#I’ve been wanting to make this for months and just hadn’t gotten around to finishing it

[emuchipmunk]

This is my contribution to nascar

[the-thing-withfeathers]

pushing all the right buttons

a/n: ever since i started writing more & posting, i’ve had sooo much madison muse. so here’s a lil treat of dom!mads. this is also kind of in honor of the encore tour ending, she absolutely killed it this time around & i’m so grateful i got to see her.

pairing: dominant!madison beer x reader

warnings: kinda angsty at first but then smut smut smut, fluff at the end tho!!!! degradation, choking, oral & fingering (r!receiving), cursing, edging, hair-pulling, overstimulation.

summary: after not seeing madison for a bit, you decide to try and get a rise out of her.

•*¨*•.¸¸♪

madison had finished touring about a month ago. you had been at her final show and flew straight back home with her. ever since she’s gotten back though, your affection with her has been limited to kisses & cuddles. you wanted more after months of missing her.

at first, you chalked it up to her mainly being exhausted, which was fair enough, she got up on stage every night to perform her pieces of art. you couldn’t blame her for it. but as time went on, you started to wonder if maybe she lost attraction to you. you had to find a way to get that spark back.

you two were invited to a house party, it was hosted by one of your mutual friends as a celebration for everyone being in one place again.

you wanted to look good. not just good but amazing. you wanted her to notice you, to perceive you the way she used to.

you put on a backless cocktail dress that tied up behind your neck. you wore your down but styled it so it would be curled, your make up highlighted all your best features.

as you got ready in seperate rooms for the sake of having more bathroom space, you hadn’t seen what madison was wearing. your breath caught in your throat the second you saw her. she was in a blue sparkly dress, it was showing off everything you found beautiful about her body. you always thought she was captivating, her beauty unmatched. she had gold hoops on and her hair was tied up with a hair stick in it that you bought her when you visited her in japan.

“hey, baby.” she said, smiling at you. “you look great!”

great? that’s all?

“thanks.” you huffed, “you look amazing. i love the hair stick i got you!” you said, trying to lift your mood.

“i realised i haven’t used it properly.” she said, looking at it in the mirror. “thought it was about time.”

“yeah…” you muttered, grabbing your bag. “we should go. we’re already late.” you said, unclasping your purse to put your phone in there.

“alright, wait for me in the car.” she said, nodding and rushing to put the finishing touches on her make up.

“okay…” you simply said, walking down to the car and sitting in the passenger seat to wait for her.

•*¨*•.¸¸♪

the car ride was mostly quiet, the radio filling the gaps of silence. you realised she needed to focus on the road so you just used your phone for the drive.

when you both arrived, the party already had a handful of people in attendance. you two walked in and madison was immediately whisked away by her friends that have been waiting to see her when she got back, leaving you to fend for yourself a little bit.

you walked over to the drink table, pouring yourself something into a red solo cup. you feel a hand touch your shoulder.

it’s a girl you hadn’t met properly before but you know she had worked with madison on one of her music videos.

“heyy girl! oh my god, that dress is so pretty! i NEED to know where you got it!” she said, grabbing herself a drink too.

“awh, thank you!” you said. “um… i actually thrifted it. i made altercations to it myself.”

“what?! that’s insane. it looks like it hasn’t been touched at all!” she said, looking at the dress a bit closer. “you’re too talented!”

across the room, you felt eyes burn into the back of your head. you felt yourself to turn to where madison was talking to one of her friends, you two made eye contact. she didn’t look too happy. that wasn’t the reaction you wanted initially, but if it meant she paid some attention to you, maybe you would have to work with what you had.

“you’re too sweet.” you said, turning back to her. “but yeah! i alter a lot of my clothes, it’s just something i learned how to do.”

“that’s crazy. i think i’d just ruin my clothes if i tried.” she laughed, covering her mouth as she did. you laughed with her, it was geniune but you had to sell it. you leaned forward, touching her shoulder. she put a hand on your waist as you two made contact, laughing together still.

you found yourself chatting to this girl— who you found out was named gracie, actually having a decent conversation. you two talked about your jobs, your hobbies, and even a bit about your childhoods before you exchanged instagram handles.

while yes, you were partially using her to make madison jealous, you were excited to make a new friend on your own, at a party where you only knew a handful of people.

the whole time, you felt madison’s eyes on you. she kept glancing at you, a fire in those angry eyes.

•*¨*•.¸¸♪

madison felt herself scowl at the two of you. one of her friends, nick, started laughing at her.

“dude, you’re going to wrinkle if you keep doing that.” he chuckled, following her eyeline until he saw what she was looking at.

madison didn’t mean to be distant from you, she didn’t know why she wasn’t giving you the affection you wanted. she kept finding herself having to fulfill obligations from her work. she failed to realise you were needing her just as much.

she was seething seeing another girl give you the attention that she should have been giving to you.

she caught you excusing yourself for a moment and decided to make her move then.

“be right back.” she said, shoving her drink into nick’s chest and practicing stomping towards you.

•*¨*•.¸¸♪

you excused yourself from gracie to go find the bathroom. you struggled for a moment to find it before taking a chance and pushing one of the doors open to reveal it. you stepped inside and just as you were about to close the door, madison practically shoved the door open.

“mads— what—“ you were cut off by her hand wrapping around your throat, shoving you against the tile on the wall.

“my sweet girl, you thought you could just flirt with some other bitch and get away with it?” she asked, her sultry voice bouncing off the walls. “were you trying to upset me?”

you clawed at her hand, trying to push it away as tears welled at your eyes. as much as you were struggling to breathe, a part of you was excited to finally get what you wanted. you shook your head in a lie, whimpering softly as her hand pressed harder.

“well you sure as hell did.” she said, pressing kisses to your cheek. “are you a little slut for me? is that what you are? were you just being needy?”

you nodded, trying to gasp for air. as you tried to breathe through it, you felt a wetness pool at your core. you loved when she was gentle with you— but you loved this side of her just as much.

“well, you must be happy cause i’ll give you what you want, baby.” she said, her hand releasing your throat. you quickly inhaled the fresh air coming through the open bathroom window. you coughed a little, the air hitting your dry throat.

she pushed herself against you, straightening your back and her hands immediately found themselves lifting your dress. she turned you around and bent you over the sink.

“needy fucking whore.” she muttered, squatting down to pull your panties to your ankles. “fuck… you’re so wet. you love when i just throw you around, don’t you?”

“mmph… love when you throw me around.” you mumbled, holding onto the edge of the bathroom sink for dear life.

madison’s hand came down to smack your wet cunt then immediately after, started circling your clit with the pad of her thumb. you gripped the sink harder, crying out at the pain from the smack. “fuck!” you wailed out, your body jolting at the sudden contact.

“be quiet, bitch.” she said, sharpness on her tongue. “i wanna fuck you into oblivion, we can’t do that if someone catches us.” she said, smacking your pussy again. “you were being a bad girl…” she said, “this is what you deserve.”

you covered your mouth to prevent yourself from crying out again. you felt her mouth make contact with your wetness, her tongue fucking into your hole while her fingers worked your clit. your head fell down, your cheek against the counter. you were holding back moans but your efforts weren’t enough. you were crying out softly every time her tongue pushed into you, tears starting to fall out of your eyes.

this, paired with your touch-starved delirium, made you build towards an orgasm quickly— it didn’t even take madison a few minutes to get you close to the edge. when madison started to feel you shake, she immediately pulled away.

you sighed softly, realizing that you had been holding your breath in. your body relaxed but suddenly tensed up as madison’s fist bunched your hair up into a ball and she yanked you up, your back to her chest.

“look at yourself.” she ordered, forcing you to look at your red tear-stained cheeks. “so fucking good for me. am i really making you feel that good?” she asked, a smirk forming on her face as she laughed at you— it was embarrassing, she was taunting you. “you did this to yourself by thinking it was okay to let someone else touch you.”

“i’m sorry, mads.” you said, desperately wanting her to finish the job.

“sorry won’t do anything, baby. just let me do what i want to you then we can talk about forgiveness.” she said, her hair coming out of your hair and onto your breasts. she tore your dress open like it was nothing, you gasped at the gesture.

“if you’re so good at altering your clothes, you can put it back together.” she said, your breasts bouncing out of the dress. she moaned seeing them come out, your nipples hardening in the breeze.

her hand found its way around your throat again, applying less pressure than earlier but still enough to restrict your airways a little bit.

“watch me fuck you.” she said, holding your neck in place so you were watching. “watch yourself cum.”

she quickly found your clit again, your legs opening just a little bit more for her. she roughly rubbed at it with her middle finger as she placed her chin on your shoulder. she was watching you too. your hand found itself gripping onto her dress while the other was on the bathroom counter, stabilising yourself. you wanted to make noise but couldn’t get anything out because of her hand wrapped around your airway.

“i can feel you trying to moan, that’s so fucking hot.” she whispered, hot breath against your neck. “so fucking hot, baby.” she said, her finger suddenly entering you. you closed your eyes, the feeling was euphoric.

“hey!” she snapped. “eyes open.” she said, pulling her finger out to smack your ass. you whimpered at the loss of the build-up again, forcing your eyes open as she put her finger back into you.

“that’s it, love. you’re being good now.” she said, affirming you. you found yourself smiling at the sight of the two of you— you’ve been waiting for this for over a month and it’s just as good as you were expecting.

you felt that knot in your stomach start to form again, your grip on madison’s dress getting harder. she pumped her finger in and out of you quickly, her thumb supporting the motion by pressing against your clit. her grip on your throat loosened and you immediately let out a loud moan.

“mads.. mads, i’m gonna cum.” you managed to get out. your legs starting to grow weaker and your eyes starting to roll back into your head. you were seeing stars at this point.

“cum for me like the good whore you are.” she said, inserting another finger into you. “maybe i’ll forgive you then.”

it didn’t take much convincing for you to cum all over her fingers, crying out her name as your hand flew to her hair gripping as the tension in your belly snapped. your legs were shaking as she took her fingers out of you. you couldn’t hold yourself up anymore and fell down onto the floor, your back against the cold marbile bathtub.

“my pretty, pretty girl.” she cooed. your legs were still open so she brought her thumb to your clit again, earning a few jolts from you as you rode out your orgasm.

“you think i’m pretty?” you asked, a small soft smile forming on your face.

“i think you’re the most angelic creature to ever walk this earth.” she said, collecting your juices in her fingers, licking them clean as she pulled away.

“you haven’t made me feel pretty recently…” you pouted, your head reeling from the mind-blowing orgasm you just had. you’re pretty sure you lost control over your words.

“oh my baby… my sweet baby… if i ever do that again, you kill me on the spot.” she said, regretfully. “i’m sorry… let me make it up to you?”

you nodded with a toothy smile, your arms pulling her in for a hug. you were happy to have your girl back.

you two sat for a moment before you found your footing, standing up with madison’s help. you noticed your dress was ripped open still but neither of you had anything to cover you up.

“mads… you tore my dress.” you complained.

“oh! yeah… you may have forgiven me but i haven’t forgiven you.” she giggled. “second part of your punishment! walk back out to our car like that.” she said, turning you around to face the door.

“WHAT?!” you exclaimed.

“everyone’s drunk, they won’t notice a thing. they’ll probably forget about it too!” she defended her decision— which was totally not made just cause she got carried away by accident.

“mads… you can’t be serious.” you whined.

“oh i’m dead serious.” she nodded and slapped your ass.

“now walk, bitch.”

[imtryingbuck]

Pebbles

~ gif not mine credit to owner ~

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!Reader

Summary: you tell Nat something (great at summaries I know)

Word count: 842

Warnings: angst with fluff. mentions of cheating (readers ex) Nat being in love with reader. pregnancy. protective avengers. heavy use of pet names 

Translation: любит - loves (if wrong let me know please)

Masterlist

Running all the way to Nat’s room, managing to slip past everyone who tries to get a hold of you, concern filling their eyes.

All you need is Nat. Nat will make everything better, you was sure of it.

Knocking on the door to her room you bounce on your heels for her to hurry up and answer.

You was about to knock again when her door answered.

“Y-Y/n, what’s happened? Come here”

“I need to tell you something”

“Anything baby you know this”. She says as she moves the hair away from your face.

 "I know I could trust you so I came here." You say with tears streaming down your cheeks.

“Sweetheart you can, please finish what you were saying”. Nat’s heart breaks at the sight of your tears, wishing she could stop them from falling.

“Adam’s-“ Nat’s jaw clenched at the name of your ex who stupidly let go of the best thing he was ever going to have in his worthless life “new girlfriend messaged me saying that her and him were sleeping together for two months before I walked in on them, an-and she said its my fault that they keep arguing. Natty I’ve n-not done anythi-anything wr-wr-wr-“

“Baby breathe, oh Y/n breathe with me” Even with her green eyes focused on your trembling body she could see your twos friends at the door. She could feel the anger coming from them.

They’ve known you for as long as they’ve known Pepper, her being your auntie who’s raised you since you were a kid, introduced you to everyone. Straight away after Nat met you she had a crush and everyone knew it, even Pepper. She was devastated when she found out you had a boyfriend. 

“I-I’m so-sorry Natty”

“No printsessa don’t apologise, its not your fault”

“Sh-she said he knows about Pebbles b-but Natty she called Pebble a bast-“

“It’s okay baby, it’s going to be alri-“

“What if he tries to take Pebble away from us?”

She smirked, silently daring him to take their Pebbles away from them. Just so she could finally do what she promised you she wouldn’t do.

Natasha had found you crying in your room that Tony had given you for whenever you wanted to stay at the tower. You told her that you had walked in on Adam having sex with a woman in your bed, and then you dropped another bomb on her. You was pregnant. You had found out a week before, you hadn’t gotten around to tell him as you was still working on the gift you was going to give him.

Angry Nat scared a lot of people, Nat on a war path? terrified everyone including the Avengers.

Her heart and mind were at loggerheads with what you had just told her. Her heart told her hold you tight and reassure you everything was going to be okay. Her mind went straight to murder.

Reluctantly she listened to her heart, holding you long after you pasted out. Whispering promises that she’ll help you raise the baby.

It had been two months since she gained the courage to ask you out, and as the weeks go by during your pregnancy she reminds you that she’s here and she’s never leaving her любит. 

Everyone closest to you didn’t bat an eye or care that she was willing to help you raise a baby that wasn’t biologically hers because to them Pebbles - the name given by Morgan - was Natasha’s, no matter what.

And if your ex wanted to try and take the baby it would be the most dumbest thing he would ever do. They will protect their family at all cost.

“He’s not going to angel I promise!” Nat says as she holds you tighter.

“He’ll have to get through all of us first sweet girl” Tony says as he comes in to the room, followed by the rest.

“When did she send you the messages Y/n/n?” Wanda questions.

Pulling away from Nat you looked down at your small bump “two weeks ago-I’m so sorry Natty”

“It’s okay, but why didn’t you tell me love?”

“I thought I could handle it myself, i didn’t reply to anything she said thinking she would just leave me alone but she won’t” You rub your eyes with the back of your hand, causing Nat to pull your hand away.

“You’re so tired aren’t you?” She watches as you nod, yawing at the same time “come, let’s get you into bed okay baby?”

“B-but his girlf-“

“I’ll deal with it, I promise. Now please sleep. I love you”.

“I love you too Natty” you mumble and as soon as your head hits the pillow, you’re in dreamland.

Nat kept her promise by dealing with your exes girlfriend, no more messages were sent to you and Adam didn’t try and take Pebbles away.

Giving birth to a healthy baby girl, Nat continued to keep her promise by sticking by you.

Alisa Pebbles Romanoff was truly spoilt by both of her mamas.

~ banner credit goes to @sweetpeapod ~

[catmiemy]

Another Chance to Live Part 5 (Ana Maria Crnogorčević x Reader)

Summary: Things between Ana and you are going great, sadly the same isn't true for other aspects of your life.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

A/N: One day early is still early, right? However the good news is that I almost finished editing the last part, so you should get that one at the beginning of next week. Although I might have to find a way to incorporate Ana's pink hair!

Happy reading! 😊

Things continued to flourish between Ana and you, and soon the two of you spent every possible minute together. Not that this was much of a change, you had more or less been doing that from the beginning. You still met up with other people too, you weren’t totally reclusive, but usually you did so together.

Somewhere in the back of your mind you started wondering if maybe moving in should be something that should be brought to the table sometime soon. What was the point of paying for two apartments when you were always together at one or the other?

However, you still weren’t confident enough to bring up something big like that on your own. Being with Ana, who constantly told and showed you how amazing she thought you were, had definitely helped bolster your confidence, but there were limits.

You were once again thinking about starting a conversation about moving in together while Ana and you were lying on your couch after a long day of training. The Swiss woman was in front of you, snuggled against your chest, your entangled hands resting on her stomach.

In the end you couldn’t go through with it though, just like always. You resigned yourself to wait for Ana to bring it up. Plus you didn’t want to complicate or possible even ruin a nice evening.

“I’m so glad I don’t have to go in tomorrow,” you sighed contently.

“Me too,” Ana agreed instantly, turning around to give you a soft kiss.

It went deeper than just the joy of having a day off for the both of you. Even after several months neither of you had really found your footing at your respective teams. At least it had gotten easier since you began talking about it together. It felt good to let out all of your emotions and complain about your situation without being scared to be judged for it.

It was in that moment that your phone buzzed and when you checked it you sighed again. This time out of unhappiness though. In an instant Ana sat up and turned around to you properly, a non nonsense expression on her face.

“Okay, what was that? This keeps happening, you checking your phone and then looking unhappy about it. Is someone bothering you? Mean comments? A stalker? Please talk to me,“ your girlfriend all but begged.

You hadn’t even realized that she had taken note of this happening. In your mind you had been subtle.

“It’s nothing really.“

Ana just raised her eyebrows, telling you with that one small gesture that she didn’t accept your answer. That she in fact thought this was something, something important even, if it was bothering you in any capacity.

“Just my parents, complaining I haven’t been around much lately,” you explained, not thinking much about it.

However, when Ana’s face fell and guilt spread across it, you recognized your mistake. Only now did you realize how this must have sounded to your girlfriend.

“Wait no, that came out wrong,” you scrambled to make this right, to put a smile back on your girlfriend’s face. You didn’t get far though before Ana interrupted you.

“Please don’t. You don’t have to lie, it’s fine. I’m sorry that I never thought about that. Now that I think about it, I realize that I have been monopolizing you a lot lately,” your girlfriend apologized, chuckling self-deprecating.

In that moment you hated yourself a little for making Ana doubt herself, for making her apologize for something that had made you so happy.

“No, no, no! Don’t apologize, tesoro, please. These last few months have been the best in my life and I’ve been so happy. And sure you’ve been monopolizing me, but only because I also wanted that. To be honest my parents aren’t the easiest,” you said, hoping that the Swiss woman could hear your sincerity.

You weren’t completely convinced that she did, still seeing some lingering doubt and guilt in her eyes, but the moment you uttered the last sentence, all of Ana’s focus shifted to that.

“Oh, I didn’t know. Do you want to talk about it?”Ana spotted your reluctance, so she continued, “You said yourself that talking about your emotions has been helpful.”

You rolled your eyes good-naturedly, leave it to the Swiss woman to beat you with your own words. She was right though. Still, this was different. This was definitely a case of you just being whiney and spoiled.

“Please?“ Your girlfriend pleaded and there was no way you could ever resist that face.

“Fine, but honestly it’s nothing bad at all, I’m just being ungrateful and apparently I love complaining about everything.”

You quickly moved on when you detected a fair amount of unhappiness about your words on your girlfriend’s face. She didn’t like it at all when you put yourself down. However, Ana also knew that you shouldn’t be stopped when you got into sharing mode, otherwise you would most likely withdraw again. Therefore the Swiss woman bit her lip and let you keep talking, vowing to bring this up again later.

“They just have a lot of expectations about who I should be and how a good daughter is supposed to act. Sometimes it feels like they don’t really care that much about me, but only about the person they want me to be. But that’s probably normal. I guess everyone has an image of how their kid will turn out. It just really sucks when you constantly feel like you’re not living up to the expectation.”

Once again Ana had to basically restrain herself from speaking her mind. This definitely wasn’t what she would describe as a normal relationship between parents and their kid. However, she sensed that you still had more to say, so she didn’t want to interrupt you.

“And the other thing is that it’s just me. You know I’m an only child, but also none of my aunts and uncles have children. Plus they all live here in Madrid too. So it’s just a whole lot of people from one generation against me. No wait, that sounds wrong, like we’re constantly fighting. We’re not, we just…” you trailed off, not even sure yourself what you were.

All you knew was that you never felt relaxed in the presence of your parents, aunts and uncles, that you always felt under scrutiny and every little thing you did or didn’t do was fair game for them to take apart and criticize viciously.

“But like I said, I shouldn’t be complaining. At least they care. I mean they’ve never missed a single one of my games,” you finished, happy with the way you managed to put a positive spin to this in the end.

Ana looked at you in confusion. “Really? I’ve never seen them at any of your games I’ve gone to,” she pointed out carefully.

“Oh yeah, I meant when I still played for Atlético. They’re all live long Atleti fans,” you clarified. “It was really hard for them when I had to transfer.”

Clearly the Swiss woman didn’t like this answer, her jaw was clenched tightly and anger burned in her eyes.

“That doesn’t sound very supportive! Honestly all of this doesn’t sound like a good family situation to me, but I know I personally can’t stand it if anyone other than me talks even remotely badly about my family, so I don’t want to overstep.”

You could tell that there was a lot more your girlfriend wanted to say and it was hard for her to hold her tongue. However, you appreciated that she did. You weren’t ready to get into a long conversation about this right now.

“I actually haven’t talked about my family to anyone before, so I don’t really know how I feel about that. But I also don’t really want to continue talking about them right now; I need some time to process first. Up until now I’ve been so convince that I was the problem and if I ever told anyone they would just laugh at me. I mean it’s not like they were ever abusive or anything.”

 In your mind you were still being overly dramatic and ridiculous, but the simple fact that Ana disagreed with that assessment, made you re-think your convictions.

“There is more than one way to hurt someone. And, Schatz, it’s clear as day that you’ve been hurt and people have severely damaged the image you have yourself.”

The gentle way in which Ana spoke to you, brought tears to your eyes. There is more than one way to hurt someone. You had never thought about it like this before.

“And it’s totally okay if you don’t feel up to talking about it right now. Just promise me that you won’t try to process everything all alone in your head! Talk to me once you’ve had some time to let it set, yeah?”

You smiled at that, your girlfriend really knew you too well. No, not too well, she knew you the perfect amount well. 

“I promise, I’ll try?” It came out more as a question than a statement. And in some way it was; a question if that offer was good enough. Of course you had no reason to worry.

“I guess I’ll take that. And in turn I promise that I will bother you about it again,” Ana retorted, winking at you.

You huffed in fake annoyance, but made sure to communicate that it was in fact exactly what you needed with a grateful smile and by closing the distance, that had been left between the two of you ever since your girlfriend had sat up.

Sharing your thoughts and feelings wasn’t something that came naturally to you, so you appreciated some gentle pushes. It made it easier to believe that Ana really wanted to hear what was going on inside your mess of a brain.

With this out of the way, you tugged on your girlfriend’s upper arm to get her back into your previous position. You wanted some more snuggles.

However, Ana didn’t follow your silent request, her body still a little tense and something clearly still on her mind. She was nibbling on her lips, having some sort of internal fight.

“What’s going on in that mind of yours?” You asked, placing a few kisses on your girlfriend’s shoulder. The soft contact made her relax visibly.

“Okay, so I’m just going to come out and say it, but I want you to know that there’s no pressure. And really it probably isn’t my place to bring this up. However, I also know that you tend to over think.”

“And you tend to ramble,” you quipped, hoping to soothe some of your girlfriend’s nervousness. It worked like a charm.

Ana chuckled, sounding much less stressed when she continued, “I’d be happy to come along to your parents whenever if you don’t want to miss out on any time together, but still want to go and see them.”

“Really? That would be amazing!” You replied. „And you were right; I never would have brought this up even though I have been thinking about it.”

One more time you pulled on Ana’s arms to get her to lay down with you again and this time your girlfriend relented without pause, snuggling into you.

“So should I tell them we’ll come over for lunch tomorrow and then we’ll say we are meeting friends at 3 or something, so we have a reason to leave,” you suggested.

Ana agreed easily, deciding to not ask why you felt the need to have other plans lined up, or well a lie prepared to be able to leave whenever you wanted. Without even meeting your family she already knew they were very different from her own. Also, you had asked for some time to figure stuff out, so she didn’t want to add another thing on top of it.

After your girlfriend had given her approval, you quickly texted your mother back, before putting your phone away and focusing on the moment instead. You gently stroked Ana’s arm, the rhythmic motion doing a lot to calm yourself down as well.

Normally this was the moment you would began to worry, think through every possible and impossible scenario that could occur the next day when Ana met your family, but with your girlfriend in your arms it was easy to put a stop to that and instead bask in the peaceful quietness.

  ---

However, the next day not even Ana’s usually almost magical presence did anything to help you relax. Seeing how nervous you were, your girlfriend insisted on driving, which left you with the job of giving directions. But with how preoccupied with your worries you were, you missed several turns.

“Schatz, do you just want to give me the address so I can put it into the GPS?” The Swiss woman proposed carefully, after you had gotten annoyed with yourself for missing a turn for the fifth time.

“No, no, it’s okay. I’m going to focus now. I’m sorry,” you apologized, trying to slow down the tornado of thoughts going round and round in your mind.

“Everything is going to be fine, just take a deep breath. We can always leave if you don’t feel comfortable.”

You only nodded tersely. It was sweet of Ana to try and calm you down, but she didn’t know your family like you did. You couldn’t just leave whenever you wanted, not if you didn’t want to risk a whole lot of guilt tripping and harsh words.

“Or we can just cancel?” Ana tried again, when she noticed her words had done absolutely nothing to soothe your nerves.

You chuckled humorlessly. That was even less of an option.

„No, it’s fine really. I’m just being dramatic again, don’t take me seriously.“

Ana frowned at your attempt to downplay things, but she decided to stop her futile attempts. She had to accept that words were not going to do anything for you right now. Instead she reached over and took your hand into hers, trying to communicate that no matter what happened she would be right there with you.

Although in reality that was part of the problem. By now you were seriously berating yourself for not thinking this through more. You had just decided one random evening to bring your girlfriend to your parents’ house, a first time occurrence since you had never been serious enough about someone before.

A little while later Ana parked the car in the spot you pointed out. And as soon as she didn’t need her hands to drive anymore, she reached over to awkwardly hug you over the center console. It helped to bring you back to your body from where you had been lost in your head.

“We can still leave,” you girlfriend offered, making sure you knew she was completely serious.

“No, it’s okay. Let’s just get this over with,” you sighed.

Only when you were walking towards your parents’ front door, did you remember to check in with Ana. You should have learnt from the past that just because the blonde often seemed so calm, didn’t mean that she always was.

You tugged on her hand to get her to stop, hoping your parents weren’t already keeping an eye out through the window for you.

“And how are you doing? I’m sorry I’ve been making this about me so much. Now that I think about it, I should probably be the one calming you down.”

“You don’t have to apologize, Schatz. Also, I can see that this is really hard for you, so I’m happy I can be there for you. And really I’m fine.”

Ana’s voice sounded sure and steady, but still you couldn’t accept that answer so easily.

“Look, I’m being completely honest, somehow it helps me stay calm when you’re anxious, like I have something else than my own thoughts and worries to focus on,” your girlfriend explained once she saw your doubtful face.

This you could believe, you felt the same when Ana was particularly stressed or emotional. You gave the blonde’s hand a good squeeze, not feeling comfortable enough to hug or even kiss her when your parents were possibly spying on you.

“Good, but tell me if things change, yeah? We can always leave if you want to.”

Ana nodded, touched at this offer. From what she could gather just leaving whenever you wanted wasn’t something you ever did, even if your family made you uncomfortable. So, the fact that you were willing to do so if Ana needed it meant a lot to her.

Walking to the front door you gave yourself an internal pep talk. Surely things wouldn’t be as bad as some of the scenarios circling through your mind. Your parents weren’t the easiest people, but they also weren’t bad or anything. Ana and you would spend a couple of hours with them and then leave again to enjoy the rest of your day off. You could do a few hours! That was nothing in the grand scheme of things.

Sadly, this time you were proven wrong. Things turned out to be as bad as you had pictured them. And it all started with the realization that not only your parents, but also all of your aunts and uncles were there.

Your first thought, once you noticed, was that you were now severely outnumbered. At this point you still had hope though and even chastised yourself for thinking about this in a ‘you versus them’ manner.

However, then it continued with your family basically treating Ana like she wasn’t there. They didn’t address her, they didn’t react to anything she said, they didn’t even look her way. It made you want to scream at your family, but when you glanced over at Ana to gauge how she was feeling, she smiled at you bravely, mouthing that she was fine and that you should stay calm.

You wondered if she was hoping things would turn around, that your family just needed a little time to adjust and warm up to her. Or maybe your girlfriend had already resigned herself to a few hours of suffering through the awkwardness because she didn’t want to do anything that might impact your relationship with your family. Both were very Ana things to do.

You reached the end of your patience though, when your mother started dropping passive aggressive remarks aimed at Ana. The second time she mentioned how heartbreaking it was when people just swooped in and ruined a family, without mentioning your girlfriend of course, but clearly talking about her, you jumped up from your chair.

“Can we talk in the kitchen?” You gritted out between your teeth, staring daggers at your mother.

She just looked at your father meaningfully, like she has done so often when you were a kid and were throwing a tantrum. You balled your fists in anger; you hated how easily they could make you feel like a child again. And not a happy, excited about life child, but a stupid, worthless child.

“What is it, niña?” Your mother asked you innocently when you entered the kitchen, making your blood boil even more. It felt like you were one wrong word away from having steam shoot out of your ears like in a cartoon.  

“You know exactly what I want to talk about,” you snapped.

Still feigning ignorance your mother looked at you in pretend confusion. “No, niña, I obviously don’t, otherwise I wouldn’t have asked. So can you just tell me, so we can go back. You’re being really rude right now.”

This was the final straw. You were going to tell your mother exactly what was wrong, in great detail and not quietly at all. However, before you got around to venting your anger, you heard a loud voice from the living room.

Without even sparing your mother a second glance, you rushed back there. The only thought on your mind was that you had to make sure Ana was okay. That was much more important than shouting at your mother, you could do that later.

The scene you walked into wasn’t pretty. Your uncle was standing, his face red and contorted into anger, while he was throwing a stream of angry words at your girlfriend. The rest of your family was nodding along in silent agreement.

Ana on the other hand was still seated, her hands balled into tights fist, just like yours had been seconds before, and her gaze fixed on the table. It made her look small and defeated, but one look at her stormy eyes was enough for you to recognize that she was actually doing her best to keep her temper in check. Despite everything she was still trying to keep peace, even if your family had been nothing but horrible towards her. It filled you with so much anger and disappointment.

You caught the last few words your uncle was yelling, before he snapped his mouth shut, the moment he noticed you. Clearly you weren’t supposed to hear this.

“Isn’t it enough that you stole my niece’s place in our team?! Now you’re also taking her away from us! But I’ll tell you right now, you will never be a part of this family!”

Anger was roaring through you at this point. So when you opened your mouth to defend your girlfriend, you didn’t hold back anything.

“No, let me tell you something! Right now I’m ashamed to call any of you my family. This is how you treat my partner, the woman I love? She isn’t taking me away from you, I just finally feel happy and accepted exactly the way that I am. And she definitely didn’t take away my spot at Atleti, we don’t even play the same position!”

With that you marched over to your girlfriend and took her hand to pull her up. Ana followed your guidance without resistance, holding on to your hand tightly.

“Come on, tesoro, we’re leaving,” you told her quietly.

“Wait what? You can’t do that, we’re your family,” your mother cried out.

You shrugged your shoulders. “Just because you’re my family doesn’t mean you can do whatever you want and I have to put up with it.”

And without listening to anything else you walked out of the front door, the warmth of Ana’s hand in yours giving you the courage to do so. In the past you would have given in to your mother’s pleading, you would have been intimidated by your father’s anger, but not this time. You had learnt that you deserved better, thanks to your girlfriend.

Swiftly you guided Ana to the passenger side, before getting into the driver seat yourself and pulling away in a hurry. You didn’t want to risk your family coming out to try and talk with you again. Your confidence was only so strong; you didn’t need to put it to any more tests.

You didn’t drive all the way home though; instead you found a quiet place to park. It was important to you to check in with Ana as soon as possible. After all, you were used to your family, but she wasn’t.

“Are you okay?” You both asked each other at the same time. It made you chuckle which diffused some of the loaded atmosphere in the car.

“You first,” you pleaded. You needed to know right now how your girlfriend was feeling.

Ana stayed silent for a moment, mulling her answer over. It had been a lot to take in and she wasn’t completely sure yet how she felt.

“I’m a bit overwhelmed I guess. You warned me about your family, but I didn’t expect this.”

“Honestly I didn’t either and I’m so so sorry for it,” you apologized, harshly rubbing away the tears filling your eyes.

Ana gently caught your hands and brought them to rest on her knees instead.

“Schatz, you have nothing to apologize for. Your family’s actions aren’t your fault, not ever!”

You took some deep breaths to avoid breaking down into tears completely, there was still so much more you wanted to say.

“I’m still sorry and I hope you know that I don’t share their beliefs at all.”

Your girlfriend looked at you searchingly. “Not even about me taking your spot a Atleti?” She asked quietly.

“No, of course not! Why would you ever think that? Wait, has anyone else said anything like that to you?”

How long had your girlfriend been worried about that? It had never even crossed your mind, so you had never thought to talk about it with her. But maybe she had been feeling like she had taken something from you all along.

“No, no, no one said anything. I just thought…I mean with the timing…So you really don’t feel like that?”

The hope in Ana’s voice hurt your heart. Now you knew without the shadow of a doubt that she had indeed been worrying about that, probably been feeling guilty since she met you, for absolutely no reason.

“Oh my gosh, no! I really never thought about it like that. Like I said we play on completely different positions. Plus I’m pretty sure that the decision to let me go was made weeks before Atleti ever signed you.”

Tears of relief began trickling down Ana’s cheek. She had been holding this inside for so long and now she finally had confirmation that she had worried needlessly. You gently wiped the tears away with your thumb, a complete antithesis to how unkindly you had gotten rid of your own tears.

“I wish you were as gentle with yourself as you are with me,” your girlfriend whispered, leaning into your soft touch, letting her eyes flutter shut for a moment.

You bit the inside of your cheek, frowning. “I’m working on it,” you offered.

“I know you are, Schatz. Now please tell me, how are you feeling?”

Ana fixed you with a serious gaze, making it clear that you weren’t going to satisfy her with any sort of generic reply. Therefore, just like she had done, you took a moment to tune into your feelings and gather your thoughts.

“Angry, disappointed, sad, guilty but mostly angry,” you listed, “I can’t believe they treated you like this!”

Just thinking about it made you mad all over again. How dare they! And sure maybe you were biased, thinking Ana was the most amazing person in the world. But then again you had yet to meet anyone that didn’t like the kind-hearted Swiss woman, so you weren’t alone in your assessment.

“You want to know the funny thing about all of this?” Your girlfriend asked.

Somehow you doubted that there was anything funny about this entire situation, still you motioned for Ana to continue. You were more than happy to get out of talking about yourself more.

“The thing that really makes me angry? The way they treated you and apparently have always treated you! I don’t care that much about what they said to me or how they ignored me, especially now that we cleared up the whole Atleti thing, but the way they treat you? Let’s just say I was very close to punching someone.”

Ana’s voice shook with anger, and suddenly you were glad you were the one sitting behind the wheel. Otherwise you wouldn’t have put it past her to turn around to actually give your family a piece of her mind. And as satisfying as that would be, you didn’t want to complicate this entire mess even more.

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t. They probably would have pressed charges and I don’t want you to get into trouble because of me.”

Your girlfriend shook your head vehemently. “Because of them”, she corrected.

“Fine, because of them,” you relented, “But the most important thing is that it didn’t happen and you won’t have to deal with any legal matters.”

Once again Ana shook hed head, “No, the most important thing is that you recognize that you’re not responsible for your family’s actions.”

You swallowed a couple of times, trying to get rid of the lump that had formed in your throat. It continued to overwhelm you how much your girlfriend cared for you, how important it was to her that you healed from every bad thing that had ever happened to you.

“I’m going to work on that too,” you promised.

“And I’ll be right here by your side, helping you,” Ana vowed.

That was something you were never going to say no to. Everything seemed much less daunting with your girlfriend by your side. It was nice to know you had someone in your corner, and not just someone that pretended to be there for you, as long as you stayed in the corner they wanted you to be in.

“How about we go back to my place now and have a cozy afternoon after all of this craziness?” Your girlfriend suggested.

It was precisely what you wanted to do, still you couldn’t agree right away. Instead you chewed some more on the inside of your cheek, stuck in indecision.

“Or maybe I should go back and clear everything up right now?”

“It that what you want to do? If so, then definitely do it,“ Ana responded.

You didn’t even have to give it a single thought to come to the conclusion that it wasn’t what you wanted at all, but it was what you thought you should do.

Your silence was enough of an answer for Ana and somehow she guessed very accurately where your mind was at, “I get that you feel like you should figure this out right away. But, Schatz, I don’t think it’s something that will be easily resolved in an afternoon. So, I really think that putting it to rest for a little bit might be best. Or if you just want some time alone, I also totally understand that.”

“No!” You jumped in, “That’s the last thing I want. What I really want is to go home with you, have a nice cuddle session before cooking dinner together. But I just feel like I should try again. Am I a bad daughter if I don’t?”

You knew what you parents’ answer to that question would be. They had been telling you all your life that you were a bad daughter when you couldn’t meet their needs and obviously their need right now was for you to come and make things right.

However, Ana had slowly started to change the way you thought about yourself and your family, so you were curious what she had to say.

“Absolutely not! If my parents ever did something like that, I would expect them to come to me and beg for my forgiveness.”

“Except they never would do something like that in the first place,” you added the part your girlfriend had so graciously omitted in a vain attempt to spare your feelings.

“True. So can I take you home now and shower you with love?” Ana pleaded, unleashing her secret weapon on you, her pout.

“You know there’s no way I can say no when you look at me like that,” you groaned.

“Good,” Ana replied with a satisfied smile. “Do you want so switch so I can drive?”

You nodded, feeling too jittery to safely drive anything more than a few blocks. Ana and you both got out of the car and when you met in the middle, your girlfriend pulled you into a hug, swaying you softly from side to side.

“Just a little teaser for all the cuddles to come,” Ana joked after she let go of you.

You smiled at her brightly, glad that you had made the decision to go with what you wanted, instead of doing what you thought you should do. Going home to snuggle with your wonderful girlfriend sounded so much better than going back and dealing with you very frustrating family.

---

The next few days Ana was extra affectionate with you. To be honest it was surprising she could even step up her affection game since she was already very affectionate to begin with. However, you appreciated it and it helped soothe the fresh wounds your family had inflicted.

You got a lot of messages from them, although not a single one contained any sort of apology. There were a lot of, sadly very successful, attempts to make you feel guilty, and if it weren’t for Ana, you would have felt like the world’s worst daughter.

A little over a week after the initial fight you felt ready to try and sort everything out with your family. Ana offered to go with you, but you decided against it. Your girlfriend being there and potentially being disrespected again would only make you more emotional. And the one thing you needed was to keep your composure, if you wanted any chance at having a calm conversation about this.

In the end it didn’t matter though. Within minutes the conversation turned into a shouting match that resulted in you storming out of your parents’ house once again. You rushed home to fall into the waiting arms of your girlfriend.

“I just want this to be resolved,” you whined after the worst of your sobs had died down, “But there’s nothing I can do if they don’t even realize what the problem is. And I hate that so much! I hate not being able to do anything!”

Ana rubbed soothing circles on your back, humming in agreement. She very much felt the same; she hated that there was nothing she could do to make this all better for you right this moment. Having to accept that something sucked and you could do nothing to change it, was a bitter pill to swallow.

You cried for a long time that evening, and you cried a lot more in the next few weeks. Then slowly you began to accept this reality, resigning yourself to having no contact with your family for the moment. You only reached out once more, sending them a text with your thoughts and explaining that you wouldn’t come around anymore until there was a clear signal from their side, that they were prepared to work on themselves.

After that you ignored every other message they sent, even debating if you should block all of your family members, but you weren’t ready to go that far yet. They were still your family! Plus you had left the door open an inch, for the unlikely scenario that they wanted to work everything out, so you had to at least glance at their texts.

Ana wasn’t too happy with that decision because every message made you sad and worried that you were being selfish all over again. She even offered to read the messages for you, but seeing your girlfriend get upset on your behalf was even worse than reading the harsh words yourself.

Therefore every time you got one, you quickly scanned it, getting disappointed each and every time, and then deleted the message. Unfortunately getting rid of the words wasn’t as easy as getting rid of the texts; they played on a loop in your mind.

We did so much for you and now you just turn your back on us?

You’ll come running back to us, as soon as she dumps you!

How can you do this to us? Your mother can barely eat because she’s so upset.

We didn’t raise you to be so stupid and blind. I can’t believe you’re letting her manipulate you like this.

Why are you being so dramatic about a few words?

It all fell apart completely at the game between Real and Atlético. You had been dreading that match for a long time. Not only would you be playing against your girlfriend, but also against your former club.

Ana and you had talked about it beforehand and promised each other that there would be no hard feelings, no matter what team won. You were pretty confident that the two of you would be able to follow through on that promise, but the anxious part of you still fretted about it.

However, once you entered the pitch for warm up you were slapped in the face by a harsh surprise, making every other worry seem obsolete. Your entire family was there, clad in Atleti’s colors and loudly supporting your former team.

It wouldn’t have hurt quite so much if they would have been at any other Atlético game this season, but they hadn’t. So the only reason why they were doing this now, was to upset you.

And they succeeded. Forgetting all professionalism you turned around and ran back into the tunnels, chocking on the tears you were holding back until no one could see you anymore. You heard a few confused voices calling after you, but you couldn’t explain right now, you couldn’t talk.

You found a quiet corner where you slid down the wall and buried your face in your hands, your knees pulled closely to your chest. Your entire focus went to keeping your breath as normal as possible to avoid spiraling into a full blown panic attack. Therefore you didn’t even notice someone coming up to you until that person sat down next to you and gently pulled you against their side.

For a moment you went stiff, uncomfortable with the sudden closeness. But then you smelled Ana’s coconut shampoo and allowed yourself to melt into you girlfriend.

“Wait, you shouldn’t be here,” you exclaimed once Ana’s calming power had helped you feel less overwhelmed and think more clearly again.

“Of course I should be here, you’re my girlfriend. No way was I not going to check on you after that stunt they pulled,” Ana replied harshly, softening her tone when she noticed you tensing up, “You’re much more important than any possible repercussions this could have, Schatz.”

“I just want to go home,” you mumbled, hating how much you sounded like a little kid.

“You can if you want to. I’m sure your coach would understand and if not I’ll beat them up. I could even go with you! Or I can go out there, grab your family and throw them out of the stadium. I’d happily do that.”

The mental image of your girlfriend literally throwing your family out made you chuckle. Although you had no doubt that she would actually do it if you asked her to.

“Or you go out there, completely ignore your parents and play an amazing game. And afterwards we’ll go home and I’ll hold you all night long.”

You stayed safely tucked away in Ana’s arms for a little while longer, before extracting yourself with a sigh. There was only one option you could live with, even if it was the one that meant suffering for the next few hours.

Ana studied you with pain in her eyes. You didn’t need to lay out for her what you wanted to do, she knew without a single word. And while she understood, she also longed to take you home, far away from the harshness of real life.

“If you change your mind at any point, let me know, yeah?” Your girlfriend requested.

“And then what? We run away together in the middle of the game?” you joked, but Ana didn’t react to your attempt at humor, instead she nodded seriously

“Yes,” she confirmed.

You swallowed, fresh tears pricking in your eyes because of your girlfriend’s willingness to do an absolutely crazy thing, if it was what you needed. And just that knowledge was a huge help in getting through the game.

Not once did you look over at your family, telling yourself they weren’t there. Still, you knew, and it hurt. It felt like something had been stuck right through your heart, twisting and turning with every movement, inflicting pain over and over again.

You didn’t let it show, though.  There wasn’t a lot you could control when it came to your family, but you could at least decide how much or how little of your feelings they got to see. And they didn’t deserve to see any of them.

Because while you always felt horrible when you knew that you were the reason someone was hurting, you had to assume your family didn’t feel the same; that they might even get some satisfaction from knowing they upset you. Otherwise why would they have done this?

Throughout the entire game you functioned on autopilot, and you continued to do so until hours later when you stumbled into your girlfriend’s apartment. You had asked to go there instead of yours because absolutely nothing at Ana’s place reminded you of your family.

The moment you stepped through the front door, tears began running down your cheeks. Ana had been expecting this and pulled you towards her couch, cocooning you in her arms. She didn’t even attempt to say anything to make you feel better; there really wasn’t much she could say. She just let you get it all out.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Your girlfriend asked softly, after your tears had stopped and your breathing had been much more even for a while.

You shook your head, not trusting your voice to function right now. Not having to rely on words to communicate was one of your favorite things about your relationship with Ana.

“Okay, I’ll be here to listen whenever you feel ready,” Ana reminded you. “How about we block their numbers now?”

Again you shook your head and you could tell that your girlfriend didn’t agree with this decision, but she kept her tongue. She watched you like a hawk when you sat up and grabbed your phone.

“What are you doing?”

Ana did her best to keep her tone neutral, but internally she was anything but. She was of course curious, but mostly your girlfriend was worried that you had already convinced yourself again that this was somehow all your fault and were going to apologize to your family.

You simply showed Ana your phone, erasing all of her fears and replacing them with satisfaction and heartbreak. You had typed out a message to your family, stating that you would block them, and expected them to leave you alone until you were ready to talk with them again.

After you pressed sent, quickly so you couldn’t second guess yourself, you handed your phone to Ana.

“Now you can block them,” you instructed her, snuggling into your girlfriend again.

It didn’t necessarily feel good to cut all contact with your family for the moment, but it definitely felt right. However, lying all night long in your girlfriend’s arm definitely felt good, so much better than having another argument with your family that somehow always refused to see your side of things.

And being told that you were loved and that Ana was so proud of you, was also much better than being called childish, dramatic, ungrateful and whatever else your family came up with. Still, was it too much to ask to have a wonderful girlfriend and a loving family?

[adrinktostopyourthirst]

dear sweet m if you end up writing about bucky with a vibrating arm can i pretty please be tagged?? (i don’t know if you do taglists, i couldn’t find anything that indicated either way, totally fine if not!)

Ah yes, Bucky and his vibrating arm. I’ve been hinting at it for ages. And you’d be surprised to find out…

There is no reason for the Wakandans to give the arm some extra functions. So any other vibrations than the mild ones from the inside mechanics were unnecessary. But as we’ve seen from Bucky ever since the 1940’s, he’s quite fascinated by technology himself. Also quite skilled with that brain of his. And as mentioned a while ago, this man has the sexual curiosity of a teenage boy – especially after everything that has happened to him.

So it took him some time to perfect using tools with just one hand, but he has managed to add in some extra functions to his arm. Peeling away at the vibranium carefully and programming some new things into the limb. Some things functioning as an element of surprise in battle, yes, but some functioning as an element of surprise in bed.

The first time he tried it on himself, he had taken a few deep breaths before activating it, squeezing his cock in his metal fist and supressing a low grunt. He had already been so close and had been edging himself for a while. He’d been throbbing and the artificial nerves in his metal arm could feel the steady thump of his heartbeat pulsing through his cock. How had he gotten so nervous doing this all of a sudden? It was a lot, but God, he’d needed to come! It had been unbearable, the need for release. Almost as unbearable as the thought of finishing it the way he normally would.

So he had turned on the added function, the vibrations rising carefully to a steady buzz the way he had programmed it, and the noise that sprang from his mouth had been borderline pornographic.

And he couldn’t stop. Moaning and whimpering as his palm vibrated against the hilt of his cock, he had barely managed to squeeze and pull his hand up to the aching tip of himself. Definitely hadn’t managed more than two pulls before he had spilled months of pent up frustration onto his toned chest with a helpless cry as the vibrations dimmed and he pulled himself through his vision-blackening orgasm.

And as much as he loved using the hidden feature, he hadn’t yet used it on a bed partner. It felt too intimate, too controlling for some reason. Until you, of course.

Because yes, Bucky has a kink for corruption and even though he knows there’s little left of you to corrupt, the small nudges out of your comfort zone felt like drugs to him. The man loves to be on his knees for you, worship the ground you walk on, but there are few things better than getting you to submit to him. Even fewer than ruining the sheets below you while he is still dressed.

And tonight, you looked beautiful. Sinful in the classiest way. He’d suffered through wearing a tuxedo to the party, as long as you felt confident next to him. And in turn, he felt powerful next to you. It was one of those moments where Bucky’s heart swelled three sizes because he realised that you both make each other want to be better. In the big things, but also the small things like tonight. Looking good, charming people, bragging about each other and hyping up one another. He was in cloud nine and it was about time he paid you back for it.

You are already breathing heavily, draped on your shared bed with your dress discarded and your heels still on. Your hair messy and makeup smudged slightly. Your skin is throbbing and flushed and the ache between your legs is nearly numbing. You stare up at the ceiling lazily, coming down from another Bucky-induced high as he prowls around the bed and watches you – jacket discarded and the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up to his elbows.

“I’ll never get enough of making you come, you know,” he says before he once again climbs over you. Kisses are pressed to your belly, your breasts, your neck. You almost purr at the feeling. “And I will always look for new ways to get it done. New ways to make you feel better.”

You want to tell him you already feel great, fight him on it, tell him there is nothing he needs to compensate for. But you’re so dazed and selfishly, you love it when he talks to you like this. It makes goosebumps prickle over your skin. And Bucky laughs softly at the sight, teasingly trailing fingers up your damp inner thighs. You shudder at the touch.

He continues, “But tonight… Shit. You looked so beautiful. So tempting. I want to use all of my ways on you. I want to make you come and moan and scream until you are nothing but a puddle of sweat and tears and come.” You whine softly at his words and drape your hands over his neck, urging him closer. He breathes onto your lips, “I want it all from you. Forever. Give me everything, baby. I know you can–”

The surge of vibrations against you cunt is so much, you gasp for air and freeze all the same. You try to snap your legs shut, but Bucky’s body is keeping you from it. You open your mouth to say something, but everything has left you. Thoughts, words, willpower – it’s all gone. Your body tightens and loosens, pleasure unfurling throughout it like light in a glowstick.

Involuntarily, your hips buck and grind against his hand and the sounds that escape you are torturous. You feel Bucky’s smirk burning over your skin and you only barely manage to look down.

You’ve used toys before, but these vibrations… It feels like the toy is made for you, rolling over every single nerve of your clit so precisely it feels out of this world.

And as you look down, Bucky’s gaze follows, and you see three of his metal fingers rolling over your clit. You let out a moan at the sight – a sound Bucky answers with a deep groan of his own. Nothing will boost his confidence more than your responses to him. Especially when he knows there is no room left in your brain to overthink the responses. These are purely natural. Needy and appreciative.

The two of you look at his hand in trance, breaths and moans fanning over Bucky’s cheek. And then he slips two fingers into your soaked core, curling them up against your swollen walls and the both of you let out a carnal groan, your hands clutching him tighter.

Oh shit, oh shit…

“B-Bucky,” you gasp and he presses a kiss to your temple in answer. You sigh and close your eyes, sinking into the sheets as he pushes and pushes against the growing bubble in your belly. Rolling a vibrating thumb over your clit and pushing vibrating fingers against your deepest spot.

“Give it to me,” he murmurs, but he sounds rushed. Impatient. Like there is nothing in the world he wants more than to have you fall apart for him. Nothing more than feeling you squeeze around him again. He watches it build. Something big, something neither of you can come back from. He watches you nearly vibrate yourself with pleasure as the pleasure builds, and builds, and builds–

And when you burst, Bucky watches you lose yourself entirely to him. More importantly, only three fingers from him. And he wonders how you would look and sound if you lost yourself to him entirely. In love, in pleasure, in need, in life–  

Aaaand he wonders if he could do this in public.

[ladykailitha]

Sweet Home Indiana Part 8

I have finished the story (at long last! sheesh I can't believe how long this took me to get it done) and it has 10 chapters. And it has the happiest of endings. I couldn't stop smiling the whole time I was writing it.

Things appear hopeless, but Eddie and Chrissy start to find allies in their plight.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

****

Eddie woke up the next morning to a pounding head, an aching heart and signed divorce papers.

Of the three things the divorce papers were the worst.

So he did the only thing he could do in that moment, call Chrissy.

“Eddie!” she greeted. “I kinda expected a call before today. You know, being your fianceé and all.”

“Shit, Chris!” he murmured. “Is there someone there?”

She hummed her response.

“It been so hectic around here,” Eddie admitted. “And there was the fact that Steve wouldn’t give me a divorce.”

She sighed and he suddenly realized who was with her. “Come out here, tell them that we decided to have the wedding out here in Hawkins because that’s where all my family is. See if you can’t get an extension to plan the wedding.”

“Hold on, cher,” she murmured and put her hand over the speaker. He could hear her clearly but anything he said would be muffled.

Eddie stared down at the papers in his hand with a shattered heart. He could grieve once Chrissy’s dragon was slain.

A minute or so later she came back on.

“Okay, they’ve given me to the end of the month,” she said with a sigh of relief. “Just say the word and I’ll be down there in a flash.”

Eddie waited another moment or two before he said, “Are you alone now?”

Chrissy muttered, “One moment.” He heard the ding of the elevator door open and the sounds of a busy reception hall, then the sounds of a busy street.

She called for a taxi and once the door was closed behind her, she said, “All right, babe, what’s the problem.”

He opened his mouth to tell her but he just broke down.

“I–I thought I was happy in Seattle, but I’ve never felt more alive since coming back here. Seeing old friends, cruising familiar streets. It feels like home. When I first left I didn’t think there was anything in that town that would make me happy.” He let out a shuddering breath and ran his fingers through his hair. “I–I knew that the kids would all leave and they have. But Wayne is still here. Steve and Robin, too. The town has gotten softer. Something I never thought possible. I saw three same sex couples just vibing.”

He choked back a sob. “I thought everything I ever wanted was in Seattle and this trip was just about closing the doors that I left hanging open. Bu–but, oh god!” He threw his head back and covered his eyes. His lips quivered as the pain in his heart spread out through his chest. “Steve is still the one. I know, I know. I talk a lot of shit about love and there not being one person out there who’s your soulmate. but God, Chrissy. He’s it. I felt more myself the last three days then have the last five years.”

He let out another choking sob. “I don’t know what to do. He is like that first ray of sunlight after weeks of storms.”

“Oh, Eddie...” she cried.

“He signed the papers,” Eddie murmured. “And now I wish he hadn’t. I want to just tear up the papers and set fire to them. But I can’t do that to you. I won’t.”

“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry. Tell me what I can do and I’ll do it.”

He just sobbed and sobbed, forcing through the words that would tell her what he needed.

“Let me make a couple of phone calls, okay?” Chrissy said before hanging up.

Eddie murmured his thanks and then let her go. His brain went on autopilot and found himself on the pavement in front of the post office.

He stared at the mailbox in front of him in abject horror.

He had put the divorce papers in the mail and didn’t sign them himself.

****

Chrissy sighed. It was hard on Eddie she knew. He had spent the last decade running from himself and now he was face to face with the best parts of his past, not understanding why it felt so good.

She opened the file on Eddie’s divorce, the annulments had gone through just fine. It was just that one marriage.

She found what she was looking for and dialed the number.

“Sweetie’s Treats,” the female voice said in a faux cheerful customer service voice. “This is Robin what I can I get for you today?”

Chrissy took a deep breath and let out slow. “Hey, I’m Chrissy Cunningham, Eddie’s fianceé. I sorry, but I really need to talk to Steve.”

“Yeah...” Robin said. “No can do.”

Chrissy rubbed her her temple in frustration. “Eddie called me this morning in a hell of state and I just want to talk to Steve. It’s not anything bad, I guess I want to meet the person who has Eddie’s heart.”

“Yeah, I get that,” Robin said, “you can’t talk to him right now because he is working with the large stand mixer.”

Chrissy immediately pictured a KitchenAid mixer and huffed out her frustration. “Can’t he step away from it for a moment?”

“Sorry, no can do,” Robin said tersely. “He’s pouring in the sugar and has to put it in at specific intervals.”

Her temper was fraying with every passing moment with this woman. “Can I call his cellphone and you can hold it up to his ear?”

There was a bark of laughter. “That would also be a no. That thing has eaten three cellphones already and I’m not about to feed the beast another thanks.”

Chrissy blinked for a moment. “Just how big is this mixer anyway?”

This time the laughter was less bitter and more genuine.

“The size of a fifty gallon drum.”

“Oh!”

Robin cackled. “Yeah, when you have to make two hundred cookies, you aren’t going to be using a little electric hand mixer.”

“What kind of cookies?” she asked before she realized what was coming out of her mouth.

“Snickerdoodles,” she said, her grin evident even through the phone.

Chrissy shook her head. She was on a mission, damn it. She wouldn’t let let herself be distracted by baked goods!

“Okay,” she said, shoring herself up for a battle. “How about I talk to you and tell him what I said?”

“Sure,” Robin said. “I wouldn’t mind getting to know the girl who was the cause of Eddie’s bi awakening.”

Chrissy licked her lips slowly. “So about that...”

There was silence on the line long enough that she pulled the phone away to make sure the call was still connected.

“Are you his beard?” came the quiet reply. “Is this a lavender wedding?”

A little bell went off above Chrissy head. Oh. Maybe this wasn’t as hopeless as she thought.

“Yes,” she said, biting the bullet. “But not in the way you think.”

She could almost picture the head tilt of the bird on the other end of the line when Robin said, “Oh? Do tell.”

“Give me a second,” Chrissy said. “My taxi just pulled up to my apartment and I need to pay the driver.”

“Sure.”

Chrissy paid the man and hurried up to the stairs to her apartment, she fitted her keys into the lock and tossed her purse and keys on the table next to the door.

“So here’s the sitch,” she said flopping on her sofa with a heavy sigh.

****

Eddie opened the little door on the front with wide eyes. The door prevented people from sticking his hand in and grabbing it. He grabbed his hair.

“Fuck, fuck!” he cried. This day kept getting worse and worse. He opened the door again, hoping he could see a way to disable it.

He probably could, given the right tool. But as he was looking a little too closely another person walked by and eyed him suspiciously.

“Shit!” He looked down at himself and let loose a string of more colorful curse words.

Eddie looked like he was about to knock off the mailbox and make off with several felonies worth of someone else’s mail.

He was going to start crying again. He gripped his hair tightly as he paced back and forth.

He felt a hand on his elbow and he wasn’t be ashamed to say that the shriek that came out of him was the most emasculating sound in existence.

“Eddie,” Jonathan said. “Shit! I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Once Eddie had landed back on his feet like the scaredy-cat he was, he whirled around to see the oldest Byers boy looking at him with such concern.

“Hey, Johnny,” he breathed. “I’m sorry. God, today is the worst.”

Jonathan huffed a laugh. “You know, you are the only one I’ve ever met who doesn’t call me Jonathan.”

Eddie blushed. “I call everyone nicknames. I can stop if you want.”

Jonathan shook his head. “It was an observation, not a criticism.”

“Someone’s been hanging out with Nancy Wheeler a little too much,” Eddie huffed, already feeling better in the quiet presence of this man.

Jonathan threw his head back and laughed. “I hope so, we’re getting married next year.”

Eddie snapped his fingers. “That’s right. You did tell me that. Shit, man it feels like a life time ago.”

“You still love Steve, don’t you?” he said gently.

Eddie opened his mouth to deny it, but snapped it shut. He waved his hand at the mailbox. “It doesn’t matter. He signed the divorce papers, but my dumbass forgot to sign them too. So I need to get them back, but I don’t how.”

Jonathan smiled and then held up one finger. He went into the post office and five minutes later came out with his mom who carried the biggest key chain he’d ever seen.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Joyce greeted softly. “Let’s get this back for you.”

Eddie told her what it looked like and who it was addressed to.

After a little bit of searching, she turned around with the manilla envelope and handed it back to him.

“Next time,” she said with a smile. “Just come in and ask and we’ll be happy to grab it for you.”

Eddie nodded, clutching it to his chest and thanking her profusely. He took Jonathan out to lunch for the rescue.

They took it and sat on a park bench away from everyone else.

“Thanks for the gallant rescue, man,” Eddie said around his bite of his sandwich. “I was going to have a full blown breakdown right there on Hawkins Main and it wouldn’t have been pretty.”

“It’s no problem,” Jonathan said. “I’m glad it worked out.” He nodded to the papers on the table between them. “You going to sign them?”

Eddie let out a long sigh. “I have to.”

“You keep saying that,” he huffed. “But I don’t think you do. Shit, Eddie. I saw you and him at the carnival and it was like time travel. Like I was transported back a decade when you were both happy and free. He had his face buried in those stuff animals you’d won for him and you looked at him like he’d hung the moon.”

Eddie shook his head. “Look, you can’t tell anyone about this. It’s technically a crime. But it’s the only choice we have. Chrissy was here on a school visa from Barbados and she usually gets a work visa for the summer. Only there was a mix up and she didn’t get her work visa and her school visa is for while she’s at school. Which considering it was only for three months, I figured as long as she didn’t say anything to anyone, she could skate on through.”

“I’m guessing that’s not what happened?” Jonathan pressed. He took a bite of sandwich and nudged Eddie to eat.

Eddie took another bite, but really didn’t taste it. He choked it down around the bile in his throat. He shook his head.

“She works at a law firm,” he said mournfully. “Their HR department found out pretty much immediately. They, of course, alerted Immigration and was told to find another way to get a visa or be sent back to Barbados.”

“Hence getting the married?” Jonathan suggested.

He nodded. “We can’t let anyone know, because then we could get into trouble for fraud or whatever. I do love her, but not like that. Not like Steve.”

Jonathan huffed a laugh. He was silent for a moment and then shook his head sadly. “He went up to Seattle, you know.”

Eddie’s head snapped up. “What? When?”

“Right after you settled up there and started tattooing,” Jonathan said, scratching his chin thoughtfully. “He was there for a week. I think he went up there to ask you to come home. But when he found you, he also found a large city and a friendly LGBTQ community and he just couldn’t bare to ask you to return to homophobic Hawkins.”

Eddie’s lip quivered. He hadn’t known. His head spun as his world tilted off its axis.

“When he came back, he couldn’t really tell Robin the truth,” Jonathan continued. “That he couldn’t get up the courage to even see you closer than through the windows of the shop. So he told her he couldn’t find you and then vowed to make something of himself. Something you could be proud of.”

Tears slipped down Eddie’s cheeks and he pressed his hand to his mouth to keep the whimper that tried to escape between his teeth.

“The bakery...” he murmured.

Jonathan nodded. “Him and Robin starting working there together like they always do, to help save up for her to go to college.”

Eddie smiled, a weak, wet, little thing, but it was there. Steve and Robin, two peas in a pod. They always worked together since the summer after Steve graduated and Robin was about to start her senior year. They had worked at an ice cream parlor in the mall. When it burned down just a couple of months later due to shoddy workmanship, they had forged a friendship in literal fire.

“They weren’t intending to make it a permanent thing,” Jonathan continued, breaking into his thoughts. “But Steve’s good. He took a shop that only barely keeping itself in the black and made it into the thriving thing you see today.”

Eddie nodded. He was proud of Steve. And Robin. And all the things they managed to succeed in doing.

Jonathan hugged him tightly. “I won’t say to stay here with Steve and leave your financée to her fate, because that would be cruel and for all your faults, man, you aren’t cruel. And neither am I.”

Eddie let out a shuddering breath. And then another.

“You’ll do the right thing,” Jonathan said. “You might not figure it out right away, but somehow you always manage to get to the right thing in the end.”

Eddie finished his sandwich and thanked him for everything. Just being there when he needed someone.

And as he drove away from the park he felt lighter than he had in years.

****

I realize that that's probably not how visas work, but I'm just gonna hand wave that away for the drama.

Tag List: SIX SLOTS OPEN

Part 9 Part 10

1- @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @ravenfrog @zerokrox-blog

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @goodolefashionedloverboi

3- @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @irregular-child @mac-attack19

4- @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1

5- @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt

6- @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95

7- @blackpanzy @amazing-spiderkeys @oldpinghai @raisedbylibrarians @kultiras

8- @swimmingbirdrunningrock @steddie-as-they-go @captain--low @micheledawn1975 @thespaceantwhowrites

9- @blondie1006 @stripey82 @w1ll0wtr33 @mcenziehughes

[whatsk-poppinhomies]

Pairing : Idol!Seo Changbin x F!Reader TW : small car accident ; Changbin is momentarily insensitive ; angsty ; but also fluffy at the end ; Word Count : 3.2k Request : @kurolils : i'm not gonna be so specific, my delulu a*s has just been craving angst so much with changbin (my bias) or with lee know (tbh, your lee know imagine kinda calmed that craving), so you can just choose the plot, be free, just please with some fluff... cuz my fragile heart can't take too much 🥺. A/N : I FINALLY GOT TO THE REQUEST! I DIDN'T FORGET ABOUT IT, I'VE JUST BEEN FRAZZLED!! YOU SENT IT IN ABOUT 3 MONTHS AGO AND I HOPE YOU ENJOY IT!! Also, the I found the gif on this blog!!

“You’re gonna be there, right? You’re coming?” Changbin asked as he grabbed his keys off the hook, his eyes wide and his bottom lip already slightly jutting out as he looked at you. It was the same thing every time he had a comeback show, and you gave him the same answer every time he asked the question. 

“I’m gonna be there, Binnie.” You reassured him, leaning against with your arms crossed in front of your chest. He was so cute when he was like this, and truth be told, it felt nice to know that he wanted you there, he always wanted you there. “I wouldn’t miss it for anything, plus, when was the last time I’ve missed one of your comeback shows? Hmm?” 

He hummed softly as he thought for a moment, and then, as if a lightbulb went off above his head, his finger began waving in your direction. “The second comeback show during Maxident. You had that really bad stomach bug and you couldn’t even get out of bed.” Your mouth fell open to protest, but he chuckled softly as his arms wrapped around you. “I know it doesn’t count. I was just answering your question.” 

You rolled your eyes although he couldn’t see it considering your face was buried in his chest. “Well I’m not sick now, and I’m going to be there. You have to get there first though, gotta get all pretty for Stay.” His arms were like constrictors, keeping you close and holding you tighter when you tried to pull away from him. “Binnie~~” You playfully whined and you lightly pushed back against him. “You’re gonna be late. You need to go now… I’ll see you soon.” You tilted your head back to kiss him, smiling against his lips when they were against yours. “I love you, now go… Go, go, go.” 

Not many people knew about yours and Changbins relationship, aside from the guys and a few of the staff members that would let you in the back doors for concerts and shows like this, but other than that, your relationship was completely off the grid. It’s not that you both wanted to keep your relationship hidden forever, it’s just that with the group at the peak of their fame, you didn’t want a dating scandal to ruin what they worked so hard to achieve. 

That’s why you’d leave the house two hours after him, just to make sure that anyone who might’ve been watching him would have left already too. You had even gotten your own fake staff card, just so that if anyone were to ever ask, you could say that you worked with them, that you were Changbins personal staff. You couldn’t be more thankful for the ones that did know, they were doing their best to make it easier for you and Bin to be together and you appreciated it more than anything. 

“Is she here yet?” Changbin asked from his chair as the makeup artist finished up what she had to do. It was clear that he was getting agitated, there was only 15 minutes left before he had to go on stage and you had never been this late before. You hadn’t even responded to his texts, you weren’t responding to the other guys either. It wasn’t like you to be like that, and the only thing he could even think to have happened was that you fell asleep. You must’ve laid down at some point and that’s why you weren’t there or responding. 

That thought failed to make him feel better though. How could you just fall asleep knowing that he needed you there? Did you even care about how this makes him feel? How was he supposed to perform without you there? Why would you say you’d be there and then just… not show up? He was pissed. “Changbin, it’s time for you to go out… What do you want us to do if she shows up while you’re performing though?” 

Changbin sighed, going to the door to take one last look, just to see if you had come or not… Of course, you weren’t there. Was he not important to you anymore? Do you not care that he needs you, that he can’t perform his best when you’re not in the crowd? “Tell her to go back home.” He huffed, turning away, trying his best to look like your absence wasn’t literally destroying him. 

The other guys could see it though, they could feel it radiating off of him. His anger, his disappointment, his sadness. His moves weren’t as powerful, his voice wasn’t as loud as usual. The performance in general was weak, and everyone could tell that he was antsy to run off the stage once the performance was over. 

“Look, Changbin… She makes it to literally all of your other performances… There’s gotta be a legitimate reason she didn’t make it to this one.” Jisung tried to calm Changbin down as he followed behind him to go backstage. “She wouldn’t just not show up for no reason.” 

“She was fine when I left today. She wasn’t sick like that last time.” Changbin explained, dropping down into his chair in front of the mirror and ripping the makeup removing wipes from the bag. “If she didn’t want to come she should have just told me.” He roughly rubbed the wipes over his face, leaving his skin red and slightly blotchy when he was done. “I was shit out there… I was so upset! What is STAY gonna think? What is everyone gonna think?!” 

“Calm down, man.” Jisung tried once again, patting Changbins shoulder as he sat in the chair beside him. “You weren’t shit, I couldn’t even tell that you were upset. You’re worrying too much.” He grabbed the water bottle off the table and handed it to Changbin, motioning for it to drink it. “Just take a deep breath, I’m sure there’s a good reason.” 

“She hasn’t even tried to-“ His phone started vibrating on the table, the number unknown, and he was hesitant to answer it but with Jisungs urging, he answered just before it stopped ringing. “Who’s this?” He asked, his agitation ringing through in his tone, but he heard the heavy sigh from the other end and he knew it was you. “A lot of nerve you have to call after the performance is already over. If you weren’t going to come you should have told me before I left.” 

“You’re just gonna jump to conclusions before I even tell you what happened?” He scoffed loudly at your question, and out of the corner of his eyes he could see Jisung shaking his head. “Do you not even care what happened?” 

“Do you not care about me?” He retorted, jumping up from his chair, his irritation fueling him to pace back and forth across the room. “I waited for you to show up until the last minute! You didn’t call me! You didn’t text me! Do you know how I felt?!” He practically shouted into the phone, unaware that everyone in the room was now watching him, wincing at not only the loudness, but also the lack of concern for whatever it was that you could have been saying. 

“There was an accident…” You whispered, and he could barely hear your words over his heavy breaths. “I couldn’t get there… I was trying to…” You continued, and although you couldn’t see it, he rolled his eyes, throwing his one hand up in frustration before running it through his hair. 

“If you loved me enough you would have found a way around the accident to get here, to be here for me.” Now that his back was turned to the wall and he was facing the rest of the guys, he could see the mortified looks on their faces. None of them were used to him being this big of a jerk, and while he wasn’t looking at himself that way, clearly they were. Not that he cared, he was pissed. To him, it was simple enough, just go around the accident, find a different route. He would have done it for you if you wanted him to be somewhere for him. 

“Well I’m so sorry that I couldn’t go around the accident considering I was in it, Changbin.” You shouted back, and then the call was ended. Changbin froze in his spot, his phone still at his ear as he stared at the guys who looked just as shocked as he did even though they didn’t even hear what you had said. He immediately tried to call you back, but it kept going to the hospital line and he didn’t know your room number so he didn’t even know how to get a hold of you. 

“Someone… Someone look on the news or something… About a car accident, a car accident…” He stammered, unable to get his hands to stop shaking long enough to do the search himself. Once the accident was brought up, everyone started panicking, and all the guys in the room, including the staff members who were all scrolling through their phones at once. Sharp gasps and whispered curses filled the room as they apparently all came across the headline story, and Changbin went to Jeongin who happened to be the closest, yanking the youngest boys phone from his hand to read the news. 

A small fender bender had turned into a massive pileup on the highway, and while there was no set number for how many people had been injured or worse, judging by the amount of cars in the overhead picture at the top of the article, he was sure that it would be a lot. You were lucky to have made it out, to have been able to call him as quickly as you did considering how recent the accident had happened. He was lucky that you weren’t severely injured or worse. 

“I need to get… I need to get to the hospital…” The words rolled out of Changbins mouth, although he wasn’t as loud now, and he was tripping over every syllable. His hands were still shaking and now his entire body seemed to tremble as well. There was no way that he’d be able to drive himself there, and there was no way any of the guys would allow him to be on the road in that state, especially considering the news story that had him wanting to rush to the hospital in the first place was about an accident. 

Bangchan stood up, slipping his phone into his pocket and then walking over to Changbin, taking Jeongins phone out of his hand and handing it back to the maknae before ushering Changbin out of the room. “I’ll take you there, you need to calm down first though.” He was trying his best to calm him down, squeezing his shoulder and rubbing his back, but nothing seemed to be working. “Look, you know she’s alright. She called you. If there was anything seriously wrong, you wouldn’t have even gotten a phone call.” 

And while the words were meant to be a means of reassuring him, Changbin could only shiver at the thought of something worse happening to you. What if something worse had happened? “I was so mad…” He mumbled, running his hands through his hair. “I yelled at her… I didn’t even listen… I’m the worst boyfriend in the world…” He was already worked up, but the more he spoke, the shakier his voice got, and it almost sounded like the words got stuck in his throat at one point as he started to sob. “What if she doesn’t want to see me? What if… If she kicks me out of the room? What if she sends me home?” 

“Then you go home and you give her space…” Bangchan said, clearly not giving Changbin the answer that he had wanted. His head whipped so fast to look at the leader, his eyes wide, questioning whether that was something that he should really do. “Look… I know that you don’t want to go home… But you did kind of yell at her and you probably made her feel like shit, and you didn’t even listen to her… She was in a car accident and you… You were selfish.” 

Shit. He was selfish… You probably didn’t want to be around him at all. Should he even go to the hospital at all? No… That question was stupid, even if you didn’t want to see him, he had to see you at least once to make sure you were okay. He climbed into the passenger seat of Chans car and slumped down as he put on his seatbelt. “What if she breaks up with me, hyung?” Changbin mumbled, his hands vigorously rubbing over his face as his tears fell slowly. “I can’t… I can’t perform without her… I can’t do anything without her.” 

Chan sighed as he started up the car, driving slowly down the highway that was backed up still from the accident. He tried not to look at it, but Changbin had leaned forward to look around Chan as he drove by, his eyes widening when he saw the damage that was done, and then a small gasp mingled with a sob escaped him when he saw your car in the pileup. “She’s okay, Bin. You’ve talked to her…” 

But Changbin shook his head, his breaths shallow and quick as his head fell forward. “I yelled at her… Do you see what she went through… And I yelled at her… I’m awful. I don’t deserve her…” He muttered, curling up into himself and resting his forehead against his knees. “How could I… I just assumed… Which isn’t right… I trust her… She said she’d be there and…” 

He was beginning to ramble, his words barely even making sense, he was panicking both inwardly and outwardly and Chan was becoming increasingly worried about his friend. “Take a deep breath. Everything is going to be fine. I’m not gonna say it will be right now, but… She’s not going to be mad forever.” And Changbin knew that Chans honesty was, although disheartening, what he needed to hear. He didn’t want to walk into the hospital with the hope that everything would be 100% fine, it would only crush him more if you were to kick him out. He needed to he ready for anything. 

Honestly, you weren’t sure why the hospital was still keeping you there. You were fine, well, as fine as you could be, but you knew that it could be worse. You were one of the lucky ones, and all you wanted to do was go home and curl up next to Changbin because, even though he was an ass, he was your safe spot, and you wanted nothing more than to feel safe after what you had just gone through. 

The knock at the door had you sitting up, expecting Changbin to come in when you told him to, but instead the doctor peaked around the door with a smile before coming in fully. “How are you feeling?” He asked, and the question made you roll your eyes as your head continued to throb. “I know, it’s not the best situation but… It could have been worse. You’re lucky.” And you were, you knew that you were. 

“Right… Thank you.” You mumbled, leaning back in the bed and looking up at the tv that was turned to the news station, the helicopter cameras giving an aerial shot of just how bad the accident had been. “How long do I have to be here?” You tried to sound like it wasn’t annoying to feel stuck there, but the doctor could clearly see that you were more than ready to go home. 

“You hit your head quite hard, we just want to keep you overnight to make sure you don’t have any sort of concussion.” You sighed heavily, sinking further down into the bed and pulling the blanket up around you. “The nurse will be around in a little bit to check your gauze and change it. Try to get some rest or relax.” He patted the end of your bed, offering you a sympathetic smile before leaving you alone once again. 

You didn’t have anything. Your phone and your purse had been left in the car when you were taken to the hospital, you were hoping that it would be retrieved and given back to you at some point, but it didn’t seem like that point would be any time soon. Another knock had you groaning loudly, expecting the nurse now as you mumbled out a “Come in…” just loud enough for the nurse to hear. 

“My baby!” Changbin practically screamed as he rushed through the door, running straight to your bed and cupping your face in his hands. “I’m so sorry! Where does it hurt!? Are you in pain?! I’m so glad you’re alright!” He took a moment to look you over, noticing the way the gauze around your head was stained slightly red. “My beautiful girl… You must have been so scared… Are you okay?” 

His voice softened and you felt the sudden urge to cry as you looked at him. You didn’t care that he had been an asshole on the phone, all you had wanted was for him to be there, and here he was. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer, breathing in his scent and letting out the breath in a shaky sob. “It was awful… All I wanted was you… I kept asking for you, for them to get you… I needed you…” You whispered against his shirt, gripping onto it tightly. 

You heard him sniffle softly beside your ear before his lips pressed quick kisses across your face. “I’m here… I’m so sorry… I know you’re probably mad at me… But I don’t want to leave you until I know you’re better.” He whispered through a shaky breath, and when he pulled back your eyes were more sad than before as you stared at him. “You’re gonna leave me?” You questioned, your eyes quickly dropping down to your hands that were worriedly picking at the fabric of the hospital blanket. “I’m… I’m not mad. I know that you wanted me there… And I would have called you to let you know what happened as soon as I got here, but my phone and my purse are still in the car…” 

A quiet gasp escaped his pursed lips before he gently tilted your head up, pressing a kiss to your lips and then your nose and then giving you a small smile. “I’m not leaving you… I’m gonna stay right here…” He pointed to the floor beside your bed and then grabbed your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. “We’re gonna go home together, and then I’m gonna take care of you until you feel 100% better. Then… I don’t care what anyone says, when I do shows, you’re coming with me. One scare is enough for a lifetime… and I want to spend my lifetime with you. I’m never leaving you alone again.” 

[theminecraftbee]

so, first, accountability statement: I plan on trying to finish the “zedaph steals a baby” fic by the end of the month and god is that one-line summary no longer accurate but we’re sticking to it, said here publicly so now I have to do it. obviously I also have recursive exchange and the writing I have for hotguy comics zine, but I am not SUPER worried about either of those time/inspiration-wise at the moment and also for Reasons I know it won’t be long until I have more free writing time after that, SO.

various items that are on my potential writing docket, I am curious which of these appeal most:

I dust off the supervillain support group au. two ways this could go: I chip away at the second arc of my original outline and acknowledge this will be like a 300k fic I’m not ready to feel “done” with or “ready to post” with for ages, or I re-work it into something a little more doable and less ambitious keeping the same premise (ren runs a support group for supervillains, doc pov as he starts to heal and redeem himself). this MAY honestly be a target for “if I don’t hate the first 50k on re-reading it and I can actually make my brain write the second arc, do a slower release schedule and then start releasing chapters before I’m done writing”? but this ALSO runs the risk of “I stopped writing it, which is often a sign I was having trouble writing it”.

pearl monster au, which has been cooking in my head for a long while. the basic premise is “one day, pearl, with no memory of how or why this happened, wakes up in a facility as a monster and must try to figure out how she got there, escape, and find her way home, even knowing she may be irrevocably changed”. now with bonus season 10 fish flavor to add to this creature design I’ve been iterating on in my head for forever! this one is ALSO an experiment for me in “can I write a fic where I can’t write dialogue for basically the entire first act”, which would be interesting to see from me, you know?

the related “bigb folklore au”, where after secret life bigb is woken up by Cat and Dog by the tracks of the King Snake, which bigb can recognize as the railroad track, and decides to journey down the railroad to see if he can figure out what the fuck is going on. I need to do video review of life series bigb for this one. this is my excuse to get Weird and Metaphorical and also assign everyone to various animals for no reason, along with using some very specific aesthetic I have wanted to use for some worldbuilding but hadn’t gotten around to yet in any of my stuff. man walks through the desert with animal, confronts train that might be the watchers, might be death, and might just be a train. also, realizes that “confront” is the operative word there and has to deal with that. you know how it is.

““office au””, in air quotes because it’s not REALLY what anyone going to an office au is looking for so much as an excuse to write weird horror. iskall, normal-ish software developer man in a boring office job who does game jams in his free time, goes to work one day to work in his boring downtown office on a payment system for a client. and then things, uh, Take A Turn. this would be a LITTLE me going “what if I wrote an au with a guy who works in tech but like, the boring side of tech I’m in. like, banks and consulting and manufacturing and shit. where you sit in meetings all day and tweak java 8 code even though that language is ten years out of date. but THEN. something exciting happens in the worst way possible.” I’m doing to iskall what I did to mumbo stuffed bird is what I’m saying. it’d be fun.

DO ANY OF THESE PARTICULARLY INTEREST ANYONE. your input will be valued. like 50% chance i get hit with a strong bolt of inspiration then IGNORE that input but it’ll be valued all the same,

[j0eyj0rdis0n]

I don’t know how to say this but I am in love with your polyproxies. Your writing is so well thought out and amazing I AM BEGGING FOR MORE. I’ll do anything! You’re amazing btw

Hi love!! I’m so glad you like it! I’ve honestly been having a really hard time getting motivation to write smut so I hope this will do! You’re absolutely amazing too!! 🖤🖤

POLY PROXIES PT.2

Fandom: Creepypasta

Plot: None just poly with the proxies 🫡

Warnings: SMUT, face fucking, cum swallowing, recording, unprotected sex, creampie, oral female receiving, nutting on the readers face 😎

Fucked brainless, that’s what you were. Taking them all so well whenever they wanted. You were theirs and they let you know it. They loved the way you took them without complaint. Letting Toby abuse your mouth and Tim twist you into whatever dirty position he wanted you.

You know… Tim doesn’t exactly take lightly to complaints. So when you tell him “yes sir” it’s like music to his ears.

Currently Brian’s sits in the chair on the opposite side of the room, slowly stroking his throbbing cock. His video camera in his other hand, which currently, is zoomed in on your drooling mouth as Toby goes to town. The boy was fucking your mouth like an animal in heat. Like he hadn’t gotten his rocks off in months. And you, being so damn good, were taking him so well.

Toby’s desperate moans and sinful whines filled the small bedroom as he absolutely abused your mouth. He could barely open his eyes to watch you he was so washed away by the bliss that was slowly building inside him.

“Yes! Yes- F-fuuuuck-“ Toby cried out desperately only taking two more harsh thrusts for him to come undone. His hot seed slid easily down your throat as he collapsed next to you on the bed. His chest was heaving and his mind so clouded he couldn’t do anything but hold your limp hand as Tim fucked you further into oblivion.

Brian focused the camera on your pretty pink pussy that he was so desperate to get a taste of. He watched Tim with envious eyes, watching as your hole happily invited his cock in. He watched as your slick ran down the insides of your thighs, seeing the shine against Tim’s lower abdomen. He could barely wait for his own turn.

Tim let out low grunts and growls with every thrust, praising you for being so so good for him.

“Damn sweetheart, your pussy wants me to come fast huh?” He groaned out as his head rolled back.

He loved the way you squeezed around him, like your tiny hole was desperate for more. More of his deliciously thick cock that filled you up just the right way to have your toes curling. 

“So pretty for me too~” He harshly grabbed your jaw, pulling you up to meet him so he could catch your lips in a deep kiss. His strong arms made holding you in the complex position look easy. His large fingers found their way to your mouth, replacing his soft lips and prodding you to suck them like the dumb little bitch you were.

You felt his thrusts getting sloppy, or at least you thought so, honestly your mind wasn’t processing much more than the ecstasy you were feeling.

His grunts slowly turned into low moans as he finished inside of you. He pulled out slowly, replacing his cock with his thick fingers, stuffing your pretty hole and making sure not a drop could escape. He motioned with his head for Brian to come closer, finally letting him have his turn.

Brian couldn’t even keep the camera still as he jumped up and raced over to have you. He pushed Tim out of the way, handing him the camera which Tim grumpily focused on the scene that would unfold in front of him. Brian practically jumped at the chance to taste you, taste your slick and Tim’s seed combined. With one long stripe of his tongue he already had you whining, your pretty thighs about suffocating him.

But god did he love it. He loved how close you made him just by crushing him with your perfect thighs. And on top of how absolutely delectable you tasted?? He could die happy now.

He held your thighs apart just enough to give him breathing room as he attacked your clit with kisses and licks. He absolutely loved how he could get your thighs to shake when he pulled away just before you were about to come. Once, twice, three times, four times. By the time he had finally let you finish you were on the verge of passing out. Cute tears in your eyes, thighs shaking, and sobs wracking your body.

Oh how it was too much for you to get used by the three men around you. It made them all laugh how ruined you looked.

“Come on pretty, give me a lick.” Brian smirked as he got up, putting his cock inches from your swollen lips. “Come on, I know you got it in ya’.”

Being so good like always, you took his length in your mouth, tears falling as you did as he asked. Brian ripped the camera from Tim’s hands, putting it in your face to get a nice close up angle. Watching through the viewfinder it didn’t take long at all for him to finish. How absolutely filthy you were being was just the icing on the cake for him. He let his load go right on your pretty face, painting you just how he wanted before he turned the camera off and put it down on the side table.

Toby happily licked your face, ‘cleaning’ you up and giving you a sloppy kiss right after. Brian laid on your right, giving you a soft forehead kiss, silently letting you know how good you did.

“Toby you know your place.” Tim grumbled, pushing him off the bed and taking his place next to you on the left.

With an irritated glare to Tim, Toby helped put your shorts on and took his place in-between your thighs, resting his head.

[manheeiim]

chapter four: sweet on the inside & outside

-- a ghostly love masterlist

The next day, we all sat in our usual circle in the gymnasium. Mr. Martin was talking to all of us as we passed the donut box around. 

“There’s an old cider mill off Route 47, and my parents would toss us in the Dodge Coronet. We’d each get a bag of warm, greasy donuts. That was my idea of nirvana.” Mr. Martin says, thinking back to his memories as a kid.

I grabbed a glazed donut from the box before handing it to Wally who took it, making sure that he grazed his fingers over mine as he did so. He got a jelly donut out of the box and handed the box over to Rhonda.

“What’s that about?” She asks. He looked at her confused. “You always leave me the worst one.” Rhonda complains. I bring my hand up to my neck and rub the side of it. I don’t know why but she has gotten on my nerves ever since I met her. 

“What do you mean? It’s lemon glazed.” Wally tells her.

“Nobody wants a lemon donut.” Rhonda remarks.

I mean she was right about that.

“Guys, the subject is nirvana.” Mr. Martin says.

“No, the subject is entitlement.” Rhonda retorts. 

“Oh, okay. I’m entitled because I like anything filled with jelly.” Wally sighs. “It’s not my fault I like things with sweet stuff inside of it.” Wally then adds, looking over at me and giving me a wink. 

“Oh my god.” I say, shocked at his constant boldness, especially in front of the others.

“Ew. Just ew.” Rhonda says. “I don’t even want that anymore. That’s gross.” She says.

“Guys, the subject is nirvana.” Mr. Martin repeats.

“Excuse me, can I be excused? I just want to eat my donut in peace.” Wally says.

“More entitlement.” Rhonda puts her hand up in disbelief.

“It’s not entitlement, Rhonda. Okay? It’s about- it’s about digestion.” Wally tells her.

I can’t hold back my laugh. Wally looks over to me and smiles after hearing my laugh.

“Oh, Lucia. I’ve just been reminded. I have a homework assignment for you.” Mr. Martin tells me.

I blink a few times, “Homework?” I ask.

“Well, kind of. I want you to write your obituary. Everyone here has done it already.” He says.

 “I…” I trail off. I sigh. “Okay.” I shrug. I didn’t have the energy to complain right now.

There’s a sudden weird sound and I looked over to see Wally slurping the jelly out of the donut. “Oh, my god.” He says. enjoying the jelly.

“Um… I’ll just.. start that now actually.” I say.

“Yeah.” Mr. Martin says, agreeing with me.

<3

I then spent the next day writing my obituary. Even if the last few months, or well, years of my life hadn’t been that great, there were some core memories that I had. I guess writing it out was nice. I found Mr. Martin in the hallway after I’d finished so that I could give it to him. “Mr. Martin.” I say and he looks over. “I finished my obituary.” I told him.

“Wow, thank you.” He says as he takes the papers from me.

“You’re welcome.” I softly say.

“How did it feel? Writing all of that out.” Mr. Martin asked.

“It felt… nice.” I admit.

“Good.” He smiles.

There’s a few moments of awkward silence. “Well… see you.” I say and he just nods before I turn around and walk away.

<3

I sit on the bleachers in the pool room with Charley as Rhonda sits on the edge of the pool and Wally sits in a float in the water, wearing only some swim trunks and sunglasses. Charley was applying some of Rhonda’s sunscreen to his arms. Why? I don’t know, there was really no point. But, you do you, I guess.

“Uh, easy with the coppertone, hun.” Rhonda comments.

“Yeah, that bottle’s got to last her another 60 years.” Wally says.

I watch as she kicks her foot in the water, splashing some water at him, “Don’t be a cube.” She says.

I giggle at what she’d said. Yeah, she was definitely from the ‘60s. She looks over at me with a scowl on her face. 

“I- I’m sorry.” I say, not really meaning it. “It’s just.. nothing. It’s nothing.” I say.

“You are such a bug.” She says.

I twirl a part of my hair with my finger, “Alright.” I dismissively say. 

“I love this smell.” Charley says, rather loudly, trying to get us to stop. “Coconut, verbena. You can be anywhere; Miami, Aruba.” He tells us. “I miss a good sunburn.” He says.

“I miss pussy.” Wally says and everyone looks over at him. “What? I thought we were talking about stuff that we missed.” He tells us.

I cover my face with my hands. I can’t.

<3

“So, how have you been adjusting to the life of the undead?” Wally asks as we sit on the bleachers. It was nighttime and so it was quite pretty with all the stars and all.

“The life of the undead?” I ask, giggling at the way he phrased it. Wally smiled after hearing me laugh. “Um, yeah. It’s… actually not been that bad. I think it’s actually better than things were when I was alive.” I say.

“Really?” He asks and I nod. “Why? Cause I’m here now?” Wally asks, smirking at me.

“No.” I partially lied. I mean, honestly, I wouldn’t admit it to him just yet, but… I was glad that I met him, even if we were ghosts and even if he was constantly making inappropriate jokes.

“I’ll change your mind, don’t worry.” He says.

“Oh, really? And how exactly are you going to do that?” I ask.

He looks down at my lap before looking into my eyes again, “Well, I have a couple of ideas.” He teases.

I gently push his chest, “You’re a little too bold.” I say.

“Nothing wrong with that.” Wally shrugs. 

“When it comes to you.. there is.” I tease back.

“I can’t help it when you look like that in your uniform.” Wally tells me.

“So, if I wasn’t wearing this then you wouldn’t be like this?” I ask.

“Nah, you’d be fine either way.” Wally says.

Was it so wrong that even if his boldness was a lot, that I liked it?

[bradshawsbaby]

Forever Valentine

Pairing: Rooster x Fiancée!Reader

Author’s Note: It’s been a hot minute since I’ve written anything for the Bradshaws, huh? I had a weird anxiety about writing this one, which I think was due in part to the fact that I haven’t written for them since Christmas. But I’m happy with how this little story came out! It was written for @roosterforme​’s #love is in the air tgm challenge! The song that inspired it is Can’t Take My Eyes Off You by Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons. Hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Pre-wedding stress, a smidge of angst, and a whole lot of fluff.

You felt like you were going to cry.

You couldn’t remember ever feeling so stressed out about anything in your life, and that included the time you registered for that anthropology class in the spring semester of your senior year thinking it would be an easy three credits, only for it to end up being more work than all four years of college combined. At least your stress had made sense then—bioarchaeology wasn’t necessarily the most chipper of topics. But now? This was supposed to be the most exciting time of your life, and you felt like you were ruining all the joy by letting yourself get so worked up.

In a little over a week, you would be walking down the aisle to join your life forevermore to the man you loved more than anything in the world.

And yet, you were frantic.

Despite the fact that you and Bradley had been engaged for over a year, and that you’d been planning your wedding for nearly as long, it still felt like there wasn’t enough time to get everything done. The past month alone had felt like a whirlwind, an endless marathon where you kept running and pushing, and yet somehow never made it past the finish line.

Bradley had been amazing, as he always was. While he couldn’t really care less about wedding details—he would have been just as happy getting married in bathing suits at The Hard Deck as he was to get married in his dress whites at the church you’d booked last year—he never failed to offer his unending support and encouragement. He went with you on every venue tour, tasted every flavor of cake imaginable, let you drive him to the brink of insanity comparing floral arrangements, sat up with you all night making seating charts, left you encouraging notes when you went dress shopping, and held you tightly whenever the stress of it all became too much and you just needed to bawl your eyes out.

If you had ever doubted that Bradley Bradshaw was the man for you—which you hadn’t—his devotion and patience during the wedding planning process would have sealed the deal for you. You still weren’t sure how you had ever gotten so blessed, but at least now you’d have the rest of your life to thank your lucky stars for it.

At the moment, however, you weren’t exactly feeling blessed. Stressed was probably the more appropriate term.

In just a week and a day, you and Bradley would finally be saying “I do,” but it felt like there were a million things that needed to be done before that time. Penny and Phoenix had been an amazing help, and your mom would be here in a few days to help tie up some of the last minute details, but you’d always had a hard time delegating and ended up putting too much pressure on your own shoulders. Bradley affectionately scolded you about it all the time.

“Honey, why don’t you let Penny help you with this?” he’d asked one night, pressing a kiss to your shoulder as he watched you fuss over the menu options for the reception. “You know she’d be happy to.”

“I know,” you’d nodded in response, brow furrowed in concentration. “But I don’t want to bother her.”

“Can I do anything?” he asked on other occasions, always looking a bit terrified by all the checklists and folders you had scattered around you at any given time.

“No, no, it’s okay,” you always rushed to reassure him. “I’ve got it.”

Still, he always stayed with you and made sure, in the midst of everything, that you were eating enough and drinking plenty of water. And that mattered so much more than anything else he could have done.

Your heart was pierced with guilt now as you sat in the living room of your apartment, making final confirmations with vendors and going over your checklists for the one hundred millionth time. Your fiancé was such a good man—the best man you had ever known. And he had been your rock through all of this. Not only were you concerned about the wedding and your honeymoon plans, but you and Bradley had also recently closed on the apartment where you were going to begin your lives together as husband and wife, and planning for that move was taking up a good chunk of space in your brain. Still, he had never once complained about how scatter-brained you’d been recently. On the contrary, he’d spent the past several weeks trying everything in his power to lift some of your self-imposed pressure off your shoulders. Bradley had done nothing but show his love for you at every turn.

And how did you repay all that love and kindness? You’d forgotten that today was Valentine’s Day.

Bradley had stayed over at your place the night before, as he often did, but you had been up so late, talking on the phone with your mom for hours, that you’d slept through both of his alarms this morning. Evidently he hadn’t wanted to disturb you, because you had no memory at all of him climbing out of bed and getting ready for work. When you did wake up a few hours later, however, you walked into the kitchen to find a yellow rose—your favorite—sitting beside the coffee pot, along with a little handwritten Post-it note stuck to the machine.

Happy Valentine’s Day, honey! I love you so much and I can’t wait to be your husband. Just 8 more days!

You felt like you’d been hit by a freight train. Despite all your careful planning and compulsive checklists, you’d somehow completely overlooked the fact that today was February 14th. You felt like the world’s worst fiancée.

In all fairness, you and Bradley had already talked about how you weren’t going to do anything big for Valentine’s Day this year.

“I know it’ll be a week before the wedding, and you’ve got so much going on, so we can keep it simple this year,” Bradley had murmured as the two of you had been lying in bed together. “We’ll just get to celebrate double next year,” he added with a grin, kissing your forehead.

“Sounds like a plan,” you had laughed in response, snuggling against his chest.

But this went beyond keeping it simple. You hadn’t even remembered. Bradley had been sweet enough to still find a way to make you feel special, and you hadn’t even woken up to give him a kiss goodbye this morning.

Hurrying back to your bedroom, you snatched up your phone and immediately opened your messages with Bradley.

Happy Valentine’s Day, baby! I love you! ♥️

A few minutes later, you heard your phone buzz and glanced down to see your fiancé’s response.

See you tonight, honey 😘

Bradley didn’t even necessarily know you had forgotten, but you still felt horribly guilty all the same. That afternoon, in between making phone calls, you raced out to the store and picked up some of his favorites candies and treats. You also placed a take-out order for dinner from his favorite restaurant, knowing you wouldn’t have time to cook for him this year.

You loved him more than anything, and you wanted him to know that. As special as he always made you feel, you wanted him to be confident in the knowledge that he was just as special and precious to you.

Thankfully, you managed to arrive back to your apartment with dinner before Bradley returned from work. Having already set out the candy you’d bought for him on the kitchen table, you popped the food into the oven to keep it warm for when he was ready to eat.

Plopping back down on the couch, you only had a few minutes to review your venue contract before you heard the front door to your apartment opening, Bradley using the key you’d given him before the two of you had even gotten engaged.

“Honey?” he called out, his deep voice causing goosebumps to rise on your arms immediately. You could definitely get used to hearing that greeting every night for the rest of your life.

Dropping the contract and jumping up off the couch, you hurried to the entryway to greet him, flinging your arms around him and kissing him deeply. You could feel his mustache tickling your upper lip, which made you giggle against his mouth.

“Well hello,” Bradley grinned when you finally pulled back, his arms settling snugly around your waist. “That was quite a greeting after a long day of flight maneuvers,” he chuckled, nuzzling his nose against yours as he leaned in closer.

“I missed you,” you told him, cupping his face in your hands and brushing another kiss, softer this time, against his lips.

Bradley smiled into the kiss, squeezing your hip affectionately. “Mmm, I missed you, too. You looked so tired that I didn’t want to disturb you this morning, but I missed getting to give you a proper goodbye before I left,” he admitted, peppering your jawline with gentle pecks.

His words were full of tenderness, but you felt a stab of guilt once more. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, burying your face in his neck as you wrapped your arms around him more tightly and hugged him close.

Surprised, Bradley chuckled lightly and dropped a kiss on the top of your head. “You don’t have to be sorry, baby. I know you were up late.” His large fingers brushed up and down your spine comfortingly. “Hope you treated yourself to a nice, big cup of coffee this morning.”

You nodded, your face still pressed in the crook between his neck and his shoulder. “I did. Thank you for the rose and the note. It made my day,” you said softly, your lips ghosting across his shoulder.

“Of course,” he murmured, his fingers playing with the ends of your hair. “I know we said we weren’t going to do anything too big, but I still wanted to do something for you for Valentine’s Day. I’m sorry it wasn’t much,” he apologized.

“Don’t say sorry,” you insisted, pulling back and looking up into his dark brown eyes. “It was perfect.”

“So are you,” Bradley grinned, kissing you gently.

Trying to push away the minor guilt that was still gnawing uncomfortably at you, you took his hand and led him into the kitchen. “I picked up dinner for you, if you’re hungry now,” you told him, thinking of the chicken pot pie that was resting in the oven. Bradley always said that it was the only pot pie he’d ever tasted at a restaurant that reminded him of his mom’s. “Chicken pot pie from Duncan’s.”

“Oh, wow, really? Thank you, honey!” he said excitedly, squeezing your hand as he stepped into the kitchen with you. “Damn, and all this, too?” he added, his eyes widening as they took in all the candy and snacks you’d laid out on the table. “You’re spoiling me tonight, baby. You definitely beat me at the Valentine’s Day game this year.”

You weren’t expecting it, but Bradley’s words suddenly had you bursting into tears, covering your face with your hands as you stood over by the oven.

Dropping the pack of Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups that he’d been holding, Bradley was by your side in an instant, wrapping you up in his arms and tucking your head underneath his chin. “Hey, hey, shh,” he murmured soothingly, rocking back and forth lightly. “What’s the matter, baby? What’s wrong?”

“I’m the worst fiancée ever!” you sobbed, hiccupping into his chest. “I don’t want you to think I’m so good! I totally forgot it was Valentine’s Day,” you confessed, sniffling loudly. “I only remembered when I saw your note this morning. So trust me, I most definitely did not beat you at the Valentine’s Day game.”

Bradley’s eyes widened as he listened to you ramble, one large hand moving up and down your back with firm strokes. Then, without warning, he started to laugh.

“It’s not funny!” you exclaimed, your face mottled with tears as you pulled back to glare up at him. “You do everything for me, and you’ve been so amazing, especially with all my wedding craziness, and I can’t even remember to buy you a piece of candy on Valentine’s Day? Some wife I’m going to make!” you cried irrationally.

Bradley sobered immediately at your outburst, holding your face in his hands and forcing you to look up at him. “Hey, I’m sorry,” he said, waiting until you made direct eye contact with him. “I’m sorry, honey. I shouldn’t have laughed. I know you’ve been under so much pressure lately,” he went on, brushing your tears away with his thumbs. “Between the wedding and the new apartment and everything else that you have going on, who cares that you forgot Valentine’s Day? I certainly don’t!”

“But I do,” you sniffled, reaching up to wipe your nose with the back of your hand. “I love you. I love you so much. And I want you to know that,” you explained, your voice trembling with further unshed tears.

“I do know that,” Bradley replied gently, caressing your cheek with a gentle hand. “It would be kind of crazy of me to doubt it considering we’re getting married next week,” he added with a soft chuckle. “Baby, you forgot one Valentine’s Day. Considering everything else you’ve been juggling—and juggling perfectly, I might add—it’s pretty amazing what you’re able to do on a daily basis. It doesn’t bother me at all that this slipped your mind.”

Crumpling, you buried your face in his chest and started to cry all over again.

“I think I know what this is really about,” Bradley murmured, resting his cheek against the top of your head and holding you close. “You’ve been way too stressed out about the wedding lately. And that’s my fault. I’ve been too preoccupied with work, and letting you deal with too much on your own.”

“No, that’s not true. You’ve been—”

Bradley silenced your interruption with a kiss, stroking your hair tenderly. “Our wedding is supposed to be a happy day, baby. The happiest day of our lives. I know it’s going to be for me because it’s the day I get to call you mine forever. And I want it to be for you, too. I want you to get to enjoy all the hard work you’ve been putting into making this such a special day for everyone. It should be a special day for you above everyone else.”

“It will be,” you promised, offering him a watery smile. “Because I can’t wait to marry you.”

He smiled, dropping another soft kiss on your lips. “No more stress, honey. No more worrying. No more planning. No more checklists. No more trying to do everything by yourself. I’m here for you. And I want to help you. It is our wedding, after all,” he told you with a teasing grin.

You let out a breathy laugh, nodding your head slowly. “You’re right,” you agreed softly.

“And no more beating yourself up about forgetting Valentine’s Day either,” Bradley insisted, resting his hands on your shoulders and shooting you a pointed look. “We’re going to have so many Valentine’s Days together, baby. If we remembered every single one, we’d run out of things to do. Trust me, I’m more than satisfied knowing that you’re my forever Valentine,” he smiled, curling his finger under your chin and lifting your face so that your eyes met.

“How do you always know the right thing to say?” you pouted playfully, wrapping your arms around his neck.

Bradley threw back his head and laughed at that, beaming. “You know, my mom used to say that she would ask my dad that same exact question. Usually, it was when he was managing to get out of trouble. Guess it’s just a Bradshaw quality.”

“Oh, well, thank goodness I’m marrying into such a good family then,” you giggled, leaning up to kiss him sweetly.

“You’re going to be the perfect addition to the Bradshaw clan,” Bradley smiled, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose.

You sighed softly, contentedly, as you snuggled up against his chest, resting your head on his shoulder. “I love you so much,” you whispered.

“I love you right back. More than words could ever say,” Bradley responded, turning his head so that his lips could brush against your forehead.

The two of you stood like that for a while, perfectly content to remain wrapped in each other’s arms as the tension of a long day seeped out of your bones. There was no place that felt safer than one another’s embrace.

You finally pulled back, giggling, when you heard Bradley’s stomach rumble.

“Sorry,” he grinned sheepishly, the tips of his ears turning pink. “Guess I’m hungrier than I realized.”

“Let me get dinner on the table for you,” you told him, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Why don’t you go freshen up?”

He nodded, dropping a quick succession of kisses on your mouth before stepping out of the kitchen.

Smiling, you cleared the kitchen table of all the candy you’d purchased, setting out plates and utensils before moving over to the oven to take out the food you’d ordered. Before you could place the food on the table, however, you suddenly heard music begin blaring from the speakers in the living room. You recognized those familiar strains.

You're just too good to be true

Can't take my eyes off of you

You'd be like Heaven to touch

I wanna hold you so much

At that moment, Bradley reappeared in the entryway to the kitchen, grinning from ear to ear.

“What’s this? A little mood music for dinner?” you laughed, resting a hand on your hip.

Stepping towards you, Bradley held out his hand with an infectious smile. “Dance with me,” he said, waiting patiently.

You didn’t hesitate as you slipped your hand into his, letting him pull you close to his chest as he spun you around the kitchen to the musical stylings of Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons.

“I love you, baby,” he sang against your ear, his voice melding with the music so perfectly that you were tempted to tease him about becoming the Fifth Season. But instead, you closed your eyes and let his soothing voice drift over you, washing away all the stress and anxiety that had been building up inside you these past few weeks.

You couldn’t wait to marry this man, this man who danced with you in the kitchen even when you had forgotten Valentine’s Day, and who spent every moment of every day reminding you how loved and cherished you were.

The day you became Mrs. Bradshaw would be the happiest day of your life. And it would have nothing to do with the floral arrangements or the wedding venue or the flavor of the cake. Instead, it would have everything to do with the man who was waiting for you at the end of the aisle. The man who wouldn’t be able to take his eyes off you, the same way you wouldn’t be able to take your eyes off him.

“I love you, Bradley Bradshaw,” you told him, beaming up at him as the song slowly started to come to an end.

“I love you, too, honey,” he smiled, kissing you deeply. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

[the-traveling-poet]

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Since today is Levi Ackerman’s birthday, (and Christmas too I guess) here’s a festive little idea I’ve had stuck in my head :)

taglist: @21aurora @deepzombieyouth @braunsbabe

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A bitter chill hung in the air throughout the halls, drafting in through HQ’s main doors opening and closing as people came and went as they pleased.

Wreaths hung outside office doors, and the occasional branch of mistletoe hung in various hall way arches in joking fashion. The hearth sat in the far corner of the mess hall had even been lit, warming those who stopped by’s hands from the winter chill.

Since it was the holiday weekend, Commander Erwin had called for a break through the next couple of days, just after training had ended earlier that same day around noon.

Everyone had been relieved for this time off to either return home to their families, or relax around HQ with minimal duties to entertain.

Yourself and several of the veterans in the Survey Corps had chosen to stay at base, keeping one another company in place of the families you either did not have, or had lost. But for some, neither scenario was the case.

Watching Captain Levi roam the nearly empty halls with his ever present blank expression, you soon understood he’d never had a family to lose, much less return to. So he had always opted to take vacation in the Survey Corps dorms.

Though, despite this bleak reality no doubt weighing on his conscience, his demeanor had considerably changed over the past week. Today especially had been exceptionally awkward around your boyfriend.

He’d made brief mention of his lack of family to you as you both grew closer over the months, and had officially began a relationship. You were both still new to romance, stumbling blindly over your ever growing emotions. Levi most especially. But regardless, this new chapter in your life, however new it was, had been a blessing you could have only hoped for.

With one last close inspection, you finished tidying up you recently neglected office and decided to search for Levi. After all, wasn’t it apart of your responsibility to check in with him when he wasn’t acting well?

After searching high and low for him, you hadn’t come across Levi anywhere he usually frequented on down time. You’d nearly decided to postpone your search, till a flicker of color caught your eye behind the mess hall’s windows.

Currently, Levi stood out among the training grounds, doing nothing more than observing his surroundings and watching the sky. Finding this behavior odd, as it was seldomly shown by the raven, you hesitantly left the hall and approached him, standing a respectable distance away.

“Levi,” You greeted softly.

“Y/N,” He curtly responded, his eyes never leaving the thick cover of clouds blocking out the sun. You searched his side profile for any indications as to what he might have felt, but you’d sooner see emotion shown on Wall Maria’s smooth surface before your fellow Captain’s.

Chewing at your lip and awkwardly shuffling your feet through the frost covered grass, you decided to broach the subject lightly.

“So…Are you hiding out here to avoid Hange again?”

Scoffing lightly, he shook his head.

“Partially. I just stepped out for some air. Needed to think, I guess.”

Frowning, your eyes left his face a moment as you realized what might have gotten him in a funk.

“You mentioned before, but never went into detail; you lost your mother around this time, right? Is that what’s going through your mind this week?”

You spoke softly and slowly, trying your hardest to ease into the topic carefully for his sake. Finally, he turned to fully face you, his steely eyes searching your face before he seemed to decide what he wanted to say.

“I did, yes. And you’re right, it has been. Never really cared for winter after she died, nor cared celebrating the one shitty day out of the year that makes me older.”

Slowly, you reached out for his fingers, finding them near freezing to the touch. He had to have been standing out here awhile, you thought, as you looked over his pink tinted ears and nose. Showing him a bittersweet smile, you began to gently rub some heat back into his hand with your own.

“Well, maybe think of it this way; your mother would be proud to see who you’ve become, and how hard you fought to escape the underground. She chose to love you for the time that she had, and she still does wherever she is. She’d be sad to see you freezing your ass off out here second guessing yourself.”

Whether it was the cold or the words you sincerely spoke, you couldn’t quite tell, but the light pink hue spreading across his cheeks was a color that you found suited him nicely. With a wider smile, you took his other hand into both of yours to repeat the process of warming them back up.

“And as for your birthday, well, I think your life is worth celebrating at the very least once a year. You’ve survived again and again, despite whatever odds you face each new year. And you’ve managed to put up with me more the past few weeks, so that’s a feat all in its own.”

To your surprise, a soft chuckle met the end of your speech. The corner of Levi’s lips were slightly upturned and the color in his cheeks had yet to fade.

Another first for you, was seeing the thin watery line cresting his eyes as he partially turned away, glancing one last time up at the sky before looking back at you and gripping your hands with both of his.

“Thanks, Y/N,” he all but whispered, swallowing back any more emotion from slipping out.

Shaking your head with a bemused grin, you squeezed his hands and daringly reached in to place a soft kiss on his cheek.

“Of course, I’m here for you. Always.”

With a gentle tug at his hands, you began to lead him away from the spot he hadn’t moved from in god knows how long.

“Now, let’s get you back inside. Maybe we could sit by the fire in the mess hall? Last I checked it wasn’t occupied, so we can have the space to ourselves for a bit.”

He merely nodded his head with an approving hum, holding on tighter to your hand as you led the way.

“Good, we’ll also grab some tea to cheer you up! And while we’re at it, we can talk about you at least letting me celebrate this birthday with you? Please?

Your eager prompting was met with the faint sound of him clicking his tongue in mock annoyance as he followed closely after you.

“I guess I can tolerate that. But no sappy bullshit, you hear? I don’t want this to be any kind of big deal.”

“So I cant tell Hange or Erwin?”

“You especially cannot tell them. I just…Want this to be between you and me.” Levi mumbled, avoiding the awestruck look you shot him over your shoulder, and the playful cooing that followed. Seeing his embarrassed scowl, you ceased your innocent teasing.

“Okay, okay, no sappy bullshit. But you never know, you might like it. Can’t say you don’t like something till you’ve tried it, you know?”

While you rambled on about how you would spoil him into enjoying a birthday for once, he listened in silence with a warm smile aimed at your back. Who knew, maybe he would enjoy this year’s celebrations after all, now that he had you to celebrate with.

As the two of you walked hand in hand back across the training field towards the base, snow startled to lazily float down from the heavens and fill the indents Levi’s shoes had set against the frosty grass only moment before as dusk fell over the land.

Perhaps it was nature’s way of accepting Levi finally leaving the baggage of his troubled thoughts in the past where they now belonged, you idly thought as you peered out from under the blanket you shared with your lover towards the window to watch the snowflakes fall some time later.

But here in this moment, resting your head on his shoulder by the fire with a warm mug of tea perched in your lap, you knew you’d always come to his aid if the snow didn’t brush the woes away.

[cloudlessly-light]

i need a hotchniss proposal fic if you will ever write one with or without smut! you write so well im sure it will be great whatever it is <3

A/N: Thank you Anon, that is so sweet of you! I hope you enjoy this little fluff!

Title: Darling, this is more than everything Summary: In the end, it’s nothing short of a miracle that Emily doesn’t figure out earlier that he’s carried the ring around for months.   Word count: 3,6k Rating: General Warnings: None, it's all fluff

Aaron knew he wanted to marry Emily after only a few weeks of dating. It was strange, being so sure about another person. He had never been very trusting, and after Haley he never imagined falling in love again, let alone loving someone like he loved Emily.

It hit him out of nowhere one morning. She had gotten up earlier than him and he found her in the kitchen with Jack, talking to him with a smile so comforting that Aaron felt his heart ache with adoration for her. And that’s when he knew.

Of course, he didn’t say anything about it, they were just starting out, both of them still had walls and issues of their own to deal with, even as they built a life together.

“I’ve never loved anybody like I love you.”

The words make him stop, because they come out of nowhere and he looks at Emily who’s sitting on the couch with a book in her lap. She was usually never the one to be so straight forward with her feelings, still had trouble expressing them sometimes even after almost a year of dating.

She’s blushing, her teeth digging into her bottom lip, like she hadn’t expected the words herself. But he’s smiling, smiling so big she’s sure it must hurt his cheeks.

“I’ve never loved anybody like I love you either, sweetheart.” He tells her as he takes the book from her lap and places it on the coffee table. When he kisses her it’s with all the promises he still hasn’t told her out loud.

As they lay in bed later that night he finds himself wondering what kind of ring she’d want.

He doesn’t mention his plans to anyone, and yet he’s unsurprised that JJ figures it out first. She was more perceptive than people thought and she knew him well, probably better than most.

“Are you proposing to Emily?” She asks when they’re alone and packing up after a case and he catches the smile on her face.

“Why would you ask that?” He continues to stack pipers into piles to be put into boxes and JJ chuckles.

“Because when you look at her I swear you look like your hearts stops beating and because it’s been more than a year, and you already live together.” She stops when he looks at her with a heavy brow and a knowing look and she faulters for a second. “And maybe because I saw when you stole one of her rings from her dresser last week when we had dinner.”

There it was, he thought. He looks at her for another couple of seconds and then relaxes.

“Don’t tell anyone.” He can’t help the way he laughs at the way JJ’s whole face lights up in excitement.

“I won’t.” She looks back to where she sees Derek and Emily walk towards them and she hurriedly asks. “When?”

“I haven’t decided yet.” He says quietly and finishes up putting the last few stacks of papers into boxes when Emily walks into the small conference room they had been working in, Derek right behind her.

“You’re awfully slow today.” She teases and comes to stand next to him, her hand finding his. They were done with the case, could finally let go of Hotch and Prentiss for a moment to simply be themselves.

“If you had helped it would have gone faster.” He quips and she fakes annoyance, her eyebrows furrowing even as she’s biting the inside of her cheek to keep her smirk at bay.

“I’ll have you know we were doing very important things.”

“Mhm sure, like what?” JJ asks and when Emily looks at her best friend she’s sure she can see happiness on her face that she hasn’t seen in a while.

“Coffee breaks are important for the soul.” Derek answers for her and she throws a crumbled up piece of paper at him.

“Good job ‘not letting the boss know we’re slacking off’, Morgan.” When she’s met with Derek’s laugh and Aaron’s heavy browed frown she shrugs and bats her eyelashes.

“It’s a good thing I love you.” He mutters she grins winningly.

He finds the ring he wants a couple of months later. It’s simple, a white gold band with a diamond that he knows Emily won’t find to be too much but is still a decent carat. He’s walking out of the jewelry store, the box still in his hand when he collides with somebody out of nowhere.

“Oh, excuse me- Hotch?” Derek looks at him in surprise. “Sorry I didn’t see you. What are you doing here?”

“I had some errands-” He starts but he can already see the other man look at the store he just walked out of, eyes soon finding the box in his hand, and he stops trying to explain as Derek grins.

“So it’s finally time huh?” He beams, his warm hand landing on his shoulder as he squeezes it. “Your secret is safe with me.”

“Thank you.” He smiles at him and puts the box in his inside pocket.

“Come on, let me buy you a drink to celebrate.”

Even if Aaron had wanted to object, he knew there wasn’t a point.

He wants to propose the moment he has the ring, but he also wants to make it special. So he waits, and in that time Spencer figures it out. Aaron knew he’d never really understand the youngest man of their team’s brain, how he notices patterns and changes so easily.

But one night he knocks on his office door, a look of uncertainty on his face and Aaron immediately stops writing.

“Are you alright Reid?” He asks as Spencer closes the door carefully behind him.

“Yes. I just, I wanted to talk to you about something.”

He motions for him to sit down and he straightens in his chair but he stays quiet and waits for whatever Spencer needs to say.

“JJ is my best friend.” He starts and it only makes Aaron confused. “But before Doyle, before Paris, Emily was the one I trusted more than anyone. She never judged me.”

“If this is about us not telling you about faking her death-” He starts but is quickly cut off by the younger man.

“No. No it’s not that.” Spencer straightens slightly in his chair, his eyes meeting Aaron’s darker ones. “I trust her with everything, and I know she trusts you with everything, including her heart.”

“Reid-” He starts again but he’s interrupted again.

“When you propose, you have to be sure. About her, about your relationship.” He says and he sees the way Aaron looks at him in surprise, eyebrows knitted together.

“Have I done something that makes you think I’m not?” He finally asks and Spencer shakes his head.

“No, and I know you make each other happy, probably happier than I’ve ever seen either of you. But just… be sure.” He sits for another few seconds before nodding and then stands.

“I am.” Aaron stands too and walks around the desk. To Spencer’s surprise, Aaron pulls him into a hug. “Thank you for looking out for her.” He says before letting go and he sees the other man relax, a small smile on his face.

Spencer starts to walk toward the door but he’s stopped by the sound of Aaron voice.

“How did you know?” He asks a mix of disbelief and amusement on his face.

“I just did.”

The night he had planned to propose the first time, they’re called away on a case last minute and the disappointment he feels is close to overbearing. Emily notices the moment his face drops after the phone call.

“Are you alright, honey?” She takes his hand over the table they’re sitting at, not even halfway through their main course yet.

“Yeah, but we gotta go, we have a case and it can’t wait until the morning.” He squeezes her hand and musters a smile that he hopes seems genuine.

“You know that’s not why I’m asking.” She stands up and lets him help her with her jacket.

“I just wanted a night with you.” He kisses her softly and then grabs his own coat. “We have to go.”

Dave knows something is wrong almost as quickly as Emily did. Not that he should be surprised, the older man had always been exceptional at reading him. He doesn’t say anything until they’re flying back three days later. It had been three excruciating days, barely any sleep and they were still too late to save a family from the torment of losing a child. So the moment they take off they’re all resting, getting some much-needed sleep. Everyone except Dave and Aaron.

“Want to tell me what’s been bothering you?” Dave sets two glasses of scotch down at the table and then sits across from him at the two-person table in the corner.

“We lost a child and the unsub committed suicide.” He mutters dryly and Dave tilts his head slightly to the side.

“Yeah, it’s a huge loss. But that isn’t what’s been on your mind.” He takes a sip of the amber liquid in his glass, his ice clinking slightly as he does. When Aaron just shakes his head, the older man sighs, but he won’t give up. Then he catches how dark eyes move through the cabin, no doubt seeking out Emily who’s sleeping next to JJ at the four-person table. “So it’s about Emily?”

“Dave, not now.” He tries arguing but he knows the other man well and when all he’s met with is a look of exasperation he sighs heavily. When Dave had a feeling something was wrong, he never could let it go, a trait of his that was annoying as well as comforting. With that thought in mind, Aaron looked around to see if everyone was still asleep and realized that everyone on the plane already knew, except Dave and Emily. “I was going to propose, but we got called in.”

“Oh.” Is all he says and the close to nonchalant attitude makes Aaron slightly irritated. “Then you’ll just try again.”

“How long have you known?” He asks and when Dave leans forward over the table, a kind smile on his face, Aaron takes a sip of his drink.

“That you’ve bought the ring already?  Just found that out. That you’ll marry her someday? Since long before you got together.” He raises his glass in a cheers and then drinks the rest of his scotch.

Aaron realizes that since the whole team already knows, that he should tell Penelope as well, it was only fair. The only problem was, the bubbly blonde couldn’t keep a secret to save her life. So he doesn’t tell her for another few weeks, not until he’s planned the proposal in every detail.

“I’m going to propose to Emily tomorrow night.” He tells her in her office and he’s never been happier that the room was close to soundproof when Penelope screams in excitement.

“Oh my gosh! This is so freaking exciting! Where? How? Tell me everything! Do you have the ring? Oh oh can I see it?” She rambles and Aaron can’t help but to laugh because her enthusiasm was always contagious, but especially today.

“I’m taking her out to dinner at her favorite restaurant, and then after dinner we’ll walk over to the Watergate hotel and have a drink on their rooftop bar, and there with a view of the Potomac I’ll ask her.” He pulls out the ring and while Penelope had been clapping and gasping, she goes silent when she sees the ring.

“This is beautiful. She will love it.” She smiles, tears in her eyes and Aaron finds himself wondering how she’s capable of such genuine joy for the people around her.

“Thank you.” He has barely put the ring back in his pocket before she pulls him into a tight hug.

“I’m so happy for you.”

Emily knows something is up the moment she wakes up. It was a Saturday and they had the weekend off, and yet, Aaron was already out of bed. She hears him in the kitchen, and as she walks towards the clattering of plates she smells coffee and French toast.

“What’s this?” She asks with a smile as she watches the spread of fresh fruit and jams on the table.

“We made you breakfast.” Jack smiles, carrying glasses to the table.

“I see that, what’s the occasion?” She ruffles his hair as he walks by and then goes to stand next to Aaron who’s putting the toast up on plates.

“No occasion, we just thought we’d show you some appreciation today.” He kisses her temple and then she pulls him into a kiss that makes Jack look away in embarrassment.  

“You’re planning something.” She smiles against his lips but he shakes his head no. “Liar.”

The morning is spent together as a family and as the day goes on, Aaron finds himself getting more excited, as well as nervous. After breakfast, Jack headed over to his friend’s house, where he would be spending the night, and Aaron took the opportunity to show Emily just how much he loved her.

They spent the day together, just enjoying each other and relaxing until Emily needed to start getting ready to go out. While she was showering, he placed the bouquet of flowers he had bought her on the bed and then cleaned up around the apartment until he too, needed to get ready.

She had tried to get it out of him all day, had even bribed Jack with comic books but the 9-year-old had refused with a toothy grin. When she gets out of the shower she sees the flowers, huge red roses with a small card attached that she’s careful to pick up.

I love you, now and forever.

As she reads the words she feels her stomach knotting in excitement. They hadn’t talked much about marriage, not in any detail at least, because it was unspoken between them that they wanted to spend the rest of their lives together. She didn’t need the ring or a wedding, but as she reread the note, she realized that she wanted it. Suddenly this day made sense. She smells the roses, a smile on her face that she can’t seem to control.

The smile doesn’t leave her face even as she gets dressed, choosing a dark blue dress she knows Aaron loves and then does her make up. When she comes out of their bedroom he’s already waiting for her.

“These are beautiful.” She tells him and holds the flowers up before moving to the kitchen to put them in water.

“Not as beautiful as you. But nothing is.” He hugs her from behind, his lips lingering against her neck and she shivers from his proximity.

“You’re so cheesy.” She turns her head enough to kiss him and he hums into it.

“Only sometimes.” He lets go of her and takes her hand. “Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah.”

The food is amazing, it always was and Emily enjoyed every second of it. They talked easily, they always had and in between bites of steak and sips of wine they enjoyed spending time together. It had been a while since they had a whole day to just be together, to enjoy each other.

“It was so good.” She sighs happily as they walk hand in hand after dinner. The streets were busy, a Saturday night never dull in DC and Aaron keeps her close as they make their way toward the hotel.

“It really was.” He smiled and let go of her hand, only to wrap his arm around her shoulders. “Are you cold?”

“No, I’m perfect.” She smiled and let him lead the way. Once they were in the elevator she pulled him into a kiss. “This whole day has been incredible.”

“Good.” He stamped another kiss to her lips just as the elevator doors opened and they were led to a table. They ordered their drinks and as Emily looked out at the view, he couldn’t help but to marvel at just of beautiful she was, how happy she made him.

And then it hit him.

Emily wouldn’t want something grand, she hated being the center of attention and saying yes with a bunch of people around them didn’t feel right. He had been so focused on getting the day perfect, that he forgot to think about what suited them. It’s a split-second decision, but as the glasses of champagne are placed in front of them, he knows he doesn’t want to propose like this. It didn’t feel right.

But it wouldn’t stop him from enjoying this night with her.

“Cheers, sweetheart.” He picks up his flute and waits until she has too. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” She feels her cheek flush from excitement, she knew that any moment he would pull out a ring. But then it didn’t happen and as Aaron paid the bill a couple of hours later she was feeling embarrassed that she had even thought that he would propose.

She didn’t want to show her disappointment, didn’t want him to think that she hadn’t enjoyed their day or that she didn’t appreciate the effort he had put into it, because she did. Still, she was painfully reminded that her ring finger was empty when he took her hand as they waited for a cab.

“Are you okay sweetheart?” Aaron asked, she had gotten quieter, her smile seeming a little less bright as they were heading home.

“I’m alright, just a little tired I guess.” She leaned her head on his shoulder for a couple of seconds before a car rolled up and they got in.

“Are you sure?” He asked as they started to drive off and she nodded, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“I’m sure honey.”

But her mood doesn’t go back to how happy she had been, in fact she seemed sad. It doesn’t take Aaron long to figure out why, he realized that she had probably figured out his plan sometime during the day and he refused to have their day end on anything else but a high.

“How about some tea?” He asked as they walk through the door and she nods.

“Yeah that sounds good, just let me get changed.” She quickly goes to change and remove her makeup and while she does, Aaron gets changed too and puts the kettle on. He pours the water once it’s done and grabs the tea bags. He sets the mugs down on the coffee table, then grabs a rose from the bouquet and places that and the ring box next to her mug. She comes out just as he sits down, face free of makeup, her hair in a messy ponytail and of his shirts on her body.

“Thank you.” She mumbles and takes the mug as she sits close to him, her hand resting on his thigh.

“You’re welcome sweetheart.” He smiles at how she doesn’t see it at first, is actually surprised at just how long it takes her to notice the box on the table in front of her. But when she does, her whole body tenses.

“Is that…?” She looks from the box to him and back and slowly reaches for it. When she opens the box it still takes her a couple of seconds before she gasps. “Aaron are you kidding me?!” She starts to laugh, unable to control it in the midst of everything she’s feeling. “I waited all night and you chose now to ask me?!”

“Yes,” He takes the box from her and takes the ring out as he faces her. “I had today planned out, but I realized that having this moment with you, alone, would be even more special than anything else.” When he looks into her eyes they’re shining with tears and he can feel his own emotions starting to get the best of him.

“Emily, will you marry me?” His voice shakes slightly, thick with emotions and she’s nodding before he’s even finished his sentence.

“Yes, of course I will.” She swallows down a sound somewhere between a sob and a laugh and when he places the ring on her finger she barely waits until it’s on before she lunges herself at him, kissing him deeply.

*

“How do you think it’s going? Should we call them?” Penelope asks, close to vibrating in place as she sits next to Spencer on JJ’s couch.

“No, we are not calling them.” Dave stares the blonde down who pouts.

“What if she said no?” Derek teases and JJ immediately hits him on the shoulder hard enough for him to wince. “I was kidding, easy!

“They might not even tell us until Monday.” Spencer shrugs and then avoids the pillow Penelope throws at him.

“I made him promise to text-”

The sudden ding of five phones going off at the same time interrupts her and all of them quickly looks at their phones. The cheers around the room are almost loud enough to wake up Henry when they see the text message with the attached photo of Emily holding her hand up, showing off the ring.

Aaron: She said yes!

[sleeplesslionheart]

The Haunting of Bly Manor as Allegory: Self-Sacrifice, Grief, and Queer Representation

As always, I am extremely late with my fandom infatuations—this time, I’m about three years late getting smitten with Dani and Jamie from The Haunting of Bly Manor.

Because of my lateness, I’ll confess from the start that I’m largely unfamiliar with the fandom’s output: whether fanfiction, interpretations, analyses, discourse, what have you. I’ve dabbled around a bit, but haven’t seen anything near the extent of the discussions that may or may not have happened in the wake of the show’s release, so I apologize if I’m re-treading already well-trod ground or otherwise making observations that’ve already been made. Even so, I’m completely stuck on Dani/Jamie right now and have some thoughts that I want to compose and work through.

This analysis concerns the show’s concluding episode in particular, so please be aware that it contains heavy, detailed spoilers for the ending, as well as the show in its entirety. Additionally, as a major trigger warning: this essay contains explicit references to suicide and suicidal ideation, so please tread cautiously. (These are triggers for me, and I did, in fact, manage to trigger myself while writing this—but this was also very therapeutic to write, so those triggering moments wound up also being some healing opportunities for me. But definitely take care of yourself while reading this, okay?).

After finishing Bly and necessarily being destroyed by the ending, staying up until 2:00 a.m. crying, re-watching scenes on Youtube, so on and so forth, I came away from the show (as others have before me) feeling like its ending functioned fairly well as an allegory for loving and being in a romantic partnership with someone who suffers from severe mental illness, grief, and trauma.

Without going too deeply into my own personal backstory, I want to provide some opening context, which I think will help to show why this interpretation matters to me and how I’m making sense of it.

Like many of Bly’s characters, I’ve experienced catastrophic grief and loss in my own life. A few years ago, my brother died in some horrific circumstances (which you can probably guess at if you read between the lines here), leaving me traumatized and with severe problems with my mental health. When it happened, I was engaged to a man (it was back when I thought I was straight (lol), so I’ve also found Dani’s comphet backstory to be incredibly relatable…but more on this later) who quickly tired of my grieving. Just a few months after my brother’s death, my then-fiancé started saying things like “I wish you’d just go back to normal, the way you were” and “I’ve gotten back on-track and am just waiting for you to get back on-track with me,” apparently without any understanding that my old “normal” was completely gone and was never coming back. He saw my panic attacks as threatening and unreasonable, often resorting to yelling at me to stop instead of trying to comfort me. He complained that he felt like I hadn’t reciprocated the care that he’d provided me in the immediate aftermath of my brother’s loss, and that he needed me to set aside my grief (and “heal from it”) so that he could be the center of my attention. Although this was not the sole cause, all of it laid the groundwork for our eventual breakup. It was as though my trauma and mourning had ruined the innocent happiness of his own life, and he didn’t want to deal with it anymore.

Given this, I was powerfully struck by the ways that Jamie handles Dani’s trauma: accepting and supporting her, never shaming her or diminishing her pain.

Early in the show—in their first true interaction with one another, in fact—Jamie finds Dani in the throes of a panic attack. She responds to this with no judgment; instead, she validates Dani’s experiences. To put Dani at ease, she first jokes about her own “endless well of deep, inconsolable tears,” before then offering more serious words of encouragement about how well Dani is dealing with the circumstances at Bly. Later, when Dani confesses to seeing apparitions of Peter and Edmund, Jamie doesn’t pathologize this, doubt it, or demean it, but accepts it with a sincere question about whether Dani’s ex-fiancé is with them at that moment—followed by another effort to comfort Dani with some joking (this time, a light-hearted threat at Edmund to back off) and more affirmations of Dani’s strength in the face of it all.

All of this isn’t to say, however, that Dani’s grief-driven behaviors don’t also hurt Jamie (or, more generally, that grieving folks don’t also do things that hurt their loved ones). When Dani recoils from their first kiss because of another guilt-inspired vision of Eddie, Jamie is clearly hurt and disappointed; still, Jamie doesn’t hold this against Dani, as she instead tries to take responsibility for it herself. A week later, though, Jamie strongly indicates that she needed that time to be alone in the aftermath and that she is wary that Dani’s pattern of withdrawing from her every time they start to get closer will continue to happen. Nonetheless, it’s important to note that this contributes to Dani’s recognition that she’s been allowing her guilt about Eddie’s death to become all-consuming, preventing her from acting on her own desires to be with Jamie. That recognition, in turn, leads Dani to decide to move through her grief and beyond her guilt. Once she’s alone later in the evening after that first kiss, Dani casts Eddie’s glasses into the bonfire’s lingering embers; she faces off with his specter for a final time, and after burning away his shadow, her visions of him finally cease. When she and Jamie reunite during their 6:00 a.m. terrible coffee visit, Dani acknowledges that the way that she and Jamie left things was “wrong,” and she actively tries to take steps to “do something right” by inviting Jamie out for a drink at the village pub…which, of course, just so happens to be right below Jamie’s flat. (Victoria Pedretti’s expressions in that scene are so good).

Before we continue, though, let’s pause here a moment to consider some crucial factors in all of this. First, there is a significant difference between “moving through one’s grief” and simply discarding it…or being pressured by someone else to discard it. Second, there is also a significant difference between “moving through one’s grief” and allowing one’s grief to become all-consuming. Keep these distinctions in mind as we go on.

Ultimately, the resolution of the show’s core supernatural conflict involves Dani inviting Viola’s ghost to inhabit her, which Viola accepts. This frees the other spirits who have been caught in Bly Manor’s “gravity well,” even as it dooms Dani to eventually be overtaken by Viola and her rage. Jamie, however, offers to stay with Dani while she waits for this “beast in the jungle” to claim her. The show’s final episode shows the two of them going on to forge a life together, opening a flower shop in a cute town in Vermont, enjoying years of domestic bliss, and later getting married (in what capacities they can—more on this soon), all while remaining acutely aware of the inevitability of Dani’s demise.

The allegorical potentials of this concluding narrative scenario are fairly flexible. It is possible, for instance, to interpret Dani’s “beast in the jungle” as chronic (and/or terminal) illness—in particular, there’re some harrowing readings that we could do in relation to degenerative neurological diseases associated with aging (e.g. dementia, Alzheimer’s, Parkinson’s, progressive supranuclear palsy, etc.), especially if we put the final episode into conversation with the show’s earlier subplot about the death of Owen’s mother, its recurring themes of memory loss as a form of death (or, even, as something worse than death), and Jamie’s resonant remarks that she would rather be “put out of her misery” than let herself be “worn away a little bit every day.” For the purposes of this analysis, though, I’m primarily concerned with interpreting Viola’s lurking presence in Dani’s psyche as a stand-in for severe grief, trauma, and mental illness. …Because, even as we may “move through” grief and trauma, and even as we may work to heal from them, they never just go away completely—they’re always lurking around, waiting to resurface. (In fact, the final minutes of the last episode feature a conversation between older Jamie and Flora about contending with this inevitable recurrence of grief). Therapy can give us tools to negotiate and live with them, of course; but that doesn’t mean that they’re not still present in our lives. The tools that therapy provides are meant to help us manage those inevitable resurfacings in healthy ways. But they are not meant to return us to some pre-grief or pre-trauma state of “normality” or to make them magically dissipate into the ether, never to return. And, even with plenty of therapy and with healthy coping mechanisms, we can still experience significant mental health issues in the wake of catastrophic grief, loss, and trauma; therapy doesn’t totally preclude that possibility.

In light of my own experiences with personal tragedy, crumbling mental health, and the dissolution of a romantic partnership with someone who couldn’t accept the presence of grief in my life, I was immediately enamored with the ways that Jamie approaches the enduring aftereffects of Dani’s trauma during the show’s final episode. Jamie never once pressures Dani to just be “normal.” She never once issues any judgment about what Dani is experiencing. At those times when Dani’s grief and trauma do resurface—when the beast in the jungle catches up with her—Jamie is there to console her, often with the strategies that have always worked in their relationship: gentle, playful ribbing and words of affirmation. There are instances in which Dani doesn’t emote joyfulness during events that we might otherwise expect her to—consider, for instance, how somber Dani appears in the proposal scene, in contrast to Jamie’s smiles and laughter. (In the year after my brother’s death, my ex-fiancé and his family would observe that I seemed gloomy in situations that they thought should be fun and exciting. “Then why aren’t you smiling?” they’d ask, even when I tried to assure them that I was having a good time, but just couldn’t completely feel that or express it in the ways that I might’ve in the past). Dani even comments on an inability to feel that is all too reminiscent of the blunting of emotions that can happen in the wake of acute trauma: “It’s like I see you in front of me and I feel you touching me, and every day we’re living our lives, and I’m aware of that. But it’s like I don’t feel it all the way.” But throughout all of this (and in contrast to my own experiences with my ex), Jamie attempts to ground Dani without ever invalidating what she’s experiencing. When Dani tells her that she can’t feel, Jamie assures her, “If you can’t feel anything, then I’ll feel everything for the both of us.”

A few days after I finished the show for the first time, I gushed to a friend about how taken I was with the whole thing. Jamie was just so…not what I had experienced in my own life. I loved witnessing a representation of such a supportive and understanding partner, especially within the context of a sapphic romance. After breaking up with my own ex-fiancé, I’ve since come to terms with my sexuality and am still processing through the roles that compulsory heterosexuality and internalized homophobia have played in my life; so Dani and Jamie’s relationship has been incredibly meaningful for me to see for so, so many reasons.

“I’m glad you found the show so relatable,” my friend told me. “But,” she cautioned, “don’t lose sight of what Dani does in that relationship.” Then, she pointed out something that I hadn’t considered at all. Although Jamie may model the possibilities of a supportive partnership, Dani’s tragic death espouses a very different and very troubling perspective: the poisonous belief that I’m inevitably going to hurt my partner with my grief and trauma, so I need to leave them before I can inflict that harm on them.

Indeed, this is a deeply engrained belief that I hold about myself. While I harbor a great deal of anger at my ex-fiancé for how he treated me, there’s also still a part of me that sincerely believes that I nearly ruined his and his family’s lives by bringing such immense devastation and darkness into it. On my bad days (which are many), I have strong convictions about this in relation to my future romantic prospects as well. How could anyone ever want to be with me? I wonder. And even if someone eventually does try to be with me, all I’ll do is ruin her life with all my trauma and sadness. I shouldn’t even want to be with anyone, because I don’t want to hurt someone else. I don’t want someone else to deal with what I’ve had to deal with. I even think about this, too, with my friends. Since my brother’s death and my breakup, I’ve gone through even more trauma, pain, grief, and loss, such that now I continue to struggle enormously with issues like anhedonia, emotional fragility, and social anxiety. I worry, consequently, that I’m just a burden on my friends. That I’m too hard to be around. That being around me, with all of my pain and perpetual misfortune, just causes my friends pain, too. That they’re better off not having to deal with me at all. I could spare them all, I think, by just letting them go, by not bothering them anymore.

I suspect that this is why I didn’t notice any issues with Dani’s behavior at the end of Bly Manor at first. Well…that and the fact that the reality of the show’s conclusion is immensely triggering for me. Probably, my attention just kind of slid past the truth of it in favor of indulging in the catharsis of a sad gay romance.

But after my friend observed this issue, I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

I realized, then, that I hadn’t extended the allegory out to its necessary conclusion…which is that Dani has, in effect, committed suicide in order to—or so she believes, at least—protect Jamie from her. This is the case regardless of whether we keep Viola’s ghost in the mix as an actual, tangible, existing threat within the show’s diegesis or as a figurative symbol of the ways that other forces can “haunt” us to the point of our own self-destruction. If the former, then Dani’s suicide (or the more gentle and elusive description that I’ve seen: her act of “giving herself to the lake”) is to prevent Viola’s ghost from ever harming Jamie. But if the latter, if we continue doing the work of allegorical readings, then it’s possible to interpret Bly’s conclusion as the tragedy of Dani ultimately succumbing to her mental illness and suicidal ideation.

The problems with this allegory’s import really start cropping up, however, when we consider the ways that the show valorizes Dani’s actions as an expression of ultimate, self-sacrificing love—a valorization that Bly accomplishes, in particular, through its sustained contrasting of love and possession.

The Implications of Idealizing Self-Sacrifice as True Love

During a pivotal conversation in one of the show’s early episodes, Dani and Jamie discuss the “wrong kind of love” that existed between Rebecca Jessel and Peter Quint. Jamie remarks on how she “understands why so many people mix up love and possession,” thereby characterizing Rebecca and Peter’s romance as a matter of possession—as well as hinting, perhaps, that Jamie herself has had experiences with this in her own past. After considering for a moment, Dani agrees: “People do, don’t they? Mix up love and possession. […] I don’t think that should be possible. I mean, they’re opposites, really, love and ownership.” We can already tell from this scene that Dani and Jamie are, themselves, heading towards a burgeoning romance—and that this contrast between love and possession (and their self-awareness of it) is going to become a defining feature of that romance.

Indeed, the show takes great pains to emphasize the genuine love that exists between Dani and Jamie against the damaging drive for possession enacted by characters like Peter (who consistently manipulates Rebecca and kills her to keep her ghost with him) and Viola (who has killed numerous people and trapped their souls at Bly over the centuries in a long since forgotten effort to reclaim her life with her husband and daughter from Perdita, her murderously jealous sister). These contrasts take multiple forms and emerge from multiple angles, all to establish that Dani and Jamie’s love is uniquely safe, caring, healing, mutually supportive, and built on a foundation of prevailing concern for the other’s wellbeing. Some of these contrasts are subtle and understated. Consider, for instance, how Hannah observes that Rebecca looks like she hasn’t slept in days because of the turmoil of her entanglements with Peter, whereas Jamie’s narration describes how Dani gets the best sleep of her life during the first night that she and Jamie spend together. Note, too, the editing work in Episode 6 that fades in and out between the memories of the destructive ramifications of Henry and Charlotte’s affair and the scenes of tender progression in Dani and Jamie’s romance. Other contrasts, though, are far more overt. Of course, one of the most blatant examples (and most pertinent to this analysis) is the very fact that the ghosts of Viola, Peter, and Rebecca are striving to reclaim the people they love and the lives that they’ve lost by literally possessing the bodies and existences of the living.

The role of consent is an important factor in these ghostly possessions and serves as a further contrast with Dani and Jamie’s relationship. Peter and Rebecca frequently possess Miles and Flora without their consent—at times, even, when the children explicitly tell them to stop or, at the very least, to provide them with warnings beforehand. While inhabiting the children, Peter and Rebecca go on to harm them and put them at risk (e.g. Peter smokes cigarettes while in Miles’s body; Rebecca leaves Flora alone and unconscious on the grounds outside the manor) and to commit acts of violence against others (e.g. Peter pushes Hannah into the well, killing her; Peter and Rebecca together attack Dani and restrain her). The “It’s you, it’s me, it’s us,” conceit—with which living people can invite Bly’s ghosts to possess them, the mechanism by which Dani breaks the curse of Bly’s gravity well—is a case of dubious consent at best and abusive, violent control at worst. (“I didn’t agree,” Rebecca says after Peter leaves her body, releasing his “invited” possession of her at the very moment that the lake’s waters start to fill her lungs).

Against these selfish possessions and wrong kinds of love, Jamie and Dani’s love is defined by their selfless refusal to possess one another. A key characteristic of their courtship involves them expressing vulnerability in ways that invite the other to make their own decisions about whether to accept and how to proceed (or not proceed). As we discussed earlier, Dani and Jamie’s first kiss happens after Dani opens up about her guilt surrounding her ex-fiancé’s death. Pausing that kiss, Jamie checks, “You sure?” and only continues after Dani answers with a spoken yes. (Let’s also take this moment to appreciate Amelia Eve’s excellent, whispered “Thank fuck,” that isn’t included in Netflix’s subtitles). Even so, Dani frantically breaks away from her just moments later. But Jamie accepts this and doesn’t push Dani to continue, believing, in fact, that Dani has withdrawn precisely because Jamie has pushed too much already. A week later, Dani takes the initiative to advance their budding romance by inviting Jamie out for a drink—which Jamie accepts by, instead, taking Dani to see her blooming moonflowers that very evening. There, in her own moment of vulnerability, Jamie shares her heart-wrenching and tumultuous backstory with Dani in order to “skip to the end” and spare Dani the effort of getting to know her. By openly sharing these difficult details about herself, Jamie evidently intends to provide Dani with information that would help her decide for herself whether she wants to continue their relationship or not.

Their shared refusal to possess reaches its ultimate culmination in that moment, all those years later, when Dani discovers just how close she’s come to strangling Jamie—and then leaves their home to travel all the way back to Bly and drown herself in the lake because she could “not risk her most important thing, her most important person.” Upon waking to find that Dani has left, Jamie immediately sets off to follow her back to Bly. And in an absolutely heartbreaking, beautiful scene, we see Jamie attempting the “you, me, us,” invitation, desperate for Dani to possess her, for Dani to take Jamie with her. (Y’all, I know I’m critiquing this scene right now, but I also fuckin’ love it, okay? Ugh. The sight of Jamie screaming into the water and helplessly grasping for Dani is gonna stay with me forever. brb while I go cry about it again). Dani, of course, refuses this plea. Because “Dani wouldn’t. Dani would never.” Further emphasizing the nobility of Dani’s actions, Jamie’s narration also reveals that Dani’s self-sacrificial death has not only spared Jamie alone, but has also enabled Dani to take the place of the Lady of the Lake and thereby ensure that no one else can be taken and possessed by Viola’s gravity well ever again.

And so we have the show’s ennoblement of Dani’s magnanimous self-sacrifice. By inviting Viola to possess her, drowning herself to keep from harming Jamie, and then refusing to possess Jamie or anyone else, Dani has effectively saved everyone: the children, the restive souls that have been trapped at Bly, anyone else who may ever come to Bly in the future, and the woman she loves most. Dani has also, then, broken the perpetuation of Bly’s cycles of possession and trauma with her selfless expression of love for Jamie.

The unfortunate effect of all of this is that, quite without meaning to (I think? I hope—), The Haunting of Bly Manor ends up stumbling headlong into a validation of suicide as a selfless act of true love, as a force of protection and salvation.

So, before we proceed, I just want to take this moment to say—definitively, emphatically, as someone who has survived and experienced firsthand the ineffably catastrophic consequences of suicide—that suicide is nothing remotely resembling a selfless “refusal to possess” or an act of love. I’m not going to harp extensively on this, though, because I’d rather not trigger myself for a second time (so far, lol) while writing this essay. Just take my fuckin’ word for it. And before anybody tries to hit me with some excuse like “But Squall, it isn’t that the show is valorizing suicide, it’s that Dani is literally protecting Jamie from Viola,” please consider that I’ve already discussed how the show’s depiction of this lent itself to my own noxious beliefs that “all I do is harm other people with my grief, so maybe I should stop talking to my friends so that they don’t have to deal with me anymore.” Please consider what these narrative details and their allegorical import might tell people who are struggling with their mental health—even if not with suicidal ideation, then with the notion that they should self-sacrificially remove themselves from relationships for the sake of sparing loved ones from (assumed) harm.

Okay, that said, now let’s proceed…‘cause I’ve got even more to say, ‘cause the more I mulled over these details, the more I also came to realize that Dani’s self-sacrificial death in Bly’s conclusion also has the unfortunate effect of undermining some of its other (attempted) themes and its queer representation.

What Bly Manor Tries (and Fails) to Say about Grief and Acceptance

Let’s start by jumping back to a theme we’ve already addressed briefly: moving through one’s grief.

The Haunting of Bly Manor does, in fact, have a lot to say about this. Or…it wants to, more like. On the whole, it seems like it’s trying really hard to give us a cautionary tale about the destructive effects of unprocessed grief and the misplaced guilt that we can wind up carrying around when someone we love dies. The show spends a whole lot of time preaching about how important it is that we learn to accept our losses without allowing them to totally consume us—or without lingering around in denial about them (gettin’ some Kübler-Ross in here, y’all). Sadly, though, it does kind of a half-assed job of it…despite the fact that this is a major recurring theme and a component of the characterizations and storylines of, like, most of its characters. In fact, this fundamentally Kübler-Rossian understanding of what it means to move through grief and to accept loss and mortality appears to be the show’s guiding framework. During his rehearsal dinner speech in the first episode, Owen proclaims that, “To truly love another person is to accept that the work of loving them is worth the pain of losing them,” with such eerie resonance—as the camera stays set on Jamie’s unwavering gaze—that we know that what we’re about to experience is a story about accepting the inevitable losses of the people we love.

Bly Manor is chock full of characters who’re stuck in earlier stages of grief but aren’t really moving along to reach that acceptance stage. I mean, the whole cause of the main supernatural haunting is that Viola so ferociously refuses to accept her death and move on from her rage (brought about by Perdita’s resentment) that she spends centuries strangling whoever she comes across, which then effectively traps them there with her. And the other antagonistic ghostly forces, Rebecca and Peter, also obviously suck at accepting their own deaths, given that they actually believe that possessing two children is a perfectly fine (and splendid) way for them to grasp at some semblance of life again. (Actually…the more that I’ve thought about this, the more that I think each of the pre-acceptance stages of grief in Kübler-Ross’s model may even have a corresponding character to represent it: Hannah is denial; Viola is anger; Peter and Rebecca are bargaining; Henry is depression. Just a little something to chew on).

But let’s talk more at-length about this theme in relation to two characters we haven’t focused on yet: Hannah and Henry. For Hannah, this theme shows up in her struggles to accept that her husband, Sam, has left her (Charlotte wryly burns candles in the chapel as though marking his passing, while Hannah seems to be holding out hope that he might return) and in her persistent denial that Peter-as-Miles has killed her. As a ghost, she determinedly continues going about her daily life and chores even as she’s progressively losing her grip on reality. Henry, meanwhile, won’t issue official notifications of Dominic’s death and continues to collect his mail because doing otherwise would mean admitting to the true finality of Dominic’s loss. At the same time, he is so, completely consumed by his guilt about the role that he believes he played in Charlotte and Dominic’s deaths that he’s haunting himself with an evil alter-ego. His overriding guilt and despair also result in his refusal to be more present in Miles and Flora’s lives—even with the knowledge that Flora is actually his daughter.

In the end, both Hannah and Henry reach some critical moments of acceptance. But, honestly, the show doesn’t do a great job of bringing home this theme of move through your grief with either of them…or with anybody else, really. Peter basically winds up bullying Hannah into recognizing that her broken body is still at the bottom of the well—and then she accepts her own death right in time to make a completely abortive attempt at rescuing Dani and Flora. Henry finally has a preternatural Bad Feeling about things (something about a phone being disconnected? whose phone? Bly’s phone? his phone? I don’t understand), snaps to attention, and rushes to Bly right in time to make an equally abortive rescue attempt that leaves him incapacitated so that his not-quite-ghost can hang out with Hannah long enough to find out that she’s dead. But at least he decides to be an attentive uncle/dad to Miles and Flora after that, I guess. Otherwise, Hannah and Henry get handwaved away pretty quickly before we can really witness what their acceptance means for them in any meaningful detail. (I blame this on some sloppy writing and the way-too-long, all-about-Viola eighth episode. And, on that note, what about the “acceptances” of Rebecca, Peter, and Viola there at the end? Rebecca does get an interesting moment of acceptance—of a sort—with her offer to possess Flora in order to experience Flora’s imminent drowning for her, thereby sparing the child by tucking her in a happy memory. Peter just…disappears at the end with some way-too-late words of apology. Viola’s “acceptance,” however, is tricky…What she accepts is Dani’s invitation to inhabit her. More on this later).

Hannah and Henry’s stories appear to be part of the show’s efforts to warn us about the ways that unprocessed, all-consuming grief can cause us to miss opportunities to have meaningful relationships with others. Hannah doesn’t just miss her chance to be with Owen because…well, she’s dead, but also because of her unwillingness to move on from Sam beforehand. Her denial about her own death, in turn, prevents her from taking the opportunity as a ghost to tell Owen that she loves him. Henry, at least, does figure out that he’s about to lose his chance to be a caring parental figure to his daughter and nephew—but just barely. It takes the near-deaths of him and the children to finally prompt that realization.

Of the cast, Dani gets the most thorough and intentional development of this move through your grief theme. And, importantly, she learns this lesson in time to cultivate a meaningful relationship that she could’ve easily missed out on otherwise. As we’ve already discussed, a critical part of Dani’s character arc involves her realization that she has to directly confront Edmund’s death and start absolving herself of her guilt in order to open up the possibility of a romantic relationship with Jamie. In Episode 4, Jamie’s narration suggests that Dani has had a habit of putting off such difficult processes (whether in regards to moving through her grief, breaking off her engagement to Edmund, or coming to terms with her sexuality), as she’s been constantly deferring to “another night, another time for years and years.” Indeed, the show’s early episodes are largely devoted to showing the consequences of Dani’s deferrals and avoidances. From the very beginning, we see just how intrusively Dani’s unresolved guilt is impacting her daily life and functioning. She covers up mirrors to try to prevent herself from encountering Edmund’s haunting visage, yet still spots him in the reflections of windows and polished surfaces. Panic attacks seem to be regular occurrences for her, sparked by reminders of him. And all of this only gets worse and more disruptive as Dani starts acting on her attraction to Jamie.

It's only after Dani decides to begin moving through her grief and guilt that she’s able to start becoming emotionally and physically intimate with Jamie. And the major turning point for this comes during a scene that features a direct, explicit discussion of the importance of accepting (and even embracing) mortality.

That’s right—it’s time to talk about the moonflower scene.

In a very “I am extremely fed up with people not being able to deal with my traumatic past, so I’m going to tell you about all of the shit that I’ve been through so that you can go ahead and decide whether you want to bolt right now instead of just dropping me later on” move (which…legit, Jamie—I feel that), Jamie sits Dani down at her moonflower patch to give her the full rundown of her own personal backstory and worldview. Her monologue evinces both a profound cynicism and a profound valuation of human life…all of which is also suggestive, to me at least, of a traumatized person who at once desperately wishes for intimate connection, but who’s also been burned way too many times (something with which I am wholly unfamiliar, lol). She characterizes people as “exhaustive effort with very little to show for it,” only to go on to wax poetic about how human mortality is as beautiful as the ephemeral buds of a moonflower. This is, in essence, Jamie’s sorta convoluted way of articulating that whole “To truly love another person is to accept that the work of loving them is worth the pain of losing them” idea.

After detailing her own past, Jamie shifts gears to suggest that she believes that cultivating a relationship with Dani—like the devoted work of growing a tropical, transient Ipomoea alba in England—might be worth the effort. And as part of this cultivation work, Jamie then acknowledges Dani’s struggles with her guilt, while also firmly encouraging her to move through it by accepting the beauty of mortality:  

“I know you’re carrying this guilt around, but I also know that you don’t decide who lives and who doesn’t. I’m sorry Dani, but you don’t. Humans are organic. It’s a fact. We’re meant to die. It’s natural…beautiful. […] We leave more life behind to take our place. Like this moonflower. It’s where all its beauty lies, you know. In the mortality of the thing.”

After that, Jamie and Dani are finally able to make out unimpeded.

Frustratingly, though, Jamie’s own dealings with grief, loss, and trauma remain terribly understated throughout the show. Her monologue in the moonflower scene is really the most insight that we ever get. Jamie consistently comes off as better equipped to contend with life’s hardships than many of Bly’s other characters; and she is, in fact, the sole member of the cast who is confirmed to have ever had any sort of professional therapy. She regularly demonstrates a remarkable sense of empathy and emotional awareness, able to pick up on others’ needs and then support them accordingly, though often in gruff, tough-love forms. Further, there are numerous scenes in which we see Jamie bestowing incisive guidance for handling difficult situations: the moonflower scene, her advice to Rebecca about contacting Henry after Peter’s disappearance, and her suggestion to Dani that Flora needs to see a psychologist, to name just a few. As such, Jamie appears to have—or, at least, projects—a sort of unflappable groundedness that sets her apart from everyone else in the show.

Bly only suggests that Jamie’s struggles run far deeper than she lets on. There are a few times that we witness quick-tempered outbursts (usually provoked by Miles) and hints of bottled-up rage. Lest we forget, although it was Flora who first found Rebecca’s dead body floating in the water, it was Jamie who then found them both immediately thereafter. We see this happen, but we never learn anything about the impact that this must have had on her. Indeed, Jamie’s exposure to the layered, compounding grief at Bly has no doubt inflicted a great deal of pain on her, suggested by details like her memorialization of Charlotte and Dominic during the bonfire scene. If we look past her flippancy, there must be more than a few grains of truth to that endless well of deep, inconsolable tears—but Jamie never actually shares what they might be. Moreover, although the moonflower scene reveals the complex traumas of her past, we never get any follow-up or elaboration about those details or Dani’s observation of the scar on her shoulder. For the most part, Jamie’s grief goes unspoken.

There’s a case to be made that these omissions are a byproduct of narrator Jamie decentering herself in a story whose primary focus is Dani. Narrator Jamie even claims that the story she’s telling “isn’t really my story. It belongs to someone I knew” (yes, it’s a diversionary tactic to keep us from learning her identity too soon—but she also means it). And in plenty of respects, the telling of the story is, itself, Jamie’s extended expression of her grief. By engaging in this act of oral storytelling to share Dani’s sacrifice with others—especially with those who would have otherwise forgotten—Jamie is performing an important ritual of mourning her wife. Still, it’s for exactly these reasons that I think it would’ve been valuable for the show to include more about the impacts that grief, loss, and trauma had on Jamie prior to Dani’s death. Jamie’s underdevelopment on this front feels more like a disappointing oversight of the show’s writing than her narrator self’s intentional, careful withholding of information. Additionally, I think that Bly leaves Jamie’s grieving on an…odd note (though, yes, I know I’m just a curmudgeonly outlier here). Those saccharine final moments of Jamie filling up the bathtub and sleeping on a chair so that she can face the cracked doorway are a little too heavy-handedly tear-jerking for my liking. And while this, too, may be a ritual of mourning after the undoubtedly taxing effort of telling Dani’s story, it may also suggest that Jamie is demurring her own acceptance of Dani’s death. Is the hand on her shoulder really Dani’s ghost? Or is it Jamie’s own hopeful fabrication that her wife’s spirit is watching over her? (Or—to counter my own point here and suggest a different alternative—could this latter idea (i.e. the imagining of Dani’s ghost) also be another valid manner of “accepting” a loss by preserving a loved one’s presence? “Dead doesn’t mean gone,” after all. …Anyway, maybe I would be more charitable to this scene if not for the hokey, totally out-of-place song. Coulda done without that, seriously).

But let’s jump back to the moonflower scene. For Dani, this marks an important moment in the progression of her own movement through grief. In combination, her newfound readiness to contend with her guilt and her eagerness to grow closer to Jamie enable Dani to find a sense of peace that she hasn’t experienced since Eddie’s death…or maybe ever, really (hang on to this thought for this essay’s final section, too). When she and Jamie sleep together for the first time, not only does Dani actually sleep well, but she also wakes the next morning to do something that she hasn’t done to that point and won’t do again: she comfortably looks into a mirror. (One small qualification to this: Dani does look into her own reflection at the diner when she and Jamie are on their road trip; Viola doesn’t interfere then, but whether this is actually a comfortable moment is questionable). Then, shifting her gaze away from her own reflection, she sees Jamie still sleeping soundly in her bed—and smiles. It’s a fleeting moment of peace. Immediately after that, she spots Flora out the window, which throws everything back into accumulating turmoil. But that moment of peace, however fleeting, is still a powerful one.

However, Bly teases this narrative about the possibilities of finding healing in the wake of traumatic loss—especially through the cultivation of meaningful and supportive relationships with others—only to then totally pull that rug out from under Dani in the final episode.

During that final episode, we see that Dani’s shared life with Jamie has supported her in coming to terms with Viola’s lurking presence, such that “at long last, deep within the au pair’s heart, there was peace. And that peace held for years, which is more than some of us ever get.” But it’s at the exact moment that that line of narration occurs that we then begin to witness Dani’s steady, inexorable decline. Sure, we could say that Dani “accepts” Viola’s intrusions and the unavoidable eventuality that the ghost will seize control of her. But this isn’t a healthy acceptance or even a depiction of the fraught relationships that we can have with grief and trauma as we continue to process them throughout our lives. At all. Instead, it’s a distinctive, destructive sense of fatalism.

“I’m not even scared of her anymore,” Dani tells Jamie as the flooded bathtub spills around them. “I just stare at her and it's getting harder and harder to see me. Maybe I should just accept that. Maybe I should just accept that and go.” Remember way back at the beginning of this essay when I pointed out that there’s a significant difference between “moving through one’s grief” and allowing one’s grief to become all-consuming? Well, by the time we reach the bathtub scene, Dani’s grief and trauma have completely overtaken her. Her “acceptance” is, thus, a fatalistic, catastrophizing determination that her trauma defines her existence, such that she believes that all she has left to do is give up her life in order to protect Jamie from her. For a less ghostly (and less suicidal ideation-y) and more real-life example to illustrate what I’m getting at here: this would be like me saying “I should just accept that I’m never going to be anything other than a traumatized mess and should stop reaching out to my friends so that I don’t keep hurting them by making them deal with what a mess I am.” If I said something like this, I suspect (hope) that you would tell me that this is not a productive acceptance, but a pernicious narrative that only hurts me and the people who care about me. Sadly, though, this kind of pernicious narrative is exactly what we get out of Bly’s ending allegory.

“But Squall,” you may be thinking, “this scene is representing how people who struggle with their mental health can actually feel. This is exactly what it can be like to have severe mental illness, even for folks who have strong support systems and healthy, meaningful relationships. And there’s value in showing that.”

And if you’re thinking that, then first of all—as I have indicated already—I am aware that this is what it can be like. Very aware. And second of all, you make a fair point, but…there are ways that the show could’ve represented this without concluding that representation with a suicide that it effectively valorizes. I’ll contend with this more in the final section, where I offer a few suggestions of other ways that Bly could’ve ended instead.

I just want to be absolutely clear that I’m not saying that I think all media portrayals of mental illness need to be hopeful or wholesome or end in “positive” ways. But what I am saying is that Bly’s conclusion offers a really fuckin’ bleak outlook on grief, trauma, and mental illness, especially when we fit that ending into the framework of the show’s other (attempted) core themes, as well as Dani’s earlier character development. It’s especially bleak to see this as someone with severe mental health issues and who has also lost a loved one to suicide—and as someone who desperately hopes that my life and worldview won’t always stay so darkly colored by my trauma.

Additionally, it’s also worth pausing here to acknowledge that fatalism is, in fact, a major theme of The Beast in the Jungle, the 1903 Henry James novella on which the ninth episode is loosely based. I confess that I’ve only read about this novella, but haven’t read the story itself. However, based on my (admittedly limited) understanding of it, there appears to be a significant thematic rupture between The Beast in the Jungle and The Haunting of Bly Manor in their treatments of fatalism. In the end of the novella, its protagonist, John Marcher, comes to the realization that his fatalism has been a horrible mistake that has caused him to completely miss out on an opportunity for love that was right in front of him all along. The tragic fate to which Marcher believed that he was doomed was, in the end, his own fatalism. Dani, in contrast, never has this moment of recognition, not only because her fatalism leads to her own death, but also because the show treats her fatalism not as something that keeps her from love, but instead as leading her towards a definitive act of love.

All of this is exactly why Dani’s portrayal has become so damn concerning to me, and why I don’t believe that Bly’s allegory of “this is what it’s like to live with mental illness and/or to love (and lose) someone who is mentally ill” is somehow value-neutral—or, worse, something worth celebrating.

How Dani’s Self-Sacrifice Bears on Bly’s Queer Representation

In my dabblings around the fandom so far, I’ve seen a fair amount of deliberation about whether or not Bly Manor’s ending constitutes an example of the Bury Your Gays trope.

Honestly, though, I am super unenthused about rehashing those deliberations or splitting hairs trying to give some definitive “yes it is” or “no it isn’t” answer, so…I’m just not going to. Instead, I’m going to offer up some further observations about how Dani’s self-sacrificial death impinges on Bly’s queer representation, regardless of whether Bury Your Gays is at work here or not.

I would also like to humbly submit that the show could’ve just…not fucked around in proximity of that trope in the first place so that we wouldn’t even need to be having these conversations.

But anyway. I’m going to start this section off with a disclaimer.

Even though I’m leveling some pretty fierce critiques in this section (and across this essay), I do also want to say that I adore that The Haunting of Bly Manor and its creators gave us a narrative that centers two queer women and their romantic relationship as its driving forces and that intentionally sets out to portray the healing potentials of sapphic love as a contrast to the destructive, coercive harms found in many conventional dynamics of hegemonic heteronormativity. I don’t want to downplay that, because I’m extremely happy that this show exists, and I sincerely believe that many elements of its representation are potent and meaningful and amazing. But…I also have some reservations with this portrayal that I want to share. I critique not because I don’t love, but because I do love. I love this show a lot. I love Dani and Jamie a lot. I critique because I love and because I want more and better in future media.

So, that being said…let’s move on to talk about Dani, self-sacrifice, and compulsory heterosexuality.

Well before Dani’s ennobled death, Bly establishes self-sacrifice as a core component of her characterization. It’s hardwired into her, no doubt due to the relentless, entangled educational work of compulsory heterosexuality (comphet) and the aggressive forms of socialization that tell girls and women that their roles in life are to sacrifice themselves in order to please others and to belong to men. Indeed, Episode 4’s series of flashbacks emphasizes the interconnectedness between comphet and Dani’s beliefs that she is supposed to sacrifice herself for others’ sakes, revealing how these forces have shaped who she is and the decisions that she’s made across her life. (While we’re at it, let’s also not lose sight of the fact that Dani’s profession during this time period is one that—in American culture, at least—has come to rely on a distinctively feminized self-sacrificiality in order to function. Prior to becoming an au pair, Dani was a schoolteacher. In fact, in one of Episode 4’s flashbacks, Eddie’s mother points out that she appreciates Dani’s knack for identifying the kids that need her the most, but also reminds Dani that she needs to take care of herself…which suggests that Dani hadn’t been: “Save them all if you can, but put your own oxygen mask on first”).

In the flashback of her engagement party, Dani’s visible discomfort during Edmund’s speech clues us in that she wasn’t preparing to marry him because she genuinely wanted to, but because she felt like she was supposed to. The “childhood sweethearts” narrative bears down on the couple, celebrated by their friends and family, vaunted by cultural constructs that prize this life trajectory as a cherished, “happily ever after” ideal. Further illustrating the pressures to which Dani had been subject, the same scene shows Eddie’s mother, Judy O’Mara, presenting Dani with her own wedding dress and asking Dani to wear it when she marries Eddie. Despite Mrs. O’Mara’s assurances that Dani can say no, the hopes that she heaps onto Dani make abundantly clear that anything other than a yes would disappoint her. Later, another flashback shows Dani having that dress sized and fitted while her mother and Mrs. O’Mara look on and chatter about their own weddings and marriages. Their conversation is imbued with further hopes that Dani’s marriage to Edmund will improve on the mistakes that they made in their lives. Meanwhile, Dani’s attentiveness to the tailor who takes her measurements, compliments her body, and places a hand on her back strongly suggests that Dani is suppressing her attraction to women. Though brief, this scene is a weighty demonstration of the ways that the enclosures of heteronormativity constrain women into believing that their only option is to deny homosexual attraction, to forfeit their own desires in order to remain in relationships with men, and to prioritize the hopes and dreams and aspirations of the people around them above their own.

Dani followed this pathway—determined for her by everyone else except herself—until she couldn’t anymore.

During the flashback of their breakup, Dani explains to Eddie that she didn’t end their relationship sooner because she thought that even just having desires that didn’t match his and his family’s was selfish of her: “I should’ve said something sooner. […] I didn’t want to hurt you, or your mom, or your family. And then it was just what we were doing. […] I just thought I was being selfish, that I could just stick it out, and eventually I would feel how I was supposed to.” As happens to so many women, Dani was on the cusp of sacrificing her life for the sake of “sticking out” a marriage to a man, all because she so deeply believed that it was her duty to satisfy everyone’s expectations of her and that it was her responsibility to change her own feelings about that plight.

And Eddie’s response to this is telling. “Fuck you, Danielle,” he says. “Why are you doing this to me?”

Pay close attention to those last two words. Underline ‘em. Bold ‘em. Italicize ‘em.

“Why are you doing this to me?”

With those two words, Eddie indicates that he views Dani’s refusal to marry him as something that she is doing to him, a harm that she is committing against him. It is as though Dani is inflicting her will on him, or even that she is unjustly attackinghim by finally admitting that her desires run contrary to his own, that she doesn’t want to be his wife. And with this statement, he confirms precisely what she anticipated would happen upon giving voice to her true feelings.

What space did Edmund, his family, or Dani’s mother ever grant for Dani to have aspirations of her own that weren’t towards the preordained role of Eddie’s future wife? Let’s jump back to that engagement party. Eddie’s entire speech reveals a very longstanding assumption of his claim over her as his wife-to-be. He’d first asked Dani to marry him when they were ten years old, after he mistakenly believed that their first kiss could get Dani pregnant; Dani turned him down then, saying that they were too young. So, over the years, as they got older, Eddie continued to repeatedly ask her—until, presumably, she relented. “Now, we’re still pretty young,” he remarks as he concludes his speech, “but I think we’re old enough to know what we want.” Significantly, Eddie speaks here not just for himself, but also for Dani. Dani’s voice throughout the entire party is notably absent, as Eddie and his mother both impose their own wishes on her, assume that she wants what they want, and don’t really open any possibility for her to say otherwise. Moreover, although there’s a palpable awkwardness that accompanies Eddie’s story, the crowd at the party chuckles along as though it’s a sweet, innocent tale of lifelong love and devotion, and not an instance of a man whittling away at a woman’s resistance until she finally caved to his pursuit of her.

All of this suggests that Eddie shared in the socialized convictions of heteropatriarchy, according to which Dani’s purpose and destiny were to marry him and to make him happy. His patterns of behavior evince the unquestioned presumptions of so many men: that women exist in service to them and their wants, such that it is utterly inconceivable that women could possibly desire otherwise. As a political institution, heteropatriarchy tells men that they are entitled to women’s existences, bodies, futures. And, indeed, Eddie can’t seem to even imagine that Dani could ever want anything other than the future that he has mapped out for them. (Oh, hey look, we’ve got some love vs. possession going on here again).

For what it’s worth, I think that the show’s portrayal of compulsory heterosexuality is excellent. I love that the writers decided to tackle this. Like I mentioned at the beginning, I found all of this to be extremelyrelatable. I might even be accused of over-relating and projecting my own experiences onto my readings here, but…there were just too many resonances between Dani’s experiences and my own. Mrs. O’Mara’s advice to Dani to “put your own oxygen mask on first” is all too reminiscent of the ways that my ex’s parents would encourage me to “heal” from my brother’s loss…but not for the sake of my own wellbeing, but so that I would return to prioritizing the care of their son and existing to do whatever would make him happy. I’ll also share here that what drove me to break up with my ex-fiancé wasn’t just his unwillingness to contend with my grief, but the fact that he had decided that the best way for me to heal from my loss would be to have a baby. He insisted that I could counteract my brother’s death by “bringing new life into the world.” And he would not take no for an answer. He told me that if I wouldn’t agree to try to have children in the near future, then he wasn’t interested in continuing to stay with me. It took me months to pluck up the courage, but I finally answered this ultimatum by ending our relationship myself. Thus, like Dani, I came very close to sacrificing myself, my wants, my body, my future, and my life for the sake of doing what my fiancé and his family wanted me to do, all while painfully denying my own attraction to women. What kept me from “sticking it out” any longer was that I finally decided that I wasn’t going to sacrifice myself for a man I didn’t love (and who clearly didn’t love me) and decided, instead, to reclaim my own wants and needs away from him.

For Dani, however, the moment that she finally begins to reclaim her wants and needs away from Eddie is also the moment that he furiously jumps out of the driver’s seat and into the path of a passing truck, which leaves her to entangle those events as though his death is her fault for finally asserting herself.

Of course, the guilt that Dani feels for having “caused” Eddie’s death isn’t justa matter of breaking up with him and thereby provoking a reaction that would prove fatal—it’s also the guilt of her suppressed homosexual desire, of not desiring Eddie in the first place. In other words, internalized homophobia is an inextricable layer of the culpability that Dani feels. Internalized homophobia is also what’s haunting her. As others (such as Rowan Ellis, whose deep dive includes a solid discussion of internalized homophobia in Bly, as well as a more at-length examination of Bury Your Gays than I’m providing here) have pointed out, the show highlights this metaphorically by having Dani literally get locked into a closet with Edmund’s ghost in the very first episode. Further reinforcing this idea is the fact that these spectral visions get even worse as Dani starts to come to terms with and act on her attraction to Jamie, as though the ghost is punishing her for her desires. Across Episode 3, as Dani and Jamie begin spending more time together, Edmund’s ghost concurrently begins materializing in more shocking, visceral forms (e.g. his bleeding hand in Dani’s bed; his shadowy figure lurking behind Dani after she’s held Jamie’s hand) that exceed the reflective surfaces to which he’d previously been confined. This continues into Episode 4, where each of Eddie’s appearances follows moments of Dani’s growing closeness to Jamie. A particularly alarming instance occurs when Dani just can’t seem to pry her gaze away from a dressed-up Jamie who’s in the process of some mild undressing. Finally turning away from Jamie, Dani becomes aware of Eddie’s hands on her hips. It’s a violating reminder of his claims over her, horrifying in its invocation of men’s efforts to coerce and control women’s sexuality.

It is incredibly powerful, then, to watch Dani answer all of this by becoming more resolute and assertive in the expression of her wants and needs. The establishment of her romantic relationship with Jamie isn’t just the movement through grief and guilt that we discussed earlier; it’s also Dani’s defiance of compulsory heterosexuality and her fierce claiming of her queer existence. Even in the face of all that’s been haunting her, Dani initiates her first kiss with Jamie; and Eddie’s intrusion in that moment is only enough to temporarily dissuade her, as Dani follows this up by then asking Jamie out for a drink at the pub to “see where that takes them” (i.e. up to Jamie’s flat to bang, obviously). The peace that Dani finds after having sex with Jamie for the first time is, therefore, also the profound fulfillment of at last having her first sexual experience with a woman, of finally giving expression to this critical part of herself that she’d spent her entire life denying. Compulsory heterosexuality had dictated to Dani that she must self-sacrifice to meet the strictures of heteropatriarchy, to please everyone except herself; but in her relationship with Jamie, Dani learns that she doesn’t have to do this at all. This is only bolstered by the fact that, as we’ve talked about at length already, Jamie is very attentive to Dani’s needs and respectful of her boundaries. Jamie doesn’t want Dani to do anything other than what Dani wants to do. And so, in the cultivation of their romantic partnership, Dani thus comes to value her own wants and needs in a way that she hasn’t before.

The fact that the show nails all of this so fucking well is what makes all that comes later so goddamn frustrating.

The final episode chronicles Dani and Jamie forging a queer life together that the rest of us can only dream of, including another scene of Dani flouting homophobia and negotiating her own internal struggles so that she can be with Jamie. “I know we can’t technically get married,” she tells Jamie when she proposes to her, “but I also don’t really care.” And with her awareness that the beast in the jungle is starting to catch up with her, Dani tells Jamie that she wants to spend whatever time she has left with her.

But then…

A few scenes later—along with a jump of a few years later, presumably—Jamie arrives home with the licenses that legally certify their civil union in the state of Vermont. It’s a monumental moment. In 2000, Vermont became the first state to introduce civil unions, which paved the way for it to later (in 2009) become the first state to pass legislation that recognized gay marriages without needing to have a court order mandating that the state extend marriage rights beyond opposite-sex couples. I appreciate that Bly’s creatorsincorporated this significant milestone in the history of American queer rights into the show. But its positioning in the show also fuckin’ sucks. Just as Jamie is announcing the legality of her and Dani’s civil union and declaring that they’ll have another marriage ceremony soon, we see water running into the hallway. This moves us into that scene with the flooded bathtub, as Jamie finds Dani staring into the water, unaware of anything else except the reflection of Viola staring back at her. Thus, it is at the exact moment when her wife proudly shares the news of this incredible achievement in the struggle for queer rights—for which queer folks have long fought and are continuing to fight to protect in the present—that Dani has completely, hopelessly resigned herself to Viola’s possession.

I want to be careful to clarify here that, in making this observation, I don’t mean to posit some sort of “Dani should have fought back against Viola” argument, which—within the context of our allegorical readings—might have the effect of damagingly suggesting that Dani should have fought harder to recover from mental illness or terminal disease. But I do mean to point out the incredibly grim implications that the juxtaposition of these events engenders, especially when we contemplate them (as we did in the previous section) within the overall frameworks of the show’s themes and Dani’s character development. After all that has come before, after we’ve watched Dani come to so boldly assert her queer desire and existence, it is devastating to see the show reduce her to such a despairing state that doesn’t even give her a chance to register that she and Jamie are now legal partners.

Why did you have to do this, Bly? Why?

Further compounding this despair, the next scene features the resumption of Dani’s self-sacrificial beliefs and behaviors, which results in her demise, and which leaves Jamie to suffer through the devastation of her wife’s death. This resumption of self-sacrifice hence demolishes all of that beautiful work of asserting Dani’s queer existence and learning that she doesn’t need to sacrifice herself that I just devoted two thousand words to describing above.

Additionally, in the end, Dani’s noble self-sacrifice also effects a safe recuperation of heteronormativity…which might add more evidence to a Bury Your Gays claim, oops.

And that is because, in the end, after we see Jamie screaming into the water and Dani forever interred at the bottom of the lake in which she drowned herself, we come to the end of Jamie’s story and return to Bly Manor’s frame narrative: Flora’s wedding.

At the start of the show, the evening of Flora and Unnamed Man’s (Wikipedia says his name is James? idk, w/e) rehearsal dinner provides the occasion and impetus for Jamie’s storytelling. Following dinner, Flora, her fiancé, and their guests gather around a fireplace and discuss a ghost story about the venue, a former convent. With a captive audience that includes her primary targets—Flora and Miles, who have forgotten what happened at Bly and, by extension, all that Dani sacrificed and that Jamie lost so that they could live their lives free of the trauma of what transpired—and with a topically relevant conversation already ongoing, Jamie interjects that she has a ghost story of her own to share…and thus, the show’s longer, secondary narrative begins.

When Jamie’s tale winds to a close at the end of the ninth episode, the show returns us to its frame, that scene in front of the cozy, crackling fire. And it is there that we learn that it is, in fact, Jamie who has been telling us this story all along.

As the other guests trickle away, Flora stays behind to talk to Jamie on her own. A critical conversation then ensues between them, which functions not only as Jamie’s shared wisdom to Flora, but also as the show’s attempt to lead viewers through what they’ve just experienced and thereby impart its core message about the secondary narrative. The frame narrative is, thus, also a direct address to the audience that tells us what we should take away from the experience. By this point, the show has thoroughly established that Jamie is a gentle-but-tough-love, knowledgeable, and trustworthy guide through the trials of accepting grief and mortality, and so it is Jamie who leaves Flora and us, the audience, with the show’s final word about how to treasure the people we love while they are still in our lives and how to grieve them if we survive beyond them. (But, by this point in this essay, we’ve also learned that Bly’s messages about grief and mortality are beautiful but also messy and unconvincing, even with this didactic ending moment).

With all of this in mind, we can (and should) ask some additional questions of the frame narrative.

One of those questions is: Why is the secondary narrative being told from/within this particular frame?

Answering this question within the show’s diegesis (by asking it of the narrator) is easy enough. Jamie is performing a memorialization of Dani’s life and sacrifice at an event where her intended audience happens to be gathered, ensuring that Miles and Flora begin to recognize what Dani did for them in a manner that maybe won’t just outright traumatize them.

Okay, sure, yeah. True. Not wrong.

But let’s interrogate this question more deeply—let’s ask it of the show itself. So, Bly Manor: Why is the secondary narrative being told from/within this particular frame?

We could also tweak this question a bit to further consider: What is the purpose of the frame? A frame narrative can function to shape audiences’ interpretations of and attitudes towards the secondary narrative. So, in this case, let’s make our line of questioning even more specific. What does the frame of Flora’s wedding do for Bly’s audiences?

Crucially, the framing scene at the fireplace provides us with a sense that we’ve returned to safety after the horror of the ghost story we’ve just experienced. To further assure us of this safety, then, Bly’s frame aims to restore a sense of normality, a sense that the threat that has provoked fear in us has been neutralized, a sense of hope that endures beyond tragedy. Indeed, as we fade from the secondary narrative and return to the frame, Jamie’s narration emphasizes how Dani’s selfless death has brought peace to Bly Manor by breaking its cycles of violence and trauma: “But she won’t be hollow or empty, and she won’t pull others to her fate. She will merely walk the grounds of Bly, harmless as a dove for all of her days, leaving the only trace of who she once was in the memory of the woman who loved her most.”

What Dani has accomplished with her self-sacrifice, then, is a longstanding, prevailing, expected staple of Western—and especially American—storytelling: redemption.

American media is rife with examples of this narrative formula (in which an individual must take selfless action—which may or may not involve self-sacrificial death—in order to redeem an imperiled community by restoring a threatened order) to an extent that is kind of impossible to overstate. Variations of this formula are everywhere, from film to television to comics to videogames to news reports. It is absolutely fundamental to our cultural understandings of what “heroism” means. And it’s been this way for, umm…a long time, largely thanks to that most foundational figure of Western myth, some guy who was crucified for everybody’s sins or something. (Well, that and the related popularization of Joseph Campbell’s hero’s journey, but…I’m not gonna go off onto a whole rant about that right now, this essay is already too long as it is).

In Bly Manor, the threatened order is the natural process of death itself, which Viola has disrupted with a gravity well that traps souls and keeps them suspended within physical proximity of the manor. Dani’s invitation to Viola is the initial step towards salvation (although, I think it’s important to note that this is not entirely intentional on Dani’s part. Jamie’s narration indicates that Dani didn’t entirely understand what she was doing with the “It’s you, it’s me, it’s us” invitation, so self-sacrifice was not necessarily her initial goal). It nullifies the gravity well and resumes the passage of death, which liberates all of the souls that have been trapped at Bly and also produces additional opportunities for others’ atonements (e.g. Peter’s apology to Miles; Henry’s guardianship of the children). But it’s Dani’s suicide that is the ultimate completion of the redemptive task. It is only by “giving herself to the lake” that Dani is able to definitively dispel Viola’s threat and confer redemptive peace to Bly Manor.

It’s tempting to celebrate this incredibly rare instance of a queer woman in the heroic-redemptive role, given that American media overwhelmingly reserve it for straight men. But I want to strongly advise that we resist this temptation. Frankly, there’s a lot about the conventional heroic-redemptive narrative formula that sucks, and I’d rather that we work to advocate for other kinds of narratives, instead of just championing more “diversity” within this stuffy old model of heroism. Explaining what sucks about this formula is beyond the purview of this essay, though. But my next point might help to illustrate part of why it sucks (spoiler: it’s because it tends to prop up traditional, dominant structures of power and relationality).

So…What I want us to do is entertain the possibility that Dani’s redemptive self-sacrifice might serve specific purposes for straight audiences, especially in the return to the frame at the end.

Across The Haunting of Bly Manor, we’ve seen ample examples of heterosexuality gone awry. The show has repeatedly called our attention to the flaws and failings of heterosexual relationships against the carefully cultivated safety, open communication, and mutual fulfillment of a queer romance between two women. But, while queer audiences may celebrate this about this show, for straight audiences, this whole situation might just wind up producing anxiety instead—as though heterosexuality is also a threatened order within the world of Bly Manor. More generally, asking straight audiences to connect with a queer couple as the show’s main protagonists is an unaccustomed challenge with which they’re not normally tasked; thus, the show risks leaving this dominant viewer base uncomfortable, threatened, and resentful, sitting with the looming question of whether heterosexuality is, itself, redeemable.

In answer to this, Dani’s self-sacrifice provides multiple assurances to straight audiences. To begin with, her assumption of the traditional heroic-redemptive role secures audiences within the familiar confines of that narrative formula, which also then promises that Dani is acting as a protector of threatened status quos and not as another source of peril. What Bly Manor is doing here is, in effect, acknowledging that it may have challenged (and even threatened) straight audiences with its centerpiece of a queer romance—and that, likewise, queers themselves may be challenging the status quos of romantic partnerships by, for instance, demanding marriage rights and improvements in media representations—while also emphatically reassuring those audiences in the wake of that challenge that Dani and Jamie haven’t created and aren’t going to create too much disturbance with their queerness. They’re really not that threatening, Bly swears. They’re harmless as a dove. They’re wholesome. They’re respectable. They—and queer folks more generally—aren’t going to totally upend everything, really. Look, they’ll even sacrifice themselves to save everyone and redeem imperiled communities and threatened orders—even heterosexuality itself!

A critical step towards achieving this assurance is the leveling of the playing field. In order for the show to neutralize the threat of queerness for straight audiences, comfort them with a return to safety, and promise them that heterosexuality is redeemable, the queer women need to have an on-screen tragic end to their relationship just like all of the straight couples have. And so, Dani must die and Jamie must grieve.

That accomplished, the show then immediately returns to the frame, the scene at the fireplace following Flora’s rehearsal dinner.

There—after we’ve witnessed so much queer joy and queer tragedy crammed into this final episode—we see Flora and her fiancé, bride and groom, sitting together, arms linked, taking in all that Jamie has to tell them. And with this warm, idyllic image of impending matrimony between man and wife, the safety to which straight audiences return in the frame is, therefore, also the safety of a heterosexuality that can find its redemption through Dani’s self-sacrifice. Not only does Dani’s death mean that Flora can live (and go on to marry her perfectly bland, unremarkable husband, all without the trauma of what happened at Bly), but it also means that she—and, with her, straight audiences—can ultimately benefit from the lessons about true love, loss, and grieving that Dani’s self-sacrifice and Jamie’s story bestow.

And so, Bly Manor concludes with a valorization of redemptive self-sacrifice and an anodyne recuperation of heteronormativity, bequeathing Flora with the opportunities to have and to hold the experiential knowledge that Dani and Jamie have provided for her. Here, queer tragedy serves up an educational opportunity for heterosexual audiences in a challengingly “inclusive,” but otherwise essentially non-threatening manner. The ending is a gentle, non-traumatizing, yet frank lesson to heterosexual audiences in the same way that Jamie’s story is a gentle, non-traumatizing, yet frank lesson to Flora.

Did the show’s creators intentionally do all of this to set about providing such assurances to straight audiences? Maybe. Maybe not. I don’t really know—or care! But, especially in light of incidents like the recent “Suletta and Miorine’s relationship is up to interpretation” controversy following the Gundam: Witch from Mercury finale, I absolutely do not put it past media corporations and content creators to very intentionally take steps to prioritize the comfort of straight audiences against the threats of queer love. And anyway, intentional or not, all of this still has effects and implications loaded with meaning, as I have tried to account for here.

Honestly, though, I can’t quite shake the feeling that there’s some tension between Jamie, Owen, and maybe also Henry about Jamie’s decision to publicly share Dani’s story in front of Flora and Miles. Owen’s abrupt declaration that it’s getting late and that they should wrap up seems like an intervention—like he’s been as patient and understanding as he possibly could up to that point, but now, he’s finally having to put a stop to Jamie’s deviance. I can’t help but read the meaningful stares that pass between them at both ends of the frame as a complex mixture of compassion and fraught disagreement (and I wish that the show had done more with this). The scene where Dani and Jamie visit Owen at his restaurant seems to set up the potential for this unspoken dispute. By their expressions and mannerisms (Dani’s stony stare; the protective way that Jamie holds her as her own gaze is locked on Dani), it’s clear that Dani and Jamie are aghast that Flora and Miles have forgotten what happened and that Owen believes that they should just be able to live their lives without that knowledge. And it’s also clear, by her very telling of Dani’s story, that Jamie disagrees with him. Maybe I’m over-imposing my own attitudes here, but I’m left with the impression that Jamie resents the coddling of Miles and Flora just like I’m resenting the coddling of straight audiences…that Jamie resents that she and Dani have had to give up everything so that Miles and Flora can continue living their privileged lives just like I’m resenting the exploitation of queer tragedy for the sake preserving straight innocence. (As Jamie says to Hannah when Dani puts the children to work in the garden: “You can’t give them a pass forever.” Disclaimer: I’m not saying that I want Miles and Flora to be traumatized, but I am saying that I agree with Jamie, because hiding traumatic shit is not how to resolve inter-generational trauma. Anyway—).

Also, I don’t know about y’all, but I find Flora and Jamie’s concluding conversation to be super cringe. Maybe it’s because I’m gay and just have way too much firsthand experience with this sort of thing from my own comphet past, but Flora’s whole “I just keep thinking about that silly, gorgeous, insane man I’m marrying tomorrow. I love him. More than I ever thought I could love anybody. And the crazy thing is, he loves me the same exact amount,” spiel just absolutely screams “woman who is having to do all of the emotional work in her relationship with an absolutely dull, mediocre, emotionally illiterate man and is desperately trying to convince herself that he does, in fact, love her as much as she (believes) that she loves him.”

I feel like this is a parody of straightness?? Is this actually sincere??

This is what Dani gave up her life to redeem??

To me, this is just more bleak shit that Bly leaves us with. It is so painful to watch.

Bless.

Okay, so I know that I said that I wasn’t going to offer a definitive yes or no about whether Bly commits Bury Your Gays with Dani’s death, but…after writing all of this out, I’m honestly kinda leaning towards a yes.

But I’m already anticipating that folks are gonna push back against me on this. So I just want to humbly submit, again, that Bly could have just not done this. It could have just not portrayed Dani’s death at all.

To really drive this point home, then, I’m going to conclude this essay by suggesting just a few ways that The Haunting of Bly Manor could have ended without Dani’s self-sacrificial death—or without depicting her death on-screen at all.

Bly Manor Could Have Ended Differently

Mike Flanagan—creator, director, writer, editor, executive producer, showrunner, etc. of The Haunting of Bly Manor—has stated that he believes that the show’s ending is a happy one.

I, on the other hand, believe that Bly’s ending is…not. In my view, the way that the ending treats Dani is unnecessarily cruel and exploitative. “Happy ending”—really? If I let myself be cynical about it (which I do), I honestly think that Dani’s death is a pretty damn transparent effort to squeeze out some tears with a sloppy, mawkish, feel-good veneer slapped over it. And if we peel back that veneer and look under it, what we find is quite bleak.

To be fair, for a psychological horror show that’s so centrally about grief and trauma, Bly Manor does seem to profess an incredibly strong sense of hopefulness. Underlying the entirety of the show is a profound faith in all the good and beauty that can come from human connection, however fleeting our lives may be—and even if we make a ton of dumb, awful mistakes along the way. If I’m being less cynical about it, I do also think that the show’s ending strives to demonstrate a peak expression of this conviction. But—at least in my opinion—it doesn’t succeed in this goal. In my writing of this essay, I’ve come to believe that the show instead ends in a state of despair that is at odds with what it appears to want to achieve.

So, in this final section, I’m going to offer up a few possibilities for ways that the show could have ended that maybe wouldn’t have so thoroughly undermined its own attempted messages.

Now, if I were actually going to fix the ending of The Haunting of Bly Manor, I would honestly overhaul a ton of the show to arrive at something completely different. But I’m not going to go through all the trouble of rewriting the entire show here, lol. Instead, I’m going to work with most of what’s already there, leading out from Viola’s possession of Dani (even though I don’t actually like that part of the show either – maybe someday I’ll write about other implications of Viola’s possession of Dani beyond these allegorical readings, but not right now). I’m also going to try to adhere to some of the show’s core themes and build on some of the allegorical possibilities that are already in place. Granted, the ideas that I pose here wouldn’t fix everything, by any stretch of the imagination; but they would, at least (I hope), mitigate some of the issues that I’ve outlined over the course of this essay. And one way or another, I hope that they’ll help to demonstrate that Dani’s self-sacrificial death was completely unnecessary. (Seriously, just not including Dani’s death would’ve enabled the show to completely dodge the question of Bury Your Gays and would’ve otherwise gone a long way towards avoiding the problems with the show’s queer representation).

So, here's how this is going to work. First, I’m going to pose a few general, guiding questions before then proposing an overarching thematic modification that expands on an idea that’s already prominent across the show. This will then serve as the groundwork for two alternative scenarios. I’m not going to go super into detail with either of these alternatives; mostly, I just want to demonstrate that the show that could’ve easily replaced the situation leading to Dani drowning herself. (For the record, I also think that the show could’ve benefitted from having at least one additional episode—and from some timing and pacing restructuring otherwise. So, before anybody tries an excuse like “but this wouldn’t fit into the last episode,” I want to urge that we imagine these possibilities beyond that limitation).

Let’s start off by returning to a point that I raised in the earlier conversation about grief and acceptance: the trickiness of Viola’s “acceptance.”

What Viola “accepts” in the end aren’t her losses or her own mortality, but Dani’s desperate, last-ditch-effort invitation to inhabit her. Within the show’s extant ending, Viola never actually comes to any kind of acceptance otherwise. Dani’s suicide effectively forces her dissolution, eradicating her persistent presence through the redemptive power of self-sacrifice. But in all of my viewings of the show and in all of my efforts to think through and write about it, there’s a question that’s been bugging me to no end: Why does Viola accept Dani’s invitation in the first place?

We know that Peter figured out the “it’s you, it’s me, it’s us” trick in his desperation to return to some form of life and to leave the grounds of Bly Manor. But…what is the appeal of it for Viola? How do her own motivations factor into it? For so long, Viola’s soul has been tenaciously persisting at Bly all so that she can repeatedly return to the physical locus of her connection with her husband and daughter, their shared bedroom in the manor. She’s done this for so long that she no longer even remembers why she’s doing it—she just goes back there to grab whatever child she can find and strangles whoever happens to get in her way. So what would compel her to accept Dani’s invitation? What does she get out of it—and what does she want out of it? What does her acceptance mean? And why, then, does her acceptance result in the dissipation of the gravity well?

We can conjecture, certainly. But the show doesn’t actually provide answers to these questions. Indeed, one of the other major criticisms that I have of Bly is that it confines all of Viola’s development to the eighth episode alone. I really think that it needed to have done way more to characterize her threat and at least gestureat her history sooner, rather than leaving it all to that penultimate episode, interrupting and drawing out the exact moment when she’s about to kill Dani. (Like, after centuries of Viola indiscriminately killing people, and with so many ghosts that’ve been loitering around for so long because of that, wouldn’t Bly Manor have rampant ghost stories floating around about it by the time Dani arrives? But there’s only one minor suggestion of that possibility: Henry indicating that he might’ve met a soldier ghost once. That’s it. And on that note, all of the ghosts at the manor needed to have had more screentime and development, really). Further, it’s disappointing that the show devotes that entire eighth episode to accounting for Viola’s motivations, only to then reduce her to Big, Bad, Unspeakable Evil in the final episode, with no rhyme or reason for what she’s doing, all so that she can necessitate Dani’s death.

As we continue pondering these unanswered questions, there’s also another issue that I want to raise, which the show abandons only as an oblique, obscure consideration. And that is: How the hell did Jamie acquire all that extensive knowledge about Viola, the ghosts of the manor, and all that happened, such that she is able to tell Bly’sstory in such rich detail? My own sort of headcanon answer to this is that Viola’s possession of Dani somehow enabled Viola to regain some of her own memories—as well as, perhaps, a more extended, yet also limited awareness of the enduring consciousnesses of the other ghosts—while also, in turn, giving Dani access to them, too. Dani then could have divulged what she learned to Jamie, which would account for how Jamie knows so much. I bring this up because it provides one possible response to the question of “What does Viola get out of her possession of Dani?” (especially given the significant weight that the show places on the retention of one’s memories—more on this in a moment) and because this is an important basis for both of my proposed alternative scenarios.

Before we dig into those alternative scenarios, however, there’s also a thematic modification that I want to suggest, which would help to provide another answer to “What does Viola get out of her possession of Dani?” while also alleviating the issues that lead into the valorization of Dani’s suicide. That thematic modification involves how the show defines love. Although Bly’s sustained contrasts between love and possession have some valuable elements, I think that the ending would’ve benefitted from downplaying the love vs. possession theme (which is where we run into so much trouble with Dani’s self-sacrifice, and which has also resulted in some celebratory conflations between “selflessness” and self-sacrifice that I’ve seen crop up in commentary about the show—but, y’all, self-sacrifice is not something to celebrate in romantic partnerships, so please, please be careful idolizing that) to instead play up a different theme: the idea that love is the experience of feeling such safety and security with another person that we can find opportunities for peace by being with them.

Seeking peace—and people with whom to feel safe enough to share traumas and experience peace—is a theme that already runs rampant across the show, so this modification is really just a matter of accentuating it differently. It’s also closely linked to the moving through grief theme that we’ve already discussed at length, as numerous characters in Bly express desires for solitude with loved ones as a way of finding relief and healing from their pain, grief, and trauma. (And I suspect that I latched onto this because I have desperately wanted peace, calm, and stillness in the midst of my own acute, compounding traumas…and because my own former romantic partner was obviously not someone with whom I felt safe enough to experience the kind of peace that would’ve allowed me to begin the process of healing).

We run into this idea early in the development of Jamie and Dani’s romance, as narrator Jamie explains in the scene leading up to their first kiss, “The au pair was tired. She’d been tired for so long. Yet without even realizing she was doing it, she found herself taking her own advice that she’d given to Miles. She’d chosen someone to keep close to her that she could feel tired around.” Following this moment, at the beginning of Episode 5, narrator Jamie then foregrounds Hannah’s search for peace (“The housekeeper knew, more than most, that deep experience was never peaceful. And because she knew this ever since she’d first called Bly home, she would always find her way back to peace within her daily routine, and it had always worked”), which calls our attention to the ways that Hannah has been retreating into her memory of her first meeting with Owen as a crucial site of peace against the shock of her own death. Grown-up Flora even gushes about “that easy silence you only get with your forever person who loves you as much as you love them” when she’s getting all teary at Jamie about her husband-to-be.

Of course, this theme is already actively at work in the show’s conclusion as well. During her “beast in the jungle” monologue, Dani tells Jamie that she feels Viola “in here. It’s so quiet…it’s so quiet. She’s in here. And this part of her that’s in here, it isn’t…peaceful.” As such, Viola’s whole entire issue is that, after all those centuries, she has not only refused to accept her own death, but she’s likewise never been at peace—she’s still not at peace. Against Viola’s unpeaceful presence, however, Dani does find peace in her life with Jamie…at least temporarily, until Viola’s continued refusal of peace leads to Dani’s self-destructive sense of fatalism. Still, in her replacement of Viola as the new Lady of the Lake, Dani exists as a prevailing force of peace (she’s “harmless as a dove”); however, incidentally, she only accomplishes this through the decidedly non-peaceful, violent act of taking her own life.

But…what if that hadn’t been the case?

What if, instead, the peace that Dani finds in her beautiful, queer, non-self-sacrificing existence with Jamie had also enabled Viola to find some sense of peace of her own? What if, through her inhabitation of Dani, Viola managed to, like…calm the fuck down some? What if Dani’s safety and solitude worked to at least somewhat assuage Viola’s rage—and even guide her towards some other form of acceptance?

Depending on how this developed, the show could’ve borne out the potential for a much more subversive conclusion than what we actually got. Rather than All-Consuming-Evil Viola’s forced dissolution through the violence of Dani’s redemptive self-sacrifice (and its attendant recuperation of heteronormativity), we could’ve instead had the makings of a narrative about sapphic love as a source of healing that’s capable of breaking cycles of violence and trauma. And I think that it would’ve been possible for the show to accomplish this without a purely “happy” ending in which everything was just magically fine, and all the trauma dissipated, and there were no problems in the world ever again. The show could have, in fact, managed this while preserving the allegorical possibilities of Viola’s presence as mental and/or terminal illness.

But, before I can start describing how this could’ve happened, there’s one last little outstanding problem that I need to address. In the video essay that I cited earlier, Rowan Ellis suggests that there are limitations to the “Viola as a stand-in for mental/terminal illness” reading of the show because of the fact that Dani invites Viola into herself and, therefore, willingly brings on her own suffering. But I don’t think that this is quite the case or that it interferes with these allegorical readings. As I’ve already mentioned at various points, Dani doesn’t entirely understand the implications of what she’s doing when she issues her invitation to Viola; and even so, the invitation is still a matter of a dubious consent that evidently cannot be withdrawn once initially granted—at the absolute most generous characterization. Dani’s invitation is a snap decision, a frantic attempt to save Flora after everyone and everything else has failed. Consequently, we don’t necessarily have to construe Viola’s presence in Dani’s life as a matter of Dani “willingly inviting her own suffering,” but can instead understand it as the wounds and traumas that persist after Dani has risked her life to rescue Flora. In this way, the show could have also challenged the traditional heroic-redemptive narrative formula by offering a more explicit commentary on the all-too-often unseen ramifications of selflessly “heroic” actions (instead of just heedlessly perpetuating their glorification and, with them, self-sacrifice). Dani may have saved Flora—but at what cost to herself? What long-term toll might this lasting trauma exact on her?

And with that, we move into my two alternative ending scenarios.

Alternative Ending 1: Progressive Memory Loss

Memory and its loss are such significant themes in Bly Manor that theycould use an essay all their own.

I am, however, going to refrain from writing such an essay at this moment in time (I’m already super tired from writing this one, lol).

Still, the first of my alternative scenarios would bring these major themes full-circle—and would make Jamie eat her words.

In this alternative scenario, Viola would find some sense of peace—even if fraught and, at times, tumultuous—in her possession of Dani. As her rage subsides, she is even able to regain fragmented pieces of her own memory, which Dani is also able to experience. The restoration of Viola’s memory, albeit vague and scattered, leads Dani to try to learn even more about Viola’s history at Bly in an effort to at least partially fill in the gaps. As time goes on, though, Viola’s co-habitation within Dani’s consciousness leads to the steady degradation of Dani’s own memory. The reclamation of Viola’s memories would occur, then, concomitant with a steady erosion of both herself and Dani. Thus, Dani would still undergo an inexorable decline across the show’s ending, but one more explicitly akin to degenerative neurological diseases associated with aging, accentuating the “Viola as terminal illness” allegory while also still carrying resonances of the residual reverberations of trauma (given that memory loss is often a common consequence of acute trauma). Jamie would take on the role of Dani’s caregiver, mirroring and more directly illuminating the role that Owen plays for his mother earlier in the show. By the show’s conclusion, Dani would still be alive, including during the course of the frame narrative.

I mentioned earlier in this essay that I’ve endured even more trauma and grief since my brother’s death and since my breakup with my ex-fiancé. So, I’ll share another piece of it with you now: shortly after my breakup, my dad was diagnosed with one of those degenerative neurological diseases that I listed way back at the very beginning. I moved home not only to get away from my ex, but also to become a caregiver. In the time that I’ve been home, I’ve had no choice but to behold my dad’s continuous, irreversible decline and his indescribable suffering. He has further health issues, including a form of cancer. As a result, he now harbors a sense of fatalism that he’ll never be able to reconcile—he does not have the cognitive capacities to address his despair or turn it into some other form of acceptance. He is merely, in essence, awaiting his death. Hence, fatalism is something that I have had to “accept” as a regular component of my own life. (In light of this situation, you may be wondering if I have thoughts and opinions on medical aid in dying, given all that I have had to say so far about fatalism and suicide. And the answer is yes, I do have thoughts and opinions…but they are complex, and I don’t really want to try to account for them here).

Indeed, I live in a suspended, indefinite state of grieving. Day in and day out, I watch my father perish before my eyes, anticipating the blow of fresh grief that will strike when he dies. I watch my mother’s grief. I watch my father’s grief. He forgets about the symptoms of his disease; he looks up his disease to try to learn about it; he re-discovers his inevitable demise anew; the grieving process restarts again. (“She would wake, she would walk, she would forget […] and she would fade and fade and fade”).

What, then, does acceptance look like when grief is so ongoing and so protracted?

What does acceptance look like in the absence of any possibility of acceptance?

Kübler-Ross’s “five stages of grief” model has been a meaningful guide for countless folks in their efforts to navigate grief and loss. Yet, the model has also been subject to a great deal of critique. Critics have accused the model of, among other things, suggesting that grieving is a linear process, whereby a person moves from one stage to the next and then ends conclusively at acceptance (when grieving is, in fact, an incredibly uneven, nonlinear, and inconclusive process). Relatedly, they have also called attention to the fact that the model commonly gets used prescriptively in ways that usher grieving folks towards the end goal of acceptance and cast judgment on those who do not reach that stage. These are criticisms that I would level at Bly’s application of Kübler-Ross as well. Earlier, we thoroughly covered the show’sissues with grief and acceptance as major themes; but in addition to those issues, Bly alsotends to steer its characters towards abrupt endpoints of acceptance, while doling out punishments to those who “refuse” to accept. At root, there are normative ascriptions at work in the show’s very characterization of deferred acceptance as refusal and acceptance itself as an active choice that one has to make.

This alternative ending, then, would have the potential to challenge and complicate the show’s handling of grief by approaching Jamie’s grieving and Dani’s fatalism from very different angles. As Dani’s caregiver, Jamie would encounter and negotiate grief in ongoing and processual ways, which would continue to evolve as her wife’s condition worsens and her caregiving responsibilities mount, thereby lending new layers of meaning to the message that “To truly love another person is to accept that the work of loving them is worth the pain of losing them.” Dani’s fatalism here could also serve as a different interpretation of James’s Beast in the Jungle; perhaps her sense of fatalism ebbs and flows, morphs and contorts along with the progression of her memory loss as she anticipates the gradual whittling-away of her selfhood—or even forgets that inevitability entirely. Still a tragic, heart-rending ending to the show, this scenario may not have the dramatic force of Jamie screaming into the waters of the lake, but it would be a relatable depiction of the ways that many real-life romances conclude. (And, having witnessed the extent of my mom’s ongoing caregiving for my dad, lemme tell ya: if y’all really want a portrayal of selflessness in romantic partnerships, I can think of nothing more selfless than caring for one’s terminally ill partner across their gradual death).

Additionally, this scenario could allow the show to maintain the frame narrative, while also packing fresh complexities into it.

Perhaps, in this case, Dani is still alive, but Jamie has come to Flora’s wedding alone, leaving Dani with in-home caregivers or within assisted living or some such. She comes there determined to ensure that Miles and Flora regain at least some awareness of what Dani did for them—that they remember her. The act of telling Dani’s story, then, becomes not only the performance of a mourning ritual, but also a vital way of preserving and perpetuating Dani’s memory where both the children and Dani, herself, can no longer remember. To be sure, such purposes already compel Jamie’s storytelling in the show: Narrator Jamie indicates that the new Lady of the Lake will eventually lose her recollection of the life she had with the gardener, “leaving the only trace of who she once was in the memory of the woman who loved her most.” But in the context of a conclusion so focused on memory loss, this statement would take on new dimensions of import. In this way, the frame narrative might also more forcefully prompt us, the audience, to reflect on the waysthat we can carry on the memories of our loved ones by telling their stories—and also, maybe, the responsibilities that we may have to do so. “Almost no one even remembers how she was when her mind hadn’t gone,” Jamie remarks after returning from Owen’s mother’s funeral, a subtle indictment of just how easily we can lose our own memories of those who suffer from conditions like dementia—how easily we can fail to carry on the stories of the people they were before and to keep their memories alive. (“We are all just stories in the end,” Olivia Crain emphasizes during the eulogy for Shirl’s kitten in The Haunting of Hill House. In fact, there’re some interesting comparative analyses we could do about storytelling and the responsibilities incumbent on storytellers between these two Flanagan shows).

Along those lines, I think that this would’ve been an excellent opportunity for the show to exacerbate and foreground those latent tensions between Jamie and Owen (and maybe also Henry) about whether to share Dani’s story with the now-adult children.

In the show’s explorations of memory loss, there’re already some interesting but largely neglected undercurrents churning around about the idea that maybe losing one’s memory isn’t just a curse or a heartbreaking misfortune (as it is for Viola, the ghosts of Bly Manor, and Owen’s mother), but can, in certain circumstances, be a blessing. Bly implies—via Owen and the frame narrative—that Miles and Flora have been able to flourish in their lives because they have forgotten what happened at Bly and still remain blissfully unaware of it…which, to be clear, is only possible because of the sacrifices that Dani and Jamie have made. But this situation raises, and leaves floating there, a bunch of questions about the responsibilities we have to impart traumatic histories to younger generations—whether interpersonally (e.g. within families) or societally (e.g. in history classrooms). Cycles of trauma don’t end by shielding younger generations from the past; they especially don’t end by forcing impacted, oppressed, traumatized populations (e.g. queer folks) to shoulder the burdens of trauma on their own for the sake of protecting another population’s innocent ignorance. But how do we impart traumatic histories? How do we do so responsibly, compassionately, in ways that respect those harrowing pasts—and those who lived them, those most directly impacted by them—without actively causing harm to receiving audiences? On the other hand, if we over-privilege the innocence of those who have forgotten or those who weren’t directly impacted, what do we lose and what do we risk by not having frank, open conversations about traumatic histories?

As it stands, I think that Bly is remiss in the way it tosses out these issues, but never actually does anything with them. It could have done much, much more. In this alternate ending, then, there could be some productive disagreement among Jamie, Owen, and Henry about whether to tell Flora and Miles, what to tell them, how to tell them. Perhaps, in her seizing of the conversation and her launching of the story in such a public way, Jamie has taken matters into her own hands and has done so in a way that Owen and Henry can’t easily derail. Perhaps Owen sympathizes but does, indeed, abruptly cut her off just before her audience can completely connect the dots. Perhaps Henry is conflicted and doesn’t take a stand—or perhaps he does. Perhaps we find out that Henry had been torn about whether to even invite Jamie because of the possibility of something like this happening. Or, perhaps Henry wants the children to know and believes that they should hear Dani’s story from Jamie. Perhaps we see scenes of past quarrels between Jamie and Owen, Owen and Henry. Perhaps, once the story has ended, we see a brief aftermath conversation between Owen and Jamie about what Jamie has done, their speculations about how it may impact Miles and Flora. Perhaps the show presents these conversations in ways that challenge us to reflect on them, even if it does not provide conclusive answers to the questions it raises, and even if it leaves these conflicts open-ended, largely unresolved.

Alternative Ending 2: Living with the Trauma

If Bly’s creators had wanted Viola’s inhabitation of Dani to represent the ongoing struggles of living—and loving someone—with severe mental illness and trauma, they could have also just…done that? Like, they could have just portrayed Jamie and Dani living their lives together and dealing with Viola along the way. They could have just let that be it. It wouldn’t have been necessary to include Dani’s death within the show’s depicted timeline at all.

The show could’ve more closely aligned its treatment of Dani’s fatalism with James’s Beast in the Jungle—but with, perhaps, a bit more of a hopeful spin. Perhaps, early on, Dani is convinced that her demise is imminent and incontrovertible, much as we already see in the final episode’s diner scene. For a while, this outlook continues to dominate her existence in ways that interfere with her daily functioning and her relationship with Jamie. Perhaps there’s an equivalent of the flooded bathtub scene, but it happens much earlier in the progression of their partnership: Dani despairs, and Jamie is there to reinforce her commitment to staying with Dani through it all, much like her extant “If you can’t feel anything, then I’ll feel everything for the both of us” remarks. But maybe, as a result of this, Dani comes to a realization much like The Beast in the Jungle’s John Marcher—but one that enables her to act on her newfound understanding, an opportunity that Marcher never finds before it’s too late. Maybe she realizes that her fatalism has been causing her to miss out on really, truly embracing the life that she and Jamie have been forging together, thus echoing the show’s earlier points about how unresolved trauma can impede our cultivation of meaningful relationships. Maybe she realizes that her life with Jamie has been passing her by while she’s remained so convinced that Viola will claim that life at any moment. Maybe she comes to understand that her perpetual sense of dread has been hurting Jamie—that Jamie needs her in the same ways that she needs Jamie, but that Dani’s ever-present sense of doom has been preventing her from providing for those needs. And maybe this leads to a re-framing of the “you, me, us,” conceit, with a scene in which Dani acknowledges the extent to which her fatalism has been dictating their lives; in light of this acknowledgement, she and Jamie resolve—together—to continue supporting each other as they navigate Viola’s lasting influences on their lives.

By making this suggestion, I once again do not want to seem like I’m advocating that “Dani should fight back against Viola” (or, in other words, that “Dani should fight harder to win the battle against her mental illness”). But I do want to direct us back to a point that I raised at the very beginning: grieving, traumatized, and mentally ill folks can, indeed, cause harm to our loved ones. Our grief, trauma, and mental illness don’t excuse that fact. But what that means is that we have to take responsibility for our harmful actions. What it absolutely does not mean is that our harms are inevitable or that our loved ones would be better off without us.It means recognizing that we still matter and have value to others, despite the narratives we craft to try to convince ourselves otherwise. It means acknowledging the wounds that fatalistic, “everybody is better without me” assumptions can inflict. It means identifying the ways that we can support and care for our loved ones, even through our own struggles with our mental health.

“Fighting harder to win the battle against mental illness” is a callous and downright incorrect framing of the matter; but there are, nevertheless, intentional steps that we must take to heal from trauma, to receive treatment for our mental illnesses, to care for ourselves, to care for our loved ones. For instance…the very process of writing this essay incited me to do a lot of reflecting on the self-defeating narratives that I have been telling myself about my mental health and my relationships with others. And that, in turn, incited me to do some course-correcting. I thought about how much I want to work towards healing, however convoluted and intricate that process may be. I thought about how I want to support my family. How I want to foster a robust social support network, such that I feel a genuine sense of community. How I want to be an attentive friend. How, someday, if I’m fortunate enough to have a girlfriend, I want to be a caring, present, and equal partner to her; I want to emotionally nourish her through life’s trials and turmoil, not just expect her to provide that emotional nourishment for me. I started writing this essay in August; and since then, because of it, I’ve held myself accountable by reaching out to friends, spending time with them, trying to support them. I’ve also managed to get myself, finally, to start therapy. And my therapist is already helping me address those self-defeating narratives that have led me to believe that I’m just a burden on my friends. So, y’know, I’m workin’ on it.

But it ain’t pretty. And it also ain’t a linear upward trajectory of consistent improvement. It’s messy. Sometimes, frankly, it’s real ugly.

It could be for Dani, too.

Even with her decision to accept the certainties and uncertainties of Viola’s intrusive presence in her life, to live her life as best she can in the face of it all, perhaps Dani still struggles from day to day. Perhaps some days are better than others. Perhaps Viola, as I suggested earlier, begins finding some modicum of peace through her possession of Dani; nonetheless, her rage and disquiet never entirely subside, and they still periodically overtake Dani. Perhaps Dani improves, only to then backslide, only to then find ways to stabilize once again. In this way, the show could’ve more precisely portrayed the muddled, tumultuous lastingness of grief and trauma throughout a lifetime—without concluding that struggle with a valorized suicide.

Such portrayals are not unprecedented in horror. As I contemplated this ending possibility, I couldn’t help but think of The Babadook (2014), another piece of horror media whose monster carries allegorical import as a representation of the endurance and obtrusion of unresolved trauma. The titular monster doesn’t disappear at the film’s end; Sam emphasizes, in fact, that “you can’t get rid of the Babadook.” And so, even after Amelia has confronted the Babadook and locked him in the basement of the family’s home, he continues to lurk there, still aggressive and threatening to overcome her, but able to be pacified with a bowlful of worms. Like loss and trauma, the Babadook can never be totally ignored or dispelled, only assuaged with necessary, recurrent attention and feedings.

Bly could have easily done something similar with Viola. Perhaps, in the same way that Amelia has to regularly provide the Babadook with an offering of worms, Dani must also “feed” Viola to soothe her rage. What might those feedings look like? What might they consist of? Perhaps Viola draws Dani back to Bly Manor, insisting on revisiting those same sites that have held implacable sway over her for centuries. Perhaps these visits are what permit Dani to gradually learn about Viola: who she was, what she has become, why she has tarried between life and death for so long. Perhaps Dani also learns that these “feedings” agitate Viola for a while, stirring her into fresh furor—but that, in their wake, Viola also settles more deeply and for longer periods. Perhaps they necessitate that Dani and Jamie both directly confront their own traumas, bring them to the surface, attend to them. Perhaps, together, they learn how to navigate their traumas in productive, mutually supportive ways. Perhaps this is also what quiets Viola over time, even if Dani is never quite sure whether Viola will return to claim her life.

You may be wondering, then, about what happens with the frame narrative in this scenario. If Dani doesn’t meet some tragic demise, what happens to the role and significance of grieving in the act of Jamie’s storytelling? Would Jamie’s storytelling even occur? Wouldn’t Dani just be at Flora’s wedding, too? Would we miss the emotional gut-punch of the reveal of the narrator’s identity at the end?  

Perhaps, in this case, the ending removes some of the weight off of the grief theme to instead foreground those troubled deliberations about how to impart traumatic histories (as we covered in the previous scenario). As such, the frame could feature those conflicts between Jamie (and Dani here too this time), Owen, and Henry concerning whether or not to tell Dani’s story to Miles and Flora. Perhaps Dani decides not to attend the wedding, wary of contributing to this conflict at the scene of what should be a joyous occasion for Flora; perhaps she feels like she can’t even face the children. And then, without Dani there, perhaps an overwrought Jamie jumps into the story when the opportunity presents itself—whether impulsively or premeditatedly.

Or…Perhaps the show could’ve just scrapped the frame at Flora’s wedding and could’ve done something else instead. What might that be? I have no idea! Sky’s the limit.

At any rate, even with these changes, it would’ve still been possible to have the show conclude in a sentimental, tear-jerking way (which seems to be Flanagan’s preference). Perhaps Jamie’s storytelling does spark the return of the children’s memories. Perhaps, as they begin to remember, they reach out to Dani and Jamie, wanting to connect with them, wanting especially to see Dani again. And then, perhaps, the show could’ve ended with a scene of Miles and Flora finally reuniting with Dani—emotional, sweet, and memorable, no valorized suicide or exploitation of queer tragedy needed.

Conclusion

In my writing of this essay—and over the course of the Bly Manor and Hill House rewatches that it inspired—I’ve been finding myself also doing a great deal of reflection about the possibilities and purposes of horror media. I’ve been thinking, in particular, about the potential for the horror genre to provide contained settings in which we can face and explore our deepest fears and traumas in (relatively) safe, controlled ways. Honestly, I think that this is part of why I enjoy Flanagan’s work so much (even if it also enrages me at the same time). If you’ve read this far, you’ll have seen just how profoundly I relate to so much of the subject matter of The Haunting of Bly Manor. It has been extremely meaningful and valuable for me to encounter the show’s depictions of topics like familial trauma, grief, loss, compulsory heterosexuality, caregiving for aging parents, so on, all of which bear so heavily on my own existence. Bly Manor produced opportunities for me to excavate and dig deeply into the worst experiences of and feelings about my life: to look at them, understand them, and give voice to them, when I’m otherwise inclined to bury them into inconspicuous docility.

Even so, the show does not handle these relatable topics as well as it could have. Flanagan and the many contributors to this horror anthology can’t just preach at us about the responsibilities of storytellers; they, too, have responsibilities as storytellers in the communication of these delicate, sensitive, weighty human experiences. And so, to reinforce a point that I made earlier, this is why I’ve written this extensive critique. It’s not because I revile the show and want to condemn it—it’s because I cherish Bly Manor immensely. It’s because I wanted more out of it. It’s because I want to hold it and its creators accountable. It’s because I want folks to think more critically about it (especially after how close I came to unreflectively accepting its messages in my own initial reception of it).

Television usually doesn’t get me this way. It’s been a long time since I was this emotionally attached to a show. So this essay has been my attempt to honor Bly with a careful, meticulous treatment. I appreciate all of the reflection and self-work that it has inspired me to undertake. I’ve wanted to pay my respects in the best way I know how: with close, thorough analysis.

If you’ve read all this mess, thanks for taking the time to do so. I hope that you’ve been able to get something out of it, too.

Representation matters, y’all.

The end.

[therabbitthatpostthings]

Gonna be a lil OOC, bear with me please. We’re getting to the end I promise. I’m more inclined to do a full 10 chapters just so it looks even lol. Who knows?

(Masterpost)

“Are you okay (L/N)?” Makomo asked.

You registered her question a few seconds later. Your face felt hot when you noticed you hadn’t put your fox mask back on. Even though you had come down to the village many times, it still felt strange. Makomo became the only person you could confide in.

“I’m fine.” You replied.

Of course she didn't believe you. “Well I’m almost finished with your hair tie for your boyfriend.”

“He’s not my boyfriend!”

“Right,” she laughed “I mean your, ‘travel companion’.”

You huffed in annoyance. She wasn’t wrong. Everytime you came to the village all you could think about was Giyuu. He’d been so adamant about you never leaving and it only took one night to change that. He would never come down with you, not like he needed to. It felt like the distance was going between you again.

Makomo’s took you hand in hers. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“It’s okay. I’m worried is all.”

“About him?”

“About us. About the day we’ll stop livin- traveling with each other.”

“Do you want to stay with him? Forever?”

A couple months ago you would have jumped at the first opportunity to leave this cursed mountain and never look back. The idea hadn’t crossed your mind anymore. Is it selfish to want the days to go on like this forever? To be with Giyuu forever? Is that what he wanted too? Of course you wanted to stay but could you?

“Would it be alright if I left everything behind for something so selfish?”

“I think you two should do what makes you both happy.”

“And if he doesn’t want that?”

Makomo smiled, “Then let’s stay here forever! Just like this.”

You pulled her in for a hug. “You’re a great friend Makomo.”

After finishing her shopping you helped carry her belongings home. Urokodaki sat outside, making another familiar fox mask. Makomo had mentioned he started to make them more frequently after running into you.

“Thank you again (Y/N), would you like some tea?” He said as you came out of the house and back to the porch. Sat next to him was a little tray of tea and snacks.

“Thank you sir.” You sat beside him and drank the warm tea. You felt the warmth flow through your chest. I wonder if I should borrow some for Giyuu?

“I see you're still wearing that old mask. I still want to meet the young man that carved it.” Urokodaki stated.

“Oh! M-Maybe one day. He’s so shy.” You nervously chuckled.

“It must mean a great deal to you, to wear it so much.”

“Yes, it's such a special gift.”

He hummed in agreement. “And how’s the mountain treating you?”

You almost choked on your tea. Quickly you brought your handkerchief up to your mouth. “P-Pardon?”

“That’s where you two are camping right?”

“R-Right! Yes! It’s fine! Thank you!”

Why do I feel like I’m being interrogated?!

“No monsters have come out to bother you? Oh I forgot, you don’t believe there’s a scary monster up there.” He chuckled.

“Nope! No scary monsters at all!” You laughed nervously.

“Right, just the lonely one.” He laughed again. “You have your friend to protect you so it’s all right. If you two ever want to stay over, my door is always open.”

That deep pit in your stomach returned. “C-Could I really do that? Stay?”

Urokodaki stopped carving. He didn’t speak, giving you time to continue. “Ever since I’ve been, traveling, I’ve been able to send things back home. Things my family needs. I’m scared that if I stop then I’ll just be leaving them with nothing. I’m their only child, how could I do something like that?”

Your hands gripped the teacup. Staring back at you was the reflection of the mask. The mask Giyuu gave you. After that night you found his collection of masks. Some broken, some shoddily made. All piled in an empty room. Except yours. Yours was just as pristine as Giyuu’s. He made that special for you and now. It’s like he couldn’t stand to be around you. You had just gotten closer and he’s treating you like all those months ago. Does he want you gone? Is it all over now?

“(Y/N).” Urokodaki’s voice pulled you back. He shifted towards you and offered a snack from the tray. “You know, I’ve raised many children over the years and all of them are long gone now. Even Makomo will get tired of this life and go on her own. Parents have to make peace with that. You do too.”

“I love my family. I love it here too. I don’t want to leave him behind.”

Urokodaki sighed, “Well if he’s as shy as you say, he probably doesn’t want you gone either. Hard to reason with a silent man.”

That made you laugh. It filled you with a little hope. You knew well enough by now. He needed time is all. If he really wanted you gone he would say so. He wouldn’t help you or your family if he didn’t want to.

Urokodaki cleared his throat, “If your friend ever wants a job, I’m getting older and I need help cutting the trees down.”

The thought flashed in your mind like a bolt of lightning. “A woodcutter?”

It was all so clear. Why hadn’t you thought of it before?!

“Well yes-”

“My dad’s a woodcutter! Well- he’s a lot of things but woodcutter is one of them! And my mom! She’s a great seamstress! Resourceful too!” You were jumping out of your seat. You hurriedly fixed your mask and pack the rest of your snacks away. “Thank you Urokodaki-san!”

“(Y/N)! The hair tie you wanted!” Makomo called after you. You quickly took both out her hands and rushed back back to the mountain path.

“Thank you Makomo!”

“Grandpa, did something happen?” Makomo asked.

“Not that all know.” He said hiding a smile under his mask.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ♡ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ♡ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“Giyuu!” You called out. “I’m back!” You called his name all throughout the house. He popped up behind you and instead of being scared you rushed to grab. “I have news and a present for you!”

“A present?”

“Yeah! Come on, sit, sit!” You pulled him along to the sitting room and sat him in front of the large chair. You ran into your room and grabbed a brush and comb. “Do you mind if I comb your hair?”

“No.”

You sat behind him and gently ran your fingers through his hair. Untangling bits from his antlers. You spent a long while making sure to go through every clump and tangle before running the comb through it. Giyuu gave you no hint of discomfort. In fact his shoulder relaxed and he slumped against the chair. Once you started brushing he tilted his head back in your lap. You looked so focused and beautiful like this.

What did I do to deserve this?

The answer didn’t matter. He felt so peaceful. He didn’t notice you had pulled his hair back to a low ponytail. Your hands lingered on the side of his face. “There you are.”

Your warm smile greeted him as he opened his eyes. “I wanted to see your face.”

Your thumb idly traced the blue markings on his skin. He leaned into your touch, his heart was racing in his chest. This all felt too good to be true. His hand cupped yours, keeping it in place. You had too strong of an effect on him.

“Giyuu. There’s something I want to ask.”

He hummed in acknowledgment, still lost in the haze.

“It’ll be spring time soon and- I- I talked to Urokodaki. I think my parents should move here.”

His breath caught in his throat. Of course you talked to him. He lives down there.

You continued rambling. “Y-You wouldn’t have to make long trips down the mountain anymore if they lived close by. Plus there’s work here for them! I’d just have to go get them- they might be scared of you…”

Giyuu fully tilted his head back to look at you. You’d never seen him look like this before. Blue eyes staring right through you. Like he wanted something. Like he wanted you. “Where would you stay?”

“Here. With you.” You said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

You hadn’t think that far ahead but, why wouldn’t you stay here with Giyuu? On your way back up the mountain you imagined going down to see your parents everyday. This has become a second home to you. It was old and creaking and creepy at night. It was also where you two cooked together, took strolls through the garden and stayed up all night talking. You couldn’t imagine a life without Giyuu.

Inches away from his face the gravity of your words surely hit you and you shot back up in the seat. “That is if you want me to! It’s fine if you want me to leave-”

“(Y/N).” Giyuu rose up. He held your hand in his. You could feel his breath on your knuckles as he knelt before you. Gently, he kissed your hand and your heart fluttered. “Stay with me.”

“Of course.”

⋆☾⋆

“And that’s all you know?” Uzui asked.

“Yes!” Your father urged.

“I just find it hard to believe the demon fed you and let you go and demanded your child come back and gave you clothes! That’s not typical monster behavior.”

“What am I supposed to say?!” He yelled “That is what happened! You told me you could avenge my child!”

After another half hour or so of questing, Uzui called it a night and left your old home. He walked back to run-down inn, wanting to nurse his growing headache.

“Any news from the old man?” Shinazugawa asked.

“Nope, same story as before. This demon doesn’t even sound malicious. You get food and free stuff from it as long as you don’t steal from it? What kind of creature is that?!”

“One looking for sacrifices.” Obanai stated.

This didn’t sit right with Uzui. Something about this story wasn’t adding up. They had been in this village for two weeks and like clockwork the creature had snuck supplies to the family under their noses. And only to that family. No one else could even attempt to enter the mountain pass without getting lost and ending up back on the trail they started. Even on accident. The only way through was around the mountain to the next village over. And even now that the snow was starting to melt, the weather of the mountain stayed cold as a dead winter night. This didn’t sound like a monster that wanted a steady supply of sacrifices. It wanted to be left alone.

“You know something else about this is confusing me. We’ve had hunters up and down this area for years and all hostile activity stopped about 8 years ago.”

“So?” Shinazugawa hissed. Uzui could feel the tension in the room shift.

“So, it doesn’t bother either of you that three of the people involved in this encounter all got away unharmed.”

“The kid-”

“For all we know is alive. Alive and guarded.”

“You sound ridiculous.” Obanai jeered.

“What's ridiculous is that you two asked me to come in the first place.” Uzui snapped. “And now you want me to storm up an impenetrable mountain over some vendetta neither of you want to share.”

Obanai spoke before either hunters could make a move. “The demon on the mountain was locked there by a retired hunter after a 45 year long killing spree 15 years ago. Anyone from either of the villages that went up there would die. That demon is powerful. No other creature can control the forest the way it can. When it opens up the forest again, that is our only chance. We can’t chance another 45 years on the thought that one person may be alive up there.”

“Regardless of what happens, that demon is dying.” Shinazugawa declared.

Uzui still didn’t feel right about this. All he could do was hope that the person on the mountain was still there.

[anakinsthot]

Hiiii!

Can I ask for "knocking on the wrong door au" for the short fic thing??

(from this prompt list)

Thank you! This is not so much the wrong door as right address wrong person, but the idea grabbed me immediately and I had to write it.

1.3k

The cat in Anakin’s arms was surprisingly docile. It looked up at him with large green eyes, blinking slowly every so often.

“Where did you come from?” he asked quietly. The little tabby had been hiding in the shed behind his house. In between a disemboweled lawn mower and the snow blower Anakin had been about to take out, the little thing had been curled into a tight ball. When Anakin, gloves on just in case, picked it up it went limp in his arms. He’d momentarily worried that the poor thing had just died. When it started purring, a thin scratchy sound, he sighed in relief.

Anakin brought it into the house, where it could warm up and drink some water. He found an old can of tuna out of a cupboard and offered it that as well. While the cat ate, Anakin noticed it was wearing a collar with a tag. He unclipped it gently, trying not to disturb the cat while it ate, and turned it over in his hands. On one side was a name – Boga – and on the other an address. 212 Baker St. That was just a block down from Anakin’s house.

While he waited for Boga to finish eating, Anakin looked for something suitable as a cat carrier. He’d never owned a pet, having grown up in a small apartment that had a strict no pets policy, and had been tossing the idea around for a couple months now that he owned his own house. He had the vague idea that something enclosed on all sides was recommended for cats. When nothing suitable turned up Anakin sighed and grabbed one of the canvas bags his mother had given him for grocery shopping.

“Please don’t jump out,” he told the cat, before setting her into the bag. When he put picked it up she sat quietly, little head poking out of the top as she looked around. “I’m going to take you home, ok?”

Baker St was a cross street to Anakin’s, just four houses down. 212 turned out to be the second on the street. He stopped out front, frowning. There was a sold sign in the front yard and a u-haul in the driveway. Anakin crossed his fingers, hoping that it was the old family moving out and the cat had simply gotten out in the commotion.

He knocked on the door and waited. A voice called out that they’d be right there, and then he heard the sound of someone shoving things out of the way.

The man who opened the door looked flustered. Anakin sympathized – he had probably looked the same when he was packing and unpacking in his last move. Despite his red cheeks and messy hair, he looked unfairly good for someone who had presumably been moving boxes all day. His long sleeves were rolled up to show well-muscled biceps and his sweatpants were quite flattering. Anakin swallowed and tried to focus on the man’s blue eyes.

“Can I help you?” the man asked gruffly.

“I’ve got your cat,” Anakin said, holding the bag in front of him. Boga meowed plaintively. “She was in my shed, I figure she must have slipped out and gotten scared while you were moving things?”

“That’s not my cat, but good luck finding her owner,” the man said and started to close the door.

Anakin stuck his foot out. It was rude, he knew, but someone abandoning their animal like this much worse.

“This is 212 Baker St, right?”

“Yes,” the man said slowly. He’d given up on trying to close the door, but hadn’t opened it all the way either.

“Then this is your cat,” Anakin told him, showing him the tag on the collar. “Maybe you don’t want her any more but it’s pretty fucking shitty to just abandon her. At least give me whatever things you have left and I’ll make sure she gets a home where she’s actually cared for.”

“That’s not my cat,” the man repeated. “I just bought the house. I’m moving in right now.”

Anakin swallowed. “I’m… sorry,” he said slowly. “I’ll just, go I guess. Congrats on the new house.”

Something must have shown on his face, because the other man’s expression softened and he opened the door all the way and invited Anakin in.

“I’m Obi-Wan Kenobi,” he offered, “why don’t you come in and we can decide what to do from here.”

“Anakin Skywalker,” Anakin told him. He pulled Boga out of the bag as soon as the door was closed behind him. She curled up in his arms right away, her scratchy purr starting up again. “And this is Boga.”

The living room was littered with boxes and a couch that was only half-way put together. Obi-Wan sat on one of the boxes and gestured for Anakin to do the same, cheeks pink.

“I’m sorry about the mess, but as I said. I’m just moving in today.”

Anakin lowered himself tentatively onto a box. It bent under him, just a bit, but Obi-Wan seemed unconcerned.

“Welcome to the neighborhood,” Anakin laughed a little. “Normally I try and greet new neighbors with baked goods or something, not a cat.”

Obi-Wan smiled at him. It was possibly the most beautiful smile Anakin had ever seen. He looked down at Boga quickly, trying to hide the flush he could feel on his cheeks.

“Unfortunately the sellers moved out a month ago, and they didn’t say anything about their cat,” Obi-Wan said. “I don’t have their contact info, but I can have my realtor reach out to them. I fear you’re right about her being abandoned, though. Surely they would have asked me to keep an eye out if she’d escaped.”

“If you could, that would be great,” Anakin tried to sound optimistic, but he thought Obi-Wan was probably right. “I can keep her until you hear back. I don’t have anything for cats but I think the local grocery store carries pet supplies and they’re still open.”

“No need for that. I was planning on adopting a cat after I got settled in and I have everything already,” Obi-Wan interrupted him. “If they don’t want her back I’ll keep her.”

He stood and walked over to Anakin, reaching out to take Boga. Reflexively, Anakin tightened his arms around her. He’d been prepared to give her back to her family, of course. But as soon as Obi-Wan had revealed he wasn’t her owner, thoughts of keeping her had started to form. In his arms, she meowed quietly and squirmed.

Anakin swallowed and stood up. “That’s great,” he said, holding her out to Obi-Wan. She was a docile as ever as they exchanged her and butted her head against Obi-Wan’s chin, rubbing a cheek against his beard, when he settled her in his arms. “Um.” Anakin hesitated at the door, reluctant to just leave like this.

“Why don’t you give me your number and I’ll keep you updated on her?” Obi-Wan offered.

Anakin smiled in relief and quickly pulled out his phone. Obi-Wan recited his number, and after Anakin had sent him a text and given Boga one final pat on the head, he left.

Back at his house, Anakin looked around. He could picture it now, how a cat would fill the space. Where the food and water bowl would go, which corner would be best for a cat tree. Sinking onto his couch, he pulled up the website for the local animal shelter and started scrolling through the available pets.

Two hours and ten open tabs about cat care later, his phone pinged with a text.

There was a photo – a selfie – of Obi-Wan laying down on the now assembled couch with Boga on his chest.

Boga Kenobi and I would like to invite you over for dinner.

Anakin bit his lip and smiled. I’d love that.