#little angst with fluff at the end

[bitxhy-bookworm]

Sevika x Sensitive!Reader

Cw: slight anxiety attack, crying, hurt/comfort, swearing , established relationship

(also i didn’t proofread this- sorry)

It started out as one joke. Lighthearted and teasing, you even let out a geniune laugh. However one joke became two, until your whole friendgroup seems to be adding in their own version of the joke. Suddenly it didn’t feel like a tease, it felt like an attack. An attack on you, on the self esteem you work so hard to build. Next thing you know you’re not sitting at the last drop giggling with your friends, now you’re a kid again and everyone’s laughing at you for some joke you’ll never be apart of. You know this is crazy, it’s not half as big of a deal as you’re making it in your head but the sinking pit in your stomach and the pain in your throat make it feel like your fighting a war. And you are losing…terribly. Despite the feeling of all your insecurities attacking you at once, you keep an amused look on your face the whole night. It’s not everyone else’s fault you can’t handle a little joke, why ruin the mood cause you’re a crybaby?

You walk into you and Sevika’s shared apartment later that night, exhausted and ready to collapse. You kick your shoes off and allow your mind to relax or try to relax. Instead the only thing on repeat is that joke, was it a joke? Do they actually feel that way and tried to hide it with humour? You’ve never been great with expressions and social cues, maybe they all secretly hate you and this is their way of showing it? You feel hot tears begin to fall down your face and your chest starts to feel a little too tight. You hardly notice the sound of footsteps as you press your back against the door, trying to find anything to support you as your legs start to shake.

“Baby?…” a voice calls out, Sevika, her voice tired and groggy. God you probably woke her up with all this crying. “Oh love, what’s going on?” The sound of concern is evident in her voice, when you finally open your eyes to look at her all you can feel is guilt. She looks like she’s just woken up and here you are sobbing on the floor…the thought makes you cry harder. Why can’t you just pull it together already? You feel her arms wrap around you as she hushes you soothingly, “It’s alright, beautiful. I’m here, you’re safe.” She repeats this phrase along with a few more loving affirmations as she feels your body begin to relax and your breathes return to normal. She pulls away after a few more moments, giving you some space to collect your thoughts. You look at Sevika, then down at the floor slightly embarassed.

This isn’t the first time she’s seen you like this, living together has it’s ups and downs and you’ve both seen your fair share of breakdowns. Despite this, you can’t help but feel like you were doing too much. “Sorry about all that, I dont…i dont know where that came from..” You say, hoping that you can just brush past it fat chance.

Sevika looks completely unconvinced, “Sweetheart, that didn’t come out of nowhere.” She leaves no room for arguement, there is no malice or anger but no humour either. She says your name softly, gazing at you with a pleading look in her eyes. “Hun..you’ve been doing so much better lately, especially with talking these things out. We don’t need to talk about it right now but dont shut me out..please” goddamn it, that face, her voice..you never stood a chance. “Ok…but can I change first? I need to get out of these clothes” You say, breaking eye contact before her eyes make you do anything else.

You crawl into bed with sevika a few moments later, now in much more comfortable clothes. Sevika places her book down and turns her attention to you, at first you say nothing opting to curl into her arms instead. She smiles at how adorable you look, much more relaxed and those pesky tears tracks gone. You tell her everything, the joke and how it felt. The insecurity that followed and how it became too much too quickly. Her heart breaks when you look at her and ask if she feels the same way, “I won’t be mad if you do, i just..I feel stupid I guess. Like there’s this big joke everyone but me is in on…” you trail off as you feel her grip tighten, as if she could lose you to your own thoughts. “Baby look at me,” you do.

“None of that is true, not even close and none of your friends feel that way. I know you don’t want to kill the mood but you have to say something when you feel like this, I know they wouldn’t want you feeling this way either.” Her tone is firm but gentle, you know she’s right.

“I know, it’s just scary..I don’t want to make everyone stop having fun to cater to my fragile ass ego-“ “you are not fragile, not even close. But you are human, and humans feel and you feel especially deep. That’s nothing to be ashamed or embarassed of.” She takes her hand and places it on your chest “I love your heart, you’re so passionate and empathetic, so what if you cry a little harder or get worked up a little easier? That doesn’t make you fragile, it makes you extraordinary.” You feel tears well up in your eyes and you bury your face in the crook of her neck, “god Sev, quit sweet talking me or I’m gonna start crying again.” You say, giggling as she hugs you tightly one more time.

“Cry all you need baby, I’ve got you”

[asteropewpew]

dearest shooting star 🌠

loving anaxagoras felt similar to the momentary awe whenever you spot a shooting star. that quick, brilliant flash of light streaking across the midnight sky, so vivid and arrogantly defiant against the moon.

i shine brighter than you, it would say to the soft glow of the moonlight illuminating the late night. this shooting star was so bright that it seemingly cut a large swathe across like very definite sword strike, all the while burning up the rest of itself during the end of their cosmic journey. so look only at me.

"Your students looked quite... apoplectic." You look observed, tone filled with knowing amusement as you watched his students amble their way out of his classroom with varying expressions of frustration. Or in some cases, with a look of absolute vengeance. "A lively morning earlier then, yes?"

Anaxagoras doesn't quite chuckle, but the small, involuntary huff as his lips curved slightly in smug glee gives away his current sentiment regarding his students. His form tilted slightly forward as he turned to face you, a pair of vivid seafoam eyes gleaming brightly with all the knowledge and intellect that captivated your attention like a treacherous lure.

It's both fortunate and unfortunate (for your heart), that your own class ends at just around the time that his class ends—with the bell tolling overhead to signal the students to do a self-study session (or exchange shared moments of misery) at numerous amphitheaters or at the central library of the Grove.

"As always, our class ended with another debate."

"About the gods, Professor?"

"Naturally." Given his rather vocal stance as a blasphemer, it was no surprise that his students had seen fit to challenge him to yet another debate. More likely in hopes to humble him rather than commit to any intellectual exchange, you mused. "And as always, they are infuriated whenever I poke out the holes in their arguments."

"Their collective spite would end up with you getting killed one day, you know?" A lie. For as notorious as Anaxagoras had been in criticizing the actions of the Flame-Chase Journey right alongside, his students had somehow decided that he was deserving of their gifts and...other knick knacks that you were most definitely sure were priceless antiques.

Poor Hyacine who's been given more work by the rising mess around his office, no doubt. Although Anaxagoras' new student named Phainon had been mentioned as some sort of precious antique collector and appraiser, which made organizing things much easier, if any.

"If they commit as much dedication to verbally eviscerate me on court trials and debates, they should focus it on their thesis proposals." The sneer in his face made your lips quirk into a smile.

"You should really stop goading your cute little students, Professor Anaxagoras."

He opened his mouth, likely retorting his favorite correction before realization caught his would-be misstep. The small "tch" made your smile widen even as he shot you a warning glare, not missing your clear attempt at throwing him off despite following his numerous insistence regarding the matter with his name. "Telling me how to handle my students now, Professor?"

It should feel criminal how your name comes out of his mouth in a slow, lilting drawl. Almost indulging, if you were to entertain your own fanciful whispers.

"Just a word of advice as a fellow lecturer." But his unimpressed look told you as much about just how convincing your excuse is.

loving anaxagoras felt like loving a shooting star. there is joy in catching that moment of fleeting beauty across the sky, knowing that it would forever be different from any other shooting stars in the world. but like all things, even shooting stars are unforgiving towards their admirers.

they were utterly beautiful in their destruction, the broken fragments carrying with it such a devastating power that perhaps a part of you would break in return; echoing the shatter of a brilliant celestial body with your own hapless heart.

"What did you do?" You rushed to ask, voice trembling ever so slightly as you looked at the ragged exhaustion across Anaxagoras' face.

"Merely created something that puts us in equal standing with the gods." He sounded victorious, as if the price of his triumph wasn't riddled with blood and pain. Anaxagoras looked inappropriately disheveled, clothes rumpled and singed at some of the hems—pale blue hair clinging to his face that was full of grime and sweat and a few cuts here and there. "And I have succeeded in finally making it useable."

There are tremors in his hands, visible ones and you couldn't take your eyes away from the inflamed skin where the bright red of the Philosopher's stone adorned his right hand. Instantly, you feel the impossibly heavy weight of his trust in allowing you inside his personal alchemical laboratory.

There's a myriad of things that you could say to him, and yet all of it would make you nothing more than a hypocrite who allowed the one that you cherished most to completely ruin himself in pursuit of knowledge. All those years that had you faithfully shadowing him in his unquenchable thirst for answers, barely managing to reel him back just in time before he truly hurtled towards the deep end.

All those years of endless exasperation and countless debates as you hurried to catch up to him, all of it cultivated into biting back down a few choices of words directed at his dangerous recklessness. "Really? Treating yourself so poorly while you're in an experimental binge doesn't quite count as a logical course of action."

You hurriedly knelt down beside him as you brought out a roll of fresh bandages from your satchel, and he was mindful enough to not give you much grief as he obediently placed his trembling hands in your hands.

"Am I ever in danger with my own experiments?" His retort made you purse your lips as you carefully started tending to his wounds, a deep frown crossing your face for all that your hands remained gentle in treating his injuries.

The silence that followed, was a little stifled. Even with you, as immersed in your irritation and worries, didn't fail to notice the tension lining over his shoulders.

"This won't be the last." In the end, it was Anaxagoras who broke the silence, sounding a little gruff as he ducked his head to avoid your gaze. "I still need to find the answers to my new questions... far too many thing—"

"Be that as it may," you interrupted his halfhearted reasons with a pointed glare, "you are still expected to teach your own students instead of passing all them off to me every time you get possessed in doing your experiments!"

He tilted his head in consideration, as if only belatedly recalling that he had spent longer in his laboratory than he had expected.

"The brats should know better than compare you with me." The stupid, foolish, heretic scholar with one of the sharpest minds of today, missed your very non-subtle show of concern. Amazing. Truly a mind of the ages indeed. "And besides, you're the only one that wouldn't revise my lesson plan without consulting me first. Or make those impressionable students learn something that they shouldn't waste their time."

"No, I just want to get them off me because I'm tired of grading forty students every week on two different subjects."

"..." The foolish professor didn't even try to object, knowing better than to test your limits.

You also refrained from pointing out that his students have this weird tendency to debate with any professors that even dared to make them stray off his meticulous curriculum, for all that they are keen to put him through the wringer for at least once before they could graduate. "No personal laboratory time for at least a while."

"You can't possibly demand that of me."

The smile on your face dared him to argue any further than this. "I believe Hyacine would appreciate being notified of your... occupational injuries."

There's another beat of silence, but it was a little easier this time. Familiar.

Although your worries still made your chest grow tight, his disgruntled look soothed something within you as he obediently tilted his head up for you to dab at the small cuts and abrasions across his face.

Even more, the victory was sweeter when Anaxagoras eventually grumbled in defeat.

loving anaxagoras felt a little like condemning yourself to watching the fleeting destruction of a shooting star. you, a criminal who was sentenced to chase and watch the one that you loved the most, meet his own end with the most joyous laugh that you've heard from him.

anaxagoras who would completely burn up himself upon reaching the zenith of his journey, content in defying the tranquility of the evening night in a blaze of brilliant light. the false sky, as he had claimed, with eyes sparkling like the simulated constellations in the astronomy laboratory where alchemy fabricates a sky without the threat of aquila's temperamental gaze.

how you wanted, to valiantly preserve that shine without losing the brilliance that belonged to anaxagoras and his endless curiosity. except he was the kind of person who was never meant to be caged, confined and conforming to conventional ideas.

because he was always and foremost, meant to be free.

(and you could only hope that he can come back to you from time to time, if his time permits it; which was a factor that was slowly getting dwindling with each passing day.)

...Perhaps you'd have known it then, that he wouldn't simply just stop at embedding a Philosopher's stone in his right hand. That nothing could truly ever satiate his thirst in finding out the intricacies wrapped around Amphoreus and the ever-enduring Flame-Chase journey.

That he would embody your most favorite celestial body in all its vivid, and gut-wrenching beauty like this.

"Anaxa—are you crazy?!"

You saw him, slumped over the pillars of the central table while the contents in his personal laboratory which looked as if a veritable storm had swept upon it. Potions and vials lay shattered all over the ground, his alchemical gun lying innocuously beside him while numerous papers full of almost unrecognizable scrawls were scattered on the floor.

For a brief, frightening moment, you feared the worst.

"My name...is Anaxa...goras," he rasped after a moment, lone eye a little dull and unfocused as he struggled to recollect his thoughts when you rushed over to him. "Do not...call me Anaxa."

"And very soon, those words will be your last words if you don't get to the Courtyard as fast you can!" Panic was laced in your voice as you tried to check whether he had any debilitating injuries that require a mad dash to the Courtyard.

(Thin. He's thinner again.)

"This is a...culmination of my life's research and a milestone...regarding my capabilities," he argued, wheezing as he bared his teeth in an attempt to hide his pain when he tried to shift his position as you carefully prodded at his form.

"Which would be utterly useless if you don't make a patent of it while you're still alive," you snapped, finally letting out a breath when your preliminary search yielded nothing but a couple of bruises and symptoms of dehydration alongside exhaustion. "Have you truly decided to throw your life away like the foolish blasphemer that you are?"

Ever since he came back from that one conversation with Empedocles after he'd lost his eye, you know that he was a little different.

Sharper perhaps, much more intense as he had been before. Yet he looked perpetually weary, for all that his back stood tall and unwavering while handing out criticisms and advice for his students and fellow scholars.

As if he was always desperately running towards something that remained just out of reach.

"Why...do you care anyway? You're always so...meddlesome." The question made your heart grow still. It felt like being in the middle of Aidonia's harshest snowstorm, the wind howling at your foolishness for daring to even hope. "Don't you understand...why I must...do this?"

He is so thoughtlessly cruel at times, your dearest shooting star.

"I can't accept that what you're doing is so important that you would throw away your entire life for it." You didn't beg, but all of your emotions saturated each and every word. "Please, just take a break, Anaxagoras. There is time. You have time."

"Nothing is more important than seeing the Truth...of the false sky." His voice was hoarse, yet unwavering with the weight of his own conviction and obsessive desire. "And proving that...the Flame-Chase journey is not so linear in its approach. Everything else...was just an afterthought."

"Perhaps I had thought too highly of our time spent together." It hurt, when you could sense nothing but the genuine truth laced in his words. He's definitely suffered some sort of altered mental status right now, but it did little to lessen the sting. "And that my effort towards a dear colleague and companion, was nothing more than a show of charity in your eyes."

Anaxagoras didn't speak, nor did he even need to, as he had finally passed out in abject exhaustion and pain-filled sleep.

(Perhaps it was the best, that he couldn't hear the bitter disappointment in your voice.)

You allowed yourself a look, a last glance, feeling like you've swallowed knives with each indication of self-neglect over his form. His clothes were bigger than it should be on him, not to the point of fright but enough just to indicate how much he's foregone sustenance at least multiple times. Likewise, there's a clear expression of exhaustion in his face. His clothes were disheveled, likely from his latest stunt more than an unconscious habit—but he looked utterly... small in that moment.

It would be easy to hate him. To rage and hate his foolishness, the ease in how he discarded his own present in favor of crafting a future that he had decided that was not his to see. The sheer hypocrisy by how passionate he was in insisting the sanctity of life and autonomy over "misguided notions" of honor and obligation, when each of his choices had contributed to his eventual ruin.

But you couldn't.

Despite all your frustrations and concerns, you never would be able to hate him for as much as you cherish him.

You know you were not so important as to be able to anchor his feet, but you can't help but wish you were.

loving anaxa meant suffering from daring to attempt that you could handle the intensity of a shooting star. it's like being a moth drawn to his vibrant flame, helplessly oblivious to the eventual agony of being burned alive.

you loved still loved your shooting star who had captivated your attention so tightly, before he spirited your heart away from your hands without any intention of returning it. nor even trying to take care of it.

anaxagoras was a great many things, but he was also utterly oblivious at the best of times. you should have created a boundary with him early on, to rein in your feelings as soon as your traitorous heart thundered at the sight of his bright, satisfied smile.

(but you didn't. and equally hurt and filled you with humility for every time you could see a part of anaxa that perhaps few or rather, none had ever been privy to see it.)

your blasphemer was always meant for great things, regardless if he would be scorned or admired for his actions.

and you could only watch and try to help him when he has burned himself too early in his journey towards searching for the truth of this world.

the astronomy laboratory was one of your favorite ventures, and you keep to your silence even as the door opened to welcome the familiar clack of footsteps coming towards the center of the laboratory.

"...I didn't know that there's someone using the astronomy laboratory."

"It's occupied." your voice was clipped, sparing only the barest words as you didn't bother to turn around and acknowledge the illustrious anaxagoras. there was a brief pause, before you heard a rustling sound as he carefully sat down beside you.

ever since that day, when you had rushed anaxagoras into the courtyard after he had collapsed, you decided to keep your distance. a futile attempt at drawing a boundary when you've already reached a point in no return, but you held strong even when hyacine had cautiously asked if you would like to visit him even just once.

it was more for your sake than his, and you were confident that he wouldn't even notice—for all that he's dedicated his focus and attention to his dogged pursuit of the truth.

"You weren't present to the general meeting with all the Professors." it took everything in you not to flinch when you felt the weight of his gaze on the side of your face.

"I was busy." you were very much grateful that the darkness hid much of your expression as you drew your knees close to yourself.

"Busy with what?" he probed, because he never did have a sense of self-restraint when it comes to satiating his curiosity. "Hyacine told me that you asked to be relieved of another class to handle. And that you also applied for a...sabbatical leave."

the latter sentence echoed his mystified confusion, the notion of a vacation apparently being a foreign one to the foolish scholar.

"I'm accompanying Hyacine and Phainon on their usual visit back to Okhema." there, that should be enough to get him off your back and leave.

except it doesn't.

"You've never shown any interest in leaving the Grove for that holy city." it was evident how poorly he had regarded the capital with the eternal light, and you've heard his sentiments regarding a certain chrysos heir residing in the city often enough to understand his position.

but you didn't care much for that.

what pricked at your still smarting heart was—

"I don't need to report to you nor justify any of my actions to you for anything, Professor Anaxagoras." you replied, voice chillingly cold and void of your hurt as much as you can. "As you have made yourself quite clear on my interference to your pursuit of knowledge."

There was another pause, the fabric of his coat rustling as he abruptly moved closer to you.

"That day when you rushed me into the courtyard," his voice was faintly urgent, promptly you to finally give a glance at his pinched expression with a carefully distant look. except the faint unease within his piercing eyes made your traitorous heart flutter once again. "Did I say anything?"

this close, you could see that hyacine's work had lessened the exhaustion and overall gauntness of the scholar's face. despite you still childishly holding on to your anger, you felt a tension within you finally relax.

"Nothing but the truth, Professor." it was maddening, how your anger was quietly doused by seeing just how much he had recovered (even if you could still sense an air of weariness around him).

"That's not—" anaxagoras tsked, ever astute in deducing a hint from your response. "I said something."

you kept silent, because you refuse to be considered a puzzle where he would look for clues to satisfy his own questions. no, it would hurt you far too much if he treated what had happened as nothing more than a logical problem to be straightened out.

(it would be like holding out your still mending heart for him to destroy.)

"Whatever it was, it was enough for you to refuse a visit to me at the ward." the intensity in his gaze proved too much, and you ducked your head to look away from him. you saw his hand make an aborted move towards you, before it stopped and curled into a tight fist. "It happened when you caught me in my personal laboratory, and I was cognizant enough to respond but not enough to retain the memories of our brief interaction before you brought me to the Courtyard. You're angry. And I hurt you."

your foolish scholar had known nothing but the thorny path that would lead to his goals, and it was your own foolish decision to chase after him like a persistent shadow. in the end, everything can be traced back to your own decision to accompany him for so long—like that hapless moth who was drawn to the raging inferno that was anaxagoras the blasphemer.

you knew that he would change the world, at any and at all costs. even if the damning price was to ruin himself in the process.

"What did I say?" he asked again and... abruptly, you felt very tired.

forget it.

"It's alright," you murmured, finally looking up to give him a lopsided smile. don't worry, went unheard. "It was...my fault more than yours."

there was another pause again, before he spoke again.

"I am in need of a...companion for Hyacine to finally relinquish her watch on me." he said, stumbling over a particular word while you gave an inquiring hum.

you like to think that you know the undertone of his statement. don't go.

but you never truly left him, even in the height of your anger and hurt. hyacine would never fail to give you updates regarding his wellbeing and any additional expenses quietly paid for by you (under the guise of an anonymous benefactor), and combined with her stubbornness and the threat of making ika sit on his chest was enough for him to veer off from going back to his laboratory far too soon.

"...I can do that." it would be another story if you saw his main table and be reminded of how you initially saw him, but that was a thing for the future.

his shoulders slumping over slightly made a smile finally crack across your face, and he swiftly closed the remaining distance to rest his weight against yours.

"Good." and he sounded like he meant it.

you know that anaxagoras doesn't apologize for his actions, not because of pride but because he would not regret any of the actions that he had made. that each of his actions were driven with a purpose that would ultimately bring him closer to his goals.

when his hand carefully rested above yours after a while, the warmth spoke more than his clumsy attempts at making it for his apparent misstep. you gazed back upon the twinkling constellations, with the weight of anaxagoras' presence sitting close to your side.

your shooting star, if only for a moment, paused in his relentless pursuit to accompany you for the night.

it wasn't quite an apology, but it was more than enough.

(p.s. first time trying to do this so please tell me your thoughts? would you also want an anaxa pov to compliment this hehe)

[harrywavycurly]

Summary: Harry has been single for so long that he’s come to the realization that maybe he’s just not meant to be with anyone, and while he’s fine with that it has become slightly concerning to some of the people in his life because they can’t remember the last time Harry was seen in the studio. His longtime friend and manager Jeff is worried the spark that keeps Harry inspired and motivated is gone and he thinks it’s mainly due to one thing, Harry’s lack of a love life. So what does he do? He takes matters into his own hands and gets Harry a companion bot, and that bot is you and while it’s not a total guaranteed love match Jeff is hoping you’ll at least get the creative juices flowing and help get Harry back in the studio. But what happens is something no one expects leaving Jeff with a choice to make.

This series shows how Harry’s life changes the moment he “accidentally” runs into you at a party and how he makes you feel things you don’t think you’re supposed to be feeling, maybe it’s a glitch or maybe it’s just you’ve found your match.💗

Pairing: Harry Styles x fem!bot Reader

A/N: This series is based on the movie Companion, you don’t need to watch it to understand this series because I am changing things a bit. Also this series is going to be angsty just a warning, now it will be fluffy as well but don’t say I didn’t warn you when you’re going through it for a bit. And if this isn’t your thing that’s fine! We don’t judge over here my loves!💗

CW: Language, manipulation (Jeff is a bit of a dick is this), drinking, angst, bit of gaslighting, controlling behavior, possessiveness, jealousy, a smidge of emotional abuse, tension and possible smut(don’t quote me lol).

Tag List: Open

Posting Schedule: Every Other Friday💗

Extras: Here

Part 1: Does She Know?

Part 2: Wrecking Ball

Part 3: What Do You Mean?

[rainychaoloveshack]

May I request Shadow or mobian!reader in a time loop. One of them is stuck, the other is blissfully unaware and won’t remember every time it’s reset. You can pick who is stuck! They are Asking for help and then the other giving a sudden smooch? Maybe more… than a smooch? Little heated if you so desire. They’re not yet together, or aware of the other persons feelings until that little kiss. After the loop is fixed, it’s awkward cause the one that was stuck in the loop knows. Like what’s the aftermath shsosnszk

ﾟ ⋆ ﾟ ☂︎ ⋆ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐝. 𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐡𝐨𝐠.

you’ll love shadow even after every reset possible. no matter what.

⋆°•☁︎ content . shadow x gn!reader, angst to light fluff, friends to lovers, slight suggestive material warning. light mention of not eating/drinking for days, implied depression.

☂︎ wc. 1.6k ☂︎ a/n. i loved this request sm. like this one just spoke to my angsty soul. might be the longest thing here yet; sorry its too long ^^’ srry this took a while! i was flip flopping on who i wanted to be stuck ^^’

likes, reblogs, and especially comments are extremely appreciated!!! (i like chatting to you guys!)

Two hundred and thirty-six days. That's how many times you’ve watched the clock strike twelve exactly on Saturday, signaling to you the day had started over again. Never to watch the next day pass. Forced to live everyday like its a new one, yet still subject to HIS charming nature, even if he’s so stubborn in the way he shows his affection towards you.

You try your best to switch up the routines as you go nowadays, trying to excite your life, yet nothing ever works. The clock strikes twelve as it always does. At this point, it’s become numb; infuriatingly so. Some days you’ll gain that motivation back to try something different, whether it be surrounding yourself with new people to serve as a distraction, or trying to dig deeper into the cause of your time loop, to no avail. And other days you rot inside your room, staring at the clock on the wall, watching it tick. And tick. And tick, until it hits twelve again.

Some days you’ll forget to eat and drink, sometimes on purpose, first finding comfort in that pitting feeling in your stomach, finally feeling something after so long, but soon falling numb to that feeling too.

The only reason you have the strength to keep going is the belief that you’ll see your friends again. No matter what. In your timeline, without any interference.

Nothing changed today. Another day wasted, yet someone raps on your door sharply, forcing you to open your eyes gently and utter a small ‘okay’ to let them in.

… This hasn’t happened before. Why is he here?

“You’ve been stuck in here all day.” Shadow grumbles as he pushes your door open, the door squeaking on its hinges, with the moonlight already shining through your blowing curtains. “Have you even gotten out of bed today?” He says sternly, walking over to your bedside and nudging you, causing you to stir out of your resting state. You had already given up for today, so the plan was to just fall asleep until tomorrow.

‘Tomorrow’... What a dream tomorrow is to you.

Turning over, you meet his crimson eyes with a dull sigh leaving your lips, briefly glancing over to the clock set on the wall.

10:35 PM. It’s almost twelve. One more hour. One and a half.

He shifts his weight to one of his feet, setting a hand on his hip as he growls down at you. “No one saw you today, so Sonic told me to go and check on you. Especially since it’s this late and you’ve been missing for all of today.” He scoffs, clearly aggravated at your lack of energy or action. “You couldn’t at least tell one person that you 're going to stay inside all day?” Your blankets drop down to your lap as you sit up slowly, peering up at him through the blurry haze of your mind.

“At least I know you’re alive.” He says, walking over to your covered window to peel the curtains back, letting the moonlight illuminate your room with a soft, white glow. “Come on.” Shadow sits across from you on the bed, tugging the blankets away from you to encourage you to get up.

Why is he so persistent? Why can’t he just leave you alone? But even then, he’s still so…

Lovely.

Suddenly, tears prick and poke at the back of your eyes, welling up to the corners as they threaten to spill out and drip down your cheeks. Shadow stares at you as you hang your head low, refusing to meet his gaze as you try to shove that feeling away, despising that feeling of your throat tightening, even if you’ve begged to feel something other than despair for the longest time.

Of course. He doesn’t know what to do, but he’s still so charming…

“[Name]?” His hand presses against your calf under the blanket, slightly leaning forward to see the tears fall on your face, your shoulders trembling. “Wh-What’s wrong? Is it me?” A tremble flows through his hand; barely noticeable to someone who wouldn’t be paying attention to such a small detail. “[Name], tell me what’s wrong. Why’re you crying so suddenly?” Shadow murmurs, grabbing you by your shoulders to try to ease your worries.

Tell him. Tell him. Tell him you’ve been living every day hoping it’s the last one. Praying to be ripped from this curse. Tell him Tell him Tell him Tell him Tell him Tell him Tell him Tell him Tell him Tell him Tell him Tell him Tell him Tell him Tell him Tell him Tell him

“What?” Shadow’s ear flicks in an odd manner, clearly confused at your sudden declaration. “I’m sorry? … Time-looping?”

And so you shatter. Break in front of his eyes; incessant ramblings about you feel like you’re going insane, yet the only thing to bring you back down to earth is getting to see him everyday on this agonizing, pitiful day. 

Something in his heart really does want to believe in you, truly. Although disbelief stands present in his head, he’ll reach out to you anyway. No matter what.

“[Name].” he utters your name, his gloved hand grazing your cheek to wipe a stray tear away. “I…” Shadow stares into your eyes, trying to fight back the shock from showing on his face. His hands twitch as he reaches out for yours, grazing the back of your palm. “If you really think that you’re… Looping; then I believe you. I promise.”

What?

This is different. New. Two hundred and thirty-six times. Never had something like this happened before. Two hundred and thirty-six. Two hundred and thirty-six. Two hundred and thirty-six days. Five thousand six hundred and sixty-four hours. 

It feels like your head is going to split into two, pulled and ripped apart by the hour and minute hand. It’s agonizing. But it’s something.

“[Name].” Shadow tilts your head up from your chin to face him. “I…” It looks like he’s at a loss for words, not that you blame him. 

“Come here.” He says softly, beckoning you closer to him with two fingers. What in the world does he want? Even though you ask multiple questions in your head, you lean in closer anyway to-

Huh?

His lips brush against yours, and it’s slow but sweet; still hesitant before he presses them further onto you, nipping at your bottom lip, almost desperate for something more. Deeper. Deeper. Even more so.

“[Name],” he growls in between pants, his voice trembling at the end of your name. “[Name], [Name], [Name], [Name]...” Shadow keeps on saying in between your kisses and breaths for air, almost like a record constantly on repeat. His palms press into your shoulders, pinning you down on the bed, as he leans over your trembling form. His eyes dart to the clock hanging on the wall, before looking back at you, cupping one of your cheeks.

He really feels the same way about you? He does? Your head subconsciously leans into his touch, pressing your face against his hand, desperately wanting- No. You have to feel the warmth coming from him.

“I’ll use whatever time I have left to spend it here with you. Even once it hits twelve; you have my word.” He whispers, leaning in to kiss you again…

Your head's pounding, the blankets laying heavy on your body this morning. Strangely heavy. Ugh. The mental toll of last night might be hitting you already, even if it’s another reset.

Wait, no, it’s not the blanket. If it’s not the blanket, it’s…

“How’re you feeling?” Shadow murmurs, raising his head off your chest to look at you directly. It’s really nerve-racking… But not in a bad way, somehow. “Are you sore anywhere?”

His question makes you cock your head to the side in confusion. Sore? Why would you be-

No. More importantly, what in the world is he doing in your bed? The day starts with your alarm ringing, but it hasn’t done so at all. In fact, it’s later than you would usually wake up; the clock’s hands say so.

Wait. So it’s really Sunday? Is it?!

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Shadow chuckles softly at your bewildered face, opening his mouth again to respond, but your arms toss around him, bear-hugging his body tight against yours.

“Ah, okay, okay, you’re happy; I get it…” Shadow grumbles, starting to pull away from you, but the tears welling up in the corners of your eyes makes him stop his protesting movements immediately, reaching up to wipe them away. “Oh come on, don’t start crying again.”

… Again? 

Your happy sobs are cut short by your own shock; this morning is getting both happier and weirder by the second. Again? So that means he knows it all? Everything?

A rare smile spreads across his muzzle, his eyes staring thoughtfully into yours. “Two hundred and thirty-six times…” Shadow starts, brushing his hand across your shoulder, and your face heats up gradually at the mention of the number coming from him. “So you really were telling the truth.”

You never told him that number. No way. Shouldn’t it just be like another reset?! Did he really remember your breakdown? No way, no way…

“When you mentioned the loop, something was telling me you were right, even if it sounded absurd.” He says, pausing his thoughts to think a bit harder about the situation. During this, he lifts himself off your body to sit at the edge of your bed, stretching his arms out in front of him. “I just…” He mumbles, his voice softening with his own strange embarrassment. “If it was really a time loop like you said, I wanted to try something I knew I wouldn’t regret.”

All time stuff aside, something else is nagging at your mind…

Did you two really do all that stuff last night?

Shadow peers over at you, before turning his head away; surely holding back some laughter by the way his shoulders shake, cupping his hand over his mouth.

“It’s nothing; don’t worry about it, then.”

(the set-up took longer than i thought it would, sorry for the yapping…)

[fics-and-quotes-andthelike]

A Dance in Death

Title: A Dance in Death

Pairing: Alastor x fem!reader

Word Count: ~3,927

In which Alastor takes the reader out to Mimzy’s club. Things go sideways much too soon, but the Radio Demon is quick to make amends.

A/N: Part 2 of sorts to my Never and Always series. Hope you enjoy!

Part 1

Mimzy’s speakeasy was most known for three things. 

One, it was known for its captivating acts and performances. Demons and sinners from all around Pentagram City had heard stories and whispers about what could be experienced there. Two, it was known for being one of the most lively and entertaining places on this side of Hell. And three, it was known for being on the wrong side of town, making it the perfect place for no-good demons to spend their time and even do discrete business, so long as they paid their dues to Mimzy, of course.

That last point probably should have kept you away from this place. But you couldn’t help but feel safe knowing that you had come on the arm of the Radio Demon himself. After all, who would dare approach you with Alastor around?

Nobody, as it turned out. You and Alastor had been sitting in a corner booth for almost an hour now, and nobody had dared to come within ten feet of you, save for one unfortunate server who had graciously provided you both with your drinks before scurrying off and hiding, not coming back even once.

And although you enjoyed any time that you got to spend alone with Alastor, you couldn’t help but notice that the two of you were both on edge that night. 

You, on one hand, simply wanted to dance. It wasn’t often that you were able to go to bars or speakeasies, and you would have loved nothing more than to lead the demon across from you on to the dancefloor. But you knew better than that. Alastor’s interest in you came with limits that you hadn’t yet discovered, but you’d be double-damned if you were going to find them out tonight.

Although you had to admit, as you gazed out longingly at the dancing demons on the floor, that you wouldn’t mind at least trying to share a drink and a conversation with your partner. But that wouldn’t happen until Mimzy finally decided to saunter over to your table.

Which led you to the reason for Alastor’s impatience.

The whole reason that he had invited you out tonight was because Mimzy had requested an audience with him at her place of business. To discuss what, you weren’t sure, but you knew that the Radio Demon hated to be kept waiting. 

His impatience was starting to become evident, though it was likely that nobody around you noticed anything amiss. You, however, had become well versed in reading Alastor’s silent cues.

He had yet to touch his drink, though his clawed hand was firmly wrapped around the glass. He was surveying the building with apparent disinterest, but you could see the way that his sharp gaze roamed over each and every other demon and sinner present. You could see tension in the corners of his ever present smile, even though his eyes were hooded in an expression of mild boredom.

As you downed the last drops of your drink, you risked a glance over to Alastor once again. You had wanted to strike up a conversation since you had stepped foot through the door, but hadn’t wanted to distract him from his thoughts. But when his grip around the glass tightened once again, your internal war finally ended. It wouldn’t do anyone any good to have him suddenly lose his composure and bring the whole place to the ground.

You cleared your throat lightly as you placed your glass back down on the table. You received Alastor’s attention immediately, his eyes darting over to yours. “Yes, my dear?”

You smiled back at him. “Mimzy has a lot of nerve hyping this place up when it has such terrible customer service, doesn’t she?”

With no small amount of satisfaction, you noticed Alastor’s smile ease into something that almost resembled kind amusement. “Indeed,” Alastor hummed. “Though I must say, her choice in song is quite enjoyable.”

You shrugged, looking back at the dance floor. “It’s fine to dance to, I suppose. Not so much fun when you’re stuck sitting and waiting for someone to show up.”

There was no response. You returned your gaze to Alastor to see him looking at you almost curiously. “I wasn’t aware that you were one for dancing, my dear.”

A laugh bubbled up and pushed its way through your lips before you could stop it. You pressed your fingers to your lips to try and conceal it as Alastor tilted his head at you in confused interest.

At the sound of your laughter, his shadow suddenly perked up, quickly making its way over and sitting beside you.

When your giggle had finally subsided, you opened your mouth to respond to Alastor’s comment. It wasn’t completely his fault that he knew so little about your past life, after all, but you hadn’t expected that he, of all people, would make such blatant assumptions.

Before you could get a word out, though, the shadow placed a clawed hand under your chin, tilting your head to face it. Its fingers wandered until they reached the base of your throat before gently clawing their way back up, almost as if trying to coax another laugh out of you through touch alone.

It was so much more intimate than you had thought Alastor was capable of.

But then Alastor waved a hand in the air, summoning his shadow back to his side. It obeyed almost immediately, caressing your throat once more before melting back into the floor and returning to its rightful place. 

You cleared your throat again, this time in an attempt to fight the red spots on your cheeks. Not that their presence had escaped Alastor’s notice. His smile had widened dramatically, though thankfully, he chose not to comment on the interaction, instead waiting for a response to his earlier comment.

“I do dance,” you finally replied, looking back up at the Overlord. “I used to dance plenty before…well, you know,” you said with a small grin. “I died.”

Alastor waved away your comment with a flourish. “Ah, yes, I do see how such a thing could impede on your abilities for a moment. Though, if I’m not mistaken, you now have two perfectly functioning legs.”

“But I haven’t been to a club since before I died. And there’s not much opportunity to show off my moves at the hotel,” you replied with a shrug. You tilted your head at the demon. “And you? Do you dance?”

The Overlord smiled wistfully. “Oh yes, I was quite known for my dancing abilities back in the land of the living.”

“I thought you were known for being a mass murdering radio host.”

Alastor shrugged, giving you a devious grin. “I’ve always been multitalented, my dear.”

You laughed again, this time trying to ignore the eager look you received from both Alastor and his shadow.

“You know,” you said slyly once you had calmed yourself, looking down at your empty glass. “I wouldn’t mind brushing up on my skills tonight after your meeting.” You looked up innocently, meeting Alastor’s eyes. “If you haven’t lost your impeccable skills, that is.”

The demon’s eyes flashed. “Careful, mon chere. I-”

“Alastor! How’re you doing, doll?”

You whipped your head around at the sound of the new voice. You stared as a short, blonde woman made her way across the floor, arms raised in welcome and a broad smile on her face. 

Alastor, on the other hand, didn’t seem at all bothered as he greeted the woman. “Mimzy, dear,” he drawled, turning away from you. His smile stretched unnaturally. “You are extraordinarily late.”

The woman- Mimzy- waved her hand in indifference. “I’m busy running a business, Al, you know how it is. Can’t eva get anyone to do what you want without a bit of prodding.”

Her gaze slid over to you, eyes widening as her smile grew. “Say, Alastor, did you bring me a new toy?” Her eyes roamed over you slowly. “She’s a little dull, but I can spruce her right up.”

You suddenly felt very exposed.

You recoiled slightly, attempting to keep your movements unnoticeable as you pressed yourself further into the booth to get away from the Mimzy’s prying eyes. 

You tried not to notice the way that other demons and sinners had begun to glance over at the sudden appearance of the bar’s owner. They aren’t looking at you, you told yourself. But you couldn’t help but take in Mimzy’s confident appearance and attitude, coupled with Alastor’s calm poise. You could see how the Mimzy could have mistaken you for one of Alastor’s wayward souls.

Almost as if it could sense your discomfort, Alastor’s shadow suddenly reared up and placed itself directly in front of you, blocking you from Mimzy’s line of sight. 

“Unfortunately, Mimzy dear,” Alastor said from opposite you, though he avoided looking in your direction. “Charlie has grown quite attached to her little friend, and I doubt she would be thrilled to discover that I had allowed her to become a part of your…”

“Productions,” you piped up. Alastor’s shadow looked back at you in delight before shifting through the air to sit beside you once again.

“Precisely,” Alastor said.

Mimzy only shrugged, giving you a wink. “Well, I’m here if you change your mind, hun.” 

She turned back to Alastor. “Let’s you and me talk for a bit, huh? I know this sorta thing ain’t really your cup of tea. I’ve got a room in the back that we can use. Your little doll will be alright on her own for a while, won’t she?”

At her words, Alastor finally turned to face you once again, his eyes roaming over your face for only a moment before he stood. “Of course. I never would have brought her otherwise.”

With that, he made to follow Mimzy without so much as a glance back in your direction. A move that he had made on purpose, you were sure. After all, it simply wouldn’t do to have others believe that the Radio Demon actually cared for someone.

Even so, you couldn’t help but sigh in disappointment as the two sinners walked away. From beside you, in the dim light that the club so generously provided, Alastor’s shadow placed its hand on yours comfortingly. You turned to face it with a smile. “At least I still have you.”

The shadow grinned, using its other hand to gently cradle your cheek, pulling you closer until your foreheads met. You closed your eyes, savoring the feeling as your heart grew light. The shadow might not have been Alastor himself, but you had learned enough to know that it was heavily influenced by Alastor’s own thoughts, feelings, and commands. This was as close to affectionate that he would ever be with you.

Suddenly, the shadow’s touch left you.

You opened your eyes to see that it was nowhere to be seen.

“My, my,” a voice said from behind you. You jerked forward in surprise, spinning around to see a tall, winged imp casually leaning against the booth. He definitely hadn’t been in the building a few minutes ago, you noted. 

The imp leaned forward. “What’s a pretty little thing like you doing in a place like this?”

You flushed, glancing around to see if you could catch a glimpse of Alastor’s shadow. But it was as if it had never been beside you in the first place. Which would explain why the imp had decided to approach you at all. Nobody would have dared spoken to you if they knew that you were here with an Overlord.

You opened your mouth to tell him as much before you caught yourself, clamping your mouth shut. No matter how well Alastor’s conversation went with Mimzy, it was likely that he never would have danced with you anyway. There were too many eyes and ears here for him to let his guard down.

“You here alone?” the imp asked, trying his luck once more.

You fixed a smile on your face. If this was your only chance to dance, you were sure as Hell going to take it.

You stood, extending your hand in greeting. “Would you like to dance?”

The imp’s flirtatious smile changed to one of intrigue. “Straight to the point. I like it.”

You wiggled your fingers. “Are we going to dance, or what?”

The imp grinned, taking your hand and leading you on to the dance floor. 

Sure, it wasn’t exactly what you were hoping for when you and Alastor had come to Mimzy’s club, but you figured that it would at least be a decent substitute for something that you would never be able to have.

You felt your smile slipping as the pair of you began to move to the music. 

You hated moments like these, when you realized that no matter what you did or how you felt, you would never be able to show your feelings for Alastor in public. It wasn’t just the fact that he disliked physical touch, which you had never faulted him for. It was the fact that as one of Hell’s most powerful Overlords, he felt the overwhelming need to keep up an appearance. One that did not, unfortunately, include you.

A gentle touch snapped you back to reality. “You alright?” the imp asked.

No, you weren’t. But you weren’t going to let that stop you from dancing.

You nodded, taking the imp’s hand in yours as you began to move to the music once again. “I’m fine.” You smirked. “Now, show me what you’ve got.”

~~~

If you were to later ask anyone at Mimzy’s speakeasy what had happened that night, you would probably receive a whole mix of stories.

Some would say that the Radio Demon had suddenly appeared out of nowhere, his antlers growing and his bones cracking as he laid waste to the bar, presumably for fun or out of an unjust anger.

Others would say that he had come to seek some sort of revenge on a winged imp that had been spotted dancing before he suddenly disappeared, not to be seen again.

One specific witness, who shall remain nameless, would say that she had been speaking to an old friend about a business opportunity that he had foolishly taken no interest in. As she was speaking, a shadow had entered the room, whispering in its owner's ear. Her old friend had walked away from her, re-entering her bar, where he was met with the view of an imp dancing with the very woman that he had brought here in the first place.

The witness hadn’t even had time to blink before her friend had taken on his true demon form, batting people aside as if they were only flies before promptly picking up the imp dancing with the woman and melting into the shadows with him.

When her friend returned, he refused to say what he had done with the poor imp, though the witness had no trouble making a few assumptions. He had walked over to the women, gently taken her hand, and gave the witness a clipped farewell before vanishing with the women into the shadows.

It was a brutal display, even for the Radio Demon. If the witness had to guess, she would assume that perhaps the woman had something to do with the whole debacle.

Not that she would ever say so to anyone else, of course. She knew better. 

You, however, had no trouble saying straight to Alastor’s face what you believed had happened. 

“We were dancing, Al. It was harmless. If I’d needed your help, you would have known.”

“You would never have summoned me if he was threatening you, my dear.”

You groaned and buried your face in your hands. The two of you had been going back and forth like this ever since he had so graciously brought you back to the hotel from Mimzy’s bar.

You lifted your head and took a breath before continuing. “If he was threatening me, we probably wouldn’t have been just dancing.”

Alastor’s eyes flashed dangerously, his shadow rearing up and scowling in disgust. 

You whirled around and pointed at the shadow. “And you. You went and told him that something bad was happening, didn’t you? You are a liar and a rat, my friend.”

At your words, the shadow suddenly shrank down in size and hid behind its owner, almost as if trying to avoid your accusatory glare.

Alastor, on the other hand, didn’t break eye contact. “He only meant to protect you, my dear, the way he was instructed to.”

“What did you think I would need protecting from, exactly? I can’t exactly die again, can I?”

“There are things far worse than a second death, my dear,” Alastor said with false sweetness.

He was right, you knew. You had almost been subjected to such a thing after your death, when you had sold your soul to the Vees. You still weren’t sure exactly how it had happened, but Alastor himself had found out about you and somehow saved you from a life of imprisonment and torture. 

Not everyone was as lucky as you were.

But that wasn’t why you were upset. 

As soon as Alastor had saved you from the Vees, you had been determined to help him even a fraction of the way that he had helped you. You owed him so much more than that, you knew, but it was the only thing that you could give. And so, from that moment forward, you had tried your very best to become a solid and stable presence for Alastor, unmoving in your trust in him and, hopefully, eventually something like a friend.

But tonight, you had done the exact opposite. To see the Radio Demon defend you was to know that he felt things like affection, or even something more than indifference. That wouldn’t do for his reputation at all, you knew, and you hated yourself for being the cause of it.

You sighed in defeat, crossing your arms over your chest in defense. “I know that,” you said, holding your position and glaring daggers at the Overlord. “But I also know that you risked a lot today by protecting me. I’m not worth losing your power over-”

You gasped as Alastor appeared directly in front of you, glaring intensely. He didn’t lift a finger, but you swore you could feel the heat of his gaze.

“I do hope you haven’t finally started to doubt me, my dear.”

“Never,” you promised, searching his gaze.

The Overlord stepped back, his stretched out smile immediately concealing his true feelings. “Wonderful,” he said. “Then we both understand that my power and status will forever remain.”

You nodded once before finally breaking eye contact, choosing to look down at the floor.

You could feel the anger seeping out of you slowly, replaced by embarrassment. Of course Alastor would never give up his power for you. Even if someone had truly seen the incident, it was unlikely that anyone would ever be able to use it to their advantage. You were talking about the Radio Demon himself, after all.

“You’re right,” you muttered, wrapping your arms tightly around yourself. “I made a foolish assumption.” You smiled to yourself. “I seem to be full of those today. I’m sorry.”

You were met with silence. 

But before you could look up, you suddenly felt the cool touch of a shadow. It rested its hands against your cheeks, tilting your head up to make eye contact. It moved its thumbs in slow circles, leaning down until your foreheads were touching. It didn’t move any closer than that, but you knew that this was more than anyone else had ever received.

It was lovely.

But oh, how you wished it were really him.

The shadow stepped back, returning to its place beside its owner.

Alastor himself acted as though he hadn’t noticed the interaction at all, instead looking around your room as if seeing it for the first time.

“I do plan to maintain my powers, my dear,” Alastor repeated. 

Before you could even open your mouth to reply, he pushed forward. “Although,” he said, almost thoughtfully. “I certainly wouldn’t mind losing a few souls to keep what is most certainly mine.” 

He looked towards you then, his gaze hard, as if daring you to argue.

And you should have. You should have told him that you weren’t worth losing souls for. You should have told him that you only wanted to help him, never hinder him. 

You should have done lots of things.

What you did do, however, was smile and duck your head to hide your rising blush. 

You looked back up and extended your hand wordlessly.

Alastor looked down at it before glancing back up at you, his eyebrow raised in a silent question as his shadow looked on eagerly from behind him.

Your smile only widened. “I believe, good sir, that you owe me a dance.”

The shadow nearly leapt with excitement, rushing forward and taking your hand. 

You laughed at its enthusiasm before Alastor stepped forward and waved his hand, whisking the shadow away and taking its place. 

He placed his hand under yours, bringing your hand up to place a soft kiss on the back of your knuckles before releasing you and straightening. Slowly, he brought his claws to the base of your throat before gently dragging them back up until he reached your chin. He tilted your face up further to meet his gaze before dropping his hand down to yours once more.

With his other hand, he waved his staff, summoning a slow dance tune that seemed to emanate from the walls themselves.

You tried to ignore the heat in your cheeks and looked up curiously. “Didn’t you used to dance to songs that were a bit more lively?”

Alastor smiled gently down at you before summoning his shadow and surrendering his staff to it. “I did indeed, mon chere. But we aren’t exactly alive now, are we?”

You smiled back in agreement. “No, I suppose we’re not.”

You placed your hand on his shoulder as he placed his hand on your waist. He lowered his head down until your foreheads were touching and began swaying, taking you with him on his slow trek around your bedroom floor.

You couldn’t have asked for anything more.

~~~

If you asked anyone at the hotel what had happened in your room that night, you would receive a few different stories.

Angel Dust would have told you that the Radio Demon had suckered a poor woman into going out with him that night, and you were most likely getting it on.

Charlie would have told you that she hadn’t seen either Alastor or the hotel’s newest resident all evening, though she doubted that the two of you had gone off somewhere together. Right?

Husk would have told you that he felt sorry for the woman who had gotten caught in the Radio Demon’s line of sight. You were such a sweet thing, and you deserved so much better.

You would have simply smiled and shrugged, giving nothing away.

Nobody would have dared ask the Radio Demon, of course.

But if anyone had bothered to ask the shadows, they would have received a rather lovely story about two sinners who had found their peace, only for a moment, dancing in each other’s arms that night. 

An Overlord and a sinner. 

A woman and a man. 

Two damned souls, finding home at last.

Part 3 Here!!

A/N 2: I didn’t get to proofread, but I hope you guys still enjoyed it! If you read the first fic (or even if you haven’t), I’m thinking of making another part where it’s platonic Angel Dust x reader and he finally gets to give her a makeover. Let me know if you want to be tagged!

Also, I want to write more Alastor x reader (maybe a continuation of sorts, maybe not) so let me know if you guys want to be tagged in those!

Taglist: @severusminerva @anh4125 @midorichoco @rapturenyx-blog @maybememoriesx

[juicybvns]

Simon x fem reader

A/n: Ghost angst usually hits the best

—

Husband! Simon Ghost Riley who thinks about you the whole 4 months he was deployed

Husband! Simon Ghost Riley who’s heart aches just thinking about his wife is all alone and been expecting him since last month

Husband! Simon Ghost Riley who stares at the door nervous to walk in but excited to see you maybe cuddling a cup of coffee on the couch like your usual morning routine

Husband! Simon Ghost Riley who’s eyes burn a bit, rimming with tears under his mask when he sees you almost spill your coffee when you look towards the door

Husband! Simon Ghost Riley who drops his bag and and lifts his mask up when you stand up and stumble to him

Husband! Simon Ghost Riley who squeezes you so tight you almost couldn’t breathe

Husband! Simon Ghost Riley who holds your head against his shoulder and he closes his eyes to let it sink in that he’s finally home

Husband! Simon Ghost Riley who breathes in your scent when a tear drops from his eye

Husband! Simon Ghost Riley who hears your sniffle and brings you’re head face to face with him while he looks into your eyes and smiles

Husband! Simon Ghost Riley who kisses you like he would never see you again, taking away your breath

Husband! Simon Ghost Riley who then gently brings his forehead to yours and says “I missed you so much, love.”

Husband! Simon Ghost Riley who kisses you again and guides you to the bedroom

Husband! Simon Ghost Riley who lays you down and removes his shirt by grabbing it from the back and bringing it over his head

Husband! Simon Ghost Riley who shows you how much he missed his wife by giving you hours of pleasure and his undevoted attention

Husband! Simon Ghost Riley who, a few weeks later drops to his knees to hug your stomach when you tell him your pregnant

Husband! Simon Ghost Riley who promises to love, cherish, and protect his new and long wanted family <3

[he4dlin3]

hey! can you please do a louis x reader where they’ve just gone public with their relationship and social media are being super mean to her etc so she isn’t sure they can stay together and there’s some angst followed by fluff

thanks!

“Love in the Limelight — L.T “

Pairing ; Louis Tomlinson x Fem!reader

Synopsis ; Louis finally goes public with his relationship, and his girlfriend faces relentless online hate that slowly wears her down convincing herself that leaving is the only option.

Navigation | Material List

࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎

You had known dating Louis Tomlinson would come with challenges. It wasn’t just that he was famous—he was Louis Tomlinson, a member of One Direction, adored by millions, worshipped by fans who had supported him for years. You had prepared yourself for the scrutiny, the invasive questions, the inevitable comparisons to his exes. What you hadn’t prepared for was the sheer ferocity of the backlash when you and Louis finally went public.

It had been his idea.

“I don’t want to hide you,” he had said, fingers brushing against your cheek, voice gentle but firm. “I want to be able to hold your hand in public. Post pictures of us. I want to love you openly.”

You had smiled then, warmth spreading through your chest. How could you have said no to that? You loved him—deeply, fiercely, in a way that sometimes scared you with its intensity. So when he posted the first picture of you on his Instagram, you had thought it was the beginning of something beautiful.

Instead, it felt like the beginning of your own personal nightmare.

࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎

You had expected some backlash.

You had braced yourself for it the moment Louis pressed ‘post’ on that first Instagram picture of the two of you.

It was nothing extravagant—just a candid of you laughing at something he’d said, your head thrown back, smile bright, eyes alight with joy. The caption was simple: Happiness looks like this.

You should’ve known better.

The hate started small—passive-aggressive comments, backhanded compliments.

“Why does he always go for girls like this?”

“She’s so plain. Like, I don’t get it.”

“She’s cute, I guess, but why her?”

“Hope she enjoys her fifteen minutes.”

You had tried to brush it off. You weren’t naïve. Louis had millions of fans. Of course, not everyone would be happy.

But then it escalated.

Twitter exploded with your name trending—for all the wrong reasons. A thread analyzing everything from your appearance to your past relationships to your fucking personality went viral. They picked apart your outfits, your social media posts, your job, your worth. Strangers who had never met you dissected your life as if they had the right.

And the comments—God, the comments.

“She’s ugly.”

“Why does he always date nobodies?”

“She’s just another fame-hungry whore.”

“Can’t wait for them to break up.”

“Dare i say Elenor was better?”

The worst part? They weren’t just words on a screen. They felt like knives, digging under your skin, carving away at your self-esteem with every passing hour.

You deactivated your Twitter first, but it didn’t help. The hate just followed you to Instagram. Your DMs filled with threats, with cruel jokes, with strangers telling you to kill yourself because you had the audacity to love someone they worshipped.

Louis, of course, noticed. He noticed everything when it came to you.

He wasn’t stupid. He saw the way you started leaving your phone face-down. The way you forced a smile when he asked if you were okay. The way your laughter, once effortless, now felt like something you had to work for.

“You’re quiet,” he murmured one night, his fingers tracing patterns on your thigh as you sat curled up beside him on the couch.

“I’m fine,” you lied.

He studied you, unconvinced. “You sure?”

You nodded, forcing a smile. “Yeah, just tired.”

He didn’t press, but the worry in his eyes never faded.

࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎

A week later, you broke.

You hadn’t meant for it to happen. You had spent days pretending, swallowing your emotions like poison, convincing yourself you could handle it.

But then you saw it.

A photo, an edited photo.

A split screen—one side, a stunning, airbrushed image of one of Louis’ exes, someone the fans adored. The other side, you. Unflattering, caught mid-blink, looking worse than you’d ever seen yourself.

The caption: He fumbled so bad.

Something inside you snapped.

You locked yourself in the bathroom, hands trembling as you stared at your reflection. And for the first time in your life, you hated what you saw.

The harsh bathroom light illuminated every imperfection, every flaw you had spent years trying to accept. Your eyes, red and swollen from holding back tears, looked lifeless, as if the exhaustion from the past few weeks had drained every last bit of light from them.

Your skin, usually warm and alive, looked dull and tired. The dark circles beneath your eyes stood as proof of the sleepless nights spent scrolling through comment sections, through hate-filled messages, through thread after thread of strangers tearing you apart like it was their personal mission.

You lifted a shaky hand to your face, fingers brushing over your cheek, as if touching yourself would somehow confirm that the person staring back at you was still you. But all you could hear were their words—cruel, merciless, repeated like a mantra in your mind.

You weren’t good enough.

Not for Louis.

Not for this life.

Not for any of it.

You gritted your teeth as the lump in your throat thickened. The weight of their words pressed down on your chest like a vice, squeezing until you could barely breathe.

You had tried to ignore it. You had tried to tell yourself it didn’t matter, that these were just people hiding behind screens, people who didn’t know you, people whose opinions shouldn’t hold any power over you.

But they did.

Because you had spent your entire life trying to be enough. Trying to be someone worth loving. And now, here you were, face to face with your own worst fears, reflected back at you in unforgiving clarity.

Maybe they were right.

Maybe Louis deserved better.

Your stomach twisted painfully at the thought, at the reality that no matter how much he reassured you, no matter how many times he told you that you were beautiful, that you were everything he wanted—none of it could drown out the deafening roar of the world telling you otherwise.

Your breath hitched as you pressed your palms against the cool porcelain sink, gripping the edges so tightly your knuckles turned white. A tear slipped down your cheek, slow and silent, followed by another. And another. Until suddenly, you couldn’t stop them.

You bit down hard on your lip, willing yourself to pull it together, to shove it all down the way you had been for days, for weeks, for ever since this started. But the walls you had built so carefully were crumbling, collapsing under the weight of it all.

The grief. The doubt. The unbearable loneliness of knowing that millions of people had already decided they hated you without ever even knowing you.

You sucked in a breath, but it came out broken, uneven, shattered by the sob that ripped from your throat.

You had never felt so small.

So unworthy.

So lost.

You felt like you were drowning in an ocean of people telling you you’d never be enough, and the worst part?

You believed them.

࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎

Louis found you an hour later.

You hadn’t meant for him to.

You had tried to pull yourself together, wiping at your tear-streaked face, willing yourself to just breathe. But when you stepped out of the bathroom, he was there—waiting.

His brows furrowed the second he saw you. “What’s wrong?”

Your throat closed up. “Nothing.”

“Love,” he said, voice impossibly soft. “Please don’t lie to me.”

And that was it.

The dam broke.

“I can’t do this,” you whispered, voice shaking.

Louis’ expression darkened. “Do what?”

“This,” you gestured vaguely, your vision blurring with fresh tears. “Us.”

His entire body tensed. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

You let out a choked, humorless laugh. “I’m ruining you.”

Louis’ jaw clenched. “What?”

“The fans hate me. They think I’m some pathetic, ugly, gold-digging rebound. They think you deserve better. And maybe—maybe they’re right.”

Louis looked like you had physically struck him.

“That’s bullshit,” he snapped.

“Is it?” Your voice cracked. “Because I don’t think I can keep pretending like it doesn’t hurt, like it’s not breaking me every. single. day.”

Louis ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. “Who gives a fuck what they think?”

“I do,” you admitted, and your voice sounded so small, so defeated. “Because I love you, Louis. But I don’t know if I can survive this.”

His face crumpled, and before you could pull away, he grabbed you—hands framing your face, thumbs brushing away your tears as his own eyes shone with something raw, something devastating.

“You can’t leave me,” he whispered, voice breaking. “You can’t.”

Tears spilled freely down your cheeks. “I don’t want to. But I don’t know how to fix this.”

“You don’t have to fix anything,” he insisted. “You just have to stay.”

“Louis—”

“No,” he cut you off, shaking his head. “You don’t get to say you’re not good enough. Not when you’re the best fucking thing that’s ever happened to me.”

You sucked in a breath, your chest aching.

“I love you,” he murmured, pressing his forehead against yours. “I love you. And I don’t care what they say. I don’t care if I have to spend the rest of my life fighting for you—I will.”

Your hands clenched into the fabric of his hoodie, grounding yourself in him.

“I can’t do this without you,” he whispered. “Please don’t let them take you from me.”

And that—that was what shattered you.

Because you weren’t the only one hurting.

Louis was, too.

And if he could fight for you, maybe—just maybe—you could fight for him, too.

You inhaled shakily, nodding. “Okay.”

Louis pulled you into his arms, holding you so tightly you thought you might break. But instead of falling apart, you found something else—something stronger.

Because love wasn’t easy.

And neither was this.

But Louis was worth it.

And maybe—just maybe—you were, too.

࿎࿎࿎࿎࿎

a/n : hi, thanks for requesting and i hope you enjoyed this! i tried my best, my angst is a little rusty and hasn’t seen the light of day since my wattpad writing days 💔 😭

[sugurusladyknightt]

➺ cult leader!suguru x gn!reader

suguru treasures you. well, he did. that's what he tells himself anyway.

memories of you float around in his head like the little specs of moon dust coming through his window. you're there, but he can't get a hold of you. he isn't quite sure what he'll do if he did manage to get hold of you. wasn't sure he wanted to do that at all.

images of your face haunt his dreams like the guiltiest of his guilty pleasures and your voice echoes in his mind, reverberating off each of the wrinkles in his brain.

suguru was entranced by you. in every sense of the word.

and he was disgusted by it.

he hadn't always been though.

he's known that he felt enchanted by you for a long, long time. far before mere ideas of his radical thoughts took root in his mind. far before his deflection and turning his back on jujutsu society, on everything he knew, everything he loved.

but suguru had only done it because of his love. for his love. a love so great he couldn't stand to see it suffer when the solution was so simple to him. so clear to him.

which is why it's so bothersome to him that you haunt him so. he feels your presence with him, everywhere he goes.

he doesn't care for you. he doesn't care for you. he doesn't care for you. he'll repeat it until the words become truth.

he doesn't want to know what you've been up to, or what they told you about his disappearance, he doesn't want to know how you reacted or how it impacted you. if it did at all.

( it's cruel of him. it's cruel and it's sinister, but he hopes it did. he hopes you're haunted by the memory of him.) (but how could you be? why would you be? how can he expect that from you?)

you're in everything. you're there for everything. you're there when he's having tea, you're there when he showers, you're there when he lets mimi and nana brush his hair, you're there during the meetings, you're their during the murders.

you're presence is everywhere and you remain none the wiser to the torment created in its wake.

you are a monkey. a pathetic, stupid, weak monkey.

you're a part of the problem he plans on ridding this world of.

but you were so kind, and so smart, and so thoughtful, so tender and so gentle, and so caring. you were too good to be a monkey, and yet you were. a filthy, disgusting monkey. it's almost hurt to say it, but it hurt worse the suffering you're existence were causing.

or was it the other way around?

either way.

he despised it.

sometimes suguru finds himself thinking that you might understand. that if he explained his cause to you, his ambitions, you'd understand. maybe even support him in their pursuit.

it's so stupid.

it's all so stupid and frustrating. he hates that he can't shake the feeling of your presence. you're so damn persistent. even now. even when he can't stand it.

he hates that you are but a stupid monkey, but you still can snake your way into his thoughts and his dreams. sneaking around uninvited in the tightly guarded chambers of his mind. a pest. one that needs to be exterminated. like a rat. a monkey.

his tea goes cold now, and the sun is rising.

he hates that he still uses the hair pin you'd gotten him for his birthday one year. he hates he stills sees your smile as you handed it to him, wrapped beautifully in the silken fabric. he hates that he handles it so delicately when he's putting it away, safely in the drawer reserved for it and it alone.

he hates that he still reads the books you'd recommend to him, and he hates that none of the words really register. his mind to distracted by the faded conversation that lead him to purchase them in the first place. he hates that he's sitting here contemplating your pathetic little existence in the first place.

he hates, he hates, and he hates. and yet you're there. after all his prayers willing you away. after all the time he's spent cursing you. you stubbornly remain planted in place. so damn persistent.

he's keeping you there despite his own will to drive you away. the memory of you safely tucked away deep inside him out of any harms way.

he keeps you between his ribs, and in the hidden crevices of his mind. he keeps you behind his eyelids, between his dark lashes, and on the tip of his tongue. he keeps you hidden behind the tips of his fingers. he keeps you tucked away inside his bones where only his marrow can keep you company. he keeps you in his lungs. every breathe he takes carrying a reminder of your essence.

he keeps you far from his heart though, that would be to obvious. to easy.

you're still out there, still living your puny useless life like it meant something, doing your best to make the most of it. living it like sorcerers aren't dying because of you everyday.

he can't save you. he can't spare you. you are not the exception and you will not be exempt. but he'll let you be, for as long as he can afford to.

he'll let himself be selfish just once, and curse you a little longer, till you're no longer there for him to curse.

divider by @saradika-graphics

[truffle-draws]

Collage for my Viktorxfem!reader fic ‘Even the Gods Cry for Us’ which can be found here

[the-wandering-wonder]

By The River

I was rewatching Lord of the Rings, and oof. I now remember why I swooned over Orlando Bloom so much as a teenager...

Pairing: Legolas x Reader

Word Count: 1,334

Rating: T (angst)

Chapter: 1/1

Summary: You've grown quite fond of Legolas, but when he disappears without so much as a word, your world is turned upside down.

You walk slowly towards the river Bruinen, occasionally glancing up at the clear night sky. A handful of trees litter the path of the river, marking where the beauty of Rivendell merges with the beauty of the forest. You take in a deep breath as you approach a particular beech tree, one that was slowly becoming your favourite.

You smile to yourself as you hear the feet landing behind you, slowing for just a moment as you see the familiar blond elf falling into step alongside you.

“It’s a beautiful night.” Legolas breaks the silence.

You merely hum in agreement, glancing at him with a soft smile, one that he returns.

You couldn’t quite remember how long you two had shared this routine, but he was always there, every night, ready to join you in your walks along the edge of the forest. Most nights you spoke, joking and laughing, but some nights, you enjoyed the simple silence, interrupted only by animals in the distance or the whistling of the wind. Truth be told (but never to Legolas himself) he was the reason you enjoyed your walk so much.

You eventually find yourself paused at the riverbank, looking down at the moonlight reflecting along the rippling waters. A breeze whips around you and you shiver, exhaling softly as you wrap your arms around yourself. You feel a warm presence behind you as Legolas moves to wrap his cloak around your shoulders, his hands resting on your upper arms. Without thought, you lean back into his touch, letting his warmth wash over you.

“Beautiful.” He murmurs.

You tilt your head to glance back at him, finding him gazing down at you, blue eyes sparkling in the moonlight. His hand comes up slowly, resting along the hollow of your throat, his thumb and forefinger pressing up against your jaw, lifting your face to meet his. He dips his head down, tentatively brushing his lips over yours before pulling back and letting his hand return to its place on your arm. Your lips part slightly, but no words come, so you give him a soft smile instead, letting your head fall back to rest against his shoulder as your gaze returns to the waters of the river Bruinen.

~~~~~~~~

The next day, you find yourself busy, running small errands for the council. But Legolas remains in the back of your mind, his soft kiss replaying over and over. Once night falls, you grab your cloak and slip out for your nightly walk. You quickly make your way to the beech tree, pausing for a moment. When all you hear is the rustling of the water and chirping of birds, you glance around.

“Legolas?” You call out, looking up at the branches.

Your heart begins to race as your elven senses pick up no sign of him. 

“Legolas?” You call out again, silently hoping that he had somehow lost track of time.

No answer comes and you feel your breath run short, catching in your throat as your pulse pounds in your ears. You force down a deep breath before turning to run back into the walls of the city. You make your way to the council room, steadying yourself before approaching Elrond, who greets you with a nod of his head before returning to the map he was studying.

“Lord Elrond,” you begin, bowing your head slightly, “have you seen Legolas?”

“He is gone,” the elf responds, “A messenger came from Mirkwood this morning, and he left.”

You feel your heart sink to your stomach as tears prick the corners of your eyes. Your jaw drops slightly as you turn away from Elrond, clenching your fists by your sides.

“This troubles you?”

“I was just-” You pause, unsure of how to explain yourself to the high elf. “I did not know he was leaving.”

“Do not worry for him,” Elrond says, turning to look at you fully, “he will return in time.”

~~~~~~~~

You try to follow Elrond’s advice, busying yourself with whatever you can find and forcing yourself to focus on anything but the thoughts of Legolas. But days soon turn into weeks, then into months. And the Sindar elf does not return. You eat out of habit, on the days that you remember, and hardly ever venture out of the walls of Rivendell. Some days your heart aches as it did when Legolas first left, other days it feels cold and numb.

One day, Elrond, who had kept a distant eye on you as you grieved, approaches you.

“You should take a walk,” he says softly, “the air would do you good, as would the sun.”

“The river reminds me of him,” you admit.

“An unpleasant memory?”

“No, not at all. I just…I miss him.”

You stare at Elrond with glassy eyes, tears threatening to fall. He lets out a small sigh as he places his hand on your shoulder.

“Then go to the river, sit with the memories.”

Elrond gives your shoulder a soft squeeze before turning to walk away. You watch him disappear around the corner before turning your attention to the waterfalls scattered around the city, listening to the sounds of rushing water. You slowly walk through the city, heading towards the waters of the river.

You eventually approach your tree, reaching out to run a hand along the bark as you look down at the flowing water. In the light of the noonday sun, the colour almost matches Legolas’ eyes. A tear slides down your cheek as you turn to lean against the beech, sliding down to the ground and bringing your knees to your chest. Your eyes close as you lean your head back against the tree, losing yourself and letting time fly by.

You hear footsteps in the soft grass and you leap to your feet, turning to face the approaching figure. The sun glints off golden hair and your jaw drops momentarily before you close your eyes, deciding that your eyes are playing a cruel trick.

“No.” You say softly.

You slowly open your eyes, taking in the figure that now stands before you. Piercing eyes stare at you as golden locks flutter in the soft breeze. Legolas…

“I thought you’d left,” you murmur, “never to return.”

“You truly think I would do that?” Legolas tilts his head slightly, striding forward to stand in front of you.

“I didn’t know what to think,” you reply slowly, “you were just…gone. You never even said goodbye.”

“I tried to find you,” the blond elf murmurs, “but I couldn’t. And it was urgent that I return to Mirkwood.”

You take a step back and swallow as you stare at the river again, fingertips digging into the bark of the tree as it presses into your back. Finally bringing your gaze up to meet his, you see pale blue filled with concern and… was that hurt?

“I would never abandon you.” 

Legolas’ voice comes out as little more than a whisper as he moves in closer, bringing up a hand to caress the line of your jaw, catching a fresh tear with his thumb. You lean into his touch, closing your eyes as you feel his free hand resting ever-so-lightly on your hip. 

“ Melethril…”

Your eyes flutter open as you feel Legolas’ warm breath dancing across your lips, his own within inches. Your hands find purchase on his cloak as his body envelopes yours, your lips finally meeting in a soft kiss. You lean into him as his grip tightens on you, holding you close as your lips mold together. Your lungs begin to ache, but your desire for Legolas pushes all other thoughts back as you cling to him.

Legolas finally breaks the kiss, resting his forehead against yours as you both take in a breath. He tilts his head back to look into your eyes, the intensity of his gaze filling you with warmth. He speaks in a low tone, slowly and assuredly.

“I will always come back to you…”

[harrywavycurly]

Glitch: Does She Know?

Masterlist: Here

CW: mentions of drinking, manipulation in the form of Jeff pre programming you and minor language.

A/N: I am excited to get this series going and see how y’all like it! It’s going to be a good mix of drama/angst and fluff so enjoy! Oh and you might not like Jeff in this series and that’s okay💓

Tag List: @alicivava @cosmicneptune @daphnesutton @valeriiyuhh @drewrry @obsessiveenthusiast @me-undiscovered @psicostyles @umadirectioner @styleswithaseaview @sunflower-tia @tulips4harry @gmikaelson @fangirl509east @howling-wolf97 @outofthisworl-d @namoreno @harryscherries28 @blckburd @harry2121 @cevans-winchester @prettygurl-2009

Summary: Jeff thinks it’s time to try to get Harry back in the studio💓

Six years, that’s how long it’s been since Jeff has seen Harry do anything remotely close to stepping foot in a studio and in his opinion that’s about five years too long for the world to go without new music from one of it’s bestselling artists. Now it’s not that Harry hasn’t been busy because he has, he’s been dipping his toes in the fashion pond and enjoying doing collaborations with his favorite fashion houses, he’s been working behind the scenes for his own personal brands and honestly he’s just been relishing in his time away from the chaos that often times comes hand in hand with releasing new music into the world. He’s still an artist and finds himself scribbling little lines here and there that he thinks could fit into a melody he has playing in his head but nothing seems to be making him have to rush to the studio to get the words out of his brain before they threaten to take over his life like he’s done for previous albums, and that’s what is starting to concern Jeff.

Jeff is worried that Harry has started to lose his spark, or to put it more plainly he just simply doesn’t have the desire he once had to put songs out into the universe that make people feel things and Jeff thinks he knows exactly what’s causing this decline in inspiration, Harry isn’t in love with anyone. He doesn’t know why Harry works so well while in love or at least while infatuated with someone but it’s what works for him and over the last few years that’s the one thing Harry hasn’t bothered with. He doesn’t seem interested at all in finding love or even pursing anyone for more than a two week long fling that ends with nothing more than maybe a poem or two Harry jots down in his private journal that Jeff can’t do anything with because Harry would murder him if he even insinuated turning his private journal into something for profit. It’s not that Jeff is only wanting to see Harry in the studio again because he knows with it comes a good bit of money, no Jeff wants Harry in the studio again because he knows deep down his friend feels like a part of him is missing when he’s not being creative in that way and all Jeff wants to do is help one of his bestfriends feel whole again.

Or at least that’s what Jeff tells himself.

So that’s how Jeff finds himself standing in front of you, a companion bot that is designed for one thing only and that’s to help people feel understood on all levels needed to form a lasting connection that could potentially turn into deeper feelings such as love. He knows that the odds of you making a connection with Harry are high considering he went ahead and had them download a file into your main server that was nothing more than an info dump on the superstar himself. Including his likes and dislikes, his star sign, his normal day to day schedule and a variety of photos of him throughout his career dating all the way back to his X Factor audition. He will admit he might’ve went a little overboard on the Harry informational file but for what he spent on you he can’t risk you not at least making Harry want to go write a few heartbreakingly sad songs or love ballads after his encounter with you, however long of brief it may be since he’s not really sure how the two of you are going to get along seeing as he hasn’t even turned you on yet.

“So how do I turn her on?” Jeff asks the technician who is responsible for informing him of all your abilities and requirements as well as making sure Jeff signs all the dotted lines that will officially make you his bot.

“Oh one moment let me power her up.” Lance says with a smile as he taps away on his tablet and a few seconds later Jeff watches your eyes open and he takes a step back from where you’re sat in a loveseat in what you’ll soon realize is your living room.

“Good morning.” Your voice is softer than he imagined as you introduce yourself to him, your name being one he picked because he figured it would be one Harry would enjoy saying over and over again to himself like he’s done with past love interests.

“Uh good morning I’m Jeff.” You give him a smile as you reach your hand out for him to shake and it takes him a moment to finally find the courage to slide his hand into yours and when he does he’s shocked at how human like it feels. “She’s warm and-sweaty?” His words come out like a question as he turns his head towards Lance who is standing nearby tapping a few things on his tablet.

“Sorry I get a little nervous meeting new people.” You explain as you quickly take your hand out of Jeff’s grasp so you can place it in your lap.

“Don’t be shocked by the things she’s able to do. She’s just like a regular human. She sweats and-”

“Can she get wet?”

“Depends on if she’s attracted to you or not.”

“Not like that I mean can she shower and like go in the ocean?” Lance laughs and nods his head as he goes back to looking down at his tablet.

“Yeah man she can be fully submerged in water even salt water. She charges at night while she sleeps so she doesn’t need to be plugged in and her maintenance is only once every two years unless she feels sluggish then we can do a virtual assessment but other than that she’s good to go and yes she can even eat regular food and if she drinks too much she will get drunk.” You look from Lance over to Jeff who is staring at you with a bewildered expression on his face as if he can’t really believe what he’s hearing but you don’t let yourself dwell on why hearing you’re just like any other person would be so odd for him. Instead you choose to focus on if you’ll have time to paint your nails today as they look a little boring at the moment without any color on them.

“Does she know?” He asks as he tears his eyes away from you and turns to face the technician. Lance raises an eyebrow as he drops his hand that’s holding the tablet to his side with a sigh that has your head lifting up and your eyes glancing over to the two men.

“Does she know what?” He questions making Jeff roll his eyes as he leans in making it difficult for you to hear what he says next.

“Does she know she’s a robot and that I paid for her to-”

“Oh uhm no.” Lance answers in a whispered tone as his eyes glance over Jeff’s shoulder, he gives you a warm smile making you blush as you look back down at your lap. “She has no clue.” He explains making Jeff just nod and run a hand through his hair.

“Okay and what would happen if she found out? That she’s-”

“She won’t like explode or go evil or anything but uhm yeah she’d probably be a little upset so we always advise that if you do plan on telling them to do it up front or just don’t tell them at all and let them go about their lives thinking they are one of us.”

“Okay great.” You smile at Jeff as he turns around and looks over at you, this time you watch his eyes slowly roam over your form. It’s not completely uncomfortable, the way his eyes travel over your face and then down your neck to your shoulders, if anything you just hope he goes easy on your appearance seeing as it’s not even nine in the morning and you haven’t had your coffee yet.

“Do you mind standing up for me?” You nod and quickly do as he asks making him give you a soft smile. You swallow down the nerves that begin to creep up as he motions for you to turn around for him with his index finger, but when he doesn’t say anything and just nods in what you assume is approval you feel a small sense of relief wash over you.

“Her clothes are all unpacked as well as any other belongings she might need for the first week or so until she starts to have preferences about what she likes.” Lance explains to Jeff who is still subtly looking you over, you look down at your jean shorts and t shirt that lets a sliver of your torso be seen and you feel a weird sensation take over as if you for some reason no longer like the outfit you’re wearing even though you’re positive you’re the one who picked it out this morning.

“She doesn’t need me to tell her what to do all the time right?”

“Dude she’s not a Sim okay? She can take care of herself perfectly fine you set her intelligence level to,” Lance looks down at the tablet before looking back at Jeff. “slightly above average so don’t worry she won’t like burn the house down or anything. She’s fine.” Lance reassures him as he hands over the tablet so Jeff can begin signing the documents that will allow you to be left with him for good. “Just follow the prompts and sign on the dotted lines. Oh and be sure to read the important information PDF that we sent to your email earlier it will answer most of your questions.” Jeff just nods as he signs things while listening to Lance talk.

“Are you used to people buying these things for other purposes?” Jeff asks making Lance shrug as he looks over at where you’re standing in the living room with your hands in front of you as you look around the space.

“I mean rich people are usually the most freaky but who am I to judge? But be aware she can feel pain so yeah-she can also bruise.” Jeff’s eyes go wide as he hands the tablet back to Lance who takes it with a smile.

“I’m not-I don’t think you understand what-” Jeff stutters making Lance just hold his free hand up and shake his head.

“I don’t need to understand anything man I’m just here to drop her off.” With that Lance takes a few steps backwards and then turns on his heels so he’s facing the front door. “Nice meeting you!” You look up when Lance shouts your name over his shoulder, you give him a wave when he smiles at you before he opens the front door leaving you alone with Jeff.

“So I’m having a party tomorrow and I was wondering if you’d like to come? I could introduce you to some friends of mine if you’d like?” Jeff asks as he sits down on the small couch across from the loveseat making you follow his actions and sit back down in the loveseat you’ve been sitting in for most of the morning. He watches in amusement as your face lights up at the mention of a party and he smiles when you clap your hands in front of your chest with a grin.

“I’d love to come.” You say with a squeal of excitement that has Jeff noting that he might have to tweak a few things in your emotion settings because he doesn’t think this level of excitement over things like parties is going to rub Harry the right way. “Is there a theme or anything?” You ask making Jeff laugh and shake his head no.

“No theme just some friends getting together that’s all.” He answers making you nod as you start to mentally put together an outfit for it. “Uhm so do-do you like living here?” His question has your eyes narrowing for the briefest moment before you’re looking around and smiling as you realize you’re sitting in your living room, safe inside your house and not in some random stranger’s home.

“Oh yeah I love living here.” You tell him as you lift your hand and point towards your bedroom door that’s right off the living room. Jeff struggles to understand just how you know so much about your environment when you’ve only been awake in it for maybe an hour but he doesn’t question it he just smiles and lets you go on about how much you love your house.

“My bedroom gets really nice natural lighting I love it.” Jeff just nods as you tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear and the small action makes him momentarily forget that underneath your pretty exterior is nothing more than a bunch of wires holding together a metal skeleton that’s controlled by a series of codes that he can semi control on an app on his phone.

“I’m glad you like it here.” You raise an eyebrow at him when he stands up and looks down at the watch on his wrist. “I have a lunch meeting with a friend and need to run a few errands first but I’ll send you the details about tomorrow okay?” You just nod as you stand up so you can walk him to the front door.

“Okay.”

“See you tomorrow.” Jeff feels his body go a bit stiff when you wrap your arms around him in a hug that you’re pulling away from before his brain can even try to register what was happening leaving him standing there awkwardly in your doorway.

“Have a good day Jeff.” You say with a smile and a wave as he blinks a few times before turning and walking down the short set of stairs to the sidewalk.

“You-you too.” Is all he manages to say before you close the door and head back into the living room leaving him standing on the sidewalk a little out of it. He lets out a puff of air from his lips as he runs a hand through his hair before sliding his sunglasses on and pulling his phone out of his pocket.

“Poor Harry he doesn’t stand a fucking chance against that.” Jeff mumbles to himself as he walks down the street towards his parked car.

“Since when did you start throwing parties on Wednesdays?” Harry asks as he looks at Jeff from across the table that’s tucked in the back of a cafe Harry has been frequenting lately. “Actually when did you start throwing parties at all? You hate people in your house.” Jeff rolls his eyes as he reaches for his glass of water while Harry sends him a questioning look as he rests his forearms on the table.

“I’m just in a party mood I guess?” He answers with a shrug making Harry narrow his eyes at him. “What? It’s just a party H you can come or you can stay home and be boring.”

“So there’s no special occasion or anything? You’re just-just throwing a party because you feel like it?”

“Exactly.”

“You’re up to something.” Jeff feels his hands get sweaty as Harry leans in across the table. “I can tell you’re keeping something from me so just-”

“I redid my backyard and want to show it off okay? Happy now? I sound like a seven year old little boy who’s inviting his friends over to see his new Lego set but that’s why I’m having the party.” Harry leans back in his chair as the little white lie comes out of Jeff’s mouth, because while he did actually redo his backyard, it was a year ago but Harry doesn’t know that.

“You want to show off your new backyard? Really?”

“Really.”

“Well okay then.” Harry lets out a chuckle as he reaches for his cup of tea. “I’ll be there. But I still think you’re up to something.” Harry shoots him a playful wink making Jeff just roll his eyes and brush his comment off as he takes a sip of his water.

“It’ll be fun trust me.”

“I mean it’s a party of course it’ll be fun.” Harry says with an almost smirk like smile that has Jeff wondering if maybe just maybe he knows what the real reason behind this party is but he shakes that idea out of his head because there’s no way Harry knows what his plan is because if he did he wouldn’t have agreed so easily.

You enjoy social settings, or at least you normally do but something about the way the people inside Jeff’s kitchen are staring at you as if you have a second head and four arms has you feeling like some sort of attraction meant to be looked and gawked at instead of just a party goer looking for another flute of champagne. It’s like they can see something about you that you can’t see yourself and it makes an uneasy feeling begin to stir in your stomach as you walk around the spacious kitchen and out the open sliding door towards the back yard. You smooth out the front of your dress as you take a few deep calming breaths while walking deeper into the dimly lit garden, when you come up to a fountain in the middle of a few poorly looked after rose bushes you take a seat on the stone bench in front of it.

“You know for a party all about his backyard it kinda looks like shit.” You jump as the hand that’s not clutching your champagne flute flies up to your chest as a deep voice comes from behind you. You hear the sound of gravel crunching beneath his shoes before you feel it, a soft hand on the top of your shoulder that has your head turning and looking up at the stranger that seemed to also seek refuge in the garden from the party happening inside. “Sorry I didn’t mean to scare you.” Even in the dim lighting you can see the deep emerald color of his eyes as they stare right into yours.

“It’s okay.” You say with a warm smile as a nagging feeling that you know the man that’s still staring at you starts to fester in the back of your mind.

“Uhm I’m,” You watch him blink once and then twice before he shakes his head and seems to be broken of whatever spell he was under causing a nervous sounding laugh to escape his lips. “I’m Harry.” He says as he extends the hand that was on your shoulder out for you to take, giving you a smile that makes you let your guard down just a little with how comforting it is.

“It’s nice to meet you Harry.” His smile only seems to grow into a full on grin as you introduce yourself and place your hand in his giving it a little shake. “Did you say this party is for his backyard?” You ask with a quirked brow as you look around at all the half dead bushes and fountain that doesn’t even have any water coming out of it.

“That’s what he told me at least.”

“Oh well then why are we the only ones out here?” Harry looks at you and then over his shoulder towards the house, and the people he can see through the floor to ceiling windows that take up most of the back of the house and it’s not until he shrugs his shoulders that he realizes he still has a hold of your hand.

“Because the people Jeff invited to this party aren’t exactly the stroll around the garden type of people.” He answers as his eyes land on your joined hands and it’s as if on queue you begin to run your thumb over his knuckles and when his eyes glance up to your face he can tell it’s something you’re not even aware that you’re doing because you’re not even looking at him you’re staring at the house with a far off look in your eyes.

“They remind me of how it feels when walking around a wall of old paintings.” Your voice is soft and flows at such an even pace it has Harry almost feeling like he’s in a trance of some sort. “That feeling of eyes on you and that sense of judgement that makes a shiver go down your spine because you know even if you meet their pointed looks they won’t ever tell you how they really feel about you but it’s not that you need them to tell you because it’s written all over their face.” Harry swallows thickly as you perfectly articulate the way he’s always felt during these stuffy industry parties and when you finally look back over at him you give him a comforting smile to go along with the gentle squeeze to his hand. “Forgive me the bubbles seem to have turned me into some sort of tortured poet.” You say with a laugh as you lift your half empty flute of champagne for him to see.

“No no it’s fine you’re-”

“There you two are.” Jeff’s voice has Harry dropping your hand as if he just got caught doing something horrible making your brows furrow as you watch his arm fall back to his side and the corners of your mouth tick downwards a bit as he tucks his hand into the pocket of his black slacks as if to hide the evidence of a crime.

“Yeah here we are.” You say as you put on a smile while standing up so you can face Jeff who is looking at Harry with a raised brow and a knowing look on his face and once again as you look over at Harry and allow yourself to take in his appearance, his cream and light blue short sleeve dress shirt letting you get an eye full of the ink scattered on his arms and his perfectly tousled hair that gives the allusion of it being how he looks when he rolls out of bed has you feeling that nagging sensation in the back of your mind as you try to pinpoint exactly where you know him from.

“The party is inside you know.” Jeff teases as Harry rolls his eyes and takes a step away from you and turns to face the house.

“That’s a bit odd though isn’t it? I mean considering this party is supposed to be about you showing off your backyard.” Harry states with a hint of annoyance in his tone that you immediately pick up on but Jeff either doesn’t notice or decides to ignore as he just laughs and gives Harry a shrug.

“What have you two been doing out here?” Jeff asks ignoring Harry’s statement entirely as he looks over at you with playful gleam in his eyes.

“Your roses are dead.” Harry bites his bottom lip to keep himself from laughing as you point towards the very dried up bush by your feet. “And your fountain is broken and your hydrangeas are beyond saving so whoever your gardener is I’d uhm well-I’d fire them.” You state bluntly before bringing your champagne up to your lips to take a sip while Jeff stands there with a half shocked and half amused expression on his face.

“Okay then.” Jeff says with a laugh as he looks around his garden that he knows could use some help. “Why don’t you take over then?” Harry looks at you as Jeff proposes his offer to you and when you roll your eyes he can tell it’s something you don’t do often as it only comes across as teasing and the tiniest bit adorable which is odd because he doesn’t know why he finds the simple action of you rolling your eyes at one of his closest friends adorable but he does.

“Me? Take over your garden?”

“It’s what you do for a living isn’t it? Landscape design and all that?” Jeff watches closely as your head tilts to the side ever so slightly and he knows now that’s your tell for when you’re mind is catching up to the world around you and letting you in on parts of yourself you haven’t learned yet like your job, the one Jeff hand picked for you out of a list of a thousand possible choices. He was sure to pick something that would make you seem nurturing and down to earth in Harry’s eyes without being too over the top and he also knows Harry’s soft spot for all things flowers.

“Well yes-yes it is but don’t you have someone already?” You question and Jeff just shrugs as he looks around his sad excuse of a garden.

“Yes but you said so yourself I should fire them.”

“Jeff are you seriously offering her a job in the middle of a party?”

“Yeah? Why not? My garden looks like-”

“Shit.” You blurt out remembering Harry’s earlier comment on how the backyard looked. This earns a laugh from both men making you smile as you take one last sip of your champagne and place the empty flute down on the bench in front of you.

“I’ll do it.” You state as you walk around the stone bench so you can reach your hand out for Jeff to take. “Now if you don’t mind I think I’m going to head home.” Harry feels a sense of sadness as he hears you say your goodbyes to Jeff as he gives your hand a shake sealing your deal of becoming his new landscape designer. “It was a lovely party thank you for inviting me.” You add with a smile making Jeff just nod and smile back as he lets go of your hand allowing you to begin heading off towards the back gate, wanting to avoid having to go inside the house at all costs.

“Let me walk you out.” Harry says as he rushes to catch up with you, not ready to be away from you just yet. “So how exactly do you know Jeff?” He asks once he’s next to you and your slow careful steps make him get the feeling that you also aren’t quite ready for your time together to come to an end.

“A friend of a friend sort of thing.” You explain with a shrug not really sure how else to explain your relationship with Jeff because you feel as if you’ve always known him. “What about you?” This has Harry chuckling as he gives you a questioning glance as if he doesn’t really believe the words that just came out of your mouth. “Sorry is that too personal? You don’t have to-”

“He’s my manager.”

“Manager of what?”

“Uh well you know that’s a great question.” You stop at the gate and turn to look at Harry who is already staring at you with a look that makes you think he doesn’t fully know if you’re real or not. “How have we never met before?” His voice is quieter as he takes a small step towards you making you feel your cheeks get warm when you feel his eyes roam over your face like he’s trying to memorize it so he can think back and picture it perfectly when you’re not around.

“I’m not sure.” You answer in a hushed tone that matches his and when you see his hand reach out to gently brush some hair out of your face you feel your heart do a weird double beat thing in your chest that has you taking a small step away from him and turning towards the gate. “Nice to meet you Harry.” Your words are jumbled together as you unlatch the gate and walk through it in a rush to get some distance between the two of you so you can try to get your breathing and heartbeat under control.

Harry stands there with his hand still in the air and he swears he can still feel the warmth of your skin on his fingertips. He lets out a sigh as it falls to his side as he watches you walk down the driveway and then turn down the sidewalk, the lilac coloring of your dress getting caught in the streetlights. Harry isn’t sure how long he stands there staring at the now empty street, but clearly it’s long enough for Jeff to walk up to him and place a hand on his shoulder.

“You okay H?” There’s a minor hint of concern in his voice as he gives Harry’s shoulder a squeeze.

“Oh uhm Yeah yeah I’m-I’m fine.” Jeff smiles to himself as he notes the very obvious flustered state his best friend is in and he knows this can only mean one thing, you’ve caught his attention.

“She’s-”

“Different.” Harry says as he turns to face Jeff. “In the best way.” He adds with a smile making Jeff raise an eyebrow at him. “Fuck I didn’t even get her number.” The look of pure defeat has Jeff slightly feeling bad for Harry but then he remembers the whole reason for this meeting in the first place, to make him want you until it drives him to a point of madness and then when you finally give in to him it will hopefully make him take those feelings and put them into songs.

“I’m sure you’ll get it eventually.”

“You think so?”

“Oh yeah. Trust me you’ll see her again.”

[mulders-too-large-shirt]

s7 episode 21 “je souhaite” thoughts

welcome back to M2LS for the newest episode liveblog!

i have to say, this feels monumental. we are almost at the end of s7. i know a lot of people enjoy this episode, and i’m in the mood for something light and airy before we descend into the s8 angst. 

yes, you must recall that i googled this show and read the wikipedia page a year ago before i started watching it, so i know some things. but to be honest, i’m kind of sickly excited for the s8 angst😈there are some particular tropes at play that i’m looking forward to investigating.

but! we have to get there first. and i plan on getting all of my s7 stuff around before watching the finale for cliffhanger reasons. and also, my posting will probably get way less regular very shortly… but it was a brilliant year of 2 or 3 posts a week that we shared. 

anyway. let us get comfy and cozy and started!

reading the description… a man without a mouth…? a corpse without a head? a genie?? what will mulder wish for!! and why the french title… lmao. let us see

(post-episode thoughts: peace and love. and also may i SPECIFICALLY note goodwill toward men!!!!)

we open in missouri. someone is looking for anson, who is reading a magazine filled with pictures of boats. i support him chilling in a storage unit and looking at boats instead of working. 

he hasn’t cleared out 407! oh. don’t tell him he won’t amount to anything! “a monkey could do this job, right, jay?” “well, you can’t, so what’s that say about you?” <- OOP! jay commands him to go clean out 407 THIS INSTANT!

he cracks the lock on the storage unit, which is filled with old furniture covered in plastic. and many cobwebs. and a rug. with something in it! it jumps! then unrolls it as spooky music plays…. OH! a woman? with a gem under her eye! was chilling in the rug!

she opens her eyes…. and he seems to have vanished! jay comes back to the carpet rolled out. but then jay starts to grunt. HE LOST HIS MOUTH? well. that must be the guy without a mouth part of the episode explained.

how will bro eat or drink!!!

intro time… literally GET spooky with it. i love the scene of baby agents with the guns. very short intro. we must have an action-packed episode.

mulder is at the desk, asking someone- who i presume to be jay- if he can get him some coffee, or water, or anything. he shakes his head no. probably because he has no mouth. and mulder goes over more paperwork, bouncing his pen around. i do love that man.

OHHH SCULLY… she opens the door, says good morning, and then makes a very funny face at mulder when she realizes there is someone else in their space. AWWWW. my princess :(

LMAOOOO her pointing and mouthing “who is that?” I LOVE HERRRR!

LMAOOOOO, THE WAY SHE GASPS WHEN SHE SEES HIS FACE AND THEN CATCHES HERSELF WITH A “NICE TO MEET YOU” <- THAT IS MY QUEEN!!! she wants to be POLITE!!!

it seems jay cannot say certain words. mulder shows scully the pictures of his mouthlessness, while jay says that anson did this to him. so i guess they cut him a new mouth somehow. which is good, all things considered! glad he found a doctor who could do that.

so anson told jay to shut up and then… jay had no mouth. yeah. anson was found several days later, but refused questioning. mulder points out they had nothing on anson- but politely!

“they had to make me a whole new mouth”, replies jay, and that would also make me so mad, so i sympathize

poor guy is mopping up his new mouth blood…

the agents head to mark twain trailer court in missouri, which must have been a long drive slash flight.

scully is telling mulder about the effects of a disease known as scleroderma, which is the overproduction of collagen, and i love her so dearly. there is so much tenderness in my heart for her. but mulder is like… that doesn’t just happen in a blink of an eye! mulder shoulder grab….

she’s still coming up with various medical reasons for a vanished mouth. and i see this episode was written and directed by our friend vince. tbh, i can’t really remember if he has a certain style of episode. i’ll probably figure it out along the way. 

(so. i see he's a little shippy at moments)

LMAO, SCULLY GRABS HIM AS THEY SEE THE GIANT BOAT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE TRAILER PARK… this show is so funnyyyyy sometimes.

anson sees them approach, saying they must be from the IRS, and warns someone named leslie to get rid of them. scully says hi :) and leslie starts to stutter that the boat is not theirs! they’re… holding it for someone else. “and they pay the taxes on it” “oookay” <- AWWWW. i love her reactions when people are being weird.

leslie tries to shut the door in their faces, but mulder does not allow this. oh, leslie is anson’s brother. mulder sees someone in the back… and says hello. she looks goth.

leslie says jay’s mouth thing comes from chemicals. like, one time, his brother found a guy with a meth lab in the storage unit, so, they should check that out. LMAO.

mulder declares he knows what is going on here… then they investigate the storage unit of mystery. he finds a calendar from 1978, and scully says it’s too bad, this furniture is really wonderful. (my heart skipped a few beats at her admiration of it all)

it’s expensive- very expensive. tell us more about your fancy furniture knowledge, queen. maybe anson stole something from in here and then dipped. and then used the money to buy a boat… “there’s your crime: theft”

my heart is just overcome with love for these two. idk what is wrong with me on this fine evening. maybe nothing is wrong with me and everything is supremely right. 

mulder finds a picture in a frame and calls her over. it’s a picture of a guy with three women surrounding him- one of which was the goth lady from the trailer! chilling in a fancy car. queen. and she hasn’t aged at all, despite the photo being very old. 

anson says that he has two down, nothing to show for it. “you got the boat” points out leslie. which anson declares has done him no good! goth lady says it’s like a white elephant. “so what the hell did you give it to me for?” “because you asked for it” <- ohhhh, clock his tea!!! he argues that he shouldn’t have had to specify the boat should have gone in some water!

this genie queen…. 

OH. leslie says maybe he could use the last wish to get rid of the boat, and anson threatens to put him in a home. now, i can support slacking off at work, but i cannot support this sort of language. genie is playing with the TV remote that is in the shape of a woman’s body. classy

“you could always give that guy his mouth back” LMAOOOO 

leslie suggests money. an infinite number of wishes. she kills both of those ideas quick. 

“you know, i have a thought. granted, it’s pretty obvious” (she gestures to leslie’s wheelchair) LMAOOO they don’t pick up on what she is saying at ALLLLLLL 

anson FINALLY says he is absolutely ready: he wishes he could turn invisible at will. use it to sneak around, pick up stock tips, snoop on women. james bond stuff. she tells him it is unoriginal. and then declares that it is done. 

BUT HE DIDN’T SPECIFY THE CLOTHES PART, LMAOOOO. absolute rookie mistake.

so he strips right there. she asks him to please turn invisible. and he does! then he goes for a walk. runs straight into some trash cans. he is on his way. hollering about being invisible. 

goth genie disappears. her work is done. anson runs around, invisibly kicking and pushing stuff. sees some women across the street. presses the crosswalk to approach them in a creepy man fashion. but the cars can’t see him!!! and he gets hit by a tractor trailer!!! 

well. instant justice for objectifying those women.

an undisclosed amount of time later, a biker trips over his rotting invisible corpse.

scully is here. an empty stretcher is pulled into her lab. and the assistants ask if they can leave. an autopsy on an invisible guy! that has to be new for her.

she traces his figure. looking for that glowy powder. gently taps it on….. she looks so excited. LMAOOO, LOOK AT HER HAVING FUN WITH IT. girl is gonna need soooo much of that stuff. she makes out a face!!!

eventually, she has made the whole guy yellow. and mulder comes by to antagonize her. the body has a perfect match to anson’s dental records- scully thinks he must have been hit by a car or truck. “and he’s invisible” “yes, he is” <- she seems soooo excited. i’m happy for her.

OHHH, she says it is the best thing she has seen in their 7 years working together. it will change the boundaries of science! she is covered in yellow powder, and he looks at her like she’s the whole world, which she is.

mulder says it is amazing, but he doesn’t think it has anything to do with science. sad scully face. he looked up that guy from the photograph they found back in the storage unit- turns out he made $30 million in a year. and then died of… hold on, let me google something. she is sooo taken aback by whatever it is he says.

ah. death by extreme boner. LOOK AT HER FACEEEE, she does not wanna think about that, LMAOOOOOO

he thinks the mystery woman is the link between the strange old man and anson's case, and therefore they ought to investigate. but scully wants to stay with the body to make sure no one comes and messes with it- it is truly amazing. and he nods and smiles. she is still covered in yellow. i love her soooo much. 

back at the trailer park, “you suck” has been written on leslie’s boat, while mulder tells him he is very sorry for his loss. leslie wants to know if his brother suffered- mulder says no, but asks about the invisible thing. and then where the woman went. he thinks she is a genie! and then they start singing a song together. good for them, i suppose.

leslie says he doesn’t know what mulder talking about. and mulder says you should hand me the object containing the genie right now- for your own safety. leslie wheels away. grabs a case of something. hands it to mulder. who tells him he is doing the right thing. did he really give him it?? i don’t buy it…

scully is taking a million pictures of invisible man while leslie goes back to the storage unit to see if the genie has returned…

OHH, scully doesn’t want to leave the dead guy. “come on, he’s not going anywhere” <- OHHH HER PAINED EXPRESSION… I LOVE HERRR. and she says “bye” to the body before leaving, then tells mulder so excitedly that a group of researchers will be flying in from harvard to inspect him!!

she investigates the little box leslie gave him… which mulder says is what the brothers keep their weed in. LMAO, HER FACE AGAIN- THIS WOMAN IS KILLLLLING ME.

why do i feel the body is going to go missing….

OH! mulder pulls up a video of mussolini which has the genie woman next to him, LMAOOOO. i did not see that coming. he ran her image through the facial recognition database and then the national archives. AWW. he is so clever. 

and then she’s with nixon!!! “both men who got all the power they ever wished for and then lost it” <- ohhh…. very interesting. maybe the act of wishing is doomed in itself… or maybe their wishes were stupid, and mulder can come up with the perfect ones.

back at the storage unit, leslie has found the genie!!! “can we just get this over with, please? three wishes. go” <- LMAOOO I LOVE HER. so she must live in the rug and he brought the rug back to the boat.

she gestures to leslie and says “your disability” …. LMAOOOOOO, HE SAYS HE COULD WISH FOR A SOLID GOLD WHEELCHAIR- BAHAHA, KING!!!

but there is something he wants more than a solid gold wheelchair. is he going to wish for his brother back? what will happen to the body if he does??

scully presents the body to the team of researchers…. but there’s nothing there. NOOOOOO, POOR THING. she’s reaching for him and coming up with nothing.

anson is a zombie!! leslie is not pleased. he did not ask to bring him back to normal- just back. another technicality oversight.

so leslie wishes zombie anson could talk- even though genie says no, you don’t- he insists. and zombie anson just opens his mouth and SCREAMS.

OH, POOR SCULLY SAYS SHE SHOULD SHOOT HERSELF AS MULDER INVESTIGATES WHERE THE BODY WAS…. NOOOO QUEEN, NEVER KILL YOURSELF!!! she was so happy. she thinks it was too good to be true. in her sweet green sweater. mulder says he thinks the disappearance was the result of a wish. who would want anson back? 

cut back to the boat with leslie, where anson is STILL SCREAMING, LMAOOO. he asks leslie what he did to him. leslie wheels away, muttering he wasted two wishes on him. anson turns on the stove…. he tries to light a match as leslie plans his third wish. 

the agents return to the boat as anson tries to light a match. leslie decides on his final wish: LEGS!!! but anson lights the match and blows the whole place up just as he makes his choice! the agents are nearly blown away!!! SCULLY BLOWING HER HAIR OUT OF HER FACE AS SHE IS SPRAWLED ON THE PAVEMENT, LMAOOO

and the rug THUDS behind them. 

THEY FIND THE GENIE!!!! he asks to call her jen. scully wants an explanation!!! mulder wants to know if she is a good or evil genie! “the only thing you people are cursed with is stupidity” <- get their asses. people have not changed a bit, she says. but they smell better now. 

“you’re saying that you have been a firsthand witness to 500 years of human history” <- oh scully, you big nerd, i would ask the same question.

she says she used to be human in 15th century france. she unrolled a rug. found a genie. asked for a mule, a sack that was always full or turnips (amazing!), and then…. great power and a long life. but in french, of course. hence the title of the episode. she says she should have been more specific. 

she wants to know if she’s under arrest, and scully is like… well, can’t think of anything you did, so feel free to go. but she can’t! mulder has to make his wishes! bro begins to contemplate. 

will his overthinking prove worthwhile?

back in his apartment, the genie says she doesn’t think scully likes her very much, LMAO. “oh, i don’t think she knows what to make of you” <- a very measured response. and he doesn’t know what to make of her either!

he tries to ask what her wish would be… she wants to live life moment-by-moment instead of worrying about what it isn’t. she’d drink coffee and watch the world go by. 

“you say that most people make the wrong wishes, right?” “without fail. it’s like giving a chimpanzee a revolver” LMAOO

he thinks the trick would be to make a wish that benefits everyone. 

he asks for peace on earth. she groans. “what the hell’s wrong with that? you can’t do it?” and then it’s done. he looks out the window….. everyone is gone!!!! NOOOOOOOO. he asks for scully, LMAOOO. aww, he goes back to their office…. calls out for anyone…. looks for skinner…… calls the genie back. “you know damn well that is not what i meant” 

LMAOOOO, SHE IS BULLYING HIMMM

AND HE WISHES TO UNDO THE WISH AND STARTS YELLING AT HER… BUT HE IS IN SKINNER’S OFFICE AND HIM AND A TON OF OTHER PEOPLE REAPPEAR IN A MEETING WHILE HE IS TEARING INTO HER

“i think there another possibility here, and that’s just that you’re a BITCH” <- LMAOOOO

NOOOOOOO, SKINNER HEARS ALL THIS!!!

so mulder is typing up his final wish on the computer so he can get it PERFECT using super legal language that CANNOT be misinterpreted.

in comes scully, saying skinner called to check on him- is everything alright? “you don’t remember disappearing off the face of the earth for about an hour this morning?” “no” “well, i guess everything’s okay”

i predict that he is going to wish for this genie to be free so no one else can make these sorts of mistakes… and also because he is a nice guy deep down

LMAOOOOO, THE WAY SHE TURNS AND ASKS THE GENIE IF SHE COULD GIVE THEM A MINUTE PLEASE, BAHAHAAAA. the genie doesn’t go anywhere. “like today?” and then she is gone. 

love when scully gets so mad her carefully curated facade of politeness cracks- it always makes me giggle… tell that genie to GTFO so you and the bestie can have a chat, dr. scully. i support you!

if this REALLY is a genie- what he is doing is very dangerous! he thinks he can make a perfect wish and fix the world. “maybe it’s the whole point of our lives here, mulder- to achieve that. maybe it’s a process that one man shouldn’t try and circumvent with a single wish” <- ohhh, scully and her wisdom… and mulder and his puppy dog eyes…. she goes to leave. he keeps typing. then he says he is ready for his last wish.

AWWW, I PAUSED TO SEE THE THING HE WAS TYPING BEFORE HE TURNED IT OFF. it reads, in part: “i hereby do lay out my wish with consideration of every loophole possible” <- awwww, he was trying so hard!!! he wants to save the world!

back at his place, he puts in a movie with scully, teasing her about not wanting butter on her popcorn. they’re watching caddyshack. “it’s a classic american movie” “that’s what every guy says. it’s a guy movie” “okay, when you invite me over to your place, we can watch steel magnolias” LMAOOOO. they crack open some beers (possibly some other generic sort of soda or bottled beverage, but it LOOKS like a damn beer. only making note of this because i know what happens in the next episode). she laughs as he tries to toss his cap into the trash and misses.

ohhhhh, so they must not do regular movie nights… it seems like that anyway, based off of how she asks what the occasion is. well, don’t worry. movie nights are still gonna happen in fanfiction, even if they don’t talk about anything deep.

seems like he is willing to do at least a LITTLE deep talking tonight, though: “i don’t know if you noticed, but i never made the world a happier place” “well, i’m fairly happy. that’s something” <- OHHHHHH MY GOD. i’m gonna fall to my knees. and they smile at each other. she asks about his final wish. 

and we see that the genie is…. watching life go by in a cafe!! drinking a coffee!!

OHHH MY GOD.

immediately rewinds. 

i need to google what caddyshack is. it is a comedy about golf. writing that down to inform his taste on other matters. OHHHH, and his “i don’t know. just felt like the thing to do” when she asks why a movie night… STOP.

i kept thinking they were going to kiss again, but they didn’t. THEIR SMILES AT EACH OTHER…….

stop. mulder choosing to wish for something that would help the genie….. because he knew he couldn’t fix everything on his own… and he realized this only because scully pointed it out to him... an actual moment where he recognizes his well-meaning hubris... and the genie’s smile as she gets to live her dream… he is just a nice guy…

rewatches the scene AGAIN. her laughter when he misses the trashcan. and her nervous tapping fingers on the bottle. the fish tank in the background. and her smile when she says “that’s something” and he’s looking at herrrrr and AUGH.

and the way they get to have this rare moment of peace after so much pain…. oh my GOD, i need to lay down.

and knowing what i know happens next…. well. like i said, maybe it’s root beer and not real beer. maybe there’s a time skip of a few significant weeks or months between this episode and the next. the designs on the bottles are vague!!

RAHHHH i need to explode a little, please give me five minutes. 

(watches it again) the way she looks at him when she asks what his final wish was, AHHHH

oh my god. so yeah, this one lived up to the hype, LMAO.

a balm for my soul before we plunge into the dark times. which, like i said, i am kinda sickly excited for anyway. they said we need to pile on the silly ones NOW before things get crazy. 

i have a bunch of question as to how this next arc is going to pan out given that i know like, the very basics. but i shall try my best to be incredibly patient and wait for the answers even if they are retconned into existence a decade later, which i think is what happened. that’s the sort of stuff i bring to the table: patience (<- said by someone who is lying)

shoutout to the genie- she may have been a bitch, but she was THAT bitch. like, she took down mussolini AND nixon… that’s getting the job done!!!

ahhh…. so refreshing to feel their happiness in canon. it just bathes over you. like a balm of some sort. i can’t imagine how people see this as not worthy of exploration. you need these moments to breathe to give the audience rest in between a million episodes of saving the world. because at a certain point, saving the world isn't enough of a reason to justify the story you’re telling. you have to show us why the world deserves to be saved: because it has moments of real and genuine connection and love that make all the suffering worth it.

SIGH.

i’m sure i will have more thoughts tomorrow, but right now i need to go just sit and ponder. listen to the rain. read a book. think about what it means to be alive. 

okay, so it’s been a few days since i watched the episode, and i still have so many thoughts. one of which is that i was so SAD scully didn’t get to share her discovery of an invisible corpse with the whole world 💔 my poor queen… she was SO happy to dab all of that yellow powder on a body. not sure if we have ever seen her more excited. and she was covered in the damn stuff and it was soooo cute.

and mulder… he is just a nice man. sometimes his character writing is inconsistent or sometimes he gets ahab-y, but like at the end of the day, that is a guy who, with his full chest and heart, asked a genie for world peace. baby. baby boy. he may be a grown man, but to me that is also a baby. you understand, of course.

and he was so SMUG when he thought he figured it out lmao “can i call you JEN?” like this man 💀💀 he killlllls me!!!

and then let’s talk about scully just kinda accepting that, sure. maybe we do genies now. idgaf. we can’t arrest her. and also can she PLEASE give us like 5 minutes alone? LMAOOOO, that sent me OVERBOARD “like, today?” <- you TELL HER!!

but of course she had lots of deep and true scully wisdom to impart on him: that making the world a better place takes hard work, and maybe that is why we are here, and we cannot simply wish perfection into existence. which. when you think of the context of their stories and how much they have lost, but they keep trying to make the world a better place, even if it’s a little bit at a time, be it through finding scientific truths or putting dangerous criminals behind bars or making each other smile… SIGH.

an excellent episode. i will cherish it and hold the memories close as i type up my end of s7 favorite moments lists and then dive into the finale and s8. i look forward to meeting some new faces and seeing if i enjoy them and also obtaining a temporary citizenship in angst nation. but also i cannot do TOO much angst (gestures to s4), so we will have to see how i feel about the whole thing. i am approaching with an open mind and heart.

[geothewriter]

Any Other Way - A post-war Zutara One Shot

Happy Birthday (slightly early) to my good friend @achillmango

I wrote ya a lil something because you're an awesome person and a great editor! I legitimately couldn't have made all of this progress on Vermillion Seas Cardinal Skies without you. So... here! I ran with an idea we talked about a while back.

Special shoutout to @demaparbat-hp for helping me edit this fun piece. You helped me add the polish to make this special. <3

And so with this, my first public action as your regent Fire Lord, I declare all aggression over. Our troops will withdraw home, now, to the Fire Archipelago, or to the colonies. On that topic, as I'm sure you're well aware, the colonies are a difficult subject to consider. The newly appointed peacetime council and I have already begun correspondence with King Kuei of the Earth Kingdom to begin ratifying a joint act we like to call the Harmony Restoration Movement. It is a long road, but together, we will travel it well. I'm sure many of you are wondering why an old war general is attempting to herald peace. Why would the Dragon of the West hope for less conflict? I am an old man, and I have seen the atrocity of war. Many across the seas will know me as something else, but I assure you, I am no longer that young man. If I must answer for my past crimes and ambition, so be it. Make that call, and I shall answer. If you call prior to the passage of the next seven years, a council of responsible individuals will head this fine nation. After those seven years have elapsed, my nephew, Prince Zuko, will take the throne as Fire Lord. Until such a moment arrives, he is to contribute to communities around the across all lands, gaining post-war-time political and worldly experience prior to– Zuko gently placed the article that formerly acted as packing paper on the table. His uncle sure could write a speech when he put his mind to it. Three years. He had three years left before his freedom came to an end. A long time, to be sure, but could he really prepare himself fully for the throne in only three years? A terse sigh escaped Zuko’s lips before he turned and pulled another mug from the box on the table. Unwrapping it with care, he placed the porcelain cup in its belonging place, up in the cupboard. Another delve into the box, and he withdrew a rather large plate.  The protective paper fell to the side as he placed the tableware in another cupboard. He wondered, could it really be so simple? Would he really be able to settle down in a new location every few months for the next few years? It wasn’t like four years helped him fit in with the rest of the world. If he wasn't normal by now, then there was no way on earth three more years would do the trick. Zuko sighed. At least the nightmares had stopped midway through last summer.  It was when she joined him. It was the promise, really. “If things don’t work out, and we’re both lost and aimless in the world, promise you’ll find me?”  “Only if you promise the same.” They sealed the oath with a hug and parted ways after his Uncle’s coronation. A year passed with little contact. Zuko was too busy to think beyond the next day, and she was too busy rebuilding the south to write.  She found him in Jang Hui, while he was supervising the removal of the vast quantity of rubble from the destroyed metal foundry located there. He was overburdened, having taken on both that and the difficult job of establishing a more robust local government, as well as setting up a makeshift hospital to get them back on their feet. He was more stressed than he could ever remember. He hadn't slept properly in days. Hadn't eaten, either.  Then she happened. 

Continue Reading on AO3.

[ohhcinnybuns]

I'm here to yap

Hi, I'm here to yap about one of my best Tumblr friend, @anticidic

I am here to provide her and you with my top 10 Rosie ficlets because I need to gush about what an amazing writer she has become and how I'm very proud of her. Have you read her work? It's amazing! You should give them a read if you haven't yet.

So, if you don't mind my yap fest, here it goes.

TOP 10 ANTICIDIC FICLETS THAT DROVE ME INSANE AND HAD ME SCREAMING LIKE A BOILING KETTLE (a thread????)

I once created a mechanical butterfly so I could watch it soar through the sky,  the springs clink, a bolt fallen from its... – @anticidic on Tumblr The steamiest of steamiest steampunk au. When I tell you that I ROLLED in my bed, kicked my feet, gasped into my phone, giggled like crazy, this is it. I know we talked about this AU, and I can't remember how it spawned to save my life, but I LOVE everything about it. If this was read as a podfic, I would keep it on repeat. Easily, #1.

ONE DAY I WILL RETURN TO YOUR SIDE by @anticidic You've often annihilated my feelings, but a true writer becomes a writer when the feelings overtake them. You cried. I cried. I think everyone cried. I was an emotional wreck, BUT what I love about your fics is that they always have some comfort, and you did this just right.

ONLY FOR THE STARS IN YOUR EYES – @anticidic on Tumblr This AU has tortured me because we talk about it often BUT HE'S ONLY BEEN WRITTEN ABOUT ONCE. But the fear that comes from Snakezai being found out by Chuuya... the suspense kills me. Literally, you did the suspense so wonderfully here that I was on the edge of my seat.

Dear writing muse, Here is a writing prompt to help get you into the spooky mood: "Don’t you want to be consumed by what loves... – @anticidic on Tumblr I believe I came to you with this prompt to help you with your Halloween spooks and man, did I. eat. THIS. UP. Your kitsunes have altered my neurons, and I will SWEAR to have your kitsunes with their happy ending, or so help me, I WILL come for your knees. I will walk your halls like a zombie and pop out of your TV. I still GRRRRRR GRRRRRR BARK when I read it. Which reminds me, did you know she added more to her Halloween zine piece? heheehehhehe... check out her ao3.

UNSPOKEN PROMISES – @anticidic on Tumblr Snowzai, my dear Snowzai, he's the love of my life. Of course, a top 10 fic wouldn't be top 10 without Snowzai's mentions. The sun to my moon. I BREATHE him, and you know this; this has had to be the most wholesome Snowzai you've written yet. I love him with his flowers and little animal friends and being cared for. The fluff, the comfort, the little things that make him happy. He's everything, and we gotta protect him at all costs.

SO SHALL THE RIVER OF TIME FLOW Snow White!Dazai dreams a most peculiar dream about the Queen's magic mirror. He blows away the... – @anticidic on Tumblr Now... the downside of Snowzai is the overwhelming amount of angst, and we've yapped about him for what feels like centuries now, but this absolutely hurt my feelings and had me internally screaming and falling to my knees. This little paragraph alone was enough to remind me that... I really do love to hurt my own feelings, and you are too good at ANGST. Maybe I should give you nicer prompts from now on, lol. "Then, the sound of glass breaking. The same kind he heard back at the castle, far down the corridor and to the left when Mother dropped her crystal glass and screamed wordlessly. The anger that filtered through the halls and attached itself to the walls."

In a kingdom not too far away, where love blooms like early spring, there is a ball for the royal ladies and gentleman that... – @anticidic on Tumblr Snowzai. That is the literal tweet. But the reason I have this snowzai at #7 is because I love how you capture the moment - Dazai done with his heels and Chuuya still as princely as ever. This is what I love about romantic fairytales au's. Your post inspired my writing, and I can't tell you enough how much I love it.

hello! if it’s not to late to ask and if it hasn’t already been asked for, number 6 + ssk? – @anticidic on Tumblr This one is skk on a mission but Dazai being the most playful Dazai in existence. There is a playfulness to your SKK Dazai's that always have me giggling and kicking my feet, and I think you encompass his assholery just right, ehehe. This one was fun to read!

It often goes like this in movies, someone abandons reason over fear, A little interesting if you ask me. So to warm up your... – @anticidic on Tumblr Another kitsune mention, but this one is just one of those that hit me with gut punches. You beat up my feelings with your kitsunes. The psychological turmoil with Chuuya taking some of Kitsunezai's memories and how it affects them both... What is real? What is yearning? What is psychosis?

Metamorphosis by @anticidic Speaking of Psychosis. You just dropped this and it's already here with my top 10. I love Swan Lake. I love ballet aus. Something about the emotional turmoil in Dazai and how much Chuuya has become his obsession to reach yet toss away... omg... imma go slide down a wall after posting this. I KNEW IT WAS AN EMOTIONAL TRAIN WRECK, BUT I'M OKAY. EVERYTHING IS OKAY. EVERYTHING IS FINE (it's not fine). But, I reiterate my earlier statement: when you write with your feelings, it shows, and this was wonderfully written. From the mental turmoil to the physical injury, I felt that.

I guess this ends my yap fest, hehe. If you've made it this far, you are a trooper, and I hope you learned a little more about Rosie and why I think she's a wonderful writer, and why I love her ficlets. Don't forget to follow her ao3 for more SKK content. You'll always be in for a treat.

[lunainlove]

I feel like I have read all the good fanfics on ao3 for ghostsoap 😭😭 in times like this I hate being so picky with what I read and all the other fanfics that catch my attention are not finished and I refuse to read until they are done because I’m not patient at all so I’m left with nothing 😭😭😭 and finding good fics is so difficult on ao3 like I usually get what I read from recommendations, snooping into my fav authors bookmarks and pure luck

Anyway if someone has good fanfics please lmk I’m open to anything but recently I’ve been craving some mission focused fic or something like that with found family (I’m a sucker for gaz price ghost soap laswell ale and rudy together) and a happy ending because the I absolutely adore angst as long as there’s a happy ending 😭😭😭😭

[stromchaserwrites]

Red Ribbons - Brooklyn Beginnings

a/n: Hello and welcome to Red Ribbon! I changed Bucky and Steve's ages, and for the purposes of this story, they were born in 1919. This fic starts in 1936. Bucky and Steve are 16, and Lucy is 14.

Hope you enjoy!

xx Stormchaserwrites

Chapter 1: Brooklyn Beginnings - 2.3k

Red ribbons, scraped knees, and two boys who made the whole world feel bigger than it was.

Lucy Rogers wasn't supposed to be following them.

Stevie had said it real clear before he left the apartment that morning: "You stay here, Lucy. Me and Buck got things to do."

But telling Lucy no was about as helpful as telling the tide not to come in. All it had done was make her mad. She had waited until the boys had gotten down to the lobby of their apartment building before asking her Ma if she could trail along. 

“Go ahead,” Her mother had said. “Just stay with your brother and stay out of trouble.” 

She trailed them three steps behind, her worn pink shoes scuffing along the Brooklyn sidewalk, the tails of her white hair ribbons flapping with every bounce. She'd worn her favorite dress, too — blue with tiny white flowers — hoping Stevie and Buck might let her tag along if she looked nice enough.

They hadn't noticed her yet. Bucky was too busy telling Stevie some loud story, hands flying, and Stevie was laughing the kind of laugh Lucy didn't hear enough lately. Since their Pa had passed away things at home hadn’t been the same. Steve had also been sick lately, constantly being wracked with fits of wheezing. She smiled to herself. She loved when Stevie laughed. It meant he wasn't coughing or getting into fights with boys bigger than him.

The New York winter had finally given way to spring. Everywhere Lucy looked she saw green trees and beautiful flower boxes. The smell of grass and flowers mixed with the air around her. She closed her eyes letting herself enjoy the sweet spring breeze, tilting her head up towards the sky. 

She had no idea that she was heading into someone until a rough voice barked, "Hey.” 

Lucy jumped.

A group of boys, about four or five of them, all bigger and meaner-looking than her, had stepped out from an alleyway that led into the park. Their eyes glinted when they saw her. They weren't much older, maybe a couple of years. They were probably close to Stevie’s age, but they might as well have been giants to Lucy. .

"Ain't that Rogers' little sister?"

"Definitely. Look the little brat’s got ribbons," another sneered. "Whatcha playin' at, princess?"

Lucy backed up, heart pounding. 

"I'm not — I'm just—"

One of them lunged, and Lucy tried to dodge, but he caught her by the arm and yanked. She stumbled, knees scraping against the rough pavement. Pain flared, hot and bright. Her blue dress tore at the hem.

"Oww," she whimpered, trying to get up.

“HEY" Steve's voice cracked through the air, furious. "Leave her alone!”

Lucy whipped her head around. Stevie was already running, Bucky right beside him, faces twisted in rage.

"You lousy punks," Bucky growled. "You think you're tough pushin' around a kid?"

The boys scattered when they saw them coming, but not fast enough. Steve came straight at them, fists flying. Bucky grabbed another by the collar and slammed him against the alley wall.

"Touch her again," Bucky snarled low, "and you'll be spittin' teeth for a week."

The boys didn't stay to argue. They scrambled to their feet and tore down the alley, shouting insults over their shoulders.

Steve wiped his bloody knuckles on his pants, breathing hard. He turned and rushed to Lucy.

"Lou, you okay?" he said, voice squeaky from running.

"I'm fine," Lucy lied, tears burning her eyes. Her knee throbbed terribly. Ma was going to kill her. 

Bucky crouched beside her. "Lemme see, Lucy."

"No, I’m fi—"

But Bucky was already gently pulling her hands away from her knee. She winced. Blood was trickling down her shin.

"Jamie," she whimpered, hating how small her voice sounded.

Something in Bucky's face softened completely when she said it.

"S'okay, Lou. We'll fix you up." He helped her up before lifting her carefully into his arms. Lucy buried her face against his shoulder, her face flushed with embarrassment and pain.

"You're gonna get blood on your shirt," she mumbled.

"Don't care," Bucky said. "Not the first time."

Steve walked close beside them, glaring at every passerby who gave them a funny look. That was what Lucy loved most about her brother. As much as he loved to tease and annoy her, he was also her fiercest protector. Only Bucky seemed to rival him in that regard. 

They got her back to the Rogers' apartment, and Bucky set her down on the tiny kitchen table like she was made of glass.

Lucy looked around the room. Thank goodness their Ma must have been out running errands or spending time with one of the neighbors. 

"Steve, get the kit," Bucky said, rolling up his sleeves.

Steve hustled to the cupboard and yanked down the old first-aid tin. Lucy twisted her fingers together nervously.

"It's just a scrape," she tried again. The last thing she wanted was for Bucky to see her as a weak little baby. 

"Scrape or not, Doll," Bucky said with a teasing grin, "can't have you fallin' apart on us. Who else is gonna keep Stevie outta trouble?"

Steve snorted. "She needs more watchin' than I do." 

Lucy shot Steve a glare. 

"She needs better watchin'," Bucky muttered under his breath.

Bucky knelt down and dabbed at her knee with a cloth. It stung like mad, like a thousand little needles poking into her skin and she yelped.

"Sorry, sweetheart," Bucky murmured. "Almost done."

He was so close she could see the little scar above his eyebrow, the one he'd gotten falling off the back of a truck last summer, trying to impress some girl. She had been secretly mad at him for weeks when it happened. But now his eyes were bright blue and full of some emotion Lucy couldn't quite name.

"You're real brave, Lucy," he said, tying a piece of clean gauze around her knee with surprising gentleness.

"Am not," Lucy whispered, blushing furiously.

"Are too." He winked at her. "Tougher'n Steve here, that's for sure."

"Hey!" Steve protested.

Bucky grinned that wicked grin that always made Lucy's stomach do somersaults.

"Not tougher than me, though," Bucky added, tapping her nose lightly. "Gotta work on that."

Lucy giggled despite herself. James was just too sweet sometimes.

Steve crossed his arms, scowling. "Quit flirtin' with my sister, Buck."

"I'm just cheerin' her up," Bucky said, all innocent. But Lucy knew better. It was like they had their own secret language. The only problem was that Lucy never knew if he was serious or stringing her down a path she was in too deep to turn around, even if she wanted to.  

"Cheerin' her up, my butt," Steve grumbled.

Bucky finished tying the bandage and stood up, ruffling Lucy's hair and tugging lightly at one of her ribbons.

"There," he said. "Good as new."

Lucy smiled shyly, tucking the ribbon back into place.

"Thank you, Jamie," she said.

Bucky's ears turned pink, but he just shrugged like it was nothing.

Steve sighed and muttered something about "troublemakers" and "bad influences" but didn't push the issue.

"C'mon," Steve said, jerking his thumb toward the door. "Mom's gonna be back soon. You need rest, Lou."

"I don't want to rest," Lucy said stubbornly. She hated when Steve told her what to do. 

"You gotta," Steve insisted. "Doctor's orders."

"You're not a doctor," she pointed out.

"I'm your brother. Close enough."

Bucky laughed and scooped her up again before she could protest. "C'mon, Doll. Up you go."

He carried her to the couch and tucked a ratty blanket around her before sitting down next to her. Lucy pouted but didn't really mind. Being fussed over by Bucky was nice, even if it was embarrassing.

Steve hovered for a few more minutes before finally relaxing enough to sit down. He pulled out the funny pages from the paper and started reading aloud.

Lucy let the sound of Stevie's voice, the blanket and the warm weight of Bucky's shoulder lull her into a dozy sort of comfort. She fingered the ends of her ribbons sleepily.

Bucky caught her eye once, gave her a little wink.

Lucy blushed bright red and buried her face in his shoulder.

Maybe getting scraped up wasn't so bad after all.

She had always liked ribbons.

Her Ma said she'd been grabbing at them since she was old enough to sit up on her own. Lucy loved the way ribbons danced when she ran, loved how they made her feel just a little fancier as she walked in the streets of Brooklyn.

When she was six, she found a ribbon tied around a candied apple at the small fall fair down from their house. It was almost too small to even be made into a bow, but to Lucy, it was her most prized possession. Ma tied it carefully into her hair every day until it was so frayed her mom special ordered a set of multicolored ribbons from the corner store. From that day on, Lucy wore ribbons almost every day. Tied into bows, braided through her hair, sometimes looped around her ponytail. They made her feel bold. They made her feel seen.

And maybe they made her easier to spot, too.

"Hey, Red!" Bucky Barnes hollered across the street one afternoon, grinning as he waved her over.

Lucy, clutching her small paper bag of penny candy, darted between the crowd toward him, the ends of her red ribbons flapping in the wind like flags. She fought the blush that was trying to make its way across her cheeks. To Lucy, Bucky was the most beautiful boy. From the day that he had walked through the door of their family apartment with a busted lip and Steve under his arm, she had been enchanted with him. Unfortunately for her, he was her brother's best friend, and Steve had made it clear she was very off limits. 

Steve was sitting on the curb beside Bucky, sketchbook balanced on his knees, tongue poking out in concentration.

"I’m not Red," Lucy said, wrinkling her nose.

"You sure about that, sweetheart?" Bucky teased, reaching out to tug playfully on one of her ribbons. "Looks pretty red to me."

Lucy blushed, shoving him in retaliation. "That's just my ribbon, Jamie."

Bucky laughed — a real warm, easy sound that made her stomach twist. "Well, it's a good name for ya. Stands out. Like you."

Steve looked up from his drawing and gave a lopsided smile. "You do stick out, Luce. Always running after us like a little puppy."

"I don't run after you!" Lucy protested.

"Sure you don't, Red," Bucky said, winking.

Lucy stomped her foot, but it only made both boys laugh harder.

From that day on, it stuck.

Bucky started calling her "Red" whenever he spotted her. At the market, on the stoop, chasing after Stevie with her hair ribbons streaming behind her. He said it as if it were a secret joke, as if he were the only one allowed to know how special she was.

At first, Lucy pretended she didn't like it. The boys were always taking every chance they could to tease her, making her mad and then running off in a fit of laughter. 

But then Steve started using it too. He always said it in a soft and fond voice, like when he tucked a scarf around her neck that winter and said, "Stay warm, Red," or when he grabbed her hand and pulled her behind him in a crowd, saying, "Careful there, Red."

After that, Lucy decided maybe she didn’t mind so much.

One afternoon, when Lucy was about fifteen, she sat cross-legged on the stoop outside their apartment, trying hard to tie two brand-new red ribbons into her braids. They were a birthday present from Steve. He had saved up nickels and dimes for months from sweeping floors at the tailor's shop, and Lucy loved them more than anything.

Bucky came sauntering down the street, hands shoved into the pockets of his worn coat.

"Hey, Red," he called, grinning that lopsided grin that made Lucy's cheeks burn.

"Hey, Jamie," she said, fumbling with the knot she was trying to tie.

He plopped down next to her on the stoop without asking, close enough that their shoulders bumped. A blush threatened to come forward. Over the years, Lucy had gotten used to Bucky’s charming personality, but she could never deny the soft spot in her heart that beat only for him. 

"Those new?" he asked, nodding at her ribbons.

"Yeah," Lucy said proudly. "Stevie got 'em for me."

Bucky leaned in, studying the bright red bow that fell just over her shoulder like it was a really important thing. He was close enough that she could smell the faint scent of his soap.

"Well, they suit you," he said quietly. "Red’s your color, Lou."

Lucy felt her heart beat up into her throat. Oh well, she thought so much for trying not to blush. 

"You say that about everything," she muttered, looking down to fiddle with the ends of the ribbon. The last thing she needed was for Bucky to see that his sweet, charming personality still had an effect on her. 

"Nah," Bucky said, bumping his knee against hers. "Just you, Red."

Lucy smiled to herself. 

Across the street, Steve stuck his head out of the corner store and yelled, "Quit flirtin' with my sister, Buck!"

Bucky just laughed, easy and unbothered. "Just callin' it like I see it, Steve!"

Lucy ducked her head so they wouldn't see how deep her red cheeks had gotten — redder than her ribbons, probably.

Sometime over the past couple of years, Red had become something more than a nickname between the three of them. 

It was her name when Steve tucked her behind him in a fight, when Bucky picked her up and spun her around to make her laugh, when they all raced each other down the street, her hair ribbons streaming like a banner.

It was the name for when she was brave, when she was stubborn, when she was soft, or when she was hurt.It was hers, and it was theirs, and it meant home.