#( i got his story page written down and finalized i'm so happy )

[awearywritersworld]

do not leave me in this abyss, where i cannot find you

sukuna x reader summary: the higher ups succeed in kidnapping you and sukuna doesn't know if he'll get you back alive. w/c: 2.85k tags/warnings: fluff and angst. reader is kidnapped and gravely injured. depictions of blood. canon typical violence. "good girl". cursing. ft gojo. aged up!yuuji. fem!reader. not canon compliant. no use of y/n. *please mind the warnings for this chapter* a/n: and finally folks, we've reached the climax of the series. there will only be one more official chapter after this one, so i hope this lives up to expectations. this could maybe be read as a stand alone, but it's certainly better when serving as a culmination to the other chapters. i'm a little nervous posting this, so i'd love to hear your thoughts :) series masterlist // masterlist

brontë

sukuna isn't sure at first why the name is familiar, but he soon realizes that a great many of the books on your shelf are authored by women of that name, including jane eyre.

though he finds your copy of wuthering heights, written by an emily brontë, tucked away in the drawer of your nightstand, the headphones you'd asked him grab lying on top of it.

he pulls the book from its spot with care, as the cover is worn and frayed at the edges. flipping through the pages, there are quite a few quotes underlined and countless scribbles in the margins.

while you'd forced him to read jane eyre, he tucks wuthering heights under his arm of his own volition. he isn't sure if it's because you've kept this one separate from the others, or because it might give him an opportunity to know you better, or because he's positive it will make you happy, but he does it all the same.

when he steps back into the living room, he drops your headphones in your lap and takes the seat beside you, wasting no time in beginning the first chapter.

"what've you got there?" you eventually question, even though you know the answer.

he doesn't spare you a glance when he responds, "a book."

"oh, yeah? what kind of book?"

he elects to ignore you, which only serves to encourage your mischievous tone. "i thought romance novels were beneath you and your refined taste."

finally looking at you, he narrows his eyes at your childish taunt. "do you want me to read it or not?"

"of course—"

"then i suggest you be a good girl and behave yourself."

your mouth snaps shut so abruptly that your teeth click as they meet, something sukuna takes note of with a raised brow. you're thankful when he returns to reading rather than saying anything more.

so without any additional interruptions, he delves into the tragic story of heathcliff and catherine. or more precisely, the pain and destruction that follows it.

the further he reads, the better he discerns that while you seem to have a penchant for the brontë sisters, they seem to have a penchant for writing about men that are wicked and callous.

the very notion makes him chuckle.

maybe it explains why he's sitting here with your feet in his lap, while you try and fail (rather cutely) to stifle your giggles at some stupid youtube video.

"what?" you ask, taking out one of your headphones once you notice he's staring at you with a small smile.

"nothing. just enjoying the story."

the way you beam in response makes his mouth go dry.

"hah! i knew it! you're a romantic at heart."

you make a big show of pressing your hands to your chest and swooning.

"settle down there," he chides, his hand patting your thigh. "you're getting ahead of yourself."

two days later, sukuna feels that something isn't quite right. it's barely perceptible, nothing more than a minute shift in the atmosphere, but it grows more palpable as time stretches on.

yuuji's mission takes him farther from home than usual, to a little town about two hours outside of the city.

the curse he exorcises upon his arrival is much weaker than he's grown accustomed to, probably only a third or fourth grade.

yuuji doesn't seem to notice anything out of the ordinary, or at least, he pretends not to. sukuna thinks that's the problem with optimists— they don't take action quickly enough, too busy wasting their time hoping for the best.

when he returns home late that afternoon only to find your apartment door slightly ajar, his hand hesitates before pushing it open.

he discovers that the living room is littered with residuals, but it's eerie how nothing else is out of place... save for you, who is no where to be found.

in a disbelieving panic, he begins checking all the rooms, not hearing sukuna's frantic voice even though it's coming from inside his own head. "she's not here... idiot, she's not here. we have to go. we have to go now."

he eventually finds a note lying on the coffee table, but even this he hardly processes— something about surrendering himself and sukuna to the higher ups at headquarters in exchange for your life.

"listen to me, brat... you're wasting time... idiot!"

"what?" he barks abruptly.

"she isn't far, a couple blocks to the east at most—"

"it doesn't matter. headquarters is to the west. that's where we need to go."

"have you failed to comprehend a single thing i've said about the higher ups?" sukuna sneers. "they'll kill us, then kill her too. she knows too much about jujutsu society. they won't let her live, and that's if she's not... if she isn't already..."

he can't get the word out.

"no... no, they wouldn't..."

"now is not the time for your blind faith in the integrity of others." sukuna tries again and again to assume control of his vessel, and while the force behind it makes yuuji's head pound, it's no use. "for fuck's sake— please, yuuji!"

it's the first time he's heard the curse occupying his body say his actual name or use the word please, and in a strange way, it seems to ground him to some degree.

itadori yuuji has always been uncannily fast, but as soon as he makes his way out onto the street, it's like his feet aren't even touching the pavement. he appears as a blur to the people he passes by and it happens so briefly that they more than likely disregard it as a trick of the light.

the ruby decorating your neck leads them right to you, a low hum of frequency that only sukuna can hear.

yuuji comes to a stop in front of an old warehouse building. there are several wooden boards nailed across the main entrance, which splinter and fall to the earth under the impact of his impatient fist.

although the people down the hall quiet themselves upon hearing the crash, he can still sense their energy. he just can't seem to pick up on yours.

maybe sukuna is wrong? maybe you're not here after all.

"no," comes sukuna's voice, cold and hard. "she's here."

he makes his way down the stretch of hallway and to an open door where he stops, both of his feet planting firmly on the ground. everything appears to be frozen as he stares at ten sorcerers who quietly stare back.

it's clear they were not expecting yuuji, but he knows the higher ups assigned so many sorcerers just in case he did somehow figure out where they brought you.

he recognizes many of their faces and even knows some of their names, their familiarity no doubt intended to discourage him from engaging them.

after a few moments, yuuji's eyes land on your figure— motionless on the floor.

he has to admit, the higher up have put together a fairly sound plan. it's just that there's one small detail they failed to account for.

a curious and constraining sensation erupts from the center of his chest, and yuuji doesn't quite understand what's happening until he registers he's no longer the one in control of his body.

the king of curses remains completely still as he studies you from afar with a slight tilt of his head, his mind refusing to believe the scene right before his eyes.

when the gravity of the situation finally settles in, a gut churning agony blossoms in his stomach and bleeds into every part of his body. every bone. every pore. every vein.

the entirety of him burns, both inside and out.

the air in the room is heavy, overburdened with hostility and raw power. it makes the sorcerers' knees buckle and they nearly collapse beneath the immense pressure.

as sukuna takes a step toward the nearest person, the edges of his vision turn white.

he moves with deadly precision, at a speed which very few people on earth could even begin to comprehend.

it's a joke how quickly it's all over.

some of them are in pieces. others have exploded into nothingness. a few are burnt to ash.

in his haste, sukuna nearly misses the final sorcerer. he's probably the youngest of them all, cowering in the corner of the room. his eyes are wide with horror and his body shakes with fear.

"p-please, spare m-me. i didn't touch her," he sputters out.

the laugh that follows is utterly humorless. "do you actually believe that makes a difference to me?"

"i told t-them not to hurt her! i swear. that's how i got this." he points to his bottom lip, busted open and swollen. "she even told me she was sorry that i got hurt... that i didn't have to defend her."

this gives sukuna pause and his jaw clenches as he considers what you would tell him right now were you conscious.

so even as every fiber of his being screams at him to end the sorcerer's miserable, pathetic life... he restrains himself and pins him to the wall instead, pressing a forearm to his throat.

"go back to the higher ups. go and tell them that if anyone lays a hand on her ever again, i will ruin them," he spits, venom lacing each word. "i'll slaughter every last one of them. i'll level their homes. i'll take everything from them. tell them this is a promise they shouldn't take lightly."

when sukuna takes a step back, the young sorcerer crumbles to the ground. "i- i- i will."

"then get out of my sight," he growls.

returning his attention to you, his demeanor shifts in every respect.

you're going to be okay. you're going to wake up. he's going to take you home and it will be like none of this ever happened.

but when he falls to your side, his knees meeting the ground so brutally that it cracks beneath his weight, his conviction falters.

your blood is spilt onto the concrete. your skin is cold. he can't tell if you're breathing. he can't feel your heartbeat.

he determines that the gash across your side deserves his attention first and his hands tremble as they move to cover it.

he puts every ounce of power he has into his reverse cursed technique, but your eyes don't flutter and your chest doesn't rise nor fall.

his palms stain crimson, and while blood has never bothered him before, the fact that it's yours forces the bile to rise from his stomach and into his throat.

and his face is wet.

why is his face wet?

why are his lips trembling?

why is his vision blurred?

he wipes at his cheeks, leaving a trail of your blood across his face in the process.

"no," he chokes out. "please, don't do this. you're fine. please, you have to be fine. please."

the king of curses begs, but he has no idea who his desperation is directed toward. maybe it's you. maybe it's the gods. maybe it's some entity that's unknowable to him.

hell, maybe it's just whoever will listen to him. there has to be someone out there, right? something.

unbeknownst to him, and poetic in sorrowful sort of a way, his next pleas are reminiscent of heathcliff's after he learns of catherine's death.

"be with me always"

"stay with me, angel. please don't go."

"take any form"

"hate me for this if you want, for being the reason you're in this mess. you can't hate me anymore than i already hate myself."

"drive me mad"

"i'll read every single stupid romance novel on your bookshelf. i promise i'll play all of your ridiculous card games."

"only do not leave me in this abyss, where i cannot find you!"

"just don't leave me here without you. i don't want to be here without you.

"oh, god! it is unutterable!"

"please," he whimpers.

"i cannot live without my life!"

"you're everything. you are everything. you can't leave me with nothing."

"i cannot live without my soul!"

"i love you," sukuna laments. "i love you."

he doesn't even comprehend the words that have been tumbling past his lips, because they're coming from a part of himself that he long believed to be dead and buried.

it's the part of him that can feel suffering and regret and loss and love.

it's the part of him that you've been painstakingly unearthing whenever you send a smile his way. whenever you curl into his side. whenever you press your lips to his.

and he's so undeserving of it each and every time. he's known that. god, has he known that.

he thinks bitterly of the night you'd walked to the park together hand in hand— when you told him the universe had sent you to knock him down a peg.

turns out you were wrong.

the universe gave you to him, but only so it could take you away too.

and it won't just knock him down a peg. it will fucking destroy him. it will completely and irrevocably destroy him.

this is what he does deserve.

how is it that you can be both his salvation and his undoing?

"i love you," he repeats, his voice barely above a whisper.

it's ironic that the three words he's never once said in his entire life are the only ones he can manage in this moment.

he hears a quiet sigh escape your lips, but he knows that it's just his imagination— nothing more than the universe playing its final sick joke.

the sun is out and its rays are peeking through the window of your bedroom. sukuna thinks it's despicable.

everything should be cold and dark today.

you're lying in bed half dead and the only thing keeping sukuna's sanity intact is the shallow rise and fall of your chest.

he should go to jujutsu headquarters and deliver a slow, painful death to every single person involved in yesterday's events. then he should turn their headquarters to ash and stand there watching until the wind blows every last bit away.

but more than that, he should be by your side, so that's where he's remained.

it's been nearly a day and you still haven't woken up, so he's taken to performing reverse cursed technique on you every few hours.

yuuji had shoko come by last night and she assured him your body just needs time, but sukuna doesn't intend on taking any chances. aside from the brat, there isn't a single sorcerer he trusts.

so naturally when gojo teleports directly in the middle of your living room unannounced, sukuna moves swiftly to his feet and blocks the doorway to your room.

gojo regards him nonchalantly, hiding his surprise that yuuji is not the one to greet him. "what are you doing... out and about?"

"that's none of your concern."

"right. well, i came to check in."

"that's not necessary."

the two men watch one another carefully, before gojo eventually chuckles. "god, you actually care about her. i guess the whole soul thing should have been proof enough, but i couldn't bring myself to really believe it until now."

sukuna doesn't respond, so the other man continues. "you should know that the threat to her has been... dealt with."

"that so?" sukuna asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

"mhmmm. word of this spread to the three clans and they agreed civilians have no place in jujutsu politics if it can be helped. not to mention your little... messenger. it all caused quite the ruckus for the higher ups."

"i don't think ruckus is enough to deter them." his tone makes it clear that he feels gojo is wasting his time.

"this isn't the heian era anymore, you know. the higher ups may still be the figureheads of jujutsu society, but they have little say when all three clans concur on a matter." receiving nothing more than a blank stare, he adds, "besides, i'm rather fond of her myself, so i may or may not have made certain threats of my own."

sukuna's eye twitches. "anything else you feel compelled to share before you leave?"

"can i at least see her before i go?" gojo questions, peering over sukuna's shoulder.

"if you do not value your life, i welcome you to try."

a sly grin breaks out on gojo's face.

"eager to make good on your promise of killing me from all those years ago?" he pauses, his hand coming to rest on his chin as if he's pondering something of great importance. "as much as i'd love to see you try, we shouldn't wake our precious sleeping beauty before she's ready, so maybe another time."

with that, he disappears, leaving a very irritated sukuna in his wake.

"our," he repeats under his breath, shaking his head. "that unbearable imbecile."

when he turns on his heel, however, the malicious look is immediately wiped from his face because you're awake.

you're awake and peering at him from behind heavy lids.

"hey," you greet in a small voice.

his eyes grow impossibly soft and he sits on the bed beside you, his hand moving to caress your cheek. your skin is warm again.

"hey, angel."

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[pathetichimbos]

hiiiii

was wondering if you’d like 2 do a quick “where is she” type hurt&comfort prompt with thomas and/or bo!! maybe some victim vs slasher action thatd be funn

Includes: Thomas Hewitt / F!Reader

SFW

TW: Hurt / Comfort / Reader is kidnapped under false pretenses of being 'saved' / Their slasher bf does Not Like That / Canon Typical Violence

…

Hi! Thank you for sending in this ask and I hope you're doing very well.

This... Did not turn out to be a quick drabble, haha. I, as usual, got carried away. When I checked the page count I was at 12 pages and had only written Thomas' part, so there's that. I don't want to overload in one post, or keep you waiting any longer, and I'm currently struggling to write Bo's part at the moment, so I'm going to post Tommy's part for now and update this later with Bo. I welcome any pointers for his character, by the way, I've never written for him lol. Anyways... I hope y'all enjoy!

Quick side note: I just recently reached 300 followers!! Yay!! I'm so excited and happy that you guys enjoy my work <3 I'm going to try and start writing more often so please, send in all your requests! Thank y'all for taking the time to read my stories and follow me, it means the world to me.

Thomas Hewitt:

The Texas air was hot and heavy, as it was in most August days, weighing everything from the birds to the pigs down, not much of anything caring to move about in this heat. Even Hoyt elected to take the day off, currently lounging about on the front porch, beer in hand. Though that wasn't too unusual, at least now he had somewhat of an excuse.

Luda Mae was in town, running the store, today being one of those rare days where she took Monty with her so he could “get his stinkin' ass out of the house”, as she had so graciously put it.

Not even Thomas had a lot to do today, so the two of you were taking advantage of that, currently set up on the living room couch.

You were sitting on the back of the couch, with Thomas situated between your legs, mask off and hair down so you could properly comb through it.

It was late morning by this point, so the strongest wave of heat hadn't come through yet, and you had all the windows open to try and keep the air flowing through the house before it did.

The radio played an old song from its corner, echoing a woman's voice throughout the living room. You hummed along, gently separating another section of hair and spraying a light mist of water over it with a spray bottle so you could carefully brush it without hurting your husband.

Thomas currently had his head leaning against your thigh, partly to give your more access to that side of his head, and partly because he was dozing off from the mix of humming and having you gently work through the knots in his dark curly hair.

You finished brushing out that section, running your fingers from his roots to the tips a couple of time to be sure, before pulling it to the side to place in a loose ponytail with the rest of his untangled hair.

You could start feel the soft, deep rumble as Thomas began to snore, and let out a soft laugh.

He had a habit of falling asleep every-time you brushed his hair, enjoying the close contact and the chance to take his mask off and let his skin breathe.

You let out a soft hum and bent down to place a kiss on his head, rubbing your thumb along his cheekbone as you did.

You pulled back and continued to work, putting in even more effort to be gentle and soft as to not wake him. You carefully moved his head to your other thigh and began to brush the other side of his head, the brush easily combing through the knots, a stark contrast from when you initially started brushing his hair for him a few months ago.

After another fifteen minutes or so, you were finished, and pulled his hair together to give it a final brush through before setting the water bottle and brush to the side, sitting up straight to stretch your back and arms.

Thomas was still gently snoring, face pressed against your inner thigh as he continued his midday nap. You didn't really have the heart to wake him, but your ass was starting to fall asleep and hurt from sitting on the hard surface of the back of the couch, and it was getting close to time to start on lunch.

You let your hands run down his hair and to his shoulders, giving them a gentle but firm rub as you planted a kiss on his temple, speaking softly, “Tommy, baby, wake up. I'm all done.”

Despite what most people would assume, Thomas wasn't too much of a heavy sleeper, especially when he was on the couch, and that little bit was just enough to stir him awake.

He sucked in a shallow breath and let out a yawn, stretching his arms under your legs before hooking them over your thighs, letting his head fall back to look up at you with a sleepy smile.

“Good morning.” You joked with a smile of your own.

He hummed a bit and leaned over, pressing a kiss to your thigh.

“I've gotta start on lunch soon.”

He shut his eyes and let out a soft grunt of disapproval.

“Mhm.” You hummed back, running a hand through his hair again, “And then I've gotta--”

You were cut short by the rigid sound of the telephone ringing from the table behind you.

You sighed and reached around, pulling the base up and into to your lap.

“Hello?” You answered, holding the receiver with your shoulder while you idly played with Thomas' hair.

“Y/N? Could you put Hoyt on?” Luda Mae responded, skipping a greeting as she always did. After all, she's calling her own house, why should she have to say hello?

“'Course, Mama, lemme call for him.” You agreed, covering the receiver with your hand before yelling, “Hoyt, it's for you!”

No response.

“Hoyt?”

Nothing.

“Hoyt!”

Typical.

You reached down and tapped Thomas' shoulder, catching his attention, “Tommy will you go grab Hoyt? I think he's passed out in the rocker out front.”

He let out a disgruntled sigh but stood up, reluctantly sulking out the front door.

“Thomas is goin' to get him now, Mama, I think he fell asleep on the porch again.” You explained into the phone.

“Alright.” She sighed, “Just tell him to hurry up.”

After a few moments you could hear Hoyt yell from the front porch, followed by him stumbling in, still half asleep, with Thomas in tow.

“Phone.” You set the base back down and held out the phone for him to take.

“Who is it?” He slurred out, yet still grabbed the phone.

“It's Mama.”

“What the hell does she want?” He grumbled, before repeating the question to her, “What the hell do you want?”

You silently ushered Thomas over and grabbed his mask before standing straight on the couch to help him put it back on. It wasn't your favorite thing, having your husband hide half of his face, but Hoyt was awfully mean when he was drunk and it made Tommy feel more secure.

“Uh-huh. Alright. Yea. Yea. I'll be there in 'bout half an hour.” You could hear Hoyt finish mumbling and hang up the phone behind you before much too loudly announcing, “Thomas, get ready, we got supper comin' in down at the store!”

Thomas and you both let out a sigh. Well, looks like your day off was cut short.

There was a routine in place for days like these and falling into it was rather easy. You were placed on Hoyt duty, meaning you had to get his sheriff uniform ready to go and Hoyt sobered up enough to drive, and Thomas had to prepare the basement for the arrival of new guests, to put it delicately.

The two of you set to work, Thomas planting a quick kiss to your lips before tucking himself away in the basement, and you sat Hoyt down with a plate of carbs and a large glass of water to try and sober him while you tracked down everything he needed.

By the time you finished finding all of the things he carelessly threw around from the day before, he had sobered up enough that you deemed him safe enough to leave the house.

You assumed you had quite sometime before Hoyt would make it back, so you decided you'd take the time to get a few chores done beforehand, even though you knew it would upset Thomas if he found out.

It was his request that you stay in your shared room when Hoyt brought any new victims home, always worried that something would happen.

Normally, you listened to him, but the longer you waited the more chores would pile up. Besides, it would just take a few minutes.

You started with the dishes from breakfast, what with it being a lazy day and all, you figured you could do them at lunch instead. You had a couple of other things to clean up in the kitchen and finished it off with gathering the trash to take it out on your way to feed some leftover slop to the pigs.

Only an hour and a half. You smiled to yourself as you checked the wall clock, happy that you finished the chores so fast.

You dropped off the bag in the can by the back door and dumped the leftovers into the slop bucket that you kept beside it and made the short walk to the small barn out back where the pigs stayed, passing the chicken coop on the way.

The small pink pigs squealed with delight when they saw you approach, having gotten used to either you or Thomas being the ones to bring them food.

They gathered around the long feed trout that was set up in their pen, happily squealing in anticipation as you dropped the spoiled leftovers into their pen, each of them happily chowing down on the food. You kneeled down and patted one of their backs, one of the females, if her large, very obvious pregnant belly gave any clue. Tommy had noticed a while back that she was pregnant, and you gave extra care in keeping an eye on her.

You cooed after her, ushering her to eat all she could for her and her little babies, gently rubbing her back as she ate.

You sat up after a moment, stretching your back again before standing up and grabbing the slop bucket to carry back to the house.

You cringed when you picked it up, however, this time catching a whiff of the moldy food that caked the sides. Apparently it had been a while since the bucket was washed out.

You carried it out of the barn and to the side where one of the outside hoses sat, turning on the creaky faucet to wash out the bucket.

It was a messy job, and by the end of it, the dirt you once stood on was now mud and your shirt was soaked with a large splash of water. At least it helped cool you down a bit, being out in the heat like this was exhausting and you were already sweating.

You turned the faucet off and shook the bucket out a bit more before the sound of running footsteps caught your attention.

You turned back to the house, only to see a young man you didn't know running straight for you.

You jumped at the sight, taking a step back out of surprise and fear. However, when you did, your shoe hit the mud and you slipped, landing clear on your back and knocking the breath out of you.

You tried to take in a sharp gasp of air, only to be met with pain coursing from your spine to your chest, making it tighten.

You sat up, grasping at your chest and trying to breathe, tears streaming down your face, all while the man finally reached you.

“Hey, hey--!” He called out in a loud whisper, shaking as fear lined his voice and filled his wide eyes.

You shook your head no, pushing yourself back and away from him.

“No, no, it's okay, it's okay,” He raised his hands as he kneeled down, “I-I'm not gonna hurt you, I'm gonna help, I'm gonna help.”

You continued shaking your head and pushing away, desperately trying to breathe so you could scream for Thomas.

He ignored your obvious attempts to get away from him, and grabbed your arm, pulling you up and towards the back of the barn. You finally managed to pull in your first breath, coughing as he continued yanking on your wrist, practically dragging you across the dirt and grass.

There was a second door in the back and he found it easily, pushing you into the barn and towards the ladder to the loft where the hay was kept.

The pigs squealed in surprise, running around in their pen in distress as you tried to fight against the stranger.

“Stop! Leave me alone!” You pushed and pulled against his grip as he tried to shove you up the ladder.

“No, it's okay, I-I'm not one of them, I'm not gonna hurt you--” He ignored your pleas as he spoke over you, “I'm gonna help, I'm gonna help--”

You could feel the old creaky wood bend and groan against your back as he shoved you into the ladder repeatedly, trying to force you up there.

Sharp pain shot through your elbow as it slammed into the wall, finally managing to get your wrist out of his grip.

You ignored the pulsing and shoved him back, freezing when Hoyt's revolver fell from the man's pants.

You thought about diving for it, but he was faster, his hands in the air as he knelt down to pick it up.

“No, don't, don't worry, I- I'm not going to hurt you, I got this, before I ran--” He grabbed the gun and shoved it back into his jeans, “I won't hurt you, I promise.”

How stupid could this man be? Did he still not get it yet?

You were shaking, your racing heart almost loud enough to cover up the sounds of the pigs fearful squeals and Thomas' chainsaw echoing back from the front yard.

There was no way he'd hear you, not all the way back here, and definitely not in time.

You took a shaky breath and silently cursed yourself for reloading that same pistol before sending Hoyt off just earlier today.

Your mind started racing as you tried to think of a plan, your hands grasping at the air, looking him up and down.

He was on the younger side, early twenties at most, splashes of blood covering his open red button up and gray t-shirt. He was blond, making his light five o'clock shadow almost hard to see against his tan skin. His brown eyes were puffy and red, practically shaking with fear, his chest heaving and fists curled at his side.

“We, we've got to hide--” He took two bold steps towards you, “Before they come looking for us.”

You pressed yourself harder against the ladder as he did, taking in a shaky breath and nodding. He didn't know who you were, and you needed to keep it that way until you could escape.

You turned around to face the ladder, the old wood creaking under your weight as you climbed up, pushing the thick wooden door open with a thud before climbing in.

The scratchy hay dug into your knees and hands as you crawled further into the loft, giving the man room to climb in right behind you.

He immediately shut the small door and looked around, “We should put something heavy on the door.”

“B-But what if we need to get out quickly?” You countered, not wanting to make it harder to get out.

“It'll make it harder for them to get in.” He ignored your input and walked over to the nearest bale of hay, “We need to keep them out.”

You watched helplessly as he struggled to drag the heavy bale across the dusty wooden loft, finally falling down with a thud after he managed to cover the door.

“We can wait here until we get a chance to escape.” He crawled his way over to sit beside you, still shaking but seemingly calmer than before.

He swallowed and took in heavy breaths, trying to process the last few hours in his mind as you silently begged whatever god that was willing would help you get out of this alive.

You could've practically jump for joy when the familiar sound of a idling chainsaw and heavy footsteps against the barn floor became apparent against the calming squeals of the pigs down below.

You could almost feel the man tense beside you as he started shaking his head, quietly pushing himself away from the bale of hay that covered the loft door.

“No, no, no, no...” He mumbled to himself quietly, covering his own mouth as he pressed himself into the old wall of the barn.

You looked to the floor, Tommy's footsteps slowly circling around the barn, and felt a firm grip on your arm as the man quietly pulled you back with him.

“Shhhh.” He pressed a finger to his lips and pulled out the revolver, looking back to the bale.

It was your turn to shake your head, lifting your hands as you spoke, “No, no, it's okay, don't--”

He slapped his hand over your mouth as the footsteps stopped.

Thomas looked up, to the loft.

He could've sworn he heard a woman's voice, even over the anxious pig's squeals.

He gripped the chainsaw tighter, confusion overcoming him.

The victim Hoyt sent him after was a man, so, did that mean there were two of them? Had Hoyt somehow overlooked an extra person? It wasn't completely uncommon for him to make such a mistake.

He stayed silent, listening. There were no more sounds now.

He took a step towards the ladder, noticing the mud marks leading in from the open back door, even against the ladder.

The chainsaw weighed heavy in his hands, send vibrations through his fingers as he readjusted it to hold it in one hand.

He grabbed the ladder with his now free hand, the ladder creaking loudly under his weight as he took a couple of steps up, positioning the chainsaw to press against the door.

It didn't budge, so he squeezed the trigger, the chainsaw revving up and cutting through the old wood with ease.

He pressed further, the spinning chain suddenly flinging wood chips and hay back at his face with enough force to actually leave some small scratches on his exposed cheekbones.

He ignored it and moved the chainsaw in different directions, cutting at the hay bale that was apparently left on top to deter him.

Within a few seconds he was able to use the base of the chainsaw to get enough leverage to sling what was left of the door open, the remaining hay flinging to the side with ease.

He pushed himself up, grabbing a hold of the side of the loft's floor to help him balance as he pulled himself up with enough force so he wouldn't get caught off-guard by the two victims undoubtedly waiting for him.

His chainsaw slammed on the loft floor, still rumbling in idle as he stepped into the loft, deep brown eyes darting to the man sitting across from him, to the gun pointed directly at him.

He ignored the threat as he stood up straight, chainsaw tight in his grip.

“Don't come any closer!” His voice was unsteady, his hands shaking.

He took a step.

“S-Stop!” He stuttered over himself, thumb slipping more than once as he pulled the hammer down.

Thomas listened this time, staring the man down.

“Drop the chainsaw.” The man ordered, “Now!” His voice cracked.

Thomas did as he was told, the chainsaw hitting the floor with a loud thud.

“O-Okay, now grab it!” Thomas could hear the floorboards creak as the second victim walked up behind him.

His hand flexed as the footsteps stopped.

He could use her, as leverage, even a shield. All she had to do was reach for it. The moment she did he could grab her.

His eyes darted right and he saw dirty, shaky hands grab the handle.

His hand shot out, catching her with force as he turned.

You screamed, out of surprise and pain as Thomas gripped your wrist with enough force to bruise it.

Confused eyes met yours as he stared, his strong hold loosening out of reflex.

“Let her go!” The man yelled from beside you two, still pointing the gun at your husband.

He did.

He pulled back, fear and hurt in his eyes as he tried to figure out why you were here.

You hated yourself as you picked the chainsaw up, heavy in your grip as you dragged it away from him.

You walked closer to the man, the chainsaw sending vibrations through your hands and to your arms, turning them to jelly. You were unfamiliar with handling the large tool, only ever using it once before when Thomas had taught you how.

The man hurried to stand, still pointing the gun at Thomas.

“H-Here.” You offered, pushing it out to him, “I don't even know how to use this thing, I'll end up hurting myself.”

The man nodded, falling for your lie, “Okay, then you take this,” He shoved the gun towards you, “I can handle that thing.”

You switched weapons, Hoyt's gun feeling much easier to handle in your hands.

It wasn't light, the weapon weighing heavy in your hands as you slammed the butt of it against the man's head, a few drops of blood splattering against your hands and face as he hit the floor.

You turned to Tommy, letting the gun hit the floor as you let out a heavy, shaking sigh.

“Thomas--” You stepped over the man's unconscious body, arms wide as you threw yourself at your husband.

He met you halfway and slung his thick arms around you, clinging to you as he crushed you against his body.

You choked on a sob as you buried your face in his neck, hot tears streaming down your face out of relief.

He pushed his masked cheek against your head, pressing a kiss to your mud caked hair, his eyes squeezing shut as he tried to steady his breath.

He had been ridiculed, relentlessly beaten by bullies, threatened by coworkers, attacked by victims and almost killed dozens of times, but nothing compared to the fear he had when he saw you in that loft.

He couldn't understand why you were there. Had you randomly changed your mind and decided to leave him? After so long? Were you taken against your will, threatened and forced to do these things? Were you hurt, scared, afraid for your life while he was off doing what Hoyt told him to? What would've happened if he hadn't shown up? Did he scare you, or hurt you?

You pulled back just enough to place your hands on his cheeks, Thomas holding you up as you pulled him into a kiss.

You opened your mouth and he deepened the kiss, your hands snaking around his neck and trying to pull him even closer while teeth clashed and tongues fought to explore each other's mouths like teenagers sharing their first kiss.

You sighed through your nose, pressing your forehead to his as you pulled back to look at him.

“I'm so sorry.” You whispered, “I didn't think he'd be back so soon, I- I thought I had more time...”

His brown eyes were filled with fear and relief, feeling like he had almost lost you.

You cupped his masked cheek, letting your eyes flutter shut as you finally felt safe again.

It was a long time before Thomas let you out of his sight after that. He was glued to your side, overprotective and worried for months to come.

You often caught him staring at your deeply bruised wrist while it healed, angry and ashamed that he hurt you.

You constantly reassured him that you weren't angry at him, or scared that he'd do it again. He treated you like glass long after it healed, gentle and afraid, like you'd break into a million pieces if he didn't take extra care in his touches.

Needless to say, it took months before life went back to normal for you two, but after that, anytime any victims were expected, the first thing he did was safely tuck you away in your shared room before anything else.

#slasher fandom #slashers #thomas hewitt #thomas hewitt x s/o #thomas hewitt x reader #thomas hewitt x y/n #thomas hewitt x you #slasher x reader #slasher x you #slasher x y/n #slasher x s/o #Jamie Writes

[wwinterwitch]

questions — joel miller x fem!reader

summary: after a night at the bar, joel walks you home and you finally confess what has been on your mind since the night everything fell apart pairing: joel miller x fem!reader word count: 3.9k warnings and tags: doesn't really follow canon but sill minor spoilers for ep. 6 i guess?, angst with a good ending, alcohol consumption, reader is drunk, joel being joel, miscommunication, sharing feelings go wrong, i'm not used to write angsty fics i'm sorry if this sucks author's note: omg omg happy finale day!! i wrote this listening to question...? by taylor swift so that's what inspired this concept, also this was supposed to be a tiny little blurb idk how we got to almost 4k words but okay i guess

a reblog and/or comment on my posts really help me out as a content creator so thank you in advance if you take the time to do either!

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Before tonight you were fine.

You barely even thought about him in that way. You barely remember the way his skin feels against yours, or the way a simple kiss from him would leave you begging for more. It was like all those nights you two would stay up talking about whatever, his arms around you and your back pressed against his chest, never existed.

Training your heart not to long for him and your brain to keep him out of your thoughts was no easy job at first. It was almost impossible for your body not to want him close. Not being able to talk to him about whatever was on your mind and knowing he no longer will reach out to share even his most profound secrets was absolute torture. Walking next to him all day without being able to reach out for his hand or stop for a quick second just to hold him close to you was a living nightmare that you couldn't wake up from.

Because how could he be so easy to forget? Joel Miller. The first and only person you've fallen in love with. That special someone that opened up a door to a whole new world that you never realized you were dying to discover until he was standing in front of you, his extended hand being an open invitation to walk all these unfamiliar roads and witness the beauty of it all together.

It was new and scary and beautiful. You were addicted to loving him before you even realized exactly what it was. From the moment you were able to put a name to this new feeling he taught you, you vowed to be his for as long as he'll have you- but what a shame it was to realize that the ending to a seemingly long story was already written at the very back of the page.

Perhaps your love blinded you enough to believe he had fallen just as hard, only to realize he was still standing at the edge of the precipice, staring down as you fell into the darkness of the abyss. Perhaps it's the fact that death is all around that makes it impossible for anything to be born. Why would you be able to live a fairytale in the middle of a horror show? What could possibly make you so special?

At least he doesn't seem to be affected by the fact that you two drifted apart. It's not like he's the best at sharing his feelings to other people, his ever-frowning gaze always present in his face no matter the circumstance, but you were still hoping that maybe he cared enough to show you he's hurting even just a little bit.

That should be comforting, right? To know he's perfectly fine and that you never cross his mind in that way. He doesn't have the need to apologize or make it right. He doesn't regret what happened and it never plays back in his head as he curses at himself for not doing things differently. You and your...relationship? are that easy to forget.

No. It's not comforting at all. If anything, it makes everything worse.

You can still remember the night you told him you loved him. A moment in your painfully short history together that you wish you could erase. A disappointing ending to what could've been an absolute masterpiece.

Ellie was already asleep and the two of you were keeping watch. He insisted you should get some sleep but you wanted to stay with him. He wasn't a fan of showing you any type of affection since Ellie joined the two of you, so the nights are the only chance you have to be closer. It was like the moon and stars were your best of friends at that point, because they meant he could finally be yours.

The confession slipped from your lips in a quiet whisper. A simple and timid "I think I'm falling in love with you" was all you offered. It's not hard to remember the way your hands would slightly tremble, or the rapid beating of your heart. It's as unforgettable as the confidence you were feeling because despite being so nervous, you were certain that he'll say it back.

He never did. He didn't say it back that night, or the morning after, or any other morning that followed.

It was embarrassing to look back on it now that you know what happened next. You were snuggled up next to him, one of his arms wrapped around your shoulders. His eyes were fixated on the fireplace that helped to make the chilling air of the night a little more tolerable.

Staring at his handsome complexion without his permission was probably one of your favorite things to do. He had confided in you a couple of times that he couldn't understand why you enjoy it so much. That he's not this breathtaking sight that deserves to be contemplated in the way you do.

Truth is, he's the most hypnotizing sight of all. You didn't care about the roughness of his features or the years visible in the corner of his eyes, hair and beard. He's gorgeous and unique and yours. You could stare at him for hours and never get tired of it.

Like many times before, he caught you staring at him. And just like those times before, he made a gesture that should tell you he disliked that habit of yours, only to be betrayed by the smirk timidly forming on his lips not so long after.

It was then, with his eyes staring back at yours, that the verbal proclamation of your love for him invaded the quietness of the night.

And that's when his smirk magically disappeared. His eyes became dark with something you couldn't quite decipher at the time, still staring back at you but not really. It was clear he wasn't there with you anymore, too lost in his own thoughts to truly acknowledge your presence anymore.

Before you could even think of saying something else, he surprised you with an almost robotic "I think you should get some sleep".

Feeling more heartbroken and confused than ever, you did exactly that. You got up and joined Ellie, cuddling up in your sleeping bag with your back facing him. It's still a mystery to you how you were able to cry yourself to sleep that night without making a sound. How you were able to control the hurricane of emotions after telling the love of your life how you feel and him not caring about it in the slightest.

And suddenly, being in love was still new and scary but it had turned into something horrible.

You had to spend every second of every day with him after that, pretending nothing ever happened. He never brought it up either, so you decided to ignore it to avoid making a fool of yourself again. His reaction was enough to let you know he never really loved you, so you ran with it and tried to continue knowing whatever you two had or could have was no more.

But it was still difficult at times. Ellie kept asking you questions regarding you and Joel even weeks after the incident. She's not stupid. She could see you two weren't exactly friends, no matter how hard Joel tried to convince her otherwise. She's also not someone who settles for made up excuses or half truths, which made her push the subject until she got a good enough answer. That's why she continued coming to you for answers, because she knew he'll never talk about it.

It was only when you explicitly confirmed you two weren't just friends before quickly telling her it was completely over that she eventually let it be. After that, she also started to pretend nothing happened.

Jackson became pretty much the light at the end of a pitch back tunnel you thought was never-ending. You were excited to meet new people and have new things to do during the day, knowing it'll help to keep you busy, forcing Joel out of your head.

It was so exciting in fact, that it helped to make it seem as if the quick "she's the one I've been traveling with" that Joel used to introduce you to his brother wasn't that terrible.

Tommy, who much to your luck was nothing like his big brother, made sure to show you around and introduce you to a few people. He got you a house so you and Ellie could settle in and helped you find a job at the local library, officially starting your new life that didn't revolve around Joel.

In time, you found your place in the commune (as you and Ellie love to call it to tease Tommy). Joel was slowly becoming just a bad chapter in a much bigger story that you started to write for yourself, and you're loving the new plot that's unfolding across the blank pages.

However, all of that progress came crashing down tonight. Tommy's birthday was being celebrated at the local bar and there was no way you would ever miss it. Not only has he become a very good friend, but you also needed the distraction.

The familiar faces, the food and drinks made you forget about Joel's presence for most of the night and you barely made the effort to acknowledge his presence. Without being able to prevent it, your eyes accidentally met for a few seconds. It was almost sickening that everything about that half-a-second-look was so much like a movie. You were laughing at something a friend had said before you finished your third drink of the night, casually scanning the room to catch Joel already looking your way.

He smiled and you barely smiled back before focusing on the conversation with your friends again as if nothing happened. The alcohol might have motivated you enough to just not care anymore. To show him you really couldn't care any less to try to be nice after he was such an asshole when you were completely vulnerable before him.

The idea of not caring seemed tempting. Thinking the alcohol was helping, you continued drinking until you forgot about pretty much everything- which didn't take that long considering your alcohol resistance wasn't that good after a long time without drinking. You don't care about Joel, or the hours passing by, or the fact that you're probably making a complete fool of yourself giggling and dancing with a few friends that are probably as drunk as you are, if not more.

All the hype from being intoxicated started to wear off after a while, becoming more and more sleepy until you were practically dragging your feet towards the exit, putting on your coat and hat to prepare for the cold night outside.

"Looks like you had a good time," you hear Tommy comment in a mocking tone, sending a sympathetic smile your way.

"I did! Thanks for inviting me. And happy birthday to you again!" you exclaim cheerfully. "I hope I didn't make a fool of myself tonight."

"Oh, you definitely did," he mocked, chuckling lightly. "But hey, those dance moves you were pulling off back there? Best birthday gift I'll ever receive."

You looked positively embarrassed after his comment, but managed to laugh it off. "I guess that's good."

"It is," he immediately reassures you. "Let's get you home now, okay?"

"Oh, you don't have to go with me. You can't leave your own birthday party. It's okay, I got it."

"I want to make sure you get home safe. It's fine."

"Tommy, please. You should stay and have fun."

"I won't have fun if I'm worrying about you all night."

"I can take her," you suddenly hear Joel's voice behind you, which immediately made you roll your eyes because you really didn't want him around. He noticed the gesture but didn't seem to care about it in the slightest, putting on his jacket. "I was heading out anyway."

Tommy couldn't have known you really didn't want to be around his older brother, completely unaware of your history with him. Perhaps if you told him, he'll insist on going with you or find someone else that could walk you home. But you never told him what happened, so you're stuck with Joel. "Okay, great. I'll see you guys tomorrow. Thank you for coming," he says, allowing the two of you to leave.

The first few minutes outside in the snow have got to be the most awkward minutes of your entire life.

You tried not to stumble despite still being a bit drunk, not wanting to embarrass yourself in front of him. You're mad that he's here with you and you can't stand being alone with him.

"Did you have fun tonight?"

Oh, and of course he had to open his mouth. Because when has Joel ever done what you want him to do? It seems like he'll always do exactly the opposite of what you expect from him.

"Yes," was all you said.

"Just yes?" he tried again.

"Yes."

You heard him sigh. "So, no talking?"

"I'd really like that, actually."

The tone of your voice would've been enough to make him shut up for the entire walk. Even he seemed to be a little taken aback by the honesty of your answer because you could feel him staring at you for longer than usual before he focused on his boots as they left marks on the snow.

He didn't ask what was wrong because deep down he must've known. He can't not know. And in that drunken state you allowed yourself to be pity as you wished that he thinks about it every single day. That it tortures him. That he despises himself for breaking your heart and not doing something to make it right. That he looks back on it and hopes that he could go back.

But does he? Does he actually think about it every single day? Does he regret what happened? And if he does, why is he not trying to say he's sorry? Does he even want to say something at all?

It was almost as if the alcohol betrayed you. Or maybe it was your head that just allowed every barrier you have built these past few weeks to crumble down. Not caring turned into caring way too much and it was like you couldn't stop thinking about a hundred questions without being able to find a single answer to any of them.

Joel turns to look at you once again when he notices you stopped walking. Your head is spinning as more and more questions fill up your mind and you get frustrated because you know there's only one person who has all the answers.

Should you say something? Should you make a fool of yourself once again? It shouldn't be you. Why is he not doing something? How come you're the one who has to speak up about this? It's not fair.

But it was late, cold and you were just so drunk. And you know that no matter how much you try to move on, you'll never be truly okay until you hear an explanation as to why he broke your heart in such a vicious way. Even if he lies or tries to sugarcoat it, you deserve even the tiniest of explanations.

"Is everything okay?" he eventually asks, which only frustrates you more.

"Do you ever think about that night?" you let out almost immediately after, feeling the way your heart was beating faster than ever. As fast as the time you confessed your love for him.

He was quiet, so you decided to continue. "Do you ever wish you could go back and change the way it ended? Does...does it ever cross your mind or you seriously don't care?"

After those questions, Joel seemed to finally react. "Are we seriously doing this now?"

"If not now, when? You were clearly not going to say anything," you accused him, leaving him completely defenseless because he was very much avoiding ever bringing this up and you just called him out on it. "I just need to know why, Joel."

"I don't- let's get you home, okay?"

"Stop doing that! Stop trying to avoid this!" you exclaimed with obvious exasperation, feeling the corner of your eyes burning due to the tears that would surely roll down your cheeks at any point. "I was in love with you and you weren't decent enough to at least tell me you didn't feel the same way! Don't you think I deserved at least that?"

"We can talk about this tomorrow..."

"No, fuck that. I waited long enough," you quickly interrupted. "I was so patient with you. I gave you your space when you said you weren't sure about us, I respected your decision of being discreet in front of Ellie, I stood up for you countless of times when I shouldn't have. I did so much for you and you can't even look me in the eye and give me an explanation!"

"It's not-"

"You've got to be the biggest asshole I've ever met. And you know what's the worst part of this? That I'm still expecting shit from you. I still hope that you'll say you're sorry for breaking my heart and acting like you never did something wrong. I'm so fucking stupid to believe that you actually-"

"I was afraid!" he practically shouted, hoping that would stop your rambling. It seemed to work, because you were silent as soon as he said that. "There. Are you happy?"

"Don't put this on me," you immediately snap back.

Joel sighs yet again and takes a second to calm down, knowing that if he gets defensive this will end much worse. It's time to accept he fucked up and stop trying to act like he didn't.

"I'm sorry," he finally said. "For this and for what I said that night. I should've been honest with you."

Now it was you the one who was silent, taken aback by his reaction. Usually, he'll try to come on top by creating any type of argument until he's able to get the last word. An actual apology was definitely not something you were expecting.

"I don't like people. I keep my distance and everyone else stay away from me in return. I like distance," he explains. "But then you came along and it was impossible to stay away. No matter how hard I tried, I'd always come back to you. I started to need you and it was scary because I should be keeping my distance."

Silence. Absolute silence. You were surprised to hear him being so honest with you, but you were also feeling a bit nostalgic because deep down you missed being the person Joel would go to when he needed someone to talk to. Even when it was difficult for him to open up, he always tried his best to rely on you whenever he needed it. Needless to say, it made you feel very special.

"When you said you loved me I didn't know what to do. It felt so...definitive. Because I knew that deep down I was falling for you too and if I said something that'd mean I'd never be able to let you go. And it was so scary to think of giving in to that feeling because...because I couldn't allow myself to care again."

You knew exactly what he meant by that. His daughter is not a topic he particularly enjoys bringing up, but you've heard a few things about her. And honestly, you couldn't really blame him for being scared. Despite all these years, losing his kid in the way he did has got to be the worst pain he'll ever experience. Of course he'll want to run away in the opposite direction when he starts seeing the similarities.

It doesn't excuse the fact that he avoided you, but you would never pretend like his feelings weren't valid.

He was scared of loving you because with love comes the inevitable attachment to that person forever. You care so deeply, the mere idea of ever losing that person shatters your world completely. And he knows what that loss feels like. He couldn't experience that again.

"Besides, you know me. You know I'm a mess. I couldn't let you ruin your life by loving me, because I'd just let you down- which I did, so I was right. So instead of saying something, I just said what I thought would help to make you not love me anymore. If I couldn't keep my distance, I had to do something so you'll want to stay away from me."

Once again, Joel was doing exactly the opposite of what you expected. He poured his heart out to you, sounding so honest and vulnerable. You've only heard him being this sincere whenever he would mention Sarah or that one time when you both stayed up talking in depth about your relationship with Ellie.

Tears started to roll down your cheeks as predicted as you stared at him. You don't know whether to hug him or punch him at this point.

"You're such an asshole," was all you could say.

The comment made him chuckle, but it was evident he was holding back his own tears. "I know."

"But that's exactly why I loved you. I know what you've been through, I knew you were a challenge and I was willing to work on it for as long as it would take us. The decision of whether I wanted to love you or not was never yours to make."

"I was trying to save you from having to deal with me."

"What if I didn't want to be saved?"

"Well, I think it's already too late for that," he replied. There was another pause that encouraged him to ask, "Is it? Too late?"

"I don't know," you replied. It was the truth.

"I can work with I don't know."

"What does that mean?" you asked curiously, wiping your tears away.

"It means I'm willing to make it right this time," he replied. "If you let me."

You frowned just a little, failing to hold back the smile that appeared on your face just seconds later. "You know you'll have to really try if you want to fix this, right?"

"I know. It's okay. You're worth it."

So far, so good, you thought.

"This means no more hiding, no more trying to push me away, talking about your feelings..."

"I can handle it."

"Can you?" you asked in a much more serious tone. It sucked not being able to fully trust his word, but you both know you had your reasons not to. "I just don't want to get my hopes up again over nothing."

You watched as Joel took a step closer to you, reaching out to grab one of your hands. He examines your face, making sure you're okay with him touching you before he brings it up to his lips, gently kissing your knuckles. "I promise you this time will be different," he says, and he's looking at you with so much affection, it's impossible not to trust him.

#joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller #joel miller angst #pedro pascal characters

[saltsicklover]

Title: The First Official Letter - Fan Mail Pt. 3

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2900

Rating: T

Warnings: Depictions of blood, mentions of killing, angst, mentions of hangovers. Swearing. Soft Steve.

-- To be continued. I hope you enjoy! Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list :) --

This story now contains a lesbian couple, OCs, and this is a PRO LGBTQIA+ Page. If you do not support or cannot be kind, you can kindly get the fuck off my page and get your free media somewhere else. NO TERFS, NO HOMOPHOBIA, NO HATE. Happy Pride Month!

Disclaimer: I do not own Bucky Barnes, or anything related to Marvel within this piece. Not Proof Read or BETA'd. All mistakes are my own.

I do not consent for my work to be edited, reposted, or translated.

You are responsible for your own media consumption. This is a work of fiction that may contain mature themes. If you are sensitive to those subjects, please do not read.

Maybe Bucky shouldn't have written at all. The thought swam around Bucky's mind for weeks. Since the moment he ran down to the mail room, the elevator taking much too long for his liking, and attempted to sweet talk the lady behind the desk. She did not allude to the fact that both Steve and Sam were hiding in her office.

Steve and Sam made it to the mail office the first thing the morning after the bar, Steve more or less dragging a very hungover Sam behind him. Steve insisted that he saw Bucky's letter in the 'Outgoing Mail' pile on the kitchen countertop when he got up to get a glass of water that night, but the pile was gone this morning. And if Steve knows Bucky like he thinks he does, and he does, the moment Bucky wakes up he is going to try and get that letter back. 

The boys made it to the mailroom with only a few moments to spare before Bucky came running down the hall. Steve only got a couple of words in before they both shoved into the small office, pushing their backs up against the door as to not be seen from the other side of the service window. 

"Hi, uhh, hello," Bucky  huffs a bit, a hand coming up to slick back his bangs from his forehead. "I mailed a letter, and I would like it back," The woman behind the window does her best not to snicker at his words, her eyes casting a quick glance over to the men currently hiding only a few feet from her. 

"I'm sorry sir, but once letters have been mailed they cannot be unmailed," She speaks, her eyes not leaving her computer. She worries that if she looks at him, she won't be able to keep from laughing at the whole situation. Working in the tower always comes with antics by the hands of the Avengers, but the trouble they get into is always a bit surprising.  

"Please, Miss," Bucky's eyes flash down to her nametag than quickly back up to her face, "Miss Brown, I really do need that letter back," 

"I am sorry, but I cannot release any mail once it makes it this far. Once it is in this office, it is stamped and sent on its way to the post office. You will, however, get it back if it is marked returned to sender," Miss Brown finally looks at him, biting her tongue a bit to keep her composure. 

"Are you absolutely sure there is nothing I can do?" Bucky's tone boarders on begging now but he does his best to flash her his best puppy dog eyes, the same ones that used to get any girl he set his sights on. Steve elbows Sam hard in the ribs to subdue his snickering. 

"Excuse you, but I am old enough to be your mother, you better not be propositioning me, young man," Miss Brown scolds at him with a pointed finger and Sam has to clasp his hand over Steve's mouth to keep his laughter from giving them away. Tears peak at Sam's eyes as he fights to keep back his own roar of laughter. 

Bucky sulks away a moment later, and when he is out of sight Miss Brown turns to the two large men who have fallen to the floor with laughter, tears streaming down their faces. 

"And what are you two laughing so hard about?" She questions, looking down at them from her seat. The men try and regain composure, they really do, but each time they look at each other they burst into another fit of laughs. They aren't laughing at Bucky, of course not. They are laughing at just how precisely well Steve knows Bucky, and at the way Miss Brown was so quick to put Bucky right into his place. That was two weeks ago. 

Now, Bucky almost falls out of the elevator due to exhaustion. There is a thick layer of sweat holding caked mud onto his skin, the dirt already worked deep into the fabric of his tactical uniform. Chunky pieces of earth fall off his boots as he trudges through the main living area of the compound, leaving a trail behind him with each step. 

The mission went to hell in a handbasket. From the moment he stepped foot off the helicopter it seemed like everything was going wrong. Between jammed guns and twice as many Hydra goons as originally thought, Bucky was in over his head. "Leave no bodies" behind turned into a a trail; one that left Bucky feeling queasy and on edge from the moment he crawled back into the helicopter at the extraction point. He wasn't even fortunate enough to collect the data he was sent out to get, the whole operation came up dry. 

Agent Hill tried to assure him during his debrief that it wasn't a total loss- one less Hydra agent on the street meant the world was a little safer and with the amount of firepower that Bucky bestowed upon them, that sliver of the world is looking a lot safer. This knowledge did nothing to calm the stir of sickness that flows under Bucky's skin. The only thing that is keeping him going is the thought of the ice cold shower waiting for him at the end of it, so he continues to trudge past his friends in the kitchen. 

"Hey, Buck," Steve calls after his friend. Bucky doesn't stop moving towards his quarters. 

"Bucky!" Sam calls, shooting a glance Steve's way, confusion written over both of their features. 

Bucky wasn't going to stop, he really wasn't. The promise of cold water easing his muscles and the image of the blood and dirt running from his skin, swirling down the drain is too enticing, the thought itself cathartic, but Steve's words manage to have him halting mid-step. 

"You have mail, Buck," Steve's voice caries down the hall, "Its two letters, and they are pretty thick," Bucky turns now, an eyebrow raised in curiosity. 

"You look like hell," Sam mutters when Bucky rounds the corner into the kitchen. Bucky sends him a glair that could shake the heavens but doesn't say a word. 

"Here you go," Steve holds out two envelopes for Bucky, both stuffed full. Bucky doesn't waste a second before ripping into the top one, small tight script on the back reading "Open First". He takes the letter out of the envelope, his eyes drawing over the words quickly.

"Dear James- Bucky, Dear Bucky, I can't even begin to explain how happy I was when I came home to find your letter in my mailbox. I couldn't even contain my joy, if we are being honest. I'm not exactly sure how to go about writing to you now, even though I was the one who proposed being pen pals so I guess I am just going to ask you some questions and maybe you can answer them on your letter back? Only if you want to, of course. 

Is it possible to come off as nervous through written word? Because I am positively nervous. I feel like it may be silly to ask, but what do you do for work? I know you are an Avenger, but that means you have exciting stories, right?  What do you like to do when you have free time? Do you have a favorite song?

I guess I should tell you a little more about myself. After my grandparents were killed, I was moved into a house with a lovely couple. Jan, my Ma, is the sweetest woman. She loves to cook and bake. She used to sew my clothes when I was a kid, and she always made us matching outfits, for her, my Mom and I. My Mom, Dottie, is a mechanic. Her specialty is motorcycles. She and my Ma have been in a local club for longer than I have been alive. They do charity events and fundraiser drives. They are really wonderful. 

When I first came to live with them I really wasn't sure what my life was going to look like, but they took me in and loved me like I was their own. It really made a difference in my life and I couldn't be more thankful that I get to call them my family. After I got out of  high school, I went to a really fancy school to become a barber. The school was snobby and the people there took themselves way too seriously but I love my work. I work out of a little shop in Hell's Kitchen called "Sargent's English Traditional". We call the shop "The Set". It's quaint, really. 

Anyway, I sent along another envelope with this one, and it contains some bits and bobs to help you get to know me. I hope to hear from you soon, Bucky.

Warmest Regards-" 

Bucky can't help the smile that he wears as his eyes fall over the words. There is still a part of him that cant believe that someone is taking time out of their life to write to him. He tries not to dwell on that fact, a bit of excitement blooming in his stomach. 

"What's it say, pal?" Steve nudges Bucky's shoulder. 

"It seems my pen pal is a barber," Bucky smirks, "And they work in Hell's Kitchen," 

"What's the other envelope?" Sam asks, bringing his drink to his lips. Bucky turns his attention back to the other letter, a small, yellow, manilla envelope lined with bubble wrap, ripping it open carefully. He dumps the contents out on to the countertop. Bucky begins to flip everything face up, not looking at each piece too long before moving to the next. 

"What is all this stuff?" Steve inquires, leaning closer to the small collage of items on the table. He reaches forward and picks up a flattened coin, the face of the coin distorted and warped along with the metal. Sam picks up a different item, a set of three pearl buttons. He fingers them around his hand, looking at the delicate pearls from every angle. There are other items too, plants that were once pressed between pages of a book and a ticket stub from a local jazz show. There were pieces of paper with poetry written across them in small neat handwriting and clippings from magazines. 

Bucky didn't care about any of it, nor the list that was included that described each item and their meaning, he just didn't care. Instead, he reaches for the polaroid photo that peaks out of the discarded envelope, the corner still stuck on the tack strip that once held the letter closed. He holds it face down for a moment, the realization that there could be anything depicted on the other side sets his lungs ablaze. With a deep breath he tries to fan the fire that burns behind his ribs- he flips the photo. 

His action catches the attention of Sam and Steve, their eyes quickly jumping from the other objects to the photo that seems to be dwarfed by Bucky's large hand. Their eyes each map over the photo, taking in each individual detail. 

The black and white photograph contains a large brick building, the photo taken from street view. There are plants on the front stoop and clothing lines hanging from windows that string out of frame. There is a caption written on the bottom in red pen, one simple word accented with a heart, "home". 

Both Steve and Bucky come to a stop, their eyes locked on the photograph. Bucky's senses are overtaken by the sweat that seems to slick over his body in an instant, mixing with the grimes that is already stuck to his skin. He flashes hot then cold, a shiver running down his spine. 

He couldn't care less about the mission anymore, the lives he had to take or the blood that is buried deep under his fingernails. He doesn't care about how he almost fell out of the elevator or about the cold shower he swore he would stand in until he lost track of time. All that matters now is this, the photo in his hand and the sender that made this moment happen. 

Sam looks back and fourth between the two, reading a sort of sick nostalgia written across both men's faces. 

"What exactly are we looking at?" Sam asks, his voice low. 

"Home," Bucky and Steve both whisper, eyes coming up to meet each other. 

"That's where we used to live, right before I got shipped out," Bucky's voice is no louder than a whisper and it wavers a bit with each word. 

"You technically didn't live there," Steve interjects, his voice only a hair louder than his friends. "You still lived with your Ma and your sisters. It was my place, but he was there so often we were basically roommates." 

Sam acknowledges Steve, listening to his story but Bucky can't seem to take his eyes off of the brick building. He never thought he would see it again, usually avoiding it when he is in that part of town. It was a part of his story he wasn't ready to revisit. He has seen his family home and other important places from before the war, but this building was not a place he was ready to bring into the twenty first century. 

Maybe he wanted to leave the memories preserved. If he didn't go back, the bubble of time would exist in his brain and everything would be left untouched. He liked it that way. A part of his life he deemed perfect, untouched by the claws of Hydra. If he left it there, pristine and sparkling, it would live on that way forever. 

But here it is, encapsulated in black and white, staring back at him. Maybe a part of him knew he wouldn't be able to escape it, the knowledge that it would change with time, just like he did, just like everything. 

"Buck, you might want to look at this," Steve holds out a piece of paper, the list and descriptions of the items in the envelope. Bucky takes it with a shaky hand. He rakes his eyes down the list, looking for a description for the photo. He finds it under number seven. 

"This is my building in Brooklyn! I think it's a beautiful piece of architecture and I just wanted to share! My Ma helped me find it in an old school newspaper ad. I have lived here for two years now and has been wonderful! The windows are original and they have a habit of getting stuck to prove it. The woodwork is original too, there is even a height tracker that was kept in one of the closets, the pencil marks and initials are still there! SR, JR, SGR, and JBB. I hope they were happy here." 

"Do you really think that could be possible?" Steve asks, his eyes on his best friend. 

"At this point, I am willing to believe anything," Bucky answers back. It's like they can communicate in half thoughts, leaving out the meat of the conversation, instead communicating it in a way that only they know.

"Does someone want to fill me in here?" Sam questions, trying to read the paper upside down. 

"Bucky's pen pal lives in the building I grew up in with my parents, and by the description, they might even live in my old apartment." Steve explains. Bucky looks up but doesn't reach either mans eyes. 

"Just when I thought this couldn't get more interesting," Sam whispers, more to the room than to his friends. They stand there for awhile, silence enveloping them like a heap of fresh snow. Sam and Steve shared glances, not sure how to best support their friend. 

After a little while, Sam pulls the photo and the paper from Bucky's hands, setting them on the table. Steve takes Bucky by the arm and walks him to his quarters, whispering in words that Sam can't quite hear.  Sam collects the mail, putting all of the trinkets back into their original place before setting them back down. 

Steve brings Bucky to the bathroom, helping him strip of his tactical gear. He brushes hair from his forehead attempting to keep the blood soaked strands out of his face. He turns the shower on, warmer than Bucky would have done himself, if he could have, but he gets into the shower anyway. Steve stands with his back against the closed bathroom door, his shoulders square, jaw set. 

He is swimming in his own feelings but he pushes past the waves instead standing guard for Bucky, keeping the demons of his past at bay while the other man roughly scrubs away the mission from his skin. The dirt, the blood, the remains of his perfect fucking memory. Bucky scrubs his skin raw until its red and weeping. 

Bucky lets out a sob, one he barely seems to notice and one Steve definitely doesn't comment on. When Bucky finally draws back the curtain, his face is swollen, tears hidden behind the water that drips from the ends of his now clean hair. The men do not speak, instead Steve lets Bucky pass. 

He is off to write a letter. He is sure this time around, no room for maybe. 

TAG LIST 

@vicmc624 @cjand10 @songoficecreamandfireworks @crazymusicgirl104

#bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fluff #marvel x reader #bucky barnes angst #avengers x reader #bucky barnes x fem reader #james buchanan barnes #Bucky Barnes Slow Burn

[justagalwhowrites]

I'm so curious what is your writing process like? I'm floored by how fast you write yet the quality is always sososo high. Do you have a beta? Are you a god? What..how..😱

Please get some sleep

Ahhhh Hi Bestie!

Um you're so sweet???? This is so nice??? Thank you so much??????

TO ANSWER YOUR QUESTION

....probably don't fully approach writing like I do if you're trying to write because I approach it like a trash goblin in a human suit trying to make things BUT here's what I do!

When I get the idea for a story (fan fic, novel, screenplay, whatever) it usually comes character first. There's someone who intrigues the hell out of me whose story I want to write and then I just have to figure out what their story is. The second part usually comes pretty quick, at least one or two major story moments and the climax and the resolution at least. Then I think through how to get them there and what kind of journey is going to be the most impactful for them. Then I write that down in the form of a story map where I lay things out beat by beat (these notes are usually very vague, like 2 or 3 words per chapter, my vision is far from fully realized) and then write down some basic stuff about the main characters. Actually write it, too, I've got a real cute lil' notebook that I have my story notes and any poems I've written lately (and my D&D notes) in it and I carry it around everywhere when my brain is feeling particularly creative.

This is where the trash goblin takes over because then I just write it. The story map is pretty fluid, I don't think I've ever stuck to one entirely, it always shifts and changes depending on what I get up to narratively. Sometimes that's just story beats stretch longer than I thought so they span several chapters instead of one, sometimes I change my mind on something altogether (like in Yearling, the stable incident with Simon was originally something else entirely but I was like "wait no that doesn't make as much sense, this feels convoluted, doing something else now" and took place in a slightly different spot). When I'm writing, I kind of picture what happens in my head like I'm watching a movie. The characters have their conversations, I write those down, describe how they're feeling, what stuff looks like, etc. The downside to this is the movie of this shit is literally ALWAYS ON in my head and will NOT go away until I write it. The angst that's coming in Yearling? Been playing in my head on a loop for weeks. IT'S DRIVING ME INSANE SEND HELP.

Once I get a chapter done, I give it a quick read mostly for grammar and stuff and to make sure it flows right (and there aren't a bunch of repeated words and stuff - I was a copy editor previously in my career but copy editing your own stuff is tricky so this is a questionable process) and then I post it. No betas, no editors besides myself, generally very little rewrites (I'll rewrite a chunk of a chapter once every like 20 chapters or so, it's rare.) I just throw all these words on the page and then hurl them at y'all and you're kind enough to make super sweet comments like this!

I'm so happy you think my work is high quality and written quickly!! I think I've finally adjusted from the schedule I was keeping for Lavender so it no longer feels like I'm slacking only putting out 2-3 chapters a week but it still doesn't feel like I'm quick lol so thank you for that, too!

And as far as the sleep goes? You saw nothing, definitely not me posting at 3 a.m., don't tell my therapist, everything is fine here.

JK I'm largely just fine! I've always been a night owl and function fine as long as I get a total of 6 hours of sleep, even if that's between a nap and an overnight sleep. It's probably not the best but eh, I'm having fun.

Thank you again for reading and for being so kind!! So happy you're here. Love you!!

#fanfic #kit answers #send asks #writing

[dunetevenn]

Hi everyone

A bit of a long-ish post today because I wanted to talk about my selfship/AU of the 2000 italian kid cartoon called «Monster Mash» (I already shared the sketch earlier on this blog but I finally finished it)

If you don't know the original movie (you can find it on youtube or on archives.org in better quality), here's the wikipedia page (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Monster_Mash_(2000_film))

So it was one of my favorite childhood movie for years, and around halloween I got back to it, being focused on the movie for a few weeks (I still love it and watch it sometimes now). And it kinda revived my affection for one of the character (Drac), who was a huge crush of mine when I was a kid.

I created a quick self-insert for the original universe, but my mind quickly got interested in a few AUs. While I didn't do any art for the main universe or for my second AU, I was more invested into my Vampire Hunter storyline, which I'm about to tell you about in this post. If you just want the drawing it's okay, thanks for the attention

PS: pose base/inspiration by AdorkaStock "Frienemies" (https://www.deviantart.com/adorkastock/art/Frienemies-926193644)

So the context of this AU is the following:

There was always tension between monsters and humans, and one day a battle finally exploded, lasting for years. The monsters have been significantly numbered down by the humans, but they are still fighting. They're just staying hidden for the moment, plotting to get their revenge and imprisoned members free.

My character is named Swan (they/he). They're a monster hunter, recruted by the King (at least that's the version Swann is allowed to tell) to kill the last vampires in the kingdom. Amongst these vampires, their King, Drac, is the main target. Why vampires in particular? Well, strangely nobody really knows.

Swann is sent to track them down, which he does, and makes a first attempt to fight Drac. It failed, since the king of vampires was aware of a potential personal attack from the human king. But Swann doesn't give up. They're trying to get the closest possible to Drac, without his guards around. Once they manage to meet alone, Swann makes a suggestion to Drac: they cannot leave the vampires free here, but they can pretend to win the mission by helping them escape the kingdom and keeping the secret. Drac was surprised, but refused. He and the other monsters will stay and fight back. Swann tries to convince him, making it clear that they don't want to participate more in the massacre. Sadly, with the uncooperation of the vampire king, they have no other choice but keep fighting until one of them wins. However, this encounter changed something, making Drac more curious about this strange decision from someone sent to kill them, and already killed multiple monsters. They kept fighting, but it was less with the actual intention to end lives and more with a desperate attempt to make them go away. The big turn was when Swann saved Drac's life, from a guard of the human king trying to get recognition as a hero. Before the crucifix could hit his chest, Swann swooped in and attacked the guard. By seeing them, the guard was menacing to warn the king about the betrayal, but he was quickly shut down by the duo and sent to the other vampires.

Drac kept the incident secret from the other vampires, at Swann's demand. But this night, they actually became friends. And, this friendship evolved, hiding behind the fights, hiding from both humans and vampires, even from other monsters. Developping a secret romance, never claimed by words, but affirmated by the nights they starting spending intimately (ah yeah s3x plays a huge part in their love story).

And there you have it, a very quick explaination of what this Vampire Hunter story is. Hope it wasn't too badly written, because I know my writing sucks (that's why I never write fanfictions).

Anyway, if you read everything, I'm really happy that you took the time for it, and if you didn't, that's fine it's still nice that you stopped by even if it was just for the art.

#artists on tumblr #traditional art #drawing #art #self insert #self ship #monster mash 2000 #drac monster mash #au #self insert x canon #self ship community #self insert x fictional other #strike of dagger and fang

[bluestar22x]

Whole Lot Of Leavin

The Writing Contest - Chapter 3: Whole Lot Of Leavin'

Summary: When Nora and Javi finish their script, it's time to say goodbye [for now].

Pairing: Javi Gutierrez x Female!OC (Nora Delaine)

Rating: 18+ Series

Word Count: 2,300 (ish)

Warnings: Romantic angst

Author’s Note: Nearly made myself cry and this isn't even the last of the angst. This being kind of a bridge chapter I decided I'd write it and post an update way sooner than usual.

xxx

"Life with you is never too painful or too dull, angel. It was true forty years ago, and it is now. Your insights, the way you see the world drew me in, and has kept me. My life was anguished and boring before you, not after. I'll never see it any other way. You showed me what it was to live a meaningful life and that's all I could ask for."

You grinned and clapped enthusiastically as Javi dramatically finished reading the last line of your screenplay from the page you'd printed up and bowed comically after, grinning right back at you, an expression that made your heart flutter.

"I think we've done it," he said brightly.

"I think we have too," you agreed. "I cannot imagine any other way to end it. Angie and Nolan being happy in their old age, despite their past hardships, because they have each other. It's romantic in the highest degree, but it's also real. Their lives were far from perfect, but they were perfect for each other."

"You are a poet," Javi declared proudly. "I could not have worded it better myself!"

"You're a bit of one yourself," you told him, a smile tugging at your lips. He was cute when he got excited. "I liked that 'has kept me' bit. It might be bordering too poetic for a modern movie, but what the hell, it's perfect. And Nolan is a sap so it checks out."

Javi chuckled. "Maybe so, but I quite relate to him in some ways."

"Mmmm, the troubled family?"

"For one," he said somberly, though he did not go on to list other similarities they had.

Great going, Nora, you thought, regretting bringing it up. You knew his family was a touchy subject. You should've known better.

You cleared your throat to take the awkwardness out of the moment. "So, how do you feel having written your first real romantic script?"

"Like I want to do it all over again," he told you, his positive energy rejuvenating as soon as you'd gotten the question out. "I always feel that way after I complete a story, but this one is extra special."

"Please," you said, brushing off his comment, “There are one hundred other stories just like it."

"Just like, but not quite," he argued passionately. "Yours is more compelling than any romance I've read or seen in a long time."

"Ours," you corrected him.

"Ours," Javi repeated, "Yes, the details are ours. But it was always your creation, Nora."

You nodded, not sure how to respond to that. Maybe you didn't need to say anything, but not doing so was foreign to you. You weren't used to easily accepting praise. Most of the time you didn't feel worthy of it, doubt a constant friend in your life, a toxic one who always knocked down your sails.

"So, we've got our final draft," you began as Javi returned to his seat next to you. "What's next?"

"Next we email it to Walter and he sends it out to some of the film companies we've worked with before," he answered, "If none of them buy the script he'll extend the offer to others. But I'm confident one of the companies I've worked with in the past will take it. Lionsgate especially has expressed interest in taking up another screenplay from me."

"You really think it's theater worthy?" you asked, chewing on the cap of the pen in your hand nervously.

"Of course!"

"So when are you going to email it?"

"No time like now," Javi decided, flipping the lid to his laptop up. "That way Walter has a couple days before the weekend hits to reach out."

You watched as he typed up an email to Walter and linked the completed screenplay to him under the title "California Dreamers", your placeholder name for the script. Javi had warned you that often times studios or directors changed the names of screenplays once they started filming, but you still hoped whoever picked it up would see the need for that particular title. It played an important role in the story as far as you were concerned.

After Javi submitted the screenplay to Walter you both looked at each other blankly, unsure of what to do with your nearly nine week long project completed.

"What do we do while we wait for news?" you inquired.

He sighed. "We do whatever we want. I usually turn my focus back on the vineyard, or take a vacation. You...you can stay a while if you'd like, but you do not need to stay. You can go back home, be with your family and friends. There's nothing left to do that we can't do by email or video chat."

"So this is it," you realized, feeling heavy. You did miss your family, Sierra, and your rabbits, but you'd miss Valley View, and you didn't want to say goodbye to Javi.

"Only for now," he stated cheerfully, "We've got the premiere to go to when the film is released, after all, and then award season."

"Please," you said, trying to push away the part of you that wanted to entertain the idea of what it would be like to win any kind of award for your writing. "It's only my first screenplay. There's no way."

"Never say never!" he exclaimed, squeezing your shoulder. "There have been worst odds."

You couldn't deny that, you supposed.

x

He found you sitting on the stone bench by the Koi pond, tossing leftover cooked peas to them and watching the colorful mass of them swarm for an opportunity to eat one. There were a good thirty or so of them in the pond so it was entertaining to observe. You tried to make sure they all got at least one.

It was a good distraction from what you'd have to do next.

"Nora, what are you doing back here? You're going to be late."

You turned to see Javi approaching you, a wayward wavy lock of hair flopped over his forehead. Even disheveled he was ridiculously handsome.

"Wanted to say goodbye," you told him, gesturing towards the fish. "As silly as that is."

"It's not silly," he responded, shaking his head. "Koi are very intelligent for fish. They recognize the ones who feed them."

You smiled up at him fondly. "Thanks, but I doubt I've fed them often enough for them to remember me. I don't need them to. I'll miss them because I'll miss Valley View. I've never said it to you before, but this place is special, Jav."

"It is," he agreed. "And it's only a flight away. You can visit whenever you'd like."

"Thanks," you said gratefully, your smile turning wispy, "I might take you up on that offer."

"Please do." The tone in his voice was so genuine you wanted to cry.

As much as you'd miss his home, you'd miss Javi much more. Having spent every day of the last two months with him you'd gotten used to him being around. Felt close to him. You didn't want your friendship to turn long distance. You'd had a taste of what that was like with Sierra while you were staying at Valley View. You hated saying goodbye to Javi, but there was no denying a part of you was anxious to return home too, if nothing else for her, your rabbits, and your beloved old couch.

The part that wanted to stay silently tried to bargain. A few more days. You could cancel your flight and stay just a few more days. You knew Javi wouldn't mind, the cost of a commercial airline ticket was nothing to him, and you had been a little quick on the trigger buying your ticket back to North Dakota, having purchased it the same night you'd wrapped the screenplay. You had booked a flight that would take off two days later. At the time you'd thought it smart, rip the Band-Aid off smart, but with the two days having passed in a blur, you regretted it. If you stayed for the weekend you and Javi could go out one last time, maybe back to that bar you'd gone to for your birthday...

No. It was better this way.

"Let me drive you to the airport," Javi insisted, drawing you out of your thoughts.

Not trusting your words, you just nodded your yes. You could let him do that.

Ten minutes later you fetched your suitcase and overnight bag from the little house on the far side of the property and shoved them into the backseat of his dark green Land Rover.

Javi climbed into the driver's seat while you did so, and you joined him up front within a few seconds. As soon as you were buckled in and he'd put on sunglasses, he started driving to the airport. It was sunny and in the high sixties that day, so you opened the passenger window a crack, sucking in the fresh air as it rolled in. You watched as the now familiar landscape passed by, or rather, as you passed it by. Would you ever see it again? You quietly wondered. There was always a chance you wouldn't, so you tried to memorize it, just in case.

Javi was unusually subdued during the ride, his brief words here and there awkward and stiff. He mentioned that Walter had sent the screenplay to the last company on their list that morning and it was just a waiting game now to see who would make an offer for it. You'd simply nodded and kept your eyes on the world outside the vehicle, trying to hold back a sudden surge of confusing emotions.

It came to a head on the sidewalk in front of the airport's main entrance, after you'd gathered your belongings from the backseat and turned to Javi one last time.

He’d slid his sunglasses off his face and tucked them into a shirt pocket, the subtitle sadness in his exposed brown eyes making your heart ache.

"Goodbye, for now," he said, trying to force a smile, to create the illusion of him being his cheerful self. "Don't look so upset, eh? This is just the beginning. We've still got a lot to do once the script's picked up. Like going to the premiere."

"Video chatting won't be the same," you admitted to him.

"I meant what I said," he told you, "You can visit anytime."

"Thanks." You barely got out the word due to the lump forming in your throat. Was the cause sadness or regret?

"Come 'ere," Javi demanded softly, gesturing for you to hug him. You smiled and walked into his arms, swallowing hard as he squeezed you tight. You kept silently trying to remind yourself that this really wasn't going to be a permanent goodbye, but that still left you mourning the last two months. Things would never be the same.

"Bye, Javi." On impulse you gave him a peck on the cheek before spinning away and ambling into the building, not giving him a chance to return your words, and not allowing yourself to see his startled reaction.

You refused to look back.

x

"Nora!" Sierra squealed as soon as she opened her front door to see you standing before her. "You're back!"

She jumped into your arms and you yelped at the surprise embrace. "You knew I was coming home today," you reminded her. You'd called to let her know as soon as the plane ticket had been bought, before you'd even told your parents.

"Seeing is believing," she chimed. "It's good to have you back."

"You too." It really was. Even taking her brief visit for your birthday in account this had been the longest time you'd both spent apart, having grown up in the same town and been friends ever since you could remember.

"You anxious to see Buttercup and Tux?" she quizzed.

"Dying," you claimed, grinning ear to ear. "How have they been?"

"Same as when you last asked me yesterday," she replied, snorting. "Come on. They're munching on hay in their playpen."

She lead you through the kitchen of her old rental and into the living room. There next to her couch was a metal fenced playpen with two Miniature Lop rabbits inside.

The bigger one was also the oldest, a spayed butterscotch and white female. She was brushing shoulders with her younger pal, a black spotted male. They'd come with their names when you'd rescued them from the local animal shelter three years ago. You couldn't argue with them being named after their colors, and Buttercup looked very sweet with the heart shaped patch on her rump.

You climbed into the pen with them and sat cross legged as you petted them. "You guys have no idea how much I missed you," you gushed.

"Hopefully not as much as me," Sierra teased.

"It's a toss up," you joked and she huffed.

"Well, at least it's a toss up."

You scooped up Tux and placed him on your lap, one of his most favorite places to be. He continued to chew on the hay in his mouth as you stroked him slowly.

"So, how'd it go saying goodbye?" Sierra asked in a gentle tone. "You okay?"

"Yeah." You nodded. "Of course. Why wouldn't I be?"

She rolled her eyes and folded her arms over her chest. "Cause you have feelings for Javi and now he's states away."

"Javi and I are friends," you told her as you played with one of Tux's long ears, "He didn’t stop me from leaving and he sent me a thumbs up emoji when I texted him to let him know I landed safely.”

"You two are both idiots," Sierra muttered, sounding exasperated.

"Even if you were right about him being interested in me in that way," you began, "We would have never worked out."

"Keep telling yourself that," she retorted.

"I have to," you said quietly, so low she didn't catch it.

Despite your previous conviction, deep in the crevices of your mind, doubt was starting to seep in.

Naturally, you refused to pay attention to it.

xxx

Tagged: @harriedandharassed

xxx

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

xxx

#Javi Gutierrez #The Unbearable Weight Of Massive Talent #Javi G Fanfic (Mine) #OFC Fanfic #The Writing Contest Series

[m0use123]

Asami couldn't understand why her girlfriend didn't want to sleep in the same bed together.

But every night, without fail, she got.

Korra:- Alright Sami, night, see you in the morning.

Asami:- wait ... you're sleeping in the spare room again?

Korra:- yeah, I'm pretty tired, look, I'll see you in the morning Sami, night.

And with that, the Avatar all but ran out of the living room.

Desperate for some form of explanation, Asami contacted both Senna and Master Katara. To her surprise she received a book and a letter posted to her from the southern water tribe a week later.

Asami opened the letter first and read:

Dearest Asami,

After receiving your letter about Korra, Katara and I thought you were ready.

We have enclosed a book that the partners and loved ones of every Avatar since Wan, has contributed in writing.

It is time that it was passed on to you, in the hope that it will help you love, care for and protect the most powerful being on the planet.

The only rule is that the Avatar must never know of it's existence, this is purely observational and to help the next generation.

We truly hope you find this useful for a long, happy life with Korra.

All my love,

Senna.

P.S. I think you will find your answer in the chapter on sleep.

With her interest peeked, Asami set the letter aside and ripped open the book's protective paper wrappings.

She scanned the contents page and skipped to the chapter devoted to sleep.

The book must have been a gift from the spirit world, because it was light, the same size as a typical paperback and the pages were never ending.

As she skimmed each page, Asami came across names of Avatars so far back in history, she had never heard of.

She sighed with relief therefore, when she finally found a name she recognised.

It was written by Rangi, talking about Avatar Kyoshi, apparently the toughest Avatar in history suffered with nightmares, Rangi spoke about sitting up with her girlfriend, and creating kids stories aloud to eachother until the Avatar crashed from pure exhaustion.

Asami kept skimming, past Roku, she slowed as she recognised Katara's writing, explaining about Aang's sleepwalking habits. He also started talking in his sleep when the pressure became to much for him. Even Tezin, Kya and Bumi had written the odd paragraph about their father over the years.

At long last, the heiress found entries from Senna and Tonraq about a much younger Korra often having sleeping problems.

My, Korra is having a bad night again, she's been tossing and turning violently for hours, she crys out in her sleep every half hour, I've scanned the book and can't find a similar situation anywhere, Ow spirits help us.

Asami's heart clenched at the thought of a six year old Korra, too afraid to sleep, what made it worse was that a handful of pages later senna would be explaining about Korra's sleepless nights after her poisoning.

A few pages later and Asami found a section written by a babysitting Kya.

Grinning Asami closed the book and ran through the Sato mansion to find a meditating Korra in the garden.

She approached with a massive grin on her face.

Asami:- Why didn't you just tell me you suck your thumb in your sleep.

Korra chocked on her saliva as her eyes shot open.

Korra:- Sami, I don't know what you're talking about.

Asami:- Korra, I know, you don't have to hide it anymore. I except your company in bed tonight, no exceptions.

Korra just gaped like a fish as she watched Asami skip back up to the house.

. . . . . .

Later that evening as Korra was nervously slipping down under her girlfriend's silk sheets, feeling incredibly nervous.

Korra:- Just, don't laugh okay? Please don't mention it to anyone either?

Asami raised a well manicured eyebrow.

Asami:- I'm insulated you don't trust me baby, but yes, I promise to both, now please, we have a big day tomorrow, get some sleep.

The young CEO, kissed the Avatar's burning cheek, switched off the lights and snuggled down for sleep.

Asami woke first as the first rays of the sun filtered into her bedroom.

She turned to face her girlfriend and nearly squealed outloud at the cute sight.

Avatar Korra, saviour of the whole world many times over was sleepily sucking her thumb.

Her forefinger was hooked over her nose and she had her thumb stuck upto the hilt in her mouth.

As she watched the offending digit moved slightly in and out as the powerful force actually 'sucked'.

Unable to stand it anymore, Asami giggled and pecked her girlfriend's forehead, causing her to wake up.

Korra smiled sleepily around her thumb, until she realised what she was doing and sat bolt upright and hurriedly removed the digit, drying it on her PJ top.

Korra:- well that was embarrassing, sorry.

Asami:- Don't be silly, it was cute.

Korra:- come again? (She raised a questioning eyebrow.

Asami:- I said you were cute baby, and you gotta deal with it.

Korra turned crimson as her own words were used against her.

. . . . . .

Later that night, just before bed, Asami started writing her first of many entries into the 'Avatar hand book' grinning like an idiot as she enjoyed passing on her wisdom.

#legend of korra #korrasami #thumbsucking #cutieee #random #im tiiiired #im sorry

[tbyfandoms]

Rapunzel | Dramione

Pairing: draco malfoy x hermione granger

Word Count: 2.7k

Summary: stuck with the inability to meet with her boyfriend face to face on her own, hermione enlists the help of her best friend to get her there. meanwhile, stuck in a meeting of star-crossed lovers and nothing better to do, harry has a few quips for draco up his sleeve

Warnings: mild swearing

Masterlist | Ask/Tell/Request

A/N: my first work for dramione! i’ve loved this pair for so long and i'm so happy to have finally sat down and written a short fic for them. i would’ve never had the idea for this story without seeing this amazing artwork (shown in the header) by @fghartwork ! i saw it on my recommended and the idea immediately came to mind. please check out their page and the original art work here. they’re very talented and also very kind for letting me use their work in my header <3 i hope you all enjoy the story and lmk what you think! :)

“Harry be careful!” Hermione shrieks as she clings to the back of her best friend, her heart rate spiking every time he makes a sudden turn in the air.

She never did like flying.

“Hermione you’re fine, just hold on!” Harry replies with a chuckle. He can tell how frightened she is by the way her arms clutch tightly around his stomach each time he dips the broom.

“Oh trust me, I’m holding on,” she mumbles, squeezing her eyes shut as they swoop past one of the pillars on the castle. “This is so unbelievably terrifying and dangerous, I don’t get why you like it so much.”

“It’s thrilling! The wind in your hair and on your face. The way you can speed through the air and feel just like a bird, it’s brilliant!” He muses. There are few things Harry Potter finds absolute, indescribable joy in and flying is most definitely one of them. In a teasing tone he adds; “Need I remind you, you’re the one who wanted to do this.”

“Come on, Harry! You know I wouldn’t if it wasn’t my absolute last option. This is the only way I can see Draco before we leave for break. After tonight who knows how long until I’ll be able to see him again face to face.”

It was just their luck that the final day Hermione and Draco would be able to see each other, the Malfoy boy would land himself in detention. There wasn’t any way around it and no time to meet in the morning before everyone leaves. If the couple wanted to see each other one last time, this is the only way it could be done.

The only downside to the plan was that Hermione would have to travel by broom to get to Draco. There wasn’t a chance she’d be let in the room, so meeting in secret by the window was the best bet. Too bad Draco’s serving his detention in a classroom way at the top of the castle, which is how Hermione has found herself holding on to Harry for dear life as he takes her to see him.

“The two of you really can’t meet up during the break? This is honestly the last chance you’ve got to spend time with him before we leave?” Harry questions.

“Sadly, yes. With the way our personal schedules line up, there doesn’t seem to be a day we can have to ourselves. Any day I’m free he’ll be busy and any day he’s free I’ll be busy. We could always try to floo or apparate to each other during spare time, but considering how on edge everyone still is regarding our relationship, it doesn’t seem possible,” Hermione sighs. No matter how hard she tries to show everyone how much Draco has changed and grown, it doesn’t seem to change anything. Harry truly seems to be one of the only people who has somewhat accepted their relationship, besides Ginny.

Although Harry can’t see her face, he can tell Hermione is frowning behind him, wishing things could be different and still struggling with the heartache of the people she loves most not accepting the boy she’s fallen for. It took a long time for Harry to grasp the idea of their relationship, but of course with help from Ginny, he was able to come to terms with it and focus on the fact Hermione is happier than ever before. After the past few years they’ve had that’s truly all he could hope for, his best friend’s happiness.

Harry still doesn’t get how it even happened, but he guesses all of them coming back for an eighth year allowed unexpected relationships to form between people. It was weird at first, but he sees how much good it’s actually done and he’s glad he came back along with so many of his other classmates. In a way it’s been healing for him even if these walls have witnessed so much loss and destruction, and if Hermione finding comfort and love in being with Malfoy is part of her healing, then who’s he to judge her?

“Don’t worry, Hermione, I’m sure the two of you will figure it out. I can tell you both care for each other a lot and not being able to see each other in person for a while isn’t going to change that. There’s ways around your obstacles and if anyone will figure it out it’ll be you. Besides, I’m here for you if and when you need me again. I mean look at us now! If you would’ve told me a year ago I’d be helping you meet up with Malfoy I would’ve said you’re mad! Yet here we are.” The two Gryffindors laugh and Hermione fights the tears prickling in her eyes over Harry’s words. She truly doesn’t know where she’d be without him and she’s so incredibly grateful to have him in her life.

“Thank you, Harry,” she says softly as the raven-haired boy takes them around a pillar and begins to slow down as their destination comes into view.

“You’re welcome, Hermione,” he replies, lining his broom up against the side of the castle and slowly lifting the both of them up under a window that’s wide open. "Okay, now that we're here, climb up on my shoulders and I'll keep you steady while you 'talk' to Malfoy."

Hermione nearly falls off the broom over the statement alone. "What!? Why in the world would I do that when I can keep my little stability by just staying where I am, sat behind you!"

"No offense, Hermione, but I really don't wanna be sitting right next to you while you make out with your boyfriend." Hermione's face flushes fiercely and she does her best to try and gather herself before replying.

"Well, alright then. If you really want me to, I will." With a firm nod, even though Harry can't see her, Hermione decides the task won't be so bad. She's a witch for God's sake! She could handle a little challenge.

Grabbing onto Harry's shoulders, Hermione begins to lift herself up off the broom. With shaky hands, she grabs the edge of the window above her, using it to balance as she lifts one leg over Harry's shoulder, and then the other. Harry grabs onto Hermione's shins and allows her time to adjust.

"See, not so bad, right?" Harry grunts out. Hermione isn't heavy by any means, but he didn't think through all the added extra weight. Harry may be one of Hogwart's best seekers, but he's sure never flown a broom with someone sitting on his shoulders before. He'd get used to the feeling in a minute though, he's sure...hopefully.

"Right! This is fine, I'm steady, it's good!" Hermione doesn't know who she's trying to convince, Harry or herself, but it definitely seems more like the latter.

Looking up, Hermione realizes she's still a little under the window, not exactly head level with it. "Harry, can you fly us up a little bit? I can't quite see through the window."

In an instant, Hermione finds herself rising upwards. The sudden movement, although expected, startles her and causes her to let out a tiny yelp.

"Granger? Is that you?" Looking into the open window, Hermione smiles when she sees her boyfriend standing there.

"Draco!" She exclaims, leaning in closer to the windowsill and resting her arms on the ledge.

"What in the bloody hell are you doing!?" Rushing to the window, Draco leans out of it slightly, looking down to see how exactly his girlfriend has found her way up here. "Is that Potter?"

"Evening, Malfoy!" Harry grins while looking up and throwing Draco a peace sign. The blonde can't help the bemused smile that makes it's way onto his face. Of course it would be Potter to help with something like this.

"I knew we wouldn't be able to see each other before we left tomorrow, so this is the best plan I could come up with. It's probably not the best one I've ever thought of, but so be it, I'm here and now we can be together for a moment!"

Draco smiles at the girl before him. He doesn't understand how in the world he got so lucky to be with someone like her. If you would've told him when he first came to Hogwarts that he'd end up with the bushy haired girl from Gryffindor, he would've laughed in your face. But now, here he is, completely and utterly in love with her.

"Granger, you're brilliant! If anything this is your best plan yet, love." Draco reaches over and grabs one of Hermione's hands, rubbing his fingers over her knuckles and looking at her with those big grey eyes she's come to love.

A thought pops into Hermione's head, instantly sending her heart racing. "Wait, McGonagall isn't in there is she? I would hate to get you into more trouble!" The brunette tries to look through the window, but Draco immediately shakes his head, trying to calm her nerves.

"No, she stepped out for a moment. I'm not sure when she'll be back, though. We might not have much time, I-"

"You're both fine, don't worry. McGonagall's in her office talking to Flitwick. You've probably got loads of time," Harry says, leading to Draco and Hermione to look down at him questioningly.

"And how do you know that, Potter?" Draco questions, raising a brow at Harry's supposed fact.

Without speaking a word, the boy holds up a piece of folded paper he had in his pocket. Hermione hums and smirks when she realizes what it is. "Marauder's map. You've still got that thing, Harry?"

"Of course I do, it's useful, you know that." Harry goes back to looking at the map, definitely not keeping his eye on the spot of a certain red head girl.

Turning back to the blonde, Hermione leans her head on her fist, staring at Draco with nothing but adoration. "So, tell me about your day of solitude."

Laughing, Draco settles himself on the windowsill, ready to spend every possible moment he can with the girl who stole his heart and taught him what real love is all about.

*****

"You're lying!" Hermione can't help the laugh that escapes her lips. "There's no way she made you do that!"

"Granger, I swear she did! This detention is by far the worst I've ever received."

Hermione just shakes her head at her boyfriend's words. She loves how at ease she feels with him. That sounds ridiculous considering who it is she's talking about, but it's true. Draco makes her feel a sense of comfort she's never felt before. It took a long time for them to get to this point, but she wouldn't take any of it back. She's glad after all these years they found their way to each other, found healing and love within each other. It took everyone by surprise, even them, but it's perfectly imperfect, and that's enough for them.

"I'm going to miss you so much, Draco," Hermione says, barely above a whisper. She tries to give him a smile but it's weak. Hermione never was very good with trying to hide her emotions.

"I'm going to miss you too, Hermione." Draco reaches out and cups the girl's cheeks with his palms, swiping this thumbs lightly back and forth. "We're going to figure this out, don't worry. I won't allow anyone to keep you away from me. I mean c'mon, even detention couldn't stop us from seeing each other."

The Gryffindor girl lights up at the Slytherin's words, letting out a small giggle.

"There's that smile and laugh I love so much," Draco beams, loving the way Hermione gets shy at his words. Closing the distance, the Malfoy heir connects his lips with hers, and she wastes no time in reciprocating the action.

Almost instantly Hermione finds herself lost in Draco's soft lips and warm aura. She's reaching up and dragging one hand through his hair while the other grasps onto the front of his shirt, wanting him as close as possible.

It's when Draco softly bites down on Hermione's bottom lip that she really loses it. Her thighs move to rub together, wanting to create any sort of friction, but the action is immediately halted, rapid taps on her knees breaking her from the spell that is Draco Malfoy.

"Hermione!" Harry squeaks from below and Hermione's eyes go wide as she realizes what's happening.

"Sorry, Harry!" The girl rushes out, heat rushing up her neck and face as she quickly releases the death grip her thighs have around Harry's neck.

"It's fine," the raven haired boy coughs out. After rubbing his neck as best he can to soothe the dull pain, while simultaneously holding onto Hermione and trying to keep the broom upright, he says, "I hate to break this up but either tell Rapunzel to let down his hair and have you climb up, or we've got to go. McGonagall's coming."

Hermione laughs at the boy's joke, but covers it with her hand as she turns and notices Draco's confusion and hard stare.

"What did you just call me, Scarhead?" Draco's eyebrows are furrowed and even though he and Harry have long since settled their 'rivalry', the nicknames still pop up here and there, and Draco is quick to revert back to them when feeling intimidated, as is Harry.

Before her two favorite boys can begin bickering, Hermione interjects. "It's just from a fairy tale, Draco. It's Rapunzel, have you ever heard of it?"

Malfoy shakes his head and Hermione's left surprised. She knew the Wizarding world was different than that of the Muggles, but she figured at least the fairy tales would've been prominent in both.

"Basically it's a story about a girl trapped in a tower and she has incredibly long hair that she lets down for her lover to climb in order to reach her. I'm shocked you don't know it."

Draco shakes his head and relaxes at the fact it wasn't anything too insulting. "Never heard of it."

"Basically, it's a joke, Malfoy. You should learn to take one!" Harry teases from below and Hermione gasps before lightly smacking the side of his head.

"Harry! Be nice!" Hermione starts to make her way off her friend's shoulders, slowly settling back on the broom. Harry rubs the spot on his head, but continues to chuckle as he flies the broom up a bit higher, allowing Hermione to be able to say goodbye.

"Very funny, Potter. We'll see who's the one laughing when I beat your ass in the next quidditch match," Draco smirks and Harry rolls his eyes in return.

"We'll see about that one, Malfoy"

"If you two are done trying to one up each other, I'd like to say goodbye to my boyfriend before we get caught," Hermione says, side-eyeing the both of them. Boys.

Turning back to face Draco, Hermione smiles and leans in one final time for a kiss, this time not letting it get too out of hand.

After pulling away, Draco is the first to speak. "I promise to write to you as much as possible, even if it's about something boring. I'll write about it just so you know I'm still thinking of you."

The brunette girl laughs and nods her head. "I'll love every second of reading them, I'm sure. I love you, Draco."

The blonde's usual steel grey eyes soften as they take in every inch of the girl before them. Airily, Draco replies, "I love you too, Hermione."

A moment passes between them before suddenly the door to the classroom is being opened and the Headmistress' voice can be heard.

"Mr. Malfoy, what are you doing by the window?" The couple's eyes go wide. Draco immediately steps back and Hermione lightly urges Harry to take off.

"Nothing, Headmistress," Draco says, watching as his girlfriend begins to descend back to the ground. He winks at her and then says, "Just thought I heard something."

Hermione's stomach fills with butterflies at his action, she grins and waves at him before holding on to Harry for dear life once more.

"Thank you for doing this, Harry. It really means so much to me," the witch says, lightly squeezing Harry a bit extra for a moment in appreciation.

"You're welcome, Hermione. Anything for you and your Rapunzel." The boy laughs and Hermione gasps but can't help to do the same.

"Harry!"

#dramione #draco malfoy #hermione granger #draco malfoy x hermione granger #draco x hermione #draco and hermione #draco malfoy and hermione granger #harry potter #the wizarding world of harry potter #dramione fanfic #dramione fanfiction #dramione fandom #dramione fanart #dramione fluff #dramione one shot

[drkineildwicks]

An update on the sequel to (Not So) Hated by Life Itself:

We have matched the halfway mark on the original fic

This does not mean this one is halfway done because oof this feels beefier

Mostly because I'm basically tying two separate seasons together

Because in breaking Season 2 down it's...definitely two separate seasons with separate themes outlined by their 'season finales'

It's just that the guys working on it had to smoosh them together, probably because they sensed the writing on the wall and the executive axe coming for their heads

Saying that, it's slowly coming along and I do have maybe three episodes fully written out

And a smattering across a good chunk of the rest of them at 267 pages currently we're not doing too badly

Some episodes and story lines from the show got axed because of events in (Not So) Hated by Life Itself

Examples being Globby and High Voltage being absent, since Globby never stole the chem purse and High Voltage got their redemption arc earlier

Also Sparkle got away in his debut episode but since he didn't....

"The Present" is going to be a separate special and a couple of the episodes after that got ported to this AU's season 3 since...*looks at actual season 3* yeah we're not doing that

Did manage to get the Mad Jacks into the AU though so that makes me happy

And in doing so and ironing out some plot threads (and taking notes so I don't forget) some earlier stuff got axed so...enjoy some deleted scenes :)

They went to the railing, looked down at the roiling water as the gold sank to the bottom of the bay. “Think anyone will notice?” Hiro asked. “Seriously?” Sparkles demanded, rounding on them.  “All that hard work to steal that gold and you just HYUWAA!” Hiro watched as Obake used one of the Doc Ock tentacles to slam Sparkles into the wall, dribble and bash him a few times before flinging him into the bay—turned to look at him.  “Seriously?” “I’ll take a moment to remind you he kidnapped Mochi with the intent to launch him into deep space,” Obake said, leaning on the railing to address him as he reeled the tentacle back in.

And also:

“Are we sure Sparkle is going to try again?” “We don’t know that he doesn’t have help.” “We do know he has help,” Obake said.  “Someone like that doesn’t have the brains to do this sort of thing by himself.”

Like I said, tying everything together and ironing out the plot threads ended up with some early stuff getting rewritten (pretty sure I started pecking at the sequel while working on (Not So) Hated by Life Itself, honestly)

(read said fic of (Not So) Hated by Life Itself) now on FFN and AO3)

Okay back to my radio silence bye

#bh6 #big hero 6 #(not so) hated by life itself #big hero six #big hero 6 the series #that time-travelling Obake AU #big hero six the series #sequel is called Ready To (Life Life Anew) #also spoilers kinda

[etherealbelphie]

A Long Day (Ft. Satan and GN!MC)

Warnings: Season 1 spoilers, implied almost-cannibalism, reader gets yelled at, reader cries, implied relationship, also reader is shorter than Satan.

Length: 1.5k words

Genre: Hurt, Comfort, little bit of fluff.

Summary: Satan had a long, frustrating day. That was still no excuse to snap at you.

A/N: Alright! First Satan fic! The only brother I haven't written for yet is Lucifer, and I've recently gotten a request for him, so that's happening at some point. Out of all the fics I've written, this one's probably been in the works the longest. It's been sitting in my drafts half-finished for months, so this week I buckled down and finished it. Anyways, I hope you enjoy the story, and as always, if I missed any warnings, please let me know!

-Ethereal (✿◡‿◡)

Story below, please don’t claim as your own!

Satan had had a terrible day.

He hadn't gotten to bed until late the night before because he was reading, so he was exhausted. He also woke up to a ruined book, since he fell asleep before he put it away.

Since he was so reluctant to get out of bed, he didn't have time to eat breakfast, so he was cranky the entire morning.

He didn't do as well as he hoped he would on one of his tests, and to make matters worse, he learned that Lucifer had done better than him.

To top it all off, he'd stayed late studying--maybe the teacher would let him retake it— and got caught in some bad weather on his way home, leaving him soaking wet.

By the time he dragged himself up the front steps, he just wanted to go to his room, get into some dry clothes and relax.

You were waiting by the front door for him. Maybe you’d like to join him?

"Hey Satan!" You greeted him brightly.

You stopped a moment to take him in. "I'm glad you're finally back- is it raining outside?" You asked.

"You think?" He responded, gesturing to himself. Usually, you would've caught his tone, but you were more chipper than usual today. As a result, his sour mood went undetected.

Well, if there was one thing he could always count on, it was you. Even if you didn't mean to, you always managed to make his bad days just a little better. You always seemed happy to see him, no matter what mood he was in.

"Anyways, as I was saying, I'm glad you're back. We're a little late with dinner duty, and Beel is starting to get a little antsy."

"Huh?"

"Beel? He's hungry," you said, though you figured that went without saying.

"We've got dinner duty?" He asked.

"Uh-huh! I already picked out the recipe, and I already checked for the ingredients."

He didn't want to do dinner duty. He wanted to go get changed, maybe take you, and go cuddle you while he read. He didn't want to cook some stupid food for his stupid brothers.

Unaware of how upset he was, you approach Satan and begin unbuttoning his jacket, then tugged it off. He doesn't move at all. It was dripping and making the carpet wet. It was heavy as hell, so you go to hang it on the hook.

"Do you...really need my help?" Satan asked. "Couldn't you handle this one on your own?"

"Hah, I wish!" The jacket was heavy, and you struggled to lift it up. "I've barely got a handle on how to use your stove, let alone cook for seven people and one Beel." Finally, you hoist it up to the hook.

"Come on, let's go get started."

He grit his teeth. He really didn’t want to do this, but you did have a point. Asking you to do this alone probably would’ve stressed you out, and he definitely didn't want you to ask anyone else.

He clenched and unclenched his fists, then reluctantly followed you into the kitchen. Maybe some of your good mood would rub off on him.

"Anyways, I thought we could make-" you flipped the book open to a dog-eared page. (That certainly didn’t help his mood either.) "This!" You pointed excitedly to the page. "I mean, not this exactly. Seeing this reminded me that I know a recipe for it. A different one. Someone I'm close to taught it to me." you explained.

The kitchen filled with the sound of metal clanging as you pulled out the pots and pans. "And it’s pretty good. It’s definitely one of my favorite meals. Plus it’s human food, which I know your brothers tend to like."

Well, you certainly were talkative today.

"And honestly, like, no offense, but I'm glad to get a break from Devildom food now and then. I mean, last time we went out to eat my food blinked at me. Which, I get is normal down here, but uh, yeah, not too common where I'm from."

You paused a moment, gathering your train of thought. "I mean, it's not as bad as the time I went to Lord Diavolo’s and I almost ate- well, you know what it was. Which, again, I know that sort of thing isn't too rare down here, but to say that it's seriously frowned upon where I live would be an understatement. Ugh, I hope I didn't offend anyone when I freaked out."

You'd stopped prepping entirely at this point, just leaning against the counter. If you were going to take up his time, the least you could do was actually make it worth it.

"It's just, the thought of eating- argh, nope, nope. Can't think about it. I'm pretty sure that was the biggest culture shock with being here, actually. That, and getting used to living amongst a bunch of aristocrats. I'm not really sure if that's a culture shock thing or just a status shock, though."

You turn around and started pulling spices out of the cabinet. "Probably both. And I can’t say I’d thought I’d meet royalty, especially not the prince of literal Hell. Or the Avatars of Sin. Or angels. And whatever Solomon is. He says he’s human, but honestly, I don’t know. Hey Satan, can you-?”

"For the love of Diavlo, do you EVER shut up?"

You very visibly flinched, then fell dead silent.

Apparently, the answer to his question was yes.

He knew he was reaching some sort of breaking point, but he didn’t realize it would sneak up on him like that. He truly hadn’t meant to yell at you.

You had frozen, your back turned to him.

Much quieter this time, he spoke your name.

This prompted you to reanimate, and you silently crossed the room and grabbed the salt from the counter beside him.

He didn’t say a word as you started pulling ingredients out of the fridge.

Then he heard it. A sniffle. Barely audible, but definitely a sniffle. Even worse, it was painfully obvious that you were trying to hide it. Great. Making you cry was all he needed to wrap up his awful day.  

Damn it. He didn’t ever want to be the reason you cried.

No, this wasn’t about him anymore.

This was about you.

“No, no, no,” he said quietly, coming up beside you. “Hey, it’s okay, I’m sorry. Please don’t cry.”

“Sorry,” you mumbled, wiping your face with your sleeve.

“No, please, don’t apologize!” He exclaimed. “No, that was my fault, I’m so sorry!”

“It’s okay,” you said, closing the fridge and heading back to the counter.

“It’s not. I’m sorry. I’ve had a very long day, but—” he touched your shoulder, gently pulling you to face him. As he suspected, your eyes were filled with tears. “Of course, that’s not an excuse. I shouldn’t have— shouldn’t ever yell at you. Can I…?” He faltered. “Can I give you a hug?”

You nodded, and that was all the encouragement he needed to wrap you in his arms. He could feel you trembling slightly.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled again.

“It’s not your job to apologize to me,” he said. “You didn’t do anything.”

“No, I mean I’m sorry for overreacting,” you clarified.

He shook his head. “You aren’t overreacting.”

“I guess, but..” you sniffled. “I just feel kind of dumb. I know you’re not going to hurt me or anything. Yelling just startles me, and when I get startled, I cry.”

“People react to different things different ways. Crying is a fair reaction to getting yelled at.”

You nodded, falling silent for a moment.

Gradually, you stopped trembling.

Then suddenly, you pulled away from him, giggling.

“What is it?” He asked.

You gestured to your now-soaked clothes. Oh, right. He’d just been caught in the rain.

“Oh…uhm, sorry,” he said.

You shook your head with a small smile. “It’s fine.”

You glanced around the kitchen and sighed. “You know what? Screw it,” you said, walking out of the kitchen and flicking off the lights.

Satan followed, giving you a puzzled look. “What about dinner duty?”

“Levi owes me one for standing in line for four hours so he could get two signed copies of something or other. I’ll ask him to do it.” You pulled out your D.D.D, messaging the demon in question.

“Besides,” you added, not looking up from your screen “Cuddling with you by the fireplace in the library sounds pretty good right now.”

You sent the text, putting your phone back in your pocket with a little flourish.

“There, that takes care of that,” you said. “Now, why don’t you go get into some dry clothes? I’ll do the same, and we’ll meet in the library in ten. Sound good?” You asked.

He nodded. Of course it did.

“Alright. See you then.” You stood on your toes, giving Satan a peck on the cheek before heading to your room.

He watched a moment, then promptly hurried to his room.

He didn’t want to be late.

#obey me #obey me fanfiction #obey me fanfic #obey me mc #obey me satan #obey me mc x satan

[erisenyo]

Hi!

I read your Burning Bright serie and I just couldn't get it out of my mind. I really liked how you approached the whole cultural backround of every nation, and how you give dimension to the characters.

My favourite part was the dynamic between Zuko and Sokka and what you did to Zuko's bendig.

Anyway, after my rant, I would like to ask if you've ever written anything before with an idea from one of your readers?

Sometimes I saw it on AO3 that authors do this, and I've got and idea, with a Zuko/Sokka pairing, but not a writer's patience and any idea I've ever tried to transform into a story got abandoned in different stages.

Thanks for your answer 😊

Hello! I'm doing a little happy dance that the whole series stuck in your head after reading, and that you enjoyed the worldbuilding around the different nations and the exploration of Zuko's bending so much! I had so much fun with those pieces of the story. And that the characters felt so multi-dimensional, and that you enjoyed the boys' dynamic so much--it truly is putting a smile on my face!

And I have indeed written before off of ideas from discussions in the comments, or from people who were very good at guessing plot twists and got a little reward for it lol. I get a lot of inspiration from shared excitement for an idea, actually--Love Is In The Hair was born out of a reader idea in the comments, To Open Every Door To Night, To Meet Each Rising Sun came from extensive geeking out around worldbuilding complexities in the comments, All I Need Is To Be Struck (By Your Electric Love) came from a request, The Care and Keeping of You (For Benders!) came from a conversation diving into various canon relationships, and my current WIP (and...the next 3-4 probably, @callmesinpai I have not forgotten the Masquerade AU and I think I've finally figured it out lol) are also from ideas readers threw out in the comments that I thought sounded like a lot of fun to write!

So I can't promise anything, but I am always down to get excited with people over fun ideas and nerd out about canon and see what comes of it!

And if you would like to lock me in--now seems like a great time to plug the fact that I'm participating in Fandom Trumps Hate again this year! The browsing period is open now (my page is here!), it's a charity auction, and To Open Every Door To Night, To Meet Each Rising Sun was what I made last year out of the winner's request, so...truly it might be a steal if I really run away with the idea lol

#asks and answers #ankilo #I am very much about the enthusiasm apparently #People being excited for an idea makes me excited for it too haha #All about that shared creative energy

[shinakazami1]

I’m so, so sorry for dipping for months it’s been quite busy and procrastination got the hang of me,,, But since I’m finally free now, time to actually transcribe the raw reaction I wrote two months ago from paper to Microsoft word and edit it! I just need to summarise it and I'm done! *look at word document: page 2 of 2,640 words* yeah maybe a small segments should do

(this one is for Destiny Surely Likes to Play Tricks, thing absolutely slayed me my goodness I'm blushing screaming kicking my legs I'm just so happy for these men and their journey to happiness)

“While I do know your name…beautiful” ,,,Ok that might be something left behind in the editing process (or maybe it’s intentional I have no idea) but the text ending with no dots really enhanced that need of his since Nar is a very careful person who would reread every sentence before pressing send (like you’ve written some sentences below). And here, without the dot, it felt like he typed that sentence and pressed send at rocket speeds. No thoughts in that moment, those fingers driven by pure instincts and feelings alone,,,

“Us. It felt strange to refer to himself…anymore.” “us!” like, both of them! Not just “you” and “I”, those two words grouped, combined together to become one “us”! They belong to each other, from two people to one couple! Them!! ajsdhdhfdk I'm so normal about them

Thank you writers for writing the most tooth-rotting fluff ever and I apologise again for taking too long ;-;; I should really work on this whole thing... Also happy followers count!

307 anon,,, I was just thinking about you in the past few days cus I am now writing another story (,,,hope you will like it,,) and wondered just how are you,,,,,, (rest under the text cus this is long foiahafs)

Please don't be sorry at all - there are so many things in your life going on that I will never have a chance of knowing about but you spending the time to write these just means so much to me. And seeing you come back just means so much ough

And also OUGH DUDE YOU HAVING THE WHOLE DOCUMENT I would be so up to just reading it whole too, you not only spending time to read but also write down comments to send me, who are you why are you so kind, I hope life treats you well, I hope you are doing okay, I wish you the best and I hope my response will bring at least a tiny bit of the joy your asks bring me, thank you for spending time on this all (pwease reveal yourself one day,, / nf)

To the responses I go:

,,, I think it's just me not writing dots tbh IOHFSAHIOSFAHIO but to think someone thought of it in such lovely way because that's so right - Narrator would check, Narrator would normally reread again and again but he didn't, he just found his soulmate, he is in the moment, living it all oughhhh 307 anon you are a genius

US US US they just are TOGETHER NOW there are separate entities but they are together just ough yes you GET IT I'M SO GLAD YOU GET IT

Please take your time, take it easy and I hope you will have a lovely day anon

A little snippet from the TSP angst story I'm writing that someone took screenshots of hoiashfiao

:3c cus every angst deserves sum silly moment

#307 anon #i spin you around #instant serotonin #truly #and that timing #mwah #you are just #anon ask #tsp #yesss #me when 307 shows up: #*Screams to my friends* #oughhh #hope you have a good day anon #thank you sm 8)

[fallingsunflower]

https://sunflowerdiscussion.tumblr.com/post/694883829140324352/but-people-said-olivia-cant-mention-that-harry-is

It is very weird. I feel like 🐙 could mention H but had to word things very carefully bc of a loophole in their agreement/contract or she was allowed to talk about him more.

I have a theory that they were going to push the deeply in love, happy happy, obviously in a very serious relationship narrative (🙄) leading up to Venice, at the film festival and through MP promo bc they (label, management, idk?) couldn't possibly have anyone thinking H could be queer. And I think people would be even more likely to question H's sexuality if they listened to things the director and producer were saying like "Harry is Tom", they wanted a queer cast and how passionate H was about the story.

Back to pushing the relationship narrative...

- We got the RS article that was basically dwd & 🐙 promo disguised as a Harry article and it included an interview with her as well as the writer pushing a specific narrative

-We saw the pap walks ramp up as soon as they got to NYC, both together and alone. The amount of paparazzi and "fans" they had waiting for them when they left the restaurant was insane and a huge spectacle.

-🐙 was attending ALL of H's shows

-Then we have her other articles, which were mostly written before the Shia/Flo/🐙 shitstorm & they seemed to talk about the relationship more than we'd previously seen.

-In the VF article 🐙 mentioned the quote abt filling up your own cup. She originally tweeted that in 2016. H used it as advice to a fan at his show on July 16th. 🐙 then brings up the quote in the VF article and it sounds like that part of the interview was done on July 29th at the photoshoot. So two weeks after H said it in front of thousands. I think they were going to wait for either shippers or tabloids to connect it back to her so they could use the quote to push how happy & in love they are. How they're obviously on the same page. Blah blah blah.

But then we got the mess with Shia. I think the backlash, the very high possibility that she lied (again) to H & his team about Shia's exit, and the condescending attitude towards Flo, made H and his team change course. I think they were either going to heavily hint at their relationship throughout the film festival or go full on happy couple but this latest mess was the final straw. Obviously only time will tell if it's over but I think H's behavior in Venice was extremely telling as well as 🐙 not being at his shows. We could get a bua soon or not until after MP but I think H and his team would be incredibly stupid to have him seen with her again. I'm just thankful all of this Shia and Flo stuff came out when it did because I really do feel like we were going to have a different Venice Film Festival.

Anyways, sorry this was rambling and long. I could be completely off but I'd be interested to hear what you think.

I agree that the Venice Film Festival could have gone a lot different if the Shia stuff didn't come out, but I'm not sure in what way. It would't change the messy plot of DWD or the reviews. It might have made people more accepting of Olivia as a filmmaker though. She probably would have gotten better press and the focus, more than likely, would have been on holivia and DWD rather than the other behind the scenes drama.

I could see the whole "deeply in love" narrative. It's pretty obvious they were going that way. The Variety article clearly was pushing it, and that was written in July I think? As were some other magazines that had a bit of a roll out around that time.

I'm not sure which direction they're going in now. It would be stupid to continue, especially on Harry's part. I could potentially seeing them just fading this thing out. It might be down low for a while and then all of a sudden we get word they split. But I'm not sure. No one knows.

I guess we'll find out. And I'll leave my asks on for the MP premiere at the TIFF, btw. So we can chat if you'd like. that's why I haven't turned them off yet

in regards to this

[number5theboy]

Same anon here!! Hi. Firstly, thank you so much for your great response, and I'm more than happy to offer up thoughts. I originally wrote a massive thing but largely I think those thoughts can be summed up by saying I think Klaus and Viktor were poorly handled characters in season 2.

For Klaus, there was compelling story there, but it felt disconnected from the Klaus we saw at the end of season 1 and because Klaus' story is the least prominent of any sibling in season 2, there doesn't feel like there's much depth or complexity going into the writing of Klaus. If they wanted him to be the sibling to take a backseat, it would've been better to have his story directly connect to being a soldier. Anti war protester overwhelmed by the amount of ghosts that like what he has to say, rather than just being treated as comic relief.

And Viktor's amnesia felt like it only impacted Luther's development. It leaves Viktor's arc uninteresting because he's not really getting to grow after season 1, it flattens his complexity out. Could've been good if more of the siblings interacted with each other/had been together the whole time and got to react to a Viktor who doesn't remember anything, but they didn't do much with it. Doesn't help he's still such a large character and has such a big chunk of screen time but never knows what's going on.

Hopefully this wasn't too long, but I think those two are the ones who stand out to me as the most confusingly written in s2, probably because their s1 arcs had them both change and grow so much, but tua wanted to keep some kind of status quo.

Hi, welcome back, Anon, we are completely on the same page here. I literally typed out that I thought that Klaus and Viktor got the shaft in my original answer, but then I thought I'd hear your thoughts first and then add mine, and turns out, not much to add, I am 100% with you.

With Klaus, I am split, because I like the storyline with Dave, I think that builds well on S1 and his assertion that Dave was the only person he ever truly loved, more than himself, more than his own chance of meeting and falling in love with him. On the other hand, the cult storyline feels like it was in there because someone was like 'hey wouldn't it be groovy if Klaus had a cult?' in the first draft meeting, and that's the extent of thinking that went into that. It's such a pointless, unfunny storyline with no lasting impact on anything and no thought into the real-life implications of cults and the weight of that word. It's just. They could've done anything else there and it almost certainly would've been better. I love the idea of him being involved in anti-war-protests and how the ghosts would play into that, it's a good one.

And I basically hate the decision to give Viktor amnesia, it's such a boring cop-out to absolve him of any and all responsibility of the things he did in S1 (which then beautifully comes back to bite the writers in the butt in S3). They wanted to fasttrack Viktor being integrated into the family without having to actually deal with the baggage of what that would entail. It somehow writes out the siblings out of a storyline that the ending of S1 literally could not have been more clear about them being involved in. Sidenote: the way S2 butchers and misinterprets Five's comment about Viktor always being the bomb genuinely pisses me off to this day, the way it's used in S2 is so stupid and so much less nuanced than what it meant in the S1 finale, it frustrates me so. They really had a character coming down from a lifetime of being drugged against their will and immediately settled him with amnesia so that any interactions with his siblings prior to like. Episode 9 has no real meaning. I would love to see a version of S2 where a) Viktor has his memories and b) since Luther was holding him, they were never split up. That would have been, in my opinion, the most compelling way to start them off.

No worries about length, Anon, I completely agree with your assessment that the show did not really wanted to move on from a certain status quo for these characters.

#Replies #Anonymous #Negativity

[snuggleupagus]

An Account of 5/21/22 - Long Post, don't reblog

I woke up at 7:45am on our 4 year anniversary and my boyfriend was acting kinda weird. He took the dog out for his morning potty break, which I always do, and acted dodgy when I asked what we should eat for breakfast. He told me to go hide in the bathroom for a minute and my morning grouchiness kicked in. Wtf do I have to hide in the bathroom for??

When I came back out, he handed me my first clue on a little piece of paper. Unbeknownst to me, I was going on a scavenger hunt. Until that moment, our plan had just been to go out to eat for dinner somewhere fancy (I made a post about it actually...) and keep it lowkey. So I was like ok...... here goes?

The first several clues (there were 45 in total over the course of the day) were hidden in things in our apartment. One was under our dog's collar, one was in our cat's favorite napping spot, one was on a file on my computer. Several were scattered throughout the pages of The Hobbit, The Lord of the Rings, Good Omens, and Watership Down. One was in my car, and one was written in sharpie on the wall of a drain ditch we've walked through many times on snowday adventures.

Finally, a clue took us to his car, where a bunch of donuts and kolaches were waiting. We went to a client's house to feed some cats and there was a clue hidden there by their food bowls telling me to check my friend Babs' instagram. Sure enough, a clue was waiting for me there on her story, telling us to come over and bring the donuts!

We got to her house and we sat down w her and her fiancé to play a round of Mario Party. I ended in 3rd place, but I got both the bonus stars at the end which won me the game since I had the most money. So I was feeling pretty damn good, it's the first time I've won Mario Party in literal years.

Babs and her fiancé each had a clue for me, and off we went again to the CVS where Cory and I first met as employees. The manager there gave me my next clue, and we were off to my parent's house. There were a few clues around there, one my brother gave me. After we found the last clue, which was hidden where Cory and I declared our love for each other the first time and got together (May 21 2018), I figured out the clue was taking us to our favorite arcade.

Once we got there, his family all showed up. Each of them had a clue for me. We played games, drank beer, and somehow I hit the jackpot on a game and won us a lot of tickets, which also felt really good. We spent around an hour and a half or so there, and then I was given my next clue.

It took us to the restaurant where we had our first date (it's since changed into a new restaurant w new owners but the new place is equally delicious and fun to go to) and we met our good friends Jamie and Joucken there for a meal and a bottle of wine. They each had a clue for me, too.

The last clue I got took us to the greenbelt. It's a beautiful hiking trail along a river, very popular, we spent a lot of time there the first summer we got together. And as he was leading me to the "present" he'd "hidden" there, our friend Joucken magically appeared with his camera. Cory got down on his knee and proposed to me there. I said yes and we hugged and kissed and went to meet my parents and my uncle for dinner to tell them the news.

It was a whirlwind of a day, I never knew what was coming next and I was just hit with surprise after surprise. It was wonderful. I'm very happy and wanted to share the experience lol

#personal / #long post