to get here but because it was an opportunity to make things up to you, to finally apologize and break the ice. But it seemed you were taking apologies in other ways today and it didn’t necessarily involve him.

Mark sighed and hoped that his voice wouldn’t betray him as he spoke. “Alright, be careful both of you. Her dad’s kinda strict.” He even mustered up the courage to wink at the blonde man.

Jaemin chuckled lightly and he watched as your face flared up in a blush. Mark stepped aside to let the pair pass, looking away when he noticed the blonde resting an arm over your shoulders—like he used to. But he sees you through the mirror hanging over the lavatory and that’s how he noticed that you looked over a final time. Your eyes met on the glass and for the first time since your little quarrel. You looked at him warmly; he missed this. You mouthed a little thank you before you turned back, walking away and disappearing into the main room.

By the time Mark joined the others, you had long left the place for a night out on your own. Everyone knew better than to bring it up. Beer bottles were passed, along with cue sticks and unlit cigarettes. He hoped the alcohol would dampen out how he felt even just for that night.

They were at the pub until it closed in the early AM, saying their goodbyes when they were out on the street. Mark’s house was far from everyone else’s, close only to yours, but because you were no longer around, he ended up alone. He would’ve sent you a text to ask if you got home safely, to tell you that he walked all the way home again, to say what he’d been meaning to say for years now. Good thing his phone was dead long before he could do so.

#was supposed to proofread this a final time didn't even realize it was out #mark fluff #mark angst #mark x reader #kwritersworldnet #nct angst #nct fluff #mark lee angst #mark lee fluff #mark imagines #mark scenarios #mark fics #nct x reader #nct scenarios #nct imagines #mark lee x reader #toff.writes

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smok3r7 · 3 months

Text

Is Leaving Even An Option?

Joel x F!reader

Explicit, 18+

Six: Running Away // Joel’s Perspective

Main Masterlist & Series Masterlist - My Ao3

Summary: Your days have become one in the same, even with the terrifying reality of death right outside the walls of Jackson. You never thought you’d be in the situation you’ve been stuck in for seven years now, the daily abuse you endure has become an expectation. You take whatever your husband throws at you, literally and figuratively, because you’ve been trained to believe this is normal. But a new man, Joel, moves next door and happens to be friendly towards you, this causes your husband’s anger to worsen. Your mind starts a gruesome war with itself - can you leave him or do you stay until the inevitable happens?

Chapter Summary: After Joel met you, his whole life changed. Seeing all these events unfold from his perspective definitely makes the whole thing seem more real, and it somehow makes it harder for you to understand.

Word count: 6.3k

⚠️Warnings: mention of abuse from past chapters, fear of losing another loved one, quick mention of rape from past chapter (no description)

—

“Please, do not call her Mrs. Rossi,” Maria pleads.

“Why not? Isn’t that her name?” Ellie chimes from the living room behind Joel’s relaxed body.

All he does is slightly turn his head to the left and squint his eyes at Ellie to tell her to shut up, and she’s quick to shrug her shoulders as he turns back to face Maria, sorry!

“Well, yes, but… Nate, her husband, is an abusive piece of shit. She’s been with him for seven years now and for some reason,” Maria sighs as she shakes her head, “the poor girl won’t leave him. So just, please, don’t call her Mrs. Rossi.”

He nods as he takes a sip of hot coffee as he turns to Ellie once again to make sure she understands, “I’m not stupid, Joel.” He just shakes his head as he still stands in the kitchen that belongs to Tommy and Maria. Why won’t she leave if it’s that bad, floats around his head so much that he can’t help but ask Maria how bad this marriage actually was, before Maria goes down the rabbit hole of it all with him and Ellie.

—

How could someone stay married to such a vile person? It just makes no sense. After only knowing him for less than a year, she married him. I mean, what was she expecting to happen? She didn’t even know who he truly was.

What’s so special about this Nate? How did it become so bad without anyone noticing? Does Nate really hold that much power over her? Shit, clearly he does if this girl won’t leave him, even after beating her so badly she had a goddamn miscarriage.

Joel’s mind can't stop thinking about you and why on earth you would still be married to Nate, it’s simply unbelievable. And with knowing your history before Jackson, it boggles his mind even more because how can this woman who was once the most badass person, now become this weak, pushover of a woman - it just doesn’t make sense.

“She should be getting out of work soon,” Maria announces to Joel and Tommy, the three of them on the porch, watching the snow continue to fall.

“So I’m gonna have her bring you guys to the empty house next to hers, and look, I’m not saying you have to date her, but she needs a change in her life. So just maybe feel it out?”

“Maria, really?” Tommy starts with a laugh but it’s quickly turned into a cough when she looks at him.

“Yes, dear, she needs something more and I really think your brother and Ellie could give that to her!”

“Okay, look,” Joel interrupts, “I’ll give her a chance but if I get any vibe that she’s not digging for more, I’m leaving it at that. I’m not looking for a project.”

Maria nods, fair enough, thank you, and Joel gives a small nod back as he turns back to the snow again, the way the lanterns light up the snow covered street gives Joel a sense of security and hope. Maybe I can have a real life again, just maybe.

—

Wow.

That’s all that Joel’s brain can even begin to fathom about as he watches you walk up to the front porch with Maria where he and Tommy are.

Your beautiful facial features are what initially pull him into you, the way your eyes and nose move with emotion as you listen to Maria and how your nose scrunches and sniffs from the cold winter air is all just icing on the cake.

You haven’t even looked at him the whole time you’ve been chatting with Maria, but he guesses that's what happens after so many years of being abused when you do look at another man - even if it's just to meet someone new or become friends.

He quickly pushes those thoughts away for another time when he hears Maria introduce him to you and then you finally look at him. Joel watches how your breath catches in your chest, and he does the same but he’s a lot better at hiding it than you are.

Joel then reaches his worn hand out to meet your soft one, making sure to not scare you, to be gentle with you. “Nice to meet you darlin’” Falls from his lips with such ease, and he doesn’t even think about it, the whole world coming to a sudden stop as Joel stares at your beauty.

Your eyes shimmer from the the orange porch light that also illuminates your well-aged face, your subtle smile on the corner of your lips, the way your hair is covered in many snowflakes as they slowly melt into it, and all of this combined has Joel wanting to know more about you and how you ended up with Nate. If this is what you looked like after almost a decade of abuse, how gorgeous could you look out of it?

“Yeah, I can definitely do that,” You say smoothly as you continue to stare at Joel. He can’t help but smirk as he says, “Thank you darlin’,” with a natural wink to hint that he is somewhat interested, “gonna go grab the kid, then we can head out.”

—

Joel watches how your body goes rigid walking past your own house and the quick glance you give the mossy colored home. He notices the light through the sheer curtains of what he can only imagine is the living room, maybe even Nate.

Passing your home the three of you reach the navy blue house with a stunning wrap around porch and a huge oak front door. Holy shit - Joel never thought this day would come again, a time where he could be free of worry about death for him and Ellie. It’s such a relief to finally feel safe for once.

His heavy feet on the cream steps causes a slight creek as he slowly walks behind you and he takes a quick glance at your ass. God damn, you fill those jeans out nicely. You take a couple more steps before you reach the huge door and put the key in, pushing the door open and sliding to the side so he and Ellie can go in.

As you turn to him and hold out your finger with the key ring on it, your soft voice rings through his ears, “Welcome home.”

“I call dibs on the shower,” Ellie then shouts as she flies past the two bodies on the porch. This girl, I swear, Joel chuckles. Now it’s just him and you out in the freezing cold weather, and he wants to get a better look at you so he takes a couple steps, ending up across from you and he leans back on the railings for support.

“Thank you, sugar,” your head picks up at the sound of his voice.

Joel notices how your body sways back and forth between both feet, your feet most likely sore, your hands behind your back causing your army green jacket to tighten, and your face showing so much interest and curiosity.

“Will I- we be seeing more of you?” He quickly changes his words, not wanting to seem too desperate. His body language becomes sheltered, one hand behind his neck and the other in his jacket pocket, and he really doesn’t want to scare you away because for the first time in decades, Joel feels like something might come out of this.

The way your body and eyes are contradicting each other with innocence and lust has Joel feeling dazed, she is gonna be the death of me. You then innocently speak, “I sure hope so.”

You’re now only inches away from him, and oh, she’s just as hooked as I am. He takes a couple slow breaths that mesh with yours oh so perfectly. How I just want to grab your face and kiss you and give you everything you deserve, his mind is flowing with all the ideas of things to do for you, how he would make you breakfast every morning, let you do what you please, and treat you with the utmost respect.

Joel’s heart and mind are fighting with each other, his heart wanting to kiss you and his mind telling him it’s way too early for anything like that, even though you have shown you’re interested.

“Goodnight, Miller.”

“Goodnight, Sugar.”

No one moves. Not you, not Joel, both him and you are stuck on the porch, only inches apart from one another. He can tell you don’t want to go home, and why would you? If the light on in the living room is any indication of Nate waiting for you to walk in, Joel knows it won’t be any good for you.

Why do you have to go there? You know you don’t want to, you know you just want to stay here. But I know you’ll never ask, and there’s no way I can ask you - it’s just, too early.

He doesn’t want to send you back over to that so-called home of yours, but if neither he or you are going to ask, he simply must let you go for the night. The exhaustion of the past couple weeks of travel and violence is finally catching up to him, all he wants is to shower and lay down - preferably with you, but he’ll take what he can get.

“Goodnight, Sugar.” He smirks.

“Goodnight, Miller.” You bite your bottom lip which grazes him gently, you tease.

—

“I’m going to bed, G’night Ellie,” Joel yells down the stairs. Night, old man, he gets back, before he shakes his head and chuckles. This teenage girl is ridiculous, but she holds a very special spot in Joel’s heart - Ellie is his other daughter, his saving grace, his purpose.

As he shuts his bedroom door for the night, he can’t stop thinking about you and what is happening next door. Why didn’t I just ask her to stay over, repeats in his mind as he stumbles over to the king size bed that’s covered with gray sheets and a comforter. He sits down with a groan, his elbows rest on his knees and his hands come up to cover his face.

The image of you standing in front of him on the porch, only a mere inch away from him is ingrained into his eyes, it simply won’t leave him alone. He pulls his hands away from his face and stands back up, and his knees pop as he does, walking towards the window that faces your home and the only sign of life is from the one light on - please be okay.

How could he just let you walk right back into the lion's den? The feeling of guilt starts to creep into his mind and heart. If anything happens to you tonight, he’s gonna feel responsible.

—

“Joel, Joel!” Ellie shouts at him and shakes him awake.

“Better be important,” he groans as he slowly sits up under the covers, rubbing his eyes and yawning.

The sound of your name falling from Ellie’s mouth shakes him, he’s immediately up from the mattress and sprints down the stairs, Ellie right on his heels blabbering about how you showed up practically naked and with bruises all over.

He’s in pure terror at the sight of you curled up and shivering on the couch, your hair drenched from the snow, your face covered in blood and your left eye bruised, god damnit. He runs over to you and sits on the coffee table that faces your trembling body, the look on your face is disheartening, he watches as you tighten your arms around your bent legs.

As his eyes make their way to yours he sees the way your expression is a scream for help. Joel can’t stand to see you like this, all he wants to do right now is storm over next door and kick the shit out of this Nate kid. Who the fuck does this to a woman you’re supposed to love and cherish?

“You’re staying here for a little bit, sugar,” He bites through his teeth, wanting to control his rage in front of you.

He watches as you finally let it all go, as you start to blabber some sort of, thank you, caught between your sobs. Joel is quick to jump up and sit next to your shaking body, instinctively pulling you into his lap and starting to rock you as you continue to cry.

I knew not to send her over there, why didn’t I just invite her in? Poor girl, she doesn’t deserve this at all, not in the slightest. God, I could just go over there and kill that son of a bitch. How has no one done anything to help her? She’s so scared and weak, how is she still alive?

About twenty minutes have gone by, and your weeping has stopped but Joel watches your face as singular tears still roll down your cheek down to your neck. Joel can’t stop wanting to know what really happened tonight, and he needs you to say something, anything. Still staring at your figure in his arms, your head laying on his chest as it rises and falls in the rhythm of his, he asks what has been on his mind.

A moment goes by of silence, which Joel was expecting and completely understood - you clearly went through something incredibly traumatic tonight, enough for you to come over to Joel’s, to this man who is practically a stranger, and that alone says something.

He observes as you lift your face to look at him and you both stare into each other's eyes. His are soft and yours are sharp - should be the other way around. Joel feels this tear in his chest at the sight of you broken down to complete helplessness. I could’ve prevented this.

You hesitantly sit yourself up, still in Joel’s lap as he softly wraps his arms around your now sturdy body, just wanting to make you feel safe and comfortable. Okay, um, you start slowly telling him what happened and Joel just listens with intent - he needs to know how you ended up looking like this.

He can’t believe what he is hearing right now, she hid in her bathroom for three fucking hours? He ripped her hair, enough for pieces to be missing, gave her a black eye and bruised her whole body, old and new ones.

What a pig, a sad pathetic waste of a human life.

You’re hysterical by this point, hands flying as your voice continues to rise as you finish your dreadful story, but there’s one more thing you tell him that causes Joel to freeze.

“And I wouldn’t have been raped either.”

It causes this static sound to ring in his ears, the tears that have been begging to flow from his eyes finally roll down his cheek and disappear into his facial hair. Neither Joel or you have broken eye contact, and his eyes can speak more than his own voice can, he’s stunned into silence. I’m gonna kill him.

The sudden feeling of your soft hand on his cheek, as your thumb wipes away the trail of wetness from his tears, brings him back to the beautiful woman sitting in his lap. This woman that he feels he can help bring back to the old her, and that’s exactly what he’s gonna do.

—

Another round of the four seasons come and go. Joel and Ellie have insisted that you move in with them, both of them pleased when you accepted their offer. Joel especially, who never wanted you to step foot back into the hell you came from, even if Nate wasn’t there much - he knew that it held too many memories.

Over the last couple months, Joel and you decided to have a designated game night every Friday with Ellie, Tommy, and Maria. They would bring the food and Joel would supply the game for the evening, which usually ended up being some sort of card game.

“John Travolta’s right hand… Okayyyy,” Ellie drags out as she turns her head to look at Joel with a questionable look. Of course she doesn’t know who John Travolta is, he thinks as he takes a sip of his whiskey. When he sets it down and listens to Ellie continue, he looks over to you and sees you trying to hide your smile. That beautiful smile that makes Joel feel warm and bubbly inside, like a teenager on a first date.

Well it’s gotta be hers, he laughs to himself, you definitely do not have the best poker face, especially with some wine in you. Joel finds it cute when you get all ditzy after a couple drinks, it makes him feel warm because he knows how you weren’t allowed to drink with Nate, so the fact that you do here shows just how comfortable you really are.

“Having no legs, just toes,” Ellie reads, which is followed by you and Ellie bursting into laughter, both of you hitting the table and crying from reading the silly little white card, and Joel starts to laugh at you. She’s perfect.

“That’s the winner!”

“I win!” You shout as you raise your hands in the air and wave them around, and Joel watches as you finally act how you want to, not being scared to do so, there’s that girl Maria was talking about. He’s in complete awe of you and the confidence that has grown so much in the last year - shit, even the last couple months. It’s like you’re a new person, but still the same as before, you've just adapted your older personality with your newer one.

But just imagine a T-Rex with its baby arms and instead of legs, it just has toes, comes from Ellie as she does the baby arms impersonation and the whole table starts loudly laughing. Joel can’t help but smile, Ellie can finally have her teenage years back a little bit, more normal than out beyond the walls.

The conversation has changed, and Joel ends up blocking it out because he can’t stop thinking about the sight of you feeling free. The couple glasses of whiskey have made him feel like tonight could be the night, the night that the months of small flirting can come to an end and can turn into something else, just maybe.

It’s now or never, he thinks and he carefully sets his hand on your bare thigh and gives a soft squeeze. God, I just want to devour her. His eyes glance over to you and he pays close attention to how your body reacts to his new touch, and it pleases him to see the effect he has on you.

The way your chest rises and lowers, your eyes darting to his hand and back to him, the slow smile that grows on your face, then your hand laying on top of his with a gentle squeeze back. Yes, ma’am. A minute goes by of Joel not paying any attention to Maria’s complaining, all his focus on you and only you. He observes, discreetly of course, how you are slowly unwinding, moving close to your breaking point of just going upstairs. I gotta get rid of em’.

—

“Gotta say, darlin’,” Joel says as he slides his jeans off and moves to the head of the bed, “I like you in charge.” And he honestly does, it’s such a difference from your natural attitude that this has Joel attracted to you in a whole new way.

Joel is starstruck at your appearance, the way the green flannel hangs open showing off your sexy black lace bra that fits you perfectly, and he can’t take his eyes off of you. Your movements have Joel in a trance. When you straddle him, his hands almost have a mind of their own, the way they find their spot on your ass and they start to knead your soft skin.

All he wants to do is take care of you, by any means necessary, even if that means only you get the attention and love tonight - that’s perfectly okay with him. You honestly need this more than he does, and he knows that, so all his energy goes to pleasing you and only you. Joel has no problem with not getting anything in return, all he wants is for you to feel good, and honestly, he loves that you feel comfortable enough to be the dominant one. He’s gonna let you do what you want.

He loves watching how your face contorts from the pleasure his fingers give you, the way your hips roll with the rhythm of him. The little noises that escape your mouth have him in shambles, the way your hands snag his hair and it forces him to look at you while you kiss him - he loves it all.

“Let it all go, pretty girl,” Joel coos as you ride out your orgasm that has left you speechless, breathless, he watches how your body freezes and the broken moans roll out of your mouth into his. This is exactly what Joel wanted you to experience tonight - pure ecstasy.

—

The next morning, Joel gets up early and decides he’s gonna make you breakfast, that this is gonna become the new normal for you. He wanted you to have the best treatment here that you could possibly have. He finds some pancake mix and decides, why not, alongside some fresh fruit from your garden next door that you still attend.

“Ellie, can you grab the strawberries please? I’m gonna go grab her,” Joel asks as he exits the kitchen and heads towards the stairs. I really hope she enjoys this, he thinks to himself, and he really wants you to give this a chance because he knows that he’s not the only one who feels the connection the two of you have.

He softly knocks on the door so he doesn’t startle you, but when he doesn’t receive a response, he turns the silver handle. “Darlin’?” He asks to the empty bedroom, must be in the bathroom.

“Bathroom!” You respond quickly, but there’s a hint of something in your voice, something different.

He asks if everything is okay and the way you respond has him thinking you’re scared, or that there’s something you need or want to discuss, but he decides not to push it. He knows that you have your limits, and just by your voice alone, he can tell this is one of those times, so he dismisses himself and tells you that breakfast is ready.

“Hey,” Joel says to Ellie who’s at the dining room table eating her pancakes already, “have you talked to her at all today?”

“No, she’s been upstairs all morning,” she takes a sip of her orange juice, “why?”

“Okay, um- she just seems,” he waits a beat as he sits next to her, “something seems off.”

“Well, we’ll just have to wait and see.”

Joel nods as he picks up his fork and tabs a piece of cut up pancake, and takes a bite just thinking of what possibly could be wrong. What happened?

After about five minutes, you finally come down the steps, and he can tell you’re trying to be quiet, almost mouse-like, but why? You don’t have to be scared here, you’re safe, Joel made sure you knew that and never thought any different. However, that doesn’t seem to be the case right now.

“Hi darlin’,” he chirps as you sit down across from him, “I’ll make you plate real quick.” And all you do is give a weak smile and thank you, and he’s sure that something is definitely wrong. You’re usually quick to say you can do it yourself or you just do it, and as Joel makes your plate and walks back, he looks at Ellie and she mouths, “I see what you’re talking about.”

The whole ten minutes you sit there, Joel and Ellie are trying anything to get you engaged in some sort of conversation, even if it’s stupid. But, nothing works, you just pick and pick at your plate, eating only a handful of bites. What the hell is going on?

Suddenly, you stand up and walk over to the sink but instead of setting your dishes in the sink, you just drop them next to it on the counter. “I’m heading next door to grab a couple things, and then I’m heading to the stables,” you coldly announce and continue to walk to the front door, grabbing your bow and arrow as you swing open the door and shut it behind you.

Joel’s at a loss for words - he can’t believe what he just saw. He thought the two of you had a really good time last night. Like, really good. Joel cannot recall anything negative from last night, game night went great, you two finally got past the flirting game that’s been going on - and oh, that’s it. It finally clicks, you’re not used to getting the attention during sex, sweet thing.

“What did you do, dummy?” Ellie breaks his train of thought from last night. He’s quick to turn his head back to her and just tells her, “Nothing, it all went great last night.” Ellie doesn’t need to know everything that went down between you and him, just not her business, he’ll just play it off as something else.

“Well,” she continues as she takes a bite of pancakes, “If I were you, I would head over there and try to talk to her. But y’know, that’s just me.”

Yeah yeah, Joel responds, like I wasn’t gonna do that anyways, he is almost frozen to his chair, he just can’t believe what events have unfolded right in front of his damn eyes. Why doesn’t she just talk to me?

“So, like, are you gonna go or what?” Ellie reminds him as she pushes his shoulder talking him out of the trance he was in. “Oh, shit,” he stands up, “Yeah, stay here. I’ll be back.” Joel is out the front door in a matter of seconds, heading to your old home you haven’t stepped foot in for months.

As he climbs your steps and reaches the door, he looks in the small window of the front door and he can see the lights on as well as the edge of the hallway closet door. There you are, he then brings his right hand to the door and starts to knock furiously because he has no idea what you’re doing over here, you haven’t been here in forever.

No answer.

God damnit, baby, he starts knocking again because he wants, he needs, to talk to you or at least, listen to what you have to say. Because he really cares and wants to know what is going on in that brain of yours, he wants to help you. With no answer coming from the other side of the door, Joel calls your name, followed by a weak, “I just wanna talk.”

His forehead falls to the window pane with utter defeat, why does she have to do this, she can just talk to me, she should know that by now.

After about three more rounds of knocking and calling out for you, Joel gives up, and he’s not sure what to do anymore. When you want to come back out, he will be right there to listen and hold you, he will be here for you whenever - Joel does not care how long either.

When Joel reaches the sidewalk covered in golden brown leaves, he thinks back to the last thing you said to him, I’m heading next door, then I’m going to the stables. That’s right, the stables, and Joel takes off running down Spruce St. towards them.

Joel passes Tipsy Bison and a couple guys yell out, “If you’re looking for the old lady,” that was your new nickname since people of Jackson knew you weren’t with Nate anymore, “She was talking to Vince about heading out!”

Joel stops his running and takes a couple seconds to catch his breath, “Are you serious?”

They group of men all nod their heads and Joel cannot believe what he just heard, no fucking way, she did not do that, he mumbles to himself. He says a quick thank you to the group and springs towards the stables because he really doesn't think that you left the safety of Jackson.

He notices how the padlock is still on the front doors of the barn, he quickly remembers the fenced area isn’t locked, so he runs back there and jumps over the little fence. When he goes into the stables and scans the barn for Dougie, he sees all the horses, except Dougie. No, no, no, no, he says to himself as he starts to panic.

She did not leave Jackson, no way. That’s just not possible, why would she do that? How could Vince just let her leave all by herself?

The same questions loop around in Joel’s head like a rollercoaster, and he just can’t seem to understand it all, everything seemed to be moving along smoothly last night, until this morning.

The next person to talk to was Vince. How could he let her leave alone? Bounces in his head as he leaves the stables and then hurries towards the front gate, this way he can actually see if you left or not. He scales the small fence and heads towards the big gate that lets people leave and enter Jackson.

As Joel takes a chance to catch his breath, he spots Vince as he takes the last step off the ladder to the top of the gate, there he is. Joel then yells out Vince’s name to grab his attention, as Vince notices Joel and the amount of distress he’s under, his face drops.

“What’s up, Joel?”

“Did she leave?”

As soon as the question leaves Joel’s mouth, Vince knows that something is up.

“Um, like, almost fifteen, twenty minutes ago,” Vince starts but Joel is quick to grab him by his collar and pins him up against the metal gate, causing his feet to dangle off the ground.

“And you just let her leave by herself?” Joel basically spits into this man's face.

“Sh- she told me that Tommy okay-ed it and that you were gonna be right behind her!” Vince rambles as he tries to plant his feet onto stable ground. However, Joel is so enraged that he isn’t thinking clearly, and although his conscience knows that Vince is innocent, his subconscious is not so generous.

Joel’s mind and emotions end up on autopilot. He wants to hurt anyone who he feels is responsible for you leaving Jackson. If Tommy didn’t yell out to him, Joel would surely have killed Vince right then.

Joel lets go of Vince’s collar instantly, and Tommy is quick to step between the two of them to stop whatever violence was about to unfold.

“Woah, woah,” Tommy questions as he stares at Joel, “what is going on?”

Joel can barely think, so many thoughts and questions are crowding his head, and he can’t think straight at all, not with you out there with no one. He knows you can take care of yourself, but it doesn’t hurt to have backup out there. That’s just the truth, and even Joel knows it and admits that.

—

It’s been just under a month of Joel searching for you, or any sign of you. He left Jackson that same day to find you. Joel was not going to give up on you, he knows way too much and cares too much about you, for you to just slip away without any explanation.

He has searched almost everywhere, traveling as much as a couple miles outside the radius of Jackson, but he’s had no luck. Until one day, when he finds the Motel 6 you and Tommy had talked about. Joel had a hunch that you would’ve gone somewhere familiar to you. As he searches the motel rooms, he finds about a dozen dead infected. This has got to be her.

It’s almost pitch black when he reaches the Motel, so he decides to stay in one of the rooms for the night and then pick right back up tomorrow. He doesn’t need to run into raiders or be infected this late in the night - that would just be stupid, he knows better than to do that.

Please, please, please be safe. I know you can hold your own, but please don’t be absolutely fearless. I just want to find you and help you, I just want to help you baby. He repeats to himself over and over until falls into a restless sleep.

The next morning, Joel is right back on his horse and continues East. He’s gotta run into you sometime, right? He ends up running into a group of raiders a couple miles past the Motel 6, a group of five middle-aged men who see Joel as a threat and not a friend.

However, Joel is not bitch. He takes care of the whole group without getting a single scratch or bullet wound, feeling oddly proud of himself for still being able to hold his own. But the feeling of victory is quickly washed away when Joel thinks of you, did you end up getting caught by this group, or even another one.

Joel’s mind is constantly on alert - he hasn’t had this much adrenaline running through his blood since before Jackson. It’s how he felt with Ellie; I have to protect her, she’s under my watch, I can’t just let her slip away from my grasp, she’s my reason to live.

The sun has started to set, the sky is a beautiful mixture of pink and orange, it meshes so beautifully it’s almost unbelievable. The different colors of oranges and reds sway on the trees with the wind as it softly blows, and it causes a chill to run down Joel’s spine.

“Just a little bit further, Rose,” he whispers and pats the side of his beautiful horse, knowing that he’ll have to stop some time soon since the sun is setting. Darkness is not the time to wander around in the nothings of the woods - it’s just not a smart move - but he knows that he has about an hour before the sky turns to pitch black.

She can’t be that far, right? It hasn’t been that long that she's been gone, there’s no way she would just leave Jackson like that. It’s the safest place to be in times like this, there’s no dictatorship and it’s peaceful, really peaceful. Why would she just pick up and leave like that?

About twenty minutes go by before he spots a small cabin about a couple blocks away. Please be there, he mumbles to himself. He softly kicks the side of Rose and she hurries her stride more than before, this has got to be it. Joel’s mind is racing, he’s pleading that you’re at this abandoned cabin. It would make sense, and he has a gut feeling that you wouldn’t up and leave Jackson completely.

When he gets about thirty feet away from the cabin, he sees a female with a bow and arrow pointing directly at him. The way the woman is standing he immediately knows who this is. I finally found her.

Joel jumps off Rose and starts to sprint towards you. He can’t help it, he finally found the love of his life, and he was never going to let you go ever again. He watches as you realize who you’re looking at and your bow drops to the ground, along with your arrow. She knows it’s me.

As he steps foot onto the porch and scoops you up into his arms and spins you around, a mixture of loving words spill out of his mouth.

“My pretty, sweet girl, I thought I lost you forever. What are you doing all the way out here?”

“I’m so sorry,” falls from your mouth over and over, and Joel can’t help but feel sorry for you. The fact that you felt the need to run all the way out here, all so you could simply just get away, was terrifying for Joel to think about. Because why, for the love of god, did you feel better running away than running to Joel for help?

What Joel takes away from this is that, although he knows that some things are more difficult and sensitive for you to work through, he also feels that you need to tell him about these things, instead of just running away.

Tags: @evyiione @oscarissac2099 @southernbe @pedrosfanny @orcasoul

#joel miller #joel miller x f!reader #Is Leaving Even An Option #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfic #joel miller series #joel miller imagine #joel miller au #joel miller fic #joel and reader

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spartanguard · 10 days

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when Emma falls in love [from the vault]

Summary: When Emma falls in love, I know that boy will never be the same | When she came to Storybrooke, finding love was the farthest thing from Emma's mind. Until she started to get to know Ian, the bartender down at the Rabbit Hole. A crush is the last thing she needs—not when she's in the middle of a murder investigation and her son keeps talking about curses. Or maybe it's exactly what both of them need. [Inspired by "When Emma Falls In Love" by Taylor Swift] A/N: This is the next in my series of fics inspired by Taylor Swift's vault tracks (mostly from Speak Now (Taylor's Version), but there will be more!). Wanted to post this before we all died from TTPD tomorrow ;) I think this is also my favorite of the ones I've written so far; hope you like it, too! And, as always, thank you to @optomisticgirl for being the best beta ever. rated T | 6.2k words | AO3

When the door swung open, Emma was half expecting it to be someone from downstairs yelling at her to stop her pacing; too many years living in crappy apartments had done that to her. But it was just Mary Margaret, coming home from work.

That said— “Uh, you okay? If you pace any harder, you’re gonna wear a hole in the floor,” her roommate remarked.

“Ugh, sorry,” Emma answered, taking a seat at one of the barstools at the counter. “It was that or attacking the toaster again.”

“You didn’t get fired again, did you?” Mary Margaret asked as she set a bag of groceries on the counter. “‘Cause last I checked, you were your own boss.”

Emma scoffed. “No; just…other stuff.” She swallowed. “Boy stuff?” (She wasn’t sure why she said it like it was a question, other than the fact that she’d never been one to talk about relationships or anything—never had anyone she could talk to about that, so she wasn’t sure if this was the right way to start.)

“Well, that’s convenient,” Mary Margaret said, and reached into the paper sack. “I bought wine,” she finished, pulling out a cheap screw-top bottle of rosé.

“Might need more than that.”

“Good thing I got two,” she answered, producing another.

They curled up at opposite ends of the couch, not even bothering with wine glasses. After a few (hefty) sips, Mary Margaret looked at her pointedly and Emma was suddenly very aware of why her students respected her so much. “Okay. Spill.”

Emma sighed, but obliged. “Okay, you know the bartender down at the Rabbit Hole?”

“Not well, but I know who he is. Ian, right?”

“Yeah, Ian Johnson. He, uh…I mean, I…” She hummed. “I think I like him.”

“Oh my god, you sound like one of my fifth graders,” Mary Margaret replied. “You’re attracted to him? Or maybe a little more?”

Emma took another pull from her bottle. “Maybe a lot more.”

“I sense a ‘but’ coming.”

(His ass was fantastic, but that was beside the point.) “But…you know how I am. My history. It hasn’t really been that long since Graham…” She still had a hard time saying died.

“I know,” Mary Margaret said softly. “No one says you have to rush into anything. But if you’re feeling something, it doesn’t hurt to pursue it. Especially if he seems to reciprocate.”

Well, that was her other conundrum, wasn’t it: did he? Much like her, he wasn’t really prone to showing emotion—not noticeably, at least; he wore an air of apathy as well as he did his dark-wash jeans. In fact, she didn’t give him much thought after she first met him—when she’d been called to the bar to drag Leroy to the drunk tank on one of her first overnight shifts as a deputy.

She’d definitely seen him, though; Ian was certainly easy on the eyes—perfectly disheveled hair above light blue eyes, just the right amount of gingery stubble, and a hint of chest hair visible through the open vee of his appropriately tight henley—but her thoughts towards him didn’t go deeper than the surface. She also hadn’t missed the quick once-over he gave her, though she couldn’t tell if it was in appreciation or merely assessment.

It wasn’t until her following visit (Leroy’s next trip to the station’s overnight accommodations) that he did more than hum at her, but there was very little effort in the casual pickup line he threw at her (and she did her damnedest to ignore the lilt of his foreign accent).

She knew his kind—or so she thought: the type of asshole who hid behind a pretty face and a quick come-on and that was all it took to get into a girl’s pants. Frankly, that was something she’d fallen for a few too many times, but not here—not in Storybrooke. Not when Regina was constantly looking for a reason to send her out of town (even if she won that sheriff election fair and square, Gold’s involvement notwithstanding) or limit her time with Henry.

It wasn’t until the first time she got a call at the bar after Graham died that she exchanged more than passing pleasantries with him. Ian wasn’t the first to express his condolences, but he was the first to say, “It’s just not fair.” That was exactly how she felt, too. And that’s when things started to shift between them.

(Apparently, he and Graham went way back—he didn’t specify how far, but it sounded like a while, the kind of vague forever that seemed prevalent in such a small town. Graham had helped him out of a few scrapes, and vice versa. “He was a good man,” Ian had concluded. “Seems those always go too soon.” It felt like there was more to go with that statement, but then “Only the Good Die Young” had come on the jukebox and it was a little too on the nose and she had to get out of there.)

But it really took a turn the night he intervened while she was breaking up a bar fight, getting in the way of a drunken punch meant for her and taking it in the cheek instead. (That was also the night she finally noticed his left arm ended not in a hand, but a prosthesis, as she made the assailant wait in the squad car while she put together an ice pack for Ian’s face; she also found out that night that he mixed a mean whiskey sour.)

So they were…she wasn’t sure if they could really say “friends” after that—not quite a team, either; allies, maybe? Whatever it was, it was definitely something she needed.

She started to run into him at Granny’s after that. The first time, she was getting her morning coffee before heading into the station; he was getting some tea before heading home after closing the bar. Then they’d see each other at lunch hour; if the diner was full, they shared a booth. But then that became something of a habit, too, on the days he didn’t close and she didn’t work overnight (though they eventually started another of sharing a drink at the end of their late-night shifts).

Admittedly, it was a little awkward at first; Emma had never been great at the whole small-talk thing (and even worse at the making-friends thing)—but on the bright side, so was he. She found out little things, like when a favorite song would come on (“Behind Blue Eyes” was up there, unsurprisingly/heartbreakingly), or when she’d ask for a liquor recommendation (rum—always rum). She let slip at one point how much she enjoyed Motown, and he quickly picked up on her hot chocolate order.

More solid information came to light later; as she’d guessed, he was a loner, too—no family left, and had drifted around England and the US until he ended up in Storybrooke, somehow. He made an appreciative comment about her being a fellow jailbird over a beat-up copy of that awful article in the Mirror, but his face fell when she mentioned how old she’d been—a rare emotional moment for him. (But not as intense as when she’d commented on the tattoo on his forearm late one night, and the unmistakable look of loss took over; all they could do at that point was make a toast to living through heartbreak.)

It was…she didn’t want to say easy, but it was nice—there were no expectations, no responsibilities. Just the pleasure of each other’s company, and a sense of kindred comraderie.

She was also aware, but ignoring the fact, that the less she knew, the better. There was less chance that he was lying to her or holding something back; less chance for him to get disappointed in who she was. (Less chance to be hurt.)

“He does, right?” Mary Margaret’s question dragged her back to the present.

Which brought Emma to the downside of being attracted to someone whose walls abutted hers: it was hard to get a read on what was going on in his head, especially when he wasn’t outwardly expressive (more than when they first met, but it was still rare). All she could do was shrug at her roommate and take another pull of wine.

“Yeah, he’s always come off as kind of aloof,” Mary Margaret agreed. “Not altogether unfeeling—more like, not a lot?”

Emma was the last person to make any comments there. What was it she’d said to Graham? “Not feeling anything is an attractive option when what you're feeling sucks.” They both had reason enough for that.

“But it looks like you’ve gotten closer to him than anyone in a while,” her roommate went on, “and vice versa?”

“More or less,” Emma conceded. “Present company notwithstanding.”

“I’m honored. And you know what I say about hope,” she answered.

Emma did, but wasn’t sure she was ready to say she was that far in. She extended the end of her bottle to Mary Margaret, who clinked her own against it in solidarity.

By the end of the night, she had no further clarity on the situation and the beginnings of a hangover. Maybe she was overthinking it—or maybe it wasn’t even worth overthinking; it’s not like these things ever worked out in her favor anyway.

But…she did keep thinking about hope.

———.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.———

Her friends eventually dragged her out to the Rabbit Hole for a girls’ night. They’d cited the fact that she missed all the excitement on Valentine’s Day, with Ashley’s engagement, so she needed to make up for it.

Despite still being new to the whole having-female-friends thing (having any friends, really), she had fun. Ian poured the drinks strong and sent more than a few small, sideways grins her way as he watched her dance with the others. She was hoping her subsequent blush could be blamed on exertion or alcohol, except—

“Oh my god,” Ruby yelled at her as they returned to their booth for a refreshment. “Just go screw him already.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’ve been eye-fucking the bartender all night! Go do something about it!”

Well, now her cheeks surely matched her bright red dress—and, to make it worse (or better, Ruby would probably say), when she glanced over at Ian a moment later to see if he’d heard, he was smirking and raised an eyebrow as soon as she caught his eye.

(They hadn’t crossed that line yet but—it had been close. She’d been all too aware of the proximity of their lips when she was helping him shut down last week and they’d collided in the back hall—her hands on his firm chest, his coming to her waist, the dart of her eyes to his mouth—she’d basically sprinted out of there.)

There was definitely an itch to scratch, but she wasn’t about to go there with him. Because she knew, with him, it would be so much more than that. (And if he didn’t reciprocate…that would be even worse.)

“So I hear you’ve been hanging out with the bartender,” Regina asked her one day after she dropped Henry off at the mayor’s house.

Emma shrugged. “I guess,” she answered, downplaying whatever it was they had—if only because she had a feeling Regina would find a way to weaponize it.

(Also, he was good with Henry—like, really good, maybe even better than she was. For someone who didn’t appear to care much about…anything, he always seemed to brighten and engage so much more around her kid whenever they ran into him at Granny’s. He even indulged Henry’s theories about the “curse”, but her son hadn’t decided who Ian was in this supposed other life. Emma didn’t have any ideas, either, if only because that meant Ian was the one person safe from Henry’s childlike scrutiny.)

“Even with everything he’s done?”

That got her attention. “What has he done?”

“More like what hasn’t he done; you’re the sheriff—you could look up his rap sheet. He’s got some blood on those hands—well, hand. Has he even mentioned how that happened?”

“No,” Emma said stiffly. “He hasn’t.”

“I don’t suppose he’s mentioned anything about his ex either, then. Who was married.”

“Uh, no.”

“Well, maybe you should look into it—so you can be aware of just who you’re allowing around my son.”

The mayor pointedly closed the door at that, leaving Emma alone with her thoughts—never a good combination. She was mulling it over on the drive to the station—how much did she actually believe what Regina was saying?

But her curiosity was too piqued to let it rest. She felt like the biggest asshole, but after she got settled for the start of her shift, she ended up in the records room, particularly in front of the drawer labeled H–J.

As much as she didn’t want to—she had to know. She slid the drawer open and dug through the folders, until she found the one near the back labeled Johnson, Ian Brennan.

It was thick. His ‘jailbird’ comment from a while back returned to her; she thought he’d been joking at the time.

She didn’t look inside until she was in her office, with the door shut—not that she expected any visitors, least of all him (he was working anyways), but she still felt like she was doing something wrong, even if she had perfectly legal access to these files.

She took a deep breath and flipped it open.

Ian was glaring at her from the photo paper-clipped to the stack of forms—a bit younger, a bit angrier than the man she knew, with a fire in those blue eyes she’d never seen, even from behind a layer of guyliner and shaggy bangs.

Beneath it, typed out, it listed his name, birthdate (although the year was smudged beyond recognition), that he was born in England, and a charge for drunk driving.

The next sheet: illegal possession of a firearm.

The next several that followed included a handful of drug-related charges, mostly involving the transporting of them.

The last page said manslaughter.

She slammed the folder shut and threw it in the empty bottom drawer of her desk.

In vain, she tried to pretend she hadn’t seen it. Maybe someone planted it there? She wouldn’t put it past Regina, though as to why, she couldn’t guess. The comments about an affair, though—she’d done the whole dating-a-married-guy thing; it hadn’t ended well, but it still wasn’t something she was keen on.

For the next week or so, she managed to avoid him—took all her Granny’s orders to go; sent Ruby to deal with anything at the bar; and one time, ran down an alley when she saw him coming the opposite way down the sidewalk. (She didn’t say she was mature about it…or subtle.)

When she got home later that week, there were two bottles of rosé on the counter again. “My turn,” Mary Margaret said, handing one over.

Was infidelity just a thing here? Because now her roommate was dealing with it, too. Emma’s opinion of David wasn’t the highest at the moment—he couldn’t string her best friend along and stay with his wife—but the longer Mary Margaret pursued this, the more heartache it was gonna cause.

“Thanks for talking to me about it,” she said, halfway through the bottle. “What about you? How are things with Ian?”

Emma took a long, long drink.

“Gotcha,” Mary Margaret said knowingly.

———.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.———

It came to a head when she was in the station one morning, having arrived to her shift early in order to avoid seeing him at the diner. She was dealing with some paperwork when she heard the front door open. “In here,” she called out, assuming it was Regina telling her off for something she hadn’t done right. Footsteps approached. “What would you like to yell at me about today, Madam Mayor?” she asked sarcastically.

“I hadn’t planned on yelling, but I did want to ask why you’ve been avoiding me.”

Oh shit. Ian was there in the doorway, a coffee cup and bag from Granny’s in his hand, and a serious set in his stare.

“I haven’t,” she lied, then turned back to the computer screen (not that it was doing anything—it still ran Windows 98, after all). “I’ve just been busy.”

“See, I’m actually quite perceptive,” he replied, then stepped forward to set the foodstuffs on the corner of her desk. “And this? This is avoiding.”

She closed her eyes and sighed. “Yeah,” she had to admit. They’d always been honest with each other, even if they’d clearly withheld some things. And given how poorly her attempted lie a moment ago went, it would be dumb to try to again.

“What is it, love? Did I do something wrong?”

She opened her eyes to look up at him, and regretted it—he looked genuinely hurt. What she was about to do probably wouldn’t help.

Staying seated, she bent down to open the bottom drawer on her desk, and then pulled out his file. Then she carefully set it in front of her.

He immediately recognized it, she could tell. “Ah.”

“I’m sorry; I was talking to Regina and she said some things and—curiosity got the best of me.”

“I see.”

She couldn’t tell if he was angry or hurt—or both—but either way, she felt like an ass. May as well throw fuel on the fire. “She mentioned something about your ex, too—specifically, her marital status.”

“She did, did she?” His words were suddenly emotionless.

“Is…is that all you’re gonna say?” she eventually asked quietly.

He blinked slowly, as when he opened his eyes, they were just a bit duller—a bit more reserved. (That was worse than anything else she’d seen recently.)

“What else needs to be said, Swan?” he shrugged. “You apparently have all you need to know right there, between that and whatever the mayor has told you.”

His gaze settled somewhere near the floor and silence stretched uncomfortably between them. Even louder to her, though, was the fact he was just…accepting it.

“Seriously?” she snapped. “You’re not gonna defend yourself, or fight back at whatever is incorrect in my assumptions?”

He furrowed his brow. “What good would it do?”

“Show me you give a crap!” she shouted, standing so fast it sent her rolling chair sliding into the wall. “Because I’m trying to figure out whatever the hell this is,” she went on, gesturing between them, “but I can’t tell if you actually care or not.”

Finally, something steely settled in his gaze.

“Not feeling anything is an attractive option when what you’re feeling sucks,” he stated, plainly but pointedly.

She swallowed at the recitation of what she once had said to Graham. She already knew she wasn’t the first sheriff to strike up a friendship with him, but she was probably the only one Ian had thrown their own words back at.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t make it go away,” she countered.

“If you do it long enough, it does.”

“And then what? You just never feel anything for the rest of your life?” God, Mary Margaret was really rubbing off on her—though that didn’t mean her calling him out wasn’t a little hypocritical.

“It had been working well for me.”

“Fine then,” she spat. “You can go back to your lonely existence and I’ll fuck off to mine and we’ll just leave it at that.” She crossed her arms and curled in on herself; she was definitely pouting, but the alternative was flopping back in her seat and crying.

His face relaxed, almost going the other way into a frown. “Bloody hell, that’s not what—no, love, I—I just thought you knew me better than that,” he admitted, almost apologetically.

“Well, apparently I don’t,” she parroted back. “I’m wondering if I know anything about you. This is some serious shit, Ian.”

“And I thought you of all people might understand that,” he said matter-of-factly. “I remember the headlines after you arrived in town; just because you have a badge now doesn’t mean you’ve always been on the right side of the law, either.”

“I’m not pretending I didn’t!”

“Neither am I. I just don’t go broadcasting it, given that I still have the option not to.”

“Yeah, I don’t think I’d be telling people I killed someone either.”

“I—” He started to talk, but then closed his mouth and clenched his jaw. After taking a deep breath, he said, “Not that I really need to, but can I tell you the full story? Before you completely write me off?”

She nodded, but held back what she was really thinking: that she didn’t want him to write himself off.

“I did get into some bad shit,” he started. “My brother was gone, my ex had just died, and I was suddenly an amputee, so I was alone and spiraling. Fell in with the wrong crowd—classic story. Got in deep with a drug ring, and then I got caught. Killed a member of a warring cartel in the process. But, by some miracle, I had a great lawyer. They got a few of the charges thrown out for lack of evidence and I reached a plea deal on the others, along with a heavily reduced sentence for my cooperation in taking down much of the rest of the ring. Did my time, now I’m here. And I regret it every day.”

“Damn.” That was heavier than expected.

“Aye.” He scratched nervously behind his ear. “Anything else?”

She chewed her bottom lip; she was nervous to ask, but she had to. “So, your ex…”

“My ex was married when we met. But it wasn’t a happy marriage. And I didn’t lure her away, or whatever may have been said—she ran off with me. But I loved her, so I went with it. Until her husband found us and went mad. Tried to cut off my hand; stabbed her. Doctors had to take it the rest of the way off,” he explained, raising his prosthesis. “Add that to the list of reasons why I fell in with the wrong people.”

Fuck. “Yeah, that’ll do it.”

“Indeed.” He toyed with the fingers on his false hand for a moment, and then looked back up at her. “But Swan, why couldn’t you just ask me that? Rather than take the word of a woman who we’ve all seen lie to you—to everyone—before.”

She swallowed. “Because I couldn’t take the chance I was wrong about you.”

“Were you?”

It took her by surprise. “Was I what?”

“Were you wrong about me?” He was staring back at her intently, like he hadn’t just asked a simple but potentially earth-shattering question—but also looked like he was bracing for impact.

She nearly stopped breathing. Not that she had planned any part of this conversation, but when she imagined talking to him again, she thought it’d be more about her figuring out whether he’d let her inside his walls. Logically, it was only fair that he did the same; it was just the first time anyone had followed her in—not to mention challenged her once they were there. (Especially not someone with intense blue eyes, bolder than she’d yet seen them.) And she didn’t know how to respond.

“Because I know I’m not the biggest catch or anything—I’m certainly not Graham—” he went on (and apparently knew where to sting her), “and yeah, I probably still drink a bit more rum than is advised, but other than this—” he nodded at the folder, “—I’ve been nothing but honest with you. So now it’s up to you to decide: whatever it is you’re worried about—were you wrong?”

It had been a long-ass time since anyone had been that bluntly honest with her. (And never someone she was interested in.)

He was right—her lie detector had never gone off with him, either. (It also hadn’t when Regina was gossiping, but it was a little less accurate with noticing exaggerations or omissions.)

He’d never really answered her earlier question, though. “I just need to know one thing,” she said as she stepped around the desk. “I’m not alone in feeling…this, right?” she asked, blatantly stepping into his space.

“No,” he confirmed on a breath.

“Then no, I wasn’t wrong. I think what I was actually scared of…was that I was right.”

“Right?”

She grabbed the lapels of his jacket and quickly found his lips, kissing away any further confusion. (As she was finding out, they were both a bit better at nonverbal communication.)

(And he did taste a bit like rum, but—she liked it.)

———.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.———

She wanted to say things changed from there—they took it fast, or slow, or whatever—but in reality, their relationship really didn’t change. There were still the meals at Granny’s, the nights at the bar. She’d never really been a date-night kind of girl. But emotionally—woah.

It was like she was seeing a whole other side of Ian—but at the same time, it felt like it had always been there, just hiding below the surface. It wasn’t a universal thing—he was still a bit reserved while at work, or around just about anyone other than her and Henry—which made what they had feel all the more special.

There were also more than a few makeout sessions sprinkled in there, too. (Being chased out of the back hall of Granny’s by said proprietress, giggling like teenagers, was one of her more cherished memories since arriving here.)

For a short while, it was simple and sweet and it made her happy. For a little bit, she maybe had the kind of life she’d always hoped—with her son, friends, and a guy she really liked.

But it was like the universe noticed or something—no, Emma Swan couldn’t simply have nice things. Shit always, inevitably hit the fan.

Starting with having to arrest and book her roommate for murder.

She texted ahead and he had a shot waiting for her when she got to the bar after, then a couple more after that. She was definitely loitering—and he could tell. “What is it, love? Aside from the obvious.”

One thing she’d realized: he was exceedingly good at reading her, like a book he couldn’t put down.

“I don’t want to go back to the apartment,” she admitted. “It’s not that I’m afraid to be alone, but knowing that she’s in a cell and I’m there—and that someone may have been in the loft—I just…it freaks me out a bit.”

He swallowed. “Forgive me if this is too forward, but…I could go with you,” he offered. “At least to make sure everything is safe.”

“I’d like that.”

The walk to the loft from the Rabbit Hole was short but filled with energy; there was literally no reason for her to be any sort of excited, but she never invited guys back to her place. Even if she had no plans of anything intimate happening, this was something of a big step for her.

Of course, it ended up being anticlimactic—there was nothing amiss in the flat—but she was still hesitant to want to leave his presence, while at the same time not wanting to seem needy or like she was coming onto him in a subversive way.

“I, uh, could sleep on the couch, if you’d feel better,” he offered, doing that adorable nervous scratch behind the ear. Right—it had been a while for him with this kind of stuff, too.

“Um, yeah, I would. Thanks.”

That was the night she learned he snored—but the sound eventually lulled her to sleep, too.

As it did for the next few nights.

Then came the one after she narrowly escaped that crazy Jefferson’s house with Mary Margaret. She was still shaking as she took the stairs to the apartment and almost didn’t notice Ian sitting on the landing, nearly tripping over his feet.

“Swan, what’s wrong? You never answered my texts so I got worried and came here and, well—I wasn’t sure who to call when the sheriff is the one missing.”

She invited him in—or tried to, but she was trembling so much, she could barely get the key in the lock. Not until his steady hand wrapped around hers and helped.

Once inside, she nearly collapsed just closing the door—both out of relief, and because her adrenaline was finally wearing off. But Ian caught her. And for the first time in years, she let herself be comforted by someone else. (She didn’t cry—she wasn’t ready for that kind of vulnerability yet—but this was kind of a big deal.)

“Do you want me to stay on the couch again tonight?” he murmured when she began to sway, fatigue winning over. She shook her head into his shoulder. (Also: he smelled good. Like, real good.) “Should…should I go?” She shook her head again.

Emma wasn’t a spooner. She took what she needed and then she left. But that was the night she understood why people enjoyed it so much. And waking up still wrapped in his strong arms was a kind of comfort she hadn’t known existed.

There was a brief—but weird—reprieve from the emotional heaviness when it turned out Kathryn Nolan was miraculously alive (despite her heart supposedly being outside her body), and then they held a party to welcome Mary Margaret back home. She shared (more than) a few drinks with Ian after the former; their first official outing as a couple, if it could be called that, was the latter. Mary Margaret arched an eyebrow and smirked at her as she and Ian moved around the kitchen getting ready. Emma just blushed—and then blushed harder when Ian pressed a quick kiss on her cheek as he stepped past her.

Then August kind of went crazy—his offer of help in dealing with the Regina-Sidney-whatever turned into another journey of emotional whiplash. She slumped onto what had become her usual stool at the bar, just a few minutes before close. Ian put some tea in front of her rather than anything stronger and took her upstairs after he’d locked up. He lived there, apparently, in a pretty spartan studio apartment.

“Tell me,” he said gently. Not long ago, she would have brushed something like that off—but not anymore; not with him.

“I’m just tired of all this crap. Not just Regina—the whole curse thing, too. It was fine when it was Henry and I could play along, but now August? And he just—expected me to solve his problem? Just like that? No—no way.” She sighed. “It’s like everyone wants something from me or to fit some role; no one wants just Emma.”

“Ah, that’s where you’re wrong,” he teased lightly. “Because I do.”

Well. She couldn’t argue with that.

And it became all the more obvious when she attacked his lips—and realized the rest of him was in agreement. She’d hesitated to take their relationship to that level; physical relationships were what she was used to, but adding in the emotional layer was something else—something more.

But, as she learned, that was in a good way.

And while drifting off into a post-coital slumber while wrapped in Ian’s steady arms, she didn’t really care what went on in the outside world—as long as she had this.

———.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.———

Should have known that’s when it would all really, truly crash down on her. Henry—god—seeing him in that hospital bed…and not being able to do anything…but it worked: she believed. In magic, the curse—everything. (Especially once Regina confirmed it.)

So now she was on a mission, practically storming from the hospital—when she ran into a pair of arms she’d give anything to just be able to take shelter in right now. “Love—is Henry okay? What’s going on?”

For a minute, she just looked in Ian’s eyes: that now-familiar blue that carried a wisdom beyond his years and echoed his every emotion, so different now from when she’d first met him—but in a good way. The way his worry creased his brow, the weight of his hand on her waist. If the world was about to change, she wanted to memorize him—them—in this moment. “Is everything alright?” he asked again.

She rose up on her toes to give him a firm, but all-too-brief kiss. “It fucking will be,” she told him, then ran off to save the world—or something.

———.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.———

An eternity later (really only a couple hours, but holy shit did it feel longer), she had fought a dragon and then apparently broken a goddamn curse with True Love’s Kiss. All that really mattered was that Henry was okay, but all around her, everyone was coming to terms with what had been done to all of them.

She’d never expected to find out the waitress was a werewolf, or the therapist was a freaking cricket—and really never thought she’d be reunited with her parents. It was amazing, but it was also a lot.

She left Henry with his grandparents—god, grandparents—so she could take a minute and just—breathe.

The salty sea air hit her nose and she realized her feet had taken her to the docks. The view of the sea was soothing, but then she saw someone else there taking in the horizon—someone familiar. He wore the same clothes—the same motorcycle jacket, the black sweater that fit him extremely well, atop his usual dark jeans. But rather than the hand-like prosthesis she’d come to recognize, there was a hook—a freaking stereotypical pirate hook—at the end of his left arm.

(Henry had told her the fairytale counterpart of just about everyone in town—except for Ian. The illustrations in his book were good but maybe not distinct and there were a few options. She had a pretty good idea who it was narrowed down to now, though.)

“Ian?” she asked as she approached, partly to get his attention—and partly because she wasn’t sure who she was talking to.

He turned at the sound of her voice, but looked confused. Until he blinked and shook his head. “Aye, it’s me,” he answered, moving toward her. “My real name, though—it’s Killian, Killian Jones; it…took me a minute there.”

Killian. Similar, but different. It suited him.

But also: Kill-Ian—was the man she held so important now gone, effectively killed by his new—true—self?

“So…how much was real? About you?” she had to ask.

“Some of it.” Apparently that nervous ear scratch carried over. “I am—was—am? A pirate, for decades, until I was caught.”

“Captain Hook?” she wondered, nodding at his prosthesis.

“Ah, so you’ve heard of me,” he smirked. It was similar to the one she knew—the same dimple—but it had a darker edge to it.

“Who hasn’t?” she replied, ignoring the bit of discomfort that was…well, adding to her overall sense of unease.

“The truth—my actual life—is a bit more gruesome than what I once told you. I wanted revenge for the murder of my love. That part was true—she had been the Dark One’s wife, and he killed her, then took my hand.” He emphasized it by toying with the (rather sharp) end of his hook.

Right; Mr. Gold was apparently—actually—a centuries-old sorcerer. “I’m not gonna have to lock you up for going after him, am I?”

“No. See, I got sloppy; I lost sight of things, and that’s how I was caught—by your parents’ kingdom, actually. Was about to be hanged when the Evil Queen’s knight rescued me. Graham.” Her heart skipped a beat. “In return, I offered them my services should they ever need them. Never heard from them again, and then got swept up in the curse.”

She swallowed. “Did she ever take you up on it? During the curse?”

He shook his head. “Never.”

“So, us…” God, she couldn’t even put it into words. If what they’d shared wasn’t…hadn’t meant…she couldn’t fathom.

He very quickly moved into her space and took her hand. “That was very real, Swan.” His gaze had never felt more intense as he went on. “It was my understanding that the curse twisted things—changed us. I had always been someone who felt things very strongly and deeply; it’s why I was so single-mindedly focused on revenge for decades. But then under the curse…I felt nothing—not a bloody thing, for years on end—until I met you, and it all came back. It was like my heart was turned back on—like you brought me back to life.” He rubbed his coarse thumb over the back of her hand. “I know you’re probably questioning things again—especially given that you don’t fully know me, the real version, now—but Emma, I still know you, and I still desperately want you.”

She sighed in relief and nearly sagged into his arms. “Good. Because I think I love you.”

He smiled; it started as a small thing, but he couldn’t hold back from turning into a grin. “That’s appropriate, because I’m fairly certain I love you, too.”

There was a lot she needed to figure out—her life was all kinds of a mess right now—but him—this—whoever he was, he was hers. Even if she didn’t fully know him, it still felt like her heart fit right in the palm of his hand (and vice versa).

She wasted no further time in wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her lips to his; he was equally quick to reciprocate.

And, actually? Killian kissed even better than Ian did.

———.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.———

thanks for reading! Tagging some friends (including the fabulous and supportive Word Forge): @ohmightydevviepuu @shireness-says @iverna @thejollyroger-writer @wistfulcynic @phiralovesloki @initiala @idoltina @xpumpkindumplingx @cocohook38 @kmomof4 @colinoeyebrows @pirateherokillian @annytecture @stubblesandwich @wingedlioness @scientificapricot @snowbellewells @searchingwardrobes @jrob64 and I know there's more I tend to include but tumblr is being weird about it rn.

#cs ff #captain swan #cursed killian au #spartanguard: from the vault #my ff

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