#like a falling out but i assumed people would be upset and distance themselves from me if i unfollowed no matter what i say about it)

[worldofgoo]

i guess i also stopped participating in the mutuals thing years ago (though obviously i do value any connections i still have thru tumblr) because of the stress of trying to get the approval of strangers / communicate an identity through blogging but i guess mostly because i dont have the time to keep up with so many people... so now i feel kind of selfish but i guess its not the end of the world

[hannahbarberra162]

Snow Fall, Part 2 (Alpha!Izou x Omega!Reader)

18+ MDNI | on Ao3

The first chapter

***SPOILERS FOR WANO***

Thanks for being patient, I got kinda stuck but I'm back into the groove of this fic. Thank you to @gouraminnow for beta-ing this <3

“ Commander Izou, my h-home is to the right,” you stated with uncertainty as Izou carried you in his arms to your residence. You were wearing flimsy cloth shoes that were unsuitable for the winter climate on the island. By the rips on the sides and wear on the soles, you’d been wearing them a long time. Izou had determined he needed to carry you to the next destination to avoid having you freeze to death. Yet another reason Izou wasn’t upset by the destruction his brothers were wreaking on your employer. 

Izou also told you to pack up whatever you needed and that you'd be coming with him to the ship. He told you that he was taking you away from your adopted family and you hadn’t protested. You weren’t looking at him directly as he’d informed you but staring off into the distance. You’d protested initially but he had left no room for argument. He could scent your fear and felt your trembling fingers wrapping themselves around his neck as he carried you through the snowy town. He’d have more time to explain later that you’d be safe, that nothing bad was going to happen to you ever again. But for now he wanted to put as much space as he could between you and the horrible people to dare call themselves your family. 

“B-but Commander, you don’t need to hold me, I can -” you’d been trying to get him to put you down since he’d first swept you off your feet; he'd plucked you off the ground you’d even made contact with the snowy sidewalk.

“Carrying you pleases me,” Izou said simply. Given your reserved nature as well as the strict social hierarchy you were raised with, he knew you’d defer to him.  It was a dance he hadn’t done in a long time, playing along with the social cues and mores of Wanese culture but in this case it worked to his advantage. If he tried to explain that you were under dressed for the weather or that he felt the need to feel your meager weight in his arms, you’d protest further to prevent inconveniencing him. Truthfully, it did please him to carry you, to have your scent so close to his own, to feel the reassurance of you in his arms. He’d carry you forever if you let him. 

“Ah, this is it,” you indicated, pointing to a large, solid brick house with smoke coming out the chimney. At least they’d given you a proper place to live, he thought to himself. As Izou stepped on the cleared path to the house, you shook your head. 

“N-no, sorry. The house behind this one,” you said quietly, pointing to a shack set back in the snowy woods.

Of course.

Izou noted the rickety shack and the rags covering the windows - either to keep in heat or to keep prying eyes out. Swiftly walking towards the hut, he opened the door and set you down inside.

“Gather your things,” Izou said softly, putting his hand on the small of your back to encourage you. The inside of the single room hut was as dismal as Izou imagined it would be. There were gaps in the thin wood walls, letting in the harsh winter air. Your tiny bed was crammed into the corner, leaving enough room for a table and a broken chair. There was a small chest, he assumed for your clothes and other necessities. There was a tiny stove, barely large enough to boil a kettle of water. Your home, if it could be called that, was tidy and clean. You'd tried to brighten the space with pictures and dried flowers but it hadn't helped the dismal feeling inside the shack.

“I apologize for the state of my house, Commander. If I had known someone like you would be joining -” you were already bowing to him again, your hands stiff at your side balled into fists. Izou bent down to put his hands on your shoulders and righted you to an upright position.

“Do not apologize. Collect your things,” Izou ordered in a gentle tone. You frowned but nodded and walked over to the small bookshelf on the wall. You grabbed an old, battered tome, wrapping it like you were swaddling a baby in one of the few blankets on your bed. Holding it to your chest, you put it in a basket and saw Izou watching you.

“Ah, the cookbook my father gave me before I left Wano,” you said in answer to Izou’s unasked question. You’d mentioned leaving Wano a few times but Izou hadn’t heard of many people leaving the country in recent years. He’d have to get the full story out of you on the Moby. Moving towards you, he noted a picture of himself tacked onto the wall.  It was from his most recent Wanted Poster (an attractive photo, if he did say so himself). You had cut off the bottom portion with his bounty and wanted status so it looked more like a photograph of a friend - or lover. You followed Izou’s eyes towards the picture and hung your head.

“This is embarrassing. Please do not take offense, Commander,” you begged while looking down at your feet. Izou laughed softly into the sleeve of his winter yukata. 

“What man would take offense at a beautiful woman having his picture on the wall? Please, continue to gather your things. I would like to take you away from here. This building offends me,” Izou said. You were spurred into action from his words. You gathered a few clothing items and a lacquer hair comb, likely also from Wano based on the style. 

“I am finished, Commander. I await your next instruction,” you replied seriously, like you were one of the men under his command. He’d have to get you to relax eventually, to accept help and seek it out from him. The Alpha in him wanted to grab you and take you back to his rooms, to show you he could protect you. But Izou knew you were traumatized and nervous, unsure what to do with yourself while you navigated the relationship between them. He’d give you the time and space you needed to recover before making any large moves. Well, larger than taking you to the Moby Dick and away from the island you called home.

“That is all? Do you have more winter clothes? You are not returning to this residence,” Izou stated, nearing you once more. You shook your head and took a step back, making him scowl at your learned muscle memory. Maybe he should return to the shop and teach your family some lessons in proper manners towards women.

“You will come to no harm under my hand, either from myself or any other,” Izou said softly, cornering you against the wall. You cowered away from him, increasing his anger towards those who had harmed you. Without warning he picked you up again, making you squeak in surprise. The scent of fear was strong in the air, souring your perfect snowy smell. Izou detected the scent of his own anger joining your fear, a potent but unpleasant combination.

“I apolog -”

“Do not apologize to me. None of this is your fault,” Izou said, cutting you off. He wished he had met you in Wano, perhaps before you’d become so averse to any kind of conflict.

“Where are you taking me, Commander -”

“ Izou. Just Izou,” he corrected. If he was going to be your Alpha, you needed to get used to calling him by his first name without any honorifics. He didn’t want to force you to be his mate but he was going to do everything in his power to make it so.

“I-izou, where are we going? To another island? Are you taking me back to Wano?” you asked, your hands kneading together as your legs dangled over his arm. Izou frowned at your question. You were agreeable to leaving the island to get away from the people who had been abusing you but he wasn’t so sure how happy you’d be sailing the seas with pirates, especially ones as notorious as the Whitebeard Pirates.

“Would you like to go back to Wano?” Izou couldn’t take you but Kiku was likely still there. Perhaps he could find a way…you paused, considering his question in silence before speaking in a tone so soft he almost couldn’t hear.

“No, there’s nothing for me there. I - my - there’s no one there I don't think,” you said softly. You didn’t say anything further and neither did he as he felt your warm breath on his neck. Afterwards the only sound was Izou’s boots crunching on the icy path as he continued to walk towards the ship. He didn’t want to pry, it was your story to tell, but he was burning to hear how you’d escaped Wano. 

“You’ll come with me on the Moby Dick, Whitebeard’s ship. We will figure out next steps from there,” Izou stated less as a suggestion and more a demand. You looked up at him through your lashes and gave a short nod of your head. That was all it took for Izou to leave the hovel you’d been calling home, reminding himself to have Ace torch the family home later.

“Should I - is my debt transferring to you?” you asked, your hands gripping his clothes as he walked through the wintry terrain. The closer you were to him, the sharper your snowy scent in his nose. He pulled you closer to his chest to smell you further but resisted from burying his head in your uncovered neck. 

“Yes, you’ve mentioned this debt. To what does it refer? Your…adopted family mentioned it briefly,” Izou asked, as if he was completely unconcerned. 

“Ah, it’s kind of a long story,” you hedged nervously, avoiding his gaze. Izou smelled smoke coming from the other side of the island.

“Is there anyone you’d like to say goodbye to -” Izou began to say before you interrupted him for the first time. He assumed you didn’t want to see your abusers again but perhaps there was someone on the island who had shown you kindness.

“No,” you replied without hesitation. Good, they could wreck and raid the island. Made things easier for Ace to remember. With Ace on his mind, Izou smelled smoke and saw the plume rising from town so Izou decided to take the path away from the center of town on his way to the Marina. He didn’t think it would bother you to see the bakery burning to the ground but he didn’t want to distress you any further. To distract you from the destruction he tried a new avenue of conversation.

“And you are Tasuke, yes? Or is there another name you’d prefer to be called? ’ he continued. He wanted to make sure you felt as comfortable as possible with him. He had heard of other Wanese people taking more “common” names after they defected because their given names were difficult for most people to pronounce.

“Oh, Tasuke isn’t actually my name. It kind of ties into how I came here. About ten years ago, Father - ah, my adopted father - came with the Marines to Wano to trade resources with Kaido -”

“How? The borders are closed and Wano isn’t under the jurisdiction of the World Government, Marines can’t trade there,” Izou asked quietly. He didn’t want to interrupt the flow of your story but he hadn’t heard of Marines on Wano. Not that he’d heard anything out of Wano in 20 years but it was interesting information to know.

“ Ah, my parents owned property along the seashore. Seastone was discovered along the cliffs of their property and Marines paid Kaido for the rights to mine it out,” you explained. Ah, that was the connection. Seastone was known to only come from Wano and given that it was being used by Marines across the Grand Line it made sense they were trading with Kaido. Izou idly wondered how much money Kaido had amassed from seastone mining.

“They spent their life savings to bribe a Captain - Father - to smuggle me out of Wano. I was much younger at the time but still hadn’t presented as anything. Well, I was supposed to be an Omega but my scent never developed. They thought I would have a better life outside of the country, or maybe could find a doctor to tell me what’s wrong with me,” you continued. Izou wasn’t going to interrupt your story again but he wanted to tell you that there wasn’t anything wrong with you, that you were the most perfect Omega he’d ever met. 

“The Captain brought me out of Wano and brought me here, saying that the amount of danger he had risked increased the cost of my trip. He said that the amount of money my parents paid was not sufficient and that I would need to work for him to pay off my debt. So I cleaned his house, tended to his bakery, cooked for his family, did the family’s laundry, anything they needed. He said that my wages were going towards my debt but the amount I owed only ever seemed to increase. They would charge me for anything that I needed, any time I took off for being sick, any food I consumed, anything,” you continued. No wonder you were wearing shoddy clothing, Izou thought, you were paying for it in sweat and blood.

 “So after a few years on the island, I realized Father had no intention of letting me go. And Wido, my brother…well, you saw. He’s always like that - or, um, worse. I kept asking for people to help me - tasukete. I wanted to, ah, leave those people, maybe escape the island and go back to Wano. I didn’t have any concrete plans, I just wanted to leave here,” you said, rubbing your arms where the bruises lingered. Izou fought the urge to scowl at the memory of Wido harming you but settled on holding you tighter in his arms. You needed comfort from him, not aggression. He wanted to show you that he wasn’t a mindless alpha like some, ready to tear off your clothes and sink into you. He wanted you to see that he would wait until you were ready.

“After a while everyone assumed Tasuke was my name and that’s what they called me. I don’t mind anymore,” you said with a small smile as your story concluded. Izou reflected your own mannerism back to you though he felt like murdering everyone on this godforsaken island and leaving nothing standing. Unfortunately he’d have to trust in his brothers to wreak havoc on the island and not partake in this particular adventure.

“ And your parents?” Izou prompted. 

“I haven’t heard anything from them in ten years so I don't know anything for certain. Father’s missions changed and he stopped going to Wano shortly after I came to the island. I can only hope they are alive and well, though they were quite elderly when I left,” you said wistfully, staring at the water he was now approaching by the docks. Izou knew that longing, twisting, yearning. He felt the same for his own sister who he hadn’t been in communication with for decades, since he'd left with Oden. He had written hundreds of letters and saved them all with the intention of somehow getting them to her eventually. His brothers, though sympathetic, didn’t understand what it was like to be completely and irrevocably cut off from home. He wanted to continue the conversation but was now at the dinghy that would take you to the massive ship moored father into the icy ocean.

“Hey! What gives?!” Thatch complained from inside the boat. There was some soot on his winter coat and gloves but Izou didn’t mention it.

“What do you mean?” Izou replied coolly, still cradling you in his arms.

“You’ve never carried me before. Not even when I broke my leg! You made me walk to the beach and Marco had to come get me!” Thatch huffed. 

“.....and?” 

“AND you’ve been carrying her this whole way! S’not fair,” Thatch pouted, crossing his arms like a petulant child. Thatch broke into a soft smile when he saw the confusion on your face, looking between them rapidly while trying to determine if there was true anger between him and Thatch. Izou guessed you spent the last decade walking on eggshells, attempting to maintain peace between your “family” members and avoid being beaten as a consequence.

“S’alright. Come on, let’s head back before we’re barbecued,” Thatch said, grabbing the oars to the boat. Izou stepped into the dinghy, still holding you and your meager belongings. He settled you into his lap as Thatch shot him a dirty look you couldn’t see and began rowing the three of you back to the Moby. Izou rolled his eyes and pursed his lips, his brothers liked to claim he was dramatic but really, Thatch was the biggest drama queen on the ship. You were busy burying your head and hands into Izou’s chest to avoid the freezing winter winds blowing off the seas. Thatch eyed you sympathetically and grabbed the warm winter hat off his own head.

“Ask her if she wants it,” Thatch suggested, holding the gaudy orange hat outstretched in his hand. Izou didn't wear winter hats, they mussed his hair and he didn't often feel cold. But now he wished he did so he could give you his own.

“My brother Thatch is offering you his hat to keep you warm. You may remember him from the bakery. Would you like it?” Izou asked you softly, patting your hair while he spoke. You picked your head up and looked at it longingly.

“How much does it cost? If I just wear it once?” you asked, biting your lip. 

“Nothing. Your debt has been paid off. For good,” Izou said, his voice a little tighter than he intended. Your eyes flicked to his, trying to read his face to determine if he was lying or not. Izou kept his face impassive to let you make your own choices. You turned to face Thatch in the boat and did a bow as large as your limited positioning allowed.

“Thank you,” you said simply, reaching for the hat with shaking fingers. You sniffed the hat as politely as you could and must have found it not repulsive because you put it on your head. Izou was pleased you were warm but was a little annoyed you weren’t wearing anything with his scent on it. He would make some Wanese winter clothes for you like he did for himself once you settled in on the ship. Izou decided to give you some general ideas of who the siblings you had met were.

“Thatch is in charge of the Culinary Division of the crew, Ace - the dark haired young man who ate the most in the bakery - is in charge of Navigation. Marco - the tall blond - is the doctor of the ship and in charge of the Medical Division,” Izou explained. Thatch waved when he heard his name, he probably assumed that Izou was doing introductions. You gave a smile and waved back.

“Nice to meet you,” you said in your beautifully accented voice. Clearly you had learned some Common but your family had likely prevented you from learning enough to make an escape. Language barriers were an easy way to keep you on the island in perpetuity. 

“I would be overjoyed to work in the kitchens if Thatch would have me. I am best at baking but I am also competent at food preparation and stocking, dishes, cleaning, and knowledgeable in cooking most types of standard fare. I would be thrilled to learn anything that is needed to -” Izou took your cold hands in his own, partially to warm them and partially to stop your speech.

“ It would be our pleasure to learn from your expertise in the kitchens. But let me make something clear before we proceed - you do not need to earn your keep. You have no debt to settle and no need to prove your worth. You are free.”

Taglist: @mfreedomstuff @animefreak818

[halloweenbitch2764]

hi! it’s me again haha

i have an angst thing for you 👀

basically billy n stu with a reader who’s aromatic [the aro who can’t fall in love romantically] where they want to reciprocate the two guys feelings but they can’t

i love angst ;-; you can choose whether it’s an angst with comfort or without comfort at the end <33

i greatly appreciate you !

Glad to see you! Hopefully I made this angsty enough for you <3

Billy & Stu with an Aromantic Reader

You had been friends with the boys for a good while, having moved into town at the start of freshman year

Now you were in college

Over time they had *inevitably* grown feelings for you

You didn't notice any attempts at flirting, assuming they were just being your friends

They grew frustrated with your obliviousness

Soon you'd start receiving things like flowers, your favorite candy, stuffed animals, etc.

Classic romance-y shit

That's when it started to feel off

At the same time they became handsy

They never passed any boundaries but suddenly they seemed more touchy

Billy's hand on your waist, Stu's hand on your thigh

You didn't know what to do about it

Being aromantic had ruined friendships in the past when the other party would gain romantic feelings you couldn't return

You didn't want to lose them

You'd move away from their touches and make some excuse as to why you couldn't accept their gifts

You really didn't want to lose their friendship

You hated that you couldn't return it

They were great people (you hadn't known they were Ghostface during highschool)

It always lingered in the back of your mind

You almost felt broken

Why couldn't you feel romantic feelings?

YOU were the reason they'd leave you

It ate away at you and you started to distance from them

They couldn't end the friendship if you just left

You'd avoid where you knew they'd be, taking new routes just to avoid them

You blocked their numbers so they couldn't get ahold of you

It started to consume you

Something was wrong with you. People don't just not feel romantic feelings. Everyone does!

You had suffered with it your whole life

People weren't willing to believe you didn't feel romantic feelings and assumed you were lying to avoid going out with them

They'd get angry and bitter and then leave you

You walked down the hall towards your dorm when you saw them waiting outside your room

Your eyes widened and you turned on your heel to leave

"Hey Y/N!" Billy called

You kept your head down and kept walking at a quicker pace

Stu easily reached you and grabbed your shoulder as Billy soon caught up

"What?!" You asked angrily, tears welling up in your eyes

You weren't angry at them

"What do you mean what? You've been avoiding us like the plague!" Billy sounded irritated and exasperated

Stu looked like the felt the same, though more upset than anything

"Fine. You know what. You're going to leave me anyways. I don't want to date either of you. I can't actually!"

They looked confused at your outburst

"What do you mean, can't?" Stu questioned

"I don't feel romantic feelings. I don't get butterflies or whatever people talk about. I don't get all lovesick and shit. I guess I'm broken or some shit!" A couple tears escaped down your cheeks

Billy and Stu looked at each other

"Why would we leave because of that?"

"Everyone leaves when I don't return their feelings. Every fucking time." You sounded worn down

You were

"Well you're not broken. In fact I remember in highschool I talked to someone who said the same thing. Called themselves aromantic. Apparently it's more common than you think." Stu explained

You were confused

You had never met someone who was like you

You had always been the weird one, the odd one out

"Really?" Your voice sounded desperate with a pinch of hope

He nodded and Billy smiled

"We wouldn't leave you over something like that. You're still our best friend." Billy pulled you into a hug before Stu hugged you as well

You cried, your body not knowing how to react to such acceptance

"Why don't we go get ice cream? The place down the street is awesome from what I've heard." Stu said

So off to get ice cream you all went

[suzyandthefox]

Of Smoke And Shadows: Chapter 1

We start our journey with one sad vampire and an even sadder little borrower.

No beta we die like men

Tag list: Ask to be added.

This story will be posted under #Of Smoke And Shadows

And under #OSAS

Intro post

Detective Lumen.

Snow, This is the first time I have seen snow since I can remember.

There's something about it that reminds me of when I was young and innocent, of days that passed long ago.

It gives me a bittersweet feeling, a certain warmth in my heart. I still miss those days, but it is no use lingering in the past.

I light a cigarette and take a deep breath as I stare into space. Even though the cigarette does nothing, the warmth and the bitter taste give a semblance of life to my cold body.

My brother always complains about how nicotine is deadly and that I'm risking my health, he keeps mentioning how people die because of it. And I always remind him that we aren't people.

Standing in the alleyway, I let myself get lost in my thoughts as I watched everything around me get coated in snow, like a mountain of powdered sugar, or a soft white blanket.

Then, I feel a presence, and I hear a voice, I was not alone.

"M..Mister? Mister?"

I immediately look around me, searching for whoever was around here and just spoke up, until I realize...

It was down... Down... At my foot.

Wait... What?

I squint and rub my eyes, for I could see a little brown blob tugging at my coat.

No, it wasn't a brown blob, it was a little... Person? Girl? A little girl, only about three inches tall!

The poor wee thing was looking at me in both fear and desperation, shivering in the cold, it pained me to see her like this.

She was a creature called a "borrower", a small person that lives in house walls and makes a living out of unwanted, forgotten things, hence the "borrower".

I have never got to see one as close as this, they are usually shy creatures that won't reveal themselves to a human, let alone a monster like me.

I figured that the poor dear was in a dire situation, and she reached out to me to help her.

Alas, I will try my best.

I think of where to take her, of course! Arsen would love to see her, he always wanted to see a borrower from a close distance.

So I reach out to take her into my gloved hand, And no sooner than when she was in my hand that she awoke from whatever daze froze her.

She immediately leaped from my palm and she was free-falling.

"Fuck!" I exclaim as I catch the rather reckless bundle in my hands and quickly tuck her into my shirt pocket, and I'm filled with guilt as I hear her weak, soft voice begging me to let go.

"Shhh, It's okay, it's okay," I whisper to the little one as I pat my pocket, feeling her curling into a small ball.

"Sleep now, I won't hurt you, just going to take you somewhere safe."

A few moments pass, and I only hear her breathing, so I assume that she is asleep.

I take another breath of my cigarette, then I realize that my supervisor will be upset about my slacking, as she only allowed me a five-minute break.

When I walked back to her office, she looked quite upset at me.

"Lumen! You are late! And that cigarette is still burni_"

"Shh_"

She is too loud. I raise my finger over my lips as a gesture for her to be quiet, then I decide to show her what made me late.

As I reach into my pocket, the little blonde woman eyed me with a skeptical look. I take out the borrower, and I carefully laid her in my hand, noticing how serene she was in her sleep.

Now that she is close and still, I take a good look at her.

She is a small girl, with a huge cloud of curly brown hair that falls behind her back and on her shoulders. Her freckles spread all over her face and arms like cinnamon, especially on her plump cheeks and little button nose, I can notice how pallid her face was, how she was covered in dust, perhaps it's a good thing that I found her.

Charlotte stares at me, then at the little girl in my palm, I see a smile forming on her face as she coos softly.

"Aww, Gosh! What a cutie! What a little darling!"

The way she gushed over the borrower was getting on my nerves. Humans tend to overreact to things, and it makes me nervous.

"And what are you doing with her?" She asked.

"I'm taking her to Arsen, He will know_"

"Don't! He will hurt the poor baby! He can't be trusted_"

"I was informing you, not asking for your opinion."

I tell her in a firmer tone. It looks like I went too far, as she was taken aback by that.

Then I see that look in her blue eyes, that dreaded look, and I thought we were getting somewhere.

Guess we were never there, to begin with.

"L..looks like it's the end of your shift! You are dismissed, Lumen."

I heard a soft murmur and felt the subtle movements in my hand.

Right, the borrower.

I slip the small borrower I nearly forgot about back into my pocket, and I turn back to the exit.

I take one last breath from the cigarette I held, then I throw it and crush it under my foot, Charlotte doesn't deserve a clean office.

====

I'm back at my apartment's door, my safe and familiar apartment.

I knock on the door, and the raspy voice of Arsen answers me.

"Who the fuck is it?"

"Who would it be?" I replied.

"I don't know, The fucking police? a fairy who managed to get my name? A loan shark I didn't know I was indebted to? "

"It's the police then."

I say as I put my keys in the lock and turn it.

Arsen is jumpy and anxious, the last thing I want is for him to shoot me, it will be very inconvenient to have a bullet in my head right now.

I look at my brother and I remember why he doesn't go out of the apartment, he was even more inhumane than I am, with skin as dark as night, sunken eyes, sallow cheeks, crooked long ears, and sharp crooked teeth. Arsen is described by some as a "Tall goblin", and with his strange posture and alert looks, he wasn't different from one.

He stood at seven feet tall, although he was always hunched so he always looked a foot shorter, he was wearing a bright white lab coat atop his equally colored suit. The colors contrasted with his skin and matched his eye color.

The place was as organized as always, although Arsen did not believe in a god, there were crosses and other religious symbols everywhere. I always thought this was kind of strange, but Arsen insisted that "spirituality wards off the supernatural, and it does not contradict with science nor what he believes."

"I have something for you," I tell him.

"What is it?"

After washing my hands, I

reach into my pocket to take out the small girl, to which Arsen's eyes widened.

"Put it in this cage! Quickly! And change your clothes and wash your hands! Who knows where you found it and what sort of diseases it carries!"

I nod to him and go to the bathroom to take a quick shower.

It all went down so quickly, one minute I was putting on a shirt and the next I hear Arsen coughing his lungs out.

And as fast as I could, I run to the kitchen and I open a cabinet that I mentally marked, taking out an inhaler.

Helping my brother to sit down, I put the inhaler in his mouth and aided him as he took a puff, then another.

For a few minutes, he was breathing and slowly inhaling, as I tried my best to calm him down.

"It's alright, Arsen, you are still here, nothing happened, you are safe with me."

"I'm here for you, I did not forget."

Over and over, I stayed nearby and spoke as quietly and as gently as I could muster, until Arsen could feel that he can breathe again, there is no wheezing in his voice, and the air was entering his lungs normally.

"I took my medicine, this wasn't meant to happen!" He panicked, shivering like a frail leaf in the winds of October in my arms.

"You did, Arsen, you never forgot" I reassure him.

"Then why did i"_

"The windows are closed, the apartment is clean, I showered and changed my clothing, my shoes are outside the door, you did everything correctly and I did too." I try to reassure him, again.

"I must have forgotten something! You must have done something! It could have been the door or_"

I present him with his own notebook, where his checklist was completed, I also point at the door, which I made sure was closed tightly.

"It doesn't have to be for a reason, You have frail lungs, that isn't your fault."

"Not everything has to be for a reason."

I look at the small girl in the cage, she was watching all of this with wary curiosity.

"What are you going to do about her?" I ask him.

"You do, I must recheck if I missed something."

I nod, and I take the nearest chair, I pull it and sit next to the glass cage, And I see a book that s open wide next to it, Arsen must have been studying her.

I get closer to her and I notice her eyes, she had big, chocolate-brown eyes that were staring up at me in both awe and fear. Humans already tower over her like skyscrapers, I can't imagine how I look to her.

I sigh and lower my voice.

"It's time we have a talk."

[winxanity-ii]

hey! here to say i’m sorry for the hate and vitriol you received from people angry the character wasn’t white? it’s funny because most media and the world is made for them so to get angry at the few things that aren’t? very entitled but also very fitting for white people

okay, i've been waiting for another ask like this to be sent becasue i'm too shaky to go back to the ones i've had sitting in my inbox for weeks😭, this might be a bit long, but bear with me, i can't help but making sure all points are covered.

so please, welcome how one of my character development moments came to be.... (p.s, sorry for the meme reactions they help me cope/try to remember the entire thing in a more humorous light 🫶🏾)

so basically, the entire issue that pushed me to lashout/get defensive/etc, was because i naively assumed that my thought process would be understood by everyone that came across my book, but in truth, it was more of a miscommunication issue that was exasperated by my using of random signifiers/hair types.

the miscommunications was when some assumed that by me giving the Reader has red hair and yellow eyes, i was assigning characteristics/making an OC, when in reality, i just gave Reader the main characteristics makima—the character who the whole personality is based on—had, which is: red/aurburn hair and yellow eyes.

now, this is where everything went down hill...

see, i tried to do this thing where once in a while, the readers skin tone/hair type was mention/hinted in an insignificant way, like saying:

"You pulled your hair into a bun, the soft curls tangling around your fingers in almost playful resistance; with an annoyed huff, you gave up, letting it fall however it wanted to."

or

"He grabbed your hands, captivated by the way they seemed to fit perfectly in his, unable to stop the adoring comparison; they were smaller than his, the warmth of your sun-kissed skin contrasting softly against his paler shade."

at random, like one moment it'll be curls, the next, straight, etc. ya know? but i also was kinda (read: was in fact) practicing my writing skills overall.

i adore reading—it's one main hyperfixation—so i just wanted to create what i've never had. and my writing style allows me to share this with those who've always felt the same, yet never had the guts/confidence to do it themselves...

anyways, getting back on track, combining the two, i had NUMEROUS angry/upset comments on all the platforms i posted it claiming that i was fishing for reads with a 'fake Reader' and how i needed to put blatant disclaimers that this was a Black OC—yes, you read that right ALL: wattpad, ao3, here, and quotev (especially quotev and here👀).

now, i understand the first part about fishing for reads by using an OC—i've had my fair shares of reading and going "WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS SHIT?!" when getting duped by a good ass fic—but what lost me was that there were more anger about it being a 'Black OC' instead of just being an OC at all 💀💀 like WHAT???

i was so confused (and a bit pissed) because there's no way someone the word 'tan' or 'brown' and automatically assume 'black reader' as if other racial minorities doesn't exist.

like, if i really wanted to make a black reader i would have done way more effort to showcase it, not use a flimsy word or two, but let me stop here before i make an entire essay 💀

also, i'd like to give a small apology first on behalf of not communicating better; like stated before, i'm new to the sudden boom off attention and did not know how to properly deal with an huge influx of commentary.

though i knew it shouldn't have bothered me, the more negative ones stuck out more, so i distanced myself from interacting in general so i wouldn't have to see them at all.

i'll still be distant, but i'll do better at showcasing my appreciation in other ways ���️❤️

but yeah, that's what happened, but no worries, i just had to suck it up, take a lil break and get back on my writing shit 😎 bad days don't stop these 'tismic delusions ❤️ see you guys soon...

[madelinerosales]

Chapter 3 - The Clockmaker's Masterpiece

The Mireharts were not cold hearted, and Father Mirehart had never wished for his son to lead an unremarkable life— however, the Mireharts did lack hearts entirely. Father Mirehart, for instance, had hidden his heart in a barrel organ, made of notes and pipes and the wood of a dryad’s pan flute. It would pump quite well every time he turned the hilt. And Father Mirehart would frequently take to the cobblestone streets, cranking his organ to fill the city block with melodies that prompted pedestrians to toss bronze coins into his upturned cap— which was a heartwarming transaction, in the most literal sense of the word.

Mother Mirehart had hidden her own heart in a jewelry box. And her diamonds blushed into scarlet red, bright blue sapphires into byzantium purple, and opals into delicate pale pink. Her heart beat quietly in the box’s corner for years as she carefully avoided so much as a sidelong glance while selecting her stained jewels for an evening soiree.

But no matter their personal preference on the method, every Mirehart eventually agreed to carve out their hearts. Which is why it was so insanely bizarre, so unnervingly uncanny that Matthew Mirehart had held fast his resolve to fall in love.

“How about we hide your heart in the flames of a lamppost, dear Matthew?” His second cousin once suggested.

“No, I plan to use it.”

“I’ve seen wyverns in the North hide their eggs in the carpels of their favorite flowers. Why don’t you try something like that with your heart?” Offered his grandfather then.

Though the idea of mimicking the behavior of wyverns intrigued him, Matthew shook his head. “I’d rather keep it in my body.”

Each night as the clock hands embraced dinnertime, his family would gather. And there would be times when one would unabashedly and unwelcomely offer their views on Matthew's reluctance to securely stow away his heart. And Matthew, very apathetic to their cause, would cease to listen. He naturally grew into a lad of peculiar quietude.

It was due to his silence that people began assuming that Matthew was thoughtless. Yet they were fools not to know that within the cocoon of his quietude, he was brewing a tempest of thoughts. He knew the rate at which apples would fall from the trees in their orchard and the distance at which they would, how far the road in town would stretch until it abruptly ended at the foot of the mountains that separated the kingdoms, and how the window of his bedroom would open with a single shove and might just lead him far away one night.

Unfortunately, Matthew had long decided that his family was unworthy of the labor to produce words from thoughts and transport them to the tip of his tongue.

One dinnertime, Mother Mirehart’s patience had run very thin and she slammed down a wine glass, carelessly rocking the crimson liquid inside, as the topic of her son's heart once again attended the meal.

“You can’t possibly expect yourself to carry that thing around your whole life!” She hissed at her son, “It’s ridiculous!”

But despite the threat of upsetting his mother and the multitude of eyes, widened and uneasy, collectively pivoted toward him, Matthew didn’t speak. 

So Mother Mirehart’s face contorted into an aggrieved glower, and horrible lines creased themselves onto her delicate, porcelain face. “Now, you listen here,” She fumed, “I will not take such disrespect in my house! Martha!”

Maid Martha crept closer from the line of servants on the left side of the room.

“Would you please escort Matthew to the Tall Tower? He will stay there until he’s prepared to cooperate with the family.”

“Now, now,” Ol’ Granny Mirehart offered with an unbothered grace, “We could always revisit this later.”

“But this is later!” She seethed, “Last time was later too, and so was the time before that! We always stop halfway into the argument and never finish it, dragging it on and on and on! Well, I’m tired of this discussion and I would like to have it resolved once and for all!”

Matthew took care to not be hit by the door upon exiting the dining hall with Maid Martha.

[hopewriteszstuff]

Chapter 1: Detective Lumen.

Tags: @the-ellia-west (check the pinned post for synopsis and stuff)

Snow, This is the first time I have seen snow since I can remember.

 

There's something about it that reminds me of when I was young and innocent, of days that passed long ago.

It gives me a bittersweet feeling, a certain warmth in my heart. I still miss those days, but it is no use lingering in the past.

 

I light a cigarette and take a deep breath as I stare into space. Even though the cigarette does nothing, the warmth and the bitter taste give a semblance of life to my cold body.

 

My brother always complains about how nicotine is deadly and that I'm risking my health, he keeps mentioning how people die because of it. And I always remind him that we aren't people.

 

Standing in the alleyway, I let myself get lost in my thoughts as I watched everything around me get coated in snow, like a mountain of powdered sugar, or a soft white blanket.

 

Then, I feel a presence, and I hear a voice, I was not alone.

 

"M..Mister? Mister?"

 

I immediately look around me, searching for whoever was around here and just spoke up, until I realize...

 

It was down... Down... At my foot.

Wait... What?

I squint and rub my eyes, for I could see a little brown blob tugging at my coat.

 

No, it wasn't a brown blob, it was a little... Person? Girl? A little girl, only about three inches tall!

 

The poor wee thing was looking at me in both fear and desperation, shivering in the cold, it pained me to see her like this.

 

She was a creature called a "borrower", a small person that lives in house walls and makes a living out of unwanted, forgotten things, hence the "borrower".

 

I have never got to see one as close as this, they are usually shy creatures that won't reveal themselves to a human, let alone a monster like me.

 

I figured that the poor dear was in a dire situation, and she reached out to me to help her.

 

Alas, I will try my best.

 

I think of where to take her, of course! Arsen would love to see her, he always wanted to see a borrower from a close distance.

 

So I reach out to take her into my gloved hand, And no sooner than when she was in my hand that she awoke from whatever daze froze her.

 

She immediately leaped from my palm and she was free-falling.

"Fuck!" I exclaim as I catch the rather reckless bundle in my hands and quickly tuck her into my shirt pocket, and I'm filled with guilt as I hear her weak, soft voice begging me to let go.

 

"Shhh, It's okay, it's okay," I whisper to the little one as I pat my pocket, feeling her curling into a small ball.

 

"Sleep now, I won't hurt you, just going to take you somewhere safe."

 

A few moments pass, and I only hear her breathing, so I assume that she is asleep.

 

I take another breath of my cigarette, then I realize that my supervisor will be upset about my slacking, as she only allowed me a five-minute break.

 

When I walked back to her office, she looked quite upset at me.

 

"Lumen! You are late! And that cigarette is still burni_"

"Shh_"

She is too loud. I raise my finger over my lips as a gesture for her to be quiet, then I decide to show her what made me late.

 

As I reach into my pocket, the little blonde woman eyed me with a skeptical look. I take out the borrower, and I carefully laid her in my hand, noticing how serene she was in her sleep.

 

Now that she is close and still, I take a good look at her.

 

She is a small girl, with a huge cloud of curly brown hair that falls behind her back and on her shoulders. Her freckles spread all over her face and arms like cinnamon, especially on her plump cheeks and little button nose, I can notice how pallid her face was, how she was covered in dust, perhaps it's a good thing that I found her.

 

Charlotte stares at me, then at the little girl in my palm, I see a smile forming on her face as she coos softly.

"Aww, Gosh! What a cutie! What a little darling!"

The way she gushed over the borrower was getting on my nerves. Humans tend to overreact to things, and it makes me nervous.

 

"And what are you doing with her?" She asked.

"I'm taking her to Arsen, He will know_"

"Don't! He will hurt the poor baby! He can't be trusted_"

 

"I was informing you, not asking for your opinion."

 

I tell her in a firmer tone. It looks like I went too far, as she was taken aback by that.

 

Then I see that look in her blue eyes, that dreaded look, and I thought we were getting somewhere.

 

Guess we were never there, to begin with.

 

"L..looks like it's the end of your shift! You are dismissed, Lumen."

 

I heard a soft murmur and felt the subtle movements in my hand.

Right, the borrower.

I slip the small borrower I nearly forgot about back into my pocket, and I turn back to the exit.

 

I take one last breath from the cigarette I held, then I throw it and crush it under my foot, Charlotte doesn't deserve a clean office.

 

====

 

I'm back at my apartment's door, my safe and familiar apartment.

I knock on the door, and the raspy voice of Arsen answers me.

 

"Who the fuck is it?"

 

"Who would it be?" I replied.

 

"I don't know, The fucking police? a fairy who managed to get my name? A loan shark I didn't know I was indebted to? "

 

"It's the police then."

 

I say as I put my keys in the lock and turn it.

 

Arsen is jumpy and anxious, the last thing I want is for him to shoot me, it will be very inconvenient to have a bullet in my head right now.

 

I look at my brother and I remember why he doesn't go out of the apartment, he was even more inhumane than I am, with skin as dark as night, sunken eyes, sallow cheeks, crooked long ears, and sharp crooked teeth. Arsen is described by some as a "Tall goblin", and with his strange posture and alert looks, he wasn't different from one.

 

He stood at seven feet tall, although he was always hunched so he always looked a foot shorter, he was wearing a bright white lab coat atop his equally colored suit. The colors contrasted with his skin and matched his eye color.

 

The place was as organized as always, although Arsen did not believe in a god, there were crosses and other religious symbols everywhere. I always thought this was kind of strange, but Arsen insisted that "spirituality wards off the supernatural, and it does not contradict with science nor what he believes."

 

"I have something for you," I tell him.

"What is it?"

After washing my hands, I

reach into my pocket to take out the small girl, to which Arsen's eyes widened.

 

"Put it in this cage! Quickly! And change your clothes and wash your hands! Who knows where you found it and what sort of diseases it carries!"

 

I nod to him and go to the bathroom to take a quick shower.

 

It all went down so quickly, one minute I was putting on a shirt and the next I hear Arsen coughing his lungs out.

 

And as fast as I could, I run to the kitchen and I open a cabinet that I mentally marked, taking out an inhaler.

 

Helping my brother to sit down, I put the inhaler in his mouth and aided him as he took a puff, then another.

 

For a few minutes, he was breathing and slowly inhaling, as I tried my best to calm him down.

 

"It's alright, Arsen, you are still here, nothing happened, you are safe with me."

 

"I'm here for you, I did not forget."

Over and over, I stayed nearby and spoke as quietly and as gently as I could muster, until Arsen could feel that he can breathe again, there is no wheezing in his voice, and the air was entering his lungs normally.

 

"I took my medicine, this wasn't meant to happen!" He panicked, shivering like a frail leaf in the winds of October in my arms.

 

"You did, Arsen, you never forgot" I reassure him.

"Then why did i"_

"The windows are closed, the apartment is clean, I showered and changed my clothing, my shoes are outside the door, you did everything correctly and I did too." I try to reassure him, again.

 

"I must have forgotten something! You must have done something! It could have been the door or_"

I present him with his own notebook, where his checklist was completed, I also point at the door, which I made sure was closed tightly.

 

"It doesn't have to be for a reason, You have frail lungs, that isn't your fault."

"Not everything has to be for a reason."

 

I look at the small girl in the cage, she was watching all of this with wary curiosity.

 

"What are you going to do about her?" I ask him.

"You do, I must recheck if I missed something."

 

I nod, and I take the nearest chair, I pull it and sit next to the glass cage, And I see a book that s open wide next to it, Arsen must have been studying her.

 

I get closer to her and I notice her eyes, she had big, chocolate-brown eyes that were staring up at me in both awe and fear. Humans already tower over her like skyscrapers, I can't imagine how I look to her.

I sigh and lower my voice.

 

"It's time we have a talk."

[auntieheart]

Pink diamond doesn't deserve hate

I think the hate for pink diamond is wrong cuz she honestly didn't do anything anybody else wouldn't do in that situation.

Let's break it down in order:

Pink pearl was damaged by mistake, Pink was mad at the other diamonds had an outburst of power (like Steven has when extremely upset) and Pink pearl was caught in it and was harmed by mistake. Yes her trauma from it is real but we have to acknowledge that wasn't intentional and that she clearly cared for Pink pearl as a friend.

Spinel: Pink diamond had no real choice, from the way I see it. She never planned on leaving her forever cuz she never planned on leaving her life as a diamond forever. Yes it's crappy that she left her standing there alone for a long time in general but gems are capable of going against their diamonds orders and she was shown to not listen so its fully possible she assumed that spinel would get bored and do something else.

Bismuth: bismuth was planning on murdering other gems and was shown to be unwilling to listen. Don't focus on the recon of her character later in the show. She was far from reasonable and was a danger to everyone. Her not telling the other gems may have been because she didn't want to lose more friends, cuz if they did take bismuth's side she would have to bubble them too. Not to mention her choosing to bubble her was far better than what she could have done.

Faking her death: fuck the diamonds, they abused her and she wanted to escape and deserved to escape. They smothered Steven but were shown to be down right abusive to Pink. Her room was full of tiny pebbles born of her tears. Every one of her memories with them were negative. They might miss her but they never really act themselves if they deserved her as their family. In my opinion, they didn't. Not to mention they are the root of all of this, they abused and ignored her causing her to have a outburst like any powerless person would do in that situation and harm her only friend.

They refused to end the colony cuzing her to create the crystal gems. They made her essentially have to fight on two sides of a war. With her death being the only real option.

Cuz let's been clear, if they knew pink diamond was rose quartz there would be no war cuz they would just force her to come back. They were bigger and stronger than her and white diamond can easily brainwash her. Rose quartz being the figure head allowed for them to keep their distance and only get involved when they felt it was necessary in order to teach her to be a leader and fall back completely when they thought pink died.

Also it annoys me that the show seem to have a problem with her faking her death. Like the fact that she didn't kill herself for the Revolution is a bad thing on her part. Like her giving up her life and family for both the people on the planet and gems who wanted freedom meant nothing cuz "she faked her death" like she didn't try talk no Jujutsu for probably centuries with her only reward being a zoo full of people. Like she wasn't fighting on the Frontline and didn't make hard choices to minimize casualties. She may not have been perfect but she set the Foundation that steven walked on to end the diamond Authority.

I get that she lied and wasnt perfect but i feel like the show missed mutiple opportunities to state "idealizing someone is not good" I mean from the beginning they had steven freaking out cuz he wasn't "perfect like rose" they made it seem like she was the perfect most loving, capable and beautiful person ever. And the moment they saw her faults, they started to distance themselves and act as if everything she ever done was a lie. They made this person into a God and got mad the moment the universe made it care she was a person. And them doing that hurt steven, they pushed steven into feeling like he had to be like his mom. Than that he had to be a better version of her and the moment the cracks started to form, he started to think that he was a monster cuz thats what he's flawed mom is in his eyes.

Steven was never able to process his flaws cuz he spent 14 years believing he was following in the foot steps of someone without flaws and 2 years making up for the flaws of his mother and everyone else around him. And this is all cuz the gems refused to acknowledge the rose was capable of making mistakes.

My point isn't that she is without fault or some innocent pure character but that she wasn't some evil psycho. She didn't go out of her way to harm others things just happened and people got hurt. That is how life is, no matter how good you are you might leave 100s of people picking up the pieces of glass that was your shattered life. I am a strong believer that intent and action go hand and hand. You can hate someone's actions but respect their intent.

[chainofclovers]

Ted Lasso 2x11 thoughts

For an episode that ends with a journalist Ted trusts but has (understandably) recently lied to warning Ted that he’s publishing an article about his panic attacks, it was fitting that this episode seemed entirely about what all of these characters choose to tell each other. And after most of a season of television that Jason Sudeikis has described as the season in which the characters go into their little caves to deal with things on their own, it turns out they are finally able to tell each other quite a lot.

Which is good because, um, wow, a lot is going to happen in the season finale of this show!

Thoughts on the things people tell each other behind the cut!

Roy and Keeley. I absolutely loved the moment during their photoshoot in which they bring up a lot of complicated emotional things and are clearly gutted (“gutted”? Who am I? A GBBO contestant who forgot to turn the oven on?) by what they’ve heard. We already know that Keeley and Roy are great at the kinds of moments they have before the shoot begins, in which Roy builds Keeley up and tells her she’s fucking amazing. From nearly the beginning of their relationship, they’ve supported each other and been each other’s biggest fans. But their relationship has gone on long enough that they’ve progressed from tentative arguments about space and individual needs into really needing to figure out what they mean to each other and how big their feelings are and what that means in relation to everything else. Watching these two confess about the uncomfortable kiss with Nate, the unexpectedly long conversation with Phoebe’s teacher, and—most painfully—the revelation that Jamie still loves Keeley didn’t feel like watching two people who are about to break up. (Although I could see them potentially needing space from each other to get clarity.) It felt like watching two people realize just how much they’d lose if they lost each other, which is an understandably scary feeling even—or especially—when you’re deeply in love but not entirely sure what the future holds. Not entirely sure what you’re capable of when you’ve never felt serious about someone in quite this way, and are realizing you have to take intentional actions to choose that relationship every single day. I’m excited to learn whether Roy and Keeley decide they need to solidify their relationship more (not necessarily an engagement, but maybe moving in together or making sure they’re both comfortable referring to the other as partner and telling people they’re in a committed relationship) or if things go in a different direction for a while.

Sharon and Ted. I’ve had this feeling of “Wow, Ted is going to feel so intense about how honest he’s been with Sharon and is going to end up getting really attached and transfer a lot of emotions onto the connection they have and that is stressful no matter how beneficial it has been for him to finally get therapy!” for a while now. And Sharon’s departure really brought that out and it was indeed stressful. But the amount of growth that’s happened for both of these characters is really stunningly and beautifully conveyed in this episode. Ted is genuinely angry she left without saying goodbye, and he doesn’t bury it some place deep inside him where it will fester for the next thirty years. He expresses his anger. (I also noticed he sweared—mildly—in front of her again, which is really a big tell for how much he has let his carefully-constructed persona relax around her.) He reads her letter even though he said he wasn’t going to, and he’s moved. I don’t think Ted has the words for his connection to Sharon beyond “we had a breakthrough,” but Sharon gets it, and is able to firmly assert a professional boundary by articulating her side of that breakthrough as an experience that has made her a better therapist. And is still able to offer Ted a different kind of closure by suggesting they go out before her train leaves. No matter how you feel about a patient/football manager seeing their therapist/team psychologist colleague socially, I appreciated this story because IMO it didn’t cross big lines but instead was about one final moment in this arc in which both Ted and Sharon saw each other clearly and modeled what it is to give someone what they need and to expect honesty and communication from them. I liked that Ted ends up being the one saying goodbye. (The mustache in the exclamation points!) I like that whether or not Sharon returns in any capacity (Sarah Niles is so wonderful that I hope she does, but I’m not sure), the goodbye these characters forge for themselves here is neither abandonment nor a new, more complicated invitation. It’s the end of a meaningful era, and although the work of healing is the work of a lifetime, it’s very beautiful to have this milestone.

Ted and Rebecca. So, maybe it’s just me, but it kinda feels like these two have a few li’l life things to catch up on?! (HAHHHHHaSdafgsdasdf!) I really adored their interactions in this episode. I maintain that Biscuits With The Boss has been happening this whole time (even when Ted’s apartment was in shambles, there’s biscuit evidence, and I feel like we’ve been seeing the biscuit boxes in Rebecca’s office pretty regularly too), even if it might have been more of a drive-by biscuit drop-off/feelings avoidance ritual. It was really lovely to see Ted on more even footing in Rebecca’s office, joking around until she tells him to shut up, just like the old days. And GOSH—for their 1x9 interaction in Ted’s office to be paralleled in this episode and for Ted to explicitly make note of the parallel in a way Rebecca hears and sees and understands?! MY HEART. In both of Rebecca’s confessions, she is not bringing good news but it is good and meaningful that she chooses to share with Ted. In both situations, Ted takes the moment in stride and offers acceptance equivalent to the gravity of what she has to confess. And in both situations, he’s not some kind of otherworldly saint, able to accept Rebecca no matter what because he’s unaffected by what she shares. He is affected. When he tells her about Sam, you can see a variety of emotions on his face. Rebecca is upset and Ted is calm, and even if I might have liked for him to try to talk about the risk the affair poses to the power dynamics on the team or any number of factors, I also really liked that he just accepts where she is, and—most importantly—does not offer her advice beyond examining herself and taking her own advice. A massive part of being in a relationship with another person (a close relationship of any nature) is figuring out how to support that person without necessarily having to be happy about every single thing they do. It’s so important that Ted connects what she’s just told him about Sam back to what she told him last season about her plot with the club. These both feel like truth bombs to him, and he is at least safe enough to make that clear. These are both things that impact him, things that shape how he sees her and maybe even how he sees himself. He cares about her and is capable of taking in this information; he has room for it. But it’s not something he takes lightly, and neither does she. See you next year.

Tumblr user chainofclovers and the TV show Ted Lasso. My brain is going wild thinking about all the ways the next “truth bomb” conversation could go in 3x11 or whatever. Maybe they go full consistent parallel and Rebecca confesses something else, this time about her and Ted or some other big future thing that impacts him as much or more as the other confessions have. (The same but different.) Maybe the tables turn and Ted has something to confess to her. While the 1x9 conversation ended in an embrace and the 2x11 conversation ended with a bit more physical distance (understandable given the current state of their relationship and the nature of the discussion), the verbal ending of both conversations involved voices moving into a sexier lower register while zooming in to talk specifically about their connection to each other, so I have to assume there will be some consistencies in s3 even if the circumstances will be completely different. I don’t really know where I’m going with this and I obviously will go insane if I sustain this level of anticipatory energy until Fall 2022 but I have a feeling my brain and heart are going to try!

Sam and Rebecca. I know there’s been a lot of criticism about whether this show is being at all realistic about the power dynamics and inevitable professional issues this relationship would create. On some level, I agree; I like that pretty much everyone who knows about the affair has been kind so far, but you can be kind and still ask someone to contend with reality. But I also think that in nearly every plot point on this show, the narrative is driven by how people feel about their circumstances first and foremost. (It’s why the whiteboard in the coaching office and the football commentators tell us more about how the actual football season is going from a points perspective than anyone else.) This episode reminded me how few people know about Sam and Rebecca, and how much their time together so far has been time spent in bed. The private sphere. I thought this episode really expertly brought the public sphere into it, not—thank goodness—through a humiliating exposure or harsh judgment but through an opportunity for Sam that illustrates not only all his potential to do great things but how much Rebecca’s professional position and personal feelings are in conflict with that. Could stand in the way of that. I don’t have a strong gut feeling about where this will go, but I do think Sam’s face in his final scene of this episode is telling. He started the episode wanting to see Rebecca (his most recent text to her was about wanting to connect), and Edwin’s arrival from Ghana really exploded his sense of what is possible for his life. If he’d arrived home to Rebecca sitting on his stoop prior to meeting Edwin, he’d have been delighted. Now he’s conflicted, and whatever decision he makes, he has to reckon with the reality that he cannot have everything he wants. No matter what. And Rebecca—she has taken Ted’s advice and is attempting to be honest about the fact that she can’t control Sam’s decisions but hopes he doesn’t go, and even saying that much feels so inappropriate. And I’m not sure how much she realizes about the inappropriateness of the position she’s putting him in, although maybe she’s getting there considering she exits the scene very quickly. I’ve honestly loved Rebecca’s arc this season. I think it’s realistic that she got obsessed with the intimacy she thought she could find in her phone. I think it’s realistic that her professional and personal ambitions are inappropriately linked. (They certainly were for Rupert. It’s been years since she’s known anything different; even if she’s done some significant recovery work to move on from her abusive marriage and figure out her own priorities, she’s got a long way to go.) I know there are people who will read this interaction between Rebecca and Sam as a totally un-self-aware thing on the part of “the show” or “the writers” but what I saw is two people who enjoyed being in bed together and now have to deal with the reality that they’re in two different places in their lives and that one has great professional power over the other. If that wasn’t in the show, I wouldn’t be able to see it or feel so strongly about it.

Edwin and Sam. I really enjoyed all the complexities of this interaction. Edwin is promising a future for Sam that doesn’t quite exist yet, though he has the financial means to make it happen. He offers this by constructing for Sam a Nigerian—and Ghanaian—experience unlike anything he’s found in London. Sam is amazed that this experience is here, and Edwin’s response is to explain to him that the experience is not here. Not really. The experience in Africa. Sam has of course connected to the other Nigerian players on the team, but this is something else entirely. I’m really curious if Sam is going to end up feeling that what Edwin has to offer is real or not. That sense of home and connection? So real. And so right that he would want to experience that homecoming and would want to be part of building that experience for others. But at the end of the day, he went to a museum full of actors and a pop-up restaurant full of “friends,” and is that constructed authenticity as a stand-in for a real homecoming more or less real than the home he’s building in Richmond? (With other players who stand in solidarity with him, and with well-meaning white coaches who say dumb stuff sometimes, and an a probably-doomed love interest, and a feeling that he should put chicken instead of goat in the jollof, and the ability to stand out as an incredible player on a rising team.)

Nate and everyone. But also Nate and no one. Nate’s story is so painful and I’m so anxious for next week’s episode. For a long time I’ve felt that a lot of Nate’s loyalties are with Richmond, and a lot of his ambitions are around having given so much to this place without getting a lot back, and having a strong feeling that he’s the answer to Richmond’s future. But now I’m not so sure; his ambitions have transferred into asking everyone he knows (except Ted, of course), if they want to be “the boss.” But Nate is all tactics and no communication. When he wants to suggest a new play to Ted, he hasn’t yet learned to read Ted’s language to learn that Ted is eager to hear what he has to say. And while Ted has been really unfortunately distracted about Nate and dismissive of him this season, he clearly respects Nate’s approach to football and was appreciative of the play. Nate just can’t hear that. The suit is such a great metaphor of all the things Nate is in too much pain to be able to hear clearly. Everyone digs at him for wearing the suit Ted bought him (including Will, who’s got to get little cuts in where he can, because he’s got to be sick of the way Nate treats him), but when he gets fed up his solution isn’t to go out on his own and find more clothes he likes; he asks Keeley to help him. And then crosses a major line with her...and no matter how kind she was about it, she was clearly not okay. Everything is going to blow up, and I’m so curious as to whether Nate will end up aligning himself with Rupert in some way or if he’s going to end up screwed over by Rupert and in turn try to screw over his colleagues even worse than he’s already done. Or try desperately to make amends even though it could be too late for some. Either way, I’m fully prepared to feel devastated. (And there’s no way I’m giving up on this character. If he’s able to learn, I truly believe he could end up seeking forgiveness and forging a happier existence for himself. Someday. Like in season 3 or something.)

Ted and Trent. Trent deciding to reveal his source to Ted is a huge deal, and I’m torn between so many emotions about this exposé. I’m glad it’s a Trent Crimm piece and not an Ernie Loundes piece. I’m glad that Trent made the decision to warn Ted and let him know that Nate is his source. I fear—but also hope—that this exposure will set off a chain reaction of Ted learning about some of the things he’s missed while suffering through a really bad bout with his dad-grief and panic disorder. The things Ted doesn’t know would devastate him. I wonder if Ted will want to figure out a way to make Nate feel heard and reconcile with him, and I wonder how that will be complicated if/when he realizes Nate has severely bullied Will, gets more details on how he mistreated Colin, etc. I wonder if Rebecca, whom Nate called a “shrew” right before she announced his promotion, will be in the position of having to ask Ted to fire him, or overriding Ted and doing it herself. So many questions! I have a feeling it’ll go in some wild yet very human-scaled, emotionally-nuanced direction, and I’ll be like “Oh my GOD!” but also like “Oh, of course.”

This VERY SERIOUS AND EMOTIONAL REVIEW has a major flaw, which is that none of the above conversations include mention of the absolute love letter to N*SYNC. Ted passionately explains how things should go while dancing ridiculously! Will turns on the music and starts gyrating! Roy nods supportively! Beard shouts the choreography like the Broadway choreographer of teaching grown men who play football how to dance like a boy band. Everyone is so incredibly proud when they nail it. I love them.

I cannot believe next week is the end. For now. I’m kind of looking forward to letting everything settle during the hiatus, but I’ve really loved the ride.

[sungie]

hello love so excited to see your req box open☺️❤️ could you possibly do jealous megumi or inumaki when they see you talking to your ex?

a/n: ahhh hello!! <3 omg thank u for requesting i had a lot of fun writing this one // AJKJD;AJFD it’s so funny to me bc normally i don’t like jealous people blame my aquarius BUT um ,,, say less ,, mayhaps jealous fushiguro would be okay  

(*ﾉ▽ﾉ)

masterlist

[𝐟𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐨 𝐦𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐦𝐢]

“Can I ask you something?” 

Fushiguro’s voice is unusually strained. His words sound strung around the edges, yet there’s still something strangely vulnerable about what he's implying.

“What’s up?” Despite your nonchalance, you’re relieved he's broken the silence.  It was clear something was wrong ever since he'd closed himself off, an irritated frown pulling at his lips.  When you originally asked him about it, he shrugged it off as being tired, but you knew Fushiguro. It was obvious that he'd only responded to you out of polite necessity.

There's a brief pause as he struggles to find the right way to go about this. And then he's sighing, his gaze setting in resolve. "Who was that?"

You turn, casting your gaze toward the retreating figure. He's upset about that?

Fushiguro shifts in his stance.

"Oh," you blink, "you don't have to worry about it."

It's clear Fushiguro doesn't like your answer, and he glowers at his feet. "They seemed to know you well."

You can't help the amused breath of air that leaves your mouth. If you didn't know any better, you'd think Fushiguro were jealous. There's a bitter tinge to his voice, one that's all too clearly matched with his prickly attitude. You're not quite sure how Fushiguro manages to appear extremely disconnected while also obviously upset.

"I guess so." You chew on your lip, gauging his reaction. "They're my ex."

Fushiguro’s head snaps up. His eyes widen, disappointment quickly clouding over his expression. And then as quickly as it comes, a practiced stillness glides across his features and erases any trace of emotion, carefully preserving a mild, disinterested facade. "Oh."

You stifle a laugh. "Oh?'

Fushiguro sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. He leans his head against the wall in exasperation. "They still like you." The moment the words leave his mouth, he scrunches his face like the very thought leaves a bitter aftertaste, citrine and unwelcome. "It's so obvious."

"They don't."

"They do."

"And how would you know that?"

"Because they made a fool of themselves," Fushguro sends a pointed look your way, almost as if you're the one he's irritated with. "Like, they'd do anything to get your attention."

"Fushiguro," you start.

"It's so stupid," he mumbles, dropping his gaze, "it's just like how I"--

You tilt your head. "How you?"

His mouth parts in realization, and he sighs. "Forget it. It doesn't matter." He sticks his hands in his pockets, lips drawn to the side as he processes. It's something you've seen him do often.

Except, you're not expecting to witness regret flicker across his face. It's gone as soon as you see it.

"Would you?" When he looks back at you, a trace of desperation fills his voice.

It's almost as if your next words hold the answer to some long, puzzled over question that only he knows the words to.

"Would I what?"

"Go back," Fushiguro mumbles. "Would you go back to them if you could?"

"No."

Fushiguro blinks. "You didn't even think about it."

“I don’t need to think about it.”

"They'd take you back," he says helplessly.

"Do you want me to?" You tease, shaking your head. "I don't have feelings for them."

Fushiguro can't look away. It's at this moment where it seems as if there's no disconnection between what he's saying and what he's expressing.

"So, I still have a chance." It's murmured softly, phrased so delicately that it feels like a question and a realization all at once. You're not even sure if he intended for you to hear it.

"I told you, Megumi. You don't have to worry."

As soon as you say it, Fushiguro flushes. It's not just his ears--his entire face. "I'm not worried," he mutters hotly, assuming a haughty expression and turning away. "I don't know why you'd think that."

[𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐢 𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞]

Inumaki’s upset.  His violet eyes turn perfectly dead-pan with no trace of the gleeful recognition that normally lights across his expression whenever he meets your gaze.  Neither is there any trace of indifference.  In fact, upset might be an understatement.  He looks furious. 

It started off as a pout when he met your eyes from across the grounds.  He’d waved, arm thrown over his head in an exaggerated sort of way.  He’d tilted his head, too, physically whining about why you couldn’t finish up and join him and the others already. 

That was before your sparring partner slammed their polearm into your stomach, sending you sprawling to the ground.  It’s harsher than supposed to be, and you cough, clutching your ribs.  You’re not hurt, it just stings a little. 

It was then that you’d risked a glance at Inumaki, and witnessed every fluctuation of emotion that crossed his face.  Even from here, it’s easy to tell exactly how angry he is.  And judging from his reaction, you’re all too aware that he’s finally noticed who the person is that just violated sparring rules.  

Inumaki’s usual reaction when you fall during training is that of amusement.  He likes to tease you, as long as you’re not seriously hurt, especially since he knows that everyone means well. 

But this is very different. 

You grimace, trying to somehow communicate that it's fine, but --

“Konbu.” 

It’s the rudest greeting you’ve ever heard from him.  And it’s directed at the person sparring against you.  

“Toge,” you hiss, “go away.” 

Inumaki turns his gaze to you.  His eyes soften, and he crouches down next to you, tilting his head to the side.  “Salmon?”  He presses a hand against yours, the one clutching your side.  

Are you okay?

You nod, gratefully accepting the other hand he offers to help you stand.

Except, when you try to resume training, Inumaki doesn’t let go.  His hand remains slipped into yours, and he even interlocks your fingers with his for good measure.  His hand is trembling. 

“Inumaki.” 

He meets your gaze quickly, stopping himself from stepping forward.  And then his anger defuses, and he sighs, tugging at your arm.  He gestures toward the tree a few distances away, the same one you usually relax at with everyone in-between meals, missions, training, whatever. 

You shake your head. 

Even though you can’t see his mouth, you know he’s pouting.  Except this time it’s not just out of wanting to spend time with you.  It’s a childish pout, an angry pout, and you’re all too aware of what it means.

He doesn’t understand why you're letting your ex get away with this.

But it’s when you pry his hand off yours, that Inumaki glowers at you. 

He wraps his arms around your waist, gentle enough to avoid pressing against your ribs, and he pushes you away from the sparring grounds.  And more importantly, away from your ex who he visibly bristles at.

“Stop, we’re not finished --”

“Salmon, salmon,” Inumaki mumbles in sympathy, but even you can detect the obvious glee behind his voice, as he presses his cheek against yours. 

You want to smack him. 

He lets go when you’ve reached where he wants to go, and he gazes at you with bright eyes.

“You didn't have to do that, you know.” 

Inumaki looks at you blankly.  A sarcastic eyebrow raises. 

You sigh, already knowing why it bothers him so much.  “I’m still mad at you.” 

Inumaki just shrugs, tugging at blades of grass and letting them blow away in the wind.  He rests his head atop your lap, gazing at the leaves breezing back and forth.

[redwinterroses]

You want me to out-angst you? Alright. What if there's a cast split to begin S9? Like, a majority of the cast wakes up on the Hermitheus (or whatever the ship was called) and moves on to the new continent. But some others (like Cleo and BDubs, for example) get stuck. Pulled into The Nothing, maybe. And they have to break out themselves/find their own way back.

Hi, first of all: congrats on being the first person to take me up on that. XD

Secondly: THAT'S A FANTASTIC IDEA it's like -- SHADE hey shade??? Can this be Scattered AU: Part 2?

Bdubs would have it really hard -- the man is nothing BUT imagination. Having his creativity stripped from him would leave him an angry confused shell of a man. Cleo... I think she'd be better off. She's still an INTENSELY creative person, but she's also far more pragmatic than Bdubs. She'd have something to fall back on, to keep them alive.

Maybe Tango's there too. Maybe his floating-in-space was how his brain interpreted being swallowed by the Nothing. He'd be middle-ground between the two of them, I think. They're wandering this dark void -- at least they don't need to eat here, and they don't seem to get tired, though Bdubs just desperately wants to sleep it away -- and they come across this huddled figure in a space suit.

"Tango??" Bdubs is incredulous. "I thought you got out!"

The figure moves, and Tango peers out at them blearily. "What? How--how the heck are you guys here???"

Cleo helps him up. "Does it matter? Moon big. Moon fall. We're here. Now we've got to deal with it."

So they wander on, not even sure if they're going in a straight line, occasionally talking, but it's amazing how hard conversation is when your imagination is being eroded away.

And then -- hear me out -- what if the Nothing is where banned players go? The void beyond the void. So the crew is trudging along, and suddenly Bdubs sees a familiar helmeted silhouette in the distance.

"X!" he shouts, and runs forward. But when he gets closer he realizes, it's not Xisuma. It's Evil X.

"Oh," he sniffs. "It's you."

"Thought you escaped with your riches," Cleo accuses. "Left X to deal with your mess."

EX is seated on the not-ground, and they look up with disbelieving eyes. "People!" they exclaim. Then, more scornfully: "Hermits. Did you lot finally make old Xisumavoid upset enough to ban you too?"

"Ban us?" Tango knocks his knuckles against his helmet. "Got a loose circuit board in there, EXy? The moon did this."

"Moon?"

And that's when the crew realizes: this is the real EX -- not the simulated creature created to keep Xisuma distracted and unable to help Ren and Doc fight the virus. This is the EX that was banned back in ye olden seasons. And this EX has no idea about anything derpcoin related or moon connected... they're still fixated on things like "summoning withers" and "trap Xisuma in a chamber and kill him over and over again." You know. The good old villainous ways.

But they're also sad and lonely and have been by themselves for a very long time, so with a glance at each other, Tango and Cleo allow EX to join them, and Bdubs sputters and splutters and protests but finally agrees, on the condition that "I'm not callin' them "Evil X," because that's a stupid name."

"What are you going to call them?" Tango asks, half curious and half amused.

But Bdubs stops. He opens his mouth to say something, but the words don't come. His expression closes. "I... can't think of anything," he grumbles.

And that's when they know it's really starting to get bad.

How do they get out? Who else do they find in this Nothing-place? Who knows. But I'd assume the hermits on the other side realize something's wrong too. Maybe they get to Planet HC-9 and some of the hermits don't wake up. They're in comas, still in their pods. So now the other hermits have to figure out how to reach into the Nothing and save their friends without losing themselves.

...yeah anyway that's certainly a thought.

[hpimaginesandblurbs]

Hi! I loooove your writings.

Could you write a one for me where the war ends and Harry goes to Ginny to apologize after sometime, but being the stubborn woman she is, she picks up a fight with him and says she doesn't want to see him again. He needed the most comfort during that time and that is when our reader (who was also his best friend) enters 🎉, she stays with him during his nightmares and all his PTSD episodes and comforts him, and being oblivious to both of them, they fall in love. And when Ginny sees them together, she realises she shouldn't have let him go and she goes to talk with him, he calls her off but forgives her anyway.

P.S- Ginny sees the reader and James after she finishes talking with Harry and it breaks her?

I know it will take a lot of time, but I hope you can write it for me, please 🥺🥺.

pairing: harry potter x muggle!reader 

warning(s): pg, hurt/comfort, angst

word count: 2.9k 

a/n: i decided to make it a muggle, childhood best friend reader because it just started to flow like that. i hope you don’t mind and i hope this is everything you wanted it to be. i really loved the idea of writing something like this because it’s so different than my usual on her and it was really fun for me tbh.

1998 

---

“Hi,” Harry said from the doorway, a boyish grin on his face as he looked at his girlfriend sitting on her bed. Well, ex-girlfriend. Maybe girlfriend? He wasn’t sure. But that’s what he was here to try and figure out. 

“Hi,” Ginny replied back, a bit cold in her tone. 

“Can I - Can I come in?” He asked reluctantly. He had expected a much warmer welcome. When she simply nodded, he slipped in the room and shut the door lightly behind it. He leant against the door, wanting to keep as much distance between them until he was sure she wanted him closer. “I- I wanted to apologize for what this past year has been. I know I couldn’t help it, but I just wanted you to know all I wanted to do was keep you safe. You’re one of the only people I thought of when I was out there, wondering how you were doing, if you were alright. A- And I know this probably isn’t a good time but-,” he started, but Ginny cut him off quickly. 

“Then it isn’t a good time. You left me to go wonder about the woods for months. You didn’t have to do that. It didn’t change a damn thing. You never asked me how I felt about any of it. I just had to go along with it because you’re you,” she said angrily, a flush coming to her cheeks. 

“I know that now. That’s why I wanted to apologize,” Harry said back honestly, hoping she could hear it in his voice, see it in his eyes, just how sorry he was. 

Ginny let herself take a deep breath before looking up at him again. “You’re forgiven, but I won’t forget this, Harry. Ever. You hurt me and you can’t take that back easily.” 

“I know,” he said with a resigned sigh. 

He was just hoping… 

All he wanted was… 

He thought he could come to her… 

“I think you should leave, Harry. I love you, I do. But we all need some time right now. I need to be with my family,” Ginny told him gently, but that stubborn fire inside of her was never burnt out. 

“Y-yeah. Okay,” Harry agreed, immediately moving to open the door again. He had so much more he wanted to say to her, but he couldn’t stand the awkward tension for much longer. 

As he departed from the Burrow, he didn’t really have a clue as to where he was going. He didn’t have a family. Didn’t have a home. But he had Y/N. 

~~~

Later that night, Y/N heard a soft pop from outside her doorstep followed by a knock. When she opened it, she found her best friend Harry on her porch, staring down at his feet. 

“Are you alright?” She asked, concern lacing her voice, no need for hello’s between the two of them any longer. 

All Harry had to do was look up at her with tears swimming in his eyes to tell her no, no he was not alright. She immediately ushered him inside of her house and down the hallway to her bedroom, trying to bring him as much comfort as she could. 

Silently, she passed him old clothes that he had left there on previous occasions and guided him to lay down on the bed as he fought his tears before finally laying beside him as they had done as children. 

“What happened?” Y/N finally asked. 

“She doesn’t want me anymore. I know it’s stupid, after everything, but I just though… I dunno,” he trailed off, unable to look Y/N in the eye. 

She knew her childhood friend well as well as everything he had been through in his life, and she could see right through him. 

“Tell me,” she said gently, trying to coax the words out of him. 

“I just thought I could rely on her right now. I need her. She’s one of the only people who has ever brought me a shred of comfort and I need that right now,” he said quietly, for once in his life eloquently explaining his emotions. 

Y/N looked at the messy haired boy, unsure just what to do with him. It had to mean something that he came to her at that moment. When he felt he had no one, he somehow knew he still had her by his side. And Y/N could only hope that she brought the same comfort that Ginny had to him. 

“Well, you’re more than welcome to stay here. As long as you need. I’ve missed you,” she told him gently, keeping a well balanced smile on her face in case he finally looked up at her. 

And thankfully he finally did, and he looked a bit less upset than when he turned up, so that had to count for something. 

“I - I’ve missed you too, but I can’t just stay here,” he tried to argue. 

“And why’s that?” She asked, her brows furrowing together. 

“I don’t want to bother you,” he told her, a small blush coming to his cheeks. 

“Harry, we’ve been friends since forever and you’ve never bothered me once. You need someone, and quite frankly, somewhere to be. Just stay here,” she replied easily, not understanding why he was even arguing this. 

“I know that,” he said, frustration building in his voice. There was something he was hiding from her. After a well timed staring match, he finally broke. “I have nightmares.” 

“Well, I wouldn’t expect you to be completely unaffected by everything. That’s really not a problem, Harry. We’ll figure it out.” 

After much more much needed reassurance and enough hugs to satiate him, the pair finally fell asleep side by side, Harry finally feeling at ease in his own skin. 

~~~ 

One night turned into a week, and a week turned into months of Harry staying with Y/N. 

Almost every night, a nightmare would rouse them both from their sleep, but Y/N never faltered. Every time it happened, Y/N was quick to wake him from his screams and wrap him up in her arms, holding him until the tears stopped. Cups of tea would be shared and many late night binges of their favorite childhood shows brought the smiles back to both of their faces. 

And it wasn’t just difficult nights, the days grew hard sometimes as well. In his healing, Harry was paranoid, angry, depressed. Some days Y/N felt as if she was walking on eggshells around her best friend, but never once did she complain or feel put out by his behavior. She tried her best to understand what he had been through and the healing that came after that. 

And Harry was infinitely grateful for her. Without her, he wasn’t sure where he would be. Sure, he had Ron and Hermione, but they were preoccupied with themselves and each other at the meantime. He knew he could go to the Weasleys’, but he felt as if they had already done more than enough for him. And he hadn’t even heard from Ginny since that evening in her bedroom, a hurt that grew easier over time. 

As the months passed, the pair of friends only grew closer and closer. They practically knew each other inside out. And although there was another bedroom in Y/N’s flat, Harry always spent the night in her bed. Their bed. Both of them just argued that it was easier if a nightmare happened to leave it that way. 

And something that was clear in both of their heads, but oblivious to the other one, was that they were both madly in love with each other. Harry loved Y/N. Loved the comfort she brought, the ease she put him at, the way she was the only one to make him smile after a hard day. And Y/N loved Harry. Loved his messy hair in the mornings, the blushes he could make cross her cheeks, his never ending sass that could always make her laugh. But neither of them wanted to tell the other, unwilling to break the one good thing they both had going for them at the moment. 

~~~ 

It wasn’t until one day, on one of Harry’s particularly angry days, that one of them broke. 

He had come in slamming the door so hard it made the flat shake, making Y/N’s head snap up from her book. She eyes him warily as he made his way into the kitchen, where she could hear cabinets slamming and teacups clanging against each other from behind the wall.  

Slowly, she rose from her spot on the couch and rounded the corner into the kitchen, watching him carefully. 

“What?” Harry bit out harshly, knowing she was there without even turning around. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Y/N asked, the same as she always asked him when he was like this. 

“No. I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t know why you always insist on making me talk about things anyways,” he said, rounding on Y/N to face her. 

She could see the anger in his eyes and knew she had to tread lightly. There had been a few cases of accidental magic within the past few months that she wouldn’t like to relive again and had no intention of pushing him that far today. 

“We don’t have to talk about it. The only reason I ask is because I know it helps you sometimes,” she spoke carefully, keeping her voice decidedly blank despite her desire to scream in his face some days. 

When she moved to leave him be in the kitchen, she heard him speak softly. 

“I dunno why you even still want me here.” 

It made Y/N stop short and her heart shattered all in one breath. In all the time had been there, neither of them had even questioned aloud why he was still here. Y/N had no desire to change their arrangement and she assumed he didn’t either. He had never said anything about it until today. 

“Harry, look at me,” Y/N said when she reentered the kitchen, a determinism about her that he couldn’t question when he did as she said. “I told you months ago that you could stay here for as long as you wanted to, however long that is. And I sincerely hope I have never done or said anything to make you feel as if I think otherwise. But I will not sit here and let you question my words. I want you here because you’re my best friend and you shouldn’t have to go through this by yourself as much as you try and convince yourself you should.” 

“I just don’t get it. It can’t be fun having me here when I’m like this. Your boss almost fired you because you keep being late because I keep you up because of my issues. You don’t get enough sleep because of me. You walk on eggshells half the time, don’t think I haven’t noticed. Why haven’t you just kicked me out already?” He asked, growing more and more frustrated as he spoke. 

“No, it’s not always fun. But I didn’t expect it to be when I offered either. And I will never kick you out on your arse because - oh, it doesn’t matter why. You need to get it through your skull that people won’t just give up on you. I won’t,” Y/N told him, her voice beginning to rise to match his, the first signs of anger she had directed towards him since they were children. 

“Tell me why,” he shouted, his hands planted firmly on the kitchen table as he looked up at her, a mix of anger and curiosity in his eyes. 

In that moment, Y/N weighed her options carefully. She could tell him the real reason why she wanted him here, needed him here just as much as he needed to be here, but that risked him bolting right out the door. She could lie to him, give him some other reason, but he’d see right through that. Or she could keep this argument going until it was over and see where that left them. She took a deep breath and shut her eyes before opening her mouth to speak. 

“Because I’m in love with you, Harry. I don’t know when it happened, or why, but I love you. That’s why I want to stay here.” 

Silence filled the room as they both took in what she said, only the sound of their breathing echoing off the walls. 

“Are you serious?” He finally asked, studying her face carefully. All she could give him back was a nod, too scared of the repercussions of speaking right now.

He must have seen something in her face, because suddenly he was rounding the table that had been separating them and approaching her quickly. She watched him move closer and closer until suddenly, his lips were on hers. 

Y/N felt every nerve ending explode when his lips devoured hers, never thinking she would ever share a moment like this with him. Carefully, her arms came up so her hands could wrap themselves in his shirt while his held her cheeks between them gently. Neither of them were sure how long they stayed like that, standing in the kitchen devouring each other, but when they pulled away they were both panting. 

Harry rested his forehead against hers, gently kissing her lips one last time before saying, “I love you, too.” 

---

2006 

---

Eight years. From that moment on, the pair of them had been together for eight years. Eight years filled with the good and the bad, the happy and the sad, but most of all, filled with an undeniable, unbreakable love that they shared for each other. 

In those years, there had been weddings and children, some of those milestones being theirs. They had gotten married just two years after their confession, not wanting to waste anymore time than they already had. And a year after that came their first child, a son named James Sirius Potter that was the light of their lives. 

And in those years, Harry had grown into the man that she always knew he would be. He was stable, had a job, and was still healing, albeit doing much better now than when he had shown up at her doorstep disheveled and in tears. He was the most loving husband and was completely smitten with his child, becoming the parent that he had always wanted. 

The three of them were out at Diagonalley, a place that Harry was happy to have introduced Y/N to years ago and was elated to go there as a family now. They were eating ice cream at Florean Fortescue's when Harry saw an unmistakable flash of red pass by, stop, and come back around. 

“Hi,” he heard awkwardly from behind him, causing his head to turn around to look at the source of it.  

And there was Ginny Weasley in all her glory. A chaser for the Hollyhead Harpies now, and looked the roll too. 

Harry immediately jumped into a quick reintroduction, knowing Y/N hadn’t had the time to have a proper one at there own wedding which, curiously, Ginny had ducked out early from. After a brief, and rather awkward, catch-up between the couple and his former girlfriend, Ginny made her move. 

“Harry, take a walk with me?” She asked, addressing only him now. 

After a quick nod from Y/N, who was occupied with James regardless, Harry took his leave to begin walking through the streets with his ex lover. As they began walking, the routine pleasantries were exchanged before Harry turned to her with an expectant glance, one that asked her ‘What are we doing here?’ without having to say the words. 

“Look,” she began with a resigned sigh, “I’m sorry if I’m interrupting your day but I just wanted to apologize for the way things ended between us back then. It was unfair of me to push you out like that and it’s been eating at me for a while now, and I just hope we can at least be friends now.” 

“I appreciate that, and you’re forgiven. But I’ve clearly moved on and I’m happy now. I can only hope the same for you,” he told her honestly. 

She gave him a forced smile and a nod before excusing him to get back on with his day, nothing more to say to him than what she already did. 

She watched as he walked away from the window of the shop they had been in. Watched him walk back to his family and back into her arms. Something that could have been hers if she hadn’t been stubborn and angry at the end of the war. 

She watched as Harry pulled his son into his arms, hoisting him up and laughing with his wife before placing a loving kiss to her lips. That could have been all hers. Should have been, she thought to herself bitterly. 

It took everything inside of her to stop watching him with his happy little family and finally turned away from the window, leaving Diagonalley and hopefully any thoughts of rekindling things with him behind. She knew it was impossible now, but she had always held out some hope in her heart for him. 

But as she apparated away, she could feel her heart break for what could have been. What could have been if she hadn’t been so cold to him eight years ago.

[melzula]

Come What May

third and final installment of the Fire Lilies series

pairing: Zuko x Princess!reader

warnings: fluff, angst, some mean Zuko, forbidden lovers au

notes: thank you all for the love & support you’ve given this series. although it’s over, if you still have any questions or are curious about what happens to Zuko and the Princess along the way feel free to ask me and I’ll be happy to elaborate! enjoy!

summary: you put your trust in Zuko and agree to run away with him. But have you made the right choice?

part one | part two

“I’ve been challenged to an Agni Kai.”

“I’m engaged.”

The two of you stare at each other stunned, eyes wide and stomachs immediately filling with dread.

“What?” Zuko breathes quietly. His voice is barley above a whisper and he refuses to make eye contact with you, but you don’t miss the way his body begins to tremble with emotion.

“With my father gone and my mother growing older I need someone to provide and take care of me,” you explain weakly with guilt present upon your features. “I’ve been given away to the son of my father’s most trusted advisor.”

Zuko’s eyes widen in horror as you carefully tug the collar of your coat away from your neck to reveal your betrothal necklace. The jewelry rests daintily against your skin, the carved stone almost shimmering underneath the light that reflects across the ice that surrounds you, and it takes every fiber of his being to restrain himself from ripping the thing right off of you. You were meant to be his fiancé, his wife, and yet here you were claiming to be the promised bride of a boy who wasn’t Zuko. A part of him felt sick, and though he knew it was beyond your control he couldn’t help but feel betrayed.

“Tell me you’re not going to marry him,” Zuko demands, his voice calm and unwavering despite his aggravated state.

“Zuko...”

“Tell me you’re not,” he urges you now as he grasps at your forearms and pulls you closer to him. If you didn’t know any better you’d assume he was furious by the way he was holding you, but in reality he was just desperate and afraid. “Y/n, tell me.”

“It’s not that easy,” you try to reason, “it wasn’t my choice.”

“Exactly, it wasn’t your choice! So don’t marry him!” Zuko insists firmly.

“If I don’t marry him I risk bringing dishonor to my family and to my people. I’m the Princess, Zu. Even if I tried to say no it wouldn’t matter. Becoming a wife to a member of our tribe is part of my duty as Princess. I’m so sorry.”

Your heart aches for Zuko as he slowly removes himself from you, and both of you choose to ignore the handprints that have been charred into the fabric of your coat from where he had once grabbed you. He was good at controlling his temper around you, but his temperature was a completely different story; it was a wonder that he hadn’t somehow burnt you yet.

“What about your Agni Kai?” You press gently, taking one of his hands in both of yours before bringing it close to your chest and over your heart. A small sigh accompanied by a breath of fire escapes Zuko at the action and warms your cool cheeks.

”One of the war generals at the council threatened your life,” Zuko explains dully. You squeeze his hand tightly in response. “I spoke out of turn in your defense, and now I’ll have to duel him. I know I can take him, but what I can’t take is someone who isn’t me being able to call themselves your husband.”

“I’ll always be yours, Zuko.” He says nothing as you wind your arms around his torso and nuzzle your face against his chest, but he can’t help himself from returning your embrace and holding you impossibly tight against him.

“Then run away with me,” he says. A small gasp escapes you as you pull away to look up at him with wide eyes.

“Run away?”

“Yes, run away. As soon as the Agni Kai is over and I win, I’ll come get you and we can leave. We’ll go wherever you’d like, it doesn’t matter as long as we’re together. Please, Princess.”

“I... I’ve heard Ba Sing Se is the place people go to get a fresh start,” you reply with an uneasy smile. Zuko rewards you with a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“We’ll leave in three days. Meet me by the docks at midnight and bring only what you need,” he instructs before gently cupping your face in his hands. “We’re going to be so happy together, y/n.”

You smile as he pulls you in for a passionate kiss, but you can’t help the uneasiness that stirs in the pit of your stomach. The thought of running away with Zuko is exhilarating, yet something in the back of your mind is begging you not to go, warning you that things will not be as you planned them to be. But your body succumbs to the sensation of Zuko’s lips against your own, and before you can stop it you find yourself sinking further and further into his warmth.

~~~

It’s not easy having to turn your back on your people and leave the only life you’ve ever known behind, but the journey that lies ahead of you is enough to convince you that leaving the Southern Water Tribe behind is for the best. You’d never be happy in a marriage with someone you didn’t love, and you’d forever resent your parents and your people from keeping you tied down to one place forever. You would be happy with Zuko, there’d be many new sights to see and so many new experiences to have. It was for the best.

You arrive at the docks by midnight per Zuko’s instructions, a backpack full of what little belongings you could bring along with you resting upon your shoulders. This is most likely the last time you’ll ever see the South Pole again and a sense of bitter sweetness washes over you as you take one final look at your home. When the sun rises your mother will find the note you’ve left behind and Princess y/n of the Southern Water Tribe will be no more.

A ship slowly emerges from the distance, the Fire Nation emblem displayed proudly for all to see, and nervous excitement tingles through your body as you prepare to leave your home once and for all.

The Zuko that descends from the ramp of the ship to greet you is not the same Zuko you had seen just a few days ago. The boy before you now has completely transformed both physically and emotionally. The long hair you loved to comb your hands through so much is gone with only a ponytail of hair remaining at the back of his head. You try not to stare at the patch tied securely around his head and over his left eye in fear of upsetting your boyfriend, but he doesn’t even bother to explain it.

When he approaches you it is with purpose, a seriousness and sense of formality that had never been there before- not when it came to you. There’s a coldness to him that frightens you, but you do your best not to show it. Something is wrong, you know this, your superstitions had warned you so, but until you find out what it is you will do your best to act as if everything is fine. You offer him a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes, and Zuko doesn’t meet your gaze.

You watch with bated breath as he reaches out and tugs your collar down to reveal the betrothal necklace around your neck.

“Why are you still wearing this?”

“I was in a rush and forgot to take it off,” you explain quickly. Zuko stares at you for only a moment before quickly emitting a heat from his palm so great it melts the carved stone of your necklace right off. The choker that held the stone falls limply from your neck and onto the snow below you. You’re bewildered by such a harsh action from the boy who had always treated you with the utmost care and respect. A part of you wanted to turn around and run back home to your mother, but you knew there had to be a reason for Zuko’s sudden change, and so you stay.

“Let’s go,” Zuko says gruffly, taking your bag from your shoulders in one hand and holding your hand in the other as he guides you up the ramp and onto the ship.

He stands beside you with an arm around your waist as the ship pulls away from the docks and out into the open sea. Your home grows smaller and smaller until you’re no longer able to see it, and then it is just you and Zuko together in silence.

“You’re going to be happy with me,” he says quietly, but the statement does nothing to ease your nerves. “It’s late, you need your rest. I’ll escort you to your quarters.”

You say nothing as he guides you to the ship’s deck below, only glancing once at the moon before you before the night sky is replaced with a steel roof over your head.

~~~

Zuko doesn’t tell you much about the Agni Kai; you’ve learned it’s best not to bring it up. But from the vague answers he’s given you along with the tiny details his Uncle has let slip out, you find out that Zuko had not won the challenge and was now an outsider of sorts to the Fire Nation. But that shouldn’t matter now considering you both had wanted to run away, right?

You have separate quarters on the ship, but you always find yourself winding up in Zuko’s bed. Homesickness hits you more often than you had presumed, and Zuko is the only warmth you find in your new life abroad. You hope that will change once you settle down in Ba Sing Se. The thought always bring a sense of comfort to you- the idea of starting over, settling in a new home, eventually getting married, and having children are images that keep you sane on the moving metal death trap.

When you wake you find that the spot beside you in bed is empty and cold, proof that Zuko has been gone for a long while now. With a sigh you force yourself up and ready yourself for the day ahead. If your calculations aren’t off and if you read the map correctly, you should be arriving in the east end of Earth Kingdom some time today.

However, when you ascend onto the top deck you find that you are nowhere near Earth Kingdom territory at all. The air is still frigid from the cold, and you’re regretting not bringing a coat up with you to wear.

It is Iroh who notices your trembling form first, immediately sitting you down at his tea table and calling for one of the crew members nearby to fetch you a blanket.

“Zuko, the poor Princess is freezing,” Iroh states whilst pouring you a nice, warm cup of tea. “Please forgive my nephew for his lack of hospitality.“

You only give the General a weak smile in response as you quietly sip your tea. A warm blanket wraps itself around your shoulders accompanied by a chaste kiss to your cheek.

“Why is it so cold?” You frown, glancing up at Zuko who stands before you. “I thought we’d be near the Earth Kingdom by now.”

Iroh guilty looks away from the two of you and quietly excuses himself in order to give you privacy. Zuko is silent for a long while.

“We’re not going to the Earth Kingdom,” he replies bluntly.

“But what about Ba Sing Se?”

“I have to tie up a few loose ends before we can settle down together. But don’t be sad, Princess. I’m sure you’ll like where we’re going instead.”

It’s then that you truly notice your surroundings, the familiar gray skies and calm ocean waters, the frigid temperatures. You’re going back home.

“The South Pole? But that can’t be!” You exclaim. “I just ran away and now you’re taking me back?”

“We’re not going there for you,” Zuko responds harshly. “They have something that I want.”

“I don’t understand...” you frown, rising from your seat at the table to meet Zuko’s fiery gaze.

“I wouldn’t expect you to,” he mutters, brushing past you in order to stand along the railing of the ship.

“Zuko, if we go back there’s a chance my people will try to take me away from you. They’ll blame you for my disappearance, returning would be nothing but trouble. What could the South Pole possibly have to make you go back?!”

You love Zuko with all of your heart, you really do. But if you had known the severity of the situation you’d find yourself in once you decided to run away with him, you would have listened to the voice at the back of your head that begged you not to go. But now, as the banished prince turns back to meet your eyes, you realize that it’s much too late.

“Your people are hiding the Avatar.”

| tags: @titaniafire @dekahg @emberislandplayers @kikaninchen-2 @multi-fandomstan @eridanuswave @royahllty @lozzybowe @izzieserra @melacholy @music-geek19 @thia-aep @thyunnamed @kittenthekat1234567890 @haylaansmi @nataliahaslosthershit @coldlilheart |

[eliemo]

Purple Skirt

Summary: Patton and Logan look amazing in their skirts, but Virgil knows he doesn’t get the same freedom when it comes to clothing. 

TWs: past abuse, past gaslighting, self esteem issues

Notes: Thank you to @self-taught-mess​ for giving me the idea to make the skirts angsty. Sympathetic everyone. Taglist at the end

Masterpost

The first time he’d been able to even look at a skirt without wanting to throw up was when Patton had come bouncing down the stairs, looking absolutely delighted in his new suspenders skirt, and Virgil had smiled along with him without even thinking about the memories. 

He was so happy and radiant and god Virgil wished he could do the same. The idea of wearing a skirt around the mindscape, never giving it a second thought, allowing himself to be comfortable and confident like Patton could be was...amazing. 

Logan had donned a skirt a couple weeks later, wearing it as casually as any other outfit, and he’d barely batted an eye when they had all jumped up to compliment him. 

They were all so...comfortable with it. And of course they were, they were allowed to be. They deserved to be. Everyone was, except Virgil. He knew that. 

Which is why he had no idea what had possessed him to start wearing a skirt in the privacy of his own room. 

It was a horrible idea, and his hands started shaking every time he shut his door and put on the dark purple skirt, but...but he liked it. He liked wearing skirts, and the light side’s outfits had reminded him of that. 

He’d tried to wear skirts a few years ago, but the Others had very quickly shut that down, drilling into his brain how selfish and horrible it was to even consider outfits like that an option. 

Anyone else could wear a skirt. Anyone else could wear whatever they wanted. But Virgil didn’t have that right. Virgil was disgusting and useless, and he didn’t deserve that comfort. 

Besides, they looked horrible on him. He didn’t need to look any more pathetic than he already was. He’d been mocked and beaten and screamed at for forcing other people to see him like that, for thinking for a second that it had been remotely acceptable. They’d made themselves very clear, and they hadn’t stopped until Virgil had understood. Anxiety didn’t get to wear skirts. 

Now...now he knew he wouldn’t be beaten if he was caught in a skirt. He knew by now not to assume his family would hurt him, especially not over something so small. 

But he’d still be told off. He knew he wasn’t supposed to be wearing something like this, knew it was disgusting of him to even try. Patton and Logan looked amazing but Virgil was...well, Virgil. 

Still, after seeing Logan and Patton’s skirts he hadn’t been able to help himself. He was careful about it, only changing once a week at most with his door locked, always when he was sure he’d have time to himself where no one would come looking. 

The first few times, he couldn’t look at himself in the mirror, taunts, hate, and repulsion echoing in his head every second the skirt was on. He hadn’t been able to keep it on for more than five minutes. 

But recently, he’d started to feel a bit more comfortable. He knew it wasn’t ok, knew better than to risk letting anyone see him, but...with no one around to tell him how disgusting he looked, he allowed himself a few glances in the mirror, and let himself keep it on for longer. 

It was comforting, freeing, and...maybe if it was anyone else, it might actually look good. 

He should have known better than to drop his guard like that.

Virgil had put his skirt on about half an hour ago, closing himself off in his room until dinner, his usual ripped jeans laid out for him to quickly slip on before heading back downstairs. 

He’d gotten too comfortable- too relaxed, lounging on his bed with his music playing and his eyes slipped shut and his head went foggy, losing track of time completely.  

“You in there, Hot Topic?” Roman’s call and gentle knocking didn’t startle Virgil like it usually would, and he groggily lifted his head from the pillow, slipping off his headphones. “Can I come in?” 

Virgil rubbed sleep from his eyes, pushed himself up on the bed, and waved a hand to unlock his door without a second thought. 

He then immediately realized his mistake as soon as the handle started to turn. Shit shit shit--

He scrambled off the bed, suddenly wide awake as his feet hit the carpeted floor, but he didn’t have a chance to get anywhere to hide before Roman was standing in the doorway, eyes going wide. 

For a split second, Virgil let himself be overtaken by dangerous, desperate hope. The light sides had pleasantly surprised him so many times already- it was ok for him to make mistakes, it was fine if he dropped something or made a loud noise or talked too much- so maybe...maybe this was ok too? 

But then Roman opened his mouth, and old instinct and far too familiar fear took over. 

“Sorry,” Virgil blurted as he shrank back, wrapping his arms around himself. “I didn’t...s-sorry, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to--”

“Wait, what?” Roman stepped closer, and Virgil internally cursed himself for flinching. This wasn’t like last time, this wasn’t like last time. “Virgil. Why’re you sorry?” 

He shrugged, suddenly hyper aware of the way the plaid skirt hugged his waist, draping just above the knee to show off the black and white striped stockings. He found himself absently tugging at the end of the material. 

“I...I’m not--” he cut himself off when his voice grew unsteady, swallowing past the lump in his throat. “I’m not supposed to, but I- I wasn’t going to leave the room. I know I- that I can’t--” 

“Oh, Virgil of course you can.” Roman’s voice was soft, always so genuine, and this time Virgil didn’t flinch back when the Prince took another step. “You look amazing.”

Virgil’s shoulders hunched on instinct, and he scrambled to figure out if that was sarcasm in the Prince’s tone, because he’d been expecting something far more hurtful. 

“I...you don’t have to, I was just- it was stupid. I- I forgot I was wearing it, I’m sorry.” 

“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” Roman said, but his smile suddenly dropped. “Oh, Stormcloud you’re shaking.” 

Oh. Virgil hadn’t even realized how bad he’d started trembling, too scared to meet Roman’s eyes despite them radiating nothing but kindness. 

“Hey.” The Prince held out his hands, and Virgil risked a cautious glance up from the floor. “Come here?” 

Virgil let his shoulders drop, but his defenses were still raised, always waiting for the other shoe to drop, always expecting some kind of trap or trick. He still couldn’t help it. 

But he let himself close the distance between them and fall into Roman’s chest, letting out a shuddering breath as strong arms wrapped around him, gentle but secure. 

“You can wear a skirt, Virgil,” Roman said. “Did you...think I would be angry with you?” 

Virgil couldn’t bring himself to speak again just yet. All he was able to manage was a small nod against Roman’s chest. 

“Why?” he asked, voice still soft but Virgil thought there was a hint of something defensive. “I wear skirts all the time. So does Remus. And Patton and Logan have--” 

“I know.” Virgil took another small, trembling breath. “And you- you all look great. Obviously. Everyone can- everyone can wear whatever, I’m not...I just...can’t.” 

Roman pulled back slightly, but Virgil couldn’t meet his gaze. “Why not?” 

“Because I’m...I’m gross, and I shouldn’t...I can’t. Not like you guys, it’s not...it’s not allowed. It’s...probably bad for my influence over Thomas or something.. Plus I, uh- I look horrible in most things anyway, so…”

He trailed off, and his heart sank when he caught a glimpse of the look on Roman’s face. He was watching Virgil intently, head tilted slightly, eyes filled with something sad and...and angry. 

“I’m- I’m sorry.” Shit, he’d been talking too long hadn’t he? He was being annoying and he was still making Roman see him like this and he probably just wanted Virgil to shut up already. “I didn’t mean to ramble, I’m sorry, I’ll change and then--” 

“I’m not upset with you,” Roman said, and Virgil quickly fell silent. “This is...just one more thing they took away from you, isn’t it?” 

Virgil shrugged, back to wrapping his arms around himself like a useless shield. He felt tears spring to the corners of his eyes, face burning hot, and he quickly blinked them away. 

“I guess,” he muttered. “They didn’t really want me to...like myself. It’s still...hard, you know? To get their voices out of my head.” 

He tried not to think about it. He tried to block out the vicious, horrible things that had been said to him every time they’d raised a fist, their words just as powerful as a punch. 

They’d hurt him so bad, and they’d worked so hard to make him hate himself as much as they hated him. 

He wasn’t going to roll over and accept that. Not anymore. He’d get better now that he had people who loved him by his side. It just...god, it was so hard sometimes.  

“I know,” Roman said, and Virgil didn’t think he’d ever heard the Prince sound so grim. “Trust me, Virgil. I know.” 

Virgil didn’t doubt that. He dug his foot into the carpet, doing what he could to remind himself that Roman wasn't upset. The prince wasn’t disgusted by him, he didn’t think he was pathetic, and he wasn’t angry that Virgil was making him look at Anxiety longer than necessary. 

“Yeah, well. Self esteem is overrated.” 

Roman laughed, but he was still staring at Virgil with something sorrowful and uncertain. “Maybe. But if it helps, I think you look absolutely stunning.” 

“What?” Virgil scoffed, even as he was sure his face was bright red by now. “N-no, I...I don’t. Look, I can just change--” 

“Virgil, have you even looked in the mirror?” Roman asked, and Virgil tried not to flinch because those words had been said to him before, just under very different circumstances. 

But Roman was suddenly taking his hands, dragging him (gently, of course) into Virgil’s bathroom, standing in front of the sink and looking in the mirror. It was something he tried to avoid as much as possible, but with the way Princey was beaming at him...for the moment he couldn’t find it in himself to be so apprehensive. 

“How long have you had this?” Roman asked, and at Virgil’s blank stare he quickly gestured to the outfit- an older black hoodie over a white shirt, black and white stockings, and the plaid purple skirt. 

“Uh...I don’t know, it’s just some clothes. The skirt is kinda new, though. I had to make a new one after my old one was…” destroyed, was really the only accurate way to put it. And they hadn’t even waited for him to take it off. Somehow he really doubted that would make Roman feel any better. “Lost. It’s...it’s pretty stupid, I know.” 

“Not at all,” Princey said, and Virgil didn’t know why he couldn’t just give in and believe him. “Just look! You’re beautiful!” 

He seemed so excited, eyes brimming with awe and eagerness, Virgil couldn’t bring himself to protest. Even when he was struck with the familiar urge to avert his gaze as soon as he came face to face with his own reflection. 

It was just...him. Nothing special, nothing particularly good, just plain, dark and brooding Anxiety. But he’d been taught, over and over and over again, to hate every little thing about himself. Just like everyone else already did. 

But that had been a lie, just like nearly everything else he’d been told. The people who mattered didn’t hate him, and they did much more than tolerate his presence. 

He just...didn’t know where to start when it came to liking anything about himself. 

Luckily, Roman already seemed to be two steps ahead of him. 

“You are not disgusting,” he said, completely catching Virgil off guard. “And I swear, if I could I would run my sword through every single person who ever put that thought in your head.” 

“Please don’t.” It came out a whisper, soft and pathetic. They’d had this talk before, countless times, but each time it sent terror shooting through his chest. “Please--” 

“I know. As much as I want to make them suffer...I would never betray your trust by doing something so selfish. It will always be up to you whether or not I go after them.” 

Virgil’s shoulders dropped, relief just as dizzying as the last few times. “Thank you.” 

“But I mean it,” Roman said. “They were so, so wrong. We think you’re wonderful, Virgil. We...we all think you’re amazing. I know you don’t see it, but- but we do. And every day you shine just a little bit brighter.” 

“Princey--” 

“Did you know Patton couldn’t stop crying that first night we found out about what happened to you? He kept it together right until you fell asleep and then he...Logan held him until he exhausted himself. And Lo was...we were all so angry.” 

Virgil couldn’t turn around, instead staring at Roman’s reflection through the mirror. “I...I’m--” 

“This isn’t a guilt thing,” Roman clarified. “I’m saying we didn’t understand. We still don’t. How someone could look at you and not see someone incredible. You’ve been through so much and we’re...I’m honored to get to meet the person you always deserved to be.” 

And, yeah Virgil was definitely going to cry now, fresh tears just replacing the ones he wiped away. But maybe that was ok, because Roman’s eyes were red and watery now too. 

“Back to the point,” Roman said with a sheepish smile, rubbing the back of his neck. “You can wear what you want. Always. My only request is that you don’t outshine me.” 

Virgil snorted, even as uncertainty and apprehension still rested heavy on his chest. “I don’t think you have to worry about that, Princey.” 

“Well, I stand by what I said,” Roman announced, clapping his hands together. “You look stunning. And I’m sure the others will agree. Patton will be thrilled to have another skirt-buddy. Why don’t we head down so you can--” 

“No!” 

Roman had already started for the bathroom door, stopping in his tracks and spinning back around at Virgil’s outburst. He hadn’t meant to raise his voice, but…

But the terror that had hit when Roman had caught him just moments before, the disgust with himself that had just been starting to dissipate a bit...all of it hit full force again at the thought of going downstairs like this. 

He wanted to. He wanted to know he could be comfortable and learn to feel ok again so bad. But he couldn’t. There was no way. 

“Virge--” 

“I can’t.” And now he was going to upset Roman, after the Prince had tried so hard to get Virgil to stop being such a coward. And now he probably was going to be angry- or disappointed at the very least. Virgil wasn’t sure which one was worse. “I’m sorry, sorry it’s just--” 

“Hey, it’s ok,” Roman said, with way more patience than Virgil deserved at this point. “I’m not going to force you out of your comfort zone, Emo. Prince’s honor. We go at your pace, and your pace only.” 

 Virgil stuffed his hands into the hoodie pockets, fighting the urge to pull up his hood. “You’re not, like...mad?” 

“I’m not mad, Virgil,” Roman assured, and smiled. “Take your time. I’ll be here whenever you’re ready.” 

“Ok.” Virgil let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, shaky and small, and once again he wondered what he’d done to deserve this much kindness. “Ok. I’m uh, I’m gonna change. I’ll be down for dinner soon.” 

There was no annoyance, no frustration or exasperated eyeroll. Just a nod from Roman and another gentle, understanding smile as the Prince slipped through the door and left him alone again. 

For a moment, standing in his silent bedroom with his black jeans in his hands, Virgil considered keeping the skirt on. 

He wasn’t...he wasn’t a monster. He wasn’t the selfish, horrible, grotesque villain he’d been taught to think he was. 

He had the right to say, do, and wear whatever he wanted. He was just as free to exist and express himself as anyone else in the mindscape. 

It was what his family told him, over and over and over again. And it was what he was trying desperately to begin to believe. 

But he was almost positive that if he tried to step outside right now he’d have a panic attack before he reached the bottom of the stairs. So he took another deep breath, steadied himself, and changed back into his regular jeans and oversized hoodie. 

He wasn’t going to suddenly lose the right to recover if he took his time. There wasn’t a time limit to all of this. And like Roman had said, they’d be there when he was ready.

-- 

It was another few weeks before Roman heard a knock on his door, timid and familiar enough for him to know it was Virgil before he pulled it open with a smile. 

The anxious side was standing in the hall, arms wrapped around his middle as he shifted his weight from foot to foot, shoulders hunched in a defensive stand and...oh. 

He was wearing the outfit Roman hadn’t gotten the chance to see since their talk in his room, complete with the plaid purple skirt that the Prince thought looked absolutely perfect on Virgil. 

“Good afternoon,” Roman said, fighting to sound as nonchalant as possible, all too aware of how big of a deal this was. “You heading downstairs?” 

Virgil took a minute before nodding slowly, chewing incessantly on his lip, still fidgeting in the doorway. 

“Alright,” Roman said, hoping it was at least a little encouraging. “Is there anything I can do to help?” 

He could see Virgil trying to compose himself, recognized the slow, deliberate breaths he was taking in an effort to fight against rising panic, and Roman’s heart throbbed at the watery, scared look in his eyes. 

“Could you…” Virgil trailed off, squeezing his hands into fists. “Could you come with me? Please?” 

Roman softened, and stepped into the hallway. “Of course.” 

It wasn’t until he held out a hand, letting Virgil latch onto him and squeeze as tight as he needed, that he realized just how bad the anxious side was shaking. Just like the first time Roman had seen him in the skirt. 

As nice as it looked, it was a fairly simple outfit. Roman had worn far more extravagant things, and other than excited compliments from Patton, no one really looked twice. 

He couldn’t imagine what the others had done to make Virgil so afraid of being seen in a skirt. 

But this wasn’t the time for that. Roman forcefully pushed his anger back down, and squeezed Virgil’s hand in response. He didn’t stop trembling the entire trip down the hall. 

When they reached the top of the stairs, Patton and Logan’s voices began to filter in from the living room, and Virgil suddenly stopped, breath catching in his throat, looking to Roman with wide, panicked eyes. 

“What...what if they--” 

“Nothing bad will happen to you,” Roman said. “I swear it. But we don’t have to do this today if you aren’t ready. Like I said, we go at your pace.” 

Virgil’s eyes were glued to the stairs, tense and unmoving, clutching Roman’s hand like he thought it would be ripped away at any moment. 

Roman was fully willing to stand here for hours if it meant Virgil would be comfortable, but it only took a few minutes for his breathing to even out slightly, some of the tension in his shoulders coming undone. 

“Ok,” he said softly, probably more to himself than to Roman. “Ok. I’m...I’m good. I’m sorry.”

“No need to be sorry,” Roman promised. “Your pace, Virge. I’m here.” 

They made their way down the steps together, slow and steady, Roman letting Virgil move as fast as he wanted, stopping to take a few seconds to breathe whenever he needed. 

Logan and Patton were lounged on the couch by the time they made it to the living room, the logical side lost to the contents of the open book on his lap. 

Virgil suddenly froze in the doorway, looking up at Roman like he thought the Prince was the only thing standing in between him and certain death. 

And then Patton glanced up at the movement, and Roman couldn’t remember the last time the moral side had smiled so wide. 

“Oh my gosh! Virgil, you look so good!” 

Virgil automatically flinched against Roman’s side as Patton jumped up from the couch, but Roman could see surprise battling with doubt and confusion as he took in Patton’s happiness. 

“I...yeah?” 

And in the middle of it all, a small flicker of hope. 

“Yes!” Patton practically squealed. He rushed over to take Virgil’s hands, and Roman stepped away with one last reassuring smile. “I didn’t know you liked skirts, kiddo! You should have told me!” 

Virgil was searching Patton’s face, probably making sure there wasn’t any hint of hidden disgust in his words, before relaxing ever so slightly. “Yeah, I...wanted to try it, I guess.” 

“You look so pretty!” Patton was bouncing up and down now, Virgil’s hands still in his. “Don’t you think so, Logan?” 

Roman glanced at the logical side still seated on the couch, unsurprised to find a look of pride and quiet understanding.

“He does,” Logan agreed. “The outfit itself is aesthetically pleasing, and the colors suit you very well, Virgil. I am glad you were comfortable enough to try something new.” 

Virgil shrugged, cheeks turning a light shade of red, briefly meeting Roman’s eyes with a small, thankful smile. “It’s...it’s whatever.” 

“We should have a skirt day!” Patton announced suddenly. “Can we have a skirt day?” 

Logan raised an eyebrow. “A...skirt day?” 

“We can all wear our skirts together! Do you think we could get Janus and Remus to join us?” 

Roman chuckled, beyond relieved for the small smile now beginning to overtake Virgil’s features. “I’m sure you could, padre.” 

“Patton, it is simply an article of clothing,” Logan pointed out, completely lost. “Why do we need an entire day dedicated to wearing it?” 

“Because! It’s--” 

Patton was suddenly interrupted by Virgil suddenly wrapping his arms around the moral side, pulling him close in a tight, almost desperate embrace. 

Virgil so rarely was the one to initiate physical contact, as much as he needed it, always terrified of being seen as needy or ungrateful. From what Roman had gathered, Virgil had been told he was too disgusting to be touched in any way other than violent. 

“Oh, kiddo.” Despite his obvious surprise, Patton didn’t hesitate before hugging back. “Can you tell me what’s wrong, honey? Did I upset you?” 

Virgil shook his head, still clutching Patton’s shirt as he pulled back. Roman wanted so badly to rush over and hold him close when he realized Virgil was smiling through his tears, so clearly overwhelmed but so so relieved. 

“No- no, it’s-” he took in a shuddering breath, struggling to get a hold of himself. “I’m...thank you. I just- I love you all so much.” 

And then he was covering his mouth with his hand, crying quietly as Patton gathered him back into his arms, squeezing his eyes shut but relaxing further when the other two sides hurried to join the embrace. 

Roman couldn’t even imagine the weight that had just been lifted from Virgil’s shoulders, how rewarding acceptance without question must have felt. Especially when for him, every step forward was like climbing a mountain. 

He caught Logan sending him a questioning look, but he quickly shook his head. Later. They could talk it out later. Right now…

Right now Virgil just needed the reassurance. And Roman knew they were all more than happy to remind him they would never get tired of giving it to him. 

Taglist: @self-taught-mess @itawalrus @mygenderisidiot @a-very-gay-raccoon @dawnfire7 @cr4zyart @ray-does-stuff @whydoifeeltheneedtoorganizestuff @bunny222  @the-blue-recluse @bisexualdisaster106 @basilthefourth @snowtrashowl @thefingergunsgirl @trashtm @stubbornness-and-spite @kieraelieson @alias290 @darkch1ld @craz-ewaters @damy-02 @frogdog145 @gattonero17 @madamedraconis @stoicpanther @@love-to-read02 @that-spider-fan-over-there @thatoneloudowl @rich-flower-17 @demigodbookdragon @i-gobymanynames @wyvern-tales @spoopyseason66 @gaylotusthatexists @my-life-is-an-artistic-mess @that-one-fander @alias290 @yalltookmyurlideas @theantisocialghost @dark-strange-daughter @joylessnightsky @nova-galexa @luckymasie @stayarmy321 @starsinger @unhygienic-andy-the-anon @deathdarknessdevils @d-rizzle83 @spoonfullofcrofters @sarcasmremovedsoul @bananabread123443 @alpacadraws @nonbinaryemonugget @espepspes @awesome-and-unique-username @starshinemoonglow @honeybonesvirgil @fandertrash24 @tracingstarlight @sanders-fanders @heartwitchhouse @major-disaster-enby @a-poor-anxious-baby @franticfandomfanatic @the3rdpansexualpanda @a-flying-gay @hermitcreature @darkle-elkrad @coaltail121 @i-really-like-dragons @blagi @the-daydreamers-rebellion

[ringmyheart]

Could you do a lookism gun x reader where he’s sweet to them kinda like Mira and Zack 🥺

“You really don’t have to do that…” 

The way your voice wavered betrayed your discomfited, guilt-ridden heart. You weren’t normally sheepish. Despite your weak-mannered protest, he continued to tie and knot the laces of your shoe below you. A low hum reverberated in his throat, and there was a gap in the conversation before he finished tying the laces into a bow, straightening his back but not necessarily standing yet. 

“It’s fine. If I didn’t notice, you might’ve tripped.” The corners of his lips didn’t lift or falter, yet his countenance was still sunny and bright. Internally, you swooned, your mouth falling into an uncertain line. It’s not that you didn’t like him, no. You just felt unnecessarily rueful for being the receiver of his kindness. It’s not that tying someone’s shoes was such a grandiose act, but when done by him, it was like a leap upwards from his usual nature. 

With him not having that many acquaintances or friends outside of work, you were somewhat his exposure to everything else, including anything non-business related. It felt odd for you to be this connection to the world outside of his, because you felt ill-suited for the job. 

It felt like you were anchoring him down, and that his likeliness was only infatuation formed from you making yourself unattainable. You wondered if that was the case, and if you ever reciprocated the action in full, if he’d end up leaving… 

The only way you could receive an answer was through actual application of this wonder in real life. Maybe, some distance would actually do the two of you good… 

He stood to full height by the time you’d finished the thought process of your internal plan, and stood idly, as if awaiting your instruction. You were always deciding what you two would do, or where you’d go, and you felt even more like an anchor; a deep, heavy one, weighing him done. 

With a nervous glance around the park, you gulped. “Uhm…” fiddling with your fingers, you mustered it out. “I think we should have some space in between us for a while…” 

Your gaze was downcast, and with the silence engulfing the both of you, you wondered what he was emoting. Anger? Frustration? Wonder? Sadness? 

“Space?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Space, like space? Or space, like distance?” 

“What’s the difference?” 

“Space is when we don’t really see each other. If you ask for space, I’d take it you want to cut contact and refrain from seeing each other for a while. Distance is when I simply distance myself from you.”

The words he’d used had a hard time processing, and you chose the option with the plainer explanation. “O-oh, Uh, distance, then.” 

He gazed upwards in thought, with a ‘hm’, before looking at you quizzically, like you were asking for some alien request. “...Why?” 

“I just - I need some distance to breathe for a while...” That was a lie. You saw him nod as it registered in his head. 

“Okay.” 

“I’m so- oh, okay?” Your visage snapped up to him in awe. That wasn’t the reaction you’d anticipated. 

He nodded, grabbing your fingers with his and lifting them up and down with his. “Okay. I’ll give you some distance. That’s no problem.” His tone was chivalrous, but his face was still idle. 

“Yeah, uhm-“ you weren’t sure where you were going to go with that sentence, which is why you were glad he’d began to walk away before he’d heard you utter it out. While he walked, his retreating form wasn’t slumped over, and there were no hints to him being upset over this. 

“...” Well, looked like the date was over now. It rubbed you the wrong way somewhat when he didn’t express any sorrow, or even annoyance, to the two of you separating. You guessed it was for the better.

You lifted your foot to turn heel and begin to leave, when you saw Gun suddenly stop and turn to face you from a distance. Lips parting curiously, you waited for him to maybe shout something, or maybe send you one last glare or smile before walking away, but… no. He just stood there. You two engaged in eye contact from meters away, him indifferent, you bewildered. 

With a twinkle, he winked and sent you a thumbs up, conveying nonchalance and a prideful, elated look at the same time. 

It dawned on you. ‘By space he thinks I mean literal distance! Like, a few feet away distance!’ Your arms flailed around you in confusion. ‘What? Why would I even request that?!’ 

Meanwhile, across the park, Gun stared at you. He had a hard time catching on to why you needed distance, but if you needed some air - and him being so near you was disrupting that, he has no objections. Plus, he was glad this was what you’d wanted; if it was space, he didn’t know what he would’ve done. 

Your arms dropped to your sides in fists, and you wondered what to do. Should you just continue the hang out…? You wondered how he’d misinterpreted it considering he was usually scarily able to catch on to everything. ‘Crap, I shouldn’t have used the word in between! This is my fault!’ 

At one point, he’d waved across to you from afar, but you were too engrossed in your thoughts to catch on. He sulked. 

You were going to go and clear this up, when you felt a hand on your shoulder from behind you, and turned to face three strangers - all dudes, one scrawny, the other two burly.

“Hey,” the middle one said, nodding over in the direction of Gun. “Is that guy your boyfriend?” They inspected him from over here. 

You felt a wave of heat rush to your face. Your hands came up to cup your cheeks, flustered. “Oh, no… it’s not like that!” You exclaimed. 

The three seemed to nod amongst themselves, and you realized why they were probably here. 

‘Oh, do they want to be friends with him-?!’ You beamed. ‘This is great! I was just thinking about how he’d probably like more friends outside of work!’ 

You grinned mischievously, happily ready to introduce them. ‘Cant let them know he’s kind of scary, I was off out by that when I first met him… I’ll make him seem super sweet!’ You glanced over at Gun over your shoulder with a glitter in your eyes. ‘I won’t ruin this for you!’ 

“Well then, is he your friend?” 

You nodded vigorously. “Yep! Friend! He’s a great friend. If anyone else happened to want to be friends with him, they’d be in for a great time!” You said, conspicuous. 

The three guys seemed pleased by your answers so far, and you felt like you were rocking it. “Hmm,” a sudden dark air surrounded you and the three guys, and finally a crooked smile curved his lips. “And this friend of yours - you guys close?”

“Hm, I’d say so.” This time, they didn’t seem too happy at your answer. You found it odd how the three men kept glancing from you to your pocket, avoiding remaining eye contact for prolonged periods of time and seemingly more invested in your pocket than you… but you brushed it off. 

“Does this guy brawl? Does he have a good fighting ability?” 

‘Don’t scare them off, (y/n)! If they know he fights, they might run away! Tell them he isn’t, and throw in a lie in there that paints him in a good light! Maybe say he has a book collection? That kind of stuff doesn’t make anyone seem off putting.’

Your fists came to your chest as you excitedly ranted about him in a positive light, the three guys waiting on the balls of their feet for your answer. His eyes briefly darted to your pocket again, and you asked yourself why - it was just your wallet in there. 

“No, he doesn’t have a good fighting capability at all! In fact, he’s really bad at it! He’d never get into a fight! But he does have-“ 

Rob. They were going to rob you. Why you finally realized it mid-sentence was beyond you, but the entire conversation recited itself in your head as well as their weird mannerisms, and you realized you were about to get mugged. 

You leaned down and tried to emit an aura as threatening as you possibly could, changing the course of your sentence suddenly. “-skills. A very particular set of skills. Skills that make him a-“ 

“Hahaha! So you figured it out, huh? Don’t think we’re so easily fooled, you already answered us!” The ringleader of the group, you assumed, chuckled, the pick in his mouth sticking up. “Too late to change your answer now. Doesn’t matter how much that guy likes you,” he pressed his hand against your shoulder and pushed you back, “there’s not a thing he can do now. Cough it up.” He made a come hither motion with his hand, meaning your wallet, and you pointed over your shoulder to Gun as a last resort. 

“You don’t wanna mess with that guy.” 

“Oh?” 

“Yeah, I’m serious - he kills people.” 

You whipped your head over your shoulder, turning to Gun with eyes screaming for help. He must’ve seen this all go down, right?! And he knew what the gait of someone looking to mug you was like, right?!

‘Cmon, show them the expression of someone ruthless, Gun!’ 

You waved at him, expression full of panic and terror. When his expression became dark thanks to the natural resting bitch face he had, and he waved back, surely they’d see it was true. Right? 

Meanwhile, across the park, Gun saw you pause your chatting with the three faceless people around you (albeit he was only fixated on you), just to wave at him. He raised his arm, and with an expression which screamed he was content and happy, he waved back. Earlier when he’d done it, you hadn’t reciprocated, so this made him giddy. He wondered what you were talking about... didn’t you need distance? 

And you watched, horrified, when the curve of his lips titled skyward slightly. 

‘He smiles?! Now he smiles?! If only I hadn’t asked for distance, this would’ve be happening…!’  A dark shadow swept across your expression. You were screwed. 

You cupped your mouth with your hands. “Gun! Heeeeellppp!”

Gun merely blinked. 

It seemed the distance you created between the two of you was far too great, for he couldn’t hear you. The robber behind you curled his fingers over your shoulder blade darkly, with a low chortle. 

You began to wonder if you could make it if you bolted to him, but didn’t think you had the speed in you. 

Eyes closed in a deep brooding, you weighed your options. You could break into a sprint, but if you didn’t make it in time you didn’t wanna take the chance. Even if you weren’t badly injured - being tackled mid-run because you were too slow... that’d just be way too embarrassing. 

Well, if you started running, surely he’d see and come help you out, right?

But was he fast enough? 

Your thoughts were interfered with a swift kick to your ankle, not enough to knock you over, but it certainly snapped your eyes back to the trio towering over you. 

“Well? You gonna give or what?”

“We aren’t gonna wait all day.” 

“Cmon, just give us your wallet and we can go! Hurry!” The last of the three seemed hasty, like he was wary for police officers or bystanders. 

You wished you’d had more time to think, but the pressure put on you felt dire. Like you had to come to a conclusion fast... 

Acting out on impulse, your hands defensively went to your pocket and clutched your wallet through the fabric. You narrowed your gaze. “No!” 

‘He gave my like half that money! Like hell I’m giving it.’ 

The one in the middle chortled dryly, and nodded his head. “Alright, alright - what’s your name, kiddo?” 

“Why?”

“Just spit it out, yeesh.” He scratched the back of his head in indignation. 

“... (Y/n).” 

“Okay, (y/n),” the lousy, crooked grin he’d placed on his lips fell suddenly, and he leaned towards you threateningly. “You think being stingy is cute? I’m gonna pluck your fucking eyes out.” His eyes were wide, and instilled terror. Your stance grew weaker, and you’d thought it was an exaggeration when people described someone being scared as “their legs shook,” but you were proven false when yours began to tremble beneath you. 

He grabbed the pick between his teeth and pulled it out, holding it with his index and middle finger and pointing it at you warningly. He spared his surroundings a glance, seeing if there was anyone around to witness besides your weak-willed (from your description), book-loving friend.

Not a single soul was present otherwise. 

You could hear the wind whistle in your head from the absolute silence and lack of people in the park, and at your lack of response (mostly due to fear,) he reiterated, placing one hand on your wavering shoulder, the other gliding his hand through the air towards you, the pick so close to you it confused your vision. You recoiled. 

“Can you hear me?! I said I’d pluck your fucking eyes out-!” 

A black blur obstructed your vision of the pick, originating from the side, and the situation progressed too quickly for you it to resonate with you. 

The pick held by your eye went flying, and with the absolute silence erupting in the atmosphere, you could hear it land on the ground beneath you. The leg Gun had used to kick it out of his hand was still lingering in the air, and the mugger grunted. 

“Yeah, I hear you all right. Loud and clear. Pluck their eyes out? (Y/n)?” He pointed to you with his thumb, “you wanna pluck their eyes out?” 

Gun grabbed the hand he had on your shoulder, and plucked it off with unnecessary strength, a fear tactic. 

The three were silent for a second, before the middle guy straightened up. “I’ve heard all about you, book-reader boyfriend. I’m not scared.” 

Gun’s brow crinkled with his grin - this time, lifted by a sadistic pleasure. “What a coincidence,” he bumped foreheads with him, “neither am I. I’ll fucking kill you.” 

The guy laughed in his face, and you saw him cringe at his breath in his face. “What are youuuuu gonna d-“ 

THUD

It was a rough collision when the robber fell into the ground, arms splashed out on either side of him, and by now your hands had thrown over your mouth in shock at the turn of events at least thrice. 

The bottom of Gun’s heel dug into the gaps between his ribs, and the guy wrapped his hand around his ankle fruitlessly. “You’re gonna get dirt on my shirt.” 

“You’re pretty unfazed.” He chimed. “You think I was kidding? Were you kidding when you said you were gonna pluck (y/n)’s eyes out? Huh? Huh?” 

Now face to face with Gun, who was previously GREATLY distanced, he noticed his black sclera, and scrutinizing gaze, and the scar which tore apart the skin around his brow. And upon seeing eyes which wanted to kill him, the guy below him shuddered. 

Gun’s foot lifted up, and then, a series of kicks were sent to his ribcage; and you saw him wheeze. He leaned down tauntingly, not pausing the flurry of attacks, with a large smile baring his teeth. “You wanna pluck their eyes out, huh?! I’d kill everyone in fucking Gangnam if you’d even tried!” He kept going, this time with more fervor in his kicks, and he began to press into the guys’ abdomen; and you winced behind him. 

“H-hey, it’s fine now...” you said, reaching a hand out to Gun from behind, but your words fell upon deaf ears. Eventually you decided it was your responsibility to intervene, seeing the other two robbers cower and the middle guy begin to lose consciousness with lack of oxygen. 

You threw your hands into Gun’s shoulders, and pulled him back. “Hey, it’s okay! If you keep going, you’re gonna kill them! You can’t have a criminal record, can you?” 

Gun turned to you, expression not shifting in the slightest upon seeing your face. “... I can cover it up. I have the money and resources.” He said with disdain directed to the three. 

“Well-“

“They were going to hurt you, weren’t they? Why are you interfering?” 

You huffed. “I just don’t want that for you.”

The other two watched fearfully when Gun turned to face you, the air around him still dark. And if their own leader couldn’t handle that guy, what would happen to you? Interrupting him in the middle of fighting? Pulling back that monster? 

It doesn’t matter how much a guy like that likes you, when they’re doing what they take joy in - shedding blood, it never ended well. 

They winced in preparation for whatever would happen next, expecting to see you go flying like their leader had. They shuddered, after that they’d be next... right?

“... Okay. Let’s go.” 

“WH-WHAAA?!” Their jaws dropped in unison when Gun pivoted on his heel, and began to walk, expecting you to follow behind him. However as soon as his foot stepped out, he faltered. 

“Ah. Ow.” He said with a dead voice. 

Your brow furrowed concernedly. “Are you okay?” 

Now by his side, you saw him glance at his ankle. “Yeah.” He cursed under his breath. “I think I twisted my ankle doing that... ah, shit.” He plainly groaned, no real hint to him being in any pain in his voice. 

“Are you gonna be alright? Oh, no.” You said, and he looked at you with a blank expression. 

“Yeah. You’re gonna have to help me, now...” 

You nodded. “Of course!” Frantically trying to hurry, you threw his arm under your shoulder and held onto it once successful, supporting his weight with your own and unaware of the mischievous twinkle in his eyes. 

The two watched shocked as him and you retreated so... casually, straitening their eyes at Gun. That bastard, the two thought in sync, his leg wasn’t injured at all. 

Whilst the two of you walked away - him limping, he apologized. “Sorry for coming so late.” 

Your eyes darted the opposite way of him, sheepish. “It’s fine... how did you not notice? I was clearly being mugged...”

“I was only focused on you. Of course I’m gonna smile if you wave at me... who do you think I am?” 

You felt hot in the face, and internally swooned, but externally huffed. “Oh... okay. W-well, that explains it, then. It’s fine. How did you end up finding out, then?” 

“Ah,” he said. “The keywords.” 

“Keywords?” 

He nodded. “Yeah. If I hear your name and a threat in the same sentence, of course I’m gonna notice. ‘I’m gonna pluck your eyes out, (y/n).’ (Y/n). Pluck your eyes out.” He looked up casually. “Of course I’m gonna come if I hear something like that.” 

You guffawed. “Wha- I screamed your name and you didn’t hear shit!” 

“It’s different when it’s your name.” When you sent him a glare, he shrugged. “I don’t know.” 

You signed. “... Thanks.” 

He blinked at you, before chuckling with a half smile. “Don’t mention it. Just don’t ask for space to breathe anymore. When you’re away from me, bad things could happen.” 

“U-Uh, yeah...” you scratched your cheek with your free hand. “I won’t anymore. Especially after today.” 

There was a natural lull in the conversation as you helped him home, until he simpered evilly. “Sooo... ‘book-reading boyfriend?’ Boyfriend?” 

From behind, like a happy dog with his tail wagging, even from the distance the two robbers could sense the elated feeling emanating from Gun. 

This was very fun to write nd I tried rlly hard to make their dynamic like zach’s and mira’s but can’t tell if I could. I rlly hope u liked it!! Thanks for the request 💘

[thegryffindorprincess]

Break Up Sex//Draco Malfoy x Reader sad smut

A/N: Hi Lovelies! Look who promised to post then had a break down (it me!) Anyway, here’s a super sad smut for you while I perfect Worthy part two!

Word count: 1,805

Set: Post War

Warnings: Unprotected sex 

Y/N Y/L/N lay on top of the emerald green sheets of the grand double bed that lay in the centre of the grand bedroom of Malfoy Manor, on her side, eyes pinned to the bed side table. Upon it lay a photo album, that she was stuck staring at as if in a trance, reluctant to pick it up. Her arms darted forward to grab the large, leather bound book as she lay it on the bed beside her, still not opening it as if she were afraid to look. The room was dark, joyless and cold, the hairs on her arms standing to attention, the blackness of the room only defeated by the small, orange candle stick that glowed from the same bed side table the book had previously resided on. The girl sighed deeply, turning to caress the silver writing that indented the green leather of the album, tracing the large note on the cover. 

“To my darling, love Draco.”

She shivered in the cold, wrapping the thin, silk night gown tighter around her body. Tracing the cover once more, noting the curves of the silver snake wound around the message, Y/N slipped her fingers into the album, flipping over the cover to reveal the first page. The unwavering frown that painted her face upturned slightly as she watched the moving picture sitting in her hands. Herself and Draco’s smiling faces beamed back up at her, the eleven year old versions of themselves waving around their Slytherin scarves on the front steps of Hogwarts- the first time they met. She flipped the page over to reveal two photographs of them, this time at the very manor she was laid in at the moment. The top one was of them larking around in the study, taken by Dobby, the bottom of them laying in the thick grass of the gardens, taken by Narcissa. Her fingers stroked their innocent faces as they lay together, hands ghosting eachother. On the page opposite was Y/N and Draco before the Yule Ball, her emerald green dress sparkling through the photo, the picture below depicting their first kiss. Draco had written in his neat, cursive writing next to this one: “when you became mine” the green ink swirling gently next to the picture. Y/N smiled a little more at that, dreaming of how simple everything seemed. The next few pages were littered with them at parties, in matching couples Halloween costumes, their first official Christmas and the many famous Malfoy Balls. The album became a little empty after that, Y/N’s face creasing at the thought of the war. But after that came the pictures of their engagement, causing the small smile lines in her face to return. The most recent picture in the book though, was the two of them toasting champagne to Draco’s new job as relationship liason at the Ministry and her face fell. She could never admit to him that she wasn’t happy with his job, to her that would never be fair, but Draco’s job consisted of partying and networking- essentially getting drunk and buttering people up. It bothered Y/N and it wasn’t like he didn’t know it. She thought about the fact that in the last six months they hadn’t really talked at all and if they had, it would be an argument. Their was nothing particularly great about them anymore, it was clear to even the most distant onlooker that the things they had in common where starting to disappear and Y/N wished that it upset her more. But if she was honest, the whole thing had been slowly losing it’s sparkle for months. 

Closing the album and slipping it back onto the side table, Y/N pulled the covers over her body, unsurprised at how they failed to help her feel warm. As she rolled over to face the other side of the room, away from the door, she fiddled with the Malfoy family ring on her finger, staring at it sympathetically. With one last look at the ring, she closed her eyes and went to sleep. 

A few hours later, around four in the morning, Y/N was awoken by a gruff noise and the thud of shoes being taken off- he was finally home. Draco rid himself of the rest of his suit, leaving him in his underwear and heaved himself into bed. Y/N lay still, hoping he wouldn’t pester her and assume she was asleep. He looked over in her direction for a moment before leaning in to kiss her on the cheek. 

“I love you.” He whispered in her ear, before rolling over onto the other side of the bed, leaving distance in between them again. Y/N lay for a moment, contemplating her choices, deciding to roll the same way as him so his back was touching her front. 

“Do you?” She asked frankly, noticing his face twist into slight shock that she was indeed, awake. Draco shuffled awkwardly, still failing to meet her gaze. “Well, do you?” 

“Of course I do babe.” His answer was certain, but he was still unable to properly turn to meet her gaze, too anxious to find out what he’d find if he did. “I’m sorry I��m not here for you enough.” Y/N sighed a little, grabbing onto his shoulders and twisting him to face her. 

“I can’t do this Dray, not like this.” He knew she meant it seriously, but he decided that if he pretended it wasn’t happening, it wouldn’t. 

“I know.” Draco’s response was blunt but she understood. “I love you though, don’t ask me that ever again.” She felt like rolling her eyes but decided against it, instead moving closer to him so that their faces were basically touching. 

“Prove it.” Y/N whispered, her breath fanning his face slightly. Draco looked from her lips to her eyes, wanting to delve into her brain to find out what she was thinking, but he wouldn’t do that to her, not ever. Instead, he closed the gap and placed his lips onto his fiance’s, gripping the back of her neck with his palm tightly, pulling her closer and closer into him. His tongue entered her mouth and began to slip over hers in perfect harmony, her hands gliding from his chest to his waist band so gently he barely noticed. His own pale hands were stroking her lower back, causing her to squirm beneath him. Y/N’s hands went for his waistband but he waved them off, moving her back onto the pillows with his body squished inbetween her legs instead. She watched him, her head laid upon the pillows and her legs spread ever so slightly as he grazed his hands over her body, before curling his fingers around the top of her green panties and pulling them down over her hips and thighs. He watched her intensely as he ghosted his fingers over her area, mindful not to place any preassure anywhere where she would feel it. His hot breath was fanning her inner thighs, making her go jelly-like underneath him. Without any warning, Draco buried his face into her pussy, using his tongue to dart in and out of her folds, her juices painting his chin and lips gracefully. His hand shot to her clit so that two of his large fingers could rub it roughly, causing his name and a string of curse words to fall of of her lips like a spell. 

“So good for me, so so good.” He whispered, the vibrations of his voice rumbling through her body. Y/N let out a broken moan as Draco continued to use both his mouth and fingers to pleasure her, his free hand massaging and flicking her nipples between his fingers.

“Oh Draco, I’m going to...” She moaned, her eyes screwed shut and face titled towards the heavens. Draco watched her mesmerised, enjoying the view of her in so much pleasure. 

“Do it angel, do it.” He coaxed, not once removing his fingers from her clit, still using his tongue to make her legs jiggle. He could feel her tightening on his tongue, and he didn’t stop once her cum was dripping from his mouth, her enjoyment turning him on even more. Eventually he did remove himself from her pussy, pulling away slowly and revelling in her whimpers at the loss of contact. Draco pushed himself up with his hands after she’d recovered, positioning himself over her so that they were face to face again. “Taste yourself.” He whispered, pressing his lips to hers again, her tongue darting in and out of his mouth.

“Fuck” Y/N whimpered, the taste of herself so prominent on his lips that she felt herself begin to drip with her own wetness again. She had little time to prepare though, as before she knew it, Draco was lined up with her entrance and pushing himself in, causing her to grab onto his back as he thrust in and out of her pussy. Her moans began to echo from wall to wall again, and she wrapped her legs around his middle so that he was constantly hitting the perfect spot. Draco’s moans had become growls as his thrusts quickened, his grip on her waist tightening with every thrust he took, causing nail marks to appear in her side. Neither cared for the marks that were forming or the noise they were causing, their bodies were just totally devoted to each other, wrapped into one. Draco’s thrusts had began to become sloppy, and Y/N could feel his dick begin to twitch inside of her. With one last throaty growl ripping through him, he came in her, his cum dripping from her pussy as soon as he removed his cock. 

They didn’t speak after, Draco simply turned around and settled himself to sleep, feeling exhausted. Y/N sighed once more, before leaning over his body to study his face. Once she was certain that he was one hundred percent asleep, she slithered out of bed and over to the wardrobe on the other side of the room. She quietly opened the doors, slipping out the bag she’d packed a few nights ago, filled with her clothes and toiletries. She crept towards the bedside table quietly before placing the last few things she owned into the bag, including the photo album. After doing this, she flicked her wand over her body, wrapping herself in some of her warmest clothes. Slinging the bag over her shoulder, she turned. Spinning back on her heal, she looked down at her hand, to the ring. Looking over at the sleeping man she loved, she slipped the Malfoy ring from her finger and laid it carefully onto the bed side table. Then hoisting up the bag, she waved her wand and disapperated from Draco’s bedroom in Malfoy Manor, hoping to arrive somewhere far, far away.