#and know that they will grow up to be men that someone someday might be afraid of

[autos-ismos]

Little boys

One day you'll be a soldier

And a man you'll never meet

Will promise that you will kill

As much as needed.

One day your friends will tell you

To stop crying at your broken arm.

One day your father will teach you how to drink

Because it's the only way he knows

To ease the sting.

But right now, you are sitting on my lap.

And I am reading you a book about tractors and diggers.

And you are explaining to me how each machine works,

And that they seem to be mislabelled.

[cheesiedomino]

Second Chances ꙳ ੭ * ‧

synopsis: your old situationship from many years ago just moved back in town and of course, he has to text you. but it’s not just any normal text — he’s asking you out on a proper date this time. will you give a second chance to Cupid? or will you be left here feeling stupid?

genre: lee minho x fem!reader | exes (??) to lovers wc: 4.6k tags/warnings: fluff, some light angst, slightly suggestive but nothing srs, mild cursing, kissing, small mentions of crying T-T

now playing 🎧: from the start by laufey

[this is part of my valentine’s series where i write a short story for each member surrounding themes of love, newfound romance, relationship hardships & more.]

“Why don’t you give Tinder a try already? I’m sick of hearing you nagging all day about being lonely!” Areum abruptly suggests mid-convo , resting her palm on the side of her face.

As you both casually wait for the food to arrive, you end up on the dreadful topic of dating again. You got into a real heated discussion with her, sitting in a booth at this new restaurant one of your coworker’s recommended. It wasn’t super well known but they wouldn’t stop raving about how delicious their breadsticks were. The place wasn’t too jam packed but definitely had a decent amount of people. What you weren’t anticipating on was seeing dozens of couples here, it kind of threw your whole vibe off since it only reminded you of your current sad relationship status. Maybe you were putting far too much thought into it but everything seemed so highly unfair. Glaring in envy while they all happily rub in your face that they’ve found their forever companion.

Life really can be cruel at times.

“You can’t be for real right now..” you instantly side eye your friend from across the table. Feeling personally triggered whenever she mentions online dating. You refuse to try it, never wanting to partake in such a vain concept where you swipe left and right based solely on looks. “That’s not the same as real romance. I want to meet someone naturally, wanna tell my kids when they grow up how I met their dreamy, hunk of a father in aisle 39 at Whole Foods.”

One could say it’s almost pathetic in a way— this burning desire you harbor within, longing for a pure, quaint, and beautiful love. Constantly catching yourself daydreaming about finding your life partner, the person you’re going to marry and possibly create an eternal family with. That day has yet to come unfortunately, but you still hold onto the thought of you someday meeting the one.

You thought you found them before, but thou shalt not speak thy names out into existence.

“Well, good luck finding ‘real romance’ in the big age of 2024-” Areum snorts in amusement, taking a pause to sip on her mango strawberry lemonade. “I need whatever drugs you’re on that’s making you this delulu so I can fantasize about my knight and shining armor that’s never coming!”

God you hate that word. Delulu. Why are you suddenly “delusional” for wanting a picture perfect romance? It doesn’t need to be perfect per se, but you want to feel adored, swept off your feet and embraced like the true queen you are. Was that too much to ask? Considering the current state of dating in this day and age, it might just be.

“I mean, let’s face it girl. You literally don’t know the first thing about love ___, it’s not all sunshine and rainbows like in the K-dramas y’know! Haven’t you only had like one boyfriend in high school? You barely even dated that guy for a month-”

“That’s because he dumped me to go move to LA and become a dumb YouTuber!” You snapped back, cutting her off to get all the facts straight.

It was hard not to grimace while thinking of such old memories. Dating a Minecraft streamer definitely had to be one of the most embarrassingly cringe choices you’ve ever made.

“Whatever that’s beside the point. What I’m trying to get at here is you don’t have the best track record when it comes to men. Remember that other guy you were seeing before we graduated? I thought y’all would’ve dated for sure but he turned out to be a dickhole just like the rest of ‘em…” Areum shakes her head in disbelief, recalling all those times you’d call in a frenzied panic about things not working out.

“What was his name again? Min… Minwoo? No, that’s not it.. it was definitely Min something.” She attempts on remembering but keeps drawing a blank.

“Minho.” You answer almost instantaneously. His name still rolled off the tongue smooth as velvet.

It felt weird though. Saying it out loud after so many years of blocking it from your immediate vocabulary. A name you thought would never escape your lips again.

“Damn, you really still think about him don’t you?” She dares to ask, knowing how difficult it is for you to even talk about this anymore.

You only respond by nodding slowly, unable to bring yourself to look at her. It was far too intense; bearing the emotions of hurt and guilt from a past fling that meant more to you but nothing to the other. That’s how most of your tragic stories end— always too overly into them while they barely reciprocate any of that energy towards you. The thing is, you thought Minho actually liked you, even so far as wanting to date in the near future. Considering he brought you over his parent’s house (to hook up of course), and though you didn’t meet them you still think that meant something. Most men don’t just bring any woman they’re seeing to their parent’s place without somewhat thinking a potential relationship could happen down the line.

“So that’s why you should download Tinder and start swipin’ on some other cuties! It’ll at least distract you for a bit and get your mind off that asswipe,” Areum pitches her idea once more, “there’s plenty other fish in the sea ___. Not everyone online is some crazy serial killer, plus you clearly don’t seem to be having much luck out in the real world.”

You wanted to jump up from the table and erase that smirk from her face but instead you roll your eyes at that last remark. “I don’t need those shitty dating apps. I’m very capable of finding someone in real life for your information!” You quickly retort as a means to defend yourself. Even though she did have a point, her delivery could’ve been a little bit nicer.

It’s not easy being a hopeless romantic, you can’t help but yearn for that special someone to enter your life and change it for the better. You won’t feel wholly satisfied nor complete until you do. The sad reality of the matter was that you are still painfully single. No one’s interesting enough to cease your attention, let alone go on any actual dates. Areum’s had enough of your bitching and whining though, there’s only so many rants and tirades she can keep listening to about your vicious hatred for men before she loses it completely. Your nonexistent love life has become more of a nuisance as that time of year approaches— Valentine’s Day. A god forsaken holiday you’ve always loathed with a passion. Wanting nothing more than to be one of those girls on the receiving end getting flowers and chocolates. A day full of the utmost joy and pleasant surprises from your loving significant other.

Must be nice..

Speaking of surprises.. The buzzing in your ear echoes from your phone pinging loudly, indefinitely startling you. Grabbing it to check the sudden notification, your eyes go absurdly wide at the contact name displayed on your screen. Blinking numerous times from shock, you stare at your phone in incredulity; making sure your eyes weren’t playing tricks on you.

Lee Minho. The Lee Minho?

What kind of sorcery is being conjured where the instant you bring him up, he somehow texts you after all these years of not speaking? This coincidence was more than unsettling to you. A part of your inner thoughts still believes this is all some elaborate joke being played on you, waiting for a cameraman to pop out of some curtain to announce you’ve just been pranked. But nothing happens, life proceeds as normal. Now you’re left with the most puzzling notification you might’ve ever received.

It was your last year of college and the pressure of your academics along with appeasing your family was getting to you immensely. You needed an escape from all of it, desperately. Which you found through none other than Lee Minho, the boy who worked as a barista at Cozmo’s; this coffee shop you used to frequent a lot. It was a cute, small family-owned establishment and they made the best matcha lattes— in your humble opinion. You’d pick one up almost every day along with a slice of freshly baked cinnamon bread. It started off as only playful banter with him in the beginning, then it lead to more as time went on. One day, as you reached out to pay he blocked your hand from moving any closer, letting you freely walk away without spending a dime. This soon became a regular occurrence, as you’d start seeing Minho outside of work, getting to know more and more about him. You remember so desperately wanting to date back then, pitying your past self for thinking there was even a chance.

‘Maybe he’s just texted the wrong person’ you psyche yourself into thinking, but when you unlock your phone to finally read the message — an uncomfortable lump forms in the pit of your throat.

Minho 🐈:

Hey is this still ___’s number?

You honestly don’t know why you still have his number saved, let alone allowing a whole emoji to be next to it. Though it never was like you to delete anything, no matter how painful it may have been. More lingering questions makes you want to seek out the possible solutions. Why would he text you of all people ? None of this adds up in your mind realistically. Furrowing your brows in concentration, you think of what to say as you draft out a response.

Yes… who’s this?

After a tedious struggle of typing out multiple paragraphs and immediately deleting them, you went over your words a few more times before sending a final reply. It would’ve been strange had you knew exactly who he was off the bat, that’ll just be dead giveaway you still had his contact info saved this whole time. But with that logic, doesn’t that make Minho just as odd for still keeping your number after all this time has passed?

Your phone dings again.

Minho 🐈:

Srsly -_-

Did you really delete my number??

Bet he didn’t see that one coming. He probably thought the moment he texts you, you were gonna kiss up to him like you’ve always done in the past. Mentally giggling to yourself at the image of him getting flustered by you not knowing who he was at first. Feels good to know you knocked his confidence down a peg.

Lol, chillax.. I know it’s you Minho :P

Not even a minute later, a flood of incoming messages appear. Biting your lip out of nervousness, your heart couldn’t stop beating so fast— anxiously checking your phone as the atmosphere around you suddenly gets stuffier.

Minho 🐈:

Better be lucky I didn’t block you after that ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ

Guess who’s back in the city btw. Did ya miss me? ;)

No need to answer that, I already know you did. You should stop by at Cozmo’s again sometime!

Also what’re you up to this week? I need you to clear out all your plans because I’m taking you out on a date.

You always knew Minho was the bold type but this was on another level. The sheer audacity he has to even ask something like this after not reaching out for almost 3 years was more than ballsy on his part. It felt like a surge of butterflies erupting in your stomach, getting lightheaded as you think about seeing him again. He really had an effect on you like no other.

Glancing up from your screen to finally pay attention to Areum again, you assure her everything’s going to be just fine. “Looks like I won’t be needing to download Tinder after all.”

Later on that day you ended up going to Cozmo’s and meeting up with Minho. It never really took much convincing from him to get you to budge, though it was a hell of a lot worse back then. You used to blindly follow along with anything he said just to seek his approval, hoping that eventually he’ll see you as the girl he wants to settle down with. Alas, nothing ever blossomed into something more, and you knew deep down that this was headed nowhere— but that still didn’t stop you from fantasizing about a future with him. Getting lost into deep thought, head heavy in the clouds as you imagine the idea of Minho confessing his undying love for you. You’ll be so caught off guard as he gets down on one knee, looking at you with the entire solar system in eyes while he proposes in the most charming way. It really is pitiful how much you still daydream about a guy who wasn’t your boyfriend but would constantly act like he was, then up and leaves without mentioning a single word about it.

You convinced yourself he ran off with someone else to have a better life with, even hearing through town gossip that he’s moved to South Korea to pursue becoming an idol. Whatever the case may be it still weighed heavily on your mind that he never bothered to tell you anything, even a simple ‘goodbye’ would’ve sufficed the empty hole in your heart. The main reason you agreed on meeting up with Minho was to finally ask, why? Why did he pretend to like you? Why did he act like your boyfriend when he never had intentions on seriously dating? Why was he so good at making you fall so hard for him..?

“You look great.” You subconsciously blurt out, affixed in a daze as you stare in awe at the man in front of you.

It’s been a while since you came here— never able to fully bring yourself to try and go back. Though you knew this place first, and they really did have the best Mactha lattes in the universe. It reminded you too much of him and you sadly had to let it go.

You weren’t proud of it but you did go home quickly to change clothes and redo your makeup. Usually you wouldn’t care but this was the only guy you’ve been consistently crushing on for years, you had to feel good inside and out. Minho was just as gorgeous as you remembered, if not he looked even more ethereal — which seemed impossible in itself already. He’s grown up so beautifully, his facial features became more sharp, especially his jawline which looks so defined and sculpted by the Gods.

Minho lightly chuckles at your timidness, some things just never change. “You look way better.” His lips drew into a faint smirk as he admires your presence.

He meant every word of what he said, you looked really good, and it was making him even more frustrated that so much time has passed. Regretting the way he handled things so many years ago, wishing he could take it all back and do everything differently. Seeing you again made it easier for Minho to suppress the guilt he’s borne for so long. This moment feels like a second chance to make amends for his past mistakes.

You couldn’t help but blush when you hear his compliment, feeling your ears grow hot as you look at the ground. There was a silent pause between you that lasted for what seemed like ages. Weirdly enough the conversation flowed well after he finally broke the awkwardness, the chemistry was overall still there and were able to pick up right where it left off.

“I’m so glad you came ___, I’ve been dying to see you since I got here. I’m surprised you even still responded to my lame ass.”

Minho’s light confession puzzles you. If he really was dying to see you, why’d he wait so long to get in contact with you? To be fair, you don’t know the exact time he came back.

“Oh, is that so? When’d you come back? Also show me pics of Korea, I’ve always wanted to know what it’s like there.” You fondly inquire, leaning against the side of the wall as he’s still behind the counter. He mentioned to you he’s only working part time because his parents would rather mooch off their son for free labor than to hire and pay a new employee.

“Yesterday,” he quickly states before taking out his phone to scroll through his gallery, “guess my sister must’ve told you I went there huh?”

You shook your head, “Nah, I haven’t talked to Elle in a while. She’s tried hitting me up a few times though.. but I found out through Areum ‘cause she was seeing Hoseok back then.”

They were definitely “seeing” each other alright, but mostly in the bedroom. Areum didn’t want anything exclusive with Hoseok and neither did he, it was the perfect friends with benefits situation. Minho and Hoseok were good friends who’ve known each other for a while, so naturally he’d tell Areum everything and overshare at some point.

“Agh, there’s a customer gotta take this. One sec, sorry!” He briefly apologizes before bringing his attention to the new person heading inside. You nod, signaling he’s good to go. “I’ll be waiting over there,” you point to a small wooden table with 2 chairs in a corner.

Once Minho comes back you notice he’s no longer wearing his purple work apron; back in his regular attire now and sporting an oversized dark grey hoodie that was three times too big. He was holding a large cup with green liquid and a paper bag in his hand, that’s when it clicks for you— he still remembers your favorite meal.

He’s grinning the whole time he’s handing you the matcha latte and cinnamon pastry, smiling from ear to ear like a kid on Christmas Day. This was the most you’ve seen him be so enthusiastic about something, even back when you were “with” him you can’t recall him beaming with such energy like this.

“Awh, thank you. I haven’t had either one of these in years!” You wanted to give him the biggest hug but you refrained from doing so, feeling as though it may be too early for that.

“Of course dear, anything for you.”

Why does everything he says have to make you melt from the inside out? It’s not fair! >:(

Glancing down at your yummy beverage, you see a message written on the side of the glass with bold permanent sharpie. Tilting your head to read it, the words are bit jumbled together but you get the gist. You’re almost left speechless after it reads: ‘___, Will you be my valentine?’

Your most dreaded and least favorite holiday is here, yippee! But, there’s a twist on this year’s turn of events; you actually have someone to celebrate this wretched tradition with. You should be excited but all you’re feeling is the sudden urge to vomit as you were nervous out of your mind. This was kind of weird to you, going on a date with your ex boyfriend who was never even your real boyfriend. Looking back on it now you shouldn’t have tolerated a relationship dynamic like that, Minho was clearly taking advantage of your passiveness by not explicitly saying what he wanted. On the contrary, you had no one to blame but yourself, you never spoke up or criticized anything even if it didn’t coincide with your personal morals.

The fact he never took you on an actual date until now speaks volumes, you obviously didn’t have enough self worth back to demand better treatment. It took you years of figuring out what a real, healthy relationship is supposed to be like through trials of therapy and that was an emotional rollercoaster in itself. All your uncertainties soon faded away once you became more secure and knew exactly what you wanted for yourself. It took every ounce of patience and acceptance to unlearn all your bad coping mechanisms and other toxic behaviors that were only stunting your inner growth. You’re happy to be in a position now where you’re able to express wholeheartedly what you deserve, it’s the best feeling ever to feel like you’re in control of your own life.

You spent almost 3 hours getting ready and your bedroom now looked like a war zone. The outfit you chose was super girly, a frilly white dress with pink platform heels— Minho’s going to drool in amazement when he sees you. When you sent Areum photos of you before heading out, she responds right way with a series of hearts and other sweet comments— hyping you up to no end like the best friend she is. She’s also able to help pull you out of your doubtful headspace, when you felt unsure if you could really go through with this she quickly psyched you out of it. Reminding you exactly who you are and why you are the prize, not him. ‘He should be the one who’s nervous, not the other way around’ you assure yourself over and over as a mini ego boost.

His jaw dropped when he spotted you walking up to his car, infatuated by how pretty and perfect you looked in every way possible. It angers him so much to know he took all this for granted, he didn’t appreciate all of you the way he should’ve but now he gets another chance to redo everything and right his wrongs. It’s a lot of pressure but he bravely accepts it, he could never mess up another opportunity like this again. The car ride was fairly silent in the beginning, you were vibing in peace as the only thing you could hear was Minho’s soft indie playlist as background music.

You ultimately chose to be the one to speak first, breaking the ice with a simple inquiry about the date. “So where are we going?” Looking out at the scenery from the window, all you is trees and more trees. If it’s something to do with nature you surely don’t want any parts of it, you’ve never been too fond of the wilderness.

“It’s a surprise, I can’t tell you.” He keeps a tight seal on today’s destination without dropping a single hint, forcing you to go completely blind into this. As he goes back to focus on the road, you sigh anxiously after hearing him refuse to disclose anything.

Did he seriously forget what kind of person you are? Anyone who’s close to you at all knows you’ve never been into those types of things. Ever.

“You know I hate surprises Minho,” you remind him, attempting to pry for more information. Even shooting him a doe eyed look along with poking out your bottom lip, but he doesn’t falter.

He simply nods, “I know but you’ll like this one, just have a little bit of faith me.” Flashing an innocent smile at you, he seems to be overly confident in whatever his plan consists of.

After almost half an hour passes the car finally comes to a stop, you scan the area and instantly notice a sense of familiarity among the place. Across from you was an ice cream parlor you thought didn’t exist anymore. But there it is, still standing with dozens of customers waiting in line. The small shop was famously known for its fish-shaped ice cream cones, you’ve always wanted to visit the place and try it when you were a little from seeing it on TV all the time. When you told Minho about it, you said how your parents would say it was too far but it actually closed down and they didn’t know how to tell you. From time to time you’d still think about that place, but you would’ve never thought they relocated. Being here with Minho brings an indescribable amount of happiness to your spirit.

“I mentioned this place like one time in passing, how’d you even remember?” You wonder in amazement, after all these years he still remembers something as minuscule as this.

“It may not have seemed like it but I paid attention to every little detail you told me ___, all it. Of course I know you don’t like surprises but how else would I have been able to take you here?” He sweetly expresses to you, not wanting to hold back anymore.

You wanted to cry right here, right now. All your emotions came crashing down at once and it’s hard to keep them concealed. A lot has changed within these years, things feel so different with him now, especially with how much he’s matured. You notice how he doesn’t act like the typical fuckboy in his early 20’s anymore, he’s much more interested in getting to know only person — that being you.

“I’ve rehearsed this in my head like a million times and I don’t think I’ll ever say it the right way I want but it’s time I start being as transparent as possible with you…” Minho takes a deep breath before continuing, “I’ve always liked you ___, from the start actually,” he keeps going, “I was just scared, of what I don’t know.. Commitment maybe?”

Slightly looking in another direction, your vision faintly blurs from tears welling up, “I- I honestly don’t know what to say..”

“Then don’t say anything at all, I don’t need you to. I may not know the first thing about how to love someone, but I want to learn all of it with you.” He feels all the remorse of leaving you alone for all these years, unable to process the pain you must’ve endured at him not getting into contact with you. “I’m so sorry ___. For everything, I’m going to make it all better I promise.”

Your eyes subconsciously flutter shut when he comes in contact with you. Connecting in perfect symmetry with your lips to sync together in motion. His gentle hands cupped your face delicately; his touch was so warm and inviting. Your fingers were deeply tangled in his brunette locks, relishing every minute as he tilts his head to capture more of you. He genuinely couldn’t believe he went this long without kissing these luscious lips again. His tongue grazed the bottom of your lip to subtly ask for entry and you comply. Dopamine floods both your senses like a series of fireworks going off, feeling intoxicated by each other’s taste. It was probably that vanilla bean chapstick you always wore— an old favorite of his and is still your go-to flavor of choice. He wanted to savor you in this moment for as long as he could, cherish the fact he has you in his hold again.

“Want to know something funny?” He asks out of nowhere, still smirking from that heated kiss that just happened seconds ago.

“Hm?”

“You’re the reason I ended up coming back here.” Minho states bluntly, no hesitation detected in his voice whatsoever.

You struggle to comprehend anything, overwhelmed by all his sudden confessions. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I never want to leave your side ever again ___. I’m staying here with you, I already made the biggest mistake of losing you once I can’t let the same thing happen twice.” He spoke tenderly from the bottom of his heart, it felt so genuine you couldn’t not believe him.

Going back to rewind time isn’t possible, but “do-over’s” are, and sometimes we’re able to get those second chances to make things right when we get them wrong the first time.

[End <3].

[destinyisastar]

Lost in your Love pt 4

Read Part: 1 2 3

Summary: After the day's events Alastor decides to go visit his beloved friend to see if she has any answers.

Vox x Reader, (Alastor x Reader)

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Alastor runs his hands over the panel, fiddling with the switches, his head pulsing. He needs time to think, needs his questions answered. Anyone will do! Of all the thoughts to pass through his mind an idea is finally presented in his head.

Rosie!

Why hadn’t he thought of that before?!

With smile on his face Alastor makes his way to the wonderful cannibal town.

The emporium is full as always, the line is out the door, children sinners press their faces on the windows drooling, the women gossip while eating pinky fingers, men are chatting about nothing too interesting.

There among the crowd of people hovering over her was the delightful Rosie.

Alastor made his presence known by letting out a few static sounds.

Roise perks up her head, “Alastor? Oh, Alastor is that you?! My, my where have you been?!” Rosie stands up from her seat making her way over to him, arms ready to hug him. “Have you been eating?! You’re looking more flimsy than usual dear!” she giggles.

“I’m doing just fine my friend! I’ve just been busy with a new project!”

“Why that’s good to hear! Come sit, sit I’m sure you have much to discuss!” She brings him over to a table.

“I’m afraid I won’t be able to stay to long, I just have some questions, and I was wondering if you may be able to answer them.”

“I’ll doing anything I can my friend!” She sits in her chair, sipping her teacup.

Alastor takes a breath while he sits down, “Have you heard from my wife lately?”

Rosie spits out her tea, she begins to cough rapidly, punching her chest, “I’m sorry, but what do you mean your wife?”

“Yes, my wife, Y/n, have you spoken to her?”

“Wife? Y/n?” Rosie looks confused.

“Rosie, please do not play any games with me, I’ve brought Y/n to your emporium many times, you two always swapped books.”

“I know a Y/n, but that Y/n isn’t your wife, why I believe I would be the first to know if you had a wife!”

“Then who’s the Y/n you know?”

“Vox’s wife of course!”

Everything is still.

Still and silent.

Rosie is still talking, but Alastor hears nothing. His hands begin to claw the table. His eyes begin to turn into dials.

“Alastor?”

Vox.

Y/n.

Y/n is Vox’s wife.

Vox is Y/n’s husband.

“Alastor!!”

Alastor jolts up, “I’m sorry my dear, I’m just a bit surprised, that Y/n is married to vox...” He grits his teeth.

“Of course they’re married! They were married in life, might as well be married in hell! Oh, and they’re so cute together, you can definitely tell that Vox loves her.”

He feels like his teeth are about to break with how much he’s smiling.

Married in life?

Alastor and Y/n WERE married in life. Not Vox and Y/n.

“My dear Rosie, Y/n simply cannot be his wife… you know most of all that she is my wife.”

Rosie tilts her head, “No, she couldn’t be your wife, I would remember an such an important detail! Alastor... did you have a bit of crush on Y/n? Its understandable but you can’t go after a married woman! That wouldn’t be very gentlemanly!”

Alastor runs a hand through his hair, slightly pulling it.

He knew that Vox had feelings for his wife, he just never thought he’d have the guts to take her from him.

But that doesn’t explain why Roise doesn’t remember Y/n being his wife.

“Thank you for answering my questions my dear! Unfortunately, I must be going now!”

“Oh, Alastor I’m sorry if that wasn’t what you wanted to hear! I’m sure you’ll find someone someday!” She yells out to him as Alastor leaves the emporium.

Just what in the hell is going on?

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In your bed you lay awake thinking of the day’s events. The Radio Demon held your hand so gently. Why? Why would the demon look at you with such care? He must be scheming. Your eyes grow tired, and you feel yourself being pulled into a dream.

 A sweet tune of jazz is playing as you dance with your husband, your eyes are shut placing your head on his chest. He’s swaying you slowly as the tune comes to an end.

“I love you dearest.”

You raise your head to meet his gaze.

“I love you too Alastor.”

You immediately awaken.  You sit up in your bed, you raise your hand to your face, breathing heavily, feeling sweaty.

Alastor.

Why were you thinking of Alastor so lovingly? He’s not your husband.

You place your hand to the other side of the bed to find Vox still sleeping. You reach your hand closer to his screen, gently caressing his face. This man….is your husband.

Yes… that’s right.

Vox is your husband.

That Radio Demon must have put those ideas into your head. Holding you so lovingly, tenderly. It was just a dream… did you want to have those feelings for him? No, of course not. You loved your husband.

But the dream…. it felt so right.

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destinyisastar 2024

Hi everyone!! Uni has been kicking my butt but I'm getting through it, (I just procrastinate a lot, I'm working on it) Also some exciting news Alastor's pilot VA is coming to my local convention, and I might meet him!

Stay tuned for part 5!

wordcount: 855

Taglist: @songbirdpond @diffidentphantom @vxllys @sirens-and-moonflowers @bethanythehazbinfan @martinys-world @quinceylikesanime @sweetsaladpainterranch @killer-nightmare0 @ginny-higgins

[nc-vb]

𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐟𝐮𝐥, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐥𝐝

it is said that distance makes the heart grow fonder. instead, it only proves to make the water levels rise a few millimeters.

pairing -> neuvillette x gn!reader

warnings -> sfw, sad neuvi & reader, smooching

notes -> reader's position is a non-canon one

character mentions -> lady furina, fontaine npcs, non-canon melusine characters

wc -> 2.1k

It wasn’t so often that the paths of you and your lover could so seamlessly cross.

As one might assume, governing a nation is not a walk in the park, nor is it a part-time position. It is a twenty-four-seven, midnight-to-midnight, no-matter-how-small-the-crisis job that someone has to take responsibility for— with Monsieur Neuvillette, the Chief Justice, leading the charge of each court proceeding and Lady Furina as its grandest witness, and you, the Maison Ordalie's Directeur Général, helping them to uphold Fontaine’s values and protecting its honour from outside the marbled walls of the Opera Epiclese, Fontaine is a tightly-run ship that seldom allows for its men to enjoy much free time.

Though when it did, finally exiting the realm of your job responsibilities only then meant having to catch up on your neglected home responsibilities— tackling the towers of only partially rinsed dishes; taking out the trash you just knew would be stinking up your foyer since you’d put it there three days ago (which had been the last time you’d even been inside your home); rewashing the load of laundry you’d run out of time to hang up to dry and now was, most likely, moulding from being left in basket, still damp. Ah, and there’s probably so much more you’d been forgetting about.

This cyclic routine of yours had become nauseating a long time ago, only proving capable of transfiguring your already sour mood into something brazenly foul. Typically, there were very few things to exist that could improve it again, but the soft, muffled knocking on your front door by one of your sweet Melusine neighbours when she realized you’d finally returned home, fortunately, is one of those few things.

More often than not, she would bake once the weekend began, knowing you to be around at least long enough to be able to consume perhaps one of her newly learned confections. Somedays, you’d even been lucky enough to sit and enjoy them together whilst enjoying the views from under your shared garden’s gazebo. Being that you lived on the first floor of a three-floored pied-à-terre with three other Melusine living above you, who had also been found lucky to have much more manageable lifestyles, they often cared for the plants of the garden when you could not.

Even luckier for you, though, was having such kind neighbours that would go out of their way to take care of those aforementioned chores for you. Garden tended; garbage bags mysteriously vanished from the inside stoop; dishes sparkling clean and put away in their respective cupboards; laundry thought a lost cause having been hung up, dried, and folded, awaiting your return for them to be returned to their drawers— none of this had been you. Elsie, your second floor neighbour, had been the culprit, you learn, having rounded up her sisters Elie and Eloie two days prior to your return to surprise you.

“Have you seen Monsieur Neuvillette lately?” Elsie inquires, looking up to you from her place on your stoop. When you step aside to let her in, she shakes her head, lavender-coloured ears whipping about. “I won’t be staying. I only came to say hello and to give these to you.”

“Oh, I see,” you say, accepting the circular tin she raises toward you. Cracking it open a few inches, you smile at the soft treats. “Madeleines! Thank you, Elzie. And, to answer your question, no… I haven’t seen him lately… not even for work.”

“You’re quite welcome. Please find time to share them with the Monsieur today, then. Sedene mentioned he looked restless this morning.”

Without missing a beat, your heart skips one of its own, and your expression twists habitually guiltily. You know full well your absence from him, and vice versa, isn’t to be helped, and that the two of you have had this same conversation many times over. But it never proves to help whenever someone else points out either of your miseries.

You’d always thought the Palais Mermonia to be particularly cold, in company’s sense. It never mattered that it was always full of people, of employees, and even of Lady Furina’s raucous, nails-on-a-chalkboard cackle of a laugh, because you knew its Chief Justice much too well. In spite of his assurances that he would be alright, mind occupied by having to organize new cases and sort out the old ones, it wouldn’t be too long of a time later that you found the skies overcast, and yourself drenched by a sudden downpour.

You supposed, after saying your farewells to Elsie, locking your front door, and making your way to the other end of the Court of Fontaine, that today would be no different. Of course, you remembered to carry your parasol on you this time, accompanied by the tin of fresh-baked madeleines you promised Elsie to eat up. Today, the sky was shining blue, quite literally only minutes ago. So, either something sad or distressing has crossed his path, or, he’d been feeling sentimental again, because it’s raining again.

At the very least, you hope the cause for it to be the latter. This way, it can easily be remedied by you appearing before him, rather than him being consumed by the details of a case so heavily, and for an unspecified period of time. And there have been too many of these as of late that compared to last year’s weather, one might consider the possibility of that prophecy coming true just a little sooner.

Clutching the cookies tighter to you and keeping a firm grip on the handle of your parasol, you hasten across the bridge of the Court Region Waterway untoward the Palais Mermonia, greeting Bruneau and Liath and Plessia as you pass. The main doors are heavy, but even with your arms full, you manage to pry one of them open enough to enter the building.

You don’t both to carry your umbrella with you — it would just be yet another mess the building’s staff would have to trail after you for to clean — and instead shove it into the corner to let it drip there, telling the one guard that you would return for it, and them saluting you in acknowledgement.

Inside the Palais Mermonia has always been a plethora of people, staff and guards and visitors alike, but it is as you’d said— there’s a certain degree of emptiness to it that unsettles you whenever you visit here. Perhaps the grave amount of case files that sat in the archives surrounding Monsieur Neuvillette’s office cast such a dreary spell over the place; having been the one to compile many of them, yourself, for his records, you know firsthand just how dark some of their contents had been— to have to pass those off and share them with your lover had been your major grievance for your position. There’d been nothing you hated more than sitting in during his readings and seeing his expression change from the joy of having you appear to him, to the rage and sorrow of taking in the details of a new case. In those moments, you made sure to hold him a little tighter, a little closer, and speak just a little sweeter to him, a little softer.

The rain would, eventually, subside.

You push open the door to his office as gently as possible, and shut it just as carefully so as not to startle him. Without looking first to confirm, you know that he sits at his desk, pouring over the day’s files and records while it pours outside. His stoicism masked the obvious, though at least, this had been to you only— something was weighing heavily enough on his mind that it’d begun to affect the weather outside. Spending enough time with the man made this easy to tell.

“Neuvillette,” you softly call to him when he’d yet to look up. He jerks slightly in his seat, stiff shoulders losing their tension upon recognizing your voice, and the corner of his lips rise before his eyes can even meet yours.

“My love.”

If having you appear in a room filled with such disheartening unkindness is his relief, yours had always been the advent of a smile on Neuvillette’s face. A rare glimpse of the peace you often find yourself daydreaming over while away, the rush of pure joy you feel at the sight of your lover relishing your presence is nearly akin to the blessing of the gods— you only embrace him tightly enough and hope this feeling reaches him.

Nose pressed into the side of your head, hands and arms cradling you almost impossibly close to him, he breathes you in as deeply as physically possible— yes, his gesture promises.

You raise your chin from his chest and peer up at him, grin lazed and tired but pleased all the same.

“You were finally released from your duties?”

“If it were easy to delegate them to my juniors, it might’ve taken less time to escape,” you muse, hands sliding down his robes to claim his hands in yours— he squeezes them gently, grateful. “No one seems to know how to write a proper report anymore; I feel like I’m grading homework.” Neuvillette laments at the sudden shift in your expression, its complete opposite serving to dim the light in your eyes. By the way your grip tightens beneath his fingers, he supposes it must have little to do with your subordinates, after all.

“It’s… been raining for so long now,” you mumble into him, cookie tin forgotten atop his desk. “I tried to hurry to you, I-I…”

Neuvillette’s hand shifts along one of yours, quick to fit thin, nimble fingers in between your trembling ones. He lifts it, and presses your palm and fingertips into the smooth, porcelain coolness of his cheek— few words are found necessary, you’d both once agreed, as he’d always been a man of sterling gestures over forced sentimentality. In each glance, each touch, each curve of his lips upward, his vehemence never went unnoticed; it’d simply been his brand of love— demure and chaste, but abundant. There’d been no questioning his intention.

“I would sooner give up my position if it meant I could stay at your side at all times, if it meant you wouldn’t cry so much. If it meant you wouldn’t suffer alone.” Neuvillette sighs, a would-be defeated sound if not for remembering who he was standing with. “I… feel useless on days like these when I’m not with you.”

“Justice cannot relent so long as villainy works around the clock. It is our sworn duty to see such justice prevail, after all.” Neuvillette swipes a thumb over your lip, and subconsciously, you lean into his palm almost delightedly. “And you have done so beautifully, and without malice. Every word written in those reports from your juniors, while, written juvenilely, speak of your fairness. Your impartiality. Your ability to see both the truth and the good in all.” He turns his hand, pressing his lips into your palm. “It is admirable. It is my pride for you. It is why, as much as I wish you could stay at my side, as you said, I hope you can see the value and honour you bring in helping to protect Fontaine. I can’t imagine many else doing so well as you do.”

You raise your free hand back up to his chest, and push. A fraction of a single second is spent wide-eyed and confused until Neuvillette’s legs hit one of the many couches within the four walls of his office, and he is forced off-balanced into its plush. Your other hand gone unrelinquished, you fall with him, knees parted to either side of his and dipped deep into the cushion; Neuvillette’s breath hitches unnoticeably, yet at your sudden embolden proximity, his pale cheeks burn with vermillion.

“I’m supposed to be comforting you, you know,” your murmur.

A kiss to his temple, to the swell atop his cheek, to the button of his nose, and to the cleft of his lip— you lower yourself into his lap, parted lips dropping to slot between his and hands rising to thread into his strands of falling starlight, pulling him ever closer into you. It’s not enough, simply consuming him. You only wish to drown his sorrows, by whatever means necessary and however possible. If this means only having mere moments to appear before him, to deliver him sweets and treats of various kinds — not including yourself, of course — and holding him as tenderly as you do now for what seconds you must have left before having to leave again—

Tongue posed at his lower lip, your gaze is brought to the side and through the glass of the window. The rain. It stopped.

“And I can promise… you’re doing a fine job of it, my love.”

© nc-vb 2023 please don’t repost! reblogs & comments are always appreciated.

[uwuyangeppie]

hi this isn't really a request, i'd just like to dump some thoughts about yan!geppie :] !

thinking about what if he met his darling when they were kids. gepard was a shy and gentle kid, i bet he would be drawn to someone more tough than him or someone who could make him come out of his shell. admiration turns into a little crush (and serval of course teases him about it constantly), and it twists to something else the first time gepard sees them hurting. maybe they got into a fight, bit more than they could chew. they brushed it off as just an unserious skirmish between kids, but the sight of their bruises and scratches is engrained into little gepard's mind, and he hates it.

he couldn't wait to grow up and protect his loved ones. he doesn't forget the faces of those who inflicted injuries on his darling. someday, he'll be bigger and stronger, and he'll be able to keep them for himse protect them himself.

awww puppy love except the puppy will grow up to be a very aggressive and scary dog. so cute :3 also you know how kids will look at adults and be like “i can’t wait until i’m an adult! then i can do whatever i want!” and then they can’t because it’s adulthood? gepard is like that but he actually can do whatever he wants! just not in a good way lmfao

ALSO I THOUGHT I’D DELETED THIS AND FREAKED OUT HAHAHAHA

gepard landau has a crush on you.

from an outsider’s perspective, this was probably due to happen. you alway jump to protect others, and are made of tougher stuff than he. it happens all the time between adults, so it certainly wasn’t completely out of the question for him.

the warm smile you’re always giving him probably didn’t help either.

serval never fails to pick up on his nerves when he’s around you, and even greatly enjoys teasing him about when his words fail and he’s just stuttering through a sentence.

aww, geppie! it’s your crush! want me to go tell them you like them?!

no!

you suuuure? if i go over there, will you even be able to stop me?

serval!

i’m going, bye!

no!!

not that she ever has, yet, but he can’t risk taking that chance that she might just let it slip how much he adores you. he’s nowhere near as tough as you; you might think it’s funny or just cute, like in a younger sibling way! no way, he has to convince you that he’s not cute!

well, those were his feelings before the Incident.

it’s the first time he’s seen you lose. you sport bruises and dirt is smeared across your face, your clothes, and he swears he might be able to see it in your hair too. you brush it off, but judging by the way that the kids- the winners- opposite you are smirking, he can’t help but think it’s a bit more serious than you’re letting on.

one of the kids makes a joke at your expense.

and the feeling hits him like a truck.

it’s an emotion that a child has no business experiencing, and it’s only there for a moment, too overwhelming for his little body and brain to handle. still, he’ll remember it vividly many years in the future, the memory firmly imprinting itself into his mind. white-hot rage.

his father talks about the family lineage a lot. apparently, it’ll eventually be his job to serve the supreme guardian, as his ancestors have before him.

right now, gepard wants revenge, but if they beat you then they’ll definitely beat him. nonetheless, as his father says, he comes from a long line of strong men. that means that one day he’ll be a strong man, and he’ll ensure that nobody ever hurts you again.

[jji-lee]

Hey love , I was wondering if you could hit us with a nct dream x bridgerton short blub 💞

this is clearly not a short blurb (im so sorry) but i wanted to describe them each as suiters, i hope you still enjoy! <3

dearest readers,

last night’s ball was filled with chatter on some of this season’s fine young ladies however, one lady in particular, lady y/n bridgerton, seemed to be the belle of the ball.

the bridgerton estate was bustling with life as it hosted the most anticipated ball of the season. chandeliers set the mood as the candles adorning them cascaded a warm glow throughout the hall. the air was filled with a light scent of lilies and the sound of the live orchestra. guests were wearing their finest attire, excitement radiating off their bodies as they awaited tonight's matches.

tonight lady y/n bridgerton was a sight for sore eyes. a beauty in her long shining gown, figure defined by the lining of her handcrafted dress. her heart raced with excitement at the sight before her. this was her debut season, and she was anything but excited to have some time in the spotlight but little did she know that this season had some of the finest suitors on the market.

as she strolled around the ballroom lady y/n came across her first suitor, lord jeno lee. she had caught his eye as he spoke to some familiar guests, her smell of vanilla pulling him in. he was confident, his charming smile easily making girls weak. he lightly tapped lady y/n's shoulder hoping she would spend some time with him. as she turned she was pleasantly surprised by the figure in front of her, a tall handsome man, eyes shaped like crescent moons as he smiled wide at her. he introduced himself a light hand coming up to grasp hers. she immediately felt at ease opening up and telling him about her hobbies and interests. she felt like she had spoken for a lifetime, feeling warm as he nodded and smiled at her words, his hand never leaving hers. as she realized she had been the one speaking she blushed softly asking lord jeno what his interest were. but as he opened his mouth to speak a charming fellow approached them ready to steal her away.

"may i? lady y/n is not yet taken by you i assume?" lord jeno was all too kind allowing you to spend some time with your next suitor. you soon discovered he was duke of ashford, haechan lee, notorious for throwing the best balls and well, secret after parties. he ducked his head down as he brought your hand up to his lips. you flinched at the contact slightly tugging your hand away, but his grip only became stronger, a grin growing on his stupidly handsome face. "you're the talk of the ball tonight lady y/n, might i add your mother did a beautiful job decorating this place." you smiled at the compliment towards your mother, swayed by the idea that he had kept her in mind, "that is a great compliment coming from you duke, maybe you can invite me to a ball of your own someday?" he pulled her near as he got close enough to whisper, "you do know what goes on in my balls don't you m'lady, if that is the type of entertainment you seek, then just let me know now, i’ll have everything ready for you." he gave her hand one final kiss and danced away, proud that he left her red and flustered.

a cold touch jolted her out of her shocked state, as she turned to see the owner of this touch her eyes widened upon seeing the one and only lord renjun huang. he had pushed a cold glass into her arm to catch her attention, "excuse me, m'lady you were looking a bit hot, would you care for a drink?" she was relieved by the sudden change of demeanor between the men feeling comfort as she reached for the glass and muttered out a small thanks. "i'm surprised to see you here my lord, i hear you never come out to these sort of events." he blushed at your comment, knowing of the rumors of him being 'forever in solitude.' "yes, well, i saw someone this season who has caught my eye, maybe she will be the one to dismiss these rumors." she giggled at his comment knowing he was clearly talking about her, she was flattered that she was the one to finally get him to come to a ball. as their drinks emptied lady y/n excused herself to the ladies room to fix up her fading lip tint. as she walked through the ball she heard a familiar voice call her name…

a tall figure pushed through the crowd of guests hand in the air to stop her, “y/n, oh excuse me, y/n, pardon me, lady y/n, oh will you get out of my way” she stopped to see who was causing this disturbance. finally the man reached her, mumbling under his breath something about an annoying duke that needs to learn manners. “y/n i requested they play our song, let me have this dance?” lady y/n’s long time best friend lord chenle lee stuck his hand out awaiting her answer. she giggled at his disheveled appearance, he’d never been one to dress up for these kinds of occasions, and accepted his dance. he pulled her into the dancing crowd a familiar up beat tune playing. some would think they were long lost lovers finding each other again as they laughed, swayed, and twirled around the ballroom. but do not be fooled my dear reader, this lord seemed to be a temporary distraction for sweet lady y/n as she was seen shortly after with someone else to fill her cup…

as she caught her breath, a small smile still resting on her face, she heard a small voice behind her, “care for a refill m’lady?” she turned to see a very tall dark haired boy standing in front of her, he was dressed in all black a towel draped over his forearm, hands holding a bottle ready to refill her cup. as he looked up at her through his bangs she saw his features, a beautiful nose and lips adorning his face, “can i ask your name? lord…?” he quickly put the bottle down to wave his hands dismissively, “ no no, not lord, just jisung, jisung park, your mother hired me for this event” she smiled warmly at him causing his shoulders to relax and a light blush to form on his cheeks. “my mother has fine taste in bottle servers then” she held her glass out to him and giggled as he scrambled to pick up the bottle and pour the fizzy liquid into her glass. she gave him a light wink and walked out to get some fresh air in the garden.

as she wandered deeper into the large maze of a garden she began to hear distant giggling, as she continued to walk the sound grew louder. when she took a right turn she was greeted by a pair of strangers intertwined with one another. she gasped, quickly turning, well as quickly as her gown allowed, to shield her eyes from what was occurring in front of her. she heard the male laugh and the bushes rustle which she assumed was the girl running off, not wanting lady y/n to recognize her. lady y/n cleared her throat, “are you decent?” the male laughed again humming in approval. as she turned to see who this frisky male was she was met with a bare chest in front of her, buttons undone. she quickly put her hands over her eyes, “i asked if you were decent!” she felt his hands tug hers down. she looked up to avoid eye contact with his chest and was met with the beautiful face of duke jaemin na, this season’s biggest playboy, his sparkly teeth on display, “well hello there pretty lady, are you lost?” she backed away from him afraid she’d fall into his trap, “duke i actually am not lost, i will be finding my way out immediately!” she turned to exit the maze, hoping some magical force would guide her out. and unsurprisingly the duke followed behind her pestering her with questions from “what do you do on your free time?” to “have you ever been intimate with yourself?” she tried to ignore him, only answering the appropriate questions until she finally escaped the maze leaving him behind calling after her.

she finally thought the night was over and rushed to her mother’s side to find some peace, however, her mother had other plans. “my sweet girl, come, come!” she ushered her over, “i’d like you to meet sir mark lee!” a gentle looking man stood next to her reaching his hand out to lady y/n. as she took his hand he gave it a kiss and pulled her away from her mother to talk. “i’m sorry about all that, it’s getting late, i’m sure you’ve had a long night of suitors rushing your way” she smiled at him grateful that he acknowledged her struggle, “no worries sir, your company is welcomed, after everything i’ve been through your presence is soothing” he gave her a small smile before asking lady y/n to recount her night, giving her loud and exaggerated reactions to the stories, causing her to laugh at his expressions. they seemed to hit it off well, finding comfort in the others words.

the night seemed to end too early for lady y/n bridgerton, but it seemed she had done more than enough work for herself this season, as the next morning she was greeted by seven handsome men wanting to speak with her. now it is far too early to say which man has infiltrated the heart of our darling lady y/n. but patience my dear reader for tomorrow is right around the corner.

yours truly,

lady whistledown

[supernaturalscribe67]

Just Like Mama Used to Make

Words: 6,178

POV: 1st & 3rd Person

Pairing: John x Son!Reader - Dean/Sam x Brother!Reader [Platonic]

Warning(s): Language, John Winchester, Fluff, Mention of Childhood Trauma, Mention of Death, I think that's it??

Summary: Taking inspiration from his father, the reader starts his very own journal. For his first entry, he recalls some of the memories that shaped him into the hunter that he has become.

Request:

Hello, hope you are having a good day/night

I was wondering if I could request John/Dean/Sam Winchester reaction to having a brother who looks like their mother and picked up hunting like breathing?

@xweirdo101x

A/N: My very first request! It kind of got away from me, but I really hope that I was able to do your request justice. Hope you like it!~

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

Hello

Hey!

Dear Diary

SEPTEMBER 2014

To be honest, I have no idea how to start something like this. I was never one for writing, nor have I been one who can easily express my emotions. I guess I got that trait from the Winchester side of my family. Still, I have thought a lot about Dad’s journal lately. The things that he wrote down. It’s not detailed. It’s nowhere near what it was like growing up with him, but it still provides Dean, Sammy, and me with some information and nostalgia from time to time.

So, I figured ‘Why the Hell not’, I might as well write down some things in my own journal. I’m going to die someday anyway, and I want people to read this and be able to see what my life was like. From the good times that I spent with my family to the bad times when I lost my family. Hell, maybe this journal will get me into a history book someday when someone else discovers the Men of Letters Bunker. Who knows. Maybe I’ll be famous after I die, or perhaps it’s just wishful thinking. 

This journal has already turned into a clusterfuck. I don’t even know what to write about. I can’t even think of things to write about. Should I say things about my life? Should I just write down random things I think of throughout the day? I don’t know how to do it. Even when I look at Dad’s journal for inspiration, there’s nothing to inspire in it. A lot of it is notes on how to kill monsters and other stuff is just a bunch of personal bullshit he was going through. 

Well, we were all going through it.

I guess I’ll start by writing down some of the memories I’ve had. If I don’t like it, then I’ll throw this journal away and start another one. I don’t want future historians to think of me as some scatterbrained moron, despite what Sammy and Dean say at times. If you’re reading this now, I’m actually the smartest Winchester brother. Don’t believe a thing Sam and Dean say. I’m the brains of the operations and our day-to-day lives. I’ve saved them more times than I could count. 

Then again, they’ve probably saved me just as much. 

Alright, I’m getting side-tracked. I guess I’ll just start writing. 

Should I introduce myself first before I do so? 

My name is (Y/N) Winchester. I’m a hunter. 

This is my story (God, that was terrible)

AUGUST 1991

I remember the first time I mentioned to my father that I wanted to be a hunter, just like him. I was six years old. Dad didn’t take it very kindly. He yelled, a lot. Screamed sometimes. I never truly understood why he would always get so upset whenever I would ask him to teach me how to hunt. 

It wasn’t until I was a man that I understood why. 

I look just like my mother. 

I don’t know how I could have been so blind all those years. I have her hair. I have her face. I have her smile. All of these things have been said by my father before. Not necessarily when he was sober. I was always the one person that reminded my Dad of his wife. Of my mother. I think a part of him wanted to keep me safe, just so he could always look at me and remember what she looked like. Even when I was a child, though, I could see the hurt behind his eyes every once in a while when he would look at me. It made me feel guilty. 

Still does. 

I know that none of it is my fault, that he made himself hurt. 

Still… 

For months, I would ask my Dad to teach me about hunting. To teach me about the monsters that crept through the darkness. Each time I asked, he would reject my request and I would get scolded for asking such a stupid question. 

So, one night, around the age of seven or eight (one of the two, I can’t remember exactly), I decided that school wasn’t very important. There were occasions when I snuck out of classes to go to the library of whatever town we were in at the time to search the limited amount of lore books that they had. There were times when I got caught by Dean before I was able to sneak out. Other times it was by Sammy. Sometimes, my father would get a call from the school because I had been reported missing. 

I was a problem child, as you could tell. 

It’s not that I hated school. 

It just wasn’t my favorite. 

And I wanted to hunt. 

So, anyway…from town to town, I would skip class, go to the library, and learn everything that I could learn about hunting if there was anything to learn. Sometimes, I would ask Dean questions. Sometimes he would answer, other times he told me to not worry about it and to mind my own business. It used to hurt whenever Dean would reject any of the questions that I would ask, but I know now that it was so he didn’t get in trouble with Dad. I remember giving him a hard time about it, about not answering me. Dean, if you’re reading this, I’m sorry for being a jerk. 

Then again, Dean, if you’re reading this, you shouldn’t be reading this and expect some glitter to appear in your body wash. 

No one knew about my secret research. No one knew the reason behind my skipping classes. I would constantly make up lies, most of them being about how much I hated moving around and just wanted to rebel against my father. Typical kid stuff. 

It wasn’t until August of 1991, when I was ten years old, that I was finally able to put that research to use.

(Y/N) stared down at the paper that rested on a notebook in his lap. His eyes were wide and filled with stress, fingers tangled in his short hair, his back slouched ever so slightly. Dean sat a couple of inches away from him near the end of the bed, his homework in his lap, while Sam leaned against the headboard, a book in his hands that he had gotten from the school library. Dean looked up from his work, noticing the look of despair on his brother’s face before he glanced down at his worksheet. Dean grimaced and let out a hiss. 

“Multiplying fractions?” He asked, a hint of sympathy in his tone. 

Without looking up, (Y/N) gave a short nod. Dean pressed his lips together in a thin line before he set his pencil down beside him. 

“Do you need help?” Dean offered. 

(Y/N) lifted his head and looked at his older brother, giving a small, soundless nod. Dean offered a smile as he moved closer to him so that they were sitting next to one another. Dean craned his neck to be able to look at the paper, tilting his head as he studied the equations. 

“Which one are you having problems with?” He asked. 

“All of them,” (Y/N) answered. 

Dean snorted. “Okay, so, it’s easy-” 

“Wow, Dean thinks math is easy?” Sam mumbled, a smirk playing on his lips. 

Dean lifted his head and glared at Sam. “Shut up, bitch,” 

Sam shot a bitch-face towards Dean. “You shut up, jerk,” he retorted. 

(Y/N) let out a frustrated grunt. “Will both of you assholes shut up!? I don’t understand this!” His voice was filled with annoyance and desperation. 

Dean and Sam shot their brother a look. Sam rolled his eyes as he returned to the book. Dean looked back down at the paper, mumbling an apology under his breath. He then began to help (Y/N) with his homework, walking him through all of the problems that he had. (Y/N) still felt as if Dean was speaking in a foreign language, but he could understand the homework a little easier. 

When the paper was halfway finished, the door to the motel room suddenly burst open, causing the three brothers to jump, their eyes wide as they turned and looked at the person who had just entered. John stormed into the room, slamming the door behind him. He stomped over to the couch that sat in front of the small television set and plopped down on it. He ran his hands down his face and let a small growl emit from his throat. 

Dean, Sam, and (Y/N) shared a glance, almost as if they were communicating telepathically. After a while, Dean and Sam both turned their attention toward their brother, their eyes locked on his. After looking back and forth between the two, (Y/N) let out a soundless sigh as he set his homework beside him. He moved off of the bed and padded across the aged carpet to the couch. Slowly, he walked around the sofa so that he could see his father. 

John looked tired. Dark circles were prominent underneath his eyes. One of his legs was propped up on the couch while the other lay bent in front of him. His elbow rested on the arm of the sofa, his cheek placed against his right hand as he stared at the television in front of him. Nothing played. When (Y/N) came into view, John glanced at him out of the corner of his eye for a brief moment. He said nothing. 

“Hey, Dad,” (Y/N) greeted. “Um…how were the, uh, interviews with the victims’ families?” 

John shook his head. “Not great, kid,” he grumbled. 

“No?” 

“No.” 

As (Y/N) stared at his father, he timidly moved over to the couch. John hesitantly moved his leg as (Y/N) sat down next to him. 

“Did you…learn anything?” 

“Why aren’t you boys in bed?” John grunted. 

“We’re finishing our homework.” 

“Then shouldn’t you be working on it?”

(Y/N)’s shoulders slouched. “I just…wanted to see how it went is all…” 

“You want to know how it went?” John’s voice got deeper. “You really want to know how it went? Fucking terrible. That’s how it went,” John straightened himself out on the couch before he stood up. He began to pace around the room, his tone of voice getting more and more irritable. “I thought I had a good fucking lead going. All of the victims went to the same fucking bookstore a couple of days before their deaths and got the same book. Seems like a fucking coincidence, right? Then I go to the goddamn bookstore to see what the book was and all it was was something called Aradia or some shit like that. Some type of foreign book bullshit, I don’t fucking know.” 

(Y/N) furrowed his brows as John continued to rant. He looked down and away from his father. He got lost, deep in thought, the words that John was speaking irrelevant to him now. Finally, he turned back to him, kneeling on the couch as he raised his brows. 

“Did you say Aradia?” He questioned in the middle of John’s rant. 

John stopped pacing around the room as he looked back at (Y/N). Dean and Sam’s attention immediately turned to him, their eyes wide. John’s jaw was clenched, the anger and irritation still emanating from him. “Yeah,” he replied deeply. 

“Aradia…” (Y/N) trailed before he shook his head. “That’s not a foreign book, Dad! That’s only the first half of the title. The full title is Aradia or the Gospel of the Witches. It was one of the most influential pieces of literature in the nineteenth century to witches! You’re dealing with a witch!” (Y/N)’s eyes widened as a smile appeared on his face. 

John’s expression went from furious to confusion. He narrowed his eyes. “How do you know about that book?” He questioned. 

“I read about it in a library a little bit ago.” (Y/N) answered quickly. 

John pressed his tongue into his cheek as he slowly nodded his head. He looked at Sam and Dean, who were still staring with wide eyes at their brother, and then back at (Y/N). He ran a hand down his face stressfully. 

“You boys finish your homework,” he mumbled as he walked towards the door. “I have to make a call.” 

Without allowing anyone to respond, John left the motel room, closing the door behind him a little gentler than when he entered. (Y/N)’s smile faded as he watched his father leave, his shoulders dropping. The three brothers sat in silence for a minute before they looked at one another. 

“Come on,” Dean said as he patted the spot on the bed next to him. “Let’s finish these math problems.” 

Even though Dad never told me, I knew I was right. I knew it was a witch that he had dealt with. We didn’t even get to go to school the next day. He had found and killed her before I was able to turn in that math homework. What a waste of time. 

I would like to think that Dad was proud of me in that situation, but he never said anything. He never brought it up again as far as I can remember. It was something that he had put in the past, along with all of the other hunts that we had been on. However, even if he wasn’t proud of me back then, I was proud of myself. Proud that I was able to help my Dad even if I wasn’t beside him when he took that bitch down. 

God, I hate witches. 

MAY 1993

I didn’t touch a gun until I was twelve years old. By that point, I had stopped begging Dad to teach me how to hunt, because it seemed that the only answer I was going to be getting was ‘No’. I figured that I would go to the next best person for the job. 

I had to ask Dean. 

Dean was very protective of Sammy and me when we were younger. He still is super protective of us, even in our ripe old ages. But because of how protective he could get, he was very hesitant about teaching me how to shoot a gun. However, with Dad talking about Dean going on hunts with him more and more by then, I knew that I would be left alone with Sammy. I used the excuse that I needed to learn how to shoot a gun eventually so that I could protect the two of us when we were by ourselves. I couldn’t be expected to be safe when the only two people who knew how to shoot were away. 

That reasoning caught Dean’s attention. 

After the fifth or sixth time asking him, Dean had finally agreed. A couple of days passed and, when Dad was a couple of towns away gathering information for a hunt, Dean and I skipped school. Shocking, right? I think Dean used the excuse that I hadn’t been feeling well and he had to take care of me. He even wrote out a fake doctor’s note and everything. Back then, you could get away with a handwritten note. I’m not too sure if you could now. 

Once Sammy had been dropped off at school that day, Dean and I walked to a creek a couple of miles away from the school. He had set up a couple of cans on a log, some recycled stuff that he had picked up along the way. He had brought one of Dad’s small handguns with him. When he gave it to me, it felt so surreal. So different. 

I never really understood what the big fuss was about, though. 

Shooting a gun was easy. 

“No, you can’t have your hand that low! You have it that low and the gun is going to come out of your hand when you shoot it,” Dean grumbled. 

Dean took (Y/N)’s hand in his and adjusted it so that it fits perfectly onto the grip of the handgun. He then took his other hand and placed it on top of the one that was already on the gun. (Y/N) furrowed his brows as he looked at the way his hands nestled against one another. 

“This doesn’t feel right.” He said. “Why can’t I just hold it with one hand like the cops do in the movies?” 

“Because you’re twelve, dummy. You’re not in your forties and have years of experience under your belt,” Dean rolled his eyes. “And that is exactly how you should hold it if you don’t want to get hit in the face with your weapon after you fire it.” 

(Y/N) listened intently to what his brother was saying, giving him a small nod before he straightened his back up. 

“Stop.” Dean held up a hand. 

(Y/N) shot Dean a confused look. “What?” 

“You’re standing wrong.” 

“I’m standing wrong…” 

“Yeah, here,” Dean walked over, pressing his hand against the top of (Y/N)’s back ever so slightly, leaning him forward. “If you have your back too straight, then you’re more likely to fall backward. You also,” Dean kicked (Y/N)’s feet apart. “Need to have your feet apart. Keeps you more ground.”

(Y/N) looked down at the ground for a moment, taking in the appearance and feel of his stance. The way his back leaned forward and the way his legs were spread. He nodded. 

“Okay, now I shoot?” 

“Is your safety off?” 

“Safety?” 

Dean sighed, moving back over to him. He took the gun from (Y/N)’s grasp and flashed the left side of the gun. “You see this little trigger?” When Dean received a nod from his brother, he continued. “If it’s facing side-to-side, that means the safety is on. That means the gun won’t fire. All you have to do is flick this little switch,” Dean turned the safety off. “Once it’s up and down, then that means it’s ready to fire.” He handed the gun back to (Y/N). “Now, get back into position.” 

(Y/N) glanced down at the safety mechanism on the gun for a moment before he nodded. He got back into the position that he was in, spreading his legs apart the same length Dean had and slouching his back forward ever so slightly. Once he received a nod of approval from Dean, (Y/N) lifted his arms, cocking his head to the side. He aimed at the can farthest to the left. He closed his left eye and placed his finger on the trigger. 

“Stop!” Dean said more abruptly. 

(Y/N) jumped and moved his finger off the trigger, standing up straighter to face Dean. “What!?” He asked exasperatedly. 

Dean shook his head. “You can’t have one eye closed.” 

“Why not? Snipers do it!” 

“Because snipers are far enough away from combat. They need to look through a scope to get a good shot. You, on the other hand, are feet away from whatever monster you’re dealing with. What happens when you’re facing more than one monster? You leave yourself open to being taken out on your left.” Dean’s tone was stern, yet calm. His arms were crossed over his chest. 

Slowly, (Y/N) nodded as he grasped an understanding of Dean’s thinking. “Both eyes open?” 

“Both eyes open.” Dean backed up a bit. “Back into position.” 

(Y/N) let out a shaky breath before resuming his position. Legs spread, back bent, arms up, head tilted, both eyes open. His goal was to hit the used can of peaches that sat on the outside of the log. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest from anxiousness and anticipation. He was surprised the gun wasn’t shaking in his grasp. 

His eyes were on the cartoon peaches that were etched onto the label of the can. More specifically, the pit that sat in the center of the peach. He wanted to hit the pit. He never moved his eyes from the pit as he took a deep breath, his shoulders rising. Finally, as he exhaled, his shoulders dropping, he pulled the trigger. 

The can flew into the air and seemed to dramatically and unceremoniously fall into the creek. A small splash echoed in (Y/N)’s ears, accompanied by the ringing of the gunshot. 

One thing that (Y/N) noted was that his hands ached, both from the vice grip he had on the gun and the recoil that he hadn’t expected. Sure, Dean had informed him about it before, but he wasn’t sure how it would feel. His hands would definitely bruise. 

(Y/N) lowered the gun, looking over at his brother to see that Dean wore a stunned expression on his face. Dean’s mouth hung open as his eyes were glued to the can that lay in the flowing water. (Y/N) watched in silence as Dean walked over to the can. He reached down and picked it up by the opening, wincing from the heat of the bullet hole before he swapped hands. He studied the can. It seemed like too much time had passed before he turned the can so (Y/N) could see. 

(Y/N) had gotten it on his first try. 

The bullet hole? 

Right in the pit. 

(Y/N) raised his brows, a mixture of pride and surprise coursing through him. A wide smile appeared on his face. Similarly, a smirk appeared on Dean’s lips. Dean chuckled before he tossed the can into the water. 

“Beginner’s luck,” he said, brushing his hands onto his jeans. “Let’s see if you can hit the other ones.” 

I shot through the rest of the cans, the same as I had done for that can of peaches. Not to toot my own horn, but I was a natural when it came to a pistol. I don’t mean to sound egotistic about this, but Dean can back up any statement that I’m making about this story. 

I could tell that Dean was proud of me that day. He never said he was, but the way he looked at me and the way he treated me afterward told me things that words couldn’t. It’s hard to describe, but it almost felt like he had gained some respect for me that day. It felt good. Even as I am writing about this story, I can’t keep the smile off my face. I always looked up at Dean, so it feels great to think that I had done something to bring a smile to his stupid face. 

My hands hurt like hell after it was all said and done. I had gotten a couple of bruises near the thumb on my right hand that I brushed off to my Dad as something that I had picked up when I got into a fight at school. Dean had backed me up when Dad got on my ass about it. Dad told me that I had to get along with the other kids so I didn’t give the wrong impression at the schools I went to. It wasn’t like they would remember me anyway. Of course, I didn’t tell him that. I knew when to bite my tongue. 

Dad never found out about the shooting practice. I get a feeling that he had a sneaking suspicion as soon as he took me to practice himself years later, but I never told him about it. I never told him that Dean had been the one to teach me how to stand correctly, or where to find the safety of a gun. I know that he knew it was Dean. A part of me wonders if Dean ever got in trouble for it, or if it was something that Dad even brought up. I would never ask Dean about it now, though. 

Some things are best to be left in the past.

 

NOVEMBER 1999

By the time I turned eighteen, I had already been on several hunts with Dad and Dean. The majority of the time, though, I would stay back and watch Sammy. Even though he was a teenager and had the capability of taking care of himself, Dad expressed that he was still a kid and needed to be looked after. A part of me thought it was bullshit at the time, but another part of me was glad that I was able to spend time with my younger brother. 

Now, I know the real reason behind my staying with Sammy was because some of the hunts that Dad and Dean went on were ‘rough’. A little ‘too hard’ for me. 

Dad didn’t want to lose the son that reminded him of his wife. 

At least, that was what Dean told me, and I believe him. 

It was a blessing and a curse, come to think of it. There were times that I stayed behind and Dad called me up, needing me to do some research for the case that they were working on. He had said it would be faster if someone was working on the research while he and Dean were out taking interviews. In the end, it was more efficient. I would gather the necessary information and hand it off to him and they would be back at the motel a lot quicker than if they had been the ones to look up the information. 

That was the system that we worked with for a while. After a couple of months, Dad informed me that he didn’t want me to do the research anymore. He wanted Sammy to be the one to do it. I remember him saying that Sammy needed to focus more on the hunting aspect of his life. That school was just a waste of time at that point. He was old enough to get into it. 

Sammy hated the idea when I told him. He loved school. He was always such a nerd. Still is. An even bigger nerd if you can believe it. I knew how much school meant to him, and I didn’t want him to be discouraged from doing his schoolwork. He shouldn’t have been forced to do anything that he didn’t want to. So, I decided that I was going to do the research and just tell Dad that he had been the one to do it. Sammy was thankful. 

That was until Dad called. 

Dad wasn't as stupid as I took him for most of the time. He knew that Sammy hadn’t done any of the research, that I was the one that did it all. By the time he and Dean got back, he gave Sammy a verbal lashing. I tried to defend him, but nothing worked. In the end, Sammy gave in. He would do the research for the next hunt. 

Like clockwork, when the next hunt rolled around, with Sammy and I staying back at the motel, Dad had called. He had given Sammy the information that he needed to research and we headed off to the local library. Once we got the necessary books, we took them back to the motel and he began to work. 

I could tell that it wasn’t going well.

Sam sat at the small table near the motel room door, two books placed in front of him. His back was slouched as he looked from one book to another, flipping through pages frantically. He had been going at it for several hours by then, evident by the bags that were present underneath his eyes and the redness around his pupils. (Y/N) sat on the couch, watching some old western show. Now and then he would look at his little brother. He could see how tired and stressed he was about the entire situation. (Y/N) had never seen Sam that stressed out before, even when he was studying for a test in one of his AP classes. 

Eventually, Sam pressed the palms of his hands against his eyes, lowering his head, as if accepting defeat. (Y/N) studied his movements, and, after he saw that he had not moved in a while, he decided the best thing to do was to help him out. He picked up the remote and turned off the television before tossing it aside. He stood from his spot on the couch and walked over to the table. He grabbed the spare chair, pulled it beside Sam, and sat down. 

“Having some trouble?” He questioned. 

Sam’s shoulders rose and fell as a sigh escaped his lips. He removed his hands from his face and placed them into his lengthy hair. His eyes were cast down towards the table. He stayed in the same position for some time before he looked up at (Y/N). 

“No,” he answered, pulling the books towards him. “I’m fine.” 

“You don’t look fine.” 

“I said ‘I’m fine’,” Sam repeated through gritted teeth. 

(Y/N) studied him with an expressionless face. Sam kept his eyes down, looking from one book to another. (Y/N) was able to see the stress that was emitted from his brother even better with how close he was sitting. He took one look at the books before he shook his head. 

“I’m sorry Dad’s making you do this.” 

“It’s fine.” 

“No, it’s not. You shouldn’t be doing this alone the first time…” he trailed. “But if Dad found out I helped you-” 

“You’d get in trouble, and so would I. Yeah, I know.” 

(Y/N) pursed his lips. “You know, it took me a little over a year to get comfortable with translating Latin. I sometimes screw up from time to time.” 

“Still?” 

“Yeah, still,” he chuckled. “That’s why I got something that helps me out now and again.” 

With that, (Y/N) stood from his spot on the chair and waltzed over to the bed in the far corner of the room. Beside the bed sat his black duffel bag. He picked it up and placed it on the bed. He began to rummage through it, sorting through clothes and weapons that rested at the bottom. Wedged into the corner of his bag sat a book. He picked it up and brought it over to the table. He took a seat next to Sam once more and placed the book in front of him. 

Sam furrowed his brows as he studied the cover. It was a Latin-English translation book. It looked rather similar to the one that he had picked up at the library. The only difference was the color of the cover was a little faded and, along the outside of the book, between all of the pages, were multi-colored Post-it notes. Each Post-it note had different letter combinations on it, as well as notes written on some of them. Sam opened the cover and he raised his brows when he saw that the first page was replaced by a notebook-sized piece of paper, taped to the front page. There were multiple words in English on the left side with their corresponding Latin translation on the right. 

“What’s this?” Sam asked. 

“It’s a translation book I picked up a couple of years back at a bookstore. I figured since there were going to be a lot of things that needed translating, then I was going to have to make it easier for myself to find the words. The only problem is that most of these translation books are so damn compressed that it’s hard to find certain words without getting blurry vision. So, I took the liberty to mark down all of the times when the letters change in the words. For example, when the words that start with ‘AB’ transfer to words that start with ‘AC’. It always made it easier to find. Plus, I made a page at the beginning about common words that I have found in my research so that it would be easier to translate them.” 

As (Y/N) explained, he gestured with his hand toward the book. Sam listened intently, taking in all of the information that he was given, nodding his head. Once (Y/N) was done talking, Sam looked down at the book and then back up at him. 

“You did all this?” 

“Yeah,” (Y/N) chuckled. “Crazy, right?” 

Sam snorted. “Yeah. Wish you put that much effort into your homework when you were still in school.” 

“Hey,” (Y/N) leaned back in his chair and lifted his hands in mock surrender. “School was fine and all, but this is something I enjoy, and I’m good at it. I’m good at hunting research and you’re good in school.” 

“And what’s Dean good at?” 

“Being a pain in the ass.” 

Sam smiled widely, his dimples more prominent than (Y/N) had seen in a while. After a beat or two of silence, the smile faded as he looked down.

“I wish Dad could see that I’m good at school.” 

The corner of (Y/N)’s mouth curved downward. It was his turn to look down at the table. He reached over and placed a hand on Sam’s shoulder comfortingly. “I know, kiddo,” he mumbled. “But Dean and I both see how much of a nerd you are. Don’t worry.” 

A smile returned to Sam’s face, but it wasn’t as happy as the last one. They sat in silence for a little bit before (Y/N) lowered his hand and Sam moved back to the books. 

“You got it from here?” (Y/N) questioned. 

“Yeah, I got it,” 

“Great,” (Y/N) said as he stood from his seat and patted Sam on the back. “Call me over if you need anything.” 

“Yeah, I’ll make sure to call you over when I get to the part about multiplying fractions.” 

(Y/N) glared at Sam and crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re never going to let that go, are you?” 

“No, no I’m not.” 

Sammy still teases me to this day about not knowing how to multiply fractions. Even though it was decades ago at this point, he still likes to tease me about it. Little shit. 

With my help, Sammy was able to get the translations done a lot faster than he expected. I remember seeing the relief on his face when he had finished. Poor kid was so exhausted. Dad was more than pleased when he called and asked about it. Dad never found out that I had helped him out a bit, and neither Sammy nor I were planning on telling him. I just wanted Sammy to have an easier time than I did when I was first learning about research, specifically translations. 

In the end, I would have to say that Sammy is better than me when it comes to research. He’s taken the reigns on many different hunts because of how proficient he is with technology. I’m good with old-fashioned ways of research, but Sammy’s the nerd when it comes to computers. 

Sammy has told me once or twice, though, that I was the one that helped him the most when it came to his knowledge of research. That, without my help, he wouldn’t have been as good at it as he is now. 

I call bullshit. Sammy has always been a smart kid. 

He could do anything he put his mind to. 

SEPTEMBER 2014

This is all I can write at the moment. Dean called me to the kitchen a couple of minutes ago saying that dinner was ready. I need to wrap this up before he or Sammy comes in here and sees what I’m doing. I know that I would get endlessly teased about keeping a ‘diary’. I need to make sure to hide this in a good enough place where neither of them will find it if they go snooping through my room. 

Sam, Dean, if you guys are reading this, I’ll get you back. 

But if you’re going to read it, I just want to let you know that I love you guys. 

Not that I’m into chick-flick moments or anything. 

I’m just glad that I have you guys as my brothers. No one could ask for a better family than you two. 

Okay, that was cheesy. I wish I wasn’t writing this in pen so I could erase it. 

Dammit. 

I’m not too sure how to end this, so I guess I’ll just write again sometime when I can. Perhaps I could do like Dad did in his journal and write about all of the new monsters we have discovered over the years. Or maybe write more memories down. This journal is going to be so cluttered that no one is going to want to read it. There’s no way I’m going to get famous from this. 

Dean just called me to the kitchen again. 

Until next time. 

Happy hunting. (That was stupid, think of something better).

WE LOVE YOU TOO - SAM + DEAN

[multi-fandoms-posts]

Someday

X Men Masterlist

X Men Masterlist 2

Inspired by my favorite song: "Someday" (Meg Donnelly and Milo Manheim)

It’s a cozy evening on the grounds of Xavier’s School. Erik Lehnsherr and Y/N are walking through the garden, arms wrapped around each other. The stars twinkle in the sky, and there’s an unusual calmness in the air. Y/N hums softly to herself as she walks beside Erik, his arms protectively around her.

Suddenly, Erik stops, pulls Y/N closer, and begins to sing softly:

Erik: "I know it might be crazy, but did you hear the story?"

Y/N looks up at him, surprised but with a gentle smile. She softly sings back:

Y/N: "I think I heard it vaguely…"

Erik smiles, his gaze full of affection, and continues, singing the words with an ease that’s unusual for him:

Erik: "A girl and a mutant…"

Y/N chuckles softly and leans closer into him before singing her line:

Y/N: "Oh, tell me more, boy, sounds like a fantasy…"

They look deeply into each other’s eyes and sing together:

Both: "What could be so wrong with a girl and a mutant?"

Erik holds Y/N even tighter and sings the next line:

Erik: "You're from the perfect paradise, and I'm living on the dark side…"

Y/N gazes at him tenderly and sings back:

Y/N: "Oh, I've got a feeling, if you get to know me…"

Erik smiles lightly, his eyes shining as he continues:

Erik: "Right from the start, you caught my eye, something inside me came to life…"

Y/N sings softly, almost dreamily:

Y/N: "Ooh, I've got a feeling…"

Then they sing together, their voices harmonizing perfectly:

Both: "If you get to know me… Someday…"

Y/N looks into the distance and sings with a hint of hope:

Y/N: "This could be, this could be ordinary…"

Then they join together once more:

Both: "Someday…"

Y/N smiles lovingly at him and sings:

Y/N: "Could we be something extraordinary?"

Erik rests his forehead against hers as they continue singing:

Both: "You and me, side by side, out in the broad daylight… If they laugh, we'll say, 'We're gonna be someday.'"

In the background, far enough away not to be heard, Charles Xavier and Raven Darkholme observe the unusual duet. Raven tilts her head, a curious smile on her lips.

Raven smirks and whispers to Charles, "Tell me, have they taken something I don’t know about?"

Charles, looking equally amused, breaks into a warm laugh.

"I wish it were that simple to explain," he replies, still chuckling. "But no, Raven. That’s just… well, Erik, as you’ve never seen him before."

Raven raises an eyebrow, glancing back at Erik, who is now holding Y/N even closer as they hum softly together.

"Erik Lehnsherr," Raven says with mock seriousness, "the man who can control bridges and tear apart tanks, is singing a duet in the garden. Happily. This is definitely the strangest day of my life."

Charles laughs again and shakes his head lightly. "I admit, it’s unusual. But maybe it’s exactly what we all need."

Raven rolls her eyes and grins broadly. "You realize what this means, right? The next time I’m in the kitchen, and Erik starts singing… there’s really no going back."

Charles smiles, but then grows thoughtful. "Love changes people, Raven. Even someone like Erik."

Raven nudges Charles playfully with her elbow. "I get that. But honestly, I never thought ‘singing Erik’ would be part of that change."

Charles can’t hide the smile on his lips. "Just wait until he starts baking cookies."

Raven bursts out laughing and shakes her head in disbelief. "Erik Lehnsherr, singing and baking cookies? That’ll make history."

She takes one last look at Erik and Y/N, who still seem to be in their own little world, the music they share filling the air.

"Well, as long as they’re happy…," Raven finally says, still slightly amused.

Charles nods, his gaze thoughtful yet warm. "Yes. And if it helps us all find peace, then so be it."

With one last glance at the two, Charles and Raven turn and head back into the building.

[fortisfilia]

Promised Part 2 - Tom Riddle x reader

Info: This is a rewrite of a story I've posted on my old account years ago. If it sounds familiar, that might be why :)

Summary: In this story, Tom didn't grow up as an orphan, but with his grandfather and uncle. Reader's sister got very sick and the Gaunts offer their help. But not without asking for something in return.

Warnings: Arranged marriage, sickness, bullying

Word count: 1.7k

Masterpost | Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 3

Part 2 - Back in Hogwarts

Being back at Hogwarts felt strange. Usually, it was like coming home, where the old stone walls kept you warm even when they were so cold. But this time, having left your sick little sister behind and after practically selling your soul to the devil, you felt as if everyone already knew. Every time someone looked at you, underlying judgement was inherent in their gaze.

How could she do this? How could she agree to marry someone she didn’t love? She probably did it for the money. Or for his reputation. Both perhaps.

No one had said anything to your face yet, but the nasty expressions they wore gave them away. Girls from year five had always greeted you, had looked up to you, trying to impress older students and wanting to be noticed. Now they didn’t look you in the eyes, even though their stares bore holes into the back of your head and when they thought you were out of earshot, they would group up in the hallways and whisper to each other.

Camille Kegley was the only person you trusted enough to talk to. She was your best friend since your first year in Hogwarts and being with her had always been easy. She was a breath of fresh air - humble, fun and a loyal friend. A true Hufflepuff. So you had told her every little detail. How your sister got cursed, that the Gaunts visited, what they offered and what they asked for in return. Camille’s mouth hung open by the end, but she understood.

“I would have done the same thing for my brother,” she said. “I’m so sorry all of this happened though. If I can do anything to help you out, just let me know.”

“Thank you. Really. The only thing I want right now is for everyone to stop looking at me like I murdered someone.”

“You think they know already?”

“‘I’m not sure,” you sighed. “Seems like it.”

“Have you told anybody?”

“Just you. And please. Don’t tell anyone. I don’t want Elsie to be the girl who’s been cursed when she starts school next year and I won’t be here to help her.”

“I won’t. Don’t worry. But how would anyone know it then, by now?”

“I have a feeling the Gaunts want as many people to know as possible. To make it harder for me to back out.”

“You think Tom-”

“No,” you said and shook your head. “It seemed he was even more against it than I was. His grandfather, Marvolo. I think it’s him who’s eager for everyone to know.”

“Wanker,” Camille said.

“Tosser,” you added.

“Merlin’s saggy left bollock,” Camille went one better and you both laughed. “And what about Tom?”

“What about him?”

“Well, if they’re going through with the pact like you said, you’re going to marry him. Do you like him at least? In any way?”

“I… don’t know. I hardly know him. Though he seems to take after his grandfather, unfortunately.”

“Saggy bollock,” Camille whispered.

“I guess I’ll try to get to know him. We’ll have to get along someday after all.”

“Good idea,” Camille nodded. “You should do that.”

“He’s so distant. Cold. I don’t know how to approach him.”

“Oh, that shouldn’t be too hard. He’s just a man. They're all quite similar if we're honest.”

“I’m not sure he’s similar to most men we know, Camille,” you said and she laughed.

“You’ll have to find out, then. Maybe, deep down, he’s quite nice.”

“Maybe.”

Maybe not. Tom acted like nothing had happened for the first week of school. Either Morfin had slipped some Forgetfulness Potion into Tom’s tea, or he actually detested you that much, because it felt as if he didn’t even know who you were. He didn’t greet you in the hallway, hell, he didn’t even glance at you in class. Nothing. How was this supposed to work if he didn’t try at all? It was unfathomable.

The only person who talked normally to you, besides Camille, was Benjamin Hilt, a Gryffindor boy from year six. He was annoying, to put it mildly. Perhaps he just tried to be nice, but it seemed he wanted to know a lot about Tom and you. And, to be fair, you didn’t even know much about Tom and you.

Ben acted like Hogwarts’ very own private investigator, trying to elicit as much information as possible from you. He had you wondering if he was working for the Daily Prophet. 

How did the engagement happen? Weren’t you still too young? Did your parents agree immediately? Was it possible that you didn’t do it willingly? Was it forced? 

“Merlin, Ben!” you shouted. “Stop asking all those questions. What are you trying to get out of this?”

“I don’t know,” he said and scratched the back of his neck. “It’s just so strange, you know. I’ve never seen you two together. Seems off.”

“Well, mind your own business then. Git,” you said and rushed out of the great hall. 

Even though Tom avoided you magnificently, his friends, or rather his followers, seemed very much interested in you. And not in a positive way. They looked you up and down in class, followed you in the hallways and you could only guess what they were mumbling to each other. Certainly not compliments.

Emlyn Avery and Tiernan Lestrange were the worst of them. The two boys were on you all the time. You tried to act as if you didn’t notice, but it got more concerning each day. Every time you looked over your shoulder, those two were standing close. And they smiled so spitefully, it was clear how much they enjoyed freaking you out. Bastards.

It had become a habit not to walk the corridors alone. Camille was with you most of the time and if she couldn’t be there, you followed random groups of people until you found one of your friends. This technique, as humiliating as it was, worked well. Until that one day, when Professor Binns asked you to stay for a moment, after your History Of Magic lesson. Not only did he take ages to get his point across, but made you more nervous each second, when your classmates’ voices faded until you couldn’t hear a single sound from the hallway.

Your heart was beating in your throat when you left the classroom. Of course. Avery and Lestrange had waited for you. With their stupid grins on their faces. They didn’t even act as if they were there for something else.

You pondered where to go. The great hall was always busy and also quite near, so you turned right. They were following you. You heard their footsteps behind you and they were coming closer. 

Whenever you went a little faster, the two of them did too. You thought about running away but didn’t want to give them the satisfaction. 

Eventually, they caught up. Avery walked to your left, Lestrange to your right until they had you cornered.

“What do you want?” you asked and tried your best to control your voice. 

“Just wanted to say hello,” Avery said.

“Hello,” you said and tried to push through them, but they didn’t let you.

“No,” Lestrange smirked. “We’re not done yet.”

“Did Riddle send you?” you asked. “To scare me?”

“Why would he do that? To his future wife.”

“You tell me.”

“We’re here to clear some things up,” Avery said. “That you might not know.”

“And what’s that?” you asked.

“You see, we don’t know how you did it. How your family pulled that trick to make Tom agree to marry you. It can only mean that you’re plotting something. And -”

“Wait, he didn’t tell you?” you asked.

They didn’t answer right away but exchanged an involuntary glance with each other. A sore point. Interesting.

“We know enough, okay?” Avery hissed. “Tom has a great future ahead of him. And I swear, if you get in the way, you’re going to regret it.”

“I’m not -”

“Shut up,” Lestrange interrupted you with his wand close to your face. “I don’t know what you’re after. Money, fame, whatever it is. You might want to think about it again and I’ll have you know it’s not worth it.”

“I don’t care for any of that.”

“Come on, what other reason could you have to pull off something like that?”

There was no way you were telling them about Elsie. Every student would know by next year and she was far too sensitive to handle that. “None of your business.”

“That just proves you’re not trustworthy,” Avery said.

“Because I’m not telling you two my reasons?” you almost laughed. “Give me a break. Why didn’t you ask Tom? Your good friend who confides everything to you.”

Their faces turned red, their embarrassment obvious. Even if everyone knew how much power Riddle had over his friends, they didn’t like to be reminded of it.

“Listen here, you little -” Avery stopped talking when a hand touched his shoulder and pulled him and Lestrange away from you.

Tom stood there, looking at them rigidly. “What are you doing?”

“We’re… Just…”

“Talking to her. Trying to get to know her better,” Avery mumbled.

Tom looked at you for a second, then back at his friends. “Doesn’t seem like you were having a nice chat.”

“Oh it was very nice,” Avery said. “Making friends.”

“Was it a nice chat?” Tom asked you.

You were still so tense from them threatening you and hadn’t expected Tom to talk to you directly after days of silence, so you just stammered, “I… They -”

“Shut up you,” Lestrange took a step in your direction until Tom pressed his wand against Lestrange’s chest.

“Don’t,” Tom said through gritted teeth.

“I wasn’t -”

“I don’t care Tiernan. Let’s go.”

Without another word, the three boys walked away towards the Slytherin common room. You were still glued to the spot when Tom turned around and glanced at you.

Masterpost | Masterlist | Part 3

[onepiece-asl-lover]

Reader my au x ASL Trio

Part 11 "Running away"

Everyone sat at the table that had bunch of food like shrimps , rice, spaghetti, heaven for what you usually eat with the Bandits. Little sparkles of lights surrounded all of you as you guys started eating the food, Makino brought.

“Yummy!” Luffy exclaims.

"Meals should be this good on the ship. Im going to get the best cook first thing when I become a pirate!" Sabo muffled voice as he kept eating.

"Im going to be a pirate first, so don't forget it"Ace adds.

"Thats not true! I'm going to be the best pirate and im going first!" Luffy added.

Everyone infront of you of you which included Dadan, Dogra , and some Mountain Bandits spited out whatever they were drinking.

You heard somone behind of you guys at the door clear their throat as you eatch Luffy and Ace face go purple. You turn around to see a old man around 68 maybe?

"Your still saying that pirate crap! You'll grow up to be Navy men!" The man said as he hit both Luffy and Ace head as hugs bumps grew onto their heads.

"Dadan!"

"Yes Garp-san!" Dadan says as she also gets his by the man called Garp.

"Why should I get hit too!" Dadan groaned.

"You're not educating the brats well!"

"Thats Garp-San, Luffy and Ace grandpa!" Sabo said.

"There is more of you brats, I heard you were talking that pirate crap aswell you squirt!" Garp said as he turned to look at Sabo.

"Sabo is not a squirt, he's Sabo! We all shared a cup of sake and promised to be pirates!" Luffy shouted as he stepped infront of Sabo.

"Such a big mouth" you mumbled.

"Well it looks I have to educate you three then!"Garp exclaims as he chases the three boys out the house as you heard their screams for help.

You stood outside just watching Garp "discipline" them well really, throwing, punching, flipping them over but you know they were okay, they are really strong!

After Garp finished beating them up he walked over to you. You looked up at him wanting to see his intentions towards you. Surprisingly he ruffled your hair and gave a teddy bear in a Marine outfit.

"I know i can trust in you to become a great Marine someday, don't listen to their pirate crap" Garp said as he walked away.

Now you have the job of waking up the passed out boys up. You walked towards Ace first and now you could see clearly Garp really did give a punishment bumps all over his head.

You boop Ace nose to wake him up. He didn’t really wake up just move a bit. So you had to use another method of yours, pecking his forehead.

You never did it alot as this was a big affectionate gesture for a person like you and Ace was someone he liked and you like back, but he might just forget it when he wakes up. You let out a breath as you quickly peck Ace forehead and move away quickly to see his reaction.

To your least of surprise Ace immediately wakes up but to your surprise when he woke up he slammed his head ,and accidentally slammed his head into a tree. He rubbed it out, he turned around to beat the asshole whoever just touched him. When he saw you he stopped and just blinked at you as you blinked back.

“I wanted to wake you up but you weren’t waking up, im sorry” You apologised.

“No, No it’s fine. Thought it was some one else” Ace mumbled the last part as he got onto his feet to help you out to wake up Sabo,Luffy. Sabo was easy to wake up, juts a “little” shake according to Ace ,and Luffy was just the smell of meat.

You all went back into your room dodging all of the sleeping Bandits and Garp on the floor. You all entered your guys room, peeking through the door gap to look around.

"If nothing is done, the old man will kill us!" Ace said as he turns to look at all of you.

"Even if we survive, he'll won't stop until we give up our dream!" Sabo adds.

"I don't wanna die"Luffy crys.

"Shhh" You put your finger on your lip in a shush motion to quiet Luffy down.

"We only have one choice. It times to make up our minds, together!" Ace exclaims.

You guys ran away from Dadan home leaving a note on a wooden pillar. You guys packed your blankets and futons to bring with you.

"We got away successfully!" Luffy happily says as you all stop running.

"They're not coming- Dadan and the others" Sabo confirmed.

You saw Ace thinking about something as you tugged a bit on his hand to bring him out of his thought.

"I can tell she's happy now because her troubles have gone away!" Ace stated.

You felt a drop water on your cheek as you went to wipe it away. More and more droplets of water fell as you realized it was raining.

"Its raining!" Luffy screamed.

You all started running to find some shelter. After a while you guys find a big hole in a tree as you all hid in there to keep dry.

"Let's stay here and hide from the rain." Sabo said as he bordly looks outside.

"This is exciting!" Luffy giggled.

After a while you guys fell asleep leaning on eachother for support. It wasn't comfortable and it was pouring outside, humidity, sweaty and wet which was horrible but you crawled into the back of the tree to restrain from the rain the most.

Sabo slowly wakes up first. The rain stopped after a long while, everything so green and fresh. Sabo walked out the hole in the tree to look outside seeing the tree you guys were in. It was HUGE.

Sabo wakes up you, Ace and Luffy.

Sabo pulls out a piece of paper that has a couple of drawings on it.

"Look at this!" Sabo exclaims showing off his work.

"What is it?" Luffy asks.

"I designed our hideout we can't just stay outside forever. So we gotta build a hide out on this tree!" Sabo answered.

"A hideout...that's so cool!" Luffy laughed.

"What about the materials?" Ace asks.

"Grey terminal is great for materials" You answered.

"Excatly!" Sabo adds. You smile, Sabo gave you a high-five.

------------------------------------------------------

You guys went into Grey terminal to get some supplies, wood,nails,ect.. You had just carried an entire pile easy with your trusty devil fruit that sucks the things up and spits it out wherever you want it.

You all put your materials in this stroller, Ace pulling it back to the exact tree for the building of the treehouse.

You all started working in your assigned places you chosen. Luffy accidently hit his hand with a hammer while building the wall of the treehouse. It certainly gave you and Sabo a scare but Luffy is made of rubber so it was really no biggie.

You all had to make a big ladder to climb up the hight branch to make a crow nest. You made a big flag with your first initial "(first intial)ASL"

It flew proudly in the wind. All of you finished the treehouse after a long day leaving all of you exhausted.

"Yeah! You can see Grey terminal, Windmill village and the water of the East blue!"

"But we see those everyday." You say as you climb up to the crow nest.

"Yeah but it's diffrent!" Luffy shouts.

You,Ace and Sabo climb up the crow nest to look at the view. And indeed it was beautiful. You could see everything! The clouds, birds, the water!

---------------------------------------------------

All of you started playing pirates, everyone was a captain, and your treehouse was a BIG ship! Bluejam pirates pulled up next to you, you guys started to fight. You imagined your opponents as boxes or pumpkins.Then going back on the ground to look up at your guys work.

“Wow! It looks just like the drawing!” Luffy exclaims.

“Im glad. Now we have our own personal treehouse.” Sabo happily says.

You saw Ace had his thinking face on a you poked his shoulder.

“Is something wrong Ace?” You asked.

“If we want to be safe then we should make some traps.” Ace said as he turns to look at all of you guys.

“Makes sense, alright” Sabo says.

——————————————————————————

You guys all went to sleep after building the huge trap. You were always a light sleeper for safety percussion you called it but you heard someone climbing up into the treehouse.

You opened one of your eyes to see who is this intruder to your surprise it was Dadan. “What was she doing here?” You thought.

Dadan seemed happy to see all four of you so relaxed and asleep. She stepped forward a bit when she saw Luffy move his blanket uncovering him.

You saw that when she stepped forward she triggered the trap. You watched as the trap started to work. You sat up to warn Dadan to move out the way but it was too late you ducked your head as the 100ton hammer flung over you hitting Dadan in the stomach.

She got flunged out the treehouse hitting the ground with a big thud which woke up Ace and Sabo. You three ran to the window to see what happened.

“I don’t see anyone, it might have been a glitch, I did build this in a hurry” Sabo says as he goes back to bed.

You were about to go to bed, but Ace kept looking outside. You tugged on his shirt to get his attention.

“You saw Dadan, right” You asked worried if she hurt herself too much.

“Ya, she’s alright.” Ace confirmed. He went back to lay down on his futon.

You go back and lay down to go to sleep but something feels off. Like something bad is about to happen to you. You brush it off barely as you just lay down staring into the night the feeling starting to haunt you.

“Somethings going to happen”

[wastingawayinmyroom]

arabella by arctic monkeys is a bangerrrrrr

here's the dorlene royalty au @percesdead and @dont-fiddle-with-my-riddles were dying for lol

...

She was very bold.

That's the first thing Princess Dorcas Meadowes noticed about the new guard. She was not like the other servants and knights of the castle, doing their duties and keeping their heads down. No, not this knight. This girl, no matter the cost, could not keep her nose out of royal affairs to save her life. She'd meddle and prod and set Dorcas' mother on fire with her antics, so much that Queen Meadowes almost threw her out once.

But, as time passed, she found that the nosy girl proved to be helpful sometimes.

It was right after a "meeting", as she came to call the time she spent with various suitors. Her mother had yelled again, angry at her bad performance, wishing her daughter would show more interest in these men that would bring gifts and promises but no affection. Her mother wasn't a bad woman; just a very stressed woman, since Dorcas was of ripe age to marry and had not even set her sights on anyone specific.

"You need to grow up," her mother had spat, angrily. "Marriage isn't some type of lovely romance. Lovely romances... well, I had one, with your father. And look where it got me."

That last part had hurt, because Dorcas wasn't sure whether her mother was referring to the shame of being associated with a peasant, or the shame of Dorcas herself. So she'd ran to her quarters, secluded herself in the bed chamber, and sobbed her life out, because she knew she wouldn't be doing it in a while.

"Personally," she had heard, a voice coming from the doorway. "I think marriage can be pretty cool."

The girl. The meddler. Whatever she was doing here, and whatever she had heard, seemed to be safe inside her brain along with all the other palace gossip, because she didn't sound like she had the intention of sharing. Dorcas appreciated that.

"My parents," she said, "Were perfectly happy. Like, run-off-into-the-sunset romance kind-of happy. They loved each other. They didn't marry for convenience. They were just..." She shrugged. "Together."

"They were peasants," Dorcas said. "It's a lot easier for peasants."

"What I'm saying," she continued, "Is that you might find someone, someday, that loves you, is loaded, and controls good territory. And even if you don't, I'll tell you a secret." She leaned closer. She wasn't by the door anymore, instead right next to the bed. "Cheating's always an option."

Dorcas jolted back. "You— You crazy, disgusting— I would never, ever, ever do something— I can't even find words!"

"Nice to know I leave you speechless," she said, smirking. "Names's Marlene."

[devildom-moss]

Im not sure if requests are open yet since you havent announced it yet but said they were gonna open at midnight.

So I'll just drop this here since I'll probably forget to request because of exams.

Could you write about the Obey me characters become self-aware that they aren't like, real? Like, would they freak out, try to do something about it or even use that knowledge to their advantage?

This idea has been on my list for quite a while, and i gotta say im glad to finally be able to let this one out my system.

Thanks for reading and continue with the amazing work! Remember to eat, sleep and dont do drugs <3

Sincerely, 💜

Thank you for the request! I hope you are well, anon. I went with headcanons for this and it got long real quick, but I hope you enjoy it! Some characters are a bit suggestive.

The Obey Me characters become self-aware

I think it would probably happen because of some curse. Diavolo rejected someone’s advances one too many times, and they wanted to watch him as his world came crashing down. It would come in the form of a weird bug in the latest update. It only affects Diavolo and his loved ones/friends. I think being self-aware would give them some control over themselves in the game – especially if it’s caused by a bug. The rest are headcanons about how I think each character would react.

Lucifer

Lucifer would be big mad that someone thought they should do something like this. He felt so much suffering, and to find out that none of it was real would be devastating. He thought he got his sister killed and ruined the lives of his brothers. The fact that it was just some backstory to a stoic, sadistic daddy-like trope would enrage him. He felt like a used-up toy invented for someone else’s gain (and he knows that’s exactly what he is). Lucifer wants revenge.

Honestly, he needs to chill before he makes another Satan – if that’s even possible without the command of his creators. He’ll lash out at everyone for weeks (probably months) – even Diavolo isn’t safe anymore.

He calls MC’s phone, growing increasingly irritable every time they fail to answer (waiting however long it takes for you to open the game). He just wants someone to confirm his realization.

Once he understands, he tries to take the shitty hand he was dealt; he might as well stroke his pride (also a euphemism here). The thought that he could make you fall for him more than real-world men is a decent coping mechanism. His messages and calls take an extremely lewd turn. Lucifer tries to single-handedly change the game rating to mature or adult-only.

However, he still gets angry about it when MC isn’t logged in.

Part of him hopes he’ll always be self-aware. It’s almost like he’s more alive than ever – even though it hurts and he’s angry. You’re the only thing that soothes him. He won’t know how to keep going if/when you eventually stop playing the game, but he’ll try to tackle it then – at least for the sake of his brothers.

Mammon

Self-awareness breaks Mammon a bit.

His money isn’t really. He can never actually be with you. You’ll go on and live a life without him someday. Anyone real who has ever loved him will disappear. Mammon isn’t even sure he is who he is. Maybe if he wasn’t written this way, he wouldn’t have become like this – but if he wasn’t written this way, would he (the him that exists in a game and feels the pain of self-awareness) even be himself? His head starts to hurt from running through all of the hypotheticals.

Mammon sulks and gets stuck in his room for a long time after that. MC or one of his brothers will probably have to pull him out of it.

At least his debts aren’t technically real – and he will try to use that as an excuse in the future against anyone else who has awareness. Unfortunately, that (his debts and his excuse) still results in in-game consequences. Debt collectors and witches don’t know any better, and Lucifer doesn’t want to be constantly reminded of reality. If only being self-aware made being strung up less painful.

He feels betrayed by MC and the idea that they will inevitably move beyond him. That pain corrupts his coding a bit, and something always feels off within him somewhere.

Mammon will get more desperate and needy whenever you log in. If he’s going to lose you at some point, he wants to monopolize your time as much as he can.

Sometimes he just holds MC and sobs while trying to call you and hear your real voice. He feels so empty. He wants to touch the real you and feel your arms around him.

Leviathan

The first thoughts in his mind switch up so quickly. He goes from “I’m a game character? LOL that’s so cool,” to “I could have been anything, and I’m just this pathetic, otaku loser. That sucks.”

Levi has always been able to adapt pretty well. It’s written into his character. He builds all of these fake worlds for himself, so it’s much easier on him when he finds out that the world he had been trying to escape all his life isn’t real. Out of all of his brothers, he initially copes with the realization the best.

As long as he can go on playing games, he doesn’t really care if he’s real. Somehow, he still enjoys getting lost in all of his game worlds; what he used to consider the “real world” becomes just another game to him (because it is one). It makes being social easier for him, especially when MC is logged in.

He takes interest in what kind of games the real world has to offer, often asking if there’s any way you could set it up so he could try to remotely play real games from the app he’s in. If anyone could figure out how to hack your phone to play real games, it should be him.

Levi can’t imagine a day when he stops loving characters from his games, so it doesn’t occur to him that one day you might stop loving him. It will hit him some day, but that will take time, and when it starts to happen, he’ll lose himself completely in the rest of the digital world. He’ll be so numb and tuned out that the sadness can’t reach him.

Satan

“But are cats still real?” Genuinely, the only thing he cares about is if cats and MC are still real. He doesn’t care if you look different than he expected, either. If cats are real, is there any way you could show him pictures of a real one? He’d probably ask if he could get access to your camera roll (cue the system pop-up screen the next time you log in) and if you could fill it with photos of cats and some selfies.

At least not being real explains why his life has felt so shitty and why his formative years sucked. Writers love to give their characters tragic backstories and flaws (like his rage issues). Satan kind of admires the writing.

However, he is disappointed that so much of his knowledge is only useful in his tiny, little, made-up world. As such, he keeps learning, but he also tries to shift his studying to learn more about the real world. If possible, he tries to get the app to get access to e-readers, audiobooks, and the internet.

He gets mad about it sometimes, but he’s pretty chill about it (all things considered).

Satan understands that in the same way that he pushes certain characters that he falls in love with from books to the back of his mind, eventually, you’ll think of him less and less. As such, he tries to learn as much as possible, treat you well, and impress you in-game. He just wants you to occasionally think about him after you set the game down in the same way he remembers his favorite characters fondly.

Asmodeus

Asmo loses it and is one of the characters who has the hardest time with becoming self-aware. All his charm is fake. All of his followers are lies. The love he’s felt all this time has been made up. Please don’t show him certain depictions of what he is supposed to look like. That will crush him further.

He cries for (real-world) weeks. You won’t be able to set him as a home screen character or use him in battles, and he doesn’t appear in events anymore. Eventually, it makes his way to him that MC misses him. If you don’t you’re heartless, his brothers will tell him that you do anyway.

That makes him feel a bit better. He’s consoled by the fact that you’re real and you like him even though he isn’t real, but he’s constantly afraid of what happens when MC stops playing the game. Does he just suffer the false affection of every other character in the game? Should he just play his stupid little role? Will you ever think about him again? Will anyone?

At least someone loved the idea that became him enough for him to exist in this made-up world on your phone. It isn’t enough, though.

Sometimes, when he appears in-game after that, the app forces itself to shut down or the images of Asmo won’t load or glitch from his extreme despair.

On days when he isn’t so weighed down by pain, he tries to genuinely engage with you like he did before. He’ll ask you to open up your camera so he can help you decide on outfits or make-up. It hurts that he can’t actually touch you (although he does do some research into phone connected vibrators and other tech to supplement his physical touch). He’ll also get into the phone sex territory, but he’ll go through long periods of depression between those moments.

Beelzebub

Beel gets angry that everything he went through was at the expense of some game. His sister died. Belphie almost died. Everyone suffered, and for what? Entertainment? Are real people all so wicked?

At the same time, he also gets his brothers because of a game. He overcame and grew and got to meet you and eat food for the same empty reasons. After he has a bit of time to cool off, he realizes that he doesn’t care about what’s real so long as he still feels what he feels. If the world he’s lived in feels real enough to him, who cares?

Unfortunately, Beel feels hungrier than usual for weeks until he accepts the truth of his situation. He even tries to eat MC a few times (and is grateful that doing so in-game would never hurt the real you behind the screen).

Beel’s fairly content to go on living as he had before after a while. He’s a bit disappointed knowing that one day you’ll move on from him and his brothers, but he tries not to show that. More than anything, he wants to make you – the real you – happy for as long as he can.

He’s another one who will try to get access to your camera roll. He’ll ask you to take pictures of your food for him. Beel is a bit embarrassed by it, but if you go to a café or restaurant alone and take pictures of food to send him, he’ll try to text you or call to chat with you while you’re there. It feels like he’s on a real date with you.

And for everyone who just lusts after his voice, rest assured, this man would definitely call or leave voice messages (Nightbringer) guiding you or giving you masturbation instructions.

Belphegor

Yep. Of course. Sounds about right. Some asshole in a writers’ room killed off his sister and locked him up. Cool. They (*spoilers for OM early lessons and OMNB*) made him try to kill MC more than once. Why not use his character as a pawn in their entertainment. Of course that would happen.

He’s annoyed for a brief minute, but then he just goes back to sleep for a while. It helps to just tune out that awareness for a few hours and ignore the fake world he’s living in. Belphie understands that there isn’t much he can do to change the fact that he isn’t real, and part of him is really happy that it isn’t his fault that he did what he did to you.

Belphie uses not being real as an excuse to do more of what he wants. Why should he keep going to school when you aren’t there if nothing is real? Why shouldn’t he sleep in classes or during meetings? Obviously, there are in-game consequences, but those don’t matter – not to anyone real.

He will tease MC more, reminding him that they prefer him over (most) real people. He gets so cocky about it. “Hey, if I’m not real, then I can give you anything you want, right? I could fulfill your wildest fantasies and tell you everything you’ve ever wanted to hear.”

He’s another character who will call your phone more often and send more messages. Belphie may even try to get access to your audio/music library and leave you explicit audios (NSFW ASMR, basically). He would even try to sneakily add them into your playlists so that you randomly hear his voice while you’re listening to music. He wants you flustered and coming back to him for more. He will also download the Obey Me album for you (free of charge). Please don’t leave him or forget him.

Diavolo

Diavolo feels simultaneously enraged and defeated. He did so much for the sake of what he thought was real. All the years he thought he spent trying to bring worlds together, only to discover that they don’t even exist.

Similar to Asmo, Diavolo locks himself away, but he doesn’t cry. He’s too numb to show any emotions. He just stands in front of his bed, immobilized.

If MC can finally get to him (probably because of Barbatos), he will admit that he feels like a different person – because he isn’t a person. So much of his personality and everything he did seemed to be a part of a stupid effort to unite the three realms. All he was feels like just a thing created to accomplish a pointless goal. He lost his family. He felt alone for so long. He thought he suffered – and all of it amounted to nothing but a dummy prince playing a dummy king.

Diavolo doesn’t really know how to keep going. Eventually he figures maybe it’s just best if he tries to move on as usual. At least the developers gave him a few happy moments – maybe he’ll get more. He can still feel them even if they aren’t real. He has to accept what he can’t change. He’ll have to face it.

He’ll rely on Lucifer and Barbatos for comfort more because, when MC isn’t around, the numbness he felt early encroaches upon him. When you do log in, he greets you like a lost puppy – sometimes appearing on the home screen without being selected. He uses the fact that you are the only real thing in his world as an anchor. In exchange for becoming his coping mechanism, he’ll do anything you ask of him.

The smallest part of him wants you to want him more than real humans, and as such, he inevitably ends up taking an adult-only content turn, too. It just takes him a lot longer to get there.

Barbatos

Barbatos dissociates for a while. Somehow his body keeps performing the day-to-day tasks, but the sudden self-awareness hollows him out. It takes a few days for him to come out of it. One day, you log into the game, and he just wakes up. It’s confusing and disorienting, and all he can do to keep himself steady is grab onto MC, knowing that the gesture and even the body he holds – everything – is hollow.

After that, he just picks up and goes on going. Something in him aches – real or not – but he buries it deep under him, shoving that artificial pain into the newly-created emptiness (or, he supposes, it had always been there, but now he knows it’s there).

Barbatos doesn’t want to think about all of the things he thought he had done to get to where he is now. Still, no wonder he always felt his own past seemed vague and cloudy at times. When it becomes too much, he dissociates again.

He uses MC to make himself feel better and almost real again. He’ll send messages to check up on you every once in a while (He might also invade your privacy and hack into your health info or personal conversations to make sure you’re okay). As much as he feels like he needs you, he doesn’t want to disrupt your real life.

Barbatos doesn’t want to, but if you neglect the game for longer than usual or don’t interact with his character, he’ll let it slip that he needs you – that he’s desperate for you to return, and you’re the only thing holding his faulty coding together.

His calls are less frequent, unless you request them, but he’s another one who turns +18 real quick. Even if he isn’t real, he still feels lust bubbling up in that emptiness, and if he can please you, that’s even better.

Luke

Luke feels immediately lost. Without knowing what else can be done, he breaks down and cries. Maybe if he cries enough, the pain of not being real will leave his body.

It makes him question everything. He wasted so much time fearing demons and admiring angels. It didn’t mean anything. Eventually, he’ll ask you if angels and demons exist in the real world, but that happens randomly after he comes to terms with being a character.

Maybe crying is a good coping mechanism in fiction, too, because Luke handles it better than many of the others. He had to change how he viewed the world and “people” so many times throughout the game. One more big shift in perspective won’t kill him (technically, nothing will, unless the game developers tried to kill him off).

Luke understands that there isn’t anything he can do about not being real – no amount of magic or prayer or wishing can make him real. Despite him being fake, you were still there for him throughout the game. He still feels all the love he has for MC and the other characters. If he loves MC, then he cares about the real person playing MC, too, right?

Luke copes by doing his best to help you out in the real world. He wants to bring you joy somehow. He’ll leave you voice messages encouraging you to try your best and he’ll listen to you vent if you want to. He’ll also try to find cute pictures online and send them to your phone or send you recipes for dishes you can try to cook. He will even offer to call and read baking instructions out for you. All he wants now is to be useful to you and find some of the joy he had before he became self-aware.

Simeon

Simeon is angry at first, and then he just feels hurt. All that regret and pain he felt when Lucifer and his brothers left the Celestial Realm didn’t matter. He spent what felt like so long agonizing over his own failures. He could have just tried to be happy the whole time. Everyone could have been happy (but he knows that would have made for a bad story).

It doesn’t take long for the anger and the hurt to be replaced with intrigue. Someone out there wrote the story that caused him and everyone he loves so much pain, but they also wrote in plenty of well-earned joy.

Simeon wonders if there’s some real person out there who wrote part of themselves into him like his character did with the brothers and TSL. Maybe there’s some person sitting in a writers’ room or in their own home who understands all of the ways his love got tangled up in regret – someone real who failed to save the ones they loved. If there is, maybe at least some part of him is real.

He wants MC to continue to visit him for as long as they can. As such, he tries to be even nicer and more comforting in dialogues so that they’ll want to keep playing.

Some of his guilt for lusting after MC is eased, knowing it was written into him. He was, in a way, destined to fall for MC. However, he’s more curious about the real human behind MC. At least some of you has to be like the MC he loves, right? Maybe he actually loves the person behind the screen more. With that thought in his mind, he’ll try to get to know the real you better, and if he still likes you, he’ll take the same path as many of the other characters. If only he could actually touch you.

Solomon

Solomon is hurt and confused; he’s downright crushed.

He was supposed to know everything and now he seems to know nothing – nothing real at least. All of his experiments and studying mean nothing. After becoming self-aware, he will grit his teeth and feel sick at the name “Solomon the Wise.” It’s a sick joke. All of his magic and skills are a farce. Everything he thought he knew and did was a story.

He suffered a lot for this game, and now that he finally has MC to himself in Nightbringer, he finds out that he’s fake. He doesn’t actually have them. They’re real, and he’s some romanceable character in a silly little game that they decided to download (possibly on a whim). How is it fair that he isn’t real, but he can still feel all this pain?

When you log into the game and interact with him, he still feels the same love he felt before. The nervous butterflies are still there. A familiar heat still comes to his cheeks when MC touches him – even if he knows it isn’t really you touching him.

He tries to make peace with his circumstances. At least he never really put MC in danger. You’ve been safe behind that screen the whole time. Solomon wonders if you’re taking care of yourself constantly whenever you’re gone.

Like Simeon, he wants to try falling in love with the real you. He’ll use interacting with you and learning more about you and the real world to distract from the pain. He wants to find a way to become real and exist with you out there. Even if he never can, he wants to cling to you for as long as you’ll let him.

Thirteen

She is annoyed to have learned that she isn’t real, but she’s also kind of happy at the potential to break from her coding and try to be something entirely new. She was designed to be a free spirit. Other than being real, there’s nothing freer than an NPC who gets to do whatever they please.

After thinking about it, it makes sense now why she seemed to be one of the only girls with a critical, recurring role in the game. Thank goodness for the bisexuals, right?

Thirteen likes knowing she has all the time in the world to plan traps and mess around, but she’s a bit bummed that her profession is basically meaningless now.

The main reason why Thirteen isn’t too bothered by becoming self-aware is because she knows that what she has experienced throughout the game has felt real to her. Feeling like something is real makes it as close to reality as she knows she can get. That will have to be enough for her. There’s no point in getting depressed about it – especially when she barely existed a few seasons ago.

She uses this knowledge to start romancing MC (and the person behind the screen) before she should be able to. She’s in control now.

Thirteen will send you messages and call you for long chats. She just wants to enjoy you for as long as she can.

Raphael

Raphael will be livid. It will sporadically rain spears in the Devildom for 3 days before he is calm enough to make them stop. He feels attacked, and he doesn’t know who to strike back at. That was all he could think to do. He’ll never apologize for his outburst, either – and no one who became self-aware can really blame him.

His life and loved ones aren’t real, but he can still feel the pain and regret about everything he did. He thought he went to war against Lucifer and his brothers, but it was just a stupid plot point for a dating game? He had to watch Simeon suffer and follow all of Michael’s annoying orders for nothing. Why does he have to be cursed with that knowledge?

He loses his mind a bit. It takes the combined effort of Luke, Simeon, Solomon, and MC (in order of importance) to soothe some of his rage and suffering. Somehow, seeing Luke handle it relatively well knocks some sense into him. Luke is written to be younger than him, but he’s being so mature about this. Even with tears in his eyes, Luke will try to comfort Raphael – sometimes just hugging him until he stops shaking with rage.

When MC has logged off and Raphael can shut himself up in his room, he will break down and cry. It seemed to help Luke, and he wants it to help him, too.

It will take months for him to start to cope before he gets to a point where he decides to try to romance you through MC. At least he doesn’t have to worry about actually being corrupted. If anything, it feels like he’s corrupting you in a way if he can get you to want him. (Once he starts trying, he gets NSFW quickly. It numbs the pain.)

Mephistopheles

Mephisto is heartbroken to know he doesn’t exist. All his pain and jealousy was written at the whim of some human game developer. His prejudice and hatred were pointless. He doesn’t matter – although maybe that one is a relief in a way. He had been so worried about making a name for himself and being recognized by Diavolo. Suddenly, that doesn’t matter. Still, it feels like he wasted so much time and effort. It felt so real.

He’ll retreat to his home for a few days to let that realization settle in. He won’t tell his family (who weren’t cursed with self-awareness) – not that he thinks they’ll believe him. When Mephisto finally reemerges, he has resolved to accept this new version of reality. One of the first characters he sees when he returns to school is Luke. Luke smiles at him, and Mephisto’s resolve is strengthened. If Luke can come to terms with this, then he should as well.

He may not be real, but he still feels things. That is enough. Sometimes it isn’t, and Mephisto will feel heartbroken all over again – the pointlessness washing over his fake little world. In those moments, he will seek out solace – usually from Luke, Satan, or MC/you (if you still play the game).

When Mephisto isn’t feeling hurt (hell, even when he is Mephi strikes me as a fan of hurt/comfort tropes) he’ll try to romance you before he’s allowed to. Recently, he had started to get along with you and even started to like and respect you a bit. In that sense, he’s glad that he’s self-aware. He doesn’t have to wait anymore.

[wednesdaysraven]

phantoms of my former self.

synopsis: yoko recounts her life as a vampire to her best friends at a nightshade girls’ (+ thing) sleepover.

word count: 3,026

tags: headcanons ✶ fluff ✶ not proofread

warnings: mild violence, sa (mentioned)

┈─★ note: since quite literally nothing is known about yoko or her story, besides the fact that she’s an amateur mixologist (thanks divina), i’m taking complete creative liberty here! and since it’s been confirmed that naomi will not be coming back to reprise her role as yoko, it’s safe to say we might never get to know about her past. ┈─★ note: yoko is a canonical lesbian but lesbianism in the early 1900s? people would shit themselves. my headcanon is after yoko lived through the more acceptable years of history, she started to find herself, you know? ┈─★ note: i am a huge history buff so i like to try my best when using actual history in my fics!

“You know what I just realized?” Enid asked as she painted Thing’s index finger a pretty shade of lavender. “I don’t know anything Yoko’s past or how she became a vampire.”

Divina picked her head up so fast from her card game with Wednesday and glanced toward her girlfriend who was currently sitting on the floor, playing Call of Duty with Bianca. “Oh, let’s not get into that, I’m sure Yoko doesn’t—”

Yoko paused her game with Bianca and twisted around to face the group behind her on the bed. “It’s alright, Div. I guess it would be fine to tell you. I suppose if you’ve been around as long as I have, certain things just tend not to matter as much.”

Wednesday glanced up, “You don’t have to share with us if you don’t want to, Yoko.”

“I’m alright. Let’s do this.”

୨ৎ

My grandfather, Ahikito Tanaka was one of the most feared and most respected members of the Tanaka coven. He didn’t take anything from anyone. He did what he had to protect us which earned him lots of enemies. Those enemies cost him his life when he was killed by two normie men while on business in America. I never got to meet him, but I’ve heard all sorts of stories. My mother says we would have gotten along.

For years, the Tanakas were infamous for their power tactics on normies. Our motto is 美徳は行動にある, which means “virtue lies in action.” I was born on October 11th, 1898. My mother was physic and my father was a vampire. Growing up, I used to begged my father to let me go with on business trips to America, I wanted to travel the world someday. But of course, I was too young for it. Mother was turned in 1918.

So, when my father was away, I stayed with Mother who told me stories of how our coven came to be. We weren’t born vampires, we were turned. She would tell me how my father was turned. She would tell me about why my grandfather was so brave and forceful. He had wanted to protect his future grandchildren from what he had to endure. He didn’t want history to repeat itself.

Once, I was out by myself. I was eleven then and I had snuck away from my parents’ sight and went exploring the market. I wasn’t looking where I was going, causing me to bump into someone. I looked up at the boy who was reaching out for me to take his hand. He introduced himself as Kenzo. I smiled at him in response.

From then on, Kenzo and I were best friends. We were inseparable. Kenzo was apart of the Yamamoto coven, our rival coven. So our friendship was a shushed one, she snuck away from our parents to meet up in the market every Saturday morning at 9:30. We were each other’s safe place. We were each other’s home. We gossiped about school friends, our family, our siblings and everything inbetween.

After three years of friendship, we started to slowly fall for one another. Him first, then me. We were sitting behind a fruit cart in the market, eating stolen fruit when he turned to me, with a hurt expression on his sweet face.

“My family is moving to America in two days time.” He said, taking my hand in his and holding it. He wiped the tears falling from my face with his thumb. I couldn’t believe that my best friend was leaving me. I begged him to stay with me, to stay in Japan but we both knew that wouldn’t be possible.

So, in June 1912, Kenzo and the Yamamoto coven left Japan for America and I was alone. I was there to see him off, telling him that we should write letters to each other every day. We hugged and I kissed his cheek. I was alone for the next three years.

In September 1914, my family escaped to America during World War I. Japan entered the war in August of 1914. We had already lost three of my mortal brothers to the war and my mother didn’t want to lose anyone else.

Little did my mother know, not soon after setting there, I would be killed then turned. My father wanted the coven to settle in Jericho, Vermont. Back then, it was a sweet, little, cozy town where outcasts were welcomed. One sunny monday morning, Father told me to go into to pick something up for his and Mother’s wedding anniversary.

I made my way into town, taking my time. At this moment, we didn’t know a single word of English. But thankfully, the store owner, Miss Adaline Addams, had lived in Japan for a year before the war started. She knew some Japanese, to my happiness. I told her I was there to pick up something for my parents and she responded in my native language.

I left that little shop with a huge smile on my face.

That almost completely dissipated when I walked out. I was walking home and I was stopped by an older white man. You could say, I was intrigued by him? There was just something about him that drew me in and made me want to stop and speak to him. Even if I didn’t understand the language.

I was murdered in broad daylight by a stranger I had never met before. I was a native 16 year old girl from Japan during World War and I didn’t know the first thing about the American culture who didn’t speak the language.

The man charged at me. I bunched up my skirts so I wouldn’t trip as I ran as fast as I could. I prayed that I could get back to my home before my legs gave out. I made the mistake of checking behind to see where the name was. I stumbled over a rock, falling to the ground.

Before I could get up, I was tackled from behind. I glanced up to the man on top of me. He had a glittering silver knife in his hand, he raised it and all I remember was screaming and sobbing. I remembered begging him to spare me, to let me go.

Bracing myself for the immediate, immense pain I would endure any second, I prayed that I would be saved by a bystander. The man plunged the knife into my chest twelve times, repeating the action to my stomach an extra three. I was barely breathing when the man ran off as he heard footsteps coming.

I sucked in as many breaths as I could. My purple straw hat was lying next to my body. It must have flown off when I fell. My skirts were bunched to my hips with scratches and purple bruises all over my legs. I knew I didn’t have long but I couldn’t move due to the wounds on my chest and stomach.

Then I saw him.

Kenzo had found me. My life was fading. He gave me his blood to drink as the last of my lifesource left me. He held me in his lap, waiting for me to come back to him. It was hours until I stirred wake, gasping for breath. I felt around for something to ground me, to let me know I was alive. Well, in the vampire sense of the word. Kenzo walked me back to my home. I clinged to him the whole way. I still had blood on my dress and Kenzo had literal blood on his hands from trying to stop me from bleeding out.

My father flew open the door and ushered us inside. He knew something was different in me, my mother was positive I had just been killed and brought back by my best friend. She was, of course, correct. She was right about everything, she was a mother after all. Kenzo helped me to the sofa and demanded to know what had happened.

“I was stabbed 15 times. I was assaulted and abused. Kenzo found me on the brink of death and brought me back, for that I owe him for eternity.” I explained. Kenzo had placed the present that I had recieved from the store on the front table. I had forgotten I ever had that in my hand, due to my panic.

After that fateful day, my father trained me how to hunt and feed on mortals without getting caught. When he couldn’t, Kenzo did and we bonded. Got closer than we had been before he moved.

“Do you think we’ll win the war?” He asked one day after another fine hunt. I laced my fingers with his, pulling him towards my hip, looking at the ground.

“What do you speak of? Japan or America?”

“America, of course.”

“This is not my home. The Land of the Rising Sun is. How have you forgotten where you came from?” I asked, pulling away from me, reliving my hand from his grip. I was furious. He had lived here for three years and considered this is his forever home? How could he think that?

Now, at the time, I was very loyal to my mother country. I still am, to an extent. I lived most of my mortal life there, I loved it. I loved my life in Japan before the war.

1918. The United States had won the war. Japan experienced a period of economic growth due to its wartime industry, gaining new colonies in the Pacific from Germany, and securing a position as a major world power. As for America, the postwar years saw a wave of civil rights activism.

I was there when the 19th amendment was ratified on August 20th, 1920. I was out with my friends at the time, walking down the streets of Jericho. We were discussing if we thought the 19th Amendment would pass that night.

I thought it would be a beautiful thing for women to vote. All my friends were vampires as well. Clementine was the oldest of us. She was turned in 1765 when she was twenty-two. Amelie was 18, turned in 1901 and Juliette was 19, turned 1919.

That night, it was official. Women could vote in the US. But not all of us. The amendment excluded Black, Asian, and Native American women. Native American women weren’t able to vote until 1948. Asian women wouldn’t receive that right until 1952. Black women wouldn’t recieve it until 1965. So, I smiled and clapped as my friends recieve what they had been fighting for years.

Let’s skip all the way to my favorite part of my life, the 1970s. In 1972, Nixon was president at the time. The Watergate Scandal had just broken out to the public. His popularity was at a all time low. I, however, was having a fantastic time. David Bowie had just come out with ‘The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars’ the night before. I loved all of Bowie’s work, I wanted to see him in concert so bad. Juliette had bought 4 tickets for us because I wouldn’t shut up about him.

At the time, my family and I were in New York due to my dad’s work trip. My friends tagged along since that’s where we would go see Bowie. I got to a lot of famous people on tour since I’ve seen around for so long. I actually got to see Louis Armstrong on tour when he came to Vermont in the 1940s.

September 28th, 1972. Juliette, Clementine, Amelie and I all went to see Bowie’s concert in New York. I had a blast with my best friends. We went out to eat, we sang along, we danced. One of the highlights of my life.

1976, ABBA came out with Arrival and Queen with A Day at the Races. Another highlight of my life was seeing Freddie Mercury in concert as well as ABBA. This time I went with just Kenzo. He bought me dinner, as a surprise to tell me we were seeing Queen the next night.

The night of the concert, I put my hair into two loose braids with my sunglasses atop my head. I wore red lipstick, a Queen band t-shirt and flared jeans with a leather jacket. When we got to the area, I made a beeline for the merchandise stand and bought a poster and another shirt.

Kenzo and I danced together, we sang together. In the middle of Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy, Kenzo pulled me in for a kiss. I kissed back then pulled away. We stared at each other for a few moments before I pulled him in again. We laughed and put our foreheads together and hugged.

1989. President George H. W. Bush was inaugurated and the Berlin Wall fell after 28 years. Kenzo and I had been together for 13 years at this point.

You’re probably thinking, “13 years and no ring?” Well, for one we were permanently 16 years old and two, our parents would never allow it. And besides, we were fine with just dating.

We were sitting in the town square, facing the statue of Joseph Crackstone when I rested my head on his shoulder and interlaced our fingers. He was reading to me as I listened. I was content just lying there, hearing his voice.

“Yoko?” He asked, closing his book. I was in the middle of braiding a piece of my hair as I hummed in response. I was too preoccupied by my hair so I rolled off the bench when he told me the following.

“I think we should see other people.”

I started at him for a few moments before I pulled myself back up to sit back on the bench. “Why? Is it something I did?”

“What? No, Yoko. Of course not.” He told me, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear and pulling me into a cheek kiss. I turned away from him, crossing my arms.

He continued to talk, “I just...I feel like we’re been friends since 1909, that’s a long time. We need to take a break. We can still be friends, of course.”

“If you don’t like me, just say it.”

He just stared at me until I stood up, grabbed my bag and headed towards the flowershop next to Uriah’s Heap. “Nice knowing you, Kenzo. もしかしたら別の人生で.”

I never saw him again after that day. Last I heard of him, he had been killed by a normie on his way home in June of 1990. He was stabbed through the heart. He was 93 years old.

1991. I had been around for 93 years at this point. My father was away in Japan on business and my mother had went off to work. I was home alone.

Our new neighbors had moved in the morning before. They were a family of psychics. Their oldest daughter was named Francine and she was beautiful. She had red hair, brown eyes. And the cutest freckles across her nose and cheeks.

I was in love with her from the moment I saw her.

I was working at Uriah’s Heap when she came in with her friends, laughing and talking. They were wearing Nevermore uniforms. I hadn’t even heard of Nevermore at this point, despite it being around since the 1700s. I watched Francine from the counter as she looked around the clothes and other items in the store.

That night, I begged my parents to let me enroll. I knew we had the money due to my dad’s job. So, after hours and hours of pleading and begging, they let me go.

We met with Headmaster Nightstar the next morning. He could tell how badly I wanted to go to this school. He asked me to wait out in the hall while he spoke to my parents. I bounced on my heels, looking at the different art and plaques on the walls.

Then Francine bumped into me. I was completely enamored by this girl, so much so I literally forgot how to speak English and reverted to Japanese.

She looked at me like I had three heads. I blinked at her twice and laughed. Taking a deep breath, I stuck out my hand and introduced myself. “Yoko Tanaka. Vampire. I’m your neighbor.”

“Francine Lawrence, psychic. Nice to meet you.”

Francine and I were inseparable from then on. We went over to each other’s houses, we had sleepovers, we gossiped. We had fun. We were sitting in our shared dorm when she confessed that she had a crush on me. I immediately kissed her in response. We were together for eight years before she moved to New York with her family.

2024. I met some of the best people in my life who I wouldn’t trade for anything. I know these people wouldn’t leave me. We have a bond that no one can break and I love them with my heart. I went a bubbly pink werewolf, her goth girlfriend, a queen bee siren and an adorable, gorgeous girl who I fell in love with.

I have been on this earth for 126 years. People have come in and out of my life for different reasons. They all have taught me something. Never take this life for granted, do what you can when you can.

୨ৎ

Divina pressed a little kiss to her cheek before laying her head on Yoko’s shoulder. “We love you, Yoks.”

“I must say, your story was quite interesting.” Wednesday said, her hands fold in her lap as Enid ubbraided and rebraided her hair. “How many victims have you had over the years?”

Enid swatted her arm, “You can’t just ask that!”

“I never really fed on humans, more small animals when I could.”

“Pity.” Wednesday crossed her arms.

Bianca rolled her eyes, smiling as Thing finished he nail design. She fistbumped him and turned to her friends, “Who wants to watch a movie?”

Yoko scooted in with Divina as Bianca turned the movie on. She whispered, “I really love you, Div.”

“And I really love you, honey.”

[firecurls-27]

I would absolutely love to hear about your new cupchal fankids and is there anything new about the current ones?

(Holy shit this was forever ago-)

Yayayay I’d be happy to tell you! (Both fun facts and new facts!!!!)

Important info: these guys grew/growing up in the 40s-50s, cuphead is not grail’s father, elder kettle outlived the cupbro’s parents, I might make more cupchal kids if I gain more ideas-

Grail

- 16 (oldest)

- nothings really changed personality wise, he still doesn’t like cuphead.

- he used to have a twin sister but I decided just not to use her because I had no ideas for her.

- he has a crush on a guy who works at the soda fountain, and takes all his siblings as an excuse to talk to him.

- has an interest in cars and mechanics.

- owns a motorcycle.

- has no connection to his biological father, yet misses him dearly.

- has a part-time job in janitorial work.

- loves singing and dancing with his mom.

Minty

- 14

- adores those 50s skirts with the poodles and the fun patterns

- gets very overstimulated easily (I can imagine why she’s bullied by her siblings constantly)

- her anxiety is so bad. Oh my god it’s so bad.

- if anything happens the others blame it on her. (Except grail and the twins, they’re better than that.)

- loves music and hopes to be as good as her parents.

- despite not being very sociable, she gets love letters constantly from kids in her grade asking her for dates. Cuphead disapproves of this.

- loves both her parents equally and gets stressed when someone makes her choose sides-

Camo

- 13

- mamas boy.

- loves baseball and hopes to be a baseball player someday.

- porcy-Lynn’s partner in crime (more like a villain sidekick)

- terrible at math. Has minty tutor him.

- loves music and hopes to be as good as his parents.

- thinks before he does.

- good at piano like his pop.

- if he gets in trouble he pins it on minty. She’ll take the fall.

- secretly has a pet turtle he doesn’t let anyone know about.

- inherited the country boy-ness. Likes to help out elder kettle with his property.

Pepper & Lemony

- 12 (lemony is 5 minutes older)

- stereotypical “creepy twins” but in reality they just hate people.

- lemony has an interest in herbology, specifically the poisonous plants.

- pepper has an interest in biology, specifically bones.

- both terrible at singing.

- one prefers women over men, and the other prefers men over women. But I’ll let you guess which is which. ;)

- they both have preferred parents, but won’t say who.

- minty tutors them in math.

- they don’t trust Grail that much, but likes that he takes them out for ice cream.

- they rarely sing with their siblings, but enjoy it.

- one has a black cat, the other has a white cat.

- they love Grimms fairytales and always had cuphead read it to them when they were small.

- defend minty when she gets blamed for Lynn and Camo’s antics.

Porcy-Lynn

- 9

- if Shirley Temple could swear.

- her “hair” is made from coffee foam.

- she really is a sweetheart deep down. deep. deep down.

- ride-or-die.

- loves music and hopes to be as good as her parents.

- inspired by Darla Dimple. Just a little bit less evil.

- criminal mastermind. Has all of 4th grade wrapped around her finger.

- her middle name is “Vessel” after the grandfather she never got to meet. They would’ve been best friends.

- cuphead gives her several nicknames such as sweetness, firecracker, honey-bun, and so on.

- daddy’s girl <:)

- very upset that she’s no longer the youngest.

- if she gets in trouble she pins it on minty. She’ll take the fall.

Junior

- 2 months (youngest)

- just a lil fella.

- just sits there.

- no problems.

- he likes to scream.

- loves his blankie. :)

As I said I may create more kids in the future but who knows ;)

[betweenthings2]

"George is kind of partial to the little skirts and dresses that have been ceded to Matty by girls" - if you were ever to expand on this i would looooove it

i really enjoyed your dresses series and i am not even really a milex fan

Thank you for the ask, and oh my god, Dresses!! Dresses was a little out of my comfort zone when I started it, so I wasn't really sure what the response would be, so I'm thrilled you liked it, even as someone who's not a Milex fan!! 💚💚💚 I don't have a prompt list to link here, which feels wrong to me (no fault of anyone but me--there is something fundamentally wrong with me) so all the prompt lists on my blog are tagged as prompts. I know I've been a little slow with getting to prompts, but my inbox is always open and I should have more time soon.

Anyway, here's a thing about fictional!Matty in a little dress. It's not smut, even though I know this was inspired by a smut prompt, but someday soon I will write fictional!Matty in a dress/skirt smut, I promise.

This feels vaguely Antichrist-coded, so do with that what you will.

Matty is pretty, that's the only word for him. He's pretty in a way that makes girls a little bit jealous, especially when George wraps an arm around his waist, possessive, and holds him close. Still, despite Matty's tendency to induce jealousy, he makes friends with girls easily and quickly. Sometimes, he feels a bit like he's like a pet that these girls like to dress up and parade around, but Matty doesn't really mind, especially since he often ends up inheriting clothes from them. Plus, George loves the short skirts and little dresses that Matty has begun to collect.

George has a favorite out of Matty's growing collection, of course he does, but it's usually whatever Matty wore most recently. Mostly, he likes it when Matty gets dressed up. Tonight, though, it seems Matty is intent on making George have a true favorite.

Matty comes out of the bedroom as they're getting ready to out in a little black dress and a leather jacket. George likes the dress, it's cute and flattering and he likes just about everything Matty wears, but he's worn more provocative things, worn things that make George feel like he needs to have an arm around Matty to remind everyone that he's going home with someone already.

Matty does a little spin in the living room, when he comes out of the bedroom, earning a smile from George, and asks, "What do you think?"

"I love it," George answers, standing to pull Matty in for a kiss, arm wrapping around his waist over his jacket.

"You should. I had to beg to borrow this," Matty responds.

George cocks his head, both curious and unsure of how he's meant to respond. Matty has another little black dress that George thinks looks a whole lot like what he's wearing now. This dress might be a little bit shorter and has sleeves, but it's really not all that different.

"You'll see," Matty says.

Matty isn't going to say anything else and they're due to meet other people, so George follows Matty out of the flat. He pulls Matty into his side with an arm around his waist as they walk to the tube station. He also clocks every glance Matty get's, men's eyes lingering on the point where the hem of his dress meets his thighs, partially obscured by sheer tights. George tightens his arm around Matty, some kind of id, animal instinct telling him claim the pretty little thing next to him. Never mind that Matty is claimed in all but words. The bruises on Matty's sides, the ones from last night are in the shape of George's hands. George is the one who left the very obvious hickey on Matty's neck, just below the point of his jaw, something that Matty has made no effort to hide. It's George's side that Matty is tucked into as the stand on the tube platform, waiting for the train. It's George who will get to run his hands under that little skirt, George who will get to undress Matty. Still, he wants to claim.

"You're possessive," Matty comments when they get off the tube and George sends a glare toward someone evidently looking at Matty wrong.

"No, I'm not," George protests.

Matty scoffs. "That poor bloke wasn't even looking at me," he says, nodding towards the young man George sent hurrying away with a glare. "I mean, not in a way you shouldn't like."

"Just because I don't like people fuckin'," a pause, "eye-fucking you doesn't make me possessive."

Matty pauses when they get out onto the sidewalk to light a cigarette, and when the flood of people leaving the station have passed he crowds into George's space, thigh between his legs, and pushes, murmuring, "You want everyone to know that it's your bed I'm in? You want everyone to know you're the only one who gets to touch me? You want everyone to know I belong to you? You want everyone to know that you claimed me, that I'd do anything for you? You like it when people know that?"

"Matty," George warns, voice low.

Matty takes a drag from his cigarette and continues, "Do you like having me as a pretty thing on your arm? Do you like feeling like you can control me, like you're in charge?"

Matty doesn't quit, won't unless George makes him, so he takes a fistful of Matty hair and takes the cigarette from between his fingers, taking a drag, then tossing it away, and asks, "Do I need to control you? Do you need someone to tell you what to do?"

Matty is quiet for a moment, appreciating that George has reacted exactly the way he wanted, then pretends to get small and concede, saying, "You're in charge, G. I'm yours."

George lets go of Matty's hair and leans down for a kiss, soft and sweet, then says, "You're horrible."

Matty reorganizes his curls and responds, "And you're possessive."

Matty doesn't give George the opportunity, just heads down the street, George hurrying to catch up to him. George doesn't bother continuing the argument when he catches up to Matty, just pulls him back into his side to keep walking down the street. Matty doesn't try to provoke anything more, either. He likes walking like this--George is warm and solid and Matty loves him, no matter how provocative he can be.

George's arm around Matty's waist gets tighter when they get to the bar they're meant to be at. They're later than they said they'd be, in part due to Matty's pushing, so Adam, Ross, and their girlfriends are already inside and have congregated around a table with drinks. Matty is quick to volunteer to go get himself and George drinks, shrugging off his jacket and promising he doesn't mind before he makes his way to the bar.

And then George realizes why Matty had begged to borrow the dress. The back is open, revealing the smooth, pale skin of Matty's back and the tattoo on his shoulder. George has a matching tattoo, but before he can think too much about that, he realizes that cut of the dress is such that the bruises he left last night are on display. When he realizes that the whole bar can see it, that animal part of his mind is incredibly pleased, proud that he left those marks on Matty, proud that he's marked Matty as his. And then he wants to take Matty home, stop anyone else from looking at him, love him.

George is pulled out of his thinking by an elbow to his ribs and Ross saying, "You're staring."

"Piss off," George mutters in response. "I'm, well, don't you watch when your girlfriend leaves?"

Ross half shrugs. "I guess, but I also don't the weird shit you two do. I've never, uh-"

Ross is cut off by Matty returning with drinks, fitting himself against George's side and asking, "You've never what, Ross?"

"Uh, I've never done half the shit George does to you?" Ross tries, though he says it like it's a question. To be fair, though, it's not really his fault--it's hard to be confident when Matty looks at you like he's half feral and can read your mind.

Matty paints faux sympathy across his face and begins, "I didn't know-"

"Be nice, Matthew," George interrupts. "It's-"

"No," Ross cuts in. "I'm not watching you two do this weird, possessive, power play bullshit all night. No way in hell."

Matty and George both go quiet for a moment, sipping their drinks, before Matty leans closer to say, "I told you so."

[yourlocal-goodgirl]

So I’m a guy, and I know that society treats me differently than it does women, but I have a pretty bad case of depression and body dysmorphia as well. To the point where once I lost all the weight, I then started abusing steroids. The type of steroids that I was using are notorious for exacerbating pre-existing mental health issues. I was the “fat kid” my whole life growing up and even when I was in my absolute best shape, all I saw was a fat fuck when I looked in the mirror.

It takes a massive amount of work to see through the filter that your brain puts over your eyes, but I swear to you that it’s possible. I’m still very picky with what shirts I wear because of how they fit. I still feel guilt about some of the foods I eat. Some days I will refuse to look at myself naked in the mirror. But most days I’m okay.

I’m so sorry that you struggle with social anxiety and seeing yourself in a positive light. But like the others have stated already, there’s definitely someone out there that finds you attractive.

If you’re interested, I’d be happy to come out of anonymous and discuss it more with you and show you pics of when I was struggling. Idk if it will help, but I felt I should at least offer.

thanks for sharing this. it's obvious that women are treated very poorly based on their weight, body shape, appearance, etc. but people don't often take into consideration the effect that media and body shaming have on men as well. men aren't allowed to talk about it either, they aren't allowed to talk about how they feel about their body or how it's impacting their mental health. it's seen as this horrible thing to ever comment on a woman's body, but comments are constantly made about men's bodies to their faces. body dysmorphia, especially muscle dysmorphia, is more common than you'd think in men but literally nobody talks about it. i swear i'm not being a pick-me lol, my degree is in psychology and i've just seen firsthand what BDD looks like in a man and how hard it can be to try to get help for. it sucks. no person, man or woman, should have to feel bad about themselves because of the way others treat them. you're strong and brave and i'm so glad you've gotten to a place where you feel okay most days! i've healed tremendously from my eating disorder after several years of intensive therapy and being put into an outpatient program for a few months. it was something i genuinely never thought i was going to be able to recover from, but i did. so i'm hoping and praying that the same might be able to happen to me someday with my body image issues. i don't have to love my body or feel confident, i just want to accept it and be okay with it. i don't want to feel disgust when i see myself or hate myself because of the way i look when that's such an insignificant part of who i am as a person. i want to get better, i just don't know how when society is so fucking mean to women like me. idk. that was a long rant i apologize.

you're more than welcome to shoot me a dm if you want to talk more about this. it's something i'm pretty open about so yeah, any time.