#now that i think about it the prompt 'country' for day 2 might have fit slightly better lmfaooo

[theresattrpgforthat]

Any solo-player/journal games that are a bit more lighthearted, preferably with a focus on character building?

Theme: Light-Hearted, Character-Focused Solo Games.

Hello friend! I have some games here that skew more towards the Light-Hearted end of the scale, while others skew more towards Character Building. I hope one of them fits right in the niche you are looking for!

Souvenirs, by Rémi Töötätä.

You are going on a week-long vacation. You are determined to enjoy every visit you go on and come back home with souvenirs from each day, including one for your friend who is taking care of your pet while you’re away.

During the game, you will keep a journal of the places you’re going to and the souvenirs you’re getting. Draw cards each day of your vacation and use prompts to imagine the places you visit, the items you get as souvenirs and the memories they represent.Make yourself a nice cup of tea, write the diary of your character each day, maybe draw a map of the region and pictures of the items you imagine, or play entirely in your head; and most of all, have a lovely time!

This looks like a very lighthearted game, and the souvenirs you collect as you play seem like excellent tools to convey personal memories. This game is meant to happen over the course of a week, so every morning you can sit down and journal about where your character would visit, and what would catch their eye. As you do so, you’ll also want to think about who you’re buying for, and what kind of connection you have to them. At the end of the game, you’ll have a lovely web of relationships, as well as a little story to take back to your NPC friends.

Hygge Holiday, by Figgins.

Hygge Holiday is a solo journaling RPG set in a cozy small village in a Nordic country.

You’ve travelled home for an extended winter holiday, with lots of vacation time.  Winter is a time to slow down and focus on simple pleasures and good company. Luckily, the Nordic countries offer free health care and university education, on top of many weeks of paid holiday per year, and generous unemployment benefits--meaning less worry, stress and uncertainty, and more time for enjoying the simple pleasures in life. How will you spend your time, and with whom? 

This game probably feels more fitting for the cold weather days, but it certainly looks like a great cozy game none the less. You earn paper snowflakes that reflect your experiences and you will also journal about these memories, which might fit the character-building kind of theme you are looking for!

Etude of the Evening, by Takuma Okada.

Etude of the Evening is a tabletop roleplaying game about recovering lost objects from your brilliant past. It is a hack of Songs for the Dusk by Kavita Poduri and Quinn Vega combined with You Will Destroy Something Beautiful by Samantha Day. Uses a six-sided die, for 1 to 3 players. 1-2 hours.

Overall, I think the tone for this game can vary, but it certainly hits the spot of focusing on your character. You’ll answer questions about who you are at the beginning of the game, and navigate a strange landscape. If you want to focus on a light-hearted tone, then you’ll just want to take descriptive choices that focus on beauty rather than decay.

The Land Beyond, by Cezar Capacle.

You are a raccoon. You lived your whole life on an island but now you have a hot air balloon.

You want to be free and reach The Land Beyond.

The Land Beyond is a solo RPG about letting go and going beyond what you think you could. You travel through wondrous lands living fantastic adventures along the way. 

During your journey, you will have the opportunity to reflect upon the burdens you carry with you and, luckily, let go of them so you can travel even further.

This is a journeying game that looks like it’s probably a little less light-hearted than you’re looking for, but really focuses on character reflection. I like the oracles for events in this book, and the idea of tracking the gas in your balloon in order to see how far you can go. I’m keeping this recommendation in because even if it requires a lot of serious character reflection, at the end of the day, you’re still a raccoon in a hot air balloon - and that just feels whimsical to me.

Creation Myths, by gothHoblin.

Creation Myths is a solo journeying game based on the hero's journey/monomyth narrative template. 

It is designed to help you dive deeper into character creation through the development of a backstory adventure via dice and prompts, and to provide you with new things to think about. It can also work as a way to redevelop existing characters and generate fresh ideas. With multiple modes of play available, all you need is a set of dice and somewhere to write. Let your imagination do the rest!

This is another case of your mileage may vary when it comes to tone, because you’ll be the source of ideas for coming up with a character backstory. This is meant to be pretty genre-agnostic, so you might want to pull from other games or pieces of media to decide what kind of character you want to write backstory for. It’s solely focused on character development, but again, whether or not it’s lighthearted is probably up to you.

Incarnation, by breathing stories.

At some mundane moment, something shifted in you. The number of ‘coincidences’ became too large to be without meaning. The deja vu became impossible to ignore. It hit you, not like a sack of bricks, but like a shawl landing firmly on your shoulders.

This is not your first life. You have lived many others, and now they start trickling in…

In Incarnation, you create a character who has just become aware that the life they are leading is not their first life. Using a tarot deck you will create the story of this character and their past lives, uncovering secrets pleasant and otherwise.

With all that this character has been through, the weight of all they hold, who are they really?

This game has the potential to shift in tone, but since it’s played using a tarot deck, I feel like much of the genre and details will depend on the player’s interpretation. It’s deeply tied to character building, as the game revolves around discovering your character’s past lives. If Anamnesis sounds up your alley, then this game might tick a lot of the same boxes, as it’s built on the same set of rules.

Fox Curio’s Floating Bookshop, by lostwaysclub.

Welcome to the River; a flowing path born at the mountain’s feet. In her high narrows, barely two boats fit lengthwise; a furious pounding of water. From these rocky ravines, she threads her way through the land, until she reaches the Great Sea. Quiet and slow-moving in these lowlands, she provides homes for those who live upon her waters and food for those who live beside her.

Your days are filled with customers, leaks and the irritating nook beetles that bury into the pages of your books. Make friends with regular customers to the bookshop, experience the River as she moves through the different seasons, visit and explore various towns, go fishing in the River's rich waters. Throughout the year, the seasons change and holidays give the chance for you to join in celebrations and festivities with the animalfolk. 

This game is at the top of the list when looking at tone; it’s absolutely lighthearted, but I’m not sure how much it focuses on character building. Most of the focus will be on your customers, but I think as you journal, you have the potential to learn more about your character through the kinds of books they sell and how they deal with customers. Overall the tone of this world is so beautiful and peaceful, it’s on my own list of games I’d love to play.

Games I've Recommended in the Past

Void 1680 AM, by Bannerless Games.

Anamnesis, by Sam Leigh.

Wanderhome, by Jay Dragon.

[ink-flavored]

❤️️ ❤️️ ❤️️ ❤️️ ❤️️ 👀👀👀

ooOOooo five hearts, i guess i'll ramble about 5 different WIPs!!

❤️️ part 1: Pride & Justice

I've been stewing Lust's backstory in my mind for a while, I want to make it a character intro at some point. Same thing with Honesty, but I'm having a harder time with Lust's because like... I want to make sure it's a well-rounded character so I don't trip into all the various pitfalls having an antagonist who represents the concept of lust brings. It's abusive and shitty, but I want it to be clear that it's choosing to be this way—and it was also taught to be this shitty through circumstance and its own trauma, just like how Pride was. I also think doing a full backstory will help me write it better, I'll know what I'm doing with it's character better than I currently do. I've also decided we're going to meet Chris (from the book club) before Lust, so my first it/its character isn't the evil one.

❤️️ part 2: Tales from Athendrolyn

November is coming up, so I'm VERY excited to do my little Anthology Blast plan!!! I've been especially excited to write the little gargoyle adoption prompt—I haven't had the idea as long as some of the other prompts, but ever since I came up with it, I've been obsessed. I know I want to have multiple volumes of my anthologies so I can just keep coming up with prompts forever, and I may end up bringing this gargoyle-carving character back at some point. I love her.

❤️️ part 3: Athendrolyn After Dark

One of the prompts (not one of the ones I'll write in November, but still) is about a FWB pair that take love potions to Enhance their sex life, and I've been thinking about the culture surrounding love potions in this world now. For the prompt itself, I'm treating it like an intox kink, almost? It's like having sex while you're high, but the "high" is "immediately falling in love with whoever you're looking at." So would these things be legal? Do you have to make them yourself, is the recipe underground? Is it like.. a drug that in smaller doses is used for a genuine medical purpose, but when you take a lot of it you get stoned like this? So many questions brought up by this one prompt that I won't even be able to fit into the short story itself, but now I Have to think about it.

❤️️ part 4: Unnamed Dream WIP

I've known for a while now that I want Asim to have regular correspondence with Mira while he's in the city, because I don't want to give him a sister and immediately write her out for the rest of the book, yknow? He talks about how his research is going, she talks about how she's adjusting to being the Speaker for their village. He might send money back... if he's getting paid at all? Still unclear about what's going on with that. Probably getting a research stipend or something.

I just like when there are siblings!!! With a good relationship! I think it's weird when people are like "all siblings fight and hate each other" because... I've always had a great relationship with my sibling? So I want to write more siblings that reflect my experience

❤️️ part 5: New Poetry Collection?

I know that isn't a techincally WIP but you can't stop me

I was thinking the other day about how many poetry collections are about how beautiful nature is, the natural world, how many poets are from rural backgrounds, and how many of them returned to the country from the city which is when they wrote their most critically acclaimed works etc. but like.... I love living in the city.

I lived in the suburbs most of my life, and now that I live in Chicago I can say with 100% certainty this is my preferred biome (I do wish it was warmer year-round but other than that). I love the city, I think it's just as beautiful and worthy of poetry as nature and rural areas. I dunno, I've been tossing around the idea of a poetry collection just based on how much I love the city. I think it would be neat

[send me a ❤️️ and let me ramble]

[nozomuaoyama]

I don't think I know much about your OCs (yet) but I would LOVE That's Not Normal with whoever of them you see fit!!

Not me doing this so late it ends up a Femslash February prompt...

Day 2, please be gentle.

Caitlyn liked Amy, as weird as the other girl was. She'd just appeared near their school one day, with no ID or records, as far as anyone could find. 

"Amy?"

"I don't understand. Why wouldn't you leave?"

Caitlyn doesn't question her, just nods for Amy to go on.

"I mean, I have given you nothing. I came from nowhere. All I do is follow you around. And you want me around."

Amy Chan, she'd given her last name as, and that was way too generic for Caitlyn to find anything about with her Google skills. It's not like she's a professional detective, anyway, so she supposes it doesn't really matter.

"I'm used to you." It's the first thing that comes to mind. "I like you, and I want to keep the things I like. Is it that hard?"

Caitlyn supposed that the only way it could actually be a problem was if Amy had been a criminal or something, but as far as she knew, everything about Amy was very tidy and put together. It was a little scary.

Amy fidgets with a lock of her hair. "...that's new."

She'd asked several times about names Caitlyn had never heard of and could barely find information about, other than several of them having disappeared months ago in foreign countries. They're desperate, and maybe they're the only desperate thing about Amy. But right now, Caitlyn's pretty sure she needs someone else.

"Yeah, well." Caitlyn doesn't smile. She doesn't really do that. She just looks at Amy with her half-bitten lip and nods. "You're new."

---

Amy is very quick to learn math, even if she might have started at division. She gets stuck on trigonometry, though, and Caitlyn really, really can't help her.

"Just look it up on YouTube. Especially this kind of problem."

For an irritating moment, Caitlyn thinks she's offended Amy, that the other girl will come running out of her house and never come back. It's not like there's any better place. The foster home is bad enough.

"What's YouTube?" Amy cocks her head to the side slightly, and the loose strands of hair from her pigtails fall over her shoulders.

"...you're weird. You don't know what that is, but you know everything about anime?"

"I don't know anything! I've never actually seen any! I-It's just that—" Amy lets out a little gasp. "Don't get mad!"

"I'm not mad." Caitlyn's tone is still even, like it usually is. She's not sure she knows how to be otherwise.

"It's really hard to tell!" Amy's hands are on her face, and she spreads her fingers just a little.

"It's just what, anyway?"

"I...knew someone who was really into it. He'd talk about it all the time..." She sighs. "That's why. I don't know anything about it. I've never seen an episode of anything."

"YouTube's a video sharing site. I'll show you."

"Sight? As in…" Amy gestures to her eyes.

"No, site. Website. Why are you so clueless?" Caitlyn runs her fingers through her hair. It's weird, seeing someone like this.

Amy isn't normal. She isn't okay. That's all she knows. But she can do better.

"It doesn't matter. I can learn. Please, be gentle whatever–"

"I don't hate you. I never will." She gives something of a nod. "Just stick around. I want you to."

---

They're in P.E. Amy hasn't known the time-tested "walk just enough for the mean girls not to take note of you" strategy, which Caitlyn thinks is probably to be expected. Most new kids don't know, either.

She hasn't stopped, either. She's outlasted pretty much the whole class at this point. Including the jocks. Her pace is even, and although her face is red she's still going, going, going, like she'll die if she stops.

"Chan!" the teacher barks. "Quit it!"

Amy skids to a stop in front of the mats, then rams her head into one.

Somehow, this doesn't make her any worse at the rest of the class. She's not good. She needs all the tiny rules of basketball explained to her. Travelling. Three-pointers. Free throws. But she can manage. As well as Amy ever manages, anyway.

Caitlyn is glad it's their last class of the day. She doesn't have to bother with showers.

"Amy?"

"Yes?"

"Don't shower. The water here is terrible."

Amy takes a look at the shower cubicles, then gives a confused nod. "…looks…never mind."

"Anyway, they'll probably call you gay for it."

"Gay?" Amy frowns. "Why would liking girls be bad? Unless you're r—need to control the bloodline, anyway."

"No, it's just…lots of reasons. They're bad ones. Just don't."

"So…it's okay to like girls?"

"It's very okay."

"Good." Amy shoves her towel and soap into her backpack. It somehow still doesn't look full. "I'm going back to the house. Um…can I see you tomorrow?"

"Where are you from?" Caitlyn asks. It doesn't follow. But she has to know.

"I live across town. You can't get me back."

"That's not—I know I've asked you and you've never answered, but you can't just do these things!" She's breathing hard. She's screaming. She's doing anything and everything. There's no one else here. "Just tell me."

"It doesn't matter. It's not like you can do anything about it."

"We can go back—"

"No, you can't. Just quit it." For once, Amy is mad.

It's a strange feeling, seeing her mad. Caitlyn wants to tear her hair out and scream and do a million things at once. But all she does is know.

"Someone hurt you, right?"

"Yes, but...you can't do anything to them. I can promise you. No one in this world can." Amy's words are careful, and maybe if Caitlyn paid a little more attention she'd know exactly just what she was talking about. But the details don't matter. What matters is…

"I can do something to you." She holds out her hand, and Amy takes it.

[sneakydraws]

@dennorweek day 4: royalty

let's not kid ourselves this is a very tedious connection but i took it as an excuse to word dump a bit about the kind of dynamic i sometimes like to imagine with historical canonverse dennor. poorly backed up musings under the cut

based on like .05 seconds of research i did at some point i got the impression that historically, even when they formed a united country, d.enmark had more power over n.orway (or at the very least, more power than n.orway) than vice versa, and it got me thinking about power dynamics. this is just my own headcanon but i could see it like... nor knows full well that their relationship is unequal and den could at any point mistreat him with little repercussion but at the same time nor knows he never would. cocky and arrogant and power hungry though he may be, the affection or even love den has for nor is genuine and he would never think of treating nor with anything less than full respect. then again, a situation where one person has considerable power over the other is no foundation for a fully comfortable and normally functional relationship, and their weird romance has that undercurrent of instability built in. although i think for countries this kind of messed up relationship is kind of the norm since at any given time there's usually some kind of power imbalance going on, not to mention inherently clashing political interests... anyway, dubiously historically accurate musings aside, i couldn't resist putting them in vaguely viking era clothes even though the situation i was going for could be slightly more believably connected to their 16th century union ahahaaaa

[brainlessrot]

Here you go @patterned-flannel !!! again, thank you so much for the request <3

| Part 1, Ace, Deuce, Jack |

| Part 2, Epel, Sebek, Ruggie | <

i got distracted while writting and ended up making epel and sebek’s different from the given prompt, sorry!

First years + Ruggie - They accidentally make you cry - part 2

Epel;;

You had asked Epel for help, since you had been allowed to go to a thrift store nearby, the headmage being “generous” enough to give you some pocket money, enough to buy a couple of clothes so you’d be more comfortable and a little bigger closet, having only some lost clothes that did not fit you that well and the old hand-me-down uniform you used.

So, knowing that Epel had gone under really… extensive fashion lessons from Vil, you trusted that he would help you choose something that would fit and look nice on you. But you were so wrong, so, so wrong.

Your first error was even thinking of him to help you, he absolutely hated going shopping, but he couldn’t reject your invitation knowing your situation, so he acted like a big boy and accepted, but you could see his mood sour the more you spent inside the store, and it made your interactions with each other much more awkward. And your second mistake was thinking that Vil’s hard classes would work, sure, Epel might fake his way around, but when you were the only one around that knew who he was, he let loose, acting much more rude and letting his country accent slip, not caring about, however, the things Vil had successfully drilled into his brain did not disappear, instead, they went from Vil’s harsh words through Epel’s brain translator, making the usually strict words turn into emotional damage.

“Ye really like that shirt…? ‘Kay, but ye better not come cryin’ to me if ya get thrown into yer rash by accident, ‘tis looks like absolute horse shit.” You hadn’t even shown him the piece of cloth you were looking at, and he was already crushing your style choices.

“Uggh, ye better not be lookin’ at those tremendously horrible pants right there, do ye want to look like a roach? ‘Cause you’d be doin’ it great with those.”

“Mmmh, ‘m not even gonna say nothin’ ‘bout that jacket, but you’d be better off settin’ it on fire to warm yer hands in the winter, ‘tis only works as fuel, and only if yer really desperate.”

“Oi, get yer grubby hands off them shoes, they look like-“ You had enough, even if he was annoyed because he did not want to come— even after he agreed— he should be at least emotionally mature to know that what he was doing was horrible. But who’re you kidding, you study at NRC, who has that much emotional maturity?

You left the shoes on the rack with enough strength to make it shake, the sound of the vibrations not too loud— but enough to make him shut his trap.

You only side eyed him, your gaze being enough to make the strongest magician of the world shit their pants, and who wouldn't? The prefect's wrath was terrifying to anyone who knew who you were.

The rest of the day went in silence, Epel following you like a lost puppy, hiding his tail between his legs. It left him to his own mind, repeating his own words as if it was a broken record, the more he thought about it, the more he felt like an asshole, and he wasn’t that far off.

You ended up grabbing what you liked, not even sparing a glance back at Epel, checking out the few items you bought on the way out, he pulled at the sleeve of your uniform, now too flustered at his own wrongdoings, a full 180º from his actions beforehand.

“Prefect, just wanna say, ‘m… ‘m very sorry.” He twiddled with the hem of his own sleeve between his fingers, looking down at your feet. “I was acting like a dipshit, I did not want to make yer day awful, Granny would be very disappointed in me, and ‘m too. I’m sorry I made ye mad.” You stared at him for a while before agreeing with him, he had acted like a dick, and you had gotten really mad. However, you felt that he was truly apologizing and felt bad at how he acted, so you accepted his apologies— but you told him that he was on thin ice, and the only way that he would be safe would be that the next time his family sent some apples, he’d give you some. To which he agreed, promising you that you would not find a less than perfect apple from the ones he’d give you.

Sebek;;

Oh, the mighty (half) fae Sebek, who had decided to make your day worthy of living by giving you the honor of his presence. Which would be appreciated if he wasn’t such an annoying ass.

He had seen you studying outside, completely alone, and decided that you, even if a mere human, deserved some of his help. And don’t get me wrong, he could be a good hand, after all, he studied hard and it showed in his grades. But the problem was that, first of all; he doesn’t shut up, ever, the second thing is; everything that comes out of his mouth has something to do with Malleus or how great the Thorn Valley is, and last, but not least; his volume is too loud. You could ignore him if his voice wasn’t quite as strong and potent, but alas, that is just wishful thinking. His loud demeanor couldn’t be ignored, the sound finding its way in your bones, inside your skull, vibrating through your brain. But it did not enter from one ear and leave from the other, oh no, that was impossible. And thanks to this, you were now even more stressed than before, great!

“HUMAN, you have done that equation completely wrong, from start to finish! But oh, what can you expect from a mere human?! After all, they are all low in comparison to Sir Malleus! Did you know that he is a legend in the Thorn Valley because, when he was only a couple of dozen of moons old he managed to defeat on of the top wisest sages-“ Every word that he mustered felt like a rock, falling onto your brain, making its own indent, and every hole it made, every time his words squashed your brain, you were closer and closer to losing it. “HUMAN ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME?! Surely you must know about this story, right?! …You… You don’t? How can you lack the most basic of the basic knowledge from the Valley?! UGH! I can’t be even surprised, you are a lowly human after all.” That’s it, the last rock that managed to tilt the scales off, your brain going into overdrive. You closed the book you were currently using with enough force to create a pretty loud sound, making Sebek flinch and look at you with confusion.

Before he could even muster another “HUMAN” from his lips, you threw the book at him, as he was sitting in front of you, rather close because of the tiny table, you managed to hit him square in the chest.

“HUH?! WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING HUMA-“ You shushed him with an accusatory finger, you got off on him, telling him that if all he was going to do was to be an annoying and racist brat he could go fuck off and follow Malleus around like the mutt he is. Your furious stare, looking directly at him, mixed with the way your voice was dripping with venom, left him without words, something that didn’t happen everyday.

You got up from your seat, grabbed your bag and walked around the table to grab the precious book you had thrown, you could sulk about possibly damaging it later. You started to walk off without telling him another fuck you in a hushed tone.

You ignored the heavy footsteps that followed you. The way you could physically feel the way he was brooding, right behind you. You didn’t want to talk to him any longer, or tears of frustration would fall from your eyes soon.

But after some minutes of following around and muttering something under his breath, just as you reached Ramshackle dorm, he spoke up.

“Huma- Prefect,” He stood stiffly at the end of the stairs that led to the main door of the dorm, arms perfectly straight and parallel to his torso, a forced position, perhaps out of nervousness or just familiarity. “I am extremely sorry.” He bent forward, almost forming a 90º degree angle, his hair fell forward, his gelled back hair sticking out as if they were glued together, how much did he apply every day? “I have wondered about my actions, and I have come to the conclusion that I was not acting in an adequate way towards you, so I offer you my sincerest apologies.” Even his apology felt as stiff and forced as his stance, perhaps he meant what he said, but his words were not… well, his.

You asked him that if he wanted to be applauded, and he only looked at you in confusion, shouldn’t you have accepted his apologies? He had done it exactly as shown in books, why wasn’t it working? You told him that even if he apologized, he still was an annoying cunt, and that you were not happy with him. That made a grimace appear on his face, had he been that bad? Yes, yes he had.

“I… I accept your words of rejection, however,” You rolled your eyes, this was making your head hurt. “I still stay by the fact that I did not intend to berate you willingly, Prefect, after all… you once called me a… friend, and I wish to remain in that position if you’d let me.” You sighed, that felt better, even if it was not enough for what he had pulled beforehand. You told him to shut up and get inside, as payment, he was going to help you with your studies, and ONLY with studies, you did not want to hear a single word that did not have nothing to do with the books.

Ruggie;;

You looked at the sad remains of money you had left after buying Grim food, you had put a limit of money you’d use for each day, since your funds were running low, and single handedly Grim’s tuna took a huge chunk of it. With the little madol you had, you could only afford a sandwich from the cafeteria, one of those that were more bread than anything, but at least you wouldn’t have to go the rest of the day without any food in your stomach, which was better than nothing, but still quite depressing.

You stood in the queue for a while, waiting as other students brought the sad cafeteria food the ghost prepared, it was not their fault, they were wonderful cooks, and managed to make the best of the things the headmage gave them as supplies, which was very little, so you respected the hard work they put into feeding the bunch of messy teens at NRC.

When your turn came, your stomach was already growling, furious that you hadn’t put anything on it until now. You bought your little sandwich and left to one of the tables, Ace and Deuce had taken Grim away, since you did not want to make the little guy see you eating that sandwich, since he would probably feel guilty, even if the start of your relationship had been rocky, the little monster had gotten quite attached to you.

You sat at the uncomfortable bench, looking at the food in your hands, you were hungry, but even then, the sandwich looked quite unappetising in your eyes.

“Shie-hehehe,” You recognized that laugh almost immediately, but who wouldn’t? Everytime you heard his laugh you got flashbacks from the incidents that surrounded Savanaclaw a while ago. “What do we have here? Why are you so alone, Prefect?” You deflected the question with another one, asking him if he was here to buy Leona anything, since he usually didn’t buy food from the cafeteria. “You’re quite bright, yes, I have his wallet right here.” He played with the wallet in his hand by throwing it in the air and catching it with ease. “But what do you have there?” He ogled the sandwich in your hands as if it was the best of the best, made by the most popular chef that ever existed, when in reality it was two slices of bread with two pieces of lettuce, and some strange matter inside. “What do you think… shouldn’t you share?”

You didn’t even notice your hands extending forwards, presenting the sandwich to Ruggie as if it was an expensive present, you tried to resist his magic, but it was too strong, and you couldn’t get out of his control. He snatched it out of your hands, taking a huge bite out of it. You stared in disbelief for a couple of seconds, your soul crushing. You had used every madol you had left for the day for that miserable sandwich, and now you stared at Ruggie, happily munching away at your conquest.

Warm tears started to drip down your face, leaving a shiny trail behind, you weren’t being overdramatic, as some would say, your body demanded food, and you could not listen to it, since it had been stolen.

Ruggie stopped biting the bread the moment he heard you sob, eyes wide and ears pulled back in worry. What happened? Why were you crying? He tried to ask you, but you hid your face in your arms, laying on top of the ugly cafeteria table. He shook your arm, the half eaten sandwich forgotten in his other hand.

“Prefect?! Are you okay? What happened?!” When your breath calmed enough to allow you to speak, your voice was quiet, breaking from the tears still spilling from your eyes, you told him that that sandwich was your food, the only food you could afford for today, since you had used every other madol to feed Grim. He felt his soul crush, you reminded him of what would happen daily back in his hometown, and he felt horrible for being the reason you were hungry and sad,

“Okay, hey, look at me,” You sniffed, wiping your eyes so you could see him properly, without the blurriness the tears added. “I’ll fix this, I'm very sorry for what I just did.” He put an arm around your shoulders, rubbing circles with his thumb on your shoulder, his soft voice as he tried to console you. “If I had known I wouldn’t have stolen it, but I’ll make it better, okay?” He quietly chuckled, turning your head to look at him. “I have an idea, but please calm down before we do it, yeah?”

You nodded, and after your breathing evened out, he walked with you, interlocked elbows, towards the register.

“Here, choose whatever you want, I’ll pay,” He winked, playing with Leona’s wallet. “Leona’s treat.”

[cable-knit-sweater]

I had no plans, no plans at all, to write something for @steverogersweek day 2. I thought I would come up with something else. But I looked at the prompts again and Steve + clothes… I just couldn’t help myself. I’ve had a bunch of thoughts about this before, (here and here for example) and I probably will again. Sooo here it is. A timeline, of sorts.

5+1: 5 times Steve wore a suit/uniform, and one time…

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

Word count: 1.3k

Notes: for @steverogersweek, day 2, Prompt: Clothes

Read on Ao3 or below:

1. Brooklyn, 1936

“Stevie, almost ready to go?”, Bucky’s voice sounds through the bedroom door, and Steve can tell he’s trying to not put too much pressure on him, is careful to keep his voice soft, just checking in rather than trying to rush him. He responds with a frustrated grunt. Steve continues to pull on the hem of his heavily starched collared shirt, but there’s nothing at this point that will get the creases out. Can’t even get this right, he thinks, but there’s not much to be done about it now. He takes one last look in the mirror, combing his bangs away from his face with his fingers. It’s a decent enough suit. The best they could get, at least. It cost them a fortune and still, it’s not good enough, not what his ma deserves. But there’s no way they could’ve afforded something better - he’ll be struggling to afford anything more than the bare minimum for a while as is. It almost makes him want to laugh. Because he knows, this he knows for sure. He’s never, ever, putting this suit on again.

2. Brooklyn, 1943

When Senator Brandt told him there was still a way to serve his country, this was not what he had imagined. At all. But he’ll do what’s necessary, if there’s a chance he can do anything that counts for something. The suit though…the suit is a problem. Obviously it’s a little ridiculous, in an over the top, patriotic way. That’s not it, necessarily. It’s that no one told him. He guesses there was no one to tell him, Erskine probably having been the only one that would have known or could have guessed. Could have guessed that all his sense are dialed up to 11 now, that any fabric on his skin feels like so much more, for good or for bad. The cowl, the gloves, the really tight bodysuit, they’re all made of pretty durable fabrics. But on his skin, to his senses? It might as well have been made out of sandpaper. It’s hard to put those feelings aside, feelings of fabric scraping over his skin, the discomfort bordering on pain. But he’ll have to. He signed up for this, and if Steve is anything, anything at all, he’s not a quitter.

3. London, 1943

When he’s laying down in bed that night, he knows he talked with the Howlies, knows he talked to Peggy. About something or other. But the only thing, the only thought running through his mind… the only thing in his head, keeping him up, is that one question Bucky asked him. “But you’re keeping the outfit right?”, he’d asked, a grin on his face. He’s known Bucky for so long. Thinks he can read any expression, understand every tone of voice, just instinctively know what Bucky is getting at. But this time? This time he’s thrown for a loop. What did he mean? Was it meant as a joke? Which would be fair, given the tight fit and the whole red, white and blue of it. And those god damn boots. Or did he mean something more by it? Did he maybe even like the outfit? Or rather… Steve in the outfit? He stares up at the ceiling for hours, trying to figure it out. He knows what he wants the answer to that question to be. He’s just not sure that he could ever be that lucky. He never really is.

4. Washington DC, 2014

He know the words that just left his mouth sound a little… he doesn’t actually know what it sounded like to Sam. “If you’re gonna fight a war, you got to wear a uniform” . He thinks, he hopes, that Sam thought he was talking about the symbol of it. That the Captain America suit, being recognizable as a symbol for honor and good , used to inspire people to fight in the past, could maybe be used to inspire some people within Shield to take their side, give them the extra push. Don’t get him wrong, he hopes it does. That’s not why he’s wearing it though. But he doesn’t think he can tell Sam about his, frankly, desperate move to wear something Bucky might recognize. He’ll do almost anything necessary to stop project Insight from fulfilling its goals. But he can’t… he can’t hurt Bucky. It’s a last-ditch effort, maybe a hopeless idea. But if there’s a chance, even the smallest chance, that seeing something so familiar to him triggers anything? Steve will take it. He’ll do anything, anything to get him back.

5. Wakanda, 2016

Steve’s a little nervous. He worked on the sketch for his new uniform for hours, thought about it for days. After Siberia and dropping the shield he knew for sure. He’d taken the Avengers patches off the suit already, but after that last confrontation with Tony…it only confirmed what he already knew. He could no longer be that symbol, not in the way people wanted him to, that was demanded of him. He’s seen and experienced too many times what the power of institutions can do, how they’re corrupted every single time. But he’s not going to just sit down and give up the fight. People still need help. And he believes in people, trusts them more than he’s ever believed in any government or institution. That’s what was on his mind when he designed this new suit. The person he trusts most in this world is - and always will be - Bucky. His strength, his kindness, his resilience, the way he can still see good in others even with all he’s been through. He’s always been like that and no one could really take it away. Steve had been looking through old pictures of him and the Howlies with Bucky one day, because Bucky had asked. And Steve had seen those photos, seen Bucky’s uniform back then, how beautiful he’d looked in it and what it had represented to him - Bucky’s strength, Bucky’s trust in him - and he’d just known. Known what he wanted to wear, if he was going to continue the fight. It fits like a glove, the fabric Shuri used feeling like silk on his skin. He breathes in deep before he opens the door to their living room, ready to show Bucky. He hopes he gets it. He knows he will.

+1, Upstate New York, now

He’s pushed against the wall next to the bedroom door of the cottage they’re renting. Hard. For a second he thinks he’s glad Bucky isn’t using his full strength. Yet. Because he’d hate to explain a super-soldier sized dent in the wall. It’s only for a second though, because Bucky is pressing into him, biting his neck and running his tongue over it to sooth the sting. Steve gets with the program quickly enough, reaching out to pull Bucky’s face up, close to his, kissing him with all he’s got. He’s almost desperate for it, but luckily, Bucky is on the same page, returning the kiss just as fiercely, moaning a little when Steve bites his lower lip. “Off. It’s gotta come off”, he demands, growls. Steve is about to try take off his suit jacket, unbutton his shirt, but Bucky doesn’t seem to have that kind of patience. Before Steve can even move, he hears a tearing sound, feels the jacket and shirt being torn right off his body, falling to the ground. They spent a fortune on this suit. And it was perfect. A perfect suit to marry the love of his life in, on a perfect day. But he doesn’t mind so much. Forget suits, forget uniforms. The only important thing he’s ever gonna wear again? The band on his finger, a perfect match to Bucky’s.

[yes-i-am-happyaspie]

Updated AO3 Masterlist  (Irondad)

March 24, 2021

My AO3

****Starker-free Zone- I Do Not Ship It.***

[Updated March 24, 2021]

AO3 Profile Name: happyaspie

Joined on: 2018-10-5  

link to Profile

—❤—

A Parent Apparent

Description: May is injured in a car wreck.  Peter calls Tony for help.  Eventually they all grow into their own little family.  

Tags: Tony Stark Adopts Peter Parker, May Parker and Tony Stark co-parenting Peter Parker, Angst, Fluff, Humor and Feels.

Warnings: None   Rated: Teen  Status: Complete  [140+ Chapters]

Link to Fiction

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What Was Missing Was You

Description: Post-Endgame (fix-it), Peter finds out that Tony has a tattoo and that discovery leads to a heartfelt conversation

Warnings: None Rated: G

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Distracted by a Dime

Description: Homeless Peter Parker ends up under the care of husbands, Tony Stark and Steve Rogers

Warnings: None Rated: Teen

Link to Fiction

———-

Entangled [co-written with Moonchild2593]

Description: Tony calls Spider-man in for an assist during an alien attack and almost instantly regrets it when, together, they are hit with an orb of unearthly magic that forces them to see into each other’s past through shared memories. Both the good and the bad. This leads to a lot of unexpected feelings, a few revelations and a long conversation about whether or not things between them will ever be the same again.

Tags: Fluff and Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Stephen Strange is Helping, Emotional Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: None   Rated: Teen  Status: Complete

Link to Fiction

_______

—|:|–SERIES–|:|—

Tony Stark is a Good Mentor Series

Description: A collection of stories highlighting Tony Stark and Peter Parker’s close relationship as Mentor/Mentee, some (who and I kidding…most) of them delving into father-figure territory.

Genres: A combination of fluff, humor, hurt/comfort, sickfics & injury  [Always read the tags]

Warnings: None   Rated: G     Status: Ongoing

Link To Series

———-

Beautiful Boy (Darling Pete) Series

Description:  Tony learns about a young Peter by chance and for some unknown reason he ends up taking a liking to him and becoming friends with his guardians, May and Ben Parker. Eventually, he is tasked with caring for nearly-eight-year-old Peter for a week but when the situation becomes tragically permanent, Tony has to pull himself together to be the man his friends saw in him rather than the man he sees in himself.

Genres: Angst, Fluff, hurt/comfort, sickfic

Warnings: None    Rated: Teen    Status: Ongoing

Link To Series

———-

Tumblr Mini Fics

Description: A collection of short Irondad one-shots (all 1000 words or less) written based off of prompts sent to me on tumblr

Genres: Varies heavily by fic

Warnings: Varies by fic [Most have ‘No Warning]

Rated: Varies by fic. [General Audience-Teen]  Status: Ongoing

[Link To Series]

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Spider-man Stories Not Other Wise Specified Series

Description:  A collection of MCU based fan-fictions that don’t fit into any of the other series.  [Always read the tags]

Genres: Varies heavily by fic

Warnings: Varies by fic [Most have ‘No Warning]

Rated: Varies by fic. [General Audience-Teen]  Status: Ongoing

Link to Series

———-

Peter Parker Omo Files

Description: Unrelated, *Non-sexual* omorashi fan-fictions. This means that these fan-fictions involve pee in one aspect or another including wetting, bed-wetting and desperation.

**Omocute**||**Not Meant To Be Read As St*rker**||**Not Age-play or regression**

Genres: Omorashi, Platonic relationships, hurt/comfort, fluff

Warnings: None   Rated: Teen   Status: Ongoing

Link to Series

——– CURRENTLY ON HIATUS——-

Turning of The Tides

Description: Peter is eighteen now and everything around him is changing. He’s graduating and college is right on the horizon. May is starting a new job that will allow her to travel the country and his friends are all heading different directions to go to school. The only constant in his life right now is Tony, who is ready to guide him into adulthood and remind him that independence isn’t the same as trying to do everything on your own.

Genres: Emotional hurt/comfort, Fluff

Warnings: None    Rated: Teen   Status: On Hiatus/To be Continued

Link To Series

_____

Together Into the End [co-written with Pandalove09]

Description: People tended to think that Tony and Pepper Stark lived a perfect life and that with an abundance of money at their fingertips, they were never in want of anything. However, that couldn’t have been further from the truth. They spent years struggling with pain and grief. Though rather than tearing them apart, it brought them closer together and stronger than ever as they fought for what they’d always wanted, a child of their own.

Tags: Peter Parker is Tony Stark's Biological Child, Peter Parker is Pepper Potts Biological Child, Angst With a Happy Ending, Howard Stark Lives, Maria Stark Lives, May Parker is Tony Stark's Sister

Warnings: infertility struggles and child loss by miscarriage.

Rated: Teen   Status: On Hiatus

Link to Fiction

—–Some Fics From the Above  Series’ Listed by Genre——

Sick Fics:

One Long Night- Peter shows up in Tony Lab with a stomach virus he didn’t even know he could catch

Tony Stark is Not Sick Tony is sick and wants to be left alone.  Peter takes care of him anyway.  He returns the favor a few days later when Peter comes down with the same flu.

Peter Parker’s October [Ch. 6] -Peter had a cold.  Tony wraps him in blankets

Maybe it Was the Taco -Peter gets food poisoning while on a trip with Tony.  

Spider Sniffles - May is going out of town and Tony is going to have Peter.  By the end of the fist night, Peter is miserable with a cold.

Appendicitis it Is- Peter is sure that the stomach ache he’s had all day is nothing.  Spoiler alert- it’s not.

Of All Days- Peter calls Tony to pick him up from school because he has a major migraine.  He wasn’t expecting to meet Rhodey in the process.

Stars- Peter is home alone and sick with an earache among other things… he calls Tony when he can’t take it any more.

Fever Terror- Peter goes to bed with a fever and wakes up later burning up.  He’s disoriented and hallucinating causing him to injure Tony as he tries to maneuver him into a cool shower.

Injury:

What I Really Need is You [Chapter 2] Peter gets shot while on Patrol.  Tony patches him up.

Fourth of July- Peter manages to swing right into a drone leaving him with a concussion.  Tony helps to sort him out.  

One Little Slip Up- One clumsy mistake leaves Peter stuck on the floor with a broken leg.  He’s happy to have so many adults in his life to help him out.

Valentines Night Interrupted- Tony’s on a date with Pepper when he gets an alert that Peter’s been stabbed.  

Mistakes- Peter is injured while on a mission.  He tried to tell Tony but the man is just too distracted to hear him out.  That is until he’s crying.

Lame [Injured Tony] - Tony hurts his back int he lamest possible way.

Stay With Me [Injured Tony]- Tony get some major injuries during a botched mission.  Peter isn’t taking it well.  Happy, May and Pepper all try to offer support.

Don’t Freak Out- Peter calls Tony after getting stabbed.  He’s a little loopy by the time the man gets to him.

Emotional Hurt/Comfort:

Save Me From My Dreams- Peter can’t sleep and the lack of rest causes him to break down in front of Tony.

Everybody Has Bad Days- Peter had a bad day.  Tony tries to make it better.

Australia - Peter is tired and anxious and is mind keeps wandering back to a story his uncle used to read to him.  Tony helps him get what he needs to feel more at ease.

Three Seemingly Small Words- After a nightmare, Peter realizes that he needs to tell Tony that he loves him but he scared of how that might affect their relationship.  When he gets the words out, he’s overwhelmed when the sentiment is reciprocated.

Quiet Company- Tony is having a bad day and tries to send Peter home.  Peter Stays and his  quiet presences is eventually more than appreciated.

Breath Kid (You’re Not Alone)- Ned had died and Peter  isn’t coping.  Tony helps him through.

Entangled- alien space tech causes Tony and Peter to share memories this leads to a lot of questions and feelings.

September- Peter had a very bad patrol that leaves him more than a little shaken.  Tony is there to comfort him

What is Real (A Comfortember Fic) -  After being kidnapped, Tony helps Peter recover.  

[iliveiloveiwrite]

freedom, books, flowers, and the moon.

A/N: Here is my entry in @approved-by-dentists ‘s follower celebration! Congrats again on 400, lovely! My prompt was Bookstore AU - so here we go! I’m worried that it doesn't entirely fit the prompt but there is a bookstore! So I'm halfway there! The book I mention is The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern (I always recommend this book - read it, love it) and I had to use Yorkshire because Yorkshire is home to the Brontes and I live in Bronte country so I had to do it. Nevertheless I hope you all enjoy! As always, I love you all!

Summary: “With freedom, books, flowers and the moon, who could not be happy?” - Oscar Wilde.

Pairing: Harry Potter x Fem!Reader

Warnings: mentions of war, mentions of grief, mentions of book hangovers.

Word count: 4.1k

For many, the second wizarding war had been less than a year long. They had experienced less than a year of the insecurity, the anxiety and the dread that goes through everyone’s mind in time of war.

For Harry, the second wizarding war had been a lot longer. He had been battling the Dark Lord mind to mind for years, and after his defeat, he felt exhausted. He was not only drained physically – the final duel taking its toll on him. But he was drained mentally, for all of a sudden, the space in his mind that he had shared with the darkest wizard in a century, was free. Harry could no longer feel his presence within him; the dark part of him that festered like an open wound.

It was a good thing, that he could no longer feel him. Harry knew that. But still, a part of him lingered too long on the idea that this was all a sense of false security. He had been living on the adrenaline of the chase for too long, and now that it was leaving his body, Harry had no clue what he needed to do. What he wanted to do.

He had the option of becoming an auror, and his teachers had supported him with that career choice. But a small part of him wondered whether he would be damaging himself further by throwing himself back into the fray to round up the last remaining Death Eaters.

It’s Hermione who plants this idea of him going away in his head. She has watched him battle internally with the different possible paths of his future; she had watch him argue and argue with his mind until he still had no answer.

Hermione tells him one night, over tea at the Burrow, “Harry, why don’t you get away for a while?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean go somewhere. Take some time away to heal; to come to terms with the last few years of your life. We’ve spent so long on the move, always having to be aware, that you haven’t had the time to process your emotions for everything.”

“Where would I go?” He whispers, fear creeping into his voice.

“I’m not sure,” Hermione says softly, “Let’s look at a map.” With a flick of her wand, a map of the British Isles lays itself out in front of them. “Where would you fancy?”

“I’m not sure,” Harry confesses, eyes pouring over the details of the maps – taking in the numerous counties.

“Okay. Close your eyes and point on the count of three.” Hermione states, “Are you ready?”

Harry closes his eyes, shuffling forward on the chair, “I’m ready.”

“3…2…1.” Hermione counts, and Harry’s finger circles the map once before landing.

Harry refuses to open his eyes. He’s in disbelief that he’s let himself decide his future on a three, two, one countdown. He’s been impulsive before but now he’s wary.

He doesn’t want to look. “Where am I going then?”

He can hear Hermione shuffle to look at where his finger has landed; her silence giving nothing away.

“Hermione?” He asks, slight panic setting in.

“Harry, take a look.”

Harry opens his eyes, blinking quickly before focusing on the map and his finger.

His finger points to a small village in Yorkshire. A place he had never been to.  

Harry falls back into the chair with a sigh, “I guess that’s where I’m going.”

--------------------------

Spring:

Harry moves in the spring.

He spends the final weeks of winter with the Weasleys being stopped at all times of the day to be told why he shouldn’t be doing this; that he could heal just as well in the wizarding world.

He loves their attempts to get him to stay, but they don’t entirely understand why he needs to go.

He arrives in the small Yorkshire village on a bright day in March; blossoms have started to bloom on the trees and in a week, they would be covered, filling their air with their sweet and floral scent. His misses everyone strongly; feeling it keenly within his chest, but he knows how desperately needed to get away.

A month into his arrival at the small village in the moors, Harry feels he has settled very well into country life. He’s found his routine and he feels as if he’s beginning to heal from the trauma of the war and before. The clean, country air clears his lungs and his daily walks through the village has mind numb enough and his body tired enough that he can sleep through most of the night without waking once from a nightmare.

He still struggles; his still has those moments where he can’t be certain the war has finished and he’s safe but the longer he spends in the village, the less they happen.

A month into his arrival at the small village, Harry realises that he needs to thank Hermione for what she did for him that night at the Burrow. She saw his suffering and gave him a solution.

Walking through the green, he spies the small bookshop nestled on the corner of a small side street. If there was anything on this planet that Hermione loved more than Ron, it was a book.

Harry pauses for an instant outside the door to take in the window display. Both windows, and even the door window, have been painted with a cherry blossom display to mark the true entrance into spring. The blossoms fall from the tree in swirls of pinks and red, falling over the books perched on the windowsill inside – the personal recommendations for the season.

The bell above the door chimes as Harry enters the shop and he is immediately overwhelmed with the smell of old books, worn leather, and what he think is lavender. It is comforting though. He had never been much of a reader other than Quidditch strategy manuals, but something about this little shop has him feeling at home among the countless shelves piled high with books. He takes a few steps further into the shop, eyes running over title after title on multiple paperbacks and hardbacks.

Harry runs his fingers over the spines of the leather-bound volumes but stops when he realises that he hasn’t any idea of the type of book Hermione enjoys to read. She had textbooks in her hands so often at Hogwarts, but Harry can’t recall the last time he had seen her with a fiction book open in her lap.

He frowns, glaring at the books.

“Can I help you?” A lilting voice sounds from behind the stacks, “You look to be in a bad mood with my books, and that can’t possibly be right.”

“This is your shop?”

“For the last year it has been, before that I used to just work weekends.”

“It’s very homely.” Harry compliments.

You chuckle, “It’s overstocked but it adds charm and character, plus the more books there are, the stronger the old book smell and who can resist that! So stranger, how can I help you?”

Harry blushes slightly, “My name is Harry, you can call me Harry. I can’t decide what to buy for a friend.”

You come out from behind the shelves, and Harry’s eyes rake over you – taking in the nose piercing and the small tattoos peeking out of the sleeves of your thin  sweater.

“Well Harry, I���m (Y/N). What does your friend like to read?”

“I don’t really know; I only ever saw her read textbooks at school to keep her grades up.”

You smile understandingly; indecision was something you encountered often in your shop,  “Alright, let’s see what I can drum up. Would you like to follow me?”

Harry nods in answer but you don’t see. You’ve already turned away from him making your way through the complicated maze of shelves. Harry follows blindly, keeping his eyes on the back of your head.

You stop by a shelf that isn’t as occupied as the others. In fact, compared to the other shelves, this one is empty of books. Only a few books stand on the shelf, wide gaps between them.

Your eyes run over their spines; head tilted slightly; you think before pulling a book from its space. “I think this one will do,” you murmur, holding the book out for Harry to take.

“Agnes Grey?” He reads from the front cover.

“You’re in Bronte country, you have to know that right?”

“I’ve never heard of them,” He admits to which you gasp, holding a hand to your chest.

“I am hurt, good sir. You’ll have to buy this book for your friend now.”

Harry smiles, “I think I might. If she has read anything by the Bronte’s, I’m not to know.”

“It’s a rare edition as well. There’s only around a fifty or so copies left so I’m making sure it’s going to good home.”

“It definitely is. My friend worships books.”

You lead Harry to the till where the book is rang through and paid for. “Let me know what she thinks? She must be very special for you to buy this.”

Harry takes the book with a smile, “I’ll be back to let you know.”

---------------------------

Summer:

Spring bleeds into summer, and the floral scent from spring has turned into something headier – pulling Harry out bed earlier, keeping him outside for longer. Each day he walks past your shop, waving back at you as you wave to him from your seat by the till. Harry returns to your shop when he received Hermione’s owl thanking him for his gift and asking where he found such a rare edition.

Harry was more than happy to pass on Hermione’s compliments to you, enjoying the way you light up at his friend’s words.

“What about you? Do you read?” You ask him.

Harry shakes his head. At the look on your face, Harry suddenly wishes he had read every single book available to him and Hogwarts. “You’ll have to recommend something to me.” He suggests.

You disappear between the stacks at his words, reading title after title before finding one you think he would like.

You give a shout of success when you find the book you were looking for. You refuse to show Harry the title as you place it gently into a paper bag.

“I know you’ll like this, but you have to promise me one thing.”

“Which is?” Harry replies, curiosity lacing his tone.

“You have to promise me to come back and tell me if you enjoyed it.”

“I promise.” Harry replies, too fast… much too fast, but it doesn’t seem like you mind.

You smile at him, “I’ll see you soon, hopefully.”

Harry reaches for his wallet, having every intention on paying you but your hand on his arm has him freezing, “No payment needed,” You state firmly, “Just come back and tell me what you think.”

Harry thanks you, which you wave away, before leaving. He hightails it back to his home where he makes himself a pot of coffee and sits down at his kitchen table with your brown paper bag in front of him. He feels nervous as he opens the bag, hands wrapping around a thick paperback.

The book cover is predominantly black, but there are two white figures on the front surrounded by objects found in a circus. Harry take a sip of his coffee before opening to the first page: ‘The circus arrives without warning.’

He doesn’t move for the rest of the day; he remains sat at his kitchen table in awe of the book in front of him. He finishes the coffee but doesn’t get up to make another post for fear of being pulled away from the story so soon. Harry feels as if the author herself has been in contact with magic and understands the base wonder that comes with it. His eyes pour over the pages, committing to memory the love story and the saga of The Night Circus.

He closes the book hours later, feeling both bereft and satisfied at the end.

For a long time, Harry stares at the book wondering how a collection of pages bound in black and white could hold him so tightly to the fictional world.

He goes to bed filled with happiness but also empty from the fact that he had finished it so soon. Thoughts of the books have him falling into a sleep wherein he doesn’t wake screaming from nightmares, but rather dreams of striped monochromatic circus tents and caramel popcorn.

Harry paces his living room until it’s a suitable time to run to your bookshop. The moment the clock strikes nine, he’s out the door, putting on his jacket as he runs. He holds the book in his hands as if it’s made of glass; as if one wrong move, and the dream world he entered from the first page, will be shattered.

The relief Harry feels when he sees your shop light on spurs him faster. He bustles in through the door, giving you a fright. “Harry!”

“What is this book?” He practically shouts, holding the cover up for you to see.

You grin widely, “So you finished it?”

“I didn’t move until I had!” He cries.

“So you enjoyed it then?”

“I loved it. I’ve never read a book like this before.”

“I knew you would. The minute I saw the cover I knew you would enjoy the book.”

“I just couldn’t put it down.”

You nod, knowing that exact feeling so well it was second nature, “Have I brought you to the dark side then, Harry?”

Harry grins toothily, “I don’t know. What else do you have?”

He visits your shop every day after that, bringing you lunch and a takeaway cup of tea. You admitted to him early on in your friendship that you got so caught up in the stacks of books that you often forgot to eat until it was closing time and you were ravenous, so Harry makes it his mission to bring you lunch.

He had never been much of a cook; had never needed to with the house-elves at Hogwarts but for you, he could scrape together a couple of sandwiches and a flask of tea.

Your bookshop gets more traffic through summer due to the tourist season – people come from far and wide to walk the moors and step where the Bronte sisters once did, each imagining their own Heathcliff or Mr. Rochester. Harry hasn’t seen you happier than when you recommend a book to a customer knowing that it is the right fit. You greet every customer with a smile and give them personalised recommendations if they’re struggling with their choice.

The window display changes too. A summer scene now covers the windows and door; bright colours depict a summer sunset at the beach whilst the books recommended this season are lovingly placed on the windowsill.

Summer also brings with it the change in your relationship. A close friendship develops between the two of you; you even going so far to invite Harry over to your flat above the bookshop. Harry’s nervous as he enters your home, but soon falls in love with it.

Pressed, dried flowers decorate the walls in frames. They litter the walls in their varying sizes. Harry finds himself wandering over to them, checking if his seven years of Herbology was to fail him. Irises, rose petals, lavender – he can identify those easily. However, there are some that he feels certain that Professor Sprout or Neville Longbottom wouldn’t be able to identify.

You notice him studying your walls, “It’s a hobby of mine along with the books.”

“It’s wonderful.”

“Thank you,” You murmur, shyly, “My grandmother taught me; she loved the quote by Oscar Wilde.”

“I’m afraid you’ve caught me at a disadvantage.”

“’With freedom, books, flowers and the moon, who could not be happy?’ She lived by this quote. It’s their bookshop below us, you see, and she taught me how to press flowers and she would always find something romantic to say about the moon. My grandmother was a free spirit that even my grandfather could not tame, but why would you want to?”

“She sounds like an incredible woman.”

“She was, I miss her.”

“She’d be proud of how you’re running the shop.”

“Thank you, Harry. Now would you like a drink? I have coffee, tea, hot chocolate…”

“I’ll have a coffee please.” Harry says, sitting down on the aged couch. Your flat is a collision of personalities; he can clearly see your grandparents influence among your own decoration and it creates something entirely unique.

You come back into living room with two mugs of coffee in either hand. You give one to harry before sitting next to him. He smiles at you in thanks before asking, “What are you reading currently?”

From the way your eyes light up as you talk about your current read along with your love for your shop, Harry begins to feel himself slowly fall in love with you.

He can feel the change in the air after that night. His feelings for you are well established within him. You help him feel hope for the future; for a better world – and he wants to share that world with you. but he feels the pressure of his secret weighing down on him.

He hasn’t told you out of fear; he can’t gauge your reaction to finding out he’s a wizard and classed as a war-hero. He’s worried to tell you for the panic that it could potentially ruin the budding relationship between you.

Harry confesses under candlelight. A summer storm knocked out the power, so he helps you light your large collection of candles before lying on the floor of your flat next to you.

There’s something pure about the atmosphere, with being surrounded by tens of candles that Harry feels he needs absolution from keeping this from you for so long. He whispers his confession; tells you everything. From his birth until now. He hopes and hopes for repentance among the flickering flames of the candles.

You’re silent through the exchange; letting Harry say his piece. Giving him the chance to unload the weight of the world upon his shoulders as if he were mighty Atlas.

In the end, what Harry says makes no difference to you. You had fallen in love with him over the short time you had known him, and what he confesses doesn’t affect your feelings in any shape of form. If anything, they make them stronger for it shows how much Harry must trust you to tell you something so deep and personal.

You turn onto your side once Harry has fallen silent and is waiting for your reply. You brush a hand across his forehead, pushing his hair back, looking at the faded pink scar in the shape of a lightning bolt. “You have been through a lot, haven’t you?”

Harry closes his eyes at the feel of your hand running through his hair. He hasn’t felt like this for so long; he cannot remember the last time he had felt this relaxed and safe at the same time. He whispers this to you, “I haven’t felt this safe in a long time.”

“I’m glad I make you feel safe.”

Harry turns onto his side, running a finger down the length of your face. He doesn’t miss how you shiver at his touch. He leans in slightly, intoxicated by your very presence but he pulls away at the last possible moment to ask, “Can I kiss you?”

Your free hand pulls him in by his shirt collar, “I’d thought you’d never ask,” You laugh before pressing your lips to his.

In the few months that he has known you, he has fallen head over heels for you. You help to calm the figurative storm that rages within him. In the little flat above the bookshop he has come to adore, he whispers that he loves you.

----------------------------

Autumn:

Summer gives way to autumn and the leaves begin to fall from the trees in earnest. The world returns to orange brown. Your relationship with Harry goes from strength to strength; you’re there to help with the nightmares and the panic that paralyses him now and then. It starts slow, using the bookshop as common ground to get to know each other better.

You decorate the display windows of the bookshop, bringing in Harry to help, though he would have helped you whether you had asked him or not.  “Tell me again why we’re painting the windows?” he asks.

You flick a clean paintbrush at him, “Because Harry, it is autumn and autumn means one thing: Halloween. I do it every season; spring, summer, autumn and winter.”

Harry frowns, focusing his attention on painting the outline of a pumpkin, “I’ve never celebrated Halloween.”

“You haven’t? Why?”

“My parents were killed on Halloween, and my aunt and uncle never took me trick or treating anyway.”

You step down from the ladder, placing the paint pot to one side and wiping your hands on your apron. Your hand pulls his away from the window, focusing his attention on you. “I didn’t know, Harry, I’m sorry.” You murmur, wrapping him in a hug.

“You weren’t to know,” He sighs, hugging you tightly back.

You draw back slightly, still not letting him go, “How about this: we spend the day of Halloween mourning your parents, and we spend the evening eating ourselves sick on chocolate and sweets?”

“You’d spend the day with me?”

“I wouldn’t want to do anything else.”

So Harry spends his Halloween with you. 

He spends his morning with you in the bookshop, stocking the shelves and reminiscing. You asked him if it would be too painful for him to talk about his parents, but he reassured you that his memories are few and far between so all he truly knows is what he has been told. For the rest of the day, he wanders between the bookshelves, telling you the stories of the Marauders.

“It would make a good book,” You gasp, breathless from laughter as Harry finishes his latest story.

“Do you think?”

“I think that if it was a book, I would definitely read it.”

Harry thinks over your words for a while. He wouldn’t ever write the book; his memories of his family are too precious for him to share with the world but he’s happy to share them all with you. As he dawdles in the shop, inhaling the comforting smell of worn leather and lavender, he thinks that he has never been more grateful for a bookshop in all his life. He feels almost whole again; your shop and you are helping to heal the ever-shrinking hole in his heart.

In the evening, he presses chocolatey kisses to your lips, interrupting you reading the same book that had started this all those months ago. You laugh into his mouth, the book falling to the side as you adjust your positions. You taste like Halloween sweets and he’s entirely addicted to it.

Harry wakes on the first of November with a clearer sense of the path he wants his life to travel down. As he watches you sleep, he knows that it involves books and you – the freedom you offer. Harry watches the sun rise across your face with a new found sense of purpose; he wants to stay here, and he wants to stay with you. He’s lived in this Yorkshire village for months, but he knows now where he wants to plant his roots.

-----------------------------

Winter:

Winter brings with it ice and snow, but it also brings with the year anniversary of his decision to move to the sleepy Yorkshire village.

Hermione and Ron begin to visit often; having not done so earlier to give Harry the chance to heal on his own. Harry introduces them to you on their second visit; you were full of nerves, but they quickly welcomed you into their group. 

Hermione and Ron visit more now; Hermione having set up a book exchange with you.

The display windows have been painted to depict a winter scene; a log cabin with smoke, evergreen trees covered in lights. It looks like a perfect piece of heaven. Little did those who admired the window scene know, that his little piece of heaven involved this small corner bookshop opened each morning with love.

The time he spends in your bookshop has only increased; he tries to spend every waking moment with you, choosing to spend the nights with you in your flat above the shop.

Harry watches you as you help customers or as you dawdle aimlessly through the aisles in a moment of quiet. Your feet pad quietly on the carpeted floor and Harry can hear you hum the tune of a song so often played on the radio.

Harry has never really been a fan of books, but he is a fan of you. And he could watch you in your bookshop all day long.

***************

General (HP) taglist: @the-hufflefluffwriter @obsessedwithrandomthings @kalimagik @summer-writes @lupins-sweater @slytherinprincess03 @mischiefsemimanaged @soleil-amaryllis @masterofthedarkness @bforbroadway @chaotic-fae-queen @peachesandpinks @nebulablakemurphy @haphazardhufflepuff @siriusly-addicted-to-writing @firewhisky-kisses @deafgirltingz @kylosleftbuttcheek @heloisedaphnebrightmore @harrypotter289 @sprvpti @accio-rogers @potterverseimagine @figlia--della--luna @angelinathebook @dreamer821​

[lillywillow]

From Russia With Love

Summary: When Steve and Bucky investigate an old HYDRA base left over from World War II, they find something nobody could have ever predicted... A pilot from the legendary 588th night bomber regiment frozen in time.

 Word Count: 2117

 Square Filled: Military Base

 Pairings: Bucky x Female Reader

 Warnings: WWII warfare, slight angst

Written for @star-spangled-bingo

 Author’s Note: Although I will be using real historical people and events, some of the names and actions I will be using are fictional. The 588th night bomber regiment were an all female squadron from Russia in World War II. They were given hand-me-down men’s uniforms and poor, outdated equipment. Their planes were not designed for combat. The planes let out a whistle as it idled through the sky which the German’s thought sounded like a broomstick, giving them the nickname ‘Die Nachthexen’ or Night Witches.

 Germany, 1944. Three Polikarpov U-2 biplanes move silently through the night sky, their engines cut at the behest of the navigators. A soldier was making his rounds about the perimeter of the base when an unearthly scream pierced the air. A chill ran down his spine as he looked around. Suddenly, a shadow of a plane darkens the ground. The soldier abruptly realised what was happening.

 “Die Nachthexen!” he screamed. The base was rapidly brought to life with activity when the air raid siren wailed. Soldiers rushed to man the anti-aircraft guns as the Night Witches dropped the first bomb. Two of the planes broke formation to draw away the ground fire as the third dropped the next bomb. The last plane made a sharp turn and was able to drop the last bomb on the base. With their mission complete, the engines went back on and the planes headed home to Russia.

 Out of nowhere, a German fighter plane appeared. The biplanes were slower but their much smaller size gave them an advantage in the fact they had a tight turning ratio but for one plane, it wasn’t enough. One of the pilots cried out in pain as a bullet grazed her arm. The canvas wings of the plane were ablaze, there was no other option but to bring the plane down. The navigator held the pilot’s shoulders to steady her as they crashed into the ground.

 Dazed by the impact, the pilot held her head, feeling something wet and warm drip down her face. She turned behind her to check on her navigator whose head was slumped to her chest. She reached for her hand.

 “Yelena... I’m sorry...” Black spots swam in her vision before the darkness took over.

...

Germany, present day. Steve and Bucky were called on a mission to investigate what was possibly a HYDRA base left over from WWII. On their way in, they noticed the remains of a downed plane a few miles out from the base that nature had taken over in the course of sixty years give or take. On the surface, it had the hell bombed out of it. Steve managed to find a charred door in amongst the wreckage and went in, Bucky following behind. Underground was a rabbit warren of rooms and passageways, their secrets lost to time, waiting to be uncovered.

 “We should split up,” Steve said, getting out his flashlight. Bucky nodded and got out his own. The duo headed in, checking each and every room for anything that might be of HYDRA origin.

 This place gave Bucky the creeps and bad memories began to invade his mind; memories of when he lost his identity of Sergeant James Buchannan Barnes and given the new one of The Winter Soldier. Room after room they looked in until Steve found something.

 “Buck, you gotta see this...” Bucky made his way to where Steve called him to and whatever he was expecting, this was not it. The room was still lit with sickening fluorescent lights. In the back corner, there were two pods. One was empty, whatever test subject it held was long gone. The other had a woman still cryogenically frozen inside. Bucky placed his right hand on the glass.

 “She’s just like me...”

 “Think you can make sense of these?” Steve asked, holding up a dusty file written in German. Bucky picked them up and read through the notes. It stated the woman’s name and why she was there. There was also information on a second woman, presumably whoever was in the second pod. Apparently, they were going to be used for a programme akin to the Winter Soldiers or the Red Room but the project had been scrapped and only one of the subjects was moved.

 “I’m going to let Fury know what we’ve found.” Steve headed out to make the call but Bucky stayed behind. He couldn’t leave this woman all alone now that he knew she was there.

...

 Feeling a pounding in your head, you opened your eyes. Slowly, you sat up, looking around. You appeared to be back in your base. Funny... you didn’t remember making it back. The last thing you remembered was crashing after completing a mission. Was a rescue sent out and that’s how you got here? You spotted another woman in one of the other beds. Steadily, you got up and went over to her.

 “Come on, Yelena. We’ve got another mission,” you said, shaking her shoulder. As she sat up, you immediately noticed that this was not your navigator.

 “You’re not Yelena...”

 “No, I’m a new recruit. My name is Natalia Romanova,” she replied in Russian.

 “Well I hope you’re a quick study, Natalia. Major Bershanskaya will not make things easy for you. Now get ready. Training for you starts now.”

 As you got dressed, something struck you as very odd. Your uniform fitted perfectly like it was tailored for you and your boots weren’t oversized. It set off alarm bells in your head but you didn’t want to frighten the new girl. As you headed out, you saw an officer standing and waiting for you.

 “Who are you?” you asked, confused as to why this man would be here, especially one who looked so high up in command. Something else that you noticed was that there were planes around the base.

 “I’m your new commanding officer...” That did it. There was no way your commander would leave her girls. You managed to snatch his sidearm but even faster, Natalia had you in a headlock, one hand holding the wrist you held the gun.

 “Who are you?! Where am I?! What have you done with Yelena?! Where is my navigator?!” The pair exchanged a look and conversed in English, something you didn’t understand.

 “I can explain everything... just give me the gun,” the man prompted. Slowly, you handed him the sidearm which he put away and Natalia let go of you.

 “You have been asleep for over sixty years...”

 “What?! How?! We... we were just there... and... Yelena! Where is she? Is she okay? Is she safe?” The pair exchanged another look.

 “You were the only one we found in the base...” You broke down sobbing and straight away the man held you up as you trembled. He rubbed your back and stroked your hair which you found strangely comforting. How could you have been asleep for sixty years? It was only hours ago you were flying to drop bombs on German bases.

...

 A few hours later, you were sitting by the window of the room which had been set up for you thinking over all the new information which had been given to you. They had given you new clothes but the only ones who spoke your language were the ones you met at the fake base camp. Your thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door.

 “May I come in?” A male’s voice asked.

 “Yes...” The man who you came to learn was named Bucky walked in with a plate of food.

 “I thought you might like something to eat...”

 “I’m not hungry...”

 “I know what you’re going through but you still need to eat...”

 “How could you possibly know what I’m going through?! Do you know what it’s like to be with friends one minute and find out they’re all gone?! To wake up in a strange place with strange people?! To have no idea what the hell is going on?!” He was quiet for a few moments.

“Actually... I do.” You were taken aback from his response. Bucky sat down on your bed and began telling you his life’s story.

 He told you about his best friend Steve who always used to getting in trouble. He enlisted in the American army the moment he could. His time in the Howling Commandos. About how he fell off the train and became a weapon for HYDRA for decades. As he spoke, his eyes began to ghost over, reliving the old memories that you could see were haunting him. You sat next to him and held his hand. Bucky hastily wiped his eyes.

 “What about you? Tell me your story...”

 You smiled softly. You told him about your father who died defending Osowiec Fortress and how it inspired you to fight for your country. When the call went out for women to fly bomber planes, you and your best friend Yelena Belsky both applied and got in, you as a pilot and she as a navigator. You flew many sorties together. Your commander Major Yevdokiya Bershanskaya was stern but fair with you girls but taught you everything you knew. You spoke about your last mission, the one you were on when your plane was shot down.

 Bucky listened to your every word, looking at you with total admiration. Most of the men looked at you with pity or distain. You couldn’t help but blush a little under his intense gaze.

 “I, um... I think I’ll have something to eat now,” you mumbled, taking the plate he brought with him. “Thank you...”

 “Anytime... if you ever want to talk, you can always come to me. Nat should be available too...”

 “I appreciate that.”

 To Bucky, those memories were a lifetime ago but to you, they were only like yesterday. It somehow felt good to share those stories with someone who understood what it was like to go through the same thing you were.

...

 The months flew by and before you knew it, a year had passed. Between Natasha and Bucky you were now fluent in English. They taught you hand to hand combat and other things you would need to join The Avengers, although, you were pretty much an ace pilot when it came to the jets. Natasha became your best friend and you frequently spoke in Russian with her. You formed a bond with Steve too once the language barrier came down, sharing war stories with each other but the person on the team you were closest to was Bucky. He taught you a lot over the months and it wasn’t long before you started dating. It was inevitable.

...

 One night, you were standing on the balcony, looking at the moon and thinking about that fateful night you were assigned to bomb that base all those years ago. You wondered if your friend was dead or alive. The team had told you they would help you find her, searching all HYDRA archives they came across and Bucky helped you to follow every lead. Your heart hoped for the best but you knew to expect the worst.

 “Hey, Doll.” You turned to see Bucky standing in the doorway. He walked over to you and put his arm around you, kissing your head. “What’s on your mind?”

 “Yelena... I can’t help but hope that I’ll find her one day. She was like my sister. Natasha has been wonderful, you all have but it’s hard being stuck in the past...”

 “Tell me about it,” Bucky muttered softly. “You know... it’s been just over a year now since we met...”

 “So it has,” you wistfully replied. “Time sure flies...”

 “It sure does... and I don’t want to waste any more of it.” You looked confused as Bucky pulled away from you.

 “When I was called on that mission to uncover an old HYDRA base, I never thought I would meet the love of my life. You’re one of the bravest, strongest, most incredibly women I know. Will you marry me?” Bucky got down on one knee and presented you with a beautiful ring. You couldn’t help but tear up.

 “Yes, Bucky, I will!” Bucky smiled and stood up, sliding the ring on your finger and kissing you.

 Who knew that a German base lost to time would connect two military personals so perfectly together?

[deathlikesdeep-dish]

Hi! Congrats on having 100 followers! I really like your works😗 can I request for prompt number 2 (SFW)with Law. Thank youuuuu so much!

Hi Anon!

So sorry this took so long, but I hope it was worth the wait!! 

Prompt 2: “In case we don’t make it back...” (Law x Reader) SFW

Word Count: 3k

Synopsis: in the weeks leading up to the events at dressrosa, you find yourself falling for the brooding heart pirates captain. the odds aren’t good. so, in case you don’t make it back...

warnings: language, a little angst, some fluff 

Dressrosa is a hellscape. But only you seem to know it. Everyone around you seems to be content with the facade that has been created--no one ever asks questions, everyone is always smiling. But you know better. You know just how dark the underbelly of this place really is. Everyone seemed to love the Donquixote family--adored them, in fact. From the saccharine persona of Sugar, to the repulsive Trebol, all the way up to the pink bastard himself, Doflamingo--everyone cherished them. The protection that a warlord could provide a country couldn’t be discounted to them, though many of  the citizens of Dressrosa had given their sentient lives for it. But you hoped that one day, the people of Dressrosa would see that though their god wore bright clothing, his soul was nothing but darkness. 

Two Weeks Prior

You’d known of the Strawhat pirates for a while now, keeping track of their movements. Their captain is reckless, but determined to take down Doflamingo, which worked in your favor, certainly. The news of their alliance with warlord colleague, Trafalgar Law was, you admit, a surprise. But you’d been intrigued by the inked captain, so you decided to take advantage of the opportunity and introduce yourself. 

He and the Strawhat captain, Monkey D. Luffy, seemed to be in an argument when you first saw him at the docks. Well, a more apt description might be that Law was arguing with Luffy, who seemed very unconcerned with his ally’s thoughts.

You walk closer, not wanting to alert them to your presence quite yet. As you approach, you hear what they’re arguing about.

“Will you just listen to me, idiot?” Law gritted through his teeth. “This plan is insane, it is not going to work.”

“Lighten up, Tra-guy,” Luffy replied easily, grinning as he slapped a hand on Law’s shoulder. 

He shoved Luffy’s hand off with a huff. “Lighten up?” You took a step closer. “Lighten up?” He asked again, his voice increasing in volume. “Do you little shits have any idea who this guy is? He’s a warlord.” He paused, a sad, distant look on his face, 

“He’s right,” You said, finally within earshot of the two pirates. Their heads snapped to you, alarmed at the interruption. 

“Who the hell are you?” Law said, narrowing his eyes. His body followed the direction of his head, and he now faced you squarely. Now fully upright, you could see just how tall  he was, standing nearly two heads above his pirate ally. Your eyes were drawn to his striking features--dark eyes, dark hair, dark whorls of ink on his exposed skin. You were particularly drawn to his hands. Long fingers stained with black tattoos, the fingers you knew were capable of bringing a person to their knees with just a simple gesture. Room.

You knew he was handsome from his wanted poster, but damn, it did not fully capture the brooding magnetism that you saw in front of you right now. 

“I’m y/n,” You finally replied, closing the gap between you and the pair. “I live here, in Dressrosa.” 

Luffy began to talk, but Law clapped his hand over Luffy’s mouth, silencing him. “Shut up,” Law said with a clenched jaw. Luffy grumbled, trying to rip Law’s hand away.

You dropped your weapon in a show of good faith.. “Just hear me out. Please.” You needed to convince Law (Luffy didn’t seem like he needed much convincing) that you were on their side. Any side that was equally interested in annihilating the Don Quixote family. 

Law looked at you suspiciously, and signaled for you to continue talking. You explained everything to them. You explained how you’d come here to Dressrosa after escaping capture. You’d made a life for yourself, selling your wares at the market in town. Seeing walking toys was jarring, to say the least, but what was even more jarring was the fact that no one seemed to be asking any questions about it. In fact, the citizens of Dressrosa seemed to be downright chirpy. It made your skin crawl. And Doflamingo was too revered, despite his seedy grin and disreputable demeanor. 

So you did some digging, you told them. And you’d inadvertently discovered the awful secret of the country. It all made sense, and it made you despise the oligarchy even more. There were a few that were a part of the underground rebellion, to whom you swore your allegiance. When you found out that Trafalgar Law had potential plans to overthrow the man who once enslaved him, you were practically writhing with vigor and excitement at the prospect. 

The captains listened closely, not interrupting once. Even the rambunctious Strawhat was rapt with attention. When you finally finished your tale, you leaned against the rocky cliff face at the mouth of the dock, waiting for a reaction. 

After a few moments of silence, you spoke again, hoping that with these next words, your trust would be earned. “I’m sorry about Corazon. I didn’t know him personally, but I’ve heard him discussed. It seems like he was a great man.” 

Law’s face went pale at the sound of his friend’s name, and Luffy looked over to him with a puzzled look. But even Luffy could tell that this was not something to ask about right now. He’d never seen Law look like this before. 

He was silent for a long few minutes, and you began to regret your decision. Maybe mentioning Corazon wasn’t the right move. Damn it, damn it, damn it. You needed their trust. Their help. The very lives of the people in this country depended on garnering this rapport.

“Look, I’m sorry. I should have mention--” You were cut off.

“The rebellion,” Law interrupted. “You have strong fighters?” 

Your heart leapt. Maybe this was actually going to work. “Yes, but we need more. Diamante has been on our ass for a few months, so we have a hard time maintaining our numbers.” 

You could see that he was considering, and after another second he said, “Take us to your base.”

That was two weeks ago. 

The plan was made, the date set. Tomorrow, you would join Law, Usopp and Robin in their journey to Green Bit. Aboard the Sunny, one would not think a deadly battle was looming over the pirates’ heads. You’d learned so much about the crew over the past few weeks, and it filled you with such a hope that you’d long denied yourself. 

The Strawhats are fearless, confident. So much so, that despite Law’s ever gloomy pessimism, you cannot find it within you to worry. For the first time since arriving in that dreadful place, you feel at home. You take a deep, cleansing breath in, and exhale fully. Luffy, Chopper and Usopp are restless waiting for the food that Sanji is preparing in the kitchen, jamming their chopsticks childishly into their own noses or ears. Nami smacks Luffy across the back of the head with an annoyed look, and Robin reads quietly to herself. Zoro leans against the side of the ship, a disgruntled look on his face and a bottle of sake in his hand. To Zoro’s right, there’s Caesar scowling petulantly, still confined by his sea prism stone handcuffs.  Franky is waiting for dinner below deck, refueling the ship with cola from the last Coup de Burst, while Brook blankets the whole evening with tinkling violin music. 

The only one missing, you notice looking around, is Law. Standing up from your spot, you approach Zoro and snatch the sake out of his hand abruptly and take a swig. Rather than giving it back, you keep it with you, walking away too quickly for Zoro to object (though you can hear him grumbling irritatedly from behind you, before he calls for another bottle). 

You climb the steps to the helm, and notice him alone at the stern of the ship, leaning over the banister. He doesn’t notice you at first, allowing you an extra few silent moments to stare at him from behind. It’s an usually warm evening, so he isn’t wearing his heavy cloak, opting for black long-sleeved t-shirt, which he has cuffed up to his elbows. With his forearms exposed, you can see how his tattoos wind around the sinews there, seeming to underline toned bands of muscle under the skin. Your eyes rove his back, which is visible through the fitted black shirt. His broad shoulders narrow to a thin waist, and he stretches his arms above his head, exposing a sliver of skin from his lower back. 

You’d been so occupied by the sight of his body, you almost didn’t notice another striking difference in his appearance. Normally covered by his ridiculous mushroom hat, his shaggy hair is exposed and rustling in the salty breeze. He reaches a hand up to run through his hair, pausing to grip the hair at the back of his neck roughly, as if he was frustrated. You find yourself wondering if his hair is as soft as it looks under the light of the moon and the stars. You feel a coil tighten ever-so-slightly within your core, but you approach anyway.

“Don’t you want dinner?” You call, making sure you gave him plenty of time and space before you closed the gap between you completely. He stiffens momentarily, but relaxes as he hears your voice again. “Sanji should be almost done.”

He cranes his head over this shoulder toward you, but makes no effort to turn his body with it before turning his head back face forward, looking out onto the vast ocean. You stand next to him, leaning your elbows on the banisters as he was doing beside you. You offer the bottle of sake to him wordlessly. He takes it, drinking from it for a moment before handing it back to you. 

Though he does not indicate it, he appreciates your silence in moments like these. He never feels pressured to talk around you, to present fake niceties or meaningless chatter. He also, much to his horror, has found that he appreciates your company in and of itself. Your presence simultaneously calms and arouses his nervous system. He doesn’t understand it, but being the man of science that he is, he plans to observe and collect data. For research purposes, he tells himself. Only research purposes. 

“Not really hungry,” He replies, giving you a sidelong glance as you hang on the railing beside him. 

“C’mon, Law, what’s it been? Like three days since you last ate with us?” You jab him in the side in a way that you hope comes off as playful, though you really are becoming increasingly concerned with his disengagement.

He shrugs, neither in confirmation or denial. Over the time you’d spend together, you found yourself growing more and more attached to him daily. You found that you always wanted to have eyes on him, and were viscerally uncomfortable when he wasn’t around. Law, too, had become accustomed to some uneasiness with your absence, or his from you. He had no frame of reference for this feeling, and it scared him. But he wanted to understand it, needed to understand it. 

“You’re starting to worry me a bit,” You say, breaking him from his thoughts. You do your best to keep it lighthearted, but as he flinches a bit at the words, you realize that you have not been very lighthearted at all. 

Law hates that he cares about you, what you think of him. Even worse, he hates that you care about him. He knows from the way you look at him, recognizing your look of longing in his own eyes whenever he dared to look at himself in a mirror. But caring about him has only meant death for the people he’d cared about before. An image of Corazon’s bloodied body flashes through your mind and he cringes again. He casts his eyes downward and presses his mouth into a thin, tight line. 

“Hey,” You say softly. It breaks your heart to see him like this. You want him to feel better. You want to be the one that makes him feel better. You’re warm and brave from the alcohol you’ve consumed and you place a hand gently on his forearm. Recoiling from your touch, he inhales sharply. But you don’t remove your hand. 

“Hey,” You say again even more quietly, afraid that even a decibel too loud will scare the fragile husk away from you. “It’s going to be okay. Tomorrow, that is. We have a solid plan.”

Law finally dares to look at you. Like that first day that you met, his eyes are filled with dejection. He wants very badly to believe your words. Coming out of your mouth, they sound so sweet. Coming out of your mouth, he almost allows himself to yearn. To yearn for a way to change the past, but also to yearn for a new, and brighter future. 

“I’ve lost everyone I’ve cared about.” Law replies. “They’re all either dead, or so far from here that they may as well be, considering the fact that I will likely never see them again.” 

His voice drops to a whisper. “You know as well as I do, y/n. This mission has a very low chance for success.”

You don’t reply. You do know this. It is Doflamingo, afterall. But for some reason, his reply irks you more than it normally would.

“What the hell, Law?” Your irritation is clear in your voice. “Is it so difficult for you to be even a little positive? Is that really so unbearable?”

His eyes narrow. “When you’ve seen the shit that I’ve seen, yeah, it is really so unbearable.” He mocks your tone, making you fume.

“The shit that you’ve seen?” You raise your eyebrows. “The shit that you’ve seen? We’ve all seen shit we’d like to forget, Law! The only difference between you and all of us, is that we don’t carry that shit on our back like a fucking martyr all the damn time.” Your voice climbs to a yell, and it echoes across the dark water in the stillness of the night.

He hates that you’re right. Hates that he’s such a coward, and that he has a martyr complex to top it all off. 

“How arrogant you are,” You continue, your fury propelling you forward. “To believe that everything is always your fault. Sometimes life is just shit, Law. That’s all there is to it.”

Angry tears well up in your eyes, but you don’t back down. You refuse to look away. 

He is silent, but holds your gaze as intensely as you are holding his. You feel the air shift, anger slowly shifting into something altogether new. You notice, with sudden clarity, that you are close to Law. Very close. You are trembling, but he is too. A long, shuddering breath passes through his open lips. His breath smells faintly of the sake, the sweetness of the fruit mingling with the acrid scent of the alcohol itself. 

He places one hand on the railing behind you, brushing against your side as he does. “You’re right, y/n,” He says, never taking his eyes off of you. “Sometimes life is just shit.” 

He leans down and continues. “A lot of times life is just shit. And you can’t deny that this situation is shit too. We’re relying on a lot of variables to fall into place in just the right way, at just the right time, and in my life, that has pretty much never fucking happened.” His tone is hard. 

He is being drawn to you in a way that confounds him. As if he was possessed, he closes the final few inches between you. His chest and yours are pressed against one another, and the tattooed hand on the railing slowly drifts to the back of your head. He leans his forehead on yours and tangles his surprisingly delicate fingers in the strands of your hair.

“So,” He murmurs. Your heart is pounding so hard that you wonder if he has ripped it from your chest already. “In case life is as shit as it’s always been...in case we don’t make it back…”

His lips meet yours. At first, you can’t breathe. You freeze, but you feel him stiffen and try to pull away. He thinks he has made a huge mistake, ruining yet another good thing in his life with his egocentrism. But your hands grasp the fabric of his t-shirt, and pull him back into you, so his lips never leave yours. 

He sighs in relief, moving his mouth deliberately on yours. If this is the last night he has, he wants to make it worth something. He wants one night to be worth something. Your fingers unfurl from his shirt, and you slide your hands up his chest, finally wrapping your arms around his neck. One hand is at the nape of your neck, the other at the small of your back. 

There is not an inch of space between you, not a millimeter. Your lips and his fit together like he and misery always had. He allows himself to believe, just for this moment, that you could replace the misery in his life. He allows himself to believe that this won’t be your last kiss. He gives himself permission to believe that you and he would be here again tomorrow, and the next day, and the next day after that.

For once, he grants himself the license to hope.

[reynie-muldoons]

'The Art of Conveyance and Round-Trippery' Liveblog!

Sorry this is a few days late!! I moved across the country this weekend, we drove like 13 hours within 2 days and we did a lot of heavy lifting. I'm exhausted, but the boxes are slowly emptying and I've been wanting to watch this episode so gd bad, so LESGO

Over halfway through the season!!!! That's absolutely surreal

1:11 oooh they're getting their royal fitting

1:22 LMAOO WTF 😂😂 Princess Diaries vibes

1:42 ✨CONFIDENCE✨

1:52 Alfonse is a perfect name for that guy HAHA

2:05 Nathaniel, my guy, you've made some points

2:11 "do you feel your power?" POWER RANGERS, GO

2:24 no no hesitation just prolly thinkin bout how he was caught cheatin

2:39 "can you not allow yourselves luxury?" okay fr I feel that I get Nice Things Guilt(tm) too easily

2:52 dayummmm let's talk about Sticky being a hat stall between Hufflepuff and Gryffindor, mans is brave as fuck under extreme pressure and loyal to the point of putting himself on the line

3:15 bro Sticky getting some recognition. Love to see it, he deserves it

3:19 "is that a coincidence? Or written in the stars?" IS DR. CURTAIN CATCHING ON THAT THEY KNEW EACH OTHER BEFORE OR LIKEEEE

3:49 WHAT WORD AROUND CAMPUS 😭😭😭 MY BOYS ARE NOT A MISTAKE HOW DARE YOU

4:09 why doess the action of Dr. Curtain putting the sash on them seem so nefarious

4:36 I dont really understand the whole pastel yellow, blue, and pink palette of the school but the boys both look pretty okay in their vest-sash getup

4:42 THE OPENINGGGGG. This shit slaps.

5:41 Kate and Constance look so fucking cute in that shot, dont ask me why but hnnggggg

5:54 sash rope 😂😭 kate, honey, that's a reach

6:09 it might feel buttery, but, my guy, it also looks buttery. It's literally the color of butter. Get yourself some crisco

6:24 I find it kinda interesting that they made up new riddles for the show, I'm almost positive that that one wasn't in the book. Correct me if I'm wrong though

7:03 "I'm not gonna apologize for knowing things" the sass. the ✨confidence✨. living for it

7:03 If they build on that it sets Sticky up really nicely for the arc in the second book where he starts to show off a little

7:15 tiny Constance who is constantly dressed in pink with cute little braids is the perfect medium for the most morbid comments 😂😂

7:55 Martina's hot in her uniform. Can't prove me wrong.

8:15 why does that make me sad 🥺 eat with your friendssss. iirc they only talked about eating at the Messenger table in the books

8:26 dipshits forgot their lunches. Seems Constance is holding the communal braincell atm

8:50 anyone have Guiness on speed dial? Reynie and Sticky have a submission for them

9:25 oh hello this was alluded to in the preview!!! Morse code is compromised, rip

10:05 so are Jackson and Jillson stuck with night guard duty all the time?? They've been outside at night a lot

10:18 ahhhhhh the little blinkie light, stopppp

10:25 MILLIGANNNNN!!!

10:25 so is this the point where he starts staying on the island with them????

10:39 so are they just like "fuck it we'll do it right before sundown" ???? Like Jackson and Jillson are still gonna be on the lookout, they aren't gonna chill just because it's not fully dark

10:50 did the kids.....just not tell them that Mr. Bloom was on the island 😂 nice oversight guys

11:05 MADGE TIME MADGE TIME

11:05 remind me to tell you guys a story about Madge, I may or may not have done something irl a few years ago that would make y'all proud 😂😂😂

11:16 idk why but it makes me so happy that they kept Madge as a peregrine falcon

11:37 Rhonda, my love, you have my heart in your hands

11:46 roll credits

12:05 THE HEAD SHAKE HAHAHAH

12:06 Awww man, I was so excited for Milligan to be on the island .-. He must have been scoping out the inlet

12:07 "they're quite regal" A. I read the subtitles as "legal" the first time and that's somehow really in character for him, and B. IS MILLIGAN GOING TO NAME HER???!? HER MAJESTY???? PLEASE I WOULD LOVE THAT SO MUCH

12:15 his grimace KILLS ME

12:17 the hard cut from Nicholas in a brown setting and brown suit to Nathaniel in a blue setting and blue suit was lowkey striking

12:36 are they looking up Morse code 😳 can you imagine if they wrote down the message and are now decoding it

12:41 omfg all that for a HAT 🙃 I feel stupid

12:51 two things: 1. Those walls are atrocious, and 2. Yeah, talk about Morse code in a louder voice Connie girl, you're just in a public hallway

13:03 I'm sorry but those orange pillar things are not the vibe

13:03 the golden gate bridge called, they want their arches back

13:10 please let Kate climb the tower before the end of season 1. please.

13:22 y'all are about to be flying something else 😎

13:33 cleansing breaths

13:47 OH HELLO MESSENGER DUTY ALREADY??

14:06 what the heck is that teal pole for 😭😭

14:12 blindfold timeeee

I'm so sorry but I'm exhausted, it's 11:30 pm on Sunday night right now, I'll finish this episode tomorrow morning after I get some sleepies

~~

Good morningggg lesgetatit

14:50 "vomit of metal" ashhdjdjd

15:16 a wild Martina appears!

15:36 and if you folks look to your left, you'll see a wild Constance being the voice of reason once again

15:57 "lose the bucket" "I'm not gonna do that" HELL YEAH KATE

16:07 I get not having the bucket on the court lolol, I thought Martina was telling Kate to lose the bucket in general. Like, yeah, good luck convincing her to so that

16:35 show!Kate is much angrier than book!Kate and I'm still deciding how I feel about that. The Kate we've known from the books is a sunshine baby with looots of repressed trauma.

17:03 ......what is that. why is that.

17:11 WAIT IS THAT SUPPOSED TO BE REYNIE AHEHDJDJD

17:15 HI MADGE

17:41 the grand swell in the music makes me think it's going to go comically wrong

17:51 she's majestic because she's a queen 🥺

18:03 LMAO CALLED IT

18:14 Rhonda and Number Two getting at each other is such a sisterly thing to do 😂😂😂

18:37 ohhhhh? Someone's approaching? Miss Perumal perhaps????

18:45 YEAHHHHH BABY

18:50 PROTECTIVE MOM COMIN IN HOT!!!

19:22 THEYRE SO PRECIOUS 😭😭😭😭 I feel like I've been subconsciously starved for her and Mr. Benedict's interactions

19:36 died at that line in the one trailer

20:00 so Miss Perumal pulled a Sherlock Holmes. Love that for her

20:20 Cheri Tupintown??? Of all the aliases they could pick, Cheri Tupintown???

20:33 "Power in Truth Inc" that HAS to be something Rhonda came up with

21:01 you can literally watch Mr. Benedict realize that this is a woman not to be fucked with and he is CORRECT

21:23 "he's fine. Perfectly fine." At this, Mr. Benedict's pants caught aflame.

21:52 something about Constance sitting in on practice!!! It scratches an itch!!!!

22:19 "incorporate the helix. Live in the helix." Lord Helix is pleased with this offering.

22:26 so what I'm hearing is Kate is going to blow up on Constance for messing with the bucket

23:13 unrelated but Jillson'a shoes are cute

23:29 why does this room give off Johnny Depp's willy wonka vibes

24:13 that looks like a chair from a doctor's office waiting room 😭

25:29 they do be egg heads tho

26:02 baby girl, I have no idea why you're crying at weird art but let me dry your tears 🥺🥺

26:50 SHE FOUND ITTTT

27:27 okay Indiana Jones, go off

27:46 why did that kinda sound like Miss Perumal

28:43 the return of everyone's favorite, "enjoyable"

29:05 not that I'm not loving the ice breaker questions and the one-sided conversation, but I'm not loving it

29:22 oh so we're getting right into it aren't we

29:54 his eyes being open again makes this infinitely creepier

30:36 "where's your proof?" Miss Perumal doesnt fuck around!!!

31:29 you're telling me Constance has been there all day?? And Kate went to find her???? 🥺

31:58 oh so we're getting right to it then?? Kate addressing her independence and trust issues arc????

33:29 NEWS!!!!

33:49 CONSTANCE RIDING PIGGYBACK!!!!!!

34:04 okay, so they opened the murder hole, what are they gonna do now

34:59 Italian? 🤨 m'sir that is so fancy

34:59 fun story I learned Italian diction in college, so I know a little bit

35:16 "take your time" the whisperer says, immediately repeating the prompt to get the answer sooner

35:31 theeeeere it is

35:46 SOMETHING ABOUT THE WHISPERER SAYING "YOU ARE HOME" 😭😭😭 the show really played up the cult shit!!

36:02 Kate being protective of Constance 🥺

36:20 ohhh shit is it time for Connie girl to have double Reynie? Double Sticky?

36:36 STICKY

36:52 "what kind of nonsense?" HAVE THEY NOT ASKED THAT BEFORE THIS?????

37:14 "and your tiny brain can somehow pick it up!!" KATE STOP 😂😂😂

37:16 "I knew you had to be special in some way." WE DONT HAVE TIME TO UNPACK ALL OF THAT

37:51 she's right, this is disregard for their safety. The show made Mr. Benedict and his team a lot more back-alley and dishonest, and Miss Perumal has every reason to be pissed

38:30 oh good they finally remembered he has narcolepsy

39:38 and the best mom award goes to:

40:38 I was gonna say that this hallway is how I imagined the KEEP in riddle of ages but then I remembered that (spoilers) the Institute is the KEEP

40:46 oh, hello propoganda

41:10 that's the other person Rhonda couldn't contact, along with Mr. Bloom. This has to be the brainsweeping process

41:22 yeppppp

41:44 this dark doctor's office theme gives me horror movie vibes

42:22 ohhhh, so that's how they replaced that scene where the four of them jump in a crate to hide and Sticky drops his glasses in the open

42:47 and so we've come to the part of the story where Sticky and Reynie become infinitely more conflicted

42:47 and since we've reached that point..... can we have the white knight scene? Pretty please? Please Disney I'm begging you-

43:12 so Reynie just figured that out without Constance? :/

44:03 love the manipulation

44:31 I'm sorry, the farm?

44:35 farm and forest????

45:16 "the Emergency has served its purpose" 😳 well okay then murder man

45:39 "one thought, one purpose" the hive mind rises once more

45:48 LOVE THE MANIPULATION

46:07 "what have you done to earn anyone's trust?" VALID

46:26 "please do!" WHY AM I EMOTIONAL

47:06 "we still have the falcon" that you do 😂

47:19 AYYY HERE WE GO!!! Time for Milligan to stay on the island??

47:49 ohhhh Constance, casual telepath strikes again

48:16 "stop it, Kate!" OOOOHHHHH

48:53 that line ("it would be nice to be unburdened") would be funny as shit if not for the fact that Constance is a telepath unbeknownst to herself and can both subconsciously perceive people's thoughts and hear the subliminal messages

49:20 HI MRS. PERUMAL!!!

49:25 wow, she's really going through with it 😳 not that I doubted her, but still, that's dedication

49:39 OH SHIT

50:17 oh, so he's an asshole to SQ too. Got it. Torches and pitchforks? Ready to kick his ass?

50:40 "for the moment, anyway" FUCKIN WHAT

This episode was really good!!! They covered a LOT. I hope Miss Perumal comes back to the group and talks about her findings, I hope Milligan goes to get the kids and they tell him no, and I hope they get that classic 4-person Society brainstorming and binding time that hits that sweet spot

[atinybitofau]

S E O N G H W A ⥈ mafia au series

RECAP: you finally have to close the deal with the devil and you meet with Hongjoong one last time before becoming a married woman. you also decide to postpone a honeymoon for another time.

word count: 2010+ , tags: angst

characters: ateez (ensemble), fem!reader

⤩ CHAPTER 2 ⤩

character list . prologue . one

Turns out Jongho had a thing for weeding out the imperfections, flaws in a woman. It was easy for him, arriving no later than 11 in the morning to join both you and San after your dress fitting to do your hair.

“I can fix the hair.” The city turned country gangster’s lips grimace at the dark bags under your drooping eyes. “The makeup.. you’ll have to do on your own, sweetheart.”

You clutch on the silver necklace he’s handed you before he put his hands on your head, the thought of blessing Seonghwa with an engagement gift beyond your intentional rights. You play with the small compass charm between your fingers and gaze at your reflection in the mirror.

So you look like complete shit: lack of sleep, lack of encouragement, lack of pride. This was you in your most pitiful state and the boys could only spare mercy in your absence of excitement. You’ve always dreamed about family and weddings— the trends in modern life you were never entitled to try. Seonghwa was already giving you parts of the world you’ve always wanted and you couldn’t hate him for that. The arrangement however was something you’ll have to hold against him.

“You look beautiful.” Yunho nods in your direction after Jongho fluffs at your curled hair. “Y/n, you do. Now stop frowning and making it worse.”

You let out an upheaval sigh. “Remind me again why I have to dress up for such a casual occasion.”

San scoffs from the side still nitpicking his sleek suit. “This is your wedding, y/n. Have some respect for yourself. It’s the least you can do.”

“It’s a wedding with a man I don’t even want. And he said so himself this was more a partnership than ties of love.” You force yourself to retort in the nicest way possible. “Seonghwa has good intentions and that’s great. But my place in his heart is not something I earned and I’m far from pleased.”

“You rather woo Seonghwa? Then do it, at least, after your wedding.” Yunho charmingly places his chin over your shoulder to face you in the mirror. “This wedding is passed formalities but something he sought good for the both of you. He wants you to feel comfortable and that’s leeway enough to your heart. Accept it as it is and maybe you won’t get shot.”

You hear it so many times, you ponder over thought of maybe wanting to get shot at this point. Why was Seonghwa so prideful? What else was he hiding?

“The day he ever wants to shoot me is the day I end this partnership of his he claims is good for the both of us.”

The trio behind you pause in their movements and let your answer sink in. It’s not everyday they get to see a woman get ready to marry a man they assume to be their best friend. It certainly isn’t every day they get to see a woman as beautiful as you sit in front of them with a personality as fierce as their empty hearted boss. Although they’re intimidated, they feel a particular sense of relief knowing you’re fully aware of your circumstances. They didn’t sign up for meddling in an innocent life though you’re far from innocent.

“We have to meet some of our partners..” San clears his throat as you fumble with the jewelery in your hand. “I’m sure you won’t mind if we leave you with your thoughts for a bit.”

“Not at all.” please.

They hum in response before setting out prompt, your thoughts a little more blind in your head than they think. You look in the mirror after they leave and think to yourself that you’re just a penny of satisfaction. The best way for you to accept all this is to breathe and let it go. It’s gotten you this far.

“I hope I’m not interrupting.” A voice echoes through the slit of the door. “If you haven’t tried killing yourself already.”

Your eyes light up like a child on Christmas Day. “Hongjoong.”

His lips quirk at your tone of admiration. “You look beautiful, babe.”

Your own lips quiver and you’reholding back the years of tears. “Can you hug me please? Just this once?”

He sighs softly before coming over to take you into his arms. The homey embrace of someone you trusted— no someone who trusts you was enough to end some misery. The one thing Seonghwa could grant you that you’d thank him for was this. Hongjoong was far from what you deserve but he’s someone you wished you could have. Life served you another platter and you can’t just complain and ask for a refund.

“Of all the years I’ve known you, y/n, seeing you in a wedding gown would be the last thing I’d ever imagine.”

You roll your eyes at the city mobster before turning in your chair. “I’m surprised he let you imagine let alone show up today.”

Hongjoong presses his lips together and fumbles with his tie. “There’s a lot of things you’d be surprised by.”

You sniffle mostly to undermine all the overwhelming thoughts in your head. Hongjoong sees right through you though.

“I’m sure Seonghwa’s got good intentions. Despite the fact, obviously, I’m not all for the things he does—Beyond what he does, y/n, he’s a good guy.”

You scoff his way, looking elsewhere in your reflection afraid of his words.

“Are you here to patronize the enemy some more or walk me down the aisle?”

He chuckles wholeheartedly, coming over to plant a reassuring kiss on the top of your head. Where your father lacked, Hongjoong picked up. You can’t name a single man— no person on this planet who has made you whole enough as Hongjoong does and maybe why Seonghwa is threatened. Hongjoong is a force no one is reckoned to feel accustomed to. The city monster had ties everywhere. Feeling sorry for your father was one thing; feeling sorry for you was little of what the truth was.

“You are a gem.” He annunciations through a genuine smile. “Be it Seonghwa nor I aren’t lucky to have. You’re a blessing.”

You look into Hongjoong’s eyes with a type of everlasting loyalty you can’t define. “How can you be okay with Seonghwa having me? I was already yours..”

“Your father was mine and I let you have the benefit of the doubt.” His comment sharpens at the end.

“Losing him was nothing but means to end for you. Don’t act like it was more than that.” You try to rebuttal.

“It was something I didn’t like but it sure as hell made you happy. And so I heard.”

Hongjoong’s very casual. He likes to be hands on in a moment and is, trend wise, very different from your future husband. It’s not like you loved Hongjoong romantically or anything. It just felt wrong to need to love someone else that’s all.

“Walk down the aisle.” He whispers again against the crown of your ear, hand hovering over your bare shoulders with hesitance and grace. “I’ll always be right here when you need me the most.”

It’s some misdirection partly. Also partly your fault that you’ve gotten here. Now you’re walking down an aisle with Southside’s very own devil standing at the alter awaiting you. You don’t look back on purpose. That and Hongjoong’s grip right beside is not one on par with a fatherly gesture. Hongjoong probably wanted to wring Seonghwa for what it’s worth too.

“Past formalities?” Hongjoong mumbles when you two get one step closer to the end of your suicide mission.

“Definitely past that.”

“Knock em dead, sweetheart.”

Let the party commence.

There was little shared words between you, your new husband, and the pastor. With what seemed like false devotion and empty promises, the wedding reception began. You two sat together on a podium where it’s pretty obvious Seonghwa’s treated like royalty. You were right in his district and with first impressions comes clear boundaries to be made. He wanted you to know where he stands. You two sat together as husband and wife but complete strangers. It was awkward watching the sight of men come and go to prove that Seonghwa was nothing but a merciless mafia boss. The gifts weren’t even of your benefit either.

Hongjoong left early (something you’ll press against him some other day forward) and you were stuck thinking about when this cursed day was going to end. Somehow someway it did and you were in a car fraternizing with the enemy this time.

“— So you married me instead?”

The air gets thick. It almost gets so thick you think you’re getting some type of allergic reaction to his face in the confinement of his wide vehicle. Staring at him was no gut wrenching eye sore but it’s not something you were used to just yet. Seonghwa’s eyes matched the color of war— red with fury and relent. There was something there that his calm tone didn’t quite express to it’s fullest capability.

“You’d rather be dead?”

His coldness reflected on you. It’s probably your body’s natural mechanism of defense coming to play because you’re sure as hell you’re not gonna let some man control you for the rest of your life. No, you may not get that right to speak up and say something that might as well get you killed but you still aren’t gonna let him walk all over you.

“Are you gonna get out of your dress or did you want me to strip you out of it for you instead?”

His tone persists as he emerges from the bathroom to see you sitting on solemn. You glance up tiredly at the cheeky bastard who’s lips perk at your attention. You look away without a word at all before taking your dress off without further notice.

His throat clams up at the sight, unsure of how long his self constraint would last even for the night. The sight of your broadened narrow shoulders— bare and ready to taste— was something he was definitely not prepared for. His hands tremble as the damp towel between his fingers drops and you glance to look at him.

“Tempted?” You rasp in the most taunting voice you could fabricate. “Mind me, but you asked if I was going to get out of my dress, Seonghwa. I’m showing you that I can follow basic instructions, was that not what you asked of me? Of this partnership.”

He chokes on that, jaw clenched. “Pressing my buttons, honey, is not something I suggest you test.”

You hold your dress up back to your chest as you turn to face him. “I’m just letting you know what kind of wife you gambled to marry, my sweet husband.”

He nearly screams the moment you slam the bathroom door. Not realizing on both sides that either of you were ready to combust. You shower the anger, the resentment away and Seonghwa just lays back on his bed staring at the bathroom door.

He needs to stay away from you at any time possible. Until he learns to control himself at least. Living with a woman, a woman of his absurd dreams, was proving itself difficult. You weren’t just gonna give yourself up to him just like that either.

“Sleep. You have a busy day tomorrow.” Is all he says before turning on his back when you shut the lights off.

You stare at it. Like the night before when he got in bed without even saying a word, feeling cold.

“J-Just me?” You ask propped still on your elbow in the dark.

“I have business to take care of in the city. You’ll have San and Yunho tomorrow.” His voice lulls deeper as he’s getting pulled to his exhaustion. “It’s training you have to endure just in case. Hongjoong informed me you never took part in your father’s extravaganza’s and I need to know my wife is safe while I leave.”

“You want me to learn how to fight?”

“Something like that..”

@atinybitofau

[nerdypanda3126]

City of Love – Ch. 2

Here’s the second chapter of my work for the @lovebugs-and-snakecharmers secret admirer exchange! (Hey, @crescent-woods if I haven’t said it before, I uh... went a little overboard cause your prompt was so amazing!) 

Read on Ao3 

First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Luka was lying down on his bed with his notebook splayed across his thighs as he blared white noise in his headphones and stared at his bedroom ceiling. There was a cobweb in the corner blowing softly in the breeze from their open windows and instead of focusing on writing music he found himself thinking that he’d never even seen the spider that made that web. A shiver ran through him. Blech. Spiders. Missing spiders, especially. 

He was supposed to be working on an original song for his composition class. The professor had given them the assignment over the summer, “to get an idea of where you’re at,” the assignment had read, and for weeks Luka had stared at the blank sheet music and… absolutely nothing came to him. 

Creating wasn’t really the problem; he’d always been creative. He’d always been fond of letting things come to him while his guitar was in his hands, but he’d never tried to write it down. He’d never cared if it was good or not. He’d never tried to create for a grade. He groaned and ripped his earbuds out to toss everything aside and sat up. 

And found Sass leaning into the doorway with his eyebrows raised incredulously. 

“What?” Luka snapped. 

He wasn’t even sure he could call Sass his roommate. He’d barely even seen him for the week he’d been there. Although what he could’ve been doing was beyond Luka. He didn’t know the city, he hadn’t started classes yet, there was nowhere for him to go and nothing for him to do except see his girlfriend. And as far as Luka knew, they hadn’t managed to meet up yet. 

“Rough day?” Sass smirked and walked over to sit down on his flimsy foldaway bed across from Luka. 

Luka wiped a hand over his face and cursed in French under his breath. “What do you want?” 

“Want? Why do I have to want anything? Can’t I ask you how your day is going?” 

“You’ve hardly spoken to me since I picked you up at the airport.” Luka rolled his eyes and flopped back on his bed. “So I doubt you actually care.” 

Sass hummed, in agreement or in thought Luka couldn’t tell. “You need to get out of here.” 

Luka turned his head to look at Sass and quirked an eyebrow. 

“I’m serious, staring at four blank walls, that’s your problem right there. You need to get out, get some air, meet some people.” 

“You’re worse than Juleka,” Luka muttered darkly. “You don’t even know what my problem is.” 

“I know boiling in self-loathing won’t get you anywhere. Lucky for you I have the solution. A night out with me and two amazing women.” He made a wide “voilà” motion with his arms, like he had just finished a stunning magic trick. 

Luka scowled at him, his suspicion growing. “What do you need me for? Two amazing women, just keep them for yourself.” 

“Well, one is for me, but the other…” he raised his eyebrows suggestively. When Luka kept scowling, Sass sighed in defeat. “Okay, fine. Tikki is refusing to meet me unless her host is with her. And she’s insisting I invite you, too.” 

Luka’s scowl split into a smirk. “Oh, so you need a favor, that’s what this is about.” 

“Yes, I need a favor.” When Sass was annoyed, his sibilants drew out into hisses, which amused Luka to no end. Sass rolled his eyes. “So will you come?” 

“What happened to ‘I don’t need you, I don’t need your country, I’m too cool for this shit’?” Luka said, mimicking Sass’s subtle lyrical accent. 

“You don’t have to be an ass about it. Will you come or not?” 

“I absolutely do have to be an ass about it.” Luka grinned and sat up, savoring the way Sass’s scales were getting all ruffled. He could practically see the irritation roiling off his shoulders. “What if I don’t go? What happens then?” 

“Then I tell your sister you’re being an awful host.” Sass’s dark eyes flashed as he bared his teeth in a wicked grin. “And she might decide to come along and make sure you make it up to me.”

Luka’s scowl returned. Sass had him pinned, and he knew it. “Fine. Whatever. I’ll go. But I’m picking the place. If I’m being forced out of the house, I’m at least going somewhere I’ll have fun.”

Sass shrugged and smiled down at his phone as he shot off a text, before he stood and stretched. “It’s settled, then. Let’s go.” 

“What, now?” 

“Yeah, now, what other time would we go?” Sass undid his ponytail and kept the band in his mouth as he redid it, recapturing the strands that had fallen out to frame his face. Now that Luka was looking at him, he was wearing a form-fitting olive green henley that set off his dark features well, along with dark wash jeans and black converse. Not exactly dressed to go out, but definitely dressed for an admiring female gaze. 

He looked down at himself, at the ratty blue hoodie with chewed on strings, pit-stained white band shirt, and knee-less black skinny jeans he was wearing. For the hole in the wall he had in mind, it wouldn’t be out of place, but for meeting “two amazing women,” maybe not the best option. He ran a hand over the dark stubble on his cheek and through his hair he hadn’t even run a brush through today. 

Sass rolled his eyes. “Fine, I’ll meet you out by your bike. 20 minutes, yeah?” He stood and offered his phone to Luka. “Wanna plug in the address?” 

Luka took the phone from him, noting the contact picture of a young woman with a black and red pixie haircut blowing a kiss. Must be Tikki. He shrugged and typed in the name of the club he frequented and the address before he spun it on his palm to hand it back to Sass. 

Sass left without another word and Luka pulled himself up to see if he could figure out what to wear. Not that it mattered; the club would be loud enough that he wouldn’t have to talk to whoever came along anyways. Which made it absolutely perfect. 

***

“He said yes!” Tikki cried as she burst into Marinette’s room and flopped down next to her on the bed, triumphantly shoving her phone into Marinette’s hands. 

“Your boyfriend? Of course he did.” Marinette was smiling as Tikki started chattering away, but her smile disappeared as she scrolled through the text chain. The text chain about meeting up tonight, but only if Marinette came along. Tikki’s insistence that it should be a group outing, that her boyfriend’s host should come along, too, so Marinette wasn’t left alone. 

She gaped at Tikki. “You set me up with someone?” 

“No, no, no,” Tikki rushed to reassure her, taking her phone back and clutching it to her chest, “not a set up! Just… someone to talk to in case I kinda disappear.” 

“Isn’t the point of me coming so that you don’t disappear?” Marinette lifted an eyebrow. 

Tikki’s phone pinged with an incoming message and Tikki’s face scrunched in concentration as she checked it. “He sent me an address and said 20 minutes. Do you know this place?” 

She showed her screen again and Marinette couldn’t help but groan. Not only at the concept of getting ready to go out in 20 minutes, but also at the club name. 

“I’ve been there before. Once. On a date.” 

A date that went horribly wrong. He hadn't said anything about being a famous model, or that the press might be following him, or that he had a fiancée that might see him dancing with her in the papers the next day and might decide to stalk Marinette for the next few months. And when the paparazzi had swarmed the tiny club, he’d gotten startled and spilled her entire bright pink cocktail down the front of her white dress. One of her favorites, too. She frowned at the memory of the fiasco. She hadn’t been back since, and she'd sworn off dating to boot. 

“We don’t have to go, if you don’t want to.” Tikki’s enthusiastic glow visibly dimmed. 

She’d told Marinette a little about the guy she’d been seeing. They’d been long-distance for so long and Paris was halfway for both of them, so they figured they’d meet up, see how it went. Of course that wasn’t the only reason she was there, Tikki had assured Marinette, she’d always wanted to go to Paris. But meeting her boyfriend was definitely part of the plan and Marinette did worry about Tikki being safe. She said she knew him, that they’d been talking forever and she knew what he looked like and he would never hurt her. But it also never hurt to have a backup plan in situations like this. 

Marinette sighed. “Of course we’re going.” She glanced over Tikki’s loose staying-home outfit for the day and smirked. “But not in that. Hang on.” 

Marinette hopped up and ran over to her closet. “I was saving this for a rainy day.” She flicked through her hangers to find it. The perfect little black dress. A deep v-neck that plunged to where the fabric nipped in at the waist, a flirty skirt that floated away and landed gently just above the knee. Tikki would kill in it with her adorable pixie frame. Marinette showed it to her and delighted in the way her eyes lit up. 

“But what about you?” Tikki asked. 

Marinette shrugged. “It’s not really about me, is it?” She grinned and tossed the dress at Tikki before turning back to select a light pink tank top, a gray leather jacket and a pair of distressed skinny jeans. She shrugged as she laid them out on the bed and Tikki frowned. 

“What if you like this guy?” 

Marinette rolled her eyes and bent down to grab a pair of strappy black heels. She raised her eyebrows at Tikki as she added them to the pile. “Et voilà.” 

This time, Tikki grinned and ran off to her room, clutching the dress to her chest. Marinette shook her head. As long as it was a one-time thing, she didn’t mind coming along for the night. Whoever this mysterious guy was, one thing was for sure. He was in the same boat she was. So she’d make nice, for Tikki’s sake, and hope for the best. If she hated him, she’d never have to see him again. If she liked him… 

Well, that was maybe assuming too much.

Translations:

Et voilà: And there it is

[brandywine-tomatoes]

Kyu Sakamoto - an excerpt

Literally just procrastination writing from yesterday. I created 2 badass lesbian ocs for the MCU (mainly Rogers, Barnes, and Wilson's stories) and now I have a 7-page outline...... been in the fandom for 3 days..... ANYWAYS

Masterlist

@icedcoffee101 and @dragon-pups pushed me to write this sad excerpt, so here you go everyone!

TW: sad/depressing thoughts, questioning existence for a hot second, honestly it's just really fucking depressing, but I love it nonetheless.

Word count: 1519

Prompt/Inso: my 7-page outline of badass lesbians that keep an eye on bucky when he's the winter soldier (this excerpt isn't about that tho)

QUICK NOTE: this is during the events of TFATWS, episode 5 I believe? And Grace is mute, so she uses sign language (tho she's only in the flashback). So yeah. Enjoy some sad angst!

--

“Well,” she picked up the leather bag from the chair, holding it up with a smirk. “I brought records.”

Bucky’s resting bitch face turned up into a small smile. The only person with a decent music taste thankfully brought records to Sam’s ‘let’s finally work on this fucking boat’ party with most of the neighbours and people owing favours. Everyone was milling around, fixing whatever they were assigned to fix and laughing in the cool bay breeze.

“I sure hope you have 60s stuff in that huge bag of yours,” he chuckled, walking past her up the dock to bring the record player from the shore. She held the heavy bag with one arm as she unzipped the zipper, an old and dusty smell escaping the inside and showing the spines of dozens of records.

“You pack all those just for us, Ash?” Sarah came up beside her, admiring all the casings.

“I found them stuffed in a closet back in Africa. I thought I’d revisit some old favourites,” she smiled at her.

Bucky and Sam came back down the dock with the record player in tow and an amp, talking with each other about god knows what. They set the gear down on a bench, plugging in the amp. The four of them dug into the bag, each of them taking out 2 or 3 records each to examine.

“Damn, you really like your slow songs, huh?” Sam spoke up, showing her the record covers in his hands were indeed black and white photos and words she didn’t understand.

She smiled brightly. “Yup! The 60s were the times of slow songs, the best ones.”

“I full-heartedly agree,” Bucky laughed. He slid a perfect disk out its paper cover and carefully placed it on the spindle, sliding over the needle to the first song ridge.

“I hope you picked something upbeat,” Sarah said.

The music flooded through the amp, the old-sounding and staticy bass vibrating through the deck and resonated in everyone’s hearts. People started taking their wives and husbands and kids to dance to the seemingly upbeat song.

Sasha just stared wide-eyed at the spinning disk, a long shoved down lump of unshed sobs pushing up her throat.

--

‘We don’t have anywhere else to go, we have the papers, and we have the rings,’ Grace signed quickly, pulling Sasha through the doorway gently and resting her hands on her waist, Sasha’s hands instinctively moving to behind her neck.

“All we need is a song, Graceless,” she smiled softly, mesmerized by her new wife’s radiating happiness and her beautiful smile that could seemingly never be darkened. The white curtains blew gently in front of the open window by their records, the moon's soft glow flooding the hardwood floors the only light they needed.

She nodded in return. Grace pulled away and walked to their stack of brand-new records, picking the one off the top and putting the needle of the travel-sized player on the first song.

‘We better thank him for his demos,’ Grace signed, then extended a hand to her wife. Sasha smiled so brightly as she took it.

“The neighbours will have a fit, it’s 3 o’clock in the morning,” Sasha whispered, putting her chin on Grace’s shoulder and started swaying slowly with one hand lightly holding Grace’s and another around her arm.

‘Doesn’t matter,’ Grace tapped on her shoulder in a familiar rhythm.

She sighed in contentment. Why couldn’t every day be like this, nothing to worry about other than what song to choose, no people to run after, no running from Hydra. Just the soft blowing of curtains and Kyu Sakamoto on their travel record player.

“If you say so, Ana.”

--

“Ash, you alright? You look like you’re about to cry,” Sarah laughed awkwardly and put a hand on Sasha’s shoulder, bringing her back from her wedding night. The others started to notice the reddening of her eyes and the shaking of her hands.

She walked away from the 3 of them, vaguely registering someone's failed attempt at reaching out to grab her wrist.

She couldn’t cry here, not in front of people she didn’t know and wouldn’t understand. She picked up the pace, the dammed river behind her eyes becoming unbearable to keep holding up. Soon enough she was running up the green hill leading to Sam’s house with no intention of stopping until she was with the love of her life again. Running might get her there, it might get her back in her arms, swaying softly to Kyu Sakamoto back in Africa.

She ran across the street of the empty house, bursting through the green forest and didn’t stop. The stray tears escaping her eyes were pushed past her face from the wind, clouding her eyesight.

--

“What was that?” Sarah asking, concern evident on her face.

Bucky sighed in realization of what he did. He dropped his face into his hands groaning. “Shit.”

“What-”

He started walking up the dock to make up for lost time. He shouted back to his friends, “It’s her god damn wedding song.”

“Oh shit,” Sam whispered. He didn’t know much about Sasha or her history, but he remembers her and her deceased wife, how much they loved each other. He couldn’t even begin to imagine what force would be able to pull them apart. They were both super-soldiers, they lived longer than Bucky or Steve had, they had more than half a century of camaraderie. She was off the grid for 7 years after her death. “Oh shit.”

“I didn’t know Sasha’s married,” Sarah tried to lighten the mood.

“It’s a long story.”

--

When Sasha finally collapsed in the dense forest, the light shining through the trees dimmed and turned the colour of the orange clouds above. Little streaks of light escaped the canopy and left little spots of highlighted roots or fallen leaves. Grace would try to step in every streak of light, sign that Sasha should help her find all the new tree sprouts and clear the leaves from around it to give it a fighting chance at survival.

She kneeled in the dirt beside an old and tall tree, the fabric of her jeans digging into the soft earth and the moisture seeping across her knees. The first sob she let go made her feel so weak and helpless, like a wounded puppy trying to fight its way off the streets. After that, she only thought of Grace coming up behind and hugging the life out of her, trying to make her feel as safe as possible. But she’d never feel the bone-crushing safety again, only the hollow and emptiness of her evaporated shadow.

She cried and sobbed and spread her tears around her face well into the darkness of night with only the moon to watch in pity. The sleeves of her white crew neck were dried with snot and dirt and pieces of bark from the tree she was leaning on. It was only a dent, a chip off the sorrow she felt, and it didn’t make her feel any better. Nothing would make her feel better.

Her legs were numb under her body, prickling like hundreds of needles were puncturing her skin. Her hands were rested in the dirt, fiddling with dried chucks as she stared out an open spot in the canopy. It was a clear night, a couple stars blinked back at her tired and puffy red eyes.

She was in the middle of thinking that sinking into the old tree supporting her side would solve her problems when the sound of leaves crunching beneath footsteps came closer and closer and eventually stopped just off to the side of her.

“I’m sorry, Sasha,” Bucky’s words were genuine. She stayed silent, grimacing at the change of sound. “I wasn’t thinking.”

She turned her head to look at him, a frown etched in his face as he took in the sight of how small she looked, how the whites of her eyes were clearly bloodshot, even visibly in the silver light.

“I hope you never find someone that makes you feel this way,” her voice was beyond strained and wavered at every word.

“Sasha-”

“Her real name was Anastasia, like the Grand Duchess. After Hydra tried to burn the warehouse down, we assumed other names,” she looked back to the canopy. “It meant resurrection.”

“Look-”

“I’m not coming back, James. This country has her blood smeared on its soil and I’ll never be able to forgive it.”

Bucky was surprised, to say the least. “We need you here, Sasha.”

She turned a cold and raging glare at him. “We helped you enough. We spent decades helping you. I’m done.”

She had a hard time using her numb legs to get up and the tree's roots around her didn’t help either. Bucky held out a hand for her to take. A last helping move before she left. He knew he wouldn't be able to talk her out of it.

She gripped his flesh hand tightly and hoisted herself up, steadying herself and shaking the blood back into her limbs. She nodded at his darkened face.

“Goodbye, James Barnes.”

--

A/N: WAS THAT SAD OR WHAT?! I teared up a couple times writing this, ngl. If y'all find this interesting, let me know! I need the motivation to write the real fic with Grace and Sasha alive, Sasha isn't always deep in a depressive state with Grace dead.

ANYWAYS! Go drink some water, go have a snack, take a break, you deserve it so much, I'm so proud of you for getting this far!! ❤️❤️

(The nickname 'Graceless' came from my friend Shae and her friend on Insta 💕💕)

[starcrossedyanderes]

(Rygel Reboot) Day 5: Three Wise Men

You guys clearly did not like Rygel and so I listened. He has been completely and utterly rebooted but admittedly still has a few of the same personality traits. Other than that, a complete rebrand. His looks are different as well considering I have another OC with white hair now as well. I’ve been waiting for a while and decided there isn’t a better time. 

This piece is heavily inspired on many alien tropes but specifically the cult classic cartoon “Invader Zim” and some inspiration comes from the hit indie game “Among Us”. Also I was inspired by one character that was important in like one episode of “Batman Beyond” if you know, you know.

Also Rygel may or may not have darker skin..

(Please keep in mind Rygel is literally alien. This is not to say anythting about people who skin are of the similar color. I just honestly thought with the character design implements I was changing that darker skin would fit better with his hair color. Also I figured it was about time I brought in some diversity.)

Summer glow ups were a somewhat common thing in high school but main did it make people jealous.

Some of the shortest people in the world leave school 3 months and all of the sudden they’re towering over Lebron James.

It happens.

But you had never seen a case as extreme as Rygel’s.

Rygel was a regular run of the mill student. He was smart you guess. He had a relatively okay voice and seemed to be of Caribbean descent with a slight darker skin tone than most Caucasians.

He got bullied a bit you supposed. He had braces for a tiny bit but pretty much went unnoticed, off the radar.

He was a regular, run of the mill kid. The most interesting thing about him is his name you supposed. It was apparently of Filipino descent based off the internet so your guess was that he was from one of the more island or polynesian based countries.

You knew him okay enough. You would pass by and say hi and that’s pretty much it.

But then Summer was over and he came back.

He used to be of average height but now he’s more so towering of a good bit of people. He seems even taller now that he walks with more confidence and with larger strides.

It seemed with puberty his body has produced more melanin which has caused his skin to darken more along with probably the sun he got over summer vacation.

His voice deepened a bit and had a slight bit more of an accent that somewhat reminded you of British although it didn’t exactly sound like any singular accent.

He seemed to have gained a lot more knowledge and his hair also seemed to grow a good bit along with his body becoming much more lean. His face lost fat and he seems to now have been born naturally with a highlight on his cheekbones.

His eyes that were once a basic brown sort of hazel color have now seemed to liquify into that of gold.

But the weirdest part of all is hair is now a deep purple color instead of the basic brown he had before. 

As you could imagine his popularity intensely spiked along with his grades. 

He also seemed to be a lot more prudish and generally stuck up. He could commonly be seen scoffing as a response. He also just seemed overall much more charming and a lot more sociable than previously which is quite the leap and bound.

You honestly couldn’t care in the least as you just wanted to finish with your last years of high school but some of your acquaintances did not want the same.

Whenever a nobody suddenly becomes a somebody people can become rather jealous and determined to bring a person down or find out the ‘secret’. And some of your acquantinces wanted just that.

The 3 main culprits could simply not believe that a nobody like Rygel over the course of less than 3 months become so different. And their main piece of evidence was his hair.

“He can’t be natural! It is physically impossible for any human to naturally get purple hair!”

You took a break from your sloppy joe.

“Why does it matter?”

Your friend, Mel, gaped like a fish as his mouth constantly kept opening and closing.

“Why does it matter? Why does it matter? Why wouldn’t it matter!? Something isn’t right here (Y/n).”

Mel’s other 2 members in the self dubbed Rygel Conspiracy Club, and friends, Caspar and Bal (it’s a nickname) spoke up as well.

“Look, I was looking over the evidence and some pictures of him during the Summer and notice that throughtout these pictures he just didn’t suddenly have completely purple hair. You can see it starting at the roots and slowly growing a stronger color and slowly spreading downwards! Who dies their roots first? That has to mean his hair is actually growing that color!”

Bal spoke up this time,

“Also there’s rumors about some shady events involving him. Cathy told me she saw a book by him move on its own. But it moved on the table towards him where he nonchalantly picked it up,”

You just gave them the “really” stare.

“There’s plenty of reasons why I guy would dye their roots first. My dad did because he started graying at a really early age. That could be the case for Rygel. Also if he is graying a lot of older women with grey or white hair commonly dye their hair fun colors. He might have been wanting to dye his hair for a while but never wanted to bleach it so he took it in stride. 

Also he might have just made the book slide or asked someone to slide it over to him. You guys are just jealous and need something to complain about cause one of your insane conspiracies got busted.”

You then  got up to dispose of your lunch scraps but held onto your empty little box of milk to wash out in the sink. As you walked back for your bag and headed towards bio you decided to ignore Rygel’s golden eyes watching you.

And I think that’s it for this episode of Dragonball Z. At least enough for the reboot at the latest. Hopefully you will all be inclined to request for him more. Also I haven’t gotten any ideas from you guys from the Christmas Prompts with N/A so when I get to one where I don’t have an idea it will simply be scrapped. Thank you and I hope I did all of you good.

[sero-sphere]

Writing Prompt : Serial Killer Tomura Shigaraki

listen so i know its been awhile. alot of things happened. i got a new job, my computer broke, my computer got fixed....bnha season 4 ended. Tiger King was a thing, and obviously quarantine.

also sorry this is what i decided to post first. youve all been warned!

Prompt: a serial killer who finds their victims through dating apps has finally chosen their next target. they've been texting for a while and had planned what would've been a fatal first date, but then the country went on lockdown. the killer keeps in touch figuring they might as well keep around another potential victim except...they’re kinda starting to like this one.

(Serial killer Tomura x f reader)

Warnings: murder, non-con everything? , mention of rape? idk its bad he kills people. maybe a little hybristophilia if you look real close.�� (pls just remember none of this is real and proceed with caution....thnks)

1 week before quarantine:

It had only been three days since you re-downloaded tinder off of a whim. There had been some pretty interesting matches up until this point, but you were flip flopping between two guys mainly. One was tall with dark hair. He was covered in burns that only seemed to add to his allure. He was hot, figuratively and literally. The other was another kind of mystery all together. He had denied all your requests for any more pictures of himself. He obviously had the standard few shown in his bio, but those were mostly all body pics. It’s not like he was even that big, his muscles were no doubt toned as anything, but, like the first boy, he was littered in scars that intrigued you. The chemistry the two of you shared seemed stronger in your opinion than with the first. You were dying to see him in person, after all you had only been able to see so much during your facetime calls.

After some time, you finally narrowed it down. You decided to take a risk and go with what was behind door number 2. Tomura Shigaraki.

 1 day before quarantine:

After a few days of chatting, the two of you had teased each other so much you couldn’t stand it anymore. You were just dying for him to ask to see you in person. You and your friends had stopped going to the clubs recently, and you just hoped your now empty schedule would line up with his at some point this week. Everyone around you was getting sicker and sicker so the club was definitely a no go for now. Plus, with the way you looked, it might be a bit dangerous. Still, you hoped to play your cards just right, and finally get him to give in. You decided a little impromptu face time session was the next step. Removing your sweatshirt, leaving you in only a tank top, you grabbed your phone.

-----------------------------------------    ≧◠‿◠≦✌    -----------------------------------------

Halfway through the call you were starting to tune him out when you heard him snap at you. “What are you paying attention to? Those eyes should be on me.”

Bashfully, you turned back to your phone. “Sorry, I mean, have you seen the news? Not only do they talk about the virus 24/7, they also talk about those murders all the time.”

“Oh…yeah?” He hardened slightly at the unintended mention of him.

“Yeah, I mean if the virus doesn’t take me out…I’m pretty sure this guy might. All the victims look almost exactly like me.”

He really was a sucker for your innocence. “Oh, I guess he must have a type...”

“Yeah it’s quite interesting.” Your eyes flicked up to your screen, then back to the T.V

“Interesting?” Shigaraki was genuinely confused.

Returning your gaze to your phone, you finally answered him. “Yeah I think so, why you don’t?”

Interesting was the last thing people called him. Freak, psycho, yeah, but interesting? “I’m not sure…why, are you interested in him?”

“Well, you just said he has a type…I just wonder what it is about girls like me that make him go crazy….I bet you he has mommy issues!” You said with a giggle.

“Hah, mommy issues…”

“Either that or he’s got one of those weird brother sister relationships…maybe if I pretend he’d let me live.” You moaned slightly into the speaker. “Oh, oniichan~”

He coughed to stop himself from moaning. “Maybe it’s a bit of both.” Admittedly you did look like his mom and sister. More similar to which, was the real question.

“Oh, you think?… Who doesn’t have family issues these days….”

He was silent as you continued to theorize about him unknowingly.  He couldn’t stop himself from asking “What would you say to him, ya know? You said you look like his victims…haven’t you thought about if it was to happen to you?”

“Hmm….. I guess I’d ask him why?”

“Why what?”

“Why kill them? Like I wonder what happened in his life for him to be able to do something like that?”

“That’s what you would say? Not scream for help?” All of his past victims screamed, God he hated that. That’s why he ended up shoving his cock down their throats half the time. Anything to get them to shut up.

“If I’m going to die anyway why not take the opportunity to get to know him a little. Might sound morbid, but he doesn’t let people get away.”

“Seems like you know a lot about this guy?” He asked probingly.

“I’ve been curious, nothing really going on in the world other than this virus...”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

1 week into quarantine:

After that conversation Tomura became intrigued as to what you would think when you finally realized who he was. If you would really be brave enough to ask him ‘why’, right before he decided to take your life.  He was looking forward to the day you would finally agree to leave your house again. You were in the middle of a global pandemic after all. Until then, he had his ways of continuing his mission.

He started by hacking into the local hospital records. Truth be told he wasn’t ready to die, or be caught yet, so every week he would hack away for the names of the women who had recently been tested, and were found to be negative for the virus. He then sifted through their social media for girls that fit his profile. There weren’t too many, and he had to settle for a few that were a bit out of his age range.

A few weeks went by, the two of you keeping in touch every night. Tomura still finding suitable replacements until you were finally in his grasps. He didn’t want to give himself away by dragging you out, there were no excuses he could even think of at this point. It was better to wait, at least that’s what he kept telling himself.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

3 weeks into quarantine:

“Victim? Victim, honey you’re my fifth one….”

After the deed was done, and he was just about to head out of there, Shigarakis phone started to ring. He was going to ignore it at first until he saw it was you.  It was rather unusual for you to call this early. You both kept to a strictly late night schedule. Curiosity got the better of him.

“Hey…” He answered, huffing into the phone. He was ashamedly out of breath after everything that just transpired.

“Oh hey, I didn’t think you were going to answer.”

“Well. I did…so what’s up?”

“Why do you sound so out of breath? What were you jerking off…” You said teasingly.

“No, I was about to though…” He wasn’t lying, he usually goes home to finish himself. Maybe now was the chance to take a little risk.

“Wanna help me get there?” Yup, he was doing this.

“Yeah, of course I do.” You replied, unaware of what the person on the other end of the phone was really about to do.

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3 weeks and 2 days into quarantine:

“Hey Tomu, you hear about what the killer left behind this time?” You all but nearly shouted, as soon as Shigaraki accepted your facetime call.

“Hmm, what was it?” If he had to take a guess, he bet he could figure out what it was.

“He came all over her face, he’s never done that before!…do you think he killed her before or after?”

“Probably before…” Probably? Yeah right, he knew for a fact he killed her before your little call to him.

“Yeah you’re probably right. They said this one was a bit older, I wonder if that helped him out more…ya’ know cause his supposed mommy issues.”

“Somehow I don’t think that’s the case…”

He couldn’t really tell you it was you, who indeed got him there. Staring at that body that somewhat resembled you, while you were saying all those things to him. He really couldn’t wait to have you. He usually wasn’t a man of patience, so he couldn’t figure out why he hasn’t actually killed you yet. He kept making up excuses but deep down, he knew he was growing quite fond of you. He couldn’t help that you were stroking his ego every time he did something riskier and you would comment on it.  

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4 weeks into quarantine:

 The last girl was different. They no longer felt right to him. He knew he had to have you. He wondered if he would miss you after it was done. Was he going to fuck you before or after? You weren’t going to be alive to theorize with him afterwards, that made him a little sad. He picked up his phone and shot you a text.