#and it’s a small town so there’s very little jobs around anywhere and what is available isn’t the easiest shit to get into

[insanechayne]

~ ~ ~

[baejax-the-great]

So the one reason to go to Arkansas is to drive through a town named "Flippin," where everything sounds like a euphemism. Flippin Fire Dept. Flippin School. Flippin Police. Etc.

While that does sound charming, I don't know that justifies a trip to Arkansas

[violettwrites]

american teenagers — intro.

next

helloooooo my loves!!! here’s an intro into my comeback fic, american teenagers! i sat on this idea for a little while during my tiny break and i honestly couldn’t get it out of my head. i was heavily inspired by ethel cain for the vibes of it all, hence the name :)

please bear with me in all this as i do get easily overwhelmed and experience burnout very quickly but you guys are always supportive so i have no doubts!!

i’m not sure when the first chapter will be out, but i’m slowly working on it as i am very excited for you guys to read it! lots of love xx

the summer of 1987 was supposed to feel different. everyone in town kept saying it— teachers, parents, the tired voices on the radio between commercials. they said it like graduating highschool meant anything would actually change. but for the kids in the trailer park on the outskirts of town, it wasn’t much more than another hot season stretched out between long days and longer nights. the same parties by the lake, and the same dreams about escaping that no one really believed in.

the days were always the same for you. early mornings at the gas station counter, and evenings at the diner pouring coffee for truckers passing through. anything to keep you out of your father’s path really. your nights were often spent on the roof of your trailer, a cigarette in one hand and a notebook full of half-finished plans and dreams in the other. for daryl, the boy you had known since he was a scrawny little thing with clothes too big for him, it was merle’s shadow and busted knuckles, endless hours fixing bikes and cars in the sun while dreaming of roads that led anywhere but this small town.

you couldn’t remember a time when daryl dixon wasn’t around. his trailer was only three down from yours. you had been inseparable since the day you caught him standing by the broken fence of the trailer park, segregating the southside of town from the rest of the townspeople. the two of you had seemed like an odd pair to everyone else— daryl’s constant silence and smoldering anger along with your rough edges and restless energy —but somehow, it worked.

the summer after highschool felt like your last chance to figure out if those dreams the two of your had whispered about on those late night drives would ever come true. but the weight of this small town— the trailers, the jobs that paid barely enough to keep the lights on and your fathers off your backs, the scars you didn’t talk about —it all hung heavy between the both of you.

you didn’t really realise it at first, the way your feelings for daryl had shifted. it wasn’t a lightning bolt or this big grand revelation in your head. it was slower than that, like the way the heat crept up during june, making itself known in those hazy afternoons and the sweat dripping down your back. you started to notice those small things— how his voice softened when he talked to you, or the way his shoulders relaxed when the two of you were alone. you couldn’t pin point when it changed, only that it had.

daryl wasn’t any better at handling it either. he’d always thought of you as the one person who saw him for more than what people whispered about the dixons— trailer park trash, troublemakers, destined for nothing. you didn’t flinch at the bruises he didn’t explain, or the scars he wouldn’t talk about. you were his anchor, his light. but now, everytime you smiled at him or touched his arm, it felt like something inside him was breaking apart and putting itself back together all at once.

that summer wasn’t just about the heat, the bad decisions, or the endless nights spent sitting under a starless sky. it was about the weight of knowing you could only hold onto each other for so long before something— or someone —pulled you apart.

neither of you had the words to say it yet, but you both knew: the end of your childhood was here, and whatever seemed to come next would either bring you both closer or tear you apart for good.

if you enjoyed this, please give it a like/reblog! your support always means the world to me 🫶🏻

stay tuned for the first chapter! if you’d like me to add a tag list, comment below!

[sematarygirls]

stop i’m literally so in love with your acc, it’s gorgeous!!!! missed you sm. need to start writing or creating something again tbh but idk what.

anywaysss had this super cool drummer!rafe idea where they’re all like mid-20s and were suspected of murder (maybe a roadie died or an ex bandmate??)

buttt there you are interning with the local police department (aka nancy drew nerd) and go poking around (woah somehow you end up in rafe’s arms what a coincidence). maybe he did it or maybeee he didn’t, who knows. ur just a silly little inter.. right?? unless ofc this wasn’t the first time you met and you both did it together?

anyways do what you wish with this, feel free to let it rot. ur a genius mastermind either way. ily mwahhh

(here’s some drew pics mini moodboard bc why not)

Partners In Crime — Rafe Cameron.

pairing: drummer!rafe x policeintern!reader

summary: your internship at the kildare county sheriff's department proves extremely useful after ex-bandmate of local rock sensation, morphine animals, is found murdered.

warnings: smut! semi-public sex, unprotected p in v, murder, inaccuracies regarding police work

word count: 3.6k words !

a/n: this request is AMAZING omg!! your mind is literally so incredibly brilliant. i am so incredibly jealous. i just want to scoop it out and study it because your plots are always so genius it's insane. also, i got a little freaky with this request. i don't know where it came from, but i hope yall enjoy. side note, i know nothing about police stations or internships beyond what I've seen on tv, so this is most likely very far from anything that would happen in real life.

✶ . ࣪ ׅ   You cursed quietly, swatting a mosquito away from you as your fingers danced along the collection of files, skimming through the box of evidence labeled "Ryder, Elliot". It was July, and the summer was in full swing. the air was thick and heavy, causing a layer of sticky sweat to cling to every inch of your body. The cramped storage room seemed to be at least 10 degrees hotter than the rest of the police station, and it had the added bonus of recycled air that smelled of dust and mildew.

Your gaze flickered between the door and the police report in your hands, readying yourself to be caught any moment now. Technically, you weren't supposed to be looking at anything in this room. You were simply an intern, and as such, your jobs mostly consisted of clerical work like running the front desk, answering phones, and filling out the occasional police report—typically for some misdemeanor offense that they had granted you competent enough to navigate your way around.

On a normal day, you did not have clearance to be in this little room with all the important documents pertaining to cases ranging anywhere from vandalism to first-degree murder. However, on this particular day, you had been instructed to organize and clean the records room, ensuring that everything was dusted off and placed in alphabetical order.

You knew you weren't really supposed to take a peek into any of these boxes, but when you saw the name Elliot Ryder on one of the boxes, you simply couldn't help yourself. It was the biggest case your town had seen in the last decade.

"Local rock legend Morphine Animal's ex-band-mate found murdered" had been splashed across headlines for weeks, each news site ranging from local to national discussing the case and their theories, but surprisingly much of the case had remained a mystery.

Morphine Animals had been practically untouchable ever since they skyrocketed to fame. It was truly fascinating how quickly they went from small-town rockstar wannabes to household names. They became a national sensation practically overnight, and it all started when Elliot Ryder was fired as the band's drummer and replaced by Rafe Cameron.

You remembered it vividly. Elliot went around telling everybody who would listen how he was cheated out of fame. The other three band members had been his childhood best friends. The band was their passion project and they had vowed to do it all together, but then, one night, they just dropped him out of the blue, and Rafe Cameron took his spot.

People couldn't help but wonder if the band's colorful history had anything to do with the murder. The whole situation would've made more sense if Rafe was the one murdered. It would be open and shut. Elliot killed Rafe to get back at him for taking his spot and stealing the fame that was "rightfully" his, but revenge just doesn't quite sit right with the case being turned around.

Rockstar drummer that has it all kills small-town drunk nobody? It just doesn't fit.

You turn your attention back to the police report in hand. You didn't have much time left before someone inevitably needed a file or came to check on you, so you needed to focus, read it, and put everything back where you found it before that happened.

Case Number 0608

Responding Officer: Sheriff Susan Peterkin

On 06/28/2023 at approximately 2100 hours, I responded to a noise complaint at 2971 Shorecrest Drive.

I knocked on the front door, but there was no answer. I announced myself as the police and knocked once more, but again, received no answer. I looked into the window for signs of life, and saw Elliot Ryder laying prone on the living room floor with a pool of blood around him. I immediately radioed for assistance and kicked down the door. I checked his pulse and discovered that Ryder was deceased. While I waited for assistance, I secured the scene. At approximately 2110 hours, Deputy Victor Shoupe, Officer Danielle Lyonne, and Officer Franklin Hewitt arrived on scene. Officers Hewitt and Lyonne canvased the surrounding homes and took their statements to find out if anyone had seen or heard anything. Their individual statements are enclosed. Deputy Shoupe called for the coroner and cordoned off the area while I began assessing the crime scene in a spiral method. Pictures included document the blood patterns and shattered glass discovered at the scene. No murder weapon was discovered.

I instructed Deputy Shoupe to stay at the scene and await the coroner's arrival while I headed back to the station. At approximately 2330 hours, I left the scene.

Your eyebrows furrowed in concentration as you read over the report. You used the back of your hand to wipe the beads of sweat that had formed on your forehead—created from a mix of the unbearable heat and your growing nervousness as the moments ticked by—stopping them from dripping down your skin.

Your gaze darted to the door once again before returning to the files, pulling out a series of pictures that documented the crime scene.

He was found on his stomach, the hair on the back of his head matted with blood. The cause of death was blunt force trauma, and it was very evident from the crime scene photos.

You turned your attention from the photos documenting his body to the ones showing the state his living room had been left in. There was broken glass from a shattered mirror near the front door coating the carpet, and the living room looked like it had been hit by a tornado. Furniture had been turned over, his belongings strewn about in a disorganized fashion. It seemed like whoever had been there was looking for something.

Something in one of the photos caught your eye. It was small, almost imperceptible, but the flash from the camera reflected off something imbeded into the cream colored carpet just beneath the table that Elliot's body was found beside.

Your brows furrowed as you brought the photo closer to your face, squinting to get a better look.

The sound of footsteps approaching made you jump. You quickly folded the picture and shoved it into your pocket before placing the photos and police report back into the box and hauling it onto the shelf.

"Hey, kid," Deputy Shoupe peeked his head inside, the sound of him chewing his gum seemingly reverberating off the walls. You turned, your face flushed, and your heart practically beating out of your chest. You had managed to get everything in order moments before he opened the door.

"Uh, yes, sir?" You cleared your throat, brushing away a strand of hair that had gotten stuck to your sticky forehead.

"Boss lady needs the Ryder files," he informed you, still smacking his gum. The sound filled your ears, somehow louder than the beating of your own heart.

You nodded, swallowing hard as you turned and grabbed the box, the piece of paper in your pocket feeling like it weighed a ton as you carried the heavy box over to him. "Can I ask why?" You worked up the courage to ask, handing him the files, your palms sweaty as you pulled back.

"Just got done interviewing Rafe Cameron," he told you, propping the box under his arm. Your eyes widened a fraction. Why was Sheriff Peterkin reinterviewing him? Was there new evidence to connect him to the murder? "So, she wants to take another look at the evidence."

"Oh," you simply said, the room seeming to grow hotter. "Whew, god, it's hot," you huffed, fanning yourself. "Are you hot?" You asked, clearly not doing well at playing it cool.

"You alright kid?" He asked, quirking an eyebrow curiously at your odd behavior.

"Yeah, I think I'm just gonna step outside and get some air," you nodded, suddenly feeling very suffocated in the stuffy atmosphere.

"Sure, whatever," he shrugged, clearly not all that interested in you or your actions as he turned on his heels to deliver the box to Peterkin.

You hurried down the long, grey corridor, pushing the backdoor open harshly when you arrived at it. Outside wasn't much cooler, but the small, shaded alleyway provided reprieve from the sun's unrelenting rays. You took a few deep breaths, feeling better now that you were breathing fresh, clean air.

"You look like shit," a voice piped up. Your head whipped to the side, eyes finding the source. Rafe Cameron was leaned up against the wall, a lit cigarette dangling from his lips. He was wearing a white tank top that clung to him like a second skin. the heat was just as unforgiving on him, his muscles glistening and his hair sticking out in all directions, a few strands clinging to his slick forehead.

"Excuse me," you scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest. Truthfully, you knew you probably did look like shit. You were sweating like a pig, your clothes clinging to you uncomfortably, and after hours of running your hands through it and being subject to intense humidity, your hair was undoubtedly frizzy and wild.

Rafe pushed off the wall, taking one last drag before flicking the cigarette onto the ground and crushing it under his boot. His blue eyes locked onto yours, amusement dancing in them as he approached you. "I'm just sayin'," he drawled, his voice a low rumble.

"Yeah, well, you don't look too hot yourself," you rolled your eyes. It was a lie, of course. Somehow, he even made sweating to death in the sweltering July heat look sexy. It was utterly infuriating.

He grinned, amused at your attempt to insult him, but he could see right through you. "You mad at me or somethin'?" His hand reached out and wrapped around your wrist, his grip sending shivers down your spine.

"You just said I looked like shit," you glared at him. The heat was making you irritable, and it didn't help that his stupid fucking earring—that you'd told him twenty goddamn times to take out—had showed up in a crime scene photo.

Rafe's thumb began to trace circles on the inside of your wrist, his touch sending electric jolts through your body. "C'mon, you know I was just teasing you, baby," he murmured, his voice soft and seductive. He knew how to play your body better than he knew how to play his drums.

You stubbornly pulled away from him, ignoring the way your body reacted to his touch. "You're lucky I got saddled with file room duty, asshole" you gritted out, pulling the picture from your back pocket and shoving it into his muscular chest.

Rafe wore a silver stud in his ear, a staple of his rockstar persona, and that little glimmer of reflected flash in that crime scene photo was that stud, which had fallen out during the murder.

Thankfully, it hadn't been logged into evidence and had been completely overlooked by the bumbling small town crime scene techs, so you only had to take the photo to keep that little piece of incriminating evidence from ever being discovered.

Rafe glanced down at the photo, his expression unchanging as he took it in. He looked back up at you, his eyes narrowing slightly. "You worried about me, babe?" He asked, his voice laced with mockery, but there was a harder edge to it that betrayed his unperturbed demeanor.

"No," you shot back, your brows furrowing in frustration. God, the heat was making you bitchy. "I'm worried about myself. I mean, I covered up your little fuck up perfectly. The last thing I need is for you and your lame ass jewlery to fuck me over."

Rafe's hand snaked out and wrapped around your throat, his grip tight but not painful. He backed you up against the brick wall, his eyes boring into yours. "You think I can't take care of my own shit?" He asked, his voice a low growl. His patience was clearly wearing thinner and thinner by the second. He was already agitated at being ripped away from band practice to do this little song and dance with the police. The last thing he needed was you bitching at him and challenging his capabilites.

"If you could take care of your own shit, you wouldn't have called me in the middle of the night panicking because you fucking killed someone," you retorted, not backing down. You weren't afraid of him in the slightest. You knew what he was capable of, but it didn't scare you. In fact, there was a twisted part of you that liked knowing about his violent side.

Rafe Cameron had been the one to kill Elliot Ryder in cold blood, and he'd called you up moments after because he knew your experience as a police intern would come in handy. You had rushed over and helped him stage the whole thing as a burglary gone wrong. Unfortunately, Rafe hadn't realized his little wardrobe malfunction until it was too late to go back and retrieve it.

His face darkened, his hand tightening around your throat. "I had it handled," he hissed. "Until you showed up and decided to play detective." His other hand reached down, gripping your hip possessively. "You're supposed to be on my side, not throwing my mistakes in my face."

"Then stop making dumb fucking mistakes," you spat, your jaw clenching in annoyance. You could feel your panties growing wetter by the second, which only fueled your frustration toward him. You hated how he could still make you want him even when he was being a complete asshole.

Rafe's face twisted with anger, but beneath it, you saw a flicker of something else—desire. He leaned in close, his breath hot against your lips. "You know, I should just shut you up for good," he muttered, his grip on your throat unyielding.

"Yeah?" You asked, your voice almost taunting. "You gonna kill me, Rafe?" You looked him in the eye, not backing down. "Who's gonna clean up your messes then, huh?"

His expression turned grim, and for a monent, you thought he might actually do it. But, then, without warning, he crushed his mouth to yours in a rough, bruising kiss. His hands tightened further on your hip, pressing against your body and pinning you in place.

He bit down hard on your lip, drawing blood. His tongue darted out, lapping up the blood and soothing the wound as his thumb rubbed over your pulse point, feeling the way your heartbeat quickened with desire. His mouth tasted of nicotine, stale beer, a slight hint of mint, and then the metallic taste of your blood on his tongue. If it were anyone else, you would've recoiled in disgust, but something about him was intoxicating.

He was so close you could feel his bulge pressing into you, and it only made you want him more. You didn't care that you were pressed against a wall in the back alley behind the police precinct, in fact, something about it, the potential thrill of getting caught, turned you on more.

Rafe's hands moved to grip your ass under your skirt, roughly palming the fatty flesh with his rough hands. He broke the kiss, his lips moving to your neck, where he bit down hard enough to leave a mark. "You drive me fucking crazy," he growled.

"Yeah, well you're fucking insufferable," you said breathlessly, tilting your head to the side and threading your fingers into his hair as he continued his assault on your neck.

He grunted in response, his hands squeezing your backside painfully before he pulled away to fumble with his belt, the buckle clanking loudly in the otherwise quiet alley.

As he fiddled with his belt, you took your opportunity to latch your lips onto his neck, the salty taste of his skin mixed with the thin layer of sweat coating him danced on your tongue as you sucked and nipped at the areas you knew would drive him wild.

Rafe's breathing hitched as you marked him, his body stiffening. He finally got his belt undone and his pants unbuttoned, shoving them down just enough to free his hard length.

He gripped your thighs, hoisting you up and pressing you hard against the wall as your legs wrapped around his waist. "Think you need to learn your place," he said darkly, pulling your panties to the side.

With one swift movement, he thrust deep inside you, filling you completely. He held you pinned against the wall, his hips rolling into yours in deep, punishing thrusts. "You're supposed to worship the ground I walk on," he muttered, his voice ragged.

You gasped, your fingers digging into his shoulders as he began to move, his powerful hips snapping back and forth as he pounded into you. His blue eyes, darkened with lust, locked onto yours, watching your face intently.

"Answer me," he demanded, his voice low and menacing. He slowed his pace, his hips rolling leisurely, his thick length stretching you wide. He knew his slow pace was like torture to you. "Tell me you worship me, baby."

"Fuck," you moaned, your face scrunching in a mix of pain and pleasure as the brick wall dug uncomfortably into your back. "I worship you, Rafe."

A smug grin spread across his face at your words, his pace quickening as he continued to slam into you, his hips rolling in that way that always hit that spot inside you, making you practically see stars. "Good girl," he praised, his lips finding yours again.

Your arms snaked around his neck, fingers curling into his hair and tugging slightly as his mouth swallowed your little whimpers and moans.

He released your mouth, his head tilting down to watch where you were joined. He let out a low groan, his body tensing as he watched himself disappear inside of you. "Look at you taking me so well," he gritted out, his pace quickening.

You gasped when you felt his thumb begin rubbing tight circles on your clit, drawing you closer and closer to the edge. "Such a dirty fuckin' girl," he growled. "Letting me fuck you in an alleyway, behind a police station no less." His lewd words only served to heighten your arousal.

His other hand reached up to wrap around your throat, applying just enough pressure to make you dizzy as he continued to pound into you. "I'm going to fill this pretty little cunt with my cum," he snarled, his voice echoing off the brick walls.

His words paired with his grip on your throat and the way he was pounding into you sent you over the edge, your eyes rolling back as you moaned his name.

His hand on your neck tightened possessively as you came apart for him, his own release following shortly after as he felt your walls squeeze down on him, milking his cock. He buried his face against your neck, his breathing hot and ragged against your skin. "That's my girl."

You panted, your head falling back against the brick as you caught your breath, your mind reeling as the weight of what you'd just done crashed over you. It was reckless and stupid to have let that happen, especially behind the police station you worked at. If anyone saw you, it could raise some serious red flags.

Rafe slowly lowered you back to the ground, pressing one last kiss to your swollen lips before tucking himself back into his underwear and pulling his jeans up, refastening his belt. He leaned against the wall beside you, lighting a cigarette as he looked you over with a lazy smirk. "Try not to look so guilty."

"Don't be an asshole," you shot him a sharp look, fixing your skirt and blouse. Now, you had to go back to work and act as if you didn't have a murderer's cum leaking out of you.

Rafe took a long drag of his cigarette, blowing the smoke out in a slow stream. He watched you intently, his eyes glinting with amusement as he observed you straighten your hair and adjust your collar, trying to regain some semblance of professionalism. "I'll pick you up after your shift. We've got a few more things to discuss."

"You can't pick me up here," you said, crossing your arms over your chest.

Rafe raised an eyebrow, pushing off from the wall and taking a few slow steps closer to you. "And why not?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous. He knew very well why not, but he wanted to hear you say it.

"Don't play dumb, Rafe," you rolled your eyes. He could be so very infuriating when he wanted to be.

"Say it," he insisted, his voice firm. He took another step closer, towering over you. "Tell me why I can't pick you up here." His hand reached up, his fingers brushing against your cheek in a deceptively gentle touch.

You huffed frustratedly, narrowing your eyes at his insistence. "Because you killed Elliot Ryder, and I'm your fucking accomplice," you relented.

Rafe's hand tightened, gripping your cheeks firmly, his touch bordering on painful as he leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear. "Shhh," he whispered, his voice dark and threatening. "You shouldn't go around saying things like that, baby."

You glared up at him, your annoyance evident in your gaze. Everything always had to be a game with him, and sometimes it utterly maddened you.

Rafe's lips curled into a smirk as he pulled back, his hand falling away from your face. "I'll pick you up around the corner," he said, as if the matter was settled. He took another drag of his cigarette before tossing it to the ground and heading down the alleyway to his car.

You watched him leave, your gaze burning holes into his back for a moment as he retreated before you shook your annoyance away, pulling the back door to the station open and heading back inside.

[keepingitformyself]

we might just get away with it (iii)

A/N: sorry for the long wait, truth is life has been life-ing. and uni has also had all my attention. using all this inspo and energy to write as much as i can!!! hoping it lasts me a while. enjoy this third chapter :)

previous parts: part i part ii

synopsis: hollywood is a tricky place for someone new like you, a certain elusive redhead is hoping you can let her in.

pairings: writer!natalie rushman x youngactress!reader

genre: slow burn asf

warning: super slow burn. sorry gang, hang in there.

please do not repost my work anywhere for any reason at all. if you do see this happen to any of my stories, please let me know. thank you x.

you find out shortly after lunch with natalie that you’ll be set to shoot another film outside the country. samantha sends you a text saying:

cooper raiff wants your number. you got the job.

in the next seconds jenna’s caller id flashes on your screen. an excited exclamation when she greets you.

“guess who you’ll be seeing in new zealand…”

————

5 months later.

the life of an actor is very fast paced.

you’ve spent the last few months in new zealand shooting for another film. you lived out of a tiny home in the new zealand countryside but you don’t ever complain about it.

because why would you? your free days are spent going to local bars in the small town you stay in with cast and crew. jenna, on days off set will make you—and sometimes the whole cast—dinner and you’ll both sit outside your neighboring tiny homes enjoying the evening sky.

you do what you love and you do it with people who you adore.

but,

you’ve also spent the last few months jumping on calls over zoom with your writers room for the series. sometimes with greta, natalie and series producers, sometimes just you and greta or you and natalie.

it’s all really great.

right before your last week in new zealand you do get a call though. it’s natalie and greta, both on facetime. they break the news that the script is nearly fully developed and it’s only a matter of getting everything finalized and ready for production in the coming months.

you’re in the middle of getting your makeup done when you find out. you’re so ecstatic you nearly jump out of your seat. it earns you questioning looks from jenna and auli’i, both girls seeming interested to know what disrupted your peace.

before you know it you’re back from filming in new zealand and catching a flight back to la.

your brain is reeling. the pressure is on. and when you arrive at the airport there’s distant camera shutters as you try to retrieve your luggage.

in the car ride home you get a message from natalie.

welcome back. can we meet before the meeting tomorrow?

and so you do.

natalie texts you to meet at a coffee shop, near the west side of hollywood, she’s typing concentratedly into her laptop when you spot her at a corner table.

“hey, stranger!” you say once you’re in front of her.

natalie looks up in an instant. her eyes shine and her smile reaches them. she’s up and circling her arms around your waist in the next second. her embrace on you is one that you weirdly find much relief in.

“please, sit. i ordered your coffee for you already.” and she’s tucking out a chair across from her for you to sit in.

but you’re caught in confusion at her words,

“how do you know my coffee order?” you ask.

all she does is smile like it’s the most obvious thing ever.

“we’ve been working for so long. i’ve memorized your order from all those meetings with greta and such.”

and all you can really do is laugh because you suppose it’s sort of easy to catch onto something when it’s the same every single time. still, it’s oddly thoughtful, and that thoughtfulness makes your chest feel warm, a sensation you’re not entirely sure how to process.

you sit down, folding your coat over the back of the chair, and reach for the cup in front of you. the familiar aroma greets you, a little comfort in the chaos of the past few months.

natalie’s gaze lingers on you as you take your first sip, and for a fleeting moment, you wonder if she’s always been this observant. or maybe, you’ve just been too preoccupied to notice.

“so,” you say, breaking the silence as you set the cup down. “what’s the meeting-before-the-meeting about?”

natalie leans back in her chair, crossing her legs in a way that looks effortless but is probably calculated. she tilts her head slightly, the hint of a smirk playing on her lips. “can’t a colleague just want to catch up?”

you narrow your eyes at her, skeptical but amused. “you don’t strike me as the type to waste time with small talk.”

“fair,” she admits, her smirk softening into something gentler. “i wanted to talk to you about the upcoming season—off the record, before the full team gets involved.”

now she has your full attention. “okay…what about it?”

natalie glances around the café briefly, as if ensuring no one’s listening, and then leans forward, resting her elbows on the table. “it’s about your character. greta and i have been discussing some adjustments, and we want your input. you’ve lived in her skin for a whole season. you know her better than anyone.”

her words catch you off guard. “you’re asking for my input? like, before the script is finalized?”

“exactly,” natalie says. “you’re not just the face of the show; you’re its heart. and i want this season to feel like it belongs to you as much as it does to greta or me.”

it’s a compliment so disarming that you find yourself momentarily speechless. you’d been prepared for a critique, maybe some notes on your performance, but this—this feels different. it feels…personal.

“i—i don’t know what to say,” you finally manage. “that means a lot, natalie.”

her eyes soften even further, and there’s something unreadable in her expression. “you deserve it. you work harder than anyone i know.”

before you can respond, your phone buzzes on the table, breaking the moment. you glance at the screen: it’s a text from jenna.

dinner tonight? i’m making that thing you like. bring wine.

you smile at the message but quickly turn your attention back to natalie, who’s watching you with quiet curiosity.

“sorry about that,” you say, locking the screen. “so, what adjustments are we talking about?”

natalie shifts her laptop toward you, opening a document filled with notes and outlines. as she starts explaining the changes, you’re struck by how passionate she is—not just about the show but about your role in it.

and maybe, just maybe, about you.

later that evening, you’re standing outside jenna’s apartment door, bottle of wine in one hand and your phone in the other, responding to yet another text from samantha. the scent of garlic and fresh herbs wafts through the open window, a promise of something comforting and homemade. you don’t have many constants in your life right now, but jenna’s dinners are one of them.

when she answers the door, she’s wearing an oversized sweater, her hair messily tied back. “finally! i was starting to think you ditched me for someone more interesting.”

you roll your eyes, stepping inside and handing her the wine. “because i have so much free time for that.”

“hey, you’re the star now,” she teases, grabbing two glasses from the cabinet. “how was the meeting? or can you not talk about it? big, scary NDAs and all that.”

you follow her to the kitchen, watching as she plates roasted vegetables and some kind of stuffed chicken. it smells incredible, but you’re already preoccupied with her question.

“it was fine,” you say vaguely, leaning against the counter. “productive.”

jenna glances at you over her shoulder, her brow raised. “you’re a terrible liar, you know.”

“i’m not lying!”

“then why do you look like you’re replaying the entire meeting in your head right now?” she sets the plates on the table and gestures for you to sit. “come on, spill. was it greta? did she grill you about something? or wait—was it natalie?”

you blink, caught off guard. “why would it be natalie?”

jenna shrugs, pouring the wine and sitting across from you. “i don’t know. you just get…weird when you talk about her.”

you frown, trying to process what she means. “weird how?”

you had previously mentioned natalie to jenna. back in new zealand she'd always wonder who you were having meetings with all the time. the girl got curious, and would ask so many questions. sometimes, she'd be in the same room as you when they happened.

she'd catch moments with you and natalie as well. something jenna thought was just natalie being overtly friendly, but then when you'd look off to the side and meet jenna's eyes, she knew you were thinking the same.

“like you’re trying not to think about her but failing miserably.” jenna takes a sip of her wine, studying your reaction. “she intimidates you, doesn’t she?”

“not exactly,” you mutter, cutting into your chicken.

“she’s a big deal,” jenna continues, unfazed. “a genius writer, total powerhouse, and not to mention—”

“don’t,” you warn, already knowing where this is going.

“—drop-dead gorgeous.”

you groan, covering your face with your hands. “i’m not having this conversation.”

“oh, come on! you can’t tell me you haven’t noticed.”

“of course i’ve noticed,” you admit, your voice muffled behind your hands. “everyone notices. but it’s not like that.”

“not like what?”

“not like…that,” you repeat, gesturing vaguely. “she’s like my boss, for one thing. and for another, she’s just—she’s natalie. she’s focused, brilliant, older, wiser, and way out of my league.”

jenna tilts her head, a knowing smirk tugging at her lips. “so, you have thought about it. wouldn't it be hot to date someone older than you though?”

you glare at her, but your flushed cheeks betray you. “i'm not talking about this anymore.”

“fine,” she says, holding up her hands in surrender. “but just so you know, if someone like natalie rushman was looking at me the way she looks at you? i wouldn’t be sitting here eating chicken with my best friend. i’d be figuring out what that look means.”

you shake your head, pretending to focus on your plate. but jenna’s words linger, stubbornly taking root in the back of your mind.

does natalie look at you differently? you’ve noticed her attentiveness, the way she always seems to know exactly what to say to put you at ease. but you’d chalked it up to her being a consummate professional, someone who’s mastered the art of making others feel seen.

now, though, you’re not so sure.

jenna grins at your silence, clearly pleased with herself. “think about it,” she says, clinking her glass against yours.

and you do. later that night, as you lie awake staring at the ceiling, your thoughts drift to the way natalie had smiled at you earlier, her voice low and certain when she called you the heart of the show.

you tell yourself it doesn’t mean anything.

but deep down, a tiny part of you wonders if it does.

[aziraphales-library]

It is weird but are there any Aziracrow face sitting fics? I was sure face sitting is a literal joke and now i somehow cant take that it actually IS a thing, reading something would make me more comfortable with it, i think...

Thank you for your work and have a nice day!

Here are some face-sitting fics...

taste his precious fruits by animeangelriku (E)

“You must be terribly sensitive…” His hands have moved from Crowley’s back to his hips, perfectly manicured nails scratching his sides all the while, and his grip is possessive, craving. “But I would so love to taste you one more time.” Aziraphale bites the flesh slightly lower from where his mouth last was, just a few kisses away from where Crowley’s plump lips must be glistening with arousal. “My dear, will you give me one more? Will you do that for me?” Not can you. Will you. Crowley already knows he will.

picture it soft by perilit (E)

Crowley has noticed, certainly, the way that tattered waistcoat puckers a bit around the angel’s sides these days, the way the seat of those trousers fits more snugly than before. He’s had to excuse himself from the room more than once because of it, thoughts reduced to mush at the barest glimpse of the fuller curve of Aziraphale’s arms. Shameless body worship.

Tucking In / Playing With Your Food by ashaydamn (E)

Above all, Aziraphale had taken the keenest liking to the taste of Crowley’s cunt. Though, ‘liking’ was not a strong enough word - he adored it, craved it, was an absolute glutton for it. From the first touch of his tongue to those throbbing folds, he was insatiable, devouring Crowley like the starved creature he’d been before that fateful night in Job’s cellar. After all, he had certainly been hungry for more than just food. Aziraphale enjoyed Crowley the same way he enjoyed a meal - ravenously. -- Of course, nothing made Crowley happier than watching his angel cum. His body would light up - sometimes literally - with a sort of pure, unadulterated joy, and the sounds he’d make then could rival the oeuvre of any composer in the known universe. But, Crowley had found it markedly difficult to resist his innate ophidian biology on the journey to said ecstasy - though frankly, he’d also discovered that indulging in it from time-to-time ultimately fostered a uniquely euphoric experience for them both. Crowley’s a snake - he likes to play with his food. -- In which Aziraphale indulges in his favorite meal, then Crowley has a go at making his angel see stars.

love me like you know me by 11min_min11 (E)

Crowley and Aziraphale have just moved into a small town and decide to go to the fair that's running today, to get to know the locals a little better. When they come home, they decide to get to know each other a little better. Not that there's much left to know.

We Live With No Lies by MovesLikeBucky (E)

“What?  Got somethin’ on my face?” “No, it’s just, well…” Aziraphale sets his glass down on the table and fidgets with his signet ring, “I wonder if you might allow me to assist you.” “What?” “With your boots, my dear,” Aziraphale is doing his level best to look anywhere but at Crowley’s face.  “I daresay you seem very exhausted, and I could quite easily help you with them.  If you’d like.” --- What starts as a simple favor turns into so much more.

Gibraltar May Tumble by adverbian (E)

A little first-time (extremely soft) light bondage on a rainy afternoon, with feelings and tenderness and love. It was an ancient dream, old as the Garden and a vine that had twined around two branches together, dangerous as the offer of a sheltering wing. But in this quiet cottage, in this bedroom looking out to the hills and the sea and the sky, certain things were proving possible, after all.

- Mod D

[amourane]

sweeter than candy

pairing: baker!james potter x baker!reader

genre: fluff

w/c: 1.2k

summary: six years ago you left the small town you were trapped in and you would have never thought that the cute boy next door would be the one running the bakery your family once owned.

warnings: none

a/n: CUTE!

Since the very beginning of time you’ve always loved baking. Baking was your one true joy, your one true love. Ever since you could remember it was always you in the kitchen. The first thing you held was a spatula, the first thing you said was cake. There was something so amazing and fascinating about being able to whip up baked goods. You simply loved the satisfaction it gave you whenever the delicious treat was finished. Whether it be a cake or a pastry. You grew up surrounded by sweet treats and the scent of freshly baked goods in the air. 

Both your parents co-owned a bakery and it was their pride and joy. You were often behind the counter helping to whip things up and it couldn’t have made you happier. The customers always commented on how one day you would be running the bakery, stepping into the shoes of your parents.

As you grew older you started to look at baking in a more professional way. You wanted what your parents had and you were going to achieve it. You went to culinary school, became an apprentice for bakers all around the world. Yet now it all seems to have failed as you find yourself back in the small little town you grew up in, living with your parents. 

You were dragged away from your job to help your mother move into her new house. Ever since your father died, she had sold the bakery and it was just you and her. Being the great daughter you were you decided to assist her with whatever she needed but it seemed in vain considering how your mum was adamant she could do things on her own, a trait you inherited. 

So now you were left to wonder about the small town and how it had grown while you were away. Most things had stayed the same and by most things you meant that the same old, dusty shops that had been there years prior. It was the same town you left six years ago. The nostalgia hit you like a tidal wave and suddenly you were experiencing memories you had thought you had forgotten. 

You hadn’t been back in so long and now, being back, it was overwhelming. The only new thing was the bakery that had once been your parents was now taken over by a new owner. It had been renamed and completely remodelled. It now bore light pastel blue walls and a bright red door that only seemed to draw you in. Curiously, you made your way towards the new bakery. Your mother hadn’t mentioned any of this to you and you were curious as to why. 

As soon as you opened the door the smell of baked bread and frosted cupcakes hit you. The interior was the same as when your parents had owned it. The same beige chairs and wooden tables. The same cream walls that had beautiful flowers painted onto them. The outside had changed but not the inside. You spied the spectacular crafted pastries. The tarts that looked unreal and the cakes that were frosted perfectly. There were name cards indicating what was in each item and you saw how they were handwritten, a chicken like scrawl but still legible - you recognised that from somewhere. A deep voice cut through your thoughts. 

“Hi, how can I help you?” 

Your eyes darted up to meet with a familiar face. 

James Potter. 

You’d recognise him anywhere but he looked so different. Was this the same James Potter that would squeak and run to hide whenever he saw you approaching? James’ cheeks went bright red once he registered it was you. Yep, it definitely was. 

You bit back a smile at the reaction. James was the boy next door and he never failed to make your day brighter when you were younger. The two of you knew each other but you weren’t ever close as friends. You’d always wanted to get to know him but he’d run away or find an excuse to not talk to you. Your friends had always said it was because of the raging crush he had on you - which was true. 

“Hi James.” You waved your hand and gave him a beaming smile. “Finally decided to visit and decided to pop in, you’ve got a nice place here.” You never remembered James being into baking and yet here he was. “When’d you get into baking?”

“Um, a while ago, I can’t exactly remember. After your mum sold the bakery it was just an empty shop until I bought it. I’m surprised she didn’t tell you.” He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “It’s just something small I run, nothing like you of course.”

You were pretty sure everyone in town knew about how you had upped and left to the big city to pursue your dreams. They obviously knew that you had made it since your mum was one for gossip. There were a lot of things different in the city than in the town you grew up in and honestly the first few months you cried yourself to sleep but now you were happy - not really though. You thought you would have at least opened your own bakery by now but you’re still working in a tacky restaurant. Your dreams had halted. 

James cleared his throat and gestured to the array of treats that were laid out. “So what would you like?” 

Carefully, you eyed each one. They all looked so delicious. It was so hard to pick. You read each label with care and saw how much detail was provided. You could tell how much love was poured into it and for some odd reason it made your heart swell. You’ve always been indecisive so choosing something to have was hard. 

“Just give me your favourite, whatever you like I’m sure I will.” You smiled at him and rummaged through your bag to take out your card. You didn't notice the way James’ cheeks lit up fire truck red again and how he was staring at you like you were the light of his life.

James caught himself staring and quickly muttered okay and made sure to grab his favourite strawberries and cream tart for you. He charged your card and packaged your order. He could feel your eyes as they watched his every movement and he couldn't help but burn bright pink. He’d had a crush on you since the first moment he had laid eyes on you and right now, seeing you after so many years, it made his heart speed up with joy. He’d never tell you but he had started baking because of you. He missed you so much when you had gone away. 

You took your order gratefully, thank James one last time before heading out and back home. You peeked into the box to see a beautifully baked tart and it made your mouth water. The smell wafted to your nose and the sweetness comforted you. When you had tasted it it was even better. The flavours exploded in your mouth and you savoured the sugary taste that was left on your tongue. Everything about it made you happy. There was some unknown love that had been dedicated towards this and it made your stomach and taste buds so ecstatic. This was definitely more delicious than anything you had tasted before. 

You were definitely going back.

[three--rings]

Most people don't have any understanding of what has been lost in Lahaina Town. Not just lives and property, but an entire town.

Most people hear "a city/town in Hawaii" and they picture probably resorts. And there are plenty of resorts nearby. But those are all fine.

Lahaina was an old whaling town dating back to the original colonization by white settlers. Before white people arrived, it was the capital of the island, where the high chief ruled, including Kamehameha the Great. The buildings are old, wooden, and crowded together. Obviously that was a problem in the face of the insanely fast wildfire.

But these weren't mansions, Mc or otherwise. It was a tourist town, a destination for cute, spendy shopping and dining, full of art galleries. (OMG THE GALLERIES. There was so much ART lost. There was original Dr. Seuss art in one gallery when I was there in January. That's gone now. Etc.)

But the people who lived and worked in Lahaina were mostly working class, working retail and restaurant jobs, living in old apartments and small houses. Lots of elderly, lots of non-white in a wide range of ethnicities, old hippies who have been there since the 60s and 70s. Yeah they were probably a little better off than people who drive in from other places to work in West Maui, at least because their property was high value, if they owned. But they lived without A/C, hung their laundry on lines, biked to work, called in sick to go surfing when the waves were up. There was a Chinese cultural center and a Buddhist temple, two different structures, if that tells you anything. Multiple museums housing historic items and cultural centers.

And the town will be rebuilt, in some form, I imagine. Or re-developed, more likely. People who are now homeless, who can't afford to rebuild or pay for two residences while the recovery happens will be bought out by deep pocketed developers. If they rebuild Lahaina Town I'm afraid it will be Lahaina Town tm by Disney.

Another fake paradise for tourists with lava rock from the Big Island. Another bit of Hawaii swallowed by capitalism and climate change.

I'm not painting everything about Lahaina as it was as perfect. Front Street was an often gaudy display of brand names and hucksters out to shovel in the tourist dollars. And of course the politics of Hawaii are incredibly complex and fraught in so many ways. I'm just a mainlander haole. I will never live on the islands, despite my family there constantly asking me to move. But I've spent more time there than anywhere I haven't lived, almost all of that time in West Maui.

My mom works in a building that is not there anymore. She just described that job to me as "the last job she'll ever have" as she's 79 and very happy with working two days a week selling t-shirts to cruise ship people. My brother has worked in a gallery on front street for the last ten years.

I don't know. A city of almost 15,000 permanent residents is just gone. 50 or so are confirmed dead, in some horrific circumstances from what I hear.

My mom says people are just walking around with thousand-yard-stares, aimless, clutching cell phones trying to get signal (there isn't any, but you can get lucky and get a call through. Some texts are going in but not out.)

So I don't know folks. Keep those people in your thoughts. If you can donate, I think this may be a good place because it's going to lots of local orgs on the ground: https://www.hawaiicommunityfoundation.org/maui-strong

I keep thinking of new sad things.

Anyway I'm going to leave you with a picture I took while strolling down Front Street one evening.

[braxlrose]

Hello! I really like your writing and I was wondering if I could request a bill x reader? It's where reader had a very rough childhood, with parents and stuff so they dont have a really good picture of love and gets confused about little nice things Bill does for them, like comforting and just being a good boyfriend, and can sometimes be like emotionally unavailable? But they really try with Bill and, yeah! Lmao, you don't have to do this and feel free to ignore!

omggg you're literally one of my favorite writers and I love this request because I really like writing angst bc there's so much emotion so ty <3

Also this is not proof read

cw: mentions of abuse (physical and verbal), angst, tell me if I missed anything pls!

Growing up was hard for you. Your father was barely ever around and when he was, he was completely hammered. You tried to stay away from him when he was like that, but it was hard considering you lived in the same house and he was always getting fired from jobs. Whenever you angered him, he'd take off his belt and beat you until you were sobbing. Then would pass out on the couch and act like nothing was wrong when he woke up.

On the other hand, your mother just never seemed to be happy with you. Always nit-picking on everything you did, the way you looked, the way you did your hair, your style, the way you talked, you were either too skinny or too fat; you just couldn't do anything right in her eyes.

You always tried your best to make them happy, just having the smallest glimmer of hope that they'd be proud of you for something. All your hard work at school or everything you did for your community. All the diets you went on for your mother. Cleaning up after your father. There was just nothing you could do.

You didn't understand why they were like this. Why did they have a child in the first place if all you did was "ruin their lives". You didn't understand love at all. Your mother said that she only does this because she cares about you, but if she cared wouldn't she want you to be yourself? No, of course not. You're either like her, or nothing. And that was that.

***

Then you moved to Magdeburg, Germany. Your mother was sick of her old apartment and your father was banned from all the alcohol stores in your town, so you had to move. Again. This wasn't the first time. You've moved 4 times in the past year because of your parents, you haven't lived anywhere long enough to make any friends.

You had moved into a small village and your mother was making you go over to the neighbour's for dinner. Your father was passed out somewhere so it was just you and her. She put your hair in a high ponytail and added "cute little pink bows". She always pulled too hard on your hair when she did it. You weren't allowed to leave the house unless you put on the pink, frilly dress she got you. You had to be "perfect" and "lady-like" or else no one would like you.

You slipped on your shoes and got pushed out the door by your mother. She had also plastered your face in makeup. Mascara, eyeshadow, lipgloss, all of that. You were fifteen years old for God sakes, why did she care so much?!

"You better not make me look bad in front of our new neighbour's, got it? I don't need your running your mouth like always." You nodded your head as she smacked the back of it, making you flinch before knocking on the door. You heard footsteps coming quickly to the door before a blonde woman opened up. A smile crept onto her face as she saw us.

(Its changing from third person to first person now!)

"Oh come in! Come in!" She said to us with a big smile on her face, ushering us in. My mother pushed me into the house, with a smile. The woman in front of us leaned down and waved, "Hi! You must be y/n! It's so nice to meet you!" I froze. What was I supposed to say? What if she got mad at my tone? What if I said something wrong? What if- I looked up as my mother nudged me on the arm, glaring into my eyes. don't be rude. she didn't even have to say anything for me to understand.

"Nice to meet you too!" I said to her, trying to smile but it just ended looking uncomfortable and awkward. She stood back up to her normal height and turned around, waving us towards the living room.

"Boys! Come down here to meet our new neighbours!" The woman shouted up the stairs as me and my mother sat down on the couch. She swatted my arm again.

"Stand up straight. Your going to make me look like a bad mother!" She whispered to me, giving me that icy cold glare she can never seem to get rid of whenever she looks at me.

Just then, two boys came stumbling down the stairs. They were obviously twins but looked very different from eachother. I turned my body back around when I heard then coming into the living room. I straightened out my back and looked at them with wide eyes.

"Woah, a girl." The mophead whispered. Tch, mophead. That's what he looked like. His dreads were all over the place.

"This is Mrs. y/l/n and y/n. They moved here today. Why don't you boys show y/n around the house?" They both nodded and smiled at me. This is where it all began. My friendship with Tom and Bill Kaulitz. It's been about 4 months since then and we all became good friends really quickly.

***

Me and Bill were walking through the park while tom was out doing God-knows-what. It was December already, so it had gotten really cold. We walked on some trails before Bill stopped us.

"What are you doing?" I asked, as he bent down on his feet.

"Tying your boots. You're gonna trip on them." My eyes widened as he leaned down. I'm just a fucking idiot I didn't even notice my shoelaces were untied. Who the fuck doesn't know that? Why didn't I realize? Am I actually that stupid? I could hear my mother's voice pounding in my head.

"Oh no! You don't have to do that, it's fine really! I'm just stupid, it's f-" he covered my mouth as he got it.

"Relax, I'm already done and I don't mind. Wouldn't want my favorite neighbour to fall face first into snow." He laughed and kept walking. Why'd he do that? He should've just told me to do it on my own, right? I don't need anybody to do anything for me. He should've just left it alone! What the fuck is wrong with hi-

"Hey are you thirsty?" What? What was he saying? I looked over at him when he stopped. We were back in town now, I hadn't even noticed.

"Hello?" He waved his hand in front of my face.

"Uhm..what?" I asked with a blank expression on my face. What was he saying? Why was he even asking me instead of just telling me? Isn't that easier?

"I said are you thirsty? There's a place just down the road that sells the best hot chocolate, you'll love it!" He said, grabbing my hand to bring me down the road. He wanted to get me hot chocolate?

"I don't have any money, Bill." He looked back at me and laughed.

"I'm buying, dummy. Why would I offer you something and then make you buy it? I'm not that awful." He joked, keeping my hand firmly in his. What. He wants to buy me something?

"You don't need to do that bill. I don't want to be a burden-" I sputtered out, not wanting him to do something he'd regret before he interrupted me.

"Burden?! You?" He stopped walking again and pulled me closer. Our faces were only a couple inches apart now and my hands were in his. "Y/n, you're my girlfriend. If I wanna buy my girlfriend a hot chocolate I'm gonna buy my girlfriend a hot chocolate, 'kay?" I was stunned. I don't understand why he's like this. He's too nice, people are gonna take advantage of that. Nevertheless, I nodded and walked down to where they were selling hot chocolate. Bill made sure to put extra marshmallows on mine. Why was he treating me like this?

We arrived back at his house and he pulled me down onto his bed with him.

"Jesus christ! Your hands are freezing, why didn't you say something." My hands? I guess they're cold. I hadn't noticed. Maybe they had gone numb half way through and that's why. Why did Bill care, they'd warm back up with time.

"It's no big deal Bill, I'll survive.." his eyes went wide like I had two heads.

"Are you insane?! No way!" He grabbed my hands and pulled me closer to him. He rubbed his hands onto mine and wrapped mine tightly in his. "Can't have your fingers falling off. I need someone's hand to hold." I smiled at me and wrapped the blanket around me. I laid my head down on his pillow and closed my eyes. My life wasn't supposed to be like this. I wasn't supposed to have a perfect boyfriend who gets me hot chocolate or warms up my hands for me. I don't deserve this. You don't deserve this. She was back again. She's always there. My mother sitting in the back of my head like there's a throne waiting there for her. Why were her words stuck in me like glue. I'm sick of her constantly belittling me like I'm nothing. But I am. I am nothing. Nothing at all. Just a useless soul that needed to fill an empty body and nothing mor-

"Y/n! Wake up! Are you okay?" Huh..? What was happening? I turned my head and looked outside. It was pitch black out. Had I fallen asleep? I turned back to bill and he looked like he was on the verge of tears. He had shaken me awake from my slumber. "Are. You. Okay?" He asked again, "you were mumbling and crying in your sleep. Did you have a bad dream?" I was crying? My finger tips reached up towards my cheeks. They were wet. I guess I was crying.

"I'm fine, bill. It was nothing." I mumbled and laid back down. His mouth was slightly agape as he crawled closer to me and engulfed me into a hug. He laid kisses all over my face. Why? Why does he care?

"You're not fine, and it's okay to be not fine! Just tell me what's wrong and let me help you!" He said to me as both of his hands caressed my cheeks. Help..me? Like I'm some charity case that needs fixing? I didn't need to be fixed. Yeah maybe I'm not perfect to my mother and maybe I have some fucked up issues but I don't need to be fixed. What the fuck was his problem?! Doesn't he understand I'm perfectly fucking fine!

"I said, I'm fine!" I shouted at him, shoving bill away from me and pushing myself off the bed. I'm perfectly fine and I don't need him telling me what's wrong with me. His head hit the wall by his bed and I could hear a crack. I broke his wall. I don't care. That's his fault. He should've backed off.

I heard him calling out my name along with a couple cries in between. I pulled on my shoes and stormed out the door. I don't need him or anybody or anything! I don't need him treating me like I'm some child who can't control her emotions!

That was 2 weeks ago. I hadn't spoken or even looked at him in two weeks. What was wrong with me? I hurt the only boy who's ever loved me. He probably hates me now. I'm the worst girlfriend in the entire world. Im the stupidest person. You're the most dumb, ugly, disgusting daughter who has ever been seen on this earth.

she's back.

I'm fucked up in the head and I don't know how to fix it. I want to blame my mother and father but it's not their fault, right? They care about me. It's my fault I'm like this. I don't know what I did to deserve this, but I have no one to blame but myself...right?

I was stuck sitting down in a chair while my mother poured goopy foundation onto my skin. We had to go to some classy town thing and I had to actually "look like a girl".

"Maybe if you were naturally beautiful I wouldn't have to waste my time doing this."

"Sorry mama..it's not my fault though..." She glared down at me and smacked the back of my head.

"You're lucky you have foundation on or I would've smacked the shit out of this disgusting face." She gritted between her teeth. Her words were like an awful, greasy poison dripping from her tongue. I hadn't done anything and some how I had made her mad again.

She shoved me into a long, cream colored dress and turned on the ignition. I leaned my head against the side of the door as we drove. Why couldn't I just be the normal, beautiful daughter my mother wanted? If there was a God, he had some serious explaining to do.

"Stop slouching! You think I want a daughter with bad posture?! My god! Can't you do anything right?" The speech. I've heard it a million times since I learned how to talk. How I can't do anything right and I'm just some failure who should've been aborted fifteen years ago. How I ruined my mother's life and how she was going to be a star if it wasn't for me.

It was a long car ride but we finally got there. And the event was even worse. There were so many people and the music was way to loud. I felt like crying. My hands were shaking and I couldn't stop picking at my nails. Women kept coming up and taking to me with their children. Friends of my mothers. I could guess by their judging stares. I looked lady-like and had good posture and was smiling. Why was I being judged, what am I doing wrong again? Why can't I just be normal? A normal girl who doesn't fuck everything up. Doesn't make her parents hate her. Doesn't ruin her parents lives. Doesn't make people feel awkward. Doesn't hurt their boyfriends.

And that was my breaking point. Tears flooded down my cheeks and everybody was staring at me. I stumbled away into another room and sobbed on the floor. I couldn't breathe. My hands hurt from picking at my nails and my face hurt and my body hurt and my eyes were burning and my makeup was surely ruined.

Everything is. I always ruin everything. What the fuck is wrong with me?! The one person who truly cared about me...i..I haven't- I hiccups against the wall and bawled my eyes out. The one person who truly, actually cared about me...I haven't talked to him in two weeks. Then I caught my breath. I stood up and wobbled to the nearest window. I pulled myself out of it and stumbled outside. My whole body hurt so I probably ooked crazy. I could feel mascara was running down my cheeks as I walked through the town.

My arms were freezing cold and I still felt like everybody was watching me. Their beady and judgy eyes staring me down like I was about to go crazy. Well, I guess technically they were right. I just started sobbing in front of everybody so I probably did look insane. You looked insane! What the fuck is wrong with you?! Can't you just act like a girl for once!? That's what my mother said me to in the 3rd grade after a play we did..

I finally got back to my house and looked up to the neighbour's house. Bills house. The light was on in his bedroom. He was awake. I turned back to my door and took a deep breath. I had to say something to him. Right? I had to make him believe I wasn't some crazy person who would push everybody away. Maybe that's what I was though..

I knocked on the door but nobody answered, so I stepped into their house. It was completely dark as I stumbled up the stairs to bills room. I looked at all the happy family pictures they had. God they were so lucky. So lucky to have a perfect family. A father and mother who love them. Having a twin must be great, it's like having a bestfriend for life, right?

As I stepped up the stairs I heard the door open. Bill must've heard me coming up. When he slowly looked around the corner I saw his eyes widen at my awful state. I guess I should've cleaned myself up first, I look a mess. My dress was torn from crawling out the window and my makeup was obviously smeared. I bet my hair wasn't too pretty either.

"Holy shit, y/n?!" He came down the stairs quickly and grabbed my arms, helping me up the stairs, "what happened?! You look...awful."

He sat me down on his bed and I didn't know what to say. I just stared at him. This perfect guy who loves me. I tried to open my mouth and say something but nothing came out. I guess he could tell I wasn't sure what to say because he went to the bathroom and grabbed some wipes.

"Here.." he kneeled down and began to wipe my makeup off. Tears slipped past my waterline as he comforted me. He just sat there looking up at me with a pity smile on his face as he cleaned me up. He took of my hands in his other hand and held it. He really was perfect. He saw him grab some lotion off his desk and rub it around my face after he wiped everything off.

"Come on, why don't we get you into some comfortable clothes okay?" I nodded at him and toyed with my fingers as he picked out some clothes.

I was laying in his arms now. His fingers were combing though my hair as I laid on his chest. I wasn't sure why he was doing this. Any sane person would've just kicked me out, right? I held onto bill tighter whenever he kissed my head and my cheeks. I cuddled up closer to him and nuzzled into his neck.

"I love you, y/n.." bill whispered as I dosed off into my sleep, breathing in his comforting scent and letting tears fall on his skin because he was the only person who was able to make me feel at home.

OKAY THIS TOOK ME LIKE 2 HOURS AND IT ALMOST GOT DELETED BUT THANK GOD IT DIDNT, I HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS!!

the end felt kinda rushed but I hope it was still good

taglist: @hearts4kaulitz @burntb4bydoll @spelaelamela @bored0writer @fishinaband @billsleftnutt @dead-tapes @tokiiohot @bluepoptartwithsprinkles @saumspam

[desi2go]

Flowers from the prince (1)

part 2 of Flowers from the prince here

pairing: prince Seungmin x guard reader

warnings: fluff, forbidden romance

summary: After working as a soldier at the border, you were finally transferred to the palace. You should protect the prince from everything that could be a harm...

A new task. That's what your father told you. You would finally leave your current position and be transferred. And not just anywhere, no, you will be a guard at the palace.

Your father was the head of the king's guards. He was in charge of all the soldiers and guard in the entire country. He himself selects the soldiers who will protect the royal family, whether as castle guards or as their personal lifeguards. Since you were young, you wanted to make your father proud and be one of the best soldiers.

You were all the more happier when the message was brought to you that you will be the personal lifeguard of the prince now.

When you arrived at the castle, your father greeted you. Since your departure two years ago, you didn't had the chance to meet him. He looked older than you had in mind, his job definitely taking a toll on him.

He lead you to the throne hall where you would meet the royal family. Before you entered, you took a deep breath. Your father opened the door, letting you in the big hall. The king and the queen sat on their throne, standing up when you arrived in front of them.

"Miss Y/n. Welcome in the palace" the queen said with a sincere smile. You bowed respectfully.

"I'm honoured, your grace"

"Your father spoke very highly of you. And your reports were excellent so that I can say that you are particularly suitable for this task" the king added.

"Thank you, your grace" you answered, clearly content that they thought so high of you. Another person entered the hall through the big wooden doors. You slightly turned to get a better look of the person. You knew him. How could you not? He was the prince. The prince you should protect from now on.

"Miss y/n. This is my son. You'll be his personal lifeguard from now on. I expect you to be very sharp-eyed."

"Of course, your grace." You turned to prince Seungmin and bowed.

"Nice to meet you, prince" you added but you didn't even get a reply. He just rolled his eyes annoyed. He definitely hated the thought of a new lifeguard but you couldn't care less. Now, it was your job and you wouldn't disappoint the royal family.

You followed the prince like a shadow, always ten metres behind him. He was clearly distressed that you would accompany him from now on nearly 24/7. As well as he could, he tried to ignore you.

He sighed and turned to you abruptly.

"Why don't you stop following me like a dog? I'm capable of defending myself" he snarled, a hard look on his face.

"Well, as long as the king and the queen don't tell me otherwise, I'll be doing my job, your grace" you said in an extra friendly tone.

He turned around again and you followed him into his study room. It was a big room filled with books, a huge wooden desk where all sorts of papers were spread out, and two armchairs that stood in front of the window.

You stopped next to the door so that you had the entrance and the window in view. You stood there over two hours, watching the prince work while you crossed the arms behind your back and observed the environment. Usually, a lifeguard wouldn't follow a person everywhere but your father had told you that Seungmin liked to run away into the forest or into the town right behind the castle.

And as a member of the royal family that could be extremely dangerous. Most of the people liked the royals but as always, there was a small amount that was up to no good and would be content to catch the prince so easily. They could use him as a leverage.

When the night came, another lifeguard took over so that you could catch some sleep. You stepped into your little room that from now on will be your bedroom. Exhausted, you slipped out of your armour and placed your sword onto the small dresser. The room was barely decorated. Not that you cared. You won't spend much time here, just sleeping before and after your shift. It didn't take much time before the sleep took over. Even though you mostly stayed on one place, you still were sharp-eyed and always observed your environment.

You started your next shift in the morning after a quick meal with some other soldiers, including your father. It was great to work together with him after years apart. But he wasn't just your father, no, he was the head of the guards and that's why he always expected the best, especially from you.

Prince Seungmin was still in his chamber but shortly after your arrival, he came out, wearing plain black trousers and a black shirt with a plain armour.

"Good morning, your grace" you greeted him, getting in line behind him. He just grumbled a response. He'll see, you'll definitely crack his grumpy behaviour even if it took some time.

You rested one hand on your sword as you both walked out of the palace to the training ground where most of the castle soldiers trained. At this time, just some persons were practicing. The prince fetched a trainings sword out of the old armoury. He stopped in front of you and scrutinised you with a mocking smile.

"Do you really think you have what it takes to protect me?"

You, who was already used to his sharp tongue, bowed your head respectfully.

"Yes, your highness. I have proven my skills many times" The prince laughed, a patronising sound that echoed across the square.

"Then let's see how good you really are. Do you dare to compete against me? Or are you afraid you might lose in front of the other soldiers?"

You took a step forward, drew your sword and assumed a battle-ready stance. Your eyes sparkled with determination.

"I fear nothing, Your Highness. If you wish, I will fight you." Seungmin nodded and raised his sword. The other soldiers stepped back to make way.

"Very well. Show me what you can do." The fight began with an aggressive attack from the prince. His movements were powerful, but also impetuous. You, on the other hand, remained calm and focussed, skilfully dodging his blows and counterattacking with precision, just like you had learned over a million times in your training.

The spectators' respect for you grew with every blow you fended off since they have never seen you fight before. The prince became increasingly frustrated and stepped up his attacks, but you remained unimpressed and after several minutes of intense fighting, you managed to disarm the prince.

His sword flew out of his hand and landed on the ground with a loud clang. You pointed the tip of your sword at his chest, but stopped before you could hurt him.

"It seems you have lost, Your Highness," you said calmly, a smirk decorating your face. That's what he deserves after underestimating you. The prince, breathing heavily and visibly surprised, stared at the sword pointed at him.

"You had a lucky strike. That's all" he defended, grabbing his sword again from the ground. You retracted your own and placed it back into the scabbard safely.

"Of course, if you say so" you responded with a teasing smirk. You fought again and again. Every time, you were the one that quickly has gained the upper hand and won. He definitely wasn't a beginner and he knew how to wield a sword but he didn't has a chance against someone with lots of experience.

It was cute how frustrated and angry he got when his strike didn't succeed. After three more rounds, he was apparently finished with training. With a small smirk, you followed him back into the castle. You already liked your new job here, especially when you could get the prince on the edge like that.

♚✪♔

When the prince ate lunch, you quickly grabbed something for yourself in the kitchen and accompanied your father with some other soldiers. All in all, it was entertaining to listen to some strange stories that happend here, especially when the prince and the princess were involved. You heard that Seungmin's older sister and he were free spirits and kept all the staffs on their toes. After that little break, you continued with your shift that went good and without much trouble. Seungmin worked for a long time in his study room.

The next morning continued like this until the early afternoon. After being stuck in the study room for the first half day, he wanted to bath. That's why you stood outside, waiting that the prince was finished. You heard a small crack and shuffling that sounded strange. You knew what he was doing, your father has told you how he could leave the palace. And apparently, he chose the way through the window this time.

You smirked and left your place, running through the hallways, using some old passages. Fortunately, your father gave you the structure of the castle with all the secret paths and shortcuts. When he climbed out of the window, he just had one way to go. Due to the shortcuts, you will be there before him.

While the prince hurried through the forest, you skilfully took shortcuts. You crept through hidden paths and shadowy nooks and crannies, your footsteps as silent as a cat. You knew where he was going, and you were determined to intercept him there. Just before the prince reached the city limits, you stepped out of the shadows. He stopped abruptly, his eyes widening in surprise. You stood in front of him, a big teasing smirk on your lips.

"Do you really think you can trick me, your grace?" You said calmly, leaving the prince speechless. Never before had anyone caught him so close to the city.

"How did you do that?" he asked, his voice betraying a mixture of anger and admiration.

"I know your ways, Prince," she replied. "And I'm here to make sure you stay safe. By the way, your excursions really aren't that difficult to see through. Perhaps you should try a little harder next time"

The prince, proud and confident as he was, couldn't hide his fascination. No one had ever put him in his place like this before. Despite his frustration, he felt a deep respect for the woman who had outwitted him.

"You're really good," he admitted, "but that doesn't mean I won't try again." You just nodded and smiled.

"Oh, I expect you to. I'm having far too much fun catching you. I'll always be here to catch you." The prince felt a pang of annoyance, but also deep respect for the woman who had outwitted him.

"We'll see," he said, "maybe I'll be quicker next time."

"Maybe," you replied, shrugging your shoulders. "But I'll always be here to stay one step ahead of you."

He rolled his eyes and let you take him back to the castle. You knew that this was definitely not the last time, you'll need to catch him.

And you were right, he tried it the next time two days later. Just like last time, you stopped him with a smirk, leaning against a tree and one hand playing with your sword. He huffed in annoyance.

"Why do you want to go there so bad?" You asked him.

"None of your business" he snarled.

You laughed. "It is. I'm the one who will catch you every time after all."

You push yourself off the tree. Instead of going back to the castle, you followed the way to the town.

"What are you doing? The castle is this way!" He exclaimed, clearly confused.

You turned your head and smiled.

"Since you want to go to the town so bad, I'm accompanying you. This way I can defend you" His confused expressions changed to surprise and you could see appreciation in his eyes.

"Now come. We don't have so long before the castle will notice our absence" you nudged him forward while signalling with a nod to the town. He broke out of his rigidity and followed you quickly.

After some time, you broke the silence.

"So, mind telling me what you want to do there, your grace? Meeting a mistress perhaps?" You questioned amused.

"I don't have a mistress. I guess I just like the noise and the lively hustle and bustle where I could hide myself from my duties as a prince" he explained calmly. His black hair shimmered silver in the sun and his eyes turned into a rich chocolate brown that seem to be endless.

"I understand that." you answered, finally arriving at the town. "So, where do you want to go?" You added. He lead you through the streets. The more you moved forward to the city centre, the bigger were the mass of people.

You knew this town very well. After your mother got pregnant with you, your dad accepted his position in the castle, forcing your parents to move here. They bought a small house on the outer ring of the city so that he could easily go to the castle within 15 minutes. You went to school here and after your mother got ill, it was your job to clean the house and to buy errands from the market. You knew this route.

Seungmin wanted to go to the huge market in the centre of the city. You were still some hundred metres away and yet, you could hear the chattering and shoutings. You turned right and you stood directly in front of the market.

It was acolourful spectacle of life, colours and sounds. The smell of fresh bread and roasted meat fills the air, while the laughter of children and the hustle and bustle of traders fills the square. The market begins with a row of wooden benches and stalls standing close together. Trader from near and far offer their wares, their voices overlapping in an effort to attract the attention of the people passing by.

One stall is piled high with shiny apples and juicy pears, another is hung with sausages and hams glistening in the sun, and a few steps further on the smell of exotic spices attracts people. A trader in a colourful robe spreads out a selection of rare herbs and spices from distant lands, his wares as precious as gold. Next to him, a cloth merchant has spread out his fine fabrics, shining in all the colours of the rainbow and bringing a longing sparkle to the eyes of the women and girls, while in one corner an old storyteller sits on a wooden barrel, surrounded by a group of curious children. Once, you sat there too and listened to him.With sweeping gestures and a deep, melodic voice, he tells stories of brave knights and fire-breathing dragons.

Not far away, a musician plays his lute and a young boy beats a drum while people clap their hands to the beat and some even begin to dance. A blacksmith demonstrates the art of swordsmithing, sparks flying as he moulds red-hot iron. A few steps further on, a ropemaker demonstrates his skills by spinning sturdy ropes and fine cables. Here and there, a travelling merchant offers his remedies, miracle elixirs and tinctures that are supposed to help against every conceivable ailment.

You two wandered through the place side by side. While Seungmin eyed the wares, you observed the environment precisely. It was a risk to go here with him. In the hustle and bustle, attacker could easily come close and try to harm him. Your hand was placed on your sword, a small warning that you would defend him.

He stopped in front of a stall with beautiful flowers in all sizes and colours. While you turned around to have everything in your sight, he spoke with the old lady. You know her, she already sold her flowers when you were young. You remember that your father bought your mother and you a bunch of flowers, lilies to be exact. The old lady explained to you back then that they stand for devotion and admiration.

You flinched when something touched your ear, turning slightly. Seungmin chuckled.

"Easy, tiger. It's just me" he pushed something behind your ear. When he was finished, you touched the object. It was a flower and you wanted to take it in your hand but Seungmin grabbed your hand and your gaze shot to him.

"leave it like this. It suits you"

A small blush crept up your face and you felt your heart beating faster. You couldn't control the small smile that decorated your lips.

"Thank you. I guess then I have to leave it there"

"Indeed." He just answered and walked to the next stall, completely ignoring your red face from the unexpected gesture.

[risingchaos]

OH DEAR GOD THAT’S A CHILD

—

Rating: Teen & Up Archive

Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types, Robin (Comics), DCU, DCU (Comics)

Characters: Jim Gordon (DCU), Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson

Additional Tags: Bruce Wayne is Batman, Dick Grayson is Robin, Jim Gordon is So Done, Protective Jim Gordon (DCU), Dick Grayson Being a Little Shit, But also, Dick Grayson is a Ray of Sunshine, Swearing, POV Jim Gordon (DCU), POV Third Person Limited

Language: English

Words: 1,001

Chapters: 1/1

Summary: Batman showing up randomly with a child is going to make Jim go grey earlier than any of these villains will.

AKA Jim Gordon’s first meeting with Robin.

—

The fic on AO3 because for some reason it won’t link properly

—

“Goddamn Batman and his stupid fucking lantern like it’s the 1940’s.” Jim grumbled as he pressed the on switch, wrapping his coat around him tighter after pulling a cigarette from his carton and a lighter from his pocket. Barbara was really pushing for him to quit it, and honestly he should unless he wants to die of a heart attack before fifty, but the job was stressful and a cigarette gave him some much needed relief. Sue him. There’s worse vices, especially in this town.

The wind this high up cut straight to the bone, and he could already feel the chill that meant rain. If he was lucky, the vigilante would show up before the first drops. If he was unlucky, it wouldn’t rain at all, and the chill just meant a fog from the docks was rolling in. Fog always made shit complicated. More car crashes, roads get slick, people did stupid crimes with a nature made cover, and you had to deal with it all not being able to see two feet in front of your nose. And it was hell with his glasses.

He lit the cigarette and sighed out the smoke, resigning to wait anywhere between ten seconds and fifteen minutes until the oversized bat got his ass up here. Seriously, a signal? This was the modern century, burner phones exist. Radios. Walkie-talkies. Hell, with all the tech Batman had, he could probably make some wildly complicated one way transmission system. He didn’t need to put a neon sign up to the city to make sure they understood the GPD was corrupt and incompetent. He preferred if they figured that out themselves, thank you very much.

As he was musing on the impracticalities of the light (seriously, it could be tampered with so easily and there’s no backup Mr. Plans for Everything), that’s when he heard that awful gruff voice behind him.

“Captain.”

Jim definitely did not jump but he did sigh, turning around and ready to give him some crap about not being all creepy, when every single thing he had thought of in the last six minutes of waiting died in his throat as he recognized there was another presence.

A smaller presence.

A much, much smaller presence.

A child.

Batman had a goddamn child with him.

Without long sleeves, and he had on pixie boots, and what looked an awful lot like.. shorts?

“Batman.” Jim could barely conceal the pure bafflement and small rage boiling inside. “Who is that?”

Batman just stared for a moment before gesturing slightly to the boy. “This is Robin. My partner.”

Robin grinned, and waved, and stood up from his crouched position on the fucking edge of the rooftop. Every single paternal bone in Jim’s body screamed at him to pull him away from there, how was Batman okay with that??

“Robin.” He repeated back, and the boy nodded happily. “Pants. Why don’t- why are you wearing shorts? It’s 40 degrees out.”

Well, it was quickly indicated that was the wrong thing to say with the way Robin instantly frowned, his little brows furrowing into what Jim would call a pout. Jesus Christ.

“I’m wearing tights, and it’s not shorts, it’s a leotard! And why does everyone want me to wear pants? They are no fun, and they get in the way of everything! Have you ever tried to do a round off in pants, sir? There’s a reason acrobats don’t wear jeans!” And, as if to prove his point, Robin dove forward onto the rooftop, rolled, and sprung up in a handstand that he held with shocking stability. “See?”

Jim’s eyes flicked up to Batman, who, for just a moment, looked incredibly resigned by the show of acrobatics as Robin came out of the handstand and followed it up with a standing flip (where the hell did Batman find this boy?) before returning to Batman’s side. A blink and you’ll miss it moment before his normal, impassive expression returned.

“Robin.” There was a hint of something Jim couldn’t place in the tone, but instead of cowering like most people, Robin simply beamed again.

“It’s good to finally meet you, Captain. I’ve heard a lot about you. All good things, all good things!” He held up his hands placatingly before clasping them and rocking on his heels. “Now, what’s the sitch? We haven’t got all night, you know.” He could tell Robin winked under that godforsaken domino mask, and by George, was that an honest to God sigh from Batman?

Instead of debating the ethics of Robin running around with, apparently, tights and a leotard any longer, Jim pushed up his glasses with his free hand, rubbed at his eyes for a moment with his fingers, and dropped his shoulders with a heavy breath.

“So, we’ve heard rumblings of Two-Face planning an acid attack..”

________

After three minutes of explaining all he had heard, and letting his poor cigarette go out, he wasn’t going to smoke around what was very clearly a young child, Batman and Robin turned to leave, but Jim wasn’t quite done.

“Batman.” That got the figure to pause. “A word.”

Probably against every bone in the weirdo’s body, Batman turned, and walked closer to Jim. He didn’t say anything, just stared, but he wasn’t going to lose nerve now.

“A single fucking thing happens to that boy, Batman,” his voice was lower, downright angry, “and I’ll show you how good and goddamn ruthless a detective I can be. Got it?”

Batman, of course, didn’t back down, but he did nod once, slow and purposeful. “Captain.”

Then, with a swish of his ridiculous cape, Batman went off the side of the building to follow Robin to wherever the hell they were off to.

Jim let out a long half sigh, half groan, and went to relight his cigarette when a single raindrop hit the end, dampening the paper.

That was enough to get him to go inside and deal with all of this another day.

[bigasswritingmagnet]

Blood Will Out - Ch 7: The Spark

Summary: When Agatha Sannikova learns she is, in fact, Agatha Heterodyne, she inadvertently kicks off a series of events that reopens old wounds, drags secrets into the light, and brings war to the doorstep of the all but defenseless Mechanicsburg. Saturnus struggles to crush his enemies with a town almost as broken as his body; Agatha, determined to undo the chaos she's unleashed, plunges into the depths of Castle Heterodyne.

Raised by a literal saint and the devil incarnate, Agatha - with an unleashed mind, a burning spark, and a band of very unexpected allies - will fight to do the unthinkable: be a good Heterodyne and a good person.

< Prev chapter | A03 link | Next Chapter

“Agatha.”

Crystalline structures whirled around her, colors shining and spinning, gears unfolding like flower petals.

“Agatha.”

The music had come back into the world, thrumming in her heart and her blood. Something that had been just out of reach was now nestled in the palm of her hand, and she could do anything—

“Agatha.”

Agatha snorted awake, head popping up off of her arms. She looked around blearily – her glasses were all smeared – to see Saturnus’ amused smile. Her brow furrowed.

“What are you doing here?” she asked. She looked around again and, yes, she was still in her bedroom. “How did you get up the stairs?”

“You tell me,” he said cheerfully. “You’re the one who built it.”

Agatha sat up, took off her glasses, rubbed her eyes and shook her head hard, forcing herself to wake up fully. Scrubbing her glasses quickly on her shirt, she pushed them back onto her nose. 

She had fallen asleep at her desk because there was no room for her anywhere else. Her room was a catastrophe of clockwork and tools, scattered in drifts on her desk and bed and floor. Saturnus was sitting on the floor, propped up against her chest of drawers. His wheelchair was in front of him, tipped over on its side.

And it wasn’t a wheelchair anymore.

It had legs.

Eight spidery, bronze legs, sharp-tipped and each half as thick as Agatha’s forearm. Four on each side, connecting to the base of the chair on either side of a small glass dome that flickered with blue-white light. The dawn sunlight skated back and forth across the sturdy metal panels as the legs twitched, curling and uncurling.

“It was the funniest thing,” Saturnus said cheerfully. “There I am, fast asleep, when something hops onto my bed and starts jabbing me in the face. I open my eyes, and I see these little fellows driving the most interesting device.”

Agatha leaned over to see past the chair contraption, and her mouth fell open. A team of six pocket-watch clanks scurried around like ants, gathering up discarded scraps, laying out spools of wire beside Saturnus, hustling tools in and out of reach.

“You built my dingbots!” she gasped.

Saturnus burst out laughing.

“I didn’t build a damn thing!” he exclaimed. He gestured around himself. “I was just tidying up, to make sure it won’t dump me in the river if a wire comes loose. Not to say you didn’t do a good job. It’s marvelously well done for your first big project – and in your sleep, too!”

He wagged the screwdriver at her playfully.

“And you saying you don’t think you’re a proper Heterodyne.”

It had been almost a week since Agatha had worn the locket. Never had her mind felt so clear. It was as if she could finally open her eyes all the way. Is this what it could have been like, all her life? Without even the slightest twinge of pain, she could look at the chair legs and see places it could be improved.

Now that it was laid out before her as a real creation, she knew eight legs would not be nearly enough for the kind of stability she wanted it to have. It needed more, lots more, perhaps arranged in a circle. She wasn’t at all sure it would be able to manage a hill as steep as the one leading up to the castle – no, it was far too easy to imagine those pointed tips skidding on the paving stones…

Agatha met Saturnus’ eyes, and his smile slipped away. He reached up to her, and Agatha rose from her desk to sit beside him. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and kissed her forehead. 

“You think I should wear it, don’t you?” 

“I do,” he admitted. “I’ve spent the last week trying to find a way around it, and I can’t come up with anything that doesn’t risk attracting Klaus’ attention. And if we have Klaus’ attention, we have everyone else’s attention.” 

Agatha’s throat went tight. 

“But I don’t want to,” she whispered. “I don’t want to be an idiot again.”  

“I know,” he said, pulling her into a tight hug. “I know, I know. But never fear, my little hellion,” he said. “We’ll get through it. Heterodynes always do.” 

A gasp from the doorway jerked her back, and she looked up to see Teodora standing there, pale and open-mouthed. Agatha felt the anger and betrayal and resentment flare in her chest...but the hatred was not quite so white-hot now. 

“Look at this!” Saturnus exclaimed to his wife. “In her sleep! It walked me right up the stairs!”

Teodora said nothing, but her mouth closed. Her eyes flicked around the room, taking it all in.

“Don’t worry,” Saturnus said reassuringly. “I’ve got it all worked out. We’ll just tell people I did it.”

“I—” Agatha began. Teodora left the room without a word. Agatha flinched and curled in on herself. 

“She’s not mad at you,” Saturnus said reassuringly. “She’s afraid.” 

“I am not afraid,” Teodora said, striding back into the room. She had the locket in her hand, but she did not hold it out to Agatha. Instead, Teodora stepped carefully through the debris, tossed the locket onto the desk, picked up a discarded hammer, and brought it up over her head and down onto the locket as hard as she could. 

It shattered, the case stoving inwards to pierce through the delicate internal mechanisms, sending shards flying. 

No one spoke. Even the dingbots had gone still. The only sound in the room was Teodora’s heavy breathing and the zzt zzt of sparking, severed wires. 

“I,” she said, “have been dreaming of that for the last seven years.” She turned and offered the hammer to Agatha, smiling brightly. “Would you like a go? It’s very cathartic.” 

“What the hell are you doing?” Saturnus exclaimed. 

“The locket was to stop Agatha from breaking through,” Teodora said. Agatha tried to determine if there was some thread of mania in her cheerful tone, but couldn’t find anything but genuine pleasure. “Agatha has broken through. Taking it off hasn't done any harm. Therefore, the locket is no longer a viable option.”

“You don’t know that!” Saturnus said. “We don’t know that! For all we know it could have been designed to tamp the spark back down!” 

“Mm, shame there’s no way to find out now,” Teodora said breezily, tossing the hammer onto the desk. “You said yourself you’d need to fix the castle if she won’t wear the locket. You can get some of the local monsters to help you fend off the security features the castle has no control over—” 

“I said that before I knew she was going to break through!” Saturnus interrupted. “There is no hiding a Spark! We can say I built the chair, but how are we going to blame it on me when she starts building a death ray in chemistry class?”

Agatha frowned. “I wouldn’t have the necessary parts to build a death ray in the chemistry labs—”

“You know what I mean!”

“Agatha will be taking a little sabbatical after what happened.” 

“I am?”

“Of course. A little rest, and there’s always the workshop out back.” 

Agatha could see, despite himself, Saturnus was beginning to waver. 

“Well…” he said, rubbing his chin. “I suppose if we're careful there might not be too much harm in it…" 

Agatha hesitated. “I’m still mad,” she said to Teodora, whose smile turned sad.

“You have every right to be. I—”  

Someone began to bang on the front door, a loud and insistent pounding that intended, perhaps demanded, to be heard.

“Ah, that’ll be Herr Müller, I expect,” Saturnus said dryly. “He’ll probably want payment. These things were still coming in and out through the letter flap with supplies when I came up here.”

“What!” Agatha yelped, shooting to her feet. “I never told them to steal anything!” She recalled that she did not actually remember doing any of this, and amended, “I’m sure I wouldn’t do that.”

“If I had to guess,” Saturnus said with a grin, “you told them to go get you this and that, and did not specify from whence such items should be obtained.”

Agatha hid her face in her hands. “Oh…” she groaned.

“You’ll learn,” Saturnus said, cheerfully patting her on the knee. “Now!” he said, excitedly. “Watch this.”

Saturnus pulled the chair upright. The legs clattered and shifted as they reset themselves, then bent down low until the seat itself was almost touching the ground. Saturnus turned himself around so his back was to it. He gripped the arms of the chair and with a grunt, pushed himself up and back, into the seat.

Agatha could see now that the arms of the chair were much thicker than they had been before, no doubt to make room for the various mechanisms within. On the left side, a single dial marked up and down; on the right, what looked like the very top of a small bronze globe, deeply inset in the arm.

It was far too simple – it needed more settings, things that could be changed to adjust to different environments and obstacles. Sharper tips for ice in winter, more deliberate movements for navigating cobblestones...

Twisting the little dial, Saturnus brought the chair up off the ground. It stood a little taller than the wheelchair had, bringing his head level with Agatha’s shoulder.

“It works,” Agatha whispered.

“It does!” Saturnus said, beaming. Sliding his fingers over the inset globe, he guided the chair to circle Agatha, the pointed ends of the legs tapping against the wooden floor. No smoke, no sparks, no juddering, no exploding. The pistons were a little loud, and the movements could stand to be smoother, and there were so many ways it could be improved but...but it worked. It functioned.

Agatha felt dizzy, almost detached from her own body. She’d built something that worked! She’d had an idea and she’d built it and it did exactly what she wanted it to do. What about all the other ideas she’d had that hadn’t worked? All the clocks and clanks and—and the schoolwork, too! She would finally be able to show them, and she would! She’d show them all—!

The pounding on the door came again, louder. Teodora sighed and headed down the stairs.

“Oh dear. He does sound very upset.”  

“Heh. Can’t be worse than Barry’s breakthrough,” Saturnus said, following her.

“Lord, yes. It took days to put the cathedral’s clock back together.”

“We still haven’t found all the pieces. Wait, wait!” he said suddenly. “Go to the bottom of the stairs, both of you.”

Obediently, Agatha and Teodora did so, then turned back up to watch Saturnus, who brought the chair up to the very first step, and stopped.

“Are you sure it’s safe?” Agatha asked warily. They were long past the point where things normally went wrong, but from experience, Agatha knew the longer it took whatever she’d built to explode, the worse it would be.

“I got up here, didn’t I?”

Saturnus swiveled the chair to face right and began to descend the stairs sideways, crablike. The legs on the higher stairs bent low, the legs on the low stairs stretched higher, and Saturnus was barely off balance as the chair carried him carefully, though not particularly gracefully, to the ground floor. 

“It really does work,” Agatha breathed. Saturnus took Agatha’s face in his hands.

“You, my dear, are a gift. And a better present I could not ask for.”

Agatha’s heart swelled and her eyes burned. She’d helped. She loved him and she’d wanted to build him something and she had and it was wonderful.

“I—”

This time, the pounding at the door continued, unceasing, one long steady bam bam bam bam bam that made the door shudder on its hinges.

“I’m coming, Herr Müller!” Teodora called.

She had barely turned the latch and the doorknob before the door was shoved hard towards her, and Tarvek Sturmvoraus shoved his head and one arm through the gap in the door.

“Tarvek?”

“Agatha!” he cried. “We have to get you out of here!”

[garbinge]

Library Daycare (2)

Angel Reyes x OC Isabeth ‘Izzy’ Flores 30 Day Fic Challenge (14/30)

Word Count: 3k A/N: I feel like I say this for a majority of my fics but this post-canon world I've thought up for Angel and Maverick is my favorite, I think about it everyday, I just, want him to be happy even tho most of my ideas for this are angsty HAHA.

Warnings: All my fics are 18+ regardless of content. Light angst.

Mayans Taglist: @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics @narcolini @danzer8705 @keyweegirlie @kmc1989 Previous fic for reference.

Angel stepped into the library, Maverick in his arms and was staring at the bulletin board. His eyes were scanning over each flyer and business card that was pinned to it. The list of jobs that Angel felt capable of was slim. There were a lot of options, prep cook, lab assistant, front desk organizer, medical assistants, nurses, but none of those were things that Angel had any experience with. That’s when his eyes landed on the business card that was pinned to the flyer that said Farm Hand needed, the business card on top reading Rancho de Valle - Este. His free hand reached up to grab the information from the pin so he could get a closer look. 

Farm hand, operating and maintaining machinery, harvesting and planting crops, repairs, occasional livestock caring. Full time, housing on premise provided if desired, hourly pay, overtime opportunities, and medical insurance. 

“El Ranchitos.” A voice sounded behind him. 

He turned around immediately, a little startled by the voice while Maverick on the other hand cooed in excitement as he saw who was behind them. 

“Sorry I did not mean to scare you.” Izzy smiled at Angel and turned her gaze onto Maverick. Her hand quickly reached out to grab his foot. “Hi, you. I missed you.” Her voice was soft now, she didn’t want to scary anyone again. 

“You caught me deep in thought, that’s all.” Angel laughed as he adjusted Maverick in his arms. 

“Yes, El Ranchitos.” She repeated again pointing to the papers again. 

Angel looked down not seeing El Ranchitos anywhere on the forms and looked back at the woman he had brief conversations with over the last few months. “You’re familiar with them?” 

“De Valle’s are very well known in this town. They own all of El Ranchitos, de Valle Este is the one closest to the city that is a harvesting ranch, they have others in the city but they’re more like resorts, they had to adapt with the change of the world.” Izzy explained. “They’re good people, kind, understanding. I think de Valle Este is like 10 minutes from here by car.” 

“Thanks, yea I think I’m going to apply. Everything else is a bit out of my range.” Angel laughed awkwardly. “Just gotta figure out what I’m gonna do with him while I’m working, maybe I could hire someone to watch him if I take them up on this on premise housing.” He was thinking outloud now, but it was just a symptom of having no one above the age of 2 to talk with here. 

Izzy was leaning over in front of him now, reaching for something on the bulletin board. Her hand began searching around until she found what she was looking for and pulled it from the pin. “It isn’t a nanny, but we watch the kids all day, feed them, read to them, use the playground outside on good weather days, it’s a small group too.” 

“We?” Angel questioned his eyes moving from the library daycare flier to Izzy’s face.

“Okay, I, it’s my initiative. We did a trial run this summer with a handful of kids and it went pretty well. We have about 8 kids right now signed up for the school year, all local, have room for 10, I think Maverick would be a great addition.” Izzy grinned again, now looking at Maverick who giggled and brought his hands out to her in hope to be held by her. 

“How was I around like all summer and didn’t notice this?” Angel laughed and happily gave the child over to Izzy. 

These last few months he had gotten extremely comfortable with the woman and honestly safe with her, Angel as well. These last few months have consisted of Angel coming to most of the library events because not only did Maverick enjoy them but because they offered him peace around people which he didn’t have much of since leaving Santo Padre. There was a constant fear, a persistence to always look over his shoulder, double guess everyone he met, everyone who walked too close to him on the street, but at the library it was like that fear was nonexistent. He had made a friend in Izzy, which was exactly what he needed right now. 

“I have two other people that help out, it allows one of us to take off, or be more flexible around the library.” She answered as she bounced Maverick up and down in her arms. “They’re actually running daycare now, if you want to check it out.” Her eyes moved back to Angel as Maverick’s little hands picked up her I.D. that was draped around her neck with a lanyard. “No pressure.” She let out an awkward laugh. 

“No, yea.” Angel spoke up which earned him a confused look from the woman holding his child across from him. He smiled realizing how confusing his statement was. “I just meant we’d love to check it out.” 

Izzy nodded and brought them both to the children’s area of the library and opened up the decent size circular room that currently had a group of kids of a variety of ages drawing on tables. 

“Sticker drawing. Helps them with open ended exploration, we let the older kids come up with a story based on their drawings and the younger ones like it too.” She was placing Maverick down on the ground and he was quick to find himself at the small table grabbing a sheet of his own. 

“How big is the age range?” Angel wasn’t sure why he was asking questions, he knew this was the best place for Maverick if he was to get this job. 

“Right now 1 through 5. This group is a bit older because it’s the summer.” She put her hands over her chest as she watched over the kids. 

 Before Angel could answer there was a little girl who was about 4 walking up to Izzy holding out her sheet of paper towards her. 

“Wow, that’s beautiful.” The little girl was being brought up into her arms and instantly throwing her own around Izzy’s neck. 

“Well the kids sure love you.” Angel smiled. 

“I hope this one does.” Izzy rocked from side to side similarly to how she was with Maverick just minutes earlier, but this time she looked at the girl in her arms and kissed the side of her head. “This one’s mine.” 

Angel found himself at a loss of words at that statement. He didn’t expect it. It automatically made him think about his friendship with Izzy, this was something huge that she so easily went without mentioning. Then again, it wasn’t like she knew everything about his life, but she knew a lot about his current life, and this felt very much like her current life. Between not knowing about the daycare and now her child, he felt like he needed to take a major step back. 

“Are you okay?” She interrupted Angel’s thoughts. 

“Yea, sorry. Just didn’t realize you had a kid.” Angel wanted to rewind the last 10 seconds so he never said those words. 

Izzy’s face dropped a little and she looked back down at her daughter and placed her back on the ground and stayed at her level for a moment. “Go back with your friends, Abrielle.” 

As she stood up she turned to Angel, and nodded towards the door. For a moment he hesitated and looked at Maverick. “You can take him, but Olivia doesn’t mind watching him.” She pointed to the woman with the lanyard similar to her own that was at the smaller kids table. With a nod, Angel was walking out of the room and standing awkwardly in front of Izzy. 

“I know you understand the need for privacy, Angel. The need to keep things to yourself. If I recall the first time I met you, I put my own address in for your library card because you were two nervous to give out information.” It felt scolding almost the way she was speaking. 

“I–” Angel went to speak but she cut him off by holding up her finger and speaking over him. 

“I don’t need a reason to make a choice regarding my child, Angel.” Her accent came out strong when she said his name. “You out of all people should get that.” 

“I do, I’m sorry. I just thought we were friends.” Again, Angel was wishing he would just keep his mouth shut. 

Izzy sighed, her guard immediately falling down and with a shake of her head she spoke. “We are friends, Angel. I just need to be cautious with her.” 

“I get that.” He nodded. “I didn’t mean to do whatever this is.” He waved his hand around and laughed awkwardly. “If anything, I’m glad you felt comfortable to tell me, it’s cool, having a parent friend. Haven’t had many of those really.” 

“Well if you do the daycare thing, you’ll make more during pickup and dropoff.” She matched his humorous tone. 

“Don’t know if I want that.” He chuckled nervously.

“Why do you think I don’t tell many people I have a child.” Her eyebrows raised and her mouth curled into a smile. 

Angel laughed. “Well then I’m honored to be accepted amongst the few.” He looked through the window of the daycare door and saw Maverick laughing at something and he turned back to Izzy. “I’d like to sign him up, even if I don’t get this job, this is the right place for him.” 

Izzy smiled at that comment, she went to say something but bit her tongue immediately. Her desire to say that this is the best place for Maverick and him was high but she held back and simply nodded. 

“Let’s get you two signed up then.” 

[jujumin-translates]

Sakuya Sakuma | [SR] Reminiscence of Blooming | Veludo Town Oshi Spot! ~Video: Sakuya~ - Part 1

Guest A: I’ve never been here before, but everything was really delicious.

Guest B: We’ll have to come back here again some time.

Sakuya: By all means! We’ll always be happy to have you. Thank you very much!

*Shop bell rings*

Citron: Good work, Sakuya!

Tsuzuru: Good work.

Sakuya: Citron-san, Tsuzuru-kun! Welcome. I didn’t expect to see you here.

Citron: We heard that you were working part-time at Hanamura’s today, so we came here to get koban! (1)

Tsuzuru: Koban are way too hard and also inedible.

Store Manager: Perfect timing, why don’t you take your break and have something to eat soon, Sakuma-kun?

Sakuya: Thank you so much!

Citron: Then you can eat with us, Sakuya!

Sakuya: Yeah, I’ll do that!

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Tsuzuru: By the way, have you decided on what place in Veludo Town you’re going to introduce?

Sakuya: Ah, you meant the thing I have to upload to Inste?

Sakuya: I was thinking that here might be a good place, but… I’m still not sure if there’s anywhere else that would be good.

Citron: There are so many places in Veludo Town, it is easy to get a little lost~.

Tsuzuru: True. Well, but it does help to have so many options.

Sakuya: Yeah. That’s just how charming Veludo Town really is!

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Sakuya: (Alright, I’m glad my part-time job today went off without a hitch. And I’m really glad Tsuzuru-kun and Citron-san came too.)

Sakuya: (That reminds me of what I was talking about with them…)

Sakuya: (I want to be able to properly convey just how many good things are are about Veludo Town to the people who watch the video.)

Sakuya: (That’s why I wanna think carefully about the place I’m gonna introduce to them… I think I’ll wander around town a bit before I go home.)

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Sakuya: Phew…

Sakuya: (I went around to a lot of different places, so I think I’ll rest on this bench for a bit.)

Sakuya: (Veludo Town really does have a lot of great places to go to, but I think I still have to go with…)

Hisoka: …Sakuya?

Sakuya: …Ah, Hisoka-san!

Hisoka: Taking a break on that bench?

Sakuya: Something like that.

Sakuya: What are you up to, Hisoka-san?

Hisoka: I was playing with the cats with Misumi for a bit.

Hisoka: But we just finished playing with the cats because Misumi found a triangle and went off after it.

Sakuya: Fufu, I see.

Hisoka: What are you doing, Sakuya?

Sakuya: I was just walking around Veludo Town for a bit after my part-time job to think about places I could introduce on Inste.

Hisoka: Oh yeah, I forgot about that… I’m glad you’re thinking about it properly, Sakuya. Have you found somewhere good yet?

Sakuya: I did actually have a place in mind as soon as I heard about it. …I’m thinking of doing Hanamura’s.

Sakuya: I introduced Hanamura’s on the MANKAI Channel before when I gave a tour of Veludo Way with Spring Troupe.

Sakuya: But I wasn’t sure if it was okay for me to do the same place again, so I was a little lost.

Sakuya: But after walking around Veludo Town again today, I knew that if I was going to introduce any place, I wanted it to be there.

Hisoka: If you think it’s a good idea, then I think it’s fine. And it’s not like they said no repeats or anything.

Hisoka: And besides, if there’s anyone who’d be able to show it off with a different charm than before, it’s you, Sakuya.

Sakuya: Hisoka-san… thank you so much! I’ll do my best to introduce it!

Hisoka: Yeah, and I’ll do my best to film.

[ Next Part ⇢ ]

• • •

T/N:

(1) Koban are small former Japanese gold coins.

[mintjuliee]

Kya initially met Ila after an unusually exhausting stint of traveling in her early 30s. She wanted to stick around somewhere for a bit, but she wasn't quite ready to go home, so she ended up deciding to head to the Northern Water Tribe. It was somewhere where she could blend in and also be surrounded by her element.

While traveling, Kya tended to look for work as a healer anywhere they would accept her. She enjoyed the spontaneity of living in unique places and helping people from all over.

On this particular occasion, she ended up picking up a job in a tiny little clinic. It was wedged between a small town and a semi-remote village of predominately subsistence fishers. It was perfect, because the owner allowed her to stay in a nice room in the back, and she had a lot of free time when she wasn't receiving patients. Well, one extremely cold and stormy night, Kya was unwinding for the day when a knock came to the door. She answered with an oil lamp clutched in her hand and was shocked when a bundled figure was standing on the opposite side and clutching their arm as it bled out alarmingly into the snow. She beckoned the large figure inside, which she assumed to be a man based off their incredibly large stature. Their clothing was also typical of men from the Northern Water Tribe. Kya lit as many lamps as she could to help her see as she worked and began helping the person out of their coat. Well, cue her pleasant surprise when the figure ended up introducing herself as an incredibly handsome woman by the name of Ila. Kya healed her injury, an accidental deep gash to her arm, and they talked and talked and talked, way past what was necessary. Ila ended up showing up the very next day with flowers to thank her and that was when the courtship began. They dated for a while and it was nice. The simple life and a sweet bit of romance was exactly what Kya needed at the time. She was tired after a few bad experiences while traveling. She was also already receiving letters hinting at her father's deteriorating condition. It was nice to slow down and also find someone she could be herself with. Eventually, though, Kya was struck by the usual itch to move on and that is when it got a little messy. Ila presented her with a betrothal necklace. Of course, Kya was not really ready for that. Of course, Ila was utterly heartbroken. With time and many letters, over the years, Kya and Ila were able to work things out. As they got older, they became something a little more than friends. They've come to enjoy visiting each other and playing wives for a bit (depicted above) ;) Ila has never stopped wanting Kya to be hers though. She would carve her another betrothal necklace in a heartbeat. But she has come to enjoy the time they do spend together and isn't really keyed up about about the past or what could have been.

[orchidyoonkook]

I wish you would write a fic where: UTWT Yoongi and Reader were cuddling while it was raining outside. 🥰

(This is just for that post you shared - although I would be over the moon if you did do this. But you do whatever your heart desires!!)

You're the best and I hope you have a lovely week. 💕

Rainfall Brings Tomorrow | MYG

Pairing: UTWT Badboy! Min Yoongi x (F)!Reader

Genre // Rating: (T) | fluff, touch of angst, some self reflection

Summary: You leave tomorrow, and there's one thing you need to say goodbye too.

Warnings: none! I think. Reader just thinks a lot.

Word Count: 923

Release Date: October 19, 2023, 3:00PM

A/N: Well I wrote this from 2am to 6:14am. I didn't even see this ask until about 1:30am and then I couldn't stop thinking about it. So I hope it lives up to your expectations, dearest Anon.

A/N 1.5: This was written in 3 hours and then only edited twice. I think it's coherent but if there are mistakes, please forgive.

The soft patter of rainfall falls around you, filling your ears with earthsong. His soft breaths flow in a steady rhythm to its beat, and the patio umbrella you shoved into the ground is doing its job well, keeping your resting forms dry from the delicate cadence of an afternoon shower. 

Your pond vibrates in its own little symphony of ripples, ducks hidden away in their nests while it plays. The boughs and branches of your home away from home rustle in its light wind, their tune mixing in beautifully with the rest. 

It’s cold and overcast out, but his body keeps you warm, as yours keeps his. He sits in your usual spot, back against the years worn wooden truck, while you sit against his chest, both covered by his leather jacket, preserving the heat you two were just beginning to learn to share with one another. 

It’s the day before you leave.

The day before you say ‘fuck you and goodnight’ to everyone and everything in your town, hop on the back of a motorcycle and never look back. 

But you needed to have one last visit to the place that brought you and Yoongi together for the first time, plus all the times after. And you wanted him here with you when you did. 

To say goodbye. To the one thing you would miss more than anything else.

Your willow tree. 

Yoongi’s arms circle your waist as you lean your head back against his shoulder. His touch still sends sparks anywhere it lands on your skin, and you hope that it never goes away. Hope it never dulls or fades. Because you’re learning way too fast that it’s becoming one of your favourite things, and you don’t even want to think of what you’d do if you lost it. 

A gentle kiss at your exposed neck, under your ear, lets you know he’s finished the page. But you still have a couple sentences to go as you hold The Mysterious Island open with a hand through the jacket sleeve for both of you to read.

You found it suiting, to truly bring this chapter in your lives a full three hundred and sixty degrees before closing it forever. And that’s what you need more than anything, you think. 

Closure. 

Because as much as you hate it here, and as much as you can’t wait to go, it’s all you’ve ever known. And while this change is good and needed and necessary, it’s also incredibly scary. 

You hate that a very small part of you doesn’t want to go, for the sake of familiarity. It’s safe here. You know what to expect. You know what will happen, when it will happen, what to do, where to go, who you’ll become. There’s a guideline written into your future by your past here. One you’ve never wanted to follow and always wanted to change.

But there are the absolutely terrifying ‘what if’s’ that comes with big change. What if you leave and it’s no better than where you were? What if you somehow mess all of it up? What if nothing goes to plan, everything goes to shit, and you’re forced to come back?

That’s your biggest nightmare, and it could very easily become your reality. 

But it’s not enough to change your mind. 

You’re going. Tomorrow morning, you’re leaving, come hell or high water or…maybe rain water if this keeps up. And you’re taking the man currently drawing you closer into him with you. 

He takes a quiet inhale of your hair, happily drowning in your scent. Yoongi’s still settling into the fact that the woman he’s holding is his. At least for now. The one that always caught his eye. The one that he never knew he could want so badly. The one who reads with him on a rainy afternoon in their shared space so she can say goodbye to the only thing that was kind to her, with him here to support her.

He’ll support you however you need, forever if he can.

His girl.

Pulling your legs up to rest the book on, you flip the page though your focus wavers, and you stare out into the shower blurred haze of your favourite place. 

This is the last time you’ll ever be here, so you take in every detail you can. The way the grass feels underneath you, the shape of the pond and the colour of its water. You commit the height of the tree and the ebb and flow of its leaves to memory as best you can. You take in the feeling of Yoongi behind you, remembering how he used to sit a foot away from you.

How every day, whether you realized it or not, he got just a little bit closer.

And before you can stop it, a silent tear slides down your face. You wipe it away but Yoongi catches it, and gives you a reassuring squeeze.

“You okay?” he asks. 

You are.

It’s just finally hitting you that your years of pain and loneliness and misery are ending. You’re finally taking control of your life like you’ve always planned, and better yet, you aren’t doing it alone. You have someone now. 

You can’t remember the last time you had that. 

“Yeah,” you say, lifting your chin to look at him. “I think I’m going to be just fine.”

Holding the book back up, you see you’ve reached the final chapter. And somehow you know, it’s the first chapter of your own.

A/N 2: Thanks for reading, loves. Xoxo, Yoon <3