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pixie-in-a-moonlantern · 1 month

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F/M Durgetash one-shot I birthed within a single day. Dead Dove: I don't like Gortash (hence the title), but I do find him mysteriously, annoyingly attractive. Couldn't get him out of my head - so I tried, the best way I knew how - by writing a fic xD. I hope you like it, but it's not essential to my wellbeing, I just really needed to get this off my chest. But it's been fun, so hopefully you'll have fun too.

Explicit 18+, F/M, Enver Gortash / The Dark Urge (old name Talas, new name Nara, some half-elf or other, unimportant), rough sex, cunnilingus, p in v, creampie, some emotional trauma, light stabbing/cutting with a dagger, a bit of aftercare in the form of bathing together.

Yes, Gortash bathes in this story. TWICE. He really needs it :P.

I Don't Like You

01 - Brain worms having a field day.

The night is slowly creeping in, but I’m in no state of mind to sleep. I pace and I rake my hair and I groan. My friends are watching me with concern in their eyes. I can’t blame them—I must look like a lunatic, more so than usually.

I feel like I’m going insane and for a whole new set of reasons than before.

What were we?

Gortash got into my head and now he’s refusing to leave. Was he just trying to mess with me? Did he notice the unmasked disdain in my face and decide to make my skin crawl in revenge? He must know I only have red fog in my brain where my past should be. And he looks just like the kind of man who would lie about it to make me nauseated. No way I’ve ever let those grubby hands touch me.

Yet…

I can hardly admit it to myself, but nausea is not the full extent of my reaction. I feel as if my own body knows this man. My memory is still a blank page, but something in me recognizes him. Something primal. Something hungry.

The urges I’ve been having since meeting Gortash have very little to do with Bhaal.

“Honeymuffin, are you still not ready for bed?”

I hear Halsin’s soothing voice and immediately feel myself relaxing. I turn to him, grateful for the distraction. He’s only dressed in his underpants and the sight of his bushy chest hits a dirty note.

I ignore his question and just press into him, kissing his gentle lips with ferociousness he hasn’t experienced from me yet. He’s responsive and gives in for a few seconds, but then chuckles into my mouth and drags me off of him by the shoulders to inspect me.

“What has gotten into you, my love?”

I groan, freeing myself from his grip. I always appreciate how sensitive he is to my moods and thoughts, but right now, I would die of embarrassment if someone actually found out what’s running through my head.

“I’m just irritated,” I lie through my teeth. “Gortash is one annoying son of a bitch. I hate that we have to pretend to work with him. ‘Notice the way he just kept us there under the threat of violence, to witness his sham of an inauguration? After everything he said about wanting to be partners? Ugh, I could just…” My fists close of their own accord, crushing the imaginary windpipe.

Halsin chuckles again and runs a calloused palm softly along my jaw in a comforting gesture.

“I know, Nara, I know,” he grumbles low, pulling me into a hug. “He irked me, as well. He isn’t worth the stress, though. Let’s sleep. We have another long day ahead of us tomorrow.”

But I can’t sleep. Once Halsin goes into his trance, it’s like he’s not here to hold me together anymore. I toss and turn. I grit my teeth. I grunt and pull on my hair. I try to silence my thoughts with a pillow over my head. It’s no use. I know what I have to do to get some peace of mind.

I get up as quietly as I possibly can. I don’t bother changing—I don’t plan to impress anyone. I just take a small dagger and throw a cloak over my shoulders, so I can hide in the shadows more easily, and sneak out of the inn.

I’m going to make him tell me the truth.

02 - Urge! But not to kill.

Getting into the Wyrmrock is laughably easy. I know the guards would just let me pass, but there’s no way in the Nine Hells I would embarrass myself like that. Little ol’ me going to see “Lord” Gortash in my casual clothes in the middle of the night—what a delicious story for the Baldur’s Mouth it would make. So I utilize every last muscle memory from the past I don’t remember, slipping in completely undetected.

He’s in the throne room, but not sitting on the damned thing. The main section is drowning in darkness, but I see a sliver of light coming from behind the door to one of the adjacent rooms. A study, maybe?

I almost trigger one of the traps as I’m sneaking towards him. There are Steel Watch still stationed around the room, but they appear less than attentive this time. Do they have some sort of down time? Or did Gortash put them in do-not-disturb mode?

I’m trying to not get myself executed, so I push down the instinct to grip the dagger I’m hiding under the cloak. If he wanted me dead, he wouldn’t have made such theatrics to gain my cooperation this morning. The question of whether I wanted him dead remains to be answered.

I take a quiet peek into the warmly lit room and suppress a whistle. It’s a study alright, but one Gortash seems to be using as an apartment—a wide, comfortable, richly adorned bed stands next to his desk, draped in red silk. He’s not in it, though—he sits by the desk, bent over a document, clad only in what looks like a bathrobe.

I try to filter myself through the crack in the door, but the stupid hinges creak so loud I gasp and just inelegantly stumble inside.

Gortash jumps off his chair and twirls around, body taut, eyes alert, a quill in his left hand held like a weapon, the other hand ready to shove the metal claws of his fancy gold netherstone-adorned gauntlet into someone’s eye. I grit my teeth and consider pulling out the dagger—but the second his gaze lands on me, he straightens and lets out a half relieved, half amused chortle.

“Sneaking up on me again?” He shakes his shaggy head. “Are Bhaalists simply unable to set up a meeting, like the rest of us?”

I open my mouth, a scathing comeback ready, but as soon as I let the air in the room in, I’m stunned. There’s a distinct fragrance of soap and perfume, a freshness that only comes from thoroughly scrubbing yourself clean, and, among them, the unmistakable scent of him. The musk that speaks directly to the undamaged parts of my brain.

I can’t believe how clean Gortash looks now. He evidently didn’t plan on any public appearances this late at night, so even his hair is not styled into spikes anymore and it’s just messily sticking out in natural directions, still a little damp from the bath. Funny—he didn’t think to wash before his big inauguration, but he washed now, when no one important is scheduled to see him?

He takes my silence as an opportunity to speak more, instead of waiting for an answer. He tilts his head, gaze slowly gliding down my body, and smirks.

“Shouldn’t you be curled on your bed next to the enormous druid, sleeping soundly? Wouldn’t he be oh so hurt if he knew you were seeking another man’s company?”

“What the fuck would you know?” I snap, his tone setting off a charge of anger inside me. “You don’t know him. Hells, you don’t know me! You don’t get to make snarky remarks about my enormous druid.”

Gortash cackles quietly and puts up his hands in a calming gesture.

“Of course I don’t.” His smirk deepens, his eyes studying my face. “But trust me, kitten. No one…” he takes a seductive little step towards me, “knows you like I do.”

“I doubt that,” I rasp barely audibly, a lump forming in my throat. My guts clench, breath shortening in panic. It’s all just an elaborate joke, I’m sure… but it feels so familiar.

“You really don’t remember,” he quips softly, as if to himself, and I can hear a hint of disappointment in his tone.

“What were we, Gortash?” I whisper, voice quivering on the cusp of a mental breakdown.

He stares at me, chewing his cheek, and his answer is a single word: “Enver.”

“What?” I scowl, anger rising again.

“My name,” he reminds me quietly. “You used to call me Enver, sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me pet names, Gortash,” I force through my teeth. “Whatever you dreamed was between us, it’s most definitely not there anymore.”

“Alright.” He presses his lips together in annoyance, but steps closer, eyes radiating something close to malice. I gulp, my hand curling into a fist, pressing to the hilt at my hip. “I won’t call you kitten, or love, or sweetheart. Those were all just words I used to tease you with.” Drawling, stretching his words, he hovers above me. “But I have earned the right to call you Talas.”

That makes me pause and I just blink at him blankly for a second. “Who’s that?”

Genuine shock colors his face. He takes a step back, mouth agape. “That you don’t remember my name, I would understand. But how do you not remember your own?”

“Because someone caved my head in, trying to kill me!” I scream, suddenly overflowing with something I haven’t felt for a while: self-pity. I feel tears prickle in my eyes and that just makes me want to yell louder. “Because someone took everything from me. And where the fuck were you when I was bleeding out into the dirt?! If you were such a shitty partner, why in the Hells did I even bother with you?”

Gortash’s features softened, pain and regret gleaming in his eyes.

“I wasn’t your keeper, Talas,” he countered. “You were always an independent force, often off on business I had no say in. But when you didn’t come back one day, I searched for you.” His eyebrows join in a pleading line. “I searched for you with every bit of resources I could spare. Then Orin muscled in on our plot and made me stop under the threat of unraveling the whole thing. I accepted you as a loss… but I mourned for a long time.”

His words eat their way into my chest like acid. I don’t want to believe a single one, but something in me knows it’s the truth.

“Don’t tell me you loved me,” I hiss. “You don’t strike me as a man who allows himself such weaknesses.”

He smirks and I bristle. I knew it. Liar!

“Love is for children,” he chuckles. “We had something much more precious. We made a great team. Your monstrosity and mine were in perfect harmony. No one understood me like you did. No one encouraged my every exploit like you did. You were such a horrible influence on me,” he purrs, his eyes half closed. “Delicious. Deplorable. Delightful.”

I gulp and shiver under the intensity of his gaze. It feels like he’s undressing me with his eyes and I can’t decide how I feel about it. I want to be disgusted, but that knot low in my belly has a different agenda. Without remembering a single minute of knowing him, my body knows it used to crave this man’s attention.

He extends his unclawed hand to me and grazes my skin. It burns and it tickles and it sends powerful signals all over my nervous system. But this is not what I want. It can’t be.

Quick as lightning, I pull my dagger out and press it to his neck in warning.

“Don’t. Touch. Me,” I filter through my teeth.

He catches my wrist quicker than I would’ve given him credit for. Instead of pulling it away, though, he presses the blade closer, almost cutting into himself. I gasp in shock, struggling against his strength. His dead eyes flicker to life, ablaze with desire.

“There she is,” he whispers almost breathlessly, biting his lip. “You seem so different… but I knew my pet monster was somewhere in there.”

“I’m nothing of yours,” I force through my dried throat, my voice failing me.

Suddenly, he moves my hand away from his neck, only to press my white-knuckled fist to his lips in a kiss. My whole body responds, buzzing in approval. “You don’t mean that,” he teases, his hot breath tickling the spot he kissed.

“Don’t do that,” I breathe out, a lump forming in my throat, making my voice sound funny.

He pulls my wrist to his mouth and licks it with a quick flick before his teeth start to nibble on the sensitive skin, sending shockwaves of ecstasy down my arm.

“Stop it,” I beg, the command I meant to utter melting into a pathetic mewl.

I twist and try to get away for a second or two, but he keeps moving lower and lower, licking, sucking, biting, and every last defense I had crumbles into ashes. It doesn’t matter that I’m someone else now. It doesn’t matter that I would never consciously and honestly team up with him again. It doesn’t matter what I think of him or what I believe he deserves.

I never had a chance. My body knows him, my body craves him. He’s like a drug addiction I never quite shook, and at the slightest sweet taste I relapse right back into him.

03 - A master. A slave.

He pulls me in, mouth still hungrily devouring my arm inch by inch, while his free hand frantically unties my cloak, revealing my simple shirt and long skirt underneath.

“You used to wear fancier things.” He side-eyes my clothing, not letting it distract him from my skin too much. “And would get mad when I tore them to shreds. This is perfect.”

My sluggish thoughts haven’t even begun to analyze the meaning in his words when he presses me flush to his chest, moving from nibbling on my shoulder to assaulting my mouth. I gasp for the breath he keeps stealing with every touch, but let him surround me and trap me with his body. I feel his desperate need mirroring my own. His taste is surprisingly sweet, with just a hint of hot spice.

“No,” I manage to mumble through our locked lips, grasping at the last straws of control. My hand is finally free—I try stabbing him in the crook of his neck. He yelps and groans, but my muscles are so useless I’ve barely scratched him. A thin streak of blood trickles out of the cut, marring the delicate fabric of his robe.

“You thought that would stop me?” he purrs, pulling the robe off his body. “Your knives left more than one scar on me. It was our thing.”

I stare at his muscly, hairy chest, mute. I see scars on his torso, criss-crossing his skin like a crude carving. That couldn’t be my doing… But the metallic scent of his blood sends a new sort of excitement through me. I know it’s my Urge, I know it’s not really me, but my will is weakened. My hand raises and cuts him again—just a little, but enough to satisfy the craving.

“Your body remembers,” he whispers into my ear, standing my hair on their ends.

His gloved hand caresses my arm and shoulder and closes around my throat. I gasp in panic, or I think I do, but heat pools in my lower regions in response. He presses a touch harder; his gold ornaments are digging into my skin, claws pinching my nape and my head is starting to swim with lack of oxygen. My fingers wrap around his wrist, but for some reason I don’t pull him away.

“Every time you hurt me, I will hurt you back,” he promises in a sweet, sin-filled voice. “Call it our love language.”

He lets go of my neck, hands roughly gripping my waist instead. He twirls us around and sits me on top of his desk. I fumble to find balance and end up sending his documents, ink and quills all over the floor. Instead of complaining, he eagerly swipes the rest of the items off the surface and pushes me down on my back.

The panic it triggers gives me back a chunk of my reason. Instead of letting him, I fight back, clawing at his bare chest with my nails and my dagger, leaving bloody gashes over his skin.

His head lulls back for a moment, which makes me realize I’m not helping at all. He’s enjoying the pain I give him. He takes fistfuls of my shirt and bends down to bite my shoulder—hard. I yelp, reaching into his hair to pull him away, but he’s already ripping clothes off of my torso, baring my skin, spilling my breasts.

“You are even more magnificent than I remember,” he rasps, grazing my curves with his gaze alone. The reverent look on his face sets my loins on fire.

I’m beginning to understand how I could’ve let him so close to me. A young, confused little thing, raised in worship of the Lord of Murder, would have no idea what love looks like. I’m still learning and stumbling, despite Halsin’s best efforts. A man who could make her feel so beautiful, so wanted among all the blood and death… such a man would have had the key to her rotten little heart.

I’m not that girl anymore. But I know that feeling. Its draw is familiar and powerful. My hands let go of his hair and fall next to my head, letting him run his rough palms across my chest and knead the pliant shape of my breasts.

His teeth close around one of my nipples and press just hard enough to shoot a barbed string of ecstasy directly to my sex. I muffle the moan with my hands. I can’t just let him win like that. I’m not doing this because I’m easy. I’m doing it so I don’t go insane.

“I missed this,” Gortash drawls, his lips and tongue making slow circles on my chest. “I missed you.” He bites into my flesh, gently, teasingly, while his hand slowly moves towards my sex. “In all your glory, Talas.”

“Stop calling me that,” I protest weakly, but he just chuckles and continues lower, and lower.

“You may not remember me,” he breathes on my folds, shamefully wet and wanton, “but I remember everything about you.”

And he dives between my thighs like a man who’s been starving and now can finally eat.

I gasp loudly, my hands instinctively grasping for something to hold onto—his hair. My legs twitch and wrap around him. I’m half worried I’m killing him, but he gives no indication of discomfort. His mouth is making the most intimidatingly dirty noises I’ve ever heard and I’m melting on his face.

All it takes him is a few minutes, stretched impossibly long in my damaged mind. I swallow the urge to scream and just grunt, not wanting to give him the satisfaction. He looks up from my lap, slick and gasping for breath, and smirks smugly. He knows I enjoyed it, no use hiding it.

He picks his robe off the floor and wipes his face, still watching me. My brain is too hazy to worry about the way I’m splayed on his desk, eaten out, undone. He props himself above me and studies my face.

“This is your most beautiful look,” he sighs, taking in the flush of my cheeks, the sweat glistening on my brow and the mess I made of my hair. “Precious little Bhaal-babe.”

I’m still coming down from the high when I feel him slip inside me. I distantly realize I should’ve gathered enough wit to stop him, but it’s too late. I squeeze around him in welcome and let out a long and thoroughly embarrassing moan. He matches me, closing his eyes.

“You still fit me like a glove.”

He’s so right. I live for the delicious stretch of Halsin’s gentle, loving thrusts—it’s the only sex I remember having, but I would kill for more—but this… Gortash feels like he was tailored specifically for me. My body knows his shape, just as it knows his touch. It’s like coming home after a long time and finding your old room exactly as you left it.

“Oh gods, I really do,” I groan as he lazily moves inside, savoring each stroke.

I wrap my legs around his waist and just enjoy the sensation, closing my eyes to ignore his intimate gaze for the sake of my sanity. If he’s trying to make me fall for him again, he’s as out of his mind as I am.

Clearly getting bored of the slow pace, he pulls me up and plops me back down on my belly. I’m too weak and needy to issue a protest, I just whine at the unexpected and unwelcome absence of him. He silences my discontent with a firm thrust that makes me gasp and clutch the edges of the desk so hard my knuckles turn white again.

“I know you love this one,” he purrs and presses my legs together with his own. “Sometimes you like to be in control. Other times you like to be controlled. You were the most fun I’ve ever had with anyone.”

I let out a growl at him mentioning his other partners while balls-deep in me. Perhaps he didn’t really want me back. Maybe he just missed the “fun”.

“You’re also the only one who made me consider settling down, Talas,” he continues as if he understood very well why his words upset me. “I wanted to breed you and watch you teach the little runt how to gut people.”

“Don’t even fucking think about it,” I sputter, miraculously finding enough ire to at least issue a warning, while still being happily pinned under him.

He chuckles. “Your response is still the same. Last time it was Daddy dearest… but you changed your mind about doing his bidding. Is Halsin aware you’re not going to give him a litter of cubs one day as he might hope?”

I don’t know how he even learned all these things about me, but I don’t care much. I grab the dagger left forgotten on the desk next to me and jam the blade into his thigh. Not deep enough to cripple, but definitely causing a lot of pain.

Gortash lets out a strangled scream, which mixes with a moan of pleasure not two seconds later. Fuck. I didn’t mean for him to like it.

What he does next pushes all irrelevant thoughts out of my head: he grabs my hair and yanks hard, pulling my head back, making my little cry sound ever more pathetic. His free hand digs fingers into my hip, holding me steady as he begins pounding into me with force.

I just open my mouth mutely, gasping for air, my eyes filling with tears. My brain turns into mush under the intensity of sensations he’s sending through my tortured body. I can’t see, I can’t speak, I can’t think. I hear a high-pitched whine through the mist around me… and I realize it’s mine. I’m screaming, lost in the sweet place between pain and complete ecstasy.

I spasm around his length so hard I can hear him gasp as well. My whole body shakes and curls into itself, a shaking, sweaty, moaning mess writhing on the cool polished wood of the desk. I can feel him swell within me, hot and ready, and I know he’s coming too—still inside me.

But I don’t care. I want it. Whatever he might hope to gain from it, I know I’m safe.

Instead of going slack like a good boy, he pulls out and flips me on my back again. He holds my legs spread, admiring what he did to me. I feel his seed leak out of me and drip to the floor. He smiles contently, dragging a fingertip across my clit, drawing out every last twitch my muscles are willing to give.

“This could be us every day,” he says softly. “Think about it.”

I don’t have an answer he would like, but he doesn’t wait for one. He picks me up in the most unexpectedly gentle way and carries me to the other side of the room. I thought he was putting me on the bed, either to sleep, cuddle or continue blissfully torturing me, but my breath hitches in surprise when he suddenly dips me into warm water. I slip into a roomy bathtub, blinking in confusion.

My brain needs a minute to restart, so I just watch him get inside with me, sitting me in his lap, cradling me. I don’t have the strength to protest. I just watch the little pinkish streaks, as water begins to wash out his wounds.

04 - This is why we can’t have nice things.

“How did you have this ready? Do you have invisible servants or something?”

Gortash chuckles and I vibrate along on his chest, making frantic little waves on the surface.

“The miracle of technology, Talas. My desk has a few convenient buttons and this tub fills and warms up automatically. I pressed one before we began.”

Well, that is convenient. I’m not sure if I want to be in this bath with him now, but it sure feels good on my exhausted muscles and aching sex. His arms around me feel nice, too, as much as I hate admitting it. I can hate a person and still enjoy their closeness, right? Right?

His hands caress me under the water and I let them.

“Good to know you bathe with your gauntlets on,” I quip, noticing the distinctive feel of metal against my skin.

He pulls his right hand up and turns it from one side to the other, letting the gold reflect the glimmer of flames in the nearby fireplace. The netherstone pulses with its own light, alive and tempting as the power it holds.

“While I’m more than happy to entertain you, I’m not letting my most prized possession just lie around for you to steal,” he smirks and I turn my head to have a better look at him, honestly impressed. “You changed. Your goals inevitably changed, too. I don’t trust you anymore, Talas.” He runs a soft finger along my jaw, dropping to the line of my neck and to my clavicle. I shiver, even submerged in warmth, too tired to correct the name this time. “If you want it for yourself, you’re going to have to kill me.”

I give him an evaluating once-over; then my eyes move to the dagger I left on the desk. His gaze follows mine and his smirk stretches more.

“Just keep in mind that those Steel Watchers outside will only take about ten seconds to join us. And even you, my dear, don’t have the skill to defeat them all naked and unarmed to get out of here alive.” His fingers trace the shape of my lips. “I would hate it if something happened to you before I had the chance to win you over.”

“You’re so full of shit, Gortash,” I sigh, laying my head in the crook of his neck. I feel too lazy to murder anyone right now, anyway. “You sent me to hunt Orin down and told me to not come back without her stone. You expect me to believe you actually give a fuck about me and care what I think about you? I’m here against your explicit orders, your lordship.”

“You came to see me surrounded by your new friends,” he grumbles and I finally hear discontent in his voice. “In the company of your new lover. What did you think I would do, fall on my knees in front of all my esteemed guests and your openly hostile troupe and beg you to come back to me?”

“Hmm, so your excuse is your pride?” I sneer. “I don’t believe a word that comes out of your mouth, no matter how trustworthy you somehow manage to sound. I only agreed to your deal because you didn’t give me any better choice. Karlach was furious. She wants you dead oh so very much. She gets really graphic, describing how she wants to kill you. You’re lucky I didn’t bring her along.”

Gortash groans and pinches the root of his nose.

“The company you keep nowadays,” he chides. “No wonder you changed so much. Every one of those bloody soft-hearted idiots putting their own opinions in your emptied mind.”

“When that’s what you wanted to do.” I nod in mock commiseration.

“I want us to be partners,” he scowls, tone wounded. “Equals. Sharing the power over the whole world. The Lord is only a part for me to play in public, while you reign over your own murderous kingdom from the shadows, unobstructed by law, unhindered by so-called heroes trying to stop you. We can have everything we’ve ever wanted. Together.”

I can’t believe how tempting he sounds right now. I close my eyes, letting my Urge surface just enough to enjoy the pure simplicity of the world he describes. I could let go. I could stop fighting for every sliver of free will. I could bathe in blood and have people worship my god through me. The Urge would be sated—I could feel the sweet rush of ecstasy from killing without worrying I might hurt someone close to me.

I would be lying if I said this vision of the future never crossed my mind. It’s an everyday struggle, trying to stay good, trying to do only good. A struggle I’m inevitably going to lose if my Urge grows in intensity for much longer. Killing Halsin. Or Lae’zel. Or Gale. The death of anyone in my camp—by my hand—would break me.

I care too much. Sometimes I imagine what it would feel like if I didn’t care at all.

“You would never tolerate any of my friends by my side, Gortash,” I say flatly. “If you really do want me, you want me all to yourself. Isolated, depending only on you. Malleable. So that if—gods forbid—I disagree with you, you could push all the right buttons and get me to change my mind, with no one to challenge your influence over me.”

I don’t know how, but I know it’s true. It’s what all people drunk on power do. The more powerless they feel without it, the more they enjoy any sliver of it they get and abuse the shit out of it. It’s why Gortash wants control over others in the first place. Inside, there’s a small, scared, unloved little boy, whose parents sold him to a devil.

I blink, my heartbeat spiking, as I realize I’ve just recalled a bit of my past—our past. Something I couldn’t have learned since the nautiloid. Was it Gortash himself, who confided in me, or did I discover this piece of history by myself? It feels like something he would keep very close and tell no one, so it wouldn’t damage the lofty image he’s trying to maintain.

“You’re just being paranoid, kitten,” he brushes me off, but his expression is no longer sporting his typical airy easiness. “When we were together, I was your confidant and your strength against the increasing demands of your Father. But you weren’t some impressionable child. You were determined and unyielding. Sharp as your blades.”

Sharp blades. Bhaal. His demands.

A sinking dread begins to fill my guts and I lift off Gortash’s chest to put some distance between us. My brain is still fuzzy, but bits of memories are beginning to float to the surface of my consciousness.

“Bhaal’s grand design,” I say in a shaking voice, “is for everyone to die for him. I was supposed to kill you, and then myself, as the last mortal alive. Did you know?”

Gortash’s eyes round in horror.

“Of course not! What kind of crazy design is that? How would he get any more murders with no one left to die?”

He’s right, but that doesn’t mean I wasn’t going to try and carry it out, anyway. Just like mad Orin is probably doing now. What a good little Daddy’s lapdog.

“But that wasn’t what you planned for yourself, was it?” I press, my voice steadying with my increasing certainty. “And so I was suddenly in the way. Just what would it take for you to turn on your closest ally? Is her planning your murder enough?”

“What are you trying to say, Talas?” he hisses, but I can see fear in his eyes.

“It was you, wasn’t it?” I growl, sliding away from him, so I can get out of the bathtub without him catching me. “You tried to kill me! Just so I wouldn’t kill you first.”

I jump to my feet, nearly slipping on the smooth wet surface, but holding my balance well enough to scramble out of the water. He tries grabbing my hand, then my leg, but I slip out of his grasp easily. I throw myself towards the desk and retake possession of my only weapon. By the time he’s out of the tub, I’m already pointing it at his throat.

“Listen to me, Talas—” he puts his hands up in a calming gesture, but I’ve had enough of his smooth words for one night.

“You picked up a fucking rock and you beat me and kicked me and tossed me against stone walls!”

I scream and I’m sure my prevalent feelings are pure rage, but out of nowhere I get ambushed by tears and sobs. My memories are still a mess, but the flashes of my body being beaten to a pulp are vivid and terrifying.

“Talas, please—”

“I bled and begged, and you teased and laughed, as if it was the funniest shit you ever got to do! And now that I’m somehow back, you’re trying to get me to believe your sweet lies, just so I won’t remember what you did to me. But I remember! I REMEMBER!”

I know I sound completely unhinged, but my chest is so filled with a mix of the worst feelings I’ve ever experienced, that it threatens to burst.

“IT WASN’T ME!” Gortash’s volume finally matches mine, making me wince and pause just enough for him to get a word in. “I would never hurt you like that! If I really had to kill you, dearest, I would’ve done it quick and clean. Because I love you, you stupid thing!”

His confession feels like a slap to the face. I didn’t see that coming. My first instinct is to pronounce it as another lie, especially in retrospect to the first time he mentioned love tonight, but my mind finally calms enough to actually think.

A man like him wouldn’t say anything like that if he didn’t mean it. It sounded… pathetic. Baring his soul similarly to revealing his most embarrassing childhood memory, knowing his feelings are unrequited. His pride would never allow him to grovel so much. Not anymore, not when he’s got a taste of actually being respected.

“Please, believe me,” he pleads, breath ragged, eyes wide. “I have no reason to hate you. This sounds like someone who had every reason. Who enjoyed your agony and loved seeing you on your knees. I. Would. Never.”

“But you…” I exhale, confused. I’ve almost had it. I’ve almost found the one responsible for my unfortunate fate. “Then who the fuck did this to me?” I whisper and stifle another sob.

“Please put down the dagger, Talas.” Gortash points at the sharp tip still hovering between his clavicles. I reluctantly lower it. I’m honestly pleasantly surprised he let me threaten him for so long without trying to disarm me. It makes me trust him just a smidge more. “And maybe we can figure it out together.”

“Stop calling me that!” I lash out annoyedly. “My name is Nara now. Deal with it.”

“When you stop calling me Gortash,” he smirks in response, his easy charm back.

I groan, rolling my eyes. “Fine. Enver,” I say begrudgingly, but the name feels much better on my tongue than I expected. I must’ve been used to calling him that, just as he said.

I turn to the desk, intent on putting the weapon back, but I freeze mid-step. A mix of stimuli, a flicker of light, a rustle of the fur rug on the floor, perhaps even a smell… and the memory of my attempted murder clears a bit more.

I see a shiny red surface with an opalescent finish. Hear a rustle of a long braid and the pitter-patter of bare feet on stone. I hear laughter again, but this time I’m not just imagining Gortash’s… Enver’s, I clearly recall a woman’s voice having the time of her life.

“Orin.”

The name falls flatly from my lips. I feel cold dread seep into my soul at the image of her. I never quite understood why she had this effect on me—until now. Even though my memory was coming up empty, she was triggering a post-traumatic response all the same, just like when my body yielded to Enver.

“Hm?”

I turn back, dagger still in my hand. I don’t plan on letting go of it any time soon. Enver watches me warily, with a hint of curiosity in his face.

“It was Orin.”

He frowns at first. Opens his mouth, presumably to defend her. Then closes it again, his features smoothing out.

“It makes sense. She took your place, both in the cult and in the Absolute plot. She wanted you gone. And she really seems to hate you, though I wouldn’t expect her to need any solid reason to kick someone to death. She would happily do it just for fun.”

I close my eyes for a second, but I only need a few gulps of breath to make up my mind. I pick up my torn and discarded clothes off the floor and put them back on, securing them in place as well as possible.

“Where are you going?”

Enver reaches for me and grabs my arm. I toss him a warning glare, but don’t move. He’s still naked and wet from head to toe, he poses virtually no danger to me.

“To hunt,” I answer plainly. “I know a mad bitch that needs killing.”

“Don’t be rash,” he shakes his head, some of the slicked back damp hair falling into his eyes. “You can’t know where she is. Or who she is. She could slaughter your whole camp while you sleep and you’d be left alone to face her. Remember, she is the Slayer now.”

“Well, since we’re counting suspects, she could very well be you,” I give him a wry smile. “But I doubt she would keep going this long, having me all to herself like that, so you’re probably safe.” He doesn’t appreciate my joke, scowling like a jack-o-lantern, concern crumpling his features. “I need to go back to my friends and figure out a way to find her before she does any real damage, Enver. I need to go now.”

He slowly lets go of my arm, letting me finish putting the cloak on.

“No need to sneak through the throne room, by the way,” he notes, watching me hide underneath the wide hood. “The Watch was instructed to let you in. If someone could really just sneak past them like that, I could easily expect Orin in your place. Thankfully, the Watch can spot the difference, with you having a tadpole.”

My eyebrows rise. So that’s why he took that bath? Did he think my unsettled hormones would lead me back to Wyrmrock to see him? I clearly never liked grimy men—and he knows it.

“You were waiting for me?”

“I was hopeful,” he confessed, dropping his gaze for a moment. “I couldn’t risk just inviting you. But at least I made sure you would get in without complications. You always did like to have all the facts.”

I chuckle and shake my head. I still believe at least half of his words are lies and most of the other half are cleverly picked and arranged bits of truth. But now I’m also pretty sure there’s something genuine in him, too. Hidden very deep, surrounded by enemies—but it’s there.

“Be safe, Talas,” he says quietly. “Nara,” he corrects himself, smiling softly. “You have your work cut out for you.”

“I’ll do my best to not disappoint,” I shrug, sheathing my dagger, stepping away.

“And will you at least consider my proposition?” He calls after me when I’m almost out the door. His voice sounds tentative. “That’s all I ask.”

I let my gaze slide down the length of his naked body, weighing my options. Well, consideration really costs me nothing, does it? It’s very unlikely that I will agree to it. I have much better prospects in my scope now—much healthier ones. But the least I can do for him is give it a thought.

“Sure,” I grace him with a little smile. “I will consider it.”

If you like this story, please show it by giving it some love: give a like, reblog, leave a nice comment.

I would also be very grateful if you take a few seconds out of your day and leave a kudos on the AO3 issue of this story ♥ (You CAN vote as guests.) THANK YOU!

#durgetash #gortash x durge #enver gortash #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #fanfiction #fanfic #smut #Durge datamining some memories #emotional trauma #good durge #resisting durge #durge x halsin #halsin bg3 #bg3 halsin

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be-ready-when-i-say-go · 1 year

Note

Closeted gay reader who's only out to his best friends Steve and Robin, telling Robin he has the BIGGEST crush on Eddie and Robin offers advice and she gangs up with Dustin, Mike, and Lucas to set Eddie and reader up for a date? (More sub reader if possible please?)

Hi, thanks for this! I'm going to be combining this request with another one:

Do you think you could do Eddie with a sub male reader who's a really good portrait artist, and one day he gifts Eddie a drawing of himself that's basically a nude. Eddie gets flustered and basically wrecks reader in bed? Maybe soft Dom Eddie and really shy reader

Eddie Munson x Male Reader

CW: 18+ Content (Smut)

Requests will be closing Monday, November 28th at 11:00 PM EST. You can submit yours here!

Currently writing for Eddie Munson. I write for a variety of reader inserts (male, female, gender neutral, POC too).

The more details you had to your request, the better it is for me. EX: “What about some fluff for Eddie after he’s had a long day?”

Feel free to look through my masterlist here!

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"Hey," Robin calls out. You lift your head from your sketchbook to find her in the action section, holding a VHS above her head. "Date night or no?"

You squint just a little, getting a slightly clear view of the title. "No," you return. Robin nods and turns back to the couple in front of her. Her voice is distinct as she rambles on how much she holds your opinion to a higher standard than anyone else's. She then goes on to recommend a film you hated.

If it weren't so funny watching her clearly trying not to flirt with the girl tucked up under the guys arm and keep herself on task of helping them pick out a film, you'd want to interject and tell them that the pick is garbage. But you refrain enjoying the way Robin's cheeks flair a bright red and she nearly runs out of breath with how fast she's talking.

The couple decides to go with something more classic action adventure that Steve recommends, which you do like. The couple leaves without so much as another glance backwards. "Figures," you laugh.

"Whatever," Robin huffs. "Clearly, they don't have taste."

"Clearly," you snort. "Rob, thoughts?" You turn the sketchbook around and reveal the portrait of her that you'd been working on over the last couple of days.

Her jaw drops, hands reaching up for the book. "Holy moly," she gapes. The 2D rendition of her own face is uncanny but she inspects all angles to see if somehow she'll come alive off the page, all graphite and smoky, but she doesn't. "You are a God amongst men," she exhales.

The bells chime yet again from the front door and the trio of you turn to the sound. Robin and Steve prepared to greet the new customer and there, hair billowing just a little from their face is Eddie Munson. He only gives a nod to Robin and Steve before turning to the left and heading for the thriller and horror section.

You watch him as he walks and right before you break the eye contact, Eddie looks back, a smile softly lifting his cheeks. You're not sure if you actually witness it or not, but you swear he winks at you and the thought that Eddie would ever have half the mind to give you more than a two second look over is enough to make your knees nearly buckle.

"I'm literally going to throw up," you whisper. Robin hears it, slapping the back of her hand into your chest. The action alone gets you to tear your gaze of the back of Eddie's denim vest.

Robin grins up at you. "Ask him out."

"Oh get off it," you hiss and then take your sketchbook back from her. You flip it close and stuff it into your backpack. You were supposed to be helping out, considering Friday night would get undeniably packed with people preparing for the weekend. Rather than going home before your shift, you just came immediately here.

"Oh, c'mon," she calls out to your retreating figure. "I'm sorry! I just--my brain and mouth are literally are on two different speeds and timezones. C'mon!" she calls even after the doors to employee room closes.

"Ouch," Eddie comments. "Trouble in paradise?"

Robin turns to the voice and notices a copy of Children of the Corn in Eddie's hands. "Again?" she laughs.

"Jeff keeps chickening out at the best part. It's his fault," Eddie laughs, sliding the box over the desk. He rattles off his phone number without Robin having to prompt him. But his gaze keeps lingering on the employee door. "He okay?"

Robin scans out the copy of the movie and looks over her shoulder in the direction that Eddie is still staring. "He's okay. I'm just an idiot." Robin gets what it's like--there's no telling who isn't and is like them. There's no telling who's going to accept you or shun you. A lingering gaze that last too long or even just a date could be social suicide if not actual suicide. She just knows that you and Eddie would work out.

She can see it right now in the way that Eddie keeps looking back over her shoulder. Like he's got something else to say or something else he wants to do. But he doesn't. He nods at Robin, smiling but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. His exit is swift soon after and Robin swears in that moment that she cannot let you or Eddie miss out on the chance of at least one date together.

She find Steve, flirting with a girl that clearly is not looking just for herself and politely recommends another film for her to read through before dragging Steve away from the customer. "Does Eddie like care about the town fair?"

Steve blinks for a moment trying to understand why Robin has such an investment in Eddie's taste of extracurricular activities. "Why-Do you think I would know?" he asks.

"I just need to you ask Dustin for me okay. Just get Dustin to agree to get Eddie to the carnival on Saturday. 6PM sharp."

Steve watches Robin's retreating figure as she jobs to the employee room. He gapes at the ghost of her. "Henderson is not going to be able to convince Eddie alone," he whispers, scrubbing a hand over his face, knowing he's somehow getting roped into something and it most likely involves you if Robin is asking about Eddie.

And on Saturday, 6PM sharp you stroll up to the ticket line, hands slipping into the front of you front of your jeans. You're not sure when Robin or Steve are going to show up. You know Steve probably grabbed Robin before heading here and so you're more than willing to give them a few minute grace period. Besides, it's a strangely warm night. With the hint of summer approaching, the days were growing warmer. But there was nothing quite like the MidWest to keep you on your toes.

You resolve yourself to waiting and from just behind you, someone calls out your name. You turn and spot Eddie, strolling, hands tucked into his jacket pockets. He stops just a couple feet shy of you. "Fancy seeing you here," he teases.

Your heart stammers in your chest and your tongue grows thick and dry. "Oh, uh, hi," you stammer out.

"Are-are you waiting on someone?" Eddie asks, elbow extending out to the crowd that is approaching.

"Uh, Robin and Steve. You?"

"Steve," he returns slowly. "And Henderson, Sinclair, and Wheeler."

Your brow furrows. "Dustin? And both Wheelers and Sinclairs or?"

"Just Lucas and Mike. They, uh, they asked if I'd come and I couldn't really say no to them even if I wanted too." Eddie laughs at his own tendernes and then gazes back up to you. "They told me to wait for them as Steve was picking them up."

"Robin said Steve was picking her up."

"Steve's beamer seats 5 anyway. Do you mind if I wait with you? Since we're sort of waiting for the same people?"

You shake your head. "No, no, I don't mind." It's a miracle now that you're thinking in the silence that's settled for a moment that you've managed to keep a conversation up for as long as you did with Eddie. You always felt way too nervous around him to get the words out before. But he's easy to talk to. It definitely helps that Eddie seems to be able to keep a conversation alive even if it feels like it's fallen silent for far to long.

"How'd-how'd the art show go?" Eddie noticed it being judged when he was sneaking out after lunch to the woods. He saw you standing in front of your drawings, judges peering at the displays. He stopped only for a minute to watch you.

"Good. Placed second overall."

"Shit, dude, that's awesome." The happiness is real, but Eddie cringes at his use of dude. He doesn't want to just be friendly but he's sure he can't outright flirt with you. So far, he's able to keep you enganged. Your face lights up as you talk about your art and you catch how after a few minutes you've just been rambling about things you're sure Eddie doesn't care about.

"I'm sorry. I'm totally just on a soaobox. I-I heard you're playing at The Hideout now?"

"Yeah, yeah, Tuesday's nights."

"Better than Gareth's garage?"

"Ten times better," Eddie laughs. "You-you should come by. If you want of course. If that's your scene."

"As-as long as you sure you want me there?" you return, not wanting to overstep through the yes is burning the tip of your tongue.

Eddie nods. "Oh, I'm sure." He happens just to check his watch to see fifteen minutes have passed. "Huh, would've thought they'd be here by now?"

You check yours too and noticing how much time has passed. "DO you think they're okay?"

"I would hope. I mean, it's not that far," Eddie laughs. Silence falls between the two of you for another moment longer and then Eddie reaches out, his hands ever so gently grazing your elbow. "Do-do you want to get tickets and head inside? We could do stuff near the front for when they show up?"

"Oh, I-oh." You want to articulate that you'd love to do that but then you're worried you'll miss Steve and Robin and the kids.

"Just say yes! You idiots! Oh my god!"

You turn behind you to see Robin peering around from the ticket booth. "Just say yes. This was supposed to be a magical moment for you two have a date but I swear to God, I have to spell everything out for you."

Your eyes widen like saucers and you're whipping around to see who's around. There is no way Robin would do this to you and you can feel your feet carrying you away before you can really process what's happening. The tears are brimming around your waterline and the lights are blurring.

"Hey, wait," Eddie's touch is soft on your shoulder. You pull out from his grasps. He calls out our name again breaks out into a jog to stop in front of you. "I like you too," Eddie whispers. It's all he can say, panic crawling up his chest. "I'd love to go out on a date with you."

The words, once they process, feel like you're breaking through water. At first muffled but then slowly it's clearer and clear. "You-you like me too?"

Eddie nods, his curls bounce at the action. A tiny smile breaks across his face, lifting his cheeks and causing a couple wrinkles to become pronounced around his eyes. "Yeah, a lot actually. No one has to know it's a date, but us. And well, Steve, Robin, Mike, Lucas, and Dustin. But like, we can keep it on the low, if it's easier for you. But I know half the reason I even agreed to this is because Dustin basically swore with 100% certainty you'd be here."

Your heart flutters at the news. Eddie agreeing to show up because you're here? It didn't seem possible. But there's Eddie smiling softly at you, his hand still cradling your elbow gently. "I hate heights," you answer.

"I love them," Eddie returns. "And I'll make sure that the heights won't hurt you."

You give a tiny nod. "Okay, promise?"

Eddie holds out his pinkie. "Promise."

And if you ever thought a pinky promise would land you here, pressed into the warmth of Eddie's bare chest, the rising sun now hitting you more and more in your eyeline, you think you might've asked for one sooner. Eddie's breathing is steady against your back. You've always been an early riser and you know Eddie likes to sleep in until noon, so you don't mind the few minutes of feeling his breathing tickles your neck.

After a while your bladder gets the best of you so you push up as gentle as you can from Eddie's heavy embrace and pad gently into the bathroom. By the time you return to the room, any lingering hold of sleep has slipped away. Eddie doesn't seem to have noticed your departure from the bed, but you don't want to go paddling about in the kitchen just yet, so you sit at Eddie's desk.

The morning continues on in relative silence. Eddie stirs, the bed creaking and he settles down, seemingly not waking. You watch him, on his back now only for a second before you go back to your page. The drawing is truly nearly done. But you're trying to capture the curl just right and are careful with each stroke of your pencil.

The bed creaks again behind you. A huff hits the air and you turn now, to see Eddie on his stomach, one arm splayed out where you know it would be over your stomach and waist. He lays there for a minute or two before he picks his head up. "Baby?"

"I'm here," you return softly, sitting now on the edge of the bed.

Eddie stretches out for you, palm settling on your knee. "Why are you up?"

"Had to pee."

"Come back to bed. Please?"

You could argue that you're not tired, but you know it's a losing game. Eddie will get what he wants. You're too soft for him to argue seriously. "Can-can I show you something?"

Eddie groans, but pushes up with a heavy exhale. "This is going to cost you exactly ten kisses for waking me up."

"I can pay the toll," you tease, and gingerly guide him up and out of the bed.

Eddie lumbers behind you, eyes still not fully open but cracking more and more as the seconds pass. You settle Eddie down on the desk chair and he tugs you onto his lap, holding one arm securely around your waist.

"Now, what is it that you want to show me, love?" he asks pressing a kiss to your exposed shoulder. Both of you are shirtless, though you wear boxers and Eddie wears sweatpants.

You push the sketchbook closer to him. Eddie takes it gingerly, not wanting to smudge anything or get oils onto it and ruin something. He takes in the resemblance of his face and has to do a double check. That's his nose--undeniably his by the slope and shape. He continues over his own face--the big eyes, wild hair, and takes in the bare torso. The tattoos are rendered almost perfectly.

Eddie takes in the sight of his own naked form for more than a minute solid in complete silence. Like ghost he catches another pair of hands holding around his torso in the picture too. Eddie stares at them, the way the fingers trace him so delicately. The silence causes you to squirm a little in his lap, unsure if he hates it or not. "It's-it's not done yet, but I was thinking of--

You don't even get the chance to explain what you wanted to do for the background, or the other set of hands before Eddie sets the book down and turns your head to look at him. "It's beautiful," he whispers. Your lips brush as Eddie speaks. "Is it for me?"

You nod. "Do-do you like it?"

"Like it? Sweetheart I love it. M'ere," Eddie commands. There's only centimeters between you two, but you close the distance and seal his mouth into a kiss.

Eddie's one hand slip up onto your cheek. The other kneads at your waist, pulling you closer into him. The movement brings you higher onto his lap and his erection is evident now. You grin just a little at the feeling. "Already?" you tease.

"Oh, darling, when it comes to you, I'm always hard," he laughs, kissing you again. "Thank you, for drawing this. For sharing it with me."

"Of-of course," you stutter out as Eddie's plump lips find your neck.

"So good." The thought doesn't even carry a full breath behind it and you're not sure if Eddie even meant to say it aloud, but the thought makes your lower stomach tighten in desire. You straddle him now, hands gripping at his shoulders as he kisses down your chest.

"Eds," you exhale, all shake and on the verge of a whine when his turn swirls over your nipple.

"Yes, sweetheart? Something wrong?"

You shake your head. "It's so right," you huff. Eddie's working a mark into your skin and you don't really care that it'll be there for at least the week. All you care about is the feeling of Eddie's calloused fingers sliding up your spine. All you care about is the feeling of his torso pressing into the front of you, putting just enough pressure on your own erection.

The chair soon becomes too small and too confined. Eddie lifts you up and carries to you the bed, all of a few inches. But you're happy for the change. Eddie crawls up after you, lips still latching to every inch of your skin. His praise, so good, thank you, perfect, that's what you are literal perfection, go straight to your head and make you dizzy with want.

"Gonna take these off, okay?" Eddie tells you, snapping the elastic of the boxers back into the skin of your hip. His lips and tongue cut through the sting.

"Please," you whine, realizing that his hands and mouth are closing in right where you desparetly want him.

But Eddie is devious. He pulls the cotton down with his teeth, taking them down your ankles too and then flinging them somewhere in the room before kissing back up your skin. He licks at your ankle, then kisses your left cal. He kneads at your right thigh but he skips over your puckering hole or your twitching coke.

"Look at you," he purrs, taking in your panting chest. "Tell me who's got you this riled up."

"You," you whine. "You, Eddie."

"And can anyone else do this to you?"

"No," you exhale. "No one else can."

The game continues, Eddie begging you to answer him as he works over your length, or plays at your hole. And it takes every ounce of your power to get the responses out as your brain slips in and out of the haze. All you want to do is succumb to the pleasure. It feels like you're floating without a care in the world. You revel in that feeling until Eddie snatches you back to reality with a harsh yank, nip, or even more crudely, tearing you from the brink of your first orgasm.

Eddie isn't all mean--he loves watching and listening to you cum for him. He loves when your mouth hangs open and no sound comes out because you're sunk too deep into the pleasure to have enough air for it. Eddie will always gives you that--the release. But it doesn't mean he can't toy with it occasionally.

By the time you have enough energy to become conscious, you're not sure if it's just the second or third orgasm that you've had but Eddie rocks his hips into your ass and you don't care about what really is going on as his length nudges against the one spot that will have you crying.

Eddie shushes you, kissing away the fat tears that roll down your cheek. The sight of you babbling beneath him in tears as his own cock twitching inside of you. He knows he won't last long, but he slows down to comfort you. "Oh, hey, you're okay. I'm right here," he coos.

The salt of your tears mixes on his tongue with the salt of your previous releases and Eddie's grip on your thighs loosen just a little as his rubs the fingers he can spare to the back of your thighs. "Too much?' he asks noticing how you haven't caught your breath.

You shake your head no. "More, please." It comes out with a croak, but Eddie resumes the snap of his snaps. "Thank you, thank you, thank you.'

"Gratitude has never sounded sexier," Eddie whispers into your neck. "Fuck."

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x male reader #eddie munson x reader #h writes #stranger things #soft dom! eddie #sub!reader

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sweettoothedtrickster13 · 7 months

Text

How to Start a Commonplace Book

Since I have zero desire to start a YouTube channel or a separate website blog, I guess I'll throw this here.

What is a commonplace book?

It's a simple question with a different answer from anyone who keeps one and/or knows what it even is. In very basic terms, a commonplace book is a physical book where you write down quotes you find interesting. That's the extent of what some people do, but I say take it a step further. Add your thoughts on the quote. This helps in a few ways- it helps put the quote in context in your life, and it trains your brain to really think about what you find interesting.

Why a physical book?

There have been tons of studies about handwriting vs typing, but really I can only give you my own experience. I really like the act of writing longhand. It helps cement things in my memory and gives me an actual record of my life. I can look through old notebooks and see what was important to me at that time in my life.

Another reason I think a physical commonplace works better is that it takes time. And that's the point. Re-writing a quote and then your thoughts forces you to slow down and examine yourself to see why you react the way you do. And slowing down in this age of super-fast information is something I think most people would benefit from.

How do I keep one?

Take a notebook- any one will do- and a pen. It doesn't matter if you choose a super fancy $300 notebook and a fountain pen, or a composition book and a ballpoint pen. If you want some cheap options until you find out if you even like the process, I suggest hitting up your local school supply store and getting the cheapest notebook and box of pens you can find. I prefer black ink, but you do you. I like Bic ultra round stick grip pens, but again you do you. The best pen I've come across is the click pen I got for free when I voted. So really any pen will do. You might have to experiment a bit to figure out exactly what you like as you go along. If you want some other advice, I recommend checking out this post. Fair warning, I haven't checked out the brands listed because I have a truly ungodly amount of unfinished notebooks hanging around.

Then you need a source to pull quotes from. You can use books, podcasts, youtube videos, friends, family, countrymen, movies, TV shows. Anything that strikes your fancy and contains quotes that resonate with you in some way. Don't worry about if it isn't 'scholarly' or 'high brow' enough*. I've had quotes from children's cartoons stick with me.

*and 'enough' is really a stupid term because really it only has to matter to you. Fuck everyone else, they shouldn't matter in terms of how you judge yourself. If you like it, that's reason enough.

Why should I keep one?

Expressing any thoughts to yourself and self-examination is a hard process but a worthy one. Only through self-examination will you figure out who you are and what you believe. And figuring that out is crucial, because it's so much easier to just absorb the qualities and thoughts of the people around you instead of standing on your own two feet. Knowing yourself deeply and truly means that you can control your own future better. When you really know yourself, it's really hard for people to try to convince you to do/think something that is antithesis to who you are/who you want to be. Knowing yourself is the first step to knowing who want to be at all. At least in my opinion.

How do I even start?

I recommend your favorite media. As I said before, I don't care if it's a book or a cartoon. Consume it again, and really pay attention to which parts you like. Write them down in your notebook and examine why you like it so much. It will feel weird and awkward and hard at first. You'll automatically want to stop. I say give yourself at least a week of doing this regularly to decide if you want to continue or not.

I also suggest pulling from more than one source of media- if you read a lot of books, try podcasts. If you like TV shows, try movies. Just diversify your intake. You don't have to branch into genres you don't like, but knowing how different media can accomplish different things is a worthwhile endeavor to me.

What if I don't have any thoughts on the quote/can't pin down why I like it?

Leave a blank space after the quote. You might not be able to examine the feelings now, but there will come a time later where you will. The subconscious is a miraculous thing. Often, writing down the quote helps your brain recognize that it's important and worth thinking about. Don't ever feel bad for not figuring it out right away. It will take time.

How do I keep up with the habit?

It doesn't matter if you come across a good quote every day or every week or once every ten years. Just keep your ears and eyes open, and you'll find good ones along the way. And when you find them, write them down.

My commonplace book isn't as pretty/organized as other people's. Why bother?

Fuck others commonplace books. Take inspiration if you want, but your commonplace is just that- yours. You don't have to add drawings or keep an index or have a theme if you don't want to. Just the fact that you are thinking about what you consume puts you ahead of the pack.

Other thoughts

Starting a commonplace book is one of the things that helps me know myself, other than journaling. Both are good in different ways, and I might do a journaling post in the future. Taking a close look at why you react the way you do to certain things is the best way to figure out what the purpose the creator of the media had when they created it. Propaganda isn't just in the news- it's everywhere. Taking the time to examine your reactions to others' words is the best way I've found to recognize it. And if you don't want to go that deep, that's fine too. Consider it a way to keep your favorite quotes close.

So happy commonplace book keeping.

#real life adventures #commonplace book #about writing

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sillyandquiteawkward · 7 months

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ME AGAIN ! GUY WHO LIKES YOUR OCS ! (apparently this didn't send before but thankfully I saved it beforehand !)

Okay So I really really like Bailey and his siblings because they're literally SO bad coping mechanisms core. Like damn therapy wasn't kidding that Child Abuse really Can leave you altered for the rest of your life !

Ignatius is Fawn, due to having had to have adapted into a role of a peacekeeper for people in the house not to fucking bite each other, but also because I can really see him trying to sympathize with everyone around him in an attempt to make himself more approachable, more demure, smaller even, so that no one is mean to him. He wants things to be "normal" Soooo Bad he can't stand the fact people won't just talk to each other despite it feeling like the most logical option [<- Bro cannot accept the circumstances of a much more complicated relationship between his siblings than he originally fathomed !]

Bailey is Flight to me, because much like Octavia points out in that one comic you made innnnn 2022 (? I TINK !), instead of actually solving the issues that bother him head on and face the consequences of doing so, he'd rather walk around them a billion different ways and pretend to be busy and avoidant and Cool because dealing with actual conflict is SCARY !!!!!!! Call this guy "Mask of my own face" by Lemon Demon the way he has never once in his life felt the full extent of his emotions due to an underlying self imposed expectation to be this untouchable being who's always right and never actually has to have a heart to heart with anyone <3. I just think its interesting how you write Bailey to be this all-logic-no-play person, while also giving him the feeling that all of this is an act waiting to fall apart, and that he does not in fact Know A Damn Thing. He's the world's dumbest smart man I wish I could throw him in a well <- loving

And Octavia, of course, is Fight, but not JUST because she's exceedingly aggressive in order to cover up her own insecurities and fear of not being her an actual individual ! There's so much more to her and I'm FASCINATED frankly. She lives in a shadow of someone who has never had much regard for her accomplishments, and now she wants SO BAD to prove that "NO, YOU WERE WRONG, I AM SO GOOD AT THIS AND SO SUCCESSFUL" that she ends up losing her personality along the way. She's so focused on the achievements she has gotten, the fights she has won, the struggle SHE ALONE overcame, that she forgets that she's like... a person. Octavia has been on self defense mode for so long that she's forgotten HOW to take off all that armour, and now she's just stuck under hundreds of pounds of metal waiting for that one final thing that's going to make her happy. I just need to work a little harder ! I just need to do this better ! I just need a little more time to work on this and then I can rest ! I am good ! I am good ! She shouts. And then, when she FINALLY gets that score, that perfect track record, she's like "Great ! This proves me my worth and that I am in fact Good !...Now what". It's never enough and it has never been enough but fucking dammit she will prove it to herself to her mom and to her shitass lazy siblings that NO I AM GOOD. I JUST NEED TO KEEP MOVING FORWARD. IM DOING GOOD BECAUSE I WORK HARD. She's normal ♡ [I love her so bad but PLEASE give her mood stabilizers]

Hoohhg this ended up longer than I imagined but anyway. Tldr, Im Bailey I'm Iggy and Im Octavia the MENTAL ILLNESS siblings <3

(Long essay anon here again sorry) I HAVE SO MANY THOUGHTS ABOUT YOUR OCS CONSTANLTY IM SO SORRY. They came into my house (brain) one day and they haven't left so now I'm conducting experiments on them. They're so cool and I really want you to know that they are. 50 ttrillion dollars for yiu

------

i literally love this soooo much please always feel free to have thoughts about my ocs ANYTIME! your thoughts about the bayleys are SO RIGHT. the mental illness siblings realness 😔 hehehehehe i think its really interesting that they ended up showing off the fight/flight/fawn responses. its not something i entirely planned for them, but its accurate. i especially enjoy the thoughts on bayley's flight response, it really is interesting how hes a master at avoiding things.

some doodles on your thoughts and what i thought would be silly in response. <3 bc i live for this stuff and it makes my day to read things like this, let alone on my own characters (sobbing crying <3<3)

#doc bayley #octavia #ignatius #silly art tag

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doubledyke · 7 months

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Now lets talk about Ed:

1: His intelligence. He's just a doofus, or is he smarter than he looks?

2: Is he this 100% pure cinnamon roll, or he's a kind of jerk just like everyone else (yeah, I find him to be a jerk in some episodes, just like Your Ed Here)?

3: Is he so genuinely sunny and carefree, or is this a mask and he's secretly depressed or struggling (you know, his abusive homelife and all more)?

thanks for giving me some food for thought! i do just wanna say that any and all (okay, most) interpretations and opinions, including unpopular ones are valid, even if i have different ideas. im but a humble dumbass that spends my free time blogging about a cartoon. no one needs a green light from me to feel a certain way about any character. the fun of participating in goofy fandom stuff is to hear opinions from people with different experiences that shape their perception.

that being said 🤔

i've posted here before that i think ed became gratuitously stupid later on, especially for season 5. maybe he got brain damage from eddy using him as a battering ram so often. but he's got some lucidity sprinkled on top of his oafishness throughout the series. i don't think he's "stupid", i think he just stays in his own little world and that his brain works differently than others'. early on he comes off more as a dopey guy who hangs with eddy because they're both outcasts and can be themselves around each other. not a lot of options, if you get my drift. of all three eds he has the least culpability when it comes to their eventual injurious antics, in my opinion. he's kinda just there because he hangs out with eddy (and edd) and that's what eddy does. there's a true friendship there, don't get me wrong. but i don't think the eds started hanging out because they found each other interesting or cool lmao. that's comes later as they get to know each other and experience trauma together.......anyway, im getting off track.

i think ed is just as multi-faceted as anyone else, it's just maybe those facets aren't explored as much as they are for the other two idiots.

that being said, i don't see him as a jerk personally, but he has his moments i'm sure. i think it's moreso that he doesn't have much of a filter and just says what he thinks. and it's obvious that his doting on sarah is not because he actually gives that much of a shit but because he gets in trouble if she tells their parents. not that it really matters because she makes shit up all the time. he's probably said a lot more jerk-ish things but they're made incomprehensible by his use of nonsensical literary devices. little ed blue is one of my favorite episodes because as we get to see ed when he's upset and irritable which is rare and always fleeting. i'll leave it at that and recommend @gettingfrilly's recent post about that scene where ed is on the tree stump just fuming. they're way more qualified than i to examine this type of stuff 🥴 i'll reblog it after i post this. but i do find it hilarious that he grabs eddy by the face and throws him into a tree. with edd, he gives a warning and pushes him away. there are lots of examples of him being notably gentler with edd and probably even jimmy and others a few times. overall i feel like he's not really intentionally violent with anyone besides eddy. i have a terrible memory so despite watching every episode several times by now, i tend to forget stuff often. so i could be wrong. anyway, again i digress. in 'your ed here' he makes a few playfully sassy remarks when he's playing tic tac toe with edd, but i don't really see it as him being a jerk per se. he thinks he's good at the game so he's doing his weird version of bragging and teasing. and I think a lot of times he comes off as aloof when someone (eddy) is being humiliated and/or getting their ass kicked but i think that has to do with him again, being in his own world and not necessarily because he doesn't care. and finally, with him laughing at eddy and edd's middle names, i just don't find it to be mean-spirited. he thinks the names are funny and so, he laughs.

one example of him being snotty that comes to mind right now is from another of my fave episodes, 'thick as an ed'. it's hilarious to see him try to clap back at edd by saying "stinky hat" over and over. he's expressing genuine annoyance at double dee being well, fucking annoying as usual. to me it's unlikely that edd's hat actually stinks so that means ed came up with something he knew would get under edd's skin. you could argue that it's a bit of a dick move! but given the context of the episode, he's reached a breaking point after his friends have done nothing but try to take his beloved lucky cheese chunk. i can't believe i'm writing this right now.

anyhow, there's definitely a theory out there that ed is putting on an act of being stupid and clumsy just to essentially spite eddy, or foil the scams. it's just not my own personal take on things. interesting nonetheless!

yeah man, ed has an unquestionably awful life at home. his maladaptive daydreaming is definitely a coping mechanism for his shitty reality and probably helps him make sense of the things going on around him. i think ed has a bit of a lack of object permanence (for lack of a better phrase) so once he's away from his house and sarah isn't around, he might be able to put his hardships on the back burner for a while. with the other two eds, they wear their emotions and trauma on their sleeves. there's a lot in what they do, say, and how they react that are tells for their less than ideal upbringings and lack of emotional well-being. a big difference is that they try to hide it and don't explicitly state that things are though back home. with ed we mostly gain insight from his interactions with sarah, the neglected state of his room and personal hygiene, and the random things he discloses about his parents a handful of times. he doesn't even express his opinion about how his parents or sarah act, he simply recalls his past experiences. he's smart enough to grasp cause and effect, even if it doesn't ways show in his actions. his cheerfulness might come off as him being blissfully unaware and i think that's because he essentially is?? at the very least when he's not being actively lambasted by his mother, he's able to hardcore dissociate and go off into ed-land to escape the horrors ™.

TL;DR: i don't think ed's thick-headedness detracts from his distinct personality. he is a loveable oaf and that's perfectly fine in my book. i don't think he's a "cinnamon roll", but i also don't think he's a jerk. my opinion is that he leans waaaaay more towards benevolence. and yeah i absolutely think he's experiencing a lot of neglect and trauma, no doubt about it. i don't see his sweet disposition as a mask necessarily, but more as the result of masterful compartmentalization.

#thanks again! i have a headache so im gonna spare everyone any further attempt to form cohesive thoughts at the moment #@gettingfrilly don't roast my poorly expressed takes too hard #text

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watermelonsugarsigh · 2 years

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fraction of your heart ~ part three

summary: Y/N’s math skills aren’t the best, but she thinks she has a pretty good judgement of character - and Peter Parker does not pass the test. Find the masterlist here!

warnings: swearing, v bad math explanations please don't come for me i was a communications major at uni

word count: 1.3k

A/N: I actually have next chapter already planned out omg im keen as beans

Y/N was ready to throw her algebra textbook at Peter’s head.

“Let’s just try this one more time.” Peter had been very patient with her, condescendingly so, and Y/N was one more equation away from dropping out of college altogether.

“I understand it,” she said, combing her hair back with her fingers, tugging at the roots of her hair in order to get some of her frustration out. “I just - I can’t get it out of my brain onto the page.”

“All you have to do is simplify the equation.” Peter reached for the pencil she was gripping tightly in her hand, fingers brushing against hers as he pried her knuckles loose from the wooden exterior. Y/N recoiled from his touch, a burning patch of heat remaining where the pad of his thumb swiped against the back of her hand.

Y/N looked up, wide eyed to find Peter already looking at her. Suddenly, the air around them felt heavier, like someone was pressing on her lungs.

“Uh,” Peter averted his gaze and the moment was lost as quickly as it started. He grabbed the graph paper that was laying in front of Y/N and pulled it closer toward him, scrawling out a myriad of symbols without a second thought. “So yeah. You just use the distributive properties to rewrite it, then simplify and add like terms. Then, the answer is the same as Option B, so you choose that one…but I guess that didn’t need explaining-“

“Ugh!” Y/N’s head hit the table, arms crossing just before the moment of impact. If her eyes weren’t shut in front of her, she might have noticed Peter jump beside her, arms and back tensed ready to attack at any given moment. For a split second, Peter’s eyes scanned the room, only relaxing when he determined that nobody was in immediate danger. “How are you so good at this? I’m never going to pass this course.”

“Hey,” Peter lifted his hand and went to rest it on her shoulder, but hesitated, hovering for a moment before ultimately deciding to place it back on the table in front of him. “You’ll get this. You’re smart. There’s been plenty of times where I’ve been frustrated, and it works out okay - well, most of the time anyway.”

There was a pause, a moment of silence, where the only sounds Y/N could tune into were the gentle hum of the air conditioning and the rhythmic breathing that ebbed and flowed between Peter and herself.

“I’m sorry,” Peter murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “I’m not so good with words and... emotional things.”

“It’s okay,” Y/N answered, lifting her head off the desk. She could feel a red mark beginning to imprint on her forehead where her hands had been acting as a pillow, and she ran her fingers across the mark in an attempt to soothe it. “Thanks anyway, for the help and putting up with me.”

“So,” Peter said, brushing over Y/N’s apology, something that would have given him another cross on Y/N’s naughty list if she wasn’t so strung up about her own work. He started grabbing stationery items that had sprawled itself across the desk and packing them into his backpack. “Same time next week?”

“Yeah,” Y/N responded, still in a daze. She paused. “Actually, are you free Saturday? My roommate is dragging me to a party on Saturday night and knowing Flash Thompson, I don’t think I’ll be very coherent on Sunday.”

“Oh.” If there was one thing that Y/N had noticed over the past hour, it was that Peter wasn’t very good at hiding his emotions. Y/N made a mental note to never tell him a secret; he didn’t look like he would be able to keep anything from anyone. “Yeah, uh, I was invited to that too. I don’t know if I’ll go though.”

“Why not?”

“Well,” he bit his tongue, trying to come up with the right words to reply. “We went to high school together. But, like, he didn’t know who I was, we never interacted at all but yeah, he wasn’t the nicest person to everyone. I’m sure he wouldn’t remember me at all.”

“You should go,” Y/N found herself saying. “I mean, if you want to. You seem to be friends with everyone so I’m sure you’d be missed.”

“Friends with everyone?”

“Yeah,” Y/N said. “I don’t know one other person who doesn’t like you.”

“One other?”

Y/N’s heart dropped. She didn’t mean it like that, but the damage was done. Her eyes widened as Peter processed what she had just said. Obviously hurt, Peter stood up and picked his backpack up from the floor.

“Saturday will be fine. I - I’ll see you in class.”

Y/N opened her mouth to say something, but he was already out the door. She sighed, but she knew there wasn’t anything else she could do. With slightly more mathematical knowledge and somehow a worse relationship with Peter than she had before, Y/N packed up her things and made her way out of the library.

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drtanner · 4 months

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I'm feeling directionless today and it's resulting in me sitting here with my thoughts and getting rankled about Numerous things, but mostly about how bullshit it is to hear how other people in enviable positions got to where they are and how fucking isolated I am from anyone who could meaningfully help me achieve anything. There's that quote, something about being less interested in the weight and convulsions of Einstein's brain than the certainty that people of equal talent have lived and died in cotton fields and sweat shops; I think about that quote just about every fucking day, and I especially think about it, and think about it bitterly, when I hear about someone who got to where they are by knowing someone in the industry they got into, or getting lucky by being in the right place at the right time, or having the freedom to try something that might not work.

(tl;dr - Yes, this is about the monster dating sim, again, but also it's really not. I've been pissed about this stuff for A While.)

The more I sit here and have ideas for this video game that will never get made, because I certainly can't make it by myself but it's either by myself or not at all, the more irritated and resentful I get at having been railroaded into mediocrity. Where were my big opportunities in my youth? The people I was supposed to connect with and get a leg up from when I was older? All I was ever told when I was growing up was that I should work hard at school, get good grades and ensure myself a sensible job that paid well, and to never dare dream of doing anything else. Now I'm a few years shy of being 40 and I'm fucking nothing, and frustratingly isolated from anyone who could actually help me execute any of the ideas I've been having. I could have all the good ideas in the world and it wouldn't mean shit.

For someone who grew up being told that my being "bright" would automatically assure me greatness as long as I never let that inherent trait of brightness be compromised by mistakes or failure, I sure did end up going fucking nowhere.

"Oh Tanner, just learn to code! You can find everything you need to learn to code for free online! It's easy, you can just make your game by yourself!" Yeah, maybe if the fucking ADHD meds had worked for more than a fucking day. I have a disability that affects my focus and memory, I am not learning how to do jack or shit, no matter how much I might want to. Just the thought of sitting down and coding something sets my brain shrieking like a distressed toddler and I think it might actually kill me to try, and that's before we get into how much art would be necessary to make this fucking thing. I work so fucking slowly, it would take me a fucking lifetime to make enough art for even the simplest dating sim. It is not fucking feasible.

I know what needs to be coded! I've spent the last few weeks coming up with Systems and ways to make things work beyond the basic functionality of a bog standard dating sim that I know wouldn't be difficult to code for someone who knows how! I know what art needs to be made! I just can't fucking do it myself, and once again I am left to wonder how, exactly, one becomes an Eccentric Auteur™ who just has the ideas and doles them out to a team of vastly more practical people who turn them into real things. One assumes that you have to have money to get started doing that, which I, a disabled old queer, most certainly do not.

It's going to be by myself or not at all, so I guess it's going to be not at all. Life's not a bed of roses, is it.

NB: Pre-emptively, I know that there are game engines that one can use to make dating sims easily. They are not going to be sufficient for the shit that I've been throwing into this game's google doc for the last few weeks. Believe me when I say that I'm more upset about this than you are.

Also, if you try to suggest that I should use AI to help me with any part of this, I'm going to walk to your house and smash your fucking kneecaps with a brick. I should not have to explain why.

#Tanner talks #the PhDemon Dating Sim #long post

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getlostsquidward · 2 years

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I am foaming at the mouth, holy FUCK. This was so, so good.

You watch with slight awe and ever growing arousal as Claire confidently carves the last would-be assassin up, their screams growing weaker and weaker as they bleed out, twitching and moving less and less.

As she works, a slow, feral smile creeps across her face, and when she raises her head in the middle of it all to meet your eyes you groan at the sight of bloodlust gleaming at you, causing Claire to breathlessly giggle.

"I feel like a schoolgirl again." She confesses. "This is exhilarating."

You offer her a upwards twist of your lips, finding it difficult to focus on much else then the burning heat building up between your thighs.

"You're so pretty like this." You say, stepping closer to her.

Claire's eyes rake their way up and down your body, as they so often do, and it's not just bloodlust in her eyes anymore when she brings them back up to your face.

"Let me finish this first. Be a good girl for me, get on your knees and wait." She orders.

You drop immediately, want starting to cloud your senses.

Dangerous, your mind whispers.

You bite your lip, watching for a few more moments as Claire neatly slices through flesh.

"I need to do a sweep."

She pauses. "Two minutes." She allows.

You nod, though Claire can't see it, and flit out of the room, keeping to the darker parts of the building where you're able as you ensure there's no one still waiting.

Once satisfied there's no more people in the building, you return to Claire's office, settling back into the spot you had just left, kneeling.

"All clear?" Claire wants to know, standing back to admire her handiwork.

"I wouldn't be here like this if it were."

She turns then, and you can feel the way your mouth waters at the sight of her.

She's covered with blood, red staining her hands and clothes, a few drops speckling her face as well. There's a shmear of it across her cheek, as if she used the back of hand to rub it and just made more of a mess.

She's beautiful.

A slow smirk starts to take over Claire's expression as she realizes you're utterly enthralled by her, and she purposefully swings her hips as she walks over.

The words just tumble out, unbidden, unthinkingly, but no less true for it.

"I love you."

And then her eyes darken, want sparking deep within them, and it's an intoxicating cocktail of different desires as she pulls you up by your hair to kiss you, hard and hungry.

"Oh, darling," she whispers. "I love you too."

Oh.

Certainty floods through you at her confession, and your lust feels doubled.

"Let me make you feel good, mommy." You say, and Claire groans at the title, pushing you back down to your knees.

She's wearing a dress today, a shorter one, and it makes it easy to push it up.

"...were you not wearing underwear at all today?" You ask when you're met with her dripping wet center, her thighs glistening with arousal that had dripped down.

"What do you think, baby?" Claire's eyes are half lidded as she gazes down at you.

"Fuck." You breath out.

"I've been thinking about you all day." She confesses as you gently stroke a fingertip through her folds. "I wanted to so badly fuck this little attitude of yours out of you."

She moans when you push two fingers into her, meeting little resistance.

"I had soaked through my underwear before it was even midmorning."

Your breath catches in your throat at the thought of Claire being so worked up, being so wet, that she had to discard the idea of wearing panties entirely.

"Fuck, doll." Claire throws her head back when your tongue meets her clit. "You feel so fucking good." ~S.H.💜

(I may or may not now be planning on writing this. Dark!Claire makes brain go brrrrrrrrrrr)

YESSS!!!! tag me pleaseee

idk what to add except. dark!claire is so fucking hot...........

okay wait i have a question. anyone who's been reading this whole dark au feel free to answer.

do you think claire would think about marking reader up? not the typical hickeys and bruises but like...actual scars. she'd carve her initials name on their body to stake her claim on reader. they're all hers, and no amount of legal documents (contract, marriage certificate) could show their loyalty than claire's name on their freshly cut skin as proof of loyalty and devotion??

#hmmm many thoughts #anyway thank u sm s.h. and bandit for sharing dark!claire thoughts!!!!!#dark!claire #claire brainrot #claire debella x reader #s.h.💜

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firebuug · 9 months

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13, 14 and 31 for the uncommon oc questions? for whatever ocs come to mind first

(also A and B for the creator questions for whoever comes to mind too :> )

before i look at the questions UHHH ill choose eva and centi because theyre bouncing in my head (eva bc brainrot centi bc hes my icon).

13. What color do they think they look best in? Do they actually look best in that color?

eva was raised as a little nestie boy and in my mind very fancy rich colors are always light and pastel like marble and stuff and my brain always sees him dressed in white. i think he thinks he looks most dapper in white. maybe even gray. monochromes mostly because its hard to coordinate an outfit when your hair is fuckin Blue and you don't want to look like a stupid clown.

i however am in the impression that eva would look nice in red. and golds. and pale greens. and black. i just like eva

centi does NOT CARE in fact he HATES UNNECESSARY HUMAN CONSTRUCTS. what do you MEAN i cant go out to the supermarket in the human's PAJAMAS eva you are an IDIOT a FOOL a DOG to abiding to such STUPID human standards i am CONSERVING MY ENERGY . he doesn't care....but i guess he'd like colors that help him stealth or that he's had on him as a centipede bug

14. What animal do they fear most?

i . have never thought of this. UH. man i feel like animals are weird in PMworld. do they have zoos. obviously they have animals bc a lot of abnos are animal based but like. are they frequent. do people go to the zoos and see lions anymore. man. anyways i think if Eva met a chimp he would be scared. i feel like if he saw a hippo he'd be kinda scared. i dont think he'd be scared of horses he'd think theyre beautiful. i think, to a city dweller, animals arent as scary as the Daily Horrors you face, but at the same time, eva is a nestie what animals is he seeing? birds?? white eye crust dogs??????? lizards????? i think he'd be scared of snakes. oh my god he'd be scared of snakes. OH MY GOD HIS BOYFRIEND DISTORTS INTO A GIANT SNAKE BUG i think he'd be scared of snakes. i don't think he'd like bugs but he is fine with taking bugs out in a cup or throwing a newspaper at them but i think his parents kept his childhood house as bug-free as possible

centi is scared of anything that is scarier than him because it usually means it is a stronger devil than him. he is a predator bug outside of his fiend form and eats other bugs that are weaker and is very scary but he'd know his fucking place in front of Spider Devil or some shit. also he would probably not like dogs and cats. anything that poses a threat to a little centipede. however. as a human somehting like a bird? he laughs at now. dogs and cats? those can still fuck him up and put him in his place (owww scratches)

31. Who are they the most glad to have met?

theres very obvious answers here. but genuinely even if they annoy him sometimes or make his work harder eva does appreciate meeting his friends and his future bf at lobcorp because, if he had worked here for this long without making friends with ANYONE. no matter what he tells himself he would have been so much more miserable. having friends isnt what he came here for but its what happened and hes grateful that his friends somehow didnt get tired of him and put up with his rocky beginnings because he doesn't know if he wouldve ever found joy in this work without them

he is also, as expected, very glad to have met julian because otherwise after the wing fell he probably would have no other reason to be on this earth other than "maybe make weird art until you run out of money and starve". jules kind of rocked his mindset too and helped him realize the people around him at the corp Arent just dumb npcs who are expendable, they are Human and Mortal and Will Die. they experience emotion just like him. and even if they ar einsufferable they are human and you will ifnd yourself crying when they die even if you only knew them as the guy from info team who made your life worse. he cant fester in hatred and hope someone innocent eats shit because one day theyll die and he'll be stuck with those emotions, and not everyone comes back like jules did

centi.... well. this is mostly just inner oc stuff with my friend and i's ocs hehe. but he is happy to meet another bug devil like him. because well...i like to think theres SOme sort of solidarity in being a scary bug. maybe hes a bit jealous. but then theyre just..homies. he doesnt have to face the isolation of feeling like an eldrich monstrosity living in some dudes apartment and getting yelled at for being an eldritch monstrosity and being Different and being Caged in a Stupid Inferior Human Body God FUcking Damn It alone. he has another bug guy going thru the same. we must imagine the bug fiends happy

also despite how much he despises eva at first he eventually realizes this weird as fuck THing is actually. not killing him. this is a devil hunter yet he's making me a grilled cheese. whats wrong with hinm. i can throw his stuff around and he can get upset but he will still let me sleep in his house and stand up for me. whats wrong with him. eventually he will slowly warm up to him...but he'll still bother him. thats what fiends do

A) Why are you excited about this character?

for eva? I DONT KNOW . I DONT KNOW!!!!!!!! HES JUST SOME DUDE!!!! BUT I GAVE HIM MY LOVE FOR MUSIC MY LOVE FOR FISH AND GAVE HIM MULTIPLE NEUROSES AND NOW I LOVE HIM . THE FUCK. i also really love his distortion. just. grips heart. a lot of my ocs and stories have this theme of isolation, i guess it's something i like to explore a lot, and considering eva is a (count with me) autistic transgender mentally ill born-rich kid who was raised kind of sheltered from the full extent of horrors and Forced to go down a pre-determined path from birth . and not only that but he becomes even more of a fish out of water post-lobcorp and literally experiences the isolation of not even having a true god reach him through the metal walls of the corporation. idk. i think he's pretty isolationcore and neurosispilled and his distortion is fun because YES WE CAN FINALLY GO APESHIT!!!!!!!!!!!!! CATHARSIS!!! BUT PAIN AND GRIEF MANIFESTED INTO A PHYSICAL BLIND RAMPAGED BEING!!!!!

centi because he is a fucking BUG!!!!!! AND HES EVIL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! AND HES SILLY!!!!!!!!!!! CARTOONISHLY EVIL FREAK WHO USED TO BE A LEGIT THREAT!!!!!! I LOVE THOSE FUCKERS!!!!!! and not only that HE SHARES A BODY WITH THE POLAR OPPOSITE AND IS A HORRIBLE MONSTER BEING FORCED TO LIVE AMONG HUMA---god damn it its another isolation and not fitting in story. BUG DYSPHORIA

B) What inspired you to create them?

nothing crazy here- eva was randomly generated employee number 2 in my lobcorp facility, i grew attached to him thru keeping him alive and also i liked his grumpy little face. survived to the very end of my playthrough, and juleva started as a crackship but i did like their dynamic a lot..................... things just escalated from there

centi because ummm i made a csm au of my ocs and i wanted julian to be the Centipede Fiend to reference his distortion but i created a whole new personality for the Centipede Devil inside of him and went oh my god i love them, i need them to be a new person, i love them, oh my god

thanks so much for the opportunity to ramble! if you made it this far im marrying you.

#ask #anon #rambles #ocs #eva #centi

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burningdarkfire · 2 years

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i don’t know how to write this post except by writing it, so: over the past month and a half i have written a now-finished 25k+ word explicit a/b/o series featuring the wizard polycule and i have uploaded it to a second separate ao3 account.

if you follow me because you like my writing and want to check it out, please do so! make sure to mind the tags and you can read it in either posting or series order. it is wildly outside the parameters of my usual so i would absolutely love positive feedback (especially if you read it in series order, now that it’s finally finished)

an extended author’s note below about motivations/lessons learned

why did i do this? i am semi-open about writing fanfiction irl and i have a consistent username across many platforms. i do not want a coworker to be able to find my Extremely Online smut with a quick google. i’ve thought about making separate accounts for a long time and took the plunge on a whim

but why did i really do this? i’ve had a crippling “rules for me but not for thee” mindset for years where i didn’t want to write anything too weird or too dark even though i truly never judge anyone else for writing whatever the hell they want. writing this series made me realize how much shame and guilt i had about certain things that i didn’t even realize i was carrying. it’s all silly. i wish to be free 🤷‍♂️

it was, and honestly still is, more important to me to protect my peace in fandom spaces than it is to actually write every single thing that comes into my brain. maybe this will change. i have, at the very least, opened up some new space for myself

what did i learn from doing this? well, this series is officially the second longest thing i’ve written for critrole so far (blood moon pending). i can write a lot and quite quickly when i’m not hung up on quality (i uploaded most of these fics the same day that i finished them). i’ve been reminded of how awesome it feels when you’re writing something that feels niche but you find a handful of people who are really into it right with you 😊

but! i am certain that i would’ve liked the end product more if i had written and edited it as a cohesive whole instead of throwing it up piecemeal as i went along. i obviously didn’t expect this whole universe to spiral out from something i literally wrote in one sitting while lying on my kitchen floor, so i don’t regret doing this the way i did, but there’s a lot of gender and desire stuff in here that i wish i could’ve explored better. the ‘verse is perfect for it and i don’t know when i’ll have the time/energy/want to circle back to writing something Very Similar But Better

i am very glad i did this though, it has been an incredibly rewarding experience and i do think some little bits of my character work were awesome actually. 10/10 would recommend getting a secret ao3 account just to fuck around and see what you can find out

#my posts #writing blogging

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tiniest-hands-in-all-the-land · 2 years

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I felt like barfing out my thoughts

Hi, hello, long time no see. This isn’t really any sort of update or anything; like the title says, i just have some thoughts and i want to put them into words lol. And i’m putting it here instead of twitter cuz of the bigger word count fa;ewiofna;e

THIS IS A WHOLEASS JUMBLE OF WORDS THAT DON’T REALLY MEAN ANYTHING, SO FEEL FREE TO JUST SKIP PAST

Anyways, um... i feel like i’m kinda losing the thread on bnha. It doesn’t really have anything to do with how the story is going or anything (though i will admit my focus is stronger whenever there are major moments with aizawa and mic, which,,,, there haven’t been much lately fla;oewfnwai), but more to do with the fact that i’ve been here for 4 years straight, which is,, the longest time i’ve been in one fandom at a time??? i’m super impressed of myself by that, but also?? kinda burnt out and honestly kinda super lonely?

Since finishing my multichap, i’ve actually had a little time to try and catch up on fanart and fanfic i’ve missed, and,, i dunno. none of it’s really getting me; even content that has all the tropes and ships i’m super into hasn’t been really grabbing me. It’s nothing to do with the quality of said works; they’re all well-crafted. Idk i’m just not feeling as enthusiastic as i once did.

Not to mention like 95% of the people who were in the em fandom back when i first joined have all moved onto other fandoms, so a lot of the time it kinda just feels like i’m t-posing and screaming silently in a very big and empty room lol. And this isn’t meant to throw shade at anyone!! I genuinely hope all my mutuals are having the time of their lives with whatever series they devote their attention to. It’s just hard for me to keep being invested in a thing when everyone i know that was there with me have all moved on lol. And then also i feel like i lost a good 2/3s of my audience cuz of my extended hiatus, so that also puts a damper on things.

Ideally, I want to stay with bnha at least until the story concludes. But i’m not sure how long that’s gonna be, and how invested i can keep myself until that point. Right now my focus is being pulled in like 4 or 5 different directions: bnha, OC stuff, real life stuff, and a few other small interests i dabble in every now and again like botw. So it’s been uhhh... tough... to keep one stable thread going rn lol

Now that I’m graduating, I want to try and post more often, i’m just,,,, not sure what i would be posting. Again, ideally, I would love to get some spark for erasermic and rooftop squad stuff. But my brain has just been mush when it comes to coming up with any sort of art/story ideas lately. I don’t know what it is, but it feels like i just can’t come up with any sort of semi-to-fully fleshed out plot anymore. And not even just with fandom stuff, but with original stuff too. Over this past semester, I managed to come up with an original story and characters that i actually kinda like and want to pursue, but i just keep running into these blank spots that, no matter how hard i try, i can’t find a way to fill them in. I can’t bring myself to blame depression for my mental fog, just cuz in the past i was going through a bad depression bout, and that time ended up being the peak of my creativity, so idk what’s really going on with me right now f;aoweifn

I know a good portion of it is probably cuz i restrict how many stories i consume cuz i don’t like the threat of potentially jumping fandoms. I have a whole list of anime recommendations waiting for me and other shows/stories/whatnot that i’ve been passingly interested in, and i hesitate to watch any of them, cuz there’s always that chance i’ll get too invested. Unfortunately, i’m not one of those people who can have a bunch of hyperfixations lying dormant until someone speaks the magic words and suddenly i’m all about it again. The way my dumb brain works is that I have 1 Big interest and a few very small interests. The small interests are basically always there, and i can consume them quickly and briefly without ending up consumed by them. But once that 1 Big interest changes, it takes a lot of time and effort to try and keep up the enthusiasm for that previous Big interest, and often times, it doesn’t work out and i get to the point where i basically don’t want to see anything pertaining to that old Big interest anymore (if that makes,,,,,, any lick of sense at all omfg)

Idk. This is a whole mess and a half of words lol. Guess what i’m trying to lament is my inability to consume new media without fear of it taking over my brain af;oewina. I want to find new stories, I want to expand my horizons, but i always dread the possibility of jumping ship to a different fandom. And I know i know it’s a really stupid thing to be worried about, but idk. I invested a lot of time into bnha, a lot of which got lost when i went on my hiatus, and a part of me is just like “bro you’re not DONE here”, but like,,, brain no worky. And i’m not entirely sure what to do or how to feel lol

TL;DR:

- I’m getting kinda burnt out on bnha but i don’t really know whether to try and hold on or just let go; and if i let go, i don’t know what will happen lol

- i want to try and post more, but i’m not sure what i’ll be posting

- my brain is Big Stupid and it’s frustrating

#wow this was a fuckin mess #sorry and rip to anyone who read through that #i think the biggest hurt rn that i'm feeling is the OC story thing #and how i can't get myself to commit to it #it's just really frustrating that's all #i'm like toying around the idea of potentially /trying/ to do a webcomic #but in order to do that i have to fully realize my story #and my brain goes from 'this is the best thing ever!' to 'omfg why did you think this was a good idea? DID you think??' in like 2 seconds #i also just #don't feel like i have anyone to talk to about any of this #made the mistake of telling my parents that i was having woes about fandom rn #and my dad in all his infinite wisdom was like 'lmao i don't give a shit about that. i have a LIFE'#like okay. cool. you don't have to pretend to care about it but at least don't berate me for my goddamn hobby #idk this is a mess and i get the fun pleasure of dealing with it all alone in my little mind palace :)#i'll shut up now #long post

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lovecolibri · 2 years

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SaL anon here bestie, having enjoyed your morning salt. Tragically I'd call this one of the best episodes this season, thanks the Kyle, as always, setting everyone straight and focusing on what matters (who do you think is the heart of the show again writers?). Looking forward to more of your salty thoughts later, but as usual I'm here to provide RNM bullshit: science edition. So first off any well researched science points the episode might have had (it had none) are automatically null and void

due to Liz bringing back the cursed phrase "the science". I look forward to never having to hear that again when the show ends. Next, in the Liz and Max scene with the pods she mentions "Hawkins radiation" and "Lagrange multipliers" which are in fact real things. Sadly they have absolutely nothing to do with Liz's current resurrection research unless her plan was to detect and throw the dead frog into a black hole to bring it back to life (probably a plot the writers considered). Here's the thing writers, being a scientist doesn't grant you mystical in depth knowledge if every field in science. Liz is not an expert in general relativity because she has a degree in biochemistry (and after the "ionized proton" remark I have serious concerns about the chemistry part of that). Finally, the second Liz and Shivani talk. *me seeing the chemical structures on the whiteboard* "NO! BAD WRITERS!! You can't have an carbon partially unbonded like that!!" *me, all of 0.5 seconds later looking at Liz's tablet while hysterically laughing* "What the actual fuck is THAT!!" There so much wrong in those notes it would take minimum 10 asks to cover. Who's in charge of the science props of this show? Please writers, put any freshman student taking chem 101 in charge and offer to buy them a pizza. They will do a better job in the time it takes them to eat it. As an aside, Liz and Shivani vaping poorly CGIed alien mist made me laugh. Enjoy my friend!!

Hi bestie! Sorry this took me so long to get to, but that reviewer wasn’t lying when she called this an energy vampire of a season and I just haven’t been able to bring myself to deal this week. I agree that out of this mess of a season, this has been one of the best episodes so far and it really is down to Kyle being back, dropping truth bombs on Max, snuggling into that hug with Isobel while deftly turning Michael’s comments aside and keeping Isobel’s confidence about what happened with them (not that Max and Michael won’t figure it out, but Kyle is so good at not being *totally* obvious unlike Michael who cannot hide his 🥺 face about Alex like, ever), and being THEE captain of the Malex ship and Michael’s cheerleader and refusing to let anyone give up on Alex. 100% the heart of this show.

I can’t wait for this show to be over if only so I never have to hear “The Science” ever again. Even Jeanine’s brilliance can’t save that line. At least she mentioned so real science things, but I’m with you on being confused on why she didn’t throw out some science babble from her related field, though I suppose the answer is “the mist made her brilliant about everything”. Though I thought it was implied it helped “free your thinking” to come up with out of the box ideas, not “implanted knowledge you never had directly into your brain” but it’s not like the writers know or care about how anything on this show, including the passage of time, how long it takes to get places, or how friendships work so 🤷🏻‍♀️

Honestly, I’m seriously doubting they bothered to hire a scientist consultant at all, but you’d think that googling terms and pictures of chemical structures would lead to them being at least a little right sometimes. But that’s also like saying that with the set up of a major main character like Alex being kidnapped they’d have to stumble on an emotional beat at some point, even accidentally, and it’s starting to feel purposeful that they haven’t. Was someone on the writing staff dumped by a scientist at some point and all this stuff is done purposefully wrong out of spite? Because BOY does this season feel like a lot of spite-writing for pretty much every character. Except for m*ria who supposedly ends the series getting “everything”, so we have that to look forward to 🙄

I can’t decide which is worse, another episode without a Malex reunion, or a Malex reunion directed by someone who called people’s genuine triggers about consent “noise” that they needed to shut up about. Fingers crossed whatever the reunion is and whenever we get it, that it’s entirely free of m*ria mentions, that Vlamis and Tyler’s work to make it worth it comes through and isn’t trimmed down in editing, and that if it has to be in that god-awful blue filter, it’s at least not at the dead of night since the scene at the end of 4x10 was partially visible.

Three more episodes until these characters do not belong to that joke of a writers room anymore.

#my sweet nonnie friends #sleeping at last anon #roswell nm #roswell spoilers #roswell nm my behated #roswell nm writers room my beloathed #anti maria deluca #we haven't even gotten to do SONGS this season 😭#this was supposed to be the season of domestic malex!#after 4x02 this was supposed to be the season of feral michael and angsty songs like West #maybe 4x11 or 4x12 will give that to us?#at least the vlambase drop will give us some good malex pics and merch #someone give them a spinoff series #i would put up with that blue filter forever if they wanted to stay there #far away from their so-called friends #kyle dallas and sanders can visit and i'm sure they will allow isobel as well #but that is IT

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fuckedupwizard · 6 months

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some of my thoughts on saw x (i saw it yesterday so i might be forgetting some things, i have issues wrt memory), spoilers obviously:

i saw someone say "despite the feelgood ending of them walking off into the sunset, this is not a happy movie for amanda" and i completely agree. i think saw x works really well at showcasing a younger, more compassionate amanda - obviously she's not at the level of compassion an Ordinary Person would be at since she can watch extreme torture and death without batting an eye - but she's not totally corrupted yet, or totally disenchanted with john. she believes in him, but she's not at the level of fantacism she will later be, or at the point where she decides his philosophy doesn't actually work. amanda at this point still thinks people's souls can be 'saved' and that hers was, but she's also kind of resistant to the idea of testing gabriela because i think she still remembers how what she personally went through was torture (and, tragically, she's gonna be tortured/'tested' like, twice more in the future not counting what she goes through in this movie), and obviously feels empathy towards another person who did bad things because they were deep in the grip of drug addiction.

i think this movie is good at explaining why amanda becomes disenchanted. john is kind of set up as the 'good guy' of the movie by virtue of being the protagonist and facing off against an antagonist who is also extremely evil in ways that break even his 'moral code' - which is also REALLY proven to be hypocritical here, as much as you might want to cheer for john (and i was totally like Go Grandpa throughout the whole movie). when he thinks he might be getting his life back, he throws away his plans for future traps, which shows that under all the bluster about wanting to help people and give them a new lease of life, he really is just... punishing people for having the one thing he desperately wants and can't have, a future. even the people who ARE some level of evil don't deserve to be put in a saw trap. obviously though he has a Giant Tumour In His Brain so expecting rationality from him seems silly, but still. similarly, i might be remembering wrong, but i feel like every other victim got an opportunity to NOT do the test? like if they didn't, they'd be stuck in the trap and die there, obviously - there's no getting away scot free, but he wants at least one 'subject' to start the trap themselves and give themselves the opportunity to be tested. but gabriela wasn't allowed that - she tried to throw the tape away and say no, and john started the trap anyway.

then gabriela DID pass her test, and obviously was killed by cecelia, and amanda was absolutely outraged by that - and then cecelia 'passes' her test and is allowed to survive. she is punished by knowing she was outsmarted by john, and having all of her money taken, but she lives, and in a way the test was almost designed to let her do that. valentina, matteo, diego and gabriela - all people who partook in this extremely awful scam, but people who were still kind of pawns to cecelia - went through insane levels of pain and, in gabriela's case, would be disfigured for life even if they lived. cecelia's test was to fight someone she proclaims to love to the death. john knows the kind of person she is, and that she doesn't love anyone except herself. i almost feel like putting her through something physically painful/deforming would be more of a test for cecelia? and i think amanda will look back on her time in mexico and be like, that's utter bullshit. people like cecelia are completely incapable of change.

wrt to john and carlos - people pointed out that he seemed appalled that cecelia would put an innocent child in a trap, but one of the tests he gave an earlier subject was to kill an innocent woman and child. but i don't think it's that much of a surprise, i think john was really angry because carlos wasn't one of his planned test subjects. not so much that he's an innocent child, more that he was dragged into it when john hadn't planned for that. he'd planned for the bloodboarding trap to be used on either parker and cecelia OR him and amanda, but not carlos. and also, i think he genuinely liked carlos, the way he genuinely cared for jill and gideon. he cares for amanda, but in a way that he made her his apprentice. it's different to the way he cares for people he wouldn't want to involve on that level.

none of this is actually a criticism of the movie, i think it's really smart in terms of amanda's arc! part of me wishes cecelia was a bit less of a cartoon villain, but she was a lot of fun and isn't that what saw as a franchise is all about.

one last thought - some people pointed out that, looking back, cecelia seemed to be deliberately sabotaging her associates on purpose while attempting to cheer them on? like apparently gabriela breaking her foot before her hand was the wrong choice because breaking her hand first would have dropped her to the floor and given her some range of movement to crawl further away from the radiation. i think i'd have to rewatch it again to see, but if it's on purpose it's a really clever addition.

#saw #if i missed out or misunderstood anything obvious DON'T come for me #i'm a fan just for the traps and amanda

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spaghettaways · 2 years

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mbti self-diary evaluation note thing for patterns and stuff: p.1

(1) i am an introvert. any case against it would be almost mind-boggling considering the fact i don’t do anything or see anyone, like ever. i don’t make plans, i actively avoid people and situations, and i struggle to engage with the outside world of all my immediate surroundings and social activities.

(2) i am always in my head. perhaps it’s my severely consuming maladaptive daydreaming life, but i am never in the here and now. i look for things just so i can then daydream about it. the world is much more interesting and engaging inside my inner world, and introspecting on myself is the window i stare through often, trying to piece together the scenery that i’m met with. it’s not about going out, exploring, touching, sight-seeing everything the world has to offer, but about seeing, touching, and feeling everything that I, myself, has inside.

(3) an extrovert quality, perhaps: i am so alone, at all times, that i ache for the outside world all the same. i don’t feel fulfilled with my precious hobbies and ideas, i want to be more than what i am. i want to discover adventures and meaning, and i want to be where no one else has gone before. i love the feeling of when something changes, when i can finally be excited again. being stuck in my mundane life gets so depressing at times. it isn’t living. the most prominent feeling that stands out to me is excitement - it’s the best feeling i can attach myself too, for it’s the one that gives me inspiration and exuberate hope that i can achieve something finally. if i’m not being mentally stimulated i start to get extremely bored and lonely, and my brain needs something different, it needs to talk, it needs to find something else to throw itself headfirst into.

i can rush through everything. impatient. i might be slow to get there at first, but when i do it’s all or nothing. if i want it, i want it. the thought consumes me. if i’m interested, i can’t help but to spend weeks, even months, just deeply intertwined within it. it consumes me again. then, once i’ve wrung every ounce of energy into my fascination, all my desire gets shriveled up. it’s not something that is unlimited, which might be my introvert self speaking, but i also just get bored so easily. this could be the new day and age, where everything is consumed fast with little retention, but that’s exactly me. my attention span is so horrible that it’s almost a chore to sit through one average video or film. i think about all the things i want to try to learn, boosted with motivation, and the second the actuality of doing it starts i deplete like a draining machine. everything is so hard to remain with.

(4) i don’t know how to plan or be analytical. i free-write everything. i’m a daydreamer stuck inside my head, but not an “intellectual” so-to-speak. i’m actually quite dumb and i’ll stand by that! sitting and forming points, mulling over complicated thoughts... i can’t do it. it’s whatever to me. i’d just end up having to force myself to care, and that’s already just as much hard work to do. of course yeah i want to be well-informed and have good, objective back-up files on my puny brain hard-drive in case i ever need them you know, but i’m a simple type of computer. metaphorically, i just want to click on which site i want to go with no problems and no reason, just swoosh. click. bam. it is as it is. i don’t know how or why about anything that makes sense and i’m good with that. i’m the gullible idiot you find everyone online like well, it makes sense so hey, maybe invisible hamburger burglars are real! and they’re so desperate to try to get into your fridge and that’s why the door was open last night, it’s definitely wasn’t because of me!

something like that.

#mbti diary #self introspection #thoughts #this is just for me #mbti type

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kwritingbooks · 2 years

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jealousy [part II]

concept: you decided the ending fate of you two’s 3 year long relationship. but now that it’s gone, why are you the one who’s sad and harry is perfectly fine? so fine that he’s already in a new relationship three months later?

three years, the prologue // impulse, part I

pairing: ex-boyfriend!harry and fem!reader

warnings: cursing, alcohol mentions, sexual situations, 18+ content in general

word count: 12.2k

author’s note: so i think i've decided to make this a three part series (aka 1 more part after this). i hope you guys like it and lmk what you think <33 forever breaking my own heart writing these angsty concepts lol

read on wattpad here + tumblr masterlist

regret

It wasn't what you planned that night.

Well, it was, but it wasn't.

It was in the way that you found a guy who tagged along by your side to the party. He was there at the perfect moments when Harry was around, and he saw what you intended for him to. You weren't sure what there was to gain from it all now that you were able to look back at it through a sober frame of mind, (even if said sobriety was clouded by a killer hangover).

It wasn't in the way that you were now in that guy's bed, his body outstretched over you. He was passed out and had been passed out all through the night, even through your toss and turns. You even woke up a couple times in the night to throw up, and he didn't budge an inch. You preferred it that way anyway.

So, you just laid there, his hot body enveloping yours. You could feel the sweat against his skin rub off on yours when the fan's wind hit it just right. It made your stomach turn more than it was before, honestly. All that blew through your mind was how desperately you wanted to shower, to rid yourself of the remaining memories from last night.

A lot of the night was fragmented in your brain, not totally lining up as a full story. After the stairs situation with Harry storming off, or what you believed to be storming off, you just remembered taking a couple more shots and it all became blurry from there. You didn't mean to get that drunk; you just did. Honestly, you were kind of grateful you had gotten so black-out that sex wasn't a possibility for either of you.

After those couple of shots, you remembered dancing some more for a while. You thought you may have even made out with a couple other people, but you weren't totally sure. One of them was Noah, and you remembered that because you pictured Lana giving you a big thumbs-up from the side as she cheered you on. You remembered even kissing her for a brief period shortly after, but that wasn't anything new. Once alcohol was introduced to the table, your lips had a mind of their own. It didn't help that heartbreak was mixed into the equation.

Regardless, like you said, you were just glad you didn't actually sleep with anyone. You had yet to sleep with anyone since the breakup actually. You even tried a few times right afterwards. You swore that you were a new woman, ready to take on the world again, free as a bird. You tried Tinder and you even gave Hinge a whirl. Plans would be made, but that was about as far as it got before you either ghosted them or made up some excuse as to why you couldn't make it anymore.

Each person served as a reminder of all the second-guessings of your decision. If anything, it just felt weird not having Harry by your side. It wasn't that you guys were all that close anymore, but it had still been habitual. You were absentmindedly used to having him around, even if you didn't speak to one another. Whether that meant you were working on an art piece in one room while he was in the next room doing his own thing or whatever else.

You didn't realize how used to his presence you had gotten until it was completely taken away, without the option of return. But you made that bed, so you were going to have to lie in it. Except your version of "lying in it" wasn't exactly the healthiest of ways. It was like you enjoyed tormenting yourself by scrolling through his feed, venturing through his life from the sidelines. Except these sidelines had a one-way mirror through it, and he had no idea you were on the other side.

It was sad in every sense: depressing and pitiful.

But last night.

That was probably the worst of your decisions in terms of pitifulness. Embarrassment replaced the buzz of alcohol that slowly began to dwindle throughout the night. You needed to let go of him. The crazy thing was you thought you did let go of him. Wasn't that the whole point of breaking up? The breaking up that you decided.

You groaned out loud as your hands dragged over your face. You didn't even care if your noises were to wake up the sleeping body next to you. You had way more important things to worry about, one being your phone that you had yet to look over because you had been too scared to. The fragments of the night could probably be pieced together with what was inside the device beside you. The light of its screen was bright to your side as another notification popped up, and you closed your eyes, afraid to even take a peek.

Your eyelids felt heavy, still desperate for sleep. The pounding ache in your head was too loud against your skull for you to get any extra sleep for a while anyway. All this meant was you needed to get home as quick as you could, if not just to get out of your Tinder date's house, but to also drown your system with pain medicine.

You slid the phone in your hand, careful not to catch any glimpses of your notifications just yet. You attempted to slip it inside your pocket until you realized you were still in your green, silk dress that you had been in all night. Another groan growled out from you as you tossed it to the side, ending in a loud thunk against the carpeted ground.

With the tips of your fingers, you gently lifted his arm off your torso and placed it to his side. You mentally crossed your fingers that he wouldn't wake up now; getting caught escaping was not a conversation you wanted to have. He would ask questions you didn't feel like answering. You would forever kick yourself in the foot knowing that you put yourself into this predicament by staying overnight with him. This was your fault, like it always was.

He stirred only slightly as he adjusted himself on his side, facing away from you. A breath of relief fell from your lips, thanking whatever higher power was up there watching after you. You even took a few precautionary moments just to make sure he hadn't accidentally woken up before you so much as touched the covers to unwrap yourself.

As you sat up on the edge of the bed, the pounding in your head worsened. An almost audible wince sounded out from you, raising a hand to rub against your temple. Your eyes squinted as they searched around the room through the soaring pain you felt inside.

Shit, what did I even come here with? You wondered to yourself as you looked around.

You remembered your phone, keys, and wallet. They were the only important things you would carry in your purse when you knew you would be drinking. It was the safest way, and you always made sure to take out all cash or other valuable items that weren't absolutely necessary beforehand. You heard all the horror stories already from friends and even strangers.

Maybe sometimes you did listen to others.

Your bare feet felt rough against the carpeted ground, the frays of fabric brushing against your skin. You couldn't tell if you were soothed by the feeling or repulsed. Maybe both? You closed your eyes for a moment anyway as you soaked in the feeling. Even through the aching that poured through your body, it all reminded you of how you were human.

A human that was known for making big mistakes it seemed.

Your phone buzzed again, lighting up from the ground. You hurriedly grabbed it as you threw it into your purse that laid open by the door. If you weren't so uncomfortable from the hangover, you might have laughed as you envisioned the possibilities. You figured that you stumbled through the door, potentially tripping over your own feet. Maybe you even made the mistake of keeping your heels on. From the looks of how they were scattered from one side of the room to the other, it was definitely a likely possibility. You probably threw yourself messily into the room, throwing your shit off the second you stepped through the door.

Even your mascara smudged against his pillow, letting you know that you hadn't even bothered to remove any of the makeup remnants off your face. You cursed at yourself, knowing you also packed makeup wipes for that specific purpose as well.

Drunk you could not be trusted in any sense.

None of it mattered though, you just wanted to leave as soon as you could. The truth to stumbling into his room didn't matter. You hoped you wouldn't ever end up hearing it anyway, knowing that would mean you would have to engage with the random Tinder guy again. Hopefully he would be smart enough to ghost you in the same way you planned to ghost him. It hurt less that way.

Some memories of last night weren't as easy to forget, unfortunately. Each served as yet another painful reminder that you were incapable of controlling yourself sometimes. The realization pained you. You hated that you were so strongly guided by your emotions. The effects never seemed to matter if it felt good enough in the moment. You always had to pick up the pieces or feel the repercussion afterwards. You never truly got used to it.

But, how could you get used to it? Knowing you weren't strong enough to hold yourself back. Knowing you weren't truly in control of your actions, at least in the way you needed to be. Why did it feel so impossible to let him go? Let anything go?

The pain in your head only seemed to grow as your mind began to race. You hadn't even realized you stood in the same spot this whole time, yet to pick up any of your belongings. A hand ran up to your face, rubbing circles. The slight irritation to your eyes woke you up enough to focus on the task at hand.

Getting your stuff and getting the fuck out.

You could've called an Uber, absolutely, but the fresh air felt nice against your skin. It was refreshing in a way. You didn't normally wake up this early in normal circumstances. The sun had just begun to rise, the sky's colors lending the view of pinks, oranges, and a light blue mixing together. There was even a chill to the air, each gust of wind sending goosebumps down your spine. The lack of shoes on your feet didn't help the frigidness as they walked along the cold, dewy sidewalk.

The straps of your heels loosely swayed between your fingertips, every now and then clacking together. If all else failed last night, you could at least say you didn't lose your shoes. It wasn't much, but it was something.

There were only a few passersby, mostly early morning joggers. They were too busy with their run to even give you a second glance. Although, even if they did, you wouldn't have noticed. Between the frost of the morning air and being in your own dream-like state, you weren't all that aware of your surroundings regardless.

You soon ditched the idea that you were going to walk home the entire way. It sounded like a decent idea at first, but reality sunk in about five minutes in. The last thing your hungover body wanted to do was move. Sleeping in your bed for the rest of the day was the only cure for this. It wasn't a far drive, so the bus would do well enough. As long as you got home as quick as you could, that was all you cared about.

You felt the same buzz of your phone that you had been ignoring all morning. Each new notification sent a fresh wave of irritation through you. You could have silenced your phone, but you knew you wouldn't have been able to stop yourself from reading your screen before you were ready.

It wasn't that you were any more ready than you were earlier, but you knew the issue would only grow bigger as you let the notifications pile up. So, begrudgingly, you ruffled through your bag with a huff. It took some mindless digging before you recognized the familiar feeling of metal in your palm. You brushed the stray curls that frizzed out in front of your face, slightly obstructing your vision.

With as much mental preparation as you could manage, you clicked the home button. As you suspected, there was quite an array of different notifications. Lana seemed to be the main culprit for the influx of buzzes you had strayed so far away from.

Lana: [2:21 AM] Where dyd u go ?/??? i miss uuuu

Lana: [2:59 AM] Dude harry looks pissssed. i think i heard his gf yelling at him hahaha dud u do somethign ?/

Lana: [3:48 AM] Okkkk u better be home safe and sound rn. Call u in the morning, hope ur ok

Lana: [6:37 AM] Ur ass better wake up soon to tell me ur alive or I'm beating ur ass in hell

You couldn't help but giggle at the last message. You knew she had to still be slightly drunk as she typed it out, making it all that more endearing.

Did she ever sleep? Knowing her, she probably hadn't. She had a bad habit of that when she drank too much, and honestly she knew you too well to know that you also woke up early after drinking. It was annoying every time, but there was no use in fighting it at that point. But you couldn't help but find her decreasingly drunken texts a bit sweet.

You still continued to chuckle at the messages anyway, grateful that she was at least concerned about your wellbeing. You didn't have the heart to tell her the entire truth of how the story unfolded and why. You were sure she would probably eventually find out, but hopefully way later down the road when it would be funny. When you could talk about you and Harry's relationship without being filled with regret and jealousy. When you could talk about it without it making your stomach turn at the thought of his new girlfriend.

There were a few other messages from different apps, but you ignored all of them. Luckily it looked like Noah had yet to wake up, although you couldn't quite remember if you two exchanged numbers or not. You figured you did, but your brain was having a hard time distinguishing reality from fiction. The last thing you wanted to do was assume anything did or didn't happen unless you knew for sure.

Not that Lana would have much more of a sobering perception, but it was all you had.

Y/N: heyyyy i'm alive. kinda lol. do u wanna get some food later? i just need to drop by the apartment real quick to freshen up and drown my headache with some advil first 😬🔫

You closed your phone, peering back up to the view ahead of you. The bus stop was nearing and relief washed over. There was only one other person waiting on the bench when you walked up, and you decided on standing on the outside, trying to have as minimal of conversation and contact as you possibly could—at least in the state you were in now.

Buzz, buzz.

The vibrations took you off guard for a moment, forgetting you had texted Lana to begin with.

Lana: Ooooo!! Didn't make it home last night? Sounds spicy 👀 I'll call you later

Y/N: ha. yeah sounds good

You knew you should have kept the part about needing to freshen up at the apartment to yourself. It wasn't that you wanted to hide it from her, you just really didn't want to talk about it—or him. You didn't want to pretend like you were actually interested or that you slept with him. You never lied to her, so you were just worried she would start asking questions you weren't in the mood to answer right then.

Really though, what were you doing? You had no idea. You thought it was maybe the alcohol causing all of that turmoil that happened last night, but you were still going through the same thing just with less confidence right now. The imagery that you did remember wasn't what you actually wanted to remember. Flashes of Harry touching along her skin, laughing at her jokes, allowing her to feel along his body as she talked to him—it all was a nightmarish loop that refused to let up.

Yet, one of Lana's texts confused it all even more. I think I heard his girlfriend yelling at him? Half your mind considered the possibility that maybe Lana's drunken state had mixed the pair up or she totally made it up in her head. You wouldn't put it past her, just like you wouldn't put it past yourself at the same time.

But what if it was true? What could they have been arguing about? Did you actually do something to upset her?

From the look of them on the stairs, she didn't look twice in your direction. You were the farthest thing from a threat in her eyes, completely unaware of the previous three years you had shared with her current boyfriend. Was there a reason she didn't know about you? Or were you just getting your hopes up?

Even though you wanted a specific answer to these questions, you could take a good stab at the reality of them. If he wanted you back, he would have called you or texted you or something. But, alas, your phone had yet to have his name pop onto your screen. He didn't care, it was as simple as that.

You wondered if you held any importance at all to him any more. Not that you would ever ask the question aloud.

You were too afraid to know the truth.

The dreaded staircase awaited your ascent. Although this time it was dreadful in a much less playful manner. Beforehand, you were worried of slipping out of your heels through your slightly drunken state, but now this staircase would leave you to the apartment that served as even more reminders of last night. You knew you left clothes sprawled along your bed from changing in and out of a variety of items, unsure which would be the best option for the night. You remembered your exact thoughts being, which would Harry like most?

Pathetic is what it was and you hated that. So much. You hated it even more because you knew you probably wouldn't learn from this circumstance. You couldn't help the way you were feeling, no matter how much of a clusterfuck the emotions itself were. Hell, you couldn't even pinpoint what those feelings entailed completely. It was a clusterfuck after all.

The keys jingled in your hand as you fumbled with the lock, as if you forgot which key belonged to your own apartment. They all looked the same; you weren't sure how you normally found this so easily. Eventually, the click you were begging for happened. The woe-is-me state seemed to glide off of you so effortlessly as you took your first step inside.

The lavender vanilla scent immediately enwrapped itself around you, reassuring you that you were definitely home now. Everything looked how you normally left it in the living room, untouched by last night's escapade. You knew your bedroom carried a different story, so you were going to stick to what brought you comfort for now. That meant rummaging for your life-preserving Advil and Zofran to rid yourself of this God awful hangover you had going on.

"Goddammit! Where are you?" You mumbled to yourself as you scoured the medicine cabinet of pill bottles. Somehow you seemed to have a pill for anything besides what you were looking for. If you had trouble sleeping, restless legs, allergic reaction, or even a fucking UTI you would've been set. Easily.

"Aha! You little shit," you spoke as if to insult the hidden pain killer.

You dipped your head under the sink, letting the water pool directly into your mouth. Tap water was reserved for absolute desperate measures, and this constituted as one of those times. You didn't even realize how thirsty you were until the water hit. You took more sips as if your life depended on it. You didn't care that it had a slight metallic taste to it. It was probably the most nutritious thing you had put in your body in the past twelve hours.

With the back of your hand, you swiped across your mouth as a drop of water fell from your lips. Your stomach grumbled slightly as the new contents not involving alcohol became introduced to your system. It prompted a reminder that you needed to take your precautionary Zofran, already feeling the hungover rumbles bubble in your stomach.

The familiar taste of the dissolvable tablet melted away on your tongue as you slugged yourself back into the living room. You considered throwing yourself onto the couch, but the harsh movements probably wouldn't have been a good idea. So, very carefully, you laid your body out onto the sofa. The exhaustion was getting more unbearable by the second and before you knew it, your eyes had closed with little snores echoing from your mouth.

Never had it felt so good to be in your own house, no matter how shit you physically felt. No more lying to yourself, pretending you wanted to be at some guy-you-just-met's house. Play a small game of boring small talk or just getting drunk enough to where it was more tolerable. Just home. Just you.

Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz.

The rhythmic vibrations abruptly rang against your cheek as you laid on top of it. You weren't sure how you ended up in that position, but you regretted it once you realized the repercussions.

You groaned as you unstuck your phone from your face. You had to squint your eyes against the screen as they weren't fully adjusted from your nap just yet. The lighting through the curtains had also lowered significantly, telling you you must had been asleep for longer than you thought. Your body definitely needed it. Even just with the nap, there was a difference in how you felt. Still had a headache, though.

Lana's face lit up on your screen once more of the nap grogginess had evaded. You grew a little nervous, not really knowing what she was calling about. You were half worried you missed something important while you were asleep and you had no idea if you were about to be bombarded once you answered. Not answering would've had worse consequences, so you swiped to accept the call.

"Hey," you rasped out in your halfway sleepy voice. You clicked on the lamp beside you, a warm yellow glow now surrounding you in the room.

"Well would ya look who's awoken from the dead?" Her voice boomed out through the speakers. You weren't sure how she was so chipper considering she was drunk last night, too, but that was Lana. She seemed to defy the laws of alcohol physics. Or whatever.

"The hell happen last night? You gonna fill me in?" She whined jokingly.

You smiled as you pictured her face while she said it. She probably had her bottom lip puckered out with her eyes ogling up towards you. You were always a sucker for that look and she knew it.

"Hey Lana," you repeated, "What's up?" You cleared your throat in order to sound a little more comprehensible.

"What's up?" She mocked, "Exactly! What's up? Tell me everything! What was his name...Noah! Right?"

You closed your eyes for a moment as you recollected yourself. Like you said: last thing you wanted to talk about.

"It's nothing," you huffed out. You scratched your head as you took in a deep breath, trying to figure out what you could say that would be satisfying enough for her. "Just slept over, nothing special. He's kind of...weird?"

Your tone had shifted higher. He wasn't actually weird and you doubted Lana believed he was either, but they hardly had any conversation so maybe she would take your word on it anyway. Hopefully.

"Weird?" She asked. There was hesitation in her voice. You didn't think she fully believed you, and you didn't blame her.

"I guess, I dunno. Just not into him." That at least wasn't a lie. You weren't into him, you never really were. He was attractive, sure, but that was about as far as that went.

"Oh."

She sounded disappointed, like she was upset that you didn't find someone you liked. Disappointed like you were the one turning her down. You figured she just wanted you to find someone after the Harry situation, because it would prove to her that you were good and moved on. Little did she realize how far from the truth that was.

"Yeah," you said slightly awkward.

There were a few more moments of mutual silence, both pondering what to say next to fill the air.

"Not because of Harry, is it?" She questioned. Her words had grown softer, like she knew she was treading dangerously on thin ice. She was though, because it about knocked you over when she said it.

"No," you said sharply, "Listen, how about we just get lunch or something tomorrow and we can talk then?"

Really, you had no issues talking now, but if you had some time you could prepare yourself a little more. Maybe you wouldn't feel so taken aback if she started asking about Harry again.

Hopefully.

You stared blankly at your plate sat in front of you. A waft of your burger blew through your nose as you ogled the uneaten food.

"You not gonna eat?" Lana asked on the other side of the booth.

You gazed back up to her as she piled a few fries into her mouth, her eyebrows raised in concern. She continued to look at you as she blindly dipped another pair of fries into ketchup, raising them up to her mouth. You shook your head to break you out of your dazed state, slightly laughing.

"Yeah," you laughed out again, "I guess I ate more for breakfast than I thought."

That was technically a lie. All you had was a cup of coffee on an empty stomach. It was all you could stomach, but the caffeine was giving you the anxiety jitters. It was hard enough to just sit still in your seat.

"Mm," she hummed out in acknowledgment. She didn't look to question your explanation which sent a wave of relief.

You picked up a singular fry, trying to hide the caffeine shakes of your hands as you lifted it up to your lips. The salty taste was better than you expected; the greasiness just enough to spark you back to life (a little).

Lana looked satisfied as she saw you take a bite of the burger. She kept her eyes down, though, knowing you hated people watching you eat. You thanked her mentally for that.

"So," she said in between bites, "What's on Y/N's brain?" She peeked up at you as she waited for a response.

You twitched in your seat, suddenly more uncomfortable than you were a minute ago. What was on your brain? You honestly were having a hard time figuring it out yourself. You had a gist of what you were upset about—at least kind of—but, why?

It was so hard not being able to talk to her about it. Although, you knew this was mostly an issue you curated in your head by yourself. She would have been more than happy to hear about what was brewing in your head, but that small voice in the back of your mind was filled with paranoia. Saying it all out loud just made it too real, too. You weren't ready to wholly admit how you felt about everything. Keeping things inside kept things safe.

It wasn't like it was going to magically change anything anyway.

"Uh, I mean—," You shrugged your shoulders, "Think I just went a little too hard the other night." You awkwardly laughed. Even Lana had to know that was a bit of an understatement.

She hummed in thought again, amused by what you said.

"Could it have to do with a certain someone?" She drew her words out, already knowing the answer to her question. It slightly annoyed you knowing that you couldn't hide everything you wanted to. She really did know you too well.

You shrugged again as you picked at your fries. The seasoning from them stuck to the pads of your fingers and you mindlessly rubbed them between your fingertips, not really focusing on anything else around you. Even your vision had blurred along with everything else.

"I think they were fighting about you," she said.

Your eyes immediately flashed to her, the dust of the fries still lingering on your fingers. You blinked hard, not totally sure if you registered her words correctly.

"Me?"

You wiped your hands on the napkin beside you as you leaned in closer to her. She continued to finish her plate and took a sip of her drink before she spoke again. The delay was giving you even more anxiety.

She shrugged, "I only heard bits and pieces. But I swear I heard your name. I think one of our friends mentioned you to him, not realizing..." She trailed off, not wanting to finish the words.

You didn't know what to feel, truthfully. It was an odd array of emotions buzzing through your system and you had even less of a desire to eat now. You needed to play it cool and not excited over the news. Not that you were excited—well, okay, maybe you were a little. You didn't know. Or maybe you did.

Fuck, whatever.

Ding!

You looked over to Lana, expecting that to be her phone but she met you with a confused glance. You scrunched your eyebrows and padded your pockets for your own phone. You could've sworn you turned your phone on mute, but the notification glaring back at you told you different.

Harry: We need to talk.

Immediately, your heart rate skyrocketed and your palms got sweaty. The twitchy feeling in your fingers only grew stronger as you tried to formulate a response.

Did you do something that you didn't realize? Say something you didn't mean? And why did he wait so long to send this if this was about the party?

"Who is it?" Lana asked, wiping her mouth on a napkin before throwing it onto her finished plate.

"Oh, uh, it's my mom. I think?" You nervously laughed. Another lie. God, you were really starting to piss yourself off at this point.

"You think?" She crossed her arms across her chest as she peered at you. You bit at your lip and laughed again in attempt to wash off some of your nerves.

"Yeah. Phone's been acting weird with contacts," You lied again.

She hadn't stopped looking at you with the same look as before as you typed away on your phone.

Y/N: right now?

You quickly placed your phone facedown on the table, scared to see a reply back. You looked around the restaurant, watching people as they ate their own meals with their loved ones at different tables. Hell, you were doing anything to beat the gaze that was on you right across the table.

She let out a sigh, softening her eyes. You figured she knew it was a losing battle and that you didn't want to talk about it right then. You would tell her about it eventually, just not right now. Not until you got everything figured out.

Ding!

"Shit," you mumbled out. You had been so surprised by Harry texting you, you had still forgotten to turn your sound back off. Lana briefly raised another eyebrow at your phone, but let it go. She grabbed her phone out of her pocket, busying herself with one of her messages you assumed.

Harry: Tomorrow.

You audibly groaned at your phone. You would have much rather have ripped it off like a band-aid, but now you were about to have an excess of anxiety for at least the next 24 hours. Fantastic.

"You good?" Lana asked, placing her phone back into her pocket.

You nodded your head with a soft smile, "Yeah I'm good. I think I'm gonna head out, though, okay?"

She smiled back, but it had a look mixed with worry in it. Her hand reached out, resting gently on your forearm. Her eyes flickered up to you as she searched between both of yours—looking for some kind of unspoken answer.

"You know you can talk to me, right?" Her words gripped tightly across your heart. You couldn't help but to feel guilty over everything.

Guilty for tagging along some guy to make someone else jealous. Guilty for making the initial decision and regretting it. Guilty you felt like you couldn't talk to your best friend about it. Guilty for it all.

You couldn't help but smile at her with admiration in your eyes regardless. You sat up from your spot, digging out enough money out of your purse for both of you two's meals before leaning down to embrace her.

"I know," you said as you held on tightly to her. You kissed her on the head as you let go, "I'm okay, okay?"

She nodded her head, but you knew she still didn't believe you.

The morning of, you spent a lot of time sitting in bed, staring at the ceiling. After living there for over two years, and alone for three months of that, you had just realized how there were so many dots of texture sprinkled above you. At one point you even started to count them, but stopped after you realized how impossible it was.

Time only continued to tick, not waiting for you to come to terms with what today was going to entail. You had hardly gotten any sleep last night because of it. About every few hours, you would wake back up with bouts of anxiety. The anxiety was probably due to the fact that even in your dreams, you couldn't catch a break. You would dream different scenarios of meeting up with Harry. Some were better than others, but they all sent you feeling so empty when you would wake up, because you would remember that you had yet to experience it. Yet to know what would actually happen today, good or bad.

God did you hope for something good, but God did you know the likelihood of that actually happening. But, there was only way to find out, so that involved actually getting out of bed and getting ready.

Unfortunately.

It almost felt like that night of the party all over again, by the way you practically tried on every outfit you owned. Everything seemed to look like you either tried too hard or you didn't try hard enough. Regardless of what you decided on, it would've been you trying too hard—but, the point was for him not to know that.

You slipped on a pair of your black and white plaid pants that fit snug around your waist. It was tight in just the right places, while loose where it needed to be as well. Your legs were just barely long enough to have them flare out right above your ankles, and your black Docs helped create just the little extra height you needed.

A simple black crop top that buttoned all the way down matched perfectly with it. You clasped all the silver buttons in its rightful spot, besides leaving the top one undone. You decided on no jewelry except the silver necklace you always wore, in fear anything extra would have been too much.

You still wanted to feel like you, but it was so hard. Because the truth was, you hadn't felt like yourself in so long. That feeling had lingered longer than the three months since your breakup, it was beyond that. You weren't even sure when exactly it started. All you knew was you woke up one day feeling like a hollowed-out version of yourself, always fighting to gain yourself back afterwards. It never fully worked, at least not for long.

Each day was a battle for different reasons. While it didn't start because of your breakup, it sure didn't make anything better either.

You glanced over at your phone to check what time it was. The numbers on the top of the screen felt like a relief knowing you still had a couple of hours to either 1) continue obsessing over your appearance, 2) continue obsessing over the possibilities, or 3) a mixture of both. It was slowly starting to look like your choice was going to be the latter every time you stole a glance in the mirror.

You knew if you looked any longer, you would start to pick apart everything wrong with how you looked, so you had to leave the room. Your phone was gripped tightly in your palm as you tried to hide the shakiness from yourself. It was like you didn't want to come to terms with how nervous you were—scared, even.

You both agreed on meeting at the coffee shop across town. It was actually the place you both went to for your first date. You frequented it often when you were in school, it being one of your favorite study spots. The music choices were always top tier, and their coffee was some of the best you ever had. Even after you graduated you couldn't help but to still stop by every now and then. And when Harry told you that he had yet to try it, it was a perfect opportunity to share your love for it.

You hadn't been back since you guys broke up. You didn't consider the possibility that you would forever associate your favorite coffee shop with a person you once cared so deeply for. It felt tarnished now, frozen in time. It was as if the moment you stepped any where near it, it would break into a million pieces. It felt too fragile, and you were afraid to worsen it.

Your first instinct was that it could create a sense of closure that you craved deep down. No matter how it ended, maybe it could solidify something inside you that you refused to do yourself. But, as the time grew closer and closer, that bold feeling started to fade alongside any confidence you clung to.

It was now about 30 minutes until you had to leave, and you found yourself pacing back and forth in your hallway. The picture frames that hung along the walls had to have grown tired of seeing you walk by again and again. If you had to witness the same nervous figure drag themselves through the hallway in the matter that you were, you would have grown sick of it, too. You had yet to look up from the carpet as your feet mindlessly moved in front of you. You were desperate to focus on something other than the time moving uncomfortably fast.

Yet, somehow, time moved so slowly at the same time. You would swear it was time to leave, but as you looked back at your phone, only three or four minutes would have passed. It was excruciating. The endless possibilities were numbing your brain, causing your body to vibrate from anxiety.

Makeup could at least cover the undereye circles that had darkened underneath your eyes, but there was nothing makeup could fix about anxiety—the shakes, the sweaty palms, the stumbling over your words. No amount of mascara or concealer could console what you felt inside.

Buzz, buzz

You stopped in your tracks, your phone gripped tightly in your grasp. Quickly, you shot it up to your face as to read the message.

Harry: Be there in 15.

"Fuck," you thought aloud.

The idea of being in public while you felt like this was beyond overwhelming. Flashes of the night of the party riddled through your mind of what you did versus what you saw. The fact there were so many fuzzy recollections of the events scared you a little, not knowing if that could be apart of the conversation.

Were you going to get angry? Get upset? How were you supposed to hide those feelings if they were to come up? Feeling emotions showed you still cared. You didn't want him to know that you still cared after this being your fault to begin with.

Without much other thought, you whipped your phone back up in front of you and began typing quickly.

Y/N: actually would it be ok to meet here? i have some stuff of yours

It sent before you could rethink your decision. It wasn't like this was your first time doing something that you could regret later. Might as well have made sure you stayed on brand.

You eyed your couch in front of you, quickly setting out towards it. With a loud whoosh, your body sank into the cushions. It felt nice for a moment, just sitting there, tucked away into the comforts of your living room. The next buzz soon took you out of that small moment of bliss.

Harry: That's fine.

Your heart hammered in your chest harder as you read the words out loud. You hadn't even collected his belongings yet. You weren't sure what you were thinking when you sent that to him, but you knew you needed to look like you had it all together. So, you rushed back into your room towards your closet.

The box laid where it had since the week of your last conversation, only to collect dust, just like your memories. It was the conversation that plagued your existence. You weren't even sure what all was in it, you had been too afraid to look inside since you packed it. When you were packing it away, it felt freeing, but now it just seemed like a reminder of your impulsivity. You wished you could go back to that initial feeling. Is that what life could feel like one day but permanently? You sure hoped so.

The box wasn't physically heavy, yet it still felt like it dragged you down. At any moment, it seemed like it would topple down to your feet for them to stumble over. The gravity around it was like it was working against you holding it. Like you weren't supposed to have it in your hands; like you weren't supposed to be returning it.

Gently, you placed it onto your coffee table. Without taking your eyes off the box, you sat yourself down on to the couch. Your hands knitted together neatly in your lap as one of your legs bounced. Your eyes scanned over the entirety of the box—down to every fray of the cardboard, to the crookedness of the tape along the sides.

The old address label was still halfway stuck onto the box, revealing Harry's name on it. You had forgotten what the originally box carried, but it sent an uncomfortable shiver down your spine seeing his name right above your address. It felt so odd knowing you both shared this home together, but now this was your reality. Alone.

Knock, knock

Your head darted to the door where the sounds originated. You glanced down at your phone, scanning for any notification warning you of his arrival. All you saw was your home screen which was a picture of you and Lana, beaming and slightly drunk.

You clicked the screen back off and slid it into your pocket with shaky fingers. Your hands slid along your body, ridding yourself of the nonexistent wrinkles that may have existed on your pants. With a deep breath, you walked towards the door.

You didn't bother looking through the peephole; you knew who would be standing on the other side. You also knew if you saw him standing there, you might start second guessing your decision and not open the door at all. So, it was time to rip things off like a band-aid again.

You fiddled with the locks, breathing steadily as to get your nerves settled. With a simple twist of the door knob, its cold brass shocking against the touch, it swung open.

There he was, as if nothing had changed. He had a faint smile across his lips with his hands in his pockets. You could still see the small outline of the rings on his fingers through the jean material, and you almost sighed at the realization. His sunglasses were pushed at the top of his head, brushing his messy curls out of his eyes.

Seeing him stand there was surreal. You hadn't been this close in proximity since the breakup—at least not when you two were sober and not purely on accident at a party. This felt so much more vulnerable, because you both chose this to happen.

"Hey," he said, breaking your trance.

You blinked hard, chuckling from slight embarrassment.

"Hey, come in." You moved your body out of the doorway as to welcome him in. As you walked into the living room, you couldn't help but to fidget your fingers while making your way to the sofa. You heard the door shut behind him, followed by his footsteps nearing closer.

Your stomach twisted in knots, suddenly feeling sick to your stomach. The silence, besides his steps, were almost too much to handle. There was nothing else to busy your mind with, and you hated the fact you didn't think to turn on some form of background noise to break up the awkwardness. It would be too weird if you decided to put it on now.

The same whoosh noise sounded out as you sat your body onto the same couch you had already become so acquainted to today. You glanced over your shoulder to watch him walk in the same direction. His eyes ventured all around him, careful not to meet yours. It was as if he was surveying his old home—the home you two used to share with so much love until there was nothing left.

"Do you want any water or anything?" You nervously butted in. It also served as a way to prolong the inevitable conversation that you were the least bit excited for. It was hard enough watching him sit back on the couch you both used to cuddle up on together. Now you were miles apart it seemed; even farther than towards the end of your relationship when you would practically ignore one another while sat on those very cushions.

His attention was focused on glancing around the room. You weren't sure if that was his way of avoiding eye contact or if he was genuinely as interested with his surroundings as he looked.

"Uh, nah, I'm okay..." He trailed off.

His fingers ran along the edge of the picture frame that housed a photo of your mom and you when you were younger. It always held a special spot in your heart and Harry knew that. He heard the stories behind the photos more times than you could probably count. You wondered if he was remembering the little details sprinkled throughout the house as he walked back through it like you did.

"Not much has changed, has it?" He lightly laughed, retracting his hand back to his side. He moved towards the other couch, sitting down.

"It's not like it's been that long," you replied bluntly. Your tone remained soft, easily mistaken as hurt. Although, it wasn't that far off. You were hurt, but not because of him. None of this was his fault. It was yours.

He hummed and cleared his throat. "Yeah, guess not."

You bit at the inside of your cheek a little too hard, a faint metallic taste resting on your tongue. You took that as a sign to rest your jaw and other tensions that built up in your body. The tapping of your foot seemed to settle more because of it.

"So, uh, what's up?" You asked. You tried hard to sound innocent, like you had no idea why he needed to speak to you.

His elbows were rested on his knees with his hands clasped together. He fiddled with his rings, spinning them around his fingers. His eyes peered up at you through his eyelashes in a look of stop-acting-dumb.

But, you wanted him to say it. You didn't want to mention anything and be off, outing yourself about something he didn't even notice or care about. Your silence was answer enough for him in order to continue.

"You know what I'm talking about, Y/N," he replied curtly.

Your cheek immediately went back in between your teeth, biting at the raw skin.

"Okay, well, what about it?" You looked up at him as you fought to keep his eye contact, but it was so hard.

It was hard to look him in his dark emerald eyes, full of so many memories behind them. You had seen those eyes full of every emotion possible: angry, sad, happy, full of lust even. It was hard looking for too long without forming tears of your own.

He blew a sharp breath out of his mouth as his eyes went back to his rings. You watched him twirl them around, his "H" ring catching your attention the quickest. A flash of one of the items inside your box ran through your mind, and it felt like a stake to the heart.

His "S" ring.

The ring he gave you on your second year anniversary. It was such a precious moment that you carried with you even now. He wore his initial rings every day that you could remember and he was also meticulous of making sure they stayed in good shape. So, when he surprised you with giving you his last name initialed ring, it was the most special gift he could've given you.

"As a reminder that you'll one day have my last name."

The past words echoed in every corner of your brain and you squeezed your eyes shut for a moment, overwhelmed by it. You believed it whole-heartedly. You were going to have his last name one day. Y/N Styles. It even sounded like it was meant to be together.

That was what you thought, though. You used to wear it with him, interlocking each of your fingers in public, your matching rings clinking together. It had become a comfort, like you always had a small piece of him with you no matter where you went. Even during the shitty times in your relationship, you would find yourself still reaching for it to wear sometimes. Harry would never question it, or ask why you still wore it. If anything, it seemed like those rings were what was holding you two together— trying to fit yourselves into what you two used to be. But, you could only lie to yourself and to Harry for so long.

You reached for the cardboard box and hesitated for a moment. It hurt knowing that every last piece of him was about to be gone. Even if you never checked on it before, or even touched it before, it was still some reassurance that you had pieces of him tucked away. But, soon, there would be nothing.

"I, uh... Here's your stuff," you said as you placed the box in your lap.

He looked over at you and back down to what you were holding. It was still closed and you were still scared to open it.

You extended your arms out in his direction with the box. He looked like he was unsure of what to do next too, but then reached out for it. He eyed it suspiciously with a hint of nervousness. You watched his fingers trail along the cardboard, hearing his rings ever so slightly brush against the material.

"What's in it?" He asked, stopping himself right at the tape.

You bit at your lips and shrugged, "Not really sure anymore. I haven't wanted to look in it." You could feel his eyes on you as you spoke, but you refused to look back. They only stayed planted on the contents in his lap instead.

"Why?"

You breathed out deeply with another shrug, "Haven't needed to, I guess."

Out of the corners of your eyes, you could tell he wanted to push further. Or maybe he didn't and that was just what you wanted to think. It didn't matter, because he went straight back to peeling away the tape.

The top sprung open, like it had waited for this moment all its life. You could only make out fragments of what was inside, but you didn't dare lean over to get a full view. His eyes just continued to scan over the objects inside, and he looked shocked— like he didn't know he was missing all of these things.

His hand dove in, bringing up a silver cross necklace. Your heart immediately dropped once you saw it. It was another thing that you so vividly remembered him wearing on a day-to-day basis during your first year of dating. One day you were supposed to travel out of state for work and your nerves were getting the best of you. Harry noticed it and offered to let you wear his favorite necklace as a reminder that he would be there always. It helped, was the funny thing. When he saw how you continued to wear it after you got back, he didn't bother to ask for it to be returned. He would just smile when he saw it around your neck, grateful that you were happy. Grateful that he could make you feel safe with something so small.

The chain dangled around his fingers as he looked at it swing back and forth. You tried to gauge his reaction, to see what feeling was behind the eyes staring back at it, but you couldn't read anything. He swiftly put it back inside, distracted by something else that was in there.

"I'm sorry," you blurted out. The second it left your lips, you regretted it. You regretted it even more when you saw his face contort into confusion, along with a sign of annoyance.

"Why?" His hands rested against the box as he set it aside. "Wasn't this what you wanted?"

Your nose started to sting from an onset of tears that wanted to form. You bit harshly at the corner of your cheeks, desperate to distract yourself. Nothing sounded like the right way to respond to that. You didn't want to be honest, but you also didn't want to lie.

"It was."

"Was? Or is?"

You blinked hard and directed your gaze back down to your nails. Your stomach had yet to loosen of its knots and the anxiety wasn't helping the nausea that twisted inside with it. You didn't want to be there anymore. You hated the vulnerability.

"I don't know," you said so faintly. If it wasn't as silent as it was inside the house, he wouldn't have even heard of it.

"You don't know," he restated with a scoff. His fingers tapped against the box as he thought deeply about something. What you would do to be able to get just a peek inside his thoughts.

You didn't reply, though, you only continued picking at your nails. The raw feeling from pulling at your hangnails mimicked the raw feeling you felt in the pit of your stomach.

You heard rattling inside the box, but kept your head down. You no longer wanted to see what else was in there. It only hollowed out the pit in your chest further and you were afraid if it sunk any deeper, you would get lost. You weren't sure if he'd be willing to pull you out this time. You wouldn't blame him if he didn't. You didn't want to dig yourself out at this point either.

"I forgot about some of this stuff," he said softly. It seemed more like he was talking to himself, not expecting you to be apart of the audience. Your feet were tucked underneath you as you cornered yourself into the couch, reaching over to hold one of the throw pillows to your chest as you tried to watch him.

"Me, too."

Your comment appeared to shock him slightly, as if he forgot where he was for a moment. As if it was any other day, in his old home, but reality was reminded to him like it was for you everyday.

He sighed as he pulled his "S" ring out and onto his finger, examining his matching jewelry beside it. He ogled it so closely, almost like he couldn't believe that they were side-by-side again after all this time.

The knot in your stomach tightened at the thought that that same ring could be passed down to his new girlfriend. You knew that they hadn't been dating long, but the fact that ring could be on someone else's finger struck you with a gut-wrenching feeling. It was always supposed to be yours, but now none of it was because you were no longer his.

"Why did you act that way at the party?" He asked, breaking the silence.

Your feet shifted underneath you out of habit. The frayed fabric on the sides of the pillow suddenly became one of the most interesting things in the world as you played with them between your fingers. You never even noticed how there were silver strands mixed in with the pink. Weird.

"Y/N?" He asked softer that time.

Your eyes ventured up to meet his. You fought the urge to just shrug your shoulders and move on from the topic, but you also knew you probably would never have this chance again. You shouldn't take it for granted like you had taken so many others things for granted with him.

"With that guy?" You asked, waiting for his response.

"Or whoever it was. Just didn't seem like you," he paused to look down.

The carpet beneath you looked so worn from the countless steps it had been through. The fabric that was once fluffed up was now tattered by wear, pressed down from the constant impact. So many lives had that carpet seen. So many happy moments, but also yelling battles between the two of you. You made a mental note that you would replace it. It needed a fresh start, just like you did. That was about as close to one you were going to get any time soon anyway.

"Didn't seem like you to find someone new that quick either," you mustered out. You hadn't stopped scanning over the designs of the rug as you said it. You only had enough confidence to either look him in the eyes or to say what you wanted to say, so that was what you chose.

"Y/N," he stated. His voice sounded exasperated, like he was tired of the conversation already.

"Hm?" you hummed out. To be quite honest, it felt good to finally say it out loud. You hadn't said anything close to that to anyone. It all just stayed locked away in your thoughts. You were glad to not only get it out, but get it out for Harry to hear.

"I don't know what you want from me," his eyes bored into the side of your head, "What do you want?"

But what did you want? Did you even know the answer to that? Did you want him back? Did you want him gone? You knew you hated whatever these feelings were inside, and you had a good idea of why they were there. Regret was at the forefront of all your feelings about him.

"I just..." You cleared your throat, scared you were going to regret whatever came out next. But, what else was there left to lose? "I don't know. I took you for granted and I'm sorry. I haven't felt like myself in so long and..." Your words trailed off as that same, familiar tingle spread from your nose and to your eyes.

"And what?"

You huffed out a sharp breath, growing irritated at yourself that you couldn't get the words to form how you wanted them. With another deep inhale, you let them glide out naturally.

"And...I don't know! I made a mistake and I'm constantly beating myself up for it. I'll never forgive myself for any of it. And it fucking...rips me apart thinking you could find someone else so quickly! I wanted you to feel a semblance of what I've felt since I found out about her." Your heart was racing, and you were surprised you got it out in one go.

Although, your cheeks burned hotter than they had all night. Your fingers trembled against your leg as the sweat began to collect against your pants. Your leg had moved back to the ground as it quickly bounced up and down. Small twitches ran through your body from the anxiety wrecking through your system. It was all so much at once.

"I don't know what to say," he said. His face had dropped slightly, like he felt guilty himself. It only grew the pit in your stomach. You weren't trying to make him feel guilty, you knew deep down that it was your fault that it came to this.

He tried. You stopped trying. That was the reality.

"You don't have to say anything. I know it's not fair for me to push this all on you, and I'm sorry. And I'm sorry for saying sorry a million times, but I am. I'm sorry." The familiar feeling of embarrassment pricked at the apples of your cheeks as the warmth spread.

"We fought that night," he said in between the silence. It only broke your attention briefly to meet his eyes. "Dominic asked how you were doing with Nadine right beside me. He didn't know."

Nadine. Was that her name? You despised the fact you wanted to scowl the second you heard it. She didn't personally do anything wrong, yet it all felt so personal anyway. From the way she so carelessly touched along his face and arms to the way she so publicly kissed him at the party.

You were thinking crazy, you knew that, but it didn't help how you felt anyway.

"She wanted me to promise that I didn't have feelings for you anymore," he stated bluntly. He aimlessly picked at the objects inside the box in order to not have to look anywhere else.

"And?" You had never been more scared for an answer than this moment. Hope wanted to break through, but you were even more scared to let that happen. Hope could cause the crash to be that much more devastating.

"I said I didn't." He exhaled a deep breath, chewing on the inside of his cheek while you did the same.

His words acted like they stole the rest of the oxygen in the room. Everything around felt like it was expanding but contracting at the same time. You felt closed in on but too open simultaneously. It hurt far worse than you thought it would have.

"Was it true?"

"No."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

Silence.

"Then why did you do it? You didn't have to find someone right after," you countered. The nerves had only slightly began to fade now that you felt less out of control of the situation. You couldn't totally describe exactly what you were feeling, but it was less frantic and clustered. It was a different form of nervousness almost, less anxiety built and more impatience-driven. Why did he wait so long to say these things?

"I thought I was over it. I mean, you were over it. At least that's what it looked like at the party."

You closed your eyes, your head dropping to your shoulders. Your fingers gripped tightly against the pillow that you had yet to get rid of it from the sheer comfort that it brought you. That feeling of regret stormed through again, but stronger than ever. The realization that you hurt him from the breakup was something you were always aware of— it was where your regret stemmed from. You also knew what you were doing at the party, what feelings could have been sparked by your actions— hell, that was why you did it. It all shifted when you fully realized how that could take a toll on someone, but not just someone— Harry.

Harry had never deserved the back and forth from you. Maybe Nadine was exactly what he needed. You mean, after all she was the definition of perfect. She seemed to make him happy, and maybe that was what he was missing all along. It tore you up inside knowing that you hurt him in the ways that you did, even after the fact. Why did you want him to feel that way?

Only evil people had to think and act like that. You were hurt, but that didn't give you the right. Your hurt didn't deserve to hurt the one person who never gave up on you. Yet, you did it anyway. Voluntarily.

No amount of biting inside your cheek or pinching inside your palm could distract you from the emotions that piled up inside you. All you wanted to do was run away to your room and forget any of this ever happened. You felt worse than when you started, honestly.

Even with your eyes squeezed shut, you could feel the threat of a tear rimming along the bottom. It quickly ran down your eye and you caught it just as quick with your finger. Another one fell down just as smoothly to replace it. It splashed against your pants, leaving a darkened dot along the pattern. You watched it as another fell down to match it, broadening the spot.

"Y/N," he said softly, "Please don't cry."

Ironically, it only made you cry harder. Harry had seen you cry more times than you could count in the past, but this one felt like the first time all over again. It was embarrassing. It was uncomfortable. It was unforgiveable by your standards.

This wasn't about you, but you were making it about you.

You shook your hands in front of you, trying to rid the feeling inside your chest. It burned, whatever it was. You wanted to go back to minutes ago where you felt in control of the situation again. When your eyes were dry and the pit inside felt less hollowed out.

"It's fine, I'm okay," you said through sharp inhales. You took some deep breaths in in order to steady your breath a little more.

"Come here," he whispered as he placed the box from his lap onto the ground. His sat up from his spot, now looking down at you from his positioning. You knew the whites of your eyes had to have been rimmed with a slight pink hue; the tears hadn't come to a complete halt yet. Nothing seemed to subdue it the way you needed it to.

You weren't sure if it was good judgment, but you couldn't help but think about how good it would feel to be near him again. To be wrapped in his arms, tight in the way he used to hold you. He used to hold you so tight in times like this, smoothing his hands against your back until your tears had stopped. The shoulder of his shirt would often be dampened by the tears that ran down during the embrace. My, how you craved that feeling again. To be held by him.

The pillow shook slightly as you placed it off to the side. Your legs even mimicked the pillow's movements as they felt like jell-o. Everything felt so wobbly. You made one step forward, but stopped.

"Are you sure?" Your hand reached up to your cheeks, wiping away another droplet that had fallen.

He didn't say anything, but instead moved towards you. His arms outstretched in your direction the same way they used to— as if no time had passed. You welcomed the touch, no longer caring about anything that had happened in the past. Not at the party. Not in the three months since. Not even the shitty parts leading up to the decision. None of it.

Your head rested into his chest like it belonged there. It fit perfectly, like a puzzle piece. The smell of his typical cologne settled gently through your nose. The notes of chamomile hadn't been relaxing since this moment as it always reminded you of him. You even tossed the leftover chamomile tea bags that you had leftover, in fear that it could form any kind of semblance of a memory of him.

Your fingers dug into his back, desperate to be closer. His shirt had to have been getting stretched from your tight grasp, but neither of you seemed to care. He held you just as tight, rubbing those familiar circles along your spine. Tears continued to spill down your cheeks and onto his shirt, but for different reason. These weren't tears of sadness, they were tears of longing that had finally been relieved. You felt relieved.

"I never stopped loving you," you said between tearful breaths.

He loosened his grip, holding your upper arms as to look you in the eyes. Your bottom lip quivered as his eyes searched yours. Back and forth they tracked, looking for something.

His hand trailed up the side of your face, the soft feeling was electrifying enough, but when his lips connected with yours?

Indescribable.

It was desperate, but soft. Hungry, but calculated. Overwhelming, but numbing.

His cold rings brushed against your cheeks as they ran through your strands of hair, scratching subtly at your scalp. As the kiss deepened, you couldn't help but bring your hands up to his face as well. Both sides of his jaw were held tightly by your palms, as you pressed your body into his.

He moaned against your lips, sending a pulsating sensation straight between your thighs. Your hips bucked into him out of pure instinct. The contact of your skin against him had never felt like this before. It sent a feeling of comfort, but anxiety all at the same time. You were desperate for more, in any way you could get it. You didn't care about the repercussions of it. You would deal with that later. All you cared about in the moment was the gradual hardening you felt against your pelvis as you pressed tighter into him.

In one swift movement, he pulled you up, dipping you down to the couch right beside the both of you. A small squeak escaped from your lips from the sudden movement, completely taking you off guard. It didn't last long before you were pulled in just as quickly again, your lips locking together feverishly.

His hard cock pressed firmly into your center as he lightly rocked back and forth. It caused your hips to buck once more into him, causing Harry to break apart, his lips slightly agape as he stared down at you. His eyes were hooded as he looked at you so deeply, taking the state you were in all at once. You felt his dick twitch as he watched you, a small smirk stretching across your lips.

He leaned back in, trailing his hands under your shirt.

"I've missed you," he spoke between heavy breaths.

Your hand trailed through his curls, tugging lightly against them as your head rolled to the side. He planted wet kisses against your neck, resulting in another hungry moan from the back of your throat to ring out. You had never been so hungry for his touch, his breaths against your skin, the tone of his voice when he was ogling your body.

His pink, wet lips shined in the light from a mixture of yours and his spit. They appeared more puckered and swollen from the amount of sucking you had succumbed those beautiful lips to. All of the built up feelings from the past few months were coming to the surface and there was no stopping it. He unlocked something within you that you didn't know was still there. You never wanted to come to terms with it until now.

This moment could have lasted forever if you had any control over it. You wanted it to last forever. You dreaded the thought that it would end at one point. That at some point his lips would disconnect from your skin, his hands off of your torso and back into his pockets, his body leaving your house.

What were you going to do once it was all gone again?

It didn't matter. As long as this wasn't a goodbye, that was all that mattered.

Please don't let this be his goodbye.

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