#me right after: watches intently for the entire hour and does no work

[lovebugism]

"get up, you're snoring and i can't hear the movie." "then turn it up..." "so you can yell at me for waking you up? no!" "you woke me up anyway!" THIS is so Eddie coded

anon, you're so right. this IS so eddie coded. hope you like it!! — the one where eddie wants to spend time with you, even when he's so so tired (fluff, miscommunication, established relationship, 1.3k)

bug's summer fic fest ♡

Empire Strikes Back plays on the tiny television across the room, blurry through static and mostly unwatched.

The swelling score fills the small living room as Han Solo weaves through an active asteroid field. Green lasers from enemy TIE fighters light up the dark room in varying shades of vivid neon. The only source of light in the whole trailer comes from the glowing television screen. 

As the smuggler leads the Millennium Flacon to safety on a foreign planet, Harrison Ford mumbles beneath his breath — “Yeah, that’ll do nicely.” You’re forced to imagine the deep baritone of the man’s honeyed voice with Eddie snoring through the entire scene.

The Munson boy was known for being a loudmouth every other hour of the day, so it only made sense that he couldn’t stay quiet in his sleep. You never minded it, though. You found it quite endearing, actually. Though maybe not when his heavy breaths are billowing directly in your ear.

Eddie was the one who wanted to have a movie night, after all. Between your studies and his shifts at the car shop, the two of you were lucky to have a day to yourselves. This night together was the first one you’ve had without interruption in a week. 

Well, it was supposed to be, anyway.

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Princess Leia frets as Eddie breathes in a soft snore. 

With the way he’s holding you — his arm thrown over your middle, pressing you intently to his chest so the two of you could fit on the small couch — his warm exhale fans across the shell of your ear. He nuzzles his nose against the skin there, taunting you with his cuteness.

Adorable, and so unaware.

“Yeah, me too—” Han quips, though it’s drowned out by a louder snore.

Tired and half-annoyed, you elbow the boy in the ribs — gently until he starts to stir. 

He groans and holds you tighter. You can imagine his scrunched features halfway hidden beneath his wild, curly hair. “Hm… What is it?” he grumbles in an inaudible slur. 

“You’re snoring,” you grouse with a dramatic pout furrowing your brows. “I can’t hear the movie.”

Eddie huffs. He’s almost as annoyed as you are now, displeased that you woke him up just to tell him that. His limbs grow heavy with sleep all over again. He hugs you tighter to him and smells your floral body wash when he buries his face against the side of yours. 

The ends of his hair tickle your neck. You fight back a shiver.

“Just turn it up,” he mumbles.

“So you can yell at me for waking you up?” you retort in a scoff.

Eddie exhales a faint laugh into your ear. It’s a much prettier sound than his semi-aggressive snores. “You woke me up anyway!”

“Because I can’t hear the stupid movie— the movie that you wanted to watch, by the way.”

You expect him to meet your quip with one of his own. Like he always does. Your relationship was practically built on petty banter and accompanied kisses. So when he responds with a strangely sincere apology, you’re quite visibly perplexed.

“I’m sorry, babe, I just…” he cuts himself off with yawn — a big one that squints his eyes and takes several long moments to get out. You feel his chest deflate with the heavy exhale. “…I’m just tired. I had to cover for Wayne and ended up working, like, twelve hours. I’m pretty sure my arms are made of jello now.”

He laughs his exhaustion off while you melt for him.

You grow suddenly heavy with a mixture of adoration and guilt. With pinched-together brows, you twist on the cushion until you’re on your back and staring up at the sleepy boy.

Half of his face is shadowed by the night, while the other half glows with the flickering scenes from the fuzzy television. 

As you expected, his hair is wild and his eyes are heavy and his cheeks are puffy with sleep. The day had certainly done a number on your pretty boy.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” you ask, much softer than you’d been just moments before.

He shrugs one shoulder with jutted pink lips, jostling you softly. Despite his fatigue, his chocolate eyes sparkle down at you.

“‘Cause it was my idea. And you were super excited about it… And also I thought I could stay awake,” he rambles, then scrunches the bridge of his nose. “I think I might’ve been wrong about that one.”

You twist on the cushions again, facing him more and melting with him effortlessly. He slides one arm behind your head and clutches your thigh with the other when you swing it over his hip. His gaze flits between yours as a smile pulls at your lips. 

“You were very, very wrong, Eddie Munson,” you lilt and smooth the palm of your hand over his jaw. “Here I thought, you were just getting bored of me.”

He snorts a bitter laugh, unamused by your silly half-joke. “Never,” he assures right before closing the short distance between you and pressing his lips to yours. 

He tastes like buttered popcorn, sweet soda, and much needed sleep.

It’s a languid peck — innocent and unwavering. A slotting of his mouth with yours and a lingering there for several moments.

When he pulls away from you, you mutter, “Do you want me to leave?”

His chin jerks back as though you’d just said something so inane that he can't help but be shocked by it. His dark eyes go wide accordingly, face lighting up in flickering shades of white and blue from the television screen. 

“Why would you even ask me that?” he wonders, taking full offense to your harmless inquiry.

“‘Cause you’re tired,” you answer with a quiet laugh. “And I want you to sleep.”

“I can sleep just fine right here.”

“No, you can’t! I’ll fall off the edge!”

“Not like this, you can’t—” he assures before maneuvering you all over again. 

He keeps his firm hold on you as he wriggles on the couch cushions. He twists until he’s lying on his back and his head is propped up on the arm of the sofa.

You’re lying on top of him completely, legs slotted between both of his, torso pressed intently against his own, and forearms above his shoulders to hold yourself up.

He exhales sharply through his nose when he finally settles, beaming up at you right after. He's visibly tired but looks like sunshine anyway. He’s too in love with you not to wear it all over his face.

“See? Is this perfect or what?”

“I’ll crush you,” you answer with a laugh, knowing if you rested your full weight on him, he’d have a much harder time being so comfortable.

“What a sweet, sweet way to go,” Eddie singsongs in a whimsical sigh.

“You’re such an idiot,” you giggle, shaking your head down at him. 

You brush the tip of your nose over the bridge of his for a moment before kissing him again. It’s deeper than the peck from before, but no less innocuous — lips clicking sweetly when you part from him.

You huff and wedge yourself between his side and the couch cushion so you can relax without halfway suffocating him.

You hold him like a teddy bear while he slides an arm over your back, curling his free one behind his head in a makeshift pillow. He tilts his chin downward and smiles when he watches you smush your cheek against his chest.

“Tired?” he hums quietly to you.

You shake your head in response even though your bones ache with the sort of exhaustion only a college student could know. Your eyelids grow suddenly heavy. Blinking becomes a chore.

“No,” you answer. Your words come out slurred in a terribly hidden yawn. “Are you?”

He shakes his head, slow and lazy. His eyes flutter shut a second later. Yours aren’t open to see it, anyway.

“Nope,” he says, popping the p.

Neither of you is entirely sure who fell asleep first — only that the movie played on without you that night.

You’ll spend breakfast bickering about who stayed awake the longest, between bowls of cereal and morning kisses alike.

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things imagine #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fluff #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #st drabbles #eddie spaghetti drabble #bug's summer fic fest!

[froggibus]

Sated at Last - Mammon

Pairing: Mammon x f! reader (reader uses female pronouns and has a pussy)

Genre: smut/NSFW

Word count: 2.4k

Summary: after finding out you’re a virgin, Mammon is determined to change that

CW: cherry chaser Mammon, reader is super innocent, virgin!reader, loss of virginity, protected sex (yeah, that’s right B), fingering, P/V, (very hurt/comfort of me tbh), very very slight dacryphillia, soft dom! Mammon, aftercare!!, kinda just wholesome and fluffy

its been a while since i wrote any obey me but idk i thought this idea would be kinda cute + mammon lives in my head rent free lol

————

“Wouldn’t that hurt?” You scrunch up your eyebrows at the sex scene playing on the tv. 

“Wouldn’t what hurt?”

“That position, the way they’re…doing it,” you look at Mammon seriously. 

Mammon tilts his head and gives you a lopsided grin, “you mean missionary?”

“Yes?”

He chuckles. “You’ve never done it missionary?”

“No,” you shake your head. “I’ve never done it at all,” you admit. 

You say it so casually and then go back to laying in the crook of Mammon’s arm, your head resting on his chest. 

Fuck, is all the demon can think. He was already infatuated with you, much to his dismay, but your confession has only made it worse. And looking at him with those goddamn doe eyes and asking about sex? He’s so gone. 

He’s grateful you’re too focused on the movie to see the pink tinge to his ears or the strain of his pants. He tries to focus back on the movie, but all he can think about is you and how innocent you are and how sweet you would taste. 

— 

After that night, you’re all he can think about. When he’s studying, when he’s working, even at the fucking dinner table. All he can think about is spreading you out and claiming you before some guy with less honorable intentions does. 

He’s your first man, it’s his job to look out for you. He’s just looking out for you. That’s all. There’s nothing else to it—you’ll get eaten alive in the Devildom if they smell that innocence on you. 

It doesn’t help that you seem to follow him around wherever he goes. You cling to his side at dinner, spend more time in his room than you do in yours, and even hang out at his work while he’s working. The only y/n free hours he gets are when he’s sleeping, and even then he dreams about you. 

“Are you okay?” You tilt your head at the white haired demon.

You’re laying on his couch on your stomach, watching him play video games on the floor. 

“Hm?” Mammon snaps out of his daze, blue eyes meeting yours. 

“You’ve been kinda…off, lately.”

He shrugs, “I’ve just had a lot on my mind.”

“What’s on your mind?”

With impeccable timing, just as Mammon finishes his level and properly looks up at you, the strap of your bra slips down your shoulder. The thin piece of fabric makes his face flush, and with the way he’s reacting to it, you’d think he saw a glimpse of your panties or something. 

“I think,” he sighs. What can he even say to not sound like a total creep? “I-I just need some alone time.”

“Alone time?”

He tugs on his hair in frustration. “Y-you’re so clingy, y/n!”

Your jaw falls open at his words, and there’s an icy feeling spreading inside of you. Clingy? He’s calling you clingy? He’s the only person in the entire Devildom that you feel safe with. The only person you want to be around. 

“I just…I don’t have any other friends here,” your shoulders slump and those cute doe eyes fill up with tears. 

Mammon knows he fucked up as soon as he sees the dejected look on your face. “Gimme some space, y/n.”

You don’t say anything else before you run for the door, tears stinging at the corners of your eyes. Mammon watches you leave, and he hates the way it makes his heart hurt. 

Still, it needed to be done. He hates the thoughts he has about you, hates how possessive he feels over you, hates how greedy he is. How he just wants to ruin your innocence for his own selfish gain. 

People really are right about him. 

It only takes an hour before you’re knocking on his door, eyes puffy with tears. Mammon takes his sweet time shuffling to the door, trying to build up the courage to look you in the eye. 

“Mammon,” your voice is soft and low. 

Mammon curses himself for the way his cock swells at the sight of the tears on your face. He’s supposed to protect you from guys like him, but here he is, getting all worked up over your tears and virginity. 

He opens the door, looking down at you seriously. You look up at him, and despite how he had treated you earlier, you still look at him like he hung the moon.

“I just—just want to know what I did wrong,” you say. 

He opens the door wider, “how about you come in?”

You quietly pad into his room, settling down on the couch like you always did. You draw your knees into your chest, waiting for him to sit across from you. 

“I-I’m sorry for being sucha jerk lately,” he says. “I’ve been…struggling, with some personal stuff.”

“Personal stuff? Is everything okay?”

Damn you for being so cute and understanding. He adjusts his pants, taking in a deep breath. 

He can’t meet your eyes, his cheeks flushing. “D’you remember when we were watching that movie a few weeks ago?”

You pause for a minute and he swears he can see the gears turning in your head. You blink a few times, trying to remember. “Do you feel weird because I asked about sex? I’m sorry if I invaded any boundaries and—”

“I feel weird because you said you’re a virgin.”

He looks anywhere but you, his face absolutely burning. If it were possible for him to die of shame, he would. You don’t say anything for a while, trying to think of a reason why he would feel weird about your sex experience. The idea that he thinks of you like that at all is enough to make you clench your thighs together. 

You don’t know why, but you lean in and press your hand over his. “Why?”

In an instant, he’s laying on top of you. One of his hands has your hands pinned above your head, the other is supporting his weight so he doesn’t crush you. You can feel the muscles through his t-shirt, feel every breath he takes and the racing of his heart. You wonder if he can feel the same from you. 

“Because I can smell it on you, and some demons would ravage you if they could smell it on you.”

You take a shaky breath, squirming beneath him. “Some demons?”

“Horrible, selfish, greedy demons that just want to take your innocence for themselves.”

It’s then that his words click for you. Mammon wants to take your virginity, the Mammon wants to have sex with you. Mammon’s been avoiding you because typical of him, he can’t confront his feelings for you. 

“What if,” You pause, knowing that if you say what you’re going to say, everything will change forever. “What if I want that greedy demon to take my innocence?”

His eyes darken. “You don’t want that, y/n. Not from me. I-I ruin everything I touch. I don’t want to ruin you too.”

“Ruin me, Mammon. I don’t care if you ruin me, because it’s you.”

Your words ignite something in him, and suddenly his lips are on yours and his grip is tightening on your wrists. He’s hungry, wasting no time in attacking your mouth with his. He slides his knee between your legs, grinding it right against your sweet spot. 

He’s so turned on, so driven by his own hunger, that it takes everything in him to pull away. “You’re sure you want this?”

“I’m sure.”

“Alright, get in my bed and take your clothes off.”

You obey him, heading up the stairs to his bed and stripping out of your clothes. You cover your exposed chest with crossed arms, laying back on his bed. 

Mammon follows suit, stripping out of the t-shirt he was wearing. His toned stomach makes your face heat up and pussy gush. You look away as he takes his pants off, only looking when he crawls into the bed next to you. 

He slides an arm around your shoulders, tugging your head into his chest. His other hand trails down your thighs, pushing them apart to give his long fingers easier access. He taps your clit with the pad of his finger, eliciting a moan from you. 

You’re reactive, good to know. 

He plays with your clit, rubbing and pinching and rolling it with his hands. “That feel good, baby?”

You can only nod, letting out a breathy mhm in response. Your pussy reacts with every movement of his hands, your hole clenching empty air and leaking juices all over his comforter. 

“What do you need, baby? Tell me.”

You whimper, bucking your hips against his hand. It feels so good, so intense, and it leaves you wanting more. Wanting him. 

“Use your words, baby.”

“I-I need you…I need you to fuck me.”

His hand trails down from your clit to your drooling hole, slowly slipping one of his fingers inside of you. You whine even more now, throwing your head back and closing your eyes. 

Mammon slips another finger inside, slowly working you open on his hands. “Are you okay? Do you want to keep going?”

“I-I want you,” you urge, eyes tearing up from the pleasure building inside of you. 

“I know, I know. But I gotta stretch you out first or you won’t be able to take it.”

His words make you gush even more and he chuckles, taking advantage of how wet you are to slip another finger in. He goes faster now, curling his fingers inside of you. You wrap an arm around his shoulder, running your hand through his hair. 

He pulls his fingers out slowly but you still wince at the emptiness. He can’t help but lick your juices off of them, his cock only getting harder from the way you taste. He gets up from the bed, rummaging through the nightstand until he finds a condom. 

You watch as he rolls it onto his shaft, your eyes widening at the size of him. He climbs back onto the bed between your legs, and you spread them as wide as you can for him. 

“This is what you want? You’re sure?”

“Just fuck me, please.”

He gets it in right away, driving it into you slowly. You’re a little tense, and he’s a lot bigger than you expected, so it takes a minute for him to get it all the way inside of you. It’s unlike anything you’ve ever felt, though. He’s so deep you can feel it in your tummy, and despite the way it stings, your pussy has never felt better. 

He doesn’t give you much time to adjust—he’s so excited to finally be fucking you that he simply forgets. You don’t mind, though. You’re so horny that you don’t care, even if it does hurt for the first few thrusts. 

He’s slow at first, but as you relax and get wetter, he picks up the pace. He’s propped up on one arm, his chest almost flush with yours. His thrusts are intense, and so deep that they hit the parts of you that you’ve always wanted to be touched. 

“You’re being so good right now,” he pants, “taking me so well.”

You cling to his shoulders, tangle your fingers in his hair, anything to ground yourself to the reality that you’re being fucked by Mammon right now. He moans, but they’re more like quiet whines and they only egg you on more. 

With every deep thrust, the moans are forced out of your throat, and though you try to be quiet, Mammon looks at you with a crooked smile. 

“Shh,” he holds a finger up to his lips. 

“S-sorry,” you say, but you’re cut off by another loud moan when he bottoms out again. 

He covers your mouth with his hand, speeding up even more. He thrusts into you over and over, going as deep as possible every time. The heat inside of you is only building, and you feel like you’re going to burst at any second. 

“I’m gonna cum,” he whines. 

You nod, wrapping your arms tighter around his shoulders to draw him closer. He’s driving his hips into yours so hard that you can feel bruises starting to form on your thighs from where they wrap around him. 

He slams into you, and you come undone. Your muscles contract and relax, and the muscles in your legs start to twitch. Your grip on his shoulders loosens as you focus on the way your whole nervous system seems to have caught fire. 

Mammon collapses into your chest, thrusting a few more sloppy times as he fills the condom with cum. He keeps his head on your shoulder and his cock inside of you while he catches his breath. 

“How are you doing?” He asks. 

“Good,” you say, rubbing circles on his back. 

“Do you need anything?”

You shake your head, “just you.”

“I’m all yours,” he kisses your forehead.

He pulls out, leaving you feeling cold and empty. He ties off the condom and throws it in his trash bin before pulling his underwear back on. 

He passes you his t-shirt, “you can put this on. I’m sure you’re gonna be a little sore so if you don’t wanna wear your panties, that’s okay.”

He helps you tug the shirt over your head, and kisses the tip of your nose. “I’m gonna grab some water, you should go pee before you go to bed. Okay?”

You nod, standing up on shaky legs. He’s right, you are a little sore. There’s a weird tight feeling in your tummy, not unlike the one while he was fucking you. You manage to make your way to the bathroom, grateful that it’s so close to his room and that it’s so late at night that no one else was around to notice. 

When you get back to Mammon’s room, he has the comforter pulled back and a glass of water at your bedside. 

You crawl into the bed and take a few sips of the water. “Thank you,” you mumble. You slide under the comforter and turn over on your side. “For everything.”

“Get some rest, baby. Sweet dreams.” He flicks off the light and goes to bed next to you, and everything in the world feels right again. 

#mammon x you #mammon x reader #shall we date mammon #obey me mammon #mammon fluff #mammon smut #mammon angst #mammon hurt/comfort #obey me oneshot #obey me swd #obey me x you #obey me x reader #obey me devildom #mammon #mammon avatar of greed #x reader #x you #x you smut

[tmpestuous]

Like I Want You (II)

summary: you and bucky have been best friends your entire life and it’s never been anything but platonic. so why do things get so bad when he gets a new girlfriend?

pairing: college!bucky x reader

word count: 5k

warnings: fluff, angst, childhood friends to lovers, female!oc, mentions of grief and accidents, bucky is still down horrendous but not like before

a/n: here's part two to like i want you! thank you for the love and comments on part one, reading your thoughts was super fun. i hope you enjoy the ending!

"does your mind play this game too?

think about me & you."

read part one here.

To say that you were growing impatient was the understatement of the year. 

You had almost hoped that your weekend trip back home would’ve been Bucky’s last straw, but after you both returned back to school, you still never heard from him. According to Sam and Steve, he was still in and out with Alina. They had barely gotten a few sentences from him since he came back.

At this point, you were on a different level of confused. But once again, you didn’t have the courage to just barge into his room and confront him about his antics. Then again, you weren’t even sure he’d be in his room whenever you managed to gain that courage.

You still had your own life to worry about, so you had decided to mind your business and go about your normal routine. Right before finals week, you had done most of your studying in the library. It was the best place for you to work quietly and distract yourself from the lack of your best friend who you’d been missing a lot extra lately.

It was difficult to admit to anyone but you longed for Bucky. You missed his cuddles, his forehead kisses, the strong smell of his favorite cologne that he said he bought because it reminded him of his father, the fact that he’d wear his entire metal arm out around you because he just felt that comfortable around you. You missed your Bucky. It was like he had gone missing and was nowhere to be found. 

You couldn’t watch your favorite movies without him there to make fun of your cliché choices and call your taste in celebrity crushes horrible. You cried yourself to sleep on the days you were supposed to spend the night with each other. You felt empty without him. 

There was even a day where you went to work on your project with Steve and he was surprisingly in their suite.

Bucky sat at the dining table, typing away at his computer with the intent to finally finish his paper for the class he’d dreaded taking all semester. His focus was interrupted by the knock at the door, making him inwardly curse and pray that it wasn’t Alina.

“Buck, could you get that?” Steve shouted from his room. 

Bucky sighed and stood up from his seat, walking over to the front door and not even bothering to look through the peephole. To his surprise, you were the one at the door, his heart sinking to the floor at the sight of you.

He could never forget your face, but you looked sadder than normal. And it was his fault, he thought.

“Hey,” he said softly. “Sorry, you didn’t knock six times. I didn’t know it was you.”

Hearing his voice after so long could have made you shatter right then and there, but you didn’t want to break in front of him. 

“I’m here for Steve, I didn’t know you were here,” you spoke softer than he did, knowing if you had spoke any louder, your voice might crack.

“Oh,” he said, and you were able to hear the tone in his voice drop to a hurt one. “He’s in his room, come in.”

He stepped aside so you could walk in before closing the door. He wanted nothing more than to hug you for hours on end, but he didn’t know where you stood with each other and the last thing he wanted to do was ask at this moment.

Timing’s usually never on his side, he cursed himself mentally.

He sat back at the table and sighed deeply to himself. If he could crawl in a hole, he would. 

That was a few days ago. You could have addressed everything then. You really wanted to, but besides your immediate task at hand, your pride somehow always got the best of you. You just wanted him to be happy; if Alina made him happy, you couldn’t bring yourself to get in the middle of that. Your only qualm was the voice in the back of your mind telling you that he wasn’t actually happy.

On one of your study nights in the library, you went to go use the bathroom. A few short moments after you walked in, you overheard that irritating voice you’d recognized easier than you should have.

“I’m getting a bit bored, he’s just too easy sometimes,” she complained and you only assumed she was talking about Bucky. “He said I embarrassed him in front of his mother which was… weird, to say the least. I didn’t know his dad was dead, how could I have possibly assumed something he didn’t tell me?”

If you could roll your eyes any further, you would.

“Then on top of that, he won’t quit mentioning how he hasn’t seen that stupid ‘best friend’ of his who hasn’t liked me from the start. I couldn’t have her ruining things for me.”

So all hope with Bucky wasn’t lost.

After the person on the receiving end of the phone call got their thoughts in, she continued.

“He’s easy to drag along to the things I need to look good at. Showing up to a party with James Barnes of all people? Nobody’s expecting it, he never shows up to parties unless his suitemates are showing up, and it only makes everyone envy me. I think I might end it tonight, though. It’s only fun to have an obedient boyfriend for a certain amount of time.”

She had kept going but she made her way out of the bathroom so you couldn’t hear the rest, but you had definitely heard more than enough. After cleaning yourself off and walking out of the bathroom, you gathered your things at the desk you were sitting at and made your way quickly over to Bucky’s dorm. To your surprise, as you walked in, you saw Alina walking out. She side eyed you before shoving past you, clearly not happy with whatever just went down inside of the suite. 

You knocked six times, knowing he was in there this time, and luckily, he opened the door. He looked like he was in his usual state, but you couldn’t help but make out the looming sadness in his eyes as soon as he saw you.

“Hey,” he said softly. No nicknames, no banter, just an awkward hesitation to overstep. “I know you have a project to finish for finals with Steve but he’s not h–”

“I’m here to see you, actually,” you interrupted him, which left his attention on you. “I think we need to talk.”

“Yeah, I think we do too,” he agreed, letting you inside the suite. 

You both walked into his room and he shut the door behind him as you took a seat at his desk, Bucky sitting across from you on his bed. 

“Why don’t you go first?” he offered anxiously. 

You took a deep breath, trying to fish in your brain for where to even start. 

“I love you, Bucky, so much. And you know that I’ll support just about anything you do, I always have,” you spoke slowly but surely, not wanting to let your emotions take over too soon. “But I can’t help but feel like you want nothing to do with me anymore. I haven’t seen you, I haven’t heard from you, and I haven’t felt this lonely in my entire life.” 

You avoided his gaze, which was focused intently on you. Playing with your fingers, you blinked away the tears that formed in your eyes.

“I’ve tried so hard to just be supportive of your relationship with Alina but it feels like you’re replacing me,” you choked out, tears so prominent in your eye sight that you had to blink to clear your vision to look at a very remorseful Bucky, leaning on his knees with his elbows on the edge of his bed. “I can’t lose another person who’s so important to me, Bucky. I can’t. It feels like I’m not whole anymore when you’re not there and you haven’t been there and nothing feels right anymore.”

Bucky rubbed the tears from his eyes in his usual effort of not wanting to cry, though it’s the first time he’s ever tried to avoid it in front of you. You could tell he felt embarrassed and was trying to find the right words to say.

“I need my Bucky back.” 

“Y/n—”

“No. I’m serious. This isn’t you, Buck,” you pushed. “I don’t even remember the last time I spent a whole day without you let alone a few weeks—”

“Y/n—”

“—and it felt like an eternity on top of me barely seeing you for the weeks before that—”

“Y/n!”

You stopped and looked right at him. He was crying a lot more now, the stream of tears evident on his face.

“I broke up with her. Right before you came.”

You sat there speechless. “Oh.”

“She wasn’t good for me and she wasn’t the one for me,” he continued. Even if you were upset with him, it was refreshing to just hear his voice. “I was already feeling it and then she sat in Dad’s seat and I couldn’t push past it for the longest time but I tried to make it work and it just wasn’t working. I knew that I hurt you and I’ve never hurt you like that before. The way you looked at me during that dinner and when you came to work on your project with Steve… it just felt like I had completely ruined everything we had and I couldn’t leave it that way, Y/n.”

He caught his breath, noticing how shaky it was. Bucky’s always been vulnerable with you, but you were never involved in anything he’d been vulnerable with you about. He’d vent to you about how his mom was giving him a hard time, when he’d accidentally upset his sister, how he couldn’t understand an assignment for the life of him and the professor was no help, how he hated the way his prosthetic got in the way of things… he never once vented to you about you. You were perfect to him and he had let something cloud his understanding of that for too long. 

“She was coming to break things off with me anyway, but I wanted to be the one to end it. I haven’t done anything to her. If anything, I gave her too many chances and she wanted to end things with me. That wasn’t gonna happen, I wasn’t gonna allow it. She pulled me away from all of the important things in my life, the important people in my life.”

You nodded, not wanting to interrupt him as he rambled about everything with tears clouding the blue eyes you’d known your entire life. 

“You’re my everything, bunny,” he looked you right in the eye. “My everything. And I let some random girl come in between that without hesitation and I’m never letting that happen again. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever. I miss you. I miss you so fucking bad and there’s only me to blame. I’m asking you to forgive me so I can make everything better and I won’t go back on my word this time. I want to fix it. Everything. If you’ll forgive me and let me, please.”

“Jamie,” you said with a sad tone, a bit upset that he thought you’d just up and leave and forget about him. You made your way to sit next to him on the edge of his bed, cupping his face and rubbing some of his tears away as he never ripped his eyes away from your face. “I miss you more. I’ve missed you more than I’ve missed anything I can still reach in this lifetime. I’ve thought about you every day, and yes, I was really upset with you. I never once thought you’d avoid me for so long and that made me feel awful. But I know you and I can see that regardless of everything happening, those weren’t your intentions. So, of course I forgive you. I just want you back.”

He nodded before pulling you into a hug and sobbing into your neck. Running your fingers through his hair, a few of your tears had also slipped onto your cheeks, but you wanted to comfort Bucky more than worry about yourself. You knew that he slipped through the cracks a bit when he didn’t want to, and for that, you could never be mad at him.

The next few days were a bit tense. 

Bucky overapologized, a lot. He even called his mom and sister about 50 times a day to apologize to them too. 

“Bucky, if you call me one more time–”

“I just wanted to check in, Becca.”

“You apologized, Buck. We are okay. We’ll see you when you come home.”

Bucky had also started making extra plans with you, Sam, and Steve to make up for all of the time he had lost. You knew he was unnecessarily driving himself a bit crazy, but you found it near impossible to make him stop.

“Honey, it’s okay–”

“And then we can go to that new drive-in theater they finally opened up back home,” he ignored your pleas. “We can bring Becca but she always says she’s third wheeling with us even though we’re not together but I can see what she means.”

Bucky didn’t even realize the words falling from his lips. You almost questioned it but he continued his ramble and you had to cup his face so he could look up from his phone for 5 seconds and at you instead.

“You don’t need to do so much, Jamie,” you repeated yourself for the hundredth time this week. “It’s okay, I mean that. Having you here is enough for me.”

“I missed so much time with you, bunny…” he bargained with you once again. “I feel like I need to fix everything and get back to our routine an–”

“James Buchanan Barnes,” you interrupted him to really catch his attention time.

“Am I dreaming?”

“No, you’re not,” you reassured. “Look, winter recess is right around the corner and we can spend every single living minute of every day with each other then. That’s how you’ll make it up to me. Deal?”

He nodded. “Deal, just as long as you say my name like that more often when you’re mad at him.”

“Shut up, dork,” you said as you threw a fry at him which he gladly caught in his mouth.

You finally felt like things were normal again. 

You and Bucky had studied for all of your finals together, spending a lot of downtime with each other too. You even joined him, Sam, and Steve for their weekly game nights because he had begged you to, his excuse being that he just wanted to be around you. 

Though everything was back to normal, you’d felt like you and Bucky were a lot closer than before, if that were even possible. He had slept in your room a lot more often, falling asleep while you had stayed up a bit later to catch up studying before waking up to drag you to bed.

“You’re gonna drive yourself crazy, bunny,” he said as he stood behind you sitting at your desk and wrapped his arms around you, his head leaning against yours. “You know you can’t do well on an exam if you get no sleep, right?”

“You also can’t do well on an exam if you know nothing about it, Bucky,” you countered, not wanting to give into the fact that he was definitely right. 

“I’ll help you study over breakfast tomorrow, bunny, just come to bed,” he said, placing his hands on your cheeks to make you look at him sporting a pout. “Please?”

Giving in, you sighed. “Okay, okay,” you said standing up after he smiled and gave you a kiss on your nose.

He was a lot more handsy with you, not in a bad way but definitely a lot more clingy. He’d lean into you a lot more when you slept next to each other, he would rest his head on yours and wrap his arm around your shoulder when you were walking together, he’d play with your fingers while sitting in a booth next to each other at a diner. He was also giving you a lot more kisses, though he said he was obligated to do so because of how long he’d gone without giving you one.

Bucky hadn’t realized it yet, but Sam and Steve were more than positive he was finally falling into his feelings for you, or more like falling in love with you. Bucky just knew that he felt really good about himself. He felt happier than he had in a while, and you were the number one person responsible for it.

One day, he walked into his room to see Sam and Steve playing some video game together on the TV, making his way to the fridge in the kitchen and grabbing a soda. 

“If it isn’t Sir Loverboy about to watch me kick Steve’s ass in this game right now,” Sam teased, not even moving his eyes anywhere but across the television screen.

“Sir Loverboy?” Bucky questioned, which only made Sam and Steve laugh. 

“You can’t be that oblivious, Buck,” Steve stated confidently, tearing his eyes away from the game for a split second and suddenly losing to Sam a second later. “Damn it, fuck you, Wilson.”

“Better luck next time, man,” Sam teased again before looking at Bucky. “I’m very much surprised you didn’t bring Y/n back with you from wherever you both were spending yet another day together at.”

“She has her last final today,” Bucky said right after, Sam and Steve staring at him in a playful disbelief. “What is it?” 

“So if she didn’t have a test to deal with, she’d be here,” Steve stated the obvious implication behind Bucky’s response.

“Well– I mean–” Bucky tried to find some defense, but it was more than useless at this point. 

Sam and Steve laughed together again.

“I can’t believe we’re finally gonna witness you two get together,” Sam said before standing up and also grabbing himself a soda from the fridge. 

Bucky started walking over to his room, “I think I’m done with this conversation now. I’ll catch you guys later.”

Sam and Steve teased Bucky from the living room as he closed his door behind him. He didn’t want to admit it to them because he knew they’d only call him ‘loverboy’ about 500 more times before he did anything about it, but he did have some sort of feelings for you. He didn’t know how to describe it, nor did he even realize he was falling in love, but he couldn’t picture anyone else by his side. He loved you, he knew that he did. All he needed to figure out was if you felt the same way.

About 2 hours later, you opened the door to Bucky’s room and peeked your head in to see if he was awake. He was sitting on his bed reading a book, one you had recommended to him, and looked more than invested before he caught you in his peripheral vision.

Looking up, he smiled at the sight of you. 

“Hey, bunny,” he said softly, patting the space next to him before you crawled into his bed with him, receiving your usual forehead kiss. “How are you feeling?”

“Happy to be done with this semester,” you rubbed your left eye before leaning your head on his shoulder, though still looking up at him. “Ready to go back home?”

“And spend every single living minute of every day with each other? Absolutely,” he responded, repeating your words from the deal you had made. 

You both spent some time together before grabbing all of the things you needed and driving back home for the holidays. Sam and Steve were joining you, since your families had planned a big holiday celebration this year and they were too excited hearing about it to then miss out on all the activities.

Winter recess went by faster than you expected. Spending the entire time in a huge cabin Bucky’s father used to rent out, you enjoyed every single minute of it. 

Not to mention, you and Bucky were feeling more than good about each other. You both found yourselves in a weird, romantic tension that neither of you had the bravery to address, but neither of you minded. 

“I told you I was busting my ass at the end of this,” you reminded Bucky playfully, as you both laid in extremely cold snow after skiing down a hill. 

“And I told you I’d catch you if you fall, bunny,” he reminded you this time, staring up at you as he caged you in his arms on top of him.

After he pulled his ski goggles off, you caught yourself staring into his eyes that were a lot bluer in contrast to the white of the snow.

He stared back at you, looking down at your lips a few times as he caught his breath from the fall, his lips slightly parted and letting the visible air out of his mouth.

“We should head back, I think,” you said in a loud whisper. 

He nodded, snapping himself out of his thoughts. “Yeah, bunny, let’s head back.”

You and Bucky had spent every day and night together as promised: doing more winter activities than you could count on both of your hands, showing Sam and Steve around when they nagged you about leaving them to fend for themselves, enjoying family time together, and even always sleeping in the same bed. 

It felt different this time. By the end of the mini vacation, you were more than certain of your feelings for Bucky. Those long weeks spent without him had opened your eyes a bit to the idea, but the aftermath had solidified it. You had a good feeling he felt the same way too, which only made you feel better about how everything had unfolded.

At the end of your trips, your families always held a huge party, inviting every relative possible. You always enjoyed an excuse to get dressed up and do your makeup, especially since those moments never came around too often. 

Checking yourself out in the mirror, you wore a sleek, black dress that complimented your figure really well. You had done your makeup to your liking, sporting your hair in your favorite updo. 

Walking out to where everyone was mingling, Bucky immediately spotted you. He was wearing a black button-down with black slacks and black shoes. His hair was a bit overgrown now after not seeing a barber in about three weeks, but it suited him. He saw you aimlessly looking around, messing with your fingers like you usually did when you were anxious and felt too alone. He excused himself from the relatives next to him before walking over to you, creeping up a bit behind you.

“Hi, pretty bunny,” he whispered lowly in your ear from behind, making you immediately turn around to see your best friend with a grin on his face. “You look so beautiful.”

Feeling the blood rush to your cheeks, you smiled slightly. “Thank you, Jamie,” you accepted his compliment, something you were always most comfortable doing with him, knowing he was never insincere with them. “You look very handsome.”

“Thank you, bab– I mean, bunny,” he corrected himself quickly.

“Baby again, huh?” you teased, recognizing that he had made that slip up a few times in the last week.

“They both end in e sounds, can you blame me?”

You shook your head with a smile. “Nice save, Barnes.”

He kissed your forehead lightly. “You know you love me,” he said as he shoved his hands in his pockets, both of his thumbs sitting on the outside. “Just like I love you.”

“Yeah, about that,” you said, gaining a weird courage to break the ice. “Can we tal–”

“Bucky, Ma needs you in the kitchen,” Rebecca interrupted you, and though you could tell that Bucky was more than curious about what you were gonna say, he let her know he’d be on his way.

“Meet me in the foyer in 10?” Bucky asked, not wanting to forget about or miss your impending conversation. 

You nodded and gave him a smile. “Go check on your mom, honey,” you patted his chest lightly before he kissed you on the cheek and disappeared into the crowd. 

You wished your timing wasn’t that faulty.  Exhaling a breath you didn’t know you were holding, you felt a hand land on your shoulder. Steve looked down at you, wearing a navy blue suit that complimented the blue in his eyes. 

“So… are you finally gonna tell him?” the tall blonde asked you, making you furrow your eyebrows, wondering how he was even able to gather your thoughts.

“How did you even know?” you asked him, knowing you hadn’t mentioned anything to him or Sam.

“C’mon, Y/n, it’s been three weeks of you being milliseconds from sucking each other’s faces off in front of everyone,” he joked lightly, making your eyes widen. “Plus, you’ve been stuttering around him more often.”

You scoffed, remembering Steve could just about read anyone like a book somehow. “How exactly do you get so good at doing that?”

“I’m always good at what I do,” he said with a playful wink. “So are you gonna tell him?”

“Yeah, he asked to meet me in the foyer,” you sighed once again. “But what if he doesn’t tell me how he fe–”

“No second doubts, Y/n,” he stopped you before you could convince yourself out of trying, placing his hands on your shoulder and leaning down a bit. “You got this. Go get him.”

“Thanks, Stevie,” you said, pulling him into a quick hug and saying a quick but temporary goodbye before walking over to the foyer. 

You honestly weren’t even sure of what you were going to tell Bucky, though you knew it’d come to you as soon as you saw him. Even with your nerves surrounding your feelings for him, you somehow knew he’d make you feel more at ease any day. 

You were a few minutes early, pacing slightly before Bucky eventually walked into your space. He didn’t look nervous at all, which did calm you down a bit. He was usually quite the overthinker whenever someone needed to have a talk with him, so you were glad he didn’t get that impression from you.

“Hey, bunny,” he said with that same grin on his face, almost like he knew what you were about to say. You wouldn’t be surprised if he did, but you were nervous nonetheless. “You wanted to talk?”

“Hi, Jamie,” you said, taking in a deep breath and a long pause before you finished compiling your thoughts properly. “I know we’ve never talked about this exactly in all the time we’ve known each other, but… I don’t really know how to say it if I’m being honest with you, but I kinda–”

“I love you.”

You stared up at him as he cut you off, a bit of confusion running through your system which ultimately rendered you frozen. “Huh?”

“I love you, Y/n,” he repeated. You weren’t exactly unaware that he loved you, considering you both said it all the time, but the sudden reminder during the conversation left you confused. 

“I love you too, Bucky, but–”

“No, I love you,” he cut you off once again. “I’m in love with you.”

You felt relief consume your body, not even realizing you had wanted to hear those words more than anything. Tears glossing over your eyes already, you let out a breath. “Really?”

“I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life,” he assured you, cupping your face like he usually did, though his eyes held more adoration for you than they ever had before. “I love you, I’ve always loved you. I was just stupid enough to try to convince myself that you weren’t in front of me this whole time.”

A tear of joy slipped down your cheek, which Bucky wiped away immediately. Looking into his eyes and being in his arms, you felt so comfortable, like this was where you were meant to be. 

“I love you too, Bucky, so much.”

“Yeah? You mean it?” he asked, wanting you to repeat yourself just so he could hear it once more.

“I do,” you assured. “I love you. I’m in love with you.”

He smiled down at you before pulling you in and attaching his lips to yours in the most passionate kiss either of you had ever experienced. You kissed for a bit, the both of you moving in sync with each other, before hearing a wave of applause come from the end of the hallway.

You and Bucky both pulled apart as you stared back at almost everyone staring back at the both of you, your cheeks red with a bit of embarrassment.

“It’s about fucking time!” Rebecca emphasized as everyone cheered in agreement.

You shook your head as you looked at Bucky, who was more than unfazed at the gesture.

“What did you do, Barnes?” you asked, knowing he was up to no good.

“I may have planned this all out, baby,” he said, proud of his actions. You weren’t surprised in the slightest, but you were still in disbelief.

You shook your head. “You are so–”

Bucky interrupted you with another kiss, which you pulled back from to argue again before he kissed you another time. Everyone made their way towards you, Sam and Steve clapping Bucky on the shoulders after you both pulled away.

Winnifred found her way next to you and Bucky, placing her hand on the back of his neck and looking up at him.

“I’m glad I won’t have to worry about you bringing another random girl in my house again,” she poked fun at her son, but he just pulled her in for a hug, thanking her about a million times.

Everyone then walked back to the original party space, you and Bucky remaining more inseparable than before for the rest of the night.

---

thank you so much for reading! <3

tags: @calwitch @buchanansbaby @sweetwritingfanficfriend @youngcollectorpeach @learisa @missvelvetsstuff @avoyen1998 @dreamerglassesgirl @eclecticpatrolroadlawyer @lexhalstead3

#bucky angst #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky x you #bucky barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky imagine #bucky fic

[karkatbug]

🦀🕶️🫂

A tight, hot sensation works its way along Dave’s arms and sits at the pads of his fingers, which he taps restlessly against the cool, waxed wood table of their local coffee shop. He continues the motion despite his classmate’s evident irritation, hoping the contact would somehow encourage the feeling to pass through his fingers and onto the table via osmosis. It’s a familiar tension after enduring copious amounts of stress. Assignments, exams, working part-time. His social life, hobbies and habits. College had a knack for narrowing time and forcing life into a bottleneck. If you’re lucky enough to come out the other side alive, you’re left an exhausted shell of yourself, stiffly trying to relax your shoulders and convincing yourself that’s all you need and are totally fine now. Booking a back massage was pussy shit. No way in hell was he ever gonna let some man rub oil on him and get all touchy feely with his nude bod, no the fuck thanks.

Not to mention things were good. He’s quite literally in a better place. There was no reason to be rigid with stress now when he wasn’t going through anything like back then. Sadly logic did little to work out the knots in his shoulders. 

“Mind over matter my ass,” Dave mumbles to himself.

“What’s with you?” Karkat demands. “You’ve been fidgeting all fucking day. All week, actually! Usually I let your human quirks slide but at this point I’m starting to get worried.”

Dave winces at the other’s raised voice.

“I’m fine, dude,” he says quietly, hoping to lead Karkat by example. “Finish your thingy.”

“Our thingy,” Karkat corrects. Dave huffs and glances back down at his laptop screen. A word document is open, and Karkat’s cursor flashes where he stopped typing. “And I’m not writing another word until you tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong, man.” Dave forces himself back into his quiet facade—fixing his calm along with his posture. They work some more. He grits his teeth when a leg begins to bounce. God how he’d love to crawl out of his skin right now. Instead, he sits up straight, grabs the side of the table and twists one way, repeating the motion as he does the other. His back pops both times. He lets out a satisfied sigh. 

It’s still not enough. 

“That’s the third time you’ve done that,” Karkat notes. His eyes are fiery despite the lack of red. Dave is one of the few who know about his blood color. He knows they’ll kick in a few years from now, and yet sometimes Dave can feel the color on him. Or maybe he’s projecting. It is his favorite, after all. The color. Not the troll.

Karkat pushes the screen of his laptop down as he points an accusatory finger at the restless human sitting across from him. “You’ve also rubbed your neck twenty seven separate occasions in this past hour. You’ve kicked me in the shin twelve times trying to stretch those freakishly long appendages you call legs. I’ve heard your back pop more times than Egbert’s fucking “grandma” and I lived with them for an entire year!”

“Why did you put quotations around grandma?”

“My point is what the fuck is happening to you? Are you about to molt? You’re acting like your frail skin is about to rip open.”

“Your inexplicable obsession with me is duly noted, and flattered as I may be that you watch me like a hawk—sorry, a talonscreecher— you can park those observations back at the Target parking lot you were at just this morning along with that awful thing on your wrist that you bought from there.”

Karkat tugs his long sleeve over his wristwatch with a scowl and flips Dave off.

“I usually exercise,” Dave explains, figuring he was one more digression away from Karkat finally deciding to kick him back for all the times earlier, most of which were definitely intentional points of contact on his end. “And I haven’t been able to for almost two weeks now because of—” he gestures to his laptop, the cafe they’re in and the campus visible outside the window they’re sitting by. “Our muscles get stiff and shit if we don’t move. It’s kind of unbearable for me.”

“Well, go! Go run a lap and come back!”

“What did we say about asking people to fulfill your furry kinks? I know our recently established friendship is cool and all but I’m not moirailling with you, dude. Next thing I know you’re going to ask me to get on my knees and bark—” Dave sucks in his breath and clenches his teeth, fighting the instinct to yelp following the sharp pain in his shin.

“Fuck off, Strider! Suffer in that meatsack for all I care.”

“I jog at ass in the morning or in the middle of the night, there is no in between.”

“Those are our peak cram hours.”

“I know! That's why I haven't been able to go!” Dave exclaims. “I hate feeling watched while I workout.” That’s not incriminating to admit, right? Most people hate the gym for the very same reason. There’s no way Karkat’s tragic-past detector would go off.

“‘Cause of your Bro?”

Dammit.

“No,” Dave utters stubbornly while raising his knee for easier access to rub his throbbing leg. “Can’t a guy be a little self-conscious when asked to run around his school in tight jeans and a baggy hoodie at peak hours? Can’t a troll accept that nothing will fix me right now besides getting on my stomach, spreading my legs and praying some forklift certified fuck accidentally gets in a steamroller and runs me over?”

“Jesus, Dave. If it’s that bad… just let me sit on you!”

Dave’s mind is pulled in so many different directions that for once in his life, he’s at a loss for words. The imagery, one he’ll never admit to having, even if burnt at the stake, takes hold. It’s so vivid in his mind that he closes his laptop with an abrupt snap and shoves it into his backpack.

“I think we’re done here.”

“Humans do it all the time!” Karkat continues. “You lie on the couch and your friend sits on your back, right? John and Jade fucked with me like this all the time but they’d make me do it back. They said it feels good.”

“You have got to remember that those two are outliers when it comes to what is considered ‘normal’ by human standards.”

“Right, because you’re a sensible being and should be considered the standard life form for your race.”

“You’re not convincing me to let you sit on my back, dude.”

“Fine, but where the fuck do you think you’re going?”

“Home?” Dave shifts out of the booth and shoulders his backpack. 

“No the fuck you’re not! We’re not even halfway done with this paper!”

“I’ll bullshit something tonight.”

Karkat follows him, protesting the entire time. Dave tries and fails to shake him off. The sticky heat of the summer has yet to take hold of the city. Accustomed as he may be, Dave never looks forward to it, and the dread along with his current bodily aches makes him clench his teeth and curl his fists. He snapped at Karkat once, two years ago, in the summer. He was in a bad mood. Sweat-slicked hair framed his features. The humidity sat heavy in the air and made his clothes cling to the small of his back. He was tired, his brain had reached capacity after back-to-back lectures. The sun drained what little energy he had left, so when Karkat tried to lecture him about his romantic life, embarrassing him in front of their friends, he was genuinely mad. They weren’t close then, but were in each other’s circle. Dave had regretted it instantly. Karkat was a good dude. Sensitive in a way that made Dave cringe, sure, and outright obnoxious at times, but it was from a place of caring. He was fooled at first, with the way the other talked and typed. Karkat Vantas came off aggressive, loud and arrogant, but in actuality was all bark no bite (though his throbbing shin would argue otherwise). When he apologized, Karkat hugged him tight and everything seemed to magically get better after that. 

Dave’s pace slows to a stop once they round the corner, officially off campus and away from the crowds of students. 

“Sorry,” he blurts when the other stumbles to a stop to avoid crashing into him. “For getting all pissy.”

Karkat raises a brow and tilts his head to the side.

Dave uncurls his fists and tries to relax his shoulders. He doesn’t want to be uncool like back then, two years ago. Not to the troll he now knows well. Someone he genuinely likes despite pretending otherwise.

“It’s not anything you said or did.” Why was communicating so hard? And so fucking awkward? Why did he have to explain his feelings instead of relying on the people around him to telepathically understand what was going on in his head?

“Yeah, I know,” Karkat snorts. “You just need to book a fucking massage.”

“Phrasing,” Dave smirks.

“No, Dave. I know what I said.”

Dave flushes at the other’s nonchalance. He hates when Karkat has the drop on him. 

“I hear you can request a happy ending from some plac—mph.”

Dave gets him into a headlock with one arm, the other going over his mouth. There’s a familiarity to the action. “Be glad there’s no table to suplex you over,” Dave threatens. He releases Karkat the moment he detects the other open his mouth to bite him. Yet another familiar action. 

They tussle for a while longer until they’re giggling as they pull away. The distance between them lasts only a brief moment. On a whim, Dave reaches out and pulls Karkat back in, this time for an embrace. Karkat squeezes him tight. It knocks the air out of Dave in the best way possible. Karkat pops his back and nearly lifts him off his tippy toes. God he loved this fucker’s hugs.

“Did that help?” Karkat asks with a small smile, sharp teeth peeking shyly over his lips.

“I’m not sure,” Dave lies, chest tightening at the sight. Shit. “Can you do that again?”

Karkat embraces him with all he’s got. Shit, shit, shit. Dave fights back the groan. He’d never hear the end of it if he made a single sound in front of Karkat. But he can’t lie, this shit felt good. He wraps his arms around Karkat and hugs back. It becomes a competition. They embrace each other until Dave is certain one of them is going to pass out from lack of oxygen.

They release each other with dizzied laughs and crash back into each other, initiating another round. This time Dave reaches around Karkat’s waist, leading the other to lock his arms around Dave’s shoulders. Karkat squeezes the tension right out of those muscles. Dave strengthens his grip until that tight, hot sensation that had wormed its way along his arms and to the pads of his fingers dissipates completely. 

They stumble apart with dopey grins, wordlessly resuming their walk home with nothing to fill the air between them but the sound of passing cars and chirping birds. He should have known. All it took was Karkat hugging him tight. Everything always seemed to magically get better after that. 

#accidental fanfic #homestuck #davekat #dave strider #karkat vantas #ask bug #hsfanfic #1.9k words im getting better at small one shots hooray #long post

[fluorenaliy]

Levi ackermen x scared!reader

Words count: 880

Tags: Levi ackermen x fem!reader, sfw, boyfriend levi.

S/T : I wrote this when I couldn't sleep at night when I watched a scary video about screaming ghosts LMAO

It was late at night and the Survey Corps building was filled with sleepy silence, but Captain Levi did not taste this peace. He was still working on the pile of papers on his desk while drinking a cup of tea to help him concentrate, but his concentration was broken by a knock on the door of his room.

Levi raised an eyebrow, who would come to his private room at this late hour?. Well come to think of it there is only one person who does this...it's you.

"come in"

Levi leaned on his office chair, watching intently for the knocker, and when the door opened, as he expected, it was you

"Another nightmare?"

A soft look was directed at you from Levi as you hugged your pillow.

"Busy?"

You hung your feet at the door, hesitating to enter his room. His answer was to answer your hesitation, but always his answer to you would be…

"No I'm not busy"

Levi looked at the stack of papers in his hands and began shuffling them to put them aside to focus all his attention on you

"I thought you were asleep"

Your soft voice asked Levi after you closed the door, then you headed towards him until you stood next to him and threw the soft pillow on the floor and sat in your lover’s lap, which was softer than that pillow.

“You know it's not good to stay up at this late hour.”

Your calm voice made Levi's heart beat with longing. Then he sighed, looked into your eyes with love, and his hands wrapped around your small, soft waist.

"Then why are you still awake? Hmm?"

A small laugh left Levi's mouth as he tilted you left and right in his lap

"Like you said, I had a nightmare."

Shyly, you hid your face in his shoulder while your hands found their way over his muscled chest, allowing the warmth of his heartbeat to reach your fingers.

“I don’t understand, why your nightmares are about ghosts you haven’t met and not about titans that you know how terrifying they are.”

You can notice his teasing tone between the gentleness of his tone that no one can hear except you, while his fingers run through your soft hair to pat your head.

"Leviii!! We've talked about this a lot! It's just that I'm not afraid of titans because I know their weak point, but ghosts are a completely different matter!"

You pulled your head from his shoulder and looked at him, and what met your mad face was a slight smile with a gentle look at you.

"Have you met any of them before?"

His question made you unable to respond, and he had no choice but to laugh and pull you down from his lap.

"as I expected"

He shook his head with a chuckle, then stood up from his chair and gently pushed you forward towards his bed

"Stop teasing me about this."

You blushed shyly and folded your arms across your chest as you watched your boyfriend, who took off the top of his clothes and then sat on the bed with a sigh.

“Okay, okay, just come so I can sing you a lullaby or something.”

He didn't stop teasing you, but opened his arms to take you into his warm embrace, and you couldn't resist diving into the warmth of your love.

Levi blew on the candle that was lighting his room, and all that remained was the faint moonlight entering through the window of his room. Then he lay down next to you, with your back against the wall and in front of you, Levi's naked chest that covered your entire body with its warmth.

You couldn't help but smile and bury your face in Levi's chest, as he wrapped his left arm around your waist and the other became a pillow for both of your heads.

"If it weren't for you, I would never have slept."

Levi whispered, looking at your soft head buried in his warm chest

"You should thank me then."

You raised your head and his warm eyes met yours under the soft moonlight, then Levi smiled and placed kisses on your forehead while playing with your hair strands with his right hand.

"Thank you"

Levi whispered, then you smiled shyly and hid your face in his chest, which made you hear the sound of his heartbeat increasing, and because of your adorable action, Levi laughed lightly and began to rub your back with the palm of his left hand.

"I love you dear"

Your voice, buried in his chest, came out to his ears, which turned red with embarrassment

"Shh, go to sleep"

Levi squeezed you in his embrace and closed his eyes, then whispered to you

"Me too.."

After that, the room became quiet, and all you could hear was the sound of your boyfriend’s heartbeat and his calm breathing, which served as a soothing tone that helped you dive into a deep sleep.

Next time you sleep in Levi's room, you don't have to bring your pillow, which will be left thrown in the middle of his room, because his arms were dedicated to becoming a pillow for its owner's favorite head. Which was yours..

#aot #attack on titan #captain levi #fanfic #levi ackerman #levi aot #levi attack on titan #levi x reader #levi x y/n #levi x you

[theneighborhoodwatch]

Serious question, not trying to start a fight: If you're aware of the possibility of Wally and Home's relationship being like that of family, and you've made it clear you don't ship incest, why risk shipping them together at all, even if it's in a "toxic yuri" sort of way?

traffic was so bad that i was an hour late to class so now you all get to watch me poke this bear. response under the cut for discussions of familial abuse, incest, and a brief mention of csa.

serious answer: the home that exists as a representation of a past that never was/never will be again, or as a representation of The House Of American Suburbia Fame built with the intent of superseding the need for/being directly responsible for all of its inhabitant's other relationships (platonic, romantic, familial, etc.) existing, and the home that exists as a representation Specifically of an abusive family member, exist in two separate planes of reality to me. these planes are not above each other, i think. they are on the same level of plausibility. but they do not overlap, and the fact is that i am simply much more interested in the former than the latter. i realize that "i think the more popular fanon interpretation of them as parent and child is boring" is kind of a flippant answer to a question as heavy as this but, well. i do think that interpretation is pretty boring lol. also probably doesn't help that i see it get used to infantilize wally a lot. a mutual obsession whose end goal of total social supersession can never be fulfilled without coming at a great cost to one or both parties is something i find much more compelling, and gives much more agency to both parties.

in the hypothetical event that these two realities Do end up intersecting, however - even in the event that they intersect in a way where i could interpret their dynamic to be that of incestuous abuse - well. i would simply no longer be comfortable calling it a ship! that does not mean i would no longer be interested in analyzing their relationship; horror is all about exploring the Unpleasantries of life, after all. but the approach and the language would change; i would no longer be comfortable exploring it through the lens of shipping, i personally find that pretty distasteful. i believe that just because it is A lens through which people have analyzed that type of dynamic before does not mean it is the Ideal lens - far from it, in my experience as a (former) child with sexual trauma who grew up on the internet. but i digress. the fact of the matter right now is that nothing has happened that would cause such a shift in behavior for me. ergo, i intend to live it up for as long as i can and declare that wally and home's relationship is both one that cannot be defined by paltry human terms and one so intense and passionate that it will also go up in flames bright enough to make fleetwood motherfucking mac collectively fall to their knees and weep.

also, a funnier but still serious alternate answer: i spent nearly my entire adolescence as a husk of a person, and what ultimately got me out of it was getting into smile for me at age 18 - and subsequently, the rest of yugo limbo's work. i was reborn and reshaped in the objectum trenches. this did not necessarily make me objectum in turn, but i feel i owe something to that crowd as a result.

#anonymous #ask #soapboxing #i'm not putting this in the fandom tags and im not making it rebloggable bc my goal is to hold my audience hostage #not get assassinated

[oneshotnewbie]

Part four of rabbit hole (Special Victims Unit) please? It's so good, you got me hooked up and now I need the whole series or else I will eat a 🛌

⚠️Trigger Warning⚠️ This one-shot includes the topic of domestic abuse, blood and gaslighting. The plots are presented. If this triggers you too easily or you just can´t handle the subjects, I urge you NOT to read this work. I am NOT embellishing this topic under any circumstance. Read at your own risk.

Taglist: @Marvelfan0573 @technotic-prophecy @setsuna1415

---

A loud, sadistic laughter from the kitchen drew your attention and you gave up on trying to rip the cord on your tied hands with your already bloody fingers. The weight of shoes on your old rattling wooden floor caused a vibration throughout your body and shivers started to cover your body in distress.

He made his way to you- slowly like a predator about to ambush it´s prey. In his right fist he held your phone that was smeared with your own blood, the display cracked from hitting the ground as he waved it in front of your face. "I managed to disable the location tracker. Funny that you´re still using your deceased dog´s birth date as your password."

You looked at the phone, and watched it light up with worried phone calls from Olivia. But after the initial surge, the notifications slowed to a trickle and the messages began to flow after another. You watched intently, trying to read each and every message to soak up any personal information you were left with.

Henry has set the phone up out of your reach, where you were powerless to reply but always able to read what was being sent. He turned the phones volume all the way up, resulting in torturous pings every time a message was being delivered and watched you cry.

Soft sobs stole over your beautiful lips and your entire, battered body trembled from the suppressed sounds. You closed your eyes, not wanting to see all the chaos in your apartment that was making your heart clench painfully.

"Please" you tried the impossible and humiliated yourself by begging him. "Let me go. I´m just giving you trouble."

"You don´t understand. You never understood me." For the first time ever, his enraged gaze turned sad and he really seemed to believe the madness he was spouting. His mood changed suddenly; that was his gift and you hated the ability to go from aggressive to lovable in a second. "I love you, Y/n. Even when you make mistakes. I hate myself for hurting you after punishing you- even then I love you."

You narrowed your eyes and tried to follow your ex-husband´s logic while trying to put your pain on the back burner. It no longer frightened you, maybe because the fact that you were still alive seemed like a sign after everything that had happened to you in the last few hours. Perhaps the level of cruelty that a woman could endure was fulfilled.

"No man who loves his wife does what you are doing."

"I´ve changed Y/n. I´ve been in therapy with a shrink who wasn´t that bad. He usually doesn´t take cases and if he does, only special ones." he said, rolling the words tenderly and carelessly off his smiling lips. "I´m just a habitual offender, according to him, when it comes to hitting my wife."

-You don´t hit her, you kill her. And with the beating you break her soul without which she is nothing more than a lifeless shell- you pondered to yourself and noticed how you struggled with your consciousness.

"No, you´re sick. An asshole eaten up by an inferiority complex. You´re trying to break my wings because you can´t take the fact that I don´t want and need you anymore." With that statement, which you didn´t manage to articulate properly due to the agitation, the fear came and with the fear the sub-machine gun in your chest started again.

"You bitch-" he yelled, threads of saliva flying into your face from afar as he ran towards you in a rage; grabbing you hard by the throat. Henry pulled you forwards with force and the cable around your wrists bursted from the pull as he threw you onto the ground, back first, and you screamed out as the slivers of glass pierced your back.

You gasped in his arms, unable to take a single breath- his fingers pressing into your thin and pale skin, already imprinting red fingertips on it. You had seen your ex-husband angry countless times, often to the point of incandescence. But you had never seen the aggression flash so intensely in his eyes. You may have hit a sore spot in him with your statement, which made him start to doubt himself.

Your bloody fingernails clawed at his hands, scraping the surface of that skin to convince him to let go, but he squeezed even harder, banging your head onto the floor countless times. The kicking and scratching of your legs in the shards was in vain. The ground beneath your feet, which you hoped to one day stand on again, began to crumble and you lost the strength to fight.

You were too weak and powerless. And you were more scared than ever. But you were ready to die; closing your eyes in faint, clenching your lids so tight you thought they would never open again and stopping your attempts to escape- you had braced yourself for the worst of pain, including death.

But then his sweaty and shaky hands began to pull away from your bonded skin, leaving you with no air to pass your crushed windpipe. A short and forced cough escaped your throat and was drowned out by a sonorous one that caused you even more pain.

Wordlessly, Henry fixated himself on the smeared blood on his knuckles and ran his fingers over it playfully before moving up and stepping over you like you were nothing but garbage bags standing in the way.

"Your death is not my aim and killing you is not my desire. I punish your ignorance and selfishness in leaving me." he clicked his tongue to confirm his reasoning. "Yes, that´s worse than a quick death if I let you live and you have to walk through this shattered life."

His real pleasure, after countless humiliations, was to kill every last glimmer of hope in the individuals he tormented.

You lay there, your eyes wide open and still gasping for air as he disappeared into the kitchen to get duct tape to tape your mouth shut. He must have had enough of your talking.

Stuck in your own apartment, you couldn´t think of an answer to the question of why you existed and you cursed God for putting you through this experience twice. But most likely, God didn´t exist- no valid, all-powerful being could condone what Henry did and probably would do to you.

---

Tired and drained, Olivia opened her eyes and stared sullenly at the phone gripped tightly in her hand. Immediately and without hesitation, she unlocked it half asleep, looking hopefully at the display; waiting for a message from you.

"Damn it." a heavy sigh escaped her dry lips and her shoulders sagged. Thousands of messages she had sent within the last evening had arrived and been read, but there was no confirmation for her that you were fine.

Her pale hand clutched the back of the couch she was lying on. She hadn´t heard from you since the incident two days ago- your connection remained silent. Since you´ve known each other, there hasn´t been a day that you haven´t spoken, which also made her suspicious.

The brunette took a deep breath, rubbed her eyes and threw the phone on the table. Her gut still spoke volumes and told her to be sure that you were fine so she got up and got ready to check in with you to see for herself that you were okay.

Arriving at your apartment in less than half an hour, she lifted her slender hand and knocked briefly. For a moment, when the silence weighed heavily, she longed for an answer. Heavy footsteps, mixed with an unclear clinking under them, approached the wooden door and when it opened carefully and only a crack, she took a deep breath and wanted to say something, but the sentence got stuck in her throat.

"Oh hello." the iron look of the almost black eyes looked dull at the woman in front of him, registering who he was looking at and nervously brushing the tousled and unwashed strands of hair out of his face. "Benson.. am I right? What do you want?"

"Captain, yes. I want to speak to Y/n." her voice was harsh and broke through any silence the hallway had to offer. Her legs were planted firmly on the floor and she spoke with an authority that made him increasingly uncomfortable. "She is very busy at the moment. Can I tell her something?"

She smiled mischievously as her gaze rose from the floor. "Yeah.. tell her that the violent suspect from out recent case soon gonna be a dead man." she spoke dryly but loudly, certain that you were held by him in your own apartment and knowing that you had heard and understood what she was trying to tell you.

Olivia wanted to free you from your living nightmare immediately, but she couldn´t do anything against him alone; risking your and her life on top. She didn´t know what danger awaited her if she tried to break in alone. Nor did she know what condition you were in.

#olivia benson x you #oliviabenson x reader #olivia benson x reader #olivia benson imagines #olivia benson imagine #olivia benson #law and order fanfiction #law & order: special victims unit #law and order special victims unit #law and order svu #law and order #law and order imagine #law and order fic #law & order svu #law & order #oliviabenson x you #specialvictimsunit #special victims unit #x reader #svu x reader #x you #oneshot #imagine #imagines #fanfic #fanfiction #svu fanfiction #fanfics #female reader

[progressive-waves-art]

Character lineup, Transitus historical redesign edition. In their sepia tone versions, in actual artwork they’d be drawn against some pretty vibrant painted backgrounds. Come back to me on that. Been meaning to do this for a while!

Have some design notes:

Daniel - Third from left. In @hawthorn-crow’s words: "like a stiff breeze would blow him over." His shoulders/upper body have deliberately been scaled down from that of real-life Tommy Karevik. I don’t know how else to say this but if I were Henry I wouldn’t be easing around in my brother’s personal life if he could drop kick me directly into the sun. Looks pretty normal, all things considered. The "standout" trait comes from the trust fund kid status: his clothes have a LOT of variety. Literally a different jacket, vest and tie almost every single scene in a period where that was not something easily attainable. Common thing between all of the ‘normal’ outfits is the little watch chain, somewhat prominently displayed.

Abby - Third from right. The exact opposite as Daniel; cycles through two or three outfits maximum outside of her work uniform before 1884. Her box braids are thicker than the original design. Has a pair of emerald drop earrings; gift from the himbo. As for the shoes, homegirl is working minimum 13-hour days, for Christ’s sake, put some treads on those industrial strength high heels. She likes quilting Why? Cause I said so and wanted her to have hobbies like human beings do. The dress shown here is one fabric/color all the way down, but the seams form a fun little pattern that looks nothing like fire haha what.

Henry - Second from left. Lots of age lines, grey streaks. Visibly much older than Daniel. Loads of aggressive angles, you want a sense of the douchebag aura from a distance. Literally Andrew Carnegie but with none of the redeeming qualities. Really narcissistic and intent on showing off his status and is thus obsessed with outward appearance. Sharply dressed and deliberately so. Flashy, patterned waistcoats and one very expensive and painstakingly tended to pair of sideburns.

Lavinia - Second from right. Same as Abby, just a few outfits to her name and sturdier shoes. Though she comes off to me as someone who has expensive tastes that can’t be pursued to their fullest extent. Don’t we all. Pays close attention to new fashion and alters her existing clothes (and hair) accordingly under budget. Is keen on appearing above her station, though not with any malicious intent. More just a desire to fit in and look nice.

Abraham - Far right. The beta version of Abraham of from the earbook bonus pages is peak and this is very heavily inspired by that. Has not purchased any major clothing items for himself since the mid 1860s; he’s got other priorities. Any new stuff is smaller, and usually cut from the same material as Lavinia’s skirts. Fabrics are worn out (along with their dyes) and lots of layers are worn as a result. Outermost layer that he wears pretty much everywhere on account of it being the only coat he has is a bleached and dyed Union army jacket.

Dee - Far left. Entire character is defined by being stuck in the past. Like Abraham his clothes are very 1860s based but in a more fashion forward and emotionally stunted, "I never got over my wife dying a d am making it my kids’ problem" way, as opposed to the much more reasonable "being impoverished" route. Hair is also very much mid-century and meant to look out of place next the shorter, clean-cut 70s/80s style that Henry has. ….old. Like basically on death’s door, he kicks the bucket almost immediately after Daniel does.

#ayreon #Just….transitus #man…. #So excited to have some genuine notes for their design that work within the era AND inform their characters it is POSSIBLE #tommy karevik #cammie beverly #paul manzi #amanda somerville #johanne james #dee snider #arjen lucassen #character design #character illustration #character sheet #Period drama #the gilded age #1880s #historical fashion #Lavinia’s arms look a little weird but whatever

[cdyssey]

Lies

Summary: When Barbara has a flat tire at her church, Melissa goes to help her. Of course she does. (Post-2x13).

CW: Religious Guilt, Alcohol, Emotional Infidelity/Infidelity

AO3 Link

—

Gerald Howard is the one who calls her.

It’s unscheduled, for sure, but not entirely unexpected.

He’s out-of-town on a work trip, and as such, he only calls Melissa when he’s gone, away, out-of-pocket, and unavailable.

When he has a slight variation of the same, old favor to ask of her. 

Take care of her for me, will you?

(Like she doesn’t already do so anyway.)

“‘Sup, Ger?” Melissa says around the toothpick clenched between her teeth, propping her phone against her ear with her shoulder. She’s just polished off the rest of her leftover steak from the other night, and now she’s in the process of making herself an excessivelyboozy bushwacker with every intention of getting buzzed.

Between the demands of the fundraiser and everyone and their cousins either fighting or eye-fucking, it’s been a long damn week at Abbott Elementary.

Melissa had mostly stayed out of it, except to help two grown men arbitrate custody rights over a cat and give Janine a little unsolicited dating advice that may have accidentally just boiled down to women are hot… but still, all of the collected tension gradually sucked the air from the hallways and kept her on edge—that fine line between general wariness and hypervigilance that she tends to straddle on a daily basis.

So Mama undoubtedly needs a drink… or two… to help ease her into the weekend. She’d been planning on stripping down to her undergarments and curling up in her bed to watch basketball, sipping on her bushwacker through a bright green bendy straw…

When Gerald calls, though—sometime a little after six—she gets a gut feeling that these best laid plans might just have to wait until later.

“Nothing much, Mel,” he returns, and she can hear the tired smile in his voice, his gentle fondness for her, his familiar care. “Still in Jersey for a couple of days. This job’s taking a little longer than expected…” 

Gerald’s a welder and he sometimes gets sent out-of-state for the odd contract or two. Decent money. Effed up hours. It’s been happening with more and more frequency lately too, driving his wife nearly up the wall and through it. 

“He’s never home anymore,” she’d only recently complained. They’d been sitting on the sagging couch in the break room together, waiting for the morning news to come on. No one else had arrived yet, and so their shoulders just touched, the soft lines of their thighs.

Side-by-side. 

Parallel to each other.

Always.

And Barbara had idly played with her ornate wedding ring, twisting and twisting it around the base of her finger, while Melissa had simply watched, mesmerized by the way that the diamonds glittered in the harsh light.

“And even when he is home… even when we’re in the same room—" She had gone on before abruptly stopping, biting her plump lower lip, visibly conscious that she was about to reveal too much.

Even to Melissa. 

Perhaps especially to her.

For all that the two of them shared between and with one another, somewhere along the way of their nearly thirty year friendship, they had articulated an implicit rule to never quite discuss the intimacies of their love lives anymore. 

That particular conversation nearly always devolved into one of their rare and exceedingly bitter fights.

(You don’t know him like I do, they’ve both said to each other before.)

(Why do you care so much?)

“Mm,” Barbara had only murmured, shaking her perfectly coiffed head, “forgive me, Melissa—you shouldn’t have to be subjected to my marital woes before the bell has even rung…”

In that moment, as Barbara expertly smoothed her troubled brow over with a sad and beatific smile, Melissa hadn’t dared transgressed their personal golden rule of noninterference. Letting the other wallow, no matter how much it hurt to watch them suffer. Moreover, she knew from experience that there was nothing to say to that anyway—nothing, at least, that the older woman was ready to actually hear.

But in the absence of words—in the mutual understanding that they were not allowed to confront each other directly in that way—she reached over and laced Barbara’s slender fingers with her own, creating yet another contact point between them.

Shoulders.

Thighs.

Hands.

Barbara had permitted the intimate touch; she even closed her darkly framed eyes and leaned into it.

It was an innocuous indulgence that both of them could live with come the next morning.

“Oh, yeah, Jersey,” Melissa replies neutrally, finally taking the toothpick out of her mouth and lightly tossing it into the nearby trash can. “Barb said somethin’ about that.”

Granted, she can’t help but get one jab in, perhaps as recompense for all the times that she’s had to listen to Barbara endlessly complain about the circular problem, day-in and day-out: “She swears y’spend more time in a hotel than at home these days.”

She has no particular remorse for saying so; she knows this isn't exactly news to him.

“Occupational hazard,” Gerald mumbles sheepishly, his only reasonable defense, his go-to excuse, that same somethingshe’s pretty sure that both Howards tell themselves at night, incapable of admitting to anything else.

“I know,” Melissa frowns sympathetically because even still, despite her frustrations, she gets it.

She really does.

It took her and Joe years upon miserable years to ever 'fess up to the truth of what time had done to them and their once loving marriage—and even then, they could only do it when the barrel of their loaded histories were pressed against each other’s already bleeding skin. 

In the end, she couldn’t stand for him to even touch her.

They fought so much—every day and all the goddamn time. If it wasn’t about their abysmal finances, then it was about his booze problem, the way he drowned a particularly bad fire in whiskey. And if it was supposedly about his jealousy that men and women alike looked at her whenever they went out, then it was really about sexand their increasing lack of it thereof.

In the end, too selfish to ever go long without a good fuck, he cheated on her with Nina Santa Cruz, one of their mutual friends.

And that was that.

The trigger was pulled; there was nothing left to do except bury their vows in a shared grave and call it a goddamn waste.

They had loved each other.

Really.

But that’d been a long time ago, and they had been different people then.

(They had just been kids.)

“But, uh, listen… that’s kinda what I’m calling about anyway,” Gerald continues, his tone now hesitant, appropriately chastised. “Just got off the phone with Barbara and she said that she has a flat tire at our church. Bible Club tonight, y’know… I called my brother, but he won’t be able to help her out for another hour or so. Do you mind swinging by there and taking a look?”

She doesn’t even hesitate. 

“’Course,” she nods vigorously—only dimly aware that Gerald can’t see her—already moving, already raring to go. Barbara is in trouble. Barbara needs her. She unceremoniously shoves her blender glass with the unfinished bushwacker in the fridge, throws on a leather jacket and scarf, and unhooks her keys from their place on the wall. In the mad whirl and cacophonous rush, she almost misses his next response.

“Thank God—I knew you’d say yes,” he sighs in audible relief. “It’s funny. Barb seemed kind of reluctant to call you...”

“Huh?” The question comes out a little more forcefully than she had intended. Hurt even. (Melissa hates to admit it—how easily hurt that she gets.) She’s at the door that leads from her kitchen to the garage, her fingers tensed around the brass handle as she digests those thoroughly unexpected words. “What d’you mean by that?”

Gerald must hear the defensiveness in her tone because he scrambles to come up with a placating answer. 

“Oh, well, you know our Barb,” he chuckles nervously, and her stomach strangely twists at the choice phrasing. Not his Barb. Theirs. As though they have an equal claim to knowing her intimately: her husband and her... best friend. “So prideful… and she told me that you were busy doing something with Gary tonight.”

The strange assertion stops her short.

Not only is it explicitly untrue—(she hasn’t been out with Gary the Vending Machine Guy in ages)—but Barbara specifically knows that it’s untrue. In fact, just before they’d walked to their cars this afternoon, Melissa had told her what her plans were for the evening.

Nothing and jack squat.

Wanna come over for dinner?

It’d both been her way of making sure that Barbara wasn’t alone in her achingly empty house for yet another night while Gerald was gone… and also a subtle opportunity for her to check in with her after everything that had gone down with the fundraiser and Ava. Melissa has had a long week just being at the margins of everything, but Barbara, in the center of it and the thick, has had a hard one. 

There’s a crucial difference in the fact, but there has been precious little time for her to pull Barbara off to the side and ask her how she really feels about any of it. 

She got a sense, from how Ava and Barbara had been laughing together in the gym earlier today at the assembly, that they had at least patched things up; however, Melissa won’t be completely satisfied until she hears it from her friend’s mouth that she’s okay.

Barbara had politely refused her offer, had told her that she was going to Bible Club, but that she'd see her on Monday, girlfriend. And nothing had seemed amiss except for a vague tiredness in her eyes and perhaps a certain tightness in her lipstick coated smile that could have been just a trick of the light.

Clearly, though, something is up.

“Seriously, Mel, if you’re busy, don’t worry about it,” Gerald adds as she mulls this over in complicated silence. “Samuel will be able to get to her once he gets off of work, and there are probably still folks at the church who can keep her company…” 

“No,” Melissa says hastily, realizing that he’s trying to give her a generous out. “I’ve got it. Gary, uh, went home early.”

She’s not entirely sure why she’s playing into Barbara’s inexplicable lie—perhaps to spare her best friend the ignominy of being caught, perhaps because she wants to be the sole one to discover the truth, perhaps because she’s starting to get an inkling that whatever is going on is bigger than she’d originally assumed, and only she seems to realize this.

To recognize the warning signs.

Gerald is… well... absent.

“Oh, good,” comes a grateful reply, a thoroughly oblivious one. “Thank you again, Melissa. What would we ever do without you?”

“Excellent question,” she laughs heavily, shrugging a hand across the back of her neck.

The gesture does not warm her eyes.

— 

Some twenty-five minutes later, when Melissa pulls into the driveway of the Baptist church that’s a little less than ten miles away from Barbara’s house, she’s greeted with an utterly strange and estranging sight: a nearly empty parking lot, a vast and unlit building, and a dark silhouette sitting on the stone steps leading up to the white double doors—simply shivering in a long, silvery coat with a fur collar…

As she eases into the empty spot to the right of the familiar black sedan that’s parked directly in front of the stairs, her headlights rove over and mercilessly illuminate that tall and lonely figure.

Barbara Howard, ashen with the cold, squints and visors her eyes against the twin beams, her mouth rounded in a perfect ‘o’ of surprise.

She’s caught.

Apprehended.

And, just by the looks of her, clearly undone.

Melissa barely remembers to brake her car and turn the ignition off before she’s stumbling out of her door and into the biting air. Out of the corner of her eye, she can already tell that Barbara’s front right tire is indeed flat, but she’ll worry about that later. Knows how to put a spare on with her eyes closed.

There are bigger problems to deal with, far worse demons to bravely confront.

“What the hell are you doin’ out here, Barb?” She calls out, her voice nearly swept away by the wind. Folding her arms over her chest, she marches forward and forward still until she’s at the foot of the weathered staircase, and Barbara’s wide-eyed gaze is consuming her. Her painted lips are chapped, her cheeks noticeably hollow, and unmistakable tear tracks have vertically frozen on the sharply hewn planes of her face. “You’re freezin’ your ass off.” 

“Language, Melissa,” Barbara scolds reflexively, though the sound is vacant, lacking any real conviction. “We’re near the house of the Lord…” 

“Sorry.” She resists the urge to roll her eyes at the familiar sanctimony, recognizing that now is hardly the time. “You’re freezin’ your tush off. Is that better?” 

But she doesn’t receive a response, Barbara now determinedly looking somewhere over Melissa’s shoulder, plainly trying not to cry, so loathe to be vulnerable in front of anyone, eternally convinced that no one wants her emotional honesty, that they’ve come to expect the performance and the impeccable mask. 

Melissa gets it.

She really does.

Nine times out of ten, she feels the exact same way.

“Okay, okay, no more wisecrackin’ out of me,” she says, her voice softening, and she takes the last couple of steps between herself and Barbara at a jog. When she’s even with the other woman, she lowers herself down gently until they’re sitting as they always do—as they have historically done—brushing limbs. Shoulders. Hips. Thighs. It doesn’t escape Melissa’s notice that Barbara’s forgotten her gloves again, and her fingers are trembling where they're clasped in a neat temple next to her stomach.

Without hesitating, she peels off her own green scarf and methodically winds it around Barbara’s chilled hands like she’s bandaging a critical wound.

“So level with me here,” she goes on as she finishes the job, loosely tucking the ends away. Barbara only stares down at her now swaddled appendages, her eyes glazed over, her posture as unimpeachable as ever, shoulders squared, spine ramrod straight, like a perfect, porcelain doll. “You’re sitting outside in the cold in front of a completely dark church even though it’s barely seven o’clock. And your tire’s flat, but ya lie to your husband about why you don’t want me to come ‘n bail you out.” 

Barbara inhales sharply at this last part—at being called out for her fib—snapping out of her reverie as though stricken.

“Melissa, I—” She rasps, audibly horrified.

“—I’m not mad,” Melissa adds quickly, curling her hand around the other woman’s slender wrist and squeezing. It’s true enough. Any anger that she might have felt quickly dissipated upon seeing the kindergarten teacher on the steps, so sad and tired. Irrefutably broken. She’s never had it in her to kick a helpless creature when it’s down. “I just wanna understand. This isn’t like you…”

In the ensuing silence that follows this choice assertion, long and painfully loaded, the harsh wind eddies around them both. Melissa instinctively wants to encircle Barbara with her arms and shield her from it.

But she takes one look at her face, at the divot in her black brow, at the ruins of her ancient eyes just beneath, and immediately understands that the kindergarten teacher is barely feeling the cold right now, that whatever is hurting her springs from some deep well within her soul, spewing forth like a polluted spillage, gurgling and gushing.

Simply oozing.

An infection has settled, and it has made Barbara Howard absolutely sick. 

“Isn’t it, though?” Comes a quiet reply, faint and almost indistinguishable, but wrought with unmistakable bitterness. “I am all hypocrisy, Melissa… I’ve tried so hard to be good, to follow all of God’s carefully articulated edicts, and still fall short of His glory…”

“Is this about Ava?” Melissa guesses—perhaps a little too hastily. Even though she hasn’t heard all the details yet, she’s at least understood that Barbara’s fight with the principal had been about Ava playing dirty with the fundraiser and the older woman not liking it. “If it is, I’ll talk to her.”

And say what—she doesn’t exactly know. 

She doesn’t particularly see anything wrong with what Ava did in the first place. 

Hell, in her shoes, she would have done the same herself.

She has done the same herself. What Ava calls her  charisma, the Schemmentis just know as basic survivalism—whatever it takes to be the last shmuck standing.

But she’s desperate to solve the problem, to propose a solution that will make the woman next her stop looking so haunted. Barbara shakes her head, though, with more vehemence than she’s displayed through the entire conversation.

“No,” she says firmly, cutting her dark eyes at Melissa. “This isn’t about Ava… she… she actually made a lot of sense this week, perhaps being the first person to ever directly tell me that many of my moral boundaries come from a position of privilege—the luxury of never having had to learn better.”

It’s a charged sentence, one that the second-grade teacher doesn’t have to dwell on very long for it to click. Barbara Howard is undoubtedly a sheltered woman in many respects, having never needed one goddamn reason to play in the mud as she had once so indelicately put it, cutting Melissa to the quick. She’d been discounted by so many people in her life that it’d almost become background noise—the way that every Tom, Dick, and Harry had no trouble in presuming the worst of her. But never in a million years had she ever thought the same sort of dismissive rhetoric would ever come from Barbara, her closest friend in the entire world.

Barbara, who had always believed in her.

Barbara, who thought her capable.

Resourceful.

She supposes, though, the other teacher must have limited her definition of Melissa's resourcefulness to just having a guy who knows a guy, willfully ignoring that her affinities for scraping by and twisting arms and shaking people down are crucial extensions of this trait. Indeed, being resourceful to her just means doing whatever it takes to endure a life where she learned quickly enough that just about everyone has it in them to hold a knife.

Melissa is silent at this revelation—awed that Ava of all people had been the one to tease it out of Barbara and maybe even a little jealous that she hadn’t been able to do so herself.

That she hadn’t been the one to make her friend fully understand that there is no such thing as clear-cut morals in a world of monsters and men, especially not when the two are often one and the same.

“This is about me,” Barbara continues of her own accord, her voice breaking on that last syllable, that simple and so heavily freighted word. “And the fact that even though I am well aware of my own follies, of the sins that stain my immortal soul, I… cannot bring myself to fully repent, to refute Ava’s philosophies, to emphasize the straight and narrow way to my students…”

She pauses, glancing at Melissa through long lashes, tears shining in her eyes. 

“To regret shaking down Sister Delisha Sloss for you, Melissa," she breathes, her voice low and constricted. “I was so happy to do that—if it allowed me to make things right with you, if it granted me your precious forgiveness—that it was easy to justify everything I had thought wrong about it in the first place…”

So they’re both thinking of that day, huh?

Of one of the most horrible fights that they have ever had.

Barbara doesn’t regret her apology, she’s saying.

It was sin, but even still—

She did it for Melissa—she cares for her that much—and the confirmation of this settles in her belly with a warmth and a gratitude that she would have never thought possible.

“Barb,” she intones gently, still gripping the other’s wrist, “there’s nothin’ to regret about any of that. Being good and being right sometimes aren’t the same thing in this world. Life's too complicated for that. Humans are, and God’s gotta understand that.”

He’s God, not some fundamentalist Christian.

Surely, He’s made it so that the fate of one’s soul isn’t determined by how well one mindlessly and dispassionately follows a set of written rules.

Surely, that is not all that worship boils down to in the end.

“I think you’re right,” Barbara readily replies, sniffing as surreptitiously as possible. “I think you and Ava both are for that matter—”

“—words I never thought I’d hear ya say for 500, Alex,” Melissa can’t resist the quip and receives a baleful glare in return.

Okay, she deserves that one.

“—but understanding that for myself? Internalizing such a crucial message? That’s even trickier when I’m surrounded by people who don’t get it either,” she finishes with an exhausted sigh, glancing over her shoulder at the church, magnificent and imposing even in the concentrated gloom of this starless night. Melissa follows her gaze to see that she’s specifically staring at the double doors, upon which a neon pink flyer has been taped to one of them.

She can’t make out the wording from this distance, but she doesn’t have to—Barbara explains in a horrifyingly numb voice.

“I’m being iced out,” she says, her eyes flat. “Bible Club was apparently canceled this evening, and the first I heard of it was when I pulled up and saw that notice on the door. I should have received a call, or even just a text from a fellow sister in Christ, but why would I?”

She laughs bitterly, and the unpleasant sound aches Melissa’s sternum—the clarity in it, the conviction.

“When Sister Sloss—yes, her"—she nods vigorously at whatever disgusted expression must be manifesting on Melissa's face—"saw us at the mall the other day, she designated me as not church-like, so naturally, the whole Bible Club—ha! perhaps even the entire congregation!—probably believes so as well now, and I’m being righteously punished for it, judged and clearly found wanting…"

Barbara smiles coldly, the gesture settling like iron on her lips.

"Perhaps the good Lord is in on the joke too if my flat tire is any indication of the karma that I’ve earned."

Melissa just stares at her, blinking.

“So wait—you mean t’tell me that the woman who’s been stealin’ from your church has the gall to call you not church-like?” She huffs indignantly, her breath forming a visible cloud in front of her face. (Goddamn, it’s freezing.) “And you believe her?!”

“Yes,” Barbara laughs again, this time sounding genuinely amused at Melissa’s outrage, this time almost sounding like herself again, and somehow, at the same time, still sounding so broken. (Maybe, though, this is just how the older woman always sounds, and she's just taken all the correct precautions to masterfully hide it.) “Utterly ridiculous, I know.”

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, and I thought I had some image issues,” she shakes her head, unable to see the humor in Barbara Howard loathing herself as much as she clearly does. There is nothing funny about that, nothing acceptable, nothing even remotely light. “But you, hon, you take the cake, icing and all.”

She says this last part very gently, though, well-aware that Barbara’s conception of herself is a delicate subject, and indeed, even at this slight comment, the mirth quickly drains from the other’s eyes, leaving nothing behind but the unwanted dregs—that same sense of loss that she’d perceived in them earlier when she had first pulled up. 

Barbara is as unbalanced as she has ever seen her, standing on a tightrope high above a dark, seething sea. Melissa wants nothing more than to grab her hand and lead her back to solid ground, wants to tell her that she can rest now.

It's over.

There’s no more need to so capably perform.

She's going to fall and break her neck; she's going to plummet, headfirst, into that violent and pitiless sea.

“Yes,” the older woman returns quietly, her shoulders sagging, even if just a little. “I’m starting to recognize that too…”

And a tear finally slips from the corner of one of her eyes, slinking down the crevasse of her angular cheek, collecting calmly, like a crystallized memento, on the vertex of her chin.

But Melissa, without so much as blinking, reaches over and gently thumbs it away, cupping the line of her beautiful jaw. She knows she should let go—painfully cognizant that this moment does not require such prolonged intimacy—but she doesn’t. She just holds Barbara’s face in the palm of her hand, in the gentle caress of her shivering fingertips.

“I’m sorry that I lied to Gerald,” Barbara croaks, leaning in to the touch, more tears starting to visibly well, falling in earnest now. “I didn’t want you to see me like this, the mess that I am.”

“Shh,” Melissa consoles her, continually swiping at her face. “I know. I know.”

“I don’t deserve you, Melissa Schemmenti.

“Don’t say that,” she protests fiercely, meaning it with everything in her, with every atom, every indivisible cell. “Love isn’t flippin’ conditional, Barbara.”

Goddamn, who taught you that?

How did you ever come to think such a horrible thing?

“You… love me?” Barbara asks, her voice almost aching with childlike wonder, and the simple question and the older woman’s rapt, awed expression nearly knocks the air from her lungs, and on the steps of this Baptist church, she’s suddenly staring at her best friend’s lips, which are only inches away from her own—the plum color of them, the beauty—and seriously thinking about committing sacrilege.

“Yeah, ‘course,” she breathes, her fingers still gracefully arched against that cool, smooth skin. “To know ya is to love you, Barbara Howard, all of you—even your messiness."

She loves every part of her. 

Oh, God, how she does.

And she has tried so hard to ignore this crucial fact for years and years now—deeply aware that Barbara is a somewhat happily married woman—but knowing and feeling are two entirely separate entities, and they war with each other daily, unfailingly drawing blood when they clash.

Barbara visibly swallows at this, the peristaltic motion pronounced in the pillar of her throat, and Melissa’s heart throbs against the wall of her chest, damn near close to leaping out of her ribcage and killing her.

(Maybe even liberating her at the exact same time.)

Without being fully aware of what she’s doing, or perhaps being entirely aware, perhaps losing all the inhibitions that have kept her in line, Melissa leans forward, still holding the other woman's face—

—and Barbara, as though magnetized, eyes wide open with melancholy and longing and horror and holy delight, does so too—

—but as their foreheads just touch, the tips of their noses brushing, their hot breaths flooding over each other's skin, they both recoil backwards, like two binary stars who have remembered that their lot in life is to eternally orbit each other.

Spiraling around the same center of gravity for time immemorial but never, ever colliding.

Barbara pulls away violently, gasping for air, unloosing the scarf around her hands so she can massage her convulsing neck. She coughs and coughs—her chest heaving—and she coughs. 

And Melissa, suddenly feeling sick at what she’d nearly made Barbara do, can only pinch the bridge of her nose against the nausea surging through her.

They’re literally on the steps of a temple, and they almost just desecrated it together.

They almost just kissed.

“Fuck,” she spits out, even though she's not supposed to be cursing because something holy happens here. Something decent. But she forgets herself. She'd almost just done a far worse thing. “Sorry, Barb, I—“

“No, no,” Barbara interrupts her, her voice impossibly hoarse. “I just… accidentally slipped, that’s all.”

She had done no such thing.

This is the crucial lie that they will both tell themselves, though, the story they will desperately cling to so as to keep everything the same between them come Monday morning. 

They are just friends.

Barbara slipped.

Melissa loves her but not like that.

“Oh,” she happily plays along, relief flooding through her entire nervous system at this exceptionally good pretense, this readymade out. “You’re always such a klutz.”

She most certainly is not, but this is the role that Barbara will gracefully inhabit to make this charade work for the both of them.

“Guilty as charged,” she laughs, and Melissa does too, the sounds horrible and strained and just a little hysterical—and maybe a whole lot—as they mingle in the darkness of the night, the unrelenting coldness.

“C’mon, let’s get your flat changed before both of us freeze t'death,” she suggests, standing up somewhat laboriously, nearly toppling over, her joints all sore and stiff. She catches herself on the nearest railing. “I’ll follow ya home and make sure the spare doesn’t pop or anything.”

Melissa damn well knows that she should extend a hand and offer to help Barbara up too, but she thinks that could be dangerous.

What if Barbara accidentally slips again? 

So she faces forward, towards their cars, and starts legging her way back to them. Always prepared for emergencies such as these, she’s got a jack in her car and a heavy duty flashlight. It won’t take her long to put the donut tire on at all…

“I’m so sorry, Melissa,” she only just hears the spoken words, whispered as they are to her retreating back, snatched up as they almost are by the brutal, unforgiving wind. “I love you too.”

Melissa pauses on the bottommost step, the heels of her boots teetering on the precipice and the vertiginous edge.

She knows if she looks behind her now, it will all be over. She will not freeze. She will not turn to stone. She will run to Barbara Howard, that married, married woman and tenderly cup the nape of her neck. She will kiss her senseless, spread her lips like they are divine, and she will enjoy every last second of their mutually entangled sin… she’s never exactly had a problem with being a cheat…

… but then, Melissa—just as Barbara must do every single day—suddenly hears Gerald Howard’s soft voice in her ears.

Take care of her for me, will you?

Our Barb.

What would we do without you?

And the horror of those words—the weight of that carefully placed trust—simply guts her. She unwittingly touches her stomach and half-expects for it to be covered in matted blood.

“Huh?” Her voice sounds like a nasty echo of itself. “What was that? I didn’t hear ya.”

(But she did, and despite what both of them would like to believe, there's no rewinding the tape, no unringing the bell, no resetting the sands in the hourglass, no taking back the words they have said and the things they have almost done and the secret something that exists between them, taking up space every time that they sit next to each other in the same damn room. They love each other; the fact is irrefutable. They love each other; they're running away from the fact even now, as though the freshly dug dirt won't be visible in the clear light of day.)

“Nothing,” comes an equally harried reply. “I just said that I’m right behind you…”

Sure, yes.

That’s exactly what Barbara must have said.

Melissa lets out a breath that she didn't realize she had been holding and takes that final step. The soles of her boots harshly scuff the dark pavement, the sound intolerable to her ears.

Life goes on anyway.

#work wives #barbara howard #melissa schemmenti #gerald howard #s: abbott elementary #abbott elementary #reginianwrites #oh i fit so much angst into this bad boy #IF YOU SAW THE ITALICS WERE BRIEFLY FUCKED UP AUHGHSHE #GDI #I FIXED THEM

[fireheartwraith]

Richarlyson's Letter to Forever

Page 1: "OK 0_0 Gosh I'm nervous, I'll write in my little book so it's easier :D

Before anything, dad, yesterday I almost died a couple of times, and after our talk, once more, it really wasn’t my day right? KKKKKKKKK"

Page 2: "After that, me, dad Felps, Pom and my uncles talked in my room, Pom was really worried, I didn't really understand why...

After that (this sentence is going to be kind of funny), uncle Bad took me to the cemetery, I had already seen the place,"

Page 3: "in honour of my siblings, I throw flowers to them every time I walk by, and I wonder if they still watch me from heaven, as I told dad Felps, as time went on I stopped believing it, you know? 0_0"

Page 4: "That the stars are up there in the sky, at night, to protect me and support me, it's been some time since I've heard this things…

I miss these stories…"

Page 5: "It’s been some time since I've been afraid of dying like this… I stay up a lot of hours… and because of this I see a lot of things… I get really attached too… but if I make it till the end and get out of this island, with my uncles, my friends, my siblings, with my parents"

Page 6: "with you dad, am I still going to be safe? This scares me, this scares me so much I've always thought it would be best, in case something happens, something inevitable, that I enjoy it until there, you know? That I look danger in the eyes, that I get excited, "

Page 7: "that I spend my resources because that's what makes them valuable, that I follow those I love on their adventures, and if I go, I'll have left a little bit of me in everyone"

Page 8: "and this memories will stay every little block, on every conversation, on every little sign I left around, on every "good night" I learned to say on another language :D"

Page 9: "but the pressure of being always here, at every moment being such a fragile presence that I scare those that are with me, I have fun when we are silly and take some risks"

Page 10: "I hate being the reason why my younger sister carries in her hands what she says is for "surviving", does what she does for "surviving", whenthetimeIsawherlivethemost was when we played together with Dapper, when we went out me and her"

Page 11: "by ourselves, we threw a party, swam in lava, rode a boat, took a picture without armor and ate cake. But I also don't want to be the reason I see her cry, because I was seconds away from leaving without saying goodbye."

Page 12: "I'm sorry dad, do you promise you will forgive me?"

Page 13: "MESSAGE FROM RICARDÃO

(Read to the voices too :D)

(Do a dramatic pause too, a surprised reaction)"

Page 14: "Hi!! Sorry for any confusion I may have caused because of my theatre, I'll keep the message as short as possible.

For you Forever, and for the voices, yesterday's situation at the end of the night was entirely planned"

Page 15: "Risky, but planned, I wasn't playing to protect myself and that was intentional for a shocking development, the cinema!! I created conflict on purpose (the nation almost loses the egg because of Ricardão's theatre? Has he lost his mind?)"

Page 16: "But never, ever, was my intention to cause a bad atmosphere and quarrels. I'll make sure to develop this the best way I can, and so this is solved, try not to get into arguments, voices, into fights, remember, Ricardão would die of heartbreak </3"

Page 17: "Sorry about yesterday's shock, the fights, the sad moments, and for those who managed to enjoy it, even if just a little bit, thank you :D"

Page 18: "And Forever, you are an amazing person, and I've been clear on how much I respect you, your work, and your team's work, sorry about yesterday's stressful talk, I'll give it my best two times over from now on!! And keep taking care of Richinhas, he adores you!! <3"

#qsmp #qsmp forever #qsmp richarlyson #qsmp meta #i was going to include the pictures but there’s a limit :(((

[quillkiller]

jen jen jen for the ask game can you spare some lilyminerva thoughts for a poor soul?? and ritaminerva thoughts?? and maybe also ritasybill?? just as a treat??

i would jump infront of a train if you asked me to so YES !!!!!! of course i can !!!!!!!

lilyminerva:

makes sense/comepls me

listen. this may be a stretch. but i think even in canon it would make sense for lily to have a onesided obsessive crush on minerva even if it never ever evolver into anything because lily was a minor obviously and i don’t think minerva ever looked twice at lily when she was her student. but like. we’ve all had crushes on teachers ??? even when we were underage ?? like i remember having a huge crush on my english teacher (i was her favorite student❤️) and i would truly gather my things sooooo slowly after class just to have a few seconds alone with her. like a normal person .

i also think minerva is the only professor that would treat lily like a person? who wouldnt treat her like a child prodigy ?? and lily respects that woman soooooo much. so so so much. she grows a little obsessive, even gets frustrated that minerva doesnt give her special treatmeant, why not, what am i doing wrong, why can’t i impress her like everyone else, im fucking lily evans

in a modern au or canon divergence. i love the idea of lily being a new professor at her old school where minerva is still working. she’s married to james, she has the perfect life, james is lovely, he wants to have a family with her. everything is perfect. everything is the way lily always wanted it to be………… or did she.. she runs into minerva on the first day and shes immediately gone. shes immediately thrown back into her obsessive tendencies. her creepy and stalkery ways (sorry i just love creepy lily 😔). she follows minerva around everywhere, puts up her best front, shes being sooooo nice, shes trying to impress her so fucking badly. but minerva is stern. shes a stubborn woman and she has never ever played favorites. lily has always been everyones favorite. its driving her insane. she shows up super early for work. she brings minerva coffee. she stays late. she volonteers for anything there is to volonteer for. she wants minervas approval so bad. shes thinking about her all the time. she cant even get off anymore when shes sleeping with james unless shes thinking about minerva.

HONESTLY ?? i don’t even know if i want it to be requited. i love lilys onesided obsessive love. she snaps one day obviouly. she stomps into minervas office. or maybe she gets drunk and goes all the way to her house. she has a whole speach prepared. she doesnt do the speach. shes just yelling and demanding to know why minerva doesnt want her. ”im so bright!!!!” ”im the brightest student you’ve ever had!!!!!” ”why don’t you love me?????” ”tell me what to do i’ll do anything!!!!!” shes drunk and sobbing at minervas house. maybe minerva is married. to poppy, maybe. AAAAAAAAAAA

ritaminerva:

doesn’t make sense/compels me

they’ve bewitched me body and sould. student/teacher relationship. rita is a uni student and minerva is her professor. rita is the biggest teachers pet in all of history. she’d fucking bring an apple for minerva im sooooo sure of it. minerva is the professor everyones been dreading. they have awful nicknames for her. shes stern and doesn’t take anyones bullshit. its love at first sight for rita. she’s so entirely gone. she gathers her things soo slowly to be alone with minerva for just a few seconds. she always sits in the front row. doesn’t take her eyes off minerva once during lectures. shes biting her pencils and minerva watches her intently as she does. rita is a fucking tease and she knows it. she gets under minervas skin. she’s always raising her hand in class. she’s always right. she always wants to debate. she’s emailing minerva after hours. minerva is responding despite knowing better. its not her fucking fault that rita is so bloody interesting. so cutthroat. shes challenging minerva and minerva loves a challenge. rita actually cares!!!!! shes not falling asleep at her desk or running out of class once its over. shes dedicated. and did i mention… a fucking tease……… shes openly flirting with minerva in the emails and at first minerva ignores it. but she doesn’t say anything. eventually she starts flirting back, just a bit. whats the harm. yeah whats the fucking harm!!!!!!! she asks herself when she finds herself with a lap full of rita, ritas back against minervas desk. rita talking academic filth in minervas ear. minervas not sure she even locked the door to the classroom. it doesnt matter she thinks when rita starts unbuttoning her shirt and says ”a little help, professor?”

ritasybill:

makes sense/compels me

THEMMMMMM. THEM THEM THEM……… they have literally changed the trajectory of my life forever and ever.

i think they’d be interesting in a canon compliant fic, but im way way way more intrigued by our little au we (mostly you!!!!!!! 🧎) created. them working for a trashy magazine together. sybill being obsessed with rita from start. bewitched body and soul. rita deciding from that that sybill is her rival and nothing else. stalkery delusional vines. sybill doing rituals and spells to get rita to fall in love with her. rita keeping a binder of every single detail of sybills life. she has to know her competition obviously. she has a picture of sybill on her ceiling above her bed just so she can glare at it. if the glaring turns into yearning then thats no ones business but her own :/

literally actually delusional. both of them. batshit insane women. they should be together❤️

#hannibal to my will #lilyminerva #ritaminerva #ritasybill

[freddieloundsgf]

my five star books so far this year!

twitching and shaking right now trying not to become a book blog but i have no one else to talk to so you will all be subjected to my ramblings! >:)

i am not a professional reader or reliable critic. what i give five stars is usually totally dependent on vibes and how i feel while reading and is not at all indicative of extreme technical skill or otherwise life altering capabilities. i just work here.

1. Inferno by Dante Alighieri

- to no one’s surprise, the exvangelical, religious iconography and hell-obsessed girl* gave 5 stars to the famous book about hell. this is my favorite book and i have read it many times. i have two inferno tattoos and i collect copies of this book. i prefer the Longfellow translation simply because it is the one i am comfortable with and have tabbed to hell (wink emoji) and back.

2. This Is How You Lose the Time War by Amal El-Mohtar and Max Gladstone

- i love when women love each other. BUT WAIT. disclaimer alert: if you can listen to this book rather than read it, please please please do yourself the favor of listening. this book is non-linear, convoluted, and chock-full of flowery and even complicated prose that will make you kill yourself if you have to comprehend the text as it is inked upon a page. the audiobook is only 4 hours long and can be listened to in a day. it would not have been five stars if i hadn’t listened to it.

3. Know My Name by Chanel Miller

- an absolutely gut-wrenching, heartbreaking, and important memoir from the “Emily Doe” involved in the Brock Turner case. a powerful depiction of reclaiming your identity and navigating the husk of your own life after being rendered a “victim.” i don’t have much i can say about this, the book says it all. Chanel Miller puts words to feelings that have rotted me from the inside out my entire life.

4. Piranesi by Susanna Clarke

- most people would probably not rate this so high, but i had a really good time reading this book. the world was strange and Piranesi was just such a great perspective to live within. i will admit this did get tedious at times but it did not affect my overall enjoyment.

5. The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger

- listen. i know, okay? i know. my intention was to hate-read this book so i could make fun of the men who love it. and look where that landed me. i read this in basically one sitting and really really enjoyed it. i tabbed and highlighted it to pieces and, unfortunately, found myself thinking “he’s just like me fr” throughout the entirety of the book. sue me.

6. Giovanni’s Room by James Baldwin

- this book had me on suicide watch. just kidding. but really i loved this book and it ripped my heart out and i think about it on and off. i just love James Baldwin’s writing and really respect him as a person and activist, which made it easy to lean into reading this and absorbing it the way i did. i heart gay tragedy.

7. We All Want Impossible Things by Catherine Newman

- this book was so funny. it is about two best friends in their 40s (?) and one of them is dying. it goes through bits of their lives, families, and how love finds a way to flourish despite it all. i really loved this book and read it so quickly. it was just a fun, sad, and charming little read.

8. Rebecca by Daphne Du Maurier

- i was unable to put this book down while i was reading it. and nothing even really happens, so that’s saying something. i was so busy with college and work but i was using every spare moment of free time—forfeiting my lunch breaks, extending my bed time—to read this lol. it is just so brilliantly written. i also wrote fanfic for it. i need Mrs Danvers so bad it makes me look stupid.

9. Pew by Catherine Lacey

- this was such a strange but deeply human story. i don’t even know how to describe it. it is such a quick read though and i definitely recommend that you check it out if you have time or feel so inclined.

10. The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

- i am so late to this. read this for the first time earlier this month. yes i cried. leave me alone. this story is just so good and sweet and it gave me something akin to a warm hug or a kiss on the cheek.

11. Notes From Underground by Fyodor Dostoevsky

- The Brothers Karamazov and Crime and Punishment are still sitting menacingly on my shelf, but i felt comfortable tackling this ≈130 page work of Dostoevsky’s as a means of dipping a noncommittal toe in lol. i really liked this book and, again, like with Catcher in the Rye, found myself relating to the narrator in an almost worrying capacity. the first 40 or so pages of this book that you have to get through before reaching the actual story can be a little grueling but i still had a good time and consider this to be a very good book.

12. Foster by Claire Keegan

- short and sweet at ≈90 pages. i supplemented my read by listening along to the audiobook at the same time. this is just such a meaningful and sad but strong story about a young Irish girl who is brought to live with some distant relatives for a summer. well worth the read if you have a moment to spare.

13. My Husband by Maud Ventura

- i loved this book. another worrying instance of relatability. reading this went by really quickly for me and i had a good time. i will say, i wish there were no epilogue. many such cases.

14. The Employees by Olga Ravn

- another short and sweet read at 125 pages, written as a compilation of “witness statements” that are either just a sentence long or spanning two pages. very interesting and strange, if a little confusing at first. but i loved it and knocked it out in a couple of hours during a lazy afternoon.

currently reading: i am listening to Tom Lake by Ann Patchett, which i am willing to predict right now that it is going to be a five star read.

i am also reading Harrow by Joy Williams. this book is indescribable. i am over halfway done and i couldn’t tell you a single thing about it. but it is incredibly written and somehow still engaging through the veil of confusion. i think this one may be a five star read for me as well, though i don’t know if others would say the same.

#i have read 44 books so far this year #most of them do not fall beneath 4 stars because i have a pretty tight grasp on what i know i will enjoy reading #but the ones that do…..agony

[theluxuriansecret]

Dearest Diary 07282023

1:03 pm

Okay. It's time to start healing and truly prioritizing myself. The last 72 hours have been so fucking chaotic like the shit is not funny. The moon was in scorpio, Venus is retrograding and so many things are just happening it's getting fucking scary. It's showing me that I am not healing the way I need to, and I'm not moving on the way I say I am. I'm participating in things I told myself I wouldn't. This is the post where I lay every fucking thing on the table. Every bad feeling, ever mistake, everything in my head. A total and complete dump because I refuse to bring any of this with me into August.

Let's start from Wednesday. I clocked into work and I receive an email from my ex with the subject line "Peace ?". Bruh, I was as peaceful as I could get before you messaged me that shit. He explains to me how he doesn't like how the bridge between us burned and how in our lives, we rarely make as meaningful connections as the one we had. I explained to him that I think that the connections we make mean something for sure, and each connection is different than the next, but not every connection we make is meant to last. I just don't believe that. He told me he even spoke to his new girlfriend about contacting me and that she's as understanding of the situation as she can be. Which, I feel kinda bad for her because, if my boyfriend came to me and was telling me how he wants to reach out to his ex girlfriend to rekindle, I'd be sick to my stomach soooo fucking bad. Having a connection to him does not benefit me and I lack to see where a connection to me would be beneficial to him too. I can't stand to be his friend. I can't stand to see how it was so easy for him to move on after everything. I can say that truly I am happy to not be with him, and that I do not want to get back together. But you found someone so quickly. You found someone new before we completed a full orbit around the sun from when we ended things. Like thats insane to me. And then you drag her into your past by trying to reconnect with me, that doesn't sit right with me. Quite frankly, I don't think thats fair to her, me, or him. Our communication this last time around wasn't bad, but I don't see how consistent communication would be beneficial.

Next, we have J..... I have got to let this fucking man go . Like it is mental illness atp. So let's go back through everything. Let's break it down. I met him last September on bumble, we chatted, shit was sweet, we hooked up. THE only difference between him and everyone else is two things. The first thing being that he was the first person to make me feel something since I had ended things with my ex. Was it all in my head? yeah. unfortunately. That was not his fault, but entirely, entirely mine. So we met up a few times, he made me feel love where none was present, and then he ghosted me. Obviously fucking up my ego because I had never been ghosted before by someone I felt something with and I really took a blow. I didn't handle it well at all. Like, was truly down bad. I turned to other men, obviously that didn't help. It just made me feel worse. He then comes back and I let him back and he gives me chlamydia. Cool. Even then I still can't get over it. He is still on my mind. I still watched out videos, I still listened to him say my name and tell me to cum for him. I still looked at picture of him in my phone, I still wished for him to come back. Why? I want him to choose me, why? I have no idea. I wanted to be chose by him. He made me feel special, although those were never his intentions, thats what his actions relayed to me. That how I portrayed that, and again that's no one else's fault but mine. Anyway that leads me into what I did yesterday. I was stalking his page as I do and I saw a comment under a picture of his dog that says "my little baby" for some reason ever since I saw it's been ringing in my fucking head, and it will not go away. I accidentally like the fucking comment like a fucking moron idiot. I unliked immediately. Long story short, he went private again haha. As he should, please block me tf out because I'm losing my fucking mind over you. I ended up blocking him. Blocked all his accounts on both my accts. I need to move on because it is actually causing harm to me. Emotional cutting if you will. I need to really heal. He didn't like me, he didn't want me, he never felt that way about me, he never ever did and he never will.

Lets move on to F..... . To be honest, I have very little to say about him because I was really over him after the first time he severely disrespected me, but he made me realize how scared I was to actually be alone. Thanks for that fucking lesson my guy. He also taught me not to tolerate disrespect. Ever. Not for a second. He did something unforgivable to me and I didn't address it the second he did it. What did he do? I don't think I've put it into words here, so let me do that now. He woke me up to have sex and then when i turned around his phone was out and he tried to hide it. What he was doing on his phone was between him and god. I really wish I slapped tf out of him for that. I really wish I got up and was like nahh and left and never communicated and never saw him again after that, but no, I let it slide, I let way tooooo much slide with him. I wish when he told me at the bar that "the only reason people were speaking to me because of him" that I walked out and left him there. I literally drove us there. Would have been the ultimate pay back. I can't go back and change the past, and I won't blame myself, but I do know better now so I will not stand for it. He also taught me not to lower my standards cause if we're being for real that mfker was UGLY. No more ugly men, never ever ever ever. I rather be alone than tolerate disrespect from an ugly man. YUCK.

Moving on to my rebound. I actually feel kinda bad that he was a rebound because I wanted him before I met F..... and he's a nice guy but thats it. ALSO, also, I'm doing the same shit with him that I did with J.... . Which is truly unfortunate. Making things out to be what they aren't. Okay lets tell his story because I really was so hesitant to speak on him at all with anyone or here because then it makes it real. I don't want it to be real. Anyway, lets call this man JC. I met JC back in February when I was initially dealing with getting over J.... . I went up to him at the club and if im being completely honest, I don't know what the fuck I could've said to this man because I was so so drunk. He messaged me on instagram about seeing me, but he wasn't really making plans, so I would never see him. I made it clear that I wasn't on instagram often and that when/if he dmed me I wouldn't see it until I opened the app. Anyway, after I cut F.... of I did the sam exact thing I did with J.... and hit up a bunch of guys I knew wanted me, him included. We ended up hooking up and like he's cool. But that it. He's just a nice guy who I'm attracted to and I've occasionally hooked up. My mistake was when I started to visualize what it would be like to be with him. I don't even know him. We don't speak on a day to day. We only speak when he hits me up for convenient sex. Which, I don't complain about because I go over there every single time. Even last time when my heart was screaming no, I still said yes. Will is say yes next time? I don't know. The only difference is like the things he would say, but I'm self aware enough to know his actions do not match his words. One time we linked, he brought up that when he texted me about my scent, it's because he smelled it and thought of me. Which is sweet. And then he told me that he would think if me every thursday when he had football because they would practice really close to the school that I attend. Like... Then the very last time I saw him, in between our kisses we were talking about my scent again and I told him I wore the one I knew he liked, and he said he liked both (in regards to me wearing a different perfume) and then he said "i like you" but like obviously his actions don't reflect the actual like that I feel like he talked about. like. He doesn't go out of his way to talk to me, or to see me often, or he isn't that interested in really getting to know me outside of only wanting to know me because it makes him feel less shitty for just sleeping with me.

I think it is truly time to start rebuilding my self esteem and my self worth and working on a deeper self love because whatever I thought it was before, is not. That small little foundation I have built has crumbled and I've made myself sad again. I need to put myself first truly. I need to respect my wishes and my desires. I need to say no when I mean no. I need to value myself higher. I am worthy something whether I am poor or rich. I am worthy something whether I am the most beautiful or the most ugly. I am worthy something just because I exist. I am worthy. I deserve love and respect because I exist. And I need to start acting like that.

SOTD: I Gotta Find Peace of Mind - Live by Ms Lauryn Hill

#fucking idiot moron #dearest diary #dear diary #self worth #growth #respect #cherished #sad #online diary #journal #secret diary #secret journal #journaling #love #spotify #healing #healing journey #know better do better #2023 #scorpio sun #sagittarius rising #virgo moon #my story #my legacy #lauryn hill #sotd #the sex lives of college girls

[valentineforlemonandcherry]

Foxtail & Wolfsbane Part 29

Summary: Your lifelong obsession to hunt down the Nine-Tailed Fox has not gone as expected, and seventeen years later, you find yourself coming back to the place where it all started: Hogwarts. However, with Sirius Black’s escape from Azkaban and Headmaster Dumbledore’s hire of a certain Professor R. J. Lupin, you suddenly find yourself intertwined in the fates of those with whom you thought you had parted ways with long ago.

[Multi-Post Story] [Rowan Scamander x Reader] [Remus Lupin x Reader] [Young Sirius Black x Reader] [Tristan Graves x Reader] [Severus Snape x Reader] *Note: Rowan Scamander, Tristan Graves, Susana Holmes, Cas Carneirus, Henrietta Weiss, and Thomas Picquery are OC characters. *Please do not repost or copy my work without my permission. Thank You!

Note: Part 29 does not contain any explicit smut. However, there are descriptions of kissing, touching, and grinding. There are also past references to sexual acts.

Note: Please also note that, completely unrelated to any sexual acts, there is violence (fighting) and references to blood and wounds in this part.

☾ Click Here for Foxtail & Wolfsbane Home Page (All Chapter Links) ☾

Standing in the forest, on the other side of the doorway, Rowan was staring at his hands. Your tears were still glistening on his palms.

You’d have thought that her tears would have evaporated by now… It’s been hours… Is it because these tears are from the other side of the door?

Rowan began to grip his hands into fists. Shit, I still don’t know whether I did the right thing, leaving her in that strange place.

Rowan remembered what you had said to him, just the other day, after you had made love: “But just know that I’ve changed since then and there are parts of me that you can never claim.” He felt that he would be disrespecting you if he didn’t follow your orders.

I know that. I know it’s her journey and I have no intention of taking her journey away from her, but she’s my… He didn’t know how to finish that thought. The other thing is, I know her. She tends to forget herself… I used to have to remind her to go to classes because she’d forget that she was a student who still needed to pass her classes. I used to bring her food because she’d forget she had a human body that required food. I used to drag her to bed because she’d go running off to the Forbidden Forest at all hours of the day, and she didn’t ever seem to remember or care that it wasn’t safe…

Rowan gasped, for the teardrops on his palms had abruptly turned into a bright crimson color. He watched in horror as the teardrops, which now looked eerily like drops of blood, streaked down his wrists.

She’s in trouble! Damn it, I knew I should never have left!

Rowan took off, racing towards the silver slit in the air. He thrust his hand forward and his fingers slipped into the rip. At once, his hand felt incredibly cold. There was a rush of air, and Rowan was transported back.

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

Rowan raced down the hillside. The snow was so thick that he could barely see two feet in front of him. Pulling out his wand, he yelled, “Immobulus!”

All snowflakes within thirty yards of Rowan froze.

“Lumos Maxima!”

A huge orb of light sprouted from the edge of his wand and went zipping off in front of him.

That’s when he saw it – a demonic creature baring her fangs, with her mouth wide open and taking up almost all of her face, hovering over your still body.

“NO!” Rowan screamed. His reaction was so strong that, even without an incantation, he set off a spell. A sound like a gunshot went off and a bright crimson jet of light shot directly at the succubus.

The succubus howled fiercely. She jumped back quicker than in the blink of an eye, successfully dodging Rowan’s spell.

Rowan made to charge forward, but his father’s voice rang out in his head: Never underestimate a creature in their own habitat.

Rowan wasn’t entirely sure what this beastly thing was before him, but he did immediately gather that her human features – her long, black hair; her pale, heart-shaped face, and her thick-lashed, sharp eyes – had appeared on your body before, when the Fox overtook you. You had looked strangely like this creature when he made love to you on the train. Thus, Rowan realized that this creature was connected to the Nine-Tailed Fox, and therefore, this winterland must also be the creature’s domain.

Right, Rowan thought solemnly, I can’t afford to underestimate this creature. Not only because this is a foreign landscape for me, but also because… He glanced over at you. You weren’t moving. Rowan swallowed thickly. …Her life’s on the line.

Rowan reached into his cloak. He ripped off a little bag that was hooked to the lining of his cloak.

Rowan quickly ran through his head, differentiating between purely magical and magical-mythological creatures. As he hurriedly opened the pouch, he whispered,  “Nula, Sil, Frank, I need you. The rest of you, stay inside. I reckon this is too much of a spiritual realm for most of you.”

There was a moment of silence. Taking advantage of Rowan’s seeming paralysis, the succubus leapt towards him. With a victorious hiss, she thrust her wicked claws right at his face when –

“AHH!” The succubus let out a horrible, metallic screech, for, just before she was able to claw Rowan’s face in two, three incredible creatures burst out of his pouch – a Zouwu, an Occamy, and a Thunderbird.

Nula, the Zouwu, immediately circled the succubus, surrounding her in a whirlwind of its bright, ruffled, multicoloured tail. Frank, the Thunderbird shot straight to the skies. A huge crackle of lightning ran through the sky. Then, the heavy snow transformed into heavy rain. Within seconds, the trees lost their winter mantles for the first time in several hundred years and the air, while still deathly sharp and quite cold, warmed ever so slightly. Finally, Sil, the Occamy, shrunk himself to fit within the Zouwu’s circle and wrapped himself tightly around the succubus. When the succubus tried to claw at Sil, Sil’s hard scales protected him. Then, the Zouwu suddenly bounded away, and the Occamy inflated himself, and, already wrapped around the succubus and her silver robes, he squeezed.

“ARGHHH!” A terrible, drawn-out cry rang out as the succubus met her fate.

Rowan grimaced. But he hardly had time to think about what had just happened. The snow around you had melted significantly and you were beginning to slide further down the hillside.

Rowan fell to his knees and looped his arms under your shoulders. As he pulled you into his lap, into safety, he caught sight of the blood gushing out of your ripped-up chest.

“Frank, stop!” Rowan cried out. “Stop the rain! She’s going to – She’s bleeding out!

Frank swooped low to the ground before perching himself atop a silver tree. He folded his wings and cawed, a bit affronted by Rowan’s yelling at him.

Rowan bowed his head. “Damn it!” he cursed. “I should never have left you. Never. Never. Not the first time, not the second time…”

But then, as grief wracked his mind and body, Rowan heard a faint voice whisper in his ear. Boy, remember where you are. She told you before…

Rowan paused. Is that – Is that you, Fox?

Yes, I’m still in her body. I can’t leave as long as she has a hollow in her soul, and she still does. I can only leave when her soul has dissipated completely.

A hollow in her soul? Rowan thought wonderingly.

The Fox continued, I am trying to keep her alive without overwhelming her, but it is – it is very difficult.

She’s alive!? Rowan breathed out sharply.

Yes. Now, focus. Remember what she told you about this place… The one thing she told you…

Rowan answered readily, because he had just been thinking of this himself: Time works differently here.

Exactly.

But what does that mean?

Think about what you felt when you first entered this place.

Everything is stilted. Rowan thought hard. Is time… slower here?

The Fox remained silent, and Rowan took that silence as approval. With your life on the line, Rowan knew that Fox would tell him if he was wrong.

Then, although this chest wound – Rowan grimaced – would clearly be a mortal world in the real world because of the severe blood loss, maybe here, where time is slower, I have time to save her.

Yes, the Fox breathed out. You must be quick, but it’s not impossible.

Rowan nodded. Getting up, he placed the pouch back on the ground and pulled its opening wide open.

Just then, a huge gust of wind came over Rowan as Frank landed next to the pouch. He cawed indignantly at Rowan and poked him with his talons.

Rowan grimaced in pain, but understanding Frank, he put his hand on the thunderbird’s beak. “Sorry for yelling. And thanks, Frank. You helped a lot. That creature was a lot weaker after the snow thawed.”

Frank nodded. His beady gaze softened. Then, instead of leaping back into the pouch, Frank took off again. Rowan watched him go. Frank likes flying here, he realized. The air must feel lighter, because it’s such a spiritual world. He can fly higher without having to worry.

Similarly, Nula and Sil were still dashing about as well. Nula was amusing herself by skidding herself along an ice-covered river and Sil was drifting along lazily in the air, sticking her head into different tree boughs to see what kind of trees existed here.

They seem to be all right here, Rowan decided. He stepped into his pouch himself. A moment later, he clambered back up, holding an armful of bandages, healing plants, and healing potions.

Rowan knelt at your side again. Trying to figure out how to heal you, he murmured, “Would be helpful to know what that damned creature was.”

It was a succubus, the Fox said mournfully.

Rowan’s eyes widened. A succubus?

Yes.

I don’t think I’ve had any training on how to heal succubus wounds, Rowan thought. He did the best he could, however. He sanitized your deep wounds, applied Dittany over the worst of your huge cuts, and then bound you up in bandages. He had to lift you gently to wrap the bandages around your chest. When he did, you shifted slightly and moaned, obviously in deep discomfort and pain. Rowan couldn’t tell which emotion was stronger – relief at a sign of life or terror at how much pain you must be feeling.

“That Dittany won’t hold, not with a wound like this,” Rowan said knowingly. “It’ll be a slow healing process.”

Yes, but you must also realize that the battle isn’t just physical, the Fox remarked.

What do you mean?

The succubus went for her chest because she was trying to get to her soul.

Hm… Succubi feed off of spiritual energy, don’t they? Rowan guessed.

Yes.

What should I do, then? Feeling foolish, Rowan admitted, I don’t know anything about spirits and souls. I understand the physical world and physical animals much better. But this… I don’t understand things like this, things like you…

If that were true, I couldn’t speak with you, the Fox countered gently. Rowan Scamander, you keep trying to act like your father. You think that, since he was a pure Magizoologist, you should be, too. You think that, because your father excelled in matters of the heart, so you should, too. But you are not your father. Your strength is not your heart – in fact, at the risk of insulting you, dare I say that you’re a coward at heart. It doesn’t surprise me that you won’t let yourself believe in love – you’re terrified of it. But your overwhelming strength, one that neither of your parents have, is your soul. The strength of your soul overwhelms everything else – your heart, your mind, even your sense of morals. You know you are alive, and you will not let anyone doubt it. It’s time to admit that to yourself and stop blaming your parents for walls you created for yourself.

But a strong soul isn’t useful! Rowan pushed back. What good does it do to just be alive? I’ve got to be kind and good and smart for my existence to matter. I’ve got to be – to be what everyone expects me to be. Otherwise, I have no value. Otherwise, I’m just egotistical and selfish because I take up so much space in this world without contributing anything…

A strong soul is useful, the Fox argued back. You could save her, Rowan.

How?

Hold her. When you do, you’ll feel her soul bleeding out of her. Catch it and don’t let it escape.

I don’t –

Try. You’ll be surprised to find how many things you can do, when you aren’t so afraid of just trying.

Rowan, still feeling hesitant, carefully lifted you into his arms. He made sure that he elevated you at the correct angle, so that you wouldn’t be in pain. Using his chest to support you, he gently wrapped his arms around your waist.

At first, nothing happened. Rowan started to grumble, when the Fox whispered, Patience. Give yourself a chance.

Rowan tried to calm his mind down. Slowly, he felt it – something silvery-gold was bleeding out of you in strands of wispy cloud, coming out of the wound in your chest and blossoming into the air before falling to the ground around you.

Rowan gasped. Is that her soul? Merlin, what do I do? How do I catch it? How do I -?

Stop panicking. The Fox reminded Rowan, How did you protect her before? How have you gathered her up before you in prior times?

Rowan thought. I would tell her, in so many ways, that I wished for her to be mine. Mine. Mine. Mine.

Rowan slowly felt the trails of clouds starting to curl up and come back to you.

No matter what you decide, you’d still be mine…

The clouds slowly traveled back up your body, back towards your chest.

And I didn’t need anybody to know, as long as you thought of yourself as mine.

All of the wisps had gone, and your chest was glowing a soft silvery-gold.

However, Rowan’s brow furrowed, for he could feel that your soul was still  incomplete. But there aren’t any more clouds of soul left…

The Fox sighed. So, it looks like even you can’t fix that.

Just then, you gasped loudly and your eyes flashed open.

You nervously looked around for a moment. Then, as you tried to lift yourself up, the first sound out of your mouth was a tired, irritated, “Oww…”

Rowan smiled. “You can’t move, love. You’re hurt. Besides that, you’re in my arms, and I’m not letting you go.”

“Rowan?” you murmured. “Why’re you here? Did you follow me into the afterlife?”

“What if I did?” he asked you, his voice weary with relief. “Would you kick me out?”

You turned your head just enough to see him. “Am I – Am I not dead?”

“The proper word is ‘alive,’” Rowan teased you gently.

“But the succubus - !” You tried to get up again, but Rowan kept you firmly in his arms.

“Is gone.”

“And I’m - ?”

“You?” Rowan cut you off softly. “You’re all right now. You’re safe.” He leaned down and pressed his lips against yours for just a second, before he finished, “And you’re mine.”

Your entire body suddenly flooded with warmth, and your heart gave a jolt, when you felt Rowan’s mouth on yours. His lips grasped at yours so passionately… For a moment, you forgot all about the mythical world. For a moment, you were lost in Rowan’s warmth…

However, after a long moment of kissing each other, you drew away just enough to whisper, “But how?”

Rowan related to you all that had transpired. That was when you noticed that -

“There’s a clear sky here.”

“Yes,” Rowan agreed. “That’s what happens after a thunderstorm.”

You gazed around in wonder. “Are those flowers on the trees?”

“Yes. Nula likes to spread them around. They’re ruffled and colored, the same way as her tail is.”

Your nose wrinkled. “Who is Nula?”

Rowan pointed at Nula, who was now bounding the faraway mountains in great leaps. “That’s Nula. She’s a Zouwu - ”

“A what?”

“A Zouwu. A mythical Chinese beast…”

“Oh, wow…”

Rowan hugged you a little tighter in his arms as he whispered in your ear, “And look, that’s Frank. He’s the Thunderbird responsible for the rainstorm.”

You stared up at the magnificent thunderbird.

“My father saved Frank when he was being illegally trafficked. Frank is originally from Arizona. He’s usually there, but every once in a while, he likes to hop in my pouch and come with me on my travels.” Rowan glanced down at you. Nudging you, he teased you, “Told you there are other creatures.”

“I guess there are,”  you said, a bit dazed.

Then, Rowan sighed. “Nick, you thieving rascal…”

You looked to see that a Niffler had crawled out of Rowan’s pouch. The Niffler was scampering about, trying to collect the last of the sparkling snow crystals, only to become very depressed when they melted away in his little paws.

“What an idiot,” Rowan muttered. He slipped out from behind you and walked over to the Niffler. “That’s snow, you idiot.”

Nick (short for Pumpkernickel) looked up at Rowan with big, teary eyes. Then, Nick suddenly gasped and fell over.

Rowan hurriedly grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and shoved him back into the pouch. “I told you, it’s too much of a spiritual realm for you.”

A soft sob was heard from the pouch.

Rowan sighed. He fished in his other cloak pocket and pulled out a Sickle. He chucked it into the pouch. “There, you whiny little brat.”

A happy guffaw sounded out from the pouch.

Rowan tied the string at the pouch’s neck again.

You were laughing at him. As you did, you called to your Nine-Tailed Fox. Can you believe it? It’s springtime here. And there are other mythical creatures.

The Nine-Tailed Fox’s tails swished happily. Yes. They’re all unfamiliar to me. They are from different regions, and none of them are ice spirits. Still… The Fox didn’t complete her sentence, but you understood: She was no longer alone.

Can you join them? you wondered. I think you’d be happy in this world now.

No, the Fox answered. The hollow in your soul is still present, little one.

Oh… you sighed. I’m sorry.

The Fox shook her head. While it would be most convenient for both of us to part ways here, I have come to understand that the hollow in your soul is no easy problem and that you have very little control over it.

I’ve never had control over that part of my soul, I’m afraid, you agreed.

However, the Fox warned you clearly, the threat remains – since you have this hollow in your soul, I must remain with you, and since I must remain with you, if you choose to go back to the other world, the clock will keep going, and on my nine hundredth birthday, I will devour you, regardless of what you and I wish.

Yes, I understand, you replied, and you suddenly felt yourself come back down to earth. Well, what should I do then?

I’m not sure, the Fox replied. My suggestion is to stay here with Rowan for the time being.

You glanced over at Rowan, who had now gone over to disentangle Sil, the Occamy, as she had somehow gotten herself stuck in the boughs of a silver tree.  

“I didn’t think he would come after me,” you murmured. “I thought he’d be glad when I asked him to stop being involved in all of this spirits business.”

The Fox looked at you rather mournfully, as she replied, It’s a pity that you underestimate his worth. He could be so much more to you, but you refuse to let him. Well, it’s not ‘refuse,’ exactly, but it’s –

Stop, you told the Fox. I know what you mean. I don’t need to hear you say it.

The Fox sighed. Of course not. Well, I’ll leave it at that, then.

And, with that, the Fox fell silent. She was content to stare, from the window of your soul, out onto her revived mythological realm, where flowers were blooming, and a Zouwu, Occamy, and Thunderbird were roaming about. The Fox hummed happily. She thought in her own heart of her ice phoenix friend, and she whispered, Can you feel it, my old friend? Can you feel what your heart has been courageous enough to sustain? We aren’t alone anymore. And I think I realize now – we were never truly alone.

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

A day later, Rowan told you, “We’ve got to check on your wounds. Make sure you’re healing properly. I also need to replace your bandages.”

“Okay.” You pulled off your cloak and undid your shirt (which had had to be laced up with spare shoestrings after it’d been ripped apart) before slipping it off. You made to take off your bandages.

“I’ll do that for you,” Rowan said, catching your hand. “You’ve got to be gentle… If you just rip if off, the edges of your wound might catch on your bandage and you’ll rip away healed skin.”

Rowan slowly unraveled the bandage from around your chest. Just before he unraveled the last loop, you grabbed his hand.

You didn’t say anything, but you signaled with your eyes, Wait. For some reason, you were scared to see the wound. Memories of the succubus and how terrifying she had been as she ripped into your chest flashed through your mind. You shivered and gripped Rowan’s hand harder.

“Hey, hey, hey.” Rowan leaned forward and pressed his lips against your cheek. “You’re all right. I’ve got you.”

Your breath was shuddering as you trembled, but slowly, you calmed down and found yourself again.

Rowan, feeling you still, leaned down and kissed your shoulder before looking up at you. “You all right?”

You nodded. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why that hit me so hard, all of a sudden.”

You reached down and slowly lifted the last of the bandage away from your chest. There was a disgusting, scabby, scarring hole in the middle of your chest.

You swallowed hard. It’s… It’s so hard to look at. Of course, I know I’m just lucky to be alive. But do I have to carry this scar for the rest of my life?

Inevitably, you thought of Remus, with his wary, hazel eyes, and how much he hated whenever anyone noticed his scars. You recalled once, when his shirt tore, how you’d thrown yourself on top of him and dragged him away, to make sure no one saw his scars. You remembered how he let you kiss his scars once, how he let you trace your lips all over them…

He was brave, you thought grimly. And I was selfish.

“It’s healing.” Rowan’s voice brought you back to life.

“For only a day, this wound is healing incredibly well. I know it looks gruesome, but you’re doing well,” Rowan assured you. “I think the Nine-Tailed Fox is doing her best to help you heal from within your soul, too.”

You said sincerely, “I’m so glad you’re here with me. Thanks, Rowan.”

Rowan simply shook his head, as if he was annoyed that you were thanking him for such an obvious thing. He cleaned your wound and applied more medicine, which made you wince and grit your teeth as a soft burn came up all over your chest. Then, Rowan wrapped fresh bandages around you.

When he finished, you quickly made to pull your shirt back on over yourself, but Rowan said, “Wait.”

You paused. “What is it? Are you not done?”

Rowan slowly leaned down and pressed his lips against yours. You moaned a little in surprise. Then, Rowan pressed his hand against your back and gently guided you down. With his other hand, he touched your tummy and then his hand drifted down to your hips and thighs.

“I’m not going to make love to you now,” Rowan whispered. “But don’t forget now that I want you…”

For a moment, you felt his hand glide over your inner thigh and then press against you…

You moaned lowly. “Rowan…”

“You moan like such a good girl,” Rowan murmured, “even though you’re such a brat.”

“Huh?”

Rowan laughed lightly at your confused sound. “Remember,” he told you, “you still owe me for having the nerve to say that your other lovers were better than me.”

“I should – I should think we’re past that,” you breathed out, as Rowan kissed you all down your neck and shoulders, while he rubbed his hand between your thighs.

“Wrong. I’m just petty enough that I can’t let that go,” Rowan told you. He bit your neck.

“Ah!”

“So, you better heal quickly, little nymph. Get you back in perfect health – so I can wreck you.” Rowan’s voice dipped into a strong growl, making you jolt a little.

You felt Rowan grin against your neck, as he recognized the effect he had on you.

But then, Rowan quickly pulled away from you. Winking at you, he said cheekily, “Can’t have that heart beating too fast right now, though.”

Pulling you up gently, he kissed your cheek again and said, “You need to heal.”

Ever stubborn, you shot back, “You know what? I don’t think I want to heal anymore.”

Rowan burst out laughing.

“I’m serious.”

“I know you are,” he assured you. “Makes it all the cuter when you end up begging for me to be inside you.”

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

Time passed far more quickly in the outside world than it did for you and Rowan in the world of spirit and myth. In fact, at the precise moment that Nick the Niffler managed to squirm out of Rowan’s pouch, Harry Potter was witnessing the horrifying rise of Lord Voldemort from the cauldron in the Little Hangleton graveyard.

But neither you nor Rowan had any knowledge of this. Instead, the two of you roamed the mythical world, hand in hand, and spent your days wondering how you were going to finally coax the Nine-Tailed Fox out of your soul.

Your days passed pleasantly enough, dipping your toes in silver lakes with floating cherry blossoms petals, climbing beautiful golden and silver trees that bore crystal flowers and ripe fruit, and studying the vast galaxies that were so clearly displayed in the night sky here.

The two of you, too, were more open and light-hearted here. Without anybody to judge you, both of you were much more free-spirited, and in that way, you matched each other well. You and Rowan spoke about many things that you hadn’t been able to before, in the real world, where everything felt too serious.

At one point, you wondered, “Rowan, don’t you feel like you should go back to the real world?”

Rowan shook his head. “No. Besides…” He gazed around at the mythical world. He caught sight of Frank, flying high above you both, so high that his aura didn’t reach you, so the thunderstorm didn’t affect you, even though Rowan could make out bright flashes of lightning far up above. “I like it here.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. This is what I want: to be close to magical beasts, especially the most magnificent ones, and to have some peace and quiet, where I’m not bothered by journalists and fake friends…” He looked at you. “You know, I always thought I wanted to be just like my father. But when I actually went with him on his trip…” He fell silent for a moment, unsure of how to say what he meant. “Well, we were away for years and we were always chasing… Dad never seemed to get lonely or tired. But I did.” His gaze fell to his feet, as though he were ashamed. “I started to doubt whether I was cut out to be a Magizoologist, after all.”

“Oh, Rowan.” You walked up to him and sympathetically put your hand on his arm.

“Whenever we did run into small towns or cities, we’d stop by for a night, and everybody would ask me questions about if I felt ready to step into my father’s shoes and how lucky I was to have a father like him… I am lucky. I know I am. But the entire time, I felt this doubt in my heart growing louder and louder – and then, it turned into guilt. Why couldn’t I be as happy as my father? Why wasn’t I able to keep up with him? Why did I crave human interaction more than animal interaction? The pressure got to me, and I started to get worse instead of better. I started to doubt my instincts. I would make mistakes, and Dad would get frustrated. Instead of learning, I kept forgetting things I already learned. And I knew that everyone at home and at Hogwarts, well, I knew that when I came back, they’d be expecting me to be this great Magizoologist…” Rowan stopped talking, and he shook his head, as if to wake himself up. He stared back up at the skies. Murmuring almost to himself, he whispered, “But if it was like this, I could do it… I would love it.”

So that’s why… Rowan has been suffocating under the expectations of being like his father, you realized. He feels like he can’t be himself. That’s why he’s always so defensive, so buttoned-up, so cold… He doesn’t let himself be vulnerable anymore, for fear of disappointing others.

You didn’t say anything, but you slipped your arms around Rowan and you hugged him from behind, and you watched the skies for him for as long as he liked.

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

There was one question, however, where Rowan could never seem to get a straight answer out of you. He kept asking, “But why is there a hollow in your soul?”

You shrugged and said, “It doesn’t matter how it got there. What matters is that we have to resolve it.” Then, you proceeded to direct the conversation elsewhere.

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

Dumbledore’s bright blue eyes swept solemnly over the folks standing in his office: Severus Snape, Molly Weasley, Alastor Moody, Minerva McGonagall, Hagrid, Madame Maxine, Remus Lupin… and a big, shaggy black dog.

“Fudge’s refusal to acknowledge that Voldemort is back is unfortunate, but not entirely unprecedented,” Dumbledore said. “The consequence of his denial is even clearer. We must come together once more to defy Voldemort. We must re-establish the Order of the Phoenix.”

Everyone shared the same expression – one of grim resolution.

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

More than three thousand miles away, in America, Tina Scamander had just conveyed the devastating news of Voldemort’s resurrection to Tristan Graves, and Seraphina Picquery.

Tristan held an emergency meeting with the Aurors, and Seraphina held an emergency matter for the courts.

Then, when Tristan came home, he told Susana. She was the only one who wasn’t surprised. “That explains it,” she said knowingly. “For a year now, there’s been no sign of the Obscurial. It’s been too quiet. Albus said he wasn’t being hunted by it, neither am I. We always said the Obscurial would be targeting a Dumbledore or a Grindelwald. But now, it’s not.”

Tristan frowned. “What are you getting at, Susana?”

“I’m saying that it’s found an alternate prey, for the time being, to strengthen itself,” Susana said grimly. “If’s not Dumbledore and it’s me – well, the Obscurial must have found its way to Voldemort.”

Tristan’s eyes flashed with understanding. Yes, Voldemort’s hatred of this world would certainly fuel the Obscurial. He sighed heavily. This is getting very dangerous.

*     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

While it didn’t seem any different on the surface, in fact, the dynamics of the Wizarding World changed almost immediately after Voldemort came back, especially for folks who already lived on the fringes of society.

Dumbledore had made the painful request of asking Remus to infiltrate the werewolves who had chosen to align themselves with Voldemort. Sirius protested violently, but Remus shook his head at Sirius. He quietly accepted the mission.

Unfortunately, Sirius had been right to protest. While there were many pitiful folks among the werewolf Death Eaters (those who were simply tired of discrimination and believed that Voldemort would offer them a fairer life), there were also those who savored the feeling of power, of terrorizing those that dehumanized them. This group, led by Fenrir Greyback, made a point of terrorizing Muggle-born families.

Remus did everything in his power to stop them, but in truth, there was little he could do without blowing his cover. He did, however, manage to send his Patronus to Dumbledore on several occasions, and Order members would arrive on the scene to save the targeted victims.

After several Order ambushes interrupted the missions, Fenrir gathered the pack and growled at them, “Sure as hell exists, one of you is a traitor. Someone has chosen Muggle scum over their own kind.”

Everyone in the pack bristled and shivered. “Traitor,” they hissed. “Traitor. Traitor!”

Raising his arms, Fenrir announced, “So, I will no longer be giving a notice about when our next mission is. Instead, I’ve come to tell you the good news – we have a mission tonight. Right now.”

A thrill of terrible fear ran through Remus. There wouldn’t be time to send a message to Dumbledore if the pack was expected to take off immediately. Remus recognized Fenrir’s cleverness at once. Fenrir was forcing the mole to show themself by putting them in a situation where they had no choice but to go through with the mission or to blatantly expose themselves. Remus wondered dizzily how he was going to prevent Fenrir and the others from infecting their target without blowing his cover.

“Yes, and tonight, we’ll give the Order a little taste of their own medicine,” Fenrir growled, shivering with pleasure at his grand idea of outsmarting the traitor. “We’ve finally managed to track down the house of one of the old Muggle-born Order members. Apparently, even her little brother is a fucking Squib.”

Remus’ heart began to tighten, as though there was a noose around it.

“She hasn’t been seen in an Order mission on a while, but hell if I care. She used to be one of them, and she’s a fucking Mudblood.” Fenrir laughed raspingly. “We’re going to give her a little treat tonight. We’ll upgrade her little brother from a Squib to a werewolf. We should expect a thank-you gift from her soon. ”

Jeering cries of laughter rang out. Remus felt sick to his stomach.

“Who’s the girl, Fenrir?” someone called out excitedly.

Fenrir replied, his yellow eyes narrowing into focus as he prepared himself to run, “Don’t know if you’d remember her, but it’s - ”

Remus’ mind went blank.

The pack howled and then, everyone started to run. In only a few minutes, the full moon would rise, and everyone, including Remus, would turn into their wolf forms.

Someone pushed Remus from behind, shouting at him to go. He stumbled forward, feet tripping, barely staying upright.

Oh, Lovely, Remus whispered in his mind, utterly shaken and pained, what are we going to do?

  Tagged Users: @areomalfoy @saltstacks

#harry potter imagine #harry potter smut #fanfic #fanfiction #foxtail and wolfsbane #rowan scamander #rowan scamander x reader #rowan scamander smut #remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #marauders #marauders era

[dark-magical-ships]

HELLO sorry i’m late the clutches of sleep were too tempting >_< let’s see… how about 2, 3, 4, 7, 22 and 26 for whoever you want!!

HI HI HELLO HI RAINY :3 Lmfao no worries look how long this took me to reply :P ANYWAY LET'S GO <3

Specific Self-Ship Questions

2) You have to leave for an extended period of time. How is your f/o without you for that long? Does anything change about their routine/schedule?

Oh, man. Seto and I haven't been apart for very long in.... hell, it's been years. Since before we were even dating, I think. I think he'd probably be fine but I'd have a hard time adjusting lmfao. First of all, this would not happen because wherever my wife goes, I go. Short of Amy personally telling me not to, nothing would stop me from just going with her, no matter what I have to do to my work schedule to make it happen. Second, she's wrong to think this would not bother me. I can't even sleep without Amy anymore, which the entire reason I moved Kaiba Corporation's office hours around to fit her work schedule. I don't like the idea of spending an extended period of time without her around. Which, again, is why I'd simply go with her. FFF okay well. There. there you have it. i guess. heck XD

3) Do you share a room together? If so, how is it decorated (and did either one of you do it or did both of you contribute)? What kind of stuff do you keep in there?

Oh yeah, Seto and I have shared a room for years. XD We lived together for like five years before we even tied the knot, and I used to stay over at his place really frequently even before that. The bedroom itself is mostly just that; it's where we go to Relax With Intent To Sleep and where we go to change clothes, so there's not an especially busy room. There's a bookshelf with some of our favorite things to read, and a desk with a laptop that basically just runs music or white noise if/when needed. I'm a sucker for smelly things so there's a few scented candles around, and there's my altar with incense/offering plate/religious items. Overall color scheme is warm with darker earth tones and cool blues to balance it out. The bed's a king size four-poster with curtains to help keep the light out, and believe it or not I got him to let me string up some fairy lights for ambience. XD There are some family photos around—mostly Mokuba but now there's some wedding photos too. XD The rest of the house is where the more interesting decor is tbh lol

4) Are there any movies, books, games, music, etc you would show your f/o? Do you think they would like your taste? Are they indifferent or do they need some time to get used or it?

Believe me he's aware basically any and every bit of media I get involved in. XD Most of the games I play, he either plays with me or at least tries out once or twice just so he understands what I'm on about when I start yammering about them. XD Movies and shows, he's often in the room and at least sort-of following when I'm watching them even if it's not really to his interest, although just chilling on the couch and watching stuff together is one of our favorite ways to hang out around the house (aside from gaming together, anyway). Books... I tend to pick up books through our shared Audible library, so I generally go through them on my own only to find out that he listens to them right after I finish :P I think he just likes to stay informed enough about the media I consume to hold an actual conversation about it if it comes up (because it often will lol). We do have some variations on taste—Seto's more exclusively into harder stuff like metal and rock, for example, while I enjoy those genres but also listen to stuff like pop and even country music, and Seto prefers scifi while I'm more into high fantasy or straight-up comedy—but we generally can enjoy each other's stuff pretty amicably.

7) The two of you are at a zoo or an aquarium (you decide). Which section of the place are you two heading toward first? Or do you have different things in mind you wanna see from each other?

Oh man I haven't been to a place like this is years. XD At the zoo, we're definitely heading for the reptile house straight away... but since I'm betting this was Mokuba's idea, we're probably stopping to check out the African animals like the elephants and lions on the way. XD

22) If you’ve ever drawn/written about your f/o, how would they react to it? Or alternatively, how would you think they would react to your blog and all the things you’ve said gushing about them?

Okay so. This question is... actually really hard to answer and I think part of the answer is that it depends on like.... which Seto we ask, kinda? And this is something I've been trying to figure out for like a week, right? So. I self-ship with the fictional character, Seto Kaiba. That's been part of my life since really before Tumblr or Twitter or even Facebook existed. His presence in my life in one capacity or another predates my internet presence, or any creative project I have ever done in my entire life. But how much of that has been self-shipping/self-insert fiction as in making stuff up with blorbo from my shows, and how much has been a genuine relationship—first platonic and then romantic—with the real headmate I didn't know existed who had assumed the blorbo's identity? DID forms in early childhood, and he's probably not the first headmate I ever had, but he is the most distinct one, and likely appeared around the same time I first recruited him as a sort of protector best friend. Talk about a mind-fuck, right? So, if I were to separate the headmate and in-system relationship from the selfship with the fictional character, I'd probably do it be making the division point a matter of what universe it takes place in. If I'm placing myself in yugioh canon and our relationship is based on shared events in that universe, it's the selfship. If it's Seto in my real everyday life and I pulled him out of his world to help me and this is the 20-year friends to lovers wildness that makes up the bulk of this relationship, that would be the in-system relationship with the real dude who lives in my head. Okay... F/O Seto would probably be torn between being kind of touched that Naomi was taking the time to write about how they first came to fall in love, and being kind of uncomfortable at the thought of having some of his most vulnerable moments written about and left where anyone could read about them. If he saw Naomi running this blog, he'd probably be trying very hard to hide how deeply it affects him to see her writing hundreds and hundreds of words just on the subject of how completely and utterly she adores him. Well, he'd try to hide it from everyone else; with her, he'd tell her outright he's not sure how to handle it but he wants to do everything in his power to live up to the things she says about him, and then there would probably be a lot of kissing :P lol

Headmate Seto.... he knows. He's been here all along for all of it. He's even contributed to some of my posts on this blog—whether it was to answer questions posed directly to him or to voice his own opinion anyway when he feels it's warranted (see above). He's frequently helped with dialogue, not just his own but sometimes for other characters as well, sometimes from entirely different fandoms if my take on them is inspired by him in some way (several selfship oneshots for Fenris leap immediately to mind). And realizing that he not only knows but actively helps with these things sometimes has been sort of an emotional roller coaster, honestly, like..... Gods, he sees the insane posting I do on here??? This blog's not even a year old but it's extremely close to hitting 2000 posts and the vast majority are all about him and him specifically. Not the purely fictional or canon Seto, but the one in my head. My Seto. And like he actively encourages this lmfao. When I finally stopped insisting that there was no way he was really a headmate and that was just wishful thinking, when I finally let myself accept that he's real on some level and I'm not just making him up.... He was overjoyed. He's still overjoyed, like you almost wouldn't believe Seto Kaiba is capable of that kind of sustained level of sheer happiness but. Whenever he's close to the front or directly co-fronting with me now it's just. Continuous. The emotional baseline for him is higher than with anyone else in the system; it's how I've been able to start really picking out when he's up front and go "oh, I'm Seto right now" and actually recognize his presence in the moment instead of after the fact, which is something I don't have with any other system members yet. He's just so incredibly happy, it's amazing, and kind of humbling, because like.... he's happy because to use his words, his work finally paid off. Years of loving me but knowing I thought I was imagining it, years of convincing me to write about us and even about other characters because it was the only way he could make me feel loved even if it was just a fraction of what he wanted to give me. Years of dragging my attention toward the subject of multiplicity. Months of encouraging me to talk about us here on tumblr when I found the community, and to even "come out" about us with a few trusted people outside the community in the hopes that one of them might help me see that "hey, that character you're in love with and you've written so much fic about, did you know you straight-up channel that guy sometimes because it's wild how much you talk like him in X/Y/Z situations." And like... ultimately I don't think I really can separate the selfship from the headmate at this point. Outside of the constraints of the universes of the specific fanfics I've written, I really don't think I can really tell where the fantasy ship ends and the in-system relationship begins.... there's just too much history, and a good half of our life was (and is) devoted to a selfship that was basically the vehicle through which Seto and I built and maintained our real relationship because I was too afraid of losing my mind to realize he a real part of me, even after I'd literally been diagnosed with the disorder famous for creating "multiple personalities." That's not going away now, either; it's just that bond runs... deeper, now. I guess the tl;dr is that he's very supportive and very happy about my writing and blog about him lmfao. Actually I think he's even sort of considering starting his own blog to inflict the same kind of bombardment of love and adoration upon me in return now, but he's never been much for social media so. We'll see lmfao.

26) [for a platonic/familial f/o and a romantic f/o] how does this platonic/familial f/o feel about them? Are they on good terms or did that take time to achieve? Would you consider them friends or at least somewhat close?

Lmfaooooo so opting not to take the easy road on this and go "Seto and Mokuba adore each other obviously," let's go with the most chaotic matchup I have for you here: Seto, and Jonouchi. You would think Seto and Jou would hate each other for all time. You would be correct...... but also incorrect. I dunno if I've ever seen a case of "volatile best buds" more intense than theirs. Walk into a room containing these two men and you can practically feel the decades of dislike between them. Seto thinks Jou is irritating, obnoxious, irresponsible, way too fucking extroverted, more than a little dumb, way too willing to jump into things without any forethought OR clue what he's doing OR reason to expect to succeed, and just generally a gigantic headache to interact with. Jou thinks Seto is rude, elitist, arrogant, an asshole, also irresponsible but in a completely different way, too mistrustful, a massive stick in the mud, entirely too serious, an endless source of frustration, unfairly good at games, and just generally a colossal pain in the ass to interact with. They are on a permanent last-names-and-insults-only basis. They will take shots at each other just because an opportunity presented itself. They will openly describe each other in unquestionably derogatory terms to both complete strangers and to mutual friends. Either of them would take a bullet for the other without a second thought. When the chips are down, they have each other's backs. They can work together as a team with surprising efficiency, and will come to each other's defense or assistance without being asked. I asked Jou to be in my wedding party but Seto had gotten to him first. There was a roughly two week period when we weren't sure Mokuba would be able to get away from school for the wedding, and during that time, Jou and Atem were seriously competing over who was going to be the backup for taking Mokuba's place as Seto's best man. I dunno what it is man, their relationship went from "antagonistic at best" to "our antagonism is now how we express friendship." To put it in Jou's own words,

#q&a #friends #rainy #🐉💙 cocoashipping 💙🐉 #thank you so much for the asks friend!! <3 :D #platonic f/o: katsuya