#i. almost forgot to add that woops

[mha-atdr]

*throws my mha oc into this account for no reason*

anywayyy i'll probably start posting on this account again soon when i get the motivation (and asks) but yea ^^;

[lizzaneia-elizalde]

Yandere! Male! idol x manager! gn! reader

WOOOH finally able to update. I got busy due to working for a summer reading camp. Woop tee doo... At least I got money for a new phone LMAO

And we finally, FINALLY finished the second set of yans! For now, no new yans will be done, and will be focusing on the boys!

Song featured: Too Sweet by Hozier

EDIT: I FORGOT THAT I MADE ELIAS THE SIBLING OF THE YAN! IDOL AND ALREADY NAMED HIM ZAYNE! I'll probably just change Zayne's to Tae-Joon.

Yan! Idol name: Raven/Tae-Joon

The deafening lights and cheers of the people in the gigantic stadium rang around the building. They kept cheering, almost shaking the whole place from their energy.

As the band started playing the intro song, the cheers suddenly amped up in intensity with the focus going back on the stage. Each and every lightstick glowed red, flooding the whole area with a scarlet hue.

The bass pumped, the music riffed, the vibe electric.

The stage fogged up, covering the whole place before the cheering got louder when a appeared in the fog.

Then, there he is.

"HOW'S IT GOING CITY OF [redacted]!"

A charismatic, boyish smile, with pearly white teeth that blinded the secret paparazzi in the crowd, with a tall and lean stature that encompasses talent and discipline in one body, and facial features that make people swoon even in just his photocards.

"RAVEN! RAVEN! RAVEN!"

The man, the idol named Raven, started to sing. His voice was smooth and low as the romantic yet also sensual lyrics pour out of his pink lips.

It can't be said I'm an early bird

It's ten o'clock before I say a word

Baby, I can never tell

How do you sleep so well?

He goes up to the edge, swinging around the mic stand as if it was a dance partner. One can hear the passion going off in his tone as his messy hair got flipped upward.

Don't you just wanna wake up, dark as a lake?

Smelling like a bonfire, lost in a haze?

If you're drunk on life, babe, I think it's great

But while in this world

He gets on the middle of the stage, and the pedestal raised as the spotlight went to him.

I think I'll take my whiskey neat

My coffee black and my bed at three

You're too sweet for me

You're too sweet for me

Everyone was seduced, everyone was mesmerized. Raven gave off seductive energy that they held their breath every time his gaze penetrates them. And some even assumed his gaze was on theirs, making them squeal.

It was truly a night for everyone in the stadium.

After almost two hours of performing, Raven, with sweat pouring out of him but still managed to look amazing, descended down on the stage hatch.

But the once shining star back in the stage suddenly threw his beret on the ground.

"FUCK! What was that buzzing sound in the dance break?!" Raven yelled. "Are you serious?! I thought we went over this!"

The people in the back started to groan inwardly. There he goes again.

"Ah... Tae-Joon..." The director said, "We made sure to reprimand the lights and sounds..."

Raven, or rather Tae-Joon off stage, clicked his tongue in anger. "Whatever. Bring me my coffee! I need a break."

"But you can just go home after the cleanup. Do you still want coffee?"

A naive voice said, obviously new to the scene as she juggle with her box of wires.

She's a big fan of Raven and pulled a lot of strings just to be there. A bit bold, she decided to be the concerned type of staff and berate him of his beverage choice.

Yet she absolutely cannot see the pale faces and the dread sticking on the visages of the people around her. She's in too deep in her tunnel vision of Raven to notice his microphone cracking. Another thing to add to the casualties.

"You... What's your name?" Raven glowered. The fan can feel her heart rate pick up as she told her name. "Oh. You're new. All i could say is..."

Raven got up to her and glared at her much smaller form "You're fired. Get out! Nobody gets to dictate what I damn drink!"

The woman was too stunned to speak as she got dragged out of the venue.

This is Raven. Or in real life, Tae-Joon. A charming man in his own right, in front of the public, he's a gentleman with a seductive touch. Talented, with a handsome visage, he's an international idol.

But in reality, he's one hell of a spoiled brat.

"I WANT MY COFFEE NOW!"

Somehow, because of his sheer dumb luck and his reputation, nobody from his staff decided to expose him for what he really is.

He's full of himself and loves to gloat about his own achievements. And one thing he makes sure to take advantage of is his looks.

He brushes his hair back, shaking off sweat (ew) yet somehow looks so ethereal as he clicked his tongue in annoyance, mesmerizing his staff.

He even went as far as to feed his delusional fans and stans.

He's that far gone.

"Where the hell is my coffee!"

"AY COFFEE!"

He's awful to everyone.

Except...

"Tsk. Tae-Joon... If I hear you yell one more time!"

Raven cowers a bit, pouting as he slithers towards his manager.

"But manager~!"

As if he's a new person, Raven clung to you. His head on your shoulder as he played with your left hand.

"I want my coffee and none of these incompetent people are giving me my coffee!" He whined like a child complaining to his parent. "Scold them for me pwease!"

The staff, used to it, sighed in relief as your deadpan look didn't tolerate Raven's rudeness. On your right hand is his coffee that you handed to him.

"Manager! Thank you so much!" His eyes wide and appreciative, he sips on it and sighs in relief. "Ah... So good... This is why I love you, manager."

Goodness. He's putty in your hands.

Tae-Joon was once a trainee. He's naturally good looking already so he's being pulled left and right by companies to be in their side. He's an uncut gem, a diamond in the rough waiting to be polished. They saw his potential and wanted a slice of his being.

The once sweet boy, hardened by the harsh training, became a gloating hardhead from the way these people fight for him. After all, he was just a quiet, ambitious guy in highschool. He wanted more, and he got it through hard work and natural charm. And now, years later, he's about to reach his dreams.

Yet once he got in the company of his choice, his demands were... Too much.

"I need to share a dorm with others? No way!"

"Ugh the mattress is too stiff."

"Seriously?! You want me to train for five hours a day?! Two hours! Just two hours!"

"What are these clothes?! These are not branded!"

"No way that I'm performing in that small stage. I don't care if I'm pre-debut, that is ass!"

"Trash beats. Next."

The company was exhausted. He's not even raking money in, yet he's too demanding for his own good.

Desperate, the company opened their doors for a babysitter manager that has a "calm and pleasing personality", "trait that can work in high stress situations", "adaptability", "great leadership skills and authoritative", and can "teach those who are under them". Aka: someone who can tame the damn bird.

That's where you came in.

You were just a fresh graduate in desperate need of a job. Nobody was hiring you since you're new, and needed more experience.

The hiring process was intense, to say the least. You had to herd rowdy children and change them to upright good kids in 10 days. You somehow did it and even got gifts from the grateful parents. Next, you had to juggle schedules and ridiculous demands. Then, you had to endure being yelled and insulted at.

Your mind, heart, and body are now made of steel from that hiring process and you're the only one who rose to the top.

"Congratulations. Here's your care. His name is Tae-Joon, stage name Raven." The head said, nervous and hopeful that you with Tae-Joon will change his attitude.

Tae-Joon raised an eyebrow and sneered. "Ugly."

You were flabbergasted. This is a supposed to be future idol?

But you can only manage a twitch on your lips.

It was hell with him. You thought the hiring process/training regimen was bad, but this was something else.

A explosive personality, he's sassy and mean to a point of wanting to face palm through your head. You had to physically reel him in at some point just because of a hater.

But unlike the others who cowered and tolerated his behavior, you were stern with his behavior and lectured him most of the time.

"You can't just yell at miss Park just because she messed up your order!"

"Get the hell up! You're going to be late to your training!"

"Who the heck do you think you are, ripping up clothes like that huh?!"

You were feisty in your own right and constantly butt heads with him.

But even then, even just with you around, he's just a growling beast cowering from your lectures as you yelled at him.

Yet, even if as you yell at him, your caring hands wiped his sweat off and gave him his water. If somebody actually messed with him, you would lecture that guy. And there are some times that you laugh at his antics and shake your head.

You treated him like an actual human with feelings, rather than a ticking time bomb.

Slowly but surely, Tae-Joon clung to you. You were his only ally in this godforsaken industry and the only one who understood him. You also didn't tolerate his personality and shaped him to be somehow decent.

And, as his manager, you cared for him like nobody did.

Your lectures became less frequent, and he had more instances to see where you smile at him proudly as he finally had his solo debut. More time to talk to him normally, and had small, intimate moments that fuels his social needs.

And as his fame skyrocket, you were always there, waving his lightstick and being his number one fan.

Understandably, he fell for you.

He started to be openly affectionate with you, constantly confessing his love to the point that management had to tell him off to stop being so open with his affection since paparazzi can take a video or picture and ruin his reputation.

He honestly doesn't care. But with you raising an eyebrow at him, he pouts and only becomes clingy in private.

He'd rather hold it in than nothing at all.

And hell be damned if someone took you away from him. Because he may be somehow tolerable now, but that's only because you're there with him.

Raven just got back from practicing for his new song, and was totally exhausted. He dragged his feet, clearly irritable especially that you weren't there with him.

The staff knew he's not in a good mood so they steer clear of his way.

"Have you seen my manager?" Raven asked a staff who only shook their head. "'kay..."

He looks so depressed that the people around him took pity on the guy as he trudged towards the head.

He passed a meeting room and he heard your voice.

"Another Tae-Joon?"

Another him? What?

He decided to listen in and he heard the managerial head clear his throat.

"Yes. Since Raven is calmer now, we think he needs to move on to another manager. You, on the other hand, will be training another... Hothead."

You held your head, feeling a headache incoming.

"No way. I'm not going through that again. I went through hell with Tae-Joon before. I'm not repeating that."

Ouch. Tae-Joon held his chest, a bit saddened by your words. Well, it was true but it didn't mean it didn't hurt.

Yet... You're not going to be his manager anymore?

Strangely, he felt the numbness creeping up his nape.

"No buts, y/n. You're going to be transfered."

"Did you ask Tae-Joon about this?"

"... Yes, Raven gave the thumbs up."

Liar. LIAR!

Tae-Joon wanted to rush in the room and shake the managerial head until he faints. He didn't give the thumbs up at all!

But he's strangely rooted in place as he heard you sigh.

"Okay. Where's this guy?"

"His name is [redacted]. He'll be here by Monday so be prepared."

When you finally finished the meeting, you went out of the room yet felt a lingering warmth by the wall.

Meanwhile, Tae-Joon rushed towards the trainee building. Eyes cold yet body tense. He wanted to see who the hell is this [redacted]. Nobody, as in nobody will be yours. Only he can be yours.

The trainees were flabbergasted as they saw Raven in the flesh, gawking at his presence and bowing in respect.

Tae-Joon didn't care. He wanted to see where this [redacted] is.

Room 5, and he bursts open through the door.

"What the hell- Raven?" The guy was slack jawed, starstruck. "I'm- I'm a big fan--"

Tae-Joon grabbed his collar and looked him in the eye. It was filled with unbridled rage yet at the same time, bone chilling coldness.

"Fix your fucking attitude." Tae-Joon warned. "Don't be over your head, worm. You better be goddamn nice or else I'll lob your head off."

[redacted] felt like it wasn't just a baseless joke, so he swallowed his saliva and nodded.

"Now. I better see you demand a transfer to the group idol department. You hear me? You aren't debuting solo." Tae-Joon tightened his grip. "Understood?"

It reached the ears of the head that Tae-Joon threatened [redacted]. But don't know what. All they know is that [redacted] pleaded to debut in a group and was suddenly meek and quiet when he transfered departments.

Yet, they somehow knew it had to do something with you, as he clung to you desperately for a week after that.

Then and there, they knew to never, ever try to separate you from him. If they don't want to let go of their greatest asset and set him off.

So, despite how dangerous Raven has become, they forced [redacted] to be quiet by... Not so savorable means.

"You're not leaving me, right?" Tae-Joon whispered, looking exhausted yet satisfied as he hugged your waist.

You, who just realized how deep Tae-Joon is in his affection, sighed and rubbed his head. "I'm not."

And it better stay that way.

[electricalcheese]

hi chat any1 remember when i got obsessed with toa and mostly apollo (okay maybe not i didn't make art of him much on tumblr but i WAS obsessed he was the only character i thought about)..

because i'm here with a fanart of him after like.. *checks notes* 8 months??? wowie

oh yeah i missed toapril.. woops.. also wtf i almost forgot to add the acne 💔💔💔 yeah idk how to dtaw it but i tried to incorporate it

wow coming back to pjo makes me yap more like i used to

also ummm art improvement under cut i think?? idk i'm proud of how car i've come :33

[ao3feed-undertale1]

Stay With Me

read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/55536853 by hahachiknfunny (cross posted on Quotev) Your life is- no, was perfect. So so perfect - the perfect family, the perfect house, perfect friends, perfect boyfriend. But then he screwed it all up. Your life? Your perfect little life? It felt like it was over (it's not, you're just in a severe depression now). Your thankful to have your best friend (crush) still with you. And the large mansion you inherited when your father died - you were grateful to be part of such a rich family. As your city rebuilds itself, you face new problems. A bunch of skeletons, coming out of nowhere and unable to leave your home; not only that, but alternative versions of four of your best friends too. It's...an odd predicament, however the company you don't mind. It's just the fact that you're basically the only girl in the house you mind. Words: 1130, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Fandoms: Undertale (Video Game), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: F/F, F/M Characters: Sans (Undertale), Sans Ensemble (Undertale), Papyrus (Undertale), Papyrus Ensemble (Undertale), Leonardo (TMNT), Raphael (TMNT), Donatello (TMNT), Michelangelo (TMNT), Reader, Original Characters Relationships: Sans (Undertale)/Reader, Papyrus (Undertale)/Reader, Leonardo (TMNT)/Reader, Raphael (TMNT)/Reader, Donatello (TMNT)/Reader, Michelangelo (TMNT)/Reader, Original Character(s)/Reader Additional Tags: fem reader - Freeform, Reader Is Not Frisk (Undertale), Reader Is Not Chara (Undertale), Reader is OC, but not given a name just pronouns and OC-based reactions/famly/backstory, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Depression, this bitch has been depressed for four years how r they not dead, POV Second Person, POV Third Person Omniscient, No Smut, sorry smut readers, (I am not sorry), no beta we die like baxtor stockman 1987, Yandere, I ALMOST FORGOT TO ADD THAT TAG WOOPS, sorry yandere haters its literally my iconic fanfic symbol 🫡, u see a yandere tag u need to think of me immediately read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/55536853

[strawberri-draws]

Pov: saiki saves time by telling everyone who’s ever had a crush on him He's aroace at once

[caspercryptid]

hiiiii I really adore how you write jayvik 🥺👉👈 if you are so inclined, what about Viktor meeting Jayce’s mom for the first time over the holidays/new years? Jayvik can either be established or “““good friends””” or whatever you like!!! Your characterization is a blessing. ❤️

I'm going to softly admit that i've never written Ximena before (all of the fic bits with her in them in Cowboy For Christmas were my beloved partner's doing) so I hope this passes muster! Just gonna do a modern AU to save myself the headache, and since I usually write Viktor as jewish, lets go new years.

Thanks for the request, as always. I think this is another part 1. woops!

--

Viktor isn't worried.

After all, why would he be? what reason does he possibly have to be worried. He's heard plenty about Ximena- Jayce talked about his mother all the time, she cooked for them and forced Jayce to bring him food, he was sure, given how much Jayce talked, that she'd heard just as much about him, if not more.

So why would he be worried?

He's still repeating the question to himself as Jayce parks in front of the house. It's a very nice house. Viktor can't convince his legs to move.

Jayce notices, because of course he notices, damn him, and looks over. "V?" he prompts, soft.

We're just friends, Viktor reminds himself. This isn't like meeting in-laws, because they're just friends. It doesn't mean anything. You're his lab partner. There's nothing to be afraid of. What does it matter if she doesn't like you?

"Viktor." Jayce prompts again, sounding more worried, and ah. He'd forgotten to run the generic placation subroutine.

"I'm fine." Viktor says. "I think the cold has locked my knee up a bit. Do you have one of the hot pads we can put on it for a minute before I climb out?"

Jayce lunges for the console to get a hot-pad so fast that Viktor almost feels guilty. At least it was only a half-lie. He shakes it out and presses it to Viktor's leg, and Viktor lets out a breath, soothed just as much by Jayce's proximity as the warmth. "I hope your mother's not minding us idling the car out front." He says, dryly. "She might assume we're canoodling."

He's rewarded with a little flush from Jayce.

"Don't say canoodling." he counters, even still looking a little flustered. "Are you eighty?"

"Only spiritually. And perhaps by my joints's measure. That's enough, I think, come give me a hand down."

Now or never.

Jayce is quick to get out of the car and come around to offer Viktor a hand- Viktor has a certain appreciation for Jayce's truck, he really does, it's saved them carrying equipment countless times- but the massive step down is not something he enjoys.

Well, maybe a bit, because when he can't quite get his leg down properly Jayce leans in to offer his shoulders as a support, and Viktor can wrap an arm around Jayce's neck and let Jayce help him down, and he doesn't mind that, not even a bit.

He does slightly mind the fact that his arms are still around Jayce when his mother opens the door.

She raises her eyebrows. "Jayce." She calls, putting her hands on her hips. "Introductions first, Mijo-"

"I was just--" Jayce sighs, giving up, and lets go of Viktor, who pulls loose and comes over to shake Ximena's hand. "Viktor." He says. "It's a pleasure, i've heard all about you."

She smiles, and Viktor instantly relaxes. All of the feigned disapproval is gone immediately, and she clasps his hand in both of hers as she shakes it.

"It's wonderful to meet the boy my son spends all his time with." She says, and ah. Viktor can hear the note in that, but she hasn't said it outright, so he can't deny it. He just smiles.

"Your son is the best partner I could ask for."

He realizes, when there's the sound behind him of Jayce slipping on a patch of ice in the driveway, that he forgot to add the lab part. He doesn't have any particular regrets- or at least, not once he looks back and makes sure Jayce hasn't hurt himself, and he hasn't, he's just clutching the car door frame for dear life. "Jayce." he calls, tone innocent. "Are you alright?"

"Fine!"

Hm.

Viktor's had quite a bit of time to wonder if Jayce felt the same way. He never quite had a definitive answer- little blushes, reactions. He glances sideways at Ximena, who seems completely unsuprised.

Well.

This should be an interesting holiday.

"Watch your footing, dear." Viktor calls, tone innocent, and Jayce almost falls again.

Yeah, Viktor's got a plan.

[bookwyrminspiration]

hehe wip. specific to the a/b/o verse i think im gonna call this one "know your place"

(also, im still constantly rewriting bronte's backstory. orville peck's cover of fancy is the vibe im going for in this au.)

WAH I can't believe I forgor this was in my inbox it's so lovely!! Please forgive me I meant to gush over this sooner--I know you've already posted the finished product and I've reblogged it and all that but like. Your sketches are so nice!

I love that you actually title your art, almost everything of mine is just "Untitled Artwork" or a descriptive title like "wings au echo" or something. But the Know Your Place adds so much to the context and interaction with the drawing! Also within the a/b/o universe because that is. A pretty important aspect of that worldbuilding/social system, from what I know.

And candle lighting!! makes everything so interesting to look at the way you've lit it. I love sketches that have cool lighting in greyscale it's like!! All the detail without color makes you focus on them more because you aren't distracted by it.

Also don't know if i noticed that curtain thing behind her in the final piece, so woop! Now I know the details of the final piece better because of the sketch.

Anyway, my point is this is a lovely sketch for a lovely piece and I am very honored to see it, even though i completely forgot it was in my inbox for a little while. Thank you for sharing!

[thoughtfulfangirling]

Speaking of blogging about books, it's been a while since I reblogged my reading list this year. A very large portion of stuff I read this year ended up being pretty short. My nonfiction continues to almost always be under 300 pages and I've done quite a few novellas (spouse and I have been enjoying the Murderbot books even if we've only done three at this point).

I also see I forgot to add that I did finish The Glass Castle so it's not on the list but should be. Woops. I'll fix that later when I'm not on mobile. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

2023 Reads

A new year means a new book list! I don't think I can top my 2022 count, but that's okay! I'm not totally sure what my reading goals this year will actually be, but I guess I'll sort it out on the way! XD

Four Treasures of the Sky - Jenny Tinghui Zhang

Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass - Frederick Douglass+

The Bear and the Nightengale - of the Winternight Trilogy by Katherine Arden

The Secrets We Keep - Mia Hayes

Indian Nations of Wisconsin: Histories of Endurance and Renewal - Patty Loew+

The First Sister - Linden A. Lewis^

The House of the Seven Gables - Nathaniel Hawthorne=

The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian - Sherman Alexie

Fahrenheit 451 - Ray Bradbury~

Fin Mac Cool - Morgan Llewlyn^

How Long 'til Black Future Month by N. K. Jemisin

Lavinia - Ursula K Le Guin^

Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austin*

Black Cowboys of the Old West: True, Sensational, and Littke-Known Stories form History - Tricia Martineau Wagner+

The Mysteries of Thorn Manor - Margaret Roberson%

Disfigured: On Fairy Tales, Disability, and Making Space - Amanda Leduc+

Her Majesty's Royal Coven - Juno Dawson^

She Who Became the Sun~ - Shelley Parker-Chan*

The Witch King - H.E. Edgmon^

Love in the Time of Cholera - Gabriel Garcia Marquez

Legends & Lattes - Travis Baldree*

Mistress of the Art of Death - Ariana Franklin^

The Adventures of Amina El-Serafi - S.A. Chakraborty

Humankind: A Hopeful History - Rutger Bregman+

The Folk Keeper - Frannie Billingsly*%

Believe Me: A Memoir of Love, Death, and Jazz Chickens - (Suzy) Eddie Izzard+

Juniper & Thorn - Ava Reid

Upright Women Wanted - Sarah Gailey%

I Await the Devil's Coming - Mary MacLane+

Slaughterhouse Five - Kurt Vonnegut~

Revolting Prostitutes: The Fight for Sex Workers' Rights - Molly Smith & Juno Mac+

The Woman in White - Wilke Collins^

King of Battle and Blood - Scarlett St. Clair

Sarah - J.T. LeRoy^

The City Beautiful - Aden Polydoros^

Freshwater - Akwaeke Emezi

Always the Almost - Edward Underhill

All Systems Red - Martha Wells%

The Song of Achilles - Madeline Miller

Nevada - Imogen Binnie

A Dowry of Blood - S. T. Gibson

The Prince - Niccolo Machiavelli

The Second Rebel - Linden A Lewis

Get a Life Chloe Brown - Talia Hibbert

The Hero and the Crown* - Robin McKinley

What Happened to You?: Conversations on Trauma, Resilience, and Healing - Bruce D Perry & Oprah Winfrey+^

Can't Spell Treason Without Tea - Rebecca Thorne

The Eye of the Heron - Ursula K Leguin

Artificial Condition -Martha Wells%

The Kraken's Sacrifice - Katee Robert%

Crown Duel - Sherwood Smith*

Rogue Protocol - Martha Wells%

Remarkably Bright Creatures - Shelby Van Pelt

Adult Children of Emotionally Immature Parents: How to Heal from Distant, Rejecting, or Self Involved Parents - Lindsay C Gibson+

Wildcat: The Untold Story of Pearl Hart, the Wild West's Most Notorious Woman Bandit - John Boessenecker+

The History of Wales - History Nerds+%

Ander & Santi Were Here - Jonny Garza Villa

Rosemary and Rue - Seanan McGuire^

Currently reading: One Last Stop (Audiobook to help me sleep XD)

Nonfiction is annotated by + A Re-read is annotated by * A book completed from the list below is annotated by ^ A Read with Empty will be annotated by ~ A Doc Book Club= A Novella %

My current, loose and not that interesting goal for this year is to really work on the books I have current access to right now... at the start of this year. Because it's a lot XD This means books currently favorite in Scribd, on my StoryGraph 'to read' pile, or a book I currently own on my shelves. Main goal is at least one of these a month.

For my own personal reference, I'm putting a list of such books below to hold myself accountable.

Black Water Sister by Zen Cho

Blood Scion by Deborah Falaye (o)

The Book of M by Peng Shepard (o)

Can't Spell Treason without Tea by Rebecca Thorne (o)

Charity and Sylvia by Rachel Hope Cleves (o)

The City Beautiful by Aden Polydoros (s)

The Cruel Prince by Holly Black (a)

The Echo Wife by Sarah Gailey (s)

Fallen by Lauren Kate (o)

Fanny Hill by John Cleland (o)

Felix Ever After by Kacen Callender (s)

Finn Mac Cool by Morgan Llewlyn (o)

The First Sister by Linden A Lewis (s)

Get a Life, Chloe Brown by Talia Hibbert (s)

The Glass Castle by Jeannette Walls (o)

The Glass Woman by Caroline Lea (s)

The Great Hunger by Cecil Woodham-Smith (o)

Haunted Wisconsin by Michael Norman and Beth Scott (o)

Helping Her Get Free by Susan Brewster (o)

Her Majesty's Royal Coven by Juno Dawson (o)

I Await the Devil's Coming by Mary MaClane

The Impossible Girl by Lydia Kang (s)

The Kraken's Sacrifice by Katee Robert (o)

Lavinia by Ursula Le Guin(o)

Love Her or Lose Her by Tessa Bailey (s)

Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold (o)

The Merry Spinster by Daniel Lavery (o)

Mistress of the Art of Death (o)

Nevada by Imogen Binnie (o)

On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous by Ocean Vuong (o)

The Poppy War by R. F. Kuang (s)

The Prince by Niccolo Machiavelli (o)

Radiance by Grace Draven (a)

Rosemary and Rue by Seanan McGuire (s)

The Ruins by Scott Smith (s)

The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller (s)

Sarah by J.T. LeRoy (o)

Vampire Forensics by Mark Collins Jenkins (o)

What Happened to You? by Oprah Winfrey (s)

Watching the Tree by Adeline Yen Mah (o)

The Willows by Algernon Blackwood (s)

Wings of Fire (o)

The Witch King (s)(o)

Witches Steeped in Gold by Clannon Smart (o)

The Woman in White by Wilkie Collins (s)

The Wolf and the Woodsman by Ava Reid (s)

The parens beside each helps me know where I have access to the book. Obviously I do not plan to complete all of these. But it's the potential list! XD

[thexanwillshine]

a;lskfjdk

Author: thexanwillshine (twitter, ao3) Pairings: Levi x Hange Cross-Postings: AO3 Notes: made for Day 2: Confessions of Levihan Week 2021

“But Levi,” Hange whines as she slumps her head on the back of her sofa and closes her eyes. “Kissing scenes are so tricky to write.”

Perhaps it’s the fact that it’s almost 5:30 in the morning. It could also be because he's tired from lack of sleep. Whatever the case, Levi Ackerman’s filter completely disappears when he asks, “Do you need a demonstration?”

Levi Ackerman can argue that every writer he’s met is always a little bit more eccentric than the average person, but no one proves his theory more than Hange Zoë.

Hange wakes him up in the middle of the night, voice screeching on the phone in her excitement. He responds groggily—as one does when their sleep is disturbed at an ungodly hour by an overly-excited author who acts as if they’ve just found out the answers to the universe—and tries to keep himself sober enough to understand what in the goddamn fuck Hange was talking about this time.

“Levaaiiii,” she says, drawling out his name in a manner that was both annoying and endearing, “I’ve figured it out!”

He can almost imagine the look on her face: starry-eyed in her joy, mouth stretched wide into a grin, fingers shaking as she bounces in glee, shifting her weight from the heels of her feet to the tips of her toes . . .

And Levi exhales in both relief and the tiniest hint of delight, because this is exactly how he wants Hange to be: happy .

Nevertheless, he replies “Figured what out?” snarkily.

Hange’s response comes out quickly, as if she needed to say everything that had to be said in the span of five seconds or less. “So you know how I’ve been trying to write a fiction novel because I wanted to get out of my comfort zone?”

Levi hums in acknowledgement as he fixes the covers over his legs before turning on his bedside lamp. He leans back on the bed frame and closes his eyes to listen to her ramble.

“So I was thinking, I wanted to write a romance novel, because you know how people fall in love and stuff?”

“No Hange, I’ve never heard of that concept in my entire life,” Levi says in a deadpan voice.

Hange laughs, because of course she would know that’s his pathetic attempt at lighthearted conversation. Levi is glad that she knows him better than most people, and it is this sense of familiarity that made him feel particularly comfortable when graced with her presence.

“Just because you’ve never fallen in love before doesn’t mean it’s not real, Levi!” Hange tells him in jest.

Wrong, Levi thinks.

“After all, you’ve probably never wanted to kiss someone your entire life!”

Wrong, Levi thinks.

“Sure, Hange.”

He rolls his eyes at her teasing, because yes, Levi has fallen in love—and maybe, just maybe, he’s still on the road to understanding what it meant to treasure someone far more than just a regular friend.

He shakes off such thoughts before maneuvering Hange back to the initial reason why she had called. “So, what did you want to tell me?”

“I finished,” she proclaims on the phone, her voice proud, “I finished writing the first ten chapters.”

Levi blinks in confusion before sitting straight up, the information processing in his mind that was still a bit drunk with sleep. “You what?” “I couldn’t stop writing,” Hange told him sheepishly, detecting the slightest hint of concern in her editor’s voice, “I’ve been writing for the past 24 or so hours. Maybe more.”

Levi grunts in annoyance, pulling the covers away from his body and jumping out of his unmade bed. He runs a hand through his dark locks, sighing. “Four-eyes, you need to get some sleep.”

“But Levi,” Hange says in protest, “I need you to read my draft. There are some parts I just don’t think are super natural.”

“And I was sleeping like a regular human being,” Levi retorted as he shrugged off his shorts. After that, he put on jeans that he had recently washed before patting down the shirt he was wearing in a pathetic attempt to get rid of the wrinkles that had accumulated while he tossed and turned in bed.

“Oh my gosh, Levi, I didn’t realize the time!” Hange replies, and he can almost feel her guilt starting to set in. “You should go back to sleep,” she immediately adds. “Take care of yourself!”

Levi slips on his rubber shoes and grabs his umbrella before answering. “Coming from you? Not that credible.”

Hange laughs light-heartedly, and his heart flutters just a tiny bit. Levi pushes the feeling away almost as quickly as it had come.

“Have you eaten?” he asks, almost dreading the reply.

There was none.

“Hange,” he calls, but there’s still no response. “Hange. Answer me,” he says firmly, prodding her on. “Have you eaten?”

The laughter that comes out from the other end is nervous. “Woops.”

Levi sighs. He opens his car door and slips inside smoothly, grabbing his keys from his pocket and starting the engine. “Hange, you’re supposed to eat.”

“Sorry,” she tells him honestly. “I really didn’t want to ruin my momentum. I can’t believe I forgot.” She mumbles her second sentence, sounding almost deep in thought. “I’ll go find food now! Want me to email you the working draft? You can look at it in the morning when you wake up.”

“No need,” Levi tells her, placing his phone on his dashboard and accelerating his car. “I’m on the way.”

“Levi!” Hange exclaimed excitedly as she heard her doorbell ring at around four in the morning.

She rushes to the door in delight, opening it to reveal Levi standing in front of her, a paper bag in his hand and a jacket half-heartedly slung over his shoulder.

“Hi,” he greets calmly, before walking inside and letting himself in.

Inwardly, Hange thanks whatever god is out there for her foresight. Her unit was relatively clean since she hadn’t really done anything since Levi’s last visit. The place seemed to pass Levi’s health protocols, since he sat on her couch and placed the paper bag on the table right across from him.

“Eat,” he tells her, crossing his arms over his chest.

Hange grins, before plopping down beside him and opening the paper bag. “What did you get me?”

“You’ll see.”

She raises an eyebrow at his ambiguity, before taking a glimpse inside the paper bag.

The smell of quesadillas immediately fills the room, and Hange lets out a soft squeal, taking out the food from the bag quickly.

“Oh my gosh,” Hange says as she nudges him on the shoulder. “You also got me onion rings! You know me too well, Levi.”

“Unfortunately,” Levi responds sarcastically, and Hange laughs almost automatically.

As Hange hums in glee, picking apart the paper wrapped around the food items, Levi maintains his silence. They stay like that as Hange eats. Every so often, she would comment about how the amount of cheese was perfect and how the onion rings just about melted in her mouth. Levi alternates between watching her eat and scrolls through his phone placidly.

Soon, he chooses to break the silence. “So where’s your draft?”

Hange is munching on her last piece of quesadilla when she glances in his direction. “Oh, it’s on my laptop! I can’t believe I forgot to tell you, this food was just so good.”

Levi stands up and heads on over to Hange’s room, gently pushing the door open and scanning the area for her laptop. On top of her unmade bed was a half open Macbook Pro, which he gently took before returning to his seat beside Hange.

Without hesitation, Levi opens the laptop and inputs the password. For some reason, Hange made it his birthday—1225—because she claimed that no one would guess such a random date. He is greeted with a blaring Google Docs document entitled “a;lskfjdk.”

“Nice title you got there,” he comments, and Hange chuckles.

“I didn’t want to think of a title yet, okay!” Hange pouts, and Levi nudges her foot gently in an attempt to comfort her from his own teasing.

He scans the document first before reading it. Hange is a good writer, but fiction is an entirely new genre for her. Immediately, he notices common habits from writing research papers leak into her new work: overexplaining, using words that are too formal for her target audience, sentences a little bit void from emotion.

He takes note of these comments on her notes app before going over her draft again, this time more meticulously than he had done previously. During this time, Hange finishes eating, wraps her trash and tosses them all inside the paper bag before standing up and dumping the entire thing inside her garbage bin.

“Levi,” she calls as she washes her hands through the sink faucet. Levi gives her the smallest hint that he’s listening by raising his eyebrow, but he doesn’t take his gaze away from her laptop. “I’m going to take a shower,” she announces, and he waves his hand dismissively.

Hange smiles to herself. Levi is always nagging her whenever she would accidentally hyperfixate on her writing, but he acts the same way when reading her works.

When Hange stepped inside the shower, Levi was already conducting a deep dive in her third chapter. The gears in his head slowly begin to turn as he begins to analyze her work.

The story revolved around the tales of the people who went to the clinic. The first chapter was a brief introduction on who the main characters were: There’s Janelle, a bright-eyed psychologist whose passion influenced the people around her. Together with El and Bea, her trusted assistants studying under her guidance, they would aid the people who went to the Hopiatria Clinic seeking care.

Meanwhile, the second chapter featured a child who felt as if she was being blamed for the death of her mother by her father. Her mother had died in a plane crash shortly after the young girl wished that her mom could go home on her sixth birthday. Janelle talks to the child gently while El and Bea provide emotional support, offering the child toys and biscuits whenever the need arises.

The third chapter was trickier, and it was there that Levi noticed a twist in Hange’s writing. The story revolved around a boy busy getting her doctorate, and a young girl who had been in love with him ever since they were in college. It’s the young girl who comes to Janelle’s office, and she relays the tale of her unrequited childhood romance to the psychologist.

The young girl is passionate, and wanted to take a step forward in order to guide her towards falling out of love with her best friend. Janelle presents two suggestions: (1) confession, while being fully-open to the possibility of rejection, and (2) accepting rejection without confession. The young girl decides to go with the first option, but to her surprise, the boy returns her feelings.

Everything seemed well-written up until the end of the chapter, where Hange had written,

And then they kissed.

Levi scrolled down the page, tilting his head to the side in slight confusion. That’s it? He thought, trying to find the rest.

Everything had been so well-described; from the girl’s internal turmoil—caused by her fear of destroying their friendship and the pain that came with unrequited love—to the boy confessing his own emotions for her.

The ending was anticlimactic, to say the least.

As he blinked at the google document in confusion, already typing out his comment on her notes app, Hange emerged from the bathroom. Her hair was loose on her shoulders, wet from her shower. Wrapped around her waist is his bathrobe, which she had borrowed from him long ago and never bothered to return it.

Levi scoffs as he glances in her direction. Here she was, parading with the cloth on and rubbing that specific fact in his face.

“Hey,” Hange greeted, smiling as she ran a hand through her brown locks, “How’s the reading going?”

“It was okay until the third chapter,” Levi says honestly, pointing the laptop screen in her direction. “The ending’s anticlimactic.”

Hange hummed, pursing her lips together. “Yeah. I didn’t really know how to end it,” she tells him as she opens her cabinet and grabs a few pieces of clothing. “Give me a bit, I’m going to change.”

She disappears into her room and Levi focuses on her story, trying to think of a way to spur Hange on and perhaps actively improve the ending’s writing.

Hange emerges in a loose t-shirt (which was, once again, his) and shorts. She sits down right beside him, leaning over his shoulder to glance at her laptop and read the specific line that particularly irked Levi.

“It’s that one, right?” Hange asks, pointing at the last sentence. “And then they kissed.”

“Yeah,” Levi responds, shaking his head. “Everything was so well-written up ‘till that point. You were able to describe the emotions perfectly, and the narration’s not that bad . . save for a few paragraphs that maybe should’ve stayed in your research papers.”

Hange chuckles. “Old habits die hard,” she responds, before taking her Macbook from his lap and transferring it to hers. “So what should I write?”

Levi shrugs. “I’m just your editor. You’re the writer.”

Hange pouts. “Yeah, but I don’t know how to make this better.”

“Maybe describe the scene more,” Levi suggests. “Everything ended so abruptly. Every emotion you’ve created and built disappeared in that one line.”

She nods in agreement. “But Levi,” Hange whines as she slumps her head on the back of her sofa and closes her eyes. “Kissing scenes are so tricky to write.”

Perhaps it’s the fact that it’s almost 5:30 in the morning. It could also be because he's tired from lack of sleep. Whatever the case, Levi Ackerman’s filter completely disappears when he asks, “Do you need a demonstration?”

Hange’s eyes shoot open immediately, and Levi’s face turns red just as quickly.

“F-Forget it,” he says, interrupting her just when he saw Hange open her mouth to speak. Any semblance of calm in his body disappears immediately, and his heart starts pounding against his chest in a rhythm that reminds him too much of a beating drum.

Hange, however, looks elated.

“You want to kiss me?” she tells him in excitement, blinking at him. “I’d like that. It could help me write this scene, you know.”

Levi looks away. “It was just a spur of the moment question.”

“So, you’re not going to kiss me?”

He actively avoids her gaze because he can already see from his peripheral vision that she looks sad, disappointed even. He grunts in response, closing his eyes and focusing his attention on a random spot on the wall.

“Oh,” Hange replies, “Well, I thought it was a good idea.”

Contrary to popular belief, Levi does want to kiss Hange. More than anything.

There were many reasons why: Because she looks so handsome and beautiful at the same time, and her very smile could light up any room she’d walk into. Because she says his name in the most endearing way. Because she understands his flaws. Because she has one of the kindest hearts he’s ever seen. Because she welcomes him with open arms, not a single thread of hesitation in her mind.

Most of all, it was simply because she was Hange.

He steals a glance in her direction, and she’s slightly fiddling with the hem of his shirt, her head downcast. Her sad expression tugs at hi

Levi thinks he’s already in this too deep, so he decides to speak.

“Did you want me to kiss you?”

From his periphery, he sees her look up at him so quickly he thought her neck would break. “What would you do if I said yes?”

He doesn’t dare turn his head in her direction when he replies quietly, “What do you think?”

“Would you kiss me?” Hange asks inquisitively, tilting her head to the side.

Levi’s heart skips a beat.

“Maybe,” he says in a voice barely above a whisper. “If you’d let me.”

Hange is silent for a moment, and Levi thinks this is it, I’m going to be rejected, but he feels a gentle finger touch his chin and turn his head in Hange’s direction.

He is met with her brown orbs, shining just a bit in what seemed like hidden glee. He cocks an eyebrow at her then, confused.

“I’m letting you,” Hange says, laughing. “Kiss me, I mean.” Her face is already slowly nearing his, and he can almost see the way her thick lashes brushed against her skin.

Slowly, Levi raises his head just a tiny bit and responds against her lips, “Okay.”

Hange smiles and closes the distance between them, wrapping her arms around his neck as he does the same around her waist. She tastes like the peppermint of her toothpaste, smells like his shampoo (which he had kept in her apartment since he always found himself staying over), and felt warm as her skin made contact with his. Hange's lips are gentle, slow, and a little shy—so different from how she usually is. Levi knows it’s because she doesn’t want to scare him off, so he makes the first move and nips at her lower lip, taking it between his teeth and sucking it gently.

She lets out a moan, and Levi takes this as a sign to continue. He slides his hand over her back, and she shudders and deepens the kiss at the same time. Her tongue meets his, and they battle for dominance. Hange’s hand sweeps over his undercut and pushes him towards him, and it is then that he lets out a sound that vaguely resembles pleasure.

After a few minutes, Hange whispers “Levi,” as her lips make contact with his. He hums in response, pulling his lips away from her and connecting his forehead with hers.

“Hange,” he says, breathless.

“Is this you telling me you like me?” Hange asks, closing her eyes.

He doesn’t form a reply through words, but he nods and closes his eyes as well.

“Great,” Hange tells him, pecking his lips with her own. “Because I like you too. Ever since I met you, I’ve liked you. Even though you were so rude to me on the first day of college.”

He chuckles silently in relief, pulling her closer to him before placing his chin on her shoulder. “Think you’ll be able to write the ending now that you know what a kiss feels like?”

Hange laughs, and it vibrates against his shoulder as she hugs him tighter. “It’s exhilarating. I probably wouldn’t be able to put into words how good I feel that you like me back.”

“Try,” Levi teases.

“Well . . . you know that alternative title I wrote for the fictional novel?”

Levi’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “The keyboard smash?”

Hange nods. “Yeah. That’s exactly what I feel like right now.”

a;lskfjdk.

[mrs-han]

Day One of Five

Woop! I forgot to post this! This is my piece for the @mysticcuisine zine!

“Hello!”

“Darling, are you rea -”

“Is what I would say if I were available! Please leave a message!”

“I told her to change her voicemail,” Jumin huffed, tightening the apron strings around his waist.

Day one of five… he could do this. His wife had vehemently ushered him from their shared apartment one thousand, six hundred and twenty-eight miles away, stressing his two-week hiatus from work. If it weren’t for her, he would have missed more.

While she was right, it killed the heir to be apart from her. Returning to the silence of the penthouse reminded him of a time without her.

Beep beep!

Jumin dove for his tablet haphazardly, skewing his standard pancake set-up. “Honey?”

“Good morning, Jumin!” His wife chirped.

He smiled goofily and lightly touched her cheek via the FaceTime app, an unmistakable bright blush on his cheeks. 

“Good morning,” he hummed affectionately. “Did you sleep well?”

“I miss you,” she answered meekly. “It’s only the first day, and I miss you so much… but we did the right thing. We did the right thing… right?”

His eyes widened. Heat traveled to his ears as memories of lying beside her rushed back to him. He closed his eyes and shook his head. “You… know that’s an unfair question. But I miss you too, my love… more than you can comprehend.”

She leaned in and lightly pecked the camera. “The bias is strong with this one,” she teased.

“Can you blame me?” Jumin pouted.

“Oh, come on!” She playfully tapped her screen. “Today is day one of five. The days will fly by.”

“Days without touching you, kissing you, smelling you? How ghastly.”

“You can’t do this to me so early in the morning. You’re gonna have me say something like, ‘Come back to me, husband.’”

“I’ll ready the private jet -”

“Jumin, no!”

“Fine.” Jumin kissed his fingers, nearly ended the call by pressing them to his wife’s image and secured his tablet on a mounted stand over the cabinet. “Where are your ingredients?”

“Right here!” She lowered her camera to display a wide arrangement of corn tortillas, tomatillos, tomatoes, serrano chiles, eggs, garlic, onion, and oil ready for use.

“... Those aren’t the ingredients used for pancakes,” Jumin mumbled.

“We should make something different! Remember in Mexico, we regularly ate chilaquiles -”

“Ah, ah. You regularly ate chilaquiles. You had me finish what you couldn’t eat.”

“So we regularly ate them!”

“Mmhm.” Jumin moved to his pantry. “That sounds adventurous… but I don’t have the ingredients to -”

“Check your bag!”

Jumin dug through his travel bag and lifted a pack carrying garlic and onion. “When did you… ?”

“I stopped time while you made travel arrangements,” she joked.

“... Teach me.”

“No way! Everything should be at the bottom, minus the eggs. Grab your tomatillos. We’re gonna boil them along with the chiles until they’re soft!”

“Yes, dear.” Jumin grabbed a medium-sized pot and threw the ingredients in a while, still digging through his bag.

“Now, grab your tortillas and cut them into fourths, like this.” She tilted her camera down for him to observe. “Then fry them for a couple of minutes. Are your chiles and tomatillos already boiling?”

“Darling, slow down -”

“Mine are! Once yours are done, throw them into the blender. Add the onion, tomato, and garlic before you blend.” She started the blender suddenly. “MAKE SURE YOUR TORTILLAS ARE GOLDEN BROWN AND SET THEM ASIDE!”

“What?!” Jumin leaned in. 

“WHAT?!” She echoed.

“Hold on!” Jumin chopped frantically, relieved once the noise ceased on her end. “Dear, wait.”

“Oh… sorry, I got excited...”

“Just a tad,” Jumin chuckled. “Let me catch up.”

~~~

“How’s it going, honey?” 

“Almost done,” Jumin replied, carefully sprinkling cilantro and salt over his plate. 

She stifled a giggle. “You look like Salt Bae.”

“The internet phenomenon is known for sprinkling salt like…” He dipped forward, raised his right hand, and puckered his lips. “... this?”

“A shame your lips are so far away.”

Jumin’s eyes softened. “Your dish looks delicious.”

“I wish we could swap,” she gushed. “I love your cooking… and I can’t wait to have more of it when you come back.”

“As soon as I get home, I’ll cook you anything you desire.”

“Without burning the kitchen down?”

“No promises.” 

She burst into a fit of laughter while he gazed at her adoringly.

“I love you,” he purred.

“I love you too,” she whimpered. “Let’s eat before I get overly sentimental.”

“It’s a bit late for that, lady.”

“Oh, hush!”

[yuriyuruandyuraart]

i almost forgot about the DTIYS-

now’s the time to announce the winners! 

okay but choosing was extremely hard- i was so conflicted between so many amazing pieces, there are only FOUR people who won but i had 9 participants-

but the remaining might have a little something as well ;)

1st place: @fio-violet ((a body drawing, complex shading+ effects (lightning)) 2nd place: @amemi-i ((half a body drawing, flat shading)) 3rd place: @digitalvoidheart ((bust of a character, simple shading)) 4th place: @amarald​ ((icon, 400 x 400 pixels, shading type can be chosen))

there were SO many pretty other art too, so i’m gonna thank everyone who did enter as well because their pieces were just as pretty and i’m sorry about that, but-

to really show how grateful i still am, free doodling requests for @bluepalleteuniverse​ @dragon-tamer-1​ @shashishin​ @laf-e-taffy​ and @bengallemon​!

the due date for your prizes can only take 3 days, unless you message me to reschedule in case you don’t know what you want <3

edit: woops, forgot to add this x)

thank u again for participating and i can’t be grateful enough to the now 188 followers!

have an amazing day and don’t forget to take care ♥

[catonamatchbox]

i love Hazel so much i almost cried when she sang the lullaby

and shes also turtle! How cute can she get??!! amazing

i forgot to add the shadow layer its fixed now woops

[mon-dayragingslut4monstaxday6]

Breathless

Oh goodness my first angst (still not enough angst because I'm a fluff girl). Reading angst hurts my heart, but writing this was kinda fun (thankfully it didn’t change my view on Young K/Brian). I’m sorry for the late submission to this request, I’m trying to do better.  🥺

Keep requesting/asking! Also like, reblog, follow 💕

Warnings: ANGST, smut, swearing, oral, mentions of sex, mentions of cheating (woops), some fluff?

Word count: about 2k

Just one more night. That’s what I keep telling myself. One more night and I’ll end it with Brian...whatever we have. Why did I let myself fall so easily? My momma taught me better than to fall back into the arms of the man who broke my heart. He broke it once, he’ll just do it again, but the sex is too good to pass up. That’s all this is, it’s just sex.

A knock on my door startles me. I adjust my garter belt that fits snug on my thigh, hidden by my silk robe.

I open the door to the suave, irrisistable, sex demon. Fuck, he’s wearing his leather jacket. His hair is perfectly brushed back, he definitely showered before coming over. That’s a first. He brought a bottle of wine? What’s the special occasion? He also has a little black box with no label. The whole ensemble is giving me assumptions. Assumptions that make me want to vomit.

“Brian”, I greet, avoiding looking at the box and wine.

“Hi, baby”, he greets with an especially low, soft voice. I welcome him in.

“For you”, he gifts me the wine.

“What’s the occasion?”, I wonder, heading to the kitchen for some glasses.

“Have you looked at the calendar?”, he chuckles. Don’t fucking tell me. Is this our anniversary for when we were dating?

“Our anniversary?”, I furrow my brows. I pop the bottle and pour about halfway of the glass. Rosé, my favorite.

“I know it’s been a while since we broke up”, Brian shrugs, accepting a glass.

“A year”, I internally scowl. I take a long drink of my wine. 

“Do you ever wish we got back together?”, he mumbles. Thank goodness I swallowed before he said that, or else I’ll be choking.

“Did you forget what happened, Brian? Or do you need a refresher?”, my skin crawls, my face showing my internal scowl. He has a thing for seeing me mad. He loves the fiery passion in my eyes. There would be a game to see how angry I could get before I would pounce him and fuck the angry out of me. I could tell tonight is going to be one of those nights.

“Enlighten me”, he encourages, taking a long sip, staring deep into my eyes. The little box sits beside me. The curiosity of that box is killing me. It could be anything.

“You love attention. Any attention. You thrive on validation, either as an artist or a person. You’re a slave to vanity. Someone calls you pretty and you want more, refusing to stop till you’re satisfied”, I slowly elaborate, keeping my composure. He finishes his wine and puts the glass on the countertop behind me. He stands in front of me, hands on the countertop, trapping me with his body. Does he think this will intimidate me? That's bold of him.

“I won’t stop till I’m satisfied?”, he purses his lip.

“Any woman who gives you the slightest bit of interest, you make it your goal to have them submit to you. Your sick game of wanting women to fall at your feet”, I continue. I finish my wine, Brian puts the glass behind me.

“You fell at my feet”, he smirks.

“Pathetic of me”, I snarl.

“You seemed to enjoy it for years”, he bites his lip. His cock is getting harder by the minute. I grab his bulge and stroke the length over his jeans. He bows his head, taking a deep breath.

“So did that whore”, I whisper in his ear.

“Tell me about her”, he breaths. I play with his tip.

“The escort you’ve been paying to fuck since we started dating? You didn’t think I would find out about your toy. I was in denial for years, but you wanted me to know. You wanted me to know how replaceable I am”, I get choked up. I’ve been taking therapy since the breakup to cope. This shit really fucked me up and saying it out loud doesn’t make it better. I’m not getting angry, I’m getting flushed.

“I told you I would leave her”, Brian whispers. I squeeze on his length.

“You thought I would believe you, but I knew better. You wanted power”, I sniffle.

“It was wrong of me to want both”, he moans.

“Yes it was!”, I yell, yanking my hand back from his crotch. He puts his hand behind my head and rubs his thumb with the grain of my hair.

“Have regrets now, Brian?”, I sniffle. He pulls me into a kiss. This doesn’t feel like the sexual tension type of kiss from the past year, this feels like the romantic first kiss from when we started dating. No matter how much I want to have this kiss, I have to stop. I push him away.

“No! You can’t just kiss me and expect me to shut up about you fucking me up!”, I shout.

“I know I can’t make it up to you”, Brian sighs.

“That’s right, you can’t”, I cross my arms, breaking eye contact with him.

“Do you want me to leave?”, his voice softens. He realizes he broke me. I’m not playing anymore.

“After tonight, I don’t want to see you again”, I bite the bullet.

“Do you want me to leave now?”, he turns mousy. I should say yes.

“No”, I mumble.

“Can I kiss you?”, he whispers. I appreciate the asking for consent. He was always good at that when we were dating. I nod. His fingers comb my hair, to soothe me.

“I’m sorry. About everything”, Brian apologizes.

“Enlighten me”, I quote him.

“I should have stopped seeing her when we started dating and I should have told you about it anyway. You’re the only girl for me”, he spills his heart.

“Don’t say shit you don’t mean, Brian”, I glare at him. A hand slips to the small of my back, pulling me to him.

“You’re an incredible woman. I don’t deserve you”, he continues.

“That’s right, you don’t”, I subtly smile.

“Being with you was the best part of my life”, he whispers in my ear.

“I won’t stop loving you”, he adds. Don’t. Don’t say that.

“You still love me?”, I close my eyes to embrace the little breaths on my ear.

“I never stopped, I couldn’t”, confesses.

“Fuck you, Brian”, I whimper before meeting his lips. A tear falls down my cheek. How does he know exactly what to say? No, no, no! This is exactly what he wants! I said it’s over and he’ll do anything to keep this going. Brian takes my hand and leads us to my bedroom. He notices my tears and stops us from going further.

“Baby”, he whispers, wiping the tears away.

“You really fucked me up, Brian”, my voice cracks.

“I know”, he breaths, untying the belt of my robe.

“Why did you keep her after all these years?”, I continue.

“You said it yourself, I won’t stop till I’m satisfied”, he admits. He slips the robe off my shoulders, letting it fall. Brian hisses from the sight of me in my new bra and pantie set with the garter belt.

“Was I not enough for you? Did I not make you happy?”, I sniffle. He halts.

“Don’t say that about yourself. I’m the problem, I got greedy”, his voice changes from soothing to stern.

“Will you always be greedy?”, I raise my voice.

“No!  After the breakup, I ended it with her. I haven’t seen her since and I don’t plan on ever calling her again”, he matches the volume. Really? He ended things with her? Is he just saying that?

“You better not be fucking lying to me”, I run my fingers through his hair.

“I wanted to become a better person”, he swallows his pride.

“Prove to me how much of a better person you became”, I flutter my eyelashes. He unhooks my bra and let it fall on top of the robe. His fingers outline my silhouette: my arms, shoulders, breasts, waist, hips. How could the most delicate touch feel so intense? How could he get me from disgruntled to needy in the matter of seconds with his fingertips?

“Brian”, I breathlessly moan, feeling needy for more. He strips naked and plays with the material of my panties. His cock never looked more beautiful.

“On the bed, face up”, he whispers a command. I lay on my bed, teasing him by sweetly keeping my legs closed, acting prudish was one of our favorites because he knows just how dirty I could get. Sitting between my legs, he lifts my leg with the garter belt and kisses a trail from my ankle to the delicate strap of lace. His teeth tugs the lace off. This is a different Brian. He hasn't taken his time like this since the breakup. Usually at arrangements like this, he would come in, fuck me for an hour or two then leave. We would've  been done with round one by now. He runs his hands along my outer thigh, feeling the silky skin he can't get enough of.

"Please", I beg for more. The call of my neediness ignites a fire in his eyes.

"Yes? Talk to me", he teases, massaging my inner thigh.

"Just fuck me, Brian", I groan from frustration.

"I told you I wanted to become a better person. You deserve more than just a fuck, you deserve to feel good", he scoffs, slipping  the panties off me, tossing it to the pile on the floor.

"What are you going to do to me?", I get anxious.

"Don't worry about it, baby. Just relax and let me do my thing", he smoothly hushes me. He pushes my legs apart, giving me a deliciously good stretch. He hisses through his teeth at the sight of my glistening pussy that calls for him. Without hesitation he bends over to lick stripes along my slit, still holding my legs. He syncs his tongue with his hands, giving muscle relaxing massages to my inner thigh as he swirls between folds. I'm already breathless. I don't know what to grab. Do I grab his hair, my blankets? He looks so beautiful, I almost forgot how long it's been since he went down on me. I brush his hair back that was almost covering his eyes. He looks up at me, giving me a sexy little wink. He hooks his arms around my thighs to keep them open as he goes deeper, my hand not leaving his hair. I arch my back when his nose tickles my clit, a mousy whimper trapped in my throat. He laughs at the feeling of me coming undone. My pussy pulsates under his lips, making the warm knot in my stomach turn. I need a distraction, I can't cum this soon.

"What's in the black box you brought?", I moan, hoping he could stop to show me so my knot can loosen up.

"My apartment key", he reveals, lips not leaving my quivering pussy. His apartment key? He doesn't even have a key to my place! Wait...he did have an ulterior motive coming here.

"And a surprise for later", he chuckles, tongue teasing my entrance. My grip on his hair tightens. The surprise could be anything. I don't remember talking to him about getting toys, or at least not recently. Could it be something he wants me to try on? We already have a drawer full of toys, so what could this be?

[lustresky]

kahit ‘di mo alam [james ‘bucky’ barnes x f!filipina!reader]

summary: After an emotionally taxing mission, you and Bucky share some stories— and maybe also some leche flan along the way.

wc: 5200ish. (might have went to town on this one.. haha woops)

themes: angst (i need to chill tf out i’m sorry:’’/), some fluff ig, happy but kind of ambiguous ending (mayhaps a sequel....), mention of ptsd/trauma, hydra being shitty, bucky trying his best to comfort reader (this is my first time writing him so sorry if he’s kinda ooc..), filipina!reader, also kinda cliché idk

a/n: psa, i do not know how to bake. all i am is your typical filipina girl who has a soft spot for bucky and also thinks that there needs to be more poc centered readers. that is all<3 thanks to @ panlasang pinoy for da leche flan recipe lmao. also! title is a song by december avenue, which i think fits this story. check it out if you want!:]

requests are open! & pls don’t forget to like and reblog, thank you! c:

You hum quietly to yourself, beating the yolks with a silver balloon whisk that Tony had.

Out of all the things that you would never have thought Tony would own when you first joined the team, a full on expensive ass baking set was on the top of the list. Hell, you don’t even think that he’s ever opened the oven door before; but then again, the guy’s loaded, so maybe it wasn’t really a smart idea to wonder what he did or did not own.

Whatever— you thought to yourself. Pondering about what the billionaire did with his money wasn’t really what you should be focusing on right now, anyways.

You continue with the repetitive motion of your hand, stopping once the eggs were smooth. Gradually, you add the condensed milk, followed by the regular milk and then finally, a few teaspoons of vanilla extract. You mix the concoction once more, your bottom lip caught in between your teeth as you focus on the task at hand.

You didn’t hear the gradual shuffling of feet into the kitchen, nor the opening and closing of the refrigerator door; and so you were startled out of your concentration when Bucky Barnes himself ended up in front of you, a bowl of oatmeal in his hands as he positions himself properly on the island chair.

He doesn’t greet you— and honestly, you weren’t expecting him to anyways. You two were never really close; acquaintances at best, with how high both of your walls were built.

You really only knew Bucky from what Steve had shared. You knew that he was part of the Howling Commandos, that he’s Steve’s life long best friend, that HYDRA had brainwashed him and used him against his own will...

Even just thinking about that acronym still makes bile rise up in your throat.

HYDRA had also imprisoned you, beat you, used your body for their own gain. Your stories were similar. Two unwilling and unlucky humans— taken against their own volition, experimented on like a pack of mouse labs, memory and history wiped out to store target information…

You take a breath, trying to steady yourself.

Baking had been the only thing that you remembered from your past. As much as HYDRA tried to erase your history, the memory of your lola’s kitchen came back time and time again, relentless and the only sense of soundness that you found yourself with. The cartons of eggs, the measuring cups, the light dusting of flour all over the table, the rays of the hot afternoon sun peeking through the curtains, the smell of the freshly baked pandesal wafting through the air…

It was comforting, sometimes it was the sole thing that made you calm down. The only pleasant memory that you had left of the simple life that you barely remembered, but greatly missed and longed for.

Hence, before you knew it, you were in the spacious kitchen of the compound; making leche flan to calm your nerves and trying your best to forget what had just happened a few hours ago.

The mission had ended with the team’s victory, sure, but you don’t think that you’ll ever forget the image that had seared itself in your mind. You desperately wanted to forget the sight of Bucky, vulnerable as he lay on the ground with his metal arm torn off of his body, right before an enhanced individual gave him a powerful blow square on his abdomen.

Blood had spluttered out of his mouth, red, bright, coating the brick walls that you were both enclosed in. The mission should’ve been simple: break in, grab the information needed, and then bring said information back. There should’ve only been a few guards. It should’ve been a quick mission— but the sight of Bucky being plummeted with no remorse brought you back memories. Memories that you had tried so desperately to forget.

You bite your bottom lip harder, unintentionally gripping the bowl and whisk in your hands tighter as your arm mixes faster— faster and faster until you suddenly find yourself with a splatter of batter on your cheek.

You groan. Nice one, Y/N, you thought.

You hear a small snicker in front of you and you look up, embarrassed and annoyed. Bucky just stared back at you, a hint of a smirk on his face.

Taking a quick but good look at him, you notice that he had cleaned himself up. His hair was still damp from a shower. It was wavy, pulled back into a small ponytail behind his neck. His face was clear of soot and blood, and he no longer wore his combat outfit.

You can’t help but flicker your eyes over to his left arm, familiarity getting the best of you. You know that you should be rational, but you still feel your shoulders sink as your gaze missed the glint of metal that you were accustomed to.

Bucky senses your wandering eyes. He shakes his head, head dipping back into his bowl of oatmeal. “It isn’t your fault.” He mutters, voice raspy.

You huff, setting down the metal bowl on the marble counter with a bit too much force. You take off your apron and with it, you hastily wipe the splashed part of your face clean; or at least, as clean as you can without a mirror.

“No,” You argue, feeling your throat tighten as the memory and your emotions flashed through your mind once again. You ball up the now dirty apron, throwing it onto the counter. “It is.”

When you had seen him lying on the floor, taking hits every single second, you were unable to move. You had felt helpless, weak... cowardly. It was dumb. You were an Avenger, for Christ's sake. Your life was plenty of danger— seeing people getting hurt had never shook you so hard to the core before. Hell, you survived HYDRA.

Yet the memories were enough to make you freeze up.

Thankfully, Steve had showed up right before the enemy had landed his final blow. If it wasn’t for him, you highly doubted that Bucky would’ve been sitting in front of you right now, casually eating his oatmeal as if he didn’t almost just die a few hours ago.

When Bucky tilted his head up to look at you, ready to retaliate, you stood your ground and stared right back at his light blue eyes. Neither of you said a word.

You were angry. Mad. Furious. At Bucky? Maybe. Him dismissing the fact that you almost let him die and treating your mistake lightly was a thing in its own, but fuck. You were mad at yourself.

You feel incompetent. Useless. You almost let a teammate die, even if physically, you were completely capable of saving them. You drop your head down, unable to continue looking at someone whose life was in your hands just a few moments ago. A life that you were fully capable of protecting, but couldn’t, just because of some stupid fucking memories coming back to haunt you.

Before you know it, a hot tear ran down your cheek— and you hurriedly wiped it away with your arm. Now isn’t time, you hiss at yourself. Baring vulnerability in the middle of the kitchen? Ha. you thought to yourself.

Pathetic.

You grip the edge of the marble tiles, steadying yourself and trying to control your breathing. In and out. In and out. One, two. One, two. It was shaky at first, but after a few seconds of repeating the exercise, you managed to get a loose grip on it. Just enough of a hold to straighten your posture and set aside your mixture, before bolting away from the kitchen and into your bedroom a few doors down the hall.

Once inside, your resolve crumbles. You didn’t even have time to lay on your bed, your legs just giving up and leaving your body down on the carpet. Fresh hot tears ran down like rivers on your face, your nose stuffed, your eyes blurred. Your lungs heaved, just trying its best to give you enough oxygen, but you’re sniffling, your throat’s dry, and your mind’s weary and everything just feels like absolute shit.

You don’t remember how long you had sat there, your legs against your chest, head in your knees and hands on the back of your head as the rest of the water in your body leaves in tears.

You hate feeling like this. Emotional, vulnerable, sensitive… You aren’t supposed to be like this. You have a job. You can’t let your own personal problems get in the way of accomplishing what needed to be done. There isn’t any backing out in what you’re doing. There isn’t a delete nor reverse button. If you fuck up, you fuck up, and that’s that.

Your bedroom door suddenly opens, the unexpected sound making you flinch. Fuck, you forgot to lock it.

Still, you hold your head down against your knees. You don’t want to see anyone right now, you don’t even think that you have any energy left to make a proper conversation. Your throat’s dry, your nose is stuffed, your eyes are sore. You absolutely feel like shit.

The intruder continued their pace, before stopping in front of you. You hear a shuffling of legs, and something being set on your nightstand, until you feel a warm hand lay itself on the side of your left leg. They gave you a couple of soft pats.

From your position, you can’t really see who they are; you had a gut feeling that it was Wanda— but then again it can also be Nat. Or maybe even Steve.

Whoever it was, you know that they’re just trying their best to help, and you appreciate their concern, truly, but you just don’t think you’re capable of talking about something so close to your heart with someone else.

At least, not right now.

Except, you also know that they wouldn’t leave without any verbal cue, and so you force a smile, a truly fake and horrible one as you lift your head up to try and convince whoever it was who decided to check up on you that you’re fine, thanks, and that you just need some space— but as soon as your eyes focused on the person in front of you, your act drops, as the one who you expected the least stared back.

Before you can even ask him to leave, he beats you to it. “Here,” He says, getting up on his knees and retrieving the bottle of water that he had placed on your night stand. “Drink this.”

Wordlessly, you comply. The quench of the water on your tongue clearing your head, hydrating your body back.

Eyes glued to the carpet, unwilling to look anywhere else, you pass him back the glass. Bucky takes it and places it back to where he had originally put it.

He clears his throat. “Listen, Y/N… I— I know that we aren’t really… we aren’t really on the best of terms but— if you want to talk about it, I’m all open ears— but if you want me to leave and forget about this, I’ll head straight out the door.”

“I just—“ Bucky continues, and although your eyes were still fixating on the tufts of wool of your carpet, from the corner of your eye you could still see him shuffle awkwardly on his kneeling position. “I just want you to know that I’m here for you. We all are.”

You… didn’t really know what to say.

Here Bucky was, a soldier, another person who had undergone through HYDRA’s torment, someone whose walls have since been taller then, a teammate who you respected but aren’t close to— hell, barely even really friends with; offering you comfort, a place to vent, a shoulder to let your head rest.

As much as you barely knew him, you feel a pull in you to let him stay.

Bucky, however, takes your silence as refusal. Your eyes catch his legs unfolding from their position, straightening out as he stands up. He doesn’t say anything else as he turns towards the door.

“No, wait—“ You croak, cringing mentally at your voice. Looks like the water didn’t do as well of a job as you thought did. Letting out a much needed sigh, you finally let your gaze strike his, and once it made contact, you saw him. Clearly.

His eyes are cloudy, concern evident in his features. His dark brows are furrowed, lips set in a straight line.

You muster up some courage, and whisper, “Stay.”

Bucky’s expression flickers for a moment, concern turning into total surprise for just a millisecond, and if you had more energy you would have maybe laughed— but you didn’t. Instead, you cast your eyes back to the floor as you hear him shuffle back to you.

He sits to your left, legs crossed, arm on his lap. He doesn’t say anything for a while, the sound of your breathing and his being the only sounds filling your bedroom for a few minutes.

It wasn’t exactly a comfortable silence, some awkwardness from you both definitely seeping through... but nevertheless, your eyes start to get heavy.

Bucky, somehow sensing your current situation, clears his throat— effectively gaining your attention. Your head snaps up to meet his eyes.

“If you want… you can, you know…” He gestures to his right shoulder with his hand. He doesn’t continue his sentence, knowing that you had caught on to his proposition.

Too tired and sleepy to say no, you let out a breath and say fuck it.

You shuffle closer to his body, and as you lean your head down, a wave of fatigue washes over you. You hear Bucky inhale a breath as you finally drop, the left side of your face colliding with his shoulder.

As much as your body was pleading for you to simply close your eyes and just… rest— it still feels too awkward to do so. The silence is deafening, and as much as you appreciate Bucky lowering down his walls just a bit, you can’t help but let the next words tumble out of your mouth;

“What was it like in the ‘40s?”

You feel him stiffen beside you, and for a moment you worry that you had asked for more than you can chew, but within the next second Bucky lets out a small chuckle. He shakes his head slightly, a few strands of his freshly washed hair subsequently grazing over your face. It tickled.

“It was…” He starts, seemingly finding the proper words to say. “It was definitely a different time.” He concludes, sounding nostalgic and full of wistfulness.

His voice: deep and gravelly, began to lull you to sleep. You’ve never heard him quite like this before, often, his words were quick and precise and straight to the point. Never full of sentiment, never so… warm.

You want to hear more. So you hum in response, wanting to know more about his old life, urging him to go on— and go on he did.

He talked about the memories that Shuri had helped him remember from his time in Wakanda. His secret rendezvous, his childhood with Steve, their adventures and misadventures. He went on, his own memories making place in your own mind and pushing aside the ones that had you freezing up before. The ones that had broken you down are now being replaced by silly anecdotes, wistful memories and nonsensical stories.

Without even noticing it, you find yourself asleep on his shoulder, a small smile on your face as Bucky recounts another thought from the past.

You don’t know how long you had fallen asleep, but the crank in your neck was enough to tell you that it might have just been a bit too long. Your bottom aches, sore from the not so cozy flooring, and your back definitely needs to be stretched. Your body hurts, but at least your chest feels lighter.

You lift your head up from Bucky’s shoulder, feeling him flinch from your sudden movement. His head pulls back from its resting place on your wall. He looks back at you, confused.

He meets your eyes, and it seems that he had just woken up as well… had he fallen asleep too?

Bucky just continues gazing into your eyes, and you can’t help but just… stare back. Thankful for his comfort.

“I…” You whisper, about to thank him, until you remember the dessert that you had just hastily cast aside before bolting to your bedroom. “The leche flan!” You cry out, worried— fuck, if you leave it out for too long it could spoil!

Bucky, however, became even more confused at your outburst. You calm yourself down for a moment, letting out a sigh.

“My— uh, my dessert.” You explain, embarrassed. “It could spoil if I leave it out too long— I need to… I need to get back to it.”

Bucky’s eyes widen, thankfully understanding your dilemma, giving you a nod. So you lift your body up, stretching it just a bit, your bones popping themselves back into place.

You’re almost out of your door when you hear footsteps from behind and to no surprise you see Bucky, hair disheveled and lounge clothes wrinkled. You fight an urge to giggle. The all powerful soldier, looking all messy and drowsy... It’s definitely a sight to behold, maybe even a precious one at that.

He runs his hands through his hair, loosening his ponytail and settling his hair tie around his wrist with one hand. You try to ignore the way his fingers easily managed to do that. “If… I mean if you need a hand… I can— help?” He suggests, voice dropping to an unsure whisper by the end of his sentence.

You feel your mouth pull into a small smile, and this time, you let it do so. “Sure.”

So to the kitchen both of you went, a comfortable silence and understanding settling between you two. You quickly spot your metal mixing bowl from before, alone on the island counter. A relieved sigh falls from your lips as you peek an eye into the container to see the mixture untouched.

“So…” You start, grabbing the apron that you had thrown onto the counter in a fury. You don’t bother with getting a new one— it’s only slightly dirty, anyway. You put it on, tying it around your waist and patting it down slightly in less than a second. “Let’s get you an apron, shall we?”

You open the cabinet in which you keep the aprons and pick one up at random, giving it to Bucky with one hand— your back still turned away from him— as you use your other hand to close the door. When you turn back to face him, a complete look of hesitation is on his face.

You raise an eyebrow. “What’s up?”

Bucky clears his throat. He looks up at you, and then at his arm, sheepishly. “Can you…?”

Eyes widening, you quickly nod, ashamed that you had forgotten about something so important. “Yes, of course.”

You walk to his side, grabbing the piece of cloth on his hand and positioning yourself behind him. “Here.” You say, grabbing the bib part and looping it around his neck. You brush his hair out of the way, inadvertently appreciating its softness, as the neck ribbon then lays itself properly against his neck. “Arms up.” You order, Bucky complying instantly. Taking the other two pieces of ribbon by his side, you wrap it around his waist and tie it by his back with a small little bow, tightening it just enough for it to not fall off but still be comfortable. “There.”

“Thanks.” He mutters, turning around to face you with a grateful smile, hair swishing as he did so. You smile, but then you realize that he should probably tie it just so that it won’t get dirty or in the way.

Before you know it, you ask him, “Want me to tie your hair, too?”

Bucky’s eyes widened, and upon realizing what you had just said too, your eyes did the same. Was that too much? You quickly open your mouth, desperately trying to apologize. “I’m just— it could get dirty or in the way if you don’t… and doing it with one hand must be…” You explain, inwardly cringing at your own words and not even trying to finish your statement.

Thankfully, Bucky quickly catches up to what you were trying to say. He flashes you a reassuring grin. “I would appreciate it, doll.”

You tried to ignore the butterflies swarming in your stomach at that little nickname.

Getting the hair tie from his wrist, you desperately ignore the way your hands brushed against his. You angle your body towards his back once more, raking your hands softly in his hair, grabbing it gently and putting it into a comfortable ponytail.

“Thanks again,” He turns around to face you, gratitude clear in his eyes. You just smile back at him, feeling the heat creep up to your face. Thank God your skin doesn’t easily show colour.

You had never been this close to him before— and the bedroom incident (You had decided to label that... ’moment’ in your mind like that as of right now.) just a few minutes ago didn’t quite count as you weren’t looking at him, nor were you a hundred percent conscious during that encounter.

Before things get even more awkward, you quickly turn your body back to the kitchen island. “Well then— let’s continue with this, shall we?” You announce, wanting to just calm your feverishly beating heart and the rise of heat in your cheeks. Maybe agreeing to let him bake with you isn’t as good of an idea as you had thought.

Bucky just gave a hum as a response, and so you went about and explained to him each and every step that needed to be done. Thankfully, you had already finished mixing up the batter, and so now all you really had to do was heat up the sugar, pour the batter into the moulds, and then steam it all up. Just three more steps and you’re done.

“So,” You start, grabbing the metal containers that you had already pulled out from the cabinets before you had started. “This—” You lift one up, pointing at it with your index. “Is called a llanera. What we’re basically going to do is pour some sugar in it, heat that up until it’s nice and brown and syrup-y, and then we add the batter. Got it?”

“A yah-neh-rah?” Bucky asks, rolling the word over his tongue, getting the feel of it. You smile at his well-executed attempt.

“Yep,” You reply, placing the mould down onto the counter. You grab the sugar jar and a tablespoon, dipping it into the container and sprinkling a generous amount all over the metal container. “Actually— I’ll heat up the sugar and then you can pour the batter in, that sound good to you?”

Bucky just gave a hum once more, signalling his approval of your plan.

After about two tablespoons, you put it aside and walked towards the stove top, Bucky following beside you in earnest with the metal bowl containing the egg mixture in his arm. Turning the dial up, you put on an oven mitt as you wait for the range to get hot enough; and once it does, you hold the metal tin a few centimetres away from the top of the burner. Within minutes, the sugar caramelizes, turning into the familiar, brown syrup.

The scent that then fills the kitchen is heavenly, pure sugar wafting through the air. You hear Bucky sniff, and you let out a smile, happy that he liked it too.

You place the hot tin onto a cooling rack. “Your time to shine.” You smile up at Bucky, motioning for him to go ahead and pour the batter in.

With a gentle and cautious hand, Bucky slowly tilts the bowl into the mould, the creamy mixture pouring itself out. After a few seconds, you say, “Okay… that’s good— you can stop now.” He swiftly follows your instruction, stopping when there‘s only 2 or more so centimetres left in the pan before the batter touches the rim. He looks up at you, expectant.

Before you know it, the thought passes by your mind. How cute.

Biting your lip, you set aside the flutter in your stomach. You give him a huge grin. “That was great,” You praise him, genuine pride rushing through you. “Now let’s finish the other ones, shall we?”

Bucky and you then continued on, filling the rest of the llaneras up. It was a pleasant experience, discomfort and awkwardness not present at all while both of you worked on your respective tasks. It was… soothing, you could say.

“Nice!” You cheer, clapping your hands together as Bucky finishes filing the last of the moulds, setting down the empty metal bowl in the sink right after. “Now, let’s cover it with aluminium foil and then we can steam it and eat it.” You grin up at Bucky, who simply nods back at you.

You grab the aluminum foil, eyeballing the sizes for each of the containers. It doesn’t really matter anyway, they just had to be big enough to cover the pans. Within a few, quick minutes, all of the llaneras were ready to be steamed.

Opening up the steamer, you place three of the moulds in— mentally telling yourself that you should ask Tony to buy more steamers so that you can simply just cook the next batch of leche flans all at once. You then close the handle, setting it on medium heat and the self timer on. “There.” You announce, hands unintentionally going to and resting at your hips, proud.

You face Bucky, who seem to be just as proud as you are. It seems like he had something on his mind, though, and so you tilt your head. Curious. “Something on your mind?” You ask.

He hums, hand going back to scratch the nape of his neck. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to…” He starts, giving you a reassuring smile to show you that he meant it. “But… how’d you learn how to bake?”

Your breath hitches in your throat at his question, caught off guard as the answer flashes in your mind. To say you were surprised was an understatement. You had assumed that he would ask you when the leche flan would be finished— not about your… past.

Though, you figure that he deserves to know about your history, now that you basically know all about his own. He had recounted his entire life to you just an hour or two ago, after all. It’s only appropriate that you share some of your own life with him back.

You let your hands fall from your waist, resting them in front of your stomach as you fiddled with them as you compose your answer. “Well—“ You start, taking a deep breath. Bucky, patiently, urges for you to go on with a small nod. “I don’t— I don’t really remember much from my past… just a few memories here and there.” You take a pause.

“But— there had always been this one memory, which… always stood out from the rest.” You bite your lower lip, the recollection taking place in your mind, making you smile. “I was in my lola’s— my grandma’s kitchen, dough in my hand and flour everywhere and we were—“ You feel your throat tightening up, making you take another pause. Bucky, still as patient as ever, gives you a small smile and wordlessly urges for you to go on. “We were making pandesal… a type of bread…” You continue, smiling, remembering the sticky hands and the rays of the hot southeast sun passing by the blinds. “It was a calm afternoon… just me and her, baking...”

“That’s all I really remember of her, and so I… every time I feel overwhelmed or every time I’m having a bad day I just— bake.” You conclude, looking up at him. There was more to the story, more that you have yet to tell him, memories that are still hard to share; but even with the small piece of it leaving your chest, your whole body feels lighter, grateful for having been listened to.

Bucky just stares back at you, respect evident on his face, a small smile still on his lips. “I’m… thankful that you shared that with me, Y/N.” He says, and as your name rolls off his tongue, you can’t help but smile back.

You were about to say something, but the moment was cut off by the steamer's angry beeping. You let out a small giggle as you see Bucky flinch. “Well— let’s check up on those lil’ things, shall we?”

Opening up the steamer and waving the steam away from your face, your mouth waters at the sight before you. They looked perfect.

Quickly grabbing a serving plate, you take one of the tins out and place it upside down on the ceramic— it would probably be even better if you let it cool down first in the fridge, but you can hardly wait. You give it a couple of taps, stopping once you hear the familiar ‘plop’ sound.

You take off the llanera, and a pristine and perfect looking leche flan greets you back. You hear Bucky hum in approval beside you as you take out a fork, getting a slice. Turning to your side and raising the utensil up at him, you ignore the slowly rising heartbeat in your rib cage as you muster up the courage to say, “Want the first bite?”

Bucky seemed to be taken aback at first, and for a moment you fret that you might have overestimated and overstepped your boundaries, but a small nod from him eases your worry. Lifting it up to his mouth, he lets you give him the slice. You decide to ignore the intimacy of the moment, as is the heat in your cheeks; instead focusing on his expression.

He doesn’t show nor say anything at first; and you furrow your eyebrows. Was it too sweet for his taste? Had you accidentally let some egg whites mix in with the yolks?

Before you have the chance to ask him what he thought of it, Bucky swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as his lips curled into a huge grin. “Damn... that’s really good Y/N.”

Relief rushing through you at his approval, you laugh, happy that he likes it. Not wasting another second, you open your mouth and give yourself your own slice; savouring the creaminess and sweetness of the desert. It tasted heavenly.

Looking back at Bucky, you startle yourself out of your sweet paradise as he stared back at you. Light blue— almost cerulean— eyes gazing back into yours.

“Thank you.” were the only words out of his mouth, but that still didn’t stop your heart from fastening it’s pace nor the butterflies from welcoming themselves into your stomach.

His deep and raspy voice clearly enunciated every single emotion, and you know, deep in your heart, that he wasn’t just talking about the dessert.

You smile back at him, eyes crinkling, as you say, “You’re welcome.”

[aphzooau]

You said ALMOST everyone is in the zoo, who ISN'T in the zoo anyway???

sbjs

honestly just characters I'm probably forgetting about

like we have

Prussia, Germany, Italy (both north and south), Japan, France, England, Russia, America, Canada, China, Taiwan, Korea, Belarus, Cuba, Liechtenstein, Switzerland, Hungary, Austria, Ukraine, and Poland

everyone else I kinda forgot about when making the au --w--" I'll add them later tbh i forgot about this au for awhile woops

[cheryllcher]

it's my first time participating in inktober and it's not my best work and im late too woops. but im not gonna do all the days just once in a while cuz im busy and there's even an accompanying story below (sorry my laptop's woozy so i can't add the cut from there)

---

Sprinklebug wondered around Paris, jumping from rooftop to rooftop. She had been patrolling all evening and was heading towards the Eiffel Tower where she would meet her partner and kiss each other goodnight.

You would think that she would grow out of her sprinkle obsession in her twenties. Nope, and her boyfriend never stopped loving his sour gummy worms either.

She landed onto the top of the famous monument with ease, almost falling over when she saw the display in front of her. Sprinkles littered the ground, along with sprinkle-decorated roses, everywhere. Her chaton was standing in the middle of the scene with a bouquet of rainbow roses in his arms, his adoring look warmed by the surrounding fairy lights.

"Chaton? What's the occasion today? First the amazing dinner at that fancy restaurant and now this?"

"Can't a cat show his Sprinklebug how much he loves her?" And there's the smirk.

"Hmm, I don't know, maybe?"

He handed her the beautiful bouquet and his face lit up in realisation.

"Oh, I forgot something," he pulled out a sprinkle shaker and proceeded to sprinkle-up the roses. "There, much better."

Sprinklebug giggled, placing the beautiful bouquet behind her on the beam of the tip of the Eiffel Tower. She spun back around fully preparing to give her Gummy Chat his reward, when she saw him kneeling on one knee. She gasped as she caught sight of the black box in his hand, which would have camouflaged well if not for the little sprinkles on it. It's not real sprinkles she notes, meaning it will be stuck there forever and ever.

"Marinette, My Lady, Bugaboo, Princess, Sprinklebug Dupain-Cheng, you have been the sweetest thing to happen to me. My sour life has never been so blessed with so many sprinkles, and you make my heart turn to gummy every single time. So please, tell me Mari, will you marry me?"

He then opened the box, and inside was a diamond ring with tiny gemstone sprinkles on it.

"I got it customed, so now it will be sprinkled forever!"

Tears running down her face, her heart just positively aching in bliss, she nodded her head, and she could see his shoulders relax. He must have actually been nervous. He slipped the ring onto her finger with a kiss to the knuckles, a murmured "My royal sprinkleness" escaping his lips.

They had a lot of cleaning up to do, sure. But for now Sprinklebug remained cuddled up to her fiancé, his gummy worm tail wrapped around her waist, simply enjoying the moment. Oh, and after she finishes up that shaker of course.