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comfortscripts · 5 months

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The Way I Love You ¬ Coriolanus Snow

Plot - All you want is one night with Corio, the real him. Pairing - Young!Coriolanus Snow x Best Friend!Female!Reader Notes/Warnings - Corio is ooc in this, but the idea is that he is slightly hinged for her and he is aware of his redflags. Possessive? Mentions of deaths. Reader is lowkey just blind to Corio's darkness. First fic back so let's see how it goes! Word Count - 1,443

9pm

“You promised!”

“And when exactly did I promise this?”

He watched as her fists clenched the corners of her skirt, breath dripping with exasperation. Calmly watching from the comfort of his leather chair, nursing a glass of amber whilst his eyes followed the milky fabric adorning his best-friend’s figure. Almost 30 minutes of her attempting to convince him to leave his opaque penthouse.

“Last year, when you were too busy on my birthday, you promised me that I could choose whatever I wanted to do for one da-” Stilling her movements, frozen as realisation washed over her. “You sneaky fucker! Not once have you forgotten a promise between us.”

Corio wanted to laugh as her face scrunched with faux anger, but all he did was cock his eyebrow as a gentle smirk settled on his lips. “Of course, I didn’t forget. However, this little song and dance has been quite amusing.”

Resting his drink to the side, he rose to full height and reached his delicate hand out towards the girl. “I will agree, purely on the premise that nothing we do could harm either of our reputations.”

A smile brighter than freshly fallen snow crept onto her face.

“You have my word.”

1am

Corio may have noticed the ache in his legs if he didn’t have such a captivating distraction hanging from his bicep. After aimlessly strolling through the Capitol, the myriad of hues illuminating their faces as they spoke of the most mundane aspects of their adult lives to giggling at memories of their youth. Having known one another since the tender age of 10, there is little left unsaid between the pair. Perhaps only one thing.

“I’ve missed you Corio”

Shifting his head to where her figure was pressed against his side, their tandem steps slowed. Only those who understood the inner works of Coriolanus Snow could see the cogs turning behind those azure eyes. Flickering across her face, attempting to decode her words.

“Don’t be silly. We see each other constantly; your office is barely 20 steps from mine.”

The young woman bit back a sigh. In all the years she had known Snow, he excelled in many things but struggled with matters of the heart. “No, I see Coriolanus Snow constantly. Future President of Panem, prodigy Gamemaker. I can barely remember the last time I had a conversation with the real you, Corio, before tonight.”

Stilling completely, allowing her arm to slip from the loop of his. It was a rare occurrence for the young man to be devoid of words, only having ever been rendered speechless by the very same woman only a touch away. In all truthfulness, he yearned for her presence. He longed for the sound of her laughter, the way her eyes sparkled with delight when indulging in dessert, her uncanny ability to understand his thoughts, and most importantly, the way she allowed him to be himself.

He missed her too.

Perhaps it was his silence, or perhaps it was the cool air that unsettled her. Bubbles of anxiety began to rise in her stomach, fearing that she had overstepped or somehow offended the blond. “I only mean that you have sides to you. Whilst I like all of them, the one I care about most is the real you. I’m sorry, but I miss my best friend.”

“I barely know the real me anymore.”

It was truth. Being betrayed by Lucy Gray, the blood on his hands, the character he has had to play since; it was exhausting. The darkness swirling inside of him corrupting his daily thoughts, paranoia and greed clouding his mind. It was all too much to expose to her.

She embodied life, a breath of fresh air in a world torn apart by capitalism and violence. Coriolanus could never understand why she cared for him, why she befriended him. But he could never jeopardise losing her. The darker side of him wishes to lock her up in the Penthouse, so her sun only shines for him. Keep away the prying eyes of men who wish to glimpse the sweetness of her smile. But alas, he cannot. An innocent fragment of his soul forbids his darkness from tainting her, even if he must create distance to do so.

“After all that has happened, the Corio you know barely exists anymore.” Those stormy eyes refusing to meet her gaze by fixating on the gleaming silver ring adoring his finger. “If only you knew, you wouldn’t look at me the same.”

The warmth of her hand sliding into his captures his focus. “If only I knew about what happened during the games? If only I knew about Lucy Gray, and those people you killed? If only I knew how dark your soul feels? I know Corio.”

Snapping to meet her gaze, he feels as if she had knocked the air out of his lungs. How could she possibly know? Why would she be standing here with him? Was she going to hold this over him? A flurry of thoughts stormed behind his eyes, as she only tightened her hold on his large hand.

“Did you really think you could lie to me? I know you better than I know myself. When you came back from District 12, I could see behind those lies you were spewing. I saw the hurt she caused, the trauma you had witnessed, and how it broke the light inside of you.”

For the second time tonight, Coriolanus was speechless. Perhaps she didn’t know whose blood coats his hands, or the exact details of what happened those years ago, but she knew enough. And she was still standing there in front of him.

“And you still care about me?”

“I will always care about you Corio. Now come on, I want to take you somewhere!”

And with that, she pulled him further into the night.

2:45am

Neither of them had uttered a word since their conversation.

Laid side by side on the refreshing emerald blades of grass as they look towards the stars above, only their subtle breathing filling the air. Despite the silence, the interlocked fingers expressed a thousand words.

A hitched breath broke the still atmosphere of the hilltop.

“Do you love me?”

Her words stopped his heart mid-beat.

“What? Of course, I love you. You are my best friend.” His words flow smoothly, as his thoughts run erratically to concoct the perfect lie.

The grass shuffles as she turns her head to face him. “No, do you love me like I love you?”

Corio continues staring straight towards the constellations, knowing that her alluring eyes could weaken his resolve in mere seconds.

“Because the way I love you is more than someone who loves a best friend. Almost as if you are the only person who makes my heart dizzy with joy. If you don’t love me the same way, it’s okay. Just needed to finally tell you.”

The breeze acts as a ticking clock, emphasising the lack of response from the young man and amplifying the anxiety building in the woman as she faces the stars once more.

Its almost too quiet to be heard, a whisper in the wind, but she hears it clearly. “I do love you the way you love me.”

Turning in unison to face one another, his free hand reaching to caress the toasty skin of her cheek. Gentle strokes of his chilled fingers, drawing without destination on her skin as the blond builds the courage to speak once more.

“The way I love you terrifies me. You are the only one who brings me happiness, the only one who knows my sorrows, the only one I would sacrifice for. I obsess over you. I want to hold you and protect you. I wish to possess you. All because I love you the way you love me.”

Searching his irises for any fragment of dishonesty, her smile grows as she finds none. Inching closer to the man who has held her heart for a decade, his minty breath invading her senses.

With lips mere millimetres apart, a light whisper leaves her mouth “I’ll be yours Corio, for as long as you are mine. We can possess one another.”

As if those were the only words he ever craved, he intertwined his lips with hers. Soaking in the feeling of ecstasy as his hold on her tightens. She embraced the overwhelming sensation of complete bliss, revelling in every single second as her fingers interlock with his porcelain-locks.

Her lips fit with his so perfectly, it was clear that they were made to possess each other. And now that Panem’s king had his Queen, nothing could break him.

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #president snow x reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus snow imagine #the hunger games #tbosas #tom blyth x reader

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shomixremix · 1 month

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Hello! If it's okay, can I make a silly request? (I think they are open? I apologize if they aren't) may I request something fluffy with the immortal characters (which ever you write for) where their s/o is mortal but they've been together so long that their s/o is an old wrinkly person and the s/o gets mistaken for their grandparent? I just want some cute fluff, but everyone writes smut 😫

Eternal love ♡︎

hi anon!! yep, reqs are open!! i'm so sorry for not being here for some time, exam week was hell but i'm back now lovelies!!

idk rlly which immortal characters you meant but i hope it's okay that i chose these two!! and also i know that this is like fluff and all but for some reason this is so sad to me!! like yeah the reader is old and they are immortal but the reader is GONNA DIE AND OH MY GOD THEY'LL BE ALONEEEEEE AND GRIEVEINGGGG i don't deal well with thinking about death so this was a little challenging to write. but fun!! and hehe don't worry anon even though i write smut more i'm always here for fluff!!

hope you lovelies enjoy <3

tags: zhongli, neuvillette, fluff, slight angst, female!senior!reader

-> being in love with an immortal being had its' many perks, and yet, it had it's flaws. you only began to realize those flaws existed once you celebrated your 50th anniversary with your husband.

reqs open ♡︎

-> zhongli

"there you go, love. would you like to rest now? it is way past your usual nap time... you're sure you'd like to stay here?"

your husband asked, handsome face washed in worry for you. his appearance, ever so youthful and mighty, completely contrasted with your wrinkles and gray hair. but morax didn't mind the slightest - he still thought you were beautiful.

even though you were now hunched over, thick glasses sitting snuggly on the bridge of your nose and spent most od your times either asleep or knitting, he had loved you just the same as all those years ago. he looked at you now, at seventy, in that same way he did when you were his sweet, twenty-year-old fiancé. you were still you, no matter how old, and you were still the most heavenly person he has ever met.

"i'm sure, dear," you reassure, nodding softly, "i would like another cup of tea, please"

he hurriedly called the waiter of the lovely liyue café you were sitting at to bring you a cup more.

"could we get one more cup of this tea for my date?"

the waiter, seemingly very polite and kind, nodded.

"certainly, sir. and i have to comment, i think it's very lovely you're taking your grandma out for brunch! i don't get many people who respect their elders"

zhongli's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. respect his elders? when he was the one a aproximately a millenia older than you?

your husband looked to you, then back, clearing his throat. his voice slightly offended, he spoke: "this is my wife. we're celebrating our anniversary"

the way the waiter's face fell made you softly giggle, giving him a look full of empathy. you knew you appeared much older than zhongli and that people weren't used to it, with you looking like some kind of sugar mommy he married for the inheritance. people had no idea he was actually the older one, and how would they even be able to tell with the way his face hasn't aged a day?

"oh, ma'am, i'm so sorry, i cincerely apologise-"

"it's alright, sweetheart, i can see why you'd think i'm his granny!" you laughingly reassure. the waiter quickly runs to get you your tea, and zhongli turns to you.

"pft, you're not even that old, love. seventy-three is nothing." he scoffs, kissing your saggy cheek, "and no matter how old you are, i don't appreciate you calling another man sweetheart"

-> neuvillette

"are you alright? would you like to sit down, mon amour?" he asks, moving his feet inch by inch as he walked alongside you. even though this pace was almost torterous for him, he'd never dare go any faster. he'd walk alongside you, always, no matter if it meant he had to move at a snail's pace.

"i'm quite alright, my dear. but, could we have a break, just for a moment?"

his ocean-blue eyes frantically searched for a spot to rest, scanning a nearby bench. he set you down on it, wrapping a careful arm around your shoulder and let you rest.

you were so adorable, even now, with saggy skin and an obsession with cardigans. his beautiful, incredible wife, so gorgeous and full of life even though you were in your seventies.

those eyes of yours looked at him with just as much love and just as much wanting as they did a whole lifetime ago. when you first got married, he always had that thought in the back of his mind of a youth potion, always thinking that ot would feel weird if you would change with age and he would not.

but he was wrong. chief justice neuviellette was so, so wrong.

it wasn't weird at all - it was beautiful. your face and body, even though old and wrinkly, perfectly showed everything you two went through; your big smile lines, from a lifetime of chuckling with him, eyes so full of care from the few young ones you raised, hands veiny and rough from a lifetime of caressing his scales.

"would you like to feed the birds, mon cherie? remember, we brought the bread crumbs?"

you nodd softly, softly laying your gray head on your husbands chest.

"oh, yes, the birds! i almost forgot!"

as he gives you a little baggy filled with some leftover baguette breadcrumbs from your breakfast that morning, a couple of melusines swarmed around the two of you.

"mr. neuvillette! mr. neuvillette! we have never seen your grandma before!! hello, mrs. neuvillette's grandma, very nice to meet you!"

your husband softly chuckled, intertwining your fingers. he pressed a loving kiss to your hand, returning his gaze to the scattered melousines: "this is my wife, and i can asure you, you've met her many times before"

"oh, really? we can't remember.." one of the melousines replied, scratching her head.

"that's alright, neither does she" he whispers playfully, earning him a soft smack from you, "hey, i can still hear you, you know!"

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin fluff #zhongli #genshin zhongli #zhongli x reader #neuvillette #genshin neuvillette #neuvillete x reader #zhongli fluff #neuvillette fluff #fluff #female reader #old reader #request #anon request #requests open

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buckybabesonly · 1 year

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Mockingbird

Summary: Bucky tells you he doesn’t need you, except he can’t live without you.

Pairing: Bucky x Doctor!Female!reader

Genre: Slight angst

Warnings: I’m not a medical expert, mentions of character injury, Bucky self-wallowing

Word count: 2.8k

Knowing that Bucky was constantly amid danger was the bane of your existence. You could plead him to be careful, always remind him to take care of himself, but you knew your words could do little to protect him from harm.

He was a soldier first and would always do the right thing on the field, no matter how dangerous. He would attack those against him and protect those beside him, even if it meant that his safety was on the line.

It was one of the sources of your arguments, and you hated it.

In the beginning, you thought you would be able to take it. After all, he had been doing this long before he met you. When you first got together, he had made sure you knew exactly what you were getting into.

Your love for Bucky had been stronger than anything, and you knew you had to at least try, no matter how unconventional the relationship.

So, over a year later, even though you couldn’t have frequent dates like a ‘normal’ couple, and sometimes Bucky crawled into your bed looking bruised and battered, and you had found yourself in the crosshairs of Bucky’s enemies one too many times, you thought you had finally found happiness.

Bucky worried about you too. Being his girlfriend meant that he had a weakness to be exploited, and the fear grew over time after the first attack on your life just four months into your relationship. It had been a close call, but after that incident you moved into the Tower which had much safer security measures than your downtown apartment. It was probably more convenient to live literally where you worked, anyway.

The unexpected turning point, however, was seeing Bucky being wheeled into the medical wing on a gurney, unconscious with blood painting every exposed inch of his face. You were paralysed with fear, unable to even speak as you were ushered out of the room, dressed in your scrubs but far too incapable of being the one to tend to him.

He had made a full recovery, but this did little to ease your anxiety. A week after he’d been discharged, your fights began again.

“We’ve had this conversation before,” Bucky said tersely, doing little to hide his frustration as you paced your room.

“And we’re having it again,” you said through gritted teeth. “Bucky, do you know how scared I was when I saw you? I literally couldn’t move – Steve had to basically carry me out of there. That’s never happened to me before. I couldn’t speak, couldn’t think – I froze.”

Bucky’s face softened, knowing how terrified you were.

“That can’t happen again,” you continued, anger bubbling in your voice.

“What do you mean?” He dragged a hand across his face, looking exhausted.

“You almost died, Bucky.”

He scoffed. “They’ll have to try a lot harder to get rid of me.”

“Stop it!” You exclaimed loudly, turning on him, livid. “I know you always joke about things like that, but it’s not funny.”

“What do you want me to do?” It was a genuine question, and you were hyperaware of how tired Bucky looked in this moment. You felt guilty for adding to his existing stress, but you weren’t sure how you were going to cope anymore.

“Can you just – I don’t know, take a break?” You knew the words coming out of your mouth were silly, but you just wanted Bucky to stop. Stop getting hurt, stop getting injured, stop risking his life and risk taking himself away from you permanently.

“This is all I know,” Bucky said firmly. “You know that this is what I have to do.”

“Do you? Do you have to do it?” You challenged. Vaguely, in the back of your mind, you knew you were being unfair but your stubbornness meant you had to stick to your guns.

“What do you expect? You want me to take a part-time job in a grocery store, instead?”

You didn’t take kindly to his snarky tone, bristling.

“I’m expecting you to take this relationship seriously.”

“What part of me doing my job means I don’t take this relationship seriously?” He shot back, looking irate.

“You’re supposed to take my needs into consideration, too. Nowadays, every time you leave, I think it might be the last time I see you.” Your voice cracked on the final word, and Bucky could see you crumbling as your eyes stung.

He quickly approached you, pulling you into a comforting hug as you sobbed into his chest. He was the only person you allowed yourself to be vulnerable with, and he had seen you cry more often than he’d like to.

“Hey, hey, don’t cry. You’re breaking my heart,” he murmured, pressing his lips into your hair.

“I don’t want to lose you,” you said, knowing he didn’t quite understand the extent of your fear, try as he may.

The argument ended with kisses melting into your skin and reassuring words in your ear, and you allowed him to comfort you, though you knew it was only temporary.

Anger was blinding Bucky’s better judgement.

It was Sam’s turn to be wheeled into the medical wing, but this time, it didn’t look like he would be as lucky. He was still human, after all, and it looked like HYDRA had managed to do a number on the Falcon.

Sam had to undergo emergency surgery as Bucky stalked up and down the waiting room. He was muttering under his breath, Sam’s blood still slick on his hands.

You rushed to the medical wing as soon as you heard, knowing that Sam was in the safe hands of your colleagues and that your boyfriend needed you. However, he barely acknowledged your presence when you burst through the doors, panic written on your face.

Bucky was torturing himself mentally. Replaying the events a couple of hours ago over and over in his head, watching as Sam crashed onto the concrete ground, wings smashed into smithereens and his body unresponsive, as the assailants got away. They hadn’t been outnumbered, but were taken by surprise at HYDRA’s unusually advanced tech. They had equipment that Bucky and Sam had not been prepared for and, unfortunately, struggled to combat.

Bucky had managed to get out unscathed bar a few scratches and bruises, but Sam was in much worse shape. Perhaps the worst Bucky had ever seen him.

He hated himself.

They were partners, and he had failed him.

“Bucky, are you alright?” You had been repeating that same question over and over again, but Bucky barely seemed to hear you. “I’ve looked at the team’s initial assessment - Sam should be okay.”

Okay? How could anything be fucking okay when HYDRA was still a threat to Bucky, to you, to everyone that he cared about? He was seething with anger, feeling hopelessness and rage consume him.

“I need to get out of here,” he grunted finally, shrugging you off and walking towards the doors. You recognised this response - he was shutting down, shutting you out, wanting to internalise his rage.

You gaped at him, pulling on his arm. “You’re not going anywhere. Can you please talk to me?” You knew what had happened had shaken him up, and you were determined not to let him wallow by himself.

“I know where their nest is,” Bucky spat, speaking to himself more than to you. “I can get them.”

You stared at him, shaking your head in disbelief. “Are you serious? You can’t go in there by yourself.”

“Sam got hurt because we were too fucking scared to go straight for the target,” Bucky practically snarled. “We thought we could play a strategy, work bottom up. But fuck that, they almost killed us out there, and I’m fucking done.”

“You’re being ridiculous,” you said harshly, knowing that Bucky wasn’t thinking straight. “You’re going to go in there, guns blazing and get outnumbered and beat? Again?”

“I can get the backup,” Bucky grunted.

“You’re putting yourself and everyone else’s lives in danger,” you said sternly. “Stop it and use your brain for one second, James.” You were secretly terrified, knowing that nothing could stop Bucky once he had his mind set on something. What would you do if he went in there alone and unprepared? What would you do if he got injured like Sam?

Bucky glared at you, and you almost recoiled at the sight, but stood your ground. “You know I’m right. You are being stupid and reckless.” You kept your voice steady, staring him down.

He marched up to you, pointing to the room where Sam was currently being operated in. You flinched at how furiously his boots pounded against the ground.

“Sam could die because of me.”

“It’s not your fault,” you said, exasperated. “You need a plan of attack. I know you’re angry right now, but you need to be calm.”

You watched as he turned away from you and suddenly lashed out, punching a sizeable dent in the wall, making you jump.

“You don’t know shit.”

You grimaced, hating the way he was speaking to you.

“Don’t talk to me like that,” you said, a small scowl on your lips. “I’m scared, Bucky. I won’t have you going out there, especially not in this state of mind. You’re not thinking straight.”

“I can’t just sit here doing nothing knowing full well where they are,” Bucky said, jaw clenching. He was feeling so frustrated and didn’t know why you couldn’t seem to understand.

“I know you’re angry,” you repeated, making Bucky’s jaw tick, “but you’re thinking blindly, and you need me to make you see sense.”

“I don’t need you for anything,” he said sharply.

His back was still turned to you, but you could see how his shoulders immediately sagged out of their defensive position once the words left his mouth. You audibly gasped, taking a step back and swallowing hard. Your lower lip quivered uncontrollably.

The constricting in your heart was awfully painful as you absorbed his words, ringing loud and clear.

I don’t need you.

His words made one of your biggest insecurities become something fully tangible. The deep-rooted belief that, at the end of the day, Bucky didn't really have any use for someone like you.

Cursing, he turned back round to look at you properly, his face full of guilt at your crestfallen expression.

“I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry.”

You didn’t say anything at first, inhaling shakily. Trying to catch your breath.

“It’s fine,” you said quietly, unable to hide the tears in your eyes. He took a step forward but you walked backwards again, rapidly until your back thudded against the doors.

"I shouldn't have said that -" he began, hating the way he could see the way your nails were digging hard into your fleshy palms, the way you did whenever you felt upset. Your mouth was trembling and he knew you were trying so hard not to cry

“I’m going to go,” you said quietly, turning to make your hasty exit and ignoring his pleas for you to stay.

You said quietly in your room, mulling to yourself carefully about what had happened. You had locked yourself away as soon as you had assurance from your fellow doctors that Sam’s surgery had been a success.

Bucky’s words swam in your mind. You knew they were borne from anger, but they had to have some truth in it.

He didn’t need you, not really. What could you give him that someone else couldn’t? What’s more, you were just an ordinary human. Weak, expendable.

You felt a cold chill creep through your chest as you continued to let the thoughts swirl.

You didn’t want to make the mistake of believing that you were more important to him than you actually were.

You pulled your knees to your chest, sat on the ground at the foot of your bed. You hugged them tight as if they could provide you some comfort, letting your tears soak into the fabric of your jeans.

Bucky never had a bad word to say against you. He was always the first person to battle away your self-doubts, your self-loathing, your insecurities. You wondered if he had always secretly believed that he didn't truly need you.

It was insane how much words could hurt.

A gentle tapping at your door made you jump, and you knew instantly it was him. His voice followed shortly after, a gentle plead.

“Can you open the door?”

His voice was apologetic, and it just made you want to cry harder. You heard him sigh when you didn’t respond.

“I’m really sorry, sweetheart. I really didn’t mean it. I was just being a jerk.”

You forced yourself to stand up and padded over to the door, knowing that he could hear your movements. You took a deep breath and opened it, met by the sight of his handsome, guilt-ridden face.

“It’s okay,” you said curtly, shrugging. “You said what you said. And I think, to some extent, you meant it.”

He scanned your tear streaked face, knowing how hard you were trying to keep your expression cool and face emotionless.

Bucky’s face became anguished, frowning and shaking his head vehemently. He stepped forward, taking your hands in his, though yours remained limp in his large palms.

“I didn’t,” he said firmly. “Of course I didn’t mean it.”

Bucky knew he couldn’t just take his words back and pretend they never happened, and he despised that he had hurt you.

His emotions were complex, his anger raw and all-consuming. He had been so caught up in his thoughts, he lashed out at your mere suggestion of reigning them in. He didn’t need to be placated – or so he thought – he just wanted to ride out that anger and hurt those people who posed a threat to everyone he cared about.

How could he make you think that he didn’t need you? Of course he needed you – you were his motivation for everything in life. You were his reason that he wanted to be better.

He should have listened to you when you tried to reason with him. He lost control of his feelings, and he was ashamed.

Bucky hugged you suddenly, circling his arms around you. He breathed in your scent, closing his eyes as you stood with your arms by your sides, unsure of what to do.

“I’m so sorry,” he breathed again, his words like silk in your ear. “Today has been kind of a shitty day. With HYDRA showing their faces again, and Sam getting hurt, and knowing that you could be in danger…it made me feel like I had to get out there and shut down any possibility of something happening to you. And I felt that I needed to do that alone, to be the one to eliminate the threat.”

You bit down on your lower lip, tears welling in your eyes again. You could feel the love radiating from Bucky as he held you, and it helped soothe the ache in your heart.

“When you tried to calm me down, I know you meant well, doll, I’m so sorry. But there was a voice in my head telling me that I have to do everything in my power to keep you safe, and when you told me not to do anything, I snapped.” His confession was wrought with honesty, and you softened your stance, raising your arms up to wrap around him, too.

“I know it doesn’t make sense,” he mumbled, sounding embarrassed now.

“It’s okay,” you whispered, tilting your head back to look at him. “I know you just want to protect me.”

“Believe me,” he said sternly, eyes locked with yours, “that I need you. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“Really?”

“Really,” he nodded. “I may be a fucking super soldier with a dumb metal arm and fight off bad guys, but I need you to remind me that I’m much more than just that.” He studied your face long and hard, making sure that you really understood him. Finally, he leaned down to kiss your lips. “Forgive me?”

“Mmm,” you murmured, unable to concentrate now as he deepened the kiss, pulling you closer against his body, his solid chest.

“Is that a yes?”

“It’s a maybe. I might need a little more convincing,” you muttered, pulling him into your room and closing the door behind him.

The door stayed shut for the rest of the evening.

#bucky angst #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky fanfic #marvel fanfics #marvel oneshot #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky oneshot #bucky x female reader

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the-guilty-writer · 11 months

Text

So Much

Request from anon: Hi if your comfortable with it do you think you could do like goth teen reader who scared to come out as gay to her father or the group. Who their father is doesn't really matter. I can barely find fics like this, and if your not comfortable with the topic that's completely fine. Thanks

Aaron Hotchner x teen!reader

Summary: reader comes out to their dad as gay and his reaction is not what they expected.

A/N: *extreme sarcasm* Gill writes a character differently than expected… no way?! In all seriousness though, my approach to Hotch’s reaction might be controversial, but I wanted to capture how I think he expresses love. There is a happy ending of course <3 and Happy Pride everybody. Everyone is welcome here and I care for every single one of you.

This is a request, but is a contribution to the PRIDE CHALLENGE

CW: Haley is reader’s mom and she is in here a fair amount but no mention of reader’s appearance, lots of up and down emotions, Hotch’s reaction could bring up feelings about the sad reality of the safety of the world for the LGBTQ+ community

---

You looked yourself up and down in the mirror, trying your best to look casual. You forced your wringing hands to your sides, though they still trembled. A large exhale released some of the shoulder tension, but not enough. Any tell in your body language would be easily caught onto by your dad; Aaron Hotchner wasn't the BAU Unit Chief for nothing.

For weeks now, you’d been rehearsing the composition of your posture in front of a mirror while thinking about the words you were going to say. You had the speech perfected when you were staring at your bedroom ceiling in the dark alone. When you practiced it out-loud, you stumbled over a word or two, which was better than it had been at the beginning; your jaw would lock up in anxiety, unable to get out any words at all.

The first time they slipped past your lips, just for you, it had felt like freedom - in an empty school bathroom you looked yourself in the eyes.

“I’m gay.”

And just like that, the weight of the world had been lifted off your shoulders.

“I’m gay,” you had repeated to yourself, and that time it made you smile.

The time after that, it made you laugh. You said it until you were practically dancing alone in the space, feeling so light, so free after so long hiding who you were, even to yourself.

Coming out to someone for the first time wasn’t even on your mind when your best friend walked into the bathroom to find you. You’d been so high on joy that there was nothing stopping you from telling them, and having them join in on your dance. You considered yourself lucky that the first time happened on accident. There was no room to hide from at least one person in your life. You were met with their support and it seemed like it would have been easy to tell the other important people in your life.

It hadn’t been.

You weren’t sure why— you’d grown up in an open-minded, loving family. Not once had a seed of doubt been planted in your head that they would reject you, but there was always the dreaded what if? that crossed your mind. The infinitely small chance that it wouldn’t be okay to them held you back.

It felt silly - almost stupid - how many weeks it had taken to look at the photo of your mother that sat on your nightstand and whisper to her in a trembling voice, “Mom, I’m gay.”

She had been dead for years. There was no risk of disapproval, being looked at differently, even of her ever loving you less. But it was the first time coming out to someone felt like it mattered.

All you could do was hold the frame to your chest and cry silently in the dark, imagining that she was there to wrap you in her arms, hearing her sweet voice speak the last words she ever told you: “I love you so much.”

That was the silent promise you held onto as you padded silently past your brother’s room and to the living room. You settled your hand on the outside of your pants pocket where you had been carrying around a small picture of her for weeks now. I love you so much.

“Hey, Jack’s in bed and you don’t have school tomorrow, so I was thinking we could stay up late and watch a new movie.” Your dad came into the living room, dressed in a casual tee shirt and shorts, just like it was any other day. It wasn’t just any other day.

“Yeah, sounds good.” You swallowed down bile.

“You want popcorn?” he asked.

Part of you wanted to explode - to forego the monologue you’d been planning for weeks now. How could Hotch not see the stiffness to your posture and worry in your eyes? Could the man who profiled people for a living truly not see how his own child wasn’t acting normal? But all you could manage was a “Sure,” and he left for the kitchen.

The anger dissipated when he left, and you found yourself sitting on the couch, fumbling with the remote in shaking hands. You scrolled through the titles, landing on the one you wanted and sat. Never had you felt so stiff in your own home.

Your dad walked in with a bowl of popcorn in one hand and two cans of soda in the other. He handed one to you and you took it, murmuring a thanks under your breath. That’s when he paused.

“Are you okay?” He sat down next to you and put the bowl of popcorn on the coffee table.

In a sudden rush of anxiety, you grabbed it and wedged it into the small space between your leg and his, where it always was during movie nights so both of you could reach. Except now, you felt the need to have a physical barrier between the two of you. Maybe you felt the salty snack could soften the blow of what you were about to tell him, or maybe you just needed to feel that normalcy in case it changed everything.

“I’m uh-” the well scripted, even more well rehearsed words were nowhere to be found inside your head. You sighed. “Dad, I want to uh… tell you something.”

“What is it?” He was looking at you concerned. Still, Aaron Hotchner’s “look of concern” was ever intense. You thought about your mom’s gentle eyes, her soothing voice...

I love you so much.

“I’m gay.”

A beat of silence.

Numb anxiety caused you to turn to face your father, but you couldn’t read his expression, not with the surge of fear that had taken over your brain.

That moment seemed to last forever - you, staring at him, searching the line of his brow or the curve of his mouth for any reaction. Him, staring back at you…

“Are you okay?” he asked.

You blinked, taking a second to comprehend his words, working through the tension. “Uh, yes?”

“Has anyone tried to hurt you?” Your dad’s eyes shifted to gaze down your arms to your knuckles.

“What- no! Of course not.” You shifted in your seat and Hotch’s eyes came back to your face. “Dad, didn’t you hear what I just told you?”

“Yes,” he said. “I need to know that nobody has hurt you.” He paused. “The world isn’t always nice to people who don’t fit their ideals. You have to promise that you’ll call me if you ever feel like you’re in danger.”

And that was that - your father’s version of I love you so much:

I would die before I ever let someone hurt you simply for being you.

“I promise, dad,” you said, holding back tears, though a few must have slipped down your cheeks because he raised a gentle hand to wipe them away. “So you don’t- you aren’t-”

He shook his head. “I care that you’re happy, and that you’re safe.”

“I’m happy, dad,” you said, a genuine smile tugging at your lips. “And I’m safe.”

He wrapped a gentle arm around your shoulder and pulled you into a hug; the place you would always feel and be the most secure in the world.

“I love you,” you told him quietly.

“I love you too,” he whispered. “So much.”

#criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x daughter!reader #aaron hotchner x child!reader #hotch x daughter!reader #hotch x child!reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds x platonic!reader #criminal minds x teen!reader #criminal minds x daughter!reader #criminal minds x child!reader

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frenchonionsoop · 2 months

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How did Oda leave such a strong impression on Dazai?

OOHH ok i have a lot of thoughts on this topic so bear with me, this is gonna be a long one My interpretation is the first thing Dazai latched onto about Oda was his honesty.

Oda is a very straightforward person, he rarely ever if at all has an ulterior motive and it totally blindsides Dazai. He can't manipulate Oda because he'll take what he says too literally, he can't predict him - not because Oda is good at hiding his thoughts, he just naturally has the most unreadable resting poker face imaginable - and no matter what he does nothing seems to phase Oda (keyword "seems", it often does he just doesn't show it) , and it intrigues Dazai.

As seen with Chuuya we know Dazai gets hooked on people who surprise and/or impress him, so I can absolutely understand how he saw the enigma that is Oda and said "you're my friend now we're having soft tacos later <3".

I could go on for hours about the various times Oda has bamboozled Dazai and how each effected him profoundly in so many different ways, but that's a discussion for another time. I don't think just these factors would realistically warrant Dazai's drastic change in world outlook and spur on his sudden redemption arc, so what did?

I believe it was his complete lack of judgement. Despite Dazai's constant suicide attempts and harsh view of the world not once did Oda outwardly judge him for it, which is in some ways a blessing and in some ways a curse. Oda never viewed himself as qualified enough to call Dazai out, which in hindsight might've done harm as there were times were Dazai needed someone to call him out, but unbeknownst to Oda that lack of judgement gave Dazai room to breathe.

He saw right past the silly facade and the darker side to Dazai, he saw a "sobbing child abandoned in the darkness of a world far emptier than the one we're seeing", and he saw a friend.

And this is exactly why Oda's last words hit Dazai so hard. Odasaku, who never speaks up for himself, Odasaku, who's so genuine he'd believe a murderer if they simply said "I didn't do it", Odasaku, who is now telling Dazai life might just be little better if he decides to help rather than hurt.

Bleeding out on the floor of a mansion, in a desperate attempt to make up for all the times he didn't confront Dazai Oda has to find some way to get through to him and fast. His harsh words to Dazai on how he'll never find that happiness he so desperately craves are so jarring they snap him out of his panic, suddenly he's blindsided all over again, and that vulnerable state gives Oda's next words the chance to reach deeper - "be on the side that saves people."

In order to truly get through to him, Oda needed to level with Dazai, the only way to do that in such little time was to repeat back to him his own internal mantra of "never filling that hole that is his loneliness". It's clear his words are false, especially the line "nothing beyond your own expectations will happen" as Dazai's entire speech to Fyodor in the prison is about his belief in the unpredictable nature of human beings.

But regardless, that slap in the face of hearing his own self-destructive thoughts voiced aloud after going his entire life without ever considering anybody else could understand them heightened Dazai's faith in Oda's promise of a life that's "a bit more wonderful."

What makes me adore Oda and Dazai's friendship so much is how grounded and natural it feels. Oda isn't some perfect saviour who always knows exactly what to say, far from it, he was a 23 year old PM grunt with 5 kids and a love for spicy curry, but that's all he needed to be.

Sorry this is so ramble-y and long winded if you couldn't tell already Oda's my favourite character so I have a lot to say about him 😭 Thank you so much for the ask!!!

#there are a thousand other points id love to make here but i didnt want it getting any longer than it already is lmao #bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd analysis #bsd dazai #bsd odasaku #the dark era #dazai osamu #oda sakunosuke #ask

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yuri-is-online · 1 year

Text

And Your Name Is? (Jade, Leona, Riddle)

Synopsis- After successfully resolving whatever was causing NRC to be trapped in an endless time loop of overblotting and disaster, one last reset should give him a chance to experience a normal school year with you. But instead you find yourself trapped in the here and there, appearing as a vague shadow around the school that vanishes as soon as he catches up to you. The kind thing to do would be to allow you to be forgotten in the chance it lets you return to your world.

But this is Twisted Wonderland where the kind thing is seldom done, and he wants you back as much as you want to find him again.

a/n: Look, I don't know who decided to make MICKY MOUSE a sadman deadwife in Disney's attempt at animal crossing but it gave me ideas. This is shamelessly based off that questline, feel free to request other characters. Everyone deserves a chance at angst. This probably won't be the last time I'll write something with this sort of premise meh

notes: angst with the intent of comfort, Jade is a red flag. Otherwise mild.

Jade Leech

It’s a wonder you ever lived here. Ramshackle is cold, Jade can’t bring himself to say lifeless for fear of speaking a crueler fate into existence, but the word’s on the tip of his tongue nonetheless. It’s a pity this is where you call “home,” but he can work with this. He can sweep up the cobwebs, dust every broken surface before popping the timbers back into place, figure out how to repair the upholstery so long as he sees the shimmery light that forms your shape begin to fill in. He knows if he reaches for you that you will disappear, so he lets you observe as he keeps you in the corner of his eye. Jade is careful, methodical, even as his hands shake as he launders your sheets and fluffs pillows on a bed he really wants to burn for its audacity to be so uncomfortable. He vaguely recalls requesting you make one room of this place into a giant terrarium once, a silly request he’s sure he’d make again if he could just speak to you, for no other reason than to hear you laugh. But, he supposes as he slips himself into your bed reaching out towards the in between as if he can pull you from the here and there with the sheer force of his longing; he is already sort of doing that. Just like the Sea Witch keeping creatures in glass bottles he’s trying to replicate the perfect environment for you.

“Jade?”

“I’m here.” he murmurs, not daring to open his eyes just yet, instead reaching for where he thinks your face should be. “Do you hear me? It’s past your bedtime, prefect.”

“Jade.”

“It’s awfully lonely here.” He hates the way he sounds. It’s too raw, too clear with his intent to be the tease he wants it to be. “Won’t you come to bed?”

“Jade!” His eyes open, his hand lands on you, the real you, not a shade made up of his memory, he manages to crush the urge to cry and pulls you up into his embrace. Your eyes are unfocused, confused but moving towards his touch as if you were searching for it. “W-who.. I have to find…” You move, on instinct towards his heartbeat, as he slowly strokes your arms to soothe your shaking. “Jade… I’m looking for-”

“You found me.” Jade is gentle, careful as he searches over you for any sign of distress or injury, sighing in relief when he only finds confusion. It doesn’t matter if you don’t remember specifics. It doesn’t matter to him if you’ve forgotten your own name, Jade’s known and loved you for three timelines now, he’ll remind you of who you are if that’s what you want. In the meantime, he slowly encloses you in the safety of his embrace and tries not to smile too wide as you naturally relax into him. He will build you a beautiful garden in this world, and nothing will ever harm you this badly ever again, he swears it.

Leona Kingscholar

How many times has he been forced to watch you die? He’s not sure, his memory clearly doesn’t want to cooperate with him out of fear he’ll consider the failures a waste of energy, consider you wasted energy. Give in to the self-sabotaging part of him that never wanted to love you in the first place and abandon you to your fate, and yet no matter how many times he held your limp form in his arms he never had. There was something mildly addicting in the realization that you chose him in every lifetime. Not that stupid lizard or stuck up diva, him the second born, grumpy, lazy lion.

“Leona?” Your shade has always been able to speak, and Leona’s always been able to hear it. It’s like you’re trying to retrace your steps through time, starting with your meeting in the botanical gardens up to your stay in his room. He tries to tell himself you’re like a flea burrowing its way into his skin, irritating in your presence, unwelcome. He tries to tell himself if you didn’t mean enough to this world to keep a corporeal form that you shouldn’t mean anything to him. If Twisted Wonderland rejected you then so should he.

“Leona.” He hates how alone you sound. He hates how he can see you around the gardens but can’t hear footsteps, see you sitting on the edge of the balcony but not smell you. He really wants to hate you.

“I have to… promised… Leona…”

“I’m here you know.” he mutters, half asleep under the heavy curtain of vines in the botanical gardens. “You wanna keep your promise? Then quit runnin away.” Silence. Always silence, even in his dreams no matter how hard he tries to will you back into existence. He wants to stare you down, he really does, but how is he supposed to be anything but shocked when it's really you in front of him, listless and confused.

“Leona?” You’re confused, that much is clear. He wonders, smugly as he rises without complaint for once, if his name is the only thing you remember. The flicker of fear in your eyes is something he can do without, but if you know his name then somewhere inside that empty head of yours should be the same memories that have been plaguing him.

“I hope you’re prepared.” his tail swishes in excitement, and though you remain confused he delights in how you remain unafraid. “For just what you signed up for by callin my name.”

Riddle Rosehearts

Your shadow likes to sit in the Heartslabyul rose garden. Riddle is thankful for that, his gaze is hard to avoid here. He can keep an eye on you this way while he tries to find a solution for… whatever this is. It’s sickening, really, how useless he is without a rulebook or a study guide to follow. His memories of the past time loops might be blurry but he wonders if you ever felt frustrated with him in any of them. Someone as beautiful and wonderful as you constantly choosing someone as boring as him, he wants to be proud. He wants to point out that he is clearly in the right, in some sort of way, he has to be if he was loved in any way by you. It hurts him all the more to be so useless to you, to find so little concrete about the here and there and be told by every adult he reaches out to that the only thing they know is that no one who goes there ever comes back.

His dormmates like to keep a degree of distance from you. Riddle knows that they don’t know it’s you, he’s tried to explain to them multiple times and seen as they fight hard against whatever magic is trying to erase you from Twisted Wonderland to remember clearly who you were. It’s especially hard to watch Ace and Deuce loop through their worry over you and their anger at having forgotten only to get lost in the fog once again. He had to stop himself from trying, causing your best friends pain wouldn’t bring you back to them, to him. Riddle’s stubborn, he can take the confused looks of his house when he insists they let him have a private tea party with the strange ghost that’s taken up residence in their maze.

“I’m uncertain if our professors remember what happened, but I can say with certainty some of the material has changed. It’s a relief that the quality of our education hasn’t regressed.” He pours you a cup of tea, working off of muscle memory he can’t recall the context for anymore to make it in a way you must have liked. “I’ve been taking detailed notes on what my freshmen have been learning, when you return-” his voice cracks in panic as your shadow’s outline flickers “when you return…” he tries, softer this time focusing on gently setting down the tea pot “I’ll make sure you aren’t left behind. Ace and Deuce will keep their memories this time and we’ll all get to hang out together again, you’ll always have- you always have had a place in Heartslabyul, so please, please come back.” Riddle likes to think of himself as an adult, but he pouts and cries so easily. He can feel the tears bubbling up and obscuring his vision. Hiding the view of your shadow’s shape filling in.

“Riddle?” He hiccups, undignified, unbelieving the sight he’s seeing. You look so small, so confused but still so concerned for him, pausing to reach for a napkin to wipe his tears despite how unfocused you otherwise seem to be. You reach for him, shaky but still determined. “Are you Riddle?” you whisper. “I’ve been searching for him, I promised not to let go of his hand.” Riddle reaches for your hand with both of his, leaning into you. “I’m worried he’s lonely.”

“I was.” He isn’t crying anymore, Riddle likes to think he never will again as he presses a kiss into your palm. “You can rest now prefect, you’ve made it home.”

#twisted wonderland x reader #leona kingsholar x reader #leona kingscholar #riddle rosehearts #riddle rosehearts x reader #jade leech x reader #jade leech

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kakushino · 7 months

Text

The Fanboy

Tumblr writer fanboy! Tomioka Giyuu x isekai! fem! Reader

He was not ready.

Tags: fluff, Giyuu being a silly fanboy, suggestive (1 filth mention), minor KNY spoilers from manga, isekai Word count: 1,1k

Masterlist

AN: The blog mentioned is purely fictional. Reader is Giyuu's blorbo uwu

Giyuu was used to being disliked by his coworkers. He kept to himself and didn’t attend any of the group events, the only one who liked him was the janitor, Urokodaki-san. Urokodaki Sakonji and Giyuu shared many lunches together, in silence or talking - it didn’t matter.

It was thanks to those lunches that Giyuu found out their shared passion - Kimetsu no Yaiba manga. The mangaka was a mystery, working under an alias, and the series was nearly finished, the infinity castle arc coming to an end. He was excited to read the last volume - an extra long one - which was rumored to feature his favorite character, [Name].

Oh [Name]... he’d been treated with an entire volume about her background and daily duties as a kakushi before the last arc, though she’d appeared in glimpses throughout the series. He had an embarrassing memory of spilling his admiration to Urokodaki-san at one time - years ago - but it was fate, for the volume about her came out three months afterwards.

It was also fate that he discovered tumblr not long after. He’d been scrolling through [Name]’s wiki page when something caught his eye - a trivia about her that he hadn’t noticed. Of course he had to try to find the truth on the deep dark web. Instead, he found a treasure trove full of fanfictions of characters from Kimetsu no Yaiba being shipped with readers.

Giyuu devoured the total number of three fanfictions about [Name] that evening. Only three… because there weren’t any more. It wasn’t right… She should have been appreciated more. Sure, she was not a fighter, but she was a part of crucial infrastructure, often taking on unpleasant roles to support the protagonists of the series - the demon slayers. Perhaps it reminded him of himself and Urokodaki, but the fact stood he absolutely adored [Name], and she deserved more love.

So he would give her that love.

That was two years ago.

Now, he had a blog of his own, blue-depresso, which he centered around his fav - he had posted various moodboards and headcanons he had about her at the start, but soon moved onto writing ‘x reader’ fanfictions of his own. It was a challenge to put his hidden artistic bone to work, but it was worth it. At times, Giyuu felt like a cult leader, his following quickly growing once he started to post those fanfics.

The few filthy fics he posted had him going long into the night, thinking how [Name] would feel under his hands, how he would take care of all her needs, and fuck her senseless.

Giyuu kept the blog and his dirty thoughts far away from Urokodaki-san.

He didn’t want the old man to know just how much of a loser he was.

The last volume came out on one (un)remarkable Friday. Giyuu had pre-ordered it, making him excited to rush to the designated pick-up manga store.

The end of the school day could not come soon enough. He raced through his duties, the usual neat stacks of sport equipment haphazard piles when he locked the equipment room; his rush made him leave the school before Kyojuro, who was usually one of the first teachers to leave due to Friday sales at his favorite bakery. The blonde sent him a bewildered look as Giyuu passed him at the gates.

Once home, he put the sacred item (the manga) on the table gently before he yanked his tracksuit off, quickly getting into shower. He wanted to get comfortable before he read it.

Less than ten minutes later, he was ready.

…he wasn’t ready.

But he needed to read it! He had to know what would happen to his [Name]! (And to the protagonists as well-)

Okay, okay, no. Giyuu took a deep breath and opened the book.

He had to put it down halfway through. His dearest [Name]... died. She’d driven a car at the main antagonist to stop him from moving, and she died in the line of duty. Her death was honorable, and she would have wanted that.

Why did he feel so empty then?

Before he knew it, he’d opened the tumblr app on his phone and started typing.

blue-depresso She isn’t dead. She is not dead. #kny spoilers #kny spoiler #[Name] #what the fuck is this @ G.K.????

blue-depresso This just did not happen. I refuse to accept this. #kny spoilers #kny spoiler #[Name] #dying rn #[Name] is alive

blue-depresso Someone give me G.K.’s location rq because I’m ready to fight #kny spoilers #kny spoiler #[Name] #fight me G.K.

blue-depresso Okay but maybe it wasn’t her in the car. Hear me out, maybe she jumped out before the car got destroyed??? #kny spoilers #kny spoiler #[Name] #[Name] is alive

blue-depresso What is even the point of living on if she isn’t alive? What is the point??? #kny spoilers #kny spoiler #[Name] #im crying #send help

blue-depresso Okay but in my heart, she lives on. You bet your asses I will write that [Name] lives AU once I’m done devouring this volume #kny spoilers #kny spoiler #[Name] #I won’t abandon my girl in her time of need #she’s my wife #she will live

blue-depresso I’m okay (I’m not). I need to finish this manga. #kny spoilers #kny spoiler #[Name] #ran out of tissues #i need a drink

Wiping the one tear that left his eye - the tissue tag an exaggeration of the truth, though his throat did get clogged up - he got to reading the rest of the story.

It felt like he was afloat. What was he gonna do with himself now? His mind wandered to the singular bottle of beer in the fridge his sister gave him - some fancy brand he couldn’t care less about, as he wasn’t a drinker. His body acted before his brain caught up and he drank it, the bitterness a companion to the one in his heart.

He would write that ‘[Name] lives AU’ tomorrow. Today, he had to bury himself in comfort. There was a fluffy blanket he received from his sister last birthday. Perhaps he should give her a call. It wasn’t that late yet.

In the end he’d fallen asleep on his futon, the blankets under him and his phone laying next to his face. His face flushed, realizing his sister must have talked him to sleep. He would have to make it up to her later.

Giyuu rolled over on his other side to check the time on his clock hanging on the wall, but came face-to-face with a woman instead.

What the fu-

He scrambled back, trying to create distance from this stranger. Who was it? What was she doing in his flat? What was-?!

Hold on a moment…

His mind ran circles, trying to rationalize what he was seeing. I couldn’t be, could it? But how? This had to be a prank…

The woman stirred, kakushi mask shifting a little. Then, her eyes opened, and it was confirmed.

It was [Name].

dividers made by the amazing @benkeibear

AN: Will this be an one-shot series? IDK but it was fun to write hehe

#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #tomioka giyuu #giyuu x reader #giyuu x you #giyuu x y/n #kny fanfic #kny x reader #kakushino

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munsonownsmyass · 3 months

Text

Movie night

Zach Wellison x reader

Warnings: none, really. Just some fluff and some pining idiots.

Notes: This is my first time writing for Zach, so I'm not sure if I've nailed his character. But I do really love him, so I'm really happy that @boliv-jenta asked for a Zach fic 😁

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Words: 936

”Are you sure you want to do this?” Zach asks, his voice laced with concern. Always so worried, but your mind is made up. You really wanted this and there was nothing he could do to change your mind.

“I’m sure.” you give him a determined nod.

“Alright. You set the movie up, I’ll get the snacks and drinks.” Zach gives you a sweet smile, shaking his head as he walks away. He had a hard time understanding why you’d want to purposely make yourself scared.

Maybe it was silly, but there just was something about horror movies that drew you in. Not that you had watched many in the past, but after Zach became your roommate, it happened more frequently. Knowing he was there made it easier to watch them.

In the living room is a pull-out couch which always comes in handy on movie nights. You guys would make a little bed full of pillows and blankets, turn of the lights and of course get snacks. You have just finished setting it up, when Zach comes back and put the stuff on the little tray table you brought just for nights like this.

“Which one is it today?” He asks softly, eyeing your little setup with a smile.

“The Conjuring. I’ve heard it’s good. Apparently based on real events, which just makes it more scary.” You chuckle, putting on a brave face, but Zach looks right through it. So he just smiles softly and sit down, patting the couch beside him.

It doesn't take much more than 15 minutes before you slowly inch closer to Zach. He puts his arm on the backrest, just waiting for the first real jumpscare and like he predicted, you scream and nuzzle into his side.

“That didn’t take long.” Zach chuckles, gaining a slap on the gut from you.

“I hate you.” You mumble with a grin, focusing on the screen again.

“No, you don’t.” Zach smiles, placing a soft kiss on your forehead. And he’s right. You could never hate Zach. Quite the opposite, actually. Not that you’d ever tell him, though.

For now, you just settle for snuggling closer to him, letting his arm fall around you, his hand landing on your midsection.

“Oh shit!” You squeal and quickly bury your face in Zach’s chest. He just chuckles and squeeze you a little tighter, knowing this would happen again. “Don’t laugh. Aren’t you scared?”

“No, sweetheart. I’ve seen worse.” Zach grins and take a sip of his beer. While pulling you a little closer to him, Zach looks down. He’d never admit it if you asked, but he loved whenever you wanted to watch horror movies, because you always ended up like this. Snuggled into his side, needing him to protect you.

Ever since the day you met, you offering a struggling guy a meal, Zach had liked you. Too sweet for your own good, kinder than most and funny. You never once saw him as a homeless guy, just someone you had things in common with.

And now you were here, a year later, roommates and he was madly in love with you. He wouldn’t risk saying anything, afraid you wouldn’t feel the same and things would turn awkward, so he settled for this. Horror nights with you hiding in his nook.

When the end credits finally roll over the screen, you breathe a sigh of relief. It was finally over. But it really hadn’t been too bad, since Zach was there.

“It’s getting late. Maybe we should-”

“No!” You interrupt Zach, giving him a pleading look. “I... I need to see something fun before I can sleep. Please?”

How could he resist your puppy eyes? Zach just chuckles, kissing the top of your head. “Alright, sweetheart. But only if I can choose what to see now.”

You don’t remember much more after that. Zach put on a Disney movie, but which one didn’t matter. What mattered was you in Zach’s arms, the place where you always felt safe.

You wake up sometime during the night, needing to pee. But as you try to get up, Zach squeeze you tighter, mumbling for you not to go. “Got to use the bathroom, I’ll be right back.” You grin and make it quick.

Returning to the pullout bed, Zach instantly pull you into his embrace again. Night like these were gold to him too, having close always made him calmer, would keep the nightmares at bay.

“This is nice.” He mumbles as you settle in close, not fully awake.

“No other place I'd rather be.” You reply, feeling flustered as his hand comes to rest on top of yours. Daring to look up, you meet his gaze. Those beautiful chocolate eyes finding yours in the dim light.

For what seems like an eternity, you just look softly at each other, no words needed. Zach is the first to break the silence.

“I like you.” He says with a hint of worry in his voice, worried you won't say it back.

“I like you too, Zach.” And then, you do something you never thought you'd be brave enough to do. Cupping his cheek, you lean in closer and kiss him softly. Just a quick, sweet kiss, but it still manages to set your body on fire.

Zach’s heart beats so fast he fears it might burst through his chest. Happiness isn't a strong enough word to describe what he's feeling right now, finally having kissed you.

For the first time in a long time, you've made him feel peace. Finally, he feels at home.

I'm not really sure who to tag in this. So I'm sorry for the unsolicited tags. Please feel free to ignore 😅❤️

@absurdthirst @wardenparker @pascalslittlebrat @littlemisspascal @nicolethered @musings-of-a-rose @thirstworldproblemss @storiesofthefandomlovers @pedrito-friskito @scorpio-marionette

#zach wellison x reader #zach wellison #zach wellison fanfiction

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wispforever · 6 months

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Some thoughts on Itachi

So, I've seen a lot of comments circulating about my tags on this post, and I'm intrigued at the interest. I didn't expect it, as I see much more pigeonholing of Itachi's character than honest to god analysis. No hate- I'm no stranger to Kishimoto's writing. Some of his characters were unfortunately butchered or never given the chance to be developed properly, and Itachi is most certainly no exception. That said, I like to grant him a bit more nuance than I see on most blogs. I think people get a little wrapped up in the supposed "moral implications" of exploring how Itachi was also a victim of the system, as well as someone who victimized many people. But it's silly to equate character analysis and context consideration with condoning genocide.

I have a good laugh every once and a while at the metaphorical gymnastics people do in order to stay in the good graces of a bunch of internet trolls who are just Waiting for any opportunity to tell you you love murder and think it's delicious just because you made a post exploring a character's background. Media is grey; it's layered and wonderfully complex. There are many wrongs and rights in every story, and many wrongs and rights within those wrongs and rights. That's what I love about Naruto. Often times it's really too much like real life. Instead of people being black and white, right or wrong, bad or good- they're usually in a tough situation, trying their best and falling short, don't have all of the information, acting with good intentions or acting on what they believe will bring about a lesser evil, and then end up hurting others.

But it is much easier to assign blame and move on. A so-called bad person will always be the perfect scapegoat for issues bigger than them. In Itachi's case, the fascist government in the Leaf. It's easier to say Itachi could have just refused and decided not to be involved, than to recognize that like almost every other character in the narrative, he was under extreme duress, living in a military state. He was a child whose existence, along with all the other children and adults in the Leaf, was only valuable as long as he could serve as a tool for the war machine in the shinobi world's fucked up political system. And saying this is not the same as saying he was not capable of better decisions or that everything that he did thereafter or in general should not be read critically or subject to hypothetical consequences. It is the same as a saying his actions cannot be fully understood without complete context, and the themes of Naruto will never come through if every villain is just "evil" with no further nuance. And it would be boring too LOL

That said, I love to think about Itachi's situation back then. The ages in Naruto are a bit muddled, a little inconsistent, subject to change and interpretation, but Itachi was a child when he murdered everyone in the Uchiha compound. Most sources say he was 13. It should go without saying that someone so young isn't capable of the same decision-making or critical thinking as say, a 30-year-old, someone whose brain is finished developing and has much more experience on Earth.

Itachi's experience at this point in his life is informed by his age, and it's obviously informed by his childhood, as he has no other place from which to draw conclusions. Itachi grew up in a warring state. He saw people die and was subject to extreme violence in his formative years. To make matters worse, he was taught that war was inevitable and the only thing he could do to guard against it was kill others before they got the chance to kill him (threaten the village). Thusly, Itachi internalized at a very young age that what was in his power was to minimize damage (to himself, to his village, and to the world). What was not in his power was to stop this violence entirely (by adopting a critical mindset and going against fascist powers).

A part of this I think people often forget is that Itachi has absolutely nowhere to adopt this mindset FROM, as even though his father and the other members of the Uchiha clan seek equity in the Leaf, if they were to overthrow the Hokage and create a new system, it would still presumably center around the same ideals (minus, of course, the oppression of the Uchiha as a group). Fugaku is the head of the Uchiha clan at this time. As someone who imposed near impossible performance-related expectations on both of his sons, and withheld love and affection whenever they came up short (so often that it was at the cost of having any considerable emotional bond with either of them), there is absolutely no good reason to believe that Fugaku would reform the Leaf using a non-fascist ideology. And if he did, there is no good reason to believe that he would be some kind of visionary LMAO

This is important to remember because when it comes down to Itachi's decision to either kill everyone in the Uchiha compound and his family, or be part of the coup that would overthrow the Leaf, some people treat it as though it's a choice between fascism and non-fascism, which it most certainly is not. And if it was, Itachi, as a child who had grown up immersed in this ideology, would not be able to appreciate the difference. This context allows us to understand further what Itachi was really weighing in that moment. Accounting for his young age and limited worldview, the only valuable difference in this moment to Itachi was the amount of bloodshed that he would "allow" to happen. Essentially, he sees the options as follows:

Either give in to Danzo and kill everyone in the Uchiha compound, or facilitate a coup where the current government is (hopefully) overthrown and risk starting another war.

Here, Itachi pauses. He has known war. He knows how it affects children, adults, families, and whole nations. The peace he's living in currently is bought with blood, but it's the only peace he's ever known. The alternative is horrifying. And a war in this context, Itachi likely thinks, would be his fault, as he has now been put in the position to "prevent" it. Danzo and the whole shinobi system have groomed him into thinking so. Itachi, at age 13, cannot understand that there would be no war; it exists only as leverage for Danzo's argument at this point. His sensitivities are being played on.

Fugaku, though he is not the same as Danzo, offers about as much help as he does (that being none). Fugaku has no interest in avoiding war; if a war breaks out, it's justified because it will still mean his clan will no longer be living in oppression. This idea is valid, as fascist systems and discrimination can only cease to exist when we rise up against them; unfortunately, this most often calls for righteous violence, as the oppressive powers will not be moved with peaceful shows (not to mention they are willing to go to extreme lengths to avoid losing their hold on the people they have crushing power over, i.e. the Uchiha massacre). But Fugaku has no words to explain this to Itachi, who fears the worst and further fears being responsible for the worst. All he does is act as if it's a moral failing that his 13-year-old son is unwilling to stage a coup, which he believes could mark the abrupt end of a peace that's only just begun.

That said, let it be known that Itachi does appreciate this situation with SOME nuance, though it isn't of the kind that might have enabled him to see he was being manipulated. He at the very least understands that Danzo is a warmonger and oppresses those he fears (the Uchiha). He understands that the rights of his clan have been sorely disrespected, and that the issue needs correction. He understands the anger of his friends and family. This is why it takes him much deliberation before he can even come close to making a decision. He plays both sides right up until the end, listening to Danzo, as well as Fugaku and Shisui, paying attention to the current atmosphere in the Leaf as he tries to decide.

It is something he doesn't want to do. Here's where I get to the part I put in the tags of my drawing.

In this situation, it's almost worthless to write an analysis about Itachi's feelings at this time, his understanding of what was actually going on, his loyalty to his clan or his loyalty to the Leaf, because really, he could not grasp it. He was never prepared for this. He never knew he would be asked to make a decision he could only understand as "your family or the world?"

Itachi was put in a position that had no happy ending. There was no decision he could make that would not hurt. That could not result in a cataclysm that split him right down the middle. There was no version of this story that a 13-year-old could carry out thinking "I have done the right thing."

And that's the important part. Both sides asked him to make this decision, and so both sides are guilty of placing an immeasurable pressure on a child who should never have been put in such a position. Regardless of ideology, regardless of price, regardless of oppression or loyalty or devotion or any other thing- someone else should have made this decision for Itachi. Someone else should have been responsible. An adult, at the very least. Someone who COULD understand the implications of both options. Someone who COULD go forward and appreciate the evil of fascism and know that a coup was necessary. Itachi was never capable of such a thing. If he made the "wrong" decision, than every child who can't explain to you what a fascist government in a military state looks like and explain what the difference is between a hate crime and resisting a hateful power, is also wrong. Here is the nuance. These are things a 13-year-old in this universe cannot be expected to understand unless they are taught. And Itachi had no teacher. Quite the opposite. There were only forces pressing him from both sides, saying "choose."

Had his father done this for him, had Shisui been in this position, had any other adult Uchiha acting as a spy been put to this task, it would be a much different narrative. But of course, it had to be Itachi, who Danzo knew he could manipulate. It had to be a child, someone skilled enough to do the job, but inexperienced enough, afraid enough, to be willing to sacrifice everything they had to see the mission through. Someone you could whisper "greater good" to and have them hand over their well being on a plate. Someone who didn't understand they had the power and strength to destroy the system threatening them.

On a narrative level, Itachi exists to illustrate this point. How young people are systematically indoctrinated to serve a greater purpose, be it under a specific government, religion, or otherwise. We see it in real life fascism, in real life cults. There's no mistake. It isn't an accident that Itachi's story begins like this.

Which brings me to the rest of his life. The reason I drew the picture in the post referenced at the top. Itachi's character is a bit of a mystery the rest of the anime. Be that because of bad writing or an intentional omission, his motives, thoughts, and opinions are largely left ambiguous. However, there are still a few moments that interest me as far as the implications of his development.

When Itachi first comes back to the Leaf village, he faces Kakashi. On the one hand, this could simply be a narrative tool- the big bad meets the big good. He takes Kakashi out of commission! The first rogue shinobi we see who is able to defeat the pillar of the Leaf, the Copy Ninja, and without even breaking a sweat!

On the other hand, I find the brutality of Itachi's attack very intriguing. Again, it could be the tough guy act, but he's able to keep three jonin busy easily using standard genjutsu (with the help of Kisame). It wouldn't be a stretch to say that using the tsukuyomi is overkill, and at a considerable price, we learn later.

Why then would Itachi, who has been shown to have excellent battle intelligence, who is strategic to a fault, be willing to jeopardize his health among other things just to... scare the Leaf? Make sure Kakashi wouldn't be a nuisance in the future? Sure, the last one would make collecting Naruto less complicated, but they dispatched Kakashi easily enough, and surely Jiraiya, who Naruto was with at the time, would pose a bigger problem than Kakashi.

It doesn't make strategic sense, which makes me wonder if Itachi has a special animosity toward Kakashi. Being his superior in the ANBU before the Uchiha massacre, someone who was willing to conduct surveillance of the Uchiha compound without question, Kakashi could have become a symbol of the indifference of the Leaf for Itachi. He could very well have been a reminder of the inoperable position Itachi was put in when he was still a child, and Kakashi, of course, was an adult. Another adult who did nothing. Noticed nothing. Did not help Itachi.

And while I'm certain that Kakashi would have taken severe issue with the goings on in the Leaf at that time, judging by his reaction when he finds out the truth in Shippuden, Itachi knows him only by what he did then. Facilitated surveillance of the Uchiha compound, was a supportive superior, but nothing greater. A bystander whose compassion, while well meaning, was entirely unhelpful.

I don't think it's far fetched that Itachi fucking crucified Kakashi because he was so angry at what being in the Leaf did to him. At some point, as he got older, he realized how terrible it was. He realized there were people like him. Children who were "born killers". Pawns in the game of the shinobi powers.

After leaving the village, Itachi joins the Akatsuki, who are also seeking peace through war (another story). He is supposed to spy for them, but doesn't follow through in any enthusiastic way (that we're shown). He works alone for quite some time, or else with a group (briefly he was shown with Conan and Kakuzu). He is partners with Orochimaru before he's expelled from the Akatsuki. He is partners with one of the Seven Swordsmen of the Mist. He grows up and meets many people, sees lots of stories unfold. He learns that he isn't in a minority. Many shinobi are just like him.

And then, as an adult, he is partnered with Kisame, who he finds excellent camaraderie with because of their similar backgrounds. We see in this relationship that he understands what happened to him and what he did enough to acknowledge that, while neither of them are monsters, as many people say, they are human. And humans make mistakes. Humans are complicated. Wrong and right and wrong and right. They understand each other, and Itachi understands more clearly what the world puts these children up to. What it forces shinobi to become. That it isn't all his fault, but he still did it. And so he is responsible. He appears to be able to live with that.

But when he returns to the Leaf, those feelings bubble up. He hates the Leaf. He hates that system. He hates what he did. Maybe he even hates being a shinobi, how his excellence was weaponized, how being an Uchiha doomed him and his clan. And for what?

Itachi is played as a character who is only sensible, only logical, only interested in practical things, has nothing to express. But the way he behaves toward Kakashi in that moment bares all his grief and anger. I just like to think about it. We have so few moments where we get to see Itachi genuinely. The fight with Kakashi, the Sasuke/Deidara fight, his thoughtful moments with Kisame. Just makes me wonder what could've been if Itachi's story had gone a little differently.

Anyway, if anyone would like me to expand on any points or has additional thoughts, feel free to hop in my ask box or leave a comment. Thanks for the interest, I love to talk.

#this is wisp #itachi uchiha #analysis

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flymetosnarryland · 5 months

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A little progress.

I'm working on "Infraction." My precious baby, uh. This art is part of it in a way. Eileen Prince and Tobias Snape. When people are falling in love everything seems easy, but then life happen.

(I'd like to talk about how things are going with Infraction.)

I'm back on it since couple of weeks and working on it is intense (my brain is literally boiling). I don't think I ever planned a story for that long. The first idea has born 6th January this year. I was writing down (like crazy) everything I wanted to be in this fic. During first months it was chaotic and messy, but brought me so much joy. When I've had everything that (I thought) I needed, I wrote first chapters, yeah. And then shared them, because was so excited about all of it and just couldn't wait. Gosh.

Now I... hm... well, maybe not "regret" it, but I think, I totally should have wait. Why is that? First thing first, this story is not ready yet for being written in, you know, final version. It's too fat, lol.

I may want too much from it. There is a lot, like, seriously, A LOT of things to cover. First notes took me around 80 pages and it had many gaps in it (too much if you ask me). Things I needed to figure out and fill in, in the same time making everything work together. Because this Snarry is not sprinkled with crime. It's filled with murder, political shenanigans, family shiteshow and tough, not always appropriate, love. There are secrets and lies, blackmails and history that matter. Backstory of many people, whose actions over the years supposed to bring us to the point where we are now. And, you know, all of it gives me the thrill. First time in my life I feel like a true Puppet Master.

So, couple weeks ago I started to write a proper outline, if I can call it like that. To put everything in order and, going from the very beginning, to fill all the gaps. To answer all the questions I was asking myself in notes. To figure out the missing clues, some details without I couldn't go further and with that - to find out how characters will change facing new situations. How they will grow (I really love this part). Sometimes I think, "why am I even doing it?" I could just write some cosy, little fic where Harry and Severus' silly problems would be the main goal of the story. Like, focusing on them should be enough, right? Why am I going for all the other things, if I just want them to shag and have their happy end after all? 😂

Well, if it's not for fun, I don't know the other reason. The level of excitement is just incredible. I don't know, if what I'm writing is good or bad. If it really has sense, because I've always seen myself rather as a potato, not as a great mastermind who can plot some good shite, you know. That said, "Infraction" feels even more challenging that I ever thought it will be. But I feel deep inside that I can do it. Going step by step where the main plan leads and... it just feels good.

I've started in October 1989. Now I'm in January 2011. It means that I managed to finish everything that happen before the fic starts, lol. And, actually, I almost covered the first part of the book. So, two more to go? Hehe. It'll take time, yes. It's crazy how much I want to continue writing the main chapters, not only swim in the plan-phase. Drawing the series of "Muggle London" art helped me a lot with easing this itch. However, it's still there. I know, though, that I have to finish it. The whole outline, I mean. Without it, things can go south.

That said, I can't tell how long it will take. Couple weeks? Maybe months. This is really... a lot of work and I want to be proud of it. Even more so, because this fic means a lot to me. I know it may not be, you know, mind blowing or something. But I hope that giving it all my love, it could be, you know, not that bad for reading, hehe.

#Infraction #Muggle London #Eileen Prince #Tobias Snape #personal #talking about writing

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partyinthemysterymachine · 4 months

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hello, everyone. this will be my first and only time i will be publicly addressing this. i am not answering questions about this, and for the first time ever, i am also disallowing anons.

first of all, i want to say that i've chosen to address this now out of my own volition. because i do not find it fair at all that i have felt that i could NOT address it at any point in order to maintain peace and harmony during, and in the wake of the event.

however, i feel that due to the nature of what happened, and the absolute damage that it has done to my mental health, that i must, in order to further my own recovery from it all, and as so no longer feel bullied into silence.

there will be no names mentioned. this is not a vaguepost. this is my formal statement for my own peace of mind and progressing on my path towards recovery.

if you know, you know; and if you don't, you don't.

so.

let's talk.

throughout this past year i have been the target of a smear campaign concerning GOOMT. it actually began late 2022, but escalated long into 2023.

what entailed was nothing short of bad faith reading and interpretation from someone whose skill in character analysis was something i'd admired. in fact, i had agreed many a time with how they'd interpreted characters and the world of Silent Hill. although my interaction with said person had historically been minimal, it had been civil, and i strived to be respectful of them.

i am unfortunately unsure of what caused this, or why it happened at all; and i do not think they know either. what i do know is that many upon many lies were told about what i write, and that it turned needlessly personal on many occasions. people were turned against me for one reason another, and i'm saddened to have seen this happen.

i stayed quiet during it all. i did what many people facing ruthless targeted harassment do, and pretended i didn't know in hopes of minimizing damage, and in hopes of responsible parties losing interest; but this did not happen. i was sent bad faith anons, i was subject to lies, and saw hypocrisy.

and i understood who they were and why they were here. they were looking for "gotcha's!" that didn't exist, digging for reasons to further vilify me.

worse, the bullying was praised. it was encouraged, and it was near-constant. a whole tag was created. the intent was to hurt and isolate me, and it did. it did hurt me, and it did make me feel isolated, and i withdrew quite a bit.

but i did not stop writing. it took longer for me to post, but i did not stop writing.

and moreover?

i REFUSE to stop writing.

i write a fanfic for a fandom i love. i am as how you see me and how i present myself. i'm enthusiastic and encouraging to others because that is genuinely how i feel. i LOVE to see others create. i LOVE to see the vast amount of interpretations, and silliness, and new OCs and pairings and OC/canon pairings, and i LOVE to see others thrive.

and i am in competition with exactly no one.

i did nothing wrong. i KNOW i did nothing wrong. i also know that those involved know that i did nothing wrong, and i did nothing to deserve the treatment i received, no matter how they try to justify it to themselves.

the behavior i faced, and how others reacted with encouragement and cheer is becoming too common and too normalized.

and it needs to stop.

i've been in therapy for the better part of my life. although i've been without a therapist since i've moved, i've finally found one to not only continue my lifelong recovery in other matters, but to help myself recover from what i faced this year.

i am extremely hurt. i know that this was the goal, and it has succeeded. if hearing this fills those involved with pride and glee, then something is wrong, because that should not elicit that reaction. i am extremely, deeply disappointed in those involved for this, and all the hypocrisy, and all the contradictions, and all the willful bad faith asks sent and posts made.

and i have done nothing wrong.

i do not hate anyone. i do not hate who started this, or even who engaged with them; and i never did.

it is okay if someone doesn't like what or how i write. in fact, i have made multiple posts about how i view my attitude towards my writing. one of the points i have made is that i encourage people who do not like what i write, to NOT read it.

there is a very old saying on fandom internet: Don't Like? Don't Read. now, this should be obvious, but the practice of hate-reading is an extremely unhealthy behavior that has, again, become unfortunately normalized in the recent handful of years.

unlearn hate-reading. you do not read to read anything you do not like. it, in many cases, can actually constitute as self-harm. and if you choose to do this, it is not the author's fault.

it is yours. and you need to take responsibility for your own actions.

there are people here who were needlessly cruel to me and who i feel do not feel a lick of remorse for what they've done. i hope some day that they can reflect with a clearer head and understand, and take some responsibility for their actions.

and i genuinely, from the bottom of my heart, with full raw sincerity, hope that they do get to heal; that they do learn and grow; that they UNlearn these toxic behaviors; are able to move away from people who exhibit them; find the courage and strength to stand up for themselves and/or others, to end the cycle; and that they understand that i do not hate them, and that i wish them full success in their future health and endeavors.

that said, i hope all involved will never forget the harm they have done. i hope they cringe. i hope it keeps them up at night, and i dearly hope they actually regret their actions, or at some point come to regret it.

i do not hate any one of them, and i won't. i never will.

and never will anyone involved ever be forgiven for it either.

most of all - and on a much lighter note - i want to say thank you to those who supported me during this time. your patience and reassurance has been a saving grace that words unfortunately cannot do justice. you are precious to me, and i love you all, and i hope that i can be just as strong and supportive to you in your times of need.

thank you too to all my readers, my followers, and my friends. i'm sorry to have been largely absent this past year, but this was the reason why. next year it will be better, not just for me, but for all of us. i promise. i love you all.

i also love me, my art, my writing as a whole, and myself. i am a tough cookie. i may have cried a lot, i may have gotten frustrated and angry, but i am human. i'm allowed to feel this way, and i will feel this way for a while as i heal, yet i refuse to be bitter; and i refuse to stop loving what i do.

because i love GOOMT. i love developing GOOMT, i love drawing for GOOMT, and i love writing GOOMT. i always will love GOOMT, no matter how many years more it takes for me to write it. so thank you to all who have read and enjoyed GOOMT, and have matched my enthusiasm for it and its future. i am so, SO blessed to have you here, and i am SO excited to spin my story.

and i am so, SO glad to be alive to be able to share my piece of this silly foggy world with you.

cheers, mates. i look forward to a new year, better health for me and all, and to what beautiful things we can create and share together.

i love you - and i promise that we will be okay.

for we are alive, and with wounds that WILL heal.

#ches writes

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alloftheimaginesblog · 10 months

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can't get you {sirius black}

requested by anon: Post!Azkaban Sirius except he absolutely refuses to go outside in the cold no matter how many jackets he has on bc it reminds him of the dementors in Azkaban and reader helps him work through it.

character: sirius black x reader

Even now five years after his escape from Azkaban, Sirius Black still struggled in his day-to-day life. Nightmares were still a regular occurrence for him as much as he tried to pretend they weren't. Each and every night Sirius would toss and turn, waking you up from your own sleep, and would end up leaping up panting and body shimmering in a cold sweat. He let you help him, let you hold him and let himself break down in the crook of your neck but to everyone else, he was fine; no nightmares, no PTSD, no trauma, no nothing.

There was one thing Sirius hadn't told you about his struggles. One thing he deemed silly and hardly necessary. He didn't want you to think he was weak so he hid it for as long as he could, always having an excuse up his sleeve until one day, his secret came out.

Sirius Black had a fear of the cold weather.

The fear didn't develop for a few years. One day it just... happened. He had been out with you one day, arms bare in the cool Autumn breeze, and all of a sudden the cool seeped into him, cooling down not only his skin but his blood, his organs, his everything. His breath had caught in his throat as his heart hammered. There was a ringing in his ears as his head whipped around - he was looking for it; looking for the Dementor. Why else would his whole body feel cold and dull? Why else would he be chilled to the bone? Yet, there was nothing. He was safe. You'd asked if he was okay, warm hand on his cool cheek which snapped him back to life.

The following day he had put on a jumper and a jacket, believing he had just made a poor outfit choice, but even then the cold crept into his chest like the tendrils of the Dementors and he couldn't... He couldn't face it.

So, he always made up a lie or an excuse to not face the cold.

"Head's quite sore today, love, I'd rather not."

"Moony's going to come here instead, easier that way."

"I don't feel like going out today."

Until one day when he had came out with you during spring time. The last three days had been temperatures of almost twenty degrees Celsius, positively lovely outside, so he had ventured out with you. At first, the weather was lovely with the sun splitting the sky but after lunch, things took a turn.

You were excitedly pulling Sirius down the street to bring him to the new vinyl record shop that had opened up when all of a sudden, he stopped dead in his tracks.

"Come on, Sirius," you grinned, turning back but quickly, your face fell as you saw his expression. His eyes were glazed over as he stared through you. The cold crept in, taking over his body and freezing him in place. He looked horrified at something but he wouldn't respond to you asking him if he was okay. You walked towards him, repeating his name a few times but still, no answer. Sirius's eyes closed, that ringing in his ears was back and he felt like he was under water; sinking to the depths of a freezing cold ocean, unable to hear and unable to breathe.

"Sirius!" You cried out, planting your warm hands on his cheeks and forcing his head to tilt to yours.

Warmth. Sirius could feel it, slowly defrosting him from the outside to the inside. He suddenly could swim, pushing himself up and away from the black tendrils of the Dementors that wanted so desperately to drown him. He swam upwards and managed to break the surface-

"C-Cold!" He spluttered out, choking as he gulped air into his lungs but the air was cold and it wasn't helping. He was beginning to panic, "So-So cold!"

"Here," you said as you hurriedly pulled your jacket off, draping it around his shoulders. You pulled it tight around him but he was babbling about it not being enough, that it was still too cold. Your attempts to rub his shoulders, trying to get heat into him was futile and you could tell he was panicking. You had to get him somewhere safe and somewhere warm.

"Come on," you grabbed his hand, which helped to ground him a little bit with your warmth, "it's not far. Can you walk?" Sirius nodded but he only managed to get about 100 yards before he froze again.

His head was whipping around wildly, "They-They're coming!" He hissed. Passers-by gave him odd glances, "(y/n), they're going to get me!"

"Who, Sirius?" You asked desperately trying to continue dragging him down the street. Grimmauld Place was another two hundred or so yards away, "Who's going to get you?"

"The... The- The Dementors." His voice was a strangled hiss as he looked at you, a crazed panic in his eyes.

You involuntary gave a small gasp, "Oh, Sirius," you whispered as your eyes flooded with tears, "they can't get you. They won't get you." You had no idea Sirius was affected this much. Of course you knew about his nightmares but he always seemed so... fine? But as you looked at him, trying to console him, you realised that maybe this is why he didn't like going out much. It was cold... like the Dementors. It all made sense. Your heart ached for him as you looked at his scared face, "Hey," you said strongly forcing yourself to be brave for him. He needed you to be strong, he needed you to be his strength in his moment of weakness. Again, you planted your hands on his cheeks, "you feel that? You feel how warm my hands are? Sirius, answer me." Sirius nodded, blinking a few times as though coming back to himself, "You're safe, Sirius. You're with me and the Dementors can't get you here. They're gone, not coming back for you. I know that you're cold but that doesn't mean they're coming to get you... They can't get you, Sirius, you hear me? You're safe."

He nodded and you gently took his hand and tugged him, "We need to get you home, Sirius. We'll put the fire on, get a blanket, some tea... We'll get you warmed up, okay?" He nodded again, "I need you to walk Sirius. I know you're cold and I know you're scared, I see how scared you are, baby, but I need you to trust me okay?"

His lip wobbled and his eyes filled with tears but he softly whispered, "O-Okay, I trust you." God you wanted to break down into tears but you couldn't, not yet. You had to get him home, make sure he warmed up and calmed down. You had to protect him. He staggered and stumbled but he allowed you to pull him to Grimmauld Place. He managed okay but around the half way mark, he started to pull away from him.

"Sirius, you're okay," you said, slightly breathless as you wrestled to hold his hands, "I promise you they're not coming to get you. You're safe. I've got you, Sirius. You are safe." This settled him until you got him into Grimmauld Place, shoving him through the door and locking it quickly behind you, "Kreacher!" You screeched loudly. A crack behind you signalled Kreacher's arrival, "Make us tea please, quickly. Oh and put some chocolate on the tray too." Kreacher grumbled something before he apparated to the kitchen to get it sorted, probably an insult but you didn't care.

Quickly, you bundled Sirius onto the couch, grabbing the blankets from the chairs and wrapping him up into them. He was chittering, eyes squeezed shut. With your wand, you sent a fireball into the fireplace which immediately set the logs into an orange blaze. You wrapped yourself around Sirius, pressing your warm cheeks against his cool ones, "You're safe," you repeated over and over, "they can't get you in here, you hear me? You're safe. I've got you, Sirius. I've got you, not them, just me. It's just me and you," a crack sounded, "and Kreacher. That's it." He placed the tray of tea on the coffee table, "I promise you, Sirius Black, they will never hurt you again."

You continued to murmur warm words of comfort to him and slowly, he began to defrost. His body wasn't so rigid and his skin wasn't so cold anymore. He opened his eyes, blinking a few times from the brightness, "I'm safe?" He said hoarsely.

You nodded furiously, "The house has so many protection spells on it from Remus and Minerva and even Albus himself. The Dementors aren't after you, they're not going to get you. If they tried it, I'd send them to hell, Sirius. I'm not going to let anything happen to you, I promise you." You pressed a warm kiss to his forehead, "You are safe, I promise."

You peeled away from him to pick up a mug of tea, "Here," you said forcing his hands to wrap around it, "drink, you'll feel better. Oh, and eat this," you said, grabbing a chocolate from the tray, "open up." Sirius complied with the tiniest of smiles and ate the chocolate. Remus was right, chocolate always helped.

You stayed beside him as he sipped the tea. Once he was finished, you took the mug and wrapped yourself back around him, "How do you feel?" You asked quietly.

"Warm," he said with a chuckle. He was slowly coming back to you, "but I'm not ready to take anything off yet. I want to be warm for a while."

You nodded, "That's fine with me," you said, kissing his forehead again, "we'll just be warm today. No plans, just warmth."

#sirius black x reader #sirius black imagine #imagine #sirius black #sirius black x you #sirius black one shot #one shot #os #harry potter one shot #harry potter #hp imagine #hp #reader insert #padfoot

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vtoriacore · 1 year

Text

✧ they feel too much, too deep, too fast

note: huzzah, me waxing weird fvnking yandere poetry (not really) at ungodly hours of the night when i should be writing an essay.

extra note: PLS tell me i’m doing sebek justice, i didn’t want to bring malleus up at all (because i don’t really like him don’t really want this to be sebek’s yandere personality lol). also didn’t really proofread this enough so there probably are silly errors but spare me the shame thank you mwah!

characters: cater, vil, sebek, ace, jamil

tw: gaslighting, manipulation & bit of mind games if you squint, delusional mindsets

synopsis: in which the boys' love is a bit intense, but you don't necessarily pay it attention with how focused you are on them reciprocating.

✯; It was a novel experience, really. He couldn't surmise the feelings he felt in that one moment that seemed to change the trajectory of his entire life - and this was by no means exaggeration.

Cater felt the rapid beating of his heart, felt the way his breathing picked up dramatically, and most of all felt the warmth as it spread throughout his body at the notion of feeling wanted. Feeling cared for. And by the great seven he didn't even realise how much he craved this until now.

It was almost comical how it only took a simple "i want you to be honest with me" on your end to absolutely send his heart into overdrive, how the phrase "i care about you, you know" escaped your lips so easily and just how effortless it seemed for you to look at him with concern gleaming in your eyes when you noticed his smile didn't quite feel genuine that day.

He felt his entire world flip for just a second before everything came crashing down and the sudden weight of emotions he couldn't even begin to name grounded him into reality - where he actually felt he wanted to stay for once if just to see you for a second longer.

There were so many different thoughts swimming around in his head but most importantly- you were still waiting for an answer. And he'd sooner combust than keep you waiting any longer.

"I know you do, prefect! But really don't worry so much~ I'll be fine as long as you keep me company," he silently prayed you couldn't see the raging crimson hue settling on his skin under the darkening sky. It was a miracle he managed to vocalise his sentence anyway with how abalze his entire body felt.

"I'll worry anyway, but I'll always be here if you do want to spend time with me. Just us two or with others."

'Just us two, just us two, just us two'; he nearly squealed, feeling the temptation to take you up on that offer immediately. In fact, he really did not want to go back to the dorm and have to share your attention. No, he needed it on him and only him and he wouldn't let anything get in the way of that soft gaze of yours.

"Hmm, I actually wouldn't mind getting away from the crowd just this once!" with a grin, Cater's eyes bore into your frame with an intensity he couldn't quite halt but he figured you wouldn't notice anyway, seeing as you offered a smile and a nod in return to his statement. He simply couldn't wait to get you on his own after that revelation.

✯; Vil carefully threaded his fingers through his platinum blond hair in front of the vanity mirror, knowing you were beside watching his every move. He could feel your stare burning into his side profile and in that moment, he was so grateful that years of acting had allowed him to keep his calm when all he wanted to do was combust into flames.

"Hm? Is something the matter, dear?" he purposefully lowered his tone, made it sound as sultry as possible, expecting the little surprise on your face as you quickly tried to keep composure when he side eyed you. The urge to take you into his arms was incredibly strong in that second, especially when you cast your eyes to his lips momentarily.

God, he had never wished to smudge his lipstick by locking his lips onto yours more than in that particular moment, when the soft lights in his room highlighted your face in a manner that made you look so ethereal that it was hard to breathe.

"I'm . . . Fine. Yeah," you swallowed thickly, willing yourself to look away so you wouldn't do anything stupid. The blonde found himself delighted at your reaction, willing his own gaze to rip away from your face otherwise he might just end up making his own intense decisions on a whim.

And yet, he found that he almost didn't mind. Sure, he had wanted to make his confession of love absolutely perfect (having asked Rook to give him all the information on you he possibly could get away with) but at the end of the day, he flourished in the way his efforts to enamour you had been paying off. And, and, and! He could clearly see you wanted him, maybe not as much as he wanted - no, needed you, but still wanted him nonetheless. It was progress all the same.

However, at the same time a part of Vil had wanted your admiration to be deeper . . . more intimate. Although he knew it was wrong and absolutely sick, he had hoped you would do something more. He wanted you to secretly follow him, thinking he can't sense your presence when it's the only thing filling his mind. He wanted you to take pictures he wouldn't ever find, but would know were taken since his gaze never leaves you. And he so desperately wanted your attention all on him, and nothing but him, never straying away for more than a second.

He was going to make you obsessed with him, one way or another. And soon, he will be the only thing occupying your thoughts - he simply has to be.

✯; There wasn't a semblance of sense to Sebek's thoughts, and he knew it. Just how could a simple 'human' (he refused to admit you were more than that, so much more than that) be so captivating? If anyone had asked him in that second, on who was the most fair in his eyes, his answer would've been you. Delusional or not, your name would inevitably slip past his lips.

The conflicting feelings he felt within him didn't ease at all; he felt like he was betraying his master, but at the same time, he didn't really have control over what he was thinking. And this once, he didn't want to think about anything other than you. He wished for you to be the center of his attention, and he couldn't even describe why. It just felt so liberating, despite it holding his mind captive. The irony didn't even register as his lime coloured eyes simply inspected your form.

Great seven, you were just so beautiful. And he so wished that you saw him that way too, because lord knows he was addicted to your gaze whenever it landed on him. He always needed more and more and more. But he wasn't selfish, no! - he was willing to give back twice as much and he would do anything to get the chance to do so.

His rational thoughts telling him this isn't normal be damned! That overpowering need to have you to himself was too strong. His own master and Lilia expressed that this is something worth pursuing anyway, that his adoration is 'perfectly reasonable' and 'aww, so cute!'. How could he stop pursuing you this way, if his own role models encouraged him to keep going? How could he stop when they affirmed this is normal, completely okay?

And besides, it wasn't as though you were rejecting his advances; you were actively awaiting his next move and he could tell from the teasing glint you held in your eyes each time. Even now, as you simply looked at him, he could tell you wanted him to do something. Anything. If he wasn't actively feeling what he was doing, he would've suspected you had complete control over his body with how his rationality couldn't win over.

But well, he wouldn't have minded if that was the case. This line of thinking may not be right, but it sure as hell does feel it.

✯; Ace could really be cruel at times. Really cruel - and he knew it, you knew it, everyone knew it. But even he could recognise that this time, maybe he went too far. Scratch that 'maybe' actually, he may have just ruined whatever friendship you two had. And what better way to do that than kissing you senseless against the empty alchemy classroom's door as you both struggle for air?

"Ace I- I need . . . Some, some oxygen," you barely managed to rasp out against his lips as his ruby red eyes barely shifted into focus. Great seven, he felt so incredibly dazed with how tightly he was pressing against you as could barely keep his hands from moving through your hair.

"Fuck oxygen, I wanna kiss you," the redhead felt his heart hammer (even more so than previously) against his chest at the sound of your giggle. Without a second thought, not that he could think in the first place with what you were doing to him, Ace dove right back in to slot his lips against yours.

Could you really blame him though? It wasn't his fault you were so breathtaking that he could barely keep his eyes away from your form. It wasn't his fault that every time you looked at him, you had that certain look to you - the kind which told him that if he'd ask you to pluck the stars out of the sky for him, you wouldn't even hesitate. And it sure as hell wasn't his fault that you were actively trying to pull him into you more, if that was even possible with your current proximity.

Ace was never one for discipline or self-control, and he was completely aware of it. Sure it proved to be a hindrance most times, but he thought that today, when he spontaneously decided to press you up against this door, it wasn't such a bad thing after all. He knew he had gone too far, that the carefully crafted friendship was now over, that he was being particularly cruel with the way he kept biting your lower lip to get a reaction and, that by kissing you senseless in this very second, he knew that he couldn't ever let you go.

✯; They say that love at first sight is a very magical experience, and that it can completely change a person and their outlook on things. But Jamil would have to disagree with this notion. There never was a love at first sight, nor a love at second sight, or the third and fourth and so on. It was never about sight anyway. Because the first time he met you, he just felt it. He felt how the universe had perfectly aligned itself for that one fateful meeting, how you simply had to accidentally run into his arms as if scripted and how effortlessly he had caught you as if taking stage directions like a professional actor.

It didn't register immediately of course, quite the contrary as it took him a few weeks, if not months to understand what he was feeling. He did eventually come to the realisation that maybe he had liked you as more than a friend (in fact, liked would be putting it mildly) but each time he thought back to that certain encounter, he just knew the feeling was there from the beginning.

At least, he remembers it that way, and has memorised it to be that way. Every time he thinks back to your smile and eyes when he had helped you, they seem to get brighter and brighter and more clouded with emotions he could never transcribe. And it simply has to be true because you had to have felt the exact same thing and he is convinced.

Sure, the jolt of electricity and sparks and the effect of time slowing down were missing - you two weren't in some half hearted romance movie after all - but he just knew that you both felt it. Maybe you didn't remember it that way initially, but after enough description on Jamil's end, you were finally starting to remember!

And it made the heat creep up his skin at alarming rates, as it simply solidified one thing; you were meant to be together. It's cliché, and he knows it. But does he care, with the way you run into his arms every time you see him? With how he feels his heartrate pick up just as upon your very first meeting?

It feels like the first every time, and he could see you were starting to believe it too. If he wasn't certain of his own strong ideology regarding this, he almost would've thought you believed it even more than him by this point! But he knew it wasn't because he was blindly making up excuses to keep you tied to him, despite what Azul was trying to claim. Azul was simply wrong; there were no rose coloured lenses involved, nor any gaslighting into making you think he was the only person worthwhile in your life and certainly he wasn't making you depend on him so you could never leave even if you tried to.

Jamil was convinced your love was pure and it was honest and it was true, and he didn't have to convince you of anything any longer, because by this point you were the one trying to convince him.

[;-] i usually never do this but i’m thinking of expanding that jamil thought into an actual fic because whoo shared delusions and manipulating each other (and he’s my fave anfkgn). plus originally i was gonna get his UM involved but it would’ve gotten too long whoops.

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rggie · 2 years

Text

diasomnia as royal au tropes

characters: silver, malleus, sebek, lilia

cw: gn!reader, royal!au, angst, fluff, arranged marriage, unedited.

notes: this is just silly brainrot after rewatching barbie mvs. likes and reblogs are appreciated!!!

silver ⇾ the knight

“your highness, we must make haste!” silver bursts into your room at the edge of night, shaking you awake with concerning urgency as shouts and screams echo around the castle walls in a resounding cacophony. you’re barely rousing from your slumber as he ushers some sort of footwear on you in an arduous manner, grabbing your hand firmly. “i’ll escort you to safety--the castle has been invaded! come, quickly!”

when your homeland is overthrown by another kingdom and the the people of your country revolt against you, silver, your most valiant knight, is the only one who stands firmly by your side.

your footsteps are silent, running through the halls; his steps are clanky and armour-clad, leading the opposing-side straight to you. they have the advantage in numbers—you know that silver can’t combat them all.

blade drawn across his chest, silver demands for you to leave him behind. you know that is not a request, but an order—the first one he has ever made. even being the most esteemed chevalier in your ranks, he has never asked for anything of the royal family, content with silently fuffiling his role. there’s a sort of inconsolable pain that comes with knowing this was the only thing he’d ever ask of you, but the decision was final. you must go. his earnest expression tells you he won’t change his mind.

you could never doubt where silver’s faith lay. it was and always would be with you. that fact need not be uttered, for it was expressed with his actions. even now, he not once let any foe lay a hand on you; silver was the epitome of resolute and devoted, from the very beginning till the very end.

(when he battles to the brink of exhaustion and takes the final blows all in your stead, silver thinks back to the warmth you had given him. it’s only then that he realises the loyalty he pledged to you felt a lot more like love.)

“no matter who it is against you, or what it is you’re facing, i will forever stand by your side. that is my oath to you.”

malleus draconia ⇾ a loveless royal marriage

“happy anniversary, your excellency!” there’s cheers from all of those residing in the manor. malleus entwines his fingers with yours, squeezing it slightly, the affectionate gesture just enough to satisfy his grandmother and the other guests. once they are pleased with the act, he searches for some sort of joy in your eyes—but there is nothing. the people were congratulating a sham.

malleus doesn’t dare to look at you for too long, because it’s plain to see you’re devoid of life. you don’t love him. he knows you don’t love him. this arrangement killed the person he fell in love with years ago. he can’t recall the last time he’s heard you laugh genuinely, doubling over with endearing crinkles in the corners of of eyes and hands on your knees to steady yourself—you were so carefree. he wishes he had gotten a portrait done so he could remind himself of what you used to be, and not what you are now.

there are so many guests, people you recognise and people you do not, bounding up to the two of you to give you gifts and blessings. you’re giving non-convincing smiles as you chatter, shaking hands and receiving hugs. you don’t want this. you don’t want to be here.

maybe malleus notices your discomfort, as his hand hovers over the midsection of your back. it never touches.

he knows you are not happy. that’s why he pretends to not see the absence of a wedding band on your left-finger, the love letters addressed to another prince, and your hushed preparations at midnight to run away. (it’s ludicrous how the closer you get to leaving him, the more lively you become. you are coming back, you are blooming, but not under his touch—under somebody else’s.)

perhaps your new lover is louder, brighter and sunnier, all attributes he lacks. perhaps he should stop looking for excuses to help him loathe himself less. you and malleus were just not made for each other, and that was that.

“if i cannot make you happy, then i shan’t bind you to me any longer. go, and do not return.”

sebek zigvolt ⇾ a royal rivalry

“why aren’t you dancing? can’t you find a suitor? or did you fail your ballroom lessons? how pitiable. did you not pay attention? in my family--” sebek cocks a brow haughtily as though his mouth wasn’t half-stuffed with sweets. in spite of his discourtesy, he still carried an incorrigible regal air about himself. you grit your teeth. “do you ever shut up? nobody has asked me yet..”

sebek has been your rival since birth—the bane of your existence. both of your kingdoms are close allies, meaning you’re plagued by his endless chatter more than you’d like to be. everything is always has to be a competition between you both—he never misses a chance to remind you of his ‘fae descended’ bloodline that somehow makes him superior to you.

usually, you expect him to yell as soon as he sees you, but he’s oddly quiet. after your last exchange of words, green irises train on those participating in ongoing slow-dance, and then on you. he seems to be insinuating something, but you’re not sure what he wants out of you; you wonder if he’s sizing you up, or comparing heights.

when he instead leans forwards and extends his hand, your breath hitches. what in the world is he doing?! you feel eyes burn into your back—people were staring! you shoot him a quizzical look, but his expression is stiff, slightly rosy, focused on you only. his hand waits for you to take it. “well i-i suppose i can spare the likes of you a dance.”

you scowl—but even as you do, you put your hand in his. if you weren’t in such utter shock, you’d laugh at the audacity of him of all people being your partner for the night. you’re suddenly picking up on things you’ve never noticed about him before: the green embellishments on his suit compliment his hair well… and oh, he does look better with his hair down, and…

he was your enemy, so why did he suddenly seem so… charming?

“are you leading or am i? …huh? you dare question my dancing ability? i’ll have you know, i had LESSONS!”

lilia vanrouge ⇾ forbidden love

you peer outside your bedroom window. he’s there again—the enigma of a bard who comes to play tunes for the royal family. as if he could feel your eyes on him, he looks right in your direction with a knowing smile—flustered, heart thrumming against your chest, you draw your curtains shut. your family think he’s here to play for everyone, but you know better. he’s here for you.

you’d spend every night before lilia arrived sleepless, waiting upon his arrival. his songs were ballads of worlds you never got to see, and never would be able to experience. you would hang onto his every word, head rested on his laps as he sung away. you’d be scolded for getting too close by others, but he didn’t seem to mind… so again, you’re quick to rush to his side today, keeping an amiable distance in front of your guards.

his voice is spirituous and unlike anything you’d ever heard before, laced with a certain edge you couldn’t get enough of; you’re certain he must be a wizard enchanting you. how else could you have fallen so fast? was it his eloquence, or his youthfulness that contrasts his extensive historical knowledge, or his archaic way of attempting to court you? you supposed it didn’t matter. all you knew was that your entire being was entranced by this strange fleeting sensation.

you sneak him away from prying eyes as soon as you can, and he teases you: “aren’t you greedy, wanting me all to yourself?” taking your hand and pressing chaste kisses to the back of it. the thrill of trying to not get caught spurs him on, and the sheepish look on your face and tremor of your stuttering as he renders you speechless is a plus.

you have been unsure of yourself your whole life, not knowing if the roadmap you had laid out for you was the one you truly desired—but this was the one thing you’re certain about. you must see this man again. (even if it means going against orders and sneaking out, even if it brings your family shame, even if you find out you’re not special to him in the end.)

when you tell him such, he throws his head back in a fit of giggles. you truly believe he embodies temptation, drawing you inwards—you can’t resist it!! he thinks you’re so cute, with your bashful expression and all, as he taps your nose thrice and pinches your cheek with gleeful adoration.

“you would really risk it all just to see me? i might serenade you on the spot.”

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #silver twst x reader #silver twst #silver x reader #sebek zigvolt #sebek zigvolt x reader #lilia vanrouge #lilia vanrouge x reader #malleus draconia #malleus draconia x reader #twst fic #twst imagines #🐾・/ rggie twst

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atom-writings · 8 months

Note

Hi!!!!!!

Can I request the main 8 with a poet/writer s/o?

The main 8 find their s/o's poems or writing about them and it's like how much they love them !!!

(hopefully this makes sense :D have a nice day!

Also your writing super coolio )

hetalia allies + germany with a s/o who's a writer

1.6k words ~ gender neutral heacanons + mini scenarios

tw: swearing, thats it!

a/n: i believe this is after the cutoff so its only 6 characters sorry! also ty :)

America

Alfred may not seem like it, considering his less-than-stellar attention span, but he can be quite an avid reader if he wants to be.

In fact, when he was travelling the western frontier, he often wrote poems himself.

He loves your work, (he’s always the first one showing up on release day!) but he doesn’t love how much time it takes away from you.

Seeing you exhausted and frustrated after a long night, trash can filled with discarded drafts, just breaks his heart. He’ll make sure your office is always stacked with

Alfred wasn’t usually so easily swayed by cheesy romances, despite his sweet soft for them. But now, reading your book, he couldn’t help flushing at every interaction his favourite couple had.

The one he was reading now, well, it just took the cake. Spending the day wandering East Potomac Park? It was something out of his dreams- just endlessly… familiar?

Wait, hadn’t he done that recently with you?

Oh.

He set the book aside, burying his face in his hands as he blushed wildly.

Guess the blue-eyed, blond love interest hero was a bit more than a stereotype after all.

England

Ah, a writer. Arthur has long admired the literary arts, having many a classic writer come from his home. Yes, he’d quite enjoy someone like that.

He loves reading your work, regardless of what it is, but he’d prefer you read it to him. Then he can get all of your silly little notes along with it. Just for him <3

Although he wouldn’t appreciate you spending all day working. He’s not needy usually, but by the time you two go to bed, he’s DESPERATE for your attention.

He tries not to disturb you, though.

From the moment he picked up your work, he could tell where your inspiration for the main love interest came from. Sandy-haired, green eyes, tall but not too tall, always how you had described him.

Of course, that made his reading even more of a joy.

The only thing that bothered him was how the protagonist described themself. Always dismissed, below-par, never worthy of his love. Now, that just wouldn’t stand.

So he began to write as well. In between the margins, on attached papers, on the sides, everywhere. Correcting every disparaging thought.

Then when he finished, he handed the book back to you, with a cheeky comment.

“It was absolutely wonderful, my love.”

Whether you ever saw the notes or not didn’t matter. He had made the book even more perfect, at least to himself.

France

As said before, Francis is a very artsy guy. Very artsy. Although he’s not always skilled at making art himself… so having another artist would help with that.

He’s absolutely the number one collector of your works. Every scrap, every trashed draft, every misprint, he’s keeping everything.

He’s also pretty ok with how much time it takes! It gives him time to relax, or maybe even join in working on creative projects.

Although he would insist on regular breaks. Fortunately, Francis is a hedonist at heart, so those breaks will always provide much inspiration.

True beauty is rare. Living for so long had proven that time and time again for Francis. It isn’t natural, it isn’t easy, and it never lasts. But…that doesn’t make the pursuit of it any more meaningless.

Even more rare than its existence, is the constant presence of it.

But when he read your poems, venerating and elucidating your own feelings, he felt as if he had found it. God, it was beautiful. Your words, unlike any other’s he had read in his many years, made him feel as if he was falling in love all over again.

Instantly, he was transported into your shoes, viewing himself in a light that had never been shone on him before.

He wasn’t entirely sure what to do with himself now. It felt wrong- wrong to not give absolute reverence to this piece of art.

If he had had access to the Louvre, he would’ve kept it there. But, well, his kitchen wall would have to do for now.

China

Finally, some good fucking talent. He's very excited about his S/O being an artist! He's not much of one himself these days, but it's good to see the youth catching up to the old masters.

As much as he loves you, he's very opinionated. Everything you write he either LOVES or HATES. Though he's always excited to show off his favourites of your works, he's very proud of you.

Though he absolutely is not stand by while you spend all day sitting around and writing. Get off the couch and come with him, you're never gonna write anything real good if you don't have any life experience!

Because of that, he's gonna be a little hesitant to cater to you while you're writing.

Your last work was good, to be sure, but nothing like this. Your newest release blew him off his feet with ease, captivating him with every turn of the page. One of his favourites, he thought to himself, that'll be one he'd have to return to.

The only problem was that it was almost over already. He wasn't that much of a fast reader, was he? Well, I guess it's easy to go quickly if you love it.

And love it he did, to the very last page. Wait, this is the last page, isn't it? Why are there three more?

He flipped through them, his eyes quickly widening as he read the last page.

A love letter? To... him?

“Is this in every edition?” He asked you shakily, looking to you for reassurance.

“Yeah?”

“That's...” He brought a hand to his mouth, covering his blushing cheeks trying to hide the tears welling in his eyes, “That's such a waste of paper...”

Russia

Frankly, Ivan doesn't care much what you do. The most exciting part of you being a writer to him is just that you'd need to spend plenty of time at home.

But he'd always read your work. (Especially rough drafts, he's really good at being blunt but not mean.) And as time goes on, he'll fall in love with your talent more and more. Despite his country's many famous writers, he thinks none of them stack up to you.

He wouldn't mind how much time you dedicate to your craft, but he'd make sure to take good care of you while you're writing. He's truly very worried about you withering away in that desk chair of yours...

“Oh, I absolutely loved the part where-“

Ivan had been ranting for hours, going over every single detail that had caught his eye. Every time he thought of something new, it would lead to another excited train of thought. But there was one thing they all had in common... he really loved one character.

”He's strong!“ He'd gush, ”He's kind, and loving, and I just want him to have a happy ending!“

You let him explain over and over again how much he looked up to this character, wanting to change to be more like him in every way.

But it wasn't until he calmed down a little bit that you felt it was time to reveal the truth.

”Yeah, you know... he's based on someone I know.“

”Really? Who? I must meet him!“ He clasps his hands together in excitement.

”You, you big dummy.“

He pauses for a moment, his smile fading. He looks upset for a moment, trying to figure out how.

”But... but I am none of those things.“

”You are to me. I mean, whenever I thought about you... I'd just write that character.“

He laughs awkwardly, “You are joking, right?”

“No, of course not. You're strong... and you're kind....” he shifts away from you, tears welling in his eyes, “You're loving... and... and I'll give you a happy ending, ok?”

Before you can react, he wraps his arms tightly around your waist, burying his face in your hair.

”Promise?“

”Promise.“

Germany

Ludwig would definitely love a S/O who writes. Mostly for one specific reason, though. Writers, well, they see the world in a different way. Whether that be in a more romantic, more objective, or more sympathetic way, he doesn't care. He wants to talk things through with someone like you.

He wouldn't be a total fanboy, but he'd still love your work. Although, he might not show it the way you want... it's hard for him not to criticize. He wouldn't be too harsh though!

He wouldn't mind how much you get sucked into your writing either. He knows what it's like to be dedicated to your craft, and he won't bother you too much.

Ludwig had never been an emotional person. Never, not once, throughout his many years was he truly moved to tears by fiction. Art depicting real life? Of course, many times. But he simply never found fiction as compelling as reality.

That was, of course, until he read your own works. Now, going through what you had so effortlessly created, he couldn't help tearing up at nearly every turn of events.

The way you were about to put him into the character's shoes without him even realizing, forcing him along the same journey they had gone through. It was... stunning, to say the least.

But when one of the characters began to fall in love, it was like nothing he had experienced before. Not because of any significant jump in quality, but just because... you had written it.

For a moment he sat in silence, pondering the book when he realized.

Was this what it felt like for you to fall in love with him?

It sent a chill down his spine. No, he didn't feel any differently, not at all. But... he had assumed you couldn't possibly love him as much as he loved you. Except... now?

Well, if this was how you had felt. He couldn't possibly let you go anytime soon.

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