#i found a post that cut off before that line so went ahead and made it

[chirpsythismorning]

Hi.what make you believe byler is endgame and how do you think The Duffer will make them endgame?

There's a lot of different factors for why I believe byler is endgame. If it was only one or two or three or a single digit amount of things, then I'd probably be more skeptical. Instead it's so many things that I don't think I can even quantify with any number?

Long post ahead so queue for later if you must!

I used to ship milkvan back in the day, and that's probably because I watched the show once and fell for the whole boy meets girl trope as peak romance, without even thinking about it? Like my first time rewatching the show pre-s3, I remember only focusing on their scenes and even going as far as to skip entire episodes in s2 without them in it, so it's really no wonder I missed details that might have helped me understand the full picture.

I also don't get queer-baited, like ever. I have watched shows like Teen Wolf where fans loved sterek, and even though that show had a gay show-runner, it was obvious to me they were never going that route, despite kind of feeding fans over the years with banter between them. The problem was the details weren't pointing to them being endgame, they were pointing to stydia. With stydia, they were using color coding in their costumes and had the fucking red string of fate in the frame with them multiple times and they were having entire plot lines built up around sort of their feelings for each other. Then there's all the other shows out there like Supernatural and Sherlock, and to me, it just felt like two guys that had chemistry that fans read as romantic and were having fun with it, only for the writers to try to profit off of that hope fans had, just sort of fucking with fans for years without really going for it literally in the text of the story.

And even if they did (albeit extremely subtly) that's when you would see shows tend to kill off the characters. Because after years of queer-baiting, the only solution is to kill at least one off, after tricking a sector of your audience for so long. Because unfortunately, no, they're not going to end up together, so we just have to get rid of one of them to make it clear that it won't happen.

While I don't vividly remember the moment I dropped Milkvan and picked up byler, I do remember watching s3 for the first time and feeling like something was off. And then to humor my confusion, I went online and came across an analysis for the end of s3. Even though it did really made me think like 'woah.. what was that?', in the moment, I was still in a position to not want to fall for it because of all the queer-baiting out there. I'd never fallen for it before and I wasn't going to start now basically.

And then I didn't read any more theories after that, I just basically jumped into rewatching the show for fun again, without really thinking about it even, and without skipping this time. And I vividly remember the shed scene definitely had some romantic undertones going on. When the camera was focused on Mike talking to Will, we didn't get any reaction shots in between of Joyce and Jonathan. Whereas when Joyce and Jonathan talked to Will, we got Mike's reaction and both Jonathan and Joyce's kind of reactions to each others speeches in that moment, which was to obviously convey the familial bond going on. And so in contrast, seeing Mike's monologue to Will be isolated, without any cuts to the others reactions during, with intense close-ups of Mike and Will, with Mike literally having one by one teardrops falling down his face and him repeating softly you said yes, you said yes... That... Like it made me really start to consider it in that moment, based on my new potential understanding of the end of s3 and based on what I had found upon rewatching that time.

Even still though, I didn't let myself believe it. And maybe in large part it was bc I did like the idea of byler I guess? And so that made me want to be more cautious? Other times when I came across fans shipping queer pairings that weren't canon, it felt like harmless shipping to me, where like I got the appeal, but didn't like feel genuine intentional slow-burn chemistry? It was always a thing that at most I liked merely as fanon. And so I guess I was trying to prepare myself for that inevitable disappointment that it wasn't going to go any further than what it had?

Maybe it was also because I was holding onto this idea of milkvan I had at the beginning? An idea that in large part contributed to my ability to get hooked with the show in the first place? Boy meets girl is like the most universal trope in our society and it was easy to just go along with it when everyone else was.

But more than anything I do think it was because I thought it just had to be queer-bait like it's always has been. At best I thought maybe it would continue very vaguely in the subtext in s4, with like 1 or two scenes at most hinting at attraction? But we all know that's not what happened..

S4 promo dropped, and I remember being like well here goes. It had been over a year, almost two since I'd been exposed to the possiblity of byler, though I was going into it prepared to see Mike and El being perfectly in love and that they were just going to act like nothing had ever happened between Mike and Will.

But then that Cali poster dropped. And that had me reeling. I remember sending a text to my sister like 'QUEER-BAIT?' and she was like yep queer-bait. But that's also because she's in the mindset of someone that hasn't seen anything outside of watching the show, and while half paying attention at that. This is the first piece of evidence she is being presented with and so of course she is viewing it from a don't hope or assume that could ever happen bc it never happens lens.

Even that I took as maybe a reality check, that this meant nothing, but also at the same time, this is the Duffer Brothers? They're smart? Why would they apply the if boy is pointing his feet at you he is in love with you rule via New Girl, with Mike and Will in the Cali poster, for shits and giggles? When the whole point in those posters is to hide foreshadowing?

Regardless of how much it genuinely shocked me they were appearing to really play with this concept of Mike having romantic feelings for Will, I still didn't fully let myself think about it too much...

And then as s4 got closer and more stuff dropped and there was like a lot of promo hinting Will having feelings for Mike, that's when it really kicked in for me. And that's when I went back and rewatched and holy shit it suddenly became clear as fucking day. My excitement for Vol. 1 was insurmountable because I was just about to have all of these recent built up theories confirmed or denied.

When Vol. 1 finally premiered and it turned out Mike couldn't say I love you to El? And Will very clearly had feelings for Mike, staring at him constantly when he wasn't looking and conveniently with Mike's POV missing by comparison? There was just too much at play that perfectly set-up byler.

Mike having a hard time telling El he loves her, while also having a best friend beside him who is in love with him, like, that's sort of what makes it clear that this is them trying to create a conflict that easily transitions into this revelation that the reason why Mike couldn't commit to El was because he was struggling over repressed feelings for his best friend.

And then that doesn't even include all the details along the way that support it. Like closet scenes for example weren't able to be harmless anymore post-s3, they just weren't. That scene at the end with El and Mike in Will's room established this idea that Mike is in the closet, and s4 did not let up on that idea whatsoever.

We were being bombarded with very basic film techniques that any filmmaker would be thinking about to establish the story and setting and create a feeling to convey a message through all of that.

They did not need to have Mike sitting in front of his closet at the very start of s4. They did not have to have a one way sign pointing to it. They did not have to have two dudes with muscles on his walls while most of the other guys either have stuff completely unrelated to the human form or bikini clad woman. They did not have to show Mike in focus more while staring at Eddie fondly as he talks about DnD and getting out of Hawkins. They did not have to have Mike go searching for DnD replacements in the wrestling room and the art room followed by saying, I hate high school.

The I hate high school line is viewed by most of us as a throw away comedic sort of line. But it really isn't. In fact it's arguably as deep as without heart we'd all fall apart, which is why they literally had that be Mike's quote alongside that one being Will's quote for the season.

Mind you, all of this shit in 4x01 is happening after Mike just episodes ago, in the previous season, sort of treated playing DnD like it was something kids did and told Will he felt this way, by essentially saying he assumed they'd be getting girlfriends and moving on from this idea that they can play games for the rest of their lives.

So Mike in s3 went from I want to grow up and have a girlfriend and stop playing dnd bc it is childish, to in s4 Do you want to play with me? I will literally settle for an absolute stranger rn, literally anyone? No? Uh. I hate high school aka I don't want to grow up. Now he thinks that he's the childish one when really, it doesn't have to be, if he just opened his mind to it.

Watching s3-4 back to back is actually so real bc it's showcasing Mike's complete shift, a shift that basically got flipped from s1-2 to s3 to s3 to s4, and it's directly related to his relationship with El and Will (along with his parents who all of s2 punished him by taking away his toys when he acted out bc of trauma/called his toys hunks of plastic and to essentially be used as collateral bc he's going to need to grow up eventually anyways). And we see how that is conveyed when he shows up to Cali unlike his true self, he just reverts right back to trying to be someone else like in s3. Only now he's trying to pull off a Cali look on-top of it, wearing sunglasses as he mumbles an incoherent sound, something like, 'eahauw' as he rushes up to kiss and hug El, putting the flowers between them so he had an excuse to separate sooner than later, followed actually voicing words to will, moving his duffel back out of the way to hug will properly, w/out sunglasses, visibly very happy to see Will, only to not even be able to hug him by cutting it short. AND for Argyle to confirm our suspicions by calling him a knock off?? NOW I'M REALIZING IT'S TOO MUCH YELLOW? Come on!?

That's another thing, the end of s3 hug between Will and Mike literally ends with Mike looking like he is in physical pain. Like dude looks like he was burned. He looks like a mixture of angry and heartbroken. And so having that, followed up with Mike barely even being able to properly hug Will properly 2 episodes later..? Gee I wonder why?

And then it just spirals from there.

The entire season Mike is by definition emotionally cheating on El, assuming that they are even technically still together atp. There's a reason they had her say From El, and it's so that there was this sense of maybe they were technically broken up now or even just on a break rn, since they wouldn't see each other for who knows how long? Maybe never again? And so that was a writing choice made in large part to allow all of these moments between Mike and Will throughout the season to feel romantic coded and for us to comfortably view them as such. Same with how they did that with Jonathan and Nancy in s2. They create conflict that is near breakup territory, without outright saying I want to break up, and then they throw them with their other love interest and create tension.

When it comes to like how I think s5 could go down with byler, I have a few different thoughts about how that would play out. Obviously I love byler but there's a lot of other stuff going on so this would just be one aspect of the greater overall story. But for the sake of this post I'm going to focus on Byler possibilities.

Them holding off until Vol. 2, literally 2 weeks exactly after the premiere, to have Noah officially release a statement saying We now know Will is 100% gay and in love with Mike, that is them clearly knowing the gravity of revealing stuff too soon to an audience that might not be ready for it. They saw the reaction to s4 and they waited and then they made that choice to discuss it the way they did. That was the point they decided they were willing to tell the truth of the situation, including Noah admitting for the first time, that they've been hinting at Will's feelings since s1, and so he had to always be vague about things to avoid spoiling the Duffers surprise. And while they're doing this, when they talk about Mike's feelings about the situation, it is always that he has absolutely no idea.

There would be no justifiable reason to hold off on admitting Will's feelings for Mike outside of canon, only to admit they've been hinting at it since s1, if there wasn't actually something yet to see be revealed, making this revelation so late in the game, justifiable.

The main thing that we get from Mike being oblivious of Will's feelings, is that if Mike doesn't know, then technically he hasn't rejected Will yet. Because how can he have rejected Will if he has no idea? Answer, he can't!

And so now there is one season left and they are choosing to hold off on Mike's knowledge about Will's feelings? After they just finally admitted after 4 seasons that they've been avoiding telling us about Will's feelings, despite hints from the beginning because they didn't want to ruin the surprise?

What surprise though bro? Slow-burn unrequited love??? There isn't any such thing. Because that wouldn't be satisfying!

It takes us right back to the line Will makes in s3 (mid-series) to Joyce about how he's never gonna fall in love. It's not that he doesn't want to or even hasn't yet at all, it's that he doesn't believe experiencing mutual love with the person he has feelings for is in the cards for him, bc odds are, that person is going to be straight.

But... How is it satisfying to hold off on even admitting Will's feelings for Mike until the second to last season, only to hold off on Mike's POV of the situation until the last season, just to say at the last minute, Well, Will, you were right!...? Like, no.

And so I genuinely think the same thing they did with Will is happening to Mike in a sense, in that by sort of dancing around the situation with answers that don't even allow you to answer the question, by saying Mike is clueless, they can avoid delving into what exactly Mike would think. They can just say Oh of course he will accept Will and leave it at that.

The thing is, if I'm supposed to be rooting for Mike and El, these choices that they've been making, to practically infect all of their scenes with Will in the frame looking like a kicked puppy, it's not giving endgame, it's giving I should be praying for this kid to get a happy ending who is fully convinced that he won't get it.

The main question I have, is are they going to hold off the slow-burn for as long as they can, or are they going to do something unprecedented and make it happen sooner than anyone expects?

I guess for now I think that it's the most likely they will hold off until 5x07 for like the big obvious endgame moment? Slow-burn tends to thrive in it's true form, aka slow-burn until the very end. So it would make sense to have these barriers in place that prevent Mike and Will from truly realizing they have mutual feelings or something of that nature, and then acting on it. That doesn't mean the audience wouldn't be clued in on those feelings earlier in the season, but I think them both accepting those feelings and coming together and choosing to be together is something that won't be like established fully until the end.

THOUGH I will say there is one scenario I could see them manage to have Mike and Will realize those feelings sooner than we think and it's because of the satanic allegations... If Will and Mike were to ever get caught in a precarious situation, by someone in the town already accusing these kids of being the cause, specifically Mike as a member of Hellfire and specifically Will as the kid who has been connected to all of this, it would be sort of visceral seeing how that could play out with them being viewed as like a symbolic indicator of the incoming apocalypse.

Though then again, they still might not get together until like episode 7, bc with the last couple episodes being like 2 hours long, it's possible the homophobic/satanic aspect of it could come into play around then. I think it would be really critical to see other peoples reactions in the story to them getting together, including their family and friends, but also potentially the community bc that would go full circle with what went down in s1 and how like the whole community had an opinion about Will's sexuality even as a kid.

Early s5 is a big indicator of how everything will go down though. I don't think that they'll get separated and be apart the whole season, bc they made a point to convey in s4 that they want to make sure to give the audience a lot of groundwork to root for them and so I think s5 has to be much of the same for it to end in a way that has most of the audience full-on rooting for them and just screaming at their screen for them to kiss already.

However, I do think it's possible we could see them get separated for like 1 episode, maybe 2 but probably not 2 full episodes, I think the reunion would happen sometime at the end of 1 or 2 episodes.

I think Will is likely going to be targeted by Vecna, arguably already was at the end of s4, and then there's birthdaygate to address. Maybe he gets forgotten by everyone as a result of the memory/time trickery that Vecna has going on. And so we could see that play a role in them being separate for a bit while that is resolved, which would likely be early s5, to sort of mirror early s1. But then I think they would reunite by like the 3rd episode and work together most of the season as a team. And we will probably be aware of Mike's feelings in these moments because we would've just presumably gotten a bunch of parallels to s1 and considering Mike and El are broken up, it's going to be difficult to see Mike be so up in arms about Will after all of that romantic subtext, only to be with him and be looking at him like he hung the stars and shit. Even if Will isn't doing the same bc he's like convinced himself at this point Mike doesn't like him back, that would just make it even more clear bc it would be them finally showing us Mike's POV, after hiding it so much in s3-4. It would also sort of wake up those fans who had insisted Mike couldn't feel the same bc there would be no reason to do all of that for nothing.

Another way I could see it going down is by Mike basically somehow making 'a deal with god' (Vecna) that takes him instead. Maybe it's about saving Will who is trying to sacrafice himself already. Or maybe it's a way to save Max and it's sort of a last minute thing that is intended to cause them a lot of grief. Bc we know Vecna loves fucking with them. This would fit into the whole without heart we'd all fall apart, and the whole how am I gonna survive a whole week w/out you guys and Mike getting out in the DND game at the start of s4, along with like the whole theory about how if a paladin breaks an oath they basically have to go on a mini self discovery journey and can essentially be reinstated and forgiven by a cleric (Will). That would fit very very well into the imagery we got of Mike sitting down on Jonthan's bed with the upside down tapestry behind him, followed by Will sitting down beside him + Mike sitting down on the upside down couch at the cabin, followed by Will sitting down beside him. Meaning basically Mike would end up in the upside down and Will would follow behind him.

And I think in that scenario we might be seeing some things from Mike's POV that we have overlooked before, or maybe even things they have deliberately kept from us for the sake of saving it for later. Maybe that unused footage of him crying biking home after they found Will's body, or maybe they re-contextualize the cliff scene in a way that sort of frames Mike as feeling like he deserved to die that day bc after everything that happened with El, maybe he doesn't feel like he deserved to be saved by her, like Vecna just overwhelms him with the guilt that's been piling up for years, which led him to that failed monologue.

Also I think there is a very specific reason they chose to not use the song Time After Time in Max's memory of the Snow Ball in s4, and that's because they're saving it for s5. Every Breath You Take was regarded by most the fandom as a Milkvan song, and if anything it fit with all of them dancing more than it did specifically with Max's memory from that day. So them bringing that back for s4 felt like a combination of the Vecna foreshadowing and also them refusing to use Time After Time quite yet... Time After Time started playing right when Lucas asked her to dance, they easily could have used that song instead and left Every Breath You Take for s5 for a milkvan montage, hell Time After Time even would have fit well with the whole clock theme going on in s4.

But, I genuinely think it's because they're holding off on fully, in canon, re-contextualizing our understanding of that Snow Ball scene when it comes to Mike and Will's perspective of it. And how that song would fit into that revelation is a little to perfect to pass up, again on a show that has made a big deal about clocks and also has connected Will/Mike to the clock in Starcourt with the Yellow and Blue hands ie you say go slow I fall behind-- the second hand unwinds is fucking clock coded bro???

They are 100% saving that clock ass song for the end and that just tells me byler has to be endgame bc that song literally ended right before El entered the gym, it has no association to them, only to either Lucas/Max, Dustin/Nancy, or Mike/Will. That's it.

And so arguably the build up of Mike and Will is the only way to satisfyingly bring that song back full circle.

I guess I'll keep it simple and say that I think one of them are going to go missing/dissapear/be taken (something along those lines) early s5, and the other is going to find them and they're going to be a team basically. I think there could be 1-2 episodes of them alone sort of in the pits of the UD (Hell vibes). Maybe there's an almost kiss in those moments, or maybe even an official one bc them being alone finally is what grants them the courage to do what they haven't been able to do in the real world without the fears of the real world stopping them?

Though I do think that they will reunite with the others after 1-2 episodes alone. And so most of the season will be them teamed up with the og party and also having interactions with other characters along the way as well.

I do think a Murray/Byler confrontation is inevitable. I do think a Will & Robin confrontation is inevitable. I do think it's possible Mike could be exposed to the idea of having a gf then a bf (and vs) by Vickie in the case that Mike finds out bisexuality is real and an option. Bc tbh it's still something people today don't know about. So I don't think Mike Wheeler in 1986 Hawkins, Indiana would, though again maybe an interaction with Vickie could change that. Either that or Robin, Vickie and Steve are going to see Mike call Fast Times overrated and they're all going to share a look and that's when we'll know...

I do think that Will is going to have a hard time believing Mike could feel the same, even when presented with evidence? Not only does he have his insecurities in the way, but he also views El as his sister now (hell she might even actually turn out to be his twin). Even though Mike is his best friend, he's going to want it to be crystal clear that El supports it before Mike ends up being in their family via them being partners at some point. That's just who Will is as a character. He's just going to assume he is wrong for wanting that considering everything that has led up to this point.

And i think El is the kind of character that, no, she wont be like ecstatic about how this all played out and how she didn't need to get her heartbroken, but I don't think that feeling will last forever. I think they might have a little sibling talk about lying, assuming she finds out about the painting and what he said to Mike about her commissioning it. That would be a good parallel to her and Will at Rink-O-Mania when he chastised her for lying to Mike? Essentially an Oh how the turntables moment? Even so, when it's all said and done, she's going to make it clear to Will that she supports him fully.

And I think the same applies to Mike who also is going to want closure that they are okay and still friends and love each other as friends/family.

I think how all of this plays out would be very intricate, yes, but largely keeping in mind that they want us to like this ending and not be bitter about it, and so they're going to have to convince us that we want to fully let go of Mike and El and to root for Mike and Will.

This so called love triangle doesn't have equal stakes to the stancy/jancy one because we're dealing with an audience that has been completely left in the dark, now being bombarded. They have to try really hard to convince the audience to be on board with this, and also avoid homophobia in the process. They're going to have to make it very, very clear there are no more romantic feelings for Mike and El happening. Especially since we're ending the show with them in a sibling dynamic because of their relationships with Will. It would be gross to have this level of well maybe one day he could change his mind I mean he did that once before. Nope. It would be okay to have that sort of left unanswered with the stancy/jancy parallels bc we're not dealing with people being related to each other and swapping back and forth. That's why it needs to be clear in their situation.

And I do think that's why they did the whole I love you 9 times with Mike's monologue. Because it can't go up from there, there is nothing left for them to do after going all out like that, only to reveal Mike meant it deep down platonically? I mean what could they possibly do to backtrack? Have him give her another love confession where he says it 20x and adds no but fr this time?? No. They had to go all out like that to give those viewers what they wanted, the most they could possibly get and then say, sorry it's not happening. It essentially made it impossible to hope for it bc there's nothing left to hope for.

When it comes to byler and like these major moments that are bound to occur between them, I am genuinely most looking forward to them hugging again for the first time since the end of s3. That to me is going to be even more exciting than a kiss honestly (not saying I don't want a kiss but you know what I mean). And it's bc from a hug alone, I think we'll be able to tell that what's going on between them isn't platonic and that will in turn add so many layers to past seasons. I think it's also likely we'll get an almost kiss or two before the inevitable, and that would then make the slow-burn stretching until the end worth it, to me at least? Because just throwing them together never works when the formula has always been to hold off.

And that's also why the show has to end now. We can't have 6,8, 10 seasons of slow-burn, it would be exhausting. 5 seasons is the perfect amount. And having all of that angst and tension and heartache lead to a happy ending is going to make all of those moments in between that fans fought over for being critical of, sort of just dwindle to epic angst that was necessary to appreciate the happy ending.

#byler #byler ask #this was long but i hope i got the point across #basically i never allowed myself to believe byler until i was fully confident in it #it was never about shipping two characters simply bc it was a queer ship and i always get queer-baited or something #(nothing is wrong with getting queer-baited a lot either bc the problem is showrunners fucking with fans not the fans themselves) #it wasn't about holding onto said queer ship bc i can't let shit go #I never allowed myself to believe it until it was undeniable to me #byler not ending up together wouldn't make me heartbroken or lose sleep #i would just genuinely be confused bc the show would have prioritized building up byler for years all for nothing... #like it would just be the most anticlimatic ending #not only would the gays be pissed #but so would the ga that doesn't even like milkvan anymore and is just dying for something better to come along #but it is happening... #so i'm sat #i'm excited to see how it plays out #i'm excited to be surprised bc the st writers ALWAYS pleasantly surprise me #s4 is a great example of that #most pleasant surprise i have ever experienced #so i am looking forward for them to keep that streak going

[lavendertwilight89]

24 Poll Hour Challenge Results!

You came, you voted, and now, the sentences for each fic! The results definitely surprised me, but hopefully this lives up to the hype! (I def just started writing and didn't count sooooo your votes counted!)

Here we go, in order from lowest to highest vote count!

Spoilers beneath the cut

Bad Blood

“Ah fuck, you two are banging again, aren’t you?”

Inuyasha was about to kill his only other friend in the world. He needed to remind himself how stupid his friend was–and–

“Oof,” Miroku groaned, as he smacked himself into Kagome’s barrier. Ha. Inuyasha almost hoped Miroku broke his nose. “Whyyyyy—”

“Because you annoy me,” Kagome said, sipping her tea as she read the paper on Inuyasha’s bed in his long tee-shirt.

Devil Devil

(Disclaimer: This is like 3 chapters ahead from my last post--sorry--I'll try to beta and read this week)

Brushing my teeth with the extra toiletries the hotel provided helped with the lingering headache and stomachache. We had gotten at least twelve hours of sleep from when we checked into the hotel room and laid down, minus the quick spat from my friend who was still convinced I had a death wish. The sleep had definitely helped my body and hopefully some food would be the final nail in the chiffon to whatever else seemed to be aching. 

"You sure about this?" Inuyasha asked from the door as I spit the toothpaste into the sink and rinsed my mouth out with water.

"What do you mean?" I asked as I turned towards him, wiping my mouth off the bubbly white lining.

"You goin' with. I can handle the two that are after your other friends."

"While I'm sure you can, I want to be there and while I know you're nervous since I'm kinda beat up, we both know you're better with me nearer than away." Inuyasha didn’t deny nor confirm my haughty statement, which meant I was right. 

“I don’t like it.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I hate all of this if anyone is asking for my opinion,” Shippo added.

“No one did,” Inuyasha growled.

I sighed. My head hurt. They were riding my last nerve. And I really just wanted a nap.

Head Above Water

The wedding went off without a hitch. Kikyo almost seemed happy to marry the stoic bastard, and Sesshomaru almost seemed relieved he was taking the figurative arrow in the chest. But ultimately, it didn’t matter; what did matter was how beautiful Kagome looked in his eyes… Sango had really done her job. She was wearing an aquamarine dress, one that made her eyes sparkle, and make-up that didn't hide her natural beauty, nor made her look like she belonged totally.

Kagome was born to stand out– she was a fucking mermaid! 

After the wedding, his father and mother blocked him from making any advances like he wanted to and Kagome was whisked away. While it pissed Inuyasha off to no end, he imagined it was to protect her from Kikyo’s family wrath. 

Kikyo and Sesshomaru immediately went to forge the bond (something the humans were uncomfortable with knowing) but moved the great hall for the food and to await to marking celebration. Inuyasha, however, had other ideas.

Dog Demon War

Kagome found it odd being home. She wanted so badly to try and use the well–try to desperately get back to her Inuyasha–her friends–her family–

But there was a tremendous fear of even trying to time travel after that experience.

Her friends have been killed.

Her friends died before her very eyes.

She had died.

Their child had been killed within her womb.

Her hands trembled as she brought them to cover her face, trying to block out all the memories of the alternate timeline, trying to escape into the peacefulness of the wind blowing gently as she sat on the stone bench beneath the sacred tree. The smell of green tea enter her nose and startled her, making her whip her head up and see the violet eyes of her future daughter.

“Here you go, Mama,” Izayoi said sweetly, handing her the cup before sitting down next to her.

The gentle draping of a blanket over her shoulders made her almost jump until Izayoi rested her hand on her shoulder. Two golden orbs appeared in front of her, blinking, making her giggle from the curiosity. 

“Moroha, hi,” Kagome greeted.

Shelter

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

How was Naraku alive? How was he in their hut? How was that damn puppet surrounding them with his vines?

His evil laugh was menacing and shook him through his human body. Inuyasha had only one thing on his mind, even though his mind screamed to run and get away: protect Kagome.

Love Again

“So aside from animal cruelty, why don’t you eat meat?” Inuyasha asked as he bit into his hamburger.

“Personal choice, I guess. I never loved it–not really. Then I guess when I was out on my own I just made the decision to cut it out. If I was cooking for me or ordering for me, why did I have to have something I didn’t need or really want?”

“So, you can make decisions then.”

“Look here,” Kagome scoffed, narrowing her eyes to see the smirk in Inuyasha’s, glowing and making her heart do backflips and nearly come up her throat.

It sucked that she was…stuck. In her current predicament. Her shoulder hurt. She was constantly on too strong pain-killers. But she was pretty sure one good rub of the fabric between her legs would make her orgasm. Kagome wanted Inuyasha.

It had been a long time. A long time. She hadn’t lied or exaggerated about that. But she was just tired of dating–tired of screwing random people–an itch was better satisfied using a vibrator or her fingers than a stranger who clearly had no idea how to use his fingers. 

But Inuyasha was too–protective. Genuine. Kind. Kagome was still pretty certain he was in denial and wanted to wait for things to evolve more after her shoulder was healed. But that didn’t kill her lady-boner.

Holding out for a Hero

They didn’t emerge from their room for a couple of days. Sango had taken to making sure they were getting meals, knocking the door and calling to them before disappearing. Kagome could only surmise that it was instinct pulling to bond over and over. She blushed, thinking it didn’t help how amazing it felt for him to make her release over and over, as well. She heard a chuckle, the slight exhale causing her ear to flicker (something she was still getting used to day in and day out), and turned her head to see him smiling down at her. He kissed her shoulder and heart fluttered in response.

They were married. 

They were officially bonded. 

“We probably need to show our faces, lord husband,” she purred (literally) and blushed at the sound coming from her chest. Again, she still wasn’t quite used to the changes within and around her body.

Inuyasha chuckled again and nuzzled his face against her back, “They woulda came knockin’ if things were fallin’ apart.”

“Inuyasha—”

“This is our room. This is our space. What if it’s different out there?”

His vulnerability surprised her. Turning in his arms so that she was cradled by him instead of being spooned, she brought her hands to his face and carefully traced his cheekbones in comfort before going straight to his ears. “Nothing is different here than out there. I am wedded to you–body and soul. Let us show them–show everyone how I have dedicated myself to you. Also, I think we need to let others know that we will not be taking over this region, do you not agree?”

willow

(disclaimer--again, like 3 chapters ahead from my last post--another one I'm slowly getting through)

Kagome sighed and pouted a bit and he realized he was being a jackass. “Sorry, ‘Gome. I—I guess I just feel bad that you’re stuck there and you’re stressed out. It wasn’t supposed to be like this when you came. I–I let you down.”

“How did you do that?? You didn’t create the pandemic or this virus. This is just a tough spot,” Kagome tried to soothe. “I’m just being a baby and sensitive.”

“Keh. You have every right to be when you’re there with Emily.”

“Inuyasha, be nice. You know that she isn’t my main stressor. It’s been alright–just you know–a little weird since you’ve been gone for so long.”

“She still being fair?” Inuyasha asked, ears perked up and ready to jump through the screen if he had to in order to protect Kagome. Emily wasn’t mean or ill-spirited but he also wasn’t sure exactly what to expect from her either with him gone.

“Of course. She is still very grateful for the room and board.”

“Any word on her moving out?”

“No. None. But uh–about that–”

“What,” Inuyasha growled in annoyance.

Kagome scoffed and rolled her eyes. “I haven’t really pushed the idea on her just with everything going on.”

“Amazon packages still arriving?” Inuyasha questioned flatly and Kagome pursed her lips and nodded in response along with naming a couple of other different ones that had made their way to their doormat. “Yeah, she does that.”

“I just, uhm–I don’t know if it’s my place to say anything about it?”

“I guess if we want her out–”

“It’s fine for now!” Kagome cut him off, frantically, a forced smile on her face and turned away from the monitor. “Hey Em! Dinner??” 

Kagome, still protecting people who didn’t deserve it. Typical. At least she was acting like her normal self. “Whatever. We don’t gotta talk about that. But go ahead and get food, I need to get myself something too.”

“Oh! By the way, did Miroku text you?” Kagome asked, turning back to him.

Inuyasha raised his eyebrow and looked down at his phone and realied that yes, the idiot had messaged him and he’d just ignored it. Talking to Kagome and playing Candy Crush just happened to be more important. He opened the text and it said ‘Game night?’ “I guess he means a virtual game night?”

“Yeah, Sango got an app for school to help everyone relax a little bit to get up and stretch so she has tons of online games we can play together.”

“Sure, why not. Not like you can throw the coffee-table when you get mad for losing and this time, you can’t accuse no one of cheatin;.”

“Don’t act like you know me,” Kagome said, sticking her tongue out. That’s the Kagome he knew.

~~~~

Day 10

thanks everyone! hope you all know how much i appreciate everyone's support over the past couple of months with everything going on my with mom! i hope this also keeps your hope alive that i have not stopped writing nor do i plan to! just slowly chippin away!

#lavendertwilight89 fanficition #inuyasha fanfiction #inukag fanfiction #inukag #bad blood #devil devil #ddw #the great dog demon war #head above water #willow #love again #holding on for a hero #shelter #wips #my wips #sneak peaks

[coffeeandcalligraphy]

No Christ | BODY BACK Update #4

We're totally going to ignore the fact that it's been 4 months since I last posted a writing update for this book! :)

If you aren't aware, from February-June I drafted a litfic novella called BODY BACK and this is the penultimate update! Harrison has a Shrek moment, feels existentially directionless, imagines a future with Jeremiah--and more! Post under the cut.

Logline: When the effects of 24-Karat Harrison wear off, Harrison is left to mend his fractured relationship with Jeremiah.

Update 1 | Update 2 | Update 3

BODY BACK taglist (please ask to be added or removed :))

@thelivingdeceased @writinglittlebeasts @cuntylittlesalmon @obssesedwithscandaledits @jaydewritesfiction@onomatopiya @euphoniouspandemonium @silassghost @strangerays @rodentwrites @wildswrites @saltwaterbells @encrucijada @cilantrospirit @kiki-is-writing

Writing when life changes & the impacts of place on process

So WHYYY did it take so long for this update to come out? WELL, I wrote the chapter three (24-Karat Harrison) update THE DAY I moved from my university city, and while that went well, the act of changing setting seriously disturbed my writing process.

I'd gotten very used to creating BODY BACK in a very specific way in a very specific place/in certain locations and hadn't considered that a drastic shift in my literal setting could jilt the actual book--as if it too had undergone a major change.

Writing in May was like learning a new craft all over again, which was beyond disorienting. My anxiety was at an all-time high, and No Christ really took the brunt of that discomfort. But now that the book is long over, I'm ready to finish up the updates!

Repetition turns into theme...

Early in writing BODY BACK (chapter 2), I wrote the phrase "Harrison's no Christ," which I then unexpectedly repeated several times in 24kH which made me realize "No Christ" would make a great title.

But "no Christ" wasn’t JUST repetition—the act of repetition created a theme. I love when smaller line-level literary devices can lend to MUCH larger things!

What does it mean to reach a climax of personhood (so you feel like a god) the night before, only to feel godless the next day after the excitement is over? The idea of "no Christ" isn't just that Harrison has no god to follow. I DID want to capture that feeling of faithlessness--when the prayers stop working, when God seems nowhere to be found, but I also wanted to EMBODY "no Christ." How IS Harrison "no Christ" despite seeing himself that way in 24kH?

The plot

No Christ takes place just a few hours after the end of 24-Karat Harrison.

Scene A:

Harrison, who fell asleep in a church, is awoken by a priest.

Scene B:

After disrupting the church service, Harrison heads to the parking lot where he sees a man who looks like his ex, Lonan.

Scene C:

Exhausted from the night before and shaken from the parking lot, Harrison returns to Jeremiah's apartment where he rejects Jeremiah's concern.

Scene D:

Harrison showers the remainders of 24-karat Harrison off, but feels crushed and directionless without the persona. Jeremiah attempts to comfort him.

Scene E:

To help Harrison's hangover, Jeremiah takes him to the restaurant his friend Biyu works at, but her bad impression of Harrison puts him in an awkward position.

Scene F:

Harrison and Jeremiah head to the Greta Arquette, the hotel Jeremiah works at, in a rush of connection.

Excerpts

CW: Mature content ahead. Implications of sex and suicidal ideation. Descriptions of violence.

The opening lines (WHICH apparently tiktok liked):

Harrison wakes to God’s eyes. Dim in this light like a rusted goblet of wine or blood or whatever the fuck. Sad, he thinks. Lusting. Violent in brass.

That leads into a really *sudden* and *intense* recollection of the night previous when Harrison encounters a man named Perry (a friend of Jeremiah's). It's very SUDDEN and very INTENSE lol so here's just a little bit:

They kissed to the sound of someone crying, touched each other the way he imagined Lucifer and Judas might. God’s most hated sons united in exile.

More Harrison and Perry (CW: violence)

As saliva snailed Harrison’s cheeks, he stared at the bathroom ceiling for a hand to reach for him, for a grave to appear. With Perry, he was the runoff, the ashes, the scraps of diary entries dashed into a wastebin. And this was all good, the spit, his desire to be both saved and dead, because it was motivation to knock a fist into Perry’s jaw so he clattered to the floor. He wasn’t the leftovers. The bronze medal. No one could make him feel that way again.

Harrison observes churchgoers:

His jaw overhangs the pew in front of him, a line of drool bisecting the wood. People scoot past him to take their seats—not just people, but believers, all cleanly pressed and ready for god. They’re wearing wingtips buffed with mink oil and Mary Janes heavy enough to bludgeon someone to death.

Harrison becomes interested in the choir when he sees a cute guy (REALLL):

A choir sets up by the frontmost row, unwinding cables, tuning guitars. One woman adjusts her eggplant vest while another fixes her own curl with spit. A married couple flits through sheet music and discuss their kid’s birthday party—little Timothy, little Michael, little James, or whatever generic name. A man with sparkly eyes and a faint scar from a lip piercing smiles at him from the piano. “What are they doing over there?” Harrison asks. The priest bristles. “Who?” “Those people. They’re a choir? I can sing.”

Cont'd - shrek moment/sir this is a place of worship:

He’s aware he’s being loud. He doesn’t need the stares as confirmation. What the fuck does anyone have to stare at anyway? Sure he’s a man with smeared silver eye makeup and mascara tears and a fur coat and another man’s chandelier earring and a cow-print cowboy hat, and what’s this too now, a pair of studded DKNY sunglasses that most certainly aren’t his—but what right do they have? He doesn’t waste his time with gods. He doesn’t need someone to save him at all. And here all these beady people are, their synthetic chiffon dresses like wannabe Charlotte’s webs, their bowties near strangling. They’ve woken up at dawn to do what? Beg a man who won’t listen to them? He’s been there, fucking done that. “Do any of you want pitchforks?” Harrison’s voice booms across the nave, his cheeks flaring.

We find out Harrison stole Perry's moped:

The priest jumps back as he rises, shaking out his sleeves. The movement sends a slim pair of keys flying toward the floor, but not just any keys. The image is as fleeting as a View Master’s neon shuffle, Harrison sweaty and rumpled on the bathroom floor, his head spinning like a taut thread around a spindle. In the velvet night, he hustled toward the club’s parking lot, not thinking about the man he’d abandoned in the stall, not thinking about the man he’d come here with. Something crushed under his boot—baby pink rose petals against the rain-dark pavement, Hansel’s pebbles that drew him forward and when his eyes landed on a teal moped parked in the lot’s north end, his focus was only on how good wind would feel through his too-long hair.

Harrison considers choir man’s potential life:

Harrison leaves when the choir’s mid Holy, Holy, Holy. He only stayed that long, skulking around the backmost pews, to stare at the way choir man’s Adam’s apple bobbed. He imagined kissing that spot. If it tasted like bergamot. If it tasted like eucharist. Maybe that man had a lover waiting at home for him who knew—a coppery chem student who’d kiss him wildly between whispered verses of Revelations, their penance to each other in evenings just as dozy as it was holy.

Harrison wonders what happened to Jeremiah after he left him at the club:

Where is Jeremiah now? Perhaps he found a ride back to his apartment complex with a man he invited inside, someone with tawny hair, jetty eyes. Harrison knows his place in Jeremiah’s life, in Jeremiah’s bed, but what’s he like alone? Perhaps he and the man touched gracefully like swans, recited Whitman on the carpet, shared a bunch of green grapes, talked about prophets, prayed the rosary.

Harrison notices a man who he thinks is Lonan (HE IS NOT):

In a past life, that lack of noticing would’ve been impossible, a fatal wound. But there he is, barely aware of the oil-dark hair—just a flash in the corner of his eye—rounding the parking lot. It’s that fast. His head snaps up and then he’s seeing him, his narrow body, his darting walk, his subtle clefted waves. He doesn’t need to check for the eyes, unmarred like the sky, because he’s running now, hat clattering off his forehead, held narrowly against his neck by the stampede strings. The man walks past a silver Acura—he’s a member of the congregation. Of course. But not just any member. This is where he’s been. On lonely midnights, Harrison’s wondered against all his admittance where he’s been in this city—if they’ve touched the same pavement, if they’ve cried at the same intersections. He’s dreamt about him, he’ll admit now, yearned for his hands again, their bony blueness, their abundant warmth. They’re dancing again in a cramped bathroom, in need of no other music but the other’s heartbeat. They’re blinking into cameraflash, silent as a Polaroid prints, holding each other the way the ocean holds itself. As Harrison runs, his face splits into a grin—relief, of course, because he’s hungry for that touch again, terrifying, careful, and here he is, approaching a car—a car, he’s driving—wearing a blue corduroy jacket, reaching for his keys, he’s leaving, he’s going to leave— Harrison yanks the man’s shoulders, his mouth formed so confidently around the name Lonan that he chokes the moment he sees the face.

Aaaand, how to get punched really fast by a stranger who has no idea why you're running up to him (CW: graphic violence):

When Harrison says nothing, too focused on the necklace, too focused on who isn’t standing in front of him, a fist clips his mouth and splits his lip right open. Blood starbursts the air, spats against the car’s windshield, his jaw cranking toward the sky, but he doesn’t notice the crows above or the flossy clouds because it’s August in the cabin again and there are Lonan’s knuckles connecting with his nose, an accident on purpose, his blood mirrored in that bathroom, and there are Perry’s callused hands, sharp with hangnails, steeled with rings, and Harrison might’ve been choked last night, might’ve wanted that, doesn’t want to remember at all. God makes men in his image, and those men know violence like an oath, a birthright.

Jeremiah questions Harrison about stealing Perry's moped:

Harrison adjusts the cowboy hat over his eyes. Segments of light shift through a hole in the crease. “I didn’t steal anything.” “So what were you doing with it?” “Borrowing it.” “Like my ring?” Harrison sits up, removes the hat from his eyes. The room re-saturates like a kitchen sponge in sudsy water and there’s Jeremiah. Clear-skinned, bright-eyed Jeremiah. He doesn’t look like a man who shared a joint with Harrison last night, who drank just as many cocktails on that dance floor and perhaps even more. He’s changed into a pair of ironed jeans and a white cotton button-up he hasn’t done up all the way. A gold herringbone necklace glints off his throat. Harrison sets the hat onto the chair arm. The moment it knocks against the fabric, he feels the urge to put it back on. “You said you weren’t upset about the ring.” Jeremiah opens his mouth. What’s he going to say? Fuck you. He could say that. He should. Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you. Or, Who the fuck do you think you are? Who the fuck do you think you are? Instead, he clasps his hands in front of him. “Perry’s not happy with you.” Harrison reaches into his pocket and yanks out the moped’s keys which are attached to a teal surfboard keychain. As he rises from the chair, he tosses the set with a clang and Jeremiah barely catches them. “He wasn’t happy about a lot of things.” “Where are you going?” Harrison rubs his eyes. In the momentary flashes of dark, he sees the face of the man from the parking lot. He can’t fight his own flinch. His lip throbs. He’d been so sure of himself. “To sleep.” “Perry says you tried to kill him.” Harrison laughs. “Good.” “Not good.” Jeremiah steps toward him. He smells of vanilla. Greek yogurt.

Harrison adventures in wanting to befriend animals pt. 2:

Maybe he’ll head out now. Walk west for forty minutes, find some water to touch, some better air to breathe. Jeremiah’s not all that far from Red Rock Canyon. He could lie in a field of larkspur, befriend a kit fox.

Harrison deflects emotional responsibility by asking about towels??:

Jeremiah sighs, crossing his arms. He must’ve washed his hair this morning too—it’s still damp at the roots and smells vaguely of roses. He deserves someone who’ll hold him on Thursday nights, who’ll watch reruns of Futurama with him on a blow-up mattress, pray for him in April and actually mean it. When he looks up, his eyes are rimmed clearish red—the same colour of a ruby. “Last night—you disappeared. I was worried.” Harrison looks away. Jeremiah’s tidied—no board game pieces scattered on the table, all the ashtrays cleaned out. The first time Harrison entered this apartment, he was overcome by its intricacy—the disco ball hung from the ceiling, the ivy clustered in beer bottles along the windowsill. Everything that makes Jeremiah’s space his. And he’s worried him in all this time. What must that be like? To make someone fear for you? “Where do you keep the extra towels?” Harrison asks and Jeremiah nearly deflates.

Jeremiah is concerned!!!

When Harrison opens his mouth, Jeremiah approaches him, takes his face so gently he winces. His hand is slippery with cocoa butter, breaths heavy, brows low. Harrison knows what this means. Concern. Maybe he’s afraid, too. But it doesn’t matter. It shouldn’t at all. One man’s worry is not his problem. Why would he care? Why would he? “What happened to you?” Jeremiah whispers. Perhaps he arrived home alone last night, stayed up till 5:00AM with his eyes staked by toothpicks. Perhaps this weekend is the worst thing that’s happened to him in a long time. If Harrison were someone else, he’d tell Jeremiah to run. Don’t waste time with shoes. Just throw open the front door and sprint barefoot into the neon street. Keep going until everything is a blur, until everything is the clearest it’s been in weeks. The farther away he gets, the better for him. He could learn how to crochet mug cozies. Buy himself a tomato plant. Spend his mornings in a sunny kitchen with a man who actually loves him.

Harrison has an existential crisis after a shower (CW: description of a bruise):

He glances at himself in the mirror, his shoulders hunched forward, hair veering into his eyes. A purple bruise rings his throat like a necklace of lavender pearls. The last time he’d looked at his reflection in this mirror, he’d found something hidden behind his face, gripped it, then tugged it right out with a tube of mascara and a ring finger loaded with silver eyeshadow. That’s all gone. He’s just a man now. Not naked like Michelangelo’s David, but naked like a stranger.

Jeremiah checks up on Harrison:

He imagines Jeremiah now. Leaning half his body weight against the door, his unbuttoned shirt parting with the movement. Perry’s already picked up the moped from outside. Jeremiah probably lied and said Harrison wasn’t there. In the wind, he might’ve said. Gone North to Missoula. Or maybe, Joined a travelling circus. Or, Took a red-eye to Florence. Or, I don’t care as long as he never comes back. All would’ve been suitable excuses because Jeremiah’s a good guy. A good friend. “I wanted to…” says Harrison, his chest rattling with an inhale. I wanted to: apologize. I wanted to: kiss you. I wanted to: say a prayer into your mouth. I wanted to: find you at sunset and link pinkies in dying grass and read screenplays from the 90s with your head on my chest and thank you like a real man should in the evenings and listen to your breaths when you fell asleep. I wanted to be alive. I wanted you there with me. The sound of Jeremiah shifting. What had he planned to do this September—before Harrison turned up at his apartment? On their first night reunited, they’d sipped mimosas while swapping Jeremiah’s Blackberry back and forth to play Brick Breaker, watched Psycho and only kissed at the ending credits. Jeremiah hadn’t even questioned why Harrison had turned up because he’s a good guy. A good friend. He knows Harrison could eat cinnamon on anything, that he’d gargle with black coffee if he could, that cymbals make his teeth ache, that he can’t tolerate the smell of chocolate anymore. Good guy. Good friend. In another life, they could’ve grown up together, played road hockey in humid Junes, shared a half-and-half ice cream cone, fallen for each other delicately. In another life, Harrison would’ve told Jeremiah he loved him and meant it.

At the restaurant, Jeremiah talks about his future (but does it include Harrison?):

It’s going to rain tomorrow, at least according to the mounted bubble TV on the restaurant’s far north side. Its grainy picture is suddenly the most pressing thing in this establishment—a headline about a collision on the I-80, an update on Katrina, a mass power outage in LA. Behind the screen is a window that leads to the kitchen, and Biyu’s face flashes through it every few minutes. He hasn’t even thought of calling Reeve since the last time he’d been in this restaurant, but he could now—find her in the Yellow Pages, invite her to dinner with him and Suz. Would she like that? Perhaps she’s the same woman who’d sat with him that sunny morning in Oregon, her legs stretched out in front of his and Lonan’s tent. There was something both blunt and guarded about her then. She wasn’t a woman, not a sister, not a friend, but a threat. “I’m thinking of heading east in the winter. Maryland. My grandma turns eighty.” Harrison turns to Jeremiah abruptly, his throat dry. “What?” “For a couple months, maybe. Might meet Rory in Hanoi in the spring. He’s thinking of staying there through the new year.” “What about Greta?” Harrison asks when the real question he should be asking is what about me? It takes him a moment to even register he’s gaping. “I’ll find something else to do. Dog-walking. Printmaking. I’m thinking of getting certified in hypnotherapy.”

After Biyu asks Harrison to pay for the bill and Jeremiah ends up footing it, he describes the atmosphere:

The air feels denser now, unstable like Jell-O. The last time he and Jeremiah were here, their relationship was gauzy, a fumbling newborn. But now something’s clotted. They’re unready again, so used to the other’s face they’ve become estranged.

Embarrassed, Harrison can't focus until Jeremiah makes (A VERY SWEET) deal (CW: suicidal ideation):

Harrison’s ears ring. He looks to the window like it’s an out when in reality, all that’s out there are a couple fir trees and a main road. An eighteen-wheeler whizzes by every few minutes. As Jeremiah talks about a paper he needs to turn in on Tuesday, Harrison imagines what those drivers are doing, thinking. One making plans to shoot darts at a dive bar with his brother, another answering a call from his wife to bring home a stick of butter, someone else considering flooring the pedal, letting go of the wheel. “You could come with me, you know.” Harrison looks up and finds Jeremiah’s eyes honeyed in a strand of sun. The realization is obvious: he’s an ember of a man—an effervescent, sacred light. “Come with you?” “Maryland. Hanoi. Dogwalking. Wherever we want to go.”

Harrison's response to the offer falls flat (this is kind of messy lol):

Harrison looks to his hands. He took off Jeremiah’s signet ring before his shower and forgot it on the bathroom sink. It looks like he’s returned it, when in reality, he hasn’t meant to. And then a touch at his hand and Harrison’s back in the dense Oregon woods, another man trailing a pinkie down each of his vertebrae like they were the keys of a flute, joining their fate lines as the sun sets, holding his face kindlier than he did a cigarette, his eyes coined by the moon. The contact is so unviolent, yet the moment Harrison winces, Jeremiah immediately pulls away, drops his hand to the booth’s seat. Harrison shakes. He can’t look at Jeremiah again, is afraid any more understanding will rive him right here. He’d become more of a nuisance than he already is if that were the case—blood on the ground, on the wall’s tiger. “I think I have a headache.” Jeremiah exhales but grabs his wallet. From a zippered pocket, he pulls out a Tylenol. “You need to eat something,” he says, waving over Biyu before Harrison can tell him not to, can tell him to please use this as an out, to please grab his things and beeline to the door and hitch a ride to somewhere gentler than Las Vegas, to someone more reliable. Jeremiah, just go, he could say. Jeremiah, it’s not too late for you. Jeremiah, adopt a dog who’ll love you. Jeremiah, change your locks. Jeremiah, learn how to refinish a deck this summer. Jeremiah, pick honeysuckle by the fistfuls. Jeremiah, laugh because it’s over. Jeremiah, never cry again. Jeremiah, the earth is vast. Jeremiah, there is still so much time to run.

I'M YOURS:

In a few months, Jeremiah won’t be the same person he is today. Whether he ends up out east or in an art class painting alla prima, he’ll change. He’ll make new friends in Baltimore, dance with them in Fell’s Point, photograph tree swallows together at Herring Run, kiss one of them in the state fair’s scorching sun. And that will be good for him. Harrison’s no Christ, no God. He’ll never be omnipotent. Yet, he is certain of this. “Jeremiah?” he interrupts. One day, Jeremiah will drive a silver birch Cadillac alone, inhale for three seconds as the wind rustles his hair. He’ll keep on that road for hours, count the red SUVs on the way, stop for lunch at a taco stand, buy tarry hot coffees from every gas station he passes. He’ll be an even better man. And Harrison? In a year, he could apprentice for a sculptor, make minimum wage flipping burgers on the weekends, memorize the Dewey Decimal System for fun. Maybe he’ll be like Rory, backpack somewhere no one knows him, somewhere with mountain ranges he doesn’t recognize, somewhere with suburbs and lawns, somewhere no one can find him ever again. But he’s here now, Jeremiah looking at him like he’s simultaneously a glass mid-fall and a glass worth piecing back together with school glue and some patience. Jeremiah, look at me a little longer, he could say. Jeremiah, I can’t remember the sound of my own name. Jeremiah, you’re birdsong in the winter, the first glimpse of sunrise. Jeremiah, I’m so sorry. Jeremiah, you’re young enough to forget all of this soon. Jeremiah, be tender while you can. Jeremiah, please go gently. Jeremiah— “I’m yours.”

HAREMIAH ROMANCE FUN (and what would a future with Jeremiah look like?):

Jeremiah’s got a key to Greta—room 118 to be exact. In the dim fizz of a tungsten sconce, he leads Harrison through the doorway and kisses him as soon as the door clicks behind him, urgent and careful at the same time. Harrison catches himself on the wall, right next to an oil painting of a wide prairie. He wraps his arms around Jeremiah’s neck, winds one of his curls around his pinkie, pulls him so close their pelvises touch. Don’t let go of me, he could say as Jeremiah thumbs his eyebrows, bows for another kiss. Don’t let go of me. They don’t go slow nor fast, but a pace tempered like drizzling honey. It isn’t even really about touching. As Harrison mentally connects the umber flecks of Jeremiah’s eyes like they’re constellations, he imagines a future where he follows him to Maryland. He could take the first leg of the trip, tune the radio to throwbacks, belt Bon Jovi’s Livin’ on a Prayer in a Burger King drive-thru just to make Jeremiah laugh. They could rest at a motel similar to Greta—the same stuffy wallpaper, the same berber carpet. Surprise each other the next morning with bagels from the bakery a block away. Go crabbing at Point Lookout on their first weekend in the state. Pose next to each other with their catch for a photo snapped by a stranger. Jeremiah might even invite him to his grandmother’s birthday party, introduce him to an aunt as his boyfriend. They’d link arms the entire night, feed each other spoons of sherry trifle. Harrison could bond with a cousin over their shared interests in bushcraft forts and Neo-Dada art. Jeremiah’s mother would invite them berry picking the next weekend, serve blueberry buckle after Sunday mass, everyone still suited and skirted around the kitchen table. Harrison could cameo in their Christmas card photo. Spend Labour Day weekend at a lakeside cottage. Grill chicken thighs with Jeremiah’s father. Play Marco Polo with his younger brother. It’d all feel like an airy vacation.

And a tiny more romance lol:

Jeremiah leans into Harrison’s chest, brushes his mouth against his ear, down his neck. He touches the way pearls shine—with subtle panache. His lips are tangy with soy sauce, tart with cherry Chapstick, and he’s easy to move into like a current eclipsing itself.

Aaand the end of the chapter! THE DRAMA:

Jeremiah, he could say, the earth keeps turning without me. Jeremiah, which city do you think of as home? Jeremiah, I’m dying of a wound I can’t find. Jeremiah, I love you. Harrison’s head no longer hurts. He glances at the bed ahead of them, the duvet untainted, the throw pillows chopped, then back to Jeremiah. He grips his shoulder so tightly his hand aches. He’ll be needed right now—loved right now. He’ll touch because he needs to. He’ll pray for forgiveness someday. “Don’t let go,” he whispers.

And that's a wrap on No Christ! It was so fun to revisit this chapter now that I'm not... unwell, LOL. I hope you enjoyed this update and stay tuned for the FINAL one (which I meant to include here BUT THIS POST WAS SOOOO LONG)

ily if you made it this far okay bye!

Rachel

#writeblr #writing #amwriting #writerblr #writingupdates #OOOH BODY BACK is BACK lol #just for a little I want to get these up before I write the next one for hallowed bodies!!! #chapter 5 coming soon!!!! #also there's more of this chapter I didn't share floating around on the blog but this post was SOOO LONG LOL

[applesontheground]

holy grail 🍎

ta-da, here is the sequel to my doc halloran drabble from awhile back. i had meant to share it all as one big piece, but timing cut my inspiration short with the first installment. hope you guys enjoy, and let's hope this kickstarts a wave of new inspiration and more posting.

SFW | Word Count: 1,513 | Doc Halloran x GN Reader contains mentor/mentee relationship, weird tension at the stakeout, mild reader injury, leslie vernon guest star appearance 🎼: x ⬅ continued from white whale

“How did you find him?”

You were lost on how to answer because you didn’t even know how it had been managed. Still, you hummed, “I just went to the place where the story was. Again, I’m after the photos, not the guy. My information is all hearsay.”

He didn’t seem interested in that in the face of a stakeout; more so he just wanted to kill the silence, give himself a foot in the door to talk about why he found the guy. “He goes by many names. You know him as…” He trailed off, and before he could give you a cue with another look you finished, “Leslie Vernon.”

“Vernon, that’s right. That fits him perfectly.” He noted, giving another cautious glance out the windshield. Nothing needed to be added, so you merely followed his gaze. You didn’t necessarily feel unsafe being in a car with this man, but you wished there could be a few more open-air meetings before doing it. The square-shaped cabin was putting you practically right beside him, merely following where his eyes went with your own, trying to be unseen in a small space where there were only two people to be observed. At least, so far; he was anticipating this enigma you only knew as Vernon to practically jump out of nowhere, something out of a horror novel, and despite his fanfare you were waning in belief.

“What do you go to school for?” he then asked, pulling you from the window. You replied with the same short breath, “Media studies.” You pointed with a turn of your head to the tripod in the backseat, “Videography in specific, if you couldn’t tell.” He nodded briskly and commented, “You have an eye for good areas to get your footage, that much is true.”

After a halfhearted falter at the comment, you then scrambled for the camera sitting in the back seat. “Seriously, if you want the shots, I got some of him emptying some sort of trap…” He almost jumped as you lunged for the camera sitting with the rest of the equipment in the back seat, a luxury he had offered up when he invited you. You speculated aloud, powering on the device and flipping through the camera roll, ignoring the tense crick in his jaw, “I thought it was just for some animals, but it’s…that’s a human hand, isn’t it?”

He leaned over, coat brushing up against your shoulder and neck craned so you were nearly grazing a scratchy cheekbone as you pointed at the tiny LCD screen. He bit back a cringe, adjusting slightly in his seat to stare for a moment longer. Suddenly, he sat back again, and gave only a half impressed sigh.

“I’m not after footage, I need the man.”

You furrowed your brow, too confused by intention to reply. It made the box you were in stuffier, so you opted to stare out the window again and bar the collapsed tripod on your lap. This was dawning on you to be the opposite of what you were set out to find, and you didn’t care if you were technically being a help to him despite that.

You wouldn’t go near the guy if you saw him, apparition or flesh and bone person.

A speeding car down another street caught his attention, pulling his rigid eyes elsewhere, and you kept your own ahead. It wasn’t a night for people to be out, rather brisk in the air with your own breath fogging the windows as you turned to look out the side of the cabin. With your backs nearly touching, you then found yourself face to face with a figure in the tree line beside the road, hollow eyes of a blank face watching your movement all the same. Something straight out of the frames you had shot last night.

Choking, you jumped a bit on your haunches from where you had been sitting in the car, adjusting almost uncomfortably for the space that a car cabin allowed. You hissed the first word on your mind when your throat opened just enough, the last on your tongue that meant anything.

“Vernon-!”

Your partner turned just as there was commotion from where you had spotted the figure, a rush of tree limbs and he was gone again. You stared helplessly as you then grabbed tight to the door handle. “C-could’ve been…Could’ve been a weirdo, not our guy. I jumped the gun-“You quickly justified to both yourself and to him. His eyes snapped forward, and you merely followed in the short second of reprieve before seeing the man again.

“No.” He denied your peace of mind, making your stomach sink further, “That’s him, the dirty bastard.”

A rock descended from a sturdy tree branch that was hung slightly over the car, crushing the windshield in a flash of noise and light from a streetlamp now being able to make its way inside, touching your face along with a flurry of bright flashes. A scream in your throat rushed to your mouth, past your teeth in a rush of hot air. The rubber stops on the end of the tripods’ legs went smashing into the window on your other side, more a reflex than on purpose.

Flinging to the side, the car creaked open as you sputtered onto the pavement, looking at the figure still watching your movement. He tilted his head, a shudder of a heave all the warning you got before bolting towards you in an almost casual jog. You quickly reeled back, whooping out a warning that sounded close enough to “Hey, hey, man-“

His eyes, alive and utterly human even with the whirlwind of almost ghostly movement, boggled at you. His voice wasn’t any darker, almost gawking at you as he held his arms out, blocking any room around him to escape past him. Shuffling back and forth, you then heard the observation, also in a strange aura of casualty as his run had been.

“Look at this, the Doc got himself a gumshoe.”

Your eyes widened, somehow even bigger than before. No way, no fucking way. If there was more time, you’d be trying to explain yourself. Instead, the tripod went horizontal in your arms and pushed straight into his chest. Camera now slinging back and forth around your neck, you lost the bulky metal and started to run in the opposite direction instead.

No thought to it, no special attention towards whether he was following you or not. What would be special was an urban legend rushing after you. No one in class would believe you, a thought for a situation long down the road only faltered you for a split second before you hopped over a low fence, an awkward hurdle with one leg nearly getting caught on the way over and sending the entire getaway to the gravel you had stumbled out onto.

A gunshot finally made you flinch, your arm butting against your face and sending you off the road. You fell to the ground, the natural instinct to hide in the brush as you curled up tight into yourself.

Silence followed, and you felt the tender skin around your face where your arm had bumped into it, burning with heat from the fast moving alongside the red hot fear gripping your throat even now. Daring to lean back, you fell to your side, hissing a curse as you tried to inch back again. You only saw the older man, your cabin buddy staring down the road with a smoking gun in his hand and a glower on his face where Vernon had once stood.

“Where did he go?” Your jaw fell open in a dumb utterance of the question, a million thoughts trying to come through but only standing in the way as he locked eyes with you. He saw the mark on your face, and immediately answered you with another one.

“Did he hit you?”

“…No, no!” You gasped, “I-I hit myself, like-“ You quickly mimicked how you fell, knocking your jaw into your shoulder in a tender pantomime, and for some reason the look in his eye made you want to assure him. “He didn’t lay a hand on me, really.” He looked you over, almost regrettably as you achingly hinged your hip to stretch a forming knot, a festering bruise. Finally, he grit his teeth, staring down the desolate road that head back to rural area, the Vernon estate in specific.

“Come to see that, the footage will be something we can work with for now.” He declared, turning his heavy stare back to you as he kneeled down to pick up your tripod. “Let’s get ourselves away from here.”

You followed the direction of his lead, a hand under your shoulder as you walked out of the bushes and back towards the damaged car, his cellphone already buzzing with roadside assistance and him muttering about the cops next.

Still, you gave one more glance out into the side of the road, gripping the camera reunited with its mighty weapon.

#doc halloran x reader #final divorced man x reader #(still not sitting right to call this guy a final boy lol) #✏️ #🍎

[justgarb]

Multipart post: Upgrading my norse/viking tunic:

So less than a year ago I had to vend at a winter renaissance fair. I needed a period looking outer garment that was both warm and wet weather capable, so something made from wool. The cost of ordering wool to make my own custom over-tunic would have been more than purchasing one about the right measurements and altering it myself, thus I bought a quick solution off grimfrost and hemmed it to fit. It works great, is super warm, roomy enough to conceal additional layers, but it also looks super bland as a plain grey tunic. Because it's summer I think it's a perfect time to start some upgrades!

I found a pair of wool trousers at a charity resale shop and decided to make some accent panels. Of the two colors available, I like this one better with the tunic and the tablet woven trim I am going to use (you'll see it later). These trousers were made in south korea - I lived/worked there for a few years when I was younger and I dig the idea of carrying a bit of that with me on my mead soaked adventures. Good friends, good mead, and good memories go together.

The edges will be double folded/rolled to prevent fraying. I don't who it was that showed me to iron my seams, but take the time to do it. It really makes a difference. I'm doing each fold/roll on the ironing board, then pinning them before moving to the sewing machine.

I wrapped the left cuff (top) around the sleeve with the extra fabric rolled inwards, pinned the seam together, then pulled it off and flipped it inside out. I marked the line with tailors chalk, ran my stitch, ran a second stitch to prevent fraying, then cut off the excess. I used this measurement as the template for the right cuff (bottom) shown here. Note the bevel. The sleeves are not straight cut and narrow as they approach the hand.

Flipped the cuffs right side out, made some quick tacking stitches, and hand jammed a running stitch along the edges (top and the bottom rolled in). I plan to remove these panels for embroidery at a later date so I'm not going with a tighter stitch. Alibi: I did occasionally switch to two or three whip stitches to prevent movement while sewing. This particular picture sucks but it's 10pm and everyone is asleep.

I went ahead and cut/ironed the front and back bottom hem panels, minus side gores. I'll come back to this in the morning/next post.

#garb #costuming #how to guides #sewing #my garb #my crafts

[winterrose527]

22, 27, and 29 for the fic asks please!

You indulge me!

22. Do you know how your fic will end before you start writing?

For the most part, yes! Every so often I'll go in blind, but it is usually the pesky middle that I don't know.

27. Is there a fic you were nervous to post/share? Why?

I'm always nervous, but I would say any of my canon-era fics give me special pause, particularly when they're going to be anti any particular family/character because regardless of how well you tag, some people will still come there specifically to be mad.

29. Share a bit from a fic you’ll never post OR from a scene that was cut from an already posted fic. (If you don’t have either, just share a random fic idea you have that you don’t plan on getting to.)

Ahh oh my gosh I love this. Soooo I think the premise was that Myrcella was traveling by ship to Dorne for her wedding, but her ship was taken by slavers, and they were brought to the North? (I think they had bad info & thought the North wanted slaves idk). Anyway Robb meets with them and is getting ready to kill the slavers anyway but then he notices Myrcella and realizes she is his mate. (I think this is when I was going through a period of reading somewhat embarrassing supernatural smut romances LOL) but anyway, here it goes......

“W-what are you doing?” she asked, though the Northern king’s actions were almost entirely self-explanatory.

He had lifted her up into his arms. The long forearm of one was underneath her thighs, the other wrapped around her waist, pulling her back flush against his chest. Even as a child she had never been carried like this, as though she was seated in a chair.

“I’m carrying you,” he answered her simply. “The snow is up to your waist.” 

She glanced down as he started walking. It didn’t seem like it would be at her waist, but it was fairly high. The fur lined boots he had given her were doing far more to protect her from the cold than her silk slippers had, but they only went up to her mid-calf, leaving too much of her vulnerable to the heavy snow.

It seemed odd that a king would not have a horse, but from her vantage point she could see that he did. Some of her companions, the ones who had been more badly beaten were atop them. She looked to her other side and saw Gendry walking a few paces away and a couple behind, his eyes on her.

It was strange to see him with these people, he was one of the largest men she had ever met, but standing near to the king’s companion, the one who had sniffed her, he seemed average. Almost short.

The king’s companion caught her eye and winked and she turned quickly so that she was facing straight ahead.

She didn’t like that look. It was similar to the one the kingsguards, apart from Ser Arys, had gotten when Joffrey would talk about her upcoming wedding. Knowing and lude.

It was frightening enough, that look, when she knew they were picturing her with the man who would be her husband. The man holding her could ravage her at will and leave her to freeze in the snow.

Though he had made that slightly trickier by giving her warm boots and the cloak off his back.

He had done that though because he thought she was his mate. There was no saying how he would behave when he learned that he was mistaken.

“What did you mean?” she asked.

“Snow… high,” he responded, “You… small.”

She tilted her head back to glare up at him and found him smirking down at her.

“I meant when you called me your mate,” she told him.

And then lowered her gaze to look away from his laughing blue eyes.

He pulled her more firmly against him and her eyes closed at the first true feeling of warmth she’d had in days. An odd sensation, with the snow falling all around them.

“It means the gods made you for me,” he answered.

“Why would they do that?” she wondered.

If they were meant to be together, it seemed like an oversight to have her born in the South and him in the North. To her knowledge, the gods did not make those kinds of mistakes.

“They were rewarding me, I suppose,” he said.

Her head fell back against his chest so that she could look up and see his expression, searching for further signs of him teasing her. He seemed to be getting such pleasure out of it, when only an hour earlier his face had been entirely devoid of humor.

When he returned her look she saw no signs of mirth though, only an earnest satisfaction that sent a shiver down her spine.

#fanfiction #asks #robbcella

[thepinkwriterr]

Capricorn Season Chapter Nineteen

I am very sorry for the huge lapse in posting. I was going through a lot, but I am back now! Enjoy this update. 

Table of Contents 

My heels clicked against the laminate floor of Heathrow airport. It was packed. I didn't want to fly and I didn't want to be there, but I had to. I was nervous. Too many people. Too many voices.

My outfit was tight and uncomfortable but that was the price to pay for beauty. I wanted to look nice the first time Jimmy saw me after a few months. It wasn't like me to be so worried about what he thought but my anxious thoughts got the best of me. I worried he would be disappointed after not seeing me in so long. I wondered if it was even worth considering. I wore a pink dress I bought recently with some white pumps. My outfit matched my luggage.

Everything was fitting together, running flush as I started this new journey. It made me feel better about the uncertainty ahead. And there was lots of it. It wasn't like me to jump into things like this, not without knowing every little detail.

As I walked to my terminal I looked at the throngs of people. Whether they were waiting in line or sitting on the floor, they meandered. They wandered like clueless chickens with their heads cut off. They clucked and flapped their beaks as they tried to find their way to baggage claim, stomping around and fluttering their sickle feathers as they searched for their passports. I couldn't help but laugh at how ridiculous they all looked.

Not that I was much better. I was so nervous I couldn't see where I was going. I almost went to the wrong terminal! I checked three more times as I opened the door to the lounge marked with a big red 5, just to be sure. Thankfully I was in the right place.

"Here you are, miss, just take a seat and wait for the plane to board." The fair-skinned desk lady gave me a thin-lipped smile and handed me back my pink passport. Another piece of the ensemble. I followed her orders and went to find a chair, releasing a large breath as I finally sat. It had been almost a year since I had been on a plane. This would only be my second flight ever, which was the reason for all this anxiety.

I sucked in a breath and stepped into the hallway. It was time to board the plane. The worst part. I could feel anxiety bubbling in my chest. I found my seat in five short strides. My nails hit the rigid plastic armrest as I nervously tapped. I'm sure everyone was annoyed with me as my feet clomped against the carpeted floor, but I couldn't help it. I had to get my nervous energy out somehow.

I remembered being amazed when Dominic told me about his plane ride to and from Africa, and how wonderful the experience was. That was his first plane trip and he was delighted to be flown by David E. Harris, the first black pilot. Harris became the plane captain by 1967, a year and a half before I flew for the first time. I compared my experience on this Pan Am flight to Dominic's account.

Sometimes I let him creep in, allowing his judgment to run free in my mind. It was so long ago, I know, but I couldn't help it. It felt good to swim in that lake of nostalgia. I remembered his words from so long ago and the way he drew out his syllables, how his face contorted in total joy when he made himself laugh, and how gorgeous he looked with smoke coiling around his lips.

He's actually the one who told me about England. He spoke about Reading and told me all about how magical the culture was, about the history, food, and architecture. He told me about Reading festivale and how one of his friends saw The Rolling Stones. He said he wanted to take me there. His face was painted with total elation. He had a huge mouth, lips, and teeth cracking into a geode smile, glittering and beautiful. I always thought he was a very pretty man. I wondered how he looked now, if he was still gorgeous, if he was still an asshole.

That's why I think I still let him into my head the way I did. His effect couldn't be understated. He still presided over my life, affecting where I lived, even with just his words. I worried that he would always have some measure of control over my life. I still judged myself based on his rubric, still looked off his paper as I made moves across my life. I didn't know if that was because he was my first and last boyfriend, the only man who filled the role of my absent father, or if I hadn't gotten over him yet.

Love had always been hard for me. I always wanted love but I didn't know how to get it, or how to give it. Love was always a guessing game. But the gap was bridging, just as the space between Jimmy and I, as the plane came closer to New Haven. I was getting closer to love. I could feel the flame drawing ever closer, and I could feel the drip of molten wax down my shuttering frame. I wished not for a fall from grace.

But I did move to Winnersh, the place I still call my home. It was a nice little area. Although the people were pretty conservative, I enjoyed it. I wondered if Dominic would like it there. Probably not. He would think it too still and sterile. Too white.

The airplane seats were a lovely shade of green and had a white towel draped over the front. I wondered what they were for at first, but then I saw people patting their faces as the flight went on. I thought it was gross and abstained from joining in.

Three stewardesses accompanied us, surveying the aisles and providing everyone with drinks and meals. The food selection started with hors d'oeuvres, which Jimmy later told me was common on English flights. I declined the stewardess's offer because I saw the crackers had mushrooms on them. Yuck!

The next dish to be passed around was a salad. It didn't look like any salad I had ever seen.

"It's an English garden salad. There are potatoes, runner beans, spring onions, sundried tomatoes, Cheshire cheese, mint, mustard, and honey." This stewardess had red hair. It was lighter than mine but longer and curly. Her eyes were huge and blue. Her long eyelashes were coated in a thick layer of mascara and her cheeks were covered in blush. She was pretty but wore too much makeup. She put me off because runner beans, or lima beans, were not beans at all. They were legumes. So I told her so.

"They're actually not beans, they're legumes. Like peanuts."

"Oh. Would you like some salad?" She asked again, holding out the dish.

"Sure."

She put a large serving of salad onto my rounded plate and walked away with a smile. Her mouth was small. I was surprised she could put her lipstick on. I looked down at my plate and saw that it was not salad at all, but a pile of mashed ingredients. The English were terrible at food. No wonder so many of them were stick-thin.

Thankfully the salad never entered my mouth. The turbulence caused it to fly onto the floor, collecting at my feet. A stewardess, this one brunette and portly, scurried over and cleaned it up. She apologized profusely as she put the sticky food on a napkin and carried it off. She was gone before I got a chance to tell her it was okay.

I tried my best to squeeze my eyes shut and sleep. But I fought blindly in the dark behind my closed lids for the entirety of the flight. I was too nervous to eat or drink anything. And getting out of my seat before the plane was on solid ground was out of the question. The worst part was that my bladder was calling to me, pleading desperately to allow me to empty it. I patted my tummy and sighed, telling myself I would get to go when we were back on the ground. It wouldn't be too long, I kept repeating. Not too long.

In the black desert of space under my eyelids, my mind started to wander. I was bored. I had thumbed through the on-flight movie selection and came up empty-handed. I had either seen everything or wasn't interested. I laid my head back and let memory sweep me away, thinking of the last few days.

It was all so crazy. I let Jimmy find me a job, something I had never done before. I didn't want anyone's help, certainly not from the guy I was seeing. But he found me a good job, one with a good boss, one that allowed me to be excited about what I would be doing.

I was more grateful to him than I ever had been to anyone. No one had been as kind as he. Where I come from, kindness was something to be earned. It was hard-fought and scarcely rewarded. But he gave it to me endlessly. I didn't even have to ask. I was given kindness and respect without begging. Something I'd never had.

"Right, love, I've made some calls. I know you wanted to go as freelance as possible, so I've found a manager for you. His name is William Wells. You'll be able to join us and take photos and send them to William, then he'll send them out to other companies." Jimmy's voice was broken and patchy on the phone. We were miles away, countries apart, and the reception was an annoying reminder.

"Are you serious? Oh my god, that's like the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. I can't thank you enough for this." I was embarrassed, having needed his help, but was grateful in spite of that fact.

"Well, you don't have to. I just want you with me as soon as possible. And I know you'll take some great photos of the band."

"I'll give him a call right away. Thank you so much! Really, thank you. I will see you soon!"

"That sounds great, love. I'll see you soon."

There was a slight silence as we lingered on the line, just for a moment or two. I could hear him breathing and a pain hit me in the chest. I missed him. Of course, I was happy he was having fun with his band, but I was selfish. I wanted him here with me, in Pangbourne once more.

"I'll see you soon, bye," I said.

After I hung up the phone I paced around anxiously. I was really going to join them on tour! And soon. Oh my god... oh my god. I'm fucking going on tour with a band. I didn't know what to expect. I didn't know what to pack or what to think. What do you wear on tour? Was it going to be hot? Of course, it's going to be, it's America in the summer. I've lived in America longer than anywhere else. I was going crazy with excitement.

First, I had to call William Wells and arrange a time to meet. Then, I had to go and sign stuff, then I had to worry about packing. I was getting so ahead of myself. I couldn't help it. I was going to see Jimmy, we could spend every day together for the next few months.

The dessert was good, at least. It was a "Victoria sandwich", which was just a sponge cake with whipped cream and raspberry jam. What the hell was with the British and cream? They were obsessed with dairy. They served it after another nasty bout of turbulence. I thought my head was going to fly off my neck!

It wasn't long after a glass of champagne that the flight ended. I was shaky and needed to pee really badly. When people began to file out of their seats I bounced anxiously. I didn't know if I could make it, honestly. I had to go so badly. Annoyance started to build in me as people shuffled down the aisle. My carry-on had started to get heavy as well. I wanted off the floating tin can from hell.

The cab's window rattled as we drove over bricked streets and busy intersections. Heavy rain pummeled the car. It was peaceful to see the raindrops racing on the window, crashing into one another as the downpour continued.

I was growing tired as the day dragged on. But I knew salvation would be coming soon. I could lay down in a bed with Jimmy and sleep. Nothing sounded better.

I was once again entwined with recollection as I dissipated from the smelly cab. I was walking my steps from yesterday, my hands shaking in the confines of the metal car just as they had as I walked down the office hallway.

The office was hot and I wondered when I'd get home. If we hurry this along, maybe I could make a late lunch and still be home in time to beat the rain. I hated driving in the rain.

William came in shortly after. He was tall and pleasant, like a scarecrow. He shook my hand gently, the sign of a good man. "Hello, I'm William," His face was clear and bright, with a thin structure and hollow cheeks. His eyes were warm and friendly. Dark blue. "I trust you found your way here alright."He sat back in his red oval chair with a smile. He was all too warm and friendly. I wondered if it was a facade. He speaks like an American, like me. I felt at home in his dip-thong and drawn-out syllables. He's a Yankee.

"Yes," I nodded, "just fine."

"How are you doing today?"

I was taken aback by his small talk. I knitted my brows together and tried to make a daisy chain of an answer, "I'm fine, I guess," I stumbled through an appropriate response and searched for anything to add onto. I had to turn on my corporate brain, "hoping it doesn't rain. I'm sick of the rain".

He laughed. "Yeah, me too. Ever since I got here it seems like it hasn't stopped raining."

"Where are you from?" I asked.

"Indiana. Yeah, I know, big guy from the big city!" Oh, so he's a Hoosier.

Now I laughed. Short, small bursts of air puffed from my nose. "Where in Indiana? I've never been but I'm familiar with most of the state capitals. Have to keep in touch with the American roots," I joked.

"Muncie. It's a little college town. Blue collar. I don't expect you to know it."

I shrugged, "no, I don't. Is it close to Indianapolis? When I moved to Winnersh, I had a layover at the airport there."

"No, not really. It's about an hour and a half away. Where are you from?" He turned the question on me awfully fast.

"California."

"Wow, so that must've been an interesting experience."

"Oh, yes, it certainly was," I tried my best to laugh.

Now it was time to get to business. I could see the corporate mask slip on. His expression changed from friendly to serious. His lips pulled together and his brows lowered. "When Mr. Page showed me your work I found it incredibly interesting. You capture action very well," he opened the leather-bound portfolio and rifled through the thick pages of black paper. White tabs held the photos at each corner, allowing for an unobstructed view and the ability to remove the picture at will. "That will be a valuable skill when taking shots of the band. You also have an excellent eye for detail and great depth of field. I'm very impressed." He closed the portfolio.

I was quiet. I nodded. What was I to say?

"We should move onto business, shouldn't we?" He asked. His nose was narrow and pointed at the end, almost in the shape of an arrow.

"I suppose."

"Well, if you were to join our team you would be shooting the band and sending the film via mail. I would have them developed and get them to publications that were looking for photos. Mainly magazines that are running articles. And, of course, we would publish them in our magazine at the start of every month, given what article is being run. You could also be sent out for shoots when you're not working with the band. It's just that Zeppelin is very in demand right now, so we would want that to be your main focus."

I was so nervous I didn't really know what to say. It sounded great but I wasn't sure if the money would be great.

"If you're worried about your photos in other hands, don't worry, our team of developers is excellent. They are highly trained and-" he spoke with stressed features.

"No, that's not it. I actually used to work as a developer. I spent most of last year in a dark room," I interrupted. he laughed, his brows coming back up, "I just don't know how great of a fit I would be. I mean, I haven't really done something like this. I've only shot three or four bands."

"You have a personal connection with the band, as Mr. Page made it sound, and I see here that you are very adept. I think you would do wonderfully."

I sighed. This was new territory. I don't know what Jimmy told him, but it seemed like he was desperate for my employment. "I-I just don't know. How good is the money?"

"Well, we can't guarantee, of course, but most buyers pay per photo. For in-demand bands, you could get anywhere from 15 to 20 dollars. For an entire roll, which publications such as Rolling Stone or Circus will pay for, usually go for 30 or 35 dollars. We take a certain percentage, which can be negotiated if you agree to our terms."

Thirty dollars for a roll? Wow! My rolls would go for five or ten if I was lucky. Jimmy got me in good. There must be a catch. Surely. "What percentage do you usually take?"

"Five."

I clicked my tongue. "That's a bit steep."

Now my corporate mask was thinly strung across my face.

He jumped in his seat, lurching forward, "I can assure you that it averages out for our services."

"Four percent."

He sighed and placed his palms on the table. "Okay, four percent."

I smiled. I was content with my quibbling. Sudden confidence had come from his apparent interest in my work. This was the first time someone was willingly offering me a good position.

"Now is the matter of your stay on tour, which is the major concern of our contract. The tour is finished on September 20th, as Mr. Page told me in our lengthy phone conversation. You will be staying through the entirety, correct?"

"Yes."

"Alright, that is sound. Now," he put his fists on the table with a smile, "I don't expect that you'll be filling a roll each night, but I do expect one roll every week. On the weeks they have minimal shows, you could do one for every two weeks."

I sat back in my chair and the tension in my body diffused. I was more relaxed than when I first entered. The sweat on my underarms had dried and I was able to take in my surroundings better.

His office was large and neat with modern furniture. A large brown desk sat between us, riddled with stacks of papers and a lamp on the corner. A picture window lined the back wall, blinds occluded any view into the street below.

We were on the third floor of the tall building. His office was one of three on the level. Four rows of cubicles occupied the majority of the space left on the floor. I had passed people writing copy and reviewing shots on the way in.

"Right."

His secretary sat outside his office at a small desk. I could hear her humming while reading a magazine as I waited for William to see me in.

"Now, let's just sign the papers and we can get it finalized." He said. The brash overhead lights shined off his slicked-back brown hair.

We ended the meeting with the signing of papers. My hand shook as I held the stout pen. I scratched my signature on the allotted lines, looking down at the dark ink. It's set in stone now. I've got my first real job, where I'm taking the photos I want. People were going to see my work!

The cabbie helped me retrieve my luggage from the trunk. I slapped a 20 in his hand and was on my way. I ran through ran into the hotel lobby, seeking refuge in the heat of the bright room. It was pretty nice. White sitting chairs surrounded oaken coffee tables. Gold chandeliers hung over the red runner that started at the entrance. My heels squeaked with each step as I trudged up to the front desk.

"I'm here as a guest under Grant." The dark-skinned woman worked on checking me in. I took notice of her big, blue eyes and red nails. Her hair was long and sleek. "I love your nails. I can never go for a color that bold. Wouldn't look good on me." I was soaked from the rain and felt out of place in the lovely interior design but tried to appeal through flattery.

She gave a short laugh. "Thank you. I think it contrasts with my eyes and skin quite well." She held a boney hand up to her cheek, posing with a smile.

"Yes, you look absolutely ravishing!" I mocked Jimmy's grandiose accent.

She waved me off with a smile, telling me the room was ready. I didn't get a key.

"One last thing, if you don't mind me asking," she caught me before I turned away from the counter, "but you are here for the band, right?"

"Yes, I'm the photographer." I stood curiously at the counter. There was a puddle at my feet.

"Oh, well, I was going to ask if the rumors about them are true. About the lead singer, y'know?"

I pulled my brows together. "What about him?" I leaned in close as her voice lowered to a whisper.

"That he has a big... Y'know."

I hollowed in laughter, slamming my hand on the counter. I was tickled by her assumption. I wish I knew.

After my fit died down, I could see that she was uncomfortable. "Oh, well, I don't know about that. I'll have to find out about that. I'll report back to you if I get that information."

And I was on my way down the hall to the elevator.

Taglist:

@anothercanyonlady​ , @jonesyjonesyjonesy​  @paginate54 , @seventieswhore , @jimmypages , @jimmys-zeppelin​ , @jimmysdragonsuit13 

#jimmy page #capricorn season #led zeppelin

[typingdyslexiaisathing]

The Mad Dash (Trigun fanfic) part 2

summary: A new challenger enters the ring to save Vash and Wolfwood from a dire situation. Someone that proves to be a formidable and capable fighter.

characters: Vash the Stampede, Nicholas D. Wolfwood, OC

content: blood, violence, injury, medical treatments, broken bones, serious injury, mention of death, serious fighting, explosions, tending wounds, tending broken bones, established relationship

// apparently this fic is too long to post it in the sections I wanted but oh well will try to manage the posts the way Tumblr demands of me what yah gonna do? :) //

Wolfwood found the bottle as Vash brought a hand to her neck. His fingers pressed into her pulse as she gave a hard growl of a noise. Vash frowned as she snarled out, "So much for first impressions after getting my ass handed to me." Vash gave her a sad smile to state, "We made it out alive because of you stepping in. Thank you for that. But we have yet to get your name." She looked at him with those blue eyes. And she took a moment to get a good drag of air before she spoke. "Call me Naomi. And you're welcome." But then she gave a hard cough to then shudder as Wolfwood popped the cork on the bottle. His words to the point. "Get her over to the table Vash. Or she'll keep leaking." Vash did his best to move her without hurting her. But she gave a strangled shout none the less. Vash had the chest armor that she had been wearing off in seconds. But had to rip the tunic off her since moving her arm was out of the question. While Wolfwood started scrubbing at the dirt and blood on her good arm. And they both went wide eyed when they actually got a good look at her skin. She looked like she'd been tossed into a blender. Scars all over her arm and her chest along with bullet wounds and several deep burns. Removing her pants revealed even more. Her entire left leg covered in what looked like an acid burn that never really healed right. Vash gave a hard gulp at all the damage. While Wolfwood focused on getting the cuts cleaned. Naomi didn't seem very self conscious about them looking at her. Even though she was only in jogging short type underwear and a sports bra. But then she looked to be more concerned about breathing. Wolfwood started using the medical glue as Vash worked on cleaning her other side. And she gave a hard shout as the glue sealed the cut on her arm right away. But they both could tell it hurt. Her eyes watering as she huffed for air. Vash told her, "Sorry. We don't want to-" But she cut him off. "Not your fault. Just get it over with as fast as you can." Vash and Wolfwood nodded to keep working at getting her tended to. Vash cleaning her now bruising side with care. Which was blue from her armpit all the way down to her hip. He winced to note, "You are gonna hate breathing for a while." She gave a chuckle to note, "I already do." Wolfwood gave a snort to then seal her leaking leg. Which had her take a hard gasp to growl like an animal. He told her, "Yeah. Go ahead and yell." But she grit her teeth to grip tight to the table instead. Vash finished with the cleaning to then start sealing the cuts with the glue on her left side. The gash on her back looking more like an old wound had split open. It ran from the tip of her shoulder blade all the way down her back. Just ending at the waist line of her shorts. And he wasn't surprised when she gave the most gut wrenching howl when he did.

By the time they had finished with all the cuts, Naomi looked about ready to pass out. Her body trembling non stop as they bandaged the last of the cuts. Wolfwood looked to her still busted arm to grit his teeth. Vash also looking pained as they watched her heave in air. But then Naomi took charge to grab the end of her bag. Bringing out several sturdy rods just long enough to make a satisfactory splint. The two men went wide eyed as she set them on the table. Her hand shaking as she said, "Either you straighten this arm now or it gets chopped off later. So get to it." Vash jerked as if she'd punched him. Wolfwood nodding to then kneel in front of her. "Right. Vash. Keep her still." Naomi grabbed one of the red stained rags to stick it in her mouth. So Vash put his hands on her shoulders from behind. Bracing her down into the chair to say, "Do it." Wolfwood moved for a gut wrenching snap to sound out. Her eyes going as wide as allowed to practically shriek into the rag. Then Wolfwood moved again for yet another sound of bones aligning to rip through the air. And Naomi gave a hard lurch to then whimper. Her eyes streaming as Vash watched. He told Wolfwood, "Wait. Give her a minute." But Naomi shook her head to give Wolfwood a look that spoke volumes. Wolfwood gazed back with understanding. Even as he told her, "You get points for being so tough. Three more and it's done." She nodded to take a breath. And Wolfwood set her elbow back into place for her to scream hard into the rag. By the fourth setting she finally passed out. Her eyes rolling back to go completely limp in the chair. Vash took the rag out right away for her to breathe. And he looked about ready to lose it as he put a hand to her face. Wolfwood took a second to make sure she was out. Then he set the last bone to start setting up the splint. He looked like a mix of angry and sick as he told Vash, "We are getting her to a real doctor after we get ourselves cleaned up." Vash nodded to tilt her face to him. And he was already crying. Hot tears falling as she gave soft breaths of air. "Agreed, Nick. But let's not risk us moving out in the open. Those bounty hunters won't be giving up the chase." Wolfwood nodded to then finish with the splint. Tying the last knot to huff out, "Remind me to pay them back for this." For once Vash didn't protest. He just lifted Naomi up out of the chair and moved her to the bed. Laying her with care so her head rested on the pillows. Wolfwood got the bowl into the sink to then say, "You want first dibs on the shower?" Vash took a second to then answer. "Just be sure she-" Wolfwood smirked to then make a shooing motion with his hand. "Just go before I change my mind." Vash nodded to then head for the bathroom. With Wolfwood dragging a chair over to sit himself next to the bed.

Vash didn't take long in the shower before he was free of the dirt and the blood. His mind dwelling on their new partner in crime more than the fact that he was being chased yet again. She had come out of nowhere in the middle of that mad dash to cut down the two cyborgs that were about to rip Vash and Wolfwood to shreds. No forewarning. No reason. And no regard for her own safety as she had literally put herself as their shield in order for them to escape. A woman that looked to be no older than twenty years of age. Vash closed his eyes as her image came to his head. Long white hair that curled in fierce waves once it reached past her chin. The curls brushing over her shoulders to flow down to her waist. It was clear to him that her hair was not naturally white. Since her eyebrows were of a redwood brown hue. So it had to mean it had been from some kind of shock or trauma. And from the marring all over her skin he'd guess the latter. But her eyes were what took up all of his attention. A striking ice blue that was flecked with a metalic silver. The look she had given him had been that of a fierce and strong woman. One that didn't back away from a fight or give in to a tough situation. But then her image shifted into that of a look of serenity and warmth. And Vash gave a full shudder as his blood went hot in his veins. His body shivering as he shook his head to clear it. He was both confused and suprised at such a reaction. He'd never had that happen before. But then he gave his head a few light whaps to clear it and finish in the shower. Not wanting to leave Wolfwood alone without getting cleaned up. Vash made sure to get good and dry before throwing on some of his clothes. Coming out of the bathroom in his sweat pants and a towel on his head. He told Wolfwood, "All done. Your turn." Then Vash got the towel out of his face to turn to his friend. Who was looking at him with a raised eyebrow and obviously wanting to ask a question. Which he did in the next second. "Spikey, did you boil yourself or are you blushing for a reason?" Vash blinked in confusion to ask his own question. "What? Blushing? What are you talking about?" Wolfwood then gave an evident smirk to laugh at bit as he got out of the chair. "I wouldn't believe it if I wasn't seeing it with my own two eyes! And the insurance girls call me a dog! Seriously! You really going to tell me you don't get my meaning?" Vash was now starting to feel his face flush even further. His mind piecing things together to squack at Wolfwood. "Nick! Don't say that! Just stop already!"

#The Mad Dash #Trigun fanfiction #Trigun fic

[xieyouji-xiegushi]

Just What I Needed (Chapter 1)

Cross-posting my fics while AO3 is down! This is a multi-chapter fic; please check out the contents page for additional tags, overall CWs and other chapters before reading!

Title: Just What I Needed (Chapter 1) Fandom: Supernatural Rating: E Ship: Destiel Chapter 1 CWs: none Summary: All Sam and Dean have to their names right now is $200, a '67 Chevy Impala, and a lead.

Dean walked into the restaurant, fiddling with his shirt, the top two buttons of which were undone, the collar sitting at a jaunty angle. He scanned the room, searching for a vaguely familiar face. His eyes settled on an older man, probably in his early 50s, sitting alone at a table for two. Dean took a deep breath and walked over to join him.

“Hi, are you Max?” Dean asked.

“I am! You must be Charlie.”

“That’s right. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Max looked him up and down, taking Dean’s appearance, his eyes resting for a moment on the patch of exposed collarbone.

“Charlie, I’m quite sure the pleasure is all mine.”

Dean smiled. A cheesy line, but nothing he hadn’t heard before. He sat down at the table opposite Max, who had already ordered them a glass of wine each.

“I have to say, Charlie, I’m thrilled that you agreed to come out with me this evening. A man of my age… you younger types don’t usually look twice.”

“Well, Max, I tend to find that men of your age, as you put it, appreciate the finer things in life. So much more than guys my age do, anyway.”

“Well, if you have the means, why not? That’s what I say. Now, if you don’t like the wine, we can try a different one. Please, order anything you want.”

Dean happily obliged. The restaurant was quite expensive, and fancy, which probably meant the portions would be small. Dean scoured the menu for the most promising option, eventually settling on two simple pasta dishes, ordering both under the guise of not being able to decide. Max didn’t mind – the wine he had ordered already cost more than the entire meal.

Dean picked at his food and nursed his wine. He supposed he should make conversation, as an excuse for his slow eating.

“So, tell me about yourself. Who is Max? What brings a man of taste such as yourself to Nowheresville, USA?”

“Well, you see, my father wanted me to become an accountant, like him. But it wasn’t the life for me. I went to school for it, but after completing my degree, I found my real passion. So, I became a financial manager. Take that, Dad!” Max laughed at his own joke. At least, Dean thought it was a supposed to be a joke.

“Sorry, um, I’m not sure I understand the difference.”

“Oh, there’s a huge difference! You see, an accountant manages people’s accounts, whereas a financial manager…”

Max continued to explain the differences in excruciating detail, and Dean drifted off. He ate and drank just enough to be polite, but still leave leftovers. He made filler noises and asked simple questions to feign interest, whilst keeping half an eye on his watch. As the time ticked on, he began to grow restless. At precisely 8.30, his phone rang.

“Hey, sorry, do you mind if I take this?”

“No, go ahead.” Max smiled at him.

Dean nodded his head, before standing up and walking a few feet away from the table.

“Hey, Sammy.”

“Hi Dean. This is your get out of jail free call. Ready to wrap up?”

“Sure, I’ll come pick you up. Be there in 20 minutes.”

“See you soon.”

Dean hung up, and paced for a few seconds, for effect. He marched back to the table with a frown.

“Max, I’m so sorry, it looks like I have to cut this short.” As he was talking, he waved over a waiter. “I’ve got a small emergency I need to go and take care of. Yeah, can I get these to go please?” he asked the waiter, gesturing at his two plates of pasta.

Max looked slightly taken aback, but quickly recovered. “I’m sorry to hear that, Charlie. Is there anything I can help with?”

“No, thank you, it’s okay. I had a lovely time this evening. Thank you so much for dinner. Take care, Max.” The waiter returned with his food, and he grabbed the bag and left before Max had much of a chance to answer.

Dean jumped in the Impala, which he’d left parked about a block away from the restaurant. He fired up the engine and headed over to the local library. He arrived at exactly 8.50, and Sam was waiting on the steps outside. Dean honked the horn, and Sam jumped up and ran over, clambering into the car. They pulled off, and Dean drove them to the nearest free car park, pulling into the first free space he saw.

“What did we get?”

“I don’t know, pasta something. Truffle maybe.”

“Truffle? Fancy restaurant?”

“Yeah, real expensive. Tiny portions, so I got two.”

“How was it?”

“What? The pasta?”

“Your date.”

“It was fine. He was nice enough. An accountant or something. You know, boring, but harmless.”

Sam nodded. “Don’t you feel bad? You basically scammed some lonely old man.”

“Yeah, not for the first time, and it won’t be the last. As for what I feel, what I feel is hungry. Come on, dig in. This stuff won’t be good cold.”

Sam grabbed some camping forks from the glove compartment, and they ate their lukewarm pasta in silence. After finishing his food, Dean reached over Sam and pulled out an envelope. He rifled through it.

“How much is left?” Sam asked.

“About $200.”

“So, can we get a motel tonight? I don’t want to sleep in the car again.”

“Afraid not. We need gas, and new brake pads. These ones are down to their last scrap.”

“You know, if we’re gonna be in this town for a while, I could get a job. You know, a regular job.”

Dean looked at his brother. Sam was serious. And worried.

“No way. You’re in school – focus on that. Who the hell is gonna hire some 15-year-old anyway?”

“I can lie. Dean, we’re broke. Dad’s cash is literally about to run out. And the only other thing he left us was this money pit of a car.”

“Hey, don’t talk about the Chevy that way. Sammy, I know you’re stressed, but don’t be. I’ll figure something out.”

“What, are you gonna start scamming for McDonald’s coupons?”

“I said I’d figure it out. Now shut up and get to sleep, you’ve got school tomorrow.”

Grumbling, Sam crawled into the back of the car. The backseats were down, creating something approaching a bed. Dean watched his brother awkwardly fold himself up and cover himself with the thin blanket, before turning around and trying to get comfy in the driver’s seat. He drifted off, sleeping lightly enough that he would wake if there was trouble.

The alley is dark; only its mouth is lit by the faint orange glow of a nearby streetlight. Dean limps into the black, glancing furtively at his surroundings, trying to make out whatever shapes he can. His right hand is glued to the gun at his hip.

He hears a snarl behind him, before an ungodly force knocks him to the ground. Claws tear at his back and sharp, white teeth dig into his neck. He hears a crack. A gunshot. The creature – a vampire – springs away from him, towards the source of the bullet, screeching at the sky.

“Dean, run!” calls his father. John is standing 20 feet ahead of him in the alleyway, his shotgun locked and loaded. The vamp bounds towards him.

“Get up, Dean!” But Dean is fixed to the floor. He can’t run. He can’t look away. The vamp reaches its target. It tears into John Winchester, rips him limb from limb. He screams.

“Dean! DEAN-“

“- Dean! Dean! Come on, I’m gonna be late for school!”

Dean was abruptly pulled from his dream, shaken awake by his brother. He blinked a few times to clear the images from his vision, before putting the car in gear and racing over to Sam’s school. After dropping him off, Dean swung around and headed back to the library. He was here for a job, after all, and he had work to do.

#fandom #fanfiction #ao3 #fanfic #deancas #supernatural #castiel supernatural #destiel #supernatural fic #ao3 down

[oopsybangsy]

TO THIS BOY THAT I HAVE LOVED BEFORE.

I can’t believe I am writing this but here I am.

Today is December 26, 2022, 10:39 pm. I just got my late dinner because I was hungry. I cooked eggs and instant noodles since it’s the only meal that I can cook for now. Anyways, it’s been 2 days since I last talked to him. He told me to call me when I woke up the next day but there was a power interruption here at home due to heavy rains and flood. Our house wasn’t flooded though, fortunately. And during these late nights, I kept wondering if in those 2 days that I was off the grid, did he even bothered messaging me on Instagram? There’s this 3 day rule that I have read about. Its when you talk to someone consistently and see if that person asks about you when you went missing for 3 days- or something like that. IDK WHY DO I KEEP THINKING ABOUT HIM. I am just writing this entry because I am such a hopeless romantic or am I just hanging on the fact that he talked to me again after many years because recently he broke up with his girlfriend- a news in which I am most delighted to hear, lmao. And I am also writing this to document the signs that he is not into me.

We started talking late 2018 when he messaged me on facebook about a mutual friend who is also in NYC. I was shocked to see him messaging me first because he was already an apple of my eye before we were even talking on facebook. He used to video call me a lot during his free time at work. It was a 13-hour time difference from here to there but we made time to talk- we really did. I talk to a lot of boys on my messenger that time since facebook was most popular among teenagers, as a matter of fact, Filipinos are the most active users in facebook according to an article I have read somewhere. To cut the story short, we talked consistently and eventually I became attached to him. The notifications on my phone were all about his messages, snaps, facebook posts etc. I gotta admit I was infatuated with him because I am stupid. Stupid enough to crush on someone just because he talks to me online consistently. I get so annoyed and embarrassed on how I jokingly confessed my feelings to him on facebook but now that I reminisced at that memory, it was funny and it was also a great lesson to me, waking me up to reality.

Character development

That incident was essential for me to learn from my mistake. I know that he was just talking to me because he misses home and our friends here and I happened to be available always at his beck and call. I was just assuming things, over thinking and expecting things that I should have never done. The bottom line is it was not his fault entirely because I understand now how much he needed a friend at that time when he was in a foreign country with no close friends to talk to yet. And then he found a girl friend there, posting all their pics all over his Instagram. What an eye sore right? Lol, I was just being jealous hahaha but I am no match for her since she was the one who is literally there hugging him, spending time with him and they are both in the same time zone. Ever since then, we never really talked anywhere on social media. Last 2019 he greeted me on my birthday and that was just it.

NOW just last November 2022 I have heard he was single again and according to him it was just last october when he decided to break up with her. And yes, we video called again last dec 24. We were already talking last dec in which he replied to my story in IG and I know he was flirting with me or idk but whatever he really did. It was just a harmless chat but all my assumptions are haunting me again but I think I am already seeing the signs that he is not into me really. He wants us to hang out when he goes home this April,yes he is finally going home from America. At first, yes I was excited to see him in person but as the days go by I don’t know. I hate myself for thinking ahead of thing when he just recently decided to talk to me because after he replied to my story and I replied back, he never messaged me again. Hahahaha god, what a dumbass. I am also a dumbass for messaging him first after a few days just because I had the courage thanks to that shot of tequila. I never regretted that decision because we decided to talked again in social media. I really need to get a grip of reality because I keep getting worried when he doesn’t answer his phone immediately which is annoying because I kept wondering what is he up to at work or school. I hate myself for expecting an update from him when he is literally not obliged to do so. First of all, I am not his girlfriend. He told me once that he got sick of his gf since they do not have the same level of maturity, ignored her texts and broke up with her. Toxic right? But who am I to judge, whatever it was that happened during that relationship on why it did not work out is not my business. But he is kind of a red flag to me but you know, I chose to be a color blind lmao. What assurance do I have that he would treat me way better than his ex when I am miles away, and he hasn’t really told me if he likes me and I am not really sure if really do like him sincerely or I just like him because he has an American passport? What assurance do I have that he would make a long-distance relationship work when he fucked up his relationship with his ex whose literally an arms-reach to him?

I should just go with the flow and stop assuming things or expecting literally anything to him to avoid frustrations and emotional damage because it’s a waste of time to gamble myself anymore. I am so tired of letting guys treat me like an idiot. But I can be if a guy is cute enough. Ahhaha kidding! Whatever it is that will happen, I am really seeing signs that he deserves to be a tropa rather than a jowa. Nakaya gani nako na wala siya, I don’t need him nor rely my entertainment on that dumbass. Whatever it is that happened all of that will pass and this will be a memory and a lesson learned. Take a chill pill and there’s no way akoy maghilak aning kahimtanga hahahahha bye!!!!!!!!!!!

#unsaid thoughts #letters #one sided feelings

[idiots-assembled]

What was the man doing up there on the moon? They went to explore.

#bbc ghosts #mat baynton #simon farnaby #larry rickard #charlotte ritchie #g: mat #g: simon #g: larry #idiotedit #bbc ghosts spoilers #this-user-loves-thomas-thorne #i found a post that cut off before that line so went ahead and made it

[comfortbucky]

Hey! If requests are still open I was wondering if I could request a fluffy fic where reader is having a bad day and Bucky notices and cheers them up? 💗💗

HELL YEAH!!!

REQUESTS!!! ARE!!! OPEN!!!

𝘀𝗲𝗰𝘂𝗿𝗶𝘁𝘆 𝗯𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗸𝗲𝘁 ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ ｡˚ ☁︎ ˚

pairing: bodyguard!bucky x fem!reader

warnings: anxiety, anxiety attack

tags: grumpy!bucky, bodyguard!bucky, fluffy bucky!!!

A/N: okay i have never written bodyguard!bucky before but i just thought it would be such a sweet concept to see him being soft🥺

sorry if the ending is kind of bad😭 i didn’t know how to quite wrap it all up, but i hope u enjoy!!!!!!!! <3 i had so much fun writing about bodyguard!bucky!!!!!

word count: 2.9k

my masterlist!

completed requests!

Y/N groaned as her phone alarm went off and hit snooze for the fifth time. She reached her hand out, head facing away and resting on her pillow, fumbling for her phone to turn off the incessant sound. Before she could shut it off, the noise stopped. Y/N turned her head slightly to see a large, dark figure in the corner of her eye. She turned her head fully to see her bodyguard with a frown on his face as he shut her alarm off.

“Your alarm, it’s annoying,” Bucky grumbled. “You should get up anyways, busy schedule today.” He walked out of the room before she could respond. Super soldier hearing was no joke if he was able to hear her alarm from his bedroom down the hall. Y/N sighed as her face planted into the pillow.

She was not looking forward to the events planned out for the day. During the day, there was a slew of interviews she had, back to back, and at night, a gala she was being forced to attend by her father.

Being the daughter of a wealthy tech tycoon had its perks for sure, but Y/N did not consider all of the press she did as a part of them. She never liked being in the spotlight but was forced to be, a birthright she had. Growing up with her dad, she’d developed a fascination for tinkering with computers, game consoles, and everything in-between. She spent a lot, practically all of her free time, with her dad when her mom had passed away. Her dad ended up throwing himself into his life’s work and she worked with him closely in the beginning, but slowly started to drift apart from him as she started to make a name for herself.

Earlier that week, her dad had sent her a text, informing her that a big announcement would be made at the gala. Big parties and large crowds weren’t really her thing, but it seemed like she didn’t have the option to avoid this one.

She got ready for the day, walking down to her kitchen to see her bodyguard, Bucky, sitting at the table, reading a book. As soon as he heard her come down the steps, he stood up and put his book away.

“C’mon, we’re already running late,” he mumbled, making his way to the door. Y/N rolled her eyes in response, grabbing a granola bar as she briskly followed behind him.

When her dad became a big name in the world of tech, the last thing Y/N thought she needed was a bodyguard, but her dad felt otherwise. It took one, very close call, of her almost getting mugged for her dad to immediately assign a personal bodyguard for her. She insisted that it was unnecessary, seeing that she was a fully grown adult, but her dad refused, as he was the one paying for Bucky’s salary.

Bucky had always been rather closed off since the beginning, and not much had changed since he was first assigned to her a little over a year ago. He kept their relationship very professional, only speaking when necessary and leaving the room whenever he wasn’t needed. She had tried to get him to open up more, learn about his past, but he always shut her questions down by either ignoring her or changing the topic to discussing something work-related. He was an enigma to her, which only left her wanting to solve the mystery that was James Bucky Barnes but couldn’t seem to crack the code.

Her first two interviews went smoothly, exactly what she was used to. A couple of questions about her current projects at work, some about her dad sprinkled in, and what she had planned for the future. It was a format she was used to and had come to appreciate, not exactly enjoying being the center of attention. During her last interview, however, she was caught off guard by one of the last questions she was asked.

“I know this might be an awkward question to ask, but I just have to! The people want to know: do you think your dad’s ever going to return to the dating pool?”

Y/N choked on her saliva. She knew her dad was an attractive man, seeing posts on social media of people fawning over him. Although she found it to be very weird and uncomfortable, she just brushed it all aside, not wanting to think about it as it only led to her thinking about the loss of her mom, a sore spot for her.

Y/N cleared her throat and forced out a chuckle. “I think that’s a question only he can answer, I don’t always know what’s going on in that crazy head of his.”

The interviewer laughed and proceeded to transition into the next segment. Y/N quickly thanked the interviewer and left, Bucky swiftly following behind. He had a feeling that something was off, as Y/N would typically stay behind to chat with the interviewer, crew members, even the service staff, whenever she finished an interview. It was always something he admired about her, how down to earth she remained, despite all of the privileges she had. She went out of her way to thank everyone on set, no matter how small their role might seem. He always told the drivers to pull the car up a little later than originally planned, just so she would have the extra time to talk.

Y/N pushed the doors open, only to find an empty street. She turned around and gave Bucky a curious look.

“Sorry, the driver just texted me,” he said, as he sent a text to the driver, telling him to come now. “He’s running late.”

Y/N nodded and leaned against the wall, looking down to fiddle with her hands. Bucky leaned against the opposite wall, facing her, his arms crossed over his chest.

“You okay?”

Y/N looked up at Bucky to find a gentle look in his eyes, slightly taken aback at the sight. She always found herself drawn to his piercing blue eyes, but they usually had a colder glint to them. This was a look she’d never seen before.

“Yeah, ‘m fine,” she replied, averting her gaze down as she felt her cheeks flush at the sight of Bucky’s soft gaze.

The car arrived, cutting off Bucky’s train of thought as he was thinking of what to say to her. For a moment he debated on continuing the conversation in the car but figured she already had a long night ahead of her and didn’t want to push any further.

After a quick pit stop back to Y/N’s place, allowing her to change into an evening gown, the car headed to the venue of the gala. Bucky got out of the car before her, walking around to the other side to open her door. Before she stepped out, Y/N took a deep breath in and exhaled, plastering a fake smile on her face as a surge of flashing lights from cameras greeted her. Bucky watched, seeing her seamlessly transform from Y/N, the girl who needed to set a million alarms before actually waking up, to Y/N, tech extraordinaire, one of the most powerful people in the tech world.

Once they were inside the venue, Bucky stuck to his usual routine. Scope out the exits, look for any potential threats, and make sure Y/N was in his eyesight. Bucky kept close by but also kept his distance. He wanted to make sure that he gave her enough space whenever they were out, knowing that having him around was her dad’s idea and that she wasn’t too fond of having security detail in the first place. So he did everything he could to make himself blend in with the crowd, allowing her to roam freely, only following her when she moved out of his line of vision.

Y/N walked around, not knowing a single soul but making polite small talk with the rest of the guests. She became accustomed to knowing how to act at these types of events over the span of her adult life. Food, drinks, more food, home. Crowds made her uneasy, but she always felt calmer when she saw Bucky in her peripheral vision. Y/N would never admit it out loud, but over the last year, he had become a constant source of relief at these public events. Just knowing that he was there if she felt uncomfortable, unsafe, or wanted to leave early made her public outings much more bearable.

“Hey, sweetie! I’m so glad you made it.” Y/N turned around at the sound of her dad’s voice and smiled, moving in to hug him.

“Yeah well, you said you had a big announcement, so I figured I’d stop by,” she joked, eliciting a chuckle from her dad as they pulled away from each other.

“I’m about to make it now,” he started, placing his hands on Y/N’s shoulders. “And I was wondering if you could join me on stage for it? I know that’s not your thing, but it would mean so much to me, Y/N.”

While she absolutely hated the idea of having to stand in front of thousands of people, she reluctantly nodded. Y/N and her dad had slowly grown apart the past several years, only talking a couple times a month to catch up. With both of their busy schedules, they always seemed to miss each other. Despite their growing apart, she would do anything for her dad, especially if it meant so much to him.

Bucky slowly followed behind, as Y/N and her dad walked up to the stage. Y/N glanced behind her to give a slight smile to Bucky, to which he nodded back. He stood backstage, watching them from behind the curtains.

“Hi everyone, thanks so much for coming out tonight,” Y/N’s dad spoke into the mic. She was standing beside him, hands clasped in front of her, trying to look calm and not totally anxious.

“Since the success of my brand, people have said that I am a man who has everything. And I definitely have a lot to be thankful for, my company, my friends, and most importantly, my daughter.” Her dad extended a hand out to point to Y/N and the crowd cheered. Bucky couldn’t help the smile that formed on his lips. Despite his brooding attitude, he had come to grow fond of Y/N, being able to see her for who she truly was. She was smart, witty, and had a heart of gold.

“The only thing I’ve been missing,” her dad looks down at the ground for a second, before looking back out at the crowd. “Is someone to share it all with.” Y/N’s smile faltered and felt her stomach drop. She couldn’t fully register the words coming out of her dad’s mouth.

“After Sarah, my wife had passed, I didn’t think I would be able to love again. Until I met Alyssa.” Y/N was frozen in place upon hearing her dad’s confession. She’d never heard of anyone named Alyssa during any of their catch-up calls and now he was saying he loved her? Y/N quickly turned as a woman walked out on stage. The woman walked over to her dad and he wrapped one of his arms around her waist before speaking.

“Now I feel complete, now I have everything.” He pulled Y/N to him and wrapped his other arm around her shoulders, smiling for the cameras ahead. There were a lot of strategies Y/N had devised over the years to deal with potential unexpected and uncomfortable situations in a composed manner to avoid having a PR nightmare.

She didn’t have one for this.

Tearing herself from her dad’s hold, she ran off stage, heading towards the exit that led to the outside. Y/N took in the fresh air, trying to stop her hyperventilating. It wasn’t working. Her chest felt tight as she began gasping for air, struggling to take in oxygen.

She was having a panic attack. It was nothing she hadn’t experienced before, but it had been so long since she’d had one. The last time she remembered, was at her mom’s funeral.

Her mom. Her dad. Alyssa.

Her thoughts were pushed aside as her vision blurred, her eyes swelling up with tears. Y/N felt like she had no control over her body and shut her eyes, allowing the panic to consume her.

Then, a firm, but gentle, warm feeling in her hands.

Y/N blinked her eyes open to reveal Bucky, standing in front of her. She looked down and saw that it was his hands in hers, holding them tight.

“Can you breathe for me, honey?”

His voice came out in a soft whisper, accompanied by the warmest and welcoming smile. She shook her head, unable to control her quick and rapid breaths. Bucky squeezed her hands a little tighter, rubbing his thumb in small circles on the back of her hand.

“Yes you can, just breathe with me, okay?”

He started to breathe in and out slowly and eventually, she was able to follow his lead, deciding to focus on his eyes. There was that look from before the ride to the gala, the gentle look in his eyes. She’d always felt that his blue eyes reminded her of stormy seas, but now, now they made her think of the calmness of the ocean in the early morning, waves crashing softly on the shores.

As she regained her composure, she realized she’d been staring into Bucky’s eyes for, probably, far too long. Bucky felt her tight grip on his hands loosen and reluctantly let go of her hands. He immediately missed the softness of her hands and how small they were in comparison to his much larger, calloused, hands.

“T- Thank you,” she stuttered out, her gaze locked on the ground, as she placed her hands to her sides.

“It’s no problem. I get them too,” he replied. She looked up at him as he clarified. “Panic attacks. PTSD from serving overseas.”

Y/N face drops, her stomach churning at the thought that Bucky had ever experienced panic like she had. She returned her gaze to the ground as a silence washed over them.

“He didn’t tell me about her,” she spoke in a quiet voice. “Never brought her up once. But I guess she must be pretty special for him to do all of this.”

Bucky stood a couple steps in front of her, seeing teardrops fall from her face. She lifted her head up to wipe away her tears, her hands shaking from anxiety. Y/N placed her hands on her face and started to sob.

She was slightly hurt by the idea of her dad loving any other woman than her mom but knew that he’d have to move on eventually. What hurt her the most was the fact that he didn’t tell her, not until they were on stage, standing before a crowd of people. It was too much for her to handle and she reached her breaking point.

Bucky’s heart dropped at the sight. He cautiously stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her tightly. Something his PTSD had taught him was how pressure from a hug could help relax the nervous system and calm him down. He held her firmly in his arms until he felt her breathing slow. She looked up at him, remaining in his embrace, her eyes glassy from crying, nose red and sniffly. Bucky felt his heart skip a beat and immediately pushed the thought away.

“You wanna leave, honey?”

She nodded in response, staying in his arms for just a second longer before pulling away. Y/N longed for his warm touch, feeling like a child who had their security blanket taken away. It didn’t help that it was also cold outside, sending a chill down her spine.

Bucky noticed and shrugged his suit jacket off to wrap around her shoulders. She beamed a smile at him and he smiled back.

The pair walked around the outside of the venue to find the car when they ran into a mob of paparazzi, shouting questions at Y/N about her sudden exit. Like a reflex, she grabbed hold of Bucky’s hand and he gave her a comforting squeeze as he cleared a path towards the car.

Bucky and Y/N were sat next to each other in the car, which was not the typical seating arrangement they usually had, usually sitting on opposite ends of the car. But Y/N hadn’t let go of his hand, not quite ready to separate herself from his warmth. Bucky had absolutely no problem with that, mindlessly rubbing his thumb against the back of her hand. She felt safe. She always felt safe with Bucky around.

Y/N felt her eyelids become heavy, struggling to keep them open. She was exhausted from her long day, and her panic attack had taken most of her energy away.

Bucky felt a weight on his shoulder and turned his head slightly to see Y/N’s head resting there. He felt a warmth rush to his cheeks and smiled, resting his head on top of hers.

“Thank you for tonight, Bucky,” she mumbled, keeping her eyes closed. “You always make me feel so safe.”

Bucky felt a surge of tenderness rush through him. That was all he ever wanted to do. He wanted to keep her safe. He kissed her forehead, causing her to snuggle closer to him.

“Of course, honey. I’m here, always.”

#bucky barnes #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky oneshot #bucky imagine #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes imagine #bucky x fem!reader #bucky barnes x fem!reader #fem!reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x y/n #bodyguard!bucky #bodyguard!bucky x reader #grumpy!bucky #bodyguard!bucky imagine #soft!bucky x reader #soft bucky #soft!bucky #bodyguard!bucky x you #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes x female!reader #bucky barnes x female reader

[scarlettriot]

Mina Ashido Headcanons!

@jewel116 requested some headcanons of our Alien Queen and I am here to deliver!

Some of these also could be considered BakuSquad HCs, hope that's alright.

I also went ahead and included some Adult Mina and 18+ Mina Headcanons too. Both are below the cut and clearly stated. Warnings are posted at each header mark.

If anyone has any other requests, lemme know!

Basic Mina Headcanons

Warnings: It's as fluffy as her dang hair! (Swearing)

. Most definitely has ADHD! In class, she is constantly tapping her foot on bouncing her leg as a means of trying her best to keep focused.

. Has a collection of shirts that she has designated for sleep and loungewear because she's burned acid holes in them by accident. Sometimes she'll wear them to concerts and shows if the design is cool enough.

. Loves piggyback rides! Frequently will run and jump on the backs of the guys in the BakuSquad. Even Katsuki himself puts up with it after a while.

. While Katsuki is the 'mom' of the squad, Mina is the one everyone goes to when they need comfort. Denki will curl up in her lap after a long day, Eijiro frequently goes to her when his insecurities creep back in, Hanta shows up late at night and they talk in her room about nothing just because he doesn't want to be alone, and Katsuki, well, he shows up to her room, slams the door and complains for a solid half-hour after reading a particularly heartbreaking scene in a manga while she listens to every word and validates his feelings.

. Mina worries far more than people believe she does. Her bubbly, loud, personality usually masks it but she knows when people are lying to her about what's going on in their heads.

. Sitting properly in a chair physically bothers her. She'd much rather be hanging upside down off it.

. She lowkey likes that the boys get protective over her.

. Mina is the type of person who gets A LOT of random thoughts that pop up in her head and one of the few people who actually will engage with the sheer randomness of the ideas is Shoto. Not only does he engage, he comes up with his own! The two can talk for hours.

. Loves hosting 'spa parties' in the common area of the dorms, everyone is welcome to join.

. When road trips happen, she's making the playlists (technically, she and Kyoka switch off).

. Tries teaching Tenya, Izuku, and Shoto how to flirt. After a very embarrassing first hour, Shoto didn't learn a single thing, Izuku was only good at it when paired with Shoto and Tenya... Tenya had her SHOOK! Man has game and she made sure everyone knew!

. Has weekly meetings with Yuga where they drink tea and spill the tea.

. She is so damn ticklish. Hanta was teasing her one day, she warned him to stop, he received an elbow to the face for not listening.

. Tried to grow her hair out once but it didn't grow down... it grew OUT. Mina thought she rocked it, and she totally did but ended up having it cut back down so poor Tsyu could see in class.

. Wakes up early three days a week to practice her hand-to-hand combat with Eijiro. Mina wants to improve her technique and Eijiro needed to work on his mobility, it benefits them both.

. Just Dance is her favorite game, she dominates.

. Easily forms new interests.

. Won't admit it but she gets jealous super easily.

. Will be the first to attempt to throw hands for a friend! I HC she was picked on as a child for looking so different but it never really phased her too badly, she likes looking different but understands that not everyone thinks like she does. So, if someone were to say something about Mezo's facemask, she's stepping in to defend the guy without hesitation.

. Knows every TikTok dance EVER. If a new one comes out, she's mastered it by end of the day and her account is always up to date.

. (Popular idea but important to reinforce) Mina and Eijiro co-founded a club, Horn Buddies, specifically to make Eri feel more welcome. They take her on trips and group outings. The only horned person who's not allowed to join is Pony because she was rude as heck to Mezo.

. Mina gets extra competitive over board games.

. She can ice skate and roller skate like a champ.

. Mina is resilient, dedicated, and passionate. She has goals and the girl will achieve them.

Pro Hero - Adult Mina Headcanons

Warnings - Mentions of alcohol use and swearing

. Gets several tattoos and piercings.

. Starts a roller derby club with most of the girls from 1A.

. Loves going out to the hottest dance clubs just as much as she enjoys staying in and munching on take-out food with friends.

. The Horn Buddies club she formed with Eijiro has now expanded into regular society and both young heroes couldn't be more proud. Together they've formed a foundation that strives to help those with non-flashy, unconventional, or misunderstood quirks feel welcomed and loved.

. Does her best to shop small whenever she can. Mina wants to help her community in as many different ways as possible.

. Becomes a fashion icon for many small, just starting out, alternative clothing lines. They love her look and the standard she sets.

. Goes to fashion and runway shows with Momo on the regular. While Momo prefers buying right off the rack, Mina goes to thrift stores and buys items that are coming back into style.

. Does her best to stay in touch with her classmates. She really cherished the friendships she made and goes the extra mile to make sure everyone stays connected.

. Has told off Shoto's father. Sent the man an anonymous bag of flaming dog shit as well for making his son so damn stressed. Sorry, not sorry.

. As long as she isn't in the middle of a fight, Mina will always stop to take a photo with a fan or sign an autograph. In or out of costume, she doesn't care.

. In high school, Mina's room was always decked out for the holidays. She goes decoration crazy and it is always done well. But, now that she's an adult with that pro hero money and her own place, she's the best house on the block decorated for each and every holiday! Inside and out! Also throws holiday-themed parties.

. Got absolutely trashed with the BakuSquad one night and taught them all how to twerk. By the end of the lesson, she deemed Katsuki was the best of her students.

. Loves to drink. Is a lightweight. Katsuki and Eijiro have carried her home more times than they can count.

NSFW 18+ Mina HC Below - Minors DNI

Warnings: Drinking, rough sex, mentions of orgies, handcuffs, impact play, and praise kinks. Subtle sexual relations with BakuSquad, Jiro, Todoroki, and Ochaco.

. The Queen of stripteases and lap dances.

. If any of her friends are at a party or some event and they need a fake date, Mina is their go-to person. She's handsy. She's flirty. And has no problem with platonic make-outs.

. Always encourages kissing-themed games at parties. Seven Minutes in Heaven, Spin the Bottle, those sorts of games. Mina also loves to play cupid and has rigged a game or two to get people together.

. Has made out with every member of the BakuSquad at least once as well as Kyoka, Shoto, and Ochaco simply because she was curious.

. Has attempted to start an orgy with the BakuSquad before when intoxicated. Still mentions it in passing just in case they change their minds.

. Has gone further with Katsuki and Eijiro though. Maybe both at the same time once or twice or several times...

. Wonderfully filthy dirty talk. Can even make Katsuki blush.

. (A personal favorite of mine that was in a previous post) When they were first years, Eijiro asked innocently enough, to touch her horns. He was gentle but that didn't matter. Our poor girl was so damn flustered! Her face turned red bright, she felt hot, and she had to go take a very cold shower!

. Ei felt terrible about it. It took them both maturing for her to explain exactly why she reacted that way... and then asked him to do it again.

. Is likely to send NSFW texts and photos while people are indeed at work. She is a Pro Hero though so only certain people are allowed to have those photos. A scandal is the last thing she wants.

. Very good at communication and is not afraid to speak her mind about what she wants and needs out of a relationship and her sex life.

. Loud, very loud, very needy.

. Fuzzy handcuffs in every color she can think of and adores impact play.

. Let her know she's doing a good job, Mina responds well to praise.

. Big cuddler after sex. Wants to snuggle into you and more than likely take a nap.

#mha headcanons #bnha headcanons #mha #mina ashido #mina ashido headcanons #mina ashido fluff #bakusquad #bakusquad headcanons #mina ashido smut #katsuki bakugo smut #eijiro kirishima smut #kirishima #bakugo #denki kaminari #hanta sero #shoto todoroki #bakukirimina

[luna-redamancy]

Fix It (Thorin x F!Reader) 18+ NSFW Commission

Thank you @anjhope1 for the Ko-fi! Here is your ko-fi commission! 

Note: The Thorin image as well as the divider is not mine. The Thorin image was originally posted by @thearkenstone-ck​ (I found it on pinterest, luckily the url is at the bottom right) and the dividers used are by @firefly-graphics​​ which can be found Here 

Warnings: Smut, angst, Thorin being an ass for a bit. 

⚠️18+ Content ahead, Please read at your own risk ⚠️

It wasn’t unknown to you that braids have significance, in fact that was the first conversation you ever had with Thorin upon him asking for your approval to court you- how important and vital the braid was. How each placement of the strands of hair was significant, how by tilting the braiding outward you can declare a budding love, but inward you can declare a passing of something, such as a birthright. 

‘Yet how did this happen?’ You mentally scolded yourself as you watched each passing dwarf look at you like you were a conundrum. You knew it had to have been your hair. It was Muhudtuzakhmerag, or Spring Fest, in Erebor and Thorin requested you wear a traditional ‘Queen’s Braid’ to the event to walk alongside him. 

The request itself was simple, and sweet of him, to want you to participate like the queens before you, however, there was not a single portrait of what the said braids looked like. So you simply went by your best educated guess coupled with the old instructions written on ancient parchment that looked like it was going to fall apart any moment now. 

The festival would begin with the giving of the straw. First, Thorin would place a strand of the straw into your hair, and you into his tunic pocket. This was to symbolize the true connection and reliance the dwarves had with nature. The next event was the ‘Carrying of the Straw’ where you and Thorin would lead a line of dwarves through the kingdom, assisting each other in carrying a barrow of straw to the feast room. All to honor Yavana, Mahal’s wife who originally gave the first dwarves their first straw of barley. 

To say this event was huge for the dwarves would be an understatement. And, with this knowledge, you had hoped to look your best for Thorin. 

As soon as you entered the throne room to meet with Thorin, Balin, and Dwalin before the event, you knew you messed up royally. 

“(Y/n)...” Balin began gently, before Thorin’s angry voice startled you. 

“What in Mahal have you done?” Thorin wasn’t shouting, but his fists were clenched like he was desperately trying not to. 

“I tried my best to follow the instructions, is it that awful?” You looked at Balin and Dwalin, your eyebrows furrowed and your expression hurt at Thorin’s tone of voice. “What did I do wrong?” You asked the elderly dwarf, in hopes he would be able to give you advice before Thorin began speaking again. 

“Everything.” He spat, shaking his head with a humorless chuckle as he began to pace the throne room floor. 

“Lass,” Balin began before Thorin held his hand up, “Don’t speak to her.” 

“The one time I request for you to do something specific and you can’t even get that right!” Thorin shouted, making you flinch as you stood back, your eyes beginning to fill with tears. 

“I knew it was a mistake to ever court you, I never loved you to begin with.” 

A gasp left your throat, “T-Thorin…” You felt your heart sink to your stomach. He regretted loving you, courting you, marrying you, all because of one braid? 

“I can fix it,” You offered, your tone showing how close to the verge you were to breaking into tears, wanting to appease him so he wasn’t so angry with you. 

“You can’t fix being human,” He huffed, “I knew a low human would never be able to meet the standards of being the queen of Erebor. If I could turn back time and never let you join this journey, I would---”

“Thorin, enough.” Dwalin all but growled at him. “It is just a braid, you can re-do it for her.” Dwalin tried to reason but Thorin let out a humorless chuckle. “You can re-do a braid, but you cannot redo or undo the damage that has been done. She has shown she does not care about our culture or our practices.”

Looking to Balin, you suppressed a sob as tears went down your cheeks. “I’m so sorry,” You told him, eyes full of regret and pain as you quickly took the pins holding the braid in place out, the metal clanging as it hit the stone floor. 

“Lassie, it’s alright,” He began to soothe you but you shook your head.

“I’m so sorry,” You repeated shaking your head, exiting the room, with your hand up to your mouth to attempt to muffle the gasps leaving your throat as you continued to suppress the sobs threatening to escape. 

“Thorin what have you done?!” Balin shouted at him as soon as you fled the room, glaring at the boy he watched grow up in these stone walls. 

“Something I should have done a long time ago.”

“You will come to regret it. Don’t you realize you just told your wife that you despised her?” 

“I don’t have time to deal with this, we have a festival to lead.” Thorin brushed past both of them to go grab his crown for the festivities. 

As you put on a plain slip and slid into bed, you felt hot tears bubble down your face. He didn’t love you. All because you were human. Your heart ached as you heard the cheering, the Broken Bone Race being completed and the victor being given a medal, Thorin’s laugh trickling into your ears despite the many voices you have heard. That made you begin to sob as you clutched the pillow. 

“He doesn’t love me…” You murmured to yourself, wiping your tears. “He wants a dwarrowdam.” You felt your heart clench as those words passed your lips. 

Sitting up, you sniffled, wiping your eyes almost aggressively as you put on a robe. Maybe something in the library could help you with your love issues. 

Thorin couldn’t deny the worry in his heart as he searched the halls of Erebor for you a few days later. Upon returning from the festivities, Thorin wasn’t too concerned with your absence, figuring you needed time alone from the blow-up that occurred in the throne room, but when it was the third day that he hadn’t seen you at any meals, your very presence and being missing from his day to day activities such as your walks together, he knew something was wrong. 

His gut twisted as he walked down another corridor, before halting in his steps. “(Y/n)?” He breathed out, confused at the sight of you. You were dressed in the average dwarrowdam fashion, your hair up in braids like every other dwarrowdam he had come across. 

It wasn’t you. 

“Yes?” You cut straight to the point as you turned from your discussion with an advisor, and seeing Thorin’s dumbfounded expression, you excused the gentleman as you turned fully toward him. “What is it that you need, Thorin?” Your voice was cold, posture stiff as you stared him down with calculating eyes. 

It was like you were a different person altogether. 

“What happened to you?” Was all he could think to say. 

Tilting your head, you raised a brow at him. “What you wanted.” Was all you answered as you turned on your heel, leaving him in the stone hallway all alone as you went to speak with the advisor once more. 

Bursting through the doorway, Thorin’s voice caught the ears of the Company members fairly quickly. 

“There’s something wrong with (Y/n)!” He yelled out, completely unsettled by your appearance. He knew you preferred your hair loose, not confined by things, and how you liked to wear flowy dresses made by soft fabrics, not thick dresses weighed down with crystals and braided fabric tassels. 

“You finally noticed.” Dwalin scoffed, continuing to sharpen his blades, his disapproval of Thorin very clear. 

“Aye, it wasn’t like she was missing from your chambers for three whole days and four whole nights.” Balin’s tone was clearly passive aggressive as he handed out documents to each member. 

At Thorin’s lost expression, Balin chuckled bitterly. 

“You told her you didn’t love her, that you despised her because she was human and what did you expect her to do!” Balin finally lost it, throwing his papers across the room, tears welling up in his eyes. 

“She didn’t deserve that, Thorin!” Balin yelled, a tear going down his cheek. “All she wanted to do was make you happy and instead of applauding her effort and guiding her to the correct way, you belittled her! You ruined her self-esteem and told her she meant less than the dirt on your boots.”

“She didn’t deserve any of that… And now… Now you have the audacity to come in here like you did nothing wrong?” 

“I didn’t realize…” 

“You don’t seem to realize a lot of things, Thorin.” Balin huffed moving to pick up his papers as Fili, Kili, and Ori helped collect them from off the ground. 

“I have to do something.”

Bofur shook his head, “If she’d let you.” 

Thorin looked at him like he just grew two heads. 

Rolling his eyes, Bofur shook his head again. “You were an utter arse, Thorin. You expect some weepy apology is going to make her forget everything you said? How little your actions have done to prove you do indeed care for her?” 

“She’s lost weight, Thorin. She doesn’t come to meals, she hardly sleeps. And what do you notice? Oh, that she’s wearing a traditional dress.” Bofur’s sarcasm seeped through his tone. 

“Y’know, Thorin, I hope she doesn’t forgive you. I hope she doesn’t let her sorry excuse of a One back into her life.” Bofur’s words cut into Thorin, hitting him where it hurts most. And for a moment, Thorin wasn’t Thorin son of Thrain, son of Thror, king of Erebor. In this moment he was a young dwarrow being scolded. 

“But if you do somehow manage to weasel your way into her good graces, you better work your arse off to prove to her that you care for her.” 

“I will.” 

Bofur huffed through his nostrils as he went back to carving a wooden duck as if Thoin wasn’t even there. 

“You better go find her, then.” Dwalin nodded to Thorin, a small smile on his face was all Thorin needed to feel encouraged as he set off to go find you. 

Seeing Thorin for the first time in the past couple of days affected you more than you’d like to think, his harsh words being pulled from the back of your mind to the forefront, replaying in your head over and over. Instead of meeting with your advisor, you waited until Thorin was gone so you could go back to your room, the room you originally had before you and Thorin were wed. 

Looking into the mirror, you couldn’t help but criticize everything about yourself. Your braids weren’t as taught as how they were this morning. The gown made you look radiant this morning but now it felt like a bulky mess that you shouldn’t have attempted to wear. 

“Is it all for nothing?” You wondered as you stepped away from the vanity mirror and sat on the edge of the bed. 

“He didn’t even notice.” You scoffed, flopping backwards. 

The next morning, Thorin was adamant on approaching you. 

“Good morning, Dushin-Mizim (dark jewel).”

“Morning, King Thorin.” Your reply was short as you walked past him, your hair half braided today, and in a less formal traditional dwarvish gown. 

Thorin frowned, usually you’d kiss his cheek and say “Good morning, my love,” to him before he’d hold your hand and the two of you would walk together. Not that he blamed you for not doing so.

Instead of eating with him, you sat at the other end of the table, alone as you carefully ate your breakfast. 

Sighing, Thorin brought the water glass up to his lips. ‘I deserve this,’ he thought as he watched the way the sunlight filtered through the sky-lights, making a rim of light circle the top of your hair, making you look angelic. An ache began to settle in his chest, he missed you. 

He’s got to come up with a plan. 

“How was your day, Ghivashel (Treasure of all treasures)?” Thorin attempted to make conversation as you approached after exiting a meeting.

“Perfectly fine, King Thorin.” You responded icily as you walked past him, your face stoic until you moved where he couldn’t see your face. Your eyebrows were furrowed and you bit your lip. ‘Does he love me still?’ you pondered, but that thought was quickly squashed when you realized he began to act lovingly again once you were in dwarvish attire. ‘He loves the facade.’ you decided as you walked to your room. 

Looking in the mirror, you shook your head. “This isn’t me.” You murmured to yourself, while you had nothing against dwarrowdams, you knew this style of dress, this hairdo, it wasn’t yours. It didn’t suit you. You felt like a wolf in sheep's clothing, an imitator waiting to be revealed. 

Unravelling your hair, you sighed as your scalp was relieved of the taught pressure. Reaching behind you to unravel the laces of your bodice, you let out a relieved groan as you pulled the thick fabric off of you in favor of pulling on a light night gown. 

Returning to the mirror you brushed your hair, refreshed to see it how it usually is. Free and relaxed. 

“I’m done pretending... “ You told yourself, nodding to your reflection. “I am (Y/n), a human.. Not a Dwarrowdam.” You felt tears build in your eyes, “and if Thorin wants one so bad, then so be it, but I will not erase myself for his pleasure.”

The next morning you felt alive again, as if someone had cleaned out the cobwebs of your chimney and lit the fire once more. Putting on a loose gown, you only brushed your hair, carefully placing oils where they were needed before looking in the mirror. You finally looked like yourself again. 

“Good morning, amrâlimê (My love).” Thorin called out to you as you exited your bedding chambers, making you pause in your stride.

“Good morning, King Thorin.” You responded blandly, watching as he analyzed you, your expression cool but your heart hammering inside of your chest. Would he say anything? Would he stop calling you the names you cherish close to your heart?

“You look radiant,” He smiled at you, before letting it drop, his expression turning serious. “I would like to have a talk with you, today, whenever you have time, of course.” He looked nervous as he spoke, something you hadn’t seen since the day he asked to put in your courting braid. 

“I’ll be free this evening,” You told him, curious as to what he needed to tell you. 

You could practically see the cogs turning in his head as he nodded, like he was having an inner conversation before looking into your eyes. 

“Would you… Do me the honor of meeting me in the gardens this evening?” Thorin held his hands behind his back, nervously rubbing his thumb over the other one, just waiting for you to say no.  After all, he had to earn your trust again, to earn your love again. 

You paused, a ‘no’ quick to push itself to the tip of your tongue, but as you watched his eyes dart around your face, his eyebrow scrunched like how it always does when he’s worried, you felt your face soften. 

“I shall.” You chose to say instead, a smile threatening to lift your cheeks as he perked up like a puppy, a spark returning to his eye. 

“You won’t regret it, I promise.” He vowed, hesitating, like he was ready to give you a kiss before physically holding himself back. 

Coughing nervously, he nodded, “I will see you then.” 

You couldn’t deny the disappointment that bubbled in your chest as he walked away, you had hoped he would offer to walk you to breakfast. 

“Well with how you’re acting, don’t be surprised if he thinks you hate him now.” Your inner voice taunted but you shook your head, you had every right to be upset with him. 

The day seemed to drag on and on, and as you dragged your feet to the dining hall after your final meeting,  you remembered Thorin had wanted to see you. 

“The gardens,” You hummed to yourself as you headed that way, seeing petals of (favorite flower) being littered on the ground. Raising a brow, you followed them, a small smile growing on your face as you approached the entrance to the gardens. 

Thorin stood staring at the stars, his back turned and between you and him sat a table. Two plates, two chairs, two water glasses. 

“So your discussion was a date?” Your voice pulled Thorin from his thoughts, his head quickly swinging to face you. 

“Not exactly, no.” Thorin spoke quickly, as if your words scalded him like a hot pan. 

“If you do not wish to stay for the meal then I will not ask you to.” He began, gesturing to the seat. “But I will ask if you’d like to take a seat so you can be comfortable while we talk?”

Biting your lip, you let out a breath before chucking off your heels, your feet sinking into the cool grass as you approached the table. 

Thorin sighed in relief, believing you were going to turn your back and leave the minute he opened his mouth. 

“What is it you wished to talk about?” You questioned, your voice professional as you took a look around the gardens. Lanterns were placed all around the garden, giving the space an ethereal glow and if you listened hard enough you’d hear the gentle noises of the creek. 

“I would like to apologise.” Thorin stated, and the statement alone nearly made you choke on your saliva. Thorin? Apologizing? 

“I… I have no reason, excuse or otherwise to explain to you why I spoke the way I did.” He furrowed his brows. “I am a horrible excuse for a husband, a failure of a One, and a failure as your friend.” Thorin spoke, his voice close to cracking before he cleared his throat. 

You frowned, not expecting this at all, especially the glassy look in his eyes. 

“I wanted to let you know I did not mean a thing I said.”

“I knew it was a mistake to ever court you, I never loved you to begin with.”  His words replayed in your head, your lip beginning to tremble. 

“Meeting you was the biggest blessing Mahal has ever given me, being able to love you and to cherish you was a gift I threw away,” Thorin’s voice finally cracked, as he let out a shaky sigh. 

“Menu tessu (You mean everything to me) and I was a fool to tell you otherwise.” He shook his head, angry at himself. 

“I love you, (Y/n), I love the way you take the blankets from me when we’re sleeping, I love the way your eyes sparkle when you’re happy, I love the way you care so much for people you love…” Thorin halted himself, looking up to the sky briefly before looking back to you. 

“But despite all of that, I have wronged you, I have wronged you and belittled you,” He frowned at the sight of your tears building in your eyes. 

“And I understand if you would like to leave.”

“Leave?” You couldn’t help but echo, causing him to nod. 

“After all I have done, I cannot expect you to want to stay with me, Men Kurdel (My heart of hearts). I made you feel inadequate, when I should be the one making you feel like a goddess. I failed you.” Tears slipped down Thorin’s cheeks. 

“That is what I wanted to discuss with you, a way to make your life easier, a way to just---” He sighed, “If there is one thing I want, (Y/n), it is to make you happy.” 

“And you think that’s away from you?” You cut him off, furrowing your brows as a tear slipped out, rolling down your face and dripping off your chin.

“I have spent days trying to make myself more like a dwarrowdam because you hate how human I am, because I want---” Your own sob cut you off, your breath hitching as you began to cry harder.

“Because I wanted you to love me again.” Your voice cracked as you barely got out the words, and at the same time, Thorin’s heart felt like it cracked in half as he watched you emotionally collapse in front of him. 

Thorin nearly leapt from his chair, moving to cradle you in his arms, yet unsure as he hovered his form close to yours. 

“Please, love me again,” You whimpered as Thorin pulled you into his arms, tucking your head into his neck as you sobbed. 

“I never stopped loving you, (Y/n),” He murmured into your ear, his arms tightening their hold on you as if this was all a dream. “I am so sorry,” Thorin wept as you clutched onto him just as tight. 

You missed him so much. 

“I will spend the rest of my life making this up to you,” He vowed, pulling away so he could look at you, tears springing to his eyes again at the look of anguish on your face. 

“Just please, come back to me, come back to our chambers, let me hold you, at least for just this night?” Thorin’s tone was on the edge of begging as he cradled your face in his palm, his forehead against yours.

Not being able to find the words, you nodded. And at that moment, he pulled you off the chair entirely, your form clinging to his as he brought you back to your shared chambers. 

Setting you down on the bed, Thorin pulled away to go to your wardrobe. 

“What’re you doing?” You tearfully asked, a whimper wanting to pull itself from your mouth at the lack of contact.

“Your nightgown--” 

“Thorin, please hold me.” His priority was your comfortableness while yours was to be as close as possible to him. Quickly shutting the wardrobe doors, Thorin returned to the bed, barely able to kneel on it before you latched yourself onto him again. 

Hugging him close, you could feel his heartbeat through his tunic. A sigh of relief left you before you looked up to him, seeing him already watching you with admiration and fear. Fear of you changing your mind and walking out of his life for good. 

“Kiss me, please?” You asked tilting your head back to make it easier for him to attach his lips to yours. Thorin’s expression softened as he captured your lips with his own. A needy whimper left your lips as you clutched his tunic in your hands, his own cupping your face as he kissed you deeply. 

Pulling away, Thorin pecked your lips one last time before pressing his forehead against yours. 

“Thorin, I need you.” You murmured, you had been deprived of his touch, of his love, for so long now. 

“I’m yours, I’m here,” He responded to you, not quite understanding your meaning, simply thinking you needed reassurance until you repeated yourself.

“I need you, Thorin.” 

His expression changed from one of concern to something sensual as he dragged his thumb across your cheek.

“Are you sure?” He couldn’t help but question, not wanting you to regret being with him when you were so emotionally fragile. 

“Absolutely.” You reassured, this time capturing his lips with yours, catching him off guard before he quickly fell into the rhythm you were searching for. 

Lowering you gently on your back, you felt the familiar pillows beneath you as you arched into him, your hips rolling into his causing a pleased groan to release from his lips, his hands finding your butt as he controlled your movement against his clothed crotch. 

“More, Thorin, please,” Your tone was leaning on the side of begging as he severed the kiss to pepper kisses along your jaw and neck. 

“I’ll give you all you want, amrâlimê,” He reassured, lifting off of you to help you with your dress, the offending fabric being tossed to the floor before he yanked off his tunic, leaving him bare chested with you in your undergarments. 

“Beautiful,” Thorin murmured, admiring the way your body was laid beneath him.

Smiling at him, you couldn’t help but admire him as well, the small scars from battles that have come and gone, the chest hair mostly covering him, the muscles beneath it. 

You were brought out of your admiring state as he began to remove your undergarments, leaving you bare with him still in his pants. 

“You’re very overdressed,” You hummed as he chuckled, the sound going straight to your core as he leaned back over you to kiss at your shoulders and the valley of your breasts. 

“Don’t worry about me, amrâlimê, focus on you.” He spoke softly as he kissed his way down your stomach, his hands coming up to tease your nipples for a moment, drawing a gasp from you. It served as a distraction as he skipped over your pussy to mouth at your thighs. 

“Thorin,” You couldn’t help but groan out as he purposefully neglected where you wanted him most. 

“Please,” You whined until you felt his breath over your pussy. 

“I said to focus on you, (Y/n),” He hummed, now massaging your inner thighs with his calloused hands. Before you could think of a response, his tongue stole the words out of your mouth as it came in contact with you. Licking, flicking, sucking, you couldn’t focus on what he was doing as the pleasure made you reach out and grab at his hair. 

Thorin swore he would make it up to you, and he planned to start right now through worshipping your body, making you feel every ounce of pleasure he could provide you. 

Looping his arms under your thighs, he held his hands above your hips, locking you in place as he feasted on you. 

“Thorin!” You couldn’t help but moan out, your tone high pitched as you felt yourself climbing higher and higher to your peak. Whether you called his name out of lust or trying to give warning, Thorin wasn’t sure, but he knew one thing for certain: you were close. 

He flicked his tongue over your clit rapidly, circling it before suckling the bundle of nerves into his mouth, his cheeks hollowing as he aggressively accelerated you to your climax. 

Your back arched as your grip on his hair tightened, your mouth opening in a silent moan as your hips wiggled up and down, his own grip loosening as he let you ride out your orgasm. Releasing your clit from his mouth, he kissed your inner thigh as you slowly calmed down. 

“Men lananubukhs (I love you),” Thorin whispered as he rested his head on your opposite thigh, rubbing circles on your hips. 

“What about you?” You questioned once you got your bearings again. 

Thorin shook his head, pressing another kiss to your inner thigh before crawling up to pull you into his embrace. “All I care about is that you are satisfied, my beloved.” He nuzzled the top of your head, feeling a sense of pride as your thighs continued to tremble from the intensity of your orgasm. 

“I told you before, all I want is to make you happy.” 

It felt like flowers were blooming in your ribcage, something soft and delicate taking place in your heart as you curled into Thorin’s embrace, his arm around the small of your waist bringing a sense of comfort. 

While nothing could erase the past, nor the heart that came with it, you’ve decided that for now, you would enjoy the peace that resonated in your heart. 

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Don't get caught! | Riddle Rosehearts

Synopsis: While visiting Heartslabyul, you couldn't help but want to be a hedgehog after seeing the way Riddle is so fond of them and spoils them. But be careful for what you wish for! It might just come true.

Note: This was a request but the ask was too long so I just posted this on its own. I had fun writing this! It was a very cute idea and got carried away so this turned out longer than expected, I hope you enjoy it!

You weren’t sure if this was a good idea or not. You weren’t even sure if this plan would work but Trey and the other Heartslabyul first years insisted that it was going to work—or at least, they’ll try to make it a success. You had absentmindedly let out a random thought a few days about your hair, saying how curious you are about how you would look like in different hair colours and hairstyles. Trey’s unique magic immediately came into your mind, Doodle Suit, and you couldn’t help but comment on how convenient it would be if it could temporarily overwrite your appearance.

You felt bad for asking Trey a favour so suddenly but much to your surprise, he indulged you and said that it isn’t any problem. Of course, you knew nothing about the way his magic works and if it really isn’t a problem to him. Though you decided to trust his words and agreed to meet up with him in the Heartslabyul Dorm during the weekends. Grim, Ace and Deuce tagged along behind you as you entered the mirror to the dorm. Ace and Deuce wanted to be a little bit extra (or so you thought) and picked you up from your dorm.

The smell of freshly painted roses was in the air as your eyes adjusted to the sudden sunlight. You relished in the sight of the rose hedges lined up and the half-painted roses hanging from them, a few drops of red paint dripping to the green grass. The empty cans of red paint here and there as you walked through the stone path to the main building. You caught a few glimpses of a few students scrambling to their feet as they picked up a brush and started painting the roses.

Behind them, you could barely make out a familiar shade of red and a heart-shaped ahoge. You quickly turned to Ace, trying to calm your racing heart.

“Wait, where are we headed?” You asked them as Grim climbed up your shoulder.

“To the lounge, or Trey’s room. Whatever works.” Ace answered half-heartedly as he pushed the door open and scanned the room full of students for the green-haired vice dorm leader.

“Nevermind, we’re going to his room.”

Saying the hallways of Heartslabyul was confusing is a big understatement. The twists and turns of the halls more or less made you dizzy just from looking at it. The fact that you don’t know the actual way to Trey’s room made it harder for you to navigate where you were headed to. Deuce grabbed the hem of your sleeve when you were about to make a turn, whispering to you about how his room was still up ahead. Grim had long gotten off your shoulder once he realized that he might get lost with you.

“Good grief… I don’t even have any idea about what colour I should go with first.” You sighed as you spotted a window that gave you a view of the rose maze. The countless green hedges adorned with white roses. Have they not painted this part of the maze yet? You paid it little mind as your eyes wandered to the small cage placed outside and the tiny creatures inside.

Hedgehogs?

Green, pink, and blue ones were all scattered and rolling around in the cage. You couldn’t get a good view but it seemed like someone was giving them food right now. You stopped in your tracks when you realized it was none other than the dorm leader who was doing it. He dusted his hands and stared at the small blobs of colour inside the cage. You couldn’t see it clearly but you saw him open his mouth as a small smile appeared on his face. You found it a bit cute—cute how caring he seems to get when it comes to them.

It must be nice to be a spoiled hedgehog under Riddle’s care huh…

You shook your head, the tips of your ears growing hotter as you told yourself off about having such weird thoughts. Your head snapped back to where Ace and Deuce originally were but only to find them out of sight.

You felt panic rise in your throat as you looked left and right, your eyes searching for the familiar figures. You scolded yourself, regretting getting distracted by that redhead you seem to be so enchanted by. You wandered around the hallway, the knot in your throat growing tighter as you prayed that you won’t get lost.

“Geez! Just how big is this place?” You leaned against the window’s ledge as you let out a small pant. You’ve been walking around the dorm for what felt like hours now but you found yourself in the same place as before—by the window where you watched Riddle tend to the hedgehogs as you sighed.

“Um, excuse me…” The sudden voice behind your back made you jump in place a little. You quickly turned around and was met with a male student with brown hair. Your tense muscles visibly relaxed.

Finally! There was someone you could ask. You opened your mouth slightly to ask but before a single word could be formed—he asked you an unexpected question. He caught sight of the scene you were staring at before his involvement.

“Oh! Were you watching the Dorm Head?” Dense as a rock. The student didn’t think twice before asking this question, his eyes not registering the way your eyes widened slightly and your stance stiffened. You kept silent.

“Hehe, it seems like he’s taking care of the hedgehogs personally.” He mentioned, his voice laced with the faintest bit of admiration when he stared at the scene beside you. You tried to shrug it off but the curiosity inside you couldn’t stay silent any longer.

“...Is it anything special? Riddle taking care of them personally, I mean.”

“Eh? Well… no, not really. It’s just that he really likes them, so he tends to spoil them whenever he’s on duty.”

“Oh, is that so?” You tried looking the other way, trying to keep the nonchalant tone. But the moment you looked away—you could feel a small smile creeping up your face.

Cute.

You shook your head before you got carried away by any other thoughts and turned to the student. You need to do what you came here for!

“Oh, by the way, do you know how to get to Trey’s room?”

“Eh?”

“What the hell took you so long!?” Ace was the first one to greet you with his fist meeting your head without any warning. You winced a bit, clutching your head and fought back with your words.

“It was your fault for walking too fast!”

“Hah? Didn’t we warn you to keep close to us?”

“You said nothing about that!”

“Oh.” Ace fell silent. The corner of his lips suddenly curling up, as if a realization struck him.

“Haha! Don’t mind, everyone makes mistakes right?” There was nothing stronger than the feeling of wanting to slap the grin off his face right now. Had it not been for Deuce trying to keep the peace between you, you weren’t sure if you could've held yourself back.

“Moving on,” Deuce placed a hand over your shoulder. “Trey-senpai’s room is just up ahead. Don’t lose sight of us again, alright?”

It was hard to navigate yourself around the dorm. If there was one crucial thing they hadn’t told you about the dorm, it was the fact that if you weren’t a Heartslabyul student or school faculty, you were bound to get lost amidst the twists and turns. But in their defense, they didn’t expect you to get distracted so easily. You nodded as you followed behind the duo once again.

After a minute or two, you found yourself face-to-face with Trey in front of his dorm room. That’s when you realized you haven’t thought about what colour you’d like after getting lost but your thoughts were cut off when Trey suddenly spoke up.

“Oh, you guys are here. You were a bit late, did you run into some trouble?” He asked as he urged you three (four if you’re counting Grim) into his room.

“(Y/N) got lost~!” Ace chirped in a singsong voice as he threw his arms back behind his head.

“Eh, really? Be more careful next time, you’re lucky you were found quickly—otherwise, who knows how long you’d be stuck there.” The closed-eyed smile on his face made his terrifying words seem normal. You wondered if there were previous cases that went way worse than what you went through. You let out a relieved sigh inside your head, thanking the student that found you.

“Then, let’s make this quick.” Trey guided you to a chair, dragging you gently by the wrist and made you sit there as Ace, Deuce, and Grim stood beside you. Their growing curiosity couldn’t be masked.

His instructions were clear enough. He said that you should try to paint an image inside your head. Envision what you would like to look like while closing your eyes and then he’ll activate his unique magic. He also mentioned that it would only last 24 hours or shorter if interfered with stronger magic and that he can revert the spell after a certain period if time just in case you wanted to remove it quicker.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, trying to paint an image of yourself you’d like to see.

“Ready? I’ll start now.”

You thought of your favourite colour, envisioning yourself with that certain hair colour. Wondering if Riddle would like it if he saw it. Oh, maybe if you were a (F/C) coloured hedgehog, he might find you cute!

“Doodle Suit!”

A small puff of smoke appeared just right after Trey finished his incantation. You felt a bit groggy and weird, was it supposed to feel like this? You opened your eyes, your vision adjusting to the sudden light until you realized the situation you were in. Everything seemed a hundred times bigger than they usually were and everyone inside the room seemed to have grown bigger. Everyone except you.

You felt so small.

“Eh!? Trey-senpai, where did they go?” The panic in Ace’s voice was unlike him. But Deuce was even more panicked than him, he thought that maybe they messed up and you disappeared for good. Grim was looking frantically everywhere.

You wanted to shout out. Tell them that you were still here but oddly enough, instead of a voice, a very weird sound came out of your mouth. The room froze when they heard it. Trey was the first one to spot you, a nervous chuckle slipping from his mouth as he held your small body up.

“It seems like your friend… turned into a hedgehog.”

Eh?

Eh!?

You messed up. Countless thoughts swirled rapidly at dangerous speeds as you thought about what could’ve gone wrong. You swore you did his instructions properly, you thought of what you wanted to look like and—

At the last minute, you thought about hedgehogs. That’s what went wrong. You wanted to bury your face into your hands but your new incredibly short four legs couldn’t even reach your face. This was a new level of embarrassment, you just wished that this was all a bad dream. You lied down flat on Trey’s palm, hiding your face from everyone as you heard Ace barely being able to contain his laughter.

“Pfft—” He clamped a hand over his mouth, trying to tell himself not to laugh but the situation made it hard for him to follow his instructions. Deuce, on the other hand, was crouching down while clutching his stomach—trying to keep his laughter as silent as possible. Grim had an indifferent expression before he approached you. He scaled your size compared to him and that’s when he lost it.

If you could speak, you would’ve told them to cut it out but much to your misfortune, you were left to make weird noises hedgehogs made. And if you were to make sounds like that, you were pretty much sure that they would laugh harder at you.

“Oh man, this is gold! I can’t believe you turned into a hedgehog.” Ace let out, that stupid grin on his face wider than ever.

“Though that does make me wonder how you managed to think about hedgehogs.” Deuce crossed his arms and pondered, finally calming down. Before he could dive deeper into his thoughts, Trey interjected.

“That isn’t important right now. We better think of what to do with your friend.”

“Trey-senpai, can’t you just overwrite it with your unique magic?” Deuce asked him.

“Unfortunately, it’s going to take a while before I can use my magic on them again. We need to put them somewhere safe for a while, can one of you keep them with you or do you know a place we can leave them?”

“Well, how about…”

“Hup! Off you go!” You hopped off Ace’s hand into the small cage he pushed you into. You felt yourself tense up when you were surrounded by your fellow small creatures, wondering if it was alright for you to sneak in like this. Ace assured Deuce that no one would notice an extra hedgehog inside the cage and decided that it was alright for you to stay there.

You had your doubts and troubles about this course of action but what can you do except comply? Your fate was temporarily in their hands—you were completely helpless. You just stayed behind as you watched Ace, Deuce, and Grim fade into the distance as they walked further and further away.

You looked around, trying to find something you can entertain yourself with but only to be met with immeasurable disappointment when you found out there was absolutely nothing you could do except eat, drink, or sleep. What’s worse is that you don’t know how long you were going to be here. You lied down on your stomach as you stared into space, a sudden wave of tiredness came over you as you felt your eyelids close.

Perhaps a short nap wouldn’t hurt.

You woke up to the heavy weight that rested over your body, you felt like you were being squeezed as a surge of panic took over you. You looked up to see that a green hedgehog was sleeping over you, it looked so comfortable that you felt bad for suddenly moving from your place. You couldn’t stay like this—you wanted to get out! You wished that Ace and Deuce just brought you with them even if it meant that they would probably get told off by Riddle for bringing out a hedgehog outside croquet matches.

“Hm? How strange… did I count correctly?” The sudden voice made you jump in your place, eyes darting everywhere to find out where it came from.

Wine red hair and slate grey eyes. There was no mistaking it—the voice belonged to none other than Riddle Rosehearts, the Dorm Leader of Heartslabyul. Confused, you wondered why he was still here. Didn’t his duty end a while ago? There was no reason for him to check up on the hedgehogs again!

“There’s an extra one?” His eyes shifted to you and you felt your blood run cold. How in the world did he know it was you out of everyone in the cage? You needed to think of something, quick. Who knows what he might do to you? Throw you out? Certainly, he wouldn’t do that… right?

“Don’t be scared. I won’t harm you, I promise.” Riddle’s gentle voice as he reassured you made you feel safe. You stared at his outstretched arm as a small smile appeared on his face and you couldn’t help but willingly hop into his palm. He brought you closer until you were on eye level with him. His grey eyes staring at you so intensely, you almost let out a squeak.

“Now then, we just have to find out who put you here.” He placed you on his shoulder and you felt the sudden panic sink in. You were in for a lot of trouble! You hadn’t expected Riddle to notice the extra hedgehog and you didn’t even expect him to come over in the first place. You cursed Ace and Deuce inside your head for leaving you there and expecting everything to sail smoothly.

If Riddle found out what happened, you were screwed. The best course of action you chose was to do your best to act like a normal hedgehog. That should be easy enough, right? Wrong! You didn’t know anything about how they acted and that fact alone made you declare this operation a failure.

Riddle walked away from the gardens and into the dorm building, your grip on his clothes tight because you were afraid of falling. Riddle felt the sudden shift on his shoulder and barely felt your claws ghosting over his clothes. He thought it was a bit strange, were you afraid of heights? But he paid it little to no mind as he continued walking and pushed open the door.

The students sitting in the common room suddenly stiffened up—they were first years and it was only natural that they were afraid of the strict Riddle Rosehearts. They stood up and greeted Riddle almost immediately, like soldiers.

"D-Dorm Leader!"

“Calm down, I’m not here to reprimand you or anything.” Riddle was irked at the way they visibly relaxed after saying that but he didn’t bother bringing it up. He scooted closer to them as he showed them the hedgehog on his shoulder.

“Do you know where this came from?”

Of course, the students could barely understand his question. They didn’t know the hedgehog was an extra head inside the cage and assumed that it was a normal hedgehog, so they answered:

“That’s a hedgehog, Riddle-senpai. It came from the cage they’re being kept in.”

“Of course I know that, I meant for this one specifically! It wasn’t here before.”

“M-Maybe it came from the forest and got lost?”

“It’s likely but how would it get inside the cage? That means a human probably put it in there.”

“Well… we don’t know.”

Riddle let out a sigh, trying to keep it together. It was going to be hard for him to find the culprit so he thought, just for a second, that maybe he should just let it stay inside the dorm. It wasn’t as if the world would end if he did, after all. But something deep inside his guts told him that he shouldn’t let go of this so easily. He dismissed the students and went to his room as he picked you up from his shoulder and into his palms.

“Where in the world did you come from…?” He brought you closer to his face and you felt like your heart was about to stop. His eyes widened as he made a sudden discovery. Magic? He felt the faintest bit of magic coming from you and that was enough to tell him that he should get to the bottom of this. But first—he needed an afternoon snack inside his room. After all, a queen should never make do without tea and snacks.

There was nothing more relaxing than having his favourite blend of tea in the afternoon accompanied by little snacks and biscuits that were served in little platters and teacups adorned with rose designs. It was to be expected as he was stuck in a dorm that was founded by the Queen of Hearts, it wasn't as if Riddle minded though—in fact, he grew fond of it. Daintily, he picked up his fork and took a small piece of his strawberry tart before putting it inside his mouth. Relishing in the burst of flavours that bloomed inside his mouth before turning his gaze to the small creature crawling on the table.

If you were already nervous back then, you didn't know how much more nervous you are now. You felt bad for feeling like you're deceiving him but at the same time, it wasn't as if you had a choice at all! Pushed into this seemingly hopeless situation, you wondered what would happen if somehow you transformed back into your original body right now. You shook your head and made yourself stray away from those thoughts—they never tend to end well once you think about them.

You tried distracting yourself by looking around the table and a certain snack caught your eye. You slowly made your way to it, your little feet pitter-pattering against the wooden material. Strawberry shortcake. Surely you were a tiny bit hungry after everything that occurred and not once did you get the chance to sit down and eat since you refused to eat the same food the other hedgehogs in the cage ate. You couldn’t help but look longingly at the small platter.

Riddle stopped halfway when he was about to take another bite out of his tart as he caught sight of you. Now, he wasn’t well-versed in the language of hedgehogs but it didn’t take an idiot to realize that you were hungry. He was a sucker for the rules of the Queen of Hearts but he wasn’t heartless. There was no harm in feeding you a little bit of that cake, right?

“Hm,” he contemplated for a split second, “just one small piece, okay?”

He took a small piece with his fork and nudged it towards you, expecting you to eat it. It took you a few seconds to understand what’s going on. Riddle, of all people, was feeding you. You didn’t know if you should be happy or not since you were in your hedgehog form but once you thought about it—didn’t you say earlier that it must be nice being a hedgehog spoiled by Riddle? Did the Great Seven up above hear you and decided to grant your wish?

Nonetheless, you took this as an opportunity. Who knows when you’ll get this close to Riddle ever again. You tasted the cake, eyes lighting up as you felt the sweetness of the frosting spread inside your mouth. You quickly took another bite until you finished everything with a content look. Riddle propped his elbow against the table and rested his chin on the center of his palm, looking at you with gentle eyes.

"...Somehow you remind me of a certain person." Riddle suddenly spoke up, his tone wary as he squinted at your figure. Your actions suddenly became more languid as you realized that perhaps the root of his suspicion was because of your erratic movements.

Surely he doesn't know it's me, right…!?

"(Y/N)," you froze up. "You remind me of them for some reason."

You went through the possible list of reasons how he came to that conclusion inside your head as you felt your heartbeat beat faster. For some reason, this whole scenario felt like it came straight out of a horror film. Out of all the names he could’ve said, he chose to say yours. The panic subsided as you suddenly grew curious about what exactly reminded him of you.

There was the slightest, smallest, unlikely chance that it was because he liked you but that was too far-fetched, right? Your imagination was going wild and unknowingly, you let out a small squeak. Riddle chuckled at the sudden sound, the corners of his lips tugging up into a smile. He stopped to think for a moment, he was alone, right? There was no one else in the room but the hedgehog and him, right? He took a deep breath.

“Speaking of them, something has been on my mind right lately… and it’s bothering me to no end.” He started, a downcast expression was on his face and you couldn’t help but worry. Did you perhaps do something to upset him? The thought itself made you panic inside. You couldn’t help but scoot away from him a little.

“I think I like them.”

What.

WHAT!?

You wondered if turning into a hedgehog made your hearing worsen or Riddle just made a mistake. There was no way what you heard was right, right? But, even then, Riddle had a slightest tint of pink spreading on his face as he looked down in slight embarrassment. It was hard to believe that he didn’t mean it or that he made a mistake in what he said. You felt your heart explode at the sudden realization and discovery.

“But the problem is that I think they’re avoiding me. I’m a bit afraid that they don’t like me,” Riddle sighed, “not a lot of people like me after all.”

“That’s not true!” is what you wanted to say had it not been for the fact that you can’t. But as they always say—actions speak louder than words. You scooted closer to his hand on the table and placed one of your front paws over his hand, hoping that he would take it as a form of reassurance. His eyes widened slightly at the sudden gesture, surprised that maybe the hedgehog understood his feelings and tried comforting him.

“Eh, you’re full of surprises aren’t you? Did you actually understand what I said?”

Without thinking it through, you nodded.

“Ah-! You really do… that’s strange. But anyway, thank you for your reassurance. Maybe one day I’ll get the chance to confess b-but that’s not important right now, I need to find out where you came from.” Riddle urged you to go to the palm of his hand and you complied with no complaints. He lifted you until you were at eye-level with him.

“Let’s continue looking, shall we?” Before he let you go, he placed a kiss on your head as a sign of endearment. You swore you were about to let out another squeak until a cloud of smoke suddenly appeared from nowhere and you felt your body get bigger as you closed your eyes shut.

You wrapped your arms around Riddle’s neck so as not to fall and you felt his arms go under your shoulders and knees as he let out a surprised noise—realizing he was carrying you when the smoke thinned out. His eyes widened in surprise and his face was as red as his face when he looked at the person he was carrying. There was no way. No absolute way this was happening to him.

You stared at him nervously, face red as you violently wondered why the spell suddenly went undone. Trey never mentioned anything about a kiss being able to undo it so why…!? Countless questions took over your mind but there was only one thing you could focus on right now.

What do I do now?

“Ahaha… Hi Riddle…” Nervously, you started.

“Y-Y-You…”

“It’s me, (Y/N)...!” You had the feeling this wasn’t going to end well.

“M-My confession…”

“Oh yeah, about that I—”

“OFF WITH YOUR HEAD!!”

Extra:

"E-Eh!? That came from Riddle-senpai's room right now. Do you think he's okay?" A random student asked the person beside them, crossing their arms as a pensive expression took over their face.

"Hmm, do you think we should check? Or tell Trey-senpai?" The other suggested. But as soon as Trey's name was uttered, he emerged from the hall with a satisfied grin on his face—as if he accomplished something great.

"Don't worry about Riddle, he's just having a little bit of fun with someone right now." He chuckled, not doing well to ease the students' worries.

"Trey-senpai...? Oh, he's gone. What do you think he meant by that?"

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst writing #fanfic #twisted wonderland x reader #your takoyaki has been served! #heartslabyul #twisted wonderland riddle rosehearts #riddle rosehearts x reader #riddle x reader #twst riddle #riddle rosehearts #trey was eavesdropping the whole time and decided to cause a little bit of trouble #why? 🥰 because he wants to give his dorm leader a little push !!!! #riddle was traumatized after that #he shoved u outside his room and he was this 🤏 close to tears

[sxnnimoon]

Little One pt. 6

Part 6 is here babies! I hope you all love it and I hope you all have a great weekend! (also if anyone knows to do those text and social media posts of artists and celebs please let me know!)

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“Park seo joon… WHY?!” you glared at him.

“Oh come on princess,” he smirked. “You should know me better than anyone else.”

You tried to move away from his hand that came to your face.

“You were mine before theirs.” he grabbed your face.

“You’re crazy.” you said, barely above a whisper.

“It was only a matter of time before I could have you all for myself.” he smirked leaning in.

You whispered out a no before he let go of your face. He took a few steps away from you before he turned around and hit you, instantly apologizing.

You spit out a bit of blood, you wanted nothing more than to cry out but tried keeping yourself together.

“What will you gain from this?” you looked up at him with disgust.

“What aren’t you getting?” he tilted his head. “I finally have what's mine. You would be mine if they didn’t come into the picture. They always took away what was mine.”

You were confused on what he meant but you could see the sadness in his eyes for a split second, but it soon switched to anger.

He rushed towards you. Fear setting in, not knowing what he was going to do. He untied you from the chair leaving your feet and hands bound. He picked you up, carrying you out of the empty room. You tried looking at where you were, all you could see was a carpeted floor and paintings scattered on the wall. It felt familiar, like you had been here before but you couldn’t think of where. Before you knew it you were thrown on to a bed. You clutched the shirt that covered your body tight feeling the sleeves slip down your shoulders. Looking around the room you could finally piece together where you were.

“The villa…” you whispered.

He chuckled darkly, he knew you figured it out.

“Why bring me here?” you looked at him confused. “They will find me. It’s only a matter of ti-“

He slapped you.

“ENOUGH!” he yelled, making you jump back. “Let them come. It won’t end well for them.”

He left the room soon after. You couldn’t believe he would bring you to the one place they would find you, the villa your family owned, it was where you met Seo Joon in your high school days, it also had been a place you would bring the boys when you wanted a few days away in the woods for peace and quiet. You both were best friends up until you married. His behavior changed once you started seeing any of the boys, it had become clingy and possessive. You never knew him like that, he was always the sweet, shy and smart Park Seo Joon. you couldn’t grasp where it all went wrong. It saddened you but you had to remain strong, you couldn’t let your guard down.

A few hours passed and he finally returned, this time with food and water. He walked towards you, making you tense up and move away. He pulled you by your ankles. You tried fighting back.

“I’m untying you, chill the fuck out.” he hissed. “Now don’t try anything.” he pointed at you before sitting in the chair across from where you were.

“Now eat,” he grumbled.

You stared at the food, not having the strength to move.

“I may have taken you but i can assure you it’s not poisoned.” he said rolling his eyes.

You ate slowly.

“Now that you have me, what will you do to me?” you ask him.

He liked that you wanted to ‘talk’ to him, you knew he wouldn’t shut up once you got him going. As he went on listing all the things he was gonna do you were getting uncomfortable and disgusted. You also could sense and hear commotion from outside. He obviously didn’t notice. It wasn’t until you could see movement under the door that you changed up your plan.

“You are insane.” you said with disgust. “You really think I would have been with you back then let alone now? We made out once, ONE time seo joon. You really think I would fuck someone like you?” you decided to get him riled up which would get him off guard.

You could see the fiery expression in his eyes at your words.

“Honestly, you aren’t even man enough for this. You are nothing but a scared little boy who is just pissed that the one thing he wants isn’t his and doesn’t want him back.” you fake pouted.

“Keep it up,” he said lowly pointing a finger at you.

“Or what? You are nothing compared to my men. Unlike you, they know the difference between protectiveness and borderline crazy.” you knew it was working, you could see the feet stop in front of the door.

“THAT'S IT!” he yelled before charging at you.

He was stopped in his tracks when the door was bussed down.

“WHAT TH-” he was cut off by a gunshot.

You screamed. You looked up seeing Yeonjun. He was one of Hoseok’s best men.

“IS HE DEAD.” you shouted, looking at him passed out on the floor.

“He’s still alive, just wounded.” Beomgyu said, checking his pulse.

“Death would be too easy.” Yoongi said walking in.

“YOU'RE HERE!” you jumped into his arms.

He held you tight against him.

“ARE YOU REAL?!” You said, frantically running your hands all over his face.

“Yes we’re real little one.” Jin said coming into the room.

“Get him out of here. I’ll deal with him later.” Hoseok said, coming into view, The others, not too far behind.

“Why would he do this?” You looked down pouting.

“We found files he kept hidden with nothing but pictures of you Miss.” Beomgyu said.

“And a few of the bosses with holes through their heads.” Taehyun said. “Not to mention the nude ones…”

He looked at you with sympathy.

You shook your head.

“I want to see them.” You said, wiping tears off your face.

“..baby..” Joon said, coming towards you.

You put a hand up for him to stop.

“I want to see EVERYTHING. No arguments” You said sternly.

They nodded.

You all began walking out to the SUV’s ready to head home.

“Everything you need is already at the hotel.” Yeonjun said.

“Thank you.” You gave a small smile.

“We’re staying at one of the hotels while everything gets moved into the new house.” Taehyung said.

You nodded.

A new place meant new beginnings, but also much more hidden and higher security.

Arriving at the hotel you walked ahead of them instantly going to your room not wanting to be bothered.

Once in your room you noticed two huge boxes filled with files. You were an hour and a half into the first box barely making a dent. You cried here and there, You couldn’t believe how much he had stalked you. All the trips you went on, all the meetings, you in your restaurant, club. He was everywhere. It wasn’t until you got to the second box that you felt disgusted. The entire second box was nothing but you nude. You cried harder. This man was supposed to be like a brother to you, but he was too good to be true. He was at your wedding for god sake. You all let him in and this is how things ended up. You were sitting there with your head in your hands when your phone went off.

It was Taehyung.

Tae Baby🐾✨

T- are you okay?

T- I can hear you through the walls :(

Y- that doesn’t begin to cover it….

Y- cuddles?

T- omw

You soon heard a knock. You walked over to the door and opened it seeing him made you smile. You hugged him, his scent instantly making you forget everything. You get safe. Though the line of work he does he was definitely one of the softer ones out of the seven but also one the most feared along with Jimin. You stood there for a while before going to lay down.

Tae went to clear the bed taking notice of the photos left out. He covered his mouth, he was hurt and disgusted.

“Let’s just lay down.” You say taking the boxes away.

“How could we let him do this to you?” He whispered.

“We won’t be seeing him anytime soon, he’s done for baby.” You reassured him.

“We could have prevented this.” He said, trying not to cry.

“We didn’t know love,” you rested a hand on his cheek. “No one knew he could do this. Now let’s go to bed.” You kissed him.

He pulled you tight, he didn’t want you out of his sight. He thought he lost you.

As much as any of them didn’t want to admit it, you were their weakness. And it hit them hard thinking you were gone.

As you lay there in the dark, Tae wrapped in your arms you couldn’t help being wide awake. The images of the previous events running through your mind on repeat. The glow of your phone lit up the room. You were curious about who would be texting you at 3am. Eyes squinting you read the name.

Jiminie😚❤️

JM- are you awake?

Y- i am

JM- can I come in?

Y- you can :)

You locked your phone before trying your best to slip out of Taehyung's grasp. You put a pillow between you so he could still have something to hold on to for the time being. You walked to the door just before he knocked.

He smiled as you opened the door. He went to talk but you put a finger to your lips and pointed in the direction of a sleepy Taehyung.

He nodded and closed the door behind him.

He pulled you in close.

“Let’s just lay down.” You whispered, a yawn following.

Laying down in the middle of the two, your back facing Tae who immediately wrapped his body around you making you and Jimin giggle.

You played with eachothers hands neither one speaking. You could feel your eyes getting heavy.

“Sleep my love.” He said. “We’ll be here to protect you.”

He kissed your head and you were soon deep in sleep. You woke up to the sun in your face and tangled in arms and legs. You tried your best to wiggle out but Jimin’s hold on you tightened. You tapped his cheek earning a groan from him.

“I need to pee.” You said struggling to sit up.

“Don’t leave.” Taehyung whined.

“Do you really wanna sleep in a wet bed?” You smirked down at him.

“I am up.” He shot up.

Jimin slowly got up at the sudden movement.

You giggled and shook your head before going to the bathroom.

Walking out you hear the boys on the phone.

“Alright, we’ll pack everything up and head on out.” Tae said into the phone. “Okay bye.”

“What was that about?” You asked.

“Everything is moved into the house.” He smiled.

“We can head over once you are ready.” Jimin said.

It didn’t take long to gather everything. Down at the lobby you only saw one vehicle.

“Where are the others?” You raised a brow.

“They are already there making sure the security is set right.” Jimin said.

Upon arrival they put in a code to open the gates which wasn’t new but the long driveway was. It definitely had its similarities and differences. Walking into the house you could hear Hoseok and Joon giving demands about bodyguards for each of you. You walked in and all eyes were on you.

“Come meet your guard's love.” Joon said.

“I want to choose my own.” You demanded.

They both gave you a look. After the last two you wanted to make sure you were protected at all costs.

“I want Yeonjun and Soobin.” You said. “Don’t fight me on this Hoseok. Them plus Beomgyu have gone above and beyond for our family and I trust them with my life.”

“Okay.” He said.

“I can assure you all will do your absolute best to protect me and my family.” Joon said. “You’re dismissed.”

They stood there just looking at you.

“What?” you said, raising your brows.

“You…” Hoseok said, “amaze me.”

He smiled, running a hand through his hair.

“And here I thought you were too sweet to give out demands.” Jungkook said, smirking.

You stuck your tongue out at him.

“You guys must be rubbing off on me.” you shrugged walking away.

You walked around the house and property, making yourself acquainted with it all. Yeonjun and Soobin not too far behind keeping watch.

You walked to the balcony overlooking the trees, it was beautiful and the sunset added a nice touch.

“We could live here.” you said to yourself. “We could start a family here.”

You were too in thought to realize Soobin was calling you.

“Miss. The bosses need you back at the house, they say it’s time for dinner.” he said.

You nodded leading the way.

#bts mafia au #bts mafia fic #mafia bts #bts mafia imagine #bts imagines #bts #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts x reader #imagines