#inspired by i’ll tabletop you any day!

[intheticklecloset]

3 AM (Bungo Stray Dogs)

Primary Universe

Summary: After a late night out, Chuuya helps Dazai back to his place to sleep. Unfortunately, Dazai has other ideas.

A/N: The initial idea for this fic was inspired by this AMV (there are SO many good BSD AMVs, btw!). I of course put a tickly spin on it because that's what I do. Enjoy!

Word Count: 973

~~~

Nothing good ever happened after 3 A.M.

Chuuya grunted as he and Dazai stumbled through his front door, no thanks to the detective, who was so drunk he could barely stand upright. “Lightweight,” he muttered, tossing his keys into the bowl by the door and kicking it shut behind them. He fumbled for the light switch.

“Oww, Chuuya,” Dazai whined, nearly toppling over as he tried to shield his eyes from the soft yellow glow.

“Stop being a baby. I’m putting you to bed.”

“Ooh, I must have been a good boy this year~”

“Shut up! Not like that, you idiot. Come on.” Chuuya angled them so they were headed toward his bedroom.

“Chuuya’s dragging me to bed,” Dazai sang drunkenly, giggling a little as he stumbled across the carpet, over the threshold, and toward the surprisingly simple twin bed that Chuuya rarely had time to actually enjoy thanks to his work.

The redhead wrestled Dazai around so he was sitting on the mattress, swaying a little. “You forgot to take your shoes off, moron.” He leaned down to do it for him, but the next thing he knew arms were wrapped around him and he was being yanked off his feet, lying staring up at the ceiling with Dazai’s body beneath him. “Asshole! Let me go; you’re so drunk I don’t know how you aren’t dead already.”

“Chuuya’s grumpy,” Dazai hummed, snuggling his face into the redhead’s neck and hugging him closer, digging his fingertips into his partner’s ribs. “Grumpy, grumpy Chuuya~”

The redhead froze, eyes flying wide open. The touch was gentle, but it didn’t matter; Chuuya was ticklish enough that even that much was enough to do the job. He squeaked, biting his lip hard to keep from giggling like a little girl, thrashing in his drunken boyfriend’s grip. “I-Idiot! Don’t touch me! Let me go!”

Dazai giggled for the both of them, switching from digging to random poking, like he was drumming his fingers on a tabletop out of boredom. Chuuya hated that it tickled so bad.

“Dazai!” he cried, trying and failing to get away. He managed to fall off of the detective’s body onto the mattress, but as soon as he had a momentary glimpse of freedom Dazai was on him, rolling over so he was pinning him awkwardly to the bed, fingers poking and pinching along his ribs. Chuuya snorted. “Shihihit! Dazahahahai! Quit it!”

“Grumpy, grumpy Chuuya needs to learn to smile more,” Dazai slurred.

“Asshohohohole! I’ll kihihihill you! Let me go!”

“No can do, Chuuuuya~”

Chuuya would deny the scream that left his lips until the day he died once his infuriating partner found the spot at the top of his ribs that drove him up the wall, forcing loud, desperate cackles out of him whether he liked it or not. “AHAHAHA!! DAZAHAHAHAI!!”

Dazai giggled again, fingers flying across his ribs, up and down like he was playing a xylophone. “Tickle, tickle, little chibi~”

“Dazai!” Chuuya wheezed, fisting the comforter on his bed into one hand while frantically trying to punch any part of his boyfriend that he could with the other. “Stahahahahap it! I dohohohohon’t like being tihihihihickled!”

For a brief moment, everything stopped. Chuuya gasped for breath while he could, trying to shove Dazai away, hoping his strength would be greater since he wasn’t the one who was drunk enough to pass out at any moment.

“You don’t?” Dazai asked, sounding genuinely surprised, standing up of his own free will and toppling sideways onto the bed so he was looking the redhead in the eye – kind of.

Chuuya flushed at the question. “No.”

The detective observed him for a moment, eyes bleary yet trained hard on his partner. He hummed after a while, flopping onto his back with a sigh. “Then why do you look so disappointed that I stopped?”

“Idiot,” Chuuya grumbled, jumping onto his waist and digging into his hips, smirking at the too-loud squeal of delight Dazai let free. “You’re the one who’s disappointed I wasn’t tickling you back until just now.”

“Ehehehehehehe!” Dazai laughed with such childlike glee that it made Chuuya blush for the both of them, though he kept tickling anyway, fingers flying from his hips to his belly to his neck and even into his underarms, which made the detective shriek so loudly the redhead had to stop lest they wake up the neighbors.

“Okay, dumbass. Take your shoes off and go to sleep, all right? It’s almost four in the morning—”

Dazai grabbed his waist and rolled them over so he was on top again so fast Chuuya got whiplash, but he didn’t have time to worry about that since his ribs were being played like a piano again, this time without the benefit of being able to hide his face or muffle his sounds at all, staring up into Dazai’s eager grin as he was.

“Ahahahahaha! Whahahahahat did I just tehehehehell you, you bahahahastard?! I dohohohon’t lihihihihike it! Lemme gohohohohoho!”

“That’s what you said,” Dazai agreed, flopping down so his entire body weight was pinning Chuuya in place, his chin nestled into his boyfriend’s neck so his ear was as close to Chuuya’s laughing mouth as possible, fingers still digging with an expertise that was absolutely unfair for a drunk person. “But I think you were lying.”

Chuuya raged and fought as much as he could, but it soon became apparent that he wasn’t going anywhere until Dazai was either satisfied or passed out from his alcohol intake, and so – laughing up a storm and letting out embarrassing squeals and snorts – the redhead let himself go limp and accept his ticklish fate, color staining his cheeks as he submitted to the playful torture.

It wasn’t like Dazai would remember any of this in the morning, anyway.

He never remembered anything after 3 A.M.

#fanfiction #tickle fic #bungo stray dogs #bsd #chuuya nakahara #dazai osamu #soukoku #ssk #playful #tickling #ticklish #tickle

[theresattrpgforthat]

Hello! I have two (separate) genres im interested in recs for, if youve got them (though combined would be fascinating tbh): Horror and farming sim-like ttrpgs. Horror im sure is fairly common, just not in my circles (which are adventure fantasy based); farming sim though seems like it may be rarer? for that id be interested in either solo or with 2+ people

Theme: Horror Games

Hello friend, I’m going to let one of my older posts do some of the heavy lifting, and point you towards the Small Town Farming collection I put up back in 2022.

You are absolutely right that Horror is much easier to recommend, but I’ll also try and put some quick recs for solo-farming type games at the bottom of this post.

1978: The Night They Came Home, by World Champ Game Co.

1978: The Night THEY Came Home is a 1-2 player horror roleplaying game telling the story of a fateful showdown between Survivor (a clever and resilient person caught up in horrifying circumstances) and Slasher (a legendary force of evil). Using a deck of poker cards, dual rule books, varied resources, and shared play space, players will recount the events of a forsaken Halloween, zooming closer into the haunting folklore of a small Midwestern town and its inhabitants, and culminating in a violent battle for survival.

Here is a game for solo gamers and folks who want a more intimate experience. If you’re a fan of Friday the 13th, this is probably in your wheelhouse! 1978 has a win condition, meaning that either the Survivor or the Slasher will come away as the victor, and the fact that this is also a game that depends on a deck of cards means that I think this might also be a good game for folks who also enjoy card games and board games.

Vast Grimm, by Infinite Black.

EACH MISERABLE DAY THAT PASSES, THE UNIVERSE INCHES CLOSER TO ITS INEVITABLE DEMISE.

Vast Grimm is a stand-alone, art-filled, punk-fueled OSR role-playing game about the few humans remaining in a universe being consumed by growing parasitic würms.

Are you a MAnchiNe ravaged by war, pieced together with remnants of bots and the little flesh left of your body? Maybe you're a twisted biochemist shoving needles into your arms in hopes that this next fix will be the one that saves you and what’s left of humanity? Or perhaps you are a soul survivor, like a cockroach, doing whatever is necessary to stay alive even if it means the rest of your Legion must perish.

This is a game about survival, no matter how gruesome things get, humanity must survive.

If you’ve heard of MÖRK BORG and thought it was cool, and if you want the same kind of energy but in a sci-fi future full of mutant animals and horrific parasites, then you might want to check out Vast Grimm. Your characters will have to ration food, energy and ammo in an unending battle against the worms. This game looks to have a large amount of support, from expanded content, to a number of adventures, to an online character generator. For over-the-top violence, plenty of alien goo, and shambling pathetic characters that look like they might fall apart at any moment, try out Vast Grimm.

The Lost Bay, by IKO.

What Is The Lost Bay? The Lost Bay is a Suburban Gothic tabletop RPG se199X. The Lost Bay is also the name of the setting where the game takes place: a coastal suburb inspired by films and media from the 80s and 90s. In it you play as a young person touched by the Weird, an ancient force that gives you supernatural powers. You roam the Bay with your gang, its malls, arcade games shops, skateparks and beaches, and fight the Horror that has awakened.

The Lost Bay is a game for folks who like their horror drenched in 90’s nostalgia. Characters are archetypal, and each one comes with special powers. Using your powers is exciting and effective, but also brings you closer to Scars, horrible truths about the world around you that will irrevocably change your hometown.

The Lost Bay is great for planning heists, rescuing friends, and trying to get out of dodge when the going gets rough. It’s not about fighting your way out, but more about trying to keep you and your loved ones safe. A lot of game designers have had a riot putting together adventures for this game, which you can check out in this game jam. The link above is for the Kickstarter, but in case you see this game after the campaign finishes, you can also check the game out on Itch.

Flyover Country, by Headstone Hills.

Fields of wheat and corn ripple in the wind, hungry eyes peering out between the stalks. Billboards along the road advertise strange and dangerous attractions. Smiles are too wide, manners too polite, secrets buried too deep. The neon light of a diner glows in the distance, but you may never reach its doors. An empty highway stretches out to the horizon, then wraps back in around itself. This is Flyover Country.

Flyover Country is a Midwest road-tripping horror role-playing game for 4-6 players: one gamemaster, or Watcher, and 3-5 players, or Drifters. It is designed to be played in one setting and without prep. It only requires paper, writing utensils, and a tarot deck.

This is a great option for a group where the GM is uneasy about doing a lot of prep. While one person acts as the Watcher, much of the events in this game are simply generated by drawing tarot cards from a deck. Characters will also draw from the Major Arcana to determine what their secret is - and what special ability it has given them. This is a game of hidden information, and grinding your characters down towards a tragic or grisly end.

Gravemire, by Clawhammer Games.

Gravemire is a tabletop roleplaying game about death, growth, horror, and survival, based in an original mechanical framework and set in the churning waters of the Louisiana bayou circa 1894. Players slip into the roles of outsiders arriving in the town of Scarstone, a rural outpost that has been warped by a terrible transformation known as the Convulsion. Once, Scarstone was surrounded by similar towns. The Bayou once had an end. Now, unknowable numbers of horrors seep through the uncharted backwaters, strange magic contorts reality to its whims, and the settlements that called Scarstone their neighbour jut half-ruined from the mire like bones from a wound. Times have changed.

Gravemire is a pretty brutal game, not afraid to kill your character and steal their soul. The town of Scarstone is a trap; your characters wandered in one day through curiosity or the desire for adventure, but leaving the town isn’t nearly as easy. Characters are built using a point-buy system, and as you play you may acquire more skill - but you will also acquire Aversions, which sap your Willpower and inhibit your ability to muster through the worst of what the game can throw at you.

If you want to check out an abbreviated version of the game, you can check out the Kickstarter playkit here.

Under the Autumn Strangely, by Graham Gentz.

"Under the Autumn Strangely" is a storytelling game of pastoral horror priming with anachronistic Americana set in a land that Never Was.

Inspired by "Over the Garden Wall" created by Patrick McHale, players collaboratively create a world uncanny and old. Codify and encourage tonal clash as the Three Roles meld whimsy, autumnal melancholy, and dread.

Take a wrong turn on a dusty road. Follow the sign past the red barn with peeling paint. Doubt your senses.

Get a little lost.

Welcome to the Never Was.

From what I understand about this game, it works best with three players, as there are three roles that the participants are expected to embody. One person plays the Arcadian, who embodies the landscape and setting. One person plays the Traveller, who acts as a “main” character. One person plays the Terror, which grows to dominate the story. Each role can only add to to one role’s suggestions, and can only deny the other’s. If you want to mix your horror with nostalgia and a romanticized vision of the rural USA, you might want to check out Under the Autumn Strangely.

The Facility, by Galen Pejeu.

You awaken, cold and in the dark. Fumbling around by low blue lights in a coffin shaped pod. You pull yourself out of the box, and in the dark see the faces of others. You are all wearing loose fitting white clothing and laceless shoes. Hospital patients? 

You peer into the dark, seeing little but hearing the sound of dripping, running water and distant machinery. You gather what you can, knowing that something is hunting you. It will be here soon.

Wait.

Can you remember who you are?

The Facility is a game for any number of players, taking on the role of ordinary people, stripped of their memories and trapped in a hostile and insane labyrinth of machines and interdimensional weirdness.

The Facility places your crew into an unknown place full of machines that want to kill you. It’s great for high-action scenes, and since your characters have lost their memories, I think the struggle to find pieces of who you are (or were) is a great way to zoom in and make the horror personal. The game is Breathless, so expect your character’s gear and/or abilities to slowly wear down over time, and for the staked to get bigger every time you pause to try and re-stock. If you want a science-fiction twist to your horror game, check out The Facility.

You Should Also Check Out...

My Shudders Rec Post

The Curse of the House of Rookwood, by Nerdy Pup Games.

Nature, Town, Farm, Villagers, by CardboardHyperfix.

Weeds in the Waste, by Meghan Cross

The Wandering Tea Garden, by AP.

Green Thumb, by Curious Frog.

The Bonsai Diary, by Sticky Doodler.

Iron Valley, by M.Kirin.

#tabletop games #indie ttrpgs #game recommendations #dnd #asks #indie ttrpg #horror

[captainkurosolaire]

Update / Valentiones

Just wanna throw-down some appreciation and update on some stuff still plan on tackling this year. Although early this still implies for Valentiones. “Love ye all, have a terrific hearty day.  Should you feel cast aside, leave that t’ me to debunk it. Cause I’ll polish and give you a reason to rewrite that by finding you, picking you up, dusting it off. – You’re f*cking valuable, every single passing Sun t’ Moon, not even I can determinate it, no scale could justifiably do it. Don’t let any foul scallywags tell you otherwise. I’ll handle em’ You focus on shining eruptive, dazzle chaotically! I see you and I am thanking you fer existing, otherwise, I’d be out of business as a pirate, what’s the point of being one if I can’t discover my treasures cross these bland planes?” - CKS

Achieved a decent-chunk of chapters already with my goal this year to be like 60, think I'm almost at 20 this early-in. More than I expected. Thanks for all the energy and power, from low to high. Still got probably 800-1000 chapters I need to realistically create, I get why One-Piece how it is. Once you get real passion for your art, there's an overabundance of stories to further write. xD I most certainly will be around chipping at pieces. In my case, I've always continued for the company that's been on this crazy voyage with me, for always welcoming or being there after long-breaks to RP partners who's integrated or pre-established stuff with me to join in. To my Best Friend/Roomie for always shooting inspiring ideas, always been able to easily click from being nerds who made so many D&D and Tabletop sessions we went to make our own whole world-building and tabletop game. Was pretty dope, but now I'm taking all that same, rich-passion and throwing it to world-build here. I got all the people to credit, I started from here on the community with too that matured and nurtured my character who allowed a very vanilla starting character, to morph into something that I could eventually give deep respect to continue. There's ton's of people and fellows who came from Tumblr as well, that were either forced to give up, or brought down by anon's, all those who suddenly disappeared, couldn't because time-commitments, or became distant, I've kept ingrained in me and I stay ever vigilantly passion in their stead. I overflow like a flowing fountain and multiply for all their sake to continue onward, and the lurkers, all the people who came to me saying they got inspired to join this fandom, all that you've made a impact, difference on me, and make no mistake about it, you matter. I carry your spirit, energy all with everything I endeavor. It's meant a life-changing amount to me have a place to just unleash myself. No better way to say it but -- I LIVE for this shit. So even no matter how infested this site becomes, or when the p*rnbots take over and I have to somehow try to convince them to start up a brothel and least take up RP, I'll still wage on. I may and most definitely die alone at the end. But baby I didn't live like that one-bit or felt like that at-all, I've lived millions.--- Update --- I'm determined to be more regular about this stuff yearly, I've collected so It can get done. I literally think I'll be at this point writing for the next two FF MMO's at this point if I don't start now. For now though, got about two-chapters left in me to do hopefully before February ends. Then I'll probably take a mini-break. I'm thinking about having or seeing if people will send a single, -word- to me in my submission box, and create my own prompt's judged upon that way. Overall, I never-mind getting anything asked or submitted anytime either while, I'm throwing it out. But this way lets people get involved, and I can use my over abundance of characters and try to create-weave a story within the mood or perimeter I need to tell, but I don't have to follow my story-path. Words submitted can be just about anything. Either I can mention you when I do a post with your submission, or you can go on anon for it. Even if no one's down for that stuff, It's all chill. Cause I'm dedicated and determined to do this stuff regardless, whenever I'm around. xD I eventually will take the XIVWrite again too, but I want to do that after a lot of progression or absolutely, my last-rodeo, or its. I've got to establish a lot of Captain's Crewmates, NPCS, I'm even doing slow-burn and building up other antagonists, I got relics, cultures, isle world building, continue thinking of just a mountain of arcs. I really want to get to my sport-arc. After these next two-chapters or so, I'm going to start timeline jumping all over the place. When I'm energized. Anyways that's it, also If need a Valentione's I got ye my hearty, I take no issue in being a rebound. 😎💛

#Update #Valentiones #Big love t' ye all #Your hearts deserve to soar everyday

[yeehawbvby]

Damn i really didn't think about ever spiraling back into my pokémon hyperfixation like this, at least not this deep, but your posts are birthing blorbos to haunt my every waking moment. So. *cocks gun* i need some uhhh milo headcanons for a uhh friend (the friend is me being down bad for him) (obviously joking pls there's only a watergun involved) (your pokemon stuff literally inspires me ty)

*takes out a mini-water gun and shoots it into ur mouth* I am here to quench your thirst (get it?? Because water. And thirst for Milo. and. . Sorruy)

Hello hi I finally did this omg I am so sorry it took literally MONTHS but here we are!!!!

I did my best, not very confident in my characterization of Milo by any means, and most of these are silly, but I hope I did him justice :’)

- I told you this in DMs already but I’ll put it out there for everyone else to enjoy: Milo voiceclaim BLAST‼️ (doing this on mobile so I can’t link from a time stamp atm but I think he starts talking around 30 seconds in?)

- Milo isn’t a gamer. But. If he ever got into a DnD campaign somehow (I feel like he’d prefer tabletop > video games if anything?) he would absolutely 100% be a druid

- Spent a while internally debating his race class. I think maybe he’d stick with human, tbh, or maybe a halfling

- If he wasn’t a farmer, I could see him still working closely with pokemon beyond just being a gym leader. Like maybe he’d have a gig at a pokemon center

- OR. Or!! maybe he’d work in a battle café as a pastry chef?

- Or maybe I’m projecting, because the thought of baker!Milo is so cute to me ckejvoskckd

- Clothes headcanons.. hmm…. Lots of sweaters? Those sweaters that have a Very Pointless zipper that goes down to the, like, mid-upper chest area before stopping?? Yeah?

- Omg wait this guy KNITS

- He totally gives out scarves and mittens and beanies that he made as a (platonic) love language

- If and when things are romantic then you’ll get sweaters and blankets too, alongside everything else

- I don’t think he’d eat meat! I don’t think he would be vegan necessarily, but I can’t see Milo being the type to eat the creatures he exists so closely with

- So maybe a vegetarian, or at least the type that eats meat sometimes but avoids it for the most part

- I wanna imagine that he meshes well with anyone he meets. Bro is a pure people person

- When it comes to romance, I think he’d be very surprisingly confident

- He’s a sweet cinnamon roll but he’s not shy by any means!!

- I think he’d be pretty up-front too. If he likes you, you’ll know. Hell, maybe he’d say it outright one day while you’re just hanging out, doing something super mundane

- Milo’s definitely a gentleman. Lets you walk inside the sidewalk rather than on the street side. Opens doors for you. Walks you to your door (maybe with a cheeky smooch?) after a date night

- He’s a ditto that’s gotten REAL good at acting btw. I mean look at that cute happy little face— You hear something?

#last bullet is purely for the giggles #SORRY AGAIN THIS TOOK SO LONG I might add some more when I’m less tired #I wanted to put more but I forgor like half of them #ok gootbye pls enjoy #crisask #artistvicky #milo #milo pokemon #pokemon milo #pkmn milo #Milo pkmn #gym leader milo #swsh Milo #Milo swsh #pokemon headcanons #pkmn swsh #pokemon swsh #swsh #pokemon sword and shield

[third-half]

2023 Self Check

Honestly, having an overall middling year where most of my troubles were my brain’s fault was kind of a breath of fresh air. Being out of commission for most of last year with a fucked up knee at least got me thankful every morning I can get up and walk around without a brace or cane. I don’t really agree with the doctors and my Dad that I’m “young” but I’m apparently still young enough I can heal. That said, I’m kind of let down in myself for letting depression and laziness get the best of me like, worse than usual this year. It hit kind of hard when sitting back and going through old archives of content and realizing that:

Sketch-A-Day was 2015 Eishi and Dixie was before that Revolver Knight ran from 2005-2008 or 2009

Meaning I’d basically failed to really deliver on any of the series/game/etc ideas I’d pitched from 2016 onward with the arguable exception of the dungeon crawler card game’s first version. If anyone was curious as to whether I’d touched on some of that stuff in the meantime the status of my Things right now is:

Angel Dust (The Gatty Thing)- Pretty much axed, as much as I love the character, it was kind of turning into edge for edge’s sake. The thing about Gatty Ling is I’ve had the idea of an erratic, destructive but adorable and well meaning character kicking around for ages but she’s kind of just a blank slate beyond those traits and I’ve tried to plunk her into like three completely unrelated settings with different origins. I was also attempting to kind of do a distinct art… sub…style with her stuff closer to a moe VN look, really pump up the cute to make the dark stuff pop, but well, Madoka already exists and the last iteration was basically Madoka with Robots. I probably wouldn’t rule it out forever but I’ve kind of been using some bits and pieces of the setting to flesh out the Plane Girls Thing

Revolver Knight Reload- I got like three pages into drawing a complete remake of my old webcomic, but kind of got cold feet from a combination of things. I didn’t think I was ready to take on another gigantic long form story, though I promise that the new version was *MUCH* more refined. Like Gatty, I wouldn’t say it’s *impossible* I mess with this, but I think I might look into something closer to a light novel with spot illustrations than a full on comic in the interest of like, finishing before I die.

Critical Heaven (The plane girl thing)- Still active, but having a bit of an identity crisis. It began as a ‘skirmish’ tabletop wargame then I got to thinking about it as more of a shmup-inspired duel game. The format of tabletop/print is also kind of iffy because I know people would be more likely to play it digitally and I have like, zip experience putting a substantial game project together. There’s also a more or less complete ‘campaign’ jotted half in my head and half in my notepad (putting it in a game with multiple endings would save me from deciding which ending to give it, hmmm.) But in short, yeah this is still being picked at.

Irrgarten (The Dungeon Card Thing)- I know I lead off with kind of the downer limbo thing but I’ve actually not totally abandoned this, definitely not the setting. Surprise, Radona is from this world! Really, I could probably bring this back pretty easily by revising the original game rules, the biggest issue we ran into play testing was that items didn’t ‘feel’ very valuable- characters were strong enough on their own not to need them. Maybe I can bump this up in priority.

There are probably other story ideas I’ve mentioned over the years and not followed up on, but characters from axed stuff do tend to surface in other projects if I’m attached enough to them. If there are any particular things that you enjoyed my work in or reading about in the past, do let me know. I’ve had a hard time motivating myself, so a nudge wouldn’t be a bad thing about now. Next year, I would really like to put more effort into having a regular “thing” to work on, maybe I’ll bring back some gag comics. Definitely plan to do more drawing in general because drawing one decent thing then going radio silent for two weeks leads to needing to de-rust like, every time. I’m a creature very vulnerable to inertia.

So, no promises here, but my goals going into 2024:

Put some time into practicing more ‘dynamic’ content like simple animation and game design since I have like three game making programs sitting around

Regular art posting, with a focus on improving quality and speed

Minding my health more since it’s easier to be active when there’s less of me to move

Establish a more regular streaming schedule since it helps me trim down my backlog

This kind of turned into more navel gazing than I had planned to be doing, but I thought this was a good time to touch base on some things since I’m back to posting here… well, okay, ‘regularly’ is a stretch, but there are a lot of things I’ve brought up before and not followed up on in a long time. If anyone has still been reading this- thank you, truly. I hope that with a bit more focus and less dwelling on the gnawing darkness in my gut, we can have some fun here again.

Oh, yeah, by the way- also been kicking around a top X games list I may get to posting soon, but may save for New Years Eve.

#meandering #who reads this

[jukeboxstan]

“do you have feelings for me or something? is giving such strong married juke sarcasm vibes

This isn't quite married juke, but i've had the storyline in my head for weeks and it just fit so well here! slight tw for blood and violence, maybe?

This wasn’t going to turn out well.

The band was participating in their first open mic night at Eats & Beats since Julie had joined, but she didn’t think any of them had expected to see Bobby there.

Or that he’d be performing a Sunset Curve song that Luke wrote.

Julie wanted nothing more than to fold Luke into a hug, to see how he was doing and offer her his support, but then the boys would see and the cat would be out of the bag.

She and Luke had been secretly dating for a month now.

Secretly, because when they’d all had a big falling out with Bobby over Julie’s recent participation in the band, it became obvious that Hannah, Reggie’s girlfriend and Bobby’s little sister, would be siding with her brother on the matter. Reggie and Hannah broke up, and he’d been devastated ever since. Luke and Julie got together the very next day, but they’d agreed not to say anything to any of their friends until it seemed like Reggie was feeling better about the whole thing.

Which hadn’t happened yet.

So Julie had to settle for the most supportive smile she could muster across the table and nudged Luke’s foot with hers. He met her gaze and offered his own tight-lipped grimace in return. She frowned.

What could she do?

“I think we should say something,” Alex determined. He nodded his head to punctuate the sentence, like he was charging himself up for the confrontation that was bound to come. To be fair, he probably was. No one hated confrontation more than Alex Mercer.

‘It’s up to you, Luke. It’s your song. We’ll support you either way.” To stop herself from reaching across the table and squeezing his hand in hers, Julie clutched the icy glass of soda in front of her and took a long drink.

Luke’s answering smile was slightly more genuine than the last.

Okay, progress. She could handle this.

Luke’s head fell into his hands as Bobby butchered the pre chorus, and Julie cringed. She wasn’t sure what Luke would find more upsetting–that Bobby was stealing his song, or that he was doing such a bad job of performing it.

Reggie let out a little choked sound next to her, and Julie’s attention darted straight from Luke to him. He was looking across the restaurant to another dimly lit table in a corner. “Hannah’s here, too,” he mumbled, cheeks turning red as he averted his gaze to the tabletop.

Comforting Reggie Julie could do. She wasn’t scared that any amount of physical contact might out a secret relationship they had. She didn’t hesitate to grab one of his hands in hers. He squeezed back gratefully.

A stilted version of Luke’s favorite guitar solo rang out on the stage.

It seemed to be the last straw.

“Okay, yeah, let’s do it.” Underneath the table, Luke caught Julie’s foot between both of his and squeezed his knees on either side of hers. She nudged back against him in support.

“We’ll be with you the whole time, bud.” Alex clapped a comforting hand against Luke’s shoulder, and then his face scrunched up in a frown. “Okay, maybe right behind you. But I’ll still be moral support!”

And that was okay, because Julie would be right next to him. Hell, she’d be in front of him if he’d let her. She didn’t consider herself to be a violent person, but she had several choice words for both Bobby and Hannah after everything they’d done to hurt the people she cared about. She hated that their first big night together had been overshadowed by such a negatively-charged situation.

Tonight they were supposed to sing Finally Free, the first song Luke and Julie truly considered a joint collaboration, and maybe they’d flirt a little on stage and their new sound and music would soon inspire Reggie enough to feel a little better and they’d tell their friends that they were together and really happy and finally have the support of their loved ones.

It didn’t seem that would be the case, though.

Instead, as Bobby left the stage and Hannah met up with him to leave out the back, Julie found herself standing up out of her chair to support Luke with her bandmates as he sought justice for the music that had been stolen from him. As the band filed out toward the green room in the back, Luke reached out for a moment and squeezed his fingers in a brief pulse against hers before letting go. According to him, the boys had known about his feelings for her long before he’d realized them himself. They wouldn’t question him seeking her out if they noticed.

They didn’t see anything anyway, and Julie was swept into the group of boys as they followed Bobby down the back hallway and out into the alleyway on the side of the building. The smell of trash hit Julie’s senses like a ton of bricks–the alley was grimy and dirty, bags of garbage torn open and strewn about messily around the trash cans and dumpsters lining the wall. This was not a place she wanted to linger for long.

“Hey!” Luke’s voice boomed louder than Julie had expected, and she smacked right into his back as he abruptly stopped as soon as the side door swung shut behind them. Alex and Reggie stood to either side of him, Julie peeking out to the side on her tiptoes to see over Luke’s shoulder.

Bobby and Hannah paused fifteen feet in front of them, turning around at Luke’s prompting. Hannah’s eyes immediately snapped to Reggie’s, and Julie fought the urge to stand in front of him and hide him away from the girl who had broken his heart. He strongly stood his ground, eyes unblinking and unforgiving as he leveled her gaze.

Julie was proud of him for it.

“I think we need to have a conversation. You in the habit of stealing other people’s songs?” Luke stepped forward, a few feet closer to Bobby. Julie instantly longed to go with him.

Bobby stepped a few steps forward too, leaving only a couple measly feet of space between the two boys.

Julie shuffled uneasily on her feet. They’d just moved close enough that this could get physical if they wanted it to. And Luke wasn’t tall by any means, but he was certainly the muscliest person she knew. While she was sure he could hold his own in a fight, she didn’t really want to witness it firsthand. The thought made her heart clench in her chest.

Alex took her hand. It was obvious he was having the same thought.

“Please, Luke. It’s not like you’re gonna break onto the scene anyway. You guys don’t have the connections like I do. No one is ever gonna know about your music. I’m doing you a favor here.” Julie flinched at Bobby’s inflection. Gone was the nice, smart guy she’d come to know from Sunset Curve. His father’s fame had finally gone to his head. He just didn’t have the talent to achieve his father’s greatness on his own.

“Come on, dude. I’d like to see literally any label sign you after they know you’re stealing other artists’ music. I’m not letting you do that,” Luke assured. His voice was even, calm. More level headed than Julie would have assumed for such a conversation. She would’ve thought he’d be a tornado of rage confronting Bobby about stolen music. She was proud of him for maintaining his cool.

Julie could see instantly that Bobby didn’t have the same self-control. His eyes flashed at the threat Luke had issued. This was going to be bad.

In a flash, Julie dropped Alex’s hand and sprung forward to get between the boys. Bobby was about to swing, and she had to protect Luke. She jumped in front of him and held her hands out  in front of her defensively. She’d do a terrible job of blocking an actual punch, but she had to try. “Hey! You need to–”

Julie’s involvement seemed to further enrage Bobby. “Of fucking course you try to jump in the middle of it. Stay out of this, Molina!” His hands grabbed onto either of her shoulders and shoved her to the side in a move she wasn’t expecting. Backwards, and she would’ve gone straight into Luke. He would’ve caught her, she was sure. But sideways? Her hands darted out to her sides to stop her as she stumbled, and the next thing she knew she was smacking butt-first into the ground, fiery pain licking up her arms.

She whimpered.

Everything erupted in the alley. She was vaguely aware of Luke’s voice, no longer calm and collected, shouting at Bobby to keep his hands off her. Hannah was yelling at them both to stop, voice an octave higher than usual in fright. Someone knelt down next to her as she lifted her hands from the ground, blood pooling around sparkly glass shards embedded into both her palms, which was apparently the cause of the burning feeling so intense her eyes were watering against it. Just before her vision totally blurred with tears, she had the awareness to note that she’d fallen straight onto a shattered bottle on the ground.

“Shit,” Reggie’s voice was the one next to her as he, too, noted the little spikes of glass in her hand and the blood making its way across her hands and to her wrists. The flannel from his waist was wrapped around her hands as gently as he could, applying as much pressure as he dared to stop the bleeding without pushing glass further into her palms. “You’re okay, Jules. It’s okay.”

She couldn’t help the small cry that escaped, burying her head into his neck while she tried desperately to focus on anything aside from the pain in her hands. Reggie smelled good, like fresh soap and the cologne he always insisted on wearing to gigs. The hand not holding his flannel across both of hers gently petted her hair in a comforting touch. Alex must have knelt behind her as well, an extra hand rubbing soothingly against her back.

“Luke!” she felt Reggie call out as much as she heard it. It gave her another sensation to focus on, feeling the vibrations of his voice in his chest and in his throat as he spoke. Reggie had never done well with blood, though, and his words had a frantic tinge to them that only reminded Julie of the blinding pain she was in. “Luke, Julie’s bleeding. We need to go.”

“What happened?” Luke’s voice was in front of her instantly, calloused fingers drawing her out from Reggie’s neck and swiping at the tears on her cheeks.

“She fell on glass. It’s all in her hands.” Reggie’s voice broke on the last word, gesturing helplessly to the flannel he’d wrapped around her that kept Luke from seeing exactly what was going on across her palms.

“Honey, look at me, please,” Luke’s comforting fingers against her cheeks coaxed Julie’s eyes to open, revealing her boyfriend squatted down in front of her with stormy hazel eyes distraught as they assessed her for any other injury. “Is it just your hands? Is anything else hurting?” His voice sounded much calmer than he looked, evidently trying very hard to soothe her through his own fear.

Julie considered the question. She flexed her limbs one by one, checking herself for any pain beyond the excruciating one in her hands. Even her butt, which had obviously landed in the broken bottle as well, seemed to have been protected enough by her jeans.

She came up empty and shook her head.

“Julie, I–” Bobby’s voice shot up behind Luke’s shoulder, much less angry sounding than it had been when he’d shoved her to the ground a minute ago. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

Julie found it in herself to nod. Bobby was a lot of things, but he’d never intentionally hurt someone this way. She knew that.

“Alex, can you go get the car, please? Let’s get back to the studio and fix her hands.” Luke’s voice maintained its calm and collected demeanor, only selling himself out by his hands still petting at her face while his lips pressed against every bit of her he could reach, as if kissing her would physically remove the pain from her hands.

Julie became idly aware of the fact that this was definitely beyond what Friend Luke would do and that he’d probably just spilled the beans, but she couldn’t find it in herself to care when all she wanted was to drown in every ounce of comfort he could provide. She sniffed back what tears she could, trying to be strong and show them that she was okay. It was just some glass in her hands–she could handle this.

Reggie let go of her wrapped hands just for Luke to hold onto the flannel in his place, and then Reggie’s hands slid under her armpits to help her stand. Under different circumstances, she would’ve been embarrassed at the feeling of Reggie’s hands dusting her butt off and checking it clinically for any signs of remaining glass, but she let herself snuggle into Luke’s chest instead and be calmed by the comforting warmth she found in his arms.

Neither Alex nor Reggie questioned it when Luke slid into the backseat with Julie, holding her close and kissing her and whispering comforting words the whole way back to her house. If it freaked him out when a patch of bright red blood seeped through the muted tones of Reggie’s flannel, he didn’t let it show.

Back at the studio, Luke held her the whole time Alex unwrapped her hands and used a lamp and a set of tweezers to pluck all the bits of glass out of her palms. It was only after all the sparkly bits were removed from her hands and the remaining injuries had been cleaned and bandaged that somebody finally said something.

“Sooo, when were you two planning to tell us that you’d finally gotten together?” It was Reggie who finally asked, arms crossed and feet propped against the coffee table in front of him as he gazed at Luke and Julie cuddled together on the couch.

Luke froze in silence, like the idea that their jig was up hadn’t even crossed his mind.

The room drowned in awkward tension.

Finally, to break it, Julie swung her head toward Luke in a mock-surprised expression. “Wait, do you have feelings for me or something?”

Luke leveled her with an unamused expression. “You’re so hilarious. I’m dating a professional comedian.”

Julie stretched up to land a kiss against the sharp edge of his jaw, and all was forgiven. His arm tucked her more securely into his side, both her bandaged hands cradled tenderly in his lap. “A few weeks,” she finally admitted, flinching slightly at the betrayed look both the boys gave her. “I’m sorry. It happened right after the whole Bobby thing, and it just felt mean to rub our relationship in when Reggie was having such a hard time.”

Reggie snorted. “You are both idiots. Just because I’m in my own lovelife turmoil doesn’t mean I can’t be happy that my two best friends finally got their shit together. Honestly, we were starting to think Luke was just going to let somebody else ask you to prom.”

Luke’s squawk of indignation told the room exactly what he thought of that idea. “I would’ve told her by then,” he grumbled, his fingers twining and untwining with hers in his lap. He was ever-careful not to jostle the bandages across her palms.

“I was pretty sure it had happened,” Alex admitted. “You two got super weird all of a sudden. Newsflash: you guys suddenly not touching at all around us was way weirder than you thought it would be. Dead giveaway.”

Luke and Julie wore twin sheepish expressions. “Oops.”

Julie turned her attention to Luke. “What are we going to do about Bobby? Do you think he’s going to keep stealing your songs?”

Luke shook his head instantly, like he’d already thought about it and decided the idea held no merit. He tugged one of her hands up to plant kisses against her fingers. “Nah, I think he scared himself shitless when he hurt you. He’s not going to cross us again.”

Despite the obvious negatives of the evening, Julie was incredibly thankful for two unintended outcomes: that Luke’s music was safe, and they no longer held a secret from their two best friends.

She’d file it down as a win in her book.

#i had kind of planned this #scene out for a full fic #but couldn't ever get it to work #hope you like it! #juke prompts #jatp #juke #luke patterson #julie and the phantoms #jukebox #julie molina #julie x luke #jatp juke #writing prompts #my writing

[helenarlett-rex]

Helen Returns with Life Updates

So I got a new job... Yeah, I work at a gaming shop now. It’s cool and all. I like the environment. It’s not anywhere near as stressful as the library was. None of my bosses or co-workers are evil. No one has a compulsive need to stab anyone else in the back. No one yells at you if you stop for a second to breathe or aren’t constantly breaking your own back every second of the day. I get to stand around at talk about Digimon and role playing games all day. That’s fun.

Although I’m literally the oldest person there... Even my bosses are like, 10 years younger than me... I’m also a literal dinosaur who grew up with the Atari 2600 and the NES so every time someone comes to trade in a PS4 or Xbox One and I’m supposed to be checking it to make sure everything works properly, I’m standing there looking at it like, “How do you even turn this on...?” I don’t know squat about Pokemon or Yu-Gi-Oh or MTG so every time someone comes in to buy or sell cards I’m just kind of like... “Are you sure you don’t want Digimon instead? I can actually help you with Digimon...” And I’m too fucking poor to even have an interest in Warhammer or Gundam models, so the most I can do there is ring the damn things up. Shame WotC doesn’t want to deal with us now that they are run by Hasbro... If we had a D&D section instead of having the entire back half of the store taken up by Warhammer I could actually have a section I knew what I was doing in... At this point I’m kind of depending on the fact that I’m the only person there with an actual work ethic, and my ability to catalogue loads of worthless inventory data in my head, to carry me and keep me from becoming that one worthless employee. I can’t trade in a game console without someone telling me what to type into the computer and I don’t know the difference between a rare, common, and uncommon card, but I’ll have three days worth of piled up game cases shelved within my first hour on the clock, I’m the only person in the history of this store to clean the bathrooms, and no, we don’t have a catalogue of what Funko Pop’s we have on the shelf, but as long as it hasn’t sold while I was off, I can tell you what we have from memory.

Money’s not great though. Back down to part time at minimum wage. Going to have to see if the government will even let me go back on food stamps. Going to have to struggle through for another couple of months just to build up enough pay stubs to even apply for that... I guess the good news is I’ve lost a lot of weight on my I can only afford beans and rice diet... And it’s not like I didn’t apply for better paying jobs... but that psycho bitch at the library felt firing me for no reason and denying me unemployment wasn’t enough to ruin me and is now actually spreading false information about me. (I know for a fact. I have recordings of it.) So the place I’m at now is literally the only place that would even give me an interview for a job...

I’m going to need to start writing hardcore again to try and supplement my income. But at least I actually have time to do that now. I sure as hell didn’t have any time to write after I became full time at the library while having to run a weekly Tabletop Gaming program on top of that FOR THE LIBRARY while being forced to do all the work for it off the clock... It’s about time I release some new installments for Miss Smalls. Hmm... Maybe I’ll have her start working at a gaming shop now that my source of stress and rage induced inspiration is gone... I’ve also got several full length Yiffpunk novels I need to have edited now that I have time to stand over Violet with a whip and make sure she actually does the editing. (Don’t look at me like that. How do you know she’s not into that sort of thing?) But the thing I’m dreading is the fact that in all likelihood I’m probably going to have to open up story commissions again... Sighs. Anyone want to buy a story commission...? Preferably one that doesn’t center around bad breath...?

[thegoddesswater]

15 Questions, 15 Mutuals

Tagged by @tc-doherty

Are you named after anyone? No. Though my mother was extremely tempted to give me her little brother’s name as a second middle name. Sometimes I wish she had for the sheer quirkiness of having a definitely masculine name thrown in with my quite feminine ones. Though I probably would have gotten tired of explaining it whenever it came up....

When was the last time you cried? January. Woke up New Years Day absolutely inconsolable after dreaming about my years-gone grandfather.

Do you have kids? Absolutely not. I’m a pretty fun aunt and reasonably good with kids, but I definitely like being able to hand the small humans back to their parents when I’m tired of them.

Do you use sarcasm? Not as much as I used to.

What's the first thing you notice about people? I feel like there is no one thing that I notice right away about people... Just general vibes? Though thinking more about this, I’d guess that what I first notice is whether someone is behaving “’normal’ for a situation” or if they’re doing something that sticks out as “not as expected” - which I mean as neutrally as I can. For example: I first encountered one of my (now) friends at a comic convention panel, and I noticed him more than the other panelists because while they were introducing themselves (aka “situation normal”), he was frantically scribbling all over his name card (aka ”not expected”).

What's your eye colour? I will forever use my friend’s ninth-grade, art-class description as the answer to this question: Rancid Mustard Normal people would use the word hazel

Scary movies or happy endings? Out of those two options? Happy endings, I guess. I’m generally skittish and don’t care much for scares. Better earn that happy ending though - make the characters work for it.

Any special talents? Special talents like what? I feel like this question is asking for quirky things that I am good at, and I don’t feel like I have much ‘special’ to answer it with. I’m pretty good at getting inside characters’ heads when writing or playing tabletop games? Does that count? That really seems more like something I’ve learned to do over the years than a “special talent”

Where were you born? Canada

What are your hobbies? Fibre art (knitting/crochet/weaving etc), writing, drawing (after many years of not doing that) baking, and very recently I’ve picked up guitar again. I am certain that I am missing about a dozen other things that I do, but I can’t think of them all at the moment. I have too many hobbies.

Have you any pets? Nah, not anymore.Used to have fish. Not sure if I’ll get more or not.

What sports do you play/have played? When I was little I played soccer and basketball for a season or two, used to swim. Now I do medieval sword and shield combat, and archery.

How tall are you? 5'1″

Favourite subject in school? English, for the most part - disliked it quite a bit in Grade 12, but I hated most things back then, so that doesn’t count. Loved taking German in uni until I had the prof in third year who sucked all the joy out of it.

Dream job? Alpaca farmer - I mean probably not really, because that would be So Much Work. But my idealized vision of what it would be like to be an Alpaca Farmer? Sure.

I’m not sure I even have 15 active mutuals, tbh. If anyone’s so inspired to do this, by all means!

#I am shy at tagging

[moved-to-queazyy]

coffee shop zukka!!!

#where zuko is an awkward mess #and sokka is smooth af #inspired by i’ll tabletop you any day! #zukka #avatar the last airbender #atla #zuko #sokka #zukka fanart

[writingfool001]

What if Newt! MC just summoned all the Heartslabyul animals? Like Riddle's wondering (panicking) about all the Croquet animals missing and they're all following MC like baby ducklings?

Newt!MC is Newt Scammander inspired MC.

Newt!MC Masterlist

People described you as having a soothing and friendly aura once they got to know you which helped when working with your creatures, but you didn't know that it would extend to regular animals.

At Heartslabyul, you were helping paint roses with the trio and Cater, carefully painting each one to not waste paint, before Cater needed help taking care of the flamingos and hedgehogs to make sure they were ready for today’s unbirthday. While Cater took care of the flamingos, you took each hedgehog out of their cage and checked each one, making sure that they were fine in health. You would sit in the small grass area while doing so, surrounded by other hedgehogs while proceeding with your check up. You had them crawling on you, some demanding for your attention while others were content with just resting on you. Creatures, the beings you were content with more than humans.

You remember the first time you saw the brightly colored hedgehogs, in awe at them as they ran around in a small area. Trey found it adorable the way you reacted as Cater recorded your interaction with them. By the end of the day, a third of the hedgehogs were attached and each time you came back, more followed.

“Ah, it’s always adorable to see you interact with the hedgehogs, (N/N)!” Cater gushed, taking pictures of your current position. “I haven’t seen them this affectionate.”

“Thanks for being our makeshift veterinarian,” Trey thanked as you packed up your supplies.

"My pleasure, nothing is wrong and they all seem to be healthy as well as ready for today's unbirthday." You smile, walking out of the small playpen, the dorm set up for them, and making sure to close the gate behind you. You hear the many squeals and grunts of the hedgehogs behind you, watching you talking to the boys. They watched you intensely before squealing loudly once you turned towards them because your attention is special to them.

“I’ll see you all later at the celebration,” You waved goodbye, smiling at the gathering of the colorful hedgehogs, before leaving.

You continue to help Heartslabyul with setting up their unbirthday in any way you could and Riddle as well as Trey tried telling you that you didn't need to help since you were a guest. Immediately, you tell them that you might as well since you were already here and Grim was helping as well while being supervised by Ace and Deuce.

You were carrying out the tablecloths to the tea garden to start setting up. Unfolding each one and spreading them on the bare tables, you turn back to go back inside to get the rest of the decorations, only to see the box of them at your feet. You don’t remember casting a charm on the box to follow or hear anyone come, maybe someone did and you weren’t paying attention. You shrug it off and start setting up the tables, humming to yourself.

“Wow, (Y/N), you set the tables up so fast,” Deuce awed, seeing you begin to set the various cups and teapots.

“You doubt my henchman, how dare you!” Grim smirked, crossing his paws.

“And here we thought you needed help, but it looks like you didn’t need us after all.” Ace teased, causing you to laugh a bit.

“I seem to be full of surprises, but seriously, did no one come in before you guys?”

“No, you’ve been the only one out here for the past hour.” They reply, placing the roses in the vases and around the tabletops.

“That’s strange, then, how di-”

The peaceful atmosphere was abruptly pierced by a loud screech, making you four go quiet immediately. With your knowledge of magical creatures so far, only one made that volume and type of screech, Riddle. You four rush towards where you think the sound came from to see him, face flushed red, by the hedgehogs’ play pen which was empty.

“WHERE ARE THE HEDGEHOGS!!!” Riddle yelled, looking at us.

“The gate was locked and secured when I finished my check up on them.” You answered, “After that, I have no clue who saw them last.”

“I swear we need to charm the pen’s lock so it won't come undone.” Ace muttered under his breath as Deuce and Grim watched you run off, starting to look for the balls of color.

You looked everywhere in the dorm; the kitchen, lounge, tea garden, and the maze. Yet, they were nowhere to be found.

Dejected, you return to Riddle to tell him your news and as you approached the group, Trey notices your return and leaned his head to the side.

“I know where they disappeared.” Trey answered, staring in my direction.

“Really!? Where?” Riddle and I asked, wanting to know where they were. He simply points to me, confusing me before looking behind me to see the very creatures you were looking for.

Every single last hedgehog, staring up at you with their beady cute little eyes while a few stragglers caught up with the group. Is Trey implying that they were following you for the entire time. Once you thought about it, no one came into the tea garden, it was the hedgehogs carrying the box and left it before leaving. You look down at them, slightly astonished. They may seem adorable and look innocent, but that is all a smoke screen to how mischievous they truly are.

#twisted wonderland x mc #twisted wonderland x reader #Newt!MC #heartslaybul x reader #ace x reader #deuce x reader #cater x reader #trey x reader #riddle x reader #ace trappola #deuce spade #cater diamond #trey clover #riddle rosehearts #twst grim

[starks-hero]

Right a Wrong || Part Two

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Summary: You help Bucky make amends and things start to look up for the both of you.

Word Count: 2,800

Warnings: angst, fluff, tfatws spoilers! 1×06

a/n: A few people were interested in a second part to Right a Wrong and the finale gave me a little inspiration so ta da! :) This fic can be read as a stand alone but I'll link part one for anyone that's interested. A little rushed so all mistakes are my own. Spoilers below!

|| Part One ||

*gif not mine*

Bucky didn't sleep on the floor anymore, or the couch. Since being with you, falling asleep in a bed had become his new normal. But it was strange. It was soft and warm and comfortable. In a way, it felt wrong. Bucky didn't deserve something this homely or domestic. When he lay down on the silk sheets he felt like they were going to swallow him whole. Or that he'd sink right through the mattress and into the cold floor. It had been so long since he'd slept in a bed his body was completely unaccustomed to the soft, plush bedding beneath him, his back had long since grown used to the stiffness of the floorboards.

In fact, the night you both left the Wilson's and stayed in a somewhat decent hotel together was the first night Bucky had slept in a bed in months. Longer than he cared to admit. But amidst the strangeness of it all, there was you.

His discomfort at the foreign feeling of laying in a soft bed dispersed the moment you crawled in next to him. He'd pulled you to his chest, arms wrapping around you whilst you clung to his side, hands laying lazily across his stomach. And for the first time in years, Bucky fell asleep peacefully. It was the best night of sleep he'd gotten since before the war.

And he owed it all to you.

Buckys feelings for you had only grown stronger since that day you agreed to go with him. Since then he'd sworn that he'd never met anyone as loving or caring as you in his lifetime.

You didn't run, you didn't leave him. When the nightmares came you stayed. You would gently coax him awake and calm his waking mind with soft words of comfort when the night terrors left him terrified and confused. You held him, gently running your hands down his body and through his hair, not showing any disdain for where man met metal. And when you gently kissed the side of his head Bucky swore he was prepared to forgive everyone that had ever wronged him if they had played a part in bringing him to you.

His nightmares had also declined in the time that you two were together, as did most of his self deprecating thoughts. Of course, they didn't go away entirely. But you helped him where you could and understood when you couldn't. You knew that despite how much you wanted to, you couldn't love his demons away. And Bucky loved you all the more for accepting that.

Over the course of a few weeks, when the dust had finally settled after the Flag Smashers attack on the GRC HQ in New York, both you and Bucky focused on the names in the book that Bucky could now recite in order without even glancing at the page. When you'd asked him where he wanted to start, one name immediately leapt to the forefront of his mind. And that name is exactly what had led you both to the quaint apartment block tucked away in the corner of New York City.

"I can't do this." Bucky's voice was timid as you both stood outside the apartment complex. He swallowed and turned to you helplessly.

"Yes, you can." You gently took his hand in yours.

This was it. The first name on Bucky's list. Yori Nakajima. You were both aware that the first was going to be the hardest. But now that you were actually here, standing in front of the home of the elderly man who'd lost his son at the hands of the winter soldier, it suddenly seemed all too real and just a little bit impossible. Bucky's stomach tied itself in a knot.

"No, I can't. I can't." He said through laboured breaths. He shook his head as he paced in front of you. "I can't tell him. I can't watch what that will do to him. I can't-" Bucky's breathing began to grow erratic.

"Hey." You quickly stepped in, stopping his relentless pacing and holding his face in your hands. "It's okay, you're okay." You softly shushed him. "Bucky, you can do this. You have to."

He sighed, calming slightly beneath your touch. "I'm guessing I have to do it alone, too. Don't I?" He asked and you nodded sympathetically. Your thumb caressed his cheek, tracing the stubble along his jaw. As much as you wanted to be there with him you knew he had to do this part alone.

"You can do this."

Bucky smiled softly at your words despite the growing fear in his eyes. He gently caught your wrist and moved your hand to his mouth, placing a tender kiss to your palm.

"Okay," he said quietly and turned to glance at the door of the building. He exhaled slowly.

"I'll be waiting right here," you comforted and he acknowledged you with a curt nod. His hand slipped from yours as he headed inside and you watched him go, your heart in your throat.

Time seemed to drag on forever as you waited, nervously toying with your hands. Bucky had been gone for a little under forty minutes and you couldn't tell if that was a good or bad sign. You tried to convince yourself that everything was fine but your mind kept reminding you of the worst possible scenario and what that might mean for Bucky.

You bit down on your lip as you impatiently shuffled your feet. You watched the crowds pass as you stood out of the way of the busy street, leaning against the wall of the alley next to the apartments.

After a few more painfully long moments you saw him amongst the crowd. Bucky's expression was unreadable as he stopped in front of you and you couldn't tell if things had gone well or not. He almost seemed to be in a state of shock.

"Bucky," you tried timidly and he looked up at you. There were tears building in his eyes.

"He forgave me." He managed hoarsely. The frenzy of emotions he was experiencing was evident in his expression. It was almost as if he didn't know whether to laugh with joy or cry. You wordlessly pulled him to you and he welcomed your embrace.

"You did it, Buck," you muttered as you comfortingly ran your hands along his back and he clung to you like a lifeline. "You did it."

He pulled away to look at you, still slightly teary-eyed but features now flooded with relief. The weight of the world seemed to have been lifted from his shoulders and a small smile found its way to his lips as he looked at you in disbelief

You pulled the small red book from your pocket, where it had been stowed away for safekeeping, and Bucky nodded. You were the only one Bucky trusted enough to share it with. You handed the tattered notebook to him and he turned the pages in a flimsy, disorganised motion, his fingers shaking slightly. Pulling a pencil from his pocket, Bucky's smile widened as he drew a line through 'Nakajima'.

He traced the faded name with his thumb one last time before glaring at the multiple other names and initials jot down on the paper.

"What now?" He asked as he glanced down at the open book in his hand.

You shrugged. "One down."

Bucky huffed, shoving the book back into his pocket with a surprising level of caution. "Only a dozen more to go."

"Still, it's a start." You smiled, gently placing your hand against his shoulder and dragging it down his arm.

He smirked, catching your waist and pulling you into him. He captured your lips in a kiss, ignoring the fact that the street was still bustling with people a few feet away from you both. Bucky wasn't always the biggest fan of PDA, mostly because it wasn't exactly encouraged to be all that affectionate in public back in the forties. But this was different. This was you and him and in light of what had just happened, he didn't care who saw. He was going to kiss you as much as he damn wanted to.

"Thank you," he muttered against your lips, slipping his hand into yours as you both stepped out onto the busy street.

"You've got to stop saying that." You shook your head and Buckys hand only tightened around your own.

"Why?" He tilted his head with a bemused smirk.

"Because I told you," you grinned, pulling him closer to you so your shoulders brushed. "You don't have to say thank you, not to me."

Bucky didn't answer, truth was he was at a complete loss for words. He just offered you a loving smile as he wondered how he got so damn lucky.

It had been a few weeks since the final name had been crossed off the list. Some had taken their toll on Bucky more than others, but now it was finally complete and Bucky once again experienced that wonderful feeling of being freed. This time not from trigger words, but from burdens he'd been forced to carry.

Things were finally looking up for you both. You'd managed to carve out your own unique sense of normality. And as both you and Bucky worked in the kitchen of your shared apartment on a particular Saturday afternoon, your new normal seemed to include watching the worlds most deadly ex-assassin baking a cake.

"And you're sure we couldn't have just bought one?" You asked, trying and failing to hide a smirk as you glanced at Bucky's handiwork. The cake was lopsided and the icing Bucky was currently covering it in seemed to be its only saving grace.

"Of course not, doll. Where's the fun in that." Bucky stated plainly. However, given your earlier attempt at cake baking, it would turn out that Buckys idea of fun involved throwing flour and eggs at each other and then making out on the tabletop whilst the cake overcooked in the oven.

But you didn't complain. You were just glad to see him so happy and carefree after everything.

He plastered a finishing layer of cream over the cake, looking awfully pleased with himself as he held it up for you to see with a proud smirk.

You bit the inside of your cheek to stifle your laughter.

"Get cleaned up." You ordered, motioning to his flour-covered henley. "Sam told us to be there by five o'clock. We're going to be late."

Bucky nodded dismissively as he sucked the stray icing from his fingers, making a point to keep eye contact with you as he did so. He smirked knowingly. Purposely pissing you off just to get a reaction out of you was just too much fun, he couldn't resist it.

"Problem, doll?" He asked and you wordlessly crossed the room and kissed his stupid smirk right off his stupid mouth. His mischievous grin only widened as he moaned against you. The sweet taste of icing lingered on his lips.

"Nope, no problem." You swiped your thumb across the corner of his mouth once you pulled back, wiping away the last of the icing. "You just had a little something on your lips."

He grinned down at you, heart full. You were going to be the death of him but god would he die a happy man if that were the case.

It took every ounce of control and willpower he possessed but he masterfully with-held the urge to shove you against the nearest surface and instead did as he was told, heading upstairs to change with one last peck to your cheek.

Ten minutes later and you were both on the road, cake securely strapped into the back seat of the car. The apartment you and Bucky were staying in was only a short drive away from the Wilson's and Sam was right, the people in the town really were the most welcoming in the world. You and Bucky had never felt more at home.

As Bucky parked the car on the dock, Cass and AJ were the first to greet you, ambushing Bucky. You smiled fondly as you watched him goof around with the boys before greeting everyone already at the cookout. Both boys then turned their attention to you, almost tackling you to the ground with the strength of their hugs. You couldn't quite put it into words, but there was something about how AJ rambled on so fondly about how Uncle Sam had set a place for you and Bucky at their table that made you feel more at home than ever before. Dinner itself was filled with laughter and shared stories. You did sit with the Wilson's, Bucky and Cass sitting to your left and right with Sam, Sarah and AJ sitting across from you. It was perfect. Between the bad jokes and the arguments over things as simple as the salt and pepper, it all blended together into the perfect mess of domestic bliss.

You glanced at Bucky who was smiling widely and laughing as he told a story to both boys who looked to him as if he were explaining the secrets of the universe. He was relaxed, unburdened and above all else, happy. He looked like he had finally found a home, a family.

As the meals were finished and things quietened down, you helped Sarah and Sam clean everything up. Then once everything was done, you simply sat and enjoyed the atmosphere. There was music being played, people dancing, and a little off to your left you could see Bucky. AJ and another kid were comedically hanging from his metal arm. Playful smiles were adorning all their faces. Who knew the worlds deadliest assassin had no issue with being a jungle gym if it meant making kids smile?

"I told you. Didn't I tell you?"

You turned and found Sam grinning behind you. He motioned to you and then Bucky.

"I've never seen him like this, so happy. Feels like I'm looking at the old Bucky Steve use to talk about." He said and you beamed.

"Yeah. He's come so far, crossed off every name in his book. I guess he finally feels like he can move on now."

Sam's elated expression softened as he glanced between you and Bucky again.

"I guess we've got you to thank for that, huh?" He playfully elbowed you in the side but his voice was nothing short of genuine. You laughed and shook your head, pushing back into him.

"I didn't do anything, it was all him. I just stood by."

"That's exactly why it's you I should thank." Sam smiled. Both of your gazes fell back on Bucky who seemed to have started a rather competitive game of tag among the kids he was surrounded by. "You stood by him no matter how bad it got. Not a lot of people would do that. Hell, not a lot of people have done that for him. I don't want to think about what could have happened if he didn't have you."

You nodded solemnly, eyes not leaving Bucky.

"Well, I'm not going anywhere so you don't have to worry about that."

Sam nodded with a grin, clasping a hand down on your shoulder. "Glad to hear it. But we should probably stop staring at him now, it's getting creepy, people are going to start asking questions."

You laughed at Sam's comment, muttering a quiet 'Copy that, Cap' as he headed back over to Sarah. As the sun began to set beneath the waves, most of the guests began to take their leave and head home. However, you and Bucky strayed away from the main party for a little time alone. You stood on the dock overlooking the water, Bucky behind you with his arm around your waist and planting kiss after kiss to your neck.

You couldn't explain the warmth that spread within you as you both watched the sun go down. But this was all you'd ever wanted. Bucky pulled you closer against him, opting to use his new vantage point to gingerly kiss your cheek.

"I love you," he sighed, resting his chin against your shoulder. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me."

You grasped his hand and laid back against him, counting your lucky stars that you'd both made it to where you were at that moment.

"I love you too."

He grinned at your words and held you close as he looked out over the golden waves and setting sun. He was finally home.

tag list: @bakerstreethound​ @doozywoozy​ @miraclesoflove​ @the-queer-dungeoneer​ @kealohilani-tepise

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky fanfic #tfatws spoilers #tfatws x reader #marvel x reader

[pagesoflauren]

What Happens in the Kitchen...

soft!Ransom x reader

Summary: Ransom is stuck cleaning the kitchen after a messy breakfast that sent Harlan Jr. into a food coma. When you come home early, you decide to take advantage of the private time between you and your husband.

Warnings: swearing, SMUT (18+ ONLY//MINORS DNI; vaginal sex, breeding kink, dirty talk), not beta'd

A/N: I told y'all these two would get some action! There's a couple other bits I wanna post for this. Honestly, I write for this series as ideas come; if you have any requests for it, please feel free to drop them in my inbox!

The Highest Bidder Masterlist

Money’s Worth Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Ransom’s in a panic.

Junior is getting restless at the breakfast table, barely distracted by the show playing on the tablet.

He had demanded--well, asked, but he would not accept any alternatives--pancakes for breakfast.

On your day at work.

“Buddy, pancakes are for when mommy has days off.”

“When mommy off?” he asked as he toddled, stringing enough words together to create a coherent question.

Putting aside how proud he is of his son’s language skills (especially since you always ramble about how well he’s developing), Ransom chants the days of the week in his mind.

“She’ll be off in two days. On Friday.”

“Pancakes today!”

“Harlan--”

“Pancakes today please?” the little one implores, wide eyes like yours staring into his and Ransom breaks, clenching his teeth to prevent himself from swearing.

“Okay, pancakes today.”

Now he stands at the counter with Peppa Pig’s voice utterly ingrained in his head, flour dusted all over the marble, butter melting in its wrapper, and eggs warming after an extended time out of the fridge.

He’s tried and failed three times now and he feels it in the air: both the men in the house are reaching the ends of their ropes.

At least Ransom has one Hail Mary.

He picks up his phone and dials your number.

“Hey honey, this has to be quick--”

“Sunshine, I need the pancake recipe.”

He can hear the sound of a stack of papers landing on a tabletop. “Pancakes?” you wonder. “But it’s--”

“Wednesday, I know. The little gremlin wants some.”

“Not gremlin!!!” Harlan protests the moniker.

“Shh, dad’s on the phone,” Ransom dismisses him, turning around to face him and keep a proper eye on his son.

He can hear you laughing on the other end.

“I miss you.”

“Just a couple more hours, darling,” he can hear you smile as you reassure him. “But write this down and you’ll have pancakes for him in ten minutes, okay?”

Ransom is thankful for you in more ways than one: you’re taking time out of your work to do this; you’ve stashed notepads in various places around the house for him to use because he gets spurs of inspiration at inconvenient times and prefers writing them down instead of typing them on his phone; and you love him, to name a few.

Grabbing a notepad in the cupboard with the mugs and a pencil velcroed to the door, he messily scribbles your instructions.

“You got it?” you check, then affirm him after he finishes rattling them off. “Okay. Have fun, I’ll see you later.”

“See you,” he replies, gathering the last large bowl you have in the kitchen and getting the whisk out of the drying rack. “You’re gonna have a hell of a mess to clean up when you get here.”

He hears you scoff, making him freeze. “I think not, Ransom. When I get home, my kitchen better be spotless. You understand?”

Ransom sighs. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good. I love you, see you soon.”

He returns the promise of love for you and says goodbye again.

Ransom never hangs up first on phone calls. He can never bring himself to do it. It has to be you, and you always do it, though it’s reluctant on your part too.

Setting his phone down on the island, Ransom calls to his son. “Alright, kiddo, pancakes coming up.”

He cheers and claps his hands, making his dad feel like a superhero.

---

Ransom is a little surprised to hear the garage door open earlier than expected. You come through into the kitchen less than a minute later.

“Hey,” he pauses washing the dishes as greets you. “You weren’t kidding when you said ‘a couple hours more.’”

You remind him of the clinic’s changing hours that began today, and he nods his head absently. He’s certain you’ve told him but he just forgot.

“I take it the pancakes were a success though,” you point out.

“Yeah, the little beast was scarfing those down. He ate himself into a food coma; he’s been asleep for the past hour or so.”

“I guess that explains this,” you smile, walking over to the counter and lifting up the near empty bag of flour.

He nods. “I’ll stop by the store tomorrow to get some more before Friday.”

Your smile turns into a smirk as you carry the bag to the pantry and put it in its designated spot.

“No need to get too much,” you say, mischief lacing your tone. Standing next to your husband, you compliment his figure with an audible smack to his ass. “These are the only cakes I’m interested in.”

You can tell he’s stunned and it’s warranted. It’s the first time you’ve been so forward and physical with your flirtation. He turns to you, brows furrowed. “Are you objectifying me?” he accuses in half-offense.

Keeping eye-contact with him, you snap the cuff of the floral dish-washing gloves he’s donning. He jumps and you wink, “Absolutely.”

Taking the gloves off, he turns to face you, one hand on his hip, the other propped against the rim of the sink.

You cross your arms and tilt your chin up. “What?”

“I’m trying to figure out how to approach this situation.”

“Ransom, it’s me,” you point out, “Your wife? When have you ever needed a tactic for me?”

“No it’s just...wow. This is what it feels like to be a housewife. Or house husband. Your wife just comes in while you’re trying to do chores and smacks your ass.” He puts on a look of exasperation, but the glint in his eyes tells you he’s clearly enjoying it.

“It’s ‘house spouse’, actually. Gender neutral term and fun little rhyme,” you explain, delivering a teasing squeeze to his side. “And you work too, you just happen to work in the house where our son is also staying during the day. Though…” you trail off, looking in the direction of the bedrooms.

“What?”

“We should send him to preschool in...” you think for a moment. “Maybe February or March.”

Ransom looks stricken. “Already?”

“He’ll be nearly three and a half by then.”

You’re both silent to absorb the shock. Thirty-seven months with him have flown by.

“Imagine that. You’ve been a house spouse for over three years and it’s just occurred to you now.”

“I want him to be a baby again,” your husband laments.

“Well, we can’t turn back time,” you redundantly remind him. “Though, there’s another solution to that.”

Ransom hears the mischief return to your voice.

“We did say three kids,” he agrees, hand moving from his hip to yours and snaking around your waist.

Nodding, you bring your arms around his shoulders, fingers playing with the hairs at the nape of his neck.

“I think now’s a good time, too,” you whisper, bumping your nose with his. “Soon the clinic will be on winter break. We’ll have a full week before our cousins come over for the holidays.”

“Junior can spend some time with grandad before he goes to preschool.”

“Lots of alone time.”

“God knows we don’t get too much of that.”

“God knows time is running out right now,” you say pointedly.

“Good point,” he relents, pressing his lips to yours.

You unwrap your arms from around his neck to quickly discard your blazer, throwing it haphazardly to the side. Ransom pivots to pin you against the island, hands moving to roughly undo the buttons at the front of your shirt.

“Should we bring this upstairs?” he mumbles, mouth pressing against the skin of your neck as his fingers undo the front clasp of your bra.

“No,” you breathe.

He freezes, pulling away from you. “‘No’?”

You purse your lips, cheeks warming at the admission you provide, “Honestly, the idea of you fucking me here is doing a lot for me.”

Ransom’s head empties of all thoughts, blood rushing south as his brain begins to conjure up images of his own.

Smiling stupidly, he kisses you hard. “God dammit, I love you,” he says, excitement lacing his tone as he sheds his shirt.

“Better show me quick,” you rush, making to rid yourself of your own top clothes. “If he’s been asleep for an hour now--”

“Got it.”

It’s clear he understands the assignment, undoing your belt in a flurry of fingers and opening the front of your pants. You barely register him shoving them down before they puddle around your ankles. Kicking them away, you jump when he begins to lift you by your hips.

He barely gives you time to be shocked at the cool marble of the counter on the island, working his mouth across your breasts. His tongue flits over over your left nipple, images of your pregnant body flashing across his mind and he groans.

“Fuck, can’t wait to see that again,” he mutters, unable to keep the thought from tumbling out of his mouth.

“What?” you gasp curiously.

“You, pregnant. Growing a baby.” He feels himself throb in his sweatpants, blindly undoing the drawstring at the waistband. They loosen around his hips, alleviating the painful friction in his groin. “My baby.”

Butterflies erupt in your stomach and need slickens the area between your legs. Your hips move forward, trying to create stimulation there but it’s useless.

“Ransom,” you whine.

“I know,” he hushes. His voice is weak too, desire spreading like wildfire from his center and moving to every part of his body. He rids himself of his pants, kicking them to land somewhere near yours. He brings one hand down to your sex, feeling you through the cloth of your panties. “All this for me?”

You nod, squeaking pitifully at his ministrations.

“Got wet thinking about me getting you pregnant?” he wonders, his question completely redundant. The answer is right here, coating his fingers. “Don’t worry, baby, I’ll give you what you want.”

“Please,” you sob, looking like you’re on the verge of tears, wriggling in his hold.

He doesn’t need anymore, digits quickly curling into the front waistband. The fabric rips easily in his feral grip, making way for the wide head of him to press into your entrance.

The both of you let out a slow sigh in relief as he slides in. When he’s fully sheathed, you moan at the fullness you feel as he savors the sensation of being completely surrounded by you.

“You good?” he checks, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

Leaning your head against his, you nod.

Cupping the bottoms of your thighs, Ransom brings your legs around his waist until your ankles are hooked at the small of his back. With you completely wrapped around him, he pulls his hips back before snapping them forward.

You both gasp at him sliding home again, sighing blissfully as he begins to create a rhythm with his movements.

Your body heats up with each thrust, pushing you higher as Ransom’s power moves you away from the edge of the counter, your legs weakening under the influence of your pleasure. Allowing no escape, he grips your hips hard, pinning you in place to keep you where he wants.

“Fuck, fuck,” he grits out, “Feel so good.”

You cry out for him, unable to say anything else.

“What is it?” he taunts, “What do you need?”

Your attempts to answer his question are feeble, breaking apart as your eyes roll back. With a cloudy mind, you know what you want but your body is no longer under your control. Rather, you’re at your husband’s mercy.

“Want me to cum inside you?” His words make way for a torrent of excitement and the squeeze of your walls around him. “That’s what it is, right? That’s what you need.”

The sound that rips from your throat is downright pornographic as you manage to nod.

“Want me to put another baby in you?”

“Yes!”

“Shh, don’t worry,” he coos, hoisting your legs up the slightest bit more to open you up more from him. He smirks against your skin, chuckling in your ear as you cry out. “Feel good?”

You whimper as you nod, arms and legs tightening around him.

“That’s my girl. I’ll give you what you want. But need you to come for me first,” he whispers. “Can you do that?”

He feels your walls constrict around him again and again, knowing you’re close to your end.

He picks up the pace, aiming to hit that spot within you he knows will force you over the edge.

You moan and whimper under his control, shutting your eyes and seeing white when you feel his thumb slot between the two of you, stimulating your clit.

You cry out weakly, not wanting to be too loud or else risk your son hearing. The release is sweet, lighting up every single nerve in your body and you swear for a moment you lose consciousness.

“That’s it, fuck,” Ransom’s voice brings you back. “Feel so damn good.”

“Please,” you beg.

He taunts you, demanding you to say more.

“Please, need you to come,” you answer, voice brittle as you adjust to look at him with pleading eyes. “Want you to come inside me.”

You beg him more and more as his hips speed up and lose rhythm, spurred on by your voice and need for him.

He buries his face in your shoulder, groaning into your skin as he finishes within you, emptying his load into your walls.

The two of you stay there for a few long moments, relishing the closeness of each other and the haze of love that falls around you.

He’s the first one to say it; he says it over and over as he presses his lips to your skin, a trail of kisses leading up to your lips.

He pulls out slowly, about to turn away to gather up your scattered clothes when you stop him with an urgent hand on his shoulder.

“Ransom, wait,” you say. “I love you, too.”

Hooking his hand around your neck, he kisses you once, hard and emotional.

With that, he picks up your discarded garments and hands them to you before scooping you up into his arms to carry upstairs.

He’s careful around Junior’s room, pausing briefly.

You both sigh in relief when you can hear the soft snores coming from the other side of the door.

“That’s quite the food coma,” you whisper to him. “His sleep schedule will be hell the rest of the week.”

“We’ll worry about that later. You think he’s gonna sleep long enough for us to go another round?”

You smile with raised eyebrows. With a smile of his own, he quickly makes his way down the hall to your shared bedroom, shutting the door with his foot.

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#ransom x reader #ransom drysdale x reader #ficsofpagesoflauren #ransom drydale x you #ransom drysdale smut #ransom drysdale fic #Money's Worth

[elijahs-wife]

whenever you need me

a/n: hey so, this wasn't requested by anyone but it just kind of poured out of me uncontrollably in a bout of despair i had— it was also greatly inspired by a tiktok i saw which i shall link at the bottom if you want to see it. i'm not tagging anyone in this bc it's kind of strange? i'm not sure if its everyone's thing. but if you have a strong attachment to fictional characters and suffer from random painful reality checks, maybe you'll relate?

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

wc: 1000

Tap, tap. Tap, tap. Tap, tap.

Your pen strikes the tabletop with each beat you play, an almost involuntary response to when you were feeling particularly stressed out. That seemed to be an everyday occurrence now—school has been putting you through the wringer lately. The letters—why are there so many letters in math—are line-dancing over the pages, your mind drifting further and further away from what was in front of you until you hear it, a voice you would recognize out of a hundred others, and your head snaps up immediately. He’s here. “Hi there, doll.”

Your lips curve into a glowing beam at the sight of him. “Hi Bucky,” you say, leaning back in your chair a little to get a proper look at him. He’s in his usual henley and jeans, a black jacket thrown on top. His chestnut hair looks freshly cropped—it’s a good look on him, even if you do miss the longer hair. He looks handsome, with a kind smile on his lips, like someone you could take home to mom one day.

“What’re you up to?” He leans against your desk casually, black and gold metal glinting as it catches the light. You point at all the books open in front of you, pulling a face at him—it makes him laugh for a second, and you feel a few butterflies begin to flutter around in your stomach. You wish you could record it and save it to listen to later.

“Don’t you think you should be concentrating on that, then?”

“I should be. I think I’d rather talk to you, though,” you grin at him cheekily.

He shrugs his shoulders as he smiles back at you, dropping to sit down on the floor. “Alright. What do you wanna talk about?” And so you join him on the carpet, and a discussion on favorite colors and the best pizza place in the city and simple, arbitrary questions eventually melts into a comfortable silence. You hardly feel this at ease with anyone, even your friends. Bucky was the closest thing to home you felt.

His voice cuts through the quiet to ask you another question. “If you could be anywhere right now, where would you choose to go?”

He’s looking at you expectantly when you turn to meet his eyes. Where would you want to go? Italy had always been a dream of yours, and Greece, France. Why was it so hard to choose one now?

It takes a couple of minutes before you hum softly with a half-smile and finally reply. “I don’t know. As long as you were with me, I would go anywhere.” And in that moment, all you can hear is your own breathing, and your heart thumping away in your chest because Bucky’s gone completely silent. There’s mild incredulity on his face, his lips parted in a strange smile.

“You really mean that, don’t you?”

You want to memorize his face when it looks this way, all soft smile lines and bright eyes. He’s so gorgeous, and his flesh hand is cupping the side of your face, like he loves you. You can almost feel his warmth. Its almost real.

He watches your face fall, and the way you try and cover it up, but your poker face was never any good—you were an open book, always had been. “What’s wrong, doll?”

Maybe “what isn’t wrong?” would be a more apt question, but you shrug it off, like you do everything. Shake it off, repress, repeat.

“Nothing, I just… just wish you were really here. Then we could be together all the time.”

He shakes his head gently, half-hearted smile on his lips. “No. You don’t need me.”

“But I do.” Your fingers are gripping the pen in your efforts to keep the tears from forming, knuckles growing paler by the second. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry—what was it about this man that made you want to open up, to let yourself feel something? “You help me cope.”

“Cope? With what?” He’s being gentle with you, not wanting to push you too far.

Everything. “Reality. I know you’re not real, but I think there’s a tiny part of me that doesn’t want to accept that. I think about you all the time, but— it’s just because I want to escape for a while.” You look up at him and you can already feel the water brimming in your eyes, ready to overflow. “Is that so crazy? Is it crazy to love you the way that I do?” You feel a single tear streak down your cheek, salty water burning your skin as it goes, but he wipes it away almost immediately.

“It’s not. You’re not crazy—no, look at me,” he hooks a finger under your chin when you try and hide your face from him, “I’ll always be here, doll. Whenever you need me.” He holds out his pinky finger, the most sacred of oaths, and you entwine your finger with his, your watery eyes drowning in the oceans gazing back at you. He really did have the most beautiful eyes, but they were already starting to fade away.

“I love you,” he says, but his voice comes out muggy and distorted and distant, so distant and suffocated by the unwelcome sounds of someone knocking at a door—

“y/n!”

Your eyes snap open at the intrusion, and he’s gone, leaving you just as alone as you were.

“Come on, we’re all going to get drinks,” your friend calls from the other side of the door. You blink a few times, shaking yourself back into the real world and getting a grip on your surroundings—your eyes fall onto what’s right in front of you.

“y/n?” They sound worried.

“Coming,” you reply absentmindedly, gently brushing your fingertips against the old movie poster tacked onto your wall, right above your desk. Ocean eyes look dull and stormy on paper.

“I love you too, Bucky.”

-

if you made it this far, thanks for reading 💗

the tiktok i was inspired by

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes drabble #i cried while writing this however idk if thats bc its actually sad or im a crybaby #anyway #enjoy this ig?

[alfredosauce50]

From a past life [Yandere vampire! Romania x reader]

Synopsis: For centuries, he waited for your return--your rebirth. So when he finally learns of your whereabouts just outside of Wallachia, he rushes to meet you in hopes of becoming what you both used to be. But he runs into a predicament when he learns you're in a relationship with a man, a pesky human mortal by the name of Daniel. He'll do anything to get rid of him, even if he has to play dirty. He made a promise to you that he would find you for the rest of your lifetimes, so God forbid that he breaks it. Wordcount: 3, 813 The reader is referred to as she/her.

A trip to Romania had always been on your bucket list. Your boyfriend was just as excited to go, but he wouldn’t have been if it turned out to be the last trip you'd ever go on with him.

Today was when you would visit the highlight of your itinerary. On the Transylvania side of the border with Wallachia, and nestled in miles of rolling hills, was Bran castle. The awe-inspiring fortress told one of the most famous tales of old as Count Dracula's abode. Or at least, it was rumored to be as it fit the description of it.

Needless to say, you were dragging him around the estate to admire anything and everything that piqued your interest or served as a potential photo spot. “Oh, hurry up, Daniel! This is where he slept!” Scrambling closer to the grand bed, which was certainly framed with more wood than needed, you leaned in behind the red rope that fenced off the artifact. Then, you flashed him a wide grin.

He returned the gesture with a tender smile of his own. “I'm as old as this castle, kicsim. Let me take things in slowly.”

“You're only three years older than me. I don't think you have the right to call me little or yourself old.” Flattening your lips at that, your frown melted away as quickly as it appeared.

“But look! Dracula's sheets and mattress. Though it would make more sense to say it was Vlad's... The guy he was based on. Hmm, but that wouldn't make sense either.”

The man rubbed the nape of his neck with a soft laugh. It was no doubt he shared your enthusiasm, but your unapologetic passion always made him fall harder than he already had. “Yep. I believe he was imprisoned here. I don't think he'd be getting the master bedroom.” He appeared from behind and rested himself on your head as you placed a pistol grip on your chin.

“Even then, I can't imagine him sleeping so soundly after sticking so many sticks up people's--” Two strong arms squeezed around your waist to make you gasp.

“Ah-!”

“Okay! What do you say we go down to the gardens for a walk, hm?”

And that was exactly what the two of you did. Skipping out in front of him, you held onto his hands and swung his arms. “I'm gonna go down to the pond, okay? You can enjoy this place nice and slowly like the old person you are.”

This was the greenest garden you ever had the pleasure to stroll through, even the tea house blended in with its moss-covered roof. It only emphasized how ancient this castle really was, and something about it delighted you in ways you couldn't articulate.

“Alright, kicsim. I'll see what nice flowers I'll add to my hair.” Daniel scooped the pink blossom from his hazel brown bangs and placed it behind your ear. “When I do, I'll come get you. Don't let any vampires find you before I do.” Shooting you a wink at that, you pecked him on the nose before running off.

Who would have thought those words would ring truer than he intended? Several miles away, slept a man who was as old as Bran castle. His name too was Vlad, though he never earned such a fearsome reputation by impaling his enemies. Instead, he kept a low profile and dedicated his long, neverending life to finding someone.

Every restless night, she was what he dreamed of since her passing.

When I go, promise me you'll find me again.

Promise me.

Fluttering his eyes awake, they glowed a blood-red in the darkness of his bedroom. They drooped with a tiredness that never seemed to go away no matter how much he rested.

Sliding off the mattress, he folded the flaps of his robes tightly around his body before making his way into the halls. Every corner of this humble countryside cottage he called his home was enshrouded with shadows, and not to mention the thick coating of dust caking the top of every shelf, couch, and tabletop.

He hadn't cleaned this house for centuries. His will to try withered away through the years in his lonesome, but he was patient. Peeking through the gap between the curtains of his overgrown hair, his irises shrunk as the blinding daylight poured into them through the drapes of his living room window. He could feel it in his dead still heart.

Something had changed.

Out there in the world scorched by the sun, was something even warmer. And it was so familiar, so tender, he could not mistake it for anything else, or anybody else for that matter.

She was nearby, and the thought filled him to the brim with a joy so potent, tears of relief welled in his wide eyes. He had waited hundreds of years for this moment. For her return. Her rebirth that would usher in his own.

The prospect was so invigorating, he felt as if his heart began to beat again. He never felt so alive. Scurrying back to his bedroom, he sat in front of his vanity to access his appearance. He had to look presentable before meeting her, hadn't he? A bedhead like this and nightwear would simply not do.

Especially when he hadn't cut his hair for at least twenty years.

Giving his long locks of strawberry-blonde a thorough comb, he let it fall straight down to his lower back. With a few quick snips, he shortened his bangs by a few inches to give the impression he had some sort of control over an otherwise uncontrollable mane of hair.

As he shed himself of his robes in exchange for day clothes, a white dress shirt paired with dark plaid pants, one singular thought repeated in his head like a broken record. As morbid as it sounded, it was more of a Godsend than anything.

Death was never the end. Not for her, and not for him. Or rather, a new beginning.

But it didn't start the way he imagined. Following her sweet scent to the gardens of the famed Bran castle, he found the smell growing more and more pungent, albeit confused. It was mixed with another's, tainted by the stench of a human male. His irises thinned to slits, and he tensed up all over. How could this be?

Hiding behind a tree, he peered over the side to confirm his suspicion.

There she was, her beauty as pristine and untouched as the last time he loved her. For just one second, he was over the moon. But his euphoria was short-lived when he saw that she was with a man. Kissing him, even. Even though it was just on the nose, any further down her face would have caused him to start an apocalypse.

That insignificant, trifling, and scheming little creature. He was about to reap what he sowed. How dare he take his place? It was him she was meant to with, not that pesky mortal!

Whipping his head to the front, his eyes went round with disbelief and his breathing grew ragged. An unfathomable ache spread in his chest as he dug his nails into the bark. How could he have let this happen? It took every shred of his willpower to keep the waterworks at bay.

His throbbing heart was also weighed down with a pang of heavy guilt. To allow another soul to be this close to her was a grave disservice to the promise he made. But that didn't mean he couldn't undo this.

In just a few seconds, he formulated an intricate plan to carry out well-deserved revenge. To have her in his arms again, and him, out of the picture where he belonged. In the blink of an eye, he appeared behind the man and tapped him on the shoulder. When he spun around, he grabbed him by the neck and caught him in a trance with his hypnotizing, inhuman gaze.

“You will give these flowers to the nearest young woman you see. Put them in her hair and kiss her on the lips.” Opening his own palm, he materialized three peonies before placing them in the other's.

Unable to escape the powerful snare cast by a vampire such as himself, Daniel did so as told. “I will give these flowers to the nearest young woman I see. I will put them in her hair and kiss her on the lips.” He reiterated monotonously with his eyes glazed over.

Watching the helpless man saunter off, he smirked devilishly as he exchanged glances with his long-lost lover. This would hurt her a great deal, but she would only be devastated if he never did it.

You had been watching the pond, completely ignorant to the scene that was about to unfold. Little did you know, it was purposely orchestrated. Using a stick to prod at your reflection, you lingered on the ripples distorting it before glancing up. In the distance was none other than your boyfriend, and judging from the pink in his hands, he found his flowers.

So you stood up. You would have snuck up on him as a surprise, but your feet remained firmly planted on the ground when you witnessed him give it away, then flirt with another woman. It couldn't be mistaken for anything else. He was kissing her!

Frankly, you couldn't believe it. One year was all it took for him to lose interest? Blood flushed your face as bile rose in your throat. How could he? And during a vacation at that, too! Tears threatened to spill out of your eyes, but you blinked them away when you heard the light treading of feet nearby.

This had to be a misunderstanding. Right?

Spinning to the source, you found yourself staring at the most peculiar man you had ever seen. He carried a delicate parasol to shade him from the sunlight. Combined with his pasty white skin, it was almost as if he was one of the very mythological creatures the country was renowned for.

He smiled gently, almost understandingly.

“Are you alright, domnișoară? I have a spare handkerchief if you'd like.” His alluring voice was as bewitching as a siren, but his mere presence brought you unspeakable comfort. And yet, he was nothing but a stranger, an odd one at that, so you were at a loss to realize that all it took for you to gravitate towards him was for your eyes to meet.

“I'm okay, thank you. But I couldn't possibly accept something like that. I mean, I don't know you...” Waving your hands at the man apologetically, you took the opportunity to scan him up and down.

As if he walked right out of a fairytale, he oozed prince-like charm. His clothes were traditional and refined, but that long, silky hair of his was certainly a rare sight--rare but breathtakingly beautiful. It gave his character untold notions of grandeur, mystery, and an inexplicable impression he was ancient.

But that couldn't be, not when he didn't look a day over twenty.

“What do you mean, you won't take it? It's yours.” He pulled out a small piece of fabric from his sleeve. Placing the finely embroidered cloth into your palm, he never gave you the chance to object. “It would be rude to regift something, so you'll have to keep it forever.” Mischief curled at his lips, and you couldn't help but laugh a little.

“Alright, alright, you got me there.”

You dabbed away the moisture before breathing out a sigh.

“I'm sure you're a very nice person, but I can't bother you more than I already have. Thank you, again, Mr. Vampire.” If it weren't for how heartbroken you were, you would have been mortified. Being pitied by a Romanian local was never part of your plan.

Just when you were betrayed by Daniel, he appeared like a knight in shining armor. If only you could forget what happened between you and your boyfriend. Otherwise, you would be bragging about meeting a vampire in Romania for as long as you could talk.

“Mr. Vampire?” He lifted his head before revealing a pair of sharp fangs in a grin. Now that caught you off guard. “You don't see me calling you miss human--and I have a name, thank you very much.” As he placed his gloved hand on his chest to playfully feign offense, he bit back another smile at the sound of your amused giggling.

Despite what happened a few minutes ago, talking to this actor was making you feel better already.

“And let me guess, is it Alucard?” You shook your head. “Or is it Vlad? You can't possibly call yourself Dracula looking like that.”

He blinked incredulously, then curved an arm over his face as if to cover himself with his non-existent cloak. “How did you know?”

“That your name is Alucard?”

“No, Vlad.”

“Okay, close enough. It was nice meeting you, Vlad, but I have a stupid boyfriend to scream at.” At the mention of that, you looked like you were on the verge of tears again. “All I'm hoping is that he's still my boyfriend after this. If only he were as much of a gentleman as you.”

He reflected your distress in a frown, and you would have been surprised by how much this apparently bothered him. But you already walked off. So he offered one last niceity before you strayed too far. “Good luck with your boyfriend.”

“No promises.”

He let those two words affect him more than he intended. Needless to say, he moved on quickly to watch you run to the unsuspecting brunette. Soon, his anguish was staved off by the sight of you shoving him back a few steps.

What looked like a one-sided argument broke out, and all the poor, confused man could do was just that--be confused. Shortly after, you stormed off, and he jogged behind, desperately calling your name.

A sinister smile cracked at Vlad's lips, and his irises glowed red. That little thing had no idea what was yet to happen to him.

That night, Daniel took you to the Brașov city hall for dinner. The beautiful buildings surrounding a fountain were as traditional as they were clean. Too bad your zeal was burned away by your anger. In the few hours in the hotel before, he barely managed to soothe it by explaining himself. A given, considering his explanation made no sense whatsoever.

He couldn't remember flirting with a woman.

“I think we could share a pizza. Are you okay with that?” Lifting his gaze to meet yours, you only turned away to stare out the window into the endless night. Your spaciness was deserved on his part, but little did he know, it only had so much to do with his wrongdoings.

The eccentric local never left your mind. After all, he gave you something to smile about with his whimsical kindness.

Vlad must have been an entertainer, a virtuoso at that, but his actions never came off as ingenuine. To be frank, you were drawn to his sincerity, and even looking for him subconsciously, wishing that he could magically appear because you willed it.

If only Daniel could be just as sincere.

“I must be okay with a lot of things.” His face fell. The same sorrow from when he was at the hotel room returned, but you couldn't care to give it any attention. “Like you pretending you didn't kiss someone right in front of me because you don't remember. I'm not stupid. Who else would have long hair tied back and flowers in their fringe?”

Daniel knitted his brows so tightly together, creases formed between them. “... I know it sounds like I'm lying, but I swear to you I didn't do it. You know me, (F/N).” At this point, he hadn't the foggiest what to say to appease you because he simply didn't do it. “I promise. All I'm asking is for you to trust me.”

“You promise?” You fumed.

There was only one thing you hated more than a liar.

“I trusted you, Daniel, I really did. But how could you ask me to trust you after I talked to that girl? She remembered it, so why can't you? Did you think I was that crazily into you I could let anything slide?” The biting truth silenced him, but it was the sound of you choking back tears that broke his heart.

“I'm gonna go to the bathroom to think this over.”

He had no way to argue with you, let alone the heart to when it was just broken and crushed to a thin slab of flesh. What if he really did kiss someone, and miraculously forgot?

“When I come back, I better not see you kissing anybody again.”

Standing up at that, he watched you leave with a defeated expression. Then, he folded his arms across the table and buried his face into it. There was no way he could fail that, could he?

What were the odds of kissing someone again when he had absolutely no intention to? The chances were dwindling at zero as he kept his head down. Unless supernatural forces were at work, nothing could get him to budge from sitting at this table.

But even he couldn't count on the world of the mundane to save him.

Sitting a few tables away was the exact opposite of mundane. When the front door slammed shut, he stood up and walked to the customer with their head down. While all the men in the establishment wore their hair short, his was long and flowing like time itself. There was something other-worldly about him. Something ghostly in the way he walked.

With every step he took, his feet never seemed to touch the ground as if he was floating. And his pale complexion was just as macabre as how he carried himself.

Not a minute passed, and Daniel found himself standing outside by the fountain. With absolutely no recollection, he somehow left the restaurant and wound up here in the festive courtyard. As shock paralyzed him from head to toe, the only thought that occurred to him was this. What in the hell was going on?

Rather than sitting head down in the warm restaurant, he was out here, chilled by the biting European cold. Couldn't he have at least remembered the transition?

In front of him was the same woman he supposedly flirted with in the gardens. And judging from the blush on her cheeks, he just threw away all his chances at making up with you.

“Listen, I... I don't know you. Forget me. Forget this ever happened.” Daniel trembled, feeling a chill run down his spine as he staggered back a few steps. It was like a nightmare he couldn't wake up from. There was just no sound explanation for this when this situation wasn't sound at all. Whatever it was, this was clearly a case of sabotage.

And like hell he was giving in to whoever that masterminded it.

He ran back inside with a fearful kind of urgency. Rushing back to the table he unwillingly abandoned, he froze when he saw you marching towards him down the aisle with murder on your mind. But death was too lenient a punishment. It would grant him a clean slate, a new beginning from a past life of unfaithfulness.

So he was splashed with a glass of red wine instead.

As the crimson liquid soaked his hair, it spread over his shirt like blood. After you saw what he did, the last shred of hope you didn't know you had died, squelched out there on his clothes for the world to see. A chorus of gasps was heard from every corner of the restaurant. Unbeknownst to the patrons who murmured amongst themselves, it wasn't just any lover's quarrel they were watching.

Daniel's breath hitched as he struggled to process his mortification. Behind you stood the very gentleman that tapped him awake, but he never made the connection between him and his misfortunes.

And perhaps, it was better that way.

After leaving your boyfriend for good, Vlad offered to walk with you around the city. Once again, he had swooped in to save you, only this time around, he was staying.

“So... What are you gonna do now?” He asked, casting a tender gaze your way. Before you could wrap your arms around yourself, he beat you to it and flung his cloak around your body. When you gawked at him, he only grinned toothily with his fangs.

Your cheeks reddened and you turned away. Why he was still in his vampire getup was beyond you. But seeing his enthusiasm only reminded you that you lost yours. “... Book another hotel room. Spend the rest of this holiday crying. Maybe never think of this country ever again.”

“And I'm not letting you do any of those things.” He hummed, giving you a gentle squeeze. “Why do you think I'm walking with you right now, hm? I'm gonna take you around to the best spots in Transylvania. The most haunted ones, I mean. So you can forget about going back to the hotel.”

You sighed but managed a small smile. “That's great and all, but I'm not made of money. And my stuff is all there.”

He squinted. “... Oh yeah. But after we get your stuff, we can go elsewhere, can't we?”

A few laughs fell from your lips. His generosity really knew no bounds. “Your house, then? You do realize I only met you today, right?”

Vlad closed his eyes. He could beg to differ.

“But you're still walking with me alone. In the dark.”

“Only because you saw me cry twice today. I wouldn't be mad if you killed me so I don't have to be so embarrassed.” He frowned at the sound of that, so you added this. “I was just kidding. Something about you just makes me feel... Strangely comfortable. Like I've met you before. Isn't that weird?”

“... Not really.” Reaching the top of a hill, he stared at an old castle in the distance, sitting high up in the mountains. “There's a legend about this city. Hundreds of years ago, a vampire and a human woman fell in love. She died, of course. But people say he's still around, waiting for her to reincarnate so they can be together again.”

The way he spoke was so sad, it was almost as if he was that very vampire himself. But what did that have to do with you?

“... Okay. Then do you think he'll ever find her?”

Vlad turned to you with an unreadable expression, but there was an untold fondness in how he looked at you.

“He already has.”

#hetalia fanfiction #hetalia fanfic #hetalia x reader #reader insert #x reader #romania x reader #aph romania #hws romania #vampire #yandere #yandere fanfiction #yandere romania #vampire! romania #vampire romania #yandere vampire romania #axis powers hetalia #axis powers ヘタリア #alfredosauce50 #request #supernatural

[loveacrossteyvat]

Birthdays through the years (Diluc x reader)

.........*years ago*.........

You stood in front of the large doors of the Dawn Winery, your hands fiddling with the wrapped box with both nervousness and excitement. You really hope that your best friend Diluc would like the gift. You jumped a little when the door opened, revealing Crepus who saw you and gave a warm smile.

“Ah, you arrived. Diluc has been anxiously waiting for you, (y/n).” Crepus said, opening the door for you. As you walked in, Crepus called out for his son, who immediately ran out from a room. Large red eyes widened with excitement and ran into you to hug you tightly, squishing your cheeks together.

“(y/n)! I’m so happy you came!” He cried out with a big smile. You laughed as well, pulling back a little and petting his fluffy red hair. The two of you left Crepus to head into the dining room where his adopted brother, Kaeya was waiting in and gave you a small wave. Despite being the son of a famous man in Mondstadt, Diluc preferred having small birthdays with his family and best friend. You came from a humble family who worked with Crepus for a time. During that time, you often visited the Dawn Winery with your parents where you met the brothers and became close friends with them. You and Diluc became especially close to which you two never seemed to separate.

“(y/n) look at this. Kaeya and father made me this for my birthday.” Diluc said as the both of you sat down and he pointed to a white cake with red frosting, two slices cut out for the brothers.

“Wow, that looks delicious.” You complimented, causing the blue hair boy to blush shyly. A maid proceeded to cut you a slice so you decided to pass Diluc your present. “Here Diluc. I hope you like it.” Diluc thanked you and took the present, opening it rather quickly. Kaeya peeked over a little as Diluc pulled out a red gem attached through a gold rope. “My mom taught me how to make it. It’s supposed to go around your collar, like a necklace.” You explained, feeling a little nervous as Diluc stared at the present.

“This is really pretty. Thank you, (y/n).” Diluc thanked with a bright smile, immediately relieving you of all the anxiousness you’ve been feeling. 

.........*a few years later*.........

Time passed and much has changed in your life. You started taking a liking to making trinkets and jewellery. You have made a number, including a blue earring for your friend Kaeya, and women started to take notice of them and wanted some for themselves. Thus you became quite well-known in Mondstadt and noticeably grew more independent from the nervous child you were before.

As you busied with your hobby-turned-job, Diluc and Kaeya grew to be strong young men who joined the Knights of Favonius. You knew it was a dream of Diluc considering the number of times you played knights with the two of them. And you were happy to see him rise up well, gaining much respect and admiration among the other knights. Kaeya seemed to have just tagged along with his brother but he too made a name for himself as a man with wits and skills.

Despite not being able to spend as much time together as when you were kids, you and Diluc still had a strong relationship. When you were both free, you would meet on a quiet grassy hill to talk about your lives. Diluc would share about his training with the knights and the people who he has met, including the successor of the Gunnhildr Clan Jean. You shared about the new materials from different regions which you tested making trinkets with, sharing how you would love to travel to those places yourself one day. No matter how tired Diluc was from training, he always seemed to make time for you. You were after all a dear friend of his and he liked the idea of having you involved in his life.

Every time you two talked, you always noticed the red gem hanging around Diluc’s neck. A present from you which he has held dear to all those years. It was just one of the quiet actions which the boy has done to show how much he appreciated your company. Other than that, many have noticed how much happier Diluc seemed when he was with you. Crepus liked to joke about how he felt relieved of leaving the Dawn Winery one day to the both of you, to which made the both of you shy about the thought.

Though, Diluc never once denied it.

Speaking of the Dawn Winery, you were right now decorating the living room for Diluc and Crepus’ arrival. It was Diluc’s coming of age ceremony and you wanted to give him a surprise when he returns home. So you came early and worked with the staff to get everything ready. You headed to the couch where you rummaged through your bag and pulled out a small package. It was a handmade lanyard which you hoped would be useful for Diluc with his new rank as captain. You were thrilled when Diluc shared the news and you immediately went to work on this as your way to say congratulations.

You smiled to yourself and placed the present on the table, waiting with the rest of the staff for the masters of the house. But all of you would have never guessed the horrible incident which would change everything which seemed normal.

.........*current year*.........

It was late at night in the Angel Share and the red hair bartender was cleaning the last of the glasses for the day. He had gotten a good amount of information for his personal mission and was ready to head back home to prepare for his quest. He heard the door opened and was about to remark about the tavern being closed when he saw who was standing by the door and his eyes widened slightly.

“Diluc. I’m glad to catch you before you left.” You said as you pulled down your hood and walked over to the bar seat.

“You know the bar is open during the day, right?” Diluc remarked, placing the glass on the tabletop.

“There’s too many people during that time. This is the only time I can talk to you without anyone bothering us.” You said. Diluc hummed in response and went to the bottle shelf. Meanwhile you quietly observed him, smiling softly. It had been three years since the unfortunate incident and it changed your lives.

Obviously Diluc became more distant and somewhat cold, an irony of his Pyro vision. The death of his father and his leave from the Knights of Favonius made you see him less, sometimes not at all. You tried to reach out to him but something told you to keep your distance for the time being, only showing your silent support on the sides.

It was only when Diluc needed help with a commission and he knew that you usually travelled across lands for your job. He trusted you and let you in on private affairs of his, including his persona as the Darknight Hero. You jumped at the chance to help him in any way you could, which included gathering intel from people of different cities and bringing new materials back to the Dawn Winery.

Because of that, the two of you begun to spend more time together. Your more optimistic nature and light talk of what you’ve seen in your travels slowly broke the walls of Diluc’s heart and the man started to become himself around you. You counted the times he managed a small smile in front of you, being happy with yourself every time he did. 

“How was your trip to Liyue?” Diluc asked as he passed you a glass of your favourite drink.

“It was great. Working with the jewellers there was inspirational. Plus the experience of their culture was a nice refresher.” You answered and took a sip of your drink. “Also, I got some good information about the Abyss.”

“Sounds good. We’ll talk about more about it back in the Winery.” Diluc nodded and said. You both shared a silent moment with short chats for a while before you remembered something.

“I almost forgot. I got you something.” You went through your bag before pulling out a parcel. “It’s a speciality tea from Liyue. I know you don’t like alcohol so I thought you might like to try this.” Diluc took the parcel and a nice natural aroma wafted into his nose.

“It smells good. I’ll have someone make tea for us when we return.” You nodded and hopped over the counter to wash your empty glass. As you were, you jumped a little when strong arms wrapped around your waist and a warm breath hit the crook of your neck. You couldn’t help but smile, knowing how touchy Diluc actually is when in private. And judging by his action, it would seem that someone missed you.

“You know, I only managed to come back this quickly because it’s your birthday tomorrow. I know you don’t see the need to celebrate it but do you think you want to do something special? Just the two of us.” A small smile formed on Diluc’s face and he lifted his head to place a feather-like kiss on your forehead.

“I would really enjoy that.”

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