#i don’t usually draw the cozy guys more than the once but this one Demanded it

[3amsnek]

more aro week dragon! he’s very enthusiastic about his job <3 (flags: aromantic, demiromantic, cupioromantic, aroace, greyromantic)

click for better quality

reblogs >> likes! please don’t like if you don’t rb

[jjkmagic]

Chained Heart  Ch. 1 - NeroV Fic

Title: Chained Heart

Pairing: V/Nero Rating: M (will change in later chapters)

Word Count: 7707 Summary: "Devil May Cry" is the name of a bar located in a remote part of the town. Not many know of its existence, and even less are aware what "kind" of bar it is. Nero, too, only learns of its existence by talking to a regular online. At said regular's insistence, and admittedly his own curiosity, Nero decides to check it out. Tags: Human AU, BDSM, Dom/Sub, Collars, Light Bondage A/N: This is actually the first DMC fic I wrote, but of course I had to start a multi-chapter xD So, to celebrate the 2nd chapter that I’ll finally post tomorrow, I decided to post it here on tumblr as well^^ Can also be read on AO3.

Chained Heart Chapter 1: Of Angels and Demons

It was well past ten when Nero arrived at his destination. The night was quiet in this remote part of town, far-off from the popular club scene. He had been told that the location was intentional, to avoid unknowing stragglers stumbling into a place they had no business being.

Nero, however, had business being here, of that he was sure. With the lingering bitter taste of disappointment on his tongue, he hoped—no, yearned— to finally find what he was looking for.

Though he had left home when the night was still young, his nervousness had made him idle in a common bar down the road until the hour grew late. He knew what he wanted, and yet, the mere idea of finding it sent his mind into a jittery mess. There was always the possibility of him screwing up this last chance as well. 

So he had taken a detour to borrow just the faintest flush of liquid courage. Nothing to impede him, but enough to heighten his senses, to eliminate the "What if?" and strengthen the "I can do it. I want this!"

With that thought guiding his hands, Nero pushed open the bar’s door in front of him. There was no bouncer present and no line. With each step, he left behind the quiet of night and the neon sign of the bar that had guided him, the letters glowing a deep red against the darkened stone of the building.

At first glance, there was nothing of interest to see: only a small set of stairs that led up into a bigger—presumably the bar's— main room. It was surprisingly quiet, Nero only catching a faint bass reverberating in the background, the actual music practically inaudible from where he stood. 

The bar was lit up in a warm, but not overly bright light, the dark—possibly black but he couldn't be quite sure—walls absorbing part of the illumination. It wasn't unpleasant; he might even call it cozy, but he didn't want to start praising the establishment before he had seen what he was really here for. He made his way up the well-worn stairs and took a first look at the room that lay beyond.

It was longer than it was wide, with a well-stocked bar to the right and an alcove equipped with tables and comfortable-looking sofas on the left. Nero barely noticed the man behind the bar, who looked up at his arrival; his attention was caught by one of the sofas instead, or rather, the people occupying it.

Reclining comfortably on the couch was a light haired man: tall, broad-shouldered and the epitome of relaxation. He wasn't who caught Nero's attention though; no, his gaze was drawn to the second man sitting to his right, if sitting could even be used to describe his position. He was practically sprawled across the other man's lap, head lowered to rest on the man's shoulder, eyes closed in bliss as the other’s hand carded slow strokes through his hair. The collar on his neck glimmered even in the muted light of the room.

Nero swallowed, for a moment overwhelmed by want, but he could feel the man behind the bar watching him stare, so he forced himself to look away and approach the counter. As Nero did so, his eyes caught light spilling out from what, at first glance, he had thought to be a wall, but turned out to be a room divider consisting of broad straps of what looked like leather, if the way they glinted in the light was anything to go by.

He had the sudden feeling that the actual bar was beyond there, seeing as except for the couple on the couch, the room was devoid of customers. The music, that had only grown faintly louder, also seemed to be originating from the other side.

He was distracted by imagining just what he might find behind that wall, until his gaze met that of the man behind the bar, and suddenly he couldn't look away anymore. There was just something about him, an almost palpable aura of confidence. It was as if the man's gaze alone demanded that Nero look at him.

The man was smiling, but it did not quite reach his eyes. His expression wasn't unwelcoming, but guarded in a way.

"A new face," he said in lieu of greeting. "What brings you here?"

At that point, Nero couldn't shake the feeling that the man was somehow skeptical of him. Maybe he suspected that Nero was unaware of what kind of bar he had just entered, even though Nero knew all too well.

"I was told this place might fit my... expectations, so I came to take a look," Nero told him, watching the man's face somehow grow more guarded.

"Do you have a name?"

At that, Nero paused, a sense of dread growing in him. Was this place possibly invitation-only? If so, the guy who had almost exuberantly encouraged him to check it out had clearly neglected to tell him that tidbit of important information.

Ignoring the dread settling firmly in his gut, he decided to answer honestly. What else could he do? 

“The name's Nero.”

And just like that the man's expression changed, his smile growing wide and earnest. "Nero! Glad you could make it! You didn't sound too sure about coming when we wrote the other day.”

Oh. Apparently this was the very man he had thought about just a second ago. Nero hadn't expected to actually meet him when he had decided to take him up on his offer.  Not wanting to seem rude, he wracked his brain to remember his name. "...Dante, right?"

"The one and only!" the man proclaimed with a grin. "I apologize for the rough greeting. I take full responsibility for everything that happens in this here establishment, so I like to know who I’m letting in beforehand." Dante sounded genuinely apologetic, even as he gave Nero an obvious once over, making the younger man take just the tiniest step backward. Dante just kept grinning, leaning on the top of the bar in a display of nonchalance. "So, you're looking for someone to show you the reins, yeah?"

Heat rushed through Nero's body at the implication. Unfortunately, he was pretty sure that included his face as well. He cleared his throat, lowering his head slightly in an attempt to make his sudden flush less noticeable. "You could say that."

Dante laughed, somehow managing to sound earnestly amused instead of degrading, prompting Nero to meet his eyes again.

"Don't worry, only decent folk around here, that I can guarantee," he vowed. "You got any experience, kid?"

Nero couldn't suppress the groan that slipped from his lips at the question, unfortunately still remembering said “experience” all too clearly. "Only ah... calls and such." Horrible, horrible calls he very much wanted to forget, thank you very much.

The pity that shone from Dante's eyes at his words told him the man understood exactly what he was talking about. "Sorry about that kid, lots of black sheep hanging about on those kinds of websites." He looked visibly chagrined by that fact.

"Yeah, I figured. But I didn't want to meet anybody when I couldn't be sure—” Nero stopped himself there, suddenly feeling unsure about his own reasoning. “It... just seemed like the better option at the time."

"No, no, no, you did the right thing, kid. Well, the best thing would have been coming here right from the start, but you can't help what you don't know, right?"

Nero thought that he was trying to be supportive, but the grin that seemed almost etched onto Dante's face at this point didn't exactly help the matter.

After a moment of silence, Nero received what he figured was supposed to be a pat on the shoulder, but Dante's hand lingered, and Nero wasn't entirely sure what to make of that.

"But now that you are here, well, welcome to Devil May Cry," Dante said, the hand not resting on Nero's shoulder moving with great flourish toward the admittedly unimpressive bar interior. Then he leaned in, suddenly very close to Nero. "Also, I don't wanna hear any comments about the name, okay? I, too, was young once, you know? Anyway."

At that, Dante stood up straight again and his hand, thankfully, left Nero's shoulder.

Don't get him wrong. Dante didn't seem like a bad guy. Nero just couldn't read him at all, and the nerves he had tried to drown with a few cheap beers earlier were already starting to resurface. He didn't like it. Dante probably meant well, but at the moment it was just a little too much.

"You can probably already tell, but this here area is the lounge bar,” Dante told him, drawing Nero from his own thoughts. “People come out here when they just wanna sit back and relax, or talk to little ol' me. Just kidding. I'm usually in the back myself, just keeping an eye on things, you know?" he asked, as if Nero actually could know, leaving him to nod along as Dante continued talking. "But V's back there right now so I figured I could take a little break,” Dante went on, but Nero honestly wasn't even listening anymore. His attention was drawn to the black leather separating Dante's so-called "lounge bar" from... well, what exactly Nero didn't know, but he knew that he very much wanted to.

"Yeah," Dante said suddenly, a knowing smile on his lips, "that's where the real music plays, not just literally, if you know what I mean.” But suddenly his smile faltered, as if he had just remembered something."It's a little late though, so most folks will already have found their playmate for the night."

"No, I know," Nero assured him quickly. After all, it had been partially intentional on his part. "I don't–"

"No, it's fine," Dante interrupted him. "Feel free to talk and mingle. Or, you know, if it's a little much, it's okay if you just take a look for now, too."

Nero's eyes widened in surprise, wondering if he was that obvious or if the other man was just that good at reading people. If Dante's grin was anything to go by it was probably the former.

"Look, I got this Dom here, practically a local celebrity at this point, so it's difficult to get a hold of him, but I’ll see if I can get him to talk to you. Not making any promises though. It's still up to you to convince him.” Dante winked at him, so quickly that Nero wasn’t sure if he hadn’t just imagined it. “He’s not a bad guy though, definitely qualified for the job.”

Job? Nero hadn’t been aware that he was suddenly considered a “job” now.

Dante just shot him another grin, which Nero quickly came to recognize was one of the man's trademarks. Was Nero really that easy to read?

“Don’t worry, darling. Go on, take a look. But–” Dante paused once more, looking at him. “Dress code’s black, I'm afraid.”

Nero blinked, needing a moment to process that statement after everything he had just been told.

“Oh, right,” he said, a little dumbly, when he finally caught up, unzipping his favorite blue jacket and letting it slip off of his shoulders.

He hadn't known if any specific dress code was in place, but black was always a safe option, so he had chosen pants and a plain tank top both of which he happened to own in that color.

“Is there anywhere I can put this?” Nero asked, jacket now in his hands.

Dante seemed almost surprised for a moment, before smiling again and reaching for the garment. “Sure, you can leave it with me. I promise I'll take good care of it.”

Nero handed the jacket over and Dante put it somewhere behind the bar, out of sight. Then he turned around, looking at Nero once more, and that grin, well, Nero tried to ignore it. But it was impossible to ignore Dante's comment. “Looking good there, honey, go have some fun.”

Nero was about to do just that, when he paused once more, against his better judgment. 

“What about you?” he asked, and Dante's eyes widened in confusion. For a moment Nero felt proud at having caught the man off-guard, but it didn't last long. “You're a Dom, aren't you?”

He honestly wasn't sure why he was asking. It was obvious in the way Dante held himself, the way he seemed able to tell Nero what to do without needing words. Yet, he hadn’t even mentioned it, immediately suggesting Nero find someone else, in fact going so far as to offer to find someone for him. Nero just didn't know if that was a good sign or a bad one.

Dante just stared at him for a moment, and then he started laughing. “Me? No, no, no, kid. I'm not taking on any new Subs. I’m getting old, you see? It's difficult enough to entertain my own Subs at times,” Dante told him, adding a secretive wink that, again, didn't really tell Nero anything.

Dante was clearly exaggerating. He was in no way older than 40, but Nero let it go. 

“If you say so…”

“I do. Now, shoo, I've got a business to run here,” Dante said, thusly ending the conversation, and proceeded to… sit down and grab some magazine that he had apparently lying around behind the counter.

‘Business my ass…’ Nero thought to himself, turning his back on the other man, and finally stepping through into the adjoined room.

Nothing could have prepared him for what he found there. It was too much to take in all at once, and not just because of the sudden change in color scheme; Nero suddenly found his world dipped into a dark red hue. 

The room was surprisingly massive in size, especially compared to the little lounge area he had just left. Nero saw the red hue of the room changing somewhere further in, turning a dark shade of purple towards the middle and a dark blue at the other end of the room. But most of all, the room was full; men and women, dressed from top to bottom in black leather or hardly dressed at all, were spread all across the room. Some were only sitting and talking, some openly engaged in noticeably different activities, but most noticeable of all was a small crowd a little further into the room to his right that seemed to have gathered around a man being tied to the wall.

All of it combined had Nero overwhelmed with conflicting feelings. He was completely out of his element and yet… he also felt like he had finally come home.

One thing was for certain: whether or not he fit in right now, he would make sure he did so as soon as possible. He was fed up with having to consider who he could and couldn't trust with his preferences. Apparently there was nothing quite as eye-opening as seeing a room full of people engaging in exactly what he had been repeatedly ridiculed for in his past to realize that it really wasn't much of an issue at all, not among the right people at least.

He had always figured that at least Kyrie wouldn't judge him if he ever were to tell her, but that still didn't mean he was eager to do so. Seeing this, though,  it seemed almost… easy, like it wasn't even particularly worth mentioning at all.

And just like that, Nero was excited, eager. He regretted that he had wasted so much time, had all but lost his chance to delve deeper into the world that had just opened up before him. 

The more realistic part of his mind reminded him that he would have had no idea where to start either way, and that coming earlier wouldn't have equaled knowing what he should do with the gained time. So he figured it was fine, no harm done. Now that he knew, he could always come back.

With that, his shoulders, that had grown tense without him noticing, finally relaxed, and he stepped further into the room to continue his exploration.

The walls were lined with the occasional sofa, each one probably big enough for a person to sleep on. The rest of the room was filled with small tables and chairs arranged in no discernible order, which led Nero to the conclusion that the visitors probably moved them themselves, to suit their respective needs.

Nero stopped for a moment where the apparent bondage show continued to draw an even bigger crowd. The man was fully tied at this point, the black ropes around his arms and upper body offering a stark contrast to his skin, which appeared almost red in the light of the room. The man responsible for the display seemed to be in the process of checking the ropes, and Nero could see him talk quietly to his partner, though he was unable to discern what was being said.

As curious as Nero was to see what would happen next, that was not what he was here for. In fact, his interest in bondage specifically was limited, and he couldn't imagine ever having the patience for all the knots to be tied and secured, let alone a full harness. They were nice to look at, he supposed, but ultimately not worth the hassle. There was no point in denying that Nero tended to be rather impatient.

He left the show behind him, even, unhurried steps leading him deeper into the room until the surrounding red hue faded to purple. Nero wondered for a moment if it was caused by the red and blue lights mixing or if there were additional purple lights to emphasize the effect, but he didn't care enough to check. After all, there were much more interesting things to see and find out.

There didn't seem to be too many people in the immediate vicinity, most of them drawn to the attraction going on somewhere behind him most likely. Nero almost dismissed the sitting area entirely until he caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of his eye. He couldn’t say what it was exactly that drew his attention, but once he turned to look, he found himself completely blindsided by what he saw. 

One of the large sofas on the wall was occupied by a man that put everyone else in the room to shame. A dark curtain of hair hid most of his features from view. His skin seemed almost ghostly pale in the room’s light, highlighting every jet black line of ink running across his body—and there were so many of them. The man was reclined, somehow both seeming relaxed and overly aware. There was a book held open in his hand that Nero couldn't imagine could be easy to read in the limited lighting, and yet it seemed like that was exactly what he was doing.

His behavior was both surreal and so ordinary that Nero really couldn't be blamed for missing the other two people with him at first. And yet there was a woman quite obviously resting on the man's lap, seemingly unbothered by the fact that he was paying more attention to his book than to her, if the content smile on her lips was anything to go by. And then there was a man, not so much on the sofa as kneeling in front of it, with merely his head resting on the dark-haired man's knee. The hand not busy holding the book open rested on the kneeling man’s head, stroking in even, soothing patterns, not unlike one would do for a pet.

The kneeling blond wore a collar while the woman didn't, and yet in this moment there was no doubt that both of them belonged to him, though to what extent Nero couldn't even begin to fathom. Were they together or just “playmates”? The only certain thing was that both seemed perfectly content right where they were.

It was clear that the dark-haired man was in complete control, but it seemed so effortless, so easy, that Nero couldn’t help but compare him to the “Doms” that he had the misfortune of getting to know. They had never made Nero feel at ease, so intent on trying to get him to listen to their every word that it was obvious that even the tiniest bit of back talking completely threw them off.

It seemed like Dante had been right: Nero really never should have bothered with those “BDSM” websites. There was no way he ever would have found a man like the one right in front of him there.

Nero's gaze was transfixed; it didn't even occur to him to look away. The dark-haired man alone seemed otherworldly, an aura not unlike Dante's, yet so much more intense, surrounding him. But the whole scene in front of him was simply surreal, and Nero… really wouldn't mind being a part of it.

Nero swallowed, an almost feral longing hitting him full force, and he finally made himself look away and continue walking. The moment he did, Nero thought he saw the man look up at him, but when Nero glanced back the man hadn't moved, still engrossed in his book. Nero sighed. He could really use a moment to calm his suddenly racing heart.

The room turned a cool blue towards the back, and Nero had to admit that the calming color was really appreciated. As if sharing his sentiment, the people back here were engaged in quiet conversation amongst themselves, and Nero just stopped to look around. He had just started to do so when a sudden touch on his shoulder startled him, and not a moment later he came face to face with a woman practically clinging onto him without warning.

“Hey, pretty thing,” a sultry voice purred into his ear as pretty, delicate fingers ran down his arm, “you look lonely. Is there maybe something I could do for you?”

Nero was caught so off-guard by the situation that he needed a moment to process what was happening, and even longer to realize that the woman, despite being obtrusive, held her head lowered, pointedly looking up at him from below with half-lidded eyes in an obvious display. Nero balked when he finally realized what was happening.

The woman seemed to realize her mistake at almost the same time, her eyes widening and her lips forming a perfect O in surprise. She straightened a moment later, her grip loosening, though she didn't let go entirely.

“Oh my God, I'm so sorry. That was presumptuous of me,” she breathed, finally letting her arm slip off of him, as well. She didn't seem too bothered though, since in the next moment she was smiling conspiratorially at him. “You're on the hunt yourself, huh?”

“Uh…” Nero uttered stupidly, having no idea how he was supposed to react to the sudden turn of events. Her eyes widened once more as her smile turned soft. Oh God, he really was that easy to read, wasn't he?

“Oh my. I thought you must be new, but it's really your first time, huh honey?”

“Uhm, I guess…” Nero replied vaguely, not sure if he wanted to continue this conversation at all, but the woman just laughed softly.

“Oh honey, no need to be ashamed! The beginning’s always difficult but, believe me, it's worth it,” she said with a mischievous glint in her eyes. Something must have shown on his face again because she was suddenly leaning closer, like she was about to tell him a secret. “Let me just give you a tip: just because we like following orders doesn't mean we're weak, quite the opposite in fact.” 

Nero had to admit at this point he was curious, especially when she continued, “Just think of the lengths your Dom goes to to make sure you're satisfied. All you have to do is behave and you'll be treated like royalty.”

Was that how it really was? Nero couldn't quite imagine it; not when his memory was filled with raised voices and slurs when he did not obey immediately (but of course he hadn't, he had no interest in obeying just anybody, after all.)

Nero was snapped out of his thoughts when the woman, whose name he still didn't know, was suddenly right back in his face. “Oh honey, you look traumatized already. Don't worry, everyone around here knows how to treat a Sub with respect. We deserve it, don’t let anybody tell you any different!” The glint in her eyes was fierce, as if she was about to jump up and prove what she had just said, and Nero couldn't help but smile.

That was the second time today that he had met someone who, despite being a little much, was unconditionally kind to him. It felt good not to be judged, and made him infinitely more sure that this was indeed the right place to be.

“Thanks,” he said a little belatedly. “I didn't realize it before, but I think I needed to hear that, so...  yeah, thank you,” he added and was rewarded with an arm around his shoulder pulling him into a one-armed hug.

“Anytime, honey!”

It was then, when he was practically close enough to touch, that he noticed her collar for the first time, and ended up staring at it probably longer than was necessary, and definitely long enough for her to notice.

“What?” she asked before following his eyes. “Oh yeah, I have a partner but he is busy, so I have to find someone else to play with in the meantime,” she sighed. “I seem to have lost my touch though, when I'm even jumping Subs now. Sorry about that again.”

But Nero stopped listening after the first sentence, a little floored by the implication. “Your partner doesn't mind?” he asked.

“Of course he doesn't. He knows he's the only one for me, and this,” she said pointing at her collar, “ensures others know, too. He doesn't want me to grow bored in his absence though, so it's fine. A little playtime here on the main floor is usually enough to get my spirits up,” she explained with a smirk.

Nero believed her, basically, but it was still a foreign concept to him. There was a differentiation between “partner” and “playmate” for a reason he supposed, and he was a little embarrassed at how little he really knew.

“Hey,” she said to get his attention again. “Let me give you one more piece of advice right away: doesn't matter if you're going steady with a Dom or just playing around, basically everything is possible if you communicate it beforehand. Tell them what you want and don't want, listen to what they want in return and everything will work out just fine, believe me. But—” and there, she paused to look at him meaningfully, “find the right Dom first, before you worry your pretty little head about everything else.”

She actually ruffled his hair at that, but Nero was quick to escape her grasp. She merely laughed.

They continued talking for a while longer after that, until she eventually looked at her watch, and, declaring she'd given up for the night, said her goodbyes.

Nero took a deep breath once she was gone, realizing that he, too, didn't have much to do at this point. The room was slowly but surely growing more empty, and so he eventually returned to the lounge.

Dante was still there, but he had stopped reading and looked up when Nero came in. “Hey,” he greeted him with a grin, “did ya have fun?”

Nero shot him a wry look. “Not like that,” he said as he sat down on one of the chairs lining the counter.

“Oh, and what might that be?” Dante asked, his grin turning challenging. Nero just sighed and didn't honor that with a reply at all. “Okay, okay, but did you like it? It’s totally fine if you didn't. There are other bars I can recommend to you in that case. Though they're not actually as good as mine, of course.”

“No, no, it's fine. It's great, just—”

“Not the right time?” Dante finished for him. “As I said, it's late. V should leave soon, too, so now would be the only time to talk to him.” 

Nero had honestly almost forgotten about that. He remembered Dante mentioning the same name before, and, really, what kinda name was “V”? But it was late, and it was his own fault, so he really didn't want Dante to go and annoy one of his customers for Nero.

“That's really not necessary. I'll just—” But Dante cut him off with a stern look that brightened again the moment Nero stopped talking.

“No,” Dante said once he was sure he had Nero’s attention, “I said I'd help, and since you didn't find anyone on your own, as I suspected, I'll do just that. Now, before that, though, I have just one question.”

“And that would be?” Nero asked skeptically, seeing the man's expression turn unusually serious for a change.

“Do you want to play or do you want to get off?” Dante asked him, “V's very... thorough in his sessions, so I need to know if that's what you want. No point in introducing you two if it's obvious you're not compatible.”

Nero was a second away from choking on air. Really, what was it with people and their sudden, intimate questions? He had the feeling he would need to stop blushing like a damn virgin if he ever wanted to be taken seriously around here. “N-no, that's fine…” he said eventually.

“That's fine?” Dante repeated incredulously, and Nero wanted to hit himself, remembering an all-too-recent conversation about the importance of communication. Nero was aware that he wasn't exactly stellar in that regard. It was about time he started working on that as well.

“No, I mean—” he stopped himself before he could start saying something dumb again and started over, facing Dante. “I want that, so it's fine.”

Dante's eyebrows rose further before his lips split into a grin again. “Learning quickly, eh? Keep that up and you'll fit right in in no time,” he said with hardly hidden praise, and Nero couldn't help the flush that formed on his cheeks at that. “If that's settled,” Dante spoke up again, lifting a part of the counter so he could get out, “why don't you wait in my office while I go fetch V.”

Fetch? Nero couldn't help the feeling that this might be a bad idea after all, particularly if Dante was involved.

Dante merely pointed at a door behind the bar, that Nero hadn't noticed until now, not even waiting to see if his instructions were being followed, before stepping into the other room.

Doms, right? There was nothing else Nero could do, except maybe walk away and ruin not only his slowly budding—dare he say friendship?—with Dante but also every chance at ever coming back here again. 

Nero sighed, before moving behind the counter, closing the latch behind him, and entering the indicated room.

It took only a moment for Nero to realize that Dante most likely didn't enter his “office” on a daily basis, if ever. The room was illuminated when Nero walked in, but it was bare save for a suspiciously empty desk and a shelf propped against the wall that contained a few folders, each covered in a thick layer of dust. Dante presumably wasn't a big fan of paperwork. It seemed like a miracle that he managed to run an establishment at all.

There wasn't even anywhere to sit in the “office” except for a single chair behind the desk. Nero wasn't that presumptuous, so he opted to keep standing, preparing himself for a both mentally and physically stressful wait.

It was as if the present was just catching up to him. He was about to be introduced to a Dom, with the very real possibility that he might just become Nero's first Dom.

Strictly speaking, he had talked to Doms before, or at least people who claimed to be, but Nero was willing to wipe the slate clean, start over, open up that spot for someone who actually knew what they were doing. Dante, at least, seemed certain of that, and Nero's heart started beating faster without his say-so. It was too late to freak out now. God, why was he suddenly so anxious again?

It turned out he didn't have to wait long at all before he caught the deepest, most sonorous voice Nero had ever heard in his life approaching the room, threatening to make Nero's knees weak from the sound alone. Unfortunately it didn't sound exactly amused, and so the first thing Nero heard that voice say when the door opened was: "I don't have time to babysit."

Nero felt red hot indignation rising within him, forgetting all about how that voice sounded as he turned towards the source to tell them exactly where they could shove their—!

But instead he froze mid-motion, eyes widening and heart suddenly painfully still.

It was him, the dark-haired artwork of a man he had seen earlier, and up close the man's choice in attire offered a splendid view of exactly how far those tattoos spread. It was quite possible that there was more ink than skin on display and Nero couldn't breathe.

The man looked exactly like before, just as breathtakingly beautiful—quite literally so—despite the frown marring his features. There was a silver cane in his hand that Nero hadn't noticed before, and the man's grip on it tightened, turning his knuckles white, as he turned to Dante, who was following him into the room, saying something that Nero almost didn't catch.

"Don't be too harsh, V. You haven't even talked to the guy."

"I don't have to," V said in response, “I have Subs.”

“Yeah, and last I heard they were out of town, so you should have some time to spare, right?” Dante replied, wearing that same unapologetic grin that Nero had faced earlier. 

This was turning into a straight up nightmare.

Nero was entirely unprepared when the man's— V's— attention suddenly turned to him, not even deigning to respond to Dante’s words.

Nero had the strong feeling that V was someone who didn't show his emotions openly. Considering that it was quite obvious to Nero that he wasn't happy to be here, at all, probably meant that he was really pissed off.

Nero had never felt smaller in his life than at that very moment, with that judging gaze resting on him. He barely even had the time to swallow, though, before V seemed to lose all interest, and turned around again.

And Nero knew V was likely just about to tell Dante once more exactly what he thought about “babysitting”, but at that moment it just looked so much like he was about to leave. Nero's heart plummeted and he was overcome with the sudden need to act, now, before it was too late!

"Please wait!"

The words left his mouth before he had any chance to think of a follow-up.

The truth was there was nothing he could say. What could he possibly offer to a Dom like V? Nero couldn't even really call himself a Sub yet, at least not with any confidence. He had Sub tendencies, that he had been sure of for years, but that was a far cry from having any real experience, or even understanding the full extent of the expectations that came with the term.

But that was why was here. He wanted to know. He wanted someone to teach him, and right now he wanted V to teach him, the man who commanded all of Nero's attention so effortlessly, who had both the beauty of an angel and a voice as sinful as the devil’s. 

And those eyes, jade green and striking; Nero knew he wanted those eyes on him, preferably always. But for that to happen he needed to succeed, needed some way to prove he was serious.

He saw V reacting to his sudden outburst, but before the man could even finish turning towards him, Nero took a step forward and fluidly dropped to his knees.

When Nero lowered his head, all he could see was V's feet, black leather sandals clinging to flawless skin. They were pointed towards him, the only indication Nero had that the man had indeed turned. Nero only hoped that it was also proof that V was at least willing to listen to him. 

It still didn't change the fact that there was literally nothing he could offer the man, though, nothing but his desire to prove himself.

"Please,” he implored, lowering his head all the way to the floor, “all I want is a chance. I won't waste your time."

His request was met with silence.

It probably only lasted a few seconds, a few unbearable seconds, that ended with a soft sound from V, the meaning of which Nero couldn't even begin to fathom. He could only hope it was good.

Those leather clad legs took a step forward, so close that Nero felt tempted to lean in just to know what they would feel like against his skin.

"I suppose he has a certain charm," V said, and with the prior disdain gone, the sound of his voice was sweet and smooth like honey. "Look at me."

Nero was quick to follow the request—no, command —raising his upper body to look at V. A moment later, a single digit placed under his chin lifted his head even higher until he had no choice but to gaze straight into the other's eyes. Nero knew he was being examined, those green eyes seemingly piercing his very soul.

For a while nothing happened, and eventually that single point of contact between them disappeared, but Nero didn't dare move yet as V straightened from where he had leaned down to examine him.

There was scrutiny in that gaze, even now, but eventually V spoke, though his words were anything but what Nero had expected.

“I don't fuck my Subs. I have toys to do that for me. Do you have any objections to that?”

Nero blinked, unable to process all the implications in that statement at once, but he forced himself to respond quickly lest the man lose his patience. “N-No, none.”

Those eyes remained fixed on him, as if trying to discern the truth behind that statement. Nero didn't know if V found what he was looking for when he rose to his full height again.

V lifted a hand, and Nero couldn't help but track its path upwards, past intricately inked skin and one pink, rosy nipple—he really wasn't wearing much at all, was he?— to reach inside his coat and procure a single slip of paper.

Nero almost fell over in his haste to take it as V held it in his general direction.

“Tomorrow, 5 PM. If you have any other appointments you'd better tell me now.”

As Nero examined it, he saw that the note contained a single address and nothing else.

“I'm available,” he replied, almost without thinking. He knew it to be true, and even if not, he would find a way to clear his schedule. 

He didn't need to know V any better than he did right now to know that, for him, Nero would do almost anything.

There was the faintest upturn to V's lips when Nero’s attention returned to him. Unfortunately, he had no idea what had caused it to appear.

“It's a business meeting. Dress accordingly, black, but show your neck,” V instructed curtly, and Nero tried to keep up, the sudden dawning realisation that this was actually happening slowing down all other thought. “Being late is the same as not showing at all. You might as well not bother then.”

“N-no, I'll come,” Nero assured quickly. The mere thought of missing this was making his skin crawl.

“Of course you will,” V replied and, if Nero wasn't imagining things, there was just a hint of amusement in his voice. “Otherwise you'd be wasting my time. And I don't believe in second chances.”

“I only need one. I'll be there,” Nero said with all the conviction he could muster.

V's gaze remained unmoving, and Nero couldn't shake the feeling of helplessness under such intense scrutiny.

“Hm,” V voiced wordlessly, before turning around, apparently having nothing left to add to the conversation. Instead, he turned to Dante, who Nero had all but forgotten was there as well. “I'll be taking my leave now.”

“Sure. Later, V,” Dante replied so casually that Nero almost balked, but V neither reacted nor turned before he left the room.

The moment the door closed behind him Nero all but collapsed, all tension leaving his body at once.

He had made it, somehow. He had a date—an appointment?—with a Dom. And not just any Dom, but one so beautiful and awe-inspiring that it was hard to believe he was even real.

“You okay there, kid?” Dante's question pulled him back to reality and Nero sat up properly, not yet daring to stand lest his knees fail him.

“Yeah... I'm good.”

Dante grinned at him, looking unfairly amused at the whole situation. “Got quite a presence, huh? Don't be ashamed, he's brought tougher men to their knees.”

Dante winked at that, and Nero really didn't need Dante to tell him for him to believe it. To Nero, it was hardly surprising, and exactly the reason he was so jittery in the first place.

“Even you?” he asked instead, trying to distract Dante as much as himself.

Dante laughed. “Not my style, kid. If I ever felt like trying though… why not?”

“Really?” he asked in surprise. That was not the response Nero had expected.

“Listen, kid. I mean what I said, okay? He knows what he’s doing. As long as you don't act like a complete dick, which I don't think you will, I'm sure you two will get along just fine.”

And again, Dante proved to be way more insightful than he let on. Nero sighed.

Could it really be that easy, though? V didn't seem overly patient and Nero feared that the smallest slight on his part might ruin everything. God, and here he had no real clue what he was doing to begin with.

He heard Dante mirror his sigh and soon after a heavy hand landed on his shoulder, shaking him softly. “Relax, kid. He knows you're an amateur and he still accepted. He's not going to suddenly expect that you won't mess up ever. As long as he can see you're trying, you'll find a solution that you're both satisfied with.” Dante sounded so sure of every word that it was hard not to believe him.

“You really think highly of him,” Nero said, as that realization finally sunk in.

“Sure I do, and I'm by far not the only one. He's not as popular as he is because he's an asshole, that's for sure.”

It made sense. But there was something else, a recent memory that still buzzed around in Nero’s mind. “Is it true though?”

Dante looked at him, and, sensing that Nero had calmed down somewhat, removed his hand from his shoulder. “Is what true?”

Nero looked to the side, promising himself that sometime soon he'd stop acting like a virgin whenever the topic came up—the result of growing up in an environment where it was very much considered normal to have sex but very much abnormal to talk about it. But that time had not yet come.

“That he doesn't fuck his Subs? You said—”

But Dante made a quick “hold up" gesture that Nero saw even from the corner of his eyes, so he stopped, turning to the other man again.

“I said he is thorough. What exactly other Doms get up to during their sessions is not something I pry into. For now, you should just take his word for it.”

Nero just blinked. No closer to a satisfying answer in that regard, he settled for trying to make sense of everything else that had happened so far. At least that was his plan, until Dante suddenly stepped in front of him, forcing Nero to look up.

“What you should also do is stop looking like a wet rag,” he proclaimed and proceeded to grab Nero's arms to pull him onto his feet. Nero could do nothing but make sure he didn't lose his balance at the sudden movement and stumble into Dante. 

“Much better.” Dante grinned, and Nero was suddenly aware of how exhausted he was that he didn't even have it in him to be annoyed at the other man. “Go home and get some rest. You want to be fit for your date tomorrow, right?” Dante gave him a suggestive eyebrow wiggle.

Nero could only roll his eyes and hold onto his jacket as it was suddenly thrust at him from God knows where.

“You're welcome, by the way,” Dante added, and Nero’s grip went slack for a moment.

“Yeah. Thank you, Dante,” he said honestly.

He hadn't expected anything like this to happen when he came here, but now he was really fucking glad he did.

“Now don't get all mushy on me. Shoo, shoo.”

“I won't,” Nero promised as he pulled his jacket over his shoulders, “but thank you anyway. I'll be back.”

Dante was smiling when Nero looked back at him one last time, more honest than his usual grins, and Nero gave a quick salute before leaving.

Once back outside in the cool night air, Nero took a deep breath.

Well, so much for not being successful tonight.

With a single slip of paper grasped securely in his hand where it rested inside his pocket, he started his way back home. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

If you liked it, please like and/or reblog, and feel free to yell at me via asks or messages if you want^^The second chapter will be up tomorrow, so stay tuned!

[the-ash0]

surviving paradise ch 23- for science

Hi there. Can I get your attention for one moment? Yes, I know we don't really talk. I know you’re here to listen to the ravings of my mentally unbalanced house-guest. That’s fine. As much as I am aware that people usually refer to me as a narcissistic know-it-all, that is highly over exaggerated. I mean, I love myself; how could I not? I’m Bulma Briefs. The most intelligent and beautiful creature on the planet. And, now that I’ve seen a bit of space, quite possibly in the galaxy. That said, I have quite the problem on my hands here.

That problem is scowling down at me right now. Yes, Vegeta, Prince of all Saiyans.  All two. Damn, that has to sting, right? Well, he does seem angry enough. Despite my best efforts to mollify him. And I’ve certainly tried. Why just today, I let him train -lightly- without complaint, fed him a meal fit for kings (and their extended families), and skilfully convinced him to take a relaxing shower to top it off.

Now I’ve invited him to our nice, cozy living room to overview my findings. I’m even setting a good example: made myself comfortable on the living room couch with my notes spread out  on the low table in front of me. None of it seems to make a difference though. The man is as high-strung as ever. I’m beginning to think that I am somehow offensive to him. In the spirit of another peace offering, I smile and push my notes out. "I have most of the data I need to help you out right here."

The tells are there is you know what to look for. That half-baring of teeth before he snaps his jaws together. The twitch as he just barely stops his hands from balling into fists. Just my voice is apparently enough to dispel any wholesome effects today might have had; all tension is back in full force.

"Hn,"  Vegeta crosses his arms, straightens up as he stares down at the papers. "What do you mean, 'most'?"

Oh yes; I am definitely part of the problem. Or at least, me being nice to him is. But he’s making an effort as well, I now realise and nearly snort in amusement. I have been walking on eggshells with him, giving him everything he could need before he even asks for it. It seemed safest, with the hair trigger he has. Now it seems he’s doing the same with me. How absurd. Absurd, but convenient.

I click my tongue then pick up a paper and hold it up, a little to the side, in a silent invitation for him to join me on the couch and read along with me. "Well, I talked to Goku. Talked to Krillin also, and got some very insightful statements from Gohan here…”

He snatches the paper from me instead, and I blink in surprise. Can he read our language? I was pretty sure he could not, before. The way that he scans the sheet and then quickly becomes confused suggests he had thought he could, but is failing. Of course he is; it’s my handwriting, which is more messy than a doctor’s prescription. But his reaction could not be faked.

Oh, the sneaky bastard. I’m not sure how or when he picked it up, but this explains a lot about our GR mishap. I’ve been blaming myself, figuring I must have turned off the safeties by mistake, but him purposefully messing with my system makes a lot more sense. Just learning this nugget of information would have made this whole exercise worth my while, but I’m digging for a bit more.

Ah, you thought I was just helping out? I am! Yet to be any help, I need information. I am a scientist, after all. The more I know about him, the better I’ll do. And yes, I like knowledge in and of itself; I want as much of it as I can get. And this is the perfect opportunity to milk him for all I can.

When he gives up on my handwriting, eyes returning to me in silent question, I continue. “I really could use your take on things, mostly on Saiyan culture and the myth around the Super Saiyan. I'm afraid Goku had absolutely no clues there, so I'm drawing blanks on that front."

I don't miss the way he crumples the paper in his hand at my best friend's name, but he seems to find some measure of satisfaction in my words.  "It figures that idiot is useless."  With a flippant air, he discards the paper and makes a spinning motion with his now free hand to prompt me on. "Tell me what you've learned, woman."

Disguising what would have been my teeth grinding I smile once more. He thinks he can push me around? Hell no! But it would not do to lose my temper in the midst of researching his. We’re working two fronts here, you see. Yes, I mean to get answers for my questions, but the most important thing is his emotional response. I’ve moved into undefined territory now and I’m going to do a little research into what triggers my houseguest. What sets him off. Between Goku's return and his request for help, I feel safe enough to try and find out.

"Okay." Carefully now, I first promise good things to come. "Well, Goku’s transformation was tied to Krillin's death, and I have two possible theories as to why exactly.” Then butter him up a little more, blinking my eyes alluringly for better effect. “But I need your input before I can make any conclusions—” Now, finally, my own set of demands. Just one little push to see what happens. “—I have some questions for you to answer.”

He huffs. “Fine, what would you like to ask?”

I cannot help that bubble of annoyance. Control freak! He demands, but apparently I make requests. Who does he think he’s talking to? Regardless, I remain pleasant. At least he agrees to listen. "Well, I'd like to know about Saiyan friendships and family. Did you guys form strong bonds with your teammates? Like family?"

This is important, you see. And not just or my Super Saiyan research. I thought I had Vegeta’s needs covered well enough. I thought I’d had him... well...not reformed, obviously, but at least neutralized. I gave the guy a place to sleep, food, and a way to get his anger out. It had worked, or so I thought. On the average day you’d hardly know he lives here. Has been living here for close to a year now. Yes, it took a little planning to stay ahead of his demands. Yet the way he gets so confused and flustered when I show up with what he just realized he needed is so amusing I can hardly consider it a task.

An easy job that I thought I had well under control. I know how reforming works; I have a long list of enemies-turned-friends to prove this: Tien, Yamcha, Piccolo... to name a few. All former bad guys that have become assets to our team, just by having a chance to change. To that end I've been nice, understanding, and yes...patient.

How did Vegeta repay me? That's right. He went and blew himself up.

It turns out that when you leave a confused Saiyan Prince to his own devices, he will turn his anger in on himself. Who knew? Guess there is still a little something missing, and my money is on companionship. The best way to drive a man insane is isolate him, after all. And this guy seems pretty lonely to me.

He blinks a few times and frowns at me like I’ve grown an extra head before finally returning to his all-favourite scowl.  "Tch!" he huffs, as if offended by the question, and turns his gaze off to the side. "We were warriors. We didn't need or want family, they would only hold us back."

It is my turn to be confused, because that just does not compute. Humans and Saiyans are close genetically, and us humans? We’re all about friends and family. I mean, I checked us against Nameks and we genetically have more in common with a banana; despite this, Nameks still live in villages and form ties like we do. But Saiyans? We're very close. Keep this under wraps: it’s about a 99.3 % match.

How do I know this? Saiyans like to bleed. Goku does. Vegeta’s practically addicted to it. Cleaning up after themselves is not their thing... I’m good with scraping up samples and putting them under a microscope. Yeah, fuck consent. I know. I’m a bad, bad girl. But I did it for science. “So... no ties to teammates or family. None at all?”

I get another scowl for my trouble before he starts into a weak laugh. “Did you miss the part where I murdered Nappa, my last unit member?” His laugh picks up in an alarming way when he makes a few gestures depicting Nappa’s last moments in this realm. My face must have shown disgust, because with one last look at me he throws his head back roaring, then suddenly stops. “No.”

So, I think he’s full of shit. Mammals are mammals, and there’s one thing we have in common: we care for each other. Specifically our young. Families must have happened. What, do you think a baby Saiyan is so strong it won't die out alone in the wild? Take a look at how much food they need to survive. Goku had his grandfather to help him as a babe, and I’m sure his appetite kept the old man busy enough. Also, Earth, I’m reasonably sure, is one of the most fertile planets around. Besides, like I said, we’re genetically almost identical. Saiyans cared for their young at some point. It's what mammals do.

“So you never knew your parents? Or what, they didn't stay in touch? How does that even work?”

"I am a Prince. My father was the King. Everybody knew who he was. But we were bred in gestation chambers. What does any of that have to do with becoming a Super Saiyan?"

My pleasant expression slips, but I cannot help it. "Super Saiyan is an emotional response. There should be a way to unlock it by finding the right triggers. The strongest triggers  humans have are related to family, and protecting one's family..." It was such an elegant theory. We all know the story of the mother cat that will fight a pack of dogs to protect her young. Would it not make perfect sense that such a transformation would be linked to protecting your own for Saiyans as well? But with Vegeta’s input, I admit the chances for my first and favourite theory are looking slim right now, and I’m very, very disappointed. "So... no other Saiyans knew their parents?”

"If they did they never talked about them, or at least not to me." He rolls his shoulders dismissively, answering a little too lightly.

I tap my finger on the table. There's more here, but I can sense we are reaching a limit to his patience. Perhaps I should simply move on to theory number two.

“...except for Raditz,” he continues.

“What?”

It's so odd for him to offer information willingly like this that I am caught off guard. Apparently, so is Vegeta. His statement is not connected with any positive mood changes though. After a restless fidget, he balls his fists and starts to pace. “Raditz talked about his old man a lot. But he doesn't count.”

Raditz. He was the one that came looking for his brother, for Goku. That trip must have taken him months, if not years. This does not sound like something a man who did not care about his family would do. And, whatever the reason, Vegeta kept tabs on him to the point that he found out right away when he died. “Why doesn’t he count?”

Something changes in the air. I think I can actually see his ki, and my papers start to flutter. “Because he was fucking weak. And fucking crazy.”

Ok. I think this is as far as I want to test the waters. I don't want my head blown off, so I agree. “You're right. He doesn't matter.”

The lie placates him enough for my papers to still, and he vigorously nods his head. He’s right about one thing though: Goku’s brother seemed totally unhinged. But then, Vegeta seemed pretty off his rocker to me as well. And Nappa? That big guy? I’m kind of glad he’s dead, sorry. Total maniac. I wonder why Raditz was supposedly worse.

I’ll put my first theory on ice for now though, and move on to number two. It will suit my needs better anyway. “Then it’s got to be a sudden spike of anger.”

“No.”

No? Now he’s just insulting me. But I breathe in, and try for reason. He was on the verge of losing it just a moment ago, and although I might want to test his temper, I do not need him to break my fragile neck. “Gohan and I discussed this at length. Goku was having a great time, until Frieza killed you. Then he completely lost it when Krillin was killed. It’s obvious that—”

"The half-breed brat can’t understand." His temper is still there, thinly veiled behind large gestures. "If anger was the trigger, I would have achieved that form as a child!"

Don't you dare insult Gohan! Seriously, he’s the only mature Saiyan in existence, between your drama and Goku’s complete lack of responsibility. Poor kid. So smart and talented. I wouldn’t mind having a kid like that myself, but I'm more of a career girl. I’m in love with science.

Once more, I bite down on my words. Vegeta is upset enough as it is, and I’d hate for him have a little melt down and revert to his old ways, especially when I am within arms reach. “I didn't say it was anger, per se. Goku described it as something breaking. So, I’d say you have to go from being happy to extremely angry very quickly.”

"That's it? You're a genius and all you can come up with is 'getting really pissed off? Some genius! I'm pissed off RIGHT NOW and I'm not transforming!"

“You are focusing on the end product and not the method. Goku is usually very laid back and happy. If you were to relax first, like he does, and then—”

"Kakarot is a feeble minded IDIOT who has betrayed his heritage!" Vegeta’s temper and ki flare, and the Prince of Saiyans loses his control. For a moment, I think he will end me. Then his first crashes through my hardwood table. Notes and wood chips scatter; I am lucky not to be hit, because I didn't even have time to turn my head. "Do not compare him to me!"

Damn. Guess that was pushing too hard. Lucky for me, the cavalry arrives in the form of my mother. Perhaps I should have warned her earlier. But as usual, my good old mother knew something was up and was prepared. She prances in with her trademark clueless expression, and sometimes I wonder if she’s fooling anyone. The sputtering nightmare in front of me seems to fall for it though.

Mom puts her one free hand to her face, the other laden with a tray of meat-buns. "Oh my. Did that old table finally give up the ghost? I knew I should have had it replaced sooner. Anyone care to try my new recipe?"

Vegeta rounds on her, teeth bared. For a moment I fear that I am going to make my father a widower, but when he does a double take upon seeing the remains of the table, I breathe a sigh of relief. He takes a deliberate whiff, grabs three of the buns, and perches on the couch armrest.

He’s on his third bite before I realise he’s distracting himself, frowning down at the buns. He’s not an idiot; not like Goku. I’d have been dead if he’d made up his mind to kill me, but he knows that would not be beneficial. That temper of his is a problem, but at least he was willing to take the out my mother provided.

I give him some time to compose himself, and when he finally speaks around a last mouthful of meat bun, I cannot help but smile. "You'd better have something else to suggest, woman."

My grin grows, because I know I’ve already won. "I’ve given you two options. There’s only two areas where Goku can beat you hands down: friends, and relaxing. Which do you suggest trying?"

He stops chewing for a moment, one eyelid twitches as he sideeyes me. He thinks it's a trap. In some ways, perhaps it is. When he sighs, resigned, my heart crows victory. “Don't worry,”I assure him, “I am an expert in relaxing.”

[dark-and-kawaii]

Hello! May I request headcanons for Kuroko, Kise, and Imayoshi with a female s/o who is a difficult person to be with? She's very temperamental, can be quite cold-hearted and bitter about people and the world in general? Thanks and good luck to your blog!

Okay, lemme start by saying Imayoshi was a bit difficult (╥﹏╥) He’s another top favorite of mine, but i don’t feel like i did him justice! I’ll get better though as i continue forward! I did my best and i hope you approve of these ┐(‘～`；)┌ 

I had fun writing for Kise though ^-^ 

Kuroko

Let’s be real about this, no one can believe you snagged up Kuroko. The quiet, emotionless phantom sixth man.

Whenever the two of you are out and about you always hear people comment ‘Wow they actually have a boyfriend? No way, how? How did THEY get a boyfriend, i doubt it lasts.’

Despite their comments, Kuroko has no problem appearing out of nowhere to frighten them, asking the girls why it’s hard to believe. They didn’t know you like he did after all.

Kuroko knows you have a softer side, he’s realized that only he can bring it out of you. Especially when he ruffles up your hair telling you not to worry about things.

Honestly at the start Kuroko had no clue what drew him to you, YET there you two were… eating at Maji Burger while you were yelling at the server about how they didn’t give you extra sauce like you had asked “nicely”

How dare they not give you your extra sauce

On a hot summer day Kuroko decided it was best the two of you went to the beach instead of staying inside… However you wish you would’ve stayed home after seeing a pink haired girl mow him down with a hug. Her chest was basically suffocating him.

Fist clenched ready to hit, but kuroko stopped you quickly once he realized what was about to happen. Pushing the girl named Momoi off of him, he stood up explaining that this was a friend of his.

Clicking your tongue you already had enough, not wanting to hear more of the “friend” excuse you decide it best to leave.

Before you leave you make sure that she hears you “When she’s old and wrinkly her boobs will be saggy while mine will still be perky, if you really want to waste your time with her Kuroko than go for it.”

Kuroko however didn’t allow you to leave, grabbing your hand stopping you he turned towards Momoi demanding she stopped immediately. That this was the last time she would plow him down with her affection. If Momoi couldn’t accept the fact he was officially off the market then he wanted nothing to do with her, making sure you heard everything loud and clear, that you were the only one he cared about.

Seeing him so brutally honest made you realize that maybe there wasn’t much of a difference with the two of you.

Dates usually consists of the two of you at home, away from other people to avoid you making a scene. Most times Kuroko will bring you Maji Burger so the both of you can relax.

Kise

OH. MY. GOD.

First things first, you hate his little fan girls

Like, you HATE them.

If you had one wish it would be to banish them all on an island somewhere far far far far far away. A different universe would be fine with you actually.

One time a girl came up to Kise DEMANDING he ended things with you right then and there.

You decided the best thing to do in that situation was to take your flip flop off and chuck it at said girls head.

You nailed her.

Dead center on her forehead

“Hahahaha Boom! Headshot!” Pointing with one hand and taking Kise’s hand in your other, you strolled off proud with YOUR man.

“Did you really have to do that ____-cchi. I have a reputation to hold after all.”

“Excuse me? If you’re more worried about them I guess I’ll tell that Haizaki guy i’m available.” Yeah you said it, who cares? You knew there was bad blood between the two, he hurt your feelings, why not hurt his?

What you didn’t expect that day was for Kise to laugh at your response. What was so funny about it? You were being serious, right?

“You’re so adorable _____-cchi!” grabbing you by the waist swirling you around as if you weighed nothing. “How did i get so lucky to have such a winsome girlfriend! I love when you get jealous! I just can’t take you serious when you threaten me with Haizaki. You know he wouldn’t put up with you like i do.” Putting you down eventually he would capture your lips with his.

Yeah, its true. Kise LOVES how jealous you can get. Everything about it amazes him, especially how protective of him you can be. It’s almost like you’re his personal bodyguard at times.

Just the other night a sleazy female hooked her arm around Kise’s, you acted quickly before he had the chance to. 

Grabbing the nearest thing to you, in this case a fire extinguisher… You blasted the poor girl in the face with a white cloud.

When it comes to date night you’re forced to go out in crowded areas which is a no go for you.

Getting pushed around isn’t necessarily your idea of a perfect date. It usually ends with you pushing people back “Get the hell off of me you disease, Kise let’s go before i lose brain cells from being around all these idiots.”

Once you’ve arrived at the comfort of your home the both of you laying on your cozy bed, Kise admits he only took you to such a crowded area because he loves seeing you get frustrated as he boops you on your nose with his finger.

“…..”

Resulting to you kicking him off the bed… okay push… you push him off…. Okay you KICKED and PUSHED him off the bed.

Despite everything, you love this man with all your heart.

You know he’s the only one for you because you knew he was right when he said he’s the only one who could put up with you.

After all, you’re the only one who can put up with him.

Imayoshi

This is a true relationship right here.

He finds your cold-hearted personality quite amusing, a lot of the times he’ll purposely throw you into a situation where he can see you in action.

You’ll never forget the day he pushed you into a male named Hanamiya.

Imayoshi was walking hand in hand with you through the city until he spotted a former classmate, Hanamiya. Imayoshi being the sneaky little devil he is saw this as the perfect opportunity to see what you would do.

“Oi you brat watch where you are going.” Grabbing you by the collar of your shirt  Hanamiya lifted you up from the ground  piercing through you with his gaze. How dare this guy put his hands on you, does he not realize what he got himself into? Acting hastily you bit down on his hand until Hanamiya released his grip.

HOWEVER, your teeth didn’t let go of his hand. No. Instead you kept biting down… harder.

Imayoshi practically had tears in his eyes from chucking so much.

As much as Imayoshi enjoys messing with you, he respects that you don’t necessarily enjoy the company of other human beings. So he will take you out into the woods, somewhere peaceful where the two of you can fish alone enjoying the company of one another.

While fishing in quiet he admires you. He’s actually quite proud of you. Yes, you’re not really his type, he realizes this, but he also knows that no one else could keep life so entertaining. Even if you are difficult to work with at times.

The one thing he finds most difficult is you giving him a hard time with his drawings… He tries his best after all.

At the end of the day you are both curled up with one another as he runs his fingers through your hair until he riles you up.

“___-chan… you have quite a giant forehead ya know.”

“Imayoshi-senpai.”

“Hm?”

“Your arm looks better with bite marks in it.” Biting his arm as you grab a fist full of his hair. Without hesitating he flips you over so he can now lay on top of you pinning your arms.

Without a doubt, you are the only one for him, without you life would be boring. 

~Admin Kiwi~ xo

[ultrawitchywriterus]

Chapter 1 of Witch

Here is the first chapter of something that will either be a personal novel or will turn into a Castlevania Fanfic. Who knows for now what the outcome will be.The title may also change but for now this is the filler. 

                                                         Witch

                                       Eostre Wilhelmina Blaese

               Autumn’s cold embrace swept across the quiet city lit by pale yellow light. Earthy scents mix with the gas from constant traffic of the day and enter the tired lungs of passerby. Their faces turned white from their small screens as they browse and like the numerous posts they see in their feed. Rain threatens them as some wait for buses and cabs while others walk quickly to reach the end of their journey. Thunder rumbles as it draws closer and lightning flashes like camera bulbs. A woman with brown hair rushes down the sidewalk, head tilted down with eyes locked onto the ground. She hugs herself against the chill of autumn’s rain and curses the loose strands of hair that impede her vision. The click of her heels fills her head and keeps a fast tempo for her racing thoughts. “This walking to and from work shit is starting to get old.”

               “I need to get that fucking transmission fixed already. Finding an asshole that won’t charge me the price of the car when I bought it though, is proving to be a nightmare.” She sighs deeply and rubs her right eye wanting to just lay in bed the entire weekend. The adult who is responsible act is getting tiring. The body aches and fatigue are not worth the financial stability some days. The need to call and make an appointment with her counselor nags at the back of her head. “Maybe Monday I’ll remember but we’ll see if I feel up to it or even remember it.” The threat of not achieving the basic housework this weekend is already looming as the motivation to do it is already gone. The motivation of making dinner at home is also basically gone with this weather but a cheesy potato soup recipe has been calling lately. Those ingredients would also go bad if it didn’t happen tonight like their ancestors of soups past.

               She turns the corner as rain slowly pelts the ground and those who are smart, open their umbrellas and close their coats tighter. Cold wind dances against her bare legs causing bumps to leap from under her skin. She curses those who decided that skirts and blouses are the best attire when participating in meetings. That buffoon in charge always dictates what cloth should be put on staff’s bodies and which type of cloth is appropriate for the same mundane events. “We get it, don’t wear clothes that make you feel tingly because you can’t control yourself. We all know you lack brain power to understand that its your fault and not ours,” her thoughts bring her contract into her mind about how she must follow the dress code accordingly or there would be consequences. Some days she dreads her decision on accepting this job but the need to move away was the most important task at that point in time. She also thought that taking this job would have more meaning to it than her original position, but decisions can’t be made at all.

               Her apartment building comes into view though it is masked by the torrential rain. Brown stone with a tan, wooden entrance enter the sky. The building was built in the eighties and was recently renovated in 2018 due to a massive flood damaging the first three floors. Having to close three out of eight floors for two years didn’t sit well with the landlord and so he shut down the entire building and had them work on it everyday in rain, heat, and snow. It was finished within a year and a half, most likely due to Mr. Hampson’s “influence” within the city. We don’t talk about his influence much, might disappear if you do. He spared no expense in renovating the place, having every apartment receive everything from new windows to floors and even revamping the air conditioning and heating systems. The only apartment they didn’t renovate much was Mr. Hampson’s third floor apartment and office. He only had some fixes and appliances replaced but he didn’t bring his apartment into the more modern, cozy style the rest of the building received. He says he prefers the old style and it keeps the memory of his mother, the original landlord, alive.

               She quickly climbs the five stairs to the entrance and swipes her keycard into the reader. Pulling the door open she enters the cold building. Mr. Hampson must have forgotten to turn on the heat or he hit the wrong button again. The water seems to freeze instantly on her body causing her to shake more than when she was outside. Her glasses still managed to fog from the temperature difference, causing her to pause while they took their sweet time to adjust. There is a thermostat on the way to the elevator that is one of many that controls the building’s overall temperature. Thankfully, Mr. Hampson gifted her a key to unlock the clear box encasing the thermostat. This allowed her to change the temperature to something that agreed with the outside weather instead of keeping it cold on days like this. When she first moved in, she assumed everyone received this key due to his failing eyes. Apparently, she is only one out of five residents who were trustworthy enough to be given a key. The other four have been long time residents and friends of Mr. Hampson, ranging in ages of later thirties to early eighties.  No one was able to tell her why she was deemed worthy of this key, but she must have seemed like a good enough person to be in possession of it.

               The hallway to the elevator was brightly lit following the early evening rain. The silver door to the elevator reflected the light slightly, showing how clean Mikey keeps the doors and frame. To the right of the shining silver was a small plastic box with a small grey lock. Wanting to hurry to her apartment, she presses the up arrow and unlatches the box. The thermostat read that it was set to a chilly sixty instead of the usual seventy-five Mr. Hampson normally sets it to. She sets the temperature to the preferred number and relocks the box in time to hear the dinging of the elevator arriving. She hurries into the elevator and hits the button for the sixth floor. She shivers and hugs herself while she impatiently waits for the numbers above the door to tic by slowly. Wet hair clings to her face and glasses and shoes are filled with water which causes squish sounds as she exits the elevator.

               Keys jingle as she searches for the small, golden mail key to her box. She walks to the left where about twenty mailboxes hang from the wall. She finds 617, Eostre Blaese, and unlocks it to find one small package and three envelopes. She removes the items and shuts the door to her mailbox before continuing down the same hallway to her door. Once again, she struggles to find the silver key before unlocking both locks on her door. A furry darkness greets her as she closes the door, purring as she trots towards to her mother. Hecate rubs her body against Eostre’s legs purring and mewing in happiness. Eostre kicks her heels off next to the messy pile of shoes she swears she will straighten up this weekend. “How are you doing my love?” She bends down to scratch Hecate’s neck and chin before running her hand down her back a few times. She straightens and looks at the mess of a living room that an archeologist would love to dig through. Eostre sighs and enters the kitchen to place her things on the table. The small night light provides enough so that she can locate the table and flip the switch to the overhead light. White fluorescent light partially blinds her as she stands letting her eyes adjust from dim yellow light to this harsh rudeness. Hecate jumps onto the table sniffing at the box before insisting on being fed immediately.

               “Alright my queen, I hear you. I’ll feed you before I forget,” Eostre rubs her thumbs on Hecate’s face and rubs her head in between her hands. Eostre grabs the food bowl, fills it with dry food, and cracks open a can of Sassy Crab flavored cat food. She unceremoniously dumps the food in and mixes it together using a butter knife because she has run out of spoons. Hecate meows more furiously as she follows Eostre across the kitchen demanding her food. Eostre places the bowl onto the way too expensive bowl holder where Hecate hurriedly shoves food into her mouth. Eostre grabs a bottle of water from the table and tops off the water bowl before placing it on the counter with the five other half-filled bottles. She walks to her bedroom and again sighs at the piles of clothes and general mess she will have to clean this weekend. She strips out of her clothes and bra searching for something comfortable that doesn’t smell or have stains. When that fails, she puts on an oversized t-shirt with a picture of a cartoon black cat. She decides pants of any kind are not needed and returns to the kitchen to sit at the table.

               Her phone buzzes showing a notification for three emails, one Facebook notification, and a text message from Marxie. The emails are nothing but spam shit from a store she hasn’t shopped at in three years. The Facebook notification informs her that she has memories and Marxie hates the dude at work who is incompetent yet beautiful. Eostre unlocks her phone and scrolls through her social media apps seeing that nothing new is happening. She shares a video about a cat pouncing on their unsuspecting owner then goes to read Marxie’s text. “Please tell me why I have to jump through flaming hoops of utter shit and piss to have superior dick shit even look at my articles but Mr. shit bricks for brains can have his looked at in seconds. I didn’t go into debt and fight for my position to just have everything I do overlooked while this college drop out gets to do whatever he wants. I hate it here,” Marxie is not the biggest fan of the former new guy. He’s been there for three months and everyone is in love with him because of his pretty boy face. Eostre has read some of the articles he writes, and it seems that its nothing but opinion pieces with no actual evidence or research put into it. Marxie already thinks journalism is a dying career and Shit Bricks doesn’t help that.

               “And here I thought you wanted to marry him and start your own personal newspaper together. I don’t know what to tell you hun, there is that position open at your competitor you could try for. You’ve kinda done everything in your power to gain more recognition but you can’t get it when they don’t want to give it to you in the first place,” unfortunately Eostre was out of advice and ideas for Marxie. They both lived in a city that catered to males more than anything and almost every woman in this city has had to fight for their positions at work. Kind of a backwards type of area they are in but being in a more rural area of the country doesn’t help anyone.

               Marxie is most likely already drunk or tipsy so Eostre doesn’t expect a text back until the morning. Marxie will beg to meet for breakfast at the greasiest joint in the city to help with her hangover and honestly Eostre will agree because she was trash that loved unhealthy food. Eostre looked at the time on her phone, 7:33. “I have to do dishes before I cook, and cooking will take about an hour. I wouldn’t be eating at least until nine or nine-thirty. Aw fuck it, I’ll order from that new Chinese place and see how they do.” Hecate jumps onto the table licking her mouth and paws trying to clean herself. Eostre looks up the restaurant and places an online order for delivery getting way too much food but she wanted to sample a good variety to see if the place was decent.

               The food is estimated to be at her door in about forty minutes or so. Plenty of time to get some shit done meaning watching YouTube. She pulls up a video about two grown men seeing if something would taco. Oh, pine needles in a taco shell doesn’t work. Who would have thought? As Eostre watches she absentmindedly pets Hecate. Hecate starts to move in circles to make sure all the best areas get their scratches. While circling, Hecate trips over the small box causing it to fall onto the other chair. She meows and follows the box onto the chair. She begins tapping it with her paw and sniffing it. “Oh yeah the mail,” Eostre reaches over and picks up the box and envelopes. The envelopes just contained junk and a statement for that month’s power bill. She looks at the box and sees that it is addressed to Ms. Constance Montgomery in 607. Eostre occasionally gets her mail and is the reason she has met Ms. Montgomery in the first place. Eostre had accidentally opened the package thinking it was the expensive bowl holder she had ordered for Hecate but found different varieties of dried plants. She realized her mistake and apologized profusely to Ms. Montgomery who had in turn gotten Eostre’s package, though she was smart to read the name on the box before tearing into it without care.

               “I’ll give them to her tomorrow, its too late to go bug her right now. I know she says that she normally goes to sleep early,” she places the package back onto the table and instantly Hecate is rubbing against it. “I’ll take this as an opportunity as you telling me to buy myself something so you can have the box to play in. Noted.” Eostre scratches behind the black cat’s ears and hears her phone vibrate. “Listen here you beautiful bitch of mine. I am fucking drunk and expect you to text me to text you in the morning so we can go gorge ourselves on Sammie’s breakfast plate. I’m gonna chug the shit out of this fucking Fireball and go pass out. Luv you bitch.” Marxie knows how to charm a girl doesn’t she. “Well, at least I know what I am doing first thing in the morning. I don’t know if I’ll wait to deliver this package before or after breakfast. After does give me the chance to pick up a cup of tea for Ms. Montgomery. I’ll do after because of that.” Knocking interrupts her thoughts of tea and breakfast signaling that her current food had arrived.

               Eostre walks to the front door making sure the shirt covers all the bits she doesn’t want seen. She opens the door and is greeted by the delivery woman, who hands over the food. Even though Eostre prepaid for the food and tip, she hands the woman another five dollars to add onto it. The woman thanks her and wishes her a good night before walking away. Eostre shuts the door and walks to the kitchen to look through her small pile of fried goods. Sweet and sour chicken but will only use a small portion of the actual sauce mainly because she likes the fried chicken? Check. Cream cheese wontons? Check. Noodles? Check. Hot and Spicy soup? Check. And egg drop soup? Check. Two egg rolls? Also check. “I swear this wasn’t this much when I was checking out. I need to work out and eat better,” she grabs a fork from her drawer, and she would get a spoon if she had any clean ones. She hates herself but she also grabs the plastic spoon to use for her at home buffet. She grabs her loot and clicks her tongue for Hecate to follow her into the living room.

               She places the items on the table in front of her couch and turns on the TV that rests on a decorative stand that she found at Goodwill. She places it on YouTube and continues watching the playlist of will it do this weird food thing. She sits like this for a few hours enjoying the time of the quiet environment, men being weird and consuming weird things, and eating some bomb Chinese food. Hecate falls asleep on the couch behind her after unsuccessfully stealing food from the different containers. She was given a small bit of chicken with no breading but nothing else.

               When it hits ten Eostre decides its time to place leftovers in the fridge and head onto bed. This doesn’t mean sleeping exactly but it may happen eventually. She replaces the covers on the containers and turns off the TV. She checks and double checks the front door is locked along with the side balcony door in the kitchen. The lights are turned off leaving only pale-yellow dots of various night lights dotting different areas of the apartment. Hecate is at her heels as they both enter her bedroom, both ready for the ultimate level of comfort. Eostre removes some of the clothes from this morning off the bed and puts her phone on the charger. She turns off the lights in the room save the one night light in the corner socket. She lets herself get comfortable before Hecate chooses her spot. Eostre lays in bed and plays on her phone until her mind is quiet.

[isisisak]

@evakteket fall challenge 

(that I demanded like the brat I am and Kit delivered so awesomely)

1 – Coffee Shop AU     3 – Cold Snap     3 – Beanie Hats ---

Everything looked tinged in gold in this season. He never really knew when it started; was it a certain date? Just a random day? Did it happen gradually? Who knew, it always crept up on Even, one moment everything was green and the next the whole world seemed yellow and cozy and just so nice.

This feeling only grew when the little bell above the door went off and his favorite customer came in. Even couldn't hide the smile spreading on his face as he spotted the by now familiar golden curls.  

“Halla!” he greeted and leaned forward, both hands on the counter. He could never help the movement or, well, he didn’t really register it at first. Not until Elias – who thankfully was in the back and couldn’t see him drool all over the counter – had mentioned that he always swayed toward Isak.  

Isak. That was his name. Even had only found that out through what he thought had been a genius stunt: He had taken his order and then said “Name?” with a pen ready at the to go cup in his hand.  

The thing was, at Starbucks they always asked the customer's name. The little coffeeshop Even worked at however? He hadn't had asked once the past few weeks since Isak had been coming to get his daily coffee fix in the morning. This meant that the question didn't come across as casual or inconspicuous as Even had hoped for.  

“Uuh, Isak,” the boy had responded quietly. Isak then cleared his throat awkwardly, his brows furrowing even more. Even had grinned at him and nodded.  

“Isak,” he’d repeated quietly as he wrote the name on the cup (and stopped himself before he drew a heart on it or something) and when he looked up again there had been a red tinge to the boy’s cheeks.

 Now, there was a tinge to his cheeks too, and on the tips of his ears, but sadly it was more likely due to the sudden coldsnap that had taken Oslo by surprise than Even's presence behind the counter. Isak shuddered a bit and lifted his arm, as if to reach for one of his seemingly frozen ears, but lowered it onto the counter instead.  

“Hi.” He sounded a bit breathless, a sheepish smile spreading on his face. “Fucking cold.”    

“No hat?” Even asked with a scolding tsk, reaching for the already prepared (read: doodled on) to go cup and began with the usual order before Isak could say anything.  

“No,” Isak sighed, “Jonas took mine when he left this morning.” A fond eyeroll followed that. Oh. Jonas. Even felt his smile falter a bit. He saw Isak’s dim a bit, too, after he looked at him. Even forced the brightest smile back on his lips.

“That’s not very gallant of Jonas.” The name tasted bitter. Or maybe he was just being dramatic. Of course, that cute golden boy had someone in his life already and wasn’t waiting for Even to swoop him off his feet, one doodled on coffee at a time.  

Isak tilted his head to the side and shrugged. “No, he can be a dick.” He sounded fond as hell as he said it, though. It took all of Even not to pout at that.  

He put the finishing touches to Isak’s order and then he slid the finished coffee over the counter towards him.

“Takk.” Isak smiled and looked curiously at the cup because, fuck. Even had begun to doodle random things on them a while ago. Mostly doodles of Isak with his books, or with a huge coffee, or with a red nose the week he fought a cold or sometimes just something that inspired Even in the moment (for example a squirrel that looked suspiciously like a certain boy with curls that escaped a beanie on his head, the huge scarf and a backpack beside it).  

Today though, Even had decided to be bold, and had drawn Isak sitting on the ground, face buried in his scarf, hands clasped around his steaming mug of coffee and beside Isak there was a doodled guy - who, with his coif and denim jacket looking very much like himself - an arm draped around Isak’s shoulders.

Isak stared at it.  

Was running away something he could play off next time Isak came around? Because it felt pretty tempting now.  

He had to come up with something that would spare them both the awkwardness of Isak telling Even this was not ok, since he had a hat-stealing boyfriend to go home to. But all that played on repeat in his mind was fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.  

Isak, eyes on the counter, inhaled deeply and then rushed “CanImaybegetyournumber?” out on an exhale.  

Even - needing a second to decipher the mumbled words - stared at Isak, who bit the side of his lips and let his eyes look at everything but Even’s face.  

“Uhm,” Isak started but Even’s brain finally kicked to a start again.  

“My number?” he asked, sounding so perplex that it made Isak snap his eyes back up to him. He looked like a deer caught in headlights.  

“Uhm, uh, yeah but I mean I- you don’t ha-“ Isak stammered out and then seemed to decide that flight was the better option because he suddenly loudly cleared his throat, lifted the hand that wasn’t holding the coffee and did a little awkward wave. “-anyway thank you for the coffee, bye.” And turned on his heels.  

“Wha- wait, wait, wait! Isak!” Isak was already in the door when Even called after him. He hesitated for a second and then closed the door again. The bell ringing, again, as Isak turned around in slow motion.

  “Jonas.” Even said, because his brain decided it was time for a break once again.

Isak’s eyes widened. “What?” He looked quite shocked to be honest. Then again, Even thought, if you ask for someone’s number and they answer with the name of your boyfriend that could startle a person. Oh, right, his turn to talk.

“Uhm, should you not just have, uhm, Jonas’ number?” It made no sense but he thought it would bring the point across without calling Isak out for cheating and also, hinting that this was a big no no for him.  

Isak screwed his face up and it was hands down the most adorable thing Even had ever seen. His nose scrunched up and crinkled, his eyes were almost non-existent with the force he drew his face together with.  

“Why would I have only Jonas’ number? Hva faen, Even?” The exasperated and overly dramatic way Isak said his name made butterflies flutter in Even’s stomach.

“He has your hat.” Even explained weakly. At first Isak shook his head in confusion, but then understanding dawned on his face. His mouth dropped open and after a second longer he snorted out a laugh.  

“No! Oh my god, no. No no no no no. Jonas is just my best friend. He crashed because we were so high last night he was convinced he’d freeze to death if he left my flat.”  

Oh. Ooh.  

“Oh.” This was great news. Fantastic news. Even felt his face morph into a relieved smile.  

“Yeah.” Isak answered on a chuckle, then he shuffled with his feet nervously. “Yeah, soo…” he began and bit the side of his lips again.  

Even’s eyes lit up with the knowledge that he 1. already knew that this was a nervous gesture of Isak’s and 2. that that meant Isak was nervous. Nervous if Even would give him his number. Isak wanted his number. Isak wanted his number and was not taken.  

“Yes!” It came out too loud in the small room and they both jumped a bit.  

Even grabbed for another to go cup and began scrabbling his number on it. (Of course, he made a mistake and had to scratch through a digit. He hesitated for only a moment before he made the scratched out digit into a heart he had wanted to draw for forever.)

When he held the cup out, Isak came back to the counter and took it, grinning. He looked giddy. He looked adorable! He looked perfect.  

“Do you write all your stuff on these?” Isak asked and Even raised his brows before he pursed his lips to the side to try to at least tame his answering grin.  

“It was either that or write it on your arm, but I thought the cup would be the more classy choice.” Isak let out a laugh - ok hey there was Even’s new favorite sound alright – and rolled his eyes fondly, after which he looked up at Even through his lashes. There was a crooked smile that lifted one side of his mouth and Even felt his eyes dart down to those Cupid’s bow lips. When his eyes flicked back up, he saw Isak look at his own lips. Hands on the counter again, Even felt himself sway forward.  

“Jesus, I swear it’s like you two have connecting magnets inside of you.” Elias’ voice cut through the charged moment. His best friend squeezed past him behind the counter, arms loaded with the newly arrived autumn to go cups.  

“Uhm, yeah ok, uh, thanks.” A very red Isak mumbled now, holding his cup up and then added, “again,” with a small chuckle, before he was out the door for real this time.

“Did I interrupt something?” The innocent tone in Elias’ voice was betrayed by the huge smug grin on his face.

“Fuck you.” It lacked heat, though, since Even laughed while he said the words. Elias laughed too, dodging the towel Even threw at him and clapped Even on the back before he moved past him again for more cups. Even was already excited to start on new doodles for Isak on them.  

Still grinning Even fished his phone out of his pocket. Damn it, he should’ve asked for Isak’s number back. It itched in his fingers to text him already.  

His train of thought was interrupted by a ping from his phone.   

unknown number: ❤️ Forget the butterflies, Even felt something stomp around in there. Isak fucking answered the heart Even had drawn on the cup. After he saved Isak’s number and before he had time to come up with what to respond with he saw the three dots appear. Shortly after that:  

🍂 Isak 🍂 oh it’s isak btw the heart was because of your heart you gave me fuck I meant the one you drew on the cup not anything cheesy  

Even laughed out loud and decided to end Isak’s rambled suffering. He fucking loved autumn. 

[regrettablewritings]

Dating Wade Wilson Would Include

AN: This is going to be a bit more perverse than the other Would Includes because, hey, it’s Wade.

Being very confused when he starts talking to no-one and looking elsewhere tells the audience about how awesome and badass he is

You will get used to it, you have no other choice really

Sometimes you will also jokingly throw in something you want him to narrate (like how amazing you think he is or something that makes you seem wonderful)

This will always, without fail, result in Wade turning back to no-one the audience so he can gush about how wonderful you are

Chances are, you met because he was out doing as Deadpool does: wrecking havoc getting the job done with a few unpredictable setbacks on construction, property damages, and people being alive

You won’t even let him convince you otherwise, but you might’ve been a bit scared when you first saw him

“Might” meaning you definitely were -- the dude had just shoved a katana through a thug when he noticed you, frozen in place, and practically vomited up hearts and butterflies

He then had the audacity man-sized balls of courage and boldness audacity to waltz (skip) right up to you as if nothing had happened and try to strike up a charming conversation

Once you got over the initial shock and scrambled away, he wanted to follow but wound up having to stay behind and deal with un-aliving some other punks

You’re not even sure how Wade tracked you down after that because all he ever offers is “the plot demands it”

Once you got over his beyond bizarre mannerisms, though, and allowed yourself to let your guard down a bit and talk to him, however, you found out he could be pretty harmless in regards to those he wanted to establish a connection of sorts with

“The most pain I cause to you is making your gut hurt from laughing so much! . . . That is, until we finally get into BDSM --”

Once he got over the pain established by the slap to the face, he asked if you wouldn’t mind applying that same treatment to his ass.

Geez, Wade, keep it in your jumpsuit.

“No!”

Crude jokes

This can go a few ways, depending on how comfortable you are with Wade’s sense of humor

If you, too, are a connoisseur of crudeness then congratulations: You just found out what you guys spend an uncanny amount of time doing when not doing . . . other things

If you’re not that into it, Wade will respect this but still lapse into it out of habit. It’s a part of his character, though, so don’t expect him to completely forgo it. He’ll just try to avoid using his alpha-level stuff and try to keep it at a beta level.

But if you humor him every once in a while and throw in your own nasty language, you swear you can see him blushing even through the red of his mask

Speaking of which, for as confident and bold as he appeared at first, you quickly came to realize that this was more or less a front to an extent when Wade refused to remove his mask

It would take a while for him to even so much as lift it up for you to see his infamous mouth

Honestly, there’s a possibility that he won’t let you see the entirety of his face unless an argument started up out of you, yet again, asking “what the big deal is.”

To be honest, you are startled. But only for a moment.

As you told him, “I’ve seen worse; usually on the people who’ve gotten on your bad side.”

He enthusiastically attempts to make chimichangas in celebration but winds up burning them on accident from being too eager

Putting his crayon drawings on the fridge

“Wow, I love the direction of blood-splatter in this one, Hun!” “Knew you would! I used a vermilion crayon for that part -- real delicacy amongst the Crayola Clan.”

Meeting Blind Al a handful of times, but mostly only in the brief stints where Wade actually takes you back to his place

Wade much prefers going to your place because it’s nice and cozy

And because your place has a stove and oven that have yet to be damaged by his cooking antics

And because at the end of a long, rough day of slaughtering, it feels nice to be surrounded by your scent and essence as it envelopes him in a softness he hasn’t experienced since his time before he became the Merc with a Mouth if you guys decide to get down and dirty, he gets to annoy an entirely new set of neighbors and avoid getting heckled at by Al. And on that note . . .

Sex: Once again, this can go a variety of ways, depending on your feelings towards the subject.

If you’re all for it (and have seen the movie), then you can have a pretty good idea of what you’re probably in for. Good luck and be safe.

If you’re not entirely put off by it but prefer to wait, Wade will be understanding (maybe even teasing and gently calling you a “precious little lamby-poo”). But he’s still going to occasionally test the waters. This will include walking around shirtless (especially after a shower), making loud and obnoxious yet still somehow appealing noises when he stretches or exercises, throwing in perverted jokes, asking you for porn recommendations, etc. However, he’ll keep it to a minimum if he feels you’re getting uncomfortable.

If you’re not that into it, if at all, Wade may honestly be put off. At first. Eventually, he’ll decide that while sex is something he very much enjoys, he also very much enjoys having you around to love and love him right back. Besides, that just means he gets to experiment more with toys!

Lots of pancakes and Mexican food

Just. A lot.

You’re gonna be crapping like a goose quite often, just sayin’

Arguments, while not necessarily common, still happen. And they’re usually the result of you accusing Wade of not taking things seriously

Wade’s entire approach to life relies heavily on casting humor in everything -- even if he doesn’t always feel it. But it’s a facade that’s helped him, if not other people, and he’s so used to looking out for himself that it just makes sense to keep on doing things this way.

Unfortunately, sometimes he gets a little too out of hand and can feel immature.

Fights usually end with you leaving to cool off and him stewing alone with the voices and the audience. Eventually, one or the other (usually the voices) remind him that he’s not a lone wolf anymore and that he needs to consider other people again. To which he winds up having a montage about you and feels awful and oh my god, (Y/N), I’m so sorry, please let me treat you to some froyo and then I’ll let you tie me up and you can do whatever you want with me even if it means watching that shitty  Green Lantern movie with that punk, Ryan Reynolds, and --

You have to demand for him to get down from the Starbucks counter that he’s decided to give his proclamation and apologies from about ten times before he realizes you’re about to kick his ass

Fights coming from Wade, however, are when you know you’ve messed up. They rarely happen but when they do, 9/10 it’s about your safety

Yeah, it’s cheesy and cliche, but you know what else is cliche? The protagonist’s love interest getting hurt or killed because of him. And Wade isn’t about to go through that again.

He only really gets like this when a new threat has become present in the city’s underbelly, though, so for the most part, he’s cool

Learning your way around certain weapons

From his days as a regular-looking merc to the current days where he’s a merc who looks like he’d rubbed his face in a briar patch, Wade has been a master with weaponry.

He wants to make sure that you, too, can properly use them should the time come for him to gather up his allies for a climatic showdown at a warehouse or something

You don’t get it, but you go along with his lessons

To his glee, you take to guns pretty well once you get used to the kick

When you hit a couple of bullseyes in a row, Wade will not hesitate to tell you how aroused he is

You’re not as good with swords, but that’s okay: “We can be a tag-team, babe! You got the guns and I got the swords! We’ll be so fucking cool -- Holy shit, I gotta get you a suit to match. It’s gonna be hot!! . . . Both literally and, like, not literally. This thing is tight; you’re gonna sweat like a member of the Trump cabinet getting questioned by the press.”

Making . . . acquaintances with the guys at Sister Margaret’s. You wouldn’t necessarily call them friends but you have a pretty good feeling that if something were to possibly happen to you, a decent number of them would at least make an effort to have your back

Mainly because you’re dating Wade and therefore are friends with Weasel

If Wade isn’t around to be your partner in crime or vice-versa, Weasel is your stand-in.

As such, you tag-team loving insults at Wade from time to time.

Okay, your insults are loving; Weasel’s are about as brutal as a true friend’s should be.

You both stand as the Straight Men boring people to Wade’s hare-brained totally well thought-out thoughts

Meeting Colossus and Negasonic during one of Wade’s trips to the X-Men Mansion.

Wade insists that there are other mutants around the house, but there wasn’t enough in the budget for you to meet them

Colossus, while hesitant about someone like you being with Wade, is ultimately just glad that there’s someone around him to potentially keep him grounded since he can’t seem to get through to the Merc

Negasonic seems indifferent to you and even snarkily asks what’s up with you two and why you’re with Wade. But ultimately, she doesn’t think you’re bad. She even threatens a smile when you tell Wade to knock off trying to tease her.

Wade introducing Spiderman as, “The one I’d be with if you hadn’t bewitched me with that figure of yours.”

You try to forgo this and carry on a decent conversation with the other red suit-wearing hero

You and Peter are now friends and exchange texts often, catching movies when you’re home alone and bored and Peter has free time

This, of course, causes Wade to whine and flail like a jealous child and accuse you guys of friend-cheating behind his back.

The best way to silence this is to have a game night or movie night or invite Peter over for Taco Tuesday

Humorous conversations of every shape and breed

You ever woken up in the middle of the night wondering what unicorn farts smell like? If you don’t, Wade will. And you’d best believe that you’re going to talk about it.

No subject really seems to be off limits for you two.

Except for his past to a certain point.

When you guys first started talking, it threw you off and into a canyon by how brazen he was to talk about certain topics that most people would be horrified to even ask about. Eventually he got the idea that you weren’t entirely comfortable with answering some of them, however, and he attempted to lighten up. Eventually, though, when you got comfortable enough, you answered them and asked them right back

Becoming a pro at cleaning up messes -- specifically, blood

You’ve learned to budget to afford copious amounts of bleach and color guard and rubbing alcohol since getting serious with Wade

You tell him time and time again to stop coming into your apartment, thinking it’s okay to drip blood into the damn carpet, couch, or bed sheets but does he listen?

Does Wade ever turn down Mexican food?

You’re not one for sewing up deep wounds, however. You confirmed this after insisting such to him when he asked you to patch up a cleave mark to his chest. Her persisted, and you regurgitated. He apologized, and you had to go lie down on the couch which still smelled of bleach from the last time Wade had arrived.

Those rare but sweet moments where you guys just feel like a normal couple.

Wade is quiet for once and you two aren’t feeling up on each other, but just enjoying each other’s company. Your conversations are simple, but they don’t need to be complex for you to understand what the other is getting at.

Peaceful moments are a rarity for Wade, given his mutation and lifestyle. So there’s a special air about the room whenever these moments occur . . .

They are often broken (and rather quickly) but the smell of something burning in the oven and Wade scrambling up screaming, “MY TAMALES!!”

Nicknames galore between you two.

Wade, having almost no sense of self-censorship, goes wild with what he calls you: Pretty Princess, Unicorn Warrior, Player 2, Sugartits, Babe, Hot Stuff, Sweet Stuff, Beloved Apple of My Eye, My Darling (Y/N), Tootsie Pop, Baby, Sugar, Honeypot, You Beautiful Fool, and Reader (he never explains this one to you, only winks) to name a few. Honestly, you’re pretty sure he just makes them as he goes along because he’s also whipped out some nonsense ones from things that just happen to catch his eye like French Fries, Burrito, Fire Escape, Glow-in-the-Dark Limited Edition ACDC Poster (GDLEACDC for short)

You try to keep up, but usually wind up sticking to basics because keeping up with Wade can be exhausting: Honey, Babe, Bae, Daddypool, Wadey, D.W. (Double W), King Avocado, Chimichampion, Sweetie, Sweetums, and Sugarpants. You also call him Prince, but that’s for special occasions as you’ll see further below . . .

Laughter

God, you don’t remember laugh so much in your entire life!

Even if you and Wade don’t necessarily share the same sense of humor, the man has a gift: He can always find something or someway to put a wide smile on your face and make you cackle until your face, stomach, and even the back of your head hurt.

The laugh lines you begin to develop are what Wade finds the sexiest about your looks.

After dat sweet ass of yours

Pain. It’s inevitable. Because as resilient as Wade is both in personality and physically, it’s all due to a painful, ongoing process from which he will likely never be cured.

Usually, he’s fine: He can go days, even weeks without noticing the pain or even feeling it all together. He describes it as something that occasionally fades due to constant exposure to it, so he’s fine and dandy to go out, grab a drink, visit an arcade, kill a dude, take a jog in the park . . . You know, the usual stuff.

But other days . . . It’s bad

Other days, he can’t even get out of bed. The pain is excruciating to the point where even the tears that seep out sting

You want to hold him through this -- he wants you to hold him through this. But it’s a just plain bad idea.

The most you can do is be nearby him, make your presence quietly known, feed him soft, nurturing foods that won’t draw as much attention to how sensitive he is. He also will ask you to read to him. He says he doesn’t care what, but you’ve noticed he critiques less when it’s children’s fairytales.

You’re pretty positive that when you read stories about the prince saving a princess, he’s imagining himself saving you. Only he’s the way he used to look, and not some batter-faced bozo with a whole lot of problems on his plate.

You therefore make it a point to call him Prince when he’s in such a vulnerable state. You want him to know that you love him as is; to hell with those cliche fairytales and what they think beauty is! This is your story and you’re going to damn-well look like it, not having some beings from Mt. Olympus come down and portray you! (Though Wade would very much like to be played by Hugh Jackman. I mean, he’s not doing Wolverine anymore, so he’s got an open spot now, right? Right??)

Wade’s resilience helping him pull through the agony. And once he’s back on his feet, he’s quick to smother you with hugs and kisses.

Because even though he may seem to overdo it to the point where it may not appear genuine, Wade adores you, he appreciates you. He practically worships the ground you walk on, if in a way that only Wade could probably pull off and still seem charming. And he never wants you to doubt that.

Because you listen to him, you care for him, you stick by his side despite knowing exactly what he does and what it entails. You put up with him and his shit not just on a friendly level, but a romantic one and well and he sometimes has trouble comprehending it and has to talk to nothing the audience just to sort out his thoughts and conclude, yet again, that you’re goddamn amazing and he doesn’t deserve someone like you in spite of your insisting otherwise. (Of course, he’ll easily accept your argument that he does deserve you and tackle you with cuddles.)

And in this world, it’s you, him, the audience, and the voices. And if it all came down to it, Wade would and always will choose you to be the companion he wants to talk to the most. About everything and nothing, until the end of time.

[spiteandalice]

Judas Touch Pt 3

Alright. This is a bit on the shorter side but it’s mostly angry smut so maybe that makes up for it?

As per request :3 @beautifulramblingbrains and @beltz2016

PART ONE    PART TWO 

Warning: contains language, violence, smut and… violent smut

It’s astonishing how the initiates behave like blind monkeys in a ball pit during training but seem to be able to do just fine when they get into a fight while unsupervised. Two boys, Erudite and Candor, are busy reconstructing their faces when we walk in and for once Eric has to shove his way through the crowd instead of watching it part for him. Nobody really breaks up fights here unless it’s getting too close to losing a member over a cup of chocolate pudding, but these aren’t members,  they’re initiates. There is no emotional attachment whatsoever and the morbid curiosity we all have has time to shine. Humans are extremely fucked up, if you think about it, I had months to reflect on that.

I grab the Erudite by the hair and yank his head down while simultaneously kicking the legs out from under him so I can straddle his back, pinning his arms down with my knees. Thanks to the shock of someone actually knowing how to hurt him he doesn’t put up much of a fight, even after he is pinned and had time to process what I did to him. It gives me plenty of time to watch Eric handle the Candor, who is so in the zone that he’s trying to take on a Dauntless leader. Again, we seem to get not only the brave but also the reckless and that usually equals stupidity. Eric sighs, dodges a sloppy punch with barely any effort and draws his fist back to knock the guy out with a punch to the face. And he didn’t even put much weight behind the movement, which in turn doesn’t help the fact that I am still soaking wet. Moments like this fascinate me because he is always so calm and controlled but if you look closely you can see the turmoil behind his eyes. Not just controlled anger, which is a beautiful sight to behold all on it’s own. He would have been a perfect Erudite and sometimes I do wonder how he ended up here, in spite of the obvious embodiment of what Dauntless now stands for. And why that Matthews woman was so interested in him. Still is. 

Maybe I’ll ask him one day.

After I’m done beating the shit out of him for leaving it up to me to figure out why the hell those two were fighting, he has to go visit his old faction and cozy up to their leader. During my time as ambassador I only had two official visits to the brainy faction, both things Eric couldn’t be bothered with. The other times he took care of matters and I have to say that I wasn’t really eager to deal with that woman - she doesn’t like me, and the dislike is mutual. She once alluded to me being a possible distraction for him and she does not appreciate any kinks in her well manicured plans. I laughed at her and left, because there is absolutely nothing on this forsaken planet that can stop Eric once he is set in motion. It’s one of the things I admire about him.

“So,” I spit, walking in front of the Candor with my hands folded behind my back, which seems to be an automatic leader gesture, “care to enlighten me why you thought it would be a good idea to try and murder your fellow initiate? A very pathetic attempt, may I add, but one nonetheless.”

The Candor is still beyond pissed, which is why I decided to interrogate him first, while the anger is still fresh. Once he had time to cool down and the anger turned sour he’ll just turn into a sarcastic little shit and I really don’t feel like slapping him around much today. I’m saving that for Eric.

“He was talking shit about my sister,” he growls and I stop in my tracks, unable to keep myself from shooting him an incredulous look. What exactly is it about faction before blood that these morons don’t understand? Every damn year someone is howling about their damn family like they’re all special little babies that don’t actually have to listen to a single damn thing we have been telling them and it drives me insane. This faction is far from perfect but if these inbred degenerates come in and refuse to even try we might as well throw in the towel and pick up a nice little retirement hobby. Maybe Eric can crochet or do a little bit of woodwork. I know he’d tell me he has some wood for me to work on because all men are secretly twelve.

But back to the task at hand. I chew the guy out for his transgressions and leave him to the kitchen staff for some serious cleaning duties,  I know that the place needs it badly. The Erudite fucktard can go clean toilets across the compound and that leaves me facing a wall of reports when I get back to my office. I could swear I heard Max giggle through the door of his office. He’s dead.

It’s way past ten and I’m in the middle of a little cardio on the living room floor when I hear the door. I’m not even bothering to acknowledge his presence because I’m still pissed, but if there’s something Eric hates it’s being ignored. Or disrespected. Or losing. Or people who lack ambition. Meatloaf Fridays. The list could go on and on.

I’m on all fours, pumping my right leg up and down in spite of the way my body screams at me. Pain can go suck it, I will win this. A different kind of pain digs into my hips and pulls me back against him, which is his way of demanding my undivided attention. I snarl and kick his thigh, which should hurt even though I’m barefoot. With a grunt his grip on my hips tightens and he lifts me up to turn me over, which I gladly accommodate, my legs wrap around his neck and I squeeze my thighs together, trapping his head. If I thought I had him I’m way too cocky and need a reality check, because he grins wolfishly and nips at me, grazing my clit with his teeth through the thin fabric of my shorts.

Using my abdominal muscles I push my upper body upwards, not my best move because my crotch is now pressed right against his face and Eric lazily trails his tongue over the fabric, causing it to soak through in mere moments which admittedly is not all him. My hands lift to yank at his hair but he knows what I’m up to and grabs my wrists, pinning then to my sides.  As far as brute strength goes he is always winning, especially right now, and he knows it. Suddenly the world around me tilts and because I was distracted by his mouth I’m not prepared for my impact on the floor. It stuns me for a few moments while I try to breathe and that’s all it takes for him to shred the shorts that I just bought.

With an angry growl I kick at his chest and send him on his ass, he didn’t exactly go flying but that’ll have to do for now. I pounce after him and twist his shirt collar just to cut off the circulation a little. My other hand reaches under me to find his damn zipper but he decided that I had enough time to enjoy myself and stands up,  his arm wrapped around me tightly.  Before I can bite at his neck more than once he turns me around and holds me in place by wrapping his arm around my throat, so if I struggle too much I’m cutting off all circulation and I can’t breathe. I still twist and kick, he slips his hands beneath my legs, humming appreciatively at the fact that even my thighs are slick and wet by now.

“How come you get so violent and wet at the same time, hm. Almost as if you’re some sick little bitch that gets off on it.”

Eric runs a wet finger over my lips, spreading my own juices across my mouth. I growl and bite his finger, hard, and he chuckles but I can feel his cock twitch where it’s pressed against my ass.

“Takes one to know one,” I grind out between gritted teeth, I’m angry because he so easily pins me, even though I know it’s due to my injuries, lack of training and malnutrition. He seems to really enjoy himself though, I suspect there aren’t that many women who can keep up with him even if they want to. I hear the sound of his belt buckle hitting the floor and it sends a shiver of pleasure through me. That belt has played quite the role in our relationship so far… 

My moment comes when he pulls off his shirt, his grip on me loosens enough for me to twist around and jab him in the ribs. Using my full weight I push him down and he hisses when he tumbles backwards and pulls me with him so I’m straddling his lap. One quick snap of both our hips, perfectly synchronized, and he’s inside me. It’s almost eerie, sometimes, to see how we seem to think the same things, at the same time and then act the same way. It’s probably where the secret twin rumor comes from.

Not willing to give in to him so easily I bury my hand in his hair and yank, wanting to expose his throat to my teeth, but before I can lean forward his hand wraps around my throat and he squeezes. We stare each other down, I’m pulling, he’s squeezing and I rock my hips against his in a frantic rhythm, knowing that the release I’m looking for will be just as violent as this is right now. And oh so satisfying.

My muscles tighten around him and Eric hisses, his grip around my throat slipping slightly. It’s those little moments where his control slips that I’m looking for, that I absolutely fucking live for, because I know that he hates it when it happens. And maybe, just maybe, I’m arrogant enough to firmly believe that I’m the only one that’s capable of doing this to him.

We’re both slick with sweat and my skin slides against his, I let the nails of my free hand rake down his throat since he won’t let me bite him. His hand tightens again and my vision begins to blur around the edges, just slightly. Eric knows exactly how much pressure to use and when to stop, and I hate to admit it but it’s fucking hot. Just a little more and I gasp, I’m not sure if it’s the lack of air or the orgasm that suddenly slams my body out of this world that is responsible for my temporary loss of vision, but I don’t care at all. I want to scream but I can’t, all that comes out around the pressure of his hand is low and strangled and I’m vaguely aware of my nails digging into his throat. As I come down and my tensed up muscles begin to relax so does his hand around my neck and I take a deep, shuddering breath, moaning again as my lungs fill. I look at him, his eyes never left mine for one second since I slid on his cock and I grin, lifting my hand from his neck to my mouth to suck on every single finger to clean them, I did draw a little blood. Eric shudders and grabs my hips, his fingers digging into my bruised flesh once more. He keeps me down and grinds me against him, once, twice, before he stills and bites down on my shoulder with a guttural sound that makes me smile.

Without a word I get up and gather the tattered remains of my clothes, that I just bought by the way, and head for the bathroom, absolutely intending to lock the door on him. I’m still angry at him for disappearing to Erudite once more and for generally being an asshole, even though I can’t really fault him for the latter without being a complete hypocrite.

“Have you been to the infirmary yet?”

To my credit… I manage not to stop dead in my tracks, I manage to hide my shock fairly well and I keep walking away from him.

“You know that I haven’t, you’re keeping tabs on me. I’m going tomorrow, want to come watch them make sure you can’t knock me up?”

Eric mutters something I can’t understand and I roll my eyes, which he can’t see so it’s purely for my own pleasure. What an idiot. I slam the bathroom door shut behind me and make sure to lock it so he can’t follow me into the shower. Serves him right. I’ll probably pay for it once I get out, but that’s a risk I am more than willing to take.

PART FOUR

[moosebeans]

All of the TØP asks!

Answered. After six months. Answered.

It took me ages so better appreciate it 😂I had to do it on mobile bc my laptop’s not working :D 

*SELF TITLED*IMPLICIT DEMAND FOR PROOF: what’s your biggest fear?I mean, like except for death, probably not being enough (what a greeeaaat start)FALL AWAY: what was the last lie you told to yourself?‘That’s not wrong’THE PANTALOON: have you ever been deeply affected by a death?I don’t think so, because the last time someone from my closest family died was when my great-grandmother died and I was 6 then so I don’t even remember her that much.ADDICT WITH A PEN: have you ever felt that what you want the most is out of your reach?Hahahaha I’m feeling this almost everyday, next question pleaseFRIEND, PLEASE: have you ever had to talk someone out of making a big mistake?Yes. I won’t tell the details bc you know, privacy, but I’m incredibly happy I managed to do so.MARCH TO THE SEA: do you conform or go against the standards?I’m not a rebel but definitely I’m more of going against the rules, but only if they are wrong.JOHNY BOY: who in your life is sort of unsung hero?Let’s just take a moment to appreciate @has-a-crisisOH MS BELIEVER: someone whom you wish were more confident of themselves?@has-a-crisis and @itsskylerblue and @justanotherduke you guys are wonderful and I don’t understand why you can’t believe that 💛💜AIR CATCHER: have you ever been afraid to tell someone you love them?Not really. Maybe bc I’ve never been in love lmao but if you mean platonic love, I don’t really like telling that bc I’m always scared that that person will let me down eventually and I’ll be sad that they’ve meant that much to me and they knew that.TRAPDOOR: is there something you hide from everyone, even the people close to you?I tend to hide my feelings and my mental state bc I don’t want to overwhelm anyone with mine problems as they already have theirs :’)A CAR, A TORCH, A DEATH: do you love somebody do much you are willing to die for them?Definitely yes, buuttt I’d rather Live for them (what a Ride reference)TAXI CAB: what do you believe will happen to you after you die?Ok, so I’m trying to believe there is some afterlife, and if there is I hope I can get to heaven (or just the good option in general if it’s not heaven), but for now I can’t say I’m sure it will happen so like. idk manBEFORE YOU START YOUR DAY: what is the song that make you feel confident?You mean one? Here’s a whole list: fairly local, lane boy, famous last words, my songs know what you did in the dark, misery (by blink-182) and if I had more time I’d list much moreISLE OF FLIGHTLESS BIRDS: what holds you back from reaching your whole potential?My lovely insecurities, thanks for asking. Seriously, there isn’t any specific one.

*REGIONAL AT BEST*GUNS FOR HANDS: how do you redirect negative thoughts?I don’t really redirect them, I basically just try to forget them by listening to loud music lmao :’)HOLDING ON TO YOU: who do you come to when you need help?@has-a-crisis, @justanotherduke and, thanks to the time zones, (the only good thing about them) when it’s too late there’s always @itsskylerblue awake(the whole thing will just be about them I guess)ODE TO SLEEP: are you a night owl or an early riser?Definitely the night owl. Although I prefer to be called a bat.SLOWTOWN: a day you’d relive over and over again if you could?3/11/2016 my tøp concertCAR RADIO: do you prefer to listen to radio or your own music in the car?Lemmie tell you. The songs on the radio are NOT as okay as that one song suggests. But if it’s an actual long journey then crappy pop is a part of the aesthetic.FOREST: something that didn’t go how you had planned?Like my teenage years for example??GLOWING EYES: what are your dreams like?Well sometimes they are amazing and I wish I didn’t wake up. Sometimes they are messy and cause headaches. Sometimes I have nightmares. And they are absolutely the worst.KITCHEN SINK: have you created something that only you understand?I guess yes? Like, the art I draw is pretty easy to understand but still they surely are some aspects of it only I know?ANATHEMA: what bothers you the most?I’m just never enough. But I don’t have energy to do anything about that.LOVELY: best compliment you’ve ever received?“FUCK that’s good” about my art or “you’re literally alien goddess or what” :) RUBY: have you ever been unexpectedly inspired or affected by someone?Yes. No, you won’t hear details.TREES: someone you wish you could speak to?I’d say… to my mom. I wish I could tell her everything. But it’s not that easy.BE CONCERNED: have you ever questioned something everyone around you firmly believed?Like… does life even have sense?CLEAR: are you an introvert or an extrovert?You see. I’m an extrovert to people I like. But if I’m faced with people I don’t like I’m a total introvert.HOUSE OF GOLD: have you promised something you can’t fulfill until you get older?So many things, honestly, I don’t have time to list them.

*VESSEL*ODE TO SLEEP: have you ever asked someone for forgiveness multiple times?Yes.HOLDING ON TO YOU: do you write in cursive or print?Somewhere between (WHAT A REBEL I AM)MIGRAINE: favourite and least favourite days of the week? Why?Fave- Wednesdays bc I have easy school and I’m still not too tired with the whole weekLeast fave- Sundays and I won’t quote Migraine but more less that’s whyHOUSE OF GOLD: what kind of house do you want to have when you get older?Small but cozy and full of love :’)CAR RADIO: have you ever had anything stolen from you?That one bitch in kindergarten stole my my little ponies once. She got caught and she was defending herself by saying she had to take them on a walk because I kept them inside for too long. Other than that I don’t think so, except someone might have stolen my converse at school but they also might have been thrown away bc I forgot to take them home for winter break as I should SEMI-AUTOMATIC: something you wish you could change from your personality?Idk I could stop being such a salty bitch lmao SCREEN: have you ever pretended to be someone you’re not to impress somebody?I’ve lost count, but I actually don’t do it anymore bc, you know, I stopped giving any effs about whether people like me or not THE RUN AND GO: the last person at whose house you stayed? the last person that stayed at your house?My godparents and for the second one my cousinsFAKE YOU OUT: thing you seem to care about more than most people?I’m really insecure so basically everything that is about me that I don’t like and can’t really change GUNS FOR HANDS: the last lie you told to your parents?“Yeah, I’ll try to go to sleep earlier” or “no, I’m not sad”TREES: someone you wish you could see?(strictly see, no dialogue)I don’t know really? Because just seeing someone is so… not enough if you can’t talk TRUCE: what inspires you to stay alive?My true friends @has-a-crisis, @itsskylerblue and @justanotherduke, a.k.a. the ones I can always count on. Also that small amount of hope that it eventually gets better KITCHEN SINK: have you ever told anyone to go away even though you didn’t want to be alone?Many, many times

*BLURRYFACE*HEAVYDIRTYSOUL: have you ever had to put your dream on hold?Yeah, multi times.STRESSED OUT: whose opinion do you value the most?Probably my friends’ because I know they really care about meRIDE: a fantasy you would never act on?I’d never actually kill the people I sometimes want to.FAIRLY LOCAL: are you typically hot or cold?You mean as a person or do I feel cold or hot? Both answers are cold TEAR IN MY HEART: have you found the tear in my heart?I don’t think so.LANE BOY: have you ever stood up for what you believed in?Yes, multiple times actuallyTHE JUDGE: what’s scarier, the fear or what causes the fear?As a very anxious person I know it’s usually the fear.DOUBT: a doubt that you have that you wish you could shake?If I’m really good at anything or are people just nice to me.POLARIZE: where do you hide your problems?In my diary or in my head.WE DONT BELIEVE WHATS ON TV: do you more value material objects or the intangible?The intangible. I’m actually quite minimalistic so I don’t care about things that much anyway.MESSAGE MAN: when things get hard do you sleep or stay awake?I’m staying AWAKEHOMETOWN: where is your hometown?Warsaw, Poland. Unless you mean something metaphorical then idkNOT TODAY: do you let people get to you?It takes time. A long time.GONER: what is your blurryface like?My blurryface is a mess. Always in the back of my head. When it comes out, everything begins to be too much and everything loses its sense.

Well that was a ride. Congratulations if you actually read it all. Also sorry I’m answering this after literal six months.

[mira74s775509353-blog]

The Conveniences Of Vinyl Railings

Love verandas are called after Love from Shakespeare's Romeo as well as Love. Metal barriers make sure a case where the daily life from the barrier matches the life expectancy of the house. In theaters, the porch was actually in the past a stage-box, but the label is right now normally confined to the aspect of the amphitheater over the gown cycle and also here the picture. If you have a easy but beautiful park seat, you must place this in your balcony. It is actually also a good ornament in your patio so your neighbors will definitely not believe that you fear of all of them yet they will certainly simply assume that you are making your residence wonderful using the patio privacy monitors as design. That will help you safeguard your personal privacy and also together, that will certainly additionally enhance the protection from your property. Purchase a pipe that attaches to your kitchen space sink because this makes irrigating your porch plants much simpler than carting pots of water exterior. You desire to ensure that the planters are visiting huge good enough for the measurements from the plant and to accommodate the plant origins. Nevertheless, you must steer clear of off softwood window farmers as they often tend to rot too promptly. You can easily always obstruct curious stares around your property along with making use of terrace privacy displays without ruining your home view. To reconcile this, as well as making it right this moment, below are some Valentines Time imaginative concepts to obtain you going. Your next step is actually choosing whether you 'd like a simple water yard - only a container filled with water and also some marine vegetations - or even if you 'd like to incorporate a little passion along with a water boast or even push. They are actually effortless to come by at landscape grocery stores, markets as well as shops as well as grow well in plant flowerpots. By confining a veranda the benefits from solar gain, organic lighting as well as all-natural venting lower man-made power demand. There are actually few enjoyments to match resting on your spine once again balcony, deck, balcony or even patio area ... and also checking out a gorgeous range from birds sweeping from side to side amongst the farmers you may have set up. Having said that, this would certainly not only be reductive, yet outright wrong to secure this sort of furniture to simply this sort of use. . If you live in merely one room or even on a really small residential or commercial property, you, also, can easily possess a flowerpot landscape filled in spring with pansies as well as primroses, in summer season with petunias or even reds, and also in autumn with chrysanthemums. Whether you select home furniture helped make off logs as well as twigs, standard wood heirlooms, farm type design, an old western theme or even only a cozy cabin type with a contemporary side, there are numerous styles that will complement a log home inner parts. There are some things that you might have to stay out on your veranda: your cleaning line, your bike and so on On balconies, protect grains and also various other plants coming from wind damages through considering their pots down and also connecting all of them securely. After that the offer from within railing is there for the folks like you, if you are additional conscious about the technology appearance of your house. With help from the porch personal privacy screens, your mind will definitely put at simplicity recognizing that you are secure coming from any kind of unwanted curious eyes of your settings. Through the patio privacy monitors, you do not need to shut your patio door. Even more ideas for container horticulture are actually to keep duplicating a plant arranging or even vegetation throughout your veranda place and usage multicolored blossoms for accents simply. This indicates that this is practically difficult to develop plants beyond an elevation of 2-2.5 gauges, (6-8 feet) given that taller vegetations, call for a further container to prevent them tipping in the wind. When you place a little bit from imagination as well as initiative in to this, all are conveniently achieved tips. Let's handle the Action Guy idea given that this is actually the instance I are going to be illustrating with images. The step barrier off a 16th century Italian rental property or even the porch railing off 1800s Buenos Aires can incorporate an intensity from quality to your total illustrative. Take into consideration what does it cost? storing space you eat your patio household furniture as well as whether there is actually the alternative to have it apart for additional condensed storage space. Offer plants sidewards with the experiencing, landscapes the origin ball on top of the soil. These are merely a handful of tips of just what metal falsehood professionals can possibly do for your yard as well as garden. Metal wires are actually typically not considered as ornate as various other components are actually practical to support climbing up vegetations. Even usually tending a really small plot supports your heart, our experts are actually a caring types and also lifting vegetations fulfills that impulse most of us have. Bamboo vegetations endure conveniently from an absence from water, specifically if they get on a subjected and also windy terrace. You can easily stain or even paint it for a dramatic result if your veranda occurs to be cement. If the balcony is encountering the kind of sawtooth-shaped building, it has to be actually fixed with the convex looking glass. This is actually a category that features such outside aspects as a yard arc, a functioned iron arbor, an outdoor gazebo as well as a functioned iron lattice. Professionals likewise highly recommend given that through this your tiny plants are much better secured against invaders as well as insects (like your up-to-no-good kitty for instance). Relying how you use your patio there are actually a lot of concepts on the market to improve the appeal from that. As an example, if the balcony is actually just also small for engaging, after that you can still dress this up through placing big porcelain or stone ceramic tiles on the deck from your balcony. Essentially it depends on your particular circumstances: the building you remain in, the floor you perform, the dimension from your porch etc You could develop tomatoes in pots if don't have the space for a conventional tomato yard. In temperatures that are actually cold, relocate your container garden inside your home or line containers along with building contractors froth as well as set your vegetations in all of them. You can easily produce an excellent looking railing for your deck without excessive trouble in all and also that will certainly appear attractive. The demand for a patio personal privacy screens is actually entirely essential if you possess two-story residence and you have a porch adjacent your expert's bed room. So this was on the evening of 4 August 1914 when, having actually convened an exclusive authorities to proclaim battle on Germany, George V was actually shouted onto the balcony three opportunities through a crowd who preferred their self-governed to signal his authorization of the upcoming disagreement. Patio is an essential part of your property and possibly is the only area to rest and delight in the clean air, if you are actually staying in a condo. In addition, to pick your containers you are actually going to have to have a basic idea of exactly what sort of vegetations and also blooms that you are actually heading to be using. If you have any questions pertaining to where and the best ways to make use of yellow pages advert j r hartley (Recommended Internet site), you could call us at our site. If you are living in a place where climate is actually unstable, you could possibly utilize fabricated vegetations like turfs, small plants and baby plants that can be used as ornamental screen to act as your artificial bush screens. Contact a solution in your region as well as find just what various other outdoor decorative ideas they can easily use. To more improve the balcony you could leave out a handful of floor tiles as well as load the voids along with some funky sleek stones or perhaps some beefy bark nuggets. More than that, fabricated bush privacy screens advertise a life-like ambiance from native environment. For gardening on balconies that are long or slender, use shrubs, various elevation plants as well as vegetations in the end and also edges, to include enthusiasm as well as fill out the difficult collections. As an aiding palm, we have actually addressed a couple of commonly asked questions concerning the method of acquiring preparing permission for a terrace. Ground directly from the garden could not be utilized since it will definitely notdrain fast good enough, causing inadequate sky for the origins, and also that draws awayfrom the edges of the pot when completely dry. If the box backyard is to lean on a terrace or various other solid area, elevate them on cleats or established on bricks or sections from wood therefore drainage holes won't end up being clogged.