#and yeah maybe there's no ill intention in commenting that they think they saw you

[chelleisamazing]

Idk why but i get so annoyed when someone hits me up to tell me "hey I saw you in (a place)", and when I try to think about it i realize it couldn't have been me because I didnt even go out that day at all or something

[datastate]

(sending this as an ask because it got WAYY too long to be a reply whoops) i really like your opinions on the routes!! especially on the ais waugh…. i am planning on playing kanna's routes whenever i eventually replay this summer + i am excited to see what they entail…. but yeah overall i really like your thoughts and man do i need to replay yttd T_T it has been so long. (+ this is where the reply turned into a small ramble about qtaro because the autism) plus your comment about how the main games have gone + the qtaro thing. sorry i am ill about him. glad to see someone who understands his intent there because although i am not active in fandom ANYMORE i used to see so many people absolutely hating him for that (<- like obviously not the best way of going about things but he had intentions. okay?) (also i would like to make the comment of although in 8th grade i had intense hyperfixation on alice, ever since my first playthrough in 6th grade (HOW HAS IT BEEN THAT LONG?!) qtaro has + always will be my favorite sorry society….). i still remember when 3-1b came out + so many people were like "oh maybe qtaro is not deplorable" meanwhile i was over here #1 qtaro fan sobbing. sorry this is so long

(in response to this ask! also, for my own sake, i've broken up replying this into little sections :] <3 but i don't mind at all!!!)

REPLAYING YTTD

oho...!! i do think even a general replay (without seeing other routes) is really worthwhile to get a better feel for the characters & see how you can recontextualize things they're doing/have said at the time... i love combing through to see what nao and kai were up to in particular just before the main games <3

while i do think there was more that nankidai could've stood to do to differentiate the two routes particularly to make kanna & shin's separate routes feel like an actual choice, i do think that what small things are changed are still worthwhile & cool to see! i hope you enjoy your replay!!! :D

Q-TARO

YEAH exactly... i'm really sad that it's taken until his literal death to truly appreciate him as a character when more morally ambiguous characters like... well. shin, keiji, and even kai (though i'd honestly argue that most people don't see kai for who he is, you know; rather they place emphasis on his attractive appearance...) -- what they've done & how they behave are excused because they're, frankly, thin enough to care abt.

i've gone on about this before, so i won't linger much more than i need to, but i find it so strange that most people don't seem to recognize that - if not in the moment, i can understand that everyone's emotions are in a swirl. even the player's, but in chapter two when he says he felt a connection w kai - q-taro is autistic. and this definitely makes how he approached things in the first main game all the more understandable, personally... being so blunt about it when he'd settled on it being the clear solution, he even outright says that he doesn't want to see any of them just resign themselves right away to being voted out! & then we learn in ch3 as well that he's also experienced suicidal ideation which just lends so much more value to what he says...!! he doesn't want anyone to die, but certainly not with the belief that it's the only option they had. he wants them to at least have the chance to fight, just in case. and he's willing to hold himself to the same standard!

of course, first impressions mean a lot, but i feel like people saw this and completely missed the entirety of chapter 2 where he quickly warms up to gin afterward & even apologizes to sara for all she's had to deal with, despite it not being his fault, and expressing that he wishes there was something he could do even irt miley... he cares so much abt the kids within the group, even if it takes a lot of courage to support strangers when he knows he has other kids waiting at home for him... he still tries his damnedest, you know? i feel like there's something about that you have to respect. even when he's attempting to leave, you visibly see how conflicted he is about it & it's why sara can pick up on it so early, because he doesn't want to do this, it just feels like the only option... which. well. there's something to say about how gin's the one who's freely handing out tokens and yet q-taro goes to someone like sara first. someone who's been steadily pushed into the figurehead of the group, who is clearly strategic... versus someone who resembles the people q-taro's trying to get back to. hmmm. i sure wonder what the implications are here. (& i have a post for you. that you might enjoy... i've been meaning to write it for a while but i forget. but the idea is there.)

but. yeah... they didn't give him much room to grow in their mind after this point, which is so disappointing & definitely created a very toxic space. beyond that, it played into general southern stereotypes of him being the only homophobic/transphobic one, which i honestly often find treatment of to be in poor taste (it can be used well in stories, but you shouldn't just. throw bigotry on characters simply because you hate them...) -- but also just. blatantly untrue?

even just. everything about his treatment of people in general being so understanding once you explain something to him, or his desire to be a good person worthy of looking up to (which is why it doubly wrecks him when he sees himself become disabled/suicidal in the hospital, because he's become such a rotten person and he feels it and it's a terrible, terrible cycle) for the orphanage kids & to prove something to the parents who abandoned him that he's still worthy of being loved too... he believes in equivalent exchange in social dynamics, only ever giving out what you can take, just... in what world would he be so insensitive?

and this isn't even bringing up the fact that he has slightly longer than shoulder-length hair + nonetheless treats kai/mishima with a lot of respect and care even with them both generally being considered (physically, as well as in their demeanor) strange. combined with the fact that he relates to kai on the basis of being "lonely" rather than "loved" for what's unchangeable about them... there's so much there to read into. not just with autism or ptsd, but. gestures. transgenderism, being mixed, so on. things that sara had people to help support her with prior to the death game, or that she lacked altogether (if she's fully japanese)

but i digress! i'm glad that ch3-1 skirted some hatred toward him, but i definitely agree -- he's such a well-rounded characters even prior to that & it deserved to be acknowledged...!!

[practicalmagicintuitions]

Hi PMI! I think comments were turned off on your question about a Harry/ MM reading so I couldn't reply direct. NBC news in the US doesn't seem to be biting on this car chase story. They even went as far as interviewing the cab driver who picked them up from a police station and said there were a couple cars following but he didn't think it was anything at all. The news story was posted as "Car Chase?". Most people in the US don't care about them. I know for myself I was very supportive in the beginning when they announced they wanted to step away for their mental health. It was presented as we aren't going to be royal anymore and seemed they were going to attempt a quiet life outside of the public eye as much as they could. I thought good for them but they have done everything but be quiet. The NBC story commented on this as well. They have been very public since the exit. And what happened to not using the titles? It was in bold on a screen behind her head for the speech she gave. It's getting more and more ridiculous at this point. Anyway, with the news story scoffing at their car chase claims I would be curious how they feel about the American press not going in their favor? Or was it an intentional trick for monetary purposes or do they really believe their own story? I guess at least on harry's part. Is this mental illness, he's still playing out what happened to mom in his head even if that's not the reality before him or is he in on the manipulative side of things and using his mom's death as a launching point to make money? I hate to think so low of the guy but people do this all the time now so it's hard to discern when people are being genuine. They don't seem to have any kind of game plan though outside of pay us money for existing and showing up at public events. Basically, trying to be American royalty. Maybe this question is to personal for us to have permission to see but he's the one that claimed it was for mental health reasons and I supported him for that. I support anyone who says they are going to take a proactive step to removing something from their life that negatively impacts their mental health. But it just feels like they are intentionally engaging in these activities which makes ones empathy diminish. I see a reality TV show in the future.

Hi!

I cannot believe people still believe them. How? I went to Celebitchy for the comments but her stans are just the worst. One comment said they were British paps and they wanted to k*ll her just like they did with Diana. Seriously, this level of deranged mentality is not funny and very dangerous for everyone! Do we remember that she said "allegedly" that she is just a plane crash away from being Queen? This woman is sick.

It's very amazing that you were able to change your mind when you saw they don't want a quiet life and you questioned them. This is amazing. Unfortunately, many people feel if they change their minds or proven to be wrong that is the end of the world and don't see the opportunity to grow in it.

"And what happened to not using the titles?" Unfortunately, I think that was only about the HRH titles that they cannot use and marching the Sussex name. Do you remember their original plan was to sell Sussex merch, pens, socks and everything in the world? But yeah, this lifelong feminist is a nobody without her husband... She is indeed ridiculous but she and her minions don't care. They hate TBR but they cling to the title they give to her because of her marriage. Ladies and Gentlemen we are living in the Twilight Zone.

But no real organization or awards take her seriously. A few prominent people already said they would never work with her. They were not invited to the MET or the Oscars, no matter how they pushed this "We were invited but we are to famous, we don't want to distract..." I mean this woman was grinning in the middle of her "near fatal" car chase and I suppose to believe she passed on the MET gala? LOL.

Harry definitely has a serious mental illness, unsolved trauma but MM made it worse. On purpose. She is praying on this. Harry also has an ongoing security lawsuit in England so they needed a public event to prove they are not safe without security paid by the British taxpayers. Their arrogance is mindblowing. And the cherry on top is that they could recreate a Diana moment to draw parallels between her and them (MM).

"They don't seem to have any kind of game plan though outside of pay us money for existing and showing up at public events."

If you read, they (throughout Scoobie and Shola) demand a reaction, a statement from Buckingham Palace. That is their plan. Make BP react to everything. Anything. They have nothing without the BP connection meanwhile they are just thriving, living their lives as usual. I bet the new Wales media strategy made MM angry and annoyed.

"Basically, trying to be American royalty."

And this is the insane part because they could have been that. In my opinion, there is 2 type of American Royalty. One is the old money. Kennedy, Rockefeller, Vanderbilt etc, people you heard their names before but you don't really have an idea what they do, how they look because they are not for publicity. They already distanced themselves from MM.

The second type is the self-made, Hollywood, influencer types of "American royalty" who are very public, giving interviews, frequently photographed etc.

They already have this in Britain and they could have this in America, but they are greedy and stupid. MM wanted to rule a world, a society she knows nothing about. She made a laughing stock of herself. Catherine needed almost 20 years to achieve that. From a ridiculed middle-class girl to becoming the queen of British society. And just because she married the heir she didn't get this automatically. She needed to work hard for respect. And she is okay with this because she married for life to the man she loves deeply. She doesn't have to rush anything. MM on the other hand wants everything and wants it now. Because she doesn't love Harry, he is just a tool for her. That's why she will throw him away eventually.

[lake-archive]

Drabblecember Day 11 - Building A Snowman

Prompt List - Fling Posse Selfship / Yumeship Masterlist

Fandom: Hypnosis Mic

Characters: Dice Arisugawa, Ann Wolff (OC)

Pairing: Diceann (Dice/Ann)

Words: 600

If there is one thing worth trying with all this snow around it would be one thing coming to mind. Having had the view the streets of Shibuya offered right in his face Dice had a brilliant idea to spend the day! Not like he could hit up anything interesting at the time of the day. Besides, he had to get his mind off freezing his ass off here! And there was only one thing coming to his mind, especially when crossing paths with the very Missister themself! Oh how convenient, ain't it? That or Dice was just that lucky!

“Hey, maybe you want hand gloves?” They had asked him while witnessing the man rolling a massive snowball into shape with his bare hands. And it was freaking cold, no joke! But by now Dice's hands were numb to said cold thanks to exposure. “They'll start to hurt y'know.” He soon came to a standstill, the massive ball of snow right next to him as he turned to them, the usual grin forming. “Yo Ann, quit worryin’. Your boy got this!” He only responded, perhaps sounding a little too carefree. But that was nothing but the truth in his eyes!

It only made them roll their eyes instead, crossing their arms. The mouth may be covered by their own scarf yet the blank eyes said it all. He did not have to see how that mouth was moving. “This ‘your boy’ is about to have his hands fall off if he continues to play in the snow without gloves.” They countered, a little snappy and yet it had no ill intent hidden within. “Listen, maybe you should try getting something a little warmer at least. Or–” “Thanks for worrying but I know what I'm doing!” Dice interrupted ever so confidently.

It was a conversation the two had ever so often and while he appreciated the concern, Dice never saw a need. Ann's a worrywart incarnate lately. And it was putting a halt on all the fun. And they were clearly not pleased either. Just what would reassure them at this rate? Even at a time like this… “Well… As you said… You are still alive. “ They mumbled, loud enough for him to hear, only to let out a sigh shortly after. “Fair enough… Doesn't mean I like seeing it.” He only looked at them. “Ey, don't be a downer now.”

“Eh!? Downer!? I'm not!” They tried to insist, even puffing their cheeks, judging that the scarf became a little bloated. “Yeah you are. Building a snowman's supposed to be a fun time y'know! Relax a little more, will ya?” He commented. “Just try havin’ more fun. No need to be so serious all the time.” “Serious?” They asked, tilting their head, their eyes being utter confusion. Dice nodded. “Yeah. You gotta let a little more loose if ya ask me.” They were unable to respond, only staring with wide eyes. Were they finally thinking about it? He couldn't say but…

Before Ann could react Dice had suddenly grabbed one of their gloved hands. And while a quick pain had been going through his body he got over it.  “C'mon, the snow's not gonna lie here forever! Let's get to work, together!” He suggested as he dragged them to the giant ball, the foundation of the snowman. “Just like that!?” They asked, as if uncertain about something. “Yeah! It's not gonna build itself!” He responded, as if stating the obvious. It took a bit but they nodded in the end, even if meekly. “Fair enough. Let's build one together then… Heh~“

[saltminerising]

clearing up some natdom stuff

alright so quick disclaimer, I can't speak for the entire flight or the planning team for DtB, but as someone who's pretty involved in nature dominance efforts, I want to address some of the comments that ppl have brought up. also this isn't intended to be an attack on either nature flight members or earth flight members, this is really just me summing up my own thoughts.

I think most of the critiques so far have been very fair and understandable, and I've had my own share of frustrations with the way events were run this year. sorry folks, buckle up because this is a long ass post.

Discourse Related Stuff

1) regarding the one FRD thread about "noo guys earth is the grinch that stole christmas", as far as I could tell the original post was made in a lighthearted manner and I doubt it was made in genuine bad faith. To be fair, some of the comments do seem a bit petty, but the vast majority of natdom members I've talked to have been very chill about the whole ordeal. In fact, most of the comments that seemed to have rubbed people the wrong way were probably made by nature flight members who have had less experience with dominance. Yeah I get that it can be frustrating to feel like your flight's being accused of stealing dominance, but cut people some slack, not everyone's intention is to blame your flight, sometimes people who don't have the whole picture misunderstand the situation and comment stuff. (response to this post and this post)

2) regarding the DtB raffle update regarding extra tickets offered during frigidfin expedition, yeah I'm not going to lie, that probably could've been worded better by the organizers. I totally see where you guys are coming from. I think the intention was to incentivize stuff, but sort of implying that earth stole dom from you is probably not a great way to go about convincing people to help you. (response to this post)

3) also yeah not to be the devil's advocate or anything but just the way dominance works on fr means that earth exalting more dragons than usual usually bumps them up to first place. that's just how it works. if arcane flight was the smallest flight, the same would be true for arcane. it's not really fair to blame an entire flight for being small, and i don't think anyone is blaming earth for wanting to get money during frigidfin, but like yeah it can kind of be demoralizing to have pretty much the de-facto FR dom powerhouse flip you during a solo conquest, because that usually means that if Earth really wanted to, they could beat you without breaking a sweat. (response to this post and this post)

DtB Raffle Related Stuff

1) Some "confidential" behind the scenes information fresh from the Natdom planning discord, I will say that the whole raffle tickets addition thing was a pretty last-minute fix for a problem that we didn't expect. thanks OP for being understanding. (response to this post)

2) yeah also ngl, if I were an OOF person who wanted to participate in DtB and then saw that there was NO exalt payout for sending dragons, I would turn around and nope the fuck out, even if the badges were pretty. I totally get that. I want my dragon cash. in the future, one potential fix for this would be to just have the DtB badges available as a randomized extra you get for sending dragons into the raffle or the PB. Something to track on a personal spreadsheet like the randomized badges that Ice did for IvW years ago. maybe next year, I guess. (response to this post and this post)

TL;DR

Earth flight wants to make money (like any other flight does). It'd be illogical to fault an entire flight for wanting to exalt dragons for treasure during an exp bonus season. For people who are genuinely upset over the board flips during the week, because that the way FR dom works, Earth just has a slight game mechanic advantage, and that there were no ill-intentions or "evil Earth flight trying to steal dominance."  It's just how the game works lol. 

Nature flight wants to celebrate DtB, which has been a pretty longstanding tradition for Natdom. The shift from a fundraiser profit push to a conquest push is new this year, so adjusting the old badge-buying framework to a conquest push style has had its fair share of issues. Understandably, there was a bit of confusion and frustration within the flight regarding the board flips, but I genuinely don't think the majority of Natdom felt "entitled" to a win and "didn't want to work for it," it's moreso just no one expected frigidfin to fall during DtB, and the way DtB is structured really isn't a straightforward conquest push (which honestly should've been changed for this year but it is what it is.)

the tl;dr for the tl;dr

bro fr dominance just wacky like that lol. the wonders of miscommunication really do form the basis of epic drama and tea, but DtB is over. i'm just gonna pack it up and go home until the next push happens. 

also saltmins, if my links break i will throw fists. links in order if they break

1a) https://saltminerising.tumblr.com/post/703295074096807936/man-i-dont-even-think-the-nature-dom-post-read-as

1b) https://saltminerising.tumblr.com/post/703267464621981696/as-im-active-in-dom-and-in-earth-i-was-gonna-try

2) https://saltminerising.tumblr.com/post/703235930288488448/the-tone-nature-dom-used-in-their-post-about-how

3a) https://saltminerising.tumblr.com/post/703334083950952448/posted-p-much-the-same-thing-abt-the-earth-stole

3b) https://saltminerising.tumblr.com/post/703332820450525184/to-the-person-here-complaining-about-how-earth

1) https://saltminerising.tumblr.com/post/703335359972573184/why-are-people-calling-nature-entitled-when

2a) https://saltminerising.tumblr.com/post/703350533141004288/the-problem-wasnt-just-the-joke-though

2b) https://saltminerising.tumblr.com/post/703325260566675456/yeah-the-nature-thing-comes-across-as-so-entitled

[jiffygis]

[SILHOUETTE] John Doe X Reader. Chapter 5 (PT. 1)

Notes: this chapter has some mentions of vulture culture and vomit.

-Damn it Lucas, what the hell is this??!- you said dropping the small jar he handed over to you. Surprised and startled, he quickly grabbed it before it touched the floor. -Y/N be careful!... Dude this costed me a fucking rib and an eye, do you know how hard it was??-.

The order you had made a few nights ago was ready. A protection charm... But this is definitely not what you wanted. Inside of the jar, submerged in a strange liquid surrounded by whatever the hell those things were, maybe plants or something, was a cat eye. You knew about vulture culture and even indulged a bit in it, but it took you by surprise and uneasiness, because you didn't know how this poor creature was obtained. You felt sick.

Almost as if he could read your mind, he looked at you and started speaking. -Look I know you really care about animals so I assure you, he was already sick and died naturally. You know I never sacrifice animals for my spells- he explained. Hearing the explanation put you at ease. You trusted him, and trusted his morals. He would never actually hurt an animal for the sake of a spell, he respected nature.

You stared at him, then at the jar and sighed, -yeah, you're right... Sorry I almost dropped it-. He handed it back over to you, this time you took it carefully into your hands. You still felt uneasy, however, because a small part of you wanted to believe that what he was saying wasn't true, but that's just a stupid intrusive thought, he was no liar.

-...why the cat eye tho?- you curiously asked while putting the jar at the height of your eye to see it closely. It was a blue eye, you could just imagine how beautiful this colour would've looked... If it was still in the cat's socket, that is.

Lucas began to explain, -cats have a special sixth sense, which allows them to sense and warn you about supernatural beings. Not only that, but they can detect negative forces that endanger your balance and well-being-. You nodded your head, taking in the information. -I could've just got a cat then...- -that is an option, yes but I made this jar for you because I know it will help you more than a cat.- he calmly explained. You just nodded your head.

-(y/n) I swear to god if you don't take that shit off of my face I'll throw it outside the window- Faye said, eyes not leaving the road as she drove you both to her house. -Hey don't be rude, I'm just showing you...- you said, putting you jar back between your legs while you kept on staring at it. She had just picked you up from the bazar, turns out she was close and offered you a ride. After a moment of silence, almost as if she was thinking about her words, Faye began to speak, -Look, you know I know you always take the best decisions for yourself... but I think carrying that around is a bit too much. If you don't feel safe, maybe I can spend more time with you, buy pepper spray or something but don't carry around that- you knew what she meant. She didn't like the jar Lucas had made for you, she felt uneasy with you carrying around that thing but after all, she wasn't the one carrying it, she didn't even have to look at it if she didn't want to. You didn't answer to that comment.

Faye wasn't the spiritual type. Sure, she believed in what she saw and what she was told about, if shown proof, but she wasn't the type to believe in spells and magic and stuff. In her mind, even ghosts made more sense than that.

She sensed the silence that followed. Had she been rude? She didn't say anything with ill intent, in fact she just wanted to help you out in a more direct way. -... but hey (y/n), if the jar makes you feel more at ease, maybe you should keep holding onto it- she said, smiling at you. You smiled back.

You've always been particularly good with places. You didn't know the names of the streets but you could point where you were in a map, so you noticed very quickly, that the turn Faye had just taken wasn't the one that lead to her house. You weren't freaked out, you weren't scared, but you were pretty confused so you decided to ask, -Faye? Where are we going?-, it took her a bit of thinking before she calmly answered to your question -I think that you've been too stressed these days. Just last week you claimed your boss had fired you when she hadn't even talked to you and now you're carrying a cat eye...- she sighed before continuing, -a friend of mine is having a party at his house right now. It's gonna be chill, nothing too extra so don't worry, but I want you to get there and just have fun, you know? Maybe get out of your mind for a bit.- This made you tense, you hadn't planned on this, in fact you already had a date with the oh so comfortable couch and chewing ice while watching horror videos or something in Faye's house. You wanted to watch "top 10" videos or that kind of crap, not this. -Faye... I don't know, I'm not sure I wanna talk to anyone else but you right now. Maybe we can go to a party tomorrow?- -dude do you think I get invited to parties everyday? Come on- she said, extending the "on", -It'll be fun! And if you don't feel comfortable, we'll go to my house and have a sleep over, just you and me. What do you say?- ... oh how could you say no to those puppy eyes? -how can I say no to those puppy eyes? Fine, we'll go.- you said, letting her win this time. She smiled in triumph.

You regretted this, you regretted listening to Faye and coming here. The party started just like she promised, there weren't many people and it was all calm, but after a good 30 minutes or so the party started to get bigger. More cars started to park in front of the house, more people with drinks started to arrive and you kind of just sat there, with a beer in your hand as you saw others dancing.

The beer tasted horrible and you were too akward to go dance, no one was happy with this, but going to Faye wasn't an option. Sure, she had told you to tell her the minute you wanted to leave, but you saw her there, surrounded by people and looking like she was having the most fun she had had in weeks. No sleepover with you would have her like this, no sleepover with you would be as fun as this was for her. You didn't feel bad or sad, you just felt lame that you weren't having as much fun as the others.

Of course you knew the implications of parties this big, so people talking to you didn't bother you at this point, and when the second guy in the night approached you, you already had your internal monologue ready. -hey! Do you wanna dance?- he asked, sitting dow beside you, -no thanks, I'm here with a friend- you said politely. -who? Maybe I know the person- he asked. Without thinking it twice, you just let your mouth run, -I'm with Faye- you said, turning up your voice volume so he could hear you well. -oh I know her, she's friends with the owner of this house. But I haven't seen her around you since you arrived- -well for how long have you been watching us?- you asked in a genuine tone, -long enough to notice you haven't been having fun.- you laughed at this, he was right. -beer sucks and I can't dance - you explained, -beer isn't the best choice, you can make yourself a drink, there's vodka, whisky and soda, so you can mix it- he said, pointing at the drinks table. -here, I'll teach you-, he stood up and turned to look at you. You sat there for a second, at that moment, the moment he stood up and turned to you, you felt a chill run up your spine, but it wasn't caused by the man in front of you. You looked around, nothing seemed out of place, everyone was having fun in their own world. Then why did it feel like a hundred eyes were looking at you? Burning on you and your every move. Something told you to sit there, stay there and ignore the man. Not for your own good, but for his.

The hesitance made him unsure, but just as he was about to open his mouth, well...

Fuck it, you were allowed to have fun too, enough with being miserable in the corner. You stood up and smiled at him, -sure, let's go-.

You started with a simple drink as he explained to you why you shouldn't mix alcohols, and just stick to one if you didn't wanna end up on the floor. You were on your third drink now, not enough to get you drunk but enough to give you confidence to start dancing with people. The man you were with laughed at this, how you started shyly sitting in a chair eager to leave and now you were having fun without a worry in the world, it was fun watching you unfold with confidence and turn into a different version of yourself.

He, however, didn't find it funny at all that some jackass was keeping an eye on you. You crearly didn't want to be there, and getting you drunk wasn't for you to have fun, it was for his own benefit. You were smarter than this, so he was surprised when he saw you standing up to go with that man. Oh you didn't have to fit in, you didn't have to go and pretend to be someone you're not and talk with people who didn't even deserve for you to look at. But that's why he was here for, for you, just waiting for the right moment.

Thank god Faye made you go out. You loved her for this, you could go and kiss her right now, in fact where was she?. You hadn't had this much fun in ages! And everyone was being so nice to you. Turns out it wasn't that bad, you were just overthinking stuff. Sure, watching true crime in your best friend's house sounded like a blast, but this? This was by far better than that.

The alcohol had gotten into your brain not too long ago, and you were a completely different person by the time the house was full of guests. You lost sight of Faye, the last time you saw her was when you went up to her and showed her your new friend, whom she already knew, Lucian. All she said was "you're in good hands" before going back to her own thing.

Right now you were learning how to play cups while Lucian was teaching you. -so wherever the ball lands, I have to drink the cup?- you asked, -exactly, now try to throw the ball just how I taught you- he said, placing a small pong ball in your hand. You threw it, the ball hit the border of a cup and flew away from them. Damn you were bad at this. -Don't worry, it takes practice- he said, before placing himself in front of the table and throwing his shot. You let him be, you needed a break.

You sat down, watching as he did his own thing. You were starting to get dizzy, and it was difficult to stand up straight, damn it you shouldn't have mixed alcohols just like Lucian told you...

Everything was starting to become a background noise, and suddenly you grew quiet in order to not babble nonsense. You needed to pee, really bad. You didn't know where the bathroom was but you would figure it out on the way... If you could walk without falling in the first place. You needed Faye, you didn't know for what but you needed her, so you started calling out for her with no answer but weirded out looks.

You couldn't help yourself for too long, and soon you fell to the floor, resting your back in the wall. You were peeing yourself, and not in the figurative way, you could literally feel small drops of pee coming out as your drunk self was desperately trying to hold it in. God you looked so pathetic. Your dress was now wet from when you were trying to pour yourself water earlier but you kept missing the cup, your eyelids were fighting to stay open and you must smell like pee at this point. You couldn't even stand up or even sit down straight anymore. You just hoped people wouldn't look down on you and just ignore you at this point.

...

You had to puke.

Fuck why couldn't your body work with you for once? Now you actually needed to get to a bathroom before you emptied yourself in some random person's wooden floor. You swore this was the last time you would ever listen to Faye. Ok, you can do this, at the count of three. One, Two... -you need any help?- said a familiar high pitched voice in a low, almost worried tone. As you looked up and locked eyes with him, you felt like crying, "god I hope I die and get swallowed by dirt"; alas, you didn't die and get swallowed by earth during those 4 seconds of silence. "Fuck you, God" you thought, as if this was actually anyone else's fault and not yours and your dumbass.

Doe carefully helped you up while you just spluttered apologies.

-I'm so sorry you have to see me like this- -It's no problem, really. I don't mind- he answered. That was a lie, of course it bothered him seeing you like this, in such a bad condition.

He helped you to the bathroom, waited for you outside as he heard you spilling your guts from the other side of the door. You hated this, but not as much as he did, he hated seeing you sick and in discomfort.

He offered you help, you instantly refused saying you could handle this. You couldn't, you preferred to die than to keep feeling this shitty, you just didn't want him to keep an image of you like this in his head; sitting in the bathroom in order to not pee yourself while holding the trashcan in your arms to puke, you must look disgusting.

A few minutes passed before you came out of the bathroom, Doe was still waiting for you as he turned to look at you. You looked back at him,

-I know this is too much to ask, but do you think you could take me home?-

[pastorsperspective]

Red, Brown, Yellow, Black, and White...

...We are precious in his sight. Jesus loves the little children of the world.

Hello there! I want to apologize for the big gap in blog posts. We had a couple weeks where we had technical difficulties and the sermons were not aired; followed by a few weeks of illnesses. However, we are back and looking forward to diving into Sunday’s sermon with you! If you missed it, the most current sermon on 10/16/22 was titled “The Black Notes” and the scripture reference was Genesis 9:18-27. You can watch it here: https://fb.watch/gixoVZiIUU/

I had some trepidation about dissecting this week’s sermon. I believe it to be a genuine and heartfelt plea to the church to look at ourselves and the company we keep, and to make a conscious decision to not let words or acts of racism go unchecked. As is my tendency to do, I immediately think about the possibility for offending people. Offence is just the reality of the world we live in and I, personally, fear offending people because it is never my intention. I think about things from all angles and my first thoughts were of all the landmines a person can step in when we start preaching about racism. When I sat down with Pastor Chad to discuss the sermon, I confessed just that.

No matter how heartfelt and genuine your points are, there will always be someone who questions the validity of a young white pastor, in small town rural south, leading a predominately white congregation, preaching on racism. What would you say to them?

Preemptively, here is something I found very empowering in seminary about this topic. I had a really powerful preaching professor and he said to find a quote that you tell yourself when you go to preach that message that you just don’t want to, but yet God won’t let you not. The quote that I tell myself in John Wesley’s journals, or maybe it was Charles I don’t remember exactly which one. John had just come back from a trip, like a revival kind of trip, and Charles asked him, “Was it a Holy gathering of Saints to the glory of God?” John Wesley’s comment was, “No, but it was a Holy exodus of those that have no business claiming to be Christian.” I think about that and I think that’s not something I would brag about, but at times I just feel very empowered by that. Sometimes, ticking somebody off or upsetting somebody is ok. Especially when it comes to matters of the soul. So, what do I say to them? If I don’t, who’s going to preach that to this congregation? That’s why I tried to be very vulnerable in the sermon and say that look, even I have dealt with this and have been in the position to where I have found myself having racial thoughts and feeling very uncomfortable with that. I wanted to say it’s not easy, we all deal with this to some degree somehow, someway. That’s where the conversation has to begin. We all struggle with this, I do, too, that doesn’t mean we don’t talk about it. If I don’t, who’s going to? Isn’t that just what Satan wants is for us to just hush about this?

Yeah, I agree but I sit on the fence a little bit about that. I saw an interview with Morgan Freeman once in which he was being asked by a white anchorman what he thought of black history month. Morgan said, “it’s ridiculous”. The anchor was a little perplexed and said, “You think black history month is ridiculous?” Morgan asked, “When’s white history month?” The anchor responded, “Well, I’m Jewish” and Morgan asked, “When’s Jewish history month?” He answered, “We don’t have one.” Morgan asked, “Do you want one?” and he responded, “No.” Morgan said, “Exactly. I don’t want one either.” Then the anchor asked him, “Then how do we stop racism?” Morgan answered, “We stop talking about it. I’m going to stop calling you a white man, and I’m going to ask you to stop calling me a black man.” That really struck a chord with me because he has a lifetime of first-hand experience with racism as he’s an older gentleman who lived through the Civil Rights Movement. His point of view is extremely relevant. He’s saying we need to stop talking about it and that makes some sense, but on the other side of that fence when you stop talking about it and people stop communicating, you don’t learn, you don’t grow, you don’t fix problems, you just don’t talk about them. Which might keep things at bay, but it doesn’t really solve anything either.

I think there’s a difference in what Morgan’s saying in how we’ve normalized things, and a difference in calling things out. Because I don’t think Morgan would say that we should never call out the injustices of the world. I agree with Morgan. I think we have normalized some things. Like giving minority groups their little box and their little moments where we say, “Hey, we recognize you.” And I think if we would just treat people as people across the board, then I agree we wouldn’t need the sermon that I had to preach. So, I do see what he means.

The conversations are important. Growing up no one ever had a conversation with me about race. I went to a city school, as did my son when he was little, there was plenty of visual representation and in classroom teaching to remind you that there are other people besides just you on the planet. We moved to a much smaller place and there was less diversity, less visual reminders to think outside of yourself and your bubble. You have to have those conversations, especially with your kids. This is where I struggle with this because the only relatable thing that I can equate it to is Women’s Suffrage. It’ll make sense in a minute, I promise. I’m sure you know a lot of women. I’m also sure that you know women who would be utterly offended if you held a door for them. Because they are not incapable of opening the door for themselves and will be sure to tell you so. However, I’m sure you know other women who would let you know really quickly that your Mamma didn’t raise you right and you have no manners because you didn’t hold the door for them. I have several black friends and have had in the past, experiences where I came to someone’s defense and they unleashed on me how they didn’t need me to stick up for them and didn’t need a “white defense”. Of course, the flip side of that would have been having to live with myself if I had been in the same situation and didn’t say anything. So, the problem for me is knowing, where is the line? I’m not trying to offer my “white defense”, I just wanted to call out the wrong. It’s a major part of the reason why I get so afraid to say anything to anyone about anything to not step in the landmines.

I didn’t have time to expand on the story I was telling in my sermon, but I stood up for my friend eventually. I ended up saying, “Look, I have black friends. I’m not going to be a part of this, this is ridiculous how you act.” And I did that with my African American friend with me and they kind of started to say the same thing of, I didn’t need you to do that. But my response was, “Don’t see it as, I, the white guy, stood up for my little black friend. I get why you would be offended if I had done that. I stood up and said something because it’s wrong across the board. I was raised if you see something wrong, you stand up and say something. I didn’t do it because you’re black, I did it because it was just wrong, period. I think when circumstances happen like that, it can come across a certain way and I think it’s fair to be asked, what was your intention? If you’re defending me because of my color, is that really equality? Or, are you just calling out an injustice because it’s an injustice?

Exactly. That makes perfect sense. Both parties have to be willing to set aside the potential offence first though, in order to get to that clarification of intent. We did have an outside question this week regarding the curse of Ham and this person wrote to me and asked, “Why did Noah curse Ham? Ham saw Noah naked. I don’t think he set out to see his dad naked, but yet this accident supposedly caused Ham to be cursed."

I agree with whoever asked this because it speaks to the absurdity of that interpretation. To be honest if I had to read in a word into that scripture, it would be Noah was embarrassed, and cursed Ham. I think it came from a place of embarrassment. Contextually, at that time, generational curses were a thing. It’s like if I were to say, “You know what? I’m so sick of pumpkins and your office is full of them! I curse thee and your family for the next eight generations.!” It doesn’t mean anything, it’s not going to do anything to the generations, right? Generational curses are a thing of the past, it didn’t hold any weight, or do anything. Unless it was upheld by society and you were outcast for being cursed.

Part two of the same person’s question, “You also mentioned, when talking about the black keys on the piano, that we should be grateful for what different cultures bring; but do you think some Christians are so set in their traditions that they won’t allow other cultures to bring new ways of worship or service to God? But maybe that’s another sermon.”

Yes, it is another sermon! There’s a quote that I love from a book I was reading that says, “The church of the future will be the church that can embrace the multitude of cultures that are around them.” I agree. I think the church is declining, I’m not going to say dying, declining. I think when we can find ways to come together, interculturally, then the church will see a rise and become thriving again. I agree with what this person is saying. Does the church do it? Not very well from my experience. Can the church do it? Absolutely. You never want to say that God and The Holy Spirit can’t do something, they absolutely can do anything.

Absolutely. I think the reason that we don’t see a lot of the multicultural is because people to don’t like to be uncomfortable and when they disagree or don’t understand this one thing that’s happening, they leave. It’s easy to find another church. If you don’t like something you just leave. In every denomination there are so many offshoots from people splitting off and starting their own church because they didn’t agree with something. Every single denomination. Wouldn’t it be glorious if we could all just be The Church?

I once saw a Pastor get up in front of his non-denominational church and give a very, very challenging message. I thought he would say ‘Amen’ and that would be the end of the sermon. But what happened was his church got out of their seats and came up to rally around him and lay hands on him. They prayed over him and uplifted him and he had just called himself and them out in so many different ways. I remember thinking, “Wow! They get it!” That they can hear a challenging message and instead of getting ticked off and leaving, they could step back and say, “That man just said something and God spoke so profoundly through it that it challenged and convicted me, and for that, I should rejoice.” If we can ever get there, as a broader Christian community, to where we embrace having our toes stepped on, then I think we would really be headed in the right direction.

Readers, think about that for a minute. I agree. We need to get comfortable with being uncomfortable sometimes. There was a lot more that was discussed during this sermon interview, but I had to trim for the sake of your time and the amount of pages it was going to take to express the thoughts. I am going to leave you with a clip of that interview with Morgan Freeman for you to think about for yourself, how do we stop racism?

[messers-moony]

Moony Wants, Moony Gets | R.L

Paring: Young!Remus Lupin X Slytherin!Fem!Reader

Summary: Moony has a natural wanting for his mate making his possessiveness visible the closer it gets to the full moon. 

He was always jealous. Blame it on the wolf in him, if you will, but Remus Lupin was highly possessive. Especially over what’s his - maybe not even what’s his but what he wants. She was gorgeous and his perfect mate—long tuffs of h/c hair and gleaming e/c eyes that glittered in the limelight. There was one problem with her, though—one major flaw in her mess of perfection. 

Y/n L/n, cunning, ambitious, resourceful, and charismatic. 

That was the problem. Y/n was a Slytherin, and Remus was a half-blood Gryffindor. To make matters worse, her closest friend was Regulus Black - Sirius Blacks brother. Remus’ best friend's brother. But Remus couldn’t help it. Her voice was like a siren's call, and her beauty was a rival to Aphrodite, but she had the wisdom of Athena. Y/n was a perfect balance of everything. 

Closer to the full moon, his possessiveness became more of a problem. Sirius was noticing the low growl that would erupt from Remus whenever someone stepped close to Y/n. James saw the lingering glares left on any male within a six feet distance of her. Even Peter observed his green eyes turn a shade darker as if someone mixed black paint into his usually bright eyes. 

Y/n sat at the Slytherin table, a cup of coffee beside her as she spoke intently with Regulus. Meanwhile, a Gryffindor across the Great Hall was glaring daggers at the younger Black brother's head. Sirius nudged him, grabbing his attention. 

“Mate, you’re growling again.” Sirius whispered, and Remus’ cheeks turned pink, “Am not.”

James gave an unconvincing grin, “Mhm, totally.”

“I was not growling.”

“I think you were.” James replied, “Definitely was.” Sirius added. 

Remus sighed, pushing his plate away to lay his head on the table, “What’s got Moony all wound up?” James queried, Remus, deadpanned looking at the laughing girl across the room. 

“I think I know.” Sirius simpered, “Do you now? Don’t be a tosser.” James stated teasingly. 

“Turn around. Slytherin, talking with Reggie.” 

He turned and looked back at Remus with his jaw dropped, “No- fucking- way.”

“What?”

“She’s the captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team, you tosser!” 

“Oh…”

James snorted, “Yeah, oh.”

“Looks like Moony found his mate.” Sirius winked, and Remus groaned, “Shut up about it, will you?”

“Never.” 

It felt weird. James wouldn’t shut up about how brilliant Y/n was, how the Slytherin’s Quidditch team was able to make plays that no one else would’ve even thought about. Sirius wouldn’t stop offering to talk to Regulus to see if maybe he had any intel on her. Strangely enough, Peter was silent but had a guilty look on his face. Guilty sufficient for Remus to comment. 

“Why do you look guilty, Wormtail?” Remus inquired, and Peter's cheeks flushed pink, “She- Y/n isn’t- um….” 

“What do you know that we don’t, Peter?” Sirius queried, his voice harsh, “She isn’t what you think. That’s all I’m saying.” Peter stammered out nervously. 

James tilted his head at the blue-eyed boy, “And you know this how?” 

“She’s my ex-girlfriend.”

“Woah! Hold on a second!” Sirius exclaimed in shock, “When did this happen?!”

“Back in fourth year.” Peter informed, “She seemed nice enough until you start to get serious with her. Y/n’s sharp-tongued and extremely ill-tempered.” 

Sirius sniggered, “Sounds like Moony.”

“Oi!”

“Sorry!”

“So, what does this mean for Remus?” James questioned further, “It doesn’t mean anything. Just be careful. I don’t care if you date her. Means nothing to me.” Peter replied, putting his hands up in innocent. 

Remus stared at Peter with curiosity swirling. How much did he truly know about Y/n? How did he manage to date her? Nonetheless, it didn’t mean anything to Remus because Moony wanted her. What Moony wants is what Moony gets. Later that evening, after prefect patrol, he padded into the library to dismiss any working students. But there were only two students inside. They sat in a secluded corner of the library. Regulus Black and Y/n L/n. 

Was it envy? Was it jealousy? He didn’t have time to ponder. Y/n had her head laid on Regulus’ shoulder and both her arms wrapped around his one arm. Regulus had leaned his head on top of hers, wavy black hair intertwined with her h/c hair. Both their eyes were closed, apparent they were asleep—potion and Transfiguration books placed on top of the wooden table along with an open sketchbook. 

What was he supposed to do in this situation? Wake them up? If it was just Y/n, perhaps he could’ve, but Regulus was with her, and Regulus wasn’t too fond of Remus for being friends with his older brother. Madam Pince had already left for the night, either choosing not to disturb them or didn’t notice them. Remus saw the inkpot beside the Potions book, almost empty. It was Y/n’s inkpot because the ink wasn’t black. It was a deep grape color. 

Remus sighed and grabbed the ink from his bag, charming it the same color. Discretely he took hers and swapped it out with his. Leaving a piece of parchment on top. Remus left the library without another word. Waking them up was a risk he’d rather not take. But now, he laid in his bed wondering how she’d feel about the new ink on the table. 

The sun began to rise, and Y/n’s body felt stiff. Carefully she began to stir awake after noticing a body beside her. Opening her eyes, everything seemed blurry, but after blinking a few times, she recognized the library books and the person's scent beside her. Regulus, her best friend. Y/n yawned and pulled away from him, about to begin packing their belongings, but she noticed a piece of parchment that lay on top of her ink. 

“Noticed you were out. You can have mine.“ 

Y/n hummed appreciatively. She didn’t know who gave her their ink, but she was eternally grateful for them saving her a trip to Hogsmeade. Y/n poked at Regulus’ right side, and he eventually stirred awake. His curls disheveled and his body just as stiff as she was. Regulus opened his eyes and met her e/c ones. 

“Did we fall asleep?” He groaned, and Y/n scoffed, “What do you think, dingus?”

“No need to be mean this early in the morning, Merlin.” 

“Someone saw us last night, though.” Y/n stated, and Regulus noticeably jumped, “Who?”

She shrugged, “Not sure, but they left me a new pot of ink.”

“Lucky you.”

“Lucky me.”

Both best friends cleared their table. Y/n put her Potions books away, and Regulus put his Transfiguration books away. Y/n stared at the writing on the parchment she had received earlier that day. The handwriting was almost unrecognizable. It was messy and sprawled. Whoever this was did not have good handwriting or was in a rush. But the day carried on. In Potions, Y/n sat in the front while the Marauders sat in the back. Remus stared holes in the back of Y/n’s head. 

“She’s gonna notice if you keep staring at her like that.” Sirius muttered. 

Remus sighed and continued to write his notes. If he tried hard enough, he could make out her elegant purple ink from here. It always baffled him why she chose purple over traditional black - suppose it wasn’t really any of his business, but he couldn’t help but wonder. The familiar sketchbook sat on top of the desk as well; he could see doodles in the same deep purple color. Occasionally Regulus - who sat beside her - would nudge her to pay attention, gaining an annoyed groan. 

Potions class always smelt weird. It was a mixture of glue, seaweed, and salt. It was also constantly humid. It brought shivers down Remus’ spine. He noticed it doing the same to the Slytherin girl at the front. Remus craved nothing more than to wrap his robe around her, but he was too late. Regulus was already doing the action, which earned him one of her jaw-dropping smiles. Unconsciously he began growling again. This time, James smacked his arm. 

“Mate!” 

“Sorry…” 

Dinner was even worse. Y/n had yet to remove Regulus’ robes leaving him in a button-down white shirt and the usual uniform. Sirius was surprised at his younger brother's chivalry but didn’t speak much. The full moon was that night, and as dinner progressed, Remus only gained more possessive. James and Sirius gave up on trying to scold him. It was apparent Moony wanted - no - needed her. Slytherin captain be damned, Y/n was going to be Moonys. 

A dry winter night. As usual, Remus walked to the Whomping Willow with his three friends following him. Tonight was normal in the sense of his friends turning into their animagus,’ but the odd thing was letting him out of the shack. The werewolf and the dog ran around the forest together. The rat and stag lagging behind, allowing the two animals to play together. But a stick-breaking brought the attention of the werewolves to the new person. 

He could smell them. Hear their blood running through their veins. Their heart pounding at a standard rate. The dogs barking could be heard, trying to distract the werewolf. The scent was female, and she wasn’t scared. Instead, the girl approached with confidence sticking out her hand to the wolf. Padfoot barked loudly. Prongs backed down, looking nervous. Wormtail squeaked loudly. But she came with confidence and assurance. 

Moony growled, “Shh, shh, it’s okay.” She cooed, “You’re safe with me.”

The h/c haired girl knelt on the grass, “No need to be scared, I’m not going to hurt you.”

Moony hesitantly put his snout in the girl's palm, making her grin. His fur was soft to the touch, and his eyes turned soft. Her smile was beautiful, and Moony nuzzled his hand into her soft palm. She chuckled and patted him more. Padfoot barked excitedly and ran to her, but the werewolf started to bare his teeth again. 

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m yours.” 

The wolf seemed to calm down at her words allowing Padfoot to approach her. Smiling brightly, she pet both animals, “It’s okay, love.”

“My name’s Y/n. I didn’t know that there was a werewolf here.” Y/n greeted as Moony curled up beside her, his head on her thigh, Padfoot doing the same on the other side.

She caught sight of the other two animals and whistled for their attention, “C’mere.”

Prongs and Wormtail approached nervously, but Moony gave no sense of protectiveness. Y/n’s words resonated in his head over and over again, “I’m yours.” The wolf fell asleep beside her, Padfoot doing the same. Prongs approached, and Y/n patted the top of his head. Wormtail sat in front of her knee. They seemed at peace. It was the first time Moony ever felt at ease. They’d be lying if it didn’t make them happy. 

Y/n stayed up all night with the animals. Despite the animals not knowing, Y/n knew that the stag, rat, and dog were animagus’. The werewolf was unknown to her. The following morning when the stag turning into James, rat into Peter, dog into Sirius. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to find out who the werewolf was. When he turned back into a human with his clothes tattered. Y/n continued to run her fingers through his hair as he slept. 

“Morning, Marauders,” Y/n commented. 

“You’re- you-“ James stuttered.

She laughed, “Apparently, your moony really likes me.”

“Would you mind petting me again?” Sirius teased, “Maybe.” Y/n retorted, winking. 

Sirius laid down on her other thigh that Remus wasn’t laying on, smiling; she ran her fingers through their hair, “You’re a godsend, lemme tell you.”

James and Peter sat in front of Y/n, “What made you want to take a walk in the forbidden forest last night?”

“Just wanted some air.” Y/n answered. 

Remus groaned and began pushing his head onto Y/n’s hand, “Morning, Remus.”

The Marauders and Y/n had never seen him jump up that fast, “What- you- I- uh-“

“Didn’t know you were a werewolf.”

“I- uh…”

“Sirius, for the love of God, get off her lap.” James interject, slapping the boy on the head playfully, “But it feels so good.” Sirius drawled. 

James grabbed his arm and pulled him onto the grass. In the process, Sirius got a mouthful of dirt and grass, “You wanker.”

“Did I- erm- hurt you?” Remus questioned shyly, “Nope, I'm completely unscathed.” Y/n smiled reassuringly. 

Remus turned to his friends, “Nope! Y/n saved us all.”

“Are you hurt?” Y/n inquired to Remus, who took a quick look at himself, “I- I don’t believe so….”

Sirius blew a raspberry, “Thank Merlin! Dragging you to the hospital wing is bloody exhausting.”

Silence filled the forest until Sirius smirked, “You know, mate when you were talking about Moony wanting her. I thought you were joking. Turns out you weren’t.”

“Oi!”

“Oh, Merlin…”

Y/n chuckled, “Well, Moony is rather cute if I’m honest.”

Remus’ cheeks blasted with pink, and Sirius laughed. James shook his head with a big grin, and Peter looked amused with Y/n’s confession. Without hesitation, Y/n leaned over to kiss Remus’ cheek, making him hide his face flustered. She stood up and ruffled Sirius’ hand, gently rubbing her nails across his scalp, making Sirius try to lean into her palm. They all stared at her except for Remus, who was equally embarrassed and flustered. 

“If you’re looking for a fifth Marauder, I know the Slytherin common room password.” Y/n winked as she walked to the castle. 

[ah0rmone]

dazai osamu x fem! reader

warnings: nsfw, minors, dni! dubcon if you squint because the reader finds dazai annoying but attractive, non-consensual touching (at first), enemies/rivals to fuck buddies I guess?, fingering, vaginal penetration.

there are literally two self-defence techniques from here and here

"Why it has to be you?" you grumbled looking at the person who stood in front of you.

"Oh, who else would you like to see as your teacher? Kunikida-kun who's doing everything according to instructions, even fighting? Ranpo-kun who won't lift a finger unless it's a murder case? Or Tanizaki-kun who's always followed by Naomi-chan?"

The obnoxious man in front of you was called Osamu Dazai and, to be fair, you'd actually prefer any other agency member over him. Sure, he definitely had combat experience and, probably, wasn't that bad at teaching, given that Atsushi was still following him. But something about him was off and you didn't like it. Nor that you had any choice, Dazai was there for a reason and that reason was Fukuzawa's order.

"Whatever," you sighed. "Can we get to it already?"

Today was the day when you were supposed to learn some self-defence techniques. Your ability wasn't really of a combat type, so you never participated in fights but it didn't mean that you had a zero possibility of running into problems. It was your own request to be taught how to protect yourself.

However, you didn't feel quite confident at all. You genuinely hated conflicts and tended to avoid people, so all of this was a somewhat essential but still itchy experience. Your sporty shorts and a skintight top wasn't helping the situation either. Especially, since a person with who you were going to get quite close physically was a rather attractive young man. You and Dazai weren't that close, just colleagues who barely communicated. For you he was just as attractive as he was annoying - you wouldn't mind having a fling with him but nothing more. Maybe it was the way he carried himself: overly cheerful, loud and noisy. Or maybe it was the things he was hiding: his true mischievous, manipulative personality.

Taking a deep breath you reminded yourself that it was your idea, something that your survival depended on and that you just had to get over it.

"Usually you're not the one who fights, y/n-chan. So what are we doing here?" Dazai asked, a teasing smile on his lips.

His eyes were gleaming with a vicious sparkle. Your power imbalance was uncomfortable to you. You shrugged, the feeling that he was a big cat and you were his meal strongly sat in your guts.

"I'm here to learn how to defend myself. Like some easy techniques. I'm not very strong, keep it in mind," you reminded with a well-controlled flat voice but some notes of irritation would have been apparent even to the densest person.

Osamu didn't answer, instead, he let his fake smile turn into a smirk. For a moment the room fell into silence and you could swear that your heart was beating too loud. Both of you just stared at each other for some seconds until the smile returned on Dazai's lips and the man joyfully clapped.

"Okay, gotcha! First of all," he took a step closer. "The most important thing in fighting is a stable stance. Stand like this," he put the left leg forward and motioned you to follow him.

Hesitantly you mirrored his stance, the feeling of embarrassment washing over you. It wasn't even the physical activity that you hated but the way Dazai was gazing at you. Predatory eyes were gliding over your skin like he was analysing your tiniest movements. Like he was about to pounce.

Just as you anticipated, once you've finished copying him, Osamu clicked his tongue and stood up.

"No, y/n-chan, you're doing it wrong."

You were about to argue but Dazai was already behind you. Suddenly painfully aware of the warmth of his body you tried to move from him but he was quick to put a hand on your hip.

"Let me help you," his hot breath ran over the shell of your ear making you flinch a little.

While you were contemplating whether you should allow him to be that close, Dazai had already brushed his palm down your leg. Now he was standing next to you, your bodies touching.

"There," he encouraged, moving your leg a little further by the back of your knee. His other hand was still placed on your hip and such a position was taking away any personal space you had before.

"Thanks," you muttered, feeling the light smell of his cologne.

"Now you're standing rather steady, aren't you?" he beamed with his hand still on your leg.

"Ah, yeah," you muttered, grabbing him by the wrist and pushing it off yourself then taking a step back. "Guess, we can move to the actual stuff now."

"Y/n-chan!" Dazai exclaimed. "The stance is very important, I didn't show it for fun!"

You saw the man's lips curl into a pout but either than that he didn't display any sign of irritation by you pushing him away. Keeping that in mind you decided that even though he might not have any ill intentions you should stay on guard.

Something dropped behind the door and as you inverted your gaze to the sound you felt your hair being grabbed.

"What," you didn't even have the chance to end the question instantly being pushed to the wall.

Your colleague's right hand was holding firmly your hair, the other one gripping your waist. You tried to push back, but to no avail - his whole body was pushing you to the wall.

"Dazai," you growled.

"Too bad, y/n-chan," he cooed. "How can you protect yourself when you have such a short attention span? Look at you - one move and you're helpless."

The sting of resentment piercing through your heart encouraged you to grumble through the teeth:

"I told you I'm weak."

"And stupid apparently," he gibbed.

"Listen," you tried to free yourself but instead just shook your hips clumsily. "If you came here just to insult me, let's end it, I'll ask Fukuzawa-san to send someone else," voice full with venom, you wanted to be as far from Dazai as possible but instead felt with dread as your hips bucked into his. You jolted forward fighting for the tiniest bit of space.

If Dazai noticed, he didn't show it as there was no reaction whatsoever. However, your little touch wasn't the only thing he ignored:

"Let me instead show you how to deflect it," he proposed, paying no heed to your words.

He backed up and you got a chance to glance at him with unhidden irritation. He met your gaze with a cheesy smile like he wasn't a person degrading you a couple of seconds ago. However, giving it a little bit more thought you exhaled and nodded. After all, you should've picked up something from this lesson, not just the revelation that Dazai was a total dick and you wouldn't want him to be near you ever again.

You moved from the wall and this time he gripped your hair slowly.

"What you want to do now is to grab my hand by both of yours, then stand back to the stance I showed you earlier, turn underneath the arm, so that you twist it and when the person lets go, just bolt. Got it?"

You hummed in acknowledgement. Perhaps it wasn't that difficult. Perhaps, at the end of the day, the lesson would be fruitful.

"Try it then," he prompted and then tugged at your hair lightly.

Following his instructions, you grabbed his hand and as you were about to go underneath his arm, he spun you. His arm was firmly holding your throat.

"No, y/n-chan, I've told you your stance was wrong," he whined. "Let me show you again."

"What just happened?" you asked confusedly but he already was spreading your legs.

Osamu didn't answer, too busy putting you in the right stance. And you tried your best to concentrate on how your legs were placed instead of his fingers brushing over your ass a couple of times, once getting a little bit too close to your clothed vagina.

"Just like this," he said and his hand slid up from your knee to your waist getting under the top a little.

From your point of view, the skinship was completely irrelevant but you decided to keep your sharky comments to yourself. For now, you were going to follow his instructions and maybe you could avoid the conflict.

Maybe not.

This time around when you were trying to deflect his arm, once again he outpowered you. You cursed as he said with disappointment in his voice (you were pretty sure it was the fake one, he was enjoying it, that bastard):

"You're too slow, y/n-chan. Do you think attackers would just stand there and watch as you crawl your way out of their grip as a turtle in slow-mo?"

"Dazai, I'd appreciate it if you-"

"Again," he cut you harshly, puppeting you around like you were nothing but a doll.

His attitude towards you was so demoralizing you were fighting the urge to end it here and there. Losing all the motivation and looking exhausted, you tried to go through the motion again but Dazai wasn't having it.

"Hm, y/n-chan, kinda feels like you're not trying hard enough. Should I give you a motivation boost?" he exclaimed cheerfully but before you could say that he should go fuck himself he had already pushed you to the wall. Again.

You were expecting harsh words pouring from his mouth, but instead, it was the kisses as he roughly pulled your hair baring your neck for him. The hot tongue travelled from your shoulder to the globe of your ear, prompting you to jolt. Once again you attempted to push him away but could barely move. His left hand was pinning your wrist and his right one was painfully tagging at your hair, cranking your head to the side.

"Dazai," you wanted to let him know that you understood his intentions but he needed to stop when a not so gentle bite quickly shut you up.

He was licking and nipping leaving hickeys at your poor neck. You were squirming and whirling under his touch not giving up yet, so he thrust his hips into yours. There was no way you could keep any sounds in, so a whiny moan escaped your lips. You felt Dazai stopping, a satisfied smirk on his lips, then without saying a word, he continued torturing your sensitive neck. Two things were clear to you: a strong lust was taking over your body which meant that you were slowly losing yourself and that Dazai had just started playing with you, there were more to come.

Dazai. Dazai! Realising who was the man behind you, you tried to gain back control. Osamu was just being a bully, whywere you letting him see you in such a state? He certainly didn't deserve nor your moans, nor your hips grinding his.

You were thinking this but it took everything in you to not just give in to his touch. While you were having an internal battle, Dazai pulled away with a loud pop.

"Five."

"Five what?" you mewled weakly.

"There are five hickeys on your neck," Dazai murmured. "You look so good, all red and moaning. When you can't even do anything. You've been definitely enjoying it, sure you still want to continue learning self-defence techniques?"

You widened your eyes at his words.

"Excuse me?!" you exploded. "What the hell are you implying?!"

With all force, you shoved him in the side with an elbow. Dazai hissed and even though the attack was fairly weak he let go.

"I mean, no kink-shaming," he put hands in the air surrendering.

"What's your problem?!"

It was hard for you to overcome your desire of slapping him but no way in hell you were staying in one room with him for another second. You bolted but Dazai was quicker, catching your hand.

"Where're you going? For a moment there I thought you didn't agree and wanted to continue," he quipped. "Come on, that was just one technique."

"Dazai, let me go," you growled yanking your hand free. "I've had enough of you today, I'm leaving."

You had already turned to leave when he pulled you to the ground. You snorted in frustration, your legs fiercely kicking but the lack of strategy played against you and there you were - trapped under him. Osamu was sitting between your legs with his arms pinning yours to the ground.

You felt unbearably hot and weak, your cunt throbbing against his groin. His face was hanging right above yours, so close you could feel his breath. Unintentionally your eyes focused on his lips then you looked up. Only now you noticed how lustful his gaze was. He clearly was a winner today and he was about to enjoy his prize. As you licked your lips, your recognised your mistake - now your eagerness was more than obvious.

"I'm just parched," you faltered but it sounded pathetic even to you.

"I'm sure you are," Osamu whispered, sitting back. "One more technique and I'll let you go." His fingers gripped your thighs.

Since his weight was off you now, you felt kind of cold. Not knowing where to place your arms, you were about to put them next to your sides when Dazai commanded you to keep them still.

That position was too sexy for your liking - arms are placed next to your head, legs spread. All of it without his control felt like you were offering yourself to him. Like you were submitting. The man was clearly savouring it because his gaze was so intense, in the end, you even had to avert yours.

Dazai clearly didn't like it, tapping your left thigh:

"Look at me, y/n-chan, how else are you supposed to learn?"

You slowly turned back, embarrassed as your eyes darted all over him until they abruptly stopped at his crotch. There was a visible boner in his pants. When Osamu followed your gaze and loudly chuckled you felt your cheeks grow hot and desire growing stronger.

"Concentrate, y/n-chan," Dazai said amusingly but the only thing you could concentrate on was the wetness between your legs. You feared it might start to be visible through your shorts.

"Look, if someone got you into this position," Osamu continued like both of you didn't want the same thing and that thing was to fuck. "You have to keep your arms straight and put them on your shoulders, like this," he gently took your hands and placed them as he instructed. "Then you should put your leg on my hip," he tried to do it for you once again but your leg was wobbly. All the strength you had was wasted on keeping your arms straight.

Dazai sighed theatrically but he couldn't keep a vicious sparkle in his eyes.

"Y/n-chan," he whinged. "You're such a bad student. Weak. Stupid," his fingers were slowly stroking your thigh. "Having a short attention span. Don't you think that you should have concentrated on learning some stuff instead of thinking about my cock?" With this question his arm groped your ass, pulling you closer.

He gripped your hips and you let out a moan. Now you weren't trying to hold back. You were already a loser, might as well enjoy it. Being a tease he was, Dazai wasn't ready to give you everything right then and there but you were having none of it. You hooked your legs around his waist and pulled him closer by his collarbone. Osamu certainly wasn't ready for such a force so he confusingly complied.

"Call me stupid one more time and I'm leaving," you warned him, a confident smirk playing on your lips.

Dazai's face quickly changed from surprised to a perverse one. He dropped down on you, pinning you with his whole body and slammed his hips into yours. As you moaned he caressed your face, lovingly brushing your hair, and then whispered:

"I'm gonna break you, pretty doll."

With one swift motion, he put your wrists in one hand pinning it above your head, his tongue running over your lips then dragging you into a deep kiss. As you two were hungrily kissing each other you felt his fingers crawling under your waistband. You jolted, an instinct of placing your hand over his acting up but he was still holding you firmly. He ran one finger over your cunt but you were already shaking, silently begging for more.

"Dazai," you moaned desperately asking him to get down to business.

"You're so wet, y/n-chan," he licked your earlobe making you writhe. "I wish I teased you a little bit more," he started to kiss your jaw getting lower and lower. "I said that I'd break you but it seems you're already at your limit," he chortled, helping you to take your top and bra off.

"You look so beautiful," he murmured once you were almost fully naked in front of him.

Suddenly his gaze turned soft and you felt even more aroused than you before. Gladly the man wasn't planning on wasting any time as he started to lick, nip and bite one of your nipples, playing with his fingers with another. Moaning lewdly and rutting your hips you put your hand into his hair, curling soft strands in your fingers.

When he finished playing with your tits, he wanted to go further down, to place kisses on your lower stomach, but you decided to get back at him. Placing your straight hands on his shoulders, you put a leg on his thigh just as he instructed and squirmed out of his grip.

"You talk about me but look at yourself," you shoved a knee between his thighs, pushing it at his boner. "You were hard even before I started to feel something else besides irritation."

Now it was Osamu whose breath hitched. You were savouring your little win when he looked back at you with a dangerous grin. That was when you realised you fucked up. He quickly grabbed your leg and turned you over on the stomach. Laying down on you, he harshly seized your hair and hissed:

"A+ for learning the technique, but your attitude towards you teacher," he took off your shorts with pants nearly ripping them. "Needs some correction."

That was when the sound of a loud slap broke the silence of the room. You jolted, a gasp leaving your lips. You tried to crawl from him but his grip on your hair was strong.

"Come on, y/n-chan, it was just one slap. Don't you think you deserve it?" The hand that hit you was stroking your bruised ass cheek.

"It fucking hurt," you spit.

"Was it?" Dazai chuckled. "Say that you're sorry."

"For what?" you raged but another hit was your answer.

"Dazai, stop," you sobbed.

"Wrong," he retorted slapping your ass again. "Plus, if you don't like it why are you leaking so much?"

You embarrassingly bit a lip at his remark.

"A little bit of masochistic, are you?" Dazai noted. "Well, if you insist, I can keep on going."

You knew that both of you were barely holding it, so you decided to submit. Just this once.

"I'm sorry!" You squealed after another hit.

"Good girl," Osamu placed a soft kiss on your back still not letting go of your hair. "Now it's time for a treat."

And with that, he finally pushed the first finger into you. Since you were so wet there was a little pool under you, Dazai successfully pushed another finger shortly after. You quivered and jerked your hips begging him to move. This time around your colleague decided not to tease you.

As his fingers were pumping in and out of you, you were trying to push your head down to steady yourself but Dazai didn't let go. You were completely at his will.

"'m close," you mewled, your eyes rolling back.

Dazai hummed in acknowledgement and withdrew his hand. You groaned offendedly but heard the sound of a condom wrapper being ripped and then felt something else rubbing at your entrance.

Finally, Osamu positioned himself behind you and pushed inside, your pussy stretching obediently. The fullness made you gasp pervertedly. As he started moving your mind went completely blank. The only thing that existed for you at that moment was Dazai and his cock inside of you. He let go of your hair, one hand now was holding your hips and another one was giving attention to your clit.

You had no idea how he was still holding on but once your sensitive bud got stimulated you quickly come undone.

"Once more," Dazai panted while moving and playing with your clit simultaneously.

Even though you were tired, you had actually felt desire growing again. Osamu was just way too good for you to resist. You thought that the only thing he was chasing was his high, but he didn't cum until you orgasmed again denying himself every time he got too close. That's why when you cummed for the second time you did it toghether.

He rolled off you, but you couldn't move even a finger, for a moment you've gone completely numb. Your chest was going up and down with heavy breaths, your heart was racing. None of you spoke because you didn't know what to talk about. Especially, since you, personally, felt way too embarrassed to admit that you had just cummed two times because of an annoying Dazai Osamu.

"Looks like we ended in time!" Dazai chirped after some time and you looked at the clock realising that you spent here one hour. Just like it was promised.

"Wish I had actually learned something though," you remarked lazily, trying to pull on your shorts back. You just had to make it to the shower room and then wear your casual clothes. However, your pants were completely ruined.

"Well, if you think that you need another one, just let me know," you looked back at Dazai and his smirk told you that he wasn't meaning the self-defence lessons. You felt your cheeks grow hot again.

"Yeah, sure," you muttered, awkwardly leaving the training room.

From now on you intended on avoiding Dazai whenever it's possible.

Little did you know he had other plans.

[marvelsbanner]

Ohh!! Could you do prompt number 40: “Have I entered an alternate universe or did you really just crack a smile for me?” with Natasha maybe? You don't have to if you don't want to, it was just an idea 😊 love your work btw❤️

Word Count: ~950 

Warnings: Minor cursing, suggestive language 

A/N: All mistakes are my own. Likes, reblogs, and feedback greatly appreciated <3 Thanks for the prompt darling, that was a cute idea to write! 

You groaned as you looked at the training schedule sheet outside of the Avengers gym facility. 6:00 am-9:00 am: y/f/n y/l/n, Natasha Romanoff 

It wasn’t that you didn’t like Nat, in fact, the problem was that you liked Nat a little too much. You couldn’t help it, and how could you? The fiery redhead had captured your attention since your first day on the team. She was a badass spitfire of sarcastic comments and playful banter; she looked as sweet as candy but you knew if you pissed her off she could have you pinned to the ground with a knife at your neck in seconds, no matter where you were. It was kind of hot. 

So yes, you had feelings for the woman. You didn’t actually plan on doing anything about them, you were teammates and she was closed off with everyone but Barton and Rogers. You didn’t want to cross any lines and scare her off, losing the little progress you had made with her over the months you had been at the compound. 

At least, you think you had made progress. You weren’t exactly sure what to consider your relationship- coworkers? teammates? friends? The two of you had an interesting dynamic when you were together. 

The first time you had actually talked was during your first one-on-one training session. She was cold and reserved at first, but that left you intimidated and giving a subpar performance when she knew you could do better. To get you more comfortable she began to warm up a little bit, throwing you sarcastic banter and even some suggestive comments that left you bushing as she was finally able to push you to your physical limit. She was harder on you than any of the other trainees that you could see, and it could make her seem harsh at times but you didn’t believe her to have ill intentions. 

Sometimes with her playfulness you allowed yourself a slimmer of hope that she could actually reciprocate your feelings, and other times you were certain it was just the way she was with everyone. She was still quite cold and snarky at times, especially when you would hit a sensitive spot with a joke or you weren’t performing as well as she wanted you to. 

You walked into the gym to find the redhead already warming up with stretches. Typical, you still weren’t entirely convinced the woman actually slept. You had only ever seen her in the gym or at meetings, and you almost believed she existed only in those spaces. 

“I was wondering when you would show up” she quipped at you, rising from her stretched out position on the mat. “Well Natasha, not everyone is naturally gorgeous like you. Some of us actually need some beauty rest,” you remarked- immediately cringing at yourself as the words left your lips. You don’t know what came over you. 

Her eyebrows raised in what could only be her muted version of shock before she quickly composed herself, “Cute, but flattery isn’t going to get you out of training” she remarked.

“Wouldn’t dream of it” you replied cooly, smirking as you watched her brow slightly furrow. You had never been this bold with her before, but you had a burst of confidence and you were going to roll with it. 

You shifted into your sparring stance and she quickly mirrored you, seemingly reading your mind as you went for a torso shot and was immediately blocked. She grabbed the arm you tried to strike with, twisting it before hooking a leg around your knee and pushing you front-first into the floor. 

“Well this is new, you usually like to have me on my back,” you remark cheekily, slightly out of breath as she cleared her throat and moved off of you. “Well.. it’s good to try out different positions. You never know what kind of situations you’ll be dealing with” she replied, and you could feel a warmth rising up your neck that was definitely not from the exercise.

“Yeah, makes sense. I appreciate that you’re looking out for me- and the team, of course. You make a great teacher” you said, and you could swear you saw those pretty pink lips of hers curve into a small smile as she turned her face away from you.

“Woah woah woah, have I entered an alternate universe or did you really just crack a smile for me?” She rolled her eyes at you, lips falling into her natural tell-tale smirk before she was sweeping your legs out from under you and pining you to the mat again.

She quirked an eyebrow as she loomed over you, body pressed dangerously close against your own.

“You tell anyone I’m not as scary as I look and I’ll kick your ass” she half-heartedly threatened. 

At least your hoped it was half-heartedly..

“Oh but I’m hoping you do” you teased back, making her roll her eyes at you once more as she tried to hide a slight smile and moved to stand. 

She offered you a hand and pulled you to your feet before quickly flipping you onto your back on the mat once more.

The wind was knocked out of you and you didn’t even have the air to make a sarcastic comment at her. “Just don’t forget who’s in charge around here,” she said with a wink, turning and walking towards the exit with what you were sure was an emphasized swing of her hips.

“Close your mouth and stop staring at my ass. If you like what you see you can join me for dinner tonight. 7, don’t be late” She called back at you, neither turning around nor giving you a chance to respond. 

But she knew you’d be there, of course, you’d be there.

Maybe training with Natasha wasn't so bad after all.. 

[sunshineandaisies]

Coffee Connection

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Words: 1.5k

Warnings: sexual suggestions, i think a few language words maybe?

You were a creature of habit, there was no denying that, and you had no shortage of habits that made you such.

Example A; every Thursday afternoon, after you’d rushed from the lecture hall at the end of your final class of the day, you’d spend two hours sitting on the plush couch in the coffee shop just down the street from your apartment, sipping coffee after coffee as you fingers clacked across the keyboard of your laptop and you made the latest edits to your graduate thesis.

Usually, there would always be a random stranger sitting at the opposite end of the couch, and it was never the same person two weeks in a row. Sometimes it was a sharply dressed business type that sipped their coffee while scrolling through emails on their phone, and other times it was sleep-deprived student, sipping on what you assumed was likely their sixth cup of coffee that day and trying their best to not pull their hair out as they worked on whatever assignment had them so obviously stressed. Occasionally, you even recognized a professor that you had taken classes with during your undergrad, laughing as they graded poorly written and ill-conceived papers.

But six weeks ago, you recognized the man that sat in the seat at the other end of the couch as the same man that had sat beside you the week before.

When you first realized that he was the same man from the week before, you did your best to look him over from the corner of your eye. He was certainly the tall, handsome brooding type - that much was clear with just a single glance - but you had to do a bit of a double take when you saw the book that he was so intently focused on.

Twilight? Really?

You had been so shocked by his book choice that you didn’t see him look up at you with an annoyed expression etched across his features, but as soon as you felt his intense gaze on you your cheeks flooded with warmth and you quickly averted your gaze.

You didn’t dare look at him again that day.

The following week, however, you put your surreptitious observation skills to the test as soon as you took your usual seat on the plush couch, and you were pleasantly impressed with what you saw. Mesmerizing blue eyes, deliciously muscled thighs, fingers that made your mind wander to less than appropriate places, and...and a metal arm?

You put an end to your staring sooner than you really wanted to, but you’d rather not have your silent coffee shop companion see you salivating over him. Instead, you focused on your thesis and cast the tiniest of glances at the man when you found your mind conjuring up images of what his fingers could do and what it would feel like to have his metal hand wrapped around your-

What the hell? First he was reading Twilight, and now he’s reading The Hunger Games? Who the hell was this guy?

As the weeks went on, the two of you sat alone together and your confusion over his reading interests only grew. So far, you’d seen him read not only Twilight and The Hunger Games, but also various books from the Game of Thrones series and The Fault in Our Stars.

Additionally, as the weeks went on, your impending thesis deadline was swiftly approaching, and your Thursday routine was rudely interrupted by an impromptu meeting with your graduate advisor after your final class of the day. It was a quick meeting, no more than twenty minutes long, but that small interruption of your usual schedule had you sprinting across campus, frazzled and frantic and worried that your seat on the plush couch of the coffee shop would be taken by the time you finally arrived.

You hurried away from the counter as soon as your usual cup of coffee had been pushed into your hand by the exhausted barista, hoping that your seat hadn’t been taken when you failed to show up ten minutes ago. A sigh escaped from between your lips when you saw that it remained vacant. Depositing your bag on the ground in front of the couch, you quickly pulled your laptop out and tried to calm your frazzled nerves enough to focus on your thesis.

“You’re late.”

You were so surprised that he had actually spoken to you that you froze, wondering if you’d simply imagined it. A quick glance to your side told you that you absolutely had not imagined it. He stared at you with a frown on his face and his brows pinched together in irritation, his book all but abandoned in his lap.

You raised a brow at him. “What?”

His eyes widened and a barely noticeable dusting of pink coated his cheeks. Cute. “I, uh-” Watching him stumble over his words as he tried to come up with a believable explanation for his surprising concern had you biting your lip to suppress an amused smile. “Nevermind,” he grumbled, turning his attention back to his book - this time the Maze Runner - as his lips tightened into an unimpressed line.

“No, you’re right.” He cautiously dragged his gaze back to you, curiosity sparkling in his blue eyes. “I was late. I’m never late.” After a moment of observing you, he nodded. Before he could go back to reading his book and ignoring you again, you commented, “Your taste in books has improved since the first week you sat with me.”

The corner of his mouth twitched upward slightly before he was expressionless once again. “Yeah, I really wish I could get those hours of my life back.” You giggled, and he wasn’t able to fight back the smile that spread across his face.

“The Maze Runner’s pretty good,” you assured him. “Movies are good, too.”

And somehow, you ended up spending the next hour talking with your once silent coffee shop companion - “Bucky,” he had introduced himself with a smile - and completely ignoring your thesis in favor of talking about his recent book choices and opinions on their respective movie or television adaptations. Did he think Twilight was terrible? Absolutely. Did he think that the Hunger Games was an interesting commentary on social class differences? Definitely. Did he think the last season of Game of Thrones was awful? Don’t get him started. Did he cry while watching The Fault in Our Stars? No comment.

When you finally asked why he was reading so much - especially some of his questioning book choices - he sighed, answering, “My therapist thinks it’ll help me get acclimated to the twenty-first century better if I work on understanding pop culture better. These books were all on her list of recommendations.”

Suddenly, it clicked. Bucky, metal arm, getting acclimated to the twenty-first century. “You’re Bucky Barnes.” It wasn’t a question. It was more of a statement, an undeniable fact, and it clearly caught him off guard that you came to that conclusion so easily.

“Uh, yeah.” He nervously scratched the back of his neck, his lips turning down into a frown. “That’s me.”

Despite his reaction, you chuckled. “Well this is awkward.” He quirked a brow at you, his frown deepening. Before he could misunderstand, you continued, “I’m writing my thesis on societal perceptions of superheroes. I’ve literally spent hours researching you and Captain America and Iron Man and Thor and-”

He interrupted you, his brows pinched so tightly together you worried they’d end up stuck like that. “You think I’m a superhero?”

You shrugged and took a quick sip of your now cold coffee. “I mean, yeah. You helped Captain America fight Hydra back in the forties, and you helped beat Thanos last year, didn’t you?”

“There’s a lot of things I’ve done in the time between then that would firmly put me in the other category.”

You let out a breath, nodding solemnly. “I read about that, too,” you admitted. “But I also know that it wasn’t really something that you did of your own free-will. That makes you a victim, not a villain. When you actually had a choice, it seems like you always chose to do the right thing.”

He remained silent for an extended moment, and you worried that you ruined the easy companionship that had developed between you and the supersoldier. You tried to force down the rising sense of disappointment as you pursed your lips and turned away from him, slowly packing up your belongings to leave.

“Wait, Y/N.” You paused in the middle of shoving your laptop into your bag and glanced up at him curiously. “Can I-” He cleared his throat. “Can I buy you a coffee?”

You raised a brow, gaze flickering to your half-full cup of coffee on the table.

He chuckled, and dear god a sound has never made your stomach flip and flop as much as the sound of his deep chuckles spilling from his parted lips. “I mean a fresh, hot coffee. If, uh, you’re open to it, I’d like to hear more about your thesis.”

You nodded eagerly and pulled your laptop from your bag as a wide smile curled your lips. “I’d like that.”

[storiesforallfandoms]

sister’s approval ~ machine gun kelly

word count: 1415

request?: yes!

“Machine gun Kelly x female reader. The reader is Kells younger sister who’s a singer and who’s really close to kells. When kells and Megan start dating people start saying how Megan is trying to push her out of kells life, trying to make kells forget about his sister even though Megan and kells sister immediately became best friends when kells introduced them. She finally has enough of people saying stuff about Megan and she posts on social media saying that she’s tired of people saying stuff that isn’t true and that her and Megan are best friends and she doesn’t hate Megan and that she’s really happy that her brother found someone as amazing as Megan. Please and thank you”

description: in which the tabloids are trying to paint her brother’s girlfriend as a bad person, so she decides to set the record straight

pairing: machine gun kelly x sister!reader

warnings: swearing

masterlist (one, two)

She ran right past her brother and immediately tackled his girlfriend instead. Megan chuckled and hugged (Y/N) back as Colson watched with amusement.

“Good to see you too, sis,” he said.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re cool I guess,” (Y/N) said, waving Colson’s comment away. “We both know I’m here for Megan.”

“Weird, I thought you were here to record a song with me.��

“That’s like the side quest, the main mission is Megan.”

Colson rolled his eyes. (Y/N) made her way to his home studio, basically making herself at home in his house.

Despite both of them being in the music business for over 10 years, neither of the Baker siblings had ever done a song together. With the production of his next album, Colson insisted that (Y/N) made a feature on the album. She said yes on the condition that they both kept it an absolute secret until it was released to which Colson agreed.

(Y/N) threw herself down onto the couch in Colson’s home studio and pulled her songwriting notebook from her bag. “I have a few different verses written just because when I started writing I couldn’t stop. You choose one that sounds best with the rest of the song.”

“I’m sure all of them would work.

“Yeah but we can’t do a six verse song, that’s just too long. Pick one and I’ll use the others for a different song.”

Colson took the notebook and read through the verses. (Y/N) took her phone to look through social media while he read them. Megan was sat next to her, sending each other 8 Ball games back and forth between social media sessions.

After scrolling through Instagram for a while, (Y/N) switched to Twitter to find her own name trending. Confused, she clicked it to find an article at the top of the trend. The title read: “MGK blows off sister again! The rapper stands up (Y/N) for Megan Fox yet again”, accompanied by a picture of (Y/N) sat alone outside of a restaurant.

She didn’t have to read the rest of the article to know it was bullshit. The picture was of (Y/N) waiting on a friend outside the restaurant, not Colson, and the headline was so false that (Y/N)’s hands started to shake.

“(Y/N)? You good?”

Colson’s voice brought (Y/N) out of her enraged trance. She looked up to see him and Megan looking at her, expectantly.

“Yeah, I’m good,” she responded. However, another brief glance at her phone brought her anger back. “Actually, no, I’m not. I’ll be right back.”

She got up and walked out of the studio. She went to the living room, far enough away that she knew they wouldn’t be able to hear her as she filmed her video.

The press had been trying to pin (Y/B) and Megan against one another since she and Colson started dating. (Y/N) and Colson had always been close, but once Colson started dating Megan, the paparazzi started taking pictures of just the two of them or just (Y/N), totally ignoring the fact that (Y/N) was constantly posting pictures and tweets about Megan, and that all three of them spent time together often.

(Y/N) had had enough of the lies and the clickbait just to make Megan and Colson look like bad people. She was about to set the record straight, whether people wanted to hear it and believe it or not.

She switched her phone to Instagram again and went to her story. She held her phone up so that she was framed perfectly in the shot and held down on the button to begin recording.

“Hey everyone! I just wanted to address something really quick,” she started. She held the phone out so that the camera would pick up the background. “You see this behind me? This living room I’m in? This is Colson’s living room, because I am in Colson’s house. I am here spending time with him and with Megan, as I do almost every day. I am bringing this up because I just saw yet another article trying to make it out as if Colson has stopped spending time with me due to Megan. These articles are nothing but clickbait and lies to try and grab reader’s attention, especially the attention of my fans.

“Colson and I have not had any sort of falling out. There are no ill wishes from me towards Megan, and vice versa. In fact, Megan is my best friend. I like her more than I like Colson. And no, Colson has not stood me up or dumped me for Megan. Does he like to have his alone time with her? Of course! All couples do! But we still spend time together and we still talk to one another. There’s no bad blood between any of us. To the tabloids that have been spewing this bullshit for nearly a year now, I’d like for you all to kindly and politely shut the fuck up and move on. If I keep seeing this slander about my family, I will not hesitate to take legal action. To any of my fans who actually believe this and are sending hateful messages to Colson and Megan, I also beg you to stop. They are my family, and by hurting them you are hurting me. Whether you choose to believe this video or not is totally up to you, but this is the truth. All three of us, we’re a family. So fuck off of my family.”

(Y/N)’s hands were still shaking as she pressed “post”. She watched the videos load one by one before they were all posted to her story. The moment they went up, the views came flooding in, as did the positive messages. Many of her fans sent her private messages in response to the story, telling her they were sorry that she and Colson had to deal with that and assuring her that the real fans knew there was no ill intentions between the three of them.

Satisfied that she had finally gotten that off her chest, (Y/N) went to Colson’s kitchen and poured herself a glass of water before going back to the home studio. As she walked through the door, both Colson and Megan’s heads turned to look at her.

“Did you guys want water, too?” she asked, trying to lighten the mood.

“You could’ve told us you were going to film that video,” Colson said. “We could’ve addressed the rumors, too.”

(Y/N) sighed and took her spot on the couch again. “I know that, but I felt like it had to be me addressing it. I was the one being made out to be a victim. If you guys said anything before I did, everyone would just think you’re trying to cover your own asses. You can make statements if you want, but I felt like I had to be the first one to speak up about this.”

“She’s right,” Megan agreed. “If we came out about it first it would just be fuel to the tabloid’s fire. Although, I don’t think we should have to make any sort of statement about it. The fact that anyone believes that shit makes no sense to me.”

“People like to demonize celebrities they don’t like,” (Y/N) responded. “Whether it’s true or not. Chances are that video will be taken out of context to fit their agenda, but whatever. I said my piece, I’m moving on.” She nodded to her notebook in Colson’s hand. “Did you choose a verse?”

Colson looked down at the notebook before passing it back to (Y/N). “They’re all really good, so I thought maybe, instead of one single, we do an entire album together.”

(Y/N)’s eyes widened. “Are you serious? Like you actually wanna do that?”

Colson nodded. “Yeah! I think it’ll be a fun surprise to both of our fanbases, and it’ll definitely make up for the last ten years where we haven’t worked together.”

(Y/N) was basically bouncing with excitement. “Oh my God, this album is gonna be so fucking awesome! We should give it a really cheesy name, like Baker’s Dozen.”

“No,” Colson said.

“Yes!” Megan retorted.

“Two against one, it’s being called Baker’s Dozen,” (Y/N) decided. She and Megan high fived while Colson buried his head in his hands and let out a groan.

[sgtjbbhasmyheart]

Drunk Texting Is(n’t) Bad for Your Health- Chapter Three

Series Summary: Talk about your unconventional meet-cute! Bucky receives a text by mistake requesting he prove he's not Reader's sister. The easy dialogue between Reader and Bucky sparks a natural friendship, but could it lead to more? Bucky still deems himself unworthy of any form of affection or love. Reader is hellbent to prove him wrong. With the help of some (meddling) friends along the way, Bucky may get his happily-ever-after after all.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 1740

Warnings: Nosy (and well-meaning) friends acting like nosy siblings, angst, bad language words

A/N: After I originally posted this chapter on AO3, I got some comments that exacerbated the beginnings of a year long depression. Please be kind. I intended this chapter to come across as the gang being like siblings...always being in each other’s business. Is there a breach of privacy? Yes, but without the ill-intent. 

DO NOT copy or replicate without permission

Bucky clutched his phone in his flesh hand as he made his way down a long hallway to the communal kitchen and eating area. A soft, crooked smile rested at his lips as he entered the space. Natasha and Sam were sitting at opposite ends of the rectangular table separating the kitchen from the lounge, enjoying a late breakfast. Steve was at a kitchen counter fiddling with the Keurig machine. He pulled another mug from the cupboard when he saw Bucky approach. “Mornin’, Buck. Sleep well?”

Bucky’s grin broadened as he leaned his backside against the countertop. “I did, actually. Thanks for asking,” he answered, looking to his phone at the incoming text.

(Y/N) Would you rather have skin that changes color based on your emotions or tattoos appear all over your body, depicting what you did the day before?

He missed the way Sam and Nat looked at each other in suspicion at his answer to Steve. He was too busy pressing the keys on his touch-screen.

Bucky The tattoos would be awkward, speaking from a male’s perspective, so I think color changing would be better. Not by much, though.

Bucky Would you rather have edible spaghetti hair that regrows every night or sweat maple syrup?

Bucky saw Steve slide the new mug, now filled with coffee, across the granite-top toward him from the corner of his eye. He glanced up quickly from the screen and nodded. “Thanks, buddy.” Steve answered with a smile.

“What, no grunted thanks or mumbled acknowledgment?” Natasha quipped, standing from her seat to place her plate in the dishwasher.

“Yeah, man. You have been using way too many words lately. I miss the grumpy dude that would brood in the corner,” Sam added, crossing his arms at his chest. “Are we even sure this is the right Bucky?”

Bucky’s phone vibrated again.

(Y/N) I love me some spaghetti! Can you imagine sweating sticky, gooey maple syrup during a humid New York summer?? Your clothes would be toast.

(Y/N) Mmmm, french toast.

Bucky chuckled at the reply, drawing the attention of three sets of eyes.

Sam wasn’t wrong; he wasn’t the same Bucky.

It had been five days since (Y/N)’s first drunken texts. Five days. He couldn’t believe so little time had passed. Somehow, (Y/N) had wiggled her way under his skin.

He had noticed after only a day or two; he was smiling more, less volatile. He felt lighter, happier. He wasn’t skulking about the compound like usual, trying to avoid the rest of the team. Some might go as far as to say he was friendlier than usual.

It felt good to have someone, a friend, learning about the real James Buchanan Barnes, for once, without the threat of The Soldier clouding their perception of him.

“You’re freaking me out, man. Straight outta Invasion of the Body Snatchers or some shit,” Sam declared, rising from his chair.

“Hold on, Sam,” Steve placated, lifting a hand to the advancing man. “I’m sure there’s a logical explanation to Bucky’s good mood lately.”

Bucky set his jaw in frustration, the muscles ticking. He wasn’t a Pod Person. He was just happy, for the first time in seventy-five years.

His phone went off again.

(Y/N) Would you rather sneeze once every hour, on the hour, or burp every time you saw an attractive girl?

A wide smile split his mouth as he scanned the screen.

Bucky Am I sneezing in my sleep or just when I’m awake?

When Bucky brought his gaze back up to his teammates, he noticed Natasha’s own eyes flick down to his phone. The slightest smirk curved the corner of her lips.

“It’s curious,” she said, a perfect eyebrow inched higher to her hairline. “All the people you text are in this room, yet, you haven’t been able to pull yourself away from your phone.” Her eye contact never wavered from Bucky’s face. “Don’t ya think that’s odd, fellas?”

“Natalia,” Bucky warned, his voice gruff. He knew she was fishing.

Sam laughed boisterously. “Yeah, I noticed that the other day. It’s glued to your hip nowadays.”

“It could be anyone from the team, guys,” Steve reasoned. “I bet it’s Tony.”

Bucky became increasingly agitated as the redhead slinked closer, passing his phone back and forth between his hands.

Natasha shook her head in the negative. “Nuh-uh,” she said, leaning against the counter directly beside Bucky. A hair’s breadth of space separated their shoulders from one another. Tipping back, with her elbows propped against the hard surface, she kicked her legs out casually and crossed her feet at the ankle. “Those two have barely said two words to each other since the good Sergeant here was welcomed back into the fold. It’s not Tony.”

“That still doesn’t prove anything,” Steve replied, taking a sip of his coffee.

“I bet it’s a girl,” Sam said in a sing-song voice. “But, where would Ice Man here meet a girl?”

Natasha smiled while looking at Sam as he stepped closer to the trio. “Let’s find out, shall we?” She nodded to Sam and, without batting an eye, lunged at Bucky.

She tapped the underside of the hand holding the phone, causing the device to flip up into the air.

Though he hadn’t seen the attack coming, Bucky’s reflexes were cat-like, and he easily caught the phone in his opposite hand.

Unfortunately, Natasha was just as quick and knocked the phone from his hand again. She effortlessly swatted it out of the air and into her hand. As Bucky clamored to retrieve the cell phone, she swung her arm behind her back and tossed it into the waiting hands of Sam.

By looking at Sam’s broad smile, Bucky knew he was having a field day at his expense. He pounced on his teammate, grappling for possession of the device. He wasn’t sorry for elbowing the other man harder than he ever would if they were sparring each other. He needed his fucking phone back!

Sam managed to flick the phone over his other shoulder in the process of Bucky grabbing ahold of Sam’s wrist and twisting the same arm behind his body. It clattered to the ground at Steve’s feet.

As everyone stared at the cell phone lying prone on the tile floor, Sam backed Bucky into the cabinets, trapping him with his body. “Let me go, Bird Brain!” Bucky huffed.

Steve bent to pick the phone up, holding it in his hand. Bucky could see the war playing within Steve’s blue eyes as he struggled against Sam. Steve was just as curious as the other two but didn’t want to betray his friend.

Natasha quickly snatched the device from Steve and started thumbing at the screen.

“Maybe we shouldn’t,” Steve protested.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you to put a passcode on your phone, Barnes?” Natasha tsked as she navigated to the messaging app.

Bucky knew the exact second she found what she was looking for because her eyes became comically wide. A feral, shit-eating grin crossed her mouth as she raised a brow again.

“Tell me about (Y/N).”

“What?” Steve questioned, crowding the red head. “Lemme see.”

Bucky felt his cheeks go aflame as Natasha angled the screen so Steve could see the message thread. They burned hotter as Steve looked up with his own shit-eating smirk.

“Well, well…” Sam piped up. “If your faces are anything to go by, Vanilla Ice’s still got game.” Bucky twisted his arm back further in retaliation causing Sam to grunt in discomfort.

Bucky watched as Natasha’s thumb skimmed along the screen to delve deeper into past messages. Her thumb stopped as she read a passage; her green eyes rapidly followed the lines of text.

“I always kinda figured you’d be into someone that would call you out on your BS. She sounds fun,” Natasha said as she continued to scroll.

“No one’s into anyone. We’re just friends,” Bucky murmured.

Steve’s head shot up to stare at his best friend, sorrow painting his features. He edged away from Natasha. “Does she know who you are?” he asked.

Bucky shook his head no. “And she never will.”

“Aww, but you guys sound so cute together,” Natasha pouted. Bucky frowned at the insinuation. It couldn’t ever happen.

“There aren’t any rules saying we can’t date,” Natasha mentioned. “Hell, you know how many times I tried to set up this big lug?” She motioned to Steve with her thumb.

“That’s different,” Bucky said after a few moments. He eased up slightly on Sam’s arm.

“How so?”

Bucky rubbed a hand across the back of his neck, the blush starting again. “He’s Captain America, and well, I’m not. Not exactly everyone’s favorite.” He downcast his eyes to the floor.

“Buck, you know that’s not true,” Steve said woefully. “It’ll just take some time.”

“I know, Stevie. Until then, though, I’m still a pariah.”

The super soldier serum couldn’t have been given to a better person, but Bucky always felt like he would be trapped in Steve’s shadow, no matter the amount of good he did. He would still feel weak for what Hydra did to him, or not good enough to be labeled Captain America’s best friend.

Feeling the room take a considerable turn toward somber, Natasha called out, “Holy shit, Barnes! You used Wilson’s toothbrush to clean your toilet?”

“What?!” all three male voices cried out.

Sam rushed forward, trying to see the proof for himself. “You’re a dead man!”

Freed from the weight of Sam’s body, Bucky leaped forward toward Natasha and Sam. Slamming into Sam’s back, he snaked an arm around the other man, reaching frantically for his phone. He was done with them spying on his non-existent personal life.

Bucky smacked against Sam’s hands and arms, trying to dislodge the device.

“Stop!” Sam bellowed. “You’re hitting me like an eleven-year-old girl!”

“Gimme back my phone!” Bucky shouted.

Suddenly, the sound of ringing filled the small space of the kitchen. The scuffling stopped in an instant as everyone tried to figure out where the noise was coming from. Sam glimpsed down at his hands and jumped apart from Bucky as if he’d been burned. He looked horrified!

“Oh, shit!” Sam exclaimed, shoving the phone back at Bucky.

“What did you do?!” Bucky screeched when he realized the ringing was coming from his phone on speaker.

The sound ended abruptly, only to be replaced with the gentle tinkle of a woman’s voice.

“James?”

Chapter Two | Chapter Four

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[writesowhatnext]

how many branches does an olive tree have? // draco malfoy

Summary: Hufflepuff!reader might be the only person that’s shown Draco some actual human kindness… maybe that’s why he’s so fond. Or maybe it’s the desserts.

Request: do u mind writing a draco malfoy or one of the weasley twins hanging out with (and eventually dating) hufflepuff reader and they always return to their common rooms with baked goods/little notes?

A/N: I thought I’d have a bit of fun with this one bc I’ve never written Draco before and I thrive off of slytherinxhufflepuff so I really hope the draco isn’t too ooc and that this isn’t too long also I diverged a little but I hope you like still ++++ this is less proofread than I would’ve liked

Reader: unspecified Hufflepuff

Warnings: mean draco??

It didn’t surprise anyone, least of all you, how much Draco Malfoy disliked you at first. He had a bit of a reputation and whilst you didn’t wish to speak ill of anybody, everybody you knew considered Draco Malfoy to be spoilt, snot-nosed, selfish, haughty and spiteful. But what you noticed whenever he would provoke Harry Potter, or walk through the corridors alone, or sit studying in the library until the early hours, was how sad he looked sometimes. And so, despite the awful things you’d heard about him, you always felt rather soft when you thought of him. Even when he was being a raging arsehole.

“Hi,” you said, smiling from your seat. You were oddly optimisitc about your first lesson with the Slytherins. “I’m Y/N.”

Draco looked at you as if shocked you were even daring to speak to him, his icy blonde eyebrows drawn down and his eyes stormy. “And?”

You leant back when he turned away, clearing your throat and shuffling the parchment around on the table. You decided it wouldn’t be helpful to remind him he wasn’t your first choice of partner in Muggle Studies, either.

“So, your task is to research ten muggle inventions-“ Professor Burbage began, only to be interrupted by Draco.

“Can’t imagine why they want us to do that,” he snorted, his friends sitting behind you hanging off his every word. “Muggles have never invented anything worthwhile.”

His friends guffawed, shocking the professor. You just frowned, watching how Draco thrived off of the attention with a strange sadness.

You didn’t see him again until around a week later when you retreated to the library for a few hours before curfew. You weren’t looking for him, but it was hard not to spot his platinum hair at a table, alone in the back. Shifting your weight from one foot to the other, you debated just going to an empty table and leaving well enough alone, but then you remembered his sad eyes and your feet carried you over to him before you could stop them.

“Hey,” you said, biting your lip as you stood by one of the empty chairs, holding your books tightly. “Would it be alright if I sat here?”

He looked up at you sharply, the same half-confused, half-outraged expression in his eyes. His gaze was steady on your face for a moment before he huffed, returning to his work.

“If you must.”

You sat with him for hours in complete silence, both of you just doing your work. It wasn’t until the table began to shake with the movement of his elbow that you even looked at him. His face was scrunched up into a scowl as tried to scratch the rest of the ink from his empty pot. The sound of the quill hitting against the glass was loud and you knew Madam Pince would be over sometime soon to scold him. You figured that he’d never ask to use your inkpot, far too proud to ask for help, and so you just slid it over gently so it settled in the centre of the table, your intention obvious. His eyes on you were heavy, even as you tried to work out exactly why you would add Valerian Root to Draught of the Living Dead. The clinking of his quill stopped as he stared at you and despite yourself, you glanced up at him and offered a polite smile before turning back to your parchment.

Draco had no idea what to make of it. As he watched you scribbling on some parchment, confusion settled on his brow. Why, he thought, would a Hufflepuff he barely knew offer to help him? Part of him wanted to shove the inkpot back, too stubborn to accept help from someone like you, but the other part of himself, a part he didn’t get along with all too well, told him to shut up and take it.

And as you looked up, shooting him a brief smile that only served to deepen the crease on his forehead, he gave in and dipped his quill into the inkpot without another word. He tried not to look at you after that, sure you would enjoy seeing Draco Malfoy so weak. He could practically feel the ashamed flush on his cheeks and he hated it. But you could tell, despite his gruff façade, that he was grateful because when he stood up to leave, he stared at you for slightly too long as he placed the inkpot nearer to you and all but ran from the library without a single snarky comment or dirty glance.

Thanks only to your determination, that happened a few more times. Sure, Draco made absolutely certain to bring his own inkpot, but he looked less murderous each time you asked to sit down. One cold night with a bitter wind and a Transfiguration test you’d completely forgotten hounding at your heels, you rushed to the library. You were stopped only once on the way directly outside your common room by one of your favourite house-elves, who shoved a mini-basket of cookies into your hands, insisting that you stay warm in the cold temperatures. Whilst you were still panicking about the test, you couldn’t help but feel warm inside at the gift, a smile lifting your cheeks at how sweet it was. You rushed to your usual table, throwing the basket and your bag onto the desk and meandering through the shelves to find any books you could on the history of Transfiguration. Happy with the eight you’d found, and perhaps a little concerned you’d gone overboard, you retreated back to the table, pleasantly surprised to see a familiar mop of platinum blond.

“Hello, Draco,” you said, smiling as you set the books down. He didn’t look at you, only nodding, his focus on a textbook in front of him. You grinned anyway, enjoying the little routine you’d formed with him. It must’ve been only twenty minutes later when you crunched down on one of the biscuits you’d been given, surprised to meet a pair of grey eyes when you looked back up. He frowned at the cookie in your hand as you smiled bashfully, not intending to be caught.

“Oh,” you said, scolding yourself for being rude. “Would you like one?”

His head shot up at your question, that permanent frown still in place. He didn’t answer at first and you were afraid for a moment that you’d broken one of the unspoken rules of your acquaintanceship; the ones that only Draco seemed to know. To say you were shocked when he nodded very subtly was an understatement, but anyone with half a brain could tell how glad you were as you offered him the basket.

He looked down at the cookie in his long, pale hand as if it would bite him back. Before he ate it, though, he settled his wrists on the edge of the table and stared at you with a curiosity you’d never seen on him before.

“It’s Y/N, right?” he asked, wetting his lips.

“Yeah,” you nodded quickly, stunned that he’d remembered. You watched him think for a moment; you could almost see the cogs turning in his brain as he broke off a piece of the biscuit and brought it to his lips. It was obvious that he was deciding something but you didn’t understand what until he met your eyes again.

“Did you make these?”

His voice was stiff and unsure and you could tell how out of his depth he felt, whether it was saying more than two words to you or attempting small talk that was so unfamiliar you couldn’t say.

“No, one of the house-elves gave them to me.”

“House-elves?” he said, voice full of disgust. You frowned.

“The little creatures that work in the kitchens.”

“I know what they are,” he hissed, scowling. He swallowed harshly when he saw your face fall and for a second, he regretted his venom. “So, you’re- you’re what? Friends with them?”

As abhorrent as the idea clearly seemed to him, you appreciated how conflicted he looked, vindicated slightly at the sight of Draco Malfoy actually considering someone else’s feelings.

“Yep, they’re lovely,” you beamed, stirring something inside him. “And ever so kind.”

He just nodded, biting into the biscuit you’d given him and mulling over what you’d told him. Him saying nothing, you decided, was certainly leagues better than saying something horrible.

When he left that day, you made sure to force him to take a few more cookies, well aware that you couldn’t eat them all on your own and hoping more than anything that he’d accept it as an offering of friendship.

“Take more, please, go on.”

“I don’t…“ he trailed off, looking at you with a guarded expression.

“Please?” you begged, lifting the basket towards him. “For me?”

His eyes darted to yours as he inspected your pouting features and wide eyes, a strange fondness pulling at his chest. The way his mouth curled up ever so slightly before it was replaced with his signature grimace didn’t escape you and you grinned as he grabbed a few more, filling his pockets. He took a couple steps away before stopping short and spinning on his heel to face you.

“Thank you,” he nodded, looking very out of place, his words rushed and foreign. You didn’t mind, though, as he walked away. You just sat there, head in your books and a growing smile on your lips. You’d have to bring more desserts, you thought.

No one had confused Draco Malfoy quite like you. Not even Potter had the same irritating effect on him. And unfortunately, despite his efforts, people were starting to notice.

“Draco, what are you staring at?” Pansy asked him during breakfast, drawing his eyes away from your laughing face, your bright yellow tie.

“Nothing,” he huffed. “What are you looking at?”

Annoyance sparked in him as they laughed at his poor attempt to deflect the question.

“Is it that Hufflepuff you’re always eyeing?” Pansy pressed, an undercurrent of jealousy behind her wary curiosity.

“What?” his eyes flicked back to see you smile at him and once again, a strange feeling flooded his system.

“Don’t be stupid,” he said with much less bite than he usually would’ve. “What would I want with a Hufflepuff?”

As they laughed, moving on to another topic, he asked himself the same thing.

The next few times you saw Draco properly were in the library; he would only talk to you there, lest someone saw you and his precious reputation be ruined. You didn’t care about someone seeing you spending time together, but you let it be given how important it was to him. It was hard to say that it didn’t bother you at all, though, especially with how well you and he seemed to get along, particularly when you brought him treats. First, it was just whatever the house-elves would be kind enough to give you; biscuits here, a slice or two of cake there. When you noticed that Draco seemed to have a taste for chocolate, you started making specific requests, always making sure to give the elves clothes and some company in return. Seeing Draco walk out of the library with full pockets and a barely suppressed smile was the highlight of your day and it had, surprisingly, become an everyday occurrence. You would even go as far as to call you and Draco friends.

“Y/N,” Draco said, frowning as he wrote his Astronomy essay. You hummed, looking up to see his eyes on you. Your heart warmed at how comfortable and relaxed he looked, a far cry from how tense he’d been to start with.

“Do you know which constellation that old bat Sinistra told us to include?”

You rolled your eyes at his name-calling, shaking your head. “Nope, sorry, I’m absolutely hopeless at Astronomy. Haven’t even started the essay.”

He grimaced for a moment before pausing and brushing at the feathers of his quill nervously with his thumb.

“I could help you,” he said, gauging your reaction. “My Father says Astronomy is a subject so useless that even muggles can do it-“ he stopped himself then. He wasn’t quite sure why he cared what you thought of him, but he knew you well enough to know that you wouldn’t appreciate him talking badly about muggles and so, even though everything he’d ever said was just a regurgitation of his Father’s words, he clamped his mouth shut.

“I’m quite good at it,” he said, softer this time. “I’d be happy to teach you a thing or two.”

In all fairness to you, whilst you knew that Draco had the capacity for kindness, you didn’t quite expect him to extend it to you and certainly not enough to answer his offer with anything but a series of blinks. He was growing nervous at your lack of reply, already thinking about how foolish he’d been to even offer. Why was he even hanging around with a Hufflepuff anyways? If his father found out, he would be furious-

“I’d love that,” you said gently, interrupting his downward spiral. He visibly perked up at your response and even his face looked younger as you drew your first full smile from him. You couldn’t help but think that he looked rather more handsome when he smiled.  

“Alright,” he said, nodding. “Meet you at the Astronomy Tower tonight?”

He noticed your reluctance, frowning immediately.

“What if we get caught?”

You expected his cocky grin even less than you expected his offer in the first place.

“It’ll be fine.” he said, before his face softened. “Trust me.”

The rest of the day, you tried to convince yourself that you were nervous at breaking curfew and not at the prospect of seeing Draco outside your usual library hours. As you crept towards the Tower, flinching and ducking away from every sound that echoed through the castle corridors, you pulled at your jumper, stretching it over your hands with nervous fingers. You were barely halfway through the doorway when something behind you made a loud thudding noise and you turned, not paying enough attention as you slammed into someone. A squeak left your mouth at the impact but before you could make more of a racket, a hand covered your lips and you were left staring up at Draco Malfoy, shocked that you hadn’t noticed quite how tall he was before.

He looked at you with dark eyes and you realised that even without his hand covering your mouth, you wouldn’t have been able to breathe anyway, not with him looming over you like that. As if it didn’t faze him at all, he pulled his hand away from your mouth to his lips, shushing you gently. You nodded, not trusting your voice. Beckoning you to follow him up the stairs, you shadowed him quietly, distracting yourself with the view. When you reached the top, you lunged towards one of the windows, gasping as you looked at the whole of Hogwarts beneath you.

“It’s beautiful,” you whispered, leaning over the stone windowsill, your face against the wind. Draco didn’t say anything for a moment.

“You look different without your robes.”

You turned to him, surprised to see him watching you so intently. Not knowing what to say, you just smiled. He cleared his throat.

“Let’s get started.”

You started off well-intentioned, listening to him dutifully explain the difference between Ursa Major and Minor, the story of Andromeda and what not, but you couldn’t help but get distracted by the view, the stars spread out around you.

“Are you even listening?” he asked, eyebrows raised. You smiled bashfully at getting caught, feeling your cheeks heat up.

“Of course, I am,” you insisted, placing your palm on his bicep, a touch that didn’t go unnoticed. “Carry on.”

He stared at you for a moment, shaking his head. A fond smile pulled at his lips as he stood up, offering you his hand. You hesitated before taking it, letting him haul you to your feet. With your hands still intertwined, he dragged you over to the edge of the tower, pulling you so you leant on your elbows next to him, your arms touching. It seemed as if you were both avoiding ignoring the feeling fo your palms pressed together.

“That,” he said, pointing up to a series of stars with his free hand. “Is Draco.”

You looked at him as he stared up at his namesake, watching his expression flood with a pride.

“The dragon,” you whispered, eyes widening as his head swung around, leaving the both of you closer together than anticipated. He let himself examine your face, taking in every detail, from your brow to your cheeks to your lips; ever so slowly, memorising every curve.

“I’ve never met anyone like you,” he said, his eyes soft. You bit the inside of your cheek, smiling slightly.

“No one else brings you cakes? That’s a tragedy.”

He huffed a laugh, the corners of his lips curling up.

“I’m inclined to agree.”

harry potter tag list:

@creator-appreciator​

@decadentwastelandtrash

@loveisblindness​

@xinyourdreamsx​

@brainlesspasta​

@hariosborn​

@staringmoony​

@rexorangecouny​

@alittletoomanyobsessions​

@peachesandpinks​

[i-will-physically-fight-you]

Gibbous Chapter 9

Chapter Title: The Thought of Fresh Meat Is Making Me Ill

Summary:  It was October. A month full of cheer for the macabre. A month where humans gleefully wore the skins of those they saw as monsters. A month that Virgil generally enjoyed. It was the one month out of the year where he felt the most alive. Yet somehow, for this year’s October, he felt dead inside. Like his body had turned into the rotting corpse of a zombie and his soul was somehow still trapped inside.

Pairings: platonic lamp & platonic sleepxiety

Chapter Word-Count: 5503

Warnings:  Verbal/Emotional Abuse, Anxiety, Depression, Paranoia, Arguing, Disassociation, Sensory Overload (Yeah this one isn't gonna be a particularly happy one, Virgil Is Spiraling Mentally Big Time)

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Surprise b*tch, bet you thought you saw the last of me! I'm back for my yearly update--this chapter is dedicated to all the lovely comments people have left on previous chapter! Also!! I rewrote a significant amount of Crescent Chapter 3 and added onto Gibbous Chapter 5, the latter you might want to reread as it adds a bit to the opening scene of this chapter.

Chapter title taken from "I know I'm a Wolf" from the Young Heretics!

-

In books, there was always a perfect, logical sense of progression. Stories were generally told in a three-act structure. The setup, the midpoint and the resolution. The beginning of a story established the protagonist to the reader. It gave you details about their personality, their way of living, their wants and desires. Then the protagonist found themselves upended by an inciting incident.

Something that caused their way of living to never again be the same. Tension grew and grew as they sought to come about a way to continue living. Until it reached a climax, one where after which, they either thrived or withered away. In which case, the story ended as the protagonist returned to a new sense of normalcy.

One that would last until the next inciting incident came along to shake up their world once again.

Once one found this pattern, it was hard to ever see stories the same way again. There were certain things to always expect—things you could decipher before the story’s end. Real life, however, wasn’t quite like that.

Or at least this was what Logan had come to find. Sure, in many ways events in life played out like stories. There was an inciting incident, something that arose tension as one sought to solve the dilemma. It just wasn’t as neatly bound together like a story or even a math equation. Life was messy, complicated—it threw in plot twists or details that critics would claim lazy and unbelievable.

Logan was harshly reminded of this in the case of one Virgil Raine. He couldn’t understand—he was doing everything right, remaining patient and giving Virgil a chance to open up to Logan on his own time. Yet the human shied further and further away, all development he made since working at the library immediately erased. Virgil even shut out all notions of spending time outside work without explanation. It’d been weeks at this point with no result despite the attempts of Logan, Patton and even Remy, who was arguably the closet with Virgil.

Perhaps this was something that should be expected. Virgil rarely spoke about his past, but what little he shared, he had to fend mostly for his own from a young age. Whoever hurt Virgil caused him to believe again he couldn't rely on anyone but himself.

Logan was not a particularly violent person. He'd been ignorantly cruel once upon a time, yes, but even back then he wasn't one to have the urge to kill people. The wolfish part of him begged to differ, as always. His instincts howled at him to find that person and tear them limb to limb. Better yet, they demanded he snatch Virgil away and bring him against his will to the pack, to safety. As much as Logan wanted this, logically he knew Virgil might never fully trust Patton or himself ever again despite their good intentions. Illogically, he couldn’t bring himself to do the one thing he swore he’d never do again, even if it was for Virgil's safety.

He pondered this, sitting in front of a mountain of paperwork. It was late, too late for him to still be at the library. He couldn’t bring himself to move from his desk, not until he figured something out. He gnashed sharpened teeth in agitation, gripping his hair with claw-like fingernails. It didn't help that normally this time of the month, his cognitive thinking skills were usually in a different state of being. If he wasn't careful, the cleaning staff might find a wolf rampant in the library the next morning.

His phone rang just then, some meme-related ringtone Roman picked out that he’d found funny. Logan snatched it up and answered it.

“Patton, listen, I will be home soon I am just finishing up—”

“I’m not Patton,” The person on the other line cut in, “It’s me, Remy.”

“Oh,” Logan cleared his throat, thrown off by this revelation, “is something the matter?”

“Yeah, something’s the matter alright,” Remy said, his voice hoarse, “I fucked up big time with Virgil.”

 -

It was October. A month full of cheer for the macabre. A month where humans gleefully wore the skins of those they saw as monsters. A month that Virgil generally enjoyed. It was the one month out of the year where he felt the most alive. Yet somehow, for this year’s October, he felt dead inside. Like his body had turned into the rotting corpse of a zombie and his soul was somehow still trapped inside.

He supposed it had something to do with how September slipped from his fingers much in the way that his phone slipped from Jerad’s fingers. Falling all the way down, down, down, breaking upon the asphalt below into a million tiny pieces. Tried as he might, the memory haunted him in the waking world as well as his dreams.

 Only, in his dreams, sometimes it was him that fell to the ground. Like a shoddy version of Humpty Dumpty. Remy, Patton and Logan would try to fix him to no avail. They’d always leave, scoffing that it wasn’t worth it. He couldn’t cry or reach out towards them, begging for them to return. He could only lay there, broken and bleeding, watching as they abandoned him. Sometimes Roman showed up to gloat, mocking him for thinking they ever cared for him.

The worst thing about it? He knew it was going to happen in real life. It was only a matter of time. Even Jerad knew this.

“C’mon, you really want to hang out with them and not me, your friend?” Jerad scoffed, “what have they done for you? Have they helped out you when you couldn’t pay rent? Replaced your shitty phone for the best smartphone out there?”

“Well no but—”

“Face it, V-Man, they’re using you. They set you up with a new job, making you beholden to them and it’s sickening! They don’t actually care about you. Once they’ve had their fun jerking you around, they’ll just throw you out with the garbage. And I don’t want you coming to me, bawling like a baby, when it happens!”

As much as Jerad was a jerk, Virgil knew deep down he was right. He’d been so ecstatic at their displays of friendship, he didn’t even stop to consider it was all a façade. Maybe they themselves thought it was real, that they actually cared for him. But eventually they’ll realize the truth. That he’s a loser and nothing more.

Or maybe they already knew the truth and were merely toying with him. Virgil was just a human, mortal through and through. Remy, Patton and Logan were all near-immortal, unkillable save a well-placed piece of silver and a stake of wood in Remy’s case. At least with Jerad, he was honest. He knew Virgil was a loser and made it clear he only hung out with Virgil because it was better than nothing.

Jerad had been nice to Virgil lately—or nice as Jerad could be at least. He’d insisted on occasionally giving Virgil rides to and from work. An offer Virgil couldn’t refuse—no matter how hard his heart thudded against his chest with Jerad’s sharp swerves and his blaring car radio. He taken to asking about Virgil’s day even, asking where he’d been and what he’d been doing. He even took Virgil out to bars and clubs in an attempt to get him to loosen up.

Virgil wanted to tell him he’d rather set himself on fire than willingly enter a noisy nightclub. However every time his lips went to form those words, he found himself saying yes always. So that was how he found himself dissociating in a noisy nightclub, holding onto a pink-colored alcoholic beverage he faked taking a sip from.

A hand knocked jokingly against his forehead. “Yo, Virgin!”

Virgil blinked, his gaze blearily onto Jerad. It was hard to concentrate with all the flashing lights and loud music. He wanted to crawl underneath his beloved purple fleece blanket in his dark, silent bedroom and never leave. But he couldn’t leave just yet. Jerad had been nice to take him along to the club. If he’d asked leave now, he’d get upset. He knew eventually Jerad would get upset at him for something, but he preferred to delay that as long as possible.

“Yeah?” Virgil mumbled, curling his fingers tighter around the alcoholic drink that had been hoisted upon him. Jerad knew he didn’t like alcohol—it was something he ridiculed Virgil about constantly. He always insisted on Virgil drinking, saying he’d stop being a pussy and man up eventually about it.

“Are you high or something? You looked like you were seeing into the third dimension or something.”

Virgil shrugged. Jerad laughed at that, patting him on the back. Virgil tensed from each thud of Jerad’s hand, but he did not flinch or move away. It was a friendly gesture on Jerad’s part. If he wanted to really hurt Virgil, he would’ve put more force behind it.

“Probably not! You’re too much of an anxious wimp,” Jerad said, downing the contents of his drink, “but let me know if you ever get man enough to try it—your good friend Jerad has connections.”

“Okay.” Virgil said, his voice sounding far off in the distance to his own ears.

Jerad laughed again, and then started rambling about something probably among the lines of his most recent hookup, his parents being jerks for not giving him a new sports car or the latest college professor he deemed a complete idiot. Virgil stared at him, nodding all the right moments yet barely processed any of the words being directed his way.

 Even with lungs filled with air and a warm beating heart, Virgil felt nothing. He was nothing. A worthless sentient waste of space. Like an ugly mutt nobody wanted that should be euthanized to end its miserable existence.

His phone—the replacement one Jerad gave him—vibrated in his pocket. A text, no doubt from one of the others. The fourth one this night. Virgil’s hand twitched, refraining from looking at it in the presence of Jerad. Virgil didn’t feel like losing a second phone within a month of the first.

“Um, hey,” Virgil interrupted, wincing, “I gotta go use the bathroom, is that alright?”

“’Is that alright?’” Jerad mimicked in a high pitch tone, “Dude, is this elementary school or something? You want a hall pass? Me to hold your hand the whole way there?”

Virgil stared at him.

Jerad rolled his eyes, “Go ahead, whatever. I don’t care if you take a dump, just be quick with it.”

“Thanks.” Virgil bit out, running off before Jerad could change his mind.

He twisted and pivoted around the crowd of sweaty, glistening bodies wearing skimpy clothing. The bright neon lights and loud music warped around him like something out of a nightmare. Eventually he made it to the restrooms and locked himself in the nearest stall. The pulse of his heart roaring in his ears, he drew the phone of his pocket.

Four New Text Notifications from Patton

Patton: [Image of a black cat that looked approximately a year old. It appeared to be nestled close to Patton’s chest, staring up at the camera in wide-eyed stare.]

Patton: Look at what I found on my evening walk! Isn’t she the cutest??

Patton: I’m trying to convince Logan to let me keep her. Maybe you can come visit tomorrow and meet her??

Patton: It’s ok if not! I know you’ve been busy and I want to let you know I’m here for you, you can come to me about anything okay?

Virgil’s vision blurred a bit. He didn’t understand it. Why hadn’t Patton given up already? It’s been weeks since he’s sent Patton a text. He’d been terrified, too, really. And in the few times he ran into Patton at the library, he made excuses and scurried the other way.

Logan was at least kind enough to exchange a few pleasantries and keep their verbal interactions work-oriented. And Remy? They still delved deep into discussions about their taste in music but there was an awkward unspoken agreement not to bring up what happened that one morning. Virgil also shied from hanging outside of work, hoping Remy would eventually forget about him. It seemed to be working; Remy hadn’t offered to hang out in about a week or so.

But Patton? Patton seemed determined to stay in contact with Virgil, sending his dumb silly memes and cute animal videos. He sent good morning and good night texts, while making sure Virgil knew he could respond to them on his own time. On one hand, it made sense—this was the same Patton who saved a complete stranger’s life for literally no reason. On the other hand, he wished Patton would give up. It would made things easier, make it hurt less for everyone.

His phone buzzed with a new text notification.

Jerad: Dude, did you fall in or something?

Virgil swallowed, wiping away any stupid tears running down his face. As he typed a response to Jerad with shaky hands, the bathroom door slammed open, banging against the wall. He almost dropped his phone in the process, silently cursing at how close he’d been to breaking yet another phone.

Several loud booming voices filled the bathroom, peppered with obnoxious laughter every half second. Virgil shut his eyes, resisting the urge to cover his ears also in the process. The noise was too much. It was too much in the club outside, but all those voices echoing off the small crammed walls of the bathroom made Virgil want to scream.

The door creaked open yet again, the voices venturing away from Virgil. Good, they were leaving so Virgil could finally self-destruct in peace. Or so he thought, as a set of footsteps stopped abruptly, wavering. The club music blasted from the doorway, drowning out whatever discussion took place.

Then the door swung shut, the roaring club music muted once more. Virgil waited, breath catching in his throat as the single set of footsteps took a couple strides towards him. Oh god, this was how he was going to die, wasn’t he? This was probably some serial killer with an obsession of killing people in night club restrooms.

This was, of course, the moment his phone started vibrating in his hand. A call. Someone was calling him in the final moments of his life. Virgil looked down at the caller id; Remy. His heartrate spiked, dancing so painfully close to what a heart attack must feel like. Why was Remy calling him? Was he at last going to tell him he was done with Virgil forever?

Virgil almost wanted to ignore the call. But then he glanced at the black boots hovering near his stall and gave it a second thought. If this was going to be how his life ended, it’d probably be best to say goodbye to someone at least. Sucking a breath in, he pressed the green phone icon and held the phone to his ears.

“Hi?” He whispered.

“Hey Virgil,” Remy said, echoing oddly in Virgil’s ears, “what are you up to tonight?”

Virgil glanced down at the black boots menacingly close to his stall, “Umm, I’m just home, chilling.”

“That’s a lie, Hon. I know you’re hiding in a stall of this bathroom.”

“W-what are you talking about?” Virgil couldn’t breathe.

Remy sighed, sounding so similar to the person outside the stall, “Please, let’s talk face to face, alright?”

This was some sort of trick to lure him out of the stall, wasn’t it? Still, with the hand not clutching tightly to his phone, he reached out and unlatched the stall door.

Remy stood there, expression hidden under his black shades. His hair was slicked back with gel, shimmering with a glitter of some sort. He wore his iconic black leather jacket with a black crop top underneath. His whole outfit was black, in fact, down to his ripped jeans and the ankle-length boots. Virgil had seen him wear something similar before to a college event he’d taken Virgil to.

“W-what are you doing here?” Virgil demanded.

“I could ask you the same,” Remy responded, eyebrows raised above his shades, “this isn’t your scene, Virge. What are you doing here?”

“I’m not answering unless you answer.” Virgil said, trying to ignore how much he sounded like a toddler.

“A few of my homies from the art program wanted to celebrate the end of mid-terms. This is the night club most of the college body hangs at.” Remy crossed his arms.

“And how did you know I was in here?”

“A few keen observations,” Remy mustered a thin smile. He tapped his nose for emphasis before drawing his finger close to his lips. Virgil’s eyes widened in understanding. Vampire senses, then. “But mostly, I’d recognize those faded converse of yours anywhere.”

“O-oh.”

“I answered your question, now it’s your turn, Virge.”

“I…” Virgil said, the rest of his words strangled in his throat. His phone buzzed in his hand; another impatient text from Jerad no doubt. He didn’t bother to look at it, choosing to focus on taking a breath in rather than going unconscious from a lack of oxygen.

He could tell Remy the truth. That he’d gone with Jerad—his roommate whom he used to complain to Remy about all the time. But then Remy would ask why he was with Jerad and then—well. Then Virgil would have tell him what happened the time he found him the night his phone broke and well, Virgil wasn’t ready for that. He couldn’t tell Remy about his humiliating mistake.

“I…went here to have a good time completely by myself.” Virgil withheld himself from wincing because wow that didn’t sound weird or suspicious in the slightest, “So you can go catch up with your friends or whatever, I’m good hanging out right here.”

“Right here, in the restroom?”

“Yeah.”

“Honey,” Remy said, his voice washed with some emotion Virgil couldn’t identify, “Let’s ditch this shithole and go somewhere else.”

“W-what—but your friends—” Virgil stammered.

“—will be fine without me. N-G-L they’ll probably too trying to give themselves alcohol poison even realize I’m gone,” Remy shrugged his shoulders, “besides, you don’t seem as gucci as you say you are in here and it’s been a while since we really hung out hung out, y’know?”

Virgil stubbornly directed his gaze away from Remy, jaw tightening. It had to be okay, didn’t it? Jerad was most likely to get too drunk to even coherent colors, let alone that Virgil slipped off without him. Maybe he wouldn’t be mad. Maybe he wouldn’t fly into a rage and come close to hanging him off a balcony. Besides Remy would be even more suspicious if he said no.

Virgil sighed, holding the home button on the phone until it shut off completely. That way he wouldn’t have to deal with Jerad calling him, demanding to know where he’d disappear off to, despite ditching Virgil all the time without warning.

“Alright, fine.”

Remy smiled, his teeth looking a little too sharp for Virgil’s liking. Wordlessly he turned aside and reached for the bathroom door.

Virgil swallowed, shoving the phone in his pocket to be forgotten about. Tried as he might, he still flinched as lively blare of the club’s music and flashing lights greeted him with full force. He froze, cowering before the threshold of the door. A hand landed on his shoulder, soft and gentle.

“Virgil?” Remy asked, his brows furrowing together.

Molten lava settled in the pit of Virgil’s stomach—pity. That was the expression on Remy’s face he couldn’t identify at first. He didn’t want pity; Virgil knew what pity meant. He didn’t want pity of any kind, it reminded him too much of the foster parents that looked at him like he was some feral dog that could be whipped into obedience. And sure, Remy had never hurt him but it didn’t mean Virgil forgotten about that morning spent at Remy’s dorm a month back.

Eyes lit up with a burning, controlled fire. Words hissed through a clenching jaw, “Tell me their name and I’ll beat them up for you.”

If Remy was willing to hurt who he deemed as threats to Virgil, who’s to say he wouldn’t be willing to hurt Virgil? To reprimand Virgil, to let him know how much of an idiot he was being? It sounded absurd, even now, because he’d known Remy for almost a year. Remy had plenty opportunities up to now to do something and hadn’t. Yet he was a vampire; years were nothing to him. He had plenty of time to wait for Virgil to slip up in some way and make his irritation known.

And Virgil knew by now to expect the other shoe to drop in a relationship—it was why he distanced himself, isolated himself to solely to work and his cramped little room at the apartment. He was foolish to believe Remy, Patton and Logan were different. Logan and Patton especially—what was he thinking? Patton saved him, sure, but Logan had been hellbent on locking him in their basement for the eternity of time. Why had ever he allowed himself to accept their apologies, to believe something was going right in his life for once?

“I’m fine.” Virgil snarled, shoving himself forward. It was like marching into a warzone, the music assaulted his ears and rattled uncomfortably against his chest cavity. He grimaced, keeping his eyes towards the floor, away from the flashing lights. He stopped a bit before the ocean of bodies that stood between them and the entrance.

He knew if he looked up, he could make out the back of Jerad’s shirt from his spot at the bar. Stupid, this was so stupid. Why had he allowed himself to get talk into this by Remy? There was no doubt in his mind that Jerad would catch him trying to leave and rightfully demand why he was ditching him for Remy. It was a shit thing to do, after all.

Friends don’t ditch one another without explanation. Jerad left him, sure, but he always had an explanation after the fact. Virgil didn’t think Jerad would like his explanation very much. Especially when it involved Remy, one of the people Jerad had been trying to warn him about.

A hand gracefully looped itself around one of his own, tugging him off to the side rather than through the crowd. Virgil looked to see Remy guiding them towards a set of doors, ones clearly marked for employees only.

“Remy—”

“Shhh, this is a faster way outta here, trust me.” He said, flashing a smile. Perhaps it was meant to be comforting but for Virgil it only caused his stomach to churn.

Right before they made it to the doors, an employee materialized in front of them. “Excuse me, sirs, you’re not allowed back here—”

“Cindy, gurl, remember me, Lansing? Worked here last summer? Do you remember, yeah?” Remy lowered his shades to take a look at her. Virgil peered behind him, unable to view Remy’s face. He could see Cindy’s face, however. Her face pinched up in confusion, frowning, before abruptly smoothening out with a wide grin stretched from ear-to-ear. She looked right at Remy, her gaze shifting entirely off of Virgil as if he no longer existed.

“Lansing, oh! Oh yes, I remember.” Cindy said, with a high-pitched laugh. Virgil shrunk further back into Remy’s shadow, squeezing Remy’s hand tightly. Something was wrong and he didn’t like it. Remy never mentioned working as a bartender—and that wasn’t quite something Remy would be quiet about. Virgil could just  picture the outrageous bartending stories he’d have if that was the case.

Remy laughed along with her, light and airy.

“Good, then can ya do a fellow former co-bartender a favor and let us slip through, just this once?”

“Gurl, of course, just if you caught don’t let Gregory know I was the one that let you pass.” She leaned in conspiratorially, face twitching a bit.

“Oh don’t worry, you won’t see us again, in fact forget that you even saw us. I’d love to stay and catch up, but I bet you have things to do.”

She laughed again at that. “Yes, of course. It was nice seeing you, Lansing, but I have to go.”

Cindy hurried off, quickly dissipating through the crowd. Virgil blinked; what the fuck? What the fuck was that—

He didn’t even have time to process the encounter before Remy led them into the dimly lit back hallway of the nightclub. Whether it was a faster way out of the nightclub was debatable. For all his talk about previously working there, Remy seemed just as lost as Virgil in the winding hallway. He led them one direction, only to immediately pivot down the other way.

Remy wasn’t talking. Remy was always talking endlessly, as if speaking was as vital as oxygen to him. He was terrible at whispering too—something Logan would get on him about at the library. That was why he was usually stuck on front desk duty to speak with patrons, helping out at events or doing organizational work in the back office. For Remy to be this silent, like the brooding calm before a storm, well. Virgil’s lungs wanted to seize up right then and there.

Eventually, they made to a door that opened out to an alleyway, right where the night club kept its dumpster. The moon gleamed from her perch in the sky, nearly full but not quite. Like a cookie with a bite taken out of it. Virgil knew there was terms for the different phases of the moon. His mother loved taking him out to see the night sky. She’d point out the constellations and tell him what phase the moon that night was.

He wished he could remember, for her sake, what they were. Considering he knew actual werewolves, you’d think he pay better attention to it. But it was a topic Virgil never felt brave enough to venture and one that neither Patton nor Logan opened up much on their own about.

He stared at the moon, transfixed, that he almost forgotten the reason he was outside in the first place. Not until Remy murmured something before attempting to lead him off somewhere. The gaping dread from moments prior seized hold of him once more.

“No!” Virgil snapped, yanking his hand out of Remy’s grip. He stumbled backwards a few steps, slamming himself into a wall of the building in the process.

“Virgil?” Remy asked, frowning as he took a step  forward.

“What the hell was that back there?”

“What do you mean—”

“Don’t act stupid!” Virgil demanded, taking a shaky breath, “That lady—Cindy—you did something, I—I don’t know, she was acting weird! And—and you were acting weird! So I’m asking again; What. The Hell. Was. That?”

Remy stared at him, his breath hitching, “Virgil, I was just trying to get you to a quiet place ASAP before you—”

“You’re still not answering the question.” Virgil cut in, his intestines tightening themselves into knots over it. Because maybe this was just a classic case of Virgil paranoia striking again. Maybe he really was driving himself into a panic attack over nothing. Maybe he was accusing Remy unjustly.

Yet, if that was the case why would Remy flinch if Virgil struck him physically with his words?

“Virgil,” Remy said slowly, “I need you not to panic and hear me out, ok?”

Virgil’s heartrate accelerated. Not panic, not panic?! What did Remy expect but for him to panic at those words?

“Okay.” Virgil said, definitely panicking.

“What have you’ve heard about vamps?”

“That they—you drink blood. And your reflection doesn’t show up in mirrors—and—and if you get bitten by a vampire, you’ll either turn into one or get mind controlled.”

“All technically true, well I mean—there’s a fuck-ton more to the turning process than that—” Remy cut himself off, “That’s beside the point. The point is, what you call mind-control, we call ‘enthralling.’ Enthralling is…”

“Is what?”

“Enthralling is, well. It’s a form of hypnosis. Anyone enthralled by a vampire is mostly aware of it and the least likely they are to follow a vampire’s suggestions, the more likely they are to fight against the hypnosis. And it can be activated through eye-contact which is what I did to Cindy.”

Virgil couldn’t breathe. Suddenly pieces were slotted together in mind, forming a picture Virgil never wanted to envision. That faint but visceral memory of Remy with red eyes, the natural charisma Remy held with anyone he met, how Remy managed to steal confidential information from Virgil’s employee file in the back office of Kirby’s Burgers—all of it. He thought Remy, out of anybody, was safe. Past his sassy, laidback exterior, Remy was honest, willing to speak his mind about anything and everything.

If Remy enthralled a complete stranger without blinking an eye—who’s to say he wasn’t above doing it to Virgil? Who’s to say he hadn’t enthralled Virgil into being his friend? Who’s to say Virgil wasn’t an oblivious mouse in a game of cat and mouse? Oh gods, this had just confirmed all of Virgil’s worst fears and more.

“Virgil—” Remy said, reaching out, his eyes hidden beneath his shades. He continued speaking, a mumble jumbo string of excuses probably. Virgil couldn’t stand to stay around and listen to it.

“Stop—just don’t—” Virgil stuttered, taking one step and then another towards the open sidewalk. What was just a few steps then became a few hundred until he found himself leaning against the door to the apartment, hands shaking to slot the key to unlock it.

A few more steps he was inside, the usual musty smell an unexpected comfort. He sat on the couch, seconds stretching into eternity. He half-expected Remy to have chased after him, demanding Virgil to listen, why couldn’t you just listen, you’re so stupid no wonder you’re pathetic—

Virgil blinked a few times, his eyes burning with some sort of irritation. For some reason, Remy let him go. He couldn’t decide if that was a good or bad thing. His head ached and so did his ears for some reason.

 Jerad entered the apartment a few millennia later. Virgil froze at the rattling doorknob, his hand clutching onto his phone in his pocket.

“There you are, you fucker!” Jerad drawled, stumbling over in a drunken stupor. His hand moved towards Virgil, but not with a closed fist. Instead he patted him on the back like earlier, “I can’t believe you did it! You finally got the balls to go and hook up with somebody! I guess I can’t call you Virgin, now huh?”

“Uh-huh,” Virgil murmured, not correcting him on that assumption. He sat there, a bit of tension draining from him. Jerad wasn’t mad for abandoning him. Jerad was still a jerk, but at least Virgil mostly knew what to expect of him. It wasn’t ideal, but that was life. It was better to deal with the devil you knew, then the devil you didn’t know. Virgil was stupid to have ever thought otherwise.

“My parents are being such dicks at the moment,” Jerad said, precipitously changing topics as per usual of him, “sometimes I wish I didn’t have to wait until they were dead to take my inheritance and do what I want to do, y’know?”

Virgil didn’t really know. Did his parents leave him money? They had to have had some sort of savings stashed away. A life insurance of some sort, right? It wasn’t like they were poor. He never thought about inquiring into that. Jerad accidentally slapped Virgil across the arm with a huge hand gesture, still ranting about something. Maybe it wasn’t an accidental hit.

Virgil didn’t know. His tether on reality felt weak, like a balloon close to floating away into the stratosphere. He almost wished he could float away, but the weight in his chest said otherwise. Jerad passed out not long after his rant, slumped half on the floor and half on the sofa. Virgil took this opportunity to slip into the comfort of his bedroom and turn on his cellphone once more.

 Seventeen new text notifications and five missed calls from Jerad greeted him, along with one new text notification from Logan. He clicked on Logan’s and his conversation, staring at Logan’s text at the bottom of it.

Logan: Virgil, Remy wanted me to inform you that he is taking a leave of absence from work. Please let me know if you need to take a leave of absence as well or need to confide in somebody as a friend, Patton or I would be happy to listen.

Virgil stared at it some more. Then he tapped out a short response, set the phone on the stool that was his makeshift nightstand and collapsed headfirst into his mattress. 

Virgil: K thanks, I’m fine

-

A/N: Hope everyone is doing well, if you enjoyed the chapter please consider leaving a comment--it's completely free and helps me out as a fanfic writer a ton! I'm technically not in the Sanders Sides fandom anymore, but I still have a lotta fondness for this fic and I will finish it, even if takes me ten years to do so :') -Kat

[rosemary-writes]

What are you afraid to see?: Part 5

(Dwayne x GN! Reader)

An: I held this off for a week because we had bad tornados at college and I couldn’t work on anything. I’ll keep trying to upload on Saturdays. Also this chapter is a bit shorter than usual.

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: flowers, swearing (I think), and some talk of ill nature.

The two of you had walked on to the boardwalk and into the big crowd. It seemed like there were more people out tonight. To avoid bumping into someone, you moved a bit closer to Dwayne. He didn’t seem to mind it and you almost caught a smirk on his face.

“So, what brought you to Santa Carla?” Dwayne asked, guiding the both of you through the crowd.

“Well, the college here is great and I wanted to try something new by traveling here.” You replied, as you two continued to walk.

That wasn’t the entire truth but, he didn’t need to know that. While the college was absolutely amazing, there was something else that brought you Santa Carla. It wasn’t something that you could pinpoint. The feeling was like waking up and immediately forgetting your dream, but you could still feel the emotions from it. You had told your friends about it and they all had brought up the idea that maybe your soulmate led you here. However, the feeling was unique and different for everyone, just like their eventual kiss. So, you didn't dwell on the feeling too much.

“I always heard good things about the schools around here. I’ve met some people who went to the college and they always had good things to say.” Dwayne said, as he pulled you up to a booth.

Immediately, the concessionaire came over to try and persuade you two to play a few games. You began to pull out your wallet but Dwayne beat you to it. He paid the concessionaire and they passed back three tennis balls.

You unlinked your arm from Dwayne as he handed you two of the tennis balls. They looked worn and some of their green fuzz had been stripped off. For a second, you wondered if they had ever been cleaned. You brushed off the thought and looked back to Dwayne as he threw one of the balls into the empty bottles on the shelves. The ball missed the top bottle by a few inches but, there was a dent in the wall from where the ball hit. You passed Dwayne another ball as the concessionaire said a teasing comment about his aim. His face was still as he ignored the remark and threw the ball. This time he hit the bottles in the center of the stack. You smiled at his little victory and the concessionaire applauded his win. “Would you like to try to hit another stack and gain another prize?” they asked, looking at you.

“Yeah, I’ll do it.” You said, looking at Dwayne. He had a smirk on his face as he watched you get into position to throw the ball. For a few seconds, you steadied your body and focused on where you wanted the ball to hit. You swung your arm back and flung the ball forward. The pyramid of bottles fell and you felt a sense of pride in your chest. The concessionaire applauded you and pulled out two keychains from under the counter.

They handed you one and gave Dwayne the other. You looked down at the small keychain in your palm and took in the detail. It was a carnation that had pink and white petals. You peered over at the one Dwayne got and noticed it was a wisteria flower.

“What do you think it means?” You asked, wondering aloud. Dwyane hummed and arched an eyebrow in response. He turned to walk away from the booth and you followed his movement. The two of you began to walk towards a less populated area of the boardwalk. There were still people around but they were all huddled into groups.

“Pull out your keys.” Dwayne said calmly. You quirked your eyebrow at his sudden sentence. He looked up at you with a plain face. It looked like he was trying to stifle a smile

“What?” You asked, with a smile on your face. He looked back at you as he pulled out the keys to his bike. You pulled your keys out from your pocket and held them in your hand.

“Would you be up for a trade?” He asked, fiddling with the wisteria chain.

“Yes, I would be, but only if you tell me why.” You said, looking at his dark eyes.

“I want something to remember you by, in case you don’t want to go on another date.” He said, carefully picking up the carnation and replacing it with the wisteria

“Why would I not want to go on another date with you?” You asked, with concern lacing your voice.

He shrugged, “I just have the feeling you’re apprehensive about this date.”

“Yeah, there’s no such thing as being too careful these days.” you said, putting the wisteria on your keychain. Dwayne nodded at your response.

“Well, you have my word that I won’t do anything without your permission.” He said, calmly looking at you.

“Thank you, Dwayne. That’s very sweet of you.” You replied with a smile. “I’d also love to have another date with you.” You continued, holding out your hand for him to take. He glanced at your hand before taking it with a grin. His hand was cold. Unusually cold for someone who lives in California. In a way, it was comforting on your warm skin.

In the distance you heard a snort followed by someone laughing. Your eyes wandered to the sound and noticed Richard with Ruth. They were laughing with each other about something. For a second, you wondered if they were just here by themselves but, that thought was pushed aside when you made eye contact with Richard. He gave you thumbs up and so did Ruth. So, they had been shadowing your date. Part of you was shocked and another part was slightly amused at their actions. A tiny part of you was angry. Yeah, you didn’t tell them to not shadow your date but, they should’ve been grown enough to realize you didn’t want them around.

Dwayne noticed your disgruntled face and followed your gaze to your two friends. He chuckled at them before turning his attention back to you.

“Something tells me that you didn’t ask them to follow you.” He said, as you turned to face him.

“Well, it’s not like I could stop them. I hoped they wouldn’t have because I’m grown and can take care of myself.” You said, turning to walk away. The wind picked up and Dwayne followed you. The two of you walked away from the area but you kept glancing back to see if they were following you. Sure enough, they were.

“I know how you feel. Sometimes my brothers will do the same thing. It can be annoying sometimes. ” Dwayne stated, running his free hand through his hair.

“Yeah, but I don’t want them following us the rest of the night.” You huffed, glancing back again. Dwayne chewed his lip in thought.

“We could leave? I can easily get them off our trail, but only if you’re fine with it. ” Dwayne proposed. You looked at his face. His features were highlighted by all of the different lights. He looked handsome.

You pondered his question for a second. It would be nice to leave but, where would you go? You observed his face for a second. His grin was kind and his eyes held no ill intent or malice. A feeling deep within your chest told you it was okay to trust him.

“Yes, please.” You answered, glancing behind you again.

“Okay, don’t look back and don’t drag your feet.” He said, tightening his grip on your hand. Before you could answer, he began to run. You ran behind him as adrenaline rushed through your body. It felt like a shockwave echoed through you. Dwanye expertly ran through the crowd and carefully avoided running into people. It was astounding how fast he was. He was like a trackstar at the state championship. Fast and he didn’t seem out of breath. You were willing to bet he had a smile on his face.

As you two neared the area he parked his bike, you saw him reach for his keys with his free hand. They glittered in the light as if they were a beacon of hope. Dwayne, weaved in between a few more people before reaching his bike. He quickly mounted and you followed quickly. Immediately you wrapped your arms around him and settled against his back. Dwayne quickly started up his bike and drove off into the street. He didn’t bother to drive slow into the night. You smiled as he turned to go on the beach. A smile was on your face as Dwayne erupted with laughter. You leaned back, still keeping your arms around him, to look at the direction Dwayne was heading. You couldn’t tell where he was going ,but you could tell that you would be alone together.

The ride was exhilarating and the wind in your face felt ethereal. He expertly drove through the sand and around groups of people on the beach. Wherever he was taking you, you would be happy to be by his side.