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#married life from up inspired this so oof
wildemaven · 9 months
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Sweet Creature: Chapter Nine
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Pairing: Dieter Bravo x F!Reader
WC: 8k
Warnings: 18+ Blog; Fluff, a kiss of angst, talk of past relationship and break up, pregnancy scare, mopey Poppy, nervousness and anxiety, brief mentions of sobriety, smut, self doubt, public speaking, reader has the nickname Poppy- zero physical description, to dumb dumbs in love
A/N: This is a doozy of a chapter, there was so much to pack in for these two. I can’t believe we’re nearing the end, I had definite moments of sadness as I was wrapping up this chapter but also found so inspiration to help tie up the story for these two! You can listen to Dieter & Poppy’s Playlist Here. Also a big thank you to @gnpwdrnwhiskey for constantly listening and helping me through this one, I definitely needed it on this chapter.
Series Masterlist / Playlist / Main Masterlist
Previous/ Epilogue
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It had taken a few months for Dieter to tangle himself into your life. 
Inching his way into your mind, settling deep within your bones and eventually finding shelter in the most sacred of places— your heart. 
It took only a matter of a few short days for him to imprint himself into your home, pieces of him lingering in your space, even long after he had left. 
But you can’t seem to pull yourself from the confines of your bed, each morning since his departure, you study the hollowed out spot where his worn body claimed as his, still having yet to find the energy to make it or wash the sheets clean of the hours of intensity and conversations ingrained into the plush pillow-top. 
Your fingers run over the creases of the pillow, remembering how you would trace the same lines etched across his face in the early mornings, the usual scrunch between his brows smooth and relaxed, the faintest of snores escaping his parted lips— memorizing his angelic dreamy state. 
A soft thread catches the path your finger continues to take. A silky strand of hair, no longer a part of him, now woven in through the fibers of your cotton pillowcase— proof he was here and existed in this space with you, with those unruly thick curls tousled with ardency, sweat and sleep— your fingers still managing to work through the wildness. 
*
-Saturday Morning-
“What was your last serious relationship like?” Dieter asks, laying on his side with an arm bent, head propped on his hand, your bed sheet draped over his naked lower half. 
His free hand mapping out the plains of your exposed skin, the morning sun filters through your bedroom window, providing a soft muted light as his fingers continue to unearth new details of your body he has yet to see in daylight. 
“Oof! Hitting me with the serious stuff first thing in the morning.” The rasp of sleep still coating your throat, your body turned in close towards him with one arm tucked between your pillow and resting head, your free hand mesmerized by the texture of his skin— connecting invisible lines between each freckle painted across his neck and chest. 
“Question for a question then. But you don’t have to answer it if you don’t want to.” 
“No, it’s fine. It’s— just a lot for some people to hear. Kind of just keep it to myself, less questions and ‘how come’ once they find out.” 
“Hey, I won’t judge you, for anything you tell me— ever.”
Dieter watches the way your eyes flit about for a few seconds, his hand stopping to rest on your naked hip with a gentle squeeze, a reassuring gesture of sincerity in his words. 
“Frankie was my high school sweetheart, we started dating our senior year. We were together— gosh…. 5, almost 6 years.” You let out a sigh, all the memories of your previous relationship flooding back to you, having been locked away for so long. 
“After high school, when we realized things were getting serious, we decided to figure out what we wanted moving forward. We were on the same page with everything for the most part, no real deal breakers. We would get married after college, buy a house— a seemingly cookie cutter life together.”
“I’m not following— sounds like the perfect life to me.” Confusion settles across his forehead, brows drawn together as he studies your face. 
“Except, I couldn’t give him the one thing he wanted— kids.” You notice the way his face drops when you say it, knowing his first thought is exactly what everyone else usually assumes when you tell them.
“I guess I should rephrase that— I didn’t want, don’t want kids. It was something we established too, both on board with living a childless life. We agreed we would be the best Aunt and Uncle for our friend’s kids.”
Dieter nods at your admission, the hand on your hip starting to leave feather-like strokes the length of your side, goosebumps scattering across your warm skin. 
“It wasn’t until we were well into our relationship that things changed. We had a bit of a pregnancy scare, we were both very careful too, so it was a bit of a shock when it happened. I was angry with myself— how could I let it happen? What did I do wrong? All the things running through my head the minute I saw those pink lines, wondering how we were going to afford a baby on our combined income, all while trying to get through finishing college— I spiraled pretty hard for a good week. But, through some routine testing, we discovered it was a false-positive— I was so fucking relieved!” 
Your fingers still over the hollow of his neck, taking a deep breath, not really sure how Dieter is taking everything you’re saying. 
“In the midst of my inner turmoil over the thought of being pregnant, I hadn’t really checked in with Frankie to see where his head was at, I had just assumed he was riding the same boat as me.”
“He changed his mind?” He asks. 
“Yeah— or it was what he had always wanted, he just didn’t realize it until that week, when it was almost a possibility.”
“So you broke up?”
“We stayed together for another year afterwards, thinking we could work through it. But I couldn’t keep that from him, it would have eaten me alive being the reason he wasn’t 100% happy. We decided it was best if we split.” You can’t help the smile that starts to develop, Dieter’s receptive demeanor made this whole moment feel a little less heavier than you thought it would be. 
“I ended up running into Frankie a few years ago. We caught up and I learned he ended up joining the army, Special Forces I think, met his wife while saving her from some bar creep, always the chivalrous one—  and they have two little girls. I like to think we both ended up where we were supposed to be.”
There’s a prick of something that ricochets across his chest— the pairing of unaltered reverence and adoration. You just want the best for others, and it shows even in how not that long ago how you went to battle for Diem out of pure love, wanting the best for her and Wren— he respects you so much now looking back on it. 
Dieter leans over and places a few soft kisses to your lips, the last one lingering a little longer before pulling away to rest his forehead on yours. 
“Thank you, for sharing that with me.” He murmurs against your lips. 
“Of course. My question now— What about you? Do you want kids?” You ask. 
Dieter gently pushes you to your back, settling himself between your legs, peering down at you with a soft smile.
“I’ll only ever be Uncle Dude— never had the desire to be a dad.” 
His head dips down to your still bare chest, the few kitten-like licks before he takes your nipple into his mouth, scorching and persistent, causing your back to arch up into him, eyes fluttering closed and mouth wide as you emit a breathless whine. 
A few intense sucking motions before he gives your breast an experimental bite, his eyes observing the way your body writhes at the juxtaposition of sensations before releasing it with a pop, blowing a stream of cold air across your wet skin and watching the way your nipple instantly tightens. 
He crawls up your body, one arm resting next to your head as the other snakes down between your bodies taking hold of his now hardened cock, a few quick strokes before he’s notching the head at your now dripping entrance. 
“Doesn’t mean I don’t like partaking in the act.” His words punctuated by him fully sheathing himself into your cunt.
“Oh fuck! Dieter—“ Your laugh quickly exchanged for a heady moan. 
Your bodies meld together in a heated indulgence. The slippery grip of dewy skin as your bodies work in a synergistic fashion, calculated snapping of hips take you both to a climactic level of bliss. 
*
BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ
The vibration of your phone against your nightstand draws you back from the reliving of your weekend with Dieter, interrupting the playlist streaming through the phone speaker. 
You grab your phone to check who the message is from…
Mom ❤️: Hey Sweetheart! Let me know when you’re heading over. Going to sit by the pool for a bit until then. This place is beautiful, I might not ever leave! Talk to you soon!
The music promptly picks back up again with its uptempo beat, you connect your phone to your speakers in the living room, the words floating brightly in the background as you will yourself out of bed. 
In route to a much needed cup of coffee, you pull on the fuzzy warm jacket that seems to have established itself as an essential element in your daily life, dropping your phone in its cavernous pocket before bringing the fleecy fabric to your face for a brief moment. It’s a cognitive experience, the inhalation of the still drenched in his signature Dieter-musk, making your insides gooey and flustered. 
‘Ooh, I lose control, can't seem to get enough, uh-huh
When I wake from dreaming, tell me is it really love?’
You chuckle into your cup as you take that first sip, the words a flawless depiction, and complete coincidence of every morning this week. 
A quick text back to your mom to fill her in on the day’s plans. 
Poppy: Hi Mom! Had a bit of a slow morning, but I’m up and moving now! Going to shower and get ready. I thought we could go to this new sandwich shop that just opened. I've been wanting to try it. I’ll text you when I’m on my way to the hotel. Love you
Your mom had gotten in late last night, still having not seen her yet. Diem was so kind to put her up in the Capri for the weekend, your mom insisting she didn’t want to intrude and give you space. 
It was her first time visiting since you had moved, but not her first time to Ojai. She had visited on numerous occasions in her travels before having you, it was usually a brief stop for a few hours to grab a quick bite and then off to her next stop. 
As a child, you would spend hours browsing through her endless collection of photo albums, dreaming up your own stories about visiting her favorite places— grainy Kodak Portra 160 was her film of choice, the color grading and light leaks adding to the cinematized scenes. There was something alluring about Ojai, always spending a little extra time with those images, it had become your ‘one day I am going to move there’ place. So, when you had started actually considering moving, your mind instantly went to Ojai— it was a no-brainer this was the place you were meant to set your roots in. 
A slow sip of the ambered liquid trickles down your throat, its atomic structure hitting every nerve as it slowly expands in your veins, giving you the ample amount of energy to keep you from crawling right back in bed. 
A thrumming piano tune dances across the room, instantaneously reliving the moment you coerced Dieter to add it to your growing playlist, selfishly you hope the familiar high falsetto voice evokes the same memory for Dieter as it does for you when he shuffles through the songs. 
Just a small town girl
Livin' in a lonely world
She took the midnight train going anywhere
Just a city boy
Born and raised in South Detroit
He took the midnight train going anywhere
*
-Sunday Afternoon-
“Add. The. Song. Dieter!” A purely joking dramatic version of yourself pleads with him, you sense the song isn’t a front-runner for Dieter, but you’re enjoying the banter it’s causing. 
The popular chorus continues roaring through the living room where you’ve both been camped out for the last hour, switching off listening to music on bith your record player and Dieter’s Spotify account.
It felt silly when you suggested you both should create a compilation of songs that you could listen to and think of the other person— complete cheeseball move. It was reminiscent of junior high when you would download songs off shady sites and then burn the perfect cd mix for your crush, labeling it— I really like you but I’m not good with words, so here’s some songs instead— the cover art hand drawn sharpie doodles and emo quotes that could bring a 15 year old girl in love to tears. Being it was modern times, Dieter opted for a playlist of top favorite songs between the two of you, dubbing it ‘Dieter’s & Poppy’s Mix Tape.’
He wants to engrain this scene in his mind forever, your naked form cloaked in his beloved brown jacket, dancing around your living room, belting the lyrics in the most out of tune way. 
“Streetlights, people!— Dieter, please! You said our favorite songs— this would be a favorite of mine! Add the damn song!!” 
“This— This is your favorite song? It’s like the most overplayed karaoke song in the history of music” His cocked eyebrow as he holds his phone with the Spotify app open in his lap, finding it hard to hold off his growing smirk and not surprised in the least that it’s a top pick for you. 
“I’ll have you know, I am the reigning Karaoke Queen, west of the Mississippi River— you're in the presence of royalty, Babe. Don't stop believin' Hold on to that feelin'!” Grabbing another slice of cold pizza from the half eaten box on the coffee table, you continue twirling about on your tippy toes, maintaining your off-key singing between bites. 
“Something tells me your full of shit. Fine— It’s added. But I’m adding ‘You Need to Calm Down’ for tax.”
“I need to do what?” Your twirling ceases, the bottom of his jacket swaying about as you watch the way he stares down at his phone, fingers pecking at the screen. 
“No— it’s a song. According to Wren, “it’s a Taylor Swift masterpiece!’” His air quotes and deadpan expression almost take you out. 
“Never would have pegged you as a Swiftie, but I love it.”
“Well, it’s all she wants to listen to on the drive to school. I can’t help it if i know every word to almost every song.”
The next song plays through, Dieter continues to watch you from his spot on the couch, loving the carefree manner in which you move, your infectious smile on display as you sing along to a song you definitely do not know a single word to, eyes closed and arms stretched out letting the chorus fully envelop your mind— this whole moment solidifying his love for you. 
He brings his phone up and snaps a few pictures, each image progressively blurrier as he tries to capture you dancing, his last attempt is more or less successful, the timing just right and the result an accurate depiction of how he wants look back on this time together— a flash of your beaming smile that causes your eyes to crinkle at the edges and your audacious desire to be completely yourself in front of him is a picture worth taking. 
“Are you taking a picture of me?” Breathless and smiling. 
“Guilty. I need something to remember this day while I’m away.”
“Okay, but take a better one then.” 
Grabbing his sunglasses off the table to situate them on your face, your bare leg crossed over and kicked out to the side in an ameture Radio City Rockette fashion, middle fingers erect while your hands cover your now exposed breasts, a one-sided nose scrunch and curled lip with some semblance of a smile, all while the remaining slice of your pizza dangles from your mouth. 
“Beautiful, just like the other ones.” His chest vibrates at the sight of you, he pats his thighs motioning for you to come over to where he’s seated. “Alright Karaoke Queen, get your sexy little Believin’ ass over here!” 
Tossing your crust back into the pizza box, you skip-hop over to him, your knees sinking into the cushions of the couch as you straddle his boxer clad lap. His hands sliding under where his Jacket is splayed open, his warm touch glides over your thighs. 
“Let me see— the others, please.” You ask timidly, not sure what ‘others’ entails, pulling his sunglasses off and tossing them to the side. 
His thumb swipes and presses across his phone screen, then hands you an open folder of images, tiny intimate squares fill the screen. You click on the most recent ones of you here in your home, laughing at how ridiculous you think you look, glancing up to see Dieter’s head tilted to the side and his gaze fixed on you. Refocusing on his phone, you start swiping, so many images of times you had spent together, except you're the main focus of each photo, very much unaware of your photo being taken. 
There was the afternoon spent baking cupcakes for no reason other than they sounded delicious. Flour covering the surface of the counter, while you and Wren laugh at something completely unrelated to the making of said cupcakes— equal amounts of flour coating both your hands and faces. 
There’s the backyard dinner Diem had invited you over for. You were seated across from where Dieter and Diem were sitting, listening intently to something she was saying. The sun warm against your back as it had started its descent, your elbow propped on the table and chin resting on your hand, your attention focused on every aspect of the conversation. 
The first evening Dieter and Wren had attended your art class together, a few of you talking about something art related and then a couple of you actually painting and drawing— your face naturally lighting up at you sharing art with others. 
Each swipe revealed another image, so many of you smiling while looking off at whatever had your attention, full body laughs shared with someone out of frame, deep in thought or absorbed into something you were reading or looking at on your phone. 
Seeing your life candidly curated in a digital collection of photos has so many emotions whirling through your mind, love being the most prominent one. 
Your breath hitches when you scroll to the last image in the folder.
You're at the front of your classroom, a stack of papers tucked against your chest as your smile beams out to your class. You note your outfit isn’t your usual uniform, you're wearing your favorite band tee, jeans and sneakers— it’s the morning you were late and Dieter stepped in to help you out, bringing a sense of ease to your disarray of a morning. 
“I think that was one of the moments I knew.” Dieter’s smoky voice cuts into the air, pointing at the image you’ve been studying a little longer than the others.
“Knew what?” Looking up from the phone to see his chestnut eyes twinkling with adoration, his hands gently rubbing against your hips. 
“Knew that I needed you in my life, however that was.” 
“There were others?”
“Your art class was another.”
There’s a beat of silence between you, the start of the next song picking up its pace. 
“Do you ever imagine what it would be like if we would have met each other sooner than we did?” Something you’ve thought about at times, wishing you had more time with him, maybe if you had met sooner. Your fingers trace along the ridge of his collarbone as you wait for his answer. 
“No— you would have definitely deserved better than who I was back then. You would have hated the thought of being in the same room as me.” 
He wouldn’t have been anything close to who he is now, grateful you were never fully subjected to the asshole he used to be. 
Your hand settles on his bare chest, right where his heart is beating fiercely.
“I deserve you now though. And I definitely want to be in every room you walk into.” 
‘Tears stream down your face
I promise you I will learn from my mistakes
Tears stream down your face, and I
Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones And I will try to fix you’
Your lips meet his in an unhurried embrace, Dieter pulling your lower body closer to his, his fingers digging into the meat of your backside when your hips start to gradually begin to grind against him, his cock hardening with each brush of your wet cunt. 
His hands create their own intimate paths over your body, one traveling up the length of your spine, the other moving to the underside of your breast, cupping the supple weight of it in his palm. A swipe of his thumb over your sensitive nipple has you gasping into his mouth, the catalyst for your silent plea for more— and he hears it loud and clear. 
His hands. His mouth. His cock— all working in perfect, articulate motions. Until you’re succumbing to the culmination of purposeful exertion and precise execution. 
The last 48 hours were spent with Dieter's departure looming in the background of your minds, not allowing yourselves to stew on the impending heartache that was to come the moment you said your goodbyes. 
Between the hours of relaxed conversations and alleviating desirous needs, you both managed to get through the weekend with a strong sense of optimism about the future. A shared commitment to each other, with endless promises of check-ins whenever possible and working out a plan to see each other once Dieter had his schedule set, it was enough to keep the sadness at bay— it gave you something to look forward to. 
The afternoon slowly began to bleed into your final evening together, tangled limbs and intimate memories treated with exactness, fueling hushed whispers of ‘I love yous’ embedding themselves into every single part of your soul. 
*
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK 
You hadn’t been expecting anyone, the rapid knock on your front door was a complete surprise. 
After confirming your name with the sweet delivery lady, she hands off the beautiful dried floral arrangement, mentioning a card was tucked into the center, wishing you a great rest of your day before driving away. 
You had never seen anything like it before, an incredible assortment of dried flowers, stems and oversized leaves arranged meticulously in a ceramic vase. 
Placing the flowers on the kitchen counter, you pull the small card from it, reading the small written note:
Poppy, I’m so proud of you! You’re so talented and I can’t wait to hear how tonight goes. Love you, Dieter
You smile at his thoughtfulness, missing him so much and needing to hear his voice desperately. 
Pulling your phone from the coat pocket, you dial his number and hope there’s a chance you catch him at a good time. 
“Hello.” There’s warmth in the way his voice cracks through the phone. 
“Hi. I just got the flowers— they’re absolutely beautiful, Dieter. Thank you!” 
“I can’t take full credit. Nessa, my assistant, said you might like them, something about them lasting forever. Anyways, she set up the order while I was in a meeting.” 
“Well, I’ll have to thank her at some point then.” There’s some static carrying through the line as you continue your conversation.
“How are you feeling about today?” 
“Good. Just finally pulled myself out of bed. Going to get dressed, then have lunch with my mom before I get ready for tonight. I miss you, Dieter.” 
There’s a brief moment where it sounds like the call cuts out, looking at the screen you see it’s still counting up the call minutes, still connected. 
“I— you too. ‘Ant wait— it goes….”
“Dieter?…Hello? Babe, your phone keeps cutting out.”
*Call Dropped* 
The connection was lost, conversation cut short, staring at a now black phone screen. 
Poppy💐: Your service must be shitty or something, couldn’t hear most of what you were saying. Call me when you can. Love you 💜
You attach a photo of the flowers along with your message. Knowing if he was in a bad service area, you wouldn’t be getting an immediate response, so you take that as your cue to get yourself ready. 
Poppy: Getting dressed! Should be leaving here in 20 minutes. See you in a bit mom! 😘 
*
Your mom’s presence was exactly what you needed today. Seeing her sitting across from you now makes you feel less overwhelmed by the fact that your boyfriend isn’t here and you’re hours away from sharing this passion project of yours, something so intimate and personal, with a room full of art loving strangers.
But even in her presence, you still find your mind wandering— Dieter being the central character of your deviating thoughts— even things outside your home, the smallest of details, reminding you of him in some way. 
Bart’s across the street, a favorite spot for both of you, especially after the talk you both shared coming to an understanding and moving forward together with a new perspective on each other.
Someone walking by, where your mom and you are sitting together on the restaurant patio, was carrying a merchant bag from a store you had bought Dieter’s birthday present. There was a gold colored velvet button up shirt cover in a large geometric print that you had seen while out shopping with Diem one weekend, she had made the offhand comment that it was totally something Dieter would wear and when you had found out a few days later that Dieter’s birthday was the following weekend, you immediately went back to buy it for him. 
You had also thrown in a pair of tiny Frozen charms, Elsa for Wren and Olaf for Dieter, for the Crocs you had seen him wear around Diem’s house on movie nights, in the chance he hated the shirt you knew he was a sucker for kitschy gifts— by the way he wears the shirt regularly, it’s fair to assume he likes it. 
You even think of him in the most laughable ways too, like when a car similar to his drives by the restaurant, you of course immediately think of him— you find yourself to be a lost cause at this point. 
“I’m so sorry, Sweetheart, I’m sure Dieter would love to be here if he could. Aside from him leaving, how was the rest of the week after he left?” 
“Hmm?” 
“I asked how’s your week been? We haven’t talked much since last week.” 
“Oh my gosh, Mom! I’m so sorry— I’m literally the worst person to be around right now, I’m sure. I’ve been so in my head lately, I can’t even think straight.” You cover your face as you apologize for being lackluster company to her, realizing you’ve spent most of lunch off in La-La-Land. 
“My week was good though. With summer break starting last week, I spent most of this wrapping up last minute grading and finishing up paperwork. Monday and Tuesday I went to clean up my classroom, just mainly clearing out old projects and lesson plans from the past year. Which then left me the rest of the week to get my canvases prepared and hung up over at Reverie, where the art opening is tonight.”
“Sounds like it’s kept your mind off of Dieter not being able to be there tonight.” She gives you a sympathetic look, and it makes you feel so appreciative that she flew out to be here for you. 
“If I’m being honest, it really hasn’t. I just selfishly keep wishing he didn’t have leave so I could have more time with him. And then I hate myself for even thinking that, because I’m so happy and proud of him— he deserves this, I just miss him so much. We’ve tried to talk and FaceTime when we can, but his schedule right now has been busy, so I just sit and wait for him to call most evenings. God, I sound ridiculous!” A slight crack to your voice as you’re overcome with emotion, it’s sadness and happiness all wrapped up in a perfect little box sitting in your chest, lifting your chin up as you fight back the tears that threaten to break. 
“Oh, honey.” She passes you a few clean napkins, noticing the few tears that managed to escape. “Maybe give him a call in a bit, I’m sure hearing his voice will help you feel better.”
“Yeah, I’ll give him a call when I get home. Thanks mom. I’m so glad you’re here! Let’s talk about something else, bring the mood back up. How’s retirement going?” Changing the subject to hopefully suppress your mopey demeanor, dabbing your wet cheeks lightly. 
“Oh, it’s great! I’ve actually been thinking about doing some traveling now that I have all this time.” 
“I love that for you mom. You should go, see the world— you deserve it.” 
She shared about the places she had already started planning to visit— in and around Canada, parts of Europe, then several areas of South America. You greedily wished she didn’t want to go, feeling a steady wave of emotions rock through you at the thought of her being gone for so long. But, you know how much traveling means to her, it’s pure joy watching the way she can’t stop smiling as she shows you landmark places she’ll be visiting— a true testament to chase after the things you love. 
*
Doubt. 
Fear. 
Trepidation. 
A war of anxieties. Ruthless, belligerent intruders, battling for control and power. Your mind slowly forfeits, white flag in waiting, ready to surrender yourself to the helm of your own enemies. 
Even with the excitement surrounding tonight, you hadn’t really mastered the art of calming intrusive thoughts and apprehension once they began to build their way into your consciousness.
There’s the brief moment where you consider getting back into your car and driving home— rid yourself of the stress and anxiety that is overcoming you at the thought of being the center of attention tonight— albeit your art the main focus, but with that will come talking about yourself and it has you ready to bail. 
But, you had put so much time and effort into this collection, executing and curating an intimate journey of discovery in the form of detailed lines and brush strokes that make up a whole series of paintings you are incredibly proud of. 
Breathe. 
In. 
Out. 
Dieter comes to mind, the words he shared with you before he left: 
“You were made for this, it’s who you are and it’s what you know— don’t let you be the reason you stop chasing what you deserve. I believe in everything you do, you should too.” 
His words wash over you, each one forging a path for you to conquer your reluctance to seek out something that you have always dreamed of doing. 
You pull out your phone to shoot Dieter a quick text before heading into the gallery. 
Poppy💐: Hi! I miss you and wish you were here ❤. Hope you had a great day. I’ll have Diem take pictures to send you later. Call me when you can. Love you xo
Remembering back to when  Dieter had shared something he does when his anxiety starts to surface, deciding to take a minute to borrow his technique to help ground your thoughts. 
You see the vibrant lights from the front windows of Reverie Studio, the way the moon is peeking out from behind the building making its way through the sky, the streak of lights from headlights of passing cars, blurred bodies of people milling around the streets unbothered by you rooted in the center of the sidewalk, the time stamped over an image of you and Dieter as the lock screen on your phone. 
You feel the weight of your phone leaving your hand as you drop it in your purse, the flowy dress that you picked out with Diem a few weeks ago specifically for this evening, a folded piece of paper with notes for the small speech you were going to give, a good luck charm in the form of Dieter’s 1 year chip clutched tightly into your hand. 
You hear the muted chatter of the early birds spilling from the open door of the gallery, the mingling musical instruments in the local park showering concert goers with an original melodic song, an indistinguishable mix of hello’s and goodbye’s wrapped around gossip filled phone conversations. 
You smell the sweet-vanilla-waffle confections of the little ice cream shop that stays open late during the summer, a hint of a smokey musk dusting the air reminding you of the woody spicy that’s so distinctly Dieter. 
You taste the delicate flavors of a savory future, one that has a palatable balance of sweetness and verve— something so delectable that you don’t think you’ll be able to stop reveling in its richness. 
BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ
Your immediate thought is it’s Dieter, pulling out your phone to see it’s instead Diem. 
Diem: Are you going to stand out there all night?? Get your ass in here!
She’s standing in the window with Wren on her hip, both of them waving at you. 
Feeling a somewhat renewed sense of confidence, you wait for a break in the passing cars and jog across the street to join the crowd already forming inside. 
You’re completely taken aback once you’re through the front door, not by the overwhelming number of people who showed up to view your work, but by how the room is filled with a plethora of vases overflowing with poppies. 
The edges of the room, table tops, display pedestals all covered in a sea of pinks, oranges and pale yellow flowers. 
“So glad you could show up!” Diem and Wren wrap you in a joint hug, a warm greeting with a touch of her special sarcasm. 
“Where did all these flowers come from? They weren’t here yesterday when I stopped in to do some final touches.”
“A certain someone might have wanted to surprise you with something special.”
There’s an immediate pang in your chest, his thoughtfulness and his way of showing support by filling the studio space with your favorite flowers, you have to actively fight off the urge to cry tears of happiness. 
You snap a few photos, focusing on the ones that sit below where your canvases are hung on the fabricated display walls. 
You can’t contain the smile plastered across your face, seeing your work being admired by those in attendance, getting a chance to catch up with friends and fellow artists and having your mom close by listening to her talk up your talent with complete strangers— all still while wishing Dieter were here bask in the excitement with you. 
“If I could have everyone’s attention please.” The owners ask, the room’s noise quickly reduced to a curbed level. “We thank everyone for coming to show their support for this wonderful event. We’ll have her share more about it with you and then we’d like to say a few words afterwards.” 
Applause breaches the silence as you’re beckoned to the center of the room, your paper of scribbled notes in one hand and Dieter’s chip in the other, making your way to the front of the mass of people. 
You introduce yourself as you take in all the faces, some familiar and some new, Diem and your mom in a side embrace with Wren to the front of them, each person enthralled and eager to hear you share more about you and the art behind you. 
“Art has always been a part of me, in so many different ways. Growing up I would tear apart my mom’s magazines to make collages of pretty pictures, sorry mom.” Glancing down at your paper as a wave of soft laughter filters around, it elicits a surge of excitement and sureness blooms somewhere deep in your soul, deciding to for-go reading anything you had written and just share from the heart. 
“And then I got my first sketchbook, that thing never left my side. Always with me at school, trips to the grocery store and even on days when my mom worked late, I’d sit in the corner of her classroom and just draw— creating little scenes from memory. I filled the pages rather quickly too, pages were barely hanging on with the amount of wear and tear I had put it through. Before I knew it, I had amassed a collection of sketchbooks and canvases over the years. Art has always been a part of who I am and I think it always will be.”
Everyone seemed so fascinated by everything you’re sharing. Explaining the story behind your collection— starting as a literal dream and slowly becoming a now etched on canvas reality. 
Even the collaborative piece with Dieter is hung among the others, you went the extra step to add his name onto the little artist placard:
Artists: Dieter & Poppy
Title: ‘Sweet Creature’
Medium: Acrylic on Canvas
$: (Not For Sale)
“Thank you all for taking the time out of your busy schedules to be here tonight, I appreciate it so very much, I’ll be around the rest of the evening to chat more or answer any questions. And thank you to Reviere Studio, you’ve become like a second home to me. I’m so grateful that I had the opportunity to share my love for the arts with the many who attended my classes in this very space, but also to be the last art showing truly means so much to me. I will miss you all.”
Another round of applause and cheers fill the open space. You feel like it went pretty well for how nervous you were earlier in the evening, not really sure why you were doubting yourself to begin with. 
The crowd slowly starts to disperse as you start to weave to where Diem, your mom and Wren are standing, getting stopped for hugs and hellos from former class attendees, congratulatory remarks for complete strangers too— you’re even shocked when Betty and Marilyn stop to share their well wishes with you. 
“I’m so proud of you sweetheart, it’s all so amazing!” Your mom wraps you in praises and a tight hug. 
“Thank you mom, I’m so happy you could be here!”
“I’m happy to be here too!” Wren’s excitement is barely containable as she bounces off the floor. 
“I’m so happy you’re here too Wren!” You tell her as you bend down to give her a hug as well. 
Standing back to your full height, you turn to Diem and just wrap your arms around her shoulders and hold her close, she returns the same energy. 
“Thank you so much for everything, you are literally the best friend I could have ever asked for. I love you so much Diem!” 
“God dammit, Poppy! I didn’t wear any waterproof mascara because I wasn’t planning on crying tonight! I love you too!” She pulls away and starts fanning her face, drying up the tears that had started to fill her eyes. 
“Excuse me! We have a quick, exciting announcement to make before the evening continues with drinks and appetizers.” The sweet owner Susi’s voice boomed out to the guests. 
*
Dieter doesn’t like lying, not in general at least and especially not to you— open and honest is how he continues to move forward with his life. 
But this doesn’t feel like a lie, in a sense. A secret. A surprise. 
Taking this role meant sacrificing his time away and that terrified him, especially being his first project to jump back into. 
After a call with his agent on the drive back to LA Monday morning and a check in with his sponsor,  Dieter requested a meeting with the movie’s higher ups. 
That meeting didn’t happen until a few days later, but when he found out filming would be held in and around LA, Dieter learned his request for weekends to travel back to Ojai was successful. 
That gave him less than 24 hours to get flowers ordered to be delivered to the gallery, let Diem in on his plan to ensure everything was in motion, all while you had no idea what was happening. 
Dieter settles in the back of the crowd, tucked out of sight, finding it difficult to keep his eyes off you as you stand up there. 
Watching you share about your life and how art has always been a big part of it, the two of you so similar in many ways makes him feel a deeper connection to you. 
He recognizes the paper you’ve started crumpled into your hand, worn and creased from the repetitive folding and unfolding, scarred by the cross-hatching over abandoned words or shelved sentences, bullet points of importance to add substance to your speech. He likes the version you who was pacing around her living room Sunday morning, paper in one hand and pen in the other, reciting each line with a fluctuating ambivalent tone, stopping intermittently at the coffee table to rework a line or add something he had suggested. But he loves this version of you standing before him right now, no hesitation in your words, speaking with certainty and feeling— you were more than prepared. 
The way you wear your confidence stirs something inside of him— trying his best to keep a low profile, because all he wants to do is scoop you up and kiss you breathless, to tell you over and over, how perfect and amazing he thinks you are.
He notices the light catching something you’re intently smoothing your fingers over, tracing repeatedly over every word— It’s not going to be easy, but it’s going to be worth it— engraved on his 1 year chip, a habit he’s welcomed into his daily routine. You had refused to take it from him when he offered it, not wanting him to be without it longer than necessary, but he had vowed to take it back the moment you were reunited. Placing it in your palm, hinting at the streak of luck it had brought him over the past year, ensuring that it would do the same for you— but he knew you wouldn’t need any.
He wants more of this— more time with you. To feel immersed back into this normal paced life and experience the joys that you feel regularly. 
He has to shuffle himself around a bit when the crowd starts to move about, still trying to not be seen, watching you celebrate post speech with your mom, Diem and Wren— eagerly wanting to do the same. 
The gallery owner’s announcement signals the beginning of something exciting. 
He just hopes you’re as ecstatic about what’s about to be revealed as he is. 
*
Susi takes a moment for everyone to quiet down and focus their attention on her before continuing her speech. 
“Earlier this year, we had made the difficult decision to close our doors— deciding it was time to seek out a new chapter with new adventures and close this chapter on Reverie Studio.”
You’re sandwiched between Diem and your mom, hands intertwined as your head rests on Diem’s shoulder, somber as Susi’s heartfelt words about the studio’s closing. 
“But we have some exciting news to share with you all. The gallery and studio are now under new ownership and will continue to stay open. It will be under a new name, but will still retain what Reverie had previously been known for— classes, art openings, studio space. And while we’re sad to hand it over, we’re excited to see it continue to serve the community.”
The delighted commotion pours out into the streets, catching the attention of passersby’s curiosity. 
“So, we welcome you to the new home of Les Coquelicots Studio. The new owner is somewhere here in the audience too.” Heads begin to turn, seeking out where this mysterious owner is, when Susi points towards the back of the room and waves. “Ah, there he is. Please be sure to make him feel welcome and thank him before you leave. Thank you all again for coming and have a wonderful rest of the night.”
Music begins to brim over the conversations that start to pick up, guests dispersing to fill their small plates with finger foods and refilling of drinks, ambling about observing your artwork and surrounding art pieces. 
But you're too focused on the fact that you had no idea that the space wasn’t closing, as you continue turning about scanning the room for the new owner. 
Everything stills. 
No sound. 
No horde of people. 
Just him. 
Dieter Bravo. 
All Dieter-like too, leaning against the back wall, hands secure in his pockets, the slightest tick of his jaw punctuating his dimple. 
Your brain is actively working to re-hardwire your body to function properly, but you’re motionless. Speechless. 
He’s here, propelling himself forward and making his way to you, even as he stands before you, it doesn’t feel real. 
“Surprise.” His voice nearly takes you out, it hasn’t been that long since you had last spoken, but you’ve missed its gravely tone so much. 
“What are you doing here? I thought— I don’t know what I thought because I can’t think straight at the moment. How are you here?” Dizzy with total surprise and confusion. 
He leans in, laughing at your flustered smile, hands slinking their way to your face, his touch charged with fervor as his thumbs sweep over the apples of your cheeks. 
“Came to see my girl.” He smiles softly, his words a breath away from where you want him most. 
You close the distance between you, his lips fitting perfectly against yours, unbothered by the room full of people around you. You knew you would never get that same feeling or experience like with your first kiss, but this is second best and you welcome it fully. 
Before the kiss has a chance to turn into something more than what is appropriate for the setting, you pull away, resting your forehead on his, breathless and happy. 
“It’s you isn’t it— You bought this place?” The answer is clear as you look into his warm eyes. 
“I did.”
“Les Coquelicots? Monet’s painting?” 
“Poppies.” 
This is it. Your forever. With him. Always. 
“I know how much this place means to you, think of it as a thank you— for giving me a chance, for believing in me.” 
“You didn’t have to buy me an art gallery as a thank you, dinner would have been fine.” Your fingers catching the rampant tears streaming down your cheeks, emitting a breathy laugh. 
“We can go to dinner after this then.” His words mumbled in a kiss against your forehead. 
“You still didn’t answer my question— How are you here? What about your movie?” 
“When I found out we would be shooting locally in LA, I told them I had one request— that I was able to go home every weekend if I wasn’t needed on set.” 
“But your home is already there?”
“I’m selling my home in West Hollywood— my realtor is getting it ready to be listed next week, hopefully moved out by the end of the month. So I can move home.” 
It goes without saying that you know what he means, but you want to hear him say it out loud.
“Do you mean here? You’ll be moving here?” 
He nods his head in response.
“What if this place gets too boring for a big movie star like yourself?” Biting your lip with a hint of a smile. 
“Poppy— wherever I go, you bring me home.” 
The kiss is short, but full of a warmth you crave when he’s in your presence, your arms linking around his neck as he pulls flush against, white knuckle grip on your hips— the two you lost in each other as the work around you carries on. 
“Hmm— so, you’re gonna move in with Diem permanently?” 
“Nah, I’ll find some place eventually.” He winks, no real rush to move in together, but he sees it as an option at some point in the future. 
“Well, if you’re over living with your sister, I have a comfortable couch with your name all over it.” You snort at your offer. 
“Poppy, I’m not sleeping on your fucking couch.”
“Suit yourself then.” You mirror his wink before pulling him in for another string of small pecks. 
“I love you, Dieter.”
“I love you too, Poppy”
Next
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rindouheart · 1 year
Note
hello I do not know if your requests are open if not do not hesitate to skip. if so could you write something about Noa bringing his wife and child to Blue Lock (but no one knows he's married or a father) until Noa introduces them or they come to see him play please. (And i really like what you write for blue lock it's awesome)
“WAIT, ARE THEM…?” | noel noa
content. fluffy + quite short oof / female pronouns used
author’s note. hi love, sorry for being this late! this last month was a bit hard for me because I had like,, 9 tests or so?? it literally drained all my energy and inspiration. I hope you like this short scenario btw <3
*italics writing means they’re talking in french
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the boys’ locker room has never been so lively: everyone is pumped up from the recent win against fc barcha.
“where’s noel noa? wasn’t he talking with isagi like, five minutes ago?” asks kurona, looking around.
“he just got out of the locker room, i honestly don’t know where he can be” answers isagi, while picking up his sports bag “however, we can look for him”.
the boys quickly get changed and go out, looking for their new coach.
after a couple of minutes, yukimiya stops the group and whispers “wait, i can hear some people talking, one of the voices is very similar to noa’s”
“they’re talking in french, i would say” says kurona, hiding from the scene.
“how’s it going with the team? are the young players promising?” asks a feminine voice.
“good, they’re making progress quickly. sometimes i can see they argue or making some strategy mistakes, but a controlled rivalry is nice to grow” answers the other.
“that’s noel noa’s voice!” confirms isagi “i used to watch his interviews in french months ago, his voice sound exactly like that”
“do you speak french?” asks raichi.
“absolutely no”
“shh, i can see noa from here…” mumbles yukki, still hiding behind a door. “he’s with a woman around his age i guess, and… wait, is that a child?”
a choir of “what?”, “huh?” and “how?” floats in the air.
some of them must have been too loud, because noa notices the voices behind him. “i think there’s someone there” he says, in french.
then, he turns around and speak: “come out”.
isagi, followed by yukki, kurona and the rest of the group, comes out.
“were you spying me or something?” noa asks them.
“not really” answers kurona, keeping a polite tone. isagi is quick to complete the sentence “we wanted to ask you to review the match with us, but then we stopped here because we heard you talking in french”
“oh, well, i understand” noa crosses his arms “however, i always keep my private life private, but now i guess i have to tell you about my wife and my son”
the boys just stare at the woman and the kid near her.
“hi, i am noa’s wife, y/n, and he is our son, clément” the woman smiles “sorry for my japanese, i know it isn’t perfect yet”
“blue lock!” noa’s son runs towards the boys, excited to see the new teammates of his father.
“clément wants to be like you one day, playing in blue lock and become one of the greatest strikers in history”
“play!” cheers clément, and then asks his father “can they play with me for a bit? i want to show off my skills”
“guys, would you like to play with my son for a bit? he wants to show you his skills” he translates what his child has just said.
“sure!” smiles isagi “he will become on of the best for sure, having a father like you is a privilege, noa”
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@rindouheart ‘s scenarios — 032923
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bromeoanddudeliet · 6 days
Note
8 and 12!
Thank you for responding!! 😭💖 I love your art btw!! You’re such a big inspiration!!
#8: After Act 3, what does their life look like? What are they talking about at the reunion party?
(This might come as a surprise but I haven’t actually played the epilogue yet 😭)
I’d like to think Tesni would go on a pilgrimage of sorts trying to reconnect with nature and her mentor’s Druidic teachings. After her personal quest, she becomes the chosen of Selûne, I think she’d try and reconnect with her Godess as well, after so many years apart. She also works with the council? Whoever’s in charge of Baldur’s Gate, after the whole mess with The Absolute, to help reconstruction efforts throughout the city.
And when that’s said and done she settles down, gets married to Astarion, and they live comfortably off of the significant amount of gold they found throughout their adventures. She researches cures for Astarion’s vampirism too (and for Karlach cuz I’m delusional and I refuse to accept that she dies or goes back to Avernus forever), I mean who better than a Druid to fix and otherwise permanent affliction lol 😌💅✨ Tesni and Astarion also have a daughter named Moon who is a sorcerer being trained in magic by Gale. 😜
Here’s a lil doodle of what her end game outfit looks like (it’s supposed to look like her mentor’s outfit but a little bit different) 🌝:
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#12: Does your Tav have any tattoos or scars? Why?
// TRIGGER WARNING: I’m gonna talk a little bit about self-harm so if you struggle with self-harm I just want to warn you now before you read!! It’s not too serious but I want to make sure everyone stays comfortable!! //
Tesni has a variety of scars, a lot of them stem from her background as a Druid. Scars from animals, from when she was a kid running around in the woods, and one time she got shot in the shoulder by a magic arrow (I’m not gonna name names but we can all guess who missed mid battle 😒🦇) She also has panther spots, because I thought it would be cool, but also because her main wildshape animal is a panther.
Her other scars come from periods in her life where she felt hopeless or otherwise in bad straights. A little tidbit into her lore, when Tesni was young she had quite a few of her close family and friends pass away (in unfortunate ways). She’s always blamed herself for not being smart enough, brave enough, or strong enough to stop the circumstances leading up to their deaths (a part of why Tesni had a difficult relationship with her patron, Selûne. Tesni partly blames the gods, mainly Selûne, for not stepping in. Tesni’s mother was also a Selûnite, and when she died, Tesni’s inner conflict as well as her conflict with the Gods spiraled downwards from there).
Tesni spent a lot of her adolescence on the streets scrounging for food and money, many of those nights, she went cold or hungry. Eventually she became numb to her own comfort, and took jobs no one else would, leading into her being kidnapped by Mindflayers at the beginning of Bg3. That’s why Tesni wears sleeves on her arms, to hide her scars. Partly because she doesn’t want people to pity her, partly because she still feels their sting, and hiding them helps her move past those memories.
Eventually Tesni comes to the realization that beyond her numbness, she cares and feels deeply for the world and the people that live in it. After Act 1, she decides to start her healing journey, she becomes more honest with her companions and in turn they help her heal from her tumultuous past. Over time as Tesni heals, she mends her relationship with Selûne and eventually becomes her chosen.
Here’s a doodle of her without her sleeves:
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Oof that was a lot of writing thank you for bearing with me lol 😪
And thank you again for responding!! I super appreciate it!! 🥹💖
✨✨✨✨✨
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many-but-one · 24 hours
Text
This is a poem written by Dorian nearly couple years ago now. He never ended up posting it because he intended to post the audio with it but we never finished captioning the audio. Going through our drafts, we found it. Since we’re on a poetry sharing kick tonight, I’ll post it now. This poem should probably be updated eventually since Dori knows more now, but we will keep it as-is for now.
Written by Dori:
I want to note that this poem is HEAVILY inspired by a slam poem by Patrick Roche. He came up with the idea of moving backwards in the timeline, which I felt was just...genius. Especially in the realm of DID, where if you know at the first age you have DID, you know it will only get progressively worse. And in my case, things do get worse, but then you get to see the real things that were believed back then. I discussed this poem with several parts in our system, not only asking for their help, but also asking if it was okay for me to share.
Lastly, here are the trigger warnings. This poem is HEAVY. It is graphic, it alludes and blatantly states some very disturbing things. I am tired of being silent.
TW: Alcohol, CSA, adulthood/teen SA, intense religious imagery, blasphemy, unalive attempt, drugs/pills, medical/hospital/doctors, self harm, domestic violence, parents, violence in general, car crashes, AFAB menstruation, neglect, death of a family member, a lot of cursing, BIG mentions of grooming from the POV of the child, brief mentions of abortions.
Haha. The gods really put every single TW they could think of in my life huh. Realizing that my entire life is essentially a trigger warning is 😅 Oof.
Anyway, here is the poem. Read with caution.
24 years and counting.
24, going on 25. I wake up each morning not knowing who I am and this is normal now. I have realized that this will be my normal forever, or at least until I process the layers upon layers of trauma, hidden underneath layers and layers of amnesia that I slowly peel back like onion skins, each layer getting more and more terrifying, more and more worrisome. The deeper I dig into this hole of unknown the harder my heart beats, and I realize my heart beats like a war drum. I have always been at war, with myself, with this body of mine. Of ours. 
Mid 24, I come to terms with a diagnosis called DID. I start to learn more about the different versions of myself, where they all intersect, where it melds together and where it stands apart. I think I know everything but 24 going on 25 version of me laughs at how naive I am. Perhaps 25 year old me will laugh at 24 going on 25 me. Maybe I’ll realize the depths of the hell I crawled out of called childhood was worse than I know even now. I don’t look forward to it. 
Early 24, I got married this year, my wife married three of me, three of me love her dearly. Things feel right and good again, I feel like I am on a happy path. My brain makes about as much sense at it always has, but at least I somewhat understand the pieces of the puzzle I’ve been given. Or at least, so I thought. 
23, this year is a blur, the only thing that stands out is that I quit my job I’ve had for five years. I loved that job. I quit that job because one of my past abusers walked in with no warning, and the sirens in my head went off like there was a nuclear bomb incoming. I still tell myself he didn’t see me but I know I’m lying to myself. I quit that very day and I realized that he still has control over me to this very day, 17 years after the trauma ended.
22, Two months before I am set to graduate college with my degree I get the diagnosis that changes my life. Not that my life is any different afterwards, at least not yet, so I try to continue forward regardless. How badly I wish to return to this moment and take my own face in my hands and look myself deep in the eyes and tell the 22 year old me that they have a storm coming. I think I already know, despite not really knowing, because I find myself getting drunk after work almost every night. I hide the bottles from my fiancée. I don’t want her to think I am my father.
21, I am old enough to drink! I barely drink. Every time I drink and it tastes too much like alcohol I am reminded of my father’s breath. I...don't know why. I stick to fruity drinks that taste good so that I can stop feeling things. Maybe I really am my father’s daughter. 
20, I finally start making friends in college, which is strange. Some people talk to me and I’ve never met them before, but they act like we’ve been friends since forever. Sometimes I attend lectures and I don’t remember what they are about. Sometimes I ask questions and I can hear my voice speaking and feel my mouth moving and I don’t know what I am saying. This is normal. The competent version of me sometimes does stuff when I get overwhelmed, that’s normal. That’s always happened! Everyone does that, right?
19, I wake up on the floor of my mother’s bathroom one afternoon, I smell my own stench I have been rotting in, I peek my eyes open and see pill bottles all around me, but no pills to be seen. The burn of bile on my throat and in my mouth makes me gag. I look in the toilet and see the pills. I won’t remember this moment until I am 24. I will learn it was not me that tried to kill themselves. I will also learn it was not me that saved me.
18, I have my first of many mental hospital stays. The doctors watch me stare at the other kids in the ward, nearly catatonic. They said they’d never seen a patient that never smiled. “Most kids get out of here within a couple of days!” They assured my mother and I. Two weeks later and I am still rotting on the plastic bedsheets. I lie and tell them I’m okay but I am not okay, I just want to live a life that involves shoelaces and doesn’t have nurses yelling at me to brush my teeth. I go back to school like nothing happened and almost all of my friends are gone. They never really cared.
18, pre-mental hospital, I am dating a boy that I don’t love. I am dating him because that’s what girls do even though I am not a girl. He is my best friend and it just seemed right. I really only dated him because sometimes I felt like I really loved him, but most of the time his lips on mine and his hands on my waist felt wrong. Something in my head feels like it’s buzzing like a beehive every time I go to his apartment. It’s almost like a spidey sense, except I ignore it and when I find myself back home, I don’t remember anything that happened at his house, nor how I ended up back home. I don’t think about it too hard. 
17, My dad punched a wall again. He screamed until I cried again. I can’t do this anymore, I can’t do this anymore. I hurt myself with sharp objects because it feels like that’s what I’m supposed to do. I never feel the pain, I only ever clean up the mess. I try to make myself as ugly as possible. To me(?) it makes sense. Obviously, if I am hideous, people will leave me alone. They won’t hurt me anymore, right? ...right? 
17, suddenly an angry version of myself appears and I realize I am SICK and TIRED of mistreatment. I fight back, I fight back with teeth and claws and words that are even sharper than both of those combined. I don’t remember these times very well. I certainly don’t remember the time this angry version of me YANKED the largest knife out of the butcher block and threatened the very man who ruined my life with it. I LOVE this version of myself. She’s intensity, with veins full of gasoline, ready and waiting for someone to ignite her. She bares her teeth in a grin and laughs, she says “I dare you, set me aflame, I will burn you with me.” Thanks, Alice. 
16, I nearly crash my car while I’m zoned out. Haha! I always zone out. Sometimes I zone out so hard that I forget big chunks of time, but everyone does that! 
15, my friend shows me his self harm scars and is trying to gain sympathy but I have none to give. I wonder if maybe doing the same will help me learn to have sympathy. Thus starts an addiction to pain that lasts for nearly a decade. 
14, I don’t remember this year very well but someone does. 
13, I started my period and I was told that I’m just a late bloomer. Everyone always said I was a late bloomer since forever. I didn’t hit my growth spurt until I was 14 either, and I didn’t stop wetting the bed until I was 9. Weird, but I didn’t put that much thought into it.
12, I wrote a detailed story that I no longer have a single copy of that talks about the structure of my inner world. Traces of the DID that I can actually remember. I don’t remember most of this year because I wasn’t the one who lived it.
11, My dad is neglecting me to party with his girlfriend. The one who lives some of next year lives this year too. Too much going on for fragile little me, someone stronger has to deal with this mess. She does. 
10, My brother died this year and this is the exact moment I stopped caring about God. Everything he ever gave to me he took away. I won’t understand the heaviness of such a statement for another decade and a half. This is when my depression started and when I lost my faith in humanity. I thought I gained it back for a while but I never did. I also stopped crying. Nobody heard me anyway. Someone in my head did it for me.
9, I don’t remember this year and I don’t want to.
8, I don’t remember this year and I don’t want to.
7, I am remembering this year and I don’t want to.
7, I am remembering this year and I don’t want to. 
7, I am remembering this year and I don’t want to.
7, I am remembering this year and it is the year that I well and truly shattered, the year I learned of the depravity of men, the year I learned that I was just holes to fuck, an actress in a sick film, a faerie, a demon, a screaming little cunt, and that’s all I would ever be seen as. This is the year I learned why I liked demons more than angels, and why God was my enemy. This is the year I realized for real that I was alone in this cruel fucking world and no amount of crying or talking or begging will ever make them hear me. They smile and laugh. They smile and laugh. They smile and laugh. :) 
6, late stages, My Sunday school teacher is so nice to me! He has a fun secret that only him and I share! I love him, he takes good care of me. He makes me feel good and special inside. I think deep down…I know it’s not okay. But I can’t help it. Actually, I am really scared because I see the way he looks at me and I feel queasy. I know this is wrong but I am scared he’ll hurt me if I say no. He said that God will tell him if I tell anyone what he does, and if God knows I am bad then I will go to hell. I don’t want to go to hell!! I’ll do whatever you say! I promise. I’m a good little girl. I’m an angel! 
6, early stages, my mommy and daddy broke up. They are fighting in court for me, and I don’t really know what that means. Mommy said the church is helping dad pay for good lawyers so she probably won’t get custody of me. I don’t know what that means. Mommy says daddy is bad and evil. Daddy says mommy is bad and evil. I don’t know who is telling the truth. Or maybe they both are. Or maybe I am the bad and evil one?
5, My dad visits me every night and calls me his little angel. :) I am his sweet angel! His breath smells funny though. And his fingers hurt me a lot, and I don’t like the way he tastes. But he said since I am a good angel it’s okay, so he must be right. 
4, Daddy and mommy fight a lot, my daddy has bottles in his hands a lot. He breaks them a lot. He hits mommy a lot. I am scared so I go hide. I am a being of terror. 
3, I am a toddler but there’s a version of me that remembers that he started existing at this age. He did everything he could to protect me. Even though he didn’t really know why. Thank you, Deimos.
2,
1,
0. I am just a twinkle in my mother’s eye, she’s just a teen and she’s scared out of her mind. This baby is saving her life, though. She didn’t want to keep going but now she has to. If only she knew that 25 years from now this baby would be a shattered and broken mess of themself, because of things desperately out of their control. They were just a baby. You failed them. They all failed them. They all failed US. Too bad you were a Christian. Maybe instead we could have been aborted. Or, rather, maybe we wouldn’t have step foot in that fucking church in the first place.
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allwaswell16 · 10 months
Note
Hi! What ongoing fics are you currently following??
oof, I've been so busy lately that I haven't had a chance to really follow any but here are some I know about! And if anyone else has more, please reply with some others!
you are my destiny (you are the reason that i still believe) by @alwaysxlarrie
Being a new employee at a company means that you have to learn to brush off the shitty bosses, shitty coworkers, and not getting the credit you actually deserve for things. At least, that's been Harry Styles' experience. Coworkers who steal his ideas in pursuit of getting praise and a raise, and a boss who's indifferent at best and condescending at worst. Harry has learned to expect this reality for the foreseeable future. He's accepted it.
What he hadn't expected was for Louis Tomlinson to waltz into their company, and his life, and change around everything he thought he knew about fate.
A Cinderella AU.
Of Hangovers and Hell by @unreadablehandle
Harry is not exactly a loves-social-gatherings guy. So when Niall talks him into going to a party, one during which Harry somehow ends up in a room of no other than the pretentious athlete Louis Tomlinson... shit goes down.
(very loosely) inspired by that one selfie, you know which one
The Habit I Can't Break by @cyantific
While searching for a healthy alternative to fill the void that one habit left, Louis gets hooked on something and someone totally different. This new experience pushes him way out of his comfort zone, making Louis realize he’s capable of so much more than he could’ve ever imagined.
Or… The one where Louis quits smoking and tries to get healthy, and Harry is the fitness instructor who helps him achieve those goals while making him sweat in and out of the gym. In which Harry and Louis still meet at bootcamp, just not the one you’re thinking of.
Featuring Lottie as the supportive sister who drags her brother to bootcamp class, Louis as the grumpy (and very recent) ex-smoker, and Harry as the instructor with exhausting amounts of enthusiasm and one obnoxious pair of yellow trainers.
real love (ain't that something rare?) by roguesue / @theroguesue
Louis Tomlinson has been taught to appreciate life for the little things, to never take anything for granted and to always enjoy the things you have, no matter how little or insignificant they may appear to be. But when his mum marries a rich man, he’s suddenly thrust into a life he’s always hated.
He is determined to keep hating the life he's loathed since he was little, but everything changes when he meets a rich spoiled brat named Harry Styles, who as it turns out, has the power to more than change his mindset.
You, Me, (and everyone we know) by Imogenlee / @imogenleefic
Rockstar Harry Styles has been making headlines since he was barely legal. After a string of bad decisions, PR nightmares, and an obvious inability to take anything seriously, management and his other band members insist he needs a full-time, live-in personal assistant. After hiring and firing half of the executive PA's in the city, the boys stumble across one that might be able to put up with Harry's shit.
Applicant: Name: Louis Tomlinson. Qualifications: None. Experience: Two weeks. Why did you leave your last job: Boss was a wanker. Past Employer Referee: Absolutely not. What made you apply: I didn't. Why the fuck are you idiots making me fill this form out after you forced me to take the job?
Save Me (from myself) by Imogenlee / @imogenleefic
The problem with being friends with Liam Payne was that he had a lot of friends... and forced them to be around each other. When they finished high school, both Louis and Harry were equally relieved that they wouldn't have to tolerate each other constantly or whatever it was that they did.
For five years, it worked out perfectly. They'd only had to see each other a handful of times.
Unfortunately, Liam had to go and get engaged, ask them to both be groomsmen, and then go full groomzilla on their arses. With just twelve weeks to plan the 'perfect' destination wedding and throw every ridiculous pre-wedding celebration Liam and his fiancée stumble across, it was safe to say they were firmly back in each other's lives.
And no one could have predicted that was exactly what they needed.
Give Me Your Forever by twinflamelarry / @twinflamebreeze
Being born without any superpowers is about as normal as life gets, that is unless you are growing up in an academy full of kids with supernatural powers. That's Louis' life, being the ordinary one. These kids and this stringent academy are all he has known in the name of family and home. Eighteen bittersweet years, some friendships and a tragedy later, the academy falls apart, leaving everyone with the only option of moving on. And Louis does so, all in the hopes of leaving the past and that particular curly haired boy behind.
What happens when all of them return under the same old roof after seven years? The answer is, definitely not a happy family reunion. Louis could prepare for all of it; bitter family members, traumas of the past, old love and whatever life-altering secrets that will unravel during this visit, but how does one prepare for... possibly the end of the fucking world as we know it?
Or an Umbrella Academy AU with a good portion of gay romance.
it's you by harryanthus_annuus / @harryanthus-annuus
A threat clouds the success of Marcel Cox’s 2022 World Tour. In the final hour of desperation, his team sets out in search for a double. Only too happy to have someone else take the figurative bullet for him, Marcel makes sure this ‘Harry Styles’ bloke finds his list of assignments ample — including wining and dining his much-loathed PR boyfriend, Louis Tomlinson.
Calm after the Storm by Darling28 / @darling-28
Louis and Harry have been best friends since childhood and lovers since they were 15. They can't imagine their lives without each other and yet that's exactly what they both have to cope with when Harry is allowed to do a year's internship abroad. Both initially believe they can manage it but everything suddenly crumbles and neither of them knows how to hold on to the other.
While Harry suddenly has a rising career ahead of him, Louis slips into an abusive relationship after their break up without realising it.
But what happens when Harry comes back and stands in front of Louis again after years of separation? And how do you deal with it when you still love the other person as much as you did from the beginning?
I've Got Demons, You've Got Scars by @mission2feelike
Harry’s life has been ruined twice. Once, the first time his alpha raised his fist four years ago, and then again today when his job discovered that he is an omega in a world where omegas, especially bonded omegas, have no rights. Now, he’s stuck trying to figure out how he’s going to take care of his four-year-old daughter, Mia. Just when it’s looking completely hopeless, a possible job arises. Someone is looking for an omega to help an alpha in need. The only problem is that the alpha has been diagnosed with Alpha Rage, a crippling disease that causes an alpha to become feral, making them succumb to their most instinctual, primal versions of themselves.
A story of an omega that’s been broken, an alpha that can’t trust himself, and their unlikely relationship.
Lovingly known as 'The Feral Louis Fic'.
Unrequited by babyhoneyhslt / @babyhoneyheslt
Omega Prince Harry of England has been engaged to Prince Louis of France ever since he was a young boy. Having met him at four and forming a bond, Harry is upset to find that Louis no longer treats him like a friend, instead treating him coldly.
However, Louis has his own dark secrets and Harry doesn’t know just how many dangers linger in French Court.
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helznik · 2 years
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1D Fic Rec: May to July 2022
Here's what I've read and liked over the last two months! Even if I wasn't able to leave a comment, I appreciate every single fic and author here SO MUCH✨
Friendly reminder to read tags and warnings carefully. Not all of them are listed here. And if you enjoyed a fic, please let the authors know through kudos, comments, and reblogs of fic posts!
Favorite Fic: A Certain Satisfaction by delsicle (@eeveelou) and creamcoffeelou (@creamcoffeelou)
Larry | 52K | Explicit | AU - 1960s, Porn Star Louis, Director Harry, Age Difference, Homophobia, Brief Louis/OC (see A/N), Smut
There's my life before this fic, and now my life after. It's very, very rare that I read a story and immediately need to scream about it to multiple people. The details of the time period, Harry's outfits, the OCs, found family (!!!) and slow burn... chef's fucking kiss. I'm going to hope I forget enough so that I can read it again later and still be as shocked, but I doubt I will. It's just that good.
(The header was inspired by this fic!)
Favorite Series: Ace Drag Queen Louis by musketrois (@musketrois) (Part 1 & Part 2)
Larry | 17K | Not Rated | AU, Asexual Louis, Drag Queen Louis, Photographer Harry, Anxiety, Self-Doubt, NYC
So much thought and care went into this series, and it shows. This Louis is one of the most unique characters I've had the pleasure of coming across. I adored the development of Harry's relationship with Louis (and Rogue). Looking at 'complete' on the series page brings a tear to my eye tbh 🥰
Read more:
Most Read Author: crimsontheory (@ireallysawanangel) 😌
In Four Colours: Larry | 59K | Explicit | AU, Older Larry, Divorced Harry, Dad Harry, Silver Fox Louis, Travel/Location Fic, Smut
The ending to this made me reach for tissues. I'll be thinking about the kitchen for a while.
My Saddle's Waiting: Larry | 6K | Explicit | AU, Texting, Smut
Somehow made the whole 'oops, wrong number' thing so HOT.
Found My Hallelujah: Larry | 35K | Explicit | AU - Cruise Ship, Bartender Louis, Travel/Location Fic, Cheating (Harry/OMC), Abusive Ex, Hurt/Comfort, Smut
Listen, I hated Harry's ex in this one sdhfdsf but everything else was fantastic. Their trip was so fun and interesting from start to finish. Please, author, may I have an update?
Couldn't Dream This Up: Marcel/Louis | 16K | Explicit | AU, Texting, Phone Calls, Online Relationship, Smut
The lotion part made me seriously LOL. One of the funniest things I've ever read in a fic. This Marcel is such a sweetie, and the pictures they sent each other... oh.
~~~
If I was a bluebird by lunarheslwt (@lunarheslwt): Larry | 3K | General | Canon Related, Established Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Harry's House era
It's not often that I read canon-related fics. This one is incredibly special, and I'm so glad that I took the leap. All the feelings!!!
Moths and Butterflies by LadyAJ_13 (@ladyaj-13): Larry | 1.3K | General | AU, Pride, Closeted Louis, Drag Queen Harry, Coming Out
So tender, so quiet yet... loud? Their instant connection made me weak. What an incredible fic that was posted in time for Pride Month, but can be read whenever. Very glad I came across it.
Watermelon! by cherrylarry (@beelou): Larry | 600 | General | AU, Fluff, Mpreg, Pregnant Harry, Established Relationship
Oof, I can't remember the last time I read mpreg and that's... a shame. Harry was so cute here. "Get the biggest one" but you married Louis 🥺
know you better by wabadabadaba (@wabadabadaba): Marcel/Louis | 21K | Teen And Up | AU, Strangers to Lovers, Tattoo Artist Louis, Data Analyst Marcel, Mild Smut, Domestic Fluff
Marcel my guy, you're a mess, but I can definitely relate! Loved the relationship that grew between these two. How many tattoos is he going to end up with? no wait, don't tell me. Just show me :D
All Out of Love by SunTomato (@sun-tomato): Larry, Ziam | General | 33K | AU, Human Louis, Human Ziam, Cupid Harry, Cupid Niall, Friendships, Happy Ending
Just beautiful and heartwarming. I want this story as a movie. The way their magic was described, and the 'everyday moments' embedded in the plot, will stick with me forever.
Love Mends the Pain by justalarryblog (@justalarryblog): Marcel/Louis | 12K | Explicit | AU - Fashion & Models, Journalist Louis, Model Harry, Harry is Marcel, Angst, Bullying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Smut
A twist on the bet trope in this one. It made the ending emotional and realistic, love when characters finally get their shit together hahaha. Marcel was so! Agh, I'm soft!
Spring Break by allwaswell16 (@allwaswell16): Larry | 500 | Not Rated | AU - College/University, Spring Break, Alcohol, Part of @1dgreysweatpants
Such a cheeky snapshot of a universe that I would love to return to. Every single word counted and made me feel like I was really there!
~~~
(Note: this list excludes any fics that I may have accidentally overlooked, are currently anonymous or older fics with inactive authors, etc.)
Image from Unsplash
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parts-of-spop · 3 years
Text
Home
In which Catra keeps a very important promise...
A short story in which two life-long loves come back together. They’re old and content with decades of happiness between them but nothing stops the sands of time. Not even She-ra.
Warning: Major Character Death (but it’s soft)
If you really want to hurt, I was listening to this as I was writing it and you should listen too. I was in a sad mood. I cried. It was cathartic. 
 Catra, better than anybody, knows that nothing lasts forever.
But what is forever?
What defines something so vast and blatantly unfathomable?
Just maybe the phrase ‘nothing lasts forever’ wasn’t actually what she’d thought.
But then, she’s never been very good at admitting she was wrong.
Especially not now.
Not laying next to her wife and watching her laboured breaths as she sleeps.
Her hand strokes a lock of white hair back out of the most beautiful face she has ever and will ever know. It’s one dotted with soft wrinkles and crows feet from decades of laughter and a lifetime of worrying and pale scars are scattered across her skin like delicate brushstrokes.
She’s flawless.
Catra takes her in for the millionth time, meticulously mapping the contours of her face that show not just her history but theirs.
She has loved this woman for as long as she can remember.
She lifts the hand in her own to her lips and kisses the back of it.
The skin is thin and fragile but by now that’s familiar.
Not even She-ra can stop a person growing old.
And that’s what they are.
They’re old.
They’re old and it was only a matter of time, of wondering who would go first in this era of peace, and Catra had never dared to consider that it might be Adora.
But then one day, Adora had started wheezing her breaths and struggling with staircases and sleeping longer and longer.
And Catra had known.
She had known and instead of saying anything, she had supported her in every way she could think to do so. She had given her tender smiles and gentle kisses and helped her in every way possible and most importantly, Adora had let her… because she knew too.
And now they’re here. The two of them, Catra perched on the edge of their bed, kissing her hand and watching Adora sleep, surrounded by their friends standing silent vigil over them.
It seems terribly ironic that the strongest of them is the first one to go.
Then Adora stirs, blinking awake sleepily and when her gaze lands on Catra, her mouth curls into a tired and stunning smile.
“Hello, love,” She says softly and Catra smiles back at her, watery and adoring.
“Hey, Adora…” She replies just as quietly and beautiful baby blues glisten, welling with tears.
“I’m going to miss you…” She whispers, ever so soft and ever so honest, and Catra feels her heart break. Then she presses another lingering kiss to that perfect hand in hers and lets her tears fall onto the soft, pale skin.
“Wait for me… I’ll come to you…” She says, holding soft, sad eyes with her own.
Adora smiles back at her and her eyes twinkle with unabashed affection.
“Promise?” She murmurs and Catra leans in and gently kisses her. She kisses the lips she has grown ever so familiar with and when she pulls back, they’re both smiling wider.
“Promise…” She replies with every ounce of love in her body and then she gently drapes herself over her first and only love and holds her as she drifts off to sleep.
She listens to her breathe.
She listens to her heart.
She feels her chest still.
She feels her heart do the same.
And then Adora is gone.
And life continues on.
Until it simply doesn’t.
Because Catra falls asleep the night after her wife’s funeral and when Glimmer goes to invite her to breakfast, she finds her curled up around Adora’s pillow, still and unbreathing beneath the blankets…
Peaceful…
She’s gone back home.
She’s always been good at keeping promises.
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marbleheavy · 2 years
Note
..more fic recs?
oof okay!! once again, feel free to reblog with any recs you have!!
can’t make this wrong when i see your face by @yrbeecharmer and then ofc the fic it’s inspired by do you need a little space to breathe by the love of my life @buoyantsaturn
and then ALSO cj’s new addition to the farm to table au not man nor demigod could put together the scraps
The Ballad of Landon Creek by @gatesofember is,,, it’s SO good
and then for the obligatory is-kinda-crack-but-is-really-good fic we’ve got Was anyone gonna tell me that my sword instructor was Nico di Angelo or was I supposed to watch him hug Percy Jackson and Jason Grace myself?
and i CANNOT believe i haven’t added this before but shake the glitter off your clothes by rosyredlipstick is just,, it’s fucking amazing!! (also, bc i’m a cj stan account, he also has a married in vegas au)
oh!! and angst with a happy ending is take your time, darlin’ by @thelordofshrimp (i kisth you)
and then because i’m an attention whore,, some of my own fics i think are pretty dandy are My heart has left it’s dwelling place (which is a post-break up getting back together au which ceej ALSO has so read that one too) and so it turns out teachers don’t sleep at school
i’m certain there are many more i have forgotten because i don’t bookmark fics as much as i should but!! once again, all of these authors are wonderful and i would rec all of their works so please check them out!! i also know that liz @solange-lol has some fic recs (and fics of their own you should def read like this one) and i think that ceejay is planning on making one sometime soon!! also, today is the first day of the @solangeloweek december event so keep an eye out for new stuff from that!! i myself have a couple of fics planned and i know many others that do too!
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hispipsqueak · 2 years
Note
Can I request a part two “Just One Time” like what y/n and asahi’s life would be like and maybe with a kid?
AFTER A LONG TIME (AND MANY REWRITES) I wrote the sequel to Just One Time. I hope you like it! <3 TW: KINDA DARK CONTENT: dubcon/noncon elements, kind of an unhealthy relationship, degradation, mean asahi, their kid is cute tho
I'm so tired guys and I didn't proof this so I'm sorry if it's a mess. <3 Pip
It had been 5 years.
5 years since you had told Asahi you were pregnant and things had definitely changed.
Following the aftermath, the two of you moved into a new home together. His divorce was finalized relatively quickly, and soon enough you did fall pregnant, allowing your ruse to continue seamlessly. You were married, a quick, quiet ceremony and you gave birth to your child a few months later.
Now, you had a four year old boy, Haru, who took up your whole world.
Asahi, for what it was worth, dedicated his life to being a good father, though the circumstances weren’t ideal. Rumors of his affair led to a huge dip in his business, but he was still quietly successful. And you, you took this time to grow up a lot.
“Mama, good morning!”, the soft voice of your son woke you up. You blearily opened your eyes and smiled at him. His eyes were bright and inquisitive and his dark hair fell in soft curls around his head.
“Mornin’ pumpkin. Why are you up so early?”
Asahi stirred next to you, wrapping an arm around your waist and smiling.
“Morning my loves.” His scratchy morning voice made you flush and you pressed closer to him.
“Daddy!”
At the sound of your husband’s voice, Haru jumped up wrapping his chubby arms around Asahi’s neck. You heard a soft “oof” from your husband and the two of them giggled as Asahi tickled at him.
“I guess that’s my cue to make breakfast for my boys, huh?” You stretched and slid out of bed. As you reached the doorframe, you turned back, watching the two laugh as your son explained his dream about superheroes and mountains, no doubt inspired from his uncle Nishinoya’s adventures.
You turned away, your heart tugging.
Five years was a long time to keep a secret.
The person before, the woman who broke up a marriage, who lied to get what she wanted...who was she? That materialistic girl, the one that didn’t care what stood in her way.
Sometimes it disgusted you of how you used to be. Sure, his previous marriage wasn’t healthy and you weren’t SOLELY at fault, but what ate you up inside, what kept you up at night, had nothing to do with that.
Instead, you wondered if Asahi would have chosen you, had you not been “pregnant” with his child. That conversation before, where you knew he was planning to end it, well that really gave you all the proof you needed, didn’t it?
He never would have chosen you.
“Sweetheart?”
Asahi’s voice snapped you from your insecurities.
“Yeah! Sorry, just waking up still. Breakfast should be ready in just a few minutes!”
-----
Asahi squinted through his glasses. He sketched out a few more details on his workbook, and yawned, his eyes falling on the picture he kept on his desk. It was a drawing from Haru, surprisingly talented for his age. Three stick figures labeled “Mama, Daddy, Haru” in front of a heart. He grinned. Truthfully, he never expected his life to turn out like this. Being a father, especially at his age, was challenging. The circumstances certainly weren’t something he was proud of.
Now he had his family. His beautiful wife that loved him, his sweet child. That was what mattered.
“Hey.”
He looked up. You stood at the doorway, your arms wrapped around yourself.
“Dinner’s ready.”
Asahi closed his sketchbook, motioning you over to him.
“C’mere first.”
He tugged you onto his lap, taking off his glasses and resting his head against your chest. He could hear your heartbeat, and idly wrapped his hands around you. Your fingers ran through his dark hair, pushing loose strands behind his ears.
“I love you.”
His voice was muffled and you tucked your chin to rest on top of his head. After a brief silence that lasted a little too long, you responded.
“I love you too.”
-----
That night, you stared at the ceiling. You could hear your husband’s soft breathing as he slept soundly next to you and you turned to look at him.
He was beautiful, his features practically built by the gods, even in his age.
Tears threatened to fall from your eyes and you blinked them back.
----
The next day, you were exhausted from the lack of sleep. Haru had decided to stay with friends for the day, which you were grateful for, as you had no energy to do much of anything. Sipping at your third coffee of the day, you stared into space, thoughts spinning in your head. Suddenly, your husband’s arms wrapped around you.
“Haru decided to stay the night over there, so we have the whole place to ourselves.” Asahi chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “We can go get dinner if you like, or order something and stay in.”
He felt your body tense under his grip and he sat across from you.
“Either is fine with me love.” You smiled over your mug, though it didn’t meet your eyes. He reached across the table, wrapping his hand over yours.
“Hey.”
You met his gaze, and the build up in your body came too much. Without thinking, your eyes began to water. His face fell and he pulled you into a tight embrace.
“Hey, hey! Darling, what’s wrong?”
The sound of his concerned voice crushed you and you felt like simultaneously throwing up and disappearing into the floor.
“Shh, shh…please Y/N, tell me what’s going on.”
Pulling away, you swallowed, attempting to catch your breath.
“Asahi...I need to tell you something.” He was silent and you really had no choice at this point but to continue. “I…”
Your voice cracked, and you swallowed hard before spilling out the entire story.
The room was silent when you finished, a silence that seemed to crush you more the longer it continued.
“You lied to me.”
Asahi’s eyes were transfixed on yours, practically boring into your soul. You turned to look anywhere else.
“No. Fucking look at me. I deserve that at least, don't I?”
His voice was hard, a drastic change from the soft-spoken man from before. Stunned, you looked up at him, your breath catching in your throat. His demeanor had changed completely and he slammed his hand on the table, causing the mug of coffee to spill to the floor. You jumped.
This was not the Asahi you knew.
“Wait, baby–”
“Don’t fucking ‘baby’ me. You spent this entire time doing what YOU wanted, caring about what would benefit you, not giving a fuck what happened to anyone else. You know, I’m so sick of people treating me like some fucking plaything. I spent years in a shitty marriage where I was treated like trash only to be used yet again.”
His words speared into you. Tears fell silently down your cheeks and you didn’t bother to wipe them away.
“Stand up.”
Obeying, you stood, albeit confused. Was he going to make you leave? He turned away from you, pulling his hair up as you stood silently.
“Asahi –”
“Shut the fuck up.”
Your mouth dropped, though you stayed silent. He stood over you and shoved your back into the wall, caging you in.
“Everyone spends so much fucking time telling me what to do, using me to benefit themselves. I believe it’s my goddamn time, don’t you think, darling?”
He said the last word in a mocking tone, dripping in disdain. Your heart was pounding so loud, you were surprised he couldn’t see it jumping out of your chest. This was terrifying, this was insane.
So why were you so turned on?
As if he could read your mind, he gazed down at your heated body, the way your clothes hugged at you, at the way your thighs pressed closer together.
“I fucking knew it. Getting fucking turned on? God, you really are nothing more than a whore.” He leaned down so his face was centimeters from yours. Gripping your face in his hand, so tightly it hurt, he glared at you. “Don’t get so eager. I’m doing this for MY benefit. You are here for my use. Do you fucking understand?”
Silently, you nodded. You felt the air leave your lungs as you trembled underneath your husband, anxious about what he would do to you. He wouldn’t...hurt you, would he?
Would you want him to?
Yanking at your shirt, he ripped the front of it down, the fabric shredding easily in his hands. You were completely exposed to him now, having foregone a bra in favor of comfort. His fingers squeezed and pawed at your tits harshly, causing you to let out an embarrassing squeal. Within moments, his other hand slammed against your throat, pinning your head to the wall. Tears sprang to your eyes from the lack of oxygen and you gasped.
“Didn’t I tell you to shut...the...fuck...up?” His voice was a growl and your mouth slammed closed. He paused, as if challenging you to make a noise. When you stayed silent, he smiled.
“Now that wasn’t so hard, was it, sweetheart?” The contrast of the endearing pet name to his sadistic eyes jarred you, but you had to see how far this would go.
Roughly, he shoved you to your knees, and you bit your lip to keep from wincing at the cold tile floor.
“Put that fucking mouth to use.” He growled above you, and with trembling hands, you pulled out his erect cock. Your hands were small against the thick shaft and you must have hesitated because you suddenly felt a harsh grip on your head.
“Are you that dumb you can’t follow instructions?”
You shook your head, wanting to protest, but thinking better of it. Taking the tip of his cock into your mouth, you savored the taste before he slammed into you, brutally fucking your face.
“Didn’t I tell you sweetheart? This is for –my–fucking–pleasure.” Each word was punctuated by an even deeper thrust down your throat and tears gathered across your eyes, blurring your vision. At this point, you were merely just a fleshlight and you tried to breathe through your nose as your lungs burned with little reprieve. The soft dark hairs at his base tickled at your cheeks as you hollowed your mouth, in a feeble attempt to maintain some sort of control. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he pulled out of your mouth. Strings of drool and precum connected your lips to his cock and you could feel your face wet with tears.
“Now you can feel just as fucking pathetic.” He muttered before shoving his cock back down your throat. You had no time to mull over his words before you were gagging around his length. You could feel the bulge in your throat and you widened your jaw, not wanting to find out what he would do if you accidentally grazed him with your teeth. His heavy balls slapped against your chin and you imagined how depraved you looked, barely being held up by the sheer momentum of him slamming into you.
He pulled out of your mouth before gripping your wrist harshly, and tugging your body back up. You were dizzy from the sudden oxygen intake and before you could catch your breath, he shoved you against the kitchen island. The marble countertop dug in painfully to your hip, causing you to let out a yelp. His hand slammed down on your back, pressing your front to the cold counter.
“You never fucking listen, do you? Can’t even do a simple fucking thing huh?” His hand worked up your spine, before digging into your head and pressing your face into the marble. Tugging off your shorts, your face flushed as your bottom half was exposed to the cold air. Asahi shoved two fingers into you, scissoring them harshly, a stark difference to his normal foreplay. You were grateful you were so wet already, and even still you gritted your teeth at his rough ministrations.
All too soon, he was against you, his drooling cock pressed against your entrance.
“You should be fucking grateful I’m not slamming into your ass.” His voice was hoarse and you could feel his hot breath against the back of your neck. His long hair brushed against your shoulders and you were transported to nights before, romantic soft lovemaking in your bed. You were jolted out of your thoughts by his cock slamming into you. You could practically feel him ripping into your insides, and he rutted into you mercilessly. His hand was still entangled in your locks, smashing your face against the countertop and you let out soft whimpers, forcing yourself to stay as quiet as possible.
“Fuck, this is all you’re good for huh, doll? Just a fucking cocksleeve for me.” Asahi’s breathing was labored as he rammed into you with fervor. You were raised on your toes, and with each thrust, you could feel your body lifting up onto the counter. The loss of control, the fact that you were essentially a ragdoll to him, caused your body to rush toward your impending high. Words babbled from your mouth, pleas and cries. You were too far gone to think about obeying or punishments and your moans filled the kitchen as his tip brushed against the walls of your cunt.
“Ple- Asah- nee’ t’cum.” You managed to cry out and he fucked you impossibly harder. His other hand wrapped around the back of your neck and he growled as he spilled into you. You whined out, as you felt your stomach drop and your juices exploded over his cock and spilled onto the counter. His softening cock slid out of you and he braced himself on the counter, panting hard.
Your legs were wobbly and you slid to the floor, dazed. Your eyes were closed and you felt a heavy presence next to you.
Asahi’s hair fell in front of his face as he stared at the space between the two of you. Slowly his hand reached for yours, and after a moment, you interlocked your fingers with his.
“I love you Y/N.”
“I love you too.”
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baby-dr1ver · 3 years
Note
hi bestieeeee I got inspired by your white dress imagine and I was wondering if you can write about the reader getting married to another man and chris stopping the wedding to profess his longtime love for her 🥺
bestie nonnie!! oof listen, im already sad so this is gonna be wild.
pairing: chris evans x bi!reader
rating/warnings: angst, omg so much angst, unrequited love, understanding spouse
join the sleep over
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Today was the day. The day you were finally getting married, finally starting a family. You truely couldn't be happier, right?
Your makeup had just got done, and now onto the dress. It was simple, not to flashy, wouldn't take away from your bride. Yes, your bride.
Finally ready, nervous as ever to walk down the isle. There was a naggin feeling in the back if your mind that you couldn't shake. Is this cold feet? No, no your not backing out, you love her.
You got down to the end of the isle, seeing your beautiful bride in her dress. "Hi" You whispered with glee. "Hi" She whispered back.
The preacher started the ceremony, saying all the things, you hoped and prayed he would speed it up.
"If anyone objects to this marriage speak now or forever hold your peace." Everyone looked around.
"Father I don't think-" Your bride started to say before the chapel doors were thrown open. You saw a very familiar figure at the end.
"I object!" Oh god, was he really doing this? Everyone gasped, including your bride. "What is he doing here?" She said to you.
"I don't know I didn't invite him! You know that!" You took a deep breathe in, and out. "Step up sir, tell us why" The preacher announced. Chris started walking towards before he stopped halfway.
"I object because, I'm in love with her. I made the worst mistake of my life a year ago by-by letting her go. I was so stupid because I was so in love with her. I have a ring an-and everything look!" He exclaimed as he took out his mothers ring. Your hand slapped over your mouth as tears sprung in your eyes. Chris finally stepped closer to the alter.
"Y/N please, you can't do this. I know, somewhere in there, you love me. Somewhere in there you wanted to marry me, and have a life with me, I know it." He sounded like he was out of breath.
"Chris I-" Your bride cut you off.
"Y/N, you love him, I know you do. And it's okay. I could tell from day one that you still loved him, I just hoped that you'd change your mind one day." She gave you a sad smile but kept going. "So what you need to do now is, go. Go with him, have the life you've alwasy wanted Y/N. I know that you loved me at one time, and I love you to I always will but. We just weren't made for each other huh?"
Tears were streaming down your face. "I ca-can't do that to you. It's not fair it's-"
"Hey it's okay, he is who you were meant to be with and that's okay." You put your forheads together, "I love you, I'm so sorry."
"I love you too" You both pulled away. You turned to the man you loved, and ran. He opened his arms for you to leap into, and you did. You could hear your family yelling in the background but, you didn't care.
Chris grabbed you by the back of your head and kissed you, that caused more yelling. You pulled away, out of air.
"I love you" "I love you"
You turned to look at you almost bride one more time, tears streaming down her face, giving you all her love.
"Wanna get out of here?" You looked to Chris
"Let's do this"
a/n: hit me right in the feels. so, i am done writing for the day! I will pick up where I left of tmr! love y’all
tags!: @white-wolf1940 @randomuser0917 @sea040561 @patzammit @chvntelle-99 @sebsbrokentoe
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bleulone · 3 years
Note
i love your analysis so much! i have a question as well, like, how do you envision polin's sex scenes ? thanks for your answer (:
    Hey! Thank you very much :)) I have no idea if they are that even good but I’m happy you like them. It’s just my brain tending to produce some iNsIGhiTfUL analyses though they usually end up drowned under a huge wave of stupidity and horrid spelling/grammatical mistakes XD. So, about Penelope and Colin’ sex scenes, I guess we’re getting spicy in this house 🌶. I mean, I don’t blame you. Who’s not hot for Polin ?! The steamy Polin hours have already begun and they’re legit challenging my patience. (Be still my Polin heart, be still).
   Okay, without further ado, let’s talk about sex baby, shall we ? It’s a pretty long answer/meta so bear with me.
    I don’t know if you’ve read Romancing Mister Bridgerton, but a quick reminder (for those who haven’t... yet), there are a bunch of iconic steamy scenes that I’m dying to watch on screen. First we have the famous “thank you” scene where Penelope, now a 28 year-old spinster, asks Colin to kiss her because she doesn’t want to die without having been kissed... then ends up thanking him— which happens to be humiliating for our 33 year-old boy because he thinks that she thinks he did it out of pity while he absolutely did not. The man definitely felt butterflies in his stomach... and in other places as well lol. We also have the ICONIC carriage scene where Colin gives Pen’s generous bosoms™ the attention they deserve. This is followed by his proposal. Later on, after the announcement of their engagement, there’s a pretty hot make-out scene on Lady Violet’s sofa. Finally, we have their first time in Colin’s bedroom, after sneaking out of their own engagement party... which leads Colin to push the wedding date forward. At this point, I just love their horniness, especially Colin’s who’s just so freaking amazed by Penelope for more than 300 pages straight (duh! who isn’t ???).
    When you say envision, I suppose you mainly refer to the way those scenes will be filmed right ? I’m afraid I don’t have an advanced knowledge in film-making but let me start by telling you what elements need to be depicted. I would love Shonda and Chris to capture the real essence of our boos’ feelings : the yearning, the love, the respect and the guilt (specifically on Colin’s side) in their eyes. The more we move forward throughout the seasons, the more we see different layers of the perceptions of they have of each other, going from a childish idealization/immature ignorance to a sudden realization. A mature one. Penelope goes beyond the facade of the charming devil-may-care guy to meet the seriousness and temper of her significant other. Meanwhile Colin discovers how confident, powerful and attractive this woman is and always has been. It echoes what I’ve written about the importance of the gaze in Polin’s love story in this meta. By the time season 4 hits, man... their heart eyes and eye-fucking will jump OUT XD, all fibers of their beings, burning with need. The fact that this evolution took literally years is very emotionally painful, which is why I find it important to keep the slowness aspect of their relationship before and during their love making. I’m really looking forward a slow build-up toward their intimacy. It would differ from Daphne and Simon who merely shared one hell of a kiss in Lady Trowbridge’s garden then shared their sexy times after they married or Anthony and Siena’s rough sex... In fact, there’s a certain (sweet) ardent tenderness in Polin I like due to the fact that they’re slowly (re)discovering each other, as adults. Since they were both introduced in season 1, the audience will have all the time in the world to notice numerous evidences of the many natures of love they have for one another : from an affectionate and friendly love to a more carnal and enduring one.
    Okay so, in terms of filming, with Netflix’s Bridgerton being a show which promotes the female gaze, it wouldn’t be that much of a surprise watching those sex scenes being shot from Penelope’s perspective, like it was the case with Daphne in the first installment of the series. Most of the time, sex scenes in Historical Romance are not gratuitous. Their presence serve an important purpose in a hero/heroine’s journey. In Penelope’s case, they’re here to help her learn to embrace and love herself. In other words, sexuality is synonym of freedom. I don’t know if they’ll show a lot of skin, but I won’t be complaining considering the fact that we’ll have the chance to get a chief kiss treat on screen : a plus size woman in a major successful Netflix period drama getting a love story as romantic and steamy as other more “fit” female characters. No, your weight doesn’t prevent you from being desirable at all. As far as I’m concerned, I haven’t watched a plus-size female character portrayed as an attractive protagonist in a period drama (please if you have, let me know, I can be wrong). Having a beautiful half bare curvy body like Nicola’s being equally filmed like numerous slim actresses will be so inspiring and powerful to watch, especially for (young) women who struggle, like Penelope, to love their body shape which, to them, doesn’t “fit” the “beauty standards”. By showing her female gaze and portraying her as seductive, Pen’s “supposed” imperfections transform themselves into mighty assets, loved and worshipped by our dashing Mister Bridgerton. That’s body positivity at its finest darling ;).
    It will be deliciously erotic watching the undressing process being exquisitely slow, garment by garment, while their gaze are all heated and hungry. Their sex/make-out scenes should be tender and passionate, sweet and raw. The lightning, colored by a dark blood orange yellow or a blue depending the locations^^. Moreover, the depiction of the exploration of Penelope’s desire can translate itself thanks to multiple close ups. For instance, I can imagine a few ones on Pen’s fingers gently roaming over the smooth skin of Colin’s firm chest and back/touching his hair right after he removed his shirt. And a disheveled Colin letting his hands and lips making a journey of their own, mapping, conquering the alluring unknown territory that is her gorgeous voluptuous body... kissing her on the places he knows oh too well will give her pleasure (is this me wanting him to go down on her?— um yeah I sure hope it IS! If he doesn’t, trust me imma riot... AGAIN). Even a close up on her face while Colin is performing his addictively pleasing torment will be a marvelous proof of the female gaze. By the way, why not even adding a post-coital scene after their first time ? I can picture Penelope waking up first and contemplate her handsome soon-to-be husband. She’d bring her hand to his face and let it travel all around his forehead, his cheeks, his lips, his neck and let it rest on his heart— making sure that what she’s just experience was real... obviously, Colin will wake up in the process and he’ll take this as his cue to go for another round of sexy times under the sheets.
   Showing Pen reaction is essential according to me because she was stuck with the idea that she would never experience the luxury of being loved, giving pleasure nor receiving it... she ended up being happily wrong. Throughout her multiple intimate encounters with Colin, I want her to progressively realizes that she can be an active partner. In the carriage, she knew she had an effect on him, but it’s not until their first time that she actually realizes it. Hence the reason why I WANT the mirror’s introduction in one of their sex scenes. Here’s as a little reminder an excerpt from chapter 18 :
“I want to see you sitting up," he groaned, "so I can see them full and lovely and large [about Pen’s breasts]. And then I want to crawl behind you and cup you." His lips found her ear and his voice dropped to a whisper. "And I want to do it in front of a mirror."
“Now?” she squeaked.
He seemed to consider that for a moment, then shook his head. "Later," he said, and then repeated it in a rather resolute tone. "Later.”
   It would be such a shame if the show doesn’t use the incredible potential of this object (/kink). I mean, the symbolism is pretty clear. Penelope has always fled her “ugly” reflection but it seems like Colin wants to show the real her, the beauty that holds every single inch her alabaster skin and the effects they have on him. Thus, I would love to watch a scene where Colin just praises the alluring goddess and siren that is Penelope Featherington. Just imagine! Just IMAGINE the power of this scene : a shirtless Colin sitting behind her on a bed, meeting her gaze in the mirror, his lips touching her right ear, biting and licking the lobe sometimes, whispering all kinda of dirty yet poetic words to her while letting his hands caress her thighs, her hips, her arms, her lovely bosoms™... oof. At the same time, a wonderful and harmonic instrumental music will play in the background and match the melodic partition of shudders, breathes and moans let out by our lovers. I can imagine Luke inspiring himself from his performance in the 2019 short film, Youth In Bed. The way he conveyed the awe and the yearning on his face, in his eyes with his mouth slightly open when he knelt before his partner Shun Yin was just captivating and— and so Colin! I cannot help but bring myself to picture Ethan, the character he played in YIB, in a Polin steamy scene. I cannot unsee this anymore jsksk. I mean, all this gifset radiates this book4chapter18!Colin, you cannot tell me otherwise!
    Also, I would love Shonda and Chris to keep Pen and Colin’s cute/emotional pillow talk. One thing I really love in JQ’s books is the concern she gives to her male protagonists about potentially hurting their partner during the act of penetration. Colin is a rake, and what his experience with women taught him is that he needs to be very gentle with the love of his life. It was so adorable seeing him not wanting to harm her and asking her to tell him if he does anything she doesn’t like 🥺. Plus, before actually doing it, Colin and Penelope shared a few kisses and just laid down side by side, confessing their love. Though our boy kept feeling guilty about not returning her love after all these years. He desires nothing but to make up for the lost time and show his love and desire during this special intimate moment. I hope they’ll keep all of chapter 18’s dialogue. It’s just so telling of our boos’ feelings, you see.
    All in all, I can’t wait to watch those Polin steamy scenes. As much as I may sound crazy, I want them after two other seasons of pure pining and yearning in order to have a very good payoff. I’m not an expert on depicting intimacy on screen, but I loved so far what Lizzy Talbot, the intimacy coordinator who worked on the show, have done in season 1. Sex scenes in Bridgerton seem very real and dive you in the intimacy of the moment, leaving you all flustered and hot. So probs to her! I have faith in her work and have no doubts about what her and the directors will serve us in future seasons. Though, in the end, I think it’s mostly up to the actors, Nicola and Luke, to see if they’re comfortable filming sex scenes.
    If you guys have any suggestions or wishes for those steamy polin scenes, please do share them :) by commenting on this post or by sending me asks! I’d love reading your thoughts/take on this very important matter ;)) 
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sitp-recs · 4 years
Note
hi to my favourite tumblr! could you please recommend me the most romantic drarry fics you’ve ever read 🥰 tysm 🙈
Hi darling 💗 oof this was quite a challenge because most of what I read includes some level of angst. So I went for a few titles among my usual soft & comfort reads. I’m aware that “romantic” means different things to different people, so I hope these work for you!
A world just for us by nerakrose (2019, General, 2k)
Harry and Draco go flying and then…continue to go flying.
He Whose Hand and Eye Are Gentle by khalulu (2017, General, 5k)
Draco reads poems and sometimes writes them. Harry receives poems and sometimes reads them. Rutherford delivers poems via the scenic route. Wombat snores. Eventually, all comes together, with help from the foxes in red bibs and the sumo referee.
Ice Snakes, Glow-worms and Wolverine Stew by khalulu (2015, Mature, 8.4k)
Harry Potter apparently wants to talk to Draco about something, but odd events keep getting in the way of that conversation – and bringing them closer together. Featuring serpentine travels, misbehaving birds, dubious roofing projects, a gay beach, and an unexpected matchmaker.
Life goes not backward by @shealwaysreads (2020, Teen and Up, 9k) - est relationship magic
Harry still isn’t used to gifts, but this one is different. A story of coming home, finding safe ground, and the wild courage of putting down roots. Leaving one life behind isn’t always a sacrifice, and sometimes the greatest good comes from embracing the people you love.
Along Came Potter by @huldrejenta (2016, Teen and Up, 9k)
Potter shows up at Draco’s flat. Then he shows up again, and again, and again.
Little Talks by @femmequixotic and noeon (2012, Explicit, 11k) - est relationship domesticity
Draco's been shagging the Head Auror for months now, and he's sure it's just a fling. Until Harry asks him to a Quidditch match, that is, and things go horribly wrong.
Nobody by @dorthyanndrarry (2019, Teen and Up, 12k) - a bit angsty but soft!
Junior Auror Potter runs errands, takes witness interviews, does paperwork, and gets the coffee. Rarely, very rarely, he's sent out on the most routine calls, such as when Draco Malfoy misses a meeting with his parole officer. (Inspired by the song Nobody by Mitski)
Kill, Fuck, Marry by @lettersbyelise (2018, Explicit, 12k)
Malfoy leans toward him with a baleful look. “I do believe Pansy Parkinson, my best friend, paid you to spend the evening with me. It’s my birthday, Potter. So you’re going to get off your Gryffindor arse, and you’re going to dance with me. I want to dance. I want to win. I want that bloody trophy on my shelf before the end of the night.”
Harry and Draco unexpectedly meet again on Draco’s birthday, years after their last encounter.
Shining, Like a Present by @bixgirl1 (2017, Explicit, 13k) - a kinky romance 😏
The discovery of a small silver box at the site of a case opens up new possibilities.
It's Friday (I'm in Love) by @punk-rock-yuppie (2018, Explicit, 16k)
At first, Draco only hangs out with them on Fridays after work; then he starts shagging Potter after pub nights. Then all the rest of the gang tries to befriend Draco and even worse, Potter tries to date him. It’s an absolute disaster, if you ask Draco. Or, Draco and Harry fall in love over the course of several Fridays and some other days of the week.
The Courting by the Pureblood Who Only Has Five Milligrams of Romantic Intelligence and Thinks He’s Real Smooth by @cibeewastaken (2020, Teen and Up, 19k)
Draco could grab Potter and shove him into a stall before proceeding to suck his soul out of his dick, but secretly, deep down, in the part of Draco that he will never admit to anyone, he is (everyone pauses to shudder) a romantic. Potter is not someone Draco wants a one-off with. Potter is — Draco’s beloved! So Draco decides to boldly go where no one has gone before: to put himself through scrutiny; their friends’ teasing and pranks; unsound romantic advice from a house-elf; wearing pretty clothes; all to try and win Potter’s heart through courtship.
(An unnamed ginger bastard can be heard yelling from afar: “This is actually a detailed guide on how not to court someone!”). But who cares about the opinions of redheads? Literally no one.
amid this warm and steady sweetness by warmfoothills (2019, Explicit, 21k) - period drama wooing! The best
Harry is not living in a period drama, no matter what his friends or his new house or Malfoy’s sudden affinity for horse-riding might suggest, and if one more person uses the word courting, he’s going to start hexing people.
With Great Yawns and Stretchings by sugar_screw (2016, Teen and Up, 22k) - coffee shop AU goodness
The coffee is very good. Really. And the cats are so cute. That's why Harry goes so often.
(You’re a) Revolution by @rockmarina (2019, Mature, 23k) - a bit angsty but soft!
Eight years after the end of the war, Draco Malfoy stumbles into Harry’s shop in the middle of a storm—no wand, no backstory; no signs of having lived in the country since the Battle of Hogwarts. During their first encounter, Harry promises Malfoy—and the words sound like an old mantra—that he'll figure out Draco's secrets eventually. And then he does. He does, except…it doesn't quite feel like a victory.
Against All Odds by momatu (2015, Explicit, 53k) - wooing by sightseeing!
Beauxbatons is hosting the first ever Quidditch Summer School for children from all over Europe, and Harry has promised to enroll Teddy as his birthday present. Meanwhile, Draco is stuck in his office, putting together the first ever Quidditch Summer School for children from all over Europe during, when he should be enjoying summer holidays.
Stately Homes of Wiltshire by waspabi (2016, Explicit, 57k) - magical houses romance
Malfoy Manor has mould, dry rot and an infestation of unusually historical poltergeists. Harry Potter is on the case.
Headlights in the Snow by Saras_Girl (2016, Mature, 70k) - odd jobs romance
What’s big and purple and smells like tea? Harry is about to find out.
Little Deaths and How to Avoid Them (or Draco Malfoy's Guide to Stop Dying and Start Living Instead) by dustmouth and nerakrose (2018, Teen and Up, 96k)
Malfoy is way too interested in coroner reports for somebody who's definitely not looking for ways to die, Harry wants to be friends with him, and Ginny wants to break up with Harry. Features: Little League Quidditch, an abundance of bath bombs, happy endings, and gay robots in space.
Soup-pocalypse and The Great Curry Cataclysm by SquadOfCats (2018, Explicit, 104k) - wooing by cooking!
Eleven years after the war, Draco Malfoy leads a quiet, boring, and perfectly respectable life, thanks very much. Or, at least he does, until a sudden and very unexpected veela awakening causes him to throw soup all over Harry Potter in the middle of the Ministry cafeteria.
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liveblog: kingsglaive final fantasy xv
some absolute king put the movie to the internet archive - thank you. of course, i hope i'm watching the right thing haha.
regis honestly just so -chefs kiss-
it's crazy how long the wall around Insomnia was up
love when the niffs fuck up a royal gathering
young ravus! love it
ravus yelling for regis to help them :(
wow this flashback is different than the one in the anime
luna's clothes are different
but the acitons are te same
so not that different
getting some lotr the two towers vibes from this battle scene and i'm here fo it
and i LOVE this dude's invisible power nice
nyx's voice sounds so familiar!
nyx: i'm worth the wait
loving him already
but i'm liking seeing the way all these warriors are interacting with each other. can definitely tell they've spent plenty of time in each other's pockets
oh the cerberus!! i really liked that entrance
oh wait, no, what fun daemon is this?????
in love with the way nyx is using the warp
now i can ask the question: where the fuck are they? clearly not in insomnia, unless this is set during noctis' rest? but it can't be since this is 12 yrs after lunafreya became a prisoner...
hm, it'll get explained to me
nyx is nothing without the king. please remember that nyx
hm, yes, we love king regis
an envoy from niflheim????
oh it's ardyn!!!!!
god, yes, yes, yes, we love ardyn
oh he's delicious i loe his grandstanding
oh he mentioned noctis, that's a no-no
oh??? ardyn proposed noctis and lunafreya to get married??
oh this is so fucking great wow thank you ardyn
hm so this one insomnia soldier doesn't like nyx, how nice
oh shit night life in insomnia??
whatever the music is is banging
i missed his name but the dude makes sense
but where did these kingsglaive soldiers come from if they're outsiders?
i love a strategic meeting
especially because of how you can see regis actually tremble from weakness
also, gotta say, it's amazing that regis has the strength to support the wall and the kingsglaive
hm regis accepted the truce
hm
who the hell is clarus?? i know who he is, but more like where is he, so who is he in regis' little posse
commencing operation: infiltrate tenebrae
lunafreya looks GREAT
oh hello ravus
"whatt you believe does not concern me"
god, knowing what i know about ravus, it must've hurt him hearing his own sister call him a lap dog to the empire
they have cartoons????
going back a bit, wonder what was up with the van that crow saw. bit suspicious
mm what a sexy car
i fucking KNEW it was an audi
"what good will you be without the king's magic?"
oh that IS clarus okay
yo they really just came in and said "we'll take lunafreya thanks"
hm.. i have suspicious feelings about lunafreya
like maybe she's ardyn??
"my duty is my destiny, your majesty. i'm prepared to accept whatever my come to pass"
goddamn
oh so crow's defintiely dead
i keep missing his name, but this dude is so torn up over crow's death he ripped off the kingsglaive insignia
hm, so the dude is going rougue, and wow, that was overheard by three other glaives
eve of the signing ceremony...
doesn't that mean that noctis and co have left already, actually?
yes, it must, because regis wanted freya to meet noctis
so, yes, the freya in insomnia is absolutely... not ardyn
hm
crutch dude has now joined a rebel group - i just hope he did some vetting and isn't about to talk to niffs
who is that general in the armor?? hm, interesting
oof nyx with that round bubble butt
lunafreya is missing, how nice and convenient when the treaty signing is about the happen
regis ordered the kingsglaive to go save lunafreya, nice
god, one of regis's last acts as king :(
"for hearth" "and home"
that's actually a nice call and response
god, i'd love to be a legilimens so i could read regis' thoughts. he must know what this is probably gonna be his last day on eos
the hoods are very asassin's creed and i like that inspiration
hm what fun whisper was that to the niff ambassador
oh wait that dude is the niff emperor my bad
hm, yes, we love double talk
mm sexy kills yes
god, yes, the game's afoot!
octopus in teh airship? kinky
we love traitors
oh wow the crystal has been deactivated :(
honestly though, humungous props to niflheim for diong this. like this is a BRILLIANT politcal move, it really is
yes we fucking love regis and clarus fighting together!!
"then let us once more into the fray, old friend"
WE ARE HERE FOR THAT!!!
so sad the outcome though :(
ouch, clarus!!
"we have broken the wall. all that remains is the break the city"
100% correct emperor
nyx is so exasperated by lunafreya
yeah this dude in the vest - like he thought he was gonna somehow be great under niff rule??
oh hello there ravus
ravus put on the ring and, hm, he wasn't found worhty
nyx is fighting the super souped up general
and it JUST occured to me that the reason why nyx sparks when he uses magic is because it's not his
so this is how luna got the ring okay
we love parallels
regis's last stand :(
:'(
oh so the crutch dude didn't do any vetting at all because he only found out that the other refugees were working with niflheim
slacking bro
but, now yo can do what you want and bring refugees into the city
idk why any one would that that niff would keep its word, but that's besides the point
hm, no airbags?
"true power is not something that is found by those who seek it. it is something that is found by those who deserve it."
crutch dude being called 'hero' = irony
haha this traitor put the ring on, idiot.
though lunafreya baited him a bit but i support that
wow this ring got passed around like a hot potato
I WANT TO KNOW THE CONVERSATINO IGNIS HAD WITH THE LUCII KINGS!!!!!!!
nyx has been found wothy - until dawn
crutch dude's name is libertus
libertus threw away the pills, good job!
oh ehll yea the statues are moving!! i iked seeing that in thhe game
caught way caught up in watching the movvie
i absolutely loved the fighting. all the moving parts were done amazingly well and the effects and graphics were stunning
honestly a great fight. truly enjoyed that.
though, both libertus and luna know what nys is definitely come with morning's light, it's nice of them to be optimistic
luna doesn't fit in with the other people but separate paths yes
okay nyx was aaron paul, regis was sean bean
i knew nyx's voice was familiar
what a good movie! i really enjoyed that
love that it helps flesh out what happened prior to signing day, and also showed us how good the kingsglaives are in combat
i liked that everything was so tense and there weren't too many motivations for why people turned traitor or fighting - everything came down to fighting for home (minus niff as a whole but that's an empire so given)
also, liked seeing how the ring got passed around,and seeing ravus try it on, though it was told to us in game he had
overall, good! the backstory provided was great and really does help develop the game more
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sarah-yyy · 4 years
Note
Oof after the last rebuttal presumption piece I can’t get lwj waking up and finding out what’s happened out of my mind oh no your power to make me imagine these things I’m devastated Oh god how is Jingyi’s dad gonna react to the news at least ig we also have the reassurance that they become Jingyi’s godparents and are happy in time🥺
[from here]
It’s two days after he regains consciousness that Lan Wangji recovers enough to sit up. It’s another three days after that before the imperial physicians deem him well enough to leave the bed. 
Wei Wuxian doesn’t come to visit him through this time. 
He misses Wei Wuxian, wishes that Wei Wuxian would stop by, even if it’s just for a moment. Lan Wangji has many things he wishes to say to Wei Wuxian, most of them overdue.
He closes his eyes, and tries to breathe through the longing. No matter. He will heal shortly enough, and then he will go to Wei Wuxian. 
With the war just recently concluding, and the attempt on Lan Wangji’s life as they were riding back into Gusu, it is understandable that Wei Wuxian would be busy reporting to the emperor and the council of elders. Lan Wangji can only hope that Lan Yuning is helping Wei Wuxian out as best as he can, since Wei Wuxian would not have experience dealing with the imperial court in matters like these. 
“Er-dianxia,” a servant interrupts his musings. “Moling junwang seeks an audience.”
Ah, speak of the devil. 
“Send him in,” Lan Wangji says.
Lan Yuning is visibly upset when he enters Lan Wangji’s chambers. “Er-dianxia,” he greets shortly. 
Lan Wangji blinks at him. The medicine the imperial physicians have been feeding him have made him slow. “Junwang,” he says politely, instead of asking what he’s done to inspire Lan Yuning’s ire. 
Lan Yuning wears his heart on his sleeves; he will reveal himself in no time. 
“They say you allowed it,” Lan Yuning says, after a long, angry pause. 
“Who?”
Lan Yuning’s glare sharpens. “The whole of Yunmeng, that’s who!” 
Yunmeng? 
“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji whispers, and that’s suddenly more important than whatever it is that Lan Yuning is upset at him for. “I have not seen him since I woke up. Is he well? You must know.”
It may be the desperation in his words, or the yearning in his voice, but Lan Yuning’s glare slips from his face, replaced with a look of horrified understanding. 
Lan Wangji’s heart thumps painfully. “Something is wrong.”
“You don’t know,” Lan Yuning whispers. “This…makes it better, and yet so much worse.” 
Lan Wangji has no time for Lan Yuning’s games. “Yuning-ge.”
“You must’ve heard the whispers about Yiling junwang setting off to Qinghe to marry Qinghe’s er-dianxia,” Lan Yuning says gently. “Everyone is talking about it. Your household should not be an exception.”
Lan Wangji nods. He’s heard of it, in passing, mostly when the servants come to check on him, and assume that he is asleep. The emperor has conferred the title of Yiling junwang upon a war hero, and bestowed him with a marriage of alliance to Qinghe, as a reward for his services to the country.
It does not seem like much of a reward to Lan Wangji, but he is being biased. He already knows what he will ask for, if he is given an opportunity to ask for a reward - a grand wedding, because it’s the least that Wei Wuxian deserves, and some time away from the imperial court, after, to take Wei Wuxian travelling.
He thinks Wei Wuxian will be proud of his choices. 
“Er-dianxia,” Lan Yuning says, sad, “Wei Wuxian is the Yiling junwang everyone speaks of.”
For a long, drawn out moment, Lan Wangji thinks his heart isn’t beating. Surely it cannot still be, when it feels like it’s being shattered into a thousand pieces. 
He did not come all this way to lose Wei Wuxian. He cannot lose Wei Wuxian. 
His knees buckle. 
Lan Yuning catches him before he’s able to crumple to the ground. 
(buy me a kofi! // more rebuttable presumption)
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jennycalendar · 3 years
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@andtheyfightcrime​ said: I think re: Angel, Jenny would be compassionate to a point because she knows what it’s like to be the black sheep of the family and reinventing oneself, and how he tries so hard to be good. But because you can’t have Angel without self flagellation (the Catholic, it jumps out) she would be firmly ok if you want to be married to your guilt instead of being constructive, then I can’t help you. Like you fucked up and whether I forgive you or not, it’s pointless because you don’t forgive yourself.
thank you so much for giving me an opening to talk about jenny and angel because i do agree with what you have to say AND i think that there’s so much to unpack there!?!?!?!? like??!?!?!
jenny’s relationship to angel has the very real potential to be something that evolves -- within canon we see it happen, albeit in tiny fractured snips that come about from the narrative crudely shoving jenny into random places and going “look :) drama :)” -- and i always wonder what that would look like. he’s had such a hold on her life. he charted the course that her life was supposed to take. everything she rebelled against and questioned was put into place specifically because of him. he was and in some ways is formative in the kind of person that jenny became. that’s a lot. (again with the jenny/buffy parallels......significant that buffy eventually hates jenny just as much as she goes out of her way to hate cordy and dismiss dru! significant that that shift towards derison and dismissal happens when it’s revealed that angel was a huge part of jenny’s life -- a monster that she underestimated, a responsibility that she was foolish with because she was chasing down a doomed romance. oof.)
so then in the season three that wasn’t, jenny is now looking at angel as the man who saved her life AND the monster who tried to end it, which is . a lot . i think she’d be really stringent about the difference between soul and no soul, in part as a coping mechanism to rationalize the trauma angelus put her through while still allowing her to love and admire angel. the fact that he tries so hard to be better clearly inspired her to risk her life (and, in canon, lose it) trying to give him a second chance -- that’s so powerful! she sees him as someone who is shackled by circumstance but is trying to be better, in part because she’s not close enough to him to fully Get how the guilt complex chains him down too.
which is to say that i think there is SO MUCH that could be done with angel’s role as this semi-iconic figure in jenny’s life, just as buffy is this huge presence in giles’s life. it’s a little different with angel and jenny (in part because angel is, y’know, Not A Teenage Girl), but there’s something interesting in this idea of them being so hugely combative? angel pushing this narrative of no obviously i am a horrible person for what i did to you, stop being so naive and jenny responding at first by trying to convince him that he is in fact good and then losing her patience and being like You Know What, Fine! Wallow All You Want, See If I Care.
(somehow that gets through to angel. which could in turn be sooooo interesting! buffy being jealous of the fact that angel does have this private and extremely personal connection with jenny upon which she, his girlfriend, is an intruder ... angel being forced into confronting his positive AND negative impact on jenny’s life, making his guilt a less nebulous, general kinda thing ... so much to do here. so much to think about.)
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jasperwhitcock · 3 years
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equinox | chapter 07 –– “a cruel god, a wrathful goddess”
here is chapter six of my bella as a vampire and edward as a human fanfic inspired by an au that @bellasredchevy​​ posted. you can read the new chapter on AO3 or here. i post updates on AO3 or on tumblr using the #equinoxjw tag. but it seems 10/10 times my tag does not work, so that is a fun mystery for me to solve.
oof... sometimes u get distracted and then ur sister gets married and then u get unmotivated & d*pressed and forget to update ur fanfic for over three months... my bad y'all... sorry for the wait hehe. i hope it is worth it. again, i'm so thankful for the comments & i read them all. i get too shy to respond, but i WILL. i just need to talk myself up first. i love u. thank u. hehe. ♡♡♡ merry christmas/happy holidays if i fail u again before the 25th. i WANT to update more frequently. my catchphrase these days is "i'm trying my best," so... i'm trying my best.
this is for the sweet anons who slide into my ask box & ask me questions abt my fanfic. and for taryn, who consistently reminds me that there are people wanting to read this seeing as she is one of those people, kim, who i am so desperate to impress that i began working on a new chapter once she started to read my fanfic, and kae, because without her, this fanfic would never have existed in the first place. i love how i'm writing this as though it's the intro to an actual book when it's literally just chapter seven. ok, i will shut up now so u can read. love u. again.
07 A CRUEL GOD, A WRATHFUL GODDESS
In great contrast to the noisy ambience of the other students in the hallway, we were silent on our walk to our shared biology class. I wondered how conscious Edward was of the stares and whispers focused on our proximity to one another, but my guess was that he was very much conscious of it. I intentionally ignored glancing in any direction that I sensed one of my siblings’ presence, although I figured it was mostly paranoia driving me to feel as though we were about to cross paths. Holding my breath to more easily walk beside Edward left my senses impaired to the ability to pinpoint their location. 
I was lucky that for the majority of my immortal life, I’d managed to escape unwanted attention. But now, it seemed that precious luck had finally run out. Maybe embarrassment had been creeping up on me, maliciously building itself up all these years, waiting until just the right moment to rear its ugly head and exact revenge that immorality had stolen its favorite object of humiliation to torment. But here it was, ensuring that I was finally catching up on feeling awkward and out of step, a feeling I experienced for what seemed like the entirety of my human life. I thought once I’d been changed, I’d never feel this way again, but becoming misaligned with my family made me feel bashful to parade my defiance in their faces. I had operated better under no scrutiny as a mortal and was surprised to realize that that still held true as an immortal as well. Because though there was now never a struggle of staying upright or a risk of tripping over my own feet, that didn’t prevent me from feeling self-conscious as I walked beside Edward. Although for different reasons –– it was too mortifying to consider what my family might make of what my actions suggested about my feelings towards Edward.
And yet still, I would put up with the ridicule and disapproval of my siblings if it meant I could listen to Edward speak his silly philosophical theology, his questioning of god and existence, for just a few more hours. If I were going to be teased over Alice’s visions regardless, I might as well find out what I can about this pretentious boy before I leave him alone forever. If only to understand why his moving to this small town threatened to warp my own future so much. In losing night and in losing death, there were so very little anomalies in the endless amount of time I’d been given. So what would it hurt to allow myself to fixate on this minuscule difference in my life for just awhile?
It could hurt Edward, a more selfless part of myself reminded me. If indulging myself was playing with fire, I was being justly punished with the way flames were efflorescing the inside of my dry, burning throat.
If a god did exist, why would it make sense for such a being to craft someone like Edward with his perceptivity, and send him off to this small town, home to a secret such as ours? If a god did exist, why it would be fair for such a being to craft someone like Edward, someone who tempted me both in bloodlust and in curiosity, and send him off to this small town, home to the very vampire who desperately wished to kill him most? If a god did exist, if our kind had fallen short of heaven, I could understand why sending Edward into our path –– and more specifically, my path –– could be some kind of punishment. But what I couldn’t understand is why a god would allow someone as innocent as Edward to be endangered for the sake of bringing a sinful, undead creature to justice. It seemed the only reasonable explanation would be that a god probably did not exist. 
And how could there be? I was on the precipice of falling into temptation with every step further in the hallway and every question he asked and answered. I could never not be very much aware of the fact –– especially now with his body merely inches from my side and his sweet fragrance blooming both deliciously and relentlessly in the air. And even as I impossibly withstood the lure of his blood, how was I meant to ignore the irresistibility of his mind and how inexplicably concerned I was to understand it? It seemed like a very cruel experiment of free will and knowledge –– far too cruel to allow much room for the kind of god Edward hoped for.
I frowned as I realized that this experiment wasn’t that of a cruel god’s but that of a cruel vampire, and I felt very much like a vampire as the sound of his heartbeat was so appealing that it made my mouth water.
“Do the stares bother you?” Edward spoke quietly to me as we weaved throughout the hallway. Easily distracted, his question was able to pull the more civilized parts of myself together, though this was probably also in thanks to my choosing not to utilize my sense of smell. I found it funny that at least one of his thoughts had been in a similar vicinity. But of course, the rest of his thoughts were probably free of all consuming agony and struggle. For all his curiosity about morality, to inflict this existence upon him would probably devour him in misery. At least as a human, despite whatever conclusions he may come to, there was still some hope to be had for an afterlife. This thought should have been dark and depressing, but because it made Alice’s vision seem like a complete hoax, I almost found it funny. How would Edward ever end up like me?
“Oh, no,” I swallowed the venom in my mouth. “I live for attention.” I watched from the corner of my eyes as his gaze flickered over to me, the ever present half smile appearing on his face at my joke. My answer came out so comfortably as though I was used to this, when in reality, the student body for the most part had grown accustomed to ignoring me. And, of course, there was nothing comfortable about the demanding, aching dryness in my mouth or the burning in my nostrils. “How about you?”
“Likewise,” he joked, laughing. “This is interesting –– their fascination. I understood their interest on my first day because I’d guess a new addition to the student body in a town this small is something of a rarity, but today, walking by your side is garnering even more attention. Is it a once in a lifetime opportunity to have Bella Cullen walk you to class?”
“You’re just so observant, aren’t you?” I rolled my eyes, though the corners of my mouths pulled up despite myself. “And I’m not walking you to class. I’m walking to a class I just so happen to share with you, so don’t get the wrong idea. I think they’re just surprised because they’re probably under the impression that I don’t play nice with others.”
“And do you?”
“You tell me,” I replied, pausing to face him beside a wall of lockers next to the entrance of our biology classroom. As he stopped beside me, a gust of air from a passing student walking hastily down the hallway sent his scent reeling into me at an unfortunate moment where I’d chosen to breathe in. My muscles tensed to spring, and I desperately anchored myself to the floor as my mind fell into disarray.
“Nicely enough,” Edward winked naturally as though we’d been the best of friends since his first day. The demanding thirst was intruding on my awareness, and the desperation for something wet and hot and delicious in my desiccated throat was so dizzying that his voice sounded as though it were underwater. With an effort as though I were swimming through drying cement, I resurfaced, just barely proving my dominion over the desire. I focused on his voice so that it’d become clearer, forcing myself to take another excruciating breath in and exhale the fire out. “I will say I am honored to be the exception –– to be plucked from the masses by the renowned, reclusive Bella Cullen.”
With torturous effort, I snorted as though I wasn’t fighting everything within me to keep him alive. I breathed in again heavily, allowing my body to become a pyre so that I could speak. “Alright, that’s enough. Stop saying my name like that. And you’ve lost the privilege. I am never walking you to class again,” I rolled my eyes even though my joke could very much be the truth. The bunching of my muscles, the twitching of my hands, and the fierce pain in my throat reminded me of the fact. Before he could point out the contradiction of what I’d previously clarified, I sighed. “Let’s take this quiz.”
His pretty green eyes were alive with mischief and enlightened with what must be more answers to questions he hadn’t outright asked me as he turned to enter the classroom. I followed behind him towards our shared table.
Air from the vent rushed out, thrusting the scent of his blood wafting into my face again. I paused for an indistinguishable moment as I battled agony, murderousness, monstrosity. Holy fuck. What was I trying to prove! Was it really worth this? Swallowing hard, I sat beside him as though nothing happened. My suffering was so great that Emmett could have brutally ripped my arm off, he could have beat me with it, and I wouldn’t have noticed nor felt a thing. I could have been set on fire, and it’d feel like sinking into a cool pool of water on an even cooler day. I was already burning alive, my body acting as a furnace, and I was imprisoned inside it.
Without intending to, I sighed aloud, exhaling as though it would smother the flames. It was a stupid, attention seeking thing to do. Humans sighed to expel air or express some sadness or relief or exhaustion, so when my family emitted an audible breath, we did so as a means of blending in. But to breath out in a way to clue Edward into the fact something was plaguing me… it was a stupid invitation for more questions. And these were questions I had no intention of sharing the answers to. I felt his eyes on me, but before he could say anything, Mr. Molina began passing out quizzes face down on our lab tables as students continued to pile in from lunch.
“Alright, class. Today we have a pop quiz–– oh, come on, guys, don’t groan. You will have the opportunity to make corrections after these have been graded. This is just an assessment of what you’ve retained from this unit so far. You will have the entire period to complete–– thanks for joining us, Mr. Patterson, glad you could fit my class into your busy schedule. Why don’t you take your seat? –– You will have the entire period to complete your quiz. If you finish early, feel free to get a head start on this weekend’s homework! I’ve written the reading down on the board. Aw, I’m sure you’re all moaning because you’re disappointed at how light of an assignment it is because I just know how very excited you all are to continue your passionate pursuit of studying biology. Alright, now that everyone’s settled–– wait a minute––”  Mr. Molina paused, raising his pointer finger in the air, his eyes squinted in anticipation. Three seconds later, the bell signaled the beginning of class. “Begin!”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Edward reluctantly turn away from me. In an elegant script, he wrote his name at the top of the paper and began his quiz. I turned away from him to look at my own paper, preparing myself to uncomfortably hold my breath for the next hour. The difference this made in my thirst was almost insignificant, but enough so that it gave me a tiny more leverage in my control. I smoothed out the pucker on my forehead with the eraser from my pencil, accidentally snapping the rubber off against my face. 
Absentmindedly, I began to breeze through the assessment, circling the correct answers, but my mind was more absorbed in the warmth of sitting beside Edward. Aside from the affliction of doing so, it was too pleasurable to have sat beside him so often and for so long today. I enjoyed the toastiness like a lizard basking in the sun. It made me recall the muddy human memory of laying out on a blanket in my backyard beneath my beloved blue Arizona sky, hiding beneath the small shade of a book. Not the blistering heat of a summertime Phoenix sun, but the warmth of the first day of spring. But the heat of Edward’s body alone was enough to fill my mouth with venom, so I tried to refocus my attention onto my quiz.
When I turned to the last page of questions, a motion beside me diverted my concentration once again. I peeked over, turning my head slightly in Edward’s direction to see what it was. As he thought over one of the questions, his right hand was moving peculiarly as he lifted and dropped down his long fingers almost as though he were impatiently tapping each digit one by one along the tabletop. Except the movement was more exact and calculatingly random. Engrossed, I watched as his his soft, fragile skin rippled over the muscle, the tendons appearing and disappearing with every bizarre movement. It took me a moment to make the connection between the large grand piano in his home and the motion of his hands. I realized he was miming piano movements while he thought through his answers. There was something both weird, funny, and endearing about this. I smiled to myself, not having the required oxygen to quietly laugh.
I felt his curious eyes flicker over to me and watched peripherally as he raised his eyebrows. I shook my head, biting down on my lip to unsuccessfully fight the smile, and returned to completing my quiz.
I finished a moment later and impatiently waited another ten minutes or so before I could turn in my work. I tried to ignore Edward for this small period of time at least, mentally reading myself the opening chapter to Wuthering Heights. Even though the words were committed to my memory, it was still never as good as actually reading from the book itself.
Once I’d decided an appropriate enough time had passed, I stood up to walk my quiz to the completed basket on Mr. Molina’s desk. Even having waited, I was still the first to finish the examination.
“Thank you,” the teacher whispered without breaking his focus away from the crossword puzzle he peered through his glasses at. I breathed in now that I’d placed some distance between myself and Edward, gladly facing the cool, fresh air from the vent.
“Neophyte,” I whispered back now that I’d replenished my oxygen supply.
“Excuse me?” He glanced up, his slightly aged face confused.
“Neophyte,” I repeated. “Eight across, two down.”
I took in one last clean breath and walked back to my seat as he tapped his pen across the squares of the space, mouthing his count of the letters to check if the word fit.
As soon as I took my place in my seat again, Edward stood up to walk his own quiz to the basket.
I wanted to watch him, but instead I forced myself to unzip my backpack and retrieve the biology textbook.
Busying myself with the assigned chapters, deciding to actually read them so as to not feed into my invasive Edward obsession, I couldn’t help but listen as Edward too placed his own textbook on the countertop.
I heard the scribble of pen on paper as he began to write what I imagined were notes until his large hand slid the paper over to me beneath the wall of my hair spilling over the desk. Well, I wouldn’t ignore him if he was the one deciding to bother me.
You know I’m pretty certain that cheating is a violation of the student handbook, but I’ll let you get away with it just this once.
I turned to glance at his face to see if he were serious. His eyes were warm and inviting, his mouth in the same crooked smile.
I took the piece of paper and looked around for my writing utensil that had gone missing somehow. My eyes zeroed in on a suspicious, tiny pile of wood dust on my side of the desk. When had I brutalized my pencil? He held his hand out to offer his own pen, and I accepted it, carefully plucking it from his fingers without making contact.
I wasn’t cheating. You were doing something funny. And what do you know about the student handbook? You’re new.
I slid the paper and pen back to him and watched as he combed a hand through his bronze hair, reading my response. The smile grew wider as he construed the biting tone of my note. 
Can I be let in on the joke? Edward wrote, turning to look at me once he was done. Again I was prisoner, though this time not to my own body. I was momentarily held hostage by the beauty and warmth of his light green eyes. I was understanding more and more the attraction the other students had for him. If I had a soul, it was as though he were staring straight into it.
I recovered, placing my hand atop the desk and then wiggling my fingers as though I were weaving my way through a very complicated piano piece.
Oh, Edward mouthed, immediately understanding. He silently laughed and placed his left hand to his forehead briefly as if to hide his face in mock embarrassment. The ink from the pen spilled onto the paper as he began to write again.
In my defense, there’s research that supports classical music puts students in a heightened emotional state, making them more receptive to information and helping them focus.
That’s very nerdy of you. I scribbled back, the corners of my lips pulled upwards.
I know. As I read the words on the notebook paper, we both laughed a little too loudly for the quietness of the room.
“Please remain silent for your classmates still working,” Mr. Molina stage-whispered from his desk, his eyes still fixated on the crossword puzzle.
It’s a bad habit. Edward tacked on to his message. I beamed. I knew a thing or two about bad habits today. I was appreciative of this silent conversation on paper; it made it easier to be beside him without needing to breathe to speak aloud.
What were you playing? I scrawled.
Clair de Lune. Edward wrote back. His thick eyebrows raised as my eyes lit up, and he continued writing. You know Debussy?
My mother used to play a lot of classical music around the house. It was one of my favorites.
It’s one of my favorites, too. Edward’s eyes were a little sad and lost in thought, and he smiled softly.
I was shocked by the change in expression and weirdly desperate to return the brightness back to his eyes. The burn in my throat was almost forgettable in the face of my concern. Almost, but not quite. He turned his head down to write on the paper again.
You said Rosalie played piano. You never learned? He turned to look at me, his expression curious. I shook my head and shrugged, reaching for the pen.
I didn’t think I had the coordination for it. While this was true for the time I was human, it wasn’t true now. Still, even though my days stretched into endless nights, I hadn’t yet devoted time to any instrument as an immortal.
Edward read the paper, his long pointer finger tracing the line beneath the words as he did so. He held his large hand out, and I dropped the pen into it.
I’ll show you sometime. Edward half smiled at me, his eyes sweet and earnest.
Knowing I shouldn’t be allowing him to think making a plans with me was an option, I reached for the pen to tell him that it was alright, but I froze as he suddenly moved to drop the pen and take my hand. Though he should have been the one hesitant and cautious as though approaching a dangerous, wounded animal, I held perfectly still as though he were the danger, and I needed to play dead for protection. You can’t play dead if you are dead, I thought to myself. 
My body tensed as my hand was enveloped in the heat of his much larger palm, uncertain as to what he was doing. My muscles screamed at me as I clenched my free hand into a tight fist, terrified of myself.
A shiver rippled through him as he felt the chill of my frozen fingers, and I twitched the hand in his possession, wanting to yank it away to protect him from the iciness but not wanting to alert him with the swiftness of the motion.
He smiled mysteriously at the spasm as though he somehow expected it. I wanted to ask him what he was thinking but didn’t want to risk breathing. My control could too easily be lost. Besides, I was scared that if I were to open my mouth, I’d end up screaming.
I felt him push slightly and realized he wished for me to curl my fingers, so with great concentration and the acute awareness of his fragility, I moved my stony hand into the shape he directed, my fingers curved slightly beneath his like a relaxed talon. I didn’t like the shape; it was odd and inhuman and made me think of the violence I could cause.
But it wasn’t a claw. Because once my hand was positioned the way he wanted, he began to slowly place pressure on my fingers, and I dipped and rose them accordingly to carefully move with his. I watched as the two of our hands together played what I imagined must be the opening chords to Clair de Lune.
The disconcerting emptiness in my chest soared at the bizarre pleasure of this touch, and a weird sensation tickled my scalp, moving swiftly down my spine to my entire body. 
My muscles tightened violently and then relaxed, sending a shiver to ripple through me. It was too much pleasure and too much pain as my throat ached and I leaned into the warmth.
Embarrassed and not wanting to push my luck, I cautiously pulled my hand slowly away. He lifted his hand to allow me to escape as though I couldn’t just break his hand to do so, a half-smile pulling on his lips. I pretended not to notice the goosebumps on his arms.
See? he mouthed before deciding to whisper. “You could do it.”
I forced myself to smile and then turned away for the rest of the hour, trying to keep from doing anything stupid like looking at him or killing him. I’d completely forgotten where we were.
When the bell finally rung, I collected my things atop the desk hastily. Edward reached for my backpack and held it up for me.
“Thanks,” I murmured as I dumped my books into the bag. Before I could take it from him, he slid it onto his back and nodded his head once for me to go forward.
Feeling awkward, I turned and allowed him to follow me to the door. I was lucky to walk in front of him, taking the opportunity to breath again as the vent blew out in front of my face.
Exiting the classroom, I paused for a second when I saw Emmett waiting for me across the hallway rather than his typical spot beside the wall of lockers next to our shared Spanish classroom. Even though I was well aware of the fact I’d been dangling my irresponsibility in their faces all day, I still felt as though I was being caught in the act.
Emmett’s eyebrows raised as his golden eyes watched Edward follow behind me, carrying my backpack. I crossed the hallway reluctantly towards my big brother.
“Hello,” I greeted him, avoiding his eyes. I felt smaller than ever beside him with my head down, and yet not small enough as I wished to disappear.
“Hey, little sis,” Emmett began uncertainly, though I glanced up to see his full lips were beginning to stretch into a smile that I didn’t like. “Who’s that with you?”
“Uh…”
“I’m Edward Masen,” the lanky human boy introduced himself confidently as he stopped beside me. “And you must be––”
“Emmett,” my brother interrupted, grinning as though he always so comfortably interacted with humans. This was all too weird, but he looked to be enjoying it far too much. His desire to mess with me and his confidence in Alice’s visions seemed to override the abnormality of speaking to a student so amicably. I watched as he breathed in and shot me a meaningful look. I grimaced.
I opened my mouth to put an end to this torturously awkward interaction, but Emmett interrupted again.
“It’s nice to see you made a friend,” he began, an evil glint in his eyes as he watched my face. I was confused as to where he was going with this because our entire family would come across as misanthropic to the rest of the school, so why should it matter to him. He turned his attention to look at Edward who was closer in height to him. “You know, we worry about her––”
“Okay, let’s go to Spanish,” I cut him off quickly. “Edward, can I have my bag, please?”
Without looking at him, I reached for my backpack as he offered it and threw it over my shoulder, heading down the hallway. It was a massive relief to put some distance between myself and Edward. My thoughts were clearer, and I could breathe freely.
Emmett burst into laughter, his guffaws booming in the hallway. Several students paused in fear making me concerned about Edward’s reaction to my giant of a sibling, but I relaxed when I heard Edward chuckling along with him.
“Um, see you,” Emmett said to Edward before his steady, near silent footfall followed after me.
Even moving at a lethargic human pace, he caught up to me quickly.
“That wasn’t funny,” I grumbled.
“What the hell are you doing?” Emmett chuckled, ignoring my question.
“What the hell are you doing? What was that back there?”
“I don’t know. That was weird, but not as weird as you playing with your food.”
I hissed quietly.
“Damn, I’m kidding, Bells. But seriously, what are you doing? What happened to your high and noble speech about doing the right thing and staying away from the kid? I thought Esme was about to produce real tears. It even softened Rose.”
“Ugh, don’t talk to me about Rosalie right now. She’s been giving me dirty looks all day. It makes me feel awful. I already feel bad!”
“Well, I don’t really care what you do either way so––” I looked at him questionably. “I mean, sure, I want you to do the right thing, whatever that means. I don’t want you to feel miserable. But on one end, I didn’t really mind so much what happened to me.”
“Rosalie did,” I countered.
“Yeah, Rose did,” he acquiesced quietly.
“Anyways, I’m not having that conversation. I wasn’t talking to him today to test whether or not he’s worth it. That’s… unethical.”
“So what were you doing?”
“I don’t know,” I groaned in answer.
Emmett laughed.
“You’re weird these days, Bella.”
“You’re weird everyday,” I quipped back before sighing. “I don’t know. He’s weird, too. I guess… I’m not making any decisions, at all, but if Alice told you what she told me… wouldn’t you be curious?”
Emmett thought it over. “Yeah, I think so. But I also don’t think I’d have even made it to this point,” he admitted. I winced.
“It’s kind of unfair for me to care more about satiating my curiosity and dance with the devil this way, right?”
“Well…he may not know it, but isn’t it more so that Edward’s the one dancing with the devil?”
“Yeah,” I agreed, frowning as we walked into our Spanish class. “I guess it is.”
I made the decision to avoid thinking of Edward for the remaining hour of school. I paid very little attention in Spanish, returning to the familiar mind-numbing boredom that classes had been prior to the last few days. Now that it was in stark contrast to the sudden life breathed into my time at Forks High School by my fixation with Edward, the tedium was no longer something dealt with indifferently and sluggishly. Now, it left me feeling restless, and it almost pained me how laborious it was to sit through a life I wasn’t an active participant in. It was nowhere near the pain of dealing with the excruciating thirst I had around my bronze-haired lab partner, but it almost tampered with my thoughts more knowing I’d feel less miserable if I spent this time analyzing every word Edward shared with me, every fluctuation of his tone, every glint in his perceptive eyes, every expression on his pretty face… But I was becoming too obsessive. The same hunger for adventure that made me fall in love with reading must be what was leading me to so treacherously, so impetuously dive into exploring this insignificant and yet cataclysmic difference in my life.
As though it had a personal vendetta against me, time moved even more lethargically than it ever had before, but finally, the bell signaling the end of school rang. Emmett’s eyes shot a concerned look at me as I rose from my seat too quickly, and I immediately felt embarrassed again. The cautious reminder in his expression made me feel childish as Emmett was never one to care much about bending the rules. 
“See you at home, I guess,” he shook his head, giving me one last look that seemed to suggest I’d lost it.
“See you,” I mumbled, slinging my bag over my shoulder. Leaving Emmett behind to wait for Rosalie, I weaved through the crowded hallway and out to the parking lot. Students were bundling together and squealing at the chilling air as tiny, fluffy snowflakes fluttered down from the overcast sky. The floor of the parking lot was almost as glassy as yesterday as the rain from this afternoon had melted into a thin layer of icy mush. Though there was hardly enough snow for a decent snowball fight, some of the rowdier students were bundling up a pitiful pile of snow to form pathetic snowballs in their fists.
I nearly skipped to the pearly white vehicle parked beside Rosalie’s overly conspicuous crimson car which was forming a small crowd of admirers. Leaning against the trunk of the car, I watched the front doors of the school to look for Edward.
The tangle of reddish-brown hair was easy to spot because of its strange metallic tint as he strolled out of the building with Naomi, the student who’d provided him with the information about my family on his first day. He had his coat folded over his arm, revealing how form fitting his light tan turtleneck was. He truly was a very attractive boy. It was odd that I hadn’t really paid much attention initially. With his dazzling face and tall, lean frame, Edward was pretty enough that for the vampires who searched for exquisitely beautiful humans to create into even more stunning immortals, he could probably be a contender for someone to collect.
Thinking of how Emmett questioned my motives today, I quickly banished the idea of Edward as an immortal from my mind, even if it was only a hypothetical inspired by my observation.
Edward paused, asking Naomi if she could hold on to his backpack for a moment. When she grabbed it, he pulled on his long black coat, and fiddled with the collar. Recollecting his backpack, he slid it onto one shoulder, then rubbed his hands together, blowing the warm air from his mouth to heat them up. Thinking of the sweetness of the smell of his breath made me remember to take in swallows of fresh air before he made his way over to me.
As he was distracted momentarily, I watched as a stray snowball flew towards Edward’s head. I was overcome with the urge to intercept it in the event it may hit him too harshly and knock him to the pavement, but flying across the parking lot inhumanly fast twice in one week was probably not the way to go about correcting my mistakes.
The soggy snowball crashed into Edward’s hair, exploding into shards of ice and water that slid down his prominent cheekbone. I laughed aloud at his shocked expression as the curtain bangs framing his face were immediately drenched, darkening his hair into a brown color. Once he’d realized what happened, his face broke into a good-humored smile.
“Holy shit! Sorry, Edward!” The classmate who had thrown the snowball with poor aim called out.
“No worries!” Edward called back. He shook his head, chuckling as he wiped the water from his face. As he laughed, his eyes found the space where I waited and brightened seeing that I, too, was enjoying the moment.
“Hey, I’ll see you tomorrow,” he told Naomi, who was too beside herself in tears of laughter to reply.
Edward sauntered over towards me, and I inhaled deeply as a fortuitous whisper of wind blew from the tree line. I held onto the notes of crisp eucalyptus, fresh snow, and cedar wood, trying to distract my mind from the offensively mouthwatering scents approaching me.
Edward was a coordinated human, but even he lost his footing on the icy pavement. His body slid forward for a moment, but I stepped towards him to close the space between us and caught him by the elbow.
He looked up from his boots against the frozen parking lot into my eyes, startled momentarily at the swiftness in which I had appeared. Then, his full lips lifted into a crooked smile that creased his astonishing green eyes into half moons. I let go immediately and took a big step back to ensure a safer distance between myself and the warmth of his fragile body. It had been a risky movement, but somehow in comparison to yesterday, it didn’t seem to matter as much. I figured our classmates were too involved in their gawking at the details of my sister’s car or their feeble, slushy snowball fight to notice, and oddly, I didn’t care that Edward had seen. It was beginning to feel too late to keep up certain pretenses.
Although, it wasn’t too late, and it shouldn’t feel that way. I reminded myself I still had every intention of leaving Edward alone once I’d figured out what was so compelling about our paths crossing that had Alice’s visions spiraling in a confusing jumble. I took another step back slowly.
“Thank you,” Edward said, his eyes humored with another secret he didn’t seem willing to share. “You keep saving me.”
“Well, let’s not make this damsel in distress thing habitual,” I snorted, turning so that he couldn’t see the smile forming on my face. I felt shy about showcasing any comfort or happiness in his presence now that I was reminded of how fleeting this experimental friendship was, but I wondered if subconsciously I wanted him to catch me in my misery and ask me to explain, though I wasn’t certain why I wanted to sabotage myself like that. I opened my door and turned to look at him again. “You coming?”
Before he could answer, I dipped into the driver’s seat, and breathed in one last time. Well, once this was all over, I could finally stop inhaling dramatically as though they were truly my last, dying breaths. The air was mostly clean of his scent, but I knew that regardless, the heat of his body would be enough to disrupt my comfort and control. As the thought crossed my mind, I painfully swallowed back the venom pooling beneath my tongue.
Edward swerved through the crowd obsessing over Rosalie’s car and opened the passenger door, sliding into his seat. As he placed his backpack on the floor and fiddled with his seatbelt, I made sure to adjust the air conditioning so that the heat could warm Edward from the frigid Forks air. Though for me, just being in his presence made the intimate interior of the car feel as though I were again sitting by his fireplace.
“That’s a beautiful car,” he murmured. “Is it an M8?”
“Uh, it’s a BMW?” I asked uncertainly as though he’d spoken another language.
Edward grinned as though he wanted to laugh but didn’t want to make me angry. Rosalie would have loved to answer all his questions if he too had an interest in cars. Would have loved to, if she wasn’t deeply offended by my actions or if I had any intention of Edward meeting any more of my family members.
“Ready?” I bit my lip as I forced out any inconsiderate plots of murder that threatened to distract me from being a defensive driver.
“Mhm,” Edward answered.
I reversed out of the parking slot slowly, but as I looked in the rearview once I’d straightened out, I saw the fleeting image of Rosalie’s exquisitely beautiful and exceptionally angry face. I quickly readjusted the mirror to remove my sister’s reflection and sped out of the parking lot in a way that could have taken out a few unlucky students if I didn’t have above average years of driving experience.
Peripherally, I watched as Edward’s thick eyebrows raised, but he decided not to question me. Once we’d reached the main road, I slowed my speed so as not to rush through this time, even though I knew for his safety and my sanity, I should. As I drove, his right hand moved in odd shapes again against the arm rest of the passenger side door as though he were playing piano once more.
I decided to bite and use up some of my limited air supply.
“What are you playing?”
“Clair de Lune again,” he replied. Then, he began to hum the melody aloud for me as he moved his hand.
I thought to offer to play the song for him through the speakers, but I decided against it as I listened to Edward’s soft, velvety voice hum beautifully through the song, breaking the silence.
The ugly, slush-like falling of snow transformed into a falling of rainwater, and Edward’s voice was orchestrated by a lovely symphony of raindrops.
Before his voice could weave into the more involved moments of the piece, Edward stopped.
I looked over at him, curious for the reason as to why. His face was turned away from me so that all I could see was his untidy bronze hair as he gazed out the window. I pulled in front of his driveway and parked against the curb.
Miraculously, I’d made it again. Carefully, I inhaled through my nose to experiment with my control. The sweet bouquet of the boy’s blood was potent and even more mouthwatering than usual from the snow turned rain that’d wet his hair. I hadn’t considered the possibility that he could smell better than before, and I kept myself from groaning aloud as I dug my nails into my own palms. The tingling sensation in my nose was as though I’d sniffed some powerful chemical, the burning sensation in my throat as though I’d taken a long drag of a cigarette. But more painful. More demanding. Desire, need flew from my core out towards my extremities, and the beating of his heart pumping the blood through his body drummed loudly in my ears. It seemed to move through me, my frigid body almost twitching with every pulse, ready to lunge forward and crush his neck to my lips.
“What was your mother like?” He asked me suddenly, his voice soft. Edward turned from the window to face me, and I was bewildered by the intensity of his expression. His eyes were light and beautiful against the gloomy grey of the sky, and they squinted slightly as though studying my face like this information was absolutely essential. But this was not what stunned me, as I’d already seen the severity of this expression before in our ephemeral time together. It was the unexpected vulnerability of his stunning face. The more time I spent looking at him, the more I realized how beautiful this human boy really was. And it seemed a great tragedy for this beautiful boy to harbor such devastation in his eyes.
Whereas previously in his presence, my thoughts had become incoherent due to a lapse in control, now my thoughts were incoherent in distress and desperation to understand what had gone wrong and how I could fix it. I was momentarily dumbfounded, but I pulled myself together after the soft sound of a few droplets of rain against the roof reminded me that he was waiting for an answer.
“Well, she looked a lot like me, but prettier,” I began stupidly. He raised his eyebrows. “Or at least, she used to look a lot like me, and I used to look a lot like her. I don’t so much anymore.” It’d been so long since I’d really spoken about my mom, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to laugh or cry. I knew I should have made some comment about whether or not she looked like Esme or Emmett since our story made us siblings, but I didn’t want to taint the rarity of sharing who she was with a lie.
“She was more outgoing than I am,” I continued, thinking through the foggy memories I held onto from my human life.
“That’s difficult to believe,” Edward teased quietly, his lips curving into a half smile.
I laughed, listening to the melodic sound of it, thinking of how it symbolized how very much different I was now from the human girl my mother knew.
“I was always very shy,” I smiled, before speaking up again, caught in the echoes of my past. “She was brave and irresponsible and slightly eccentric. And she was a very unpredictable cook!”
I laughed aloud again thinking of some minor explosions in our tiny kitchen and some questionable dishes. Edward laughed too, but when our laughter faded into the falling of the rain, my smile faded.
“She wasn’t perfect,” I admitted. “I think I recognize now that she was very fallible. I worshipped her when I was younger, but when I think back, I do see how in some of the ways she raised me, I was done a disservice… I grew up too fast. When she died––“ I sighed, feeling insincere and guilty about perpetuating this lie when I really should have said when I died, “––Esme became more of a mother to me, and even Rosalie’s been more traditionally nurturing than my mom ever was… But still, she was my best friend.”
“You miss her,” he murmured simply. I met his gentle eyes.
“Yes,” I bit my lip.
“How old are you, Bella?” Edward asked. “And not the formulaic, theorized version where you were born in your thirties. How old are you really?”
I tensed, wondering if he was asking this again because he’d taken note of how I didn’t directly answer this question the last time he asked.
“Seventeen,” I answered automatically.
“You don’t seem seventeen,” he responded, reproachful.
The tension left my body at the tone of his voice. I smiled again easily.
“Sorry?” I asked, biting my lip to hide the smile, unsure of how to respond.
Edward chuckled and the subtle crinkles by his eyes lit up his face. “Well, I wish you’d been given a happier, normal childhood.”
“I’m fine,” I shrugged, brushing it off. “I hardly remember most of it, and what I do remember reminds me that I probably didn’t have much chance at a normal childhood to begin with. I was terribly shy, remember.
“I did do girl scouts, though….Oh, and ballet briefly,” I admitted, unsure as to why I was volunteering so much information about myself. Wasn’t the purpose of me sitting here to uncover information about him?
“Why does that make you… embarrassed?” Edward’s eyebrows pulled up.
For an odd moment, I felt betrayed by the flush of my cheeks before I realized there was no blood rushing to my face. I blinked, bewildered by the peculiarity of this long buried instinct to become frustrated with my easy blushes when I hadn’t blushed for years. I felt self conscious as I wondered what Edward saw reading my expression to so perfectly decipher my feelings.
“I was very uncoordinated,” I dismissed his question as I fought the urge for my hand to flutter to touch my cool cheek.
“Now that truly is difficult to believe,” Edward half-smiled. “I can’t imagine I’ve seen anyone as graceful as you.”
I laughed aloud at his compliment, though I didn’t doubt his sincerity. I knew this was true of myself. It was true of all of our kind to appear fluid and effortless, but still, no one had ever applied the word to me. My vampiric poise was irrelevant and unimpressive to my family, and the very few humans brave enough to overcome their nerves to compliment me typically found their words to fail them.
“You’re very odd,” I beamed.
“What do you mean?” The bronze-haired boy asked, again wanting to be let in on the secret. While I had an insatiable thirst, it seemed he had an insatiable curiosity.
“How old are you really? Your word choice is bizarre for someone your age, you know.”
“Oh,” he laughed easily. “Well, I’m actually not seventeen. I’m eighteen. But I’ll try to strictly adhere to a more teenage vernacular, so I can compliment you in a more acceptable way from now on.”
I looked out at the dim light of the brewing storm, my smile fading as I decided that I should probably allow him to escape me before I did something I’d regret. But I knew I wasn’t resolved enough to completely leave him alone. He made me monopolize too much of the conversation, and I wasn’t satisfied with what I knew about him yet.
I sighed aloud, and Edward, too, looked out at the rain darkened sky.
“Will I see you tomorrow?” he asked hopefully, making the assumption that our conversation was coming to an end.
“Yes,” I promised reluctantly. My eyes flickered back over to his pretty face, studying the lines of his strong jaw, his chiseled cheekbones, his full lips, committing this inconsequential face to memory as I silently resolved that this should be –– and would be –– one of the last times I’d allow myself to be this close to him. Tomorrow may well be the very last.
Likewise, as though his thoughts were in the same vein, his beautiful green eyes studied my face as well, though he did so in that mysterious way of his where he looked at me as though hoping to read my mind.
He sighed, then collected his backpack. Edward opened the door, stepping out into the bitterly cold weather. A shiver ran through his lanky body, making my body tense with perverse excitement. I cringed away from the deadly instinct and swallowed against the dryness of my yearning throat.
Edward’s tall, lean frame leaned down to peek into the car.
“Goodnight, Bella,” he spoke softly.
“Goodnight, Edward,” I almost whispered, gazing into the beauty of his dazzling green eyes.
Edward smiled his half smile, and closed the door, escaping into the building torrent of rain.
I gasped in relief at his absence, then stiffened realizing how the cab of the car was still heavily perfumed with his scent. I took in another deep breath, forcing myself to confront the burning thirst again, willing myself to manage it. I sighed as I hit the gas, making Edward disappear behind me.
  Both my control and the rain pour strengthened significantly as I turned onto the long drive leading to my house. I grimaced as I wondered how I’d face my family and explain the complete reversal of what I’d promised to do. I didn’t have time to consider for much longer as suddenly, a figure appeared instantaneously in the drive. I slammed my foot on the brake immediately in shock at its appearance, not wanting to total yet another car against one of my siblings.
I peered through the windshield, unable to see through the complete downpour that submerged my vehicle as though it were underwater. It was annoying for my perfect sight to be obstructed by anything, rainwater or even the transparent windshield because of my eyes’ desire to focus on the microscopic scratches.
The car violently screeched against the muddy pavement, and it looked as though we would have to bid this car goodbye until the figure hidden by the storm placed their hands out on the car roughly and forced it to a stop. The tires screamed in protest, and the metal groaned as it warped into the shape of the palms. I listened as it unnaturally bent again in a piercing moan as the figure fixed the indentions they’d created.
My windshield wipers swatted away a flood of water. Finally, I could make out my sister Rosalie, her hair dripping wet down her back like a supermodel who’d just emerged from a pool on the cover of Sports Illustrated. Her exquisite face was absolutely furious.
I gulped, feeling like a child who’d just been discovered sneaking home past curfew.
I felt uncertain as to what to do and why she’d chosen to stop me here. Surely she could wait for us to be under the cover of the garage before she chastised me. Not wanting to be drenched by the rain, I revved the engine to ask her to move aside, but the car didn’t inch forward against her strength. Beginning to feel annoyed, I revved the engine again loudly and for longer, but still, she didn’t move.
“Rose,” I hissed as I hit the brake again so that the car could roar viciously in the storm, only to be cut off by the voice of my adopted mother.
“Girls!” I couldn’t see Esme through the obscured glass behind the downpour, but even with the barrage of the rain, I could hear her lithe steps run furiously to the front porch. “Please!”
Rose’s head snapped up to look in Esme’s direction before turning to glance unhappily back at me. She stepped aside, and I sped into the garage, parking the car hastily.
I exited immediately and went to expect the damage to the front of the hood. It was only a minuscule bend from having been pushed and prodded back and forth, and I was positive Rosalie could make it look like new, though why it had been necessary to punish the car was beyond me. It wasn’t even mine.
I wheeled around once I’d heard the near-silent steps of her run, a wave of anger making me forget my guilt.
“Are you insane?!” I demanded.
“I could ask the same of you, Bella!” Now free from the obscurity of the rain, I could see in perfect detail the stunning fury of her glorious face. Her golden hair had been darkened by the rain, and it was slicked back effortlessly, like a glittering waterfall down to the middle of her back. She looked like a wrathful god, but I couldn’t find it in my stubbornness to care about how valid her anger may be.
“Okay, but did you have to take it out on the car? What did it ever do to you! You couldn’t have waited another twenty seconds to confront me? Well, you have my attention now, Rosalie, so say whatever it is you want to say!”
“You’re just unbelievable, Bella!”
“He’s not going to say anything, Rose! We already talked about this yesterday. You heard Alice! He’s not a threat to you and Emmett, so I don’t understand why you’re taking this so personally.”
“Exactly, Bella. I heard Alice. Which is precisely why I fail to understand as to why you wouldn’t understand why I’d take it so personally. After all these years of sisterhood, how can you not understand how I feel about this?”
I frowned, my forehead puckering, but still, I retained my anger. She huffed, continuing.
“If it was an inevitability, I’d understand. However, it hurts me deeply that you recognize the choice that you have. The choice that Edward has. And still, you’re willing to play with his mortality as though it were a game, when I never had that choice.”
I froze, the realization dawning on me that she was right. No matter the ways in which I tried to justify my actions or spin my intentions, she was right. Another part of my mind acknowledged that while I was aware of right and wrong, I wasn’t certain that what was right would be enough to keep me away anymore.
We stared each other down much like we had yesterday. Only today, rather than anger, her face was contorted in hurt, and mine was contorted in hopelessness.
“But… you found Emmett when he was still human…” I weakly protested, selfishly trying to highlight the irony, though I knew it was pointless as I wasn’t advocating for Edward to be changed either. That was too complicated a thought to wrap my mind around. But whatever may happen –– and I was still very much aware of the worst of possibilities –– I didn’t want my sister to hate me for it.
“He was dying, Bella,” Rosalie whispered. The anger on her face had completely faded, and in its place, pain marked her eyebrows, her full lips, her golden, sad eyes. In her sadness, she looked like a work of art, like one of those paintings of a weeping saint. “It’s not the same.”
I didn’t have a response to that, and I felt as though I was at an impasse, both with myself and with Rosalie. Because I knew the promises I’d made and broken, but I knew the promise I’d made to Edward today, and I had no willpower, no desire, and no intention to break that promise.
“You may not feel anything for him now,” Rosalie began, her eyes intently fierce as they bore into mine to warn me. Only this warning felt significantly more horrible than I’d imagined it may be, because it wasn’t made in anger, but in desperation and love. “But if Alice is right, you will. And it seems to me a horrible way to repay someone you love to steal their life, their future, their soul from them. You should leave him alone now while you still can, because once you love him… it’ll only hurt more one way or another. And you’ll have to live with that for the rest of your existence. I know I have.”
And with that, Rose turned, her face cold and sad, and she left the garage.
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