#remember about how fear twists how u see reality?

[agronzky]

⠀⠀⠀𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐓𝐎 𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐀 𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐈𝐍 𝐑𝐏.

⠀⠀⠀Anyone who knows me or has rp with me knows how much I love building ambiguous — or grey, if you prefer — characters or villains. The drama, the chaos, the complex plot… It all makes everything more interesting, especially once you get bored of characters who are exclusively nice, naive and suchlike. Even so, it's a construction that needs to take several factors into account and be very delicately written so it doesn't become a trigger rather than a character.

⠀⠀⠀For this reason, below I've provided some tips on how to create villainous characters for rp, taking into account various traits, setting and also demystifying the fact that not every villain is a soulless monster. Anyway, on to the guide.

Deep and personal motivations.

⠀⠀⠀Convincing villains usually have compelling and understandable motivations, even if their actions are highly questionable. It's the premise of them being right in their quest, but using the wrong means to achieve it and ultimately losing their reason. This brings a sense of humanity and it's even possible to feel connected to what led this person to become a villain. You can truly see how they lost the way.

⠀⠀⠀Another point is the fact that not everyone wants to conquer the world, nor do they have the ambition to have a lot of money or power. Think of plots about revenge, twisted love, the quest for justice or fear. Generally, a character's deepest motivations give them more determination to fulfill their goals because it comes from something much more internal and traumatic. Give them a proper reason and make them lose the way, this is gonna make everything feel real, convincing and interesting to developed.

Moral complexity.

⠀⠀⠀The simple truth is the days of people liking completely cartoonish characters are long gone, and nowadays many people don't like those who are evil simply for the sake of being evil. This is because it's too out of touch with reality. Obviously there are people who are like that in real life, but the vast majority is more complex than this. Humans, in the end, are very complicated and, probably, will never truly understand why we are the way we are.

⠀⠀⠀To get away of this cliché and cartoonish form when creating your character, try to develop moral nuances and internal dilemmas which can explain their actions. Put a small fragment of morality in the character, make them question themselves a few times as to whether they're on the right path… Remember yin yang: there's a little tiny good inside the evil. This tip can be used for any character, when you think about it, but it's very important for those who want to create villains.

Human traits, personality and vulnerabilities.

⠀⠀⠀Like any human being, provide your character with traits unmistakably human, such as fears, insecurities or personal relationships that will impact them, to make them more realistic. Just because someone is doing something morally wrong doesn't mean they've lost all touch with their humanity, especially since not every villain is a psychopath who has no empathy for anyone. It's always very interesting when a character believes they're doing what's right or good for someone else, and this is their motivation. 

⠀⠀⠀Also bring some weaknesses to the character, whether physical, emotional or psychological. This provides room for development and also ways for other characters to access them in a more specific way, either to get to know them better or to retaliate against them at some point.

⠀⠀⠀You know that line "Do you like my personality? I created it especially for you!"? Well, consider how the character behaves and bring in more layers when making the personality. Take into account how they behave in different situations and with different people.

Charisma and a magnetic nature.

⠀⠀⠀The fact is that bad guys aren't unbearable one hundred per cent of the time, they need to know how to live in society and captivate people. So define unique and appealing traits for the character, whether they're genuine or merely a façade. It's always interesting when, within the plot, most people don't know about the evil or wrong side of a character because it gives them more room for development. Maybe make them ashamed of what they're doing and try to hide it as best they can. And just think about real life: do we truly know the people around us?

Connection with other characters.

⠀⠀⠀Nobody lives completely alone since we're in a society and this makes us having connections, for more simple they can be. Thinking about that, create connections with other characters to bring more motivation and drama to your muse, such as an old rivalry, a complicated personal relationship or a surprising connection which generates tension. You can also create connections that actually bring their good side to light, you know? It's also always good to add a certain complexity, to have troubled moments, wounds that haven't healed fully, secrets being revelead, etc.

Questions for creating villains.

What are the character's main motivations?

What is the character's origin story? What led them to become what they are today?

What are the past traumas or events that have shaped their worldview?

How does the character justify their actions morally? Does they believe they are doing the right thing?

What are their weaknesses and vulnerabilities?

How does the character present themselves to the world? Are they masked, manipulative or showy?

What do they want to achieve through their actions?

What are their emotional reactions to obstacles and challenges?

How do they justify their actions to themselves? Is there any sense of internal validation?

How do they relate to the authorities or the law?

How do they see themselves? Do they see themselves as the hero of their own story?

How do they react when their plans fail?

What do they feel when faced with the possibility of redemption or change?

Other small (and important) advice!

Corruption arcs are also super interesting, leading a good character to become bad over time and through traumatic situations. Redemption arcs are also sensational. The point is: nobody was born a villain and nobody has to die a villain.

Leave clues indicating your character before fully revealing your motivations. Also try to leave some motivations completely secret, using them when the plot calls for a surprise. In the best "surprise, bitch!" style.

Think about how environment and culture can influence beliefs and actions.

A villain doesn't have to be a psychopath or murderer. There are arcs of revenge and corruption which can be created without going to such extremes.

It's obvious, but always respect other players and the limits they impose. As I said, a villain isn't always doing evil and being a complete asshole, so make sure you know what kind of approach the other person will prefer.

Always be careful when approaching topics which are triggers and avoid them as much as possible. As I said, it's not necessary to go down this route, but if you do, always keep a firm grounding when writing, because triggers are complex real-life situations that always need to be handled delicately.

The end, for now.

( Be with Morgana, my good girl gone bad ♡ )

[fairyminnie444]

hi :)

happy new years and hope you have a great year ahead 💕

needed your advice actually..

TW I guess-

for 2024 i was really excited to yk manifest my desires and some of which i did but the excitement for 2025 has kinda died but im still pushing myself to get my desires because at the end of the day i wanna live a happy life.

i have made a detailed list for my 2025 desires (i think i manifested one already yesterday, it was something random) and have broken it down to the aspects of life (love, money, career, self, health etc)

I have adhd/ocd and often get overwhelmed and anxious and don’t know how or on what to focus. if i think to focus and affirm on one desire then i think what about the other and if I try to use an umbrella affirmation, a thought “if it all will manifest” comes to mind.

honestly I feel so lethargic sometimes and don’t know what to do..

I know i want it, i think I have also over consumed info and keep seeing videos or success stories and get motivated but then it all goes down again.

i keep saying in 2025 i wanna manifest everything i want but then the doubts come in and I don’t really feel the excitement.

thanks for your help ❤️

I got you, let me tell you something about my reality and maybe you can related ou take something from it.

I spent the whole of December focused, and I can't say it was a bad month. I got everything I wanted, even when fear or doubt arose. I always remind myself that I already have it, period.

Now, at the end, on the last day of the year, my day was terrible. I twisted my ankle on the first day of the year. I'm walking on only one foot. My 3D did not align with my inner self with something I really wanted and I cried a lot. I ALLOWED myself to feel sad, I allowed myself to feel frustrated, and it's okay! It doesn't matter! I already have what I want and I'm fine (IM NOT SAYING THIS TO CONVINCE MYSELF, IM SAYING THIS TO REMEMBER A FACT TO MYSELF, do u see the difference?). My foot is like this, but I'm a god living a human experience. That doesn't define our power, you know? Your adhd/ocd it’s nothing if you decide to.

There's no point in consuming a bunch of information and not going back to basics whenever you need to, YOU decide, you GIVE MEANING to things, things are just happening that doesn't mean you're doing anything wrong if you decide so, that's the definition of persisting.

We can accept circumstances without giving them meaning and not be false positives like some law of attraction coaches do, imposing limiting beliefs on you that you can't feel this or that, that you have to be on a certain frequency all the time.

Fuck it, you choose your reality, so I choose that regardless of ANYTHING, I already have what I want and back to my imagination cause i feel peace there and I know it will reflect.

You already have everything you put on your list, it's done. Period.

If you want to make affirmations to remind yourself, do it. If you don't want to, it's still done. Decide that.

If you want to do methods because you like it, do it. If you want to do NOTHING, do it too. Just know deep down in your soul that it's already done, and then it is.

You don't need to do ANYTHING that makes you feel like you're overloading yourself, absolutely nothing because it's already yours.

“If you are what you want to be on the inside, then you are it.” — Edward art

Happy New Year 🩷🩷🩷

[m1d-45]

" archons who lose their character, things they held dear falling to dust, their minds swallowed by the alternate and their separate realm of existence- OH WHAT If"

YOU SO REAL FOR THIS

you got pretty much exactly what I was trying to convey, I wanted the archons to lose their minds by praying/being near alternate creator and the children to be more susceptible/the first to fall in this apocalypse scenario

BUT ALSO THE SHIT U MENTIONED AT THE END, it's so good angst and sadness that I love. having people put there complete and utter trust in a lie and be corrupted by this incredibly horrific disgusting thing. that just keeps sucking away at them

but just how I love angst I love happy endings. so what about the reader descending down to teyvat? how would their presence respond to the cold darker place teyvat has turned into

but also if the reader couldn't escape their alternate in their reality, how would they go about surviving in teyvat? what would the alternate!archons do? what if the reader healed the broken spirits of the people? what if reader meets one of the archons and they just know, they know they've been played but that it's you who is their god

ooo just thoughts, let's just say I love this au, it has potential.

-🍄 (most of what I've been writing about isn't really in the Mandela catalogue I think, I'm mostly using it as a basis of my thought process so don't feel bad that you haven't seen it. I think where both pretty even on our understanding of the canonical Mandela catalogue, anyways ily take care)

mushroom welcome back my dear

as always, below the readmore :)

i’m reading this with the alternate!creator being readers alternate bc they’re the creator btw, so i imagine they’ve at least encountered one, even if they don’t remember it.

but alternate!archons meeting reader…

if we take that to mean the alternates of the archons, they both recognize you on sight and are either deathly afraid or insanely angry. you’re the one thing that can topple their empire, so they’re either afraid of you for it or pissed off at you. why would you ruin what they’ve built? can’t you see it’s perfect enough?

if we take that to mean corrupted archons being driven to the alternate!creator by their own twisted faith, then….. ough…

corrupted archons who don’t know why they feel so strongly for you, emotions they forgot they had resurfacing with a vengeance. they’re husks, empty shells of gods, puppets who don’t know anything but their ‘god’. their friends have left them and they don’t do anything without a given order, sitting in mental stasis until they’re called upon.

so you?

when you come in, and they feel, and they need, and they have urges and temptations and suddenly it’s as if they’re seeing color for the first time, the beautiful shade of your eyes drawing them back to a world they barely remember.

i can see it going two ways.

either the alternate’s hold on them forces their hand without their meaning to, and they have to watch as they destroy the one light in their life of shadow. their body is hateful when their mind is not, and they have to watch, stuck, as you run in fear, betrayal in your eyes.

or, they still have a semblance of control. they can hiss in a breath, reaching a hand for you, slowly and shaking as they reach, hand outstretched. the corruption within them hisses and seethes, yanking them back from the light, and the best they can do is repress the pull until you’re far enough away that they can scream.

they’re caught in a web they can’t control, strings pulling at their body and telling them to kill, to remove the brightness, and they don’t know whether to follow. they like you, they like the light you bring and how it feels as if everything will be okay, that they don’t have to worry, that they can close their eyes and rest.

the darkness says that your light is evil, that youre made of poison and full of knives. and it’s the only thing they know, so they listen.

(should they?)

[equalseleventhirds]

the whole discussion jon & martin had at the end of this latest ep about religion and god and the afterlife certainly was relevant to dekker’s whole thing abt hope for peace after death, and was possibly foreshadowing angst about somebody dying in the future, and had some interesting implications about martin possibly having that good ol religious-maybe-specifically-catholic guilt mixed in with guilt about his mother (cough filipino martin cough)

but also from a doylist perspective it’s v much ‘the main character is now omniscient which brings up the uncomfortable question of do we now through him confirm one single religious view as True And Real even in the context of a fictional universe, no let’s not do that, here is the explanation of why we are not doing that’ and i was laughing a little bit tbqh

[myriadimagines]

Chips and Orange Soda (part ii)

Brooklyn Nine-Nine One Shot

Pairing: Reader x Jake Peralta

Other Characters: Amy Santiago

Warnings: theft, threats of violence

Summary: When a series of bodegas are robbed, Holt assigns Jake and Rosa on the case. You, a cashier, become a suspect, but Jake has a gut feeling that you’re not a suspect at all. In fact, he thinks you’re the key to solving the case.

Part One: Chips and Orange Soda

Word Count: 2,319

A/N: the second part to my submission for @locke-writes​​‘ writing challenge!! admittedly it gets kind of into an ethical dilemma that i didnt mean to go into and that’s unnecessarily deep but you’ll see what i mean ajskdhas but anyway disclaimer again!! not in law enforcement!!! this is not accurate when it comes to crimes!!! i really hope the reveal/ending isn’t too disappointing and that u guys still enjoyed the story!!! it does get a little more serious in this part but i still hope it’s in character/tone with the show!!

reblog/feedback/comments are very much appreciated!!!

Jake is careful to open up the door of the bodega, which is all bordered up with tape as the shattered glass has yet to be replaced. The inside looks better at least, no longer sectioned off with police tape, and business seems to be going on as usual, with customers in between the aisles and some at the counter. Jake resists the urge to grab a snack for himself, and he glances around the room, frowning as he realises there’s no sight of you.

Jake finally approaches a young man manning the cash register. “Hey man, is y/n in?”

He shakes his head. “Sorry dude, they don’t work Tuesdays.”

Jake smacks the side of his head, remembering how you mentioned it to him. He moves to exit the store when he notices the live security footage playing on the screen behind the counter. Pointing it out, Jake says, “Hey, looks like you got your cameras working again.” 

The man looks over his shoulder, before turning back to Jake with furrowed eyebrows. “What?”

Jake frowns slightly, his hand falling to his side. “y/n told me that your cameras were down last week.” 

The man remains confused, staring at Jake as if he’s speaking another language. Slowly, he finally responds, “Nah, they’ve been working fine. I don’t know what y/n’s talking about.” 

Something inside of Jake’s stomach twists, and he frowns. Despite how hard he’s been trying to defend you, he can’t help but admit to himself that you’re not making it easy. He digs through his pockets, pulling out an old receipt, and he grins to himself as he flips it over and finds your number on the other side. Pulling out his phone, he cringes slightly at his 6% battery level, and he hopes he has enough to make a call.

Dialling in your number, he raises the phone to his ear. It rings a few times before someone finally picks up the phone. Taking in a deep breath, Jake says, “y/n? It’s Jake, the detective from last week. We… we need to talk.” 

—

Jake paces around the briefing room, shaking his head as he tries to piece everything together. After coming back to the precinct following his failed attempt to find you at the bodega, Jake had filled up a corkboard with pictures and other small pieces of evidence he and Rosa were able to gather, although it was looking rather sparse. Your lie about the security cameras definitely presents as an obstacle, but he tries not to think the worst of it. He hasn’t told Rosa yet, who had gone out to meet with the forensics team again, fearing what her reaction would be towards you. Maybe you were mistaken, maybe the robbers managed to figure out a way to wipe the footage. But something about the situation doesn’t sit right with Jake, and he lets out a defeated sigh. 

“Hey, Jake,” Amy peeks her head inside, knocking at the door, and Jake looks up. She gestures back to the bullpen as she continues, “You’ve got someone here to see you. Sounds like they’ve got some information on the bodega robberies.” 

Jake perks up, rushing past Amy out of the room. His eyes widen as he sees you linger by his desk, nervously glancing around the room. He nods as a thank you to Amy before making his way over to you, and he greets, “Hey, y/n, thanks for coming in. How have you been doing?”

You meet Jake’s gaze, and you can’t help but soften at his tone. He seems to genuinely care, and you can’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of guilt. Nodding, you reassure him, “I’m okay. I’m… I’m glad you reached out, actually. There are some things that I need to tell you about. Can we go for a walk?” 

Jake hesitates. He knows that he should probably bring you to the interrogation room instead, but he finds himself nodding. He grabs his leather jacket hanging on the back of his chair, and he nods towards the elevator as he remarks, “Sure. Let’s go.”

—

You and Jake make your way through the streets of Brooklyn, finding yourself at a nearby local park. You can’t help but smile at the sight of children running around, squealing at one another as they chase each other in some sort of game, but you can’t ignore the pit in your stomach, the gnawing guilt that has plagued you ever since your first interaction with Jake.

You finally happen upon an empty bench in a quiet corner of the park and you silently take a seat. Jake sits beside you, and your breath begins to tremble. Jake patiently waits for you, eyes wide with concern as he finds himself shifting closer to you, subconsciously wanting to comfort you despite not knowing what’s to come. 

“I… I haven’t told you everything that I know about the bodega.” you finally confess, and Jake takes in a deep breath. He nods slowly, silently urging you to continue, and you look up to meet his gaze as you continue, “I know who did it. And the other robberies, too.”

Jake stares at you, and you can tell it’s clearly a lot of information to take in. He presses his lips together, trying to process all this, before he quietly asks, “You’re trying to protect someone, aren’t you?” 

Your expression crumples, and your shoulders slump as you bury your face in your hands. You swore to yourself you wouldn’t cry, but as the overwhelming reality of the situation begins to sink in, you’re suddenly finding it hard to breathe. Jake’s expression falls, and despite knowing that the two of you are practically strangers, he wraps an arm around you, gently rubbing his hand up and down your arm as he tries to soothe you. 

“It feels like I’ve been trying to protect him all my life, but I- I feel like I can’t, anymore.” you manage to say through sobs, and Jake frowns, eyebrows furrowing in concern. Gulping, you finally reveal, “My brother.”

Jake sucks in a sharp breath. He’s all too familiar himself with broken homes, with strained familial relationships. You’re almost afraid to look at him, but Jake’s expression is one of understanding, of sympathy. He gently reassures you, “Take all the time you need, alright?” 

You nod, trying to compose yourself the best you can. You fold your hands into your lap, perhaps a poor attempt at stopping them from shaking, and you manage to hold your tears back long enough for you to begin explaining, “It was always just me and my brother, you know? My single mom had to raise us, but we barely saw her because she was always working. But my brother and I always had each other’s backs, and I thought it would be that way forever.”

You’re distracted as a pair of kids dart past you, and Jake notices the bittersweet smile that appears on your face as you watch them. Quietly, he prompts, “When did you feel like things started to go wrong?” 

“I mean, my brother was always a rowdy kid, always getting into trouble, but it just kept getting worse and worse. I’d try to bail him out, but there was only so much I could do.” you continue. “As we got older, I started seeing him less and less. He’d show up whenever he needed help, but that was it. Until he showed up the night before the bodega robbery.”

“He came to see you?” Jake’s eyes widen in alarm, and you nod. You can feel a pit forming in the bottom of your stomach as you think back to that night, and you uneasily run your hands through your hair. 

“I didn’t know he had robbed those other bodegas. But he came around asking for me to let him and his friend in, basically. Asked me for the key. I told him no, that I could just lend him money, and he… he got angry.” your voice shakes slightly as you stare off at some point in the distance. “We’ve had our fights, obviously, but this was different. I was almost scared of him.”

You screw your eyes shut as you remember seeing the smashed in front door, the fear swallowing you whole as you worried what might happen next. Jake doesn’t try to prompt you further, knowing how difficult this must be for you, and he lets out a soft sigh as he wishes that you didn’t have to go through such a thing.

“I don’t want him to go to jail. I just want him to be okay.” you can feel your words getting caught in your throat as you struggle to continue speaking. “But he doesn’t even feel like my brother anymore. That night was just… I- I don’t know what to do anymore.”

“What about the cameras?” Jake quietly asks.

“That was me.” you sigh, nervously wringing your hands together. “I couldn’t sleep that night, so eventually, I… I just got up and went to see if he had really done it. Part of me still had hope that maybe he didn’t. When I saw the door broken in it just… crushed me. I almost feel like he did it on purpose, to scare me. But I still wanted to protect him, so I… I went in to delete the security footage, and rushed out before anyone could see me.”

Jake leans back onto the bench. This is it, he realises. With your revelations, it seems as though the case is solved. But seeing the heartbreak on your face doesn’t make the solved case as satisfying as it usually is.

“I just feel like I’ve failed him.” your shoulders slump, your voice barely audible. “He’s my family I have, and I just… I just wish it didn’t have to be like this.” 

“Hey, you didn’t fail him, y/n,” Jake gently insists, and to your surprise, he reaches out to take your hand, giving it a squeeze. “You’ve been an awesome sibling, better than he deserves, really. But he chose to do this, and that’s not on you.” 

You nod, trying your best to believe him, and from the earnest expression on Jake’s face, you feel like you could. You manage to muster up a smile, and Jake smiles back at you. Nodding back in the direction of the precinct, Jake tells you, “I do need you to need you to come back to the precinct to make a statement. But you’ve really helped us, y/n, and you did the right thing.” 

A part of you has doubts, but you try your best to take comfort in Jake’s words. Jake gets to his feet, and you stand up with him, and Jake offers you a small smile that reassures you that everything will be okay. 

—

You bump the cash machine closed with your elbow as you count out some change. Sliding it over to the customer alongside their bag of snacks, you politely smile at them before they step aside to leave. You wave the next customer in line forward, only to realise it’s Jake standing before you, and your eyes widen as he offers you a sheepish grin. He steps up to the counter, placing down a bag of chips and a bottle of orange soda, and you exchange a knowing smile as you lean forward, “Hey, Jake. Did… did everything go alright?”

“We got him and his buddy.” Jake confirms, and you let out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding. “They tried to give us the slip, but I chased after them.”

You narrow your eyes slightly, and Jake quickly corrects himself, “Okay, Rosa chased after them, but that doesn’t matter.”  

You laugh, and Jake snorts with you before continuing, “There’ll be a trial, obviously. I’ll give you more updates when I hear them.”

You nod, before sliding Jake’s stuff back to him. You don’t even bother ringing his purchase up as you tell him, “It’s on the house.” 

“What? No.” Jake hurriedly searches through his pockets for some change. “You don’t have to do that.”

“It’s the least I can do.” you insist. Jake offers you some cash, but you shake your head. “Seriously, Jake, thank you, for everything.” 

You reach out, closing Jake’s hand, and your gaze lingers on one another as your hand remains on his. He smiles, and Jake feels like his heart might beat out of his chest as you smile back at him. Before he can stop himself, he blurts, “Do you want to get dinner with me sometime?”

You blink at him in surprise, and Jake winces as he worries he might’ve blown it. Stammering, he continues, “It’s, uh, my way of saying thank you. For helping us solve the case. And for the snacks.” 

Jake watches as a smile spreads across your face, and you chew on your lip as if trying to contain your happiness. “Is this a date?”

Jake grins at you. “It can be.” 

“Just tell me when and where.” you nod excitedly, and Jake beams at you. “I’d love to go out with you, Jake.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Jake claps his hands together. He scoops up his snacks, backing away as he continues, “Hey, I’ve got to run back to the precinct, but I’ll text you, okay?”

“Got it.” you nod, grinning from ear to ear. You can’t help but chuckle as you watch Jake clumsily try to open the door, but he stops himself. 

“Oh! By the way,” Jake spins around on his heel. “Do you guys sell batteries?” 

“Um,” you glance over your shoulder at the inventory behind you. “We’ve got some. What kind do you need?”

“It’s for a clock.” Jake sighs, and you raise an eyebrow at his reaction. “It’s… a long story.”

tag list: @myfriendmagislit / @thedamagedcne / @real-fbi / @writinqss / @thisismysecrethappyplace / @natalia-helena-alianova-romanov / @dontjudgemepeepswrites / @hauntedpocdreamer / @locke-writes / @lgbtonystarks / @fangirlsarah16 / @kittensanddarkclouds / @randomfandomimagine / @ofthedewthesunlight / @bravelittlesunflower / @gothicwidowsworld​ / @halfofwhatisayismeaningless / @amirahiddleston / @interwebseriesfan24​

[teawaffles]

The Adventures of John: Chapter 4, Part 2

TW // Mention of abuse

Also, a note for language.

Without even an opportunity for Laura to resist, Sherlock pulled his hand out — and revealed a gorgeous necklace. It wasn’t as if John could remember that necklace itself, but from its elegant sparkle, he judged that it’d been one of the items from their flat.

The despair on Laura’s face only deepened. Beside her, the detective spoke.

“This was stolen from my flat. Since the jewellery was in such a mess, you probably thought it wouldn’t look amiss if just one piece went missing — but that was naive of you,” he said. “Because I have a full grasp of everything that was put there.”

When Laura arrived at their flat, Sherlock had made a show of being indifferent to her request, while making sure that she had taken one of the stolen goods.

To have fully comprehended that chaos — John marvelled at the strength of Sherlock’s memory. During the conversation in the flat, he had persisted in looking out the window, away from Laura: that must’ve been to create a deliberate opening, and test if the girl would help herself to the pile.

Laura had stolen a piece of jewellery from their apartment. Moreover, she’d made up the request to find Dolly. Inevitably, from the two points above, it followed that her goal from the start had been to steal the jewellery. Hence, it formed definite proof that she was one of the thieves’ accomplices.

Confronted by that irreversible reality, Laura was stunned. As for the man, his eyes went bloodshot from anger.

“Y-You’ve gotta be kidding me, you good-for-nothing……. I told you to do it without exposing us—”

Hearing that, Sherlock piped up in a cool voice.

“Shall I take that as a confession? Though, there is still the argument that this kid Laura here is just another one of you vagrants, and you guys have nothing to do with the ring of thieves.”

The man spat on the ground.

“Hmph, I’ve no interest flogging that argument anymore. ——Let’s settle this the fast way.”

Saying that, he drew a small revolver from his pocket, and levelled it at Sherlock. Following suit, a few men among the group also whipped out knives and guns. The remaining crowd cried out softly in fear.

“If we dispatch the both of you right here, the truth’ll remain buried, eh?”

At that unsettling line, his armed accomplices also broke into twisted smiles.

But despite being held at gunpoint, Sherlock seemed particularly unmoved. He observed their actions, and narrated his own view.

“From the looks of it, you lot are the ringleaders, while the rest seem to have been threatened into compliance.”

“Yeah: with just a little bit of a beating, they’ll do anything we ask,” the man smirked.

But Sherlock was calm as he replied.

“From that, I gather not all of you are friends. And seeing how you resort to violence to settle things right away: you’re probably a hoodlum accustomed to crime, aren’t ya?”

“Hoodlum? You’re not wrong, but call us a group of clever thieves if you can. After all, I’ve skilfully manipulated these scum and carried out some brilliant thefts.”

Drunk on his own accomplishments, the man threw a glance at Laura. She hadn’t budged from where she stood; protecting her head, she cowered on the ground in sheer terror. From that, one could easily imagine what maltreatment she and the others had suffered at the hands of these thugs.

His heart filled with rage, John glared at the man.

“That means you forced them to commit crimes, didn’t you?”

“Call it making effective use of them, Doctor Watson,” he drawled. “These people all live on a pittance of a daily income. No one would care if they’re gone. I’ve given them a rather fine job until now, but this time, she just had to screw up. ——As I thought, brats are useless after all!”

“……I-I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

He shouted at Laura, and she repeated that apology over and over as she sobbed.

“You……”

“John, you’re right to be angry, but please calm down.”

At the unforgivable sight before him, the detective’s assistant had balled his hands into fists, but Sherlock persuaded him to keep his cool.

“Ah…… Sorry to get back to the topic, but let me give you some clarity on this case.”

“Huh?”

As before, Sherlock’s demeanour lacked any sort of tension, and his opponent frowned. But the detective paid no heed to that as he continued.

“To sum up the story thus far: the bunch of louts brandishing their weapons here are the ringleaders behind the thefts, and the other vagrants and street merchants were forcibly…… ‘used’, if I were to borrow your words?”

“Yeah, that’s right. You could say that they’re all expendables to be exploited as I please. To have so skilfully manipulated them — I bet my abilities rival those of that rumoured ‘Lord of Crime’ or something.”

“……Well.”

At that name, Sherlock’s eye twitched. But he showed no further reaction than that as he replied.

“In other words, to you guys, their names and faces aren’t even worth remembering?”

“That’s an odd way to put it, but exactly. They’re all disposable — do you really think I can remember all of them? ……That said, how long are you gonna keep prattling on like that? I don’t know if you’re just trying to buy time, but it’s time for you to die.”

Running out of patience, the man broke off their conversation, and moved to pull the trigger: fully intending to shoot the detective and his assistant.

However, Sherlock’s smile remained bold as ever.

“——That’s it then. I’ve gotten your word.”

That instant, John couldn’t believe his eyes.

Among the crowd of vagrants, the ones who were shrouded in hoods — separate from the ringleaders — were now aiming guns at the criminals.

“……Huh?”

“——Don’t move.”

One of the mysterious figures commanded sternly, keeping his gun trained on the lead criminal. Stunned by this sudden development, the man complied; and with his other hand, the figure slowly drew back his hood.

“……Inspector Lestrade?”

Out of sheer astonishment, John murmured the person's name.

The man in the hood, was Inspector Lestrade of Scotland Yard. Facing the lead criminal, he spoke in a determined voice.

“From the conversation earlier, it’s clear that you have threatened the poor and coerced them into crime. I’ll hear the details at the station. Don’t even think about resisting.”

Then, the other figures removed their hoods and revealed their faces. One after the other, they confiscated the weapons from the stunned hoodlums. Though they weren’t wearing uniforms, from their practised actions, it was clear that they were police officers.

“W-What the devil is going on……?”

Tonight had been a night of many surprises for this detective. John was yet unable to wrap his head around the situation, and once again, he asked himself a question he’d thought about countless times today.

“Everything’s exactly as you’ve witnessed, John. When I identified this place, I contacted Lestrade at the same time, then got the officers to disguise themselves as tramps and hide among the crowd.”

“But why?”

“If I’d just called in the Yard as usual, we wouldn’t have been able to identify the ringleaders among this large a crowd.”

Sherlock stated that conclusion in brief, then began to explain.

“As I thought about the thieves’ actions, I judged that there was probably a mastermind separate from the ones committing the actual crimes, who was controlling them from behind the scenes. Hence, there was a need to identify this mastermind; but even if the Yard were to round up the entire group of vagrants, like what that ruffian told me earlier, they could just say that they had no relation to the ring of thieves — and that would be the end of it. Moreover, it still wasn’t clear who the ringleaders were, and the ring members who were being threatened would’ve likely been warned not to blab. So, in order to smoke out the ringleaders and elicit a confession, I added a bit of an act.”

Then, the detective looked at Lestrade, and the corners of his mouth twitched upward.

“——Well, about the disguises: I’d thought about where the police squad could hide themselves, and decided it would be better for them to mingle with the crowd, so they wouldn’t have to sneak about all weirdly.”

“W-Wha— What a stupid……”

Upon hearing the truth, the man’s earlier triumphant attitude had devolved into a disgraceful, incredulous one. This time, Sherlock laughed out loud.

“Sure, you can make people follow you, but you’ll also have to keep tabs on them properly. In the first place, when this location was discovered, didn’t it occur to you that I would call in the Yard? You can pretend to be a mastermind, but with your lack of foresight, even the Lord of Crime would laugh.”

“S……Shite.”

“Oi, watch what you say from here on. It’ll be used as evidence against you in court.”

Lestrade warned the man as he clapped him in irons; accepting his defeat, he hung his head bitterly. For a villain who’d exploited people in poverty, and boasted of rivalling the Lord of Crime: it was a downright dreadful ending.

✦ ✦ ✦ ✦

“I’ll always be in your debt, Holmes. And the same goes for you, Dr Watson.”

As he watched the arrested criminals being taken away, Lestrade thanked the detective duo.

However, in contrast to the inspector’s earnest attitude, Sherlock put a hand over his mouth as he tried to suppress his laughter.

“Lestrade. Sorry for saying this when you’re being so serious, but…… you looked surprisingly good as a tramp.”

“H-Hey! That’s rude, Sherlock!”

“By Jove, Sherlock……”

John chided the detective, and Lestrade let out an astonished sigh.

“……Anyway, I’m grateful for your help in resolving this case.”

“Yeah, let me know when you have another interesting mystery next time.”

After that simple exchange, the inspector left to join the other police officers.

Then, Laura — the central figure from today — and an old woman from among the vagrants walked over to them.

“——U-Um, Dr Watson.”

The girl stood right before John. She bit her lip, and sank into a deep bow.

“I’m so sorry for tricking you!”

Laura blurted that out in a loud voice. Then, the old woman also bowed solemnly.

Met with their sincere apologies, John spoke up in a kind voice.

“It’s alright. You had no choice — all of you were being threatened.”

“B-But…… I……”

“Don’t worry about it. In any case, won’t it be tough for you all from here on?”

With a start, Laura realised what he meant, and dropped her gaze. Though they had been coerced into thievery, it was still a fact that they had broken the law. Hence, in order to furnish the details to the Yard, all of them would be taken in for questioning.

The atmosphere turned slightly gloomy, and Sherlock piped up.

“You don’t have to be so serious about it, y’know. Seeing as all of you had been forced into those crimes, the Yard’ll treat you more leniently.”

“Y-You’re right.”

John knew that Sherlock was deliberately being optimistic, in an effort not to worry them both. Hence, though it was a little awkward, John agreed with him.

Perhaps the matter wasn’t as simple as Sherlock had described, but the events from now on would be out of their hands entirely. Hoping that Lestrade would speak well in their defence, John changed the topic somewhat forcibly.

“……By the way, is this lady a relative of yours?”

Hearing that, Laura brightened up, and introduced the old woman.

“Yes, she’s my grandmother; we’ve been making a living together selling food.”

“Truly, please accept my sincere apologies for what happened.”

Hearing the old woman’s husky voice, John finally understood the awkward exchange he had witnessed between them at the park. Seeing as they were family, it was only natural for Laura to be more relaxed around her; moreover, the old woman’s faltering tone had surely been due to her guilt at deceiving him.

John nodded in understanding. Then, Laura took out a small pouch.

“That and this…… Here’s the full amount we’ve taken from you, Dr Watson. Please accept it.”

“Ah, I see. I’d forgotten all about the money. Thank you.”

John was about to reach for the pouch, when all of a sudden, a thought struck him — and he stopped.

“……Um, is something the matter?”

Seeing him freeze up, Laura tilted her head. Then, John withdrew his hand, and instead held up the bag full of items he’d bought from the street merchants.

“‘Taken’? What’re you saying? I bought these of my own accord. I can’t see any issues with them, so I’ve no intention of getting a refund.”

“……Eh?”

“Isn’t that right? I negotiated properly with the merchants in the parks, and bought these items as a customer. There was no trickery at all.”

John asserted that proudly, and beside him, he heard Sherlock chuckle.

Of course, what John said was by no means a show of bravado that he hadn’t been tricked. Laura had been moved by his kindness throughout the day; in an instant, she sensed the emotions imbued in his words. But even so, she knitted her brows, looking troubled.

“Still, I really should return this to you.”

She then offered him the pouch again, but John gently pushed it away.

“Laura, in all honesty, the walnuts your grandmother sold me were delicious. For products that good, it’s only right that I pay a fair price for them.”

His smile was full of warmth as he continued.

“If I happen to see your stall again, I’ll be sure to buy from you.”

“Dr Watson……”

This time, Laura did not press the matter.

She held the pouch as if it were a treasure, and her face brimmed with smiles.

“——Alright. When we see each other again, I’ll be sure to prepare lots of walnuts for you.”

“Yeah, I’m looking forward to that.”

Then, John bade goodbye to Laura and her grandmother; and with his “loot” in hand, he left the scene with Sherlock.

[not-me-simping-for-blasty]

HI HELLO I WOULD LIKE TO EXPRESS MY LOVE AND ADMIRATION FOR U AND BOW DOWN TO UR CREATIVE WRITING GENIUS AND GODLINESS IN AN EXTREMELY LONG ASK

i would also like to say, “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGJJGSLJJSKDJJJFJKSDFJSJFJSODJFDFJ”

that was live footage of me reading wrong number asshole bECAUSE THAT SERIES WAS JUST SO ❗️❗️❗️DAMN ❗️❗️❗️GOOD❗️❗️

Everything. the nervous and overthinking reader. bakugo being a major douchebag tsundere. wingman kirishima. the GOD-TIER HUMOR. THE POP ROCKS!!!!!! EVERYTHING WAS ABSOLUTELY SPECTACULAR.

I’ll be honest, when i realized it was part smau i was like ehhhh i dont rly know BUT U BLEW MY EXPECTATIONS COMPLETELY OUT OF THE WATER. you ... YOU are such a RARE tumblr gem and i say that bc there are only a few select people who have the ✨quality✨ of writing that you do. And I’m a very picky reader, so that’s saying something. I really, REALLY loved the way u portray bakugo. Because he’s more than just an angry Pomeranian, he also has his own insecurities and things that he genuinely really cares about. And i think it just goes to show how good of a writer you are because i can tell you really did a deep character analysis of him and it was anything but superficial.

i read wrong number for the first time back in may and was secretly reading it during math class AND SO many hours of sleep were lost over this but it was 100% worth it 😁😁😁

at the end of pretty much every chapter was me just screaming into my pillow in the darkness of my room at like 2 am. i also just recently reread it and OH MY GOD i forgot how funny the first few parts are. Also !!! The way i fRICKIN RELATE TO Y/N JESUS CHRIST I FELT EVERYTHING IN MY SOUL

here are some of my favorite lines from the series:

“But I also think you tend to fixate on reasons to leave instead of looking for reasons to stay.”

Yeahhhhh, when i read this for the first time I literally said oof. out loud. because that’s literally me. This line just,,, hit me yk.

It was an insecurity of yours, always believing that you had to be the one in the wrong. That the only reason someone could ever be upset was because you made them that way.

YEAH REMEMBER HOW I SAID I RELATED TO Y/N. YEAH. IT”S THIS.

Instead of him, it was just you- alone and waiting and etched with a ugly tattoo you should’ve never expected to guarantee forever.

ok so i rly like this line partly because again, i relate, but also just the WORDS. UGHHH that last part “you should’ve never expected to guarantee forever’ STOP EYE-

It’s strange- the way your heart seems to be breaking entirely and rebuilding itself completely all at the same time. It’s a wave crashing against your ribs- pushing and pulling and tumbling and pushing and pulling and turning and twisting and- calming when you look at his face. When you look at the way his hair sits and the way his jaw slopes and the way his eyes meet yours. It’s death and completetion and rebirth and red, red wildfire.

It’s your old life scorching and curling and burning up. And it’s your new, better, warmer life rising from the ashes.

AAAAAAASKDFJSDKLFJDS THE IMAGERY THE RHYTHM OH MY GOODNESS THE TALENT

Something in his eyes seems so tiny and small and unsure at your words, and it breaks your heart. There aren’t enough words in the world for all you want to say in that moment, so you just take his head in your hands, kiss him with every bit of care and concern you hold for him.

When you pull back, he won’t look at you, his cheeks gone nearly as red as his vulnerable eyes. His shoulders shake, and he takes a deep breath, turning his head to place a tiny little kiss into the palm of your hand. He doesn’t say anything, but the tiny action communicates almost everything you need to know.

PLS BC I AM VERY TOUCHSTARVED SO JUST THE IDEA OF BAKUGO KISSING MY PALM AAAAHHHHHHHH

Bakugou fights it, going rigid and stiff and resitant at first. He hardly looks at you, just barely, but you catch his gaze and nod. It’s all it takes before he’s allowing himself to sink into you, his arms pulling you closer.

It’s hesitancy, than acceptance and than desperation, and suddenly he’s holding you so tightly, clutching at you like you’re gonna fade. Like you’ll slip through his calloused fingers. It makes you ache. Sends volts of throbbing pain through your chest that have you squeezing him tighter.

It makes you want to sob- the way he seemed so resistant to softness despite being so obviously starved for it. You wondered if anyone else had stuck around this long; if anyone else had noticed just how desperate he was for someone to finally hear him.

again. THE IMAGERY. JUST SEEING HIM SLOWLY MELT INTO A HUG AND THEN SQUEEZE YOU AS TIGHT AS HUMANLY POSSIBLE AAAAAAAAA SOMEONE GIVE THIS TOUCHSTARVED BOI A KISS ON THE FOREHEAD oh wait y/n already did that ahaha

The completion you’d felt from this kiss far surpassed the charged kisses from earlier. This was kissing him just because you could, because you wanted to, and you were sure this was heaven- at least, as close to heaven as any one human should ever be allowed to get.

It felt like flying, like hurtling above the earth and surging through the clouds. Like you were Icarus and you breached the atmosphere to soar against the surface of the sun. His hands fell to the base of your spine, pressing you firmly against him, and suddenly you knew. Knew it for sure, in your bones like it’d always been carved in there-you might’ve been Icarus, but he’d never let you fall. You would get to blister and scorch and burn for as long as you’d wanted but your wax would never melt. There was no fear when falling with him. Falling for him.

You pull away, but you don’t go too far. Don’t think you could separate even if you tried. Katsuki was an addiction, a powerful, potent thing and the only salve for that itch in your skin was being close to him. As close as you could possibly manage.

NOT THE ICARUS METAPHOR PLS ARE U TRYING TO MAKE ME FALL EVEN MORE IN LOVE WITH THIS SERIES EYE- ONCE AGAIN UR WRITING TALENT BLOWS ME AWAY

“Good.” He mumbles juvenilely, looking anywhere to avoid your eyes. “Die then. Fuckin’ burn, you witch.”

I remember the first time i read this i FRICKIN DIED OMG IT WAS SO FUNNY i was crying at like 3 am

Grabbing his chin, you pulled him in, guiding until his lips met yours. You felt him smile as you kissed him, and you realized you were wrong. That first real kiss might’ve been nice; but it wasn’t heaven- itwas only the gateway to paradise. But this? This was the real Elysium.

His body moved against yours, so close and warm and pliant. He was letting you set the pace, without resistance or force or argument for the very first time. There had been a lot of past kisses, you had hardly been able to keep yourself off of him, but none of them had never felt like this before. He’d never trusted you like this before. You got to be the one taking and taking and taking where’d you spent so long giving.

It was consummation. Finality. Your perfect ending.

*SCREAMS*

AGAIN WITH THE GREEK MYTHOLOGY THIS REALLY IS THE PERFECT FIC ON GOD

i’ll have u know that this is my Official Designated Comfort Fic (insert trademark symbol).

THANK YOU. YOU ARE A WRITING GOD. I BOW DOWN TO YOUR GREATNESS. Also sorry for this extremely long ask and the overwhelming use of caps lock

have u ever,, have u ever read something that brings literal tears to ur eyes. that brings so much serotonin that its almost criminal

bc this, this ask is everything for me. u rllY SAID THAT MY FIC IS UR DESIGNATED COMFORT FIC?? THATS MY FAVORITE THING ANYONE HAS EVER SAID TO ME

YOU HAVE FAVORITE LINES?? FROM SOMETHING I WROTE??? DO U- I literally cannot even begin to describe how much this means to me.

@ur-local-reality-shifter , i adore u my lovely

[fullmetalscullyy]

if you're still accepting prompts, could you do "shh, it’s okay. it was just a dream"?

always, anon <3 and it's funny u should suggest that prompt bc i just wrote something for it a few weeks ago! and you can find it here, already on ao3

so now, u have two for the price of one :') that fic was a young!riza pov, so how about a post-canon roy pov this time? tysm for the prompt and the ask!!!

rated: t | words: 1819 | tags: nightmares, angst, hurt/comfort, post-canon, royai, promised day memories

read on ao3

Roy’s body jerked violently in his bed. His legs kicked outwards, shifting the sheet off of his searing skin and knocking it onto the floor. The cool night air blanketed his body instantly, trying, but ultimately failing, to ease his distress. His dream continued to linger painfully, jolting him upright into a seated position, causing both hands to land flat by his sides to maintain some semblance of balance while his head swung from left to right, searching the inky black stretching out before him. Roy saw nothing, which only made him panic even more.

Am I blind again?

The thought appeared unbidden in his mind. A part of him knew he wasn’t, but he was so disorientated and startled by his nightmare that he seriously considered it. He couldn’t go through that again, though. The dream couldn’t have been real. No, he couldn’t be blind. This couldn’t be happening again –

A light flicked on inside the room, making him pause for a second. He blinked, seeing his legs and the rest of his bed stretched out before him, reaching towards the pale blue wall.

He was in his bedroom, not sitting on cold, brown bricks, devoid of any comfort or warmth.

A dream… It was just a dream.

Roy exhaled sharply and took another deep breath, gulping down the air as reality slowly started to trickle back to him. The second exhale left him at a slower pace, but it still rattled passed his lips as he tried to stop terror from constricting his heart painfully. Heat flashed across his brow and chest and that’s when Roy noticed the sweat. He was drenched in it, courtesy of the fear that still lingered inside of him.

“Roy?”

The voice was quiet and thick with sleep as she called to him. At first it was surprised, but then instantly alert. Not that Roy could focus on anything outside of the horrifying images – and also memories – still in his mind’s eye, but if he could, he’d have noticed the mattress shift next to him and dip as she sat up immediately, eyeing him with concern.

She had surely caught onto what had happened. To what had made him react so badly in the middle of the night. Roy knew he must have looked a state, and that was what had probably given him away, but he didn’t care, because she was okay. She hadn’t been hurt. She wasn’t dead. They were both safe in his apartment together, out of harm’s way and far away from any kind of danger.

Roy slumped back against his pillows and draped an arm across his eyes. His chest was still heaving with his breath while he struggled to get it under control and wetness seeped out from beneath his lids, dampening the skin of his forearm and wrist. The tears had followed him from his dream to a conscious state and Roy clamped his eyelids closed tightly, willing them to stop so he could try and get a handle on his emotions.

Shame flushed through him. Not because someone was there to witness his struggle, for he would lay himself bare for her without question. It was because he’d fallen for a trap. It had been a trick by the enemy. Even if it was a dream, it had cost him dearly, and his Lieutenant had paid the price for his failings. It had caused turmoil and upset to follow him to his waking sate, affecting him so deeply that when he awoke, he still couldn’t tell what was real and what wasn’t. The vividness of it had left him completely stricken.

His Lieutenant had almost died on him before, all those years ago, and his mind had decided to make him relive it, out of the blue, exaggerating all that happened and making it so much worse.

Nightmares were like old friends to Roy, but they were still a struggle. They never really got any easier to deal with or experience. Especially when they were as intense as this one had been. Especially when they involved her dying, either in his arms because he was too late, or while he was restrained by the enemy, unable to comfort her, get help for her, or save her.

Those were the worst ones.

A palm was placed gently atop his head. He flinched at the unexpected contact and his body tensed. Then, fingers came to rest upon his scalp gently and a thumb stroked over his forehead, right between his eyebrows. It moved repeatedly in a calming motion, relaxing his tightly wound muscles, and causing his mind to falter and trip at its racing speed once or twice.

Her touch brought him back down to earth.

“Shh,” she soothed him, “it's okay. It was just a dream.”

Her comfort was incredibly welcoming as her hands combed through his damp hair without protest or complaint. He could feel it clinging uncomfortably to his face and the back of his neck, but Riza freed him from it. The wet strands were pushed away from his cheeks and ears, making him sigh quietly as he started to feel some relief. Her voice was heaven-sent in that moment of strife for him. A buoy in raging waves; something to cling on to so he could survive and get his bearings. It was like a light rain falling over embers of pain of sorrow, washing them away like a salve being applied atop the charred ground.

She was his rescuer from the darkest confines of his own mind.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Her question was incredibly quiet, so she didn’t startle him.

Always so incredibly perceptive and considerate of others.

Roy shook his head and let out a shaky breath. If he opened his mouth his voice would break. He wasn’t ready to reveal all. He would happily tell Riza Hawkeye everything, but he couldn’t just yet. Not when he’d failed her. Again. Not when his mind was happily reminding him of that fact.

Shame flushed through him once more like an unforgiving storm surge.

“Take your time,” she announced emphatically. “I’m right here.”

And that’s all Roy ever needed.

He rolled onto his side and wrapped his arms around her waist. Riza had sat up in bed and remained there, watching over him as he tried to calm himself. His face was buried into her stomach as desperate hands clung to the shirt on her back. Riza placed both hands atop his head and stilled, letting him get comfortable before she moved them again. They continued to comb through his hair soothingly, offering a comfort only she could ever give him.

“It was a nightmare,” he mumbled against her. “Promised Day.”

Riza’s hands stilled for a second after his reveal, then continued their ministrations.

“I see.”

Roy nodded against her. They were well aware of how each other had struggled while sleeping in the aftermath of that day.

“It was…” He took a deep breath. “You,” he exhaled, as if that would answer all of her questions at once. And Roy knew it would. “What happened to you that day. And I… I was stuck. I couldn’t do anything –” Roy snapped his mouth shut, remembering seeing the light leave her eyes so clearly inside his nightmare, like a safety beacon that had winked out, leaving only darkness, despair, and horror in its wake.

“It’s okay,” she reassured. Her tone said it all. She sounded pained, knowing exactly how he’d suffered because his poor, broken, explanation had been enough for her to conclude what he’d seen in his dream.

“I was too late,” he whispered. It sounded deafening in the quiet of his bedroom.

Riza was silent as she continued to run her hands through his hair. She didn’t comment, but in some way that was worse. Roy scrunched his eyes up tightly for a few seconds before relaxing, pulling away from her.

He’d failed her again.

He didn’t get to retreat far, though. Riza’s hands followed his movements to the letter, anticipating them perfectly, moving from being buried within his hair to cupping his cheeks. She gently guided his face upwards, so it was finally facing her. Finally looking her in the eye. Fear licked around his stomach, twisting it, suddenly afraid of judgement for his lack of support. It was irrational – Riza Hawkeye would never do such a thing – but he was still shaken and distraught.

What Roy found made his breath catch. Her smile was small and soft. It was so her – nothing too flashy, but reserved and fiercely loving, just like the look in her eyes. It was a smile she saved only for him.

His breath hitched again.

“You weren’t too late, remember?” Her head shook from side to side slowly as she attempted to dispel his anxiety. Her hands dropped and latched onto one of his, guiding it upwards so it now rested over her beating heart.

The feeling was strong beneath his scarred palms, thumping inside of her with such strength – the same attitude she embodied every day in everything she did. Steady, dependable, and courageous.

“Like always, I’m right here. I’m never going anywhere.”

Roy leaned forwards quickly, overcome with impulse, and claimed her lips with his own. A hand buried into her short hair, cupping the back of her neck tenderly as he kissed her with such reverence and adoration.

“Thank you,” he breathed. His hand shifted on her chest to become more comfortable when his fingers bumped into and grazed over something solid and misshapen underneath her shirt.

Roy blinked, then slowly smiled knowingly. Riza returned it, realising what he’d discovered, but she also looked pleased his heartache had been banished and eased for a brief second.

It was the wedding ring he’d given her years ago, attached to her dog tags. The one that was identical to his own.

It was a reminder that they were tied together completely, and always would be. They’d set themselves on a path they could not deviate from, it was absolute, and they must succeed, but they’d do it together. They would remain as one throughout it all.

Their foreheads tipped together, coming to rest quietly against one another and Roy focussed on the sound of her breathing and the feeling of the ring. He tethered himself to them both, slowing his own breaths to match hers.

She was right there by his side, like she always was and had promised she'd be, so long ago. The odds had almost pulled them apart once before but hadn’t succeeded. Roy wouldn’t let his dreams get the better of him either. There were always demons to fight, but Roy was thankful he had her watching over him, and vice versa. There was no one else in the world he’d trust to watch his back. And they’d fight them all together, side by side. Unyielding and relentless.

[the-tick-tock-chaos-shoppe]

🖊

Oh! Oh beloved, hold whomever you are gently, hmmm oh I’ll tell u a bit about a webcomic random character I got :0 a side one since I go overboard in world building but! Here I am h-

Rem, The goddess of sleep,

Rem is a goddess of not immense power but just enough it makes people fear but admire her, she is in fact considered a minor god, though in honesty there is no real major gods in this world besides the most worshipped really :0! Rem (yes the pun there was intentional) is a very peculiar lady, not often to interact with her fellow gods :0 and it’s not due to her own sleep! It’s due to how work filled her days are, when ever one attempts to rest she holds a speed like no other, as a moment of contact with her brings one to sleep :]

typically one can’t see her threw the night sky, however certain blessings or simple technology you can see her bouncing house to house window from window, or whatever location she can enter is :0! Though you may think she’s amazing at her job she isn’t quite

in this world the explanation for one’s who can’t sleep (insomnia or other things not relating to nightmares, after all that’s her sisters job, not hers), is that she was unable to go to their house or to them when they attempted to rest, and only realized such after sending all the other people at that time to sleep. Having to return to their home to put them to sleep (though on occasions she doesn’t remember, not dropping by at all).

a phrase in the world amongst some species is instead of ‘can you not sleep?’ Is ‘did sleep not catch you?’ As some have attempted running from sleep :0 it doesn’t often work. Though if you purposefully stay up the question is more so “are you running from sleep?” As previously mentioned :0!

now what about situations where people pass out at random? This is where Rem accidentally touches someone while she’d traveling, she cannot awake someone so often she leaves it be, but as she does not fly, but jump high and run fast, it’s an occasional instance she may accidentally bap a fellow and send them snoring.

she is also considered a tale by many :] as her name (not only meaning rapid eye movement) also is told as a caution for kids, so they don’t attempt to stay up at night, else the goddess of sleep will find them and lure them to an endless dream

of course, that’s a bit twisted from reality, she does in fact send kids (or sometimes adults too :0) she finds out and about during the night asleep, but often returns them to their home, often people who have been put to sleep in such a way as peaceful, like being gentle held by you’re own mother.

last thing is her a bit- weird side :0! After all most gods and goddesses have- a bit of a concerning side to them, those cautionary tales didn’t fully lie at the end there, just was the wrong circumstance. It’s often said jokingly ‘don’t speak to sleep herself lest you wish to marry’ however it’s a rare occurrence that if you do bond with Rem, there’s a possibility she may put you into a coma :0 often getting her sister to provide the most pleasant dreams for the person, visiting them in their sleep in her down time. When put into this you’re not often aware of how long it is :0 so to you it just feels like a fun lil fantasy dream, with a pretty lady :0!

last last thing is just a design thing about her :] it’s that she has 3 eyes :0 (or as many eyes as one has sleep stages :0!) but only one pupil that passes in-between, rapidly so :] so if you are to look at her it’s not recommended to make eye contact, as some say it brings headaches how fast her pupil moves

ah buts that’s it :]! I can say personality wise she’s very calm despite her laborious job, her voice always soft, the only time she may prove distressed at any point is if she was unable to set someone to sleep :0 which she often will go panic to Miss Time about if such occurs :]

ah but thank you for the ask!! I always love rambling about OCs :]!! I have an OC blog at the moment called @look-at-all-these-ocs :0! With all sorts of OC art :] thank you for reading if you did ^^!

[weasleypogues]

newbie on set pt.2 (r.p)

so i got a lot of requests saying to do a part two so i hope u guys enjoy lol :) also!!!! i’m gonna put little twists on it here and there because it’s going to be like shes going into season 2 and sarah and john b are in the bahamas

read part 1 if you haven’t already :D

part 3 part 4

tag list for the series so far: ivebeenthinkingboutu nas-marie-loves-u k-k0129 

masterlist.

after a lot of preparation with fittings, readings, rehersals, and everything in between, you were finally shooting today. you and the cast had excitedly texted back and forth in the group chat but rudy made sure he also texted you on the side as he was eager to still get to know you.

you, madelyn, and madison sat in the makeup and hair trailer, gushing about the scenes you were shooting today and how excited you guys were to just be in south carolina and have fun like they did last year.

“did you see the tiktok i sent you?” madison asked madelyn, giggling and glancing at you because you were the once to convince madison to send it in the first place. madelyn glared at the two of you snickering, as she rolled her eyes but couldn’t fight back the giggle.

“yes! i did! i see them everywhere. ‘relax b john, i have a gutter, get you’re head out of the brother’ or ‘it’s not like i’ve never seen a gutter before, get your head out of your ass john b’, they literally fill up my page!” madelyn responded, laughing her ass off. you guys were referring to the hundreds of tiktoks that mocked that line in the first season. you threw your headback in laughter, tears coming out of your eyes. your hairdresser lola glared at you playfully and placed your head forward again because you kept interrupting her. you blew her a kiss in the mirror as a joke and she laughed.

“you guys are something else..” she trailed off, a huge smile upon her face. 

“are you nervous for today (y/n/n)?” madison turned to you and asked. you let your cheeks fill up with air before letting the breath out slowly, in deep thought. you hated to say it but you were literally terrified. you didn’t want to be the reason that a scene that should’ve taken maybe 60 minutes at most to shoot could take longer because you weren’t working to your full potential. “i’ll take that hesitation as a yes..”

“i just don’t wanna fuck up. like no one does, but if i did it on my first day it would be all i think about.” you responded, twidling with your thumbs.

“you did amazing at the table read and great at rehearsals, you’re gonna do great today.” madeyln smiled, reassuring you. “especially......because your first scene is with rudy today.” she smirked, sending a wink your way.

you felt your face grow hot and cowered in your seat slightly, but not enough that lola couldn’t continue working on your hair. you and rudy had been texting nonstop ever since you guys left the restaraunt after the first table read. you have to admit, he was very flirty but you always seemed to psych yourself out because you caught on that he was just an outgoing and friendly guy. but madison and madelyn snapped you back to reality that he wouldn’t play footsie’s with just anyone or constantly text them if it wasn’t something that crossed his mind. 

someone with an earpiece, walkie talkie, and clipboard walked onto the trailer saying that he needed you and madison for a scene. as sarah and john b were in the bahamas, you guys weren’t getting any scenes with them for a little while. you walked out of the trailer with string bracelets and other accessories practically covering your wrists, neck, and ankle to make you look more summer-y and pogue like. you walked towards where you guys were shooting a scene in the wreck and placed the apron around your body, talking to madison. 

“lady pogue! baby pogue!” you heard a familiar boy yell and you turned around to see rudy and jonathan. jonathan had on a green tshirt and grey cargo shorts, accessorized with a beaded necklace and a hat on backwards. you pulled him in for a hug first until he was pulled away suddenly. before you knew it, you were in rudy’s arms being given probably the best hug in the world. you giggled and looked up at him as you pulled away.

“you just couldn’t resist me, i get it.” you joked and raised your eyebrows. rudy laughed and let a smirk grow onto his makeup-bruised face.

“how’d you know?” he responded somewhat sarcastically. you rolled your eyes and pushed him away playfully, in doing so you admired his arms as he wore a white tanktop and backwards hat as well. 

“you guys ready to get started?” you all heard jonas yell out and you let out a deep, nervous breath and nodded. 

“you got this, (y/n).” madison reassured you, rubbing your arm lightly before the three of them got into their spots at a table at the wreck. you fixed your hair slightly, hiding your script from plain shot of the camera and tightened in apron that wrapped around your waist.

juliet walked towards the group of three pogues sitting at a picnic table at the wreck. she had just moved to the outer banks with her parents and brother for some business thing that involved her parents and real estate. however, whatever sum of money her family had didn’t stop her from finding a job and getting out to do her own thing. nick carrera was kind enough to give a sixteen year old girl with no restaraunt experience a shot at waitressing at the wreck. he said it wasn’t difficult and that his daughter, kiara, had fun. 

juliet had worked a couple of shifts with kiara and they had fun but juliet didn’t want to over step her boundaries. her next table to serve was kiara and her two friends, jj and pope? juliet couldn’t remember if that was their names or not. kiara had talked about them but said that it had been a couple of months since they’ve seen each other because they lost two friends at sea. juliet decided it was probably still a touchy subject and didn’t want to invade anymore in fear of upsetting kiara. 

however, kiara did mention that she had not seen pope or jj in a long time. juliet wasn’t sure if they had agreed to take some space or they drifted apart because of the lost friends. so when juliet saw kiara sitting at a table with two boys that fit the descriptions of her old friends, it clicked in her head. they looked like they were in a deep conversation and she thought maybe she should give them a second instead of interrupting them for a simple drink order. juliet shook her head to snap out those thoughts and walked up to the trio.

“hey kie, anything i can get for you guys to drink?” she built up the courage to ask, giving a small smile to the trio with her pen and paper in hand.

“just waters good for me, juliet. boys?” kiara started, sending a kind smile back to her. 

“same here.” pope brought up, fiddling with his fingers as it was clear they were in the middle of a deep conversation. juliet lowered her head to write on the paper and felt a wave of regret wash over her because she felt bad for interrupting the rekindling group.

“juliet? like romeo and juliet?” jj asked, looking at juliet with a small smirk on his face. juliet took a second to take in the fact that the blond kid in front of her face was bruised and cut up. he clearly fucked with the wrong people, probably kooks from old stories kiara had told her on break one day. juliet nodded with an awkward smile.

“like shakespeare intended.” juliet responded, fixing her hair slightly as a natural mannerism. 

“got a romeo? or do you want one?” jj replied with a wink. even in character, you felt your cheeks get hot because if you remembered the script correctly, that was not rudy’s line. he improvised. as you all played off that improvised line, kiara kicked jj from under the table which jj didn’t hesistate to flinch and rub his shin. “fiesty...”

kiara looked up at juliet, sending her an uncomfortable smile in a way of saying ‘sorry for him, he’s always this stupid’. “he’ll just take a water.” kiara flat out said because jj just failed to respond to juliet’s initial question.

“on the rocks!” jj joked to ease the awkwardness as juliet walked back towards the wreck to fetch them their drinks.

you heard the director yell cut and let your body somewhat relax from it’s on screen state and turned back around. “cute line, rudy! s’all you got?” you hollered over towards the trio, as you walked towards them. 

“c’mon, you gotta admit, that was funny. i had to make it a little more authentic!” rudy defended himself with his hands up. you rolled your eyes and shoved him slightly on the shoulder for almost messing you up on the first day if it wasn’t for the rest of the cast who played along so well. you let your elbow rest on his shoulder, exchanging a couple of words between madison, johnathan, and rudy in between takes. now you understood what all the hype was about.

---

after a long day at work, you packed up your backpack in your trailer, pulling your charger out of the socket. as you glanced around one last time, making sure you didn’t forget anything you heard a knock at your door. 

“come in!” you hollered out, although you didn’t let your eyes leave the surrounding areas.

“hey.” you recognized the voice as rudy’s and felt your heart flutter lightly and looked up at him. his rosy cheeks and messy blond hair almost made you melt on the spot.

“what’s up?” you asked, throwing your backpack over your shoulder and grabbing your phone. rudy took a couple of slow steps towards you and now you two were basically inches away from each other. 

“i was wondering if you were up for dinner tonight?” rudy asked, rubbing the back of his neck. he was clearly nervous, but for what?

“yeah i’m down! what do the rest of the group have in mind?” you responded, pretty obliviously. rudy let out a big breath because he thought he had gotten the hard part over with. 

“actually, i was thinking you could come around to mine and i could cook something....like y’know. just the....two of us?” rudy responded, his face slowly growing red as he avoided eye contact with you.

a huge smile grew on your face and you saw as rudy slightly relaxed himself as maybe this was a good sign. “like...a date?” you answered. you felt bad that maybe you were egging it on more and making him clearly more stressed but you needed that clarification for yourself.

“uh, that’s what i had in mind?” rudy stated, with his eyebrows raised. you lifted on your tippy toes and placed a kiss on his cheek. as you took a step back, you stared into his blue eyes and smiled.

“a date it is.” you answered. you never in your life thought that you would have the confidence to do that, so it wasn’t a surprise that your heart was racing fast and your hands felt sweaty.

you walked past him and opened the door to the trailer before turning back. “you coming or what?” you asked.

rudy did not even hesitate to follow after you.

[pwapuri]

Gintsu week day 7: meant to be

It was another dawn in Edo. The katoken program had already passed and they were showing the session of the films that nobody wants to see. Gintoki woke up in a jump dreaming again about some things from the past...When he bet with Takasugi that he could find the watermelon smelling the candy, he can still hear Zura's voice in his head saying it was a bad idea. Although younger Zura was always the most prudent and pleaded with Gintoki and Takasugi to stop getting in trouble without the sensei seeing them. That was when in the dream things got mixed up and Gintoki heard kagura taking Takasugi's place encouraging him to jump off the cliff while Shinpachi cut the watermelon and said the joke was over and the years had passed. An old man with responsibilities shouldn't do these things. It was true.

Upon seeing the friends of past and present, with the ghost of time on top of everyone gintoki woke up with kagura mumbling sleep and Shinpachi without the cover that fell off the sofa. The three had fallen asleep while the katoken program.

-Hey. Go to bed ... Do you all want to get a cold or...

He looked at the two young lying on the couch without concern. How long had it been like this?

At the age that Kagura now had, gintoki had lost Shouyo to the tendoushuu and at the age of Shinpachi he had already killed so many amantos and government officials that he had stopped worrying.

That was all he had now. It was more than he could ever imagine to have. When Otose found him and took him home, Gintoki went through the front door of what is now Yorozuya and thought that how big the space was, even that the space was just three times bigger than the prison cell. There was nothing, no furniture or equipment. He thought about how he would do business being who he was, without a title or master. But as soon as began to know the neighborhood and become friends with people and so they started to trust in his services, It wasn't long before he found these two idiots who started to follow him. That  room now looked tiny. Even though Shinpachi sometimes looked at him with contempt and even though he never managed to pay the month, making them be shamed. When they looked at him with admiration, when they asked for help or advice, everything was worth it. He never thought of it as a family because it is dangerous ... as companions it might be cowardly because he knew it was more. But he liked to think that this was another one of those feelings to which no name is given.

And out of all the people he met, almost all had the same title for him ... maybe not as strong as those two little pests who lived with him and whom he paid full attention to ...

All the idiots who gathered around him made him feel that way, indescribable.

As the day came he was thinking about his own life. Those kids weren't going to stay there forever ... nothing is eternal. But where the hell had space for a normal life? Staying here and there with a woman under his arm like the gorilla couple he knew? Or Zura and ikumatsu? No ... none of that seemed natural. Just imagining it made him shiver. The only situation in which he thought to walk around having a normal life was with Ketsuno Ana because he was going to show her off to the world ... after all, it was Ketsuno Ana. But of course it wouldn't be so good in reality after all, He didn't want to burn his wings getting too close to the sun ...and speaking of sun, what time was that?

Looking at the clock, he saw that there were six. He remembered tsukuyo's schedule by chance ... always by chance.

'Believe me, this is the time when I come home.'

After asking what time the hell she stopped working, that's what she answered. He marked her words because it was hard to believe that there were people who enjoyed working so much

He started thinking about things three years ago ... about the woman who had a destiny similar to him. She killed the master herself to protect someone else. What irritated him was perhaps because she was so different from him ... working and working instead of enjoying the life that the master gave her. After thinking so much he understands, her life and his are the same. The difference is that to forget, or rather, to remember that she is alive, she works.

The two were so similar and yet so different. Damn thought that bothered him. Why did it have to be this way? Why couldn't she make herself more of an idiot? Why it had to be so independent and beautiful? Beautiful ... a soul so pure and clean. Ah, that was a perfect attribute to keep him interested. But in the end it was impossible to keep something with that woman using just that ... he didn't worth it for her. He was weak and coward, afraid to lose those two lying on the couch, afraid of losing the friendship of others and was afraid of losing the life he won after losing everything two times. Starting over was tiring, new house, new goals, all of this is scary. It was already difficult to keep the feelings in place with those people around him. Imagine new sensations and the worst, new obligations.

But among those moments of fear, he wanted to throw everything up when he remembered that she liked him. She liked it enough to understand that he wasn't hers, who the hell gives up what loves to make someone else happy? What was her problem? Cowardice or courage? But after all, he didn't have the right to speak ...was he's fault to make that so clear , oh look! He thought, we are the same after all.

-maybe today she changes her mind and decides to say she loves me?

It would never happen. Otae and kyuubei were the first to say what he already knew. He was the one who must say he loved her or not. But he couldn't. First because he wasn't going to destroy her heart saying he didn't love her and secondly because he didn't like lying. It was not easy as with Sachan, that is a good woman (in many ways) but dosent work with him. Worse, she knew it and continued to insist.

Tsukuyo no, it was her and that damned hope... so he had to scream that she shouldn't have hope for a no future like him, but scream what she already knew?

Call to tell that you love her and can't live without the smell of lavender and cigarettes. That she's perfect for you in every detail. That she completes you.

Damn ... she knows. And yet she continues to look with those eyes. Eyes full of love and concern, even with a hard mouth to give cruel answers. Maybe he should call and say it. Call now!

Call and tell her to forget you, not to show up! That you can't love her and she needs to move on

What a mess...

What kind of feeling is that? As he thought again, it had no name, no shape. Where does he get these thoughts from?

Finally he picked up the phone and dialed. he thought of the bullshit he was doing on the first touch. Twisting the telephone cord sitting on the chair in the office, he began to murmur: 'Kestuno Ana I'm not cheating on you', 'believe me she's just a friend', 'this thing in my chest isn't what you thinking', 'I haven't seen her for months, I haven't spoken to her ... I'm the crooked savior of her home, I need to see how things are going', 'it doesn't mean betrayal, right?'

Four rings and no one answered. 'ah I knew ... she must have slept it, in fact it was what I should do too'

-Hello?

Everything went white. For a moment he forgot how to answer a phone. he heard the serious voice of the guardian of yoshiwara

-ham ... it's me. Is everything okay out there?

-gintoki is that you?

-Of course, did you think it was the joestar jotaro or something?

-Is this time to call? Have you looked at your watch? When was the last time you woke up so early in life?

What a regret.

-I thought something had happened, you ungrateful bitch

-What the hell would have happened that I couldn't have called the next day ?! You goddamned hollow head!

-My phone rang and I'm just checking, your stupid! -Said gintoki

All lies, the most poorly told. And she knew, again, she knew. She couldn't even hide the excitement of hearing after a night of patrol the voice of the man she loved most in the world.

-Well, it wasn't me... but I thank you for your concern. But there's nothing here that I can't handle. Unless a new yato king appears I don't need your services

-you are really stupid and boring! You will die unmarried! Damn time I called

-grumpy! Damn time I answered!

After a few seconds of silence gintoki was preparing to hang up when tsukuyo interrupted:

-but is everything really okay? Kagura and Shinpachi, are you all okay?

That was what destroyed him. She was like that, tough and sweet ... not much different from the others but something in her gentle way to say those things, how does she do that?

-yea. All right

-How about you? Is everything really okay?

Tsukuyo was never able to disguise it, she wanted to receive that call so much that it seemed like a dream. She was so happy to see that Gintoki remembered the time when she came home ... even though were it by chance. She thanked the universe and begged the man to continue the conversation

-Well, I had a weird dream ...

From that point on, the conversation lasted until the sun started to heat everything up again, until just before Shinpachi opened his eyes and saw the phone off the hook while gintoki slept on the desk. The desperation for the high bill made him yell at Gintoki and force him showering and getting ready, it was too late and they had promised to fix a roof at 11. Gintoki complained but was completely happy to have talked to tsukuyo. The two fell asleep hanging from the phone and it made them feel young again, as if for a moment everything was possible.

After all, that's what they were. The relationship between Gintoki and Tsukuyo might never leave the paper, there would never be room for a normal life ... but what was normal for them anyway? So it was enough. This enormous feeling of joy filled  and satisfied him. They never meant to be something because they were already everything for each other.

....

-Tsukuyo, Thank you for love me

-Thank you for letting me love you

__________

This was the most difficult prompt for me, I don't know why...I've tryed everything...edits, fanarts, comic. None of this managed to transmit my feels abou it. I'll make some fanart for the long prompt but, thats it!

[ask-hunterxhunter]

Headcanons for Hisoka, Illumi, and Chrollo losing their female s/o to childbirth? Like the moment labor starts their s/o is in unbearable pain and she bleeds too much and passes away. How would they cope with losing one of the few people they actually love & having to be responsible for a baby on their own now? Thank u so much :3

Hisoka

This is one of the few occasions when Hisoka is lost for a while. Even as he holds your hand and feels life leaving your body, he just doesn’t react immediately. It’s not he never considered you dying before, it’s just that it doesn’t feel real when it happens. You can’t be gone. You just can’t… It’s like this event has no place in reality. It’s also one of the few occasions when Hisoka becomes a little more… Sentimental. Oh, not while the doctors are in the room (in fact, his lack of bigger reaction will either be considered shock or him being a cold bastard in their eyes), but once they leave him alone with your body… Hisoka doesn’t cry, he doesn’t scream, but he brushes your face gently as he says goodbye…

 All in all, he seems to be taking it rather well, right?

 Wrong. Dear Lord, wrong.

 When he arrives home, Hisoka just sits for a moment… And screams. He isn’t someone who takes refuge in denial, he doesn’t go on how this isn’t happening… But it doesn’t make acceptance easier. As used to death as Hisoka is, he has always been a lone wolf who never cared for anyone else but you. Accepting the death of a loved one is never easy for anyone, but we can’t say Hisoka is exactly well-prepared or adjusted for such things.

 His initial reaction is downright scary. He screams, his bloodlust overflows (it’s the only way he knows how to deal with things), but there isn’t anyone to blame, anyone to go after (it’s sad, but those things do happen), just this awful pain. The façade he keeps just drops and everything just overflows and fills the room. It’s suffocating and terrifying.

 What stops him? The baby crying. Hisoka is not exactly an emotional guy, he isn’t used to dealing with those deeper emotions, but remember that he wouldn’t enter a real relationship (let alone have a child with you) if his feelings weren’t this serious. So, yes, it might be strange to imagine Hisoka caring for a baby, but this is his child. Yours and his. As soon as he hears the cries, he stops and remembers he is a father now. And yes, he does love the baby.

 He isn’t feeling any better, but he holds the baby and tries to calm down.

 Hisoka won’t admit it to anyone ever, however, he is almost scared now. He had admitted to you he had no idea of how to be a father (and was pretty sure he wasn’t the best material for the role), and now he has to be a single father. Does that seem like a good idea? He already admitted to Illumi he has issues. Just because he’s happy with his lifestyle and doesn’t give a crap and has no intention to change, doesn’t mean he is so much of a bastard that he doesn’t care about his own child!

 Simply put, he has no idea what to do.

 Wherever your soul is, you can at least rest knowing Hisoka will do his best. Will he change his lifestyle? No more than he absolutely has to (so, very little). Will he mess up? Yes. Like everyone does. Will he love this child and do the best he can? Yes. Will he care for them? Yes. He might not be the best father ever, but he won’t be an awful one, either.

 Yet, Hisoka will never recover from losing you.

 And just because he calms down after your death because he scared his child, it doesn’t mean he will remain calm. In fact, he may (try to) deal with it the only way he knows how: By turning to violence. He’ll be staying at Heaven’s Arena for a while and people will at once fear that they’ll have to fight him because Hisoka won’t just “not attend” the match. It’s doesn’t matter who it is or how strong they are: Hisoka will be there. And this won’t be even a fight as much as murder: He will be going after blood.

 It won’t help as much as he hopes. By the end of the day, even if he uses fighting as an escape valve for what happened, he is still hurting and you’re still dead.

 Illumi

To put it in one word? Badly.

 Being pregnant with Illumi’s child (well, anyone from the Zoldyck, really) means you’ll have the best care money can afford (and God knows this means top care), but the fact remains that those things still can happen. Not that this means much for Illumi. Remember he doesn’t care for anyone beyond his family, so the fact that he wanted to start a family of his own with you already speaks volumes for how much he valued you. At first, he is in shock. You can’t have just left you, it’s impossible, you’re his wife, you weren’t supposed to die, this was to be the happiest day of both of your lives… But he won’t be able to refuse the fact that you died for more than a couple of seconds.

 If he even suspects there was a mistake, that the doctors weren’t careful enough, anything, he’ll take it out on them (if by a lawsuit or by taking matters in his own hands, it depends), because people often want someone to blame, somewhere to focus their pain on and Illumi is one of them. Once the initial shock of the loss pass, he will want to know exactly what happened and why you died.

 Not that this will bring any comfort. Even if a doctor can be blamed for what happened and Illumi deals with them, this won’t bring you back. There’s no satisfaction. There’s nothing.

 As unemotional as Illumi can be, this is one of those rare cases when it looks like all the emotions he keeps away (or doesn’t seem to have at all) just explode. Think about when he felt Alluka’s power… That is tame compared to how it will be then. The only change is the nature of this explosion. I repeat: The loss of someone you love, no matter how it happens, is always painful and can always be traumatic. It doesn’t help that Illumi is, well, how he is. This event won’t help Illumi’s mental state and it might, in fact, push him further into his darkness (after all, it isn’t as if he sees anything wrong with himself to make him want to change for starters).

 It's hard to tell how Illumi will deal with the loss. We know it won’t be in a normal way, let alone one we could consider healthy, but there is the presence of his family to be taken into account as they will offer support and help as much as they can which might help to reign him back a little. While he might seem to be okay with being killed by someone he “cares about” such as Killua in order to “be kept in their hearts” or controlling them with needles “for their own safety”, but losing them to death? Something that can’t ever be fixed? Not the same.

 As much as his family might try to help (despite being how they are, they are still somewhat more balanced than he is), there is a limit to how much they will be able to do so. Illumi may dedicate himself to the job more than never, go after Killua (in an “I already lost my wife, I won’t lose my brother” frame of mind), or anything else that may give him the sensation of recovering control in his life and that demands attention. Again, hard to predict exactly how he will deal with it, but it won’t be by keeping good memories, remembering he will see her again in heaven or anything remotely healthy.

 Regarding the baby, he won’t abandon them (as if!) and will dedicate himself to raise them well, but the problem is that without you around to “balance” his behaviour and beliefs, his methods might be worse than what his parents did to him. Illumi won’t remember your words or will just “twist” them to fit his views. Not out of disrespect for your memory, but because he truly believes in his family’s methods. Yes, he will love the baby, very much so, but again… This is Illumi we’re talking about.

 On a note, about Alluka, despite his desire to do something about your death, he won’t be dumb/desperate enough to consider using Nanika’s power to bring you back, at least until he is 100% sure this won’t backfire on him (and chances are, it will anyway. I mean, when did this sort of thing ever work for anyone who tried? Read “Pet Sematary”, “Monkey’s Paw” and whatever else deals with the subject. He is twisted, not stupid).

 Chrollo

Surprisingly, despite being a criminal, Chrollo can make sure you are well-cared for during pregnancy and when the time comes to give birth, you’ll have great doctors. Sadly, again, this doesn’t mean death by childbirth cannot happen (it depends on several things, even if you have top healthcare).

 As someone who lives so close to death and who has little to no care for human life, Chrollo doesn’t have a moment of denial. Being in the room while you give birth, he feels life leaving you and a part of him seems to go with you… He tells the doctors to do something, to help you, but it’s too late. And he knows it. He has killed enough people to know when they are gone with no chance of getting back. He stays with you for a while, not talking, not crying, just holding your hand as if you were asleep.

 Because the Spider has so many enemies, he will make sure it was indeed an accident and not someone trying to take revenge by killing you or anything of the sort (and if it turns out this is what happened, well, everyone involved is as good as dead). And also because of his lifestyle, you might think he will be somewhat better prepared for this event and know how to deal with it…

 Well… No, not really. Losing you is worse than losing another member of the Spider, as it is more personal. Chrollo doesn’t make a show of how much this hurts him while there are others around (in fact, even with the Spiders he might keep his emotions under control), but when he is alone, he doesn’t care to keep a façade of calmness. Differently from Hisoka or Illumi, this won’t be an explosion of rage or a long scream, but it won’t be less of a huge blow: Chrollo feels lost and for a moment, he can’t even focus on the Troupe or what to do. He just feels your absence and a future he can no longer have while he holds the baby close.

 Although he is used to “carry on�� when a member of the Spider dies (and searching for whoever killed them to get revenge), this is different: Not only because he has no one to blame for, but again, it’s far more personal. You were his partner, the person he wanted to start a family with… He never allowed anyone to get this close, keeping his focus on the Troupe and its objectives and now he has to deal with losing you forever. He knows he needs to carry on. He knows there is nothing he can do now except caring for the baby and continuing with his plans. In a sense, his rational side continues to work because Chrollo basically programmed himself to be like this with the years of being who he is.

 Only that this doesn’t help when emotions, that are far harder to be controlled, get involved. There is no other way of putting this: Your death leaves Chrollo devasted. And this depression may last a long time. He may get to the point of continuing his plans, keeping the Troupe’s goals and all, but underneath it all, there will be this hollowness that just won’t go away. If Senritsu was to hear his heartbeat, she would point out how worse it became.

 The members of the Troupe that are closest to him, such as Machi, will know that Chrollo needs help in this moment, not as a villain or as their boss, but as a human being who lost a loved one (considering how many people they took away from their loved ones without a care, you’re free to call them hypocrites). It must be said that this help will be balanced: Enough to remind Chrollo he is not as alone as he behaves and not pushing to the point of being suffocating.

 Because of that and also due to Chrollo’s ability to not lose focus despite emotional turmoil, as depressed as he gets, he won’t forget that he has a child to think about now: The uncertainty that one feels when having to be a single father is present, he isn’t sure of how he’ll balance being the Troupe’s leader with protecting and raising a child. He isn’t just going to forsake the Spiders, but he won’t just drop the kid in an orphanage and take off (unless there is so much danger closing on him that he literally has no choice, but the chances are preeetty slim). Some members of the Troupe may help Chrollo in this department (such as Machi or Pakunoda, if she is still alive when this happens) as he finds ways to reach this balance between his goals and his personal life.

[nat-20s]

this is a Wild™ prompt so no pressure to actually do it, but i’ve had the scenario of “somehow s5 martin ends up in s1-s2, has to figure out how to deal with that” and if u want a narrower thing, maybe how he reacts to seeing someone again/for the first time? (Sasha, Juergen Leitner, Prentiss, etc)

Please have fun with Whatever this is:

“Don’t go wandering off in the middle of the apocalypse” seems like a pretty simple rule to follow. “Especially don’t go through any weird doors, Christ, Martin, how can that possibly be a good idea on any level, do you remember nothing from the last five years of your existence?” also seems like a generally easy thing to keep in mind. And yet, Martin is guilty of the same sin that appears to be intrinsic of all of those who find themselves under the influence of the eye, his need to know something overriding his common sense. In his defense, the door was only like 2 meters away and he wasn’t planning on going through it or even touching it at all. He just wanted to look, because it appeared to be made of a liquid version of frosted glass, and it was translucent enough that he could sort of make out the other side of it. As he got closer, he confirmed that the other side of the door a: definitely didn’t match the rest of their own little hell-scape, and b: seemed familiar in a way he couldn’t quite make sense of.  

Of course, in the dream logic of their reality, you don’t have to place your hand on the door knob in order for you to enter some place new. All it takes is getting within a foot of the door, squinting to futilely try and bring the scene across from him into better focus, and a blink and suddenly he is not where he’s supposed to be. Instead, he is staring down the hallway of his former apartment complex, watching as a familiar woman attired in a red dress and countless words is steadily knocking at his door. There’s a weight in his hands that wasn’t there before, and he looks down to find a fire extinguisher in prime position to be fired. Huh. How serendipitous.

Martin’s surprised to find that he doesn’t feel afraid, not in this moment. It appears that for all the two weeks spent hiding from her still frequent more often than not in his nightmares, for all that the sight of canned peaches still makes him nauseous, in his (probably) waking hours, she is far less intimidating than the myriad of horrors he has faced since. Or, perhaps, it’s simply that he is actually equipped to face her, and that takes away some of the teeth of his fear. Any semblance of preparation, of a plan, has given him comfort when he had little else, and that continues on now. Admittedly, though, while he does have preparation for this encounter, his plan is little more than “get Prentiss off of my fucking lawn and then see where we go from there” before he’s striding towards her.

He’s able to get close to her, about as close as he’s willing to get, before she takes any notice of him. Once he’s about five feet away, she turns her head, and briefly pauses that incessant, infuriating knocking. She gets as far as saying, “Oh, aren’t you inter-” before he sends a spray of foam directly to her face. It’s far from enough to kill her, but it’s enough to kill off some of the worms, so there’s no way that it doesn’t at least sting quite a bit. The CO2 makes her stutter and take several steps back, swatting at the foam at an attempt to get it off.

He considers pulling the handle once again, but he’s really more concerned with getting her to leave than hurting her further, and he doesn’t to run out of ammo this early should she recover and decide to go on the attack. However, he likes to think he’s not too much of a fool, so he keeps the nozzle trained on her as she becomes less frantic.

Finally she stills her swatting, breathing heavily and glaring at him, as much as she can make any sort of facial expression with what’s left of her face. “That was rather rude of you, little one. And we are trying to offer you an escape from being so tragically singular.”

Martin raises the nozzle slightly higher, just enough to bring focus to the motion as he replies, “Yeah, well, it was rude of you to stalk my apartment for two weeks and try to kill me and my coworkers, so forgive me if I don’t feel all that grateful for your oh so generous offer.”

“Hmm. So you are his future. That’s a shame. We are made so loneliness is impossible, it would not wrap itself so throughly into your form. Our love could still be given to you, in this time.”

“I have no interest in your hollow version of love. He has no interest in it. Now, leave.”

Prentiss give an airy wave of her hand, and the worms that had been trying to find any crack in the sealed door come crawling back to their home. “Fine, fine. This was just a bit of fun, anyway. I’ll be seeing him soon enough anyway.”

Martin makes a hum of acknowledgement, though he response makes little difference to her taking her leave. There’s a few silver-grey disgusting stragglers that be promptly and throughly kills with a combination of the fire extinguisher and some well placed stomps. It’s only after he finishes this that the hesitation hits him, the trepidation curling low in his stomach until it solidifies into something akin to fear. He’ll take a worm monster over facing himself any time of any day.

What would he even say to himself? Good luck, the next years of your life are completely fucked? Hey, congratulations, you actually made it to your 30s, so that’s a bit of surprise, but you’re almost certainly not going to get to 35? Don’t talk to a man named Peter Lukas, or maybe just avoid any Lukases in general? Maybe he should lie, tell him things are going to turn out okay when they’re definitely not?

Wait, okay, maybe he has something with the Peter tip. If there’s an opportunity to give this version of him some advice that could prevent future grief, he might as well go for it. It’s like, how badly could he actually mess up the time line with his interference? The world could end again? Been there, done that, got the t-shirt. Upon the realization that basically no matter what he does right now there’s basically no where to go up but up, he makes an executive decision to go in there and confront himself head on. Hell, maybe that’s the Thing that’s needed to get him back to Jon.

As he goes to turn the door handle he also, briefly, thinks that he should bring up that he’s madly in love with someone who feels the same. It’s not immediately relevant for trying to prevent some of the mistakes he’s made, but Martin remembers being 28, utterly convinced both that love was real and something that was completely unattainable for something like him. Being wrong on the second part of that conviction is one of the few true comforting things he can provide.

The door is, of course, locked, so he goes with plan B. Turns out fire extinguishers are rather handy for smashing things, and he brings it down several times in rapid succession until the knob breaks. There’s one step down, but he had forgotten about the furniture barricade that had been put in place. He can get the door open about 7 centimeters before it refuses to budge, and he begins to wonder if all of this is an exercise in futility. At least his voice won’t be muffled when he calls out, “Martin? You in there?”

There’s nothing but silence, and he sighs and leans his head against the apartment door. “Seriously, Martin, could you respond? And maybe move some of this furniture? If you’re dead that means things are way more messed up than I expected.”

After a beat, a strained voice calls out, “Oh, so a bad impersonation of me is part of your dumb monster powers now? Piss off!”

After a groan and an eyeroll, Martin calls back “I’m not-!” before cutting himself off. He meant to say “I’m not a monster, I’m you” but both of those things are only about 60-70% true. Instead he goes with, “I’m not an impersonation. If I was something pretending to be someone else to get inside, wouldn’t I pick one of your coworkers coming to get you? Like Tim or Jon or Sa- you know, um, one of them?”

Silence.

“You have a peephole, right? You could look through it, confirm that I’m not worm-infested?”

He doesn’t hear a response with words, but he does hear the sounds of motion coming from inside. After a few minutes, the furniture is pushed aside, and the door is opened for him. Jesus, the guy on the other side of the door looks like shit. He probably doesn’t look much better, apocalypse grime covering every inch of him, but still. The man in front of him has deep bags under his eyes and a gauntness to his face that will take a while to ease. Worst of all, he looks painfully young and painfully afraid, and while Martin can recognize himself on a logical level, there’s a forced disconnect that makes him feel like he’s looking at a stranger. The knife that’s being held between them probably doesn’t help matters.

His former self’s voice shakes with a mix of adrenaline and exhaustion. “You got the hair color wrong. And the age.”

“That’s because I’m 32. Also, still not an impersonation.”

“My hair goes white in 5 years?”

“Not in the natural way. You know those hokey stories where people are so scared their hair turns white? That’s...sort of what happened. And it’s not going to happen to you, if I can help it.”

That’s the wrong thing to say, apparently, as the younger Martin’s face twists up. It’s a lot, Martin thinks it’s a lot and he’s far more experienced in the reality of the esoteric, but sometimes things being a lot is unavoidable, and he’s pretty sure time travel is one of those cases. He shrugs in response to the younger’s confusion, and says, “Can I come in? I think I’m here to dole out some advice, and I’d honestly prefer to do while not standing in worm corpses.”

He’s studied for a few brief moments, before he’s told, “You broke my doorknob.”

“You’re never gonna live here again, and it’s not like you were getting the security deposit back anyway. Does it matter?”

The younger one’s face collapses, despondent when he replies, “But. I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

Martin’s been experiencing a nauseating mixture of anger, pity, and compassion while seeing his past self, but that’s enough to kick in his care-taking instincts, and he really just wants to wrap the guy in a blanket. That’s not going to help either of them, but what he says next might. With a frankly ridiculous wave of fondness for that uncomfortable cot (or, more accurately, for the memory of a certain someone offering said cot), “You will. After you go back to the institute, you, um, you won’t have to stay here again.”

Martin, junior edition, only looks more lost, but he does step aside to let Martin inside the apartment even if he doesn’t lose his death grip on the knife. Martin pulls the door behind him, and as he does so, it transforms into the door that got him in this mess, so looks like he made the right choice. It doesn’t immediately take him (hopefully) back to his own time, but Martin’s gut is telling him that he won’t be spending much longer here. “Okay, so, you have a notebook around here, right? Because I’m about to dump quite a bit of information on you all at once, and I happen to know that our memory for things of this sort is not fantastic.”

The younger one glances over to the table where a notebook and pen are laying and while he moves towards it, he’s clearly hesitant to occupy both his hands with writing. The precaution makes sense, but Martin’s getting tired of it nonetheless due to a combination of running out of time and generally being tired of people seeing him as a threat. With a sigh, he tries his best to evenly say, “The next few years are going to be, um, messed up, to say the least, but hopefully if you have more information than I did, they’ll be less messed up.”

Younger Martin finally concedes, putting the knife down to pick up the pen, and flips the notebook open. Primed to start writing, he gives slight nod of his head to tell Martin to keep talking. Martin takes a breath, lets it out, and spills everything he can think of. “Okay, most immediately, CO2 kills Prentiss’s worms, and enough of it will kill her. A fire suppressant system will do the trick, but make sure there’s a way to actually trigger it inside of the archives. Makes sure the weird spooky table doesn’t get destroyed, it seems like it should be destroyed, this instinct is wrong. Generally speaking, you should get a buddy system set up, as it’s usually when people go off on their own that particularly bad things start to happen, whether it’s on an investigation or going to America. Speaking of, don’t let Jon go to America. Don’t let Tim go to stop the Unknowing. The Unknowing won’t work anyway, but you’ll probably still want to have the circus blown up, just make sure everyone is doing it from a distance. Don’t let yourself work for Peter Lukas, actually don’t interact with Peter Lukas, except maybe to, I don’t know, hit him with a shovel. And most importantly, kill Elias Bouchard as soon as possible-”

“-What?!-”

“-and in particular make sure you destroy the eyes, that’s vital to this whole thing. Turns out he’s actually a 200 year old scumbag named Jonah Magnus, you know, the founder of the institute, and by getting rid of him, you’ll save yourself a quite literal world of pain.”

“I don’t, what, I don’t think I could kill somebody-”

Martin felt a sharp tug towards the door, and he knew his time here was up. “Oh, wow, I really have changed, huh. Anyway, uh, final notes: you’re not going to end up alone and unloved and forgotten before you’re even fully gone, so feel free to lay that fear that occupies a disconcertingly large amount of your mental space to rest. Good luck, and try not to die!”

Before he can hear his other self’s response, he’s back in the wastelands he currently calls a twisted version of home, and Jon’s arms are wrapped around his neck in a fierce hug. As far as he can tell, nothing’s changed from his little literal trip down memory lane. There’s a few explanations for it, but since Martin’s not going to go out of his way trying to prove any of them, he choses to believe in the one that’s the most hopeful; that somewhere, out there, with some well timed words, there’s a universe that has turned out kinder than their own.

[franklyshipping]

Defining Androids (Sequel to “The Self-Proclaimed Unflusterables (Part 4) - Defining Humanity”) ~ A Markiplier Ego Fanfic

WOOOOOO IT’S SEQUEL TIME BABYYYY FROM A WONDERFUL ANON WHO HAS PROMPTED IT, LETS GET SOME ROMANCE ON WOOOOHOOOO LET’S DO IT!

TAGGING: @goog-ler-iplier @bingylee and @bingy-switch

Google Blue huffed. He enjoyed working with technology, for there was always more to learn and adapt to and develop and create, but sometimes it could also be so mundane and tedious. Like the security cameras inside the Ego Manor for instance. No matter how many upgrades Blue would make to them, they would still always be in the habit of breaking down, and on this occasion the fix was requiring so much more effort. Blue was having to go into the wire-strewn mainframe that controlled everything in the manor so that he could isolate the specific electrical fault and fix it, meaning he was lying on his back, on the floor under a desk, arms and head deep in wiring as he tried to find the cause of the irritating issue. Such a task is made even more irritating when you have someone hovering near you being an annoyance rather than helpful.

‘Have you found the fault yet?’

‘No. Just like when I answered you 72 seconds ago Bing.’

Blue replied curtly, gritting his teeth as he tried to refocus on the nest of wires he was investigating….of course though, Bing was still incredibly interested in what Blue was doing. He was sat beside Blue’s legs and was trying to peer in, his burnt orange eyes looking curiously as he spoke again.

‘D’ya reckon it’s just one wire that’s gone funky?’

Blue sighed. A long, long sigh.

‘I don’t know. I don’t know what the problem is yet, because I have not found it. Once I find it, I assure you that you will be the first person to know.’

For the next twenty minutes or so, Blue kept on searching for the problem at hand. And despite all of Bing’s constant questions and aimless distracting conversation, eventually Blue managed to find it. It was annoyingly simple too, just a wire that had somehow unplugged itself. It took Blue a second to plug it in before running some remote diagnostics to see that all was well, and he sighed gratefully when he saw that the problem was fixed. He cleared his throat and called out.

‘Bing please make sure you are a little way away so that I can get myself out.’

‘No probs dude, you got plenty room!’

Bing replied as he shuffled back on his butt, and Blue grunted as he started to wriggle out, and soon his torso was completely out from under the desk….but then….Blue was forced to stop. Bing furrowed his eyes brows as he heard Google curse and mutter under his breath.

‘Uh, you good man?’

Blue had his teeth gritted in annoyance, because good is not how he would describe his current situation. His forearms and biceps were stuck above his head, entangled in thick wiring that was keeping the android trapped under the desk as a result. His arms and head were still beneath the desk, and Blue huffed as he replied.

‘I’m perfectly fine, just a bit tangled, I’ll be just fine.’

He tried wiggling and carefully bending his elbows, but as minute after minute passed the tangled wiring just did not want to co-operate and untangle itself! Meanwhile Bing was lying on his stomach and trying to look under the desk, cocking his head as he asked.

‘Dude you’re lookin’ real stuck under there-oh!’

Bing jumped to his feet suddenly, smiling and exclaiming with what was a completely spontaneous idea.

‘I’ll get Wilford to help! Remember that time when he just magicked himself outta ropes with the detective? He’ll know how to get ya out!’

‘Wait-Bing no wait!’

‘I’ll be back as soon as I can!’

‘BING!’

Blue called out, but he heard Bing’s footsteps hurry from the room, and immediately Blue felt embarrassed warmth coming to his face. Of all people. Of ALL people why did Bing have to go with Wilford?! Why not the Host with his reality bending narrations, that would have been far more logical! Blue knew Wilford was good at escapism….but the thought of Wilford seeing him trapped and vulnerable was so embarrassing, particularly given how Blue felt about Wilford. Okay….now Blue was actually glad that his face was hidden right now, especially when he then heard two sets of footsteps enter the room.

‘My, my, what do were have here?’

Blue felt himself smile unwittingly at the sound of Wilford’s warbling voice, and the android cleared his throat as he replied.

‘Good afternoon Wilford, I assume Bing has ah….briefed you on the situation?’

Wilford softly chuckled. The moustached man paced over, his eyes flicking over the armless, headless body laid out on the floor. Wilford nibbled his lip lightly, since he thought Blue looked rather adorable all trapped like this.

‘He has indeedy, but fear not! I’m not going to let my favourite android stay stuck, no offense Bingy.’

Wilford added, which made Bing snort and reply with a grin.

‘Noho probs man, Bluey really likes your company too.’

Blue’s eyes widened. As soon as he was out of here, he was definitely going to kill Bing. Wilford gasped brightly at Bing’s words, and put his hand to his chest as he exclaimed.

‘Oh really? Oh Blue you’re too sweet!’

Blue felt more warmth come to his cheeks, and he cleared his throat embarrassedly.

‘Yes, well, ahem…..if you wouldn’t mind Wilford, I don’t quite enjoy being stuck like this-‘

‘Oh! Yes of course, my apologies, I’ll sort ya out!’

Wilford exclaimed, clapping his hands together as he got on the floor next to Blue’s body. Bing smiled at the scene. Seeing Wilford smiling and looking at Blue so affectionately, and so Bing decided now was the time to leave the pair of them to themselves.

‘Right ah, I’ll go make some double checks on all the cameras, see you guys later.’

With that, Bing left, and Blue was left tense. Especially when he felt Wilford softly pat his stomach, which he was unable to even see a sliver of.

‘So uh, have ya wiggled as much as ya can wiggle under there?’

Blue flinched and cleared his throat, shivering at the feeling of Wilford touching him. Not just because it was Wilford, but also because….well….he was a particularly sensitive android.

‘A-Aha….yes I d-do think so….’

Wilford furrowed his brows at the sound of Blue’s stammers, flicking his eyes down to where he had his hand resting on Blue’s torso. Blue’s vulnerable, and rather…..attractively enticing torso. Wilford’s lips spread into a smile, and his trailed his fingertips over Blue’s stomach as he teased playfully.

‘Oh well now…..I think you might be able to wriggle just a little bit more….’

Blue’s eyes widened, and he started squirming and spluttering as he realised what Wilford was going to do. His face was the brightest turquoise imaginable.

‘N-Now Wilford th-thihis is completely u-uhunecessary! J-Just h-help mehe!’

‘But I am helping you! Nothing like a good tickle to help loosen everything up!’

Blue was squirming and giggling breathily, and then ended up gulping as he felt Wilford’s fingertips absently trail down to his hips. The threat near one of his tickle spots made him jolt and exclaim out of instinct.

‘W-Wihilford plehease!’

Wilford was grinning, he just found Blue so damn endearing and adorable right now, and at seeing Blue’s jolt, he decided he’d built the anticipation enough.

‘Please what? Please hurry and get me un-stuck? But of course!’

Blue then let out a rather un-Blue squeal as Wilford started scratching at both his hips, making him descend into giggles and buck haphazardly as he replied frantically.

‘N-Nohohoho W-Wihihilfohord Wihihilford nohohot thihihis!’

‘Trust me, this is tried and tested methodology! You’ll get free….eventually.’

Wilford chortled as he pinched Blue’s hips, making the android squeeze his eyes shut with embarrassment. His sensors were frantic. His programmed defensive instincts were just yelling at him to yank his arms free, and yet the rest of him was going wild with joy at the fact that he was being tickled and teased by the man he had romantic feelings for! That part of his system was having too much fun to fight back, meaning Blue was going absolutely haywire with….well, everything.

‘Thihihihis ihihis cruhuhuel!’

Wilford chuckled, still pinching the android’s hipbones as he replied.

‘Jeheez Bluey, and people say I’m dramatic!’

Blue snorted through his giggles, and ended up retorting with an attitude that he was perhaps going to regret. You couldn’t blame him though, the poor guy couldn’t form a coherent thought right now.

‘Ahahahall yohou knohow ihihis drahamatism!’

Though it was a retort, in Blue’s view this was a secret compliment. One of the things he loved about Wilford was how intensely his felt and expressed things. Wilford was the most emotional human that Blue had ever known, and he loved it. Of course, Wilford felt it was a compliment too, since he always loved being the most dramatic and open person he could possibly be. However, he was also looking for any excuse to tickle his-….ahem, the sensitive android beneath him even more….and this was the perfect excuse.

‘Now that isn’t a very nice thing to say to someone giving ya a helping hand! Two in fact!’

Wilford exclaimed in mock offense, before suddenly starting to squeeze Blue’s fleshy sides. The android squawked and jerked about as he burst into deep, rumbly laughter. And since he couldn’t bring himself to actually fight Wilford off, all he could do was retort as best he could.

‘AHAHA Y-YOHOHOUR HAHANDS AHARE H-H-HIHINDRANCES!’

Wilford raised an eyebrow as he replied with a grin.

‘Hindrances huh? And to think I thought you’d appreciate my help!’

Wilford continued squeezing Blue’s sides, keeping him encased in laughter as his arms weakly twisted this way and that. His love of the tickling made his struggles weak, but also Blue had the background thought of not wanting to accidentally cause a manor-wide power-cut by yanking out a million wires.

‘TIHIHICKLIHING IHISNT HEHEHELPIHING!’

Blue exclaimed, still determined to maintain the façade of his displeasure at the situation. However, people should really give more credit to Wilford….because he could be incredibly observant. Wilford hummed in thought, before he started to smile. He’d always wanted to tease Blue. He was so intrigued by the android, and in fact….Wilford had to admit that he was rather attracted to him, so to be this close and playful with him was something Wilford absolutely adored. And even better…not only did Wilford intend to tease him….but he intended to tease him with the adorable truth that he had just now realised.

‘Hmm, maybe it’s not helping because you don’t want it to….maybe you like being trapped like this….’

Wilford relented on Blue’s sides as he trailed off, his fingertips now moving to scarcely tap at Blue’s ribs. As Wilford’s words swirled in his hard drive mind, Blue froze, and started stuttering in flustered incredulity.

‘I-I-Ihi….th-….th-thahat’s p-p-prepohosterous…..’

‘Oh is it now? See, now I think about it….you’re one of the strongest people I know, frankly I’d bet you’re the strongest. You could get outta this yourself easily. And though it’d give ya more wirin’ to fix later….if ya really wanted to get outta here, you could rip your arms free without breakin’ a sweat.’

Blue was a mess of shivers from Wilford’s truthful teasing, and the fact that Wilford had managed to deduce this all from Blue only flustered him even more. Wilford in general made Blue flustered, but his intelligence and cleverness made those feelings really peak inside the android. Blue knew he couldn’t convince Wilford otherwise, he was at a flustered, vulnerable loss. All he could do, as Wilford’s teasing fingertips curled against his ribs, was meekly fib. And it was the most endearing thing Wilford had ever heard in his life.

‘I-I d-dohon’t know whahat you’re tahalking about….’

Wilford was so ecstatic! Blue was actually enjoying this, but he was too embarrassed to admit it! Wilford chuckled, and his brown eyes gleamed with affection at Blue’s ticklish flinching as he kept curling and uncurling his fingers playfully.

‘You’re really not gonna admit it huh? Ya sure you wanna go down this road?’

Blue gulped….but ultimately, yes, he absolutely wanted to go down this road.

‘….thehere is….nothing toho admit….’

Blue gasped out, which made Wilford smirk, and purr with complete glee.

‘Oh we’ll see about that.’

Thus without any more warning than that, Wilford scratched and vibrated his fingers against Blue’s ribs, making Blue shriek and burst into howls of wide-eyed laughter.

‘AHHHHH!! NAHAHAHA WIHIHILFAHAHAHA!!’

‘Coochie coochie cooo! Who’s a cute tickle-lovin’ android? I think it’s yooou Bluey-boo!’

Blues eyes were getting watery as he trembled and thrashed, Wilford’s taunting really getting to him now. His tangled, restrained arms were twitching and shaking, his instinct to fight back getting stronger now by the second.

‘NAHAHAHAHA SHUHUHUHAHAHAAAASSHH!!’

Blue’s howls of laughter were mixed in with flustered whines, which made Wilford snicker affectionately, loving how Blue was such a mirthful mess.

‘Ya ready to come out from under there yet, or d’ya want some more?’

Blue squealed as Wilford’s fingers then drilled into his upper-most ribs, and this was what ended up breaking the android.

‘NAHAHAAAAAA!!!’

Amidst Blue’s shriek, Wilford’s eyes widened as he also heard crackling and popping sounds coming from underneath the desk….and then all of a sudden, everything just went black. Then, before Wilford could even fathom what had happened, he found himself being pinned to the ground of all things! His arms were pinned above his head, but as he looked up to see a panting Blue, whose azure eyes were now the only light source in the room, Wilford understood. The moustached man grinned playfully, purring teasingly.

‘So…..upper ribs are a good spot huh?’

‘Shuhut…up….’

Wilford giggled as Blue continued to pant, but he felt a warm jitter in his chest when he squinted and managed to see the smile on the android’s face. He raised a playful eyebrow up at him.

‘How many wires d’ya reckon ya yanked out there?’

Blue pursed his lips embarrassedly, and muttered.

‘Ihi do not know, I wasn’t paying attention.’

‘I noticed, enjoying yourself that much huh?’

Blue felt like his face was going to combust, and averted his gaze as he muttered bashfully.

‘Shush….’

Wilford grinned affectionately, before cocking his head up at the android as his curiosity reared its head now.

‘Though, what I don’t get is how ya managed to fight back those fighty instincts of yours for so long. I mean, I love being tickled as much as the next ego, but I couldn’t have lasted that long! Was it because ya didn’t wanna cause a power cut? Is it a special android thing?’

At Wilford’s questions, Blue nibbled his lip. He looked down at Wilford, seeing his interest and how much he….cared….and Blue was struck by a desire. A desire to tell the truth. So, in the softest voice imaginable….he did just that.

‘…it was you….’

Wilford froze, gazing up at Blue with wonder, and bashfulness as he started to realise things. Wilford felt his heart beating faster when Blue locked eyes with him and whispered.

‘I-….I-I only liked it that much….because it was you doing it….’

Wilford’s heart was truly pounding, and he started to smile. He couldn’t believe this was actually happening. In a whisper of his own, he replied, because he wanted to be sure.

‘Why…..Blue, tell me why….’

Blue felt like he was about to light up with sparks at how nervous and jittery he was…but he didn’t want to hide any of this anymore.

‘Because….I like you Wilford. I like you in a different way than I like other humans….people-….anyone, in fact.’

Wilford had never grinned so fast in his life.

‘Well, I like you….more than I like other humans too.’

Blue smiled bashfully at that, and then felt an instinct rise in his system, so he simply followed it. He kissed Wilford….and Wilford kissed back. Blue released Wilford’s arms as they kissed each other, and amidst it they ended up sitting up and wrapping their arms around each other. When they finally parted they were both softly panting, before Wilford cleared his throat and looked around a tad.

‘The uh….the power-‘

‘My brothers are more than capable of fixing everything.’

Wilford grinned at Blue’s oh so prompt reply, and chuckled playfully.

‘Well, in that case….’

Blue spluttered and laughed when Wilford suddenly stood up and picked him up in a bridal style hold, but instead of Blue feeling humiliated, he felt undeniable happiness. It came about in a rather unusual manner, certainly, but it came about anyway, which is the most important thing. And sometimes, all you need is a friend around who’ll act more oblivious than he actually and maybe unplug a camera wire to set a scene. Perhaps….behind every great couple, there’s a mischievous, loving friend.

WOOOO HOPE YOU GUYS LIKED THIS SEQUEL LEMME KNOW IF YA DID WOOOOO LUV YOUS XX

[heli0s-writes]

V. The damn truth

Summary:  What is the damn truth?? AKA time to get those feelings out and stop being weird y'all. Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes A/N:  So I thought this was the last chapter, but it looks like we got one more, kiddos. More Cincy adventures and another further away. And more Steve time.

Foot in Mouth Syndrome Masterpost

In the morning, you brew coffee and pour it into one mug set out next to two others. You’re surprisingly the first up, senses dulled and head lightly rickety with a loosened brain from last night’s whiskey. Venturing to the garden, you sit cross-legged on a chair and watch Buckeye roam across the grass, rubbing his back over the silky blades still damp with morning dew. 

It’s all green and lush under the summer sun as your eyes trail over to the steps leading down, disappearing into the glass sliding door of the lower living room. The tablet tucked under your arm gets propped up on the glass table and you begin to work. Even in summer, it never ends. 

I’m a way, you’re glad for it because it keeps you busy and tethered to something resembling a schedule. Would you rather lie in bed with Buckeye eating pretzels watching Netflix? Yeah. But your therapist keeps telling you its not healthy .. so… 

Your fingers are clicking away, focused on one window, typing notes into another when the rattling doorknob draws your attention to Steve exiting the house with a mug in his hand, blowing gently on the surface. 

“Hey.” He calls, looking up, then greets Buckeye with a scratch on his wet rump. 

You give him a smile because you don’t quite know what to say, choosing instead to watch your dog pad off again, as if him sniffing the same spot in the yard is more interesting. 

Steve sits down in the bench next to your chair, freshly showered in jeans and a grey t-shirt-- too small, as always. You’re fresh, too, changed into a pale blue jersey romper. “Did you sleep okay?” 

“Mhm,” You reply, but can’t help the way your eyes return to his chest where you rested your head just five hours before. 

Last night ended on a solemn note. The two of them went back to their room and you and Buckeye upstairs, all heavy-hearted and tired of reality. You remember dancing, and crying, and kissing. You remember feeling so shredded, thinking about them. You remember Steve’s warm lap and Bucky’s beard rubbing against your palm. 

 “C’mere,” Steve calls softly, reaching his hand over and tugging on the waistband of your outfit. You comply, carefully balancing the cup in your hand and sit down in his lap again. Your tummy is flipping, because Steve Rogers nuzzles his nose into the back of your neck and wraps his arm around your waist. The denim of his jeans rubs against your thighs as he shifts and sets your coffee cup down. 

Change flutters all around you now, after taking flight last night. It hovers and clings, seeping into your skin like the humidity of morning. You’re not sure where or how to begin talking about this strange relationship, because you’ve never entertained the possibility of its arrival. 

Yes, Captain America is a thicc ass bitch and you’re hot for him, but Steve Rogers is your friend and you care for him more than you want to see if he’s actually a smooth-crotched Ken Doll. You can’t even start to think about Bucky right now, or else you might cry again. 

And certainly, to probe the intricacies of their relationship in order to carve a space for yourself is something so unbearably selfish you would never dream of doing it.  

“What—um, what is—” You pause because the rest of this sentence could push your friendship in any way and you’re fearful of every way. 

“Don’t think about it too much.” Steve comments as you tense inside of his grasp, “We try not to.” Then, he laughs, “I suppose that doesn’t help you feel better, huh.” 

Your arms wrap around yourself and they come to rest on his forearms. “I like what we have. I don’t want to get between what the two of you have. It’s… a massive, wonderful thing-- deep, and—” 

Steve shushes you, “Buck and I really do like you. You’re not intruding on anything.” And then, he turns you so that he’s facing your side and not your back. One hand slides up your face and then his mouth is on yours … and is it too stupid to say that when Captain America kisses you, fireworks pop off in your brain and some patriotic tune   starts blasting itself in the background? 

He tastes like coffee and freedom. Breath warm and sweet like a breeze on the 4th of July— saltwater taffy and the outdoors. There’s an eagle screeching proudly in the distant void of your mind. 

Suddenly, Steve pulls away and you’re sure your face is stuck in some tragically half-frozen mask of sheer dumbstruck. 

“Are you humming America the Beautiful right now?” He asks, incredulous. 

“Huh.” You respond, dazed, “I thought that was just in my head.” 

He tilts back laughing and takes you along with him, your shoulder crashing into his chest and your head knocking into his as you flail, trying to catch yourself. Steve holds on tightly, fingers digging into your arm and thigh—and when the hell did he get fresh and put his hand there? Sly fuck. 

“Wanted to do this for a while now.” He grins as he pulls your face down onto his once more. It is a shock to you that Captain America, the Star-Spangled sunofabitch, can kiss like it’s his damn job. His tongue is in your mouth.  Your heart feels like a gerbil spinning wildly on a wheel and might burst out of your chest any moment until— 

The rattling of the doorknob for a second time this morning catches you off guard. You yank back, fearfully aware that Steve’s spit is glistening on your lips. And goddamn, it is hot. 

Bucky joins with a mug of coffee in hand and slides the door shut. He steps past the doormat and plops down on your old seat, crosses his left ankle on his other knee and stares off into the yard as if he’s there alone. As if you’re not pitched over and crushed against his partner’s chest while one of his hands is so high up your thigh it’s practically on your ass. 

“Morning,” he grunts, taking a sip of coffee. 

“Mornin, Buck.” Steve replies breezily, and you can feel his mouth twist into a smile against your collarbone. “How’s your coffee?” 

Bucky takes another sip impassively, “Pretty good. A little burnt. How’s your lap?” 

You shoot up and nearly knock the whole table over as you brush your clothes off with a nervous laugh, “Well! I’m going to… Jesus. Christ. Uh. Let’s uh. Meet me at the car in fifteen minutes and we can go get breakfast. Or church. Fuck me with a broom.” Your brain is a bag of ferrets thrown into a dumpster fire. 

The door slams shut as you nearly break the entire frame running inside and Steve sends Bucky a shit-eating grin before patting the thigh you were just on top of. 

“You gonna come take her place over here, or what?” 

— 

Breakfast is weird. It’s weird like The Twilight Zone is weird.  

You’ve opted to leave your hair down for today, letting as much of it cover your face as possible because if either one of them looks at you, you think you might just combust. You’re ready to go back to being a bastard at any time now, but your nerves are wringing themselves into knots. Another pancake gets cut into a triangle by your fork. 

And then Steve steals it right off your plate. 

“You candy-ass mother-!” You yelp defensively. 

“There she is!” He replies, stuffing it in his mouth and pointing at you with the prongs. Bucky only raises his eyebrow behind a glass of water. “I thought we were past this.” Steve urges. 

No, making out on the patio is not equivalent to a conversation about joining a relationship as the fucking third partner, you think. Your eyes say as much as you glare at your plate and then up to Bucky, pleading with him to help you. 

“Don’t look at me,” Bucky shrugs, “I wasn’t the one playing tongue hockey with ya.” The fork in your hand clatters as you shove your face in your palms with a groan. Absolute filthy bastard. He’s chomping on hashbrowns open-mouthed as he looks at you expressionlessly. Could anyone be more annoying? Probably not. 

“Well, she did tell you she loved you twice.”  Steve points out, “So maybe I’m not the one who should be playing tongue hockey with her.”  Never mind, apparently Steve can be more annoying. Figures. 

The neckline of your romper is now pulled completely over your face until only your hairline is visible. Inside of your albeit thin, but somewhat safe space, you groan as your entire body rises to sweltering degrees.  

“You guys are bullies.” You complain. 

“What’s that, hon?” Steve asks— and you can just hear him smiling. “Didja say somethin’?” 

“I think she called us bullies, Stevie.” 

“Bullies?! Sweetheart, you made us listen to Sad n Sexy Santa for two hours on the drive here and would not stop screaming until we let you sing along.” 

You’d never imagine Steve Rogers as someone who would so easily distribute pet names like this, but apparently once you cross the bridge of sucking on each other’s face, they don’t stop coming.  

Your stomach is fluttering unbearably, but you snark back anyway, “Sad n Sexy Santa  is a true effort of musical talent,” you proclaim, still glaring at the darkness under your romper. “Christmas songs sung in a minor key changes both the tune and the connotation of their lyrical content. Have you ever thought that “All I Want For Christmas Is You” could be so unsettling? Didn’t think so!” 

A sharp tug is all it takes for your head to return to the world and Bucky’s arm fixes the wide collar so that your bralette isn’t exposed for the entire café to see. “Stop being a baby.” He scolds. 

“You !! Baby !” Nice. 

They both sit back against the opposite booth, arms crossed, smirking, as you pretend to enjoy your meal under their scrutiny. Oh, how the tables have turned, you lament. This is just divine punishment, after two months of being the most infuriating person to them, now they’re giving you a double dose of your own medicine.  

“I love eating breakfast by myself.” You announce out loud, reaching over to take some of Steve’s bacon, “Love getting three plates just for me.” 

Bucky’s laugh makes your ears go bright pink the same time your teeth crush the sliver of meat in your hand. 

-- 

The Cincinnati Zoo returns you to sweeter childhood memories of elementary field trips where the kids went ballistic and the adults spent most of their time counting heads. Your parents never partook in chaperoning, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t enjoy it. 

Today, the weather is overcast, and upon the first drop of rain, Steve goes inside a merchandise store to buy two umbrellas. He returns just a bit too late and there is already a huge downpour, soaking half of Bucky’s arm who’s standing over you, acting as a shield when the awning of the building across the store isn’t enough.  

“Get over here!” You’re yelling, tugging on Bucky’s sleeve and stomping your foot, “What’s the point of you getting wet just so I don’t get wet? You’re so stupid!”  

Steve watches him relent with a smile as he opens his umbrella and tosses the second one to Bucky. Then, the three of you trek through puddles and make your way to the covered exhibits. 

Fiona the hippo is asleep in a little alcove of her aquarium, head tucked away. You explain to them the majesty of Fiona’s sonogram, birth, and her subsequent celebrity, but they don’t understand her like you do. They can’t even see the damn creature, Bucky scoffs, but you glare at him and he rolls his eyes away. 

You coo and tut, waggling your finger when her tail flops side-to-side and her back legs kick. When she has a bowel movement in her sleep and it disperses into the very water she’s resting in, you back up and gag, pushing Steve and Bucky away. 

“Alright, let’s go look at some other chonkers.” You proclaim as you lead them to the manatees.  

 Three enormous, alabaster, and smooth-skinned sea cows float serenely in the murky blue. Two of them have green heads of lettuce clenched between their flippers and are chomping away, bits of leaves floating around their heads like vegetable halos.  

You press your hand against the glass and sigh. Steve and Bucky step closer, looking down curiously when you wipe at the corner of your eye. “Look at these giant fuckers.” You whisper, “I haven’t known peace like that since I was a fetus.” 

Bucky rolls his eyes, “God, you’re dramatic.” 

It’s quiet in the chamber with only the faint splashing of the rain falling on the water outside and plunking drips from your umbrella onto the concrete floor. Between a family’s departure and before the next one’s arrival, Bucky pushes you up against the glass and kisses you in front of an audience of marine mammals and Steve Rogers’ smirk. 

“How’s that for peace?” He mutters, mouth still pressed against yours. Your heart is thumping in your ears like a battle-drum. Bucky snags your bottom lip with his teeth and licks the sting away.  

“I think you—” you gulp, feeling your bottom lip snap back into place and giving it a slow suck just to see if it’s still there, “maybe need to consult a dictionary. But—you know, good try...” 

-- 

They are relentless. 

In the café while eating greasy cheese and ham sandwiches and cold vegetables, they take turns knocking their knees into yours, grazing your thighs and legs. 

Between the big cats and the painted dogs, Steve squeezes your waist and rests his hand there until you shuffle away.  

Under the shelter of a tree by the elephants, Bucky blows on your ear and laughs when you shriek in surprise. Good God Almighty. There are goosebumps all over your skin even though you are burning. 

-- 

Bucky drives home after deftly fishing the keys out of your bag. He could have thrown a grenade in there and you wouldn’t have noticed, being too distracted by the big and daunting reality of being… whatever it is you are now.  

Currently, Steve rides shotgun, glancing back to you once or twice every few minutes as you gaze out the window. The rain only let up a couple of minutes ago as all three of you exhausted every open exhibit at the zoo. Your feet are blistered from the repeated chafing of your toes against the wet front of your sandals, and the bottom of them hurt like the devil.  

A tiny buzz alerts you to the phone tucked away in your pocket. 

Natasha: So, you guys fucking yet?  

Your heart leaps into your mouth. 

You: What the fuck!!!! Did you plan this? You have cursed me, Natasha. I am broiling in the deepest layer of hell and they are feasting on my bones you asshole!  

Natasha:That’s too kinky even for me. Enjoy being feasted upon. Later.  

Steve twists his head around like a goddamn owl and looks at you, “Everything okay?” 

You refuse to meet his gaze, “Uh-huh.” 

Bucky finds your eyes closed tightly the rear view. “Are you actually shy ?” He ponders, grin tugging at the edge of his mouth. When you say nothing, he continues, “I would have never guessed if I hadn’t seen it first-hand. Today.” 

“Be quiet.” You groan. 

“Don’t be like that, princess,” he chides, pulling into the driveway. “You’re a pretty good liar.” 

“You’re a pretty good liar! Heh!” You sneer back, imitating the way his voice might sound if he inhaled a lungful of helium. When the car stops and Bucky shuts off the engine, he turns around through the middle console and sends you a fanged grin, reminiscent of the way he snarled at you the first time he came to your apartment. 

Then he’s out the door, closing it with a quiet bang. Steve whistles lowly and looks over his shoulder, “You’re in for it now.” 

-- 

Bucky throws you into the pool.  

He at least has the decency to take your phone out of your pocket before he chucks you in like a dead fish. Since it’s drizzled all day, the water is cold as all fuck and when it hits your back the shock stifles the scream wrenched from your throat. 

You resurface with a shriek, teeth chattering as you break the water and try to swim to the edge. You can barely get your hair out of your face before an enormous splash creates a wave that slams itself on the top of your head. Another cannonball goes into the blue and by the time your eyes are dry enough to see what the fuck is going on, you’re sandwiched between them and the cold slips right out of your skin. 

Steve’s hands have faithfully returned to your legs where the opening of your romper floats around in the chilling water. The tips of your toes are pointed, and your mouth is barely above the splashes of chlorine licking at your chin. Bucky and Steve are standing flat on their feet, barely wet at their collarbones. 

“Better hold on, ‘less you’re interested in drownin’.” Bucky teases. A mouthful gets spit out onto his neck and for a second you think maybe that point is worth it until Steve picks you up by the waist and dumps you two inches left and the water goes right over your head. 

You scramble and splash, regretting not taking those swimming classes seriously because all you can do is (sort of) float on your back and doggy paddle for about three minutes. Bucky chuckles when you finally relent and wrap your arms around his neck, burying your burning face into his sopping hair. 

“Is this your idea of getting me wet.” You mumble as your cheeks scorch against him. Steve is behind you, kissing your nape until you lean back onto his shoulder too, both inflamed and anxious by their rapt attention. 

“Is it working?” Steve asks, and your silence is enough of an answer all on its own. You feel as if you might be brave enough to look up into Bucky’s eyes, maybe kiss him again, but a third and final cannonball crashes into the tranquil waves and then Buckeye breaks the water with a series of grunts and pants.  

His fat head bobs up and down as he paddles about, tongue hanging limply from his jaw. As he makes his way past the three of you staring blankly at him, Buckeye gives Steve’s face a long, slow lick.  

You swear you can hear Captain America faintly call your dog a “goddamn cockblock”. 

-- 

Steve is in the shower when you snuggle up with Buckeye on the couch. A thick wool blanket covers your bare legs as you lean over, placing your head on your dog’s coiled body. He’s still a little damp from pool water, and the velvet grey of his coat is speckled with dark splotches. From downstairs, Bucky arrives, wet hair behind his ears and quietly lifts your dog up and places him on the sofa couch across from the coffee table. He smells like peppermint body wash.  

The sudden thought of him wearing red and white and kissing you under a mistletoe wriggles into your brain and you could scream. Instead, you steel yourself, scold the fantasy until it leaves.  

Your head lays on Buckeye’s former seat, dampening the leather, staring up into the ceiling.  

Bucky wordlessly smooths the blanket over your legs, sits down on the floor, and props his head up on his arms until he’s looking into your eyes. “Hey,” he says, biting on the tiniest bit of his bottom lip in a way uncharacteristic of him—nervous, careful. “Y’know, if this is too much—say somethin’—I’d rather be your friend than nothing at all.”  

A smirk tugs the corner of your lip and he huffs at the sight of it, waiting for a comment but still, he feels uneasy. You’re not looking at him, not yet, at least. It’s still up in the air if you’ll laugh or cry; your emotions have become overwrought when thinking of them. The quips here and there have been tiny little bandages over the aching wound. 

“C’mon,” Bucky whispers, “Thought you were gonna be bastard about it.”  

“Sorry…” You mutter, turning to face him. A single tear drops out and rolls over your nose bridge, plunking down onto the leather. “I think I am... feeling both overwhelmed and…” You close your eyes, trying to find your words. “I think I’m also feeling inadequate.” 

Bucky’s brow furrows, creating fine creases on his forehead. 

“I guess as a normal person, now faced with something … very serious-- two entire lives that have started  way  before me and will last long after me, I’m just wondering how exactly I will fit? It’s certainly selfish... ” 

“It’s not.”  

A jerk of your mouth catches his gaze, “I can’t stop thinking about you.” You laugh, knowing fully well that the statement sounds silly because he’s right in front of you now, as he’s been for the past few days. And your comment makes it seem like he’s leagues away. “I want you to be happy. I think you‘ve spent so long not being, I just want you to be happy.”  

Against your better judgement, you turn until your entire body is facing him and brush your fingers along his chin, then trail up until you are holding onto the side of his neck, thumb under his ear. Bucky smiles that lopsided boyish smile at you, set in the angular, firm face of a man, and closes his eyes. 

“Thanks.” 

He opens them, letting the gray-blue dance over your features. You feel brave again, because Bucky Barnes is inches away, looking at you like you could be part of his world. Leaning forward, you press your lips to his softly. He is already a part of  your  world, more ingrained than you ever thought could be in the short time you’ve known him.  

You kiss him again. For good measure. And then again, for luck, maybe. “You know I meant it, last night.” You sigh against his mouth, “I do love you two.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Bucky dismisses it playfully as he lifts himself up just a little more to hover over your face, turning so that his mouth slants on yours just right. “No time to talk now, darlin’.”  

He scrubs his beard against your neck, and you start giggling uncontrollably at the way it tickles. His nose brushes against your ear and his tongue traces your jaw before he peppers kisses up to your mouth. His fingers tap a staccato of morse code up and down your sides as you squeal.  

Who knew The Winter Soldier could be so... cute? 

“I’m ready for a nap!” Steve calls from the hallway, stopping short of interrupting the moment. “Think all of us can fit on the bed?” 

“Steve, man, it’s like evening time.” Your voice is muffled against Bucky’s face once more as he takes the opportunity to kiss you again. 

“I’m trying to find an excuse to lie down,” Steve grumbles. You hear his footsteps stop behind Bucky as he peers over his shoulder and into your upside-down face. “Will ya come to bed or not?” 

Rolling your eyes with a smile, you hide behind Bucky’s hair. “Well, fuckin’ twist my arm...”  

-- 

Steve sleeps like the dead. It’s comical how he sprawls out and snores softly, like he doesn’t have a care in the world. And maybe he doesn’t, now that he’s retired. 

You and Bucky have moved to one side where he lies with one arm tucked behind his head and the other one under yours. He tells you Steve usually isn’t so ridiculous, sleeping very lightly and wakes up at the slightest noise, but now there’s a conversation being carried centimeters away from his face and he’s not stirred at all.  

Bucky smiles at this, says thank god, he needs it. 

“He’s gonna be up at three bouncing off the walls.” You warn. 

“Yeah, it’s fine. He’ll sprint fifty miles and go to bed.” 

“Jesus, why?” 

“Super serum bullshit, and because he’s a show-offy asshole.” 

“Aren’t you... also serum-ed?”  

“Yeah, but I also love my bed.” 

At that, you whistle, “Man after my own heart.” 

His face lights up as he turns to peer at you resting on the crook of his arm, leaning so that the top of your head is barely on his chest. “Oh yeah?” The silly conversation takes a turn when Bucky tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, finding excuse to let his fingers roam along the edge of your eyebrow, trailing down until he’s past your cheek, further down to your shoulder.  

It’s his left hand that’s touching you, the cold metal of the appendage sending shivers down your back. You can’t help but gaze at the way it reflects the setting sun slipping through the cracks of your blinds. 

The hand under your head is shifted until he’s propping himself up on it.  

Your mouth goes drier each time he squeezes your arm, closing your eyes to concentrate on the contradicting sensations—your warm body, his cold hand, quickly losing its chill. He travels down, down, until his palm is on your hip, then your thigh, then, ghosting between your legs. 

Against your back is Steve, sighing softly. 

“I feel like I’m living out the thirst tweet ‘bout your arm.” You mutter, eyes closing with a tremulous shudder. Bucky laughs, fingers diving between your thighs, hand wrapping over one. 

“You got a thing for getting choked, too?” It’s a joke, but he pinches your flesh and when your tummy flutters, you suddenly grow a bit afraid of your own desires.  

Behind you, Steve stirs. “Don’t let him do it.” His gravelly voice pipes up, muffled by the pillow his cheek is pressed against, “He toes the line of erotic asphyxiation too closely.” Then, he turns, spooning you, and falls back asleep. 

Why the fuck does Captain America know anything about erotic asphyxiation. 

Bucky is laughing again, pulling you to his chest before he stills. “I wouldn’t. Unless you really wanted it.”  

“Jesus would you stop.” You mumble, but peek up at him anyway, lips parting in anticipation. He gives it to you, curling his hand around the back of your neck and murmuring nonsense into your mouth. Witticisms that you quickly bite off with a teasing snap of teeth. Bucky pulls away with a sound of surprise. 

“Oh, kitten. You got claws, huh?” 

You show him your canines. “Always had ‘em, bee-itch.” He doesn’t know how a person can make the word  bitch  into two annoying—maybe endearing— syllables, but you’ve done it. 

Bucky laughs joyfully, smothers his face into the pillow like he doesn’t want you to see, because Bucky Barnes’ reputation as a stone-cold motherfucker has been completely ripped to shreds in your hands and he is trying desperately to retain some semblance of it. 

You grab his face, grinning, eager to see that winsome smile of his.  

“Fuck, I like you.” He says with a chuckle. 

“Aw, don’t be a bee-itch, Buck.” Steve calls from your back, apparently not asleep after all. “Tell ‘er the damn truth!” Your spine picks up the humidity of his breath, shivers running all the way up to your neck when he kisses your shoulder blade with sloppy presses of his mouth. 

In the sunset glow, Bucky groans dramatically as you and Steve wait, smirks shared between two utter bastards, he thinks. He groans and groans and when he’s out of one long breath he picks up another. 

“Fine, fine.” He relents finally, letting you bask in the glory of that gorgeous wide mouth, stretched so sweetly. He laughs.  

“I love you too. Twist my fuckin’ arm.”  

Next

[gentlemanmendes]

Can u do a imagine based on the game “Truth or Drink” (see it on youtube), where Shawn and y/n are roommates and in love with each other and they discover it during the game?

Okay so I think I understand the game but if I got it wrong my sincerest apologies.

“Where did you get this game?” Y/n laughed.

Her hands anxiously tapped on the coffee table as she sat cross legged on the floor watching while Shawn set up the game.

“I played it in an interview once but because I took more shots than I answered questions they decided not to air it.”

At the revelation y/n couldn’t help but laugh.

Of course Shawn would show his stubborn streak when it came to telling the whole world the truth when asked extremely personal questions.

She didn’t blame him, she would probably do the same.

“So the rules are simple,” y/n watched as Shawn crossed his insanely long legs and tried not to giggle at how child like he looked. “Either answer truthfully, or drink.”

Y/n eyed the bottle of tequila suspiciously as if knowing it would be her undoing tonight.

“Are you sure this is a good idea. I mean we are roommates after all, what if we say something we can’t take back.”

“Then hope you’re drunk enough that you don’t remember tomorrow.” Resorted Shawn.

His attention only on the shot glasses he was so focused on expertly filling.

“You go first.” Y/n cowardly blurted out.

With an eye roll Shawn obliged with a nod.

“Do you miss me when you’re away?”

Deep down y/n knew the answer, but there was still that small part of her that doubted it.

“Of course I do. I’m offended you would ask such a question.”

Ignoring his remark, y/n gestured for Shawn to take his turn.

“Do you miss me when I’m away?”

She was feeding his ego, she knew that, but regardless she and answered with an offended, “Of course I do.”

“Dumbest thing you’ve ever done on tour?”

They were starting easy, just to warm into things, but when the time came things would get messy.

Y/n, attempting to be daring, took a shot for fun.

Shawn’s wide eyed look of surprise feeding her confidence.

Shawn quickly followed suit before answering.

“Long story short; there was a spider in the hotel bathroom, I got scared and ended up locked out of my room with nothing but a towel wrapped around my lower regions.”

Y/n’s shriek of laughter was the response that Shawn had prepared for but had not wanted to hear.

He mumbled under his breath, “I’m not drunk enough for this stupid game.” Before downing another shot while y/n regained herself from her laughing fit.

The game continued with more embarrassing moments shared.

The fact that the two were comfortable enough to share such information with each other made the game a sober struggle so they opted for more shots for fun as the questions were answered truthfully.

“Tell me about your first kiss.”

Shawn only now realized that he didn’t know much about y/n’s dating life before they moved in together. It wasn’t like she shared the information with him, he just happened to see it play out.

“I was eighteen, he was my first boyfriend.”

Y/n trailed off as if trying to remember the moment clearly in her fuzzy brain.

“Physically it was good- he told me I was a great kisser.” She offered proudly. “But I didn’t feel anything for him so it didn’t feel as magical as I thought it should.”

“Have you had better kisses since then?”

“Hey!” Y/n pointed an accusing finger Shawn’s way as she filled up her shot glass again. “It’s my turn to ask a question. Don’t cheat.”

Her words were becoming harder to think of, her tongue now a loose canon going by its own rules.

“If given the chance would you sleep with me?”

Some distant part of her mind was screaming not to walk such dangerous territory but that part was too far away to be considered relevant.

Shawn’s eyes widened, but just as quickly he snapped out of it. His eyes raked up and down y/n’s body, not in a perverted way, more as if he was contemplating his options.

“Like side by side in the same bed?”

He knew what she meant, he was stalling.

“No, like sex.” She groaned growing impatient. His brown eyes, holding an intensity she had never seen before, met her’s.

“Yes.”

Y/n’s insides tightened.

Forgetting how to breath she had to look away to gain some type of sanity.

“If you could sleep with anyone in the world, who would it be?”

Y/n didn’t hesitate. She reached for the shot and downed it without a second thought.

She knew the answer which was why she could never say it.

Her mind constantly trailed to what it might be like to be Shawn’s, but she dismissed the thought before it could blossom into anything else. It would do more harm then good.

“Coward.” Shawn called her out.

“I’m not telling you.”

“And why not?” A cocky grin was plastered across Shawn’s face.

He knew. She wasn’t sure how, but he knew.

“Because. As if I’m going to tell you that you’re the guy I want to sleep with.” Y/n blurted out before she could stop herself.

Realizing when it was to late.

Y/n let out an audible gasp, her hand flying to her mouth as if she could stop herself from saying anything else.

She didn’t dare look at Shawn. Not after what she had just admitted.

Her insides were as heavy as dried cement as she waited for Shawn to say something.

But he didn’t.

He sat  quietly, not even looking at her.

It would have hurt less if he laughed in her face, or even made fun of her. In that moment y/n realized how much she held onto the hope that things would one day change between her and Shawn. That between the two something might actually grow.

Between all the flirting and the constant teasing each other she had fallen for him hopelessly. All those days she counted the time it would take for him to reply. Kept up with the date until he would come home.

And he didn’t feel the same back. Y/n mumbled something about needing a break before pushing herself up and hurrying to the safety that was her room.

She told herself not to cry, that it wasn’t worth it, that it was nothing. But she couldn’t help it.

It was why she hadn’t been able to date, why she couldn’t stand the thought of kissing anyone else. Because she wanted Shawn. She wanted him so badly, but he didn’t feel the same way back.

A knock came at the door five minutes later causing y/n to mentally groan but remain silent.

“Can we talk?”

Y/n didn’t answer.

In this moment it would be easier to just shut out all emotions instead of facing the heartache that was sure to come.

Shawn sat beside y/n, the bed shifting beneath his weight.

Growing impatient with the silence that was agony, y/n was about to tell Shawn to just say it when Shawn decided to take matters into his own hands.

Before y/n could even register the movement, which she was sure was part of Shawn’s plan. His hand had her cheek cupped and his lips were on hers.

At first her reaction was delayed.

Until she grasped what was happening.

Shawn was kissing her. And she wasn’t kissing back.

Her body fell into sync not long after. Her lips moving with his.

The stone cold cement within her melting to warm butter on hot toast. This was all she wanted, all she had hoped for.

She knew it was reckless to put so much emotion into wanting a guy but in this moment it all felt worth it. Until reality came crushing down on her.

She pulled away sooner than she would have like to, and sooner than Shawn had anticipated as his lips lingered close to here clearly wanting more.

“Shawn, I don’t just want sex.” She whispered against his lips not daring to open her eyes in fear that she might fall apart completely. “If we do this, it has to be the real thing.”

“Y/n you’re forgetting that I know you better than anyone, yourself included.” He paused, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

Taking that as a yes, she pulled away to regain herself. Her ,one a mess of all types of emotions.

“You and your stupid games just had to ruin everything.”

Shawn gave a hearty laugh. The sound sending shivers down her spine

. “This is what I was hoping would happen. Except for the fact that you’re crying right now.”

“What happened to asking a girl out the old fashion way."Y/n shrieked earning her another laugh from Shawn.

It was impossible not to smile at the sight of him in that moment.

"You know I’m an emotional drunk.”

The events of tonight were nothing in comparison to what usually went down.

“Where’s the fun in that?”

She gave him a playful push at the obvious amusement laced on his features.

“Leave me alone.” She mumbled turning away from him.

He twisted his body so he was in front of y/n yet again. His hands cupping her face, his lips close enough that his warm breath against her own lips was enough to cause shivers to run down her spine.

“Never.” He whispered before reconnecting their lips.