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caesium-55 · 7 months

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—seven days. [ iv ]

pairing: max verstappen x manager! reader.

summary: as the third time world champion, max verstappen's manager, you function on the belief that whatever max verstappen wanted, max verstappen shall get. but this time, after four years of working as his manager, you can't give him what he wants anymore and that was to stay.

warning/s: sexual content but it's nothing too explicit. also angst angst angst.

author's note: NOT BETA READ. NOT EDITED. also, lemme know what u guys think!! would love to read it honestly. it was what had been keeping me inspired.

tags: @whatamidoingwithmylife-ramdom @eugene-emt-roe @bellezaycafe @barnestatic @theseerbetweenus @wcnorris @notyouraveragemochii @lpab @vildetry06 @a-beaverhausen @formula1mount @loloekie @alucardsdaddyissues @leclercdream

masterlist.

You have three philosophies in life.

Pussies do not get the good stuff. If you want the good stuff, don't be a pussy.

Hard work will pay off one day. In the meantime, work hard but don't work too hard. You work smart and make it seem like you're working hard so by the time your “hard” work pays off, you’re not too tired from working and still have energy to enjoy your reward, you know? Does that make sense?

Whatever Max Verstappen wanted, Max Verstappen would get.

Now let us focus on philosophy number three. It's a shitty philosophy to have, but when you're working as the manager of Red Bull’s golden boy—after Sebastian Vettel, of course—that philosophy sort of becomes the job description. It's your job to give whatever Max Verstappen wanted, whatever he needed.

When he asks you that question, sounding so innocent as if he hasn't just yanked your entire world off its axis by saying those words, your first reaction is to pull up the middle finger. Fuck you, Max. Max is an asshole for asking you that. Max is an absolute asshole for asking you for a kiss. For the five years you've worked for him, he should already be aware of the power he holds over your head. Should be aware that you'll give anything he'll ask. That's why he should be careful with what he's asking from you.

Said asshole has the audacity to pout. He resembled the pet duck who lived in your Abuelo's farm that you were very fond of in your childhood. Her name was Maria and she was a menace. Your Abuelo even tied a pink bow to the duck’s neck so it could be easily recognizable. A 181-cm tall, broad-shouldered, blond-brown-haired Dutch duck with a blue-eyed gaze that will never fail to make your bones tremble and your heart stutter once you let yourself stare at it. You can put a bow around his neck, too, like what your Abuelo did to that duck. Then, use the bow to choke him in a way that is definitely not sexy or kinky but in a way that screams murder, murder, murder.

“That's not nice.”

“‘M not a nice person.”

“You're a nice person, you just don't do nice things.”

You give him a weird look.

“If you weren't a nice person, you would not be here with me right now,” he continues, in a manner that made him seem like a hundred-old sage imparting wisdom. “But you're here and you're not leaving and you're not hurting me so you're nice.”

His words cause something rotten to bloom in your ribs, “How are you so certain that ‘m not gonna end up hurtin’ you? For all you know, I'm gonna use this billiard stick to make you a human skewer right now.”

He laughs. God. The sound is absolutely beautiful that it terrifies you.

“You're you, [Name]. You would never hurt me.”

In a sense, he's right. You will never hurt him. Not intentionally, at least. If you wanted him to hurt, you'll be leaving right now and flying to Texas the same way Kelly did in Abu Dhabi. Because, for someone like Max, nothing in this world is more painful than to be left alone when all you yearned for is someone to be there for you.

“So……will you?” he asks again. “Will you kiss me?”

He's drunk, your brain reasons. Your fingers gently reach for his jaw—very angular, you belatedly realize—and Max chases the warmth of your skin. He does not know what he's asking, your brain reasons again. You tug him towards you and your mouth meets his, immediately registering the taste of the beer on his tongue. He’s stupid, your brain added. I’m stupid, too, you argue mentally and pushes him against the side of the billiard table and toss your stick to the floor and let yourself take everything from Max Verstappen. Fuck you Max, you think with finality. Your brain replies: You’re also fucked.

He took what he wanted from you. Every day. Every single day. He will ask and you will give. Now, it is your turn to take. One last time before the inevitable goodbye that you know will break both of your hearts.

Anger. Frustration. That's what you feel right now. Anger because this is going to make things more complicated for you and goddammit, why are you making things hard for yourself? Frustrated because you’re not supposed to do this but you cannot fucking stop. Thank fuck you resigned before pulling this shit because this is soooooo unprofessional.

You read somewhere that said something like all people are driven to the point of eating their gods after a time. And is this situation not a perfect demonstration of this? Max is your god. Max was your god. And you are going to devour him—fueled by five years of frustration and anger and a series of why, why, why didn't you talk to Horner? Now it's too late because I'm leaving all because you didn't talk to fucking Horner.

You've forgiven 2021. 2022 made your grudge grow. And you're not stupid to continue staying after his 2023 victory when it's clearly not happening—the dream that will be given to you with Max's power. You will never forgive yourself if you stayed here and be continuously reminded of what you could become, what you failed to become.

Max is surprisingly pliant under your hands. A rare occasion. One would expect Max Verstappen to take the lead because that's what he did in the race tracks. A 20-second lead from everyone else. He's also the type to just do whatever he wanted, you know? And people would let him. Because he's Max Verstappen.

Dominance. Total dominance.

“Wait,” he squeezes your arms and you do not hear him clearly the first time because you're so concentrated on his lips and how it feels and tastes against yours. “Wait, wait. Slow down.”

You pull away and you hear him take a gasp of air, “Somethin’ wrong?”

He looks so beautiful like this. Beneath you. Lips swollen. Blue eyes wide with desire. Hair perfectly messy. Grip on your arm so tight that you're sure will definitely leave a hand-shaped bruise tomorrow.

“Can’t breathe,” he says with a light laugh and you resist the urge to violently bash your head against the billiard table because what the fuck? That's not good for your heart. It's too… too… adorable. Max is not supposed to be an adorable person.

You suck in a breath and lower your head until your forehead meets Max’s firm chest.

“Fuck you,” you mumble.

“Hm?”

“Nothing.”

You raise your head and meet Max’s eyes, the culprit behind your insanity right now.

(Your Abuela said that blue eyes were just blue eyes. Until you fall in love with someone with blue eyes and blue becomes a color that consumed your world whole. You appreciated the sky more because it reminded you of his eyes. You appreciated the color of the seas more because it reminded you of his eyes. Blue became the color of love.)

Now what? Do you continue or…?

“Can you do me a favor?”

“Do you even need to ask?” you deadpan. Max’s hands circle around your waist and he gently guides you away from him. He dusts his shirt once he has fully risen from the billiard table before his hand finds yours. Fingers intertwining together, he leads you out of the entertainment room.

Your heart drums with anticipation. Numerous questions circle around your head but it all disappears in a flash when Max brings you to the room where you found him that morning. You wince when you walk past the broken door.

Yeah…

Making a payment plan will be hell. You're unemployed at the current moment, too. The first thing you have to do when you land in Texas is find a job.

He makes you sit on his bed, the soft mattress dipping down on your weight. You can only stare at him, brows furrowing in confusion and a question sitting on the tip of your tongue that you are yet to voice out. Max makes a beeline to his closet, throwing it open and procuring a box.

A box.

He walks back to you, dropping on his knees and that action makes you panic. Then, Max opens the box, pulling out the most gorgeous pair of five-inch block heels you have ever laid eyes upon and gently slips them onto your feet. The straps have pearls and satin bows and it has tiny white diamonds, elegantly cut, as the centerpiece. Not even the YSL Opyum heels you own can compare to its elegance and beauty.

You almost kick him in the face because you do not expect that he’ll do that.

I bought shoes and they don't fit her. Max has told you. You feel bile rise up your throat.

The shoes. They fit you. Perfectly. As if it was made to be yours. As if it was bought to be yours. As if he was thinking of you, who is nothing but his manager and somewhat friend, when he bought the gorgeous heels instead of Kelly Piquet, his fucking girlfriend of three years whom he had been living with in this fucking penthouse, and parenting little P with.

“They're perfect,” Max whispers and he looks up with that smile playing on his lips. You feel tears sting your eyes and you press your lips into a thin line before moving your gaze away, blinking rapidly.

Max is doing this because he thought you were Kelly.

“They're custom, you know? They're the only pair in the world.”

His words make the taste of bile a hundred times worse. You stare at the shoes on your feet as if it's a sin to have the shoes fit you. No wonder Kelly is mad at Max. If Leo has commissioned custom heels with another woman in mind and got your shoe size wrong after three years of being together, you'll feel hurt, too.

You feel the need to apologize to Kelly. Maybe a quick message to her IG? You also follow each other’s private account.

“You’re thinking,” he says and his voice snaps you out of the rabbit hole known as your thoughts. “What are you thinking?”

“Nothin’,” you lie. The feeling of wanting to puke intensifies so you grab Max by his collar and plant your lips against his to push back the imaginary bile stuck on your throat and from there, the situation escalates to the point that clothes are removed. One by one. When you reach to unstrap the heels, Max grabbed your wrists, almost panicked.

“What are you doin’?” you ask.

“Don't take them off please.”

Whatever Max wanted, Max would get.

Your name built a home in Max’s mouth, the syllables rolling off his tongue with ease at every pleasure he felt, while your fingers explore every inch of Max’s skin. You're only allowed to watch back then. Now, you're allowed to touch.

Hearing his whimpers and little groans and shudders—all done by your hands—you feel nothing but satisfaction. He chants your name like it's a prayer and you're his god and if that is not love then you do not what is.

You wait for Max to utter Kelly’s name midway.

He never did.

“What are you doing?” his voice is groggy with sleep. After doing it, he immediately passes out. Weak ass bitch. You're still waiting for the horror once the realization of what you’ve done sinks into your system. The annoying headache, too. For now, none of them have arrived yet. Probably because you still have enough alcohol in your system to numb things out for you. While waiting, you're on your phone.

Ha, it's past 12 midnight now. You have three days to tell Max before you fly to Texas.

“Talkin' to someone,” you reply cryptically. His brows knit together.

“Who?”

“Just Logan.”

“The American in Williams?”

You roll your eyes, “Yes, the American in Williams.”

You notice how his arms on your waist tighten, pulling you a little closer to him, but you say nothing. This action causes flowers to bloom in your lungs and you hope he hasn't noticed how your breath hitched.

“Why?”

“He’s my friend. Friends talk,” you deadpan.

Logan Sargeant is an absolute sweetheart. He reminds you a lot of your little brother and you both share the same sentiments regarding the feeling of being unwelcomed in Formula One. You suppose he has it worse though. Nobody in the grid really makes an effort to befriend the young racer and you're fifty percent sure that the fact he's American made a contribution to that.

None of the other racers even follow him on Insta.

“Well, what are you two talking about?” Grumpy and bratty Max is back. Welcome back, asshole.

“He’s in Texas right now and he was askin’ if I was back home, too. Said we should grab a drink together. I promised to show him around Austin.”

“You never invited me to Austin.”

“Why would you even go to Austin?” your nose scrunch a little. “You visit your mother for Christmas.”

He rolls his eyes.

“You're befriending too much racers.”

“Excuse me? I only have Logan as a friend. Charles, too, by extension because he's your friend,” you point out. “Checo and Daniel and Yuki and Liam because they work with you.”

“And me.”

“You're not my friend.”

“What am I then? Your dog?”

“I work for you.”

“You work with me, not for me,” he corrects.

You do not know why your heart skipped a beat at that.

“I’m just trynna be a good friend here and you're bein’ unreasonably grumpy,” you try to shift the subject to save your own sanity. “None of you even tried to befriend Logan.”

Max abruptly reaches for his phone on the bedside table and unlocks it. You watch as he opens his Instagram, the public one, and added Logan's account. You gape. He switches to his private account and searches for Logan’s account in your profile's list of followers and adds him, too.

“What the fuck, Max?”

“I’m befriending him,” he says simply. “I’ll invite him over if he ever comes by in Monaco during the off-season.”

You blink.

“Now say goodbye to him and go back to sleep.”

He tosses his phone to the bedside table and turn his back on you in a manner that reminded you of a very petulant child.

You glance at your phone only to see Logan’s freaked out messages.

logan: HE FOLLOWED ME??!? ON BOTH ACCOUNTS???

logan: AM I SEEING THINGS? HAVE I ACCIDENTALLY SNORTED DRUGS??!

logan: maybe it's the texas heat??

logan: *sent a screenshot*

logan: MAX VERSTAPPEN INVITED ME TO HIS PENTHOUSE??

you: congrats child

logan: is this your doing??!?

logan: are you with him now?

logan: wait that's impossible, itd be 2 am in monaco now there's no way youd be together rn

If only he knows.

you: how bout we talk later once the sun rises here in monaco?

you: or maybe once i arrive in the us?

logan: sure sure

you: stay safe out there kid

logan: HE JUST FOLLOWED ME I CAN DIE HAPPY

You toss your phone aside and inch closer to Max, looping your arms around him and falling asleep in his warmth.

Your phone rings and it's not the Max Max Max Super Max Max ringtone. It's the default one.

Mama, the caller ID indicates. 4:31 AM is written on the upper right corner of your phone screen. You press the answer button.

“Your Papa…… It was a dangerous call. He needs to see you before he… He might not make it.”

That alone is enough for you to jump out of bed. You scramble to grab last night’s clothes and slip them on. Fuck, they still smell like alcohol.

“Hey, hey, what's wrong?” Max, who's rudely awakened when you abruptly jumped out of bed, looks so lost and when he sees you run your way out of his bedroom and to the stairs, he panics. The poor man panicked. He falls down the bed and runs after you, having the decency to only grab a towel to cover his lower half. He stops you, grabbing your wrist just as you're at the lowest step of the stairs.

“Wait, where are you going?” his voice is still rough with sleep and he's aggressively rubbing out his grogginess from his eyes. You stop, letting out a breath that you don't realize you're holding before turning around to face him. Then, the guilt rushes in. Max looks so…you don't have the words to describe it. His hair is a mess and he still looks sleepy but he also looks wide awake and kind of panicking and confused.

This is a face that's equally endearing and heartbreaking. You can't believe this will be the last time you'll be seeing him. You're still supposed to have three days left but now it's cut short and you—

You'll miss him.

“Sorry, baby,” you come up a few steps and cup his cheeks, bringing his face down so you can kiss his forehead. His hand comes up to lay on top of yours, eyes fluttering close.

“Where are you going?” he asks again.

“Texas,” you reply. “Dad… he… 'Twas a bad call and I need to see him. I need—I need to go home now.”

This is the reality of being family with a firefighter. You're always in danger of losing your father in one of the calls. And that is happening now.

Max understands because he knows your father's line of work.

“Do you need me to come with you?”

You shake your head.

“Then, I’ll drive you.”

“No,” you shoot him down quickly. “You drank last night. It’s dangerous.”

“I’m not drunk now.”

“Max,” you breathe through your nose to calm yourself down. “I’ll take the next flight available to the US. You stay here.”

“Take my jet.”

“No, Max,” you say. “Thank you for the offer but you’ll use the jet when you visit your mother.”

“I can fly commercial,” he squeezes your hands. “You don't want me to drive you. You don't want me to come with you. At least take the jet.”

You open your mouth to protest.

“Just take the jet, please, [Name].”

Whatever Max wanted, Max would get. So you nod your head slowly because it looks like he'll argue just to get you seated in his jet. And you'll argue with him if it was any other day but not today because you need to leave quickly. Time is becoming too precious. You can lose your Dad any second. You just wish you can see him and talk to him before he went.

“Okay.”

You pull away, whipping around to head to the door but Max doesn't let your wrist go. You turn back to him.

“What is it, Max?”

“Text me when you land in Texas?”

“Of course.”

“One last thing. Wait here.”

He runs back to his room and you tap your foot impatiently, eyes trained on the mismatched shoes that covered your feet. Max returns not even five minutes later and now, he's wearing clothes and he’s carrying the shoe box from last night.

You swallow the lump on your throat.

“Take this with you.”

With shaking hands, you take the box.

“See you around, [Name].”

“Goodbye, Max.”

It's a good thing that you spent the entire morning yesterday packing because this makes everything smoother for you. It is a little past 5 am now and the outside world is still enveloped in total darkness. You gaze at the apartment one last time, three suitcases in tow. The keys feel heavy in your hands as you lock the door behind you.

In the middle of your apartment living room sits a lone shoe box with a letter that says: Sorry, Max. I can't steal more from Kelly.

Beside the box is a folder.

An unfinished guide on becoming Max Verstappen’s manager. (I’ll have the final copy printed, binded, and sent before the 2024 pre-season. Haha, I’m channeling my inner Toto Wolff.)

The first paper you’ll see after you open the folder reads:

Max, I know you’d be the one who’d find this one day. By that time, I’ll be in Texas already. I don't know if I’d have told you that I resigned already. If I didn't, that's because I’m a pussy. Sorry.

Anyways, I will say this as straightforwardly as I can because I think I had been a pussy long enough.

I resigned, Max. I won't be your manager by 2024 and honestly, I am worried. Not for you, of course. You’d win WDC whether I am your manager or not. That's how good you are. I am worried for your future manager. I’m afraid it would take someone with guts like me to work for with someone like you. A powerhouse manager for a powerhouse athlete.

Inside, you can find the following things:

How to bake my abuela’s special cheesecake.

How to make Red Bull vodka

How to make Max’s favorite pasta for lunch

List of Max Verstappen’s favorite places in each city

How to iron Max Verstappen’s clothes

What to do when Max accidentally sets the kitchen on fire

What to do when Max has a bad race

How to protect Max Verstappen from angry Hamilton fans

How to deal with a drunk Max Verstappen

Etc…

I will still be watching your journey, not from the Red Bull garage but from another continent. We worked five amazing years together and now it is time for us to fly on different skies. As much as I liked working with you, you can't be the only one reaching your dreams. Don’t worry, I’ll always reach out.

Thank you, Max. For giving me a home. I’m not talking about the apartment. I don't believe that home are establishments. Home is the people you love and Max, you are someone I love.

In the last page of this folder, you’d see a handmade bracelet tucked inside. It's small and it's made of cheap beads and I do not care if you don't think it's worthy enough to be worn on your wrist. Not even going to be offended. It's dirt compared to the Cartier bracelets you wear everyday. I bought the beads while roaming in Brazil and I just thought I’d make you one.

I cannot give you any gift that you already cannot buy with your money so I went ahead and made this. Money cannot buy anything made by my own hands.

Thank you again, Max.

And I’m so fucking sorry.

Please don't be angry.

I love you.

You watch the sun rise inside Max's jet as you fly over Monaco to Texas.

#mv1 #mv33 #max verstappen #f1imagines #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #f1 #formulaone #fanfic #max verstappen fanfic

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gyuswhore · 1 year

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the story of us ✦ j.w.w x reader

the story of us looks a lot like a tragedy now - the story of us

synopsis: So many walls that you can't break through; except you do.

wc: 2.1K

contains: best friends to lovers, angst, fluff, humour, happy ending, alcohol, arguments

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[a/n]: im exhausted, im loopy, im hungry, but i really wanted to post this so here you go my babies I'm sorry i haven't fed you in so long (ty @toruro for making sure i wasn't talking out of my ass in this ily)

[edit; 11/04/24]: grammar and spelling.

Jeon Wonwoo was nearing boiling point when he watched you push him away from yet another conversation.

He tried to understand, just like he always had. But it was proving near impossible at the five-month mark.

There were clear signs you exhibited when you needed space, for whatever reason, Wonwoo knew you would tell him when you recovered. So he gave you what you needed.

And yet, when he finds himself pushed away from what looks like a casual conversation between your mutual friends, he finds his mild annoyance grow into something hotter.

There’s a clench in his jaw as he tries not to squeeze the red cup in his hand with too much pressure, even when all the spiteful bit of his brain wants to do is to pour its pigmented contents all over your cream outfit. He manages to control himself, choosing to get up and exit the premises entirely. In complete silence, he refuses to acknowledge any yell of his name from passing acquaintances.

Jeon Wonwoo refused to respond to any of your advances after that.

Invitations to lunch were left on a jarring sent, the notification sitting in his log until he chooses to open it too late. His response was bare when you asked for help on some accounting concepts, pushing you over into Jihoon’s hands to fulfill your requirements. There’s a blatant shrug when you touch his shoulder, concerned, asking why his behaviour had become so distant in the past weeks; he responds with a mumble of, “just tired”.

The great divide happened a few days proceeding your birthday, one for which Wonwoo did nothing for but send you a quick message during the evening, never to see you throughout the extended day.

“I can’t believe you’re putting this on me!” you all but yell, eyes wide and expression exasperated at the situation.

“Are you blind? Or just plain stupid? Because I didn’t tolerate months of your shit attitude to have you say it isn’t your fault.” Wonwoo is breathing heavily, hands motioning towards your entire figure with equal disbelief.

“What attitude?” you emphasize. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know I couldn’t be upfront with my best friend.”

“There’s a difference between being in a mood and blatant disrespect. I’m tired of having to put up with your mood swings like it’s my responsibility to coddle you. When was the last time you genuinely asked me how I was doing?”

“All the time!”

“Yeah, after you realize there's nobody else to whine and wail to!”

“Wonwoo, you’re being ridiculous.”

“Fine. If I’m clearly so unhinged, I’ll leave you to your liking.”

The dwindled interactions, from messages to hellos, went from sparing to nonexistent — just like that.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t expect for you and Wonwoo to reconcile in the matter of a few days, if not a couple weeks.

But when the distance did nothing but grow larger, there was a settle of resentment in the pit of your stomach as you accepted the feud you were in.

A text was sent from your phone a couple days after the incident.

[You]: can we talk?

But when you see no sign of the grey Delivered on the end, you knew he had blocked you.

This was all nothing less than baffling to you for a number of reasons, starting with how you had never witnessed Wowoo acting this way.

Wonwoo had done nothing but reprimand you the rare chance you suggested blocking an apprehensive individual, something about not showing that you cared. His voice seemed redundant after a certain decibel, the rarest chance to witness him yell at a failed video game or a frustrating professor.

You know better, which is the only reason you’re ruling off paranormal possession.

The claims against you came as an afterthought, not, however, rendering them any less strange. There’s a part of you that pondered if your shield of annoyance blocked you from seeing the truth in his words and in your behaviour, finding yourself overwhelmed with emotions when the thought crossed your mind, tears of frustration immediately blurring your vision.

You did not understand, you could not. And when it all got too much, you allowed the hurt and confusion to turn into something more dangerous. You replaced it with anger, in the same place that once occupied a more delicate emotion.

There was an uproar in Wonwoo’s mind when he sees you walk into the lecture hall, unaware of your overlapping schedule in the new semester. He watches as your eyes pass over the moderately packed space, briefly glancing over where he sat; if you saw him, you did nothing to bring a reaction out of it. You take a seat a few rows up front, right in front of him where he’s able to see the back of your head for the next two hours — for the rest of the semester.

He wonders if it’s too late to switch classes.

“Wonwoo, I honestly think this is getting out of hand.” Jihoon munches on his cashews, leaning against bark of the tree they were both sat under.

“Did you want me to keep tending to her bullshit then?” he grumbles.

“That’s not what I’m saying, you know it’s not.”

“That’s what it sounds like.” Wonwoo’s retort is brisk.

Jihoon is suddenly snapping his fingers in his face at the reply, a flinch accompanies Wonwoo’s already sour expression.

“See! See how frustrating it is when somebody isn’t making sense?”

“How does this—”

“Wonwoo, did you try talking to her about how you felt, you know, without the screaming?”

Jihoon watches as Wonwoo’s expression clears out, his eyebrows unfurrowing and the scowl fading. He doesn’t speak, choosing to let the realization kick in.

“No.”

Jihoon sighs, taking another pause. “I’m not saying what she did wasn’t uncalled for, but you need to talk shit out before deciding you hate each other.”

“I don’t hate her.”

“Right, so can we wrap this up quickly and have you confess your undying love so we can all relax.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Heat crawls up Wonwoo’s cheeks.

“What? If you don’t hate her, it’s gotta be the opposite.”

Did Wonwoo like you? Yeah, he probably did. Did he ever let himself ponder upon it? No, because he was downright mortified of the mere thought. He finds himself a hypocrite to say it was to preserve your friendship, but he figures he’s fucked it up in a way that’s arguably worse.

Regardless, Wonwoo walks away from that conversation with two things: a stark realization, and an even starker admittance.

Everything was going wrong. At least that’s what it felt like when you hear the clang of your water bottle hit the pavement, rolling off into the oncoming traffic as you sprint to grab it. You nearly cause a vehicle pile-up, swallowing a couple profanities from braking drivers.

You’re stuffing the darn thing into your bag when you trip on a loose brick on the path, nearly landing on your face. The glare you send into the pavement costs you even more when a hard shoulder bumps into your side, sending you another couple steps back. You don’t bother to see who the perpetrator is, too preoccupied with your attempts to take in deeper breaths amid the blankness of your mind.

There are no hiccups after that, what you might owe your more conscious mind to. Stomping up the library steps, you thank nothingness for the air conditioning that meets your hot face, slowing down as you take in the crowd.

Scanning the room for an empty seat is harder than you’d anticipated, hoping the heat would keep students away from the building as you left to get work done. Approaching a table, you set down your bag with a huff, pulling the chair out to finally take the seat you’ve been needing for so long.

The universe seems to have other plans.

It’s almost funny the way you and Wonwoo make eye contact across the other table, the recognition sending a jolt through your stomach.

You’ve never moved so fast, pushing the chair back in with a screech that earns you a few looks, grabbing the handles of your bag as you turn around to leave the building you’d just entered.

No way you'd sit there. Not when he was around.

You're bounding down the steps when somebody passes you, murmuring something without slowing their stride.

“I’m leaving, you can go inside,” Wonwoo says, and the sound of his voice has you halting almost immediately.

Whipping your head around to search for the sound, you watch as he takes a turn at the end of the steps, slowly moving out of your vision.

There’s a swirl of something in your chest, and you realise in that moment how much you missed hearing his voice.

Chiding yourself, you blink back the water that wells up in your eyes, embarrassed at how quickly you were losing yourself.

But the damage was done. And you wanted to be reckless, regardless of how desperate it made you look. A split second decision is made in that moment, one that lightens the heavy feet that you’ve planted on the concrete.

You’re back to bounding down the steps, but this time with aim.

Taking the same turn you saw Wonwoo take, you break into a sprint as you see his figure move farther away. You keep running, continuing to bump into both objects and people, hurried "sorry"'s the only thing you choose to throw their way.

“Wonwoo!” Your voice comes out stronger than you’d intended, the sharpness having him turn around in search, eyes landing on your accelerating figure.

Both of you realize too late how fast you’re really going, the velocity taking you directly into his outstretched arms, hands grasping the sleeves of his shirt as you come to screeching stop directly into his chest.

You don’t have the time nor the patience to be embarrassed, pulling your face back to look directly into Wonwoo’s bewildered eyes to huff out your next words.

“Why did you block me?” you ask, voice gruff and slightly out of breath.

Wonwoo’s mouth opens and closes like a fish, words refusing to come out.

“Why are you so mad at me? Why are you being nice to me if you’re mad at me?” You don’t stop, the direct questions tumbling off your tongue in desperation.

You search his face for an answer when his mouth fails, but all you find is the remnants of shock yet to ebb away.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for making you feel like you weren’t important, I’m sorry for taking your presence for granted, I’m sorry for hurting you, I’m sorry for…for… I don’t know! I’m just really sorry and I don't know how else to make this right.”

“I’m sorry, too,” you hear him say and you feel the moisture return to your eyes.

“Huh?”

“I should’ve…” he pauses, looking sheepish. “I should’ve talked to you before I, y’know, went off on you. I should’ve managed my feelings better, I’m sorry.”

You're silent for a few tantalizing moments before you raise your fists, and pound down on his chest with everything you have. You do it again, and then again, and again—

“What?- Ow!”

“When are you gonna stop bottling up your feelings for fucks sake, it’s landed you everywhere but good!” you say, nearly yelling.

Wonwoo whips his head around to see who’s listening, palm to mouth in attempts to silence you.

“I’m sorry! I know! I’m working on it,” he rambles, trying to get you to quit struggling. “Jihoon and I talked, that’s why I realised I was being dumb.”

“Are you gonna unblock me now or do I need to pay Jihoon to sit down with you again?”

Wonwoo’s eyebrows furrow. “You payed Jihoon to sit with me?”

“No, you idiot. But I should have because you can’t seem to figure out how to feel emotions.”

Wonwoo can’t help himself when he breaks out into a grin, letting out a breathy chuckle that has you asking “What?”.

He pulls you in, heart to heart in an embrace, holding you tight to make up for the weeks of no contact. He breathes in your scent and feels as though he hasn’t in years.

“I’m not gonna come running up to you the next time you decide you hate me,” you mumble into his shoulder, pouting slightly.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“No.” Wonwoo pulls away but keeps you in his arms, looking at you, “I love you. Like, the kind of stuff that makes you wanna live together forever. I love you.”

It’s your turn to gape like a fish.

“W-what?”

“You told me not to bottle up my feelings.”

“Yeah, but—wow, um.”

“Did I make another mistake?”

No! You wanted to scream. But you don’t. You instead lift your hands up to come around his face, cradling it. And you kissed him.

“I love you, too. Like the live together forever kind.”

1K notes · View notes

hollowdeath · 9 months

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Hello, I was wondering if it'd be possible for you to do an enemies to lovers with Harry Potter (with smut)? I feel like since Harry's life has been focused on Voldemort, he hasn't had a lot of time to think about things like crushes, and he's only had a couple of girlfriends here and there, but he's never felt such strong feelings for someone like y/n, so he deals with them by having a disliking towards her. (maybe he has a breeding kink? 🙏🙏) Maybe she's dracos sister? I dunno, all I know is that your fanfics are beautifully written, and you are my FAV tumblr author. Thank you ❤️

hi! thank you so much for requesting! you are so so sweet, i appreciate it so much <3 i had a lotttt of fun writing this one, i hope you like it!

pairing: harry james potter x fem!slytherin!reader (18+)

summary: harry becomes infatuated with you, draco malfoy's little sister, whom he's extremely protective over. though harry's confusion when it came to you lead him to hating you for several years, he eventually sees who you truly are, and loves what he finds.

c/w: mostly angst/fluff, slow burn, some smut at the end (oral & penetrative sex with some minor breeding kink). and, of course, briefly edited, all lowercase, not exactly book/movie/canon accurate, you know me !

word count: 14.6k (i'm so sorry)

a/n: soo i kinda ran with the draco's sister plot line lol. i actually had 2 other requests that also asked for a slytherin reader, so i tried to make it all in one! i hope everyone enjoys!

it wasn't until year 2 that harry learned draco actually had a little sister who would now be attending hogwarts with them. "how did you not know?" hermione had asked him, dumbfounded. "you've never heard someone mention [y/n] malfoy?"

harry tried to pay attention to hermione's questions, but he couldn't stop staring at you. you only vaguely looked like draco, maybe more so from certain angles, but there was something so completely different and unique about you. you carried yourself differently than draco. no constant sneer or narrowed eyes looking for trouble; instead, a soft smile, gentle touch, and nervous giggle. harry wasn't sure what to make of you. how could someone like you be related to such an evil pest like draco malfoy?

"blimey, harry, we're over here," ron whines, snapping his fingers in harry's face. harry looks back at his friends with guilt. "sorry, it's just, she doesn't seem related to draco," he says.

hermione makes a face. "i still wouldn't trust her regardless, the malfoys are nothing but evil trouble,"

harry glances back at you again, laughing with a few other first year girls waiting for the sorting hat.

it came as no surprise to anyone when you, a malfoy heir, were quickly sorted as a slytherin, their table erupting into cheers as you excitedly ran to a cheerful draco. harry remarked this as one of the first times he's seen draco actually look happy, a genuine grin plastered across his face as he gives you a big hug.

it almost feels wrong to see draco be affectionate with someone. harry's never seen someone make draco soften so much so quickly. as he's guiding you to sit next to him at the table, harry can actually hear him congratulating you. "see, i told you, nothing to worry about."

seeing him be so brotherly with you was so off putting it was almost upsetting to harry. if draco does have feelings, then why is he so awful to harry and his friends for no reason? and not just them, but to almost every student or professor? it just made no sense to him. harry hated hypocrites.

after the ceremony, harry's heading to the gryffindor common room when draco sharply cuts in front of him, standing nose to nose in the hallway.

draco looks harry up and down with a sneer. "i saw you staring at my baby sister, potter. try anything with her and you're dead."

harry's caught off guard but sneers back at draco, disgusted at his insinuation. "wasn't planning on it, draco. hermione's right, your family is nothing but trouble."

you come up behind draco, pulling on his robes softly. "draco," you say.

draco gives you one last warning look before taking you by the shoulders, guiding you away from harry. "let's go, [y/n]," he says with disgust.

as draco pulls you away, you swiftly turn over your shoulder and wave at harry with a big grin on your face. "hi, harry!" you call out excitedly before draco turns you around and walks you down the hallway quicker.

harry waves weakly. now he's really not sure what to think. draco is clearly protective of you and doesn't want you to even talk to harry. but you seem so kind and friendly, and harry can't deny how cute your smile is…

harry brushes off the situation, meeting ron and hermione at the top of the stairs where they were waiting for him. "what was that all about?" ron asked.

harry rolls his eyes. "nothing. can we just go?"

ron and hermione look at each other, a bit confused at harry's annoyance, but don't push him any further.

it's on this walk with ron and hermione that harry decides he hates you. as far as he's concerned, you're just another draco to him. he doesn't care if you seem nice, hermione's right - he can't trust you. not even for a second. not even if you look at him with those big beautiful eyes, that soft smile, your infectious giggle…no, harry hates you. and he hates draco. nothing's going to change that.

harry actually manages to not have another interaction with you until the beginning of 4th year, though that never stopped the longing stares between you two. harry often caught you attempting to talk to him, but always figured out a way around it to avoid you completely. he wasn't scared of draco's threat; harry knew he was serious but he wasn't afraid of draco. he simply had no desire to be around you, not even for a second.

mainly because he knew you could easily win him over if you wanted to.

harry had tried to deny it for over a year before he finally admitted to himself that fine, okay, maybe he does find [y/n] extremely pretty…but that doesn't have to mean anything. he still avoided you like the plague as draco continued to torment harry and his friends like normal.

at the beginning of fourth year, however, you made it a point to find harry when he was alone and practically force him into a conversation with you. he tries to get away when he sees it's you coming up next to him in the hallway, but you grab his arm. "harry. please."

harry pauses. he hasn't really heard your voice since you were in your first year, and only barely. it was so soft and kind, and just a hint sad as you asked him to speak for a moment.

he turns to you reluctantly. he knew this wasn't going to be good. he's already a little lost just looking in your eyes, but keeps himself focused as you begin talking to him.

"you've been avoiding me for almost 3 years now, and don't try to deny it because i'm not stupid…" you say, your tone of sadness only more pronounced. harry's awkwardly diverting his gaze, watching as you both slowly become some of the only students left in the hallway. he doesn't intend on replying, instead letting silence fill the air between you.

"i know you and draco don't get along but, can't we at least be civil? i'm not like him like that," you ask, your voice slightly desperate.

harry glares at you, ripping his arm away from your lingering grasp. he was never one to get angry at someone being so kind to him without reason, but he just couldn't stand you. you confused him, you made his heart race, you made him feel crazy for disliking someone so intensely when they haven't done anything wrong, but he couldn't help it.

"draco is an evil, blood purist bully. and as far as i'm concerned, you're nothing but his little shadow. so no, we cannot be civil." harry spits at you, his voice dripping in anger.

your face drops, but he's already stomping away, his blood pumping from the adrenaline rush of simply speaking to you.

"well fuck off, then. i was just being nice."

harry turns around at your loud voice, seeing you in tears just before you turn around and run out of the hallway, a few lingering students watching and looking over at harry as well.

harry just ignores them and continues walking away. he feels guilty, of course, you really were just trying to be nice despite harry's relationship with draco, but harry can't let his guard down for even a second. he's got so many other parts of his life that require his attention and time, he can't risk getting caught up in his feelings over his enemy's sister in the middle of it all.

it was easier for both of you if harry just put that wall up right away and ignored his other feelings for you. the feelings of longing, the feeling of guilt…

after that day, you and harry hadn't spoken to each other again. there was always looking, staring from across the room in both admiration and disdain. you found harry to be incredibly rude after that encounter and never saw him quite the same, but you couldn't help but watch him through the years as he grew into himself. and he had the same issue, only finding you more and more beautiful as time went on, from an adorable girl with the cutest laugh he's ever heard to a gorgeous woman in every sense of the word.

harry had a few crushes throughout this time at hogwarts and, ironically, even dated his best friend's sister at some point, but always found himself disinterested in all of them after a while for one reason or another. harry was constantly on edge these last few years and would practically lose himself in the situations he was in. his world would be turned upside down and he was expected to fix it every time. at that point, he just couldn't bring himself to care about a crush or even a relationship after experiencing what he's gone through.

what harry did always care about, though, was you.

not in a traditional sense, at least. he didn't necessarily want bad things to happen to you, not at all actually. he had always kept an eye on you during your years together. he didn't have any reason to, you guys were anything but friends, but harry felt a responsibility to keep you safe for some reason.

by harry's last year, draco had more or less left him alone completely. no more bullying or picking fights or spewing names, draco was now a sullen shell of who he used to be with no motivation to do anything but graduate and leave hogwarts behind.

harry couldn't blame him. he had to give it to draco, he went through a lot. though harry believed it all happened due to draco's own stupidity and selfishness that left him alone and depressed in the end, he still felt for him, if only a little bit. if not for what it did to you.

you had never given in to your family's connections to the dark lord, even when things were at their most detrimental point in the war, you stood with your fellow classmates, and, ultimately, with harry. draco couldn't say the same.

harry remembers being shocked, but not entirely sure why. he knew who you really were outside of your surname: a kind, understanding, empathetic person who brought light to people's days. but still, after all this time, there was a part of harry that still believed it might have all just been an act. he knew he was being ridiculous once he saw you turn away from your own parents and brother, not for harry, but for what was right.

since then, harry's felt different about you. rather than feeling anger or confusion whenever he saw your face or the back of your head in the hall, all he felt was happiness. he was happy to see you, happy that everything was okay now, happy that you had been genuine this whole time…though, of course, that came with the guilt of being so awful to you previously.

harry had been meaning to apologize to you and finally settle things before the end of the year. the issue was getting you away from draco.

since draco began struggling after the war, you two were practically attached at the hip. you tried everything in your power to help your brother, to be there for him, to reassure him; it killed you to see him so disappointed in everything, especially himself. harry found it sweet, of course, just how much you were willing to try for draco, but he ultimately saw it as a lost cause. if draco wanted to wallow in self-pity for knowingly being on the wrong side of the war, harry couldn't care less.

however, he cared for you, of course, so he respected your space around draco as harry knew he would only make things worse.

he was still determined to speak to you alone, so he figured out what classes you and draco had, both together and separately, and found a time where you would be alone. your last class of the day ended before draco's did, so harry waited by your classroom door until the bell rang.

once he saw you exit, talking with a friend, it took him a moment to build the courage to interrupt the conversation. but he knew he had to do this now, or else he'd never do it at all.

"[y/n]," harry said, coming up behind you and your friend. you both turned to him, your face instantly going pale. "oh," your friend had said, looking at you and harry before giving you a smirk and a simple goodbye.

you waved her off and turned back to harry, a complex look on your face. harry smiled tightly. "i was, um, wondering if we could speak, just for a moment," harry stumbles through his words, gesturing to an empty hall to your right. you take a moment to look around you, but nod at him and head around the corner to the less used hallway.

harry sighs as you turn to him, arms crossed, watching intently. "uh, look," harry says awkwardly, his hands going to his head in stress. "just, since everything that's happened, i've been thinking a lot…" harry continues, not able to look at you.

"i'm sure you have," you say softly. your voice is a mix of sincerity and sarcasm. it stings. harry can tell you're disappointed, angry, sad, and above all, completely hurt.

he chooses his next words carefully. "i'm sorry. for everything. for what happened with you and your family. for putting you through so much. for treating you how i did. i let my anger for draco and your family get in the way of my judgment." harry says softly, staring at the ground. "you didn't deserve that. none of you did. and i'll live with the guilt forever."

you're still watching harry, your weight shifting to the side, arms slowly uncrossing.

"i'm not asking you to forgive me. i just wanted to say sorry." harry sighs, sneaking a look at you before quickly looking away down the hall. your expression is unreadable. confusion, shock, sadness.

you leave a few moments of silence before replying, thinking of what you want to say to harry after all these years. you clear your throat, your hands folding together in front of you. "you should be sorry," you say simply.

harry's heart drops, but he's not surprised at your response. he knows you won't be easy to win over.

"i grew up idolizing you, harry. do you know how heartbreaking it was for you to hate me because of something i can't control?" your voice is breaking, your eyes turning away from him as well. harry doesn't move or respond. he knows he deserves to hear this.

you sigh shakily, trying to regain control. "but," you say sharply, causing harry to look towards you. your eyes were still diverted, nervously wringing your hands together. "there's no guilt to be had. you didn't do anything. you didn't choose this life. everything that happened to all of us was happening to you too." you say flatly.

you glance at harry, who's surprised at your words. "you were just a kid, harry." you tell him softly. harry's eyes threaten to tear up as he turns his head away quickly. you look back down the hall in front of you. "but so was i, and i didn't deserve that from you. so, yes, while i don't forgive you yet, i do accept your apology." you say with a suppressed smile. harry also has a small smile on his cheeks from what you can see.

another few moments of silence pass before harry sighs, relieved. "well, thank you."

the bell rings, and harry's heart drops. draco. he's going to be looking for you. he turns to the other hallway before looking back at you. "i guess i better go," he says. you smile sadly at him. "yeah. guess so." you say quietly.

harry gives you a sad smile too before leaving you behind, looking around to make sure draco wasn't close by before leaving down the hall.

harry wasn't afraid of draco. he never had been, but he certainly didn't want to see how he'd react to harry talking to his sister, even just casually. harry understands to an extent, if he had a sister he'd never let her near draco–but that's because he's draco. harry's a good guy, and he'd treat you well.

harry shakes his head at his thoughts.

what is he doing? he just wanted to apologize to you. nothing more. just because you make his heart flutter and are probably the most beautiful girl he'll ever know doesn't mean he has to like you. even though harry can't deny just how much he admired you for what you sacrificed during the war. when you turned your back to lucius and narcissa, your face stained with tears, hands in a fist, harry remembers thinking this must be what an angel looks like in real life. all of the evil in the world at your fingertips to corrupt you and you were strong enough, smart enough, to say no to it all in the face of war.

but that didn't have to mean anything, right?

right. harry could appreciate what you've done and still keep his distance with you. he apologized for his behavior, and you might've proved his suspicions about you to be wrong, but you were still a malfoy. one good, precious apple out of the entire rotten orchard isn't going to change his mind.

the next day, harry's just splitting ways with hermione outside the library when he catches your eye from down the hall. "harry!" you call out, walking quickly in his direction.

harry turns to you, instinctively smiling before letting his face go blank. "[y/n]," he says, surprised, as you come up beside him. "what's wrong?"

you laugh a bit, giving harry a look. "what? nothing's wrong. i figured we could maybe eat lunch together."

harry's a bit stunned. he takes a look around you both. obviously you had been alone, but he was still a bit suspicious of draco's absence. you two had been practically glued together this last year or so, it was almost odd to see you without him.

"oh, sure, um…" harry says, still shocked as he continues scanning the faces around you. you laugh again, putting your hand on harry's arm as you guide him to the dining hall. "just us, don't worry. draco's sick in bed for the day."

harry's a bit relieved at your words, but gets the sense that you think harry's afraid of draco seeing you two together. he might not want it to happen for one reason or another, but he's not afraid. he just wants to be respectful. though he's not entirely sure why, as draco has never given him the same in return.

sitting down at an empty spot at the gryffindor table, you start making a plate for yourself with the plentiful food options in front of you. harry sits across from you, his heart racing thinking about everyone seeing [y/n] malfoy and harry potter spending time together. weren't they well-known enemies of the school? i thought they hated each other? what does draco think about this?

harry started eating his food along with you, a comfortable but strange silence falling over you two. he wasn't sure if he should break it by asking why you wanted to meet with him, and he wasn't sure if he really wanted to know why.

after a few minutes, you wipe your face with a napkin and set down your utensils. "harry, i wanted to tell you something."

really? harry's heart could only beat harder. that was the last thing he wanted to hear from you right now. he was already practically sweating from the anxiety.

harry waits patiently for you, his eyes fixed on yours. he notices just how pretty they are in comparison to your skin, hair, lips, it just all makes sense together, like someone was extensively planning a beautiful painting when it came to your features.

you seem a tad nervous before looking down at your food and continuing. "i've decided i would like to try and be friends, if you'd like that." you seem flustered, almost embarrassed to ask. "i know there's been a lot of complications since year 3 when i first asked to be civil, but…y'know, like i already let spill, i've really admired you my whole life and…"

harry has never seen you so nervous. it was totally endearing, your mannerisms, your quiet voice, like a pet wanting approval.

"and, i think i would just really love to spend some time with you. and learn how to forgive you, of course." you add on the last part with a bit of coldness. it subtly reminds harry of draco. but you flash him a smirk before taking another bite of food, and it's like draco never existed.

harry smiles warmly. just a year ago if you had asked him this he would've laughed in your face and ignored you because it angered him that you think you two could ever be friends. but harry's changed a lot since then, he sees the human in you, and he's no longer suspicious of your intentions. though his guard is still up, he's not sure it'll ever really come down, he wants to reach out to you now.

with another bite of his food as well, harry casually nods his head. "yeah, i think we could be friends."

more silence passes before you finish your plate. "well, to commemorate our newfound friendship," you say as you raise your glass to him. harry chuckles. "a toast after we've already eaten?" he asks incredulously. you roll your eyes slightly, a smile still poking at your lips. "just do it, potter."

potter. the nickname can only remind him of draco. but somehow, it feels different coming from your mouth, in your voice. it's not harsh, it's not condescending, if anything it's full of love and care. it's admirable.

harry picks up his own glass and clinks it against yours, still chuckling to himself. "to newfound friendship."

it had been a few weeks of you and harry hanging out, and he was over the moon about it. you two had wonderful chemistry together, he'd come to learn, and your sense of humor was enthralling to him. you were always able to get a smile out of him, even sometimes just from a single look. you both enjoyed reading and would spend hours at the library together, you enjoyed going to harry's last few quidditch matches of the year to cheer him on, and harry loved helping you study for your exams. the more time you spent together, the more harry had let his guard down around you. you were really starting to grow on him. he found himself thinking about you all the time, and not in a negative way like he used to for so many years.

now, when he thought of or saw you, his heart ached with how much he truly cared about you. he thought about the night you two ended up sneaking out together simply just to talk under the moonlight, where you told him everything about your complicated relationship with your family. he told you all about his fight against voldemort, the months he spent looking for horcruxes, and what it was like being the chosen one at such a young age. he remembers how intently you watched and listened to him. he had never met someone so intrigued by his life and feelings. you were extremely empathetic to what he had gone through, and it was refreshing to harry. he remembers looking at you under the moon, and thinking you were truly the most beautiful thing in the world, inside and out.

when he thought of or saw you, he remembered the time you spent together just before christmas, exchanging presents in the solitary of his bedroom. simple, small gifts wrapped perfectly and neatly with sentimental value for both of you. he thought about the hug you gave him as you left his room, his gift still in hand, holding him for a few moments longer than you normally did. the way you'd said, "happy christmas, harry," with the softest, sweetest voice in the world.

when harry thought of or saw you, all he could think about was the care and admiration he had for you that only grew with time. at first.

then, he thought about draco.

harry always thought about draco when he was with you. not that he wanted to, he wished he could focus all his attention on you in the moment, but you were still his sister. harry was reminded each time you gave him a bit of attitude or curled your lips away from him that you were, in fact, still a malfoy, and your time spent with him wouldn't be looked at favorably by anyone in your family. most especially draco.

harry never brought up the prospect of your family unprompted. he knew it was a sensitive subject, but he also knew it would never end well with you. one way or another, by the end of the school year, harry was leaving and you couldn't follow. as much as he loved being around you and valued your budding friendship, he knew it was destined to fail from the beginning. he was everything your family hated and spent their lives working against. he was the chosen one. though he's sacrificed many aspects of his life because of this title, you will undoubtedly be his most painful.

and he certainly never brought up draco, as the idea itself made him sick to his stomach. it was bad enough you were related to him, but the fact that you spent pretty much every moment with draco when you weren't with harry made his skin crawl. he knew your relationship with him was not negotiable. you loved draco so deeply it was almost foreign to harry. the way you talked about him that night under the moon and the experiences he's had to go through did make harry empathize with him more than he had previously, but he was still full of anger and hatred for the little blonde boy who tried to make harry's school years a living hell.

he was thinking this over as he examined a framed picture of your family sitting on your nightstand. harry had been to your room quite a few times this year to hang out, and he was always intrigued by this specific picture. your parents, sitting in elegant thrones with you and draco on either side. you looked so out of place. not because of your stance or expression, but you just simply looked different. if harry had never known, he would've never guessed you were born into the malfoy family.

"that's a terrible photo," you laugh at harry as you continue working on an assignment. you had asked him to come help you, but really you just wanted his presence near you. harry knew this. once he figured out that most of your invitations to "study together" just meant you wanted to be near him for an hour or so every day, he was extremely grateful to provide his help. he didn't mind being around you at all, actually.

"it's…definitely something," harry laughs off, taking his attention away from the photo and topic in general.

harry sits beside you on the bed, your back on your pillows as he sits with his feet on the ground. harry's just about to bring up something when you lean towards him, holding your book in your lap. "hey, can you explain this to me?" you ask, still looking down at your assignment on the other page. "i've read this like 10 times and i still don't get it," you point out a paragraph for harry as you scoot closer to him.

harry leans in, closer than he's ever been with you, and reads the passage to himself quietly. as he's reading, he can see you shifting nervously beside him. your hands were delicately holding the book open for him, still resting on your legs, his head just below yours.

"oh, uh, i think it's talking about…" harry starts off, trying to reread the difficult wording of the section. "bloody hell," he mumbles, frustrated, reaching for the book himself to get a better look at the paragraph. you chuckle breathily, and it hits the back of harry's neck. he immediately gets chills.

he looks up towards you, and your face is nearly touching his. he would've moved away sooner but he'd be damned if he didn't take this opportunity to truly appreciate just how deeply beautiful your eyes were right now.

not a moment later, your door opens from behind harry, and he doesn't even have to look to know who it is.

you both turn slowly to see draco standing in the doorway, his eyes flashing between you and harry sitting so closely on your bed. "dray," you gasp, standing up from beside harry.

harry's frozen. the look on draco's face is one of shock and disappointment. his lips curled down tightly, a familiar darkness growing in his eyes as he focuses on harry sitting on his sister's bed.

"so. i was right. you have been avoiding me." draco says towards you as he continues to glare at harry. harry stands with you, anger slowly growing inside of him for the situation at hand. this is the last way he wanted draco to find out you two were friends.

"dray, he was just helping–""i don't wanna hear it, [y/n]." draco interrupts you. this only pisses harry off more as his jaw clenches tightly.

a moment of silence passes briefly before draco speaks again. "i told you to stay away from him, did i somehow not make that clear?" draco's eyes divert to you, his stare even colder looking at you. you're stumbling looking for your words, but harry's anger gets the best of him in the moment.

"she can make her own decisions, malfoy."

draco's eyes snap back to harry, his fists balling up at his sides. your hand instinctively goes in front of harry as you step towards draco. "it would be wise of you to shut your bloody mouth now, potter. you were the one all over my baby sister in her bed just a moment ago." draco's words are leaking with rage, taking steps closer towards harry.

"dray, stop it," you warn him, now standing between him and harry.

"[y/n], you can't be fucking serious right now. you've loathed him for years. we both have. what are you doing? have you lost your mind? i'm genuinely asking," draco is dumbfounded at his sister's actions, scanning you up and down.

"that's not even true, draco, and you know that." you tell him in a cracking voice, tears stinging your eyes. harry wants nothing more than to save you from the heartache you're experiencing in this moment. part of him wants to hurt draco for making you cry. but, inside, harry knows you would want to handle this by yourself. anything he did to hurt draco was inadvertently hurting you as well.

"harry has been nothing but a good friend to me this semester. he's even helped me pass my exams. don't do this to me right now," you tell draco slowly, tears still threatening to fall.

draco rolls his eyes at your last statement. "oh, do what? try and keep you safe? you're being utterly ridiculous right now, [y/n], and you and i both know it."

harry can sense there's something he's missing here. you and draco keep referencing something you both understand that harry doesn't seem to.

you're clearly frustrated as the first few tears start to fall down your cheeks. "i know what i'm doing, dray. please, don't you trust me?" you ask desperately, your voice shaking.

draco softens watching you fall apart in front of him. his eyes aren't as dark, his fists come undone, and he sighs as he breaks his stare at you.

"of course i do." he states simply, his voice now more solemn than angry.

"then trust me when i say i trust harry," you say. draco winces at your statement. "i know there's complicated feelings there but i love you, dray, and i want to be honest about who i'm spending my time with," you level with draco, taking a step towards him.

he glances towards harry, a look of disdain still lingering in his eyes, but looks at you with an apologetic look. "you should've been honest from the beginning," he insists.

you sigh. "i know. i'm sorry. i felt terrible lying to you. you have to understand it was killing me, dray…" your voice breaks again as you try to compose yourself. "but you know how i've felt for a long time."

harry can't decipher the tone in your last statement, but you say it so convincingly he breaks his stare from draco to look down at you, tear-stained cheeks and, still, your eyes are so beautiful to harry. he looks back at draco, who's watching him in disgust before looking back at you lovingly.

draco's analyzing your expression as his body relaxes. he sighs again, bringing you in for a hug.

harry steps to the side awkwardly as you and draco hug for a moment. you're still sniffling by the time he pulls away, wiping your cheeks with a gentle thumb. harry watches closely. it's so strange to see draco this soft in his presence. not even harry could get in the way of draco's clear dedication to you as more than a brother, but as a protector.

for a moment, harry saw a side of draco he knew existed but never fully realized was so strong.

"i know, [y/n/n]. it's okay. i'm sorry." draco tells you softly, his hands still holding your cheeks. you smile, tearfully, putting your hands on his before holding them in front of you. draco takes them back, fixing his shirt before looking at harry with a blank expression.

harry stays quiet. there's a lot he wants to say, but he waits for draco to break the silence.

"as for you, potter…" draco says, his voice less angry than before but still contained. harry looks at him expectedly. he's easily taller than draco now, and practices for quidditch way more than draco does anymore, so harry definitely has some muscle on him. if he were to ever try anything, harry wasn't afraid.

draco takes a moment to collect his thoughts before speaking. "while my beautiful sister is putting it lightly, my feelings towards you are more than complicated," he spits out, the anger seeping through before he breaks his stare and controls himself. "but," he says, a softness in his voice.

"she's a smart girl, and i trust that she's not making a mistake spending her time with you." draco looks at you with a hint of a smile before looking back at harry with a stoic expression. "and while i may not like it, we're adults now, and i'm no longer a threat to you," draco says simply before his face sours. "unless you so much as upset her just once, i swear to merlin potter–""draco." you interrupt his rage harshly, your eyes cold as ice as you caught his gaze.

harry smirks, but wipes it away so as to not make the situation worse. draco lets out an annoyed huff before apologizing to you curtly.

"well, best be on my way then, don't want to interrupt you two," draco says with a sneer, turning to the door. "i'll still see you for dinner tonight, right?" you ask eagerly, following and opening the door for draco. he nods. "of course," he says simply, leaning in to give you a gentle kiss on top of your head. with another dirty look at harry, draco turns and leaves silently.

you close the door with a shaky sigh, and harry's immediately coming to your side to comfort you. "[y/n], i'm so sorry that happened how it did. i never wanted to cause issues with you and draco," he explains, his hand instinctively reaching for your back to rub it comfortingly.

you're still collecting yourself, facing the door, turned away from harry as you sniffle and wipe your eyes. "it's okay," you say in a broken voice.

harry's heart aches at the sound. all he wants is to comfort you, hold you close, tell you it's okay to cry with him…

but he doesn't, because he knows he shouldn't.

"it's not okay, look how upset you are," harry says, bending down slightly to your height. "look, i wouldn't be upset if you told me you didn't want to see me anymore. your relationship with draco is important to you, and the last thing i want to do is complicate it," harry tells you softly.

you snap your head at him with a concerned look, eyes red from crying. "wh-what? no, i…don't say that," you stutter over yourself. you take a step towards harry, only a few inches apart at this point.

"harry, i want you in my life. even if draco didn't understand i would still…" you trail off, your eyes starting to water again as you blink the tears away. "i want you, harry," you say, your voice trembling with fear.

harry's mind is spinning hearing you say this. he's looking down at you, so close to him, so vulnerable, willing to lose what's closest to you just for him. you're so beautiful, so full of light, and so much more complex than he ever imagined. he's never felt so many feelings about one person so intensely all at once.

the only thing he knows, the only thing he can rely on, is that he wants you too.

harry's lost in your eyes for several seconds before he can respond. "i want you in my life, too," he says just above a whisper.

you smile, still a bit sad, but you seem fulfilled with his answer. stepping back and towards your bed, still wiping your eyes, you chuckle half-heartedly to yourself. "didn't think you'd see me cry so easily," you say, a little embarrassed as you shake your head. "i tried to fight it, but…" you continued laughing to yourself.

harry followed you, still giving you your space. he watched as you sat down on your bed with a sigh, your body still shaking from the rush. "it's okay to cry," he says, holding himself back from what he really wants to say. "i'm just sorry it happened this way,"

you give harry a half smile before looking away nervously. "he was going to figure it out soon, anyways. i've been spending more and more time 'studying with the girls' than i ever have, and he was getting suspicious," you tell him, shaking your head again.

harry chuckles to himself. he found it sweet that you made excuses to spend time with him, even if it meant sacrificing time with draco. he felt special, he couldn't lie. "so, i'm one of the girls now?" harry teases, crossing his arms with a smirk. you roll your eyes, holding in a giggle. "shut up," you whine, your cheeks going red. "it was the only thing i could come up with, okay?"

"no, no, it's funny," harry says with a shrug. you still give him a look, but reach for your textbook you left at the end of the bed. "whatever. can you just help me now?" you ask, still holding back a laugh with a suppressed smile.

harry just laughs and agrees, joining the bed next to you as he attempts to help you with the assignment. soon it was like draco was never there, and you were back to laughing, joking, sitting in comfortable silence together until you had to leave for dinner.

with a quick hug and a lingering goodbye, you separated down the hall from each other. harry thought about you the entire way to his room, and for the rest of the night by himself. it's not like harry never thought about you, of course, he certainly did more than he thought he should, but tonight was just different. he thought about what you said to draco, how you defended him so quickly, how you put yourself on the line to ask for draco's trust in that moment. it was like watching you turn your back on your family all over again.

harry had to admit he felt guilty. he's really grown to care about you since getting closer with you, and he hates to think he's constantly going to get in the way of your relationship with your family like he has already. just by being his friend you're already putting so much at risk, he'd hate to think about what would happen if things ever went further…

harry really has stop having these thoughts about you. he's just your friend, and he doesn't even know how he feels about you. sure, his feelings aren't complicated with anger or hatred anymore, but if anything they're even more confusing now. harry knew this would happen, that's why he built that wall between you and him in the first place. some part of him just knew one day you would be trouble.

but now, on the other side of that wall, harry was ready for the trouble. he was going to take it head on.

he didn't care what draco thought, or your parents, or anyone else, not even himself. all he cared about was that you made him happy, and he seemed to have the same affect on you. as long as harry focused on that, the rest was just noise.

a few months later the snow was melting, the school year was wrapping up, and you and harry were still going strong. as friends, anyway.

things became a lot more natural between you and harry after draco walked in on you two that day. you no longer felt the need to hide your time spent with harry. you were bringing him everywhere and he was doing the same with you. you got along perfectly with ron and hermione despite their hesitations at first, even becoming especially close to hermione with all of your similar interests and beliefs.

harry eventually met your friends too and got along with them just as well. soon you were together pretty much every day studying with friends, playing quidditch for fun, or going to diagon alley to window shop. harry more than enjoyed his time spent with you, and felt empty on the days he couldn't manage to see you for even a moment. you were so full of light you just made everything better, and harry couldn't get enough of it.

in fact, it was over this time that harry started to figure out that maybe what he was feeling towards you was more than just complicated guilt. maybe he didn't just really care about you, or find you really pretty, or really wanted to hold you when you were sad or scared; maybe, just maybe, he was starting to really like the malfoy sister.

this came as no surprise to him once he figured it out, really. since the literal first minute he saw you at just 12 years old he knew you were special. he was mesmerized from the moment you entered his life. even through every crush and short-lived girlfriend he's had these past few years, you were always more interesting to him.

it took a long time for harry to come around to his own feelings and emotions. he's simply never had the time to truly work out why he feels what he feels, or what causes certain sensations in his body. all he knew was that your eyes made his heart ache in a way that nobody else's did. not because he hates you, but, really, quite the opposite, actually.

even if he came to terms with his growing feelings for you, he tried to not let them get in the way of your friendship together. you were constantly thanking harry for dedicating his time to you, for spending long nights just talking with you, for helping you in every way he possibly could. he knew how much you valued your friendship with him, and so did he, so he pushed those other feelings to the side and tried to keep things friendly between you two.

however, it was getting to a point where harry could barely spend more than a few minutes thinking about anything outside of you. he brought you up constantly when you weren't around, everything reminded him of you, his entire mind was stained with you and it was starting to have an effect. ron and hermione had teased him for being so lovesick for a malfoy, which he shrugged off. he knew you were different, you weren't just a malfoy, you were entirely your own. he'd never met someone like you, you made him feel things he didn't even know were possible.

soon harry knew his feelings would grow to the point that they would begin interfering with how he acted with you. you already made him nervous just by being so pretty and comfortable around him, constantly making jokes and teasing him in a friendly way that just made harry feel so giddy inside. he knew soon his thoughts of you would start to get in the way of how he looked at you, how he talked to you, and it scared him. harry couldn't lose you now, you'd very quickly become an important part of his life that made him feel complete. his silly crush could never matter as much as his friendship with you.

there was a dinner being held for the last year students this weekend, and harry was trying to figure out a casual way to ask you to go with him so it felt friendly. he didn't want to be too casual and make you think he was asking as a last minute effort, but he also didn't want to be too formal and make you think he'd been thinking about this date for months. which, in reality, he had, and it was stressing him out.

harry finally figured he would just ask you like he'd ask you to do anything else with him, but he also wanted to wait for the right moment. however, he was running out of time, and you had been unexpectedly busy this past week so he's barely seen you. it's only a few days until then, and he still hasn't even found a formal outfit to wear, because he might not even go if you're not beside him.

luckily, harry had planned a time to meet with you tonight to 'study', which, again, usually involved you two sitting with open books as you chat about everything except class.

harry was on his way to the slytherin common room, a pep in his step as he tried to encourage himself to ask you without fear of rejection or judgment. it's just you, he knows you'll be kind either way, but he really wants you to say yes and he's not sure how he'll react to any other answer.

upon entering, you're already sitting and waiting for him on the sofa. slumped into the curve of the cushions, your nose buried in a book as your head is held up with a throw pillow. harry thinks you look so precious, all curled up with a book, it's tough for him to break you out of your daze.

but harry clears his throat, and you jump a little before smiling at him. "harryyy," you call out, closing your book as you throw your arms up for a hug.

harry comes over and leans down to give you a half hug. he doesn't realize just how much he's missed you until he catches a whiff of your perfume, and he's practically melting over you once again. everything about you intoxicates him.

"i've missed you, [y/n]," harry says before letting go. he sits across from you on the sofa, setting his bag down on the ground beside his feet. "i've missed you too, sorry things got so crazy," you laugh.

harry waves his hand at you. "don't worry about it. i'm just glad you were free tonight," he says, admiring you in the light of the fireplace. you just get more beautiful with time. something about you tonight is different, maybe it's your hair, maybe it's your comfy clothes, but harry's completely captivated by you in this moment.

you catch up with each other briefly, with harry mostly happily listening to you describe all the time you've spent with friends recently and the projects you've been working on for classes. he loves to listen to you tell stories, he just finds you so funny and endearing and could listen to you laugh all day if you'd let him.

after a while, harry builds the courage to bring up the dinner this weekend. he's just about to open his mouth when someone comes down the stairs into the common room.

draco, of course.

his icy stare lands on harry, and his face naturally twists in disgust. he looks at you, and the disgust drops to a neutral expressions. "[y/n]. potter." he says simply.

"hey, dray, where are you off to?" you ask, your eyes gesturing to his bag. draco shrugs, his eyes returning to harry with disdain. "just going out for a bit. need new shoes for dinner this saturday." he says, making his way to the door as he adjusts his over-the-shoulder bag.

"oh, shit, i forgot that's this weekend. do you have your suit?" you ask, your face dropping in concern. "i've got it. i'll see you later, okay?" draco says curtly as he opens the door. "okay," you say with a smile, waving as he leaves.

harry was suddenly hit with a realization he hadn't thought of before. of course. he felt so stupid not even considering it. what if you were already going with draco? he's your brother, and practically your best friend, of course you'd have to go with him.

harry tried not to think about draco much anymore, so it must've slipped his mind. he's seen him a few times since that day in your room when he found out you two were friends. mostly in passing, like what just happened, or in an awkward exchange as you went from hanging out with draco to spending time with harry like some strange divorced parent agreement.

other than that, draco was just your brother to harry, and though you brought him up a number of times, he was mostly a topic to avoid. so, harry forgot, and now he's even more nervous to ask you if you'd rather go to dinner with him this weekend.

"it's crazy draco's going to his last year dinner already…" you interrupt harry's thoughts, your voice trailing off. harry looks at you, and you're lost in thought. you look at him and smirk, reaching to push his shoulder. "and so are you! damn, you're old," you joke, trying to hide your laugh.

harry rolls his eyes, but you manage to get a laugh out of him. "have you asked someone yet? draco's taking that greengrass girl i believe, or at least he wanted to if he hasn't already chickened out," you say, still laughing.

harry can breathe a sigh of relief. he's not sure what he would've done if you were already going with draco. he had been trying to plan the perfect night since christmas.

"uh, actually, since you've already asked, i was hoping that you'd maybe like to join me?" harry asks, his eyes nervously shifting away from yours.

"oh," you say, clearly taken aback. harry's gaze meet yours again, and he's instantly sweating at your reaction. "unless, y'know, you don't want to, or…i'm sure someone's asked you already," harry interjects, trying to laugh it off entirely.

you're watching harry closely, your cheeks slowly turning red. "um, no, actually, no one's asked, and…i would love to go with you, i just…" you trail off again, your eyes still wide with surprise.

harry prepares himself for rejection. he knows there's a number of reasons you'd say no, and draco's at the top of the list.

"frankly, i have nothing to wear," you say, a bit embarrassed as your blush only deepens. harry breathes yet another sigh of relief. you always manage to put him through so many emotions and you don't even realize it.

"you could be wearing a paper bag and i'd just be glad you're standing next to me," harry tells you with a laugh. you drop your head, clearly flustered.

when you look up at harry, you have a shy smile pinching your cheeks. he thinks you look so adorable, knees to your chest, completely flushed, giggling like a nervous school girl. "well, then, i'd love to go with you, harry. but no paper bag. maybe after dinner." you tease him.

harry laughs with you, but part of him wonders if you're flirting with him a bit.

the rest of the night was spent joking, laughing, and enjoying the warmth of the fire together. before harry left, you thanked him for asking you, even if it was such short notice you'd have to spend all day shopping tomorrow. "don't feel pressured, i'm sure you'd look beautiful in whatever you already have," harry had told you, eager to get a blush out of you again.

when you did, harry smiled proudly and gave you a warm hug goodbye. he was practically skipping back to his room to tell ron he'd finally asked you, and that you'd actually said yes. ron was happy for harry, teasing him for taking so long, but nothing could bring harry down. even if he just meant it as being friendly, as he's sure you did as well, this was still a date in his mind.

and, shit, he still needed an outfit.

the night of the dinner, harry waited patiently outside the dining hall doors with his gift for you in hand. there was a soft mumbling coming from the dining hall as people began gathering, speaking to each other, and listening to the small band playing instrumental music. however, all harry can hear is his blood pumping through his ears as he nervously waits to see you for the first time tonight.

harry went for a simple suit, all black, nothing too showy or special as he wasn't sure what you were wearing. he actually hadn't been able to speak with you since the night he asked you to come with him, only agreeing to meet you right here just before he'd left the slytherin common room. his heart was pounding, and he felt like a young teen again, waiting for his crush to come around the corner. but he wasn't a kid anymore, and you were so much more than just a first year crush. you were everything.

harry hears someone walking up behind him, and as he turns, he's instantly drawn to you. walking arm in arm with draco, also dressed in all black, you're wearing a dark green dress that fits you perfectly, hugging your waist and hips like it was tailor fit. it's floor-length, with an off-the-shoulder neckline, and your hair is twisted up into a curly, elegant bun, with multiple curls hanging out for a casual look.

your outfit and hair are nothing, however, in comparison to just how beautiful your smile is.

harry's absolutely captivated by you. he knew you'd look beautiful, like he said, you could make a paper bag work, but he didn't think it was possible for a single person to be so striking. he was sure he looked like a complete fool, jaw slack open as he stared into your beautiful eyes from down the hall, but he truly couldn't help himself. you were everything.

"[y/n]," he manages to say once you're closer. "you look incredible," he says, his eyes never leaving yours. you smile, turning towards draco with a growing blush.

harry looks at draco, who's already staring at him with a tight jaw and narrowed eyes.

"draco," harry greets him, trying to be courteous. "potter," draco spits out, seeing through him.

you slightly roll your eyes, motioning for draco to go into the dining hall without you. "i'm sure daphne's waiting for you," you tease him with a smirk, pushing him along. draco gives harry a dirty look the entire time he passes him, and even until he's left the hall.

harry can't bring himself to care. all he can think about right now is you.

he's so mesmerized by you he forgets he has something in his hands, nearly dropping the slim box before gripping it tightly again, clearing his throat to break his focus.

"what's that?" you ask, looking at the simple black box in harry's grasp. harry can hear the smirk in your voice, knowing it's for you.

"i-i don't know, guess you'll have to open it to see," he says, handing it over to you. you scoff at him, still smirking as you accept the gift.

upon opening it, you gasp. a beautiful necklace with green gemstones that match your dress perfectly. "harry…" you gasped, staring at the jewelry in your hands. "it's beautiful…and, my dress, how did you know?" you ask in disbelief. harry just chuckles. "you have green everything, my little slytherin," he reminds you.

you blush again, handing harry the necklace. "put it on me?" you ask, turning around and holding up the curls that might be in his way.

harry nervously unclasped the necklace and put it on you, taking extra care to let his hands graze across the skin of your neck more times than what was necessary.

as you turn around, harry's heart races. it's perfect. it matches your dress, it looks amazing on your skin, and it pulls your entire look together. it draws the perfect amount of attention to your beautiful shoulders and collarbones. harry was extra proud of himself for this one.

looking down at it, you touch the necklace carefully, admiring it. "i spent forever looking for a necklace for tonight, and i couldn't find one i liked, but…it's perfect, harry, thank you," you say, throwing your hands around harry's neck as you embrace him tightly. harry smiles, his heart still racing as he pulls you in close. "thank you for coming with me tonight. i didn't want to come at all if it wasn't with you." he tells you, placing a soft kiss on your head just in front of your curly bun. you give him a shy smile before pulling him to the dining room.

it was an incredible night together. ron and hermione had quickly found you both, and hermione was gushing over how good you looked the entire time. ron was watching her with so much love in his eyes it made harry a little sick, but he was happy for his friends. he gave ron a knowing look, which ron just shook his head at and escorted himself and hermione away to get drinks.

as you and harry made your rounds around the room, meeting up with friends and stopping to say hello to professors, harry noticed just how many people were watching you and whispering amongst themselves. you two had spent plenty of time together this year, so it wasn't necessarily a shock to see the boy who lived hanging out with the malfoy sister anymore, but people were seemingly still stunned by the fact that you came with him tonight, and that you looked as good as you did.

after a while of mingling, harry caught draco's stare from across the room. his arm was entwined with his date's, but his full attention was on you and harry. he rolled his eyes at harry and walked away, pulling his date with him. harry shrugged him off and his attention turned back to you.

beautiful, perfect, effortless you.

your arm was wrapped around his in the same way, as it had been all night. harry expected himself to be incredibly nervous and awkward tonight seeing you so dolled up to be his date, as a friend, of course. but he was surprised at how natural everything felt with you. it always had, nothing ever felt forced between you two, conversation and smiles seemed to just flow naturally without either of you trying. it just made sense to harry, being with you, holding you close to him, being together in front of everyone. it was all he'd wanted for so long.

sitting down to eat dinner, you quickly made conversation with hermione and ron as harry took the seat to your left, admiring you as you laughed with hermione over something he hadn't heard. you just looked so beautiful tonight under these candlelights, in the necklace harry picked out for you, the jewels falling just above the curve of your breasts spilling from your dark dress.

as you leaned forward to whisper something to hermione, harry got the perfect view of your chest from his seat, his eyes lingering for a moment too long before ron noticed and started snickering at him.

harry gave ron a look, kicking his foot under the table.

once dinner is served, the hall quiets as everyone enjoys their plates and drinks. some small talk is shared between bites, multiple glasses are drunk amongst you, ron, harry, and hermione, and the laughter continues throughout dinner.

before dessert comes, you and hermione take a short trip to the bathroom, leaving harry with ron. they laugh once they're alone, out of habit.

"i know i give you a hard time, but really, harry, i think [y/n]'s good for you. i haven't seen you this smitten in a long time, not since you dated my sister," ron teases, taking a sip of his drink as he chuckles to himself.

harry gives him a look, but can't help the smile growing on his face. "thanks, ron. but we're just here as friends. not like you and hermione," harry tries to turn the teasing back to ron, cocking his eyebrow with a knowing smile.

ron rolls his eyes. "please, at least i can say she's my girlfriend. you don't wanna be friends with [y/n] and you know it," ron responds, not giving in.

harry stays quiet.

as you and hermione return, giggling from across the table, you put a hand on harry's neck down to his shoulder to steady yourself as you sat in your dress.

harry got the shivers, but gave you a friendly smile as you met his eyes. you took back your hand, smiling at him in return.

while eating dessert, harry can feel draco staring at him again from somewhere in the room, but he can't bring himself to care enough to find his gaze. if draco wants to watch harry enjoy his date with draco's beautiful sister, he can spend all night watching for all that harry cares.

harry's thoughts are interrupted as he hears you let out a soft moan beside him. your spoon is left in your mouth as you pull it out slowly, your eyes closed delicately. harry watches discreetly, not wanting to draw ron and hermione's attention from their own conversation, but he's enamored with the way you let the spoon leave your lips, enjoying the dessert in front of you.

"so yummy," you say happily, your eyes rolling over to harry. he turns to look at you fully with a chuckle. "yes, very yummy," he teases you.

you narrow your eyes at him. "you're yummy," you tell him, laughing. harry's stunned before you continue. "i didn't even get to tell you, but you do look really good tonight, harry. you clean up well." you say softly, your words just for him.

harry's still a bit stunned, but tried to not let his nerves get in the way. "well, thank you, [y/n]. and, i never got to tell you as much as i should have tonight, but, you just…amaze me with how stunning you are," harry sighs, not caring how lovesick he looks as he continues to admire you, a true work of art sitting right beside him.

you chuckle, taking your bottom lip in your mouth. harry memorizes every detail of you, never wanting to forget how lucky he is to have you beside him tonight.

"thank you, harry. it was a bit difficult for me, all this, just reminds me of home…" you say, gesturing to the grand dinner party going on around you. harry gives you a sympathetic look and a reassuring hand on your knee. you look at him, your eyes sending more shivers down harry's spine.

"we can leave whenever you're ready," harry tells you with a soft smile and lingering gaze. "you just say the word and we'll go 'study' in pajamas," he's only half joking.

you laugh at him again, but harry believes it's full of love. "there's nowhere i'd rather be," you assure him, putting your own hand on his knee.

harry blushes like crazy at the contact, but just laughs you off again.

after dessert the band starts playing more upbeat music, and the floor is cleared towards the front of the room for people to dance. you pull harry to the floor, along with a number of other couples, and start dancing with him. harry's not a very skilled dancer, so he just follows your lead and has fun moving around with you randomly, letting himself be free as the music and other people dancing relaxes his nerves.

after a while of dancing separately, you grab harry's hand and begin dancing closer to him, still laughing and smiling as you twirl yourself around, making him laugh as well. harry starts playfully moving with you, bringing you closer to him and further away, again and again until you're a giggling mess in his arms, practically falling all over him.

just as harry's enjoying the feeling of you in his arms, draco comes out of nowhere just beside him. "[y/n]," he snaps, trying to contain himself.

you look at draco, your smile fading at his irritated expression. "i'm leaving, just thought you should know." his words bitter, examining you entwined in harry's arms.

"draco," you start to say, but he's already making his way around you to the back door. you try to go after him instinctually, but harry pulls you back. "stay here, i'll talk to him," he says, surprising both you and himself as you turn to look at him. hermione comes up beside harry, watching the interaction from afar.

"harry…" you warn him. but harry gives you a reassuring squeeze of the hand, already heading for the door himself. "trust me?" he says, letting you go and turning away as hermione grabs your hand instead and begins asking what happened.

as harry enters the hallway, he sees draco's turned back heading away from the dining hall.

"draco," harry calls out, causing draco to stop in his tracks.

he turns to harry, an odd look on his face before he scoffs. "did she really send you to try and talk to me, or are you just dumber than i originally thought?" draco responds, shoving his hand in his pocket.

"no, i came to talk to you. i'm tired of this, draco. can't you just let [y/n] and i be friends?" harry asks, trying to contain his own anger.

draco only rolls his eyes harder, making his way towards harry with an angry step. "oh, please, potter, you're not fooling anyone. and, frankly, neither is she anymore." draco retorts, stopping a few feet away from harry with a nod to the dining hall doors.

harry's confused at his statement, and draco can tell just from the look on his face, which only makes him angrier. "you're clearly shagging my sister. and to top it all off, you made her your little date for the night in front of everyone here. and, honestly, you should be kissing the ground i walk on for letting you even so much as look at her, you fucking pig." draco's words are dripping venom, clearly having the words ready to spew in harry's face.

harry is dumbfounded, and actually outwardly laughs at draco's statement. draco takes another step towards harry, visibly turning red with anger. "don't make me fucking kill you, i'd hate to hurt my sister's feelings like that."

harry just continues to chuckle, his arms crossing. "well, as flattered as i am that you think she'd shag me, we're just friends. really." harry informs him, a smirk on his face.

draco looks at him confused, his expression falling for only a moment before returning. "well then, you still clearly like her. and you're not very good at hiding it, either." he says, his voice faltering as he steps back.

harry can't disagree with him there. as much as he hates draco, he's not going to lie to him and say he doesn't have feelings for his sister when he knows he does. it's just not right.

"and so what if i do, huh? it's our last month of classes, malfoy. after this you'll never hear her talk about me again. is that what you want? because that's what's going to happen." harry says, his anger seeping through again as he admits what he believes to be true.

draco is in even more disbelief than before. he just looks at harry like he's joking. "are you being serious or are you trying to fuck with me?" he asks, examining harry from head to toe.

harry's even more confused. "what?"

draco turns away, chuckling to himself in both disbelief and anger. "i was right, you are dumber than i thought," he starts out, giving harry a look before turning away again. harry's hands ball into fists before he releases them, letting out an angry huff.

"[y/n]'s clearly all over you, spending all her time with you, you're all she ever bloody talks about anymore, fucking hell i thought you were shagging her, for god's sake," draco rants, his back still turned to harry. "she's been obsessed with you since we were kids. all she ever asked me, 'what's harry like, draco? is harry potter really that brave, draco?' blah blah blah," draco mocks you in a high pitched voice.

"and just when i thought she had found some sense in her and loathed you along with me for a few years, you trapped her again with your fucking namesake and…god knows what else she sees in you," draco sneers back at harry, turning to him once again.

"so yeah, excuse me while i watch my baby sister, my only solace in this lifetime, practically throw herself all over you at this pathetic party," draco gestures back to the room, his eyes cold as ice as he continues staring through harry.

harry's stunned by draco's outburst, but is more stunned that he thinks you may like harry back.

they stand there for a moment, examining each other, draco breathing heavily and unevenly as he tries to regain his composure.

harry's not sure exactly what he should say to him in this moment, so he just speaks the truth, the only thing he knows. "i care about [y/n], draco,"

draco rolls his eyes for another time. "no, really, draco. i do, and i have this whole time. i don't know if she feels the same, but, quite honestly, i don't care. all i know is that she makes me happy, and i hope i can do the same for her. that's all." harry tells draco, his eyes searching for a response.

draco just watches harry for a moment, his expression unreadable as he finds the words to respond.

he sighs, his body language completely shifting as he turns away from harry, his hand covering his face in distress. "you're an idiot if you think she doesn't. she turned her back on us, on me, because she was fighting for you. she was never like my parents." draco says softly, his anger fading.

"she was fighting for what was right." harry reminds him, making draco laugh sarcastically as he moves on.

"you know, she's the only thing i care about. the only person i not only tolerate, but actually love." draco says even softer before turning to scowl at harry again. "when she chose you that day, i wasn't surprised. i wasn't even mad. [y/n]'s always been that way. it's part of the reason why i keep her so close to me." draco's words are the nicest they've been directed at harry all night.

"now i know you wouldn't understand family love, potter," draco smirks, causing harry to bite his tongue. "but that girl is everything to me. when she trusts you, when she believes in you, when she turned her back to me in hopes i could see what she sees in you…" draco trails off a bit before turning away again.

"i know she's right."

harry's more than shocked at draco's words. he can barely process his sentiment before draco continues talking, making his way down the hall.

"so, again, i may not like it, but i'll try to be civil. if you, just, please, potter," draco turns one last time, a slight smirk on his face. "for my sake. just ask the damn girl on a date so she'll shut the hell up about it."

with that, draco's gone and around the corner, out of harry's sight.

harry's left alone with his thoughts, the muffled music from the dining hall filling the air around him.

he can hardly comprehend what draco's just told him, both about you and about his belief in harry. but mostly when it comes to you.

you. alone in the dining hall.

just as harry turns, you're opening the door, your sweet face twisted with worry as you search the halls behind him. "where's draco?" you ask urgently, making your way out of the doorway as it closes behind you.

harry's hands go to your shoulders, and you look at him. he smiles down at you, his mind spinning as he examines your beautiful face still pointed with concern.

"he's fine. we talked."

you give harry another shocked look like earlier, your mouth slightly open. "you and draco?" you ask in disbelief.

harry just chuckles at you, looking you up and down again to fully appreciate just how good you looked in front of him. "have i told you how beautiful you look tonight?" harry asks, his eyes still wandering. knowing you seem to like him as well, harry takes this opportunity to test the waters with you.

you instantly blush, but you give harry a knowing look. "yes, harry. now, what did you talk about?" you ask suspiciously.

harry, again, just chuckles, pulling you to his side as he turns to the hall. "let's get out of here, hm?" he asks, already leading you away.

"oh, but, hermione and ron?" you ask suddenly, gesturing back to the party. harry shakes his head. "they won't mind."

you're a bit confused as harry continues to lead you towards the gryffindor common room, but he distracts you with plenty of compliments and questions asking if you enjoyed yourself tonight.

harry then leads you to his room where his nerves finally hit him. he had been confident until now, but it was make or break time. if draco was right and you did actually like harry, he was finally ready to make his move.

what that move was exactly, he's not sure.

but again, things with you are so natural, and once you close the door, it only feels right for harry to come up to you against the doorway. he smiles down at you, a nervous, blushing, beautiful angel just within his grasp.

without thinking, harry's mouth does the talking for him.

"[y/n]," he starts, his heart racing as you look up at him innocently. "can i kiss you?"

you're clearly shocked by his question, but don't miss the chance to eagerly nod your head, already leaning towards harry. he smiles, gently pushing you against the door as his lips finally lock with yours.

the kiss is urgent, needy, but full of longing and love. your hands find their way to harry's neck instantly, and his continue to linger against your shoulders. your body arches into his, clearly already wanting more just from a short kiss.

harry isn't stopping anytime soon though, as he's thought of this moment longer than he's planned to ask you to dinner tonight.

he savors everything about your kiss. your enchanting smell, the softness of your lips, the moans rumbling from the back of your throat; all of it is driving him crazy, but he's insistent on enjoying the moment for what it simply was. a kiss he's wanted so long from a beautiful girl he thought he could never have.

however, you're not as keen on savoring anything as you only become more desperate under harry's lips. your tongue is quickly involved, though harry's not complaining as you explore his mouth with hunger.

he's a bit flustered at your boldness, but isn't afraid of it. if anything harry only enjoys seeing you quickly submit to your desire for him. he wasn't sure how this would go, but clearly you've wanted this as badly as he has, if not even worse.

his hands finally begin to wander as he traces your collarbones lightly, his fingers running over the jewels of the necklace he bought you. "look so pretty in my gift," harry tells you between kissing you. you moan in response, your hips finding harry's as you only bring him closer to you.

before long you're dragging harry to his bed, his hands falling from your shoulders to your waist and down to your hips.

you sit on his bed, and your hand instantly lands on harry's belt, lingering fingers on the cold metal. harry just looks at you in shock. he didn't expect you to initiate anything like this so quickly.

"u-uh…" is all he can say with you looking up at him like that, your eyes already drooping so seductively as you messed with his buckle innocently.

"please?" you taunt him, your finger making its way down his semi erected cock under his slacks.

harry sighs. he wants to, he really wants to, but he wonders if it's too much all at once for you. he doesn't want you to think this is all he was looking for.

"[y/n]...i, i really like you…you don't have to–""i like you too, harry," you interrupt him, a sweet smile on your bitten lips. "i want this. so bad. please. you don't have to, but…" you practically beg, your fingers still toying with the latch of the belt as you bring your pouted lips closer to it.

harry sighs again, his hand stroking your hair as he admires you from above. so pretty, so innocent. it's like you wanted him to ruin all of that.

"i want to, but, you don't have to," harry reminds you, his cheeks starting to turn red. you giggle, and it only makes harry even more turned on. "i want to, but, you don't have to," you mock him, slowly unbuckling his belt and slacks.

harry chuckles nervously, watching you intently. he really does want to, and as long as you want to as well, who's he to deny you of what you both want?

soon your mouth is wrapped around the tip of his cock through his briefs, your warm tongue laid flat across the head as you continue watching harry's expression through your eyelashes.

his head is rolling back in pleasure already, his erection only getting more uncomfortable as it hardens in response to you.

you help him take his underwear off, and your lips reattach to the head of his cock, your tongue licking his precum. he's watching you with a lax jaw, his eyebrows furrowed as you continue running your tongue in circles around the sensitive tip.

he's already in pure bliss, his hand finding your hair again as he continues to admire you. even when you're in such a filthy position below him, you still look so soft and beautiful.

from this angle he has the perfect view of your breasts, and you notice his eyes flickering from your own down to your chest. pulling your lips off of harry, you pull down the neckline of your dress and let your tits pop out of the restricting fabric.

harry can hardly believe the sight he's witnessing in front of him.

before he can try to process just how incredibly sexy you look with your elegant dress pulled down below your tits, your mouth returned to his throbbing cock, along with your hands. you start to bring more of him into your mouth, using your hands to stroke him slowly. harry was practically thrusting into your hands and mouth at that point, desperate for relief.

you can see how worked up harry's getting, so you stop, much to his disappointment. you have harry lay on his bed as you make a show taking your dress the rest of the way off along with your shoes and stockings. once you're left only in your panties, you get back on top of harry to kiss him again.

"so fucking beautiful, darling," harry growls into your lips, his hands grabbing for your tits. you giggle, your hands going to harry's button up as you start to take it off of him.

once it comes off, you pull harry back into the kiss. his hand travel down to your hips as you start grinding against his throbbing cock. "baby, please," he pleads, the teasing becoming too much.

you giggle again, sliding your panties off carefully with harry's help. he also helps you line yourself up with him as you slowly lower yourself onto harry's cock.

your eyes roll in pleasure, a slight whimper of discomfort escaping your lips as harry's hand goes to your face, comforting you. "slow, my love," he reminds you, guiding your hips with his other hand.

once you're starting to moan in pleasure, your speed increases, your eyes locking with harry's as you already feel pressure begin to build inside you.

just looking at him makes you whimper pathetically. "god, harry, i've wanted this for so long," you tell him, leaning down for another kiss as you readjust your position on top of him.

harry's hands trace the curves of your body as you continue riding him, his thoughts incoherent as the pleasure rises by the second. your heavy breathing into his ear and beautiful body against his in the lowlight of his room is everything he's ever wanted.

"wanted you so bad, [y/n]," harry moans as you sit back up, your tits bouncing as you grind down into harry's cock.

he admires your body, your perfect curves, your insane hips, and he's even more turned on. you're already truly perfect in every way, but you have the most phenomenal body harry's ever witnessed to top it all off.

"you're perfect," he tells you, his hands gripping for your hips and ass. you giggle, your hand covering your flustered smile as you continue whimpering and whining, riding him into your own oblivion.

"h-harry…" your voice is so broken it only makes harry hungrier, his hips thrusting upwards slightly into you to relieve the tension. "fuck," he cries, his eyes going dark just watching you fall apart for him.

"harry…please…" you lean back down, your lips grazing his ear as you made your request. "cum inside me?"

harry's in disbelief, he pulls you back to see if you're joking, but you're only looking at him hopefully through hooded eyes, still riding his cock in perfect rhythm.

"are you crazy, [y/n]?" he asks with a laugh, his eyes searching yours for any sign of sarcasm, his stomach still tightening in overwhelming pleasure.

"yes. for you." you tell him seriously, your pace quickening on top of him, your tits bouncing against harry's chest. he winces from the rush of pleasure.

"f-fuck, [y/n]," he utters, barely able to hold himself bsck.

you moan, your hands grabbing harry's as you pin them down beside him. "mm, keep moaning my name like that, harry, you're gonna make me cum already…" you tell him, your face resting against his.

harry moans your name repeatedly, only getting more and more desperate as you pleasure yourself using his cock. he was almost completely lost in the moment before you squealed, your hands squeezing harry's as you tightened around his cock, your hips stuttering as you ride out your high, breathing heavily.

harry's overwhelmed with the feeling and sight of you orgasming on him, your face twisting as you moan his name in return, filthy sounds escaping your innocent lips. he's getting closer before he remembers what you asked him.

"i'm, [y/n], i'm gonna cum," harry says as you're still moving your hips to satisfy your climax. you moan again, letting your head fall into harry's neck as you continue holding down his hands. your pace quickens again, and harry is a mess under you.

"cum inside me harry, please, give it to me, i'm yours, i want to be all yours, please, please, harry, breed me and make my pussy yours," you have no shame in begging harry, his hips bucking as you only grind against him quicker.

"fuck, fuck, fuck," harry's cursing, slightly in panic. he wants to cum so badly, and the idea of you wanting him to breed you just from the first time you're together makes him even more turned on. part of him is scared, but it only ends up fueling the desire and taboo more as harry finally unloads inside of you, his voice breaking as he continues cursing between heavy breaths.

you're enjoying the moment thoroughly, your pussy quivering as it's filled with harry's warm cum. you go to give him another kiss, and he can barely reciprocate.

you giggle at harry a bit, wincing as you gently pull his cock outside of you. harry groans, but his eyes remained closed, still catching his breath. you offer to help him clean up, and it takes a moment, but he agrees, following you to his bathroom and admiring your naked body in the soft light of the room.

afterwards, harry insists you stay with him for the night as he hands you one of his favorite shirts to sleep in. you accept, laughing at his lovesick attitude already, and climb into bed beside him for the night.

harry can hardly believe he has you in his arms, finally, after being so captivated by you for practically his whole life. he's thankful to have you next to him, smiling as you trace his skin, telling him how much you've liked him this whole time, how you don't care if your parents don't approve, and how much you need him in your life. harry feels at peace with you, his little slytherin, in his bed, the moon the only source of light across your tired face. he truly finds you so beautiful, inside and out.

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aces-and-angels · 3 months

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URGENT PSA: DELETED GFMS UPDATE- PLEASE READ

the detective hat is screwed on tight gang- i just remembered that the wayback machine exists and have been able to gather some additional information regarding the deleted gfm campaigns for omar, raina, and iman:

all the info is under the cut

---

see the info on the site yourselves by using the following links:

iman: https://www.gofundme.com/f/jhcjrv-help-imans-family-find-safety omar: https://www.gofundme.com/f/help-me-to-evacuate-from-the-genocide ran/raina: https://www.gofundme.com/f/displaced-gaza-family-seeks-help-after-war-destroys-lives

my hunch was correct: these campaigns were not formatted in the way gfm requires in order to stay operational. i detailed the common reasons why gfm's may be terminated in a response post to @rubashabansblog but i will include it again here:

ruba- i have figured out the following info from my own research. there are several issues that can result in a gfm being suspended. the biggest issue comes from how the actual campaign is written. the key is being transparent. that means everyone that is benefiting from the campaign must be listed out by name (there may be a rule about specifying any minors/kids' ages as well) + locations. the issue also may be linked to whoever is organizing these campaigns on behalf of these families. another part that needs to be addressed fully is who will be handling the money. essentially if at any point in the transfer of funds someone is responsible for holding the money raised, they need to be listed on the account plainly and on the actual donation page as well. example: person a is organizing this fundraiser on behalf of person b. the last issue i can think of from everything i've read involves keeping an accurate account of the family's expenses. meaning that you need to write down everything that you are spending the money on. since there's no way to print actual receipts- gfm is asking people to write everything down on their notes app with their phones. these notes count as "receipts" and the total amount must always equal the amount the person/people are trying to raise. example: say i am raising $10K to evacuate, but am planning on putting aside $3K for other future living expenses like rent -> all of that needs to be documented fully. basically- as long as goal amounts match up to your expense report- the campaign should be fine. i understand that some families may need to keep raising their goals in order to cover the cost of living before they are able to evacuate. if that is the case- each time they raise/decrease the goal- i believe they need to update their gfm page to address the new total costs for their fundraiser. please forward this information to the affected families when you get the chance 🖤 perhaps this new info can help them solve the problem on their end *edit: another problem i forgot to mention- the currencies must match between the fundraiser and the bank account it is linked to. this means that if the fundraiser is in euros-- the bank tied to the account must also be in a country that uses euros as their primary currency. a US-based bank account would not work if the fundraiser is in euros.

all three campaigns have the same characteristics: not enough info is being disclosed in the fundraisers. another common theme: they are all recently made (may 2024). the decision to evacuate is a painful choice for families to make as none of want to be displaced yet again- but the situation in gaza has prompted many families to make this decision in an attempt to save themselves + their loved ones. the issue is that many of those who are now choosing to make campaigns are not aware of the ins and outs of how to properly start a gfm (+ i'm most certain there are other factors at play as to why this keeps happening to families in desperate need of aid).

this is bound to happen again and again unless this information is being spread widely. which is why i am also asking for this:

please share this w/ anyone who is fluent in arabic that can translate this in its entirety (DO NOT TRY TO USE GOOGLE TRANSLATE). i have a lot of new followers from 🇵🇸, some of them with newly made gfm pages that may be at risk of being frozen if they do not correct the issues i've addressed above. this information is vital to ensuring they are able to continue fundraising.

i have seen campaigns launched in june formatted similarly to the three that have been abruptly terminated. obtaining a stable internet connection in gaza requires people to put themselves at greater risk as they travel to locations with a working signal. people have been brutally murdered by just trying to activate the e-sims being sent over. so it makes sense that these newer campaigns made by these families would not have all the necessary info required- as these guidelines may be difficult to obtain on their end/may be worded in a way they cannot understand (you try reading the terms and policies of gfm yourself and tell me how fast your brain shuts off- and you're doing so in the comfort of your own homes. imagine what it's like to do so while facing constant bombardment).

a mutual of mine has already tried to contact gfm on behalf of omar- and they have informed me of gfm's response to their question:

Omar has already contacted them and is apparently in contact with the team according to the person i chatted with. they cannot disclose to me *why* the fundraiser was terminated they said they are working with Omar to solve the issue. if the issue cannot be solved, the money will be refunded to everyone... ^ this "contact" is likely using the same chatbox the rest of us need to use in order to even speak to a representative at gfm one-on-one. a very annoying system, but unless someone has a direct line to gfm- it is our only option.

we need to mobilize right now and put pressure on gfm to give these families the time they need to rework their campaign pages.

through the wayback machine i was able to figure out the organizers for each campaign.

omar is the organizer for his own -> says he is located in vienna but that is in direct conflict w/ the location he says he is in under the fundraiser info (displaced in rafah). i'm unsure if he has a contact in vienna that is actually the one responsible for holding/transferring the money, but this information needs to get to them so they can try to fix the issue ASAP

the other two have beneficiaries listed, but there could be additional problems with how that whole thing is currently set up.

i still do not know the emails for raina/iman's gfm's (and the wayback machine doesn't let you see the contact info on the archived pages 😓) but- we can try to mobilize right now for omar. he is absolutely devastated and has lost hope that he will be able to recuperate the money he has already raised. this is not the time for the rest of us to lose faith in his cause.

for anyone interested in helping out- i have laid out all this information so you can question gfm directly. if you come in knowing your stuff, they may be more receptive in their responses than the first initial attempts. please contact me directly if you wish to email on omar's behalf so i can forward you his email linked to the gfm account.

tagging for more reach: @appsa @palms-upturned @malcriada

#not choices #signal boost #🍉#sorry for any typos #this is hella long but pls read it all the way through

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tealvenetianmask · 3 months

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Blitz is dyslexic (petty post about why I'm right with proof from recent episodes)

Disclaimer: I don't have dyslexia, so I can't speak from personal experience, BUT neurodivergent people tend to find each other, and I've been very close with a few people with dyslexia, to the point where I've extensively edited their writing. I've also learned quite a bit about dyslexia while working in the education field. Okay- let's go.

I hear way too often (yes, I'm referencing a certain youtuber here) that Blitz can't have dyslexia because we sometimes see him reading and we sometimes see him writing without errors. So when he shows spelling and grammatical errors in his texts and notes to self, that must just be him being rude/trying to be cute/being lazy.

And if the errors were just slang and abbreviations, maybe the people making those arguments would have a point. But they're not. And I'm convinced that he has dyslexia. So what gives? Why the inconsistency (assuming it's an intentional choice on the part of the writers)?

Most dyslexic adults CAN write correctly with extra effort. It's just harder. In the learning disability world, we sometimes call it self- accommodating. With any disability, that means doing work that neurotypical people don't have to do in order to overcome the obstacle that the disability poses- and often, no one else sees that work or understands that it's necessary. For people with dyslexia, that often means that they have to check and double check their writing.

When YOU AND I (if we're both non-dyslexic people) write casually and don't put in effort, our spelling is going to be mostly correct. And if we use slang and abbreviations, it's a choice. When someone with dyslexia shoots off a quick text, it's going to look messy, and they'll probably only do it in a text to someone they're comfortable with. THAT IS THE DIFFERENCE.

Let's look at some recent examples from Helluva Boss.

Blitz is writing notes to himself here, so he doesn't have any need to make them presentable. Cute inside jokes with himself are possible (i.e. the horses and nicknames that we sometimes see), but the spelling mistakes here don't really make sense as jokes. They also wouldn't be easier to write than the correct words for someone who isn't dyslexic. Mok(backward S)ie isn't shorter than Moxxie, and remembr isn't much shorter than remember. The spelling is also phonetic, which fits with how many people with dyslexia spell in initial drafts. He just isn't watching for and correcting his mistakes, because why would he in this situation?!

Okay, different situation . . . the apologies. I would argue that Blitz IS putting in physical effort here, even if it's not emotional effort. He brings entire gift baskets full of his favorite foods for the people on his apology list after all. Here's what he writes to the DHORKS:

I think "sowy" IS meant to be cute here. It's not phonetic after all. He put a little effort into drawing them a cute little horse too. And then the cherubs . . .

I think this is pretty interesting. Blitz actually bothers here to fix his spelling mistake. He spells everything right on the inside too, even though he's telling these guys "fuck you." Notice that he runs out of room and has to write sideways. And notice the nice block letters on the front. In terms of why he's trying so much here, well, it's to prove to Stolas that he can put effort into apologizing to people, isn't it? And that means that the unintentional errors get fixed!

Now, Blitz tries to text an apology to Stolas (and obviously stalls for emotional reasons), and we see him typing it in real time,

Yeah . . . it's a combination of shorthand and just plain old misspellings. He's focused on choosing the right words, not on getting the spelling right, and it's impossible to say he doesn't care at this point. Someone who has an easy time writing correctly spelled text might use some shorthand, but just like we saw with Blitz's notes to self, they wouldn't likely intentionally misspell completely unnecessary things, especially when trying to come off as genuine.

Sigh. I rest my fucking case.

If you'd like to see my thoughts on that text conversation from Western Energy, go ahead and click on the link- it isn't really about dyslexia, and I do actually think that Blitz is pretty literate in spite of his disability and limited education, but it does explain why I think the conversation goes the way it does.

#My helluva meta #stolitz #blitz #blitzo buckzo #blitzo #helluva blitz #helluva neurodiversity #should be obvious but this doesn't negate other neurodivergences that he clearly has #People rarely have just one condition

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equallyreal · 25 days

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Transmission Received: The Call Is Coming From Inside The House And I'm Mad About It

Or, a response to National Novel Writing Month's stance on Artificial Intelligence.

But before we get into that, a quick story update: I actually haven't been working on much of anything lately due to some IRL issues going on (nothing too serious, don't worry, I am still alive and healthy). The Edge is going to be on a soft break until I get my energy levels back up to serious writing levels, but I will continue to make update posts to keep people in the loop about how well I'm recharging.

Unfortunately for the people behind National Novel Writing Month, while my energy levels might be low, my spite levels are always at an all-time high, and they are fully fueling me to take down their official position on AI. But first, a timeline.

I wake up to a message in a group discord I'm in with a screenshot of National Novel Writing Month making some...interesting comments about their position on AI.

While going to tumblr to see if anyone else is talking about this, I find this post my @the-pen-pot featuring the screenshot I saw. In the responses, I see @darkjediqueen saying that the article had been updated @besodemieterd giving some information that I'm going to keep secret for now because it creates a truly amazing punchline.

I get off tumblr and read the updated article.

I feel a deep rage in my soul that cannot be tamed by group chat participation, and I click the "write a post" button.

So, with that out of the way, let's break this down, shall we?

The original post, as seen in the screenshot of the above post, contained the following two paragraphs:

NaNoWriMo does not explicitly support any specific approach to writing, nor does it explicitly condemn any approach, including the use of AI. NaNoWriMo's mission is to "provide the structure, community, and encouragement to help people use their voices, achieve creative goals, and build new worlds—on and off the page." We fulfill our mission by supporting the humans doing the writing. Please see this related post that speaks to our overall position on nondiscrimination with respect to approaches to creativity, writer's resources, and personal choice. We also want to be clear in our belief that the categorical condemnation of Artificial Intelligence has classist and abelist undertones, and that questions around the use of AI tie to questions around privilege.

This was all I saw when I first heard about this, and this on its own was enough to tap into my spite as an energy source. The second paragraph, in particular, was infuriating. "People who argue against AI are classist or abelist" is a terrible take I've seen floating around AI Bro Twitter, and to see it regurgitated by an organization that is supposed to be all about writing was, to put it simply, a lot.

But, as noted in the timeline, I did see that they had updated the article (about two hours ago as of me working on writing this), so I went to the updated post to see what was said. Somehow, it had gotten worse. I'll be addressing the updated post on a point by point basis, so if you want to read the whole thing without my commentary, here you go.

The first paragraph is the same was it was in the screenshot. The first major different is an added paragraph that begins like this:

Note: we have edited this post by adding this paragraph to reflect our acknowledgment that there are bad actors in the AI space who are doing harm to writers and who are acting unethically. We want to make clear that, though we find the categorical condemnation for AI to be problematic for the reasons stated below, we are troubled by situational abuse of AI, and that certain situational abuses clearly conflict with our values.

First off, I find it a big troubling that while they discuss bad actors in the AI space, they won't acknowledge that these same bad actors are often the ones pushing the whole "being anti-AI makes you morally bad, actually" accusations with the most fervor.

Second, why are you not more strongly discussing and pushing back against the "situational" abuse of AI? Why is the focus on how using AI can be good, actually, rather than acknowledging the fears and angers of your userbase around how generative AI is ruining an art form that you claim to want to help foster? I have a theory about this, but we're saving that for a bit further down.

The paragraph concludes:

We also want to make clear that AI is a large umbrella technology and that the size and complexity of that category (which includes both non-generative and generative AI, among other uses) contributes to our belief that it is simply too big to categorically endorse or not endorse.

The funny thing is, in a vacuum, I don't have a problem with this statement. They're not wrong: AI is an umbrella term with a lot of complexity to it, and I can see how people would be hesitant to condemn the technology as a whole when there are uses of it that aren't awful. If their whole statement had been this, I would have less of a problem with it (still some of a problem, sure, but I wouldn't be writing a lengthy blog post about it) But they had to delve into how Being Against AI is Morally Bad, Actually, which is where the post continues from here.

The last big change between the screenshot and the updated article is in this paragraph:

We believe that to categorically condemn AI would be to ignore classist and ableist issues surrounding the use of the technology, and that questions around the use of AI tie to questions around privilege.

This is much less strongly-worded than the original paragraph. If I had to guess, they got a lot of criticism regarding the original sentiment (namely, assuming that disabled and poor people can only make art if a machine does it for them is actually way more abelist and classist than saying generative AI is bad), and dialed it back through this rewording. They could've just worded it this way from the beginning instead of saying the dumbest possible thing they could've, but whatever.

I don't know if the rest of this was in the article from the beginning or if it was added later, as the original screenshot I saw only showed the first two paragraphs. Regardless of whether this is them trying to cover their asses by explaining logic they should've explained from the start or if this was always here, I still have major issues with these points, so we're going to address them next.

(As a quick full disclosure note: I had to transcribe the rest of the article instead of copy-pasting it because I lost the ability to do so at about this point in the blog writing process. I don't know what happened or why, I just wanted to let you know that almost all typos are my fault, but beyond that I recorded the text as-written at the time that I had the article up in another tab. I promise.)

Classism. Not all writers have the financial ability to hire humans to help at certain phases of their writing. For some writers, the decision to use AI is a practical, not an ideological, one. The financial ability to engage a human for feedback and review assumes a level of privilege that not all community members possess.

You may note that they are discussing the use of AI at what seems to be the editing process. As someone in my group chat pointed out, National Novel Writing Month has nothing to do with editing, and everything to do with writing. The only way you can currently use AI for the act of writing is if you use generative AI to do it for you, which is, I think we can all agree, not actually writing and actually bad. This emphasis on editing ties into the punchline, which we'll be getting to shortly.

On a final note before we proceed though, I would like to carry over an argument about this matter that is used in the small business/handcrafts sector: If you can't afford it now, save up for it. Don't devalue the work of other people (in this case, editors and things like sensitivity readers or beta readers) by saying it's too expensive and I can get it cheaper on Shein by using AI. Save up and support your fellow workers if it really means something to you, or just do the editing yourself and hope for the best. (Disclosure: I don't have an editor. Or a beta reader. I can't say my writing is the most polished all the time, but I get by just fine.)

Abelism. Not all brains have the same abilities and not all writers function at the same level of education or proficiency in the language in which they are writing. Some brains and ability levels require outside help or accommodations to achieve certain goals. The notion that all writers "should" be able to perform certain functions independently or [sic] is a position that we disagree with wholeheartedly. There is a wealth of reasons why individuals can't "see" the issues in their writing without help.

First of all...just say "disabled." I promise your hands will not fall off if you type that word.

Second, level of education should really fall under the class bullet point, but that's just me nitpicking.

Third, I would argue that the real goal here shouldn't be to say "no using AI is finem actually", but rather to a) dismantle the idea of what writing "should" look like in order to make it more inclusive, and b) fight back against people who bully imperfect writers. Those are actually more noble goals than propping up a corrupt industry by using the disabled as your scapegoat.

Fourth, the dangling "or" is not a typo I take credit for. It was in the article as of me transcribing it. If I had to guess, there was more to this sentence at some point, and they just didn't fully delete the thought.

Fifth, funny how this is once again more about the editing process of writing and not the writing part. Even more funny when we view the final point.

General Access Issues. All of these considerations exist within a larger system in which writers don't always have equal access to resources along the chain. For example, underrepresented minorities are less likely to be offered traditional publishing contracts, which places some, by default, into the indie author space, which inequitably creates upfront cost burdens that authors who do not suffer from systemic discrimination may have to incur.

This one really pissed me off, because the indie author sphere is actively under attack by the use of AI. AI-created scam books on Amazon's kindle publishing platform are increasing and actively stealing attention and money away from human authors (see this article). Sci-Fi magazine Clarkesworld had to shut down new author submissions due to the influx of AI generated stories, and while the head of Bards and Sages cited physical and mental health problems as a reason for shutting down the company entirely, having to weed through AI generated submissions and the way such bad actors are impacting the industry were listed as the final straw. There are probably even more examples of this, but I only did a cursory google search to avoid being here all day.

Simply put: AI is not helping authors who have to go to the indie space in order to escape systemic problems. It is actively killing the space instead. I don't want to sound doom and gloom, but if this keeps up, these authors aren't going to have anywhere to run to. A refusal to condemn the ways in which AI is impacting these spaces does, in my opinion, make you complicit.

On a final note, you might notice that this point is seemingly once again focusing on editing, not writing. Which means it's time to unveil the punchline pointed out by besodemieterd, the response that made me lose my mind:

They made this bullshit up to justify them getting into cahoots with an AI company called ProWritingAid, it's all over their instagram.

I immediately ran to factcheck this...and it's true. ProWritingAid is, in fact, a more in-depth Grammarly that uses AI for its functionality. They are a sponsor for National Novel Writing Month, and the first three posts on their instagram are dedicated to this partnership.

I completely back up besodemieterd's belief that they wrote this article to justify their taking this sponsorship. If I had to guess, they started taking a lot of flack for taking ProWritingAid as a sponsor and wrote this article in order to defend their decision to do so without actually saying so directly.

I don't want to shame NaNoWriMo for taking sponsors on the whole, as they do need money to stay afloat. However, taking an AI company as a sponsor and then defending their stance by essentially calling people with concerns about this morally wrong and bad is, as the kids say, clown behavior. This is clown shit. It's laughable, it's cringe, it's incredibly disheartening. It's so, so bad.

The next paragraph is just about how they "see value in sharing resources about AI and any emerging technology, issue, or discussion that is relevant to the writing community as a whole." Since my stance on this can be summed up as "AI bad and platforming it is bad", I'm going to skip over this paragraph. I will, however, address their last paragraph:

For all of those reasons, we absolutely do not condemn AI, and we recognize and respect writers who believe that AI tools are right for them. We recognize that some members of our community stand staunchly against AI for themselves, and that's perfectly fine. As individuals, we have the freedom to make our own decisions.

So, basically, you're incapable of saying "no" to money and decided to lean into the talking points of bad faith actors and refuse to address the destruction that generative AI is wrecking on the writing world in order to justify why you took a certain sponsor. In taking this middle of the road, individual choice-ass response, you also threw human editors and beta readers under the bus by justifying the use of technology that actively removes them from the space. You are making the writing world a worse place, which is absolutely crazy when writing is supposed to be the thing you're all about.

Truly amazing. And they're doing this on Labor Day, too.

In conclusion, I will be dead in the dirt before you spot me participating in National Novel Writing Month again. Which is probably for the best. My life can only handle so many self-imposed deadlines. I guess I should be grateful to them for removing one from my plate.

#story check in #rant post

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thewriteadviceforwriters · 9 days

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Why Writing Is So Lonely | Rin T.

Hello writers, and anyone else who uses Tumblr on a daily basis like me. (Although I’ve been inactive off and on.) It’s me, Rin, and I wanted to talk about something that I think a lot of us struggle with. Or at least anyone, and everyone who considers themselves writers.

The loneliness that can come with the writing life and being a writer. We spend so much of our time alone. It doesn’t matter if you're using your laptop or scribbling in notebooks. Or pacing around in your living room and muttering dialogue to yourself (which I'm completely guilty of.)

Writing is really a solitary passion, and it hasn't just recently been like that. I'm sure Jane Austen and Edgar Allen Poe dealt with similar feelings. And sometimes that isolation can take a real toll that many of us choose to ignore, both on our creativity, our passion, which I assume is writing in this case, and our mental health.

I’ve been writing for about 4 years now, mostly working on my own little passion projects that I plan on publishing and side hustles, not only for my writing project but also my blog (TheWrite AdviceForWriters). I’m currently knee-deep in 4 different novel drafts that I’m absolutely in love with. However, let me tell you. It can get Very lonely a lot of times. There are days when I feel like I’m the only person in the world who cares about these made-up characters and their fictional problems. The characters I create in my mind are so vivid that they seem like the only individuals who actually care about my passion. (They technically are, considering they are basically my passion.)

It’s so easy to start wondering whether anyone will ever want to read the stories I'm pouring my heart into. The self-doubt I get has been a big part of my writing journey, and sometimes it breaks my heart knowing that I may not please everyone who reads my stories. That I possibly could get the worst reviews out there on my book. If it's not perfect for society. For example, I have been reading and receiving news on Alex Aster and the amount of bad reviews she received for her LightLark novel, and she has had a few times where she’s stated she poured her heart into it. And it's not just Aster who deals with these as a published author; there are many others, and it sometimes scares me.

But you know what? I've come to realize that this loneliness is just part of the writer’s journey. And that it truly is going to be the process of every writer’s journey and career. It’s going to be one of the prominent challenges we have to face if we want to do this crazy, wonderful, painful thing we call writing. And I think it's important we talk about it, especially since I'm a blogger who owns a blog specifically for writers. The biggest reason I chose to create this blog was for this reason and the many other challenges of being a writer.

I definitely will consider this blog post to be a discussion, and if anyone wants to reblog or reply to this blog post and start a conversation, please do so, just so we can support each other and figure out healthy ways to cope.

So, why is writing such a lonely pursit? Well, there are quite a few reasons, especially reasons for each individual writer; however, here are a few key reasons:

The Act Itself is Solitary.

At the end of the day, writing is something we have to do on our own. Sure, we can brainstorm with other writers and friends who write or get feedback from beta readers. Or even develop and edit your manuscript with a professional book editor. But the actual act of putting words on the page is a solo endeavor. We’re the ones doing the typing, the (physical) writing, and the constant racking of our brains to find the perfect word or phrase to put down on paper or the blank page on a screen.

Even when we’re writing collaboratively, there’s still a certain level of isolation involved. I mean, after all, our individual writing process and creative visions have to align for the collaboration to work.

And let’s be real—aligning those things isn't always easy.

I’ve reached out to book editors, more so of developmental editors, which is an editor who guides the writer/author on the actual plot and outline of the novel itself. And they have mentioned the difficulties of needing to align with the creativity of the topic or novel. It isn't easy at all.

I know that for me, my most productive writing sessions happen when I'm alone. And I know for a fact I'm not alone on that.

Having no distractions when it's just me, my thoughts, and the blinking cursor on the screen with a Spotify playlist playing in the background. And while that can be deeply fulfilling and very productive, I will admit it can be incredibly lonely.

It's an Emotionally Draining Process.

Writing isn't just about stringing words together. It's about pouring our hearts and souls onto the page. Were digging into our deepest emotions, our biggest fear, our wildest dreams, our thoughts, our philosophy, I can go on. And that kind of vulnerability can be utterly exhausting.

When I'm in the process of drafting a new novel or the many current projects I'm working on. I often find myself emotionally drained at the end of the day. I've been living and breathing these characters, feeling their joys and pains as my own. describing the actions, words, and emotions these characters do and feel. And then after that, I have to close my laptop, put my pen and notebook away, and try to reenter the “real world"—a world that doesn’t always understand the weight I've been carrying.

It can be so isolating, feeling like the only person who understands the emotional journey of your writing. Knowing what it feels like to create characters and their stories and emotions and personalities just as if they were real humans. Our non-writer friends and family members try their best to be supportive, but unless they experience it firsthand, they cannot fully grasp the depth of what we go through. I can tell when I explain my projects to others who aren't writers, it can sometimes feel like they don't care about what I'm saying to them. Or it can also feel like, my stories are just a synopsis for an underrated movie no one’s ever watched.

It's a Profession of Rejection

I think we all know, writing is a tough gig. It's a tough career and job. Even the most successful authors have had to face their fair share of rejection. The rejections can be received from agents, publishers, readers, or critics. (like I mentioned earlier), and that constant stream of “no’s” can really chip away at our confidence and sense of self-worth. And especially if you're an aspiring author and have not yet published your work. Knowing that rejection is a big part of the career of writing is frightening. Really.

I remember when one of my best friends, who is a writer, who is currently in the process of publishing her book, would send query after query only to receive endless rejections. She told me it felt like the entire world was telling her, “Your writing isn't good enough,” and that can be a pretty lonely and demoralizing place to be. It has made me anxious about getting to the querying phase, as I still haven't begun to query yet.

Even when we start to find some success, the fear of rejection never really goes away. Will readers love our next book as much as the last one? Will readers even like my debut novel? Will the critics tear it apart? I know when I first started writing my first novel project. I rewrote the first chapter. 13 times!! And that’s because of all the questions and doubts I had in mind. It’s enough to make any writer want to crawl into a hole and never come out.

And the thing is, as writers, we often don't have the same support system that people in other professions might have. We don't have coworkers to commiserate with or a boss to reassure us; it’s just us. Our doubts and the eerie silence of an empty inbox. For example, Ana Neu, one of my all-time favorite Author-Tuber's, has dealt with similar struggles. She’s mentioned several times how lonely she feels and how her family doesn't fully understand her love and passion for writing. And I completely agree with her. If you want to listen to more of her, please listen to her podcast and watch her videos on YouTube here.

So, now that I went over the key reasons as to why writing is so lonely, I didn't want to end this post on negativity, that’s why I wanted to list the main strategies that have helped me:

Build a Writer’s Community

One of the best ways to combat the isolation of writing is to surround yourself with other writers. That’s why I found social media to be a gift, not just for the other obvious reasons, but because we get to find writers around the world who enjoy the same things we like. Having that sense of community can be a game changer.

When I first started my Tumblr blog, TheWriteAdviceForWriters, I was really hoping to create that kind of supportive space for writers. I wanted to create a space where anyone who enjoys writing—not just fiction writers, but anyone who finds writing to be a passion of theirs—can share their dreams and struggles with. It's been amazing to connect with so many incredible people who just “get” the unique challenges we face. Being able to share our achievements and share our compassions. It's been vital for my own mental health as a writer, and I hope that it can also be vital for all of you.

And of course, the community is not about venting or seeking validation from others; its about providing feedback, encouragement, and just being able to make friends. Having that makes the lonely parts of the writing process and journey feel a little less lonely.

Prioritize Self-care

It's so easy to get caught up in the work and neglect our well-being. There have been multiple times where I wouldn't take a break from my writing sessions and simply not eat and drink. I wouldn't give myself time to process everything I wrote, and I immediately after would criticize it.

However, I find that self-care is the most important part of combating the isolation that comes with being a writer. For me, that looks like making sure I get enough sleep. You can't process, learn, and remember anything when you don't have enough sleep. During my personal self-care, when I do 45-to 1-hour writing sessions, I usually take a short nap after. Eating nourishing meals and snacks is important, as is making time for the hobbies and activities that bring me joy. I usually like reading books, spending quality time with my family members, and very feisty (and sometimes scary) cat.

3. Cultivate Gratitude

When loneliness starts to creep in, it can be really helpful to shift our mindset and focus on what we are grateful for; this can be really productive and rewarding. Being a writer is a gift; we get to spend our days doing what we love, bringing our creative visions to life and sharing them with people who love literature. Readers are such a big part of being a writer, and they're huge motivations to me.

So, if you can, just take a moment to appreciate the joys of writing. For example, if you have any writing quirks, I personally have to wear bracelets on both of my wrists in order to produce some type of creativity when I write. I'm not sure why it's just something I noticed. I also really love writing my manuscripts physically. I tend to do this when I'm suffering from writer's block, and for some reason my writing style is a lot better.

And don't forget the many other joys of writing, like drafting, and the excitement of sharing your work with others. Having a new idea come to mind that fits perfectly in your plot. Or even a reader or beta reader sharing a comment on your work and giving you encouragement.

Also, please celebrate your wins; it makes writing all too fun, and it's a great way to integrate writing into the real world.

End Note

I wanted to write this post because I know a lot of us deal with feeling lonely; I’ve been feeling that way for quite some time, and I wanted to share it with Tumblr. I feel like each and every one of you all feel the same way. And that’s why I created my Tumblr community; that's the reason I created this blog, and that's the reason I strive to build this into an entire brand.

I want to bring more awareness to writers, we are the people behind the stories, movies, and media that we consume today, and we barely get any credit for our work. I want to make a brand where others who never thought writing to be their passion could actually for once consider “Is writing for me?”

I feel like it's such an underrated yet overrated passion. Yet it's not acknowledged as much.

I hope this post can make you understand that writing is 90% lonely and you are not crazy for thinking so. But, we can use the resources we have today, like social media, to change that and make writing better for the present and the future.

Thank you all for reading. And please, if you are considering joining a community if you haven't already, please join The Write Right Society. We recently met 100 members, and the community is continuing to grow.

#writing #thewriteadviceforwriters #writeblr #creative writing #how to write #writers block #writing tips #on writing #writers on tumblr #aspiring author #authors of tumblr

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violetszone · 1 year

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Rainbow Baby

Charles x fem!reader

From this request

Summary: You had an accident and miscarriage when you were 3 months pregnant, but only Charles and a few relatives both of you knew that you were pregnant at the time of the accident. When you became pregnant again two years after the accident, this time you decided to not hide your baby and what happened in that accident.

WARNINGS: miscarriage, mental and physical problems, too much angst

A/n: not edited writing...

It was the third month of your pregnancy, although your belly was not very clear, certain people around you knew about her pregnancy. You were glad when Charles suggested not to explain the baby to the outside world until you felt comfortable, you didn't want all eyes on you.

Charles was always there for the baby and was very attentive to you even in the first months.That's why when you said you were going out to dinner with your friends tonight, he insisted you not go.You kept talking to tell him it's okay and you're feeling fine today.

You were so excited when you finally persuaded Charles that you kissed him and left the house and drove off in your car. Everything happened so fast, even before you could tell there was a car coming out of the tunnel, you heard a crash and your car started to drift towards the wall at the tunnel entrance.The last thing you remembered was siren sounds.

Charles was with you when you opened your eyes. He was in a mess, when he saw you, he smiled for a moment and got up from where he was sitting on the hospital bed next to you and sat on the hospital bed, held your hand, you were looking around trying to understand where you were.

You frowned and the first thing you did when you realized that you were in the hospital was to put your free hand on your stomach and look at your stomach, your eyes filled with tears. Charles shook your hand and hugged you tightly as you started to cry "I'm sorry honey, I'm so sorry"

Losing your baby didn't affect you and Charles very well, but thanks to the love between the two of you, you were able to recover.It had been very difficult, but you believed that without Charles it would have been a wound that would never have healed.

Two years after the accident, the thing happened that made you both fully recover. You were pregnant again.This time you were both more sensitive, you knew this Rainbow baby would change your life.

This time you didn't want to hide the baby from the fans because you didn't want to make an effort to hide yourself and you didn't think you could mentally handle it.Charles, of course, supported you in this decision, he was aware that the last two years had a heavy impact on you rather than on him, so he stood by you in every decision as always.

For this reason, you prepared a joint post on Instagram and announced your rainbow baby to the whole world.Of course, within a few hours, the whole world was shaken by the news because most fans knew very well what a rainbow baby was.

Everyone seemed to go crazy, both of you started getting notifications and calls on your phones like crazy. You were expecting such a reaction but it hurt your heart that people were so knowledgeable about it because it probably meant that they experienced it too.

Charles was sitting next to you and when you looked into his eyes you saw again that man who could burn the whole world for you he took your hand and smiled at you "Charles, I think we should tell them, we can't keep it to ourselves any longer, they need to know what happened in that accident. After all, they know our baby now, I'm ready now I feel strong enough to talk about it"

Charles asked several times if you were sure about it, and each time you told him that you were fine and that it was important that you explain it.Starting from being actually pregnant at the time of the accident, you explained clearly how you collected yourself in these two years after the miscarriage and what your psychology was like.What Charles and you went through, what mental difficulties you struggled with, everything was in this article and you didn't hesitate to publish it, these were facts, you went through hard times.

Written from the point of view of the two of you, you explained what Rainbow baby means as a small footnote for those who don't know, while publishing this statement about what you've been through for two years, this baby was connecting you to life again.

You wanted not to answer the phone for a while after the statement was published because you kept thinking that there were people going through it and how hard it was for them too. Charles hugged you all day, you read books together and tried to stay away from everything electronic

When you looked at your phone in the evening, the news was really everywhere, everyone was sending support messages.Most women who have experienced this have sent you messages and the reason for your current sentimentality is that you were crying when you read their stories.

you felt more relaxed and now you were ready to live a new life when your rainbow baby was born.You could really feel the support that everyone sent, especially you were very grateful to Charles, who did not leave your side even though he was not well during these two years.This baby would be a new hope for all of you.

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lynaferns · 5 months

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The Forest On The Other Side

Chapter 1: I want to go home.

Ver. [ENGLISH / SPANISH]

EDIT: This fic is now on AO3

A girl gets lost in the forest and finds a misterious gate in the middle of nowhere. At the other side she meets a... very peculiar individual who seems to only want to befriend her and play. Everything seems fine. Until night falls and someone else joins to play...

Again, I appreciate feedback about the english adaptation. English is not my first lenguage and I still mess up sometimes.

This is in some way a more "joyful" story than BIOMáquina, still with its dark themes. I wrote this a year ago. By this I mean I forced myself to get it written down and ended up hating it and burning myself out. A couple of weeks ago I decided to reread it and I though it was pretty ok actually, so I edited it a bit to make it flow better. It used to be written more as a script for the comic I wanted to draw buuuut that didn't happen (cough stressed myself out cough forced myself cough don't force yourself to make content out of a hobby, a hobby is supposed to be for your own fun). I'm not completely satisfied with the final draft but I think is good enough for my first ever fic written.

I originally planned to make it a Y/N thing but that didn't last long. But I keeped the original idea of the first person POV. The Y/N stories I've read has always some narrator telling you what you do insert you in the story. I thought of making the MC the narrator, this way the reader can insert themselves like it's their story or they can read it as if someone else is telling them a story. This is also a bit limiting, since the narration is also the MCs thought process and sometimes I may skip details MC couldn't have seen.

AU, Magical forest, DCA centered, Sun fnaf, Moon fnaf, Elves Sun & Moon, OC, Selfinsert, Character & OC, platonic, friendship, slowburn (kind of), Moon is agresive at first, Moon is also a bit of a gremlin, Protective Sun (I think), OC is a potty mouth, Female Main Character, First person, Angst.

The first post where I showed this AU and my first sketches ideas.

Tumblr archive with all of the art, ideas and anwsered asks.

Youtube Playlist which I'm pretty proud of how it turned out :] It's in a specific order but you can put it on mix.

Note: even though I try to keep things light some things may be triggering for some readers.

CW: Anxiety, Suicide ideation, Implied death, Choking, Non sexual abuse.

Wordcount: 9,700 (It's not rounded, that's literally the number Word tells me it's at lol)

Welp.

Here we are again, in the old village house (yey...). Well, 'I am', my family won't arrive to settle in for another week. They brought me here beforehand a few days ago for organizational reasons. They took a quick look inside before they left to see the state of the house, if it needed any repairs and such, and they headed back to the city. While they finish preparing everything, I take care of the house and text them messages about anything that may be needed for when they return.

We haven't been here in years, the house needs some repairs, and I'm sorry for the spiders, but it could use a deep cleaning. We can't do a deep cleaning but I have been cleaning what I can these last few days, at least so that it looks decent... at first glance.

Well, it's not like anyone is coming to visit.

It's a quiet town, until the kids from the town next door come to make a racket with their bikes. They play in our field, scare away the cats and throw cans around. They are assholes.

Anyways, the people in the village are nice. The adults I mean, the kids I used to play with, I don't get along with them anymore. Some of them aren't kids anymore, we have grown up and are going down different paths. But those who are still kids... they're still interested in the only older kid in the town who listened to them and let them do whatever they wanted, to a certain extent.

I don't want them to come looking for me to go out and play. I've been avoiding them by saying that I'm busy cleaning the house and getting it ready for when my family arrives, but I feel like interacting with them less and less. That's why I'm going out to the woods behind the house to get lost for a while, as always. The kids don't go near the forest so they won't bother me there.

There is an area for tourism and hiking but not many people come, some police cars border the forest from time to time but they never go inside. The reports of missing people in this forest have been coming in for decades, only some lost children have returned but there is no trace of any of the adults who disappeared along with the rest of the children. The areas marked with signs are safe but you can't go out of bounds unless you want to disappear with those people.

And I, who right now am alone and with no one to notice my absence if I go missing, am going to head straight to the forest. Don't you think, I don't want to disappear, I just don't like people and I usually go into the forest but I don't go too far away. As long as I see my house in the distance, I know how to return.

I grab my bag with my sketchbook and pencil case, in case I feel like drawing (probably won't) and step out to the back porch. The outer sliding metal door that protects the inner one is rusty and difficult to open. It would be better to oil it but I don't know when it will be done, considering that the broken railing has had a wooden board tied to it for years. I already sent my mother a message talking about it.

I enter the forest and start walking around. It's hot, of course, it's early summer, but it's quite noticeable after being in the cool inside the brick and stone house. That's the good thing about coming here in summer, the houses are made to stay cold inside and it's great, sometimes I even need to wear a jacket. But outside I'm dying, the trees don't provide enough shade. In fact, some trees are missing. I used to have my routes memorized but time has passed and some paths have changed, some have disappeared and others have formed. I admit that it makes me a little sad... I began to walk absorbed in my thoughts not paying attention to where I was going.

I'm walking away, I should go back. I'm not going to draw anything here anyway, and it's hotter outside than inside so I'm gonna to turn around-

I hear screams and laughter in the distance, the sound of the voices produces me an immediate disgust. It's those kids from the next door village. They must have come to 'investigate' about the disappearances or maybe they don't care and they just came to be idiots-

They're getting closer.

I don't want them to see me. God. Don't let them see me. Anyone but them. They're getting closser. Don't let them see me. I can't go back home now. They're cutting me off. Of all the people who could have found me. It had to be them. No, please. Don't let them see me. I have to go further into the forest, I can't let them see me. They're getting closer. Don't let them see me. I want to leave. I want to leave. I'm getting too far. I want to leave. I don't see my house. I want to leave. I don't see the village. I want to leave. I don't see the kids.

...

Where am I?

Fuck.

Where am I?

I want to leave.

…

��

Now I'm wandering through the forest. I don't want to go back. I want to get out of here. Even though I'm walking in a straight line I feel like I'm going around in circles, and I'm not going to get out of here now. Great. I'm lost. Now what? People who get lost in this forest don't return, no one has returned except for some children.

...

I'm going to disappear.

...

For now I keep walking until something happens. Maybe there's an animal that kills people who get lost, or maybe it's a group of kidnappers, or maybe I should stop giving myself anxiety and focus on getting out of here. Maybe if I find a field or road, or even the tourist area, I'll be able to get out of here and return bordering the fores-

...

There is... colorful graffitis on the trees. Someone has painted eyes, hands, stars and more on the bark of the trees...

What's this?

I don't know where I've come to, I didn't know this was here, in the middle of nowhere in the forest. The trees have red leaves like in autumn even though summer has just started... The first thing I thought was 'climate change's fault' but there is something that stands out in the middle of this entire flat area and it is disturbing me.

In the center there is a kind of circular gate made of stones supported by roots.

Okay, maybe it doesn't sound aaaaas disturbing as, I don't know, a totem with a human figure being impaled or something, but it's giving me a bad vibe. What is this place? Who built a stone arch in the middle of everything and why?

A bird appears flying from behind me and goes through the gate, but nothing comes out on the other side... wait what? how? The bird has crossed the gate, and disappeared behind the stone arch? ...I had to imagine it, it's not possible that that happened. I approach the arch but not before picking up a rock from the ground and throwing it to the other side of the gate.

It's still there.

…

For some reason the thought of going through the gate makes me uncomfortable, so I go around it.

...

...And the rock? It's not there.

I go back and look from inside the portal.

The rock is there.

...

I look from outside. The rock is not there. I repeat this multiple times. Rock. No rock. Rock. No rock. Rock. No rock... What?

Alright, this is weird, this is VERY weird.

Even though it is clear that this isn't normal, I have to go back, pick up a fallen branch from the ground and pass it through the portal. This time I don't throw it, I've grabbed a branch long enough to see it peek out from the other side of the arch.

...

Welp.

I should be seeing not only the branch, but also my hand sticking out of the side, but I'M NOT SEEING IT. OKAY. OK. ALRIGHT. IT'S CONFIRMED. THIS IS WEIRD.

I'm asleep, right? Or unconscious. I must have passed out from exhaustion from endlessly wandering through the woods and I'm delirious or something. No, wait, it can't be, in my dreams I'm not this aware of what's around me. Where am I?

A breeze begins to pass through the gate. It's getting stronger but not enough to push me. The leaves rise from the ground and float towards the portal, none slipping outside, all entering through the stone arch. Suddenly the breeze that had become wind stops. The leaves fall to the ground.

...

I look back for a moment, as if there was something behind me that could help me make a decision. Grabbing with both hands my bag strap I look back at the portal again. Okay. Alright. This is possibly the death of me. I'm going to cross. I'm going to go to the other side. I'm just one step away from crossing. I wrinkle my face and narrow my eyes before taking the last step.

...

Nothing has happened. Everything seems the same. However, I know it's not the same... Or at least it doesn't feel the same!

Well, I've already crossed. I'm gonna... keep walking, I guess, even though this is scaring me and I don't know if I'll know how to go back. For now I'm moving forward. The red leaves have disappeared several meters ago. It's starting to look like a normal forest, except for the multicolored drawings and handprints that I keep seeing on the trees. In fact, it seems like the trees are taller with every step I take. So high that I can barely see the top. I almost tripped while looking up. Whether this is the same forest I come from, I no longer know.

This was a bad idea. I just hope to find something that'll help me know where I am, a sign or the road if possible.

*cling*

...?

I hit something with my foot. There is a ball attached to a small chain on the ground. Oh, no, wait. *cling diring ding* It's a rusty bell, I think. It doesn't have the typical cross-shaped hole or slot, rather it has several holes in a pattern. It looks like it can be opened.

There's nothing inside.

There's nothing? But I could have sworn it had rang. I close it again and shake it.

*...*

Nothing.

I'm going to put it in the bag, it's totally a good idea. I'll think about it later, for now I'm moving on.

—

I've been walking for a while now and throughout this time I had a constant chill on the back of my neck, as if someone had their eyes on me.

*din dirring* I hear a soft tinkling in the distance.

Okay, I'm not alone, awesome, what do I do now? Do I say hi and risk the potential danger finding me? Do I ignore the sound of bells and keep moving? It's very possible that whatever made that sound is watching me right now...

“Hello?” Still nervous, I try to say hello looking around “...” “Is someone there? H-hello?”

“-HEEEEELLO!”

“AAAAAH-!” I cover my mouth with my hands as I turn to look at what the hell has greeted me back. I take a few steps back while I look at the figure of earthy and sunny tones who responded, he seems as surprised as I am, I think (with the scream I made, normal), at least it looks like he's surprised. He wears a two toned wooden mask... it looks like a sun, with a crescent moon on its right... It gives the impression of two faces merged into one... Damn, he is tall, he's almost doubles my size. He appears to have two skin tones dividing him in half, his right side being the lighter and the left darker, especially the arm, which also has a light-colored tattoo of lines representing a sun symbol that covers from the shoulder to the pectoral and to the middle of the bicep. The right arm is covered by a long fingerless glove that reaches to the shoulder and is tied around the chest. He's wearing baggy pants with leaves coming out of the waist and legs, some... cloth boots? with a long toe bending sharply and curving in a geometric swirl with a bell at the tips, a bag hangs from the waistband of his pants and falls below his hips. His chest and neck are tied by ropes decorated with hanging stones, metals and crystals, he wears a pendant that ends in a carved symbol of a crescent moon with rays. Some of the 'sunrays' on his mask have ropes tied between them holding them in place and some metal dangling. Some red ribbons along with bells hang from his wrists.

“um... Helloooooo.” He greets again, this time he lowers his tone of voice. I manage to react, I turn around and walk away. “¡ah- eh- Wait!” Nope, I'm not going to wait and see what he does with me, I'm leaving. “He-! Hey!” Nope. I quicken my pace and try to get lost among the trees, changing direction every time he appears in my vision angle. “Human? Human-! FRIEND. Can I call you friend?!” Nope, nope, nopnop, nop, nop, nope. “Friend! Hey!” God, no, god, god, no, why are you following me? “Look, I know what you're trying to look for...! And believe me, you're not going to find it~!” How are you still following me? Where do you come from? “Hey! Listen! Why don't we do something else besides running in circles!?” Noooooooooo... “There are TONS of other activities we could do! Like... HOLY MOLY, look at this stick! Do you like sticks!?” Leave me aloneee... “You aren't looking at it! Okay, alright, you don't like sticks, erm... what might be of interest to you...” If I don't look at it it doesn't exist. “Could you help me a little here?” I want to leave... “Look, no matter how much you wander around, you won't find the portal-!”

“STOP—! STOP FOLLOWING ME! LEAVE ME ALONE!” The sudden scream startles him again, making him jump in place. He stands completely still looking at me. I'm leaving before he gets angry.

“B-but I- ...okay.” I thought I heard him say before I left him behind.

It seems that this time he's not following me, finally... Although I'm not calm, he could still be following me and simply not be in sight. Anyway, I think I'm coming back? I hope I am. I want to find that portal as soon as possible and go back to the house- what the fu-? “WHY?”

He's there. Right where I left him. Sitting on a rock. Waiting. “...! I haven't moved from the spot!”

“Yeah- but- WHY?”

“Because I knew you were going to come back here!”

“...What?”

“Is what I was trying to tell you! You can't leave! No matter how hard you try to find the portal, it won't appear before you!” The Sunman exclaimed.

“…” I'm just about to turn around. In fact, I'm already turning around.

“N-No, wait! Please don't go!” I stop in my track and look back at him. He gets off the rock he was sitting on but remains squatting, almost at my height, a little below. I move back, keeping my distance. He puts his hands up. “Look, I'm not doing anything! I won't chase you! Just- ...don't go.”

“…”

“L-look, listen, there's no way it's going to show up! Well, not to you at least. But even if you find it back, it won't work! It only works when it wants to work.”

“...” Let's imagine that I trust what he says “Ok... and when does it want to be working?”

“...” “No idea!”

“...”

I'm about to collapse on the spot. At least he doesn't seem hostile, for now. “...” “Okay... Good... Great...” “...” “FanTAS-tic.”

“...” “You don't seem like it.”

*ಠ_ಠ* I could only look to the side in frustration in response to that. I looked back at him with concern showing on my face and grabbing the strap of my bag with both hands. “And... what... do you plan to do with me?”

He took his hand to the chin of his mask and with the other he held his elbow in a comical thoughtful pose. “MmmmnnDUN know! What do you plan to do?” He asked so nonchalantly. He ended up sitting on the ground crossing his legs. “You have a good while until the portal opens again...!”

“...”

He started swaying. The silence has become uncomfortable for a while now, but I can't organize myself on what to say, and I don't know if I trust him. I don't even know if he's human, although something tells me he's not.

“You could wait here.” He suggested, breaking me out of my thoughts. “Or anywhere else, if you want. I would recommend somewhere high like the treetops (for no particular reason)! If you're going to wait... But wouldn't that be really boring?” There was something in his tone of voice... “Being there... at the top of a tree... waiting... alone... with no friends to hang out with (can I call you a friend?). Aaall on your own until the portal opens again.” He looks aside for a moment “...” And back at me again. “With no one to be with you.” He repeats the head motion “...” “alone...” Wow... I wonder what he's implying, ahem. “Wouldn't you want to have someone...? ...Someone...keeping you company?” Yeah, yeah...

“...” I guess... “I-I guess I wouldn't want to be alon-?”

He rises to his knees. “That's what I thought! Do you want me to accompany you? Only if you want! But can I?” He clasped his hands together as if asking a favor.

“um...”

“Can I?Can I?Can I?Can I?Can I?Can I?Can I?” He approaches, dragging his knees on the ground.

I'm starting to miss personal space. “Okay! Okay, alright...”

“REALLY?” He started hopping and jumping around me. “OH, ohoho hO! Great! Oh, there are TONS of things we could do! Like... Like...!” He moves faster, doing bigger and bigger flips and jumps, it almost seems that he is very light, as if the breeze of air lifted him. “We could paint and decorate trees! Or we can also paint on rocks! Or paint leaves! Or paint us! Oh! We can tell stories! I'm very good at making shadows and puppets.” He moves from place to place with each sentence he says. “We can also play something!” It's moving so fast all I can see is the wind and the leaves it stirs up as it moves. “Anything! Whatever you want!” Finally he stopped in front of me half crouched. “What do ya say?! Hmm! Friend!?”

“Don't... call me like that.” Makes me feel awkward.

“Oh...why not-? Oh true, true! How silly, I don't know your name! What do you call yourself, potential friend?”

“...”

“...” “Aren't... you gonna tell me your name?”

I twist the bag strap “Depends...” I must say I'm a little skeptical about this. “Are there any consequences for telling you my name?”

“...Consequences...?”

“Like... I don't know... Mmm-by telling you my name I become your possession and cannot regain my freedom until... certain conditions are met...”

“...”

“Why- how-? Where did you get that from!?” It did sound a bit stupid when I said it out loud.

“I dunno- that's what they say in old children's stories about elves and fairies!” I just hope the embarrassment isn't showing on my face.

“Really?” I could feel his deadpan expression behind the mask.

I shrugged.

“...” “Okay... Oh, what if I tell you my name first? Will you tell me yours? It's only fair, I'm Sun!”

“...”

“Can I know your name now?” He asked expectantly.

“...How do I know you're not trying to trick me?”

“...” I must be driving him crazy with this “The only thing I can do with your name is treasure it in my memory.” He put his hands together as if he was carefully holding something and brought them to the forehead of the mask. I gave him a distrustful look. It doesn't seem like it made him desist “Please?”

I grip at my worn out bag strap “...” “ Fern...” I ended up murmuring.

“Hmm? Fern? OH, I like it!” “Sounds like FRIEND.” He emphasized the last word by making a gesture like jazz hands, leaning to the side and moving his head closer to me.

“Yeah... I think you are missing a couple of letters.”

He straightened his posture again. “Nope, I don't think so!”

“You're still not my friend.”

“Oooowwwwwnnnnnggghhh” He lowers his head dramatically until it practically touches the ground “nnnnnnngggghh, alright!” And cartwheels to stand up again “So... what will it be?”

“Hm?”

He straightened his posture and puts his arms on his hips “We have plenty of time, ya? What do you wanna to do?”

“I don't know, what do you want to do-?” Bad mistake.

“Come with me!”

“aaAAAAA-!” Before I knew it, he had grabbed my arm and I was being dragged through the woods. We visited several places and he offered me an activity to do in each of them.

—

Sun took me to a place where the trees were full of colorful paint “We practice painting on the trees here!” He said.

“Ah.” That explains the crossed out lines and the repeated imperfect shapes. By the look of it is also where he tests the quality of the paint.

“Do you want us to paint something!?”

“Not really...”

“Oh, would you prefer it to be on a rock?”

“Nah.”

“...And in star leaves-?”

“I don't want to paint, Sun.”

“Oh... Well, I can show you more places!”

“OkayyEEEEEE-” And I'm being dragged away again.

—

He brought me to another area of the forest, the ground here seemed more leveled. Not a single tree was straight, all of them were twisted and even seemed to be hollow. “How about playing something!? Like hide and seek-! No, wait, I can’t let you out of my sight.” He mumbled at the end “And chase?! We can climb a tree and see who reaches the top first! We have a place full of vines and it's perfect for swinging- and jumping from one tree to another-!”

“I don't... really want to move a lot…” With the way he runs without getting tired and me, who doesn't exercise... he would let me dead.

“Oh... well, theeen-”

—

We arrived at a place full of vegetation and humidity. Sun seemed quite excited... “This place is full of insects! We can look for cool bugs!”

“Mmmmmnoooo... I don't want to.” I had to tell him, trying to show as little disinterest as I could.

“You don't like them?” He sounded a little disappointed hearing my reaction.

“No, I do like them, some of them, but I don't like to touch them.” And I'm terrified of them flying into my face.

“Oh, well, it's okay!” He said brushing it off and we moved on to the next stop.

—

“I know that bird!” He stopped us on the way to point at a robin high up on a branch.

“ah.” I said as I removed leaves from my hair and clothes, and checked that I still had my glasses.

“He's a little rascal!”

“...” I think the bird is making us the equivalent of 'mooning'.

—

“Look fish-! Oh, they're gone…” The noise must have scared them away “We can go find more places to look at them if you want!”

“...” “...no, pass...”

“…”

—

“Look at this stick!” Sun had suddenly sprinted past me, picked up something from the ground, and came back just as fast, showing me the stick as if it were a sword.

“oh.” It's a cool stick, must admit it.

“Do you want to look for more sticks!?”

“No...”

“oh...” He looked at the ground in disappointment.

“Why would we go looking for sticks? There are all over the ground.” Specifically, in this area the ground was all sticks. We are literally just stepping on sticks right now. I don't see the ground.

“Variety!” Sun said pointing at the ground with both hands. A branch is heard falling in the distance.

—

“That's a deer!” He pointed at the deer passing nearby. The deer stopped to look at us.

“Yeah, I see.”

“We call 'em Adoquín!”

“...Why is it called Adoquí-?”

*THUMP!*

“…”

The deer smacked itself against a tree when trying to run away. It stands still for a minute, processing the hit, looks at a side and then the other, then runs off again but this time avoiding the tree.

Another *thump!* is heard in the distance.

“...” Alright.

—

“Do you wannaaaa look for pine cones? There will be some fallen around here. Oh! We can also look for mushrooms!”

I keep saying no to everything he suggests and it doesn't look like he's going to run out of ideas to pass the time. In fact, he's very insistent that we do something. I guess at some point I'll have to say yes to something. “...” “...okay...”

“Hmm?! Okay? Okay to what?” His exaggerated surprise offends me but I don't blame him.

“To... I don't know, pine cones?”

“...You don't look very convinced.”

“…”

“OKAY! On the hunt for pine cones then!” I startle a little at the sudden shout. He makes a pose pointing in a direction, as if he were leading an expedition.

He takes me through the forest looking for pine cones. We aren't finding many, especially me who's not paying any interest. He tries encouraging me to put more effort into it but I keep looking at my boots.

We passed near a shingle river. I find a pebble at my feet and bend down to pick it up and take a better look. It's like a bluish gray, it has some reddish lines in the shape of waves, it feels good to the touch.

I hear the soft tinkling of a bell and feel a shadow fall beside me. “You like pebbles?” Sun is crouched next to me with his arms full of pine cones.

“…” I nod.

We go down to the river and spend some time collecting pebbles with curious shapes or small details of colors, lines, spots, etc. He comes over to show me one every time he finds weird shapes.

“…”

*rin* This time he's hunched over resting his hands on his knees. “You look… a little down.”

“…”

“Hey... we can do something else if you're tired of the pebbles.”

“...” I drop the pebbles I was looking at on the ground.

“...” He turns his gaze from me to the sky. It hasn't gotten late enough to be getting dark, but it's been a while between the walks we've taken (dragging me from here to there), looking for pine cones and then pebbles in the river. He looks back at me. “Oh, I know! Can I take you to one last place? A better place than the ones I've shown you!”

“…” I got up from the ground and waited for him to start leading to follow him.

We enter the increasingly thick forest. The trees are taller and bigger, in fact, I start to see platforms and bridges lying between the trees, I even see small shanties in them.

“Wait here!” He takes a run and jumps onto one of the trees with bridges. He takes three steps running up the tree, with a jump he pushes himself off and climbs with agility until he reaches the platform and climbs on it. “Just a moment!” It can't be seen from here but I can faintly hear some squeaks. I have no idea of what he's doin-

*rush*

“........eh?”

A rope.

A rope has fallen. At the level of my head.

“.......”

What?

…

He said he knew a better place.

No. It can't be this.

“Is it at a good height?! Can you reach it?!” He says...

It can't be.

A better place.

He can't be referring to this.

A better place.

A better place. A better place. A better place. A better place.

“Can you put your foot in?!”

“..........” For some reason what he said throws me off. “WAT-?”

“Can you put your foot in the loop and hold on to the rope so I can pull you up!?”

“..............”

“You can't climb trees, can you?! ...or you can?"

… “...” Oh “....It's...It's too high!”

“Okay!” Squeaks are heard and the rope descends to the ground.

I put my foot into the rope as he told me and hold on to it. “O-okay...!”

“Are you ready!?”

“Yes!”

“Okay!”

He begins to pull up the rope (which doesn't tighten around my foot as it supports my weight) and helps me up to the platform. (That's what it was for, obviously, what else would he want? I'm such an...) “Come on!” He says cheerfully, as always, and takes me over the bridges. “You seem tense... Don't tell me you're afraid of heights!”

“S-something like that... it's nothing.” He tilts his head at that but he says nothing. I have an unpleasant sensation in my throat.

We arrived at a high place with a view of waterfalls, I can't see above the trees. We sat on one of the bridges, resting our arms on the rope that serves as a railing and letting our legs hang off the bridge. I've thought about taking out the sketchbook to draw... but I don't really feel like it right now, so I just quietly observe the landscape. It is a better place, yeah.

…

I feel watched. I turn to look at him ...Of course he was looking at me. I don't even know whether to say something or keep quiet. ...I decide... not to say anything and look to the front.

“You... aren't very talkative, huh.”

“…”

“Not that it's a bad thing! Many people who have come here weren't very talkative at first either.” More people...

“...” “I have… nothing to talk about.” I don't want to talk.

“...” “Well, I do.”

“…”

“If it's okay with you, of course.” He laughed. Although something tells me that he is going to talk anyway.

“…”

“...” “What brings you to the forest?”

“...” Really? “I got lost.”

“Yeah, I already know!” He says between laughs “But what made you get lost?”

“...” “There was a group of kids I didn't want to get close to and I decided to go into the woods to lose them.” He makes a 'hum' sound and looks at me expectantly waiting for me to continue “And... I ended up getting myself lost...”

“...” “Only that?”

“...” “Well, yeah.” What do you mean 'oNlY tHaT'?

“...Mmm...” He places his hand on the chin of the mask.

“...” “What?”

“Nothing!” “...” “You know? You're the first human to visit the forest in a loooong time. For several cycles now…”

“Cycles?”

“Mhm” He nods.

“...What are cycles?”

Sun points to the sky “The turns that the Moon makes in the sky!” He emphasizes by rotating his arm in the air. It's pointing right at the Moon that's visible in the sky.

“Oh...” He uses the lunar cycles to know what day he's in, makes sense. “...” “So no one has been here in a while.”

“That's what I said! Well no, but yes!”

“A-and so the humans who came are still here? Have they been here all this time?”

“Yeah...! Well, no!” He paused. “They're gone!”

“What do you mean they're-?” He didn't let me finish the question.

“They are gone! They 'left'!” It sounded like he had given this answer many times already.

“What do you mean they left-?”

“They 'left'!”

“...” “...You mean...they disappear-?”

“Nope!” “...” “Something like that!” “…” “Mmmore or less…” He hesitated between one answer and another.

It seemed worthless to ask about the missing people. “...okay.” “Can I ask you-?”

“You can ask me anything!” A hint of nervousness escaped his tone.

“...okay. What is this forest?”

“My home! And the home of many other animals.”

“...” “Alright, and... how many are you...? How many of you live here? I mean. You have taken me everywhere and we haven't seen anyone of your…” I make a pointing gesture, spinning my hand around in the air. He can't be human, it doesn't look like he is. “...” “Honestly, I don't know what you are.”

“...” “There's only me... And someone else!” He looks away, as if trying to hide something.

“Oh... and who's that someone?”

“Oh! N-no, don't worry! He’s… just a friend… But it’s not important that you meet him or anything!” He brushes it off making a gesture with his hand. “Uh-um- How about we talk about you!? huh? What things do you like? Earlier, since you said no to everything, I thought you didn't like ANYTHING!” He continued talking without letting me respond. “I didn't know what to do if I ran out of ideas. I started to worry! But at least you're not one of those who spend all day shouting and threatening with a weapon in hand, ahaha...” He let out a nervous laugh.

“Um-”

“Well, you ran away screaming, yes.” He began to gesticulate widely as he complained “Like everyone-! No, not like everyone, some don't run, but those who, apart from running and screaming, attack you...! I mean...!” Something tells me he wasn't going to shut up and I was already half listening. “First they throw rocks at my head, then they insult me and run away. And I have to run after them because I can't just leave a human running around alone! No! I can't! Not in this forest! Anything could happen to them! But they never let me warn them!” He sounded tired. “And when I get them to stop running away from me, they throw things at me again and yell before demanding me to tell them where are they and how to get out of here, and when I explain it, they yell at me even more and accuse me of lying!” He turns to look at me with his hands pointing to his chest. “What reason would I have to lie?!” I don't know if he hasn't noticed or if he's ignoring the deapan I responded with. “UGH! I don't know what to do with those! But anyhow... I'm so glad we found something to do in the end!

“eh?” I snap out of my thoughts. It seems that now he is directing the conversation to me.

“The pebbles!” He sits turning his body towards me, leaving one single leg hanging from the bridge and the other resting on it. He takes out of his pocket some of the pebbles that he had been collecting with me. “I don't know why I assumed you wouldn't want to look for rocks. Maybe because you didn't want to paint them before... You left them back in the river in the end tho, I thought you would keep some.”

“Ah... I don't know. I didn't think I could take them with me.”

“You can keep some of mine!”

“No, it's okay.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

“You suuuuure??” He insist.

“Yeees.”

He puts a pebble very close to my face “Suuuuuuuure?” Each 'u' sounding higher than the last.

“...” I push the pebble away from my face “Yeeeees.”

“mmmh... Okay! But I hope you don't regret it later when you don't have a cool rock like these and think 'Oh man, I could have a cool rock right now!'.” After a bad impression of me, he keeps the rocks in his pants. “So... Besides pebbles, what else do you like? Mm? I haven't been able to deduce much from today.”

“Don't know.”

“What do you mean you don't know!? Oh! Is it a secret?” He approaches and starts to whisper, putting his hands to the mask's mouth “I won't tell anyone, promise.”

“No. I don't know.” I looked to the side. “I can't think of anything... so suddenly.”

“ooow...” He slumps a little over the railing, looking sad.

“…” I hesitate whether to say something or not “...Drawing...”

“Mmm?!” He no longer seems sad.

“And listening to music, I guess.” “It's... all I do... most of the time.”

“Really!? Oh! I also like drawing! And music! But is that really all you do all day? Don't you do other kinds of things? Like reading! Or writting. Don't you go out for a walk or play with your friends?” I wrinkle my face at that last bit and he tilts his head in confusion.

“I don't go out.” “I have comics, but I rarely read.”

“Comics?”

“Um... They are stories but instead of narrating what happens there are drawings and only what the characters say is written.”

“...It's a book with drawings?”

“Yeah, but with a lot of drawings on each page, from start to finish.”

“WOAH.” He sounded perplexed. “That's drawing A LOT.”

“Yeah, it is.”

“Ahh, I'd love to see what they look like.” He rested his arm on the railing to hold his head in his hand “Too bad I can't…”

“I didn't bring them anyway.”

“Do you normally carry them around?”

“No, it's just that I didn't bring them to the village with me, I left them at home.”

“...” “Oh!” It seems that something has clicked on him. “You are not from the village.”

“No, I'm from a more urban area. My family used to come to the village every year in the summer, but we stopped coming. Now it seems that we are trying to get back into the habit.” I sighed.

“Why did you stop coming?”

“...That's personal.”

“Oh... okay.” He let a minute of awkward silence pass. “Hey, I can bring some books that I have at home! I think you might be interes-!” He looks away from me to the sunset behind us, the sun is almost gone. “-ted...” I look at the sunset too and then at him with confusion. “...” “...oh...oh-OH, Oh-no!” He stands up abruptly causing the bridge to shake slightly. What could have he seen? “We have to move!” He extends a hand to help me up. “We have to start moving!”

I get up in a hurry on my own, ignoring his hand. “O-okay, to where?”

“Come, run!” Once again he grabs me by the arm and leads me over the bridges between the trees until we reach a tree hut. It's small and dark, it looks like a small shelter. He opens the door and enters “You'll spend the night here, stay inside, do not go out, try to hide well and don't open the windows or doors, okay? Here, there are some blankets. I'll come back later.”

“Wait wait wait! What? What do you mean you'll come back later? What's happening? Why do I have to hide-!?”

“Sssh-ssh-sh” He grabs me and covers my hand with his, his left hand resting on the back of my right hand. He begins to speak in a calmer tone, with a voice that I had not heard him use until now. “It's okay, nothing happens. I have to go, I'll come back, but I can't stay now. You hide, try to rest, I'll be back, I promise.”

“...” I take my hand away from his. “Okay.” “I'll stay, but don't take too long.” Please, I don't want to be here alone.

“Yes. I'll be back.” He affirmed one last time. I watch him run away and disappear among the trees and undergrowth. I enter the small shelter to inspect it.

*TAP TAP TAP* *PLOK* *TAP TAP FOOSSSH! *

…? A noise comes from behind me. I turn around and there's a pebble on the floor.

…

Okay.

I take out my phones flashlight to see better inside the house. There are what appear to be some trunks, small cabinets, and a trapdoor in the floor, It seems that there are corners and blind spots for the windows where the little moonlight that enters through the cracks cannot reach. It's freezing cold and I haven't brought my jacket. I leave the bag on the floor against the wall, I cover myself with the blanket and curl up in a ball in the most hidden corner I can find. I'm tired, I want to sleep, but I can't close my eyes.

…

—

It's been a few hours now.

…

I can't sleep, I simply can't.

…

It doesn't look like he's coming back.

*creek*

…?

*rin*

*tap tap, creek*

Sun?

“S-...” I pause before saying a word, I have the feeling I shouldn't speak. I remain silent and wait.

*tap, tap, tap, creeeeeek, tap*

*rin dirrin*

If it were Sun he would have already let me know it is him. That or he's playing a prank on me which isn't funny, but I'd better stay silent. From the shadow I look at the windows. I notice movement through the cracks, something has just passed through the wall next to me.

*dirriring dirring*

I cover myself more with the blanket, back against the wall, I stay as still as I can, I leave a gap between the blankets and the floor to see. A red glow sneaks through the cracks in the window and scans the room.

…

The glow is gone.

*tap, tap, rin, tap, dirring, tap, tap*

It's on the roof.

…

*tap, tap, tap...*

It moves again.

*rin *

…

It sounded on the other side of the wall.

…

“nghehe...”

It laughed. Why did it laugh? Whatever is on the other side of the wall just let out a laugh that made the hairs on the back of my neck and all over my back rise.

…

Oh no.

Oh no no no no no no no no.

I have to move. I have to get out of here. I can't stay here.

*creeek*

It came from the door. It's trying to get in.

*rin*

The trapdoor.

*rin dirring*

Where was the trapdoor?

*creek creeeek*

I crawl across the floor making the minimum noise, carefully feeling the floor, looking for the edge of the door.

*tap tap ring dirring*

…!

I found it. I open it carefully. It's too high. I'm at a very high altitude, I don't know if I'll be able to go down.

*rin, creeek...*

…

Fuck it. I slip through the gap quietly, closing it slowly, but that doesn't stop the door from creaking. I cling to the bark of the tree-

…

I left my bag. If it comes in and see it it'll know for sure that I have been there-

…

It doesn't matter now. I have to focus on getting down from the tree without killing myself. My fingers hurt and I can't put my foot down properly because of the soles of my boots. I feel like I'm going to slip at any moment. Somehow I make it to the ground. Still attached to the tree, I look up at the house. I don't see it-

…

A shadow appears from behind the tree. I press myself against the tree and hold my breath. It's looking for something. When he doesn't seem to look I move to a nearby tree, he moves to another tree, I move to the next, and the next, and the next. We continue like this until I start to get further and further away from him. When I think I've lost him I start running. I hide behind a tree to catch my breath.

…

I slowly peek out from behind the tree.

*rin*

…

It sounded above me.

…

I don't look up, I run.

“nnghehee...” He laughs.

He gives me a few seconds advantage before coming after me. The chase begins.

I run forward as much as I can, I hear his footsteps behind me but I don't look back, there's no time for that. I hear him laughing like a madman as he moves from left to right, from one tree to another, crawling on the ground, trying to confuse me, waiting for me to make the slightest mistake to catch me.

“Ah-” I trip. As soon as I fall to the ground I get up, ripping my stockings and scraping my knees, falling again, my nerves not letting me stand up.

“Nnhehehhehe...” Asshole. He has stopped running, he approaches by walking. I try to keep as much distance as my hands and legs allow me to move. I search desperately with my hand for something on the ground to throw. Finally my hand finds something.

I throw a rock at him “AGH!”

The rock passes by him, flying one or two meters away from him. He hasn't even moved, he didn't move a single muscle to avoid it, he just watches me still from where he is. I hear the nearby *pof* of the rock falling to the ground.

“...”

…

I get up and run. He grabs my leg and I fall to the ground again. He won't let me get up, every time I try he throws me to the ground. I struggle, I kick, but I don't break free from his grip. He never stops laughing, he is enjoying this. He drags me closer to him, no matter how much I twists, he doesn't let go. “ACKH-!...Hhhh-hh...-hh-h...” He grabs me by the neck, red pupils stared at me, I'm looking straight into his crescent moon mask (or waning, I don't know. Do you think I care right now?). He raises his free hand and his veins begin to glow a platinum color that extends to his fingertips. The hand approaches my face, I don't know what it's going to do to me, I'm scared, I don't want to look. I close my eyes, cover my face with my hands. I wait.

…

…?

Nothing's happening. It stopped. Why?

“Mun, nïe.” I hear Sun's voice. I open my hands a little to see what's going on. Indeed, it is Sun, several meters away from us... He looks exhausted. The one with the moon mask stares at him for a moment, until he decides to look at me again while bringing his glowing veiny hand closer. “¡Mun!” The Moonman looks at Sun again “Fehreh.” He seems to speak another language, I don't understand what he says.

“...” “Nïe” For the first time I hear him say something else besides laughing. Even though I can't understand him.

“Fïer pehgïer.” Sun responds.

“...” Moonman remains silent again.

“Bïelïe óubseh góuh...” Sun continues.

“Móu txehb móunsuvïe.” The Moon responds.

“Lïe bóu ¿Sóundïe mïesugïeb fehreh nïe txehtehrlïe?”

…

The air feels tense. Probably because of the hand grabbing my neck.

“¿Zkaóu fuóunbehb txehtóur tkaehnvïe nïe bóueh mehb zkaóu ïesreh rehuh óunsóurrehveh óun leh suóurreh?” Longest sentence I've heard him say so far.

“...” “Fïer óubseh góuh.” “...” “Vóuyehmóu óuntehrdehrmóu vóu óulleh” Sun takes a step forward “Nïe suóunóu fïer zkaóu ehtehkehr ehbu” Another step forward “Nïe sóunóumïeb fïer zkaóu txehtóurlóub... óubsïe” Another step “Óullïeb bïelïe óubsehn... fóurvuvïeb.”

“...” There's no response from the moon man.

“Behkehb tïemïe óub óubïe.”

“...”

…

The hand that grabbed my neck now grabs my shirt and yanks it. I grab his wrist as he pulls me to my feet and drags me to Sun, making me stumble. He throws me against him. Sun catches me before I fall over.

“Ska óubpkaóurhïe óub óun gehnïe.” The moon says something as he walks past. Sun puts a hand on his shoulder before letting him go, there's a pause between the two. The Moonman disappears into the trees. Wind and leaves are heard passing by.

…

He's gone. I feel dizzy. I fall down.

—

…

A faint light begins to seep through the cracks, illuminating enough to wake me up and make me open my eyes, I look around. I see my bag propped against the wall. I'm at the shelter where Sun left me.

…

My body aches, I have a hard time keeping my eyes open, it feels like I've been sleeping on the hard floor. No, wait, there are some blankets underneath me... It's still too hard to sleep well, either that or as I said, it shouldn't help me at all that everything hurts. After a while of staring at the ceiling I try to sit up. I emphasize trying. With every slight effort a pained moan escapes me.

“Oof...” Hurts.

*creek, tap tap tap tap*

Those wood creaks bring back bad memories from last night (which by the way, I'm alive, wow, I just realized), I can't help but cringe at every noise, I hear footsteps approaching, I try to move but the stinging pain prevents me from it.

*creek... *

The door opens.

Triangular shapes appear through the door followed by orange earth tones. “…Oh…!” “Early bird!” Thank god it's Sun and not the other one, or something worse “I didn't expect you up this early!” He says laughingly.

“ah?”

“How are you feeling?” He walks in. When he sets foot inside I lean back, towards the wall. “...” I don't really know why I did that. Sun stands at the door showing confusion with his usual head tilt. “...Arrr...re you okay, Fern?”

“...” I became tense suddenly. I really don't know still if I can trust him? He hasn't done anything to me yet but that doesn't mean that I can trust him. I don't know if he plans to do something with me like whatever that other one, the moon one, was going to do last night. “...ehh...hhh...h...” I can't get a word out, I'm afraid to ask.

“Mm?”

“...” I don't know what to say to him. My eyes go somewhere else.

…

He enters further into the house, ignoring that I keep my distance from him, leaves a bag he was carrying on the floor and begins to open the windows, letting in the little light of the dawn that is just beginning. He kneels on the floor in front of me with the bag. “Are you hungry?” He opens the bag and takes out an apple “Do you like apples?”

“...”

“No?”

“...”

“Um... I also brought berries... (It's what I had on hand coming here) There are... different types, you can choose” He brings the bag closer to me. I move further away. “uhhh...”

“...” I want to leave.

“You don't like them either...?”

“...” I don't want to eat. I want to leave.

“...”

“*snif... *”

“u-um...!”

“...*snif* *sob*...” I started crying out of nowhere.

“Ahhh...! D-do- don't cry! Ah-I-Um- Ca-can go find other things you might like-!”

I felt ashamed for crying and I put my hands to my face trying to wipe away the tears, but they wouldn't stop coming. “*hic, sniff, snif *” I looked away in an attempt to cover my face. I ended up looking at the floor, letting my hair act as a curtain.

“I can go in a moment!” Sun was already getting up.

“...w-want to leave...” I managed to get a murmur out.

“...W-what? Um...”

“...” *hic, hic *

“O-okay, um... If you aren't hungry... -we can do something else- uh- we can go look for rocks like yesterday in the river!”

“...” I don't want to do anything “...want to leave...”

“O-or we can do something else! Ah-bah-b-b-b- W-won't you like to go draw??! Somewhere, some landscape?! Wherever you want! We can draw together! If you prefer we can look for animals instead of landscapes!”

“...leave...want to...go... *hic, snif *”

“¡D-don't n- uh! ¡L-let's... um- let's not- uh!” He no longer knew how to order his words “H-hey, ¿Why don't we go to-?” He extends his hand towards my arm.

“I want to go home...”

He stops before touching me and removes his hand. “...” “...home?” There is a pause. He remains silent and unmoving. He finally speaks “Do you want…?” His tone became more serious.

“...”

“...to... go see the portal?” I look up slightly, I can't see through the tears and the fogged lenses of my glasses.

“...” I nod my head.

—

…

We didn't walk far until the red began to become visible. He brought me back to the portal. The same plain of red leaves and stone arch in the center of it all, as yesterday.

…

Sun has been quiet the entire time.

He advances towards the portal and stands facing it. He turns. “Come.” He extends his hand towards me. “You can pass through.”

“...”

I advance towards the portal. I stop before crossing. If it doesn't take me back home, what do I do? I don't want to stay.

A breeze begins to come out of the portal. The breeze turns to wind, the leaves rise, they pass through us. It's the same thing that happened yesterday when I went to cross. I turn to face Sun. Motionless, he looks back at me, the leaves pause in the air for a second as if time has stopped, the wind changes. From where the wind and leaves came now they come in, they push me towards the portal. I finally cross it.

…

Am I in the forest I know? I turn to look at Sun who stayed behind in the portal. “...Sun?” He's not there. I look around. He's not here. I've already crossed the portal, he must have left.

I notice a sudden draft pass by me. It's soft, like someone walking past you. I turn towards the forest, I have to start moving, I don't want to be here another minute.

...The air current that I noticed has lifted some leaves, they reach the trees, between them the wind does something strange, it forms a transparent silhouette. It looks like Sun, I can barely see him but I could swear it's him. The wind figure raises its hand and makes a gesture, it wants me to follow it. When I approach it turns around and walks into the forest, leaving a trail of leaves behind it. I follow the trail of the air current. Sometimes it stops to look at me, making sure I'm still following it. The red-leafed trees and the paintings disappear from view the farther we go. We crossed the forest until we arrived at the entrance of the town, near my house. There is no one on the street. If I walked into the house and pretended nothing had happened, officially no one would have noticed my absence.

I'm not one hundred percent sure if the wind figure that guided me is Sun or not, but I should at least thank him for bringing me back.

…

The air current has dissipated before I turn around. I look around, there's no one.

…

I enter the house, go up to my room and throw the bag on the floor. I go to the bathroom to wash. …I feel something strange in my hands but I couldn't say what. Doesn't matter. I change my clothes and get into bed, the tiredness of the previous night makes my body succumb immediately and I fall asleep instantly.

—

…

“ah...!” I wake up with my lungs begging for air. I need a moment to calm my breathing. I look at the clock without lifting my head from the pillow.

…

It is 12 midday. I rub my eyes and from my eyes I move to my face. I'm still tired. My body still aches. I stare at the ceiling.

…

My bag. I reach out to pick it up from the floor, making strange positions so as not to get out of bed.

I open it and search in the pockets. The bell. I put the bell to my ear. “...” I shake it.

*rin, diring diring*

“...”

I open it.

…

It's empty.

#my writing #fnaf daycare attendant #fnaf sun #fnaf moon #fanfic #forest elves au #the forest on the other side #oc #selfinsert #platonic #sun & selfinsert #moon & selfinsert #dca au

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onesidedradiostatic · 6 months

Text

vox's outfits through the years, based on what little we can see

let's talk about the eras of vox's outfits. I've been trying to figure out how to properly express this post for a while considering the poor quality or little details of the photos we've seen but it was difficult.

this could easily be a bit inaccurate because of that

but REGARDLESS.

so you know how it's a common theory that vox modeled his outfit after alastor, bowtie, pinstripes, upturned collars? even with a cast full of bowties (like man vivzie really loves her bowties), their outfits are pretty similar, sir pentious likely modeled himself after one or both of them too (but he's not relevant to this post, just thought I'd address him since he's the other one with the similar fit)

but you know when those aspects aren't visible in vox's fit?

his picture with val

(where he... presumably partners up with him for the first time?)

in this picture, there's no bowtie, there's no upturned collar, you can barely see any visible pinstripes (although difficult to truly tell due to the quality of the picture, I can only see a vague stripe across his sleeve), even the coloured tips of his fingers aren't visible in the picture, the qualities that are reminiscent of alastor are barely present

however, in his photo with alastor...

which is presumably taken BEFORE the one with val which we can assume because

val fell 20 years after vox, and alastor fell before vox, giving a 20 year period where vox likely associated with alastor without val

the alastor photo is black and white while the val one is in colour

in that photo...

...vox seems to have visible pinstripes on his shoulder. which isn't much, but when he's standing right next to alastor like that, the similarities stand out. even with that small part of his shoulder, it clearly mirrors alastor.

of course, most of vox is obscured in this photo so I can't say it with 100% accuracy (we can't tell whether or not he has a bowtie and upturned collar or not. whether he started out with the stupid orange-red turtleneck). but with the alastor mirroring? seems to show mimicry of alastor during the time when they were friends.

this is working on a LOT of assumptions right now due to unclear details of the photos but what it seems like to me is

vox mimics alastor's fit -> vox/alastor falling out + partnering up with val -> stops mimicking alastor -> alastor disappears for 7 years -> starts mimicking alastor again? (current fit)

the possibility of him changing his fit to not mimic alastor in his picture with val could put his falling out with alastor at around the same time as his partnership with val, but this is working off a bit of a weaker assumption due to like 80% of vox not being visible in the vox + alastor photo. so feel free to take this one with a grain of salt.

very interesting to me though, that there was a period of time, in the beginning of his partnership with val where he wasn't mimicking alastor, but somewhere down the line to his current fit, he decided to start mimicking him again, despite this definitely being an era after their falling out. that he for some reason, despite hating alastor now, decided to go back to mimicking alastor, whether consciously or not. maybe even because of how much he felt his absence during those 7 years?

or maybe vivziepop just really likes pinstripes and bowties and upturned collars and there isn't a deeper meaning to this who knows

this is a post I've wanted to make for a while, but the finer details of the photos being unclear has just made me constantly make edits to it due to unknown factors, like I said, it's very possible certain details are inaccurate due to lack of information, but I'm trying to work with something here, so hopefully this is comprehensible.

although not the cause of this post, this comic got me to revisit this in my drafts (and has a really good take on vox mimicking alastor during his 7 year absence, which DID inspire one of the hypotheticals of this post) so check that out

#osrs.txt #radiostatic #staticradio #onewaybroadcast #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel vox #vox #vox hazbin #vox hazbin hotel #something something the guy always screaming about the future being unable to let go of the past #hazbin hotel

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beenbaanbuun · 7 months

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Bunnnnyyyy I'm having yuyu withdrawals 😭😭

I recently stumbled across the spiderman yuyu edit on Instagram again and it has me running LAPS

Like can you imagine being roommates with photography major spider!yunho, noticing his odd disappearances and late nights but never saying anything, which he appreciates because lord knows he doesn't have the capacity for it rn sinde I'd headcannon this is right after his uncle's desth when he's still in his angry grief era.

But MC would be sweet even though he's cold and kinda mean, she wouldn't be nosy or pry, always asks him to eat with her out of courtesy (which isn't a big deal for her but it kinda chips away at his heart because she's so sweet about it).

Still he maintains certain boundaries till one day he comes home all beat up and bruised, and MC patches him back up, there’s so much tension in the room when she has to peel off his shirt to check the bruises on his sides, when he softly asks why she cares about him so much, when she quietly admits that it's because she likes him-

AKSHSKSHDKSDBJSBZSJ

I'm just..... obsessed with Yunho

-lyra

so this sent me a little insane and i wrote so much more than i was expecting to 😭😭 spidey!yunho has sent me down a rabbit hole and this is what we ended up with…

——————————————————————————“can we eat together tonight?” you ask as you stir the pasta around the pot. you made two portions, as usual, in the sheer hope that he wouldn’t be going out again. “i found this recipe i thought you’d like. i figured it might help cheer you up!” you shrug as if it’s no big deal.

but it is to yunho. as he picks his backpack up from the floor, he feels his heart break just a little. it would be so much easier for him to leave the apartment every night if it wasn’t for the fact that you were such a sweetheart. the fact that you always cook for him whenever you make something for yourself is something that has been slowly chipping away at his hard exterior for months now. the way that you put it in the fridge along with a cute little note whenever he isn’t there to eat with you has almost properlybroken that exterior in two.

yunho can’t deny that half of those precious little notes are stashed in the drawer of his nightstand; he rereads them whenever his emotions get the better of him. seeing the sweet messages scrawled onto the yellow post-it-notes never fails to make him smile. your pretty little words in your pretty little handwriting… he’d be insane not to keep them.

you turn around, taking your attention away from the pot for just a moment, and spot him with his jacket on and his rucksack slung lazily over one shoulder. as your face falls, he can’t help the way his heart breaks just a little more. you probably think you’ve hidden your disappointment well, and to anyone else you might have done. it’s just a shame that yunho is the way that he is, because he sees the way your shoulders deflate and the shadow of a frown disrupts your pretty face. he can practically feel the sadness radiating from you in waves, the hairs at the back of his neck standing up slightly as your not-so-obvious upset puts him on edge.

but then you seem to remember yourself, and within seconds you’ve picked yourself back up and are offering a small smile to him. he still feels that prickling at the back of his neck, though.

although it becomes apparent pretty quickly that that sensation may be caused by his own disappointment, rather than yours. as much as he’d like to pretend otherwise, he can’t deny the way that the feeling in his neck grows as he watches you pull a tupperware from the cupboard. you swap it with his dish - it was really yours, but you’d named it his because it’s red and red reminds you of him, for some reason - and he has to stifle his own frown. for some reason watching you replace the ceramic bowl with the plastic tub hits him right in the chest…

“i’ll put yours in the fridge, then,” you say as you turn back to the pasta and give it a stir, “you can grab it whenever you’re hungry; maybe when you get back tonight?”

sweetheart, his brain repeats over and over like a mantra. it rattles round his skull whilst he tries to find the words to thank you. to let you know just how much he appreciates it, even if he doesn’t always show it. and the words are right there. right on the top of his tongue…

but for some reason he can’t get them out.

“i’ll see you later,” is all he mumbles before he slips out of the doorway and dashes down the hallway to the open window that awaits him at the end.

you try not to let the way the door slams shut hurt you, but even with the strongest will in the world you wouldn’t be able to take away the ache in your chest. he’s just going through a rough patch, you try to convince yourself as you spoon his serving into the tupperware and clip the lid shut. he just needs some time alone after everything that’s happened to him, you think as you slip it into the fridge. it’ll be better soon, you pray as you pull out a pen and think about what to write on his note.

hope this pasta cheers you up, yun! if you like it, let me know and i’ll make it more often for you!!

the words make you cringe, but you slip it next to the tupperware anyway, closing the fridge with a huff. you doubt he even reads the notes anyway, so why does it matter if what you write on them is a little sickly-sweet.

with a sigh you grab your bowl and turn to the couch, ready to settle in and do nothing for the night. as usual, yunho’s portfolio stuff is everywhere, as well as the photos of that one spider-guy that he’s been collecting for his new job at the daily bugle. you hate the newspaper yourself, thinking that the conspiracy-led journalism is nothing but fear mongering nonsense, but you can’t fault yunho for working there; he’s only in it for the money, afterall. it’s just the life of a collage student to have to sell out your morals for a paycheck.

you pick it all up, organising it into somewhat-coherent piles on the coffee table before flopping down onto the ratty sofa and flicking the TV on. the volume is barely at a whisper, and you can’t help but curse yunho for having such good hearing; no doubt he feels the same when he turns the TV on to a deafening wall of sound after you’ve used it. the thought gives you a quick chuckle as you flick through the channels to find something to watch. you settle on a dumb reality show, quickly settling in for the evening so you can eat your pasta in peace.

———

hours pass before yunho returns, swinging the door open and startling you out of your TV-centred tunnel vision. you turn to him in surprise, ready to gently scold him for putting what would no doubt be another dent in the wall. that will have to come out of both of your deposits, you prepare yourself to tell him, but when you actually see him you pause.

he’s hunched up against a wall, chest rising and falling as he struggles to breathe. there’s a wheeze when he inhales, which only gets stronger when he breathes out, and the look of pain on his face that comes each and every time he respires sends you straight into panic mode. you don’t bother to turn the TV off as you stand up and rush towards him.

“fucking hell, yun,” you cry as you reach him. he winces at your shrill tone, drawing back into himself as you invade his personal space to check for injuries. the obvious one is his side, which he’s clutching in his grip like his life depends on it; you assume it’s a cracked rib, which would explain why breathing looks like it’s taking all of his effort. despite its necessity, its a notoriously painful thing to do with a broken rib.

a broken nose can make it difficult too, and as you begin to scan his face, you realise that he definitely has one of those. the way it twists to the side slightly, blood oozing from his right nostril like a faucet makes you flinch back a little, as if you’re the one that’s injured. you compose yourself quickly as you continue your search. black eye, split brow, split lip - the list goes on, but thankfully none of it seems too irreparable. with your basic knowledge of first aid, and yunho’s weirdly extensive first aid kit, you’re bound to have him fixed up in no time.

“bathroom,” you stutter out, taking a step back to give him some space. he almost misses your warmth as he watches you take a few steps towards the room that separates his bedroom from yours. he chases it, pushing himself away from the wall and stumbling after you. he doesn’t know why he wants you so close all of a sudden, but he feels like he needs it to survive. those brief few seconds he had you close somehow made him breathe a little easier. he follows you into the bathroom and shuts the door behind him.

silently, you gesture to the toilet and he takes a seat on the closed lid. his broad torso leans back against the tiles, and he relishes in the way that the cold seeps through his shirt and washes over his too-hot body. his head tips back against it too, and he watches you through hooded eyes as you scramble through the cabinet to find his first-aid kit.

sweetheart, his mind whispers again as you sit there on your knees in front of the cabinet, pushing rolls of toilet paper and bottles of cleaning product to the side. only you could be so adorably caring towards him after all these months of him actively pushing you away. only you would be so worried for him after he’d been trying his hardest to avoid you for months on end.

only you.

that feeling at the back of his neck comes back, only this time it’s stronger. every single hair on his body stands on end as he watches you pull the black bag from the back of the cabinet, whispering a cute little ‘a-ha’ to yourself. he smiles at that, not even bothering to hide it from you when you turn to him with the kit in hand. he doesn’t need to anymore; you’ve already seen everything else he used to hide.

which reminds him of his tattered spider-suit in his grasp. yunho holds out the red spandex for you to take from him, half expecting you to examine it and unveil all his secrets, but you don’t. you don’t even look at it as you toss the filthy fabric into the bathtub and turn the cold tap on. it’s the best for getting blood out, afterall. with little more thought about the piece of fabric, you turn back to yunho and unzip the black bag.

“unbutton your shirt,” you mutter as you pull out some wipes, a tube of antiseptic cream, and a large square bandage. you have no idea if his side is actually bleeding or not, but it’s best to be prepared, right? you look back at him with the materials in hand, only to see him staring back at you with an unreadable look in his eyes.

“what?” you grumble, taking notice of the fact that he hasn’t moved an inch. his hand was still clutched over his side and his shirt was still messily buttoned up. you sigh and move towards him, thinking nothing of it when you drop to your knees between his thighs and begin to unbutton the white fabric. his breath hitches as your fingers brush against his chest, but you pay him no mind, “yunho, move your arm - i need to get your shirt off.”

he doesn’t, remaining still as ever as you undo the last button that you can. you sit back on your haunches and watch him from where you sit between his spread legs.

“yun, come on,” you whine, and he closes his eyes at the sound. so beautiful; if only he wasn’t in pain so he could enjoy it more, “i need to undo the rest of your buttons and i can’t when you’re not letting me!”

you lay a hand on his wrist in a pleading gesture, asking wordlessly to let you take care of him. he listens this time and loosens his grip on his ribs. you pull his hand away, sucking in a breath as you catch sight of the red stain that his hand was previously covering. it’s not huge, but it still needs seeing to, so you go back to unbuttoning his shirt.

yunho tries not to think too hard as your hand brushes over his crotch when you undo the last two, just like when you eventually finish and push the sides of his shirt open to reveal his bare chest. it’s covered with bruises, and he bites his lip to suppress a groan as your delicate fingers dance softly across his damaged skin. he finds himself wishing the circumstances were different, and that you sitting between his legs, touching his chest could be so much more than you just worrying about him. as he watches you pick up the antiseptic wipes again, he’s reminded that that’s all it is; you being worried.

but that too confuses him. after all this time of him being a downright dick to you, you’re still so gentle with him. he’s abrupt and rude, and yet you still smile and say hello whenever you see him. he’s never around to eat with you, and yet you never fail to make him a meal every time you cook. he’s kept so much from you, and yet here you are, taking care of him like none of that ever mattered. like you can somehow see the man he is underneath all that.

he whimpers, and he’s not quite sure whether it’s because of the pain of the antiseptic wipe, or the pain he feels in his heart. either way, he needs something to take his mind off it all.

“why?” he asks as you clean his wound with a kind hand. so soft, your touch, as if you’re scared of hurting him. as if anything you could ever do would hurt him.

“why what?” you respond as you toss away the bloodied wipe and move to grab the cream. you put a dollop on your finger and begin to gently press it against the wound. he groans, and you mutter out a small apology. you mean it too; you don’t want to cause him any more pain.

“why are you doing this?” he says through gritted teeth, breathing heavy and laboured as he tried to power through the sting that he feels in his side, “why are you so nice to me when i’m - oh fuck, it hurts - when i’m anything but nice to you?”

you pause for a second, mulling over his question, repeating it in your mind until you can settle on an answer. well, an answer that’s palatable for him, anyway.

“you’re not not nice,” you say, capping the cream and putting it down on top of yunho’s thigh; you’d need it layered anyway. then you grab the bandage and rip off the adhesive cover, “and even if you were, i don’t think that wouldn’t change how i feel about you as a person.”

he watches with confusion in his eyes as you line up the bandage and smooth it over his skin. you run your fingers along the edges, pressing it down the make sure it’s secure. he’s sure that they linger on his skin for a moment longer than they have to, but he says nothing as you pull your hand back and rest it on your lap.

“how do you feel about me?” he whispers quietly into the cold air of the bathroom. it’s quite possibly the worst place he can imagine to have this conversation, and yet it seems the fit the atmosphere perfectly. somehow it feels so natural, talking about feelings whilst you patch up his injuries in the bathroom.

“i’ve fallen for you,” you bite the bullet, just coming straight out with it, “hook, line, and sinker, yun.”

it feels good to get it off your chest at long last. even if it doesn’t lead anywhere, or it makes things weird between the two of you. even if he begins to avoid you more, or just straight up moves out, it’s feels nice to have it out in the open. you’ve cast your net, it’s up to him whether or not he lets you catch him…

“oh,” is all he says at first, and you try not to think too much into that single syllable. you pick up the tube of antiseptic cream again and turn your attention to his eyebrow, “you like me?”

you nod as you put another globule on your finger and lean into him to get closer to the cut. you ignore the way he stares at you as you work, trying you hardest to avoid making eye contact. you already feel like your heart is about to beat itself free from your chest; you don’t need to worry it any more.

but then you feel a finger brush softly against your face, a scabbed up knuckle teasing your soft skin as it’s traces your cheekbone. a breath gets caught in your throat, and your finger stills against yunho’s brow bone. against your better judgement, you let yourself focus on his expression, making eye contact with the chocolate pools that never failed to draw you in. they’re beautiful, as always, but they reveal so much more than they usually do. the corners crinkle up into crows feet as his pupils twinkle with an emotion you’ve never really seen on his face before. it suits him… a lot.

“that’s a relief,” he breathes out, the semblance of a chuckle in his voice, “i’ve been calling you sweetheart in my brain since the moment we moved in together; it’ll be nice to be able to call you that to your face… sweetheart.”

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