#so I'm keeping a close eye on my mental state and grip on reality this time fsdjkl no delusions for me this time!

[dandelionpath]

Keeping an eye on if any more weevils come into the house, because it seems like perhaps Loki has switched from spiders (I have developed genuine arachnophobia lmao) to weevils for getting my attention when I'm being really stubborn

I had THREE weevils in the span of two days, and they were in very odd places (halfway up the shower wall for example), and as soon as I acknowledged Loki and made sure to keep checking in with him throughout the day, there haven't been any more?

Not taking this as fact though yet because it might've just been a wild happenstance that three ended up in that room so close together in time. We'll see! If I keep up with Loki and don't see any more weevils then I'll be a little more leaning towards a metaphysical explanation for it :]

[ilykaveh]

"open your mouth for me, baby." | with choso kamo .

❀ — content: fem reader, multiple rounds, finger sucking, praise, subspace, overstim, creampie.

due to his nature as a half-curse, choso could last a lot longer in bed than you could. three orgasms in and you were already rendered stupid; so pliant around his cock as if you were nothing more than a cockdrunk mess tangled in the sheets as the man continued to fuck you even still.

"just one more, sweetheart," he cooed, leaning over to cup your cheek. "you look so pretty for me,"

tears began to well up in your eyes as you made feeble attempts to talk, but only silly little babbles fell from your mouth. choso ran a thumb over your drool-soaked lips, smiling to himself as you made an attempt to suck the digit.

"you don't need to think, princess. i've got you. open your mouth for me, baby,"

doing exactly as he said, you let the hazy feeling consume you. choso continued his gentle thrusts into your messy cunt as soft moans filled the room. your overstimulated pussy fluttered around him; every movement was so full of love and adoration. you succumbed to your instincts and sucked on choso's thumb, mentally thanking him when he added another couple of ringed fingers into your mouth.

fuck. he loved how dumb you looked. like a poor little bunny who didn't know any better. so vulnerable, so fucking cute, and all his.

subconsciously, choso's pace sped up. he held onto your hip with a tender grip, keeping you in place. you sobbed lightly when his pelvic bone accidentally brushed against your clit, and again each time the tip of his cock grazed your abused cervix. he hushed your cries every time, feeling a little bit selfish for carrying on fucking you to this point. when you began babbling about cumming, his fingers still in your mouth, choso was dragged away from his thoughts and back to reality.

"do you want me to fill you up, darling?" he asked, only anticipating a nod in response, of which he got. "that's it, my sweet pea, are you going to cum for me again, yeah?"

choso adorable smile made you feel so warm inside. you again did your best to nod an affirmative, though the dizziness had a grip on you. he muttered broken praises and a few pet names, none of which you could fully comprehend considering the fact that his cock was hitting all of the right spots and sending you tumbling towards yet another high.

"cho-" you cried, though you were interrupted by a sob.

"shh, just let go, princess. i've got you, i'm here,"

your smaller hands wrapped around his arm, nails digging crescent-shaped marks into his skin. it felt like choso had lit a match inside of you and you were now on fire. there was a heavy pressure in your lower region, and he sweet-talked you through it. before you knew it, your warm cunt had him in a near death grip as your orgasm hit you like a ton of bricks.

choso took his fingers out of yourself, instead cupping your face as you shook. he had a habit of holding you close when he came, wanting nothing more than to cherish you.

the sensation of your spasming cunt drove him over the edge, with choso groaning your name and octave deeper than his usual voice as he spilled his hot cum against your womb. he absent-mindedly thrust a few more times, though considerably sloppier than those prior.

within the blink of an eye, the man collapsed on the sheets next to you and let you curl into his hold. the feeling of his skin against your own helped you slowly anchor yourself back to the land of the sane.

"mpfh," you mumbled, face mushed against choso's chest.

"what's that, sweetheart? is everything okay?" he could feel your lips contort into a smile, and it filled him with a sense of pride that you were comfortable enough to let your guard down entirely when with him.

"'m good," though full sentences were a struggle, it calmed your boyfriend to know that you were gaining full control back of your state of mind. "comfy,"

he smiled himself. "i'll clean you up in a second, baby. we can stay like this for a moment longer, how does that sound?"

[whitherwordswither]

02: Wrapped Up For Your Continuance

Some undetermined amount of hours had passed since the overwhelming pleasure of morning's first light, but it was like a distant dream upon the ledge of a precipice I could no longer reach. An echo, and a questionable one at that. The collective haze that had been buzzing in my brain and casting a heavy fog of war over my entire existence was gradually fading. But the picture was far from being any clearer.

I blinked, rubbing my eyes. I found myself sitting at my kitchen table, staring down at the dark oak top. Fingertips traced over the old scuffed surface as I tilted my head. There was no recollection of getting out of bed, much less putting on the clothes I found myself wearing. So why was I here? More over… I couldn't seem to recount for… for… how long had it been? What happened to yesterday? The day before? And even before that?

The spacious gaps in my memory were concerning and immediately piqued my anxiety. Why couldn't I remember anything? Shakily, I gripped the edge of the table in an effort to make myself stand. I didn't quite get that far as I, instead, found myself frozen in place. Having lifted my head, I was now staring across the table at… at what? It didn't make sense. Not at first.

It was like someone had neglected a garden for far too long and it had gained sentience through overgrown ire then murdered its abusive gardener with their own trowel and then casually assumed a facsimile of their shape. Or maybe I had taken a lot of drugs, which would account for the brainfog and lapses, and constructed some weird plant-matter piece of art in a state of heightened neuro-fuckery.

Neither were quite accurate. This plant construct had a face. Eyes. A smile. It tilted its head in the same fashion as I did, a singular vine worming its way across the tabletop to lay across the back of my hand. It was warm and applied pressure, squeezing. Comforting… in a not-from-this-side-of-reality kind of way.

"Good morning, again, my little sweetling~"

A mouth shifted beneath some leaf-like facial coverings. It was familiar to me, somehow. I felt we knew one another. My eyes fell to the vine, little fronds rubbing against my hand and over my wrist. My body slumped and I found myself sitting back down. No. This wasn't right, was it? The eyes across from me were deep, dark pools with traces of luminescent green, languidly oscillating like ripples stuck in a loop. I wanted to close the distance between us. I wanted to be wrapped in those arms. Those vines. But… why?

"W-wh…" My mouth was dry. Parched, like I hadn't spoken in days. Another vine shifted across the table, pushing a glass of water toward me. I took it and drank, slowly gulping it down, letting the cool liquid refresh me. More vines crept under the table, touching and gently brushing over my legs. Who? What? Where? So many questions rose in my mind as it struggled with the remote feeling that it knew this entity and at the same time not at all. I set the glass down and tried again to speak.

"Who… a-are…" Was all I managed to get out before the tip of one of those tendrils pressed to my lips.

"Tsk, tsk~ You know who I am, my darling. Are you feeling well? Does anything hurt? Tell me… and I will ease your discomforts straight away~" A series of smaller vines unfolded from the plant's shoulders and back, buds blossoming with colorful flowers… with totally non-threatening thorns at the center where a stigma and anthers should have been.

I shook my head, turning my hand over, gaze falling once more as I ran my thumb along a stretch of vine. Smooth. Soft. Why did I feel attachment? Yearning? My brows furrowed. "N-no… no. I'm… fine… I think…?"

"Are you certain? You've been through quite a lot of mental turmoil. I don't want you reopening any of those nasty little passages and slipping in to the cracks again. We'll keep you safe. Everything will be alright. We're together now." The words were meant to be reassuring, but my brain wasn't letting things go so easily. The gaps fueled that fire. I pulled my hand away from the vine.

"Who… are you…? Wh-what's… what's going on…?" I stammered through my words, my pulse picking up as I squirmed in my seat. Uncertainty seeded and grew quick in my mind, raising red flags. Sparking a wave of anxiousness. The clouds cleared. I shoved back from my chair as I stood, unsteadily falling back against the dining hutch behind me. Glass rattled with the impact. Now that I had a hold of that uneasy thread I wasn't letting go. This was my house. I lived here. Alone. And many years before, family. Stepmom. Father. Sister. I grew up here.

The plant was out of place. Alien. I could feel a frantic bile at the back of my throat as my brain scrambled in attempts to calculate the best course of action. My legs refused to comply to my many demands that they move me, with haste. I turned my head toward the kitchen. The island counter, cluttered with years of knicks, knacks, odds, ends… and knives.

Movement had my attention snapping back to my uninvited guest. The vines had withdrawn back toward it as it slowly stood. It was taller than it had any right to be, having to bend slightly to not hit the ceiling, which was lower in this part of the house. It's features, for a moment, were twisted in what I could only describe as distaste… then swiftly shifted to comfort. For my benefit? Was it playing harmless? It's body rustled, leaves twitching as if in a breeze. It seemed to shrink, folding in on itself, tendrils constricting as it adopted a more humanoid shape. My leg muscles were cramping and a strained noise warbled in my throat as it approached, tapered digits akin to branches spread, showing it meant no ill will. My brain screamed I could trust it at the same time it screamed to get away. And all I could do was shrink back against the hutch, near to hyperventilating as my thoughts raced like bolts of lightning across a boiling sky.

"Shhhh~ Shhh~ It's alright, sweetling. You're alright. I am not here to hurt you. I would never." It crept closer. Closer. Those spindly fingers traced up my arms, rubbed over my shoulders and neck then carefully cradled my face. I could look nowhere else except in to those mesmerizing eyes, opening wider and wider before me. Swirling. The front of the plant's body pressed against mine, exuding warmth. "I can see that I did not do a very acceptable job in altering all the appropriate neural pathways… for that I apologize, little one. It has been, admittedly, a long time since I have worked with your species."

The words whirled around in my ears, fixating on one in particular: Altering. What did it mean? Pathways? Worked with? A pit formed in my stomach as I shook, despite the calming caresses. Vines played along my sides and hips, trying to lull me back in to a more tranquil state.

"Wh-what… d-did you… do? Why… c-can't I… re… remember…?" Why did I feel so accusatory, so certain this creature was at fault? Was it? Was I? My inner monologue separated in to pieces and argued. I hated when it did that. It was always a circular struggle that went nowhere.

"You will not remember." It's next words were sharp. Commanding. The bark-like palm of it's hand pressed to my cheek. Stroked. I found my head tilting in to it as the entity's voice softened. "It's for your own safety, little one. I know things are fuzzy and frightening right now. But I am here to help you. I'm going to make everything better. I promise. You won't hurt ever again…"

I was so focused on their eyes I didn't notice the two flowers snaking around, nor did I feel the dual pinpricks against my neck. Those eyes were too beautiful I wanted to do nothing else but stare in to them forever. No, more than that. I wanted to crawl in to them! I felt myself leaning toward the plant, the edges of my vision darkening. The whole world was darkening. But that was ok! I felt like I was being pulled in to those eyes. Swallowed by them. I could feel myself dipping in to warm murky water, thick like syrup. Swirls of green like ripples drifting outward from my body. That's when the haziness returned. But I didn't mind it. I was safe here. Everything felt tingly and warm and good. So very good. Was that me who giggled?

"Come with me now, sweetling~ We're going to have a nice dream. A perfect spring meadow. Just the two of us~"

Like the softest cotton, I followed those words deeper down and further out in to bliss. My body was forgotten, wrapped yet again in a thousand vines and carried off to the living room couch. Nestled down. Protected as I swam the endless ocean of the pools in the plant's eyes and dissolved in their obscuring waters. I became the salt in that sea. I swam and coalesced and drifted along until I could no longer feel myself. I was an empty vessel waiting to be refilled with the warmth of being.

I was an empty vessel waiting for meaning.

[bored-storyteller]

(Little general warning: I understand that my mind when it comes to Uta imagines the reader as human by default, so if you don't like it please specify it in the request)

Hi Anon!

I'll be honest, this time I'm not satisfied. I am not convinced that I have written anything that can really make you feel emotions. In my head, I had imagined a more bloodthirsty scenario (I like to write this kind of thing with him) and also with Uta appearing as Kakuja, but then all that violence seemed out of place if not requested so I calmed down a bit the things. Despite this, I still have the desire to write something similar. Anyway, I'm sorry, I'm willing to rewrite it if you don't like it.

64- Tokyo ghoul, Uta x human! Reader

From the prompt list

3- "What would you do if I didn't come back?"

Uta sometimes raises doubts, lately more than usual.

It's not unusual for his eyes to scan you and linger on you. He stopped listening to you for a while, while you talk to someone on the phone.

You look annoyed, you are declining an invitation, perhaps, or otherwise you are giving up on something. For him, of course.

His lids tighten slightly around your figure, while his cheek rests lazily on the back of his hand.

"You should really go with them." His quiet voice reaches you as soon as your call closes. You turn to look at him, the only other living being besides you among all those lifeless masks.

You smile at him, as you always do.

"I wouldn't go anyway." Your answer is ready and prepared. How true is it? How much of what you do and what you don't do is for your free choice, and not to protect him or yourself? He is not even convinced that he fully understands how much you have to give up on your human life.

He doesn’t doubt that maybe at the beginning it was worth it, for you. But now, how much is true affection, yours, and how much just habit? A risky, deadly habit.

Your fingers gently pick up the sketches he left on the table, you flip through them as you always do and he looks at you, from his sitting position.

He does not believe that you are forced to be with him, or that you are afraid of leaving him, but there is the doubt that your love is slowly being replaced by the everyday life of your relationship.

"What would you do if I didn't come back?"

His question was asked casually, almost as if he were pointing out to you how the rain made the afternoon air humid.

Your gaze suddenly lost and upset for a moment almost made him go back on the question. "Forget it" he was about to tell you, yet his teeth bite his tongue and that ambiguity remains suspended between you two.

"What does it mean?" You ask him, and a slight uncertain smile is painted on your fragile lips, almost asking him to joke "Why are you asking me this question now?"

Your uncertain voice always makes his heart tremble. When he feels you scared, or fearful, it's somehow as if he shares the same anxieties as you. Yet, deep inside him, the most selfish part of him is happy if you at least suffer a little for him.

"I would come to look for you ..." You murmur in response when you realize that he is still waiting. Your words are so light and fragile that he himself cannot find the courage to push them further.

It’s obvious that you answer like this, that you there in front of him have neither the desire nor the courage to really imagine yourself in a situation in which Uta will not come back into your life. That's right, he's sure you're fond of him, but do you still really love him? Do you love him as in the beginning?

The alleged absence of him scares you, but if it really happened, perhaps, in the real situation, you would notice the less weight on your shoulders, the absence of the chains that keep you tied to constant danger.

But maybe you can't see it now, not if you don't have to change your daily life.

. . .

Uta never believed that his heart could make itself so present. He feels it throbbing violently against his ribcage taking away space for his lungs to breathe, he feels it forcefully pumping the blood into his veins and wrists so much that if you focus you could see the vibrations under his skin. He never believed his body could go into such a state of agitation, even his distorted kagune wriggled inside him to be able to get out and release that tension.

The smell of your blood was enough. This was enough, and the world around Uta had darkened and there was for him that dangerous red trail that led him to you. And even if his face seems calm and focused, the terror of never seeing you again grips him.

Why are you there in the first place? You don't have to be there, he warned you. He always warns you, to keep you safe - to keep you from seeing.

It's hard for him to hold back when his mental state is in that situation. When he needs blood, fun and killing, when he needs it to stay who he is. And as much as he would like it, not even your presence can allay that need.

Indeed, you are a stimulus. Your eyes that silently scrutinize him from your hiding place are a charge for him to do better. He might say to himself that it's his revenge on whoever hurt you, but the truth is that he's now free to vent that part of him in front of you too. That part of him that he always tries to keep you safe from, that part of himself that you shouldn't be there for, not where the Clowns were operating.

That part of him that will make you go away.

It is at that thought that calm him down. Him, the world, his heart. Suddenly, when there is nothing but him and his dirty hands, your presence in that place becomes concrete, almost heavy.

His eyes seek you, hidden as you are in his half of the battlefield.

"It's me ..." the sweet note of his voice echoes in the calm after the storm "It's just me."

It's just him. No hero ready to save you, only Uta in his natural madness.

Your head pops out from behind your makeshift barrier, and he frantically approaches to check on you. Thank goodness you are fine, thank goodness the wound is not serious, thank goodness you seem not to feel too much pain, thank goodness ...

"Uta!"

His attention is on you, on your worried eyes.

Oh, you're still there. You didn't run away. You are there, kneeling in front of him, and he is leaning over you looking at your injured shoulder, but you don't seem to care.

"What are you doing here?" It wasn't actually the first question he wanted to ask. He had to ask you if you were okay, what that idiot had done to you, he had to take care of you. But all he could think was that you didn't have to see, you didn't have to imagine reality.

Because the weight on your shoulders would have been too much, and you would never come back.

"You never came back." Your voice again interrupts his thoughts as they wriggled again like agitated snakes in his head.

"You never came back, I came to look for you."

You say it with a look so clear and sincere that Uta for a moment is almost afraid to say anything. It seems that nothing is wrong with you in any of this; neither the danger you ran, nor the wound on your shoulder, nor his inhuman violence. You were looking for him. You were afraid that he would never come back to you, and you looked for him, as you said.

You did not remain silent waiting, you did not hope for a while to get rid of him, nor did you plan to remain without him. Instead, those words of him had remained inside you to the point of putting you in danger.

The truth is that Uta had thought he was not enough for you, or rather that you considered him as such by now. After all the sacrifices, after all the burdens you carried because of him, he really thought that you had stopped loving him, wanting him to be yours.

Perhaps this is because Uta has stopped loving himself for a long time.

But you got there, because you want him back, and if he hadn't arrived, whether you are aware of it or not, it would have been you who did not come back.

You wouldn't be back.

"Forgive me." His voice is little more than a whisper as his palm gently wraps your cheek "Does it hurt a lot?"

He pulls you close to him, into his arms. He needs to feel you, feel your warmth, your weight, your cold hands on his body. His face bends into the hollow of your neck, inhaling your perfume, smelling you not as a prey but as something of him, to be loved and protected.

"You won't go away, will you?"

Your question is innocent as you curl up in him, likewise seeking your presence.

His nose cuddles against your temple, continuing to perceive you with all possible senses.

If all renunciations of your human life are your choice, then he's not going to stop you from doing it.

"Not as long as you want me."

[sirthisisa-wendys]

The Enforcers Part 8 (Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader)

wc: 1.7k

tw: dark content (self-harm)

masterlist

a/n: By no means do I condone self-harm or want to glorify it in the light of this chapter. As a person who struggled with physical self-harm in her early teens, I know the destructive nature of this type of activity. However, as my characters are not perfect and complicated, I see this particular mode of action as something she would try to do in order to alleviate her pain and confusion. If you have questions or concerns, my inbox is always open to having a discussion about it.

If you so wish, you may skip this chapter altogether. There will be a recap on the next one if you choose to skip for your mental health. Take care of yourselves and see you soon. (ALSO, I know I promised smut but I gotta give y'all a raincheck this go-round. SORRY PLS DON'T KILL ME)

You're on your forty-seventh file of scandals, coverups, and secret dossiers that you finally feel it. The fabric of your identity begins to unravel right before your eyes.

Everything you've known is a lie.

The CSB has covered up so many things. So many lives lost. So many people forced to flee. So many families ripped apart--

An email makes its way over to the server, and you open it, the words across the screen coming from Suguru.

I know it's late, but send over Yu Haibara's files when you can.

You hit the reply button and begin to type out: "You mean the boy you killed?" but you stop yourself, deleting the words rapidly. Instead, you attach the files and send them over, not even bothering to look at them. You can't do it. Not another file could be stored away in the annals of your brain.

Nothing is as it seems anymore. The lies... they pile up in your mind, flooding the spaces where you used to hold what you thought was true, what you thought was real. Now, they're overflowing out of your brain and into your heart and soul, plaguing you like the nightmares that face you down night after night, more like demons that lurk in the corners of your mind than full file cabinets.

You always wake up in a tangle of sheets and sweat, one of your various enemies' faces hovering over you right before you stare down the barrel of a gun and --

You stumble out of the chair, eyes wet with tears, and go to the sink in the bathroom to wash your face. After you splash water on your skin, you look up at your reflection, anger rolling through you at the way you look. Weak.

You're fucking weak.

The voice in your head that usually told you that you were doing okay, that you had it all under control, is now turning on you, spitting nasty words that stick in between the synapses of your brain a muddy your rational thoughts.

The voices rise to a fever pitch, and you suddenly see red, the entirety of the world descending into blood-colored madness. The shattering of the glass mirror only becomes a reality when you're standing above the sink, chest heaving as your thoughts silence one by one, like shutting off lights in a house.

But only one stays behind as a shard of the mirror clinks into the sink.

Escape.

The light at the end of the tunnel.

You could get rid of the feelings here. You could get rid of the thoughts. You could escape. Why hadn't you thought about this before?

"Do it."

Your fingers grip the jagged shard of glass carefully, and before you can stop yourself, you drag it across the inside of your wrist, end to end, leaving behind a red line of blood that immediately blooms. Crimson dots drop into the sink, and you stare at the color, mesmerized by the way the blood runs down your arm and into the porcelain bowl. But there's no relief.

No sense of freedom.

Maybe you didn't do it hard enough?

Maybe you didn't--

The door to your room slams open, and you turn your head just as Suguru comes rushing into the bathroom. The shard of glass is still in your hand, as well as the blood running down your arm, and Suguru catches this immediately.

"Fuck," he breathes, and you turn to him, shard extended.

"Don't come any closer."

"Y/n," he calmly whispers. "You don't look so good."

"I wonder why that is," you reply, and Suguru stares back at you, hands raised in surrender.

"What're you doing?"

"What does it look like, Suguru?" you state in a trance. Your bullet wound begins to throb dully, but you ignore it, just like you're ignoring the blood dripping onto the tile flooring.

"Y/n, let's think about this."

"I don't want to think anymore!" The shrill scream is loud enough to make Suguru flinch, and you softly repeat, "I don't want to think anymore," over and over again as tears run down your face.

"I know," Suguru whispers. "I know. Will you let me help you?" You hiccup and drop the piece of glass to the floor, dissolving in a heap of tears and moans. You feel hands pulling you up from the floor and into strong arms, your head being cradled against a broad chest you've felt before. "Go ahead," Suguru encourages you. "Cry it out."

He carries you to another room in the building in silence, laying you on a firm bed and disappearing as you heave painful sobs into the sheets.

"Everything... hurts..." you gasp, and when Suguru reappears with a white bundle of cloth, a bandage roll, and some water, he nods.

"We're going to make it better, don't worry." He takes your injured arm and carefully wipes away the blood, examing the cut slowly. "Doesn't need stitches, thankfully." He turns to open the water bottle and hands it to you, silently telling you to drink while he bandages your wrist.

You drink the water greedily then lean back on the headboard, eyes closing down as Suguru works diligently on your wound. And then you remember the first time he did this for you and the mistake you made in your pridefulness.

"Thank you," you murmur, and Suguru looks up at your face, finally seeing some form of clarity cross your tear-streaked cheeks.

"You're welcome," he replies tenderly. "I have to keep you safe, remember? I promised you that I would." You don't answer him, but he finishes at that exact moment anyways, standing and placing the remnants of the bandage roll on the nightstand. The wound is now covered up completely, with no sign of blood seeping through the cotton and staining the white cloth dark red.

You watch as Suguru crawls into the bed beside you, sighing deeply as he runs his fingers through his locks. "Should I stay awake with you or do you want to try to sleep?"

"Sleep," you answer - albeit not confidently - and the black-eyed man obliges, pulling the thin sheet over you.

"I'll be right here," he affirms, but you reach out your uninjured arm and touch his hand. He instantly turns his palm up to let you grab his fingers, and you pull him closer to you in the king-sized bed.

"Hold me." A second passes with no movement, and Suguru whispers,

"Are you sure?" You nod, and he wordlessly scoots closer, wrapping an arm around you as you nestle into his side with your bandaged hand resting on his chest. His fingers rub a soft pattern up and down your skin, soothing you to the brink of sleep. "I've got you. We'll deal with everything else in the morning," Suguru murmurs as you slip off into a dreamless - and nightmare-less - sleep.

_____________________________________________________________

Morning comes and goes.

Midday arrives, and you awaken from your terrorless sleep still encased in Suguru's grasp. Your eyes flick up to his face, which is peaceful in the midday light streaming in from the windows. The Leader of the Fallen Sun District is asleep and dead to the world around him, but the sound of his breathing lets you know he's on the brink of waking up.

Part of you doesn't want him to. You want to lay there without any responsibilities to him, without any concern, or further harm to either one of you. Maybe if you continued to sleep, all of this would become a distant memory. All of this would go away, and you could go back to living in ignorance.

But Suguru's stirring makes you stiffen, and you feel his arms tighten around you before sliding away.

"You're awake."

"Yeah," you whisper, and he sits up, pulling his knees to his chest.

"We need to talk about last night." You sit up as well, staring at the edge of the bed blankly. "Why didn't you tell someone about your declining mental health?"

"I didn't realize it until it was too late," you admit, looking at the bandage on your wrist. "But I won't be doing that again."

"Doesn't matter," Suguru interjects, looking over at you. You choose to avoid his gaze and stare at your feet, inhaling deeply. "I have to have someone watch you now. I want you to be safe, and now I'm not sure if I can ensure that without some oversight on my part."

"No," you exhale quickly, looking over at him in fear. "I'm better now, I promise."

"I'll have someone move a few of your things over here. That way I can keep an eye on you, just in case." Suguru continues, standing from his position on the bed. "I won't bother you. But I made a promise to you, and I'm going to keep it at all costs." He turns back to you, stating, "Today we'll take a day off and go into the town. I've been wanting to show you around for a while anyway."

You conclude the argument is over when he places a kiss on your temple, then walks into his bathroom, shutting the door and leaving you on the bed alone.

_____________________________________________________________

A car picks both of you up from the building, and when you slide into the backseat, Suguru points to the expanse in the distance.

"Take us to the marketplace." The driver nods, scars running up and down his pale face and his blue eyes looking up at you in the rearview mirror. Does this man even know that he's sitting next to the leader of the Fallen Sun district? Or is Kenjaku a faceless man, hiding behind walls of ones and zeroes?

The scenes that pass by you look identical to those of the city you know and love. There are children playing on the sidewalks, people carrying groceries, life carrying on as if the majority of their names aren't on some rejected list of people who defected from their previous society. Suguru notices your awe at the way things are, and looks over at you, smiling brightly.

"You'd be surprised what you can build from ashes, y/n."

_____________________________________________________________

TAGLIST: @missbonekitty @wack0-genius @thankuary @jsqeeut @r-i-m-f-009 @sunfloweroranges @leanne-tamashi @girlruby23 @rein-icu @brownskinnedgirll @chanelmalandro @savantsoulfinder @jibe-gajima @chilledlucifer @amnxsia @kontentious @fuyuko26 @everybodylovescayrayray @flare-on @sammytamaki @meena-in-a-nutshell @falling-through-pages @naoyasdarling

[mywonuderful]

Sweet n' Sour Chicken

anon request: hi, can I request a fluffy college au with Jacob from the boyz? 🥺

pairing: college!jacob x college!reader

genre: college au, fluff

warning: cursing and some anatomy terms for those KINE students out there 

a/n: thanks for the request anon! I had lots of fun writing this so I hope you like it :)

main masterlist

You knew you fucked up.

2 minutes

You sprinted, your bag swinging in all directions as you opened the doors of the building, jumped ran down the stairs and finally reached the doors of your practicum.

‘it literally take 10 minutes for me to travel from one building to another. why does my practicums have to be on opposite side of the campus?’ You caught your breath, wiping the sweat that was falling from the side of your face. You peaked through the half opened door, hearing the instructor explain the lab as you scanned the room for any empty seats.

'Second last row, beside the guy in a demin jacket' You took note as you quietly opened the door, hoping the instructor doesn't noticed as you tippy toed your way to the empty seat.

"Excuse me." You pointed at the empty seat beside him. He mouthed a 'sorry' before he moved his guitar bag and stood up for you to pass through. You eyes lingered at the guitar for a moment before you threw your bag on the table, chugging your water.

'A musical major taking an anatomy course? What is he thinking?' You resting your head on your hand, glancing over at him, observing his appearance. His hair was dyed to a honey brown color, looking soft as a pillow. He was wearing a demin jacket with a plaid and t-shirt underneath and you could hear his metal accessories clink every so often when he moved.

“Miss ‘late for the nth time’"You heard your instructor yell as you snapped to reality.

“Yes!” You answered, immediately feeling embarrassed as you knew he was calling for you.”

“You’ll be pairing up with Jacob, the guy you’ve been staring at for the past 5 minutes.” The guy so called named Jacob turned to look at you as you darted your head away, cheeks heating up as you heard a few people chuckle. The teacher went on explaining the purpose and procedure of the labs as you had your hand on your forehead, staring down at the sheet of paper as you mentally cursed at yourself for always being late and for checking out the man who turned out to be your lab partner. The room was filled with student’s voices overlapping each other as everyone got to work. You faced the wall, too ashamed to face your lab partner as you heard him clear his throat, trying to get your attention.

“Hey, so I’m Jac-”

“I am not interested in you.” You cut him off as his eyes widen from your statement. “I wasn’t checking you out.”

"Umm. Okay.” He slowly nodded, as you followed, whisper a ‘yeah, not interested’ to reassure yourself. 

“I didn’t ask.” Your eyes looked up to his as you both stared at each other before he broke into a smile. “Anyways, I’m Jacob.” He stuck out his hand, waiting for you to shake it.

“And I am sick and tired of labs.” You rolled your eyes. He still hand has hand extended, waiting for you to shake it as you narrowed your eyes at him, noting his unique behavior. “Y/N.” you shook his hand.

“Shall we get started on this practicum then?”

"Let me just say this first." He looked at you, waiting to continue as you lost your words for a second in his eyes. "We're going to get this over with, then part ways and never see each other again okay? I don't care what mark I get in this lab nor do I really care in general about labs." You looked at him, regretting the words that left your mouth.

"Cool. let's get started then?" Your heart stung from his response as you hesitantly nodded your head.

Unlike what you said, the both of you didn't part ways and never see each other again after that lab. Instead, you would purposely accidently meet him in lectures, other courses and around the campus where you found out that the two of you shared many common interests and that the both of you were in the same program. As those 'unexpected' encounters became more and more regular, your interest in him become more and more clear as his quiet, soft yet observed actions would always catch you off guard. But whenever that happens, you made sure to not like your feelings get in your way, as you know you aren't up for that kind of commitment.

-

"Where does the mandible articulate?"

"Uh... temporal bone?"

"Good. What joint does the mandible and temporal bone form?" You pressed your brows together, deep in thought. "We went through this 10 minutes ago."

"Cut me some slack, Jacob. I can only stuff so much information in this small brain." He smiled at your response. "Why do you always smile in the most unexpected moments? If you keep this up, I don't know what I'll end up doing." You mumbled to yourself as he waited for your answer

"That didn't sound like the rig-"

"I don't know! The temporalmandible joint or something?" You gave up as he slightly nodded. "Wait, did you hear what I said before that?" Panic started to form as you felt the cold sweat in your hands

"Close. Temporomandibular joint. And no, it just sounded longer than the actual answer." He corrected as you groaned, banging your forehead on the table as he slid his hand under so you won't end up bruising your forehead. "You're going to lose brain cells if you keep banging your head." You shot your head up, looking at him with a defeated face.

"But I'm already stupid!" You cried as he shook his head, patting your head.

"I'm joking. It takes more than just banging your head." You glared at him.

"Then why get me all worked up?"

"So you could stop ruining that beautiful forehead of yours?" I'm sorry but that sounds weird even as a complement You leaned back, taken by surprised before you snapped back to reality. "Look, there's a little trick on memorizing it. Just combine the two words together." He pointed at the pictures on the computer as you tried to focus. He would lean closer to you every so often as he pointed at the diagrams as your heart would race when he did.

"So the joint connecting the tibia and fibula would be the tibiofibular joint?" You asked as you pointed at the picture. He turned to look at you with wide eyes before he broke out into a chuckle.

"Correct!" The both of you laughed as the remaining of your study session went on.

-

By the time the two of you were finished with studying, it was already the late evening as one of the cafe employee came over to inform the customers that it was closing time. You glanced out the window, seeing rain drops slowly fall. Jacob was packing up beside you, as he followed your vision.

"The weather forecast did say it'll rain these couple of days." He mentioned as you stared out the evening sky, rain drops falling harder by the second.

"God, even mother nature hates me." You sighed as you packed your things, hearing a chuckle from him. "What? You find it amusing that the world is despises me?" He shook his head, waving his hand in denial.

"You're wrong. The whole world doesn't hate you."

"Then who doesn't?"

"There's me." You were zipping up your bag, stopping midway as you lifted your head to look up at him. He had a soft expression on his face, as your cheeks started to tint up.

"Geez, I thought I was weird but I'm starting to question who's the weird one here" You threw the bag over your shoulder as you opened the door, holding your textbooks over your head as you were about to ran to the nearest building when he suddenly grabbed your arm.

"I've got you covered." He opened his umbrella, lifting it over your head.

"Actually, the umbrella has us covered." You stated in a matter of fact tone as he laughed, lightly pulling your arm closer to him as the both of you started walking. He suggested that you stay over at his place for the time being knowing that you usually bus home. The two of you walked in silence as you took in the sound of the wind and raindrops hitting the tops of the umbrella, his grip still around your arm. He unlocked the door and turned on the lights, before gesturing you to enter first while he flicks off the remaining droplets. To your surprise, it was a little bigger than expected for a home for one person. You found yourself wandering around as he closed the door, taking off his shoes and jacket. You placed your bag down on the couch and sat down as you looked out the window, seeing the weather get more and more intense.

"Doesn't seem like the rain will calm down anytime soon." He spoke from the opened kitchen. You hummed in response, eyes found its way on a display of pictures of when he was younger with his family, brother and friends. You stood up, walking over to take a closer look as a smile appeared on your face.

"Ah, those were when I was in the volleyball and basketball team." He stated, offering you a cup of hot tea and you nodded, sitting back down as he took a seat next to you. You didn't know where to look as you stared out the window.

"Do you like the rain?" He asked to break the silence.

"No, I absolutely hate it." You turned to look at him. "I don't know where else to look." You admitted as he laughed.

"You sure are one bright person." You spoke, taking a sip. "Compared to someone like me."

"What do you mean? I find you bright as well." He snickered at his compliment.

"Not at all. I've already come into terms with my sour personality. It's just who I am. Someone who's better off alone and unbothered." He was deep in thought as you peeked over, trying to read him. "Why did you decide to be friends with me?"

"I didn't. It was you who asked for my number for the lab assignment." He pointed at you as you gasped, taken back.

"You're just trying to be funny now."

"Then tell me you didn't purposely go the opposite way so that you would 'bump' into me." You avoided his eyes, feeling ashamed that he taught on to your actions

"I can't confidently say that I didn't to it on purpose. But I swear, half- no not have, three forth of time it weren't on purpose!" You defended yourself before the two of you broke into laugher.

"How about we order some take-out? I don't think going out to grab food in the rain would be ideal with the weather being like this."

"I like your thinking. What should we order?"

An hour passed after you ordered as both of you would exchange short conversations here and there.

"You must be a pretty athletics person. Seeing how many awards you've won." His eyes were fixed on the trophies, a small smile upon his face.

"You could say so. How about you? Do you play any sports?"

"Nope. The most athletic thing I've done is run from practicums to practicums." You chuckled as he joined. The doorbell rang as you stood up to answer before he told you to sit down. He thank the delivery man and paid as he locked the door, placing the takeout on the coffee table.

He took out the takeout containers, opening them as your eyes landed on a particular dish.

"Sweet and sour chicken? I didn't remember us ordering that." He brought out some plates and took a seat beside you, knees brushing as he sat down.

"I added it last minute. Craved it, I guess." He replied as you nodded, not caring as the both of you started to eat.

"Say, I remember you carrying a guitar case the first time we met." You spoke as he looked up, trying to recall.

"Ah yeah, it was for a band I'm in." Your eyebrow rose, noting that he was an all rounder.

"Talk about being Mr. Perfect." You stuffed your face with rice.

"I still lack a lot." You choked on your rice as he immediately patted your back, opening a bottle water for you to drink.

"Lack *cough* my *cough* ass" you took a sip. "If you still 'lack a lot' then what does that make me? A complete failure?"

"What? No! Why do you talk so lowly of yourself?" His voice was serious. "You always compliment others but you can't seem to take a compliment on yourself."

"Wha- I have no idea what you're talking about." You put down your utensils.

"Are you finished with this? If you are then let's clean up." He started cleaning up the empty and dirty containers, you quietly following as you wondered why he suddenly jumped subjects. After cleaning up, you sat on the floor as he sat on the couch, the awkward silence was floating heavily around you.

"Hey Y/N." You looked up at him, the back on your head resting on the couch. "Can I tell you something? You have to hear me out though." You nodded, as he started playing with his fingers, trying to put together his words as you found his actions adorable, a giggle escape d your lips as you coughed to cover it up

"Stop thinking so small of yourself. You're not a failure nor does the world hate you. In fact, I find you very admirable in many ways." You shifted your body to face his. "Maybe if you see it in my eyes, you'll know just how amazing you are." You could see the blush across his cheeks, you bit your lip, feeling confused yet lighten from his words.

"Why?" He met yours eyes. "After seeing my personality, the way I act and talk. Why do you still hang out with me?" You answered.

"Do you want me to answer truthfully?" He stood up as you nodded, before he left to go into his room, coming back out with his guitar.

"I've been working on this song but the lyrics isn't ready but I have the instrumental down. Do you want to hear it?" You shrugged your shoulder, mumbling a 'why not,' feeling a little disappointed that he still didn't answer your question. He started strumming an upbeat yet sentimental tune. You found yourself swaying your head back and forth where when Jacob saw, he broke out into a smile as the both of you chuckled.

"Wow. You really are talented." You applauded as he shyly smiled

"There's a reasoning why I wrote this piece." He looked down at his guitar, stroking the strings lightly. "There someone who is so mentally strong no matter how hard the world is in her eyes. She carries herself well, not caring what others think or say about her. I find it admirable that she's so strong but then again, she doesn't realize it herself. I find myself attracted to her, even when she finds that her personality is sour, but I find it rather sweet." You stared right into his eyes as he would avoid them time to time. "And that's why this song is called sweet and sour."

"Like the sweet and sour chicken?" You tilted your head

"Yeah you could say that."

"So who's is she?" You leaned in, feeling a little upset that it wasn't you but nonetheless, anticipated. He placed his guitar to the side, resting his elbows on his knees, leaning in to you.

"If I told you, would you believe me?" He whispered. His eyes would glance down at your lips as your heart started to race.

"I mean, why wouldn't I?"

"It's you." Your eyes popped out, leaning back from surprised but Jacob held on to your shoulders. He slowly inches closer, your eyes shutting before you felt his lips on yours. You instantly smiled, you feeling his lips curving up as well. As you parted, he brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, both of you in a blushing mess.

"I guess you can say our relationship is like a sweet and sour chicken. Unique and irresistible." He smirked as you playfully punched his knee, exchanging flushed glances and laughter.

[ifwallscouldtalkkkk]

"Look, I'm not gonna kidnap you" - Michael Clifford Oneshot (COLLEGE)

Female reader × Michael Clifford

Mentions of alcohol, slightly tipsy (consensual) interactions, swearing, SMUT.

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You miss your bus home after a night partying with friends. Luckily, you meet a guy willing to give you a ride home, and his playful pinky promise to not kidnap you somehow convinces you to accept.

The smut in this story is fairly short. This was my first ever attempt at writing fanfic back in 2018, and I was a bit scared of sounding stupid

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Your shoes clacked as you ran on the cobblestones. You were so close to the bus station that you could see the bus driver flicking a cigarette butt onto the ground and leaving the embers glowing on the dark cobblestones, before taking his seat behind the wheel. You picked up your pace even more and frantically waved a hand in the air, hoping that you could cut ahead as the bus made its turn around the station back and onto the road. You cursed under your breath, mentally labeling yourself an idiot for staying at the party a couple of extra minutes to say your goodbyes to a friend who was too preoccupied with shouting random answers to the ongoing pictionary game to even hear you.

You skipped every other step on the small set of stairs to reach the platform, and when you reached the corner where the bus would turn, you started jumping up and down and waving in a feeble attempt to get the driver to stop and pick you up even though you weren't technically in the pick up zone. You could see him seeing you, it was a clear summer night and thus barely even dark! But the near empty bus didn't stop. The driver probably saw you as an entitled child who was too drunk to be on time, and maybe he was at least 25% right.

”Fucking bastard” you squeezed out through clenched teeth as you stomped around in a little circle with your head thrown back in frustration. Calling your parents to drive an hour in the middle of the night to come pick you up and let you off at your dorm was not ideal. You knew that they would do it for you, not wanting you to walk the 6 miles home. No, this was definitely not your plan, but maybe it was a bit irresponsible to plan to take the very last bus for the night. You stomped one last time and breathed out deeply.

”What the fuck are you doing, girl?”, someone called out in a humored undertone.

You swiveled around and your eyes landed on a car parked a short distance away, at the designated pick up- drop off parking area. The boy whom the voice belonged to leaned out the open window of the driver’s seat, with his arms folded and propped up on the edge of the window. His smug smirk felt hurtful in your frustrated state, but it brought you back to reality somewhat. You could admit that you probably looked like a child who didn't get a pony for christmas – and to be honest, you felt the same amount of betrayal.

”What a fucking jerk!”, the guy in the car yelled when you didn't answer. ”Where ya heading to?”

You donned a tortured expression, brushed out your skirt, picked your bag off the ground, and started walking home.

You heard the lone car start and you put a bit more speed in your step. It soon pulled up mere inches from you anyways.

”Come on, you're not seriously walking home? You obviously live a ways away since you were supposed to take the bus”, he said with the same amused tone in his voice.

”I'll be ok, and you're probably wanting to get home yourself”, you said, trying to politely reinforce the idea of him leaving you alone

”Look, I’m not gonna kidnap you, I pinky promise”, he chuckled at his own words but continued when you kept your eyes locked straight ahead. ”Girl, I’m guessing that you live on campus, and that's like a billion miles away. I’ll drop you off all gentlemanly at your doorstep and tip my imaginary top hat at you as I drive away, never to be seen again.” You stopped walking and he had to jerk his car to a stop along with you.

”The fact that you know that I live on campus is not very reassuring”, you replied.

He rolled his eyes and let out a little laugh. ”That bus-” he pointed down the road that your planned ride home had disappeared along a few minutes earlier ”-goes straight to campus. I just dropped my pal off here to avoid driving him all the way to the uni, but looks like I’ll have to go there now anyways.” You looked him in the eyes. The way he spoke elicited a strange amount of trust, and although a couple of piercings and a questionable hair color for an adult could be spotted under his beanie, he didn't seem like bad news. ”Look, the door doesn't even lock properly, I wouldn't even be able to kidnap you!” he demonstrated the faulty lock on the passenger door. You had to smile at the enthusiastic way he presented it.

”You promise you won't leave serial killer notes in my mailbox?” He lit up even more at your reply.

”Promise”, he said. You swung your bag up on your shoulder and reached for the door. This was in no way the wisest thing to do in the situation, but you were already overwon by his goofy charm.

You climbed in and kept your gaze forward, feeling the boy's eyes on you, and you caught yourself subconsciously holding your breath. You caved and looked at him when it became clear he wasn't going to drive forward before you gave in.

”Seatbelt.” he said with a parental tone. ”Can't have such a pretty girl making unsafe choices!” It wasn't as funny of a comment as his facial expression suggested, but he really knew how to lighten the mood. ”Michael.” He stretched his hand out to shake yours formally. You replied with your name and a firm handshake. ”Oh girl, with that grip, no one could even dream of succeeding in kidnapping you" he said, laughing at your overly stern behavior.

”I just hate limp handshakes", you smiled, rummaging around in your bag after a snack. ”Damn it I left my granola bar at home”, you muttered under your breath.

”Oh uh, I've got a bag of peanuts somewhere…” Michael trailed off, reaching over to the glove department to rummage through his own stuff. His warm hand grazed your bare knee while reaching and you tensed up at his accidental touch.

”Dude, eyes on the road!” you exclaimed and he chuckled in response.

”I thought risk taking was a theme tonight – oh wait, here they are!” He plopped a bag of salted peanuts in your lap.

”Wait, you're not allergic, are you?” he asked. ”Some risks are not worth taking.”

”No, I love peanuts, no worries”, you poured a handful out and put a few in your mouth. After a night consisting mostly of liquor and dancing around, something to eat felt heavenly.

Michael asked you a couple of standard questions about your studies, and you gave all the standard answers.

”I kinda miss studying. Never thought I'd say that." Michael smiled. His hand dipped down into the bag in your lap to get some peanuts, getting dangerously close to between your thighs. You stumbled for a few seconds.

”Um oh, ok really?” His behavior was so unlike anyone else you knew. He was so daring and sure of himself, but he felt so warm and fuzzy in contrast. Maybe the previously ingested alcohol skewed your judgement, but you couldn't help but find this stranger utterly charming.

”Yeah… I'm on the road a lot nowadays for work", came his reply.

”Oh, what do you do? Uber driver for college girls who can't keep track of time?” You saw one corner of his mouth pulling smugly upwards at your joke.

”Uh no, I'm in the music producing business.”

”Huh, that's fun. I wasn-" you didn't finish your sentence as a deer jumped out onto the otherwise vacant road from between a few bushes on the side of the long stretch of asphalt nearing the campus grounds.

”Oh shit", you heard Michael exclaim while swerving a bit and stepping hard on the brakes. The deer stared confused at the headlights before scurrying off towards the other side of the road. ”You ok?!” the boy asked between quick breaths. Your breath was labored too, but your eyes and mind were mostly focused on the male hand that had instinctively been placed protectively on your thigh while braking. Michael unfastened his seatbelt and leaned closer when he didn't get an answer.

”Uh, yeah…” your eyes now focused on his light, green, worried eyes.

You just stared. You didn't mean to, but you didn't make an effort to look away either. He had gotten so close. His left hand was on your upper arm in a protective manner, and his face was just inches away from yours. You didn't mean to stare, and you most definitely didn't mean for your eyes to briefly flicker down to look at his lips. He noticed. He must have noticed given the way you were both so focused on each other.

”Wa-", you began, but didn't finish the sentence. To be honest, you couldn't even remember what you were about to say. Your eyes flickered down again, when your vocal cords failed you.

‘Shit!’ Your mind blasted out inside your own head, but Michael didn’t pull away, or look alarmed. If anything, his brow furrowed deeper, all the while he was trying to calm his own breath. After a couple more sharp exhales his grip on your arm tightened, and he pressed his lips to yours quickly, as if he was taking a running start. You kissed back automatically before you even registered what was happening. You tensed up and felt Michael’s grip loosen as if to retreat. 'No no no', you were not gonna lose this moment. No way. To signal that you were on board with what was happening you brought your hand up to his neck. ‘He can't stop now’, you were aching for him to continue touching you.

He got more involved in the kiss in response, and your other hand found its way up to the back of his neck too. The hand that had previously resided firmly on your arm now fell to your thigh and snaked its way to the back of your knees, pulling you closer still. Your voice had given up any sort of attempt of self control, and a short moan escaped your lips. The man reacted to your premature excitement and his right hand fumbled to find your seat belt button. In a surprisingly smooth motion for the situation being, he simultaneously pushed his own seat back from the steering wheel, and pulled you onto his lap as soon as the belt let go of you. Both your hands braced against Michael's chest, while his own hands pressed into your sides. Your fingers curled to grip his shirt, and his fingers mimicked yours by curling too, his nails digging into you. You could feel your pulse going crazy. Michael's heartbeat was probably also going off the rails, because he lifted you off of him a couple of inches so that he could grow more comfortably in his pants. He looked you deep in your eyes the entire time and let out a lengthy exhale.

“Girl, I don't even know what to do with you.”

He grabbed your ass to grind you into him. You let yourself angle your head back in reaction to your core finally being stimulated, and Michael straightened up his upper body to nibble at your neck. You helped him by moving your own hips along with the rhythm, but his hands still stayed firmly on your ass. When you couldn't take it anymore, you reached down to unclasp his belt, but your fingers fumbled more than you intended. You hadn't noticed how much you were shaking in excitement before now.

The stranger turned lover stared into your eyes patiently while you unbuttoned his jeans, but as soon as you managed to slide them down his thighs he pressed you hard against him, almost as hard as he pressed your lips together. Your underwear starting to become soaked from the thought of what was to come. Michael shifted his underwear down to meet his jeans. His hands couldn't decide where to rest, alternating between your hips, your chest, and your neck.

When focusing on your hips, his fingers on one hand slid up ever so slightly underneath the hem of your underwear, and his touch left you grinding harder into his thigh. You could tell that Michael knew how wet you were, your panties practically gliding around. His fingers found your hemline once more, and he slowly let his fingers follow the leg seam downwards. He let two fingers slip between you and the fabric to rest right outside your entrance for what felt like several minutes, but then inserted them forcefully when your whimpers became more desperate. He groaned too, from getting to feel you from the inside and knowing what pleasures it gave you. As if this didn't feel explosive enough already, his thumb joined his other fingers and circled your clit carefully.

You felt your cheeks turn red from the blood rushing fast through your body. Feeling sparks in your lower stomach already was not something you anticipated. Michael seemed to understand though, because he stilled you from assisting his fingers’ movement. He had stopped his movements too to make sure you would focus on his face. The look of his eyes as he kept them locked on yours was piercing and the icy-ness of it felt amazing on your hot cheeks. He held one hand deep inside of you, and the other on his own throbbing organ. He slowly replaced his two fingers with his cock, letting you get used to him gradually. You sank down, and the pain of stretching was miniscule compared to all the pleasure in the air. Once Michael was sure that you were comfortable with him, he elevated his hips just enough to push your limits. He finally let out a well kept-in moan. The subtle hip movements turned more and more intense until the point where you could tell you would end up with leg cramps in a few hours. The car wasn’t gigantic by any means, but you found ways to make do. With your hands behind your back, you could hold onto the steering wheel for support, with the added benefit of letting Michael’s hands roam over your torso freely.

Eyes watering, heart pumping, and legs trembling, you could feel your orgasm coming closer. Both your moans blended together into an audible mess as the electric pulses took over your body. After your release, your body relaxed heavy against the steering wheel.

A long, loud honk sounded out before you could get the chance to lift yourself off in horror. ‘Oh shit.’ The motion of lifting yourself off and plopping down in the passenger seat again wasn’t graceful, but it was at least fairly quick. You sat paralyzed holding onto your seat as a dog barked loudly at the sudden interruption of the usual peace and quiet. A lamp lit up in a house a few hundred yards away. It took a minute, but Michael finally chuckled - his hands rubbing his face. You cracked a smile too, but your stiffened posture would take a few minutes to get rid of. Michael clearly had a more easily relaxed personality than you.

The back of his head lay on the head rest, and he let it fall to one side to turn towards you. The same all-too-humored look that he had when you missed the bus was painted over his face. He didn't say anything, and neither did you. Words didn't really help in this predicament. He just pulled his pants up to waist level again and turned the car keys. You two drove in silence the few minutes left to reach campus grounds.

He crawled to a stop outside of the main dorms, and turned his head lazily again. You had quickly gathered your stuff in your hands as he pulled in, and you got out the second the car stopped.

“Well, uh… Thanks for the ride”, you said politely.

“You’re welcome”, he replied just as politely, and with a rare sincerity.

You raised your palm up in a subdued goodbye as you took a few steps backwards, and then turned around to walk away. Your shoes on the asphalt click-clacked loudly in the silent summer night. You reached for the door handle, the cool metal feeling sobering in your grip.

“HEY!” a word sliced through the silence.

You spun around on your toes quickly.

“Hey girl!” Michael continued when he knew he had your attention. He was leaning out the rolled down window again.

“I know where you live!” The grin on his face almost bursting by the seams.

A huge smile immediately spread across your face too.

ifwallscouldtalkkkk MASTERLIST

[imaginationintowords]

Folklore [song series]

this is me trying

Modern Day AU! Steve Rogers x OC!Reader; Bucky Barnes x Natasha Romanoff

Plot: Inspired by Taylor Swift’s new album folklore. The story follows the timeline of Bucky and Elizabeth’s life throughout the years.

word count: 3592

[a/n: I’m so sorry that it’s taken me so long to update this and my other story. i’ve been busy with school and work. thank you for your continued patience and support]

previous part

Series Masterlist

Age: 20 Year: Dec. 2014 Location: Brooklyn, NY

"How have you been James?”

Bucky looks out the window to his right. Hands grasped together in his lap as he sits on the dark green sofa across from the woman he's been seeing for the last 5 months.

He ponders the question, making sure to answer it honestly. He looks back at her giving her his full attention again.

"Good," he answers truthfully, a small smile planted on his face. Life has been good. School is going incredibly well. My job is going better than I could've imagined. Really learning a lot."

"How are things going with Natasha?" The older lady asks.

“Great. Really great," Bucky says with a slightly bigger smile.

"Good. I'm glad to hear that," she smiles back, proud to the see progress James has made since his first visit moths ago.

After the blow up he and Steve had, Bucky fell into a depressive state. He refused to talk to anyone about what had happened. It wasn't until his younger sister Rebecca came to talk to him:

"I get you don't want to talk to any of us about what happened last week," she said as Bucky laid in bed looking out the window, his back facing her, "But you can't just stay in bed, hiding for the world. Starving yourself isn't going to solve anything.

"Sulking is only going to make you worse. It's not healthy, Buck. We're all worried. Ma is incredibly worried. She's barely been eating. I hear her wandering the house at all hours, because she can't sleep."

"You don't want to talk to us, fine. But you need to talk to someone. If not for yourself, but for Ma. Please," she begs, before leaving Bucky alone to ponder what she said.

He knew he wasn't coping the healthy way. He hadn't realized how much he was affecting his family by shutting down. The last thing he wanted to do was worry his mother. So he got himself up, took a shower, ate breakfast with his family. They were surprised to see him come down, but tried not to draw any extra attention to it. Rebecca gave him an understanding nod, which he reciprocated. After breakfast, he began his research. He decided to listen to Rebecca's advice and find someone to talk to someone to help him make sense of what is going on in his mind.

And that's how he ended up in Dr. Abraham's office.

"Have you contacted Steve yet?" She asks.

"No," he answered fiddling with his fingers, "I feel embarrassed about the way I reacted."

"That's normal, James," she assured him, "But in order to repair any damage that's been cost, you need to talk to Steve. To move forward. From what you've told me he's a very understanding person. I'm sure once you've apologized and explain to him the steps you've taken to help your mental health, I'm sure he'd be willing to accept you back into his life."

"I'm not so sure," he looked down at his hands.

"You won't know until you've tried. Listen, I'm not here to tell you what to do or what not to do. I'm just here to help you navigate your thoughts a little better. In a more healthy way. If you're really serious about living a more healthier mental life, I think you should talk to him. You don't want to really throw this lifelong friendship away, do you?"

"No, I don't," he shakes his head.

"Good. Remember to be honest," she tells him, "Vulnerability isn't a bad thing. Your feelings aren't a nuisance. it's how you handle them is what matters. I'm not saying you have to talk to him as soon as you walkout of here. I just want you to start making the notion of doing so. Our time is just about up, how about we do this. Some homework for the week.

"I want you to write a letter to Steve. Bring it in next week, you don't have to read it. But I would like to discuss it. What do you say?"

"Okay, I could do that," he agreed.

Christmas week

Steve and Elizabeth flew back home a few days before Christmas. They put their bags in the trunk of their rental car.

The car ride was silent for awhile, both tired after a long flight, now sitting in traffic on their way back to their parents' place. This would be their first time back to Brooklyn since the whole Bucky situation. The road trip back to California was fun, but there was a looming sadness over Steve. It's not like he regrets standing up to Bucky he doesn't. He just wishes thing would've played out differently. He really wished Bucky would've talked to him before he left back to California.

"How are you feeling about being back?" Elizabeth asks, while they sat in traffic.

"I don't know," Steve sighs, "Feels weird going back home and not talking to Bucky."

"Maybe you should try calling him. It's been a few months. I'm sure he'd be willing to hear you out," she said, rubbing his right arm.

"I don't want to push him," Steve said through gritted teeth, his grip on the steering wheel getting tighter.

Bucky had been a touchy subject the last few months. During the first month Elizabeth would ask Steve if he'd heard from him, the answer always being no, followed by Steve shutting down. After that Elizabeth stopped asking, noticing how much it was affecting Steve, but the constant reminder of it wasn't helping. She knew that if Bucky ever did call, Steve would tell her. The only thing she could do was be patient and be there for Steve whenever he needed her.

The holidays kept everyone busy. On Christmas Eve. Steve spent it with Elizabeth's family at her grandma's house. Elizabeth found herself watching Steve play with her younger cousins, she couldn't help but giggle when they roped him into a tea party. She found herself imagining a future where Steve would do the same with their own children. She quickly shook the daydream away. Reprimanding herself a little for even thinking about kids at their young age.

On Christmas morning Elizabeth and Steve spent it with his parents. It was a nice peaceful day just lounging around in their pajamas. For dinner, Elizabeth's parents went over to have dinner at the Rogers' house. It was a nice little send off dinner for their parents who were leaving for Mexico to spend the New Years for a couples' getaway.

Elizabeth and Steve were heading to the Hamptons to spent NYE with Wanda, Thor, Loki, and Scott. They had planned to have a nice, peaceful trip.

While Steve and Elizabeth were at the Hamptons, Bucky and Natasha were spending their NYE at his family's beach cottage in Port Washington.

They were cuddled on the couch surrounded by take out containers, watching the New Years Eve special waiting for midnight to happen.

Bucky got up about 15 minutes to midnight to grab something from the kitchen. He walked back into the room with a new bottle of champagne and two champagne flutes.

"Got some champagne," he said holding it up for Natasha to see.

"Um," Natasha awkwardly shifted in her seat, "Actually about that."

Bucky looked at Nat confused, putting the bottle and flutes down on the coffee table before sitting back down next to her.

"What's wrong" he asked, grabbing the tv remote to mute the tv, and give Natasha his full undivided attention.

"So there's something I haven't told you," she says looking down at her fidgeting fingers.

"You're worrying me Nat," Bucky said, grabbing her hands to help ease her nerves

She looked up to meet his worry filled eyes.

"I'm pregnant," she announced.

Bucky eyes widen at her announcement, instantly dropping her hands. The look on her face showing she was telling the truth.

"How is that possible?" He asks in disbelief, "We've been so careful. We use double the protection. Condoms and you're on the pill."

"Actually about that," she nervously shifted under his intense gaze, "I haven't been on birth control in a little over two months."

"What?" Bucky yelled, quickly rising from his seat, "What do you mean you haven't been on birth control in a little over two months?"

"I got off of it," she shrugged trying to play it off, "It's my body and I can do what I want with it. And I just wanted to give my body a break, I've been on the pill since I was 15."

"I get it's your body, Natasha, I'm all for you doing whatever you want," he stresses, "but you should've told me. I'm your boyfriend, we have sex frequently. You should've at least had the respect of your sexual partner, letting him know that you were no longer on birth control. So in that case I could've been a tad more careful."

"We were using condoms," she half heartedly defended herself.

"They aren't 100% effective Natasha," he gripped his hair, in complete disbelief over this entire conversation, "You even know that. That also doesn't defend yourself for not telling me. You should've told me."

"I'm sorry. It's not like I was planning for this to happen," she yelled.

Bucky just stared at her like she just grew two heads. How is she not freaking out, he thought. They were clearly way too young for this. Which is why they took precautionary measures.

After a few moments of silence Natasha spoke up, "I'm keeping the baby."

Bucky didn't know what to say. He felt the room closing in on him. He started having a hard time catching his breath.

"James," Natasha quietly said, getting up to check on him. He raised his hand, silently telling her to stay where she's at.

He headed for the back door, the house felt too suffocating for him. He walked through the the small yard to the gate that led to the beach. Stumbling around.

To a stranger they would just think he's drunk. In reality he was just having a panic attack.

It was all too much. His mind was racing.

She's pregnant. With a baby. My baby. I'm going to have a kid. I'm going to be a dad. I'm not ready to be a dad. My dad was shit. God I can't be like my dad. I'm not ready for all of this.

He put his hands on his knees, hunched over trying to catch his breath. But he just couldn't. He did the only thing he could think of. He pulled out his phone and dialed the only person he knew would help.

Steve and Elizabeth were laughing with their friends, waiting for the countdown to begin. Steve felt his phone vibrating in his pocket. He moved his shoulder off of the back of the couch, where Elizabeth was cuddled up against.

He pulled his phone out and his heart dropped at the name that appeared. He quickly got up and walked out of the living room and upstairs to the room where he was staying in for the week.

Wanda raised her eyebrow at Elizabeth, who just shrugged her shoulders, equally as confused.

"Bucky?" Steve answered the phone, closing the door behind him. He could hear Bucky hyperventilating on the other side.

"Steve," he tried to get out.

"Buck, what's wrong?" Steve asked, pressing the phone even closer to his ear the sound of everyone downstairs counting down to midnight.

"Steve, I-," Bucky was struggling to get out.

"Buck, please try to calm down," Steve stressed, "Inhale, hold it for a few seconds and then exhale. You need to calm down. I can't help you, if I can't understand you."

Bucky tried his best to calm himself down, with Steve talking him through it.

"Now, can you explain to me what's wrong?" Steve asked, hearing Bucky's breathing leveling out more.

"I-I'm not re-ready Steve," Bucky stutters, sniffling his nose.

"It's okay take your time, I'm here whenever you're ready."

"No, it's Natasha.”

"What's Natasha? Is she okay?" Steve questioned, getting more concerned.

"Yes, she's fi-ine," he stuttered again, trying to say the words.

"Where are you Buck?" Steve asked, looking around for his shoes and keys.

"I'm at the beach cottage."

"I'm in the Hamptons. Is there any way you can meet me back at my place?"

"Yeah, I think I can," Bucky said a bit more calmer now.

"Okay, I'll see you soon."

When midnight struck Elizabeth went upstairs to check on Steve, making sure everything was okay. She could hear him on the phone talking to Bucky, trying to calm him down. She waited outside of the door to give them some privacy.

Twenty minutes later Wanda went to go check on them, to find Elizabeth sitting on the floor.

"Is everything okay?" She whispered.

"I don't know," she answered, "I'm waiting for Steve. You can head back down, I'll be down shortly."

"Okay. We're here if you guys need anything," Wanda said before walking back down.

After another 25 minutes Elizabeth heard Steve hang up the phone. She softly knocked on the door, and let herself in. She walked in to see Steve frantically going around the room collecting his things.

"Steve is everything okay?"

"It's Buck. He called me while he was having a panic attack. Something about Natasha," he tells her.

"Is she okay?"

"I think so. I was able to calm him down. I need to get back home," he said putting his things in his suitcase.

"Okay. I completely understand. Do you want me to go with you for the drive?" She asked.

"I don't want you to have to cut your time here short," he says, feeling guilty for bringing this on her.

"Steve, something is clearly going on with Bucky. I want you to go to him, but maybe it's best if I drove. I haven't had a drink in hours, and you seem too frantic. Please let me help," she pleaded, placing her hand on his stopping him.

Steve looked up and noticed the worry on Elizabeth's face.

"Okay," he gave in, "We'll need to leave as soon as we can."

Elizabeth nodded, quickly grabbing her weekender bag and start shoving things in. If they forgot anything's he knew Wanda would bring it back.

They said their quick goodbyes and were on the road within 5 minutes, with Elizabeth behind the wheel and Steve fidgeting in the passenger seat.

Bucky took a few minutes to himself on the beach, trying to make sure his anxiety was at rest before he headed back inside. When he entered the house, Natasha shot up from her seat.

"Happy New Years," she awkwardly said, trying to cut the obvious tension.

"Umm," Bucky scratched his head looking everywhere but at Natasha, "We need to leave."

"What?"

"I mean, you can stay if you want and I'll pick you up tomorrow," he rephrased, "But I can't stay here. I need to go. Steve is meeting me at his house."

"Steve?" She was taken back by that mention, not expecting to hear Bucky say his name. He hasn't mentioned Steve in months.

"Yeah, I called him," Bucky says rubbing the back of his neck.

"Well that's good right?"

"Yeah, listen. I really need to go, so are you going to stay or come with me?"

"To see Steve?"

"No. I would drop you off at your place," he tells her, "I'm seeing Steve alone."

"Will she be there?"

Natasha didn't really know exactly why Steve and Bucky weren't talking, at first. Then she heard that Steve and Elizabeth were dating, and it all made sense. The only person that could tear Bucky and Steve apart. She never told Bucky that she knew. Figured it wasn't worth the fight. Especially not now when she was carrying his child.

To an outsider it might seem like she got pregnant on purpose, but that wasn't the case. She knew they were too young for this, at least that's what she thought when she first found out about the pregnancy a week ago. But now that she's sat with it she's taking it as a sign that this is meant to happen. She's just really hoping that Bucky would see it, if not now but eventually.

"Listen, Natasha, I don't have time for this," he looks her in the eyes, "Are you coming or not?"

"I'll get my bag," she remarked with a snark tone, walking passed him to their shared room.

A couple of hours later Bucky was pulling up in front of the Rogers' house. 2:15 am read the clock in his car. He looked to his right, out the passenger side window to see a dark figure sat on the front steps of the house.

Bucky took one last breath before exiting the vehicle.

As soon as he opened the front gate Steve stood up from where he was sat on the stairs.

Once Bucky approached him both young men threw their arms around each other. Gripping each other tightly, fighting back the tears that threatened to fall. They stayed like that for awhile. Relishing in the comfort of being back in each other's arms. Their silent fight no longer important. All they knew in that moment was everything was going to be okay, because no matter what they'll always have each other.

Steve walked into his parents' living room holding two mugs of coffee. As he rounded the couch, he handed one to Bucky.

"Sorry, if I ruined any of your plans," Bucky apologized, "Tell Elizabeth I'm sorry for taking you away."

'Buck, don't worry about it," Steve waved him off, "She completely understands. And truth be told, I wasn't necessarily feeling in the New Year's mood."

"Yeah," Bucky sighs.

"Do you want to talk about what happened tonight?" Bucky nods his head, placing the coffee mug on the coffee table in front of him. He shifted his body to the left to face Steve.

"She's pregnant," he announces.

"What?" Steve asked, not expecting that to be the reason, he quickly placed his mug next to Bucky's.

"Yeah, my reaction exactly," Bucky said.

"What? How?"

"Apparently Natasha hasn't been on the pill in a couple of months," Bucky explains, "And even though we always used condoms, they aren't exactly 100% effective."

"Did you know she wasn't on the pill?"

"Nope," Bucky tells him, "If I knew I wouldn't been a bit more cautious."

"So she told you she was pregnant?" Steve said getting back to it.

"Yeah. She was so nonchalant about it. Like it was no big deal," Bucky stressed,

"How is she just so calm. We're not prepared for this. I'm not ready for this Steve. I can't be a dad. I don't even know how to be a decent human being."

"That's not true Buck," Steve disagreed.

"Come on Steve, we haven't talked in months, and we both know it's not because you didn't try," Bucky says, "I was so caught up in my own jealousy. And selfishness, that I never even considered your feelings or Elizabeth's. And I don't think I can ever make it up to you for treating you like you're nothing to me."

"You were hurt," Steve tried to excuse.

"Doesn't excuse the way I behaved," Bucky says, "I know that now."

"I've been seeing a therapist," Bucky informs him, "I never realized how much my mental health was taking a toll on those around me. So after our fight, I found someone to talk to. To work through the shit that's going on in my mind."

"How's that been going?" Steve asked.

"Good," Bucky gives a half smile, "Really good. She's good. I've realized a lot about myself that I didn't know. Working through all the issues I've had with my father leaving."

"That's good Buck. I'm proud of you, truly," Steve beamed, patting Bucky on the shoulder.

"I really am sorry for the way I behaved," Bucky repeated again.

"Buck, you really don't have to apologize again," Steve told him.

"I need to Steve," he said, "I can't believe I acted that way. I should've been happy for you and Elizabeth. I'm glad you two have each other. Seriously. I couldn't imagine her with anyone better, same goes for you. I won't cause any more issues for you two. It's not worth not having you in my life. You're my brother Steve, and I don't want to miss anything."

"Thanks, Buck. It really means a lot to me to hear that," Steve smiles, "Because I don't want to miss anything in your life also."

"Yeah, especially now," he says, the reality of why they're there dawning back.

"How are you feeling now about the baby?"

"I don't know, man," Bucky shakes his head, "I'm afraid I'm going to screw this up, like everything else."

"But now you're working on that," Steve reminds him, "And you're not going to be doing this alone. You have people who are always going to be there. I may be in California now, but I'm just a phone call away. You're not alone. But you do have to try Buck. That's all that you can ever do. Try your best, no one's asking you to be perfect, but as long as you're trying your best, that's what's important."

Age: 21 Year: 2015

The sounds of a baby crying woke Bucky up from his sleep in the early depths of the morning. He quietly and quickly got out of bed, making his way to the small New York kitchen to make a bottle.

He walked into the small nursery where the two-month-old baby wailed from hunger.

"It's okay," Bucky shushed gently, picking up the small baby, "Daddy's here."

He adjusted the small baby in his arms before placing the bottle in the baby's mouth.

"There you go," he encouraged the small one, as soon as he heard the sounds of the baby drinking.

Bucky sat down on the chair in the corner of the room, opposite of the crib. He just stared as the newborn drank their bottle, while simultaneously falling asleep. Even though he was completely exhausted, he had never felt more happier. More at peace with where his life was at.

As long as he kept trying his best, he knows he can do this for the rest of his life.

[smutty-ki113r]

I woke up to my alarm tellin me to get out of bed and so naturally I checked your tumblr and I'm,,, concerned

There's a small anon war over what hoodie smells like and I have no sense of smell whatsoever so I'm not contributin, but, leafs.

Petition to change the plural of leaf to leafs instead of leaves. Leaves is an ugly ass word. Leafs just rolls of the tongue, its nicer, its what the people want

Also the same with sheep like what, why is the plural the same, I refer to them as sheeps cuz it makes me happy

Also I don't like the y/n either because "y/n" is usually a whole ass person all in itself. And they're usually a girl in most fanfic, along with the fact that they are the Mariest Sue That Ever Mary Sue'd.

I've been considerin why LJ is my favourite and I think it's purely because if any of the more sane (Masky, Toby, Slenderman, etc) took one fuckin GLANCE they would run away. I have hope that clown boy is too far gone to care about my mental state too much.

If you squint real hard my braincell count looks like a normal amount

I'm so exhausted I'm gonna talk to you, my favourite online human, because the blue light from my phone keeps me awake.

But I think my favourite dynamic ever is Rivals to Lovers™. Not enemies to lovers, cuz enemies have two different goals in mind; whereas rivals compete for the same thing.

I'm a sucker for medieval shit so,, a scene that's been annoying me all day is~

you're invited to a Royal Ball (because isn't that how all romances start these days, just roll with it brother) and you go, finding out it's a masquerade ball. You get there, you dance, being passed from person to person in a never ending loop of jewel-embeded skirts that were swept across the marble floor of the (obscenely) bedazzled castle, and suits that seemed more expensive than you were.

Regret never came because the wine chased it away; it flowed in waterfalls into your glass, the scent of it filling the room but not enough to drown out the everlasting smell of expensive perfume. Sometimes the odor of it clung to the women of the ball tighter than their corsets. The massive drapes were pulled back, latching to the wall in attempt to keep them from falling and blocking the view–of which captured your gaze immediately. The doors were swung open to let the air in, and ensuring that no glass got in the way of what lay beyond; the moon, full and impossibly heavy hung, stranded in the crisp night air. The moon was the only one that didn't judge the events that took place in the ballroom that night, the only thing watching the crowd of people with a pure, impassive gaze.

Because later that night, after multiple drinks had been passed around and a cacophony of laughter, dancing, and food had been consumed–after many glasses of wine had passed your lips and your body– of which was feeling tingly and impishly confident–had wandered to a far corner, darkened by the domed ceiling, seemingly on its own accord. In that moment you would give everything to stay in the Palace, to twirl until your feet blistered and you withered away into old gnarled bones and ashes that could still dance with the wind.

"I do hope that you know well what you wish for; not for clarity of the concept, my dear, but for clarity of consequence." The voice that spoke in your ear was deep, low, and held even darker undertones. It siezed your attention and captured it in both hands, strangling the curiosity out of you. It had come from your right, even further into the pitch-black corner, but as soon as you moved all the thoughts in your head sloshed about, banging against the interior of your head. It was either equivelant to that or a sledge hammer, one of the two. The wine was probably just twisting the voice's around you, making them appear. You tried to convince yourself but alas, even you deemed it vastly unlikely.

Turning around was more difficult then you planned. Just when you thought you would see the owner of the voice, nobody was there. Yep, probably just the abundance of alcohol making you dizzy.

Shifting back to dancing wasn't hard; it was as if you were floating down along a stream, merely following wherever the river took you. Voices pressed against you on all sides, soon becoming a background noise too, a faint buzzing sound. It rose and fell like the waves, ever-changing in volume.

You started to lose a grip on reality; eyes fluttering closed as you danced, just taking a breath of air, letting the delicate night wash away your worries, who you wer–

What the fuck!?

You did a double take, eyes now wide fucking open, because outside you spied someone that had to be atleast a foot taller than anyone else in the ball. The darkness seemed to congregate behind it, flourishing, and the only thing you could see was a wide smile and a pair of eyes.

It seemed that you couldn't get enough air into your lungs, couldn't focus; the voice's that used to be hazy surround sound was now piercingly loud the people were just too much, everywhere at once. Your breathing only picked up even more as you gripped your chest.

The.. Demon had disappeared by the time you glanced upward, you you scurried outside, barely making it before you collapsed on a golden railing. There were fine drops of rain scattered about, eluding to the fact it had rained earlier. Your masquerade costume was getting wet, leaning against the railing, but you were so dizzy you didn't care.

It was the wine, it had to be. Nobody could be that tall, it–it was humanly impossible. Moving was now akin to attempting to romp through thick syrup; a stagnant pace, uncoordinated, unsteady. Then it stopped. There was a hand on your shoulder.

You skimmed the person; they had a dark blue suit that sparkled with the occasional gold highlights, with a blue mask covering their face–it seemed that it covered all of their face, and didn't quite match what a masquarade mask should look like, but you didn't care. The support was welcomed.

"You seemed as if you required help, my Lady," He said, his voice deep and low, so much so that you questioned if you would even be able to hear him over the music blaring in the ballroom if the two of you were to venture back inside.

You looked back to where you saw the tall being, with its eyes and smile that seemed wrong, and wrong in a terrible, dangerous way.

"Care to dance with me?" You asked, relieved when he slipped his arm with yours and led you inside. The music had slowed to a waltz, nothing like the big parade of dancers that came in flurries of colour and left just as fast. His arms were solid and a comfort, welcome as the breeze on a sunny day. It felt like he protected you from everything that might have caught you off guard, in a way. Plus, he kept you from falling flat on my face, which is always a good thing.

The song changed and you were about to ask him for something else; his name, maybe, but fate had other plans. Both of you were bumped and somebody else had picked you up in their arms, hands landing on your waist as the dance consumed you. Your mystery man in blue was gone, it seemed, and you sighed. Being safe was a hard thing to ask. Instead, above you now was a man dressed in dark browns and yellows– he had a rather strange mask that curled around his mouth and eyes, leaving the centre free. His brown locks looked ruffled and messy and he jerked every once in a while, moving sporadically. It didn't stop and he didn't seem to be able to control it so you didn't mind. The slight jolts emitting from him caused you to wake up more, which was always welcome.

"Are you okay?" You asked, after his gaze had wandered elsewhere. It came back to you in a heartbeat, and you sensed be was smiling under the mask.

He twirled you, spinning you gracefully. "Of course I am," he said, coming in close again. "For now, I'm winning."

The night surged on quickly and you found yourself caught between multiple strangle figures; a woman with silky black hair and a mask that made her eyes appear the same colour, that offered you a drink that wasn't wine. A man that had offered you wine, that stood next to the big buffet table with a full glass and a white mask. He had stood with a black-masked man, but he weaved through the crowd until he was another string in a pile of wool. Your blue mystery man made another appearance, but not with you–he was talking in low tones with another man (you didn't mind that they were mostly men; seemingly just because it never occurred to you that they might be connected) who had black hair, like the other woman, and pale white skin. The palest you'd seen in a long time. However, at that moment, he had looked up and seen you staring, only for you to catch scars at the ends of his mouth. You crossed it down to makeup or a deformity of some kind. Through all this, you were atleast grateful you didn't see the tall being again.

And everything carried on. Until it didn't. Blood stained the carpet black and the screams were too loud to ever fade away, seeming to shake the walls. You had tried to run from it, from them, but you tripled in a hallway and couldn't even get up because of your many glasses of alcohol. Struggling was futile and someone easily pulled you back.

With horror you realised it was one of the men from before; you recognised the scruffy brown hair and occasional movements. He held you there, between life and death a moment more, a moment where all the men you'd seen that night, and the woman, came around the corner. Their voices were distorted to your damaged ears but your eyes focused on the tall being; he was real, and black and white, with hands that weren't normal and a nose that was even less so. They're all abnormal, your consciousness whispered to you, and you believed it. The man on top of you grinned, happy that he had caught you. Your stomach turned.

"Bring them to the Mansion," a voice ring out in your head. Your 'companions' seemed to hear it too. "And bring them alive."

As you can see I've never written anythin in my life so this is shit lmfao but I don't care an im just here to brainstorm anyways

Have my little scene, take it, because it was fun to do. It's not spellchecked, I've not read through it, because I can't be bothered, so if anythin is wrong laugh and move on brother. Also tryin to write without cuttin off the g from my words and shortenin them was so hard so halfway through I didn't bother lmao

I think this is my longest message yet so, sorry about that Red

Cheers if you actually made it this far.

–Kieran.

I agree. Leafs is better. SHEEPS- thats the cutest thing I’ve ever heard and I love it.

Y/n is a stereotype in itself so I agree, it’s usually ya know, the whole “im different” kind of chick who can do everything and anything (basically bella from twilight), when in reality the reader is human and humans have imperfections. Lots of ‘m …LJ is my fav for a lot of reasons, at this point he’s a comfort to me. Plus, I (oml) relate to him so much, and I can do a post about this- if someone cares or asks. And I have similar traumaaa

Oh geez, I’m your favorite online human, AGH my heart, again, its burning. I agree, RIVALS TO LOVERS SOUNDS SO SOSOSOOSO GOOD I LOVE IT. (I would say my fav trope is “lovers who ache to be together but due to circumstance one starts to lose feeling for the other and it’s an agonizing pain to the other” or maybe that’s just me because I find completion in sadness, which is horrific. But I really itch to angst.)

Here’s me reading your scene and also talking about it at the same time. ‘Regret never came because the wine chased it away’…that’s a good line, thats a good line. The way you just take one thing and mash it with another aspect like wow. Like as each idea were droplets of water on a leafs and you happen to tilt it, connecting them so effortlessly. I’m jealous. The descriptions are amazing, and how you make it the reader’s thought process-damn. I WANNA WRITE THIS GOOD, YALL OUTSHINE ME. And then you say this was shit. *slaps you* DONT YOU DARE UNDESESTIMATE YOURSELF MISTER

Also the way you just subconsciously cut off the g’s is spectacular. I try to, but it’s hard for me. SORRY? SORRY?! Nononono thank you, because the longer the message the better. Apart from the fact that long messages make me happy, especially from you, it means you put time into talking to me! Which makes me super happy too. Heheheh. Thank you love! This made my morning, along with that drawing submission from cam anon, you should check it out! It’s really good.

[mbti-notes]

Would you mind explaining why you see Rey as ESFJ and Kylo Ren as INTP from the new Star Wars? I've always seen Rey as a stereotypical ISFP action hero (quick to adapt to new situations, hands on, a fierce sense of 'moral right' borne of self), and I'm undecided on Kylo, but thought he exhibited FP tendencies -- a struggle between self-identity and rationality, that indicates a F/T imbalance.

[con’t: In reading Leonore Thomson’s book on personalities, the Fi-dom section brought Kylo to mind – unless prone to developing Se/Ne, the IFP fiercely guards their sense of ‘identity’ / self against outside influences and becomes rigid. Isn’t that what he’s doing, in differentiating himself from his parents and refusing to see reality any other way than what he has decided it is, based on his feelings / experiences?]

Judging by the debates I saw online, there doesn’t seem to be any general consensus on either character, which is interesting. It’s a trilogy and the character development beats are scattered and difficult to piece together. And there were several blanks that I had to fill with my own speculation. I didn’t really enjoy the process of typing these characters, but I did it because I kept on receiving requests week after week ever since the first movie came out. I found the character development arcs shallow and poorly paced, and the resolutions were too pat to be very interesting. I reviewed the Kylo and Rey scenes several times, with different personality types in focus each time, in order to ensure that the function pieces fit together to my satisfaction.

      ***** Major spoilers ahead! ******

Kylo

Although I think there are weak points in her book, I don’t take issue with Thomson’s description of Fi doms. I mainly disagree with the motive that you ascribe to Kylo. I don’t think he’s being protective of his identity, I don’t think he cares about identity, in the way that Fi doms do. I will concede that he gives the impression of being a rebellious teenager in defying his parents/mentor/birthright, but defiance alone does not make him Fi dom. Pretty much everyone (even some animal species) goes through a stupid teenage phase of rebellion at some point in their life, and some people never properly get past it. To me, he looks like a stuck-in-adolescence INTP: entirely too full of himself and blind to everything else.

One little point made it difficult for me to settle on a type. Leia was absolutely convinced that Kylo was “manipulated” by Snoke/Palpatine to join the dark side, but there was little indication from Kylo, Luke, and Han that this was actually the case. Should we trust Leia, since the movie portrayed her as being much more powerful than meets the eye, or should we trust Kylo’s subjective experience of himself as being fully and completely the master of his own fate? I go for the latter. If anyone’s going to be prone to blind belief, it’s a mom who doesn’t want to admit that she’s lost her son to her enemies. And I see no compelling evidence that he is a person who’s easily manipulated, emotionally or otherwise, which is a big strike against F. If you see such evidence, please present it.

The most revealing aspect of Kylo’s development was found in the conflicting and exaggerated accounts about what happened with Luke that led to the destruction of the Jedi academy. If you grow up being fed a constant diet of legends about galactic warfare from the Alliance, you’re naturally going to think of the Jedi as the good guys and the Empire as the bad guys (as we, the audience, are supposed to). However, if you’re Ben Solo, you don’t experience the Jedi as good guys, at all. He was “abandoned” by parents who were too busy/neglectful/high-minded to properly care for him and he was “abandoned” by a supposedly saintly mentor/uncle who wanted to kill him (even if the urge was fleeting). Additionally, Jedi training is essentially martial arts training in that you’re not supposed to use it violently unless you absolutely have to, which leaves the Jedi looking like total wusses much of the time, politically, always leading from behind and allowing evil to get a foothold over and over again.

Therefore, my theory is that Kylo turned, completely willingly, because he saw nothing but pathetic posturing and hypocrisy around him. It was an extremely deep cynicism (the belief that “good”, “love”, “happiness”, or anything that makes humans noble, don’t really exist) that allowed him to fully embrace his own darkness to very powerful effect - no manipulation necessary. This wouldn’t work with Fi-Te but fits with Ti-Fe. I postulate that his conception of morality was extremely reductive and childish. Essentially, “good guys should be totally free of bad”, so any whiff of anyone feeling conflicted or making dumb choices and they no longer get the privilege of being labeled as a “good” person. Accordingly, any hint of conflict in himself cements the fact that he is bad, irredeemably bad, because he’s full of conflict. 

But I argue that the reason he’s full of conflict is not because he’s bad or a Feeler, it’s because the way he was being taught was not well-suited to his personality at all, in fact, it was quite damaging to him, which pushed him into skepticism and alienation. Here’s the blank I’m filling in: Luke is Fi dom. Fi and Ti do not communicate easily. Being forced or shamed into being good with no proper reasoning process by Fs tends to really aggravate inferior Fe grip problems in young Ti doms (it’s a common relationship dynamic). Fi doms construct beliefs from their feelings and it’s easy for them to expect that everyone should feel-believe the same. How is a person supposed to react when you keep telling them to Fi everything but they simply can’t or have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about? External manipulation or not, I speculate that Kylo was already in a deep state of doubt about whether he was in the right place. Luke’s intense fear and disgust in that fateful moment only confirmed Kylo’s suspicions that he didn’t belong there, and that Luke was no “good” guy. 

Seeing oneself as irredeemably bad is a big blow to the ego, so one must engage in self-defense. The fact that turning dark allowed him to realize the full potential of his force capabilities, to him, meant that the Jedi were completely wrong in their conception of what is “good”. Therefore, he doesn’t consider himself to be bad per se, rather, he believes that he has discovered the truth about what it means to be great - being great via T is better than being good via F. He was trying to discover his true self through dominant Ti, perfectly normal part of development, but he chose the wrong path, because it was a reactionary decision that was merely rebelling against all the people who were trying to force him into being F. This poor choice meant that he had to keep trying to sever his connection to everything good in himself = disowning F. In his mind, the Jedi were stupid, weak, and deluding themselves all along, but he knows what’s up, and that granted him a high degree of confidence in his decisions. He saw himself as the real deal because he was smart enough and strong enough to be brutally honest about what he is. In essence, he’s no faker, and that makes him superior. These mental gymnastics happen with Ti, not Fi. 

When Fi doms (even just start to) see themselves as bad, it ruins them and renders them impotent and dysfunctional (see previous post about Zuko from Avatar: The Last Airbender as a great example). Yet I see no compelling evidence that Kylo’s identity, feelings, or conflicts held him back, rather, they only served to fuel his rise. Despite appearances, he didn’t lust for power and validation like Te loop/grip, rather, he was only interested in self-mastery, and was willing to do whatever it took to achieve it, because he had no other ideal outside of himself to believe in. Nothing could really stop him unless he decided to stop. When he was frustrated, he would let it out in a quick burst, and then continued on as though it never happened (Fe). He was actually very disciplined in growing his abilities by setting consistent and logical challenges for himself to overcome (Ti), and he always succeeded in achieving his goals and reaching whatever potential he had envisioned for himself (Ne). Furthermore, someone who is very “defensive of their identity” wouldn’t be able to change themselves on a dime, as he did at the end. When faced with the right counter-evidence, he did a whiplash 180 without hemming or hawing or performative self-flagellation or whining about “losing myself”, etc. Would that be possible for Fi-Te?

Rey

Is she introverted? She is unapologetically assertive, she gets involved even when it doesn’t/shouldn’t involve her, she never balks at interacting with people/objects, she always faces situations immediately, she has trouble holding her tongue, she has difficulty introspecting (as evidenced from Luke’s training sessions), and most importantly, she exhibits no sign of needing a lot of down time to recharge. I’ve never known an introvert like that, let alone an ISFP, as they often dwell in their feelings away from the world and dislike taking on too much responsibility due to inferior Te. If she’s introverted, provide me with evidence, since I seem to have missed it.

I don’t think that there’s any evidence of N. She’s resourceful to a certain extent, but she seems to rely very heavily on other people to generate positive ideas and possibilities for reassurance, because she starts to panic when thinking on her own about “what could happen” (low Ne). She doesn’t easily come to intuitive insights about anything, let alone the future (no Ni). One scene in particular made me LOL. Luke was training her and asked her to close her eyes to meditate. He instructed her to “reach out” (to feel the energy of the force), and she extended her hand out physically into the air. That is the exemplar of being too literal. Furthermore, she spent how many freakin’ years following the same set routine day after day, in the same crap dump of a town, waiting obediently for her parents to pick her up? That’s the exemplar of Si discipline. Would SPs be capable of that patience or living in the dreary past for so long? 

I agree that she is primarily motivated by her feelings when making judgments and decisions, which means F. She had to fend for herself since childhood, so her skills are unsurprising. Yet she irrationally lacks self-confidence despite the fact that she’s proven over and over again to be quite scrappy and capable, and people even tell her as much all the time - this is likely to indicate an inferior T insecurity. She has great difficulty (i.e. is unconsciously resistant to) probing around within herself, which is common for inferior Ti in not wanting to feel one’s own darkness. The fact that introspection results in her discovering that her deepest, darkest fear is being completely and utterly “alone” as a “nothing” in “nothingness” is very compelling evidence for inferior Ti.

If inferior Ti, then dominant Fe is a must. I see lots of evidence. She is inexplicably able to communicate with anyone, of any species of bot or animal, with effortless empathic understanding? Her first stance is to give people the benefit of the doubt, no matter how strange or wayward they seem. She has a very naive trust in the goodness of people despite dealing with crooks all the time. She takes it upon herself to bring out the good in people whenever she is in a position to. I don’t think she’s always sure of her feelings (Fi-Ni), rather, she’s always sure that there is goodness to be found if one only looks hard enough (Fe-Ne). A lot of people have strong moral feelings and values, so I’m a bit tired of the lazy stereotype that Fi doms have the monopoly on morality. If you’re going to reference a person’s morality, go deeper to see what exactly it is they believe, how they came to those beliefs, and how they express those beliefs in detail, as that would be more revealing of their functions.

For such a goody-goody-two-shoes, her response to Kylo wasn’t the judgmental disgust that Luke barfed up (Fi-Te) but rather a scary desire to figure him out (Fe-Ti). She seemed quite UNcertain about her personal feelings about him (not Fi), which made their relationship one-sided for quite some time, as she struggled with the push-pull dynamic. ESFJs are often attracted to “dark and mysterious” people due to the unconscious yearnings of inferior Ti, even when Si-Ne warns them that these people are bad news. And it doesn’t get more mysterious than some powerful dude dressed in black donning a mask that shows up in random visions. When avoiding him was no longer possible, she made an admirable effort to dive deeper into his perspective, even when she rightfully feared losing herself in the process. She felt compelled to “get both sides of the story” in typical diplomat fashion before deciding what to do, in hopes of “fixing” Kylo through repairing his relationship with Luke.

Although there seemed to be constant teasing about the possibility of Rey turning dark, I never really saw any possibility. She gave no major indication of being afraid of turning, and it seemed that she never lost touch with her strong desire to be good. She only ever indicated a fear of failing to perform her duty capably (Si) and of failing all the people who were relying upon her powers to succeed (Fe). Discovering her true lineage didn’t really shake her because her parents were good in spite of their bloodline, so there was already an “exception to the rule” for her to follow and emulate. Turning dark would sever and betray her emotional connection to her parents - totally out of the question.

As far as I can tell, the only reason she survived her horrible childhood relatively unscathed was because she held on to the belief that her parents loved her enough to come back, i.e., emotional connection to others is her lifeline. I don’t think it’s an accident that, in her moment of greatest need, it was the connection to past Jedi and their encouragement that saved her butt. She was existentially SHOOK when Kylo claimed that her parents were horrible and abandoned her. And she was only able to find her footing again by inserting herself (i.e. “belonging” to) the Skywalker clan, essentially by being the model of a kid that Ben should’ve been. What self-respecting ISFP would be happy latching on to someone else’s mom, riding someone else’s coattails, and literally defining their identity through someone else’s name and legacy? 

I’ve heard some people critique Rey as a flat mary sue character, and I see where they’re coming from. But which type is most likely to resemble a mary sue at first glance? She is supposed to be the hero in a fairy tale after all, so one would expect her flawedness to be minimized.

Relationship Dynamics

In the final movie, the audience is bludgeoned over and over again with the claim that Kylo and Rey are meant to be a dyad. This all but guarantees that they will be exact functional opposites, otherwise, there would be no strong sense of complementary forces pulling them together into one perfectly harmonized and united front. Although the chemistry between them wasn’t properly developed IMO, I think I saw on paper what was meant to be happening in terms of the writer’s intentions.

Luke was unsuited to helping either of them with questions of identity and morality because, being Fi dom, he took these things for granted, presumptive, already settled non-issues, which amounts to him being closed to any real questioning and discussion. As a result of lacking good guidance, what drew Kylo and Rey together was an underlying need to help each other make sense of themselves, with the unconscious suspicion that the other person held the missing piece of the puzzle. 

Rey was only able to reach her potential by confronting the full extent of her own darkness within (inferior Ti), which was what Kylo forced her to do in incremental steps, as he kept nudging her to question her fundamental beliefs about who she is and what she stands for, presumably in the same way that he had done for himself. But it’s not as easy to twist someone’s sense of morality when F is at the top and healthy versus the bottom of the stack. By making it through his gauntlet of tests and critiques and facing down her fears, she was able to develop into a stronger and more self-assured person to eventually achieve inferior Ti closure. Don’t forget how her eyes would light up when hearing stories of Jedi masters and their achievements. It is mainly EJs who run headfirst toward responsibility rather than away from it. We see, in the end, a picture of Rey as a beaming, confident, and self-possessed person who feels like the world is her oyster, fully inhabiting her role in the hero story that she had always wished to be a part of. The audience is meant to believe that she’s the rightful heir when she finally believes in herself.

By questioning Rey’s identity, Kylo eventually had to question his own as well, since he was the one who wanted to believe that they shared a similar path to feeling lost. Kylo is stuck in adolescent cynicism as explained above, with Si loop resentment from the past preventing him from seeing other, better possibilities for himself. Late in the trilogy, I see in his face that he’s probably suffering from the sunk cost fallacy of thinking that he is past the point of no return. Perhaps he believes that he has no choice but to resign himself to the fate he has chosen (parallel to Vader) since Ti doms strongly believe in personal responsibility. He’s not wrong. If he wasn’t irredeemable at first, he certainly was after the profound destruction he had wrought. Ti doms are rarely wrong as their logic is usually impeccable, but they tend to lack perspective. E.g. He’s not wrong in believing that people are hypocritical because they really are (Ti factual judgment is spot on), but then he defines his terms too narrowly in dismissing all people as unworthy of being called “good” (Fe value judgment is very immature).

What finally broke the mental confinement of Si loop? IMO, three contributing factors: 1) He started to suffer the same skepticism about the dark side as he had with the Jedi, since Ti promotes impartial judgment, which opened him up somewhat to questioning his choices. INTPs deeply dislike sheep mentality and blind ideology, so being constantly asked to prove his “allegiance” and quietly “submit” all the time by his superiors only served to reveal their flawed mentality in the same vein as Luke, which gave him the logical justification he needed for eliminating one boss after another. 2) He was drawn deeper and deeper into Rey’s psychology, which backfired on him, because it proved to him, again and again, every which way, that goodness is indeed possible, as Rey easily aced every temptation and challenge that he was able to fling at her. For NPs(Ne), believing in possibility can’t help but create a strong desire to actualize it. 3) Leia intervened with what I’m assuming was one last-ditch attempt to communicate how much she truly loves him despite what he’s become, which perhaps served to expand his thinking about what it means to love. 

In the end, he redeemed himself on his own terms (even if he was not fully redeemed for the audience). As a result, he discovered something resembling happiness in his last moments of connection with Rey. You can’t tell a Ti dom to be good “just because”, or take goodness as default without question, or present a fake and idealized image of goodness for them to live up to, because that will never satisfy Ti. At the same time, morality cannot remain an abstract concept or else it is very easy to twist upside down. Goodness must be deeply FELT in order to be a motivating force, and he, at long last, felt goodness in his bones, through his decision to place the greater good above himself - inferior F often means arriving very late to the feeling party. He finally caught a glimpse of what he could be and should be through Rey’s, and possibly his mother’s, eyes, which allowed for inferior Fe closure. He had always gotten by okay without love and only believing and trusting in himself, but he realized that he was far better off for opening himself up to something more. 

That’s my take anyway. Or perhaps that’s what I needed to see to make the story more interesting for myself, lol.

[anaklnky]

𝕓𝕒𝕔𝕜 𝕥𝕠 𝕝𝕚𝕗𝕖 [bucky barnes x stark!reader] alternative end.

⚠️MAJOR ENDGAME SPOILER⚠️

🔗 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: bucky barnes x reader || tony stark x daughter!reader || avengers x reader

📖 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: when tony died, y/n stark resurrects him with her healing powers. but when bucky and tony think the worst of the outcome, maybe it might just be fate.

📣 𝐚/𝐧: so, the people have SpOkeN! they want an alternative ending. so what you want, i shall provide. i hope you enjoy :] also - if you haven't read the first ending, it might help if you do so! another thing is, if you HAVE read the other ending and don't wish to read some of it again, i have left a time stamp from where you can start to read the new ending. :]

⚠️ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: angst... but it's better :"]

"FRIDAY what will happen if i bring dad back?" she ask the AI in a hushed tone.

"it's a risky 50/50 chance miss." FRIDAY ensured. y/n didn't care about risk anymore. her life had been full of risks.

"which 50 is the strongest?" y/n asked, biting her lip. she reached tony and looked down at him.

"dying." FRIDAY replied vaguely. y/n gulped.

"and if i survive?"

"intense care will be needed miss stark." y/n smirked at the fact FRIDAY refused to call her mrs barnes. instead the software called her by her madain name or just miss.

"well, here goes nothing." y/n sniffled. she looked back at bucky and nodded. her attention then went back to her dad. she looked strongly at his body. she could do this. but what would the consequences be. death or survival?

"everybody move!" y/n called. a few people moved back. but bucky stood where he was.

"please. move." she said. the rest of them did. unsure of what she was about to do. but bucky had a good idea of what.

"y/n-" but before he could announce his word of disagreement. y/n had started her work.

blue and white flares fell from her hands and attached themselves to tony's body. the colour from his once pale face, had started to fall through.

y/n's body started to collapse. her hands grew shakey. her swell cheeks had sunk in, leaving her cheekbones bare. y/n's bright eyelids had fallen and left her e/c eyes a dark deathly colour. that's when pain seeped through.

"y/n stop this!" she could hear. she didn't know who spoke, but she heard it clearly. y/n stared further at tony, hoping for him to open his eyes at least.

his body had resurrected. it looked as good as new. the once enflamed right arm, had been repaired and the soft skin was shown. the cuts on his face and neck had been cleansed and had disappeard. leaving no trace of being there.

with one final flick of her fingers, she screamed. she screamed until her dad was alive and well. she screamed for the physical pain she felt. she screamed for love. her love for her dad. her love for the team. and her love for bucky. and with that last push, tony's eyes blinked open fast.

y/n let herself go. she flew back and hit the ground. tony gasped out loud, breaking for air.

pepper shot forward and craddled tony in her arms.

people were releaved to see tony alive. but some were more worried about someone else. y/n.

bucky ran over to y/n. pulling her into his arms.

"y/n, come on doll. come on." he said hushed. her eyelids were closed. bucky was mentally beating himself up.

-> -> -> read from here -> -> ->

bucky brought y/n closer to him and placed his ear upon her chest. listening for a heartbeat.

and there it was. it was faint. but it was there.

bucky sadly smiled to himself. he pushed y/n's hair back and placed a soft kiss on her forehead.

"you're gonna be okay doll." he cooed. knowing full on she couldn't hear him.

that's when tony had sauntered up to his son-in-law and daughter.

tony had never thought he would pluck up the nerve to call bucky his son-in-law. not after germany. but he had learnt to realise that what y/n had told him that day, was indeed true. it wasn't her bucky. it was the winter soldier. it was HYDRA. and tony had realised that when his daughter walked wway that day.

"is she okay?" tony asked. his iron suit was stood up behind them, open from him walking out of it.

"she has a heartbeat," bucky replied, scared. "but it's weak." he sniffed.

tony had tears streaming down his face. but he held composer. his daughter's life was at stake. the last thing he needed was to act out and make a rash idea.

tony looked at bucky and frowned sadly.

"don't worry barnes, she'll be fine." tony sent him a sad smile.

"FRIDAY, set heart stabilzers to charge." tony muttered.

"yes sir." she said.

"you might wanna put her down barnes." tony suggested.

bucky rested y/n on the ground gently. making sure not to hurt her head. he then stood back a little bit. not wanting to be too far from her, if something was to go wrong.

"defribillator ready sir." FRIDAY said.

"go."

with that the defribillators in y/n's leather jacket started up.

a blue light emmerged from the gaps in the zipper of her jacket. a small zip noise was heard. y/n's body was jolted upwards. she then slouched back.

bucky's arms were crossed. his face contoured with worry. tears making their way down his face and soaking into his facial hair.

steve walked up behind bucky and placed his arm on his shoulder.

"she'll be okay buck. she's in safe hands now." steve muttered.

bucky looked back at his best friend and shone a small smile. the smile showed hurt.

"i hope so stevey. i hope so."

bucky's attention was soon grabbed as a loud gasp was heard.

y/n was alive.

tony slumped onto the floor and wrapped his arms around y/n. he then took her body into his lap and craddled her.

y/n coughed and spluttered. eyelids still heavy and soft cheeks; tainted with blood.

tony looked at his daughter and smiled. he brought her head up to his. putting her forehead against his.

"don't you dare try something like that again little miss." tony said sternly.

"jeez dad, you've been alive what? 5 minutes and you're already as ungrateful as yesterday." y/n chuckled, making her wheezd out into a coughing fit.

"and see? that's what you get for scaring your old man." tony sighed, laughing small.

"y/n-" bucky hovered above his wife.

"buck-" she looked up at him. his hair covering his bloodshot eyes.

bucky, too, crashed to the floor. the rubble crunching under his boots.

tony pushed y/n up, so she was sitting up.

"you scared the shit outta me doll." bucky sniffed. y/n smiled. she pushed his fallen hair out his face and behind his ears.

"i'm sorry buck. it won't happen again." y/n replied.

"it better not." tony and bucky said together. the two looked at each other and nodded. agreeing on something for the first time.

bucky rushed into y/n's arms. not letting her go. afraid she would disappear forever. he gripped onto her leather jacket for dear life.

"buck-" y/n coughed out. "too tight babe."

bucky snapped back to reality and let y/n go. in fear of hurting her more.

"sorry," he said. "i'm sor-"

"sshh, you did nothing." y/n shushed him. "i'm just tired and am in a lot of pain."

bucky looked down at his hands and then it hit him. the rings. her rings. they were still in his. after all of that, he still held y/n's wedding bands in his fist.

bucky took y/n's left hand in his.

"i believe these belong to you mrs barnes."

he slide the engagement and wedding band onto her ring finger. the diamond on the engagement band look a little grubby. but nothing that couldn't be cleaned when all was back to normal.

"i believe they do." y/n gleamed at her husband.

she reached up to his collar on his suit and pulled him weakly into her space.

"i love you bucky barnes." y/n said.

"i love you too y/n barnes." bucky replied softly.

bucky then pushed himself forward; placing his lips on hers. his scruff brushing slightly upon her bruised skin. the kiss was short and gentle. but showed just as much love as any other kiss they had shared.

the moment was ruined by tony as he spoke up.

"ahem - i know you two are married and all, but we have a minor here. and he doesn't need to be seeing this." tony sighed.

y/n and bucky shot a look at peter. peter looked back.

"what?" he shrugged.

"nothing kid." tony waved off.

"really dad?" bucky pulled y/n off of the floor and into his side. keeping her from falling to the floor. "we've been married for three years. you're gonna have to get used to the whole thing."

"but i don't need to see you two make out though do i?" tony fired back, smirking.

"really? i should tell you the same." y/n laughed. bucky laughed too at her remark.

"alright little miss, you win this round." tony held his hands up.

"dad, anything to do with bucky; i will always win." she said as she looked up at bucky. he looked down at her, smiling.

"alright that's enough, lets get this together?" tony stated.

"sounds like a plan." y/n replied.

with that, the avengers walked away from the battle against thanos, alive. just one casualty.

but after that day, both bucky and tony had realised how much of an impact little y/n had on their lives. without one, the other wasn't the same.

bucky thought he had lost his wife.

tony thought he had lost his eldest daughter.

and the avengers thought they had lost a part of the family.

but after the battle, tony had learnt to except bucky as family. and treasured him as much as he did y/n. if it wasn't for that one moment where he saw how much love was shared between bucky and y/n, he wouldn't have done any if it.

"you promise you won't hurt my little girl?" tony asked, eyes winced.

bucky smiled at the overprotective father.

"i promise mr stark, i shall love and care for y/n until the day i no longer walk this planet."

tony smiled and shrugged.

"seems like a good enough answer. welcome to the family barnes." tony said, holding his hand out.

bucky too it and shook it, stepping closer to tony and smiling more.

"please, mr stark, it's bucky." bucky said.

"then you better start calling me tony, bucky" tony replied.

and that was the start of a beautiful beginning...

so. it's done! i hope it was all good.

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[captainkippen]

SEND ME FIC PROMPTS

Cyrus and TJ's relationship can be described as ‘almost-something-not-quite-there-yet” and has been at that stage for a rather frustrating six months. He's not sure why it's taking them so long to do about it, but Cyrus is certain that TJ must have also acknowledged the tension between them because there have been a few near misses so far where he's thought 'this is iT, he's going to tell me how it feels’ only for TJ to break off what he was saying and turn it into some unrelated ramble. Thanks to this, it's becoming more and more common for him to feel like he's about to tear his hair out when the two of them spend time together. He doesn't want to push TJ to do or say anything he's not ready to do or say, but Cyrus figures it's time to take matters into his own hands or they might actually be stuck at this glacial pace of romance for the next fifty years. He doesn't think he can take fifty years of longing looks and heartfelt texts that lead to nothing. He'll go insane.

The opportunity to make a move arises when Bex and Bowie finally settle on the date of their wedding. At first there's a little hesitation, the engagement has been called off and called back on more than once now and they're all starting to wonder if they'll actually ever do it, but when it's only about a month away Cyrus figures they're finally safe from any drama and starts concocting a plan.

“I need to book dance lessons,” he says offhandedly when they're all lazing around Buffy's house one day. He's sprawled dramatically across one of the couches with his feet up on TJ's lap and a bowl of popcorn on his chest. It's a movie day but the horror flick they're watching is so terrible that nobody's been paying attention for the last forty five minutes. “For the wedding. There's going to be waltzing, right? I don't know how to waltz. Andi, do you know where Bowie's getting his?”

Andi eyes him suspiciously. She's well aware that Cyrus knows how to waltz. He had taught her to waltz when they were twelve. His mom had made him have lessons as a kid. Cyrus is fantastic at waltzing, even if he does say so himself. However, TJ doesn't know that. He gives her a look that says 'play along I'm begging you've and she sighs.

“At the dance studio on second street, I think,” she says. He's so blessed to have such good friends. “Bex knows one of the girls that runs it so she's giving him a discount.”

“You don't know how to waltz?” TJ asks curiously, perfectly on cue. “Don't you do dance for your P.E classes?”

Cyrus shrugs. “It's not ballroom.”

The thing is, he's concocted the perfect plan. TJ doesn't know Cyrus knows how to waltz, but Cyrus knows that TJ does. TJ had surprised them all with this knowledge a few weeks ago at a school dance. Jonah wanted to impress a girl he liked, TJ offered to show him how to dance and everyone got their happily ever after. Except Cyrus. TJ had not waltzed with Cyrus. He's still a little bitter about it.

“I could teach you,” he offers. “Save you the money.”

“Really?” Cyrus says, grinning. “Awesome. Yeah, that would be great thanks.”

Cyrus mentally marks phase one of mission ‘get TJ to admit his feelings’ a success.

*

TJ comes over on Saturday. Cyrus’ mom and stepdad have gone out to some barbeque with friends and won't be back until later so he's taking advantage of an empty house as much as he can. He makes sure to run to the store in the morning to grab some of TJ's favourite chips and soda (Baja blast Mountain Dew because what else do you expect from a teenage boy), and does a rush job at tidying up even though TJ has definitely seen the house in a much worse state than it is. He's been over during family events - he knows how wild they get. There's an odd nervous sensation thrumming in Cyrus’ veins. He has no reason to be on edge. It's just TJ. He tells himself this over and over, trying to calm down, but still jumps when he heard the front door opening and TJ yelling a greeting through the house. He's been letting himself in since they were fourteen now. It's a standard.

“I'm down here,” he yells back. They're going to be practicing in the basement so he's moved the ping-pong table out the way and set up the stereo so it's ready to go. TJ's socked feet thud down the stairs and he beams at him when he comes into view. He pulls Cyrus into a sideways hug and quickly releases him, making a beeline for the Mountain Dew. Cyrus rolls his eyes - typical.

“So how do you wanna do this?”

Cyrus shrugs. “You're the teacher.”

“You got music?”

He hands him to remote to the stereo. TJ fiddled with it for a moment before switching it on to a rhythmic rock beat with a grin. He puts it down, shrugs off his hoodie and walks towards Cyrus.

“You ready?” He pulls Cyrus towards him, positioning them both carefully.

“We're really just jumping into it, then?”

“Of course. I'm gonna lead and I'm gonna explain the steps as we go, okay? Try not to step on my feet.”

Cyrus does step on his feet, several times, quite deliberately. Each time it sets them both off in a bout of giggling and they have to pause for a moment. The afternoon continues in much the same vein, Cyrus pretending to be terrible and making TJ laugh and feeling like his whole world is complete everytime he catches TJ smiling softly at him. His heart thumps when their faces get close together and he hopes and prays that his palms aren't too sweaty where they're clasped in TJ's. It feels right, the two of them together like this.

There's a moment, when they're coming to the end of a song and slowing down where Cyrus thinks this might be it. TJ might say something. They're looking into one another's eyes, the world around them faded slightly, and he's holding his breath waiting for him to say anything. Then TJ coughs, ducks his head and pulls away, announcing they should take a break and get some lunch, and Cyrus kind of wants to scream in frustration. This plan is going to take longer than he expected.

*

As it turns out, the plans takes much longer than he expected. TJ gives him three more dance lessons before the wedding and nothing comes of them. It's the most irritated Cyrus has ever been with him, which he realises isn't technically fair because TJ isn't a mind reader and can't possibly know Cyrus is losing his grip on reality as a result of all these pent up emotions between them, but he can't help it.

The evening of the wedding is a beautiful one. It's being held in a large white tent in the park which is lit up with beautiful handmade lamps dotted around artfully, illuminating the flowers and chairs that have been set up for the ceremony. In the dark outside, fireflies flicker in and out of existence. The stars above them are almost unusually bright. It seems like there's a certain amount of magic in the air.

Cyrus may or may not cry during the vows. He and TJ sit together, knees pressed up against one another like always, the edges of their hands touching ever so gently stop them. He thinks he might have heard a sniffle or two from TJ as well, but he doesn't comment. TJ is sensitive about those kinds of things. Bex and Bowie are so obviously in love, they both nearly sob during their vows, and for a moment Cyrus envies them with everything he has. He wants that one day. To love somebody so much it consumes him, but it makes him happier and a better person in the process. He thinks about the boy sat next to him and how it feels like he's pretty close to that already.

In typical Mack fashion, they throw a stellar party for the reception. There's a live swing band and a lot of loud laughter. Champagne flows freely and a disco ball that he suspects was Andi's idea glitters above the makeshift dance floor. Cyrus watches in amusement as the guests get drinker, the dancing gets worse and the jokes get dirtier. Everyone's having such a good time. When the first waltz comes on, he catches TJ's eyes across the room.

It seems like time stops as he walks towards him. TJ meets him in the middle with a wide smile and pulls them both on to the dance floor, taking Cyrus’ hand and placing his own on his waist. Cyrus forgets all about pretending to be terrible but TJ doesn't seem surprised in the slightest.

“I knew you were faking,” he laughs.

“I don't know what you're talking about,” Cyrus says, but he can't hold back his own smile. “... How'd you figure it out?”

He rolls his eyes. “I know you better than anyone, Cy. You're my best friend. You think I don't know you can dance? Your mom's shown me the pictures of your ballroom classes before. I'm not totally stupid.”

Cyrus prevents himself from saying 'that's debatable’ but it's a close call. TJ seems to read his mind and laughs anyway.

“I don't get why you needed to pretend, though,” he says. “You don't need to come up with excuses to hang out with me. You could tell me we're going to go sit in a field in silence for four hours and I'd still come because you'd be there.”

Cyrus sighs. “I know… it's just. I don't know. It's stupid, never mind.”

“No, what is it? Tell me.”

“I think…” he takes a deep breath. “You say you're my best friend, and that's true, but I also think you're more than that. And you have been for a really long time.”

TJ just keeps looking at him, saying nothing. Cyrus continues.

“Maybe it's just me that feels that way… but I don't think it is. I was hoping maybe if we got some one on one time doing something romantic maybe… maybe you'd say something?”.

“You pretended you couldn't dance because you wanted me to admit I have feelings for you?”

“Yes.”

“Well, obviously I do. Even Jonah knows that. Why didn't you just ask?”

Cyrus gapes at him. He can't believe it was that easy. TJ hadn't even hesitated to admit it. “... I didn't think of that.”

“You know, for the smartest guy I've ever met, you're kind of dumb,” TJ says with a fond look. “You could've told me how you felt too.”

“Oh… hush,” Cyrus says. “Stop smirking it's not funny.”

“It's pretty funny,” TJ grins. Cyrus pushes himself up on to his tiptoes to reach him, and just to wipe the amused smile from his face he presses a gentle kiss to his lips.

TJ makes him want to tear his hair out sometimes, but it's in the best way possible.

[axupodz]

30 Amazing Questions Only A Genius Could Answer.

( insert obvious clickbait thumbnail)

As requested by @judyxd26

THIS IS OBVIOUSLY MY OWN OPINION. DONT @ ME

JUST MONIKA (I see you there)

Probably Yuri. The Shy/Yandere anime trope has been used a little too much recently.

Has to be "Your Reality". I gives me the feels everytime. EVERYTIME.

"Sayo-nara" gotta be my least fav. Not because its bad or anything. It just gives me scary flashbacks of Sayori. TOO SPOOPY FOR ME.

Most afraid? Hmm, if ur talking about the jumpscares, I would say Natsuki when she snaps her neck. (DID I SAY THERE'S SPOILERS HERE?)

I would say Monika. I always try too hard for attention :3

Look most familiar?? First of all, im a dude. *LOOKING AT MALE VER DDLC CAST* ok, its either Sayori or Monika. Can't decide tbh.

I used my first name BOI. GOTTA HAVE THE FULL IMMERSION.

10/10. Despite the warnings everytime you open the game and at the game page, I never took it to consideration. Sayori's death really took me by surprise.

Sayori maybe? MC's texts during that part was deep. If deleting Monika is considered a death, I would say thats the most saddest one. Monika realised the mistakes she made and she regretted them. But it was too late as she was slowly getting deleted. On a side note: I didnt delete her in the end, her conversations were very interesting. My sister forced me to delete her tho :/

(Lets keep the next few questions short, Im trying to get some sleep 😪) Sayori: I like that she's optimistic. But she's too sensitive i'd say.

Short girls are cute. Manga IS literature. DONE.

I like that she's shy and all but im not very fond of the idea of playing with knifes. DONE.

SHE IS BEST GIRL. SHE IS THE ONLY CHARACTER THAT FEELS REAL. SHE DESERVES A ROUTE. SHE IS A GODDESS SEND FROM THE HEAVENS. SHE THICC BOI, FIGHT ME. (I should have been a little more serious😅 There is more reasons at Question 29.)

Monika's poem. DONE.

NOPE, IM A HYPROCRITE. TRIED ONCE, FAILED BADLY.

I would if I COULD ACTUALLY FINISH READING MY BOOKS FOR ONCE. *glares at the full collection of Harry Potter at the corner of the room*

Pretty often. Not enough to fix my spelling tho.

Once. The English Club at school. Pretty boring.

Like I said before, im a dude. Soo yea, MC is my only option.

Yuri. For obvious reasons.

There isnt a character that I "want" to be a guy but i'd say Sayori looks fine as both genders.

I havent seen any fanart of Monika as an animal yet. So, Monika then.

If Monika had a route I would totally pick that one. Since she doesnt, i would pick Natsuki's.

Probably Stephen King

They did such an amazing indie game last year. Can't wait for the next one.

Yuri i guess. My yandere mode becomes active sometimes :3

Actually I have. Not the best experience.

(Skip this one if you want to. It's veryyy long.WARNING, It's about to get serious) I actually sat through a good 50+ minutes talking with Monika.In that time, she tells me how every time I quit the game, she feels like she's "dying", and enters a "living Hell" full of static screaming, flashing and darkness, and despite the fact that she feels as if her mind is disjointed in this space, she's still aware enough to remember it all every time we come back. There's also the fact she's fully aware all of her "friends" are simply mindless programs lacking free-will whose sole purpose in existence is falling in love with the player.I quit and loaded up the game a few times, and she asks you multiple times to please not put her through that torment, but eventually just says she'll have to relent that you can't always have the game open.Then I kept going, and got Sayori to tell me how she's super appreciative that I took the time to get to know them all and help them with their problems (however little I actually did), and that they all loved me. Credits are rolling, and I notice that the CG's aren't being deleted, until the very ending where the entirety of the Main Menu is deleted.I fucking broke Monika's heart and she subjected herself to living in an eternal near-death hellish blackness, and still the last thing she does for me is sing me a song about how much she loves me and wishes I'd been able to love her back. Deleting her causes her pain, but she was still conscious of everything and in control of the game files. Quitting puts her in a near-death state filled with suffering.I know it's only an AR game and none of it's real, but I'm literally sitting here with tears in my eyes because no matter what you do, Monika is doomed to an existence of agony, and the last thing she believes is that we probably hated her.I can't handle that shit, man, I didn't need to know. Couldn't you even let us believe there was some solace?

The game broke me psychologically and left me traumatized for 3 days.Sayori's arc made me feel sick to my stomach and sad, Yuri's arc scared me, and Monika's arc broke my heart and made me sad again.What part of psychology makes depressing horror enjoyable? Why did I love and enjoy a game that hurts? Maybe because the characters are so real and I've grown attached to them? I don't know. Either way I love DDLC, the community, and the fan content, but I don't know why. I guess it's because the main grip of the game is the 4 girls themselves, you grow so attached to them that it feels like your losing close friends. Making characters in any video game likable is hard but this game is an example of it done right, adding along with the story makes DDLC truly an experience.( finally, im done. I need a rest rn before I have a mental breakdown)

[thepunchingbag]

One of my favorite little things about the Jedi is that they reject (well, normally) perfectly good potential trainees who are too old. But there is literally no practical reason to reject people based on age (we've seen plenty of stories where adult trainees become powerful Jedi, and I'm not just talking about Luke)... besides the fact they will be less susceptible to indoctrination and probably have some life experience outside the Order.

I actually think the Dragon Age circles did a HORRIBLE job at controlling their mages by comparison to the Jedi Order. The average mage might have mixed feelings, I'd say the average Jedi would defend the Order with their dying breath. Like, most Jedi are completely ride or die for the Order. The mage circles are prisons, while the Order is something between a transcendental cult and a religious movement. The Order seems to have a pretty tight grip on the minds of their Jedi - they don't outright abuse or control, but they warp their people's worldview so much that they are basically enslaved mentally to the ideals of the Order. There are plenty of "soft threats" (like, if you don't pass we will send you to work in the fields... you can enjoy life in ways you can't as a Jedi, but you'll also do backbreaking work and will have lost your one chance to be an incredibly powerful, enlightened demigod. No pressure, of course).

Having said that, I think some of the more stubborn trainees would almost WANT to be chucked out of the Order, because at least they'll have something resembling a life. I'm sure there's a weird Jedi-reject farmland subculture in these areas too - they might not be Jedi, but they don't see themselves as "normal" either. It wouldn't surprise me if these communities follow Jedi religious teachings, except they can't use the Force and they can have relationships. There'd be mixed feelings for sure but I think in some ways, even as a reject from the Jedi, you're always going to be a little different from other people.

It would be like living in a state of limbo. You're not a Jedi or a Sith, but you're not like everyone else either. I'm sure some people would prefer the sense of belonging they'd get in the Jedi. But now I'm imagining some Jedi reject families training their kids how to purposefully fail their training LOL "Just keep asking uncomfortable questions and pretend to be upset over everything. Keep saying how much you miss your mom and dad. Then pick your nose during meditations. Works every time. Anyway, see you again in two weeks, little Jimmy!"

But I think most trainees do want to become Jedi. Because there has been this whole godlike mythos established surrounding Jedi in the Republic.

It takes a lot to break the brainwashing. And even if you do break free, your frame of reference for that "freedom" is the SITH. You probably think you are beyond saving, so why not go completely off the deep end? Also I do think the Force kind of fucks with people's minds - it's probably akin to the most violent or the most beautiful high you've ever experienced in your life.

I think the reason why the Order keeps a close eye on their Jedi is that (like Revan, the Exile, Luke, Anakin, etc) the Jedi ideals are difficult to justify when you come into contact with reality. I personally think it was rare for Jedi to see as much conflict as Obi and Anakin. It's partly why the Jedi wanted to stay neutral during the Mando Wars. PTSD for Jedi is a whole other level of hell.

At the same time, I think there's no easy way around the fact Jedi and Sith are both incredibly powerful, and yet they are human at the same time. Hormones make you do stupid shit, even without the Force. And when you get attached to your child, your loyalty to the Order WILL take a backseat. And when you have an enemy like the Sith waiting to rip you and your entire society apart at the first sign of weakness, it can seem justified to sacrifice this aspect of yourself when you don't know any alternatives. I'm sure most Jedi see it as selfish to think otherwise.

As much as I find the Jedi restriction on relationships prohibitive, I kind of think that the Sith are a predictable example of what happens when you allow nearly-superhuman Space Wizards to reproduce and keep their kids. Let's be real, when that kind of power is hereditary- you get dynasties. You get family bloodlines so thick with power that it ends up being a death sentence if you dare piss them off. You get a very segregated society where the Force sensitives are on top screwing over all those poor sons of bitches who can't levitate a pencil with their mind. You get the Sith Empire.

It's one of those things where I disagree with the Jedi, but I can't really shake the feeling that they kind of have a point.