#Maybe his eyes are always blue because he is depressed LMAO

[softseaside]

Blauauge (”blue eye”) but give him different eyes colors depending on his mood 😐🤢😡🥰🤨

Since he has access to the Thaumaturgy cantrip as a tiefling, I liked the idea that he can change his eye colors depending on his mood 👀💙 They only change when feeling very strong emotions and he doesn’t notice the color change 🤔

Blauauge didn’t raise up with other tieflings and therefore feels disconnected to his heritage and doesn’t know how to use his corresponding tiefling traits 🤔 ALSO, he is very bad at regulating his emotions ✨

[slowd1ving]

Hiiiii can u write Kim Dokja x Goth!Male!reader this sponsor constellation is Apollo and The reader is a simp for Dokja ( I love this man )

LOVE LIKE BLOOD ・゜゜KIM DOKJA

“The life is short, and I’m running faster all the time, Strength and beauty destined to decay, So cut the rose in full bloom.” By chance you meet him, by chance you become his friend, by chance you stay by his side; until it cannot be called fickle, capricious chance any longer, but an example of the inevitable law of universal attraction between two starving masses. art by @ 1L9l2Aa8UCL0IGJ (blackbox) on x! also thank you anon this ask was so big brained I yapped on for like 5k words (very sorry if you wanted headcanon/drabble form I got the most profound inspiration for this at like 3am :3) also damn you have no idea how many song titles I was perusing trying to find a suitable one for this... pairing: kim dokja + male goth reader warnings: pretty graphic metaphors, child abandonment/implied parental death, child neglect + abuse, alcohol, smoking, depression + bullying, hurt/comfort, injury, violence (as it's orv), does 10+ year long pining and oddly tense homoeroticism need a warning, anon I hope you ENJOY reading because I enjoyed writing wc: 5.6k (YAP because i love this silly man, I've never written so much for a request before lmao)

ORV MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST ・゜・NAVIGATION

Fundamentally, you and him are the same. 

There’s a sense of loss that’s too heavy for either of your bodies to comprehend. Rather than a heart, there’s a black hole right where the organ lies; so greedy, so hungry for acknowledgement. Born blue into this world—deprived of oxygen yet wailing, screaming for your voice to be heard—it’s little wonder you’ve always been avaricious for the love your parents could never give. The hands cradling the babe were never loving; they were clinical, they were covered in sterile blue gloves and they smelled only of caustic antiseptic. There was no kiss on your slimy, puckered forehead. There was only the sting of alcoholic sanitiser. 

Kim Dokja is similar, yet his parents wouldn’t (rather than couldn’t, for in your embittered mind the two concepts were so different as to be alien) spare him scraps of care. Rather than press a kiss to their son’s awaiting cheek, only bruises blossomed where the love should’ve been. No flowers were given for Children’s Day—only oily blood spilling and macerating against his chubby hands as a last, vibrant gift for their son. 

These two black holes sputtered on their axes while they spun round each other: gluttonous, esurient for care that didn’t come with bruises and wailing grief. 

Seoul had been unusually cold; blue afternoons spanned across the school rooftops. They were frigid and foggy—perfect for avoiding detection. Thus, the boy without kisses (only contused skin) encountered another like him on the rooftop that day. Against the haze, your own cigarette smoke had dulled the edges of what he saw—a boy canted against the railing with rippling earphones and a head tilted so far back he could taste the polluted mist. 

A merger had occurred. 

And though neither of you said it, there was an unspoken recognition of each other’s greed in that moment. Your eyes, ghosting over his injuries while the heavy bass played and the prussic wisps trailed around him: deep reverberations sounding a bit too like his careening heartbeat—as he made sure no one had followed him up here, that he was safe. And his umbrous eyes—honed in on the cigarette wedged between your lips, now stained black from the gloss decorating your humourless smile.

Maybe it was just that inherent feeling of kinship that came with avariciousness: a snarling sort of camaraderie that snagged at your skin with its claws. The wounds left behind were tender, but tender was precisely the adjective you were looking for—as was he. 

And so, Kim Dokja found himself coming to this particular rooftop the next day. When his breathing came ragged and his vision began to swim, he instinctively sought the numbness the frigid azurine firmament would bring. Like a wounded animal, he sought safety. Flight over fight—a lesson he’d learnt too late. Bruised fists would never save him. 

There you sat—eyes closed and lips still glossed in modest black. There were silver rings on your hands; rings he’d seen flashing before his eyes before he was hit, that those people no longer sported. Quietly, he matched up the scrapes on your own knuckles to the ones decorating their faces: to their unusual sullenness today. They’d furtively sequestered themselves in a club room all break, touching their swollen lips and eyes with bruised fists. Bruised fists. Like trophies, the achromatic metal glinted against the cobalt haze, and for once, his heart didn’t skip any beats at the sight of the gleaming metal. Neither did you acknowledge his presence nor their sins, but still, he sat on the same bench you were sprawled upon: hugging his bag to his chest while he scrolled the hallowed pixels of Ways of Survival. 

There was no grand exchange of words, no heartfelt conversations between Kim Dokja and the boy with a messed-up uniform. 

This was how tentative company was kept for a fragile week. 

Tuesday was the day that fragility finally shattered. He still remembers every detail about it—down to the particular cigarette brand you’d purchased that morning, down to the chips in your dark nail polish, down to just how many rings you’d worn on your left hand (three—it was three rings). Tears had spilled down his cheeks that afternoon; they warped and distorted the words that had saved him thus far, evoked from the pain in his purple ribs and his empty stomach. Somehow, the salt he’d kept tightly bound had been coaxed by your cold presence—perhaps, knowing your indifference made it easier to cry pathetically in front of you. 

You still didn’t speak, but you did hand him a tissue. You still didn’t speak, but you did press your shoulder to his own trembling one: smelling of caustic smoke, and something rich and sweet lingering beneath the plumes. You still didn’t speak, but your rings clinked on your left hand as you unhooked the earbud in your pierced ear and offered it to him: fingers brushed against his palm as he was forcibly shocked out of crying any further, like a blubbering child faced with such a conundrum that their little brains focused entirely on that rather than the reason for their tears. 

Melancholy had streamed out of the device. Doleful chords twined against threnetic voices—which he could not translate nor understand but could feel in pulsing waves. 

In that short whorl in the great machine of time, in the chill of the blue hour, he could not help but feel warm.

And thus, that Tuesday changed the trajectory of this merger somewhat. A deafening hum had finally blossomed from the gargantuan event; your presence could no longer be described as distant. 

When he went to class the next day, you were in the seat next to him: a mirage brought on by his lack of food, no doubt. He limped to his desk, but there your corporeal form remained: this time with silver chains lining the base of your throat and a dry, sharp grin decorating your face. Sure, he knew there was a student that never showed up in his class, but he wasn’t expecting it to be you: your name now a permanent fixture in his mind. 

There was a new name for this phenomenon: friendship. 

The boy, with the pensive music and trophies stolen from Dokja’s tormentors, smiled up at the reader staring at him. It was an inviting gesture: the proverbial hand reaching out, the hand which he took.

You weren’t a particularly talkative friend at first: preferring to simply share your music rather than speak much. That was fine with him—it wasn’t like he wasn’t used to reading alone. Then, you started bringing boxes of food alongside your cigarettes: containers that lacked the refinement of store bought meals. One for you, and one sheepishly thrust out to him with a smile bright as burst yolk and as messy as it too. Consequently, he returned a wobbly, unsure smile back at you—not mentioning that the vegetables were slightly burnt, slightly too salty. But that was fine. The more lunches you brought, the more skilled your hands became—until he never felt truly full unless he was eating what you gave him. 

In return, he cracked open his soul: pried its rusted walls with bleeding fingernails in a gesture never before seen, not since his childhood when he still knew what hope meant. Dokja for once didn’t blubber apologies and pleas for mercy—but became a teenager rather than a groveller. He complained about teachers, he discussed Ways of Survival at length (noting how you listened even when you showed no particular interest in reading it), he finally developed his own, modest aspirations for his own life. Lying in his bed in his lonely apartament, it suddenly didn’t feel so claustrophobic (yet somehow far too big for one) when you were there with your shoulder just brushing his own. 

You were not as cold as you seemed: though this was always obvious from that fateful Tuesday. You made fun of and empathised with the eternal regressor; you diligently stood at his half-broken stove frying meat and vegetables; and you talked at length about whatever band you were currently into—“I’ll take you to one of their concerts when we’re older,” leaving your lips, for your dense black-hole hearts did not conceptualise a future where the other was not present. He saw your loneliness—heard the rumours of you bouncing around from orphanage to orphanage, roaming the streets and working nights rather than return to that boreal home. 

So, more nights than not, he woke up from his nightmares to see you sleeping on the small couch in his home—legs just about peeking over the armrest, for your avarice didn’t only cover the abstract but the heaps of food you swiped from the canteen (and over the past two years he’d known you, you got your growth spurt far more obviously than he had). It partly contributed to almost skittish aversion his tormentors had of him—one you never did acknowledge, and so he learnt quickly to not mention it either. In this way, he too never mentioned why he invited you to sleep over more nights than not. And so, neither of your selfish hearts ever spoke a word of pity, but rather conveyed an unspoken understanding that bound the two of you in this merger. 

This routine continued.

He enlisted after graduating from the local university, and so did you—suffering the eighteen months of hazing with the smoke lingering on your skin and that same, humourless smile he first saw on your face. Frigid mornings turned his own lips as blue as the sky, yet he found it was harder to feel the chill when he saw you. Just like back then, you wore the same smile that brimmed with such colour it was practically incandescent with its heat. 

Two outcasts. It was hilariously terrible. Two outcasts, still sharing a pair of earbuds that had seen better days—blaring out the dolorous music that had grown on him, that described this situation perfectly. Stars were strewn in the fabric enveloped around you: memories that would continue to shine even after the world slowly marched towards its apocalypse. 

In that cramped bunkroom, it had been just like school—blue nights with the moon just barely peeking through the window, with your leg still hanging off the side of the bunk and within his field of vision. And he still found the steady rise and fall of your breathing far more comforting than any white noise: like a guard dog, almost, you still shielded him by his proximity to you throughout the brutal eighteen months of mandated service. 

Adulthood had crept up unbidden. In his single-room apartment, he sat on his couch with your legs sprawled just as lazy as they had been eight years prior. Though, your appearance certainly had changed—beneath the loose material of your tank top, he could see the ink seeping and decorating your skin. He’d gone with you to the underground artists right after the discharge: worriedly biting his lip while you simply grinned at him as if there wasn’t a needle pressing into you. And despite his initial concern, he couldn’t seem to tear his gaze away—sneaking glances even as he browsed through job sites since the winding patterns under the fabric and silver jewellery was oddly entrancing to the eye. 

In the end, he applied to the same company you had done on a whim: Minosoft, where you carefully wiped off the black residue on your lips and the smudged pencil round your eyes. You still shared your earbud with him on the subway (though you’d sent him your playlist aeons ago), you still smoked the same brand you did eight years ago, you still occasionally put on those rings you’d kept as prized trophies, you still made two sets of lunches for work. You still listened over drinks while hammered Dokja updated you on the latest update of Ways of Survival. You still angled your body just so, so that you would bear the brunt of Han Myungoh’s scolding rather than him. 

You hadn’t changed. 

But in some ways, he could no longer see the same boyish guy who’d awkwardly offered him his earbuds nine years ago. The look in your eyes was far more intense, the messy smiles splitting your cheeks were sharper, more overwhelming, and there was no longer any clumsiness in your movements from your sudden growth spurt from years prior. Even the very hand that occasionally clasped his shoulder, even the legs that you still casually flung over his on his beaten old couch, were far more scorching than he remembered. 

You had changed. 

And in the end, it was him who was left behind. 

Eternal loser, Kim Dokja. 

Though, he could never find fault with you for that. Not when you leaned over the tangle of limbs on his couch, not when he caught the thread of oud lingering beneath the smoke on your throat, and not when you thrust your phone screen at his face with that stupidly boyish grin that only peeked out when you brimmed with excitement—with a “look, I finally got us tickets for this festival!”. And he knew at that moment that you weren’t leaving him behind: stretching out your rough palm just like you had more than a decade ago. 

He let you tousle his hair to give it more spikes. He let you dress him up in your clothes—they sat too large on his frame, but he found himself unconsciously burying his body in the fabric that smelled like your laundry. He let you slip your rings onto his fingers: slender digits jolting at the sensation of the cool metal and the action itself. 

Finally, he let you rub your dark pencil on his lashline—lids fluttering up at yours while he did his best to not avert his stare. His gaze traced the bold lines of your brows and eyes, and finally onto the dark stain on your lips as you bit them in concentration. “There,” you’d murmured, gently grasping his chin. “That looks pretty.” 

And just like the loser he was, he felt his chest tighten at the casual compliment, for seemingly no reason. 

Over the din of the hall, he could barely hear the ebb and flow of music. Goth chords jostled him, weaving past the throes of post-punk and metal as band after band took the stage. In this crush of people, he was more focused on how your index finger threaded through his left-most belt loop; linking the two of you just enough that he wouldn’t get thrown into the mosh pit. No doubt the buzz of cheap liquor contributed to his distracted train of thoughts—he never was the best at handling alcohol. His hazy gaze distorted his view of your side profile; in the dim lights, obviously the wide smile (yolk-like, as was your grin years back) couldn’t possibly be that bright. 

It was at this moment that sentimentality got to him. He was thankful that his friend had stuck by his side for so long: gazing so softly at your happy expression he was unaware of his look himself. 

This was the night before the apocalypse began. 

When the crowds trickled out, when the reverb of bass still played through the club, you hugged him tight for coming with you. Outcast with the outcast, you’d thought introspectively. There were cheap spirits clouding your mind that night—a hangover would surely strike you come morning—which was why you weren’t as reserved as you usually were. As you leaned down to press the man into your arms, your lips had brushed past his cheek accidentally, and you could feel the black hole in the centre of your chest constrict. 

Profanities had whirled through your mind when the dark smudge remained on his cheek, and especially so as he made no move to wipe the umbrous gloss off on the subway back. Or maybe he just hadn’t noticed—not with the flush on his cheeks from the alcohol in his system. There was a terrible, discordant crescendo to your pulse as you gazed at him. The gloss, from where it smeared slightly past the boundaries of your lips, burned your skin. But you made no moves to wipe the corners either—for this night only, there was something linking Kim Dokja to you. 

Thus, for the first time since he was a mere babe cradled in his mother’s arms, there was a kiss planted on his cheek that wasn’t from a fist. An accidental one, but one that could not be considered devoid of affection. And though neither of you remembered it after the hazy stupor faded, it did not change the fact that it happened nonetheless. 

A small snippet of joy in the bleak landscape. A caesura found within the long, winding elegy of this world. A reprieve before tragedy. 

It was a fitting conclusion for the night before the end. 

✦ . 　⁺ 

[The free service has now been terminated.]

Back in the carriage, wedged between Yoo Sangah and Kim Dokja, the two of you had shared a glance confirming the unspoken truth. Minds intrinsically linked together—he did not need to speak for you to understand his thoughts immediately. And Yoo Sangah had recognised this—as did she remember the devoted gleam in your eyes whenever you spoke to or of the man seated adjacent to you. Yet ultimately, her lips would remain closed. 

When the scenarios began, it was Kim Dokja’s turn to repay you. He would be your shield moving forward—protecting your messy smile even as the world burned away. He vowed this to himself, and though the promise was heard only by him, it did not change the fact that the constellations watching him and his companions could see the oath brimming from him as he put you first. 

[Almighty Sun has sponsored you.]

Even when Apollo chose you as his incarnation, even when you were just as capable as you had been before the cataclysm occurred—he could not help but feel his fists clench as you put yourself in danger. 

“Hold on,” you’d murmured, rings flashing as you’d caught his wrist in your firm grasp. Even with his coins improving his stats, he still felt so much weaker than you—still the boy who ran to the rooftops while your fists bruised against the faces of those who tormented him. 

Had your touch always been so scalding?

Privately, he thought Apollo had chosen the right person—smile bright as the sun, skilled fingers deft enough to play the electric guitar you’d bought on a whim, presence practically a healing balm for his soul. 

“You’re injured, Dokja-ya.” And the words had made him shiver as the syllables ghosted over his flesh—your face was too close to his chest where he’d been slashed by a monster, while the affectionate tone added to his name made this situation far worse than it was. Secluded like this, in an abandoned corner of the station, it was easy to misread the situation; this was the only reason his face flushed red. His friend was far too close. When those aforementioned fingertips brushed over the wound—just grazing the wounded flesh—he jolted. From the pain, of course. 

[The Demon-like Judge of Fire has sponsored 200 coins.]

[The Demon-like Judge of Fire would like to see more action.]

“Steady.” You eased him against a pillar while ignoring the message—ignoring how your pulse was now leaden in your mouth, how the golden gleam stitching flesh back together seemed far more shaky than usual. Though, you couldn’t ignore the pain you felt as you saw the rise and fall of his torso grow shallow; you were useless when it counted—arrows meeting their target far too late. 

“Dokja-ya,” you breathed, sweeping the hair that plastered to his clammy forehead. He didn’t meet your eyes, and the heavy feeling in your chest grew more burdensome. He was supposed to tell you what was wrong; as his best friend, you duly heard his complaints and dealt with them where you could. More often than not, you could intuitively tell what bothered him; much like you had from the very first day you saw him all those years ago. And as time passed, the object of your adoration only grew easier to read. 

But he was never avoidant like this. 

What happened? As you watched him leave with heavy steps and not a glance spared back, you could feel the crushing weight of the sky drop back down on your shoulders. Fuck. Burying your face in your hands, you barely registered the message that popped up. 

[The Demon-like Judge of Fire expresses her sympathy.]

[The Demon-like Judge of Fire says she knows how the two of you can make up.]

[The Demon-like Judge of Fire sponsors 69 coins.]

[The Almighty Sun tells the Demon-like Judge of Fire to not be stingy.]

[The Almighty Sun sponsors 6969 coins.]

[The Almighty Sun empathises with a lover’s quarrel.]

“Shut up,” you seethed, and the bad mood carried on late into the night. It was obvious to anyone with eyes; the conjured lamps lining the perimeter of camp had seethed with you. Gold had been interspersed with bleeding red—crackling like true fire, though it was anything but. Even the tattoos that lined your skin had begun eroding into ember-like patterns, as though lava was breaking through the dermis of your skin. 

Unsurprisingly, it was Yoo Sangah that had approached first: past the harsh glow of your lamps, gracefully weaving through the brightness with the light steps that belied her nebula. She’d taken a glance at the incandescent splintering of your body, your hands furiously working away at the guitar plugged into your practically-bulletproof earphones, and finally the imposing frame of Yoo Joonghyuk only a few metres away as he stood guard tonight. 

But when you paused, when you hastily yanked the buds from your ears, she could also see the wobble in your lip. The furrow in your brows wasn’t angry, it was anguished, while the fearsome glare in your eyes contained only pain. If she was being honest, it was hard to approach you at work and even nowadays—with ease, you picked off enemies from a distance and your longbow conveniently morphed into two curved daggers when it came down to it. You were a maelstrom with the capacity to take lives—stained with blood as you bared your proverbial teeth at any threats to Dokja. But it was precisely that that allowed her to see your stupidly blind adoration of this man. 

(“Your devotion will only hurt you,” she says, as if that will dissuade you. You’ll take whatever feeling he gives you: greedily swallowing each and every morsel of emotion. Tender is your heart, but tender is good. It means you aren’t going mad over the situation you’re in.

“Yoo Sangah, I appreciate the advice,” you reply politely—you do respect her, after all. “But I do not mind that.”)

Yoo Joonghyuk had bemusedly watched as she left: staring the the dim red tattoos strewn across your body as if they could possibly help him decipher the fool in front of him. His Sage’s Eye flashed as golden as your lamps for a brief moment—detecting that your statement had, in fact, been true. 

Fool, he’d said as your hands flew over the fretboard once more. Fool, as you disappeared up the stairs to the rooftop. Fool, when your lips had pressed together tightly against one another. 

You did mind, even when you thought it was the unequivocal truth that you didn’t. 

Maybe it was futile to even think it, but he thought that idiot didn’t deserve the long-standing care in your hands, and the veneration in the timbres of your voice. It was pointless to get attached to someone like that—especially when the end of the world was upon you. 

But you wouldn’t know that, since you could not read his mind. But you wouldn’t know that, since he would never explicitly say it. But you wouldn’t know that, since you’d long-since accepted your self-torture as perfectly and utterly a part of what came with knowing Kim Dokja for as long as you did. 

The rooftop was like all other rooftops. Similar. The same. Azurine fog was at your fingertips: just like that day all those years ago. Except this time, Kim Dokja was not in your sights, and you were left alone with wisps of smoke trailing from your lips and no other company save the glowing stick in your fingers. Just like it had been; before you met the boy with a heart as greedy and all-consuming as yours. Before the merger between two black holes occurred. Before he ran up to the rooftops with bruises on his face and placed new stars in the endless vacuum of your universe. 

There was no charge in your phone, but the song that played that day still rested heavy in your neurons as you sprawled out on the bench. Mindlessly, you summoned the lyre-turned-guitar: doleful chords germinated, flourished and withered away once more under distressed fingertips. It was a night between scenarios; another caesura in this ceaseless tragedy. Though those days were filled with an empty stomach and an endless struggle, they were your halcyon days. 

Just like that time almost twelve years back, it was a blue Monday once more. 

Just like that time almost twelve years back, you didn’t hear the heavy run of footsteps through the heavy burr of music. 

Just like that time almost twelve years back, Kim Dokja’s black hole heart pulsed with each discordant twang of chords—though this time the link was acutely clear to him. 

The boy who once tasted the mist and tilted his body into oblivion was no longer there: replaced by a man who’d faithfully stayed by him for more than a decade. Though you hadn’t changed, not at all; not when he could still see the rings you took off his bullies, gracing your fingers just as they had back then. A trophy, dedicated to his protection. When his plans involved his sacrifice, you were the first to reach him. Your face was the first he saw, tears brimming from your lash line. For despite how you’d grown into your looks, you wore your emotions clear on your face. Your heart had been taken from the cavity in your chest and replaced with a dense core that greedily always wanted; yet it had been sewn messily onto your sleeve rather than discarded. 

Kim Dokja suddenly remembered another interlude. A club, where the amorphous ebb and flow of bodies could not sweep him away from your side—since you kept him there, treasured his presence enough that you hooked your finger firmly into his belt loop and rooted him there. An anchor: you’ve always been the rock beneath his shaky feet, after all. He remembered that, and not the endless churn of music that made your face glow with happiness. 

(A black smear of gloss left on his cheek. His hands, carefully wiping eye pencil away yet not touching the remnants of your lips—not until it smudged away on its own, forgotten for all of time but this day.)

A sun of his own. The reader trod his slow orbit around you long before he could conceptualise the gravity that drew two masses towards each other. Newton’s theory of universal gravitation be damned; you were the only centre of the universe, the only body that ever existed to draw others towards your brilliant light. 

His eyes flickered over the smoke in your lips: the dim embers of a glow from the lines in your skin made it seem as though you were alight yourself. Instinctively, physically, he was compelled towards the patterns just like he had been all those years ago: your music, your stupid piercings and your stupid discussions about bands and the stupid way you listened attentively to his yapping about Ways of Survival. Stupid, because why did you do that? Why did you convince him to make a shrine for you in his heart? Stupid, because why is it only now that he can see what exactly lays atop the stone altar?

“Kim Dokja,” you spoke through your plumes, formal in the way he knew you spoke when you were upset and trying to keep it together. He swallowed, and he could feel the same pitter-patter of his pulse as he did all those years ago—heartbeat colliding loudly in his ear drums while he steps towards you, unsure. You didn’t let up with the strum of strings: electric in the drizzle of rain and wind and cold Seoul air. 

For once, he was the one looking down at your impassive face. He was the one brushing his fingers through your hair, he was the one whose hands made themselves comfortable on shoulders—for it’s always been you wrapped around him, you whose legs wedge on top of his domestically on his shitty couch in his shitty studio flat. 

“It’s Dokja-ya,” he corrected: tongue thick and leaden. It constricted his larynx and made his cadence oh so small at this moment. Tentative. Because he was your close friend and you his. He was the one who knows all your expressions—even the ones you deliberately tried to hide from everyone. He was the one who’s been with you the longest: always staring up at the muscle of your back while you act as his shield. He was the one who’s been blind. 

Your fingers halted against the strings and the instrument dissolved into the wind; the concert for two had reached its conclusion, just like it had all those months ago. For despite being packed full of people, the club only ever had two people in it for him. 

Lazily, those same hands that have bruised for him—but somehow had a touch that was far more painful than any torment that was physically inflicted on him—wrapped round his own that rested neatly on your shoulders. 

“Dokja-ya,” you answered, and the axis the world tilted on is finally righted. This man, Dokja thought—and his umbrous eyes traced down the warm lines of your face, stopping on your lips. Bittersweet. 

“Don’t leave me,” he all but begged—voice only a whisper. Don’t die on me, the black hole wanted to say instead; selfishly wishing for you to always be by his side so he doesn’t see you depart this world first. That would end him more than anything else. 

“I can’t leave you,” you murmured, and oh, the hand brushing his tear-stained cheek suddenly made more sense. “Dokja-ya, I should be telling you that.”

He pressed his face into your warm palm—scorching even with the boreal damp settling over his skin. There was something twisted within him that revels in your admission: that you, too, feared him abandoning you just as he feared you leaving him behind. 

“Idiot.” And he twined his fingers in yours, seeing the surprise on your face bloom—for he’s already established that you’re ever so easy to read. Idiot, because it’s ludicrous to even think that he’d ever willingly walk away from you like that. 

“You’re the idiot,” you whispered as your phantasmal hand ghosted from his cheek to his collar, yanking him so he fell onto the firm sprawl of your legs—in a way he’s never felt. So warm, he thought through the haze as he straddled your languid body—fit so right against you that there was none of the tension nor the anticipation that he might’ve felt. His hands splayed out onto your chest, feeling the steady beat of your heart, tracing the glowing lines he adored on your body. 

So warm, he thought as your hands gently cupped his face—for you’ve never been anything but soft with this stupid man perched on your lap. 

So warm, as your lips met his and he melted into your body. He could taste the acrid smoke on your tongue, but he could also taste the food you’d prepared earlier for him, and the traces of whiskey you’d scavenged. All traces of you; his insatiable heart could not help but want to merge into you. 

So warm, as your tongue melded against his and he could feel the seam of his mouth against yours grow ever more ragged and messy. His hands desperately curled into your shirt, and he could feel your palms pressing harshly against his waist and canting his torso into yours more—something which his avaricious heart eagerly swallowed. 

On a blue Monday just like this one, two boys met for the first time once more on a rooftop just like this one. 

Again. Like and like created a merger for the second time, or perhaps it was already the third. Or fourth. Or the thousand-eight-hundred-and-sixty-third time this has happened—over and over and over and over. 

Fate has a funny way of bringing people together, or maybe it’s just the intrinsic law of gravitation that binds two black holes in a binary system. 

Blue Monday. What a silly notion, when the man beneath Kim Dokja is as warm as the brilliant sun. 

✦ . 　⁺ 

Fellas is it gay to pine after your best friend for over ten years and have oddly homoerotic moments with them

✦ . 　⁺ 

EXTRAS

[The Demon-like Judge of Fire returns from her work and asks what she missed.]

[The Almighty Sun keeps his lips shut.]

[The Abyssal Flame Black Dragon stays silent.]

[The Prisoner of the Golden Headband, perhaps not fearing his imminent hair loss, opens his mouth.]

[The Demon-like Judge of Fire promptly goes catatonic and explodes.]

[billys-pretty-babe]

dom billy cuddling sub anxious reader. fluff ending with smut to make reader feel better

if you don’t like this feel free to change it around. In the middle of the night reader starts crying feeling anxious, which wakes billy up. He snuggles up next to her all like ‘hey hey. whats wrong baby?’ Him just super protective, cuddling reader, wiping her tears away. Constantly touching her being all cuddly snuggle his head into her neck being all touchy like a teddy bear grinding his hard dick against her( trying to make her feel better cus THEYRE both horny animals)🥺❤️

Billy’s dominance is there even if he’s being soft. He is rational but his girlfriend is an anxious mess- constantly worried about everything, never feeling at peace and just depressed in general. Billy sighs and man handles reader ontop of his body so her back is against his chest. He gives advices becoming stern( because it’s the only way she can understand), and tells her that she needs to learn to become strong in life. Not be a weak mess, making up fake problems in her head, just comforting her but kinda like in a serious way because she needs to be told ‘harshly’ otherwise she doesn’t understand, all whilst touching her sensitive nipples hehe, making her squirm ‘b-billy no’ ‘shhh it’s okay I’ve got you. I’m always here for you’.

Subby reader whines and billy cooes her telling her everything will be okay. ‘Let me make you feel better’.And he rubs her puffy pussy, sleepily praising her for being such a good girl and they fall asleep cuddling❤️ THIS IS SUCH A MESS LMAO I CAN CHANGE IT IF U WANT BHEHEJD

i had to sit and think on this for a while to really think about how to go about this.

Good

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Fem!Reader

Summary: ^^^^^

Warnings: dom/sub dynamics (very light because i've never written dom!billy before), smut implications, smut

Word count : 1,170

The room was filled with soft pants, the two of you trying to catch your breath as you looked up at the ceiling. Billy laid beside you on his stomach, his left hand reaching out and pulling you close, coddling you, making sure he didn't hurt you in the throes of passion.

Billy was always soft on you, he had a very hard exterior but when the two of you were alone, he was the biggest softie, his blue eyes always soft. He ran his hand over your hair, giving your temple a kiss as he spoke softly to you, rubbing your stomach with his hand, doing his best to lull you to sleep as you cuddled further into his body, seeking the warmth that you had felt for a near hour, your body craving his body against yours.

Your eyes snapped open; your heart was heavy as your mind ran a million miles an hour. Your boyfriend was sleeping, his loud snores filled the room. Tears fell, and you did nothing to stop them. Maybe you weren't good tonight. How did you have your hands positioned on him? How deep did you scratch? Did you draw blood on him?

The thoughts wouldn't stop and didn't stop until Billy's warm hand gently tightened on your hip as the bed shifted a little as he moved closer to you, resting his head beside yours on your pillow. "What's wrong, baby?" he asked, his voice gravelly from sleep. You shook your head, looking ahead at the sheer white curtains, looking at the moon and how it's light shone into the small bedroom.

His hand left your hip to wipe your tears, his thumb softly stroking your cheek as his index finger did all of the work. "Baby," he said again, "what's wrong? You have to tell me so I can make it better." His hips shifted behind you and your body reacted, your butt moving back to press directly against him, and he groaned into the pillow.

"Uh uh," he gently scolded, "tell me first and then, we'll go for a second round." You sighed, beginning to tell him your feelings, how you felt like you did the wrong things tonight. His hands moved down to your chest, wrapping his arms around you to cuddle you. "Look, listen to me, alright?" You nodded, still pushing your hips back, trying to get just a little friction to satiate that deep need for him.

"Your brain," he brought an index finger up and gently tapped your forehead, "makes up things to make you feel bad, alright? You did nothing wrong; you've never done anything wrong when we have sex. You start freaking out at the littlest things and baby, no one expects you to be perfect and make no mistakes. I'm the biggest fuck up in the world, but I don't dwell on my mistakes unless they have something to do with you. You're always so skittish anywhere we go, you don't talk to people, and you play the safest option so that no one looks at you. I love you, I genuinely do, but baby, you've got to learn how to get out there. I'm not going to be here to protect you forever."

You gulped; you knew he was right about everything. You hated speaking up for yourself, Billy always did that for you. You hated attention, except when it came from your boyfriend, you loved it then. "I'm sorry," you said softly. "What are you apologizing for," he asked, squeezing you a little tighter, releasing your body with one of his arms as his thumb traced around your breast, his lips now on your shoulder as he spoke, giving you brief tiny kisses when it was your turn to speak.

You shrugged, "I don't know." He laughed softly, kissing where your arm met your shoulder. "There's nothing to apologize for. Sometimes you just get worked up for nothing, just try and calm yourself down and think if it's worth it, alright?" You nodded. "I love you," he said, kissing the back of your neck, letting his lips linger. "I love you too." He smiled against your skin.

His left hand snaked down your stomach, caressing right below your belly button. "Is it okay if I go further?" You nodded and opened your legs just enough for his hand to find purchase between your thighs. You whimpered at his cold fingers made contact with your clit. He tsked softly in your ear, "So wet when you were crying." You laughed, a soft sniffled escaping as well. "You were grinding on me, couldn't help getting wet." He laughed, kissing the shell of your ear.

His finger rubbed circled on the top of your clit as you squirmed in his hold, and he tightened his hand on you a little. "Stop moving, tell me what you need." Your left leg wound up between his legs, spreading your legs just a little more. "Need your fingers." He laughed, "You have them." He knew exactly what you needed, but he wanted to hear it.

"Inside, need them inside." He nodded, "Good girl." One finger, then two fingers were inside you, immediately curling up, right against that sweet spot. A high-pitched moan escaped your mouth, back arching just a little, your cheat moving quickly. Billy knew what he was doing when it came to your body, he knew how to dram out orgasm after orgasm with the right spots and he knew exactly where they were located.

"Easy, just let it happen. I can feel you clenching around my fingers. I got you, let go for me." You whined, head falling back at his words. He was the king of dirty talk and talking you through an orgasm, which you were thankful for in moments like these, late night fingering sessions, late night hand jobs or blowjobs.

His right hand rubbed your stomach as your body succumbed to the pleasure as he continued talking you through your orgasm. You came down from your high and he kissed you. "Atta girl, good job." He eased his fingers out of you considering how sensitive you were, having received two orgasms from his earlier in the night, and a third just now.

"Thank you," you said as you caught your breath a little, getting your heart to slow down. He laughed, "For what?" You shrugged, "The talk, the orgasm, all of it." He laughed, kissing the back of your head once again, "You're welcome." He wiped his sticky fingers on the inside of your thigh and cuddled with you once more. "You don't want anything?" He shook his head, his eyes already fluttering shut. "Sleep is what I want, we'll fuck again before breakfast, if you're up to it."

You smiled, putting your hand over his, "Okay." He smiled, pulling the blanket a little higher over the two of you, his thumb rubbing your stomach, making you fall back asleep, your body awaiting the pleasure that it would receive at the crack of dawn.

[queenofallimagines]

Hiya, I just read your Lucifer with a devotee ask and I was wondering if you could do the same with Leviathan or Diavolo from Obey Me?

Absolutely beloved! I am not sure how TF I didn’t see this?? (Writing really long Fics is actually so much work)

Leviathan:

- shook

- Literally at a loss

-Thinks you’re joking

- He will notice you, but def won’t notice that YOU are his Henry

- Probably will be like “you’re def not as good at them”

- And gushes about his Henry, and you’re just like 🤨📸

- All the brothers are surprised you follow him and look out for him so easily

- During the TSL arc the only time you’ve ever feared him was then

- after that you flat out don’t talk to him

- Avoid him

- He feels bad but not really bc “why would he feel bad about hurting a normie’s feelings”

- Your pact mark glows then too because I think if you were his devotee he would give you a pact easily after working with you for a while

- Levi was too upset to notice the searing pain in his chest when he attacked you

- Or how cold he felt right after

- Mammon nursing your sprained wrist, and you’re barely listening to him

- Well end up making you spill the beans, and he is FLOORED that you have a pact w Levi bc uh hello?? He’s your FIRST MAN??

- He will keep this a secret but the way more protective of you

- The house is low-key really awkward because of y'all too

- mammon giving Levi the stink eye

- Levi upset he’s feeling so many hurt feelings because he still don’t get y'all two are connected

- Gets REALLY depressed when his most beloved Henry isn’t picking up

- Like he can’t even feel your presence??

- Will barge into your room back in the human realm and move all the shit in your alter around wondering WTF is going on

- Maybe you’re at work or something, weird he didn’t know but okay

- Tries three more times, and you’re not there

- Worried something happened to you

- Gets super upset and Lucifer is like bro wtf is you sniffling for??

- dinner is wild bc when is the HOL not like a soap opera 😭

- Asmo is like the human you made a pact with??

- Asking Lucifer to check and see if your dead because he can only mildly feel your presence, but you’re not talking to him

- Mammon is uncharacteristically quiet

- He’s side eyeing the light blue mark glowing under the table (I HC that his would be in a place that’s always covered like right below your hipbone or like lower back and not more visible the other brothers marks)

- And then looking at you like “are you good?”

- Levi still babbling on about his Henry, and he’s upset they aren’t here

- Mammon is your protector, and he’s gonna stand on business about you EVERY time

- Also he can’t help not saying some slick shit 💀

- “Maybe if ya didn’t try to kill them your ‘precious’ Henry would want to talk to you

- Levi windows blue screen resetting Rn

- Satan messy bitch number 2 just hums and is like “I had my suspicions, but I wasn’t completely sure you were one of his followers”

- Asmo is gushing about how cute this is

- And ofc Levi is too awkward and anxious to even look you in the eye

- Dinner is still awkward but goes by smoother than before

- You go to your room to mind your business as you do, and you hear this timid ass knock on the door

- Like nobody in this house knocks that MF soft Levi IK it’s you

- Shuffles into your room w his head down and starts fumbling over his worlds

-“ you could have told me it was you…”

- “Didn’t think I had to. I never thought you would hurt me….”

- Shaking in his boots as he rambles out an apology and starts spiraling honestly

- You can barely hear him talking low as hell

- “Gah! And then I was bragging to you about YOU… How embarrassing!”

- You let him know you forgive him by teasing him

- “…….so….your so-called Henry was your most favorite?”

- He’s literally fighting for his life MC, please spare him

- Will act like hot shit lmao

- Monopolizing all your time too, like the other 6 bothers are exhausted

- Can’t even work towards getting belphie out of the attic because he’s always taking up your time

- “Sorry I’m borrowing them because we’re going top secret ritual stuff”

- “You are literally just going to play the new Ruri-Chan game”

- “OKAY AND???”

- Asmo sitting back and watching the chaos bc he knows y'all getting down and nasty on the regular

- “Someone go tell them to relax I can hear thumping because they’ve been gaming all morning”

- And he’s blowing your back out and realigning your chakras

- Like you can only cover up the scratch marks and hickeys with his clothes for so long

[licollisa]

i’d love to hear your take on sans’ personality!

i was going through your whole blog (as you do) and saw ur post on how sans tends to be mischaracterized, but fanon takes are also very normal and generally just fine, and i agree - i feel like some amount of personal spin from the author is always expected (and keeps things fresh and fun to a degree), but i also feel as if sans is a somewhat tough character to actually pin down when you’re writing him, so i’ve similarly had to drop some fic when they stray too widely from my non-negotiable sans traits lol. (like Being Calm and unruffled. bc while some of that is depression, a large part of it is Just The Way He’s Built lmao.)

Oh for sure, I also have my own set of Sans mischaracterization pet peeves in fics (though I'd often look the other way if the fic is well-written because beggars can't be choosers, no writer owes anyone a perfect Sans voice, fanfics are for fun, etc etc. Hell one of my favorite fics of all time portrayed Sans as an asshole and I'm not complaining because good god the writing is just THAT delicious and I still can't believe I'm reading it for free).

E.g Sans calling another adult (often times the MC) with 'kid'. Or like I've mentioned on another post, if he's quick to anger or aggressive enough to attack at the slightest provocation. Sometimes it's not a case of mischaracterization at all, just something I personally can't read without feeling like a wet kitten (the next time I read an overused skeleton related pun I will escape my own and DIE).

I often theorize why this is a Thing. I yearned to understand why I'm subjected to read yet another skele-ton, tibia, humerus, funny bone pun. Maybe since Undertale was popular with a big ass fanbase, and Sans is like our mascot, so when you combine this with a majority of the fandom being in the younger side -- youths full of time and creativity and energy though lacked the writing experience -- what's left of our poor skeleton is a pile of flanderized bones. Which is often the case when you're young and you just started writing because damn that blue skeleton is too romance able to deny (want write... But HOW write???).

You thought of some of his traits you often see (ketchup, touch Papyrus and die, blue glowing eye, epic bones & blaster attacks, puns, depression, have I mentioned the touch Papyrus and die? Puns again, threats, the bad time catchphrase, so on so forth) and you use these as a guiding bible to writing Sans the Skeleton. Boom, Sans x Reader 200k enemies to lovers.

,,,Bottom line is, I'm kind of sure the tendency to mischaracter him stems from Undertale's popularity and the younger part of the fandom. That, or after all these years, people had simply grown to love and accept Fanon Sans in all his slightly unlikeable behavior glory (heartwarming). So the inaccurate potrayal is now, like, on purpose -- on top of fanon him being easier to pin down because the canon guy are too tricky to pin down, like you said.

From what I've seen though, the canon Sans starts to get the love he deserves again! All is good. Now I can read a Sans x Reader 200k enemies to lovers, but with the actual dude this time. Awesome.

Ight, that said. I legit also think people should write him in the way that makes them the happiest. Sans is fictional but your happiness isn't. Even if your Sans will finally be the one to prompt me to escape my own skeleton. Or your Sans is RABID and deserves JAILTIME and GROWLS and BARA. Go wild, be free, and more importantly, have fun! <3

[lizpaige]

🌧️

hi anon! thanks for asking! 💕

🌧️ Share something angsty from your WIP.

You want angst? How about some major character death (MCD) lmao Since you didn't specify which WIP and i have so many, I have a PS I Love You (movie) AU with MCD (Ronan). Here's the beginning of that. (tw: cancer, seizures, depression, loss, etc.)

Adam woke to the sound of his phone vibrating off the bedside table and smacking face down on the hardwood. He wasn’t sure how long he had been asleep, but his body ached when he rolled over and jammed a pillow on top of his head. The pressure felt great against his throbbing temple. The familiar wave of nauseous grief bubbled up as it always did when he slowly came into consciousness in the morning. He wasn’t sure if he could cry anymore, but the tears always came, choking off any possibility of a good day. His days were consumed by the thick cloud of misery, his mind was fixated on the before, on the what could have been, on the unfairness of losing his husband, Ronan Lynch, at only 32. 

Some mornings he considered Ronan’s belief in God, wondering if maybe he could believe it, too, if it would only give him an answer to the ever-present why. How cruel was the universe to only give Adam fifteen years with Ronan and how much time had Adam wasted going to college and leaving Ronan behind for four long years. He should have gone to community college, he shouldn’t have even gone to college, just stayed in Ronan’s childhood home with him enjoying the time they had together. 

There were moments where he was so angry. Angry at Ronan for lying about his terminal cancer diagnosis for months before it was too late, not giving Adam the time to do something about it. What could he have done? He wasn’t sure, but he would have wanted to know. Maybe things would have been different. Ronan’s ridiculous excuse of not wanting to spend the rest of his life worrying everyone around him, not wanting everyone to see every moment with him as their last. Adam was also angry at himself for not noticing that something was wrong. Not seeing the signs that something was off about Ronan, that Ronan ‘I don’t lie’ Lynch was lying about something. They knew each other for 15 years and yet Adam was still completely in the dark. 

He found out when Ronan had his first seizure. He just collapsed one day in the hallway on his way to his studio. Adam called an ambulance, followed him to the hospital, and in the end it was the ER doctor who let it slip that Ronan had a brain tumor. And Ronan hadn’t seemed surprised by this news. 

The prognosis wasn’t good. Chemo wasn’t even an option, it was too far gone, it had spread already. Adam cashed in all of his PTO at work and then some, spending the next few weeks traveling with Ronan because that’s what he wanted to do. They visited their friends Blue and Gansey, stayed with Ronan’s brothers, Declan and Matthew, and even went on a few camping trips just because Ronan wanted to. 

In the end, his condition worsened over the next few months and he passed within the year. 

Chainsaw, the main coon they picked up as a stray, hopped up on the bed next to Adam. She was completely unimpressed with Adam’s lack of motivation, often swatting at him in annoyance when she kept waiting too long for her mealtimes. She was not unaffected by Ronan’s death; she would often be found pawing at the door to his art studio, but Adam couldn’t bring himself to open it. She opted to burrow in his clothes in the closet or lounge in his favorite armchair in the living room. 

This morning, when his phone stopped pulsing against the floorboards, it immediately started up again. Chainsaw made her way up toward Adam’s head, sitting on the pillow next to him. When he cracked an eye open at her, she meowed loudly. Judging by how much sun was in the room, it was nearing mid-day. 

[cowboylikeyouu]

For the WIP game, No Other shade of blue but you, please!

oh my, i completely forgot the wip game ahahah sorry for the wait, here you go:

i started working on this THREE YEARS AGO???? it's not even THAT long, but i always forget it exists for like 6 months before writing another 1000 words and then forgetting it again.

the premise is basically: steve & tony had a Thing™ during that period when pepper & tony had broken up, but then civil war happened and yeah. pepper & tony get back together, get married, have morgan, endgame happens as usual BUT: instead of tony, pepper dies. which is. . . cruel, i know, but hey, she was canonically part of the final battle so in theory she could've been the one to get the stones & do the snap lol. anyways, then it's just a lot of depressed tony taking care of morgan and refusing to accept help, until he caves in and calls up steve one day and yeah, then they have their very very slow getting back together arc, while they're raising morgan. there're gonna be a lot of shenanigans with other characters bc tony's slowly letting other people back in his life, so it's actually just gonna be a shit ton of avengers family feels. i also have a fully planned out winterhawk spin-off to this fic lol. idk if i'll ever finish writing it tho, i have about 15k and most of it was originally written in german. i DID translate it and i wrote some of the later stuff in english, but i'm still SUPER unhappy with it. i love my german writing SO MUCH, but it tends to lose its flow when i translate it :/

here's a small excerpt, the grammar might suck as well, my english skills were even poorer back then than they are now lmao

Steve ignored his words and pulled out a burner phone instead, placing it on the counter next to Tony. Only one number was registered in it. Tony paused momentarily and regarded the phone with an unreadable look before swallowing hard and turning back to his plate.  "Haven't we been through this already, Cap?" He said quietly as if his voice would fail him if he spoke louder.  The movements of his hand holding the sponge became increasingly erratic, and Steve couldn't stand it anymore. Without thinking much, he put one hand on Tony's arm in an attempt to soothe him and stop his movements before using his other hand to carefully pull the plate from his clenched fingers and place it on the towel next to the sink. This time, Tony didn't even try to free himself from Steve's grip. "Maybe you're gonna use it this time," Steve responded and pushed the phone a little closer to Tony with his free hand.  Tony looked up from the phone to meet Steve's eyes, a sad smile on his lips. "Well, I'm sorry, but I don't think you and I were on such good terms the first time," he said, even more quiet than earlier.  Brown eyes that stirred so much more in Steve than he would ever admit stared into his, and for a moment, it felt like 2016 all over again. Like the time when Pepper and Tony had broken up due to personal reasons, the time when Steve had spent his days in Tony's building and his nights in Tony's bed, wasting time on kisses and sex and late-night promises. Like that brief, dreamlike period when everything had been okay for a few months. The calm before the storm that the Sokovia accords brought to their lives and their relationship. Then Tony looked away, and the moment shattered.  Steve found himself back in the present, where Tony and Pepper were no longer together because Pepper was simply no longer there, where the peaceful intimacy existed only in memory, and where the events in Leipzig and Siberia and the months without contact that followed continued to stand between them like an impassable wall. Steve didn't regret siding with Bucky at the time. He didn't regret wanting to protect his best friend, who had returned after seventy years, he’d do it again without thinking twice. But he regretted the naturalness with which he had thrown away Tony and all they had in the months before. He regretted more than anything not giving a rational thought to find a compromise that would allow him to keep them both in his life.

send me more asks about my wips if u want !!

[wilsons-striped-ties]

november tc challenge (days 1-30 one shot)

by @faszaakisshobbi

1. what does your tc teach & do they teach you?

history and yeah, from year three to four

2. if you could pick their outfit for the day what would it be?

okay he always wears the same things but i have an attachment to his dark blue dress shirt and dark grey pants sooooo

3. what’s their personality like? ( eg. are they loud or quiet? enthusiastic or fairly reserved? )

he's quiet but able to socialize, and hes really thoughtful and sweet and really enthusiastic in a gentle way when hes passionate

4. are they married? got any kids?

married with three kids :'

5. what’s your favourite memory with them?

im always torn between most of our memories together but i think when i gave him his cupcakes, or maybe during teachers day when we were walking together down to the canteen, we were talking about a rather depressing topic of my college LMAO but it was really nice talking to him in a softer situation, seeing the gentleness in his eyes, it was really comforting talking to him again

6. what was your first impression of them?

that he was scary looking LMAO

7. what’s your favourite thing about them (physically or personality wise)

physically, his dimples or his eyes. personality, his thoughtfulness or his memory, hes always remembering things about me and its really nice because almost no one does that

8. do you have a song that you associate with them? if so, what is it?

maybe secret love song by little mix or dandelions by ruth b, but fundamentally hes super lana coded but i do have a really complicated attachment to him and yellow by coldplay so there's that

9. have you ever had an argument with them? if so, what about?

phew nope

10. are you attracted to them romantically? or platonically?

i think a mix between platonic and romantic, its like a silly crush but still i am deeply attached to him emotionally

11. if they kissed you (and it wasn’t illegal) what would you do?

i would just short circuit

12. do you think they know about your crush?

i dont know, but ive made my favoritism towards him very obvious HAHHA

13. what would be your ideal date with them?

walking around with him and just talking about anything and everything, holding hands and maybe going to a museum with him too

14. do you have any inside jokes? if you feel comfortable sharing, what are they?

nope unfortunately :' but now we do talk about the day i gave him passion fruit cupcakes for his birthday HAHAHA

15. how often do you see them?

almost every time i go back to my high school

16. have you ever cried over your tc? if so, why?

thankfully not with him

17. what did they do their degree in? is it the subject they teach now?

I HAVE NO IDEA but i am dying to know what his degree is

18. do they do any sport? if so, what?

he does play soccer quite well and he runs too, but im not sure how often, he is a huge soccer fan though. he did say he'd drop by to the table tennis club and play with me one day if he's free, but that was last year during my table tennis finals competition so i doubt he remembers but oh wellsss :'

19. what do you think they do in their spare time?

i think he would spend time with his family, he looks like he reads too

20. do you have any photos with them? if so, how did you get them?

YASS i have like at least six and i just ask him for them HAHHA he always gives in to me :'

21. do you plan on staying in contact after you leave?

yess we are still staying in contact-ish? im still going back to my high school and seeing him around and talking to him!

22. what’s your favourite scenario you’ve made up in your head about them?

us just talking about life and holding hands, i dont know why but im really obsessed with holding his hand, it just seems so comforting to me???

23. have you ever seen them outside of school?

NO BUT I WANT TO

24. does anyone else know about your crush? who?

like my sister teases me about it, my junior is done with my bs and that's probably about it? almost everyone knows i favour him but they dont know my obsession i guess

25. what animal do they remind you of?

i used to think a tiger but then i decided agaisnt it and im thinking a mix between a wolf and a fox

26. do you know when their birthday is? would you get them a gift?

YESSS i baked passion fruit cupcakes for him!!

27. how did you realise you were in love with them? was it love at first sight? or gradual?

i think ive always been in love with him, my heart knew but my brain took a regretfully long time to catch up, mistaking it for just curiosity :'

28. do they drink / smoke that you know of?

he probably drinks, probably doesnt smoke but it would be hot if he did both AHAHHAH but oh wells

29. if you could reenact a movie scene with them (from any movie!) what would it be? which character would you be and which would they be?

my brain just popped the proposal into my head, the part where andrew says "marry me, because i'd like to date you" and as a kid it was the most romantic thing ive ever seen or heard but i dont know, i'd love to do a ballroom dancing scene with him, or maybe something from lalaland, he feels like a lalaland coded person I DONT KNOW

30. what’s the weirdest dream you’ve ever had about them?

i have no idea actually, i dont often dream of him

[mecchantheotaku]

so i said i might explain my voices designs and i decided now that i'm calmed down a bit that i'm gonna do that now

i know a lot of you won't be interested so i'm putting it under a cut

for hero, i designed him after the "beginner hero in a JRPG" staple. i've seen a lot of people designing him after a more experienced hero, but if you've seen his personality he does not act like anyone with experience. he's very naive. so i designed him more after a beginner. also fun fact: under that shirt he's actually decently ripped, but you can't tell unless he takes it off.

for contrarian, i decided to design him with the idea of "asymmetry" in mind. and there's no cheated angles whenever i draw him, his bangs are always drawn with the longer one on that side of his face no matter which way he's facing. the very first thing i came up with was him having heterochromia though, that was a given.

for cheated, i decided to design him with a "rough" feeling, more towards him than anything. in my hc he has notoriously bad luck, hence the tiny scars on his arms. also, his t-shirt is blocked in the image, but it says "fuck off" and he actually has several t-shirts all with different rude slogans on them.

with smitten, the design element was pretty obvious. he's the dashing prince charming to the damsel's dainty princess. he also has more detailed eyes than the others to add to the "anime" feel of that route. i was debating giving him pink elements to contrast the blue of his outfit (and because he is the fruitiest straight guy ever) but nothing i thought of looked right so i scrapped that idea.

with paranoid it's hard to really explain what i was going for, but a smart outfit that was clearly put on in a rush just made sense for him. i absolutely knew he had to be both really tall and really skinny though.

with skeptic the vibe i was going for was "noir detective" but without the hat. he's also the only voice to wear glasses because of the symbolism that comes from giving a character glasses: a tool that literally helps you see clearly.

for hunted, he absolutely had to be the smallest of the voices. i gave him huge eyes both to contrast this and because it suited his reactive personality, but now that i look at it i realise they look kind of childish on him (maybe the other voices tease him for it or something lmao). for the outfit i was going for a mix of practicality and just whatever looked right for him. plus he's barefoot because in my hc he dislikes shoes.

now come on, stubborn HAD to be big and buff. it's kind of a rule in this fandom lmao. for his clothes i went simple. the sort of clothes you'd wear at the gym. i debated giving him scars but decided against it because cheated already had that going for him. maybe he has one huge scar across his chest that's only seen if he takes his shirt off.

broken's design is honestly the one i like the least because i can never get it right. i wanted him to look like a depressed basement dweller who doesn't even bother to look after himself, but it's surprisingly hard to draw. i even wanted to give him a proper beard but i don't know how to draw them, so i just gave him a five-o-clock shadow. i am proud of what i did with his eyes though.

for opportunist i made him fashionable and quirky-looking, inspired by the hosts at host clubs in japan (which are infamous for exploiting regulars, which suits him to a tee). i also gave him a mainly purple colour scheme because purple is often seen as a powerful but devious colour. also fun fact: he very rarely stops smiling in my hc, and when he does stop smiling you know shit's gotten real.

and for cold, i went a bit literal with his name and gave him a big coat and boots for all occasions. originally his hair was going to be white but i didn't like how it looked so i made it light brown instead. his eyes were the first thing i thought of when designing him. i like designing more robotic characters with the highlights in the middle of their eyes, and that was perfect for him.

[eye-of-trigun]

Stampede S2 Predictions

posting these now before I get influenced by anyone else's predictions lmao

many spoilers for Trigun Stampede and Trigun Maximum ahead!

Vash has fully lost his memory of everything that happened immediately before and after JuLai

it's possible he's forgotten Meryl and Wolfwood and Roberto as well

He'll gradually gain memories back as Wolfwood and Meryl show up and trigger something in his brain

Wolfwood will find Vash (as Eriks) and be like "hey man" and Vash will be like "?????" until he sees the way Wolfwood handles the Punisher

when Meryl finds Vash he'll remember her and Roberto when she shows him the photo of the 4 of them that's seen when's she visiting JuLai. or he'll remember her just by the way she says "Vash"

Milly is going to be so plucky and will help pull Meryl out of her depression, or at least ground her whenever Meryl starts feeling like she wants revenge for Roberto

at some point, Meryl will point her derringer at Elendira and possibly even shoot it

the underside of Vash's hair will be black and we'll get more lore on decaying plants

somehow Doctor Conrad survived JuLai (maybe with Elendira's help?) and helps Legato to revive Knives

Meryl is gonna be very standoffish when she sees Wolfwood again

Wolfwood will start saying he's a priest rather than an undertaker (credit to my friend for this one!)

Meryl: "ugh you're here, Undertaker?" Wolfwood: "excuse you, I'm a priest now!"

Wolfwood has started smoking the same brand of cigarettes as Roberto and Meryl notices and then feels warmer toward Wolfwood

Wolfwood is looking for Vash because he's been contracted to look for him again under threat of the destruction of the orphanage again

but this time, Wolfwood already knows Vash and knows what Vash is capable of and he's hoping that Vash can stop Knives and the Eye of Michael for good this time

in her search for any clues of what happened to Vash, Meryl looks into Wolfwood's past and the eye of Michael between her reporting assignments

as a result, Meryl is extremely distrustful of Wolfwood when they meet again

I think it's a given that we'll see the rest of the gung-ho guns: Dominique, Rai-Dei, Midvalley, Leonof, Midvalley, Hoppered, and Razlo

Legato will finally confront Vash himself and may even establish the killing game with the gung-ho guns

it's possible that E.G. the Mine will make another appearance since he's seen being taken back with the plants to HQ in episode 3

Vash and Wolfwood will fight as a team again and again. Vash's trust in Wolfwood will be tested but he'll always believe in Wolfwood

Brad will repair Vash's arm again after the Eriks arc... but Vash's journey to visit Brad and Luida will bring trouble to them again... possibly resulting in Brad and/or Luida dying

Knives' entire body needs to re-constituted -- as it was after July in the manga. but since we're already diving into the timeskip, Knives won't get his body back until Vash is captured (like in Trimax vol 8) and at that time, Vash's memories of JuLai will fully come rushing back to him (like in Trimax vol 5).

Elendira will have grown to be adult size and will be way more powerful than before

Wolfwood and Livio and Razlo fight will still result in [redacted] and I will sob my heart out

I think Chapel will appear in some capacity! Someone probably had to have trained Wolfwood and Livio

Most characters will get updated outfits for the timeskip

Midvalley and Knives killer music duet??? (I just think it'd be fun)

Knives or Elendira gravely injures Legato for not following Knives' wishes

a non-zero number of episodes will start with radio updates on the arrival of the Earth ships

Legato's backstory will include lore about his blue hair

Knives will survive the final confrontation with Vash

Vash won't say his signature "love & peace" catchphrase until after the dust from the final battle has settled

[grimgrinninggrimoreghosts]

Honestly i don’t have followers so im just going to awnser

Rose Quarts: Honestly this question kind of pisses me off because i really like and want all of the options and i try to give others all of the options. Maybe it comes from not feeling loved and craving it but give me EVERYTHING

Onyx: The gods i worship, My boyfriend

Diamond: @soggy-beast , Buzzy and Wyv

Smokey Quarts: Vampire Probably🤷‍♂️

Malachite: My hair has legit been almost every color natural and not. Right now I’m digging my natural hair (red brown, i like to dye it redder) but it was blue for a looooong time

Tigers Eye: Instant Gratification, Hubris, Constant Stimulation and Addiction

Moonstone: I’m a hellenistic pagan, a witch and a psychopomp. I work heavily with the dead, im a safe place and home for alot of ghosts! I give them refuge, help get messages across, help them pass and take care of them.

Opal: honestly it sounds like religious psychosis to me; its important to be able to tell whats real and whats not✨

Selenite: idk smash mouth? Music kind of sucked in the 90s in my opinion. I was a small child so i mostly listened to my parents/older brothers stuff and when i did get to pick i mostly wanted disney or cartoon music and didn’t really have a good taste in music. I prefer music now honestly

Clear Quarts: Why not both?✨🤙 in all seriousness though growing up i thought i was a cat person; had nothing against dogs i just had never really formed a strong connection with one. And then my puppy Crowley came and i honestly fell in love with dogs✨💕 Dream pet would probably be an octopus. It would never happen. I don’t think it would lead a happy fulfilling life in a cage being such an intelligent animal. Don’t even know if it’s legal. Would probably cost A lot. Tons of reasons its a bad idea BUT IT WOULD BE SO COOL

Amethyst: So in high school i found out the man who i grew up thinking was my father legit wasn’t and went off looking for bio dad. He is super cool! I love him and his wife/my stepmom ( i call her mama) and their dog!✨ but i bring this up because i found out i am greek! So I’ve been trying to connect with my heritage!✨🏛️ i have been trying to learn greek; I’ve been learning about the mythology and history and culture! And honestly being a Hellenistic Pagan is a way for me to further connect with that side of me! I love it! Its super cool having already had a interest in all of that and then realizing half of you is a part of that. He is the best dad i could have ever hoped for as well

Citrine: i don’t always come off the best, i struggle to interact and bond with others. But to the friends that stick around; your amazing and your stuck with me lmao. I always mean well and give things my all!✨💀

Obsidian depends on my mood/state of mind, if im manic EVERYTHINGS AMAZING THE WORLD IS BEAUTIFUL EVERYTHINGS THE BESSST!!!!✨✨✨✨ when my depression/anxiety/panic or anger disorders kick in its like OH GOD I AM A TERRIBLE PERSON EVERYTHING IS AWFUL IM GONNA FAIL IM GONNA DIE BLAHBLAHBLAH

So yeah! Both honestly.

Cherry Jasper: honestly passionate people? Like tell me what your passionate about!✨ hyperfixate! Gush! Spill your guts!✨✨ even if i have no interest in the thing, dont understand anything about it i love that energy and gusto.

Agate: blueberry cheesecake? And slushy!✨✨✨✨

⋆｡ﾟcrystal ask game ﾟ｡⋆

⋆☁︎  get your followers to send a crystal name to ask a question  ☾ ﾟ⋆

Rose quartz- What’s your love language?

Onyx- What makes you feel safe and protected?

Diamond- Name three mutuals/friends who you appreciate. 

Smokey quartz- If you were a mythical creature, what would you be?

Malachite- If you could have any colour hair, what would you pick?

Tiger’s eye- Why do you think people like social media so much?

Moonstone- Would you describe yourself as a spiritual person? Do you follow any religions or particular practices?

Opal- Do you believe in reality shifting? If so, have you tried it?

Selenite- Share a music artist that you love from the 90s. 

Clear quartz- Are you a cat or a dog person? Dream pets?

Amethyst- Ramble about something that you’re passionate about. Tell us why you love it, and what it means to you.

Citrine- What do you wish more people knew about you?

Obsidian- Are you an optimist or a pessimist? 

Cherry jasper- What’s a topic that you find interesting yet know nothing about?

Agate- If you could order any food to your home right now, free of charge, what would you pick out?

Turquoise- Free space! Ask me whatever you like.

⋆☁︎  my DMs are open for custom ask game requests- just pick a theme e.g. astrology or flowers, and I’ll make one for you ☾ ﾟ⋆

[augustghosts]

Just a little blurb I wrote while listening to antichrist by the 1975 lmao. Eddie survives and reminisces on his new mindset.

This is kinda boring I think? but I'm just trying to get better at posting regularly because I love writing, and I have sooo much in my docs that I'm too anxious to post after 1988 flopped lmao. So I'm starting again with little blurbs like this, this is only 800 words. This is kind of sad though and hints at depression. So if that's not your thing, that's totally fine - keep scrolling <3 (to my masterlist perhaps?)

“Like ghosts?” She asks him softly. Eyes focused on the way his hands fumbled with the lighter. Sat in the back of his van - doors open, sundown. Oranges and blues. And big, dark browns, not looking into hers anymore. Watching the sky. 

“Yeah, kind of.” He mumbles, he sounds sad. Sometimes he feels like something is haunting him. and it seems to be specifically here. Hawkins. His own kind of fucked up metaphor. He liked metaphors. Sitting here, the lake. Being surrounded by water - isolation. His own mind, perhaps. Sometimes he still sees the blood on his hands. She knows he’s been through a lot, so she listens. She always listens. He loves that about her. When they make eye contact, he laughs dryly. “Sorry.” He mumbles around the cigarette between his lips.

“It’s okay.” She smiles, she wants to take his hand. “I like ghost stories.” She jokes, she knew he wasn’t really talking about ghosts. He also knew that she knew that. He liked that she was going along with him. 

When he closes his eyes, blood-covered hands. Sometimes he blamed himself for the pain and misery in his life - perhaps for the pain and misery in Hawkins, as of late. Could he have done more? He thinks back to March, thinks back to when his hands were dirty and covered in blood. Did that mean he was to blame? Everyone told him he wasn’t. The ghost he sees in his dreams - that follows him home. Himself - the past. 

Eventually, as he keeps talking - she does take his hand. His rough skin, rings - brushing soft and bare. His eyes flicker to their hands for a moment. He knows that nobody can know the answers he wants.  He knows that she tries her best to understand. To listen to what he  is going through. But she doesn’t share it. She can’t relate, no matter how much she tries. Her comfort helps. But sometimes it leaves him feeling more isolated. Trapped - haunted by the ghosts of his thoughts - his former self. 

“Sometimes I feel like I'm just treading water.” He trusts her enough to open up like this, it makes her chest hurt. Love and pride. “I feel like I failed at so much. In such a short period of time.” He knows she likes to reassure him that he did nothing wrong. He’s heard it so many times, maybe he even believes it himself. He knows deep down, but he feels like that isn’t enough. He doesn’t feel connected to anyone.  She can’t relate to him. He knows she can’t help if he can’t speak. He feels stuck - tired of this hollowness. Eddie has always internalised his thoughts and feelings. A habit he developed young, a habit he continues to practise. A habit he hates. 

He also doesn’t understand the agony she sometimes feels. How she feels as she tries desperately to keep him. Sometimes she also feels like she is starting to fail, like she is starting to fail him. He falls apart and all she can do is listen and watch. His life had taken a capricious turn, and she wished she could have stopped it. She desperately wanted to protect him. Her old Eddie comes and goes, but this new Eddie. She wanted to protect him, needed to. He loves her, he loves the house they live in. The love he has for her and his family is so all consuming, he doesn’t have room for this sadness. But still, it remains. It was thought provoking for him, had it always been there? Did it just need something like this to crawl to the surface? Has this shadow always followed him? Watching and waiting? 

“You know I love you, right?” Her voice interrupts his thoughts. Her voice, the voice that always brings him back. He looks at her for the first time in a few minutes. She looks beautiful in the light. He looks down at their hands, still gripping each other. A lifeline. He knows, but sometimes it still shocks him. Love? Him? Has that ever been on his agenda? It was now. This person that sits in front of him, that listens to him and supports him and loves him. He says it back, he says it the same way he says it  a million times a day. Sometimes it feels like a million. She brings her hand up to the back of his neck, pulling his head down to press a kiss to his forehead - another to his cheek. He smiles, she loves it when he does. Rare now.

“I love you too, so much.” He whispers it into her skin. He tries to show her, the same way she shows him. Recently, he feels like that's all he can do - try. And he will.

[delopsia]

Hello and welcome to Del's Outer Range S1 E3 thoughts and wonderings!

The opening recap to this episode was...interesting.

That close-up shot of the ice cream always sends me into a tizzy. I think it's mashed potatoes every time I lay eyes on it.

It's never mashed potatoes.

I love the line of Amy saying, "You're not that old," Amy says, because Royal is technically over 100 years old. This show feels so different when you rewatch it because now we know what the fuck is going on.

Officer Joy threatening to break that man's arm and then actually doing it was my favorite scene. "Well I told you, didn't I??"

"Bats bats and moths. Echolocation. Ultrasonic sexual communication. Ch ch ch ch ch ch ch ch chooo."

Luke's eyes are so obscenely blue in this scene.

A woman and her rocks

Again with the buffalo. Autumn pulling that arrow out of its side has to mean something, but I wonder what stops her from pulling the other one out. It's not like the buffalo ran away, lmao.

How is she keeping those airpods charged

Interesting that the show actually tells us that Autumn has a prescription for Lamotrigine.

According to mayoclinic.org, Lamotrigine is used alone or together with other medicines to help control certain types of seizures (eg, partial seizures, tonic-clonic seizures, or Lennox-Gastaut syndrome) in the treatment of epilepsy. (...) It can also be used in the treatment of bipolar disorder (manic-depressive illness) in adults.

"Don't talk to her" Royal said. But here we are, with Perry talking to her.

"This is what I call a great place to have a beer in the middle of the day," "Hell yes to that 💅" This background actor is my second favorite character in this show.

Perry being married for a little over ten years is...interesting. In the odd event, Perry managed to go to college, meet Rebecca, and marry her all when he was 18, then that means he's at least 28 in the show. A little unrealistic so...maybe somewhere between 28 and 31.

The way this bus just dropped Amy off in the middle of nowhere

However, I do like that Billy drives an old vehicle, not a brand new one like his brothers do.

Him offering Amy some of his dip is the drug offering I was warned about in middle school.

Amy's sigh when he's singing 😭 she's so over this.

Again, this place is so fucking pretty.

Rhett's "y' alright?" just does something for me.

This scene always makes me have to take a breather. Royal cutting Rhett off and immediately shutting him down when he raises a question just...ergh. Sounds just like my own dad lmao. And the way Rhett just gives up on continuing his point when Royal tells him to go on :/

"If I hear you talking this way around him or your mother..." What? Nobody can question Royal's decisions?

"Can't hurt Perry's feelings, fragile as he is." To me (again, my interpretation), this reads a lot as: "We have to walk on egg shells around Perry because he'll fly into a fit of rage if we upset him."

We already saw how he killed Trevor for making a comment about his wife; I'd hate to see what the Abbotts have had to deal with, having Perry living at home.

Further proof that Perry gets special treatment, but meanwhile, Rhett's every opinion is steamrolled by his dad because he doesn't fly off the handle like his older brother does. Spot the favorite child.

Royal doesn't give a damn that Rhett's feeling uneasy about his decisions, nor does he seem to care that his wife is having trouble with her faith. You know, that thing she's been dedicated to her entire life?

NTA. Divorce. <3 Cecelia deserves so much better than what she gets from her husband.

Whose trailer is this on the left? It's not hooked up to one of the Abbott vehicles...is it something all the bull riders use?

Rhett's gruff, "yeah."

Ugh

Take me to the back of the shed and put me down before I do something rash.

Rhett's number is 44. I had to go back and look, but his number in Episode 1 was 137. Idk why I'm noting this.

Rhett having a DUI will forever bug me.

Just like his horrible lying bugs me.

The fact that the rodeo ring is probably the only place where Rhett feels important or special...ouch.

"My mom isn't cutting me any slack for dropping out of grad school 🙄" Maria says to the man who never had the opportunity to leave like she did. I wonder if she was living in a dorm and wasn't working when she was in school because she doesn't seem like she even wants to be in Wabang.

"Gotta be careful with those (in reference to Rhett's painkillers)" Felt like a threat for some reason.

The way he pushes his hat uppppp why isn't he real :(

Do you know what drives me absolutely mad? The fact that Maria leaves Rhett drunk on the sidewalk. I understand he's not her responsibility, but who willingly leaves their drunk friend on the street like that?

The fool is over here walking with his eyes closed and just tripped over a chair because he isn't all there, but you're leaving him by himself? No questions asked? Not an ounce of, "Are you sure you can get home okay?" Any regard for his wellbeing? No?

We know that Rhett has a DUI from last year, so if he didn't get arrested for pissing on a police cruiser, we can assume he would have tried to drive himself home.

If you really, really squint, you can see Rhett's signature

Hello and welcome to, is the incorrect eye color a mistake, or is it intentional?

His little walk of shame is so funny to me.

This poor guy just learned that he has a long lost Aunt and that his dad just stole evidence from the police, all in the span of about two minutes.

Did Royal just show him the stolen evidence as a "you tell anyone about this and you won't like what happens" sort of thing?

Throwing the evidence in the hole is gonna bite us in the ass. Oh my god, why couldn't you have buried it or thrown it in a trash can four towns over?

The crowwww, I always forget about him.

I love Frank's reponse to Joy's request for him to support her run for Sherrif with, "Well, what will you do about the mastodons?" Something tells me that Frank knows something is happening with the land in Wabang.

I wonder if this mountain Frank's talking about has the same mineral in it that is in the hole. Thus opening a portal in the cave, and allowing one of his workers to see a prehistoric mastodon.

We know Royal was lying when he said he didn't remember anything before the age of nine. Him hearing Autumn say the same thing must really make his hair stand on end, lmao.

If Autumn's story about getting into an accident and losing her memory is true, then does that imply something's going to happen to Amy soon?

Before the mountain disappears, Royal sees the mineral encased in Autumn's necklace move. Is that mineral responsible for the mountain briefly vanishing? Did it have a reaction to Royal shaking her hand?

There's a not-so-subtle push about Cronus, who carried a sickle that he used to cut a hole through time. If Royal is somehow related to Cronus, could he have some ability to control the mineral that fuels the hole? If that is the case, then that could explain why the mineral in the necklace has a reaction when he touches it. He activates it in some way, and that causes the mountain to vanish until he loses physical contact with the necklace.

Royal doesn't look all that surprised...and that is interesting. Joy is so shocked she stops her vehicle, but it's just an average Tuesday for Royal.

Hello again to this sign.

"We've got all kinds of calls coming in about people seeing a mountain disappear." "A what?" Joy says as if she DIDNT JUST WITNESS THE SAME THING

"Who's blood is on that buckle?" "Well, we're still waiting for..." Does this imply Joy doesn't know whose blood is on the buckle, or is she just saying that to get Luke off her back?

Poor Amy loses her mom, and now she has to find Trevor's dead body 😭she can't catch a break

There was supposed to be a better ending to this post, but my poor dad just called, and I need to yell while he laughs at me. I'll see y'all for episode 4 🌷

Rewatching Outer Range for the umpteenth time. Will slowly reblog with random thoughts and theories.

[eclecticcfangirll]

my favorite things/moments from red white and royal blue

so basically like the whole book but bear with me 

“they’re saying you got your asshole bleached” “that one is true” “i thought so”

the fact that june and nora are so clearly fucking but we have the most unreliable, oblivious, self-centered narrator ever (affectionate) so its never actually put into the books

“a strawberry-blond, whip-smart democrat with high heels, an unapologetic drawl, and a little biracial family”

june’s plane reading material like what is she on

nora calling alex out for crushing on henry right off the bat. literally on page 10. sis knows whats up lmao

“maybe it is technically a rivalry. whatever.” enemies to lovers is winning

the ENTIRE viscount convo at the wedding please😭😭

“its cute how you think everything is about you” “it should be honestly” “thats the spirit” 

the double meaning when alex is thinking about how his fingernails were too stubby to pick out the staples in the pic of henry because his hands weren’t “like a girl’s” 

“he’s too perfect. alex wants to poke it.” 

“sorry i’m not obsessed with you like everyone else. that must be confusing for you” “you know what? i think you are” iconic

ellen reading the word “cake-tastrophy” with audible distain

alex seeing the paper that says “agreement of terms” and being like “um”

“so you can hate the heir to the throne all you want, write mean poems about him in your diary, but the minute you see a camera, you act like the sun shines out of his dick, and you make it convincing” (ive had this memorized since the first time i read it lmaoo its ingrained in my brain forever)

“have you met henry? how am i supposed to do that? he has the personality of a cabbage”

what the fuck is competitive yachting 

“does he get one of these for me?” “yep. and for the record, making it was one of the most depressing moments of my career” 

“okay. ill do it. but i wont have any fun” “ god i hope not”

alex thinking his type of love story is more shakespearean and then june saying his and henrys situation is shakespearean

“who does that? who names a dog david? he sounds like a tax attorney. like a dog tax attorney. drink.”

the image of baby alex trying to force an orca wrangler into early retirement because of “inhumane whale practices” 

alex’s internal dialogue about shaan (and luna for that matter. god hes so bisexual)

i know henry planned that riding practice so he could come around the corner all bathed in the sunset on a white horse in perfect riding clothes

“haven’t decided yet, but astonishingly, it will not be based on you. remember how we sometimes talk about things that are not about you?” “yeah, weirdly”

“’sorry. er. i was just. cornettos.’ he gestures vaguely toward the refrigerator, as if hes just said something of any meaning”

every time alex refers to henry with any sort of royal title

alex almost missing the question when on a literal talk show bc hes too busy admiring how hot henry is in his sweater and button down (relatable)

alex always describing henry and his eyes with words like fresh and soft and blue 

alex being into politics because he genuinely cares about people 🥺 it really is the better timeline

“you know, we have got to stop ending up like this”

“you’re not the prince of me?” “bloody hell”

alex bucking his hips up into henrys 😭 i just know henry almost blacked out lmao

“i cannot believe even mortal peril will not prevent you from being the way you are” yeah 

the way they know each other so well without even knowing each other (henrys above comment^, alex calling him out for not being who he is, the entire closet convo and them both just instinctively getting things once they actually stop and breathe for a second)

“wow, youre wrong” the most alex thing ever

i need to be inside cash’s brain to see what he sees when he opens the closet door and they’re just laying side by side on the floor, blinded by the sudden light

“no booty calls” *literally uses it for booty calls*

bitch mcconnell 

the way alex describes every attractive man he encounters in vivid detail, practically drooling over all these men, and thinks hes straight

luna immediately trying to get alex to admit hes gay for henry lmao

“you wound me” “you exhaust me” “i enchant you” “ill call security” 

all the random emotions alex finds to explain the hot flashes from hot guys doing hot things 

“alex you need other friends. friends who arent in congress” “i have friends! i have june and nora” “yes, your sister and a girl who is also a supercomputer” 

“but we were ever so careful, dear” 

alex being comfortable around henry not caring what henry thinks and being “as weird and manic as he wants” 

“i dont know who you think you’re kidding, you hufflepuff-ass bitch”

shaan has a “motorbike”

“like a dickensian street urchin” pls

henry describing like everything about sailing and alex saying “cool” eight hours later 😭😭

everything about pez

alex canonically watches videos of justin trudeau speaking french and thinks hes straight 

“he would really appreciate it if henry would stop proving him wrong”

“you are the thistle in the tender and sensitive arse crack of my life” “thanks!” 

“tell shaan i say hi and i miss that sweet sweet ass xoxoxo” “i will not”

the entire part of the Great Turkey Calamity. im not even gonna be specific with this one. the whole part. from the part with alex and ellen talking all the way to the texts aboout henrys dad being a babe. everything in between those. its too good to even make a list. how does she come up with this shit. its so good. 

“henry’s got his candy cane jim jams on” 

“he just doesnt often get told hes good enough” THE SIGNIFICANCE

junes reaction to finding out alex was talking to henry about family shit and then comparing it to a love story

alex freaking out about henry being on the guest list and nora going “this is interesting” i love her

alex with his lowercase letters and henry with his perfect grammar

them going from texting every couple of days to answering each other within seconds

alex saying henrys voice is “like very expensive velvet, something moneyed and lush and fluid all at once” 

alex throwing his head back and laughing and henry grinning at him is just so them

the hips convo and “watch me” *gulps down champagne* “i am”

the whole get low scene oh my god the imagery is so good 

“you absolutely must know i did not” and alex and nora being horrified henry hasnt experienced this specific experience

forever obsessed with nora and alex being ridiculously smart little nerds but both still being absolutely chaotic young adults who grind up on each other and kiss for fun and start rumors that theyre fucking. the character depth is delicious

“are they too drunk to communicate in english?”

“one, henrys lips are soft”

their first kiss is the equivalent of literal butterflies and cartoon hearts fluttering around and their second kiss is like the height of passion. we love it

“but he thinks about henry, and, oh” asjhkdfbdkbfkjsdfb

alex and nora are the exact people who would have a marriage of convenience planned out

the entire nora/alex bisexual talk lmaooo 

“still waters, deep dicking” 

“you’ve been, like, draco malfoy obsessed with henry for years-do not interrupt me-”

nora knowing henry is gay but in that way that gays just know and alex being like what???? because somehow this never clicked for him

nora and alex both being bi but reacting to it in exact opposite ways 

“the class is ethical issues in international relations. he really has got to stop taking classes so painfully relevant to his life”

alex seeing henry on a date in the magazine and spending a very short time being angry before his common sense and trust for henry and noras words all work together and then his realization and then him immediately being sad for them instead. and then him being like lmao im not straight

imagine youre liam and youre on a date with your bf and the guy you did gay stuff with in high school who is now the fsotus calls you out of the blue and asks about said gay stuff because hes having a sexuality crisis and then he apologizes 😭😭😭 liam is so funny too

“its alex. yeah, him” 

alex seeing henry in his suit and his immediate thought is how much he wants to rip it off

“oh,” henry says, like an idiot. 

“looking like the goddamn james bond offspring that he is”

“shut up, shut all the way up, oh my god”

i mean, the red room. dinner, hamilton, hot and heavy, god save the queen, yk

all of the inner dialogue from this entire scene lmao so aggressive

“he wants to follow the sound down his throat”

“hes unsure of the dress code for inviting your sworn-enemy-turned-fake-best-friend to your room to have sex with you, especially when that room is in the white house, and especially when that person is a guy, and especially when that guy is a prince of england” this sentence should just be the entire blurb honestly. hidden gem. 

“hes done research. he has diagrams. he can do this.”

“his stomach does some embarrassing acrobatics he plans to never tell anyone about ever”

“henry is tall and gorgeous, half royalty, half movie star, red wine lingering on his lips”

im sorry but if someone took my elbow and kissed me while smiling and simultaneously shut and locked my bedroom door i would simply pass out

“he can practically feel the wind in his hair. its ridiculous.”

“so, like, fuck the moors” 

alex “we’re still whatever we were before just, you know, with blowjobs” claremont-diaz being all “you went out with a girl” right off the bat lmao

“alex’s frenetic energy and henrys aching sureness” 

the descriptions

alex being obsessed with the little curve of henrys waist and his hand being there and that being his proper “god i love men” moment

“devastating”

when alex says wait and henry immediately stops and alex like reassures him oh my god

“hi” “hello” “im gonna take your pants off now” “yes, good, carry on”

im laughing so hard at henry being in love with him for so long and he finally kisses him and alex hurtles through a sexuality crisis and then is like “alright lets go fuck” 

“fucking eyelashes”

“alex is living for it, watching henry come undone, letting him be whatever he needs to be while alone with alex behind a locked door”

the part about the fruit basket like 1) lmao fruit and 2) i love that hes not weird about henry having experience like yes 

imagining henry copying alex saying “freaking out” aghh

“for fuck’s sake man, you just had my dick in your mouth, you can kiss me good night”

alex is so in love lmao

henry laughing <3

“it should not provoke anything visceral, carnal, or bodice-ripping in nature in him at all”

“you look...sweaty” “im gonna go uh. say hi to henry”

“enjoy your summit with the english delegation”

“fifteen days removed from henry swearing at the ceiling of alex’s bedroom and unsure of how to proceed” 

“what in the rich-white-people-sex-dungeon-hell?”

“he whips a thick leather strap off a hook on the wall and alex almost blacks out”

alex’s verbal reaction to the polo attire and henry trying to keep up

“henry is swearing up a storm, which is still disarmingly sexy”

“that shithole? not if i can help it” “oi! thats disrespect of the crown, that is. insubordination. ive thrown men in the dungeons for less” “hey, dont threaten me with a good time” ok london boy

the way henrys name in all the emails is different words that fit hrh

actually all the different names they use in all the emails overall

“and its all so fucking french”

“alex has to admit: henry really has a solid handle on his personal brand” 

“but perfect stoic prince charming laughs when he comes, and texts alex at weird hours of the night: youre a mad, spiteful, unmitigated demon, and im gonna kiss you until you forget how to talk. and alex is kind of obsessed with it.”

“and alex is drunk and fucking transported, feeling every moment of twenty-two years and not a single day older, some kind of hedonistic youth of history. birthday head from another country’s prince will do that”

“and alex’s heart goes so fucking weird that he has to put his head in his hands for a full minute. (but, like, its fine. its not a whole thing)”

“for the record, i agree with you, but also, tell me more” 

never seen a book bring up such a natural build up to a love of gay history and how important it is

“hes starting to understand what swelled in his chest when he reads about stonewall, why he ached over..” YES. THATS IT. THATS THE FEELING!!!!!!!

“i will chop my own tit off”

“i will staple your dick to the inside of your leg if it keeps it in your pants”

alex knowing when henry is in his moods and wanting to help

“baby”

the phone call where henry spills about his family and then alex spills about his past and then about both of their previous dating experience and mental health and gahhh

“two parentheses enclosing 3700 miles”

“i miss you” “i miss you too”

the way it ropes in how alex missing dinner with june brought up past shit for her

june finally snapping and them talking about henry

“you have so much in you, its almost impossible to match it. but hes your match, dumbass” ahhHHHHHHHHHH

“hes like some kind of billionaire, genius, manic-pixie-dream philanthropist.” yep thats pez

the facetime when pez and henry are in the car and alex feeling better because henry looks well rested and the goofy banter

llwynywermod does NOT sound like it should. idk what it should sound like but not like it does. 

henry using his royal accounts money for specifically charity yes

“hes always wanted to be a person with a legacy in this world. henry is undoubtably, determinedly that. its a little intoxicating.”

“yall do school weird”

june and nora drooling over pez LMAO “i want to put my fingers in his mouth” 

cash wearing a feather boa yes

dont stop me now. all of it. 

bea and alex and knowing how rare it is

god i can feel the joy

“bisexuality is truly a rich and complex tapestry” *june shoves napkin in his mouth*

“o captain my captain” “have you got talking points”

alex is literally drunk but he sees henry get nervous and immediately switches into Concerned Boyfriend Mode

travel size lube

f i n g e r s 

so much love

i know henry saw his love mirrored right back at him in alex’s eyes and knew he had to make a joke 

“theres something so incredibly intimate about sitting on the bed they wrecked the night before, the only one who watches him create Prince Henry of Wales for the day.”

“hes got a suspicion all these feelings are why he held off on fucking henry for so long”

“so this is the gang now, huh?”

“how is a man to get anything done knowing alex claremont-diaz is out there on the loose? i am driven to distraction.”

“o fathers of my bloodline. o ye kings of olde. take this crown from me, bury me in my ancestral soil. if only you had known the mighty work of thine loins would be undone by a gay heir who likes it when american boys with chin dimples are mean to him” please

i love alex going back to henrys emails when he is upset

“utah ugly, christian ugly, ugliness couched in dog whistles and toothy white smiles”

“not every white supremacist is a meth head in bumfuck mississippi- there are plenty of them at duke or upenn on daddys money” BLESS

“as if alex, first son of the united states, is unfamiliar with how campaigns work”

the text thread with henry alex june and nora lmao so chaotic

“1. tf is this? arent there poor people in your country? 2. ive already been in the royal box” “you are a delinquent and a plague. please come?”

“don’t worry, i dont think they can detect the thick air of horn-town betwixt you two from the lawn”

“all mischievous smiles and swooping cheekbones”

henry touching two fingers to the back of alex’s elbow mm

philip and henry are the equivalent of a strict parent and rebellious child. “oh you hate alex being in the box? we’re gonna go fuck in a supply closet then. fuck you”

the way henry got right up in his space but didnt kiss him im-

“just so we’re clear, im about to have sex with you in this storage closet to spite your family. like, thats whats happening?” “right” “awesome, fuckin love doing things out of spite” 

“and it should be- it should be funny. it should be hot, stupid, ridiculous, obscene, another wild sexual adventure to add to the list. and it is but...it shouldn’t also feel like last time, like alex might die if it ever stops”

“you’re brave. i could use some of that”

woman at her toilet

obsessed with alex and henry both having so much knowledge to share with each other 

“and alex’s heart doesn’t spread itself out in his chest, and he doesn’t have to grip the edge of the settee to steady himself. because thats what he would do if he were here in this palace to fall in love with henry”

“i see you more than i see clean underwear”

“if shes not giving it to you, im not giving it to you. shes much nicer than me”

“there’s this way henry has of listening to the erratic stream of consciousness that pours out of alex’s mouth and answering with the clearest, crystallized truth that alex has been trying to arrive at all along”

“oh fuck me” “blurgh” “fucking shit. goddammit ass fucker” “what” “jesus tits”

the mental image of this entire scene but especially “henry flies out of bed too. he truly is a picture, wearing an expression of bewildered panic and absolutely nothing else” 

“get in there” “quite” “yes we can unpack the ironic symbolism later”

“zahra is standing there with her thermos and a look on her face that says she did not get a masters degree to babysit a fully grown adult”

“it is, alex thinks half hysterically, a very solid visual pun”

“do i even wants you to explain what the fuck is happening here? literally how is he even here, like, physically or geographically, and why- no nope.”

“oh my god i thought you were getting into international relations or something” “i mean technically-” “if you finish that sentence, im gonna spend tonight in jail”

“youre literally putting your dick in the leader of a foreign state, who is a man, at the biggest political event before the election, in a hotel full of reporters, in a city full of cameras, in a race close enough to fucking hinge on some bullshit like this, like a manifestation of my fucking stress dreams, and youre asking me not to tell the president about it?” “um. yeah?”

“would it make any difference if i told you not to see him again” “no”

“ask me if im afraid of the crown”

“exploring your sexuality: healthy, but does it have to be with the prince of england?”

“history huh? bet we could make some”

“the phrase ‘see attached bibliography’ is the single sexiest thing you have ever written to me”

“should i tell you that when we’re apart, your body comes back to me in dreams? that when i sleep, i see you, the dip of your waist, the freckle above your hip, and when i wake up in the morning, it feels like ive just been with you, the phantom touch of your hand on the back of my neck fresh and not imagined? that i can feel your skin against mine, and it makes every bone in my body ache? that, for a few moments, i can hold my breath and be back there with you, in a dream, in a thousand rooms, nowhere at all?

“ill let you look at one boob. the good one” “theyre both good”

“theres a combination of girl sounds from the back seat”

“hi love’ he hears henry say quietly, privately, right into the hair above his ear, and alex’s breath forgets how to do anything but laugh helplessly”

imagining henry grinning in the passenger seat and bopping his head to the music aghhgndksk

“lbj was obsessed with his own dick. he called it jumbo and would whip it out all the time. like in front of colleagues, reporters, anybody” “american politics. truly fascinating” “you wanna talk, henry the VIII?”

“a little appreciation for the patron saint of gender-neutral bathrooms in california? little shit”

“and alex is. well, alex is so in love he could die”

“-maybe even with the apron still on-”

“i didnt realize this was a jazz brunch”

the skinny dipping is so cute before it goes wrong

“hes spent too much of his life talking, talking, talking to not know the signs when someone doesnt want to hear him anymore”

“henry you motherfucker! henry, you piece of shit, get your ass down here”

“alex’s heart is going to fall out of his ass. henry looks unimpressed”

“really nice. fucking ghost me for a week, make me stand in the rain like a brown john cusack, and now you wont even talk to me. im really just having a great fucking time here. i can see why all yall had to marry your fucking cousins”

“seriously’ he says, helpless and indignant”

obtuse fucking asshole

“i fucking love you, okay?”

“i never imagined you would love me back” 

“what do you want? “i want you-” “then fucking have me”

THE LIVES WE WANT-- THEYRE NOT THAT DIFFERENT. NOT IN THE WAYS THAT MATTER. YOU WANT TO TAKE WHAT YOU WERE GIVEN AND LEAVE THE WORLD BETTER THAN YOU FOUND IT. SO DO I. WE CAN FIGURE OUT A WAY TO DO THAT TOGETHER”

“tell me youre done with me. ill get back on the plane. thats it. and you can live here in your tower and be miserable forever, write a whole book of sad fucking poems about it. whatever. just say it” “fuck you”

“hes in stupid, unbearable love, and henry loves him too, and at least for one night it matters, even if they both have to pretend to forget in the morning”

“dont miss it this time. hes too important”

the copy of le monde

“thats not good enough for me”

“i honestly have never thought i deserved to choose. but you treat me like i do”

“what about you’ he says, as if he doesnt know-”

“diaz, you insane, hopeless, romantic little shit. it had better be forever. be safe”

prince consort road

i need someone to love my rambling like alex loves henrys rambling

everything about james I because i was obsessed before this book but now i really really am

“oh yeah. the top list of reasons to love you goes brain, then dick, then imminent status as a revolutionary gay icon” “you are quite literally queen victorias worst nightmare” 

bringing up david and jonathan yes ma’am

can i please slow dance in this room please its all im asking

“two homes side by side”

“hey, have i told you lately that youre brave” afTER HENRY SAYING HE COULD USE SOME OF HIS BRAVERY AGHHHHH 

“it is, indeed, bullshit”

“what is it american politicians say?- thoughts and prayers”

“and im there, using up your shampoo and making you come to the grocery store with me”

“here lies prince henry of wales. he died as he lived: avoiding plans and sucking cock”

“because im not like the rest of the men in this family, beginning with the fact that i am very deeply gay, philip”

the rooms the rooms henry putting the bad memories in the rooms and then the vase THE WATERLOO VASE BECAUSE ITS TOO BIG FOR THE PALACE AND NOWHERE IN THE PALACE COULD HOLD HIS FEELINGS FOR ALEX AHHHHH

“happy and animated and so alive, a person living in dimensions i couldnt access”

“i thought, this is the most incredible thing i have ever seen and i better keep it a safe distance away from me. i thought, if someone like that ever loved me, it would set me on fire”

“and then, inexplicably, you had the absolute audacity to love me back. can you believe it?”

“you love so much bigger than yourself”

henry being a beautiful writer and alex being a list maker is everything. play to your strengths i guess

speaking of lists: THE LIST THE LIST THE LIST !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

alex realizing how he brushed him off in attempts to make him feel better and how he accidentally hurt him too and acknowledging that and apologizing. we love a healthy relationship

“im calling you as soon as i send this, but i know you like to have these things written down” yes

“did you get engaged?” “*shrugs* i had the weekend off” 

zahra calling alex princess 😭😭

“oh fuck my ass” more great zahra content

alex being strong for henry in the car and calming him down instead of making it about himself when hes freaked and disgusted (and kinda violent) too 🥺

“you’re it okay? im never gonna love anybody else in the world like i love you. so, i promise you, one day we’ll be able to just be, and fuck everyone else”

“you do realize youre talking to a united states senator” “yeah, big fucking man”

the way alex tells raf is so intense and so them

“topography on the map of you, a world im still charting”

“your spine’s a ridge id die climbing”

“give yourself away sometimes sweetheart. theres so much of you”

“ik this is a sad part but “you horny little miscreant”

“what did you do?” what did he do?

“gay defcon five”

alex reacting to the leak decimates me every time its so heartbreaking but its written so well

“do you feel forever about him?” “yeah, i do” “then fuck it”

zahra pulls through frfr with the plan to go to london

“listen up you fuck” so affectionate

“i will personally make your balls into fucking earrings. i will scorched earth your entire motherfucking life”

“she pauses, presumably to listen to him agree because alex cant imagine him doing anything else”

“sweet and posh and shaky and confused”

“sweetheart”

actually just the entire phone call. the whole thing. true love

zahra and alex have such a fantastic dynamic

bea was fr finna hit philip with a guitar

when they see each other after the leak😭 dont talk to me

the description of grief when youre young and how it changes you is so perfect and concise and beautifully worded and it makes me cry

“i love him, with all that, because of all that. on purpose. i love him on purpose”

“six feet of boy curled around kicked in ribs and a recalcitrant heart”

“alex’s ears are ringing”

the way she pointed out that philip said “if youre gay” i never even noticed this but people do this!! all the time!! irl! its so demeaning

“fuck off, philip, i love him” w his chin stuck out <3

“we’ll take the raping and the pillaging and the colonizing, we’ll scrub it up nice and neat in a museum, but oh, no, youre a bloody poof? thats beyond our sense of decorum” get his ass!!!!

“you can take your legacy and your decorum and you can shove it up your fucking arse, philip. im done” GET HIS ASS!!!!!!

*buttons jacket* “for what its worth, that is the bravest son of a bitch ive ever met” 

“we banged it out last night”

gotta hand it to catherine, she chose a hell of a time to come back to life

“the princess who ran away with james bond”

“ive been gay as a maypole since the day i came out of mum, philip”

“in the silence that follows, alex has to bite down very hard on his tongue to suppress the urge to laugh hysterically”

alex “we could still do that” claremont-diaz

“i dont care for that tone at all” put him in his place catherine!

page 354= the page i finally started sobbing the first time i read it

seriously how is everyone in the better timeline not sobbing into their hands seeing these rallies

“wouldn’t i mum? wouldn’t you like to find out” ajshdjfbshjbfskbf

“ya know, i think all that cocaine i did must have really done a number in my reflexes” LMAO

never tell me the odds

“dc dykes on bikes chase protestors” yes ma’am

to be continued

[youare-mysonshine]

heavy || bucky barnes

Summary: reader’s mental health has been taking a decline and bucky is there.

Requested: No

Pairing: TFATWS Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings: talks of mental health, depression, anxiety, angst, cussing.

Word Count: 3.2K

A/N: Hey guys, I’m back I guess lmao. I’ve really been struggling with my mental health lately and I guess I kinda just wanted to put it into words, something productive? And I’ve been feeling our angsty emo boy bucky barnes. Most of you might’ve followed me for my Oscar fics but I kinda wanna branch out and I thought this would be a good time to do so. Anyways, I know that some of you have inboxed me or messaged me and I haven’t responded and I’m sorry. But I just want you all to know that if you’re struggling, I’m always here to talk. About anything, always. So, I hope you enjoy this. I might’ve cried while writing this lmao and I also might’ve ended it on such an awkward place but, i’m still getting used to writing again. (Flashbacks are in italics)

————

Bucky didn’t miss the dark circles under your eyes. He didn’t miss the way you sort of slouched as you approached him. He didn’t miss the way that your smile didn’t really meet your eyes.

“Hey,” You said in a breathless voice. “Sorry, I’m late. I got held up.” You said as you took a seat across from him in the booth. Held up. It was better than telling him that you were thinking of just not showing up at all. In the end, you knew that you couldn’t do that. You couldn’t just blow off your new friend who you had so enjoyed spending time with. So, in a rush, you got dressed and made your way to the small, quiet diner that you two had taken to frequenting together. Bucky Barnes was an enigma if you’d ever met one. The way that you had met was rather.. cliche and something straight from a story.

You had been trying to lay off of the caffeine for a while, realizing that you had nearly gone through an entire packet of 32 k-pods that you had just purchased. You realized that you might’ve had a problem. You had been going pretty strong with staying away from caffeine for the time being, until you passed by a coffee shop and got a whiff of coffee. You just couldn’t help yourself; you bought a cup of coffee. It was when you were walking down the street, holding the cup of coffee in one hand, looking down, that you didn’t see someone walking right in your path. You had collided into what seemed like a solid wall and the impact had caused you to squeeze the cup of coffee in surprise, the warm liquid burning your hand, staining your clothes and the other person. You had realized it was another person you had crashed into when you heard them let out a low cuss.

Bucky’s grumpy self had been fully prepared to tell you off for crashing into him, having just left his therapist’s office, but when you looked up at him with those bright eyes of yours, a million apologies spilling from your lips a mile a minute, he swallowed whatever harsh words had nearly sprung forth. He had apologized as well; both of you had been at fault. Bucky had been going over his session with Dr. Raynor that morning, completely lost in his own mind, and you had your eyes trained on the ground, something that was a bad habit of yours. The shock of realizing you had bumped into a man, a really really handsome man with the brightest blue eyes you had ever seen, had made you temporarily forget that you had practically scorched your hand with the coffee, and that you had gotten it on him as well.

“I’m so, so sorry.” You said once again, quickly averting your eyes from the handsome stranger’s face. Instead you focused on the smushed cup in your hand and the stains on his leather jacket. It just made you feel even terrible. “I, I can pay for you to get your jacket cleaned, if you want. Really. I wasn’t paying attention and I just, for whatever reason, squished my cup and.. I’m sorry.” You said, kind of breathlessly.

“It’s.. it’s alright.” His voice was like the coffee that you had been drinking. Smooth and rich. It was deep, something that reverberated deep in your chest and had your stomach fluttering with butterflies. “I wasn’t paying attention either. Really, it’s fine. And don’t worry about my jacket. No harm, no foul.” He said. “You should, uh, you should take care of that hand. Hope you didn’t burn yourself too bad.” He gestured to your hand, still clutching the cup, with one of his own gloved hands.

“Oh, I’ll be fine. It wasn’t that hot. Thank you, though. And again, I’m really, really sorry.” Sparing one, seemingly, last glance at the handsome stranger, you side stepped him and began to walk away, tossing the empty cup of coffee in a trash can on the sidewalk. But you didn’t get very far because that deep voice called out to you, halting you in your tracks.

“Can I buy you another cup of coffee?” Bucky’s mouth had opened and spoken the words long before his brain could even catch up. He didn’t know why he had asked you that, but something in his gut was just telling him too.

“What?” A look of total bewilderment had crossed your face and he had seen it.

“I just, well I thought that, since I bumped into you, I could make it up to you by buying you a new cup of coffee. If you wanted, I mean. You don’t have to say yes if you don’t want to. I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable or anything.” Bucky clarified, hand stuffed in his pocket, waiting for your answer. For a few seconds, you simply stood there, unsure of what to say because surely this wasn’t happening? The last time that you had gone out with a guy was.. well, shit, you didn’t even remember the last time. The little voice in the back of your head, that anxious, paranoid little voice, was telling you not to go off with a stranger. You’d watched too many episodes of Criminal Minds and other true crime shows and documentaries to know that situations like this never turned out well. However, you didn’t get a bad feeling from this particular man. He seemed just as awkward and slightly frazzled as you felt. So you agreed.

“I’m Bucky, by the way.”

“Y/N.”

That had happened about two months ago. Ever since then, you and Bucky had formed a strong friendship. Your first time getting coffee with him had been awkward, as were the next few times that you had seen one another. But things got easier. Becoming friends was easy. You kind of fell into this routine, almost as if you two had known each other your whole lives. That was why Bucky telling you who he really was had been terrifying for him. He carried around guilt and shame and just contempt for everything he’d done. Everything The Winter Soldier represented, and when he told you, he figured that you would think the same. He had asked you meet him at the diner that had now become your spot and and you remember how he nervously wrung his gloved hands together. You remember when you asked him what was wrong and he didn’t verbally respond but he took off his gloves; the right one first and then the left, revealing a shiny black metal hand, golden lines intricately placed.

He told you then. Maybe he didn’t tell you everything but he told you who he was and he had braced himself for you to get up and storm out. Or, to yell at him and tell him how much of a monster he was. But, it never came. Instead, you reached out and placed your hand on top his. Not his real hand, but the metal one. You didn’t say anything. You just gave him that smile that was quickly becoming his favorite. Sometimes, silence spoke a thousand words. To Bucky, you had become kind of a respite for him. Even in the late nights or mornings when he woke up after a nightmare. Or after a particularly hard session with Dr. Raynor. He had closed himself off from other people except you.

Bucky might not have known it, but he gave you the same level of comfort as you gave him. You found yourself craving his presence. Every time you were around him, you couldn’t help but to smile or laugh. In the time that you spent together, your mind was clear and free from all your worries. It all evaporated into thin air. Your mind, usually so active with all sorts of thoughts and worries, could finally rest when you were with Bucky. You could sleep. You could get up in the morning without that stress and anxiety drowning you. It was okay. It was great.

Until it wasn’t.

“No problem, doll.” He said, gloved hands clasped under the table on his lap. “I already ordered. Got your usual. Hope that was alright.” He added, to which you nodded absentmindedly.

“Yeah, yeah. That’s fine. Thanks Buck.” You said, mustering up a half hearted smile that didn’t reach your eyes. It was like even smiling drained the energy from you. You were exhausted. Not even just physically but mentally and emotionally. You had been having such good days for a while now, since meeting Bucky. You felt like maybe you would finally be alright but.. this feeling of hopelessness, the feeling that nothing was quite right, it was heavy. It weighed you down. It suffocated you. You wanted to be alone, but you also couldn’t stand to be alone because when you were alone, you were just stuck in your head and being in your head was the absolute worst place to be.

The intrusive thoughts had started. They told you that you would do nothing but weigh Bucky down. That he didn’t need someone like you in his life, someone with clear problems of their own, when he was going to therapy trying to better himself. Even if it had been mandatory for him to go. You wanted to push him away, save him from yourself, but you also couldn’t stand the thought of losing him.

Bucky noticed the shift in you. Normally when you two met up, whether it was at the diner or anywhere else, you would usually talk his ear off. Not that he minded, he was content to just sit back and listen to you. Sometimes, you’d tell him about a new book that you had started reading. You had just started reading the fifth Harry Potter book and you were trying to get him to read them. You’d tell him about your day. You’d ask him how his day went, how it went with Dr. Raynor, though you never pushed for more information. You always let him share if he was comfortable with it and he appreciated that. Sometimes you teased him for being such an old man.

The food came soon after you had arrived and sure enough, Bucky had ordered your usual. It sent a pang through your heart when you realized that he had memorized your order, down to the extra syrup and whipped cream on the pancakes. Bucky always liked to make fun of you for ordering the same thing when you came to the diner. No matter what time it was, you always ordered the pancakes with extra syrup and extra whip cream, with the strawberries on the side. Secretly, though he found it adorable.

Today, you had barely even taken more than a few bites and that was what really let Bucky know that something wasn’t right. You kept your head down, eyes on the pancakes and you cut them up, bringing a few up to your mouth and chewing slowly, but you mostly just moved them around your plate with the fork in your hand. Bucky himself had barely taken only a few bites of the food he’d ordered for himself, but it wasn’t for lack of appetite, it was because of the growing concern. His bright blue eyes were now a stormy grey, kind of like the clouds that you see during a heavy storm. His brows were furrowed, giving him an appearance almost as if he were angry.

“You alright, Y/N? You’ve barely eaten your food and normally you finish before I do.” He attempted to joke, to bring about that smile that seemed to always fill him with warmth. He half expected you to look up at him with that cheeky little smile, a mischievous look in your eyes and say “You know, I would be offended by that, but I know why you eat so slow, Buck. I completely understand. You don’t want your dentures to fall out.” But it never came.

You don’t know what it was. Bucky asking you if you were alright or if it was simply all the pressure of just.. everything, finally breaking, but you could feel the hot tears in your eyes. They blurred your vision until you couldn’t really see the plate of the pancakes in focus. The dam had finally come apart and you couldn’t hold it in anymore. You set the fork down and buried your face in your hands, your shoulders lightly shaking as you began to cry. All Bucky could do was stare for a few seconds, alarm written all over his face. Alarm and distress because he had no idea what just happened and if he had done something to upset you.

“Woah woah, hey. Sweetheart, hey. What’s wrong?” In seconds, Bucky was out of his side of the booth and scooting in beside you. You felt the comfort of his warmth, you felt his arm tentatively, almost hesitantly, slide around your shoulders and anchor you to him. You shook your head, attempting to calm down, to stop the tears but the more you tried, the more they seemed to come.

“I-I’m sorry, Bucky.. I.. I’m sorry.. I-I’m fine. Really.” You said, sniffling. It was apparent to you both that you were not alright and he really just wanted to get to the bottom of it. Or at least attempt to comfort you. But doing that in the middle of a diner with other people around wasn’t ideal.

“Hey, my apartment is only a short walk away. Come on, let’s get you out of here and somewhere more quiet.” You didn’t protest. You just nodded and slid out of the booth after he did. Bucky took out his wallet and placed a few bills on the table, paying for the uneaten food, and then quickly led you out of the establishment. He kept his hand on you, almost like an anchor. Whether it was to reassure you or himself, he didn’t know and you didn’t mind either. It was probably the only thing that kept you from retreating inside of your mind and giving in to the panic that so desperately wanted out.

You didn’t even realize that you had reached his apartment until he had led you up the stairs and you were standing behind him as he unlocked the door. He allowed you to step in first and then quickly followed behind you, shutting the door as he did so. You didn’t really get the chance to take in his apartment because he had ushered you to sit on his couch while he knelt in front of you.

“Alright, you’re scarin’ me here, doll. What’s wrong? Did someone hurt you?” The sheer look of concern and slight panic in his face and those pretty eyes of his made the waterworks come back again. You shook your head, your face scrunched up in anguish. Hot bullet tears fell from your eyes and left a wet path in their wake down your cheeks. Bucky wasn’t one to pry; he hated it when people tried to pry into his life and he didn’t do it to you, but he couldn’t stand the sight of seeing you cry. He couldn’t stand the sight of your once bright eyes and cheery smile just.. gone. You eyes were sad and your lips were pulled into a frown. “Talk to me, baby.” He practically pleaded.

“I just.. I don’t.. I don’t know how to explain it, Buck.” You cried. “I-I.. I just feel like..” You let out a frustrated cry when you couldn’t find the right words but Bucky was patient. He reached a hand up, cupping your cheek and wiping away the tears that kept falling. “I don’t feel.. happy. Everyday I wake up and I just, I feel fine for like a few seconds and then everything just comes crashing down on me. I can’t ever stop thinking. I can’t sleep at night. I’m tired. I’m tired of feeling like this, Bucky. And I feel fucking crazy. Sometimes I feel like you don’t even really like me. I feel.. hopeless, like nothing is ever going to be okay. I might feel okay for a few seconds but then it just goes away.” You explained, though you were sure that you probably sounded like a raving and ranting lunatic. “Before I met you, I liked being alone but I also hated it because when I was alone, I would just overthink and overthink and overthink about every fucking thing. If it wasn’t one thing it was another just giving me such bad anxiety and.. I don’t know what to do anymore, Bucky. I’m just tired of feeling like this. Feeling like nothing is ever going to be okay, like I’m never going to be okay. I just feel.. alone.”

His heart was well and truly broken. In the two months that he’d known you, he hadn’t known how badly you had struggled with your mental health. He hadn’t known the war that you fought within your mind, and how bad it had become. You were such saving grace for Bucky; you saved him from the wars inside of his mind. The constant feeling of guilt that he fought with on a daily basis, and now.. he just wanted to do the same for you. He wanted to shoulder some of the pain that you carried, the pain that seemed to be weighing you down. Both of his hands now cupped your cheeks so delicately, as if you were the most precious thing in the world to him. His blue eyes were shining, looking at you with not pity, but something like.. understanding. If anyone knew what you were feeling, it was Bucky.

“You’re not alone.” His smooth and rich voice was so soft, so gentle that it brought on a new set of tears. “You’re not alone, sweetheart. Not anymore. You know why? Cause you got me.” He said. “I know what it’s like to feel hopeless. To feel stuck in your head. To feel like nothing is ever gonna get better. I felt like that in Wakanda. Sometimes.. sometimes, we need help. And I know I’m not one to be talking considering that I don’t really like talking to my therapist or even going,” That roused the smallest of smiles from you. “I’m here. You know that, right? I’m here. You got me and I’m not going anywhere. I promise. I don’t care if you have a million bad days. I don’t care if you feel like you’re bothering me. I’ll be there every time.” You two have gradually gravitated close to one another until your foreheads were pressed together. Bucky was still knelt in front of you on the couch, his hands still holding your cheeks. Your eyes were closed and you could feel his warm breath fanning your face. The tears had stopped falling but you were still sniffling softly. “You’ve helped me. Even if you don’t know it. You’ve helped me.” He was whispering. There was no one but you two in his apartment but he was still whispering the words meant for only you to hear. “Now, let me help you. Please.”

“Okay. I trust you, Bucky.”

[tsukkiskitten]

A night to regret - Miya Atsumu

content warnings: angst, smut

Wc : 858

Miya Atsumu hates confrontations and you hated how he left you hanging.

You wonder now bitterly what she meant to him and you would never know. And you would have asked if he didn't hate confrontations. But the truth is he left you with a broken heart, unanswered questions, blue ticked messages, and his stupid hoodie you always loved to wear.

"Does she know you are here with me?" You rasp, breathing down his ear. With a growl he thrusts harder into you, making you claw his back. You know you would regret showing up to his teammate's party, and fucking atsumu but you didn't care, not when he was all over you. And you hate it. Hate he's doing this to forget about your best friend.

"I don't - ah - fuck stop clenching," you whimper when his hand comes down to rub your clit, roughly, his mouth busy nibbling your earlobe. "She doesn't care - fuck"

Placing your hands over his that are caging you under him, you tilt your head to look right into his eyes.

"But you do." You whisper softly, almost timid. He slows down the movement of his hips with a faraway look. You try to chase him back though, bucking into him with a whine, making him groan. Because you can tell. You can tell that he is thinking about her and this makes your eyes sting.

"Maybe we shouldn't do this." He says hesitantly stilling your hips when he sees your wet eyes, ignoring your cries of protest. Glaring at him, eyes wet, you clench around his cock.

He hisses, eyes rolling back, losing his grip on you.

"Stop. Talking." You snap your hips back to him, he throws his head back, letting a broken moan.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he tries to forget about her; he tries not to picture her here with him. But it was a lost battle, the ghost of the memories he tried so hard to forget is back and has taken over his mind.

He hates how he could still see her stupid smile beneath his closed-eye lids. How he could almost picture her here; remembering the small whines she lets out when he touches her only pains him.

And then he remembers she is not his anymore, growling he starts fucking you harder now. You frown, biting back a whimper as he places his forehead against you, sighing at the feeling of your skin against his.

Warm breath hits his face, yet he doesn't open his eyes. Because it's easier this way. He didn't even realize that he was crying until he felt you wiping his tears gently, cradling his face in your palms.

When he finally looks into your eyes, he breaks.

"Please make me forget about her," he whispers, feeling small. He wants to feel wanted again, desperate for the painful hollow in his heart to just disappear. Smiling sadly, you place your lips against his softly, trying to calm him down. Calm you down.

"Okay." You whisper back.

He is avoiding your eyes.

And you hate it. But you don't say anything instead you move your body closer to his, praying he wouldn't push you away.

You feel him stiffening.

"I like to cuddle after I uh-"

"Okay," He murmurs, sleepily. To your surprise, he cuddles closer to you seeking your warmth, wrapping his arms around you. It doesn't take long for him to fall asleep though.

You stare into the darkness with your heart pounding in your chest, wondering how you are going to face the boy sleeping next to you in the morning.

The boy you are desperately in love with. the boy who bloomed love for him in your heart.

but you know ..... you know that there is no space left for you in his heart.

As the night grows older, your eyes flick to his peaceful face and then to his unmarked neck, ("No marks," he says firmly, with a hint of regret or maybe pity, reminding you once again that he will never be yours.) you memorize every detail of his face, the warmth of his body and the scent of his cologne.

Because you feel it in your bones that you won't see him again ever.

And for months from now, there will be a playlist dedicated to him on your phone.

For months from now, you will get drunk every week to the point you could feel the ghost of his fingers touching you, him smiling that smile you love the most.

And you know when tomorrow comes he will wake up before you, leaving you alone in this cold bed.

And you will be left not only with a broken heart but also with a broken friendship of a best friend.

A/n : This fic was the product of my depression and horniness and was sitting in my drafts for ages lol. Finally posting this baby today lmao.