#when they are so similar the self loathing turns into tearing each other down

[heronmare]

thinking about that one tumblr post that was like “the person i can hurt the best is the one i want to keep the safest, my brother, who will never be over seven years old to me, i know how to hurt him so terribly, make him remember forever,” and how it is so very hunter and crosshair coded

[seramilla]

(Hehehehehe two little critters were in the mood for angst…but feel free to turn it into something wholesome)

For the Emily Stays in Hell au

How did Emily react to her sister’s new visage, clearly she would be shocked because they last time they saw each other was at the meeting that was merely a facade. The very meeting where she thought Sera had undermined and humiliated her, thinking she was part of the set up. Yet to see Sera in hell, Fallen, is a shock to her. Her sister, the high seraph, the paragon of heavenly appearance and attitude, now lying before her…battered, bloodied, and broken…why now?

“Sera, is that really you? Wh–what happened??”

And how does Sera react to seeing Emily looking at her?

Her big sister laying in bed…injured, weak, and pathetic. She can’t let Emily see her like this, she is too ashamed of herself for so many things…for giving her reasons to believe she would trick her, for not standing up for her sooner, and for not being able to sway the elders minds. She is a sham of a sister and cocoons herself in her new bat-like wings. Her sister should not have to look at her as she deserves better than the monstrous beast she’s become…

No…

This is what she has always been, she just no longer has excuses and “divine rules” to hide behind anymore. She can’t look at her sister, her perfect little sister. Sera curls in on herself filled with self loathing and disgust. The overwhelming urge to vomit burns in the back of her throat but there’s nothing to expel. She wishes she could just disappear so Emily wouldn’t have to see her like this, to see her at ALL. She can only mumble an apology to Emily over and over again balled up and hidden in her cocoon of wings as black tears stream down her face. This is what she deserves…to suffer alone without anyone seeing.

Since I'm answering this one after @xellas-the-wanderer and @tanema have already made their art contributions, this entry has a fun little twist. Have some wholesome angst!

Carmilla doesn't let Emily see her sister for days. Charlie had brought Emily straight back to the Hazbin Hotel after she'd fallen, where she'd recovered for several days, getting used to her new body, learning to stand and walk again on her own two sets of deer-like hooves, and acclimating to the strange way in which her new eyes perceive the world. It took her 3 days to get back on her feet. A week to subdue the new demonic features that her body now possesses. At least 2 weeks to start to hide her new wings, and retract her horns into her head, so that her upper half has a more or less human-like appearance. When she's not angry or overcome with emotion, anyway.

The hooves are a different story. Her eyes will never be the same again -- a deep, sunken black in appearance, allowing her to see many more finer details than she ever could as an angel. She can see a fleck of dust drifting by like it's nothing. Notices insects and small creepy crawlies with almost predatory precision. Has to fight her baser instincts against the thrill of the hunt.

Emily doesn't want to hurt or kill anything. Not really. But the urge to chase and observe things up close is overwhelming. Her rounded ears twitch at every little sound; her tufted tail swishing back and forth haphazardly, when she's laser focused on something interesting. Vaggie had given her an awfully strange look, as she crawled along the floor after a cockroach with Niffty. She and the hotel maid have found a common interest in bugs recently. That is... something she'll have to get used to, she supposes. Demon features are so random and weird.

Sera had fallen not long after Emily did. But Carmilla had taken the Seraphim straight to her compound, and hadn't told her for days! Carmilla found Sera in a fashion similar to the way Charlie had found her -- transformed and changed beyond recognition. Except, Sera's body had already made impact with the ground. She hadn't faired nearly as well as Emily in the descent. Hadn't had the benefit of the princess of Hell to help break her fall.

Sera is hurt...badly. Carmilla admits she regrets not telling her sooner, but she hadn't wanted to worry Emily. Especially since Emily is still so angry with her sister, for seemingly letting her fall into the pit on her own, despite all of Emily's and Charlie's best efforts to convince the elders that redemption is possible.

Despite these complicated circumstances...and despite the sense of betrayal and abandonment that she feels, Emily is still curious, even so. How had Sera fallen? Was she pushed like Emily had been? Did Heaven kick her out? That would make the most sense. She'd been conspiring with a traitor, which Emily is considered now, after all. She wouldn't be surprised if they'd abandoned her too, regardless of her current loyalties.

What's worse, Carmilla won't let Emily see Sera for days. Explains that her sister is in a very bad way. She needs time to heal, and process, and fears that Emily's presence would only make things worse for her. It's agonizing, knowing Sera is down here with her, but unable to see it with her own eyes. Unable to get answers. Emily's patience is tested like never before. She almost breaks into the Carmine estate herself, but eventually, Carmilla lets her in. Emily almost wishes that she hadn't, after she sees the sight waiting for her there.

Carmilla had just given Sera her bed. It's been difficult enough getting Sera to break out of the shock of her falling, so Carmilla's familiar presence beside her at night is undoubtedly some comfort. When Emily enters Carmilla's room, she almost thinks there is an animal lying on its side on Carmilla's bed. The sight of golden fur, leathery wings, and feathers of various shades poke out among a plethora of bloody bandages. More than half of the body in front of her is covered with them. When Emily comes around to face the creature, a familiar but distorted face is visible beneath a pair of massive, twisted horns.

Regardless of the curious visage, the person before her is undoubtedly her sister. Her breathing is ragged, and her three sets of mismatched wings quake behind her as she breathes rapidly in fits and starts. She's asleep, though it's not a restful affair. Emily almost turns around and leaves, too stunned to process the sight in front of her, and also not wanting to wake Sera out of any much-needed rest.

She's not fast enough, though. As if sensing her presence, Sera breathes deeply several times, and then opens her eyes. It takes a minute for those cat-like slivers in her orbs to adjust to the sight of Emily standing there. They become more circular and expand in the low light of the room as realization strikes. Sera blinks several times, and then jerks into a half-sitting position on the bed. Emily's presence has startled her, and Emily might have apologized and adopted a swift exit if Sera's eyes hadn't pierced directly into her, and her name hadn't escaped past those menacing, pointed fangs in her mouth.

It's Sera, all right. That pained, anguished sound emerging from her parched throat is proof enough of that.

"Emily! What--is that you--? No...no, please! You shouldn't be here! Oh god, please don't look at me like this!"

Sera turns over swiftly in the bed, facing away from Emily, her wings encasing her form in a protective barrier, arms and claws coming over her head to hide her face. The former Seraphim also tucks a scaled, scorpion-like tail close to her body, trying to hide that part of herself, too. The only pieces of her left visible are her pawed feet and those sharped, twisted horns, which almost seem to curve back in on each other. A steady stream of "No, no, please, no, I'm so sorry" leaks out of Sera's mouth as a full-blown panic attack takes over. She's trembling. She's frightened.

At that moment, an overwhelming sense of regret and guilt overtakes the younger Seraphim, and all previous notions of betrayal and humiliation at her sister's hand are pushed out of Emily's mind. Sera is hurt. She's in pain, ashamed and unyielding in her desire to hide herself from her sister. Emily's never seen Sera in such a state before. She's still confused...angry...but she also wants to comfort her, too. Sera has always done the same for her, when she was feeling small and afraid. Emily moves closer, to sit beside her older sister on the bed. She places her clawed hand on the back of a smooth, leathery wing, which jumps beneath her touch.

"Emily, please don't look at me like this," Sera barely manages to utter between harsh spurts of breath. She wraps her wings and tail even more tightly around her body, if that's possible. "I'm sorry! Please! I'm hideous! You can't see me like this! I don't want you to see!"

Oh, Sera, Emily thinks, finally coming to terms with the fact that something horrible has happened to her brave elder sister. Something that has irrevocably shattered her spirit.

The person in front of her is a broken, wretched shell of a person, unable to show her face even to the one she's always trusted most in the world. Emily crawls onto the bed, those annoying new instincts of hers completely clouding her angelic judgement that what her sister usually says, goes without question. She ignores that notion completely. The mattress shifts beneath her, and she practically unravels Sera's wings from around her body, peeling them away from her flesh like the skin off a piece of fruit.

Sera fights her. But Emily uses newfound strength she hadn't realized she could wield until now. She just needs Sera to look at her. To see her face. To understand that, despite her ability to hide it better, they are both one and the same now. Smaller horns sprout from Emily's forehead. The pupils in her eyes completely disappear, leaving a sea of black sclera. Emily's violet and gold wings unfurl from her back, as smoothly as water, and she uses them similarly to Sera's, encasing both of them in a protective barrier all her own. Helping her sister hide, for what it's worth.

She leans down to give Sera a half-hug from behind, letting her sister feel her new feathers against her flesh, along with her sister's comforting embrace. She hopes that much, at least, is still familiar to her.

"Sera. Hey. Look at me. Sera, look at me!"

"No!" Sera tries to twist away. But in her weakened state, it doesn't take much for Emily to hold her fast against the front of her body. Sera accidentally rasps a clawed hand against Emily's exposed arm, trying to reach around and dislodge her, drawing golden blood. But Emily ignores it. She doesn't even feel it.

"No, Emily...I can't! I won't!"

"Yes, you can. You can do it. Look at me."

"Why?! Why must you torment me so?"

"Because I need you to see me!"

Sera sobs, finally giving up the fight. She buries her face into the pillow beneath her head, tears soaking into the soft fabric. She cries out, pleading, "Aren't you ashamed of me?!"

God, Sera really knows just how to rip Emily's heart open without even trying. Emily feels her sister's broken cries as her body shakes beside her, wracked with despair. There is a pulling at some tender, sensitive place inside Emily's chest, that she'd almost been able to ignore, overcome with her own rage for the last several days.

But not now. Not anymore. Why was she even so angry before? What exactly had been so important about stewing in her own self-righteous anger? It's not like there is any coming back from this, now.

Having enough of this failed negotiation, Emily decides to just crawl over her sister's prone body, until she's lying next to her, facing her on the bed, and Emily can grab the High Seraphim's cheeks between her small claws, and do the uncomfortable task of making Sera actually look at her, finally. Really make her see her for what she is now.

Sera tries to forcefully keep her eyes closed, fangs trembling against her lower lip as fresh tears fall from under soft lashes. But Emily refuses to let her conceal herself anymore.

"Look at me right now. I've been down her longer than you. Don't think I can't make you."

That seems to be enough of an incentive for Sera, who finally, finally, lets her eyes slowly blink themselves open. Emily can finally witness Sera's pained expression for the first time, without the fruitless hiding, and the moment that the realization of Emily's similar predicament finally hits, Sera starts looking at her with something resembling surprise, and pity, as well.

Sera is suddenly no longer feeling sorry for herself. Seeing Emily's eyes, and ears, and horns...and her wings, which are still trying to wrap around them both. Sera is finally looking at her. Taking her in. In all her twisted, angelic-animal-demon glory. Sera grabs her face, now. Tentatively feeling along the edge of Emily's small horns. Rubbing Emily's cheeks and forehead, getting a good impression of her with her clawed hands, as her little sister's rounded ears and night-black eyes focus all their attention on her.

Emily smiles. It's a pained attempt, but it's the best she can muster under the circumstances.

"See?" Emily asks quietly, barely above a whisper, since her face is so close to Sera's. "We're the same now. You don't have to hide from me. Ever."

The dam breaks. All of Sera's pent-up frustration and sadness is let loose as the High Seraphim wails. She pulls Emily tighter against her body, drawing her sister into a rough, close approximation of a hug. As best as they both can manage, with the new and confusing features of their bodies in the way. But neither of them care. Emily lets Sera hold her, and holds her sister tightly in return, basking in each other's presence.

To say that relief washes over them both would be an understatement. All Emily remembers for the rest of the night is Sera holding her close, until both of them finally fall asleep encased in the familiarity of each other's arms. Together, in one piece, and finally whole again. With or without Heaven, Emily vows to never question or second guess her sister's love for her again. There is no going back now, anyway.

Fuck Heaven. Fuck the elders. They will be perfectly fine on their own.

[fireandspiceland]

Summing up some spicy cardverse thoughts from a conversation with Art @coralcatsea and ArtTea @artea-artie because they are too lovely to keep them hidden <3

♠️💚♠️💙♠️💚♠️💙♠️💚♠️💙♠️💚♠️💙♠️

Cardverse au where Queen Arthur is a powerful mage, but what no one (not even the Queen) knows is that Alfred has 1 (one) magical ability and it is reading the thoughts people have about him which contain strong emotions. Arthur’s mind never shuts up, and while Alfred does get quite a kick out of knowing this Queen is thinking and fantasising about him almost 24/7, he sometimes finds himself in rather.. impractical situations. 🤭

As ArTea suggested it's particularly fun to consider this in an enemies to lovers setting, where they loathe each other at first - the royal born prince who became king and the queen who stems from peasantry and has yet to make peace with his new role? - but slowly Arthur's feelings towards Alfred turn from fantasies about violently breaking their divinely chosen bond to... still violent fantasies, but now he is sexually torturing Alfred in his mind. Those once malicious thoughts that craved nothing but the worst for the other, turning into not-so-innocent fantasies of a tear-stained Alfred calling out Arthur's name.

Alfred wonders why he hasn’t been hearing any malicious thoughts from Arthur in a long while (which would be at a time they where they finally start to get along) just for him to suddenly get hit with this- What does he do with that information? It's the first time he encountered such a malicious thought about him. 😆

Queen Arthur and King Alfred sitting next to each other at some official event in the throne room, suddenly there’s thoughts of him being made to undress and kneel before his Queen with tears of shame streaming down his face, broadcasted directly into Alfred’s mind. Needless to say, he’s unable to leave the event so he’s forced to sit there and act like he’s not feeling like melting into a puddle. Through the event Alfred is unbelievably fidgety, enough that it even gains Arthur’s attention - who of couse asks Alfred about his strange behavious. He tries to brush it off, but does it in a manner Arthur finds adorable - blushing and stuttering - which only worsens the fantasy as it inspires the imagination within Arthur. 🔥

Arthur sits up a little straighter and with his legs slightly spread while thinking about Alfred sucking him off there on the throne. Meanwhile Alfred is slouching in his seat, hoping to disappear while he keeps biting and licking his lips and glancing at Arthur’s groin. Arthur catches of course and thinks Alfred is having similar thoughts, but he doesn’t know Alfred knows what he’s fantasising about and it all just continues to get worse.

As Art put it so well: The cycle just continues. Self-fulfilling prophecy. And then Arthur catches him later and tries to call Alfred out for his behaviour (bonus kabedon possible) and Alfred is like, "But YOU-!" but he can't finish that, because it's supposed to be a secret that he heard and saw Arthur's fantasies before his own inner eye.

And sometimes when Arthur is around Alfred, he notices him getting hard for "no reason" and assumes Alfred just really likes and has a lot of dirty thoughts about HIM. When really it's ARTHUR'S dirty thoughts that keep causing it. ❤️

[snek-of-eden]

AU idea for a Nathalie adopting Adrien fic, because you cannot tell me that badass woman would not do everything in her power to allow Adrien to have a fraction of the childhood he deserves. so here:

Nathalie and Adrian have always been close. She doesn’t flaunt it, and their relationship is nothing if not talked about, but when Adrien is having a hard time Nathalie is the first person to sit him down and talk to him about it while he unpacks his school bag. When he’s sick and stuck in bed with a cold, Gabriel orders Nathalie to simply leave him with medication, but she takes the time to get him blankets and easily digestible food and sits with him, stroking his forehead. They don’t talk about what they are to each other, but as Gabriel pulls away, Nathalie finds herself subconsciously replacing him as a parental figure for Adrien.

He reminds her of Emelie, and it hurts her chest to see the similarities in the way his eyes glow under sunlight, how he laughs when he’s embarrassed. The curve of his cheeks reminds her of the way she used to admire Emelie’s, heart in her throat. Late at night she finds herself scrolling through old pictures, wishing for the past.

One such night, Adrien knocks on her door. She wipes her face free of tears and invites him in to sit on the bed. He settles himself on the floor instead, a haunted look in his eyes, and tells her he’s had a repeating dream about something bad happening, of Nathalie’s demise, of his father chasing him. It almost chokes him to admit, but he does it anyway, like the sweet, innocent boy he is. Nathalie takes his hand in hers, running her thumb over traces of rubbed-off nail polish on his fingernails. She tells him they’ll be alright, and he rests his head on her lap before going back to his bedroom, a small, tired smile adorning his face.

Nathalie continues to look out for Adrien, perhaps even more so now that she knows he’s struggling. Sometimes when she can’t sleep, she’ll rest her hot forehead against the cold surface of his doorframe, and it rests her nerves to hear his even breathing.

A news broadcast surfaces, alerting Paris to the fact that, due to Hawkmoth, for a period of time, Ladybug and Chat Noir will no longer be able to superficially heal from injuries they sustain in their superhero forms. A pang of dirty guilt strikes Nathalie; for a while now, things have been getting too serious - Gabriel’s actions are beginning to have real consequences and he’s only getting more desperate. The superheroes, they’re pretty much children. Fucking children, no older than Adrien or his friends. It’s frankly stomach-turning.

She turns a blind eye though, because what else can she do?

One afternoon after school, she catches Adrien trying to sneak off into one of the big shopping centres in the city. He looks shifty, and she grabs his arm to stop him from running away. When she prompts him to tell her what he’s doing, he admits to her shamefully that he wants to experiment with his clothing. She asks him if he means makeup too. He agrees, quietly, but tells her that his father would never accept the change. At this, Nathalie feels anger for him. Self-expression isn’t something she’s allowed herself to exhibit for a long time, but she loathes that Gabriel has taken this privilege from his son, a fourteen year old who most certainly needs to experiment.

After a moment, she takes off her Alliance and asks if Adrien wants her help with his shopping. When he agrees, eyes lighting up, Nathalie can’t help but squeeze his arm. They stop by Marinette Dupain Cheng’s house at Adrien’s insistence, where they both change into more inconspicuous clothes, and then take the afternoon to find Adrien some skirts, one dress, and some muted makeup for him to try. He seems so excited that Nathalie can barely find the strength to tell him he won’t be able to wear any of it around his father, but he takes it well. He had already known, of course he had. She also takes the time to ask him, hesitantly, whether there is anything new she should know about his pronouns, and he shakes his head with a little laugh, promising to tell her if it ever changes.

As it begins to get cold in Paris, Nathalie’s chronic pain flairs up again, and she stays home for a couple of weeks. Adrien is busy with school and friends, but he finds the time to come and talk to her every evening, and they eat together or study and work alongside each other.

Akuma attacks are coming faster and faster, getting more and more vicious. Adrien is out so often, coming home later, dark circles forming behind his eyes. Sometimes he arrives back with eyeliner or lipgloss on and Nathalie has to hustle him out of Gabriel’s way and help him take it off before his father notices. She’s worried for him; he’s losing his finesse, acting stupidly - tiredly. It doesn’t make sense. Once, he comes home far past his curfew and both Gabriel and Nathalie scold him, though for different reasons. Nathalie is worried for his safety, Gabriel is just spiteful from the failure of his most recent plan.

Adrien runs off to his room and Nathalie goes after him, fuming over Gabriel’s reaction. She finds him in the bathroom tending a large bruise on his torso. He sobs and she holds him, and he whispers to her that he knows he was wrong, he shouldn’t be out late, he feels helpless. Nathalie wants nothing more than to help him, but she doesn’t know how. And she’s fucking furious when she sees the bruise, because what if it was Gabriel who’d done it? Sharply, she asks if his father has been hitting him, swears she’ll kill Gabriel if he is. Adrien says no, and she believes him. That night, after attending to his injury, she promises they’ll get out one day, away from it all. He says he would like nothing more.

She hopes he believes it.

A few weeks later is when things come to a crux. Gabriel is plotting a double Sentimonster attack after the Mayor denies him a something. His monsters attack Adrien’s school, hellbent on exposing everyone’s secrets to the word. Nathalie is incensed - the high school has been targeted multiple times, but she can see the live footage and this time it’s brutal, heroes being flung and punched, kids running for their lives away from the Sentimonsters. Cat Noir gets a footprint in his shoulder, hard enough to dislocate it, and Nathalie shudders when she remembers that these injuries will have to be healed naturally. Right before the last Sentimonster is defeated, Ladybug forces it to reveal a secret, and when Nathalie hears it, she can’t hold back a gasp. Gabriel Agreste is being taken to court by the mayor of Paris on charges of fraud and illegal data collection from the Alliance rings almost every citizen in Paris wears.

Something deep and cruelly grateful within Nathalie rises up. But she doesn’t know what to do with the information yet.

When Adrien doesn’t come home, she goes looking for him at the school. She finds him in one of the classrooms, half unconscious and bleeding from a very recognisable, very footprint-shaped injury marring his shoulder. For a moment, she can’t breathe, can’t function, can’t do anything but drop her head to her knees and cry, heart in her throat with the implications of everything that has transpired this year, every failed plan and every curse against the terrible Chat Noir - her little boy, the light of Emelie’s life, the child at the centre of Gabriel Agreste’s twisted universe.

He looks at her, and she knows he knows that she knows. She wants to say, how could you? And yet she asks herself the same question - how could she have aided Gabriel through all of this? How could it go on? It wasn’t his fault he’d gained an enemy he had to fight, it wasn’t his fault that his enemy was his father. There is no way Nathalie can put herself together after this, but her instincts kick in and she gathers Adrien up, realising that there is no way she can take him back home tonight, not when they could run the risk of Gabriel matching Adrien’s injuries the same way she’d just done. If he ever found out… well, Nathalie didn’t want to think about what would happen. So, Adrien stiff with shock in her arms, she bundles him into a taxi and takes him to a hotel.

The next morning, Nathalie tends to Adrien’s injuries and they simply talk. She does not reveal anything about the peacock miraculous, and her hands shake as she applies bandages to his back, but she manages to keep it mostly together. He tells her, quietly, that he was lying when he said his father never hit him. The tears come then and Nathalie hugs him hard. She divulges the news about the fraud allegations and promises to figure it all out. Promises to make it right.

Adrien asks if he could live with her. She doesn’t know how this will play out, but she tells him she would be honoured. He’s like her son, after all.

The next month is tensioned. Gabriel is charged with fraud and allegations of tracking citizens and collecting data from the Alliance rings. He is also charged with child abuse. Nobody knows exactly who the last charge originated from, but Nathalie Sancouer does. She keeps quiet about it.

Eventually, Gabriel Agreste is found to be guilty. While the law takes hold of him, Nathalie and Adrien hold on to each other, Nathalie doing her best to stay strong for the both of them. Adrien sleeps over with his friend Marinette for a little while, and Nathalie sets out to procure the paperwork that will let her be Adrien’s legal guardian. She buys a small flat overlooking the Seine, just a few minutes walk from Adrien’s high school, and after a complicated, paperwork-filled month, they move in.

It’s not smooth sailing at first. There are too many unanswered questions for both her and Adrien, things they are better off not knowing the answers to. Adrien still gets nightmares, and the move makes Nathalie’s chronic pain flair, and everything feels like it has changed so fast, but despite it all, they make it work. Adrien learns to make a mess in the kitchen, figures out how to make his own sandwiches and clean up after himself without someone doing it for him. Nathalie gets a job at the state library, where she’s very happy. And there are no more Akuma attacks.

Adrien starts experimenting more freely with his self expression, and Nathalie teaches him how to do mascara and how to hem a skirt and what his mother’s favourite poems were. Her name is no longer a taboo in their household. Her child is free to be a child for the first time in his life, though he is also steadily becoming a smart and trustworthy young man, always prepared to help Nathalie with anything she needs. She has the pleasure of taking him to his first pride parade, and watching his face light up as he goes to join his friends. He goes to therapy, and his bruises heal.

Slowly, Adrien and Nathalie themselves begin to heal.

***

[myrulia]

"You two are dating?" - Michikatsu x Reader

SECRET DATING HEADCANONS

COLLAB

.｡.:*✧Synopsis: You and Michikatsu are secretly dating in college, mainly to not attract attention from both his brother and a certain horny friend of his. How will you react when you are caught?

.｡.:*✧Warnings: Small smut

.｡.:*✧[A/N]: This is my part of the Secret/Fake dating collab by @httptamaki, a Modern!AU with our favorite Kimetsu No Yaiba twins!

➢ How you two started dating? Well you met back in High School and that’s where things started to prosper

➢ Michikatsu was a generally well known man with your classmates, and even had a few girls crushing on him and his twin brother, Yoriichi, due to their scarily good looks

➢ Both twins were scarily attractive and that intimidated you at first, especially during high school

`` Have you seen the Tsugikuni brothers today?! They look so good! I tried asking Yoriichi out today but his attention was else where! `` You were off somewhere in the corner of a class, speaking with a close friend of yours about something completely unrelated until all eyes were on you, for Michikatsu Tsugikuni approached you.

➢ Obviously, you were surprised - no, appalled at how a Tsugikuni wanted your attention

➢ That was the day he confessed his own little crush on you whilst being on the roof of the school. How could you not accept? You also had taken a liking to the attractive raven haired male and saying no would be similar to jumping off the same roof where you admitted your feelings

➢ That's when worry set in

➢ All types of girls, boys, and theys liked them both, and constantly thirsted over the two while claiming "they're mine!" It was immature to say the least, but entertaining to see their feelings not get reciprocated from one of them

`` What if by saying we are together, they would start attacking me on purpose? Or saying hurtful things out of spite? `` You inquired with worry laced in your tone. Michikatsu took your hand in his, expressing his own idea. `` I know this might not seem like the best idea, but we do not have to openly tell people we are together, it can be our secret. ``

➢ And that's how your secret relationship started

➢ Of course, you had your worries, but seeing as how your relationship even made it to college due to it starting in your senior year of high school, they all simply washed away

➢ It was actually not as hard as you made it out to be to hide your relationship. During your first year of college, you knew not to act too close, but instead as acquaintances who simply knew each other back in high school

➢ Yet, even though some females who also went to high school with you recognized you as the girl who got asked out by Michikatsu, they did not cause any problems surprisingly enough

➢ Now, you're probably asking how you got caught? Oh boy...

➢ During your second year of college, Yoriichi and Michikatsu started living off campus in their own home that you were excited to learn of from your lover who happily shared the news to you when you both were alone in your dorm

➢ Around that same time, Professor Muzan Kibutsuji, the one teacher you loath the most for always favoring other students and failing to hide it, assigned a group project of 5 for your classroom, and to your luck, you were put in a group with not only the twins, but Douma and Shinobu

➢ You were friends with Shinobu, but not so much with Douma. The male would constantly tease you, trying to get your number at any given second while you were put together at a different table to brainstorm ideas for said project

`` Sooo..~ What are we doing for the project hm? Maybe we should exchange numbers so that we can converse more afterwards. `` Douma's suggestion did not go unnoticed by everyone, who automatically knew what he meant by the wink he directed in your attention. Shinobu, who thankfully also hated the male, slapped him silly upside his head.

➢ Michikatsu, who absolutely despised him, always struggled to hide a specific vein that would pulse on his neck that hinted clear signs of aggravation, but unfortunately, you two were just not ready to openly express your relationship

➢ After the class and the slap hurricane Shinobu laid upon Douma, Yoriichi invited the group to their house, and you being excited that you could finally come over, said yes a little too quickly

➢ Thankfully, it did go unnoticed by everyone, so your nerves were relaxed

`` I'd love to, but I have plans with a special lady that weekend, so unfortunately I cannot make it, maybe Shinobu ca- `` ``I cannot make it either, but [Y/N] can and she'll text me the ideas anyways, have fun, `` was all the biology major female said before turning on her heel and leaving swiftly.

➢ Now having plans set in motion, you waited patiently for the weekend to arrive, and when it did, you were beyond ecstatic

➢ That's where everything went down hill

➢ Thanks to the directions messaged to you by Michikatsu, you made it to their estate with no issues. You were nervous and excited at the same time. It was impossible to not feel such ways when this is the first official time you would be in the private space of your boyfriend

➢ He had also given you a key to entering was not a problem, but what you did not expect to see was your boyfriend standing there and waiting for you

`` Yoriichi isn't going to be home this evening, so I figured we could come up with our own project instead, `` Michikatsu said with a fire ablaze in his eyes as he grew closer to you. The gaze itself caused shivers to emit from your spine once your brain registered at what he was suggesting, and you could not lie, the idea had you wet already.

➢ Obviously you and the raven haired male had slept together a plethora amount of times before, most times leaving you sore and having to suck it up and pretend nothing happened during classes while he sat proudly knowing he was the reason

➢ In a matter of seconds you both are now in his bedroom, you beneath him and him leaving butterfly kisses up and down your neck until his lips latch onto yours again, all the while getting you undressed

➢ Let's skip a little ahead because you know what happens here ;)

➢ By time Michikatsu is already balls deep within your wet depths and thrusting into you like no tomorrow, Yoriichi entered around that time with confusion plastered on his face upon hearing banging against a wall as well as another noise he could not quite decipher

➢ The confused twin trailed up the stairs until he knocked onto Michikatsu's room door, expecting an answer but instead all he heard was an audible moan of his brother's name

➢ The poor look on his face once he learns what his brother and his girlfriend is doing

➢ At that point he is fed up of being overheard so he bursts into the room, although he did not think the entire plan through because now he got the open sight of you having your legs wrapped around Michikatsu's waist, his hands interlocked with yours, as well as the evident sight of both your naked and sweaty bodies

➢ Needless to say, he was traumatized

`` Get out and knock!, `` your lover would say as he throws a pillow at the swiftfully exiting male who looked beyond apologetic. `` I did knock! You were too loud! `` At that point you were beyond red, trying to process the entire situation that just unfolded. Your relationship had finally been known.

➢ Michikatsu immediately pulled out of you, cleaning the both of your bodies of any mess (mainly cum and sweat but shh)

➢ Once you both were clean and fully dressed, your boyfriend carried you bridal style out of his bedroom to a certain twin brother that was waiting impatiently in the living room for an explanation as to why he just saw his partner and twin sleeping together

➢ Now, as the three of you were sitting in the living room, you and your lover being even redder than tomatoes, waited for whatever Yoriichi had to say

`` Now, I do not mind if two consenting adults are having one night stands, but can you explain to me as to why you decided to have such loud sex? `` You completely flushed at his explicit words, but also thankful for the fact that he was utterly clueless about your relationship, although it was about time to come clean. `` Yoriichi, I am sorry you had to come home and see that, but there is something we need to tell you..- `` `` You two are dating? ``

➢ Now at that point, you fully died

➢ Seeing as how you have been silent the entire time and left Michikatsu to say everything, you decided to speak up

`` Yes we're together Yoriichi. We have been together for a long time, since high school actually. We've been in a relationship since then and I apologize for not saying anything. ``

➢ Now that the news was out to the one who deserved to know the most, he was much more understanding and even excited about his older brother finding the love of his life

➢ But the next day, things were real embarrassing

➢ You and Michikatsu were extremely silent at your group table during Professor Kibutsuji's class. Obviously Shinobu's observant self took note of this, along with how you did not send her any of the "ideas" you came up with

➢ Shinobu, Douma, and Yoriichi all stared at the two of you, who were now sitting beside each other and being reddened messes at the news you are about to drop on the observers who were starting to get impatient

➢ You've been secretly dating for years and now that the truth is about to come out, it felt gut wrenching to say the least

`` My brother and [Y/N] have something they'd like to say, `` Yoriichi started so that the topic could get a move on and everyone could get a good grade by getting it over with and working on the project. `` Well..- `` said Michikatsu. `` [Y/N] and I are together, and we have been since high school. We were in a secret relationship. ``

➢ Douma being the fucker he is definitely busted out laughing, holding his stomach as tears formed in his eyes

➢ Shinobu on the other hand stared wide eyed, refusing to believe that she could not realize you both were together for such a long time

➢ Although Yoriichi had a proud smile on his face in view of the fact that the news was already out

➢ But due to the prying ears of many around you, some began staring at your table, the secret was now out and you couldn't do anything about it

➢ Even though, you both were happy knowing you no longer had to hide the happiness you two brought each other, as well as now Michikatsu does not have to worry about Yoriichi anymore, for now he will fuck you if he feels like it, give you attention if he feels like it, and get attention himself if he feels like it.

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

[idontknowmyownmind]

Another one for Mammon lol

I'm stuck in Mammon phase right now

Mammon and Cerberus

• Okay, so Cerberus is always... hostile and try to attack whoever dares to come close, especially demons who are a lower rank.

• High rank power demons are able to tame them by showing dominance.

• No one ever sees them willingly sub to someone.

• Cerberus is also sensitive to what others are feeling.

• So far no one ever comes to them for them.

• Now, we know how Mammon has great self-control and puts up with all the shit given to him.

• His copping machine is to hide away in Cerberus' cage.

• At first, they snarled and were hostile toward him.

• But as the time passed, it subdued.

• The reason they didn't immediately attack him the first time he was there is because they sense his emotion, which is different from the others before.

• The anger that followed along with sadness and grief, and the feeling of not good enough.

• They just sat there in silence until at some point Mammon started talking his problem out.

• He talks freely and lets all his emotions out because he knows Cerberus won't judge him like the others will.

• Cerberus sometimes snarled or growled in what he said as if they understood.

• The first time Mammon braved himself to be more closer, Cerberus eyed him cautiously but didn't move.

• When he knows it's safe, he starts petting them slowly.

• After a minute passed, Cerberus relaxed and Mammon swore he heard the beast purred.

• Now, they're somewhat comfortable with each other

• If they allow it, Mammon will rest himself on their stomach when they curl up protectively around him.

Adding scenes

• There are conflicts with some witches.

• The brothers, Diavolo and Barbatos are somehow involved.

• Kind of war happened and some of them were injured.

• In anger, Diavolo summoned Cerberus.

• One of the stupid witches try to attack Mammon.

• And to everyone's surprise, Cerberus protects him and growls angrily and protectively at the witch.

• When it subsides, everyone nurses their wounds.

• Cerberus walks to Mammon and Lucifer is ready to command him to stop and stay away from his brother.

• He held himself when he saw Mammon raise his hand and one by one of the Cerberus' heads dipped down to be petted.

• They curled up around him and growled at anyone who tried to come closer.

• When Lucifer came closer, they growled and he commanded them to stay.

• It affected them but they still stubbornly tried to shield Mammon away.

• It's not until Mammon calms them that they are safe to come closer to him.

Reincarnation AU

• Mammon died and reincarnated as human thousand years later

• At those time, the brothers changed

• They are more distant and cold toward each other, family and not

• They can't be in one room without an argument broke

• That's why, as much as he can, Diavolo won't let them be in one room or give them task together

• He know it's not helping and just worsening, but everything he had tried were futile

• There is one task in human realm that need all the brothers

• As much as they loathe each other, they tried their best to be in their best behaviours

• The first one who found human Mammon was Beel when he look around for place to eat

• They accidentally bumped at each other

• At first, Beel didn't care who he bumped into. But when he heard familiar grunt he look at the person and eyes to eyes with someone who look exactly like Mammon

• His appearances are still the same, the differences are his eyes are not as beautiful as before but still the most brilliant and unique blue Beel ever seen. His attitudes also still same but more tamed, well maybe a little bad for some humans but by demons standard it's nothing

• "M-mammon?"

• Beel in the average of crying

• (His name is not Mammon, but still something similar with it)

• "W-wow big guy, I don't know this Mammon guy, I'm not him and I assumed he lost, hopefully you find him soon. Well, if you excuse me"

• Doesn't know what posses him, he pat the big guy head before leaving

• When Mammon turn around to leave, he bumped into Belphie who immediately search for his twin when he sense something wrong from him

• No one prepare Belphie for looking face to face with his long dead brother

• The twin stare at him and it creeping him a little so he mumble something before dash away

• They tried to call him but he already nowhere to be see

• They are complicated if they need to tell the other or not because he may be just a stranger, but the resemblances are uncanny

• They decide to wait for a bit while searching more info about Mammon

• The more information they got, the more they are sure that that person is their brother

• So in their last day in human realm, the twin tell the others

• No one believes them at first and a big argument starts. Everyone off to anywhere by themselves

• Asmo walks on the empty street with conflicted feelings, but the biggest feeling he feels right now is anger and longing. How dare the twin pull something like that and how he longing for his second eldest brother

• He doesn't know since when he stop walking and sit on the sidewalk and crying

• Someone approach him but he doesn't care

• "Hey... you okay?" Asked a nervous voice, a familiar nervous voice

• He look up and see someone who look like Mammon

• He is shock and rethink what the twin said, when realization hit him he cry harder which make the stranger panic

• "H-hey, it's okay. I don't know what happened bit everything will gonna be fine"

• Like before, in instinct Mammon sat beside him and hugged him. Asmo hug back tightly and pour all his tears on his chest

• Despite his belwirded action, he keep hugging Asmo, caressing his back and patting his head gently while whispering sweet words

• In his whispering, he slip up and called the stranger Asmo which make him panic and tried to explain he doesn't mean to called him that, they do not even know each other

• Asmo said it is fine and said that it is his name. Mammon is shocked because is there any possibility you accidently call a stranger by their name when it's the first time you meet them?

• Asmo asked if he could stay with him for a while. In truth is he want to be with Mammon longer, he is gonna apologize to the twin later for doubting them

• Okay, Mammon knows the danger of strangers and he knows he should be careful with Asmo even though he looks harmless. But his gut feeling telling him that it's okay and there is this weird pull he feels toward Asmo, same like the one toward the two strangers he met last week

• Mammon allowed him and warned him that his home is rowdy because he shelter kids who had nowhere to go

• When Asmo arrived at the place and watched the kids surrounding Mammon, he can see the pure adoration and love they give to his brother

• He also realized that this human Mammon is a perfect balance of his virtue as an angel and sin as a demon in the past

• The next day, he walk Asmo to where he and his brothers will leave the country

• In the night he stayed, they talk with each others the whole night like someone who know each other for a very long time

• Their walk is silent, but it's comfortable and Asmo just want to be in his brother presence

• When they arrived, the others were already waiting. No one look at their direction so no one know but it change when Mammon say something to Asmo

• The others look at their direction and frozen in place

• Mammon fidgeting and asked Asmo what the hell is wrong with his brothers because they creep him out

• He laugh at him, a genuine one after thousand of years and said it's nothing and they just being weird

• His smile disappear and his eyes watering, he hug Mammon and say that he doesn't want to leave

• Mammon said something and patted his head before pull away

• He grin at Asmo who smile back more happily and look at the others before giving a small smile and walk away

• Mammon doesn't understand the urge to walk to them and hug them one by one

You know, I've been thinking about this.

Physically Satan is the youngest, well he is literally the youngest. So, I just keep thinking that he is the… most innocent brother. I mean, even Beel and Belphie have more experience of life than him.

One thing that keeps bugging my mind is, is Luke younger or older than Satan? He is already there when the brothers are still an angel… so? Someone please enlighten me.

[dracowars]

can i request an imagine im so sorry if it’s too long for your liking but could it be a pureblood slytherin reader x draco imagine where the reader and draco are dating but after some bad news from home (maybe she doesn’t have the kindest parents like draco) she distances herself from everyone and keeps zoning out and finds herself astronomy tower thinking really dark thoughts but draco has constantly been watching over her and is super worried and maybe they have an argument at the tower and draco gets stupid and says something mean or even is dumb to think to accuse her of cheating at the end in which the reader maybe either slaps him (for dramatic effect) or if that’s too much she just says it’s over between the two and she walks off and draco is shocked and tries to stop the reader but she’s already gone and she doesn’t show up to breakfast or lunch and maybe in their class they learn about the boggart again and since they’re older their fears have changed and maybe the reader isn’t paying attention and she’s brought up to test her boggart and it’s draco saying those same things and maybe her parents come out as well and it’s essentially that draco’s unkind words are her fear because it’s the last straw for her until everything breaks because she was holding onto him and she runs out of class and class is dismissed because no one wants to go after that and the reader skips dinner and can be found in moaning myrtles bathroom having a panic attack and she gets really frustrated and hits the the sink really hard to feel something and you can hear myrtle begging the reader to stop and maybe someone sees her and runs to draco to get help but draco runs to the bathroom she’s not there anymore and he finds her at the astronomy tower feeling numb and he overhears her talking to herself and it ends in fluff because he can’t lose her and he figures out it’s probably her parents pressuring her too much again and he can relate because of his and they get back together and it’s just really fluffy at the end maybe they sneak in the kitchen for a quick minute dinner since the reader didn’t eat and draco has to be really kind to the elves heheh

darkness | draco malfoy

pairing: draco x slytherin!reader

word count: 3,1k

summary: where y/n's parents make her life a living hell and draco doesn't really help

a/n: normally i do not write about things like this but i actually really liked the request so i wrote it anyway. i don't mean to offend anyone with this if i misrepresented something, i did my best to get familiar with the topic <3

warnings: angst, major mental health issues including dark thoughts and self-doubt, hints of su*c*de, mentions of blood, cursing, very sensitive topics in general

universe: harry potter

The cold wind blows through your hair and makes it swirl around the air and into your face, goosebumps spreading all over your body at the sudden coldness. To prevent your hair from flying around, you tame your hair with a hair tie, your gaze fixed straight ahead while your face is illuminated by the setting sun.

You really missed this place during the holidays. The astronomy tower.

Whenever you are stressed from doing a lot of homework or studying in general, this is the place you can hust go to and are somehow always able to relax. The view is breathtaking and you love to watch the sun - or the moon, depening on what time of the day you find yourself up here - shine.

And this special place also gives you the security that you so urgently needed.

The winter holidays were a living hell for you. You have extremely strict parents who see a great importance in your education, but that is basically the only thing that interests them about you. That you bring honor to your pureblood family. That they can proudly show you off to other pureblood families even though they know nothing about you and who you really are.

Until recently they did not even know that you are in a relationship. Unfortunately, one thing led to another and they found it out by an unlucky coincidence which consisted of them picking you up at platform 9¾ for the very first time since you have been at Hogwarts. There they saw you with a platinum haired boy, kissing.

This boy turned out to be Draco Malfoy, the son of the pureblood Malfoy family, who you parents cannot stand at all. To put it in other words, they loathe each other to death and that for probably no reason, at least you have not been able to figure it out yet.

So of course they were not very thrilled that you are in a relationship with a Malfoy, which they showed you straight away. They locked you inside of your room at home because you had to 'think about your actions and their consequences'.

However, when they realized that their behavior would not change anything, they began to put you down. They threw the worst swear words at you, wanted to force you to break up with him and told you what a terrible shame you are for your family. That Draco could never love you and that you are ugly, cheap and overall useless. That is how it went on for your whole vacation.

Your parents always treated you this way, it was not new to you. Nevertheless it hurts every time, even if you try to hide it. You would rather keep all the pain inside of you than to tell others about it, because they are not able to help you anyway. Unfortunately, you did the math without your boyfriend.

This morning at the Central Station of London, Draco immediately saw that you were not feeling well. Any attempts to get you to tell him what is going on with you had been useless though so he left you alone at some point, but you still noticed how he kept staring at you for the whole train ride to Hogwarts.

You would love to tell him, tell him about everything, but something inside of you is stopping you from doing so. An invisible barrier inside of your head, probably fear, that you simply cannot overcome. You know that Draco's parents are pretty similar to yours, but still you just cannot manage to talk to him and you notice how it slowly but surely destroys your deep bond with one another.

Continuing to look into the distance and watch the clouds encircle the beautiful setting sun, which colors the sky in reddish colors, your thoughts suddenly wander to gloomy places. Dark places where you usually only go to when you are locked inside of your own room at home.

But now they are even attacking you at your safest place.

You perfectly know yourself that you are not good enough for Draco. You do not deserve this incredibly great person as your boyfriend. You do not even deserve him as a best friend, no, you do not deserve him at all. You are worthless and for him you are nothing more than one girl out of many.

And still you keep on being selfish and do not end it.

Completely lost in your own dark thoughts, you do not even notice at first how the tears are already streaming down your cheeks like waterfalls. Sniffling, you rub your eyes, smeer your discreetly applied mascara, and wipe the tears from your face.

"Why am I still doing this to myself?", you sob and lower your head, looking deep down at the grounds of Hogwarts. The tears that are enriched with pain flow out of your eyes and fall into the dark depths, causing you to slowly close your eyes.

The sudden mention of your name from behind you makes you abruptly breathe out in shock and your head jumps up as you turn around. Your eyes lock with the gray, sparkling eyes of your boyfriend, who is currently looking at you with pity.

"W-What are you doing here, Draco?", you sniff and wrap your arms around your body in an attempt to hide from him so he does not have to look at you.

"Why are you crying?", he asks, ignoring your question, and before you can realize, he is already standing right in front of you and gently places his hands on your tear stained, puffy cheeks. Gently wiping away your tears with his thumb, he searches your eyes for answers that can explain your current terrible condition. He cannot bear to see you like this, so fragile and deeply hurt.

Whatever happened, he will make sure you know that he is and always will be here for you. And he will not let, whatever it is, continue to hurt you so badly.

"If you do not tell me, then I cannot help you", he softly whispers and brushes the strands of hair behind your ear that have escaped from your ponytail in the wind and then carefully lifts your head so you have to look him in the eyes.

"It's nothing", are the only words you get out, your throat thightening, but all you would like to do is to just finally tell him about everything.

"Do you even realize how worried I am about you, Y/N?! It is killing me!", Draco suddenly raises his voice at you, causing you to flinch and take a step back, your back now touching the railing. Noticing the power of his words, he sighs and looks to the ground in shame.

Your head processes his facial expression and his gestures and again makes you believe that his sadness is your fault. By not being able to control your stupid feelings, you hurt him.

"I-I really have to go", you stutter out and quickly run past him, pressing your coat around your body.

"Have fun with Blaise then", you hear him say and you abruptly stop in your motion. Not fully understanding the words he just said, you turn to him.

"What?", you ask with not more than a breath coming out, hurt evident in your expression as he suddenly stomps in your direction furiously, a disgusted look on his face while he looks into your eyes.

"Don't act stupid now, Y/N! You hardly speak a word to me anymore, you avoid body contact, you are totally dismissive in general and you can't even look at me anymore! Why do you not just admit that you are cheating on me?!", Draco accuses you out of nowhere, not knowing what he is even saying himself, and you could swear that at this very moment your heart has finally burst into a thousand splinters and your last hold has now completely disappeared.

Losing the control over your body for a second, your hand lands on his cheek with full force. There is a dead silence before you just turn and leave, leaving him behind on the astronomy tower. You can hear him say your name after you, but you block it out and run down the stairs, crying, your vision blurred.

Missing one of the last stairs in your hurry, you fall down onto the cold floor. You get up again as quickly as possible when you hear steps behind you and you run. You run for your life while you disappear into the endless corridors of Hogwarts, making your way to your dorm.

The next morning your eyelids stick together from all the crying and you have a aching headache. You did not close one eye that night and just laid there crying in your bed silently until at some point there were no more tears.

In front of the door of your prefect dorm room, you can hear how the other students are leaving your house on their way to breakfast, but your stomach makes a flip when you only think about food. That is the reason why you decide to stay in your warm, safe and comfortable bed a little longer and to skip breakfast, which is unnecessary anyway. Avoiding other people seems like the best idea for you right now.

Just in time for the beginning of your first lesson of the long day, you made it out of your bed and are now sitting in Defence Against the Dark Arts with Professor Snape.

Your thoughts are whirling around in your head and you do not understand a single word Snape is saying in front of the class, even if you are really trying your best to understand him. Furthermore does it not help your concentration that you see how Draco keeps staring at you from across the room out of the corner of your eye. However, you do not have enough strength for this anymore after a while and therefore focus your gaze out the window at the rising sun.

At least you are distracted until all of the students get up from their seats all of a sudden and you only watch them confused until you notice that they are only waiting for you to join them and you quickly walk, almost stumbling, to them. Ignoring the looks and laughter of everyone, you play around with the hem of your grey Slytherin sweater and ignore them while doing so.

"Well then, let us begin. Ms. Y/L/N, would you please do us the honor and start", Snape clears his throat as you look at him in shock, noticing by the expression on his face that he definetely knows that you did not listen to him at all and have not been present with your mind.

Since you do not have a chance to defy yourself anyway, you nod and go to the position he points at in front of an old, dusty closet. With confusion all over your face, you switch between looking at Professor Snape and the cabinet as he suddenly opens the door and you take a big step back, startled to death.

"Have fun with Blaise then", Draco spits in your face disparagingly and is now slowly walking towards you after stepping out of the cupboard, increasing your pulse. The tears find their way back into your eyes right away while you just keep looking at him petrified, frozen in your spot.

"Why do you not just admit that you are cheating on me?!", he yells at you again and your vision becomes more and more blurred, your ears start to beep while he shouts at you, bringing back the painful memories of yesterday.

"No! Please don't leave me, Draco!"

It is like you are back on the astronomy tower again, your hair blowing in the wind as he steps towards you. In the next moment he is gone all of a sudden and instead of him, two other people are now in front of you.

"You are a shame for our whole family, you stupid brat", your father insults you and you fall onto your knees, holding your hands against your head in pain.

"Stop it! Please!", you beg them, but of course they do not stop, they only make their words worse.

"Draco can never seriously love someone like you. I mean, look at you! You are less worthy than dirt", your father tells you and your entire body is now trembling when you finally see a black cloak in front of your eyes and your parents vanish into thin air.

"Please stay with me", you choke through your tears, words addressed to Draco who had to watch the scene in front of him with pure horror in his eyes.

Breathing heavily, you look up at Professor Snape, who looks at you in disbelief, but as your eyes wander around the room to see everyone staring at you, your legs automatically carry you out of the classroom in the next moment, unable to bear their burning glances.

You run down the empty corridor with a faint vision in search of a safe place to hide until you arrive at one of the girls' bathrooms and rush in, not thinking about someone possibly being in there.

Slamming the door shut behind you, you stumble to the sinks with trembling knees and support all of your weight with your hands on either side of one sink as your legs fail beneath you. Clinging to the edge of the sink, you cry bitterly. The cold walls of the bathroom echo your crying several times, allowing you to hear your own pain.

"What is wrong, Y/N?", you hear a soft voice next to your ear and when you look up it is none other than Myrtle. Apparently of all places you ended up in her bathroom and are not as alone as you wished for.

"I am fine", you say with a monotonous voice, forcing yourself into an upright position, but literally everyone would see that you are definetely not fine, even a ghost.

"Y/N. You look anything but okay. Can I somehow help you-"

"Just leave me alone!", you angrily yell at her and lose control of your body, only seeing a thick, red substance running over your hand when it is already too late. Broken pieces of glass lie around you on the floor, which flew through the air when your fist hit them and inflicted small wounds on your face.

"You need to stop, Y/N!", Myrtle commands, but you do not listen and let yourself fall onto the floor, kicking your foot against the sink and thereby unintentionally loosen one of the old pipes. The sound of flowing water fills the room, surrounding your body on the floor.

On the edge of passing out, you lie in the cold water and stare at the ceiling while Myrtle has disappeared without a trace.

What you do not know, however, is that Myrtle is already on her way to find help and comes across Draco, who is running back and forth through the hallways while searching for you.

It takes Draco a moment to understand Myrtle's fast explanation, but when he does he runs into the direction of the girls' bathroom without hesitation. He rushes through the door into the flooded bathroom and all he sees is the broken mirror and the slightly reddish puddles in the water.

But he does not find you in there and realizes that there can only be one place where you could be.

Walking through the corridors of Hogwarts at lightning speed, he finally reaches the staircase leading to the astronomy tower and goes them up in no time. Once he arrives at the top, he abruptly stops when you come into his field of vision.

There you are, completely broken, leaning your head against the railing, your knees closely drawn to your body while your painful crys echo through his ears.

"Why did you not listen to your parents, you disgusting piece of daughter", you talk to yourself, not noticing that you are not alone any longer. With your already injured hand you hit the pole of the railing once, immediately regretting it as the pain spreads through your body.

However, your gaze lands on a person standing directly ahead and your eyes widen, but unfortunately you lack the strength to stand up, to yell at him, or to resist as he slowly sits down next to you.

Neither of you say a word, but it does not take long before he gently takes you into his strong arms, providing you with the support you needed so badly, so you can cry while he strokes over your hair. He whispers repentances in your ear over and over again. That he regrets his words, that he takes them back and that he was such an idiot.

"You are so wonderful", he confirms and gives you a kiss on the forhead, careful not to scare you away, continuing to stroke your upper arm with his hand.

"Do not believe in what your parents told you, angel. I will stay with you", he shakily breathes and has to pull himself together to not let a tear slip out of his eyes at any moment. "I am sorry that I let you down."

His last few words pull a trigger inside of your head and suddenly everything pours out of your mouth at once. Your fears, your worries. Everything your parents ever said or did to you. You finally tell him about all of it now, even though you should have done it much earlier.

"I love you more than anything, Y/N. You are my world and the reason I live. Never let anyone make you think that I do not love or deserve you, especially not your parents", Draco explains to you sincerely as you stare at him, exhausted but happy.

You slowly put your head on his shoulder and close your eyes, letting the good and bright drown out all of your dark and bad thoughts. Meanwhile, Draco carefully examines your injured hand before scooping you up into his arms while standing up.

"No matter how much you hate me right now, you have to eat something", he tells you, but you do not answer and just enjoy his close presence while you wrap your arms tightly around his neck, letting him carry you away.

If he had known how terrible you were feeling earlier, he would have done something much sooner. He should have been more pushy and not let you get away with a simple 'i am fine'. But now that he knows, he definetely learned from it.

And Draco would have never forgiven himself if he had let you just go like that.

[dynyamight]

Had some thots c: wanted to share

Izuku is in a unfulfilling marriage. His husband is waaay too work obsessed and their intimate life? It's either non existent or is not enough to make him feel satisfied. He should have been happy. It is not like his husband didn't love him,or that he didn't have any love for him back,or that they had money issues... but it was all really fucking boring. That,until Izuku by accident bumps into his childhood friend and former crush: Katsuki. They began talking,a lot. Texting almost everyday. Sometimes meeting up for coffee. His husband doesn't know any of this. He learns about Katsuki's job and catches up to him on their families and nerdy hobbies. Izuku's conscience is heavy with guilt for how he finds himself falling for Katsuki just like he did through their childhood to high school to when they went their separate ways,and how his husband has no idea about it. And if that wasn't enough? Katsuki was his husband's boss. That was awkward.

Izuku tried to end things. He really did. It hurt,but he couldn't keep hiding from his husband any longer... even if his and Katsuki's feelings were mutual. But that quickly proved to be useless when one night, his husband stayed on work later than usual,and someone knocked on the door. His heart almost pulled out of his chest when he saw Katsuki at his door.

There was 0 resistance. Katsuki and him had a brief screaming match with their feelings laid all out and when things became unbearable he took Izuku. Right then and there. It was rough. It was sweet. It was everthing Izuku was craving. They couldn't even care if Izuku's husband came in. But that sure was annoying when he did...

aaaah, so, this is a very long idea thought !! i would have loved to write a small fanfic snippet, but this deserves a whole multi-chapter !!

so instead, here’s some more thots ;)

- Bakugou works in a hero agency/work office setting, his boss being Midoriya’s husband, but he has no idea. He just finds the guy rather boring & shit, with demanding better times & numbers. And, if this is a No Quirk universe, then it’s a finance records office. Regardless, it’s a job that Bakugou excels in, but he doesn’t care about his boss.

- He knows the boss has a husband, from the whispers around the work place. But, he’s just more surprised the guy’s married. A boring, shit man probably with a boring shit spouse.

- Midoriya comes back into his life when he walks into the office, hoping to surprise his husband with a coffee run. Alas, he bumps into Bakugou instead, with his husband in a meeting.

- Bakugou initially feels uncomfortable, as well as Midoriya. An awkward air laid thick; they hadn’t kept in contact for years, despite being childhood friends. Though, for Midoriya, it’s even more awkward, having to face his very first crush. Something he always felt guilty about, while friends.

- Fortunately, they start seeing each other more often, after the first bump. Midoriya often visits the office, coffee and lunches for his husband. And, he seems to always appear during Bakugou’s lunch breaks. They start with small talk, but it slowly morphs into fun conversation.

- Bakugou believes Midoriya is an errand boy of sorts for his boss, and never thinks to ask about their relationship. He just assumes they were two good friends, who Midoriya willingly helps out. And, whenever Bakugou shits on his boss, complaining, he brushes off Midoriya’s silence to his refusal to bully anyone.

- In reality, on Midoriya’s side, things get a little complicated. He feels he should mention he’s married, taken, & obviously the husband of the boss. But, each time he’s with Bakugou, the thought flies out; his head filled with only their conversations. And, right when the time is right, Midoriya chickens out, unable to admit his truth.

- At first, when he takes off his wedding band to meet Bakugou, it feels foreign, weird. He feels terrible when he comes home, hurriedly rushing to put it back on. But, after more and more times he meets Bakugou, the more times he takes it off. And each time, it slowly feels better.

- However, his friends worry that he shouldn’t continue his relations with Bakugou. They mention cheating, and Midoriya denies it. He’s not cheating. Right?

- Bakugou’s friends insist that he’s totally crushing hard on Midoriya; they keep messaging each other every day, and they are now going out together, outside the workplace. Bakugou refuses at first, simply saying it’s all just catching up. Catching up on the years. Not catching feelings.

- Yet, they both do.

- In his wilted, slowly toxic relationship with his dismissive husband, Midoriya relies on Bakugou’s shoulders. He listens all Midoriya’s vents, rants, and tears of feeling unwanted, and always offers the emotional support he has yearned from his husband. Interlaced with his usual curses & vulgar language, Bakugou speaks sense to him, succeeding in making Midoriya feel appreciated.

- And, in his completely dead love life, late night hookups littering it, Bakugou finds himself deeply caring for Midoriya. More than just a one night stand; Bakugou could see Midoriya as something more. His gentle comfort he offers, his bright aura that fills his heart, and the kind soul he continues to give to Bakugou, leaves him falling.

- Bakugou does try to insinuate multiple date proposals, feeling confident each time. It feels reciprocated. It feels genuine. As if, maybe, perhaps, Midoriya likes him. But, he’s gently turned down, with Midoriya using a fake busy day to excuse himself, every time.

- It’s then that Midoriya realizes that none of this is okay. He has a husband; someone who he promised to be with till the end of his days. And, as much as he wanted Bakugou, the man was nothing more than a temptation. Right?

- His husband finds out of all the phone calls and meet ups his employee has done with Midoriya. After his confrontation, he listens to Midoriya’s tearful confession, admitting to his emotional cheating.

- However, his husband gives him an out; if it didn’t mean anything, he will forgive Midoriya. If it did, Midoriya will leave, tonight.

- Bakugou meant everything to Midoriya. He was more than anything his husband ever amounted in their marriage. He was the man that Midoriya would want to see the rest of his life with.

- Midoriya lies. In self doubt & fear of being on his own, the divorce process overwhelming him and the reactions of his family and friends hearing about it all, he sticks with his husband.

- Besides, his entire life was surrounded, built around his husband. Leaving his husband meant losing his house, his car, his worth in society, his source of affection and love. It was as if leaving his husband meant losing everything.

- He is told to never speak to Bakugou again; his husband wants to fire him, but Midoriya begs for Bakugou to be unharmed. It had nothing to do with work, and so it would simply be too cruel. Hence, his promise to stay away.

- After dead silence from Midoriya, Bakugou finds out from his coworkers that Midoriya was the husband of his boss. It feels like an out of body experience, now with everything making sense. The constant meet ups at the office building. The date rejections. Midoriya was a married man. Who simply could never be Bakugou’s. He had to give up.

- But then, everything becomes infuriating. As the days go by, Bakugou grows upset; Midoriya deserves better. All the tears, the rants, and the self loathing was all caused by his neglectful, boring ass husband, who didn’t deserve someone like Midoriya. He knew he could be better. No, he is better.

- The bang at Midoriya’s door startles him, and his gut drops. He thinks his husband has come home mad, but instead it’s Bakugou, standing there. His heart lunges, wanting to hug him right there.

- Midoriya hurries to try to close the door instead, and quickly Bakugou juts his foot into the doorway. He steps into the apartment, furious. And, it’s there that he demands Midoriya to be honest.

- Honest? Midoriya’s confused.

- If he meant nothing, Bakugou would walk away; a similar ultimatum his own husband had given him. But, this time, Bakugou adds that if he does mean anything, even a sliver amount, Midoriya needs to take that chance, and walk out with him.

- They start yelling. Midoriya insists that he needs to stay in his marriage. Bakugou calls it lifeless and bullshit. Midoriya states that his husband is a good man, that doesn’t deserve a cheating man. Bakugou demands that it’s Midoriya that’s the good man, who’s worth more than his shit husband could even imagine. Midoriya swears that there is nothing he can do. Bakugou says there is something; he can walk out with him, right here, right now.

- Finally, with their heated argument reaching its highest, Midoriya confesses tearfully that it’s all so hard; wanting Bakugou, ever since he was little, only to be married and unable to explore his feelings, now.

- That’s when Bakugou takes his shaking hands, securely and firmly, and admits that while he can’t outmatch Midoriya’s lifetime crush on him, he admits he’s falling for Midoriya. And, these feeling of his are worth fighting for him. He knows he should leave, let Midoriya continue to be married peacefully. But, he can’t let go, without putting all of his efforts out there.

- Unless Midoriya was to reject him now, completely sure, Bakugou swears to continue fighting for Midoriya.

- Those words, promising absolute dedication to Midoriya and their potential, leaves Midoriya in tears. He’s been with his husband for years, and he has yet to feel worth fighting for.

- It had always felt his husband simply ignored his needs, only ever recognizing them if they were to his benefit. It was always as if his husband was just so certain Midoriya could never leave him, and hence, never felt a need to impress, surprise, or even cherish him.

- Finally, Midoriya pulls Bakugou into a hug, whispering if that’s truly how he feels. Bakugou hugs back, swearing that it was his honest truth. He wouldn’t make shit up, especially not to Deku.

- Midoriya tells him to please take care of him. Bakugou promises.

- With his husband coming home from his late night shift, he abruptly walks in on their embrace, furious. He demands Bakugou to get out, or else the police would arrive.

- Bakugou leaves, but not without Midoriya. His husband holds him back, demanding that he stays. Midoriya refuses, finally taking off his wedding band for the last time. He confesses that Bakugou did mean everything, and it was his own fears that forced him to stay.

- But now, he’s brave, and willing face the world without him. He’s brave, if Kacchan was right there with him.

[harbouredsoulss]

Let’s Talk About Love - Part 2

Authors note: With all the love that Let’s Talk About Love has received, I knew I had to make a part 2! That and I couldn’t let that first part be the ending!

I really hope you enjoy! 💖

MASTERLIST

Please don’t forget to like, reblog and comment (if you can!). It would mean the world to me 💖

~ also am aware Angel does not have the protective screen on his helmet (as we can see in this gif). I just added it for the sake of drama lol ~

Let’s Talk About Love - Part One 

Angel Reyes X [OC]

Warnings: Swearing - 18+

Word count: 1.2k words

Summary: The idea of love haunts Angel Reyes. He doesn’t know how to commit himself to it. So he sticks to what he knows and does what he does best and he uses his best friend to do that. But the thing is, she’s madly in love with him and Angel being the most clueless man in the world, has no idea. 

_________________________________________________________

Hand gripping the throttle, Angel continued to accelerate the bike, faster and faster until everything around him began to blur. He didn’t know where he was going. Normally when he got like this, all worked up, there would be only one place he’d find himself.

His head was swamped with malicious, confusing and tempting thoughts. The thought that scared him the most was the one telling him that he felt that same. The ones that brought up her confession and replayed it over and over again. 

Love wasn’t a remedy Angel knew well. It was something he always tried to separate himself from. Something he didn’t allow himself self to experience or deserve. But she elicited these intense feelings from him that felt so strange – foreign. 

It was too much; too intense. 

Pulling off to the side of the road the dirt swirled around him in a haze, only after turning the engine off and sitting there for a few moments did the dust begin to settle.

In a fit of blind rage Angel unclipped his helmet and threw it across from him. A loud crack then begun reverberating around the empty space. His face was flushed red. He was pissed. Storming off the bike, he headed towards the cracked helmet but instead of picking it up he kicked it forward, again, and again. 

______________________________________________

Meanwhile… 

I stood there in my front doorway dumbfounded. My gaze lingered on the distance where only minutes ago I could see Angel, who left me standing here rattled, confused, and with questions unanswered. I was completely and utterly heartbroken but what did I expect? A shower of love? The same declaration?

I knew what I signed up for when I allowed our friendship to turn into something more. I allowed myself to be deluded with the idea that I could turn it around and make our relationship into something more meaningful. 

How did we lose our way? 

Angel was always there. We had always sought each other’s company for brief moments of solace which had never included sex, until now.  

How did we get here?

I didn’t want to cry. I couldn’t allow myself to. 

I was filled with so much anger and rage that it almost masked the sadness. The flames had been fanned and now it was too late to put out. I burned with loathing. For myself, and for him. I wanted to scream, at him and at the world. The worst part of it all was the fact that I still wanted him. That small, beaten up piece of me still loved him.

Backing myself inside the house, I grabbed the handle of the door and slammed it shut, I then opened it and slammed it shut again. I continued to repeat this process for what felt like hours but was no more than a minute, pushing my arm harder and faster. 

I let out a scream that was filled with all my rage and frustration. I allowed my body to sink to the floor, hands concealing my face as I finally allowed the tears to come. I suddenly turned into a waterfall, with the tears beginning to cascade down. I was a mess. 

Who had I become to allow a man such as Angel, to make me feel this way?

Sighing, I wiped away my tears and leaned myself against the door. I couldn’t move. It was ridiculous. I felt ridiculous. 

“Who am I becoming?” I asked out loud. 

Minutes seemed to tick by as I sat there, knees brought up to my chest, hoddie clinging to my skin as I let my thoughts wash over me. They wouldn’t stop. I tried to think of how this could have been handled better. Could I have gotten a better outcome?

A roar of a bike drew me out of my thoughts. I stood up quickly, tripping over my own feet as I rushed to the front window to peak through the blinds. Surely it wouldn’t be Angel? The man ran with his tail between his legs at my confession. I couldn’t believe he would come back to face me – to face what I said. 

But it was. It was him. 

I watched him as he turned off the engine of his bike and sat there. Whilst he did, I took the time to take in his appearance. He looked similar to when he left, though perhaps it was the expression on his face that made me doubt that. He looked unsure. I focused more closely taking in his finer details. It was then I noticed the crack, which jutted across the plastic of his helmet that was there to protect his eyes. I tried to stop the fear that spiked through me as I began to think of what could’ve happened. 

Walking back towards the door I opened it again taking a step outside. He looked up at me, the sound of the door groaning behind, notifying him of my presence. 

“What are you doing back here Angel?” I asked as I walked towards where he still sat on the stationary bike. 

“Your lack of response made it fairly obvious as to how you feel.”

I allowed my arms to cross over my chest. The heat of the afternoon sweltering around me, and with no wind to be felt, sweat began beading on my forehead.

Now that I was outside, I could take in his full appearance and by all accounts he looked okay, aside from his helmet. He was unharmed. 

“If you are just going to sit on your bike, in my drive-way ignoring me, I am going to go back inside. So, either talk or you can leave, again.”

He looked over to me then, eyes searching mine. He looked deflated and defeated, insecurity oozing from him. He took his helmet off, placing it carefully on the handlebars. He got up and leaned his body against the bike, this time, taking me in. 

“You know that I know I don’t deal well with the emotions shit yeah?” His hands searched his jacket pocket for something, “I don’t know how to process it all. So… what happened before is how I-I react – deal with it.” Finding what he was looking for he placed the cigarette in his mouth, and lit up. 

Dragging the cigarette away, puffing out a circle of smoke, he continued.

“Regardless of that. I know deep down I do fucking care. About you; us. All of it. I guess I took advantage of the fact that you let me come in, to push that shit away. I don’t like that I did it but I did and I can’t take it back.”

There were no words that could express what I was experiencing. Angel was confessing. To me, about his feelings. 

“I know I have no right coming back here, especially after the way I left before. I know that would have made you upset. Shit I can see it on your face now. I know you’ve been crying. I want you, more than just your body, more than just the sex. I want your soul too. I’ll make mistakes; I always do. But I promise- fuck that, I will make a vow to you that I won’t run. Not again. I’ll put in the work. I’ll take the time, because I am so madly, deeply, in love with you too.” 

[littlemissagrafina]

A Man And His Bots

A look into the relationship and care between Tony and his bots and A.I's.

Read on AO3

Tony had people issues. Everyone knew it. He knew it.

People were foreign to him, they had been ever since he was young. He just couldn't understand them.

No, that was wrong, he could understand them, it just wasn't always easy to do and more often than not it was exhausting to even try. Sure, there were some people he understood, his mom, Jarvis, and even Howard. Tony could understand him easily. It didn't take a genius to know that the elder Stark disliked, even hated, his son at times.

The tears and occasional bruises left on Tony's skin were a testament to that fact.

Anyone other than his mother and Jarvis were almost a trial to talk to and to be around. It made the social networking at events that he was pushed into by his parents that much more unbearable for Tony. 

The dinners, gala's, and charity events were some of the most draining nights in Tony's young life that he could remember. They always left him longing to be back in his room with his tools and various pieces of metal and machinery.

Maria and Jarvis understood his need to be alone and in the quiet of his own little world, but Howard hated it. Oh, he hated it. But usually if Tony had behaved well enough through what felt like the hundredth event in the space of a month, the man would turn a reluctant blind eye to the nights that his wife and Jarvis would help Tony sneak out to the quiet solitude of his room.

Tony grew to miss those nights where they would help him escape once he was shipped off to boarding school on his father's command. At least finishing senior year by fifteen had left him without many friends, either due to jealousy, bullying, or his own unwillingness to socialise.

Most of them had been after his money and status anyway, a hard fact Tony had had to face when the rare times of loneliness forced him to attempt a friendship with anyone. Eventually he stopped caring to try, and he spent his lonely nights as he always had, with tools, scraps, and blueprints.

It was thanks to those nights the the rudimentary start of his own A.I and been birthed, the work and escape it provided lasting right into his first year at MIT where, much to his surprise, he seemed to have formed what he thought could be a genuine friendship with his roommate.

James Rhodes. Or Rhodey as Tony had taken to calling him. In the beginning the older teen had come across as a stuck up,  goody two shoes. Over time, he had proven to have a fun and mischievous side that matched perfectly to Tony's own as they grew closer.

Although Tony had grown attached to his Honeybear, it didn't take away from the many, many times he needed his own space and a quiet retreat; a fact that Rhodey understood just as Maria and Jarvis had, something that took Tony by endless surprise.

Rhodey showed Tony an unused room near the campus labs, explaining that it was once meant to be an extension of a separate lab but had never been pulled properly into the plans and curriculum. As such, it had been forgotten in a way.

It was the perfect room for Tony to turn into his own getaway, and one that Rhodey had even helped him set up with a couple spare benches and tables they found in the storage rooms, soon filling it with other things such as a random couch they found in perfect condition outside a frat house, some equipment for Tony’s inventing, and other stray items they collected over time.

It was in this room that Dumm-E whirred fully to life, finally sentient and real.

And Tony loved him.

---

Eventually U would join Dumm-E in the "brotherhood of bots" as Tony called them even though there were only two of them.

He wasn't quite sure how it happened (if at all), sometimes even imagined if he was just reading too much into it, but Tony swore that his little bots seemed to express emotions at times.

There were little whirs that they emitted when he would power them up or if they were on when he entered a room. They almost felt like greetings to Tony.

There was also the panicked beeping at the numerous fires Tony would inevitably cause, or when he injured himself in the lab. Of course, followed by their more often than not misshapen attempts and trying to help him with said fire or injury.

Tony didn't think he'd ever be able to leave a fire extinguisher safely in their keep but he still continued to try.

There were other instances that made him question the emotional range of the little A.I's he'd made, but it was their greetings and "helpful" times that always managed to warm his heart.

They weren't people, but they were his and he could understand them.

And he hoped the bots somehow knew how much he cared for them in turn.

---

It was after Jarvis' death that Tony truly became dependent on his creations. Sure, he'd needed them after his parent's death, just like he'd always needed his tinkering, inventing, and whatever other techy think he was doing at that time.

But Jarvis' death… it broke him in a way that Howard and Maria's hadn't been able to. If he felt like it, Tony could probably wonder the reasoning behind it, if it was because of the clear difference in affection, care, and feeling of responsibility that the man held rather than what Howard or Maria had. But he didn't feel like it.

It was listening to a recording of a voicemail that Jarvis had sent him during college that gave Tony the idea. 

Locking himself in his lab, he hunted down every other voicemail or video he could get his hands on, typed code until his fingers cramped, and downed coffee until his legs were buzzing.

Rhodey knocking on his door in an attempt to curb his friend's self-destructive tendencies was flat out ignored, each call and voicemail not heard.

It continued until his single minded grief and need to create and to fix was softened and his work complete.

The most advanced A.I known to man was created, and Tony's loneliness and grief had someplace to go.

Jarvis was reborn.

---

The familiar safety and retreat of the bodyless British voice stayed with Tony for so many years. It was there through his many tabloid rises and falls, his numerous parties, one night stands and two week girlfriends.

It was there for his breakdowns, his breakdowns, and retreating from the world around him.

He was there before Afghanistan and once again after. Through Iron Man being born, through Obie's betrayal, the palladium, avengers, Killian.

All of it and Jarvis was there. Sure Tony had people to lean on, to love. He had Rhodey, Pepper, and Happy, but Dumm-E, U, and Jarvis were different.

The A.I had slowly become an entity to Tony. He wasn't just an animated voice anymore, he was the legacy of the man who was once practically his father.

And it was only so fitting that he experience the grief and loss of the man twice.

When Ultron happened and Jarvis was destroyed, Tony felt as if he went into a blanket of shock, only feeling and grieving once he was fully alone. And dammit did he grieve.

It manifested in anger first, and when that faded, it moved to sadness. A deep aching sadness reminiscent of his first loss. He hated it, loathed it, and wished he had the same outlet he had had for the first death.

But didn't he?

What was stopping him from creating it again? But not another Jarvis. Tony couldn't do this again, but what if he created another A.I? One separate from Jarvis and his meaning?

So he got to work, alone with his bots and once again spinning his grief into lines of code.

This time, a sister for Dumm-E and U was born. A spunky, Irish A.I with a similar proclivity for sarcasm to what her predecessor held.

"Lights on, baby girl. We've got work to do."

---

Just as Tony had grown to need Dumm-E and U, how he had needed Jarvis, he needed Friday too.

He supposed it sounded strange to regular people, the way he was more comfortable around his creations than around most of the human population, but to him it wasn't unlike the way people would gravitate towards animals, or books, or art.

It was easy for Tony. It was a comfort to him in the same way having a cat on your lap or a dog across your feet was, just in a different, mechanical or technical form.

The constant presence of Friday in his lab and his suits and his home was important to Tony. The strange alliance and comradery they had formed once again boosting the feeling of curiosity and care towards the emotions his creations had developed.

It was something he cherished, something he needed.

She wasn't Jarvis, but she had helped him and been with him in his times of need since she had been born, and Tony knew her and the bots would be there, still, in many times to come.

"Drop my needle, Fri. And show me Peter's patrol feed too, would'a?"

"Right away, boss."

[doctorofmagic]

My thoughts on Stephen and Carol

That was... unexpected, to say the least. Now I have this task to elaborate my feelings and opinions in a way that is paradoxically personal and rational at the same time.

Let’s begin.

Background

Carol and Stephen know each other for a very, very long time. Their first team-up happened in Marvel Team-Up v1 #76 (1978), when Silver Dagger captured Clea (again - and yes, I’ll talk about her later). Both Spider-Man and Ms. Marvel decided to offer a helping hand to Stephen.

Stephen also assisted Carol in a mystic issue, combining their powers in Ms. Marvel v2 #4-5 (2006). It’s from this very run I suspect Kelly Thompson pictured the idea of a relationship between them. Nothing official, but all it takes to assume there’s something else going on is a mere look.

It’s true they were on opposite sides post Civil War, but Carol decided to join the New Avengers later on, which also gives this relationship one more layer.

Lastly, Aaron’s Avengers also featured them on the same team for a while, in addition to the previous Captain Marvel v10 #6-7, in which they swapped bodies and Carol had a taste of Stephen’s pain. We’re also considering Captain Marvel v10 #19 because, at this point, it’s clear that Thompson had plans for them since 2019.

Captain Marvel #27

Since this a blog dedicated to Stephen, it’s hard for me not to look through his perspective. I know the story is about Carol and how she’s struggling to mourn. But you’re all here for him. So this is my very detailed yet not-so-reliable review about their moment together.

....

Stephen is so sweet, wtf.

First, he confesses that he lost a patient on the table, WHICH MEANS that Thompson is following the events of Surgeon Supreme. Honestly? It’s the first comic book to do so. But fine. I can live with that.

Man is not having a good day. In fact, it’s a terrible day, which probably justifies the end. Here we another glimpse that Stephen still can’t deal with loss. Life is so important to him precisely because he has lost so much. In addition, for a moment, he forgets that Carol isn’t supposed to be drinking. So he turns the whiskey into Seltzer. In the meantime, Carol can’t help but relate to him. I know, Carol, I’VE BEEN THERE.

There’s another moment that warmed my heart (in a sense because it’s quite sad when you think about it). Stephen asked Carol if he was bothering her. Do you have any idea how insecure Stephen is? BECAUSE HE IS. He’s always afraid of bothering people and that’s why he isolates himself. That’s why he’s always pushing people away. That’s why he’s so miserable and lonely.

Stephen is the sweetest, I can’t. He doesn’t even know his own favorite color. COME ON, STEPHEN.

I admit, though. They know how to flirt. Stephen is the kind of person who flirts through self-loathing, which is only natural given his mental health. And Carol... Well, she’s a girlboss. It’s perfect. Also he’s sassy. And do I love my sassy boi? Very much.

But here’s another sad thing. Stephen is not seen as a “good addiction”. He’s simply not the worse one. And he’s aware of that. Do you know how I know? I mean, despite all the countless articles I wrote about his self-loathing?

Because of this:

Yet again Stephen is aware that he used someone else to fill his void. And yet again, he was used. I can’t remember the last time Stephen had a healthy relationship. In fact, I can. It was with Linda, the Night Nurse. And that was a loooong time ago. I can’t even begin to comprehend how lonely he feels. And how miserable he feels whenever he fails to create a solid bond. Not only romantic ones, but also platonic relationships and friendships as well. I want him to be happy, it’s not too much. So why am I on the verge of tears?

Fine. I dissected the issue panel by panel, such is my commitment. But how I truly feel about them? Before answering that...

Things to be considered

Hear me out. There’s a very famous forbidden OTP party in Secret Wars: Secret Love #1. I can’t remember the author of the post but here, on this very hellsite, they confirmed some of those OTPs were ships that Marvel would never allow to happen because they’re, well, LGBTQIA ships. Cherik? Yes. Stony? Yes. Kate Bishop and America Chavez? Yes. CarolJess? YES. It’s the closest we’ll ever get to Marvel’s main characters to be queer.

I’m quite open to shipping Stephen with any character. However, I cannot look away when I’ve always rooted for Carol to be an LGBTQIA character. So, much to my surprise, as I was checking the spoilers on the hopes that Jess and Carol would finally have a revelation... STEPHEN HAPPENED. Trust me, Carol stans, this was as much unexpected to me as it was to you.

Truth be told, as a Stephen stan, I get tons of hate, because people mostly know him for his Illuminati era and how patronizing he behaves sometimes. But this is the reason why I made this blog. I want more people to know Stephen as deeply as I do. I know it’s frustrating. But I’m not the enemy. You have no idea how hard I try to find subtle words and clues that Stephen is not straight (because he isn’t, please).

So, after all is said and done... I still think they’re cute. And please, do not hand me down a guilty verdict yet.

I think of Stephen a lot on a daily basis, so it’s only natural to headcanon which heroes he has hooked up with throughout the years. And I swear to Vishanti, Carol crossed my mind a few times. I only figured it would never happen. But it did and now I don’t know what I’m supposed to feel. But it’s okay. Because it’s not going to last - and I’ll explain why.

The future

Despite the fact that CarolJess should be a thing™, when it comes to canon, she’s deeply connected to Rhodes. Their relationship is so important to Carol that she sacrificed it out of love. She’s mourning. There’s this feeling of emptiness in her heart, pretty much similar to what Stephen experienced when Clea left him the first time.

They’ve met in a very delicate and frail state of mind and spirit. Some (most?) people do it, as an attempt to fill the void with anything or anyone that resembles affection. They’re aware of that.

That’s why I don’t think it will last. It’s not a relationship born through mutual growth, it’s a relationship born in mourning and sorrow.

You know me, mates. I’d do anything for Stephen’s happiness. But that’s not it. His happiness lies on a powerful sorceress from the Dark Dimension. You know her name. And Carol? Well, if not on Jess because Marvel desires to keep selling comic books to homophobes, then on Rhodes.

It feels just like my hook up list headcanon, only better because there’s angst. And boi, do I love angst?

That said... We have more issues coming, in addition to that beautiful cover for #29. Let’s wait and see. I do think Carol and Stephen share an angsty a beautiful background and that’s why I’d rather have them instead of Elektra. No offense, Elektra and Stephen are HOT. But I believe Carol and Stephen offer deeper layers. And this is why I made such a long post about them and didn’t do the same to Savage Avengers. No matter how hard I try to be rational, when it comes to Stephen, it’s just stronger than me.

PS: forgive me if I missed something, I’m truly exhausted but my mind wouldn’t allow me to rest until I made this post. Thank you for your support.

[ukcyo]

sehnsucht.

❦ summary ; as all of you wait to reach your destination, reiner and you are entangled in each other’s arms. there isn't any other place you'd feel at home than here, lying next to him.

➳ pairing ; reiner braun x reader

➳ genre ; angst, hurt/comfort, tinge of fluff

➳ warnings ; spoilers for chapter 129 and beyond, mentions of death

Slumber was meant for serenity and comfort, a brief escape from the disappointing (in your case—devastating) fact that was reality. Yet, this world remains as cruel and sadistic as ever, placing you into the realm of nightmares in order to prohibit you from even enjoying an ounce of rest.

Seeing the sea painted red, millions of lifeless bodies floating aimlessly, was enough to blast you awake.

Cold sweat overtakes you as your chest heaves rapidly, the horror of what you saw still vividly fresh in your mind. It makes you reel, eyes moving frantically as you remain unaware if this was reality or not, your heart pounding so hard it was as if it was going to explode.

But as soon as your eyes land on the man lying next to you, arm protectively wrapped around your waist, your body immediately relaxes.

Reiner’s eyes are shut close, his lips slightly parted as small huffs of breath consistently escape from between them. His expression was peaceful, which was something that greatly contrasted the sorrow and desolation that was frequent on his features from the moment you finally saw him after four years. You can’t help but feel a bit of joy and relief at noticing this, for it had been a while since you’ve seen him so serene and calm, as if the arduousness of life had failed to penetrate him. Seeing him like this was enough to tell you that what you saw was just a nightmare.

Seconds later, however, he begins to stir, eyes slowly opening to reveal their gleaming hazel color. You must have woken him up due to your rustling.

Reiner’s eyes immediately fall onto you, haziness still deeply laced into them due to the fact that he was still half-asleep. Your heart leaps when you feel his hand softly rub circles into your waist, the gesture bringing great comfort to you. Instinctively, you turn your body towards him, wanting to feel this as long as possible. His warmth and affection was the only thing keeping you together at the moment. It was the only thing preventing you from thinking just how plausible your nightmare was.

Yet, as soon as you do this, Reiner’s hands gently clutch your cheeks, tilting your head upwards. His eyebrows are furrowed in immense concern, the sleepiness present in his eyes now all gone.

“What’s wrong? You’re shaking...”

Curse his perceptiveness. 

And curse you for not noticing that you were still deeply bothered.

“I...It’s nothing,” you reassure quietly, hoping to everything that your voice doesn’t betray you. You close your eyes as you rest the weight of your face on the hands that continued to caress your cheeks, focusing on completely calming yourself by the utter warmth and care emitted by them. Reiner’s hands were calloused and rigid, most likely stemming from all the strain and battles they were subjugated to. But despite that, they managed to make you feel like you are right where you belong.

“I’m sorry for waking you up,” you followed up, guilty over your actions. He was probably really tired and that brief sleep would have helped him a lot, “I know how exhausted and worn out you are.”

He feels a pang of shame from your apology. Even back then, during your training days and well into joining the Survey Corps, you had always managed to look through him like transparent glass. Despite how well Reiner acted as an older brother, carefully crafting his persona, you knew it was all an act. You knew how tired he got, how much he often wanted to break down and cry from both the hidden guilt and stress that came from the crimes in pursuit of completing their mission. And each time you noticed, you were there to comfort him. You always looked out for him, for his wellbeing, and always put his needs above yourself. Before he knew it, he was always crying to you about how tired he was, how he didn’t realize how difficult this all really was. Even if you didn’t know what he was really talking about, you never failed to listen, giving him the advice that allowed him to continue moving forward.

You were a savior, someone who always managed to give him a brief taste of solace. He grew intoxicated and soon, he wasn’t only falling in love with the way you gave him brief peace. He fell in love with your voice, the way your cheeks would rise when you threw a solid, ecstatic grin towards his way, how your eyes twinkled under the moonlight--he fell in love with you and the way you made him feel. It blinded and cursed him, because his love for you further tore him in half. And through this all, through all the conflict and inner turmoil, he never even thought of what you were going through.

And yet, four years later, during the end of the world, as both of you lay on this bed, entangled in each other’s arms, your cheeks snuggly resting against the palm of his hand, you never changed. Even after feeling the rapid rate of your heartbeat, your body shaking in fright, you still put him first. You thought about his wellbeing instead of your own.

How selfish and undeserving he was.

“[y/n] please... Please don't do that, I want you to tell me what's wrong," he pleads, tears already accumulating in his eyes, "You always think about how I feel, but you never think about your own."

You stiffen as you open your eyes to stare at Reiner in shock. Your heart sinks as you once more see guilt and self-loathe painted across his features, his staple expressions. The past four years that you shared away from each other has truly scarred and battered him in such a ghastly manner.

You clasp his hands that continue to tenderly encage your cheeks.

"I'm alright, I promise. It was just some stupid nightmare," you reassure with a tranquilizing tone. Yet, even after saying so, you can still clearly see the despondency in his expression. You can see the poison of diffidence littered all over his eyes, the tears that were still crumpled around their rims only further magnifying it.

He was suffering so much.

"You still don't believe me," you admit sadly, eyes downcast to prevent yourself from also tearing up, "Reiner, I know I already told you this but I'm much more selfish than you give me credit for. Even back then, I... A major reason onto why I was always there to comfort you was because it made me feel important, that my life was more than just constant danger. I wanted to keep that to myself, to keep you to myself. I never even once suggested you try telling the others about what you were feeling, because I wanted you to continue to look at me like I was the only light of your life. Because everytime you looked at me like that... I feel like the future is brighter than it seems to be."

His eyes widen as you bite your lip in pure, utter shame. Admitting this part of yourself burned you much more than you thought it would.

"I love you, Reiner, and I always will. That's why I always prioritize you and your feelings. That's why I could never completely hate you after you betrayed us all those years ago, no matter how much I should've," you confess breathlessly, "But to say that I do so selflessly is a lie in itself. I'm not that good of a person, and I honestly think none of us are. This cruel world makes sure of that."

You finally have the courage to look at him again, telling yourself that you'll accept the hurt and betrayed expression that will be present on his face. After all, you just shattered the idealized perception he had of you.

To your surprise, you were met with a genuinely delighted smile instead.

It was as if something heavy was lifted off of Reiner's chest after hearing you tell him all of those hidden thoughts. He feels extremely light, the exquisite taste of euphoria that he hasn't felt in such a while being so vividly present on his tongue.

You didn't love him out of pity. You love him because his presence gives you joy and satisfaction.

"Thank you. I'm... I'm so happy."

You're speechless, completely caught off guard from this unexpected reaction.

"Wh- I don't understand," you stammer, thoughts in disarray, "I just admitted to you that I-"

"You love me," Reiner reiterates with a much more cheerful tone than usual, "You love me because of who I am and how I make you feel. You don't love me because you think I need it."

You realize the reason behind his ecstatic reaction with your confession. Seeing Reiner so undeniably happy also made you feel similar sentiments, but the fact that he thought of your love in such a completely different way also planted a small seed of disappointment.

Your hand leaves his hand to caress his cheek instead, the small hairs that formed his goatee slightly tickling your palm.

"I never thought of you as a charity case," you whispered with a tone that sounded more pained than you intended, "I didn't fall in love with you because of your pain. I would hate myself if I did."

His tears finally spills over, its path down his cheeks being cut short by your hand.

If only things were different. If only they didn't turn out this way. He would've--

"I wish I married you beforehand," Reiner admits, "That way, when I end up dying from trying to save the world now, I wouldn't have any regrets. Because half of me would have continued living in you."

There it was. The toxic substance of lamentation. You felt the same, having the same thoughts over and over again for the time after learning of the truth behind the walls and what Reiner and the others had to go through. What if, if only, if only you didn't do this, what if you did that. It was a never ending cycle of pain, grief, and hurt that damaged you beyond mention. But as time passed, so did those emotions, and you found yourself accepting that the damage had been done. All you can do now is move on with the present and do better.

Reiner had never broken out of that cycle and you'd be damn to let him continue being in it.

"How do you know you will die," you question, "It's not like it's set in stone. We can still do it, we can still get married after all of this is over. All you have to do is survive. You have to fight to live as much as you can. I know I will, for you."

He gasps in surprise before his expression softens after internalizing your words. The Warrior was finding himself getting lost and intoxicated in the look of hope and adoration in your eyes, just like he did back then. You are a drug that attaches to him like glue and he will always embrace it full-heartedly.

"So let's survive for each other. Let's survive for a future we both deserve."

Reiner couldn't even bear to fathom what kind of emotions surged through him when the most heavenly smile etched across your lips after saying those words of promise. He felt like he was basking in the presence of a goddess, because it was almost impossible someone like you are real. Someone as ethereal and lovely as you can't possibly exist on this Earth. Yet here you are, hand wrapped around his cheek, saying you'll survive so you can still marry him.

"Can I kiss you," he timidly requests, voice barely above a whisper. He wanted more of your touch, your essence to envelop him whole, but a part of him still feels so unworthy of it.

A small, disbelieving chuckle escapes from you. You thought he would never ask.

"Please."

In an instant, Reiner guides your head closer to his until his lips finally meets yours. His lips were still as soft as they were four years ago, the sweetness and elation they provided you filled up the crevices of your soul. There was nothing on this earth that can defeat the way Reiner's lips felt against yours. There was no force that can match the passion and fervor that was present in the way his lips moved against yours, the action itself telling you just how vast his love for you was.

As exhilarating kissing Reiner was, you were more ecstatic over what this kiss meant to both of you. It was his promise, his promise to you that he will do his best to survive. The way that both of you are in a current liplock, joined as one, demonstrated his vow to make it out of this alive in order to join both of your lives together in marriage.

You wish this would never end.

You wish time wasn't so inevitable.

Reiner slowly parts from you after a while, his eyes looking at each and every feature on your face. He engraves the way you look right now in his mind, the memory of it already being one of his most treasured.

His thumb gently scrapes away at your cheekbones, as if to take something away. You didn't realize that you were crying.

"I will love you even after death. But you're right, I don't have to die so soon," Reiner confesses with sincerity, before returning to wrap his arms around your form once more. He flushes you against his chest as he places a loving kiss on the top of your head.

"I promise you. We'll both survive."

hellooo !! this is my very fic/ one-shot made on this site :'^ i hope you enjoy it as much as it was both fun and hurt to write lol

i'm still trying to navigate through tumblr and how to use it so i hope you bear with me !! thank you once again <33

[myonepiece]

Okay so here's a fun idea for a songfic! Can I have a songfic with Kid with a ex-gf who's in a punk band (she was originally part of the crew but left it after a rough ending of their relationship), the crew hears about a concert on the island they're stopping at. Kid wants to go just to kind of laugh but when they go, he's kind of in shock at their progression.

She spots them in the crowd, focusing on Kid before whipping out either Black Sheep by Metric or Everything Back But You by Avril Lavgne. I know not true punky songs but they fit well enough lol

Maybe end it where they kind of make up?

Omg yess I love sad love ;-;

But You

A Eustass Kid Scenario

•~•~•~•~

Kid’s days had melted together, and eventually so did his weeks and so did the momths. It was all just a blur of violence, looting, drinking, and a painful grip on his heart. He thought about that day everynight, he would drink to forget but when he lay in bed piss drunk the only thing he could think about was the sight of you in another man’s arms and the look of horror on your face as he was shot in the head by an “unknown” attacker.

Flashback

You sat in an old rundown inn, your mind clouded with the alcohol you had tried to drown yourself in. The post card hanging from your hand by the tips of your cold fingers.

You should leave, I’ve had my fun but it’s time to be serious

I want you to be her

I’ll be in my workshop late tonight

I expect you to be gone by the time I’m back

The mangled postcard smelled of cheap perfume, but you were too focused on the words to put much thought to that. He must’ve been with her when he wrote it, her perfume wearing off on the paper. You had caught her clinging on to him, and in a fit of rage and jealousy you had ran to another man and betrayed the trust you had built with Kid.

You had blacked out after a few rounds of hard liquor and a gunshot through the head of the man in front of you splattering blood across your face. When you awoke you were laying in the bed of a dirty inn, and the Victoria Punk was gone, the only thing left was a postcard signed with the captain’s name.

End of flashback

You were sitting in the kitchen of your ship, eating with your band/crew, conversing over the show you were playing tomorrow night followed by a break for a few days. You’re punk music career had been keeping you busy for the past two months, and you were trying enjoying yourself when you played with them.

Still, late at night when the alcohol wore off, it brought you to a state of mind with terrified you, bringing back every single memory of your previous voyages with your ex captain. You would allow yourself to wallow in self pity until the next day, when you would return to your punk and fiery personality that was so well known across the seas.

Kid rested his chin in the palm of his hand as he stared at the poster Killer had handed him, portraying a picture of the punk band that held a reputation despite not being a big pirate or anything similar. He stared at the bright smile that haunted his dreams, his nightmares, and his every waking thought. The smile he loved but despised more than anything.

There was nothing he desired more than to have you back. Killer had explained what was likely going through your mind at the sight of the whore clinging to him. She was simply a lowlife wannabe pirate princess who held no importance in his life whatsoever. He had killed her for ruining his love, but it was too late to mend what he had done for you had already fled the island, ripping part of him away with you. So with one more swig of beer, he set course for your show.

Arriving at the start of your second song, the Kid pirates walked into the cheering crowd that surrounded your stage. Kid’s breath caught in his throat as he stared longingly at the angel he had lost months ago, the way your leather clothes hugged your curves and your hair swaying lit up by the lights, intoxicated him beyond rational thoughts. He stared frozen in place.

As the crowd roared with cheers, you grinned at the wave of fans that made everyday happier. But all color drained from your face as your eyes met the red head’s. Even from far away shrouded in darkness you recognized his fur coat and bright red hair that you had come to loathe. Your heart’s beat drowned out the cheers of the crowd as your head swam with emotions that you had shoved down and drowned in whiskey for the past two months. With your brain clouded over and a surge of impulsiveness, you turned and instructed your band to play your song. The crowd quieted down and your band struck up the tune, you kept your eyes glued to Kid’s which had never once left yours.

Two months away from you but I couldn’t tell,

I thought that everything was gonna be fine

The postcard that you wrote

With that stupid little note

Something wasn’t quite right about it

It smelled like cheap perfume

And it didn’t smell like you

Kid knew exactly what you were singing about, and it broke his heart to relive it from your point of view. He felt a sting in his eyes but was too wrapped up in your voice to do anything about it.

There is no way you can get around it

Because you wrote “I wish you were her”

But you left out the “e”

You left without me

And now you’re somewhere out there with a

Hey, Hey

Physco, babe I hate you

Why are guys so lame

Everything I gave you

I want everything back but you

Under the lights, you could’ve sworn you saw a glittering tear slide down Kid’s cheek and fall onto the fur of his coat.

My friends tried to tell me all along

That you weren’t the right one for me

As the music faded out and was replaced by cheers and hollers, you broke eye contact and swiftly walked off the stage- you had to get out of here. The crew quickly packed up the intrsuments and supplies, and you were the last to head down towards the docks. While walking on the path down to the docks, clitching your coat around you, footsteps appeared behind you. You already knew who it was, and you picked up your pace. As the footsteps picked up pace too you started running down the path.

“Y/N!!” You tried to tune out his desperate pleas, but a hand reached out and firmly wrapped around your wrist holding you back.

“Turn around Y/N. Why are you running from me?” Kid’s voice was quiet ending the question. He sounded like a lost child, not the captain of one of the most feared pirate crews.

Slowly your straighten up and turn around facing your ex lover. He has tears brimming your eyes, something you never thought you’d see. It makes your own eyes tear up as you stand in silence just taking in the sight of each other. He looks like a mess to be honest, you can make out the dark eye bags and the small stubble on his chin. You have to say a small part of you likes seeing himself ins such bad shape over little old you.

“What do you want Kid, I have a boat to catch” you talk to him coldly, feeling slight guilt as he had been talking so softly to you.

“I just want you back angel”

“You left me, why do you want me back? What about your other whore” you see Kid wince at your harsh words and unwavering icy stare.

“She was some lowsy wannabe, I was trying to get her off, I would never jeopardize what we have”

“Had, what we had”

“It’s not gone Y/N, is it?” It wasn’t, as much as you hated Kid for leaving you alone, you couldn’t deny that your love for him still burned in your chest. Tears now streamed down your face as you hardened your glare.

“It’s gone Kid. Everything is gone”

“You know I didn’t do anything with that girl, so what did I do” It’s true that you know he didn’t do anything with the girl, because you had heard of her gruesome death by Kid’s hand, abs the fact that Kid had rented an Inn room and layed you in the bed meant he still cared for you when he left you. But that’s what he did, he left you all alone.

“You left me... YOU LEFT ME ALONE!” Your sadness turned to anger as you thought of all the things you had done for him only to be cast aside and left so easily. You stepped closer to him still scolding him-

“AFTER EVERYTHING WE’VE BEEN GHROUGH YOU THREW ME ASIDE SO EASILY! AND IT HURT KID, YOU HURT ME!” You stood directly in front of Kid now, you landed a hit against his broad chest. As your sobs became stronger so did your hits.

“I HATE YOU EUSTASS KID” You cried out at you landed your final punch and felt your legs begin to give. Before you could fall, Kid grabbed your shoulders tightly,

“I’m so sorry Y/N, I love you more than anything and I’ll do anything to get you back. You think leaving you didn’t hurt me? It hurt coming back to get you and finding out you already left!” Kid raised his voice as his anger came bubbling to the surface.

“I’m not supposed to feel like this Y/N this is weakness and pirates aren’t supposed to have that! Dont you get it?! YOU’RE MY WEAKNESS AND I WANT YOU BACK!” You tried to squirm away but Kid pulled you harshly into his chest and held you there.

“Please come back, let’s forget this ever happened. I’m not leaving you ever again angel” Kid whispered into your hair. He sounded genuine, and you could feel your hard self control wearing thin. You inhaled the familiar scent of Kid, and with your sigh you caved and grabbed onto his coat pulling him closer to you. You felt him let out a shaky sigh and he pulled you closer and softened his embrace. That night he held you closer and tighter than he ever had, he showed his full vulnerability to you and he was scared that you would use it against him. But he realized he didn’t have to be afraid of that because he would never give you a reason to leave him ever again, because the only thing he can hold onto, is you.

[seanfalco]

To Hurt | Nathan Young x Reader

Wrote this sometime last year when I was having a bad night, but then talked myself out of posting it. Went back to it tonight bc I’m back in the same place and finished it. Figured maybe it might help someone else feel better too.

A vent piece in a similar vein as Comfort.

word count: 1.1k

warning(s): language, depictions of self harm

You wanted to hurt.

You wanted to hurt as badly on the outside as you did inside. That thought hadn’t surfaced in a long while, not since you’d left your stepmum’s, so the fact that it did now scared you.

It scared you a lot.

But It would be so easy. Hurting yourself. You’d done it before, many times, in so many different ways.

Jumping up, you balled your hand into a fist as you faced the bedroom wall and punched as hard as you could.

It only took a moment of anger, a moment of frustration and it was over... but the pain that traveled up your arm seemed to shock you awake.

Oh, it hurt worse than you’d thought.

Already your hand was beginning to swell, throbbing hard enough to bring fresh tears to your eyes and you shook your hand, a choked sob escaping your lips. Shit, did you break it? You couldn’t move your fingers.

“[y/n]? Th’fuck was that noise?” Nathan’s voice called from the other room and you just stood there, pressing your back to the wall and sliding to the ground. The apartment was small, you knew he’d find you soon.

How were you supposed to explain this?

Raising your eyes you stared at the crack in the wall where your fist had just made contact. You were probably gunna lose your safety deposit for that.

“[y/n]? Oh, Jesus!” Nathan exclaimed as his eyes went from the hole in the wall to the steadily darkening black and purple bruises covering your knuckles. Crouching in front of you he winced as he took your hand to get a closer look before his eyes flicked back to your tear stained face, your makeup no doubt a mess.

“What happened?” he asked, though it was pretty clear what happened.

With a sniffle, you shrugged halfheartedly, unable to quite make your voice work. When you didn’t answer, merely averting your eyes ashamedly, Nathan let out a long breath.

“I’ll get some ice,” he muttered, leaving you with your guilt, the empty pit inside you threatening to swallow you whole. He was only gone a minute, back with a baggie of ice and a towel and you couldn’t stomach the worry lurking behind his green eyes as he wrapped the towel round your hand, to hold the ice bag in place.

Pressing his back against the wall next to you, he drew his knees up to his chest and you felt his hand brush your non injured one. Letting him thread his fingers with yours you felt another wave of self loathing coming and you almost wrenched your hand away, instead squeezing his fingers hard, desperately holding onto him.

“Why’d you do that?” Nathan asked, watching you from the corner of his eye, his head pressed back against the wall as he worried his lip with his teeth.

“I wanted to hurt,” you murmured softly. “We don’t all get blackout drunk when we hate ourselves.”

At your words, Nathan grimaced and you felt shame wash through you, a stray tear falling down your cheek. “I’m sorry…” you muttered, shaking your head, sniffling thickly. “Are y’mad about the wall?”

Nathan turned to gape at you incredulously. “No! God, no! Fuck th’wall, who cares bout that? We’ll hang a poster or somethin’ over it. I’m worried bout you. I’ve never seen yeh like this before,” he exclaimed, shakily.

“Don’t you ever just feel like you’re not good enough?” you whispered, your voice cracking.

Silence stretched and Nathan nodded, leaning against you. “Are y’kiddin’? I always feel that way.” He swallowed and turned to face you. “But you… you’re the best damn thing t’ever happen t’me, and I think you’re better than good enough. I wouldn’t trade you for all the money or--or booze, or blowjobs in th’world! I’m serious!” he exclaimed, picking up speed. “An, y’know how much I love all those things.”

For a moment you nearly cracked a smile, but Nathan caught it.

“Next time you feel like this, tell me an’ I’ll distract you. Or we’ll go out an’ break something or vandalize something instead. Fuck, we could even steal your stepsister’s car again and crash it, just for th’hell of it. But yeh don’t hafta do this alone. That’s why I’m here, yeah?”

Oh no, you thought, here come the fuckin’ waterworks, but Nathan was quick to pull you into his lap, and he didn’t care if you got his shirt wet from crying against his chest. He merely began to murmur all his favourite things about you into your ear, each thing cheesier than the last til he got you to finally laugh, even if it was a watery one.

“There, see,” he murmured looking rather proud of himself, “I’ll earn my keep yet.”

“Thank you,” you managed to sniffle and Nathan wiped the last few stray tears from your cheeks before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“‘Course, like I said, that’s what I’m here for, love.”

Flexing your hand, you grimaced at the sting, pulling the ice bag from it. At least you could move it; it seemed less likely that it was broken now.

“What am I s’posed t’tell people bout this? It’s not exactly… subtle,” you sighed, already regretting your actions and Nathan grinned slightly.

“We’ll tell em… you got in a fistfight with a mugger and that you won.”

Though you looked skeptical you felt somewhat lighter, buoyed by Nathan’s easy grin and his jokes.

“C’mon, I think its time for a proper snuggle,” he exclaimed and you didn’t argue, letting him carry you to the bed before folding you into his arms.

“I meant it when I said you’re th’best thing t’ever happen t’me, y’know?” he murmured, taking your face between his hands. “I don’t wanna lose you... you know what I mean?” he asked, giving you a pointed look, as if saying it aloud might make it happen and once more white hot shame washed through you.

“I know, I’m sorry,” you whispered, clutching at his shirt with your good hand.

“Please don’t do that again?” he insisted, his eyes seeking yours, all trace of amusement gone, and you nodded.

“I won’t, I promise.”

Hearing the sincerity in your voice, Nathan seemed to relax, pressing his lips to your forehead before tilting your chin up to kiss your lips.

“Good, cause I don’t think the wall’ll hold up if you hit it again. You’re too strong,” he teased. “It’s be like kapow! and then turn into rubble or somethin’, and then we’d hafta share one big open flat with th’neighbors, and I don’t know about you [y/n], but I don’t think I’d like that. There goes all our privacy!”

When he got you to laugh, really laugh, a proud smile stole across his face, his expression lighting up hopefully as he watched you.

“Hey Nathan,” you murmured, as your giggles finally died down.

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

[writingandmore]

Hi!!! May I get a HP, Star Wars, Voltron, and Disney matchup?

𝗕𝗔𝗦𝗜𝗖𝗦 + 𝗔𝗣𝗣𝗘𝗔𝗥𝗔𝗡𝗖𝗘

19, Libra, Neutral Good, enneagram is 4w5, muggleborn Ravenclaw (with Gryffindor tendencies), and my patronus spirit is Hummingbird. Biromantic Pansexual Genderfluid woman using pronouns of She/Her or He/Him. Cherubic-like face, with short height (5'1") plus sized Southeast Asian woman with Spanish descent that has chic messy/wavy brunette medium hair that reaches to my shoulder, oriental skin, slightly upturned eyes, small lashes, chocolate brown irises, cute flat nose, heart shaped face, full cheeks, cupid's bow lips, a small beauty mark on the forehead, and naturally straight teeth with tiny gap in front (just imagine that it's a mixture of Marinette from 𝗠𝗶𝗿𝗮𝗰𝘂𝗹𝗼𝘂𝘀 𝗟𝗮𝗱𝘆𝗯𝘂𝗴, Musa from 𝗪𝗶𝗻𝘅 𝗖𝗹𝘂𝗯, and Alexandra Trese from 𝗧𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲---cause' my friend told me that I kinda look like them). My sense of fashion is in between emo and boyish plus korean glam, I sometimes let my hair down or styled like Lara Croft reboot.

𝗣𝗘𝗥𝗦𝗢𝗡𝗔𝗟𝗜𝗧𝗬

Distant, quiet, and timid at first making people thought I'm a demure, modest, and self-effacing that looks "immaculate" or "one of a kind" (due to my protective mom, a reason why I've never been in a relationship) but the truth is, dunno how to initiate a conversation, but a total opposite if I open up---friendly, ambivert, witty, laughing loudly on a daily basis---like my happiness is too shallow, super talkative, eats a lot (yeah I can finish a huge slice of cake or a meal in one sitting), awkward, daydreamer (I got embarrassed from knocking at the door even I'm inside the classroom 😂), EXTREMELY CLUMSY (mostly gets bruises from hitting, bumping my head somewhere, walking into something on my way, and being careless to my belongings), secretly likes affection, easily overwhelmed, prone to melt over wholesomeness, flusters on compliments, lightly blushes on cheesy banters, eager to share what I know (especially about Catholic Church---my past teacher joked that I'll become a saint because of it 🤣), oftenly speaks full of sarcasm with a lowkey crackhead energy citing meme references, and talented girl who can be your no.1 supporter and unashamed to be true to myself but can be awkward to strangers. In terms of leadership, I only educate and guide than being a prefect (I might take the role seriously), will lift my group when there's lacking/incompleteness. About doing projects in school, I become too extra and prepared for efforts, but I'll forget the process in the end.

The extent, I'm expressive, warm-hearted, willig to help, kind, intelligent, supportive, nice, creative, enthusiastic, laid-back, determined, tough, competitive, and feisty outside, but a real softie that can be childish and dramatic that cries so easily (but will enlightened real quick by smallest things that makes me smile) filled with doubts, frustrations, and insecurities with fear of failure that pushes off the limits to to please everyone because they might get dissappointed from expectations---I simply can't stop proving myself too much because I'm a survivor of bullying. But I still managed to be stronger than ever after I stumbled, even it's a slow burn process. I can be blunt, intimidating, harsh, and a douchebag if I receive ends or I got interrupted while doing something. Immature, headstrong, perfectionist, demanding, hesitant, jumpy, forgetful, overthinker, quick-tempered, sensitive, and anxious (no joke, my nervousness makes me think worse scenario will arrive). Though can be procrastinator and arrogant, I raised as a religious 𝖺𝗇𝖽 diplomatic youth, willing to fight what I believe (including my dreams and what's important to me) and what is right. In addition, I have a habit of staying up late and doing sign of the cross to ease nervousness.

Rowdy and feeling-brokenhearted and bitter friend in the group who fangirl a lot, swears like sailor, will call out on people that we loathe, will make fun of your stupidity (in a good way) before helping, and bring gossips, but a hopeless romantic and cheeky (makes banter with sarcasms or pick up lines as an endearment, but gets annoyed if I received sappy or offensive one), Still generous and concerned person in a subtle and different way.

𝗛𝗢𝗕𝗕𝗜𝗘𝗦

My hobbies are singing, drawing, roleplaying, listening to music, chatting/browsing on social media, conceptualizing, writing, and reading some stuffs. I'll include making corniest jokes/puns, sleeping, and dancing when nobody's around or walking like a model if I feel so bold (even I'm terrible at both xD). I also used to learn Italian language a bit.

𝗟𝗜𝗞𝗘𝗦

Loves kittens, milk tea, singing at the karaoke, cartoons, iced coffee, memes, cute things, watching YouTube videos (mostly pageants, ASMR, edit audios, and mukbangs), also enjoys playing games on my sister's PSP. Sucker for arts, choir, poetry, night sky, makeup, fun/deep/dumb conversations, Christianity, documentaries (about saints, real crime stories, and inspirational people), reading interesting stuffs, talking about social issues, and creative writing, chilling both indoors and outdoors. Beside that, my music taste are like late 90s-2000s songs (mostly rock, pop, and country) sometimes Catholic songs, kpop and ppop, chocoholic, and a sweetooth as well.

𝗗𝗜𝗦𝗟𝗜𝗞𝗘𝗦

Things that I hate are stereotyping, HUGE creepy crawlies (spiders, toads, snakes, and cockroaches), firecracker sounds, thunder and lightning, being left out, loneliness, heart break, blackout, and judgemental people. If I found out that someone hates or backstabbing or being rude to me, I won't hesitate to throw offensive criticisms, leaving them with a "I don't give a f" attitude. One random fact about me is, I 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 vent out EVERYTHING I despise in my entire existence---from bad soap operas to toxicity, worse scenarios in real life, and how terrible is my love life from unrequited feelings that I got, because it's a big deal for me, and I consider forcing me to do what I'm not into and manipulating me as my major pet peeves.

𝗧𝗥𝗜𝗚𝗚𝗘𝗥𝗦

In terms of triggers...I only have two which are ta𝖨king about divorce/annullment/separation because I came from a generational broken family (it sucks that some people I knew assumed that the reason why I'm overly unaware that someone is interested in me in secret, is I have "high standards" looking for a partner, but the truth is I'm strict and I have a personal preferences...I know my worth and I don't want settle for less!) and religion/beliefs discrimination, cause' there are reasonings that doesn't makes sense because some, sounds too hypocritical, like as if you're a morally good person.

𝗥𝗢𝗠𝗔𝗡𝗖𝗘 + 𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗘 𝗟𝗔𝗡𝗚𝗨𝗔𝗚𝗘𝗦

My love languages are quality time and gift giving, but I actually swoon over physical touch (especially cuddles and cute kisses) and words of affirmation when it comes to having a partner, though I get attracted so easily, matured but can be a goofy person who's nice, friendly, kind-hearted, loving, faithful, and excels in academics is my cup of tea. Whenever I have a real life crush (which is rare), I act the same but deep inside, my heart is about to explode and will eventually share to my trustful friends how I highly admire that person, however if they spilled the beans out, I'll obviously deny it and will cry if they like someone else, it will take some time for me to move on, now I don't care for them anymore.

Best Friends to Lovers is my ideal trope because I find it very cute since you already knew each other before dating (which happened to my 2nd cousin, she married her best friend!)---perfect balance for romance, laughters, comfort, and tears when it comes to sharing your vibes, being there through thick and thin, safe with embraces, and helping each other to grow.

𝗧𝗥𝗜𝗩𝗜𝗔𝗦

My best assets are smile, eyes, personality, singing voice, artistic skills, writings, intelligence, oratorical skills and I have potential in hosting...so I can consider myself as a singer, artist, orator, speaker, and a top student who's a former active campus ministry member with three roles (choir leader, psalm singer, and reader).

May sounds different but I'm passionate for helping people through my talents and sharing my story to inspire everyone. I may look selfish, but I have a different way on how I show that I actually care also I have a biased sentimental value

Currently a college freshman, learning how to cook. I have so many interests, to the point I don't know what I'm into because of my dreams to become a popular Filipino YouTuber, a novelist, and being part of a successful chorale competing internationally...I also consider joining pageants at school too once the pandemic ends, but maybe.

HP: Remus!

- Remus is also quiet and a bit reserved when he's not in a familiar situation, so your own first impression on him would be a good one, as you'd seem similar to his own personality. He's sweet and is able to start up a conversation if he notices the other person is having a hard time doing so, so hopefully he'd be able to bring out your more extroverted and friendly self after a while so he can be around the more open you. He wouldn't mind you being a bit awkward-he's very much the same way-honestly, the comradery that would come from that would be more positive than anything else. He loves sharing knowledge and learning about new things, so your eagerness to talk about what you know would work really well also! He does a lot better when he knows someone has his back too, so your extra supportive nature would endear him to you as well.

SW: Han!

- Your nicer and more helpful personality would balance out Han's more standoffish vibes when first meeting. You might get on his nerves a bit first, but you'd quickly grown on him and, in turn, make him a bit of a better person. Your ability to be blunt and a bit harsh would serve you well if you ever needed to stand your ground on an issue that two of you have, as he can be quite stubborn.

VLD: Lance!

- Lance can be a bit immature from time to time as well, especially when it comes to trying to be funny or cheering up those around him-he's also headstrong and typically firm in what he wants to do, so your own determined personality would attract him to you a lot as well. He often puts off things he needs to do if they make him anxious too, but if you both recognize that you share that problem, helping each other might be a good solution!

Disney: Flynn!

- Flynn is quite a sarcastic and teasing person, so your own humor would match well with his. He's also quite a hopeless romantic as well, even though he's certainly not one to admit that right off the bat. He enjoys singing, and as he gets closer to someone he feels more comfortable doing so in front of them, so a partner he's been with for a long time would get to see him be more and more open with it. That also applies to activities like dancing.

[when-a-humble-bard]

what my heart just yearns to say

Word Count: 5575

summary: Jaskier’s a romantic at heart. So you would think he falls in love at first sight. But... when he falls in love with Geralt, he falls very, very slowly. Or, ten moments where Jaskier falls a little bit more in love with the Witcher, until he's really not sure when it started in the first place.

Warnings: hurt/comfort, fluff, injuries, vomiting, mentions of death, nonconsenual almost-groping by a patron, shipping lens on a canon scene, near-drowning, cursing (of course), first kisses, feelings confessions, Jaskier yearns so much oof

A/N: In which I continue to be amazed by the other creators in this fandom, inspired by them, and also wanted to further explore these two. I hope you enjoy it! A companion piece is in the planning stages already... Heh. Edited by yours truly, so all mistakes are mine.

Read on AO3

...

I.

“They said it’s a water nymph?” Jaskier asks the Witcher one evening.

A fire crackles in front of them, sparks shooting up into the night sky. Stars peek between the breaks in the forest canopy above them. Geralt glances at the bard, then sighs and turns his attention back to the fire.

“That’s what they said.”

“But you don’t buy it,” Jaskier says. It’s not really a question. He can tell from Geralt’s tone.

Geralt’s lips press into a thin line. “Rusalki and some bruxae share a number of similarities in terms of appearance. The rusalki they described has pale skin and dark hair.”

Jaskier’s fingers twitch with the sudden desire to grab his notebook. “And… rusalki don’t look like that?”

“They can,” Geralt replies, glancing at him, “but so can bruxae. They also have similar tastes in prey.”

Jaskier purses his lips as he remembers what the townspeople had told them. “Men.”

Geralt nods. “Which is why you’re going to stay here with Roach tomorrow.”

Jaskier glances over towards the horse grazing a few yards away, then looks back at the Witcher. “So what’s the difference?”

He doesn’t know if the question tumbles past his lips because he’s genuinely curious about the answer or because he just really likes hearing Geralt talk. The Witcher’s subdued cadence was stubbornly persistent. Often when Jaskier made a concerted effort to engage Geralt in conversation, his responses were brief, clipped, and straightforward. A staccato drum against Jaskier’s lilting melody.

But apparently, Geralt was a fountain of willing knowledge when it came to monsters. And Jaskier could listen to him for hours.

Geralt’s brow quirks in surprise at the question. “To start with, bruxae are of the vampire family. They lure men to their death so that they may feed on their blood. Rusalki are, usually, much more amenable. They lure men to them for procreation, and rarely intend death.”

Jaskier’s brow furrows. “Which is why you think it’s not rusalki. You think it’s a bruxa.”

“Hm.”

Jaskier feels something twinge in his chest. “How do you kill a bruxa?” He tears his gaze towards the fire as he feels Geralt glance at him.

“They’re susceptible to silver, like most monsters. Igni is also useful. Bruxa tend to hunt in packs, so its unusual that the villagers here have only seen one.”

“Have you fought them before?”

“Yes.”

“Are you nervous? About tomorrow?”

A pause. “No.”

Jaskier huffs and offers a faint, uncertain smile. “That makes one of us.”

“I told you you’re not coming with me.”

“Yes, but that’s quite beside the point, isn’t it?” Because Jaskier isn’t nervous about himself.

Geralt’s head snaps over to the bard in surprise. “Jaskier—”

Jaskier waves him off. “So tell me, dear Witcher,” he says, because he just wants to hear Geralt talk as much as he can tonight. “Why does silver work so well on monsters?”

 II.

Jaskier watches him. The early spring air tugs gently at the loose strands of his white hair. Birds twitter happily in the canopy above them. The stream nearby is still. Mid-morning sunlight filters through the leaves and branches, leaving a mosaic of light around them.

Geralt breathes.

Kneeling in a patch of grass with his hands resting on his thighs, the Witcher has his eyes closed and just… breathes. Jaskier watches the steady rise and fall of his chest. The way it expands with each inhale, the way the ever-present tension in Geralt’s shoulders eases just the slightest bit with each exhale.

Jaskier knows he’s not asleep. Sleeping and meditating are different things. But he thinks that Geralt actually looks more peaceful like this. Jaskier had spent many nights in the bedroll near the Witcher and knew all too well that when Geralt slept, it was usually fitfully. But when he meditates like this…

Geralt is still.

Jaskier can’t help but feel like he’s getting a rare glimpse at who Geralt was—is—beneath the layers and layers of training and mutations. He knew Geralt didn’t regret what he went through to become a Witcher. At least… not exactly. Can you regret something that wasn’t your choice to begin with? Had been his rhetorical response when Jaskier had been brave enough to ask him one evening. But the bard knew that no amount of trials and training could erase the parts of Geralt that was still—sometimes painfully—human. Geralt held within himself a carefully balanced dichotomy that seemed, at least to Jaskier, to be a storm built on regret and guilt and (in his darker moments) self-loathing.

But watching Geralt meditate—the steady breath, the perfect stillness—makes the bard wonder if the storm metaphor isn’t quite accurate. Because really, when Jaskier thinks about it, Geralt’s humanity is perhaps more like the coastal waves. Relentlessly returning to the shoreline no matter how many times it’s sent away.

Jaskier watches Geralt meditate and feels something tighten in his chest. He’d follow that tide to the end of the earth, he realizes. He’d call the waves back to shore for as long as Geralt would let him.

Geralt’s eyes blink open and Jaskier unapologetically meets his gaze.

He arcs his eyebrow. “Composing, Bard?”

Jaskier offers a small, sincere smile. “Something like that.”

 III.

“I’d rethink that move.”

If he’s being honest, Jaskier is almost as surprised as the patron when Geralt seems to materialize out of the crowd and grab the man’s wrist in a vice-like grip. The man’s other hand is still fisted possessively in the waistband of Jaskier’s trousers, uncomfortably close to his crotch.

“What,” the patron spits with a sneer full of rotting teeth, “unwilling to share your whore, Butcher?”

Jaskier grimaces. Butcher made his skin crawl, and he knows that Geralt didn’t take kindly to that term either. The bard had learned that very early, and very quickly.

Geralt growls low in his throat, his eyes flashing dangerously. “Call him that again and I’ll slit your throat.”

The threat makes Jaskier freeze instinctively. Call him that again… Him.

As in Jaskier.

The patron roughly lets go of the bard, who stumbles a step from the suddenness of the motion but still hasn’t taken his eyes off Geralt. In truth, Jaskier really hadn’t been particularly bothered by the term itself. He’d been called it before, and been called much worse than that several hundred times over. But Geralt took issue with it, evidently.

Geralt was defending him. He’d never had someone who’d done that before. Not even his own family.

“Not worth it,” the patron says gruffly. Geralt releases him with a shove to send him stumbling away from Jaskier. He staggers a few steps, muttering something under his breath. Jaskier doesn’t hear it clearly—something about his voice and screaming as pretty as he sings—but Geralt evidently does hear it, quite clearly. Something bright and furious ignites in his gold eyes.

“Geralt,” he says quickly but quietly. “Let it go. It’s fine.”

For a moment, the Witcher looks torn. Jaskier places a hand on his forearm, and Geralt levels a withering gaze on the other man. He rushes through the crowd and out the tavern. It’s not until the door closes behind him that Geralt turns his attention back to the bard. The hot anger in his eyes evaporates slowly into something that Jaskier almost wants to call… soft. His gaze flickers—quick and calculating—over Jaskier’s form. Looking for signs of injury.

Geralt’s gaze meets his again in a silent question. Jaskier offers a reassuring smile and slight nod in answer. I’m okay.

Geralt shakes his head, but Jaskier doesn’t think he’s imagining the tinge of relief under the veil of exasperation. “You really ought to learn some self-defense, Jaskier.”

Jaskier offers an affronted scoff. “I can defend myself perfectly fine, thank you very much.”

“Hmm.”

“I can! I’ll have you know, he is hardly the first over-enthusiastic fan I’ve dealt with.” Jaskier tries not to wince at the way Geralt’s expression darkens, and rushes of add, “And I’ve fended off unwanted advances just fine. He just happened to be particularly, ah, insistent.”

“Hm. And what happens when you can no longer talk your way out of such situations?”

Jaskier’s flippant smile wavers, then stays in place. “Are you offering to teach me, Geralt?” He’s mostly joking.

“Yes.” Geralt’s answer is immediate and unflinching. Jaskier tries not to think too long about why that sends a flutter through his stomach.

 IV.

The kitchen of the small house on the outskirts of the town has barely enough room for the three of them. Geralt, beside him, reeks of death and decay and monster guts. In front of them, the young boy—who couldn’t be older than 16 by Jaskier’s best guess—hoists his baby sister up further onto his hip.

“Truly, Witch—ah, Geralt?” At Geralt’s slight nod, the teen smiles. “Truly, Geralt. Thank you. I, um…” he trails off, turning to rifle through a drawer behind him. The middle sibling, a young boy of about six, runs around the corner and nearly barrels straights into the two of them in the entryway.

“Oi!” the teen snaps. “Slow down, will ya?”

“Sorry,” the younger boy mumbles, and then is off like a flash the moment Geralt takes a step to the left to let him through.

His brother watches him with a certain fond exasperation, even as embarrassment colors his cheeks. “Too much energy for his own good,” he says. Jaskier realizes then that he has a small pouch in the hand that isn’t supporting his baby sister’s weight. He extends it out to the Witcher. “It’s not much. Certainly not nearly enough for disposing of the monster that took our parents, but...”

Geralt shakes his head, making no move to take it. “No payment necessary.”

Jaskier glances at him and feels something unexpectedly soft warming in his chest.

“Please,” the teen says. “I insist.”

“Keep it.”

“My father taught me to never accept charity.”

Jaskier thinks of the empty cupboards around them in the kitchen and feels a small tug in his gut. He remembers all too well singing for literal scraps. Barely surviving. He knew desperate times. And he also knew that some people still ranked their pride higher. The bard figures he can’t really fault him for it, and besides, the poor kid had just lost the very father he’d spoken of. Grief did funny things to people.

Geralt stares at the boy for a long moment. Jaskier sees the tension work in his jaw before he holds a hand out and lets him deposit the coins into the outstretched palm. Twenty ducats fall from the piece of cloth.

“It’s all I have—” he begins apologetically.

“It’s plenty,” Geralt interrupts, folding his fingers over the paltry sum. It does not escape Jaskier’s attention that he doesn’t slip the coins into his own pouch.

The infant in the teen’s arms shifts and makes a distressed noise. “I… I should put her down for a nap, I think.”

Jaskier can hear the uncertainty in the boy’s voice and offers an encouraging smile. “We’ll see ourselves out. I’m sure a bit of rest is exactly what she needs. As a matter of fact, I could use a nap myself.”

Geralt rolls his eyes, but Jaskier sees the relieved smile pull at the boy’s mouth. “Right. Well… Thank you. Again. I… thank you.”

He disappears up the rickety wood stairs. On their way out, Jaskier sees Geralt discretely drop the ducats into a partially-opened drawer by the entrance to the kitchen.

That soft, warm feeling in Jaskier gives an aching, happy tug.

 V.

Jaskier watches, fascinated, as Geralt’s eye twitches. The music that fills the tavern is not coming from Jaskier, and while the other bard is clearly less experienced, Jaskier seems less bothered by the amateur display than the Witcher. Which is odd—really odd—to Jaskier. Because he had been certain that Geralt really couldn’t give a rat’s ass about music.

Jaskier looks at the Witcher over the top of his wine glass as he takes another sip. “What’s troubling you, Geralt?”

Geralt settles an irritated golden gaze onto Jaskier as the bard (the other one) starts another song. It takes only a few seconds for Jaskier to realize it’s the same simple, mundane chord progression and structure as the last song played. Jaskier doesn’t miss the way Geralt’s gaze flickers lightning quick to the lute beside him.

Jaskier stifles a grin. “Don’t tell me you’re already missing my serenades.”

Geralt isn’t looking back at him, instead watching the other bard parade around the room with a look that is very nearly a glare. “At least your songs have some… complexity.”

That sends a very unexpected surge of warmth through Jaskier’s chest. He sits up a bit more, leaning forward. “Musically or lyrically?”

“Music,” Geralt replies, almost absently. “The… chords?” The Witcher’s gaze flickers uncertainly to Jaskier, who can’t help but feel like he’s clinging to every word. He gives Geralt a slight, encouraging nod. Geralt shifts. “They’re better than this shit.”

Jaskier stares at him. Sure, the Witcher didn’t have the same musically-inclined vocabulary, but even that couldn’t hide the fact that Geralt listens to his music. Really listens.

Geralt tears his gaze away from Jaskier’s after a moment, taking a long pull of ale from the tankard in front of him. “Your lyrics,” he continues, “are little more than inaccurate stories.”

“Ah, my dear Witcher, ordinarily I would balk at such a baseless accusation—”

“It’s not baseless.”

“—but you cannot hide the fact any longer.” Jaskier cannot contain the grin that pulls at his lips any more than he can contain the surge of a warm, fluttery feeling in his chest. He points a finger at Geralt. “You listen to me.”

Geralt looks back at him and—though he knows Geralt would deny it—Jaskier swears he sees a twitch to the corner of his mouth. “Impossible not to,” Geralt replies dryly, “what with you filling every damn second with song.” He takes another swallow.

The thinly veiled deflection does nothing to diminish Jaskier’s smile. “And you like it.”

This time, Geralt can’t quite contain the tilt to the corner of his mouth. “Hmm.”

Jaskier knows it’s a hum of agreement.

 VI.

Jaskier’s heart still hasn’t stopped pounding, even though they’d finished the treacherous part of the shortcut around an hour ago. The image of Borch, Téa, and Véa plummeting—their bodies disappearing into the mountain mist below—still leaves Jaskier with a slight roll to his stomach and an ache in his bones that had nothing to do with the long day of foot travel.

It’s close to dusk. The chill of evening mountain air begins to stiffen the bard’s fingers as he sets his lute down beside his bedroll. The dwarves busy themselves with setting up camp and starting to prepare a meal, but Jaskier can’t help the way he keeps watching Geralt.

Geralt, who hadn’t said a thing since Borch let go of the chain.

Jaskier kneels by his bedroll and pretends to adjust it, but he watches the Witcher sitting on a boulder a few yards away. He gazes out over the jagged terrain off the cliffside. He is still. But Jaskier feels his chest knot with concern.

Geralt was perhaps the single most selfless person that Jaskier had met in his 40 years of living. But that came with its pitfalls too—especially as it related to how Geralt tended to view himself. There had always been splintered shards in Geralt’s soul that Jaskier didn’t know how to begin to dig out. But he can still picture the way Geralt had stayed kneeling for a moment on those wooden planks, his head bowed like the weight of the world had—for just a moment—dropped on top of him.

Jaskier fears he knows that body language, and the weighted silence that had followed that moment. He fears that his 22 years of traveling with the Witcher means that he really does know Geralt. And that Geralt feels that he has let them down somehow, despite all he did to try to save them. Even at great risk to himself, Jaskier remembers with a bit of a wince, hearing the creak of those boards under Geralt’s feet.

The Witcher could never catch a break, it seemed.

With a sigh, Jaskier stands and crosses to him. Geralt makes no move to acknowledge his presence, not really, but his stillness is a sign of recognition in and of itself. The bard sets himself carefully, gingerly, on the boulder beside him.

“You did your best,” Jaskier tells him softly, the words managing to push through his slightly tight throat. “There’s nothing else you could have done.”

Jaskier looks at Geralt as he says it. The Witcher had spent more years constructing a mask of passivity and stoicism than Jaskier had been alive, but the bard knows him. And when he sees Geralt’s gaze drop by a few degrees, he knows he’d been right about where Geralt’s thoughts had been.

Something in Jaskier’s chest pulses with an ache that he cannot name. Geralt has carried too much for too long and Jaskier desires fervently to ease that burden. To find a way to let Geralt breathe and be and exist without quite so much heaviness.

“Look, why don’t we leave tomorrow?” he offers, his fingers fidgeting in his lap against the sudden desire to take Geralt’s hand. “That is, if you’ll give me another chance to prove myself a… worthy travel companion.”

It’s a weak, flimsy attempt for a smile. Geralt doesn’t, but there’s just the slightest tug at the corner of his mouth when he hums in response. Geralt glances at him briefly, and though Jaskier doesn’t meet his gaze, that aching in his chest gives a sharp lurch with hope.

“We could head to the coast. Get away for a while,” he adds softly. He’d never said the words aloud before, but they resonate with a certain familiarity. “Sounds like something Borch would say, doesn’t it? ‘Life’s too short. Do what pleases you… while you can.’”

Jaskier swallows, setting his hands on his thighs because they are only getting more fidgety with each pulse of that sharp warmth in his chest—more insistent now. Harder to ignore.

“Composing your next song?” Geralt rumbles quietly.

Jaskier looks down at his hands. “No, I’m just, ah—” I love you, he thinks without daring to look at him. “Just trying to work out what pleases me.”

 VII.

They’re half a mile out of town when it starts to rain. The starting sprinkle lasts just long enough for Jaskier to think he’s glad he invested in a case for the lute before the sky opens up and it starts to pour. Then he’s also glad he bought some decent boots at the last town they were in.

“Fuck.” Jaskier knows that tone. Geralt is annoyed. The bard glances at the Witcher beside him, a faintly amused smile pulling at his lips and a teasing quip on his tongue, but… it dies on his tongue .

Because Geralt meets his gaze, and for a moment, Jaskier forgets how to breathe.

He doesn’t know why, really. The rain soaks Geralt’s white hair, causing some of it to fall into the man’s face in damp, loose strings. His dark shirt is quickly becoming plastered to his broad shoulders from the downpour, having left his armor to be cleaned during their quick trip to the woods to collect some medicinal herbs. Jaskier thinks it’s something about the Witcher’s eyes. Maybe it’s something to do with the way water droplets cling to his lashes. Or the way his golden eyes seem so much brighter in the downpour. Maybe it’s something else entirely.

Jaskier is a man of many words and many metaphors. But he finds words failing him entirely now, and he can’t explain why. Except that he’s left with the sudden, clear sense that looking at Geralt feels a lot like being called home.

Geralt tilts his head slightly, the way he usually did when he was about to ask a question, but Jaskier blinks and jumps in before he can.

“And you thought the lute case was a poor investment. Well, how do you feel now, Geralt? We still have half a mile to go before shelter, and such time for a lute to spend in rain like this…” Jaskier shakes his head. “It would be nothing short of an absolute, irrevocable tragedy.”

“Hmm.” Geralt looks away from Jaskier then, squinting briefly up at the sky. Not squinting, Jaskier realizes after a beat. Glaring.

“Not a fan of the rain?” he asks, mostly rhetorical. Geralt rarely vocally complained—usually Jaskier did it enough for the both of them—but the slight crease between his brows is a familiar look of displeasure. Jaskier pulls the lute case off his shoulders and shrugs out of his doublet.

“It will make it harder to track—what are you doing?”

Jaskier rolls his eyes as he slings the lute case back around his shoulder. “You left your cloak back at the inn, and I know, though you will adamantly deny it, that the real reason you hate the rain is because it gets into your eyes and makes it harder for your sensitive, Witchery eyes to see. So, here.” He hands the purple doublet out to him, looking very pointedly down the road where they can just barely make out the silhouette of the edge of the town.

“Jaskier…” A hesitation. A surprisingly heavy one.

“Honestly, Geralt, you’ll be doing me a favor. Wet doublets are dreadfully heavy, and as I am already saddled with carrying the weight of this lute and your reputation…” Jaskier looks back at the Witcher then to flash him a smile.

Geralt stares at him for a long moment, then takes the garment. As he does so, Jaskier swears he sees a twitch to the corner of Geralt’s mouth.

The bard quickly spins around and rushes a few steps in front of him, arms outstretched to welcome the rainfall, feeling a little breathless again.

 VIII.

Jaskier jolts to awareness with a desperate, strangled gasp. Bile surges up his throat and he barely has the wherewithal to roll away from the person beside him—whose presence is more sensed than seen. Jaskier groans and shuts his eyes against the rolling nausea and the oddly briny taste it leaves in his mouth.

“Fuck,” he mutters, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. He feels a hand rest between his shoulder-blades, so gently it almost seems hesitant.

When Jaskier takes a breath, it trembles. More bile—salty and acrid—rushes up his throat. When the second round of nausea abates and the coughing that wracks his lungs eases, Jaskier feels something cool and smooth pushed against his lips. He instinctively jerks away.

“Damn it, Jaskier,” snaps a rumbling voice. It’s weirdly familiar, even if the strain in it sounds foreign to the bard’s ears. “There’s not—”

Whatever the voice was saying is drowned out by a beautiful, echoing melody. It whispers promises of safety and warmth and love, and something in Jaskier’s chest gives a near painful lurch towards the sound. It’s also not until then that Jaskier gets a sense of his surroundings: the lake in front of him, the grainy sand sticking to his sopping wet clothes, the slate gray overcast sky above him. There are ripples in the lake and that song is calling to him from the water.

Overcome, Jaskier scrambles towards it.

“Fuck—”

Something thick and heavy grabs around Jaskier’s torso and pulls him back. The bard’s back hits something solid and firm but Jaskier’s chest is still pulling, pulling, pulling towards the water, towards the song.

The cool, smooth thing is pressed to his lips again. Jaskier wrenches his head away. But then he can hear something, barely, rumbling like distant thunder beneath the lilting song.

“Drink it, Jaskier. Please.”

The “please” sounds… odd to him. Strained and choked.

Jaskier lets his lips part in response, and a cool liquid floods into his mouth. It tastes of honey and cotton, washing away the briny taste that had been lingering in his mouth. He swallows it down.

A second later, the song fades away. So does the sound of the lake and the dusk breeze brushing past his ears. Just… silence. Jaskier feels the pulling in his chest release and the bard nearly goes boneless from the sudden relief.

He blinks a few times as clarity starts to trickle back into his thoughts. He’d been… traveling. Tracking a siren, or a mutation of one anyway. Yes, that was right. But he’d been with someone. Specifically…

“Geralt?” he asks, his own voice sounding odd in his head with the rest of the world muted. He realizes as soon as the name leaves his lips that Geralt is the thing that’s holding him in place. Jaskier cranes his neck to look at the Witcher, who still hasn’t relaxed his grip. Bright gold eyes meet his blue ones, then flickers over his form with panicked speed.

The stoic, collected look the Witcher usually wore has splintered, just a bit, and Jaskier thinks he can see a glimpse through the cracks that Geralt is frantically trying to piece back together.

He’s… afraid, Jaskier thinks. Or he had been, a moment ago.

“I’m okay,” Jaskier tells him, if only because he has the feeling that maybe Geralt needs to hear it.

The Witcher doesn’t reply, instead swallowing thickly and sinking his head to where Jaskier’s neck meets his shoulder. And if Jaskier traces Geralt’s arm around him to find his hand and lace their fingers together, well. Geralt doesn’t seem to protest.

 IX.

Jaskier is about halfway through the song about the vampiress when the door to the tavern ricochets open with a loud crack. Geralt staggers a step into the room—and it’s the fact that he staggers that makes Jaskier stop mid-song. The Witcher’s entrance is less than graceful, but Jaskier watches closely as Geralt grits his teeth, straighten his spine, and step fully through the threshold. Geralt’s eyes flicker over the room like he’s looking for something, or someone—perhaps the woman who had hired him—when they settle on Jaskier.

Oh.

The bard gracefully, if quickly, jumps to his feet and slings the lute in his hands around his back. Geralt is hiding it now behind sharp eyes and a rigid posture, but something is wrong. Jaskier can tell.

“I hate to cut a performance short,” he says to the crowd as he maneuvers through them towards the Witcher, mostly in an effort to break the sudden silence in the room, “but alas, I must bid you all adieu for the evening. Geralt, shall we?”

Geralt doesn’t argue. Doesn’t even hum. But he follows Jaskier as the bard carves a path through the crowd towards the stairs. Jaskier flashes patrons reassuring smiles despite the way his own throat is tightening with concern.

They make it to the room—barely—before Geralt’s steps falter again. Jaskier steadies him by grabbing his arm and bracing a hand against Geralt’s chest.

“Easy,” he says softly.

“Fuck.”

“Here. Let’s get you sitting before you end up face-first on the floor, because if that happens then we’re both out of luck because—Melitele’s tits—” Jaskier yelps  when he staggers for a second under Geralt’s sudden weight. “Okay. I’ve got you. Here we go.”

Jaskier is rambling as they cross the small room to the bed. He helps Geralt sit, kneeling in front of him as the Witcher sinks to the edge of the mattress. Geralt grimaces tightly and pitches forward into the bard, his head landing on Jaskier’s shoulder. His weight sinks a bit more, as if too weary to pull away. This close, Jaskier can feel the echoes of faint tremors wracking through his body.

Jaskier swallows the rising panic down. “Potions?” he asks in as level of a voice as he can manage.

“Out,” Geralt answers. “The venom isn’t lethal just—” Another shudder and a tight grunt. “—hurts like a fucking bitch.”

Jaskier releases a faint breath. He supposes he should feel relieved that it’s not lethal, but he can’t help that the tightness in his throat doesn’t quite ease. “What can I do?” he asks, because of all the things Geralt could have done and all the places he could have gone, he chose to find Jaskier when in immense pain. He wants to live up to that display of open trust.

He feels Geralt fist a hand in his shirt. “Just… stay.”

“My dear Witcher,” Jaskier says thickly, and if his voice breaks just a little, at least Geralt doesn’t seem to notice. “I’m not going anywhere.”

 X.

Jaskier doesn’t think about it. He sees the mage thrust a hand out in Geralt’s direction when the Witcher’s back is turned and Jaskier lunges on nothing but instinct and the acrid taste of fear on his tongue.

A bolt of sharp green slams into his chest. Something cracks when Jaskier hits the forest floor, something that the bard doesn’t think is magic. His head snaps against the ground, his vision swimming. Heat and sharpness tears through his chest.

Someone screams. Maybe it’s Jaskier. He thinks he hears his name shouted, but it sounds far away.

He is drowning. Can you drown without water?

The bard gasps, desperately, searching for air that he can’t seem to drag into his burning, burning, burning lungs.

His eyes sting. He doesn’t know how much time passes.

There’s a hand on his shoulder—and Jaskier tries very hard to let that tug him from his haze of thoughts. When the hand pulls at him, rolling him onto his back, Jaskier can’t quite contain the choked whimper that releases in the back of his throat. He grimaces, his eyes squeezed shut.

“Jaskier.”

He definitely knows that voice. Jaskier blinks his eyes open, setting squarely on Geralt above him. It occurs to him that he’s never seen Geralt’s eyes quite so wide.

“Fuck,” Jaskier wheezes. He grimaces again. Is he dying? He doesn’t know.

“What the fuck were you thinking, you goddamn idiot?”

“My dear Witcher,” Jaskier replies, pretending he doesn’t notice the way Geralt’s voice very nearly breaks. Jaskier voice is tight with pain—his lungs are throbbing—but soft. Unapologetic. “You’re quite lucky I love you, or else I might be insulted.”

He’d never said those words aloud before—I love you—but he means them. He thinks perhaps he’s meant them for quite a long time. Long before even the thought had occurred to him on that mountain all those years ago.

And he thinks Geralt knows this, from the way his eyes widen, and then his whole expression crumples.

“Jask,” he says, a hand cupping the bard’s jaw, his thumb skimming Jaskier’s cheekbone. “You can’t—you… fuck.”

Jaskier takes a breath to reply but cuts off with a wince at the sharp jolt it sends spiking up through his ribs. But he realizes then that the burning in his lungs is easing—gradually, but quickly—and the bard’s next exhale trembles with relief, even as his vision blurs with tears. Whatever spell the mage had sent at Geralt, it seems like one meant to briefly incapacitate and not kill outright. With a quiet grunt of effort, Jaskier presses a hand against the wet leaves beneath him and pushes to sit up.

Geralt looks startled, but he helps nonetheless. The hand on Jaskier’s jaw slips back to cup the back of his neck and the other grabs his free hand to ease him up. The bard sees Geralt’s gaze flicker over his form.

Jaskier tosses him a shaky, wan smile. “Not a lethal spell, it would seem.”

“You didn’t know that,” Geralt snaps, like that should have made a difference in Jaskier’s decision to jump in front of it.

“A moot point, really, Geralt.”

Something bright and pained flickers through Geralt’s gaze. He takes a breath as if to reply, then stops. A crease appears between his brows a second later. “You’re still hurt.”

“Some broken ribs,” Jaskier replies dismissively. The fact that Geralt is still gripping him like he’s afraid Jaskier might just dissolve into smoke in front of him doesn’t escape the bard’s attention.

“Hmm.” He sees Geralt swallow. Watches the way his pupils flicker over the bard’s chest and refuses to meet his eyes.

“Geralt.” The gaze snaps to his own, wide and splintering. Jaskier takes a shallow breath, his gaze as steady as the words that leave his lips. “I meant it, you know. I do. Love you, I mean.”

Though Jaskier can’t be sure—his ears are still ringing a bit—he thinks he hears Geralt’s breath catch.

“Jaskier,” he says, and the bard doesn’t know why his name sounds choked in Geralt’s throat. The Witcher leans forward until his forehead rests against Jaskier’s, and he’s clutching the bard’s hand to his chest like it’s a lifeline. “I… fuck. Fuck.”

And then Jaskier feels Geralt’s lips brush against his own—soft and careful, warm and asking. And Jaskier kisses him back with answers and promises on the edge of his lips.

It feels like coming home.