#and i bought those two pairs BECAUSE I lost my old ones.

[not-this-guy]

bro-core: where the fuck do all my caps and fingerless gloves go.

[srjlvr]

WHAT’s IN MY BAG ?!

what would ENHA members put in their bag that reminds them of you.

idol-ot7!enha x nonidol-fem!reader | genre fluff | warnings none (lmk if i missed smth) | not proofread ! | ✎ ᝰ (‘a note from jo’) . don’t even ask me how i thought about it bc i honestly dont know

희승 <> heeseung

he’d probably go around with your beauty products like hand creams and such.

it’s the ones you always use and even asked heeseung to buy them for you a few times when you ran out of it.

you sometimes happen to forget them when you two are going out—no worries!! heeseung is always here to rescue.

“what’s your favorite thing you keep in your bag?” the interviewer asks. heeseung looks through his bag and smiles when he sees something that reminds him of you, he takes it out and chuckles, “y/n always uses them, i thought it’d be good if i keep them since she always forgets them when we go out”

제이 <> jay

he’d definitely carry your perfume in his bag. he bought it to you once as a gift and ever since then it became your favorite perfume ever.

sometimes when you’re far from each other, he’d put on your perfume he carries around just because he misses you.

always buys extras and gives them to you but leaves one in his bag just incase he rans out of it and isn’t able to buy more at the moment.

“what’s the most expensive thing in your bag?” the interviewer asks, clearly making them to show off. jay immediately takes out your perfume and grins, “i bought it for y/n as a gift, but i didn’t expect her to like it as much as she does now, so i buy it more often now and it’s somehow the most expensive one”

“i use it a lot, i always think about y/n when i do” he smiles and nods, the members all sniffing him and giggling.

제이크 <> jake

before the two of you got together, you made him a heart shaped paper with a cute drawing on it.

he’d definitely carry that around, even if it looks old and wrinkled, he loves it.

always shows it to people since he adores it so much and wants to show off about how amazing you are.

“what’s the thing you’d never agree to give away?” the interviewer asks. jake, without a doubt takes out the heart shaped old and wrinkled paper with a big smile on his face, “y/n made it for me before we started dating, at that moment i knew i had to do everything to make her mine”

성훈 <> sunghoon

sunghoon loves taking pictures. he especially likes taking polaroid pictures with you, and of you alone.

he’d go around with a little album of your polaroids together, there’s nothing he loves more than looking through those pictures whenever you two are far away from each other.

would take it ANYWHERE he goes, and always adds new polaroids when he gets the time to take new pictures.

“what’s one thing you’d never get rid off?” the interviewer asks. sunghoon takes out the little album and smiles as he shows a few pictures of the two of you together, “it’s me and y/n in those pictures, i have this album for over a year and we’re always taking new pictures, i always look at them whenever i miss her”

the poor boy blushes and covers his face, the rest are busy pouting, “it’s the fact that he doesn’t even have pictures with us in his bag that saddens us”

선우 <> sunoo

gahhh i feel like he’d definitely carry around hair products in his bag—such as hairpins and hair ties.

he loves loves LOVES styling your hair, and always has an emergency hairpins and hair ties just incase.

your hairpin broke? sunoo’s here to fix it for you. your hair tie is not holding enough? sunoo’s. here. to. fix. that.

“what’s a thing you rarely use but still have it?” the interviewer asks. sunoo knows the answer right away and takes out the hairpins and hair ties with a giggle, “i use it on y/n mostly since i can’t really style my hair with these, but she needs them a lot so i carry it around”

정원 <> jungwon

the amount of wireless earbuds that you lost is insane. jungwon, being the responsible he is—still uses his first earbuds ever.

when you bought a new pair, jungwon decided to buy an extra one. he puts it in his bag and carries it around in case you’d come up to him and tell him you lost it again.

lost a pair again? jungwon pulls out the extra he bought you last time, and would probably buy an extra one again since he can’t trust you on this one. would he mind? no, not at all.

“what’s a thing you actually have twice of it?” the interviewer asks. jungwon laughs as soon as he hears the question, taking out the earbuds he bought recently, “i have my own earbuds, and these one are extra for y/n, she keeps loosing her earbuds all the time so i keep extras in my bag for her”

“it’s quite expensive isn’t it?” the interviewer asks and jungwon nods, “but i don’t mind since it always reminds me of her”

니키 <> ni-ki

both ni-ki and you LOVE sunglasses. you even bought matching ones once! ni-ki would probably carry one of your favorite sunglasses in his bag.

you have your own that you love and usually wear, but the one ni-ki carries is your most expensive and favorite one.

as much as he loves his own sunglasses, he’d wear yours whenever he misses you a lot, that way he can feel your embrace next to him, even if you’re not physically by his side.

“what’s your favorite accessory in your bag?” the interviewer asks. ni-ki smiles and slowly takes out your sunglasses, “it actually belongs to y/n, but i took it. we both love sunglasses and we bought matching ones, but since these are her favorites i carry them around and wear them all the time”

••• copyright © srjlvr all rights are reserved.

[leaawrites]

It's nice to have a friend

Percy Jackson x mortal fem!reader

Warnings: use of Y/n, mentions of almost dying, Percy's stupid at some points, friends to lovers

Summary: Percy can't let your hands freeze to death, only because he had to make you lose yours in the first place.

Masterlist

Looking out the window Y/n saw the frozen water falling down from above. Their heritage, the clouds, were a dark color of white, however the snow didn’t make the scene dark, it made it comfortable. It gave her a type of warm hug, a feeling she couldn’t forget. A feeling she wanted to save for the warm summer days, the same as she saves the sun for rainy days, and the rain for when the flowers bloom.

The bell rang, signaling that the lesson, and the school day therefor, was over. Y/n sighned, she did want to walk through the streets covered in snow, but her hands would freeze to death in the meantime, since she lost her gloves a year before.

With her hands in the pockets of her coat and her gaze on the floor, watching the snow squish under her boots, while new one fell onto them, she concentrated on the music in her ears. Only looking up when she heard child’s laughter. On the other side of the sidewalk, 4 kids were having a snowball fight, laughing together when one gets hit by the snow. Y/n stopped, admiring the fun in their eyes.

“You wanna join them?” A voice beside her asked.Turning around, she saw her best friend, Percy.

She would still concider him her best friend, even when he started to ditch her every summer for some summer camp he couldn't tell her too much about. She liked the boy, she really did. But something about his behavior when she asked him about it didn't sit right with her. It was like he didn’t want her to know. Before this, Percy would've told her everything. No matter what, she used to always be the first to know. Whether it be about a new school he was sent to or someone that bullied him on that day. It was always her. Now it were his new friends.

She tried to tell herself that it was because Percy wanted to leave some of his old life behind whenever he went to summer camp. Like it were two seperate worlds. But she knew that Grover, another friend of Percy's, was also there.

"I can’t," she answered. "I lost my gloves last year, after you had to take me to one of those." She pointed to the kids, smilling at the memory of back then.

“Oh, yeah.” He remembered, laughing at the memory as well.

Both of them were prepared to make the other go down and suffer in the snow that day a year ago. It was a simple and nice idea, until Percy decided he had to help a duck on the lake. At that time he hadn’t had snow gloves himself, so he borrowed Y/n’s.

Long story short, the duck ended up almost drowning, together with Percy, but could rescue itself, while the gloves were sliding from Percy’s hands and fell into the freezing water. He hadn’t bought her new one’s, he insisted on doing so, but she refused to accept them when he got them for her. She didn’t want him to spent his money on her, so she said she would buy new one’s herself. Since it was technically her own fault for giving them to him, when she knew they wouldn’t end up on her own pair of hands anyway. However, she forgot until it was too late.

"You almost died that day, how can you laugh about it?" She asked the pale boy. With the white snow surrounding him he fit right into it.

"t was a fun day, you can’t deny it, can you?" He asked her, searching for the comformation he always craved from her. He wanted her to agree with him in everything, so that he knew that they were still balancing on the same thin line like before all the sudden changes in his life.

Spending time with her always kind of made him feel more at ease. She was his home. She was who he was so used to, he could tell her everything. Besides about camp and his now second life. It was too dangerous. So, he keot it to himself. Rather have her angry than dead, right?

"It was a fun day," she agreed, stuffing her hands further into her pockets from the cold temperatures.

"Have mine," Percy said, holding his gloves into her direction, after seeing her shaking body.

"No, thanks,” she said, continuing walking home. "I’m not even that cold."

But the chattering of her teeth betrayed her and Percy looked at her with a dumbfounded expression.

"Then have one at least," he tried to compromise, looking into her eyes with that certain look. Raising his eyebrows, Percy moved the glove more to her body, until she couldn’t refuse to take it anymore. Rolling her eyes in annoyance, she put the black glove over her freezing hand. Feeling the warm of his hand from before, made an slight blush creep up on her face. Which she played off from the cold.

"What is with the other, genuis?" she asked. She didn’t want a second glove but a conversation.

He only took her hand into his, beginning to walk again, not looking at her once. Her face grew even hotter and her body was filling with warmth as their bare freezing skin touched and exchanged body heat. Both were burning from the desire of this being more than a friendly encounter.

[thisismeracing]

Haunted | LH44

― Pairing: Ghost!Lewis x fem!reader ― Word count: 3.8k ― Warnings: +18; suggestive content and graphic description of sex (fingering and dirty talk); mentions of cheating; description of horror situations and stabbing (but not too graphic). ― Summary: Lost in the years, lost in the days, Lewis Hamilton haunts the house that once was his. The house where he was killed. And the house that now has new inhabitants. He was used to blowing candles, breaking chinas, and it being enough for the curious newbies to leave. However, it was the first time he met someone who wouldn’t act terrified by his presence. Yn was curious, and that curiosity had a price. Lewis was the one who would collect the debt.

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It was a cursed house.

The tale was that a rich man used to live there. He was beautiful. So beautiful the whole town knew who he was. He was also warm and compassionate, he would help old ladies with bags, walk the neighbor’s dog, share his famous coffee whenever he had the time, and help the young boys with driving classes. But his beauty was also his curse because someone’s wife fell in love with him, and as the saying goes, there are two things you cannot hide properly: a cough and a burning love. It wasn’t even a week after the man noticed how his lady would eye the town’s treasure. It was possible the young gentleman didn’t know about this infatuation, but the woman’s husband knew and it was enough for him to stab the man to death in the most brutal way. Rumor had it he tried to get up and walk, but he could only make it to the door of his room, his body collapsing and succumbing to death minutes after agonizing with his own blood. The houses were far one from the other, but his screams were so loud some of the neighbors heard them even after he passed away, haunted by his pleas they moved.

The house went for sale, and someone even bought it a year after the crime, but they did not last for a week, the ghost of the dead man haunted the place day and night moving things, opening and closing doors, as if inviting whoever was there to leave, and when his requests were not obeyed, he would riot. In the night, his screams would get louder, he would grab their feet, play with the TV’s remote, boil water, and let the windows open.

They say he’s an angry ghost, a miserable one because he never got to experience true love. He was killed before he could, and so he closed himself on the house he took so much care while in life. His garden was the most beautiful one. Full of dark roses, and big trees, but once he died so did the flowers. It was like everything rotted.

Yn sighed thinking about the story an old lady told her when she went to get groceries. The woman went as far as advising her to leave the house, the money be damned. But of course, Yn wouldn’t do it. The house cost money for her and her husband, Eric. And besides, she had always been curious about ghost stories. Never truly believed how dangerous it could get.

“And she told me some people still hear his screams when passing by the house,” Yn repeated the tale to Eric while they shared take-out on the living room floor. The fire was lit casting a warm glow around then, but she felt a brief shiver pass through her body as soon as she finished speaking.

The ginger laughed, “Did she tell you when it happened?”

“A long time ago, she didn’t- she didn’t mention the year,” Yn explained. “Why? Don’t you believe it?”

He shook his head, “Nah, you know I’m extremely skeptical about those fairy things.”

“Not fairies, Eric, but ghosts,” she tried.

He shrugged, “I think when we die, we die, period. There’s no second or third dimension, much less one in between to get stuck on.”

Yn nodded, knowing it wouldn’t be a productive conversation. Her husband was usually set on his beliefs, never straying away from them, and sometimes this would cost a peaceful night whenever they couldn’t agree on something. He would have a hard time comprehending her point of view.

“So what, you wanna move now? You’re afraid a bloody man is gonna show up and imprison you here?” Eric joshed.

Yn rolled her eyes tired of how pushy he could get. She loved him, but sometimes it was hell to deal with his mannerisms. When they were younger she thought it would change with time. Turns out it didn’t.

“It’s your turn to clean up, I’m heading to bed,” and pecking his lips she climbed the stairs leading to the long and dark corridor of the rooms. Yn stopped right at the door, watching the threshold and imagining how, even if years ago, someone died there. Right in between. Reaching for the outside. Screaming for help.

She sighed, starting her night routine. It was only their second week at the house, and she was used to how the bathroom lights would flash, or the water would lessen. Except, now she knew about the guy that died there, and everything that happened reminded her of him.

It’s curious how your mindset changes once you’re presented with a different explanation. Once you believe it to be true. And she believed so much to the point of googling it while lying in bed. Eric hadn’t been back just yet, and Yn was scrolling through the results which weren’t that many. It was a small town. Apparently a simple crime. It was probably life-altering and shocking for those who lived there at the time and knew both parties, but if she were a journalist that wouldn’t be the most exciting case to cover.

Yn heard the footsteps on the corridor, but she was so engrossed in the page that she finally found out about the murder of a young man, and just when she was about to reach his name the door opened. She bit her lips, trying to find which line she was reading, “Eric?” Yn asked, and the same door that opened all the way seconds ago closed abruptly making her jump.

The light on the nightstand flashed, and Yn tried to be rational. She told herself it was probably Eric trying to prank her. Or the wind, even though the windows were closed. Who knew? The house had a good ventilating system.

She called for her husband again, and she heard more footsteps, but he didn’t answer back. She huffed stressed, blocking her phone and turning on the bed to try and get some sleep. She had tons of cleaning to do the next day, the house was huge and some of her things were still packed in cardboxes.

Later, when Eric finally got to the bedroom, he walked by the bed squeezing her foot, a habit he had whenever he passed close enough to touch, and seconds before, when he crawled into bed Yn was too drowsy to complain about his stupid pranks. She just curled her body on his and dozed off.

She was humming to a tune she couldn’t quite grasp yet while folding her clothes on her bed when she heard the steps. She tried turning to look, but it all happened too fast. In the blink of an eye, she felt the sting on her back, so close to her neck it felt almost like when sunlight hit that particular spot. She held back a groan but screamed the second that same sting hit full force, this time on the left side of her shoulders. When Yn turned, feeling the tickles of hot blood run down her back, she saw a man with so much rage in his eyes that it was like he was hitting her over and over again on the same spot. But in reality, his hands went up holding a bloody knife, and he stabbed her in a series of different places. She screamed, cried, and asked between coughs why her, why he was doing it, why a knife, why so many hits, why why why? And when no answer came from his mouth except grunts she knew there was nothing to do but to run for her life. She stumbled in the direction of the bedroom door, feeling yet another series of stings on her back. She tried to run, but her own blood betrayed her and she slipped on it. The feeling of the hot liquid against her hands and cheeks made her scream harder for help. But no one came, and the stab continued. She tried crawling. Tried praying. Tried begging for her life or at least to stop and let her die in pieces, but it went on until darkness surrounded her. She weakly turned her arm in the direction of her killer, digging her nails into the skin of his forearm and dragging as if telling him something. And when darkness surrounded her she kept screaming and twisting her body.

“Yn, wake up! It’s me! Wake up, dammit!” Erik tried while Yn relentlessly twisted on the bed. “Wake up, Yn,” he tried louder and she jumped out of bed taking part of the covers with her and almost falling to the ground.

“Omg, omg,” she took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves, looking around her room and noticing there were no clothes to be folded or blood spots on the ground. Only her scared husband staring at her from his spot on the bed.

“What the fuck was that?”

“I don’t know,” she holds the covers closer to her body, trying to make herself smaller. “I had a nightmare, but it was so real, so real I-”

Erik sighed, “You shouldn’t have entertained that crazy lady at the supermarket, now you’re convinced and thinking there’s a ghost in the house, as if there are ghosts at all!”

Yn shook her head, but kept her mouth shut, standing glued on her spot and assessing the whole room all over again. It was this room. This exact same room was the one she was standing in in her nightmare, and possibly the room where the guy was killed. Her phone lit up on the nightstand, there were no new notifications, and when she unlocked it her browser was still open on the article about the case. She locked it again and took a step back.

“What was it now, babe?” Erik was clearly frustrated, he hated being woken up especially in the middle of the night, and especially in a scary situation like the one he just watched happen.

“Nothing, I- uhm- I should try sleeping again,” she stated, getting under the covers and lying beside him, when her back hit the mattress she swore she felt a small sting, but she kept her mouth shut and closed her eyes, trying to sleep it off.

When the morning came and the sun peeked through the blinds, Yn descended the stairs to the kitchen, stopping at the door and staring at the mess her husband, who was supposed to clean the dishes and discard the takeout containers, left.

Sighing, started the coffee machine, and a few minutes later Eric showed up in the kitchen, rubbing the sleep of his eyes.

“Good morning,” he mumbled.

“Yeah, good morning, you probably had a blast last night watching TV instead of cleaning the kitchen,” she spat, and he arched his brows.

“I did clean the kitchen!”

“Then who messed it up? A ghost?!” she bit back, pointing to the takeout containers on the counter and the dirty dishes pilling on the sink.

Eric rubbed his temple, before walking to the coffee machine. He hated coffee, and the second he poured a cup Yn knew he was stressed, “I cleaned everything, I remember doing it before also cleaning the living room, that’s why I got to the bedroom so long after you.”

Yn saw a hint of truth behind his statement, but shook her head, starting to discard the cans and plastic wrappers in the trash. She watched from her peripheral vision her husband grab an apple and drown his coffee in one go before leaving the room.

Protected from the cold air by a thin robe, Yn ate breakfast peacefully watching the destroyed backyard of her new house. She could see the spots where plants once were, now involved by tall weeds and dark unkept grass. A three with a swing attached to it was hanging on by a thread.

She took notes of things she wanted to renovate and what she wanted to plant where, before getting inside to a virtual work meeting.

The day went on without events. At night she shared dinner with Eric again, and it was her turn to clean the kitchen. She did it alone on the ground floor, Eric in their room doing some readings or whatever. She finished in less than an hour and then went to bed. Her mind and body were tired after not sleeping properly the other night, so when Yn hit the mattress she was out cold faster than you could say “good night”.

His eyes were covered by the shadows, but she could tell he had a thoughtful expression by looking at his eyebrows. He was taller than her, she could tell, and he was broad. Lean and strong arms, chiseled jaw, and pretty dark skin.

Yn tried opening her mouth to ask who he was. What he was doing standing at her bedroom door, but his stare was so intense she couldn’t do anything but look back at him, and as the saying goes once you look something in the face, once you stare too long into the abyss, it looks back. It starts to truly exist.

Her week goes by with lonely days and strange nights. She keeps dreaming about the guy standing on her bedroom door and keeps hearing steps, and hushed voices. Sometimes she’ll live that stabbing nightmare all over again. Some hours, she’ll work on her computer, and though there’s a sense of loneliness, there’s also a sense of company, as if she was being watched.

It would scare anyone in their right mind, but Yn tried to rationalize things. And the things she couldn’t, she just let them be. Sometimes, you have to accept that you’re not supposed to understand everything. Life has its mysteries, and so did her new house.

Things with Eric were going downhill, and they were spending less and less time together. But it wasn’t anything new, and he was busy with work. They were both busy. Yn tried to tell herself. Feeling lonely would explain how her brain threw her into a heated dream.

It was the first time she was able to produce a sound in her dream. It was a simple “a” that passed between her open lips. And so as it happens, it was also the first time the man by the door moved. His eyes never left hers while he walked to the foot of the bed. He wandered as if he knew the place and setting of everything. Like he lived there for centuries. And when he stopped in front of her, his eyes trailed on the covers, moving them to her feet, without moving his body. Yn grunted, surprised with how easily the covers fell, and how her body was exposed to him. The cold air made her nipples harden against the silk nightgown.

When she looked at him again, she saw his eyes for the first time. A deep honey brown, carrying so much and whispering so much on her mind, she had the urge to touch him. But her body would only do so much. Yn watched, as he studied her contours with something she was not able to pin just yet. She watched as his tongue came out of his plush and pink lips to moisten them. And she moaned, she actually moaned when his fingers touched her leg. His skin was cold, his touch so feathery almost like a ghost. He trailed the tip of his short nails on her thighs and with just one look he spread them.

“Yes,” she was able to whisper when his eyes found hers again.

The man smirked devilishly. One of his fingers trailed the path to her unclothed pussy and Yn whined when he spread her sex and caressed her soaked lips. She couldn’t think about anything but his deep brown eyes. Her husband was long forgotten. The house was long forgotten.

“Yes,” she chanted again. It sounded like a prayer. It made the mysterious man’s grin widen. He inserted one finger inside her and dipped his face to her ear. There wasn’t a sound, but she felt a light gush of air against her skin. And she tried to move her hips in the direction of his fingers.

He played with her already puffy clit, and this time the gush of air she felt against her skin was accompanied by a quiet chuckle sound.

Her hips ground against his big hands, and Yn choked when his long fingers hit a particularly sensitive spot. She shuddered and her body went limp when her orgasm hit her like a trainwreck, fogging her mind from any coherent thought.

Yn jolted from the bed feeling sweat slide down her forehead and between her breasts. She took a deep breath and finally opened her eyes trying to adjust them to the darkness of her room, her comforter was lying by her feet and the skirt of her nightgown was hiked up on her hips. She furrowed her brows and tentatively moved her fingers to her core, feeling the dampness of her core.

Cum.

She turned to her husband, but Eric was lying beside her, in a deep slumber.

She turned to the doorway and the once-closed door now rested ajar.

Once again Yn tried to rationalize everything. Was it possible to cheat on someone in your dreams? Was it really a dream?

She tried talking with Eric, but he was in so deep with work he wouldn’t be home until dinner almost every day. And when she tried to tell him about the weird noises and the sensation of being watched, he told her “It just feels weird because it's not decorated with your flowers and things yet, we got it mobiliated, not decorated, so maybe that’s why you’re feeling dislocated or whatever, just relax, will ya?”.

Up until starting to get the house in order, Yn would tell herself that every weird thing happening to her was just a product of her imagination. But while going through things in the living room, she found an album. Inside, a bunch of pictures caught her attention. The first few pages portrayed the house in a much better state. The gardens and a beautiful kitchen. A fireplace lit in the living room, and a corridor full of photos. At some point, she found a picture of a man. A stunning man. He had a big white smile while staring at the camera. His hair was ornated with braids, and two small ones shaped his face to perfection.

Her breath caught in her throat.

She flipped the album frantically being met with pictures of the same man side by side with different people. None of them were familiar to her. He was the only known face. By the foot of one picture, it read “Lewis and friends” signed with a date and a scribbled message she didn’t care to read because that man was Lewis.

That man was the one who would stand by her bedroom door every night.

It was the same man that fingered her until she came.

The same man who haunted her.

And precisely, the same man that haunted the whole house since the day he was killed, she confirmed after tipping on her phone, searching for the news about the case again, and finding his blurry picture there. No mention of his name. But a picture of him. And the mention of the neighborhood.

Her stabbing nightmares were his memories.

He was trying to spook her off the house.

But something changed along the way, Yn thought.

The cup of tea she was sipping tipped on the coffee table. She squeaked in surprise, and she would tell herself it was just her mind again if one of her books weren’t thrown across the living room.

And she swore it happened so fast, she couldn’t really process, couldn’t think of what she was doing when she opened her mouth and questioned, “Lewis?” She gulped. “Is that you?” her last sentence was a breathy whisper. So small only a ghost could hear.

And he did.

In fact, he waited forever to hear someone calling him by the name. He waited for the person who would see him and not run, who would stare, just like she did.

They say that calling someone by their name gives them power and gives them life.

Yn had just given Lewis what he needed.

And without even knowing, she had given herself too.

Lost in the years, lost in the days, he had finally found her.

He smiled, and when Yn turned to the corridor she saw him. She saw him for the first time being awake. Truly saw him. Lewis was handsome. Even more in person. But he was a ghost. He had touched and haunted her.

Yn couldn’t help but scream and try to run, but he was faster, appearing in front of her in the blink of an eye with a smirk on his face.

“Please, don’t kill me,” she whimpered and he chuckled.

“I’m not killing you, sweetheart. Quite the opposite, I’m keeping you here with me,” he states before adding, “Forever”.

Her eyes go round, and she shakes her head scaredly. “I-I have a husband, I’m married, I’m-”

Lewis chuckled, “He doesn’t love you, and neither you love him. Would you let me do this to you if you loved him?” he pins her against the wall and her breath hitches. He found her sweet spot and nipped it while tightening his grip on her waist. “I can practically smell your arousal. You’re such a filthy girl. So bad you get turned on by ghosts,” Lewis mocked.

She purses her lips, darting her eyes to the ground and he dips his head to her lips, tracing her jaw and cheeks.

“You’re cold,” Yn states.

“I’m dead, of course I’m cold, honey.”

“What are you going to do with Eric?” There’s a hint of fear in her voice, and Lewis bites his lips and shrugs.

“I don’t know. We’ll see,” he widens her legs and fits his lean waist between them. “Now you should be worried about what I’m gonna do with you, or rather, what we’re gonna do together.”

And despite the fear and surprise mixed with confusion, Yn couldn’t help but shamefully feel aroused when he ground against her pussy, trapping her body between his and the wall.

“We’re gonna spend the eternity together,” he grinned.

Yn arched her brows, “But I won’t live forever, I’m a human, I-,” but the dark look in his eyes shut her mouth, all the answers she needed right there.

She would spend eternity with Lewis.

Maybe not as a human.

But she would, and he would make sure of that.

― ⋆🪩 VOICEMAIL: Hi, besties! I hope you guys like this piece! A huge shout out to Dee (@struggling-with-delia) for beta and proofreading this piece!🤍

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[winwintea]

dreamies as your disney world boyfriend

pairing ▸ boyfriend!dreamies x reader author's note ▸ i am working on the SERIES I PROMISE GUYS... it's just quite long... oops. i needed to channel my inner disney for inspiration for this sorry. the prompt seemed to make more sense in my head so i guess it's just, 'dreamies at disney' now lol. ALSO SOME DISNEY TERMINOLOGY in there i apologize. should make sense but if it's confusing ask me lmfaooo

mark lee

photographer boyfriend obviously 

doesn’t even complain about how many photos you want to take

is actually dying inside but hides it away with dad jokes to cope with the pain

“it’s not even noon yet and dis-knees are killing me bro” 

will only complain about the heat 

“It’s like we’re on the surface on the sun dude… like satan’s armpit. that’s crazzzzyy.”

you couldn’t help but laugh

but then he just KEPT GOING

“it’s like we’re in the inside of a mouth… there are things sticking to things that-” 

and you cut him off right there.

can’t help the fact that bro is a D1 yapper.

will not wear mickey ears though no matter how much you beg him to :(  

favorite ride: slinky dog dash

least favorite ride: dumbo

huang renjun

the boyfriend that actually disney bounds with you

so y’all are disney bounding as nick wilde and judy hopps from zootopia (renjun’s idea)

chenle took him to shanghai disney once, so he’s a big fan of duffy and friends

oh how disappointed he was when he realized that the mascots don’t exist in WDW

“preferred parking? i would prefer parking to be free, thank you very much.” 

mood is very sour upon entering

“i know you’re cold but i did tell you to bring a jacket.” rude.

however once you two start collecting your first character signature he’s locked in

somehow more excited to meet the characters than the kids are? (ur 24. reality check!)

he gets more into it as the day goes on

YOU BET HE’S WEARING THE MICKEY EARS. 

although he already had fox ears on to begin with anyways

favorite ride: mickey & minnie’s runaway railway

least favorite ride: seven dwarfs mine train (it was too short)

lee jeno

foodie boyfriend 

wants a turkey leg like really badly 

“that guy has a turkey leg… sir- um sir- where did you get that turkey leg”

you have to bribe this man with food.

which honestly is okay by you because you just wanna take photos of the food.

"yknow with this ride being 50 years old, you'd think they could've made the boats a little bigger. have to man spread now" 

whatever you’re thinking of, that’s literally not what he meant. 

he’s an innocent lil guy. (seriously, it just came out wrong.)

holds ur hand on all rides. 

let’s you grab onto his muscles arms while you are nervous on the thrill rides

no mickey ears though. (it’s the bow that always throws them off)

favorite ride: rise of the resistance 

least favorite ride: teacups

lee haechan

out of pocket boyfriend who will not stfu

“bambi’s the only movie i really couldn’t watch… i could not be as strong as bambi” 

after you give him the, “wtf” look he just continues. on.

“cause if my mom died well… there goes my friend group.”

will randomly start singing disney songs in the middle of waiting for a ride. 

in those show/ride/attractions he’s the only one clapping and screaming. 

especially true for the beauty and the beast sing-a-long attraction, cause yknow he’s gonna scream his lungs out.

yeah he’ll wear mickey ears, but you bought him a goofy hat instead. It was more fitting.

“can’t believe disney made a character after me… should i sue?”

also complains a lot. way too much.

“EPCOT? more like every person comes out tired.”

favorite ride: pirates of the caribbean (he kept making a booty joke over and over again)

least favorite ride: toy story midway mania (bc he lost)

na jaemin

hardcore boyfriend photographer (pt 2) + ‘mom’ boyfriend

man knows all your best angles and where to take photos

“picture, picture over here… yes yes right… in front of the castle angel. oh that’s so pretty… in… in… down… up… okay! smile!”

you two spend like half the day taking photos, jaemin needs to show off his gf ofc.

cares for you the whole entire day, makes sure you drink enough water

aggressively refills your waterbottles every second he gets. 

“when it doubt, chug it out! (cue jaemin chugging his own bottle)

he unfortunately will not wear mickey ears. (jaemin i believed in you.)

he’s not the one being taken photos of, so no mickey ears for him.

“princess i don’t wanna hear it. the humidity is good for you. this is like nature’s pore declogging.”

favorite ride: frozen ever after

least favorite ride: none (bc he did everything with u <3)

zhong chenle

in between buying you everything and calling everything too expensive boyfriend

HOW THE FUCK DID HE GET A MEMBERSHIP WITH CLUB 33.

this man pulls you into that sus green building on main street, and your jaw drops.

club 33, is an exclusive, membership only restaurant at disney. it’s like an elite society filled with rich upper class, but at disney. (never been inside not sure how to describe it but oh boy is membership expensive.) the waitlist got so long in 2007, they closed it for 5 years. look it up on wikipedia disney lore goes hard

“i just asked a couple of friends, and they recommended me this place.” boy.

you’re panicking because you’re severely underdressed. (you’re in a jessie costume.)

he reassures you, since you’re at disney, and being dressed like this is normal.

once u have one of the most expensive meals of ur life, chenle drags u to every single thrill ride.

he also buys you a balloon and a bubble wand <3

but for some reason when you arrive at the gift shop he realizes he’s spent a lot.

“okay enough gift shop. look away from the gift shop. this vacation already has us in poverty.”

AND BRO ACTS LIKE THIS THE WHOLE TRIP IM NOT KIDDING.

he’ll buy you a nice meal at one of the restaurants and then…

“we’re not getting churros they’re 5 dollars.”

no mickey ears either why do you even ask

“next time i’ll take u to shanghai, it’s better okay?”

favorite ride: tower of terror

least favorite ride: it’s a small world after all

park jisung

anti-disney everything boyfriend

gets frustrated at everything. cannot read the map.

when he goes on small world…

he severely questions his mental sanity. like actually guys i think he needs help.

“this ride is for kids.” 

the ride in question: the barnstormer! a 40 second kiddie roller coaster that has top speeds of up to 25mph!

literally jisung’s 13 reason. 

he was screaming his little heart out poor baby.

“I’m not wearing those. Stop.” you do not stop. “Take these off of me right now.”

he wears the ears for half of the day though so a win is a win.

“we’re going to the other park? we’re not going home? there’s 3 more??????”

favorite ride: none

least favorite ride: all

[wolven91]

A New Mattress

It was odd to have money. George was used to fighting for every penny then figuring out how to stretch that penny as far as it would go.

There was an old joke from George's home that two of his countrymen were fighting over a penny one day and the pair of them invented copper wire as a result. The shrewd business sense and unwillingness to pay over the odds or for something unneeded flooded through the veins of everyone that came from his area.

Granted, nowadays he didn't know how many of his countrymen yet lived. He suspected it was more than himself, he wasn't the only one rescued from his hometown, but he'd been shuffled and lost track of where they were.

Still, now that George was shockingly well paid for a job that wasn't particularly taxing or highly skilled, his bank account was looking healthier than it ever was before.

"Tell me again, why I have to get a new mattress? Mine *is* new. It's literally brand new, they 'printed' it for me when I bought my furniture." The human male asked.

"Because it's not about having a basic mattress, an Atlas one is important."

"Why?"

"Health reasons."

George blinked up at the tall, muscular adonis that was staring down at him, despite him being well over six feet tall.

The taurian woman who he was speaking with was originally one of the first of the aliens to talk to him like a normal person. Brellin was a hulk of a woman, with a set of horns atop her head that could gore someone quite viciously if she wanted to hurt them. Granted, Brellin was more of a lover than a fighter. They'd been talking about moving in together for the last four months, but she was adamant that she would never stay the night unless they got a specific mattress.

One that wasn't exactly the cheapest option. 

"So, your back hurts orrr...?" George probed. If it was that she had a bad back, he wouldn't mind getting the mattress, he had the money, he just abhorred wasting money. She had the body of a body builder, so it wouldn't be a surprise if she had hurt her back by over doing it in the gym.

"Let's say 'yeah' and drop it? I told you from the beginning. I need one of those if I'm staying over." One of her hands came over and caught his chin between a finger and thumb as she stepped forward and lifted his head gently, but without letting him have control.

"I don't mind just coming over for fun, but that's my rule. Get the mattress and we can have fun all night..." She promised, seemingly getting into the role of the seducer. It fine change now that the taurian knew the human was putty in her hands.

That evening, a new Atlas mattress was delivered and placed onto the oversized bed frame of George's home. He dutifully fit the sheets, having a mild fight with them, but ultimately winning.

As he waited for Brellin, he clambered up onto the bed and lay on it.

It didn't feel any different, besides the grooves cut into the mattress itself. It was made from an odd material and the grooves deliberately cut into the material gave the appearance of a diced mango still attached to the rind.

It didn't matter to him for long though, as his front door rang as Brellin arrived.

Several hours later, Brellin was storing up a storm and George could barely feel his legs but couldn't help the contented grin on his face. The taurians were apparently a race of incredible stamina and the fact that sex for them was a rare event, they were beyond the term 'eager'.

It took some mental gymnastics to get over the size difference. An eight-foot-tall body builder that wanted to use her tongue on every inch of him was certainly a change of pace, but George could make that sacrifice to keep her happy.

Still, her warm, finely furred body was incredible, and he wished to never have to stop her pressing it against him.

Unfortunately, he got his wish.

Unbeknownst to him, Brellin, was a hugger.

Completely asleep, satisfied as she was, the giant minotaur rolled over, the mattress barely shaking despite her huge size, and her arms reached out to find her lover. George woke immediately from his dozing when the power clawed hands grabbed his shoulder and bodily dragged him into her body as if he were no more than a pillow.

A heavy body fell atop him, and the air was forced from his lungs, it coming out in a whoosh of air.

Then she was still again, perfectly asleep and dead to the world.

George, however, was pressed firmly in the centre of her chest, her full body weight pressing down on him, crushing him. He couldn't get air, couldn't lift her, couldn't breathe!!

The only movement he could even do, was turn his head, thanks to the deforming nature of the mattress he was being pressed into.

Air!

Sweet, cool air weaved its way between the grooves of the mattress beneath him and the entrapped man sucked it in greedily.

After a few, the man reevaluated his situation.

He was currently trapped beneath his lover. She was beyond strong, far too heavy to move, and it looked as though she was going to be staying still for the foreseeable future. The mattress beneath him had deformed enough that he wasn't being crushed and allowed oxygen to reach him despite what should have been a crushing weight.

Thank god Brellin told him to get this thing before they had actually fallen asleep together...

After a few minutes, the human came to the conclusion that this wasn't the *worst* situation in the world. His view, limited as it was, was incredible. His world for the time being was limited to just Brellin and he could feel her almost covering every square inch of him.

He was 'stuck' here until at least morning, so the young man settled in, enjoyed what he could and rapidly fell asleep listening to the massive heartbeat and steady lungs of his lover.

[peachipeachy]

cool with you ☆彡 - ch. 01

(gojo satoru x fem!cupid!reader) based on the "cool with you" m/v by new jeans.

warnings: bow and arrows, slight mention of toxic relationships, use of (y/n), heavy denial of the reader being in love lolol, high school era gojo.

word count; approx. 1.5k

previous part here!

masterlist

-----

act i; accismus.

n. a form of irony in which a person feigns indifference to or pretends to refuse something he or she desires.

(where a cupid refuses to acknowledge her growing affection for the earth's strongest sorcerer.)

"the job of a cupid is a sacrifice. you are their rose-tinted glasses."

january, 2006.

three students sit underneath a large tree, using its size to protect themselves from the cool, winter wind. two boisterous boys, animatedly arguing, and a girl who couldn't care less.

"who gives a crap if you lost one pair of sunglasses?" geto suguru, the boy with long, dark hair and a cold glare says, "you have extras anyways,"

"it's not the same, suguru!" the snow-haired boy - gojo satoru - retorts, cheeks puffed and lips pouted, "those were my favourite pair!"

the bored girl, ieiri shoko huffs, removing satoru's glasses from her face.

"how did you even lose them anyways?" she asks, handing the pair back to its owner.

"i don't know! i took them off for one second, then the next thing i know is they're gone!" satoru whines.

lies. satoru gojo was lying off his ass here. in reality, he had taken them off to admire the various taiyaki he had bought. after reading about this exclusive pop-up store in shibuya from a magazine, the second-year student couldn't help but become giddy at the thought of tasting these so-called "heaven-sent taiyaki". and thus, amid his excitement, hadn't realised he had knocked his own glasses to the floor, only to be passed through kyoto's foot traffic and miles away from its owner.

placing the new glasses back onto his nose, satoru huffs.

"look, maybe you can retrace your steps tomorrow?" suguru offered, noting his friend's low mood on the topic, "it could still be there, or maybe some model citizen handed it to some nearby shops?"

"i guess..."

-------

despite being on good terms with each one of the cupids here, (y/n) still felt nervous. maybe it was because all of them were the ten high-rank cupids - the best of the best. and here she was, barely 16 years old but skilled enough for all of them to take notice of her. honestly, being that she was trained by the higher cupid, kalila, she wasn't that surprised that they called for her, her dedication to her job can attest to that. but still, (y/n) was nervous.

"what we are trying to say is simple, honey," haerin, the higher cupid on her left spoke, "we find that you're skills are advancing impressively, maybe in a few more years we could have an eleventh higher cupid at this table," despite haerin's sweet smile, (y/n) couldn't help but scoff internally. the job of a cupid is barely work. simply put, all they had to do was detect the romantic quickly and then act fast enough to initiate it before the moment passed. plus, it wasn't like the bonds she initiated were important. soulmate bonds - a human's final romantic bond is carried out by the higher cupids. the job of a cupid is simply a game of glorified snap.

contrary to how she felt, (y/n) smiled, bowing her head and thanking haerin for the compliment.

another higher cupid, alexei, moved to speak, "as well as that, (y/n) has had no issue with any distractions. its refreshing to see a cupid so young and so dedicated to her job," alexei spoke with a frown, his voice deep and intimidating, "we've seen too many of you fall victim to human love,"

(y/n) stiffened, suddenly extremely aware of the black-tinted sunglasses sitting at the bottom of her satchel as memories of a familiar pair of blue eyes played in her head. She had heard the stories of her peers - young cupids who become infatuated with human love, initiating romantic bonds between any humans passing by - not caring if they were compatible or not. no, these foolish cupids were simply obsessed with watching the spark of love over and over and over again, leaving harmful, rushed and dangerous relationships in their wake. and she was not like them at all. she was different; better. and the sunglasses at the bottom of her bag meant nothing to her...right?

-------

lost deep in her thoughts, the meeting flew passed, ending quickly. and the next thing (y/n) knew, she was back on earth. by herself. once again.

it was ironic, really. despite being messengers of love, a cupid's job is incredibly lonesome.

cupids rarely ever interact with one another, nor do they have any way to contact each other. that privilege is exclusively for the higher cupids only and is generally used to alert a lower cupid of a soulmate bond they are responsible for.

atop a building rooftop and soaking wet in the winter rain, (y/n) surveyed the moving crowds by shibuya station. sure, it was a bit more difficult detecting bonds through raindrops and herds of different coloured umbrellas but (y/n) is nothing short of a prodigy, and wasn't going to let water and a couple of thin, plastic barriers stop her.

bingo.

she felt it again, the beginning spark of a romantic bond. one red umbrella walking towards a yellow one. like clockwork, (y/n) took her stance, raising her hands as her trusty bow and one arrow materialised.

just as she's about to release the arrow, (y/n) feels her heart stop. a familiar mop of stark white hair stole her focus, and through the sea of umbrellas and raincoats, she noticed his eyes - bare, with no black-tinted barrier between them. now! she could give back his glasses now!

however, her dominant arm wobbled, and she suddenly remembered where she was. on a rooftop. with her bow and arrow. staring at red and yellow umbrellas. shit.

quick as a fox, her eyes tracked the red umbrella, letting the arrow fly as soon as she found it. and she did...seconds after it had passed the yellow umbrella. time stood still around her as she watched the red umbrella miraculously turn back around to face the yellow one.

"thank god," she whispered under her breath, that was too close of a call. she was almost distracted.

her arms fell back to her sides, brushing against the soft material of her satchel. oh right! his glasses! (y/n) rushed onto her feet, fingers digging through her bag. she will give back his glasses today...not because she wants to see him or anything! it was just the right thing to do. at least that's what she hoped.

-------

gojo satoru has a sweet tooth. even through wind, sun, heat and in this case, a rainstorm, he would never give up his daily sweet treat. so that's how he found himself outside a cafe on a rainy january afternoon, just a minute's walk from kyoto station, waiting for suguru to meet up with him. well, that and his unsuccessful search for his favourite sunglasses.

eyes shut, he held his flip phone up to his ear, "yes, suguru, i already asked if they had them,"

"and what did they say?" suguru's voice rang through the phone.

"they said no, and then i ordered some cheesecake to go," satoru replied, ignoring the way suguru groaned in response, "any luck on your end?"

"no," suguru replied, "maybe check around you, they could've ended up anywhere,"

"i doubt--"

his words died in his throat as a familiar presence entered his atmosphere. that girl. It has to be. his eyes flew open, darting around to find her.

nothing.

curious, satoru stood straighter, ready to start searching. he still felt her so she couldn't have gone far. before he could even take a few steps, a sudden rush of wind blew past him, almost knocking him off his feet. what the hell?

"hey! satoru! are you even listening to me?" suguru's distorted voice snapped him out of his confusion.

"yeah, yeah, what did you say?" he replied, half paying attention. he couldn't sense that girl anymore.

another sigh left suguru, "i said, i'm almost there, and that you should look around for your glasses if you're so determined to find this damn pair,"

satoru frowned, annoyed by the loss of both his glasses and that girl, "nah, i think i'll just wait for you," he took a step back, searching his surroundings before suddenly tripping over something.

frustrated, he turned to look at what it was - an arrow. sticking out of the ground. centimetres away from where he stood.

sure, being almost shot by an arrow was strange, but honestly, that was hardly the most confusing part about this. what stole his attention was the pair of sunglasses hanging from it. more specifically, his most cherished and most certainly lost pair of sunglasses attached to the arrow.

"what the hell...?" he muttered into the phone, bending down to pick up the arrow. it felt light, too light - like it could disappear at any moment.

"what? what happened?"

"nothing-- just get here as fast as you can, okay?" not waiting for a response, satoru hung up, inspecting his found glasses. did that girl have something to do with this?

-------

little did satoru know, that squeezed behind the trunk of a large tree stood a cupid, heart racing and missing one more arrow from her quiver.

a/n; hi!!!!!! okay so honestly im just throwing caution into the wind and writing this lol. thank you for reading this far and i hope you enjoyed it!

[en-geneisaxx]

'Please don't say that this the end for us...'

Pairings: Husband!Hoon x fem!reader

Warnings: swearing (you're gonna be on a rollercoaster of emotions)

Feat. Jay, Heeseung and Jake of Enhypen, Yeji (Sunghoon's sister), Jin Ae (Y/n and Sunghoon's child)

Tagging my moots who wanted to read: @pockettwinzz @diorsyun @heeslomll @heeslut4life @hoonieshoneymain @rinbowaman

A/n: OMG, I'M SO DAMN EXCITED, THIS WILL BE THE FIRST FIC I MAKE. BASICALLY MY DEBUT TO THE ENHABLR WRITER WORLD. I HOPE YOU GUYS WILL ENJOY!!

(Likes, reblogs and/or following me will be much appreciated!!)

Part 1:

Cheating was something you would never do. The thought of going from one man to another, kissing lips that had probably lost its virginity to another woman killed you.

'JAKE, YOU'RE AN ABSOLUTE DICK, YOU KNOW THAT!?' *Ends call*

You grab a fistful of your hair in fustration, vision blurring as tears threatened to escape.

'𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤.'

You wanted to disappear for the first time in your marriage. Why did you have to be in such a position?

Your heart clenched, lungs filled with such pressure that it made it impossible to breathe. You wanted to scream until you heard your child's confused blabbering.

'Eomma?'

She stands; soft, chubby hands cling to the white, painted wooden frame of her crib. Head tilted, gleaming eyes and perfect looks she got from her father stare at you.

With pity, you pick her up, sitting on the edge of your shared bed, nuzzling your head in the plush material. Alas, locked emotions rain from your eyes, staining the luxury clothes bought by none other than your husband himself.

'𝑺𝒉𝒆'𝒔 𝒈𝒐𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆...'

Those words clear up your fogged mind, consciousness crystal clear.

'𝑺𝒉𝒆'𝒔 𝒔𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒇𝒖𝒍...'

It was until then, you realised your kind-hearted child was kissing away those salty teardrops on your cheeks. You were suprised, how she was so alike to her father. Yet, you were grateful: he was amazing, of course.

'Hey Y/n, I-' His eyes widen, struck by the state you were in.

'WHAT THE FRICK HAPPENED HERE!?'

You were thankfuk Jay came. After all, he was Jin Ae's favourite uncle, so she'll be busy with him.

'Sunghoon still hasn't come back...' You sob, desperate for your husband to just hug you tight, professing his unending love for you.

'Something really has happened, hm?'

Jin Ae claps and giggles, oblivious to the saddening situation that took place. What could you expect from a two-year-old? She may be smart, but she still had a long way to go.

'Jin Ae-ah! Come to Uncle Jay.' He exclaims, forcing a smile.

'*groans* What's happening? First, I hear y/n shouting, now you're here. Oh, isn't it your daily get-together with Hoon?'

'Should've been, yeah.'

You were bewildered with the unexpected presence of the sister.

'Yeji, when did you get here? I don't remember you being here yesterday...'

'Hoon called me to look after you two. Actually, that's strange. Sunghoon would never leave you two...

𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫.'

You could pass out with the way you couldn't control your breathing. But it was the thought of finding your husband that kept you going.

'Jay...do you know where Sunghoon could be?'

'Your the wife here, not me.' He says sarcastically, yelping when Yeji slapped him.

'YAH, YOU SINGLE ASS UNCLE, DON'T MAKE FUN OF THE SITUATION. No wonder why you still got no bitches.'

'MIND THE LANGUAGE, WE GOT A CHILD HERE, DUMMY.'

You couldn't care less about the situation, just focused on finding your car keys before heading downstairs, grabbing a jacket on the go.

*buzz*

Frantically, you look for your phone, stumbling at times due to the lack of sleep.

(Calling:Heeseung)

You figured he was calling because he saw the 10 missed calls at 3am.

'Hey Hee, sorry for-'

'Meet me at the backgarden.'

A/n: GONNA DO PART TWO TOMORROW. IT'S JUST THAT I GOT TO WAKE UP IN LIKE 5 HOURS TIME

[samstclair]

Tommy Shelby's Barmaid

Tommy Shelby X Reader

Anonymous Request - 

Good morning/afternoon/evening/night Sammy Sammy yes I am! So check this out - I just saw Oppenheimer and came to the conclusion that I really miss seeing Cillian Murphy's face. So that night I began rewatching Peaky Blinders and am just in awe. So you know the point. I want to be his barmaid. No hate to Grace, love her, but let a girl just imagine. And that's where you come in. So yeah I wanna be his barmaid and sing to him. Maybe we're off to the races? Do your thing or else I'll might do a thing and report your account! :)

Word Count: pretty long

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"And where are we off to, Miss?" 

"One ticket to London, please!" you told the airport cashier, (or whatever they're called I'm not sure tbh), with your gleeful, bimbo smile. "The UK, one, thought. Not the Ohio one! Can't have that happening again!"

The lady didn't respond, she instead gave you a soft customer service fake ass laugh pretending she knew full well what you were talking about and kept her eyes down on the computer, securing that flight. You no longer trusted yourself to use computers or laptops, thanks to those Benadryl pills you used to be addicted to. But now that you were evicted from your New York apartment, you lost those pills in the process, and honestly all of your personal shit, so you've been forced to quit cold turkey and was actually experiencing withdrawals at the very moment. But, you couldn't let anyone know this! You needed to leave America fast. 

"Okay, to confirm your name, Y/L/N, Y/F/N, correct?" 

"Yes, ma'am!" You passed her your credit card and she did her magic, charging you a fuck ton of money!

The printer pooped out your ticket and she passed both that and your card back to you. 

"Enjoy your flight. Safe travels," the lady wished you. 

"Oh my god, girl, you too!" you wished back. You turned around and found your terminal, buying an expensive Starbucks drink of your choice and plopping your big butt down on a chair. You sat and looked around, sipping your coffee like a mother, taking in your surroundings of this little JFK airport they got going on. 

"I'm really a world traveler right now...like, I'm on some Lewis and Clark shit right now," you thought to yourself. 

You looked down at your luggages, or perhaps, just luggage. All that remained after your eviction just filled one Hello Kitty-themed suitcase you bought from TJ Maxx. You also had your rare vintage Juicy Couture purse you bought from Depop, thats faux leather was literally peeling off like dead skin, filled with all your essentials - lip gloss, nearly dead Elf Bar, crumpled up two-year-Goodwill old receipts, wired headphones because that's what cool people use walking down the street, crystals, loose hair ties, a baby Calico Critter, wire-exposed phone charger, and more that aren't too important to mention. You did miss all your other knick knacks and items that were lost, but since you were traveling light you 1. saved more money since it was just carry-on and 2. looked mysterious, just a girl on the road on her own adventure. 

"After all, items are just like - items. Things." you thought, trying to convince yourself that all material items are just not real and people don't really need those things. This is what you repeated to yourself over and over but in all honesty it wasn't helping. You were fucking pissed you lost all your shit. 

With all your items was your go-to airport fit - a Juicy baby blue tracksuit. So now you resorted to old PJ's you had shoved to the bottom depths of your drawer, wrinkled to the house boots down and forgotten of existence. They were a pair of Nike shorts and a baby tee that read "I <3 Surfer Boys". You then looked down to your white Crocs with the knock-off Jibblitz - the ootd would just have to do. 

As you sat in your terminal, waiting, you thought about what adventures UK would bring to you. You wondered what people you'd encounter, what new storylines you'd get wrapped into, what NPCs would say to you - it really did feel like you were fast-traveling into another country in a video game. 

Safe to say, you were ready for liftoff! Whenever that liftoff! would be because your flight was delayed like three times cause that's just airport things! This was the start of a new adventure! New and humble beginnings! No more America and their never-ending obsession with you committing financial fraud or whatever the IRS loved to say! But never mind that don't ask don't PUSH!!!!!!

Some hours later, you were finally able to board your flight. By this time, let's just say - people were fucking pissed about their flight being delayed, but you didn't really mind it. Yes, you were in a big time rush to leave America as soon as possible, but all that time waiting allowed you to finish the only downloaded show on your phone: LPS Popular. Shit was finally getting heated, Savannah Reed was def the no nonsense type of girl you envisioned yourself to be. 

Anyway whatever you boarded on, took your window seat and went through the usual bullshit of waiting for everyone to board on and take off and turbulence and random ass baby crying and shitty food and whatever. 

About a half hour in the sky, you looked through the catalogue of movies available - none which caught your interest. 

However, after scrolling for another half hour - you found the one. 

"Oh my god, a movie about two lovers flying in the sky staring Cillian Murphy and Rachel McAdams?!" you thought excitedly. "That's some good shit right there."

You hit that play button, scooted deeper into that seat, propped your patas up, and was subsequently locked IN for the short ass movie Red Eye. 

The majority of the plot went over your head because you were to entranced with the Irish actor's cunty little face, sassy little attitude and blue big orbs for eyes, causing you to replay certain scenes over and over. (Specifically that bathroom scene. You didn't miss SHIT there). That hour and a half passed by and the movie had finished. Safe to say, you were NOT expecting any of that shit to go down.

"If that were me, I'd call that fucking hotel before he even told me to. Shit. I get Mark Wahlberg, if I was on that plane, things really would have gone differently," you thought, shaking your head. ]

After your almost seven hour flight, you had finally made it to London Town. It was indeed a stormy day, he was right, but you could go outside and roam around, contrary to popular belief. In order to prep for this trip, you stuck to just watching British films, trying to get an overall vibe of what those little redcoats were like. Pride and Prejudice (2005), Love Actually, Trainspotting, Little Women (Greta's version), Clockwork Orange, Barry Lyndon - let's just say, your Letterboxd was going crazy. You sobbed pretty disgustingly to all of them, except Trainspotting and Clockwork, which made you feel just icky. And Barry Lyndon just made you angry fuck that guy fr. 

A/N - I just realized that Little Women, both Greta's version and the older 90s Winona Ryder one take place, in FACT, America. Oops! So yeah disregard move on u horndog <3

You once thought you were well-rounded on what chaos was, after all, you've been 1. in theater school, 2. briefly in the Medellin cartel, 3. worked in corporate America - but all of those experiences looked like fun Sunday pastimes the moment you stepped your fat butt off of the plane into London's Heathrow airport. Nothing could've prepped you for this shit. Too many people all doing different things in different directions was NOT your favorite place to be in! Let's just say - shit was hectic. 

You boarded off, left your terminal and gathered your one Hello Kitty-themed suitcase and bolted the fuck out, running at your highest speed possibly, your Crocs locked in their sports mode, you just ran. It's what you did best, your superpower some might say. Maybe since Ezra Miller is canceled for being a kidnapper, you could possibly replace the Flash? Who knows tbh. 

You ran so fast, miles and miles, (kilometers here!), you didn't realize you were now standing in front of the Big Ben. It was, admittedly, pretty big. Too bad you couldn't read time like that. 

You looked down to your phone to see your receipt - you needed to be back in three hours for your next flight to Glasgow, Scotland - your actual destination. This London shit? Yeah it was only a layover. But you couldn't miss it. 

You ended up missing it. You fell asleep on the big red bus, thinking you could sneak a little tour in before having to return for your next flight. By the time you woke up, it was morning, and you were alone, just you and your carry on. 

"Ello Miss? Miss?" 

Your eyes fluttered, adjusting to the brightness. A big English dude with missing and fucked up teeth was poking you awake. 

"Bro what?" you muttered, pushing yourself up. 

"Miss, it seems you've drifted off to sleep," the man said.

"Wait," you collected your thoughts, looked around at your surroundings, then down to your phone - your flight was seven hours ago. You felt your heart fall to the acidic pits of your stomach - 

"Ain't no fucking way I'm stuck in London", you blurted out.  "AIN'T NO FUCKING WAY!"

As if you took ten shots of DayQuil, you jumped up, scrambled for your shit and rocked the bus side to side as your Crocs took you across it, out to the exit and back onto the cobblestone streets of London Town. It was cloudy as always. 

"Oh no. Oh fuck. Oh no. NO I CAN'T DO THIS I CAN'T!" you yelled, running back towards the direction of that hell of an airport. You needed to get back. You NEEDED to get back to Scotland, you literally saw Trainspotting just for Scotland!

But alas, it was too late. By the time you made it back to Heathrow, there was no refunding. You would have to pay another fat BUCK to get on another flight. 

"Oh fuck that," you told the English lady. You walked back out, no way this little kingdom was gonna make a profit off of your ass. "I'd rather walk!"

And then you began to walk. Not run, you were a little hungry and needed some energy for that amount of dedication. 

You stopped by a tea place and thought that you might as well have a crumpet or whatever, which sucked ass. They charged so much for what?  A pastry with like three grams of sugar? Girl bye. 

You sat on the curb, looking down at your phone and opening a map, you could literally just walk to Scotland. Yeah it'd be a pretty fat walk, but you might get a crazy BBL ass for free from all the walking. 

"Babes? Are you alroight?" you heard a strong British voice call. You turned and there it was - a chav. A real fucking chav. 

"Oh my god, you guys exist?"

She furrowed her dark over-filled brows as she smacked her nude-lipsticked lips on a piece of gum. There were other chavs behind her, all bleach blonde, overly tan and red ass cheeks. It was like your friend group, but in an alternate universe. 

"Wot?" she asked again, more confused than offended. 

"Listen girl, I don't know if you can tell - but I'm not from here. I need to get to from the UK to Scotland. How does a girl like me do that?"

"Babes? Yor in the UKay, loike, this is London?"

"Huh?" you asked, like Trisha Paytas in the car. 

"Babes," another chimed in, "the UKay is loike, mooltiple places poot into one? Loike, England, Scotland, Ireland, Wales -"

"Oh, so they're all like, the same?"

Their faces dropped with fear. 

"Babes, don't say that. I've just met you, but I'd definitely tell you loike, don't say that around other peepol," the main chav warned. 

"Especially the Irish, yeah," another said. "They'd be mentool."

"Oh, no worries here. I'm an ally to all," you assured, "so do you know where I can rest for the night?"

"Babes!" the chav said excitedly, "I've got family in Birmingham! It's up norf, already on the way for yor travels! I'll text me nana so you can stay there fo free!"

"Babes," you said, you're cheap frugal ass getting hyped, "you're such a babe! Thanks girlie!"

You ended up dropping some money to take an Underground from London to Birmingham, because you then really realized your Crocs could only momentarily take you so far. Also, tat withdrawal wasn't doing you any favors. Anyway you enjoyed the ride, drinking some complimentary tea with your headphones in and disassociating as you looked out the window into the cement walls. You started to regret not bringing some sort of sweater because who would've thought a baby tee and Nike shorts would be enough. Shit was chilly. 

You stepped off into the platform, feeling a strong GUST of wind rush past you. You first kinda enjoyed it like it was some sort of main character moment, but the moment that ghastly smell of smoke hit your nostrils - you went frozen like Mitch McConnell. 

"Jeeeeeesus CHRIST!" you bellowed, "who fucking farted?"

You looked around, but soon became even more confused. Everyone was giving you the hardest stares you've ever received in your lifetime. But it wasn't their stares, no, you've been stared at before for worst things, it was cause of their - fits. 

Everyone was dressed like some 1900s shit. It reminded you of the show Downton Abbey, the show your old boss Logan Roy used to binge. Little particles of what looked like dandruff floated around you and everything else just seemed gray. 

"Wait, are you guys filming?" you asked in your bimbo self, smiling, "did I just walk onto set?"

No one replied. They really thought you were insane. There you were - rough looking, mid-withdrawal, I <3 Surfer Boys, old high school Nike shorts, Crocs, Five Below socks, Dollar Store sunnies, Hello Kitty-themed suitcase and Juicy bag, Elf bar in one hand and your phone with dangling earbuds wrapped around it. They were petrified. 

You grew angry. You just stood there as they stood there too - both you and the Downton Abbey cosplayers were in a stand off.  

"Okay whatever," you said, rolling your eyes. "Stay hating!"

You whipped around and began walking down the pavement, calling, or as the English say "ringing", that chav's nana. However, it rang and rang, you dialed and dialed, the lady was not picking up. 

"Um, what the fuck?" you said looking down at your phone, "can this girl pick up?"

You continued to dial, your other hand to your waist like a Karen. You continued to look around as it rang, really impressed with the set. 

It had been very foggy, and the cobblestone roads led down between old brick buildings where people in their 1920's costumes walked along, smoking and dodging the occasional explosion from the coal-burning coming from inside the buildings. Horses were trotting, carrying hay and other shit. People were yelling in their crazy accents and the dandruff kept raining down. Pillars up in the sky let out dark clouds of smoke. That gross exhaust smell still lingered, and no matter how much Nicki Minaj body spray you put on yourself, there was no way to mask it. 

"Great. I'm homeless AGAIN!" you thought, giving up on that nana. "Whatever. I didn't even want a roof to sleep under anyway. C'est la vie honestly."

The stares did not cease. In fact, it got worse. You knew you were hot but like what the fuck can't a girl just walk and bitches mind their business?

Things were getting worse. The cobblestone ass road made it hard for you to pull your suitcase, so you were just essentially dragging it, you phone was on ten percent, you were hungry and thirsty because let's be real you did not eat much on that train, and honestly just over it. 

You passed all the workers, dodged some random explosions, evaded random running children, spit some of that dandruff out of your mouth. Safe to say, you were angry but needed to persevere!

Eventually it was nighttime. You couldn't really tell if it was night or if it was just the pollution in the air at first, but after asking a random man he assured you it was indeed nighttime. 

"I don't know how you guys live with all this dandruff," you told him, shaking your head. "You guys must be getting paid good as extras."

"Dandruff?" the man said, "that's ash, luv!"

"Thank god, that makes more sense. I was thinking I was gonna need to buy some Heads and Shoulders. I hate Heads and Shoulders."

He continued to look at you weird while he smoke his, what you were pretty sure in the span of you two talking, sixth cigarette. "Heads and shoulders? Fuck are they to do with your hair?"

"I know, horrible branding. I feel bad for the people in Pompeii. They probably thought it was like, a dandruff epidemic."

Eventually the man directed you to the Garrison, which was supposed to be this pub or whatever that all the locals hit up. You really just wanted a drink of water and like Taco Bell or something. Maybe a "Macky D's"? By the time you made it to the establishment, it was midnight, since you took forever cause you kept getting lost. 

It was situated in a weird spot, where several men would occasionally run out and throw up bad on the dirt floor. It sounded hella noisy and rough in there, which was something you were not looking forward to. But again, you're hungry. 

"I'm fucking starving," you thought to yourself as you pushed those heavy doors open, your suitcase getting caught in them. A surge of anger caused you to yank it past the swinging door, causing the it to slam against the wall and crack the glass. You got scared cause you didn't wanna pay for it, so you applied the "hear nothing, see nothing" tactic. It always worked <3

Nothing could've prepared you for when you entered. The energy was just not it. Heathrow vibes for sure. Hoards of drunk ass English men doing, well, things that drunk English men do. They were yelling, cursing, fighting, just being overall very annoying and overwhelming. It took you by surprise, you were just in awe that English were real. It was literally like a Call of Duty lobby but the English colonized it as they always do.  

"These motherfuckers are crazy bro," you thought to yourself, getting a seat at the bar. The bartender made his way to you, and after some hesitation on his end, he finally spoke. 

"Em, what can I get you, ma'am?" he asked, looking at you confused. 

"Y'all got a menu?" 

"I'm sorry?"

"Food, bro. I want food." You were not having it. 

"I'm sorry, I'm afraid there's just drinks here."

"Fine, fucking alcoholics," you said, holding in your hangriness, "what about water?"

"Huh," he thought, "no one ever asks for water. I forgot we served it!"

He turned around and as he began to pour some crusty water into a dusty glass, you felt a tap on your shoulder. But before you could even turn to ask what the fuck whoever wanted what, another big burly English drunk dude was all up in your face. 

"ELLO MISS! MIGHT I HAVE A CHANCE AT BUYIN' YA A DRINK?"

You were flabbergasted. Dude REEKED of some ale. 

"Uh, you stink," was all you could muster, pressing your fingers on your nose. 

His face fell into a very angry one. "YOU FOOCKIN' JEZEBEL!"

You weren't sure what 'jezebel' meant so you just rolled your eyes and turned back to the new glass of water placed in front of you by the bartender, and before he could walk off you downed the entire thing. He, too, like McConnell, was frozen at your abilities. 

"Sorry about that man, Miss," the bartender said as he poured you another. "You're very pretty. Must be getting used to it by now around here."

"Yeah, like, about that," you started, taking your time with the water this time because you didn't know how much they had left in this place, "why is everyone cosplaying? Like, people here are DEEP into their character, which, don't get me wrong - I respect. I used to be a theater major myself, so I get it. But this is like, crazy. I know the English love their theater, but god."

The bartender, with a hypothetical gun to his head, could not for the life of him understand what the fuck you meant. You kinda got that vibe when he didn't reply right away. He actually looked worried for your mental wellbeing. 

"Um, why did you just like, disassociate?" you asked. 

"I'm sorry, Miss," he chuckled nervously, "you've just confused me, is all."

"Yeah, all that alcohol is giving you that early onset dementia. Do you know where I can get food around here?"

"Hmm," he thought, "I don't really know, to be honest with ya. And it's quite late, so I'm not sure what's open."

You could cry. You hated being hungry and tired at the same time, added to literally everything else that was happening around you. You were able to tune out the drunken men yelling behind you, but only to a point - mama was close to blowing. 

"Oh my GOD," you started. "WHAT'S A GIRL TO DO TO GET SOME FUCKING FOOD AROUND HERE?!" you caught yourself. The bartender was growing more concerned. "I'm sorry," you cleared your voice, "it's just like, your queen for real sucked."

"Queen?" he asked. 

"Wow, you're really dedicated to the craft. Like I said, I respect." You continued to drink your water. 

"How'd you end up here in London, anyway?" he asked, leaning against the counter. You later found out his name was Harry, like Styles. 

"Oh, buddy," you said, "what a story I have for you."

You then began to blabber on about what brought you to this point, which helped because it made you forget about your current grievances. Soon, the entire pub went dead quiet, tuned in to your story time. You felt like Tana Mongeau, and these were your viewers. You get why the majority of YouTubers were lowkey conceited. (Not Tana though she's funny love you girl <3). It was like a big kindergarten story time. 

About half an hour later, you were mid-way through. 

"And so, when my boss literally fucking died, I was like, 'oh shit, I've like lost my job by like, proxy'? It was scary."

"How'd he pass?" one of the drunk men asked. 

"Dude, get this. He died getting his phone out of the toilet. Like, some Elvis shit," realizing they wouldn't get what you just said, you thought it best to move right on, "anyway, I was like, 'maybe this is a good time to move on, maybe America isn't the place for me.' I was also wanted by the Men in Black, too. They don't fuck around."

"Who's the Men in Black?" Harry asked. 

"The IRA were after ya?" another asked, in shock.

"I. R.S. It's not important. So, after he died, one of his kids had to be chosen to take over the company. Imagine like a Game of Thrones sort of thing. My on-and-off boyfriend, Kendall, is the oldest so you'd think it'd be him, right? Like, his name was underlined and everything. Or crossed out, you know, is the dress blue and black or white and gold? The day of, I snuck into the building for the board meeting. I wasn't supposed to be there, cause you know, I'm not a share holder or whatever, but I thought 'if I act like nothing happened, maybe technically I'm NOT fired cause my boss died, maybe nobody will say anything?' Confidence takes you a loooong way let me tell you! So at the board meeting, I voted Kendall, but his stupid home alone ass brother Roman was like 'oh YOU'RE still here?'. Then he told me to fuck off and that I should've died with Logan? Could you believe that?"

They were all in shock, muttering angry English curse words to each other. 

"And then I was like, 'no fuck you. What ever happened to democracy? I don't have a vote?'. But whatever, Kendall didn't win and he left the building. No, Horton Hears a Who Tom won, and while everybody was celebrating I was like, 'guys? GUYS! ALL EYES ON WINDOWS! WHERE DID KENDALL GO? All eyes on windows!'. Then I got like, kicked out or whatever. I kept spamming Kendall, texting him and calling him and nothing. Like 'Kenny, wya???'. He was ghosting me. Then I saw right after he put his phone on Do Not Disturb. Targeted, really. I saw his location at Central Park, facing the water, and this had me WORRIED. Kendall and bodies of water? Yeah they don't mix well. I needed to talk to him before he jumped! But when I got there, his new dumbass body guard was like, 'Can you leave? He's not seeing anyone'. I kept calling him, and he wouldn't turn to look at me. He was like, mega dissociating watching that horizon."

"Must've killed him that he's no longer the number one boy," a drunken English man said, somber. 

"Def," you said.

"So you and Kendall?" another asked.

"No more. He never picked up, so I thought we were done," the men in the bar were devastated. "Yeah, really sad. I already mourned, though. So, yeah, I was like, 'what do I do now?' Logan gave me some money, so I can really just do anything? I was walking down the streets of New York and saw a random man in a suit I thought was the IRS, and it hit me - I'm lowkey a fugitive? I need to like, leave. Logan isn't there to protect me anymore, you know? And then it hit me - I'll go to Scotland! In Logan's honor! Like, his hometown. Plus, I thought Scotland didn't have extradition, but it was actually Venezuela. But it's okay, same shit. And that's why I'm here."

"But this is Birmingham?" another man said. 

"Oh, yeah, don't worry I fully aware. But yeah, that's it."

Again, the pub had been silent. They'd been intrigued, captivated. You waited for someone to speak up and break the silence, but about two minutes later you realized that wasn't gonna happen. 

"Okay? Anyway, so nothing to eat here?" you asked Harry. 

He shook his head, stunned. You then slowly crept off the chair, gathered your shit and saw your way out. "Weirdos," you thought. 

You exited back out, it was now fully dark with few lampposts shining light onto the falling dandruff. It all reminded you of exactly where you were - stuck. 

You slumped against the wall, onto the ground where you didn't see any of the mud that splashed all over your shorts. You were too tired and over it to give a fuck. You pulled out your phone, and saw the battery on 2%. 

"Man FUCK!" you exclaimed, "I know damn well none of these Lin Manuel Miranda stans built an electric socket." 

You went on to scroll mindlessly through your feed, which barely loaded because of the lack of signal. You were in the middle of spamming the refresh button until you received a notification from Snapchat that read, "One Year Ago Today". You clicked it open, forgetting you still had that app downloaded, and its contents nearly pushed you over the edge to start balling. 

You clicked play. 

"Oh, don't be a pussy, Greggguh!"

"Mumusdsfjks," Greg said, shoving more marshmallows into his mouth, "Chubb Bunif."

"Sorry, buddy, couldn't hear you!" Tom said, giddy, shoving his own marshmallow down Greg's mouth.

"You got it Greg!" you heard yourself say. 

You wanted to cry. You wished you could just go back to Waystar in that moment, playing the Chubby Bunny challenge with gay lovers Tom and Greg. 

"Man, I miss them," you thought. But alas, that was all gone now...

You quickly closed the video, going to your bank app to see how much money remained. After all, Logan DID leave you with enough, but you couldn't help yourself on those McDonald's breakfast orders through Uber Eats.  

Your tears quickly evaporated like they were put through the snap of Thanos when you got a glance of your credit score though. Oh no. 

"OH MY GOD?!??! MY CREDIT IS AT 400????!!? I'M LIKE, FUCKED?!???!"

"What's a credit score?"

You nearly shit yourself at the deep, sullen voice. You looked up and let's just say - you were intimidated. It's the terrorist dude from Red Eye. He wore a flat cap and a tweed little suit type of fit. 

But it wasn't the tweed that had you transfixed - no, it was those eyes....they were familiar. The last time you felt power of being in a trance like that were those Furbies... it forced you to look at them, you had lost all ability of self-control. They made you question yourself, your purpose and whole life being. They were commanding you with their uncanny valley vibe. Their immense gravity caused all time to slow...

"Dude, put those away!" you yelled, forcing your eyes shut and looking away. 

He didn't reply. 

"I'm sorry," you giggled, realizing he wasn't gonna reply to you and instead just stood there. "I'm just really hungry. You got anything?"

He thought for a moment. "Actually...we don't eat." He had a little sassy, matter-of-factly tone of speaking you fucked with heavily. 

"Yeah, that's why your official dish is tikka masala," a glance of that dish popped into your head. "Man I could fuck that up right now."

"I can take you to my office, I might have something there," he said. You agreed right after, anything would have to do. Little did you know, this would be the man who would save you. Not in a self-fulfilling sense but he'd grab you something to eat. 

You two made it to his office, some ways away. It was just a big ass dark room with tables in the middle, which you would later find out the betting on his horse racing took place. 

You sat down and he took off his coat and goofy ass hat, then went to the back for a moment. You looked around, you felt like you were in a dungeon. You looked down to your phone - shit was dead. 

He came back moments later, with a single loaf of bread he placed in front of you. He then took a seat across from you, took out a cigarette and did what the English do best, smoke. 

You were a bit taken aback, and it definitely showed, since his little sassy face got more sassier. 

"Well?" he bellowed, motioning to the food.

"Honestly," you started, not wanting to offend cause he did scare you (in a hot way), "I don't know what more I was expecting. I know Panera bread when I see it."

You began to eat, he just watched you. You would be annoyed had this been anyone else, but man was too fine. 

Some minutes went by, and he just smoked while you ate. He was definitely a man of few words. 

"You're so mysterious," you said. "Is that your character?"

He took in a big puff and put his feet up on the table like he owned the place, cause he literally did. "You don't belong here."

"Yeah, no fucking shit. I'm supposed to be in Scotland."

"What's in Scotland?" he asked, tapping his cigarette into an empty whiskey glass. 

"Bagpipes, I've heard."

He then leaned to the side, grabbing his cigarette case out and offering you one. You declined. 

"It's okay, I don't like cigarettes. They're gross," you went inside your bag and pulled out your crusty geriatric Elf Bar that was on life support, "here, try this! She's my sidekick!"

He stared at it, not a thought behind those eyes. He then rose up. 

"What about a whiskey, eh?" He went to a table against the wall and poured two glasses. You shrugged at his decline of your Elf Bar, and took some shitty hits cause girl it's dead give it up. 

As he had his back to you pouring the glasses, you really thought about how manly he was, in a way all those Ryan Gosling Drive stans love. He reminded you of those mafia boss fanfics you used to read. The way he spoke was so low and serious, but it made your feet rock like crazy!

He turned back around and placed your glass in front of you. Before he sat, he took a swing of his and literally drank it all in one shot like an animal. Wanting to impress him, you did the same, but soon regretted it right after. You'd tried whiskey before, but that was just not good. It was so strong it burned your esophagus, causing you to feel like you had strep throat all over again. You nearly gagged and threw it up but you couldn't let Tommy see you that way. He was staring. 

"Jesus Christ," you said in a raspy, chain smoker voice, trying to smile through the pain, "that's some real shit right there. I'd much prefer a BuzzBall."

"What brings you to the UK?" he asked again, a little more interrogating. 

"Fine. I'm avoiding parole."

"Parole?"

"Have you ever been on parole?" you asked. 

He took a moment, your question hit hard. "Ever since men like me got back from France, we've always felt we were on parole under the king." He had a sadness to it, which then made you kinda sad. 

"Aww, you're a parole baby <3."

He rose his brows in a "yeah this girl off it" way. 

"Does France give you bad memories?" you asked, wanting to know both out of being a nosy bitch and seeing if you could break him. 

"Most nights," he said. 

"Don't worry, me too."

"You served?"

"I might has well have," you replied, thinking of that past life living with your old boyfriend. 

"I wasn't aware women served."

"We always do," you assured. You kept looking into his eyes like it was a staring contest. 

"What's it you're looking at?"

"You have a very, no-nonsense cunty face. Like BBL," you first smiled telling him that, but it then reminded you of when you told your old boyfriend Kendall the same thing. The thought of him made you sad, you wondered where your number one boy was now...

You didn't realize but Tommy noticed your change in demeanor, initially believing you were thinking about your time during the war in France. He rose and grabbed another drink, placing one in front of you as he killed his in less than a second. 

You snapped out of your sadness. "Oh, no thanks. I don't think I can have anymore. This trip will definitely be very detoxing for me."

You two then sat in comfortable silence for some time, as if you two were both mourning after the innocence lost before France. You were something different for him, a new comfort he couldn't find much else in that polluted ass city. And you found comfort in him, he really did seem like he needed fixing. But that's not what you do, no no, he's a grown ass man and can fix himself. You'll just watch from the sidelines <3. 

Eventually, you stayed in Birmingham. Once you were aware that your money had no value in the UK, you realized you needed to be employed again to save up for Scotland. Dollars, turns out, did not equal shillings and pounds or whatever. Tommy hooked you up after finding out your situation and generously gave you a job at the Garrison as a barmaid, along with Harry, who in time, became your BFF. It wasn't that hard of a job, these men never mixed any drinks and would instead have their alcohol straight like a bunch of monsters, so you kinda ate at this job. Another perk was that these 1920s bitches loved thin eyebrows, so your Y2K overplucked eyebrows fit right in! Full circle shit!

But perhaps the best perk was when Tommy would come in every so often and give you a little LOOK. Oh that shit made you rabid yes it did! It made you all hot down there and you couldn't handle it! You two barely spoke, as he would go into the side room for meetings and whatever mumbo jumbo he got up to with his brothers, but when you did you did your best to bring out that old femme fatale. You knew damn well he'd fuck that shit up. And let's be real so did you. 

You knew that you had Tommy in your CLUTCH when he was once lecturing you - basically there was talk about some Billy Kimber dude amongst him and his brothers and the members of the gang, but you couldn't get past how fun it was to say the man's name, especially in their wild ass accent. You kept incessantly shouting it, to what you thought was a joke, "BILLY FACKIN KIMBA" in every possible moment you could, but it would send all the men into a paranoid shock thinking Billy boy was just around the corner. Obviously, he wasn't, in fact you couldn't point out who Billy Kimber was in a crowd of English, but let's just say - it sent them for a sheer panic. They would constantly tell Tommy to get you to stop, since it was bringing back war trauma basically and never felt fear like that since the war. You personally thought they were being a bunch of pussies but whatevs. 

Anyway Tommy found you at the bar after closing and wanted to have a serious talk with you - no more random BILLY FACKIN KIMBA. As he was lecturing you on the dangers of it, you actually started to disassociate in those eyes of his. You then started to think, 

"What if I just grabbed his hat?"

Those intrusive thoughts grew stronger and stronger as the moments flew by and the more his voice became a bunch of muffled nothing. And they won. 

"GOTCHA HAT!" you spat before taking his flat cap off and running with it, jumping over the bar on some parkour shit and pushing those doors open onto the grimy streets of Birmingham, in an excited manic.  You ran for nothing, since you didn't notice in the adrenaline of it all he didn't move an inch and instead just stood at the bar, stumped. From that point on, he knew you weren't like other girls. Cause let's be real who in their right fucking mind would do that to Tommy Shelby? You did girl xoxo <3

But when your image with Tommy REALLY hit home for the guy, it was one night. One very special night...

You were working the night shift at the Garrison, again. It was another rainy day in London Town, and you were all alone cleaning up. You started to think about Gabbie Hanna, and how low key right she was. You continued to rap to yourself, 

"♪ Overwhelmed, overworked, overpaid. I'm on top of the world sitting pretty ♪ -" 

The doors flew open, causing you to jump pretty high up. You looked to the entrance, it was Tommy. And man was drenched and tired looking, your fave combo. 

He walked over, behind the bar and poured himself a glass of whiskey. He was always a little emo and to himself, but something about him now was really depressing, like man's definitely going through it.

He then took a seat at a table, and looked at you with dead eyes. 

"What's with the frown?" you asked, trying to lighten up the mood but was severely unsuccessful. (Unbeknownst to you he literally just had to put down a horse he thought was cursed :/ it's a canon event!)

He didn't reply. Surprise surprise instead he just drank his whiskey done. You chewed your gum, clueless. 

You just continued to clean, continuing Gabbie's rhyme in your head. 

"♪ Overwhelmed, overwork, underpaid ♪ -"

"Can you sing?"

You turned around again. He fr sounded sad asf. It shocked you, cause did he like, read your mind or sum? 

"Uh, yeah. You want me to sing?"

"Every barmaid knows how to sing."

"Okay, sure. Like acapella?"

He just stared at you, lost again with your mumbo jumbo. 

"Well, I know Lana, I know Nicki, my ex had a song L to the OG-"

"Lana. She sounds nice."

You nodded. "She really is, I love her. Okay, I think I know a song."

"Stand up there," he pointed to a table. You were a bit hesitant, the last time you did that you ate shit like that one girl on YouTube who was also singing on a table and ate shit. But it was for Tommy so you did so anyway. 

You climbed up, took out your gum, flicked it in a bucket, cleared your throat, moved your hair out of your face, and fixed your posture - this was your Pose moment tonight, and Tommy's Billy Porter. 

You then started to sing White Mustang by Lana, but the moment you got to the chorus, which was, well, White Mustang, he told you to stop. 

"Something else, please," he asked demanding yet softly.

"What? Too close to home? Don't worry, Lana does that," you assured, "here, I'll sing a song that hits close to me, it's called How to disappear, it's what do when I'm trying to run from the IRS."

You cleared your throat again and started to sing and girl you ATE THAT SHIT!!!!!

You hit those fucking notes, you were lost in your little own world envisioning yourself in a music video. You understood why America's Got Talent contestants were nervous, cause the pressure? Yeah it's real. And not only is Tommy Billy Porter, he's also Simon Cowell - a yes from that Brit would secure your spot.

Speaking OF Tommy, because momentarily you forgot he was there with you - the man was enthralled, ENCHANTED. He sat silently, the rainwater dripping down his face, as he was taking in every small gesture you made, taking in every musical note that came out of your BBL mouth, (even the voice cracks), and just taking, well, you in. At that very moment, he was in love. YOU were the femme fatale he needed in his life, the one that would complete him, make him feel whole, and would give him purpose. 

Once you were finished, you snapped back into reality and realized you actually weren't in a music video. You looked to Tommy, whose face barely made any other emote other than the one where he looked like he was annoyed, staring up at you. A wave of anxiety flooded over you - you were the center of his world right now, and that pressure was too hot!

You quickly climbed down, and flashed him a big smile. 

"So?" you asked, now LITERALLY feeling more grounded on the ground. 

He didn't respond at first. Moments later, he did. 

"Do you have something nice to wear?"

"Like what?"

"A dress?"

"Um," you thought, trying to remember the contents of your Hello Kitty-themed suitcase, "maybe. Why?"

He rose up, getting ready to leave from the fear and insecurity of the emotions he just experienced. "I want to take you to the races."

"We're gonna race?"

"Horses. Horse races," he corrected you, making his way to the exit. "Be ready by tomorrow, I'll collect you before noon."

"Oh my god, like a date?" you were too slow to come to the conclusion because by that time he'd already left. The excitement quickly mixed in with the anxiety, which wasn't the best feeling in the world. You knew in anticipation for tomorrow you were gonna need SOMETHING to take the edge off, so before closing up you snatched some bottles of alcohol to take to your flat. You weren't really sure what exactly they were, but what you did know was that it was gonna taste like fucking ass. But when mama needs her go go juice, she TAKES her go go juice.

The following morning you woke up at the crack ass of dawn to get ready - you knew you needed TIME. Not that it takes a while for you to get all pretty, girl you're already naturally stunning! but time and place - you needed to stunt today. Also, you already weren't a morning person so you didn't trust yourself to snooze. Actually, you barely slept at all last night since you were too caught up about what makeup you were gonna do, how you were gonna style your hair, what dress to wear and most of all, your ass was just asked out by Tommy. You wondered if this is how nervy the soldiers felt when they encountered bin Laden's bunker. 

You had already finished your makeup and hair, looking pretty snatched. Too bad your phone's been dead for the past couple of weeks and you couldn't take pictures. But anyway you did the usual 1920's makeup tutorial you remember watching on some Buzzfeed video a while ago, pretending you were doing a Vogue makeup tutorial in your mirror and talking step by step your process. You curled your hair into the 1920's bob they were obsessed with back then, packing on an obscene amount of gel just to keep that wave stiff. You struggled but nonetheless you got it girl. 

You were now staring at the remaining contents of your Hello Kitty-themed suitcase - let's just say, you had nothing. That's a lie you did have SOMETHING but was it appropriate for the time? No. Like if you're going to the Renaissance Fair, your ass isn't gonna wear some Skims ass dress. But guess what? That's actually all you had. 

It was a black, tight, spaghetti-strap slip-on dress that was above the knee - definitely NOT the vibe for the era, maybe a bit too revealing? But what other choice do you have? You're I <3 Surfer Boys tee? Exaaaaactly. 

You slipped it on and was taken aback - you know how you forget how good you look when it's been a while since you've dressed up and you actually surprise yourself? Yeah that was you right now. Kim would be proud to see you in that dress, in fact, she'd probably cheer you on to wear it proudly at the races. Even though she wasn't your favorite sister, you imagining her company right now really did help.  

You kept feeling yourself in the mirror - girl you looked GOOD. You put on some black heels, some perfume and that was it - you were simply that bitch now. 

"Oh my god," you thought to yourself, "Tommy's gonna flip. Shit, I'd get with me."

And just like that, you heard the honks of a car coming from outside your flat. You peered through the window, and there you saw some vintage, rinky dink ass car. 

"Oh, fuck!" you shouted, mainly to yourself, but they heard. "Coming!" you called out the window. 

It was actually happening - oh fuck he's here oh yes he is. Quickly, you grabbed one of the bottles you confiscated and took the fattest swig. It was the most horrendous, grotesque warm vodka you've ever consumed. But it would have to do.

You quickly made it downstairs, taking a moment before appearing outside to calm yourself down and make it seem as if you effortlessly just went down some stairs without a care or worry in the world. You made sure to grab a fur coat, faux of course, and your keys. 

Down by the car was Tommy in the driver's seat, with his two brothers, Arthur and John, seated in the back. They all looked at you in awe - they had never seen so much of a woman's legs in their entire life. 

"Bloody foockin' hell, Tommy! What do we have here?!" Arthur exclaimed. 

"Jesus, Tommy," said John, "I didn't think it was bloody possible for you!"

Tommy stared at you for a few seconds longer, a bit taken aback himself. 

Tommy ignored his brothers and exited his side, helping you into the passenger's. You got a whiff of his cologne that brought out an animalistic, innate horndogness of you that you remembered to keep in check. Now was not the time but it was admittedly hard cause the man just looked so good. 

He climbed back into his side, then started driving off, the cobblestone road causing you to feel even more nauseous than you already did. You didn't realize it, but you were mute for the first ten minutes from how disassociated you were. That vodka was hitting deep and swimming in circles in your empty tummy - you hadn't had breakfast, essentially raw dogging and running on nothing, because you knew if you munched on some Panera bread, you would've thrown it up from the nervousness. You were now really accepting the fact that it was a grave mistake. 

"Well, what's wrong with her?" Arthur bellowed, "is her bloody tongue cut off?"

Tommy gave you a quick little side eye, then fully turned to you after realizing you were, indeed, gone. 

"Are you alright?" he asked, concerned with a TOUCH of attitude. Or maybe they were both the same you couldn't differentiate it when it came to Tommy. 

"Uh, yeah," you cleared your throat and sat up straight, "just really taking in the moment, you know? It's my first race."

Tommy turned back to the road. 

"You guys look great!" you complimented, wanting to move on. 

"Why thank you, Miss Y/N. I shall wear your kind words like a medal from tha war," said Arthur. "You look like one of them silent film stars!"

You blushed. "So, wanna listen to some music?" you suggested, hating sitting in quiet cars.

Tommy scrunched his brows. "What do you mean?"

You looked down to where the touchscreen on the car WOULD be, forgetting this car was quite literally just a box on wheels with an engine attached. AUX and Bluetooth are not in the vocabulary of these people's brains for another couple more decades. 

"Like, carpool karaoke," you suggested. 

"What?" John asked. 

"Bloody hell is that?" Arthur also asked. You also forgot, these English men wouldn't face the atrocity that is James Corden in ALSO a couple more decades. 

Tommy scoffed, a small little smile on his face but nonetheless a smile. He gets it. "Singing. She likes to sing."

"Is that right?" smiled Arthur, "wow, you've really done a number on Tommy boy over here! He's now a fan of the musical arts!"

The two brothers began laughing and smacking Tommy on the shoulders and head in a playful, men-in-a-gang, manner. He smirked. 

"I'll start, I have the perfect song - this one's called Off To The Races," you turned to Tommy, "also by Lana."

You two smiled at the little inside joke y'all had going on now. You then started singing, really into it like the night before. You were hitting those "scarlet, starlet" notes a little too good. Once you wrapped up, you left the three men in a silence that lasted for a couple minutes. Except Tommy, he was always silent. But his brothers were a little confused, but decided to just roll with it since you made Tommy happy. You thought they were just floored by your abilities. 

"Lovely," John finally said, hesitant and low to break the silence.  

"You've got yourself a bloody mental one here, Tommy," said Arthur. Tommy smiled, you were indeed a little unwell but it was okay to him. So was he <3

It had been about an hour after your arrival, you had been helping yourself to a shit ton of food by a table, stocking up like a bear ready for hibernation. You were literally the only one there, and you assumed so because the cigarettes and alcohol these Brits were fucking up were acting as appetite suppressants. Your fat ass wasn't complaining. 

Besides being the only one actually eating something of nutritional value, you were getting HEAVY looks and side eyes for your outfit. You didn't care, your ass looked good from all the walking around the pub you've been doing. Upon entering, Tommy noticed the looks to. You whispered in his ear, "it's cause none of these interbred Habsburg jaws know what a real woman a real BITCH looks like 💅." 

He didn't get exactly what you meant, but got the vibe and he liked it. He, actually, loved that you were the center of attention here, as you SHOULD be. Afterwards, he told you he had some business to attend to and knowing you were hungry, led you to the food table. He said he'd get you after he was done, and man was taking his time. But again you didn't care you were just munching away. 

"Try the scone, darling, it's absolutely dashing!" a rich, socialite said to you. Her costume was just as amazing as everyone else. 

"You know, I've been avoiding it but, maybe I will. Why not?" you smiled, grabbing one and taking a chomp. It tasted like actual ass but you have a great poker face. You moaned like Mark Weins, even hitting his crazy facial expressions. "It's great!" you mumbled. She smiled and talked on about something you didn't really pay attention to. 

Eventually, Tommy came up behind you and grabbed your arm gently. Had this been any other man, you would've pistol whipped them in the face with the rock of a scone in your hand, but it was Tommy so you just got all the butterflies inside. You turned and smiled, chewing your food and swallowing it almost hole to say something and not just stand there. 

"Fhey Tomyif," you mumbled through the dry scone. 

"Feeling better, eh?" he said in a low tone. He seem a little more cheery, which made you cheery. He was enjoying himself, as he should. And so were you, as you should. Let's just say, the vibes were good. 

"Omg, def," you said, finally swallowing the last bit of food, "you know, you should try eating something. I know you don't do it much, but, I feel like it can be a great experience for you."

He looked into your eyes. He loved that you cared. A soft smile came on his lips. 

"Not hungry."

You thought for a minute. "But like, I'm pretty sure you haven't eaten since France."

"Maybe later. Do you dance?"

"Do I dance? With a little spicy marg in me, Tommy, it's over." But alas, the bartender would have no clue what a spicy marg was, so you kinda had to retract your statement, "But no yeah I can dance sober too no biggy."

"Good," he said, grabbing your hand gently and leading you to the crowded dance floor. You turned back to wave at the socialite lady, who gave you a little wink. My girl knew you scored. 

All you knew was that the Brits LOVED their Charleston dancing, something that you definitely needed Just Dance to teach you. But she wasn't here. You were frightened at the thought, but when Tommy pulled you in, and you two just started going at it, it was as natural as your BBL ass. That one Pride and Prejudice dancing sequence had you mastered in the art. 

With his hand at your waist and the other in your hand, and your other hand around his neck feeling his buzzcut, there was no force on this earth that could stop you. You honestly just moved your legs around and were great. 

Up close to him, you were again in touch with his cologne. You needed to control yourself, but it didn't help that he was like three inches from your face. In this sea of people, it just felt like you two and no one else. 

As you two were fucking up that dance floor to that 1920s jazz music, you looked around at the other faces of people dancing around you. Some you caught staring, others pretended not to. You smiled at the fact your hot ass was intimidating. 

"Man, if I were to do the Woah here, they'd all lose their fucking minds," you thought. "What if I like, just started twerking? No, I can't. I can't let them win."  You knew those intrusive thoughts cannot get another W against you again. The last time that happened, you were expelled from theater school. You couldn't, you couldn't embarrass Tommy - but the urge was too strong. 

Almost as if Tommy read your mind, he pulled you aside the dance floor. 

"I want to introduce you to someone," he said. He then took you to a table where a man with the craziest middle part and mustache sat, beside another who looked like an owl with glasses and other carbon copies of English dudes. At the table was a fuck ton of coins and money, along with drinks and clouds of cigarette smoke from ashtrays. 

"Y/N, this is Billy Kimber. He owns the tracks here," Tommy said. Oh my god it's him, its Billy fackin Kimba...

You weren't sure why Tommy would introduce you, but you took it as a compliment. Maybe he just wanted to stunt on this guy? Who knows. 

The man with the goofy ass fucking name had a wry grin on his face that you did not like at all. The vibe was not good no more around this guy. He stuck out his hand to you, and you obliged very hesitantly. He grabbed your hand and kissed it. With that a wave of disgust flew over you, feeling as though you've been stained. Ew gross. 

"Lovely ta meet ya," the man said. He rose, "Mista Shelby, might I ask your lady for a dance?" 

"Oh, no thanks! <3" you said, a welcoming smile on your face. Tommy and Billy both looked at you as if you just said the most out of pocket shit. The owl man and English robots also gave you daring looks.

"Wot?" Kimber spat. 

You almost laughed. 

"Uh, yeah like, I don't wanna dance." you said, mimicking Tana Mongeau's "a bleach and tone".

Billy saw absolute red. He was livid. He turned to Tommy, who, too, was speechless. 

"The fuck are you on about?" Billy spat again. You really weren't sure what he didn't understand.  

You then realized - there was no getting out of this. You didn't want to cause a scene, cause you kinda already did. So you again invited those intrusive thoughts. 

"Fine," you said, clearing your throat and standing straight. "I'll dance."

You then pretended to throw something in the air, looking up in an anticipatory, worried way. They all looked up too, confused. 

"Oh my god, do you see it? Mr. Kimber, where is it?!" you said as if a bomb were to fall. 

He looked up and then to you, growing increasingly worried. He was too in shock to speak. 

"Where is it?! Where is it?! Do you see it?!" you kept looking up at basically nothing, but you knew it was something. You kept them on their toes, scared at this point. Your feet dancing softly, they were ready for impact. It was time to come down. "There! There it is and -"

With that, you pulled it down and committed the hardest, most nastiest Woah you've ever done. The last time it was that riveting was during middle school lunches. 

When you brought that down, the pose you ended on had your head down and body limp, as if you were Aang in the Avatar state during the episode where he was fighting Zuko's papa and had to unlock and harness such force.

You left them taken aback, disoriented. They didn't know what to do or how to react. You looked fucking insane. 

You took a deep breath and stood back up straight, satisfied. Once you realized that the room had fallen completely silent, even the musicians, you felt you needed to excuse yourself. 

"Um, so," you struggled to find the words. You felt the anxiety creeping up again, the lightheadedness arising. And most of all, it was time for you to empty yourself. "I've, uh," you thought harder and harder - "I'VE GOT AN ITCHY BUM!"

You split, running and running as fast as your pumps could take you. You ran and ran, it was always the most liberating activity honestly. All that dancing with Tommy, the nerves piled up along with the hors d'oeuvres - they lead to this very moment. 

You searched round and round, desperately for a bathroom. No where in this bitch was there a sign or indication, and time was running slim. This was some real Mission Impossible, Tom Cruise is on a time crunch, shit. You pushed through crowds of drunk, belligerent and yelling people, feeling your body slowly succumb to the intense body heat. 

Eventually, you spotted a familiar face. You ran. 

"Arthur!" you yelled. He spun and looked back to you. 

"Y/N! What is it?" he asked, worried. You looked a bit wild. "Are you alright? Where's Tommy?"

"He's fine, he's," you thought, "somewhere. Look, it doesn't fucking matter."

"The mouth on you -"

"Where the fuck is the bathroom in this bitch? Huh? The loo? The toilet? The washroom whatever the fuck y'all call it?"

"Well, I was on me way. It's just over there -" he pointed and you bolted. 

As you were entering, you literally ran full force into the socialite from earlier. She wasn't angry, just like Arthur, worried. 

"You look absolutely GHASTLY darling!"

"Girl move -"

You went into one of the stalls and laid your worst. Thankfully since it was a Skims dress, all you had to do was pull your Victoria Secret thong off and go. You felt bad for the ladies in their dresses and stockings and shit here - convenience was definitely not a factor yet. 

After you cleared your business, (and subsequently the whole bathroom), you stepped out of your stall, refreshed and effortless. You washed your hands, fixed your hair and makeup just a bit in the mirror, and felt yourself again. You took mental selfies, since it was all you had. 

As you left the bathroom, you heard the grunts and yells of men. It wasn't an uncommon occurrence, but it sounded like some shit was fr going down. You crept to the source of the noise, coming from the men's bathroom. At first, you thought someone was probably constipated, but instead it was Arthur, John and a few others absolutely rocking this guy's shit. They were beating him, cutting him with the razors sewn into their goofy caps, and curb stomping his head into the sink. So sink stomping? 

You made a gross face and walked back out. "Yeesh."

After all, it wasn't the first time you were so close to the mob.

 You remember your number one golden rule you learned from earlier during your time with Pablo: Hear nothing, see nothing!

After walking past the dance floor again, you were relieved to see that everyone and everything had gone back to normal - people were back to dancing, drinking and chatting - back to the script. You actually forgot this was supposed to be a horse race. 

But, there was no Tommy anywhere. You searched and searched, yet you couldn't find that 75% shaved head anywhere. 

You then walked back outside by the entrance, where you saw a woman smoking. You went up to her. 

"May I bum a smoke?" you asked in your best English accent, trying to speak their language. She turned to you and pulled one out, lighting it for you. "Thank you so much, you look lovely, darling."

The woman smiled. You loved hyping the girls up!

"You too. I must admit, I find your choice in wardrobe absolutely admirable and daring!"

You smiled, "Aww, really?" you quickly corrected your accent, "Oh dear, many thanks, many thanks yes."

You took a hit of that cigarette. Shit was gross. But when in Rome...

You and the woman spoke for some time, deep in conversation. It was refreshing to meet another girl here, safe to just talk shit and have a break from all the drunken men and oh no there's Tommy. 

You saw him approaching you and he looked again, upset and emo. It didn't exactly burst your bubble, you really liked Tommy, but were afraid that you possibly embarrassed him in front of the Bilbo Timberland from earlier. 

You bided the woman goodbye and walked towards Tommy. He then took you two back to his car and started off onto the road. By now, it was nearing evening. The car ride was pretty silent, you were looking out admiring the brief countryside. Shit was beautiful like a Microsoft Home Screen. 

"So, what's wrong?" you asked. "You're like, down in the dumps again. And where are your brothers?"

"They'll find their own way home," Tommy said, low and serious, the usual. 

"So is that it? Y'all got into a fight or something?"

He let out a deep breath. "I told Billy Kimber he could have a dance with you."

"Ew, why?"

"Well," he didn't want to say 'business', cause like okayyyyy shout out to 1920's gender roles!, "because you look...nice. You look pretty."

You blushed hard, trying to control your smile. Seeing this side of Tommy was like a sneak peak, it was so exclusive!

"Oh my god, Tommy, are you flirting with me? I didn't even know you had that setting available!"

He smirked, his frown OFFICIALLY being turned upside down. He chucked in disbelief of himself. He was falling. 

Once you made it back to the neighborhood, the sun had gone down and the streets were once again pretty dark. Smoky depressing England like what the Smiths wrote about you get the vibe. 

Anyway he took you to his flat, saying that he wanted to "show you something". You weren't sure what that something was, it could've honestly been like a dead body but actually it wasn't! It was dinner <3

"I've uh," he started, not crazy about the fact that he was falling for you, "I've prepared dinner."

You gasped and made a very soy ass face. How absolutely gentlemanly of him!

"Oh my god, no you didn't Tommy!" you said, "You're so sweet, that's like, so sweet! You shouldn't have!"

He smiled softly, in a "yeah I did that" sort of way. And he did just that. You were 90% sure whatever was inside he didn't cook, but it's the THOUGHT that counts!

He escorted you inside like the gentlemen he was, shutting the front door behind you two. The lights inside the flat were dim, and by the table were two plates. Upon closer inspection, you were absolutely FLOORED!!!!

"No way - tikka fucking masala?!" you exclaimed. He chuckled and it was hot. 

You walked closer and saw two very familiar, VERY FAMILIAR, colorful orbs. You turned them to the side. All this time since you'd last seen one, you forgot what they were or looked like. 

"AND FUCKING BUZZBALLS?!?!?!" you said. "Tommy, how the fuck did you even get these?"

He pulled the chair out for you, and you scooted your big fat butt in. 

"I know people. It's my job."

You couldn't help but smirk.

"It's so hot when a man has connections," your dirty Jezebel mind thought. 

He cracked the BuzzBalls opened and poured them for each of you, like it was some high end expensive ass champagne. You watched him, relishing in the moment - you had your GRIP on this man. Chivalry was in fact, despite popular belief, not dead. But it was also the 1920s so you forgot about that bit. 

You looked down at your plate - you were going to fuck. this. up. He'd never seen this side of you - the side that would tear your meal like a fucking ape cracking open a coconut with a rock for water. You thought if you should warn him, but told yourself - he needs to know ME for ME. 

You gripped that naan, grabbed a fat ass chunk of that chicken - and the moment it hit your lips, you had started giggling like Mark Weins again but subtract the poker face. You had forgotten the long lost love of spice other than pepper and salt. You could've cried if it hadn't been for the fact your makeup looked too good. 

You two dined and wined (there's no wine) for the next hour, talking and talking and chewing and chewing. Seeing him eat was hard for your mind to process, you just never thought he was capable of it. Anyway as he was talking you felt bad because you were zoning out looking at him as if he was another dish of tikka masala. He had such a sigma vibe to him, maybe alpha? (I don't know I'm not familiar with gym bro brain rot TikTok lingo but you get the vibe.) He was just so manly and yet so gentle and calculating, it kinda scared you because like he could literally have everything set up to kill you right now and you wouldn't know cause you were too charmed. But then you realized, he wouldn't have done all this shit for someone he wanted dead. No girl, he just wanted YOU! Your toes tickled at the thought, and those butterflies? They were fluttering. 

For the first time, you had anxiety but hadn't felt the need to shit yet. You weren't sure if it was the alcohol calming your nerves, or the chill vintage ambience going on, or Tommy's comfortable/intimidating presence. In other words, this felt natural and you were fucking with it. 

There were several times you needed to burp, but forgetting you weren't with your girls, you had to swallow that shit deep. After all, girls don't burp. You tried to keep your femme fatale composure. 

You were the light he needed in his very dark emo life. It had been a very long time since he had a genuine laugh, despite the fact he might have had no idea what the fuck you were talking about or saying half the time, but seeing you all bubbly and happy made him feel content. He was finally being vulnerable, letting go a little and just, well, living life. Being free. #livelaughlove

"What will you do? When you've saved enough for Scotland?" he asked. 

The idea brought you down a bit. You forgot about that shit. "Oh, well, I don't know. I kinda like the barmaid stuff, so maybe I'll try to find something similar there?"

You were eating his leftovers. He didn't eat much but liked watching you eat like it was a mukbang. He loved a girl who eats. 

"Why don't you stay?" he asked, avoiding eye contact with you as he poured himself another BuzzBall. You could tell he wasn't a fan but drank it anyway for you because you liked it. 

You again couldn't help but smirk. You loved seeing a guy CRACK!!!

"Do you want me to?" you asked, biting your tongue like the white mom. You hadn't done that in a while either, this English life didn't permit it. 

He took a sip from his drink. "Perhaps you'd be interested in working for me."

"Aren't I already, low-key though?"

"Garrison's not mine," he said. "Do you know anything about bookkeeping?"

He lit a cigarette and offered you one. You took it, not wanting to offend. 

"Well, I gotta tell you," you said, "math is NOT my forte. But oh my god yes babe thanks!"

You ran over and jumped to hug him, he hugged tightly back, he then threw you on the hard table, pushing everything to the floor and you felt his member pressed against your leg. He began kissing you, his tongue licking your lips for entrance. You let him in. Your tongues fought for dominance but you let him win. He eventually started going down on you, taking your Skims dress clean off, and started kissing your labia.

"This...this is a bloody fucking labia," he says. 

You lifted your legs as he began to eat you out, his wet breath on your cooter. He held your foot up and raised himself, ready to press his member into your entrance. Your eyes were closed, ready to take the boy from Birmingham in. This is it. No missed flights, no drunk men to call you Jezebels, no lung cancer from cigarettes and factory smoke, no IRS or IRA, nothing - just you and Tommy.

You and Tommy laid on his bed, in each other's arms. Since his bed was high-key smaller than a twin, it was pretty cramped, but neither of you minded. You two were smoking (him a cigarette and you your Elf bar), reminding you of that one band Cigarettes after Sex and how Tommy would've liked them, but they wouldn't drop music for another couple years in this time zone. 

You two talked softly as the rain patterned on the window's glass, some of the street lights peering through the curtain. If there was some incense on, it'd be a vibe. You originally thought his opium pipe was an incense holder but you were very mistaken. 

" - so yeah, that's why people picked team Jolie. But in all honesty, I feel bad for Jennifer, you know? Like, he literally cheated on her. Over what? A fucky boof ass movie? It was ass," you hit your Elf bar, refusing to accept it was dead. "I guess it doesn't matter now, cause NONE of them are together anymore. So what do you think? Aniston or Jolie?"

He took a drag of cigarette as he stared at the ceiling. He made an unsure face. 

"I'm not familiar with them."

"True. Fine, let me think of something you'd know. Like something English drama," you thought. "Okay, team Blur or team Oasis? I hear there was a lot of blood shed during the battle of Britpop."

He again took another drag of his cigarette. Anyone would be looking at this and thinking he found you hella annoying, but he didn't. He just genuinely thought you had a great imagination. 

"Neither, I guess. I don't have time to listen to music."

He was right, which was why he loved when you sang at the pub and most of all, to him during your private Lana concerts. 

As time went on, you were in DEEP. Scotland? Yeah never heard of her. Not only were you working for Tommy doing whatever bookkeeping is, but he had even introduced you to his family, which you KNOW damn well is a sign that shit is serious. 

You loved the Shelby's, even though they were a bit off their shit sometimes. But it wasn't anything new, you'd been well familiar with crazy families before. You loved talking shit with Polly, going to the 'cinema' with Ada, fucking with Arthur until he got mad, supplying John with his toothpicks and making little Finn believe in the fake number 'derf'. You got along with them well, they saw you as a perfect fit for the family - something different, vibrant and bright! You loved them and they loved you! Polly would even tell you in confidence that you made Tommy a happier person, something he lost after the war. Getting Polly's stamp of approval was literally it, that's all you needed. 

And you and Tommy? Yeah y'all were a thing. An item. During work hours he'd give you little looks here and there, and so did you, as if it was some secret office romance. But it wasn't secret literally everyone knew you were his girl. And that's power. 

You learned the ropes pretty fast, again it wasn't your first rodeo in the mob. It was like Colombia all over again, but we don't talk about that. Tommy fucked with you having a secretive criminal past, he thought it was pretty hot. 

Besides bookkeeping, you still worked in the bar. All the patrons loved when you sang Lana, it just went on to prove that she's indeed a poet. They eventually memorized them and sang along, which annoyed you sometimes cause you just wanted to hear yourself and they sounded like ass when they were drunk. But you just go along with it! 

Some of the songs you in the pub (and Tommy's room) sang included:

Bartender (cause hello? You're LITERALLY at a bar)

Shades of Cool (for Tommy's big blue ass eyes (you wished they could hear that guitar solo cause the acapella didn't do it justice :( ))

Cola (singing this for the fist time made you realize you had to censor a couple things, they weren't a fan of that intro)

Stargirl's Interlude (Lana's part obvi, but it's again for Tommy cause he's your starboy <3 he loved when you hit those high notes)

Brooklyn Baby (you avoided it cause it reminded you of your ex)

Video Games (hello it's for Tommy)

Love Song (this makes them all cry)

Money Power Glory (again hello it's Tommy, but this wouldn't hit until he's a member in Parliament)

National Anthem (being in England for so long made you forget the United States anthem)

Fucked My Way Up To The Top (literally you rn)

Speaking OF a bunch of drunk men, the gang loved you. You thought you were like the comedic relief of the little theater thing they had going on here. You had to admit, you admired the method acting everyone had done so far. It only, to you, proved that it worked, since you were GENUINELY left in deep in a psychosis where you're just a 1920's flapper girl. 

There was some rules and etiquettes you needed to remember, however. One, was of course, the "BILLY FACKIN KIMBA", and another was you finding out Tommy did NOT fuck with brujeria or anything dark magic related. You thought it was kinda funny, he reminded you of those Reddit r/atheist accounts but at the same time, he was low-key scared of zodiacs. Not that he didn't like it, he was paranoid at them. You literally asked his zodiac sign and he responded very sternly and seriously, 

"Y/N, don't."

You then said. "That's a very Capricorn thing to say."

Besides that, everything was great and chill.

It wasn't long before this annoying ass Irish inspector dude pulled up to the pub. Once he saw you, he locked eyes with you and approached the bar. You didn't like his vibe in the slightest. In fact, no one in the pub liked his vibe either. They all fell silent when he entered. 

"Excuse, me, ma'am," he said. You turned, not really wanting to talk. 

"Yeah, what?"

"Do you know about a Thomas Shelby?" 

"Yeah, what about him?" you didn't fuck with anyone who referred to Tommy as Thomas. Like?

"Do you know where I can find him?"

You were really starting to not fuck with his vibe even more. Something was def fishy. 

"You should really go back to being with the dinosaurs," you said. He didn't like that. 

He leaned in. "Do you know who I am? Who do ya think you arrrrrre?" the R's went very crazy. 

And just in time, as if he was your guardian angel, Tommy opened the doors to the little room beside the bar. Babes was hearing everything and he was NOT gonna let this dude talk shit to his girl like that. 

"You need to speak to me? Inspector Campbell, is it?" he said. "I've read about you in the papers."

Tommy then took Campbell soup outside to speak. Before leaving, he (Tommy) gave you a wink and you winked back. You knew that was code for 'let's hit my flat later'. Little did you know, this would be the last time.....

P.S. - when you asked one of the men at the pub who he was and someone replied IRA, you originally interpreted that as the Irish IRS and shat yourself. You didn't know how to tell Tommy your time was ticking, they'd located you - but you were not going down without a fight. 

You were both in his bedroom as usual, he was lying in bed smoking, you were hitting the Elf bar, rain pattering, English people yelling outside yeah you get the vibe. Anyway, he asked you to sing - a request you took quite seriously. You knew this was his only time of relaxation and you had to make the best of it before you break the news you needed to escape again.

You rose, sitting up and looking down at his BBL face. 

"Lana or Nicki?"

"Lana."

"Can I do Nicki? You never ask for her."

He took a drag and nodded. "Go ahead."

This, now this would be where you fucked up. Let's just say, you wish you could wipe out this night from your memory. Alas, all things need to come to an end, even the good ones, unfortunately. You'd never thought it would be like this though tbh. 

You stood up on the bed, as usual, cleared your throat all that bullshit. You thought and thought, "what's a good Nicki song? What's fitting?"

And then it hit you - it was definitely a deep cut. 

He had a soft smile on his lips, watching you as you were thinking. Little did he know, you were going to harness a part of yourself you hadn't seen in a while. This was a mode you unlocked that was such a release after, and you knew you had to go all or nothing. 

You cleared your throat. 

"Okay, so this one's kinda not AS well known, but it has British themes I think work well," you prefaced. "Okay, here I go."

The moment you opened your mouth, you let the spirit of Nicki come in. And once she's in, there's no going back. And Tommy was not prepared for that. You then started Nicki's verse in Sean Kingston's "Born To Be Wild".  

"♪ If you will die, then why would you try and if you reply, a suit and a tie is what I will buy then you will be mine because you and I were born to be wild, I am Martha you King Arthur who knew you would land me, I’ve been known to eat these rappers, cook em like chef Ramsey - ♪"

You were too deep to notice Tommy's rapid increasing worry and fear as you spat out those lyrics. It was too overstimulating for him to handle. You ate, but that was just want concerned him - he didn't know you were rapping. In fact, no one at this current time did. 

" ♪ - Mission accomplished, your my accomplice cover of vogue yeah ima go topless ima go bonkers ima go crazy ima get reckless then have a baby then hang the baby off the balcony teach him to moon walk tell em he's Japanese - ♪ "

No, he thought you were putting a curse on him. No, he was CONVINCED. 

"Stop! STOP!" Tommy rose from his bed, pushing the sheets off of him. 

You were shaken out of your trance, confused. You became worried, what happened? Did you miss something? Were y'all in danger?

"Wait, Tommy -"

"Enough! Stop!" you had never seen panic in that man's eyes. Never. And you didn't like it. He was looking straight at you, talking to YOU. 

"Stop what -"

"You're a bloody fucking witch!" he yelled, rubbing his hand through his hair while the other TIGHT on his hip. This was his evaluating stance. "That's what this is - that's what it's been."

"Uh, Tommy," you said, more annoyed that he interrupted your moment, "I'm no witch. I'm just, well, Y/N."

He took a deep breath, now facing away from you. He couldn't believe it. All this time, all that mumbo jumbo that came out of your mouth, all this time - they were just that. Curses. No wonder he didn't understand them, you were literally speaking in tongues this whole time. 

You walked towards him, slowly. This man needed that opium right now. 

"Tommy -"

"Leave. LEAVE!" he yelled, grabbing your messy bun, and doing what you didn't think would happen again for a very long time - he beybladed you. 

Spin. Spin. Spin.

"LET IT BLOODY RIP!"

And there it was. 

And there you went. 

He twisted you in the air round and round, ready for a different kind of liftoff. He flung you out the window, you crashed through and onto the cobblestone streets of Birmingham. 

That was it. All these months, all this rehearsing - it all came to an end. On a random Tuesday evening? The Tommy you once thought you knew was no more - after all this time, he never trusted you? Didn't he know who you were? Like dude he watched you be vulnerable at fuck up a tikka masala. TWO of them at that. 

Anyway, you realized maybe the entirety of UK just wasn't your vibe, anyway. With this 'IRA' now in town, your ass needed to be grass. Before leaving, you broke into his horse racing betting place whatever it's called and committed a little fun heist, taking all the money. What? A girl needed to sustain herself in this economy. Dog eat dog world shit. And plus, all your stuff was back at his apartment and you were DEF not gonna go back. Who knows? Was HE working for the Men In Black? Wining and dining you to gain his trust and he turned you in? Maybe he did you a favor in the end. 

And maybe you could upgrade to the latest iPhone when you got to London with all this horse money? With a shilling and a pound, the possibilities seemed endless. 

You walked down the streets, sad, but again more confused and a little relieved, onto your next destination, wherever that maybe. Anywhere Y/N went, it was all just a big adventure of a girl having fun being, well, just a girl having fun in this world. And THAT'S all that matters. 

Hope you enjoyed!

xoxo, 

~Sam St. Clair

[rhonnie23]

Self Love K.SM

Kind proofread

"God damn it," you mutter between clenched teeth as your head hits your pillow. It's been almost three months since your crush & his best friend became your roommates. & it's been two months since you bought your rose. Yes that rose.

As you lay in bed sweaty & coming down from my high, you heard your roommates return home.

"Y/n we're home!" Jeongin yell out as he got close to your bedroom door. You all have our own bathrooms in your rooms, which you thank god for. "I'll be out in a minute I'm about to take a shower," you yell back as you make your way to the bathroom.

When you first met your crush you all were juniors in high school. Seungmin was quite popular because he was our class topper, even though he has the cutest face ever his mouth could be very lethal, he did not take bull shit from anyone, & he hated bullies which is how you both met.

In high school, you wouldn't say you were ugly, you was just a lot more on the curvy side. Yes 17 years old 5'1 & a half weighting 232 pounds.

So yes that caused you to be bullied a lot. Your whole life no one ever tried to help you let alone talk to you. So the day Seungmin helped you was the day you fell in love. That was 2 years ago now & let's just say your not that shy, overweighted 17-year-old girl anymore.

After graduating you went to the States to visit your parents & over the summer you lost a lot of weight. 57 pounds to be exact. Your still curvy but just in all the right places as your best friend Kiara always tells you.

Most of your classmates all got accepted into the same college, so the looks you got from so many people were priceless even though you had talked to Seungmin almost every day over the summer break you never told him about your major weight loss. So even he was surprised when he saw you. With you both being roommates he & Jeongin were the first to see you.

Everyone still thinks your this shy good girl who hardly ever talks but in reality, your not. Seungmin & your best friend always makes it their job to let people know you're the complete opposite. You are loud, goofy & became very confident in yourself.

It's Saturday so that means movie night. You picked last weekend so it's Jeongin's turn which is most likely a scary K-drama or just something scary in general. The fox-looking boy is dating your best friend, so you take advantage of getting close & cling to Seungmin.

As you leave your room & make your way to the living room you hear more than just your roommates. When you reach the end of the hall you see that you was right. As you walk in you see not only your bestie there but also the rest of you roommates' friends. So now it is 8 boys in your living room.

"Hey Y/n," the squirrel-like boy says as he is the first one to notice your presence. Followed by a few waves & heys from everyone else.

"What's up squirrel boy," you reply & waving at everyone else as you make your way to the kitchen.

"Damn you two are lucky to have Y/n as your roommate," Chan says as half of them watch her walk away. "I got with a loud dwaekki & a singing, slow ass squirrel," he says while pointing at Changbin & then to Jisung causing both of them to yell at him causing everyone to laugh at the trio.

You wouldn't say your a goth girl but your favorite colors are red & black & the majority of your clothes consist of those colors. Since your at home you don't bother getting dressed up. You have on a black noodle-strapped tank top that has a built-in bra that shows off my belly & nipple piercings, paired with some off-black shorts.

You were about to go & sit between Seungmin & Changbin when someone knocked at the door. Before you got the chance to do or say anything Seungmin stood up & rushed to the door causing his hair to flop like cute puppy ears. After a minute a so he returns with a small girl clinging to his arm smiling so hard it looks like her face might get stuck that way.

"Guys I forgot to tell you that my best friend was coming over. She's here visiting from Seoul," Seungmin said smiling as they now stood in front of the TV.

You was surprised & a little pissed off to hear him say her name before he started pointing around the room & saying everyone's name. Once he got to you, you ignored them as you stood up & asked if anybody wanted anything from the kitchen & walked right past them almost bumping them causing them to take a step back.

When you returned Seungmin & the girl were sitting where you both usually sit. Before you got to say something Changbin said, "Y/n can you sit with Hyunjin? Kali is scared of scary movies," "But- fine whatever," you said but instead of sitting with Hyunjin you go to sit with Chan.

You wasnt even 20 minutes into the movie & you couldn't help but to keep glaring at Seungmin & his 'best friend'. At some point, you hear Jeongin whisper to Kiara how cute they would be together & reply with a sour face saying 'Ew'.

After another torturing 20 minutes you decide you can't take the sight of them or hear Jeongin talk about them no more.

"Hey guys I'm going to go lay down I'm not feeling too well," you said as you got up & walk toward your room not giving anyone a chance to say anything.

Every time someone came to your room & knocked on the door you just ignored the & pretended to be asleep. Everyone but Kiara believed you truly was but with you best friend being the only one knowing you liked Seungmin which you made very obvious by the way, knew you wasn't okay.

She talked to you but you didn't say much before she got up & left as everyone was now leaving.

A/n should I make a part 2? Please reblog & let me know if you like it! It would mean so much to me🥰❤️

Stray Kids M.List

Main M.List

©rhonnie23ownallcopyrights

[scoonsaliciousupdates]

Unwanted: Chapter 26, Unsurprising - Pt. 2

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, discussions of death, human trafficking, guilt and forgiveness.

Word Count: 666 (oops!) 😈

Previously On...: Bucky bought you a new mattress so you wouldn't have to deal with the aftermath of your old one <3

A/N: More conversation

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

Taglist: (Sadly, tag list is closed; Tumblr will not let me add anyone new. If you want to be notified when I update, please Follow me for Notifications!) @jmeelee @cazellen @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @blackhawkfanatic @buckybarnessimpp @hayjat @capswife @itsteambarnes @marygoddessofmischief @sebastians-love @learisa @lethallyprotected @rabbitrabbit12321 @buckybarnesandmarvel @fanfictiongirl77 @calwitch @fantasyfootballchampion @selella @jackiehollanderr @wintercrows @sashaisready @missvelvetsstuff @angelbabyyy99 @keylimebeag @maybefoxysouls @vicmc624 @j23r23 @wintercrows @crist1216 @cjand10 @pattiemac1@les-sel @dottirose @winterslove1917 @harperkenobi @ivet4 @casey1-2007 @mrsevans90 @steeph-aniie @bean-bean2000 @beanbagbitch @peachiestevie @wintrsoldrluvr @shadowzena43

Tumblr will not let me directly tag the following: @marcswife21 @erelierraceala @jupiter-107 @doublejeon @hiqhkey @unaxv @brookeleclerc

Later, after he’d helped you remake the bed with the new comforter and sheet set he’d bought for you (or rather, one of three different sets he’d bought, wanting you to have a choice), you’d sat him down in the livingroom and painstakingly went over the details you and Sam had managed to put together of your case so far.

“And that brings us to Chloe,” you said, sadly pinning up a copy of the girl’s autopsy photo you’d hacked from the coroner’s files onto your now crowded caseboard. “She’s their latest victim. Whomever they sold her to, he was vicious and he didn’t waste any time. It was only three days after they took her that her body showed up.”

Bucky nodded in understanding. “That’s the girl you mentioned last night,” he said. “The one you said you lost. Pocket, you gotta know that wasn’t your fault, right?”

You took in a shaky breath. “How can it be anything other than my fault, Bucky? I was right in the fucking room when they took her, but I was too strung out to notice what was happening right in front of my face!”

Bucky stood up and walked toward you. For a second, you thought he was going to hold you again, but at the last moment, he seemed to reconsider, instead opting to put a comforting hand on your shoulder. “You said you did that extra line so that other girl wouldn’t have to,” he said, his voice soft and calm, lacking any ounce of blame. “Seems to me like you found yourself stuck between a rock and a hard place, with no real way out. You couldn’t have known they were planning on taking a new girl that night.”

“But I should’ve suspected it, planned for it,” you said, not wanting to be let off the hook for your failure. “I let myself get sloppy, get stupid, and a girl fucking died because of it!”

This time, Bucky did hold you again, and you let him. “We all make mistakes, love,” he said softly. “Sometimes they're small, like leaving the milk out overnight, but sometimes they're huge, and there’s no undoing them. No matter how badly we want to.” A shift in his tone told you he wasn’t just speaking of your mistakes now, but his own, as well. “We can spend the rest of our lives beating ourselves up over them, hating ourselves, but it’s never gonna change what we did. The only thing we can do is learn from our mistakes, so we make sure we never make them again.” He pulled back and brushed a strand of hair out of your face. “And make amends to the people we’ve hurt along the way.”

You sniffled, hearing what he was saying, but not knowing how it could work for you. “But how do I make amends to a dead girl, Bucky?”

“By making sure she’s the last one they ever hurt,” he said resolutely, as if he had all the faith in the world in your ability to stop this trafficking scheme. “By not giving them an opportunity to hurt anyone else like they hurt her.”

You used the sleeve of Sam’s sweatshirt to wipe away some of the snot that was unattractively running down your nose. You’d have to make sure you washed it before you got it back to him.

“Okay,” you said, feeling a new sense of resolve blanket over you. You couldn’t absolve yourself from what you’d done, but you could make amends, and that gave you hope that one day, you might be able to forgive yourself. And then, if you could eventually learn to forgive yourself for this, did that mean that one day, you could forgive Bucky, too?

You shook the thought from your head, not wanting to let your emotions for him cloud your need to see this mission through to the end. “Well then,” you told him instead, “we better get to work.”

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

[cowboydisaster]

The Fire In Your Eyes

part II: blackwater i

originally posted on 22 february 2023

pairing: Arthur Morgan x fem!reader

word count: 4k

summary: you start to settle in with the gang, making some friends and some enemies. As you acclimate to your new life, parts of you miss the freedom of solitude, while a new feeling drives you towards companionship.

a/n: chapter two is here! For those of you that missed the post, I will be updating this series with a new chapter every wednesday. I'm super proud of this one. Thanks to @margowritesthings for being my beta reader, biggest supporter, and my ride or die

SERIES MASTERPOST

"The hell did you buy in there anyway? A book?" You ask, trotting closer to Arthur and Boadicea to peek over his reins. There's a little leather bound book in his hands that he angrily stuffs into his satchel. You’ve both just left the general store in Blackwater after picking up some supplies for the good of the camp. You have no money, but Arthur had brought camp funds to purchase supplies for everyone. While in the store, he’d found a small leather bound book, and you’ve been thinking about it since you both left the store.

"Ain't none of your business lady, now let's get back." He huffs, spurring Boadicea into a canter past the old withering Blackwater church. The sound of hooves on dirt is loud as you push the horse, gripping tightly onto the saddle horn for extra stability.

"Well if it's none of my business, you shouldn't have bought it in front of me. That's on you." You counter, curious if Arthur even knows how to read, let alone enjoys it. You’ve only been with the gang for three and a half days, but in that time you’ve been able to observe the other gang members. Mostly, you’ve stuck to yourself, eating and working alone unless Ms. Grimshaw makes you work with the girls. But in that time, all you’ve seen Arthur do is physical labor, like chopping wood, going out on jobs, or planning with Dutch and Hosea. You had wrongfully assumed he’s the type of man who only entertains himself with liquor, women and fighting. Every day you seem to be proving yourself more and more wrong. 

"I bought it in front of you because I have to take you with me. You're like a goddamn pet, take my eyes off ya for a second and you're starting something. Dutch didn’t want you causin’ trouble so he told me to keep an eye on ya." 

Fury bubbles in your chest at the new information. This is about that big ugly bastard, what's his name. The past few days you've spent at their camp all he's done is sleep, drink and annoy everyone. He hasn't changed his sweat stained blue flannel since you've been there, and his big brown draft horse has never left the hitching post. He had made some rather crass comments about Arthur bringing you back and you punched him right in the face for it. Nearly knocked him on his ass. It got an amused chuckle out of Arthur, but the other gang members weren't too pleased about you strutting into their camp and starting fights. He started it, you just finished it. But of course you, the newcomer, are to blame and now you need a babysitter. 

"Gonna keep an eye on me, that's it? What- you're gonna sleep next to my bedroll too? Make sure I don't go out and start beating up the folk, even the ones that need it?" You growl, irritated with Dutch for giving you a chaperone, and at Arthur for being the chaperone. 

"If that's what it takes to keep that damn temper under control then, sure" Arthur laughs.

"I guess I'd rather go buyin' romance novels with you then sittin' back there with some of those fools." You bite, cantering towards the opening of the camp. 

"I- dammit woman, it ain't a book. It's a journal. Lost my old one some months ago in a fire.  I saw this one and I just picked it up..." He says. 

You're utterly shocked. He journals? A new little layer of this big tough outlaw falls away and you can peek into the man inside. He goes around saving women in distress and writes about his feelings? Well shit. 

"Never took you for a writer, Mr. Morgan, but it suits you well. Maybe one day you'll have to let me peek in there, see what goes on in that head a you-" 

You stop in your tracks at the sound coming from camp. It's a rat-like voice with a greasy, nasty vocabulary. He's yelling, harassing someone for something. It's an unfamiliar voice and you spur the buckskin faster after Arthur to find the source. Arthur doesn’t look entirely alarmed, more annoyed, as if he knows the voice. When he sees the worry on your face, he’s quick to respond.

"That's Micah… you steer clear of him, alright?" He asks, to which you don't answer.

As your horses slow, stepping into the camp, you hop down from the saddle, tossing your reins over the hitching post and jog into the open area filled with tents. 

"The hells goin' on now? You've been back five goddamn minutes and your stirrin' up a ruckus." Arthur calls out from beside you. 

A medium height, blonde man with a nasty smile and pale blue eyes turns around, running his fingers over his thick mustache. His red shirt is stained with what you assume to be the beer that he reeks of. It has filled his stomach, giving him a drinker’s gut and painting his nose with red blotches. Just the sight of him has you backing up a few steps.

"Awe, didntcha' miss me, Morgan?" He asks sarcastically, holding his arms out in mock disbelief. 

Arthur sports a deep scowl as he glares at Micah, stepping towards him. It's then that Micah notices you standing beside Arthur. You're much shorter than him, but you hold your chin up high, shoulders pushed back. Micah’s lips curl up in an eerie smile as he runs his eyes over your body.

"Well who might you be, madam?" Micah sneers. Pure anger and aggression pump through your veins as he slowly rakes his eyes over your figure. Then his eyes move around to the people in camp, lingering on Arthur's. 

"She claimed? You Morgan's whore then? Say, you think he'll share you with me?" Micah laughs maniacally, bending back and resting his hands on his gun belt. His blonde hair is filthy, his teeth even more so, everything about this man repels you. He's a snake, a shifty rat and you can see it from a mile away. 

"I ain't no one's whore." You squint, wishing to just take this bastard out and be done with it. 

"Careful, Micah. She'll tear you a new one." Arthur warns, seemingly hoping that you will. God, he would love to watch you beat the shit out of Micah. He'd pay to.  

Micah seems to be amused by this, laughing loudly and glancing around the camp to see if anyone heard Arthur. He doesn't believe for a fraction of a second that you could best him.

"I ain't afraid of an itty bitty lady," Micah steps forward, glancing down over you before shifting his eyes and addressing Arthur,

"She'd look real pretty on her knees for me, wouldn't she Ar-"

You knee him as hard as you can, right in the groin, causing him to bend at the waist and groan in pain. 

"Y-You bitch!" He yells, right before you slip a pair of metal knuckles that were in your pocket over your fingers and punch him square in the cheekbone. The knuckles cut up his face, blood trickling down his cheek before he falls over, completely knocked out cold. You're a small woman, but with some little adjustments, you're stronger than the men. You slip the knuckles off, sliding them back into your pocket and tapping them for good measure.

"Tried to warn the bastard…" Arthur sighs, grabbing Micah by the feet and dragging him towards the outskirts of camp where he'll probably wake up later. You realize that you'd gained a bit of a crowd, blushing as you look around and see several pleased faces. You remember most of their names. The red haired Irishman, Sean steps over to you, proudly slapping you on the back with a huge grin. 

"Ha! Ya knocked him right on his ass ‘tere! So much for an itty bitty lady, eh?"

A blonde haired woman, a little taller than you comes over with a big smile. She’s under the arm of a young gang member, you think Lennys his name. 

“Well I’ll be damned! Hell yeah, It's good to see another badass woman around here, I was gettin’ tired of puttin’ all the boys in their place.” She laughs, pulling Lenny behind her and moving forward to hand you something. It's a five dollar bill, and you reach out to take it, confused. 

“We had a bet that someone was gonna knock him out soon as he got back. Entertaining us with a show like that? You deserve it. I’d do anything to see that bastard get put down by a lady.”

You smile up at her, nodding to the stranger as you place the bill in your pocket. 

“I'm Jenny by the way. Say, you're new as a shiny penny, figures these boys can't control themselves. Buncha assholes, especially Micah. He gets his fill of torture from all of us though, don't you worry miss." Jenny smiles at you, her blonde hair frames her freckled face beautifully. 

"You wanna come officially meet the girls? We can get you set up, get you a tent and some new clothes. Figure you wanna get away from Mr. Morgan over there for the day, he's a sour bastard." Jenny yells the last part in Arthur’s direction so that he can hear. 

“You’ll hear no argument from me on that account, ma'am.” Arthur quips, dropping Micah into the woods,

You eye Lenny and Jenny, a little unsure. It's hard for you to trust people, especially other outlaws but they seem kind enough. You turn your neck around to see Arthur, the only one you've really interacted with besides the two men you knocked out, and then you look back to Lenny and Jenny. They're both young and bright eyed, hopeful. It's a change you're grateful for, albeit not used to. What could be the harm?

"Alright then, the girls…" You whisper nervously. You've seen a few other women walking through the camp in the past four days, and they've eyed you with curiosity but none made a move to interact with you. You'll never show it but you're a bit nervous. You keep to yourself for the most part. You've had to because you have no one else. But that's changing. 

You follow the two past a few tents, and to a wagon with a few boxes sitting around to be used as chairs. Wolf pelts and blankets are stacked into a makeshift bed on the ground under a hanging canvas. As you take in the little details of the camp, you don't miss the way Jenny and Lenny's hands intertwine, and you smile for it. It's apparent that someone has been through a lot of effort to make the camp homey. Fluffy pelts line the seats and chairs, beautifully decorated animal skulls top some of the tents and each person’s designated area is filled with their personal preferences and belongings. Pictures and books line the little tables and crates around the place and boxes of beer and whiskey as well. It really is a home. 

There's a wagon with canvas material making a little lean to, and under it sit three girls. The first one to notice you has short blonde hair and a contagious smile. There's wonder in her eyes, and optimism. 

"Well hi! We was wonderin' when we'd get to meet you, we could barely hold back from goin' over there but we didn't wanna push ya! Say, you’ve been here just four days and you’ve already knocked down the two biggest bastards here. First Bill and now Micah? I like you already!" The blonde haired girl says before adding, "Oh, I'm Karen by the way. And this is Marybeth and Tilly.” She adds, pointing towards the other girls who smile and wave coyly. The girl furthest from you with dark colored skin and braided hair that collects into a low bun, Tilly, speaks up.

“Don’t be shy, we don’t bite. Well Karen does, but only when Ms. Grimshaw comes around. Doesn’t seem like you’ll be dealing much with her though. You gonna run with the men like Jenny here?” Tilly asks, nodding towards Jenny. You notice the contrast in their attire. Tilly, Marybeth and Karen are wearing dresses, apparently you and Jenny are the only two women who work out of camp. You haven't thought much about what your role will be in the camp though.

“Uh, yeah I guess I will be. I haven’t thought about it much though, just gettin’ here and all…And I’m only stayin’ till I'm back on my feet, so I’ll do whatever needs done till I get enough money to head somewhere else.” You mumble, looking down to your raggedy clothes. The girls grow a little quiet, sensing your dilemma before Jenny speaks up. 

“Well for now, you’re stuck with us! C’mon, we’ll get you some new clothes and have Ms. Grimshaw set you up a tent. I assume you’ll want a tent by Arthur, y’know with him bringing you in and all.”

— —

By nightfall you have three new pairs of jeans, two black and one blue, four new shirts, dark green, white, black and red, and a brand new pair of boots. They’ve accommodated you well, and you try not to think about your growing debt to the gang. 

Your tent is nicer than anything you’ve had for a long while. It's a white canvas ‘A frame’ tent with a nice sized cot, a wardrobe and a nightstand. The girls have given you some blankets and items to decorate around the place and it looks good, it’s rather cozy. Currently you sit cross legged on the cot, writing in your journal. The soft glow of candlelight alongside the campfires outside provide enough light for you to write without straining your eyes. It's a beautiful night, and owls hoot as warm wind blows across the Great Plains, it's a perfect moment. 

It’s the fourth day I've been here, but today was different. I met Jenny, and she introduced me to a few others. She’s a lot like me. Jenny doesn’t follow the rules, she makes her own way. I admire her for that. And Arthur? Well, I haven't  seen much of him. He’s been working on some big job with Dutch, and they’re keeping it real quiet. Oh, and he journals too, he picked one up in town today. Never thought a man such as himself would take to journaling. There’s a heart in there somewhere, deep down as it may be. I guess he’s like me in that way…

You startle at the sound of a knock against the beam of your tent. You jump a little, reaching down to your holster before you realize it’s only Arthur. 

“Shit, sorry. You scared the hell outta me. Ain’t used to livin’ with other people.” You laugh, folding your journal shut and tucking your pen into the book’s spine. Arthur is leaning against the tent beam with two bowls in hand, it looks like he’s washed up, probably in the lake or the river, but he's wearing a clean black stand collar shirt and a new pair of jeans. His wet hair drips a little, and the smell of soap travels to your nose.

“You’ll get used to it. Here, I brought ya some dysentery.” Arthur jokes, holding out a bowl of Pearson’s stew to you. You take it, grateful for it even though it tastes awful. 

“Thanks. Here, come sit, keep me company.” You scooch to the other side of your cot, once again sitting cross legged. 

“Well I ain’t no good company miss, I can promise you that, but sure.” 

Arthur sits down on the cot, and it dips under his weight. He watches you out of the corner of his eye for a moment, then glances at your book while you both eat. 

“So what were you writin’ in that book a’ yours?” Arthur asks, nodding towards your leather journal.  

You crack a smile, prodding at the mushy soup with your spoon. 

“You really wanna know? I'll show you mine, but you gotta show me what's in yours.” You offer with a raised eyebrow. Arthur’s cheeks glow a little red and he scratches at the back of his neck.

“Well I just got it today, and I ain’t put much in it yet.” Arthur says a little awkwardly. You take note of his embarrassment, and make a mental note to peek the next time he has it out.

“So how's it been so far? The camp I mean. Everyone treatin’ you well? I'm sure you’ll give ‘em hell if they don’t.” Arthur asks, looking to you, before bringing the metal bowl up to his lips and drinking down the broth left over in the bowl. You can’t help the smile that brightens up your features while you nod. 

“It’s been good. Jenny’s real nice, I like her a lot. All the girls are kind too. I ain’t talked to much of anyone else, well besides Micah, is he alright by the way?” You ask, hoping you didn’t kill him. You don’t really care if the bastard is dead or not, but killing him on your fourth day in the gang would not help your chances of getting along with Dutch. 

“I think he left for a while, didn’t wanna come back and be the camp idiot for gettin’ beat up by a little lady-” He starts before you interject. 

“I ain’t a little lady.” You bite. Arthur chuckles, putting his hands up in mock surrender. He disagrees, you are a little lady, but he also wants to keep his head. 

“Whatever you say, miss. I'm partial to keepin’ your fists far away from this old mug,'' Arthur's smile falters for a moment, and he looks over to you with sincerity, “but I'm glad to hear you’re settlin’ in alright.”

You nod, unsure of how to respond as you extend your arm to place the empty stew bowl on your nightstand. Arthur takes it out of your hand instead, standing up and stacking your dishes on top of his own. 

“Well I’ll leave you to it, I don’t wanna take up anymore of your time,” He tips his head to you, “Goodnight miss.”

“G’night Arthur.” You watch his back as he leaves your tent and returns your dishes back to Pearson’s table. 

You think of him as you dress down and tuck yourself into bed. It’s been a long time since you’ve enjoyed someone’s company. He intrigues you. There's so many layers to Arthur Morgan, and you find yourself wanting to peel them back and discover the man at heart. You toss and turn in your bed, angrily fluffing your pillow and tearing your blankets off of your bare legs just to pull them back on again. Despite the new bed, and the tent, you find yourself  longing for the freedom of the grass, you miss the stars. 

With a sigh, you reach down onto the grass below your bed and grab your boots. You swing your legs over the edge and pull them on, not bothering to dress yourself half decent. The shirt you’re wearing is a man’s, it's huge on you, but Jenny figured it would make a good night shirt. The white shirt swallows your figure as you step out of your tent and into the night. Everyone has gone to bed already as you tiptoe to the outskirts of camp. There's a dark forest at the edge, and maybe it's your exhaustion, but you find it enticing. You walk through the grass, wishing that you could feel it on your feet. It’s only been four days, but dammit, you miss the freedom. Solitude can be a beautiful thing, you’ve found out. And even though you’re glad to have been saved by the gang, parts of you ache to return to the wilderness. 

You slip your cowboy boots off, abandoning them on the ground between you and Arthur’s tent. They slump to the ground, spurs clicking as they hit the floor, and you step into the trees.

You pick wildflowers, humming and singing to yourself as you pluck their stems from the earth and add them to your collection. The breeze is warm and it flutters through your hair. A few times you feel eyes on you, but you dismiss them as animals lurking in the night. Some find the woods as eerie and unknown, but they’ve always been your home. You make a little bouquet of wildflowers, they're all different colors and sizes, and you hold them up to your nose and inhale that deep, specific scent. Lastly, you lay back on the grass, holding the flowers in your hands and look up to the stars. 

“A coach and six white horses,”

You twirl a poppy between your fingers, bringing it up to your nose before you continue singing,

“Blacks and bays, dapples, and grays,”

 You bring your knees up, crossing your legs as your hair splays out in the grass.

“All the pretty little horses…”

You’ve always been on your own, and this will be hard. Acclimating to a new place, with new people, and handing your control over to a new leader, all of it has you nervous, uneasy. You’re not sure how long you’ll stay. A part of you, the part that led you into the forest, begs for your freedom back. And yet a new feeling piques your interest as well, and it scares you. You look up at the constellations, tracing the big dipper with your eyes and grounding yourself with the familiarity. This new pull… it’s dangerous. You’ve distanced yourself from others for a reason, and yet here you are, breaking all of your rules.

—

Arthur’s eyebrows draw together as he leans up on his elbows in his cot. He’s been unable to sleep tonight, too distracted with the Blackwater job, and with you to get some shut eye. He’s stirred up by some quiet click noises, followed by some shallow singing. The song reaches his ears and immediately he recognizes it. It's “All the Pretty Little Horses,” a lullaby his momma used to sing to him when he was a kid. There’s some emotion there that he pushes down, sitting up to peek out of the open tent. 

And there you are. 

Arthur's smile is bittersweet as he watches you, laying in the grass in nothing but a goddamn shirt. Because of course you're the type to pick flowers, barefoot in the dead of night. Of course you’re the type to sing to the stars. He chuckles to himself, and doesn’t even think about it as he grabs his empty journal that he’d bought in the morning. He rests the leather book against his knee, leaning over to grab his pencil off his nightstand. As he does so, his eyes collide with the framed picture of Mary. Arthur sighs, gently grabbing the corner of the frame and tipping it so the picture lays face down. 

“Long time ago now…” Arthur whispers, lingering over the photo for a moment before grabbing his pencil. 

He doesn’t think, he just draws, starting with your legs that are crossed over each other, your torso and the flowers in your hand, and then your face and hair as you look up to the stars. He hums along lowly with your singing as he finishes up his sketch. There’s an incredible amount of detail to the picture, and he tries not to think about why that is as he adds a note to his sketch. 

She’s a lot like the stars in a way, I’ve realized. A force, fiery and burning as a flame, not to be reckoned with. She’s got no ties, she’s on her own. And yet she’s kind, singing and picking flowers in the middle of the damn night. She's something else, that woman. 

[bomberqueen17]

car organizer

So I wanted to make myself the kind of organizer that hangs over the back of your car seat to hold your stuff, to keep the things that ought to stay in my car in, because with my old car, I hauled so much cargo and loaded and unloaded the thing so often and wound up with so much random junk in there that I lost my tire inflator, foldable shovel, and most of the rest of it. I thought, if I just attach those to the back of one of the front seats then it doesn't matter what I do with the car, if I'm hauling baby chicks or small humans, passengers or cargo or what, I don't have to worry.

I shopped around but I didn't see anything like what I wanted, so I went down in the basement and poked around.

Thus follows not exactly a tutorial, but a description of my thought process. This took forever but if I had to do it again I could do it faster, I think.

I had a weird but perfectly-sized rectangle of heavy-duty polyester canvas (twice as long as I needed, but exactly as wide, so I could use it double thickness), some suit interfacing, and then several yards of an all-plastic but beautiful brocade I bought from Jo-Ann's back when I didn't know how to shop for fabric.

So I bought myself a new tire inflator and folding shovel, and then measured the jump-start powerbank I already own, and made pockets exactly sized for those three things. I also guesstimated a pocket for my motley collection of ratchet straps. And then I laid those out on the bit of canvas, and figured I had room for a wide short pocket across the top-- gathered the bottom, and put a channel at the top and pulled elastic through, then sewed two seams down it to hold it into three separate pockets.

I did french seams on the first square pocket then realized that made it too small so I had to piece a little extension around the back of it. Then I realized that all-plastic brocade ravels horribly... unless you run a lighter along all the cut edges. Bickety-bam instant selvege. So I melted the edges of all the rest of my fabric, and no more French seams means no more excessive seam allowances.

(I didn't exactly follow this method but I did find a good tutorial here for how to make a cargo pocket. It might have worked better than what i did, LOL. I only made one pocket pleated, and one gathered, the others I tried mostly to make to size.)

[image description: a black panel of canvas lies on a table, with three pockets made of brown/black/gold polyester brocade lying atop it, chalked around like crime scene bodies.]

Laid them out, traced with chalk, futzed with the placement. Realized I didn't have to center that top one, and if I off-set it, I could fit the ratchet strap pocket next to it.

Attached the pockets to the canvas, then spray-adhesived the interfacing to the back, then folded the canvas in half, sewed it right sides together leaving one short side open, turned it right-side out, gingerly ironed it (everything is plastic). I had some of those huge thick plastic strips they seal around big boxes sometimes in the garbage in the basement so I pulled those out, carefully ironed them flat under a press cloth, and then cut lengths of them-- it was heavy-duty stuff, I think a dehumidifier had come in the package, solid plastic an inch wide-- and used those as horizontal boning at the bottom, middle, and top, securing in place with a line of stitching above and below wherever there weren't pockets. The top, I closed up by just folding the front over the back; it was the selvedge edge, so I left that raw, and zig-zagged it shut with the piece of "boning" inside, then pushed the boning up against the seam with my fingers and sewed the other side of the channel with a straight stitch.

I could not for the life of me figure out how to measure the straps. so i went out and sat in my car with a lighter, scissors, needle, thread, a pair of old shoelaces, a length of 2" wide elastic torn out of an unsuccessful earlier make (i have a roll of the stuff... at the farm, not here), and a length of heavy-duty twill tape I don't know where I got.

I held the organizer up to the seat, safety-pinned the twill tape to the top, threaded it around the headrest, safety-pinned it to the other side. Decided it needed more support, as the upper corners wanted to flop. Used a drawstring threader to pull the shoelace through the flap at the bottom of the seat, where all the cabling for the heated seat is stored-- there's upholstery covering it, open at both sides, so I threaded the shoelace through that, just to pull the whole shebang in taut against the seat instead of letting it swing freely into the knees of whoever might sit back there. Sewed it down on one side, safety-pinned it to the other. Cut the shoelace off, then sewed the remnant to one upper extreme corner, wrapped it past the headset, safety-pinned it to the other side. Finally took the 2" wide elastic, sewed it firmly down on one side, passed it around the seat, measured it, then passed it behind the seat to sew it down un-stretched to the other side, then put it on properly. So the non-stretch fasteners are only sewed on one side, and can be unpinned on the other if I need to take the thing off.

Then I loaded it up with stuff.

[Image description: the rear of a car driver's seat, taken from the rear seat behind it, with an organizer hanging from the headrest, brocade pockets stuffed full of objects. There's a green object hanging from a keychain at the top left-- it is a folding knife patterned to look like a leaf.]

Now the things that ought to just always be in my car can (mostly) just always be there. I should check that the tire inflator works, and I should periodically charge up the jump pack, but I already checked if the foldable shovel works (it does), and I carefully bundled up the ratchet straps into bags I made out of the cuffs of old crew socks, which sewn shut where I cut the threadbare foot off make perfectly-sized padded stretchy storage bags for light duty ratchet straps.

Top left to bottom right, it's got:

Ratty old work gloves, a clipped-on keychain with a decorative rosary and a functional folding knife, a sock-cuff bag containing a multitool screw driver, a little baggie of tampons, and some Kleenex The tire inflator kit, the jump pack kit three ratchet straps, a folding shovel multitool thingy, and a bag of toiletries with spare socks, chapstick, hand cream, a travel toothbrush and dry toothpaste kit, and a couple other things-- most of it is shit that was handed out the one time I flew business class on Icelandair.

Then, to the right, around my center console, I took a vintage like circa 2004 Old Navy nylon drawstring backpack, threaded those heavy-duty twist tie things they use to close disposable coffee bags through the drawstring bit of the mouth to keep it open, sewed some of the twill tape to the top, and added a magnetic catch to hold a plastic bag in place. The magnetic catch didn't do enough so I have some half-broken old hair clips holding the plastic bag in better position: that's now my car's trash bag, and the backpack's two tiny zippered pockets hold spare plastic bags.

Now the last thing I want to do is to get some hooks to hang from the passenger headrest, and get loops attached to my snow brush and squeegee, and hang those from the hooks, because otherwise they are always scattered around the floor of my car in the way of whatever I want to do.

Anyway. Ready for the inaugural road trip Sunday, when I drive back to the farm.

[greymoonfeelings]

Last Christmas

based off of “Last Christmas” by Wham!

pairing: Ex-best friend! Rhett x Fem! reader

word count: 2.3k

summary: last christmas you confessed your love to your best friend Rhett, but the next day he ran away with Maria. One year later, he shows up back in Wabang just in time for the holidays.

warnings: christmas angst, maria is the villain but Rhett’s kinda shitty too.

•••

You’d been in love with your best friend Rhett since you were 17 years old. You kept your romantic feelings towards him shoved deep down for fear of losing him. That, and the fact that you knew he didn’t return the feelings. He had been in love with Maria Oliveres for quite some time and while it hurt to watch him pine after another girl, you were mostly content with being his best friend.

It wasn’t until you were 21 that you thought you might have a chance, but you were still too scared of potentially losing the only friend you’d ever had in your small hometown. Instead, you continued to keep those feelings locked away until the small touches and flirtatious comments reached an all-time high and you felt the need to do something about it. You decided the risk was worth the possible reward.

It was Christmas night. You and Rhett had a tradition of bundling up and climbing onto the roof of your house after midnight to escape your respective families. The two of you enjoyed sharing some quiet time to exchange gifts.

“Here, you go first.”

You pull a candy cane-striped box from your coat pocket and shove it into Rhett’s glove-clad hands. You watch excitedly as he fumbles with the rectangular box to reveal your gift to him, a new hunting knife with a carved wooden handle.

You wait with bated breath for his reaction.

“Do you like it? I figured you needed a new one since you lost your other.”

Rhett turns it over in his hands, studying the detailed handle. His initials are carved into the side along with some intricate patterns.

“It’s beautiful. Thank you.” He presses a quick kiss to your forehead and the warmth of his lips takes you by surprise considering the freezing cold temperatures.

“Now it’s your turn.” Rhett places a black velvet box in your hands. You slowly open it to reveal a familiar gold necklace.

“Oh my god. Is this the necklace from the antique store?”

Rhett nods, “I saw the way you looked at it when we went in there last month. I went back later the same day and bought it for you.”

“It’s gorgeous.”

You take the necklace out of the box and let it dangle in your hand. A detailed heart-shaped locket hangs on the simple gold chain.

“I’ll have to find a good picture to put in.”

“Well, I hope you don’t mind,” Rhett begins as he leans in closer to you. “I already put one in.” He thumbs open the locket to reveal a small picture of the two of you.

Your heart feels like it could burst out of your chest. Sitting next to the man you’ve been in love with for over 5 years, looking at a picture of yourselves he had shoved inside a heart-shaped locket was like a scene out of your dreams. You couldn’t imagine anything better than being tucked against Rhett Abbott for the rest of your life.

Slowly, you turned your head to look at Rhett. Your faces were so close, you could see your fogged breath passing his cheek in the nighttime air. You were so touched by his thoughtful gift that this felt like the perfect moment to say what had been on your mind for ages.

You look into Rhett’s piercing blue eyes and before you can even process it, the words are spilling out.

“I’m in love with you.”

He looks at you with a puzzled expression, like he didn’t hear you. “What?”

“Shit, I didn’t mean to spring that on you. It just felt like the right time to tell you.”

“What?” He repeats, this time louder.

“I’m in love with you, Rhett.”

He starts to shake his head, visibly surprised by your confession. “Why would you tell me that?”

“Because it’s true… and I thought you liked me too.” You suddenly feel very small in Rhett’s presence and you decide that you don’t enjoy this feeling at all.

“I’m moving away with Maria tomorrow,” he blurts out.

Your mouth drops open at his rushed statement. There’s a sharp pain in your chest like you’ve just been stabbed.

“You’re what? When were you planning on telling me?” From your defensive tone, it's obvious, you’re crushed.

You shove the necklace he gifted you back into its box and secure it in your coat pocket so you don’t drop it onto the snow-covered ground below you.

“Right after givin’ gifts.“

“What the fuck? You haven’t seen her in years and now you’re just gonna run away with her?” You start to raise your voice, red hot anger floods your bloodstream.

“It’s not runnin’ away, I’m an adult.”

“Rhett, she fucked with your feelings for years! What makes you think she likes you now?”

“We’ve been… together.” He stutters.

“For what? A week?”

“Two…”

“She doesn’t even know you!” You wave your hands around furiously.

“We went to school with her!”

“That doesn’t mean she really knows who you are and you don’t know a damn thing about her either! You just have this pretty little version of her in your head.”

Every insecurity you’ve ever had is now coming to the surface. All the years you spent comparing yourself to Maria, wondering why Rhett couldn’t love you the same way he loved her.

“You’re way outta line.”

“Jesus, Rhett! You’ve been leading me on for months!”

“The hell do you mean?”

“All these little touches and flirty remarks.”

“We’re friends!” Rhett yells, exasperated.

“Last week you told me my boobs looked good in that black top!”

“Yeah, well you were worrying about how it looked!”

“What about when we were at the bar and you put your hand in the back pocket of my jeans while we danced to Valerie!”

“I was tryin’ make sure you didn’t knock into anyone!”

“God! You really are an idiot, Rhett Abbott.”

“It’s not my fault you took it all the wrong way!”

“Just leave, Rhett! Get out of here! Enjoy your new life with Maria, asshole!”

Tears rushed down your face, blurring your vision and staining your cold cheeks as Rhett drove away in his truck.

That was the last time you ever saw Rhett Abbott. He had packed up all his belongings and driven away to god knows where with Maria, leaving his family and you behind. Almost 7 years of friendship with him was thrown away like it was nothing, like you were nothing.

At first, you spent your days crying your heart out and blaming yourself, but eventually, you realized that you couldn’t be responsible for his feelings, or lack thereof. As much as you hated to admit it, Rhett didn’t care about you as much as you thought.

———

Now here you stand, in the Pit Bar with your new best friend, a woman named Aubrey who works with you at the library. After Rhett left, you needed to branch out and she was a natural choice. Besides working at the same place and having a shared love of reading, you had plenty of other things in common. She helped you deal with the aftermath of Rhett and you helped her move into the house she inherited from her Aunt.

“Shit, who’s that fine-lookin’ string bean? I’d sure as hell remember a face like that around here.”

You turn around at your friend’s comment, unsure who you might come face to face with. When you see who she’s referring to, your heart drops. You’d recognize that cowboy anywhere, even in the poor lighting of this bar.

“Are you feeling alright?” Aubrey asks when you face her again. “You look like you just saw a ghost.”

You gulp down the rest of your beer before answering. “I did. That’s Rhett.”

Aubrey’s eyes nearly pop out of her head. “No! *The* Rhett Abbott?”

“Yes,” you frown.

Your friend immediately straightens up, ready to protect you. She had heard all about Rhett and what he did to you.

“What the hell is he doing back?”

“I’m wondering the same thing.”

“Let’s get out of here,” Aubrey suggests.

“No, it’s alright. The holiday party is here and I’m over him.”

“Are you sure about that? I know how many reminders of him there are in this town, but I can’t imagine what seeing him in person must do to you.”

I refuse to continue to be that broken girl. I won’t let him have that much power over my life anymore.”

Aubrey nods, agreeing to support you in your journey to freedom from the emotional clutches of Rhett Abbott. She orders you a refill and leads you over to a group of her other friends.

You continue to mingle with people around the party, trying desperately to keep your focus off of Rhett, but Aubrey catches your eyes wandering over to him every once in a while.

He looks the same as he did the day he left. Long brown hair curling around his neck and a flannel buttoned up his broad chest. He sits there slinging back shots of tequila with his cowboy hat resting on the bar top for half an hour before you look over and he’s nowhere to be found.

You decide he’s likely left for the night and the coast is clear to go get a new round, but you were wrong.

As you lean against the bar waiting for the bartender’s attention, a familiar drawl followed by a tap on the shoulder makes you freeze.

“This seat taken, ma’am?”

You slowly turn your head to look at the man beside you. No amount of time in the world could have prepared you to stare into those clear blue eyes again. Shock crosses his face as he realizes who he’s looking at.

“Shit.” He whispers, followed by your name.

“Rhett.” You nod politely. “Seats all yours. I’m just getting a refill.”

He falls into the wooden bar stool, clutching his beer. You wave to the bartender, getting his attention so you can get away from your ex-best friend as soon as possible.

“How ya been?” His deep baritone voice still makes your legs feel like jello. You hate him and the fact that he can still have this effect on you.

“Fine.” You answer curtly. “Not like you care.”

“I…”

You cut him off, “Let’s not do this, Rhett.”

“Do what?”

“Any of this. The small talk, greetings, and catching up. I don’t want you to pretend to be interested in my life because I’m sure as hell not interested in yours.”

Lie. You often thought about what his new life was like, wondered if he was happy with Maria, and part of you hoped that he was. Just because he hurt you doesn’t mean you stopped caring about him, even though you wished with all your heart that you could.

“So you just sit there and drink your beer and I’ll continue to enjoy my night with my friends.”

“Could you just give me a minute?”

“No. Not after the way you left me. You threw away all our years of friendship like it was nothing, left me in the wind. If I wasn’t so set on pretending to have moved on, I would kick your ass right now.”

“Just give me 10 seconds,” he begs.

“Why are you even here, Rhett? Why aren’t you out there living your fantasy life with your perfect girl? Where is Maria anyways?”

You cast a glance around the bar but secretly hope that your eyes don’t land on her. You’re not sure you could see her without wanting to violently throw up.

“I don’t know,” Rhett mutters.

“It’s a small bar, she couldn’t have gone that far. You should go find her and leave me alone.”

“No, I mean I don’t know where she’s living.”

That catches your attention.

“We didn’t last all that long. Five months, maybe six. We didn’t get along good, barely knew each other. You were right.”

You scoff. “Well, there’s a sentence I never thought I’d hear.”

“She didn’t want a guy like me, she wanted someone better and truth is, I didn’t want a girl like her.”

“Beautiful, smart, popular, confident?”

“Fake, controlling, untrustworthy.”

“Are we talking about the same Maria?”

“Most certainly are.”

At that moment the bartender stops by with another bottle of beer for you.

“Sounds like a real nightmare. Too bad you ruined everything all for a chance with her. I wish I felt sympathy, but you made your own bed. Goodbye, Rhett.”

You stand up to leave with your drink, but Rhett grabs your wrist. “Wait.”

“What?” You snap.

“I’m sorry.” He puts his hands up in defense. “You were right, okay?”

“So you said, and while that does wonders for my ego, it doesn’t change the way you treated me.”

A deep sigh passes through Rhett’s lips. “I know that but could you just let me explain myself?”

“You did that pretty well last year.”

“I wasn’t thinking. I was so caught up in this fake idea that I had of Maria in my mind that I didn’t see what was right in front of me. You were the one always by my side, through thick and thin. You were the girl treatin’ my injuries after rodeos, the one spendin’ her free time in detention with me. Maria barely looked my way in high school and she only wanted me after the fact because she wanted to rebel against her parents, but you, you always liked me for who I was.”

You notice tears forming at his waterline and for a moment you have the urge to pull him into your arms, pepper his stubbled face with kisses and tell him that everything is okay. Six months ago, you would have, but now you’re in the anger stage of your grieving process and you’d love nothing more than to slap him silly.

“I’m glad you finally realized, but it’s too late. I’ve moved on, Rhett. I’m not the same girl you left behind. Never again will I let anyone treat me the way you did, like a second choice. I’m sorry your life with Maria wasn’t how you imagined, but this is your karma.”

[honourablejester]

Adventure Ideas from Fizban’s Treasury of Dragons

I’m rereading it recently, it’s definitely one of my favourite D&D books I’ve ever bought. And the Adventure Hooks & Connected Creatures sections of each dragon’s entry in this book’s Draconomicon are so good for adventures/adventure elements involving dragons. Some of my favourites, arranged according to vague categories:

Dragon Dungeons

“Ruins rumored to hold the treasury of a lost empire are guarded by an elaborate network of ooze-based traps designed by a restless adult black dragon.”

“An adult black dragon has hidden a cache of gems in a dismal topiary maze filled with shambling mounds, traps, and noxious plant life, all for the amusement of testing adventurers.”

(Black dragons, because of their association with fallen cultures and propensity for traps, make for great dungeon builders. Also, acid is just a nasty environmental hazard to build around, and they’re exactly the sorts of sadists who’ll make full use of it)

“A deep dragon wyrmling with an experimental bent has created a "garden" of gray oozes.”

“An adult green dragon and an adult gold dragon skirmish over control of the vine-choked ruins of a floating mausoleum and its library of talking skulls.”

(I have many, many questions about this one. Starting with the floating mausoleum (floating on water? In the air?), the library of talking skulls (though there’s one of those in Sigil as well, necromantic libraries of trapped spirits are apparently a thing), and finishing with why this particular pair of dragons are skirmishing over it. Are they each looking for information? The same information or different information? Is one of them, likely the gold, trying to destroy the library? I just. I have so many questions about this set of circumstances, and it’d be a fascinating thing to have a party stumble across, especially if they have something THEY might want from the library as well)

“A topaz dragon is building a tableau of desiccated creatures and has grown obsessed with catching one treasure hunter who escaped the dragon's clutches.”

NPCs with Draconic Friends

This is just a fantastic collection of NPCs to scatter around and have parties meet. Starting from NPCs with wyrmling companions, ranging from the fun to the rather tragic:

“A gnome relic hunter looting a long-abandoned city strikes up an unlikely partnership with a black dragon wyrmling to plunder an archaeological dig.”

“A knight rescued a bronze dragon wyrmling from sacrifice at the hands of a cult, and the two now travel together in search of wrongs to right.”

“A tiefling child has secretly hidden and raised a red dragon wyrmling from an egg. The wyrmling is bonded to the child, but dangerous to anyone else.”

“A family of deep gnomes adopts a shadow dragon wyrmling, hoping to show the dragon a noble path through gloom and despair.”

“A pirate crew keeps a curmudgeonly topaz dragon wyrmling as a beloved mascot.”

To NPCs with young dragon companions:

“A child's imaginary friend is a very real young copper dragon who can cast invisibility.”

“A young crystal dragon uses dancing lights and hypnotic pattern to give an air of authenticity to a charlatan fortuneteller's act, in exchange for a portion of the take from the charlatan's clients.”

“An assassin and a young emerald dragon train together to master the art of stealth.”

To more dangerous NPCs/enemies with adult or older draconic protection:

“An adult shadow dragon and a death knight are both hunted by adventurers. In their previous lives, the two were sworn enemies, but now they join together against their common foes.”

(There’s a real romance to this, two sworn enemies who fell to separate evils who come together now for pure survival. I would TOTALLY play this for undying loyalty, have the two of them be undoubtedly evil but also genuinely, death-defyingly loyal to each other, the only ones who know fully what each other has been through.)

“A death knight and an ancient white dragon swap tales of old foes and unanswered grievances, nursing the hunger for vengeance that sustains them.”

(Not going to lie, I’m really fond of this pairing, and not just because it’s a fantastic picture of two bitter, hateful, disgruntled old fogies sitting in the bitter cold grumbling together about ancient grudges, but instead of two grumpy old men at a bar, one of them is undead, and the other is a DRAGON. If the party is good at stealth, it’d be a fantastic picture to throw at them, you’re just hiding there holding your breath while these two incredibly lethal foes just *grumble* and commiserate with each other)

Dragons Loyal Beyond Death

Somewhat of a continuation of the above, more draconic loyalty, even after the death/corruption of the one they’re loyal to:

“An adult gold dragon feels responsible for a paladin's fall from grace and sends minions across the world in search of the paladin—now a death knight—so they both might be redeemed.”

(Fizban’s firmly believes that dragons and death knights make the best thematic companions, and I will grant them this point, because it’s got some fantastic warped chivalric imagery and I love it. A nice quest to entangle the party in if they’re the sort to enjoy moral quandries and redemption)

“A renowned gnome trickster, now deceased, so impressed an ancient copper dragon that the dragon assumes the gnome's form from time to time to help keep their legend alive.”

(This is just the … the best, most loving use of a dragon’s lifespan and shapeshifting abilities. That theme from The Last Unicorn of immortality through the memory of an immortal being. And of *course* it’s a gnome and a copper dragon, of course it’s the admiration of two tricksters. I’m not sure how well it’d fit into an adventure, but having a party learn this secret and decide what to do with it, to reveal the deception or let it continue, could be an interesting angle)

“Despite repeated mind flayer attacks, a young deep dragon refuses to leave the cave where the dragon's best friend—an adventurer who won the dragon's respect and affection—lingers as a ghost.”

(… I’m crying. What’s the solution here? Convince the ghost to move on or otherwise lay the ghost to rest so that the dragon can leave, knowing that this will mean the dragon loses their friend for good? Try to convince the dragon to leave their friend even if they still exist? Try to destroy the mindflayer colony? Try to somehow hide the cave from the mindflayers, so that the two can stay together? Try to distract the mindflayers with a different conflict so they’ll focus their efforts in that direction instead (at the risk of other nearby inhabitants)? What a fantastic and heartbreaking little situation to stumble across)

Dragon Communities

Whole communities that have incorporated or built up around a dragon, for when you want dragons as an acknowledged part of daily life somewhere, and have parties decide how to deal with that:

“An adult copper dragon serves as the patron of a community of gnome tinkerers, who present their best ideas to the dragon in hopes of being funded.”

(Sidenote: gnomes and dragons seem to get on great)

“A community of seal hunters reveres an ancient crystal dragon as the spirit of their glacier home. Such worship amuses and flatters the dragon, who keeps the hunters safe and leads them to locations where seals are plentiful.”

“A clan of gnomes pays a young dragon turtle to serve as a mobile refueling platform for their fleet of steamboats.”

(I love this one SO MUCH. Starting from the gnome steamboat flotilla itself, however you want to play this, from just a great lakes inspiring shipping business to an after-the-end Waterworld type scenario, to them then having a goddamn dragon turtle cooperating with them. Fantastic from all angles)

“An emerald dragon is the headmaster in absentia of a bardic college and must be convinced to defend the school in a contest against a rival college.”

Other Cool Dragon Plots

And then just some assorted draconic plots, which was *almost* just ancient dragons causing problems, but there was also one miscellaneous shadow dragon prompt that was just fantastic as well:

“An ancient green dragon is the guardian of a lich's phylactery and extorts favors from the lich.”

(Now *there’s* a power struggle to get embroiled in. A lich attempting to use the parties as agents to unknowingly retrieve their phylactery for them from an *undoubtedly* evil dragon’s hoard, and a subtle, sneaky green dragon who is literally *holding the lich’s life hostage against it* and who could potentially just reveal that to get the party to back off. If they didn’t feel like be subtle and using their own shapeshifting to turn the party back on the lich some other way. I fucking love green dragons. They’re such fantastic bastards and I adore them)

“An ancient crystal dragon follows a pod of whales from one sea to another, having grown fond of the valuable ambergris they leave in their wake. Now whalers are scheming to kill the dragon.”

(Okay. This is just such great *imagery* to start with, the whales and the whalers and the vast draconic protector, the greed and the livelihoods and the protection of nature, the looming mercantile interests of the perfume industry that uses the product … Ambergris is such a fascinating RL substance and history. Also, great quest if you’ve got druids or other characters interested in the protection of nature, balanced against more ‘civilised’ interests and risking’s the party’s relationship with some likely quite powerful players)

“An ancient deep dragon has put the folk of a city to work building the dragon a metropolis to rule in the center of a vast underground salt lake.”

(Again, this is just such a great, eerie image for a party to stumble across. The vast white lake under the black ceiling, the salt-scarred slaves (or are they slaves? could they be working willingly, and why?) toiling to raise labyrinthine white walls, the strange, fungal, nightmarish dragon at the centre of it. Given the deep dragon attraction to knowledge and writings, there could be an underdark library involved, strange writings embedded in carved salt granting the entire edifice unnatural durability as the deep dragon’s regional effect, that physical forms of writing cannot be damaged by nonmagical means within 6 miles of the lair, mean that these white, bloodstained walls *will not fall easily*. It’s just … such an image)

“A shadow dragon hunts the descendants of the miners who, centuries ago, uncovered the Shadowfell portal that caused the dragon's corruption.”

(And for a finisher, I just really like this. This miner’s curse, this vengeance from beneath the earth, this black shadow that follows a family line for not even a crime but a centuries-old *accident*. Possibly the Miner Forty Niner from Scooby Doo stuck a little too hard for me, but cursed miners is still just a great image. Is it worth attempting to convince the dragon that the sins of the fathers should not be borne by the sons? Or do we just have to slay the dragon?)

Conclusion

I do love this book. A lot. The Draconomicon section on its own is well worth reading. But, well. I also just really like dragons. So there’s that. Heh.

[antaresr]

Title: Two koi fish

Ship: Tendershipping

Summary: Ryou is in the process of moving into a new house, he finds many things he had forgotten and others he did not even know existed.

Rating: T

Notes: So I had a moment of inspiration, it was hot, and Bakura shouted in my ear.

~•~

Bakaura watches the sleeping body on the bed, it's summer, it's too hot and his landlord, who is used to the constant cold of London, can't stand it, so he sleeps in light pajamas on good days and on bad ones the only garment covering his body is a pair of boxer shorts.

Just like now, Ryou sleeps on his stomach, just in a pair of navy blue boxers, he's not a fan of the heat either, and working in the sweaty conditions he would have on his host's body makes him lazy, so he just watches Ryou sleep, the back soft and smooth, unusually dotted with moles and freckles. Bakura traces lines that connect the dots into an unfamiliar, amorphous drawing.

Then he remembers the astronomy and astrology books the boy owns, the constellations are nothing more than amorphous figures to which people have given imaginary shapes and ridiculous names with even sillier stories, but it gives meaning to their existence, Bakura supposes, just as Ryou gives meaning to Bakura by allowing him to use his body for his plans as long as he doesn't hurt his friends, what a sweet landlord.

So Bakura stops tracing and just observes and makes sense of those dots and connects them imaginary like in the old days, his imagination flies fast and the white back becomes a night sky and the moles and freckles become stars, taking shapes of animals, plants and legends he once heard, he places his full palm in the center of six moles, Ryou shivers from the coolness of his spectral palm against his feverish skin and sighs, these moles are the most beautiful constellation, on the right shoulder blade, and Bakura memorizes every single one of them, takes possession of Ryou's body and stands up, goes to the craft room and takes a white frame and places it on the easel, always ready for an attack of inspiration, the wooden palette fits perfectly in his hand and starts with a uniform black color.

Ryou packed the oils in the case he had recently bought in a sale, the case had a place for the palette, so he kept it there too, the brushes were in a pen case in a box. Like the rest of his belongings, the last room he had left was the craft room because of the horrendous mess he had, he was sure he would find a lot of carving blades because he always lost them in one way or another.

It was certainly the hardest room to pack, it had taken four hours of taking out, organizing and packing but it had been worth it, he found a new bag full of clay, the blades he had lost and one of his favorite books that he thought he had lost, he had no idea how it had gotten there but he didn't question it, all that needed to be done was to remove the easel and take the stacked paintings with him, there were too many of them.

He managed to dismantle the easel with relative ease, maybe he should check it, the back leg was stuck, surely the screw was swept out or something, he got a bag big enough to hold the paintings and empty frames, he put the empty frames away first, Honda had taken them away, and now he went through the paintings, There were some that he remembered painting himself on days when he wasn't feeling so well and others that had simply been inspiration, there was a painting of sand dunes and a bright sun, he had painted it as a conclusion to all the adventures he had lived in his youth, maybe he could give it to Yugi, maybe it would bring back good memories.

Then there were pictures that he didn't remember at all, he guessed that they had been painted by the spirit of the ring, they were mostly dark, he could feel the pain in the chaotic and angry brush strokes, there were no shapes, only chaotic colors, well.., The spirit could have dedicated himself to abstract art if he hadn't followed his desire for revenge, Ryou hesitated whether to keep the pictures, as a souvenir it would be very strange, he grimaced, but it was the last remnant of a hurt child, the emotions poured into them were strong and it felt wrong to just throw them away.

But the next painting after the red and yellow spots caught his attention, a night sky, the moon in a crescent and stars shining, they were just whitish dots and Ryou was sure it was not a known constellation, he checked the next ones, it was still the same night sky, but as he passed the paintings the constellations became more detailed, delicate traces to connect the dots and still be visible.

A deer, a lily, a tapir, a hand, and two koi fish, like the sign of Pisces, there were other dots without details, but those were the ones the spirit had decided to paint, they didn't seem to be existing constellations to Ryou any more than the fish, where on earth had the spirit seen such strange constellations?

"Oh man, that's a really good painting, you should have your own gallery," Jounouchi looked over his shoulder, Ryou had heard him coming so he wasn't startled.

"It wasn't me," he knew that the silence that followed was because it was impossible to imagine that the ring spirit could create something so beautiful.

"The other Bakura was very talented," Yugi was gently objective, Ryou couldn't deny the statement.

"And he was obsessed with fish" Anzu pointed to the next painting, this time it was just the Koi fish in close-up, swimming peacefully in the sky, it was a simple painting, he could even call it sentimental, Ryou felt a tingle in his right shoulder blade which he scratched absentmindedly.

"Well, I guess we all have a soft side," he shrugged and put the spirit paintings into bags, yes, even the ones that were just colorful blobs.

When they arrived at Ryou's new house, they left the boxes with their belongings in the living room while they went to the kitchen for snacks and drinks, Ryou sat down for a second, he was tired and his arms hurt, but something caught his eye, it was the fish painting that was peeking out of the bag where the paintings were stored, He decided he could hang it on the nail that was already set by the previous owners, so he stood up and took the painting out and carried it to the wall, hanging it up and centering it, it needed a coat of varnish to protect the paint but he could do that later.

"Hey, that looks great," Jounouchi handed him a glass of strawberry soda and Ryou nodded absentmindedly after taking a sip from his glass.

"I wonder what he was thinking or feeling when he made all those paintings," he sighed, the ghost had always been a mystery and even years later, he still left traces of riddles that Ryou couldn't decipher.

"Calm?" Anzu suggested, that could be it, couldn't it? They were swimming, following each other, they weren't fighting or anything.

"Aren't they supposed to mean prosperity?" Honda crossed his arms.

"That's in China," Anzu replied, giving him a small summary of how they had arrived in Japan.

"Love," Ryou whispered, Yugi was the only one who turned to him and smiled, "and friendship.

"Maybe we'll never know how he felt," the tricolor whispered as well.

"I guess he'll always be a mystery, just like he liked to be."