#i will not warn nor let you know how to get unblocked

[hakusins]

yalls i just woke up what the hell is happening

[miley1442111]

protective- a.hotchner

summary: aaron (literally) fights for you

pairing: aaron hotchner x bau!fem! reader

warnings: angst, talk of abuse, violence, general cm topics, crying, reader is a victim of DV (not aaron), gross men (i think that's it?)

not entirely proofread

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Aaron Hotchner was a leader that you’d known from the beginning. He was your team leader, he was calm, collected, and calculated in everything. His lunch was the same everyday, he didn’t drink, didn’t smoke, didn’t swear all that often, and he wore the same sequence of shirts and suits every week. He was organised. 

Mondays was a blue shirt with a black suit, Tuesdays was a white shirt with a navy suit, Wednesdays was a white shirt with a black suit, Thursdays was a blue shirt with a grey suit, and Fridays was a white shirt with navy suit. Everything was fine and dandy, you trusted him, and you enjoyed his company. Everything was fine, until it wasn't. 

One stupid day, 8 whole months after you and your ex had broken up, he just so happens to be at the same bar you and the team are celebrating in, and he must’ve made it his personal mission to find you, to shout at you, to get you back. To piss you off. It hadn’t exactly been a good week, but then again, what week is when you’re dealing with murder cases? 

“Y/n,” Penelope sighed, looking out at the rest of the team on the ‘dance floor’. “I don’t understand,” she drew out the ‘understand’ to a ridiculous length, purely to annoy you. “How are you two so perfect?”

“Keep your voice down!” you hissed, turning back to her again. “We may not be at work but this is a work dinner.”

Did I mention he was your boyfriend too? 

“Have you seen yourself?” she gawked. “You’re gorgeous! He’s gorgeous! You two would make perfect babies” 

You chuckled. “I thank you for the flattery, but we can be honest here, he’s fucking gorgeous, and yeah, I’m alright,” you laughed when she hit you lovingly. “And, we’ve been together for 6 months, not 6 years. No babies for like… a while at least.”

“Y/n!” Charles’ voice rang out in the bar, meaning everyone around you turned to your group. “You fucking blocked me?!”He came up behind you, placing a tense hand on your shoulder, gripping the skin there until it hurt. “What kind of bitch does that?”

“Me, I guess,” you answered simply, staring straight down at your drink. Charles hadn’t been a very good boyfriend, nor a good person, and you didn’t really understand why you’d stayed for so long. Something about watching women get killed by their partners kind of snapped you into reality. Not that he was that bad but, he wasn’t good.

“Yeah right, you bitch. Unblock me, we need to talk about this!” 

“About what?” you scoffed, rolling your eyes. “We broke up 8 months ago, let it die Charles.”

“Baby, I miss you,” he leaned in closer, his breath heavy with alcohol. “I miss that pretty pussy too.”

You shuttered with disgust. “Get the fuck off of me,” you punctuated each word carefully and spoke slowly, making sure he heard you.

“Don’t be like that baby,” he smirked, tightening his grip. “Or it won’t end well.”   

You felt it. The gun in his holster. He wasn’t past killing you, you knew that. You knew he wasn’t safe. He never had been. He just wanted to get you home and into his bed, and you’d rather that than dead. 

“Get off of her,” Penelope demanded. He turned his attention to her, and you instinctively reached for your gun, only to remember that you left it at home. You weren’t about to let him hurt Pen. “And who may you be?” he asked. “Don’t,” you gritted out. “You’re here for me, not her.”

He turned his attention back to you. “I know that sweetheart, I don’t see why I can’t chat, do you?” 

“Let’s just go,” you told him. He nodded, a smug smirk on his face. You got up, his hand stayed on your shoulder the whole time, his other hand on his hip. 

“Good girl,” his laugh was dirty. Everything about him was dirty and sleazy and it made you sick. But again, better you than Penlope. 

Penelope’s eyes searched for someone, anyone to see you. He needed Morgan, o-or Hotch, or just anyone. “Hotch!” she called when she finally caught his eye. He rushed over to her. 

“Are you alright?” he asked, searching her for injury or signs of upset. 

“Y/n a-and this tall guy, he was talking to her and then she just got up a-and left. She looked scared. I-I didn’t know what to do,” she stuttered through her sentence, tears building in her eyes. 

You. Scared. You. Scared. You. Scared. You. Scared. You. Scared. You. Scared. You. Scared. You. Scared. 

It played in his head like a sick mantra until he finally did something. He rushed out of there as fast as he could. He had to find you. He needed to find you. 

He ran down the alley beside the bar, nothing. Ran down the road with Morgan on his tail, nothing. Cars weren’t even moving, it was just a regular night. 

“Y/n!” Spencer called out to you. 

There you were. Leaning against a car with him standing over you. 

The three of them rushed over, ready to just take you back inside. They didn’t know how dangerous Charles was, how obsessed he was. 

“Stop!” you warned them. “Go back inside, I’m alright, I promise.” 

“We’re not leaving you here,” Derek argued. “Man, get off of her-”

Charles scoffed. “She wants this, she���s into it. It’s just some harmless fun!” 

Aaron almost recoiled out of disgust. He knew what you were into, and he knew it wasn’t this. It had taken you almost the full 6 months you’d been with him to even be comfortable enough to kiss or touch him in public. You didn’t talk about it but… it did come with the territory of being a behavioural analyst. He noticed how you shied away from the way he touched you sometimes, he noticed how you refused to drink a drop of alcohol, he noticed how you flinched at big noises, he noticed how you held his hand during sex. All of these little things, it led him to one conclusion, you’d been abused. 

He promised himself if he ever got to meet the fucker, he’d hurt him, if not kill him. 

Then in came Charles, and thus began the night Aaron Hotchner ended up in jail for aggravated assault. 

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You sat in the police station, your head hung low. This was all your fault, none of this would’ve happened if you’d just-

“It’s not your fault,” Aaron whispered as he sat beside you, putting his cufflinks back on. Of course, you’d bailed him out and he’d gotten off with a warning and a fine, which was pretty good considering what he did to the guy. “Please don’t blame yourself.” 

You shook your head, willing yourself not to cry. “Aaron you got in a fight because of-”

“A choice I made to provoke a dangerous person,” he finished. “A choice I made.”

You nodded. “Aaron, your lip,” you placed a gentle hand on his cheek which he leaned into. His lip was split, he had a bruise forming on his head, and you knew his back was sore from the fight. You knew how hard Charles could hit. 

“My lip is fine, I promise. The paramedics gave me some painkillers. Are you alright?”

The dreaded question. No, you were hilariously, awfully, un-alright. You had to see Charles again, he touched you again, he talked to you again. You shook your head, tearing up.  Aaron didn’t shy away. He held you as you sobbed in that police precinct. He didn’t care about anyone staring, he didn’t care that the team was waiting outside, he didn’t care. He cared about you. You were all that mattered in that moment, and every moment after it.

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criminal minds masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, obx, the bear, marvel, top gun, the hunger games :)

[orikiys]

✿ ✿ falling out of love with skz ( first pov version )

✰ pairings: ot8!skz x fem!reader

✰ genre: angst, romance, heartbreak

✰ warnings: heartbreak, guilt, falling out of love, sad, unedited ( i wrote this before i go to sleep ), based on real life events.

✰ word count: 1.8k + words

౨₊ৎ chan

falling out of love, but why is it? is it because i don’t read your texts no longer? or is it because that the mere sight of you no longer has been jumping on my feet? like that heart that used to skip a beat, tell me baby, did we not love each other? you were the muse to each of my poetries, you were the lover but i’m still disheartened by the fact that i couldn’t be. i made it out. i removed you from my life, to those little gifts you gave from your clothes that i had— all of them. and maybe, just maybe a part of me did get removed as well. snatched away and lost in the process. but i don’t need your help in getting it back. because i know that if i do, history would repeat itself. i would fall for you over and over. but… you wouldn’t. it’s been a hard month to try not to look at your socials, to see if you’re just as miserable as me or not. it’s been hard to try not to unblock you and keep re-reading our texts all day long. it’s been hard to not think of you. because my love i hate the fact that i still want you after all that happened, but you don’t. but i can’t love you like this, not anymore. i keep picking myself apart and framing together the left fragments of us. but there’s no us anymore, is there? i don’t want to pretend any longer. i missed you. i loved you. but i keep forgetting the fact that maybe i no longer do. or maybe i’m just getting better at pretending? all i do know is, i don’t think i know how to love you anymore.

౨₊ৎ minho

i may have forgotten the reason, but i loved you once. i truly did with all of my heart. falling in love was hard. it felt restricted, constrained and suffocating. but falling out of love? that was even harder. with each sun rise, i feel myself drifting apart from you. it’s like i don’t even know you anymore! i wish i could go back to the time where i asked you about your favourite colours or maybe your favourite movies or your favourite songs, but i can’t. we are no longer lovers. nor are we friends. we are strangers with memories. strangers who once crossed paths. we walk past each other and it’s like i don’t even know you, like i’ve never met you. i’ve seen our pictures on my phone and i question what went wrong? but maybe we were just habits and we thought we’d always have it? guess not. it’s the way i know you’re no longer around, but everything reminds me of you. is it the scent of your lingering perfume on the pillow covers? or maybe it’s your half-empty coffee mix? if promises were meant to be broken, i accomplished them. i am sorry for all the late nights that i whispered to you telling you that i’ll always love you. i’m sorry for all the times i couldn’t be there when you wanted me to. i’m sorry for all the times that i failed to understand you when you were just trying to protect me. i’m sorry for learning how to unlove you. i’m sorry min. i truly am.

౨₊ৎ changbin

remember when you said that we have forever? then why does it feel like our time’s already over? it started not so long ago, then why? was it written in fate already? or did we make it happen? i remember the time we held hands and shared umbrellas. i remember the time where we’d talk for hours. i remember the time when you first kissed me, then why am i still waiting for a proper goodbye? i wish you would break me at once, so i wouldn’t have to feel guilty for loving you a little lesser everyday. i wish you weren’t so perfect that i didn’t have to find excuses to avoid you. i wish you would snap my heart in half, crumble to pieces and throw away the broken fragments, so i don’t have to feel like i’m in the wrong. for once, just let me escape the reality. for once, please don’t love me. for once, please forget me. for once, let me go. for once and for all, forgive me for not trying to love you harder. i don’t know where it all went wrong. i wish i could turn back the time and erase myself from your memories, so you won’t even think of me or the pain that i caused you. i may be the villain of your story, but i too was once the protagonist.

౨₊ৎ hyunjin

i wonder if you ever noticed when i stopped telling you my secrets. i wonder if you ever noticed that i stopped bringing home your favourite packet of chips. i wonder if you noticed that i began tensing up whenever you hugged me. i wonder if you ever even noticed the way my soul began detangling from you. and when you tucked my hair behind my ear, it didn’t leave a trail of fire like it did before. my body— it stopped reacting to you the way it did before. and i wonder, why you never said anything. because you noticed it. you noticed every single thing yet you stayed quiet right by my side. it’s the way i began hating you for making me feel guilty. but it always did feel better to blame others, didn’t it? would you mind if i sat next to you but didn’t smile? would you mind if i ask you what you liked once again? because i didn’t want it to end. you were the most beautiful dream that i ever experienced, yet now i can’t even recognise the beat of your heart. i realized that i fell out of love when i could no longer guess what you wanted. or maybe that time when i couldn’t bring myself to even kiss you. baby, where did it go? help me. help me get it back. falling out of love with you is a nightmare and i wish i could wake up.

౨₊ৎ han

i had all that i wanted, and then none. from the perfect life, to a fallen apart one. nothing stays for too long. and i wish i let go of everything a bit sooner. so it would hurt me less whenever i see you. it would hurt me less whenever i hear someone mention you. your letters, they still rest in my drawers. your rings, they still fit on me. except they feel too cold. i no longer wear them for an entire day without feeling the urge to throw it. but i don’t want that to happen, so instead i keep it locked away in a box. but the key, it’s with you. so i can’t bring myself to open it. many people told me that i have changed. but i truly wonder, have i? or is it just the fact they can’t fathom that i no longer love you like i did before? it may be my fault for it all, i’m the one to blame. but i tried my best to stop myself, to stop these unwanted feelings and in the end i broke your heart. i still remember that look on your face when you held me tight for one last time. goodbyes weren’t the best, but i wish it was. so i didn’t have to live everyday thinking that i killed your spark from the inside.

౨₊ৎ felix

i wish i could go back to the time where i didn’t have to think thrice before waking you when you couldn’t sleep. i hoped that i could’ve told it all to you sooner, but how could i have predicted that unfortunate ending? loving you was beautiful, delicate and everlasting. until it wasn’t. falling out of love was harsh but slow. the flowers have begun withering, i noticed. do you not water them? or is it because they remind you of me? i know what you’re trying to do. i’ve tried it as well. but it didn’t work. i tried erasing you and everything related to you. but at the end of the day it’s the way my phone’s lock screen still has your face. your number, it’s untouched. and perhaps if someone were to ask me about my favourite movie, without hesitation i would reply with the texts we sent, the little date vlogs we made. call it guilt or call it lost love. the time spent with you gave me happiness, and i called that love.

౨₊ৎ seungmin

i knew you were hurting. so maybe i should’ve applied bandages to your aching heart. i knew you were hurting when i began replacing our memories. was there something that i could’ve done to make your heart heal faster? but i knew it couldn’t replace the pain i’ve caused you. i used to tell the moon about you, now the stars await to hear my stories. i used to have that stupid grin on my face whenever you called me, now we stopped meeting. and it kills me to know how you’ve been living all this long after knowing that the one who you loved broke your heart. it hurts me too when you agree to everything and anything i say. is that how much you love me? that you’re even willing to be vulnerable in front of me? if given another chance i would fall in love with you over and again till i can’t escape it. i want to trapped, engulfed in your love just like you are in mine.

౨₊ৎ jeongin

my heart breaks at all the possibilities we could have been. it breaks even more every time i remember you wanting to start a family with me in future. i ended it all at once, didn’t i? i wonder how i could be lifeless that now a single tear falls while you cry for me. i wonder how i could be so lifeless that i forgot you’re my other half. i want to experience that spark of sleeping and waking to your texts once more. i want to experience being called ‘my princess’ for the rest of life. but it’s the way that we don’t even talk. we blocked each other from our lives, it was for the good. then why am i having sleepless nights filled with remorse? is this the part of moving on? or is it the part of moving back? because my ship seems to be sailing in the wrong direction. so my love, don’t pray for me anymore. the moon won’t listen.

[mizunetzu]

PART 3 OF ITS YOUR FAULT PLS !!!! I LOVE IT EKDBJSHD

Well since y’all asked so nicely-

——————

Kuroo x reader - it’s your fault (pt. 3) (final)

⚠️warnings - angst

Pronouns - male, he/him

part 1 can be found here!

part 2 can be found here!

——————

Sports sucks. That’s what Kuroo knew about (y/n), yet he still egged him on to play volleyball with him. He had a choice to say no, which was what younger him was hoping for, yet he still did it in hope of gaining his affection.

All his life he thought he was annoying. All his life he’d been in the mindset of how annoying he was, and how blissful it would’ve been for him to just disappear off the face of the earth.

So when (y/n) suddenly stopped showing up to practice, Kuroo didn’t expect himself to get worried.

He was starting to miss all the clingy touches, or the ‘good morning, Kuroo-kun!’ every single morning practice. He didn’t realize how quiet the walk was to his classes, or to and from home, when (y/n) wasn’t there to fill the noise on random things he found cool or how his day was. He didn’t know how expensive the drink (y/n) religiously bought him from the vending machine was, even though he bought him the drink with a smile plastered on his face like it was nothing.

“Oh, (y/n)? He quit the team.”

Kuroo dropped the volleyball he was holding. He’d gone up to coach nekomata to ask where (y/n) was, and why he wasn’t showing up to practice. But he was regretting asking in the first place. Nekomata gave him a sympathetic look.

Kuroo picked up his volleyball, gave him the best smile he could afford, and walked away. Why was he so devastated? Why did his heart feel like it sunk into his stomach? Why was his chest hurting like that? He should’ve been glad that (y/n) was finally gone.

So why does his heart hurt so much?

————

Kuroo figured he’d stop by his apartment to see what was going on. It’s been weeks, yet he couldn’t find him anywhere in his classrooms, and he nor Kenma could reach him on his phone.

When he walked up the stairs, looking for the ever familiar door to his apartment, he was nervous. For once in his life when going to talk to the boy, he was nervous. It wasn’t a good feeling, he never felt nervous to talk to him before.

When he noticed the door slightly ajar, he clutched the apology basket of sweets in his hand tighter. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to apologize for, though. Maybe for yelling at him, or maybe for something else.

“...hello? (Y-y/n)?” When he opened the door, he was met face to face with construction workers, and a blank apartment. Kuroos heart stopped beating. A man, who Kuroo believes was the apartment owner, looked at Kuroo, to his schools jacket, and down to his basket saying “I’m sorry (y/n) :(“

“Oh? Are you here for that (h/c)-haired kid?” Kuroo nodded vigorously.

“Sorry bud. He moved out a few days ago.” Kuroo couldn’t hide the devastated frown from tugging at his lips. He mumbled a small “sorry” and spedwalked out of the building.

He spammed (y/n’s) phone, probably texting more than he ever did his whole life combined, with “where are you’s” and “hey look I’m sorry, okay? Please answer me’s”

None of them were even read.

Kenma didn’t react well to knowing one of his best friends moved away so suddenly. Unlike Kuroo, (y/n) was good friends with him, practically attached to the hip. When Kuroo told him he couldn’t find (y/n) at his apartment, Kenma clutched his ds harder and glared at the screen like it was it’s fault for making him disappear.

But as much as Kenma blamed the ds, they both knew it was Kuroos fault.

———

Kuroo strived to be a better person. He came to terms with his feelings for (y/n), and how he could never repeat his mistake again.

He grew to love (y/n), and he messed it up so bad.

He’d be sure to never lead anyone on again, minus when he’d lead his team to victory as their new captain. He’d try and hold less grudges, tell someone when he doesn’t like them, as to let them down easy instead of blowing up in their face, and even bought his team snacks and filled up their water bottles during practice.

Kuroo walked around the unknown streets of miyagi, scanning his eyes for a mop of bleached hair. He knew Kenma got distracted on his phone, but this was excessive, even for him.

Eventually, his eyes landed on two bright figures. Kenmas usual bright blond hair, and a tuft of orange next to him.

“Kenma!”

Kenmas head whipped up, and he shut off his phone, but then a flash of (h/c) came into his peripherals. He looked a little further down and locked eyes with someone who made his throat close up.

(Y/n).

He looked older. Not in the way that he looks physically older, but he carried himself with a somewhat mature, grown stance that made Kuroo so a double take. His hair was slightly longer and he was wearing a black team jacket instead of the red Nekoma jacket he used to wear. Shocked (e/c) colored eyes morphed into an expression of pure resentment, making Kuroos shocked happiness short lived. Kenma walked up next to him, about to ask what happened when Kuroo turned his head away, walking with his head down.

Kenma waved bye to Hinata, when his eyes landed on (y/n). He was talking to a silver headed guy, with a distasteful frown directed at Kuroo. He didn’t say anything though, just ducked his head and walked beside his captain.

———

(Y/n) kept his eyes fixed on the ground, as Nekoma and Karasuno stood in a line, facing eachother. Kenma was practically standing in front of him, shocked to the core, but also averting his gaze. Not just because (y/n), but Hinata next to the boy was staring at him with his mouth agape.

Eventually everyone filed into the gym, Hinata stopping Kenma to talk, while taketora eyed him menacingly. (Y/n) side-eyed the little interaction with an unwanted jealousy. He wanted to talk to Kenma, he WAS his childhood and best friend. But it soon dissipated when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

That jealousy turned into hatred.

“Can we talk, (y/n)?”

(Y/n) slapped Kuroos hand away and stepped past him, pushing him back slightly with his shoulder.

“Don’t call me that. You have no right. It’s

(L/n).”

Kuroo watched as (y/n) stepped into the gym, his lips pressed into a fine line.

—————

(Y/n) sat on a bench in the corner with an obviously closed off aura, watching as people set up the net or the players from both schools talked to eachother. He walked as Kuroo shook hands with Daichi, not noticing the mop of bleached hair sit himself next to him. (Y/n) flinched when he felt something brush his shoulder.

He whipped his head around to find Kenma, sitting right next to him, but looking straight in front of him. He said nothing, and fiddled with his fingers. Guess he didn’t change, even after a new school year.

(Y/n) relaxed a bit and went back to stalking his team and old teammates with a somewhat less intimidating aura. They sat in heavy silence for what seemed like forever, until (y/n) coughed into his Karasuno jacket.

“S-so how you been Ke-“

“So you’re just not gonna tell me why you left?”

Kenma was looking straight at (y/n), with his normal, neutral gaze. It looked like his normal face, but (y/n) knew how hurt he was. He understood, though. He would be hurt too if his best friend moved without saying goodbye.

“I’m...I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

More silence consumed them. Sounds of sneakers squeaking and the rustle of the net being hung up seemed to vanish under the cloud of quiet sheltering them. Kenma stood up.

“I’m not mad. But I know why you left. And I’m not saying it’s a stupid reason, but you should talk to him.”

Kenma walked away without another word, leaving (y/n) to trail his eyes over to his old teammate, now captain. The frown that summoned up on his face came naturally, despite taking Kenmas words to heart.

He also stood up, brushing himself off and turning his cheery attitude back on. Why play a game with a frown when you’re about to destroy your old team?

—————

(Y/n) wasn’t mad he lost. He was actually quite satisfied with ticking off some of his old teammates by receiving spikes or feints no one saw coming. He sort of felt like an inside man. A spy even. It wasn’t enough to secure a win, but (y/n) never really cared for that.

Everyone was bidding their new friends goodbye, or just idly standing by. He promised Kenma to unblock his number, but only if they never talked about Kuroo again. (Y/n) knew he was being petty, but if it meant never talking to that piece of shit again, so be it-

“Stop ignoring me.”

Speak of the fucking devil. (Y/n) didn’t turn around, choosing to clutch the edge of his black jacket instead.

“Then stop trying to fix a friendship that never existed, Kuroo.”

“Oi!” Kuroo grabbed onto (y/n’s) shoulder harshly, pulling him back and making him stumble a little. (Y/n) pried and clawed at Kuroos iron hard grip. As much as he hated to admit it, he missed Kuroos touch, a lot.

“Can we please have a civilized fucking conversation? I’m fuckin begging you here!”

“Stop fucking cursing and let go of me you fuckass scheming bitch!”

(Y/n) swung at Kuroos head, but avertedly missed. He wasn’t sure if he missed on purpose, or if Kuroo ducked. Kuroo grabbed onto (y/n’s) waist, earning a choked squeak, and hauled him over his shoulder. Kuroo looked for a secluded area, ignoring the fists digging repeatedly into his back and the confused stares he got passing by his team and (y/n’s) teammates.

Kuroo practically threw (y/n) off his back, him stumbling down and hitting the back of a wall a bit harshly, and trapped him between his body and the wall. Both of his hands were on either side of (y/n’s) head, and his legs were long enough to trap him in if he tried to escape.

(Y/n) shrunk back into the wall ever so slightly, but kept the scowl present on his face. Kuroo pursed his lips and sighed.

“(Y/n)-“

“Let me go. I don’t wanna tal-“

“GODDAMNIT (Y/N) IM BUSTING MY BALLS HERE TO TELL YOU THAT IM SORRY!” Kuroo slammed his hands against the wall again, earning a surprised flinch from the smaller boy. “FUCKING LISTEN TO ME! PLEASE!”

Kuroos eyes softened a bit when he finally met eyes with (y/n’s) petrified form, cowering against the wall with his arms tucked in shakily. (Y/n) was quick to push past Kuroo though, diving past him and turning around, free from the wall.

“You see-this is what I fucking hate about you! You act so slick and perfect to the point where you lead people on to think they mean something important to you! I wanted to be a writer, Kuroo! I gave that up to spend my time bouncing a fucking volleyball around with you, and what did I get?! Nothing! I only did it for your stupid friendship, yet I didn’t even get that!”

(Y/n) practically had steam rolling out up his ears, and his words dripped with pure hatred with each retort. Kuroo opened his mouth to speak, but (y/n) beat him to it.

“So if you really want to apologize, give me back the blood sweat and tears I wasted on this stupid volleyball shit!”

(Y/n) punched at Kuroos chest with trembling hands. He kept punching and hitting Kuroo until Kuroo gently grabbed his wrists and pulled him into a hug. Kuroo felt him balling his fists into his back, trying to push him away, but he knew he was stronger. (Y/n’s) mouth was muffled by the cloth of Kuroos shirt, yet he still kicked and screamed at the top of his lungs.

“LET ME GO! I WANT MY CHILDHOOD BACK! I WANT ALL THE YEARS I COULD’VE BEEN WRITING OR LITERALLY BE DOING SOMETHING I ACTUALLY FUCKING LIKE BACK! ITS YOUR FAULT! ITS YOUR FAULT THAT MY ARMS HURT EVERYDAY! ITS YOUR FAULT I GAVE UP ON WRITING! ITS YOUR FAULT! I HATE YOU! I HATE VOLLEYBALL! I FUCKING HATE YOU! I hate you! I-I hate...I....”

Yelling turned into incoherent sobs as (y/n’s) punches died out into love taps. Kuroo said nothing, rubbing circles onto (y/n’s) back, who finally gave up and weakly wrapped his arms around Kuroos waist. He stained Kuroo with his salty tears, choking out half assed “let me go”s in between hics and sobs like a broken record.

They stood like that in comfortable silence, Kuroo combing fingers through (y/n’s) hair while the smaller boys sobs turned into occasional sniffles. Kuroo rocked gently from side to side, attempting to calm him down until he was ready to talk.

“I just wanted to be your friend, stupid Kuroo...” his words were barely understandable through the cracks and sniffles of his voice-also being muffled by Kuroos chest-but the taller boy heard every word as clear as day. He rested his chin on top of (y/n’s) head, looking off to the side.

“Sorry. If it means anything, I was stupid enough to hold a childhood grudge against you. You did nothing wrong. I just...i was dumb and disliked you because I thought you were lazy and annoying even though you were anything but that and...yeah. Sorry.”

Kuroo pulled away from the hug, the cold air hitting (y/n) like a truck. He silently whined at the loss of contact, wiping away stray tears with his team jacket. Kuroo awkwardly held his hands behind his back, his tongue suddenly feeling too big to fit comfortably in his mouth.

“...I’m sorry too.”

(Y/n) averted his gaze, his eyes half lidded and puffy from crying. Kuroo looked at (y/n) with a blank expression.

“Why?”

“For um...being annoying or something. And like...bitching a lot. I’m sorr-.”

Kuroo grabbed hold of (y/n’s) shoulders and shook him violently. “Don’t apologize! You don’t have anything to be sorry for! It’s my fault! Let me take the blame!”

“God shut up you’re gonna make me cry again.”

“...sorry.”

Kuroo looked like a kicked puppy, which made (y/n) burst into a fit of laughter. Kuroos ears perked up as he was graced with the sight of (y/n) wiping happy tears off his face and clutching his stomach. It was a beautiful sight, so beautiful that it made Kuroos chest tighten.

Chuckles died out into snickers as (y/n) huffed and leaned against the wall.

“So-what are we? Friends?”

Kuroo hesitantly nodded, watching (y/n’s) face intently for any sign of protest. When (y/n) broke out into a smile, Kuroo felt like he was on cloud nine. Like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders after so long. He felt like he was flying.

“We should probably head back. I gotta go back to my schoo-“

“Yeah. Yeah that’s probably..smart...”

It was kind of bittersweet knowing you had to say goodbye to someone you just got your hands back on, but after (y/n) unblocked his number right infront of him before enveloping him in a hug, he supposed it was alright.

“Bye~! call me~” (y/n) mouthed out, stepping onto the bus. People started asking him if he was crying, or what that meltdown was about, but he just shrugged and put some earbuds in with a reserved smile.

Sports sucks. That’s the mindset (y/n) has, and probably will have forever.

But not when I’m with you.

——————

Epilogue:

“(Y/n)!” Kuroo ran up behind the boy and picked him up, twirling him around before setting him down. Tsukishima visibly gagged while Yamaguchi snickered behind him, stepping off the bus and preparing for the training camp.

“Yo! What’s up! God I missed you and your stupid hair.”

“I missed you too~”

...

“So...are we-“

“Yeah, that’s what we said on video chat right? I mean-if you meant it and all.”

“I DID!” Kuroo picked his new boyfriend up, this time placing a chaste kiss on the bridge of his nose.

“And god I love you so much.”

——————

And that’s it!! I hope you enjoyed this series!! Also thank you for 100 followers!! I’m so thankful!!

[trashmenofmarvel]

Branded - Chapter 49

Pairing: Demon!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You begin your new normal, and come up with a new plan. Bucky likes it decidedly less than the last one.

(This is a fan AU of Falling’s Just Another Way to Fly by araniaart​ . Please check out this incredible series for all of your demon Bucky needs.)

Chapter Warnings: Mild explicit content, sexual tension, angst, Bucky being Bucky

AO3

Knowing that Bucky was fine with your extreme changes was comforting, but you weren’t willing to live with it. Not until you tried everything you could. After all, there was your mother to think about, and you weren’t sure she could survive the shock of finding out her daughter was a wizard/pseudo-demon.

After you asked Bucky to contact Strange, you both arrived via portal and went into his office. Before Bucky could get a word in edgewise, you shoved your notepad against Strange’s chest, glaring at him until he read everything you’d written down.

Strange pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

“First off,” he muttered, “there’s no need to threaten to tear me limb from limb if I put Sergeant Barnes back into the cryo-chamber. The chamber is beyond repair, and there is no more use for it, anyway. And while I appreciate your honesty in regards to… this latest feeding… as long as you’re not in an enslaved bond, I’m willing to change the terms of the Ancient One’s agreement. So, moving forward, please do not inform me of what the two of you do in privacy.”

Bucky choked from somewhere behind you; in hindsight, you probably should have warned him what you were going to tell Strange.

“And secondly, I will continue your education myself. If,” Strange added with a raised finger, “you agree to remain in the Sanctum for the time being. You are going to be exposing yourself to magical energies, and I want to view the effects they have on your current state firsthand. I will not bend on this point.”

Your tail lashed like a whip, and you were very tempted to reach back and grab it. Now you understood how Bucky must feel when his tail misbehaved.

You also resisted the urge to look back at Bucky with big puppy-eyes in hopes he would convince Strange to let him stay as well. But you didn’t. You needed to prove that you could do this without having your hand held. What happened to you in the demon realm was traumatic, you wouldn’t deny that, but you couldn’t let Bucky coddle you forever, either.

You gave a firm nod while looking Strange in the eye. There was another reason you wanted to be taught to harness whatever was inside you. A reason Strange didn’t need to know. A reason that had everything to do with Helmut Zemo.

The next month you spent in near isolation, only seeing Strange for lessons and glimpsing other sorcerers when you went to the library. When you weren’t in your lessons, that’s where you spent most of your time. Suffice it to say, you’d been fired after not calling in for a full week (you couldn’t really explain that you’d been kidnapped to Siberia), but that worked fine for you. The Sanctum and lessons were quickly becoming your life, and even Bucky didn’t see you as often as he probably liked.

You certainly missed him. Missed his scent and his touch and even just his comforting presence. But you couldn’t let yourself be distracted, not for a single night and not even for Bucky. You were doing this for him and for you.

Unlike before, when you couldn’t even create a spark, under Strange’s guidance you could now create ropes of fire and bursts of light from your hands. You couldn’t create a portal, not since the disastrous moment you accidentally sliced a demon in half, but Strange only patted you on the shoulder and said, “Perhaps it best we leave portals for the more advanced lessons.”

But one area you were excelling at was sensing and harnessing energies. Every night before bed, you turned that focus inward, imagining the demonic energy inside you being expelled back to the realm it came from. According to the laws of magical equilibrium, the alien energy would want to return to its natural state, which apparently was a sort of UV ray that came from the sun of that realm.

You didn’t really understand it when Strange explained it to you—hell, you didn’t have a grasp of most things he said—but you could get the gist of it. And lucky for you, you seemed to have a natural talent for magic now that you were “unblocked,” as he called it.

So when you woke up one morning and most of your demonic features had vanished, you were pleased but not too surprised. You’d thrown yourself into magical studies more than you’d done even in college, and it was showing. If only your mom could see you now.

Or… perhaps not. There were some parts of you that hadn’t changed, and you glared at your horns and tail with a frown. You’d have to start cutting holes in your pants from now on, not to mention learn how to guise yourself in public. A small price to pay for being able to speak again. Demonic Cats: The Musical had taken a curtain call.

Still, you didn’t complain, but nor did you lighten up on your studies. You were searching for something very, very specific in those dusty shelves of the archives, and when you couldn’t find it, you knew only one place to seek your answers.

When it was mid-March and the show outside had melted, most of the sorcerers were either on the rooftop or away from the Sanctum. It was the only chance you’d get, and now that you had a feel for sensing magic, you were confident you could find the vault a second time.

Without a hobgoblin to guide your way, it took you much longer to find the familiar stone staircase spiraling into the depths of the earth. You followed it with more confidence and less fear than the first time even as your heart thudded in your chest. Strange hadn’t told you not to come down here, and technically you were part of the Mystic Arts, so you had every right to explore your new home.

At least, that’s what you told yourself, standing in front of the massive door that guarded the vault. And to your eternal surprise, when you wrapped your hands around the handle and pulled, it opened with a loud groan.

Exhaling, you squeezed through the opening and came to an abrupt stop on the other side, forgetting to take a breath as you stared with wide eyes.

The room was empty.

All of it, gone. The creepy statues and mounted heads. The cabinets full of demonic body parts. You stepped into the middle of the room to confirm what your eyes were telling you. Only the lectern remained, empty and dusty as if the book that used your blood for ink had never been there.

Bracing your hands on your hips, you swore under your breath. Now how the hell were you supposed to—

“I told Strange what you found the last time you were down here.”

You whirled around, your tail sticking straight out and fluffing up to twice its normal thickness.

Bucky stared at you, his tone just as devoid of humor as his sharp eyes.

“So, he had everything moved just in case you went looking for it again.” He strode forward, his boots tapping softly on the stone floor, his guise retained as it usually was when he visited the Sanctum.

The slow, predatory walk had you soon backed away. You weren’t afraid, you were just… slightly intimidated.

“Why are you down here?” Bucky continued to walk toward you.

“I—“ Your voice cracked, something it still did after so long of disuse. “I was… doing research.”

“Yeah?” His voice was flat. “What could you possibly need to know that would require the Book of the Dead?”

Your back hit the edge of the lectern and your stomach fluttered when he didn’t stop in his approach.

“You seem to be doing just fine with Strange’s lessons,” Bucky said, eyes roving over your body, leaving both heat and a chill in its wake. “You managed to change back.”

“Mostly.” You cleared your throat so you wouldn’t sound like a frightened mouse. “Bucky, I… I was going to tell you. I’ve just, been busy.”

“Busy, huh?”

He stepped closer, only a few feet away when he tilted his head.

“If Strange is being so thorough with his lessons, then why hasn’t he taught you how to sense when something is following you?”

With Bucky’s last few steps, his guise melted away, wings half-flaring over his back as his eyes darkened. He loomed over you, bending down to growl in your ear.

“The next demon stalking you might not be so friendly.”

You closed your eyes, fighting yourself, but your shallow breathing and the goosebumps along your skin gave you away. There was definitely something wrong with you. Normal people did not get so hot and bothered from the idea of being hunted down by a demon, even if said demon was your kind-of-boyfriend.

“I assure you, I can take care of myself just fine.” You almost said it without a hitch in your breath, too.

Bucky pulled back, brows raised.

“Want me to show you?” you pressed.

He studied your face for a moment, and then gave a shrug and said, “Sure.”

Your lips twitching was all the warning he got before there was a conjured, fiery rope in your hand, whipping him across the chest and throwing him back several feet. Only his flaring wings kept him upright as he skidded across the floor.

There was a flash of approval, and oh God, excitement in his eyes as he licked his lips. You didn’t know if he was trying to distract you, or if he genuinely wanted to sink his teeth into you.

You wanted to find the answer and see how far you could push him. It was about time you put your skills to use on a real demon, anyway.

When his wings flared and his tail danced in delight behind him, you prepared yourself for Bucky’s attack—and it was good that you did. He crossed the distance between you in a blur, and you barely had time to move your hand in a circle in front of your chest.

An orange, concentric circle formed out of thin air, and it vibrated when Bucky’s human fist collided with it. He was still holding back, but that hit would have probably knocked you out cold.

Okay, you thought, watching him with a tilt of your head. You think you can pull your punches with me?

You shoved your palm against the makeshift shield, and the lines unfolded and wrapped around Bucky’s legs and chest, pulling his limbs together in a series of fiery ropes, and he shouted in surprise as he tumbled to the ground. His wings were useless, caught in the same trap against his back, and you stood over him in triumph.

“Neat little trick you’ve got there,” Bucky commented casually as he tried to wriggle out of his bindings. “Won’t hold me forever.”

“I know.” You smiled, and Bucky gave you his strongest side-eye. Your shit-eating grin only increased in size. “Don’t need it to hold you forever.”

You stood over him, a foot to either side, and you sat on his stomach, straddling him and probably looking like the cat that ate the canary. The tail flickering behind you didn’t help.

Bucky predictably went still, a mixture of interest and exasperation on his face.

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing.” You leaned down and half-laid on top of him, tucking your head into his shoulder. “Just enjoying this strapping young demon I’ve captured.”

“Young?”

“…strapping, then.”

Bucky snorted, and you dug your face deeper into his neck, reveling in his rich, calming smell. You licked him, teasing at first, but then with genuine interest.

“You gonna, uh… let me up?” He shifted under you, which was exactly the wrong thing to do, because now the growing bulge in his jeans was pressed right between your legs.

“Mmmm-no. You said you can get loose, I want to see it.”

But it wasn’t the ropes you were paying attention to when you sucked on his neck. Bucky groaned low in his throat. Both of you had forgotten about the ropes, and Bucky seemed oddly comfortable with them.

An option you might have to explore another time.

“You really want to test these bindings out, huh?” he growled, flexing his muscles as he suddenly strained against them. You nearly purred, appreciating the view of his armored bicep.

“Well, I gotta have something to show for all this training.” You went quiet, then, resting your cheek against his shoulder. “I miss you. I’m sorry I’ve been so distracted.”

“And I miss you, but I’m not going to give you a hard time for this. Not after what you’ve been through.” He turned his head just enough to press his lips to your temple. “Monster misses you too, you know.”

You lifted up, getting a good look at him.

“What? He… he came back?”

“He did. Hours after you moved back into the Sanctum.”

You didn’t know what to say. Monster had been missing ever since you… ever since Zemo shot you. Apparently, he’d been at the Sanctum when you went missing and had been an absolute nightmare to the sorcerers.

And then when the rescue mission failed to bring you back…

“How…” You swallowed. “How is he?”

To your surprise, Bucky rolled his eyes.

“A pain in my ass. He thinks he’s a lapdog. Every time I sit down, he jumps on me, kneading me with his claws like I’m mama cat.”

“Sounds like I’m being replaced,” you said, smiling as you leaned your head on his shoulder again.

“Nah. More like he thinks sucking up to me is gonna get you back sooner. Which… I’m all for that.” He brushed his lips against your hair, but your smile faded at his next words. “You will be coming home eventually… right? Because that place, my place, it’s yours too.”

You sat up again, avoiding his eye. As much as you wanted to take him up on that offer, and you did, so badly…

“Sweetheart?”

“I can’t. Not yet.”

Bucky’s voice was so soft it hurt when he said, “Can I ask why?”

Releasing a breath and closing your eyes, you knew you had to tell him. Otherwise he would just blame himself, and Bucky’s next question confirmed it.

“Is it because of… of Zemo?” He said the name like it was vile poison in his mouth.

“Yes. But not in the way you think,” you added when he blinked up at you in surprise. “It’s not me I’m worried about, Bucky.”

His eyes narrowed, scanning your face once before he looked around the room, as if just remembering where you were.

“Why did you come down here?”

You worried your lip, and Bucky watched the movement with growing suspicious. You didn’t want to tell him, not because you enjoyed keeping secrets—in fact, you had been enjoying the healthy communication between you lately—but Bucky really, really wasn’t going to like it.

“I came down here because I need to answer a question. A question that Zemo himself shed some light on.”

You focused on Bucky’s jacket zipper, fidgeting with it rather than meeting his eye.

“And… what question would that be?”

You took a deep breath. Fuck, here it goes.

“How do you prevent a free demon from being enslaved again?”

Bucky’s brows dipped.

“Okay,” he said slowly. “So you… what, wanted to be trained in magic so you could protect me? That’s… I wouldn’t ask you to do that, but I appreciate the thought. Still not sure why that involves the Necronomicon.”

“There’s more,” you said with a wince at Bucky’s scowl. “It’s not just that, though getting better at magic is part of it.”

“I’m not going to like this, am I?”

“Probably not. No.”

Bucky shifted under you like he was getting more comfortable, but his tone was extremely put-out.

“Let’s hear it, then. How do you prevent a freed demon from being enslaved again?”

“Well, you see…” You fidgeted again. Bucky may have been the one still tied in fire ropes, but you got the sense you were the one being dangled over a pit. “I already know the answer. I’m not sure how to… execute it.”

Bucky frowned.

“Execute what? Sweetheart, you’re starting to talk like a sorcerer, and you know how much I love that.”

You smiled a little, but it quickly faded again.

“All right. I’ll tell you my plan, but please, leave your questions to the end,” you said, trying to keep it lighthearted, but the gears in Bucky’s head were turning at the words my plan. You cleared your throat and continued.

“Now, the thing about free demons is you can’t protect them from being enslaved. Only demons bonded to a master are protected. Zemo said it himself; in fact, it was one of his selling points.”

Bucky scowled but didn’t interrupt you.

“He said if you were bonded to him, he could protect you from any HYDRA shitbags still hanging around. And… unfortunately, he had a point. It’s only a matter of time until someone else stumbles upon an old lab or a journal or whatever, and then they’ll be coming after you. Everyone knows about the Winter Soldier. Even if the world still believes he’s dead, that didn’t stop Zemo.”

Bucky’s scowl had vanished, his expression unreadable as he listened.

“So…” you continued, trying not to sweat. “If you were bonded to someone you trusted, someone who could protect you, that could be one way of doing it—“

“That’s why you’re training so hard?” he asked softly. “You would be willing to put a huge target on your back like that? Having me bonded to you?”

“Well,” you spluttered, face heating. So much for reprimanding Bucky for not keeping his questions until the end. “I wanted to be in the running, at least. I’m not exactly a threat compared to others you could choose from.”

“You mean Steve. I… actually talked to him about it already.” Now it was his turn to look away. “He said he’d be willing to if it’s what I wanted. It’s not what I want, but I still have to consider it.”

Bucky finally looked at you when you neglected to speak, and he rushed to say, “It’s different with a human master, it wouldn’t be like our pact at all. I don’t have to feed on him. It’s more fulfilling if I do feed on my master, but by no means is it necessary. I wouldn’t—I wouldn’t leave you to be with Steve, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

It was exactly what you were thinking, and you were so thrown off course that you floundered. Of course, you’d considered that Steve would be a good candidate, but you hadn’t realized Bucky had already had a discussion.

“Are you considering it?” The sudden lump in your throat made it difficult to speak. “Being bonded to him?”

He gave a soft smile, the kind that always held a bit of sadness.

“I was going to talk to you first, ask you for your input before I decided. Just didn’t get a chance until now. I hope you know I wouldn’t make a decision like that without you. Especially considering what happened last time I kept you in the dark.”

Whatever insecurities and jealousy lingered in your heart evaporated, and you put a hand on his chest, wishing you could express exactly how you felt. How much you loved him and didn’t blame him for any of what happened.

But like so many moments, you found words weren’t enough, and you just had to hope your actions communicated what you felt.

“Whatever you want to do, Bucky, I’ll support you.” You squinted at him and tapped him on the chest. “And what happened to me is not your fault. Zemo was watching us for a long time, and he would have found a way to use me against you eventually. I’m just grateful it turned out the way it did. Could have been a lot worse.”

“A lot worse than you dying and going to the demon realm?”

You folded your hands over your chest.

“I could have died and stayed dead.”

Bucky opened his mouth, hung there for a moment, and then closed it again. You waited for him to continue arguing, and instead, he changed the damn subject.

“You said that could be one way of doing it. There’s other ways?”

Hell, and what a subject change, too. For a moment, you really did consider lying, or at least telling him the other option was off the table if Steve was a choice. He was a safer option—that was without a doubt.

But you couldn’t lie to Bucky, or hold back. Not after everything. So you took a deep breath and pushed on.

“While I came up with that answer, I wasn’t satisfied with you being enslaved again, even if it was to me or Steve. So I tried to search for other solutions. In the archives, on the wizard internet, even Wong’s private stash of books.”

“There’s a wizard internet?”

“Bucky, please.”

“Sorry,” he said, not at all sorry. “Keep going.”

“I wanted to find a way for you to be as free as possible, without the danger of enslavement, and then… I had a thought.” You took a deep breath. “I thought… what if there’s a way to make the human-demon relationship equal?”

“…Come again?”

“The demon-human bond is always a power imbalance, right?” you said, excitement rushing your words. “Either the human enslaves the demon, or the demon owns the human. There’s no partnership. No equal exchange. No symbiosis.”

“Symbiosis.”

“It’s a term in biology.”

“Yes, sweetheart, I know what it means. I don’t think biology is going to help us here.”

“No, you’re right,” you muttered. “Which is why I needed a magical solution in order to create a soul-bound that’s equal from both sides.”

The truth finally hit home. Bucky’s eyes widened.

“No.”

“Bucky—“

“Absolutely fucking not.”

“I haven’t even told you the plan yet!”

“Does it involve you being bonded to me?”

You took a second too long to answer.

“Thought so,” he growled. “No fucking way am I ever doing that to you again.”

“You wouldn’t be! I told you, it would be an equal partnership, not—“

You yelped as the bindings shattered and Bucky rose at the same moment. You would have fallen flat on your ass if he hadn’t grabbed you by the arms and pulled you to your feet.

“Listen to me,” he said, face inches away. “You drop this line of thinking right now. You will not go looking into binding magic, and you will stay far away from anything demonic. Do you hear me? Tell me you understand and you won’t keep looking!”

You glared up at him. The full weight of his anger glared back, his wings rustling as his tail lashed back and forth.

“No.”

He bared his teeth at your refusal, a growl escaping from his throat. You didn’t flinch, though your tail betrayed you as the fur puffed out like a startled cat.

“Snarl all you want, it won’t change my mind.”

“You’re talking about experimental magic.” His gaze grew harder as his claws tightened around your arms. “Magic that Strange himself wouldn’t attempt. What makes you think you could survive, let alone succeed?”

Now it was your turn to bare your teeth, though they were blunted and human again. You almost missed the sharp canines.

“I summoned a portal to the demon realm when I was ten years old. I adapted to that same place, became more demon than human just to survive. I died and came back to life because of demonic magic.”

You met his eye, unblinkingly.

“Who else could do this but me?”

Bucky said nothing, his expression unreadable. You released a breath and let your voice soften.

“The Ancient One was adamant on three things. She wanted me to train with the leader of her order. She said you and I were very important to each other. And she told me that I would have to make a choice. A choice that would affect the both of us.”

You turned your hands so they were placed against his forearms. Bucky still hadn’t moved, but there was something like growing horror in his eyes.

“I know this is what she meant. This feels right. Like I’ve finally found my purpose. This is what I’m meant to do.”

“And what is that?” he asked, slowly, as if waiting for the other shoe to drop. And there was another shoe. A big shoe. A shoe he was going to hate, but you wouldn’t hide it from him. It was only a matter of time before he found out, anyway.

“Everyone in the Order has their strengths,” you said. “Wong is the archivist and keeper of knowledge. Strange has an innate understanding of time and prophecy. The Ancient One, according to Strange, had a deep connection to the Dark Dimension.”

“And you?”

You swallowed dryly.

“I have… a strong affinity for magic that comes from the demon realm.”

He jerked away, as if contact with your skin burned him. Before you could stop him, Bucky turned and practically fled from the vault, disappearing out the massive door without looking back.

You released a breath as your tail sank to rest on the dusty floor. The words of the Ancient One rang in your ears, and you wished she hadn’t been right. If Bucky had been on your side, you wouldn’t have cared who else disagreed. But maybe that was the point.

It wasn’t supposed to be easy. No test ever was. You just didn’t appreciate that you still had to prove yourself after all this.

Hadn’t dying and going to Hell been enough?

Your heart as heavy as the stones at your feet, you left the empty vault.

Next Chapter

[bellygunnr]

In The Big Green Man

Make that three...no, four, kills.

The solutions necessary to take down one, let alone four, Covenant capital ships is still occupying some of her processing power, which is unfortunate, given her current situation. The Mjolnir powered assault armor wasn’t quite as spacious as the cruiser her carrier was traipsing through. She couldn’t afford to be dwelling on extraneous things, even if they were directly tied to how much longer she might be living.

They might be living.

It was certainly a downgrade, residing here. Her view was limited to the (at the very least) numerous sensors and cameras built into the complex armor. She spun up threads to watch the her carrier’s vitals and alert him for dwindling munitions supply. Another thread went up to analyze the mapping of the ship, while the bulk of herself was dedicated to cracking Covenant communications. One or two processes were spooled to keep track of marines, as well, but she was not going to hazard her carrier about their welfare too much.

“Keep your head down. There’s two of us in here, you know,” she quips, using the speaker closest to his ear.

Her carrier says nothing at all, but he does press himself behind a mobile titanium divider to let his shields recharge. His vitals are holding steady despite the intense firefight and the three (four?) hostile blips on his motion tracker.

She was decidedly less calm, but she could sink herself into the threads of foreign data, cracking their encryption with laughable ease. The Covenant were a curious lot-- certainly technologically advanced, but lacking in certain areas.

“They’re using our escape pods to board the Pillar of Autumn,” she says crossly. “We go out, they come in. Clever bastards. Say, Chief, you know what you’re doing with that thing?”

“You’ll keep it level,” he replies flatly.

“Suppose I will.”

The shield reading on his HUD flashes green. Don’t get cocky, she wants to say, but doesn’t.

It comes as no surprise to her when she converts the Covenant language to her own and discovers that they intend to destroy the Pillar of Autumn. That is what they did best-- totally annihilate humanity and her fleets-- after all. But the unexpected resilience of the aging hull is frustrating them. Good. 

There’s also plenty of chatter about the Demon. Word travels fast across their combat comms, it seems. When the Chief brings his great green hide to bear, plasma rifles are already up to meet him, draining his shields with a combined barrage.

It’s interesting to watch him think and move. His eyes flicker constantly, hardly ever dwelling on any one detail. His jaw tightens when a marine takes a plasma slug to the gut, then one to the head, where his corpse creates a roadblock amidst the barricades and toppled steel containers. She tries to tune out the exuberant cheering of the enemy and is glad the Chief cannot hear it.

“There are Elite Majors ahead,” she says.

She does not say, they’re using a separate communications channel, nor does she say, they’re hunting you specifically, because they are approaching the deep freezer in which the Chief was residing and they are shattering the dividing glass to get to him, dismissive of the flaming breaches in this section of the ship already. 

All he needs is a split second warning and all she needs is to quell her frustrations at how useless she is, confined to the sizzling cage of this powered exoskeleton. She’s drinking in tons of data, always so much, but her companion has no use for it, his faculties better dedicated to the task at hand. 

But she does say, “Chief, you’re hurt,” because his shields had faded fast and there were plasma burns melting the tech-suit, singing the skin. She says it because his brainwaves are wiggling in such a way that she knows he’s going to ignore it, intent on breaking out of the ship. 

“I’m fine,” he says, predictably.

“Take the emergency aid kit on your way out,” she replies sternly.

(He does, snatching it off the wall without pausing. He growls in the back of his throat as he begrudgingly obeys her wordless nudge to stop, take shelter, and patch up the damage before moving on).

“The nearest escape pod is this way,” she says. “We can use the maintenance tunnels, considering this part of the ship is... a little smashed.”

“A little,” the Chief echoes.

“A little! There are Covenant in here, as well.”

The Covenant are yelling about the loss of two of their leaders, presumably the Majors from before. Another Elite-type goes down and the Grunts squall something awful. For every connection Chief quiets, three more take its place, the alien populace forever replenished by the hijacked airlocks of the Pillar of Autumn.

And the Pillar of Autumn was flying mostly on the wings of her parting gift, set for a hopeful belly landing on the strange object below. Brief, limited scans had shown her promising terrain, which she dreamed of wandering in a hotly throttled aspect of herself. There was no time to speculate. If all went well, she’d be experiencing the real thing shortly. 

Provided Chief lived, of course. But he would, because he was the Master Chief, capable of anything out of sheer disregard for life alone. 

His vitals were spiking. Only a few of his sensors were unblocked by smoke. His field of view was occupied by the cowering visage of a marine-- whose interlace reported mild injuries-- and the looming bulks of more Elites. Rifles and a primed grenade bared down on them.

“Chief! This is our only chance to get off this tub. Get in!”

Was she panicking? Perhaps a little, but who could blame her? The Chief had already been injured once on this foray and there really wasn’t another escape pod available. All others had been ejected or hijacked or destroyed, but he was struggling with desire, she could see it in the overactive synapses of his neural implants.

She tries to tune out the pained cry of the marine as he scoops him up and shoves them into the pod. He follows suit, letting the heavy hydraulic door seal shut behind them all. His eyes are still flickering. 

The Covenant want their ‘demon.’

“Chief,” she urges.

“Punch it,” he says, but he’s intoning to the pilot, shoving his way to the front of the pod. “Let’s get out of here.”

She feels herself relax in great spools of code. 

(She doesn’t miss how his vitals also shift, equalizing back into acceptable, slightly human parameters. Was there a correlation? Did she have time to find out? Another thread, dedicated.)

The pod shudders as it flies through space. 

It’s luck that keeps them undetected. Probably.

[kyoupann]

here's the second crack-prompt-turned-whatever fic.

Screenshot of the ask at the end so that you can have fun trying to guess what the original prompt was.

Word count: 769 Warnings: nothing, it's just uuh...

Three hours.

They had been staring at the engraving on the pillar for exactly three hours and counting

At first, it was entertaining to see every boy try to solve the puzzle in their own way. They came up with explanations of how it looked like something they had seen and done before, repeating what they had done before, just to be met with nothing. Not a single mechanism activating nor even a tiny rock moving out of the way.

He never thought that it would ever come in handy in a situation like this. But here he was, probably kilometres below the ground, trapped in a cave system that seemed endless, and with a group full of youngsters who apparently had never attended a normal celebration once in their lives.

Sky had suggested lightning the torches in the room one by one in cardinal order.

Twilight had supported that and when nothing happened, he proposed putting them out with the Gale boomerang counterclockwise.

That didn’t work.

Legend had looked at the sequence again: right, left, right up, left up.

The torches in the room didn’t work, which had left the 5 rays of dim light coming through the top.

Legend tried to block and unblock them in order. Nothing happened.

Wind and Four had suggested pushing the pillar so that it would be aligned with the one on the other side of the room. Nothing happened. Maybe they had to move the other pillar instead.

It had been fun while it lasted. But now, three hours and fifteen minutes in, Time had grown impatient. So without any word, he just walked towards the pillar, opening his way through the crowd. He stopped the Veteran from throwing a punch at the Captain, his patience having grown inexistent. Though he must admit, he would have done the same, the Captain’s suggestion to solve this little riddle was plainly idiotic.

He stood in front of the pillar, examined it once more, just to make sure his assumption was right. And it was; the sequence was clear, as clear as the worn-down rock showed it, but clear nonetheless. If anything, he could only spot one minor difference from the version he knew. No worries, he could easily adapt to it; it was a good thing then that he wasn’t as pressed about accuracy as Malon, as he was sure that not following would not only be a waste of time, but also extremely embarrassing for him if it didn’t work at all.

He had to focus and put on his best poker face. He put his right hand out, then the left one. Now with both arms stretched in front of him, he turned his right palm up, followed by the other.

Confusion settled in the room, but Time hadn’t tried anything yet and everyone was curious to see what would happen, so they let him do whatever that was.

He crossed his right hand on his left shoulder and repeated the same movement with his left hand. He brought his right hand to the back of his head, his left hand mirroring the other once more. One by one, he put each hand on the side of his hips

“What the fuck is going on,” he heard one of the boys say, probably Legend, just proving how uncultured they really were.

“Some sort of… spell? Dance?” Hyrule tried to explain, “it’s hard to tell by how dead he looks."

But he did not let such comments stop him. He was confident in his moves and that in no time they’d be out of that place.

Finally, he moved his hands to the back of his hips, rocked his hips from side to side in a quick motion and on the last sway, he hopped and jumped 180° degrees, finally facing the group of heroes in varying states of shock.

The room was completely silent for a few seconds and seeing that nothing happened, shame was starting to slowly colour the tips of ears. However, he did not let it show on his face; he kept a straight look. Then, a clicking sound reverberated through the chamber. On the far end to the right, a passageway opened.

He only cocked his head chin towards the new entrance , commanding the boys to follow after him.

“What the fuck was that?! Why did it work?!” Legend shouted at him.

Time shrugged and turned to inspect the tunnel, “whoever designed this had a sense of humour.” He simply said as he crouched down, “anyway, looks like this gets smaller the further it goes. Sailor, Smithy. You two go first and get back to us on how to proceed.”

* * * * * *

Original prompt:

Spoiler: the next room is achy breaky heart but fast aka payaso de rodeo

I know I asked for this but anon this was too much. I don't even know how or why I just. I just got whiplash when I read this one. This was a real challenge, I'll give you that. I hope you're proud

Anywussy, check my AO3 for some decent stuff (mostly Four-centred), or my tag Kyo writes for some quick, light-hearted reading material (: and if you want to send another crack prompt for me to write eventually, feel free to do so! and thanks for reading, tkm y'all <3

[simsadventures]

Not Me: Chapter 5: Confusion

CEO!Bucky x wife! Reader

Summary: Bucky recalls times in your marriage that were ambiguous, trying to find out where the truth is, while going carefully over the contract he signed when he got the company. And he suddenly sees things from a different perspective.

Warnings: angst (what’s new), swearing, mentions of sex, Bucky’s “POV”

Word Count: 2186

A/N: A lot of good’ol Buckaroo and his thoughts on certain issues in this chapter. Thought it might help. So what did you guys think? :) xx Oh btw, I have no idea how contracts work, so bear with me :D

Series Masterlist __ Masterlist

< Previous Chapter

Bucky was sitting on what was previously your bed, reading the letter you left behind over and over. At first, he went straight to his previous way of thinking, believing this was some kind of manipulation from you. But the longer he read it, the more he realised it was genuine. You were genuinely hurt, Bucky suddenly realised, and his heart gave a painful thud in his chest.

Was it all just some weird game somebody else was playing, destroying two innocent people along the way? But more importantly, was Bucky unknowingly destroying you all this time, when you had nothing to do with all of this?

Bucky recalled the night he “proposed” to you. At that time, he thought you were playing some sick game, trying to provoke him with your happiness. But he suddenly imagined your joyous face in front of him, the tears in your eyes giving them even glossier look just made you look prettier. But then, Bucky didn’t want to think of you as pretty or hot. You were the enemy for him and his family, and he tried to do everything in his power to forget about the way you tasted when he finally gave in to his urges.

Sex with you was the best he ever had, and every time he was with a woman ever since he imagined your face in front of him. He thought of the little noises you made when you came for him, and it never failed to make him horny. But he willed himself to forget about it, to think of it as sealing the deal. He slept with you on a few other occasions, always drunk because that was the only way he could look at you the same way he used to when you were younger.

Bucky closed his eyes and sighed heavily. Could he have been doing all that with you all this time, if somebody wasn’t playing you two like puppets?

He laughed bitterly as he realised that the only played person was most probably him. That from the drama in the kitchen and from the letter in his hand, it started to be more than obvious you had no idea what was going on. You were probably just happy to finally have a chance with him, after all those years he tried to make himself as independent as he could.

Bucky needed to talk to you as soon as possible, just to ask some general questions in case he was wrong about you right now, but he doubted he was. Things finally started to make a little more sense. He still didn’t want to think of the people or the person who was actually doing all this, because he had the feeling he wouldn’t survive it just now.

But first, he needed to consult the only other person he felt like he could trust. Steve.

Bucky gave him a short call asking him to come to his house, and Steve didn’t waste a second getting there. He could hear that something was seriously wrong by the tone of Bucky’s voice. His best friend was rarely confused or surprised, let alone upset.

When he came into the house, he called for Bucky, looking around, seeing that some things have changed, and from the weird feeling in his stomach, Steve could say that you were gone. For good. And although it should have been a good thing after the things you’ve done to Bucky and his family in the recent year and something, Steve felt that there was more to the story.

He almost ran up the stairs, finding Bucky in your room, sitting on your bed with something between his fingers. Bucky had his eyes closed, and if Steve didn’t know better, he would say Bucky was actually asleep. But from the set jaw and clenched fist and overall rigid posture, Steve knew that his best friend was just thinking.  

“Hey there, bud. What happened? Where’s Y/N?”

“Gone. She’s gone, pal. And while a few days ago I would take that as a victory, I have the feeling I should be mourning and not celebrating. I told you about the little fight we had in the kitchen the night of the party, right?” Bucky asked, and Steve just nodded, beckoning Bucky to continue.

“I’ve had some doubts ever since then, but today, man. Today my father and her father vetoed me in company’s vote, which I didn’t even think was possible. But about that later. And Y/N was sick the week after the party, and then I was too busy to actually take notice of her, but that doesn’t matter. My father came barging in today, telling me that Y/N wanted a child from me or she’ll reveal some new photos that I haven’t seen yet. But, I’m telling you, man, she was too sick to even have her eyes opened, let alone to plot a fucking masterplan. And then I came home, ready to confront her, finally, and I found only this letter laying on her bed, and she is fucking gone,” Bucky sighed and handed Steve the letter to have a look on his own.

They both remained quiet while Steve read over the letter a few times to be sure he didn’t miss anything.

“This actually sounds like she just wants to be free, doesn’t it? Like she would actually be relieved if I signed the divorce papers. Or am I just seeing things?” Bucky asked, genuinely concerned.

“Look, something stinks here. Because this is really Y/N telling you that she wants to have nothing to do with you, ever again, pretty much, and from what you told me about the party, she also acted honestly. So why somebody who is trying to get away from you and whose life you made living hell, I quote here, would want a fucking kid with you? It doesn’t make any sense, Buck, none at all,” Steve mused, looking at Bucky with concern in his eyes.

“What if, all this time, it wasn’t her making all those demands, but somebody else, a third party, and the only thing I did was hurt her over and over?”

“I don’t know, Buck. And why didn’t you pick up her phone? If you have this feeling for some time, you could’ve talked to her today,” Steve added.

Bucky quickly grabbed his phone and showed Steve his missed calls. There were none.

Steve’s eyes perked up as he looked from Bucky to the phone and back to Bucky.

Bucky then went through his contacts, finding yours under simply your name, and when he clicked on the contact, it showed him that your number has been blocked in his phone.

“You blocked her in some tantrum?”

“Have I ever had a fucking tantrum, man? I had never blocked anybody, even that crazy chick that called me nonstop when we were 20. I never tried to contact Y/N, that’s on me, but I wouldn’t block her number. What if she was in danger and she’d call me? I wouldn’t be so dumb.”

Steve scoffed and raised an eyebrow at his friend. “If what you think is true, I don’t think she’d call you if she were in danger.”

Bucky sighed, knowing that Steve was right. He quickly unblocked your number and stared at the screen, musing at whether to call you or not. He didn’t even know what he’d say anymore. He was just confused, and he couldn’t grasp anything that was happening around him. And he hated to feel this helplessness inside him. But if you were really innocent, Bucky thought, you must have felt like this the whole time. And once again, Bucky’s heart hurt at the thought of it.

Bucky didn’t call you that night. He thought he would look into the contract before he made any rash decisions. Luckily, he grabbed it last night as he was leaving the office so he could have enough privacy to go through it line by line.

He was going through it, paying attention to every little detail. So far, nothing caught his attention, everything was the way it supposed to be and what he remembered from reading it the first time.

It was when he got to the almost conclusion of the contract, that he stumbled upon an interesting clause.

In case Barnes and Clark’s families connect through marriage, the company cannot be sold to anybody else, nor can any third party take over the company as such. In this case, the founding members of the company stay in leadership positions, able to veto the CEO’s decisions. Further explanation of this clause to be found in section 17, clause 198.

Bucky furiously turned the pages of the contract between his fingers, trying to get to the section mentioned. When he got to section 17, he quickly skimmed through the pages to find clause 198, but he could only find number 197 before section 18 started.

Ok, now this was more than weird. Where the hell was the fucking section and how in the fucking hell would you even be able to put such shitty clause into his contract? You’ve never even seen the fucking papers. Before this day, it was safely confined behind closed doors of his office. The only people who ever even saw the contract were… his and your fathers.

Bucky’s stomach clenched, recalling the photos of his sister splayed on different surfaces, on various men, doing God knows what. Would any of your fathers be so insane, especially his own fucking father, to use his daughter as leverage against Bucky? And what was the third party mentioned in the contract?

Bucky hoped that his confusion would dissipate after reading through it, but it only caused him to be more upset. It was now more than evident that you had no fucking idea what was happening around you. And that this whole time, you were actually trying to be a good wife to him, just trying to please him and his fucking manners.

He acted like a douche to you this whole time because he thought you were the devil’s spawn, trying to get a reaction out of you and make your life as bad as he thought his own life was, while you had no idea what was going on.

Bucky wanted to die there and then. He quickly picked up his phone and shot you a text message, hoping you two could talk for the first time since you got married, and you could find a way to be civil. He knew that hoping for anything else would be foolish. He would sign the divorce papers to free you from himself. He was obviously toxic for you, and he wanted to redeem himself, even if it meant never seeing you again.

You slumped down on your couch, totally exhausted. You tried to make your apartment liveable and comfortable, just trying to make it feel like a home. Not that you felt like that in a long time. You thought that taking stuff you bought to make yourself feel better in Bucky’s house would prove a good thing, but the more you looked at the fluffy pillows, the worse you felt.

You knew it was a good thing that you left and you had no regrets about that part. But as you were finally alone, you realised one simple thing.

Sure, Bucky made your life a living hell for no apparent reason. And you definitely weren’t forgetting nor forgiving that anytime soon. But you knew you could’ve done more. That you could’ve talked to him, could’ve made him listen to your reasoning. It might have not helped, but you should have tried more.

But that was in the past, you knew Bucky, and you had no future, and you only prayed you could be civil enough to maybe come back to work one day. You got up from the couch to have a quick shower, getting the dirt and exhaustion out of your system.

When you got up, you went to cook yourself some super unhealthy dinner, something you missed terribly in your previous life. You just wanted to check your phone to check the time so that you could cook your meal properly.

Your heart stopped when you saw there was a message waiting for you.

From: James

  Hello, Y/N. I know you probably don’t ever wanna talk to me again, and I understand that. But could you find it in you, to see me, possibly one last time? I promise I’ll sign whatever divorce papers you wish me to. I just feel like I should explain certain things. You don’t own me anything, but I’m begging you to give me the chance to tell you some information, and most importantly, to apologise for everything.

Please, let me know if you would be up for this.

 Bucky

Oh shit, you thought and had to grab the counter behind you not to fall from all the shock coursing your veins. What the hell just happened?

/Next Chapter >

Not Me:

@jennmurawski13​ @lovely-geek​ @vogueworthy-barnes​ @veronawrites​ @loser-alert​ @trumpettay​ @thesoldierrogers​ @girlbehindthecameraposts​ @little-smurf​ @jesseswartzwelder​ @fuckwhateverfuck​ @learisa​ @karla-silva​ @blowing-mikey​ @afterlaughter27​ @93generation​ @ungratefultroll​ @maybeisthemoon​ @greenprisca​ @geeksareunique​ @champagnesugamama​ @hailqueenconquer​ @grincheveryday​ @mc225g​ @thatweirdwalangpake​ @neerness​ @ntlmundy​ @captainchrisstan​ @sspider-parker​ @cap-just-said-language​ @nd1998sc​ @cltex84​ @eliza5616​ @clearlysaltybeard​ @joannie95​ @angel-of-blue​ @hailmary-yramliah​ @rohaintahquil​ @ilovemysupersoldiers​ @xbuckxnastyx​ @jemimah-b99​ @imcreepininyourheartbabe​ @welovecaptainamericaass​ @void-imaginations​ @what-is-your-plan-today​ @nikishadow​ @ariesmadness97​ @sarcastic-and-cool​ @asiaaisa77​ @supermassiveblackhope​ @fifiyau105​ @sarcastic-and-cool​ @littlemissporter​ @yanderedarkfics​ @onl-you​ @inquisitor-selvala​ @fallenoutofrose​ @nostalthicc​ @mrsfox79​ @sergeantbuchanans​ @barnestann​ @coke-zerooooo @losers-club6​ @boogiewoogiebutt​

Forever Tag:

@eileenalone​ @sasbb23​ @p8tn0lish​ @coffeebooksandfandom​ @waiting4inspiration​ @caswinchester2000​ @mogaruke​ @justthatfangirloverthere​ @mushyjellybeans​ @livsheph​ @sebbbystaaan​ @notyourtypicalrose​ @itsunclebucky​ @rinkashirikitateku​ @leosandbuckysgirl​ @miraclesoflove​ @keithseabrook27​ @official-and-unstable-satan​

Bucky Taglist

@this-kitten-is-smitten​ @paradisiacalsparks​ @crazybutconfidentaf​ @owlyannah​ @lassini​ @s-trawberryv-eins​ @reniescarlett​ @bxrnsfeyson​ @the-soulofdevil​ @haru-ririchiyo​ @winterboobear11​

Marvel Taglist

@voltage-my2dlove​ @kneel-begyourpardon​ @lumar014​ @ptrs-prkrs​

If your name is crossed out, tumblr won’t let me tag you for some reason, I’m sorry.

If you’d like to be tagged comment/message/send an ask. If you like the story, please reblog :) any comments are appreciated, even the critical ones. Always a space to get better, so let me know what you guys think.

[revengerevisited]

i found this vanqua fic the other day, it’s only a couple chapters but i like it so far. :3 it does have a ‘creator chose not to add warnings’ label though, so please be cautious. also baby-xemnas aka kotbysleep (nsfw) aka nekokat42 (also nsfw) is a much better vanqua artist than me so please check him out. X’D (heads-up those twitter threads are way longer than you think so make sure you see eeeverything~).

anyway, more wip art below the cut, plus my endless rambling (i talk about 18+ topics, just a warning)—

i’m still working on venqua week and i’ve got 2 more prompts to go, one i haven’t started yet and one i’m halfway done with—

~aaand yeah i’m re-using it for a vanqua pic too... X’D am i lazy, or just resourceful? you decide. ;P

but yeah, both of these pics will have an 18+ version as well. i admit i’m super anxious about posting it next week, as i’ve seen just how absolutely toxic fandom is on twitter. like, you thought tumblr was bad? i’ve spent the last few days preemptively blocking literally hundreds if not thousands of antis just so i can feel a little safer posting my content without some asshat calling me a pedo or telling me to kill myself over cartoons. XU i somewhat worry that i’ve accidentally blocked some people who were just joking around and weren’t actually harassing anyone, but it’s just so hard to tell sometimes. if i’ve accidentally blocked anybody here, just let me know so i can unblock you. :3 (idk why that sentence came out so sinister sounding but i’m legit being sincere X’D).

but seriously, idk when fandom suddenly got such a stick up its ass (around 2016-17 from my guesstimate) and decided aging-up a fictional character by a year or two is such a crime, but i guess that’s just the state of things. :T i could draw vanitas as a centaur or make him blond or whatever and no one cares, but aging him by one year? suddenly big problem! yeah, right. XP like, i know i said every character in kh is 17+ as of khmom (ignoring any weird timeline retcons of course), but heck i could make an honest case for the wayfinder family all being adults. hear me out—

it’s been 13 years since bbs, right? and for 12 of those years, aqua was in the realm of darkness, terra had some awareness while being possessed by xehanort, ven experienced some of sora’s life when he was in a coma, and vanitas was almost certainly in ven/sora’s heart as well, so all four of them could be said to be 31, 33, and 29 respectively. it’s not like their character models were any different when they were young teens as opposed to older teens, so can we really be sure they’re not all 30~ by now? heck, since ven is from the age of fairytales i could say he’s 1000 years old if i wanted too! (psst, it’s almost as if these are all fictional characters living in a fantasy world with time travel and whatnot and their ages are completely arbitrary numbers nomura made up on the spot, numbers which he has retconned before! :P).

now i don’t actually think they’re that old, but if people are gonna hassle me over a goddamn 2-year age difference, i might as well say fuck it and have fun with it, right? ;P it’s not like antis even know what the canon character ages even actually are, like when they try to say that skuld is underage when (assuming she’s subject x) she’d be around 28~ by now, or axel and saïx’s age. (maybe i’ll draw some saïx x skuld art and watch the antis lose their minds. ;P it wouldn’t even have to be nsfw to rile them up).

anyway, i do admit i’m feeling a little burned out on art recently. XP i’ve been trying to get one art piece out per week plus venqua week, and yeah it’s kinda taken its toll. i know this really isn’t anything anyone wants to hear, but i’ve been kinda thinking of moving away from fandom projects to work on my own original work. now, i’m not saying i’m abandoning a heart and a half nor anything as drastic as that! but i have spent like 2 years of my life on it just to get to the halfway mark, and i’m not sure i can spend 2 more doing only that.

i’ve got an original story idea that i’ve been working on-and-off on for the past 7 years or so, and i’m thinking of going back to it again (it does need a pretty big re-write). its main pairing is actually pretty vanqua-ish, now that i think about it. like, imagine the realm of darkness but instead of the heartless it’s infested with demons, and the main characters are the demon-slaying duo of a serious yet kindhearted half-angel and a feral, snarky half-demon. i even aged them up from 14 to 18 so none of my potential fans have to suffer the same anti bullshit that i have. XP

what else can i ramble about... oh, i got these super cute pins for christmas! :D the heartless is by xkirakira, and vanitas and aqua are by maxxmerch. they’re just so cute! X3 i hope everyone had a merry christmas and a happy holiday! i’ll see you guys later. ^3^ 

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*looks around sheepishly* ó3ò alright... confession time. spoilers for a heart and a half for the rest of this post—

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.

.

sooo~ i’ve kinda hinted at this before, but yeah i’ve always planned on adding a sex scene to a heart and a half; when i started writing back in 2018 i hadn’t realized how hostile fandom had become compared to only a few years ago, and it worries me that some readers might drop the fic because of it, or be angry with me over the underage aspect. :(

idk, i could go on about how i just wanted to explore every aspect of a romantic relationship, or how other disney/square enix characters married or had kids young (ariel, sarah hawkins, héctor, claudia strife, possibly jasmine), or how attempting to apply real-world rules to a videogame fantasy setting is inherently silly and pointless, but really it’s just ‘cause i love vanitas and aqua to bits and i just wanted to write a cute and funny mild sex scene between them (this fic is rated mature, not explicit, so much less graphic than confection affection), and at the end of the day they are just fictional characters, after all.

i guess all i can hope for is that i’m a skilled enough writer to pull it off in a believable way, and that my audience won’t be too put off by it. >_> i know vanitas and aqua have technically only known each other for about 2 months so it might not be ‘realistic’ for them to go so far into a relationship so soon, but i think it’s important to remember that ultimately this is a romantic fairytale, and other canon disney couples haven’t seen nearly as deeply into each other’s hearts as vanitas and aqua have (and this video also helped me feel better about it).

i also wanted to finish that nsfw venqua fic i started a few months back, it’s set just before the mark of mastery so yes ven would be 16. i suppose it’s a way of testing the waters to see what kind of reception i’d get (hopefully positive) before i get to that part of a heart and a half. i was also thinking of including some of the uh, ‘keyblades as erogenous zones’ aspect from this terraquaven fic as well... w-why are you looking at me like that?! it’s funny! *sweats nervously* o3o’

in all honesty, i’m probably just overthinking all this (which, knowing me, is almost a guarantee >_<) and i should just *ahem* let my heart be my guiding key, and just write what i want to write without worrying about it all the time. i just get so anxious so easily... buuut that’s not really news to anyone, now is it? ;P well, i think that’s the end of my endless ramble, thanks for reading if you got this far. X’D and i really hope i didn’t actually upset anybody about a heart and a half. ;_; i just felt like i needed to vent a little, but don’t worry about me, i’m doing fine. anyway, i really should stop typing and get back to work on venqua week, sooo... bye! X3

[chocoluckchipz]

The Other You - 8

Read it on A03, FF.net, WattPad

< Previous

Before he was cursed with the sinking ship of his father’s company, Adrien loved to sleep in on the weekends. Now, he was lucky to get even half of what he’d usually slept, considering that in addition to his work at Gabriel, it was also the end of the spring semester at his school and the workload was overwhelming. Just a little longer, though, and he’d be free to focus on his ‘help Marinette and finally atone for your sins’ mission full-time. Adrien could hardly wait, which was a little weird considering how much stuff he’d have to learn and do to make that happen.

“What are you grinning about?” Plagg yawned, floating out of his bed-bucket.

Adrien stretched. “Nothing in particular. Just that things are finally starting to look brighter.”

“Lying to your girlfriend to get food out of her is bright?” Plagg scoffed, flying away to the kitchen.

“I haven’t told a single lie, and she isn’t my girlfriend.”

“You kissed her, and you liked it.”

“Can you let it go, Plagg?  We’ve talked about this. It wasn’t—”

“Man, she’s going to hate you even more when she finds out who exactly was kissing her.”

Adrien glared at the pesky creature. “That’s why we aren’t telling her, Plagg.”

“She’ll find out eventually,” the kwami shrugged, stuffing his mouth with his morning dose of Camembert. “Better get ready for it instead of denying the obvious.”

With a growl, Adrien flopped back into his sheets. Pushing Plagg’s words aside, he closed his eyes, trying to focus on his schedule for today. First work, then lunch with Nino, and then… more work. He couldn’t afford to have his weekends off anymore.

“Oh, I know,” Plagg mumbled, finishing his wheel of cheese. “Your high school crush on Princess is coming back. That’s why you’re making dumb decisions—"

“I did not have a crush on Marinette,” Adrien said, sitting up. “I’ve always loved Ladybug.”

“Sure,” Plagg smirked. “Keep telling yourself that.”

“That’s the truth.”

“That’s bullshit, and you know it,” Plagg countered, his arms on his hips. “You could afford all the croissants in the world, yet you kept abusing your powers and going to her balcony for treats.”

“That’s because her pastries were amazing, and Marinette was a great company. But that doesn’t mean I had a crush on her.”

“Sure. That’s why you tried to spend as much time as possible with her. And not as Chat only, but as Adrien as well. Ugh! All those blushes and cutesy stuff.” Plagg shivered. “Disgusting.”

“It wasn’t like that, Plagg. We were just friends.”

“And don’t get me started on this whole ‘helping her’ business,” the kwami continued to grumble. “I told you it was insane even then, didn’t I? But no! You had to risk everything for her. Look where it got you. And how did she thank you? She took your heart and trampled it under her feet.”

Adrien fell silent.

“That’s why you didn’t try hard enough to reach out after they cut you off. It wasn’t only your pride that got bruised. Your heart got broken as well.”

“You can think whatever you want,” Adrien mumbled quietly, getting out of bed. “But having a close friend doesn’t mean I have a crush on her. My heart has always belonged to Ladybug.”

Plagg groaned in exasperation and flew off. Adrien went about his morning routine, pushing aside Plagg’s ridiculous claims and letting his thoughts race back to Nino. The prospect of meeting with his former best friend left him confused at best. Thrilled? Not exactly. More like nervous? Anxious? But nevertheless, kind of glad because the rejection and the refusal to let him at least explain himself still stung. Adrien spent years being bitter and resentful about that and had a lot to say. And today he was going to say everything because he didn’t really care about the way this meeting would go. He wasn’t looking to renew the friendship. An explanation, closure and the strength to move on: that was all Adrien wanted.

The day went by tortuously slowly. Hiring a new assistant for Marinette was Adrien’s top priority, but it was proving to be rather difficult. She needed someone highly experienced at this point and not a lot of qualified people wanted to work with a seemingly doomed company Gabriel had become. Scratch “a lot”. “None” would fit better. And to change that would require a ton of work, the size of Adrien was only now starting to realize. He did his best, but even he had his limits and needed breaks to stay sane. That was why, as soon as the clock struck a quarter to noon, Adrien zoomed out of his office and almost sprinted to a nearby café. Five minutes early, he wasn’t surprised to see Nino already there. His former best friend was always one to be on time.

Adrien halted his steps. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. He should have refused. Surely, he can help Marinette without Nino. No need to rip the old wounds open and let them bleed unnecessarily.

Before he could change his mind though, Nino stood up, looking his way. Awkwardly, the pair watched each other for a few moments from a distance until Nino motioned Adrien to sit at his table.

“Do you want small talk, or we could just—”

“Let’s skip it,” Adrien shrugged, settling in the chair.

“Straight to the issue?”

“Why not?”

“I’m all for it.”

“Me too.”

“Would you like to order?” a waiter interrupted.

Both men nodded in unison and took their time placing orders. After the waiter left, no one rushed to break the silence.

“So,” Nino finally gave in. “If we aren’t holding back and telling as it is… I still think you acted like a jerk, but I do owe you an apology because your intuition was right. Working with your father did ruin Marinette’s life. And that…” Nino inhaled deeply, “might actually be an understatement.”

Adrien sighed. “I saw tragedies happen too many times to do nothing. People had nervous breakdowns over a stupid deadline that was set a few days earlier than the actual one anyway. Or over an outfit that was added to the collection at the last minute and the fabric had to be personally flown in from Tibet. Many were doing the work of two or three on a tight schedule because their assistants couldn’t take it anymore and quit. So, just thinking that one of my closest friends could end up in that place… I couldn’t let that happen to her.” Adrien paused, his eyes focusing on the napkin he fidgeted with. “I only tried to protect her from that hell. Nothing else.”

“I can see now why you wanted her away from Gabriel, but you could’ve gone about it a different way, one that didn’t involve sneaking behind her back.”

Adrien nodded. “That’s on me. I should’ve done it differently. But you should've let me explain instead of cutting me off without warning.”

“What are you talking about?” Nino quirked an eyebrow. “You were the one who didn't want anything to do with us.”

“If by me trying to reach you for weeks, begging to let me explain and apologize is what you consider—”

“Let me stop you right there,” Nino interrupted, raising his hand. “What weeks are we talking about here? You sent us a single message in the chatroom that same day before quitting it, and in it, you spelled quite clearly that you had neither desire nor time for such ‘crappy friends’ as us anymore because apparently we neither did nor could understand and support you. Why do you think I never contacted you in all those years? Yes, I was angry with you, but all I needed was time to chill down and think. I would’ve reached out for that explanation eventually. You were my best bud, Adrien. I would’ve never just cut you off like I did unless you wanted that. Unless you asked me to do that, ‘lest I accidentally stumble upon an unwelcome reminder’ if I didn’t block you on all platforms.”

Adrien stared at Nino in confusion. “What are you talking about? I never sent any of you anything like that. I never quit the chatroom. You kicked me out. The three of you were my best friends, and you know how few of those I had. Why on Earth would I ask you to cut me off?”

“Your food, gentlemen.” The waiter placed plates before the men, giving Nino time to reach for his cell phone, open it on a particular screen and pass it to Adrien.

“Take a read for yourself. I’m sure you remember this. No one but the four of us had access to this chatroom, and the message is clearly sent from your account, following the notification that you left the chat.”

Adrien froze, his eyebrows slowly knitting into a frown as he read the words on the screen. Once done, he blankly stared at the device for a few moments before leaning back into his seat. “I didn’t write this. I didn't leave on my own. There has to have been a mistake.”

“Like what? Someone hacked you?”

“I can’t really say,” Adrien frowned. “From my end, I was just kicked out of the chat and blocked everywhere that same evening. Though, I hadn't discovered it until a bit later since I thought giving you time to calm down was a good idea.”

“So you knew we blocked you and still claim you were trying to reach out?”

“I hoped that at least one of you would unblock me eventually and I’d be able to explain.”

Nino huffed. “Why didn't you just seek us out in person?”

“I was busy moving out and working, and Chloe said if you didn't want to talk to me online, you wouldn't want to see me in person.”

Nino raised an eyebrow. “Chloe?”

Adrien shrugged, looking away. “No one else was around to give me advice, and it’s not like she sounded unreasonable.”

They fell in silence for a moment. Nino picked up his fork and started to eat, Adrien following his suit. A few minutes later, Nino asked, “Ever left your phone around her unattended?”

His thoughts rushing back to the past, Adrien nodded. “Never had a reason not to trust her that much.”

“Does she, by any chance, know your password?”

Adrien shrugged. “I never personally gave it to her, but it's not like I hid it either.”

Nino waited until he finished chewing his next bite to comment. “We both know Chloe is capable of sending those messages and quitting the chat on your behalf. She never liked us being friends, and it was awfully out of character of you.”

“That’s a valid possibility.”

Nino focused on his meal for a few more moments before asking, “ You swear you didn’t send those?”

Adrien leaned backwards in his seat. “On my mother’s name.”

Sighing heavily, Nino closed his eyes. “This is so messed up. This whole situation is just… so messed up. And what do we do now?”

"I don’t know," Adrien murmured, looking to the side.

“I guess I owe you another apology.” Nino cleared his throat. “I won’t apologize for getting angry at you. For the way you went about the whole Marinette thing, you deserved it. However, I am sorry for believing you could have sent that message and cutting you off without giving you a chance to defend yourself. I should’ve known you better than that.”

“Fair enough,” Adrien replied. “I do admit I could’ve used a better way to protect Marinette, and I guess I should’ve tried harder to reach out too, instead of assuming you abandoned me at the first opportunity. I’m sorry as well.”

“I appreciate it.” Nino shifted in his chair, picking up his coffee mug. “So, what next?”

Adrien rubbed the back of his neck, leaning back in his seat. “I don’t know? Maybe, let’s start with why you contacted me all of the sudden after all those years? I assume you need info on Marinette?”

“I did, but it doesn’t matter anymore.” Nino shrugged. “Alya’s finally gotten through to her, and they’re having lunch as we speak.”

“So technically we didn’t have to meet?”

“Technically no. But since you already agreed to come, I wanted…” he paused to muse for a second before giving Adrien a shy smile. “Actually, I'm not sure what I wanted, but I was curious to see you again.”

“I hope your curiosity was satisfied?”

“My curiosity is wondering why you look so exhausted on Saturday afternoon?”

“Got a little more than I can handle on my plate at the moment.”

Nino hesitated but still asked, “Need some help?”

“I wish you could help me,” Adrien chuckled. “Thank you, but unless you know how to run a fashion empire, I don't think that's a viable option.”

“I am a quick learner. Just tell me what you need me to do.”

Adrien swallowed. He hadn't been looking for a renewal of their friendship when he was coming here, but… Sitting here, talking to Nino again after all these years, seeing how little he had changed, how caring and understanding and just cool Nino still was… Adrien wondered. “I can always use a friend. I still don’t have many of those… If you want to of course.”

Nino smiled. “Even after everything?”

“I don't think I ever got over you,” Adrien dramatically sighed.

Nino chuckled. “You’re too kind for this world, Adrien. I hope you know that.”

“I did have a friend who used to tell me that all the time. Without him in my life, I haven't heard this in years.”

“I can fill his shoes again if you’re really sure about this.”

“I’m not delusional to think this would be easy. Rebuilding something is bound to have its own issues, especially in our situation.”

“But we can always try.”

“We can.”

Nino stretched his hand to Adrien. “I missed you, bro.”

A smile on his face, Adrien accepted the handshake. “I miss you too, Nino.”

***

With his unexpectedly successful lunch the previous day on his mind, Adrien wanted nothing less than to spend his Sunday visiting the mansion. He’d stalled as much as he could, shopping for groceries, doing his laundry, and even visiting work for half a day. Once the evening drew near, though, he couldn’t excuse himself anymore. An hour’s walk along the Seine helped Adrien come to grips with what he had to do, and soon, he was standing in front of the house he once called home.

“If you don’t want to do it, don’t do it,” Plagg grumbled from his collar.

“I promised Marinette. I have to.”

“Then do it and stop whining.”

Adrien groaned. “You aren’t any help, Plagg.”

“Being helpful isn’t in my job description,” Plagg muttered and relocated to Adrien’s bag. “Wake me up when you’re done standing around, pointlessly staring at the front door.”

Adrien’s shoulders slumped as he sighed dejectedly. Fishing the key out of his pocket, he forced himself to open the door before he could change his mind.

He hadn’t visited ever since he moved out. When his father was alive, it was out of the question. They never reconciled. And after Gabriel's death, his lawyer handled all the necessary procedures without the younger Agreste having to take a single step inside the mansion. It would be put up for sale soon, but for now, Gabriel's possessions were still untouched in the places he’d left them.

Adrien quickly walked through the empty, cold hallway to his father’s office. It hadn’t changed at all: minimalist furnishing, clean design, barren of any comfort and warmth. He paused at his mother’s portrait, making a note to claim it for himself. It was a beautiful piece. His sight shifted to his father’s desk. A few folders and a couple of random things lying atop it. A dead plant in the corner right behind.

Adrien sat in his father’s chair and looked through the folders. None of them were what Marinette needed. He reached for a drawer in the table. Inside were more folders and a slim white box. Pushing the box out of the way, Adrien took the folders out. To his relief, three of those were exactly what he came here for.

“Perfect.” Adrien exhaled and tried to shove the remaining folders back into the drawer. Something was obstructing them. He reached in and pulled the white box out. It was nothing unique, really. A regular box his Father used for his jewelry collection… Yet, even after the files were back in their place, Adrien couldn’t take his eyes off it. Something about the box was just so enigmatic. Something drew him in. Something he couldn’t explain.

He carefully took the lid off.

A bright electric orb exploded in front of him, and a little purple kwami with wings emerged. At first, its eyes were lowered to the floor, but once the creature looked up they widened, mouth falling open.

“Ma-Master?”

“Nooroo! Old pal!” Plagg zoomed out from Adrien’s bag and crushed the little guy in his embrace. “So that’s where you were hiding all this time?”

“Plagg?” Nooroo squeaked.

“Nooroo?” Adrien echoed.

“Yup, my old pal, Nooroo,” Plagg punched the purple kwami’s shoulder. “Hawkmoth’s kwami.”

Adrien sharply inhaled.

Nooroo looked at him and quietly asked, “Where is my Master?”

Adrien could hardly breathe. “What’s the name of your Master?”

"We can't say the names of our wielders to others,” Plagg answered instead. “Some magic stuff I don’t really care about.”

“Can you point to his picture?” Adrien whispered, staring at Nooroo in shock, dreading to hear the answer he suspected he already knew.

Nooroo nodded and stretched his tiny hand in the direction of their family portrait. “The older man,” the kwami said quietly as the world shuddered beneath Adrien’s feet.

Next >

[ladybugsfanfics]

(red flags look like normal flags when you’re wearing) rose-tinted glasses

pairing: Tom Hiddleston x platonic!reader

style: one shot

WC: 2.7k

summary: requested by anonymous on tumblr: “Reader is small and have an Danish Dog, thats actually an giant drool dog. While she's taking the dog to the park he start running with Bob while on the tab and he keeps pulling her until Tom saves her. Then Bobby start growling at her, and they think that is bcs he's jealous...”

warnings: angst, ABUSIVE RELATIONSHIPS, ABUSE, PHYSICAL ABUSE, EMOTIONAL ABUSE, ANIMAL ABUSE, please note the abuse, this fic contains it

A/N: this was really hard to write and i want it to be clear that ive never been in an abusive relationship so ive done my best to portray it and how hard it is to break out of it, but i dont have firsthand information. please let me know if something seems unrealistic or weird. i want you all to know that there are explicit abuse, but that it's not very violent but it still has an emotional impact. please don't read if you know it won't be good for you, and there is a happy ending even tho ive made the relationship between reader and tom platonic (that's more for realistic purposes).

The tall man startles as the bark sounds through the park. You widen your eyes at the sight of the little brown the male walks with. 

No, no, no , you think. 

Your dog, or actually your boyfriend’s dog, is rather big. The giant of a dog also barks whenever he sees brown dogs (as if the dog can be racist, honestly you have no idea how it works, but there are many things that can be the reason), and the dog that man walks with―  

You don’t want to think about it. 

Nor do you get the chance as your tight grip on the leash seems to be your downfall. The dog has almost leapt into the air as the barks rip through the quiet silence of the park. 

“Yoshi! Stop!” you yell, but to no avail. He keeps running, stronger than you even as you put your heels down on the ground and try to brake. 

The tall male has turned around. You send him a pleading look as your dog, almost literally, attacks his little one. In the sudden change of speed, where Yoshi goes from running and barking to hopping around and barking, you trip over your own feet and find yourself on your way to face planting with the ground below. 

A pair of strong arms around your hips keep you from falling and you’re put back up on your feet with your back pressed to a muscular chest. As you regain your balance, the arms fall away. They don’t go far, only to grip the leash of your dog in an attempt to help your arm not dislocate. 

“Thank you,” you say as you crouch down to keep Yoshi under control. He’s stopped barking, and with your soft strokes along his neck, he stops hopping, too. 

“You’re welcome,” replies your saviour. 

Standing up, you find a handsome male looking at you. Curly ginger hair, the most reassuring smile you have ever seen, and gentle blue-green eyes that makes you feel at ease. The way his eyes trace over you make you drag down the sleeve of your jacket slightly, and then you return his smile to the best of your abilities. 

“He can be a little unruly at times, I’m so sorry.” You press your lips together in a tight lipped smile, shaking your head to let your hair come back to the front and cover your neck where your scarf fails. “I think something might’ve happened when he was a puppy because he only reacts to brown dogs.”

The stranger’s smile crinkles his eyes and he lets out a slight chuckle. Your heart beats faster at the sound. You will it to shut up. “Don’t worry about it,” he says. “I’m Tom, by the way.”

“I’m Y/N.” You swallow the lump in your throat. Throat dry and heart steadily beating faster, the pounding like a drum inside your head. “I’m sorry, again. For the whole… thing. But I should get going now.” 

With a little tug of Yoshi’s leash you turn to continue down the path you were headed. A wait from Tom has you turn back around. He steps closer to you, tugging with him his own dog that so far seems rather docile and that you find super cute. 

“Could I possibly get your number?” he asks. 

If your heart hadn’t already lodged itself in your throat from talking to him, it definitely shot there now. With a steady breath (as steady as you can) you nod. “Yeah, sure.” And you take the phone Tom hands you. 

It takes no time typing in your number, but you nearly drop the phone when Tom’s dog starts barking at you. Big dog eyes that look at you, nose high in the air and the barking growing steadily louder as he continues.

Tom frowns at his dog as he accepts his phone. He shakes his head and tugs at the leash, telling ‘Bobby’ to quiet and that there’s nothing to bark about. “I’m sorry,” he says. “He’s probably a little jealous.”

You try for a smile and a soft laugh but it comes out more strained. “Yes, jealous. Makes sense, I guess.” With a deep sigh, you turn to look at Tom again. “Again, so sorry. I guess I’ll hear from you. Bye.”

And now you leave with Yoshi in tow before Tom can stop you. 

You wonder what he’ll do if he finds out you won’t answer his messages. Wonder if he’ll do the same as your boyfriend does whenever you forget to answer or don’t do something as he wants. 

After all, fear was the only reason you did give Tom your phone number. That reassuring smile fools no one, and those gentle eyes are the same gentle ones he uses in front of others. 

Sorry, Tom, but I won’t exchange him for someone worse . Even if I might deserve it . 

 ---

The door is unlocked when you get home. The shoe rack kicked over and the few sets of jackets that hung in the closet have found their way to the floor. Your heart stops beating as fear settles in your gut. 

This is never good, but neither is cleaning it up before he allows you to, so you kick off your own shoes and let your jacket fall to the floor instead of hanging it up. You unclasp Yoshi’s leash and let him pad into the living room and greet his owner. 

Clenching your eyes shut, you regret letting the dog go in before you. The whimper has tears forming in your eyes. You will them back. You can’t cry. Crying just leads to a worse… you don’t know exactly what to call it. 

“Babe?” you call as you take the steps in after the dog. 

Your boyfriend’s rage filled face meets you. He’s locked the dog in its too small cage, and he hits Yoshi on the snout rather hard as the dog lets out another whimper. 

“Babe, huh?” The retort has your gut churn, nervousness courses through your veins. “What the fuck took you so long?!”

There goes the level voice. You keep from closing your eyes, embracing for impact. He likes it more when you face him head on, as if it’s some kind of challenge. Pressing your lips closed, you let your eyes wander over his face. 

You note the down-tug of his lips, the anger boiling like a hot fire in his eyes, and the flare of his nose as his form towers over you. “Bitch, I asked you a fucking question! What the fuck took you so long?!”

“Yo-Yoshi saw a… a dog. I-I couldn’t hold him back and we-we went on a detour.” God, you sound weak. I am weak , you think, too weak . 

“Couldn’t hold him back, my ass.” He takes a step closer to you. Your body moves on its own when it takes a step back. It continues until your back collides with the wall and he locks you in. “Give me your phone!”

You fish your phone out of your pocket and pray to God Tom hasn’t texted you. You haven’t gotten the chance to block his number yet and if he has texted you, well, life for the next three days will be even worse than usual. You’d deserve it, too, probably.

Fear the only thing holding your body up, you hold your breath as he checks. First when he throws it away with a silent grunt and it lands on the couch, and he doesn’t yell, do you let yourself breathe again. 

“Fucking good for you there was nothing there.” His voice is a rough whisper, hoarse and with an underlying tone of want. He doesn’t say more before he presses his lips to yours, pinning your arms to the wall and pressing your head against it. 

When one of his hands falls to your hip, pressing you close to him, pressing you close to the growing bulge in his pants, you know it’ll bruise. Just like you know the grip on your wrist will bruise and that you won’t be able to walk in the next twenty four to thirty six hours. 

You know because that’s how it always is. 

How it always has been. 

 ---

[07.47] Unknown number Hi, this is Tom. I didn’t have time to send a text yesterday, but I still wanted to tell you that I would like to meet you again. Hope that’s possible. - Tom

[08.29] Unknown number I know you haven’t replied yet, and it’s probably because you have yet to wake up, but when you do, would you be up for a cup of coffee? Either lunch or breakfast, whatever sounds best for you? - Tom

[11.32] you Hi, Tom. This is Y/N. Very sorry, but I can’t meet with you. I have plans all week and the next months. Work is taking my time, so is having a boyfriend and friends. Very sorry about my dog, again, but thank you for saving me from the ground. Have a lovely life.

🛇 Blocked

To move this conversation out of Archived and get messages again, unblock xxxxx-xxxxx 

 Unblock

---

You’re unsure what it is that has you think the thought. It pops up from nowhere, really, but it still sounds… reasonable. 

With aching moves, you pack your things. A suitcase is more than enough for everything you own (your boyfriend keeping your hobbies to a fair minimum), and everything for Yoshi.

As you pack the bare essentials, your body shakes. Every few pieces of clothing thrown into the suitcase lands outside on the floor and your heart hammers in your chest. In the bathroom, finding your toothbrush, you hear a noise from the hallway and your heart shoots into your chest. Rushing out and to the living room, you only find Yoshi with one of his toys. 

Tears prick at the back of your eyes. Fear an ever lurking presence. Putting the leash on Yoshi, you hope he isn’t close. You fumble with the clasp and use far longer than you would have liked to put it on, but thankfully, the dog’s big eyes and somewhat smile and the wagging of his tail, helps put you at ease. 

His work day still has three more hours, meaning he won’t be here for another four. That should be enough time, right? More than enough time…

You leave the door unlocked, having left the key to the apartment on the kitchen counter. If anyone robs it… you fear the repercussions, but by the time he comes home, he shouldn’t be able to find you. 

Even as you walk with Yoshi and the suitcase down the street, finding a taxi and asking him to take you to the police station, you don’t know what has settled in you. You don’t know where this is coming from. This… courage.

You’re unsure whether it was the show you saw last night where the relationship between the two romantic leads, even when they were alone, never had any hitting or bruising or anger in the same way he shows. Or if it was Tom, and the way his face still sits at the back of your mind. How you’d compared his gentle eyes and reassuring smile to his fake mask in front of others. 

Has it really taken you so long to see the difference? To see that Tom’s, despite how instilled with fear you were, actually showed genuine compassion and care, and his is always with an extra layer that it takes a lot of study to see (but what else do you use your time on when you can’t look at others when you’re out?). 

You pay the cab driver as he drops you off and you find your way into the police station. It takes a long half hour before you walk out again and sit down on the curb. It takes another three hours to stop crying and shaking. In those three hours, Yoshi lies his head in your lap and lets the weight of him being close reassure you. A man who tries to help and ask what’s wrong is quickly barked away by the dog guarding you. 

It warms your heart.  

A police officer on her way home asks you what’s wrong, and, as you don’t tell, she tells you to contact someone. She also leads you into the waiting room and tells you to sit there until you find help, even if help doesn’t come from the police. In the hour you sit there, you delete the find my phone app and you block him and everyone associated with him on everything you can remember you share. You wish you’d done it sooner. 

In your phone, you’re left with few options. 

The unblock button is easy to press. The text is everything but easy to send. Your fingers shake as you type, and there are countless spelling mistakes. Finding them all takes a few minutes, and even after telling yourself you’ll send it, your finger hovers over the send button. 

Exactly seven minutes and thirty-eight seconds later (you counted), your finger falls down and you press the send button. Watching it turn blue has your heart beat faster and faster, and you press back the tears pricking at your eyes. Swallowing hurts as your throat is unbearably dry. 

The reply comes a lot faster than you would expect, and it helps ease some of the fear lodged in your body. The tears that fall now are a mixture of relief and fear, and Yoshi lying his head down in your lap again helps you regain your composure. 

Tom picks you and Yoshi up at the police station half an hour later. He offers up his guest bedroom, but you refuse, saying you’ll stay at a hotel until you can find something. You don’t refuse his offer of going somewhere to talk over a cup of coffee.

He helps you find a hotel that allows dogs, helps you check in (unlisted) and joins you for a walk with Yoshi before you find a quiet cafe to sit down at. You sit outside, Yoshi quiet by your feet, but regarding everyone who passes by with a steady look. Being a big dog, you see more than one person a little frightened. It warms your heart.

And the coffee in front of you warms your hands. 

“Thank you, Tom,” you say, after the silence becomes too much. “I haven’t told you anything about why but you’re still willing to help. Thank you.”

Tom smiles. One of his hands leaves his cup and when it comes close to yours, you instinctively flinch―though you don’t move it (that has never gone over well in the past). Tom’s hand hovers over yours and his eyes study you as his brows crease into a frown. Your heart pounds in your chest. “I won’t ask, but I hope I can help. However you need.”

Taking a deep breath, you bite your lower lip and look down at your hands. Both now clench around your coffee cup. The steam rises in the cool air and the smell stirs something in your gut, something that has tears prick at the back of your eyes. You let your hearts incessant pounding die down before you look up Tom. 

“I could use a friend,” you say, eventually. The smile you try to show is crooked and unsure, and you know the fright is visible through it. 

Tom still smiles. His eyes are gentle and reassuring, and it warms you that there actually does exist someone who doesn’t raise his voice at weakness and vulnerability. Someone who wants to help, and who doesn’t demand answers. 

You could use a friend. A friend who lets you find your own way and lets you take your time. 

“Anything you need, Y/N,” replies Tom. “Time, space, money, a hug, a friend . Anything.”

This time, when you smile, it crinkles by your eyes. It’s still crooked and unsure, but most of the fright is gone. 

You’ve finally taken off the rose-tinted glasses.

A/N: you’ve reached the end so please let me know that you’re alright, i care!

permanent tags:  @devilbat @adefectivedetective @gamillian @he-is-chaotic-she-is-psychotic @heartislubbingdubbing @wiczer @chillcan @geeksareunique @fandom-imagines1 @murdermornings

tom tags:  @inlovewith3 @bookgirlunicorn​ @mindlesschicca​ @justawriterinprogress​ @wolfsmom1 @loser-alert​ @satanskatze​ @timetravelingsociopathicwalker

[katierosefun]

known

The events of Lawless, only Satine lives. But at a cost.

**for Obitine Week 2020, Day 2: Role Swap 

wc: 2215 

read on ao3 | read on ff 

Satine’s knees had long gone numb since the Death Watch had dragged her into the throne room, but she didn’t particularly care, not as she stared up at that wretch who sat on her throne. At Obi-Wan kneeling a little ways from it, his face shadowed and interrupted by bruises and small cuts. Satine had just barely repressed her own cry when some of the Death Watch members had thrown Obi-Wan as though he were a sack of bones.

But Obi-Wan had lifted his head to Satine, and though pain had glazed his eyes, they remained steady. Don’t, he seemed to say, and Satine had wanted nothing more than to tear out of the grip of the men who gripped her shoulders and run to Obi-Wan, drag them both out of the palace as they had come so close to doing just a few minutes ago.

Now, Maul pushed himself off the throne and settled down in front of Obi-Wan, an ugly leer stretched across his face. “A bold attempt,” he drawled, lifting Obi-Wan’s chin with a gloved hand. “But did you truly think you would get the Duchess and yourself out of this palace without my knowing?”

“Well,” Obi-Wan said, and Satine didn’t know whether to feel relieved or not how even in pain, his voice still remained light. “I was able to get into this palace without your knowing, wasn’t I?”

Satine sucked in a breath, waiting for that monster to do something, but Maul only smiled. It was the worst thing that Satine had ever seen: a chill, gradual smile that would have sent the average person tumbling back, but Obi-Wan remained steady, his expression solid as Maul stood back up.

“I could kill you right now,” Maul said, growing to his full height. He circled around Obi-Wan, those yellow eyes of his trained on him. “Or,” he said, and in a flash, Satine felt something cold wrap around her throat, and then she was being lifted in the air—and suddenly she couldn’t breathe. She clawed her hands up for her throat, trying to find some way to unblock the passage of air, her mouth opening and closing, desperately trying to suck in whatever breath she could find—

“Or,” Maul said, his voice a low chill, “I could kill her first.”

There was movement out of the corner of Satine’s eye, and when she managed to look down, she found Obi-Wan on his feet, rage flickering across his face. “It’s me you want,” he said, his voice low, even. “Let her be.”

Satine felt that grip on her throat tighten, and for a brief moment, she wondered if this was really how she was going to meet her own end—if she really was going to die right here. She met those thoughts with some quiet reluctance, but at the same time, looking down at Obi-Wan’s stormy eyes, she was met with a small stab of sadness. She would have liked to see him away from this place first.

But then the hold on her throat loosened, and Satine crashed to the ground, pain splintering up her limbs as she collided on the cold floor.

She gasped for breath, coughing, wheezing as air filled her lungs once more. She heard rapid footsteps, a few shouts, and then Maul’s quiet, “No—let him.”

And then Satine felt hands on her face, brushing back her hair, flitting past her chin, her cheeks. She managed to lift her head and found Obi-Wan, his eyes wide and pained, and then relieved—a tentative, choked kind of relief—as she said, “I’m alright.”

She wanted to reach up to his face, rest a hand against his cheek and drag him close, rest her forehead against his and shield themselves from the horror of the throne room then—she wanted nothing more than to hide themselves and wait until all of this had come to pass, but she heard the march of footsteps getting closer, and then Obi-Wan was suddenly ripped away from her, leaving nothing but cold and empty air.

Satine watched helplessly as Maul tossed Obi-Wan to the ground, the sound of a body meeting marble filling the throne room with a sickeningly loud thud and crack. A soft groan left Obi-Wan’s lips, but he rolled over to his side, staggered up to his feet as Maul circled him.

“Consider yourself lucky for that brief reprieve, Master Jedi,” Maul crooned. “Because I promise you…” Flashes of red light, and then Maul was twirling his lightsaber around his hands with that ugly sneer of his. “There will be no more.”

Obi-Wan only smiled grimly. “Good thing I don’t believe in luck, then,” he said.

That was all it took.

And then Maul lunged for Obi-Wan, his lightsaber flashing, unyielding, unforgiving. Obi-Wan dodged out of the way, and then he extended a hand—there was a soft click, and then the lightsaber hanging at Maul’s side came free.

Satine watched as Obi-Wan just barely activated his lightsaber in time to meet Maul’s. Their blades met in a clash of red and blue light, and then a blinding white as they pressed against each other—Maul’s face glowing with rage, Obi-Wan’s glowing with a cold determination.

Satine looked around the throne room, at the Death Watch still stationed around the throne room. Her mind raced for some idea of how to disrupt the duel—if she could at least leash one of the blasters at one of the members’ sides, then she could—

The thought of letting loose any violence still chilled Satine to her very core, but the noisy clashes of lightsaber against lightsaber, the hatred radiating off Maul—

Satine knew that this Maul wasn’t going to end the duel until he won.

Satine snuck a glance at the weapon dangling from the Death Watch member standing closest to her. She could make a quick lunge for it, and then—what? She could kick out his legs, hopefully give him enough of a surprise and enough disorientation for herself to get a handle on the situation.

But before Satine could think of any other way to execute her little plan, there was a sudden jab at her shoulders.

“Eyes front,” the Death Watch member behind her barked.

Satine swung her gaze back around, her core tightening as she felt the nudge of a blaster at the back of her skull. She didn’t need to hear any more warnings to know what any more movement from herself might mean. A part of her raged and raged, looked blindly for some other way out, but that blaster at the back of her head kept her eyes trained on the fight still going on in front of her.

Obi-Wan met Maul blow for blow, his face tightening with each impact of their weapons clashing against each other. Maul growled something that Satine couldn’t make out, but she knew it was bad enough that Obi-Wan’s entire body seemed to clench, and then, in a burst of sheer power, Obi-Wan had shoved Maul back with a twist of his saber and a wave of his hand.

The wall Maul hit grumbled on impact, but then Maul rolled up to his feet, breathing hard and absolute murder in his eyes.

“You’re getting angry, Kenobi,” Maul crowed, twisting his saber in his hands. “You can feel it too, can’t you?”

“And you must be getting nervous,” Obi-Wan replied, breathing equally as hard. “If you’re suddenly talkative.”

There was pure hatred in Maul’s eyes as he lunged for Obi-Wan again, his lightsaber nothing more than an angry blur of red before it collided against Obi-Wan’s blue. Despite the danger, Satine felt herself leaning forward, her lips moving in silent prayer as Obi-Wan skidded back at Maul’s sudden push against him.

Please, Satine thought. She didn’t believe in miracles, nor did she believe in luck—but please, just this once—just this once, let them be able to get out of this mess in one piece. She caught Obi-Wan’s eye, saw the sudden renewal of strength in his face before he blocked another one of Maul’s strikes.

Please, Satine thought again. Please, just this once.

Obi-Wan struck at Maul, drove their lightsabers down to the ground, left behind a smoking mark of molten stone before their sabers were back up in the air, bracing against each other. There was one second, two seconds, before Obi-Wan’s foot suddenly shot out, kicked against Maul’s abdomen.

Maul staggered backward with a grunt, and then, regaining his balance, he dove at Obi-Wan once again—only this time, one hand was free, and before she could stop herself, a shout left Satine’s lips as Maul slammed Obi-Wan against the wall. Obi-Wan struggled under the invisible grip, his legs kicking as Maul held him there—pinned, helpless—

Satine didn’t care if there was a blaster to her head. She ducked forward, slipped off her boot—

And it would have been funny if she hadn’t been so terrified—

But she threw her boot against Maul’s head.

That was enough to break Maul’s concentration, and Satine only just let out a breath of relief as Obi-Wan slid back to the ground—before Maul was suddenly swinging his gaze to her, his wrathful gaze unfaltering as he pulled his lips back into a snarl.

“Perhaps,” he hissed, striding towards her in two powerful steps, “it was a mistake to leave you alive.”

Satine couldn’t even cry out as Maul lifted his saber over his head, aimed right for her chest, and then—

Obi-Wan was suddenly at her side again, his saber close enough that Satine could feel its heat as he pushed away Maul’s blow. Obi-Wan’s face was an unbreakable mask, his eyes lit by the glow of his saber as he said in a dangerously low voice, “I thought we agreed that it was only me you wanted.”

“Ever the negotiator,” Maul snarled, pressing close. “But not quite.”

And then Maul was twisting the lightsaber away from Obi-Wan, too quickly, too quickly—and then Obi-Wan’s lightsaber was twisted out of his grip. Maul let out a growl, his lightsaber aimed for Obi-Wan’s chest, but at the last second, he dove out of the way. Rolled over to his fallen lightsaber, held it up over his head as Maul came crashing down on him.

Satine watched as Obi-Wan staggered under the crushing weight, propping himself up only by his knees as Maul leaned closer, closer.

Satine’s chest tightened. He was stuck in a too vulnerable position, that much she knew. He couldn’t get out, not like that—

And then Obi-Wan flicked his eyes to Satine.

And then, as though in slow motion, Obi-Wan smiled. A gentle, sad smile that Satine only had a moment to process before Obi-Wan dropped his saber from Maul’s and drove it right into Maul’s abdomen—just as Maul’s saber drove into Obi-Wan’s chest.

--

Satine didn’t recognize the strangled, stuttered cry that left her lips as Obi-Wan dropped back to the ground, the strength already leeching from his body, his face as his lightsaber rolled out of his grip. She was dully aware of Maul falling backwards, his eyes already unseeing as his own lightsaber dropped from his hands. Later, she would realize that the Death Watch had scattered in a panic, leaving Maul’s body behind—

But right now, in this moment, Satine could only scramble for Obi-Wan, her hands shaking as she tugged him into her lap.

His eyes were still open, still fluttering as Satine brushed his hair out of his face, tried to even the trembling in her own voice as she whispered words that didn’t make sense to her own ears—just a rapid breaths that sounded vaguely like Obi-Wan’s name, like a heart breaking.

“Satine,” Obi-Wan breathed, and Satine managed to stop, just for that moment—for that one, brief moment—as she found Obi-Wan’s hand tangling into hers, their fingers helplessly twining around each other. His eyes—so stormy just a few minutes ago, were now clearer than Satine had ever seen them. Bright, shining like the sky that they had walked under years ago.

“I’m here,” Satine managed to say.

Obi-Wan smiled slowly. “I know,” he whispered. His voice was weak, soft. He brought their hands to his lips, the briefest brush of his mouth against her hand.

“I love you,” Satine said, her voice cracking. So please don’t go.

Obi-Wan seemed to hear her thoughts, because his smile turned sad. “I wish I…” he murmured, his eyes drifting up towards Satine’s face. His breaths were coming more rapidly now, but his eyes remained on Satine, his hand still entwined in hers. And then, his breath hitching, he breathed, “I wish I told you sooner.”

Satine’s throat closed. Something wet slid down her cheeks. Tears, she realized dully.

“Do you know?” Obi-Wan whispered, his face flashing with pain. “Do you—”

“Yes,” Satine whispered. She lowered her lips down to Obi-Wan’s forehead, closed her eyes as the rest of the tears slipped away, down her cheeks and into his hair. “I’ve always known.”

There was a sigh.

And when Satine pulled away, she found that Obi-Wan’s eyes were still trained on her—but not on her.

Satine closed his eyes.

And she wept.

[dxlansdarling]

not that easily | e.d

Summary: after a night stand in the middle of a break, things aren’t going as you have wanted. Remembering your words, with Grayson on your side; you will do the right thing.

Warnings: a little angst, but fluff. Some FRIENDS reference and spoiler?

Word count: 2932

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“I don’t want to be without you” he said “Not now, nor never”

You looked at the picture in your hands, and with a long sigh, you closed your eyes. Sitting on the steps of the house’s gallery, you regretted leaving your coat inside your house. November nights started to get colder and colder, and being outside at 3am, freezing to dead and a tear-stained face; you were going to get sick. But you couldn’t care less, not when your heart beat slowly and painfully against your chest.

“You think you would get rid of me that easily?”

It’s been months since the last time you saw him; two months if you wanted to be precisely. And still, you couldn’t forget that day. Both of you sitting on his bed, a bad luck on his shoulders and someone carrying a one-night-stand on her belly. No, he said he didn’t cheat on you. No, he wouldn’t do that to you.  But it felt like he did; the pregnancy test on his hands was enough to feel the heartbreak. She was four-months pregnant.

“And you think I would let you go that easily?” I mumbled, his lips caressing mine.

The both of you dated for long three years, and after a few stupid fights; you were on a break four months before that night. Yes, you felt like Rachel on Friends as he tried to explain he was drunk and didn’t know what he was doing. You knew about what happened as soon as that break ended, you knew about the one night stand, but you never thought it would end on a fucking baby. So, not only you were heartbroken at first; you had to do the right thing and leave.

She was from a really religious family that, as soon as they learned about what happened; the engagement came two weeks after you left. You could have stayed and fight for him? Yes, but you couldn’t do that to him, nor the baby. The little human needed a family, and if he fucked up, he needed to make up and do the right thing. You told yourself every night after leaving his house.

Trying to warm up you hugged yourself, shivers down your spine, and your eyes travelling to the magazine on your lap; you couldn’t help but bit the inside of your cheek on anger. Or jealously. Or regret. You didn’t know what you were feeling anymore, but it wasn’t the only thing you didn’t understand.

How funny it was when, out of nowhere, this girl appeared on his Instagram and all of his social media. Not only she was showing her growing belly -which was super small for someone who was six months pregnant- but she was also promoting their wedding. In less than forty-eight hours, she was going to be Mrs.Dolan. You didn’t want to think the worst, but something wasn’t right; and you weren’t the only one who thought that.

Grayson never lost contact with you. Even after weeks, he would still pick you up from your parent’s house and would go to an ice cream parlor to cheer you up. And mostly, on updating you on how things where and how he hated this new girl his brother had to date. Even if you agreed on everything he said, you still kept quiet and thought that you were doing the right thing. But, where you?

Speaking of him, you couldn’t help but smile down at your phone when it rang and a message appeared on your screen.

               Gray-Gray: plz tell me you’re awake.

 Your hands felt frozen as you typed back.

                 You: unluckily, yes.

                 Gray-Gray: we need to talk.

               Gray-Gray: like asap.

 Confused, and a little worried, you read his texts again. Was he on trouble?

                 You: r u okay?

               Gray-Gray: ill pick u up tomorrow afternoon.

               Gray-Gray: believe me, ill be okay as soon as we meet.

  -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

You rubbed your eyes as you stood outside of your house, this time smart enough to grab a big sweatshirt that belonged to him. It was the only thing that you wanted to keep from him and keep on using it. It didn’t help you look any better, if you were honest. You couldn’t sleep at all the night before, not only because the wedding date was coming closer and your heart was crashing a little bit more every minute; but because Grayson didn’t say anything more after those texts asking you to meet him. So you stayed up, with pain and curiosity.

When his car parked in front of you, as soon as you jumped in, you smacked the back of his head.

“Hey!” he groaned, fixing the beanie he had over his hair, “What was that for?”

“For worrying me and keeping me up confused” you replied, putting on the seatbelt when he sped up again, “So, what’s up?”

“It’s not Ethan’s child.”

You choked on your own saliva, feeling how your heart stopped the moment he spoke.

“What?” you blurted out, “What do you mean it’s not Ethan’s child? Of course it is!”

“It’s not, Y/N, listen,” he grabbed a few papers that were on the back seats and handed them to you, “I had my suspicious the moment everything happened, but couldn’t talk about it because it was all a disaster at the moment. No one needed me making more drama. Or asking for a few tests.”

“You didn´t’-” you started, but Grayson shrugged.

“I may have tricked her into going to a doctor –who’s a family’s friend- that convinced her to make a few tests to see if the baby was healthy,” he said, “She’s not six months pregnant; she’s three.”

Looking at the papers in your hand, you read the medical form and almost stopped breathing when you recognized what you had in your hands. Part of you felt relief, there was a little bit of hope, but the other part of you that still needed to do the right thing came up again. You looked over at Grayson again, the papers in your hands being not enough.

“Grayson, this is- it is not enough” you said, “this could be fake, anyone can write informs these days. What makes you believe that they would trust a piece of paper?”

Grayson laughed bitterly, and turning the car into a parking lot, he grabbed something from his jeans and you raised your eyebrows at the floral phone case.

“New case?” you joked.

“Not my phone,” He shot back and winked.

Your mouth opened widely.

“Are you fucking crazy, Grayson?! It’s her phone! It’s her privacy!” you almost yelled, “She will be looking for it, smart ass, and if she has the find my phone app-”

“Y/N, I swear to God, I will slap you if you try and take her side on this one” he spoke up, turning on his seat and looking at you, “I’m sure this bitc-woman is trying to get my brother into a marriage that it’s not fair and that he doesn’t want. Yes, you’re right, the papers aren’t enough, but this phone has the information we need to end this shit.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I saw her texting someone the other day, and not only I know her passcode after seeing her type it so many times,” he laughed, typing the passcode and unlocking the phone, “but I also learned that she has a contact blocked, and by the looks of it, it’s someone she wants to hide.”

He pressed on the blocked number, unblocking it, and when their conversation opened; you took the phone from Grayson’s hand and started reading the last discussion they had. It was the supposed baby daddy, and you felt like you could breathe again. You felt your heart bursting with hope, and as you looked at Grayson, you smiled.

“Does this mean-?” you stuttered. He nodded, a small smile on his cheeks.

“We can end this bullshit,” he confirmed, hands still on the wheel, “Also, this doctor that ran the tests, has done a paternal test. I knew my brother wasn’t stupid enough to not wrap it before he taps it.”

You blushed, “Well…”

“Spare me the fucking details!”

  -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 You sat on your room that night too, but it was different from the other nights. That night, you had hope. A lot of it. The part of you that wanted to do the right thing went flying out the window the moment you read the conversation this girl, Lola, had with her true baby daddy, Stephen. You had sent the conversation to your mail, not only via screen-shots, but the written one too. You wanted to have all the proofs you needed to get your man out of there.

You were short of time, the wedding being the next day and what stopped you from running into the twins’ house was that you needed one more proof. The test that Grayson talked about in the car wasn’t ready yet, and after he asked; everything got more complicated when the doctor answered that it was going to be ready the next morning. The same morning that bitch was going to say ‘I do’ to Ethan.

Thinking about him, you were sure that night was his bachelor party. Grayson told you after he left you on your house again, and for a few seconds, the pain came back. You never spoke nor asked about Ethan when you were with Grayson, the idea of him marrying someone else that wasn’t you made your stomach turn and almost throw up. You couldn’t bare that image.

After a nice dinner with your parents, you went to your bathroom so you could take a quick shower before going to bed. But as you were grabbing your clothes, your phone started ringing. Thinking it could be Grayson, you furrowed your eyebrows as you read the unknown number on the screen. You quickly put it on your ear as soon as you answered.

“Hello?”

“Y/N…”

You fell back on your bed, your knees wobbling and heart beating so fast you had to put a hand over it. Even after months without talking, you remembered perfectly his voice.

“Ethan…” you mumbled, more to yourself as you couldn’t still believe it.

“Oh baby, how I’ve missed your voice,” he slurred and you couldn’t help the feeling that bubbled on your chest. You missed his voice too, “and all of you. I miss you so much, do you miss me too?”

Like you have no idea, you thought.

“Where are you calling me from?” you wanted to know, “I never deleted your number.”

“I may or may not have stolen a phone from someone”, he mumbled, sounding like a child. “Lola blocked your number, and if she knew how many beers I’ve drank tonight, she would kill me. She’s crazy…”

You really don’t know how much.

“Drunk again, Dolan? Let me remind you what happened last time” you blurted bitterly, even though you were smiling a little bit. You couldn’t tell if you were still mad at him for sleeping with Lola, after all you were on a break, but Rachel didn’t forgive Ross for a couple of episodes. Would that count as months or weeks?

He groaned on the microphone, “I’m sorry, so sorry. I-I- hate myself for that,” he said, “I regret it so much. I don’t want to marry this bitc-” he hiccupped and laughed, “shit, sorry, I shouldn’t be talking that way about my future wife, huh?”

The sarcasm made you laugh a little, and pressing the phone tightly against your ear, you looked at the papers that were on your bedside table. Every word he said pushed you into getting him back.

“You will be happy, Ethan” you said, “You will see.”

“Not without you” he slurred once again, making your heart skip once more. You could hear the music that was blasting on his bachelor party but he was talking louder than the music. He kept silent for a few seconds before talking again, “I can’t believe I let you go that easily.”

You wanted to say something back, but before you could open your mouth, he hang up. On purpose or not; he said the right thing to convince you completely. You were getting Ethan Dolan back on your side.

 -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

 “So, have you ever imagined yourself walking down the aisle?” Ethan asked, his head on your lap and your hands playing with his locks, “I mean, do you want to get married?”

“Yes, I want to, and yes, I have pictured myself walking down the aisle” you laughed. His eyes landed on you, a sweet smile on his cheeks and blushing a little bit.

“And who is waiting for you at the end?”

You caressed his cheeks.

“The only man I have pictured being married to.”

 Standing outside the church, with papers in hand, you knew that you were going to be on the cover of every magazine on the country. Man, privacy wasn’t going to be a thing for months. But you didn’t care about that when Grayson emailed you the test results, the last proof needed, and you printed it before leaving your house. You were late, and you make sure you were; you wanted to end this as Lola had wanted it. On every social media.

With only some old jeans on and Ethan’s sweatshirt, you ran over the church’s steps. A lot of photographers were waiting outside, and as they didn’t recognize you because you were wearing the hood over your head, it wasn’t hard to get into the church. Cameron was waiting for you on the entrance, Grayson had already told her our plan, and she smiled at you when she pulled the hood down.

“Go and get the love of your life back, girl” she said. You smiled at her, and as the both of you walked into the aisle, everything seemed to stop.

He was standing next to Lola wearing a dark suit, and as you stared at him, the bags under his eyes broke your heart. Grayson was by his side, obviously being his best man. It wasn’t until you were two steps into the aisle that gasps were heard, a lot of the guests recognizing you and making everyone turn their heads to look at you. And when his hazel eyes fell on you, opened with surprise and happiness, you couldn’t move your eyes from him.

“Cam, would you do me a favor and read this out loud?” you smashed the papers against her chest and started walking his way, down the aisle. You could hear Cameron reading the test’s result out loud, and how everyone started gasping and whispering. But your attention was in the man that kept on looking at you even when the woman beside him started to scream at him.

“Ethan! It’s not true!” she had said, grabbing his hands but he would pulled them back, not even giving her a quick glance, “Look at me!”

He didn’t. You kept a serious face, mostly when Lola took a few steps in your way and wanted to stop you, but you dodged her hand and as soon as you were only feet away from Ethan, you grabbed the back of his head in your hands and pulled him into you, kissing him in his own wedding, in front of his guests, and don’t giving a damn fuck about it. He was your man, and it was clear when he hugged your waist and pushed you into him, deepening the kiss.

You heard Lola crying and shouting, the photographers inside the church not wasting any minute to take their pictures. Grayson hollered and laughed behind his brother, happy that his twin got his girl back and that Lola wasn’t going to ruin his happiness. Everyone was shocked, disappointed, except for Ethan’s family. They all knew who was the one that could make him so happy, and it was only you.

You pulled away from his lips, a smug smile on your cheeks, and raised one of his eyebrows.

“Did you really think you would get rid of me that easily?” you joked, “or that I could let you go that easily? To marry someone else?”

Ethan smiled, pulling you against him once again and lifting you off from the floor. Your arms hugged his neck instantly, and as he made his way out of the church, all eyes on you, he kept on kissing you.

“You have no idea how much I fucking love you, Y/N” he mumbled against your skin, the claps of his family echoing and making the both of you laugh, “You’re the only one that I want to marry someday.”

You smirked.

“I told you I would walk down the aisle to the only man I pictured being married to,” you helped him open the church door, still in his arms, “Not being the same scenario, but the same man at the end of it.”

The photographers that were outside were on you instantly, the questions almost unrecognizable as everyone spoke at the same time. Ethan pulled you into his side, almost running into the car that was rented for the wedding day, and you couldn’t help but laugh as you jumped inside. He jumped inside too, throwing his suit jacket on the backseats and driving away from all the drama that was starting.

You would never let this man leave your life, and he would never let you leave his, not that easily. Not now, nor never.

[embidoesocrp]

Comprehensive RP Standards & Rules

Please Note: If I’m slow or unable to reply, there’s likely a very good reason behind it (ie. mental illness/lack of spoons, inability to get into character, personal matters, etc). All I ask is that you’re patient and understanding -- we’re only human after all! You can even occasionally inquire updates from my end since I do care about keeping both of us up-to-date. Thanks for understanding!

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OCs and muses

Multi-verse & AU’s (unless otherwise stated or specified in RP Blog descriptions)

Smut/SRP, NSFW, Fluff, Dark/Triggering content

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Multi-ships – both platonically & romantically; Canon×OCs are welcome!

by default, i make ships strictly tied to a respective relationship sub-verse tag -- main verses are usually left without a permanent relationship.

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regardless of muses being canon or OC’s, please consider having some chemistry (interactions/threads) done before trying to ship with my muses!

As much as I advocate having All the Ships™, jumping straight into ships without getting a feel of your muse(s) makes it difficult for me to get into them. (´・ω・｀) Apologies about that!

pre-plotted/pre-existing relationships will require that we’ve RP’d together enough for me to get a feel of your RP style, especially with OC’s.

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Format Leniency™ w/ icons, rp length and formatting as well as script-style and paragraph-style RPing (link for info on ‘em) 

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basically, you are absolutely free to follow your own kind of format, and are not obligated to follow the length/format that I use so long as I have something to work with!

Getting referenced/mentioned/involved in other RP threads (IT’D BE AN HONOR.) 

muses that I refer to for specific circumstances (i.e. events from a thread, sub-verses, etc.) will be @mentioned on my part.

‘Read-More’ Censorship – for SRP, spoiler content, extreme gore [on a (N)SFW labeled blog], & long posts

Aged-up versions of fictional characters who are originally/canonically no younger than 14 years old.

I am perfectly, absolutely aware of the fine lines over aging up fictional minors for smut content and will admit that I am perfectly fine/understanding towards RPing such things—so long as it applies to the 14+)—while also fully understanding the controversy it brings.

Aged-up characters or verses that I RP/provide are never intentionally or solely made for smut/SRP content, nor will they ever be.

There’s a good chance that any of my originally/canonically minor teenager whose blog is labeled 18+ may imply an aged-up verse for SRP content. Hopefully, this will help determine if you should be wary of these blogs of mine!

If all else fails, you are absolutely allowed to politely and respectfully ask if there is an aged-up verse with potential SRP content! This way, you can blacklist appropriately.

RP Blogs with smut content will always be labeled accordingly

Rule of Thumb on Age Gaps for Ships: no more than 2 years between minors with 18-year olds, and 3 years between muses aged 18-20 years old with 21+.

Even then, minor×adult SRP/smut is PROHIBITED.

Both muns must take/understand necessary precautions when involving aged-up fictional characters or minor muses, consider any adjustments that may be needed, and must be both adults (18+). 

Of course, if you yourself actually condone pedophilia, I will block you.

This RPer is against/does not practice the following:

Godmodding Rude/Excessive reminders to reply to thread Complaints of unreplied/dropped threads

Engaging in SRP content with minors – will be blocked upon discovery

doesn’t include engaging in SFW content, but once you are blocked you’re unable to interact with me at all

I do not condone pedophilia and RP smut with RPers who are minors.

Reblog Karma – you are not obligated/required to send an ask in exchange for its respective inbox meme; feel free to reblog any memes from me!

If you, however, do practice reblog karma and I reblog without sending something in, though, please let me know!

Likewise, if you prefer people reblogging from the source and not you, please let me know if I ever do as such! I am a very forgetful bun.

Hate mail/anons in any shape or form (ie. suicide instigation, death threats, cyber-bullying)

Hate/‘Phobias’ towards any gender

Soft-blocks — you’re either permanently blocked or not, so be sure to act accordingly.

If for any reason I have blocked you by mistake or under a misunderstanding, I will either unblock or consider unblocking.

Likewise, if you have soft-blocked me for any reason and I, for some reason, somehow, still get to you, you have every right to let me know that I’ve made you uncomfortable and request that I no longer interact with you! (And if it still persists because I can be one hell of a forgetful bun, do remember that you have the right to permanently block me, I understand!)

I’m honestly still trying to understand these soft-block mechanics, if I’m honest...

Racism, Discrimination, Witch Hunts/Call-Out posts — being actively involved in one will automatically be an unfollow & potential block from me.

Pressure regarding thread replies/involvement in drama/desired content

Mutuals-Only interactions

More often than not, my RP blogs may be side-blogs to a main hub (especially if I’m RPing more than one muse in a fandom). Please be sure to check if they are! They’ll usually be mentioned in the descriptions of the blog.

If you are a mutuals-exclusive RPer, please let me know!

Outside Reblogs on RP Threads — Unless you are the RPer(s) involved, DO NOT REBLOG the thread.

Liking & commenting the post is okay for me. HOWEVER, please also respect what rules & policies the other RPer(s) may have! They have the right to react accordingly on their part.

This RPer has the rights towards the following:

Not expanding on ask-response replies

Refusing to start/continue a thread for any particular reason

Dropping a thread for any particular reason (especially when it feels that there isn’t much to continue on in it)

Giving more attention to some threads than others

Being finicky between doing legitimate RP threads vs. casually being IC

Being finicky with social interactions between individuals

Not becoming mutuals

Other Universal Standards & Guidelines

Dash Organization > Mutuals-Exclusive Practices

Follows & Mutuals =/= Interaction Privileges --- for me, follows are a means of controlling the content on my dash, not an indication of whether or not I want us to interact!

Depending on the blog’s popularity, RP blogs may or may not be fandom-restricted (interactions exclusive to canon/-versed/-oriented muses/OCs), unless exceptions for particular individuals are granted.

Multi-Muse Blogs are less likely to be followed (which might also be highly dependent on blog’s popularity) for dash content organization, especially if the muses extend across multiple fandoms.

Interactions > Reading Rules/Following when it comes to receiving a follow from me as it again depends on how often we interact.

Individual RP Blogs can and will have their own, more specific guidelines to follow depending on its fandom/popularity! 

 Policies can usually be found at the top of the blog’s description, listing what the blog consists of and what content is followed/allowed/restricted.

These policies can and will overrule respective universal policies here.

RP & Liked Content =/= Morals & What I Condone

Likewise, even if there are ships/morals/opinions that do not match with mine, it’s just as the saying goes: to each their own. So long as conflicts do not rise, we can still interact! People can like different things and still be nice to each other. God, I can’t stress this enough.

“I find that, for me, the work is a safe place to put all the stuff you don't want to put in your real life. I don't want to be a crazy, manic asshole. I don't want to have an affair. I don't want to have a fucking gunfight. But! There's a part of your brain that wants to experience everything, and so work's a safe place to explore it all. Both in the writing and in the performing. I get to write about an affair. I get to have the guilt and the feeling of that without having to fuck my life up. [laughs] Art is the place to safely explore all those other sides of you, because the side you want to bring home is the side that wants to be a good father and be a good husband and be a good son. In art we can be fucking nuts.” -- Lin-Manuel Miranda [ x ]

Muse =/= Mun

Rule of Thumb: if the muse’s behavior is beginning to come on too strongly, chances are that I’m fully aware of this and will most likely show it via tags!

Tag Commentary — you are absolutely free to not provide OOC commentary in the tags, especially if you are an IC blog. This just helps show who I am as a mun!

Level of Investment = Thread Priorities & Muse Activity

I, unfortunately, am inspirationally-driven when it comes to my musings, and can therefore be selective with my activity or drop threads I’m unable to continue having a musing for. However, this does not mean I have anything against you, it’s just how my fuel for RPing works. 

Still, I do my best to answer all my threads, so please be patient and understanding with me! Thanks!

By default, I will always assume that threads with me are the lowest priority and can/will eventually be dropped at any time by you.

All in all, so long as we keep to our own lanes instead of actively pursuing the other on behalf of our differences in beliefs, there shouldn’t be any problems. RPing is meant to be a fun, creative and laid-back FICTIONAL environment that is meant to be kept separately from reality.

Regarding Asks & IMs

IC & OOC Asks outside of inbox memes are allowed!

If sent anonymously for side-blog reasons, tag your blog and it will be re-tagged for notification purposes!

ex: ((@nameofrpsidebloghere))

If responding to an ask-response, please post it in a new text post by tagging the blog name and adding a link to the ask-response!

ask-response posts and even photo posts clutter the dashboard and ruin RP consistency...!

You are free to IM me for plots and reply reminders! (I’m a really lenient, GWF/go-with-flow RPer) 

Please note, however, that if I feel the thread isn’t really going anywhere, no longer following a sort of plot, and/or isn’t keeping my interest, I eventually assume that it’s drop-able and will drop it myself.

Universal Tags for Inbox Memes & Themed Starters

For IC

Ask/M!A/RP asks --- #askmarp memes || #askmarp response

Ask/Inbox Memes --- #inbox memes || #inbox response

Themed Starter Memes --- #starter memes || #starter response

Drabble Memes --- #drabble memes || #drabble response

For OOC aka the Mun 

Ask/Inbox Memes --- #mun inbox memes || #mun inbox response

Themed Starter Memes --- #mun starter memes || #mun starter response

For NSFW Content

Ask/M!A/RP asks --- #nsfw askmarp memes || #nsfw askmarp response

Ask/Inbox Memes --- #nsfw inbox memes || #nsfw inbox response

Themed Starter Memes --- #nsfw starter memes || #nsfw starter response

For a Faster Inbox Response – include corresponding rp/ask meme post! 

 ex: [Name of Meme Here!:] ♡ - symbol description here!

If even after reading the standards you still aren’t certain how RPing with me is like, you can also refer to these universal tags:

#rp guidelines - guidelines I follow as an RPer

#chill rp blog is chill - worrisome topics I’m okay with as an RPer

That aside, when in doubt, just ask! I’m totally cool with it, and always want to make sure the both of us are having a fun, comfortable time RP/interacting IC with each other! Do also remember that you are always, always able to just unfollow me, even softblock me if you have to (though I’d appreciate a direct notification/explanation for the first time I address the softblock if that ever occurs...!).

Were you able to read the whole thing?

Feel free to let me know by sending ‘whispers among psithurism’ in the ask (you aren’t required to, though)! Thanks for taking time to read this! Happy RPing!

[skiller0dani]

Battle of Hearts | Septiplier

Summary: Jack leaves Mark after a nasty fight- knowing that together they’re toxic and knowing they’ll be happier apart. 

Pairing: Jack x Mark (JackSepticEye x Markiplier) 

Word Count: 7.3k

Warnings: Angst, Tears, Fighting, Sadness

A/N: all I really have to say is that I really love Septiplier. Do you agree or do you agree. 

Masterlist

He wasn't quite sure when it all went wrong. When it turned from sunshine to a hurricane. When the love and laughter was replaced with heartbreak and swallowing their tears. When the holding and hugging was swapped for Jack shoving Mark away from him because he just couldn't bare Mark's touch. Jack sat shakily, not even crying anymore. This fight was nasty, some hurtful things were shouted from both of them. Insults, degrades, and many other things shook through them as they remember spitting it at the other. Jack has been on the fence about this for a while but this just proves his fear. The fear that they did nothing but hurt each other, that they were toxic together. He didn't want to continue to hurt Mark and it really doesn't matter what they do to try and change it. This is the way is has to be. Jack leans his elbows on his knees, looking down at his clasped hands. Mark looked over at him, worried as he knows what's been running through his head lately.

"Baby I'm sorry." Mark mumbles, trying to capture Jack's attention. Jack didn't move, just remained still.

"Jack..." Mark said softly, sliding over to be closer to him. Jack froze, his eyes moving from his hands to the wall.

"Please." Mark pleaded, moving his arm over Jack's shoulders. He gently began to pull Jack over, until Jack finally gave in and leaned into Mark's chest. Mark held Jack to him tightly, drawing circles on his arm with the pad of his thumb. Jack knew where he would be in the morning, so he decided to enjoy Mark's presence for one more night.

"I'm sorry Jack." Mark said again, hoping to hear Jack's pretty voice. He remained silent though, breaking Mark's heart. Was he really so upset he didn't even wanna talk?

"Please talk to me." Mark pleaded again, feeling anxiety growing in his stomach.

"Mark..." Jack mumbled, not being able to manage more. But it didn't matter to Mark, even hearing name fall past Jack's lips was enough for him. Mark pressed a kiss to Jack's head, holding him as close as he could.

"I love you Sean." Mark told him, lying down onto the couch. He pulled Jack over with him, setting Jack on his chest. Jack listened to Mark's heartbeat as he felt tears in his eyes.

"I-I love you too." He responds, trying to keep the despair out of his voice. But Mark noticed, and lifted Jack's head.

"Baby what's wrong? What happened? Did I do something wrong?" Mark asked, feeling panic in his chest. Jack furiously shook his head before he buried his face into Mark's chest.

"Then what is it? I'll make it better." Mark said pulling Jack closer so that Jack's head lay in the curve of Mark's neck.

"Y-You can't." Jack stammered, not really sure of what he was saying.

"Then I'll help you forget." Mark told him softly as they lay on the couch.

***

It was 6 in the morning, and Jack stood with his bag slung over his shoulder. Silent tears rolled down his cheeks as he looked over Mark's sleeping form. He wanted to drop everything and lay back in bed with him, but he knew he couldn't do that. He had to stop the heartache, he knew Mark wouldn't. Mark would try everything he could to make it work, but they've been doing that. Nothing works, and from the very moment they connected Jack somehow knew this is how it was supposed to end. He pulled his white t-shirt down as he quietly moved out into the living room. He let his eyes look over the room, soaking it all in. Remembering every good moment, and every bad moment. He remembered how they decided to make macaroni art at 4 in the morning sat giggling like idiots at the dining table. He looked over to the couch where he remembered their first bad fight, ending with Jack collapsing in tears and Mark rushing to him telling him he didn't mean all the hurtful things he said. He lets his eyes move to a photo on the wall, at Playlist Live where they first told the viewers. He remembered Mark kissing him and hearing the screams. He remembered throwing that picture at Mark in another fight, resulting in a crack in the bottom right corner of the glass. Tears continued to slide down his cheeks as he carefully opened the wooden door, hesitant to step outside. He turned, admiring the room once more before softly closing the door behind him.

***

Mark woke a couple hours later. His hand subconsciously reached out to his right, expecting to feel Jack. His eyes popped open when he felt nothing but the bed sheets. He rolled onto is back and sat up, letting his eyes move around the room. Jack's phone was gone, and his charger. He then moved his gaze to the floor by the closet, to find all Jack's shoes gone. No. Mark threw the blankets off him, quickly moving into the closet. He threw the doors open, to see all Jack's t-shirts gone as well. No no no. Mark's mind was in a complete panic as he noticed more of Jack's belongings missing as well. He gripped the roots of his hair helplessly as he staggered out into his living room. He glanced around, everything looking normal and ordinary. A thought popped into Mark's head as he began to frantically search for a note Jack might have left. He looked for almost a half hour and his heart sunk when he found nothing. Mark felt sick as the room almost began to sway. No no no no no. That was the only thing being chanted in Mark's head, almost like a mantra. He stumbled to get his phone and he unlocked it, dialing Jack's number. The phone rang and rang and rang but Mark was met by a monotone voice. The voice informed him that the number has been...blocked? Why would Jack do this? Mark dropped his phone as he slid down the wall onto the floor. He gripped the hair on either side of his head as he felt nausea moving through his abdomen. What was he supposed to do now? Jack was gone, Jack left him. Tears ran over Mark's cheeks as he dropped his head to his knees, crying.

***

"Please Felix, I'm not asking to talk to him. I just need to know that he's okay." Mark pleaded, hearing Felix sigh on the other side.

"He's fine." Felix lied, knowing perfectly well that Jack was falling apart. Jack shook as tears ran over his cheeks. He placed his palms over his mouth in an attempt to silence himself as Mark spoke to Felix. Jack didn't want to go home right away in case Mark went to Ireland looking for him, so he was staying at Felix's for a few weeks. Felix nor Marzia minded, they wanted to help Jack.  

"Really? Is he home or...?" Mark asked, hoping Felix would tell him. Felix glanced over at Jack once before shifting from foot to foot.

"I don't know where he is, sorry Mark." Felix lied again. Panic shot through Mark at that statement, nobody knew where Jack was? What if something was wrong?

"You don't know where he is? What if he's hurt? What if he needs help?" Mark stressed, panic rising.

"I know for a fact he's okay. I just talked to him earlier today." Felix lied again, looking at Jack in concern as he slid to the floor crying. Marzia rushed to Jack, wrapping her arms around his torso.

"H-He talked to you?" Mark asked in disbelief.

"Yes and he told me he's fine and needs time away. I haven't been able to get ahold of him since." Felix told him, his eyes fixed on Jack.

"Thanks Felix...I'll let you go. Call me if you see him please?" Mark asked, tears in his eyes.

"Yeah sure thing buddy." Felix says, hanging up. He moves towards Jack as Jack glances up at him.

"M-Mark'll figure it out, I can't stay here." Jack stammers.

"Where else are you gonna go?" Marzia asks worried.

"I don't know, I'll figure it out." Jack says weakly, moving to get his bag.

"Jack, you can stay here. I'm worried about you man." Felix says worried as Jack moves to the front door. Jack only smiles a watery smile as he closes the door behind him.

***

Three harsh raps on the door make Marzia jump as she quickly runs to answer the door. The door swings open to reveal a disheveled Mark as he pushes inside the flat.

"Where is he?" Mark asks, his voice breaking. Felix comes into view, moving backwards from Mark.

"I don't know." Felix says softly.

"Bullshit! He was here, you lied to me!" Mark says loudly, tears running down his cheeks.

"He was." Felix confirms.

"Well where is he now?" Mark asks expectantly. Felix glances back at Marzia before he looks Mark in the eyes.

"Gone."

It's been 8 months. Mark remembers this clearly. He's been counting each and everyday. He watches all of Jack's new video's, just to make sure he's okay. It kills Mark to see Jack doing so well, even though it shouldn't. Jack doesn't look upset in the slightest, and he describes their break up as 'going their own ways' and that the viewers shouldn't be worried because him and Mark are 'still really close friends'. Mark always scoffs at that video, do friends not talk for months and months on end? Sometimes he picks up his phone and dials Jack's number, in hopes that one day he'll finally be unblocked. During this time Mark has tried so desperately to move on like Jack wanted him to, but he can't. How can he? Jack never said anything, he never even said goodbye! Nobody ever even compares to Jack, nobody could reach that level in Mark's mind. Mark is still so painfully in love with Jack and he can't take this anymore. He thinks about Jack every single day, and often has to fight the urge to fly out to Ireland. Mark groans, resting his head back against the headboard, wishing Jack would of at least let him keep something. A t-shirt, jacket, anything. He needs to smell Jack's cologne and feel his warmth. He needs to be near Jack, he needs it. Mark never tries to reach out to Jack, since he isn't blocked on any social media. Mark doesn't know why he doesn't try, maybe he's afraid that if he does Jack'll block him. He needs to see Jack somewhere, to see his bright smile, or his gorgeous blue eyes. Mark needs to see his dumb tweets and stupid jokes, he needs to be able to laugh every once in a while. Mark doesn't even try anymore, not even with Felix. He's so tired and his heart aches so much that all he can do is hope and pray that someday, Jack will come back to him.

***

Jack stands still, outside the door. He needed to do this, for Mark. His heart feels like it's being squeezed to death. His mouth hangs dry as he raises a shaky fist. 8 months. He should have left a note, or called him. He thought it would be easier for Mark if he just left, but it made it 10 times harder than he thought. He loved Mark more than anything, and Jack was doing this in the hopes that someday Mark will find someone who he's happy with. Jack knew him and Mark were too poisonous together. There was too much screaming, crying, and heartbreak. It hurt more to be with Mark, with how dysfunctional they were, than it does to be without him. Jack knocked on the door, bracing for what was to come. The door swung open to reveal Mark, who stopped dead when he saw Jack. Jack smiled a small smile at him.

"Hi Mark." He said casually, as tears began to well in Mark's eyes.

"Y-You came back." Mark stammered, feeling so many different emotions.

"I came to talk Mark." Jack explained, moving inside the house. Mark nodded frantically as he shut the door behind him.

"Of course, whatever you want." Mark said, shifting from foot to foot.

"Do you want to sit down?" Jack asked and Mark nodded, both of them moving to the couch. Jack clasped his hands together, trying his best to keep his facade on. He needed to look strong, crying was not an option.

"Mark, I came to talk to you about something." Jack said seriously, causing panic to run through Mark's chest.

"S-Sure what is it?" Mark asked, fidgeting slightly on the couch.

"I came to talk about what happened, 8 months ago." Jack explained.

"When you left me?" Mark asked, not meaning it to sound so bitter. Mark was sure Jack had good reason, maybe he's here to fix everything and come back to him.

"Yeah, when I left you." Jack said, running a hand through his hair.

"Mark, I'm not here to come back." Jack said, causing Mark's eyes to widen.

"Then why are you here? To hurt me?" Mark exclaims, hurt.

"I came here to do what I should have done 8 months ago. To say goodbye." Jack told him, looking over at him.

"W-Why? Sean I love you! Fuck I love you! Why are you doing this? We can fix us, I can fix us." Mark says, beginning to beg. Jack slowly shook his head, standing from the couch.

"We can't. All we do is hurt each other. Mark I can't hurt you like that anymore, I can't hurt like that anymore." Jack tells him calmly, keeping his composure.

"I can change baby! I will change, just please don't walk out that door. Not a second time." Mark pleads as Jack moves to the door. Jack places his hand on the door handle, and he looks back at Mark.

"Know that I'm doing this for you. You will always hold a very special place in my heart. Mark I will always remember the good times we had, and we did have good times. Please just let us go okay? It's better this way." Jack tells him calmly, but Mark is having a breakdown.

"S-Sean please. I'll do anything. Why would you come back to just leave again? It's mean, it's not fair! I can't just move on. I love you so damn much! I was okay, I was hopeful, why did you have to come back, if you didn't want me back?" Mark asked through tears.

"So that this time, you can see me leave. I won't be just a ghost that slipped away, leaving you hopeful that I'd come back. I want you to move on, you needed for me to say goodbye. I'm giving you closure Mark." Jack says, still remaining calm.

"I don't want closure! I want you!" Mark cries, gripping his roots.

"Goodbye Mark. I will always love you." Jack tells him softly, opening the door and closing it behind him. Mark remains frozen for a moment before he rushes to the door and yanks it open. He sees Jack close the door to his taxi, before it takes off. He runs to the end of his driveway as he watches helplessly as it disappears into the horizon.

He stands motionless because he knows that this time, Jack wont come back. This was goodbye. Mark realizes the hard way that everything good in this world always ends. Nothing lasts forever, no matter how much you love someone that doesn't mean they wont leave you. That's the nature of the world, the best things always get ripped apart.

And as Mark stands in his driveway, he can feel a hot knife, slowly twisting and digging into his already battered heart.

Jack lays wide eyed in bed, his mind going a million different directions. Mark has a girlfriend, and for the first time this entire year, Jack feels his heart breaking. He's been strong, this whole year he's been able to remain strong. It hasn't hurt him much, it was one of the hardest things Jack has ever done, but he was strong enough to deal with it. But now Mark has a girlfriend, and she's beautiful and so many things that Jack isn't. He doesn't cry, no matter how much it hurts- Jack doesn't cry. He isn't a crier anymore, this last year has been so emotionally devastating and one of the hardest years of Jack's life. It's hardened him. He closes his eyes, wondering what Mark is doing right now. He's awake, maybe having lunch? What if he's with her? He's probably happy, Jack hopes he's happy. Mark was upset when Jack left- but even now Jack knew he made the right choice. Look at how much happier Mark is. He's happier. Jack left him because he loves him, even now he still loves Mark. He's never going to stop loving Mark- but even if you love someone that doesn't mean you're good for them.

Mark stared vacantly into the distance as Amy prattled on about her day. Mark tried to listen he did but he couldn't stop thinking about Jack's Tweet from yesterday, 'date night wish me luck!' Jack went on a date? Did it go well? Is he seeing this person again? Mark should be moved on, and he tried. He cried, and then focused on his videos, and he started working out regularly. Helps get stress out, and now he feels almost numb. Not happy, not sad, not anything. "Babe? You okay?" Amy asks with a smile and Mark nods, taking her hand from across the table. He likes Amy, he really does. She's beautiful, smart, creative, and exactly what Mark needs- she's just not what he wants. But sometimes what you want is the opposite of what you need. Jack seems to think Mark is better without him- and for a year Mark has tried to convince him otherwise. But he's finally given up- when Jack has his mind made up no one but him can change it. Jack is what Mark wants, what he needs. Mark is always going to want Jack, he doesn't know why Jack thinks they aren't good together. Sure they fight, but that's something that can be changed with hard work- Jack gave up too easily.

Jack sat at his desk chair, slowly spinning. He isn't feeling like doing anything today- he wants Mark. But he has to stay strong, he can't give in not now that Mark is so close to finally forgetting him. But what he doesn't know is that Mark could never forget him- he loves Jack too much. Jack rubbed his hands over his face sighing heavily. He pulls out his phone, dialing the most recent number. "Nate? Hey, yeah I had fun last night. You wanna come over? Okay great see you in 10." Jack hung up, Nate was nice. Jack still wasn't sure if he liked Nate or just wanted someone to fill the empty space. Jack needed somebody to hold him- and he hates thinking that. It sounds pathetic. Nate wasn't a bad guy, he was in financing- boring. He wasn't as sculpted as Mark, he was a little thinner and he was blonde. Jack never thought he'd date a blonde. For a while he didn't think he'd date anybody but Mark. Funny how life changes and once upon a time all your dreams are as real as fairy tales. Funny.

Mark held his phone in his shaking hands, he was going to be leaving for London tomorrow, and Jack just recently moved there. Lunch couldn't hurt right? Both of them are in relationships and lunch doesn't mean more- it means friendship. Just friends. Mark can do just friends...right?

To: Jack Hey! Gonna be in London tomorrow. Lunch at noon? I'll buy! :)

Jack froze, staring down at his phone. Lunch? Mark was going to be in London? Jack swallowed a nervous lump in his throat, he hasn't seen Mark since he broke up with him in person. He hasn't spoken to Mark since then. The Viewers also began to notice they weren't completely honest about their break up because they took notice that Mark and Jack weren't filming together. Or speaking to each other. Or even speaking about each other.

From: Jack Sure! I look forward to it! Have a safe flight, see you tomorrow.

Mark smiled, the first real genuine smile in a year. A smile that doesn't feel even a little forced, Mark feels butterflies swarming in his stomach. He's so happy he could cry, scream, and faint all at the same time. He's gonna see Jack tomorrow. He doesn't know if he should smile until his cheeks hurt, or throw up. What is he going to wear? Should he wear something casual? Or dress up...dress down? And his hair, should he leave it or style it up? Is Jack gonna be happy to see him? Or is he gonna be distant? Will he even want to be friends? He loves Jack with everything he has, he's given Jack every part of him let him see the good, and the bad. He's never felt closer to another human being. Mark turns his attention back to Amy, happier than he's felt in a long time.

"Nate, hey!" Jack smiles, opening the door. Nate smiles, leaning down and giving Jack a quick kiss. Jack waited for that moment, the sparks flying, feeling all the pieces of the World come together- but it didn't happen. It was stale, and nothing but a kiss. Nate shed his jacket, looking around Jack's apartment. Jack's phone lays unlocked on his kitchen table where he left it to answer the door. "Who is Mark?" Nate asks accusingly, his eyebrows pinching in frustration. Jack's eyebrows raised in surprise, he wasn't dating Nate. So why was Nate demanding an answer like Jack was cheating on him? "A friend?" Jack says, growing defensive. "Just a friend?" Nate asks, crossing his arms. "Yes, and it's none of your business anyway." Jack snaps, taking his phone. He's angry that Nate read his texts and then had the nerve to demand him to explain himself. Nate has a moment of realization before his expression gets angrier, "that's Mark. Like your ex-boyfriend of 3 years." Nate snaps, taking a step towards Jack. Jack laughed bitterly, "you can leave now." Jack says, he doesn't need an overbearing and possessive boyfriend. Jack is not a possession, he needs trust in a relationship.

"Excuse me?" Nate says, his volume increasing. "I said leave Nate." Jack snapped, crossing his arms. Nate stormed towards Jack, who didn't budge. "Why the fuck are you still talking to him?" Nate asks, staring down at Jack. "Why the fuck do you care?" Jack bit back, his fists curled in frustration. Nate ran his hands through his hair, his face reddening. "Because you're mine, and I don't like what's mine wandering." Nate snapped, moving to sit on the couch. "I'm not anybody's. We went on one date, that does not make me yours. Now get the fuck out." Jack snapped, turning to got to his room but Nate stands and grabs Jack's arm. "Seriously? Don't talk to Mark anymore, and don't go to lunch tomorrow." Nate demanded and Jack ripped his arm free- shoving Nate out of the front door. "Get the fuck out and leave me alone!" Jack yelled, slamming the door in his face. Jack collapses on his couch, did that seriously just happen? He let out a deep breath, pulling out his phone.

To: Mark just kicked out a crazy boyfriend? well we went on one date. I was his boyfriend according to him.

From: Mark hey! you okay? Was it the date you mentioned on Twitter?

Mark still read Jack's tweets? Jack smiled, a blush crawling up his neck.

To: Mark yeah, he read our conversation and got angry. Demanded I don't see you and don't talk to you.

From: Mark what did you tell him?

To: Mark to fuck off lol

A wide smile spread across Mark's face, Jack kicked out a guy he liked because the guy told him not to talk to Mark. He kicked out that guy for Mark. A blush makes it's way up his cheeks as he quickly types a reply.

From: Mark I'll buy you an extra drink tomorrow

Jack smiles, setting his phone down. He still can't believe Nate turned into a complete psychopath. He seemed so nice last night, I guess everyone has a dark side- no matter how nice they seem. Jack let out a deep breath, his nerves building more and more.

***

Jack opened the door to the restaurant he was meeting Mark at, Mark was still on his way so Jack got a table for 2. About 15 minutes later Mark walks in and Jack stops breathing. Mark's hair is tussled, and he's wearing round glasses. He looks tired, but he has this glow to him- he really is happier without him. Mark smiles when he sees Jack, and his breath hitches. Jack was wearing a loose t-shirt, the collar exposing his collarbones. Oh how Mark loved to kiss down those damn collarbones... "hey!" Jack smiles, breaking Mark's dirty train of thought. Jack stood up and hugged Mark, and they both sat there, feeling each other, smelling the familiar scent they both missed so much. They hugged for a little too long but neither of them cared, they sat down and for a moment neither of them knew what to say. "So what are you doing in London?" Jack asks to break the silence, "vacation. Plus I missed you...and Felix!" Mark adds at the end, he didn't want to come on too strong and scare Jack away again.

"It's good to see you Mark." Jack smiled shyly and Mark beamed, Jack missed him. He can tell, and this brings a peace to Mark that he hasn't felt in a long time. Sitting here with Jack, Mark feels like the piece of him that was missing has finally found it's way back to him. "Do you remember when I was playing Just Dance in the living room?" Mark smiled and Jack burst into laughter, "with those stupid fucking booty shorts on? You smacked your head on the coffee table trying do that Russian song." Jack smiled, Mark rubbed his head, "I bled everywhere! I almost had to get stitches. Still hurts." Mark whines, smiling when he sees how happy Jack looks. "You're an idiot." Jack laughs and Mark blushes, feeling like his heart is going to explode. "Jack, are you happy?" Mark asks softly, looking down at his hands. Jack knew this conversation was going to happen, and he didn't know what to say. Jack swallowed down a lump in his throat, he wasn't a crier anymore. "Yeah, I'm good. Are you?" Jack lies with a smile and Mark felt his heart splinter a little bit. He felt his eyes mist, but he held it back. "Yeah...yeah I'm happy." Mark lied quietly. Jack smiled, that's what he wanted... for Mark to be happy, right?

"How long you gonna be in London?" Jack asks as they stand outside the cafe. Mark smiled, "2 weeks. And it's just me." Mark says, making sure Jack knows Amy isn't here. "We should...y'know.. hang out while you're here." Jack says nervously and Mark smiles widely, "I would like that." Mark looks at Jack and their eyes lock, and that fire reignites again. "Jack?" An angry and demanding voice snaps. Jack looks over to see Nate? "What the hell are you doing here?" Jack asks, anger in his tone. Nate storms over, and Mark immediately becomes protective of Jack. "Nate, did you follow me?" Jack asks with a brow raised, "had to make sure you weren't gonna crawl back to your ex. God you're such a whore, come on we're leaving." Nate snaps, dragging Jack by his arm. "You're fucking insane Nate!" Jack yells, wriggling against his grip. Mark storms forward and rips Nate off Jack, standing in front of Jack instinctively.

"Don't touch him again." Mark snaps, keeping Jack behind him. Nate laughs, stepping so close he's chest to chest with Mark. "He's dating me now, you're just his filthy ex trying to come in and take my man from me." Nate says calmly, with a smug smile on his face. "I am not your boyfriend Nate!" Jack yells from behind Mark. Mark turns to walk away when Nate shoves him and he stumbles but he catches himself. He turns to approach Nate but he sees Jack's fist collide with Nate's jaw. "Don't ever touch him or me again. Leave me the fuck alone!" Jack yells, reaching to grab Mark's hand. Jack pulls him all the way back to his house, which is a short distance away. Once the door is closed- Jack releases a shaky breath. Mark doesn't miss the face that their hands are still intertwined together. "You okay?" Mark asks and Jack nods, using all of his self control to hold back the tears. He is not a crier anymore.

Jack sits on his couch, with Mark sitting next to him. Mark now is terrified of leaving Jack here alone when he has to go back to LA. Is Jack gonna be okay with that psychopath stalking him? Jack leans his head on Mark's shoulder and Mark carefully wraps an arm around him, making sure Jack feels nice and safe with him. Jack sits up, taking a deep breath to hold tears back, he will not cry. He isn't a crier. He's not. Mark looks at him, reaching out for Jack. "Baby?" Mark asks, eyes widening at what he said, he said it so naturally he couldn't even stop it.

And tears stream down Jack's face.

Mark's eyes were wide, why does he always fuck it up. He watches Jack with tears on his face. Mark is frozen, he doesn't know what to do. He didn't mean to call Jack baby, but Jack was his baby for 3 years and it's hard to remember Jack is just his friend. Jack furiously wiped away his tears, after a year of working so hard to hold his emotions in, to deal with them internally and to not let himself cry- was all undone with one single word. He isn't angry with Mark, this is just all a lot. It's too much too fast, first Nate yells at him, stalks him, and then he reconnects with Mark, Nate tries to assault Mark and now this? It's too much. "P-please go." Jack stammers, feeling his heart racing so fast he can't breathe. His hands are tingling and his breaths are ragged and uneven. He can't breathe, he can't speak. "Jack, you're having a panic attack-" Mark starts, moving towards him. Jack turns away, his hands coming up to his head. "Mark go!" Jack says desperately. He doesn't know if he wants Mark to go or stay but he needs time to figure all this out. This is an entire year of emotions boiling over.

"Jack please let me explain-" Mark begs- he can't believe he messed up again. Now he's going to lose Jack forever, he can't believe he called Jack baby. With everything Jack must have going on in his head that's the last thing he needs to hear. Jack sits on the couch, with his head in his hands and tears running down his cheeks. Mark's heart breaks as he thinks back to that final fight before Jack left the next morning. Mark always does this to him, and for the first time Mark understands why Jack left. He was protecting Mark, but most importantly Jack was protecting himself. Mark feels helpless as Jack speaks again, "I just- I need space. Please go. I'll call you tomorrow." Jack says weakly, trying to calm himself down. Mark opens the door, looking back at Jack, "will you?" Mark asks softly but Jack doesn't answer so Mark closes the door behind him. When the door closes Mark grips the roots of his hair in frustration as tears build in his eyes.

Jack sits on his couch, trembling as tears fall. He's not hysterical or sobbing, he's calm but he feels like everything is breaking apart. "Baby" He can't get that word out of his head, how good it felt to be Mark's baby, even for a few seconds. He can't get it out of his fucking head. He can't forget how much he misses that, how much he misses Mark. How much he misses the good times, and the kisses and the 'I'm sorry's after the bad times. Did he make the right choice? Did Jack do the right thing letting Mark go? Jack lets out a deep breath, feeling the tears still come. Why can't he stop crying? It feels like he's letting out a years worth of holding it all in right now. A knock on his door draws him to his feet and everything in him wants it to be Mark. He wants Mark to fight for him, but Jack knows he won't because he tried that and it only caused him to lose Jack more and more. Jack opens the door to be met with Nate, "what the fuck." Jack mutters under his breath, how long is it gonna take for this guy to realize that Jack isn't interested.

Jack starts to close the door but Nate's foot stops it from closing. Jack knows he still has tears in his eyes and on his cheeks, he doesn't need this right now. "Jack please just hear me out." Nate begs, but Jack is not interested and keeps the door pressed firmly to his foot. Jack doesn't say anything and Nate doesn't wait for him to continue. "Jack- I... I'm actually a really big fan. I've watched your videos for years and I fell for you the second I saw you. I've loved you for so long that seeing you pine after your ex instead of giving me a chance...it drove me crazy and I'm sorry." Nate says and Jack doesn't even bother looking at him. Nate took a deep breath, desperately trying to get Jack to talk to him. "Look I'm sorry Mark broke up with you but-" "I broke up with him! I left him while he was sleeping and I didn't speak to him for 8 months. Then I broke up with him face to face and we haven't spoken in a year! You don't know shit about me, I'm toxic. Look what I've done. I turned you into a monster, and I've broken Mark's heart more times than I can count. So please..just find somebody else." Jack snaps, his tone softer towards the end. Nate finally moves his foot, and lets Jack close the door.

Jack turned and headed for his bed where he laid down in it, the covers pulled up to his chin as he laid there for hours. Not doing anything, not feeling anything. He is toxic, he ruins every single person he touches, Mark is better without him- he always has been. Tears don't come anymore, but this time he's not holding them back. He just doesn't have anything left to feel- he has nothing. He is nothing. He just lays there, curled up with nothing left to give.

Mark paces in Felix's apartment, he doesn't have any idea what's running through Jack's mind. Jack seemed really messed up when Mark left him, "I have to go back." He tells Felix, who has been utterly helpless during this entire situation. They need to be together- Felix knows they can't be happy if they aren't together. Felix digs around a drawer in the kitchen and returns with a key, "this is his spare key. Gave me one when he moved in." He says and Mark takes the key and practically bolts out the door. He's at Jack's in no time- it's only been a few hours but he's more worried about Jack now then he's ever been. He notices a car parked out front and sees Nate sitting in the driver seat. "What are you doing here?" Mark snaps and Nate rolls his eyes. "I'm here for Jack, whenever he's ready to give me a chance." Nate snaps. Mark could strangle him and wouldn't feel bad. Not one bit. "He still loves me, so find someone else." Mark says, desperately trying to convince himself that Jack does love him.

Mark opens the door with the key and looks around the darkened house. He makes a beeline for Jack's room and sees the covers thrown back and his phone left on the nightstand. Mark rushes to the bathroom, to find it empty and everything seems to be in place. His recording room is empty, the entire house is fucking empty. Where could he have gone? Mark returns to Nate, "he's gone. We have to find him." Nate nods, and unlocks the car. "Get in, we can drive around and see if we can spot him." Mark slides into the passenger seat as Nate begins to drive along the streets, looking around for Jack. "You know him best, is there anywhere he would go when he's upset?" Nate asks and Mark thinks for a moment. "Is there a park nearby?" Mark asks and Nate drives to the park closest to Jack's house, and sure enough Jack is curled beside a tree, looking out into the distance. Nate and Mark get out of the car but Nate hangs back as Mark approaches Jack. Jack doesn't even glance at Mark as he sits down next to him.

"Wasn't that hard for me to find you. You like being in the trees when you're upset." Mark says and Jack nods, "reminds me of home." He tells Mark, not looking at him. "You kinda really scared me when I didn't find you at home..." Mark trails off and Jack doesn't miss the fact that Mark referred to his house as home. "Sorry, just wanted to go for a walk." Jack says, feeling the breeze cool his skin. "Jack I'm sorry I-" Mark starts but Jack cuts him off, "don't. I just need time to wrap my head around everything." Mark nods, just sitting there with him, enjoying the beautiful view Nature provided. "I love you." Jack says, and Mark feels taken aback, "I love you." Jack turns to Mark, "I don't know what's going on with me, and I don't know when I'll be able to fix it...but I miss you. I shouldn't have given up so easily on us..." Jack says and Mark feels this pressure lifted from him, after a year and 8 months Jack finally says what Mark has been praying he'd say from the beginning. But Mark can't hurt him anymore.

"Jack I finally get it. I get why you left, we hurt each other more than we don't. I've hurt you so badly when all you needed was space from me. I can't keep hurting you. Eventually you will be okay- but only without me." Mark says, his heart breaking with every word. Now he knows how Jack was feeling when he left, he made a painful decision to help the both of them find happiness again. Jack is so close to getting there, to being happy but all that work he did will be undone if they get back together. Now Mark must make that same painful decision. All he's wanted is Jack, but now he must let him go, just like Jack let him go. Jack's eyes mist, is this really happening? Mark, he doesn't want to get back together. This can't be happening. "Mark...but you-" Jack starts and Mark smiles sadly, "I know but I didn't get it before. Now I do. I know you can be the person you want to be, but you can't do it with me holding you back." Mark smiles through tears, pressing a kiss to Jack's head as he stands.

Jack stands with him, following like a lost puppy. "Mark please, I was wrong. You have to know that! You were right the entire time, we can be happy together we just have to work for it!" Jack begs, funny how they've now switched places. "Jack we're spinning, like a Merry-Go-Round we keep going around and around. It has to end." Mark calmly explains, but tears are falling down Jack's face. "I don't want it to end, and Mark for a while I felt dizzy, because you're right we were going around and around. But now I see it clearly, and you always did. You said we need to fight for who we love, and I see now that you're right. We can fix this- we can fix us." Jack explains, stepping towards Mark. Mark doesn't want to let him go, he loves Jack more than anything else on this planet. They'll just keep hurting each other, they only hurt each other. "The good times outweigh the bad." Jack whispers, as he takes Mark's hands. Nate by this point as already gotten in his car and driven away, he knows now that nothing he can do will make Jack love him. Jack loves Mark, he's always loved Mark.

Jack smiles, and so does Mark. Whether they hurt each other or not, Mark doesn't have the strength to let him go. He never was as strong willed as Jack. Mark leans in, and presses his lips to Jack's. Things are going to be hard, love is never easy. But now they both have a determination to make it work, and to figure it out- no matter what.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

[embidoesbnharp]

Comprehensive RP Standards & Rules

Please Note: If I’m slow or unable to reply, there’s likely a very good reason behind it (ie. mental illness/lack of spoons, inability to get into character, personal matters, etc). All I ask is that you’re patient and understanding -- we’re only human after all! You can even occasionally inquire updates from my end since I do care about keeping both of us up-to-date. Thanks for understanding!

RP Standards & Guidelines

This RPer is friendly/practices [unless otherwise stated] towards the following:

OCs and muses

Multi-verse & AU’s (unless otherwise stated or specified in RP Blog descriptions)

Smut/SRP, NSFW, Fluff, Dark/Triggering content

Trigger Warnings will be tagged respectively -- please notify the mun if you’d like a TW tagged on a post!

SRP will be censored via Read-More Feature

Multi-ships – both platonically & romantically; Canon×OCs are welcome!

by default, i make ships strictly tied to a respective relationship sub-verse tag -- main verses are usually left without a permanent relationship.

because the mun welcomes almost all kinds of ships (albeit depending on the fandom), be sure to check for respective ship tags in order to blacklist appropriately for those you do not like!

Chemistry/Relations between muses = RP/Interacting with each other

This way, I’m able to get a feel for how you portray your muses, and can determine whether or not there’s compatibility. This also helps me understand you as an RPer, too!

regardless of muses being canon or OC’s, please consider having some chemistry (interactions/threads) done before trying to ship with my muses!

As much as I advocate having All the Ships™, jumping straight into ships without getting a feel of your muse(s) makes it difficult for me to get into them. (´・ω・｀) Apologies about that!

pre-plotted/pre-existing relationships will require that we’ve RP’d together enough for me to get a feel of your RP style, especially with OC’s.

canon characters & their canonical history/relations are assumed to be their default and are thus taken into consideration unless circumstances (i.e. AU’s, verses, etc.) state otherwise

regardless, i would still highly recommend we interact with each other enough so that I get a feel of your portrayal!

Format Leniency™ w/ icons, rp length and formatting as well as script-style and paragraph-style RPing (link for info on ‘em)

script-style/in-character RPing for me will always be in third-person for action

basically, you are absolutely free to follow your own kind of format, and are not obligated to follow the length/format that I use so long as I have something to work with!

Getting referenced/mentioned/involved in other RP threads (IT’D BE AN HONOR.)

muses that I refer to for specific circumstances (i.e. events from a thread, sub-verses, etc.) will be @mentioned on my part.

‘Read-More’ Censorship -- for SRP, spoiler content, extreme gore [on a (N)SFW labeled blog], & long posts

Aged-up fictional characters who are originally/canonically no younger than 14 years old. 

I am perfectly, absolutely aware of the fine lines over aging up fictional minors for smut content and will admit that I am perfectly fine/understanding towards RPing such things---so long as it applies to the 14+)---while also fully understanding the controversy it brings.

Aged-up characters or verses that I RP/provide are never intentionally or solely made for smut/SRP content, nor will they ever be.

There’s a good chance that any of my originally/canonically minor teenager whose blog is labeled 18+ may imply an aged-up verse for SRP content. Hopefully, this will help determine if you should be wary of these blogs of mine!

If all else fails, you are absolutely allowed to politely and respectfully ask if there is an aged-up verse with potential SRP content! This way, you can blacklist appropriately.

RP Blogs with smut content will always be labeled accordingly

Rule of Thumb on Age Gaps for Ships: no more than 2 years between minors with 18-year olds, and 3 years between muses aged 18-20 years old with 21+.

Even then, minor×adult SRP/smut is PROHIBITED.

Both muns must take/understand necessary precautions when involving aged-up fictional characters or minor muses, consider any adjustments that may be needed, and must be both adults (18+).

Of course, if you yourself actually condone pedophilia, I will block you.

This RPer is against/does not practice the following:

Godmodding

Rude/Excessive reminders to reply to thread

Complaints of unreplied/dropped threads

Engaging in SRP content with minors – will be blocked upon discovery

doesn’t include engaging in SFW content, but once you are blocked you’re unable to interact with me at all

I do not condone pedophilia and RP smut with RPers who are minors.

Reblog Karma -- you are not obligated/required to send an ask in exchange for its respective inbox meme; feel free to reblog any memes from me!

If you, however, do practice reblog karma and I reblog without sending something in, though, please let me know!

Likewise, if you prefer people reblogging from the source and not you, please let me know if I ever do as such! I am a very forgetful bun.

Hate mail/anons in any shape or form (ie. suicide instigation, death threats, cyber-bullying)

Hate/‘Phobias’ towards any gender

Soft-blocks --- you’re either permanently blocked or not, so be sure to act accordingly.

If for any reason I have blocked you by mistake or under a misunderstanding, I will either unblock or consider unblocking.

Likewise, if you have soft-blocked me for any reason and I, for some reason, somehow, still get to you, you have every right to let me know that I’ve made you uncomfortable and request that I no longer interact with you! (And if it still persists because I can be one hell of a forgetful bun, do remember that you have the right to permanently block me, I understand!)

I’m honestly still trying to understand these soft-block mechanics, if I’m honest...

Racism, Discrimination, Witch Hunts/Call-Out posts --- being actively involved in one will automatically be an unfollow & potential block from me.

Pressure regarding thread replies/involvement in drama/desired content

Mutuals-Only interactions

More often than not, my RP blogs may be side-blogs to a main hub (especially if I’m RPing more than one muse in a fandom). Please be sure to check if they are! They’ll usually be mentioned in the descriptions of the blog.

If you are a mutuals-exclusive RPer, please let me know!

Outside Reblogs on RP Threads --- Unless you are the RPer(s) involved, DO NOT REBLOG the thread.

Liking & commenting the post is okay for me, but please also respect what rules & policies the other RPer(s) may have! They have the right to react accordingly on their part.

This RPer has the rights towards the following:

Not expanding on ask-response replies

Refusing to start/continue a thread for any particular reason

Dropping a thread for any particular reason (especially when it feels that there isn’t much to continue on in it)

Giving more attention to some threads than others

Being finicky between doing legitimate RP threads vs. casually being IC

Being finicky with social interactions between individuals

Not becoming mutuals

Other Universal Standards & Guidelines

Dash Organization > Mutuals-Exclusive Practices

Follows & Mutuals =/= Interaction Privileges --- for me, follows are a means of controlling the content on my dash, not an indication of whether or not I want us to interact!

Depending on the blog’s popularity, RP blogs may or may not be fandom-restricted (interactions exclusive to canon/-versed/-oriented muses/OCs), unless exceptions for particular individuals are granted.

Multi-Muse Blogs are less likely to be followed (which might also be highly dependent on blog’s popularity) for dash content organization, especially if the muses extend across multiple fandoms.

Interactions > Reading Rules/Following when it comes to receiving a follow from me as it again depends on how often we interact.

Individual RP Blogs can and will have their own, more specific guidelines to follow depending on its fandom/popularity!

Policies can usually be found at the top of the blog’s description, listing what the blog consists of and what content is followed/restricted/allowed.

These policies can and will overrule respective universal policies here.

RP & Liked Content =/= Morals & What I Condone

Likewise, even if there are ships/morals/opinions that do not match with mine, it’s just as the saying goes: to each their own. So long as conflicts do not rise, we can still interact! People can like different things and still be nice to each other. God, I can’t stress this enough.

“I find that, for me, the work is a safe place to put all the stuff you don't want to put in your real life. I don't want to be a crazy, manic asshole. I don't want to have an affair. I don't want to have a fucking gunfight. But! There's a part of your brain that wants to experience everything, and so work's a safe place to explore it all. Both in the writing and in the performing. I get to write about an affair. I get to have the guilt and the feeling of that without having to fuck my life up. [laughs] Art is the place to safely explore all those other sides of you, because the side you want to bring home is the side that wants to be a good father and be a good husband and be a good son. In art we can be fucking nuts.” -- Lin-Manuel Miranda [ x ]

Muse =/= Mun

Rule of Thumb: if the muse’s behavior is beginning to come on too strongly, chances are that I’m fully aware of this and will most likely show it via tags!

Tag Commentary --- you are absolutely free to not provide OOC commentary in the tags, especially if you are an IC blog. This just helps show who I am as a mun!

Level of Investment = Thread Priorities & Muse Activity

I, unfortunately, am inspirationally-driven when it comes to my musings, and can therefore be selective with my activity or drop threads I’m unable to continue having a musing for. However, this does not mean I have anything against you, it’s just how my fuel for RPing works.

Still, I do my best to answer all my threads, so please be patient and understanding with me! Thanks!

IMPORTANT NOTE: by default, I will always assume that threads with me are the lowest priority and can/will eventually dropped at any time by you.

All in all, so long as we keep to our own lanes instead of actively pursuing the other on behalf of our differences in beliefs, there will be no problems. RPing is meant to be a fun, creative and laid-back FICTIONAL environment that is meant to be kept separately from reality.

Regarding Asks & IMs

IC & OOC Asks outside of inbox memes are allowed!

If sent anonymously for side-blog reasons, tag your blog and it will be re-tagged for notification purposes!

ex: ((@nameofrpsidebloghere))

If responding to an ask-response, please post it in a new text post by tagging the blog name and adding a link to the ask-response!

ask-response posts and even photo posts clutter the dashboard and ruin RP consistency...!

You are free to IM me for plots and reply reminders! (I’m a really lenient, GWF/go-with-flow RPer)

IMPORTANT NOTE: I’m pretty asocial, so more often than not I tend to forget about replying to IMs especially if there’s no need for it (like an end to the conversation topic). but, don’t worry, it’s not you! you aren’t annoying me! it’s just me being an asocial moron. ( ◉◞౪◟◉) you are in the safe zone, friend!

That aside, when in doubt, just ask! I’m totally cool with it, and always want to make sure the both of us are having a fun, comfortable time RP/interacting IC with each other! Do also remember that you are always, always able to just unfollow me, even softblock me if you have to (though I’d appreciate a direct notification/explanation for the first time I address the softblock if that ever occurs...!).

Were you able to read up to this point for the RP standards/rules? Then feel free to let me know by sending ‘whispers among psithurism’ in the ask (you aren’t required to, though)! Thanks for taking time to read this! Happy RPing!