#i'm falling down the rabbit hole for these two help

[every-aj-needs-an-angel]

Someone come with me on this Modern British Musician Steddie AU journey

Because

This Eddie

And this Steve

Y'all

[titania-sleeps]

Submissive Omega Yandere x Alpha Reader

hi guys it's tmr and i was able to cut down some of the words! i left out the full ver of his first heat and your first rut so that'll be a dif post

idk if i should go fully into omegaverse stuff and just give reader a dick regardless of gender (cause apparently female alphas have retractable dicks) so i'm avoiding that for now

edit: more works featuring Adonis: Adonis Rides You, First Heat

warning: nsfw, dom reader, omegaverse (heats, ruts, yknow), minors DNI pls

• Adonis and you have been fuck buddies for three years now. At first, it was out of necessity; you were both teenagers with raging hormones, and being an omega and alpha respectively meant that the two of you had a difficult time taking care of your needs on your own.

• Adonis was surprised when you proposed the idea to him in your third year of high school. The two of you were good friends by then, and you probably knew of his plight. However, his heart raced nonetheless and he wondered if you secretly had a crush on him. He wouldn't have minded if you did, since you were his type! Sadly, you made it clear to him that you weren't interested in him as a romantic partner, only as a sexual partner.

• Adonis didn't let that deter him, however. He couldn't deny that he felt a little disappointed, but he didn't think too much of it at that time. As long as he didn't fall in love with you, everything would be alright.

• Adonis fucked up. Two months into your friends w/ benefit situation with him, he'd already caught feelings. Whenever he was around you, his pulse would increase and his senses would go into overdrive. Even when the two of you weren't fucking like rabbits, his hole was dripping for you.

• Adonis cursed at himself every time he went on a date with you. (They were dates because he considered it so and he would take no other opinions.) It was especially terrible when you went shopping with him. He couldn't help himself but think about you fucking him senseless in the changing rooms. Just the thought of it alone had him squeezing his thighs, his breaths heavy.

• Adonis tried to hide it from you, but you easily noticed his rose scent growing stronger. You would pull him to the side and ask him gently if he was in heat. The worst part was that he wasn't. He was simply always like this around you.

• Adonis loved that you never asked any further questions. You would quickly take him home and tell him to strip. And strip he gladly did. He didn't have the time to prepare himself for you, but you didn't need it. In a matter of seconds, your tongue was in his hole, thrusting in and out. Your hand rubbed his rock-hard member, sliding easily with his slick. During those nights, he would cum quickly and sleep deeply, arms wrapped around your waist tightly. He would not let you leave him.

• Adonis didn't understand how you were so nonchalant. He felt silly being the only one so affected by the intimacy the two of you were supposedly sharing. He assumed that you would've bitten him already, but you were so resilient.

• Adonis tried to ignore it, and he did a really good job at doing so! Well, for about a week. He just didn't get it; he was perfect for you and you were perfect for him. Your scent intoxicated him, and he was sure that his scent affected you the same way. So why didn't you want him more?

• Adonis spent the next year grappling with his situation. It only got worse over time; just a small whiff of your scent drove his instincts insane. He needed to be bred by you, for you to mark him. He needed you to claim him, to destroy his being and rebuild him from scratch.

• Adonis had his first official heat in the middle of the day at school that same year. It came out of nowhere, and the arousal he felt was far greater than anything he'd ever experienced in the past.

• Adonis didn't bother hiding it. You were talking to your friends, but he interrupted and dragged you away by the arm, his face flushed. You were concerned, as you always were, but his eyes were clouded in need. He pushed you into the janitor's closet, locking the door behind you.

• Adonis stuck onto you in the closet, trembling. Sweat trickled down his neck, glistening against his skin. His scent was stronger than it had ever been; no longer just roses but now with a hint of lemon.

• Adonis whined, grinding against your leg. His pants were already soaking wet, the sticky liquid coating your leg. You sighed; you knew were going to miss class for the rest of the day.

• Adonis clung to you for the rest of the school year, nearly attached to your hip. You had lunch with him every day, you walked him home every day, and even your weekends were spent with him. He was so happy that you were giving him so much attention!

• Adonis suffered greatly during your last year of high school. He was so close to confessing to you, but he didn't want to lose what he already had with you. But you were glowing, your demeanor so confident and charismatic. He could see the other omegas turning their heads whenever they walked past the two of you.

• Adonis knew that if he didn't act quick, another omega would try and seduce you. He couldn't stand the thought of that, especially since he laid his eyes on you first. He would be your first and only mate. No one else.

• Adonis's heart dropped when he witnessed a small female omega confess to you under a cherry blossom tree the day of your graduation. He was planning to do that. That was supposed to be you and him.

• Adonis didn't bother trying to think when he intercepted her confession. He grabbed your arm, pressing his chest against it.

"Who is this, darling?" he had asked. The shock and hurt on her face were worth every ounce of courage it took for him to do that. She ran away, sobbing, and he was left with you and a sense of pride. No one was going to come between you and him.

• Adonis was scolded by you afterward, but he didn't care. You were his alpha, his fated mate. You didn't need any other omegas. That night, you treated him roughly, your body pressed heavily against his and your teeth baring at him.

• Adonis grinned. You were going to bite him! Surely, this was where you would finally, finally bite him. Hurry, show him what bad boys get. Show him that naughty boys get bitten, claimed against their will, and used like toys.

• Adonis was disappointed when you left the morning after, no bite marks on his body. He was being so good for you, so why didn't you claim him? Did you have someone else? Did he have to resort to murder just so you'd look solely at him?

• Adonis swore to himself that this year would be the year you bite him. This year would be your final year as fuck buddies. Next year, you two will already be mates. And if there's one thing you need to know about Adonis, it is that he mates for life.

something in me wanted to name him adonis casanova bc that would've been really funny but he's just adonis. for now.

next adonis fic is gonna be his first heat (in detail) and then maybe your first rut (also in detail),,,

-> masterlist

[amourane]

down the rabbit hole

pairing: theodore nott x reader

genre: fluff!!! just a short drabble <3

w/c: 0.6k

summary: in which it's blatantly obvious that theodore nott has fallen down the rabbit hole of love.

warnings: none!

a/n: just something short just to make sure i'm not depriving you guys c:

“Theo, Theo!” 

You stumbled past objects in your path, eager to reach your boyfriend. You climbed the steps like they were walls, holding the new book you had just received like a prized trophy. It had just arrived and your owl had just had it delivered to you. As soon as you saw the wrapping you knew what it was and it only caused an excited bubble to burst within you. The book had been one that Theo had recommended to you and since both of you had a passion for reading you just had to get it. You were nearly at his dorm now and you couldn’t contain your excitement. You pushed open the dorm door and your expression was bright and cheerful, you didn't notice that your boyfriend had company as you rattled off.

“Look look! It’s the book you were talking about the other day - Alice in Wonderland!” You never really read muggle books but your boyfriend had managed to get you into it, proclaiming that despite them being written by muggles they were surprisingly good, and now you were just as addicted. “I can’t wait to read it, Lily saw me holding it and said it was really good and that I’d totally enjoy it not to mention its cover is so pretty!”

You continued your tangent, too absorbed in what you were ranting about to your boyfriend to notice you had interrupted a conversation between his friends. Theo didn’t mind though he was also enraptured by what you were saying. If he were a cartoon character, his eyes would be hearts, gazing at you with such love. You made him so happy, and Theo loved you more than anything.

Draco and Blaise were watching their best friend and snickering behind their hands. It wasn’t unknown that Theodore Nott was so deeply in love with you and vice versa. The two of you were the power couple of the century. His three best friends watched as he somehow managed to fall deeper into the hole of love just for you. They whispered behind their palms as you jumped up and down excited for the book you had in your hands.

It was only then that you noticed that you had interrupted something and your cheeks flushed with heat and you tried to hide your face with the book.

“I’m so sorry, did I interrupt a conversation?” You asked sheepishly although you kind of already knew the answer. 

Theo shot the boys with a dirty look before turning to you and gesturing for you to sit on his lap. “You didn’t interrupt us, principessa, don’t worry.” 

He placed a kiss on your forehead and you couldn’t help the smile that grew on your face. Truth is he didn’t really remember what he was talking about to his friends because the moment you had barged in all his attention had been on you. 

Draco and Blaise held back their laughter as they knew what Theo was actually thinking. The two of them knew how much he loved you and they always made it their top priority to remind him how whipped he was for you. They understood though. Their best friend was in love and that was what love did. 

You settled comfortably on Theo’s lap, still bubbling with excitement. He wrapped his arms around you, resting his chin on your shoulder as he peeked at the book. “I can’t wait to start reading it! Should we read it together, Theo?”

He smiled, his eyes twinkling with affection. “Of course, mia cara. I’d love that.”

Draco and Blaise exchanged amused glances, already planning their next round of teasing. For now, though, they were content to watch their friend bask in the happiness that only you could bring him.

[qlossytbh]

𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐲 - 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝 𝐱 𝐛𝐚𝐮!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 after a long day working on a specific murder case, all you want is to do was fall asleep, next to your boyfriend.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 fluff fluff and more fluff, established relationship, fem reader, brief mention of insecurity (spencer’s side), general cm content

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 2.4k

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 started criminals minds and i fear this man is gonna push me down a rabbit hole. inspired on season 4 spence

𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Longs days at work were usually your favorite— unless they induced an unhealthy amount of stress on you.

Unfortunately, today had been one of those days. To start off, Hotch called you in earlier, around six in the morning, due to an emergency statement issue he needed you to put together regarding your recent Unsub. You spent all day talking to witnesses, finally being able to establish a profile for the specific serial killer the BAU was hunting down.

You were utterly exhausted. You hadn't been sleeping entirely well, being kept up by nightmares regarding the current case and since it had been an eventful day, not only were you physically tired but mentally as well. Talking about woman getting raped and murdered and left in the middle of the streets wasn’t the most soul-fueling aspect of your job.

Your body begged for a nap— So did your brain.

The Unsub was attacking woman throughout the city of New York, so the BAU team opted on staying situated at some random hotel for the remaining of the week in order to get advances on the case. The end of your shift was intended to be around seven thirty, but Hotch once again asked you to stay behind and help Prentiss and Morgan with a few files. Being the person and colleague you were, you agreed without protest.

As another crack in your neck echoed throughout your head, you began questioning if your job was actually paying you enough.

Those extra two hours felt even longer with the never ending teasing of Morgan, whom to you resembled very close the figure of a brother. Irrevocably, excruciatingly annoying, but someone you cared for deeply.

Except for right now.

It was now ten. It was dark outside as you practically dragged yourself into the hotel lobby with Morgan and Prentiss tagging along much more actively, chatting endlessly about some irrelevant topic your head couldnt entirely latch onto. The heels of your feet were pulsating and you desperately needed to close your eyes. Your back felt terribly cramped due to being hunched over for so long at your desk so it came to no one’s surprise when you grimaced as you put a hand on your lower-back.

"Back problems?” Morgan dared, voice coming dangerously close to a tease. “At your age?"

You glared back at him, sending warning signs through your piercing gaze that he should be very careful with where he stepped.

"No,” Your voice was clenched. “These stupid hotel mattresses are utter crap and I was in some weird position last night."

“What kind of positions?” Emily eyed you from the side. You looked over at her, thinking you may of heard some suggestiveness laced in her tone. You caught a familiar evil glint in her eyes and realization dawned upon you, realizing what she had meant.

Your cheeks buzzed with heat as you jumped to your own defense. “Sleeping positions!”

You cringed internally, feeling mortified and annoyed and— tired. The two of them clearly had enough hours of sleep the night before to be in a cheery enough mood to tease you.

“I’m too tired to deal with the two of you,”

"Looks like someone's past their bedtime" Derek remarked while patting your head. You scowled, swatted his hand away urgently.

"I'm not gonna even fight you on that since all I want to do right now is sleep and not hear you guys make fun of me,” Emily checked her watch and elbowed Derek’s side.

"We should probably go get some rest too," She stated, finally putting you out of your misery. She jerked her chin in the opposite direction of the lobby, which was where her and Morgan’s rooms were.

There had been some sort of room distribution problem upon arrival, leaving half of the team on the left side of the building and the others on the right.

"You need me to walk you to your room?" Morgan asked without any teasing in sight, like he was genuinely concerned.

"I think I can make it to the second floor," You shrugged. "But thanks tough guy. Reid’s probably still up waiting for me."

Emily made a face before they nodded to themselves and with one final goodbye, headed off to their respective rooms in the other direction. You turned and made your way to the elevator, body heavy with sleep. Once inside, you closed your eyes and sighed heavily, leaning against the wall behind you with a thud. Your head was pounding and your legs desperately begged you to stop moving them.

The elevator came to a stop and you pushed yourself off the wall, waiting for it to open. Once it did, the eerie setting of the empty hallways settled in. You swallowed thickly, suddenly feeling fear trickling throughout your spine. It wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling. Your job was bound to leave you with an unsettling feeling of being alone, but you weren't going to ever live down letting Morgan walk you to your room.

You hastily made your way to the door of the hotel room you shared with Spencer, slipping the keycard out your back pocket and opening the door.

Once inside, you slid off the heavy coat that hung on your shoulders and slipped it on the rack near the door. You heard the sheets shuffling in the room with a bit of urgency.

"It’s me Spence," You reassured, walking into the hallway and leaning against the wall that led towards the room.

You took in the sight in front of you and smiled happily. Satisfaction tan deep within you, knowing only you had the pleasure of seeing Spencer like this. So casually relaxed

His back was propped up against the headboard, hairs flying across his forehead showing the contrast between his usual somewhat tamed hair. He had his glasses perched upon the bridge of his nose and a book he had decided to read in his hand. Your smile was tired when he looked over at you, setting his book down.

"Hey," He started, smiling amiably. There was a familiar glow in his gaze that usually lit up when he looked at you. You sucked in a breath through your nose.

“Hi,”

“It’s late,” He said, almost as if coming to the realization of how late you had actually come back.

"Me, Prentiss and Morgan were at those files longer than expected— I'm exhausted." He patted the spot next to him.

"Then come sleep," You pushed yourself off the wall.

"I will, let me change and I'll be right with you,"

You turned grabbing your shorts and long sleeved shirt you usually slept in on the way to the bathroom. Some would debate the actual benefits of sleeping in shorts in New York winter were zero to none. Spencer had done so the first night you arrived, giving you all the reasons it wasn't beneficial and how likely you were to catch a cold. But long pants made you fidgety and caged. You hated how it felt to turn around in bed a few times and already feel the fabric getting twisted and stuck around your legs.

Besides, Spencers body temperature radiated enough heat to keep you warm, which was another beneficial reason of wearing shorts to sleep. Why avoid the cold when you had your very own personal human heater?

You looked at yourself in the mirror, failing to avoid the bags that were beginning to appear beneath your eyes. You promptly slipped off your turtleneck, sweater and jeans and put on your sleeping clothes. Once done, you left the bathroom, turning off the lights and closing the door behind you.

You reached up, pulling at the hair tie and freeing your hair from its low bun. Wordlessly, you made it to Spencers side of the bed and he innately threw the duvet cover backwards, allowing you enough space to climb in and rest yourself soundly between his legs, resting your head against his chest.

The silence that surrounded the two of you was enough to put you to sleep in that very moment. The comfortable surface of his solid chest was cozier than any mattress— even though you always unconsciously hoped you weren’t squishing him.

Spencer tossed his book onto the nightstand, slipping his glasses off his face as he quickly turned his attention to you. You placed your palms flat against his chest and rested your chin above them, allowing yourself to look up at him with a tired smile.

"Hi." You said. He reached over, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and smiling down at you with his familiar infamous dopey smile.

"Hi," He answered back, smile growing wider. "You look pretty,"

"Don't even," You groaned, not believing a single word that came from him. "You were so lucky Hotch didn't call you in after hours— or before.”

“I’m getting the sense that you’re angry with me,” There wasn’t an ounce of malice in his voice, facetiously regarding your angry look.

“I’m not angry, i’m jealous.” You explain, pouting your lips at him. “You have no idea how jealous I am of the fact that you've been lying in bed since eight,"

Although joking around, you didn’t fail to notice the traces of empathy lingering beneath his gaze. There wasn’t anything Spencer hated more than knowing you were exhausted. He let his hand linger around your face, tracing patterns on your jaw while you looked up at him with big tired eyes. "Jealous of me? Being able to lay in these mattresses?"

You let out a laugh. "How many of your muscles are cramped after last night?”

“Because of sleep or…?” He trailed, pursing his lips in thought. You groaned, placing your palm across his face to either smother him or prevent him from seeing how flustered you got. You were usually the one making vilgar jokes. It sat differently when Spencer did it, it made you more nervous.

“You’re so stupid,” He laughed underneath your palm and muttered out.

“Actually—“

“Don’t ‘actually’ me,”

Spencer’s teasing, even in your state of utter exhaustion, didn’t leave you cranky or annoyed. It never did, It always did the opposite. You became all mushy and soft when it came to Spencer and every gesture was laced in nothing more than absolute adoration.

He grew quiet as he let his thumb linger across your cheek, realizing the joke had died down. He gazed your face so lovingly, it almost hurt. You closed your eyes and basked in the comfort of his gaze.

You and Spencer had been dating for over a year now. The two of you met when you became part of the BAU not long after he had started. Your proximity in age had been the initial reason for a friendship, but then it started shifting into something beyond that and before you knew it, you started seeing him outside of work, weekends… The majority of your time was spent beside him.

You still recalled with humor how it took a while for him to make a move. It didn't take long for him to become your friend, not at all. But the second the two of you realized things were moving beyond a friendship, he forgot any notion of how to operate like a normal human being. You had found it extremely endearing realizing how much of an effect you had on him— you still did.

Slowly falling in love with each other was probably one of the most cathartic events of one another’s lives because it distinguished such a firm before and after.

Working in the FBI had always felt so loud and caotic, but ever since Spencer, the world became a little more quiet and a little less stressful.

Spencer leaned down and placed a soft kiss on your lips, savoring any and every second he could with you. You sighed happily into the kiss, realizing how all your muscles began melting into his touch.

You pulled away, pecking his lips two more times just for desperate measures.

"I missed you." He hummed, placing a small peck to your forehead before allowing his hands to travel down the side of your ribcage and onto your back.

You crooned lowly, letting your eyes flutter close as you let him trace small patterns onto your back with his fingertips. Your body erupted in a string of goosebumps, feeling nothing but overwhelming pleasure seep into every muscle and joint in your body. The jolts of electricity seeped through your spine. It made your heart flutter and swell, feeling how light his fingers danced across your skin and how gentle he was with you.

It had taken a lot for Spencer to open up to physical touch, so that being said, all these small gestures from him were all the more special.

You knew there was a side of him that loved being connected to you through any sort of physical contact, wether it be holding his hands, a kiss on the cheek, linking your arms together, saying hi in the morning with a hug or a soft peck. His insecurities in the beginning of the relationship prevented him from letting that side show.

With time and patience, and lots of reassurance on your side, physical contact with you began nearly as necessary as breathing to Spencer.

Spencer always enjoyed giving you back scratches. He loved how your body immediately fell into his when he dragged his fingers along your back. Like he could physically see the knots of stress unfold. He sometimes grabbed your arm to himself and traced patterns across while you were watching movies or when you woke up.

There won’t be a day he forgets to greet you at your desk before heading to his own, despite always trying to avoid being seen by Morgan, who’d typically tease him endlessly.

Nevertheless, he’d still always bend over your slouched position at your desk chair in the morning and say hi. He’ll let his hand linger on your back and trace repetitive circles. Even if it was just thirty seconds, your body responded incredibly well to his soft touches.

Spencer was extremely good at reading you, and he responded to your needs in a way no one else had ever managed. Seeing just how close to collapsing you had been when you got to the room, he desperately wanted to draw circles onto your back until you fell asleep.

And god, were his back scratches just what you needed.

Right now, with his hands trailing around your tired body and aching back, you could practically hear yourself purring. His hand travelled along your shirt, reaching the hem and peeking his hand underneath it in order to feel the smoothness of your skin— that and knowing you loved it even more.

When he felt your body deflate he chuckled softly to himself. You mumbled quietly, sighing contently. “Hmm,”

"Did you know that when someone cratches your back, your brain releases Serotonin?" He started. You looked up at him with a sleep induced smile as his hand continued traveling along your back.

"No, I did not."

"It's a neurotransmitter that promotes positive feelings. Our skin is abundant with sensory receptors which are called mechanoreceptors. When stimulated, specifically by human touch, they send signals to the brain which triggers pleasurable sensations. It's kind of like a light therapeutic touch, some people even call it scratch therapy." His hands traveled mindlessly, along with his words down at you.

"Its primary purpose is to enhance one's mood for the better since it mainly releases endorphins and serotonin, hormones that tend to fight off cortisol. It's also said to relieve muscle tension, since the repetitive motion stimulates the natural release of these mood-boosting hormones. Your muscles respond and alleviate all the discomfort and stiffness on their own."

"Most importantly, it mimics gestures of affection and care. This specific type of touch motivates a sense of connection which can foster trust and bonding. Most people turn to this form of therapy because of how soothing the sensation can be both mentally and physically." He expounded as you watched him with nothing more than complete awe.

Spencer rambling about anything and every topic you could bring up was your favorite thing about him,— other than his smile.

Unlike many people who knew him, you actually listened and soaked up every single word he said. Hell, you learned more with him in the past year than the first five years of your adulthood.

"So thats why you always scratch my back, huh?" You pointed a finger at him and he smiled.

"That and because I love you,"

"I love you— And when you go all wikipedia on me," You kissed the corner of his jaw and positioned yourself sound against his chest. One of his arms held you against his chest while the other continued its repetitive patters. "Don't you dare stop with this scratch therapy stuff, I was just starting to feel sleepy,”

He kissed the crown of your head as you rested . "Wasn’t planning on it.”

[jibunbosh]

Mesmerizer is a satire of TikTok, YouTube Shorts, and the rest of the modern short-form vertical video format

A brief thematic analysis.

I'm sure there are countless people already interpreting the imagery and details in this wonderful song & MV, like here and here, so I won't spend too much time retreading that ground. Miku and Teto are dancing. Miku gets hypnotized. Teto signals for help, but gets hypnotized at the end as well.

That part is obvious enough, but that's still pretty surface-level. What is this seemingly hyperspatial horror scenario supposed to mean to us?

While checking to see if anyone before me's already come to the same conclusions as I did and if I should bother not writing this text post at all (lol), I came across udin's great analysis video. She comes to the conclusion that the song tackles themes of disillusionment with reality and the ways we indulge in escapism to relieve ourselves of the pains of the world.

I agree with that reading! From practically the very beginning, we have Miku call to us - the viewer - to push away our true feelings. Teto comes in to peddle a solution, inviting us to surrender and empty our minds - in her words, "pretending to know nothing."

You, the viewer, are a critical character in this masquerade. For nearly the entire video, Miku and Teto's eyes are unfailingly trained on you. Or, well... perhaps they can't actually see you, but they can see a camera, or whatever other aperture the point of view is supposed to be from. And they know they're being watched. (Who else would Teto be sending distress signals to?)

Let's put a pin on that for later.

udin notes very early on that Miku and Teto are, conspicuously, kept in vertical frames - very similar to the video formats of TikTok (and Instagram Reels, and YouTube Shorts, and whatever other clones of the format exist.) You know, just like the animator Caststation's Rabbit Hole fan MV that went viral some months ago.

Hey wouldn't it be crazy if the song's producer, 32ki, released Mesmerizer shorts too haha. Wouldn't that be crazy.

Wow, wild.

These short-term vertical videos are captivating & alluring. If you're reading this, it's more likely than not that you've also found yourself caught up in them at least once, scrolling through the infinite algorithmic slurry and forgetting about the real-life issues you have at hand. Would you say, then, that you felt hypnotized? Mesmerized, even?

And so these two invite us to join their world and focus on the... uh... rectangle.

Their dances are repetitive, following the same loop. Their outfits are distinct, but their choreography isn't. They're copying the same formula, repeating it ad nauseam to the best of their ability.

They're doing a fucking TikTok dance.

Back to the pin I told you about earlier, with Miku and Teto looking at a camera.

Miku sways with the camera, eyes looking directly at it like a swinging pocket watch. She's been looking at it the entire time, after all. We've been seeing her via our screen this entire time, but, again, she doesn't necessarily see us. She's beholden to the camera, which she dances for day after day, caught up in its spell. She's hypnotized by it. Eventually, she breaks.

Teto, on the other hand, resists. For a while, anyway.

Despite her being the one jumping to us with the "solution" at the beginning of the MV, there's very quickly good reason to question how much agency she has in this. She dances for the camera as well, but she doesn't want to. She's signalling for help. She wants out.

Many content creators (as much as I personally loathe the non-specificity and soullessness of the term) have struggled with the adaptation to the short-form video format, and the preference the algorithm has had for these captivating, bite-sized videos. They're catchy, and easily drive up metrics. Practically anyone who's publishing their work via video format online needs to learn to adapt or fall behind, even if that means whittling their content down to fit the frame, the time, and people's shortening attention spans. Sometimes, that means compromising on specificity and completeness... or, in other words, the true representation of a full work.

The song's writer, 32ki, has been releasing songs on YouTube for several years. Their first YouTube Short, however, was posted only a year ago: a short, whittled-down segment of their previous song, CIRCUS PANIC!!!, hoping for it to win the ProsekaNEXT song contest. It was their first song to achieve widespread popularity and hit a million views.

The shorts, however, aren't the "true" versions of the song. The full song just won't fit.

We're being mesmerized as consumers of this endless stream of content, rather than appreciators of music and art. However, that relationship isn't completely symmetrical across the plane that is the 4th wall. Miku and Teto are trapped not by their attention spans, but by a compulsion to project their "truthful acting" and peddle that window into a colorful, problem-free world.

We, as the collective audience, need not dwell on any one thing for too long - we need only swipe, and move on to the next video. However, Miku and Teto are trapped behind the screen for eternity, day after day.

They're the only characters we get to see, of course. There's no evil 3rd voice synth character that's plotting to keep them trapped in there. We can't put a face to whatever force is hypnotizing them and trapping them behind the screen. It's faceless - like the inscrutable algorithms of YouTube recommendations or the TikTok For You page, or the impersonal corporations that develop & maintain those aforementioned apps. Miku and Teto's likenesses, on the other hand, are being exploited and extracted from for their entertainment value, being strung along by that metaphorical hypnotizing force like puppets on a string.

Many people, represented by Miku, enjoy their success on such platforms. It's freeing and liberating to throw oneself wholeheartedly into such an endeavor, of course! Others, represented by Teto, harbor their doubts of the emotional veracity of such a medium, but know they have little choice lest they face destruction... perhaps not literally as a person, but as an idea.

Wouldn't it be easier just to let oneself be swept away by it and give in?

[naffeclipse]

Charm Brought It Back Pt. 3

Reader x Witches!Sun, Moon, & Eclipse

Commission Info

The lovely @pure-plum request a third part to @jackofallrabbits's and my Hocus Pocus AU! I'm so excited to share this next installment. The witch boys are far from done with the little historian and Michael has some explaining to do. Sun needs to share some vows and Eclipse tries to explain some things on the roof of Michael's home. Enjoy!

Content Warning: Suggestive themes, heavy kissing, heavy touching, injury, blood, violence, fire, (temporary) animal death and (temporary) character death.

———

On the outskirts of town, where the buildings and the suburban life thins into winding roads and wild, pale orange and deep red trees, is Michael’s home. He lumbers towards it like a creature from a 1950s movie.

Weaving between your footsteps is Vanessa, the talking rabbit. Her ears stay pricked and her wide, green eyes scan the starry skies constantly—blades of dead grass stick to the legs of your pants. Holes decorate your sweater, and your breathing has yet to level into something less frightening by the night's events.

You close your eyes for a brief moment to contain all the terror within you, but you almost trip on the dark pavement of the road. Michael reaches out to steady you with a rotten hand. Straightening quickly before giving him a glance of reassurance that you're alright, you nod. You stare at the putrid flesh of his fingers. Your stomach twists.

His dark eyes, alit only with twin, pale pricks of light, linger upon you. The weight is unbearable.

You’re not walking much better than the cursed, rotting man with a broken leg. When you asked him if it hurts, he said no. He can’t feel much of anything. You almost burst into tears, but he told you to keep going. It’ll be alright. 

You don’t know what to think anymore.

“There, up ahead,” Michael's voice churns with gravel. He gestures with a putrid arm. “My house. We’ll be safe there.”

It’s a bonte-white structure, a touch old considering the peeling paint on the outside as well as the overflowing garden of lavender—but you understand now why the flora flourishes on the grounds. 

Two stories tall, the roof slants over the attic. On top, a cupola framed in square panes of glass gives a small sense of safety, like a lighthouse on a cliff overlooking a stormy sea. The dark shingles slope down over the upper-level windows. 

“Do you know where Afton’s home is?” Vanessa speaks, and it almost startles you out of your wits. Her small, fuzzy head turns towards him while he reaches the front gate and shoves it open. You follow in afterward.

Your brow crinkles. When Michael first approached you, inquiring history of some genealogy he was doing on his family, you did point out a few historical buildings and locations within town. He said he needed your research for… personal reasons.

“I do, thanks to our friend,” he gestures to you. 

Vanessa flatly says, “The virgin.”

You cringe as the rabbit hops onto the porch. Michael stops before the cement steps with a quiet growl.

“Don’t say that.” He turns to you. “Can you help me up? I’m sorry, I smell like death.”

“It’s okay,” you smile, then immediately grimace at the stretch while you take his arm. “It’s not… going to fall off if I tug you up, right?”

His dark hair falls across his forehead while he shrugs. “I hope not.”

With that cheerful reassurance, you hook his elbow. Shadowing his step, you help him lift his bad leg onto the step, and pull the rest of his body afterward. Repeating the motions, you fall into a natural rhythm by the time you reach the front door. All the while, your mind whirls at Michael’s current condition while the rabbit waits impatiently at the door and the bizarre events since you lit the starry candle. 

“You didn’t tell me…” you say softly but fall short. You don’t want it to be an accusation, but you want to know. “You didn’t tell me about the brothers.”

He turns his face towards you. The clogging scent of decay infiltrates your nostril and you’re forced to cough to clear it away. Spying the yellowed cusps of his molars between threads of his cheek flesh conjures a sickness in your middle. His half-rotten lips press together into a thin line.

“It’s hard to approach someone with ‘Hey, I’m a witch hunter, just like my great ancestor who hung witches.’”

“Michael,” you chide.

“I warned you,” he says.

“I know.” You shake your head. Reaching out, you grab the door handle and push it open. “We need to brace your leg. Just because you don’t feel hurt doesn’t mean you aren’t.”

“Cursed,” he corrects quietly. “Not hurt. It could have been worse.”

His eyes drift to Vanessa, who stands guard for one moment, staring out into the darkness, before he returns his attention to you.

“I can still do things, though I wouldn’t want to be caught by the witches. They would torture me for eternity if they had it their way, I’m certain,” he drips derision.

A dark fist squeezes your heart. Heavy and pained, you guide Michael into his home. You’ve been in here once or twice, advising him in his research since he asked for your help. It was fun. You like talking about the town’s history how many historical homes are still maintained in the area and what significant events took place on what are now random fields or paved parking lots.

“Do you have some wood boards or planks we can use for a splint?” You ease Michael onto a blue couch, ripping slightly at the seams along the arms. The pale wood coffee table is overrun with books, an assortment of old and dark pages worn by time. You’re tempted to flip through titles, but fear keeps you on track. Michael might dissolve into dust and bones right before your eyes. 

“Yeah, under the sink. I have medical supplies in there.” Michael nonchalantly grabs his ripped jeans leg by the knee and hauls his broken leg up to prop it across the coffee table. A part of you squirms to see the unnatural bend in his shin bone, the leg all but collapsing. He continues without missing a beat, “Don’t worry about cleaning the wound or painkillers.”

“O-okay.” You sound far away. Those aspects are important to treating any injured person but what rules apply to a cursed man? Dizziness circles your skull as you stumble into the kitchen. A few dirty mugs are left in the sink. Rummaging underneath it, you find a black tote filled with medical supplies, a suspiciously, well-prepared assortment from bandages to antibacterial ointments. Needles for sutures wink up at you. Wooden stints wait as if expecting you.

Why does Michael have so much emergency aid prepared? It would be nice to think of Michael as simply a man who is well-prepared for the worst, but after tonight, how can you believe that? He’s a witch hunter in the modern day. 

There’s so much you don’t understand. 

Picking up the entire tote, your questions follow you back into the living room. Vanessa sits on her haunches on the coffee table, her fur still caked with streaks of dirt as she examines Michael’s broken leg. He straightens on the couch as best as he can when you kneel beside his wounded leg.

Following Michael’s instructions, you set the splints around the limb, up his knee, and over the top of his shoes. 

“Ties,” Michael says, “right here.” He leans over and fishes through the tote until he finds dark cords. 

You tie it carefully. You don’t want it too tight or else it could cut off blood circulation—if that is still functioning within his walking corpse. Dismissing the idea, you shudder and finish off the knot. 

“Do you have salt? More charms?” Vanessa asks, her attention upon Michael.

“I do. Weapons too,” he says.

“Wait.” You straighten, stepping back to gaze at both of them. This is not a normal conversation. This is not a normal get-together with a zombie and a rabbit—you need answers. Now.

“What is it?” Vanessa asks, her little rabbit face perturbed by your behavior.

“What is going on? No one has given me a straight answer all night.” You cross your arms, clutching at the torn sleeves of your sweaters. 

Michael and Vanessa share a glance as if they’ve known each other far longer than just this evening. Isolation settles upon you.

Michael faces you, testing the splints to see how well they hold. They remain rigid around the broken limb.

“The brothers are witches. They’re very real, and they’re very dangerous,” he says, his dark, sunken eyes holding your gaze. “My ancestor, William Afton, was a witch hunter. He hanged them for their crimes.”

“They were supposed to stay dead.” Vanessa’s voice lowers. Shame and hatred mingle into a chord under her tone. “I was there the day the brothers were hanged. I was the one who led Afton, my master, right to their home. For that, the brothers cursed me with immortality and this wretched body.”

Her ears flick. A heaviness settles over your chest, and your breath quickens into a shallow, desperate rhythm.

“You mean… all this time?” you whisper. 

Vanessa stares at you. Her green eyes are unreadable.

“All this time, I guarded the starry candle. Until you came along,” she seethes for one brief moment.

“Vanessa,” Michael’s voice cuts over her. “Don’t… I shouldn’t have let anyone go there, much less alone.”

“There’s the ceremony we must worry about,” she jumps in place, twisting to face him. “We must only wait them out until dawn, and they will return to their graves.”

Your head spins. The witches who spun you around and purred in your ear have wrecked so much havoc, even after their demises. You turn away.

Michael calls out your name.

“Do you have a shirt I can borrow?” you ask, not looking back at him. Your fingers knot ceaselessly into the fabric of your sweater, widening the holes further. 

“Of course.” Michaels’ voice softens. “Up the stairs, in the attic. Take whatever shirt you want. There’s something else we need to tell you, though. Can you wait a moment?”

“No,” you whisper, then shake your head, “Just… Just give me one minute, okay?”

You don’t wait for an answer as you step out of the room. Hurrying up the stairway that leads to the attic, you hear a hushed exchange. The rabbit harshly wonders if it’s wise to let you leave. You hurry up the steps.

The landing is open, sprawling with chests shoved against walls and a dusty desk left beside a window overlooking the garden sprawling with lavenders down below. A sack of wooden and leather charms sits near the top of the stairs. Across the room, a bed sits with a thick, brown quilt depicting yellow and orange flowers in geometric patterns over the cover. Does Michael sleep up here?

You venture forward, finding a closet with bi-folding doors. You nervously touch your fingers to the handle. Michael said it was alright, but somehow, this feels like an invasion of privacy. A little funny, considering you don’t know as much about your friend as you thought. 

Sliding one open, you find a few shirts hanging. Plaids and button-ups and pullovers, all with the faint hint of Michael’s musky, woody scent. You reach for a fisherman’s sweater, green and thickly textured. Lifting the hook off of the rack, you gingerly handle it with grimy fingers. You make a quiet sound of equal disgust and annoyance at yourself.

Look at you. You’re a mess. You went to explore a historical home and brought three witches back to life. Michael and Vanessa know who the brothers are and the brothers have seemingly claimed you as an intricate piece in a ceremony you have yet to understand.

You should listen to what the witch hunter and cursed rabbit woman have to say. Learning more and diving deep into the past has never been a feat you’ve shrunk away from, but you feel so strange. Confused. 

Phantoms of Eclipse’s hands slip underneath your sweater. Moon’s vows circle your head in a chant, spell-binding and complete. Your stomach burns with the memory of Sun pulling you onto his lap and flying off. 

This should be simple, like a fable. The witches must be defeated and the village saved. Historically, however, witches were only innocents. They were victims of powerful people and scapegoats for natural disasters and widespread sickness. They weren’t luring children away into the house of candy. They were simply practicing an art or culture that so few understood.

A gentle stroke of pity fills you when you think of the brothers and their hangings. Were they truly so evil they deserved to die?

You hear a soft creak of wood just above your head. Your eyes lift to the ceiling. The home is old. It’s bound to groan and settle in around you. Though your heart briefly knocks against your ribs, you clutch at your holey sweater and remember what you’re doing.

Michael and Vanessa are waiting for you. There’s more you don’t understand, and you have to face it. You lower your shoulders and close your eyes, then shiver.

A cool draft ghosts through the room. You turn, dropping the red sweater on the bed. Curiously, your eyes roam the windows, searching for which one hangs open—and why you didn’t feel a breeze before.

A spiral staircase leads up into the cupola. You peer skyward into the black, starry darkness through frames of wood. One of the glass panes is slightly ajar, pushed in, and left precariously loose. A chill slips against your skin through the holes of your sweater.

Was that always open?

Your spine tingles; the sensation of no longer being alone. 

“Hello, sunshine,” a cheerful, dripping voice slips into your ear from behind you.

Sun.

You inhale sharply. Before you can scream, a hand clamps over your mouth. An arm, lithe and solid as iron, wraps around your waist. The witch lifts you off your feet. Struggling, you claw at the hands holding you. Panic surges into your veins as you’re carried across the room and then twisted around to face your abductor. Without his warm, dark palm leaving your lips, Sun pins you onto the bed. You gaze up at him, eyes wide as he grins devilishly. He immediately slots his knees on the other side of your legs, hovering above you like a dark red sunrise, securing you in place.

A quiver runs through you. Your middle returns with a familiar warmth while you roam over his visage. His wide, pale eyes greedily devour you. His other hand softly pets your collarbone, hooking the collar of your shirt to expose more skin.

“There you are.” His thumb softly swipes your cheek without giving you room to speak. “I feared the fool rabbit and the rotten witch hunter spirited you away from us. No need to fear, my darling. We’ve come back for you.”

You whine underneath his palm. His grin widens as if he finds your little muffled sounds adorable. Sharp teeth glint in the near darkness of the attic.

Squirming, you grab at the edge of the bed and attempt to pull yourself out from under him. Sun clicks his tongue in disapproval.

“Ah, ah, ah, my dove! I haven’t gotten a kiss from you yet.” He shakes his head with great sorrow. “Don’t you want to hear my vows?”

He snatches your wrists, one by one, and shackles them in his one fist. He lifts them over your head and holds them against the headboard. Your heart thunders at how easily he contains you. Yet, you twist and flutter at him so close. A scent of honey and wildflowers falls from his cloak, sweet and intimate. You gaze up at him, little more than a fly caught in a spider’s web.

“It’s truly breaking my heart,” he feigns dramatically slumping. “My eldest brother has the pleasure of knowing the taste of your lips, and my twin has spoken his vows to you, but what of me? What am I supposed to do but die of heartbreak?”

He leans closer. Your eyes dart to his mouth and back to his gaze, holding you in a feverish, boiling want. A swipe of his tongue wets his teeth. A heat floods your cheeks.

“Shhh, sunshine. I’ll remove my hand so long as you’re good.”

You weakly nod. Your jaw trembles under his palm before the witch spears you with one last warning. His grin, however, grows. His hand lifts away and frees your mouth. Nervously, you lick at your lips while he studies the movement with pleasure staining his expression.

His hand falls, his dark satin fingertips flowing down your chin before ghosting over the sensitive cords of your throat. As if painting with his hands, he follows the curve of your collarbones. You wince when his claws cut through your poor sweater as he warms your chilled body with his palm pressed against your shoulder.

“Will you allow me the honor of becoming your husband?” He holds your gaze. 

Your breath slows as his hand falls to your side and begins softly caressing you through a notable tear in the knitwear of your shirt. A shiver spreads across your body from his touch. He tilts his head, his sun rays cutting through the darkness in a peacock-like twirl.

“Will you allow me to worship you endlessly, to be at your beck and call, to endure curses and terrors, and to witness blooming gardens and bright days by your side?” He sighs so sweetly as if he can’t stand the thought of stalling a moment more. “I’m afraid you are simply too lovely. Let me show you my devotion, then you may say ‘I do.’”

A tender pang in your heart ripples through you. Gazing into his pale, wide eyes, you fall into them. Would someone so evil have so much good to say? Would he ask for your hand in marriage if he truly meant harm?

“Sunshine?” Sun purrs gently. “It’s alright. You can speak your vows later.”

“Wait,” you whisper. Your gut twists as you think of Michael and Vanessa. Your friends are cursed, and they have the power to undo it. “Michael and Vanessa are suffering. Can’t you remove the curse placed upon them?”

Sun’s mouth pulls taut into a razor-sharp grin, but he doesn’t truly smile. Your stomach clenches with dread.

“How sweet to think the enemies of my brothers and I deserve mercy.” He withdraws his hand from the hole in your sweater and slips down to the hem slipping up your waist. His thumb slides over your hip bone. Softly, he begins circling it and you must bite your bottom lip to keep from gasping at how gentle his touch is. 

“Please,” you say quietly. You curl your fingers, still trapped under Sun’s grip. “I can’t say what you want me to say until Michael and Vanessa are free.”

“Hm,” he hums, the sound rolling deep in his chest, “A great gift to demand as our bride. Why don’t we speak of something else? Something more delicious.”

Your lips part as he leans down. His face is mere inches from your own, and you feel a buzz upon your mouth in anticipation. Shyly, a pink blush fills your face.

He draws his hand from your hip and takes your chin in his hand. His thumb gently brushes your bottom lip, holding you in place.

“You have the most beautiful freckles,” he murmurs, eyes half-lidded and sultry. “Your lips are like roses. Won’t you let me stain myself in them?”

“Sun.” You want to turn your face away, but he’s so close. You can smell the sweetness of his person, and your core becomes molten. 

His mouth finds yours, and heated light falls over you. You fall utterly still under his gentle and smooth, practiced motion. Pushing and pulling, like steps to a dance, he kisses you. His tongue softly swipes at the seam of your lips, asking for entry. A mewl catches in the back of your throat. Insistent but gentle, Sun’s tongue finds its way past your teeth. The molten heat within you becomes lava, volcanic, and you are filled with his feverish desire to love you.

His grip softly flexes against your waist and wrists. Your back arches slightly, and his hand slips underneath you to support your spine. He draws you flush against him. Your sweater rides up, and you feel the soft fabric of his billowy shirt and the smooth, marbledness of his torso. A great fluttering erupts within your chest. Dizzy and struck by his full attention, you are molded by the sheer heat of his affection.

You’ve never felt such love before.

His tongue caresses your own before he draws it slowly out of your mouth. A stretch of spit follows before it snaps. He breaks the kiss, leaving you cold. You whine, afraid to never have such a connection again. You fall back to the mattress but Sun’s hand splayed over your back refuses to let you go, and you remain fast against his body.

He chuckles. “You are so sweet and precious. I have had lovers before, but you are the one who will stay with me. You are mine.”

You breathe out heavily. Your chest is gooey and warm, and your heart beats to a fiery tempo. 

“It’s alright,” he speaks in a low growl, passionate and terrifying, “Accept my vows, and I will love you for eternity. I will give you my heart on a silver platter. I will be your undying servant. I will dance with you every dawn. Sunshine, say ‘I do.’”

It’s on the tip of your wet lips. The words. The one phrase that will somehow evoke magic and time and fate, and make you entirely his.

“Oh, Sun,” you breathe, shaking your head.

Would it be wrong? Couldn’t you show him that he has too many curses? There are other ways he and his brothers can use their magic, right? They don’t have to be like this again.

“One more kiss,” he breathes against your cheek, fingers curling against the dimples of your spine before he bows over you. Your breath catches at the touch of his lips—

Footsteps thunk, slow and uneven, up the stairs. Michael's voice calls out to you, gently, but the undertone of concern does not miss your ears. The splint is working. The quick scurry of little claws scrabbling upwards echoes towards you and the witch about to kiss you.

Sun snarls silently. 

You clench your hands.

“Don’t hurt them,” you whisper, “Please.”

He levels you with a look, a glint of a blade-like calculation.

Rising, Sun pulls you after him in a whisking motion. Your vision spins as your hands fly down to cling to his shoulders. Taking your hips, Sun secures you against him, glaring daggers at the steps leading into the attic room before Michael’s purple face emerges, then widens in alarm and fury. Vanessa bound inwards and jerks to a stop, stunned. 

Sun cackles as he skips you backward in a dizzying, near glide upwards to the cupola. 

“Go and rot elsewhere, witch hunter!” he calls out. You clutch at his arms as he pulls you towards the askew window pane. The night breeze causes your hair to flutter around you. Sun grips you tighter, bowing close and protective over you. “It’s a beautiful night for a wedding, don’t you think?”

“No!” Michael shouts your name, stumbling forward at a break-neck speed. Vanessa scrambles up the thin, narrow steps with bounding legs.

Before you can cry out, Sun bends in half, forcing you down with him as he sticks one leg out of the window, and in one smooth motion, taking you in his arms like it’s your wedding night, he slides you out of the window and onto the roof of Michael’s home. You catch the last fleeting glimpses of Michael and Vanessa, both slapped with horror.

Sun extends his hand. With a hushed but fierce chant, magic heats the air. The little hairs on your arms prickle with a sizzling sensation as Sun casts a spell from his lips. The glass becomes molten, shining orange and taffy-like as it remains stuck within its frames, and then with one more word, Sun changes the glass once more. It warps and expands, becoming almost triple in thickness. 

You catch the sight of Michael throwing himself up the stairs. A warning flies from your lips. Whether he can’t hear you or he can’t stop himself if he wants to or not, he flies into the glass. He bounces off of it as if it were a steel wall. He hits the other end of the cupola, almost falling down the steps before he catches himself.

You gasp sharply. Clinging to the shoulders of Sun’s cloak, he purrs in delight as he slips carefully down the old, faded shingles.

“It’s alright, sunshine.” He pecks your cheek as the sloped roof descends to a dangerous lip with only the gutter acting as a barrier between you and a 20-foot drop. “Eclipse should have cursed the witch hunter into a rabbit. A yellow one with purple eyes. I would have let you keep him as a pet. Vanessa, too, if you ask nicely.”

“Don’t drop me!” your voice rises shrilly as you tuck your face against his neck. “Please.”

“Oh, I’ve received enough lectures from my brothers,” he laughs, then presses close to your cheek, contrite. “Please, forgive me, my darling. My excitement overtook me. I merely had to have you—and our vows still haven’t been exchanged!”

He steps over one of the windows, taking you to the south-facing side of the house, away from the window you both emerged from. Sun is light and graceful as he crosses the dizzying slopes of the roof. 

“The bride returns,” a familiar voice crones. Eclipse.

Lifting your head, you start as Sun slips towards the very lip of the roof. There, floating right in the open air, dozens of feet above the lavender garden, is Eclipse. Moon perches on an arch upon the roof with a disgruntled expression twisting his face while he strokes the warm, honeyed wood of Sun’s broom.

“I’m surprised you didn’t drop our bride once more,” Moon drips with venom. You gaze at him, remembering how he pinned you to the mausoleum wall. A bubbling roil returns to your middle.

“Silence, brother,” Sun growls, “You had your chance to exchange vows and you lost it to a fool imp and a vermin!”

Moon’s red eyes soften upon you when your gazes meet.

“Hello, little mouse. We almost lost you.”

“Moon,” you say softly, blinking against the starlight.

“Come here, little comet.” Eclipse opens his arms out to you. You openly stare. With ease, he balances upon the slender reddish-brown wood of his broom, his cape descending around him like wings. His grin is sharp and earnest, all at once. “We must make haste.”

“Wait, wait,” you try to shake your head but Sun passes you easily onto Eclipse’s lap as if you were mere feathers. 

“Sun?” Eclipse looks to his brother.

“No, I didn’t get vows in return,” he huffs, “the nasty witch hunter has a habit of interrupting private engagements.”

“I thought so.” Eclipse faces you. You sit securely upon his lap. His black cloak drapes slightly over your legs in the manner of a warm blanket. He gently takes your chin in his hand. You are still at the slight trace of his other circling your waist and securing you close. “You need to perform the ceremony with us.”

“Why? Why is it so important I perform the ceremony with you?” you ask softly. The cool air sends a chill down your back. Eclipse frowns before he hugs you close to his chest, sheltering you from the elements.

For a beat, he is silent. He strokes your arm with the back of his hand in slow, tender motions. Your eyelids flutter under such gentleness.

The sound of glass cracking jabs into the air, muffled but distant. A sharp growl echoes from Moon and Sun. You try to twist back to see if Michael is emerging onto the roof but Eclipse hums sharply, regaining your attention.

“It’s important because of you,” he answers gravely but with no less affection. “I have waited a whole life and death for you. As have my dear brothers. Sunrise will be here soon.”

“Sunrise?” you ask, confused. You’ve heard them tell of the bells ringing for them at dawn. “What does that mean then?”

Eclipse cups your face, forcing your attention upon him despite the rush of footsteps scrambling over the roof, and the harsh breaths and sharp curses.

“You love us, don’t you?”

Your lips part breathlessly. His eyes hold you in molten gold, and you become unbalanced once more.

Do you?

Can you marry these strange and handsome witches the very night you brought them back from their graves?

He drops his touch from your mouth and softly caresses the back of your hand. He looks down at it, admiring the small hills of your knuckles and the softness of your skin.

“We don’t have long,” he says. “We have already devoted our hearts to you, little comet. You have the power to—”

“LET THEM GO!” Michael shouts.

Eclipse’s head snaps back to the roof. Sun and Moon are clawing over the singles, the former giving chase after Michael. Shards of glass stick out of the sleeve of his torn shirt, embedded into his flesh; he seems to ignore the wounds entirely. Moon snatches a white rabbit rushing over the arch of the roof with a swipe of his claws. A sharp squeak of pain echoes from Vanessa. Holding up his catch like a fox with his meal, the witch cackles. 

You startle and start to wiggle desperately off of Eclipse’s lap. 

“Please!” You extend a hand towards Sun and Moon. “Don’t hurt them!”

Eclipse begins to wrap both arms tight around you, despite your struggle. Michael recklessly charges down the slope of the roof and reaches deep into his pocket. Producing pale lavender petals, he tosses them like confetti into the air just as Eclipse curses, then shrieks as the petals fall over you both like rice at a wedding.

“No! We’re running out of time!” Eclipse shrieks as he rapidly swipes at his person, removing the petals with a pained expression, but his golden eyes hold you captive. “My bride.”

You sadly shake your head. A dark mouth swallows your heart in a twisting torment: to stay or to leave. To forsake your friends or to give in to your suitors. 

On a nameless fear, you turn back to the roof and fling yourself off of Eclipse’s lap. His claws swipe at your sweater, ripping a tear into the back of it but you managed to land on the lip of the roof. The gutter buckles. You scream. Michael yanks you by the collar of your almost-ruined shirt and drags you up the roof. Sun cuts into his path.

“Nasty little corpse,” Sun snarls, “I’ll teach you to stay dead.”

“Sun, don’t!” Your eyes widen.

His pale eyes flash to you, his wicked grin easing. In the brief moment of Sun’s distraction, Michael squeezes several petals and a charm in his fist. The lethal design flashes in the starlight. Michael hurls the charm and the few petals left. When the charm hits Sun’s chest, a sharp sizzle echoes. The witch yelps, writhing as you fear a searing of flesh before he manages to fling it off of him. Sun is left clawing at where a mark burns through the fabric of his shirt.

Up the roof, Michael scrambles, towing you after him, trying as you might to look back at Sun in your worry. You reach a hand out towards the witch. He stops in his writhing to look back, but Michael pulls you faster until your feet almost give out from underneath you. Across a peak in the roof, Michael zeros in on Sun’s broom.

“Michael,” you say, but he is already striding towards it. Using his un-splinted leg, he brings his boot down hard on the broom until it snaps and cracks in half.

“Afton!” Sun howls, “I’ll make you pay!”

You hear a sharp snarl from across the roof. You face Moon clutching Vanessa as he begins the mutterings of a curse. Vanessa is kicking with her hind legs and writhing. His black claws wrap around her dirty white fur before she manages to twist and sink her teeth into his hand. A growl, pain-filled and brimming with loathing, echoes before he hurls her away from him. Vanessa falls down the roof and over the edge.

“Vanessa!” you scream out.

“She’s fine, she’s fine,” Michael utters, dragging you back to the cupola. “Go, go, she’ll be outside on the grass, and then we’ll run.”

“No, no, no!” you half-sob. You lock eyes with Moon, his expression unreadable. His eyes are red like blood but he makes no more to stalk after you as Michael shoves you through the shattered window. Thick shards of glass lie upon the steps of the narrow staircase and the wood frame is splintered. 

“Hurry,” Michael urges. He pulls you rapidly through the attic room. He stops only to snatch a leather bag and throw it over his shoulder. “It’s not safe here anymore. They’ll curse it. We have to get to town, shake them off our trail.”

“But Michael, Vanessa,” you sob and realize how stupid you are to trust the witches. They are violent. They are wicked.

You wanted so badly to kiss them.

“Focus up,” he says firmly. “Stay with me.”

You catch a whiff of smoke. You and Michael both pause on the top of the staircase leading to the ground floor, and peer up to find flames licking at the wood of the cupola greedily, and descending further, and further down.

“Fire. Of course,” Michael mutters. “Let’s go.”

He yanks on your arm and you both fly down the steps. Out of the door, you scramble over the porch and onto the lawn, finding the still form of Vanessa on the grass. Just like Michael said. You tear away from Michael to snatch up the rabbit’s body in your arms. You turn her head and find blood splattering the side of her face. Her poor, broken body hangs limp in your hands.

“Vanessa,” you wail.

“Run. It will be okay.” Michael pulls you after him. He races down the lone road, towards the light of the town. 

Twisting back once to stare up at Michael’s home now descending in rapid, unnatural flames of bright orange, you almost fall at the sight of it becoming ash. Upon the roof sit three witches, watching you race away. Their stillness pierces your heart. You sob once more and kiss Vanessa’s head in apology. You didn’t mean for her to die.

Why would they do that? You begged them not to.

Michael keeps running an awkward gait with his splinted leg and his rotten flesh. You keep pace, shoes slapping on the pavement, hugging a dead rabbit to your heart with tears spilling down your face.

[writingquestionsanswered]

Tips for writers with ADHD that get major writers block/burnout

Writers with ADHD and Writer's Block/Burnout

Tip #1 - Troubleshoot the Problem - I want to start here, in the most obvious place, because even for writers with ADHD, writer's block is often the result of a specific issue that can be surmounted once identified. My post 5 Reasons You Lost Interest in Your WIP, Plus Fixes! addresses some of the most common ones. It's worth checking to see if something on there resonates with you as a potential obstacle to progress.

Tip #2 - De-Stress Your Writing Time - Human brains are wired to respond in specific ways to perceived threats... fight, flight, or freeze. Quite often, what we call "writer's block" is actually your brain having a freeze response to writing because it's causing you stress and is therefore perceived as a threat.

So, anything you can do to de-stress your writing time can help. Troubleshooting the problem as in #1 is a good start. Set reasonable goals and deadlines... you can estimate your available writing time and calculate that with your estimated WPM to see if it's even possible for you to hit your word count goal. Go easy on yourself when you don't reach goals... celebrate even the smallest of wins, because negative thinking makes writing more stressful. Do what you can to set up an inviting writing space, light a candle (safely), play soft music, use ambient lighting, have your favorite beverage and snack at hand.

Tip #3 - "Gamify" Your Writing - Turning your writing goals into game achievements can make writing fun, which is another great way to de-stress it. You can usually find free game board templates online, or you can create your own. I like to set mine up like this:

You can set as many tasks as you want (within reason) for each goal, and your prizes can be anything from a handful of candy to buying something you really want, or doing something you really want to do. Whatever works for your budget that motivates you to get the tasks done.

Tip #4 - Do an Immersive Writing Sprint Session - YouTube is a wonderland of helpful videos for writers... not just easily digestible writing advice and research information, but also writing music, ambience rooms, and one of my favorites, immersive writing sessions. These are themed ambience rooms with ambient video, music, and sound effects, but they also have a writing sprint timer on the screen, so you are encouraged to write for however long (usually 10 to 20 minutes), then you get a five or ten-minute break before the next sprint starts. These can be a really great way to get into the zone if you're struggling otherwise.

Tip #5 - Eliminate Distractions - When you have ADHD, pretty much anything can be a distraction. If my desk is messy, I'll pause mid-sentence to clean it rather than write. If there's something on my desk I can fidget with or play with, I'll do that. If my phone is handy, I'll pick it up and start scrolling through social media. If I'm listening to music with words, I'll go look up the lyrics and fall down some weird tangentially related rabbit hole. If I'm hungry or thirsty, I'll get up fifty times to get a small snack or drink. So, I clean my desk ahead of time and remove anything I might be tempted to fiddle with. I only play instrumental music (usually an ambience room). I put my phone on silent or leave it in another room.

Literally anything I can do to head my usual distractions off at the pass. For me, it actually makes a big difference. Try keeping a running list of things that distract you while writing during a week of writing sessions. Then, go through the list and write solutions. This helps you build a pre-writing session distraction elimination routine.

I hope something here will work for you! I may do a part two to this soon, so keep an eye out!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

♦ Questions that violate my ask policies will be deleted! ♦ Please see my master list of top posts before asking ♦ Learn more about WQA here

[amourtoken]

yes PLEASE write about quinn knocking you up and also please never stop writing smut i feel FERAL

I got a couple asks about this so let me roll them all into one here yall are horny unhinged individuals together now

Quinn is unfortunately insanely susceptible to baby fever. He can't help himself, the thought of having a little extended family to provide for is sweet enough on its own but getting there is what he's really been focused on recently. He cannot clear his mind of the idea at all and it's starting to effect every aspect of his life. His thoughts are always frenzied and his brain fuzzy, he can barely focus on the ice and you constantly catch him zoned out and have to draw his attention back to you. What's he even thinking about?

This all started after he saw you interacting with some kids at a charity event. He didn't think it'd be a personal attack on his psyche to see you leaning down to their level so they felt more included while you chatted about your days or whatever random thoughts of theirs that sprung to mind. They all seemed so happy in your presence and you've always just naturally been great with kids so it's no surprise to you, but Quinn instantaneously fell victim to the infectious thought process of parenthood.

all he's thought about for days is how pretty you'd look pregnant and how good of a parent you'd be. Would your kids have your smile? Your eyes? Hopefully they had your sweet personality at the very least. You two could be the overly supportive cheesy hockey parents when your kid got a little older too, if they took after him and wanted to play. Quinn would fall down these hour long rabbit holes in his own mind of what your future would look like with an addition to the family and it was becoming more and more of a necessity every day.

Eventually it gets to a point where he can't fucking contain it anymore and he lets the idea slip while he's got you pinned to the mattress below him.

Quinn's fingers are holding your hips tight enough to bruise while he's buried inside you, panting praises and explicit compliments against your neck in rhythm with his thrusts. He can't get the image of you all pretty and pregnant out of his brain at all, the only thing keeping him from it is a thin latex and a question really. He didn't wanna ruin the moment but it was out of his control at this point, the need overtaking critical thinking skills.

"Fuck- please let me put a baby in you- shit- p-please- c-can't stop thinkin' about it- fuck i need it so bad...'m sorry-"

His voice sounded so broken, moans and whines cutting through his words against his will. You had no idea he felt this way and fuck you wish he'd said something sooner because you've been going through the same misery he has. For the same reason. The same exact event that permeated his peace with the idea of kids with you was the one that had you dizzy thinking about him being a dad. Safe to say your communication skills were lacking during this cause both of you were afraid to ask but now that you're on the same page? You're in for it.

You respond enthusiastically, nodding quickly and immediately pleading for him to do just that. Quinn's chest fluttered at your whined pleas and as much as it pained him to pull out in the moment it was definitely worth it to sink back into you raw. He wanted this to last forever but the way you felt so fucking warm and wet around him was ultimately his undoing, much to his own protest. He didn't wanna finish without dragging you along either, his thrusts fell out of rhythm as he snaked a hand between your bodies to circle your clit, trying his best to take you with him.

"Shit- you're gonna be so pretty- fuck- god I'm so fuckin' lucky-"

Your nails sunk into his shoulders as you pulled him closer, legs shaking as you tipped off the edge of your orgasm with a whine of his name. He almost immediately followed you, hands gripping behind your knees to fold you in half under him, allowing him to sink deeper than before. Quinn's vision blurred with black spots and his voice pitched up into whiney pleas as he filled you up, finally getting what's plagued him for fucking weeks now. Doesn't matter if this was the time that did it or not, he was dead set on fucking you full of his cum over and over and over until you got the results you both wanted (and then some extra for good measure ofc)

[death---dealer]

*reader talking with Malcolm's wife, and she complements readers hair beads made by the female apes*

Reader: aw thank you, I never get compliments often *side eyes caesar*

Caesar: *gives the "bitch what" look*

This is the funniest thing because imagine that night, you're in the nest tangling your hair out of the beads and Caesar is watching with baited breath because he genuinely does think that you are beautiful. Like, he's aware he does not verbalize it often, he knows that you called him out earlier in front of Humans. You're deathly quiet as you pull the beads out, almost placing them down pseudo-aggressive.

"You... are angry."

"You think so?" Caesar is quiet and huffs out of his nose from minor frustration. Why... Were you like this sometimes? He did not know, he did not understand but he chose to press on regardless, "Why?" "No reason, just tired I think. Long day at the dam helping my fellow Humans." You uttered, turning to face him finally and unbuttoned your flannel shirt so you could snuggle into an oversized t-shirt for bed. "You know, they're just so nice."

Ah. So... That's what this was about. His green gaze falls to your bare chest and then back to your eyes as you're holding the t-shirt in your hands, raising an eyebrow, "What? Do you have a staring problem?" Anger flares for a moment as does his nostrils at the absolute audacity of the tone that you used. "I... Do not understand... Why you are being this way." "Would it pay you to give me a compliment?" You uttered and slid the shirt on much to Caesar's digression as he was no able to see less of your bare flesh. "You know, we humans, as tough as I might appear to be. We like that. Compliments. Telling us that we're pretty, or funny, or smart---"

"You know I feel that way, why is it important for me to say it constantly?" "I'm not asking for constant." You rolled your eyes and trailed towards the nest and quite frankly, threw yourself in and tangled yourself into the animal hides that kept you warm when Caesar was not with you. "Geez, you really don't get it."

Caesar grunts, following you into the bed and before you're aware of what was happening, you're pinning flat on your back and he's hovering over you with a hand on the entire scape of his stomach, your skin lighting itself on fire in sudden arousal as you made eye contact with him and felt yourself sink back a bit a the intensity. The nest creaked under you at the sudden shift in weight as Caesar commandeered you and almost had you in a straddle.

"Do you want to hear how much I want you?" You were going to utter a yes but nothing came out, surprised by the bluntness of his words. He was brash, this you knew very well, but he kept these thoughts to himself for a reason you figured, having pressed a bit too far into the rabbit hole but there was no denying that the hold he had on you was exhilarating. "How much... Your scent... Drives me..." Caesar drew his head down and rested it in the crook of your neck. "how I want to... pick at your skin with my teeth. Every... single... part..." Hot and heavy breathing erupted between the two of you as you squirmed out of heady arousal, Caesar's voice tearing into the deepest piece of his baritone that he was capable of reaching and it felt like he was rumbling against you like thunder. All the more enticing, all the more alluring. "You do not understand the want I have to always be near you, to have myself inside of yo---" "I-I was just asking you to call me pretty every once in a while, Ceasar. No-nothing that serious." Swallowing softly, you knew exactly where his sentence was going to end and cut it short out of minor embarrassment that he was able to get you so flustered with just tones and words. He got quiet above you and let his hand drift upwards to encase one of your breasts that caused you to arch against him. "You are pretty."

Well, that was better than nothing, you chuckled to yourself, feeling the heat rise in your navel as you pulled your arms around him to tug his larger body against yours without reserve.

[onehoplessromantic]

B. Bradshaw | Masterlist

Top Gun - Maverick

Updated: 11/1/2024 [link check]

!!authors!! if u want something removed plz pm me 💕 ily

Hi!!! So? This is it! I've been continuously cringing at myself for even making the first search for this the other day but I did. I ended up falling down a rabbit hole full of incredible fics written by some incredible people so I hope you give it a look. No need to judge me, I'm already judging myself T-T.

peace!

PSA: if you want to be kept up to date with the happenings of this list you can sign up for my tag list here so you will be notified when i add fics or chapters and you can choose to keep up with bigger announcements as well

fluff-> 🤍 | smut -> 🍋 | angst -> 🌧️ | major tw -> ‼️

Series

☆ ALTITUDE | @tongue-like-a-razor

13 chapters | on hold | 🌧️🤍

Sydney is not a pilot. But she knows all their tricks. That's why, when she meets the smooth-talking Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, she's not falling for any of them. She's not falling for him, either.

☆ ARE WE STILL FRIENDS? | @perpetuallydaydreaming

12 chapters | complete | 🤍🌧️🍋

Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw and you have been friends since you can remember, just friends (unfortunately) but when you are called back to Top Gun everything changes...

☆ JEALOUSY, JEALOUSY | @feralforfrank

3 chapters | complete | 🌧️🤍🍋

Rooster and you have never liked each other. One night at the Hard Deck is enough to change the dynamic between you.

☆ IF IT MAKES YOU HAPPY | @bloatedandalone04

4 chapters | complete | 🌧️🤍🍋

The one where you give Bradley your heart and he breaks it.

☆ FAKING IT | @tongue-like-a-razor

8 chapters | complete | 🌧️🤍

Fake dating your friend, Bradley Bradshaw - what could possibly go wrong? Your sister is getting married and you need a date. You enlist Bradley's help and the rest is history.

☆ AT LEAST I LET THE LIGHT IN | @heartsofminds

1 chapter | on hold (?) | 🌧️‼️

Bradley is on a downward spiral and Natasha doesn't know how much more she can take - unofficial sequel to 'cause no one breaks my heart like you (linked here)

☆ DRUNK IN LOVE / DRUNK IN LOVE | @feralforfrank

2 chapters | complete | 🌧️🤍

Rooster brings a drunk!reader to his house. What happens when you wake up in bed with Rooster, your sworn rival?

☆ THIS LOVE CAME BACK TO ME | @beyondthesefourwalls

13 chapters | complete | 🌧️‼️‼️

You and Bradley hadn’t ended on bad terms; really, you stopped before the two of you could ever truly begin. Still, in the last seven months, you had never completely left his mind. So when you suddenly appeared in front of him at the bar, asking for a favor and pulling him in for a kiss, he thought maybe it was a perfect opportunity to see if this time, things could be different. But what neither of realized was that there’s more going on than just rekindling a lost romance, and it might not be as easy as simply wanting it.

PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE read the warnings carefully before reading this story!!

☆ REMEMBER YOU EVEN WHEN I DON'T | @beyondthesefourwalls

10 chapters | complete | 🤍🍋🌧️

A training accident, the doctor had told him. A nasty one that led him here, laying in a hospital bed with a splitting headache and an inability to remember the woman sitting right beside him. What he did know, though, was that you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and you felt important to him. That, as it turns out, would become an understatement

☆ HOTTER THAN TEXAS | @tongue-like-a-razor

3 chapters | ongoing | 🤍

Bradley Bradshaw is tasked with transporting a not-so-delicate package in the form of Jake Seresin's baby sister, who turns out to be Bradley's dream girl worst nightmare.

Oneshots

☆ BRAD BRAD | @peterparkersnose

wc: 1.9k | 🤍🌧️

teasing, intimidation, situationship coming to a close, ANGST, mentions of death and dealing with death, rooster is in denial of looove, fluff at the end

Rooster gets upset when a harmless joke crosses the line.

☆ "YOU TOLD ME NOT TO WORRY ABOUT THEM" | @katsu28

wc: 1.3k | request | 🌧️🤍

bradley "rooster" bradshaw x aviator!reader, callsign casper (like the ghost hehe), some swearing

Rooster gets upset when pilot hazing goes too far

☆ LOVE IN THE DARK | @bloatedandalone04

wc: 2.8k | 🌧️

swearing, angst, sad boy bradley, lowkey depressed reader, more angst bc im sick and unhappy about it, new theme

The one where the deployments become too much.

☆ WHEN I PICTURE MYSELF HAPPY, I SEE YOU | @feralforfrank

wc: idk loll | prompt | 🌧️🤍

angst with a happy ending, miscommunication trope (?), nondescriptive reader

Rooster and reader fight, but they make up in their own way.

☆ "THATS NOT WHAT I MEANT AND YOU KNOW IT" | @katsu28

wc: 1.7k | request | 🌧️

bradley "rooster" bradshaw x reader, some swearing, angst

You miss Bradley so much while he's away, in trying to communicate this to him, lines get crossed and emotions rise.

☆ CRUMBLE | @daddy-bradley

wc: idk | 🌧️🤍

angst, cursing, mentions of parental insecurity, depression, anxiety, has a happy ending

You and Bradley are having your first fight after your baby is born. How will you both come to a solution and learn to cope through this together.

☆ 'CAUSE NO ONE BREAKS MY HEART LIKE YOU | @heartsofminds

wc: 19k | 🌧️‼️

heavy angst, miscommunication, heartbreak, right person wrong universe type shit, slow burn angst, disrespect towards women, drinking, bradley is a dick

Bradley Bradshaw is terrified of commitment and he decides to stop being selfish (even though its hard to see)

☆ MIDNIGHT RAIN | @bloatedandalone04

wc: 3.6k | 🤍🍋🌧️‼️

fluff, smut, angst, oral (f receiving), mentions/descriptions of bad past relationships, mentions of abuse, past abuse, toxic ex, trauma?, bad coping habits, arguments, crying, swearing

The one where Bradley is the best boyfriend you could ever ask for, but even he cant fully erase the bad memories of your last relationship.

☆ THINGS UNSEEN AND HEARD | @bloatedandalone04

wc: 4.1k | 🍋🌧️🤍

smut, angst, fluff, obvious bradley insecurities, self-deprecating thoughts, unprotected sex, swearing, alcohol consumption, maybe more

The one where you overhear Bradley talk about you to Jake and decide to give him the space he apparently wanted.

☆ THE STACHE INCIDENT | @feralforfrank

wc: no clue | drabble | 🤍

tooth rotting fluff, its honestly tragic

the title says all you need to know

☆ WHO DID THIS TO YOU? | @feralforfrank

wc: i dunno | 🌧️🤍

accidental injury (reader got hit in the face), crying, nondescript reader

It’s a drabble, I cant say much…

☆ THE ZIPPER INCIDENT | @tongue-like-a-razor

wc: i honestly, truly, don’t know | request | 🌧️🤍

fluff, angst, swearing, a pinch of smut, you stand up your date, which is shitty of you, but it’s probably worth it

You’re running late and you need help zipping up your dress. After recovering from the initial shock of seeing you all dolled up, Rooster is more than happy to assist.

☆ SLEEPYHEAD | @roosterbruiser

wc: *shrugs* | blurb | 🤍

tooth-rotting fluff, sleepy bradley

just read it goddamnit 🥹

☆ PERMANENT STATE OF OBLIVION | @topgun-imagines

wc: 3.2k | request | 🌧️🤍

drinking, arguments, angsty feelings

Despite all the times you have tried to make your feelings for the mustached pilot obvious, he still hasn't caught on. You make things clear one night at the hard deck.

taglist sign up

ⓒ onehopelessromantic, November 2024

[holylulusworld]

Romanian Kiss

Summary: Your fiancè leaves you for someone else. You try to get him back and meet a grumpy taxi driver.

Pairing: Taxi Driver!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Warnings: cheating (not Bucky), angst, heartbreak, meet cute, fluff, bad Romanian

A/N: This story was inspired by the movie "French Kiss" but takes place in Romania (Bucharest).

A/N2: I'm deep down the Bucky rabbit hole again so bear with me...

Words: 1,4k

He left you. He went to Romania for an important convention.

Suddenly he didn’t call you back.

But he left a message, telling you he found the love of his life.

Love of his life? Not a week ago, he promised you forever, and suddenly, another woman took your place. One he met two days ago.

You had no choice but to catch the next plane and hit Romania to find John and win him over again. He can’t just throw three and a half years of a relationship out of the window because he met some girl half his age.

So, this is how you ended up in the cab of the grumpiest guy you ever met. He pretended to not understand your language and grumbled under his breath the whole way to the next hotel.

“Sir,” you sighed as he didn’t react. “Can you tell me where the convention is? My fiancé is there,” you tried again. “I know you understand me. Please, I need to find him. He left and met that girl. I—he can’t just throw our life together away.”

“Miss,” he suddenly said, “stop talking so much. Maybe that’s why he left you. I’ll drive you to the hotel, but I’m not a city guide.”

“Whoa, I thought European taxi drivers were nicer than the ones in New York City,” you huffed and looked out of the window. 

“Maybe you should head back then and leave Romania alone,” he snapped at you and slammed his hands onto the steering wheel.

You bit the inside of your cheek. His words haunted you like an unwanted truth. Hot tears wanted to spring free. John leaving you. The stranger taunting you. Your hopeless situation. Torn between wanting John back and running away.

All damns broke when he grunted at you and accused you of being an annoying woman. You sniffled and the tears finally fell. 

You couldn’t stop. He had to stop the car and talk to you. He opened the door and sat next to you in the backseat. “If you stop crying, I’ll drive you anywhere you want to.”

He told you his name, an odd one. Bucky. At first, you believed he lied and tried to make fun of you; but it was his real name. He talked and talked to make you calm down. While you tried to stop the tears from falling, he murmured words you didn’t understand. 

He called you păpuşă and prinţesă. His words calmed you, and you allowed Bucky to hold your hand while you told this stranger about your past, and the love you just lost.

You believed him when he told you that he’d help you find John. He had no reason to help you, but he did.

For the next few days, Bucky drove you around town. He showed Bucharest, the most important places, and helped you stalk your fiancé and his new girl.

He even let you cry in his chest when you watched John meet the girl’s parents after knowing her for a few days. And the worst was, she wore a diamond ring, making your chest tighten.

“The convention is held in this building,” he said and pointed at the luxurious building. “Do you want to go inside and find out if your fiancé is in there?”

“I don’t know,” you said and meant it. If you met your fiancé right at that moment, you didn’t know what to say. “What if she’s prettier than me, or smarter…or younger.”

“Doll,” he placed his hand on your shoulder, “if you don’t talk to him, you’ll never know. If you want me to, I’ll drive you back to your hotel and you can fly back home and forget about him.”

“No, you’re right. I should talk to him but,” you sighed and looked down at your body. “Jeans and t-shirts won’t make him see me in a different light, don’t you think?”

“If you want me to,” he cupped your face and looked you deep in the eyes, “I’ll turn you into a maneater stealing his heart and mind.”

“You look stunning,” he said, watching you walk out of the bathroom of your suite. “I mean…wow.” Bucky eyed you up and down. 

“I,” you shook your head. The dress felt like a second skin, but you felt like it was suffocating you. The heels were too high and the make-up too much for your liking. 

In other words – this wasn’t you. But if wearing a short and figure-hugging dress, too much make-up, and heels makes John fall for you again, so be it.

“Go ahead, doll,” Bucky said and gently nudged you toward the entrance of the fancy restaurant. All you had to do was walk inside, pass John’s table by, and sit at the table Bucky reserved for you. He’d take care of the new girl by your fiancé’s side and distract her long enough for John to fall for you again. “He will love you.”

You took a deep breath and got the show on the road. While walking inside the restaurant, you held your head high and didn’t look at anyone. Including John.

For a second, you heard him gasp when you walked past his table, but you resisted the urge to turn your head to look his way.

You used the few words you learned in Romanian from Bucky to order water and food. The whole time you didn’t look at John’s table, always busy talking to the waiter, checking your phone, or reading the tourist guide Bucky bought for you.

“Y/N?” You only looked up when John was standing right in front of your table. He looked surprised and a little scared. “What are you doing here?”

“John?” You acted surprised too. “What are you doing here?”

“I told you about the convention, didn’t I?” He cocked his head to look you up and down. His eyes trained on your chest he murmured your name when you acted like you forgot about him, the convention, and the fact that he left you for some other girl. 

“Oh, that was in Romania. I can’t remember, sorry. With all the things going on in my life, the cancellation of our wedding and buying a new apartment I forgot about you.”

He sat down and puffed his chest. John tried, just like he did before he asked you out on a date for the first time, to impress you. You smiled and let his compliments and charm wash over you.

John and you dined together, and it almost felt like back then. And when he asked you to join him in his hotel room, you didn’t hesitate to follow him.

A few days ago, you would’ve happily given in to his advances. A few hours ago, you dreamed of being with him again. 

But at that moment, all you could think about was the guy you ran into while chasing your unfaithful fiancé.

His lips didn’t feel perfect against yours any longer, and the weight on top of yours didn’t make you feel how you should. 

“No, stop,“ you pushed him off you. “This isn’t right.”

“Baby, it’s right. I was a fool,” you whimpered at his words.

“I came here to hunt you down and win you over again but..” You got off the bed and grabbed your dress. “Not a few hours ago you wanted to marry that woman. Tonight, you believe I’m some sexy wonder woman but in the morning, I’m still the same woman I used to be.”

He tried to stop you, but you shook your head. “Please give me another chance. I was blinded by lust and—” He trailed off. “Maybe I was scared of the future and getting married.”

“You weren’t scared of marrying that woman you barely knew,” you cocked your head and gave him a sad smile. “Just tell me the truth. You’re not made for normalcy and me.” You bitterly admitted. “I’m not exciting and wild. Only the reliable and boring woman you easily forgot about the moment you met someone else.”

“You did what?” Bucky threw his hands up as you ran to him after you turned John down. “Why? I mean…all the effort and you let him off the hook?”

“It didn’t feel right,” you murmured and dropped your gaze.

“Why?”

“Why what?” You asked.

“Why did you turn him down,” he stepped closer to gently cup your face. “Tell me why, prinţesă.”

“I can’t…”

“Why?” He softly asked. “Doll?”

“I’m scared.”

“Tell me,” Bucky leaned closer to whisper against your lips. “Please.”

“Te iubesc,“ you whispered.

“I love you too,” he pressed his lips to yours and wrapped his arms around you. Right at that moment, you forgot about John and your past together. All that counted was Bucky holding you in his arms.

Tags in reblog.

[rottenzombrainz]

Tokyo Debunker; silly headcanons for each ghoul!

Just little silly traits for each ghoul. They're not meant to be good or bad, just silly!! :3

Frostheim

Jin Kamurai - Jin has a one-of-a-kind limited edition Hello Kitty lighter with a pink flame.

Tohma Ishibashi - Tohma's the type of guy to say "it's a quarter to one" "it's half past nine" "It's three eigths past six" etc.

Lucas Errant - Luca has absolutely no grasp on satire. Like, imagine Kaito showing him one of those "blink if you need help" videos and Luca is just like "Kaito?!? Why are you laughing?!? This person needs help!!"

Kaito Fuji - Kaito unironically likes "I'm 14 and this is deep" content.

Vagastorm

Alan Mido - Alan wears the same Halloween costume every year. Every single year. If it gets damaged or doesn't fit anymore, he just buys a new one that's the exact same.

Shohei Haizono - Sho would be really into collecting designer shoes. Bro probably has an entire wall of fancy basketball shoes.

Leo Kurosagi - Leo will just randomly say "*sucks teeth* Don't worry I'll edit it out in post" during normal conversation. You'll never know if he's actually recording or not

Jabberwock

Haru Sagara - This is already kinda canon, but Haru definitely falls for any and all scams. He probably buys things like dehydrated water and a treadmill even tho he's running around Jabberwock all fucking day.

Towa Otonashi - Towa loves gnarp gnarp alien cat videos. He loves them. immensely.

Ren Shiranami - I feel like Ren would have a really hard time pronouncing certain words like "anomalous" and "anemone" (just like me fr)

Sinostra

Taiga Hoshibami - Taiga would really easily fall down YouTube rabbit holes. Like he'd start off with watching a firearm review or something... and two hours later he's seventeen parts deep into SpongeBob conspiracy theories

Romeo Lucci - Romeo is deathly afraid of piss. human piss, animal piss, dirt ( he thinks it's all just worm poop...which it kinda is).

Ritsu Shinjo - Ritsu is one of those people who can't sleep if there is a single spec of light.

Hotarubi

Subaru Kagami - I feel like Subaru would have one mobile game on his phone that he's reached level 844 on or something. Something like a word puzzle or match three game.

Haku Kusanagi - Haku fucking loves cunty scene crunkcore music. S3R3L, Millionaires, 3OH!3. Inside, he's just a pretty rave girl.

Zenji Kotodama - Whenever he plays online games, Zenji would mistake NPCs for real people. I feel like he'd also say "thank you!!" to virtual assistants too.

Obscuary

Edward Hart - Ed would fucking love those Tiktok videos with the TV show clips and subway surfers gameplay at the bottom.

Rui Mizuki - Rui has an uncanny obsession with the Sims 4. He has all the dlcs, an entire hardrive of mods, hundreds of save files, and is a top creator on the Sims 4 Gallery

Lyca Colt - I think it'd be really funny if Lyca had a pollen allergy. Especially since Obscuary is full of plants.

Mortkranken

Yuri Isami - Yuri is incredibly bad at ice skating and roller skating. He always falls on his ass, bruises something, takes a bad fall, etc. Which is the real reason he hates going to Frostheim!!! /j

Jiro Kirisaki - I feel like Jiro has one thing that he just absolutely loves that isn't medicine. a special interest, one might say... And it's probably the most niche thing ever too. Like sea cucumbers. imagine - he just fucking loves sea cucumbers. You're getting your health checkup and you ask him "read any good books recently?" and he's like "Yeah, I read this book on sea cucumbers the other day" and then you just have to listen to him talk about sea cucumbers for the next 20 minutes.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Can you please do this but with Ruggie and Leona?

Courting Rituals w/ Fem Reader | Yandere Twisted Wonderland

Ruggie Bucci

Mating rituals for hyenas are very…tense

Females are aggressive and violent

For males there's a lot of submission and fear that goes into the mating process

Naturally he’s not supposed to be all that dominant when dating anyway

But you’re so clueless and totally unaware he might have to help you get the hint

There are three things male hyenas typically do

The cautious steps forward and cautious steps back

Spotted hyena males often do something of a nervous start toward the female before running back 

Kind of like a nervous jig that’s a sure fire sign of their intentions

Whether or not the females actually see it they do it

Which rings just as true for Ruggie 

“Oh wow, Ruggie your sharing with me?”

“Yeah don’t get to hung up on it. I’m just being a good senpai.” No he’s not

Or when Ruggie unexpectedly shares some of his food with you

And right after that he doesn’t talk to you for the longest time

Those are his steps but you won’t notice

You’ve got so many friends 

He hates it really

Next is another round of testing the waters

Now this testing of the waters–or more accurately your boundaries

Starts with crossing his legs in front of you

Something he does casually while speaking to you 

Next is the scratching the ground in front of you

Again you just casually brush off the extra time he spends down there tying your shoe

But now that he’s tested the waters he can finally commence with his final act

Presenting and you accepting

Now this wasn’t the olden days unfortunately

Even without your proper knowledge flashing you wasn’t the right display

So he’d take something close to it 

“Ruggie I really appreciate you inviting me to come swimming with you.”

“Nishishishi it’s no problem! You scratch my back I’ll scratch yours.”

And scratch his you will since he’s wearing a tight speedo

And he purposely planned for this after all

Made sure grim and company we’re too busy 

And Leona away on some trip 

Now for your acceptance

Again he has to be slick you’re so far from a typical hyena beast woman 

You just don’t know that bending over and parting your legs is the ultimate sign

The go ahead he needs

“Hey (Y/n), I need your help with something! My goggles fell into this rabbit hole.”

“What why don’t you do it?”

“Heh? I thought you were nice!” 

“Fine fine. Just make sure I don’t fall in the ground looks pretty unstable.”

“But of course!"

He’s holding your waist tight as you  bend over

Its the way it will be from now on

Your his mate now 

And any violence he does in your name is completely justified 

Leona Kingscholar

Lion’s have very basic mating rituals 

That aren’t really worried heavily on being impressive or not 

Its snuffing out competition 

Yes, powerful roars and a large dark mane is just as alluring

But it means nothing if your intended mate is occupied

Like with another male or with a child of another

So that’s what Leona’s worried about

Worried about the way you so easily interrupt your time together to deal with Grim

“Sorry Leona, if I don’t go home now the rest of the night is going to be a nightmare!”

“Then why don’t you stay here, then.”

“Thanks but Grim gets fussy if I'm not there.”

The urge to revert to his ancestor’s behavior is strong

But he’d rather not deal with you fighting him so he’ll invest in making Grim a little ally speedbump

A few plates of gourmet fish and suddenly Grim is willing to mess up any other rivals of his 

And that pleases him….for awhile

But you still mention Grim when you two are talking or cuddling 

It makes him sick

So a deal with Azul or paid underhanded deal and suddenly Grim’s not your problem anymore

And when you come crying to him he’ll soothe you but he won’t feel remorseful

You won’t feel to bad if he gives you a cub or two of your own

[monimccoythings]

Cuteness Overload

Just saw the movie. What a masterpiece. And (spoiler warning) I'm glad they did Charles Martinet justice even though I still think it should have been him voicing Mario. And of course, I'm in love with Jack Black's portrayal of bowser, excellent representation of a good creepy and psychotic villain that stole the entire movie. I loved it so much I'm writing a Y/N fic (My favorite little hoe, but this time is more on the platonic side). This contains a huge spoiler for the movie, specifically the ending. I'd recommend to watch the movie first.

Next Parts: 2, 3, 4, 5

So, a couple of weeks ago your entire neighborhood got destroyed because of some epic anime battle that just casually happened over there. How cool is that? Or how horrible, because thanks to that you just have to take the biggest detour ever known to man to get to work. But hey, at least you had a nice walk.

You getting into the mushroom kingdom was entirely by accident. Yes, you were curious about that new world but never had the time or will to go on a transdimensional travel. Thank goodness there was an open sewer hole laying there (which you completely missed) to help you take the initiative.

If you didn't took into account that nightmarish journey through the tunnels, the Mushroom Kingdom was a pretty interesting place to be. The toads were very friendly and kind fellas, some of them carefully checking you out for injuries and advising you to go see the princess in order to help you get safely home.

Okay, forget about the journey through that cosmic rabbit hole, going up to the castle was way worse. You didn't remember having exercised that much, not even in P.E. You swore your vision was blurry after all that.

Princess Peach was the most loving, kindhearted badass you had the pleasure to meet. That kind angel sent down from heaven upon seeing your miserable state, generously offer you to step in for tea and pastries, while the royal doctor (another toad but this cutie came with a stetoscope and a labcoat) made sure you didn't had seriously injured yourself with the fall.

As dignified and courteous she tried to act. It was obvious she was very excited to meet another person from Brooklyn. Soon you found yourselves engaged in conversation. It felt easy talking to her, like you were talking to an old friend. You suddenly felt very glad you didn't see that sewer hole.

Mario and Luigi stopped by as well, and the second they opened their mouths you recognised them as those two dudes from that dope ass commercial. So they were the ones that were in the middle of the battle in Brooklyn. Good for them, you were glad things turned out great.

You were having the time of your life, they were really chill and easy going people, which put you more at ease. As time passed, you heard the faint sound of a piano being played. When you asked your new friends about it, they just shrugged and Princess Peach gave you a half smile saying that it was her "pet turtle".

Whoah. This was truly a magical place. Her pet turtle played the piano?? And very well by the sound of it. Peach asked you if you wanted to see it. Of course you wanted to see it! Mario and Luigi gave each other uncertain looks, but in the end they just shrugged it off.

After a long walk through the hallways you finally reached a room. The toad guards immediately stepped away when they saw their ruler approach, but gave you a look full of suspicion. Peach softly reassured them.

She opened the door for you and let you in. The room wasn't any different from the castle except that it was completely devoid of any furniture but a single golden cage with THE TINIEST TURTLE PLAYING THE TINIEST PIANO YOU HAD EVER SEEN.

Said turtle was now looking perplexed and midly annoyed that it had been interrupted, but its eyes lighted up when they landed on Peach, who suddenly looked very done and tired. But how could you notice when its mere sight alone was too much for you to bear.

It was SO CUTE. SO DARN CUTE. Cuteness overload. You had died and were sent to adorable heaven where tiny turtles played teeny tiny pianos. You made sure to tell it that several times, making Mario burst out laughing. And it got even better from that moment, because out of that turtle mouth came the most colorful collection of threats and insults in a HIGH PITCHED voice that made your heart melt. Because of course it, he, had a high pitched voice. That only made you gush out more, you loved animals but specially you absolutely adored reptiles.

Mario was literally holding himself against the wall to keep himself from falling for laughing so hard. Luigi was cry laughing and Peach was trying to cover her face, but it was clear that from the way her shoulders rose and went down that she was practically wheezing.

You asked Peach if you could hold him for a while, to which she seriously, or at least she tried to sound serious in the middle of all that laughter, answered that it was too dangerous to let him out. But how could something as darling as that do any wrong? Peach gently pulled you out of the room, but not before you let out a "Bye bye, piano playing turtle, I love you." To a very blushing and mortified turtle.

Turns out that the turtle had comitted war crimes. Very bad war crimes. And even though he was still a little cutie to you, he got what he deserved and shouldn't be let out under any circumstances. Still, you were def going to visit him again.

[luveline]

Congrats on 40k Jade! Also hi, I hope you're having a great day (I'm really nervous this is my first time sending in a request I'm so sorry if I sound weird)

𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝'𝐬 𝐨𝐤 —send me a hurt/comfort request for any reader and any character and I'll write a ficlet, 2k or less

Can I request a reader that has a bit of a temper and got told that no one would like her because of it so she's a bit insecure about herself? My favourite character is James so maybe with him or with Remus whichever you prefer (and they reassure her and it's awesome because your writing is just so awesome)

Congrats again <3

luveline's 40k party ☆ thank you so much, you didn't sound weird at all dw ♡ fem!reader

The day has been long, your feet dragging up the steps to Remus' flat. His door sticks and the only radiator that doesn't need bleeding is the one in his bedroom, so it's cold, and you're irked. You kick out of your pinching shoes and hang your jacket up, which falls on the floor. You pick it up and it falls again. Huffing, you put it on the sideboard and trudge down the hallway to Remus bedroom. 

"Hello, my lovely," he says without looking up. 

There's a notebook in his lap. He's wearing his reading glasses. If you were in a better mood you'd try to distract him by laying across his thighs. As it stands, you're fucking exhausted. You flop down in his bed and curl towards him where he's sitting against the headboard. 

"Tired?" he asks. 

"Mm." Tired isn't the right word, but the right word makes people cringe at you. 

Today has been awful and you hate the part of you that wants to rail about it. You can't help how you feel; this anger glows molten. It makes you hate yourself, which irks you worse. You grab one of his pillows and pull it against your chest to squeeze it until your arms hurt. 

"Bad day?" he asks, pen scratching.

You exhale. "A bit," you say into the pillowcase. 

"Sorry, dovey," he says. There's the sound of paper leaves catching against one another and the clink of a pen put away. "What did you say? I needed to finish writing that edit down before I forgot."

You're not mad at him in particular but your voice comes out tightly strung anyhow, "I said it was a bit of a bad day."

Remus hears your tone and refuses to skirt around the issue. Not from a want to be confrontational, but a direct way of going about things. "What, are you mad at me?" 

"No," you say, turning away from him. 

"You seem mad." 

"I think I am." 

"Well, now you don't sound mad," he says, dipping down to talk into the back of your neck. "Now you sound upset. Have I upset you?" 

"No, Remus," you say. Mad to sad to mad again, your shoulder and spine ache with rigidity. 

All his questions didn't make you mad, but you were mad to begin with, and so what might usually be very normal turns to irritating. In the moment, you've no hope of controlling it, and, not wanting to further subject Remus to any misdirected annoyance, you shuffle out of his reach. "I just need a minute," you say. 

Remus is used to your temper, though you often worry he'll grow tired of you and your big moods and throw in the towel. You count useless numbers in your head and curl your fists into balls until your bones feel like they're too big for your skin, wanting to deal with it alone. 

A minute or two later and Remus reaches for your side. "I was trying to lighten the mood, and it wasn't my best work," he says, tip of his thumb drawing semi circles into your shirt. 

Remus taking the blame for your emotions has you frowning, rabbit-holing into twisting thoughts. He's always been good for you and good to you, accepting of your short fuse. He's not always sunshine and lollipops himself. But, he's not angry half as often as you are. Does that bother him? People have said to you before that your temper will be the ruining of a good thing, that Remus won't want to deal with it. And it makes sense. 

You don't want to deal with it either. You don't really feel like you have much choice when it comes to being mad. 

"Sorry," you mumble. 

Mattress springs groan as he leverages himself closer to you. Familiar, his hand sneaks under your shirt to tickle the soft roll of your stomach. He draws a slow and winding line with no end nor goal in mind, uncaring of the pouch you get laying down. Remus doesn't really care about anything that could be marked superficial. It's one of the many reasons that he's markedly the best person you know; he loves everything that you hate about yourself without hesitation. Like your anger. 

"Do you want to set a rule?" he asks. 

"Pardon?"

"Humour me. Let's make a condition before we have this conversation." Remus stops drawing to slide his hand between your hip and the mattress, hugging you to him. "I'll assume you're not mad at me even if you sound angry, and you can assume I don't mind." 

"Do you mind?" you ask. 

"Well, I don't love when you're angry, but I know it isn't at me so it won't matter." 

Reassured enough to face him, you meet his eyes. 

"I know I have a tendency to make it sound like I'm angry at you when I'm really mad at someone else," you say. 

"That's not true. And I ask, don't I? If I think you're mad at me?" Remus' already dulcet voice drops to a murmur, words said slowly and with as much care as a person can put into words alone, "I don't know why you feel like you're such a bad person for being angry." 

"Because it's all the time," you say. Your throat burns with the effort that it takes to stay intelligible. 

"It's not all the time." 

"It's often, and it's not fair to you." 

"It's not fair to take it out on other people, and I promise you I'd let you know if you were doing that. So… could you just tell me why you're mad? Without worrying I'll take it personally." 

"It's not about taking it personally, I don't want you to take it personally, but it's just– it's just ugly, isn't it?" 

Remus frowns. "Honestly? I don't think so. You have to be angry sometimes. Everyone gets angry and those feelings need somewhere to go, or it'll eat you up inside and make you bitter instead. Like… okay, he'll forgive me for telling you this, but Sirius used to get into these awful angry tirades where he'd shout at nothing, you know? And I hated seeing him do it, but I wasn't sitting there thinking he was ugly for it. I just kind of hated that something was able to occupy him so heavily. And that's how I feel about it when it happens to you, dove." 

"He used to?" you ask, the bridge of your nose flat to his knee. 

"Yeah, he did." Remus pushes your shoulder flat to the bed beneath you and leans in to give you a kiss. The corner of your mouth takes the brunt of it. 

"Did you kiss him like this, or–" 

Remus laughs and hugs you, "A discussion for another day," he murmurs. He gives you a last kiss and squeeze and then sits up. "So shout at me." 

"I don't want to shout at you." 

"You know what I mean. Tell me what pissed you off today." 

"Are you sure?" you ask. 

"Yeah, I'm sure, I like the way your eyes look anyways, when you get riled up." Remus finds your hand to hold. "Tell me, dove. I'll be angry with you."

[queenshelby]

Our Little Secret (Part 60)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Infidelity, Age-Gap, Triggers, Smut

"Actually, I am sorry, but I should get some sleep. I am heading back to Dublin tomorrow after filming ," he said catching a hint of suspicion in his voice.

"That's okay Cill. Maybe next time? I am back on set in two weeks and we could have that drink then," Annabelle  replied, trying to hide her disappointment.

Cillian couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt. He knew that he had led her on, but he couldn't bring himself to cross the line with her. Not when there was still a chance that he could work things out with you one day. Despite, the attraction he felt towards her was literally zero, so

he knew that he couldn't let himself fall down that rabbit hole, especially when there was a child involved.

With that, Cillian said his goodbyes, and headed back to his apartment before, on the following day, after a busy day on set, he took the last plane home to Dublin, arriving at around 11 o'clock that night.

He was excited to see Mara tomorrow and did not yet know that she had been quite unsettled all day when she was with you. As usual, he ignored your calls and you refused to message him if this was how he wanted things to be.

Despite, you figured that Mara just had a cold. It wasn't the first time she got sick and ran a fever, and you knew it was just a matter of monitoring her condition and making sure she got enough rest.

By the late evening, her fever had gone down, and she was sleeping soundly until, sometime around one o'clock that night, her coughing woke you up.

It was loud and unlike anything you have ever heard before. It was almost like a deep bark, combined with the sound a small dog would make, only amplified. You immediately got up from your bed and went straight to her, holding her in your arms.

By the time you jolted towards her, she was crying inconsolably. Her tiny little body racked with shivers and the cough became worse pretty quickly. 

It was clear that this wasn't just a run-of-the-mill cold. Panicked, you quickly scooped Mara up and called your mother who, expectedly, did not answer. 

While you tried ringing your mother, Mara's cough got better again before picking up once more. This time, it was even louder than before and you contemplated driving her to the hospital. 

You had no idea what was wrong with Mara and, in your frantic state, you couldn’t help but think of the worst-case scenarios. You tried to calm yourself down by taking deep breaths and repeating positive affirmations, but it was proving to be a daunting task.

In the end, and in your state of panic, you tried to call Cillian who seemed to be much calmer in situations like this. When Mara hurt herself on the playground, he was the one who calmed you down but now, with the way things were between you, you only dialed his number reluctantly.

It rang several times before he picked up, confused and tired. "Fuck Y/N, it's one o'clock. Is everything alright?" he murmured into the phone, already fearing that something was wrong since, usually, you wouldn't call him at this hour.

"Cillian, I-I'm sorry to call so late, but Mara, she's-she's sick and I don't know what to do," you said, tears welling up in your eyes as you struggled to get the words out.

"Y/N, you need to calm down," Cillian said, his tone immediately changing from groggy to alert. "What's wrong with her?" he then wanted to know while Mara started coughing again in the background.

"She has a high fever and she's been coughing a lot. It sounds really bad, Cillian,"  you replied, your voice shaking as you tried to stay calm for Mara's sake.

There was a brief pause, and when Cillian spoke again, his voice was filled with concern. "I'll come over," he then said, already getting dressed and running down the stairs of his house. "It sounds like she has croup," he continued, as he unlocked his car and you did not know what he was talking about.

"What?" you  mumbled, confusion clouding your already panicked mind.

"Croup," Cillian repeated, as he started the engine of his car. "Max used to get it too when he was younger.  I will be there in a sec,"  he said, already on his way.

Meanwhile, you held Mara tightly, trying to comfort her as best as you could. Her body trembled with every cough and her color looked drained. The look in her eyes was one of fear and confusion, making it harder for you to maintain your composure.

When Cillian arrived two minutes later, you already walked to the door, hearing his car pull up in the driveway. You opened the door, not bothering with formal greetings, as Mara coughed loudly.

"She's been doing this for the past half hour, and I tried to give her medicine to bring down her fever but, it's still really high," you acted out your worried expression to show him, pulling Mara closer to you.

"Dada," she moaned, her little voice barely audible above the harshness of her coughs. The sight of her in distress pierced Cillian's heart and a raw, primal protectiveness surged through him, filling him with determination to do whatever it took to make her feel better.

"Let me take her," he said, reaching for Mara, but you hesitated. "She's defiantly got croup. She sounds exactly what Max used  to sound like when he had it," Cillian repeated, as he held Mara tightly in his arms, trying to soothe her by gently rubbing circles on her back. He could feel her little body shaking from the force of her coughs, and his heart ached at the sight of her looking so small and helpless.

"What's croup?" you asked, your mind whirling with questions and fears for your daughter's health. Cillian looked at you, a steady gaze in his eyes as if trying to reassure you with his presence alone.

"It's just a shitty cough some kids get when they are sick," he answered, softly. "I've been through this before with Max, too many times actually. He used to get it once every two months," Cillian explained before carrying Mara upstairs and you followed him quickly. 

He held Mara tightly in his arms while walking into the bathroom and turning the shower on to full steam. 

"What are you doing?" you  asked, your voice barely above a whisper as you watched Cillian turn on the shower and make the bathroom fill with steam.

"The steam helps," he barely said before kicking off his shoes and helping Mara out of her Pjs, leaving her in her nappy only while she cried and coughed.  He stepped into the shower with her, making sure she was warm and didn't get too wet.

Cillian knew this would help soothe Mara's swollen airways and help her breathe more easily. He had watched Danielle do the same thing with Max before and as he sat down on the shower floor with her, fully clothed himself, rocking her gently, you couldn't help but calm down.

"Shh, it's alright baby," he murmured softly, running his free hand through her fine, golden hair while he maneuvered to keep the water away from her face with another hand. Mara let out a weak cry, momentarily quieting down only to resume coughing again a few seconds later.

The cough, however, took on a different tone. It was gentler , more subdued. Mara settled down into Cillian's arms, her tiny frame fitting perfectly against his own. Cillian held her fiercely, gratitude washing over him as he realized just how much he loved this child. He loved her beyond all measure, more than any person or thing he had ever encountered in his life.

"Do you have ibuprofen or paracetamol?" he asked, his tone gentle.

"Yes, I have both," you replied, your voice filled with relief. "She had paracetamol four hours ago though, so I will get some iboprofen. I will be right back,"  you said before heading towards the kitchen and rummaging through the cabinet for the medicine. When you returned to the bathroom, Cillian was holding Mara still, the steam surrounding her as she sat on his lap and you couldn't help but marvel at how powerful and protective he looked beside the vulnerable little figure of your daughter.

You handed the cup of ibuprofen to Cillian who tried hard to convince Mara to take it. She shook her head and whined until, finally, she took the spoonful from Cillian and swallowed it reluctantly. You counted the minutes, watching as Mara's cough subsided little by little, her breaths growing steadier and her fever gradually decreasing.

By the point she fell asleep, Cillian was drenched and stood up, handing her to you, wrapped up in a towel.  He looked exhausted but had a small, tired smile on his lips when he handed her to you. 

"She'll be okay," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper and you suddenly began to cry, which was something he did not expect.

"Y/N, I said she will be okay. What's wrong?"  Cillian asked, concern etched on his face as he looked at you. You were standing there in the bathroom, holding Mara who was now fast asleep in your arms. Your body was shaking with silent sobs and your eyes were overflowing with tears.

You were overwhelmed. Overwhelmed with relief that Mara was okay, overwhelmed with gratitude for Cillian and his help, overwhelmed with emotions that you hadn't felt in a long time.

"Nothing, I just...I am fucking useless at this," you said in a small voice, your shoulders sagging in exhaustion.

Cillian frowned, taking a step closer to you. "No, you're not," he said, reaching out to gently squeeze your shoulder. 

"Yes I am. I mean look at us. I had to call you because I did not know what to do and you knew exactly what she needed. I am a shit mother," you said, the tears streaming down your face.

"That's not true," Cillian said, moving closer towards you and caressing Mara's hair, soothing her some more. "In fact, I think you are the most amazing mother there is, doing all those things you do for her on your own most days," Cillian said, looking you straight in the eyes, willing you to believe him. "Plus, the only reason I knew what to do was because I lived through this already with Max. I took him to the ER the first time he coughed like this and being a paranoid parent is normal. It's good. It's natural to worry, you know," Cillian said, his soothing voice echoing through the bathroom. 

"Thanks Cillian, but I don't know. Some days I feel like a failure  as a mother," you whispered, still gripping Mara tight against your breast.

Instinctively, Cillian moved closer and gave you a warm, comforting hug without disturbing his sleeping daughter in your arms. "You're not a failure, Y/N. Don't talk that way," he said, looking into your eyes with a tight-lipped smile. You eased back into him, slowly relaxing as his arms encircled you. "Look, you did everything right. You noticed Mara was sick and you called," he reassured you before pulling away and clearing his throat.

"I should probably head back home now though," he then  said, taking a step away from you.

"No, please stay. I don't want to be alone. Not after this scare," you replied, your voice soft and pleading as you looked up at him, hope gleaming in your eyes.

Cillian hesitated for a moment, torn between what he should do and what you were asking him to. 

"Okay," he eventually said, his voice barely audible as he made up his mind. "I'll stay," he told you and you nodded quickly.

"Thank you," you murmured, feeling a wave of relief wash over you. "I will just put Mara down and then get you some dry clothes, okay?" you suggested, seeing how you still had half a shelf full of Cillian's stuff, sitting in the guestroom. 

"Sure," Cillian agreed, nodding his head in acceptance before drying himself off a little while you carried Mara upstairs and placed her gently into the spare cot in your bedroom, so that she would be close by. 

You then gathered a t-shirt and pair of boxers from the guest room and  handed them to Cillian who changed quickly.

Despite your initial hesitation, having Cillian around brought a sense of comfort that you hadn't realized you were missing.

Together, you sat in the living room for a moment, calming down and basking in the silence that surrounded you after the chaos earlier. Then, you decided to return to bed, and Cillian followed you up, taking a book from the shelf in the guest room and resting it on the nightstand beside his side of the bed.

Despite feeling exhausted from his busy day, Cillian knew that sleep wouldn't come easily tonight as he was being in your house again, which was something he had tried to avoid.  He sighed and looked at the time on his phone. It was already 3 in the morning, yet he couldn't shake off the feeling of unease that had settled in his chest.

On one hand, he was relieved that Mara was okay, and her condition had improved significantly after the steam treatment earlier. However, on the other hand, Cillian couldn't help but feel a mix of guilt and frustration over how things had unfolded between you in recent times. 

The following morning, after as little as five hours of sleep, you woke to the smell  of freshly brewed coffee and the sound of soft footsteps coming from the kitchen.

Cillian was already up, busy baking pancakes and when you turned over, you noticed that Mara was gone from her cot. 

You had heard her about an hour ago, but thought she had gone back to sleep, which was obviously not the case, so you got up and made your way downstairs.

"Mummy is up I think," Cillian  called from the kitchen as you entered and Mara smiled, calling out 'mama'. 

"I didn't realize you got her up?" you asked, a little tired and confused and Cillian explained to you that he came in to check on her,  realizing that she was wide awake and seemingly remained quiet to let you sleep.

"She's just been sitting in her cot, playing with Gigi Giraffe," Cillian added, smiling softly at Mara who giggled at his words.

"Gigi" she repeated and you felt your heart swell with warmth at the sight of the two of them together and couldn't help but feel grateful for Cillian's presence. It was nice to have someone else to share the responsibility of taking care of Mara with, especially after the scare from last night.

"Thank you for last night Cillian. I really needed you here," you said, sincerely. And you meant it.

"It's fine Y/N. Honestly," he responded as you made your way towards Mara, hugging her tightly from behind and placing a gentle kiss on her forehead. Her golden curls tickled your nose and the smell of baby shampoo and clean laundry overwhelmed your senses.

The sense of gratitude shifted inside of you, turning into a warm, fuzzy feeling that you recognized as happiness.

As you let go of Mara, you turned to Cillian who was still standing next to the kitchen counter, watching the scene unfold in front of him.

"I don't know how good these pancakes will taste, but hey, I did make them from scratch," he  said, with a small, shy smile.

You couldn't help but return the smile as you watched him, amazed at how he managed to pull himself together despite the lack of sleep and the chaos of the previous night.

"They look amazing, Cill," you said, your voice sincere as you looked into his eyes. There was a moment of silence between you, but it wasn't uncomfortable. It was the kind of silence that spoke volumes, the kind of silence that held a promise of possibilities yet to be explored.

Cillian held your gaze for a beat longer before breaking it, clearing his throat and getting busy with the pancakes.

The rest of the morning passed by in a blur as you and Cillian sat down to enjoy the pancakes while Mara played quietly beside you. You couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment settle over you as you watched Cillian interact with Mara, the way he looked at her with pure adoration and love.

"We should still take her to the doctors and get some meds for when it happens again. There is some stuff they can prescribe which clears it right up," Cillian told you  as you both munched on the pancakes, Mara's plate with a few bite-sized pieces of pancake on it untouched.

"Yeah, I will call the clinic in minute and I can take her, unless you want to?"  you asked, already assuming the latter.

"How about we both take her and then, if she feels up for it, we could go somewhere nice for the afternoon? Maybe the park to feed the ducks? Somewhere where she can't get others sick, I suppose," Cillian suggested and, after all that had occurred between you, you were surprised by his suggestion.

"I thought you didn't want us to do these things together anymore, with the new parenting plan and all? " you  said, dabbing your mouth with the napkin as you gazed at Cillian with raised eyebrows.

"I guess I changed my mind Y/N," he admitted, swallowing hard. "I was upset after what happened at my sister's wedding, but I realize that you were right and I was wrong. Mara needs the both of us and this, here, with all of us having breakfast together, is nice, you know?"  Cillian said, his voice soft and sincere.

You found yourself smiling at him, realizing that he was right. You had been so consumed with your anger and hurt over Cillian's sudden change in behavior and the way that everything had unfolded during the past few months, that you had not considered the fact that maybe he was hurting just as much as you were.

You reached out and placed your hand over his, giving it a gentle squeeze of reassurance before taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. "Okay," you simply said.

"Let's take Mara to the clinic and then, if she's feeling up for it, we can head to the park."

The three of you finished your breakfast and proceeded to get ready for the day ahead. As you got dressed and brushed Mara's hair, you couldn't help but steal glances at Cillian, admiring his handsome features and the way he interacted with Mara. Despite the tension between you, it was clear that he loved Mara deeply and you couldn't help but feel grateful for that.

As you finished getting ready and made your way downstairs, you couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation for the rest of the day. It had been a while since you had spent a proper day out with Cillian and Mara and, now that the opportunity had presented itself, you couldn't wait to enjoy it.

The clinic was only a short drive away. Mara slept peacefully in her car seat as you drove, with Cillian sitting silently beside you, lost in his thoughts. When you arrived, you parked the car and gently woke Mara up before making your way inside.

Cillian held gently Mara's hand as you waited in the lobby for the nurse to call Mara's name. Time seemed to drag on, but Mara was content playing with a toy car that Cillian had brought from home for her.

Finally, your name was called and you made your way to the examination room. The nurse took Mara's temperature, oxygen level and listened to her chest before confirming Cillian's earlier suspicion - Mara had croup. The nurse gave you a prescription for a medication that would help if Mara had another croup attack.

She explained how to administer it and what symptoms to look out for. You nodded along, taking it all in, and thanked her as she handed you the prescription.

After the clinic visit, the three of you picked up some more food and made your way to the park  , with Mara securely strapped into her stroller.

The park was bustling with families and children, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of joy as you watched the young children playing and enjoying themselves. You and Cillian fell into an easy conversation, talking about everything and nothing in particular, the tension between you dissolving with each passing moment.

You parked Mara's stroller near the pond and pulled out some food that you had brought to feed the ducks. It was the only place in Dublin where this was permitted and, unsurprisingly, the ducks here were massive and rather friendly.

Mara loved them. She clapped her hands as they waddled over to the food that you'd thrown out for them.

You couldn't help but smile at the sight of your daughter, so full of wonder and delight. And next to her, Cillian seemed just as captivated, his gaze following every movement of the ducks and his touch gentle as he moved a stray strand of hair away from Mara's face.

Cillian was unbelievably good with your daughter.

You watched as he carried on a comical conversation with an oblivious duck, making Mara giggle hysterically. His laughter blended with hers, and you found yourself smiling along with them. For a moment, the world faded away and it was just the three of you, enjoying each other's company.

When Mara became tired of feeding the ducks, you took her for a walk around the park while Cillian packed up the leftovers and disposed of the trash.

"I think she really needs a nap now," you  said, glancing down at Mara who was rubbing her eyes in her stroller. "I don't want to push her too much today, even though she seems to be enjoying herself."

Cillian nodded in agreement, "That's probably for the best. Let's get her home then and I will get out of your hair," he suggested, pushing the stroller alongside you as Mara's eyes started to droop.

"Do you want to stay for dinner maybe? I think Mara would really like that,"  you offered, turning to face Cillian who paused for a moment before responding.

"I mean, I guess that would be alright. If you want me to," he said with a small, awkward smile on his face and you nodded happily.

"Yeah, I do. It's just dinner, so why not?" you said, already mentally planning out a simple meal to cook.

Cillian nodded and the rest of the walk to the car was filled with a comfortable silence. You placed Mara in her car seat and clicked it into place. Cillian then climbed into the driver's seat and started the engine.

As Cillian drove you home, you noticed that he was glancing at you every so often, a thoughtful expression on his face. You turned to him with a raised eyebrow, "What is it?" you asked, reaching out to adjust the volume of the radio.

Cillian hesitated before answering, "I was just thinking about how nice today has been, spending time with you and Mara. It's been a while since we've done that."

You nodded in agreement, "It has. I'm glad we could make today happen. Mara really needed it, and so did I."

Cillian smiled at you, a genuine and warm smile that reached his eyes. "Me too," he said, his voice soft and sincere.

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