#This is an old fling and I can't be convinced otherwise

[hazelenergy]

Hiii for the edgy/OC ask game I'm curious of 2, 24 & 25 for Hazel of course.

What's something about your OC that people wouldn't expect just from looking at them?

From a roleplay perspective, I think most people would see Hazel as dumb and easy to trick. And they wouldn't be 100% wrong on that. She is easy to lead in certain directions if you play your cards right. However, she is rather shrewd. Her manipulation and subterfuge/persuasion are some of her largest dice pools. She is absolutely fine with letting someone believe she is easy to read and too stupid to be underhanded. For her 6 years of unlife, letting herself play the role of helpless fledgling has gotten her a lot of aid that she would have otherwise never seen as a thinblood.

Appearance wise, you wouldn't know she is a natural blonde. Hazel is a thinblood with a lifelike appearance. Her hair still grows, her roots will peak through if she doesn't maintain her dye job. On top of that, she still breathes, still sweats, and looks alive- at night. Without supernatural senses or a really good roll- most living and unliving things assume she is a human. And thats one of the things that makes her very dangerous- how easily she blends with prey around her. Hell, she had an entire camarilla assuming she was someone's ghoul- for eight months.

What is an alternative life path your OC might have gone down? How different would their life be if they'd made those decisions?

Ooh. Lets start with an interesting what if. What if she wasn't killed and embraced that night? Hazel would have continued her human life, drudging through a retail job. But- it was paying the bills. She would have held on for the next two years til the pandemic hit. She likely would have been laid off like everyone else and after a brief spiral would get convinced to go back to school online. Additionally, Hazel was starting to rekindle a friendship/old fling with a woman named Lisa. Lisa was Hazel's most steadfast friend, despite her battles with addiction. She worked hard to get Hazel to come hang out with new people, go new places. Had Hazel not died and ghouled Lisa, maybe that romance would have re-blossomed more organically, into something stronger than the first round. Ultimately, I think Hazel's human life would have continued to grow more mundane- but she would have been happy and proud of the work she had put in to build the life she had. And still going to goth clubs to dance her nights away.

Another what if. What if Hazel never disobeyed her adoptive sire. This moment is one of the defining beats in Hazel's unlife, when she starts making her own decisions and not following someone blindly into the night. Hazel is a creature that craves being nurtured, and Mary Andrews had played her role perfectly. Had Hazel not seen through that ruse, its very likely she would have become fully bonded to her Tremere sire. Wait- Tremere's can't blood bond-- shh shh. Carna. Carna loresheet #4. Mary had learned how to reforge a bond and had already successfully bonded one of her adoptive childer (Tommy Martin) into obedience. Hazel would have been next. For starters, Hazel would have gotten into less trouble, and her alchemy research would have gone much faster. Secondly, Mary had once floated the theory that Hazel, as a thinblood, could potentially choose her own clan- if she entirely drank the blood of someone. Sanctioned Diablerie is something that the court of Atlanta had done in its past- and Mary almost certainly could have cashed in boons to get that vitae. In fact, Mary was aware that there was an unwelcome visitor in the city- a still living Goratrix. If they worked together, Hazel could be an unexpected force to capture this infiltrator. (In the actual chronicle, Hazel sides with Cass and turns on Mary- and has to flee once they defeat her). Pay no attention to the fact that this creature was Mary's ex. And if they played their cards right, Hazel may have become a full-fledged Tremere- abandoning her alchemy and lifelike nature.

What is your favorite thing about your OC?

I love how much she has changed since her original chronicle. She has grown organically and is my longest running character. She started as something helpless and craving comfort and stability and is now a fairly powerful leader among her thinbloods. The safehouse system she has built in Tampa, Miami, and eventually OKC is quite powerful for thinbloods. She still struggles, craves comfort, but she is able to make sure she has plans in place to protect whats hers. I am curious to see if she continues to change and grow or if she will eventually stagnate and freeze. It is a thinblood's nature to be in constant flux- for better or worse.

I also really enjoy drawing her. Its fun essentially playing dress up with her. She puts thought into her outfits- so therefore I have to be selective with her garments. She has enough smarts to hide weapons and alchemy within her layers and pockets. She enjoys making statements whenever she attends Elysium.

Most of all, I love that she is unapologetically a thinblood. She knows it adds insult to injury when she outsmarts older kindred. She knows she is unwanted, she knows what superstitions encircle her. But so what? Thats the same shit as being alive. She doesn't want to be anything else, and to this night refuses the temptation to become anything else.

[whymustablogbenamed]

Headcanon: these two have totally had sex at one point. They clearly know each other. They’ve fought together. The way Randor touches his arm that he’s only ever shown to do to Marlena, his wife. Randor’s softening voice as he addresses Ceratus, begging him to remember the old times and help them. Ceratus’s shock and ‘it can’t be!’ when he realizes who he was fighting. I just--

[muffindaddystyles]

𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄𝐃

Author note: Mention of drugs, sickness and blood (if you're not comfortable with it don't read it) . It mighty be heart warming fluffyyyyyy.

You're his kitten. No matter the consequences you're. Cause even in his anger sometimes (which's rare and it's on the silly go-to's) he still sticks to that pet name because he met you like that under the bus stop's shelter in a heavy rain offered you an umbrella (while you were huffing and puffing like a kitten annoyed with the weather), walked you home, had a tea with you and some chocolate chip cookies. Been bestfriends from that year and there isn't a red light to your guys wild adventures—but he's been having a rough time recently. Had a cruel heart shattering breakup from a relationship that he thought was a never ending dream (she brought him happiness in a weird way he couldn't put into words) indeed it tightened your chest but his happiness's most important to you. To overcome it he's been scribbling notebooks over notebooks with lyrics that screams he miss her and the sex for the most part of it. It breaks your heart.

He's usually the one to melt all over you, give you forehead kisses, cuddles you when your periods are the bitchiest, makes you brekkie if he stays a night, runs you a bath and sometimes brings you pomegranate berried candles (he lies that he got them as a gift, he's one hell of a liar). He takes care of you with so much gentleness and helps you with study after wiping your tears and reassuring you telling you how proud he's of you. It made you guilty sometimes 'cos if you'd be in camille's place. . .you'd never be able not to get jealous. She was cool with it. Fills you with another curiosity that maybe she treated it like a fling.

He was devastated. Knocking on your door feebly. Then the moment your small confused body was under his weary gaze, boom!! It crashed upon him like a pitch storm and he fell to his knees tucking his head in your armpit crying his heart out. At that moment you felt his pain radiating to you and twisting your own stomach with a dagger, it was insufferable. He gave out no-deep scrapes but not to freak your bones muttered that he lost her. Eventually his bottled up emotions seeped into hues infront of you by passing week and to your littlest of information you got to know that they didn't ended up well in some perspectives so their relationship turned out to be a downfall. So As, you do with your girlie best-friend when she have a breakup you did it with Harry too. It didn't included feral clubbing (you left that part to his mates) but watching sappy movies that could fill your ice-cream bucket once you eat it whole, doing homemade face masks, playing drunk uno and knocking on your neighbours door to run way at last, dragging his arse to museum and in all of this you ended up convincing him to adopt a kitty (she lives with you thou).

The roles have been reversed completely!

He's been living at your flat for five weeks now. It's fading his usual cheekiness and the itch to annoy you every second he gets. Instead, it's just eating, spending bits of hours with you, going out with his mates and coming back to crash at your couch padding in your room in the wee of night demanding a warm coddle from you and that his back hurts from the cruelty of that single spring popping from the leather, staying with him when he'd wrench his stomach out in the morning. He's sensitive. His heart's soft that's one of the reason he gets hurt real quick, you admire that about him and reminds him that it's one of his qualities you're totally in love with. You're gentle with him. Giving him space and time to recover. Going with him at his friend's birthday little get together not drinking at all knowing one would have to stay sober as he chugged red wine staining his hawain shirt and when he clumsily poked his pink tongue out lazily to reach for the cigarette in her hand you tugged him back into you before he'd burn his tongue with sparkles announcing it's time to head back home and he'd be a pain in arse (a beautiful one though because his antics makes you all mushy) when he pretended to steal sandwiches from the table hiding them under his shirt saying that "'m pregnant with twins and it's hard to carry them" while you dragged him outside making him wear his coat like a stubborn toddler. Making him cupcakes sometimes, playing with his fluff of curls while he reads the book she gave him. It hurts. But, it subsides down with his single amiable glance that tells you he needs you. He always had. He always will. You give him extra forehead kisses and pecks on cheek while leaving for UNI, because it's irresistible to give dust to his pouty sulk.

It's seven in the morning when he tumbled through your door (has a key, you even brought his clothes and toothbrush from his house—he even uses your strawberry scented shampoo and body wash) his nose tip blushed matching his cheeks, eyes pooling with haze and hair poking in every direction. You were studying for a class you've in an hour. When you saw his irirses blown out you arched your brow putting the cup down beside your thick book, to mingle his sadness he's experimenting different fun wild things (told you bout it and you even called Mitch to take care of him).

"How many am I, pet?" You asked walking towards him seeing him struggle to get out of his vans and your giggles echoed into coldness when he peers down at your crouched state with his gold fish-y eyes, "dunno. . . but ye'r seem like. .like a-a sunflower floatin' in me head." His lips molding around his each word agonisingly slow drawl and his voice hoarse and scratchy. "You need rest, bambi." You got him out of his jeans and socks knowing he despises to sleep with layers on. "I'll be back with you in some hours. Hmm? Then we'll snuggle into blankets, you me and. . .salsa the pussy cat." You have to control your laugh everytime you take the kitty's name (Harry's worst at giving names you were horrified when he once joked that he loves chelsea boots so much he could name his daughter Chelsea) He whines at that nodding his head but not loosening his grip from around your wrist while you tucked him under your baby green patch work quilt. It's like his brain and heart can't decide how to choose.

On your way back you got Jeff's call asking why Harry isn't picking his phone his own voice resembling that of Harry's and you know he'd be looking shit at the time. Harry was still snoring out like a bulb in bright day on his tummy and you shook him gently at first but when he didn't woke up you had to be a bit harsher. "Harry wake up pet. . . Jeff's been calling ye for since." But, not even a hum in response so you placed your finger under his nose checking if he's even alive. Gratefully he was just sleeping like a literal corpse (he argues that he isn't that bad of a sleeper but in fact he is. Everything around him would burn down and he wouldn't even change a side).

It was seven in the evening when you were preparing for dinner when he woke up grumpy. His nose scrunched up, lips quirked up as if he tasted something yucky and his gait jello. You eyed him quietly even when he came in kitchen to drink water.

"Jeff was callin'. . ." You quipped stirring the veggies before pouring soup into a bowl and sliding it his way on the counter, "I know bombarded me phone with calls—" He gruffed spooning a mouthful and you flinched when he tried to cool it inside his mouth with "hawahhoohaha" little sounds (he knew it was hot, he's just an impatient leech).

"Stop being a gremlin. He told me ye' aren't writing, leaving everything like a cliffhanger neither you're attending the meetings he calls you at. . . I think you're done with your mourning it's time to do what you actually love and is there for you. Your music." You frown seriously trying to put some senses into his forever high brain. He drops the spoon back and dips his brows frustratedly, pinching his eyes shut.

"Fuckin' hell. Stop being my mama!" It's not the first time you guys are arguing and you're not gonna take it to heart. You stood up towering him and jabbing your finger to his chest, "you better stop filling your system with drugs before eighteen year olds come to you thinking you're a drug dealer—" He snickers at that a total mocking one (you know he's doing nothing hard it's just shrooms in the safe environment otherwise you'd have never never allowed him) but still you had to bring him back to his line so it was necessary. "Piss off." He mutters still slurping on his soup and you left him there with a loud smack on his head, "Wanker."

You care about him. Always did. Always will. He's the love of your life. Even your love has nourishment of just water and lacks sunshine from your sun it's still there into existence, how could you see him like this? Wasting his precious time and energy. It's impossible.

All you heard before going to deep slumber was the tinsy creak of your main door after that it was silent and darkness until now your phone buzzed under your pillow resonating Niall's tired words. You were a wreck havoc fumbling for your coat and wallet, covering pathway to tube with shivering legs hallucinating that everyone's eyeing your fiddly self with judgemental stare even though there're few.

You rushed to Niall's doorsteps knocking like a maniac, "where's he? Is he okay? told ye—" You pushed him aside marching inside to look for him. "He looked fine, he's a strong guy y/n they took him to hospital." You snaps your neck raising your brows.

"What the fuck, d'ya mean hospital!?" Your heart hammering in her ribcage overthinking the worst scenarios. "Take me there. right. fuckin' now." You tell him firmly not caring even if he's high too. Niall leads you to his car heating it up in the first beat taking glances of your petite body leaning against the glass with lips sucked in, eyes watered and legs constantly on bounce so placed his hand atop your knee giving you reassuring squeeze and a genial smile.

Your pink cheeks warming up with the heat of hospital radiating your way and loud growl left your chest when your blurry vision cleared to the sight of dishelved Harry sitting on the bench outside of ER, his irirses weary, mouth stuffed with cotton and has few scratches of rashes on his elbows otherwise he's fine. With each step of yours towards him something kept breaking inside you like you're walking on the nails and it's ripping you raw. He raised his head timidly hearing footsteps and when his eyes fell over your worried state panic flashed over his features and his only gaze turned you a puddling emitting heavy sobs within you before reaching towards him. The reality of situation dawning upon you because from what Niall told you in the car that they were high trying to have some fun, drove around neighbour hood and Harry jumped out of the window and bit his tongue between his teeth resulting in heavy bleeding a deep gnash (the fuckin' dumbstick he is).

"I hate you. I hate you so fuckin' much! you bastard." You tried to shout at him but the voice that came out of your mouth was that of mice as you threw harsh blows at his chest, bottom lip jutting wet and salty tears tricking down. He wraps his hand around your wrists ushering you closer down to his chest speaking muffled, "'orry." causing you to grunt angrily into the crook of his neck.

"Sorry my ass!" When you tried to pull back he tightened his hold round your neck snuggling you warmly to him with a hum. Jeff came back with medicines and when he parted his lips to speak in his defence you ignored him wiping your tears with the heel of your palms muttering a, "I hate you guys." The drive back was silent and the walk to your flat too, you passed by him to lock yourself into your room (you wouldn't because of the fact you wouldn't be able to sleep if not sure he's okay few feets away from you). When Harry attempted to roll his tongue to make some words nothing came out but a hiss making you spin, "'s okay we'll speak in the mornin'." Saying this you headed to bed and when you were bout to turn the lamp off he was lurking at the foot of your bed with a pillow in his arms smushing his face into it and squeezing it close to his chest gesticulating you that he wants a cuddle.

"Only 'cos y're adorable." You muttered moving your bum to make space for him suppressing your cooe when he grinned showing nothing but snow cotton, fuckin' hell being this cute should be illegal! He snapped his finger to call Salsa and she instantly galloped to shrink into his side while you spooned him. You woke up to the running tap and the time you were stretching under your quilt with yawns he padded out looking healed than last night.

He got a little lisp as he spoke, "can we talk?" You nodded knuckling at your sticky eyes criss-crossing your legs. "'Forgive me kitten." He continues, "sorry fo' mistreatin' ye' last night." You shake your head not realizing tears are dropping down your collarbones.

"Please. . .I don't wanna be a party-pooper in your life. you can live your life to finest but not at the sake of your life Harry– and. . . and if you're trying to invade the feelin' of sadness with all of this I don't approve it. What bout me? dunno what'll do if somethin' will happen to you, pet. S'not fair to me. is it? Just. . . love y—" your confessions cameflouging with sobs.

"Oh baby. ." He immediately cradled you in his embrace trying to soothe you with 'sorrys' and 'I'll never do somethin' like that again, promise'. Smooching slobery kisses all over your face and when you gazed up at him attracting him closer to your clean warm features all he did was peck the corner of your lips tenderly pulling away to pat your hair with a sigh.

"So. . .ye' love me." He teased you and you rolled your eyes grabbing his chin with your fingers, "show me your tongue." biting down your laugh when he retorted misheviously, "hmm. Wanna kiss it better?" Blowing him off with a remark that he's an utter pervert hiding the fact it splashed crimson to your neck.

"Mind makin' me poor self some brekkie?" He pouts and you giggled pecking the corner of his burgundy lips getting a timid smile in return, "in trade of?" He hip-checked you straddling Salsa over his shoulder and grabbing her little paws to expertise her in some dancey-dance moves.

"Mind bloggin' orgasm–ique dinner." He cackled loudly at the end when you shook your head in fake disappointment at him and he clinged by your side helping you to make some breakfast.

Think so you guys will figure it out.

[imaginationintowords]

Wanderlust Adventures

Chapter 10

Reader x Bucky!Travel Blogger; Social Media AU

Series Masterlist

[a/n: please pay attach to the first page break photo stop scrolling there and then read the text portion, otherwise the photos after the first page break will spoil the rest]

No POV

Bucky quickly pulls away from Carol, stunned at what just happened. He caught something move from the corner of his eye and glanced over to see Y/n standing there, completely stunned at what she just saw. Carol looks over, and notices Y/n there as well.

"Y/n this isn't what it looks like." Bucky quickly says, stepping away from Carol.

"Oops." was all Carol could saying, not really looking apologetic about the situation.

Y/n tries to walk away but Bucky grabs her by the elbow.

"Please. Please listen to me. This isn't what it looks like. You have to believe me." he pleads.

"Y/n. I'm so sorry you had to find out this way." Carol fakes an apology.

"What are you saying?" Bucky looks towards Carol, with wide eyes confused about what she is doing, "There isn't anything to find out about. Y/n please this isn't anything."

"I-" Y/n began.

"Y/n, I never wanted to hurt you. But you had to find out sooner or later." Carol comes from behind and loops her arm through Bucky's that was still holding y/n's arm.

"What the hell are you doing?" Bucky angrily says to Carol, detaching himself from her.

"No need to put up a front, Bucky. She caught us." Carol shrugs.

"No. I am not putting up a front. What the hell are you doing?" Bucky yells at her.

Y/n finds this opportunity to walk away.

"Y/n please. Please don't go. Listen to me." Bucky catches up to her in the hotel lobby.

"How could you? I-I came here to tell you the boys told me everything about Natasha. And to apologize for not listening to you and now you're here making out with my best friend. I am so fucking confused." Y/n says, completely lost.

"We were not making out. Please come into my room and let me explain everything. Please." He pleads with her, eyes welling up.

"You're just going to lie. They always do." She says.

"No. Y/n you have to believe me. I don't even like Carol. She came onto me. Telling me that you didn't like me."

"What?" Y/n cuts off Bucky.

"Yeah. She said that I was just some fling. That you have some guy waiting for you back home." Bucky tells her.

"That's not true." she says even more confused about everything.

Why would Carol say something like that, she thought.

"I KNOW that. I could tell she was lying because she just kept saying bad things about you that just didn't add up to what you told me back in Greece. And then you texted me wanting to talk and I knew that something was just off. But you got to believe me Y/n, I'm not like this. I would never do that to you or to anyone. I've been through it, I'm sure the boys told you that. Please. Please you have to believe me."

"I'm so confused. Carol is my best friend. Why would she do all of this?" Y/n questions.

"I don't know. I do know that Carol has had a bit of a crush on me. When we used to work together she always tried to get me to go out with her but I was with Natasha at the time and I kept telling her I wasn't interested. I'm still not interested." He tells y/n.

"I-I need to go. I need to talk to Val. I'm just so confused." She sadly says.

"Please Y/n. You have to believe me. I know we don't know each other for that long and you have no reason to believe me, but you have to." He pleads once again.

"I need to go." Y/n says, still standing in the spot, not moving. Unsure of what she should really do. Part of her was hoping Carol could just come down and tell her that Bucky is lying and that she should just believe her.

"Let me go with you. Please. If I were lying to you, wouldn't Carol be here right now trying to convince you of that. But she isn't and I am. Stressing to you that you have to believe me."

"Okay." she agrees, "You can come with me."

Y/n was so confused and heartbroken at the same time. Because if Bucky is lying then he really is like the rest. But if he isn't, why would Carol do something like this. They've been friends since they were 14 years old. None of this makes sense, and the only one who could make sense of it all would be Valkyrie.

They walked in silence to her hotel.

Once they got there, Val was fuming. More than Y/n has ever seen.

"I can't believe she fucking did this. Again." Valkyrie fumed, pacing around the room while Bucky and Y/n watched.

"What do you mean again?" Y/n asked, confused.

Valkyrie paused. Realizing what she just said. She did plan on telling Y/n what happened now that Carol has done it again. But not when she's filled with anger.

Valkyrie takes a deep breath and looks over at Y/n with sad eyes. She knew she had to tell her, everything, she was just afraid of how Y/n will react. She's kept this from her for a year. She deserves whatever reacting Y/n gives her.

"Can I preference by saying how truly sorry I am for never telling you this. I just truly believed her when she told me that she would never do something like this again." she starts.

"What are you talking about?" Y/n says, with an uneasy feeling in her stomach.

"Last year, remember how Carol just sort of dropped off our radar?"

"Yeah. But that was because she was so busy with work." Y/n says.

"No. That's not the real reason. Carol did some very bad things, that had an affect on your life, and I had caught her and made her promise to stay away." Valkyrie says, trying to figure out a way to explain to Y/n what happened.

Bucky remained in the back by the door, trying to give the girls some type of privacy, but also knowing he needed to be here, for Y/n.

"Valkyrie. What did Carol do? Just fucking tell me. Stop walking around me like I'm going to break any fucking second. Just tell me!" Y/n says, getting frustrated with the way Valkyrie is walking around the matter.

"Remember that job opportunity you had last year? With Vanity Fair. To work full time as a writer for their travel column." Valkyrie says.

"Yes. I didn't get it for whatever known reason. Even though my agent said they were practically begging to get me on their team."

"You didn't get it because, Carol told them that you didn't really write your own pieces. That you had a ghost writer, and that you had your parents buy your followers. She lied to them so you wouldn't get the job." Valkyrie explains.

"What? Why would she do that? How do you even know that?" Y/n asks, feeling like a bomb was just dropped on her, which figuratively it was.

"One of the writers that I was doing freelance work for told me. First he asked how I could be friends with someone who was lying to everyone, and when I was confused he told me everything. I told him that that wasn't true. That I know for a fact that you would never do that. But by then it was too late because they already hired someone else. When I asked who told him that, he told me one of their models did, Carol Danvers." Valkyrie continues.

"Then when I went to go confront Carol about it, that's when I saw..." Valkyrie pauses, scared to tell Y/n what came next. Knowing that this is the cover up that's going to change the structure of their whole friendship.

"Spit it out Valkyrie." Y/n demanded.

"I'm scared to tell you what I saw, because you're going to hate me. I would hate me. I hid this from you for a fucking year. So before I tell you this, just know that I only did what I thought was best at the time. I thought I was protecting you, I knew I should've just told you the truth, would've saved all of us," she tearfully says, waving her hand around the room to include Bucky in the equation, "the trouble of what's going on now. But I didn't and I've had to live with the guilt of it all for the past year. And that's on me. If our friendship ends, that's on me."

"Valkyrie, that's not going to happen." Y/n softly says, trying to reassure her friend.

Y/n has only ever seen Valkyrie this emotional when she called off her engagement to Thor.

"Don't say that. Not until you hear the rest." She says.

"Okay. When you're ready." She assures her, grabbing her hands to hold.

Valkyrie takes one final deep breath, to calm her nerves.

"When I went to confront Carol at her place, that's when I saw her kissing Peter outside of her door." Valkyrie hesitantly says, looking right into Y/n's eyes.

Y/n instantly drops Valkyrie's hands.

"I kno-"

"You saw Peter, Peter Parker, my ex, who wasn't my ex at the time kissing Carol." Y/n cuts her off, in complete shock over what she was hearing.

"Yes." Valkyrie nods.

"Was Carol the one he was cheating on me with?" Y/n asks, with a slight broken tone to her voice.

"Yes. She admitted to me after I had caught her, that she and Peter were having an affair for awhile." Valkyrie admits.

"And you never told me?" Y/n asks, trying to piece it all together. It was a lot of information, life changing information.

"I am so sorry, Y/n. I should have-"

"But you didn't." Y/n sharply cuts her off.

"I didn't." Valkyrie agrees.

"And you should have." Y/n says, her eyes filling up with tears.

The betrayal she feels right now is unmatched to any feeling she's ever felt.

"And I should have."

"Why didn't you?" Y/n says, she's trying to keep her emotions at bay. Trying to understand why Valkyrie didn't tell her.

"Because Carol begged me not to. She said she was going to end it all. And that she had no idea why she lied to Vanity Fair and why she was having an affair with Peter. She broke down crying saying how guilty she felt. I believed her. I had never seen her so upset."

"She promised that she would never do it again. That's when I made the choice to not tell you, but to tell Carol that she needed to give us space. That she needed to take some time to figure out who she wanted to be. I thought I was doing the right thing. We had all been friends for so long, that I just thought I was doing what was best for us all, to try and save what was left of our more than a decade long friendship." Valkyrie says, explaining.

"But that decision didn't affect you, Val. That affected me. You knew this whole time. When Peter confessed. When Carol said she had to take a step back to figure out her own life. You knew the truth, as you comforted me. As I cried over Peter, because I thought I was going to marry him." Y/n's voice starts to get louder.

"I know. And I am so fucking sorry. I wish I could go back and change it. And tell you everything, then maybe we all wouldn't be in this position. Then maybe you and Bucky didn't have to worry about Carol sabotaging your relationship. Then maybe I wouldn't have felt so fucking guilty about lying to you, and I would still be with Thor."

"Don't. Don't put you breaking up with Thor on me. That was all you. I even told you to take a week to think it over. Even after the fact I kept telling you to talk to him." Y/n cuts her off, getting more angrier by the second.

"I'm not putting it on you. It's all on me. My ended engagement is on me. Carol sabotaging what you and Bucky have, that's on me. All the lies, that's all on me. Our friendships ending, that's all on me. Because I thought I was doing what was best." Valkyrie owns up, with tears streaming down her face.

Y/n stands there staring at Valkyrie, tears also streaming down her own face.

After a few moments of silence, Bucky hesitantly softly places his arm on Y/n's shoulder. For a second there she forgot he was still in the room. She glanced over to look at him.

"I need you to leave." she says looking at him.

"Okay." he agrees, dropping his hand and turning away.

"Not you." Y/n stops him, he stops and looks back at her.

"Valkyrie."

Valkyrie's head snaps and eyes wide.

"I need you to leave, Valkyrie. I need some time to process all of this." Y/n sternly says, but her voice crack gives her away.

"Okay. Take all the time you need." Valkyrie sadly says, bowing her head as she leaves Bucky and Y/n alone.

"Are you okay?" Bucky asks her, touching her shoulder again.

"I don't even know." She confesses breaking down into his chest.

He wraps his arms around her securely, rubbing her back, silently letting her know he's there.

[Social Media AU]: Y/n is a popular travel blogger, and a freelance travel writer for a magazine. She travels the world with her two best friends, Valkyrie who is a freelance graphic designer that the reader “drags” out of bed to see the world, and Carol who’s a new up and coming model. This is the first time in a year all three girls are traveling together due to Carol’s new busy career. A month long European excursion, that might end up being their last trip together due to their lives taking them elsewhere. Bucky Barnes used to be a model but now travels the world with his best friends. He has a hard time commiting to one thing, which is why he loves to travel so much. He travels the world with his two best friends, Steve who runs a gym in Brooklyn and Sam, who works for a popular food magazine where he gets to travel and eat all the food he wants. Bucky has once again convinced his childhood best friends to join him on a month long trip to escape the trapped feeling of being back in New York. Steve and Sam are worried about Bucky and his constant need to runaway from his issues, they’re hoping this trip will be an eye opener for their friend. Inspired by: @geosaurusrrex osaurusrrex’s social media AUs.

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[ready8210]

“Let me in your heart again”

1. He hates me

Vivian

Munich / Germany - Musicland Studios

I nervously pluck my blouse, sitting in the sparing lobby of Munich's „Musicland Studios", as I wait for the first "meeting" with my future „boss", no less than QUEEN.

You've read correctly. QUEEN! I can't get my head around it yet.

The band was searching for a photographer, to document the tour life and studio work of their upcoming "works" album and their following world - tour, which would later lead them - or should I say US - from Europe, over Asia, Australia to America and Africa.

I was one of the lucky ones, the band and management put on the shortlist in late October, last year. A view weeks later, I was informed that it was me, who would attend the band for the next two years.

Two years, I think to myself, wrinkling my brows in disbelief.

At this moment I don't know if I am incredible lucky or should be scared.

I still desperately try to smooth out the wrinkles on my pastel - yellow blouse, as I nervously scan the room. Leaning back in an uncomfortable armchair, I inhale deep as I gaze over my chosen outfit.

Earlier today I was frustrated standing in front of my closet, throwing around varying outfits, unable to decide what to wear for my meeting with the band.

What would one wear when meeting Queen?

I racked my brain this morning, that would change my whole life.

Needles to say I didn't come to an answer.

After one hour of putting on nearly all content of my wardrobe, I decided to go for casual and simple. I really didn't want to look like an applicant for a secretary job.

I wear that pastel yellow sleeveless blouse I already mentioned 2 times (you have to excuse, I'm extremely nervous), paired with light blue skinny jeans and simple pumps. My wavy hazelnut brown hair is put into a ponytail on this hot July summer day.

Fiddling with the strap of my bag, I hear a door open and dull music echoing in the hallways of the oppressive building.

It is QUEEN, I recognize immediately, forming a smile on my lips.

The music reaches my ears as I am leaning myself forward, trying to get closer to the source of sound.

There it is, the mesmerizing voice of the one and only Freddie Mercury, bringing on goosebumps all over my body. I cling to the armrest, on the chair I am sitting in, as the door closes and the sound fades all to fast.

As you can imagine, this last event didn't lessen my massive nervousness.

You now may've recognized for whom of the four bandmates my heart beats.

In certain circumstances this may change within the next hour. But it don't want to anticipate things.

„Miss Kurzmann" a monotone voice behind a to high counter tears me from my thoughts. „Mr Beach will arrive in about 15 minutes. Can I offer you some tee, coffee or water in the meantime?"

„Just water, thank you" I respond barely audible, biting on my lip. I couldn't handle more at the current stage of my tense mood.

15 minutes. Great. 15 minutes unsuccessfully trying to cool down my nerves, to later make a "smooth" impression.

"Here you go, Ms", I hear the monotone voice again, coming closer, handing me my water.

She's a quiet conservative dressed, middle aged woman, wearing her grey curly hair in a shoulder-length bob. The kind of person, you wouldn't expect to work in a studio, with an endless coming and going of superstars.

Otherwise today its me, sitting in that exact same front hall.

I am by all means far from being conservative, but at the same time, even more far from being some "rockstar material".

The reserved type, always taking a backseat and avoiding the spotlight like wolves the fire.

Ok, I have to confess "reserved" is an understatement. I'm hopelessly shy, especially when it comes to situations like today. Not that I would experience something like this every day.

The only possible outcome for today is disaster.

"Ok, time to relax Viv, you already have the bloody job. Get a grip!!" I quietly whisper, trying to convince myself for the remaining time sitting there.

"Still 11 minutes to go" I mumble, as I look at my watch with trembling hands.

"Your first time?" A voice from the other end of the room brings me back to reality.

"Please excuse me, is it your first time working for a band like Queen?" She quickly continuous.

All I can manage as response, is putting on a tortured smile while nodding almost invisible.

"Don't worry Ms, the band is absolutely thrilled by your photographs and barely can await to finally meet you. And by the way, they won't give you a hard time. They're all relaxed, down to earth guys.

Relaxed,.... so the complete opposite of me, it crosses my mind, as I stare at my watch again.

"9 minutes" I whisper, while watching visitors entering the building.

I hesitantly sip on my water, to not look to helpless and lost and to somehow BRIDGE the DAMN REMAINING 9 MINUTES. Please excuse my little emotional outburst.

Ok Viv....

Oh, crap! Now I realize, I haven't introduced myself to you.

I'll cut it short.

I'm Vivian Kurzmann, 33 years old/young (it's up to you to decide), born and raised in Germany, living in London, in the middle of a divorce, freelance photographer with passion and right now on a kamikaze mission.

"Ok Viv. Think about ways to relax!" I tell myself a tad to loud.

"Excuse me? You need something Ms?" It echoes in the room.

"Oh, I'm ...I was just reading something". To cover up my little white lie, I grab the first magazine I can find, from a massive steel table, right in front of me.

Under extreme tension, I flip through the magazine, without even realizing what I'm looking at.

Maybe I find an article about reducing stress in here?

Come on Viv, figure something out. I try to remember while laying back the unhelpful piece of paper.

"Autogenic training!" I mumble. Wrong time wrong place. Don't be ridiculous.

"Smoking?" Yes, I smoke now and than, an awful habit, I know. I decide to quit smoking for today, not wanting to risk to smell like a bilgy ashtray.

"Meditation, Yoga, ...." Google shows me some options on my phone, which I grabbed earlier to soothe my trembling hands.

"Very helpful fuc*** World Wide Web. I cannot possibly roll out my yoga mat in here and do the downward dog." I mutter and shut google down.

Taking a quick look on my phone, I realize: 4 more minutes to go.

Breath Viv, you can do this!!!!! I remind myself over and over again in my mind, that goes absolutely crazy at the very moment.

"Ms Kurzmann, Mr Beach has arrived and will be here in a minute." the nice woman informs me.

Nodding confirmative I gasp a simple "thank you."

Time stretches like chewing gum, as I finally hear a male voice approaching me. "Ms Kurzmann, I welcome you to the "Musicland Studios". I'm delighted to finally meet you in person. I'm already a big fan and admirer of your work." a brightly smiling, effusive gesticulating man surprises me, holding out his hand to me.

"Oh excuse me Ms. My name is Jim Beach."

"Kurzmann, the pleasure's all mine." I babble, while standing up way to fast, almost bumping into him.

Where's the exit? Last chance to do a runner. I helplessly look around. I must look like turkeys voting for christmas, at least I feel this way.

Mr. Beach wastes no time, taking me along the gloomy corridors towards the studio where the band is recording. "I will introduce you to the band to get to know each other and have a quick talk. Let me tell you, you really made an impression." He winks at me walking besides me. "May I ask you to take you to my office afterwards. I would like to discuss the business side and do the paperwork?"

As I stammer a convincing "sure", we reach the door of our destination, noticing, considering the amount of noise and swearing, a heated discussion reaches its peak.

Mr beach opens the door, rolling his eyes while he whispers at me "please excuse this....rockstars at work."

I can't bite back a chuckle, as the door swings open.

"Guys I want to introduce you to Ms Kurzmann." He shouts.

For a split of a second I want to curl up and die.

Much to my reassurance, the band don't even recognize the two intruders and continue their argument.

The man at my side now starts to get uneasy and tenses up, as he screams again. "DAMN GUYS!!!!"

I quickly notice the heat growing in my cheeks, as all eyes lay on us. No, on ME.

Viv, damn, now of all times. Think about ....ice....no, Antarctica, .....uh. FU**

I can only let my gaze wander for a view seconds and take in the room, as a sympathetically grinning young man, with blonde tousled hair and sunglasses - I guess the sun always shines for him, even in a pitch black cellar - room. - sprints towards me, with joyfulness and flings his arms around my neck. "Hi sweetie. Vivian, right? I'm Roger. Roger Taylor, the drummer of the pack." He sputters, as he steps back again, while turning to face the band and rolling his eyes in annoyance.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Taylor." I smile at him bashfully.

"I'll call you Viv...can I call you Viv?" I'm just Roger." He grins, with the brightest smile he can pull of.

"Alright, just Roger ." I joke, unable to suppress a giggle.

"Brian, come over!" He shouts to a large, lean man with a giant mane of brown curly hair.

The shaggy man puts down his guitar, leaning it against the wall and strolls towards me, kindly smiling, reaching out his hand for me. "Ms Kurzmann, it's a pleasure. I'm Brian May."

I like him already. He has this strongly soothing impact. At this moment....priceless.

"Vivian Kurzmann, my pleasure." I reply affectionately.

Viv, you're almost done, inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale...it wheels in my head.

Suddenly a shyly smiling man with guitar, is standing in front of me and introduces himself as John Deacon, the bassist of the group. "Miss Kurzmann, welcome to chaos." He jokes.

"I'm very pleased to meet you Mr Deacon." I give him a handshake, a bit to long as I try to interpret his restrained smile.

I think I like John Deacon, he's just like me. Exaggerated shy and reserved. My clone.

I neglect the fact that this man is a music genius!

"FREDDIE, what the hell takes you this long? Take your ass over here!!! I hear the blonde yell behind the mixing console, interrupting my thoughts.

Ok. The time has come. Breeeeath! Don't get hysterical. I internally scream. There's still some hope, this will work out right.

After a while, what seemed like eternity, no less than Freddie Mercury in flash and bone, appears in the room.

Like a tiger on prowl, he paces at me with slow, cautious moves, his lips formed into a devilish grin.

I can swear everything happens in slow motion.

I can feel his eyes - oh yes, his eyes, his beautiful big brown oceans, framed by those incredible long lashes, I could sink into right now - examine every inch of my trembling body as he spits out words, that break down my idyllic world.

"So you're the one to trample on my privacy from now on, like any greedy paparazzi, reporter and journalist out there?" He hisses while hesitating to reach his hand out to me.

I suppose that means FREDDIE MERCURY HATES ME??!!

As he construes my slack jawed and shocked expression, he continues in a dismissive tone.

"I think you know who I am, but what's your name again?

Pulling my hand away that won't receive a handshake from Freddie Mercury today, I stutter "Kurz.....Vi Vivian Kurzmann."

"Kurz Vivian Kurzmann?" he apes me, grinning cheekily, waiting for me to break down.

"This will be fun." He laughs, while shaking his head and stepping back.

STOP! Can we go back please? That's not how I fantasized this!

The thoughts in my head ride a rollercoaster when my stomach cramps at the last spoken words, still echoing in my head.

Everything feels unreal, as I stand there, watching everything in a haze.

Before I can realize what happens, he continues with a disdainfully look on his face.

"To get it straight. I'm not thrilled by the fact someone is chasing me day after day, to document every fucking move I make. I really appreciate my privacy and want you to respect this. No photos beyond the studio and the venues. Got it?"

This will be the most horrible two years of world history. Freddie Mercury hates me.

As he turns round and starts to stroll away and I almost pass out, I begin to stammer

"Mr Mercury I assure that your privacy and the privacy of everybody involved is crucial to me and I..."

„I find this a little hard to believe, considering you do the same like any fucking journalist. Dig around in others life's and take what you can get." he spits at me and turns his back on me.

Bracing up one last time, I start to answer him, as I hear John entering the conversation

"Freddie, calm down. Don't give that pure girl such a hard time."

Freddie disdainfully gazes at me one last time, before he enters the side room.

I can feel a hand on my shoulder, as I come back to reality. „He has his moods. Don't worry, in a view days he will be fine with it and won't cause any trouble." John is trying to calm me.

All I can manage is to nod like an idiot, still standing there, paralyzed from shock.

As I let my eyes wander around the room, Mr Beach stands behind me. He must have left the studio for our short encounter and came back at this disastrous moment.

„Ms Kurzmann, may I walk you out" he asks me politely. „I love to." I answer quickly, in a relieved voice. I just want get out of here. Somewhere far away from the predator, that just rent me.

John, Brian and Roger farewell me, cheering me up by telling me how they're looking forward, working with me.

„Don't worry about our little diva, Viv. He will calm down." Roger nudges me from the side.

„You'll see, he's not that bad." Brian encourages me calmly.

„Unless his shadow follows him." a joking Roger lets out.

„Shadow?" I can manage to ask, confusion washing over my now chalk white face.

„PAUL" they all shout, rolling their eyes in unison, before bursting out laughing.

As I want to dig deeper, Mr Beach interrupts us. „Ms Kurzmann..?" Turning towards him I notice,, he already stands besides the open door, waiting for me to follow him.

I turn to face the boys again. "See you in a view." I wink towards them, as I leave the room.

Disappointed, I couldn't take a closer look to the studio and the band working, I make my way out, following Mr. Beach.

A nice bunch of men, I think to myself, as we walk down the barren corridor, were it not for my new nemesis.

As I told you. Disaster.

Part 2 will follow soon.

Also published on wattpad:

[deadendkid4201]

Maybe I would have been better off if I had just ignored my parents and stayed outwest and maybe by now I would have been making some serious money and getting noticed but then again I probably would have been doing coke and shit all the time and probably wouldn't still be here chasing you...I've almost died several times sense you left all of our chances to figure this out are just flying by and it absolutely fucks me up if I had died that night I slashed my arm maybe you would have wished you'd changed your mind honestly even though I always dreamt of a glamorous music life I think i'm way better off living a simple one and I only want to live a simple life with you idc if it a white picket fence life I'd be happy living any life as long as I was by your side and ya your right girls wanted to date me like mikayla and shit but none of them could give me the love I needed none of them even knew how to love and I could tell I was just a highschool fling but you gave me that love I couldn't find and didn't even believe existed you always had it you've always been different and I don't believe for one second we are toxic and bad for each other.....I just wish I could make you see it to but it feels way to strongly i'm just gonna keep chasing and you're gonna keep running while yelling for me to not fall behind we both want each other you're tired of him and I get not wanting to return to me on a rebound but it wouldn't be that we might as well have been dating behind his back this whole damn time.....we are so much more then friends and it doesn't have to be this way....obviously I want you to make the choices that make you most happy but I always thought I would be one of them...otherwise....what am I even fighting for if not for your love because it's all I want you think we had to be apart so I could get the help I needed and in some ways you are right because you leaving forced me to grow up and change all my fucked up ways but we do not have to stay apart so that I continue to get the help I need and stuff you talk about nurturing me that wouldn't be the case anymore we don't need to be apart so that we can achieve our goals christine that is absolutely not true at all we do not have to be apart to grow we can help each other and push each other we have both grown....but I know I probably can't convince you of this truth I can be independent but it's absolute hell I WANT TO SPEND WHAT EVER LIFE IS LEFT IN ME WITH YOU EVEN IF IT MEANS GROWING OLD WHICH IS THE ONE THING I HAVE NEVER WANTED TO DO......I just don't know anymore idk what to do because I can't put you behind me and I don't want to and you don't seem to think we would be good for each other no matter what....and that hurts so much.....even after all this time and all the changes I've made and all the growing up I've done you still think we can't make it work...you give me all this hope you're gonna come back and we we be together and then turn around and say the complete opposite maybe I misunderstood but that is how it seemed anyway I just don't know what to do or say anymore because nothing ever seems to change...but I love you way to much to stop doing this i just can't fucking stop nor do I want you to

[docholligay]

Re: Imaginary Friends bc I can't reply for some reason - WOW this was amazing. Re: Imaginary Friends bc I can't reply for some reason - I'm so invested in Haruka and her family, I just want her to get to be happy! Would honestly love to see the Michiru POV I bet it's fascinating. I'm so worried about you everyone here, amazing job, great atmosphere!

Thank you so much! I might post the old Michiru POV fic to the patreon, if there’s any interest there. 

vassekocho said: This is sooooo good. I love Haruka’s inner voice, the small mistakes she makes, the ways she reminds herself she doesn’t belong (even if she clearly does). Mako and Mina cameos are great, I always enjoy seeing other girls in your AUs. The ending line sent chills down my spine, and as sudden as it is it’s also the perfect open ending to a horror story. Filing this away as one of my favorites.

Thank you! Haruka’s inner voice is really tough for me to write in, and this is by far the longest I’ve done it for, so it makes me so happy to know it worked for you

simplymindspace said: I shall most certainly post my thoughts on this when I have more time later today/nite. But just, DAMN DOC. JUST DAMN.

You’re the only one I can be this forward with BUT IF WORDS FAIL YOU A SKETCH IS FINE

skylineofspace said: I really love the way you build characters in your stories, by putting in details that are off from what one might think as the default of a situation, and then tying them together with a reveal. It works really well for both Haruka being adopted and for Michiru’s goal at the end.

 Thank you so much!! When I started this AU, a lot of my “stock” solutions for Haruka and Michiru didn’t quite work, so in some ways it was really challenging to make my own conceptions of character hold against this setup, especially when we CAN’T see what Michiru is thinking or feeling. But I think I like what I ended up with! 

Keyofjetwolf said: “and another half of my brain, the part that was the worst at math” ACTUAL LOL

THANK YOU I THOUGHT IT WAS PRETTY FUNNY

: MOUSE IS HERE TOOOOO (I now realize that Mouse has appeared a hell of a lot more than I realized, which I feel particularly daft about. STILL. MOUSE.)(Though maybe Ghost Mouse? I’m thinking very possibly. Did Michiru kill you, buddy?)

MOUSE ENDS UP A LOT OF PLACES ahaahah 

GHOST MICHIRU IS LONELY AND HAS WANTS AND DOESN’T REALLY CARE WHETHER YOU SHARE THEM HARUKA I love that you’ve made her dangerous.

I was just thinking about Michiru, and what if she’d spent a hundred years watching and waiting, and finally saw something she wanted? Something she craved. 

“She had the same look in her eyes, and they were even stranger in full color, like they’d seen everything, and wouldn’t tell you, they would just let you drown.” This is one of those lines you come across every now and then, where it’s just so fucking good you kind of want to scream. God.

THANK YOU SO MUCH I LIKED IT TOO

“She was talented and set to marry Mamoru Chiba” WELL I’D PROBABLY FLING MYSELF TOO HONEST

AHAHAH

“Of course we want to come to your giant palatial mansion, holy shit rich kid.” Mina was about as nice about this as usual. ANOTHER LOL

THANK

“Ow!” She threw off the sheet. “Oh my god, I’ve been hit by a popcorn ball but also inspiration. Let’s do some ouija board shit!” Oh my god Minako you fucking idiot, this is amazing, my anxiety just shot through the roof.

I AM SO GLAD. Horror and humor are the two hardest things to write, i think. 

The glass moved again, not waiting for a hand. C..A..T..G..O..T…Y…O…U..R..T…O…N..G…U…E..? –Michiru finally gets to speak and this is what she says. MICHIRU KAIOH YOU ARE DEAD BUT YOU SHOULD ALSO BE ASHAMED

MICHIRU PLS

Man, I have so many ouija board shit, this really sticks with me. I’m glad you went there.

I LOVE TO SCARE YOU SO SO AM I

“Mina’s right. I’ll go into the basement for a pretty girl.” I love this. LOVE this. That despite everything, despite KNOWING better, Haruka’s convinced herself on some level that Michiru’s not dangerous. And it’s such a stupid fucking thing to do, but Haruka – EVEN MORE HERE PERHAPS THAN USUAL – as a goddamn martyr complex and wants to save the fucking world and everyone in it. And she, too, is lonely, and wants to love and be loved, and she wants a girlfriend and god, she’s just SO UNSPEAKABLY STUPID about this, but so understandably, and I adore it so fucking much. If there were one genre that would be yours, I think we’d agree it would be horror. And I love how the person is much at the root of it. Haruka’s being haunted, but it’s her own nature that’s really doing her in here. Those are ideas that are always so present your horror stories, and it makes them just so delicious.

THANK YOU. Yes I feel like horror is personal, and this moment, that sentence, is the linchpin of what I think this is for Haruka. That she can’t leave it alone. Despite everything she knows about MIchiru she feels BAD. She feels like she can save her. And that strange goodness that Michiru, if we could hear her side, could barely understand, well, that just makes her bolder. 

“I don’t know what she wants. But I think it’s me.” WAIT THAT’S IT THAT CAN’T BE IT WHAT THE FUCK HOLLIGAY WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE F

AND YET

Shadowsarefriendstoo said: This is a fucking masterpiece. Those layers add a depth to this otherwise fairly simple storyline in a way that sent actual chills crawling down my arms. Not just in the…spoopy scenes if you will- but those tiny emotions mentioned, the parallel and that lingering sense of insanity are so seamlessly woven throughout the writing. Gah, I just love it. Haunting beyond Michiru’s ghost who was being really fucking extra and creepy as well. Good god, she’s dead and she’s still the more dominant of the two.

Thank you so much!! This means a lot to me, and thank you for reblogging it! 

[aquaeques]

Two small children dash into the bedroom, charging for their dad, tugging on his pants and urging him to hurry. Keith catches this when he walks in a moment later, holding a younger child against his chest. "I can't hold them any longer---they ' want to go trick-or-treating NOW, daddy.' "

( @lnstinctive ) 

he couldn’t help the burst of laughter from leaving his lips, immediately bending down to greet the two children, hands already reaching out to help fix whatever parts of their costume had gone askew in their haste.

         “okay, okay, we’re almost ready. can you wait a few more minutes? we gotta get daddy into his costume, too. wanna help?”

he threw his husband a grin as the two cheered, steering them to the bed where keith’s costume was laid out, before standing & extending his arms to take their youngest ( dressed aptly as a jack-o-lantern ) so keith could actually be free to change.

         he leaned over to give him a quick peck on his cheek, grin widening. “i wasn’t aware three little kids would be your undoing, cariño. did you manage to at least convince keith 2.0 to get ready?”

        “stop calling me that!” came a disgruntled voice from the doorway, a scowl — a pout, really — on their daughter’s face. “i’m not that much like dad!”

         “i dunno, kiddo, your pout kinda says otherwise.”

         “i’m not pouting!”

         “of course not.”

         “five minutes! i’m leaving you all behind if you’re not ready in five minutes!” lance laughed as she turned on her heel & stomped back to her room, dark hair flinging behind her with the over-dramatic flair any fifteen year old could accomplish. “stop laughing and get dad dressed already, papa! at least kuya’s ready!” 

lance turned to his husband, who was busy with the twins attempting to figure out how to help dress their father. a surge of affection & adoration bloomed in his chest, a wide, fond smile pulling at his lips as he stepped closer, one hand idly tapping his sleepy son’s back. he watched as the three of them fumbled with keith’s costume, only barely holding back another bark of laughter before he finally stepped in, allowing the twins to help as much as possible without being a hindrance.

& when keith — gorgeous, reckless, adorable, perfect keith — turned to him with such an exasperated, loving smile, lance couldn’t help but lean forward & pull his husband in for a kiss, pouring every bit of love & adoration into the simple action as he could, mindful of the child carefully cradled between them.

it isn’t until four varying voices ( “ew, dad!” & “gross, papa!” & “really? in front of my salad? get a room!” & “in front of the kids, seriously?” ) met his ears did he pull away, laughing at keith’s reaction, then toward this ragtag group of children he had come to foster & adopt with keith at his side.

he wouldn’t give up this family for the world.

               “who’s ready to go trick or treating?”