#asking me questions is NEVER annoying if anything i feel like my long winded answers are annoying hdjbccjscdhj

[delightfuldevin]

I am staring SO hard yes bestie give me EVERYTHING on your Mario S/I. I'm so fascinated by the part Shine Sprite part, reminds me of the Peach is a Super Star (Grand Star? Star Spirit??) reborn theory from forever ago. Would LOVE to delve more into the lore ramifications of that.

I hope it's okay I ask more like. Specific questions?? Sorry if this is a little annoying I just love to learn other people's S/I lore...

Like, what's his timeline? How old are the main characters compared to him? How old are the Koopalings when he meets them? HOW did he almost die to the Odyssey Dragon (another game I haven't PLAYED but have seen playthroughs of)? What's with Wingman King boo? What's he do in-game style? What's his opinion on Peach? E. Gadd?? Gooigi??

And also could I, when I get my bones together, draw him because he is very cool and I would love to doodle him some if that's okay

I’M GONNA RUN OUT OF HEART EMOJIS TO THROW AT YOU SOON

So yeah, cut again cause I just love talking a lot and giving copious amounts of information dhbcbjhhsdshcjvsxh

So, I don’t have an idea of ages for anyone, except Bowser Jr who is somewhere around 6 or 7? Ludwig is actually close to my age I think, and I imagine that he probably calls me by name rather than the same parental term the others call me (Ven or Venny). Though, I think he’d use Ven sometimes. I like to go by the SMB3 order for the Koopalings’ ages, so youngest to oldest is Larry, Morton, Wendy, Iggy, Roy, Lemmy, and Ludwig. Larry is older than 12. That’s all I can really say on that jbcjxncjshc

There is an age gap between Bowser and I, but I’m not sure exactly how much. I think Dragon-Koopas age differently than even regular Koopas, let alone humans, so I’m not too sure on his age. Cause in the games when everyone is babies (Partners in Time, Yoshi’s Island, etc) Baby Bowser can speak full coherent sentences and walk while the bros and Peach are just making baby noises and crawling. Sure, maybe he’s just a lot older than them, but I like to think they are somewhat close in age chronologically and his species just matures faster mentally. I like to think the bros and Peach are either the same age as me or within a year or two of me.

(When I was a kid, I thought every media made for kids only had kid or teen characters. So yes, I thought the bros and Peach were teenagers, even with the bros’ thick impressive ‘staches. The only, and I mean only, reason I knew Bowser was an adult was because he had kids. After learning about the Yoshi’s Island games, which I also have never actually played, I realized they all had to be adults since they were all babies at the same time.)

King Boo is my bestie!! First time I saw him was actually in Mario Kart DS in the mission where you play as Peach and collect coins and he steals them from you. At the time, all I knew about him was that he was a king and he liked stealing my coins. Next time I saw him was in Mario and Sonic at the Winter Olympic Games for DS. At that point, I knew he had some history with Luigi, but I didn’t know the context. Now, he didn’t really stand out to me all that much, until Luigi’s Mansion: Dark Moon came out and I FELL IN LOVE. I thought he was sooo cool!! When I reached the end of the game and he said to Luigi “Remember that time you trapped me in a painting for all eternity? Good times” that’s when I realized that this had happened before! There was another Luigi’s Mansion game before that one! Needless to say, I was very excited to learn that.

My S/I meets King Boo in a Mario Kart tournament. They don’t even know each other, but for some reason, they feel compelled to target each other specifically. After the game and everyone splits ways, they mostly forget about each other… until my S/I accidentally stumbles into Boo Woods. Now, I’m sure you’ve noticed that my favorite color is green and it’s what I like to wear. Well, who else wears a lot of green? Luigi. And that’s who KB thinks I am when he sees me again. He jumps out to scare my S/I and my S/I throws fireballs at him in response. A couple misunderstandings resolved later, and boom! New bestie!

The whole targeting each other in Mario Kart thing remains a big part of our dynamic. If we’re on opposite teams, we usually go after each other. But if we’re on the same team, everyone else better watch out. We also throw a joint Halloween party every year! Also fun fact: my S/I initially only called him King Boo, but picked up the nickname KB from Bowser. It stands for Kool Bro.

Now, I have a headcanon that Bowser and KB are also best friends, *coughcough*and later queerplatonic partners*coughcough*, so when KB discovers Bowser and I are mutually pining for each other, he takes it upon himself to help get us together to make fun of us because he’s a good friend. He enjoyed teasing us in the early stages of our relationship cause our feelings were so painfully obvious to literally everyone but us.

As for Gadd, well, my S/I doesn’t care for him to say the least dhgfsjhbcs. My dude is faaaar too invested in his paintings that are just prisons for actual sentient beings rather than the safety and sanity of my little brother. Plus, those ghosts in LM1 weren’t even causing trouble! Just living their afterlife in a nice big house and then all of a sudden some lil onion man comes and shoves them into a painting forever. Definitely siding with KB on this one and agreeing that little onion man deserves a taste of his own medicine in his own special painting. Maybe not for eternity, but at least until he gets his shit together.

Peach is also my bestie!! It’s a bit complicated for obvious reasons dhbcsjhbdc. On one hand, my S/I enjoys being villainous with his husband and invading the Mushroom Kingdom. On the other hand, sometimes he just wants to hang out at Peach’s Castle and have tea parties and get little kissies on his cheek,, Listen, Mario canon is weird. If Bowser can be the scourge of the kingdom one minute, then get invited to go karting and sports the next, then so can I,,

In terms of actual in-game stuff, I most easily imagine my S/I as being part of a dual final boss with Bowser ala New Super Mario Bros style! That, or a penultimate boss that would happen right before Bowser. Thing is, because I’m Mario, I can’t imagine interacting with him since how do I interact with myself??? But since he’s the main character, it’s kinda hard to get around that cshbvddhh. I can imagine fighting him, but not much else. I also can’t really fit myself well into any story driven game like the rpgs cause those are actually the games that give me the biggest kin feels haha. The most I can do is that I like to imagine being a secret boss in the challenge mode (if you’ve played the M&L series, I’m talking about the boss blitz modes in Bowser’s Inside Story, Dream Team, and Paper Jam). So yeah, if not a final or penultimate boss, then definitely a secret boss cause that’s just really cool to me. Maybe even like, the boss of World 9 in the New series!!

Okay so now the Odyssey Dragon! (I know you asked this, so you obviously want to know all this, but I can’t help but feel like I am talking waaay too much shcbsjhj)

My S/I spent a lot of time being in the forest due to it being the most familiar since that’s where he first arrived. He was caught out in the forest during a really bad storm and only realized too late that the storm was being caused by a dragon passing overhead. He was struck by the dragon’s lightning and blacked out. He woke up in the clinic in the forest Toad Village a few days later with a nasty scar, cloudy vision in his left eye, and wicked lightning powers. (Fun fact: I based the eye injury on the fact that I actually do have really bad vision only in my left eye. My right eye can see great, the left one not so much).

Now, this is one of few things that only I know and my S/I doesn’t. See, in universe, he has no idea how he ended up in the Toad Clinic and absolutely thinks that he should have died in the forest. But it was actually Bowser who brought him there! At the time, Bowser would stalk him come check up on him in secret sometimes, since this was back before he started liking Bowser. One of those times happened to be during that storm. Bowser brought him to the clinic and hung around outside until he got better, then left. Bowser still has never told my S/I this because he’s (Bowser) afraid to admit that he (my S/I) could’ve really died that day ;-;

Thank you so so much for continuing to let me yell about my S/I!! I can’t tell you enough how happy it makes me that you’re so interested!! And ABSOLUTELY you can draw him whenever you want!!! I will BURY YOU in heart emojis

ALSO TELL ME ABOUT YOUR S/I SOME TIME I WANT OUR S/IS TO BE FRIENDSSSSS

[chrlvctius]

clandestine meetings

Alexia putellas x williamson reader!!

It was late afternoon, probably around 5 p.m., and the sun was setting. It was October, the fall season. The air smelled like leaves, almost like pumpkin. I was so focused on people walking down from the rooftop that I didn't notice someone joining me.

I didn't have to turn to see who it was since I knew who it was right away. Just by her hair, her height, and the vibes she radiates. I couldn't be wrong, I knew it was her. Memorising those small details about her makes me hate her because I can't seem to get over her.

She moved closer to me, leaving a small distance between us. She took out a cigarette, lit it, and went on about her business while I was at a loss for what to do beside her. I don't think starting a conversation with her would help either, so I just stood quietly, admiring the view and watching the sun set as the wind blew through my hair.

There's something about that comfortable silence. We didn't have to say anything to one other or anything like that. Or, if we did talk. We didn't have to worry about running out of topics or being awkward since simply being with her in silence is plenty; her presence is enough. Being together felt like home; it made us feel complete.

Leaning over the rail, I turned my head to check on her, and she was as lovely as ever. She was always beautiful. She was the first person who caught my attention when I moved to Barcelona. I've kept an eye on her ever since.

She continued smoking and admiring the view, while I got lost staring at her. She sighed and smiled, "You know I can see you staring, right?" she asked, turning to face me.

I couldn't think of anything to say so I just chuckled and shrugged it off.

She turned to face me, tossed her cigarette in the trash can, and moved closer to me.

"Why did you stop smoking?" I asked as she approached me.

"I don't want you to smell like smoke, plus i don't think you like it when people smoke near you" she went on to say

"That's very thoughtful of you, ale," I comment, laughing at her.

She was taken aback for a moment because she had never heard me call her by her nickname. It was my first time addressing her as such. I usually refer to her as "alexia" or "cap"

She paused for a bit before clearing her throat, "Is your sister okay?"

she said, seeming nervous

She seems to have gathered up enough courage to ask that question. Leah and Alexia weren't on the best of terms, so hearing her ask this makes my heart melt.

"She'll be fine; I'll be back home once the breaks come," I reassured her.

"I know she was against you going to Barcelona," she said as she drew closer to me than she had ever been.

"Um, yeah. She was," I answered nervously, hoping to keep it hidden because she was closer than ever right now.

"I'm pretty sure you know why she didn't want you to come here, right?" she asked, with a slight smirk on her face. She was clearly having a good time.

"Of course," I answer, trying to cover up my nervousness. Having her so near to me makes my knees shaky, like jello. Her stares make my knees wobble.

"She didn't want me coming here because she'll be alone, and we've never been separated this long, it'll be new to her, to me as well," I reply, looking wherever I can to avoid facing her because I know it'll be a dead end for me if I do.

"Come on, that's not all of it, isn't it?" she nudged me

"I'm not blind, I know the main reason why williamson doesn't want you to come here is because of me" she said with that annoying smirk on her face that I desperately wanted to erase

I just nodded and tucked my lips because she got it right

"What does she say about me? I bet she told you I was bad influence" she said and laughed

“You should surely take your older sister's advice, don't you think?"

"Like the good girl you are," she said, smirking.

We fell silent and let the breeze wash over us.

She drew nearer as I walked toward the doorway, placing both of her arms on either side of the rail to enclose me.

"Do you think I'm a bad influence? Do you agree with your sister?"

I look at her and see her eyes piercing at me, green with a tint of brown, she looked breathtaking. I felt like I could drown in her eyes.

"I don't think you are," I responded, swallowing hard.

"I'm your sister's rival, and yet you still stick with me?"

"I don't think you'd like it if I ignored you, though," I muttered, glancing down because just looking at her makes me want to pass out.

She tilted her head in such a way that it gave me butterflies. Lord, when will this end?

"Why so?" she inquired, completely teasing me.

"Would you like me to ignore you for the entire season, ale?" I said back.

She pouted at me, seeming to think about what she was about to say.

"Hmm, no. It would make me sad," she teased, smiling.

"Sad, why?" I inquired, still smiling.

"Because if I were to ignore you, that would make your sister feel relieved that I'm not circling you. I want her to be mad at me and for her to feel annoyed because it makes me happy." She grinned and moved closer to me.

"You're really messed up in the head, ale," I joke, pushing more against the rail because if I don't, you know what would happen.

"I want her to be annoyed, I want her to be angry at me, I want her to feel all the emotions," she said as she locked her gaze on mine. Her eyes seemed to want to express more, as if there was more to what she said.

"Which is why i won't be leaving you"

She whispered and stared at me for what seemed like hours. She was just staring at me, as if she was trying to memorise my face. I felt very vulnerable.

"Is that the only reason you don't want me to ignore you?" I asked, leaning closer to accept her challenge.

"Do you think there's something more?" she replied, edging closer to me until our faces were almost touching.

"I know there is"

I'm so sorry for leaving u w a cliffhanger 😭😭 i promise you there is a part 2! THERE WILL BE A PART 2 👹👹

Dm me if u wanna know some bits of the next part 😎

[abilouwrites]

ARE YOU MINE

Zuko “someone to call mine” part two!

@multifandomedsimp ily bcz u commented and that shit makes my day

It takes me two days before I text the number on the gift card, “hello?” A voice answers, I know that voice, “this is Zuko”

“I know.. it’s y/n from the other day. You gave me your number on the gift card” I nervously say, “um this is so random but would you maybe want to—“

“Yes”

“I haven’t even said the question”

“Just yes” His voice feels so desperate and it makes me feel wanted in a way I’ve never felt for a guy before.

It doesn’t take long for us to meet up, “are you sure it’s not too late?” I ask walking into the locker rooms, “I’ve got lacrosse practice”

“No, I just want to see you that’s all” he replies, “have fun”

I finish up two hours later; shower and drive to the park where we’re going to walk about. I see him; baggy jeans and crewneck which is a contrast to my leggings and hoodie. My damp hair down and scrunched up, “hey” he smiles as I walk up to him; hands tucked into my pockets.

“Hi, it’s cold out tonight. Didn’t the groundhog say it was supposed to be warm now?” I laugh a little, but my joke feels stupid now, “do you have any siblings?” I ask

He sighs, “I have a sister, Azula but she’s not right in the head” he looks down a little disappointed but sighs and looks back up, “what about you”

“I have a little sister, Suki. She’s definitely a character” I smile a little, “she’s annoying to all annoyingness but I would kill for her”

“A little sister seems nice, um how was your practice?” He asks; we’re both a little awkward and it’s nice to feel this way again

“It was good, lots of drills. Especially being Varsity captain there’s a lot of pressure to do well” I ramble, “do you do any sports?” I ask, nervously stuffing my hands into my pockets to fidget and pull at my nails

“No. I just make tea” he laughs a little, it’s a nervous and hoarse thing but it eases me comfort that he feels as I do, “I used to play soccer but I lost the passion for it. You know?” He gives a short smile as we circle around, and we find ourself back at the tea shop, “tea?”

“That..” the wind brushes through my jacket, “would be so nice” I smile as he leads me inside, we don’t take long before we get comfortable with each other. Sitting next to each other, talking about whatever.

“What was your mom like?” I ask, rubbing my hands on the cup of lotus tea to keep warm, “can I ask that?”

“I guess, she was kind, and sweet. The only one who actually tried to help poor Azula. My uncle has stepped up in her place and in my father’s too” he confesses, he looks so sad. I wrap my hand around his loose one that hangs by his side. Twisting my fingers intertwined with his.

“My dad left when I was four. I never really knew why but throughout my parents marriage he..” there’s a long exhale and I lean against him, bunching my knees to my chest, “was cheating on my mom. But she was pregnant with Suki” I pause trying to remember what happened. There was a fight, breaking glass but, “I can’t remember anything else”

“Thank you, for sharing that with me. My father was the same, he never cheated on my mother but he wasn’t a kind man either. I lied before. My scar doesn’t come from a tea pot exploding” he confesses, looking down ashamed at his own lie that doesn’t seem too horrible, “my father burned me. I think it’s a blessing I don’t exactly remember what happened”

“Yes. Maybe it is a good thing. I really like you Zuko” I admit. Maybe it’s the warm tea in my stomach or how talking about things that have hurt me so bad and not crying over it. It makes me feel good in some way

“I really like you too”

[g00d--m0urning]

Unnamed Pt. 1 (Daryl Dixon x AFAB!reader)

Part two

This is my first time writing in a long ass time, so please, feel free to leave criticism.

word count: 3208

Summary: ex-cop!Reader's world is rocked thrice over when Daryl Dixon breaks up with them, they discover their pregnant and the world goes to shit in the span of a few months. A/N: this is gender neutral, no other pronouns but you/your used. Reader is obviously AFAB since they get pregnant. Also this first part is hella slow. Basically just getting background out of the way. No y/n used. (No smut, angst? IDFK)

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

Being a cop whilst dating a criminal is… well, interesting, to say the least. And in both of your defenses, Daryl’s not, like, a murder or anything, just petty theft and trespassing and the occasional assault charge (they never go further than a slight fine, it’s a small town in Georgia, nobody gives two fucks). The problem is the eldest Dixon--Merle, the GD bane of your existence--the dumbass is constantly dragging Daryl into his shit (drugs, to be clear) and the youngest refuses to stop riding along with him. No matter how hard you try, therefore, it's a constant point in arguments; much like this one.

“You can tell him no!” you shout exasperatedly, for probably the millionth time tonight.

The ‘him’ in question is Merle Dixon, and the needed ‘no’ is Daryl refusing to ride along to one of his drug crusades. You weren’t even supposed to know about this run, Daryl kept that part of his life separate, per your request, keeping from having to turn either Dixon in, as your academy oath swore. However, the FBI had gotten wind of this trade--something about some cartel being included--and they started sniffing around in search of making a bust and you really didn’t need your boyfriend in federal prison for being associated with that.

“Nah, I can’t!” Daryl shouts right back, smacking his hand against the shitty, peeling folding table he calls a dining table.

This has been going on for probably almost an hour now; you push, he pulls and it just turns into a vicious circle. It had started as an earnest plea, asking him kindly not to go on this run and he just scoffed, continuing to scarf down the three-day-old leftovers you heated up. Now it’s this screaming match, one you’re both tired of. You go to open your mouth to ask why, but he raises a hand, cutting you off like he can read your mind (he can’t, you’ve just had this same argument so many times, you can predict the exact words to come out of each other’s mouth).

“He’s family, been there for me mah whole life,” he hasn’t, he’s been in and out of jail his whole life, but ok. “Least I can do ‘s be there for a simple run, done it a thousand times.”

You just groan in response, pinching the bridge of your nose as you pace, just trying to figure out what to say. How to change his mind. There’s a simple answer, you can’t; if there’s one thing you learnt almost immediately in this relationship is that once the Dixon mind is made up, it’s made up.

“What?” he barks, clearly annoyed by your annoyance.

“Nothing, D.” you mutter, shaking your head at this whole situation.

He huffs at that, knowing it’s not ‘nothing,’ but not wanting to know what it truly is, it’d just stoke the fire. Being the pouty baby he is, Daryl plops into a folding chair, the old hinges creaking at the intense weight add, crossing his arms over his chest. If you weren’t so mad, you’d find the scowl on his face and the way his muscles bulge attractive. A loaded silence falls over the two of you; the neighbor’s dog barks at something, presumably the car that can be heard driving across the old gravel road, a door slams, and cicadas chirp, having come back to enjoy the southern summer heat.

“You know what? No--” you set your hands on the table, putting a stop to your pacing as you look over at Daryl, something indiscernible clouding your face.

“What’re ya--” he starts, sitting up in the chair, cutting himself off as you butt in before he can finish.

“It’s not nothing, Dixon. This--” a quick gesture to the air between the two of you, “isn’t ‘nothing.’ You insisting on going on your idiot brother’s crusades isn’t ‘nothing.’ And I get that he’s family, I do, but you shouldn’t have to throw your life away to repay whatever debt you think you owe him for sticking around!”

You’re the one to get cut off this time, being silenced as he scoffs, abruptly standing up from his chair, anger evident on his face, maybe even a hint of betrayal if you looked real close.

“Fuck that’s supposed ta’ mean?” he asks, brows furrowing as he steps closer to you.

“What’s what supposed to mean?” you ask back, confused by his sudden reaction. You didn’t think you said anything wrong, just expressed a very correct opinion.

“Ya think ‘m throwing mah life away?--ain’t like I got much ahead of me, right? Not like you do, right?” he puts extra emphasis on that last right, rounding the table to stand in front of you.

Another constant topic brought up in arguments--him thinking he’s got no life ahead of him other than ending up dead or deadbeat like his parents and you, having been dealt a much better card of hands in life, having much more planned for you. No matter how much you tried to convince him he could do so much more than be a lackey for his shithead brother, he denies and you guys end up ignoring each other for days until one of you cracks.

“Well, newsflash, all of us ain’t got some shiny future waitin’ for us. Some of us got a life being a ‘lackey’ or whateva you said, fancy pants. And ‘m sorry if that ain’t good enough for ya.’” he states, invading your space inch by inch as he mocks your words.

“That’s not--that’s not what I meant. You know that’s not what I meant!” you stammer, panic slowly beginning to boil beneath the anger. If you thought he, or his family situation, or anything about him, wasn’t good enough for him you wouldn’t have put in the almost two years being his friend and another two and a half dating his stubborn ass. He continues his encroachment until you’re toe to toe,

“Sure as hell sounded like it’s whatcha meant,” he snarls, rubbing at the scruff he has yet to shave before straightening his posture, looking away for a moment. He sucks at his teeth, huffing before he looks straight at you, something you can’t make out clouding his face, “I think you should leave.”

Your face falls, tears slowly welling in your eyes as the words leave his mouth. He’s not kidding, nor was it some sort of freudian slip, he wants you out. It seems different this time, too; not some enraged get out that gets resolved with rough make up sex, or the more tearful one that usually ends with sobbing in each other's arms.

This, this is different. He doesn’t look angry, there’s no tears clawing their way through his stubborn ducts, he’s just… blank. No emotion, other than that stubborn Dixon resolution. This feels like a breakup.

“Fine, I’ll leave.” you huff, taking in a shaky breath as you turn on your heel to make the short trek to the front door. Shoes are haphazardly shoved on, the tongue stuck under your foot and laces shoved in, and your phone and keys shoved into a pocket as you head out the door, slamming the screen door shut behind you.

You don’t bother looking back, not wanting to risk the tears falling, until you hear the broken door of the Dixon trailer jimmied shut. A few tears slip from your eyes, angrily swiping at the wet streaks before continuing down the ‘driveway’ to your car.

Maybe if you stayed inside another minute you could’ve seen the tears glassing over Daryl’s eyes. Or maybe if you stayed outside another minute you would’ve heard the sound of another hole being punched into the wall of the Dixon trailer that continues out of sight as you drive away.

A few days pass by, no contact between you two, letting each other cool down; at least you thought. It’s about a week before you try talking to him the first time, having stopped by the car shop he works at to bring him lunch (a BLT from the greasy dinner, the one next to the even greasier motel near the edge of town). The only response you got was a sideways glare before he huffed and returned to fixing the neighbor’s old pick up, leaving you to put his sandwich on his toolbox and walk back to the station.

Another three days pass before you try again, approaching him in the rundown bar, but again, he ignores you, turning away and slipping into the crowd Merle had gathered. You don’t want to be desperate, but you try calling him a few times, no response to all four calls. As a week turns to two and two to three, your attempts become less and less often.

Around week four is when you got the letter; your application to attend the new agent training for the FBI has been approved. Holy-fucking-shit. You read the letter over and over until the words turn to blurry specks you can no longer decipher and that’s when the nausea kicks in, heaving into the bushes by your mailbox. You write it off as stress sickness, between your breakup and now this; I mean, it’s a big deal, going from beat cop in bumfuck Georgia to a possible FBI agent in Virginia.

You wait on the decision, debating if you want to uproot the life you’ve set up here, getting sick a few more times in the process. You try calling Daryl after a few days of thinking to no avail as he doesn’t answer; that helps you make your decision, handing in your badge the next day and spending the last few days of the week packing your stuff into a u-haul.

You stand on the last step of your shitty porch, staring at the even shittier two room house you’ve called home for the last five years, tears welling in your eyes as you think back to the memories. They’re not all good, not all bad either, and the longer you stand there the more you regret your decision, so you wipe away the few tears that slipped down your cheeks and turn away.

Away from the house, down the step and down the uneven pavement you call a driveway and to your car. You open the door of your baby (a lovely ‘69 Chevy Impala you got from an old lady a few years back), taking one more look back before sliding into the driver’s seat and starting the car: starting your new life.

Settling into your new apartment in Virginia wasn’t as hard as you thought it was going to be; honestly it was a breeze. The whole move was a breath of fresh air, it's nice being in a city where you don’t have to worry about everyone knowing everything about you. The only bad part is you still feel like crap--physically, not mentally, or not really--you’ll have to find a doctor soon anyway, the FBI academy requires your health records and you do not remember the last time you had your shots.

It’s about a week before the academy starts, so you decide it’s time to get to the hospital and get everything checked out. The doctor you booked with seems nice enough when you get there, going through a routine checkup: reflexes, blood pressure, weight, shot records and updates, all that lovely medical stuff.

“So, dear, I’m all done, unless you have any concerns of your own?” the doctor asks, tapping a manicured nail against her desktop as she looks up at you through thin framed glasses.

“Uh, yeah, actually, these past few weeks I’ve felt pretty nauseous. I don’t think it’s anything, just the stress from my move and all, but I wanted to make sure before I started work.” you tell her, a faint blush painting your cheeks under her gaze; normally you could never admit something like that, not without it getting out and people forming all sorts of conspiracies.

“Hm… Well, you’re healthy as a horse, so you’re probably not sick. It most likely is the stress.” she tells you, standing up, her heels tapping as she moves in front of you, red painted lips pursing in a thin line, “Is there any chance you could be pregnant?”

“W-what? No. No, there’s absolutely no way I could be preg--” you stammer, trailing off as you think back to about two months ago. You and Daryl had been drunk off your asses, desperate, sloppy..

“Here, the bathrooms down the hall and to the left.” she hands you a pregnancy test with a chuckle, clearly oblivious to your inner panic. “And don’t worry, this kind of thing happens all the time.”

You have to hold back the urge to glare at her when you get up from the chair, annoying hospital paper crinkling beneath you. How can she just play this off like it’s nothing? It’s not nothing, you could be pregnant! This could fuck everything up, you can’t attend FBI academy whilst pregnant.

Squatting awkwardly over the toilet so you can piss on the stick while simultaneously managing not to miss the bowl, you hum to yourself as you actively avoid meeting your own gaze in the awkwardly placed full length mirror. You finish, quickly tossing the pee-stick into the sink and deal with the rest of your business before pacing the bathroom as you wait the longest three minutes of your life.

Your phone is in and out of your pocket, continually checking the time until three minutes have finally passed; thank god. You grab a paper towel, reach in the sink and grab the test, trying to find the courage to look at the results. Before you can psych yourself out you look, your heart sinking as you stare at the two pink lines glaring up at you.

You feel sick, you are sick, apparently; there’s a full ass human growing in you. As you gag over the toilet the doctor knocks on the door, slowly pushing it open. An apparent sympathetic expression reading her brows as she moves to gently rub your back. She sits with you until your stomach is emptied, the only thing falling into the toilet being tears.

“It’ll be ok, honey, it will. No matter what you decide.” she tells you as you both exit the bathroom, having spent a good ten minutes sitting on the floor dreading the future. You haven’t a clue what she means by ‘no matter what you decide’ until she passes you a pamphlet for an abortion clinic, offering you a pity smile as you leave the room.

The rest of the day is a blur, between swinging moods between rage and depression it’s hard to keep track of when what happened. You can’t go back to Georgia, you don’t want to go back to Georgia, but what’s going to happen? You know absolutely nobody and your plans have been utterly fucked. So, what? Get rid of the kid? Maybe? No. Maybe… No. Just get a job, raise a kid, yep, sure; this has to be the worst thing ever.

Surprisingly the next month of pregnancy isn’t horrible, you snagged a desk job at the local police department, and you’ve been setting roots down. The doctor--Lillian, you learn, the doctor from before--has been a big help, a friend, you’d consider her; she has a kid of her own with her wife and has been coaching you through your first trimester of growing an unnamed fetus growing within you.

You’re sitting pretty in your OB/GYN’s office, waiting for her to come in and do your four month ultrasound and tell you the gender, which you hope is some because if you have to listen to anymore of the incessant drone of the news anchor you might go insane.

Finally she walks in, all chipper smiles and pink gloves as she wheels the ultrasound machine in behind her. The gel is cold, making you hiss as it’s smeared across your stomach, the tech chuckling at the reaction.

“Do you have any names picked out yet?” she asks, getting the machine all kicked up and ready. She tuts playfully, as you shake your head no, waving a hand through the air. “Well, no pressure, I had a friend who didn’t pick a name until her kid was crowning.”

You cringe at that, finding it to be way too much information; if there’s one thing you know for certain, it’s that you’re getting a c-section. Natural birth seems scary as shit.

“Are you excited to find out the gender?” is the next question asked as she drags the transducer across your stomach, trying to pinpoint the child. You shake your head again, a ‘yes’ this time.

“Yeah, I am. I don’t have a preference, but I figured knowing the gender would take a little stress off, knowing what to buy and all.” you tell her, pulling a chuckle from both of you. She nods in agreement, cheering quietly as she finally finds the baby.

“In that case, I am happy to tell you that you are having a…” she moves the wand around a little more, squealing happily, seemingly having found the right angle, “girl, it’s a girl! Congrats!” she beams, reaching around to press the print button on the machine.

A sigh leaves your lips as you stare up at the black and white blob that is your baby; a baby girl apparently. Wow. You smile as she hands you the pictures, ‘Congratulations’ scrawled on the bottom of the film.

You can’t seem to find words as the doctor hands you a paper towel to wipe the excess gel off, her head wiggling as she celebrates on your behalf. She busies herself with cleaning everything up as you pull your pants pack on properly, ready to leave the room before something catches your attention.

There’s a red banner rolling at the bottom of the TV, words flashing ‘breaking news.’ You tap the doctor’s shoulder, asking her to turn the volume up on the TV. Her face falls at the sight, nodding as she clicks the volume up several notches.

“Breaking news, multiple reports of a virus outbreak have been recorded in the last several hours. There has been little comment from the government--Wait, one moment please,” is the only thing you manage to hear before a loud and annoying blare emits from the TV, “This is not a drill, I repeat this is not a drill,” and back to the news guy.

“This just in, cities are going on lockdown, soldiers invading hospitals and the government is advising everybody to stay in their homes. Do not try leaving your city, stay at home or indoors. There has been an outbreak. I repeat--” what the fuck? You listen to the spiel again, trying to wrap your head around what he’s saying.

A nurse rushes in, ushering you out of the room and out the front door, bidding you good luck. There’s already panic starting in the streets; people are flooding stores and cars jamming the streets.

You know how you said being pregnant was the worst thing ever? Scratch that.

[michellymy]

I decided I’ll add short backstories after each chapter (probably). So now I added one and update some tiny details in the other chapters. (Ugh, it’s so annoying to update things in three apps, cuz I use Docs, then AO3, then Wattpad 😭)

AO3 / Wattpad

9 Y - 11 M - 22 D

“Are you coming later?”

“Uh… I don’t know if my mum will let me go, especially in this weather.” He looked at the sky outside. That storm was about to collapse everything, for certain.

“Jesus, Ethie! Your mum will never let you visit us?!”

The boy smiled sheepishly and fixed the backpack straps. “She’s worried. We never stay away from each other, you know?”

“You are away now.” Sam raised his brows while pushing the door open.

“The teachers are looking,” Ethan said while dodging the loud children. “It’s not the same as going home with you.”

“My mum will be there, why would she be worried about anything?!” He glanced at his friend. “Sometimes I think she’s too protective of you; just saying.”

Ethan grimaced. “I know, but…”

It was his mum. It was normal for her to be worried, right? It meant she loved him a lot. It meant she cared. There was no reason for him to be mad.

Not when she was there at the entrance, with two umbrellas at hand. She always came to get him in time, no matter the situation.

And his mum had the prettiest smile ever.

“Hi, sweetheart.” She kissed his forehead softly before patting his head. “Did you have a good day?”

“Yeah, mum! The teacher tried to make an experiment, but he had the wrong ratio, so I taught him how he could fix it!”

“Nice job, Ethan,” she smiled. “I bet the teacher was deeply impressed by you.”

“More likely depressed…” mumbled Sam.

Ethan heard it and he knew his mother heard as well. It was that brief twitch in her ear that gave her feelings out.

At that moment, Ethan wanted to have telepathic conversations with her, so he could gently say, “MUM, YOU CAN’T ARGUE WITH MY FRIENDS! I WON’T TALK TO YOU ALL DAY IF YOU DO IT!”, but as he didn’t have this power, he just begged internally she’d understand his intentions.

She gazed at him and glared at Sam for a tense, long moment. The boy averted his eyes, retreating a step, and Ethan was ready to snoop in to help his friend.

But then her polite smile came back.

“Hi, Sammy. How is Mrs. Price doing?”

Ethan exhaled and nudged Sam to answer, who frowned and whined lowly before turning to the woman.

“She’s fine, Ms. Yaneh, thanks for asking.” He looked at Ethan and cleaned his throat. “By the way… I asked her earlier, and she said Ethan could come over after school. If you let him. She said she’d get us by car because of the storm.”

“Did she?” Ethan whispered.

“She did.”

“But didn’t you say you’d ask her when s—“

”She did,” Sam scowled at him.

Ethan finally understood and got quiet. Sam was predicting the future, as he liked to describe his lies. He was used to saying things he hoped would happen—and they mostly did—, but Ethan wasn’t in the mood to risk it with his mum. Should he meddle in?

“Oh…” She turned at the view. “Why go by car when you can walk? The weather is nice today.”

The kids looked in the same direction she was looking at. They saw no living beings out there. They heard the rain making holes in the roof. They shivered with the cold wind. It didn't seem it would stop soon.

“Nice weather?...” Ethan tried slowly.

“Yes, it's refreshing and the sun won't bother you. Truly wonderful… Don't you think so?” She sounded genuinely confused. “Ah, is it because you don't like the noise, son? At home, it’s not that loud; you will feel better when we get there. Let me carry your bag.”

Ethan didn't question. It was “mum being mum”, so he just handed her the bag.

“Wait, wait, wait!” Sam interrupted. “You are not thinking of going in that storm, are you?! Why didn't you park your car closer, Ms. Yaneh?!”

“I didn't bring the car, Sammy.” She put the bag on. “Didn't you hear? It's a nice weather to walk.”

“But you're going to get drenched!” He fiercely pointed outside. “It’s raining!”

“...yes, I have noticed, thank you.” She gave an umbrella for Ethan. “Shall we go? I have to cook lunch.”

“Ma'am!” Sam got between her and Ethan, spreading his arms open. “You can't do it! Isn't it better to talk to my mum, so she can take us home by car? I'm sure lunch will be ready!”

“Sam, don't…”

“You can't possibly be okay with it too, right, Ethie?! You will get sick!”

People were gathering around, already muttering about a fight that would start.

“It’s Ethan, again.”

“Ohh, he must be destroying that loser!”

“Is that his mother? Won't she stop them?”

Oh no, they were getting it all wrong. Ethan wasn't fighting anyone this time! And can't they see it's Sam? Why would he do such a thing to him?!

However, Ethan realized his mother wouldn't care about fighting a kid or two…

She pushed Sam out of the way a little more intensely than necessary and held Ethan’s hand to pull him close to her.

“I appreciate your concern, Sammy Price,” she replied dryly, “but I know exactly what I am doing. I'd also appreciate it if you cease your insistence, so don't try asking once again if Ethan can go to your home—he will go when he's ready for it. Meanwhile, feel free to visit us with a previous warning.”

Ethan visibly cringed as his mum pulled him away. He should say sorry to Sam, but how could he, if he couldn't even say bye?! She just kept leading him forward, creating more rumors to his scholarly life.

“You saw it?! Even Ethan’s mum is cool!”

“Of course, she is! He had to learn it from someone!”

“I’d be the happiest kid alive if I had a badass mum like her…”

Argh, for the stars! They'd keep saying it the whole week, asking Ethan a thousand questions, and importunating his studies! That was terrible! Horrible! His life ended!

When they were finally alone, Ethan stomped in place, screaming to be heard over the rain.

“MUM, why did you have to do that?!”

“Do what?” She fixed his umbrella over his shoulder. “Stating the obvious for that child?”

“Being rude to Sam! He was suggesting something good for us, not a kidnapping!”

“Is that so? Next time, tell him I only accept useful suggestions.” She held his hand and pulled him to move. “No, to be more exact, tell him not to suggest anything if I haven't asked.”

“MUM, I'M SERIOUS!”

“And so am I, Ethan! I honestly don't understand why you would befriend someone like him, but you still want it, so I’m not trying to stop you…” She sighed and glanced at him. “I just want you to be careful, sweet. You are very special to me, and I get worried about what could happen when I'm not there for you… Can you try to understand my side?”

“I understand, mum! But you also need to understand my side!” He pouted. “I’m almost ten! I'm growing! I can live without you for a few hours, you know?!”

She gripped his hand and looked away.

Ethan stepped inside a puddle.

The rain filled the silence, constant with its sound.

Why was she taking so long to answer back? She'd sometimes lose her words when the subject was her, but it didn't happen when it was his demands. She'd find a way to make him satisfied, then laugh about how stubborn they both were.

Why was she thinking so hard? Was she really scared that Ethan would get hurt by visiting Sam? If so, she must have a reason, right? She wouldn't think this just because.

“...If it's dangerous, I won't ask for it, mommy. I'm sorry.”

“It’s not dangerous, it’s just…” She could barely be heard, as she wasn't even facing him. “You're right, you're growing. I should be the one sorry for not realizing it. I'll let you go to Sammy’s house.” She swallowed and grinned at him. “But could you wait until you're ten? I wanted to stay these last days, you and me, doing our things together. Before you turn full grown-up, right?”

He smiled and lowered his head. “I was kidding, mommy, I won't be a grown-up when I'm ten!”

“You lied to me, you little menace?!” She let go of his hand to pinch his nose. “I was completely worried that I'd need to buy you L sized clothes, and you were kidding?!”

“AHH, I'M SORRY! LEMME GO, MOMMY!”

They laughed and joked all the way back home, ignoring the rain and all the cars who passed by throwing water.

Somehow, they didn't get a drop wet.

[sweetainwen]

𝐓𝐎 𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊 [MR. SCARLETELLA]

Summary: a journal, a game and a spell. Nothing in common, but if you mix them together you may never come back.

Pairings: yandere!Mr. Scarletella x paranormal sensitive!fem!OC (you can think of her as Y/N)

Genre: paranormal!au, supernatural!au

A/N: sorry if my Latin is not good, it has been so long since I last studied it

The room was dark. The only source of light was candles arranged in a circle around the young woman sitting cross-legged on the floor.

She mumbled words from the book in her hands repeatedly, then huffed in frustration after every unsuccessful attempt of pronunciation.

The air became heavy, the small flames of the candles danced slightly as if driven by a sudden wind.

It was approaching her, silent and unscrupulous.

It rested on her shoulder and she let out a startled cry at that unexpected touch, wincing in place.

She turned around and brought a hand to her racing heart, noticing her with the outstretched hand that she had decided to use as an instrument of terror.

“For fuck's sake, Yua! You scared the shit out of me!”

“What are you doing, Ichika? At 3 in the morning?” she inquired with a resigned sigh and crossed arms, one foot tapping on the ground.

“Oh. Well...” Ichika got up, closing the book with a smile, “just a few researches.”

Yua groaned, completely aware of what type of researches she was talking about. Seriously, it was getting annoying.

She pinched the bridge of her nose, the eyeglasses going up in the process, “Ichika Okamoto, keep going with your bullshit and I'll kick you out of this house.”

She pouted, “Hey! I'm your favorite cousin, you can't do this to me!”

“First, it’s my house. Second, this is not your first time disturbing my sleep. Third, Laura had to call me to stop you. Again.”

“Oh, come on, Laura! Give me a break!” her cousin complained as she looked around, her arms falling to her sides. “I just wanted to see if this book works! You didn’t need to snitch on me!”

“Was it required the use of candles like you're doing a ritual to try that book?” she pointed at the incriminating objects on the floor, a deadpan expression making way on her face.

An innocent blink was her first reply, “It's just for the vibes. The atmosphere.”

Yua saw her hands gesturing around the room and, after a few seconds of silence, clicked her tongue.

Her posture did not change at all, on the contrary, she began to tap her foot again before a sigh left her lips.

“I'm sleepy, in a couple of more hours there's work. Both for you and me. Go to bed, we'll talk after work.”

Ichika nodded with a salute, “Aye, captain!”

Yua just snorted a chuckle. Her gaze rested on her right, feeling a chill on her own arm. The dark figure channeled through her the way it was feeling, and Yua bowed her head slightly in gratitude.

“Thank you, Laura.”

A warm sensation and a giggle was the ghost's response.

“What is she doing?”

“Laughing at you.”

Ichika grimaced, “Snitcher of a ghost.”

Yua sensed Laura’s presence near her cousin, and after a strong push, the book in her hand hit the ground, causing Ichika to grunt.

“Seriously?!”

Yua chuckled.

“Miss Okamoto! Miss Okamoto!”

Yua had just left the door of her workplace when she heard herself being called. She turned around and noticed a young man smiling at her before joining his palms together.

“Thank you so much! Your advice was a great help!”

“I’m glad to hear that, Mr. Itou.” She bowed her head, “I hope you don't get entangled with such scams anymore.”

“I won’t! Thank you again!”

She gave him a smile and resumed her walk toward the awaiting car, sensing the driver's amused gaze on her.

She expected her offhand comment as soon as she got into the car, and it did not take long to come.

“Asked you out this time?” A reproachful look was the answer to that question, and Ichika shrugged as she set off, “What? I didn’t say anything bad. He’s single.”

“He was the husband of a patient. Who died six months ago.”

“If he hadn’t believed in the supernatural, he would have probably seen your advice to help him with his wife’s unfinished business as a flirtatious intent.”

She rolled her eyes, “Why so interested in my love life? Think about your own love life instead. As soon as they find out you have a passion for the supernatural and the paranormal they run for the hills. Not a single one lingers at least a little.” She grinned, “Oh! And when they know that your cousin senses and sees shadows of dead people? Uuuuh!”

Ichika let out a humph, turning right after stopping at a red light.

Yua just chuckled under her breath, knowing that this was a weakness of hers.

“I haven’t find the right one yet, that’s all.”

“If you say so. By the way,” she looked at her, “are you still trying that book?”

“Key word: trying.” She pouted, “It’s in latin, I can’t understand shit.”

Yua frowned, “Latin? All in latin?”

“Yeah. All in latin. It’s frustrating.”

A strange feeling came over when she saw her eyes light up and a smile spread on her face. Ichika gazed at her for a moment before looking back at the road.

She hoped it was not what she thought.

“You know latin, don't you?”

Yua inhaled before she grunted.

Yes, that was what she thought.

“Seriously?”

Ichika stepped on the brake at the red light and used this opportunity to look at her with puppy eyes and pouting lips.

They stood still, silence the only companion, until Yua eventually relented, dropping dead weight onto the seat and turning her head to the other side.

Her cousin's chuckle made her sigh. She was still unable to say no, not with that cute face in front of her.

“So? What does it say?”

She snorted a laugh at her feet bouncing up and down as she clapped her hands together, the swivel chair bouncing with each of her movements, and her computer turning on.

She turned another page of the book, crossing one leg over the other, ready for her disappointed reaction.

“Instructions.”

Ichika blinked, immobilized, “What?”

“Instructions on how to love someone, care for them, never take them for granted, and how to be loved back.” She looked up at her, “It’s more of a journal than a book of spells.”

“I was excited for nothing.” Ichika dropped her shoulders, then fell back onto the chair and clicked on one of the many icons on her desktop.

“But where did you find it?”

“In a secret compartment of the last drawer of the bedside table. Are you sure it's not yours, Laura? It looks as old as you.”

A breath of whispered words filled with disdain reached her ears and Yua let out a whistle of surprise.

“She didn't like it.”

Laura was a foreigner who had lived in this apartment thirty years before. Since her death from a slip in the bathroom that caused her to hit her head, she had remained to haunt it and prevent anyone from buying it.

Until Yua came along.

Yua understood her sadness and grief of losing her life at only twenty-five years old.

And Laura was aware of her sensitivity regarding the spiritual and non-corporeal world.

Or surely it was a matter of sympathy. She just liked Yua.

Consequently, she had decided to let her in and live with her.

She left the 90s style that adorned the place, both as a favor to Laura and for her own personal taste. She didn't mind it at all.

She had not expected, however, that a year later Ichika would also be there. Nor had Yua herself actually expected it.

They had always been close since childhood, especially because of Yua's sixth sense and Ichika's love of things not of this world. She was the only one who stood by her side along with her father.

The fun part about living with a slightly grumpy ghost and a bubbly cousin were the sisterly squabbles they had.

Like now.

“I didn't say anything untrue, though.” A slight pain in her scalp led her to touch the injured part, “Ouch! Not the hair!”

Yua tried to hold back the smile and laughter that was slipping out of her.

Her eyes landed on the screen showing the main screen of a game – Homichiper, the one she was always talking about in the last few days – and she wrinkled her nose at realizing what she wanted to do with the journal.

She stood up from the edge of the bed and approached Ichika, placing the journal on the desk.

“Don't tell me you wanted to dig up spells to make a fictional character in this game real.”

Ichika found her mouth hanging open as an unconditional reflex, taken aback by being caught.

She closed it again shortly after before shrugging, “Well... the game is good. Fantastic! And the characters are superb!”

“I know, you've already told me about it.”

“You should try it.”

“I will.” She looked at the journal, picked it up again and waved it in the air. “And this one is confiscated.”

Ichika sulked, “Why?!”

Yua gestured at the object between her fingers.

“You can't even read it!”

“Fair.”

The rain tapping on the window panes, the soft light in the room and the darkness outside created the right atmosphere for playing.

Taking a sip of her juice from the straw, she read the writing that appeared on the screen of another ending she had reached: Scarlet End.

She could understand the reason behind Ichika’s fondness for this game.

The gloomy atmosphere, an unfamiliar language that you had to try to figure out, different characters you don't know whether to trust or not, even ourselves.

It had ended up on her list of favorite games.

She opened the page of all the saves made and clicked on the one of Mr. Scarletella. The background music started along with the appearance of the red background and him with the umbrella in the center of it.

In the list of her favorite characters was him instead.

She was a reader of dark novels, knowing that there was such a character made her quite happy.

He was definitely the stalker, probably also a yandere. They went hand in hand, actually.

She almost snorted a laugh at her own thoughts, sucking on the straw for another sip before setting the glass tumbler down. In doing so, she felt her hand brush with something, and glanced at what it was.

The journal was still there. She didn’t know what to do with it. Put it in a shelf of her books? Maybe. It could have become a collector's item.

Grasping it between her fingers, she inspected it more closely.

It was black leather, with embossed bramble thorns that framed both the spine and the journal boards only to intertwine in the center to form a heart.

She didn't even know how to fully describe it.

She opened it to take another look and a slight warmth spread throughout the right side of her body, letting her know that Laura had leaned forward to do the same.

“Are you sure it's not yours?” She looked at her, “It was in your drawer.”

The silhouette shaping her head shook from side to side, denying that item belonged to her, or rather, disclaiming any memory of it.

“You don't remember it at all?”

A shrug and then another shake.

“It probably wasn't that important to you then,” she noted, giving a quick reading to the pages she was flipping through. “Or it's not–” a blink was the reaction to the words that were now before her eyes, causing her to freeze slightly before going on. “–really yours. To cherish and behold throughout eternity…” she translated. “Is this a love spell or something?”

There were other sentences below preceded by the colon next to the one she had just spoken, and at that moment she decided to become the cat who was being killed by curiosity by reading the text.

“Te voco, nam praesentiam tuam desidero. Ostende mihi ipsum, ut me capias et nunquam respicias.” She mentally gave herself a pat on the shoulder as she smiled at Laura. “I’m still pretty good with my pronunciation.”

Her ears heard a slight static noise with the music playing out of tune which put her on her toes. She realized it was the computer's speakers that seemed to have a little trouble in their regular operation.

She huffed, "Great, I guess. Now the computer also wants to scare the shit out of me.”

She placed the journal back on her desk as she tried to get out of the game, but it did not seem to work.

Suddenly a loud bass echoed in her eardrums and she covered her ears with her hands to muffle it, wrinkling her brow in pain.

Her pupils constricted in witnessing the continuous fading and blending of colors on the screen with flickering black and white backgrounds. A play of light and shadow that was making her head spin and skip heartbeats.

Everything was glitching.

Until it became completely dark, only the outside lights slightly allowing her to see, the rain louder than before.

Looking around, she tried to calm her raging heart and breathe normally.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake! That's the third time in a month!”

From Ichika's high-pitched irritated voice and the silence that was previously filled by the switched-on hair dryer that she heard muffled because of her closed door, she could deduce that there was a power outage.

Yua heaved a sigh of relief.

“The hair dryer died on me! I bought it a few days ago!”

“You’ll have to buy another one then!” she replied, trying to turn on the computer but to no avail.

Great, it was completely screwed.

She flopped back in her chair, releasing a frustrated grunt, “And my pc died on me too.”

“I’m gonna sue them!”

“You wish!” she snorted, getting up to open the door.

A shiver down her spine, a lump in her throat and goose bumps all over her body pinned her hand on the handle.

Her eyes drifted to her right. A bolt of lightning that struck nearby lit up the room and, a couple of meters away, revealed a shadow.

Something was there. An unfamiliar presence. It was not Laura.

The shape, the silhouette, was strange. She couldn't see it well. It was fuzzy, not fully formed.

She couldn't move.

“The power is back!”

She gasped, blinking uncontrollably and her body slightly shaking.

“Damn it, Ichika!” she blurted out in a startled whisper.

When she drew her gaze back to the shadow, it was gone.

Dinner was ready, there was a silence that may have been pleasant for Ichika, but for Yua it was not.

She tapped her finger on the table rhythmically, not taking her eyes off the blurry shadow that had been in the house since yesterday.

This time, however, part of its shadow was missing. It was shaping itself more.

The only reason for its intrusion here was because of that diary.

It remained motionless, making no sound.

It was doing just that.

It could be a good or bad sign depending on its intentions.

“By the way, have you seen Laura?” Ichika inquired, eating another forkful. “She hasn’t played any tricks on me in a while. Is she sick?”

Yua gestured with her chin behind her, “It’s probably because of that Shadow.”

“A Shadow? An intruder?!” she turned her head for a split second to take a look before shifting her attention back to her cousin, “There’s another Shadow here?!”

“The journal. I read it.”

She deadpanned, ”Are you stupid?”

“Hey, I’m older! Don’t insult me!” She adjusted her eyeglasses, feeling offended.

“An older doing things a younger one would do. A regression of intellect, I would say. You solve the problem, I won’t get involved,” she pointed at Yua before herself. “But just to know… what did you read?”

Yua wrinkled up her nose, her eyes elsewhere.

“Yua. What did you read?”

“A love spell.”

Ichika's mouth seemed to have fallen off because of how open it was.

“Dammit, cousin! You practically summoned a ghost to be your lover! You’re really stupid!”

“Ok, I got it. I’m stupid,” she agreed with her, hands in midair going back and forth to gesture for her to stop. “Now I just need to figure out whether he will do damage or not. So far he doesn't seem to want anything but to stare at me as if I were a succulent freshly baked cake.”

The shadow's silhouette had fully developed. Some aspects of it had shown that he was a man, such as his shoulders and chest –which she had seen in profile as he had moved from behind Ichika to walk around the table and approach her.

“A he? The spell gave you a man.” Ichika whistled.

“And he’s right next to me now.”

A shiver shook Ichika all over, “Uh, yikes.”

She observed with slight fear how Yua had her gaze fixed on a spot high in the air. Way up high. The man had to be a fucking giant.

"Is he… that tall?"

She nodded," He is."

“I’m concerned now.”

Silence surrounded them.

Yua knew he was watching her, sensing his intense gaze.

She was also aware that she had made a mistake in reading that spell, it had definitely awakened and confused him by the situation.

The only solution for the moment was to treat him kindly and maybe figure out how to send him back.

“Hi. I'm so sorry if I startled you by calling you here.” He tilted his head to the side at her words. “Welcome to this house.”

She streched out her hand with a smile and waited for an answer.

She saw the shape of his head go straight back before lowering in the direction of her hand. He then touched it with his, but not for a shake.

He had grasped it for a caress with his fingers, enveloping it with his warmth.

It was still okay, it was a good sign.

It was a good sign indeed.

He was kind. He helped them search for items they couldn't remember where they were, he respected their privacy, he wasn't out of line at all.

He was very friendly as well. If Ichika wanted to ask something about him the answers were always there without any brute manner – although most of the time they were a shrug because he probably didn't remember much like Laura.

His name especially, so they decided to call him by his favorite color – under his request – and he was now Red.

With her the situation was different though. Even too much so.

After a couple of days, he was not just helping out of kindness, he seemed completely devoted in whatever she did or said.

A puppy who did not want to leave his owner for a second.

Infatuated and happy.

Like now as he lay on her bed in a fetal position facing her, the pillow wrapped around his arms.

Another thing she had noticed was that the power he possessed to be able to touch and even hold objects to himself had gradually manifested during the days he was now here. It seemed as if the more he had contact with this earthly world, the more he could be a part of it even if in a not very vivid form.

She laughed softly, “On my bed again? Do you like it that much?”

She saw him clutch the pillow tighter to himself with Ichika's amused laughter in the background as she walked behind her down the hallway, holding the basket of dirty laundry.

“It's your scent on the blankets that he likes.”

She almost choked on her own saliva and turned her head to look at her, surprised, “Ichika!”

“Well, think about it!” She watched her enter the bathroom. “You always find him there when you come back. He probably stays there from the time you leave.”

She rolled her eyes, grabbing the door handle to close it, “I'll close the door so I can hear less of your perverted bullshit.”

“It's logical thinking, not kinky bullshit!”

The door was closed and nothing more was heard.

“Excuse her. Sometimes she talks nonsense.” A whisper of words reached her ears as she approached the ghost, but she flashed him an apologetic smile, “Sorry, I still cannot understand what you are saying. Your language is completely foreign to me.”

She sat on the edge of the bed, crossing one leg over the other.

The language barrier was one of the problems between them. Unfortunately, this aspect had remained unchanged. However, he seemed to understand her. She did not know how, perhaps he interpreted the situations that took place around him or had lived here and learned the language.

She frowned upon noticing that he had his head under the pillow.

"Why are you hiding your face? Is something wrong?" it was then that she realized his reaction. “Are you blushing because of what Ichika said?” He tried to hide more, causing her to gape in astonishment. “Oh my God, you’re adorable! So you really like my scent? It's okay,” She grabbed the pillow to pull it away from him, thus being able to see his shadowy face, conveying gentleness and calm with her tone of voice. “I won't get mad.”

It was possibly a way to feel less nervous. Some scents helped relax the senses – even if they were of people’s; it was not something to be ashamed of.

She laughed at herself inwardly. She was psychoanalyzing a ghost again. She had to stop involving her work in personal matters, but if it served the purpose of returning back him whom she had brought here against his will, so be it.

The issue was that she could no longer find the journal. She had searched every nook and cranny of the apartment.

It was gone, vanished.

She asked Red if he had seen it, but nothing. Laura, on the other hand, gave no signs of response other than her gaze fixed on the shadow man as always.

Therefore, her hands were tied.

But she would not stop looking for it. It would pop up again sooner or later.

In the meantime she was doing research using the new computer – this time a laptop – even though the results on the Internet did not lead to much.

This was to be expected.

Another murmur of words and she brought her attention back to Red, now no longer in the fetal position but seated.

He was not saying sentences, but repeating her name. He had probably seen her lost in thought and was trying to bring her back.

“What is it, Red?”

His arm had reached out, bringing the palm of his hand to graze her cheek before settling down completely and caressing it.

Then it slid toward the nape of her neck, applying gentle pressure to bring her closer to him as his other arm passed around her waist.

She thus ended up slightly falling forward, her face close to his while in a tight embrace.

He rubbed his cheek against hers before stopping and remaining still.

She blinked, completely taken aback. She did not know how to react. It was certainly a peculiar situation.

Yes, we could say that. Obviously.

She had not gone into a state of confusion at all.

Recovering herself, she shook off her surprise and patted his arm lightly to reassure him.

“Don’t worry, everythng is fine. I’ll find a way to bring you back, even without the journal.”

She did not notice the ghost's sudden change in mood. The sudden millisecond change in appearance where eyes with completely narrowed pupils were shown staring at her and then at the door before returning to the emptiness of the shadow.

Laura, sensing that she had been caught in the act behind that object that separated them only by being closed, gasped and then retreated like a terrified puppy to her hideout.

“I feel kind of sad to have to kick him out,” Yua sighed, walking through the streets with Ichika by her side.

Her cousin looked at her sideways as soon as she uttered those words.

“He’s a ghost.”

“But he’s such a cutie patootie!” she cooed.

“He’s a ghost,” Ichika repeated, this time slowly to articulate the statement. “You can’t do much with him.”

Yua pouted, crossing her arms, “We can be friends. Just a thought.”

“Strongly convinced that he wants to be something else, given the way he won't shake off you.”

“I’m a safe place for him. He’s here because of me.”

“And that's why you're going to make him go back to where he came from.” She reminded her, taking her by the arm and resting her temple against hers. “Maybe he wants it, too. And Laura is terrified to death of him. Joke aside.” Ichika lifted her head from hers to glance at her, sadness filling her eyes, “I don't know what it's caused by. Perhaps something with her death, or phobia of men... but she doesn't talk anymore, she doesn't make herself heard. And I miss her jokes. We have tried in every way to involve her, but as long as Red is there, we will not get results. She’s part of the family now, and I want my family to stick togther.”

She was right.

They had known Laura for years now – Yua for five and Ichika for four.

Estranging her feelings was not respectful.

“I will.”

Yua’s determined expression made Ichika smile, “Well, now I'm going. The German is waiting for me.”

“Another one of the dating apps?”

“Recently moved here!” A mischievous smile appeared on her face, “And he's a handsome stud, too.”

Yua laughed, “You’re unbelievable!”

“I see my daddy and you see yours.”

She enacted a gag reflex, disgusted by the implication, “Don’t you dare ever again!”

Ichika chuckled and planted a kiss on her cheek before releasing her arm and walking away.

Yua just shook her head, trying not to laugh.

Cold, eerie, heavy air.

Footsteps echoed in the silent apartment and in Laura's ears, still hiding under the bed in her room years before.

It was pressing, suffocating as if someone wanted to deprive you of oxygen.

It spewed fire, ice, a mixture of emotions.

Red's shadowy feet stopped in front of the bedroom doors facing each other, thus entering her field of vision only one side of him –from the calf to the shoe.

He glanced in the direction of her hiding place before returning to stare at the front door at the end of the hall.

It opened effortlessly.

“That rascal of a cousin of yours might as well have joined us for dinner. Men to have fun with certainly don't run away,” her father grumpily muttered, cutting another piece of his steak.

Yua nodded in amusement, doing the same with hers, “Oh, yes, she could have. If someone didn't lecture her every time she was seen...”

He chewed on that piece of meat, “Guilty.”

“Don't worry, Grumpy, you'll see her next time. You are her favorite uncle, after all,” she pointed at him with her fork before putting it into her mouth to eat her food.

“I hope so. I must give her another earful.”

They both laughed.

It had been at least two weeks since she had seen her father. It seemed like an eternity had passed for her, for her father certainly a millennium.

The deep bond they shared expanded feeling of belonging. His unconditional love was her fundamental pillar for moving forward, in addition to Ichika's.

His perseverance in defending his daughter who was being mocked, humiliated and estranged because she had sensitive capabilities was what added more admiration on her part for the man who was broken but struggled without relenting.

The ruined marriage did not turn him against her, did not blame her for anything - even if it had been because of those abilities.

His mother did not want a monster and decided she wanted nothing to do with them.

Yua could understand, but up to a point.

She noticed her father's soft gaze and smiled at him, “What is it, dad?”

“I can’t believe you’re thirty-one. It feels like yesterday you were my little baby.”

Nostalgia was perceptible in his voice, his eyes shining excitedly.

“You used to run all over the house yelling ‘Daddy, Daddy, come here or I'll kick you in the booty!’” he imitated her naughty little girl voice, making her giggle. “And your mother recording the whole thing…”

No one spoke after this for a while.

“It seems she remarried and has a ten-year-old son.”

Yua inhaled, metabolizing the news, “She didn't abandon him. Apparently she had the normal family she always desired.”

“It seems so…”

Yua felt a weight on her chest at seeing him down and stretched her arm toward him on the table, moving her fingers to invite him to grab it. He did so.

“Dad, I’m okay.”

The tone was firm and gentle, without wavering.

“She’s still your mother. If her abandonment hurt me, it surely hurt you, her daughter.”

“Yeah, she is my mother. Someone gave birth to me, yes. Biologically speaking, she is my mother. But nothing more, nothing less. You stayed and continue to stay. You are the only one I care about.”

She gave his hand a stronger squeeze to reinforce the value of her words and he almost cried.

“Oh, dad, don’t cry, please.”

“I’m so happy…” he choked.

“You’re a big softie.”

Her smile faltered as her eyes lingered in the distance behind her father.

It had begun to rain, but what caught her off guard was the shadow lurking near a streetlight that illuminated the street.

Tall, with a silhouette above his head that gave shape to an umbrella.

Red was there.

It was out of the house.

And she could feel his gaze on her. Penetrating, pressing, blazing.

He seemed to be trembling, raging, impatient, on the edge.

Her heart almost gave out.

The lights outside and in the restaurant began to flicker. Crazy and uncontrolled.

People watched in confusion, motionless in their seats.

Until the restaurant glasses around them exploded, leading Yua, her father and other customers to cover their heads.

Some pieces ending up inside and others outside.

Panic increased.

She was shaking like a leaf, her legs almost ceasing to work when she got up to see how her father was doing.

“Are you okay, dad?!”

He soothed her with a caress on her arm, "Yes, yes. I'm fine."

She breathed a sigh of relief before shifting her gaze back outside, but Red was gone.

Her lips quivered.

“I’ll drive you home, dad. I have a problem to solve.”

After bringing her father home, she was now standing at the apartment door as she alerted Ichika of the situation on the phone. The cousin was petrified by the news and told that she would return immediately and not to do anything crazy until she arrived and found a solution together.

But Yua did not listen to her; she could not. Her father could seriously injure himself with that stunt.

She didn't even know he could get out and was so powerful that he could destroy a restaurant!

It had been her mistake to let her guard down.

The apartment was quiet, so quiet that she shuddered.

She went straight to her room, because she knew he was there.

She took a few steps to enter and turn the light on.

He was standing in the center of the room, waiting for her as he always did when she came home from work.

A lump formed in her throat and she swallowed, “Why did you do that? You didn't have to. My father was there, and other people too. Did you want to kill them all? Was that a warning?”

He whispered words, but did not understand them. She didn't understand and was frustrated about it. Why didn't she understand what she was saying?! What language was that?!

What was she supposed to do?

She was breathing rapidly, agitated, afraid.

She saw him move one step, then another. He could hear the rumble of shoes touching the floor.

And this terrified her not a little, for she had ever heard anything belonging to the shadows make any noise.

His hand grasped hers at an extreme speed, forcing her to gasp and wriggle to free it.

Her eyes were becoming glossy, not wanting to be at his mercy.

“No, let go of me! I said let go!”

A dull noise reached her ears and she looked down. In front of her was the journal she had been searching so hard for just a few inches from Red's shoes.

She was out of breath, her lungs constricting and her mind in turmoil.

He had never intended to leave; he had only made her believe it.

Her attention was drawn to the shadowy silhouette leaning against the wall to her right. It was the umbrella she had seen earlier held by him.

On instinct she reacted.

Her leg came up to strike him in the shin, causing him to bend slightly in pain, before she grabbed the umbrella and struck a blow with it to free herself from his grip.

But what she had not heard, was that before she put her hand on the object, a voice had shouted not to do so.

“I told you not to touch it.”

A woman voice said in a choked whimper, and she half-turned around taken aback.

A red-haired, teary-eyed, trembling young woman was behind her. She did not know what she looked like, but she recognized her voice.

This time it was clearer, not a whisper mixed with the wind.

“Laura…? Your… Your voice… You’re… not a shadow anymore. I can see see you.”

Another tear ran down Laura’s cheek, “Why did you not listen to me…? I told you he was the one who took the journal.”

Realization struck Yua like a lightening.

Her body shook violently, teardrops rolling down her face.

“Oh, my God…!”

She looked in front of her again, but what she saw left her even more bewildered.

She was now holding a red umbrella.

It was not shadowy, but red.

It was red.

She looked up and her mouth opened, but with no sound to come out of it.

There was no shadow. There was red hair, grayish skin, black eyes, a turtleneck sweater, an ankle-length red coat and formal shoes.

No shadow, no Red.

But Mr. Scarletella.

Her head began to deny this possibility, shaking it repeatedly.

She sobbed, “No way… No way… Mr.Scarletella doesn’t exist. He’s fictional.”

For an interminable amount of time, Mr.Scarletella’s eyes stared at the hand that gingerly held his umbrella.

His smile grew, reaching almost halfway across his face. His irises had widened, almost under the influence of some drug. They shone with a light of their own-

He was enthusiastic, euphoric.

And Yua realized she was doomed.

“I’m so sorry, Yua,” Laura cried, as a mental breakdown and hopelessness took over.

She shook her head, “It’s not your fault, Laura. It’s mine. I’m just paying the consequences. Turn around, don’t look.”

Laura did not.

The presence of that fictional character became more and more menancing, the contact of the shoes with the floor making that echoing noise again.

The tip of the umbrella now touched his covered stomach, but within seconds, the situation had been flipped.

One of his arms had pulled her to himself, no longer allowing her her feet to be in contact with the floor, while his other hand rested on hers, holding together the umbrella now opened by him.

And it was at that moment that the words of her father came back to mind, when one day she could no longer deal with ghosts.

"Honey, if you see something that you feel you can't overpower, don't let it get to you. If you do, you won't come back."

She snorted, sad and tired, feeling cheated by life.

“I guess I won’t come back, dad.”

A desperate whisper.

And the next scene was a frightened Ichika running around the apartment looking for her cousin, shouting even Laura’s name to know what happened.

But everything was empty, and the only thing she saw were the light on in Yua’s room and the journal on the floor.

She collapsed to the ground, a desperate cry that did not stop echoing in that house that would never be the same again.

She cursed the day she found that damned journal.

She cursed herself for finding it.

Yua was gone.

She was gone.

She was taken away.

And she’d never come back.

Latin translation:

I summon thee, for I yearn for thy presence

Show me thyself, to take me and never look back

[yyawnjun]

AMORE E PSICHE

seungkwan x reader ; enemies to lovers ; 1k wc ; drabble!! my fav boy w my fav trope !! ; fluff ; they're just cold at some point but they're okay!! ; HE FELL FIRST♡ ; @kflixnet ; no proofread, I'm sleepy ,,

The art lesson was about to conclude when the teacher began to form pairs for a project in which you were to present an artistic piece from the neoclassical-historical period you were studying at the time.

When the teacher asked who wanted to talk about :Psyche Revived by Cupid's Kiss" by the Italian sculptor Canova, you didn't hesitate to raise your hand. You loved Greek mythology and knew a lot about that myth, and you liked the sculpture, so you were happy to share it with the class.

But you weren't the only one who raised your hand; Boo Seungkwan, the one you couldn't stand in front of the entire class, had also raised his hand to deal with that sculpture…

Why would he want to work with you? Since when did he know cared about art project?

Anyway, it was because he raised his hand that the teacher paired you two for the assignment of presenting that work.

"I can only study if I'm outside. Meet me in the park near the school where there are also benches," he said as soon as the bell rang to signal the end of class.

"Oh, and know that I know nothing about that myth," he added before exiting the classroom.

Why on earth would you work on a presentation with him? Seungkwan, who had always thrown irritating comments at you, who rarely spoke to you, and whom you occasionally caught glancing at you with a dazed look?

You never understood him, and despite how much the mystery fascinated you, you chosed to ignore him.

So why did he want to come to the presentation with you?

But the next day, all of the above questions were answered.

When you were sitting on a park bench reading the story of Cupid and Psyche, he observed you silently with his eyes focused on you and your words, and the more you immersed yourself in the reading, the more he drowned into your story.

But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't stop himself from becoming distracted. And you served as his distraction.

Your lips moving quickly, your expressions changing, your eyes following the words, your hair swaying slightly in the wind, and your enthusiasm in your voice. He couldn't concentrate on anything else.

He tried to close his eyes to minimize distractions, but you stopped confused at his bizarre action.

You asked him if everything was okay, and when he opened his eyes again, your gazes met, but he couldn't hold it for long. He turned red and shifted his gaze, nodding and asking you to proceed.

You'd seen that the boy wasn't paying attention to the story, but as much as this annoyed you, you found his look charming, almost comforting.

You decided to put him to tease him anyway, repeating the same line or even skipping pages…but he was becoming gradually lost in your eyes.

He thought the park would help him control his feelings for you, but in the end, he had done nothing but reveal them.

"Am I that boring?"

"No! Absolutely Not. I enjoy your reading and your passion for it."

"Sure…Are you even listening to me?"

"Yes."

You decided to take advantage of the situation by getting closer to him as if to see if he was lying through his eyes.

"I'm not lying," he smirked as he moved closer to you. As if it were a challenge.

"Come on, you can read a little now," you said, handing him your book.

"Sure, now listen to me, the greatest orator!"

And now you're the one who's charmed by him, his voice, his passion…

You found yourself thinking that he was a goodlooking guy, good at reading, and mostly important that that myth seemed better when told by him.

You could see vividly Cupid and Psyche when Seungkwan talked about their beauty.

But also the story had become more enjoyable thanks to the funny comments he occasionally made.

As you were involved in his words and he read that myth, the time around you had shifted.

There were no more children in the park, the sky had darkened, and a cool breeze had blown in.

You both started shivering from the cold, but you didn't want to go without finishing the book.

He was getting close to the end when he began to sneeze frequently. He didn't appear to want to stop, so you gently handed him the scarf you had in your backpack.

"We can share it…if that's okay with you," he replied as he saw you hand over your scarf to him as you were also freezing to death.

"How?"

"Please tell me if it's okay," he asked as he set the book down and approached you.

You nodded instinctively, and he wrapped one end of the scarf over your neck and the other around his.

Fortunately, the scarf was quite long and properly fit the two of you; nonetheless, you had to come closer to each other to avoid hurting yourselves.

As the story came to a close, you were back to back.

Cupid had saved Psyche from the Underworld, and the two of them were now about to get married.

It wasn't until Seungwak stopped talking that you realized he was done, and you two were standing alone in a park, back to back, with a single streetlamp shining on you, your head resting against his and your eyes half-closed.

Even if you couldn't see it, his heart was racing, and his cheeks were flushed - not from the cold.

"We should do it again, don't you think?" and said yes to those barely whispered words from him.

And for a few more seconds before saying goodbye, you two stayed in that position, back to back, wrapped up in the same scarf, your hands now touching, your heartbeats quickening, and your eyes half-closed while smiling...

[askganon]

Sir, you do not know me, nor I you really, but despite the fact that we clearly have major philosophical differences, I still find you highly respectable. I haven't spoken to you as of yet due to this, as I have doubted that I could find a topic that would lead somewhere of benefit that others have not already asked at length about. All this is quite a long winded way to state that, now that I've actually thought of a topic to broach, I am genuinely curious as to your thoughts and do not speak on a whim and hope you may give my ramble some thought as well.

On the topic of alcohol (and any other drug/intoxicant that you may partake in for that matter), I am curious, what exactly do you find pleasurable about any of it and why do you believe you find it pleasurable? I have always found the feeling of drunkenness to be mildly annoying at best and highly distressing at worst. The same traits that others describe as positive have always been hellish to me. For the physical sensations others have described have always sounded identical to my experiences of things such as "being in extreme pain" and "recovering from surgery", which even being slightly tipsy tends to resemble for me. As for the social aspects, many say they find it easier to socialize and that it makes one more open to things, but if you are intending to meet others, wouldn't it be better to know their personality for how it is outside of intoxication? And if one is simply looking to have a good experience, wouldn't it be better to seek one that can be more easily remembered? And being around drunken folk while sober has never been pleasant either, as I find it to be closer to babysitting than anything. To each their own as they say, but I simply find this baffling, so I'd like to hear your thoughts. Perhaps this is simply something that is not meant to be fully known or understood, but to leave questions unanswered is against my nature. After all, a sickly child who grows into a sickly adult is often left only with the company of books, and that has long since given me a hunger to know everything I can. One of my flaws I suppose

And as this is much longer than I intended, I shall try to leave that thought here, I think. For it is late and I am stressed, as tonight is the anniversary of my birthday so tomorrow I will be expected to take part in celebrations that, as my culture dictates, will most certainly involve drinking. I expect the social pressures to be nearly as miserable as the act itself would be. For listening to my late night rambling, which I hope does not bore you, sarqso

Your patience alone to seek out a topic as of yet discussed already elevates you above the common rabble in my eyes, disagreements or no. For this, I will indeed take my own time in answering your original thoughts and inquiries to the extent of my ability.

First, allow me to dissuade any possible worries you may hold regarding my character when it comes to alcohol. I do not ingest it for the sole purpose of wild intoxication.

Many who imbibe do so for this reason, but I am not among them. When I drink, and understand that it is not a daily occurrence, I do so to feel an ease from my burdens.

There are seven stages of intoxication, ranging from sobriety to death. When I drink, I take care to keep myself within the first two stages; sobriety and euphoria. I need no further intoxication than them, and will keep myself within those controllable levels.

In extreme cases, and very rare moments, I have found myself delving into the third stage; excitement. However, I do not enter this stage lightly, and it is almost always with a host of Sisters that I have allowed myself such indulgence.

I am also aware that alcohol effects everyone differently. What has been a pleasant experience for me might be incredibly uncomfortable for you. There is no shame in this, as I have been in the company of many Gerudo who have preferred sobriety to intoxication. Likewise, I have known some Gerudo... and Hylian Kings, who preferred a lifetime of intoxication to a moment of sobriety.

It can be a tool of momentary release if it is controlled, or an unbreakable chain of misery and dependency if it is not. As with everything, it is fine in moderation.

When it comes to alcohol: learn your limits, and respect them.

[crguang]

I am genuinely curious how Kafka, Himeko, Black Swan, and Yukong react if they found a siren/elf reader. Btw thank you for responding to my previous ask, I really didn't expect that :D Also, can I be 🎹 anon?

ABSOLUTELY YOU CAN! that’s such an interesting concept, let me think…

swan would be kinda obsessed. she finds meaning in things people normally overlook, if she comes across a literal siren she’d go a bit crazy; she needs to know everything (who are you? where do you come from? the sea is a part of the world she wouldn’t know much about and she’s always been a curious soul). her way of getting answers would differ, i think. she usually lurks before making herself known as someone who holds all the answers you’re looking for in her cards, but this time she can’t afford to observe for long. she has no guarantee that she’ll see you again, after all, and she can’t miss this opportunity. she presents herself the same way she does everyone else; as someone who’s adept at listening to people’s woes and who simply seeks to make an exchange of memories. you’re not sure you trust this suave, elusive being at first but she doesn’t need you to. conversation is only a pretext, she’s already swimming in your memories and recording as much as she can if only to soothe her own burning curiosity. i don’t know if the remembrance has any need for mythical creatures’ memories but swan could just not let this once in a lifetime experience pass her by.

hime would be fascinated! she’s an adventurer at heart and not a lot of things can scare her. an elf? right in front of her?? she has to meet you. there’s not a lot recorded about your kind in the express’ data bank. another curious soul who won’t shy away from approaching you first; she’s so polite too! she’s good with words and at making the people around her feel at ease; the next thing you know, you’re telling her stories of your kin and she’s listening intently to every word out of your mouth. her attention is a precious thing, it makes you feel like you’re the most special being in the cosmos. himeko doesn’t stay in one place for too long, so it would be a once in a lifetime thing for her too, she would never miss that opportunity

kafka… i’m giggling at the thought of her getting enthralled by a siren’s song so let’s go with that. i mean, what’s the difference between that and her spirit whisper? getting a taste of her own medicine would annoy her really bad, but then she sees you and she’s like “…not the worst thing that’s happened to me.” the loss of control brings a mix of emotions; she’s not sure she likes it but at the same time, she’s deeply intrigued. not anyone can mess with her mind and get her to do their bidding, she’d be very on guard but wouldn’t run away. quite the opposite, she easily finds beauty in your appearance and would stay of her own volition even after getting her mind back. kafka’s very cautious, if it’s not scripted and she catches sight of you on a random wednesday, she’d keep her distance. she watches from afar and if you want to interact with her, you’ll have to approach her first. keeps the encounter to herself like it’s her own little secret and definitely visits once in a while in hopes of seeing you again

yukong my babyyy, i think she’d easily find some similarities between elves and foxians so she’d be very considerate of your boundaries. sensitive ears? hers too! i always think elves are kinda quiet, in the sense that they usually keep to themselves and don’t mingle with others, so you’d be a little hesitant to reveal anything to her. what’s nice about yukong is that she values peace of mind over most things. sit with her in open air, breathe in the scent of nature while the wind blows in your hair and it’s all she needs. you don’t need to tell her a thing, though if you do she gives you her full attention and is always respectful in her follow-up questions. she’s seen a lot of things, and sometimes forget that there will always be something that can surprise her. new experiences are a reprieve from her daily routine, so she’d keep that encounter very close to her heart <3

[cordidy]

Just a little OS i wrote based on the "Lucky Charms" theme for a discord server i'm on :) I don't like to use "MC" or "YN" so the character is named Deirdre and she is not the HL Mc, just a normal Hogwarts student.

TW : none, it's just cuteness

"What are you doing?" Deirdre jumped, surprised. She had been so focused on her search she had not heard Sebastian join her. The sun was setting, she did not have a lot of time left. "Searching for something," she answered, still focused on her task. It was like looking for a needle in a haystack but she had to find it. Sebastian came closer and started looking. He had no idea what he was looking for, but still. "And what are we searching for exactly?" He curiously asked. "A clover," Deirdre simply answered, getting on her knees to take a better look at the grass. Sebastian raised a suspicious eyebrow. "You are looking for a clover?" "Yep." "And you're having trouble finding one?" "Uh-huh" "In a...clover field?" Sebastian was known for being quite bright and quick but he had to admit, he was kind of lost right now. Deirdre got up, dusting her skirt before going to another patch of grass. "It's not just any clover, I need a 4-leaf one," she explained, and she had spent her last afternoon in Hogwarts looking for one, to no avail. "What do you need a 4-leaf clover for?" The young man asked, now intrigued. "Because it brings luck !" She answered him, almost annoyed he would ask such an obvious question.

The Slytherin looked at her, surprised. "Wait, are you trying to tell me that...grass can bring you luck?" In all the books he had read over the years, he had never heard something like that, even in the dustiest volumes of the Restricted Section. "Oh wait, is this one of your "Mugglery" again?" He added. It would make sense that Muggles and Wizards would have some differences in folklore, after all. Deirdre looked at him, confused. "Wait, you wizards don't believe in lucky charms?" She was back on her knees, searching. "Of course we do," the Slytherin answered, trying to not look at his friend's skirt moving with the wind, showing her calves. Over the 7 years they had known each other, he had seen how pretty she had become, coming from a small girl to a pretty young woman with long red hairs and freckles almost matching his. Of course he did not imagine himself courting his best friend, ever, especially now that they had graduated yet, he… remained a man...with eyes…and she was really pretty after all… "Unicorn hair for safe travel, golden foot mushrooms to bring wealth, these kinds of things” he recited to try and focus his mind on something else that wasn’t Deirdre crawling on all four. “But I did not know Muggles were into weed," he said with a little chuckle to tease her. "What do you even need luck for? The exams are over and you graduated with flying colors!" "I....I have a very important appointment tomorrow and I...I'll feel better with it that's all" she tried to brush it off in a casual tone. An important appointment? She had not told him anything about that and they shared...everything... "Wait, does it have something to do with you asking to stay at my place tonight ?" After the passing of his uncle and his sister a year later, Sebastian had inherited both Solomon's small home and his late parent's house in Hogsmeade.While he had started renting his uncle's house for some extra cash, he had planned to live in the family home although the thought of going back there on his own was painful. So, of course, when Deirdre asked if she could spend a couple of days with him, he had accepted right away, not even wondering about the reasons. In his mind, she just...did not have anywhere to go now that her parents had made it clear she was not welcome anymore since she was an adult and a witch. On the other hand, while the house was just a 2 bedroom place, Sebastian had plenty of room to share. "What big appointment?" He asked, looking at her a bit worriedly. It must have been quite something for her to keep it secret. "No....nothing important," she lied. He stopped searching for a clover and looked at her seriously. "Come on Deirdre, it's either an important appointment or nothing, can't be both" The young woman sighed before facing him, clearly uncomfortable. "I....I have a job...well, rather an apprenticeship interview" she said, looking away. "Really? Where?" The young man asked, now curious and rather excited. It was in Hogsmeade for sure, or at least in the region, which would explain the need for accommodation but there were several possibilities. "...der..." she muttered. "What?" "Ollivander!" She said louder, turning red as a tomato. Sebastian looked at her for a moment, clearly flabbergasted. "You're...Merlin, you're serious?!" "Yes..." Deirdre answered shyly before being smashed into a bear hug.

For the past 2 years Sebastian had played as a Beater in the Slytherin Quidditch team and had some issues realizing how strong he had become thanks to the hours of training. "Deirdre this....this is fucking awesome! Mr Ollivander never takes an apprentice and he chose you?! When?! How?!" "Not...not yet!" The young woman said, trying to wiggle her way out of her friend's embrace in vain. He was strong, but also quite heavy. “Re…remember when we had to bring your wand there to fix it?” “After Ominis sliced it in half…yeah…” it was still a hot topic, even two years after. “Well Mr Ollivander said…the wands in the shop…liked me?” Sebastian looked at her, puzzled. It was well known most wands had a mind of their own but…preferences? Feelings? That was new. “Like they wanted to see me around more often so…he offered a potential position to start as a baby wand maker” "So this is why you want your lucky grass? To pass the interview? You don't need that, you're a brilliant witch! The old Ollivander would be crazy not to train you!" Deirdre sighed. She knew she was a good student but this...this was a once in a lifetime chance. "I....I can't fail that interview, Seb. It's...it's my best opportunity so far...'' She looked desperate and ready to burst into tears from the pressure she was putting on her own shoulders. Sebastian took her hand, patting it gently."Sweetheart, you don't need a magic dandelion..." "Clover." "Clover to get that position." He got up, still holding her hand to help her up. "Look, how about we go to my home and you settle down and get your things ready for the interview while I prepare us a good dinner?" He suggested "Seb, no. You have quite the big day tomorrow, you need rest!" “Come on, it's just orientation day at St Mungos. They'll have us visit the place, give us some generic books to read before the classes start in September, nothing fancy” he said, pushing her gently back towards Hogsmeade by her shoulder "You, on the other hand, need calm, rest, and a good evening with an even better company to relax for your ‘not so big appointment’," he added with a smile. "Spending your night out looking for grass won't help, let me just take care of you tonight" Reluctantly, she followed him. As promised, the evening was exquisite, just like the food. She felt really relaxed after spending the evening talking about how she was planning on researching muggle's folklore to see if she might come up with new applications for wand crafting. “No wonder…how did you say it again? The wands like you? They’re probably into weed too,” he teased her as they were doing the dishes, earning a pinch in the stomach before Deirdre kissed Sebastian's cheek on her way to Anne's old room for a good night of sleep. When she woke up the next morning, Sebastian was already gone to Saint Mungo's but he had left her breakfast and a note on the kitchen table. You got this! Don't forget your lucky weed. See you tonight - S Deirdre let out a small chuckle when she saw, right next to his signature, a small 4-leaf clover

[jlf23tumble]

I read through your larry post and you mentioned the peace ring. Harry wore it last over a year ago in September and on the anniversary twitter larries were waiting for it to come back, they even wanted a harry london walk with him wearing it. That pap walk they would tolerate. When it didn't happen, they turned to louis. He had a show that day and wore a green shirt, olive green, olive like offering an olive branch, like asking for peace, bam peace ring was back! I cringed so hard when I read that but I used to be like that too so I couldn't even be mad. But then I started questioning my sanity and if everything else i believed about clues and messages larry was sending was wrong and made up. probably most of it. But then i think about the louis maison shirt on harrys house release day and I question it again. But I'm chill about all this. Maybe they broke up a long time ago or maybe they're on off, maybe still together, maybe in an open relationship. Whatever we'll never know so why stress about it. I think mostly on Tumblr everyone is more relaxed about it. It's the new larries who don't grasp any of this and think management is still controlling them and larry are blinking more code at us that are annoying as fuck.

anon 2: Not that anon, but thank you for your that brilliant long ask answer you just gave. I joined in this crazy H&L world only last January after I caught wind of the second E breakup and it really felt like "holy shit, there might really be something here, they really might be about to come out, etc." It's been an interesting time so far in the fandom, and I think I'm more in line with your way of thinking recently. Things just feel...meh. There's a weird coldness to the fandom right now, almost a forced belief like you mentioned in your previous answer. I'll always believe there was SOMETHING going on, but to this current day? Probably not. Thanks for your sanity. :)

-----

Amazed anyone read that long-ass answer, lmao, but thank you! As for thinking people on tumblr are somehow more relaxed about it, beg to differ, anon 1, based on a quick lurk just this sec, but kudos to you for keeping that dash locked down! Without much going on at the moment, it's quiet in the deep, so to speak, but make no mistake, it's out there, waiting! Even today, there are people out there saying, ooooh, tons of larry signs at Louis's show near the stage, and you could see how happy he was compared to last night!! Like, it's some kind of GOTCHA, ipso facto, and uh, yeah, that's not cause/effect, bb, but okay! Spread that shit! Live your version of the truth! For real, you can make ANYTHING a reach if you have the arm capacity for it, give me two pieces of something, and I'll stitch it for you, whole cloth, there's a 28 in it, I just know it. It's always so tempting to whip up a sideblog that goes full hog unhinged, like, jesus, it's not hard, lmao

[farharaeem]

I’m Afraid to Say Your Name

I knew you were religious from the way you spoke. The way your words carried weight, the way you pronounced them with certainty—it was my first impression of you. Your question was meant for me, but someone else answered, and I sat there, listening to the debate you had unknowingly stirred. I could have left. At some point, I didn’t even understand what you all were discussing. It was frustrating. It was annoying.

And so were you.

The more I heard your voice, the more I wanted to drown it out. You talked. Endlessly. About your practices, your rationality, your politics, your sciences. I would pull out my earphones just to take a break from you. But for some reason, I never could ignore you completely. Maybe it was because you always seemed to know exactly what I was curious about, answering my unspoken questions before I even dared to ask.

And then, one day, you disappeared.

When you returned, something shifted. And you still have no idea.

I would have given anything to speak to you again, just to hear your voice. I started telling you things I had never told anyone, things I once thought I would take to my grave. And you—without even trying—made me feel safe enough to say them. You called me by my childhood nickname. And in all honesty, my name had never felt so soft, so warm, so loved as when you said it. I didn’t know how to react, so I only hummed in response. But my soul felt like a boulder, standing in defiance against crashing waves.

We spoke in depth, you and I. Of things that mattered, of things that didn’t. And sometimes, I let silence fall between us. But you never mistook it for distance. You saw me. You understood me in a way no one else did. You even questioned it. Did I say something that hurt you? you would ask. Who even does that?

You claimed me, so openly, so boldly, in front of your kind. Possessive and protective, you had said. And I didn’t doubt you for a second. You came to me in the form of guidance, and I have learned more from you than you will ever know. I have no will to let you go. Everything I have ever let go of has had claw marks on it. But you—I never even called you by your name, out of respect.

And then, you disappeared again.

I whispered your name in a sigh, after I was done greeting the angels on my shoulders. It was agonizing. It was quiet. But I waited. I knew you would come back. I just didn’t know when.

Some nights, I watched the moon rise and wondered if you were watching it, too. If, at the very least, its light was reaching you through your open window.

Little things reminded me of you. A gust of wind against my face, the piercing cry of an eagle, leaves drifting from their branches even as summer approached, the flicker of candlelight in a dimly lit room, an empty bus at dawn. And one day, you will realize; when you see me feeding ducks on our morning walk, that through all your storms, I was there.

When your faith wavered. When your body ached. When the world refused to acknowledge you. When your own family didn’t feel like home. When your wallet was light and your accounts were empty. I was there.

For one reason.

Love.

And trust me. I know that if we had a future together, it would never, never fall apart. You know why? Because we made God the center of our relationship.

You have never seen me, and I have never seen you. But I know what you look like, and I pray you know what I look like, too. I hope my voice sounds as soothing to you as yours sounds to me. I hope you love the meals I prepare for you. I hope you love the home I make from your house. I hope you adore me more than I adore you.

When you call me now, I just want the conversation to last as long as possible. You never run out of things to say, and I never run out of things to feel. Every word, every pause, every breath you take on the other end of the line is something I want to bottle up and keep with me forever. You talk, and I listen, not because I have to, but because I want to. Because I crave the way your thoughts unravel, the way your mind works, the way your voice carries a weight that so few voices ever do.

Sometimes, I close my eyes as you speak, just to let your words settle deeper. Sometimes, I let you go on tangents I don’t even fully understand, just to keep hearing you. Sometimes, I say nothing at all, hoping you’ll notice and ask, Are you still there? And when you do, I smile.

Because I am here. I am always here.

And in my phone, exists a folder with your name. Every time I miss you, I open it up and write down my entry. I write when you're talking, too. Your dreams, your likes, your dislikes—the sort of life you live, the sort of life you want to live. The kind of woman you want to marry and my endless practice of being that woman. The dreams I have of you, your favorite climates, the weathers that make you pause and take a deep breath. How everything I tell you makes a difference, how it all matters. How you hate when people lie to you, and how you despise those who have the truth in front of them yet still choose to ignore it.

I open my duas with you and your family, and then I move on to my family and myself. I ask Allah to protect you, to bless you, to guide you more, to keep you steadfast on the road you’re walking down. Because if I was to follow you, I’d never get lost. I’d always have a leader holding the burning torch in one hand and holding my hand in another.

To brief that entire folder in one sentence: Are you aware my heart would crawl out of my chest to get to you?

I’ve heard people claim that they would die for their beloveds. Others claim they would kill for love.

But for you, I would do the hardest thing known to mankind: live.

So my dear guiding light, make space in your ribs—I’d like to reside in my home country eternally.

[dailyunstableeve]

Dawn

Chapter (6/10)

Miguel O'Hara x My oc (Eve)

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It's Summer vacation right after Dawn/Eve and Miguel went to find Eve's biological parents. Ever since Miguel last saw Dawn, she has never appeared, even during summer.

The news was talking about Dawn, about her disappearance for the past months, no one knows what happened to her, they thought that her disappearance had brought some peace back to New York.

Miguel didn't really rest as well, he would show up at Riverside park sometimes, just to see if he could at least see Eve one more time. He would visit the stores around the area just to see if they heard anything from Eve, but when Miguel follows Eve's step around the neighborhood, he just can't find her at all. One time, he saw Chris sitting alone at the park, so he decided to walk up to him and ask if Eve was around.

"Eve wants me to tell you to walk away, she said that she doesn't need your help anymore, that's what she said," Chris sighed, "stop looking for her."

"I just need to see how she's doing, just once," Miguel said.

No one knows what exactly happened, only Miguel knows, which made him feel that he should be there for Eve, because he's the only one she can talk about this matter to.

"I can't help you, I'm her best friend and she told me not to let you see her," Chris said, "I don't know and don't want to know what you did to her or if it has something to do with you, just stay away from her," Chris walked away.

Miguel took a big sigh and sat on the bench.

★・・・・・・★

"Mr O'Hara."

Miguel jolted up from his bed, looking around, it's 3:46am, The only light in his room is his phone, a message.

"Rooftop."

Without a word, he put on his shirt and rushed up to the rooftop. The first sight he sees is a woman with long hair, standing on the edge of the rooftop, her hair moving as the night wind blows, the street light shining up, as if she's a night goddess.

Adrenaline hit him as he realized, it's Eve. The girl he's been searching for months.

"Sorry to wake you up, I'm just here to get my final piece of answer," Eve turned around, looked at Miguel, but Miguel couldn't really see Eve's expression due to the lack of lights on the rooftop.

"Why do you keep stepping out of your own boundaries to help me? From the Mr O'Hara I know, he wasn't someone who would help me. Even you are SpiderMan, you always give off the vibe that you would kill to get what you want but you just get extra dangerous but always hand the bad guys to the right hands," Eve speaks out her questions, remaining on the edge of the rooftop.

"Because you're annoying."

"What?"

"You're so annoying to be caught, if putting you to jail isn't the way, I want to save you," Miguel said.

"Is that a pity?"

"Maybe yes, maybe no."

Eve slowly walked up to Miguel, in a range Miguel could see her face clearly.

"I learned that, when a person grows up without getting the love and support they wish for, when one manages to give it to them, they grow attached to the person," Eve stated, "I may have grown attached to you Mr O'Hara, what should I do about it?"

Miguel stopped after what Eve told him. No one knows what he's thinking other than himself. He stared at the face in front of him, they were enemies, but what are they now? Miguel knows that he hasn't been himself ever since the Dawn is a daily villain for him, this woman in front of him, changed his lifestyle a lot. What's weird is, he likes it.

"Well, I know you wasn't ready for this, sorry to bother you while you sleep, Mr O'Hara, I hope you got nothing important to do tomorrow," Eve smiled as she kissed Miguel's cheek, she walk back to the edge of the rooftop, waving at Miguel, "goodnight Mr O'Hara," the shadow dropped, Miguel only back to his sense and jump off the rooftop as well.

Eve was planning to fly away after a few more floors down but when she saw Miguel jump off as well, she decided to not do anything but to continue to fall. Miguel panicked and shot out his web to catch Eve, pulling her up into his big arm.

"You just made yourself the important thing I need to do tomorrow, and stop calling me Mr," Miguel groaned while he carried Eve in his arms and climbed back up to his floor.

Seeing Miguel behaving like this made Eve laugh so hard that she couldn't stop, because this is an unexpected turn.

"You may speak and act like a cold person, but your heart and mind does say otherwise," Eve chuckled.

"Stop making fun of me."

★・・・・・・★

"Eve!"

"Eve!"

Music blasting in the practice room, she's recording for her final assignment before the test.

"Eve!" The music got cut off, it's Chris who pulled the plug.

"Yea?" Eve took off her headphones, innocently looking at Chris.

"What do you mean by you're going to quit?" Chris held up a piece of paper, "I found it in your locker, because you asked me to clean it a few days ago."

"Oh shit, I forgot to not put it there," Eve awkwardly chuckled.

"I think as your best friend, I deserve to know why," Chris crossed his arm.

"There's something I gotta do, it would take at least a year, and we're supposed to graduate next year which I won't be here," Eve explained.

Eve and Miguel planned after their last meeting, she was gonna kill off Dawn, let that past sink down to the bottom.

"So please let me finish my last assignment? Let me be the last person who scores the highest in their senior years," Eve begged.

"Fine," Chris plugged back the plug and sat on a random seat, watching Eve finish her assignments.

He would never know that thing will change after this time.

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Prev~

Next~

[band--psycho]

Anthony Bridgerton x Reader-All The Words That Should Have Been Said

A huge thank you to the lovely Anon that requested this story!

This is my first ever Bridgerton request so I hope you all enjoy this! 💛

(Don't worry I will be writing a part 2 for this!)

Anthony Bridgerton Masterlist / Bridgerton Masterlist

Sleep, that’s all I wanted. Just a good night's sleep and once again this was denied to me, however this time it was not through the fault of my own overthinking mind. No, this time it was down to the constant knocking on my door. I’d tried to ignore it, in hopes that eventually whoever was at the door would get bored and go away, but whoever it was seemed to be adamant on annoying me.

“If you insist on practically banging down my door would you mind doing it at a more sociable hour?” I whispered, the frustration evident in my voice as I opened the door.

And that’s when I saw the one and only, Viscount Anthony Bridgerton standing at my door.

The Viscount and I had always had a bit of an odd relationship. We’d been friends for years, and when he returned from Oxford our friendship just seemed to grow; most evenings I’d be round his house until the early hours, both of us discussing anything and everything to do with our lives and the latest books we’d read. Other days we’d just sit in silence, reading, or strolling through the gardens, just enjoying one another’s company.

There were brief moments where I thought we could be something more than friends, but I never fully allowed myself to think of that idea for too long, the fear of ruining our many years of friendship holding me back.

Though try as I might, the feelings didn’t seem to fade, instead they just seemed to grow the longer I spent in his company.

So I began to distance myself from him and when his father died the distance between us only grew.

We’d see each other at social gatherings of course, and we would talk whilst we were in public but that was about it.

“I need to talk to you,” he said, a panicked tone lacing his voice as his eyes met mine.

I rolled my eyes at his comment, trying to ignore how scared he truly looked.

It was certainly not a look I’d ever seen on his face often in all the years I’d known him.

“Well then, you best come in, my Lord,” I said, pulling the door back a little, allowing him to enter my family home, thankful that my parents were away in the country for a few days to look after my grandmother. All the while ignoring the potential of anybody seeing him enter my house; a man and a woman unchaperoned was always something that made the gossips of the towns talk.

“Can I get you a drink-”

“I am to duel at dawn,” Anthony interrupted, making my heart almost stop mid beat.

“What?” I exclaimed, trying to process the words that had fallen from his lips. I could feel my heart start to beat faster and faster as I stared at him, knowing that the same panic that was in his eyes at the door were now mirrored in my own.

Anthony was a skilful man but he was a terrible shot, though he’d never admit to most.

“I am to duel at dawn,” he repeated, his voice even quieter now.

“Who? Why? ” I questioned, feeling as though the wind had been knocked out of me, the questions just continued to roll off my tongue.

“I cannot tell you,” He sighed, lowering his gaze from mine.

I knew Anthony, the years may have put a distance between us but he was not a violent man, not unless he felt like he had to be.

“Cannot or will not?” I countered, but Anthony just shook his head.

“Whatever it is, is it really worth dying for?”

He didn’t answer my question but I could tell by the way he looked at me, told me it involved his family. His family were the only thing that Anthony would risk his own life for.

“Why are you here, Anthony?” I asked, trying so hard to work out what it was he was actually here for, he wasn’t here to talk about why he was doing this and there were certainly other people he could see tonight rather than an old close friend.

“I needed to talk to you,” he stated.

“That doesn’t answer my question,” I sighed, feeling utterly confused, “You could be with your family right now…”

“I’ve spoken with my brothers, prepared Benedict for if the worst should happen,” he began, moving closer towards me.

“But what I need to tell you cannot come from anyone else but me,” he continued, his words softer than they had been recently.

“All these years, we’ve been friends, friends that have danced around our feelings for one another, acting like they do not exist, neither of being brave enough to say the words we’ve both wanted to say to each other-”

“Anthony-” I whispered, knowing that if I heard those three words that I’d dreamt about hearing before, I would not let him walk out that door to that duel.

I wanted to say it to him.

I wanted to hear him say it to me.

The three words that would bind our hearts together until we were old and grey.

I could not hear those words if he was going to die tomorrow; my heart would not be able to take it.

Knowing that what I thought was unrequited love was anything but.

“You can tell me tomorrow,” I breathed out shakily, raising my hand to his face, caressing his cheek softly. He mimicked my action, wiping away a tear I didn’t even know had fallen from eyes before wrapping his other arm around my waist, pulling me closer into him.

All I wanted to do right now was kiss him, to hold him, to tell him that everything was going to be okay.

But that could not happen, for those words would be a lie, and the intimacy we were both craving would be a sin, one that could damage both of our families reputation if he…if he died tomorrow. And he knew that just as I did.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, brushing his lips against the shell of my ear before resting his head on my shoulder, pulling me even closer into his embrace.

“So am I,” I admitted, wishing I had some type of magical machine that allowed me to go back in time so that I could tell Anthony all the words I’d kept hidden in my heart for so long.

Words that now neither of us might never get to say depending on the outcome of tomorrow.

All either of us could do now was enjoy this moment.

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[ptergwen]

hi I saw your requests were open if there not anymore you can completely ignore this :). but could you do a boyfriend!peter x reader where he loves it when reader gives him those little kisses on his nose and freckles with head scratches please. feel free to change or completely ignore this <3

thousands of tiny stars

pretend i haven’t used this

warnings: a couple suggestive jokes but the rest is just floofy fluff

a/n: i got carried away as per usual and i did end up changing it a tiny bit :/ emphasis on tiny tho lmfhsjfh you’ll see ! either way i hope you enjoy mwah

-

one thing about peter is that he absolutely can’t sit still under any given circumstances. he’s restless, like a burning ball of energy that’s brightness never dims.

because of this, he tries to and needs to keep himself occupied and be kept occupied every second of every day.

it’s sometimes playing with his fingers or your own, which peter prefers because he gets to hold your hand. other times, it’s tapping his favorite pink glitter pen relentlessly against the kitchen table while he conjures up homework answers.

aunt may isn’t very fond of that one.

this time, it’s constantly shuffling about the couch in the name of finding comfort.

peter starts off with an arm around your shoulders and a content grin on his face. you two agreed on mean girls for the first movie of your marathon, your head resting against peter’s chest as the tv steals your attention.

a few minutes in, peter decides he feels like being held rather than holding you. he sneaks his way down your body, lets himself nudge your thighs to wordlessly communicate what he wants. you of course oblige and switch positions accordingly.

peter lays his head in your lap, taking the opportunity to stare up at you instead of at the screen.

he finds himself shifting around again not too much later. now laying on the couch’s armrest on his side, he kicks his feet into your lap where his head just was.

you’re becoming slightly annoyed with his fidgeting. his explanations of sorry, just trying to get comfortable and innocent smiles are what stop you from complaining.

“that’s strike three, parker,” you joke, eyes leaving the movie to fix on him. peter crosses his arms over his chest. “i dunno what you’re talking about, y/l/n,” he insists. “i haven’t done anything remotely strike-worthy so far this evening.”

flicking his sock clad foot, you mutter your response. “debatable.” peter dismisses you with a huff. “whatever. c’mere… i miss you.” he makes grabby hands for you, like the big baby he is.

it’s quite endearing, though.

“i’m right here, pete,” you laugh out and return your gaze to mean girls. “and yet, you’re so far,” peter counters. “come gimme cuddles.”

you sigh lightheartedly, your ever so clingy boyfriend still reaching out for you. a smirk pulls at your lips.

“well, there’s an offer i can’t refuse.”

peter adjusts so he’s sitting criss cross, bouncing excitedly in his spot. his chocolate brown curls fall in all directions, form being swallowed by an oversized stark industries hoodie that he keeps having to roll up the sleeves of.

he looks so soft and snuggly in anticipation of your cuddle session. you can’t believe you were ever annoyed at him.

slightly annoyed.

he’s so eager that when you scoot the tiniest bit towards him, he literally pulls you into his lap. peter’s arms hug you around your lower back, you laughing quietly as he peppers a trail of kisses from your cheek to the side of your neck.

the movie long forgotten about, you wind your arms around his neck and tilt your chin up.

“pete?” you breathe out. peter pecks your cheek once more, then your other, beaming. “yeah, babe?” he wonders. with a half serious half teasing glare, you wonder, “are you comfy now?”

peter ponders your question, and from the skeptical furrowing of his eyebrows and biting of his lip, you have your answer. he’s about to make you regret asking.

it seems that as soon as you settle, peter gets antsy.

“uh, actually…” he strokes his thumb along the underside of your chin, smiling apologetically. “you mind if we lie down? ‘m kinda tired.” there it is. you roll your eyes. “how could you not be? you’ve been playing musical chairs all night.”

your words earn a chuckle from peter, though they’re at his expense. “this’ll be the last round, promise,” peter swears and seals the deal with a kiss to your chin, which is currently grasped between his fingers.

you know it won’t be. the game goes on forever with peter, unless you end it yourself.

“damn right, bug boy. move another inch after this and you can consider your cuddle privileges revoked,” you grumble, getting off of peter’s lap. he stares at you in pure horror, gasping. “you wouldn’t…” “i would,” you correct him.

not aiming to test that theory, peter quickly fumbles around and lays flat against the cushions. he wills himself to be stiff as a board. you seem satisfied with that, climbing on top of him with your face hovering above his.

peter sets his hands on your hips, grip strong. he closes the space between you both with a short kiss. you reciprocate and deepen it, turning short to long as your parted lips slot with his. his tongue darts out, already skimming over your bottom lip for more access.

you hum into his mouth and allow his tongue to slide in. peter kisses you so tenderly as he rubs circles on your hips, your fingers tangling in his locks simultaneously. you weave them up to his roots, using your nails to gently scratch at his scalp just the way he likes. he breaks the kiss to let out a noise close to a moan.

“that- that… oh, god yeah,” peter praises, his eyes fluttering closed. you’re amused at how easily pleased he is. “don’t cream your pants yet, pete. i’m just getting started,” you purr. peter squeezes your hips in response. “feels better than an orgasm, babe. i’m serious, too,” he murmurs.

you continue your handiwork in his hair and lean in for another kiss. peter merely pecks your lips before jerking away.

“wait, hold that thought,” he exhales a breathy laugh. “i gotta pee.”

he has to be kidding. again with this?

“oh no, you don’t,” you deadpan, pushing against his shoulders to hold him down. “oh yes, i do,” peter retorts. “let me go, y/n/n.”

peter could definitely slither out from underneath you if he truly wanted to. he has super strength, so the might of his teenage girlfriend doesn’t quite compare.

pinning him in place, you straddle his waist. “nope, you’re gonna stay. i’m not giving you a choice in the matter.” peter attempts to pry you off of him, but you won’t budge. “y/n, my bladder is gonna explode-“

he cuts himself off with a giggle when your lips begin to attack him. you kiss down the bridge of his nose lightly, peck each freckle dotting his skin, and the amount of them is infinite. peter’s fit of giggles continues as you smooch that pretty face of his, his cheeks dusted pink and hands coming up to support you by your sides.

he’s always been a little insecure about his freckles. they don’t suit him, there are too many of them, blah blah blah. you obviously couldn’t disagree more. you think they’re sick.

you’d once even told him they look like thousands of tiny stars, and peter does love stars. he also loves the kisses you tend to randomly surprise him with to remind him to appreciate his freckles the same way you do.

“okay, okay! i’ll stay!” peter concedes, you ruffling his hair and pressing a final kiss to the tip of his nose. he grins despite himself, and secretly wishes you wouldn’t stop. “but, if my kidneys fail… it’s on you.”

you pat his chest definitively.

“good thing you’re a fast healer.”

[jamesbuchananxsteviegrant]

I Pick the TV Show, Rogers Shuts His Cake-Hole | Bucky x Steve x Reader (Angst, Fluff)

Category: Angst, Fluff (Suggested) Age: 14+ Trigger Warnings: none, other than the standard explicit language Ship: Bucky x Steve x Reader Summary: Steve Snaps At Reader When He’s Stressed, Resulting In Her Being Very Upset Request: "can u write where steve/bucky is overwhelmed with something and when reader asks to help or is telling them to relax they snap at reader and reader is hurt which makes them feel really bad afterwards. thank you sm. i love ur writings. and this is anon right? is it alright if u dont post my response if its not anon? im sorry. thank you so much. ur blog always pictures great stucky imagines. 💗💗💗" Contains Spoilers for: N/A Word Count: 2,488

---

A given, the super-soldier had been on nonstop missions for the last month or so, but she thought she was helping him feel better, not making him feel worse.

“Would you like anything to eat, Stevie? You’ve barely moved all day.” (Y/N)’s voice is small. Quiet.

She’s leaning through the door of his study where he’s sat putting together his mission reports from the last three or four missions he’s been out on.

He shakes his head but doesn’t even turn to look at her.

Sighing, the woman walks further into the room where her boyfriend is slouched over the desk.

“You gotta take a break, Stevie.” She whispers, resting her hands on his shoulders.

She notices the way they tense up, but he still remains silent.

His fingers continue to write up his report on the laptop.

“I’m worried about you, Stevie; talk to me.”

“I’m busy, (Y/N).”

“I know you are, baby, but you’ve gotta look after yourself too.” She attempts, leaning down to press a kiss to his cheek. He pulls away.

The woman furrows her brows.

“Steve, please, you’ve got to-”

“(Y/N), just stop!”

The shout is sudden and it makes her flinch back away from the man as he turns to face her.

“I’m fine, alright?! I don’t need you babying me all the time!”

She doesn’t respond for a second, surprised at her lover’s outburst.

He says nothing more, simply turns back to the laptop and continues typing away.

“Steve, look how stressed you are. Can you please just-”

“STOP! Okay?! Just stop! Leave me the fuck alone while I finish these neverending mission reports. For once in your life can you just understand that not everything is about you?!”

(Y/N) swears that being shot in the heart wouldn’t hurt half as much as the words that just came out of the man’s mouth.

Her mouth opens and closes as if searching for the right words to say, but that hurt.

Is she really that bad? Is that the truth behind all of this? That she’s clingy? Thinks everything is about her? That was never her intention. (Y/N) is well aware of how important being an Avenger is. Hell, she is an Avenger, for Christ’s sakes.

She says nothing more and leaves the room.

She can’t even decide if she feels sad. No. She’s not sad, she’s not angry, she’s not… anything.

Numb.

Naturally, her feet lead her to their room. Steve’s room. They all basically share the super soldier’s abode since they all got together, but right now she doesn’t dare open the door.

Doing a full one-eighty spin, (Y/N) takes herself back to a place she barely touches anymore. Her room.

It’s pretty empty. Most of her clothes are in Steve’s room, in her own walk-in wardrobe. Her bed is perfectly made from the last time she slept in here - maybe a year ago?

The woman walks around her bed and straight onto her bedroom balcony, overlooking the lake at the back of the compound, and stays there. For three-hours. Until Bucky comes looking for her.

He came home from his mission about thirty-minutes ago only to find their shared room of Steve’s empty. He searched just about everywhere, completely clueless.

“FRIDAY, where’s (Y/N) and Steve?” He finally gives in.

“Captain Rogers is in study five, and Agent (L/N) is in her private quarters.”

Now that makes the brunet furrow his brows.

Why would (Y/N) be in her room and not his or Steve’s?

He prioritises finding (Y/N) first, knowing Steve will be writing up mission reports, no doubt.

Despite them being together for over six-years now, he hesitates when reaching for the handle of her bedroom door. Instead, the man opts to knock.

No answer.

“(Y/N)?” Nothing. “Doll, it’s me; can I come in?” Nothing.

Bucky tries the door handle and finds it unlocked, yet still hesitates.

“Baby?” He calls out. Again, nothing.

He’s cautious now. Scared.

Her room looks as untouched as the last time he saw it, which was a few months back when she was after one of her plushies.

“(Y/N)?”

It’s when he feels the chill of the midnight winds ruffle his hair that he realises her balcony doors aren’t fully closed.

Striding straight over, his eyes widen at the sight of his girlfriend curled up in the corner of the outdoor area, crying.

“(Y/N), baby, hey, what’s wrong?!”

Bucky immediately drops to his knees in front of the woman, reaching for her hands and gently tugging them away from her tear-stained face.

“(Y/N), doll, look at me.” His voice is gentle. Soothing.

She does almost instantly but her sadness stays.

“What happened, baby? Are you hurt?”

The fear and sincerity in his voice is enough to prompt the woman to shake her head. Yes, she’s hurting emotionally, but he needs confirmation that she’s not dying.

The woman immediately sees the relief take over his features, but he’s still concerned.

“What’s wrong, doll?”

Her eyes stray away from his, not wanting to tell him what’s got her so upset.

“Hey, no, look at me, baby,” He whispers, hand lightly grasping at her chin to raise her face back up to his. “What’s got you so worked up, (Y/N)?”

Another shake of her head as she tries to escape her lover’s hold.

“Baby, please, you’re scaring me.”

Her face contorts into something close to heartbreak as she wants nothing more than to reassure the man in front of her.

“It’s okay, Buck.”

“It’s not okay! Doll, I haven’t seen you cry since Stevie nearly died on that mission in Ohio like two-years-ago! Talk to me.”

She takes a deep breath and wipes her face of the shedding tears.

“Do you want me to get Stevie?”

The question is innocent and makes sense, but her eyes widen and she shakes her head desperately.

“No! No, please, no.”

That truly makes the super soldier concerned.

“Doll, please can you tell me what’s happened?”

Never in the last eight-years that Bucky and (Y/N) have known each other has she been so reluctant to see Steve.

Another sob escapes her and it’s breaking his heart.

“Baby, please.”

“Steve got mad at me, alright?!” She manages an attempted shout. “I just wanted him to look after himself.”

“What happened? What did Steve do?”

He’s concerned. Massively.

“I was trying to get him to eat; he hasn’t eaten properly in so long. He’s so overworked and he’s hung up on all these mission reports. He told me that not everything was about me - shouted at me; told me to stop.” She’s whimpering and sniffling again now. “Please get him to eat something, James.”

That last sentence is the one that crushes him. She’s upset, yeah, but above all that, she’s still worried about the blond super soldier.

“Come on, baby, let’s go to our room and get into bed, yeah? I’ll go and speak to Stevie.”

Her eyes meet his and she looks scared, but the ocean blue gaze that he returns makes her bound to his every command.

The woman nods.

“Okay.”

“That’s my girl.”

With the help of the Winter Soldier, (Y/N) manages to stand up, letting him lead her out of her private room and into their shared one of Steve’s.

“Here, let’s get you into your PJs, yeah?”

He doesn’t leave room for negotiation as he helps his girlfriend strip out of her casual dress and into one of his oversized t-shirts.

“You get snuggled up in bed, doll. I’m going to go and get Stevie, okay?”

He hates how she looks nervous at the mention of their other lover’s name.

“He loves you more than words can describe, baby girl, I promise you. He shouldn’t have lashed out at you, I’m gonna talk to him, okay?”

A hesitant nod and forced smile is enough for now.

“I’ll be back shortly, I promise.” He leans over and gives the woman a kiss on the lips, leaving her with one of her favourite shows playing on the TV.

“Bucky,” Her choked up voice calls out just before he leaves.

The man turns from his place in the doorway.

“I love you.”

The smile that takes over his expression is contagious.

“I love you too, baby girl. More than anything.”

Despite his reassurance to the woman, he’s pretty damn pissed for a number of reasons about Steve losing his cool with their girl. Reason number one being, how dare he? Reason number two being, he knows better than to overwork, yet here we are.

Bucky doesn’t even knock once he approaches the glass doors of the study where Steve is sat typing away on the laptop.

The blond doesn’t even glance up to see who entered. He barely heard the door open which enrages Bucky further.

The brunet slams the lid of the laptop shut without saying a word, prompting Steve’s head to shoot up, glaring daggers at whoever has interrupted him.

“What the fuck, James?!”

That makes Bucky really get annoyed.

“Are you serious right now, Rogers?”

“I’m in the middle of about seven different mission reports, Buck, I’ve gotta finish them.” The man sighs, going to open the lid of the PC once more, only for Bucky to hold it down. “James, seriously,”

“No. What you need to do is explain to me why our girlfriend has been crying for the last God-knows how many hours?”

That makes Steve snap back to reality.

“What? (Y/N) has been crying? Is she okay?”

Bucky literally rolls his eyes at that.

“Are you fucking serious, Steve?” He repeats, Steve looking confused, expression contorting as he realises that his boyfriend is seriously angry at him.

“Bucky, what’s wrong? What’s happened?”

The Winter Soldier’s head lolls back as he groans in frustration.

“You seriously have no idea?” He asks, rhetorically, watching Steve look almost scared. “Do you often shout at your girlfriend and forget it happened?”

Cap’s eyes widen at that, and he visibly gulps.

“What?”

“She came in here to make sure you were looking after yourself, which you weren’t, by the way, and you tell her that not everything is about her?! Are you fucking stupid, Steve?!”

He remembers it all too well in that moment, turning his head down to avoid the frustrated glare of his male lover.

“No. No, you don’t get to look away from me. Look at me.” Bucky demands, watching the blond super soldier reluctantly do so. “I come home from my own exhausting mission, search for (Y/N) for thirty-minutes, and find her crying her God-damn heart out on the balcony of HER room; not our room, Steve, no. Her room.”

Steve’s heart shatters and his eyes widen once more.

(Y/N) hates staying in her room. She’d always be in his or Bucky’s without a doubt.

“I- Buck-”

Bucky shakes his head and stands back upright as Steve is lost for words.

“I’m not mad at you, Steve. I get it, you know? You’ve been overworking for the last month, I know you’re stressed, but fuck, baby, you can’t hurt her like that. Do you know how much my heart fucking shattered when I saw her curled up in the corner of her own God-damn balcony?! It tore me apart. She hasn’t cried since you nearly fuckin-” Bucky chokes on his own word as he walks away from his lover.

“I’m sorry! Buck, I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have let Fury send me on that many missions, I- I should’ve said no. I’m sorry.” Steve attempts, standing up and following the brunet, turning him around to face him once more.

“It’s not me you need to be apologising to, Stevie.”

Captain America nods and leans up to press a kiss to the man’s lips.

“I’m sorry, James.”

Bucky takes a deep breath and forces a smile.

“I forgive you. Of course I forgive you, I know you didn’t mean it, but I swear to God, if you hurt her again…”

Steve is already shaking his head.

“I wouldn’t dream of either of you getting hurt. Where is she?”

“Our room.”

He nods and begins heading toward the woman to which he owes more than he can give.

The door is half ajar when Steve gets there, he slowly opens it to reveal his girlfriend in all her glory, curled up under their Captain America themed duvet - which Sam bought the trio as a joke last Christmas. Her face is clear-as-day red from her earlier upset, and it breaks his heart.

The man knocks gently on the day as if not to startle the poor girl.

“Hey, sweetheart.” He offers a solemn smile when she turns to see who’s there.

He hates the way he can see her hesitation to speak to him as opposed to her usual squeal of his name, arms opening wide to welcome him into her cuddle-fest.

“Hi.” She manages, forcing her own smile.

There’s silence floating between them, the only sound being Jensen Ackles, in his role of Dean Winchester, talking a load of nonsense about pie on the TV that’s streaming Supernatural.

“Baby, I’m so sorry.” Steve manages, taking a step toward the bed. “Nothing can excuse the way I yelled at you, and I’m so sorry for that, but, sweetheart, trust me when I say I didn’t mean it. I was so stupidly stressed, and I should never have let it get to that point.”

She nods, truly believing his words, but it still hurt.

The blond sits down on the edge of the bed, not daring to cuddle his girlfriend until she’s comfortable.

“I love you so much, (Y/N) (L/N).”

A bigger smile taints her lips at that.

“I love you too, Steven.” Her voice is barely a whisper but he hears it clear as day.

“Can I hold you?”

(Y/N) smiles and shakes her head as if he was being silly.

“You never need to ask permission for that, Stevie. No matter what.”

With another sad smile, he pulls the woman into his arms and holds her tighter than ever before.

“I’m so sorry, my love.”

“I forgive you, but no more missions for a while.” She whispers.

“Yes, boss.”

Bucky’s leaning against the doorframe, watching the interaction. He took a detour to Tony’s office and made sure to give the billionaire a piece of his mind about making sure Fury didn’t have Steve on any missions for a long time.

“Is this the last episode?” The brunet speaks up, stripping himself of his clothes as he enters their room properly.

“Yeah.” (Y/N) nods.

“I still think we should watch Vampire Diaries instead.” Steve chuckles, mirroring Bucky’s actions.

“I pick the TV show, Rogers shuts his cake-hole.” (Y/N) teases, mocking a line from Supernatural and snuggling herself in the middle of the bed, sandwiched between the two super soldiers - where she belongs. “I love you both.”

“Love you too, sweetheart.”

“Love you always, doll.”

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