#sorry turning off reblogs because ironically and as always too many people with no reading comprehension keep reblogging

[gowns]

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Anyone under the age of THIRTY?!?!?! 30???? Must show photo ID to enter the library? Or be accompanied by your parent or legal guardian who must sign an affidavit every time you come to the library?!

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HOME // Bucky Barnes

Request: Could you do a Bucky Barnes imagine where he blips but the reader is pregnant so when he comes back he meets their daughter? If not that’s totally understandable and I hope you have an amazing day/night 💕

A/N: Look, I love writing angsty Bucky. But I also love writing happy Bucky. Hope y’all love reading this ♥  Likes, reblogs, comments are all much appreciated.

Join my taglist here! [additional note: I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please.]

Thanos being defeated was not the end of it all. It seemed like it. The grand heroic solution to all problems. The ultimate test before things got better. Before they got easier.

That was a lie.

Bucky looks across the vast area of the Stark’s estate as people, all dressed in black, mourn the loss of a dear friend, an idol, a husband, a father.

That word sends a wave of anxiety and fear through him. He knows he can’t run forever and really, he doesn’t want to. He just doesn’t know how to deal with — everything. How to be the man he needs to be. How to step up and not fuck this up.

Sometimes fear makes you do stupid things, really stupid things. Like avoiding the love of your life because you are too afraid of what she might think of you.

His eyes find (Y/N) as she leans against a tree, lips pulled into a sad smile as Sam rambles about one thing or another next to her. This isn’t right. Sam shouldn’t be the one cheering her up and trying to get her to smile. It should be him. If only he wasn’t such a coward.

People don’t talk about these things though. They only talk about those that had been gone now being back again. They talk about the joy of being reunited but not the fears, the sadness, the disappointment — and they sure as hell don’t talk about the guilt.

The guilt of coming back after 5 years to find out you missed so many important moments in the life of a child you never knew you had.

His eyes wander down towards the little girl holding on tightly to her mother’s hand. She has his eyes, his dark hair, his lips. She’s a spitting image of his younger sister. A Barnes through and trough.

Every time he looks at her his heart beats out of his chest in a way he’s never felt before. When they say that the love for your own child is an instant emotion, they are not wrong or exaggerating.

The moment he came back from oblivion and first laid eyes on her, it felt like his heart had known her all his life. He wanted to hold her and shelter her from all the bad things the world might throw her way. Wanted to kiss her little nose and read her stories and sing her silly little songs. He hated singing but for her, he wanted to do it. Just because that’s what dads do.

But fear is one hell of an emotion and above all, it’s terribly convincing.

He’d never had a particularly good example of a father. It was different times then. Different ways of raising your child. Fathers weren’t meant to show affection, they were meant to enforce rules and order. How could he ever be good at this? He doesn’t have a single clue how to do any of this.

And then there’s the fact that he’s left (Y/N) alone to deal with all of this. Every first has been forever taken from him. First breath, first cry, first word, first steps. Every little thing.

Would she resent him for it? For not being there when it mattered?

So he ran. He came back and he ran.

She doesn’t deserve this and neither does (Y/N). They deserve so much better.

“ It’s time Buck. “ Steve speaks up as he leans against the porch railing next to his oldest friend.

“ Are you still sure about this? “ Bucky asks, not taking his eyes off of his girls. His stomach feels like he’s swallowed a bag of bricks. Life was supposed to be easier after Thanos. This isn’t easy. This is just scary. And sad.

“ That, “ Steve says and nods his head towards (Y/N) and the girl “ that’s your second chance. I gotta take mine. “

Bucky turns to look at his friend trying to figure out what to say next but coming up empty. What do you say to that? Steve deserves to be happy. He deserves to be where his heart always has been. Does it mean Bucky thinks it’s the right choice? Not necessarily. But he understands. Had it been him and (Y/N) he would’ve crossed time and space to be with her.

Which is ironic to think because now all he does is avoid her. Because that’s the coward he is.

“ Alright let’s go. I’ll grab Bruce you do — whatever you gotta do. “

He dares to send one last look towards (Y/N) and this time she’s looking back with a soft eye and a timid little smile on her lips. None of which he is deserving of.

Steve let's go of Sam, parting with one last friendly slap on the back before turning towards Bucky.

Bucky's throat feels dry and rough and while his head is swirling with words he wants to say, none of them really make it past his lips. He's known about Steve's idea for a few days now, has had time to let it settle and come to terms with it. It still breaks his heart but sometimes that's what you do for the people you love. You support them on their path to happiness even if it hurts you in the process.

"I'll miss you," Bucky finally manages to say and he wraps his arm around his friend's shoulder. "You'll always be my brother."

"I know. I'll miss you too. But I know you're in good hands." Steve responds and lets his gaze wander towards the house, no doubt talking about (Y/N) and the kid.

"Promise me something, Buck." He says as he pulls away.

"Anything."

"Talk to (Y/N) and get to know your daughter. She's a Barnes through and through. And she loves you so much, they both do. Let them. Love 'em back."

"Kid doesn't even know me," Bucky murmurs, nervously glancing at the floor.

"What? You really think that? Buck, all we did for the last 5 years was try to keep your memory alive. For us but especially for her. We showed her pictures and videos and (Y/N) told her so many stories. She knows you and she loves you and for the first time in her life, she's living in a world where her dad is alive and present. Go, be with them. You guys need each other."

He's right. Of course, he's right. Steve has this fantastic ability to be right when it matters.

“And don’t do anything stupid until I get back!” Steve adds, making a small smile appear on Bucky’s face.

“How can I? You’re taking all the stupid with you. “

They embrace each other one last time before Bucky whispers another “I’ll miss you” and Steve tells him that “It’ll be okay, Buck”.

And then everything happens so fast. One moment he’s living in a world where his best friend is by his side and a minute later all of that has forever changed.

Bucky wipes his eyes with the back of his hand one last time before looking at himself in the mirror. He knew this moment was coming, Steve told him. He had time to come to terms with it and yet it’s a completely different situation now that it’s done. Parting with the only family you’ve ever known breaks your heart in ways you’ve never known are possible.

As he steps out of the bathroom something solid crashes against him and as he looks down, a pair of identical blue eyes stare back at him. He’s not been this close to her since he found out about her, keeping her at a distance. To protect her.

His arm was made to kill how could it ever hold a child and keep it safe?

She stares at him for a moment before a small “Hi” falls from her lips. It’s shy and timid and adorable and all Bucky wants to do is cuddle her to his chest and never let her go.

He doesn’t get the chance though as another little girl rushes past them and calls out to his daughter to follow her which she does.

“Who is that?” Bucky hears Morgan question.

“That’s my daddy, but I don’t think he wants to see me. Mommy says he needs time but —“

He doesn’t hear the rest of her words as the girls round the corner and get swallowed by the sounds of the other guests still mulling around sharing stories about their fallen hero.

But it’s enough. He doesn’t need to hear more. Those words are enough to rip his heart out of his rib cage, crush it up into a million little pieces, and spread it in the winds, never to be able to be put together ever again.

“Hey have you seen — oh Bucky are you okay?”

He doesn’t deserve her tenderness, her kindness, and her care, and yet she still exudes the same love she’s always held for him. Love he was never deserving of from the beginning.

It doesn’t matter at that moment though, who deserves what and who doesn’t. He’s too caught up in the breaking of his own heart. So he falls into her arms as silent tears slowly but surely make their way down his cheeks.

“She thinks I don’t want to see her.”

“Who does?” (Y/N) says as she gently combs her fingers through his long hair.

“My own daughter. “

(Y/N) pulls away slightly, holding onto his shoulders and looking deep into his eyes.

“Are you ready to talk about this now? Ready to stop avoiding me ?”

Bucky only nods and lets her lead him outside past the guests and down to the lake where it’s quiet and serene and life seems to slow down a little. She keeps holding on to his hand, his vibranium one, as they settle on a bench facing each other.

“ I missed you, Bucky.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

He’s been told those words so many times and it’s still hard to believe in them. Even when he knows they’re true. There will always be a hint of doubt since him. Always.

“I don’t — I don’t want her to think I don’t love her. Or want to be with her. I do love her very much. More than I have ever loved another person, including you, and you are my everything. I’m just overwhelmed and — and scared.” He admits. It’s the first time he says those words to anyone but himself. It feels good. It feels right. But it doesn’t take the fear away or the guilt.

“James, she knows you love her. Not a day went by that I didn’t tell her how much her daddy loves her and wants to be with us. And it’s okay to be scared. I was scared and I only had to deal with a baby, not an opinionated 4-year-old. It’s okay to be scared but you can’t let the fear hold you back. You’re the bravest man I know. You laugh in the face of danger. What changed?”

“Stakes are higher this time. What’s losing my life compared to ruining my daughter’s?”

“You’re not gonna ruin anyone’s life, Buck.” (Y/N) exclaims and softly pets the side of his face. She’s always been so gentle with him. Such a contrast to the touches he was used to.

“I don’t know the first thing about being a dad. Mine wasn’t a very good example. I have been trained to kill, to cause pain. My arm is a weapon.”

“Your arm has shielded me from bullets and harm so many times. It’s held me close at night and wipes my tears when I was sad. Your arm is only a weapon if you use it like that. And all the other stuff, that’s not you anymore. You know this. “

He can see the treads now welling in her eyes too and it makes his heart twist and constrict in many painful ways.

“And I left you alone during all of it. Missed the last 4 years of her life and the entire pregnancy. How am I gonna make up for that, for leaving you alone?”

It feels like once he’s started talking he can’t stop. All his fears and worries flow from his lips like tidal waves in an ocean. Crashing against the shore of truth.

“You didn’t leave us Bucky. You were taken from us. We never blamed you for that. I know you wanted to be there. I never doubted that for a second. Look, I had 9 months to come to terms with my fears, you didn’t have any time to face them. I get why you are freaking out but uh — it’s time to step up. You know what makes a good dad? Being there when he can be. Showing he cares. Can you do that?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I think I can.” Bucky promises and smiles a smile of content. One of hope. His fears and his guilt aren’t gone. But maybe if she believes in him and Steve does, maybe he can be the man and the father he needs to be.

“Good. We really do love you, Buck.”

“As in present tense?”

“Of course. We never stopped. Now can I ask one more thing of you?”

“What’s that?” In the end, it wouldn’t really matter. Whatever she asks he’ll do it. For her, he’ll do anything.

“Can you kiss me? I’ve been waiting for 5 years to finally kiss you again. I can’t hold out much longer. “

He grants her not one kiss, not two. In fact, he loses count as they get lost in many many loving kisses. Maybe, Bucky thinks, soulmates really are a thing. Maybe there are people on this earth meant to find each other. Meant to go through hardships together and still find their way back to one another in the end.

Whatever one chooses to believe in. Bucky is certain she is his person in this life and the next and through whatever might come their way.

He’s sitting on the big red couch in (Y/N)’s apartment, nervously fumbling with the tassels on one of the throw pillows as his eyes wander around the room. There are so many pictures, hung on the walls and placed on side tables and shelves. His child’s entire life up to now, caught on film for him to relive if only in his mind.

There are pictures of him too. One of him and Steve in the 40s, laughing and leaning against each other in support. (Y/N) always said it was one of her favorites. “You’re so happy in it. That’s how happy I want you to be all the time.” She’s told him once.

Next to a picture of (Y/N) and their daughter is a picture of him. He’s sure it’s placed there deliberately. To remind everyone he is a part of this family, even when he wasn’t there.

He is here now though. The next picture put up will be one of all three of them.

The front door opens and a melody of voices echoes through the place. (Y/N)’s laughter and the sweet giggle of his little girl. It’s his favorite sound in the world, he decided then and there. Nothing will ever compare.

The girl rushes into the room then comes to an abrupt stop in front of him.

“Hi,” she says in the same small voice as she did at the Stark’s house. Only this time Bucky doesn’t just stand and stare at her, unable to move or speak.

This time he holds out his arms and speaks up.

“Hi, I — I'm sorry it has taken me so long. I don’t know what I was thinking. I love you, Darling. Can I hug you?”

She doesn’t say yes or no, doesn’t glance at his vibranium arm with hesitance of fear. She falls right into him, wrapping her little arms around his neck and cuddling into his chest. It feels like this is where she belongs, like this is where she was always meant to be. Like his arms were made to hold her and never let go. And maybe, Bucky thinks, maybe they were.

“I love you too, daddy.”

He liked being a sergeant. It’s a title that has always filled him with pride. It has nothing on the title of being a dad. That one means so much more. Fills him with a pride and love he’s never previously known.

For the next few moments, he gets lost in the feeling of holding his child. A perfect little girl who is part of him. The good. Only the good. It all comes together in her. No nightmares or guilt or fears. Only love. So much love. He holds her close to his heart, wishing he could’ve done this when she was just a baby. Feel her heart beat in rhythm with his. He places little kisses up and down her small face. On her chubby little cheeks and her cute bottom nose, making her scrunch it up and let out soft giggles.

It’s strange to be the man he is and act so gently with another human being. But it feels so right.

His eyes find (Y/N)’s across the room, filled with tears though this time they are happy ones. With an outreached hand he beckons her over and pulls her onto the couch and into the hug.

This is right. Nothing has ever felt this real. This happy. This perfect.

His girls cuddle into him with nothing but love filling their hearts. This is the life he wants, the one he has always wanted. The life he fought for. The life he will never stop fighting for.

Steve was wrong. They aren’t his second chance.

They’re his only chance.

His destiny.

His family.

His home.

TAGLIST:  @stayherefor-evermore  - @booksb4looksstuff​ - @captainofallfandoms - @charmed-asylum​

[northlight14]

Gettin’ bi

(Title inspired by the song “Gettin’ bi” from the show “crazy ex girlfriend”)

Description: Really, all Roman wanted was some time to relax after a long week. But, of coarse, his brother Remus has to come and crash his binge watching session. 

TW: caps, cursing, let me know if I need to add anything else

Ships: platonic creativity twins, implied roceit

Genre: human au, high school au (kinda, it’s mentioned they go to high school but that’s it)

Prompt: bisexual (prompt given by @pridewrite2021

(Mild spoilers for the show crazy ex girlfriend!! Also if you haven’t seen it, go watch it because it’s soo good and not as sexist as the title makes it sound! You don’t really need to have seen the show tho to read this)

It had been a long week. Roman had been having to balance home work, art coursework AND practicing for the school show. Not to mention how many arguments he’d gotten into with Virgil about lighting of said show. But now it was finally Friday night and he could breathe. 

Roman went straight to change out of his regular clothes and into his silk red pajamas, the material feeling soft against his skin. He then switched off his bedroom light, making the room as dark as possible, flopped onto his bed and switched on his TV to Netflix. He looked through each of the shows on his list that he’d been meaning to watch before changing to his ‘watch again’ list to binge ‘Crazy Ex Girlfriend’ for the 5th time. What? Roman knew what he liked. 

He clicked onto a random episode before huddling into his white duvet and red and yellow pillows. A few episodes passed, Roman singing along to all the songs having memorised them by now.

‘I really needed this’ Roman thought as the next episode began to play.

Then, as if on que, his brother Remus burst through his door, the light from the hallway blinding Roman.

“Hey dipshit! What we watchin’?” Remus said, jumping onto Romans bed, crushing his legs in the process.

“Ow! Remus!” Roman squawked, pulling his legs away.

“Don’t be a puss.” Remus laughed, nudging his brother in the side and yanking the blanket over towards him.

“Remus!” Roman said, trying and failing to steal his blanket back.

“Sorry Ro-bro, it’s mine now. So, what we watchin?” He asked again.

Resigning himself to the fact that Remus wasn’t going to leave, he answered rather defeatedly, “Crazy Ex Girlfriend.”

“That again? Wait, was that you singing the songs again?! I thought a cat was getting mauled somewhere or something!” Remus laughed as Roman made an offended gasp before hitting his brother in the head with one of his pillows.

“Shut up!”

They were able to get though a few minutes of the episode without too much of an issue. Emphasis on the too much because Roman has a beautiful singing voice thank you very much and those aren’t even the right lyrics Remus and you know it!

That was until a very specific scene started to play.

‘Shit.’ Roman thought. ‘Are we up to this bit already?’

Roman watched very quietly as the character Darryl began to call his co-workers into his office, his back going (ironically) very straight and his discomfort hanging thick in the air.

‘What the heckity heck five abs and one pec am I supposed to do here?’ Roman thought in panic as Darryl began to sing the iconic song ‘Gettin bi’ as he came out to his co-workers. It was one of Romans personal favourites in the series considering he was also bisexual. But also considering no one apart from a few close friends knew that, this was approaching dangerous territory.

‘If I don’t sing this song, that’ll look suspicious!’ Roman thought. ‘But if I do, there’s a very high chance I’ll get too into it and out myself! How the heck to straight people react to this?!’

He eventually opted to humming it slightly, making a comment about how he “doesn’t really know the words to this one,” despite it being on his playlist. Roman then dared a glance at his brother, who was watching the show unbothered. He couldn’t help but wonder what Remus was thinking. Sure, Remus had never said anything homophobic in the past but Roman had met some of his friends and they weren’t exactly the most pleasant of people.

‘Well, most of them.’ Roman thought, blushing slightly as he thought of Janus, Remus’ best friend, before shaking the thought away.

“It’s pretty cool they have so much diversity in this show.” Remus said casually, tossing popcorn into his mouth. (Wait, when did Remus get popcorn?) “I mean, most shows completely ignore bisexual people existing but this guy gets a whole ass song about it.”

Roman couldn’t help the warm, comforting feeling in his chest. “You think?” He said, carefully.

“Well, yeah. Me and one of my friends who’s bi was talking about this yesterday. In shows and movies, they always act like a character can only be either straight or gay but that’s so stupid. They can be bi or pan or poly or omni. They’re just uncreative and erasing a bunch of people.” Remus said, tossing a sweet into his mouth. (Wait, when did Remus get sweets? What the fuck?!)

Roman honestly felt like he could cry. “So you don’t think it’s, like, made up or whatever. Or a phase?” Remus looked at him judgingly.

“Well, obviously not.” He said as if Roman was stupid. “Why, do-oof” Remus was cut off by Roman tackling him into a hug. And yep, Roman was definitely crying now. Remus just seemed to freeze like a deer in headlights.

“Roman, what the hell?” Roman moved away from Remus, frantically whipping tears from his eyes. “Uh...Roman? You alright?”

“I’m...um.” Roman began to choke on the words he was so close to speaking. ‘Am I really about to do this?’ “I’m bisexual.” He quickly said, eyes averting Remus’.

There was a beat.

It surely must have been just a few seconds but God did it feel like an eternity. Roman looked at Remus, waiting for him to say something. Anything.

‘Oh God this was a mistake! He hates you! He’s going to out you to mom and dad and-‘

Remus smirked. “Yeah, and the skys blue, grass is green and snakes have two dicks. What else is new?” Remus laughed.

“I...what?” Roman said, not entirely sure what to say to that, especially that last comment.

“I already knew you weren’t straight, you dork.” Remus smiled, nudging Roman in the shoulder.

“You...what?” Remus just laughed.

“Roman, you’re literally a theatre kid. Plus, anyone with eyes can see you drooling over Janus every time I bring him over.” Roman felt his entire face go red at that. Then he felt a twisting sense of horror in his gut.

“Do mom and dad know?!” He asked, slightly panicked.

“Probably not but I won’t tell them if you’re not ready.” Roman sighed in relief at that.

The two then turned back to the TV. The song had finished and the episode was continuing. Roman felt...strange. Almost as if it wasn’t him who had just come out.

“I’m really proud of you, you know.” Remus said, not taking his eyes off the screen with a small smile on his lips. Roman felt his heart light up, almost like a massive weight had been lifted from his chest.

That was until Remus playfully punched him in the arm.

“Ow! Remus!”

“What? That’s how I show affection!”

This quickly turned into a wrestling match.

Roman was glad things hadn’t changed that much, at least.

————

Reblogs >>> likes

For those who want to listen to the song: here

I’m not saying this was an excuse for me to tell everyone to go watch crazy ex but like...I’m not denying it either😅

[rainywritingsx]

Scenario: Satan & Lucifer cheating on MC

Request: Your beezlebub and asmo cheating angst was so good oml if it's okay with you can I request the same but with satan and lucifer??

Satan and Lucifer…. My heart is about to be crushed and I hope yours too :). I thought I went overboard with Staan when I wrote his part, but Lucifer too,,,,, damn,,,, hope you enjoy? I didn’t really proofread sorry, it’s like 2Am right now and imma sleeeepppp. Hope you like it, remember to leave a like, reblog or comment if you do ^^ I’d love to read feedback!

xxx Rainbow

Warnings: Mild swearing and slight nsfw suggestion at Lucifer’s part??

3032 words

If you enjoy what I write, feel free to tip me by buying me a coffee here! ^^

Satan 

On one hand, Y/n should’ve seen it coming. It was not an everyday thing that Satan just randomly made friends, nor was he the type to just go out to clubs and see people. But one of his teachers had asked him to help some demon with the homework they’ve had for the past few weeks. Apparently she had been struggling with literature a lot and since Satan was basically a bookworm, it was only natural that he would be chosen to help out.

At first Y/n wasn’t worried at all. They trusted Satan almost blindly and knew him well. He wouldn’t just mess around with someone. He still kept seeing them regularly and they hung out as often as always.

It was when they started seeing Satan less often that Y/n began to grow slightly concerned. They didn’t have as many dates as before anymore, and sometimes when they would go to his room he wouldn’t even be there. The brothers would tell them that he was tutoring that demon again. Here they felt an uneasy feeling in their stomach. Satan would usually tell them if he went somewhere because he knew Y/n often visited him in his room. But still, Y/n didn’t want to discuss it with him because they didn’t want to cause an unnecessary argument. Satan wouldn’t cheat on them.

Right?

However, when even during lunch at RAD Satan didn’t visit Y/n, their discomfort grew. This was really unusual. Was he having lunch with that demon? Were they talking so much that he completely forgot about them? Was he not interested in Y/n anymore? No, that couldn’t be true. If that were the case Satan would tell them, he would never cheat. Maybe he wasn’t even with that demon, maybe he was with one of the brothers! Or maybe Simeon and Luke, or Solomon… Maybe he had to ask Diavolo something?

Y/n bit their lip as they thought about what to do. Maybe they should look for them, just so that this uneasy feeling could finally go away and they could see with their own eyes absolutely nothing was wrong. Now…. The first place where Y/n should look was the library, right? It was open at lunch time too, so he could be there, maybe reading a new book that he found.

So, Y/n finally got up, put their lunch back in their bag to eat later and made their way to the library. Each step closer made their heart pound louder and louder. It was only when Y/n finally got there and wanted to open the door that they realised their hands were shaking and sweaty. So, before entering they took a deep breath to calm themselves down.

“Come on, Y/n. It’s no big deal. Everything is completely fine.” They softly said to themselves, hoping that this tiny pep talk would calm down the raging adrenaline going through their body. When they felt like they were ready, Y/n finally opened the door slowly. The only people that she saw in clear sight were a few demons studying and Solomon, who seemed to be reading through a book about spells. So Satan wasn’t here? That was odd…

Y/n was about to leave when they heard a female laugh along with a male chuckle that was way too familiar to them. They stopped breathing for a second and looked around the room, finally seeing their boyfriend, laughing with someone else who was way too close for their liking, resting her hand on his arm. There were a few open books, but Y/n could tell the two were not concentrated at all, and before they could even call out Satan’s name, they witnessed the girl pulling him closer and pressing their lips against his.

“S-Satan?!” Y/n said in surprise. It seemed that there was no person of authority present right now, as nobody commented on their voice. Still, other people heard them. Satan turned his head and as soon as he saw his actual partner, the one he was supposed to be affectionate with, his breath hitched in his throat. Without even waiting for him to say anything, Y/n left the library. Satan immediately stood up and left too, ignoring the girl completely.

He had no idea where they went, but he could only assume it was probably outside, where it was quiet. So he did the first thing that came to mind which was running to the garden of the school to find them.

Satan’s mind was foggy. It was only when he saw the heart wrenching look on his partner’s face that he realised what he had been doing. And Y/n never said a word about it because they trusted him. Instead of appreciating that and showing that he is worthy of their faith in him, he messed around with her heart and put himself into this incredibly awful situation. Why? Why didn’t he stop her, why did he continue hanging out when he knew damn well that her intentions were beyond him tutoring her?

He was brought out of his thoughts when he heard quiet, muffled sobs. Part of Satan wanted to run away, because he couldn’t believe he would ever hurt the person he loved and hearing them like this already tore him apart, but he had to own up to his mistake, so he kept walking. What he didn’t expect however, was that they weren't’t alone. Solomon sat next to Y/n on a bench and just hugged her without saying a word. When he saw Satan, his expression hardened. He didn’t  say anything as a sign for Satan to start talking.

“Y/n, my love…” the sobs stopped. Y/n looked at Satan with an unreadable expression on their face. They were deep in thought. Should they talk to him? Or leave and talk it out later? No, this had to be done now. Y/n was done being toyed with like this.

“Solomon,” Y/n said, their voice shaky. “C-could you leave me and Satan alone, please?” he gave them a kind smile and nodded before leaving, shortly glaring at him without Y/n noticing. When he left, Satan carefully sat down next to Y/n and spoke up.

“My dear-”

“Quit the petnames, Satan.” Y/n shot at him, their voice now sharp and angry. His eyes slightly widened at the change of tone, but he couldn’t blame them. And he had the feeling that this wasn’t going to end the way he wanted to.

“I trusted you. I kept telling myself you weren’t messing around with her because I believed you would never do that to me! I wanted to believe that you were only tutoring her, I wanted to believe that so badly!”

“Kitte-Y/n, please believe me, the only time we did anything physical was what you just saw. I never-”

“That’s one time too many Satan! It should’ve never happened! Even if it wasn’t always physical, the fact that you started hanging out with her more than me at one point, broke my heart. Do you think that that doesn’t hurt because I didn’t see you two making out? How would you react if I suddenly became friendly with someone and started ditching you completely for them?” To that, Satan had no reply. He knew they were right.

“I’m done, I don’t want to talk about this.” Y/n said and stood up. “I hope you two had a nice time together, because you can spend all of your days with her now that we are over.”

“Y/n, I’m so sorry, please let me make it up to you. I promise I won’t talk to her again, I’ll prove to you that you can trust me.” Y/n chuckled softly as they shook their head.

“Satan, you don’t know what they tell us about demons in the Human world?” y/n sighed.

“They do nothing but lie and make empty promises.”

Lucifer

Of course, he was just an assistant. Diavolo had hired him to help Lucifer, nothing more. Really, at first Y/n even believed that Diavolo was an angel - how ironic, for finally finding someone who could help their boyfriend with the ton of work he always had to do. This way They could spend more time with their boyfriend, right?

Nope.

It was still a lot of work that still took Lucifer a lot of time, he was just less stressed because of it now. But still, the amount of time the two got to spend together wasn’t more than before, which made Y/n a little sad, but they didn’t want to start an argument, so they decided to not mention it.

After a little while, things slowly started to change though. It seemed that Lucifer actually had to work more now, to the point where he was overworking even. It made them worried about him but whenever they’d mention it, Lucifer would just brush it off. And again, because Y/n didn’t want to start an unnecessary argument, they kept quiet about this as well.

However, when Y/n heard Asmodeus talking during breakfast at the house of Lamentation, they got worried. He was talking about Lucifer.

“He really seems to get close to that assistant of his. Oh my, I dare even say that new guy has taken an interest in him!~” Asmodeus giggled. Y/n’s expression fell, which didn’t go unnoticed by the other brothers.

“Y/n, you know how Asmo is,” Satan reassured them. “he’s just exaggerating, don’t sweat it. Despite the fact that I cannot stand him, I know Lucifer wouldn’t  do something like that.” Though Y/n’s worries hadn’t completely disappeared, they did feel a little better because of their friend’s words.

“Yeah, you’re right. Thank you, Satan.” Y/n said and smiled at Satan, who nodded and sent a kind smile back. Of course Satan wasn’t completely wrong, but Y/n was still scared that for some reason things were going to take an unexpected turn. And people often said to trust your gut right? No, Lucifer wouldn’t do that…

During the days that followed, Y/n was constantly having an inner debate on whether or not to voice their concerns to their lover. On one hand, it could turn out to be nothing and Y/n would immediately be reassured that everything was completely fine. On the other hand however, maybe this would only stress out Lucifer. If that happened, Diavolo’s attempt of lessening the stress of Lucifer would be for nothing, so perhaps staying quiet was the better option.

“You can always visit him if you’re that worried.” Belphegor said after he listened to Y/n’s rambling about her concerns. “The worst thing that can happen is that Lucifer gets annoyed and sends you back, but knowing him and his weakness for you, that’s unlikely.” It was a good suggestion… But then again, was it really necessary?

“If you’re worried about being too obvious, just bring him a meal or something.” Oh, that was a good idea! Y/n was on cooking duty today anyway, and he never turned down their meals.

Keeping something for Lucifer, so, making sure Beel didn’t eat it was a whole task, but Y/n managed to do it successfully. With a small smile they packed his dinner in a lunch box along with something to drink. After they were done, Y/n left the kitchen and let the others know that they were leaving. Within a second Mammon was in the hallway, wanting to come along.

“Hey, I don’t want ya to get eaten by a demon or somethin’, okay? It’s dangerous for a weak little human to be here out alone.” He said, looking away to hide the small blush that was forming on his cheek. “Lucifer would kill me if somethin’ happened to you, so that’s why I’m here.” he mumbled, causing Y/n to giggle.

“Alright, let’s go then.” They said before the two them left together. Luckily the walk wasn’t too far, and the fact that Y/n wasn’t on their own was probably one of the reasons that it was peaceful too.

When they finally arrived at RAD, Mammon and Y/n were greeted by Diavolo, who seemed more than happy to see them.

“Y/n! Mammon! What brings you two here?” he asked curiously, before noticing the box in Y/n’s hands. A small smile was on his face and he looked back at the human. “Nevermind, I see. Lucifer is in his office.” Y/n nodded, thanking Diavolo before leaving on their own. Mammon decided to wait, wanting to give the two some alone time.

As Y/n got closer to their boyfriend’s office, a feeling of discomfort came over them for a moment. No, this was so silly, they just had to go, give this to him and then leave.

When they got to his office, Y/n knocked on the door softly, but they received no reply. Strange… Didn’t Diavolo say he was supposed to be here? Y/n decided to knock again, just in case he hadn’t heard it and oftly called out his name too, but to no avail. Y/n bit their lip softly. Maybe he was really busy. But then again, a tiny break wouldn’t hurt anyone, Diavolo didn’t tell Y/n to hurry up or something. So finally, Y/n decided to just open the door.

But now they really wish they hadn’t done that. Indeed, Lucifer was here. But on his lap was whom Y/n assumed to be his assistant, both half naked as they were making out. In shock, Y/n dropped everything they were holding which caused the two to stop and look. Lucifer’s eyes became the size of dinner plates when he realised who was standing there. The other male could probably tell who this human was, and was flustered as well.

“Fuck you, Lucifer.” Was all Y/n could say before they left. Y/n was almost running, wanting to do nothing but go to their room and cry. When Mammon spotted them coming in his direction, he was confused to say the least. That was quick? But soon his confusion grew into concern when he saw the tears rolling down their cheeks.

“What happened?” Was all he managed to ask. Y/n shook their head and looked at him.

“Can we just go back? Please, Mammon?” Their voice was soft and wavering, as if they could burst into tears at any moment. Without even thinking he nodded. On their way, both were silent. Y/n couldn’t stop replaying what just happened. Why did he do that? For how long has this been going on? Had they been like that before, or even more intimate? Why didn’t he just break up with them if he was interested in somebody else?

When they got home, Y/n ran to their room without saying a word to anyone. Right when Mammon was about to close the door, Lucifer’s hand pushed it open, surprising the younger brother. He was panting because he had been running and his face looked distraught, but really Mammon wanted to do nothing but punch him. However, he knew that was a bad idea so he kept silent.

Lucifer immediately ran to Y/n’s room, knowing that that would be where they’d go. As he got closer, he felt a sense of guilt, which as the Avatar of Pride, he absolutely despised. How could he have done something so horrible to the love of his life? He decided not to knock, but slowly opened the door of Y/n’s room, and when he saw them laying on their bed crying into a pillow, he only felt more remorse.

“Y/n..” he began. “I-I’m-”

“Get out.” Y/n said, their voice low as they lifted their head up to look at him. Lucifer was surprised at this attitude since Y/n never acted like this, but he knew he deserved it. However, he couldn’t leave. He couldn’t lose them.

“Dear, if you would just listen-”

“Lucifer, I said get out!” Y/n repeated, their voice louder this time as they stood up. “You have no right to just come into my room and do the talking now after you betrayed me! Here I was thinking you were overworking, but you were just fucking someone else!” For the first time in his life, Lucifer was speechless. He had no excuse for this. Nothing made this okay.

“I see you don’t have anything to say either. I have one question, Lucifer: Do you love him, or me?” They asked, their voice a lot softer now. Normally Lucifer was able to answer this within a heartbeat, but his mind was all over the place. Why was he even kissing that demon like that?

“I see…” Y/n said with a defeated smile. “I expected this. Now, can you just go?” Their eyes were practically begging him to leave, their voice thick and laced with hurt. And Lucifer knew that this was the best option for the both of them. He truly hoped that they would be able to solve this. He didn’t say a word as he turned around to leave the room.

“And I know what you’re thinking right now.” Lucifer stopped in his tracks. “And no, I don’t want to give you another change. I’m so done with you, Lucifer.” They said, their voice becoming rougher again. The demon tried keeping his head up, not wanting to give in where anyone could see and left, closing the door behind him. When he finally got to his own room, Lucifer’s tears started spilling too. He made a huge mistake, and he just knew he had lost them, he really had. And this reminded him exactly why he deserved to be here, in Hell, where he had to pay for his horrible actions. He swore to himself to never hurt them, yet he just crumbled their heart like it was nothing. He was a monster.

[antihero-writings]

The Boy with the Unspeakable Name (Ch11)

Fandom: Harry Potter (and the Chamber or Secrets)

Fic Summary: Tom Riddle may have won his battle with Harry in the Chamber of Secrets, but there were a few unforeseen consequences; loss of Tom’s memory being the most obnoxious of them. Is it possible to stop Tom’s past from becoming his future? Or is the young Tom Riddle doomed to repeat his mistakes?

Notes: Alright everyone I'M BACK ...And I'm so so SO sorry that I took so long to update. Over the past few months I took my first real break from posting fanfiction overall in a long time.

Before I posted this chapter, I actually ended up heavily editing some of the previous chapters, which I'd like to inform those who read the originals about first. (Currently only the Ao3 version, and the reblog version of this fic with the picture on top are up-to-date.)

* I made Tom overall more polite. I was of the belief that his politeness was not an innate trait, and without memory, he would be a bit more unpleasant, and then we could see him grow with time. I do still believe it's not an innate personality trait, but a couple things made me realize he really should act differently in my fic. * I made Snape treat Tom better in the interrogation chapter. Both at the beginning and end. I liked the ending with the Levicorpus spell, and I do kinda miss it, especially because it informed Harry's reactions, but I think it was just too mean, especially because of something I'm going for later. * I added a conversation with the other boy in the hospital wing. (By the way, if you go back to read that and can think of more things they should talk about, don't hesitate to let me know!)

...I think those are all the big things! Feel free to offer feedback on the changes if you read them!

I'm so sorry to everyone who was hoping for faster updates. I truly do appreciate your comments and support deeply, and hope that you will continue to read and still enjoy it. I would still love to hear what you think!! <3 <3

Chapter 11: The House of Books

“The summer? With you? And Harry Potter?”

Tom had been examining the objects Snape had brought him—objects which had apparently once belonged to him—and blinked, raising his head to look at him.

“Believe me, I am not thrilled about it either.”

“No, it’s not that—well, it is—it’s just…” He paused, running his fingers along the clothes laid out on the bed before him, then squinted up at Snape. “I’m trying to discern why this is a good idea.”

Snape looked away, seemingly wondering that himself.

“I think, with time, you’ll find that our headmaster has a very unique sense of what is good for others. He believes uncomfortable situations often serve for people’s betterment.” He looked off to the side and muttered, “Whether or not they agree.”

“What sort of ‘betterment’ does this serve?”

“I suppose he would like the three of us to…”—He exhaled—“get along.”

Tom raised an eyebrow a second time, as if to say Us? Really?

“Futile though it may be,” Snape added.

Tom bit his lip, internally assessing the situation as he also returned to assessing the objects.

It wasn’t ideal—that didn’t need stating. Tom had a difficult time fathoming why Dumbledore—who seemed to bear him no ill-will—would want him to live with one person who had a rather insurmountable grudge against him, and another who didn’t seem to like him much better. He wanted them to ‘get along?’ `Surely that couldn’t be it. There had to be more to it.

Was Dumbledore really so naive as to think they’d grow closer instead of hate each other more? Not that he quite understood why they hated each other in the first place.

“Is there a reason I can’t stay here over the summer? I wouldn’t mind.”

Clearly Snape would have preferred that as well.

“You no doubt heard at the Feast that there has been some question as to whether Hogwarts is entirely safe. The Board of Governors likely wouldn’t approve of a student staying over the summer until they are able to deny these suspicions. Also, the headmaster wants you to learn magic over the summer, and due to few teachers possessing a proclivity to stay at Hogwarts during this time, we must make other arrangements.”

Tom’s breath bated at the reveal that he’d be learning magic, his mind beginning to buzz. He tried not to let his excitement leak into his voice:

“You’ll be teaching me magic?”

“Do keep up.”

“So…” He sat back. “What’s Harry going to do?”

“Mister Potter will be…taking up space as usual, I presume.”

Tom stifled a laugh; he hadn’t been expecting such a response from a professor.

“You don’t like Harry, do you?”

“I’m not…particularly fond of him.”

“Is it too forward of me to say it doesn’t appear you’re particularly fond of me either?”

“I pains me to say you’ll have adequate time to learn there aren’t a great many things I feel an extensive amount of fondness for.”

Tom could already see it now.

“Consider it a trial period, of sorts.” Snape swept around the room as he altered the direction of conversation. “If you are able to succeed over the summer, you may continue your schooling at Hogwarts when the next year begins. How much you learn, and how quickly, will determine the year in which you are placed. That is, if you’re placed in any year at all.” He looked down his hooked nose at him like that was both the most likely option, and the most preferable.

Tom could tell hidden behind his words was the idea that this ‘trial period’ was about more than just how adept he was at magic. He’d didn’t need telling that he’d have to be careful in more ways than magical.

“Do you have any other business to attend to before we leave?”

“Wait, we’re leaving now?”

“I don’t come to the hospital wing for pleasant chats if that’s what you’re asking.”

Tom bit his lip. In all honesty he would have liked to stay and explore the school more, but he could tell Snape wasn’t the kind of person one could negotiate such things with.

He turned back to the items that were supposed to be his.

“Is this really all I have?” He asked softly.

Sure all the essentials were there: clothes, books, toiletries and the like, but nothing more personal. No pictures for his nightstand, or even a keepsake to remind him of home, of family. Nothing that could tell him a little more about himself.

Snape paused a moment before he replied: “All of which I’m aware.”

Tom didn’t say anything. Merely put everything back in the trunk and followed Snape to the door.

“Don’t you have anything to bring home with you?” Tom asked.

“Don’t you think a skilled wizard such as myself would have methods of sending it to its proper location?”

They spent the walk across the grounds in silence, which could probably be considered steely, though Tom didn’t mind. The grounds around Hogwarts, and what little he saw of the castle, were altogether beautiful, and empty conversation would only have dulled his enjoyment. He turned around, walking backwards, a smile creeping upon his face upon at the sight of the castle in its full glory. He came to find this wasn’t a school, this was a palace, a haven.

A—

The word home rose to the surface of his chest.

It occurred to him this was the first time he’d smiled since he lost his memory. Really and truly smiled.

The feeling wasn’t half bad.

Snape raised an eyebrow. “You like it?”

Tom cleared his throat. “It’s nice I guess.” But he couldn’t stuff the smile down, couldn’t quite figure out what this feeling was.

He must be a student, surely. Otherwise, why would he feel such fondness for the place?

He didn’t think Snape would reply, and was surprised to hear, barely audible, “I always thought as much.”

They arrived at a wrought iron gate with winged boars on either side—(really living up to the name, Tom supposed. All they needed was a decent amount of warts on them). Once they had passed through it, Snape stopped abruptly and held out his arm. It seemed he was expecting Tom to take it.

Tom wasn’t quite sure why he ought to do this, (and was rather offput by the thought of touching this man). Still, he did as he was told and—

He felt like he was being pigeonholed through a pipe. When the journey ended he was in an entirely new location, and wasn’t entirely sure he wouldn’t feel sick.

"Apparating for the first time can often make one feel unwell,” Snape informed the doubled-over Tom in a way that didn’t signify he really cared.

As Tom regained his bearings, he thought for a moment, in the same way he quite liked the walk along the grounds, he probably would have rather enjoyed traveling across the countryside. It struck him, that, while this sort of travel certainly got the job done, if wizards had a type of travel more like flying; allowing one to see the view, but also get where they needed to go quickly, he would like to learn it.

The new location, however, was far drearier and less pleasing to the eyes. Rather than an enchanting (and probably enchanted) forest, bordering sunny grounds, and a castle whose majesty was unmatched (at least in his current memory), this was a grimy, cobbled street, like a dull pencil: grey, disappointing, and without its sharpness.

He was almost certain the place was non-magical in nature. He couldn’t believe anyone magical would allow their cities to collect this much grime and…boringness. Identical brick townhouses lined those streets, their chimneys spewing smoke into the air, causing a low cloud of what could be either smog or fog to hang over the place, making the air warmer and more humid than necessary. Snape’s house was the last in the row, (at least, he assumed it was Snape’s as it was the one they were heading towards), and across from it he could see a black river winding through the mist.

Snape flicked his wand, unlocking what was presumably his front door.

Often houses have a certain, indefinable smell to them, but when Tom stepped inside this one, he found it wasn’t so indefinable: parchment, and old shoes, and maybe a little bit of neglect.

He could have fooled himself into thinking he’d walked into a bookstore. The walls were lined with books, the sofa and armchair in the corner creating a false sense of coziness—(‘false’ because nothing about this man said ‘cozy’). It had the air of being one of those spaces that is cluttered, but to call it anything but ‘neat’ would be an insult. Like a library of a devout scholar: cluttered with knowledge, yet, despite the fact that the shelves are puking pages, it all seems somehow perfectly in place.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Snape said in a tone that told him he didn’t want him to be comfortable at all. “Take care not to touch anything that isn’t yours.”

Tom’s eyes lidded. “So…don’t touch anything at all?”

“You’re catching on.” Snape smirked.

Tom rolled his eyes, not entirely sure Snape was joking.

“I’ll show you to your room.”

The words ‘your room’ were clipped, like the thought that it would belong to him for even a summer was repulsive. Though Tom could tell that before they arrived.

He opened a small door in the wall, which Tom would have thought another room, or perhaps a closet, but turned out to be a set of stairs.

After journeying up them, a hallway whose wood was in dire need of staining, dusty portraits whose stern eyes followed him as he walked by, and a decorative table with an empty vase upon it, greeted him.

The advertised room was small, and a bit stuffy, and a few of the floorboards creaked, but something told him he’d slept in worse conditions before.

Though it was a small house, they were able to keep to themselves. Snape was busy resettling into his house, and disinclined to give him a tour, and Tom, not having much to get settled in the first place, spent the time exploring his new surroundings.

He wandered around the library that was the downstairs, and the dingy hallways that were the upstairs. He took care not to enter what he assumed to be Snape’s room, as well as a few other locked rooms. He didn’t want to get on his bad side…if he even had a good side.

He quickly found he didn’t mind being around books. He had affinity for them, especially when their contents had to do with magic.

“Are these all about magic?” He asked Snape when he passed by.

“Some of them. It may surprise you to find most of them aren’t.”

“May I read them?” He asked, remembering Snape’s warning not to touch anything, as well as the fact that this was a ‘trial period.’

“If you cannot find ways to entertain yourself.”

“I’m sure I can. But you seem like the kind of man who appreciates silence.” He put his hands behind his back and smiled too pleasantly.

Snape pursed his lip.

They spent their time regarding each other as wolves encroaching on each others territories: they weren’t happy to be sharing the same space, but they couldn’t do anything but growl low until one of them made a move.

Later, when Snape made dinner, the action drew his attention from his book. Tom watched with fascination as Snape waved his wand with ease, and the ingredients floated and melded together of their own accord, like Snape’s wand knew what to say to them.

“Will I be able to do that?”

“A whole world of magic and you want to be able to make dinner?”

“Well—” Annoyance flared in Tom. “Of course I’d prefer to know much more exciting, dangerous things…but yes”

“Children are not allowed to use magic outside of school until they come of age…but, yes.”

The word ‘children’ in that condescending tone didn’t make him feel less annoyed.

“How come I’m able to do it, then? You’re able to teach me during the summer.”

“Dumbledore has his ways.”

Tom could tell he wouldn’t get any more information than that.

While they ate, Tom chanced a few more questions, and was surprised to find that it tasted quite good, and he thought he remembered someone once telling him good food does wonders for the soul.

He was glad to find that, despite Snape’s obvious distaste for him, and seemingly all things his age, he was cordial enough, and he certainly didn’t mind keeping to himself.

Tom was just thinking about asking when he’d start learning magic that evening, when a stack of books almost as tall as him landed on the table.

Flicking his eyes across the titles, he saw that each and every one of them something to do with magic.

“I expect you to have these read before before Potter arrives. Only then will I start teaching you magic.”

Tom leaned to the side to look at Snape and tried not to smirk.

“You sure this is everything? It doesn’t seem like quite enough.”

[tony-is-my-daddy]

Hi guys! So this is my 1000th post on this blog. I cannot express how thankful I am to all of you who have followed me and still read and see and like all of my stupid posts. I see all of your likes and reblogs and tags and comments, it fills my heart with such great happiness, you all are awesome! I'm so glad I get to be in this amazing fandom, it kinda feels like a second family at this point.

Anyway, tumblr freaked out when I wanted to post the whole thing in one, so I will separate it into two parts. Enjoy part one.

Dream a little dream of me

Peter loved his job more than anything. Being a kindergarten teacher was great, he loved being around kids and he knew the feeling was mutual, most of his kids said he was their favorite teacher. He had so many of their drawings and crafts, he kept them in a special folder in his desk at home. It warmed his heart and made a huge smile stretch over his face when he saw another drawing made for him. He loved all of his students equally. Okay, that's what he told everyone, because he wasn't supposed to say the truth. He couldn't tell people he had a favorite, that was rude and Peter wasn't gonna disappoint his kids. But truth be told, the little girl with the chestnut hair and the sparkly brown eyes and pretty smile was his favorite one of them all.

Morgan Stark, the daughter of a single mother, famous CEO's of Stark Industries and ex-lovers, Pepper Potts and Tony Stark. Morgan had only been Peter's student for a month and she already managed to get into Peter's heart with her charm and her smile. During those first four weeks of the school year, he hadn't had a chance to meet the girl's father. Obviously, he knew who it was. Everyone did. But Peter was so excited to see the man because honestly, Tony Stark had been his biggest celebrity crush for as long as he could remember. The thirty-five years old genius was not just smart and rich, he was also very handsome.

So it was understandable if he forgot how to breathe for a second when he was just reading something while the kids played around, waiting for their parents, and Morgan suddenly yelled out in that angeling voice of hers, "Daddy!"

Peter's head snapped up. He looked at the man at the door as he leaned down and picked up the small girl, kissing her forehead before he sat her on his hip. Peter's jaw dropped and he just stared. Tony was... wow. He was so hot, even more so up close than he did in all those pictures and interviews Peter had seen him in.

"Daddy, look, there's Mr. Parker. He's the nicest teacher ever!" Peter had no idea how to react. He moved to stand up, but then sat back down again, thinking it would be too much. But when the older man approaced him, he stood up anyway.

"So you're the teacher this little one has been telling me about lately. Hello, I'm Tony Stark," the man said with a smile - wow, so that's where Morgan got her smile from - and reached out a hand for Peter. It took a moment for him to process what was going on, but then he shook Tony's hand with an awkward laugh.

"I know, sir. I'm Peter. Parker."

Tony smiled and let the handshake last for a second or two longer than a normal handshake would, but Peter didn't mind.

"Go collect your stuff, babygirl," Tony said and set Morgan down to run back to her classmates and collect her backpack. Then, his attention turned back to Peter, he was now smirking. "Well, Mr. Parker, my daughter seems to love you very much."

"Oh yes, I love her too, you know. She's such a sweet little girl. She became my favorite student recently." He added that last thing quietly so that the rest of the class didn't hear it.

"Oh really?"

"Yes, of course! She's very nice and smart, she probably got that from her dad."

Peter only realized what slipped from his mouth when he saw Tony's lips stretch into a grin. "You think I'm smart, Mr. Parker?"

"Obviously, you're a literal genius, sir. The smartest person of our generation."

"That's very flattering, Mr. Parker. Thank you."

"Please, call me Peter, sir."

"Then you should call me Tony."

Was this flirting? No, there was no way. Right? Tony Stark could've got anyone, lingerie models would hang off his shoulders if he just asked them to do so, so many people wanted to get him and out of them all, why oh why would he choose Peter Parker?

"O-okay. Tony," Peter said, his voice a bit shaky, unsure. Just then, Morgan appeared next to her father, clutching the straps of her Iron Man backpack with her little hands.

"Can we go now," she asked.

"Of course munchkin. Give daddy that backpack, there you go. Say goodbye to Mr. Parker."

"Bye Mr. Parker," she waved as they walked towards the door hand in hand.

"Bye Morgan," he waved as well with a smile. That little girl was so adorable.

The next day, Peter was not expecting Tony again to come collect Morgan, but it looked like neither did Morgan.

They were outside on the playground when Tony walked through the gates and Morgan frowned at her from the sandbox. "Daddy? Why are you here? Where's mommy?"

"Mommy's busy, Morguna. But I'm here, aren't you happy?"

"I am!"

Tony laughed, oh, what a sound. "Alright then, little bug, go get your backpack."

"Yes daddy!"

She was up soon, running through the playground to go back in the building, both Tony and Peter yelling after her to slow down. They looked at each other and laughed.

"We meet again," Tony said, taking a few steps closer towards Peter.

"Looks like it," he said, still smiling.

"How was she today?"

"Oh amazing, just like always. There was a little misunderstanding when Lori over there tried to take one of her toys, but we worked that out eventually."

"Great to hear that," Tony said. He took another step forward. They were now a bit closer than Peter should've been with one of his students' father. "I've wanted to ask, by the way, how old are you, Peter?"

It caught him off-guard a little, usually his kids' parents didn't ask how old he was. They asked about how their children behaved, obviously, but never about Peter. Why would he care about Peter?

"Oh I'm twenty-five, sir. Tony, sorry. Um... why are you asking?"

"I was just curious." Another step forward. Peter's heart was now starting to beat a little faster. "Are you, by any chance, interested in men? Because... I'd like to grab a coffee with you sometime, of course, only if you'd like that."

Well, if the age question caught him off-guard then imagine Peter after that. His eyes widened and he crossed his arms so he could pinch the skin on his upper arm unnoticeably, just to see if he was really not dreaming. But no, Tony Stark still stood in front of him, expecting an answer from him.

Peter swallowed, suddenly noticing how dry his mouth was, before he cleared his throat to speak up. "Like- like on a date?"

"Yes, pretty much. I don't really know if there's a rule against that but... I'd like to take you out sometime. If you want to, that is."

"Well, yeah, yes, sure," he said after a little hesitation. What the hell was he hestitating for? This was Tony fucking Stark himself! "When?"

"Well, here's my number," the billionaire said as he fished his phone out from his pocket, and so did Peter. His hand was shaking a little from how excited he was, which he hoped Tony didn't see. They looked at each other, Tony smirking a little when he asked if he can say it. Peter nodded and the older man told him his number and Peter wrote it in his contact list, naming him Tony Stark with all caps because how crazy was that?!

"Daddy, look, I drew something for mommy!" Morgan's voice startled them again and Peter put his phone away quickly.

"Very beautiful baby, she'll love it."

"I didn't draw anything for you," she said with a little pout.

"That's okay, my love, you'll draw something tomorrow," Tony said with a fond smile as he took ahold of Morgan's little hand.

"But mommy said he'd come for me tomorrow."

"Oh honey, I think mommy will be busy tomorrow as well." Tony glanced at Peter and winked before they turned around and walked through the gates, getting into a black car right outside. As they drove off, Peter's finger started to itch for his phone right away.

He didn't see Tony for a few days after that, even though he said he'd come for Morgan the day he gave him his number. Peter started to worry, thinking it was his fault, that he scared him off. It's been four days, including the weekend, and the older man didn't even try to call him.

Fuck, he didn't even get Peter's number! What if he was waiting for a text? Oh God, Peter was so dumb!

He then and there stopped planning tomorrow's classes and he grabbed his phone, opening the chat with Tony. His thumb danced over the screen for a few minutes, trying to decide what to write, trying to think of something nice and sweet, maybe a bit cheeky to make Tony smile. He wrote and deleted. Wrote and then deleted. Until he decided to just stick with the essentials, and he wrote a //very original// text.

Peter: Hi, it's Peter.

Peter: Parker.

He waited for a few minutes, anxiously staring at his screen for a while before he put it down and decided to make himself a tea to distract himself. He walked into his kitchen, filling the kettle with hot water and putting it on the stove to boil. And while his hands were occupied, his mind could do nothing but wander back to that man. He thought back to that day when he asked him out, when he stepped closer and closer to Peter, close enough to touch but he never did. He was too scared he'd come off as weird or eager if he touched him. After all, what kind of teacher touches his students' parents a day after meeting for the first time?

The water boiled soon and Peter poured some in his huge, colorful mug, placing the tea filter in it, a teaspoon of sugar and then he was back in his living room, grabbing his phone from his desk before he sat down on the couch. He checked if he got any messages. And in that very minute, his phone buzzed, making Peter jump and his phone almost fell out of his hand.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!"

Tony: Well hello Peter, you almost made me think you changed your mind about that date

Peter: No, of course not! I'd still very much like to go out with you

Oh wow, that seemed eager as hell. It dawned on Peter that maybe he should've waited at least a couple minutes before texting back, he now probably seemed so pathetic, like he waited for ten minutes staring at his phone and waiting for Tony to write back. He didn't have too much time to worry about that, because another text from Tony came through.

Tony: That's very good to hear, darling. So when are you free?

It was just as quick as Peter's response. Maybe Tony didn't care about how fast Peter texted back to him, maybe he just wanted to talk...

Peter: I'm free this weekend, Saturday if that's ok with you

Tony: That would be good for me too. Around 9 maybe?

Peter: Sounds perfect

Perfect? Why did he say perfect? "That's good," "that'll be nice," "okay," something simpler like that didn't go through your mind, Parker?! What the fuck is wrong with you?!

Tony: Then I'll see you in four days, Peter x

Peter: See you x

They really did that. They really just sent each other x's. Peter squealed a little as he put his phone down, jumping on his seat in excitement. He took a sip of the hot tea that's been resting on his coffee table since he made it, and turned on the TV. A silly romcom was playing, The ugly truth. Peter had seen it before, he liked it, mostly because he found Gerard Butler hot. What? He had a thing for older men.

So he settled down on the comfy couch, a blanket over him and the hot tea warming his icy fingertips as he watched the movie. And while he did, he still thought about Tony, and mentally, he was choosing an outfit for the occasion.

Two days later, on a rainy Wednesday when all of the kids were in the room, playing by themselves during the afternoon, Morgan walked up to Peter as he was talking to another student. She pulled him away and then showed him a drawing of hers.

"Wow, Morgan, that's so pretty! Who are these people," he asked, pointing at the stick figures on the paper.

"That's mommy, that's me, and that's you and daddy."

Peter's eyes widened. "Why me and daddy?"

"Because," she started fiddling with her hands dancing from side to side, "I told daddy I like you very much and he said he likes you too and he said he will take you on a date but I can't tell anyone but I wanted to tell you so please don't tell daddy I told you but he wants to take you on a date."

Peter chuckled, ruffling her brown hair. She looked so much like Tony. "It's okay, little one, I'm sure daddy won't be mad you told me. But don't tell anyone else if he doesn't want you to, okay?"

"Otay!"

"Will you go back to playing now?"

"Yes but I want you to have the drawing."

"I'll keep the drawing," he said with a warm smile and Morgan giggled happily before skipping away, back to her friends. Peter looked at the drawing for quite a while as he walked back to his desk, sitting on top of it. It was like any drawing done by a small child, but this was... somehow different. His kids often drew him and then gave the drawing to him, but this wasn't like that. Morgan drew her father, her mother, herself and Peter. She drew her family... and Peter.

"Hey," he heard a voice next to him and he looked up from the drawing in his hand. It was Tony. "I came for Morgan."

He came in so quietly, not even Morgan was aware that her dad walked into the room. She was playing along with her friends, her back turned to Tony and Peter.

"Hi," Peter greeted when he looked back at Tony.

"What are you looking at?"

"It's a- uh... Morgan drew this for me today." He put the drawing down on the desk facing downwards so that Tony didn't see it. "So you're taking dad duty today?"

"Sort of. Can I see the drawing?"

"Sort of? So you're just picking her up and then dropping her at her mom's house?"

"No, I'm taking her for dinner as well, but full dad duty is when she sleeps at mine. So the drawing-"

"How often does she sleep at yours?"

"Every second week, except for when I have busieness trips."

"I didn't see you last month at all, though."

"No, we left out a month, I had lots of things to do. I've missed her so much."

"I bet you did. I'd miss her too if I didn't get to see her for a month."

"So... can I see the drawing," he asked again.

"Morgan, look who it is!"

"Daddyyy!"

Tony tried to look at Peter angrily, but a smile spread over his face. "Cheeky," he said before turning around and crouching down in front of his daughter. "What's up Morguna? Are you ready for a fun afternoon?"

"Yeees!"

"Grab your jacket and your backpack and we can go." As Morgan ran away, he straightened up again and looked at Peter. "And you... I'll pick you up at 8:30 on Saturday, send me your address."

"Gladly," Peter chuckled.

After the Starks left, Peter turned the drawing up again and stared at it for a couple more minutes until another parent arrived to pick up their kid. He had no idea how to feel about being a part of their family just yet... but he very much liked the idea of Tony Stark.

A few days later, Peter was up at 7am, trying to choose between three outfits for his date that morning. The night before, he went through two facemasks, a hairwash and shaving as well (no, he wasn't about to get to business on the first date, but better be safe than sorry), so for the morning, all he had to do was get dressed and do his hair.

He may or may not had a little breakdown while trying to decide which outfit he wanted to wear, but that's normal, and at the end, he chose a V-neck burgundi shirt with jeans and a jacket. He styled his hair perfectly (thank the hair gods for that, he had never managed to do that before), and panicked when his doorbell buzzed.

"Parker, who is this?"

"Tony."

"You said you'd text before you left and called when you got here!"

"Wanted to surprise you."

"Oh my God, be glad I'm ready anyways, otherwise you'd be in trouble."

Tony laughed. "Alright, Cinderella, come down and show me yourself."

Peter smiled and grabbed his keys and wallet from the kitchen counter before heading out.

"Wow," Tony mumbled when they finally met in front of the building. "Didn't think you could look better."

Peter blushed. "Thank you." The man in front of him was wearing a button up and black jeans, a jacket casually thrown over his shoulders. He looked so effortlessly good, the kind that would get up from bed and just look sexy as ever. "You look great, too."

"Why thank you, angel. Shall we go?"

"Oh yes, of course! Where are we going?"

"I wanted to take you somewhere further away but I saw a very cute café not far away, we could walk there," Tony said as he took ahold of Peter's hand and wrapped it around his arm to lead him. Wow, no one has ever done that to Peter before.

"That's my favorite place!"

"I assumed," Tony commented with a triumphant smirk.

"Since when do you teach kindergarteners?"

"I started about three years ago, I graduated early."

"And why this career?"

Peter chuckled. He often got that question. "I think it's one of the most important jobs, to raise the next generation well. If you don't do it right then humanity will just get more and more screwed up."

"Fair point."

Peter then turned the question around. "And why guns?"

Tony sighed. "It was my dad's legacy. He wanted me to carry on with it, so I did, and I didn't see anything wrong with it until..."

He knew Tony was talking about the time he got kidnapped by the Ten Rings and became Iron Man. That was when Peter really started looking up to the man, he thought it was a very heroic move and he wasn't sure if he'd have had the balls to give up his job to be a superhero and fight people.

"I'm sorry for bringing it up."

"No, it's okay, I just don't talk about this on the first date," he dodged with a joke. Peter laughed and happily changed the subject before it got too much for Tony.

After the short walk, they entered the café and ordered two coffees and pastries for each of them. As they had their breakfasts (at least that's what it was for Peter), they talked about movies, and turns out they were both huge fans of retro sci-fis and action movies. Peter also mentioned that he liked romcoms and after a while, Tony admitted that he "kinda likes them" as well. It was sweet to see this man, a billionaire genius superhero, open up and show Peter his soft side.

But the softest side of Tony came through when Peter asked about Morgan.

"Me and my back then secretary, Pepper had this crazy night. We were both drunk and somehow she just got pregnant. At first we really panicked, but now, we wouldn't have in otherwise. This little sunshine is really the highlight of our lives, she's so chatty and so cute. And I hate watching Disney movies every single night when she's over, but that would be the smallest sacrifice if it meant I could have her over all the time." He showed Peter hundreds of images of her on his phone and Peter's heart melted more and more from every picture. The drawing that the little girl gave him on Wednesday popped into his mind again and now he saw it from a slightly different perspective...

They didn't even notice how quick the time went as they talked, it was like they'd only just met up in front of Peter's building, but when he caught a glimpse of Tony's Rolex, he saw that they've been there for over two hours. He mentioned it to Tony, who laughed and offered Peter a walk home, which he gladly accepted. The older man didn't let him pay the bill either, even though Peter said multiple times that he doesn't expect Tony to buy everything for him. He just insisted.

"I had a lot of fun today, Peter," Tony said as they were heading back to Peter's apartment, this time with not only their arms wrapped around the other's, but holding hands. It felt so natural to hold the man's hand, it made Peter feel somehow... safe.

"So did I. Maybe we could do it again sometime?"

"Oh yeah, I'd like that a lot. Maybe a proper dinner next time?"

Peter raised an eyebrow. "Will you let me pay for at least half of the bill?"

"You're going out with a billionaire and you seriously want to pay the bill?"

"Yes! I'm not going out with you for your money, Tony. I want you to know that. So next time, you'll let me pay."

"If that's what you really want then okay."

When they got back to Peter's apartment, Tony took the younger man's chin between his fingers and tilted it to the side so he could kiss his cheek. Peter blushed deeply and smiled awkwardly. "Thank you so much for today, Peter. I'll see you later."

"Thank you as well. See you."

He watched Tony get in his car before he opened the door, getting in as he heard the engine start. He waved through the window at Tony as he drove away before twirling around twice. Something so unlike life just happened to him and if he was dreaming, he'd give everything for it to never end.

@staticwhispersinthedark wanted to be tagged so here you go!

[seb-owns-these-tatas]

Witcher of the Night (Chapter 18)

THIS IS MODERN ERA READER WHO WOKE UP IN THE DIMENSION OF THE WITCHER.

UPDATES FOR WITCHER OF THE NIGHT WILL BE PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY NOW IN MY TIME (GMT +8)

CHAPTER 17

WOTN MASTERLIST

Characters: Geralt of Rivia x small!Naive!Reader

Summary: The Djinn effects had reasons. A miracle for the Witcher but a threat for everyone in the Continent and this mystery had you placed under a curse that will give you bad fortune for you future and a child that he sorceress plans on ruining. 

Warnings: Mention of MCU. Iron man too. Blood. Witcher monster and sign. Curse words and degrading ones. Corporal punishment said and involved. 

Words: 8.4k+

A/N: Ghost readers, please do reblog my fic if you’re reading this so others can see it as well. Also people who are in my taglist, I hope you leave even just an emoji of feedback or reblog if you’re done reading. I appreciate the tiniest dot of comment ISTG. I’ve been in a writer’s block (and also mentally exhausted from writing too) but I’m trying my best to give y’all content or an update for WOTN. My mind has been jumping from one character over another so feedback will be nice to receive. Thank you and stay safe.

TAGLIST IS STILL OPEN FOR THIS ONE! Heehee! Don’t forget to REBLOG, COMMENT OR GIVE FEEDBACK IF YOU DID LOVE THIS CHAPTER! IT’LL MAKE ME SMILE! Sorry for the grammatical errors and such because English isn’t my mother tongue! PLEASE LEAVE FEEDBACK AFTER READING, BB! This is kinda a rough draft. I apologize for many errors, this has been a result of fast editing.

Disclaimer: PNG’s and pictures used in edits are not mine even the GIF’s too. However, the edits and this fanfic is definitely from moi. 

MY WORKS ARE NOT NOT NOT NOT NOOOOOOT TO BE POSTED ON ANY OTHER WEBSITES. My official username in Wattpad is “TATATHEPOTATO” and that’s the only other site I have for writing aside from Tumblr. Thank you, Tater tots!

The Kaedwenians had the last laugh.

Jaskier couldn't keep you safe from anyone, not even a tiny fly. All he could do was be a distraction and be the special wingman for a witcher. But, when it's about protecting the ones he takes care of, Geralt has always been the answer to keep one safe---that he couldn't even take care of himself when he's caught in his shenanigans and monkey businesses.

His mutant friend could always be counted on, by hook or by crook.

Yet, he certainly will disappoint him when he knows what threat and problems happened after a day; only a darn day that he was away and kidnapping arose and hindered everything that the witcher wanted to avoid.

How did they know where his family even were?

Jaskier was limping alongside with Cirilla who has hauled him on her side, an arm slithering over his waist to drag him to where the dining chairs where. One out of ten? hence, this particular sunflower surrounded by a bunch of poison Ivy has been a bard all along.

Sunflowers don't have thorns nor poison. They were harmless. Soft. Bright. Just like him. But, the bees surely did its attack considering how he'd sliced two men on their necks. Nonetheless, it wasn't enough to keep you out of harm.

"Those bloody knights did a number on me!" he suddenly exclaimed out of nowhere; wincing and grumbling out profanities from his wounds as Cirilla went around to grab onto an empty pail, sprinting straight out to quickly come back with her bucket full of water for the bard.

Dried up blood designed his busted lip; plump and ruptured from the constant clouts he'd received. His lower lip were out in a pout, frowning his way from lightly tapping his wounds with a clean cloth; holding up a small mirror to his face. Disheveled doublet untied, the collar of his inner white tunic being a sketchpad of a kid who loved his red paint. Another nasty curse accidentally slipped out of his broken lip when Cirilla loudly dropped the bucket on the table with an obvious sight of panic, fright and anger written on her face.

Her thin, candle-like fingers slightly trembled from the handle and Jaskier had gotten a glimpse out of her fear, terrified for an important person in her life to be in the brink of death. Again. She didn't want it to happen especially when the princess has finally found comfort and light from you; like how her heart hoped to meet a woman who she could treat as her rightful mother.

She didn't want you to die; not like this, never. If only you could live long enough, longer than a normal human then it would be a part of her wishes.

"W-Will she be okay, Jaskier?"

Jaskier was hissing as he tried to take off his doublet. In his unfortunate case, he'd probably earned a fracture or two over his ribs and arm. But, it was far from any organ that will give him demise. He'd thought about it again before deliberating on leaving it on to continue patting the blood off his face, "No. I swear to the death of Valdomarx that the rat will not be fine in their hands, Princess Cirilla."

The bard went on in jawing away over his thoughts with some painful complaining here and there as he tried to wipe the blood off his face with a heavy amount of strength used because of how his arms were sore and aching, "Ow-ow-ow! Geralt needs to give what they want. However, going to the south swamps will be the only solution to alert the witcher,"

Jaskier tutted in exasperation when his dampened cloth grazed through the wound, making him sigh and close his eyes to calm down. The child has done the same, copying his reaction before reaching out to grab onto the cloth and tried cleaning his wounds for herself. He bellyached away over how she's been cleaning the wrong places but a simple sharp, warning of her blue eyes kept the toubadour fidgeting from the child care.

"It's been how many hours already since she was taken?" he sounded incoherent from trying to talk with his mouth never closing as Cirilla tried to pat over the pillows of his lips. She made him repeat his question, moving away from him to dip the cloth inside the bucket and squeezing the excess water out.

When she'd heard him repeat it much clearer this time, she thought for a second before turning her heel to face him again, raising a finger to show him the time it took.

"An hour or two."

He weakly nodded more to himself. The accident was utterly fresh inside their minds and Jaskier couldn't help but worry as the clock ticks by because he knew and understood that the people in their world were more cruel and grating to be with than in your kingdom that you have lived in for years, the bard was anxiously bouncing his leg up and down with his thoughts and solutions going in places.

"We can't go to where Geralt is tomorrow," he noted as a matter of fact, pausing to glare at Cirilla who leaned close and started caring for his wounds with heavy hands, "---all we can ever hope for is wait for the gods plan. Hush now, princess."

In Cirilla's point of view, hearing his response drove her bananas. They just couldn't wait for Geralt to arrive when he'll be taking up three days before telling him what has happened. What if you were already being punished because of their false accusations about you? Geralt's child of surprise has heard everything. Even from the time that the troopers has been kicking up a fuss over the woman named Savia that looked entirely like you.

She'd even saw the fight between Kolby; seeing him run away so suddenly broke her heart as much as yours did. Will he ever come back? the princess thought at the back of her mind from overrating. Will you ever come back to their lives again or will Geralt be too late to save you from their dirty hands?

The lion cub of Cintra has pulled away from treating Jaskier's wounds, straightening her back when she began to let the negative thoughts go to her head.

"How about Kolby? I---I've seen him run away!"  

Jaskier grabbed the cloth out of her hands, trying to sanitize his wounds instead. He'd tightly blinked his eyes, the left side utterly benumbed from their sucker-punches and he knew a black eye would come forth soon whether he likes it or not. The bard wasn't even on an adventure with the witcher, yet why has there been an incident where he'd been belaboured till he was bleeding with a hobble.

"He'll come back, dearest Cirilla. We can only hope for the best and also for Geralt to do his witchering---the heightened senses, I mean. Do you think his hearing can reach from here?"

They've been surrounded by silence after that. It was already morning by the time that Cirilla has successfully helped the bard to his feet, earning minutes of pure inveighs against what they've done and why Geralt decided to leave earlier than they have arrived. Their house was left as it is and it seemed like the only job that they needed to do was hold you ransom for what they wanted from the witcher because they knew what was happening beyond the four corners of their house.

The Kaedwednians have acted like they knew you were important to their family; beneficial to be taken for hostage and a crucial person for Geralt that would make him cave in to their desires.

Hence, they probably were right when Jaskier and Cirilla has heard the fast, pitter-patters of a horse from a distance; riding towards the house in a canter. Geralt's family looked at each other with knowing faces before Cirilla's face fell from thinking about the pessimist side of her head.

"I--I hear galloping!" she exclaimed before Jaskier noted the pale look of her lips like she has been thrown a bucket of ice on her head, "---What if its them again?" her lips began to tremble this time with a high pitch tone that says she was nervous and scared because she wasn't ready yet.

"What if they're back to capture me this time?"

They have been living in a world that scares her and when the right time comes, Geralt promised to take her where she'll be trained better to become like him for when danger and chaos tries to make them stay, the princess will know how to defend herself from the risks and threats. But, the witcher would still protect her no matter what happens because it is his duty and also because she has already been an adopted daughter to him. A daughter that he cherishes despite acting cold and dispassionate about the idea.

You knew she was important to him, a daughter that he somehow cared for from the moment they met. Geralt has told you this in the middle of the night, trying to tell you stories as he slept, managing to ask him about Cirilla and how she was involved in his life. The witcher never did plan it along but their destiny has made it happen for them to meet. She was the girl in the woods that people have been telling him about and the law of surprise that he has given voice that had you in awe because their world consists of beliefs and preternatural principles that never existed on earth.

Jaskier felt like his whole body grow numb and forgotten what the pain that the cavaliers has inflicted upon him when he suddenly stood up, apprehensively grabbing onto Cirilla's shoulders and looking around to find her somewhere to hide.

The heavy set of footfall started to tread near, out of the threshold of their front entry. With a swollen face and bloody clothes, he grabbed onto her wrist and tried to pull her out of the kitchen and onto the back door of their house with a need to keep another person safe and away from danger. They've already taken you and Cirilla was out of bounds.

"No. No. That can't happen. They have no idea who you are. Run in the woods. Away from here, alright? Don't worry, I'll get to find you---Geralt will find you again, I promise you---has he taught you little tricks here and there? If not---"

The loud crash of a door opening has got Jaskier in full-protective mode; pulling along Cirilla to stand behind him with a hand outstretched open in front of him to tell this person to stop from their attacks. Until they've seen a person whom they were praying to the gods appear before them utterly shambolic to their shock.

"Geralt?! Oh dear, gods! What happened?!" Jaskier yelled out loud, their breaths hitching from the picture that stood before them.

Geralt's ruined armor was off; keeping the black under tunic on that has been torn with holes. The openings held blood under the apertures of his ravaged shirt. His face seeming to be the only one left untouched from the burns and wounds. His hair was dirty from soot and darkened, moist like sand but his breeches has been surprisingly free from the scratches that his upper clothing has received from.

Cirilla couldn't help but feel the warm, hazy moisture of her eyes fill her vision from seeing him stand in the middle of their hatch, the fish bones that stuck inside her chest finally breaking free from Geralt's appearance because hope has arrived for them.

"Geralt! You're here!"

The latter couldn't believe his eyes. They were safe. His family was safe from the show that the Kaedwenians tried to scurry them off with.

Relief washed through Geralt, his Aureate peepers widened from being stunned at seeing them both.

"Jaskier. Cirilla. You're both okay." he stated in a monotone manner, his gaze examining their forms when he'd realized Jaskier has been beaten to pulp.

The hold on his sword that rested on his palms tightened from seeing red. If there was blood involved, then something bad has happened especially when he'd lately realized that his family was missing one special person that came with the ménage he had.

You. There was no midget. Were you just hiding in a corner? Trying to be playful like the person you are? Where you hiding upstairs and planning to surprise him?

Jaskier paid heed to his sudden silence, the peeved look within his eyes that held a flicker of catastrophe because he couldn't see his midget with them.

He didn't know nor realize that seeing you gone like you never existed felt like an Nightwraith has tried to rip his heart open and eat it to their satiation.

Cirilla sprinted to where Geralt stood, immediately wrapping her arms around her step-father that she also holds dearly till the moment; she'd hug him, the embrace simply an allegation of fear, telling him that it was the right thing to come back earlier than they expected him to.

"I'm so glad you're here!"

The witcher wholeheartedly accepted the embrace, patting her head that was shoved to his chest despite of the wounds he has; just thoroughly relieved that she wasn't taken. His sword fell on the side with a loud thud as he'd look away from Jaskier, his eyes shifting from high and low, finding the Hirikka not in his place under the dining table as well.

"The midget? where is she?"

Howbeit, knowing the answer. He still wanted to hear what happened from the poor bard.

Jaskier subtly coughed, alerting that his tale was ready to be told. But, Cirilla has cut him off with her voice bawling out to Geralt, frowning against his chest as she loudly sniffed. The tears in her eyes dripping down as she couldn't help but keep the emotions balled up inside her chest anymore. Shock. Fear. Worry. Care. All together, it was brought and made with tears.

"Th-they've...they've taken her away from us! She saved my life for the second time, Geralt! You owe her everything!"

Geralt didn't answer at that and just patted her braided hair to soothe her worries---her braided hair that you have fixed before being taken. He was already too maddened on the inside to even hear that Jaskier began to start his story.

"So, do you want a simplified version or the dramatic one? I hear you choose the second option, so here it is!"

Cirilla sobbed against his chest when Jaskier started. His thoughts was filled with you. He was angry, irritated and dumbfounded that you've been offering your life in exchange for Cirilla to be safe. You always did. Hence, he didn't know if he was thankful of your selflessness or utterly vexed from how kind you were at heart.

"Fuck." he whispered to himself, Jaskier's voice going on and on in the background as if it was their music, his next words sounding exasperated as he simply sighed out of his nose and closed his eyes in frustration.

"---Midget..."

Jaskier was unaware that Geralt wasn't listening to his nonsense blabbers until he got straight to the point. He'd even told him how he rearranged and hid the bowls where you couldn't find it which made the witcher give him a simple raise of his brow.

Cirilla cut the hug when she was feeling dandy enough. Geralt gave her one final reassuring and affectionate pat on the head before grabbing on his fallen sword with a scowl on his face as he listened to Jaskier run his mouth.

"---So, I've been punched in the gut from different kind of Cavaliers. The Kingdom of Kaedwen can suck my arse---I've learned that from the rat by the way---and I've bled to the end of my second life. Hence now, this is my third---Hallelujah!---Kolby listens and follows every command but he's gone now and we don't know where he is---even tried to save me and her but the vampire is too strong---not that it isn't surprising,"

The simple action of grabbing onto his sword inflicted pain onto the fairly large wound on his lower rib which made him hiss. It was from the burning blood of the Bloedzuiger that he somehow managed to not shield himself with; forgetting to use Quen in the midst of battling.

"Tybalt." he understood completely, knowing exactly who tried and planned to get you from him for their use. They still haven't found the witch and needed to find her as soon as possible. Geralt wandered over the kitchen, closing the door behind him as he lowly grumbled to no one in particular.

"---They still want me to lift the curse. They want me to kill their monster,"

Their ears perk from the admission; watching the witcher peel his damaged under tunic off with an aggravated sigh as he stood in front of the dining table. He'd taken a lot more injuries than he most likely does; even had his energy spike to its lowest due to wanting to get the job done in less than half an hour. Hence, this resulted in accepting more wounds and detriments by rushing the whole task.

Geralt has already taken potions for him to heal on the way. Some of the smallest wounds has been healed. Though, the deepest wounds did not yet. It would certainly earn him a scar or two from it but he never cared.

"You're bleeding, Geralt. Where are you going?" Jaskier sauntered to his side with a wince from seeing more blood than what he normally sees, Cirilla also pulled a face and watched the witcher heavily sigh from examining his opened wounds. He deeply had a grimace on his face as he does when he tried to explain.

"It's from the Bloedzuiger's blood," he gruffly muttered, only answering the troubadour's first question.

His talkative friend circled around him to be met with the nastiest laceration that he has seen. Jaskier's nose scrunched in repugnance from what stood before him for the first time in years, "You've never taken enough damage like this before," he claimed as a matter of fact; in deep conjecture as to why he seemed to be in adrift prior to his hunt.

Geralt's attention was solely on the gash that could make him lowly groan in the back of his throat; rough and sounding uncomfortable from the pain it was giving.

"Jaskier, stay with Cirilla. Keep hidden and never go out until I come back with the midget," he gruffly started when the princess has rushed upstairs to find gauze to help with his lesions.

The Weccan leaned over the table, his palms on either side; flat on their wooden dining table with his ruffled hair framing his features and his head bowed down as he deeply pondered, his worries all about you because they've kept you ensnared. They knew he would come for you. They knew they will be expecting a witcher to welcome and they were right.

"---we can't leave the midget within their reach. They'll know her existence---Ingrith of Helmfirth already knows her existence,"

The bard's eyebrows were knitted tightly together in confusion for what he has heard, stammering from all the questions inside his head that kept on bothering him. He leaned on the table beside Geralt, bright blue eyes inquisitive and confused, "What? how---how did you even know she was gone? I thought you didn't know the sorceress?"

"The Djinn placed the midget and I in a spell where I can feel what she feels and I knew she was in danger,"

Jaskier gave a hesitant nod, deliberating over what he's trying to figure out from all the phenomenon that he has encountered, "Like some curse?"

Geralt shot his head up to nonchalantly give him a glimpse of his convinced golden peepers, pursing his lips, looking away to stand straight and lean away from the table.

"If you put it that way, we can call it a curse then."

The white wolf left Jaskier in the kitchen and drifted towards the stairs, making him trail behind; walking with a phrase of protests over the half naked witcher taking his flight.

"We need to treat those wounds before you step foot in the castle, Geralt."

There was no need to beat behind the bushes in Geralt's protective instincts. Specifically when you were in a risk to be hurt by their filthy hands. He took the staircases with his heavy footfall, roughly reassuring the bard from his worries.

"Already did. I'll be fine, bard."

Once they've reached the second floors, all wounded and bloody; both Geralt and Jaskier, they stood in the middle of the wooden hallways. Eye to eye as they were having a serious talk. Their voices echoing all over the place, "She saved Cirilla's life for the second time around," Geralt huffed and gave one seething sigh when the pain on his lower rib was burning. He certainly needed them to gauze his wounds before leaving.

"---even helped you forget about that knight you were fond with. I need to save her,"

Jaskier's mouth fell open from his bluntness, believing that you have been used as a person to forget his previous ones. He'd wiggled those slim shoulders of his, hands on his hips and keeping his head held high. A fake cough left his lips, thinking of ways to get back from being attacked figuratively by Geralt for a lot of times already.

"I won't let another slip away again, Jaskier."

Jaskier raised a knowing brow, sharing a bloody compact with the witcher as they stood against each other dripping with their own wounds and blood; an understanding that they both could only comprehend and would silently agree to, "I understood Durriken now," he gave a firm nod, convincing himself for his sentences.

Geralt squinted his eyes back at the bard, judging him from the back of his head and reading between his lines.

Jaskier talked to Durriken when they've left the other day. He tried to know what they've talked about because the bard was full aware of how the switch has turned inside Geralt's peculiar, introverted mind from that moment in the marketplace.

Durriken knew before everything could even happen---perks of being a fortune teller, believing that you had a reason why you've arrived.

Jaskier raised a finger to his front, a sassy brow raised as he firmly claimed, "She's the witcher's destiny. The reason she's here is because..." pause. "---of you, Geralt."

Julian just couldn't keep still and watch everything unfold. He knew Geralt and what ticks him, understood the simplest gestures that had a whole lot of meaning behind it. Jaskier can't help but pry around when it involved the white wolf.

This was why he was the bard who stood by his side because he tried to understand him for who and what he was. A person who truly cared, a friend who truly accepted him; though, most of the times, he was there to annoy the shite out of him.

"And that's why she needs to be saved. I can't let her die, Bard." Geralt honestly spoke, the truth being said rather than staying silent like how he would usually do.

The bard has given him a satisfied smile, his beam widening once he jested, "Oooooooh! I've waited for this moment to come so I can finally say it after decades---In other words," he playfully bantered, finding the right words to get back for receiving his bluntness, "---you love her, Witcher. Don't you?"

Cirilla held the ripped, long, white clothing to her chest. The door to her room slightly opened as she tried to listen onto what they were arguing about, they weren't. The word 'love' peaking her attention when Jaskier lightly tried to poke on Geralt's honesty, irking him to the bones and hoping to get something out of his sudden uprightness.

Lo and behold, as soon as the witcher opened his pretty mouth, they were left disappointed from a hum that he'd habitually does everyday when he wanted to stay silent.

"Hmm."

Retrieving no answer from such an important, scandalous question that would be a fact once it was positively answer; a simple 'yes' would've been evidence that the white haired witcher was actually capable to experience a certain feeling that would make him more human than he can ever be.

All you could see was darkness. No visions nor imagery of where you were going as an empty sack has been forcefully placed around your head. Tybalt has kept you immobilized within his arms that surrounded you. The sack was needed so there was no risk of escaping which can happen if you knew your ways just like their previous capture who happened to be a thief that knew the directions of the kingdom.

The sack was tightened around your neck, making you choke once they roughly shoved your shoulders to move as you were curtly placed down by the vampire. Pavement. Rock pavement. You silently thought as you felt rough hands grip your arms so tight. On either side, they were controlling you and assuming who they were; you knew it was cavaliers.

The gates seem to open as you've heard the loud screeching of a sound. A couple of harsh tugs; here and there. Some offending remarks you've received when you tried to thrash against their holds. They were calling you 'the witcher's whore' or his tramp that made you frown behind the empty sack of potatoes used for your head.

Footfalls can be heard all around you. They were everywhere and all heavy, marching as if they have a purpose as to why they were there. There was no idea as to where they tried to confine you; in a large cage? a building where all their prisoners are there in jail? or were you in a castle? their palace?

The men on either side of you dragged you strengthfully towards where they wanted; making you bark back despite of being temporarily blind for their purpose.

"I know how to walk, okay?! Stop dragging me around like I'm your rag doll!"

Tybalt loudly scoffed from behind, walking through the stoned hallway that directed straight towards the hoosegow where an Elven has been kept for a month, "Prisoners shan't be complaining, ye' know?"

A loud thump and squeaking of a door made you hastily look around in panic; thinking that you might be thrown in a huge fireplace so your body can be burnt to dust because they knew your existence here didn't actually existed and if you do get to be cremated, nobody would even care.

Will Geralt try and save you for the third time?

From the day that you have been taken and cared for in their home, it was already an act of protection. He didn't think twice to adopt and let you have a part of their house; saving you from an Alghoul who was hunting you down and planning to make you its meal. But, Geralt killed it for you.

The white wolf has even killed men for you to feel sympathy for. When Geralt of Rivia protects one person, he would surely not think twice but to put an end towards their life; as long as they were evil or hurting another.

He was one of a kind and the affection you have for him needed label. You were understanding everything now; the care and worry you feel whenever he goes for his hunt, how the sting feels inside your heart whenever he tends to become a lot more quieter rather than usual, thinking that he was avoiding you because he'd realize how much of a burden you are in his life.

Also considering the feeling of happiness whenever he sweetly touches you, feeling his skin on yours like it was destined for sensations to occur. Sensations that only he can transpire out the the earth's perimeters.

You comprehended it very patently. It was love that you had for him. You hoped it was because lust or infatuation never has given the effects like what you've been interpreting from the witcher.

No secrets can't be revealed as long as it was true especially with undisclosed matters. Hence, you planned to tell Geralt as soon as you get to see him again.

That is, if your future around the Kaedwenians won't involve you and death rolled together as one.

Their tight grip has made your arms sore. You were flailing your arms away from their grasp and the violent reaction that they have gotten from resulted in you being pushed to the ground, creating your healing gash with another deep wound that made you yelp. They've quickly yanked the sack off your head; all unkempt from being cramped, hurriedly keeping you inside the slammer as they marched away to lock up the thick, metal railings like you've committed such a harsh crime.

You've held onto your scrapped knee, seeing blood on the pads of your finger and it made you aggressively scream from where you've laid hunched over the cold stones beneath you; igniting the tiny, surprised jump from the knights who were guarding your cell.

The tight coil on the top of your stomach was starting to move; meaning to say, another panic-attack was starting to give rise because of how uncomfortable and eerie does it felt to be in jail from the past era. It was more ominous and uncanny rather than what jail looked like in the modern period.

You were heaving breaths, turning around and staying flat on your bottom to see the armored men squinting their eyes back like you were some weird creature, the notion of being Geralt's lover sickening their bones as if they were much of a better man than he is. They weren't. Geralt was better than them---soul-wise. Their gauging eyes made you giggle aloud in a sarcastic tone.

"I can't believe you are all actually humans---"

The lock of the door jiggled, people behind the entrance loudly pushing it open; in which Tybalt and a lady with glowing purple eyes emerged from the hatch.

"My lady," Tybalt started with a sultry tone dripping on his tongue, subtly nodding his head off to where you were hunched over.

This woman in front of you didn't look entirely human after all, you mentally thought. Glowing purple eyes; with her shoulders rolled back with a head held up high, such stance that made her look powerful. It was enough to make you cower.

She was a beauty even. Utterly bewitching from a woman's perspective. A high bridged nose, glassy dark skinned complexion that came with a pouty lip. The grotesque woman was enchanting in the eyes of men if her physical aspects could make you dumbfounded.

"Incredible." the latter spoke in fascination, taking heedful steps close amongst the lines of metal hinges. The luminescence of a torch has caught her purple eyes, glowing against the light as if magic was flowing through her veins; utterly strange because no normal human had eyes like hers, nor have you seen one in Geralt's dimension up until today.

"Another...you," she continued, her eyes cast upon you when she took heed of your familiar face.

"---It's true. There has always been another dimension,"

You've looked around, avoiding her discretionary gaze, a gaze that held corruption or malign beneath the colorful hue of her beautiful colored irises. They were winsome; however, her allurement came with a thorn that would surely make you bleed when touched.

"I'm..I'm not---"

Straightforwardly, she pointed out with a silent and warning tut, "There is no use of lying, little one. You are talking to a sorceress,"

As that has been mentioned, you couldn't help but snap your head and turn to look at her. Your eyebrows knitted together with eyes scrutinizing her features. Was she the sorceress that Geralt has been in love with? you questioned mutely to your alter ego. Ingrith was hasty enough to know that judging look in your eyes because of how your witcher has been involved with sorceresses after sorceresses or mutant and mystical beings.

He was known for it and based on how you were judging her, your mind was also well aware of how infamous he had been with women.

Geralt of Rivia was given a lot to choose. Yet, he has chosen a powerless, vulnerable, less of a beaut than what he would've picked and Ingrith wanted to laugh for his choices---what he planned to be destined with a dangerous life ahead.

"You're the Yennefer one?"

"How do you know her, thief?"

An obvious shake of your head was given; shaking the worry away from seeing Geralt's long lost love working in a castle and also for the queen and king. That wasn't just the reason why you didn't want to see Yennefer anymore, another justification as to why you didn't want to was because of the bigger chances that you would be going home in one way or another when the white wolf wanted to because there was no proof or evidence that he wouldn't send you home. Sure, he has said several times already that you were his home---however, what if his feelings changes especially that his relationship with the sorceress has been ruined from a certain fight you didn't know about?

Did Geralt feel the same way about you? Was it love or merely just infatuation?

"Nevermind. You're not her." pause. "---also, why are you calling me a thief, lady?!"

Your eyebrows knotted closer than ever from her assumptions. It wasn't just Tybalt or his goons calling you a thief, even the sorceress too. Ingrith pulled away from the bars, dusting her gloved hands from the dust that was transferred to her leather mittens like the people sitting behind closed bars were infectious. She'd given Tybalt a look, her face indistinct of what she wanted to feel for seeing the real you.

She ignored your yapping as she asked the vampire beside her, "Are you sure she's destined with the witcher as a lover?"

Tybalt gave her a small nod, arms crossed in front of his chest as he watched you give him a glare back, "Yes, my lady. Last time I stabbed the little woman, the witcher was all feral, ye' know? It was quite fun to watch, nevertheless. This whore seems to be very important for him,"

"He'll be coming then."

Your knotted eyebrows suddenly went up your hairline at that. She sounded too enthusiastic for Geralt to come by; her voice masking a mixture of anticipation for seeing him and also hoping for something else when he arrives. It was a tone that only women could understand in their own language and you couldn't help but go livid.

She wanted something from your witcher and it doesn't look nor does it feel right because you could sense your eye twitch.

"Hey, sorceress of doom. I'm not a child. My womanhood is fully developed if you wanna know because you sound like you're insulting my height---thank you very much because that wasn't a first---Also, you sound like you want to fuck my witcher!---My witcher!" you bluntly stated, the tip of your tongue feeling vile and bitter from the truthfulness of your words. Jealousy being the root of it all and probably intimidation over this sorceress.

She wasn't that Yennefer yet. What if it was her already?

"---Find your own witcher! He's coming to save me, not give you a rumpy pumpy while you are all keeping me in prison!"

Ingrith could feel her temples have gotten flicked from that. Your attitude was making her blood boil---a know-it-all in a world you hardly knew about. She was beginning to come to a realization that your mouth needed barricade, it needed to know where you stood because apparently, she was having the upper hand and you were munching on her toe figuratively.

"Are you sure about that?" Ingrith spoke as a matter of fact; her lips curling into a sinister grin and this is what gets her going, "---you sound like you don't know your witcher too well, child."

"---You haven't heard the truest tales of him then. Your witcher loves to bed women in all brothels---Witchers leave all the time because that's what they do. They travel anywhere to hunt monsters,"

Your mouth was ready to throw curses after curses. A few steps close toward the bars made her grin wider to see your tough facade falter in the tiniest, seeing it from behind those confused eyes of yours. A mixture of fighting for what you had with a self destructing insecurity that makes you overthink of the future despite not talking it through with your mutant of a lover.

Ingrith didn't back down to that fight you have been mentally trying to assault as she was wiser to knowing your existence had a count down with them around.

She only needed to know where the portal was; options would be a sorceress back in your world which transported you to the continent. Second is a physical egress that has been never found nor discovered by anyone yet. From your kingdom to theirs. It wouldn't just be a theory because when the conjunction of spheres started, all hell broke lose in the continent. So, the idea wasn't completely a hypothesis that didn't hold zero percent chances of it.

All Ingrith needed was evidence and she will surely get the answers out of you even if she'll be using corporal punishments---even to the point of drawing blood until you say words she wanted to hear.

The sorceress began to wind you up a lot more, finding amusement from the reactions and tiny twitches of your face which tells how upset you are as she ran her mouth with endless gibes, "---your beloved Witcher can't be satisfied with one woman in all his life especially with a human like you because one ages slower over the other."

She crouched before you behind bars, gritting her teeth together like a feral hound trying to mark up his or her prey.

"You don't have magic. You aren't mutated and you die like normal men," Ingrith seethed, her eyes piercing and full of hatred towards you.

---Or maybe from mankind itself. You tried to understand where she was coming from or what she was taking a stand to. The sorceress in front of you thinks of herself as if she is higher than most human alive and probably a power-hungry feline where she would take revenge on whoever has hurt her.

It was that, or she just thinks she's above all because of the power and magic that she has been lucky to have.

"They have no capacity for emotion because of the combination of their hard training, genetic modifications, and seclusion from society. I suppose love is important and heartfelt in your world, correct?" the sorceress articulated with a scorn, "---Not to Witchers, my dear. I doubt he would love you as you expect him to. You'll only be the woman who tried to substitute over Yennefer of Vengerberg's position,"

You've given her a petulant expression and a moue that could make plants wither from the hate of seeing the sorceress. She couldn't help but send a ridicule as Ingrith also feels the same, "You are not special. The Witcher needs a person who does not give him more weight on his back---he needs a strong, independent woman who can save herself from being locked inside a cage and not screaming help for him,"

Ingrith of Helmfirth brought to a stand, her eyes throwing daggers over your kneeling form. You were easy to intimidate and certainly effortless to scare away just by the height differences. She simply chuckled when all you've ever done was give her a purse of your lips and a death stare that has probably killed her inside your head for a lot of times already; yet, you were helpless, inundated and incapable of doing such from a mortal.

She knew it; sensed that you held no magic.

"I didn't need you attacking me this way," you quipped with a shake of your head, sighing from the tiring conversation that was taking a toll on you no matter how unaffected you try to appear. But, you were futile to their world and even to a government that was quite unfamiliar to you, authorities that didn't care about the welfare and lives of people.

Sitting back on your derriere with your legs in a criss-cross position, you've held your guard down and went on with the flow. Suddenly, on the midst of prompting down in a comfortable position, you've heard the metal door swinging open and saw the sorceress holding up a hand to you like she had some repulsor; thinking she was Iron Man from how she pointed her palm at your face.

Your face was warped in irritation and ambiguity. You knew what she was doing; her magic is what it is. With a slap of her hand away from your face, barks of remarks has been said out in the open, "What? you need a high five after insulting me like that? even had to pry over what relationship I have with Geralt?---or are you Iron Man dressed as a lady? am I in the MCU?"

The vicious sorceress had a nonplussed look on her face, analyzing what was wrong with the spell she tried to cast upon you, but it seems like her runes has been blocked by someone or something she couldn't understand. Ingrith knelt before you and quickly grabbed onto your throat, her fingers roughly wresting along the line of your jaw as she made you look into her eyes.

None. You had no magic; really knew no witchcraft.

"You should be fainting right now," she lowly mumbled to herself, her gaze intently examining your face while you spat out dry cough from being choked alive, gagging in the process of being pounced on.

"Excuse---E-Excuse me, I'm not. You---You suck! You're not a real sorceress then!"

Until such time, she'd realize the light, chain of metal attached to your neck. Ingrith has straightaway pulled the collar of your sweater down until it has been slightly ripped off. You yelped and resisted to comply from her wishes. However, she'd slapped you hard enough on the same spot as Tybalt did which has made you cease from shrieking as the ache in your jaw started to double up more than ever.

They were literally treating you like a doll that they could hurt or ignite pain and you want nothing more than to see Geralt and lull you to sleep, being taken care of by your own witcher as he tells stories about his adventures with Jaskier or Cirilla, appreciating the difference of being in his family's arms and the people whom they've warned you about.

They have been right all along.

Ingrith pulled the collar down until she'd seen such Cicatrix engraved in between the valley of your chest; the medallion of the Witcher and his school, you were destined to be with him and to create a progeny---his progeny in this world you were in. The lesion now looked like a birthmark, turning darker against your skin and it was enough to presume that the process has finally began.

Along came with an ornament; specifically, the fae necklace that had enchantments to rebound ill-fate has turned from coral green to black like her incantations have been reversed.

"Impossible!" she exclaimed in the middle of the slammer, the Elven who was in the same stockade you were in has given her a look from her loud guffaws, "---you're under a curse---the Warp of the souls. Who'd curse you?"

The sorceress urgently demanded, her fingers tugging your arm as she pulled you closer to her face; seeing the beauty you once saw turn monstrous over the hate that was controlling her to live.

You shook your head, eyes all wide from the frustration, anger and hopelessness being confined inside a dungeon, "I don't know! I haven't met any mages except for you, bitch!"

Ingrith pushed you off to the side, making you stumble on your back flat that has made you groan.

"You're being protected," she stood up on her feet and dusted off her hands straight to your face; all feral with barred teeth, you've given her the stink eye and a nasty scowl, wanting to spit of her foot for her malign, "---Did the witcher find you a Djinn and planned to throw you off back to where you came from?"

"I'm not fucking answering you!" you loudly yelled, voice echoing inside the stoned slammer.

"It is a yes, then."

The sorceress turned away at that, paving her way to the entrance of your spectral, cold cage. She stepped out of the hatch with a lour and most likely with such ire, the curse being a stronger fuel to the fire as she scanned you from head to foot, her gaze lingering longer on your stomach.

Her glowing purple eyes that was quite difficult to decipher when she'd step out of the cage has made you hold a hand on your belly. Why was she staring at you in a way as if she was planning something? did she wanted to eat your intestines?

"---It's that...kind of wish, Tybalt."

Her right hand man has been silent all through out your conversation with the sorceress. The vampire kept his mouth shut, listening to what information they could earn from Ingrith's interrogation. He immediately understood what she meant about 'that kind of wish,' and it was confusing him because of the Witcher's inability to conceive such children.

Tybalt was thinking that your existence never had any reason as to why you've stumbled across the continent. Unless, you've been brought by destiny to produce and make miracles for Geralt's life?

The sorceress leaned closer, her mouth near to his ear as she quietly spoke; not risking for you to hear, "Starve her. Leave her alone with the Elf until The Witcher arrives---or better yet, cudgel her until she speaks answers." she huffed a breath, full of detest over what powerful being was protecting you from her---your curse making her loathe you even more as you were fertile enough to give Geralt an offspring. He shouldn't have been given that luck because he was destined to be completely barren. But, here you were being a complete wonder as to why the curse was a success.

Ingrith hated the concept of an offspring especially that she was also an infertile woman and she couldn't risk the likelihood of a child and its genesis of being a successful heir of a djinn's given malediction; a byproduct of the spirit's potentials in one human to be protected by a witcher.

It could be a threat to her and you were certainly a hazard that she needed to control.

The sorceress speedily left the cell with Tybalt following suit. Her palms itching to go berserk over being futile to your existence, "---She must not produce an heir with the witcher," she sauntered through the path with raging blood. The higher vampire swiftly tugging onto her wrist with his agility.

"But, witchers are infertile, my lady. I doubt they may produce a child,"

"She's made a wish. She has never been infertile from the start nor is she mutated. This thief does not possess such magic but she can give the witcher a child as long as she's protected by the Djinn. The Djinn would give their heir his own magic to create madness in this world which is why she's under a curse. Their child will hold power that no one can ever understand with the help of it,"

"---To make sure of it, we shan't walk around bushes. Spells or maybe poison shall do the trick. We don't need another damned prodigy in this world!"

Tybalt has given her a look, puffing out his frustrations for how she was a foot farther away from the future. The sorceress and her intentions was thoroughly getting out of hand from the moment the prince has been cursed for years. They were present when the curse for the prince has started; more so, Ingrith lasted longer than him in the castle from the moment he was seized by her when she was younger and he respected her for it, even thankful for abducting her when he was a vagrant.

"Ingrith, this is beyond the plan," he spoke through gritted teeth; tightly clutching onto her arm. She raise a brow back at him with a sarcastic reply.

"Do you want the witcher to have a child who may possess black magic then?" Tybalt shut his mouth at that, listening to her reasons and opinion about the whole tragedy that was about to happen in the future, "---you don't even know who that child with Ashen hair is. She can't be his child---he's protecting her from someone---even the thief because she is having his child,"

Ingrith forcefully yanked his hold away from her arm, giving him a sharp look of warning as she continued her gaslighting, "I remembered saving you when you were down and dirty, covered in grime in the caves because you have been abandoned as a higher vampire from your guild,"

The higher vampire's features turned adamantine; features withdrawn and never believing what words he was receiving as it felt like she was making him feel the indeptedness for taking him in.

Ingrith couldn't help but give him a mordant smile of her lips, tilting her head back at him as they stood in front of each other; eye to eye as they both had the same height. She'd seen and read the look within his eyes, conceding to her request of assenting over what side she was trying to fight as her own opinions is what matters and has always been right.

"You're strong, Tybalt. Stronger than the witcher. His sword is no match for you. You're smarter, agile and inevitable. Though, you have a weakness and I suggest you fight that vulnerability of yours---that foolish sympathy for humanity because pity for others isn't what this world needs,"

Taglist for WOTN: (Strikethrough means you couldn’t be tagged, Bb. Please check your settings) @alyxkbrl​ @himarisolace​ @barkingbullfrog​ @ayamenimthiriel​ @hellodevilslittlesister​ @turkish276​ @spookypeachx @grungelovebug @fangirl-inthe-us​ @nympeth​ @amirahiddleston​ @gabethelobster​ @dreaming-about-starfleet @uncoolcloudyhead​ @melaninstylezz​ @psychosupernaturalhero​ @missjenniferb @dance-dreamer @marvelousell​ @kingniazx​ @angelias134​ @tapismyforte​ @chook007​ @covid-donotenter​ @deadlydemon​ @cheesecakeisapie​ @angelofthor​ @carrieannewaywardson, @plantingmum @stuckupstucky​, @shesthelastjedi​, @a–1–1–3, @gutfucks​, @raynosaurus-rex​​, @britty443​,  @suhke3​, @shadowclawstudio88​

Overall witcher taglist: @pizza-eater-i-ate-the-pizza​, @crazybutconfidentaf​​ 

General taglist for Henry Cavill: @agniavateira​​, @iloveyouyen​​, @rahdaleigh​​, @silverkitten547​ @henrythickcavill​ @kaatelyyynn​

[wovenstarlight]

YWBK update: chapter 26 + liner notes

yesterday will be kinder has updated! you can read chapter 26 here, or start from the beginning here

as always, commentary below the cut

Yoojin🐉😊

watch this space....

In preparation for it, Han Hyunjae temporarily requisitions Yoojin’s laptop and combs through the internet looking for photos of the Hunters that he thinks his family should know about in advance. He goes down one too many internet rabbit-holes, takes way too many screenshots, transcribes a summary of the notes in his future diary, then painstakingly puts everything together into a neat little presentation for them.

picture HHJ reading his fifth article wondering where the sung family heir has disappeared to and being like 👁️👁️👁️👁️

had a little giggle to myself about “future diary” that phrasing was definitely on purpose. will exclusively be referring to it as this now

“Right,” he starts, clapping his hands together, after Yerim’s been sent off to play with Hohyoung.

LHH is so much of a background figure.... i want to see more of himself but he likes his privacy.... he’s got his girlfriend and his baby sister and yoojin who’s wormed his way into his good graces by way of Living In Same House but that’s kinda it....... he’s always lurking in the background instead of showing up on screen. come here hohyoung oppa i just wanna talk

Even if Yoojin’s right, Han Hyunjae still has to protest. [...] But he can’t keep it up when Jiyeon looks at him like that.

KJY has the world’s best Stern Mom Voice and Disappointed Mom Glare and to her great delight they work even on fellow adult HHJ. she will use this power For Evil

The other S-ranks are Moon Hyuna, leader of Breaker Guild, and Bak Mingyu of Hanshin Guild.

OK FOR THIS PART I STRAIGHT FORGOT ABOUT HANSHIN GUILD AND I WAS COUNTING UP ON MY FINGERS LIKE WAIT... IF YERIM WAS THE EIGHTH KOREAN S-RANK WHO WERE THE SEVEN BEFORE HER.... (for those curious they were 1. sung hyunjae, 2. han yoohyun, 3. moon hyuna, 4. song taewon, 5. bak mingyu of hanshin, 6. choi sukwon of MKC, and 7. yoon kyeongsoo of soodam. but. i forgot about the last three altogether.)

“Oh, blond guy,” Yoojin says, unimpressed. “Yeah, I’ve seen him on the news and stuff.”

Top 10 Funny Yoojin Moments (I JUST THINK IT’D BE REALLY FUNNY IF HAN “HAVE I MENTIONED IN THE LAST 5 MINUTES HOW HANDSOME SUNG HYUNJAE IS” YOOJIN DID NOT GIVE TWO SHITS ABOUT HIM IN THIS TIMELINE....)

Han Hyunjae takes a moment to double-check that he really doesn’t have Noise Resistance (L), and looks back in time to see Yoojin rubbing at his eyes and glaring at the screen. 

HEHEHE...... A SECRET TOOL THAT WILL HELP US LATER

“Hyunjae-yah,” Jiyeon says, looking at the photo of Sung Hyunjae on screen, “this man looks—” “LIKE A PIECE OF WHITE BREAD,” Yoojin bellows. [...] “HYUNG THINKS HE LOOKS GOOD? [...] Oh, god, he kinda does, [...] but like, in a trashy romance novel cover way.” [... Jiyeon] gives the computer screen an assessing once-over. “He looks like the models in cologne advertisements.”

this part of the chapter was planned waaaay back in august 2020 and i actually crowdfunded these descriptions from the s-class server dshblksjdfkblsdfb. the original suggestions (thanks to server members for these):

“bland whitie potato with a slap-on seme personality”

“tacky valentine’s day/mom’s cologne advertisement”

“the face of the dude on the cover of all my mom’s trashy romance novels”

and tbh HYJ does think he genuinely looks good but like, disgustingly good, you know... also Hyung Likes Him so [19 gun emojis]

also me handwaving moment of mild homophobia because like. jiyeon doesn’t know yet AND homophobia is a thing in this world BUT i don’t really wanna do, All That (we already did it with HYJ once), so.

“Do S-ranks get rich?” Yerim asks as she enters, because apparently everyone’s coming for his life today. Han Hyunjae closes his eyes and lies down on the bed while Yoohyun calls out an affirmation over his head. “Then I think— oh! He looks nice!” He cracks open an eye just in time to see her nod. “I think ahjussi should marry him for the eye candy and the money.” She beams very wide. Han Hyunjae closes his eyes again and tunes out the loud conversation going on around him. And wishes, not for the first time, that he’d picked literally any other name when he first got here.

yerim says gay rights cuz she’s like 12 rn and she straight up does not really care. but says it in, like, the most frustrating way possible.

sometimes you just need to lie down even as the world keeps throwing shit at you. just lie down and nap for a little bit. especially when the shit in question is the alias regret you had literally back in chapter one of your 25+ chapter story. this is gonna come back to bite you in the ass Very Fucking Soon babe!!!!

You Oh this is like the 17th one I got wrong I swear this course is trying to kill me

me, flicking on that EPSON brand projector,

(i have. been having a Time of it.)

[Yoojin🐉😊 called you (21:35)]

that’s minutes and seconds babey... you can pretty much guess the content of call from context :(

well, uh. most of call. some internal plot and Realizations happening right at the end of those 21 minutes, 35 seconds. namely:

Yoojin🐉❤️

:-)

or i dunno you can be my roommate and we can both leech off my rich and prosperous baby brother!

[extremely sad voice] heehoo... they... care each other....

YMW’s parents are kinda shit ngl. they care about him, but unfortunately, that does not show through in their care for him, ykwim? if they just paid attention to what he was actually talented at and encouraged him in his efforts.................

well, he wouldn’t have met HYJ in canon. but he would also have been a lot happier!! and YMW deserves to be happy!!!!!!!! YMW fucking rights!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

You When you came with me to drop off Jihui’s standee. 

they finally remembered her name sjfbklsjdfbl

Yoojin🐉❤️ OH right i was talking to one of my new commissioners about their piece realized they were an old friend of hyung’s

HEEHOO.... HONKS MY LITTLE CLOWN NOSE yoojin forgot to ask about pronouns but that’s okay they’re figuring that stuff out still

Yoojin🐉❤️ it’s getting late the kids are going to bed i have to turn off the lights 

you can take the caregiver out the role of caregiving but he will still think of his baby siblings as his kids

Part of that is changing his behaviour. Hyunjae and Yoojin sit side by side and watch as Suk Simyeong gently coaches Yoohyun on how to interact with others and present a neutral, if not friendly, exterior.

[same voice as ingredience] neurodivergence.....

try and look them in the eye, or at least look somewhere on or near their face, if eye contact is too much

yoohyun, who’s the type to look people in the eye without blinking until they inevitably look away because then they don’t try that eye contact shit again later:

tbh i kinda made up shit for the Training In Formality section i don’t know shit about being Formal and Polite. hope i got it right :pensive:

“He’s not good with touch,” Hyunjae cuts in. [...] “Sorry,” [Yoojin] says apologetically to Suk Simyeong, crossing the room and gently pressing a hand against Yoohyun’s back. The kid slowly stops rocking and leans into the touch as he talks.

he’s not good with touch, Usually..... there are exceptions :-) every time i think about this being canon i go insane. wow. love and trust and faith.

Suk Simyeong nods understandingly, giving the closed door a considering look. “If that’s the case, perhaps he can take over part of the preparations,” he offers.

SSM who’s frothing at the mouth wanting to know more about this dude who apparently did some killer business deal with the head of Dungeon Task Force who all the dungeon people are gossiping about on their phone calls while they cart around unassuming A-rank businessmen: PLEEAAASEE fucking involve him PLEEEEASE make him involve himself in business with me

Still, Yoojin’s work is fairly repetitive and boring, so Hyunjae and the women pull out a pack of UNO cards from somewhere and start playing while he works, not paying much attention to either of the boys.

plugging my Han/Bak family playing UNO art here, please reblog like and subscribe,

He stares down at Yoohyun’s hair. Yoohyun’s wavy hair sits there judgmentally. Yoojin bemoans his budding career as a stylist and admits, “This… isn’t working.”

i’m sorry sweetie... hair isn’t your forte :( you can still do fashion if you try really hard

(fun fact about this whole scene, yoohyun not being able to straighten his hair until he could control flame resistance is Certified Canon!)

“No, shit, don’t get up.” Yoojin flaps his free hand at him distractedly. Hyunjae and his need to do everything himself, jeez. “I mean, like. The iron is not. Straightening.”

“hyunjae and his need to do everything” says the man who a few paragraphs ago wanted to be hair makeup clothing and management all in one

“Okay, but why is it not working, though? Is the iron not turned on?” Wow. Wow! Yoojin wonders suddenly if Yoohyun ever felt as homicidal towards him as Yoojin’s currently feeling towards his big brother. If he ever had, then it’s frankly stunning Yoojin’s survived as long as he did. “Do you think I’m stupid,” he snaps. “It’s plugged in.” “Yeah, but did you turn it on.” “You know what, why don’t you touch it and see?” Yoojin unplugs the straightening iron for a minute so that he can take it over to Hyunjae, presenting it to him with a flourish. The heat will hold on for the few seconds this takes. “Come on, touch it right now. I dare you.”

zmur put this into words better than i can, she described this part as “the feeling when elder siblings doubt your intelligence”--

“What if you used a regular iron. Like for clothes,” Hyunjae says, completely ignoring Yoohyun. Yoojin hums thoughtfully.

--and this part as “THEY ARE RIGHT TO DOUBT IT !”

“Killjoy,” Hyunjae mutters so only he and Yoojin can hear.

(should doubt your elder sibling’s intelligence too, once in a while. keep them on their toes.)

“HAN YOOHYUN YOU TAKE YOUR HAND OFF THAT RIGHT NOW,” Yoojin and Hyunjae and Jiyeon holler in perfect unison.

parental instinct for particular phrasings of commands

“Flame Resistance,” Yoohyun reads out. “S-rank.” It’s not heat resistance, but it’s pretty close, so it probably still applies.

hum hum the flame skill works on heat as well, huh

Yoojin’s watching Hyunjae idly when the flickers start up at the edge of his vision again. He blinks, rubbing his eyes idly, and looks back up in time to see, just for a split second— 

HEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE VISION PROBLEMS WAS IT? RUBBING HIS EYES WAS IT??

“Eh? It didn’t? I’ll… I’ll try it again, one second.” Nothing, for a second— but no, there is, pale flashes here and there. Yoojin shakes his head and blinks. They die down, then start up again. Fainter, this time. Why? 

gonna say this here because i accidentally set it up as a Thing there’s. there’s no reason. whether the message shows up or not is pretty much random error.

“Ahjussi has an L-rank skill?” Yerim demands. “That’s so cool!” Jiyeon and Yoohyun and Yoojin stare at Hyunjae in silence as he returns Yerim’s eager high-five. He cowers when he notices them.

these three are already so mad and they don’t know that between S and L there’s SS and SSS. they’re gonna be SOOOOO mad. anyway yerim remains the chillest in the room

“So, say you needed to cauterize a wound in an emergency, and you didn’t have access to healing items or Hunters. You could drop the Resistance there, set it on fire, and just… sear it shut.” Yoohyun blinks, an intrigued look coming into his eyes, and looks down at his own forearm. “That’s true, I could probably…” “Yeah, food for thought, I suppose.” “What the hell?!” Yerim yelps. “Though it’s up to you if you want to try it. I still think your hair is fine as is, we don’t have to—” “That’s horrifying,” Yoojin blurts. “No, I should know how. In case something happens like you said. How do I do it?” “Now hold on a second,” Jiyeon says, voice rapidly rising in pitch.

sometimes i think about how dungeon stuff made yoojin significantly more chill with violence and murder and self mutilation in some cases. and how he comments specifically (i think this might be in a slightly later chapter, possibly unreleased) that people like myeongwoo who don’t have those extra years of immersion in the dungeon culture still reject and avoid violence and killing whenever possible. really makes you think

anyway! i saved some extra commentary for those okay with spoilers. continue reading at your own risk. extra large warning in case you’re skilling

SPOILER WARNING FOR THE BELOW CONTENT!!!! IT DRAWS ON INFO FROM UNTRANSLATED CHAPTERS, POST-170S AT LEAST!

“How many of these people did you personally know?” “Not many!” “So one, then,” Yoojin concludes. “You don’t know that!”

HE DIDN’T SAY THAT YOOJIN WAS RIGHT, THOUGH..............

“Why did you pick his name out of everyone’s! I thought you weren’t in touch with S-ranks. I thought you picked a friend’s name!”

:)

they wanted some kind of bedroom decoration for a family member, counting sheep or something, i forget 

a sheep, for a family member of one of han hyunjae’s old acquaintances, is it

[7-wonders]

Some Kind of Drug

Summary: Michael deals with his rejection in a much different way than most other people.

Word Count: 2548

A/N: Welcome back to Mad Love, friends! Sorry it’s taken so long, but life happens. Hopefully I’ll be able to post this now. As always, feedback is very much appreciated, and if you enjoyed I would love if you would like, comment and reblog. Shoot me an ask about this, my other works, or just anything!

(p.s....cw for blood ritual)

Read Mad Love (part one) HERE | Read Totally F***ed (part two) HERE | Read The Isle of Flightless Birds (part three) HERE | Read A Hard Day’s Night (part four) HERE | Read Pour One Out (part five) HERE | Read Where Angels Fear to Tread (part six) HERE | Read Naked & Afraid (part seven) HERE | Read Ironically Alive (part eight) HERE | Read Blame It On My Youth (part nine) HERE | Read Everything All At Once (part ten) HERE | Read Try (Just a Little Bit Harder) (part eleven) HERE

Flickering candles cast long shadows on the walls of the chamber as Michael moves around, making sure that everything’s in the exact position he needs it to be in order to conduct his ritual. Communicating with his father in this way is not new to him, but it is something that he’s neglected since you came into his life. Now, however, Michael’s done playing your games. He’s been patient with you, allowing you to determine the speed of the relationship. Sooner or later, he figured, you would stop fighting what your soul knows to be true and give into him. Obviously, he had vastly underestimated you.

He hardly flinches as he makes deep cuts down the length of his arms, watching with silent concentration as the thick blood quickly starts to pool on the ground beneath him. Falling to his knees, he starts to use the blood to paint an upside-down pentagram. The movements are almost robotic-like now, becoming second nature after so many years. The Latin that Michael’s chanting falls off of his lips with ease, the words echoing through the empty air.

“May you rise from the void, Father,” Michael says, switching to plain English as he begins to complete the summoning. “May your darkness guide me, power in Satan to overcome my weaknesses. Power in your name, strong within.”

A humming, high-pitched and ceaseless, sounds in Michael’s ears as his vision dances with spots. Every single sense is being assaulted as his demonic, Satanic nature takes the wheel. The candles begin to roar with each second that passes, the fervor building in Michael’s veins as he waits with bated breath for Satan to arrive. The bloody pentagram bubbles underneath him as the height of the flames reaches to the ceiling, unchanged by the sudden wind that whips through the room. When the wind stops just as unexpectedly as it started, the air growing stiflingly still, Michael looks up with pitch black eyes.

“Ave Satanas.”

To the normal human eye, nothing is in the chamber with Michael. To the son of Satan, however, his father stands just behind him, a ghost-like touch on his shoulder as he whispers into the ear of his son, the same ear that’s burned with the Mark of the Beast. The humming starts up again, but to Michael it registers as words.

“Father,” he calls, “I request your guidance! You’ve...tortured me with these images, visions of a future that I will have.”

He’s been plagued with these visions for months now, long before Ms. Mead stuck that needle into your neck. They often come to Michael in the form of dreams, but he has been known to collapse to the floor as he’s taken over by a premonition. They’re always vivid, and they’re always of you and Michael. Michael, holding you as a husband should hold his wife. 

Kissing you.

Making love to you.

In his visions, you rule alongside him. The new world has been ushered in, with Michael as its king and you as its queen. You love each other unconditionally, just as it should be. You belong to him, and he belongs to you.

(Usually, he’s holding onto at least one curly-haired blonde cherub, and you’re almost always pregnant with another. That desperate need for a family, however, can wait. First, he needs to win over your mind.)

“Her will is strong, stronger than anyone I’ve ever known. Our souls were created for one another, yet she continues to deny what is inevitable. The bonding ritual from the night of our wedding was a failure, and she continues to spurn any of my advances. I’m lost, Father. How am I supposed to complete your plans if I do not wholly have the one person who is supposed to be at my side during all of this?”

“Perhaps something more...permanent?” Satan’s voice sounds preternaturally deep in Michael’s ear, and he has to hide a shiver.

“I promised (Y/N) that I wouldn’t use magic on her without her permission.”

“And you won’t.” Michael’s arm is raised by an invisible force, palm facing upwards as his hand is outstretched. An apple, bright red and almost perfectly shaped, appears in his grip.

“I don’t understand what this will help with.”

Satan remains silent, allowing a vision to play out in front of Michael’s eyes as a response. Michael watches as you appear in front of him, silently asking for the apple with a familiar tilt of your head. He hands it to you, your shimmering mirage-like form holding it as if you’re actually there. You take a large bite out of the apple, Michael nearly moaning as he watches the juice dribble past your full lips and down your chin in a near-erotic scene.

There’s no sound coming from you as you gasp, the apple landing heavily on the ground. Your expression changes, and you blink rapidly, as if trying to see through a thick fog. When your eyes meet Michael’s, you smile softly. Michael’s frozen, enraptured as you approach him and sit in his lap, not at all bothered by his lack of clothes. Your arms loop around his neck, and Michael can almost feel the heat of your breath as you begin to lean in. Right as your lips are about to connect with his, you disappear as suddenly as you appeared.

“So it’s--” Michael’s chest is heaving, and he has to remind himself to breathe.

“Nothing that will harm her. One bite of this apple and she will be yours, my son. Body, mind, and soul.”

Michael could almost just take the apple and run, but something is stopping him. “That’s still using magic on her, whether or not it’s mine.”

“I bring a gift for you, and this is how you repay me? With ignorant questions and flippant reactions?”

“No Father, I’m extremely grateful.”

“Then take the gift. If anything, do not think of this as magic. Think of it--”

The dream (or maybe a nightmare) is the kind that’s forgotten as soon as you shoot up in bed with a gasp. You know that it was extremely vivid, your heart still pounding as you grab your phone to turn your alarm off, but you can’t remember the specifics. Lots of candles and Michael are the only things you’re sure were a part of your dream, but those could be used in any setting. Michael knocking over a candle and setting the house on fire? Celebrating Michael’s birthday? Lighting fireworks with Michael?

You shake your head, hoping maybe that will clear the fuzzy feeling in your brain like it clears an Etch-a-Sketch. You’re disoriented, like you slept for twenty hours instead of the eight or so that you normally do. Intense dreams tend to do that to you, so you’re careful with yourself as you crawl out of bed and head for the shower.

Even after you’ve washed the remnants of a restless sleep off of you, you still feel...off. You’re not sure if it’s related to the dream that you can’t remember, but you just feel weird today, like the world’s just slightly tilted on its axis and you’re the only one who notices it. Staring at your face in the steamed-over mirror as you comb through your hair, you frown slightly at yourself.

“Get it together, (Y/N),” you mutter to your reflection, watching as she says the words back to you at the same time. Swiping a towel over the mirror to clear it up, you shoot a couple of half-hearted finger guns at yourself before deciding that you need to stop procrastinating before you’re late. 

Michael, surprisingly, is leaning against the counter when you make your way into the kitchen. Normally he’s already in his office by this time, so to see him eating a bagel while scrolling through his phone is jarring. 

“Um, good morning?” you say, thrown off by this change in his ever-strict schedule. He must not have heard you come in, because he jumps when you greet him.

“(Y/N)!” He straightens up, trying to act like you didn’t just scare him. “You really are getting better at sneaking up on me.”

“Damn, and I wasn’t even trying.” You jokingly shoulder check him as you pass by, hearing him snicker under his breath.

“Do you nanny the two girls today?”

“No, I have to meet with my advisor on campus.”

“I thought class didn’t start for another couple of weeks?”

“It doesn’t, and please don’t remind me,” you groan, looking forlornly into the fridge. “This summer went by way too fast, I feel like I didn’t even get to do anything!”

“You would have been able to enjoy your summer if you had heeded my advice and not taken a job,” Michael points out, falling silent when you shoot him a withering glance.

“You may be the Antichrist, but I’ll still kick your ass if given the chance.” There’s nothing that appeals to you in the fridge, so you begrudgingly shut the door and look around for something that you can eat quick before running off to campus. “What are you up to today? Meeting with Putin?”

“The ghost of Josef Stalin, actually.” Michael smiles when you laugh loudly.

“Ah, well, be sure to break the bad news of the fall of Communism gently.”

“I’ll try, but my Russian’s pretty basic, at best.” 

Nodding as if you understand the downfalls of only being passing in the Russian language, your eyes fall on the fruit bowl sitting on the counter. Although all of the fruit looks pretty appetizing, the particular apple sitting at the top is practically calling your name. It’s shiny and bright red, and looks as if it was just picked out of a tree. The feeling that something’s off returns with a full force, making you pause right as you’re about to grab the apple. Figuring that you’re just hungry, you shake it off and take the fruit from the bowl.

Running it under some water, you look at Michael with a questioning glance when you feel him staring at you. “Do you have a problem with me eating this apple?”

“No, sorry, I didn’t mean to stare,” he says quickly. “Just lost in my thoughts, I guess.”

“O...kay?” He still watches you as you turn the water off, shaking the apple dry and grabbing a towel to wipe your hands. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, absolutely. Why?”

“You just seem off today. Then again, maybe it’s the moon or something, because I’ve felt weird all morning, too.”

“You have?”

“Yeah, I had a really vivid dream last night, and I still haven’t been able to get over it.”

“Hmm, what was it about?” Michael’s mind is fighting a battle with his nature as he anxiously watches you toss the apple in the air before setting it down on the counter to grab a glass of water. 

“That’s the thing, I don’t remember. All I remember is that it involved you and some candles.” Michael’s pretty sure his heart stops, automatically knowing that you somehow inadvertently had a front-row seat to the ritual with his father. “I don’t know, maybe it involved you setting the house on fire?”

“Why would I ever set the house on fire?”

“Hey, I never said you did it on purpose! You could’ve dropped a candle? Can’t you light things on fire with your magic? Maybe you just got too excited.”

“Okay, you’re making me nervous talking about the different ways I could burn the house down.” He’s nervous for a few reasons right now, but you don’t need to know that. 

“And here I thought you couldn’t get nervous,” you tease.

For Michael, the next two seconds happen slow enough to make it feel like two minutes. He watches as you raise the apple to your mouth, heart jumping in his chest with a mix of glee and horror. Finally, it’s happening. He should be happy about this; he is happy about this, but he can’t deny how he guilty he feels. Still, he attempts to argue with himself, it’s not like you’re forcing her to love you. You’re just helping her to see what her soul knows.

But I’m making her feel that before she’s ready to acknowledge it, he fires back.

She’s had months now to acknowledge it! It’s time to speed things along.

The time that Michael spends debating with himself, he finds, is precious time lost. Instead of coming to a decision, you make the decision for him by biting into the apple. He stifles a gasp, feigning a cough instead as he waits for the inevitable to occur. The inevitable, however, occurs much slower than he was led to believe. One, two, and three bites are taken before Michael remembers how to speak. 

“(Y/N)?” he asks cautiously.

“Yeah?” He’ll forgive the fact that you talked with food in your mouth this time, since there are bigger worries at hand.

“Are you...feeling alright?” You eyes widen, and Michael’s sure that the magic’s taken effect. 

Then, you roll your eyes. “Perfectly fine, unless you poisoned the apples a la Snow White?”

“I was just curious.” You shake your head slowly, obviously not believing him.

“And I thought I was going to be the weird one today,” you mutter under your breath, checking the time and grabbing your bag like you would any other morning. “I gotta go. Don’t light the house on fire while I’m gone, okay?”

“I’m not planning on it,” Michael says, still in disbelief that you’re acting completely normal.

With a cheeky smile and a sarcastic wave, you’re out the door with a “bye, Mikey!” He doesn’t even bother to correct you on the nickname, standing in the kitchen in a frozen stupor as he tries to figure out what just happened.

Michael rushes over to the fruit bowl, unsure of if you grabbed the wrong piece of fruit or if you’re just impervious to any sort of mind-affecting magic. Flipping the bowl over, the various apples and oranges scatter across the counter. He allows the tendrils of his magic to extend out like extra limbs, hands grasping for each apple that he can find. Finally he feels it, the magic that fully coats the apple as if it’s caramel being drizzled on top. Michael cries out in relief, examining the apple to make sure it really is the one that was given to him by his father. 

With one look, the apple’s incinerated until there’s nothing but a small pile of ashes in Michael’s hand. He turns on the faucet, washing his hands of the ashes and keeping the water running until he’s sure that any trace of the rotten plan is down the drain, both figuratively and literally. Leaning against the counter, Michael flicks his wrist to put the bowl back on the counter like nothing ever happened.

He got lucky this time. Satan influences Michael, injecting himself into his son’s veins and manipulating him until he’s something he doesn’t recognize, something villainous and evil. He almost let the Devil do it again, only this time it involved you. “Never again,” Michael mutters, determined to escape the clutches of his father. 

Evil, however, comes in many different forms.

//

Tag List: @ccodyfern @sammythankyou @girlycakepops @ultragibbycentralworld @sebastianshoe @nana15774 @queencocoakimmie @lichellaw @grim-adventures58 @dandycandy75 @trimbooohgodplsnoooo @everything-is-awesomesauce @jimmlangdon @omgsuperstarg @queenie435 @dextergirl12345 @sloppy-little-witch-bitch26 @coloursunlimited @kahhlo @storminmytwistedmind @1-800-bitchcraft @langdonslove @cuddletothecake @born-on-stgeorges-day @xavierplympton @michaelsapostle @venusxxlangdon @idespac @hexqueensupreme @tcc-gizmachine @90sroger @gold-dragon-slayer @atombombastic @lvngdvns @nsainmoonchild @trelaney @blakewaterxx @yoheyyosup @forever1313 @ladyrindt @kaetastic 

[fromthewifecage]

Never Trust a Cowboy with a Computer (aka Erron Black X F!Reader)

I actually wrote this several months ago, and kept stalling and being an idiot. About 1 month ago I asked the wonderful @tomoka0013 & @gojihime99 if they could help edit it. THANK YOU SO MUCH!! SO many kisses to you both :D Basic premise is Erron Black X F!Reader. Reader handles the Black Dragon IT  and they have a rather huge crush on Erron (because who wouldn’t?) Reader is about to go out to the cinema with Kabal & Tremor buuuuut… dun dun dun….. shenanigans ensue, This is Chapter 1 of 2. Chapter 2 is written but needs me to have a shout at it. If people like this then I’ll try to get it out within a week (Chapter 2 contains the smut). If you do like, then please like and reblog as Tumblr is hiding my tags and no-one will see this otherwise. Your support means more than you’ll ever know x

Never Trust a Cowboy with a Computer

Chapter 1 For once, the absolutely only time in recent history, your hair was behaving. Thank the Gods! Actually, was there a God of Hair? Hmmm, maybe Kano would know? His stories of meeting Gods were always fascinating, even though he would always exaggerate his role and prowess in encounters with said Gods. There was simply no way on Earthrealm that Kano would have stolen the Thunder God’s hat without being zapped into the Netherrealm. Plus, Kano had never produced the hat, so whenever he would have one too many beers and start on another night of tall tales, you’d nod along and feign complete belief in his words. Maybe one day you’d get to meet a God? Not likely whilst you were stuck behind a computer for hours every day. Especially working along side Erron-sodding-Black. He’d gone through at least 5 computers this year, 2 in the past three weeks! You’d swear he was doing it on purpose. In your steamiest daydreams he was deliberately breaking his computer so you’d have to travel to the ‘Black Dragon Boyz office’ (and yes, they did spell it with a z) to spend precious time un-fucking his computer. Every time it happened, you swore you were just going to tell him to go bother someone else, or get his arse down to PC World and find some spotty 17 year old work experience boy to bother rather than yourself. After all, you were doing just as an important job for the Black Dragon as he, well, almost. He might be a super amazing dead-shot sniper capable of assassinating even the most heavily guarded target, but you weren’t just IT support, you were a Black Dragon member too. You spent much of your time hacking into Special Forces super secret files, reading General Sonya Blade’s horribly dry mission reports, or transferring money from one Swiss bank account to another before you could be traced. Well, that was why Kano had hired you. Yet these past few months you’d been dragged to broken computer after broken computer by the obscenely handsome aforementioned Erron Black at least once a week. You hadn’t minded the first few times, after all, any time spent in Erron’s company made you all giddy and wibbly-wobbly inside your knickers. His voice honestly did things to you, actually made parts that shouldn’t tingle at work, tingle. He had warm eyes that seemed to sparkle whenever he spoke to you, or caught you staring at him, not that you stared at him. Much. OK, maybe a little. ******  Keep reading after the cut!!! *********

He had a smile that was likely illegal in half the known world. Long, strong fingers that you so often thought about, especially when you’d watch him dance a coin across his knuckles when he was thinking, his trick to keep his fingers supple. No, no no. No thinking about him. He obviously wasn’t interested in you. He was a simple man when it came to that. You’d seen him make moves on people who caught his eye, he’d watch them for a while, then walk up to them, give them a smile, tell them plainly what he wanted, and then watch them walk off together whilst your heart dissolved into self pity. A few months ago, you’d made a real effort to try to stop flirting with him. No more lingering looks while spending more time than needed helping him with his computer. The man was multi-talented with most things, just not computers. Probably didn’t help he didn’t grow up around modern technology. You’d gently teased him about being old and doddery around computers and he’d taken the jokes well, and really, you missed joking around with him, but it was for the best. Kabal jostled with you for mirror space, smoothing down his hair and giving the mirror a big grin. Why was it so easy for men like him? He could probably roll out of bed after 2 hours sleep with his face in a half-eaten curry and he’d still wake up handsome (the git). Whereas it took a lot of fussing to even get your hair to behave, let alone look nice and shiny like Kabal’s did. Maybe you could make a small shrine in the corner of your bedroom to the Hair God? You nodded to yourself, thinking Kabal must have done that. “Come on, you look beautiful. Now get your coat and scarf, and we’re outta here. If we don’t leave soon, we’ll miss it!” Kabal fussed with his coat buttons. Always unable to keep still, the man practically radiated excess energy. “I will be sad if we miss the film.” Tremor stood up from his own desk, the building shaking ever so slightly with the enormous man’s movements. “Not as sad as Kabal. He’ll start bawlin’ if he misses his boyfriend’s new film.” Erron spun round in his brand new swivel chair, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Johnny Cage is NOT my boyfriend and I don’t even care about missing the film.” Kabal bristled with indignation. He did care about missing it. He cared a lot. “I don’t even like his films, or him. I’m just watching it ironically.” Erron laughed. You felt that laughter, deep inside and it demanded attention. Bastard. “Suuuure. Enjoy your boyfriend.” “He is NOT my boyfriend!” This was going to end up in another fight. Last week Kabal had called Erron ‘Old Man Withers’. Erron had retaliated by drawing on Kabal’s Johnny Cage calendar. The moustache and glasses actually suited Johnny Cage. So Kabal put a mouse in Erron’s desk drawer and recorded Erron’s scream, playing it every so often while  laughing, and it had gone on until Kano had forced them to apologise to one another, in front of everyone. This happened probably twice a month. It got to where people made bets on how long each feud would last. The longest feud had lasted 23 long days before Kano had flipped. “I do not want to be late.” Tremor tugged open the office door, the handle would need replacing. Again. You followed after the huge man, Kabal behind you muttering about revenge. “Hey, Sweetheart, you goin’ too?” It took a second before you realised that sultry Texan drawl was aimed at you. “Oh, yes. There was a spare ticket since Kira’s still stuck on a job.” Oh shit, you should have offered it to Erron instead. You’d been so excited to be included in the cinema plans that you’d been selfish and not asked if Erron had wanted to go. “But……” Erron’s face scrunched a little and he turned to his computer and hit a few keys in quick succession. “It ain’t workin’ again. Sorry, darlin’.” He gestured to his computer. “But… I only fixed it this morning! What have you done this time?!” You dropped your bag to the floor, and peeled off your coat with a frustrated groan. You were going to get fired as there was no way Kano would believe this. You were completely and utterly incompetent. No other reason. Your fault. “It’s those darn computer gremlins again.” He gave you an apologetic smile and shrugged. You sighed and waved goodbye to Kabal and Tremor, both eager to watch Ninja Mime’s latest adventure, and this one was in SPACE, so it was going to be amazing, and you were missing it. You stomped over to Erron’s computer, your mouth twisted into a grumpy pout. “That is it. No more computers for you! you want to do some work; then you can bloody well do it on a typewriter.” Erron replied with a “Heyyyyyyy” and another laugh. The throb between your legs from the laugh can just sod off. No more. Not when you were going to be unemployed and unemployable after this. Who was going to hire you? What could you put on your CV? ‘Failed IT support worker’? ‘Only capable of turning a computer on and even then it’ll probably turn itself off again when you’re not looking?’ ‘Can steal FBI or Special Forces secrets but can’t keep an old man’s computer running for more than 3 minutes before it’s broken again’? ‘Want to play Solitaire? Well don’t ask me, best try the sudoku in the newspaper instead’. You were so engrossed in sulking you didn’t notice Erron get up from his comfy chair to stand behind you as you perched on the crappy stool with no back (it had no back because Tremor had tried to sit on it). It was only when strong hands found your hunched shoulders and began kneading at the tightly knotted and sore muscles that you looked away from the ‘blue screen of death’. “I’m sorry, but I’ll make it up to you, Sweetheart.” By the Gods his fingers were truly magic. His thumbs were rubbing magic circles into your shoulders and it felt soooo good. “Mmmhhhhh?” Maybe he was a God, the God of massage. Your eyes closed and your head rolled back. Heat radiated from where his fingers touched you, heat that only got stronger when it reached your face and between your legs. He found one particularly knotted muscle and you couldn’t help but groan your pleasure as his thumb circled the spot. His chuckled reply tugged you back to your senses and you quickly shrugged his hands off you. Thank the Gods you had your back to him so he couldn’t see your positively flushed face. You quickly got back to tapping away at the keyboard but your hands were shaking so badly from the intimacy you struggled to hit the correct keys. “You sure you got that, Sweetheart?” The computer made indignant beeps at your clumsy fingers. “Says the man who has trashed enough computers to practically bankrupt Kano.” Your hands continued to shake and your thwarted desire swerved into anger. “I’ve made you mad.” “I haven’t been out in FOREVER, and just as I’m about to go out, YOU go break your computer. AGAIN!” “Ain’t my fault your boyfriend doesn’t take you out.” Why did he sound almost happy about that? Hang on… You span around to face him. “What boyfriend?” “You know, the dwarf.” “The.. what?” “Your boyfriend, the hairy dwarf.” His arms folded, his weight shifted to one hip. He didn’t seem too happy talking about this mystery boyfriend. “Is this some sort of joke?” You honestly had no idea what he meant. Maybe he was drunk or Kabal had told him this for a laugh. “I don’t think so?” One of his eyebrows rose in puzzlement. “I don’t have a boyfriend. I don’t have a hairy dwarf boyf.. why do you think I have a hairy dwarf boyfriend?” Maybe you had a secret boyfriend so secret you didn’t know you were in fact dating him? Piotr, who ran a very seedy strip club in the seedier part of the city, was a dwarf, (and you only knew him because Kano was friendly with him), but he was balding. Who did Erron think you were dating? “You said you did. You know, you were talking about him being all small and his hair got everyw…. He’s a cat ain’t he.” Erron had the good grace to look embarrassed at his idiocy. “Obviously.” Was Kabal recording this? This was ridiculous. “Shit.” “Yup.” “Then.. uh.. you should go catch up with Kabal and Tremor.” “I still have your computer to fix.” This was going to be such an awkward few hours. Sitting in the office whilst neither of you spoke since you both felt like idiots. “I can do that.” He threw out a warm smile. “Really. The man who can’t even use a mouse without breaking it, can fix this mess?” You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. If he even so much as looked at the computer it would probably catch fire. “I maybe exaggerated my lack of skills.” His smile turned, and slid from warm to worried. You were going to kill him if this was going were you suspected it was going. “I maybe might’ve deliberately caused the error.” He held up his hands in surrender. Yup, definitely going to have to kill him. “I maybe did some classes a few years back when I was at a loose end.” “…… I’m going to kill you.” “How ‘bout I make it up to you? I take you out for dinner, there’s this patisserie we can go afterwards for the best pastries in Moscow. Hell, you wanna watch that film, let’s go.” His eyes pleaded with you not to hate him, but right now you really did. “I have a hairy dwarf who’ll be better company, thank you.” That he was possibly asking you out and that he wanted to actually go out on a date wasn’t registering. All you could think of was the waste of time and how humiliated you felt. Everyone probably knew and had laughed at how utterly clueless you were. Kano was going to fire you for being shit at your job - after he’d finished laughing. “Heyyy, Sweetheart. I’m sorry. I just wanted to spend time with you.” He really did sound sorry. His eyes went all soft and warm and apologetic and Gods he was beautiful and you really did want to believe him. “You really thought it was accidental?” He tried to hide a smile and couldn’t stop one eyebrow from raising quizzically at the thought that you had been utterly clueless. “Well… you’re… there weren’t computers around when you were young…younger, I’m just an idiot aren’t I?” The-all-too brief warmth and fuzziness from thinking maybe there might actually be something there between you dissolved back into embarrassment from being tricked so easily. You grabbed your coat and bag and left the office whilst Erron stared after you.

[thosekidswhohuntmonsters]

Dream a Little Dream of Me 

Summary: Boy wants girl, girl wants boy, boy and girl are too scared to act on their desires. 

Word Count: 5803

Rating: spicy;)

Warnings: the classic “let’s fall in love at one of tony’s many fancy parties” trope. 

Song Pairing: Dream a Little Dream of Me- Louis Armstrong and Ella Fitzgerald 

Authors note: this was written SO long ago but I deleted it because the ban. it’s gonna take you back to classic 2012 avengers era, which we all desperately need haha. I’m gonna be re-uploading all my deleted fics so get ready:)

♡if you enjoy this fic you’re welcome to leave a reblog/like/comment! feedback is not only welcomed but encouraged!♡

You were currently sitting in Tony’s office with Steve, the three of you sitting at one table. Pinching the bridge of your nose you said, “ Boys I don’t know how much longer I can talk about the next mission”.

Instantly Tony smirked, and you prepared yourself for a very sarcastic comment. Tony pouted, “ You’re just upset your favorite soldier isn’t here”. You felt a blush creep over your cheeks but you tried to play it cool.

Shrugging your shoulders you said, “ Maybe all this planning is getting to you too, Steve is right next to you”. Tony laughed, it was a valiant effort on your part but he knew you too well.

Steve tried to stop you both, “ Guys we still need to figure out our plan of attack and-”. Tony wouldn’t give up this easily, “ You know since we’re talking about planning, why don’t we help (y/n) plan when she’ll actually make a move on Barnes”.

This time you couldn’t play it cool, and you knew your face was even redder than before. Steve tried to come to your rescue, “ Come on Tony leave her alone, it’s private and-”.

Tony raised his hands, “ And what? It’s not too private when they have eye sex every time they’re in the same room”. Steve cleared his throat, trying not to picture both of his best friends having sex.

Trying to lighten the mood you said, “ It’s more eye masterbation because only one of us does it Tony”. You were convinced there’d be no way in hell that Bucky would ever feel the same way you did.

Bucky was one of the most incredible people you knew; insanely caring, understanding, and completely breathtaking. Your own insecurities made you feel like Bucky deserved way better than you.

Tony rolled his eyes, “ Don’t pull this crap (y/n) Barnes looks at you the same way you look at him! You’re too nervous to pick up on it”. You wanted Bucky so badly, but your nerves always got a hold of you.

Steve raised an eyebrow, “ I don’t know about the..eye sex...but he does look at you specially”. That meant a lot coming from the kid’s best friend, but you were still not 100% sold. Tony clapped his hands, “ Look there it is! His best friend since birth just told you he has the hots for you!”.

Laughing you said, “ I don’t know if it’s the hots I mean does he even like women any more?”. Tony laughed and you corrected yourself, “ Not in that way you iron giant idiot, I just mean it’s been awhile”.

Steve laughed, “ I can assure you he still likes women, but I don’t want to meddle any further in this..you’re both my best friends”. Tony’s smile grew bigger, and you felt yourself smiling too. Tony put his hands together, “ Come on Cap, throw the girl a bone! I know when you’re not telling the full truth”.

You felt butterflies in your stomach, wondering what Steve would say. Steve smirked, “Okay maybe Bucky likes just one woman, but he’d killed me if I said anything else yet”.

Tony yelled, “ YES I KNEW IT! BARNES HAS THE HOTS FOR (Y/N)!”. He was so excited it made you and Steve laugh. Steve didn’t say anything to protest, so you knew it was the truth.

It didn’t do anything to stop your nerves, but just made them worse. You had thought you were only a friend to Bucky..but that all just changed. Rolling your eyes you asked, “ So what’s the plan Stark?”.

Tony smirked, “ Well we do have the press event later tonight..” You were more of a behind the scenes kinda girl, and fancy events weren’t you’re thing. Tony also knew this, “ I know you hate all eyes on you but-”.

To your surprise Steve cut him off, “ It would be fun for Bucky to see you all dolled up..and it won’t be just the two of you there”. Steve did have a point, a crowded room meant less pressure.

Tony laughed, “ I’ll need to invent eye condoms to prepare for the looks you’ll give each other tonight”. You saw Steve blush from all this sex talk, and you laughed. Steve got up from the table, “ You two are bad together, I need to go pray or something”.

Playfully you yelled after him, “ Our rooms are next to each other Steve, don’t act so innocent!”. If Steve wasn’t red before, he was now. As he turned his head before leaving the room you saw a smile form upon his lips.

Tony was completely riled up now, “ God (y/n) that was perfect! I knew Captain perfect wasn’t so innocent!”. You rolled your eyes, knowing you’d just made things harder for your best friend.

Getting up you said, “ No one’s as innocent as they seem Tony”. You expected another comment from him, but he just stood there smirking. Laughing you asked, “ What cat suddenly got your tongue? I thought you could handle the sexual talk but-”.

Tony pointed behind you and you wanted to die when you turned around. There of course stood Bucky, with a smirk on his lips. Smirking he said, “ At first I felt bad about being late to the meeting but I guess you weren’t discussing work..”.

You stood there unsure of what to say, you hadn’t expected to see him so quickly. Tony got up, “ Oh that’s just the thing, we were discussing work”. With a wink, he left the room.

Bucky laughed, “ So what were you guys talking about?”. God why couldn’t he just pick up on how red your face was and change topics. Trying to not explode you said, “ Uh the press event tonight…”.

He just raised an eyebrow, “ And what does that have to do with sex?”. You felt your face getting redder, and saw his smirk growing. Thinking on your feet you replied with, “ Tony and I were joking to see if Steve would finally ask a girl to be his date...and hook up”.

Bucky just smiled, finally letting you off the hook..or so you thought. You went to leave the room but he reached for your arm, turning you around. Bucky bit his lip, “ Speaking of dates doll, I was wondering if you’d be mine?”.

You just blinked your eyes, was this really all happening? Smiling you tried to not sound so eager, “ I’d love to James”. His smile only grew, and so did yours. Opening the door for you he added, “ So then it’s a date”.

Luckily this time your back was to him, so he couldn’t see your blush. You went your separate ways down the hall, and tried not to freak out. With so much on your mind you weren’t paying attention.

Turning the corner you crashed into someone, and looking up you realized it was Nat and Clint. Extending a hand to help you up she asked, “ What’s got you so preoccupied?”. Before you could say anything Clint answered for you, “ Probably the fact that Barnes finally asked her out”.

You opened your mouth in shock but Clint just shrugged, “ Word travels fast in this compound”. There was no way anyone could’ve known, it had JUST happened. Nat smirked, “Or Tony bugged the room and texted us all”.

Clint groaned, “ Come on it totally added to our spy dynamic!”. You all just laughed, and you didn’t know whether or not to kill Tony. Thinking out loud you said, “..so now everyone knows?”.

Nat smirked once again, “ (y/n) we’ve all known for months...you’re not too stealthy”. Shaking your head you mentally cursed yourself, it was probably obvious to Bucky too. Clint added, “ And neither is Barnes...spy my ass”.

You laughed, “ Then I wonder why it took us so long”. Natasha and Clint just looked at each other, wondering who should answer. Clint smiled, “ Well that’s easy, up until this point you both have beat yourselfs up”.

Natasha added, “ Convinced yourself you weren’t good enough for the other, which isn’t true.'' They were speaking the truth. For effect Clint placed a hand on your shoulder, “ you’re too hard on yourself kid”.

You felt so lucky to have the friends you did. Placing a hand over your heart you responded, “ I love you guys”. Clint winked and Nat hugged you. Your phone buzzed and looking down you read a text from Tony, “ Event’s in a couple hours, surprise waiting in your room”.

Excited you explained, “ Tony says there’s a surprise in my room? Wanna check it out Nat?”. She hooked her arm with yours, and began walking towards your room. With tony it could be anything from a necklace to a full salon somehow built within seconds.

Opening your door you saw a black gift box on your bed, and an envelope on top. Opening it read, “ Find some hot little number to go with these, treat yourself”. In the card there was also Tony’s credit card.

Nat opened the box and saw Tony had gifted you gold stilettos, “ Sorry (y/n) I couldn’t help myself”. Your jaw dropped when you saw the pair of shoes, they were extremely expensive. Still in shock you exclaimed, “ I can’t believe Tony did all this”.

Natasha just smiled, “ He does love you (y/n), and he knows you make Bucky happy”. You just stood there smiling to yourself, once again feeling insanely lucky to have the friends you did. Taking the card you said, “ Well I guess I should listen to Tony right?”.

Laughing Natasha agreed, and you guys decided it was time for a trip to the mall. While leaving your room you ran into Steve, who seemed just as happy. Steve smiled, “ I know I said I wouldn’t meddle but now that Buck asked you out-”.

Nat cut him off, “ It only took two months of you convincing him too..”. Steve just blushed, he had been meddling. He raised his hands, “ Okay you got me, I just wanted to let (y/n) know navy blue is Buck’s favorite color”.

Smirking you said, “ Steve Rogers you mean to tell me this whole time you’ve known that Bucky likes me?’. Steve stood there for a moment, running a hand through his hair.

Finally he said, “ Well yes ...but I wanted to make sure Bucky was ready to actually make a move (y/n)....we both know it’s been hard adjusting for him”.

Nat smiled, “ Think of how much easier it would be with (y/n) by his side showing him the ropes”. Steve ignored her innuendo, still pretending to be innocent. You were unsure of how to feel, “ But why-”.

His blue eyes gazed down at you, “ I love you so much (y/n) and I love Bucky just as much. The last thing I wanted was the both of you getting hurt because of bad timing. Now he’s ready, which means I’ve turned my convincing to you”.

You couldn’t stay mad at Steve, especially when you realized he had good intentions. Smiling you said, “ You’re off the hook Rogers...now navy blue is his favorite color?”.

Steve’s smile returned, “ Yes, once he sees you in it he’ll go wild...even more wild than he already is.'' Nat whistled causing all three of you to laugh. Taking your hand she said, “ Looks like we have a super soldier to please..thank you Steve”.

He tipped his imaginary hat and let you both continue on your way. It sent shivers down your spine knowing you were aiming to please Bucky. It was a double edged sword; you wanted him to instantly get turned on when he saw you but were also scared of what would happen next.

When you went to the mall Nat instantly pulled you into Victoria’s Secret. She explained, “ I’m not saying things have to move this fast but if they do..I want him to be blown away”. You didn’t hide your insecurities, “ What if he doesn’t like what he sees? He could have anyone and-”.

Nat shut you up, “ Half the time I’m fighting I use my sex appeal to my advantage which means I know what lust looks like...and I’ve never seen someone lust after you the way Barnes does”.

Instantly you blushed, “ Really? You’re not just lying?”. She shook her head, “ You’re in your own world so you don’t see it but he looks at you like you’re the only thing on this world…”.

She continued, “ He looks at you like he doesn’t know whether or not he wants to devour you or savor every last bite”. You felt your face getting redder by the minute. Releasing a breath you replied, “ Fuck Nat...I had no idea”.

Leading you towards the matching sets of lingerie she laughed, “ That’s why it’s taken so long...I mean even Steve has commented on it..but he thought I wasn’t listening”. Absentmindedly you walked towards a black lace set.

As you touched the fabric you asked, “ What did Steve say? I thought he didn’t like to meddle”. Steve was a confusing man, but he was your best friend.

Natasha smirked, “ While talking to Sam he said, If I have to listen to Bucky talk about how badly he wants (y/n) one more time I think I’m gonna freeze myself..again”. You laughed, but also felt the desire grow inside you.

She casually spoke, “ Oh and you’re getting that set….it’s gonna make Bucky explode just looking at you”. The set was black lace, and included a thong and bra. It was much fancier than what you were used to, but you weren’t paying for it.

After buying it Natasha took you to another store where you found the perfect dress. It was an off the shoulder navy blue dress that went out at your waist. It would show your off cleavage perfectly, but was still classy enough.

From there you went back home and realized there was only two more hours until the event. When you walked back into the compound you passed Tony and Steve in the kitchen.

Tony was looking through something on his phone, “ I see you found what you were looking for, the stop at Victoria’s Secret had to be my favorite”. You realized he was looking at his bills.

You smiled, “ Well I figure it’s the price you’ll have to pay for always teasing me about him”. Steve laughed agreeing with your statement, Tony did do a lot of teasing. Tony shrugged his shoulders, “ Thank me later when you finally find out all the fun a metal arm can give you”.

Your jaw dropped at his comment, but Nat and him and enjoyed it. Steve chimed in, “Tony I’m going to pretend I didn’t understand that…(y/n) please leave before I have to say ten hail marys”.

Tony smirked, “ Come on Rogers, I can only imagine how pent up you are after 70 years frozen...that has to be a lot of-”. You clapped your hands, “ Tony I don’t want to see how you finish that sentence”.  

Nat added, “ God looks like Barnes and (y/n) aren’t the only ones with some pent up sexual tension”. That joked caused you and Nat to laugh, but the boys weren’t as amused. You both ran to your room laughing.

You opened your door and Nat plopped down onto your bed. Smiling she said, “ How about you shower and then I’ll help you with hair and makeup?”. You nodded your head, and she left your room.

When you got into the shower you took your time. You wanted to make sure every part of your skin was not only soft, but smelt heavenly. As the warm water hit your skin your mind drifted.

You thought back to what Nat had told you earlier, Steve saying Bucky talked about how much he wanted you. Instantly you thought about how good it would feel to have Bucky kiss up and down your body, his lips stopping to suck wherever he wanted.

How beautiful he probably sounded when he moaned ...what he’d sound like moaning your name. Thinking about the comment Tony had made earlier you thought about Bucky’s arm.

Part of you had always been turned on by his arm, you couldn’t explain it. Thinking about how the cold metal would feel against your skin made your core wet.

You started to massage your conditioner into your hair, and even then your thoughts turned dirty. A moan escaped your lips thinking about how good it would feel to have Bucky pull on your hair.

Finally you were done with your shower. Sitting there you saw Natasha waiting for you, along with Wanda. Nat just smirked, “Wonder what you were thinking about in there?”.

You blushed, “ Uh nothing really..just nervous for tonight”. Wanda and Natasha just looked to each other with knowing smiles. Wanda added, “ You didn’t sound nervous from that moan…”.

Blushing even more you asked, “ Come on guys, don’t start teasing me now too”. They just laughed, and dropped it.  They both already had their hair and makeup done, and were ready to help you.

Looking at your phone you realized there was a little over an hour left until the event. Wanda smiled, “ Should I do hair while Natasha does makeup?”. You all agreed that would be the plan.

Wanda decided that she would do loose curls for your hair, simple but sexy. She giggled, “ Can I tell you a secret?”. You nodded and he smile only grew.

She began, “ I know it’s bad but I’ve been listening to Bucky’s thoughts every once and awhile and you should hear what he thinks about…”.

Natasha was instantly sold, “ Don’t leave out any of the dirty details”. You felt your stomach drop, wondering what Bucky might think about.

Wanda giggled, “ He thinks about you when he uh...pleasures himself…”. You gasped, and Nat just smiled. You felt yourself get a little turned on. Wanda continued, “ You know how you call him James?”

You raised an eyebrow, “ Yeah but I’ve done that since we met...it is his name”. You loved using his real name when talking to him. Wanda shook her head, “ It’s drives him wild (y/n)”.

You blushed, “ I called him it earlier…”. God did that mean you turned him on earlier? Nat laughed, “ Well looks like tonight is going to be eventful”. You could tell by her smile that Wanda wasn’t done.

Finishing your hair she leaned against your vanity, to face you. She bit her lip, “ Want to know the most interesting part?”. You all too eagerly said yes, as did Natasha.

Wanda smirked, “ Bucky’s even made Steve talk about you in that way..”. That wasn’t something you pictured ever happening. Surprised you asked, “ What has Steve said?”.

Raising an eyebrow she explained, “ Well Bucky asked what Steve thought you would be like in bed and-”. You thought you’d fall right out of your seat, that wasn’t a conversation you pictured them having.

Wanda mimicked Steve, “ Well Buck she pretends to be innocent but I know (y/n)’s the type that wants you to push her up against a wall and make her scream out your name for everyone to hear”.

You gasped, “ So much for not meddling! I never thought Steve would tell anyone that?”. Wanda just shrugged her shoulders, obviously not having an answer for it either.

Nat brought her makeup over to your vanity, setting it all up. Turning around she asked, “What do mean tell anyone? Are you telling me you’ve talked about sex with Steve Rogers?”.

Laughing you answered, “ He is my best friend….it doesn’t happen all the time but when it does we promise to act like it doesn’t.'' Wanda and Natasha were both shocked, their image of Steve changing.

Wanda giggled, “ So then what Steve said is true?”. By now Nat had started doing your makeup, already done with foundation and concealer. Smirking you said, “ I know I’m shy but even though we’re all so close there’s other sides to me”.

Nat continued doing your makeup, “ I can see it..always the quiet ones”. That was a true quote, you seemed innocent but you weren’t. Wanda asked, “ Well then does that mean Bucky now knows that?”.

You decided it was a good question, “ Maybe I should text Steve and ask then”. The girls didn’t say anything, and continued talking. Natasha was already halfway through your makeup.

You typed out, “ Steve fucking Rogers I have a bone to pick with you. Did you tell Bucky how I like things on the rougher side!?”. Within a second you got a text back from Steve asking you to explain.

Your second text read, “ Don’t play dumb, you know I mean someone being dominant with me! Hair pulling..dirty talk...come on Captain Idiot”. Placing your phone back down you let Nat continue to do your makeup, now moving on to eyeshadow.

Within a minute you got a text back, “ Hate to do this to you doll...but this ain’t Steve”. Instantly you got butterflies in your stomach, the only person that would have Steve’s phone is Bucky.

You got another text, “ It’s Buck...Steve let me borrow his phone to text you telling you I’ll be there to pick you up in 30”. You wanted to die right then and there, your luck was completely off today.

Before you could answer you got one last text, “ I want to feel bad doll but I don't ...this is all a turn on for me”. You let out a squeal and Nat took the phone from you, reading everything out loud.

Wanda gasped while Natasha just stood there with a smirk on her face, “ Shit Barnes really likes you”. You had no idea how to reply, there was about a thousand things you wanted to say...but you were too scared.

Nat crossed her arms over her chest, “ Come on (y/n) there’s no way you can be nervous anymore!”. She did have a point, you knew now how Bucky felt about you. You should just go for it.

Smirking you took the phone back, “ I have the perfect thing to say”. If Bucky wanted to tease you, you’d tease him right back. You replied with, “ Let’s see who’s all smug later tonight, James”.

Nat shook her head, “ God you’re a tease (y/n)! Ending it by calling him James...PERFECT. '' From that moment Nat worked faster to finish your makeup, not wanting you to stress about being late.

Fifteen minutes later she finished, and the end result was amazing. She gave you a gold eyeshadow look; fake eyelashes, winged liner, and all. For lipstick she gave you a deep red, making your lips pop.

There was actual gold glitter on your lid, and you wanted to die of happiness. Once she finished she smiled, “ Well Wanda, looks like our work here is done”. They left your room five minutes later, leaving you to change.

You started by first putting on the set you bought from Victoria’s Secret, smiling when you say yourself in the mirror. Next you slipped into your blue dress, and finally your heels. You had to admit you looked damn good.

About a minute later there was a knock on your door, and you got goosebumps. Opening it you realized it was Bucky, ready to pick you up. Before he even said anything, he looked you up and down while biting his lip.

You blushed, “ Steve said blue was your favorite color”. Your voice snapped Bucky out of his daydream. He smirked, “ Anything on you is my favorite color Doll...damn”. His comment made your smile only grow.

He extended his hand, “ We have a party to attend, and about a hundred people to make jealous”. You took his hand as he lead you towards the elevator. As the doors of the elevator closed you asked, “ People to make jealous?”.

Bucky pressed the penthouse button, “ I have the most beautiful date, everyone’s gonna wish they were with you”. It warmed your heart to know Bucky felt so honored to be with you. Smiling you said, “ You’re too kind James”.

As the doors opened he let out a groan, “ God doll you’re gonna be the end of me”. You laughed as he once again took your hand. Together you walked to the penthouse level of Stark Towers.

There were hundreds of people there, all doing their own things. You would’ve felt nervous but you had Bucky by your side. As you walked into the event together, tons of people turned their attention to you both.

Bucky whispered into your ear, “ See doll? All jealous. '' You smiled once again and you walked towards the bar but Bucky lead you towards the dance floor. Shaking your head you said, “ No James I can’t-”.

He grinned, “ Nope doll you CAN and you will!”. Looking to your left you saw all your closest friends sitting at the bar, smiling seeing you and Bucky. Tony yelled to you both, “ This one’s for you Barnes”.

Suddenly the music changed too, “ Dream a Little Dream of Me” by Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong. Bucky pulled you to the center of the dance floor, but before he did he yelled back thank you.

Stars shining bright above you, Night breezes seem to whisper "I love you"

Birds singing in the sycamore trees, Dream a little dream of me

Steve laughed turning to Tony, “ How’d you know this was his favorite dancing song?”. Steve could remember going out dancing and watching Bucky dancing to this song a hundred times. Tony just smirked, “ I’m all knowing Rogers”.

Bucky took your hand in his, and pressed his body against yours. His knee was in between your legs, your bodies insanely close. He sang the words softly into your ear, and you felt yourself getting even more turned on.

Say nighty-night and kiss me, Just hold me tight and tell me you'll miss me

While I'm alone and blue as can be

Your bodies swayed together slowly to the beat, and nothing else mattered in the world. His other hand rested on the small of your back, guiding you further. You rested your head against his chest, and it all felt so right.

Stars fading but I linger on dear, Still craving your kiss

I'm longing to linger till dawn dear, Just saying this

You couldn’t see it, but Bucky was smiling just as big. This was the first time things had made so much sense in a long time. He remembered dancing to this song a hundred times, but it never feeling like this.

You brought your head up to hold his gaze, looking deeply into his eyes. He spun you out, only to pull you right back in. Bucky finally had you, and he wanted to keep you close. You felt butterflies while dancing with him.

Sweet dreams till sunbeams find you, Sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you

But in your dreams whatever they be, Dream a little dream of me

Bucky spun you around, but when he pulled you back this time he dipped you. His face was inches from yours as he looked down at you. Instinctively you brought your hand to cup his cheek.

His smile only grew as he held your gaze. You both were completely lost in the moment, unaware the entire room was watching you. Bucky leaned down even more, and finally placed his lips on yours.

As the kiss continued you ran a hand through his hair, causing him to groan. Finally he brought you back up right, both of your hands pressed against his chest. He bit his lip, “ Fuck princess you’re perfect”.

The entire room cheered for you both, loving such an adorable moment. Smiling you asked, “ Why don’t we go enjoy ourselves somewhere else?”. Bucky’s eyes gleamed at the idea, wanting you all to himself.

Hand and hand you raced out of the room. Ignoring all the cheers and hollering from your closest friends. Your moment was ruined when there was already some random man in the elevator.

Bucky rested against the back wall, and pulled you to rest against him, your back to him. After telling the man what floor he turned his attention to you.

He wrapped his hands around your waist and whispered in your ear, “ God doll I wish I could pin you up against this wall and take you right now”. You were taken off guard and let out a squeal.

Bucky just laughed, loving the effect he had on you. He started to kiss down your neck, not caring that someone else was in the elevator with you. Softly you said, “ James please”. You felt him moan against your skin.

The elevator dinged and the doors opened, meaning you were on your floor. Bucky lead you towards his room as fast as he could. Not wanting to waste any more time. The second his door closed he picked you up.

You wrapped your legs around him, “ Someone’s a little eager huh?”. He just laughed but threw you onto his bed. Bucky crawled towards you, “ When you look like that how could anyone want to wait?”.

It was your turn to laugh, how did he always know how to make you smile? Bucky rested his back against his headboard, bringing you to straddle him. He kissed you again, sliding your dress up your thighs with his hands.

You broke the kiss to help pull your dress over your head, wanting it off just as badly. Bucky smirked, “ Looks like I’m not the only eager one”. You rolled your eyes, but brought your lips back to his.

Bucky’s eyes widened, “ Sweet jesus doll you look so fucking amazing”. You blushed, remembering what you were wearing. He turned your head towards him by placing a finger under your chin, “ Don’t tell me you’re still shy”.

You bit your lip, “ I just didn’t think you’d ever think this way about me James”. He shook his head, how were you so perfect? Bucky placed his hands on your hips, “ You’re the most beautiful person I know (y/n)”.

Your face was still red as he continued, “ I didn’t think anyone could ever make me feel alive again...but you do...you make being here so much easier”. You rested your hands on his now bare chest.

Bucky paused for a moment, looking like he was summoning up courage. As he looked you deeply in the eyes he smiled, “ I love you (y/n)”. You thought you could die right then and there.

You cupped his face in both hands, “ I love you so much James”. He crashed his lips into yours, preserving the moment. His hands ran up and down your body, exploring every inch he could.

As the kiss continued you help Bucky slid out of the rest of his clothes, and he did the same to you. Smirking he said, “ You look damn good in this, but you’ll look even better out of it” as he took off your bra and panties.

Your nipples hardened as the cold air hit them. He brought his mouth to your left breast, sucking and lightly nibbling your nipple. This caused you to moan loudly, “ James I need more”.

Bucky brought his hand to you massage your clit but you stopped him, and he looked up at you confused. Biting your lip you asked, “ Can you..uh..use your metal arm?”. His pupils darkened at your request as lust filled his eyes.

He moaned out loud, “ I fucking love you (y/n)”. Using his metal arm Bucky began to massage slow circles around your clit. You bucked your hips forward, needing more from him.

All too soon he took his hand away, and you groaned. Surprisingly Bucky brought his fingers to his mouth and sucked, licking your juices off of them.

You watched him with your mouth wide open, insanely turned on. He just sat there smirking, “ You taste even better than I imagined”. You pulled him closer to you, kissing him again.

Bucky flipped you so you were now rested on your back. He took his hard member in one hand and pressed it against your slit teasing you. Looking down at you he asked, “ Tell me what you want princess”.

Hooking an arm around his neck you said, “ Fuck me James, pleasee I need you inside of me”. Bucky turned his head to the side and let out an animalistic moan. Bucking his hips forward he asked, “ Say my name again doll”.

Looking him deeply in the eyes you repeated, “ James I need you”. With that he entered himself inside of you, and you hooked a leg around his back. Feeling his huge cock fill you up made you instantly moan.

Bucky was just as needy as you were, and he thrusted deeply and quickly inside of you. He started to kiss down your neck again, sucking on your sweet spots making you moan. All you could do was moan his name, which only drove him crazier and crazier.

He shifted again so you were now on top of him riding him. Placing his hands on your hips, he said, “ I needed to see you riding my cock doll”. You started to bounce up and down as he bucked his hips up.

With his grip on your hips he pushed you down onto him deeper, hitting your g-spot. You barely got out, “ I’m gonna cum Bucky”. This caused him to go even faster, thrusting deeper inside of you.

Inbetween growls he got out, “ Cum for me babygirl, fucking cum for me”. His words pushed you over the edge, sending you right into orgasm.

Your orgasm shook throughout your entire body, like an earthquake. Every single nerve in your body felt like it was shaking. Wave after wave of pleasure washed over you, and all you could do was yell out his name.

As you felt him twitch inside you, Bucky was feeling his own orgasm. For him it felt like a tsunami of pleasure washed over him. Each wave sending every nerve in his body into extreme pleasure. He yelled out your name, the only thing his brain could process.

Together you panted, riding out your orgasms. When you caught your breath you felt beside him, and he laughed. He turned on his side to face you, “ I could listen to you call me James every second of every day”.

You turned on your side too, “ Well we do have some lost time to make up for…”. Bucky just smiled as he pulled you into his chest, wanting to hold onto you forever. He kissed your forehead, “ I love you (y/n), always will”.

♡if you enjoy this fic you’re welcome to leave a reblog/like/comment! feedback is not only welcomed but encouraged!♡

[ayakashiramblings]

Dawn and Twilight’s Social Media Accounts

Kuya

@NevermoreButSnore.

1230 followers.

Yes, I copied Edgar Allan Poe. Yes, I’m not sorry about the rhyme. Or calling him out. 

Not that he really cares.

Insists that he is a headcanon creator on Twitter 

Everyone who follows him knows that he is lying. 

If we really had to classify him as a writer, it would one who posts those way-too-accurate posts about writers complaining about writing. 

Like the notebook hoarding one. Not that anyone here in the fandom is guilty of that, haha... haha... ha.

Ironically is one of the more popular ones out of the whole group. 

His flat responses and laziness are way too prominent to NOT be noticed. 

If you actually tentatively sneak into his DMs though, for writing tips, he will patiently listen and... rather bluntly advise you. 

It’s still advice though and is always the type to check out and reblog any short fanfics.

It just has to be weird, sporadic hours because he is the type to fall asleep with the phone on his face. 

Koga Kitamikado

1230 followers.

@CapitalKayKay

Listen, there is a reason why a lot of successful businesses chose Instagram as their social media so Koga is no exception. 

What makes his account stand out, as you can see from his rather cheeky username, is that he is willing to be an open book. 

So he isn’t constantly shoving down any products he is sponsoring or whatever piece he is endorsing. 

It’s more of genuinely wanting to hang out and explore what the world has to offer. 

Whenever he posts a picture of the gang together, he’s the one tagging all of them, even the ones with hard usernames.

And there’s always a nice comment thanking whoever hosted the fun time or being appreciative of the area and the locals.

It helps that he has a sense of humour so the memes are always just the right amount of teasing but nothing too bad that will deter potential clients.

Because of his down-to-earth nature, he reels everyone in.

Uses the space to invite everyone following him on any celebration/casual outing.

The thing is... he has a lot of followers.

So... good luck.

Aoi

1150 followers.

@DeredArtTooTsun

Look, even he knows he is a Tsundere. It’s a small victory getting him to acknowledge that, let alone use it to brand himself here.

But god, he’s the man I’m most jealous of on Tumblr.

PERFECT BULLET JOURNALS AND SKETCHES.

Got the spreads that literally define ‘aesthetic’, a perfect lineup of art materials even with pencils that have their numbers faded, and somehow, the emotions can pass through the paper and screen.

Even does tutorials on perspectives, positions with cute annotations. Just don’t praise them for being adorable though and focus on improving your skills, dummy.

Ironically though, it’s his mindless vents that get the most number of notes.

It helps that the pics include him, a very cute... I mean... manly boy screaming at very, very hot men.

A bit baffled but whatever it takes to get commissions. 

That’s right, he takes them. At least there is a back-up option should the restaurant ever go out of business. 

Spoiler Alert: Still doesn’t get paid as much. People, have you seen the number of talented artists here? Aoi might be in the rankings but it’s still hard attracting business.

Support your fandom artists, everyone!

Ginnojo

1000 followers. Just nice.

Ginnojoz

Poor grandpa didn’t intend to put that extra ‘z’ letter, it was a typo because scales don’t get along with haptic touch. 

And unfortunately, doesn’t understand how to change it. 

Once, he was huge on Vine before it died. The end of an era that he has to witness again. RIP.

Gin-Gin, it is RIGHT. THERE.

Expect to find his super short self-defence videos and Book Club Readings on YouTube.

Girls actually appreciate his instructions and attempts to provide help even if they are alone. 

He did try to respond to the nice ones and actually succeeds. 

It’s always easier getting to know the language of women when you don’t really see/touch them.

A deep baritone is perfect for some sexy excerpt of a historical novel... 

Until he corrects the setting.

In fact, he sometimes rage-quits and rewrites it. 

Unlike Kuya, him doing those established ideas actually catches on. 

Yura and Gaku

1500 followers.

MelodyandTheBeat. 

... Tik-tokers. Tik-Tok people? 

WTH do you call them?

As you can see, they are the most popular since it’s combined stardom.

Look, their covers and music mixes are beautiful.

They always have their own version that somehow combines traditional Japanese music... with k-pop.

And of course, food porn. 

Just be grateful there isn’t that awful squelching sound you hear when you consume jelly or the breaking of chilli seeds. 

Listen, I usually separate them because it’s never nice to be grouped as having the same activity as your twin. 

But in this case, being both equally beautiful AND talented sells their uploads. 

Even the cringy ones made because Yura is such a Luddite. 

Like just turning his head and being amazed his hair can turn so many colours, being impressed with each tilt until he gets to a black shade. 

Suddenly hurls the phone away. Gee, wonder why? Guess black isn’t the new... black for him?

Gaku sometimes even introduces new filters he created based on Yura’s random requests that strangely get circulated on the site. 

Oji

550 followers all know Oji-Sanz

Unlike Ginnojo, he deliberately adds the ‘z’ letter to sound cool.

You wanna know what’s worse? 

He actually uses Facebook. 

Aoi decides to give up on him. Nobody blames the poor student.

It’s apparently some old form of social media? Never used it, no sirree. 

Always changing his relationship status but at the end of the day, he’s single and ready... 

To post about all the lovely ladies destined to enter his restaurant. 

He thinks it’s great publicity. 

It really isn’t but one good thing about Oji is he includes EVERYONE.

This man respects his customers and always helps advertise their wares, especially if their connections lead to more resources. 

And less grocery shopping on his part.

Does post the recipes he and Aoi created but will never use because the Milk Hall had a certain style to follow.

Officially makes Aoi his son... on Facebook at least. 

Aoi now tolerates the account. 

Barely. 

Toichiro Yuri

WhatheMeSay has 1231 followers! 

In your face @CapitalKayKay and @NevermorebutSnore!!

You know, I’m so glad that there aren’t any users with those names because I’d be so scared of accidentally tagging them.

Also, geddit? Because... What the fox say? 

Ding, ding, ding, ding, ding... yeah, I’ll stop.

Pinterest Guy. And actually does spend on his ‘hobby’ to show off to everyone.

It does boost you and your father’s sales so there is nothing to complain about. 

His boards are always alliterated just to sound super catchy and it works so long as he gets the right emoji. 

Kabuki plays better be promoted or else.

Filled with candid pictures of his victims all taken at different angles you didn’t know were possible and in varying degrees of hilariously misunderstood positions.

He even supplies a donation link, heavily leveraged by his followers, since there are incentives tied to it like early access.

A bit suspicious the photos look like cropped out parts from Koga’s posts and some of the text resembles Kuya’s... er... wisdom?

He takes an unholy amount of selfies when he thinks no one is looking and so they are always surprised upon finding them on the Selfie Board. 

There is a locked board that no one can access, even his followers who are his comrades in real life. 

It’s actually just one picture in there. 

It’s you smiling and giggling at a joke of his. Not even you know it’s been taken. Guess he is as soft as his fur, eh? He better come out soon or else.

Kuro

Kuroruohtumbling

Ginnojo is unfortunately just old enough to have grown up with Scooby-Doo to understand the reference.

Snapchat, like a snapping snake! Hiss!

Unironically loves the puppy face.

Ok, but the glimpses of his stunts help show snippets of the circus life. 

He and his whole troupe family will even don costumes best suited for certain filters.

Sometimes ropes in Ginnojo... and by sometimes, I mean enough for everyone to start wondering if the stoic man is part of the act. 

To be fair, he randomly hugs people and ranks them here.

You, of course, were number 1. 

Now, if only he didn’t use the bloody song to announce it but you forgive him.

Maybe even risks revealing his ayakashi form before deleting the message to you.

Loves making international fans and learning various languages through each post, sort of like flashcards but animated and more fun!

And with 1200 followers, he might become a polyglot like Koga.

Shizuki 

Everyone bans him from creating one. 

Because they know the power of his roasts is too great. 

Little do they know he goes undercover. 

Underground.

And under their noses.

That’s right. His rant town on... MySpace. 

Unapologetically uses a good chunk of his salary from serving the House of Yuri just to get nifty themes that help with the whole burning process. 

Look, there’s a reason he and Oji are friends. 

This is why. 

Their taste in women seems fine but we really have got to do something about their affinity towards DEAD PLACES.

To be fair, he made the whole thing drunk but that doesn’t mean he should maintain it SOBER.

He just feels that it is a waste of space if he doesn’t utilize it. 

And it also becomes kind of cathartic. From the intrusive hugs to his master and Sir Gaku irking each other to no end, he needs it. 

Zero followers... but only because it’s super private. 

It becomes 1 the moment you jokingly create an account. 

[suchalonelysunflower]

You Broke Me First (C.H)

Pairing: former FWB!Calum X Reader

Requested: Yes!

Summary: Based on the song “You Broke Me First” by Tate McRae. You are trying to forget about the man who broke your heart, so it’s a surprise when his name appears on your phone again.

Warnings: Angst af. Language. Mild Smut. Mentions of Alcohol and cheating. Probably one or two grammar mistakes (English is not my first language, I’m sorry)

Word count: 5K

Author’s Note: Requested by the lovely @thebasicbitch-things ✨ I loved writing this piece, maybe because I love the song so much, so thank you for requesting it and I hope I made it justice 💕. Feedback, reblogs and comments are always welcome and appreciated it! You can read my other works HERE. Happy reading! 🦋

@thebasicbitch-things : Can you write a Calum imagine based off the song You Broke me first by Tate McRae?? Like I’m just in a weeping mood. Thank you xxx

Maybe you don't like talking too much about yourself

But you shoulda told me that you were thinkin' 'bout someone else

You're drunk at a party or maybe it's just that your car broke down

Your phone's been off for a couple months, so you're calling me now

The liquid burns your throat, but you don’t really feel it anymore. When the heat starts spreading around the rest of your body is when you know you need another one. And another one. And another one. Anything to keep him from your mind.

It’s ironic how the memory of him still lingers on, even more with every drink you drown. Well, it’s not so ironic as it is shitty. But it’s at times like this, when you’re at a random club in the middle of the night surrounded by strangers trying to create stories of their own while all you want to do is forget, that the only thing your mind can focus on is him.

A year ago:

“Babe?” You heard his voice as he exited the bathroom. Still shirtless and with his boxers on, hanging loosely “Are you okay?”

You sat down on the bed, your naked skin barely covered by the messy sheets “Mhmm” you mumbled, still zooned out in your own thoughts and worries as you saw Calum grab his shirt and jeans from the floor.

It was always the same. He would call or text, you would meet with any excuse, hang out for a while before moving to the bedroom. The same old story of friends who fuck each other, with the same old ending every night: you in your bed watching him get dressed and close the door on his way out.

“Do you really have to leave?” You asked, already knowing the answer.

“I have to”

“No, you don’t have to”

“Y/N…”

You hated that condescending tone. Not only that, but you hated yourself, too. You and this whole messy situation you got yourself into. You didn’t know how bad of an idea it was to accept his proposal of friends with benefits when you already had feelings for him. But who could say no to Calum Hood? Especially with the hopes of becoming something more along the way.

At the beginning it was all you could dream of. The night seemed endless when he hold you close to him, breathing the same air as your bodies collided with each other, creating messes as you explored every inch of skin you had to offer, seeing stars explode with every right touch, hearing each other’s names like prayers coming from your parting lips. It was almost like you couldn’t get enough, almost.

“What? God, Calum, would it kill you to stay the night just once? Would it ruin your reputation of a heartthrob batchellor?”

“What has gotten into you?” He asked in confusion at your sudden outburst “You know the rules of this”

“Oh, the rules. Fuck them”

The rules were simple: Never overstaying, no exclusivity, don’t let others find out, never do anything public… but most importantly: Never fall in love. You had agree to that once, but most certainly broken almost every rule. You’ve fallen in love with him.

“Y/N…”

“It hurts, Calum” You said with glossy eyes “It hurts when you leave, and I- I can’t watch you do that anymore”

Calum’s eyes soften a bit. Debating whether or not he should stay. But after a pleading “Please” from your lips he caved in, laying down on the bed next to you, pulling you closer to him.

You smiled, allowing yourself to drift away in dreams and hopes of him laying next to you for the rest of your lives. Little did you know that those dreams were to be crushed next morning when you find an empty bed and a note with a little ‘sorry’ scribbled on it.

That was the first nights of many where he would lay down with you. Sometimes he would stay till morning and share a cup of coffee with you at breakfast. Other times he would disappear as a ghost in the middle of the night, only leaving the marks on your body as proof of his presence. It hurted, but at least you didn’t watch him walk away. You never watched as he did.

Took a while, was in denial when I first heard

That you moved on quicker than I could've ever, you know that hurt

Swear for a while I would stare at my phone just to see your name

But now that it's there, I don't really know what to say

You feel your friend’s grasp on your arm as they drag you down to the dance floor. Pulling you away from your own pity party as you watch how they sway to the beat of a song you’ve never heard of, soon joining them with the alcohol in your veins rushing towards your brain and taking control of your every move. ‘Tonight is not about Calum’ you tell yourself as you let the music take you away, already feeling the effects of the one too many shots you did earlier. But some things are easier said than done.

It’s funny, how after so many months of not seeing each other you can still feel him in your skin. You memorized the way his hands wrapped around your waist and the smell of his cologne. You could still feel his breath on your neck, the burning kisses he used to leave and the whispers that got lost inside a dream. Even now that you are dancing along to an ear shattering beat, the rhythm of your heart still beats and longs for him.

You can feel yourself in the dire need of another drink, desperate to push those memories away and cleanse yourself from his touch once and for all. You don’t care how many nights it would take, how many people or how many hangovers. You are determined to get that boy out of your system, where he won’t hurt you anymore.

“Y/N!” Your friend yells over the music, gesturing towards your hand “Your phone is glowing!”

You bring your phone to your face, trying to focus on the image that’s plastered across the screen. A name pops up, a name you haven’t seen in so long.

Muttering an “Oh fuck” you press ‘decline’ over and over again, until Calum stopped calling.

Seven months ago:

It’s been two weeks since you last heard from him. It’s been two weeks since he left you alone in a fuzz. It’s been two weeks since he slammed the door and he still hasn’t called.

Maybe he was right and you fucked everything up. But you were sure of your words, you know there’s truth to them, so you stan by them. He will soon realize his mistake, he has to. He wouldn’t leave you like that, would he? He must know he hurt you, he must. The words he said… they are like tattoos on your mind, they don’t seem to fade with time. But you knew it wasn’t entirely your fault. You were as guilty as he was.

For the past two weeks you’ve been glued to your screen, hoping for his name to appear. Taping your screen randomly to see if you’ve gotten a text or a call or a dm or even a fucking email. But nothing ever came.

It wasn’t until you were scrolling down Twitter that you saw it.

It was a paparazzi photo, he was wearing a classic tee and the sweatpants you once told him were your favorite on him. His hair was longer, or at least it seemed like it, his eyes avoiding the cameras as he walked through the busy streets of LA as he normally would. The only difference is the hand that was holding his.

A lump formed in your throat as you opened the tweet to find a thread of even more pictures of him with the mysterious person, grabbing them by the waist and smiling as they came closer. The paparazzi seemed to catch every single intimate moment he was able to show in public, much more than he ever showed you when you were both out and sober, at least. But Calum seemed happy, and that hurt you the most.

A thousand questions ran through your head as you ignored the happy tweets from fans celebrating that his favorite band member finally got a significant other. How long has this been going on? Did he ever tell you about it? You never claim exclusivity, so it could’ve had happen when you were still ‘together’, meaning he choose them. He left you and chose them, replacing you and everything you didn’t get to have without even saying goodbye.

Swallowing the bitterness of the memory with a shot of tequila, you press decline once again and order another drink. What would you say to him anyway? Would you curse him? Would you kiss him? Would he even apologize or pretend that it never happened? The truth is, you don’t even want to know.

You catch some flirty eyes from across the bar, but you ignore them as you try to collect your thoughts on this whole situation, and besides, don’t need another heartbreak at the moment.

“That guy hasn’t taken his eyes off you since he came in” Said the bartender, pouring you another drink.

You lift your gaze towards ’pretty eyes’ over the bar, but he already seemed to have lost interest in you as his eyes scattered all over the room, looking for another person to spend his time with.

“Doesn’t seem like it” You nod toward the other end of the bar.

“What? No, not him. Him!”

They point behind you and you turn around quickly, a pretty bad idea considering how drunk you are at the moment. But wasted or not, you would recognize those eyes anywhere.

Calum is standing in the middle of a sea of people, but his eyes are solemnly focusing on you as he raises his phone to his ear, raising his eyebrows as he hears the dial tone. Almost immediately, your phone starts ringing next to you with the all too familiar name popping out again.

Without breaking eye contact, you press decline once again, standing up quickly as you start to walk up to the nearest exit, trying to get away from him as fast as you could. ‘Tonight is not about Calum’ you told yourself earlier that night, and yet there he was, pushing his way through a drunk crowd to get towards you.

“Y/N!” You hear him call, but you are not stopping. You don’t need this confrontation right now. You don’t want to see him or talk to him. You want to forget him and everything you ever did.

Feeling like your chest is going to explode at any second, you accelerated your pace, not caring how many people you have to push to get to the door as long as he doesn’t find you. Your legs, however, had other plans as they give out due to the mix dizziness and adrenaline you were feeling, just mere meters from the exit. You curse your past self for having so many drinks as you try to get up. But, soon enough, you feel an arm rounding around your waist and pulling you to your feet.

After almost eight months you find yourself reflected in those eyes again. The same eyes that made you feel butterflies in your stomach everytime he looked your way. You couldn’t help but get drawn into them, remembering that the last time you saw them they replaced the desire with anger, shaking you to your core.

He was saying something, you were sure of it because his mouth is moving “What?!”

“I said, Why aren’t you answering your phone?!” He yelled over the music. Your drunk mind can’t decide if you want to slap him or kiss him or cry right there on the spot.

“That’s none of your business! Now please let go of me, I want to go home”

You push yourself away from his grasp “Y/N, please I need to ta-“ He interrupted himself as he watched you almost trip over your own feet again, clearly too drunk to stand straight. In a matter of seconds, he was by your side again, this time pulling your arm over his shoulders so you could lay on him “Wha- How many drinks did you have?”

“As many as I needed” You scoffed, trying to pull away, but his grip on your waist was stronger.

“For what?! Drown yourself?”

“I needed to forget you” Calum clenches his jaw, feeling like his heart was shattered into a million pieces “But that’s clearly not working, given that you are here. Would you please let me go?”

“Y/N you are too drunk to function,”

“Am not!”

“Please, let me take you home. I need to talk to you”

“Leave me alone, Calum. I don’t need you and I most definitely don’t want to talk to you”

You turn your face to him. It has been a long time since you last saw him. He has more curls now, and a little five o’clock shadow, but his yes,,, oh, his eyes. The time stops, or at least it feels like it, it was almost like the first time you saw them, magnetic and filled with something you couldn’t decipher, but now they had something different. They were hurting, pleading, almost begging you for something you didn’t quite understand at the moment, but you know you couldn’t say no to those eyes, at least not here and not in your condition.

So after making sure you could stand properly, you caved “Fine”

I know you, you're like this

When shit don't go your way you needed me to fix it

And like me, I did

But I ran out of every reason

The car ride was as silent as a tomb. The sounds of the city night and the flashing of streetlights were your only source of distraction. You looked through the window, not wanting to make any eye contact with the man that broke your heart. He, however, was anxious for you to spare a glance towards him. Calum’s fingers taped the steering wheel nervously, he wanted to fill the silence with something, anything. But his words came short as he realized that you weren’t the person he knew, you were a stranger sitting in his car. The clothes you were wearing, the state of drunkenness you were in, the anger behind your eyes and words, and the fact that you couldn’t even stan him touching you… that was not the Y/N he knew.

Once you reached the house, you didn’t even wait for him to turn the car off as you practically jumped out of the seat and went to open the door. Calum quickly following you, half of him afraid that you might hurt yourself, the other half afraid that you would lock him out.

He let out a breath of relief as you let him in. Remembering the last time he was here.

Seven and a half months ago:

It was a normal afternoon for the two of you. Things were going well, Calum started to be more open towards you, spending the night, cuddling and hanging out more without the promise of sleeping together afterwards and you loved it. You were having fun as well, you would walk Duke together or cook dinner or just exist together by watching a movie or listening to his favorite songs that you “absolutely needed to hear” And today was no different as you cuddled with him watching one of Netflix’s crappy teenage movies. Things were going well, or so you thought.

You were straddling him, lips melting together as the movie was long forgotten. His hands were cupping your ass, setting a slow pace with your hips as you grinded on him. You whole body was on fire, ready to burst when his lips made their way down your neck, leaving marks that you would later trace with your fingers as you try to hide them.

“Calum,” You moaned softly as he found your sweet spot under your ear, sucking and biting it like only he knew how. Your hands flew to the back of his head, fingers lost in his hair, tugging it lightly every time he met your hips with a dry thrust.

He groaned, drunk to sounds you were making. He loved the effect he had on you, almost as much as the effect you had on him. It was addictive, dangerous. He knows he shouldn’t play with fire, but what a lovely way to burn it was.

You moaned again when you felt his teeth grazing your jaw, finding their way to your lips again. The rolling of your hips was faster, more desperate than before, the friction was almost unbearable. You needed him with a passion “C-Calum…”

“Tell me what you want, baby” He said with a raspy voice, breathing onto your neck “Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you”

You shuddered at his words, getting dizzy with his touch, his soft groans and his eyes filled with lust, looking straight into your soul, burning like the sun.

You grabbed his head by the sides, pulling him closer until your foreheads pressed together “You” you whispered loud enough for him to hear “I want all of you, Calum”

A couple of hours passed and you were still laying on the sofa, cuddled against the naked chest of the bassist. His fingers were caressing your sides as both of your breathings became even, coming out of your highs.

You felt infinite in his arms, safe and wanted. You wanted this to last forever, to have him only for yourself and be his everything. You craved for more intimate looks, for innocent touches while in public, you wanted to show the world how in love you were with this man that has, not only conquered your heart, but also your soul. You loved him, and you hope with your whole heart that he loves you too.

“What’s on your mind?” He asked, drawing circles down your arm.

You debated on whether to tell him the truth or not. You knew Calum had always denied himself the possibility of love, stating time and again that he doesn’t really believe in it. But you’ve seen a change in him for the last few months you were together. He was more caring, more attentive, staying longer than he should and being there for you when you needed, not only for a quick fuck anymore. Maybe the chances of him loving you back were not as low as you thought.

“I meant what I said earlier, you know?” You ventured, lifting your gaze to meet his. He gave you a quizzical look, not really sure of what you were referring to “I do want all of you, Calum”

He smiled “You have me now”

“Yeah,,, but that’s not what I meant”

Taking a brave step, you pushed yourself forward and kissed him. You were done hiding the feelings you’ve been accumulating over the years, ready to let yourself go and drown on him. Only him.

Calum, however, was taken by surprise. Pulling himself from you.

“I thought we agree on not to catch feelings for each other” He said coldly. Already sitting up and looking across the room for his clothes.

You sat and watched as he got up from his spot on the couch and started to dress as fast as he could.

“Cal-“

“We agreed, Y/N. We said no string attached. Goddammit, everything was going so well, but you had to fuck it up, didn’t you?”

His words hit you like a ton of bricks. Shattering you completely from the inside. You tried to collect your thoughts as the tears threatened to come out, but Calum kept going.

“What the hell were you thinking? What were you expecting? Huh?”

“It’s not my fault that I love you” Your voice sounded broken, weak, and you hated that. How could he be so angry? What gave him the right when you were the one who was hurting?

“Well, it’s not mine either! Is it?” Calum said with exasperation, putting on his shirt.

“I thought-“

“What? That I loved you? Y/N, I don’t love anyone! You knew that when we started this!”

“And what am I to you then?!” You matched his tone of voice, tears were already spilling down your face but you didn’t care. You were fuming “What am I, Calum? A friend? A good fuck? Huh? Was I just a toy that you could play with every time you felt needy? Have you ever thought of me as something more?”

Calum’s stare was cold as ice. He was standing in the middle of the living room, clenching his fists to either side of his body until his knuckles became white. You, on the other hand, were sitting on the couch, crying. But your eyes burned with anger as you saw how carelessly he was invalidating your feelings, throwing everything away just because he couldn’t admit his own. A silent war was being fought between the two of you, both of you so scared but with nothing left to lose.

It seemed like ages had passed before Calum spoke again, grabbing his jacket and heading towards the door.

“Was there ever something more?”

You kept staring at the nothing he left behind, the last thing you heard was the slamming of your front door, leaving you alone and completely heartbroken.

Calum followed you into the kitchen, completely avoiding the living room where he last saw you, where he left you. He felt weirdly unwelcomed as you poured yourself a glass of water without even offering one to him, maybe he was.

You drink your water slowly, thinking that that will give you time to think on what to say to him. Maybe he would start talking soon, but the only thing he does is stare at you from the other side of the kitchen island. “How did you know where I was?” You asked.

“Your friend’s stories. You may have blocked me from yours, but they haven’t”

Then, silence came over you again. It was almost like he was waiting for you to say something, just like you always did. You played this game before, you are not going to cave. You are not going to give him the satisfaction of controlling the situation here.

“I need to talk to you” He finally said, letting his shoulders relax for a bit.

“You keep saying that. But you sure haven’t done a lot of talking”

The tension in the room was so thick that it could easily be cut by a knife. You always wondered what you would say to him, what would you feel the next time you saw him and, right now, you felt like there was nothing more to say. He had no right appearing into your life again, not when you were picking yourself together after he shattered you.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry”

“For what, exactly?” The venom in your voice was palpable, Calum knew this was not going to be easy for him “For leaving me here alone and then got yourself another person to play the ‘couple’ part? For practically calling me a whore? Or for giving me shit because of what I felt for you, knowing damn well you felt the same?”

You tilted your head, waiting for his answer, but it seems you left him speechless. Good.

Calum ran his hand through his curls, staring at the floor then back at you “I fucked up”

“That much is true”

“I’m serious, Y/N” He started walking towards you “I’m sorry for everything, you are right. You always are. I just- I didn’t know what to do! I panicked and-“

“And that’s your excuse of why you ran away instead of facing the problem?”

“I was scared! Okay? Is that what you wanted to hear?” Calum raised his voice. He was now standing a couple of feet in front of you, so close and yet so far away from you “Y/N, I was so fucking scared. You know that I’ve never had a committed relationship before, that I never let things get too far but with you.. God, I never felt the same with anyone like that before not after you. And then you said all of those things and I- Hearing you say that you love me was too much, I couldn’t process it and instead of saying something coherent I just lashed out on you and you didn’t deserve that. I’m sorry”

Calum took a step forward, softly grabbing your hand and intertwining his fingers with yours. He took your silence as his cue to continue.

“You were always there for me, every time I needed you were there. No questions asked, no judging, not waiting for something in return. Always making me laugh, supporting me and letting me take a break from the messy life I have. You were the best thing in my life and I took you for granted. I hate that it has taken me this long to realize that, but I just miss you, Y/N. I miss us, so much that you can’t imagine how much it hurts. I need you with me, please let’s just go back to where we started. Or we can start over, whatever you want! But, please, baby, please don’t leave me”

And just before you know it, Calum cupped your cheek with his free hand and brought your face closer to him, crashing his lips into yours. You responded almost immediately by parting your lips and granting him more access, getting completely lost inside the kiss.

For a moment it felt like the old times, he tastes just like you remember and his touch stills makes your skin erupt with goosebumps. For years you’ve been waiting for this, for him to feel the same about you and love you without any fears or doubts, claiming that he was yours and you were his. You wanted this for so long… but why does it feel so bad?

Gathering all the courage you could manage, you push Calum away from you.

“S-stop!” You said, trembling “Stop, this isn’t right”

He gave you a confused look as he took a step back “Y/N-“

“What about your partner? Calum, did you at least break up with them before you came to find me?” The way he looked at the floor gave you all the answers you needed. You raised your hand to your forehead, suppressing the urge to cry or laugh at his antics “Oh my God”

“I was going to! I swear I just-“ He failed to find an excuse “Things were doing awful between us lately, Y/N. You have to understand, I-“

“What?!” You spat “that you had to make sure I was on board with all of this?! I am not a consolation prize, Calum. I am not a second choice!”

“Baby, I know. I-“

“Don’t call me that!”

Calum took another step back, he has never seen you so angry before.

“How dare you? How. Dare. You, Calum. Coming here after eight months! saying all that shit about how much I mean to you when it’s just bullshit”

“Y/N, it’s not-“

“I’m not fucking finish” You say raising a hand to silence him “Could you tell me, where'd you get the nerve? I don’t get a single text or call or fucking smoke signal from you for eight months, knowing how I felt about you, and now suddenly you're asking for it back? Saying that you miss all that we had? We had nothing, Calum. We were nothing more than just a fuck around, you said it yourself, didn’t you? There was no ‘us’ for you to miss. You made damn sure of that. You don’t miss me, not really. You miss how I made you feel. How easy it was for me to be there for you every time you called, well, I’m tired of fixing all your problems, I ran out of every reason to do it.

And I was so stupid, you know? For believing just for a second that this could actually mean something when it never meant something to you in the first place! Did you even think about how I would feel about all of this? Of course not! Why would you? After all, I’m just Y/N! The one who always gets stepped on, why should my feelings matter? If I’m always going to be there for you and everything you ask for. Well, fuck that!”

“Y/N..” Calum tried to intervene, but you couldn’t hear him.

“You want to know what I did after you left? I cried myself to sleep for weeks, reliving every moment we had, every word you said just before you left. Waiting by the phone for hours just to see if you’d call. I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t eat, I was the living incarnation of death because I realized I lived just for you. Well, not anymore. You said you were hurting, you have no idea what I went through so, I’m sorry, but I don't really care how bad it hurts. I’m done. We are done”

You walk by him and towards the front door, opening it as an invitation for him to leave. Calum, however, remained standing in your kitchen, staring at you with glossy eyes.

“Baby, please don’t do this” He said with a trembling voice “I don’t know what to do without you I’m- I’m broken”

You were still standing by the door. Unmoving and without an inch of sympathy for the man crying in front of you.

“You broke me first, Calum. But I’m all glued back together now, and I did it by myself. Hope one day you could learn to do that too”

And, for the first time in months, you saw him leave.

[cooltrainererika]

Alt-talia Compilation: Bloody

Greetings, everyone. It seems Halloween has ended already... but the event isn’t over yet!

So this is another fic for hetaween; or rather, another compilation! This is for 10/27: Bloody. Now, I thought I could skip that day, because I thought it had to be about Halloween specifically.   But it turns out that wasn’t the case. So I’m going to release some here. I was thinking releasing a Hetalia Emblem fic for this prompt… but man there were so many ideas for this one. These aren’t the only ones, even. I’m just posting this now so that I can get it out while I can, with more to be added in reblogs. If I can, I’ll try to do the HE one though.

Since the first story ended up being way longer than expected, I decided to put it at the end, with the shortest fic, a scene I’ve had an idea for a long while that could be considered a companion piece to “Past The Finest Hour” in a way, at the beginning, kind of like animated shorts before an animated movie. There’s also a deleted scene that is actually an alternate version of the main feature, but I couldn’t follow up on it. I might post something using the same basic idea for “Nightmare”, though.

Also, once again, I must reiterate that Alt-talia is generally a more morally grey, dark AU. Also at least a few popular relationship dynamics in canon are absolutely shattered here, so keep that in mind. And the main story references a certain... infamous historical incident. It doesn’t feature it, it just references it, but I warned you. And these will all be referencing some kind of violent incident or time period in history. I just hope I gave them the respect they deserve. And since I can’t think of any era cues, I’ll just state upfront that said fic one takes place in the 60s, after the 1963 Élysée Treaty specifically; eventually, I’ve managed to narrow it down to not long after said treaty, probably 1963 - 1965. Also, I tried making the characters speak in an accent, but since they have border languages that are similar, they’re speaking that here instead. Also accents might cause Narm.

Note: I use a word that is often classified as a slur here. However, I feel that it’s appropriate to the era.

So, without further ado...

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(Also… people who read my fics, please reblog? I’ve spent so much time on them, I want more people to see them.)

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Keep Calm

The Battle of Britain had been raging for days; and Canada was growing worried.

The bombing had just begun and it was bad; quite bad. He had finished ushering another contingent of civilians into bunkers and tunnels, following the signs that now covered the city, hopefully safe from the fire and fury that rained upon what used to be their homes.

“Ah, Canada-“

And there his father was.

His head, a good part of of his face, and neck covered in blood.

Matthew just barely held back a scream.

“Father, your head is covered in blood, can you not see that?! Please take it easy!”

“Ah, this?” He was terribly serene, but that was punctuated with a cough.

“Terribly irritating, I must say-“ more hacking coughs “-Jerry, that nuisance. The blood is stinging my eyes-“

And with a painful-sounding cough, he coughed blood.

Canada’s face paled as it stained his uniform.

“GOOD GOD! ...Sorry at the outburst, but how can you call that ‘terribly irritating’?!”

The Blitz had indeed been affecting him; however, his face, as usual, was calm, as if he had a somewhat annoying cold.

More bombs fell, and again he coughed red, making Canada flinch.

He had never seen his father this hurt; the cliffs of Dover had protected him since the time of the Norman Conquest, and he probably hadn’t experienced this much damage, especially in his capital city, in that long a time.

But yet…

“A mere few square kilometers destroyed, is all…”

“MERE?!”

“We are nations, Canada. And can you not shout? I’m quite fine, thank you.”

He took off his scarf, compressing his wound. 

“I shall get back in the air in two hours now. You need to take flight soon too, lad. Chop-chop.”

Matthew, the personification of the Dominion of Canada, sighed loudly.  

“I’m not a ‘lad’ anymore father.”

His father chuckled.

“You are finally growing up, Canada.”

Even after all these centuries, his father’s ability to seemingly be unfettered by anything always never ceased to surprise him.

“I could use an ale now, however.”

“Father! Please!”

As he had been outside, guiding the citizens to their bunkers, many had been just like him.

Maybe, the best way to spite the enemy was this after all; to show that you wouldn’t be affected by their attempts, that no matter what, they would always remain as they always had been.

After all, his father hadn’t become the largest empire the world had ever seen for no reason.

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Unbreakable

Byelorussia bled.

With every Nazi her ragtag group of partisans killed, intentionally or not, her flesh tore and burned, and her mouth tasted of choking, suffocating liquid iron.

If she were human, she would have probably died from pain alone long ago.

She was able to cover most of them by now before the others noticed, and it helped that her old, worn uniform was becoming more and more loose-fitting as her emaciated body grew thinner by the day. But the others surely knew something was wrong.  Her headscarf had become torn from use as bandages, and she couldn’t afford to use much of their already limited resources.

Unbeknownst to them, some of that blood belonged to their families, friends, and neighbors.

She knew what they were trying to do. Many of the partisans urged her to take a rest, at the very least; but her usefulness to the group never faded, much to their confusion. But her nation status, unbeknownst to them, gave her the ability to make them easily dismiss strange idiosyncrasies of her existence.

However, she was only even able to walk by sheer force of will. They had started changing their tactics; less Nazis killed, in favor of other methods of sabotage, made the massacres less frequent. Her swamps and forests slowed them down already, and she gained great satisfaction in knowing the anguish and annoyance she caused Germany and his allies. Though occasionally she pitied the clearly inadequately equipped ones, sometimes barely better than they were; usually Italians. 

Germany’s leaders had apparently told him she was more harmless than her siblings, easily subjugated; a worthy slave. Judging by their obsession with furthering their “Aryan Race”, and being a rare female nation, she sometimes shivered at the implication of that; they already treated her as less than human when they caught her and sent her to work, though so far they hadn’t done anything of that sort to her... yet. The fact that they took infants they deemed “Aryan” enough was even stronger evidence to it. But by now, they surely knew she was more than merely Lithuania’s wife waiting for his return from battle at home, cooking and praying for him, even all those centuries ago. She did not know exactly why, but she had to survive. She would not die here.

She was a nation after all. Or at least, she believed she was. 

She couldn’t be sure about her future; by the time the war was over, it was almost guaranteed she would once again be taken into the Soviet Union, an easy picking, too weak to fight back, into the strangling clutches of Stalin. Even now, most of the partisan groups she had found herself in were Red Army detachments, and as much as she hated admitting it, without them she would be almost completely at the Reich’s mercy by now, constantly under his jackboot. Or worse.

However, that didn’t matter now. All that mattered was getting through today. And then, the war. And she was going to see the end of it, even if it meant dragging herself there.

She looked over their supply; due to lack of resources, Petrol Bombs - or Molotov Cocktails, as Finland, their inventor, spitefully called them - had proved to be a boon to them.

Soon, an important convoy would be passing through; that would be their chance to strike.

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Now, for the main feature...

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An Uneasy Forgiveness

Blood.

West Germany’s hands dripped with red.

His lungs felt like they were on fire from the hyperventilation, his heart raced, his vision blurred.

Now, he scrubbed his hands under the cold water, raising the intensity and rubbing the soap onto his hand again, the water glugging into the basin.

“Verdammt, verdammt, verdammt!”

Tears pricked his eyes as the man continued to try in vain to get the dreadful liquid off his hands.

Simple tears became sobs as he rubbed his hands raw.

On his hands was the blood of every Jew, every Pole, every Russian, Belarusian, Ukrainian, every Gypsy, every homosexual, every so-called “traitor”, everyone else he had determined as “less than human” he had destroyed the lives of.

“Verdammt, Verdammt, VERDAMMT!”

But yet, it wasn’t something he could wash away.

“Hé! What are you doing this early, I can hear you all the way from-“

Germany didn’t notice that the other occupant of this place had woken up and spotted him, until in the mirror, he saw him.

He froze, his red, puffy eyes meeting with the other nation’s.

France.

Germany’s eyes widened, unable to move, hyperventilating, shaking like a leaf, as he attempted to speak, but all that his throat produced were pathetic whines.

He felt his cold stare on him.

“What are you doing?”

“Frankreich... the blood, it won’t...”

His voice cracked, but he didn’t care.

But he didn’t notice the concern growing across France’s face, despite himself. He saw no blood; though he wouldn’t have been surprised if they indeed started bleeding from how frighteningly red and chapped they had become.

“It won’t...”

And he saw so much... vulnerability in the young man’s swollen eyes, his tear stained face, his disheveled hair, his youth making itself painfully apparent.

“Blood?! I don’t see any blood! What’s your deal, brat?”

“Frankreich... please...”

Germany felt the water shut off.

“Stop.”

“But...”

His normally deep voice sounded so meek and frail. Despite him being slightly taller than him, the younger man might as well have become a child again in front of him. No... if this were Germany as a child, he would have probably reveled in making the little hellspawn cry harder. At the time at least.

He avoided France’s gaze, afraid to even look him in the eye.

“I... I’m sorry for waking you. I...I’m s-sorry that you had to stay with me... I... I know you hate me... I know I can’t just sign away what I’ve done to you...”

Germany knew that France wasn’t here because he enjoyed his company. He had made a point and show out of demanding he get a separate bedroom. He knew full well that even within the ECSC, everyone only cooperated with him because they were even more tired of war more than they hated him. Belgium was the only one who reached out to him; he didn’t know why, after what he had done to her in both wars, but it was most likely just realpolitik. He knew, under her meek demeanor, she most likely still despised him. The rest, the Netherlands, Luxembourg, Italy, and yes, France, all of them, made no such gestures. He felt it every time they met; how Luxembourg “accidentally” blew smoke in his face, how the Netherlands spat at him as he spoke if he didn’t outright berate him, how Italy refused to look at him as he toiled on the assembly lines.

And how when they shook hands that fateful day, where they officially buried the hatchet, France’s arm seemed oh so rigid, his smile forced.

Of course they did.

After all, it was their blood on his hands too.

He crumpled to his knees, sobbing. His younger self would have probably been disgusted at how he looked now, on his knees at the feet of his former archenemy. But that didn’t matter anymore. His pride didn’t matter anymore.

France was speechless.

It was so very bizarre. Not only was this type of behavior almost unthinkable for a nation, especially for such a man as Germany, but not long ago, France would have been euphoric to witness the sight of his most hated rival pitifully crumpled on the ground in front of him, vulnerable, broken, pathetic. From the day this brat was born, he had resented him. Him and his emotionally stunted, cold-hearted, warmongering father both. His very birth had been possible because of him being humiliated, his capital starved and besieged. He would have probably kicked him in the gut and laughed, spat at him, or at least taunted him.

And to be sure, he still felt some of that.

But, like when he met him in Berlin after he surrendered, another emotion gnawed at him from inside.

Pity.

Then, sympathy.

This wasn’t the genocidal, wrathful, goose-stepping Germany who had proclaimed his people superior above all else. It was the starving, weak, scared Germany he, America, and England had delivered bread to in that Airlift over a decade ago.

He wasn’t his father. He wasn’t Prussia.

And he had come here for a reason. He might as well do what he came here for.

“Get up.”

Germany, still quivering, looked up at him.

France made his way to the door of the bathroom.

“I said, get up. I thought you were good at taking orders? Or are you trying to be an annoying brat?”

He might as well try. It wasn’t like he wasn’t guilty of anything anyway.

And after some hesitation, Germany followed.

——-

Germany laid on his bed, letting the soft pillows absorb his tears. He had calmed down somewhat, or at least to the point where he could speak coherently.

“Mind if I borrow your smokes and lighter?”

No reply.

“Then. I might as well.”

On the nightstand was a pack of HBs. They were no Gauloises, but they would have to do. 

He took out a cigarette as the younger nation began to speak again.

“I didn’t want to believe it at first. I think my mind repressed it. But... I can’t run from the truth anymore. I just don’t know what to do. What... what can even be done after something so terrible? That awful man manipulated me. But... ultimately, I fell for his words. I was naïve. We all were. Ultimately, it was our fault...”

France, his back leaning lazily against the bedframe, lit a cigarette. 

Germany squeezed the sheets in his fists.

“You hate me, don’t you?”

France took a puff; he grumbled a bit about the weak taste and aroma. A few moments passed as the smoke rose.

“Maybe.”

“...”

“But I signed that Friendship Treaty. We shook hands. We officially agreed that our past was behind us. I was sent here to spend a few days with you so we could learn to get along, and I agreed to it. I could’ve followed President De Gaulle’s orders - he’s a good man, that De Gaulle - but for once, I didn’t. I might as well try to start doing what I’m supposed to.”

Germany looked at him, his cornflower blue eyes still wet, but no longer leaking new tears. He was, once again, silent.

“...Besides.”

He took another puff, the smoke dissipating in the air.

The prisoner laid at his feet, cursing him out in his Arabic dialect on the floor of the dark, cold cell, bloody coughs staining his combat boots between pained shouts, hatred-soaked shouts that Allah would damn him to hell.

He clenched his eyes and rammed his boot into the colony’s stomach again. 

“...The truth is, I have to deal with you, no matter what. You’re my neighbor. And we’re nations. We stick together when it’s best for our interests, and we fight when it’s best for our interests. Pretty sure you know this well; your father knew this better than anyone else. And now, trying to be your ally is probably in my best interest, though not so sure about ‘friend’. But who knows. And we want it to stay that way. Might as well try not to fight it.”

He put the cigarette out, the cigarette making a quiet “pssshhh...” sound as it was pressed against the ashtray.

“I’ll try to forgive you. Can’t guarantee for the others though. Though I don’t think I’m the most important one you should be apologizing to for your latest fuck up. I wouldn’t be surprised if Israel and Poland never completely forgive you. Maybe not even in a thousand years. But know that... I’ll at least try to start over. We need to go about this together, whether I like it or not. Might as well try to help show you a different life than what daddy Preußen taught you.”

Germany’s voice hitched again. It was clear he hadn’t made his mind up about his father yet. Understandable. And France wasn’t one to talk about parenting either.

“Thank you... really...”

Now it was France’s turn to remain quiet, as he let the younger one speak.

“When I was little, I remember vater told me that my future and survival wouldn’t be decided by speeches and majority decisions, but by iron and blood. He was quoting Chancellor Bismarck, I believe. Hopefully... I won’t need that advice anymore, from now on.”

“I see, you’re pretty good at this too.”

France lit up another cigarette.

“But if you do anything silly again, remember I’m the one with the nuke.”

“Jawo... Ja.”

“Good. We could go for a smoke later. You probably need one. But I’ll be going back to bed-“

“Don’t leave. Please.”

The older man sighed.

“Fine, you damn brat.”

Their eyes met.

“...Are we friends?”

“...Hopefully. Now, stop acting like that. It’s jarring. You need rest.”

A pause.

“…But if you need a smoke now, I’ll light it for you.”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Deleted scene

The metallic, gruesome stench of blood surrounded Germany.

Nothing, nothing but darkness and blood. He gasped for air, his feet kicking in the thick, vile liquid searching for a floor that wasn’t there.

Eventually, the blood became hotter and hotter, first merely a singing heat, then searing, blistering, until the unbearable, tortuous heat pierced its way to his bones, boiling his flesh, only his struggles to keep his head above the surface keeping him from screaming in agony.

“Hilfe! Hilfe!”

He managed to choke out, before the scalding liquid spilled into his lungs.

Finally, with that, he sunk.

Deeper and deeper, he sank, the agonizing pain never stopping.

As he sank, he thought he saw many shadows, of all sexes, ages, and sizes, staring at him solemnly, quietly.

Among them, he thought he saw the rest of the ECSC, Russia and Poland, watching his descent with what must have been contempt.

It was then everything became cold as death.

————-

 (Explanation: the deleted scene was a reference to Dante’s Inferno; according to Dante, in the 7th circle of Hell is the realm of the violent, where souls are immersed in a boiling river of blood. However, it was maybe a bit odd I was using an Italian story for Germany)

Characterization notes: England is the epitome of Stiff Upper Lip in at least this time period in Alt-Talia; he isn’t quite a tsundere, to say the least. He’d be classified more as a kuudere perhaps, but not quite due to the whole British politeness thing.

Belarus is a big one; as readers who’ve read my other fic know, I write Belarus quite different than from canon. She’s probably one of the most human-like, in that her wish is to live a peaceful existence, not power or prestige, and unlike in canon she comes off more as a victim of circumstance than an instigator. While other nations would be motivated by a lot of nationalism, here she just wants to survive first and foremost. She’s generally quiet, even well-mannered, and excluding the Jews and Roma was hurt the most in WWII in terms of proportion of population; estimates of Belarusian deaths go as high as a quarter of the population, and including deportations and displacement the number can go as high as half (!). I like writing her because she just comes across as a woman with a tough life who just gets the crap beaten out of her for no fault of her own except geography. But when driven into a corner even she will be willing to bite back, if just for her people. 

[tuaparadis]

Mark me Dead (Day 7: Needles)

The Umbrella Academy Inktober 2019. 

 — Summary:  Diego and Klaus don’t have a lot in common, especially when it comes to needles. One can’t live with them, the other can’t live without them. But at the end of the day, are they really that different?

— Disclaimer: Needles. 

— Other: Reblogs appreciated <3 Read this on AO3

___

Diego was fearless, at least for the most part. But his fear of needles wasn’t random.

The memory never left his head every time he had to look at one. It was so overwhelming for him that he would pass out if he stared for too long. 

He never wanted to be near one again, because he’d just be reminded of that day. The day he got his tattoo. 

He hated it. 

Every time he looked at his wrist, he would travel back in time, to his 13-year-old self sitting on that chair, a random man with a tattoo gun piercing his skin.

Anything that had to do with needles terrified Diego. It didn’t matter if it was on him, it could be on anyone and he’d still pass out cold. 

So yeah, he got upset when he found Klaus with a new trail of bruises, clearly from injections, on his right arm.

And it wasn’t the first time this happened either.

___

They wouldn’t shut up.

No matter what Klaus did to distract himself, the ghosts just wouldn’t shut up. Rehab hadn’t been easy. 

He knew any other drug addict would say the same thing as him, that he couldn’t go on without his next fix yada yada yada, but his case was different. He couldn’t go on because being clean meant staying clean, staying clean meant… Well, more and more dead people.

It wasn’t fun. 

Being high was fun, it was relaxing, but this? This wasn’t fun at all.

He ran to his dealer so fucking fast when he got out. At that point, he was desperate for anything. He didn’t care. And he didn’t care what he had to do to get high either. It didn’t matter to him.

He just wanted them to shut up. 

He sat in a street corner, a needle in his one hand, the sleeve of his other arm pulled up. If it wasn’t an emergency, he’d usually check if the needle was even clean, but this time he didn’t bother.

Hoping it was, he injected himself despite Ben yelling at him not to.

___

Diego examined his arm, having the urge to throw up but the back of his throat was too dry to let that happen. “Jesus Christ, Klaus-”

He got up from the bed where they were sitting, to get him anything that would prevent the wounds from getting infected if they hadn’t already. 

But also to just stop staring before he passed out in front of his brother. 

“What? Not a fan of my work?” Klaus replied, and even though Diego was not looking, he could tell he was smiling. Of course he was smiling. When did Klaus ever take anything seriously?

“I’m not joking, Klaus. This is serious, not to mention disgusting.” He murmured the last part, walking back to his bed, betadine and cotton in hand. “Give me your arm.” He spoke up again as he sat down.

A wider smirk spread on Klaus’s face. “Why should I? You just called it disgusting.” 

Diego really tried not to snap at him right then and there. How many times had Klaus come running to him for help this year? For a place to sleep again?

“I swear to god if you don’t give me your arm I’ll rip it off your shoulder and shove it up your ass.” 

Klaus gave him his arm.

Diego poured some of the betadine on the cotton, and placed it on one of the bruises. Klaus should have been the one to hiss, not him. But it was hard to do this because he was trying not to look.

He really hated that Klaus did this to himself daily. No matter how much he scolded him every time he came over his sorry excuse of an apartment, —it was a goddamn boiler room, christ— he felt bad for him. 

Klaus never really told him how bad the ghosts could get, but if slowly killing himself was the only way to find peace, it was worse than what Diego had originally thought. 

“You got skinnier. Have you been eating?” He continued to take care of Klaus’s arm but distracted himself by breaking the silence. Not his strong suit, it was gonna have to do for now, though.

“I’ve been eating a lot of things, Diego dear.” He had expected a reply like that, but it still pissed him off. He forgot how much of a handful his brother really was.

After very sloppily cleaning the rest of the bruises, Diego put the supplies back in their place. Now it was time to put Klaus in his.

He leaned against the wall, crossing his arms and looking at him dead in the eyes. “What are you doing here?” He asked, catching Klaus off-guard.

“Huh?”

“Why are y-you here?” He asked again, paraphrasing, but not changing the tone of his voice. Great. He stuttered. This couldn’t get better.

He was going to completely lose it if another joke was made. He knew Klaus didn’t like being threatened, so he used that against him. 

“Uhm…” He watched as Klaus paused to find the right words. “I was hoping I could stay the night?” 

Diego didn’t reply to that. He continued to glare at his brother who was opening and closing his mouth, trying to add onto what he said but was failing to do so. 

Something finally came out of him, but he was more silent than before. “But if you don’t want me to, I can go.” He was desperate, both of them knew it. But neither of them said anything for a good couple of seconds.

Klaus nodded to himself, a sad smile decorating his roughed up face. He pulled his sleeve down and got up.

Diego kept watching as Klaus walked the small set of stairs that led to the exit of the boiler room.

That’s when he realized Klaus wasn’t the weak one in the room, but rather, it was him. He kept acting like he didn’t care where Klaus would go next or what trouble he would get into, the way Klaus didn’t care about the consequences of his actions, but in reality, he cared a lot. He always had.

Klaus always made an unnecessary amount of jokes to cover up how he really felt. It was the exact same thing Diego did by acting like the tough one, the invincible one.

Maybe they weren’t so different after all.

Ironically, it was like someone was poking his heart with a needle. Was that what Klaus trying to achieve by walking so miserably? 

‘For fuck’s sake.’

He followed after him and stopped him by grabbing the fur of his coat. Good quality, he probably stole the thing. “Wait.”

Klaus turned around, making eye contact with Diego immediately. 

Diego breathed through his nose, closing his eyes and looking back at Klaus. He was really going to regret saying this, wasn’t he? Biting his lip, not wanting to mess up his words by stuttering again, he opened his mouth to speak up.

“You can stay. Just this time.”

It was gonna be a long night. 

[chimcharstar]

ALL THE COLOURS

HERE WE GO BOYS

zinc white; how are you really feeling today? no one-word answers please!

I’m feeling tired because I’m supposed to be in bed. But happy because I did the work and I can get away with sleeping in and things are just chill right now. I have devised a way of sneaking waste food at work. If you put it in these little metal containers and hide them under the fridge, nobody notices them and throws them away. This eve I dined on garlic bread and prawns.

cadmium yellow; when you think of the word “happy” what’s the first thing that comes to mind?

Walking with coffee and tunes. I’m trying to appreciate things in my life I will feel nostalgic about later in the moment, so I don’t regret anything. This is one of those things. Although I might not have the tunes part for long because I fucking broke my headphones and they may or may not start playing my music out loud for all the world to hear. I hope people like disco!

lemon; what’s your comfort food?

Food from my old workplace. I have trouble finishing food usually but not this stuff. I will probably scream while eating it. You know this and you love me

hansa yellow; what’s your guilty pleasure song?

“I Will Survive”. People were singing it in the Office and I guess it’s so famous and ironic and cringey now or something. But then I remember that one fucker

yellow ochre; name an artist/band whom you just discovered & can’t get enough of!

Herbie Hancock. I don’t know if I’ll listen to every single thing from him but I was just listening to some funk as you do and his like solos? I was vibing. We were having brain to brain communication. It was an experience. It was so so good. It was good fucking music. Listen to this shit. Herbie Hancock - I Thought It Was You This stuff makes me want to wiggle on public transit. 

naples yellow; where do you feel most at home?

Bonsais and my quiet neat fucking room. Or not giving a fuck in other people’s mess.

raw sienna; with whom do you feel most at home?

YOU HO

golden ochre; describe the relationship you have with your closest friend.

We reblog asks and send each other all the asks. ADHD disaster energy finding balance. The worst posts I’ve ever seen followed by revenge. Two gay best friends who are best friends. No seriously I am so grateful for your unconditional love and your warmth

golden deep; what’s your favorite season?

Autumn. When the leaves were falling and the sun was shining all bittersweetly I was running around taking so many pictures because there’s like this golden time and then it’s gone.

cadmium orange; what do you like to do on your days off?

I like to buy too many plants and pretty rocks that are just vibing. I just like to wander around with coffee without a schedule. Listening to funk and disco. Seriously I’m the coolest person ever

orange lake; do you have anyone you can turn to when you’re sad?

U HO. And some online mutuals of course :) I feel like I don’t turn to people when it’s real sad hours though. I just give my ocs more PTSD.

titans; do you prefer slow mornings or relaxing evenings?

Relaxed evenings. Fuck mornings. All my mornings are slow buddy. 

shakhnazaryan red; are you currently binge-watching anything?

No, because I had to go and cancel my Netflix as all my favourite things got more episodes. 

red ochre; are you more right-brained (creative) or left-brained (analytical)?

Oh right brained bitch.

burnt sienna; is there a painting that brings you peace when you look at it?

No, paintings are stressful. It’s always like “Holy shit, that must have been so much work! I don’t enjoy painting myself! This person is better at painting than me!” I have much love in the heart for Van Gogh.

english red; what animal do you relate to most?

I know what you’re trying to do and it’s not going to work. I could say a cat, because I want to lie down in a patch of sun, knock things over, and complain loudly. I would say a dog because I think people are way better than they really are, am tenaciously loyal to them, and get excited about going for a walk.

vermilion; what’s your favorite accent?

Whatever this one hot guy at work has.

cadmium red; do you have a “type” when it comes to a significant other?

FOR FUCKS SAKE okay I’m going to google what my type is

You got: Mr./ Mrs Perfect

You like someone that truly has is all. You need someone who is well rounded in all aspects of life. When it comes to looks and personality, only perfection receives your affection.

Wow, what does that mean at all

scarlet; describe your current crush/es.

Ok, one of them gave me cheesecake, one of them offered me pizza, another one is the guy whose Facebook you stalked for me and we still couldn’t find his birthday but I laugh about one adorable photo still (the car one), and one of them I spent half an hour trying to find where I put the birth chart of and we’re actually really compatible. I’m sorry, if you want more information I’ll have to ramble about it in your messages.

ruby; what does your ideal first date look like?

OH I JUST WANT TO WALK DOWN A STREET HOLDING HANDS AND GO TO A RESTAURANT WEVE NEVER BEEN TO BEFORE AND TRY SOME FOOD AND LAUGH A LOT, AND THEN MAYBE GO ENJOY THE VIEW OF THE OCEAN AT NIGHT. IS THAT TOO MUCH TO ASK? IS IT?

carmine; what does your ideal second date look like?

I don’t know, fuck it let’s go to the aquarium!

madder lake red; would you ever kiss someone (or accept a kiss) on a first date?

I dunno man. I feel like I wouldn’t if it wasn’t socially acceptable but I’m also wild and crazy.

rose; what’s something really positive going on in your life right now?

I REALLY ACTUALLY LIKE MY WORKPLACE. And my living situation is pretty okay. It’s not great I guess but I’ve been coming a long way.

quinacridone rose; what’s something you’re really looking forward to?

Literally what are these colours. Okay, I’m looking forward to putting wires around crystals to make them into jewellery. Then, I want to give the jewellery to my friends. 

violet rose; what does your dream house look like?

An old as fuck, old fashioned as fuck haunted-looking mansion I can give some love.

violet; is there any place in particular you’d like to settle down?

I need the outdoors bro. I need those trees. I gotta live in the countryside again someday.

blue lake; what would you like to do/accomplish before you settle down?

Write some books! Run rampant in the city…

cobalt blue spectral; what is the most beautiful place you have ever been to?

I think it would have to be the hills where I grew up. It was bursting with biodiversity, there was a rustic sheep farm, everyone shut the fuck up, there would be frogs, the smell of the fresh air in any season, some days would just be heart-stoppingly beautiful and I ache for it sometimes. Birdsong? I heard some birdsong today and I wanted to cry. I remember our hedges would be deafening with the birds in it.

ultramarine; when was the last time you were in a good mood? do you know/remember what sparked it?

Today, it finding something I maybe could sit around and read and then finding it in me to actually get out of bed lol.

blue; what’s the most recent dream you remember?

The one I just had. A lot of it is blurry, which is frustrating because I got some strong almost-memories of it throughout the day, but it sticks out to me because I was bawling my eyes out a lot in the dream, and I also hurt myself the way I used to and I had to check that I hadn’t done it in my sleep. But I think it was a very expressive dream and those are my natural emotions.

bright blue; what does your dream family look like? any kids or pets? 

I like the idea of a husband and some dogs, cats and chickens. Kids maybe.

how many of each?

A lot of chickens, but not too many please.

blue cobalt; do you like your name? would you give yourself a different name if you could?

I do like my name, and I did give myself a different name. Even if I knew how annoying everyone would be about pop culture Gordons, and I did. I still would choose this name.

prussian azure; what’s your favorite scent?

I’m running out of things to say as my favourite scent. OK, Nomad from Old Spice. I don’t know why, I think it must suit me or something. Maybe it’s the citrus… stuff going on there.

azure blue; what’s your favorite type of tea, if any?

Red Rose, my mom made it for me as a kid and she drank it all the time while teaching me piano or reading books.

turquoise blue; if you could start a garden, what would you plant?

Flowers, to show off to everyone, and then I don’t know, maybe some fucking pumpkins and easy things like corn and peas.

cerulean blue; if you were guaranteed to have a viewership, would you start a youtube vlog?

I think I’d be happier to have one if I knew no one was watching my antics LMAO

glauconite; describe your body without using any negative adjectives.

Best of both worlds

yellow green; picture yourself walking in a field. what do you see & hear in this scenario?

I’m still thinking of where I grew up. I see the sun through the branches of very old maple trees, and hear the wind in the long grass.

green light; are you in a comfortable place in life? if not, what do you think might make it better?

Yes, but I could make it better by moving in with cleaner roommates and getting a cat. And maybe work at something I’m actually interested in, or go to school or something.

green; name three countries you want to visit; do you have any actual plans in place to visit any of them?

I don’t have plans, but I’d like to visit Mexico, France, or Japan.

emerald green; do you speak any languages besides english? are there any additional languages you want to learn?

Kinda French. I want to learn Spanish… now Portuguese because everyone at work speaks it… literally, any very popular language. I want to learn so many languages

oxide of chromium; what’s your favorite book?

BRO WHAT IS A BOOK

olive green; are you currently reading anything? how do you like it so far?

Yeah, I’m reading a personal account of a Satanic cult. I had to stop reading it because I wasn’t ready for the graphic details.

mars brown; what’s a movie that always puts a smile on your face/makes you laugh?

Megamind/Thor Ragnarok

burnt umber; what’s something you plan to do before the day is over to take care of yourself?

Wow I feel really called out right now. I was going to eat some chicken because I’m hungry. Because that’s what I should be doing at 3AM.

umber; have you drank enough water today?

Yes, but probably not. I’ve been trying really hard today though.

voronezhskaya black; what or who is your go-to outlet for when you need to vent?

Probably you again, welcome to the salt mines!

sepia; name five things that always make you happy.

Buying a plant, rolling around on my fuzzy blanket, videos of cats being idiots, little unexpected thoughtful gifts, people sharing food.

indigo; what’s the best/sweetest compliment you have ever received?

A Treasured Mutual once spontaneously said I was a really good person because I was chill and they felt free to be themselves, to be vague.

payne’s gray; describe your aesthetic?

Looking around my room, it would seem to be whatever those studying people organizing notes with the window open on a sunny day have. I don’t know if this is me, but my room looks… vaguely feminine and organized in that way.

black; post a selfie because you are so beautiful!

I’m in my PYJAMA CLOTHES. I only want to take a selfie with GOOD NATURAL LIGHTING and the DAYTIME DARK CIRCLES around my eyes not the NIGHTTIME DARK CIRCLES. Maybe I have one hanging around