#Ive been trying to puzzle this out for a while

[hiddenfolk]

Also can someone smarter than me pls analyse the significance of all of the mouthwashing character's fates involving facial trauma in some way. Why do swansea, anya and curly all share the same left eye looking at you, and why is daisuke the only one to lose his left eye in death. Is it the fact that they directly see and/or judge jimmy for what he is while daisuke never has that realisation??? i cant quite put the pieces together.

[telesodalite]

Never getting over Fulcrum being a project manager...

Idk why, but something about that is so funny to me. Not just because the title of "project manager" is inherently kinda funny for a Decepticon, but also because-

1. It's vague sounding and hard to explain irl because it technically exists in multiple fields, like healthcare or manufacturing, which surely translates into canon in some way.

2. In canon, it's simultaneously a really mundane, innocuous sounding job, yet it's also a super morally awful position to reside over depending on the context. (*cough* forced colonization and cyberforming *cough*)

And 3. It solidifies the fact that behind all the surface level militaristic work we get with both the Decepticons and Autobots, there's also Cons and Bots with "normal" jobs in both factions.

Like, sure yeah we get scientists and doctors, engineers and programmers, but usually in big important or warfront positions. (For plot reasons, understandably.) But it's also really funny and interesting to think of those that worked background positions, or minor jobs.

Like an Autobot working in their equivalent of an HR department, or a Decepticon who runs one of their outpost's or starship's kitchens.

Just all the pre-war jobs that didn't just disappear with the war, but instead evolved to exist within the factions.

It's particularly funny with the Decepticons though, because it could be a super mundane job or situation, but because it's them, it has to have an air of ~e v i l~ to it, either legitimately and/or merely for the vibes, like Tarn's "performance reviews".

[jrueships]

can you please walk us through the relationship between wemby and jabari the people need to know

i think the most notable thing about vic and Jabari's relationship is that they don't have one, when it would be so beneficial if they did. they're like two soldiers fighting for the opposite sides of a war, too loyal to the cause to stop and think about what could have been if they just lowered their respective weapons aimed by cold hands larger than their own. foils by fate, friends by freedom.

' remember, you will Always be Different. '

' remember, you will Always be Replaceable. '

'Replaceable'

Jabari's dad made it in the NBA, then didn't. He was a big that could shoot, but wasn't a post-up man. Back then, post-up was the desired style. Ironically, now, it's all about shooting. But his dad didn't live in the now, and his career in the US was short-lived, to keep it cordial. Jabari's older brother played basketball throughout his whole life, but stopped after college. Jabari's cousin, Kwame Brown, was drafted 1st overall in the lottery, and became a notorious bust for the Washington wizards.

Basketball is a business. Basketball is fleeting.

It doesn't matter that a big with sharpshooter skills is valued as something so 'prized' in today's nba, not back then, not when it would have mattered for Jabari's dad. Making it is one ballpark in its own, but Staying in it? Can perhaps be an even more painful ordeal when the hoops to accomplish it aren't circus hoops, but a plain hill some just don't have the strength, mentality, or the materials to help climb without distraction or pitfall.

Jabari's dad made sure Jabari had this threat forever ingrained in his mind. When he yells at Jabari for misplaced eye contact, for typing the wrong words in a public social media reply, for reacting in a way a camera might misinterpret, it's out of love. Jabari's dad was known for being a hassle to coach back then, maybe because he knew his potential and no one else did because it was too new to the mold. So he makes sure Jabari doesn't follow his same habits. Jabari is polite to authority, simply replies with a 'Yes Sir' or a 'No Ma'am', he holds eye contact, he wakes up hours before he needs to just to jump rope, just to uphold the standards that his family could not. He is Everything his father is and isn't, plus more. When his team wins, he's still talking about his missed freethrows even 8 hours later. Because someone else could have won the game And hit those free throws too . someone from a family that gained success and stayed in that success. Someone who wasn't Just Another Son of a basketball player trying to do what his father couldn't, someone who was Different .

Everyone knew wemby was different. When his literature class was asked to write an essay about your future dreams in life, he wrote a fictional romance about a couple where the woman got in a car accident and was comatosed as a result, but got better in the end. He didn't write about being a great basketball player one day, because his parents don't pressure him to hunker himself into the norm, even though his mother once was and now coaches. If Wemby one day realized this wasn't for him, they would encourage him to leave and follow whatever greater passions propelling him. He's so agile for his size because his dad was an Olympic talent in track and field. He is someone who has hobbies and talents that are considered common alone, but strange combined, because he loves what he has and what he does. He reads every night for one hour before bed not to appear as some pseudointellectual, but because he Genuinely loves it, and when he loves something, he excels at it. He does try to be different, but not out of ego. He just loves to be. He either accomplishes at 200% or zero. It may be 200% in an unexpected direction, but it's His direction and that's what matters. If he somehow does wind up a bust, a possibility he considers without fear but acceptance as potential fate, then he won't go down as yet another failed first pick. He'll fall as he flew, Victor Wembanyama.

' Different '

' Replaceable'

Jabari winces each time he's subbed out, even for a second, even on an injured ankle, he's silently Stubborn, his posture shrunken and his gaze at the ground yet his eyes, big, wobbling, staring up always at the speaker, he's silently scared.

Jabari doesn't Want to be different. He just wants to be what his family couldn't be when it came to fame: irreplaceable . His parents split when he was younger, he tries his hardest to appease them both as to not cause any more issues. The relationship relies on his shoulders more than ever, and he can't fumble it again. He has to be what his dad couldn't so his dad can stay, commenting on commonality or surprises. He wants to support his still working mother, especially after the split. He doesn't Want to be unique, he just wants Security.

Because this can crumble any moment now, it doesn't matter how high your pick was or how bright the future Could Have been or how the game would later shift to your style if you had just somehow Stayed. Why bet on low chances if you know you can't handle the risk. He shakes any college coaches' hands that showed up to his practices, personally thanks them for coming even though he's one of the best in the country so their presence should be a given to him, it's not. When he picks a college, he picks one that guaranteed their faith in him from day One, and didn't require any further prodding to finally say '.. Maybe we'll offer you a position' like Kentucky did, as big and famous as it is, it wasn't Secured . They saw him as a risk at one point, and that's everything he's been trying to avoid when it came to attention, negatively standing out.

Jabari wants to be known as the strong shoulder to the world. He WANTS to be known as That One Guy who can just carry everything, nameless but Good. He just wants to be Good. Please tell him he's good. Please tell him what he's doing is Good. That basing his entire personality around yet another soldier who ultimately fell in battle but fought nonetheless being nameless is Good. Please feel free to give him all your burdens to bear like he's just some mule, an animal, a Tool .. because that means he's Useful, at least. That means he's Good. And if he isn't good, then he's nothing. Because you can always just buy another one anyways. A better one.

'Different'

Although his parents try not to treat Wemby by simplifying his differences into a strictly labeled, simple FUTURE BASKETBALL PRODIGY box at birth, that doesn't mean that can always stop others from doing it. Wemby signed his first autograph at ten years old.

It didn't matter if he was a kid who was so much more than just his basketball future, basketball fans wanted one thing from him and one thing only: Success. People didn't care about his literary skills or his drawing hobbies. The eyes on his alien needed to be smaller 'so your shoe can sell better, trust us, it's still Your drawing.. your weird little .. not money-making hobby, do believe me, Vic, We know what We're doing. You just stick to whatever you do.'

His differences, in the end, are minimalized just to that. He's just Different. That's what everyone says who wouldn't really care to say anything at all if he never hooped as well as they wanted in the first place. The youtube videos of 40 year old men criticizing his 15 year old games didn't Really care if he was just a kid, they just cared in the 'imagine when he reaches peak physicality? imagine the points (money) he'd make for the nba.' His beautiful differences, artistic, soft, unique but oh-so wonderfully common and passionate.. are all dissolved into 'Different', the Base definition.

he's an alien. Someone you can just dump all your poverty franchise worries onto because don't worry, he's Different. Trust me, he'll save your team. 'He's Different. ..am i talking about how he'd effortlessly answer questions in class while also trying to hide the fact that he's playing on his phone by tucking his bony legs awkwardly in his chair and crouching his spine over that it looked almost scary? HELL NO? what does THAT have to do with BASKETBALL?? no, he's just freakishly long, but like. Gifted. Though. ... I don't know, man, he's just DIFFERENT, okay? you can trust me, i'm a sports podcaster, okay? everything i say is gold.'

A celebrity approaches him because he was different than most famous basketball athletes. He was Different. And yet, when he didn't recognize or notice her presence due to Different cultures ( due to Being Genuinely, Detailedly Different ), he was scorned and ushered out of public eye so another possible pr bomb couldn't injure his reputation as a Difference That They Really Would Rather Not Want.

that's what his reading falls into, his old friends, his family, his art, his personality. If it's beyond ball, if it's beyond Business. The world only cares if it's marketable. Sure, some reporters will ask a question outside of sport, but only because it'll be a Different.. funny little nugget of knowledge for fans to laugh at then soon disregard for what Really made him famous. But, Wemby is what he always wanted to be. He's Different. So What if it's not exactly the kind of Different he actually wants, he actually functions on? No one has the time to perform 200% anymore. Slap the label you wanted and call it quits, stop being so High-Maintenanced. That's not marketable.

You're just different. And to some people, that's all you'll ever be. No need to explore it any further. Who knows, your Consumers might find something they won't like. And we can't risk that happening to our greatest circus freak.

i mean. Generational basketball talent .

If there's a press conference going on that somehow includes the two, then Wemby just wants to be sure everyone can hear what he really wants to say, in his own words, not echoing anyone else's, and Jabari just wants to Be in the Room.

His brother stopped playing basketball because his family said he didn't try hard enough. Jabari Can't have that. His whole life revolves Around basketball, around sport. He doesn't WANT to be DIFFERENT if that isn't the soundest option, he just wants to be GREAT. Because GREAT is SUCCESS. Jabari Smith is not success. It's just a retry at it . His father shares the same name.

Wemby's life did not always revolve around basketball, to people, at one point. At one point, Wemby's life was just his life. Now, it seems like only his family think that, and they're from a whole other country. When he comments on videos critiquing his playstyle, he doesn't do so out of anger or questioning, he does so because he genuinely Wants to improve. He Does want to be great. But, he wants to be great in Everything that he finds interesting. He always did. When he likes an author, he reads All their books, not just their most notorious novel. He wants to be transported into other people's worlds so he can learn, so he can change, so he can be Different. Even if he somehow were to lose all of this fame, this Greatness, this job, this opportunity, he will never really lose. Because he's someone who's always taken opportunities to the fullest, so even if they pan out a little differently, that's Fine, really, because he's different. Not in the minimizing, dictionary definition then leave the meaning at that different, but in the butterfly effect. What he once was ten days ago is not exactly the same of what he is now, and it hurts, sometimes, when people fail to see that, or simply don't want to because textbook different is easier to digest than worldly different.

IN SHORT.. theyre foils. i can't Exactly walk u thru their relationship bcs .. there Isn't one.. & that's what's so Interesting about them. That's what makes their relationship, to me. Because if they WERE to be friends, if they somehow in some alternate world WERE to get paired up on the same team... they would be friends. I really think they would be. Not only because their signs are so compatible, or their differences are so stark, but because their similarities would triumph everything beautifully. Maybe. We don't know because they Weren't paired together, we can only speculate. But i think it would be big and beautiful, whatever they would have, it would be Something.

unfortunately, we don't live in an alternate world where they're teammates though ! Double unfortunately, Jabari and Wemby's biggest similarity is their loyalty to the game (a double-edged sword in both their lives from Jabari's silent unhealthy desire to be limited and Wemby's silent desperation not to be) Wemby, in Jabari's eyes, is Indeed a powerful...

Problem.

He's not really a person to him . In all fairness, no one really is when they're involved in the basketball world, not to Jabari, not from the way he's been taught. Everyone's supposed to be Replaceable, a faceless tool in the pocket of good business.

.. except for This freakazoid. Apparently.

APPARENTLY, he's some supposed 'saint'. someone to be feared for being more. APPARENTLY, the reporters just LOVE yapping about him SO much, that Jabari HAS to take the time out of his training just to talk about some guy who doesn't even GO here, yet when they ask him about his opinion on future prospects. WELL, that's ALL wemby IS to Jabari, just another future prospect. Just another problem.

A problem he'll be sure to check off his list.

... okay, so Maybe he's a bit more than a problem.. maybe.. he's just a really persistent problem? yeah, that's it, nothing more. Jabari will work through this. He Always does. That's what he does well, Work.

Wemby wonders if that's all he ever does .

But he doesn't have long before Jabari's marching down the tunnel to beat himself up over all his mistakes other people would never make, and Wemby's being escorted to an interview that other people would never make solely to show how Much he just Stands Out as a soul... in basketball .

I hope they find each other in basketball, and out of it as well. I just feel like

Something would Happen

[indecisive-dizzy]

today I learned that my nightmares can be cool inspiration for at least one horror game

Here's this morning's concept: an Escape Room Tower, where every floor is a new puzzle. It's gimmicky with haunted house vibes. But wait that's not all!

Your friends are mysteriously disappearing and coming back as horrifically disfigured monsters! now you have to finish the puzzles and survive in order to reach the top to get to the exit! oh and the gimmicky horror vibes become,, not gimmicky. that is real gore now.

[waywardsalt]

honestly this fic is probably going to end up around 15k words

[goldfades]

MORE CONTROVERSIALLY YOUNG GF X SID

ive been having the worst insomnia ever so here's a blurb<3

It started with you staring at the ceiling.

The digital clock on the nightstand glowed red in the dark—2:13 AM. Your body was tired, your mind wasn’t. It wasn’t loud thoughts keeping you up, either. Nothing stressful, nothing particularly nagging. Just one of those nights where sleep felt like an impossible task.

Sidney was next to you, fast asleep, breathing slow and steady, one arm draped lazily across your waist. He was always warm, always solid beside you, a grounding weight even in unconsciousness. You swore he could sleep through anything. Planes, loud hotel hallways, your tossing and turning.

The only thing he ever seemed to wake up for was you.

You sighed softly, shifting under the covers, and just as you expected—he stirred. Not much, just a slight shift in his breathing, the faintest tension in his arm before he relaxed again. His grip around you tightened instinctively.

"You okay?" His voice was rough, sleep-heavy.

You bit your lip, feeling a little guilty. "Mmhmm."

Sid’s face was still buried against the pillow, but he made a quiet, unconvinced noise. Then, without opening his eyes, he tugged you closer. You let him, letting your body curve naturally against his, fitting like two puzzle pieces.

His warmth seeped into your skin.

"You’re awake," you murmured.

He hummed, his lips brushing against your hair. "You’re awake," he corrected.

A soft smile tugged at your lips. You pressed your cheek against his chest, closing your eyes, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing.

"Can’t sleep?" he asked, still half-asleep himself.

"Mmm." You inhaled the faint, clean scent of his skin, letting yourself settle. "Just one of those nights."

Sid let out a slow exhale, his hand running absently up and down your back. It was so easy, the way he touched you—not in any deliberate way, not trying to do anything. Just holding you, his palm warm against the curve of your spine, his fingers tracing lazy patterns over your shirt.

For a while, that was enough.

Silence stretched between you, but it wasn’t empty. It was full of quiet things. His fingers against your skin. His breathing, slow and deep. The occasional shift of his legs under the sheets, brushing against yours.

You weren’t sure how long you laid there like that. But eventually, Sid shifted, pressing his lips lightly against your forehead.

"You want me to tell you a story?" he murmured.

You let out a soft, sleepy laugh. "A story?"

"Yeah," he said, voice still hoarse from sleep. "Something boring. Put you to sleep."

You smiled against his chest. "So you admit you’re boring."

Sid’s hand stilled for half a second before pinching your side lightly, making you squeak. "That’s not what I said."

You giggled, shifting closer, tangling your legs with his. "Okay, okay. Tell me a story."

Sid was quiet for a moment, thinking. Then:

"Did I ever tell you about the worst pre-game meal I ever had?"

You snorted. "That’s the bedtime story you’re going with?"

"You said you wanted boring," he reminded you.

You sighed dramatically. "Fine. Continue."

Sid smirked, but you could hear it in his voice more than you could see it in the dark. "Okay. So, this was early in my career. Rookie season. We had a back-to-back, and the second game was in some small-town rink. Not a lot of food options, so the guys and I found this one restaurant that looked halfway decent."

You hummed, eyes slipping closed as he kept talking.

"It was some mom-and-pop Italian place. Looked nice enough. I order a simple plate of pasta—"

"Simple?" you teased, voice muffled against his chest. "You?"

Sid poked your side again. "Do you want to hear the story or not?"

You giggled, nestling closer. "Go on."

"Anyway," he continued, "I take one bite—one bite—and I immediately know something’s off. It’s sweet."

You made a face. "Sweet?"

"Yeah. Like, sugary. Like someone dumped an entire cup of sugar into the marinara sauce. I thought maybe I was imagining it, but then I look around and every guy at the table is making the same face."

You laughed softly. "Did you say something?"

Sid let out a low chuckle. "Nah. We were too polite. Ate the whole thing."

"Ew."

"Yeah."

The silence that followed was heavy with warmth, with the ease of being with someone who just fit into your life.

Sid brushed a hand over your hair. "Feeling sleepy yet?"

You hummed, eyes still closed, fingers toying absently with the fabric of his shirt. "Mmm. Maybe."

Sid made a soft sound of acknowledgment, pressing another absentminded kiss to the top of your head. His arm curled tighter around you, his hand resting at the small of your back.

You exhaled, letting go of whatever it was keeping you awake.

Sidney made everything easier.

The way he just was—warm, steady, solid. The way he didn’t try to fix everything, didn’t ask a million questions, didn’t make a big deal of it. Just held you close and let you exist exactly as you were.

You sighed, tucking yourself further into his chest.

"You’re good at this," you murmured sleepily.

Sid’s voice was soft, full of something you couldn’t quite place. "At what?"

You yawned. "This." You curled your fingers around the fabric of his shirt, as if to emphasize. "Us."

Sid was quiet for a moment. Then, voice barely above a whisper:

"Yeah. I like us."

You barely had the energy to respond, sleep finally pulling you under. But just before you drifted off, you felt Sid press one last kiss to your forehead, his grip tightening ever so slightly.

And just like that, you were asleep.

[revelboo]

I was rereading Gravity because it was one of my inspirations for the song I ended up writing about Optimus and I just realized I accidentally made it a waltz.

https://www.tumblr.com/mi-mi-ri/775082342247202816/sneak-peek-of-the-optimus-prime-x-yn-song-ive?source=share

I wanted to share a bit of it because your fics have been helping me emotionally so much 😭🫶

This is so cool! I’m glad you’ve been feeling creative 💕

Gravity- one shot Waltz

Optimus x Reader

• “Do Cybertronians dance?” Lifting his head from a report at your question, he watches you move around his desk. Dancing by yourself when he’d give anything to dance with you. Would you let him? Or would that be another line you draw and refuse to let him cross. Afraid of letting him get too close. And not even realizing that for him, it’s too late. Loves your attitude, those quick, mischievous smiles and the sound of your laughter. “Besides the horizontal tango, I mean,” you add, laughing when he frowns slightly.

• That one went right over his handsome head. Most of what you say probably does, but he’s good enough to just look slightly puzzled and to go with it. “We dance.” Motions faltering, you stare up at him. Really? ‘Show me,’ you demand, aware that you sound like a little kid, but this you need to see. “Show you?” He repeats. And maybe you want to dance with him. A real dance not just grinding on a stranger, the air thick with cigarettes and your skin itchy with glitter.

• There’s a challenge in those eyes of yours as he sets his datapad aside and presses him palms against the desk. Vaulting up and mass shifting, stumbling a bit before he finds his balance. And your eyes drift up and down him as he holds out a hand in invitation. Your little hands so soft as he curls his servos around it and sweeps you up against his frame. Aware of how inexperienced he is with this. That while Senator Shockwave had invited him to parties, he’d rarely attended and then only so the other mech could pretend to be occupied talking business with him to avoid being pulled into a dance. They’re all sharkticons, the Senator had whispered once a bit too loud, lips curling into an almost smile. That memory fills him with an unexpected melancholy as he tries to remember the dances he’d seen. Trying to remember the steps. Not what they’d done to the Senator for daring to question them.

• For a moment, there’s something in his expression. Almost pain and he takes an uncertain step, resting a hand against the small of your back. It’s a waltz, you realize. Or something close. Following his slow, uncertain lead, there’s a vulnerability in his hesitant movements. Resting your cheek against his chassis, his palm slides up your spine, servos splayed. You can hear his spark thrumming, those little noises his internal systems make. Familiar sounds. “Thank you for not laughing,” he says, venting to stir your hair. “I know I’m bad at this.”

• Palm shifting against your spine, he chases the steady beat of your heart and the feel of you breathing. Needs those things or he can’t recharge anymore. Needs the feel of you. “You’re really not,” you reply, your free hand on his chassis and tucking his chin to see you, your eyes are closed. Relaxed in his arms as you let him guide you. Those words you don’t want to hear on the tip of his glossa. Wanting to say them anyway even if you get angry with him. To tell you he loves you, but he swallows them down again, spark aching. Taking what little of you that you allow him to have and being thankful for it.

[lovedrruunk]

'A Fresh Start 𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐[part iv]

She's weird, she's creepy, she's a total stalker, and now she's... loitering outside your door...? [part iii]

You paced your living room, arms crossed tightly over your chest, teeth chewing the inside of your cheek. You felt like an idiot.

What were you thinking showing up to her house uninvited, banging on her door and shouting her name like a lunatic? No matter how hard you tried, you couldn't help but feel that showing up like you did had been a mistake. 

The look in her eye when she opened the door haunted you. It wasn’t anger, not really. It was something else entirely. Fear? Guilt? Whatever it was, you hated that look on her.

You stopped pacing for a moment, your arms falling to your sides as you let out a heavy sigh. What was the point of trying to fix things now? You’d probably just scared her away for good. Why did you always have to push things? You should’ve just left her alone, I mean clearly she didn’t want to be friends. 

But then you couldn’t help but wonder: why the hell had she been following you then??

You groaned and flopped onto your couch as your mind raced. It didn’t make any sense. If she didn’t want anything to do with you, why had she gone out of her way to be near you? Why had she constantly stared at you from afar as if she wanted to say something?

None of it added up, and the more you thought about it, the more frustrated you felt. Maybe you were overthinking it. Maybe she wasn’t following you at all, and you’d just misread the whole situation. But… no. The way she’d looked at you when you confronted her, it was written all over her face. She’d been following you. You were sure of it.

“Ugh.” you groaned, dragging your hands over your face. This was hopeless.

Every time you thought you had a grasp on her, she’d do something to throw you off completely. She was impossible to read, like a puzzle missing half its pieces, or a windup monkey without its gears. And as much as you wanted to forget about it, about her, you couldn’t.

Because deep down, you cared. You hated seeing her so… isolated, so withdrawn. And even if she didn’t want to be friends, even if you’d scared her away, you couldn’t help but feel like she didn’t deserve this.

Pushing yourself off the couch, you started pacing again. You wanted to fix this, to figure out some way to show her that you weren’t just trying to bother her. But how? After the way she’d turned you away, what was the point?

Part of you wanted to march back to her house and try again. But the other part screamed at you to stay put, to not make things worse, to wait until she was ready.

But god did you want to see her.

You huffed again. You felt like a stupid teenage girl kicking her feet and hitting her pillows while whining about her latest highschool crush. You wanted to see her, you wanted to see her so bad it was driving you crazy. It was irrational really. She was a total freak. New in town, avoidant, creepy, and frankly, a little bit of a bitch. All negative traits associated with someone you shouldn’t be seeing. So why did you want to so badly? All your alarm bells were going off but it was hard to tell if they were yelling or singing.

Either way, you decided that this time you wouldn’t be impulsive. You’d choose logic over feeling, because obviously that’s what any other responsible adult would do… obviously. Logic over feeling. Rationality over impulse. It sounded easy in theory, but as you sat there, staring at the blank wall across the room, it felt impossible. 

What if she thought you hated her? What if she thought you didn’t care? Or worse, what if she thought you pitied her?

She’d probably slam the door in your face again if she thought for a second you were pitying her. You knew nothing about her yet you couldn’t help but feel like she would be the type.

You groaned, flopping back onto the couch. "This is ridiculous," you muttered to yourself. "I'm ridiculous."

You stayed still for what felt like hours, the only sound you could hear being the faint ticking of the clock. You couldn’t sit here forever, pacing between guilt and worry. But you’d already decided: no more impulsive decisions.

…

So why were you halfway to the door before you even realized it?

Your hand froze on the doorknob. You couldn’t go over there again. What happened to all that logic over feeling talk? Before you could scold yourself and retreat back to the couch, a sound from the other side of the door made you pause.

A shuffle. A creak. The distinct sound of someone sighing.

Your heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, you wondered if you were hearing things. After a short pause you decided that it wouldn’t hurt to just check, for your own peace of mind if not anything. 

Turning the doorknob to quickly open the door, the sight made your breath hitch.

Powder was crouching on your doorstep, looking up at you like a deer in headlights. Her eyes were wide, her hair messy, and she looked just as nervous as you felt.

“You!” You shrieked.

She opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out.

"What... the hell are you doing here?" you managed to ask after a long pause, your voice softer this time so as to not freak her out.

She shot to her feet so fast she almost lost balance, quickly tucking something into her pocket. Her eyes darted to the ground as she fidgeted with her fingers. “I don’t- I wasn’t-”

“You weren’t what? Just crouching on my porch for fun?”

She looked back up at you with a sour expression, her cheeks flushing a bright pink. “I didn’t think you’d open the door!” she blurted out defensively.

“It’s my house!” you said, exasperated.

“I know that!” she snapped back, louder than she intended. Her eyes widened, and her voice softened almost immediately. “I just... I wasn’t ready.”

“For what?” you asked, but she didn’t answer.

The air was heavy and the atmosphere was thick as you waited for her to respond. Her lips parted again as if to say something, but instead, she shook her head and spun on her heel, dropping onto the top porch step with a huff.

You took a minute to look at her. Just a couple minutes ago you were telling yourself to stay away from her, and although you agreed, you couldn’t help but feel grateful for her visit. It felt right, y’know, her being around.

Staring at the back of her messily cut hair, you wondered why she’d dropped by in the first place. Two days ago she was shooing you away like a fly, but now, for whatever reason, she came to you this time. You wondered what changed.

You sighed as you followed her, sitting down a few feet away. Neither of you said anything at first, the silence filled only by the far away sounds of the townsfolk heading home as the sun set.

Finally, you spoke first, your voice quieter this time. “You know, you don't make much sense.”

She didn’t look at you, her eyes fixed on the sidewalk below. 

“I know.” she muttered.

“Then help me out.” you said, trying to keep the frustration out of your voice. “What’s going on here?”

“I... I don’t know.” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

You turned to look at her, noticing the way her fists tightened. For someone so closed off, she looked more lost than anything else.

You felt a pang of guilt, and although you knew she'd never stand for being pitied, you couldn't help but feel bad.

“Well...” you said after a moment, leaning back slightly, “whatever it is, there’s no rush.”

She glanced at you out of the corner of her eye, her lips pressing into a thin line. She didn’t say anything, but the fact that she didn’t immediately run away felt like progress.

‘There's no rush’ the phrase replayed in her head for the millionth time. It was just like you to say something like that wasn’t it? Sweet, patient, so sure of yourself. Meanwhile, she felt like her insides were about to explode.

She hated how much she cared about your words, how they lingered in the back of her mind, how they actually managed to reassure her.

“You’re being too nice to me.” she said finally.

“How so?” You asked, keeping your tone light.

She shook her head. “You just are.”

You groaned dramatically. “You’re so confusing.”

She laughed dryly in response.

After a short pause you leaned forward, resting your elbows on your knees.

“I like being nice to you.” you said simply.

She froze. For a moment, neither of you said anything.

“I don’t know how to deal with that.” she admitted finally, her voice small.

“Then don’t” you replied. “Not right now at least.”

Powder looked away, blinking rapidly. She stood abruptly. “I have to go.”

You stood too, subconsciously copying her. “Powder, wait–”

She turned to face you, looking at you fully for the first time since you two sat down, before quickly cutting you off. “Here, this was for you.” 

She extended her fist towards you before opening it to reveal a crushed and wilted flower. 

You hesitated before accepting it, it was a cute offer but you were more confused than anything. You stared at it for a second before the sound of her boots rushing down the steps caught you off guard. 

“H-Hold on!” you called out.

She stopped in her tracks, turning her head slightly to look at you through her peripherals.

“Are you… free tomorrow?”

. . .

[Part v]

it wouldve been real fucking funny if i made her trip and fall down the stairs

ANYWAYS THEYRE SO CUTEEE AWWW (i say as i am the one who wrote it)

TRUSTTTTTTT that PART 5 WILL COME A LOTTT SOONER!!!! updating takes me awhile when im not sure how to go about the story BUT I HAVE RLLY CUTE AND FUN IDEAS FOR THEIR HANGOUT SO WRITING IT WILL BE MUCH EASIER!!!

also posting this on my bday is so funny to me like wow life of a teenage girl

[taglist ( ;´ - `;)!!]

@cattjull @kenqki @powderbomb-jinxed @iamastar @lostdreamingwallflower @errorlovernotfound99 @raven437 @cartalige @poncho-fisch @crushh-existz @slxtcity @jinxslapdog @radioheadfan699 @alduinworldeater11 @dulleyeddreamer @alicenasflowers

[USERS I CANT TAG 4 SUM REASON (◞‸◟；)]

@sacrasm-is-my-form-of-attack @wonylvxv

[angeliteeyes]

I have an idea for astral express reader x kafka

Like, most of the fics ive seen with that dinamic the thing is that the relationship is a secret but i think it would be funny af if it was otherwise and everyone on the express knew and they werent mad but just tired.

Like, imagine that scene from the start of the luofo mission, everything is kinda tense but everyone sighs in exasperation.

Thanks in advance if you end up taking this request :D

Anon this idea is HILARIOUS lmao, thanks for sending this. I'm imagining the Welt/Himeko disappointed stare they'd give you as you all find Kafka and they realize the chaos that's about to ensue. They try to get back to business and interrogate Kafka, and you're just. Behind them blowing air kisses at her. She isn't even looking at them anymore, too busy winking back at you. It's a whole mess

Kafka x Astral Express Reader

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

Within the Xianzhou Luofu, countless sounds could be heard echoing against the multi-colored walls. Children playing, merchants desperately trying to pawn off their goods to passersby, and your loud voice, easily piercing through it all.

"I'm telling you, they've got the wrong idea! There's no way Kafka would do something like that while I'm involved." You huffed as you trailed behind Welt and Himeko, stomping with each step in frustration. Welt turned to look at you with tired, droopy eyes.

"You may be right. Regardless, we have to understand that the Xianzhou Alliance can't trust the Stellaron Hunters as easily as you do."

March popped up by your side, the remains of a cake roll on her cheek. "Well yeah, even I don't understand what they're thinking!" You opted not to point out her messiness or the fact that you were the one dating Kafka, not her.

You knew fully well when you and Kafka got together about her... unique definition of fun and her penchant for mysterious troublestirring. In fact, that's what drew you to her in the first place. You never really bought the notion that you Astral Express crew were all that different from the Stellaron Hunters. Apparently, neither did she.

So to think you'd end up strolling around a world filled with so many naysayers! Honestly, if they just gave her a chance, perhaps they could see her the way you do. Then again, being the only one this close to her made your heart pound with pride.

"Ughhh, I miss Kafka! All this talking about her's just reminding me that she isn't here." You whined.

"I'm not?"

You gasped. Could it really be...

"Kafka!" You rushed over at the sight of her, colliding harder than you intended. The two of you entangled with each other into a tight, warm hug. Her hands snaked around each side of your waist, and you heard her heavenly voice hum a pleased tone at the affection. Before you heard a forced cough from behind you. Right, guess the others wouldn't be as excited as you are. Lame.

Your lover chuckled at the scene in front of her. "Sorry, dear, but it looks like we have a game of cat and mouse to play." With that, she leaned in and pressed her lips onto your cheek. Her voice softened until it was so quiet, it hardly even registered. "Although... I'd prefer being the one to hunt you. Maybe later we can switch roles?"

You'd begun to giggle and blush at her remark before quickly realizing what she meant; within a blink of an eye, she had already left your side. Double lame.

And so, you and the rest of the crew were forced to maneuver around the various traps and puzzles riddled nearby. Most were native to the area, yet you also picked up a handful of magenta-colored scribbles pasted onto the cities' walls along the way.

"Is that supposed to be me?!"

Curious, you looked over to where March angrily pointed. Looking closer...

"Pfft." You could barely hold in your giggles at the, well, artistic rendition of March left on display. It was shockingly similar to the wanted poster rendition of her, now that you think about it. Probably why she's been staring it down so viciously.

The rest of the drawings you came across were of similar artistic integrity. At least the one of you had a big heart over it and a lipstick stain. How sweet of her.

By the time you all spotted her figure in the distance and caught up, the only ones left with any energy were you and Kafka. Not that you even appeared to notice much, with how occupied you were blatantly flirting with each other from afar.

Himeko and Welt, being the most responsible of the crew, moved closer to her with serious expressions. Although, even from a distance, you could spot their shoulders hunching inward, as if collapsing from exhaustion. Himeko sighed.

"Let's just get to the chase, alright?" She shifted her body weight to one side. "And enough of the winking. At least pretend to pay attention to me while I'm talking for once."

For a moment, Kafka appeared to give her words some thought, moving her hand closer to her lips. "Sorry, but no can do. After all, we don't have much time. Why not spend it looking at the beautiful scenery?" Her gaze transitioned back to you, flirtatious look and all. Everyone else groaned.

Suddenly, the air felt off. Different, and almost... foreboding? You locked eyes with Kafka, silently questioning her. As she gazed back at you, she let out a sigh.

"Give me a second, darling. Looks like we have company."

Before you could respond or even process her words, a flurry of gunshots filled the once-vacant space above you all. Your ears rang in pain, but only for a moment. For a short while after that, a strange sense of stillness passed through you, a calm that by no means should've belonged there and then.

"Rudimentary. Your every move has been foreseen by the omniscia."

In front of you, a short yet elegant woman appeared to float downwards slowly, all the way until her shoes gently pressed into the hard floor. How the... how did she manage to do that? Your face tensed inward a little, but her next words snapped you back into paying full attention.

"I'll be taking the criminal from here."

You were about to argue with her and defend Kafka, when—

"And you over there, be quiet. This is not my first time meeting you, so I already know what you intend to say. I cannot abide by your request no matter how much you argue."

Well, shoot. In that case...

"And no, I will not arrest you and let you stay with the other criminal."

Ugh. Every excuse you wanted to use in order to stay by your sweetheart's side was swiftly cut down by Fu Xuan one by one, much to your dismay. You got the feeling that despite having not said anything in the present, she'd already grown tired of your voice. Kafka, apparently noticing your dejection, stepped in to reassure you.

"Aw, don't you worry your cute little head. We may be out of time to talk for now, but rest assured. I'll be right back by your side in no time."

Gosh, you could never get over just so charismatic she was and how easily she made you swoon. Even as she was being escorted away from you, she still had it in her to remain thoughtful of your feelings and concerns. With a reluctant smile, you waved her goodbye and called out to her.

"You better not forget to call me tonight, okay? I know you're busy, but I'll get too lonely without at least hearing you talk." She responded back, at this point far enough that she needed to raise her voice just for you to hear.

"Of course. Not even fate can keep us apart, dear."

[pelova4president]

Shadows are to protect III

Alessia Russo x Putellas!Reader

Victoria Pelova x Putellas!Reader

shadows are to protect I, II, IV

summary~ Victoria has been nothing but good to you but somehow you find a way to ruin everything

You picked the dead plants up and carried them into your kitchen that was still covered in white flour. Surely you could bring them back to life right. They just needed a little more loving and they’d come back. A little water and some sunlight.

You were puzzled by Alessia’s reaction. She didn’t want you, she made that very clear. But why was she so upset about it. Okay yeah, you made sure to show her that you were over her, that you moved on. But she had a boyfriend, she shouldn't even care.

You took a good look at the plants, they were doomed. In some way they were just like humans. They needed to be taken care of, they need love, light and water. They can't survive on their own, at least not long. Some can, like a cactus. But even they can't remain alive like that forever.

You've been doing most things by yourself, until Alessia. She was your water and sun until she wasn't. And you had held yourself up after but you couldn't keep doing that forever so you'd gone to your sister and then Vicky came along. And Victoria didn't just give you water and sun, she took care of you. And maybe that was the difference between the two of your teammates. One cared for you and the other pretended to.

Victoria was there for you when you needed her and she actually liked being around you. Alessia loved the idea of you, she was there whenever she wanted you. Not when you wanted her. It was a hard pill to swallow but it was the truth. You've been romanticizing this idea of Alessia Russo, the goalscorer, the golden girl, the fucking winner.

And the fucking worst of it all was that you still cared for her.

You fell into a new routine in the upcoming weeks. Victoria insisted on driving you to training even though she was clumsy in her car, maybe even more than Alessia. She'd buy you coffee on the way to training and you'd kiss her thank you every time. It was nice, she was nice.

Victoria took you out on dates after games and you'd have little picnic dates after training. You'd make the food and she covered the drinks. The two of you would spent hours playing with puppy’s and talking. You loved the park.

Training was less enjoyable. You got dirty looks from a certain striker and especially when you were with Victoria. Alessia took it upon herself to make trainings a living hell for you. She tackled you harder than was necessary and was throwing you at the ground every chance she got. You were absolutely fucking done with it and so were your teammates.

“God, Alessia what has gotten into you!” Leah scolded the blonde when she made yet another unnecessary hard tackle. “Nothing, just a bad day.” she grumbled. But Leah knew it wasn’t a bad day, she’s been doing this to you for a long time now. “Whatever, keep that out of training okay. No need to injure our own players.” Leah told her. You rolled your eyes at her, why did she have to act like this.

It wasn’t until days later that you spoke Alessia again. She hadn’t reached out since that kiss with Vic. You didn’t try to text her, if she wanted to say something she should be the one reaching out to you.

Vic drove you to Viv and Beth’s house. They planned some kind of victory dinner before the national camps. You were actively trying to get more along with the team since Victoria was close with most of the girls and you knew she’d love it for you if you got closer with them. Viv was like family for her so you tried your best to put your awkward self away to attend a team dinner.

Everything was going fine, Beth welcomed you in and Rona and Myle were happy to see you too. The dinner was amazing, since Viv cooked it for you. It’s been a while since you had a home made meal so it was nice. There were people all over their house talking and eating, it was kind of like team hang outs you had in Barcelona.

Looking around, in search of a Dutch girl’s eyes your eyes caught those of an English player. Her blues were drilling into you. It was hard to ignore the feeling of someones eyes on you, so you didn’t. You stared right back at her and the only reaction you got was a huff and some eye rolling. Jesus, what did she want.

You got up, ready to pour yourself another drink. “Vicky, you want another drink?” you asked the brunette. She was in a conversation with Teyah so she shook her head no. You walked towards their kitchen. The chaotic noise of conversations was still somewhat on the background but the quieter space was still nice.

Filling your wine glass with some water, something Caitlin would take the mick out of later, you leaned into the wall.

You were somewhat in peace until someone bumped into you. Your eyes shot open, “What the fuck?” you groaned. Blue eyes stared back at you, totally unimpressed. “What? Can’t take a little push, just like in training. Grow up man.” Alessia rolled her eyes.

Now you were getting mad. She’s been the one telling you to fuck off, how you were clingy and that she didn’t want you. “What is your fucking problem. I’ve done nothing to you, i stopped bothering you right? Just like how you wanted.” you placed your glass on the counter.

Alessia took a step towards you. “Yeah so you got with my best friend to get back at me. You’re so fucking selfish.” she huffed out.

“Joder, I didn’t do anything to you! I’ve let you do your thing with your boyfriend. I didn’t say anything to anyone about us, just how you’d like that right. I was just your dirty little secret no one should know about.” you walked out. But she captured your wrist before you could take another step.

“I broke up with him weeks ago and when i wanted tell you i saw you.. with Victoria. I wanted to say sorry but then you seemed like you didn’t want it anymore.” she whispered carefully.

It was hard to believe she wanted you, especially after what she had said to you. “Don’t say that, you don’t want to be with me. You made that very clear.” you turned around. Alessia’s brows were knitted together and her eyes were getting glossy. But she did that every time. And every time she got what she wanted, you in her bed by the end of the night. And after, she told you those lies all over again. How she didn’t want you, how nobody could ever want you and the next Saturday she’d look at you with those eyes and you’d fall for it all over again. It wasn’t healthy.

“Alessia, don’t.” you looked at her. But she didn’t take that for an answer and took your head in her hands like she’d done on some many other evenings. But those evenings were in one of your houses, where nobody could see. Her lips touched yours and you didn’t pull away, not fast enough.

You heard someone clear their throat and that pulled you out of your trance. You opened you eyes and saw Vic standing there with an empty glass in hand. “I- i uh i was just getting something to drink but..” her voice trembled.

“Vicky. Vic, i’m sorry but it’s not what you think it is.” you got out of Alessia’s grasp but Victoria was faster. She picked her keys up from the dinner table and walked out of the door.

Alessia watched the scene play out in front of her and placed her hand on your shoulder. You pushed her hand off of you. “Fucking look what you did Alessia! I don’t want you okay, you’re confusing me and i don’t need that. I just want someone that loves me as much as i love them and you clearly don’t” you breathed out. The tears had found an escape in the corners of your eyes and they traveled down your cheeks. You wiped them away angrily and walked out of the door.

Why couldn’t Alessia just leave you alone. You were finally getting along with everyone, you found your person, football was going good but she just couldn’t let you be. You’ve hurt Victoria, the only person that cared about you enough to be there for you.

You took your phone out of your back pocket and called her. No answer.

“Vicky, lo lamento. I didn’t want that. I only want you and our picnic dates, your weird movie choices and your clumsiness. I’m so so sorry. I will explain everything if you give me the chance. Ik hou van jou.” you spoke.

You knew she never listened to her voicemail but it was worth a shot. Maybe she’d listen to it. You had to leave for camp tomorrow and somehow that felt worse than your situation here. You had to pretend everything was fine and you were thriving at Arsenal like always. And you had to leave Victoria, that just wasn’t fair. You don’t get the chance to make it right.

And even though you don’t have a choice in leaving, you want to stay, or even better, disappear.

A/N i don’t know what i’m writing anymore. It seems like the story is only getting more angsty and there has to be another part. Should r just disappear and move or something?

[angel-kyo]

Pay it no mind

Part XX

In which reader confesses their feelings to Gojo, but it seems these are not returned (maybe?).

Warnings: reader is on the receiving end of rejection (kinda), and the fact that I'm obsessed with unrequited love is a warning itself. Mentions of injuries, marriage, and... Huh, that's it.

Previous: Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII, Part VIII, Part IX, Part X, Part XI, Part XII, Part XIII, Part IV, Part XV, Part XVI, Part XVII, Part XVIII, Part XIX

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

“Did you know [name] rejected a marriage proposal from the Zen'in?”

Satoru almost spat out the tea he was drinking upon hearing Ieiri’s words. Then he did his best to put on his nicest smile.

“And I thought you didn’t like cracking jokes, Shoko.” He laughed, but in reality, he could not find it funny.

“I wish I were joking,” she said taking her own cup to her lips.

Seriously, it’s not funny.

Why the Zen'in? Who among the Zen'in? Who was idiotic enough to…?

“I’m not sure of who exactly or why. All I gathered is mostly gossip,” Shoko went on, not allowing any more questions to form in Satoru’s mind. “But what I do know is that the rejection was not taken kindly.”

Of course, a rejection would not have been taken kindly by them, but it still puzzled Gojo, and by the look his friend had on her face, Shoko felt the same way. Was it even allowed to reject anyone from the Zen'in?

You did not come from a renowned sorcerers’ clan, for that reason you probably had no one who would fiercely push you into an arranged marriage, but it was also why it did not make sense that anyone related to the Zen'in had taken a special interest in you, someone who virtually had not a strong presence in the jujutsu world.

“When?” Satoru asked.

“Weeks ago, maybe more,” his companion stated.

Maybe around the time they started coming back with more wounds than explanations.

That led Shoko to the second half of her theory. Whoever you had made angry, had enough connections to keep stepping on your heels while you were out completing missions.

Shoko started digging into it after the last time you had come to her back from a battle. Your injuries had been bizarre for the simple routine mission you had told her you were going on that night, and after seeing the report of your mission, she noticed the curse you had fought had been misclassified. “That happens sometimes, it’s unfortunate it happened to them,” Ijichi had said, unaware that those misfortunes had been happening a lot with the missions assigned to you as of lately, as Shoko herself realized after looking at all reports from your missions of the last couple of months.

It could be someone from the higher-ups, but if I told that to Gojo, he might just go and kill them all.

Ieiri took a look at him. Judging by the thin line on his lips, he was in deep thought. Contrary to what Shoko had been expecting, she had surprised him, at least as much as one could surprise Gojo Satoru.

You did not tell him that either, huh, [name]?

“Don't think much of it,” Shoko said in an attempt to pull Gojo back to Earth, "[name] did not tell me anything, but if someone is holding a grudge and trying to do a number on them, I think...”

“I won’t let it happen,” Satoru’s voice sounded definitive. "I won't let anything happen to them."

I hope so, Shoko thought.

***

“Honey, I’m home!” Satoru cheerfully exclaimed upon crossing the door to your apartment.

You rolled your eyes in the kitchen. He had been doing that almost every evening when he came to visit you after work, and such visits had not been scarce either.

At this rate, the neighbors are really going to think he is living here.

“That smells good,” Satoru whispered in your ear, one of his arms already wrapping around your waist.

“You are just looking for a free meal.” You laughed and looked at him. “Why don’t you set the table?”

He nodded and was quick to leave your side to do as requested.

As you sat to eat together, you could not help but smile at how domestic it felt to have Satoru dinning with you any other night, even if he would sometimes leave for work or to sleep at his own place, it felt as if he was installing himself in your life more intimately.

You both talked about your day, your students, and overall, what you would be up to the following day. However, Satoru had left out his conversation with Shoko form earlier. As much as he wanted to know the details of what happened with the Zen'ins and ask why you had not said a word to him about it, he did not want to push for an explanation yet.

Maybe you had been coerced into not talking about it, or maybe you were trying to keep everything still given that the child Satoru (often with your help) was kind of looking after was also related to the Zen'in clan, and that had created discord between them and the Gojo families in the past.

The more Satoru thought about it, the more it appeared to him that the Zen'ins were trying to bug him with the idea of a marriage. He had always considered you family after all, and of course he would never allow his family to fall into a Zen'in’s claws.

***

It was unfair.

It was unfair how good Satoru looked after a shower.

He had taken a quick shower after dinner and changed into the spare clothes he kept at your place.

You were sitting in the living room trying to watch TV, but the man that had just walked in and taken his seat next to you was distracting.

“Like what you see?” he asked without looking at you as he browsed the channels on your TV.

When had he grabbed the remote? And why had you not realized you were staring at him?

“I… Don’t be ridiculous.” You turned your reddened face away from him and stood up. “I’m taking a shower.”

Satoru smiled as he watched you march away. He knew he was good-looking as a fact, but what he truly enjoyed was having that effect on you. It was only fair in his opinion; after all, you had the same effect on him.

Satoru looked at the screen in front of him but did not feel like watching anything, so he turned it off and walked to your room.

He heard the water running when he passed by the bathroom door, and he assumed you were still in there, so he went right to your bed. He sat down and that was when he noticed the drawer of your bedside table had not been closed properly.

He had no intention of snooping, but the cover of the book inside caught his eye, so he took it.

Pride and Prejudice.

Satoru observed it. It was a used copy but in pretty good shaped. His first thought was that you must have obtained it from a secondhand store.

Why would they put the book in the drawer and not on the shelf with the rest of their collection, though?

Satoru knew you read a little bit of everything, but he did not know you were a fan of romance, let alone of Austen, but he would not have teased you for it... Or maybe just a little.

He opened the book on the first page and the hand-written dedication under the novel’s name seemed to answer his question as it read:

"My affections and wishes are unchanged." – I.H.

Satoru immediately knew whom those initials belonged to.

He closed the book and threw it back into your drawer as fast as if it had burned him.

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

Note: This part was initially going to be longer, but at some point, it got divided into two parts. Oh, well... I should get a breather for a couple weeks now that the semester is over, so hopefully I can upload that not too far away in the future.

Thanks for reading!

Next: Part XXI

@mavs-stuff @witchbybirth @crookedlyaddictedone-blog @tqd4455 @maybe-a-bi-witch @mo0nforme @maliakealoha @zacatecanaaaa @blushhpeachh @astriarose @missesgojosatoru @ba-ks @sukunasleftkneecap @songbirdlully @cole-silas @heijihattorisgf @chokesonspit @hersheyzzz @smolbeanzzz @luciledreamz @avidreadee123 @moonmalice @ratscandaler @sadmonke @allie-jay @username23345 @spin-garden @ashehateaccount @kayzens @blehtotheblehtothebleh @stellasloth @bloopsstuff @cheesemachine44 @tetsuski @rosellerinfrost @catowru @bi-narystars

[nights-at-crystarium]

i just wanted to pop by and gush about how incredibly well written vivi is because GOD. his story unfolding has made me reconsider several story beats about my wol and thats an amazing thing

theres two things that i think uve done especially well with his storytelling, being that vivi feels like an almost complete enigma to the reader, despite how intimate this story is, and the fact that vivi feels incredibly human - almost TOO human to be comfortable with

so to elaborate on the first point - i think a lot of us (and certainly i can) echo thancreds sentiment that he doesn't know vivian rell, because as intimate as this story can get with his pov, in the end, much like someone you'd meet in real life, we don't know much about him before the point we meet him, and any glimpses we get just signal that theres so much more to him than we get to see. and as much as we DO know about him, i find that every time he does one of his blank, furrowed stares that signal he's thinking something, my brain practically lights on fire trying to figure out what he's considering. to that end i really like how enigmatic uve made him from a storytelling perspective, because it makes him feel so much more real!!! i honestly look forward a lot to learning more fragments (heh) of him and slowly piecing together a puzzle of him as the story goes on. i just want to rotate him in my head lol

but also, this does segue into my other point really well, which is the fact that vivis position as wol really seems to wear on him, and he seems for lack of a better word, completely exhausted! i know (myself included) write their wols with a trait of an almost unbreakable, iron will, which is very much still true in vivis case (again, anyone who gets to the point of shadowbringers without flat out giving up is incredibly strong by default) but showing him at his wits end, exhausted with the burdens of a hero, someone just so throughly *done* with what is, realistically, a pretty shit job is well... yeah! of course he is! he's only human, and he's what, saved the world 3 times now? seen countless die before him, powerless to save them, of course he's numb. the fact that the most defining experiences of the first for him are filled with mostly such... benign experiences, and that the major, climatic moments of shadowbringers get as much fanfare as a forlong gaze, or a like. him hanging out with his fairy bestie is such a cool storytelling decision. (also before i ramble about this the decision to not even show tesleen is such an excellent decision bc like. it makes sense for him for this to not be such a significant moment. shes just another death, another tally to the thousands hes already seen. or maybe im reading WAYYY too hard into a decision to not highjack this love story with plot) basically, what i've been gushing about is the fact that vivi feels very much like a whole person, and is probably one of the most well realised wols ive ever read about. and his relationships with the world leaders, and this impossible burden hes forced to shoulder has gotten me to reconsider how i write my wol, because yeah! any hero might be strong-willed and resilient, but theyre still human, and the burden of a warrior of light is maybe, a little too much for anyone to bear.

i hope u could at least make something out of my rambles, but honestly to sum it all up i am incredibly captivated by vivi. i originally read fragments because i like ANY wolgraha content but now, i come back almost exclusively to see how vivi's story unfolds, and how graha eventually comes into the fold too. hes such a fascinating character, and i think youve done an incredible job of creating a well rounded hero, full of humanity!!! (also, if you want, feel free to post this on ur blog!!)

I think I shat myself like 5 times while reading this (positive)

Vivi being an enigma wasn't really part of the plan. We have a pool that's his lore, things I wanna tell, and a bottleneck through which it has to go. The comic format forces me to consider what bits of info to deliver when, there's only so much I can tell at a time. One deliberate choice I made is completely burn the bridge between ARR and ShB, skip, leave it empty. That already sparks questions when we see a different Vivi at the beginning of ShB (and gives me leeway, time to write with more nuance, I didn't Think about HW-SB in such scrupulous detail as ShB).

I wanted to tell a primarily ShB story from the start, but had less ambition, and planned to condense the angsty bits that you're reading nowadays into an infodump told by Vivi to no one (to the reader). Changing the receiving party to a tangible character who's eager to learn (Exarch) made the info easier to digest and anchored it in the world. This change, fwiw, happened in like 2022 while I drew the ARR arc, saw the warm reception, and got more excited about my thing. I constantly learn and try to improve, writing's a new toy that brings me tons of fun.

So, when I learned the new trick - telling things through other characters - I thought, why not make everyone slightly wrong, or rather, with a specific snapshot of Vivi in their head. Same happens irl, people only know the version of you that they're exposed to, the only person who knows the full and real you is you.

That brings me to the next point, why Vivi feels so human: I made him not as a wol/hero, but a guy I wanna ship with Exarch, his foil. Obligatory note it was dumb of me to ignore Emet's existence in that case, but that's already changed. Exarch denies himself the simple human joys, he plots his own fucking death, so I thought I'd give him a guy that teaches him how to enjoy being alive again. That was THE foundation of Vivi, his core. He's a manic pixie dream boy.

Then I started asking how and why: why he falls for Exarch specifically instead of ARRRaha? He's confident, selfish, casual (these traits are what Exarch lacks), emotionally intelligent, where did that come from? He must've had an utterly normal life and loving family before he became a hero. He grew up being appreciated and happy. OH, then his ass must LOATHE the current situation because he can't go back to that normal life! So on, so forth.

i find that every time he does one of his blank, furrowed stares that signal he's thinking something, my brain practically lights on fire trying to figure out what he's considering.

This's me carefully dropping the breadcrumbs and hoping that you notice them, and you go HOLY SHIT BREADCRUMBS, this's so validating ;w; <3 This's overtly called a story hook, though I prefer "door". So far this story's only opened doors, as in hinted at more stuff without immediately showing it. I love it when questions get delayed answers, when you get time to stew on it and build up anticipation, then, when the door finally closes, it's much more satisfying. I keep in mind all the doors I've opened, if something provokes a question, it's by design.

(also before i ramble about this the decision to not even show tesleen is such an excellent decision bc like. it makes sense for him for this to not be such a significant moment. shes just another death, another tally to the thousands hes already seen. or maybe im reading WAYYY too hard into a decision to not highjack this love story with plot)

You're 100% correct!! I'm not retelling the canon ShB story from a default wol pov, this's a custom thing focused on ships, therefore anything that doesn't contribute to said ships gets cut. You may read what's NOT shown as what Vivi doesn't pay attention to.

Thank you for sharing your thoughts with me, this gave me so much motivation like you wouldn't know ;//////;

[miorirenkova]

Hi! Can I make a request of THH girls with a ultimate prodigy girlfriend reader that have passion for learning new things (and learns anything at the first try)?

Thank you for reading my request :)

thh!danganronpa girls x fem!girlfriend!reader ⇁

request? yes setup: thh girls with an ultimate prodigy girlfriend ! genre < fluff, typical junko things, cheesy nicknames nd shit, tiny spoilers in kyoko's part

note: thank you sm for the request! sorry if its a bit ooc it has been a while since ive played the games and i tried my best to do what u wanted so hopefully i got it right <3 also this is just a middle post im still working on dream about me dw

below the cut!

SAYAKA MAIZONO !

⃗ would be super impressed. initially maybe a little intimidated wondering how she could be perfect for someone like you

⃗ after the initial stage of shock, she would be quite intrigued and would never pass up an opportunity to hear you talk about it! literally the best listener. so used to being admired herself but now she's admiring you (she honestly already did even before she found out)

⃗ definitely the type of girlfriend to brag about you to others. like 'that's right. that's my girlfriend right there.' while smiling.

⃗ would always ask you to help her write her lyrics or just generally in her performances because of how much she admires and trusts you.

⃗ you would be writing something for her and she would just be looking at you with the MOST love drunk eyes ever

⃗ "you learned that instrument just by.. watching me.. once!? ..you're insane!" (lovingly)

⃗ always trying to be the best version of herself so she can be worthy of being your partner

❝ "how do you come up with these lyrics so fast?" sayaka asks, her eyes lighting up as she looks at you like you just pulled magic out of thin air. "and not just that... they sound amazing. you never fail to surprise me, you know that?" you glance up from the notebook, a small smile tugging at your lips as you meet her gaze. there's something about the way she says it—like she's genuinely in awe—that makes your chest feel a little warmer. "i guess it's easy when i'm writing for someone who inspires me," you say, closing the notebook gently. you lean in, just a little, your voice softer now. "anything for you." ❞

CELESTIA LUDENBERG !

⃗ similar to sayaka, she is also extremely intrigued. admires you shamelessly.

⃗ finds it absolutely adorable how you're always so eager to learn something new. you never pass up an opportunity for something new and she loves it.

⃗ loves how smart you are. celestia's always trying to test you or challenge you because she loves to see you in action (and also maybe the face you make when you're concentrating that makes her heartbeat increase) and see just how smart you are.

⃗ finds your intelligence so hot. like she's like downnnn bad.

⃗ also loves to brag about you just not too openly. kind of like you're are her biggest trophy in the most loving way.

⃗ challenges you to poker and gets absolutely destroyed by you. ends with her trying her best to act unaffected (you're the only person she would allow to beat her. also because she secretly enjoys it)

⃗ her favorite thing to do, despite it being just a little bit cheesy, is to flirt with you in puzzles or riddles. knows that you would solve it in seconds and loves to watch you solve it only to find it be a stupid pickup line by her. you truly have got her stupid in love.

❝ rain patters softly outside as you sit across from celestia, the two of you tucked away in her candlelit room. she slides a folded note across the tea table, eyes twinkling. “a little something to keep you entertained, a mind excercise, if you may.” she says, voice smooth.

you open it and read: “i am always near you, though i cannot be touched. i grow louder the closer you get, and quiet when you’re away. what am i? ”

you look up, smiling. “your heart?” celeste’s expression softens — just for a moment. “correct,” she murmurs. “and just so you know, it's getting louder now too.” you laugh gently. “god you're so cheesy!” she lifts her teacup with a smirk. “only because i know you’ll always solve them.” ❞

SAKURA OGAMI !

⃗ when she first finds out, she has like.. genuine respect. like so much respect for you cause that's amazing??

⃗ after all, she values discipline and dedication so it doesn't take much for you to impress her.

⃗ would act like you're asking her too many questions in the beginning but would love when you ask her about martial arts. loves your curiosity. like a lot.

⃗ whenever she's teaching you something and you grasp it so easily in one try? practically awe struck. it's a sight for sure to just see her looking at you so amazed and quickly collecting herself when you ask her about it.

⃗ also loves to listen to you talk. not too verbal but is willing to spend the rest of her life just listening to you talk. loves your voice and also loves just watching the passion in your eyes and in your voice when you talk.

⃗ you can do the same thing everyday and you would still never fail to amaze her every. single. time.

⃗ you keep eachother grounded. in an ironic way, you are kind of sakura's person to look up to (even though technically.. you look up to her... yk.. with the height difference lol)

❝ you flip through a book you found as you sit in the garden, waiting for sakura to come back. that's when you see her approaching you from the corner of your eye. “you are always learning,” she said softly, kneeling beside you.

you grinned. “you always say strength needs refinement. soo.. i refine my brain.” you say and watch as sakura gives you the smallest, warmest smile—one only you ever got to see. “then let me help you refine your body,” she offered, reaching out a hand to pull you up gently. “mind and strength, together—they are unstoppable.” you took her hand, standing easily with her help, repeating her words. “unbreakable and unstoppable,” you echoed, lacing your fingers with hers. ❞

KYOKO KIRIGIRI !

⃗ literal power couple. like you both are made for each other. ultimate detective and ultimate prodigy together? match made in heaven.

⃗ loves how analytical you can be, sometimes even more than her which means she always appreciate your help. often asks for it herself too.

⃗ you often try to predict plot twists or make deductions before she can even say them herself which she finds quite endearing.

⃗ always ends up admiring you instead of focusing on the case when you're with her, catching herself staring at you with the corners of her lips curving up just a little. mentally slaps herself for it and tries to not work around you sometimes due to the fact she always gets distracted by you in the best way. (ends up calling you there anyways cause you are her motivation in a way)

⃗ you both test each other and keep each other in check, growing together.

⃗ whenever she gives you premises of a case and you immediately understand without her having to tell you once again? she just fell harder in love.

⃗ her favorite thing is to have you lay your head in her lap while you're reading a book. just loves watching the subtle reactions on your face as she plays with your hair or clothes.

⃗ also loves it the other way around. your lap is her favorite pillow no questions asked.

❝ kyoko walked into the room, her eyes softening as they land on you as you stand there, going through the case files she had left. “you’ve been here for hours,” she said, voice low and even.

you glanced up, smirk widening. “these are fascinating. especially the second one—there was a clue in the handwriting. you missed it.” she raised an eyebrow, approaching. “did i?”

you turned the file toward her, tapping a line. “see? the slant. it's different from the rest. someone forged this entry.” kyoko stared at it for a moment, then smiled—just a flicker of it, subtle and rare. “you're always three steps ahead.”

“maybe,” you said, leaning back. “or maybe.. we just make a good team.”

she looked at you, nodding as the corners of her lips curled upwards. "we do, don't we?" ❞

AOI ASAHINA !

⃗ often finds herself extremely lost or confused when you speak. but one thing that's always there is the admiration in her eyes.

⃗ you're some otherwordly person for her. like you are literally her idol. you both are eachother's idols. she can never wrap her head around how you can be this smart. like how is it possible!?

⃗ even if she finds herself confused when you talk about what you recently learned, she will always tries her best to understand a bit and listen to you, eager to learn from you.

⃗ similarly, LOVES to brag about you. like the number one person who brags about you. if she could, she would wear a nametag around her neck that read 'y/n's girlfriend' or 'my girlfriend is y/n' because of how insanely lucky she feels that someone as great as you loves her!? she isn't dumb, not at all, but compared to you!? she feels like she must have saved a city in her previous life.

⃗ "uh.. i'll ask my girlfriend and let you know. she would know!" "you don't know?? pfft, my girlfriend would know!" "shut up my girlfriend is smarter than you." "you should ask my girlfriend! she knows everything."

⃗ almost views it as a competition. "my girlfriend is better than you."

⃗ the people around her get sick of how much she brags about you and how you are somehow always brought up in the conversation, even if it's unrelated. but it's okay, you love her to death too.

⃗ still kicks her legs in happiness when she reminisces about that one time you both had a pastry in a bakery that she loved so much because then you went home and mastered the recipe and made it for her just by trying it once! still wonders how you did that.

⃗ when you learn her swimming workouts easily? she is of course, amazed but also frustrated how you learn something she struggled to learn so easily!?

⃗ acts like she's annoyed but truly she just falls deeper in love every time you do.

⃗ "if you weren't so cute, i would be mad you're better than me."

⃗ it makes her heartbeat 10x faster when you call her brilliant or compliment her because of course, you're her girlfriend and she blue screens with any compliment from you but also coming from the ultimate prodigy you are?! she wants your compliments engraved in her mind.

❝ “okay, okay—how the heck are you doing that already?!” aoi stared at you, wide-eyed and water-dripping, as you popped up from the pool with a smug little smile. just an hour ago, she’d offered to teach you how to do a perfect flip turn, and now here you were—executing it like an olympic swimmer.

you floated over, grinning. “I watched you do it. muscle memory, observation, physics of motion... you know the drill.” she narrowed her eyes, crossing her arms as she treaded water. “you’re some kind of swim sorcerer, that’s what you are.”

you laughed. “or maybe you’re just a really good teacher.” her cheeks flushed just a bit at what you said, and she splashed water at you to hide it. “flattery won’t save you. i barely teached you! you like.. watched me once!"

you smirked as you watched her jump into the water, cheeks flushed just a little. "okay! rematch. race. five laps, 'kay?” aoi said as she swam to you. ❞

TOKO FUKAWA !

⃗ knowing toko, she was intimidated at first. even being convinced you would find her writing silly or juvenile. and due to her troublesome childhood, she would be quite wary and suspicious of you too, never really opening up.

⃗ but when you read her novels and give genuine, thoughtful feedback? oh, she’s hooked. it becomes a habit where she always asks you to proofread her novels before she takes the next step, trusting you more than herself even if she would never admit it.

⃗ also loves your confidence. she isn't too confident herself but when she sees you? and how smart you are? she feels confident too. you help her grow.

⃗ and her genocide jack side? yeah you aren't catching a second of calm.

⃗ insanely down bad. like celestia, your intelligence is so hot to toko.

⃗ genocide jack is obsessed with how smart you are. even obsessed is an understatement.

⃗ “ugh, a sexy brainiac? how am I supposed to compete with that level of hot???”

⃗ loves watching you in your element, especially when you geek out over something.

⃗ probably even gave you some stupid nickname like ultimate sexy smartass or something. you mentally slap yourself.

⃗ toko feels almost comforted by you. she finds herself being able to rely on you for anything because you always kind of knew the answer to everything. makes her feel assured in a way.

❝ "hey toko!" you chime in as you pull a seat next to her, sitting down and watching her scribble onto pages in her book. "wha—! don't just.. appear like that! you surprised me!" you watch as toko looks up, her pen almost flying out of her hand.

"oops, sorry! didn't mean to interrupt the next award winning novel." you say as you grin, watching toko's reaction. "you read it!?" she replies and you mentally prepare yourself for a lecture when she instead pauses before speaking again.

"..did you like it?" toko asks, looking at you expectedly.

you nodded, sliding one of her earlier pages across the table. "it’s brilliant. your imagery? the way you build tension? it’s like watching lightning gather in the clouds before a storm. you write like a genius.”

she blinked at you. once. twice. her skin flushing red from your words. how do you make her heartbeat increase like that.. so easily!? "..are you flirting with me?"

"is it working?" you say smiling. "y/n! i was trying to concentrate here you know—!" toko says, her tone annoyed but the soft smile that she was fighting didn't go unnoticed by you. ❞

JUNKO ENOSHIMA !

⃗ obsessed with you. like insanely obsessed with you.

⃗ at first, she thinks it's such a boringg ultimate. pfft, ultimate prodigy? what even is that?

⃗ but then, when she watches you in action? watches you immediately master something in one try? she's gone for.

⃗ you're like one of the few people who can keep up with her stupid tactics and mind games. hell even counter them. and that drives her insane in the best way possible.

⃗ "and that's wh- junko? are you even listening to me!?" "you're so hot." "what the fuck!?"

⃗ thirsts over you 24/7. never knew she would find someone being intelligent this hot but here she is. never misses an opportunity to make a restraining order worthy comment about you.

⃗ jokes aside, she loves just how insane you are in that way. in brainrotted words, you match her freak immaculately.

⃗ also makes it her goal to test you and tease you whenever she can but she's never surprised when you beat her. she knew you would beat her. she has so much confidence in you it's insane.

⃗ even makes it her goal to find the most insane and twisted puzzles, knowing you would immediately solve it making her so excited.

⃗ does not care at all when you do something better than she can or beat her. hell, she wants you to beat her because she loves it. that's junko for you.

⃗ after you both started dating, she practically abandoned wikipedia or any help books. afterall, she has her own guide now. her hot guide who is her girlfriend.

⃗ literally calls you her hot wikipedia. no shame. zero shame.

⃗ "babeeee, i need your help with something!" "..again!?"

⃗ sometimes (most times) she would already understand something but would still ask you just because she loves watching you help her. freak. (cough)

❝ “i’ve thrown everything at you. despair speeches, manipulation, mind games,” she said, stretching the words out like taffy. “and you just sit there. all calm and genius-y and smug.” junko says, dragging out her words again as she leans back on the couch, acting annoyed. you smirk, laughing at her poor attempts and also her attempts to act like she's annoyed.

she groaned and flopped onto her back. “ugh. disgusting. i hate you. i wanna ruin you. i wanna kiss you.” you tilted your head. “in that order?”

she sat up sharply, pointing a perfectly manicured finger at you. “that right there! that’s what i mean! you don’t flinch. you don’t blush. you don’t even stutter.”

"technically, i am blushing. i'm just good at hiding it, unlike you." you say as you smirk, watching junko roll her eyes as she grinned too.

"anyways.. i meant what i said." "meant what?"

"i still wanna do what i said earlier, you know?" junko smirks as you throw a pillow at her. junko enoshima is going to be the death of you. and likewise you, her. ❞

endnote: hope you liked it <3 do lmk if it wasn't exactly what you wanted. as always, likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated, as well as feedback! thank you!

[zombiequeenblog]

The Sadness

A little hurt/comfort with Papa Emeritus IV to cheer me up, and hopefully you as well if you need it!

Mature ~ 1,500 words ~ ao3

Papa Copia x Sister of Sin

A frantic little knock on Papa Copia’s door and then I stood there for a moment, alone in cold bare feet, only to turn to flee within the space of another tightened breath. His sudden words of puzzled greeting caught me only a few steps down the hall and I came right back, as sure as if he’d taken me by the hand.

“I’m sorry, Papa.” I couldn’t explain, but I felt almost hysterical inside.

“Mia cara, what’s the matter?” Papa stood there, just outside his doorframe, frowning down at my feet and clad all cozy in his shabby faded smoking robe, a calming dusty blue; old shredded slippers just barely hanging on to their existence on his own feet. His lined face bare and shiny with moisturizer, salt and pepper hair combed back and still a bit damp. Reading glasses perched low on his nose, with a paperback in his hand. I’d caught him all ready for bed. Well, of course I had, it was fairly late, wasn’t it?

I shouldn’t even be here.

“Nothing, Papa. Goodnight.”

I turned to go for real this time, but then I felt his touch, tentative on my shoulder, and I stopped. Copia turned me right around again to face him.

“Come in, dolcezza.”

I only looked down at his slippers, but I allowed him to lead me inside. Papa shut the door, tossing his book upon a side table there, and at that sound I could feel something breaking inside me; my brain plummeting all the way down to my feet as he turned back to me. I was crying.

“Dolcezza! What has happened? Amore mio…”

The floodgates had opened, and caustic tears were pouring down my face, spurred on by choking sobs I tried in vain to hold back. Copia had been holding me before him by the shoulders, quizzically trying to meet my eyes, but now he pulled me towards him and enveloped me into a tight hug, his hand firm and warm on the back of my head. “What is wrong, tesoro mio bello?” his whispered voice begged of me.

Sniffing in his scent, I rolled my face along his chest, just crying, and crying, and feeling incapable of an answer, too unworthy to even hug him back. I felt the most worthless I had ever felt in a good long while. Copia let me cry.

But I felt that I should at least try to clarify this insanity, if I even could. “Nothing’s wrong, Papa!” I nearly wailed against him, “I just feel so sad.” Another devolution into tears. “So incredibly, utterly, sad. And for literally no reason!”

“Aaahh… eh?” Copia was gently rubbing my back, and he began to sway me back and forth a little where we stood, “Oh, ah… okay.”

The slight tone of bewilderment in his voice made me laugh only a little, right in the midst of all of my senseless crying. With effort, I summoned some steady breaths to explain. “I think my goddamned period is coming.”

I could feel Papa’s body lighten with the clarification. “Aaah, si, dolcezza!” He was brushing my hair off my tear-wet cheeks, and stooped down a little to press a gentle kiss to my forehead. “The fucking hormones, yes?”

I nodded against him with an anguished smile. “The fucking hormones.”

My voice was cracking in my swollen throat, and my wet eyes burned. It felt as though my lungs were being squeezed within my chest, and fresh sobs soon spilled out of me anew. “Mia cara, mia cara, let me get you something,” he was saying, leading me over to sit down in one of his antique chairs, right beside the fire. A freezing dread sat solid and heavy within me, filling me up with a meaningless despair I simply couldn’t shake off, though I knew, I knew it absolutely wasn’t rational.

Papa took his glasses off and moved away to rummage in a far corner, murmuring something about tea and chocolate.

“Can I… can I just stay here for a little while, Papa?” Standing up, I undid my habit and let it slip down off my shoulders to the floor, shivering in despair even in front of the warming fire. “I don’t think I’m bleeding yet… we can still… if you want to…” I could feel my face suddenly breaking apart in anguish, and I clapped my hands up to cover it quickly, just sobbing into my hands as I stood there naked in the firelight, as if I would never, could never, ever ever stop.

Almost immediately, I felt something soft and warm placed around my shoulders, and Copia was holding me again, having wrapped me right up in his very own robe.

“Shhh… shhh… let’s save that for another time, amore mio… amore mio… let it out, eh?”

Whispered endearments were being poured upon me from his lips into my hair, as I cried into his silk pyjamas, the scent of his evening shower still wafting off his skin underneath. I felt so incredibly useless, and held so gently in Papa’s care I simply told him so, after I could catch a solid breath. I tried to convey how stupidly wretched my treacherous brain was making me feel, and his head nodded above me.

“It’s idiotic, Papa!” I cried.

“That may be, dolcezza mia,” he agreed, “but there’s no harm in feeling it through, talking it out, eh?”

“Yes, Papa,” I sniffed, nodding myself now.

We swayed together there again, warm by the fire as I listened to it crackle beside us. When I felt my swirling thoughts begin to settle, I let myself name each one.

“I’m not pretty,” I began, and he openly scoffed.

“Not true in the slightest, bellissima,” he stated, squeezing me against him tighter.

“I have horrible handwriting, Papa,” I continued, “when I wrote in Sister’s birthday card last week it looked positively shameful…”

“Imperator hates her birthdays, bella,” Papa cut me off with a chuckle, “She throws her cards away, every single year. I’ve seen it.”

I would have chuckled too, but my throat was stiffening up with the saddest thought of all. “My father never loved me.” My words fell out so hopeless.

“Oh, bella…” Letting me go to cradle my face within his hands, Copia tilted me up to look at him. “My father never loved me either!” He said it with a tragic levity, shrugging his shoulders like we shared something funny between us.

It was funny, and I finally laughed.

Papa bundled me up into his arms again as I laughed as if the act were unfamiliar to me. I laughed and chuckled until I almost began crying once more.

“Come, come, dolcezza mia… veni,” he was saying, “Come to bed with me now.”

He was leading me slowly across the room as he spoke, and I felt so completely exhausted now I would have settled wherever he had put me. “I have some snacks, eh? And I can even make some tea with what I have in here, bella. I, ah, thought I might watch a movie tonight… will you join me?”

“Yes, Papa,” I choked out, so grateful for him, “that sounds completely lovely…”

“Good, mia cara, si…” Copia was rubbing my shoulders as we came to his grand four poster, “now crawl on in… get!” He patted my butt playfully.

Papa’s bed was firm, the sheets already thrown back from when he must have settled down into it earlier. Getting in, I lay back on some soft pillows, pulling the thick blankets up over my shoulder to sink right into the comfort of his refuge. I was still wearing his robe. Everything smelt as he did, warm and aromatic. Just laying there, I watched him putter around a bit in his room, stoking up the fire and checking his kettle in the other corner.

Eventually, Copia went around to the other side of his bed, kicking his slippers off and getting in beside me with a satisfied grunt. To have him so near, in the flesh, was better than anything else in this moment, and I snuggled up against him with a sigh when he put his arm around me, tugging me even closer.

“Have the cramps come yet?” he asked me.

“Not yet, Papa.”

“The bathroom’s got everything you might need later, cara,” he told me, fishing his hand about the blankets for the remote. The little television perched on a trolly at the end of the bed was paused, and I recognized the intro of a Dracula movie, one of Papa’s favourites. “Is this alright, amore mio?”

“It’s just perfect, Papa,” I said, “perfect considering all the blood that’s coming…”

Copia chuckled, and kissed my forehead again, and I shut my eyes, my head on his shoulder, listening contentedly to the doomed piano and foreboding strings of Kilar’s Dracula - the beginning start to fill the room. “The year… 1462…”

I wasn’t sure if I could even stay awake right to the end, but I knew it didn’t matter. Papa had me safe and loved beside him, exactly where I needed to be. The merest fluttering of hope began to awaken deep inside me, underneath all of the unwarranted despair and darkness. I began to believe that perhaps tomorrow might be better, and that I wouldn’t feel so sunken in this awful manner for too long. Papa understood. And I had all the time that I needed to purge this imbalanced sadness before the new and clear morning.

All would be well once again.

[littlestarbigsky]

alright gang time to talk abt the parry dads au🫶🏻

i’ve kinda touched on this au before (check the au in the tags if you’re curious lol) but i’ve been cooking with this au for a MINUTE,, like i’ve been yapping abt this w @youllneverseeonascreen since like,, november lmao

pls send asks abt this au i could actually talk about it forever i fear

alright let’s go‼️

it was after the rumble (and for my own sanity, johnny and dally are both still alive :p ) but paul, 19 years old and sick of college, was sitting in the diner, having just seen darry for the first time in two years and his ass kicked by a bunch of hoods. he was angry, desperate, and stupid.

he found a girl at the bar, the prettiest one he could get, eliza, and he started talking to her. one thing led to another, they laughed, they kissed, they went home together. things escalated, and two months later, eliza called to tell him she was pregnant.

things moved quickly after that. she dropped out of school to have the baby, they moved in together, had a quiet wedding, and paul got a job to try and be a breadwinner for the family. they figure out pretty fast that neither of them swing that way (iykyk) but maybe they could commit to each other. he was still trying to get his business degree so he could join his father’s company, even if he wasn’t sure he even wanted that. still, they were happy. loved eliza, or at least he was pretty sure he did. even though nothing compares to what he used to feel, but he can’t have that anymore.

everything changed the day his little girl, stella, was born, six weeks early and fighting from day one. she was a week old before he even got to hold her, and his sole focus was to do anything he could for her, not realizing that eliza had become completely withdrawn. she stopped caring about paul and the baby. this baby was going to be messed up forever and she wouldn’t let herself get caught up in it.

paul though? he was with the baby every minute of the day, sleeping in chairs and on waiting room sofas, signing off on whatever medicines and treatments the doctors recommended, she was going to get through this, he needed her to. her lungs weren’t fully developed, and her fine motor skills would be affected, and she was just tiny.

but, of course, she made it through. they brought her home, eliza doing just enough to be considered a mom, but paul did all of her breathing treatments and took her to physical therapy once a week. when she was old enough to start talking and had a stutter, he took her to speech therapy. he worked on helping her to use her fingers and hands, coloring, working on puzzles, anything he could to keep her from falling further behind.

fast forward a few years…

i’ve always imagined paul had a sister who was much older (her names penny,, ive also done a whole info dump on her lmao) and her apartment complex was having some exterior work done, and she recognized darry within about three seconds. “hey, you’re the kid my idiot brother kept trying to sneak out in the morning, right?”

darry didn’t know what to say, because really, he had expected penny to hate his guts, but the next time paul was over, she waved him down and had him come over to say hi. the tension in the room was other worldly, what can a person say after 5 years? and truthfully, they don’t get the chance to, because stella comes sprinting out and jumps on darry, thinking he’s her dad. she jumps right back when she realizes he isn’t and paul picks her up and calmly tells her that darry is an old friend, and that he doesn’t mind.

penny makes lunch, insisting that darry stay (and also because she is thoroughly enjoying watching the two of them and how uncomfortable they are). eventually, paul asks penny if she can watch stella while he is in court. darry asks why he needs to go, and he explains that he’s getting divorced and that he and eliza are in the middle of a nasty custody battle.

and without thinking, darry says he’ll watch her.

again, ask me literally anything you want to know abt this au,, i’m so obsessed UGH

[antiodote]

she can't finish and they fight - part IV

warnings: strong language, somewhat disturbing imagery

“what could go wrong? except for absolutely everything?”

part I, II & III

/ / /

y/n opened and closed the door as quietly as she possibly could. her effort of not waking her temporary roommate was in vain though, as jane was happily munching down on some takeout while rewatching her favourite episodes of new girl. without turning away from the TV, jane spoke.

“11:02 pm, that’s a new record, girl! do they chain you to your damn desks or what?” 

her remark makes y/n chuckle, more out of frustration than amusement, though. coming home at this hour on a monday night was indeed a new record for her. without saying a word, she leaves her bag and coat at the door and moves to sit next to her friend. she steals a slice of her pizza and digs in without much thought, staring straight ahead and trying to catch up on what was happening on the episode. both of them were aware, however, that she was entirely elsewhere, mentally. so, jane stops the episode to gain her friend’s attention. 

“rough day?” 

y/n turns to face her friend and sighs in defeat.

“rough day, week or month? honestly, I can’t even tell anymore.” her shoulders slump and her gaze wanders as she searches for a way to describe her current emotional well-being or lack thereof. “I just feel exhausted, like, all the time.” 

a short pause makes the air thick between them before jane comments.

“y/n…”

the exhausted one looks up to her friend to find her concerned expression etched deeply into her pretty features. suddenly, she feels a warm hand graze its way upwards the length of her arm, stopping to softly grab her shoulder. 

“you’re burnt out, angel. maybe take some time off, hm? I’m sure you’ll benefit from it-“

“jane, I can’t. you know that I can’t.”

her friend was not having it. “why not, y/n?”

“jane, please. can we not do this right now?”

“you always say that. you never let me help you-“

“you’re helping more than you know already! if it wasn’t for you I’d be homeless.” 

jane took a deep breath to brace herself for what she was about to say.

“and why is that, y/n?”

the girl looked at her friend, puzzled. 

“what are you on about?”

“why are you in this situation, y/n?”

she groaned. “don’t fucking make me say it.”

before jane could interject, y/n put her hand up in protest. it was as if the bare notion of speaking about the recent happenings in her life made her physically ill. and honestly, it did. 

they say a broken heart can kill. what about a broken soul? what does that do to a person? y/n didn’t know. all she did know was that she felt like the life had been sucked out of her, and not in a good way. 

it was terrible. so, so truly terrible and horrifying.

y/n looked at her friend, who looked at her apologetically. she sighed, her walls slowly crumbling. 

“I am in this situation, my dearest jane, because…”

y/n got up instantaneously to fetch herself a drink from the tiny bar cart right across from where they were sitting because it just felt like that kind of night. the silence felt thick and heavy and goopy and greasy and it felt like drowning in a pool of tar. however, as soon as the bitter taste of alcohol hit her tongue and ran down her throat, things felt a little less thick and heavy and goopy and greasy and like drowning in a pool of tar.

so, y/n chuckled. 

“I am here because my lovely boyfriend kicked me out. wonderful, right? now, why did you make me say it?” 

y/n drowns her drink before pouring herself another one. 

“and why did he do that, hmm? what made your angel of your boyfriend treat you like that?” 

y/n turned around, facing jane. she was honestly offended at what she was insinuating.

“are you seriously trying to blame me for what happened?”

“oh, don’t you dare. you know damn well why I’m bringing this up, y/n.”

“please, enlighten me.”  she said, as the third drink was in the process of being consumed. 

jane sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of her nose with her index finger and thumb. 

“god, y/n. look, I know you’re miss independent, as you should be! you’re strong and capable and one of the most resilient and successful people I know. however, and this is a big one, with how you don’t let your loved ones help you with anything at all, and with how you put work over anything, you’re doing yourself more harm than good. no, it doesn’t make you weak to ask for help, and it doesn’t make you incompetent to take a few steps back from work. you need a life, y/n. an actual life, not one where you keep running away from your problems and pretend like you’re the only person you can count on. it makes me feel like you’re shutting me out, and it probably made harry feel helpless as well. I’m not saying what he did was right, god no. what I am saying, though, is that the longer you keep doing this to yourself, the higher the chance is that you will end up alone.” 

y/n doesn’t think she owns a knife sharp enough to cut the tension in the room. she looks at jane, who is red in the face with frustration, and tries to find some sort of flaw in her logic. she doesn’t know if this is some sort of fight for dominance, or just a friend expressing her concerns. y/n wonders if she lost the ability to trust anyone. 

she truly wasn’t up for this kind of conversation right now.

“jesus, jane. time-out, please. I know you mean well, but I really can’t do this right now.”

jane sighs, y/n can no longer face her friend, and things feel uncomfortable. 

“look, y/n, I get it. I really do. but don’t let your trauma stand in the way of what you truly deserve. you deserve a fulfilling career, not a soul-crushing one, and you deserve help, especially when the people who love you want to do nothing more. it doesn’t matter if you feel like you need it or not, because everyone needs it. you’re human, dude. try acting like one.”

and with that, jane got up from the couch and made her way to her room. she turned around halfway to say an earnest “I love you” to her friend, but she was staring straight at the bottom of her glass in misery. 

the tears started flowing before she could help it, but she was entirely silent. she missed the time when things weren’t this messy. she missed feeling strong and most of all, happy. 

and she also missed him, terribly so. and this time, she couldn’t help but stare straight at the obvious: she missed him more and more, every day.

she also missed the person that she was when they were together and was starting to wonder if she needed him to get her back. 

/ / /

monday, 9:02 am. 

harry had not seen y/n since their fight and he had honestly almost gotten used to her absence. it didn’t feel good to not have her around, but it didn’t drive him to a near overdose anymore. 

where once used to be a feeling of existential dread and depression, now lives an ongoing flow of anxiety and panic. because he has to face her, today. for the sake of his friends. at least that’s what he tells himself.

a sudden sickness overcomes him for the umpteenth time within the last few days which makes him stop mid-run.  

in through the nose. hold your breath. one. two. three. release through the mouth. repeat. 

just like she had taught him. 

god fucking dammit. 

harry was now aggravated, more than anything. but he knew, no matter how negative his emotions were today, he had to go through with it. for mitch and sarah. and himself. 

he arrived back home and took an icy shower. he thought it might help him be less of a wuss and prepare for the task at hand. but alas, his balls were still buried somewhere deep within him. so, time passes. 

11 am.

12 pm. 

1 pm.

2 pm. 

3 pm. 

4 pm. 

by the time 5 pm rolled around, he had to chuckle bitterly. any other person would’ve been on their way home by now. but his lovely y/n was probably still buried knee-deep in any kind of work that was given to her. it pained him to think about her in stress and exhaustion. it pained him even more that she probably didn’t even realise how she was working herself to death.

he fondly remembers the time when she was the epitome of a free spirit; when nothing could worry her and life was a gift that she happily embraced with open arms. now, it seemed, she was trapped in a vicious cycle of self-destruction. it felt like the walls around her were at an all-time high. harry didn’t know if he could be the one to save her, if that was even within the realm of what she could possibly want. and honestly, for now, that didn’t even matter. they had a wedding to attend. everything else could be resolved afterwards. 

as soon as that very thought came to him, harry wanted to punch himself in the face for how utterly stupid and selfish he sounded. well, if he’s lucky, y/n will do that job for him. at least then he could feel her touch again.

6 pm. 

enough is enough.

harry fought the urge to throw up once more before he left the house. he decided to purposefully ignore the mind-numbing screams inside of his brain telling him to not leave the house ever again; to stay in his bed until he starved, shrivelled up and died without anybody ever having to look at his miserable figure again. the anxiety that has been constantly bubbling at the back of his throat like a jacuzzi in the french alps told him to never speak to y/n again. that they hurt each other and that he was in no way capable of fixing anything. as a matter of fact, he was certainly only going to make it worse. nevertheless, he pushed through, he had to. for mitch and sarah, or whatever. 

he arrived at her office building at 6:23 pm. before he could think too much about it, he left his car, headed towards the building, greeted the intern at the front desk, got into the elevator and pressed number seven in it to get to y/n. easy enough, so far. 

or so he thought.

when the elevator dinged to signal his arrival on the 7th floor, the sliding doors opened to reveal maude, y/n’s sweet coworker, who was probably leaving for the day. she saw him and harry wished he had just waited in the car for two more minutes. 

“harry! sweet boy, how are you? it’s been ages! give me a hug you handsome thing!”

while harry’s neck was dragged down by maude’s short arms, panic rose in his gut as he became painfully aware of how y/n must’ve been alerted of his presence with how loud maude had just greeted him. matter of fact, the whole office must be aware now. 

“hi maude, good to see you. I’m actually looking for y/n, is she still at her desk?”

unbeknownst to him, y/n was definitely aware of his presence. just like he had suspected, she was made aware by maude’s overly excited greeting. the second she figured he was here she wanted to hide, run, possibly jump out of the window. she wanted to do whatever she could to not face him. not right now, not ever. she wasn’t ready. so, while maude kindly offered to walk harry to y/n’s desk and bombard him with small talk in the meantime, she took the initiative and ran, as unsuspecting as possible, to the bathroom to at least try and get some proper air in her lungs. hopefully, no one saw the sheer panic in her expression.

harry and maude came to y/n’s desk to find it empty. 

“oh, this is weird. I swear she was here just a moment ago.” maude said, looking around the room in a confused manner. harry had an inkling that his earlier suspicions were indeed correct. she knew he was here.

“I’m sure she just went to the bathroom, maude. I can wait here, thank you.”

before harry could interject, maude offered to wait with him. “I don’t always get the chance to have you all to myself, harry! need to use it, don’t I?” 

they both laughed at her attempted, slightly inappropriate joke. harry shrugged it off and blamed it on the fact that the woman is the same age as some of her aunts or her mother, even. lord knows, maybe she genuinely enjoyed his presence. 

while they continued their chitchat, y/n had yet to properly calm down. what was she going to do? does she face him? could she? was there an alternative? not really, she thought. she had to come out before it raised any suspicion. not that people cared, really. she just didn’t want to make a fuss. however, the thought of facing him right now made her want to rip her nails out, one by one.

her frantic back and forth through the office bathroom came to a halt when someone else came in. she tried to smooth over her anxiety by pretending to have just left a stall and make her way to the sinks in a calm and collected fashion, though, anybody could probably smell her nerves from miles and miles away. she washes her hands, rapidly, and takes a good look at herself afterwards. her hair was in place, her suit somewhat clean and her makeup looked good enough. to strangers and coworkers, she probably looked fine. she knew, however, that harry would probably see the pain in her. she wonders what would cross his mind when he lays his eyes on her. then she thinks again, a sudden rage aflame within her. she shouldn’t care what he thinks. after all, the bastard kicked her out! the newfound emotion was enough to carry her feet from her current position to her desk. purposeful strides, stiff back and high nose.

here goes nothing.

when she gets back to her desk, she finds maude telling harry some story about a comically large fruit she saw at the farmers market. harry seemed to listen to every word until he found y/n to be standing in front of them. they looked at each other for the first time since their fight but had no time to dwell on any emotions as maude filled the silence instantaneously. 

“there you are! your lovely beau is here to pick you up, lucky girl! do you know where you’ll be having dinner tonight? oh, there is this wonderful italian place that I went to recently, let me give you the address!”

maude rummaged through her handbag to retrieve her phone and look up said address, which gave harry and y/n enough time to exchange glances. harry knew that she did not want to involve her coworkers in her personal life, which meant that as of right now, she was probably going to lie. 

“yeah, I’m one lucky girl, huh? don’t worry about the address, though. I’m sure harry’s made reservations somewhere. thank you, though!”

he did know her too well. 

the smile and tone she put on were enough to fool the average person, so it was good enough for now. and honestly, he was glad she took the initiative, as he truly did not feel like having lovely maude know anything about them on a personal level. so, he played along.

“yes, I think we’re all set. we’ve been wanting to go there for a while, anyways. thank you so much, still!”

maude stopped looking for a phone and looked up at the supposed couple. “alright if you say so! I’ll just give y/n the address tomorrow so you lot can go there some other time. anyways, I’ll leave you two to it! have fun!” 

she bid her goodbye and walked towards the elevators once more. one last time she turns around with a devilish smile on her face as she practically shouts through the entire office: “also, I want to hear wedding bells for you two, soon! chop, chop!” 

she laughed as the pair went pale in the face and happily went on her merry way home. what she didn’t know was that the suggestion currently made both of them nauseous for a multitude of reasons that they, however, could not dwell on for too long. once maude left the building, the two of them forcefully faced each other.

y/n tried to look strong and determined. whatever happened, she wanted to stand her ground. harry had a goal that he was going to reach no matter what. 

“how are you?” he tried to ask carefully, but y/n wanted none of it.

“what are you doing here?” she asked, bitterness seething from her tone. 

harry knew the fight was pointless and wanted to get straight to his point. 

“look, I need to talk to you about something. it’s really important.” 

y/n first looked at him and then around to figure out her next move. a sudden need for fresh air made her speak up. 

“let’s go to the roof.”

/ / /

harry’s heart was practically beating in his throat. her presence made him utterly nervous and the stakes were really high, unfortunately. the quiet journey to their current location at the rooftop terrace of her office was tense enough, and he just hoped their conversation would be a little less so. he looked at a questioning y/n who had her arms crossed over her chest with her bum leaning on the railing. she looked unamused, so he had no time to waste.

“the wedding. mitch and sarah’s. it’s on friday.”

a sudden glimmer of surprise washed over her features. much to harry’s surprise, she had forgotten. in an instant, her face found purchase in her hands, a languid sigh leaving her mouth.

“fuck, I completely forgot. and the rehearsal dinner is-“

“tomorrow, yeah.” harry finished. 

“god, that’s why sarah called me. I thought it had something to do with you! I was supposed to get some things sorted out for-“

“I took care of it.” harry, once again, finished her sentence and chose to ignore the bad aftertaste of her statement.

her rushed rambling came to a halt and y/n gave harry a puzzled look. before she could ask, he explained himself.

“I figured that you might have some other shit to deal with, so I took care of it. you also took tomorrow off months ago, so don’t worry about it.”

she let his words linger. for some reason, she was more confused than before.

“uh, okay. thank you. why are you here then? you came all this way just to remind me?”

“well, no.” 

harry paused briefly, a sudden wave of anxiety hitting him. maybe this was too ridiculous but there was no going back now. he looked up and spoke.

“look… I know that things aren’t good between us at the moment, hell, I don’t even really know if an “us” exists right now. and I also know I’m not in the position to ask for any favours because-“

“-you kicked me out, correct.” 

once again, a defining silence hung in the air.

y/n looked at harry in way that somehow combined hurt, anger, disgust and maybe a tiny bit of longing, or so harry imagined. his own shame that is attached to the situation by thick, heavy chains pulled him down into a very specific sort of depression once more, almost knocking the air out of his lungs. he tries to move on, desperately.

“look, y/n-“

“say it. say that you kicked me out. then we can continue this conversation. say it first.” she demanded.

harry swallowed hard, the weight of y/n’s demand heavy in his heart. he understood that she needed him to acknowledge his actions, his mistake before he could ask anything of her. but even now, amidst all of the shame he felt, he was still hurt, himself. he was hurt by the fact that the woman he considered to be his forever didn’t trust him. he was hurt because she lied. he was hurt because she wouldn’t let him help her. he was hurt because apparently he was just another man to him, after everything. it made sense with her past, but the naive part in him thought they moved past it. alas, it seems like they haven’t. so, he says what she wants to hear. he closed his eyes for a brief moment, gathering his thoughts, and tried to summon the strength to confront the truth.

“yes, y/n. things went even more to shit between us after I kicked you out. after we fought because you lied to me and because we haven’t properly spoken in weeks. after I freaked out and did something that I will probably spend the rest of my life apologising to you for because it was an idiotic thing to do and truly, I am sorry. unbelievably so.”

y/n understood that she wasn’t the only one who was hurting. she was painfully aware of the fact that she had previously done some things to bring him to that point of mental and emotional torment. she knew that he wouldn't just treat her like that out of the blue or without reason, but even with all of that knowledge in her mind, it didn't make the situation any less painful. she looked at him with a look that could only be described as purely and utterly defeated. she thought about arguing with him, right then in there. she wanted to scream at him, to slap him right across his cheek and tell him to go to hell and to never speak to her again. but alas, she refrained from doing so. instead, she sighed, deeply, wiped away the flyaways that were stuck to her forehead and looked at him one more time.

“right. what is it that you wanted to talk about, harry? I really don’t have time for this.”

harry chose to ignore how her complete ignorance for his apology or her statement of utter disinterest stung him deep in his chest and continued.

“what I was going to say is that I know that I am in no position to ask her any favours because of-“ he paused and closed his eyes: “because of what happened. but I need us to ignore our personal drama for their sake. just for the rehearsal dinner and the wedding, that’s all.” 

y/n’s brows scrunched up in confusion. “what do you mean?”

harry felt more and more stupid as the conversation went on.

“look, they're some of my closest friends and they’ve been waiting for this wedding for too long. I know that sarah always acts like she’s whatever about anything and that mitch pretends he’s too cool to actually want a nice wedding, but I know that they both secretly deeply care about it, and I don't want to be the person to spoil it all. I don't want to be the person who draws the attention onto himself. I don't want our personal lives taking any attention away from them and potentially ruin it all for them, I could never live with myself if I or we did that to them. so, I guess what I'm trying to ask you is: do you think there is a possibility that we could press pause on this whole thing? the fight, I mean. I'm not saying that we need to do it for the entire week, only for the rehearsal dinner and for the wedding. let’s just try to be normal and grit our teeth the entire way through, if we have to. I’m only asking because I know that sarah would do everything in her power to figure out what was wrong, even if she was in the middle of that fucking dance floor and is supposed to be having the night or for life. I know that they will probably pull us aside and ask us a million questions because they've done it before, but I cannot do that to them. not on their wedding day. not when we should be giving them all of our attention. we might’ve spoiled this for us but I cannot and will not do even the slightest bit to spoil it for them.”

harry paused his rant to look at y/n, almost entirely sure to get rejected. however, he’s surprised to find her deep in thought. almost as if she was actually considering it.

“so, what do you say?” 

y/n knew how ridiculous this entire thing would probably end up being. she knew that if she even had to pretend for a second to hold his hand, or to laugh at his jokes, to dance with him or - god forbid - kiss him, she would end up either crying in pure agony, throw up in a random corner, or actually go clinically insane. but, despite it all, she understood where he was coming from and she was well aware that his request was rooted in place of sincerity. hell, the selfish part in her was even excited because this way she’d have two more days with him. two more days of pretending like everything was fine and nothing was bothering them. because realistically, it would all be over afterwards, anyway. so, she did the unthinkable-

“okay, I’m in.”

harry stared in disbelief. “really? you’re absolutely sure?” 

without missing a beat, she nodded. “I mean, you do have a point. I wouldn't want to spoil their wedding plans either. I'll try my best to suck it up for two days and we'll see where we’ll go from there, deal?” 

she stretched her hand out for him to shake. he looked at it hesitantly and decided that now was the best time to ask for the other pressing request on his mind. so, before shaking her hand, he continued.

“there is one more thing, y/n…” 

she pulled her hand back and nodded for him to go on.

“listen, you can absolutely say no to this, but I just wanted to put it on the table in case you were interested. I- I don’t even know where you’re staying right now. are you at jane’s?” 

she nodded once more, annoyed at how well he could calculate her moves.

“right. so, you know that our home-“

“your place.” she deadpanned. “I really don’t think I can refer to that place as ‘home’ right now, but go on.” 

once again her words stung but he tried his best to understand.

“right, uh, my place. you know it’s about two hours from the venue and getting there from jane’s apartment would make the journey almost 40 minutes longer. also, all your stuff is still at my place and I might need some help carrying all the things that sarah asked me to collect. also, we were supposed to help with the setup-“

“are you asking me to stay over?”

truthfully, he was asking her to come back, but he knew that it wasn’t going to be this easy. maybe, at this point, it was entirely impossible. but he tried his best, anyway.” 

“I’m just saying it would make everything run a bit more smoothly tomorrow. like I said, you can say no. I’ll just come and pick you up from jane’s or we can meet up at mine beforehand… whatever works for you.” 

once again, y/n’s selfish side overtook her mind. she suddenly became hyperaware of the fact that she could possibly share a bed with him tonight, have him wrap his strong arms around her sleeping figure and feel peaceful for the first time in what feels like forever. in another reality he might even fuck her senseless, and she wouldn’t even have to fake her orgasm. in another reality she wasn’t constantly stressed because of work and wasn’t constantly anxious because everything was falling apart around her. in another world it was just harry and her spending the night together in their shared home, doing all the things that couples do, before they help their friends with their rehearsal dinner. harry would never have to lock himself up in his studio for hours on end to finish a song or be on tour for months and months on end, and y/n wouldn’t have to stare at a screen until her eyes were dry and work on reports and samples until the early hours of the morning. it would just be them, together, and it would be blissful.

she knew that none of those things were actually going to happen, but the sheer possibility was enough for her to agree to his proposal.

“you’re right, it’ll be easier this way. let’s do it. I’ll just have to pick up my stuff from jane’s but I’ll head to yours after.”

harry didn’t want to show it but he was filled to the brim with hope. maybe they could resolve things after all. 

“well then, we have a deal, y/n.”

this time, he was the one stretching out his hand for her to shake. she looked at it momentarily before meeting him in the middle and intertwining her hand with his. and then, they just stood there. hands interlocked and gazes on one another. time stops for a moment, both of them focusing on the feeling of touching each other again. neither of them really wanted to let go but eventually, they had to. y/n was the first one going for release but before she could let go, harry squeezed her hand tighter. he spoke before she could interject. 

“for what it’s worth, y/n, I’m willing to fight for this. until the very end. I don’t care how corny I sound, either. I mean it and I want you to know.” he said, pure and raw honesty dripping from his voice like honey. 

she couldn’t say anything, she couldn’t even look at him. all she could do was to let go of his hand and shift her gaze towards the sky. it was way too beautiful outside for her insides to feel as stormy as they did. 

“you should go, I’ll meet you at yours later.” 

her response left harry feeling cold all over. it was okay, though. he just hoped that they could be better, one day.

“right, then. see you tonight.”

/ / /

shortly after harry had left, she decided that her work day was over, as well. it was getting close to 7 pm and she’d finished her work so she wanted to leave as fast as she could. everyone else was already gone, anyway. so, she collected her belongings and made her way to her boss’s office to officially sign out for the day.

she knocked softly and was met with a cold “yes?”

y/n opened the door to find her boss, cynthia, at her desk with a coffee in one hand and future designs in the other. as always, the woman looked uninterested, bored and arrogant. a true the devil wears prada type of villain. y/n walked into her office, set any and all reports down on to her desk and tried to make her way out again when cynthia called for her, again. 

“where do you think you're going?”

y/n turned around, dreading what was coming next. 

“excuse me?”

“you need to look over maude’s mood boards. they’re sloppy and entirely useless. I need them done by tonight.”

y/n had no energy left. usually that meant that she would wordlessly do the overtime. right now, however, she wished for nothing more than to be asleep next to harry with his scent surrounding her and his warmth embracing her. so, she did something that she hadn’t done before.

“I won’t be able to do that, cynthia. please, ask maude to rework them. I have tomorrow off and need to be up early and-“

“I didn't ask for your entire life story y/n. I just need you to redo maude’s work, that is all.”

it was as if she couldn’t possibly fathom that y/n had denied her request. so, she went again.

“cynthia, I'm going to go home now. I honestly don't care who finishes that work for you but it won't be me. have a good night.”

adrenaline rushed through her veins as she made her way to the door. unfortunately, before she could leave, cynthia made sure to leave a mark.

“you know I gave you that promotion because I thought you were capable of handling it, right? not because I thought that you were going to end up being lazy once you have it. I can take it away from you just as fast as I gave it to you. I want you to know that before you decide to go home now and enjoy your day off tomorrow. we'll see how long you stay at this company with this kind of attitude.”

y/n turned around, red in the face with rage. “you can call me a lot of things cynthia. you can call me an overachiever or you can call me a pushover or a perfectionist or a crippling workaholic; all those things are true. I know one thing though, I am not lazy. since the day I started working here I have worked my ass off to prove myself. I don’t need your excuse for recognition, but I demand some fucking respect.”

cynthia and y/n looked at each other like gladiators would look at one another in the colosseum, fighting for their lives.

“y/n, if you seriously expect me to kiss your forehead and give you a gold star for doing the work I expect you to get done here, then you have chosen the wrong company to work for. I would suggest you start to toughen up a little and look alive if you see yourself having a career in this industry. no go, do whatever you need to do. I’ll get someone else to do the work that you were too incapable to do.”

y/n wanted to pour that piping hot coffee over her head and watch her scream. she didn’t, though. instead, she was left to think about a moment that harry and her shared about a year ago; a fond memory. 

“dude, I swear to god, she just fired the girl out of nowhere just because she couldn't get her the damn bag from the other city of the city in like 10 minutes which is, oh I don’t know, physically impossible!? and before she fired her she basically verbally abused her in front of the entire team, and I just had to stand there and say nothing! what kind of a person does this kind of thing? like, is she crazy? is she actually the devil?” 

y/n shoved another spoonful of pasta into her mouth while harry gave her an amused look. he tried desperately not to laugh, but the rosy tint on her cheeks that she got out of sheer frustration was nothing short of adorable. luckily, y/n started chuckling pretty quickly herself. 

“and then, oh my god, and then the girl just started crying and we all thought she would be a puddle on the floor, but no! she starts throwing shit on the floor and literally called cynthia a ‘raging fucking nitwit of a cunt that deserved to rot the deepest pits of hell’ and suddenly the entire office was involved!” - another laugh - “soon enough, security comes barging in and literally carry the girl out while she’s flailing in steve’s arms like a hyperactive, very angry puppy, and god, harry, I felt so bad! but it was so funny! not the fact that she was getting fired, god, no! but the way she handled it was so iconic! I wanted to kiss the ground she walked on!”

by the end of y/n’s story, both her and harry were laughing until their tummies hurt. harry continued to listen to her crazy work stories during dinner, after dinner when he washed the dishes, on the couch with her laying on his chest and him playing with her hair, and ideally, for the rest of his damn life.

the memory made y/n giggle. 

“something funny, dear? do you need a cordial invitation to get out of my office?”

y/n just smiled. 

“good night, cynthia.”

with that, she was on her merry way. 

///

“and you’re absolutely sure that this is a good idea?” 

jane stood before her in her doorway. y/n had told her everything as soon as she got home and they ended up talking for hours. 

“honestly, no. but I have a gut feeling that this might be the right thing to do.”

concern is etched deeply into jane’s face. a heavy sigh and a shake of her head later, she replied.

“look, just be careful. and no matter what, you can always come back. you have a key and my bed always has an open space for you. no shame.”

y/n felt so much love for her concerned friend in that moment that she stopped the act of tying her shoes to give her a tight hug. “I know.” she mumbled into her shoulder. “thank you.” 

they detangle and y/n grabs her duffle off the floor. one last knowing look is exchanged before y/n takes the first stride towards her car. jane waves her goodbye. when she sees y/n leaving her driveway she grabs her phone in an instant to send a text to the one and only. two words, and nothing but sincerity behind them.

“good luck.”

/ / /

6.3k, not entirely proofread, lowercase intended

after a billion million years, here's part four. i know it's a bit of a filler but I have some nice stuff planned for the remainder of this story, so please bear with me.

thank you and all the love <3

-ve !!