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hrina · 4 years

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1923, Pt. I - The Day

PAIRING: Harry x Reader RATING: PG (for now) WORD COUNT: 7k REQUESTED: nope

hi everyone! here is PART 1 of my historical AU featuring harry as a groundskeeper/farmhand (i know that those two professions are slightly different but just let me have this ok snfjsjfnsdsf)

warning: parts of this fic will contain mature language and nsfw content. if it makes you uncomfortable, you absolutely do not have to read! take care of urselves <3

this series will be composed of three parts altogether, so i hope u all enjoy this first one! as always, please reblog the fics that you like! and don’t hesitate to send in feedback, i promise that we, as writers, always love to witness your reactions :) anywayyyy now that we’ve covered all the bases, go stupid with 1920s harry! can’t wait to hear ur thoughts 💌💌💌

~*~

July 5th, 1923

“What if he comes back with a beard that goes all the way down to his knees?”

You snort and shake your head. “He’s only been gone for a few months, Dee. I don’t think it’s possible for one’s whiskers to grow that quickly.”

Lydia shrugs, toying with the hem of her pale blue dress. “What if he met an evil witch in New York who cast a spell on him? And now he’s doomed to live out the rest of his life with horrifying facial hair!”

A laugh bubbles up in your throat. I don’t think that there are any witches in New York, you want to say, but you keep your mouth shut. Believing in magic is an integral part of childhood—you don’t want to be the one who takes that away from her. Soon enough, she’ll figure it out for herself.

You wind an elastic around your fingers, securing the end of her braid so that it doesn’t unravel. “That’s one,” you say, sighing quietly. “Turn to the side so that I can start on the other.”

She obeys, angling her head to the left. You gather her dark curls in a loose fist, skimming your nails against her scalp to collect every last strand.

Her hair has grown hot, absorbing the heat of the sun. It’s a beautiful day—there isn’t a single cloud in the sky. The two of you are sitting on the front steps of your home, looking out over the paved circular driveway and waiting excitedly for Andrew’s car to pull up to the iron gate. Realistically, you know that he won’t be here for at least another few hours, but Lydia insisted that you unwind outside to pass the time.

Somehow, she persuaded you to fashion her hair into twin braids. And though you had groaned at the initial request, here you are.

“He’s bringing a friend, you know,” your sister suddenly pipes up. “He told me in his letter.”

“Oh, really,” you say wryly. “And who exactly is this friend of his?”

“Martin Russell,” Lydia says, as though she’s reciting lines for a play. “He graduated from Harvard and then built his own company with nothing but a nickel to his name. Drew says that they’re trying to merge and become an empire.”

“An empire,” you echo, humouring her. “That sounds awfully intimidating, don’t you think?”

“Not to me,” she boasts, lacing her fingers together in her lap and squaring her shoulders. “Drew told me that I’m a businesswoman in the making.”

“That, you are,” you agree. You tie your remaining elastic around her second braid, fastening it in place. “All done.”

Lydia jumps to her feet, tugging down the material of her dress and turning to face you. She strikes a pose, placing one hand on her waist and lifting the other above her head. “How do I look?”

“Stunning,” you say, smiling up at her softly. “You’re the prettiest little girl I’ve ever seen.”

At that, she frowns.

“I’m not little!” she protests, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m thirteen and a half!”

“That’s little,” you say, laughing quietly. “Trust me. Once you get to my age, you’ll understand.”

“I’d rather be little than ancient,” she shoots back, sticking her tongue out good-naturedly. You scoff, bringing your fingers up to your forehead so that you can shield your eyes from the sun.

“Twenty-three is not ancient!” you say, baffled.

Lydia just giggles, twirling around a few times and watching the skirt of her dress fan out handsomely. Once she looks up, however, she freezes in her tracks. Your eyebrows knit together as she extends her arm in a frantic wave.

“Hi, Harry!”

You stiffen, reflexively following her gaze.

Harry is about thirty feet from the steps, crossing the driveway with a heavy bag of soil slung over his shoulder. In his other hand, he’s carrying a bucket filled with rusted gardening tools. You had been so caught up in your conversation with your sister that you failed to notice him. He’s making his way toward the pretty garden that separates the entry and exit of the driveway, tucked between the two strips of road and outlined with smooth grey stones.

You swallow forcefully when he pauses at the sound of Lydia’s voice. He turns, and you get a full view of his broad chest, tanned skin peeking out from underneath his white shirt. Brown trousers cover his legs, held up by matching suspenders. His black boots are speckled with dried mud—you guess that he’s just come from the stables in the back.

Upon catching sight of your sister, he smiles and begins to walk over. You shift quickly, trying to focus on something—anything—else.

“Good afternoon, little bug.” Harry’s tone is deep, slow, rough. It sends a shiver down your spine. “You alright?”

“Very much so,” Lydia replies, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Harry, how old are you?”

“Twenty-seven,” he replies.

Your sister glances over at you, her brows arched high on her forehead. “He’s practically primeval.”

“Dee!” Her name leaves your lips as an admonishment, but you can’t stifle your laugh.

She just giggles and turns back to Harry; he’s smirking slightly, watching your interaction unfold. “Are you going to be planting more roses?” Lydia asks, changing the subject.

“Yes.” He nods. He sets the bucket down and uses his free hand to realign the bag of soil on his shoulder. “Would you like to help?”

Lydia spins around to face you, her eyes wide and pleading. “Can I? Pretty please?”

“You’re supposed to take Artemis out for a ride,” you tell her, pursing your lips. “You know how antsy she gets when she’s cooped up all day.”

“Can’t you take her out?” Lydia asks, clasping her fingers together and bringing them up to her chest.

“Dee,” you start, shaking your head, “you know I don’t—I couldn’t possibly—”

“Harry,” she says suddenly, glancing down at him from over her shoulder. “Have you been in the stables today? Did you see Artemis?”

Harry hums dutifully. His eyes fall to you—you look away.

“And did she seem anxious at all?” Lydia presses expectantly, placing her hands on her hips.

He hesitates. “Well…no. But if you need to take her out, please do. I’m perfectly capable of planting by myself.”

“Nonsense,” she says, waving away his words. She turns back to you, jutting her bottom lip out into an imploring pout. “Can’t you ask someone else to do it? What about Penelope? Or Beth?”

“Beth’s preparing lunch,” you say, scoffing quietly. “Besides, she refuses to work in a messy environment. What makes you think that she’ll willingly go down to the stables, of all places?”

Lydia frowns, blowing out an annoyed sigh.

“Fine,” she acquiesces at last, rolling her eyes. She spins around, hopping down the remaining steps and fixing Harry with an accusatory glare. “I’ll be back in thirty minutes! Don’t you dare start without me!”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, little bug,” he replies, his lips twitching. You watch as Lydia takes off, her braids whipping in the wind as she sprints toward the side of the house. Once she disappears around the corner and out of your sight, you press your palms to your face, sighing loudly.

“She’s too much,” you mutter, mostly to yourself. Harry chuckles quietly from the bottom of the stairs; you freeze suddenly, remembering that he’s still there.

“I should—” You clear your throat, climbing to your feet. The light material of your dress tickles the skin just below your knees. “I should probably go. There’s still so much to do before Drew returns.”

You’re lying, of course. But he doesn’t need to know that.

“I’m sure there is.” Harry nods, running his fingers through his hair. The dark strands curl beautifully behind his ears. You allow yourself to study them for only a moment before diverting your gaze up to the sky.

“It’s hot—are you thirsty?” you ask, squinted eyes trained on miles of cerulean blue. “I can get Beth to bring you some water, if you’d like.”

“That’d be lovely,” he says. “Thank you.”

You simply hum in response. Your hands are abnormally clammy when you wipe them across the thin petticoat covering your thighs.

“Right,” you say, chancing a glance back down at him. “Well…have a nice day.”

“You too, miss.”

You pause, fiddling with the satin bow tied at the small of your back. “You—you don’t have to call me that, Harry,” you remind him, shaking your head. “How many times must I tell you?”

“My apologies,” he says, shrugging. “Force of habit.”

“It’s alright,” you say, intent on avoiding his gaze. “It just—it makes me feel as though I’m your—your—”

You break off, uncertain of how to proceed. Thankfully, though, Harry seems to understand. He chuckles softly, bowing his chin in agreement. “I know.”

Embarrassment festers in your chest, creeping up your neck and settling into your cheeks. You straighten, swallowing down the hard lump in your throat and retreating toward the door. “Lydia will be back soon, I’m sure. Good day.”

When Harry lifts his head again, his green eyes teem with an emotion that is somehow unrecognizable yet familiar all at once. The gruff timbre of his response makes your stomach churn nervously, flipping your breakfast of fresh fruits and toast. You hate it more than anything else in the world.

You don’t hate him, though.

No…you could never hate him.

“Good day, miss. Ah, I mean—” His face collapses into a grimace. He grunts at the thoughtless error, shaking his head. “—good day.”

~*~

It’s just past three in the afternoon when a car horn honks from outside. Lydia’s shrill squeal of excitement follows soon thereafter.

“Drew!” she cries. She rushes into the front foyer, white shoes squeaking against the polished floor. The bottom of her dress is dotted with faded spots of mud, a testament to her time spent in the garden earlier today.

“Dee,” you scold her, frowning. “I told you to change once you had finished planting.”

“Sorry!” she says, though her tone suggests that she isn’t sorry at all—not in the slightest. “Got distracted!”

She grabs your hand, and you yelp when she gives a mighty tug, towing you outside. You dust off the skirt of your dress, tucking your hair behind your ears and staring at the iron gate in the distance—it’s closing back up, metal spines glinting alluringly in the sunlight. On one side of the driveway, a bright red car rolls along the pavement, tires bumping merrily against the ground. Two silhouettes sit in the front; the man behind the wheel honks the horn again and extends his arm through the window, sweeping it upward in a triumphant greeting.

“Drew!” Lydia repeats. She charges down the front steps, her hands outstretched.

“Be careful!” you call after her, gnawing anxiously on your bottom lip.

The sun is still high in the sky. You crane your neck, surveying your surroundings. Heat rises from the driveway in murky waves, blurring the scenery. The large portico that spans nearly the entire width of your home is lined with bushels of potted plants—roses and peonies and daffodils. The lawn is bright and healthy, spearmint-green grass trimmed to perfection.

Something shifts in the periphery of your vision. Your head snaps to the left.

Harry is there, leaning against the corner of the house. He’s still sporting the same outfit as before, except it’s even more sullied, now. You’re not surprised. Gardening is grubby work, but gardening with Lydia…it’s a miracle that he’s not caked in mud, soiled from head to toe.

On cue, Harry reaches for a dirty rag dangling over his shoulder. He grasps the material with strong fingers, lifting it to his face and wiping down his forehead and his cheeks. You watch him closely, fascinated by the thin sheen of sweat sparkling on his skin.

As though sensing your stare, his eyes dart over, locking squarely with yours.

A soft gasp falls from your lips. You clench your jaw, incontrovertibly caught, and quickly look away.

As soon as Andrew steps out of the car, Lydia launches herself into his arms. He laughs gleefully, catching her with ease and spinning her around. He’s dressed in a cream-coloured suit, the collar of his periwinkle button-up peeking out beneath the lapels. His loafers are shiny and brown; a matching hat is perched atop his head, hiding his dark hair from view. The cap makes his ears stick out even more than usual—upon realising this, you smile.

“Look at how much you’ve grown!” Andrew grunts, setting Lydia back down on the ground. He puts his hand next to her shoulder, as though measuring her against an invisible wall. “The last time I saw you, I could’ve sworn you were only this tall.”

She beams before standing on her tiptoes and poking at his chest. “Well, maybe you shouldn’t be gone for so long next time!”

“Touché,” he chuckles, nodding in assent. His fingers find the ends of her braids, fiddling with them absentmindedly. “And who’s responsible for these pretty things, hm?”

“I think we both know the answer to that question,” you interject, making your way down the steps.

Andrew looks up at you and grins widely. You hold out your arms as you approach, and he accepts your invitation with a happy call of your name. He’s tall—a few inches over six feet, if you had to guess. You hug him tightly, burying your face into his shoulder and flattening your palms against his back.

“You look very handsome,” you tell him when you break apart. “I like this colour on you.”

He laughs sheepishly, scratching the nape of his neck. “Do you? I was on the fence about it, truthfully.”

“You shouldn’t have been—it looks good,” you assure him, smoothing your knuckles over his collar. “What took you so long? You’re late.”

“Stopped off at the cemetery to visit mum and dad,” he explains. “Changed their flowers, too—calla lilies, this time.”

You nod grimly, pursing your lips. “Mum’s favourite. Excellent choice.”

One of the car’s doors slams shut; the noise pulls your attention away from your brother. You peer past him, eyes landing on the man who has just exited the passenger side of the vehicle. His skin is a fair shade of olive, complimented beautifully by the beige jacket slung over his shoulders. Checkered brown pants cover his legs, and he’s clutching a sturdy briefcase in one hand. Andrew retreats, keeping a palm on the small of your back as he leads you over to his companion.

“Girls,” he says, tipping his cap, “this is my business partner, Martin Russell. Martin, these are my sisters.”

Martin bows his head. “Lovely to meet you both.”

“Are you tired, Mister Russell?” you ask. “It’s been a long journey, I’m sure.”

“I’m quite alright, miss, thank you,” he replies.

You don’t miss the way his amber eyes trail along your figure as he straightens up. You step back before you even have the chance to register what you’re doing.

“Hello!” Lydia—much to your relief—butts in, grabbing Martin’s hand and shaking it frantically. “I’m Lydia. Say, how would you describe your time at Harvard? Did you enjoy it? Was it a lot of work?”

Martin chuckles nervously, taken aback by your sister’s blathering. “Er,” he starts, “I—”

“Dee,” Andrew says, snickering quietly. “At least let the man get settled in before you begin interrogating him.”

“Sorry,” Lydia mumbles, shrinking away.

“That’s alright,” Andrew says, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. “You’ll have plenty of time to chat with him over dinner tonight, won’t you? Is it true that Beth is preparing my favourite?”

Your sister beams and nods. “I asked her to!”

“That’s very kind of you.” Andrew smiles. He looks up at the house, his forlorn gaze running over the plethora of pale bricks and clear windows. Abruptly, he pauses, squinting and lifting his fingers to shield his face from the sun. “Is that…?”

Your blood runs cold.

Andrew raises an arm high above his head. “Harry!”

And suddenly, staring down at the ground becomes your most pressing concern of the day. Harry makes his way over, a mountain of handsome grime. It’s unfair, really, you think. How does he manage to look so fetching, even beneath a thin layer of soot?

“How have you been?” Andrew asks, surging forward and shaking his hand. “It’s good to see you.”

“Likewise,” Harry replies, grinning. “I’ve been alright. Keeping the garden tame, keeping the stables clean.” He tosses a pointed look in Lydia’s direction. “Keeping this little bug out of trouble.”

“Hey!” she protests, crossing her arms over her chest.

Harry just chuckles.

“I’m happy to hear that,” Andrew says, nodding in satisfaction. “It’s nice knowing that there’s still a man around the house to take care of these two.”

You bristle at his words, scowling in mock-offense. “We are perfectly capable of taking care of ourselves, thank you very much.”

“I know.” Your brother shoots you a mischievous wink, and only then do you realise that he’s merely trying to get a rise out of you. You roll your eyes, though you can’t quell the fond smile that creeps onto your face.

“Let’s go in,” you suggest. “You can say hello to the rest of the staff, and then we can all wash up before dinner.”

Andrew hums in agreement. He tilts his head to the side, attention fixed almost exclusively on Harry. “You should come, H,” he says swiftly. “It’s been too long; we need to catch up.”

“Drew—” Your shoulders tense, and your nostrils flare. “I don’t think—”

“I’d love to,” Harry interrupts. He hooks his thumbs beneath the straps of his suspenders. “Thank you for the invite, Drew.”

“Of course.” Your brother nods before turning back to Lydia and Martin. “Shall we, then?”

The three of them push between you and Harry, climbing up the steps and disappearing through the front door. Inside, your sister unleashes a stream of fleeting questions: What’s it like in New York? Are the people nice? How was the food? Did you see the Statue of Liberty?

Gradually, her inquiries fade away. You stand there, chest inflated with a held breath and fingers fidgeting anxiously with the skirt of your dress. The sun beats down against the crown of your head, triggering a mild fit of dizziness.

Or maybe that’s just Harry.

“So…,” he begins, blowing out an awkward sigh. “What shall we be eating tonight?”

You scoff, unable to help yourself. “You accepted the offer without knowing exactly what it was?”

“Should I know?”

You swallow heavily, pinning your gaze on the scarlet vehicle still parked only a few feet away. “Minestrone,” you say. The word is clipped. “Drew loves it.”

“I’ve had it,” he tells you. “Beth always saves me a bit if there’s some left over.”

You nod wordlessly.

“Are you upset with me?” Harry asks, digging his hands into his pockets. You’re so taken aback by his question that your head snaps toward him, brows cinched together in confusion.

“What?” The question falls from your lips before you can blink. “No, of course not. Why would you think that?”

“You won’t even look at me,” he hums, shrugging casually.

“I’m looking at you right now.”

“Not before, you weren’t.”

“I—” you break off, pursing your lips and squeezing your eyes shut. You pinch the bridge of your nose between two fingers, trying to keep yourself composed. “I have to go.”

“As do I.”

“Right.” You avoid his gaze. “Goodbye, then.” You whip around, hurrying up the steps.

“Goodbye,” Harry replies from behind you. The smile in his voice is painfully conspicuous. “See you at dinner.”

~*~

You’ve just pinned a final clip into your hair when Lydia comes barrelling through your bedroom door with no warning whatsoever. You’ve long since given up on reprimanding her for it. She always forgets to knock.

“Can you button me up?” she requests, spinning around and exposing her bare back.

“Did you run down the hall like that?” you ask, laughing at her eccentricity.

“Yes,” she says matter-of-factly. “But don’t worry—I made sure that the coast was clear.”

“Brilliant. Your reconnaissance skills are truly a sight to behold.”

She scoffs, smiling at you from over her shoulder. “Are you going to help me, or not?”

“Patience, Dee,” you say. You turn back to your own reflection, twirling your finger through a loose strand of hair and letting it fall picturesquely against your temple. “There.”

Her feet scuffle absentmindedly against the floor as you approach her. She’s wearing a pastel pink dress with short, puffy sleeves that cinch at her skinny biceps. The bottom hem of her petticoat tickles her knees, which strain against transparent white tights. You remember wearing something nearly identical when you were her age. The outfit isn’t a hand-me-down, though. The stitching is brand-new, and the fabric is crisp and fresh, like it’s never once seen the inside of a washtub.

“It’s nice having Drew back home, wouldn’t you agree?” you ask your sister. She squeals when the nail of your index finger ghosts playfully up her spine.

“It is,” she concurs as you begin to fasten the clasps at the small of her back. “I’ve missed him terribly.”

“So have I,” you hum, pressing your mouth into a thin line. “There are some things that I could do without, though. Like that comment he made about us not being able to take care of ourselves.”

“He was only teasing,” Lydia says. “You know that. Besides—” She shrugs, puckering her lips idly. “—he was right. Harry does take care of us, even though we may not always need it.”

At that, you pause.

“‘Harry takes care of us’?” you parrot, your brows knitting together. “What do you mean by that?”

“Well,” she starts, as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Who trims the lawn and tends to the flowers early in the morning? And who cleans out the stables when they get messy?”

“We pay him to do those things, Dee,” you say, shaking your head slightly. “It’s his job.”

“I suppose you’re right,” she agrees. “But he does so much more, don’t you think?”

You say nothing. She takes your silence as an invitation to elaborate.

“For example,” she says—declares, “he never gets irritated with me whenever I prattle on about my day.”

“Oh.” You smirk. “So you are aware of your tendency to talk too much.”

“Not funny,” she deadpans. You giggle.

“He always lets me follow him around whenever I get bored,” she adds, her eyes glazing over. “And he likes to make sure that you’re alright, too.”

Your fingers fumble with the last button at the top of her dress. You pray that she doesn’t detect the sudden blunder. “How so?” you probe, trying to keep your voice level.

“You know,” she indicates, even though you most certainly do not. “Like today, as we were planting the roses. He asked me how you were doing—if you were eating well, if you were getting enough sleep. Those are fairly standard inquiries regarding one’s wellbeing, I’d say. Do you disagree?”

“No,” you murmur, gnawing on your painted bottom lip. “I don’t.”

You finish your task, fastening the final clasp on her dress and smoothing your fingers down her sides. “There you go,” you say softly, your throat dry. “All done.”

“Thank you,” she singsongs, twirling around to face you. She studies you closely, soaking in the black floor-length gown cascading down your figure. “You look beautiful,” she says, her tone sincere. “Martin’s going to be utterly speechless when he sees you!”

A weak chuckle falls from your mouth. “Shall we go down?” you suggest, wrapping a loose arm around her shoulders and guiding her toward the door.

“Yes, please,” she replies. She places a palm over her stomach, features crumpling into a theatrical scowl. “I’m famished.”

You smile.

And as you exit your bedroom with your sister in tow, you realise that she may have been wrong about which man you’re hoping to impress.

~*~

Dinner is full of surprises, many of which present themselves in the form of Martin Russell. It’s astonishing, you think, because the man who had barely spoken ten words upon first meeting you is now commanding the table at which you’re sat. Andrew is perched at the head, with Martin just off to his right. Lydia is next to him, and you’re directly across from him. And that means that Harry…

Harry is right next to you.

You do everything in your power to avoid looking in his direction. Thankfully, it proves to be easier than expected, considering the fact that Martin has been droning on about his company for the past fifteen minutes. You don’t believe that anyone else has managed to squeeze in a single word.

There’s wine, candles, and the finest china your family owns. But all of that pales in comparison to the man sitting beside you.

Harry cleans up exquisitely. Upon first entering the dining room, you were shocked to find him in a black tuxedo with a white bowtie resting just below his throat. It appears that he even combed and gelled his hair, though some strands have fallen free from the style and now hang down over his forehead. You don’t mind it, though—if anything, it’s a hint of the man you know peeking through. And the man you know is handsome—alarmingly so.

Drew had whistled as you descended the stairs. He then offered you his arm, patting your hand and telling you that you looked wonderful. Martin hadn’t been able to control his reaction, his eyes raking up and down your figure like you were a lavish meal on a silver platter. It had taken everything in you to hide your distaste.

But Harry…

Harry hadn’t said a word. He’d fixed his face perfectly, showing no sign of emotion whatsoever. You’d been hoping for something—anything—indicative of his opinion toward your outfit, but you observed no such consequence. He’d only acknowledged you with a curt nod before settling into his chair and pointedly looking away.

And now, here you are—a bowl of minestrone in front of you, a wineglass inches away from your lips, and an irritated groan simmering on the back of your tongue. Martin’s voice is growing more and more irksome by the minute.

“And then, it was as though they couldn’t get enough—”

“I had assured them that I would bring in at least twice the revenue—”

“It was incredible! I’ve never seen anything like it—”

You polish off the rest of your wine, reaching across the table for the half-empty bottle. No one notices as you pour a bit more of the alcohol into your glass, sneakily surpassing what would be considered appropriate for a lady to consume. You set the bottle back down with a silent huff, lifting the goblet to your lips and letting your attention wander.

You freeze when you catch Harry staring at you out of the corner of his eye. The edges of his mouth are curled up ever-so-slightly, nearly imperceptible. Heat rushes to your cheeks; you gulp down a large sip of wine, averting your gaze.

You deposit your drink onto the pristine white tablecloth, glaring intently at your food. You can feel Harry’s playful stare burning a hole into the side of your head; you suspect that he’s trying his hardest not to laugh.

Your soup has cooled substantially. You shovel a spoonful past your lips, swallowing it with a considerable amount of difficulty. Everyone else has nearly finished their dinner, save for Martin. You want to thrust his face into his bowl—maybe then, he’ll finally shut up.

You lift your wine back up to your mouth. The action draws Martin’s focus. His eyes flit down to your minestrone, and then jump to the other empty dishes around the table. At last, he seems to realise the disparity between your meals, because a small, sheepish smile creeps onto his face.

“Lord,” he chuckles, settling into the cushion of his chair. “You all must’ve been ravenous. I’ve hardly touched my food.”

“It’s hard to eat whilst boasting, I’d imagine,” you mutter into your glass.

A loud, hacking cough breaks you out of your little bubble. Your head snaps to the left. Harry is choking on his own wine, chiseled cheeks growing red with exertion. He curls his fingers into a firm fist, pounding a few times on his chest to dislodge the liquid stuck in his windpipe. Reflexively, you place a hand on his arm, your forehead wrinkling in concern.

“You alright, H?” Andrew asks, leaning forward over his plate.

“Fine!” Harry croaks. He makes an indiscernible gesture with his hand, waving your brother’s worries away. “I’m fine, thanks. Just went down the wrong way, that’s all.”

He coughs again, burying the sound into the crook of his elbow.

You watch him with troubled eyes. When your gazes lock, only then do you realise that your palm is still splayed out over his bicep. You pull away quickly, recoiling as though you’ve just passed your knuckles through an open flame. Harry’s body rumbles as he clears his throat. He hooks two fingers into the collar of his button-up, loosening it from where it’s secured tightly around his neck.

Lydia is talking, now, but her declarations fade into the background. You wish that you could concentrate on them—you really do—but you have more far more pressing matters at hand.

Like Harry shooting you a swift, secretive smile, and every piece of the puzzle clicking perfectly into place.

His unassuming sip…your quiet quip…

He’d heard you.

You sit back in your seat, your ears ringing. Harry places one of his hands on the wooden arm of his chair; his knuckles flex painstakingly. Across the table, Andrew and Lydia have resumed their lively conversation. Martin scarfs down the rest of his soup, trying to catch up. The candlesticks perched between your plates melt slowly, a mess of waxy dribbles and drops.

Somewhere in the deep recesses of your mind, you become aware that—for the first time tonight—no one is paying you any attention. The realisation makes you feel giddy, drunk on power and anonymity.

Or maybe that’s just the wine.

You peer down at Harry’s nails, studying them absentmindedly—they’ve been scrubbed clean.

And before you can even begin to register what on earth you’re doing, you reach out, tracing the veins on the back of his hand with one finger. Harry tenses; his concentration immediately falls to where you’re touching him. When you finally muster enough confidence to meet his gaze, you find him watching you with wide, awestruck eyes.

A small part of you is smug—that’s the reaction you’d been searching for at the beginning of the evening. That’s how you’d wanted him to look at you when you made your entrance, wrapped up in a pretty black gown and layers of opaque red lipstick.

You cease your movements and retract your arm, tucking it back against your side as you turn your interest elsewhere. In the periphery of your vision, Harry has pinned you with an unwavering, stunned expression, his body rooted in place. Despite the rapid thumping of your heart, you keep your gaze trained ahead and your chin held high, pride swelling in your abdomen like a hot-air balloon.

Lydia laughs at something that Andrew says. Martin tugs haughtily at the lapels of his suit. You release a heavy exhale and nudge your bowl a few inches away from your chest, completely sated.

~*~

Once everyone retires to their rooms for the evening, you wait approximately an hour before slipping out. You’re light on your feet, sneaking past Lydia’s quarters and the guestroom that was given to Martin for the duration of his stay. He snores—quite loudly, too. You can hear him as though he’s right next to you, even from where you’re hovering out in the hall.

You make your way down the spiral staircase, heading toward the large double doors leading to the backyard. You quickly tug on a delicate pair of slippers before sneaking out into darkness’ cool embrace. Midnight is only a few minutes away.

You pull your wool cardigan a bit tighter around your torso. The hem of your silk nightgown is shorter than that of a standard dress. The wind nips teasingly at your knees, making you shiver. Blades of grass tickle your ankles as you march toward the stables. There’s a single light hanging above the entrance, bathing the wooden panes in a faint yellow glow. Green grass gives way to dry soil and the odd piece of straw littered across the dirt.

Inside the stables, only two of the six pens are occupied. The first one houses Apollo, Andrew’s stallion. His skin is like chestnuts, his mane the colour of the sun. You’re sure that your brother will take him out early tomorrow morning—you doubt that he was able to find many docile steeds in the bustling streets of New York.

You bypass Apollo completely, stopping in front of your horse—Artemis.

She’s a sight to behold, white skin and jet-black hair. She reminds you of the first snowfall of the season: crisp and pure, untainted by footprints and pollution and everything else in between. She’s been your partner in crime for the past decade, even though you’ve spent the last few years simply guiding her along with your feet on the ground and a hand tangled in her reins.

Somewhere beneath the rational layer of your brain, you like to think that she sympathizes with your hesitation to get back on the saddle.

“Psst!” you hiss, leaning against the wooden gate of her pen. “Artemis! Come here, my love.”

She lifts her head up from the floor, chewing on a handful of hay. You dig your fingers into the material of your cardigan, producing a sugar cube from the depths of your left pocket. Artemis’ nostrils flare as you hold it out in your palm; she trots over happily, drawn to the sweet treat.

“Haven’t come to visit you in a few days,” you murmur as she dips her mouth against your hand. You stroke your knuckles down the side of her neck, petting her softly. “I’m sorry about that. Things have been so chaotic back at the house. I’ve barely gotten a moment to breathe.”

She whinnies quietly.

“Did you miss me?” you ask. When she nuzzles her nose into your arm, you smile. “I missed you, too. I thought that maybe you were developing a preference for Lydia. But that’s not possible, is it? I’m your favourite.”

Someone clears their throat from behind you. You gasp and whip around, hands flying to your chest. Your gaze locks onto an amused smirk and a pair of impish green eyes, and your stomach lurches uneasily.

“Hello,” you stammer, air caught in your lungs.

“Hello,” Harry replies.

He’s still dressed in his attire from dinner, though his appearance is significantly more relaxed. He’s abandoned the white bowtie and undone the top two buttons of his shirt, allowing his collarbones to peek out from beneath the pallid fabric. The cuffs of his suit have been rolled up, and his hair has completely fallen from its acute coif. Glossy strands tumble down around his temples, curling in a way that makes you want to reach out and touch them.

“What are you doing here?” you ask. You hope that he doesn’t hear the twinge of embarrassment in your voice. He caught you in the middle of a one-sided conversation with your horse, after all.

Harry holds up his hand. There’s a pale pink envelope clutched between his fingers.

“Post,” he says, like it’s the only reasonable explanation. It is, you suppose. “I was on my way home when I spotted you.”

Home. The little cottage just down the trail—the groundskeeper’s residence. It was built years ago, only a few acres away from the main house. You pass it sometimes when you take Artemis out for a walk. More often than not, you’ve found yourself studying its red bricks and white windowsills, yearning for a peek inside.

“Are you alright?” Harry asks, wrenching you from your thoughts.

“Yes.” You nod, blinking twice. “Your letter—,” you say, desperate to change the subject. “—who is it from?”

And you immediately want to sink into the earth, because it’s none of your bloody business, is it? You have no right to be poking around and questioning him about his personal life. A slight grimace tugs at the corners of your lips, smearing a pained expression across your features.

But Harry just hums, unperturbed by your inquiry.

“My sister,” he tells you, shrugging. “She writes to me from Paris.”

He has a sister?

“Paris,” you echo dumbly. “France?”

His lips twitch. You want to set yourself on fire.

“Does she like it?”

“I think so,” he says, watching you with twinkling eyes. “She wants me to visit her soon, but I’m—” He hesitates, looking away. “Well, I won’t bore you with the details.”

And though he hadn’t let the words slip out, you know exactly what he meant to say.

She wants me to visit her soon, but I’m stuck here.

A pang of guilt ricochets through your chest. Blood thunders in your ears as you direct your attention to the ground, kicking at the dirt below your slippers. You suddenly realise that whilst Harry is fully clothed, you’re dressed in nothing but a flimsy silk nightgown. You wrap your arms around your torso, pulling the sleeves of your sweater over your knuckles.

“Er—”

You glance up at Harry when the awkward noise falls from his mouth. “Yes?”

He lifts his chin and gestures toward Artemis, who has returned to her tasty pile of hay. “She belongs to Lydia, does she not?”

“No, actually,” you reply. “Lydia takes her out, typically, but…she’s mine.”

“I see.” His face renders an innocent type of curiosity, one eyebrow cocked high on his forehead. “Do you ride?”

You balk, nearly choking on your own saliva. “I beg your pardon?”

And just like that, the innocence is gone. Harry’s features melt into a portrait of wicked mirth. His irises glint roguishly as he fixes you with a shrewd, crafty smirk.

“The horse,” he says slowly, his tone ripe with amusement. “Do you ride?”

“Oh,” you croak. “Sorry, I—”

Your nostrils flare as you avert your eyes, too humiliated to meet his gaze. He’s aware of the way in which you interpreted his question. He understands why you were so appalled. He knows exactly where your mind went.

“No,” you answer quickly. “I don’t. Not anymore, at least.”

Harry tilts his head to the side, confused.

“How long has it been?” he asks. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you mount.”

“I stopped a few months before you came to work for us,” you say, playing with a loose thread hanging from your cardigan. After a beat of silence, you add, “There was…an incident. I fell.”

“Oh.” He recoils slightly, taken aback by your revelation. “My apologies. I didn’t mean to pry.”

“It’s alright.” Your feet scuffle against the dusty ground. “Sometimes, I catch myself longing for it, but I just—” You shrug. “I can never seem to get back on.”

“I understand.” His response is excruciatingly sincere.

You watch him out of the corner of your eye. He takes an experimental step forward, gauging your reaction. When you don’t make a move to retreat, he does it again. You chew on the inside of your cheek as he draws nearer, and your heart stutters beneath your ribs when he angles his body to the side, offering you his arm.

“May I walk you back?”

Is there a hint of fondness in his voice, or is it merely your imagination?

“You may,” you concede weakly.

You slide your hand into the crook of his elbow and bid Artemis goodnight. The two of you stroll back up to the estate in silence, enjoying the tranquility of the evening. The wind whistles through the thicket of trees lining the edge of the property. Crickets chirp loudly, seeking shelter between blades of grass. Harry’s body is unbelievably warm, radiating heat despite the slight chill carried by nightfall.

You release his arm once you reach the steps of the back porch. He studies you carefully as you climb the first two stairs, a divot digging into the space between his brows.

All of a sudden, you pause, brought to a standstill by an invisible string. You spin back around, looking down and finding a pair of bright jade eyes in the dark.

“Goodnight, Harry,” you say softly, hands dropping to your sides.

Quicker than a bolt of lightning, he seizes your fingers between his. A faint gasp leaves your mouth when he bows forward and presses a gentle kiss to your knuckles. Harry peers up at you innocuously, pulling his lips away from your skin after a long moment of stillness.

“Goodnight, miss,” he says. The words flow over you like molasses, viscous and warm and inconceivably sweet. “Sleep tight.”

~*~

PART II: The Week

PART III: The Month

if you’re enjoying this series so far, please consider donating to my ko-fi! thank you bunches <3

#harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut #there's not a single curse word in this fic holy shit.............i think this is a first for me snfsjsdnsfsjfsn #ANYWAY i hope u like it!!!!! i'll be here if yall wanna chat after lol #farmhandrry #harry writing

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lasquadrasfuckhouse · 3 years

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Okay I have a semi serious ask: how would melone react to a partner who has genophobia but also a raging libido and genuinely wants to be with him but the phobia stops it? I feel like out of everyone in La Squadra, he'd be the best equipped for it

-✨ anon

oh he would definitely be the best equipped for it

melone with a partner with genophobia (phobia of sex) 🍈

HEADS UP: i don't go into detail about like anything that could've caused the phobia but i do discuss going to therapy. keep urselves safe and healthy i love u and melone does too ❤️

18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI

his heart hurts for you. it makes him so sad that you feel so afraid of an experience you genuinely and desperately want. sex is so beautiful and natural, seeing someone he cares about feeling barred from that by their own fear just kills him

first of all, he will offer his support, do anything and everything for them. he cares about them and he will be there for whatever they need of him. he wants you to be open with each other, so he'll want to ask a few questions about your boundaries or what not but will make sure it's a conversation (more like continuous conversations) that ur in a good headspace for. he thanks you every time you tell him something new or communicate with him about it

second of all, he encourages them to seek therapy, cause that's what's gonna get you through phobias. and therapy can be fucking scary and hard but anything you need to get you there, he will do it, and he makes sure you know how brave you are.

he'll give you a ride to or from therapy on his bike if you'd like to. if you're feeling sensitive after a difficult session he will do whatever you need, whether that's giving you space (he'll worry but he knows it's necessary) or affection (he has that in droves)

he's excited for you and knows that you're excited too (both in the physical horny way and the emotional claiming this facet of yourself for yourself way) but he doesn't want you to push yourself either. we have all the time in the world to make love, tesoro. there's no need to rush.

he'd be super interested to learn about the methods and stuff you're utilizing with therapy if you're down to talk about it, cause then he can also keep that in mind so ur on the same wavelength ya kno

he's very creative and he will figure out and offer things u can try within ur needs and limits. would you be comfortable trying out phone sex or sexting? how about video? is it touching/being touched that you're more afraid of, or seeing/being seen? are there certain measures he should take? any acts that make you more or less comfortable?

it might be a slow process but that's okay, and every little thing feels so fucking special. the first time he hears you moan, he almost cums instantly, because you're so hot and you've worked so hard to get there and he's just so crazy for everything about you

you control the pace and lead the way. if you're more comfortable with touching him first, he'll whine and moan for everything you give him and tell you how incredible you are in every way. you could just like, exist in his proximity and he'd be happy. when you take his hands and guide him over your clothes, and then under them, he thinks he's died and gone to heaven

hell, he could cum untouched just from getting you off

he goes very slow and is always checking in. do you like this? is it everything you've dreamed of, amore? you're positively delicious. do you want more? i'll give you anything.

he might get a little emotional with you from time to time because he's so happy to see you thriving and thrilled that you want to have this with him

if you'll let him, he'll shower you with praise and affection for just about everything. how good you feel, how good you taste, the sounds you make, your face, the way you breathe or how your thighs tremble when you're close, the way you move your hips, melone could babble on and on about how fucking amazing you are and mean every word of it

and the firsts are special but he cherishes every moment like it's the first time, whether they're moaning or letting him hear/watch them pleasure themself, hearing/watching him, they're touching him or he's touching them. he's convinced that every time they cum an angel gets its wings and it never gets old, even when you get to a point where you're fucking enough to finally satisfy your libido, melone is always thinking about how damn special you are

the MOST tender with aftercare. give you cuddles and kisses, clean you up (if you're down to shower together he'd love that, thinks existing nakedly is very emotionally healthy and might help you feel comfortable), fetch anything u might want, play with your hair and ask if you had fun, what you really liked, is there anything you wanted to talk about, anything that could've been better, stuff to think about or work on, just wanna chat about whatever instead? very very doting

all new things to try are thoroughly discussed beforehand (as it should always be but he wants to be very careful) and you're probably the one to bring up adventurous stuff at first, everyone knows he'll try anything once and has a very wide range of tastes but he doesn't wanna throw u headfirst into kinky shit. ur leading the way!

melone is such a good pick for a partner in this because he's so open, understanding, creative, he isn't shy about sex and finds it so fascinating and wonderful. he's a huge support for you in letting go of your fears and he's happy to be there with you every step of the way

#🥺#genophobia -/#phobias -/#anxiety -/#melone #melone x reader #la squadra #vento aureo #ask #✨ anon

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dexrlybel0ved · 3 years

Text

for parents with mentally ill children, written by a mentally ill girl :

these r some things (not everything; pls ask ur own child for anything else if they r comfortable and/or do ur own research) that i think r important for parents to kno :

although u may not understand ur child’s symptoms, pls try to make an effort to. it’s something that i appreciate quite a lot. this also goes for symptoms that u may find do not make sense to u, or u find irritating. remember: this is not abt u, n if u want ur child to possibly learn to manage their symptoms, u have to get over urself n b understanding.

if ur child opens up to u abt smth, pls, pls, pls try to not get defensive or invalidate them. i cannot emphasize the importance of this one enough. even if what they r saying seems odd to u, or scary, implies that u have done smth wrong (which u very well may have), or u for some reason don't believe them (this is another thing that is super shitty of a parent to do), pls listen and ask encouraging and thoughtful questions. pls refrain from getting angry, being dismissive, playing the victim, or overall just being u supportive. even if u have done smth wrong, pls try to b open minded and a good listener. chances r if ur child has decided to come to u, they r rly struggling, n opening up abt mental health is super, super difficult. pls respect n consider that as u formulate some kind of response.

it may b extremely appreciated by ur child if u do research in terms of mental health as well as symptoms of whatever disorder they may have so u may understand them better. it may also help to do so even if they have not opened up to u so u may spot warning signs of an issue going on. this way, u could have the opportunity to ask ur child if they r okay n if they need anything.

don't expect ur child to tell u everything. some stuff can b super hard to tell ppl abt, especially if it is smth that they fear will make ppl-including u-look at them differently. many may also fear that smth bad will happen or become true if they speak whatever it is aloud. in addition, if they r in some kind of therapy, do not demand information from either ur child or their therapist. it's hard enough to tell a therapist smth, nevermind ppl a child is quite close to, n thus ppl whose opinion matters to them immensely (most of the time). if u r curious (which is not a crime, btw!), u can gently ask for anything they'd like to share, all the while ensuring they r aware that they r by no means obligated to tell u things they may not want to share.

if u r worried that ur child is at risk of causing any harm to themselves, whether it b some kind of self harm, remember:

this is most likely outside the realm of things u can adequately n properly deal with. since u will b alarmed n afraid, u may react in an unhelpful way, i.e. becoming angry, yelling, etc. not only this, however; u will b quite biased as this is ur own child. pls consider reaching out to professionals so that ur child will get the proper care they need. even tho this will b hard for both parties, it is most likely the best course of action.

in cases of self harm, if u feel that this is smth u can deal w at home/by urselves, pls reconsider doing the thing that most parents do: removing all items used to harm oneself. it may b helpful to think of sh as being akin to a drug addiction (which it is); quitting cold turkey does not often do the trick, n often leads to a relapse or use of unsafe materials. therefore, harm reduction is much more important: ensuring the materials ur child uses r safe/clean, providing bandages n disinfectants, encouraging ur child to talk to u abt this, n providing them the opportunity to come to u for a ride to the hospital for further treatment should it b necessary.

be mindful of the way u speak abt mental health issues, n just the things u say in general. if u r speaking abt someone else's mental health in a way that stigmatizes it further, or portray mental illness as shameful/demonize it, doing so may b the difference between ur child asking for help or spiraling further on their own. in addition, if u r aware of ur child's triggers, pls remember to attempt to avoid triggering them. even tho we all make mistakes, n we r bound to mess up at times, if u do so too much, not only r u not acting as a parent should, u r also indirectly communicating to ur child that u do not care, or do not feel they r valid.

n last but certainly not least: love them. b there for them. n make sure they kno just how much u care. once again, this is most definitely not everything, but these r just some things that i personally feel r a good way to make us children feel safe around parents <3

#a bit of a vent #actuallyocd #actuallymentallyill #mental illness #mental health #parenting #parents #teenagers #vent #tw sh #tw suicide #tw drug mention #EXTREMELY long post so sry abt that #hopefully someone sees this #bc more parents need to kno how b helpful

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heliophilial · 3 years

Text

𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒖𝒔 . (a tbz 3rd year anniversary special)

genre :angst ,fluff (more of brotherhood)

group and member involved :the boyz ,all members are involved !

between :the whole group and thebs hello cuties <3

warnings :u may or may not cry but i cried typing this so gluck ig HWUJDF

word count :844 (i didn’t count my notes to thebs and the boys in)

brief description :when all seems dull ,when times are grey ,it is only when we are together that the world gains its colour .theres no one else like you ,no one else like us ,theres really nothing like us .

playlist :literally just nothing like us by justin bieber like a 1 hr loop or smth ,depends on how long u take to read this

before you continue to read also please note that ‘we’ refers to thebs here !!

quiet .peaceful .light snores of the members filled the dorm .the room filled with nothing but darkness .black shade hovering over the members faces .they had just wrapped up a little celebration in the living room with cakes and party poppers to celebrate their 3rd year together not long ago .shortly after wrapping up the party ,they had fallen asleep on the couch ,all lying on one another comfortably .

sangyeon slowly blinked his eyes open .he rubbed his eyes and slowly unwrapped eric's hands from his waist and placed chanhee's legs that were on his lap onto the space of the sofa that he had previously occupied .careful to not wake the members up .

he looked at the members' sleeping forms and smiled ,glad that they were finally able to catch some rest after their packed schedules .he walked to the kitchen to fetch himself a glass of water and at the corner of his eyes ,he spotted a glimmering light .he placed his glass down and approached the light that was so very alluring for some reason .

there on the shelf of where all their awards have been placed on ,laid a book with its contents blinding his eyes with its bright light .he inspected the book for a while before proceeding to open it with caution .

inside the book ,there were sketches of the key moments the members have shared together such as their debut stage ,their first ever music show award as well as their first ever full length album promos .as he flipped to the first page that displayed their first moment together ,there were harsh winds blowing past him and a force from the book pulled him towards the page and right into it .

he looked at the 12 boys on stage ,introducing themselves for the first time to the whole wide world .and he looked at them with pride and honour in his eyes ,the boys' who had no idea what being idols would be like for themselves ,clueless of what the future had in store for them .he looked at them from the bottom of the stage and sucked in a breath ,"wow we've really grown a lot ."he thought .

after they had introduced themselves as a group and individually ,the sight in front of him suddenly pauses and his attention gets diverted to the door to his right .

he walked into the room .

he gets transported to the very first time they cried together ,over the pain ,over the stress ,over the tiredness of it all .

he looked at the 12 boys shedding tears of pain .he swallowed the lump in his throat ,the feelings of helplessness ,confusion ,fear coming washing over him once again as he sees the very moment they broke down .

tears flows down his face ,and that my friends are tears of the caretaker ,the leader ,the person whom the members depend on ,lee sangyeon .

as heavy as the weight he carried ,the tears poured like a fierce and powerful waterfall .

and then the door right next to him yet again invites him to step into yet another memory .

he steps onto the stage of road to kingdom ,and as he looks ahead the ending poses of all their road to kingdom stages are there right in front of him .all the members still and not moving ,just statures .

he walks down the long stretch ,as he looks at the legacy they left behind ,the power and strength ,the confidence from these stages that the members have gained progressively with each stage .

as he finally reaches the other end of the stage ,the screen opens up to when they had their 'the stealer'promotions .where they had their wins .

his smile grew wider and wider as he walked through all the performances they have done for the stealer and all the trophies they have gotten from the era .

and finally he reached another door .a door with a question mark on it .

he opens the door ,to pitch black .

darkness ,just darkness .and the fear in sangyeon grew ,"what does this darkness mean ?what is it gonna be for us ?"

suddenly , the door creaks open to reveal the members one by one .

sangyeon looks up at them and suddenly the fear stops ,hes no longer afraid as he looks into their eyes .

they ran to him and extended their hands out to him .

he proceeds to embrace all the members into a big tight group hug .drops of colour starts to paint the room ,slowly forming a picture showing the many stages they have performed ,every milestone theyve achieved ,the concerts ,every moment with their fans ,every moment together ,every vlives .everything starts out when theyre together .

we opened the door carefully ,proceeding to join our hands together and form a circle surrounding the boys .as we cried tears of joy and pride ,we hugged each other as well and this is when we knew

"theres nothing like us ,theres nothing like you and me ,together through the storm ."

for thebs

thank you for being one of the most caring ,loving ,welcoming and inclusive fandoms ever .to all the thebs all around thw world ,thank you for supporting them and giving them love as well .i love yall <3 lets protect them at all costs ♡

for my beloved boys

hello my loves ❤ik its 12 am in korea already but i still just wanna type this for you !so there's really a lot of things i want to say to you ,im sure many of us have already said whatever im about to say but i will still say it to remind you or to let you know that ,yes ,you do make me feel that way ,you do make me feel those kinds of feelings .

i dont know how ,like no nothing at all can show how grateful i am towards you .i cant tell you how many times there were this year when i just got beaten up (mentally)to the point that i couldnt even have the energy to stand back up and continue life normally .but whenever these times come ,ik i just know even though youre not here physically ,i know you want me to stop crying ,i know you would want me to stop hurting myself and i know you would stay with me even when my walls come crashing down onto me .you made me feel the greatest kind of happiness possible ,i never knew that this feeling was even possible to feel until i met you .

there was never a moment when i regretted stanning you ,supporting you and giving you all my heart and soul ,my energy ,everything .i just want you to know that you are so special ,so wonderful ,so incredibly talented ,so hardworking ,so beautiful ,just the most amazing bunch of people ever .ive never seen people so passionate ,so ready to help ,so genuinely loving and caring towards the people who love them .

i know its hard to be an idol ,and i know that its especially hard to even speak your mind ,speak what you wanna say without having the media chase you down .but i just wanna let you know that we are and will be by your sides forever .no matter what happens ,im sure ,very sure u know that u can run right back into our arms like how uve always welcome us back into urs .u are the people who made me feel the most bizarre feelings ,beyond happiness ,beyond joy ,beyond euphoria ,beyond all the feelings ive ever felt in my whole 16 years of living .

we are so proud of you of how far youve come ,how much youve accomplished .im so so proud ,so so happy to be able to call myself a fan of yours ,a theb ,someone who so dearly supports you .and i really hope you know that .i would wish for there to never be an end to this .for all i know ,im in this shit for life ,forever ,till the end .

im just so happy because of you ,i feel joy ,i see the light in life ,the reasons to live ,so much more prominent to me now because of you .there will come one day ,when we can finally see each other face to face and i can finally shout out to you ,my words of gratitude ,my words of thanks and my words filled with love and affection for you and just see your faces .but till then ,please take good good care of urselves ,rest well and eat well okay !we're always here ,remember !❤

its really been a rocky and crazy ride these 3 years ,you my friend ,are indeed the best character i can ever invite into my story 💜i hope youre sleeping tight ,i love you so much more than words can ever describe .with that ,happy 3 years to my favourites ,my loves ,my bbs ,my shining lights ,my everything ,happy 3 years to the boyz ❤💜💙💛 - berinne

#deobiwritersnet #the boyz #theb #deobi #the boyz angst #the boyz fluff #happytheboyzday #the boyz imagines

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idk-my-aesthetic · 4 years

Text

Ask Game

Tagged by: @teetletottle !!! ty for the tag!!

Instructions: tag 10 followers you wanna get to know better :)

Name: Blue! or Pluto! i go by both :)

Gender: pangender nb? i thinks? gender is hard..... i go by any pronouns tho!

Star sign: capricorn? im born jan 10 2003. tho i’ve been told im not very capricorn like and that im probably like my moon sign but idk enough about astrology to tell....

Height: 5′ 5′’ i think?? i don’t pay too much attention to my hight... on a related note even though i’m average hight i have a very lorge build and can lift over 300 lbs,,,,,, my little sisters climb on me like i’m a jungle gym and i just have to be like ‘this is fine’

Sexuality: aro/ace spec pan!! which is almost counterintuitive?? it’s like,,,, i only sometimes feel attraction but when i do gender has no effect on it....

Hogwarts house: proud Hufflepuff!!! i got a hat + scarf for hannukah!

potato (my sister) wants y’all to know that she is also a Hufflepuff, and has a Hufflepuff button she loves, and that our little sister is a Gryffindor.

Favourite animal: oh g-d don’t make me choose!!!

i actually ADORE all animals so much!!! even gross ones!!! like bugs are so interesting?? and fish are so pretty!! and snakes are just babies!!! agh i really can’t choose even though those are all such broad groups.... literally you could mention just about any animal to me and i could give you some random facts about them!!! (pls do tbh come into my inbox i will give u facts)

though i know the most about cats so i guess they are my favorite??

Average hours of sleep: hmmmm. ok so i have like Bad adhd insomnia, but!! i’m trying real hard to take care of myself. so if i have school its about 6 hrs?? which isn’t enough but ehhh.... since we’ve been home i’ve been sleeping 8-10 hrs.

(which if you didn’t know teenagers are supposed to sleep 10-12 bc our brains are still rapidly develping!! pls sleep more if you get the chance y’all take care of urselves ily!! )

Current time: 12:25!

Dogs or cats: like i said before i love all animals, including dogs!! i adore puppies!! but i do prefer cats!! there just such babies and i hyperfix on them enough that i know alot about cat body language. anytime w/ go over someone’s house and they have a cat i befreind it. they’re usually very supprised....

i can’t have any pets rn, but when i’m an adult i want like 3 cats!!

Blankets you sleep with: ok call out time for me.... i sleep w/ like. a comforter, a fluffy blanket, and a weighted blanket. and So Many pillows i don’t actually know how many of them i have. alot of them tend to end up on the floor. most are like random old full soze ones noone else wants, but a bunch are like throw pillows that came w/ my bed spread like 6 years ago XD

i think it’s an adhd thing but i just like to.... nest ig?? is the best word?? i like pillows ok?? i don’t sleep on my bed like a normal person.

Dream trip: go back to italy probably! i have alot of family there, so we’ve been a few times to see them. which definatly helps cut down costs lmao, we don’t have to pay for like hotels or anyting and ig it’s an italin thing to fight over who pays for food??

Dream job: ok,,,, rn i really wanna get like,,,, super rich so that i can donate alot of money to charity and shit. we’ll see how that works out but im trying

anyway, if we lived in like an actual functional world, i’d probably wanna be a stay at home writer/ parent. and by probably i mean definitely,,,, i’m already kinda doing that and raising my sisters, and i want to adopt alot of kids, so being able to do that would make me really really happy

When I made my blog: middle school? it’s been a pretty long time actually, and i’ve stuck w/ the same one for the whole time i’ve been here so i don’t rememeber exactly

Followers: 172! hi y’all!! ily!!

Why I made a tumblr: i don’t rememeberrrrrr :( but i know why i stay here!! bc i have alot of lovly freinds and theres alot of lovly people here!!

Reason for my URL: when i first made my acct my username was actually idkkkkkkkkkkk10 (it’s suposed to have 10 ks hope thats the right amount lol) bc i.... literally didn’t know what to make my url. eventually i switched it bc obviously it’s sort of ridiculous, but i wanted to keep the idk theme! so, idk-my-aesthetic!

on a semi related note, my header is ‘i like hugs’ bc for a while when i wasen’t in a great place it was ‘i need a hug’ but i’ve been doing better for a while, and changing it to something more positive was very meaningful to me

People I’d love to get to know: if anyone I didn’t tag wants to do this consider this an @ from me!!

@manic-pixie-nightmare-enby @feydrian @maeofthedead @non-binarypal7 @trappedinamethaphor @huffiewalkingonsunshine

#ask game

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ghoestys · 3 years

Text

i’m literally pulling this out of my ass so if there are errors and stuff doesnt make sense then please myob and pretend like u understand what im saying im trying to do this before i get caught not doing hw he comes at 6 n its 5:43 rn

statistics

full name: suzy nora yoon nickname(s): su, suz (pronounced like snooze without the n) age: twenty three date of birth: tba! hometown: tba! gender: cis female religion: athiest sexuality: bisexual hair colour: black/dark brown eye colour: brown height: 5'5″ tattoos: tba! piercings: tba!

prompt + blackmail

a member of the yale's elite, they're twenty-three and a senior undergrad student majoring in aviation engineering. they are as gregarious as they are aimless.

TW DRUGS! 1. to pay for yale's very expensive tuitition, suzy sells weed that's both fake and real, depending on who is buying and if she likes them. she's not a good seller, though, so this hasn't been the best form of income for her. 2. got accepted into the aviation engineering program, but suzy can't complete her homework without the help of drugs to keep her mind focused and creative enough to understand the problems

about

family/upbringing/childhood/wtvr

so! literally pulling this out of my ass and making things up as i go! suzy was born in a family with her parents (mom & dad), her older sister, and her older brother. the family was strictly middle class and her parents and siblings were very hardworking. her siblings were good at what they did and they excelled in their academics because they tried hard and all that stuff!

growing up, suzy followed her siblings and her parents and was basically a gifted child from the very start. elementary and middle school was not hard for her and she was in all the advanced and gifted programs. the family was calm and there wasn’t anything drastic that removed the peace or caused any disruption at all. like. they were just chillin.

i think suzy had an average relationship with her parents. they were still asian, so like... it’s as good as it was going to get. she was somewhat close to her siblings, but seeing as they were 5/8 years older than her, the age gap wasn’t that welcoming to the baby of the family. she was kinda just.. having fun on her own being smart n shit.

anyways! high school! where all gifted kids literally come to die! due to her shit from elem & middle school, she was offered a full ride scholarship to some prestigious school and as asian parents, they were NOT going to reject that free ride to a school that would help ensure suzy’s success in the future. she went from being one of the smartest kids to being another burnt out gift child and high school was fucking ROUGH!

bitch really had a fucking crisis and burned the fuck out. her not being the smartest bitch anymore literally killed everything in her and she just stopped being that. she met people and what do u know! got into the wrong crowd where drugs and alcohol was everyones bff!

she got into that pretty heavily by sophomore year i would say. she was just. yea.

i mean. she was burnt out but her grades were still fine if u saw them. studying isnt hard for suzy and shes pretty smart, but she wasn’t at the very top of her class anymore and thats what killed her. instead of having straight a’s, suzy was getting b’s and a few c’s. in a family where anything other than an a was acceptable it really just killed suzy some more

anyways! drugs and alcohol! made her feel good so she did it. she found that weed was the best thing as well as some tranquilizers/anything that relaxed her essentially. she just liked the feeling of floating n not caring or feeling any pressure like. she wanted to b in her own world n shit.

college/the elites

after graduating high school, she didnt apply to college right away because honestly? drugs and alcohol and a bitch didnt care by her senior year. her grades were not the best and while she couldve gotten into college, she literally had no interest for college and her parents at this point baiscally disowned her so like? who the fuck is gonna pay for her college??

her work ethic is the worst bc shes so careless like. bitch had a shift from 1-7pm and showed up at 5 because she literally didnt feel bothered enough to show up.

anyways a year or so after graduating high school (idk the math rn) she got really high off something and just. did a whole ass application to yale bc she decided to apply for the shits n giggles. wrote a fake letter of recommendation, wrote killer essay and personal reflection shit or wtvr, and even submitted the application with an attached document of her outlining an entire airplane that wouldve been fully functional except for a few tweaks n shit that was needed

she some how got in from that (this is fake this would probs not b real <3 teehee) and bc she was now accepted and going to yale (she accepted high aha a theme for her), she had to think about how to fund for this shit so she decided to get into drug dealing!

which is honestly. not going good like a bitch again has poor work ethics so her as a drug dealer is so.... she literally got into it bc of euphoria bc it looked easy but doing it... is not easy at all but its her only form of funding so she’s doing it. kinda. loosely. please fire her.

idk where to put this but. suzy is kinda like that girl from the queens gambit where she feels like she needs drugs to function so like she ditches class but she’ll do all her assignments nicely bc she thinks the drugs give her superpowers to b smart n at the top of her academic class again

when shes under the influence of anything she feels like she can function more or like her life is just... better when shes not sober and ull rarely really see her sober like shes usually just on something

idk where the post is rn bc im too lazy to look for it bc i jsut got a text that he was coming now but!!! its the tweet where a guy was drunk n drew up an entire blue print of an airplane and that is literally fucking suzy i swear to god

when shes high she’s like the smartest bitch around (shes smart without drugs but doesnt believe that) and can build airplanes n blueprints n solve maths n wtvrs

suzy is truly an asian stem bitch and the sciences and math is where she excels the most!!!! probs won awards n competitions for math and science but doesnt really acknowledge that much becase like... its just not something shes focused on

got into the elites by just making a blueprint of a plane from scratch infront of the twins like. legit just went infront of them, started making the blueprint from scratch to finish n gave it to them saying here is a blueprint for a new private plane u guys can build for urselves

personality

personality wise she is very friendly n goofy n chill n chaotic

literally a dumbass n honestly really annoying just ask orion

shes just a stoner having fun doing her life n not really caring about anything like. how she made it to senior year who the fuck knows i really dont honestly

i think the main way to describe her is bimbo like thats it

not really into sharing her life and is more of a listener than a talker when it comes to conversations that are genuinely deep and personal. she will not talk to u about her problems and insecurities seriously (maybe she’ll do it in a self deprecating way) unless she trusts u w her life. otherwsie she will keep it to herself n prays that her stoner part will make people believe shes just chillin w no problems

when it comes to conversations about nonsense n fake deep shit like what is air then suzy will not shut the fuck up like if u wanna talk to someone about nonsense then suzy is truly ur bitch like. a bitch can fucking talk

doesnt mind being alone bc she has fun on her own but she prefers company more bc she likes having fun and having someone to accompany wtvr she does. whether its for smoking/drinking or hanging out but also just for like... going to class if she chooses to attend and doing everyday errands like groceries or wtvr. she doesnt really do groceries tho bc she just steals orions fodo but when she does choose to go she likes having people with her :)

she doesnt have a passion for anything bc she doesnt dream of labor but the closest thing about b making airplanes or helicopters like. blueprints come easy to her n she enjoys making them bc she feels like shes actually capable of something bc shes aware that making them isnt something everyone can do

u can treat her like a dumbass n she wont call u on it even tho shes kinda smart bc she feels like shes a dumbass

most likely has bad self esteem and feels like a failure but uses drugs n alcohol to ignore that feeling :)

probs the least judgemental person ull ever meet bc she really doesnt care about what u do like. she hears the secrets getting outted n she doesnt care there r high chances that she’ll still look at u the same way

#intro #i am rushing im so sorry i jsut wanted this out while i was thinking about her

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brushes-of-sage · 4 years

Note

If all 8 parts dont come thru blame tumblr and their ask limit frozen au idea: ok so yeah varian was born with ice powers(btw i have no idea if hugos adopted in this au or not, it might come back later, my brain is just spitting things at me atm)Varian hugo quirin and ulla were a happy family until one day and accident involving alchemy, ice magic, and a startled alchemist involves in both parents getting trapped in a giant amber trap(Hugo comes in just as the amber finishes consuming them)(1/8)

After this, varian is scared of himself and his abilities both in magic and alchemy. He now wears his gloves 24/7 as opposed to just during experimenting(varian is 9, hugo is 8 kinda like elsa and anna but flipped(i think)) Any confidence he had in his abilities is immediately shattered and try as he might he cant seem to free his parents with magic alchemy or both. Hugo tries to help as much he can but varian is too scared and doesnt want to hurt him. After doing some research,(2/8)

he tries to ask for the trolls help but they cant so he requests they erase his memories of varians power, for fear of hurting his brother (he cant seem to keep hugo out of his lab. He feels horrible about it but cant risk hurting his only family left) Btw i dont c varian hurting hugo accidentally as well i dont think he could emotionally handle it, but all u angst writers, knock urselves out. Fast forward a few years and varian is 21 and about to be crowned king bc he still hasnt found(3/8)

a way to free his parents. While at the coronation party hugo meets donella, quickly filling the mother role he wished he had. Little does he know, she is only posing as a foreign dignitary bc she heard rumors about a magical prince hiding in arendelle and wants to exploit/study it. By the end of the evening she determines its not hugo, but hopes getting in hugos good graces could help getting to varian. Fast forward to the ballroom, the brothers argue (about what i dunno), ice spikes, (4/8)

varian runs, hugo leaves to follow him, and leaves donella in charge. I also headcannon he gets his memories back as the movie goes on bc reasons. Along the way, he runs into belle, a hardened ice harvester whos seriously annoyed about this snow storm in july.(dont worry guys hugo and belle dont fall in love, theyre just friends)They trek their way up the mountain while varian builds himself an ice lab cuz hes a dork. Along the way they meet ice ruddiger("Im sorry u 2 made a snow raccoon but(5/8

not a snowman?" "shut up Belle")So they make it to the lab, Hugos impressed, he wants to reconcile, but varian still has Confidence Issues, insert first time in 4evr reprise and whoopsies Hugos heart is frozen and his hair is turning blue(its already blond) and Belle takes him to the trolls. They tell him “an act of true love” like b4 but they interpret it as familial/platonic love bc that love doesnt get enough love. He thinks its donella bc just like how anna was desperate for love,(6/8)

hugo was desperate for some sort of parental figure, and rushes back, insert evil monologue by donella here. The rest of the movie pretty much plays out as b4: varian is captured, donella continues playing good guy, hugo gets out of the locked library, slowly freezing as he makes his way across the fjord insert art by mom, love heals, parents are finally free, gates are open roll credits. This is honestly something ive been thinking about all day and this au now lives in my mind rent free.(7/8)

I know there are plot holes and missing elements, but this is what i have so far, i lowkey love it, and if u have any questions pls ask, i wanna elaborate this au as much as possible and questions will help and pls tag mom i want her to c this. Sorry if this is too long i just have a lot of thoughts. And oh my goodness that means so much that you've gotten invested tysm(8/8) -💙

Response under cut

Okay, first off oh my heart, I need this movie now akfjakfja (and tagging @cinn-a-mom too ‘cause bless)

So lil Varian is the partial cause of the encasement, right? ‘Cause oh gosh, this poor kid being so enthused by alchemy and now has powers and all of that building up to encasing his parents?? Someone give him a hug 🥺🥺 (and omigosh if this does end up being where Hugo is somehow adopted into the family, just ohhhhh, him coming in at that moment is just *tears*)

And ohhhhh, I love how you slightly changed it to, if I understood right, Varian requesting that the trolls take away Hugo’s memories of his powers - ‘cause this kid is just wanting to help and Varian is scared and worried of hurting him, so he sees this as an option to protect him. (And ohhh, while the angst of him accidentally hurting Hugo with his powers is definitely wonderful, now I’m just imagining smol Varian going to the trolls and pleading for them to help and then coming to the decision to take away Hugo’s memories. Like OH MY HEART-)

And ohhh, I don’t think it’d play such a big part in the story, but as they’re both growing up, who’s acting regent at the moment? Or at least I’m just musing how things would be as they’re growing up since they were kids when Quirin and Ulla were encased (and if you don’t have any thoughts for it yet, that’s totally cool 🤗)

Ajfkakfjka Donella posing as a foreign dignitary to find the ‘magical prince’ to study is ahhhhhhhh- And then Hugo being drawn to her as the mother figure he’d always wanted and lacked for so long????? Lemme just

*sobs*

(Ajfkakdj Varian is SUCH A DORK OMIGOSH I LOVE HIM)

And omigosh, the whole dynamics between Belle and Hugo would be hilarious (“Shut up Belle” while she’s laughing yessss) Also snow/ice Ruddiger is absolutely adorable ahhhhh!

Hnnnnnngggg First Time I’m Forever Reprise and Hugo believing that Donella could break the spell (and ahhhhhh, I can just barely imagine how that monologue would go down - how she was never there for him, why would anyone want him - oh gosh, insert “More Than Just the Spare” ‘cause that’s literally how he’s feeling ahhhh - aldjgjlad even more so especially if he was adopted/taken in because he’ll feel even more isolated after all of this had happened, which is another reason why he was drawn to Donella in the first place)

And then cue Cinn’s art where Hugo sacrifices himself for Varian and we’re here to see all of the tears and sobbing and feels akfjakfjaj

BUT OMIGOSH I FREAKING LOVE THIS - Varian and all of his issues in confidence and his struggle to overcome it, Hugo and his issues in wanting to feel loved from having been pushed away for so long, you mentioned Belle was hardened so I’m excited to see her soften up ajfkakdj, and then DONELLA HECK YEAH - I was not expecting the route you took but I love it so much that it gave me chills ahhhhhh.

Wonder how Quirin and Ulla react to all of this once they get out ‘cause they’ve all grown so much and their kingdom as well

I freaking love this AU and the angst lord in me, while quite enjoying the soft and the fluff, is grinning quite malevolently at the angsty scenes hehehehehe, but seriously, this is AWESOME 😱

#varian and the seven kingdoms #frozen au #varian #hugo #donella #varian and the 7 kingdoms #sage answers #holy gosh this au is phenomenal though and ahhhhhh I love it #sorry if my thoughts are a bit scattered today hehehehe #but omigosh this is great #if you've got more to share then by all means add on to this beauty

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ho4bakugou · 4 years

Note

i meant to write a continuation to the reader not attending the halloween events:

so after the whole halloween contests and other little activities are done all of 1a are collective sitting down thinking of how to make it up to the reader

people kept suggesting make the costume but momo + iida pointed out that the reader didn’t want that and that it is too late for the contests now

they are stumped and decides to go on a class field trip to the design studio and they just hear the reader sniffling while they work

“saber i dunno why i’m crying, i told them that it was okay! and it is, i’m fine on missing out... i’m not okay with it... my costume was hella good and maybe i could’ve won? i dunno i didn’t even get the chance and this is my first year here too... well time to focus on make this damn shirt, i don’t feel like buying a new one” (honestly i hc both 💙 and 🤠 making their own clothes but y’all comment on that urselves)

and now they feel extra bad because it’s confirmed now that you wanted to join but decided not to do you didn’t feel left out

but they see eri go in holding a bunch of sweets and hear eri talking with reader and cheering them up with her candy + food

all in all the whole class felt bad and brought the reader little gifts that they had won at the games and made little things (i mean didn’t make reader feel better but they loved it because of the thought)

i also feel like momo would still want to make the reader’s costume but they still say no so then the most/all of the class just sits there waiting for you to start working on the costume reader found the loop whole when they said to start on it cause they didn’t continue at all the costumes blueprints just made them sad

oh no they would all feel really bad :( especially when eri tries to cheer you up because even someone as young as her could see how upset you were and they didn’t know how to make it up to you. i can see them all trying to help in their own little ways but none of it really makes you feel any better in the end. most likely what ends up happening is they try to bring it up to apologize but you shoot it down so they let it go :((

#k answers

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radio-charlie · 4 years

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the signs as roommates part 1

Aries: 5 days in there’s a hole burnt in the living room rug, u ask them wtf happened, they blind u with a cheery grin and tell u not to worry abt it, knocking over the box of cranberry juice on the kitchen counter on their way out. room constantly smells sweaty, will make fun of u if u play them sufjan stevens Taurus: beautiful smells coming out of the kitchen at all hours, weekend plans are smoke a joint then make some bbq with mo-town playing in the background, would be the best roommate ever except they keep knocking cushions onto the floor and never picking them up again

Gemini: will try to get u to confide in them and then tell all ur problems to their groupchat, absolutely will not be there after the party when u need someone to help u clean up but they come up with funny party games so u can forgive them a bit, changes career every 2 weeks or so, great taste in shitty tv Libra: even if both of u have about 5 dollars between the two of u, ur apartment will look great, probably featuring some artfully hung/draped fabrics and some dried plants. calculatedly bland until u get to know them better and then they will still be calculatedly bland. doesn’t have friends over to hang out as much as they have people over to network Scorpio: great if u are happy with the two of u keeping to urselves for the most part, probably has some kind of corporate job, will also probably catch feelings for u at some point, hyper-idealise u and leave really weird notes for u with those alphabet fridge magnets, don’t shout at them during arguments they will get a boner

Sagittarius: best late-night conversations until u start talking abt something that actually means something to u and then u will just want to punch them in the face, will almost 100% certainly try to play u their flaming lips albums, will good-naturedly promise to bring something to ur birthday potluck and then forget

#astrology #zodiac #aries #taurus #gemini #libra #sagittarius #scorpio #as always these posts are just for fun #dont be silly and take them too seriously

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nosfelixculpa · 4 years

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about + eight people i’d like to know better

tagged by @avrupasya ty queen

𝟎𝟏 . ALIAS / NAME : gab

𝟎𝟐 . BIRTHDAY : august 17

𝟎𝟑 . ZODIAC SIGN : leo

𝟎𝟒 . HEIGHT : last time i checked i was uuuuhh 5′5

𝟎𝟓 . HOBBIES / INTERESTS : being a Potato watching films and tv, reading, writing but that only happens Sometimes. lov me a good switch game and Years ago i used to be super into horse riding

𝟎𝟔 . FAVORITE COLOR : probs yellow or orange

𝟎𝟕 . FAVORITE BOOK : hhhmmmmmmm i read this book called timebomb a long time ago and it stuck with me until i refound it later on and it just ticks all my boxes - basically a bunch of kids finish primary school just after WWII and find an unexploded bomb it is,,, Wild. ALSO tho, i recently started six of crows and that shit is SO GOOD (jesper i would die for u king)

𝟎𝟖 . LAST SONG : burn from the hamilton soundtrack

𝟎𝟗 . LAST FILM / SHOW : aggretsuko is the last show, s3 is SOON so im looking forward to that, last film is the incredibles 2 tho

𝟏𝟎 . INSPIRATION : u kno that post thats like [shoehorns character from last show i watched into own work] im that but with Any media that drags me in enough to Obsess

𝟏𝟏 . STORY BEHIND URL : when i first remade to this tumblr from my deeply cringe other ancient tumblr i asked a friend to help with a name that wasnt strictly related to any one thing and she was like ‘recently i learned massapeccati means “we are all piles of sin” in latin’ and i was like Neat but someone already had it so the ‘tiblr’ is just a tumblr suggestion

i tag @get-out-get-out, @machumpski, @bathrobe-hero, @thealmightydoughnut, @humandisastersquad, @cloudquet, @clockworkswans and anyone else who wants to do it knock urselves out kids

#mine #abt me meme #txt.#im not used to Tagging things like this rip

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clownkiwi · 5 years

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OK, I guess I'll have to make a post about this since I'll probably never stop getting asks about this

So, I have been reblogging this boost post I made a couple months ago. (i have made other versions of this post in the past but yall seen the most recent one)

The main intention of this post was to get my best friend/queerplatonic partner some attention because they were pretty new (they only started this april nd only got up to 1k followers by the end of june) and I wanted to help them make sales for their content, since Tumblr has been pretty shitty towards sex workers over the past year (ya know, the nip ban). Ya know, boost posts usually help!!! (nd i do love the love you've been giving this post, ty all sm!!!!)

And I have gotten criticism and hate over this.

I got another ask like this and either I deleted it or answered it and I forgot, IDK which one. When I also asked someone to reblog one of my past versions of this post, I have gotten told this. I guess there are still PTA moms on here that think what I'm doing is wrong (dw, ik who they are).

But let me just make this clear; I am absolutely against showing minors porn. Do you think I'd actively show my followers, a majortiy of them being minors, porn??? Not only do I have my own NSFW sideblog, but I actively try to make my main SFW as possibly as it can be; yea, sure, I'll make NSFW jokes here and there and I might draw suggestive stuff or reblog suggestive stuff here and there, but I'll only tag things as NSFW when possible. It's also very obvious I'm against pedophilia of all kind (MAPs, NOMAPs, clowns, pickles, w/e the fuck u call urselves now, i HATE u nd i dont want u to engage in this argument or even interact with me), so making this boost post??? Was hard, without getting weird eyes at least, and I expected that.

I've made several versions of this post; first, it was just with selfies and their prices menu. Then, I tried to get a little more saucy and used hot pictures (only to get more attention really, but I don't think that worked). Then, the one that I've been reblogging is the current version that Lou themselves approved of (er, i used pics lou themselves approved of; at one point i used pics from their personal account, but that posts deleted now, nd ive been seeing this one in circulation more).

You get what I mean though. Lou and I are both against minors interacting with them, and I even made it perfectly clear that the most I want minors to do if they saw that post was just to reblog it for exposure.

That's it. I didn't say to "look at their Twitter, interact with them". I've made it perfectly clear I don't want minors interacting with them. That's it, end of discussion.

That's not to say its bad to explore your sexuality as a high schooler (and I don't mean through sexual identities, like, I mean stuff for kinks and what not. I've been a high schooler before, I know how high schoolers joke w/ each other and talk about porn and what not), but I just don't want 14-17 year olds talking to them or even interacting with them. It's not that hard.

There isn't even anything NSFW on that post. All that's just there are their selfies and their prices list. There's nothing saucy or hot about that, all I'm asking is that you just reblog this post so adults can see this post and provide better help (like following their Twitter, or tipping them/buying their content). There is nothing wrong with this post, everyone just talking to me about this are way too over protective over minors who I'm just hoping are making the right decisions when theh see his post.

I don't want minors interacting with Lou, all I want them to do is to just reblog this post and nothing else. I hope I made this perfectly clear and fair. I don't want to get any more asks or complaints about this.

#ruby vents edgy shit #when i got that ask i had to make this post; do u think id answer that anon???? thatd jus open me up for more bs nd arguments over this #at this point ill jus block any anons ill get about this bc ik i wont stop getting asks over this #im still gonna keep the boost post up bc im p sure i havent done anything wrong #hopefully thisll be the last nd only time this will ever be brought up

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fierceawakening · 5 years

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Like, here are the things that look contradictory to me

(From the npeed tag, several have tags like actuallyunempatheitc as well)

“ppl with low or no empathy arent monsters lmao... u dont need empathy to have a moral compass? like we all grew up on the same damn planet getting told the same basic rules so we all understand the difference between right and wrong. just bc we can’t relate to someones emotional experience doesn’t mean we think murder is okay or some shit. @ neurotypicals get over urselves”

“Don't test me. I know exactly how to ruin your life.”

“Person: I'm just having a really hard time... Me: oh jeez uh *spins wheel* I care about you *rolls dice* it will get better *flips through notecards* sending good vibes”

“I hate when people are upset it makes me so uncomfortable and then i have to comfort them and pretend to care when really i just want them to stop making me uncomfortable so we can go back to focusing on me”

“Instead of lying, you can say “I don’t know what to say”, “I can’t even imagine how difficult that must be for you”, “I don’t know if there is a way I can make you feel better, but you should know I am here, okay?” It might not only be more convincing, but you can also make a game out of it, to keep yourself from being too bored.”

“All these people are like “I don’t think you’re self centered, I see you go out of your way to help people all the time!” Like yeah. Because if I don’t, that would make me look bad. If I do, people give me praise and compliments. How is that difficult to understand?”

I get that being stigmatized is painful! For anyone, no matter the illness.

But when you say not liking things like this is “ableism,” you’re basically saying that any selfish way someone treats someone else is fine as long as they have a particular label.

And I’m sorry, but I still disagree. I know why you want me to agree, but... dude, it violates the laws of logic not to see “I wish we could stop talking about you so we can go back to focusing on me” as selfish.

Because it is.

Is it intentional? Not necessarily.

Is it selfish? Yes.

Does selfishness fuel immoral behavior?

Sometimes, my good bitches. S o m e t i m e s.

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murasakiyuzu · 5 years

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List your top 5 Anime Characters, then tag 10 people

thanks for tagging me @glassmoonfortuneteller! sorry it took be a while to do this lmao -w-

in no particular order bc that would kill me:

1. Oikawa Tooru (Haikyuu!!)

i love every single character in this heckin anime, but oikawa rly messes up w all my feelings. im too weak for characters w gap moe, even if its the ‘looks very nice, is actually a bit of a demon’ kind and not the other way around, lmao. the thing abt oikawa is that he twists in and out of himself; he is handsome, charismatic and endearing at first glance, but hes also cunning and easily overcome by feelings of jealousy, inferiority and egoism. even so, hes an observant and hardworking leader who places his strength on the strength of his team as a whole, never thinking himself higher than his teammates. oikawa looks like he got everything easily, looks like hes a genius, but everything he has he worked very hard for. oikawa built himself to be a winner but never got the victory he wanted the most. nothing w oikawa is as it looks, and that why i cant help but love him.

2. Noiz (DRAMAtical Murder)

u knew he was going to be here, its gotta count for something that i, at least, didnt put him on number 1 too lmAO

just like oikawa, i fell victim to noizs gap moe as well. i mean, u give me a delinquent in weird clothes whos rude to everyone, pushy and even violent, and then turns out hes like a little kid at heart who buys foods without knowing their names, who doesnt know when to stop fighting bc he doesnt feel pain and no one ever cared abt his safety and thinks hes a monster bc of his insensitivity and silently suffers bc of it, ofc im gonna lay down my life for him. im gonna die for noiz ya hear me

theres not many scenes in anything that fucks me up more than the scene (that didnt make into the anime, sob) where he fights w aoba as theyre hiding in the oval tower, and then he tells aoba abt his insensitivity to pain and aoba pulls him down to him and tells noiz the world isnt as bad as he thinks and makes noiz slowly open up to him and learn from aoba how is it like to care abt someone else. its beautiful to see him, whos so young but is both hardened by the ugliness of the world hes seen and ignorant to the good things the world still has to offer, finally open himself up and make the first steps towards growth, and meaning to grow beside the one he fell in love with. im soft. my heart was found full of love.

3. Olivier Mira Armstrong (Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood)

ive been in love w this woman since i first read the manga and when i watched the anime i died, thats the story

just like haikyuu!!, i love every single character in this anime, like, im physically Incapable of hating any of them. but olivier stands out for me. i think theres people who prolly had a bad impression from her as she antagonized ed and al right when she showed up, but young me was in awe of her attitude and her strong resolve in seeing for herself what ed and al were worth. shes known as ‘the ice queen of briggs’ and she leads her men with an iron fist, but its also clear that shes fair and values the life of every one of her subordinates, like when buccaneer and the others were late in coming back to the surface after their rescue mission and thought they would be left for dead, only to find that olivier had subtly made sure they would be received any time they came back.

her confidence in her own judgement, how she dealt w miles’ conflict as an amestris soldier and part ishvallan and the way she doesnt rly give a fuck abt whats lawful and correct and goes through with the things she herself considers right, are all things i love so much abt her. when i was a kid i even tried to get my hair to be like hers LMAO

tldr; queen of my life

4. Kinomoto Sakura (Cardcaptor Sakura)

cardcaptor sakura was my first true anime. i did watch saint seiya and naruto on tv around that time as well, but cardcaptor sakura was the first one i actually watched in full and then rewatched again and again and obsessed over, lmao.

i was rly, rly young then. not a baby anymore, def; i was about 10-12? it was an age at which i was building my own personality. honestly, at that point in time i think i was already kinda Messed Up, lmao; id get on Moods and be rly depressed and then super cranky, and i was always socially awkward. sakura made a huge impression on me; it just seemed like her attitude made everything better. she talked to everyone and had lots of friends and it seemed like she had a lot of fun like that. i tried to be more cheerful like that (i wanted roller blades too but i dont live in a place where i can use it a lot, and my parents never bought it for me lmao), and while i never got the hang of being super bright to Everyone and im still kind of moody, i think she rly taught me to be lighter and not take myself too seriously, to always try to see the bright side of things and believe that everything will be alright.

5. Nino (ACCA: 13-ku Kansatsu-ka)

thats not an anime a lot of people watched, i think, and on that note, if @ u all didnt watch it, GO WATCH ACCA ITS SO GOOD UR LOSING OUT???, so theres prolly not a lot of people who would put nino in their top 5 favorite characters lmao

but hes absolutely worthy of it. its fascinating to see the mystery of his identity and actions throughout the anime slowly unravel itself. i even wrote a oneshot that delved into what he was doing and what he was thinking as the events of the show progressed, trying to fill the blanks that the canon didnt show. ill try not to be spoilery w this one bc i want u all to find out for urselves, but i love ninos intelligence, his attitude and his strong loyalty, and in that loyalty, the conflict he feels between his duty and his desire. the episode that shows his past is one of my favorites bc its so heartrending. i love how naturally he fits in with jean and lotta and how the three of them look like a family. anyway, watch acca and love nino w me ♡

I’m tagging @lithuanina, @satyr-syd, @realm-of-spells, and thats it bc im not in contact w a lot of people and tumblr is apparently not letting me tag some others either lmao rip

#feel free to ignore -v-#mumbling yuzu

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mayuuunaise · 6 years

Text

fic: antiseptic and honey

a/n: what do u know, after 1231829312317 years i finally post it :’))))) lmao. based on @madokasoratsugu‘s fantastic mafia au!! read on: ao3 | under the cut (pls do urselves a favour and just read on ao3 mwa)

one.

It is a few weeks after their first awkward meeting before they’ve set up their routine (Isami remembers rain and angry tears. He doesn’t think such a tiny person could ever be so loud. He doesn’t think even she has thought she could be as angry as she was at that time. He honest to god thinks it’s impressive, considering how a tiny, nervous medic seems to intimidate mafiosi bosses and known hitmen into silence). It is even longer after that before Isami acknowledges that he goes through with the routine simply because he wants to, and not just because of some silly honorable agenda.

Originally, the “routine” has been set up via a collective vote from the heads that make up the Nakiri Alliance. After Yukihira and Tadokoro’s screaming match the night he and his brother arrived in Nakiri’s mansion, Nakiri has decided to monitor (she uses the words “check up” but Isami has been in the business long enough to read between the lines) the civilian doctor. All eyes in the room unanimously turn to him and Isami is honestly a little bit flattered. Who better to pick than mild-mannered, free-spirited Isami? Of course, Isami himself admits he looks relatively harmless, all cheshire grins and gentleman chivalry, but always manages to get the information he needs (the younger Aldini notes that the people in the room casually leave out that his usual means of information gathering involve at least three different forms of torture. Still not worse than Alice, though).

Still, the Aldini don dutifully does as he is told. The problem is, he continues to do it long after Alice has cleared the doctor of any sort of need for a defense protocol. Isami simply doesn’t let the habit die.

Isami pops around the medic wing every so often some time after dinner, or right after his errands some days (whenever he’s presentable and not caked in someone else’s blood; Isami is a gentleman, after all, and Tadokoro should never see a sight so gruesome, even if she is a doctor). He then proceeds to make up some wild excuse or another; the week before last was a paper cut (Isami now knows how difficult it actually is to intentionally get yourself a paper cut). The month before he didn’t even need to fabricate a silly reason: someone had let Yukihira play in the kitchen and he’d managed to get himself food poisoned off of those horrible peanut butter squids the assassin was grilling (for a brief moment of terror, all of the Nakiri household had wondered if Yukihira had managed to steal Arato’s poison collection somehow. Arato has assured everyone that not even the master thief Ibusaki would be able to get his slippery fingers on any of them).

Isami is nothing but a chatterbox, and he has noticed how it help relaxes the young woman. He talks to her about his day (leaving out any vile details, should there be any) and his dogs and Tadokoro laughs in that soft and shy way she does every so often. Isami makes sure, for his sake, Tadokoro’s, and all the mafiosi under Nakiri’s roof, to shift their topic of conversation to Tadokoro and her life before getting caught up in their world. He admits that he tries to steer clear or deflect any and all of her questions about the darker side of the life she now lives. Recently, it’s been proving to be a difficult task when Isami’s just far too tired and faced with the most honest amber eyes he has ever seen. Tadokoro is often even quieter in moments like those, and the mafioso appreciates the gentle silence between them.

The brunette also always makes sure to accompany her back to her room. Tadokoro normally rejects the offer, but recently hasn’t been bothered to do so; Isami takes this as a good sign (of what exactly, he is not entirely sure). He ends the night with chaste kisses on both cheeks. The Italian pretends he doesn’t notice her face flush every time he does so, but gives her a cheeky smirk and bids her good night all the same.

Tonight, after a particularly tenacious back-alley thug has given him enough reason to actually use his fists, the younger Aldini don barges into Tadokoro’s medic wing with bruised knuckles. Tadokoro isn’t even surprised anymore, and only spares a glance at the clock before smiling warmly at him. He pretends not to notice the room brightening. Isami flashes her an easygoing grin before he holds up an ungloved hand, “I think they’re broken,” he chirps out.

Tadokoro looks a little alarmed at the state of his knuckles. Angry red marks slash itself across his olive skin, while blue and purple bruises sit atop the bones. Isami rarely has to use the aftermath of his day’s work as an excuse to see Tadokoro, so he understands her concern. After all, Takumi is the short ranged fighter, not him.

“What, what happened!?” she frantically asks. Tadokoro quickly moves from her seat, gesturing him to sit on one of the medic beds as she busies herself into finding their first aid kit. Isami doesn’t need to be told twice, happily making himself comfortable at the foot of the medic bed nearest her desk.

“Hm, I suppose I punched a brick wall,” Isami hums something in the back of his throat, attempting to kick up his legs reminiscent to his more innocent, childhood days (back when his feet wouldn’t reach the floor and mama would laugh at the sight of him). The brunette supposes it’s a half truth: that Himuro thug’s face was about as solid as a cement road. When Tadokoro gives him that half-frown-half-pout look, the Aldini don lets out a chuckle; he recognizes it as the face she makes when she knows he’s not giving her all the details. Isami should feel a little more guilty about it, but half truths slip out more easily than the whole when it comes to him. As with literally anyone else part of the Nakiri family alliance, Isami operates on the principle that Tadokoro doesn’t need to know any more than she already does.

After her fight with Yukihira, Tadokoro has yet to kick up a fuss about needing information. Isami doesn’t know if it’s because she understands that this is the most she’ll ever get, or Tadokoro simply doesn’t want anything more to do with their world. When the young medic sits across from him and gingerly takes his hand to inspect it, Isami hopes it’s the latter (he knows, deep in his heart, that Tadokoro is not that kind of person, not the type to abandon old friends and new acquaintances she’s barely met).

“Good news is, it’s not broken,” the medic comments off-handedly. Her fingers graze over his knuckles so gently he’s sure he has imagined it. The spike in his heart rate says otherwise. “It might be a little fractured, but we’ll have to use the x-ray to check. I’ll ask Jun-san for it tomorrow.” She looks up at him, wide-eyed and professional and Isami is a little taken aback by how attractive she looks right now, a few blue tendrils from her immaculate French braid framing her face. “Would you happen to be free tomorrow afternoon? Hayama-san says they’ll both be back by then,”

“For you, I’d have all the time in the world.”

Tadokoro squirms in her seat, but isn’t uncomfortable by his light flirting. Isami knows because there’s this tiny little smile on her lips that lets him know she finds it funny, at the very least. Isami would never want her to be uncomfortable because of him and has regularly voiced it so, assuring the young medic that he means no harm at all (and the brunette promises he’ll stop the moment he stops seeing that little smile on her lips). Tadokoro sets to work, cautions and medical terms flying off her mouth as one hand rummages through their first aid kit. Her other hand doesn’t let go of his, the warmth of her fingers seeping through his cold palm.

Isami is close enough to smell the mix of antiseptic and honey off of her, an odd combination so uniquely Tadokoro Megumi. He indulges, if only for a moment, and lets the melody of her voice lull him into a space where the smoking guns and territory wars won’t reach.

two.

Takumi has been looking at him weirdly for the past week. Isami recognizes it as a reflection of the same pointed look he sends his brother when he challenges Yukihira for another round of sparring (or, as the younger brother likes to call it, “Weird Violent Foreplay,” not that he’s all too judgmental about his brother’s sexual exploits or kinks for that matter. Arato has shared with him in the strictest confidence of her surprisingly plastered head how much of a body worship-princess kink Nakiri has, after all). There’s something else in there though that he can’t quite explain; it has been far too long for Isami to remember the last time he’s been unable to fully understand his older brother and all the nuances of his upturned, sculpted brow.

Takumi breaks the silence the eve before the both of them venture off for another business trip abroad.

“What was your excuse tonight?” the blonde asks nonchalantly. Takumi doesn’t look at him, and keeps his eyes trained on the brass knuckles over his fingers instead. He’s acting as if he’s inspecting them, but Isami knows his brother like the inner mechanisms of his favourite revolver. Takumi has probably been waiting for him to enter their suite, question hot on his tongue. And yet, his older brother continues to act as if he’s busy packing up essentials for their trip when it’s obvious from the unopened box of his borther’s favourite set of feather dusters that claims otherwise. Isami almost wants to burst out laughing for his brother’s innate inability to act subtle around him. Isami supposes this is why he’s in charge of negotiations and information deals, while Takumi inspires loyalty over their famiglia without question.

Still, the younger of the two refuses to indulge his brother so easily.

“What do you mean?” Isami pulls up a suitcase from under the bed, awaiting his brother’s response.

Takumi raises a brow, the corners of his lips quirking just a tiny bit to accept his younger brother’s challenge. “Did you go see the medic again tonight?”

“What if I did?”

“Whatever for?”

“Why is it your business?” Isami’s lips quirk in the slightest bit upwards. Takumi would never win against him in a game of questions like these. This is, after all, what Isami has trained with and worked for all his life. He brings up a gloved hand and traces the patch of gauze just a few centimeters shy of his left eye. That bastard Tohru sure got him good with that one, almost lodged right into his eye socket if Hayama hadn’t pulled him back just in time. “Besides, can’t you see how wounded I am?”

Takumi reaches out, gripping the taller brother’s chin with a firm grasp. He tilts Isami’s head to the side, sharp blue eyes zeroing in on the knife wound hidden beneath the carefully placed bandages. “I suppose the medic did a fair enough job. I don’t want my baby brother ruining his pretty face.” Takumi raises an eyebrow slyly before drawling out. “Heard that’s quite unpopular with the ladies.”

“So you think I’m pretty, brother?” Isami gasps, both hands now holding his cheeks in mock surprise and delight. Takumi finally rolls his eyes, signaling an end to their game.

“Alice has cleared Tadokoro-san weeks ago.” Takumi has never really cared much for tact. His patience has clearly run thin, as with anything else. When Isami is about to fully laugh, he meets his brother’s icy gaze and pauses, smile halfway on his face. “Your job is done, Isami.”

“No one is telling me to stop,” the younger of the two counters back, removing his brother’s hold on his chin with a quick swipe of the back of his arm. He drops the pretense as easily as he drops his clothes into his open suitcase. His own blue eyes level with his brother; he doesn’t quite grasp why, but something inside is itching for him to argue. “I don’t understand why exactly this is relevant.” Isami turns his back on Takumi before his brother can say anything else. He tries to seem busy packing for a business trip he has forgotten the details of. “I’m not compromising my work because of it. And-”

“She’s a civilian, Isami,” Takumi cuts him off. Isami is mildly surprised he hasn’t noticed his brother approach. The height difference between the twins is irrelevant; Takumi still looks imposing despite reaching only the tip of his younger brother’s tall nose. “Enough goofing off: the sooner you stop playing pretend, the easier it’ll be.”

Isami hears the unspoken warning behind his brother’s words: She’s not supposed to be here; quit normalizing this kind of life for her.

The younger Aldini almost cracks a smile at his brother’s roundabout way of showing concern. Still, Isami strikes back.

“I’m not pretending,” he comments softly. The edge in his voice is gone and for a moment, they stand in silence in a way that only brothers would, he reckons.

“To be associated with an Aldini don won’t always guarantee her safety,” Takumi warns, his voice just as quiet as the brunette’s. Isami is well aware of that fact. After their most recent betrayal, the Aldini family certainly does not have the most plentiful of allies. Associating with the Nakiri family has been the first step to recovering their status and prestige (and overall do-not-fuck-with-us vibe of warning at the mere mention of their names, he supposes).

“Well,” Isami hums back. His hands automatically pick up one of his personal favourites: a sleek black gloc with the Aldini family crest engraved on the handle. “The public doesn’t really need to know.”

Takumi finally cracks a grin before he comments flippantly, “Here’s to hoping she doesn’t need to know either.”

Isami feels his chest constrict at the implications Takumi’s words hold. With his brother’s back facing the younger Aldini, Isami’s cheshire grin goes a little stiff. The grip on his gun tightens, the leather of his gloves stretching almost uncomfortably over his knuckles.

“Let them try.”

three.

Isami soon discovers that adept doctor she may be, gambling goddess, Tadokoro is not.

Yukihira guffaws before hacking up a lung. Though Tadokoro’s face is flushed red in embarrassment, she still manages to reprimand the red haired young man about opening stitches should he continue with his rambunctious behaviour. Takumi shakes his head, though in equally bad shape, the older Aldini prides himself on being more mature by simply smirking smugly at the way Tadokoro berates the freelance assassin (what a child, Isami thinks).

“But it’s funny!” Yukihira whines, readjusting his position on the medic bed. He’s been out like a light for three days, Isami doesn’t blame him for finding everything amusing. He suspects the painkillers Jun has been injecting the assassin with is also partially to blame. He has the aching suspicion that the assassin might be sneaking more than what’s prescribed, but he has no proof for it. “You can’t lie at all, Tadokoro. You’re horrible at this.”

“I hate to say it,” Takumi clicks his tongue in distaste, as if he practically forces himself to spit out his next words. “But Yukihira is right, Tadokoro-san. You really are quite bad at this.”

Tadokoro, in turn, puffs out her cheeks and pouts, unable to argue otherwise. It’s so cute, Isami is actually tempted to join in on the teasing. The grin Yukihira shoots his brother might be enough to change his mind, however, as the blonde goes on another irritated tirade about actually agreeing with the red head over anything. He disregards his brother and Yukihira’s banter-flirting to gather up the playing cards scattered on their bed sheets.

They have been playing since Yukihira has stirred and complained of dry throats and crippling boredom. Isami recalls hearing the former freelancer bemoan his current situation, not because of actual pain but more the dull ache that comes with being unable to even move and it’s just so, so, so boring Isami. How can something so good for your body be so boring?

Isami tells him not to let Jun or Tadokoro hear any of his whining, and cuts him off just in time for a pop of blue hair to enter his vision, scurrying about with notes on Yukihira’s vitals and checking his bandages and bruises. The brunette manages to entertain the red head enough to not openly complain against the one person who would voluntarily treat the young man’s wounds by quickly producing a deck of cards from somewhere in his coat pocket. Takumi, from the adjacent bed and possibly equally bored (or even more so, considering he has been awake and practically chained to the bed for two days), demands Isami push his closer to Yukihira’s in order to play with them.

“Perhaps, poker is simply not her strong suit,” Isami hums out. Being the only one who could actually move his torso well enough (Takumi has dislocated his shoulder again along with a stab near his pancreas. Yukihira, meanwhile, has three bruised ribs and has his right leg strung up on a cast. Isami’s far too careful for injuries like those, but still has his right bicep wrapped up in gauze from a grazed bullet), the brunette has automatically decreed himself the dealer. He shuffles the playing cards with practiced ease, flipping and showering and catching from one hand to the other. “Do you consider yourself lucky, Tadokoro-chan?”

“Having had Yukihira as a patient for the past near decade? Doubtful,” Takumi drawls out, earning another halfhearted glare from said red head.

“He wasn’t even talking to you!”

Isami tunes them out easily enough, having had practice from the abundance of missions Nakiri has been putting them in as of late. He chooses instead to tilt his head towards Tadokoro, finding her fair features far easier on the eyes compared to the two idiots in matching hospital beds. Tadokoro herself looks troubled, fidgeting with her hands as if she’s trying to physically control the urge to not give a damn about the two flirts in the room (there are three, exactly, if you count him as well. But he’s playing nice. Tadokoro-chan doesn’t need the extra trouble).

He shuffles the cards once more, “Have you ever played Black Jack, Tadokoro-chan?”

Isami figures out easily enough that Tadokoro really is absolutely hopeless in gambling, which is oddly attractive to him. She brightens easily when she has good cards, grimaces with a pout when she has bad combinations. Isami would laugh at how easy it is to even just guess if she needs any extra cards or not; just a little sleight of hand and a little probability calculations has him drawing exactly the cards she needs.

Yukihira has told him time and time again how incredibly impressed he is with the combination of Isami’s (un)natural luck, astounding poker face, and quick thinking. Isami shrugs that perhaps he’s simply honed it all from years in the underground mafia business (he doesn’t tell Tadokoro this, however. His heart couldn’t take seeing her horrified expression at the thought). Yukihira repeats this sentiment now, with a deliberate glance towards the unsuspecting blue haired medic who wins another round of black jack that has her giggling in such a tiny, soft voice it makes even Takumi’s ice cold heart melt. Isami laughs and shuffles the deck again, beaming back at Tadokoro as he does so when she tells him that Isami’s luck must have rubbed on her today (Yukihira laughs, has the gall to actually laugh. Takumi stares at the two of them with an impressive frown on his face).

His older brother grumbles a little when he takes the risk and yet receives another face card that sends him over the required number (not Isami’s fault, this time. He swears the only cards he adjusts are for the pretty medic who has been the butt of gambling jokes one too many times today).

Yukihira levels him a cross between a glare and a smug grin. “Cheater,” his lips read out. Isami doesn’t even try to deny it, shrugging his good arm as he hands the medic another one of the smaller cards to hit closer to 21. Tadokoro’s reaction is immediate, shoulder perking up and a bright smile on her lips. Isami decides it’s more than enough of a trade off, he’s a goddamn winner already.

four.

He doesn’t remember nor does he realize when or how her name shifts from Tadokoro-chan to Megumi in his head. Suddenly it seems as if it’s simply the most natural thing in the world to do. When he accidentally says it out loud one day to thank her as she stitches up his palm (a paper cut, he explains to her. Papers sure are sharp these days, leaving an inch deep wound on his hand), Megumi’s cheeks dust pink, but otherwise says nothing about it. She’s more preoccupied by his obvious lie and continues to reprimand him for worrying her (he tries hard not to dwell on this little bit of information). He rolls with it, not thinking too much of it. Isami figures if that irritating young man from the bar called Isshiki could call her by her first name, then so should he, right? She calls him Isami even when Takumi isn’t around, anyway. Isn’t that what friends do?

The first to take notice is Alice (as usual, that nosy gossip he somehow affectionately calls his friend). And Alice, being Alice, does not let it slide.

“Say that again,” she demands with all the pompous air of a spoiled princess. She twirls her wine glass with one hand absent-mindedly, wide ruby red eyes trained on him with a gleeful little grin painted on her dainty face. Isami knows he can’t weasel his way out of this one, not with Alice.

Still, Isami is nothing if not a trier.

“Say what again?” he asks coyly.

The frown Alice sends him is comically cute enough for him to break out into a grin. Isami imagines if the wine glass had not been hers, pilfered from her cousin’s collection undoubtedly, Alice would have thrown it to his head already with pinpoint accuracy.

“You said her name!” she points out accusingly, leaning forward in her seat across him. Isami has the slightest urge to lean back. He brushes the thought from his head and mimics her position instead.

“Whose name?” he presses on. Alice is having none of it.

“Muu-! Isami-kun is a meanie who doesn’t tell me anything anymore!” the platinum blonde complains. Her small fists bang a rhythm on the table top. “Who taught you to act this way, huh? I bet it was Takumi-kun, wasn’t it?” Alice’s temper tantrum only encourages him to laugh, which definitely does not slow down the half Scandinavian beauty. If anything, it only sends her into a more childish fit.

“My dear, you have taught me everything I know, don’t you remember?” All technically true, in his defense. This little comment causes Alice to pause, the tears wavering in the corner of her eyes look almost comical as she trains bright red eyes at him. A normal man would flinch under her heavy gaze, but Isami has never really considered himself to be normal.

“True enough,” Alice almost sounds proud. “But I never taught you to lie.” She huffs out, putting her tongue out to childishly blow a raspberry at him.

“There’s nothing to tell, anyway,” Isami cuts her off with a half truth before she sends a knife to his head. He’d very much like to keep his current hair style, thank you (and his head, for that matter). “Don’t friends call each other by their names?”

Alice scoffs, finally leaning back into her plush chair. “You don’t have friends. Your categories include those you kill when need be, and then there are those Takumi-kun says you can’t kill. An easy life to follow, if I do say so myself; none of that gray area bullshit.”

“I’m offended,” Isami mocks, a gloved hand to his chest. “Who are you then, if I didn’t have any friends?”

“Your mistress,” Alice readily croons, almost silver bangs falling to hide her pretty eyes. The coy smile on her painted lips let him know she’s not completely serious. They share a momentary pause in banter as they sip their wine casually, each appraising the other in a silent battle of who will give in first.

“It’s cruel for you to accuse me as someone so heartless, Alice,” Isami counters with a cheshire grin of his own. “I’d like to think that my brother and I aren’t quite the socially inept workaholics you think we are.”

“Oh, I’m not talking about charisma,” she tuts, followed by a merry little giggle. “You Aldini brothers have plenty of that, don’t get me wrong.” The blonde winks and takes her wine glass, placing it close to her lips before she continues. “I’m talking about your ruthlessness getting in the way of your ‘friendships.’”

Isami’s glass stills in his hand, and his lips form a thin line.

“You know,” she urges on, her syllables practically a drawl as they leave her tongue. The red on her lips look more sinister than they should be. Isami doesn’t move, but his blue eyes are ice cold as they level with her own ruby ones. “I wonder if she knows about the Aldinis and their reputation with those who cross the line?”

She leans in; her eyes are hooded and Isami can practically see the winged tips of her eyeliner. They look sharp enough to cut.

“Does Megumi even know what you’re truly capable of, Isami-kun?” Alice mocks. The only reason he hasn’t put a bullet in her head is because she’s Alice. Takumi would be thoroughly disappointed in him if he did. The blonde tilts her head to the side, “Takumi-kun might be the one always bruised and bloodied, but whose kill count is higher? Who, exactly, brought down the Katagiri empire?”

Isami mirrors the title of her head, and compliments it with a thin, catlike smile. “I want to punch a hole in your skull with a screwdriver.”

Alice laughs in response and the tension is gone. Isami takes a sip of his wine and pretends to look intimidating before he cracks and laughs along with her.

“Oh, you have it bad,” Alice comments off handedly, lips kissing the rim of her wine glass before she tips back the remnants of the alcohol. Isami hums and does the same. He pretends not to hear her and shifts the topic to one Alice readily bites into: her cousin’s disastrous love life. Isami tries to forget

five.

Isami’s heart hammers in his chest at the news. Hayama has informed him via text of her condition, the only one considerate enough to remember that he might at all be affected by the situation at hand. He drops his phone into the deep recesses of their sedan in his shock before telling their driver to pull over and get out. Takumi’s eyebrows are raised in question, Isami is out of the lounge of the backseat and dragging their Nakiri-designated driver out of the front as quick as possible.

“Isami, what the hell are you-” Takumi barely has the time to construct a sentence before his younger brother practically floors it and makes a sharp twist back to the Nakiri mansion. They have an incredibly important mission to accomplish, a message to send to Eizan and his petty little band of traffickers at Nakiri’s demands (as well as his and his brother’s). Nothing is as important for him than to get back there as soon as possible.

He can hear Takumi telling him to stop, to calm down, what the fuck is going on, brother, talk to me. He puts more weight into the clutch and shifts another gear higher. When the blonde quiets down in the backseat, Isami takes the time to glance momentarily at the rear-view mirror. Takumi’s fair features pale considerably, his grip on Isami’s fallen phone impossibly tight that a small voice in the back of his head fears it might crack.

No, there are things he fears more right now. Takumi’s voice is but a whisper when he tells him to hurry.

“Where is he?” Isami’s voice is low and quiet as he stalks the halls of Nakiri’s giant mansion. The maids who have the unfortunate luck of being in the vicinity tense before scurrying along in fear. They don’t know who he’s talking about but they aren’t paid enough to know (nor do they want to, he’ll later think). His feet take him to the common room, Takumi hot on his heels but silent. When the twins start hearing hushed but angry voices from one of the lounges they use for informal meetings, their direction shifts with their steps more hurried.

Isami slams the door open, startling the residents inside. Nakiri starts to step towards the two, but Arato holds her back. It doesn’t matter to Isami when his cold blue eyes zero in on one person only.

“You were supposed to protect her!” His fist connects with Kurokiba’s cheekbone before the brunette can even think twice about what he’s doing. Kurokiba hits his favourite wine collection and sends about half of the bottles crashing down, staining Nakiri’s carpets a deep burgundy in its wake. In his periphery, he can see Alice move to take her daggers, but Takumi quickly steps in the way of her rage. That doesn’t really register in his head. None of the noise and the panic and the tension does.

All he sees is red.

“She’s innocent!” Kurokiba doesn’t defend himself, letting the Italian’s knuckles paint bruises and cuts on his mouth and jaw. In the back of his head, Isami wonders if this is what his brother feels on the battlefield. Wonders if all that adrenaline and anger rushes to his brain as fast as it does to him. Isami has never wanted to hurt someone so bad, not even that rat Mimasaka. “She-wasn’t-supposed-” each syllable is accompanied by a fist. “-to-get-hurt!”

“Hey, calm down, buddy.” Yukihira’s grip is stronger than it looks as he quickly hooks his arms underneath Isami’s, effectively restraining the mafioso don’s movements. Not that it really does much considering he could always kick Kurokiba in the face just as easily (he does, and Alice’s aide falls back on his back, making no motion to stand up).

“I fucking trusted you, Kurokiba!” Isami lashes out, ignoring Yukihira’s continuously tightening hold of his extremities. The dark haired man sprawled in front of him twitches the slightest bit, and it’s all the signal Isami needs to tap into his fury once more. He hears a guttural scream and barely processes that it comes from him until Yukihira shouts his name again in order to placate him. He doesn’t understand why Yukihira is so calm, when he has known Megumi the longest, should care about her the most. Shouldn’t he be the one beating Kurokiba to a pulp for failing to protect her from a fucking gun shot?

“Let me go!” Isami seethes out, attempting to reach for the revolver stowed away in the deep recesses of his dark coat.

“Isami.”

There’s a chill in the air he hasn’t felt since he was just a boy. Takumi’s cold voice sends everyone to a halt. Isami can feel his heart pounding behind his ears, but pauses in his movements all the same. It’s the tone his brother uses during meetings with his chiefs of staff, the one that makes sure to remind everyone just how capable the young mafiaso really is.

“Yukihira, let go of him.” Takumi’s words are leveled and firm. Yukihira glances at his hold on the younger Italian, his eyes flitting from the seething brunette to Kurokiba’s shallow breathing. He hesitates for a moment, and it’s enough for Takumi to raise his voice once more. “I said, fucking let go of my brother, Yukihira.”

Yukihira drops his hold almost immediately after, and Isami goes down with it. His legs are shaking, knees giving out on him now that the adrenaline’s slowly seeping out of his body. Deep breaths, he reminds himself, in and out, in and out.

Takumi seizes his elbow harshly, dragging him into a standing position. Isami wobbles a little on his feet and can’t help the scoff from leaving his mouth. Way to remind them all that in spite of his significant height difference from his brother, he’s still the younger one. Isami doesn’t know if the vice grip on his arm is meant to reassure him that it will be fine, he’s there to be his anchor, or to threaten him, not another word Isami, we’ll talk about this later. Knowing his brother, it’s most likely both.

Isami doesn’t struggle, but refuses to mimic Takumi’s move to bow his head towards Alice in apology. Her bright red eyes are trained on him alone and even then he refuses to even meet her head on. He understands her rage, really he does, but he can’t find it in him to actually care. Not when the sheer amount of anger he feels at the moment feels ready to burst.

“I ought to kill your brother right now, Aldini,” she seethes, stepping protectively in front of Kurokiba’s weak body.

“I assure you, proper punishment will be dealt with later.” Isami doesn’t know how Takumi manages to sound so calm. Everything feels so numb that he doesn’t even realize that Takumi has been dragging him out the room far enough that they’ve reached the guest wing where they’ve been staying.

The blonde turns on his heels and looks ready to lash out, but stops himself short. Isami knows it must be something about the way he must be at the moment that leaves Takumi looking broken and lost. They must be thinking the same thing, his fear reflected in identical cerulean orbs.

He remembers Mama.

Takumi is by his side in a heartbeat, holding him close as he muffles his shouts and sobs into Takumi’s shoulder.

He tries to tell himself it’s because the events are so familiar, that he’s afraid to lose another person the same way. Doesn’t want to think of the alternative because that means he’ll only be putting Megumi in more danger than she already is.

one.

She’s playing with Floppy and Bagel when it hits Isami like a freight train. Straight to the gut, knocking the metaphorical wind out of his system as his eyes gradually start widening in shock. There’s nothing particularly special about the day, just another ordinary walk with his dogs and the woman he almost broke a decade’s worth of an alliance for (no big deal).

Jun has already warned her (and him, by extension) that she isn’t supposed to do anything tedious yet. Megumi obviously doesn’t think too much about the shoulder wound to avoid going on walks with some of the most hyperactive dogs she knows. Isami can practically see the look of disapproval the older doctor will be sending his way when the blue haired young woman comes shuffling inside the medic bay in need of new bandages from playing with animals.

Megumi laughs again when Floppy practically hounds on the young nurse to lick sloppy kisses on her face once more that he thinks, oh. He wants to kiss her too.

“Megumi-san,” he calls out to her with no real reason other than he wants her to look his way. Alice is right, Isami thinks, he really does have it bad. He doesn’t actually know what he wants to say next, but when she does look up at him, pretty amber eyes warm and soft in the way the light dances against it—

“May I kiss you?”

He can’t help the way the words roll of his tongue so easily. Megumi pauses, eyes widening and mouth dropping open the tiniest bit in a rush of breath. Her cheeks flush the prettiest red he has ever seen and it takes Isami another moment to actually register what he has said and another, very crucial, second to think of a way to salvage their moment.

“…is, is what Bagel would say!” He immediately holds up the unassuming beagle up to Megumi’s eye level, effectively blocking his view of her adorably shy face. Fuck, he does have it very, very bad and lets out a less-than-chill chuckle as he continues his excuse. “I mean — you’ve been playing with Floppy for a while, I’m sure Bagel’s getting jealous.”

The beagle in question seems to tilt her head to the side, staring curiously at the female before reaching out to tentatively lick her nose. Megumi takes another second before slowly letting out a nervous giggle, higher pitched and essentially slower than usual. Isami’s shoulders visibly deflate in relief when Megumi takes the dog from his hands and holds her up as high as her wounded shoulder will allow her.

“Oh, Bagel,” she coos and brings Bagel closer to her face to leave a soft, small peck on the top of her head, in between her ears. The beagle lets out a ruff in response. Floppy seems to think this conversation needs to include him, because the basset hound whines and bumps his head against Megumi’s calf in order to drive attention back to him. Isami can’t help the grin forming on his face at the sight of her, a little frantic as she tries to show affection to two very demanding dogs.

It all feels so domestic, now that Isami has the guts to think about it seriously. Searching for her to treat small things, accompanying her to her room at night, walking the dogs with her on sunny afternoons. Just the simple feeling of needing to be close to her. Isami feels all the guilt and the heaviness melt away at the sight of Megumi sighing contentedly as she reaches down to scratch Floppy on the back of his ears to try to placate him. He wonders, briefly, if this might be what it would look like should he leave it all behind. He wonders what it would be like for her to run away with him and his dogs and never look back. He wonders if it would be worth it.

Megumi laughs again and smiles at him, her bright eyes crinkling at the sides, and he forgets, momentarily, who he is and where they are and how different their worlds are. Isami’s chest warms.

Yeah, she would be worth it.

“Me too,” he finally, softly says again. When Megumi turns to blink back at him, wide-eyed and innocent and just so fucking beautiful is when he loses it. He sighs and leans in to rest his forehead against hers. Megumi’s face reddens considerably at the movement, but she doesn’t move from her spot next to him. She stammers with nonsensical words and nerves, but doesn’t budge from her spot. Their lips are dangerously close, and Isami can practically taste the cherry-flavoured lip gloss she’s wearing. “I’m a little jealous of them too, Megumi-san.”

“I, uhm, Isami—”

He steals a kiss and drops all pretenses.

#shokugeki no soma #megumi tadokoro #isami aldini #isamegu #mafia cooking kids #takumi aldini #yukihira souma #alice nakiri #mentions of #soutaku #and #hisaeri #pry these ships from my cold unfeeling hands #mayu writes #i hoPE U LIKE IT MEL MWA!! GOOD LUCK ON FINALS IN A FEW!!!!

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