#I simply did it to avoid as many ads as possible

[xcrowfeathersx]

I made a comment on someone’s post about this, so I’m gonna make an actual post myself about it.

Considering that we know Heaven and Hell (Pearly Gates and the Fires of Damnation) canonically exist in Beetlejuice’s lore following Beetlejuice Beetlejuice, it calls into question Betelgeuse’s long existence even by ghost terms and gives rise to some interesting considerations.

Long ramble below.

We know ghosts must serve a length of time (125 years seems normal) before they can move on. However Beej himself has been around for far longer and his backstory solidifies just how long it’s been since he died.

Now the Handbook tells us that additional time can be added to that 125 years as a form of punishment, and that might be one reason Beej has been around as long as he has. It’s a compelling theory considering we saw the size of his criminal record file in the scene in Wolf’s office.

However, with Hell confirmed to exist there’s a second possibility; many ghosts probably serve their time in the Afterlife simply to move on to something worse if they were terrible people or did terrible things in life. More so if they keep doing terrible things in the Afterlife.

We know Beej knows about Hell and he readily sends Jeremy there with that lever, so he clearly knows judgement can be made in the Immigration Office just that easily. As well as, presumably, people being forced onto the train there as well (I presume the trap doors are usually used in emergency scenarios).

Anyway. This… makes me wonder if that’s why Beej is over 600 years old; he’s actively avoiding moving on because he knows he’s going to Hell if he does, and so of course he wants out. As in. Life again.

This active avoidance could be hiding (as he did in the Maitland’s model) as well as purposefully causing trouble to add to his service time in the Afterlife, the second one wouldn’t be difficult he would certainly enjoy the trouble making anyway.

[alistairssock]

HAHA fools, I did it anyway

If I posted a video of me playing Baldur's Gate would anyone want to watch that 👉👈

[gay-dorito-dust]

Taglist: @your-favorite-god @cens0r3d @lovelyteenagebeard

Heeding Aemond’s words, you decided that an audience with Cannibal was required. So in the dead of night you slipped out of the red keep through the secrete passages you’ve learned thanks to Aegon, almost undetected had you not almost collided with a rat catcher who was accompanied by the cutest dog you’ve did see, before fleeing into the very same woods upon your first encounter with the behemoth of legend.

Once you got to the cave Helaena’s words had been proven true, Cannibal had been waiting for you as the silhouette of his head could be seen poked out of the dark, just as a pair dark green eyes like Greek fire looking directly at you but you weren’t afraid like last time.

‘Cannibal.’ You greeted as you bowed before the dragon, whom let out an almost purring sound at the sign of respect shown towards him. After all many people who tried to claim him expected him to submit to their will, but Cannibal knew his worth and vowed to never allow a pathetic creature to ride him, but one who’d inevitably catch his eye by accident.

‘I’m going to cut the formalities and be upfront with you and that is because time is limited and I have been so foolishly trying to avoid a predestined fate.’ You tell the dragon who only watched you with curiosity that it made you wonder how many others had been giving the same curtesy, not many you presumed but now wasn’t the time to falter when morning was fast approaching. ‘People, powerful people are going to try and stake claim to you through me in hopes of getting you to yield.’

Cannibal lets out a powerful roar that you felt within your chest, resonating with you in a way that you didn’t think was possible. You could feel his hatred for cowards, weaklings and people who felt the need to claim more than was needed, a spark has been light between the two of you and it was only starting to grow to a fierce but stubborn flame.

‘I had a feeling you would hate that.’ You told the dragon as you moved closer all the while he looked at you, steam puffing from his nostrils, his eyes practically glowing like hellish pits of fire amidst the night. Cannibal was beautiful as he was terrifying and you were growing to like the thrill of having him as your companion, your friend and not just a dragon you simply rode for convince. ‘So here is my proposal, should you accept, you take me as your rider an you shall keep your freedom for I will not clip your wings as you are a dragon through and through, the sky is your domain and I shall not take that from you.’ You added as you watched Cannibal lower his head so that he could meet you eye to eye, interested in what you had to say.

‘Also, there’s just one other thing that I may ask of you cannibal.’ The dragon only huffed as though telling you to go on.

‘Consume any dragon and their rider should their boastfulness overtakes their common sense,’ you told him in seriousness, ‘make them remember to fear the name Cannibal for it is not just a name to take lightly.’ You then took a step back from the dragon and held out of your hand, palm out flat as the nerves within you went wild, this was by far the stupidest and most terrifying thing you have ever done but still you had to see it through. ‘Do we have a deal?’ You finished.

Cannibal studied you for a moment, his eyes looking deep into your own that you felt as though he could see your soul, your true being, before moving his head closer to you and pressing his snout against your hand. It was rough, warm but alive and you couldn’t help but smile at the fact that you had just made history.

You had just became Cannibal’s first rider.

[seeingivy]

bad blood

actor!ryomen sukuna x f!reader

**part of my dream girl fic

songs mentioned: bad blood by taylor swift and obsessed by olivia rodrigo

--

--

“are you of the opinion that all PR is good PR?” 

sukuna can tell that it’s not the time for jokes. that much is obvious to him from the exasperated looks on everyone’s faces at his ill-timed comment – at nanami pinching the bridge of nose, yuuji shooting him an irritated look (with a whisper of a smile on his face), and his manager shoyo’s eyes pinched shut in frustration. 

“i would be inclined to think that, but sukuna is over party trending for the past three hours is giving me a run for my money here.” shoyo responds. 

sukuna diverts his eyes back to the television, shoyo’s computer projecting the trending hashtag onto the screen, and his fingers darting to refresh every few seconds with another set of irritating tweet about him. sukuna’s gotten the hint from the first three, but he has a sneaking inkling that shoyo’s doing this part just to rub it in his face – that it’s his way of saying i told you so without explicitly doing so. 

shoyo was interesting in that way. managers were interesting in that way. 

sukuna wondered to himself how many other careers had these types of dynamics, with “mentors” who served as stand-in parents. telling someone what to do, what not to do – in attempts to guide them from right or wrong – that almost never worked in his case. 

his gut instinct tells him that almost every single profession does. but it also tells him that the other managers can’t be half as annoying as the special spot that entertainment managers take up. 

at the very least, he can appreciate the take that shoyo has on his position. like a firm, strict father figure. he spares no warmth for him – just the way sukuna likes it. 

“so what are we going to do? can we just ignore it?” sukuna asks. 

it’s a loaded question. 

what can you do when you might have possibly tanked every attempt at an entertainment career before it even starts? 

sukuna’s first manager, starla, taught him three simple facts about the entertainment industry. among other things.

in particular, that the warmth was something that sukuna needed to run far, far away from. 

first – attention is hard to attain. anyone can audition to act in a show, but only one person gets picked. you can be the best in the game but it doesn’t matter unless someone looks at you. 

second – once you have it, attention is hard to maintain. if someone takes the time to watch, who’s to say that they’re ever going to watch you again? anyone can be a one hit wonder, but it takes greater skill to stay relevant, to keep people interested in what you’re putting out. 

and third. reputation is everything. it’s best practice to avoid becoming a contrarian. it’s social suicide to your career. 

it seems that sukuna might have nipped the first two in the bud, by accidentally becoming a contrarian. again. after so narrowly missing it the first time. 

that’s the thing that’s the most frustrating in his opinion. that sukuna did almost nothing out of the sorts, that he had followed every single prim and proper rule he could have after his first few tumbles – and that this time, he very simply became a contrarian for dumping the wrong girl at the wrong time. 

sukuna had made his own additions to the facts as time went on. especially after he was dropped by his old manager, promptly when he turned twenty-three. 

lessons that he learned on his own. this situation alone added three to his list. 

first – do not date the daughter of an industry titan. who has a loving fanbase that will attack you if the two of you break up. 

second – do not crack jokes about good and bad PR when you’ve inadvertently created a mess for almost everyone around you. 

and third – tread lightly the week before the biggest break of your career. things move so fast that they’re in absolute shambles before you know it. 

“there’s nothing you can do besides follow the script that the PR team gave you. keep questions about aimee to a minimum at the event tonight. deflect to the show and only the show.” 

sukuna gives shoyo a mock salute. he still doesn’t find it funny. 

in fact, sukuna can tell that he’s had exactly enough for this meeting, marked by the almost immediate exodus he makes from the room, with nanami following in tow. nanami shoots him an apologetic smile over his shoulder as he exits and it’s one that sukuna can appreciate. 

“you know, i really do question your taste in women.” yuuji states. 

sukuna rolls his eyes. 

“you question everyone’s taste in women.” sukuna deadpans. 

yuuji gives him a laugh – the one that he had been holding in from earlier – and smacks him hard against the shoulder. sukuna can feel the pressure that he was trying to ignore compounding in his head, as he sinks down into the couch. 

“i’m being serious though. i just don’t understand what you see in these girls. none of these relationships really have a fighting chance, which at this point, you almost have to be doing on purpose. i know you’re not that dumb.” 

sukuna shrugs. he can tell that he’s being baited into having a conversation, a conversation that he doesn’t want to have, and makes a mental note to yuuji later that he shouldn’t lay it on so thick. 

“your point is?” sukuna mutters. 

“i’m not trying to make a point. i’m trying to understand why you’re so…so keen on pursing things you know won’t work out. it’s almost like you don’t want it to work out for you.” 

“i don’t know what you’re talking about. you sound like an idiot.” 

yuuji shakes his head, almost like he’s giving him a sentencing. trying to tell him, making it a point that he’s been caught red handed, that he has to give into the conversation.

“don’t tell me you’re really not trying in earnest because of what happened?” 

sukuna can feel his frustration coming to a head, right in the center of his forehead. it always felt like feelings were concentrated there, right in that sensitive part of his head that made him rush to anger. 

“it’s not about that.” 

yuuji takes the hint. he jumps over the line as often as he can, but won’t push any farther. 

“i just think that you should give things a real, earnest try. i know that none of us can really understand what happened, but…but that doesn’t mean that it’s going to happen every time. you…you shouldn’t be happy that you’re not trying to find love for real.” 

sukuna clicks his tongue in his cheek. 

“and who said i was doing that?” 

yuuji sighs. 

“you’re always the same you know. you never try for real because you’re scared you’re going to strike out. you….you still…you’re still afraid to pursue someone you actually like because you think…” 

yuuji doesn’t finish the sentence. but sukuna knows the answer, because he’s said it before. 

you’re afraid to pursue someone you actually like because you think they’ll realize there’s nothing to like about you. 

--

--

“do you ever think about pushing yourself creatively?” 

you wonder how many times someone can ask the same question, worded differently. 

in mimi’s case, you’ve reached a whopping count of six. categorically organized – three times while you were out doing your morning coffee, twice over dinner, and today marked a new first,  while writing music at the piano. 

each question exactly the same, every response exactly the same. 

“no. i want to stay exactly the same for the rest of my life.” you deadpan. 

your dry humor earns you a laugh from mimi. in all fairness, it almost always does, because it’s very easy to make her laugh. because she’s a person who is easily pleased, very outgoing, who very simply put, enjoys most things. 

“i wouldn’t even be shocked if you said that to me. your google calendar is my very worst nightmare, you know that?” 

“my google calendar is perfectly organized. just as it should be.” 

“i mean. very organized. i am very appreciative that you’re on time to all of our meetings, which is very rare with your generation.” 

“you’re in the same generation as us. you’re not even that much older than me.” you deadpan. 

“okay, but being a mother has aged me like ten years. all of my friends do pilates in their free time, make brunch plans for fun.” 

“i’m your friend. i don’t do pilates in my free time. and i eat at five in the morning on the dot everyday.” 

“yeah. you’ve just take up different odd hobbies, but it’s basically the same thing.” 

you scoff, as you flip the page on the stand of the piano. 

you wonder how often mimi thinks about that type of thing. the life that she used to live. the fact that you could be doing all the things that she couldn’t necessarily do anymore. it makes you wonder if that’s why she’s so adamant. 

“i could be doing drugs you know.” 

“you should be doing drugs!” 

well, that answers your question. 

“i can’t wait to see what your child does in the future. you’ve set such high expectations!” 

mimi rolls her eyes. she’s very easily pleased, very outgoing, and filled with an overwhelming well of patience to counteract your stubbornness. 

it’s granted that she almost never wins, that your firmness in your decision always stands at the end of the day, but it doesn’t mitigate her efforts to try. you’re betting that she’s going to give her very stubborn daughter a run for her money in a few years when she’s older. 

“i don’t mean that you should actually do drugs. or maybe i do. some of my other writers love to drink or smoke weed to get through writer’s block. it just a little shift to push you to some new limits.” 

“perfect. i’ll just try to do some ketamine before my next song so that it sounds better.” 

mimi sighs. 

“i’m not telling you to go do horse tranquilizers. i’m stating a very simple fact, that you tend to gravitate towards what is comfortable for you. in your personal life, in your friends, in your songwriting. you’ve found a sound that you work great with, themes that resonate with people. but you’ve been stuck there, right where you know people want you. it wouldn’t hurt to try pushing the limits here and there.” 

you scoff. 

“you sound like a shitty inspirational quote.” 

mimi shakes her head. 

“i often find that stubbornness to approach new things at the end of the day creates a sort of resentment towards anything that stimulates new growth. and keeps you stuck exactly where you are currently. stagnant.” 

you don’t like the evaluation. the sentencing that she’s given you, that she’s been giving you for the past few months. 

that you aren’t going anywhere. 

you not liking it doesn’t make it any less true. but her saying it over and over again doesn’t propel you into doing anything about it either. 

“and what if i fail to do this whole moving thing you’re talking about?” you jest. 

mimi pinches her lips in a line. 

“then it proves to me that you’re just approaching this entire thing wrong. you’re not winning an award, you’re writing a song. it’s not an examination that you’re completing, it’s just something you’re trying to say.” 

you give her a dry smile. 

“and what if no one wants to hear what i have to say?” 

“that’s where you and i will disagree. i fear people are on the edge of their seats waiting for it.” 

you snort. 

“are you not a fan of me sticking it to idiots like jake nicholson and aimee lynch?” 

mimi gives you a smug grin. 

“a huge fan. but i can tell that you’ve got something else under the surface that’s dying to be let out.” 

“i suppose that’ll just have to wait for today.” you respond. 

mimi shrugs. 

“i’ll try again tomorrow.” she affirms. 

you’re not sure why she tries. you’re still going to say no. 

--

sukuna’s manager’s strategy was very simple. all he had to do was save face for a week – a week until the show came out. tell people to watch the premiere on the red carpet, throw in an anecdote about filming here and there, and that was that. 

granted, his job wasn’t exactly hard. the ensemble cast did most of the work, satoru’s loud voice combined with how energetic yuuji is, allowed him to slip through the cracks and make it inside the venue without any unsavory questions about aimee. 

sukuna looks across the room to where the two of them are standing near the bar, glasses of ice in their hand, satoru no doubt flicking his charm and stupid pickup lines at everyone. he understood the strategy – that sukuna having the opportunity to talk created a greater risk for him to say something he shouldn’t – but it just made the event boring for him. 

sukuna hated being on the sidelines. 

quite literally the sidelines, because the table he was currently occupying was pushed against the wall. he would retreat back to the main table in the center when the two of them returned, but judging by how loud they were laughing, it didn’t seem like it was going to be any time soon. 

“excuse me.” 

sukuna’s thrown out of his train of thought by the voice, only to find he’s accompanied by two girls at his side. sukuna inches his glass of soda closer to him, noting the sparky stars gleaming on their eyelids, accompanied with layers of beaded bracelets on their wrists. 

fans. sukuna’s found his in. 

“can i help you?” sukuna asks. 

the two girls look at each other, a nervous laugh escaping their lips, as they squeeze their intertwined hands together. he prays to god they’re not here for aimee. 

“are you ryomen sukuna?” 

sukuna smiles, looping his elbow across the back of the chair, and smiling. there’s no distaste in their voice – so they most likely aren’t. he’s won. 

“sure am. who might you be?” sukuna asks. 

“we’re addison and abigail.” they respond. 

sukuna uses his free hand, gesturing for them to take the free chairs across from him. he watches as they both widen their eyes, stumbling knees hitting the bottom of the table as he readjusts and leans back. 

interviews and networking he wasn’t allowed to do. that much was clear. but talking to fans caused no trouble, and it wasn’t explicitly off limits.

it gave him time to do what he did best. charm people. 

“addison and abigail. to what do i owe the pleasure?” sukuna asks. 

“we don’t want to take up any of your time.” abigail starts. 

“really, we’re sure you’re quite busy. this is a big event and all and you probably have to do interviews and all that.” addison adds. 

sukuna grins. 

“i’ll always make time for you.” 

he watches as their eyes widen, abigail’s lips pinched shut together by the bluntness in his statement, as he lifts his glass and presses it to his lips. 

“i have a question.” sukuna states.

“anything!” addison replies. 

her response is too fast. so fast that sukuna can almost clock that she’s realized that it’s too fast – that she’s embarrassed at how eager she was to respond. he shoots her a kind smile in response, before leaning forward and bracing his forearms against the table. 

“how did the two of you sneak in here? secret boyfriend let you in?” sukuna asks. 

the two of them offer him an awkward laugh, slightly releasing their shoulders, as they lift their hands and very adamantly gesture the opposite. 

“not at all. we got selected to attend the event through the fan program.” abigail responds. 

sukuna smirks. 

“here for me?” sukuna asks. 

the two of them widen their eyes, almost like they’ve been caught in an awkward situation. because they’re very obviously not here for him. 

the fan invites were given for the singers and affiliated studios. and he’d be caught dead before singing live in front of an audience. 

“i’m so sorry. i don’t mean to…” 

sukuna immediately retreats. 

“you do realize that i’m not a singer, right?” sukuna asks. 

“what?” abigail asks. 

“i don’t sing. there’s no way that you could be here for me.” sukuna clarifies. 

the two of them breathe a sigh of relief, abigail giving him a jokingly irritated glare as he shoots the two of them a smile. 

“relax. i’m just pulling your leg. it’s all in good fun. we can take a picture and everything, whatever you want.” sukuna responds. 

the two of them breathe a sigh of relief. 

“really?” she asks. 

sukuna nods. 

“that’s so sweet, thank you so much. we have a friend who’s a really big fan, so we were trying to get her a signed shirt.” 

“a signed shirt it is.” sukuna responds, noting that they reach into their bag with the shirt and marker prepared. 

“oh my god. i thought you were….you were going to be a diva or something.” abigail responds. 

“me? a diva?” sukuna jokes. 

“you wouldn’t believe it. god, some people can be so rude. one time, aimee lynch got us…” 

addison’s quick to respond, shoving her elbow into her side to gesture for her to be quiet. sukuna narrow their eyes at the two of them, before rolling her eyes. 

sukuna, in the split second, debates if he should respond. if it would go against the deal he made – to be quiet, to not cause any noise – because they could go running and post about it on twitter.

he decides against his better judgment, only because it’s potently clear they’ve been terrorized by aimee before. 

“got you kicked out of an event?” sukuna asks. 

“yeah…” addison mumbles. 

“she does that often. it’s a whole load of shit. i’m glad you’re here.” sukuna responds. 

“yeah. we were just really upset because we were actually supposed to meet y/n that day. we had tweeted to her that we got kicked out before we made it to the meet and greet and her team organized a whole like facetime call and sent us merch, but it was super annoying.” abigail responds. 

sukuna nods, only because he knows all too well, that it’s exactly in her character to kick fans out of events. their “desperation” always got on her nerves. 

“well, i hope you get to meet her tonight. she is here, right?” sukuna asks. 

“yeah. she invited us personally since we missed out last time.”

sukuna smiles. 

“that’s sweet. i hope you get to meet her later.” sukuna responds. 

--

--

there’s a patterned knock on the door of your dressing room. two fast, two slow, two fast. it’s accompanied by the door swinging open and the reflection of megumi standing in the mirror with a cup of iced coffee in his hand. 

you shoot him an excited smile, apologetically shooing away your hair and makeup team from the chair, to get up and greet him. 

“coffee? for moi?” you ask, exaggerating every syllable. 

megumi rolls his eyes, placing the cold cup into the palm of your hand, as you shoot him a smile.

megumi hates when you exaggerate the syllables – which is precisely the reason that you do it. you have an inkling that he secretly loves it, because he’s a secret fan of your antics. 

“figured you needed it. you look like a hag.” megumi responses. 

you snort down a laugh, as you take a sip from the overly sweet coffee. 

“hag is a new one. you’ve always had such a way with words, my love.” you joke. 

you return back to your chair, gesturing for him to take the free one at your side, as you reach for your phone and read through the last texts you got from mimi. all confirmations – that your guitar and band have arrived, that you’re all good to go at the end of the hour. 

“is romeo here?” you ask. 

you can see megumi’s irritated expression out of the corner of your eye, accompanied with a pink flush that creeps up his neck. 

“what’s his name again? yuki?” you joke. 

“yuuji.” megumi corrects, his voice almost stern. 

“okay, relax. pipe it down three notches, juliet.” 

megumi lifts his hand, awkwardly rubbing it against the back of his neck, as you drop your phone in your lap and narrow your eyes at him. 

“what did he do today?”

“you don’t care.” megumi mumbles. 

“and that hasn’t stopped you from telling me in the past.” 

everyday, for the past eight months, you received a barrage of texts from megumi. ranging across every emotion in the human bandwidth, but always about the same thing. 

his new co-star. how great his hair look, what text he sent him that morning, how his skin looked perfect in the light. you would nip that type of dialogue from anyone else in the bud. but megumi wasn’t anyone else. 

“but you’re asking. which means you can’t complain, because you basically warranted it out of me.” 

you roll your eyes. 

“yeah, yeah.” 

“he got us matching pins for press this week. they’re like little cartoon versions of us. but he also got one for our other co-star nobara, so it doesn’t really count.” 

you shrug. 

“but he still got you one. so it does count. that’s cute.” you respond.

“but she has one too.” 

“but did he give it to you as a group or individually?” you ask. 

“individually.” megumi responds. 

you smile. 

“exactly. it means something different when it’s individually.” you respond. 

“you’re delusional.” megumi responds. 

you roll your eyes. 

“you could benefit from being a little delusional, drama queen.”  

“and then when we were coming here, i was telling him that you were going to be here and he got super excited. he remembered that i always used to get you coffee before your first show so he actually stopped our car and made sure that i was able to get some from you since you’re performing tonight.” 

you grin. 

“not technically my first show, but i appreciate the effort. I love him already. especially if he’s so passionate about my caffeine addiction.” 

“it’s from his coffee shop that he works at with his brother. they used to work there together when they were younger and like…he was telling me all about it. how the two of them used to work there after school and that the owners were like their second parents. they almost went down under a few years ago but they both had enough acting money so they invested. he was even introducing me to them and shit. like fully introducing me to people he views as family.” 

you nod. 

“wow, juliet. when’s the wedding?” you ask. 

“shut up.” megumi responds. 

“but really, that’s actually very sweet. he seems like a great guy.” 

“he is a great guy. he wants to meet you too, you know?” megumi responds. 

“that would be against your better judgment. i’m going to tell him all about your little crush. and propose marriage on your behalf like you’re my property in the 18th century or something.” you respond. 

“your jokes never get funnier.” megumi deadpans. 

“and yet you’re still here.” 

“his brother is here too. the one who used to date aimee.” 

you widen your eyes. 

“poor guy. it’s probably a blood bath out there for him.” 

“he made it through press unscathed, but they’re telling him to keep a low profile. but yuuji’s all worried because he tends to get erratic and take things into his own hands sometimes.” 

“what are they saying again?” you ask. 

“fans are mad because the report that went out said sukuna dumped her or something.” 

you snort. 

“is that even bad when she was like basically cheating on him the whole time?” you ask. 

“don’t think he knows that.” 

you shake your head. 

“really?” 

megumi shrugs. 

“i get the impression he didn’t care about the relationship too much.” 

you nod. 

“well, then my song won’t hurt his feelings too bad when he finds out they used to date.” 

you push up out of the chair, gesturing to your outfit as megumi gives you an approving nod. you link your arms together, pushing out of the door onto the floor of the venue, and continue your conversation in lowered voices. 

“do you want me to punch jake?” megumi asks.

“and ruin your pretty little baby hands? i would never.” 

megumi rolls his eyes, as the lights dim, and the two of you direct your eyes to the stage. it’s a long introduction, all of the producers and affiliates taking the time to thank everyone for attending. you’re performing at the end of the hour, which gives you enough time to zone this out and focus on the song. 

“our very first performance is from one of our affiliates at dancing lady studios – aimee lynch with guest star jake nicholson.” 

you and megumi widen your eyes as you turn to look at each other, as you all but crush megumi’s arm in your grasp. the two of them walk out onto the stage – and you note that her sparkly silver is almost identical to the outfit you had been wearing on tour for the past few months.

and that jake’s using the guitar that you gifted him on his birthday. 

you know she’s doing it on purpose. that she knows that about you – that you’ll connect dots and draw conclusions – to exactly what she’s trying to do. 

piss you off. 

Did you think we'd be fine? Still got scars on my back from your knife So don't think it's in the past These kind of wounds they last and they last Now did you think it all through? All these things will catch up to you And time can heal, but this won't So if you come in my way, just don't

Oh, it's so sad to think about the good times You and I

megumi leans down, voice quiet as he whispers in your ear. 

“this is going to do rounds on kids bop.” 

you snort. 

“they would be so lucky.” you respond back. 

'Cause baby, now we got bad blood You know it used to be mad love So take a look what you've done 'Cause baby, now we got bad blood (hey!) Now we got problems And I don't think we can solve 'em You made a really deep cut And baby, now we got bad blood (hey!)

“did you know they were going to do this?” megumi asks. 

you shake your head. 

“there’s no need to worry. i’m always prepared.” 

--

“unless i’m not mistaken, you didn’t catch any strays tonight. how can one be so lucky?” shoko jokes. 

“we can’t all be the chosen ones.” sukuna responds back. 

“the night is still young. a girl can only dream.” shoko responds. 

sukuna rolls his eyes before smiling at her and trying to shake shoko’s grasp off of him, as he turns his attention back to the stage. with the event in full swing, he was allowed to return to the central table, only because the group of them around him to keep track of him. 

shoyo’s doing, he was sure. 

but he’s sure that shoyo was somewhere fast asleep in his bed right now, having the most restful nap he’s taken in months. sukuna’s inclined that he’ll feel the same way tonight when he goes to bed, with the promise of no scolding from his team since he did, in fact, not catch aimee’s wrath tonight. 

it was attributed to someone else tonight. he’s not exactly sure who, but at this point, all he can do is be thankful that it wasn't him. 

“who were you talking to earlier?” shoko asks. 

“fans who got invited to the event.” sukuna responds. 

“poor girls. they got assaulted by the smell of your cologne and had to lose brain cells by talking to you?” shoko jokes. 

sukuna scoffs. 

“that already happened when you walked into the room. don’t kid yourself, ieiri.” 

“you should learn some manners. is that any way to talk to a woman?” shoko asks. 

“can you guys shut the fuck up?” 

shoko and sukuna turn their heads to the left to find satoru standing there, eyes razor focused and glued to the stage. 

“what stick is up your ass?” shoko asks. 

“it’s y/n’s turn to perform.” satoru seethes. 

shoko snorts. 

“don’t tell me that your dream girl is in attendance? how are you even standing straight right now?” shoko asks. 

“pure adrenaline, bitch.” satoru responds. 

sukuna and shoko widen their eyes as they share a look – a quiet communication that satoru’s being more erratic than normal and to leave him be – as they turn their attention back to the stage. 

the bright lights shine red on the stage as the visuals go up, a twisting and turning illusion against the back screen. there’s a rising platform in the center and all he gets a glimpse of are sparkly star tights. 

La-da-da-da, da-da-da, la-da-da-da-da La-da-da-da, da-da-da

If I told you how much I think about her You'd think I was in love And if you knew how much I looked at her pictures You would think we're best friends

'Cause I know her star sign, I know her blood type I've seen every movie she's been in and, oh god, she's beautiful And I know you loved her, and I know I'm butthurt But I can't help it, no, I can't help it

I'm so obsessed with your ex (uh-huh) I know she's been asleep on my side of your bed And I can feel it I'm starin' at her like I wanna get hurt And I remember every detail you have ever told me So be careful, baby

I'm so obsessed with your ex (ah) Yeah, I'm so obsessed with your ex (ah) La-da-da-da, da-da-da

sukuna can feel his heart pounding in his throat. he grabs yuuji by the shoulder, yanking him close from the fabric of his shirt, and whispers. 

“who is that?” 

“were you born under a rock? that’s y/n.” 

sukuna watches as you skip around the stage, bathed in the dark red lights surrounding the stage and the visuals with you in the background. 

maybe sukuna was born under a rock. he was one thousand percent sure that he would remember something like this. 

“the guy that was up with aimee earlier. she’s jake’s ex-girlfriend. they were singing about her.” yuuji whispers. 

“is she singing about aimee?” sukuna asks. 

yuuji nods. 

“they have some weird twisted history. especially with jake, i think. him and aimee have had eyes for each other since like…forever.” 

he watches as you walk over to the left side of the stage, crouching down into the view of the camera and right across from where jake and aimee are sitting, irritated looks painted on their faces. 

sukuna notes that you're looking right at them. full blown, direct eye contact.

Is she friends with your friends? Does she give great head?  Do you think about her? No, I'm fine, it doesn't matter, tell me Is she easy-going? Never controlling? Well-traveled? Well-read? Oh god, she makes me so upset

I'm so obsessed with your ex (ah) She's been asleep on my side in your bed (ah, whoa) I'm so obsessed with your ex (god, she makes me so upset, ah) I'm so obsessed with your, with your ex

sukuna’s frustration compounds again. 

because he can’t simply understand how he’s the one getting publicly punished, when aimee’s been in love with some other guy the entire time. and that knowing her, she most definitely leaked the news about how she was blindsided on purpose, just to ruin his career. 

“if i was y/n, i’d just punch them both in the face. then start dating one of her boyfriends or something.” shoko states.

the idea comes to sukuna almost instantly. and he makes a mental note to apologize to shoyo later.  

--

when you get off the stage and retreat back to your table near the wall, you quickly scan through your texts from mimi. 

[mimi]: Three versions slated for release. Could potentially block you getting the #1 spot. 

[mimi]: Fingers crossed, but things are faring over well. People love the song.  

[mimi]: Obviously. 

you set the phone face down at the table and sink down into your chair. you don’t even get a second to think because before you know it, someone’s slid into the chair right across from you, hunched forward into your space over the small chair. 

pink hair, arms littered with tattoos. there was something oddly familiar about him. 

“you’re just the girl i wanted to see.” he states. 

you narrow your eyes at him. you’re unsure which one he is. producers trying to poach for their studio, people looking to network, or the perverts that somehow get let into events like this. 

“is that right?” you ask, tone dry. 

the guy offers you an over-eager nod, accompanied with a glimmering smirk. 

he’s attractive and you can tell from the look on his face that he knows it. for some reason, you’re almost positive that he makes sure of it. toned muscles, hair so perfect that it has to be styled. to the point where it feels calculated.

you lean forward, placing your cheek in the palm of your hand as you smile right back at him. he leans forward almost immediately. it was almost too easy. 

“i don’t think we’ve ever met before. i’d think i’d remember that.” you respond. 

“only in my dreams.” 

you fight the urge to scoff. you’re sure that one worked out well for him in the past. It's the only reason someone would say something so corny and mean it.

you hold your hand out to him, noting that he extends the handshake for far too long. 

“y/n.”

“ryomen sukuna.” 

that’s where you knew him from. this was megumi’s co-star. romeo’s brother. 

“from jujutsu kaisen, right?” you ask. 

sukuna gives you a glimmering grin. you note that he has a dimple on the left side. 

“know everything about me, don’t you?” 

you snort. 

“sure do. you’ve got me all figured out, sweetheart.” you deadpan. 

sukuna leans back, narrowing his eyes at the comment. you can tell that he’s rethinking what to say next. 

“i know about the show because of megumi.” you clarify. 

“we go way back.” sukuna responds. 

you lean back against the chair and cross your arms over your chest. you've got him right where you want him.

“really?” you ask. 

sukuna nods. 

“when did you meet him?” 

“elementary school. he was always the quiet type.” 

sukuna pauses. 

“speaking of types, what’s yours?” 

you fight the urge to laugh. there was no way he could truly be this forward. but then again, you figure his deep urge to get back at aimee right now was probably inhibiting his good judgement at the current moment. 

“why do you ask?” 

“you’re a smart girl. i know you can figure it out.” 

you take the bait. 

“i’ll give it a shot.” you respond. 

“that’s my girl.” 

you smile before leaning forward to make sure that he hears you properly. 

“your name is ryomen sukuna. indie actor for the most part, but you recently got signed on as part of the lead ensemble for mappa’s new show, jujutsu kaisen. you’ve gotten pretty far considering all things, which i’m sure comes as a byproduct of the whole charm bit that you do and from what i’ve heard, some pretty decent acting. and while you’ve done mostly well, you made the brutal mistake of becoming a social pariah by dancing with the tabloid devil, aimee lynch. you’ve ended up on their bad side and now, in some weird type of way – i’ll admit, i’m not exactly sure how – are trying to elicit my help to get you back in people’s good graces. by lying, of course.” 

you watch as sukuna’s eyes widen, before he leans back, his cheeks the slightest shade of pink as he swallows hard. and you give him your sincerest smile before pulling out your phone and digging for the photo in your favorites. 

of you and megumi in grade school, standing hand in hand. 

“i think i’d remember if the human version of pinkie pie from my little pony was running around my elementary school, sukuna.” you state. 

and shockingly enough, he only gives you a smile in response – like he’s almost delighted by the fact that what you've just read caught him in a lie– as he sticks his tongue in the side of his cheek and makes a clicking sound. 

“got me all figured out, don’t you dollface?” 

“you’re painfully obvious, like most men. i’ll see you around, sukuna.” you respond, as you turn on your heel to walk away. 

but he’s almost too fast with it, slithering his hand down from your elbow to your wrist, pulling slightly to beckon you to turn back. and he gives you an…a more earnest smile this time as he raises your knuckles to his lips, and leaves a kiss in between the pointer in the middle. 

“that’s a promise, sweetheart.” 

--

--

next part linked here

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[nothingbutsweetwords]

ɴᴏʙᴏᴅʏ'ꜱ ꜱᴏɴ, ɴᴏʙᴏᴅʏ'ꜱ ᴅᴀᴜɢʜᴛᴇʀ

ᴀᴇᴍᴏɴᴅ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ!ɴɪᴇᴄᴇ

"ᴛʜɪꜱ ʜᴀɴᴅꜱ ʜᴀᴅ ᴛᴏ ʟᴇᴛ ɪᴛ ɢᴏ ꜰʀᴇᴇ ᴀɴᴅ…"

Word count: 7,150.

Fandom: House of the Dragon.

Pairing: Aemond x Reader!Velaryon!Niece.

REUNION — 11. Her.

Her heart skipped a beat when, inadvertently, she nearly collided with him at the threshold of Helaena’s door. Although she should have anticipated the possibility of finding him there, her thoughts had absorbed her so completely that she forgot about that eventuality.

Aemond looked at her intently before slightly inclining his head in a greeting that felt as harsh as a cold slap. “Niece” he pronounced with a formality that seemed unusual, like a barrier that had risen.

It was as if that single word was a reminder of the distance that now lay between them, a sharp contrast to the days when they had called each other by their names, when their voices had been soft and intimate, meant only for each other’s ears.

Upon entering, a feeling of relief enveloped her, as if the warmth of the place allowed her to release the breath she had been holding and as if the very air within had the power to soothe her troubled spirit. 

It was a reflection of Helaena: decorated with soft tones and peculiar objects that seemed to have been chosen with almost ritualistic care. There were antique furnishings and pale blue silk curtains, and delicate aromas of dried flowers and spices pervaded the air. Everything created an atmosphere that made her feel like she was in a world apart, far from the realities waiting outside those walls.

“It is lovely to see you, princess” Helaena said, her voice as soft and ethereal as she remembered, a melody that always seemed to float in the air. Despite the years, she retained that magical aura.

“And you as well, princess” she replied, returning the smile. “I was wondering, could I interest you in a walk through the gardens?”

Helaena’s smile deepened as she nodded, then rose from her chair and approached her. She remembered that she had never been fond of physical contact, so with a subtle gesture, she decided not to offer her arm, respecting that particular trait that had always characterized her.

They walked side by side, exchanging words about trivial matters as they made their way through the halls. The bustle that filled the place and the presence of others compelled them to keep the conversation light, avoiding topics that might attract idle glances. However, there was an undercurrent of unspoken thoughts, a tacit understanding flowing between them.

Eventually, the noise of the castle faded as they reached the gardens. The winding paths were lined with freshness and color, and the murmur of the fountains created a soothing symphony. The sky was a clear blue, dotted with fluffy clouds, and the air was filled with the sweet perfume of flowers and the crisp and salty scent of the sea.

“I heard that you got married” she began gently as she chose her words with care. She watched Helaena closely, noticing the way her serene expression flickered for a brief moment, a fleeting shadow crossing her face. It was a subtle change, almost imperceptible, but it revealed melancholy. A pang of guilt quickly followed, realizing she had touched a delicate subject. “I apologize, I did not intend to…”

“It is quite alright, do not fret” Helaena raised a hand to reassure her, a gesture filled with understanding that eased her discomfort. “This marriage may not have been what any of us would have wished for, but some things simply must be.”

She nodded, feeling a small ache as she saw the resignation in her aunt’s blue eyes, those that used to shine with such pure light and now seemed to have lost some of their sparkle. “He may not be the greatest husband, but he is a good brother” she added, offering a faint smile. Her words were an attempt at comfort, though she knew they carried a weight, an acknowledgment of the complexities and compromises Helaena had to endure.

She found herself wondering how much she had sacrificed, how many dreams had been set aside for the sake of duty. 

“And are you happy here?” she asked, hoping to delve into Helaena’s feelings, into that deep well of emotions her aunt had always carried with her. There was something in her expression, a latent sadness, a yearning for something more that she couldn’t ignore.

Helaena paused, gazing into the distance before she spoke. “Happiness is a curious thing,” she said with a wistful tone, “sometimes it hides in the most unexpected places. I believe I have discovered a peace here that I did not foresee, though it is not what one might imagine.”

She felt admiration and sadness as she listened, recognizing the strength it took to find peace in less-than-ideal circumstances. “That can be a form of happiness” she offered gently, aiming to convey her understanding. “It may differ, but it is nonetheless genuine.”

Helaena smiled softly. “Indeed” she agreed. “It is a gift in itself, and I have learned to cherish it.”

She nodded slowly. She knew her aunt had always had a special connection to the world, a perception that transcended the visible, touching the mystical, the ineffable, and that what she had found was not resignation but a deep acceptance of her place in the grand scheme of things.

“And how has time treated you?” Helaena asked.

She swallowed, aware of the subtext in her own response. “Time can be relentless, yet it is also revealing” she said, with a tone that tried to remain neutral. “However, Dragonstone has truly brought me joy and transformed me.” A faint smile touched her lips as she allowed herself to reflect on the place she had come to love. “I hope you might visit someday; Aegon’s garden is as beautiful as they say. Perhaps less vibrant than this, but just as lovely. There are blueberry trees and numerous pines” she added.

Helaena nodded, her eyes shining. “Yes, I do like it very much” she said.

She cleared her throat, as if preparing to pose a question whose weight could change the course of the conversation. “How has he been?” she finally asked, her voice dropping to a whisper, almost as if fearing that the wind might carry her question away before receiving an answer. 

“My dear brother is quite hard to decipher” she responded. “He has merely been… simply existing.” She paused, then added, “I do believe your visit might prove beneficial for him.”

A sharp, bitter laugh escaped her lips before she could stop it, a sound born of frustration and the nagging doubt that her presence could make any difference. Her expression twisted with sadness and cynicism, the weight of her feelings pressing down on her. “I am uncertain that my presence is what he requires” she muttered, the words tinged with a bitterness she hadn’t intended to show. 

Helaena, however, only chuckled softly at her response, her gaze knowing. “You may be surprised” she said with a smile. “Sometimes, fate takes its toll on us in ways we cannot control” Helaena mused. “I am sure he wishes to speak with you.”

She knew that when Helaena spoke with certainty about the future, her words were more a revelation than a mere observation, so a spark of hope emerged within her.

The sea breeze gently caressed their faces as they continued walking through the gardens. The sound of waves breaking against the sand in the distance provided a soothing backdrop that accompanied their conversation.

“I recall when we used to play here” she said, her eyes sweeping over the landscape that had witnessed so many shared laughs and secrets. “We were so different then, so innocent.”

Helaena nodded. “Time alters us all… Yet, at times, I wonder if we truly change or if we merely uncover who we are meant to be.”

She furrowed her brow, pondering these words. “Perhaps that is the case” she murmured, more to herself than to Helaena, as if trying to unravel the hidden meaning behind that reflection. There was something in her aunt’s serenity that had always puzzled her, a kind of deep calm that contrasted with the turmoil that seemed to envelop the rest of the world.

“So, Silverwing” Helaena said suddenly, smiling with a glint of complicity in her face. She smiled at the simple mention.

“It was magnificent, Helaena” she said, filled with emotion. “I feel as though all the years I awaited have finally borne fruit.”

“I knew it would come to you,” Helaena said softly. “It was destined to be.” She lowered her gaze, her voice descending. “I did see a story repeating” she murmured. “The connection between you and her is deeper than you imagine, and your destiny is tied to hers in ways we do not yet understand.”

The words lingered in the air, imbued with mystery, as if the future was traced on an invisible line only she could see.

She fell silent, immersed in the depth of what she had just heard. The sensation of standing on the edge of a premonition, of knowing that something was coming but being unable to see it clearly, was both intriguing and unsettling. Her mind raced with possibilities, questions, and the fear of the unknown. With a nervous laugh that barely masked her growing unease, she asked, “Should I be fearful?”

Helaena’s expression softened, her lips parting to speak, but before she could respond, the sound of approaching footsteps shattered the fragile moment. A maid appeared before them, and with a respectful bow, informed them that Rhaenyra was awaiting her presence.

She nodded, thanking the maid with a faint smile. She turned to Helaena, who said, “It appears that duty always beckons.” 

“Shall I accompany you back to your chambers?” she asked, hoping to prolong their time together, even if only for a few more minutes. There was so much left unsaid.

“I would prefer to stay here a little longer” Helaena replied softly, almost dreamy.

She nodded again, though her mind remained tangled. As she headed toward the exit of the gardens, her steps grew slower, and before crossing the threshold back to the castle, she turned once more to look at Helaena. There, standing among the flowers and the murmurs of the garden, Helaena with her enigma and wisdom seemed to hold answers to questions she hadn’t yet fully formed. 

As she stood there, torn between staying and leaving, a flicker of movement caught her eye. From one of the nearby galleries, she saw Jacaerys making his way toward the garden. A spark of intrigue ignited within her at the sight of her brother, his presence unexpected.

She watched him for a brief moment, curiosity mingling with a sense of foreboding. With questions swirling in her mind, she finally turned away, continuing on her way.

After a quiet dinner with her family, she retired to her room. Although the bath was meant to be a refuge of calm, it did little to soothe her agitated mind; the words continued to echo in her head like an unrelenting echo.

Once in bed, frustration took hold of her, marking every line of her face with the hardness of unease. Uncertainty gnawed at her inside. Why would he want to talk to her? After years of cold silence, after so many unanswered letters and desperate pleas, what could he possibly have to say? 

She wrestled with the idea of seeking him out. Why should she be the one to make the first move when he had maintained such a cruel distance? She recalled how that very morning, during breakfast, he had shown not the slightest indication of wanting to address her, and that indifference had felt like a calculated insult, intensifying the raw edge of her anger.

The annoyance turned into an oppressive presence. She felt trapped in a cruel paradox: cast aside and yet irresistibly drawn to him. She closed her eyes, grumbling. Worse still, memories began to flood her, each one more painful than the last. Everything about him was etched into her being in an indelible way, and yet, he remained an enigma, a question without an answer.

It was tormenting to dream of the delicate act of brushing his long, silken hair; distressing to aspire to feel the softness of his skin under her fingers; exasperating to imagine being close enough to trace the features that the years had added and molded on his face; unbearable to visualize his imposing presence beside her, and maddening to fantasize about kissing the lips she once knew.

Would it be enough to stand on tiptoe to reach him, or would he have to bend down as well to close their distance? Would his mouth still hold the same sweetness it had that night? Would she still melt under the heat of his proximity with the same intensity?

Then more demoralizing questions arose: Would she still be the only one whose arrival softened his gaze with relief and illuminated it with joy? Would she still be the only one he allowed himself to show his true vulnerability to, the only refuge for his battered soul?

Each memory, each fantasy, was an echo of what had been and what could have been, both a comfort and a torment. Resignation and hope intertwined within her, each struggling to dominate the other, leaving her at an emotional crossroads. The battle between the desire to forget him and the longing to reclaim him was so intense that it offered no peace.

She wanted to hate him for what he had caused her, for the endless nights of loneliness and tears shed in his name. She wanted to hate him for the agony of waiting for a sign that never came, for the affection that remained alive despite the pain. Yet, despite her resolve, she could not. Her soul, bruised and defenseless, could not harbor that hatred. 

“Fuck” she cursed under her breath, burying her face in the pillow as if she could smother everything within her. But it was futile; every emotion refused to be silenced, every memory clung tightly to her soul.

Finally, unable to bear the pressure in her chest any longer, she got out of bed with a nearly frantic impulse. She needed to see him, and needed answers. She hastily dressed, her determined hands slipping into a silk robe that barely covered her attire, and took a candle to light her way.

She left her room, traversing the hallways she had long abandoned. Each step echoed in the night’s silence, and her thoughts raced uncontrollably, driven by an uncontainable longing. She didn’t know what she would find at the end of this path, but something inside her urged her to keep going, to face whatever awaited her in the darkness.

With each step, she questioned her decision, but then she saw him. There, approaching her. The dim light of the candle barely illuminated his features, but she didn’t need more to recognize him. They both stood frozen, staring at each other, each trapped in their own thoughts.

She wondered if he was there for her, if he had felt the same impulse, or if their meeting was merely a coincidence. Before he could confirm the latter, her lips moved forward, and though her voice tried to remain steady, a subtle tremor betrayed her nerves.

“I wished to speak with you” she said, her words hanging in the air, a tentative bridge between the two of them, each waiting for the other to cross it. “Shall we go to your chambers?”

He nodded, and though the dimness made it hard to read his expression, the surprise was evident in the tension of his posture, in the way his shoulders lifted slightly.

He walked silently beside her, guiding her to his room. The space had remained untouched, as if the years had not left their mark. Everything was in place, meticulously ordered.

She set the candle on the bedside table, and with an instinctive gesture, her gaze landed on a sapphire resting in the same spot as the one she had gifted him so many years ago. This one was smaller, less imposing, yet its presence in that familiar place pierced her core in a way she hadn't anticipated. A dull ache pierced her chest.

Without saying a word, she walked to the window, seeking the fresh air that seemed just beyond the glass. She closed her eyes, trying to steady her irregular breathing, but the words slipped from her lips before she could stop them.

“Why?” The word cut through the air like a knife, sharpened by years of pain, unrequited love, and accumulated fear that had festered in silence. She turned on her heels to face him, her voice trembling with the intensity of what she felt. At that moment, more than ever, she needed the truth. 

Why had he ignored her for so long? What invisible force had kept him away, preventing him from responding, from seeking her, even once?

She wasn't sure what answer she was yearning for. Perhaps finding comfort in the notion that he hadn’t cared as much as she had; though such a revelation might break her heart again, it would at least allow her to turn away and bury those fragile hopes that kept her on edge.

Finally, in a grave and almost muted whisper, he said: “Why what?” Hearing him again made her pulse race.

“Why did you never come to see me?” she asked, her composure wavering, barely upheld by the strength of her resolve. 

The silence that followed was unbearable. He looked at her, his eye reflecting a storm of emotions, but his lips remained sealed, as if the answers were trapped in his throat, unable to escape. His mouth opened and closed several times, making no sound, as if the weight of the truth was too heavy to bear.

“I did not know if you wished for my presence” he finally responded, so simple that it seemed almost insulting, only deepening her disbelief.

“Is this some jest? I asked you so many times” she demanded with growing bitterness. “Did my letters mean so little to you that you did not even take the time to read them?” Her voice hardened, laden with a suppressed rage that had been wounding her for too long.

“What letters?” he asked, his confusion evident, etching across his face like a blank canvas, as if he couldn’t comprehend the words she spoke. The question seemed almost naive.

“The letters!” she exclaimed, feeling her short patience running thin with every passing second, “the ones I sent you” she added, stating the obvious. The urgency to clarify the situation was like an unstoppable force, driving her to speak, to bring to light what had remained hidden. “I thought we had something special. Did I imagine it?” She finally cracked. “I waited for so long, I wrote to you so many times, like a fool. I hoped… I hoped for a response, a visit, something to let me know you hadn’t forgotten me” she confessed, her emotions overflowing, raw and naked before him.

“You wrote me?” he asked, as if he needed to hear it once more to fully grasp the reality of her words.

She glared at him, her frustration boiling over. How could he be so cruel as to toy with her emotions? “Do not mock me” she snapped, turning her back on him in anger. 

She felt his proximity, the radiance of his body like a magnet drawing her in, but she forced herself to look out the window, struggling to regain her composure. Then, his voice broke through, filled with a desperation that tugged at her heartstrings. 

“I wrote to you as well, hundreds of times. I swear this to you, by all the gods” he said, pleading. There was something in his tone, an earnestness that made her hesitate. It sounded so genuine, so wounded, that she couldn’t simply dismiss it.

“I never received a single letter from you” she countered, her brow furrowed in confusion.

“Nor did I. Not one. Had I received any, I would have come to you at once. You must believe me" he replied with pain, as if each word cost him dearly. “I thought you did not want to hear from me”

She studied him, trying to read the truth in his eyes, the shadow of anguish that seemed to cling to him. Despite the sincerity she sensed, a veil of doubt still loomed over her, casting a cold shadow over her. He had never deceived her before, and she had no reason to disbelieve him now, but the situation didn’t make sense.

“Why would I not?” she asked, distrustful. His shoulders rose in a gesture of ignorance, unable to offer a concrete answer. The confusion on his face reflected the internal chaos they shared.

Then, a possibility emerged in her mind. What if he was telling the truth? What if the years of separation were not due to their own actions, but to some malevolent force that had kept them apart? The idea was both terrifying and liberating, but she still couldn’t fully accept it.

She shook her head, her mind spinning in a whirlwind of contradictory thoughts. She began to pace nervously around the room, searching for answers in the air. Her steps were quick, uneven, as her mind tried to process what she was hearing. The room felt smaller, as if the walls were closing in. After several minutes of internal struggle, she halted abruptly and turned to face him. He stood still, his gaze fixed on her.

“Are you not upset about this?” she asked, skepticism still marking her tone. If all of this was true, then the situation was even more perplexing, almost impossible to comprehend.

He looked at her intently, his eye piercing through all her barriers, touching her very soul. “I cannot find it within myself to be angry at this moment, not when you are here before me once more” he whispered with a tenderness that seemed straight out of her wildest dreams. His words were heavy with a melancholic sincerity, as if every syllable was a tribute that carried the weight of the years they had been apart. Her own heartbeats began to quicken, almost painfully, resonating in her ears. 

“I never stopped thinking about you, wondering why I never heard from you, missing you” he continued, cutting through the layers of her distrust. “I never wanted to lose you.”

The tears that had been threatening to appear pooled in her eyes, clouding her vision. “Is that true?” she asked, trembling. “Did you truly never stop thinking about me?”

He moved closer slowly, closing the distance between them with each step. “Never,” he confirmed, “not for a single second.” A small shiver ran down her spine as she heard him. The romantic words she had longed for so much, which had seemed like mere whispers in books and songs, were now manifesting in her reality, but it felt so surreal that surrendering to it seemed almost naive.

She bit her lower lip, struggling to maintain control, to not give in. She shook her head, avoiding his gaze, murmuring softly, “This is too much.”

With an air of quiet acceptance, he responded, “I understand. Take all the time you need.”

She turned away, still in shock, her mind unable to fully process what had just happened. Before she could think any further, she turned back and threw herself into his arms, her body acting on her deepest wants.

He, always so prepared for anything, took a step back, caught off guard by her sudden move. Feeling his heart racing, tears began to fall uncontrollably. The embrace was fierce, as if she could hold onto the fragments of their lost time and prevent them from slipping away like the letters they never received.

He held her close, gently resting his head on hers. The only sound in the room was her ragged breathing and the small sobs escaping from her throat, creating an intimate cocoon of shared vulnerability.

“I am sorry, I am sorry for everything” she whispered through her tears. She didn’t quite know the reason for the lament, perhaps for the love they had let slip away, or for the illusion she had created to justify his silence, which didn’t do justice to the boy she had loved. She closed her eyes, letting herself be carried away by the moment, allowing her emotions to overflow.

After a few minutes, she lifted her head to look at him. “What do we do now?” she asked, searching for a glimmer of direction, a way forward amidst the uncertainty.

He raised a hand to her face, gently wiping away the tears that fell, the hot contact on her skin causing a tingling sensation. “I won’t let us be separated again” he said with firm determination. “If you will allow me, I wish to mend what has been broken.”

He looked at her expectantly, searching for a sign of consent, and she nodded softly, accepting the offer. In that moment, she understood that, despite the time and distance, maybe, just maybe, they could find a way back to each other.

Time seemed to stand still, suspended in a heavy silence. Their gazes intertwined, merging in an instant that felt endless. Finally, she slowly pulled away from him, though his hands seemed reluctant to let her go. With her mind overwhelmed, she let out a deep sigh and turned toward the door.

He took the candle and opened the door. He went first, leading the way that she knew better. A small smile appeared on her lips.

Arriving at the door of her room, she pushed it open and entered, pausing to look back at him. He stayed a few inches behind, right at the threshold. “Take it” she said, pointing to the candle. He nodded with a small smile forming at the corner of his lips. “Good night” she added.

“Good night” he replied.

Before closing the door, she gathered her courage and planted a small kiss on his cheek. The contact, though brief, left him momentarily stunned. As the door clicked shut, she leaned against it, allowing herself a moment of solitude, letting out another deep sigh.

As the minutes passed and the echo of his footsteps faded in the hallway, she moved further into the room. She set aside her silk robe and collapsed onto the bed, exhausted. She buried her face in the pillow, stifling a cry of frustration and relief, letting the weight of the evening’s emotions pour out.

Dawn brought a new perspective and a soft light that had yet to filter through the window. She woke up with a sense of duality, both agitated and peaceful, her thoughts still tangled with the events of the previous night.

The revelation that her letters had never reached their recipient, that the words she had poured out with so much love and desperation had been lost in a void of no return, was a bittersweet blow.

It had been both reassuring and heart-wrenching at the same time, a truth that revealed much and, at the same time, very little. It had stolen her years of companionship but also showed her the resilience of a bond that seemed to defy distance and time.

She slowly sat up, the weight of emotions still fresh. Before she could finish getting ready, the door creaked open, and Lyra entered with a look of shock.

“Did you tumble from your bed?” she joked. “Are you well?” she asked, moving closer upon noticing her expression.

She took her friend's hand and gently guided her to the bed. Lyra sat beside her, her eyes filled with silent empathy.

“Has something happened?” Lyra pressed, shifting from playful to serious, and her brow furrowed more intensely.

“I visited his chambers last night” she said directly, without preamble. The reaction was immediate: her mouth fell slightly open.

“Why on earth would you do that?” Lyra asked, her voice rising with indignation. She made a gesture with her hand, signaling her to keep her tone down. “Why?” she repeated, more forcefully this time.

“I needed to speak with him” she replied. The expression on Lyra’s face turned into a blend of understanding and exasperation as she tilted her head, studying her. “You yourself suggested we needed to resolve matters” she justified, trying to validate her actions.

Lyra’s eyes narrowed slightly, a gesture of reprimand. “I did not intend for you to seek him out in his chamber in the middle of the night” she corrected, low and tense. “If someone were to find out…”

“Nothing happened, we merely conversed” she interrupted, trying to defuse the situation. 

“But you are not children any longer” Lyra continued, concerned. “Such a visit would not be well seen, especially not for you.” She nodded, acknowledging the truth in those words. “Well, go on then, what did he say?” Lyra asked finally, her curiosity clearly overcoming her initial concern. 

She took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts. “He claimed he never received my letters and that he had written to me” she replied, quoting his words. “It turns out, both of us were left waiting, each under the impression that the other had moved on.”

“How can that be?” Lyra inquired. “That is a great deal to process.” After a moment of reflection, she asked cautiously, in a barely perceptible whisper, squeezing her hands. “Do you believe him?” 

“Yes, I do. Besides, what motive would he have to deceive me? If he had truly ignored my letters, he would have no reason to deny it.” She sighed before continuing. “Aemond can be unkind at times, but he has never been untrue.”

Lyra nodded, although doubt still lingered in her mind. “Do you think it could have been…?” she began, her tone dropping even further, as if fearing the words she was about to utter, hesitant to voice the suspicion.

“I do not believe so” she replied firmly. “This seems excessive, even for her.” Lyra looked at her skeptically, recalling past actions.

“For the woman who nearly harmed your mother?” Lyra asked, with an incredulous grimace. She bit her lip, knowing that a mother’s desperation can drive one to extreme measures, but she didn’t dismiss the idea entirely.

“But this situation does not solely affect me” she continued, with an intensity reflecting the complexity of the situation. “It affects him as well. And she cares for him deeply.”

“Precisely” Lyra agreed. “She would do whatever it takes to protect him.”

“Protect him from what?” she asked with confusion. The question hung in the air, and Lyra remained silent, without a clear answer.Then, finally spoke, thoughtful. 

“She might have had reasons to keep him away from you, perhaps out of fear or misguided protection.”

She pondered, her mind racing with the possibilities. “But why? What could be so dire that it would justify such measures?”

“I do not know. But at least you have cleared the air now. What comes next?”

“I am not entirely sure” she admitted. 

After a few minutes of silent reflection, a soft chuckle escaped Lyra’s lips, slowly building into a cascade of infectious giggles. The accumulated tension seemed to dissipate with that joyful sound. She looked at her, caught off guard by the sudden shift in mood.

“What is so amusing?” she asked.

Lyra tried to stifle her laughter, covering her mouth with her hand, but her eyes sparkled with a mischievous gleam. “Ever since I arrived, I have been giving him the cold shoulder” she admitted between giggles. “The poor boy must be utterly baffled.”

She couldn’t help but laugh at the mental image of a confused and helpless Aemond. “Do you think he noticed?” she asked, the smile still lingering on her lips.

“Most likely, I looked at him like he was the stranger himself.” Lyra replied, her laughter still bubbling up. “He must have wondered what on earth he did to earn such hostility.”

Their laughter intertwined, filling the room with a warm, rejuvenating energy, washing away the remnants of earlier worries.

“Thank you for always standing by my side” she said with genuine gratitude.

“Always” Lyra replied, her hand gently brushing against hers.

Before long, a soft, persistent knocking at the door interrupted their conversation. Lyra stood up and went to open it, revealing the small figure of her younger brother, peeking in with some shyness.

“I came to fetch you for breakfast” Joffrey said.

She smiled and rose from the bed, feeling a renewed sense of purpose as she got up. She approached him, taking his tiny hand tenderly, and let him lead her.

After breakfast, she enjoyed a leisurely stroll with Joffrey, their small conversation peppered with laughter. Later, they lost themselves in the depths of the library, where he became utterly captivated by the history of dragons, his curiosity leading to a flurry of questions that she eagerly answered, pleased to see his fascination.

As the day wore on, and she returned to her chambers, she began to feel the gentle pull of fatigue settling over her. With thoughts of a possible meeting lingering in her mind, she slipped off her shoes, intending to indulge in a brief nap. But just as she was about to surrender to the comfort of her bed, a series of gentle knocks interrupted her reverie. The sound was unusual, coming from the back door. A flutter of excitement stirred within her as she quickly made her way to the door.

When she opened it, she found him standing there, his expression showing relief. The sight of him brought an instant smile to her lips, one that he mirrored with a sincere, if slightly reserved, smile of his own. The mere sight of his face was a cure for her restless soul. 

“My prince, it’s a pleasure to see you” she said, friendly.

“The pleasure is all mine, my princess” he responded carrying a touch of formality that didn’t quite mask the underlying nervousness. After a brief pause, he cleared his throat and added, with a hint of uncertainty, “I was wondering if you might grace me with your company for lunch.” 

She looked at him, feeling a pleasant warmth spread through her. Her heart fluttered with anticipation. “Yes, I would like that. Shall we dine on the balconies?” she suggested, her tone light and inviting.

He hesitated, a flicker of unease crossing his features as his gaze shifted. “I was thinking… perhaps my chambers” he finally said, unsure whether his proposal would meet her expectations.

She raised her eyebrows in mock startelement, a playful glint as she teased, “Do you truly believe that to be appropriate?”

His composure faltered, and a faint blush crept up his neck. “No, of course not, you are right” he stammered, clearly flustered. “If the balconies are your preference, I can…” His voice faded into a murmur, the words trailing off into an insecure murmur.

She interrupted him with a light laugh, a melody that seemed to dissipate the tension in the air. “I was only jesting, let us be off.” 

She turned away momentarily to slip her shoes back on, then returned to his side, his expression more relaxed. He offered his arm to her, and she took it gently, feeling the heat of the contact despite the leather suit he wore. 

Together, they walked their way down the hall, the midday sun filtering through the narrow windows, bathing their faces in golden light that made the atmosphere feel even more intimate. They couldn’t help but steal furtive glances, trying to decipher each other’s thoughts.

Upon reaching his room, she was greeted by a scene of meticulous preparation. The table near the window was elegantly set, offering a breathtaking view of the city below. Every detail had been considered—the dishes arranged with care, the variety of delicacies laid out like a feast for the senses, all reflecting the thoughtfulness of someone who had taken great pains to create something special.

As they approached the table, he hurried to pull out a chair for her, a courteous gesture that brought a soft smile to her lips. “Thank you” she murmured as she settled into it. 

He sat across from her, and as he did, the atmosphere seemed to soften, the initial tension giving way to a more comforting familiarity. “An entire army could feast on this” she teased, her gaze sweeping over the overflowing table. “Does no one find it strange that you requested so much food?” Her curiosity was laced with a hint of excitement, wondering if he had mentioned she was joining him.

He offered a shy smile, a quiet laugh escaping as he began serving the food. “I was unsure of your preferences” he admitted. “And no, I usually dine with my sister.” His voice held a note of apology that didn’t go unnoticed by her.

“I am sorry for the inconvenience to her” she said, with a slight disappointment, but acknowledging the thoughtfulness behind his gesture. The care he’d taken in preparing the lunch spoke volumes, revealing a sincere desire to share this moment with her.

“No such thing” he reassured, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips. She understood the unspoken message—Helaena, no doubt, was already aware and understood.

As they began to serve themselves, the meal took on a significance beyond the food on their plates. Their conversation flowed easily, touching on lighthearted topics—books they had read, childhood memories that evoked shared laughter, recent events that bridged the gap of time they had spent apart. She noticed how his face brightened with each bite, relaxed. Yet, beneath their words, there was a palpable tension underlying it, a tacit acknowledgment that something important was about to be discussed.

When the meal drew to a close, a silence settled between them—not the awkward kind, but rather the type that felt like a collective breath, a pause before something of great importance. It was as if they were both gathering their thoughts, preparing for the conversation they both knew was inevitable. The room, now quieter, holding its breath alongside them, the air thick with anticipation as they hovered on the brink of a pivotal moment.

She stood up slowly, excusing herself before walking toward the window. Perching on its edge, she gazed out, lost in the endless expanse of the city below. After a brief pause, he followed, leaning against the wall beside her, close enough to share the view but leaving a respectful distance. “It seems like the city never rests” she whispered, barely louder than the soft hum of life outside. He followed her gaze, nodding in quiet agreement.

The silence between them grew deeper, as if the world itself had paused to allow them to find the right words. Finally, he broke the silence.

“Last night… I did not truly know what to say” he confessed, his gaze fixed on the ground as if searching for answers in the stones. His hands, usually so sure and steady, now betrayed him, fidgeting with a nervous energy that seemed out of place. “It was… too overwhelming.” She watched him, allowing him to find his own rhythm as he spoke, giving him space to organize his thoughts.

“I cannot help but feel that this is an opportunity the gods have placed before us” he continued, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips, a fragile flicker of hope igniting within him. “I know not if this is the right moment… or if there ever is a right moment” he added, his fingers scratching at the sensitive skin on the side of his nails.

Before his nervous hands could inflict harm, she reached out, gently enclosing them within her own, her fingers wrapping around his in a tender, reassuring embrace. Under her comforting touch, his anxiety slowly faded. She drew him closer, making him sit beside her, their faces now almost at the same level.

He looked out toward the horizon. “I know I promised you time last night… and if that is what you require, I shall honor it” he murmured. “We can start anew… rediscover who we are now. But I feel that, no matter how much we have changed, deep within… we are still ourselves. And I have spent too many days regretting the words I never spoke, the chances I did not seize.”

He turned his gaze from the horizon back to her. “And if there is one thing of which I am certain, it is what I feel for you” he whispered, raw with emotion.

She met his gaze, her curiosity flickering, the unspoken need to hear the words that had yet to cross his lips. “And what, pray tell, do you feel for me?” she asked softly, aching to uncover the depths of him.

He inched a little closer, his eye locking onto hers with a fierce intensity that seemed to draw in all the light around them and steal her breath away. “A force that compels me to search for you in every corner of my soul, the reason my days feel hollow and incomplete if you are not in them" he said, letting the weight of his feelings settle between them like a fragile, precious thing. "Without you, I am but a dragon without fire, a mere shadow of what I could be… with you by my side”

She stared at him, paralyzed by the beauty of his words, unable to find her voice. The seconds stretched out, feeling like an eternity until he, with a tone laced with vulnerability, asked, “And you, do you feel the same about me?”

A pang of remorse pierced her chest for making him wait and for the doubt she had created in him. “Yes, I do” she answered with the undeniable truth.

He sighed, relief and hope lighting up his face. “I believe we must tread cautiously, at least for a time” he said. “There is still one who does not wish to see us united. If we keep this between us, it will be easier to protect what we share.”

She nodded, caught in a tug-of-war between the desire to proclaim their love to the world and the understanding of his wish for caution. While every fiber of her being longed to declare their victory over the obstacles that had stood in their way, she knew there was wisdom in his words.

“I have missed you” he confessed so soft it was almost swallowed by the quiet of the room.

“And I you” she replied, “dearly”

He looked at her with a tenderness that made her heart swell, then the space between them seemed to dissolve as their hands remained clasped. He leaned in, his forehead resting gently against hers. “Would you like to spend the rest of the afternoon with me?” he asked, his tone gentle and inviting.

@helaenaluvr @purplegardenwhispers @callsignwidow @scarletbedlam @fics-i-love-and-recommend @squidscottjeans @truly-abysmal @fossface @congenialcopycat @that-girl-named-alex @oh-you-mean-me

now it's going to start the good part i promise! besitos.

[yelenasdiary]

OK OK OK I have a request go with me here. What about Florence with an insecure reader but she’s plus size she’s insecure about like sitting on Florence’s lap (and face 😗) so maybe like a fluffy smut or something idk I just haven’t been feeling to good about my body these days. You 100% don’t have to do this. Ok love you bye!!!!😘

Why Me?

Pairing: Florence Pugh x Plus Size! Reader

Summary: Flo helps you cope when your mind gets the better of you.

Angst, Fluff

Warnings: Body image issues, Mentions of Depression & Cyber Bullying| 1.3K

AC: I hope you enjoy this, I didn’t include any smut or suggestive themes as I simply do not do that when writing celebrity x reader so I hope what I have written is still somewhat what you were looking for x

Dating a celebrity wasn't easy, especially when you never thought you were built for the spotlight of any kind. Birthdays were usually small just to keep the attention off you as much as possible and you never liked it much when people would make a fuss about your achievements. You were shy, but it was one of the many things Florence, your girlfriend, loved about you. 

Florence absolutely loves showing you off. At family events, she was always seen proudly holding your hand or having an arm wrapped around your waist. It took a long time for her to get you to say yes to attending a red-carpet event with her. Florence had this way of making you smile and laugh when you didn't know you needed it the most, it was like she was always one step ahead of your insecurities and thoughts. 

But not everything was rainbows and butterflies. The world can be cruel, not matter how big or small you are, people are always going to express their opinions and it was one of the biggest things that Florence quickly noticed that was affecting you. Whenever the paparazzi snapped photos of you and Florence hand in hand walking the streets of LA or the rare chance that caught you kissing in a busy café in London, there were always comments. 

Harsh and cruel comments directed mostly to you, comments on your body, weight and how people couldn't understand why Florence was with you. Most of the time you were able to avoid seeing them or ignored them whenever you did see them but being human, they got to you sometimes. You've struggled with thoughts about yourself for a while and it never helped when your depression would side with those thoughts. Florence hated the comments, and she would know when you had read some. 

"What's on your mind darling?" Florence's raspy voice brought your attention back to earth as you looked up from the plate of food in front of you. "Huh? Oh, sorry" you quickly collected yourself, "I'm just a little tired, I think I might be coming down with something" you added. Florence tilted her head slightly to the right, "don't give me that" she said knowing you weren't being truthful with her. 

You sighed, placing the silver fork beside the plate of untouched food, you knew there was no hope in lying to her. She studied your body language while you racked your brain to form the words you wanted to say but not wanting to upset your girlfriend. "I guess, I just" you started, avoiding eye contact with the blonde knowing full well that if you looked into her big green eyes that the tears you felt trying their best to build would break. Florence reached over the table and gently placed her hand on top of your left, "it's okay baby, take your time" she assured you. 

A moment of silence was shared between the two of you before you finally broke it and spoke the thoughts that had been circling your mind for the last few days. "Why me?" You asked, "I mean, you could have anybody in the world, I mean that literally. You could have somebody who isn't….well…. me" you spoke, your eyes dropping to your lap. 

Florence rose from her seat and walked over to you and kneeled, taking your hands into hers. "Look at me darling, please" she spoke. Slowly, you lifted your head up, looking at her with tears building up, "where is this coming from?" She asked, her thumbs brushing gently over your knuckles. A tear streamed down your right cheek when you saw nothing but love and concern from your partner, "I guess" you paused for a moment, "I feel so ugly" you said, "sometimes I think everybody is right, you can do a lot better than me" you added as more tears streamed down your cheeks. 

Without hesitation, Florence stood up and wrapped her arms around you, pulling you close to her and placing a kiss on the top of your head. "Oh darling" she said softly. She didn't need to know how this all started, she noticed recently how you were slowly hiding yourself away from those around you, avoiding going out to lunch with Florence, afraid of what more people would say. She hated it so much that people could be so cruel and not think about what their words could do to another human. She gently rubbed your back, letting you break down in her arms. You were tired and she knew that. 

She kneeled down in front of you again, wiping the tears from your cheeks, "I don't want anybody else, I don't need anybody else" she assured you, "You don't see yourself the way I see you, all those strangers don't see you the way I see you, they don't see the beautiful soul that makes my day better every morning, they don't see how hard working you are. You care so, so much about every single person around you, you make sure that everybody feels seen and included and it's something I love about you, but it also makes me wonder why you don't treat yourself with the same kindness. 

You are the most beautiful person I have ever met; I am so lucky that you picked me. I am so lucky to love you. I love that I get to wake up next to you every morning and coming home to you is all I look forward to each day. Darling, nobody is perfect but you are perfect to me and I know that sounds cliché but I wouldn't have you any other way. I just want you to be happy" she said, ever breaking eye contact with you. She brushed a lock of hair behind your ear, "how about this weekend you and I take a trip, wherever you want to go. We'll take some time away from everything and just enjoy our time" she suggested. 

You nodded, loving the idea of not having to worry about your insecurities. Although they didn't go away completely but Florence always had a magic way of making you forget about them. 

----

The sun kissed the top of the lake that you looked over, sitting on Florence's lap while she traced random shapes and patterns on your back. Like the sun, her presence and comfort brought a sense of warmth to you. Nothing else mattered in this moment but spending it with the one person you loved and adored so much. The weekend had only started, you and Florence had booked out a lake house for the weekend to enjoy, arriving in the early hours of the morning Florence still was able to cook up an amazing breakfast which the two of you enjoyed on the porch overlooking the lake. 

"It's so beautiful here" you commented as your eyes traced over the mountains that overlooked the lake. Florence smiled softly, "it is, isn't it" she replied. Although she didn't care much for the view of the lake but more the soft smile that you wore proudly. She placed a kiss on your cheek which only made you blush at her unexpected affection. 

"Thank you" you said as you looked over your shoulder at Florence, "I'm sorry that my mind gets the better of me sometimes" you added. 

"Oh darling, you don't need to apologise nor thank me" she smiled before leaning up and kissing your lips gently, "just promise me that when you start to feel down again, you talk to me. I am always here for you, my love. I'd drop everything just to see you smile, never forget that" she added before you kissed her once more, smiling against her lips before you pulled away. 

"I love you" you whispered to her.

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[im-a-wonderling]

Is It Still Punishment if It Was Worth It? ~ George Weasley

Summary: Y/N runs into George Weasley after her detention with Umbridge (aka me finishing a request from ages ago)

Warnings: Umbridge *shudders*

Word count: 2.4k

As I left the atrocious pink office, nothing around me stirred, as if the whole castle was frozen, lying in wait for the dawn. Light streamed through the open doorway, heralding my late release from detention. 

“Off to bed, dear,” said that sugary, poisonous voice behind me. “Don’t let Mr. Filch catch you lingering instead of being safe asleep in your bed.” Was it my imagination, or did the throbbing of the back of my hand pulse in time with her voice? 

I wanted nothing more than to scurry away as fast as my legs would allow, but like any predatory animal, Professor Umbridge could smell fear, so I simply bowed my head as demurely as possible, avoiding her deep-set gaze. “Yes, professor.” I could feel the horrid woman’s toad eyes following me as I walked down the wide staircase, heading for the dungeons. 

The door closed behind me with an ominous thud, and the light disappeared. 

Stopping in my tracks, I immediately turned the corner to a little alcove, slumping next to the window. I stared at the colored glass, depicting a dragon breathing flames up into the sky. My wound gave a particularly violent throb. “Ouch,” I hissed under my breath, staring down at the shiny red letters.

I must obey the rules.

Cradling my aching hand to my chest, I let out a long breath. Every pang seemed to ring through my whole body, and yet, instead of acting as a deterrent, I was all the more resolved in my actions. If Umbridge had forced my brother to write those words and endure this pain, even her title as High Inquisitor would not have saved her from my wrath. 

“Well, that’s a first.”

I jolted. At first, I wondered if it’d been the dragon that spoke—often things at Hogwarts spoke when one might think they shouldn’t. But the dragon didn’t move. I looked around me, just in time to see the tapestry further down the stairs shift, and a red-headed boy came out from behind it.

George Weasley. Certified troublemaker with an un-shuttable gob and downright homemade values, the very personification of Godric Gryffindor’s ideal student. 

“Excuse me?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

George gestured to my hand. “I didn’t know she punished Slytherins too.” He spoke the word without distaste, but with an emphasis all the same.

I just shook my head and left my alcove, heading for the Slytherin common room. There was no point in arguing in Slytherin’s favor; the history in this castle chronicled many a Slytherin who tried and subsequently had to run for the Hospital Wing before a toenail-growing hex grew too painful to walk.

Unfortunately, the redhead sidled into my path. I took several steps back, checking for the location of his wand, prepared to whip out my own before he could cast anything. But his hands were empty, and judging by the way he watched me, his head was regrettably anything but.

“You’re in my way,” I said calmly.

“Malfoy shouldn’t have done that.”

The simple statement made my lungs falter for breath, but I kept my face impassive. “He didn’t have a choice.”

“No, he had a choice.” George’s maddeningly certain tone set my teeth on edge.

I scoffed, walking down the staircase. “You don’t understand, you couldn’t possibly understand what he faces.”

“Oh, yes,” George’s voice grew louder and mocking, following me on my heels, “poor little rich Malfoy, head of the Inquisitor Squad, can’t handle–”

“Sod off.” My gritted teeth added all the threat I wanted, but George wasn’t deterred.

“What a slog it is, having everything one could possibly–”

I whirled around, my hands finding George’s chest to shove him as hard as I could. “You don’t know what it’s like!” I hissed, glaring at him. “You and your brothers just do whatever you fancy at the moment, whatever wicked thing halfway crosses your mind. Well, not all of us have the luxury of doing what we want.”

George looked as serious as I’d ever seen him. “He could’ve spared you this and he didn’t. No true friend would scurry off to Umbridge to report you like that.”

For a moment, I considered starting a row, but Umbridge’s office was still within earshot, and I didn’t want another round of writing with that cursed quill. So I chose not to acknowledge him, walking down the stairs with my head held high, reaching the bottom of the stairs and quickly walking down the corridor, hoping my feet could outrun George’s mouth. But when I looked to my right, there was George, loping alongside me.

“Seriously–”

“Seriously, George, shut it.” I came to a stop, glaring up at him. “What are you even doing here? It’s past curfew.”

“Some of us are taking turns behind the tapestry,” he said easily. “Watching in case any first or second years get turned out of Umbridge’s office with bleeding hands.”

“Oh?” I tossed my head, moving my hair to one side. “And if it were a Slytherin first year, would you have greeted them the way you greeted me?” If my kid brother had been the one walking out of the office, I silently asked, would you have comforted him? 

“Perhaps, but I’m willing to bet that they, unlike you, would accept a hug and a trip to the kitchens for some dessert afterwards.”

My stomach rumbled, and I placed my uninjured hand over it. “Well, I’m no first year, so you can go.” I resumed my furious pace.

George easily kept up. “It wasn’t fair of Malfoy to do that.”

Was it impossible for him to leave well enough alone? “When I want your opinion, I’ll ask for it.”

“Everyone knows you were just protecting your brother.”

I seized the collar of George’s robes, dragging his face down an inch from mine. “Don’t you dare–

“I’m not going to tell,” George said, remarkably calm considering how quickly his position had changed. 

“How am I supposed to trust that?”

“I’m not Malfoy.” 

I considered him for another moment before letting him go. He straightened, smoothing out his robes. “How did you know?” I asked. 

George gave a short laugh. “You’ve never touched a broomstick outside of Flying class, and yet I’m supposed to believe you even have a broomstick to bring into the castle?” He shook his head. “Anyone with eyes knows you’d do anything for your brother, so of course Umbridge is the only one daft enough to fall for your switcheroo.” 

I pondered his words for a moment before turning to walk back to my room. Like before, George kept time beside me. “She shouldn’t have given detention just for having a broomstick.” 

I shook my head. “There are rules.”

“And rules were made to–”

“–be broken?” I rolled my eyes. “Of course. I shouldn’t have expected anything less from a Gryffindor.”

“Says the Slytherin who just got out of detention.” I bit my tongue, trying to stay silent. “You should tell your head of house what Umbridge’s doing, maybe Snape’ll do something about–”

I let out a short laugh. “See, there’s the difference between you and me, George–”

George leapt forward, covering my mouth. Next thing I knew, I was being tugged behind a statue, finally pulled to meet George’s alarmed expression.

This was it. I should’ve known better than to trust a Gryffindor. Now he was going to hex me or curse me or even forgo a wand altogether and use his own two fists. 

Eyes wide, I tried to shove him away, protesting loudly from behind his hand. “Shush!” George said harshly. “Filch!”

I instantly stopped fighting, my heart pounding for a different reason. If George and I were caught by Filch right now, not only would I have another detention with Umbridge, but word would get out. I couldn’t even imagine the trouble I’d be in with my house if they found out I was out at night past curfew with a Gryffindor, and a Weasley at that!

The light of the lantern the caretaker always carried with him after hours grew closer and closer to the statue we crouched behind. George lifted his hand from my mouth, pressing a finger to his lips. I rolled my eyes. As if I didn’t already get the memo. 

“Anyone about, my dear?” Filch’s haughty voice asked. Mrs. Norris meowed back, and I heard the sound of a dark chuckle. "Professor Umbridge might allow us to try our new manacles.”

George and I met eyes. 

He made a stop gesture and then started to creep forward towards Filch. What could he possibly be planning? Filch would see him! 

Then it occurred to me. The noble idiot was about to sacrifice himself so that I would stay undetected. 

Oh no you don’t, I thought, seizing the back of George’s robes, dragging him back. I was not about to owe a Gryffindor anything. I pulled out my wand and a tissue I'd forgotten was there.

Snufflifors, I mouthed. 

The tissue morphed into a white mouse, which immediately scampered down the corridor. Immediately, Mrs. Norris sped after it. 

“My dear!” Filch protested, running after her, the light from his lantern growing farther and farther away until George and I were left alone in the dark. 

“Wow,” George stared in the direction Filch had gone, “that was quite impressive.”

The compliment made my cheeks warm. “Well, some of us jump into things without thinking about the consequences and some of us actually use our brains for more than pranks.” I shoved my wand into my pocket, about to storm down the corridor. 

“So you thought it through beforehand?”

“I didn’t necessarily plan to get caught by–”

“No, you thought through taking the blame for your brother?” 

I stopped short, allowing George to catch up with me. I eyed him warily. Was he fishing for evidence to get my brother in trouble? Or was he fishing for other reasons?  “Of course I did,” I said finally, deciding that my word against George’s was hardly any competition. 

A strange look twinkled in his eyes at that. “You actually thought about getting in trouble?” I didn’t reply. I should’ve known that I wouldn’t need to, because George could easily carry a conversation by himself. “You knew you could lose house points? And Hogsmeade could become off-limits to you? And that you might end up with words scratched into the back of your hand?” 

My silence was the only answer. Truthfully, he was right. I’d thought through all those possibilities. 

I’d earned Slytherin enough points throughout the years that any deduction wouldn’t damage my reputation too badly for anyone not in the Inquisitor Squad, especially under Umbridge’s reign. As for Hogsmeade, the castle itself was large enough to keep me from feeling claustrophobic. And, yes, I even budgeted for the possibility of getting detention with Umbridge; that’s why there was a Soothing potion waiting for me in my room. 

What I hadn’t anticipated was Malfoy being the one to report me. 

So much for being friends. 

George shuffled closer, bringing me to the present with his brown eyes. “You thought through the possibilities, and you still did it?” I nodded, and a grin broke out on his face. “Are you sure you aren’t supposed to be in Gryffindor?”

I made a disgusted sound in the back of my throat. “How dare you,” I said blandly. 

“I’m serious,” he said with a smile that said the opposite. “You’re quite the little risk-taker.” 

“Is it really risk-taking,” I murmured, “if you’re prepared for all the risks?” 

The inner corners of George’s eyebrows turned upward, his smile dimming to a more serious affect. “Was it worth it even though you got caught and punished?” 

“Is it still punishment if it was worth it?” 

His freckled face relaxed at the question, smoothing out until it was without pucker or twinge. “Should there be a rule against it if it’s still worth it?” he murmured.

I brought out my hand, looking down on it so I could once again read the message waiting there. The shiny letters didn’t hold any answers within their crimson hue. “I’m not sure.”

A hand reached out to touch mine, and my breath caught when I saw, on the back of George’s hand, familiar words, written in narrower handwriting.

I must obey the rules.

“Funny,” George said softly. “Regardless of what happened beforehand, we ended up the same.”

I slowly dragged my eyes up to meet his. “Not quite.” I smiled sadly. “I’m apparently friendless.” 

“Not friendless,” George murmured like a promise. “Not if you don’t want to be.”

I studied him, searching for any sign of deception. His locks had darkened over the years. In our first year, they could only be described as flaming, his hair as dangerous as his tendencies, but now they’d tempered into a comforting copper hue. His freckles also faded, though there were still just as many of them. His eyebrows normally promised even more trouble than his mischievous eyes, but now, nothing in his face seemed disingenuous. “Can Slytherins and Gryffindors even be friends?” I asked.

“Is it risk-taking if you’re prepared for all the risks?” George echoed.

I gave a short laugh. “Touchè.”

“Besides,” George said with a smirk, “you could do with friends better than that old tosser.”

I wanted to laugh, truly I did. Or perhaps I wanted to care little enough to be able to laugh. But alas, I cared too much, so I simply shook it off. “I’d better go, before Filch actually finds us.” 

“Fair enough.” George dropped my hand, and I missed the warmth immediately. “See you around, Y/N?”

I took great care to lessen my smile into a smirk. “If you’re lucky,” I replied.

George gave a relaxed salute before walking back the way we’d come, presumably to take up his place behind the tapestry.

I watched him go. Funny, I may not have been a first year, and he may not have taken me to the kitchens for dessert, and yet…I was glad for anyone else who might leave Umbridge’s office when George waited for them behind the tapestry.

-

Read the continuation here!

If you enjoyed this, you might also enjoy my other George fanfic: Seven Years of Bad Luck

Overall tag list:

@thelastpyle @valiantlytransparentwhispers

[sp0-t]

•.⦿ FORCED CLOSE PROXIMITY ⦿.•

MIGUEL O’HARA X gn!READER

SUMMARY ⦿.•

miguel is your close friend, you’ve been friends even before the death of his daughter. he confided in you for everything, always valuing your opinion above the rest. more recently he had put an unwanted distance between you two, although, thanks to lyla a “malfunction” occurs, forcing you and miguel in a close proximity.. which leads to more

GENRE ⦿.•

smut version

(begins after the second picture)

WARNINGS ⦿.•

smut! penetration! pet names! demanding Miguel! slight biting! unprotected sex! (be better) brief cum play? fingering! making out!

5 days ago… that’s when it first started, him avoiding you. Your stares, your voice, your scent, your presence… you. The reason was unclear to you, you thought about it over and over wondering what it could possibly be.

You couldn’t even enter his vicinity without him walking out the room. However trying to sneak up on someone in an hq full of spider-people, including Miguel, wasn’t easy. He’d always sense you, leading him to stop whatever he was doing and leave the room. Watching this always made you sad, wondering what you could’ve done to cause this, but also feeling a bit ticked off at the audacity he had to avoid you.

Day 6, you had caught up with some spider-people, specifically Hobie and Miles. You had already known Hobie, do to his longer presence at hq. Still the younger boy, miles, intrigued you. He had come far for his young age and short year being spider-man.

You three were simply talking, just chatting, however it was cut short when an alert from your watch caught your attention. You look down, gazing upon the bright light.

O’Hara: Report, now.

seen 1 min

You knew he was serious with the “now” added at the end. staring at it for a bit too long, racking in your brain why this man would now want to talk to you. after six damn days he finally wants to confront you. At least, that’s what half of you was thinking, the other half was wondering if he would finally come clean and tell you everything that had happened. What caused him to go quiet for so long.

“Everything alright there?”

Hobie looked at you with confusion in in his eyes. Finally peeling your eyes away from your wrist you look at Hobie and Miles.

“Yeah, uh I gotta go. I’ll talk to you guys later.”

You walked off and waved them a goodbye, giving them a smile. You were overthinking the whole walk to Miguel’s “office”. Many things were running through your brain, so many that you hadn’t realized you were already in front of the door. Letting out a breath, you twist the handle and push the door open.

“Finally, I swear you like to waste my time.”

Of course, of course he had an attitude. Of course he didn’t know that you had been worried sick for him over the past 6 days. No, stubborn Miguel always had to act high and mighty on his platform.

“Are you serious?”

The look of confusion that Miguel gave you was almost laughable.

“What, did I say something that gave you the idea I wasn-”

“6. Days. It’s been 6 days before you’ve even given me the time of day. Now here I am, standing in front of you hoping, begging you’re finally going to tell me what’s wrong. But instead I get an insult!”

An exasperated laugh leaves your mouth, it’s almost amusing really. How you thought he would tell you something, anything, about what was keeping him quiet.

“I don’t know what your talking about.”

He crosses his arms over each other and looks to the side with a little scowl on his face. You sling your web, attaching to his platform, tossing your body onto the platform only mere inches from his own.

“You have some nerve you know that O’Hara.”

Jabbing your finger into his chest forcefully

“Last I checked you liked that about me~”

“Yeah well last I checked you weren’t avoiding me.”

“I-“

He stopped himself before he could go on.

“I have to go.”

He started to walk off the platform until his watch went off. It was blaring, so loud you had to cover your ears to try and muffle the sounds.

“What the hell is going on!”

Miguel kept smacking his watch, aggressively pressing random things to try and turn it off. Before any of you knew what was going on, a disk erupted from the watch. The force field erupted, surrounding the both of you.

“Lyla! What’s happening?!”

No reply was ever heard

“Damnit!”

He pounded his first on the force field. Trying to claw his way through it, doing anything to get out.

“You already know that’s not going to work, you’re the one who designed these things to be impenetrable. As much as you hate it, you’re stuck with me.”

He let out a heavy sigh accepting somewhat of a defeat.

“I don’t hate you, I could never.”

He looks up at you with sorrow and regret in his eyes. You could already smell the apology that wanted, so desperately, to roll off his tongue and come out between his lips.

“Then explain to me why.”

“Because… I realized something about me, something I didn’t want to admit to you or myself.”

You move forward with caution, still not sure what boundaries are okay to cross at the moment. Your hand eventually meets his shoulder, rubbing up and down with comfort. Your other hand moves towards his face which was turned to his right. Adjusting his face to look at yours.

“Miguel, I have know you for so long, and no matter what you tell me. You will always have me by your side.”

He grabbed your hand with his, holding it gently. The look in his eyes was a mix of emotions; pain, sadness, regret, longing, but most importantly… love. He moved closer, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you into him as if you would simply evaporate from his grasp at any moment.

“I love you…”

Silence. That’s all that could be heard for about 3 minutes, Miguel’s grip tightening as if you were going to push him away any second. Your arms made there way around his body, grabbing at his shirt and your face in his broad shoulder as you processed what he said. You, we’re crying, you didn’t know why or even when it happened you just knew that one moment your cheeks were wet from tears. Then you felt it, the droplet that fell onto the back of your neck, Miguel… was crying.

“Why are you crying?”

You let out a little chuckle, him pulling you even closer as he sniffled.

“I’m not, you are!”

“Yeah, I am. I finally got to hear those words.”

He took his face out of your neck, exposing his tear stained face to you. You placed your hand on his face, gently wiping away his ongoing tears. You stood up a bit to kiss his cheeks then his forehead.

“I haven’t heard you say it.”

Both of you looked deep into each others eyes, bodies still close, and your hands still on his face.

“I love you Miguel O’Hara.”

That’s all it took for his hands to softly grab your face and kiss you, those three words that could so effortlessly make Miguel O’Hara bend to your will.

(smut below)

His hands were on your waist in mere seconds, showing you just how desperate he was. However you already knew by him pulling you in flush against his front. Your groins getting the sweet friction they so desired. You pulled away slightly muttering a curse.

“Everything okay?”

He looked at you with such worry and concern, a hint of lust that had only started to grow.

“Yeah, just, been wanting that for so long.”

He placed his forehead against yours, creating an intimate atmosphere. His eyes gazed into yours as yours gazed back. Bringing one of his hands up from your hip, he placed it on your cheek. You learned into his touch finding comfort in it, in him.

“We can stop amor, we don’t have to go on.”

“No, I want this. I want you.”

He leaned forward pressing a quick kiss to your lips.

“I want you too.”

And with that you were both on each other. Your arms were wrapped around his neck, as he gently pushed your back against the wall of the force field. Tongues were synchronized with each other, and noses were pushing against one another. You started to pull away, Miguel following your lips still wanting more. You giggled and covered his lips before he could place them back on your own.

“can’t breathe.”

“Good, I should always leave you breathless.”

He placed a kiss on your palm that was covering his mouth

“Only me.”

He slowly dragged his hand to the back zipper of your suit. Teasingly, slowly, pulling it lower and lower. Giving small bites and kisses to each spot that would expose itself to him. Your shoulders, your chest, your stomach, and eventually your legs.

“All mine, you’re mine.”

He whispered between kisses. Miguel was on his knees now, holding onto your sides as he kept leaving kisses. His hand gravitated towards your ass, giving it a slight squeeze. Miguel stood up again standing face to face with you once again.

“I need you.”

“Then take me.”

That set off Miguel, he easily picked you up, wrapping your legs around him. His lips marking your neck, pulling quiet moans from you. Before you could think properly you saw that Miguel’s suit was off. Miguel pulled away from your neck. Holding you with one hand, the other on his cock slowly stroking it, bringing it up to your entrance.

“I’m going to put it in, is that okay, mi amor?”

You looked down at where his cock was rubbing against you, finally seeing his size scared you a bit. You could already tell you were going to be sore the next morning.

“Yes, please Miguel.”

“Of course, mi amor.”

He whispered in your ear, slowly sliding it in. You had never taken anyone his size before, however he took it slow, aware of the pain and discomfort you would fist feel. He was less than halfway when he looks up at you.

“Tell me if it’s to much, we can st-“

“No! Please, don’t! I need this, I need you!”

With that Miguel bottomed out in you, erupting a moan from both of you. He then began to slowly slide out again, only to thrust back in with a bit of force, causing you to let out a little yelp.

He let out a slight chuckle at the sound you made, he pressed his lips to yours in a chaste kiss. As soon as his lips left yours, he started to move his hips, slowly sliding his cock in and out of your entrance.

“Like that?~”

He leaned in and whispered into your ear, it sounded like more of a statement than it did a question.

“Yes, Miguel. Please, please…”

Your face was buried in his shoulder from embarrassment and desperation. Miguel’s hand made it’s way to your head, grabbing at your hair. Pulling your head back to make direct eye contact with you.

“Hey, use your words. Behave like I know you can, and tell me what you want.”

His tone is soft yet still demanding of you. The longing eye contact that he holds with you as he awaits your answer, sends shivers down your spine. Suddenly he send a thrust up into you.

“Tell me what you want from me…”

He leans into your ear

“Before I take you the way I want, and fuck you till your legs go fucking numb.”

Another thrust from him sends through you. A moan escaping the confines of your mouth.

“Y-you, I want you Miguel. I’ve always wanted you.”

Your lips reached up to his, both pressing against each other in want and bliss. Miguel started to move his hips, causing you to moan into the kiss. He continued his movements, his only mission being to please you.

As he starts to pick up his thrusts, his head falls to the crook of your neck. A trail of kisses and light bite marks are left behind. You let out whimpers as Miguel groans in your ear, both not far from total bliss.

“Miguel… I-im getting clo-“

“Can I come inside?”

The question left you a bit stunned, not expecting it.

“Yes!”

“Good, cause I wasn’t planning on fucking pulling out.”

And with a few more thrusts, you were filled with more than just his cock. His excess dripping out of you, his fingers find there way down and push his cum back into you. Your body collapsing on his

“Can you stand?”

“I-I think so.”

You try and stable yourself, wobbling a bit in the process. Miguel’s hands hovering over your body, in case you were to fall. Once he knows for sure your stable, he walks over to grab your suit off the floor. He helps you get dressed, bringing his suit back as well.

Once you both were composed he leans in for a kiss, your hands travel to his hair, welcoming the kiss. His hold on you is tight as if you would leave at any second.

“You guys done yet?”

A familiar voice causing you both to pull your lips apart.

“Gosh you guys are loud, whole damn HQ could hear you.”

You both turned to face a small Lyla hologram, a look of smugness on her face. With a snap of Lyla’s fingers the force field was down.

“You caused this?”

Miguel’s fingers were pinching at his nose bridge

“I swear, I’ll rewire you into a mindless bot.”

“Hey! I did you a favor.”

She suddenly appeared beside you

“He would never stop gushing about you, or admiring you.”

Miguel lunged forward trying to grab the hologram, it was no use, as she was gone in a second only to reappear once again.

“Nice try lover boy.”

And with that she was gone, leaving you and Miguel. You walked towards Miguel, placing your hands on his face.

“Come on, let’s go.”

You both swung off the platform, walking away in the distance.

“See,all you need is a little forced close proximity..which leads to more.”

This Fan Fiction is written, owned, and published by: @sp0-t ©️

DO NOT: Republish, Rewrite, Translate, OR, Steal My Work Without My Consent (please and thank you)

[merakiui]

could you tell us some of these ideas you have for malleus?

There are far too many thoughts... orz here are just a few that I have recently had.

✧ sleep paralysis demon malleus.

✧ a story in which you live at the edge of a forest that's slowly creeping closer and beginning to invade your property. and standing at the edge of the forest, unable to cross over, is a horned stranger dressed in a cloak of brambles. you try to voice your concerns to friends, but they won't believe you. you've been having trouble sleeping lately and you're starting to neglect your mental health, but you know you're not crazy. by the end of the month, you're certain the forest will swallow your quaint home whole. your only option to prevent that? investigate what it is the horned stranger could possibly want.

✧ phantom of the opera au with malleus as the phantom.

✧ idol group with malleus, idia, and azul and you're their manager. or maybe you're the fourth member being added to their ensemble. or maybe you're just a fan hehe. <3 either way, malleus is so whipped for you.

✧ this isn't exactly a malleus-centered thought, but you and sebek bond over your mutual admiration for malleus. you wish to get closer to malleus (because you love him) and sebek completely understands your desire to do so. who wouldn't want to associate themselves with someone as great as waka-sama!!!!!! but in helping you with this, sebek starts to grow romantically attached. he thinks he's dying because no ailment has ever made his heart beat this fast before. T_T malleus is distantly connected to this; essentially, cute love story between you and sebek. :D

✧ your kingdom and malleus's are at war and, in the midst of defeat, you're taken as a prisoner of war and forced to bear malleus's heir. <3 or you're simply forced into an arranged marriage. malleus wants to marry his enemy much to the utter shock of the kingdom, but no one will go against what their king wishes and so you are a captive spouse.

✧ befriending the kind dragon fae boy when you were young and offhandedly mentioning that you'd marry him when you were older. many years pass, the both of you grow and mature, and you've moved to another city to pursue work. one day, you receive a knock at your apartment door. standing there is the dragon fae with a ring and an entire royal entourage behind him. did you not remember the promise you made all that time ago? D: you're going to be wed now!

✧ king rollo and king malleus are at war and you're the poor royal stuck between them, as your kingdom is between both of theirs on the maps. orz and both of them want you to side with them, for they're both hopelessly infatuated with you. for extra drama: the three of you were inseparable childhood friends. >:)

✧ classic somnophilia thoughts. knocking you up while you're in deep sleep. malleus trapping you in a dream that feels like reality, in which you live a happy, domestic life with him. or being stuck in a strange dreamy time loop that you're desperate to break and get out of, but malleus is intent on keeping you here forever.

✧ classic fairytale scenario where you're sent to slay the dragon, but he slays you instead (by spearing you on his cocks!!!! <3).

✧ isekai manhwa sort of plot in which you wake as malleus's maid/advisor/spouse/guard, but according to the plot of the story you're fated to die at his hands because your character ultimately betrays him/does something that warrants death (or maybe you simply die because he threw a fit and you got caught in the raging crossfire). to change this destiny, you make it your mission to get on friendly, happy terms with him. unfortunately, you only give him more reasons to love you even more than he had before and so now you may have avoided death, but you can't escape the stifling obsession.

[minho-hoho]

Shush

☾ GENRE ➝ yandere, mafia

☾ PAIRING ➝ yan!mafioso!yeonjun × gn!reader

☾ WARNING ➝ yandere themes, mafia related themes, violence, blood, murder, etc...

☾ REQUESTED ➝ no

☾ WC ➝ 0.8k

☾ NOTE ➝ uhh i actually wrote this and a quite lengthy taehyun one shot but it got deleted so sksksks i just lost hope and stopped coming to tumblr for a while srryyy

MASTERLIST

you were shaking under the covers of your bed, as if the almost constant state of fear you were living in wasn't enough, yeonjun had to do his business in your house. the screams and threats were freezing your blood, you were terrified that anyone would get hurt, and that you, would get killed because of what you considered yeonjun's reckless behaviour. for someone who claimed to only want the best for you, and only acted with your best interest in mind, he sure was being dangerous towards your safety. the only thing you could do was wait patiently, praying that whatever thing he was doing, was ending soon.

you heard a scream of intense pain followed by a loud thud. the voice didn't belong to yeonjun, but you didn't know if that reassured you any better. did he kill someone in your house? you wanted to get up and check up on him, and what happened, but the thought of the possibility of seeing a dead body laying on your living room's floor was frightening.

you carefully tiptoed to your bedroom's door, and tried to listen to any sounds that might come out of the living room. for a few seconds, only a dead silence fell on your ears. the silence stopped as a string of curses left yeonjun's mouth.

quietly, you slightly opened the door, enough for your voice to be heard.

“yeonjun..?” you called out his name, your voice quivering a little.

his eyes immediately darted your way, looking at your figure peeking through the door. not knowing what to say, he stared you, his dark gaze piercing your skull.

“what happened, is everything okay?” you asked, a bit reluctant, not being able to decipher his emotions.

yeonjun sighed, looking at the corpse laying next to his foot.

“this is what happens when you decide to go outside and disobey.” he walked towards your door.

it was true, you went outside and went out with some friends when you were forbidden to do so, as yeonjun was scared that the wrong people would get you and him, and hurt you. you regretted ever going out with someone heavily involved in the mafia world, in every step you took, you were reminded of the risk that and of the chances that you'd get harmed by anyone in the opposing mafia to yeonjun's. and on top of that, you added his obsessive and overly protective behaviour towards you, you deeply regretted ever agreeing to go out with him, your mental not being able to take any of yeonjun any more.

but even if what you did was objectively dangerous and stupid, did that mean that he had to kill someone? at this point, you didn't know whether he did it to protect you, because of his borderline psychotic and obsessive behaviour or because he simply enjoyed witnessing the death of over human beings.

“because of what you did, people now know about you, and i need to kill even more people for you.” he was now in front of you, towering over you, maintaining a chilling eye contact with you.

“no matter how much i warned you, you still went against my directions. do i need to threaten you? to show you the corpses of the people i've killed? because i can, and i will if that's what you need.” shivers ran through your body, you knew that by working in a mafia he had to do some shady stuff that potentially involved ending some people's lives. but you never thought he'd kill some people because of you. especially if it could have been avoided.

a wave of guilt washed over you as you felt at fault for the death of many. your shoulders dropped, and tears started to well up in your eyes. yeonjun's eyes were piercing through you in the silence. you looked down to your feet, remorse still eating you, you took a shaky breath before muttering low excuses, your voice unstable.

unbeknownst to you, yeonjun was smirking. his efforts were paying off, he had successfully manipulated you into feeling culpability for things you didn't even control. he was now sure you'd never leave his side, which was his ultimate goal, it was all he dreamt of.

he sighed, before taking you in his arms, startling you a little. “it's okay, just, don't do it again, okay? let's not spill more blood than needed. be careful, and as long as you follow my orders to the letter, you'll be safe and happy.” his shirt was now wet by your tears, you nodded, determined to not make any more mistakes.

yeonjun grinned, he kissed the top of your head. you sobbed in his chest, as he softly rubbed your back, trying to comfort you back into a happier state.

he finally achieved his most important mission, and he was more than overjoyed inside.

PERM TAG LIST! : @stacey-stonem, @sh1mzu, @axartia, @echantedrose, @leeknowbuttsmasher, @nikipedia07, @deafeningballoonnacho, @scrumptiousphilosopherunknown

[nikeiyomiurioverthinker]

Nikei Yomiuri has BPD: the masterpost

So I've been formally requested to make a post on why I believe Nikei has BPD- so strap in, folks, this is gonna be a long one.

I want to preface this with, I am in no way a mental health expert, I am in no way qualified to actually diagnose anyone with anything, but I am a weirdo who likes to read the DSM-5 for kicks who also happens to think about Nikei Yomiuri a lot. Everything I say needs to be taken with a grain of salt, yadda yadda yadda, you know how that all goes.

TW for discussions of sui, CSA and SH. I am not planning to discuss any of these topics in depth (except for the first one, due to just. Nikei being Nikei), but if the topics distress you in any way, I would advise simply not reading this. Look after yourself.

So, firstly, I would like to discuss how BPD develops. Though there are many possible causes, such as genetics, affecting the on-set of BPD symptoms, one of the most common causes is childhood abuse, especially CSA. We currently do not yet know Nikei's backstory and how he was 'saved' by Utsuro, but it is commonly believed that it had to do with CSA. It both explains some of his behaviors- the weird hypersexual tendencies and his extremely negative reaction to being touched by Mikado from behind, for example- and 'fits', so to speak, Void's tendency in everyone there suffering some sort of child abuse. This is mostly to explain how Nikei fits the common parameters of someone in whom BPD could develop.

Now, as for the diagnostic criteria: the DSM-5 dictates there are 9 major symptoms of BPD, and in order to qualify, the patient needs to fulfill at least 5.

Before I go over which of the symptoms he fulfills, I want to start with stating that Nikei is a particularly hard character to get a read on, mostly due to him faking his personality for the greatest majority of the game, and though I do not believe everything about him that we see is 100% fake at all times, it would be presumptuous of me to discern what I personally believe to be real or not. Therefore, I will keep myself limited to:

His actions throughout the game (plus the ones he made from behind the scenes and also what he did before the actual happenings of the game)

Nikei's bouts of anger (which he is shown to be physically unable to control)

Chapter 6's Void Theatre (since Linuj has stated that Nikei was being truthful in it and was thus is 'real self')

Talking about his anger… symptom number 1, "Inappropriate, intense anger that can be difficult to control" and symptom number 2, "Rapidly shifting intense emotional dysregulation". I don't think I need to go too in-depth when talking about how he fits these symptoms. If you have played the game, you know Nikei is shown to turn easily aggressive in ways he seems unable to control. I think the scene that highlights that the most is the one in chapter 4 while everyone is in Nikei's room- right after Mikado leaves. Nikei is unable to calm himself down, and has to cut short the meeting due to his inability to regulate his emotions properly. Honestly, Nikei in the fourth trial could also be used as an example for this.

Symptom number 3, "Frantic efforts to avoid real or imagined abandonment". The man's gut reaction to Emma, Hajime and Iroha 'leaving' him was to come up with a plan to fuck over the man who took them away from him. It's actually a little hard to express myself in-depth on these first points, because I feel as though it would just be me repeating the game's plot points or just. Describing his character, rather than adding anything new to the discussion… of course, it's also pretty obvious that Nikei has extremely unstable relationships (again, Void), so he fits the fourth symptom as well, "Unstable and chaotic interpersonal relationships, often characterized by alternating between extremes of idealization and devaluation, also known as "splitting" ". He doesn't necessarily 'split' on anyone in game, unless you count the fact that he can go from developing a crush on Sora to hating her guts in chapter 4, though in that case, his sudden hatred is more than understandable, considering the context- but I have to stress, it is almost impossible for us to know how Nikei feels about people in general, since most of his relationships are technically developed off-camera. As I am talking about Nikei's relationships, I feel like it would be a disservice to this 'theory' to not bring up this specific answer to a question that Linuj himself gave:

Nikei is not healthy with his interpersonal relationships. While this comment is strictly about romantic relationships, it is not a stretch to say that he gets obsessive about others in general- ergo, his relationships are unstable by definition.

Our fifth symptom is "Markedly disturbed sense of identity and distorted self-image"- one of his most obvious characteristics as a person is his inferiority complex, which feeds into his desire for power. To this, we can also add his struggle with his own self-worth. We don't know why exactly Nikei idolizes his hand as of yet, but it doesn't take an expert to realize that no matter the reason, his obsession with it doesn't exactly give us the impression his self-image is in any way stable.

Theoretically, I could stop here, since to be diagnosed you only need to fulfill 5 symptoms, but I am an overachiever to a fault so I'm gonna go on.

Symptom number 6, "Impulsive or reckless behaviors (e.g., uncontrollable spending, unsafe sex, substance use disorders, reckless driving, binge eating)". Now this might be weird to some of you, since Nikei doesn't really show any of these behaviors in game (again, not counting personal headcanons for this, so even if I do believe Nikei is definitely a reckless driver, I can't exactly say that counts since it is 100% based on vibes) but these are all just examples of reckless behaviors- Nikei has just significantly more personalized ones. Like, say, participating in a killing game of his own free will, or using an actual stun gun on himself rather than just pretending to be unconscious, or randomly changing key details of the plan he made supposedly months prior on the fly (ie adding Teruya to the mix when his spot was originally supposed to be taken by Syobai). Assuming Nikei has BPD actually makes chapter 4 make more sense.

"Recurrent suicidal ideation or self harm"- this is the last symptom I am going to talk about, and the primary reason for the TW at the start. This is probably gonna be somewhat headcanon-y, and if anyone wants to disregard that as such I cannot exactly fault them for it, but hear me out: Nikei's plan counts as a suicide plan. Nikei is not an idiot- he would have known that, no matter how it ended up going, if he failed or not, Nikei was gonna die either way- if his plan worked and Yuki was executed, Mikado would have retaliated and killed him in revenge; if his plan worked and Yuki got away with it, he would have died in the mass execution; and if, how it happened in canon, he failed he would have been killed, too (Mikado may have said that he would have forgiven Nikei if he returned back to Void, but let's be real here- that was a bold faced lie. He was just gloating). This plan would have ended up with him dead no matter what, and he was okay with it- which I don't need to tell you, is not exactly something someone who has never considered suicide before would do.

(Also random thought that I probably wouldn't be able to fit in another post- Nikei's execution itself is fairly odd, in the sense that he was ultimately the one who killed himself. He was the one that ran up the stairs, he was the one that jumped off the building, he was the one that failed to catch the ladder- hell, jumping off a building is a pretty common suicide method. His death is unique in the sense that he brought it all to himself- he was the only executee that wasn't tied down in any way, all his actions were truly his choice. He didn't need to run away from the Monocrows, but he did. He didn't need to go up the stairs instead of down, but he did. He didn't need to jump, but he did.)

The last two symptoms are:

Chronic feelings of emptiness

Transient, stress-related paranoid or severe dissociative symptoms

Which I don't think I can apply to Nikei in good conscience, since it's pretty hard to discern how that man is feeling at all times (other than, well, when he is raging). That would wound up being wayyy too headcanon-y for even me to excuse. Like, do I believe he is depressed? Absolutely. Do I believe he has PTSD? Certainly, but I can't point to any exact action he takes in game and point to it to say that he is 100% depressed. It's mostly just vibes. And again, I don't really need to? I have already given ample evidence as to why I believe Nikei has BPD, even without these last two symptoms.

(I mean, I COULD prove that Nikei has PTSD- if we consider his more than likely sexual trauma and his reaction to him being grabbed by Mikado specifically, someone who he considers to be a threat- that certainly feels like PTSD to me. Even without that, I genuinely doubt anyone that lived through the Tragedy DOESN'T have PTSD. Anyway I am losing track of the post here-)

I don't exactly know how to end this, but yeah! That's about it. Nikei has BPD, thanks for coming to my TedTalk.

[kishibe-kisser]

Wish I Never Met You (Ghost/Teaser)

A/N: Sorry for my absence y'all, I had exams and was studying like crazy. But that's over so you all can see my new big project!! Let me know what you think and if you want to be tagged.

Tags: Zombie Apocalypse au!, Ghost x afab!reader, mentions of blood, death, Soap, Price, yelling, arguing, enemies to lovers, smut (smut tags in actual post)

“You get used to being alone so long, being around so many people can be overwhelming.” You admitted and you felt absolutely pathetic. A solid roof over your head, people that want to look after each other surrounding you and you couldn’t get a night’s sleep? You hated your body and mind for being so ungrateful.

He knew the feeling well, better than most. He struggled with this when they brought the first batch of survivors on base. They were strangers to him, sleeping a few feet away from him and they were loud. They weren’t really loud, he knew that. But you never quite realize how loud people are in general until it’s all taken away, it takes getting used to and he felt somewhat… sympathetic towards you. Being in the military equips you with coping mechanisms for things like this, it was harder for the average person.

“You’re not the first one to experience this. Which should be comforting, you’re adjusting normally.” Price told you and you feigned a smile. “If you need anything let me know.” Price added on and dismissed you. You didn’t feel comforted really, but you knew you needed to fight through it. It was a safe space and you hadn’t met anyone yet that made you uncomfortable, Ghost aside. You could do it, you had been through worse than a sleepless night.

You had been dreading the night and doing anything possible to avoid thinking about it. Oddly enough, there was plenty to do. You helped organize some of the canned food, looked into the farming system they had set up and helped cook dinner. It was a community and helping out made you feel better.

“There you are! Was beginning to think you were never going to show up.” Christine smiled as you entered the barracks. She had been kind to you from the moment you walked onto base, though it was clear she had been well socialized already. She never seemed to have an awkward moment with anyone and well, you were filled with them. It was nice to know she was worried about you though, it was dark outside and you had to sleep at some point.

“Yeah, was just doing a bunch. What’s up?” You asked, slowly walking together towards your cot. “One of the Lieutenant’s asked me to pass this along to you. You know, Ghost, the one with the skull mask.” She smiled, showing you the items in question. Earbuds and a historical fiction novel. “Did he say anything?” You asked, accepting the items with hesitation. He hadn’t said one kind thing to you since you got there, whatever this was about it couldn’t mean anything good. “Nope, just asked me to pass it along.” She said and you nodded in understanding, despite not understanding anything at all.

“Can I ask you something.” You said, mouth speaking before you even realized. “Of course.” She beamed, brushing her long blond hair behind her ear. She seemed eager at the chance of getting to know you more. “What’s his deal? Ghost’s. Like I’ve only seen him in the mask.” You asked, watching her smile pull even wider. “And that’s the only way you will see him. It never comes off. He’s a good guy though, I think. The most he’s said to me was asking me to give you that. He takes good care of everyone though. Just not with a lot of words. The kids think he’s a superhero.” You found yourself smiling at the way she talked about him and you could totally see the kids seeing him as a superhero.

The mask thing didn’t become anymore clear to you and well, you definitely weren’t going to ask him about it. You simply took his token of kindness and kept your mouth shut.

A/N: Like I said let me know what you guys think! Full thing should be posted towards Friday!

[lavender-rosa]

Kny characters ranked from least to most likely to be scammed

Sanemi: He is so paranoid and distrustful to everyone and everything around him (himself included, always) to the point where it is reaching delusional, self-destructive proportions. Sorry for the mental illness king but at least you aren't getting scammed.

Iguro: Growing up in a cult taught him relatable, every day lessons like: If a snake demon asks you to feed your babies to her in exchange for gold, maybe, don't do that? Being raised in this environment made him apply a highly suspicious framework to so many things, a lot of times to his own detriment. Like assuming that every single male wants to steal his crush away because they dare breathe the same air as her or god forbid, engage in small-talk. Despite all that he still manages to rank above Sanemi, somehow.

Shinobu: She will allow people think that they are succeeding in scamming her when in actuality SHE is scamming THEM. We are talking Jimmy McGill level shenanigans over here.

Giyuu: He just wants to fuck off in some hole and die he does not care about your essential oils #toodepressedtogetfinessed

Muichiro: Manages to avoid being scammed by being completely apathetic and dismissive towards the scammer (assuming he is even bothering listening to them in the first place) and immediately forgetting what even the scam was all about in the first place.

Uzui: Most of the times he is able to use his critical thinking skills to distinguish scam from not and he can be a pretty decent conman himself, although he is not immune to being overtly suspicious or on the other end, people getting the better of him.

Gyomei: Is able to objectively analyse and evaluate an issue in order to form a judgement without being gullible or paranoid, like a healthy functioning adult. Congrats on the fully developed pre-frontal lobe, Himejima.

Rengoku: The fact that he suspected that a random 15 year old human was one of Muzan's spies and thus should be killed without any substantial evidence shows us that he is able to be highly suspicious of people (and it makes us glad that he never pursued a career in law) but this does NOT negate the fact that he fell for the greatest scam of all time (fatherly approval)

Tanjirou: People assume that due to Tanjiro's age and kind nature that he would be easy to scam, what these people don't know is that Tanjiro is a human lie detector. Things do get trickier for him though when the interaction is not happening via face-to-face conversation.

Inosuke: Inosuke manages to avoid being scammed by 1) being raised in the wild by boars for most of his life thus blissfully unaware of pyramid schemes 2) resorting to violence when he finds people annoying 3) no sane scammer wanting to chose the boy wearing a taxidermied boar head as a target. But he is NOT immune to getting scammed when his physical capabilities are getting called into question.

Zenitsu: You would assume that due to Zenitsu's advanced sense of hearing he would be able to distinguish truth from lie, but recalling the fact that 8 different girls managed to scam him out of his money and make him drown in debt and that in the Kimetsu Gakuen comics Douma managed to sell him overpriced water under the guise that it was a love potion I guess that's simply not the case, at least not when the possibility of getting a girlfriend is involved. Thankfully for Zenitsu "hot babes in you area" pop-ups did not exist in Taishou era Japan.

Mitsuri: She has a huge heart and wants to believe the best in people even if said people have a huge white van parked outside with a sign saying "Free Candy"on it,alas.

And lastly HUGE shoutout to all the demons who back when they were still human clicked on a pop-up ad by some Kibutsuji Muzan guy saying "CLICK HERE IF YOU WANT TO LIVE A BETTER LIFE" this unfortunately installed a virus in their brains that drove their already fragile minds to complete insanity. Sad.

[givemea-dam-break]

hi honey! can you do a anthony lockwood x reader, with #49 from the prompt list? maybe reader is close friends with kipps and anthony gets jealous so he hangs out with another girl to make reader jealous, and it works, so kipps threatens lockwood?

i love your work btw 🫶

a/n: of course!! thank you for requesting, and i’m so glad you like my stuff, thank you for your support <3 I'm assuming you mean my angst prompt list as that's the only one with a prompt that makes sense lol. i hope you enjoy! also (for anyone) let me know if you want to be added to my tag list for any lockwood and co fics <3

warnings: mild language, angst prompt: "Are they really just a friend?" gn reader

tag list -> @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy

Lockwood has been avoiding you, and you're not sure why.

It started a few weeks ago.

Usually, the two of you would spend mornings together in the kitchen, talking over steaming cups of tea as you waited for Lucy and George to get up. Your afternoons could go any which way - relaxing in the house, taking consultations with possible clients, running around London for god knows what. Evenings, well, they were your favourite. If you weren't on a case, either with the whole team or just paired with Lockwood, you'd sit in the library together, simply enjoying the other's company as you read one of the many novels in the house and he sifted through magazine after magazine.

Now, though, it's all changed. Lockwood is never in the kitchen when you're there on your own. He doesn't sit next to you during consultations, or invite you on his errands around the city. Worse, he isn't taking you along on cases with him, opting to take Lucy or George instead.

It shouldn't upset you the way it does, but it's not like you can help it. He's your closest friend. Your partner in crime. Without him, what are you?

Lucy has her theories but you're not overly convinced.

One of her theories sits in front of you currently, sipping a mug of coffee under the bright lights of the Costa you chose to hang out in today.

"Any interesting cases lately?" Kipps asks. "I can't imagine Tony would like to take any of the boring ones, but I suppose he'll have to take anything he can get, really."

You glare at him half-heartedly. "We take anything we can get, but that doesn't mean it's a bad thing. We help out the people who can't afford your fancy services. And, yes, I'll have you know we did have a particularly strange one, recently."

One of his eyebrows quirks up. It looks like a bushy caterpillar. "Go on."

"This murdered woman, right, who had been wanting revenge for her death. Turns out, the house was being occupied by some descendant of her murderer. He got ghost-touched, ended up dying, and then his husband came to get our help. You'll never guess what her source was."

Kipps thinks for a moment. "Her favourite necklace, stuffed under the floorboards somewhere."

You cross your arms in an X shape and make a 'wrong answer' buzzer sound. "It was her old record player that had gotten passed on from owner to owner. Apparently, the record on it had been on it for so long that it had melted onto it. The song had been playing while she died."

"That's awfully grim." Kipss takes another sip of his coffee, but he frowns as if it no longer tastes as nice. "And any improvement with Tony? Any conversations longer than five words?"

"No," you say miserably. You stir your spoon around in your tea, hating the way one guy has made your mood go from relatively okay to the opposite. "I don't know what I've done. I invited him to come to Arif's with me the other day, yeah? You know what he said? Lucy would love to go. And that was it! Lucy wasn't even home. The prick."

His gaze flickers to the door of the café. "You might want to keep your voice down."

"Why?"

When you turn, you realise why. In comes Lockwood, hair damp from the rain that pours down outside and jacket dripping, but still as radiant as ever. His face is almost glowing from the brightness of his smile as he laughs at something the girl beside him says.

Something in your chest squeezes horribly at the sight.

You turn back to look at Kipps, plastering on a smile as you swallow the burning feeling in your throat.

"He's coming over," he says, sipping his coffee - not - casually. He seemingly can't decide whether he should look at you or the person approaching. "Act normal."

As you sip your tea, which has gone a little cold after being left untouched during your conversation, Lockwood's shadow covers the table.

"(name)," he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice. "What a surprise to see you here."

You press your lips together. "Yes, well, I told you I was coming here today. What a coincidence."

When you look up at him, he's wearing that dazzling smile of his, and your breath catches. How long has been giving this other girl - the one who floats by his side - that very same smile? Has he smiled at her in that private way of his, where the corners of his lips twitch a little? Has he told her why he's got a scar on his forehead, and the stupid story of how he got it?

"Tony," Kipps says, giving him a curt nod. "(name) and I just met up to catch up on things. It's been a little bit since we last saw each other."

It's almost unnoticeable, but a muscle twitches in his jaw. "Two weeks, if I'm right? That time when our cases were next door to each other." he pauses then, glancing at the girl beside him "Oh, sorry, how rude of me. (name), Kipps, this is my friend Talia. Talia, this is Kipps, supervisor for one of the Fittes teams, and this is (name), my employee."

Your teeth grind together. "Just an employee? Hmm, okay."

"Nice to meet you," Talia says, smiling.

She seems nice, and you want to like her, you really do, but you can't. Still, for her sake, you repeat the phrase politely.

"Well, we best go get a table," Lockwood says, "before they all fill up from the lunch rush. Let's go, Talia. See you soon, (name)."

Despite wanting to swear at him, you give him the best smile you can muster. When he's gone, you visibly deflate, glaring at your croissant.

"Don't look at the pastry that way," Kipps says. "It hasn't done anything to warrant that."

"Oh, shut up."

--

Back at 35 Portland Row, the house is quiet. As far as you know, George is at the Archives researching for the next case you have coming up in a day or two, and Lucy is out getting supplies from Satchel's along with general shopping. You half wish you had gone with her rather than going to see Kipps.

During the rest of your time alone, you get some cleaning done. You've been putting it off for a while, but the washing-up basket is so full of dirty clothes that there is a mound as tall as your hips beside it. At this point, it's unavoidable.

You're halfway through folding the first load of washing when the front door opens.

"Be careful!" you call from the bottom of the basement stairs, hoping whoever it is will hear you. "I mopped the floor, it's slippy!"

For a few minutes, no one comes down to see what you're up to but, finally, you hear footsteps on the stairs.

"I boiled the kettle not long ago, it should still be warm if you want a cup of tea."

"Thank you, but I just had some."

You freeze for a moment before continuing your folding. Without turning around, you ask, "How was your date with Talia? She seems nice."

Lockwood pulls his chair out from under his desk. The sound is screechy, to say the least. "It was good. She's an agent at Rotwell, you know?"

"Mm."

"How was yours with Kipps?"

The disgust in his voice is palpable, but it doesn't even begin to compare to yours.

"It wasn't a date. Kipps is just my friend."

You can feel the look he's giving you - the disbelief is thick in the air. "Is he really just a friend?"

"Well, Kipps is six years older than me and an adult so, yes, he is just a friend because it would be illegal otherwise." The shirt you're folding probably doesn't deserve the amount of aggression you're handling it with. "It also wasn't a date for the reason that Kipps is my cousin. Now that I think about it, that's illegal, too."

Silence. It makes you feel a little triumphant, to be honest. It isn't often Lockwood is stunned into silence. He's always got something to say.

"Kipps... is your cousin?"

"Yes, he is. My mum is his aunt. Do I need to explain how that works for you?"

"No. No, that's alright. I just didn't know."

You shrug. "Never asked. Not like we were always super close. We've only really started catching up since I joined you guys because I'm in London now and he's my only family here. Not that that sentiment seems to be appreciated."

"If I'd known, I would've -"

"You would've done what, Lockwood?"

Finally, you turn to look at him, practically throwing down the jumper you're folding. He's already watching you, that smile of his nowhere to be seen. If you didn't know any better, you'd think that's guilt in his eyes.

"Would you have stopped avoiding me? Because Lucy seems to think that started when I reconnected with Kipps. I don't - Even if he wasn't my cousin, it makes me ill thinking that you might've thought we had a thing. Ugh, I can't even say it without wanting to be sick. Is that what all of this avoiding-me business was about? Be honest."

His lack of an answer is enough. Usually so full of things to say, it's a shock seeing him this quiet. You wait for him to say something, anything, but nothing ever comes. He just sits there, staring, supposedly figuring out what he should say.

You turn away from him again, folding the last item of clothing. "Your pile is that one on the end. Second load of washing will be done in an hour. I'm going out."

"Going out? Where?"

"I don't see how that's any of your business. I am just an employee after all."

"I didn't mean it like that -"

"Well, that's how it sounded. Jealousy doesn't suit you, you know." You pluck a jumper from your pile, tugging it on. "I'll be back before dinner. George is in charge of food tonight."

"(name), you don't need to go out. Let me just explain a few things."

"I have a great idea! Why don't you explain those things to Talia? I'm sure she'd love to hear it."

--

"I think I was a bit harsh."

"Oh, I don't think you were harsh enough."

Snorting, you stare out at the park. The bench you're sitting on right now, accompanied once more by Kipps, is soaked from the rain, but your jacket is long enough to save your jeans from getting soaked. The rest of the park isn't in much better of a state; there are massive puddles lining the paths, and the trees are sagging from the weight of the rain.

You pull your hood further over your head. "Tell me why you wanted to sit out in a park while it's chucking it down? I would've much rather had to sit in the same room as Ned Shaw than be out in this. My hands are freezing."

"You're the bait."

"The bait? What for?"

"Ah, there he is. My plan worked perfectly."

"Kipps, what are you -?" Turning your gaze down the path to the right, you realise. "No, Kipps, you're not going to bother Lockwood. I can handle myself."

"He needs to get a grip. He acted like a ten-year-old by avoiding you instead of talking to you, and it upset you. This just gives me the perfect excuse I've needed to give him a bollocking."

As he stands, you make to grab his sleeve. "Kipps, no."

But he's already sauntering up to Lockwood. The two meet halfway, drenched in rain. Lockwood's cheeks are flushed from the chill, and, though Kipps is the one speaking to him, he's looking at you.

"Kipps, stop it," you grumble, hurrying over. "I don't need you to mother me. It'll make things worse."

"I for one would like to hear what he has to say," Lockwood says. The challenging tone he always takes on with Kipps really should've been there, but it isn't. It's more of a guilty statement than anything else.

"You're acting like a kid, Tony," Kipps says angrily. "Do it with anyone else, but not with (name), not when they don't deserve it. I've been warning them not to fall for your tricks, but they've been insistent. He's a good guy. He's just going through a lot at the moment. Bullshit. Buck up your shit, or get out of their life."

"Kipps," you hiss. "Just shut up."

"No, I won't shut up, because he's hurting you. I won't stand for that."

"Just stop it! I'll handle this myself. I don't need you to do it for me."

"We all know that you weren't interested in that girl," Kipps says, glaring at Lockwood. If looks could kill, he'd be dead five times over. "You did it to be petty because, what, you were jealous that (name) was spending their time with someone other than you? Grow up."

"Kipps -"

"I'm going to leave now." His voice has grown quieter, even sterner, taking on the tone of someone using his age as leverage. "You two are going to talk this out. But if I find out that you've hurt them again, Tony, we're going to have major problems."

For a moment, he doesn't move, but then he squeezes your shoulder and leaves. You watch his figure disappear out of the park, blurred by the rain, before turning back to Lockwood.

His hair is plastered to his forehead and he's breathing a little heavier than usual. "(name) -"

"Kipps basically said everything that needed to be said," you say, pursing your lips. "I might've done it a little more gently."

A little laugh parts his lips. "He's right, you know."

"Oh, yeah, I absolutely do know. And it makes you a prick."

"It does." He looks down at his feet, guilt clouding his eyes. "I just - I was upset, and I know that gives me no right to have done what I did, but I felt - I don't know. Pushed aside? So I avoided you because it hurt a little less not having to see you all the time and wonder if you were thinking of someone else. Now I know how entirely wrong I was."

You stuff your hands into your pockets, desperate for warmth. "I was worried I'd done something to make you hate me. Lucy had tried to tell me that my hanging out with Kipps was a possibility, but I just didn't think it seemed like a logical reason. That's why I started spending more time with him - you avoiding me made me feel alone, and, yeah, I've got Lucy and George, too, but it felt nice to have someone shake some sense into me."

"I'm sorry, (name). Truly. If I'd known, things would've gone so much differently. I was more than a prick."

"You were." You laugh softly, and the sound has Lockwood's eyes back on you. "Lockwood, you mean the world to me. I thought you realised that."

There it is: that little mischievous glimmer in his eyes. The corners of his lips twitch. "Well, since I obviously didn't, maybe you could show me?"

"Are you sure you don't want Talia to show you? She did seem lovely after all."

He rolls his eyes, taking a step closer. He's near enough that you can feel the warmth of his breath. "Are you jealous?"

"Well, I wasn't the original jealous one, but, yes, I suppose I am."

When his hand touches your arm, you can feel its heat even through your jacket. You wonder if he can feel your heartbeat. It's never gone so fast before.

"So, about showing me that I mean the world to you?"

"You are insufferable."

It doesn't stop you from pulling your hands from your pockets and pulling his lips to yours. He may be insufferable and frustrating, among other things, but you wouldn't have him any other way. So long as he's yours.

[niuniente]

any advice on how to change artstyle? i don't like the one but i'm not sure how to change it and i don't wanna accidentally steal someone's else artstyle

All art styles already exist so you possibly can't steal anyone else's art style. Pick whatever style you fancy!

Stealing in art sense in something you need to worry about only if you ask an AI to draw you something or if you LITERALLY steal someone else's art work and post & sell it as your own. Otherwise, you're only taking inspiration and notes of how someone else does things. Everyone does that in all creative fields. Of course, straight out copying, like taking someone else's art and just changing its colors and claim you did it from a scratch, is a big no no, too.

Mimicking masters has always been the way to learn how to do any art in any medium. That's how professionals artists have always trained.

I personally have never aimed to a certain art style, mainly because I'm inspired by such a wide range of styles that picking just one doesn't really suit me. BUT! My tip would still be the following:

Study how someone who has an art style which inspires you draws or paints. Trace their works for learning purposes (drawing over someone else's lines is mimicking their hand movements - a bit the same if you learned someone else's handwriting). Pick up colors from their pieces to see what kind of palettes they use.

If the artists has drawing/painting videos, check them out.

Allow yourself to be freely inspired by whatever things inspire you.

Many artists do like to talk about their art process and their own sources of inspiration, on which they base their own style and art. Everyone has at least one source of inspiration from a fellow artist and their art style! So, ask away. People generally love to talk about themselves and their art so it's not offensive to ask (although in the time of AI, avoid asking "what is your art style called?" because you can easily be thought to be an AI bot or an AI tech bro hunting down art styles)

I found my own style (which is always evolving, mind you) just by deciding that I'm not going to TRY to draw but I will simply just draw. Doesn't matter what comes out or how the end result looks like, I'm just not going to care but draw. Then, I have added little bits and pieces here and there from existing art styles as "That looks nice! I want to add it into my art in my own way".

As a final word, what needs to be completely forgotten is this myth of an Ultimate Art Style Above Anything Else. Something to aim for and not be happy unless if it has been found. You only need a certain art style for commercial art and I'd say that the commercial artists who have been hired are hired because they naturally have a commercial style.

It's like that rugby player: "I don't have this kind of (muscular & big) body because I play rugby; I play rugby because I have this kind of a body".

[miiukkaa]

Hello!

Love your work and also your design for the movie lair!

Something that bothers me about the movie is how did the turtles find an abandoned subway station? We clearly see the turnstiles, which look rather slim and modern. (These are the turnstiles from the movie and from pics online of the New York Transit Museum.) My guess is that the turnstiles were there in the 1990s the latest, so this is a recently made station. What was it abandoned?

But also, how many entrances to their lair did they have to secure? Sure they have the secret one through the waterfall of sewage, but what about the entrance to the station that people would go through? And what about the rails themselves? Even if the city diverted the track to avoid the station, there would still be a giant hole in the wall.

On a lighter note, since most modern subway cars have their own motors, do you think they go on joy rides?

thank you! :)

i just know that the lair is partially inspired by the city hall station (very real and very abandoned) and that the subway cars are based on the R46 model. no, i haven't seen anyone confirm these facts but it's pretty obvious when you compare screenshots from the movie to pictures of the two.

you make an interesting point with the turnstiles, though! i personally feel they were added for the aesthetic and CLARITY! ("hey viewer, look!! this IS a subway!! i mean, look at these turnstiles!! yuh-huh, that's a subway, alright!!"). so yea, i doubt the concept artists/background artists thought too much about the turnstiles' accuracy!

the amount of possible entrances to the lair is what made me stop in my tracks (hehe) for a moment when designing the lair. it all feels a little too open for comfort, huh? which is why i racked my brain for some possible explanations and hmm

donnie could probably make it so that the abandoned station simply doesn't show up in any of the systems.

the turtles could totally build walls where there were none. i believe this is what donnie had already been doing with his own lab? so blocking away giant holes, while tedious, would totally be plausible.

if a station is abandoned, wouldn't they (the subway people) do something to close it off from the general public? to minimize risks, accidents and lawsuits, right? so maybe the subway isn't only abandoned but closed off, as well.

cartoon logic (goofy cartoon SFX)

one thing that still does bother me about the layout is how april and splinter appear to have driven up some stairs, through the lobby area and then down another flight of stairs until they arrive to ANOTHER set of tracks (separate from the boys' "bedrooms"). this stop seems to be abandoned, too (based on the subway car just sitting there with random junk inside it). like, okay, i can live with that.... BUT FROM WHERE did april and splinter DRIVE from? why was the motorcycle there wherever they came from since??? to my understanding they were driving TOWARD the garage area and---

all in all inside of me are two wolves, the other one wants to stay 100% faithful to the details seen in the movie and the other half is saying that there are simple but understandable inconsistencies/human errors in the movie. maybe the storyboarding team didn't have a super clear description/image of the lair's layout? which again, is more than understandable.

(also yes, i believe the turtles would want to drive a subway car if they had the chance to! though, i'd imagine the joy would quickly leave their faces when they realize they can only drive for about idk, 20 meters (65 feet) before they'd have to switch to tracks that are in active use or they'd just run into a dead end XD).