#but i still need to finish these chapters!

[shellshocklove]

ok WOW!!!!! i just finished reading this for the first time and i'm speechless! i started reading this way too late, thinking i'd read one chapter before bed just to check it out. fast forward five chapters it was, and i'm not kidding 06.30am, and i was in a concerning "only one more chapter and i'll go to bed"-situation. anyways i fell asleep, woke up way too few hours later still thinking about these two, and thinking of them i did until i finally could read the rest before bed.

your writing is so beautiful! lots and lots of beautiful sentences and smart description. it's so clear you have a love for reading, and know your stuff when it comes to literature and mythology. in one of the warnings you said this story was self-indulgent and there is nothing better than a self-indulgent story. you so clearly put your heart and soul into this, and it's so lovely to read. it makes me so happy bc that joy shines through, hiding between the lines.

reading this felt like when i read "the secret history" for the first time. i couldn't put that book down either. i saw you reference it in this series, and i knew i was right in my feeling of this story. in a way it felt catered to my interests. like in the last part where you included joni. and as someone with a joni mitchell url (and someone who's had a joel story inspired by "for the roses" on the wip backburner for a while now), she's a big inspiration to me and i love her music. when you directly mentioned my favorite song on blue "the last time i saw richard" and the line "all romantics meet the same fate someday" i knew i was gonna be in my feelings later 😭

the story arc you've put them through has been delicious to read. the perfect balance between hot and filthy smut, and feelings that made my heart ache in the best way (and i mean. i've stopped and read a paragraph again bc i needed to really feel it in my chest). you've written the impending doom and tragedy of their relationship so well. it's hidden in every part, blowing air into a balloon ready to pop at any minute. the push and pull of the early chapters, of the "we shouldn't be doing this" to the "i can't quit you" (<- also a brokeback mountain reference or am i trippin'?).

the chapters in new york i think are my favorite. the freedom they had there to explore their blooming relationship, but again also the tragedy of how they could only be free there with no hiding :(( i knew it was coming in the last chapter. when rachel's advances got turned down by joel in new york i knew it was gonna be her that caught them. that last line broke me </3 idk i'm hoping rachel and joel's pre-existing relationship can help this in any way. rachel is hurt, but could she do that to joel? could she do that to the man she loves, even if he loves another? maybe the tragedy is that her love for him is what dooms his and reader's relationship </3

anyway, long story short, i loved this very very much! you have a gift for writing, and i'm so happy you wrote this! thank you!! <3

a lover’s pinch | masterlist

professor!joel miller x f!reader

pairing: professor!joel miller x f!reader rating: explicit, 18+ minors dni series summary: a one-night stand with a charming texan turns into something much more thrilling when you discover he is your new college professor. joel miller is entirely off limits. but now that you’ve had a taste, will you be able to keep your hands to yourselves? series warnings/tags: au, university professor joel, age gap [20 something years diff], alcohol consumption, ethically dubious relationship due to inherent power imbalance, explicit smut, angst, secret relationship, joel has both his daughters, joel's profession is very ooc but the core of his personality [grumpy], lore [dilf], mannerisms [being a secret softy] etc etc are all as true to character as my two humble hands can manage. explicit warnings included in each part. main masterlist ziggy's moodboard | ziggy’s moodboard II sil's moodboard ALP playlist

one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine | ten |

╰┈➤ night breeze [an ALP interlude set between seven & eight]

[gghostwriter]

Time is a Fickle Thing

Girl Dad!Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: Spencer realizes how important it is to occupy the present and be active in the little things Trope: Fluff & Comfort w.c: 1.48k a/n: this was inspired by an essay I read over the week titled ‘Learning to Measure time in Love & Loss’ by Chris Huntington. It’s very profound so I would suggest you go read it—Andrew Garfield also read it on the podcast called ‘Modern Love’ so go listen to that too. Not proofread. Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated! 💗 masterlist

There was still an array of paperwork to be done in his desk at Quantico. Case files that needed to be written down and reviewed by his unit chief, Emily.

The past Dr. Spencer Reid—the one who was still wet behind the ears and green in the eyes of his team members, would have found the droll of filling out forms therapeutic. But now at his age of 40, everything else—typing out information and grading essays, were chores that demanded his every waking attention. He had found himself agitated with the looming workload that seemed never ending.

“Daddy,” a sweet voice murmured beside him. The source—a small body nestling closer to his side.

He hummed in reply, absentmindedly as his brain was preoccupied with estimating how many hours he needed to finish checking submissions in lieu of sleep.

Tiny hands patted his cheeks. “Daddy,” the sweet voice now coated with a hint of urgency.

Spencer’s hazel eyes locked with a pair of replicas. “Yes, Aurora?”

“What happens next?”

Shaking his head, he glanced down at her choice for a bedtime story, The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, and realized it was the end of a chapter. Reading together was a sacred ritual he formed ever since he had found out you were pregnant.

It made you giggle when you pointed out that she, still a fetus cocooned safely in your body, would not understand the works of The Giving Tree or The Rainbow Fish. He rattled of statistics that although she couldn’t understand the meaning, she could still hear quite well.

In truth, he wanted her to know him—his voice, his presence. Her father who was quite scared to bring in an innocent into the world.

Still, scared even.

Her pink bottom lip jutting out into a frown, reminiscent of the ‘look’ his wife gives to him that renders him speechless and pliable to demands.

It was fascinating how you and him created such a perfect combination—a seven year old daughter who was into reading, as he was, and confident, as you were.

“Daddy, what happens next?”

The corners of his mouth lifted into a smile. The look of exasperation on her tiny face was adorable.

Everything about her was captivating.

“Well, sweet pea,” he began to close the book. “That would be a story for another night.”

“But—”

“Remember what we promised?”

She sighed, gripping her white bunny—a gift from Aunt Penelope, closer. “One chapter only.”

“That’s right,” tucking the stray tendrils away from her angelic face.

As he started to stand up from his precarious lying position on her gingham patterned bed, Aurora’s tiny warm hands gave his sleeves a double tug.

“You’re forgetting something, Daddy.”

He leaned in to give her forehead a kiss.

“Is that it?” He teased.

She giggled, her feet kicking under the covers. “No!”

Brushing his fingers behind her neck—her tickle spot that matched yours. “What about this one?”

Aurora squealed, her infectious happy energy warming his heart. She was a treasure and he felt blessed to be considered her father.

“Stop Daddy, stop!” She sat up, hands crossing over her chest to state she meant business.

Spencer conceded, showing his hands in front of him—a sign of surrender. If she was standing, he could just imagine her little foot stomping on the ground and taking in a wide stance she learned from observing Uncle Morgan.

“Mommy always said you never forget anything,” she argued. “She said you have an ei-eid—perfect memory.”

“Eidetic memory, Aurora, and yes, mommy is right.”

She tilted her head then, her wavy hazel hair swaying behind her. “Then how come you don’t remember?”

“How about giving me a clue then?”

She huffed. “Best part, worst part, Daddy! You forgot to ask me!”

Oh.

That was another ritual he added when Aurora started to learn how to string words along. Although there were nights away from a case that he could not read to her, he always made it a point to ask her via call the best and worst part of her day. It made him feel connected with her even though he was miles away.

“Oh how could I forget, sweet pea,” Spencer sat back on the bed, tucking her back as he went. “Now, can I know what your worst part is?”

She went silent for a moment. Deep in thought, brows scrunching together.

“When Mommy didn’t allow me to wear my new rain boots to school. She said it’s because it wasn’t raining but I really wanted to wear them.”

He laughed, having heard of the small disagreement you had which made you late for work. “We only wear rain boots when the weather is sad, remember?”

Aurora nodded.

“And what about the best part?”

She smiled, the answer quickly spilling out of her. “This is, Daddy.”

Spencer could feel the effect her simple words had to his system. It warmed his heart that expanded for two when she came into the world. It put a halt to any train of thought in his brain.

“Want to know a secret?” He whispered. “This is mine too.”

Tiny hands rubbed her drooping eyes before further nestling in her bed. “Good night, Daddy. I love you.”

He slowly crept out of the room.

“I love you too,” he flicked the light off and closed the door behind him.

Spencer found himself repeating those words and slowly lamenting over missed milestones in her burgeoning life.

Her first steps.

Her first tooth falling out.

Her latest family presentation in school in which you recorded her explaining where he was and what he does for a living—catching bad guys.

In his focused dedication in trying to make the country a better place for her future, Spencer had forgotten to appreciate the present, her growth, and the very notion that time could not be reversed to live the mundane things that make everyday worth living.

Aristotle once said ‘time crumbles things; everything grows old under the power of time and is forgotten through the lapse of time.’

It was a concept he was familiar with by the ripe age of nine, having spent his early youth in isolation and soaking up every thinking thought from the great minds that had roamed this planet before him.

He never forgot the words—not that his memory would allow him to.

And yet, as he found himself sitting on his desk, a cup of fresh tea in front of him, the phrase came to surface like a forgotten pair of lucky socks hidden within the depths of a cabinet.

Perhaps it was his heart that kept it hidden or better yet forgotten, a feat on its own. Perhaps during his tender age, he had yet sculpted the capacity to digest what it meant to his very soul.

Or perhaps, it was a sign from the unknown to focus and live in the present.

She was growing and becoming her very own person right before his unfocused eyes.

Spencer sighed, feeling a pair of arms glide to wrap around his shoulders.

“What’s got you so down, handsome?” You left a kiss on his cheek.

He intertwined your hands together. “It’s just—I missed out on so many milestones. Does that make me an absentee father?”

You walked around him before propping yourself on his lap. “I don’t think so, Spence. Why? What brought this on?”

“I found myself thinking about work when I should be focused on spending time—reading to Aurora. It made me feel sad that she was looking forward to our nightly routine and there I was, thinking about paperwork.”

There was a flash of sadness in your eyes as you caressed his cheek. “That’s alright. We all have our moments, Spence. You just got caught up with life and the responsibilities it has given you,” a lithe finger twisted a loose tendril blocking hos vision. “I know—we know, Aurora and I, that you being busy doesn’t mean you love us any less.”

“I just wish I wouldn’t miss anymore, love.”

You trailed kisses all over his cheeks, the corners of his mouth, before landing perfectly on his awaiting lips. “And I know you’d try your best moving forward.”

“Have I told you I love you?” He teased, arms securely on your waist. “Because I do and I feel lucky to have an understanding partner as you.”

“I love you too, Spence, and Aurora loves you too,” you giggled. “And between you and me, I think you’re still her favorite parent.”

Head thrown back, he laughed, thighs shaking from your admission. “It’s because I cave more to her whims more than you do.”

“Well, there’s that too.”

You gave him another kiss.

“We can try to be more present next time—together. I won’t let you doubt yourself. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated!

[mynameismad]

What have I been up to?????

Hey all! I'm sure you're all cycling rapidly through the stages of grief like I am, but I thought I'd just check in and let everyone know what's going on with me and when they can expect more comics!

GOOD NEWS: I got a concept art job! I've been working freelance for a client for about two months now and things are going great! Honestly working on short assignments with weekly deadlines has been an amazing break from the slow, constant march of longform comics. I am surprising myself every day and haven't been this excited to learn and grow as an artist in a very long time. Moving forward, I would like to find a full time job in games and stay there, rather than continuing to hustle full-time in comics. I've paused my Patreon for the foreseeable future.

THAT BEING SAID: I will always be making comics!!!!!! I love them a lot, they've been good to me, and I have all these ideas in my head that NEED to be let out. I want to start making them in my own time, rather than as my main source of income. We'll see how long it takes to find true stability in concept (maybe never, lol) but in the meantime I will keep drawing my silly little guys and posting them online for everyone to see. I have to! I have to keep going and making the art I want to see in the world! We have to keep going!!!!

SAKANA: hoping to get back to the fish boys sooner rather than later. I've been stuck on whether to end the latest chapter right away or get a few more pages in there. We're moving into a HEAVY part of the plot, which will be trickier to write, so I've been procrastinating lol. Please don't take my extended absence as proof that I'm walking away from the story: I've just been busy with a new job and I don't know exactly how to get to the next chapter yet!! (also, jsyk, the Webtoon mirror is something I was doing for fun! not a priority!!)

RR: I actually have a few different projects started for RR! Chapter 2 is like 9 pages in, but then I paused and started work on a 20ish page minicomic, which is like 7 pages in. I'm going to finish the mini first and hopefully upload it to itch.io. For Chapter 2, I created this really elaborate environment in an effort to force myself to learn Blender, but then I got a job....so I have no time to learn Blender lol. Still trying to figure out whether to simplify or push forward.

OTHER: yeah...I am a comic artist at heart so obviously I have a million things I want to do. But SAKANA and RR are the highest priority right now!

UPCOMING: I am pursuing other freelance work for shorter, more manageable projects! If you need somebody to redline all your thumbnails, critique the first draft of your synopsis, or make a 20-40 page comic, please keep me in mind!

In closing: I'm locking my twitter accounts tonight and moving away from the platform for now. I'll be here, Instagram (@/mad_rupert), and BlueSky (@/madrupert). Thanks for sticking with me, let's hold onto and support each other in the coming weeks, months, and years! Let's keep going!!!!! I love you all so much!!!

[vivwritesfics]

Drive Me Crazy

Chapter Three

None of you are used to pack dynamics. Unlike then, it made you near feral. There's nothing more they want than to build you back up.

Lestappen X Reader

Chapter One Chapter Two

It all happened so fast. Max grabbed a hold of Charles and pulled him away from you, as your handler grabbed the back of your shirt and pulled you away. A good thing, too. Your teeth were bared at him, ready to bite down on any inch of skin you could reach.

The muzzle was fastened over your mouth, keeping every body else safe from you. "Huh," Charles said as he struggled out of Max's grip. He looked at you, at the way your expression changed the minute the muzzle was back over your face. Eyes wide, expression guilty as you stared at him.

I'm sorry, you wanted to choke out. But you couldn't. Instead a whimper left your lips as you tried to beg for some sort of forgiveness. But Max (Max fucking Verstappen! But you could freak out about that later) stepped between you. The look he gave you was enough to shut you up.

"Come on," said your handler as she pushed you through the garage. You couldn't stop yourself from looking guilty as engineers and mechanics stared at you. They'd seen what had just happened, there was no doubt in your mind. Your gaze fell to the floor, unable to look any of them in the mind.

There was your car, your F1 car. Your status as reserve driver had been kept quiet, your seat fitted and the car set up to your liking. Your number sat on the car, number fifty-three. It was real. It was really, really real.

They were still watching you. They watched as you touched the numbers on your car, as you climbed your way inside of it and sat in your seat.

"How does it feel?" Your handler asked, leaning over the halo.

You nodded as you looked up at her. Good. It felt good. It felt right. As soon as this part of your life was over, you could finally be done.

Out of the corner of your eye, you watched as Max pushed Charles through the garage. Through the garage and out the other side. Your focus fell back onto the steering wheel in front of you and you mimicked a lap around the circuit.

You didn't know that Max was pushing Charles into his drivers room. You didn't know just how angry he was with Charles. But you did hear as Max slammed the door shut.

"What the hell were you thinking?!" Max roared, his expression furious.

Charles didn't cower at his anger. They were long past the days where Max's wrath would have his retreating to safety. "You saw her, right?" He asked and glanced at the door. "You saw how much she needs me."

"Needs you? Charlie, she went to attack you! She doesn't need you."

But Charles shook his head. "She needs me in the way you needed me, Max. She's what you would have become if you didn't let me in."

"She's dangerous."

Charles's hands were on his cheeks, holding his face. "So were you." He didn't let Max drop his chin to his chest and kissed him slowly. "What if I can help her in the way I helped you? Shouldn't I try?"

Max placed his hands over Charles's. His cold hands, cold from the can of Red Bull he had finished before he marched over, against Charles's warmer ones. "Not if it puts you in danger," he whispered, his eyes pleading. "Charles, I..."

But he couldn't say it.

"Come on," Charles said and let his hands slip away from Charles's face. "I can't top your speed in practice if you're sulking in here," he whispered and kissed Max once more.

As they walked back through the garage (Max continuing on to the Red Bull garage), there you were. Your helmet, Ferrari red and covered in sponsors, nothing personal about it, sat on your head. Acting as a muzzle, Charles realised when he looked at you.

His leg jolted, but he stopped himself from walking over to you. No, not yet. Not after what had just happened. He gave you a smile and you flipped up the visor, letting him see your eyes.

Charles got himself ready to climb into the car. All the time he wasn't wearing his helmet, he was looking at you, watching you. You, in your fireproofs, with your overalls around your hips. It suited you, everything but the helmet. The helmet looked too corporate.

You needed something personal, a design all your own.

"Tell me how she does," Charles said to Bryan before he pulled his helmet over his head.

Bryan passed him his gloves. "You worry about your own drive, okay?" He said and Charles focused his eyes forward.

Formula One was nothing like Formula Two. Everybody on the grid had forgotten it, even if they had all been in the series at some point. Most before it was called Formula Two, back when it was GP2.

There had been little preparation for your transition into Formula One. It wasn't supposed to happen yet, you were supposed to have more time. But then Carlos went and broke his damn leg and here you were.

If only he wasn't human, maybe you wouldn't be in this situation.

Your first lap was, well, terrifying. More than once you wanted to stop the car, jump out and dry heave onto the gravel. Nothing would come up, that you knew. But you kept going, keeping out of the way when the McLaren's came past.

First practice isn't about being the fastest, you told yourself.

"Next lap go," your engineer said, as if you were a dog he had taught a trick to. You gritted your teeth as you took the last corner. And then, you went for it.

It wasn't about topping the times, about being the fastest on track. It wouldn't be for you this weekend, anyway. This weekend was about getting a feel for the car you'd spend the next few weeks in. It was about bringing the car back to the garage in one piece. You didn't need to worry about scoring points or helping the team in the constructors, not this week.

But that was all you were thinking about.

Gotta go fast. Gotta score points. Gotta go fast. Gotta score points. Gotta go fast. Gotta score points. Gotta go fast. Gotta score points.

The lap felt good. Not fast, but good. But that wasn't enough, not for you. Your engineer said something, something that was met with a snarl as you went again.

"Come into the pits on this lap!" Your engineer was shouting. "Box fucking box!"

Box box. You knew that phrase, even when you weren't thinking right. But the lap was good. You couldn't abandon it, not now. "Box box, beastie."

Slamming on the brakes, you swerved into the pitlane. A dangerous move, one that would definitely see you penalised. You pitted and the car was pushed back into the garage.

"What the hell were you thinking?!" Your engineer roared as he marched over to you. He gripped the halo are he stared down at you.

You were still, chest heaving as you waited to be told what to do. Waiting for your handler to come over and give you instructions. Eyes set forward, watching as Charles pulled into the pit. He wasn't there for very long, a minute at most, before he was making his way back onto the track.

"Beastie," your handler said, grabbing your attention. You looked up. Well, looked up as much as you could in the car. "Listen to your engineer. No more driving like that, okay?"

She said it so gently that you found yourself attempting to nod. Just wanting to make her happy, to make her proud of you. Her hand was suddenly on top of your helmet. "You know what happens if you disobey."

Your eyes were still focused forward and you nodded again. You weren't going to disobey again. You wouldn't dare.

When she patted your helmet, you shut your eyes. That was close to what would happen, close enough to have you moving away.

"Get back out there," she said and moved away from you. You drove out of the garage, down the pitlane and out onto the track.

You did what your engineer told you. Did a push lap when you were told and cooled down when you had to. Of course, you didn't see the wave Charles gave you when you went past, couldn't hear as he asked about you on the radio.

"How is she doing?" He asked Bryan.

"She's doing good, Charles, but concentrate on your own drive, please."

You were doing good, that was all Charles needed to know.

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[seraphinitegames]

The Wayhaven Chronicles—Update 08/Nov/2024

This week started with Nai in hospital, so it wasn’t the greatest beginning! She is home now though, thankfully. Still on the mend but getting there.

It was also kind of a nice time too, oddly, as I got to talk with her properly, and I was talking to her about the Bobby and Douglas branch routes, and the 'lore' route. And I was getting really animated about it (as I always do when talking Wayhaven!), and it was just so awesome to not only talk about everything coming up but to just realise, even at this stage, how much I utterly love this story and characters and how excited I am for everything still to come!

But the unexpected weekend and start to the week did put things behind a bit. And then I decided to rewrite the entirety of the ending of Chapter 5. I kinda knew I was going to do it when going into editing. It just…didn’t focus on the right thing for the moment, and it was bugging me! :D

It is individual love interest scenes, something always a bit more impactful anyway, and I wanted a bit of foreshadowing of something coming up in a later book, but…it was just too much to fit in when there was already another major focus needed on this scene on something specific to this book!

So, I tried to rework them instead, but it wasn’t happening, so I pulled off the band aid quickly and just deleted it all. Oh man, it’s always so painful to get rid of thousands of words of work—and not something I do often, as I do believe what someone writes instinctually first is probably the right choice!—but sometimes it’s just got to be done.

Saying that though, I’m catching up really fast and these scenes are waaaay better! Much more concise and can put proper focus on just the one thing as well as the MC and LI’s reactions to it and the shared moment after.

I’m hoping to have these rewrites finished up by early next week, and then the final bit of editing to get this chapter done.

Chapter 4 edits are coming back to me too, so I’ll get those added in next week before moving onto the next chapter!

Hope you all have a fantastic weekend! We’ll be offline as usual, so I’ll talk to you all on Monday <3

[di-42]

Adding what have recently become my go-to comfort fics:

The Bookseller And The Garden, rated T, 13k

Fluff, fluff, fluff! Canon divergent fiction where Crowley is a demon stationed on earth, Aziraphale is an angel stationed on earth, but they have never met until present day. There's no end of the world in sight, only an angel and a demon falling in love and not knowing how to break it to the other that they're not human. I laughed all the way through.

The Anon Before Christmas, rated E, 66k

Ah. Where to begin. Every now and then, you read a fiction that just makes you feel at home. Makes you feel like you’re in safe hands. Like you’re in for a real treat. This absolute gem has very quickly become my favourite human AU. For several reasons.  The characterisation of the two main characters is absolutely spot on. I could hear Crowley talking in DT’s Crowley voice and see him moving in DT’s Crowley way, and I could hear Aziraphale talking in MS’s Aziraphale voice and see him moving in MS’s Aziraphale way. The pace of the development of their relationship from enemies to lovers is just perfect. It’s told from Crowley’s POV and you can see how his perspective changes as the story progresses, but the writer is so good that Aziraphale’s change of perspective shows perfectly through Crowley’s POV too. The array of side characters is so good that it actually pains me to call them side characters. I wrote in one of my comments to the fiction that I will forever adore this story’s Bee, and I meant it, but Newt and Ana are equally fantastic (and I loved the other cameos too!). Also, and this is especially important to me, this story is as much a love story between Crowley and Aziraphale as it is a story of true friendship among all the characters. They look after each other, they have each other’s back, they support each other. I am so lucky and privileged to be able to see myself represented in that aspect of the story. Last but not least, this fiction doesn't overstay its welcome one bit. You are happy about how everyone ended up, but still could read more. It’s like you are part of the gang and want to know what your friends are up to. Everything in this story was perfect. I realise I haven’t mentioned what the plot is about, but hopefully by now you might want to find out for yourself!

Wrong Turn, rated T, 37k

Honestly, I don't know why this fiction touched me so much. I just couldn't stop thinking about it for days after I finished it. It's a post season 1 fiction where Crowley suddenly finds himself in a parallel universe at the time the apocalypse is just about to happen. The Crowley and Aziraphale in that universe have a different history to our Crowley and Aziraphale. All our Crowley wants to do is to go back to his universe and his very own angel, but how? As you follow the main plot and focus on Crowley's thoughts and actions, you'll start slowly feeling the other story get hold of you, and it won't let go until the very end and beyond.

Happiness, More Or Less, rated M, 21k

If you read only one story out of this list, make it this one. This human AU moved me so very much I cried. Crowley moves into his new flat in Soho, only to discover the flat in haunted by the ghost of the owner of the bookshop downstairs. I won't tell anything else about the plot other than it does have a very sweet happy ending, and it gets there via a rollercoaster of emotions. This is really one of those fictions that leave me in awe of the fandom's talent and creativity. Read it, read it, read it!

Wavelengths & Frequencies, WIP, rated E, chapters 14/?

If you feel like you're going through one of those phases where you need to curl up on a sofa with a cup of hot chocolate and something good to read, something safe and reassuring, then this fantastic fiction is for you. It's a human AU enemies-to-lovers fiction where Aziraphale and Crowley can't stand each other, but work for the same media corporation as radio DJs and have to attend charity events together. The characterisation is spot on and the humour great. And what an incredible soundtrack! I honestly can't tell you how happy each notification of a new chapter of this story makes me!

Plus my own one shots:

Angel! Angel! They're At It Again! Rated M, 5k

It's the year 2030. The world never ended. Aziraphale and Crowley are living happily and safely together as a married couple. Everything would be well, if it wasn't that lately Aziraphale has been a bit busy. A bit distracted. Now, Crowley can't have that, can he? He seeks the advice of his girlfriends, who unwittingly give him an idea on how to liven up his marriage.

A fluffy story about how we get to a certain cottage.

In Vino Ludus, rated E, 3k

It's the year 2030. Crowley comes to the bookshop drunk, and Aziraphale can finally put all those years of eye-rolling practice to good use.

An as of yet canon divergent fluffy night in the life of an angel and a demon.

Do you have any go to Good Omens comfort fics?

i got u ❤️

stockholm’s other syndrome (T, 5k): aziraphale lets himself get ‘kidnapped’ by a demon. very cute and romcommy

sit tight take hold (E, 150k): formula 1 au that got me totally into f1 while i am not even a car person. the type of au that becomes its own thing and you love escaping to it again

where a canvas blooms (T, 3k): cuddle arrangement au with SUCH gorgeous art too it’ll make you feel so warm inside

manual handling (E, 8k): massage fic. ummm can an e rated fic be a comfort fic? sure why not. definite rereading material so

let me care for you (M, 1.7k) literal comfort — crowley gets cared for

big name feelings (E, 103k): fandom au and SO well done including the art. i followed this while it posted and it was so exciting

the gift (T, 3k): short & sweet they talk about the elephant in the room

my mind holds the key (T, 3k): aziraphale wants to know who the ‘best friend’ was that crowley supposedly lost. superbly written

one night in bangor (E, 17k): a classic and great on every reread. there’s a heaven-hell mixer and omg…. the careful, exciting, fluttering flirtation

slow show (E, 95k): i know i know it’s such an obvious one to rec bc it’s so famous but genuinely one of thee best fics and a lovely reread each time. actors au

empirical study on the principles of snake care (T, 2k): sorry to be that guy but sometimes i reread my own fics and i laugh with the little jokes bc i’ve forgotten them. aziraphale tries out some snake care tips on crowley

as always: begging people to add (self) recs to this post because i’d love to know what people’s comfort fics are. please share the joy

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Love That Burns ~ 28

LOVE THAT BURNS MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 1,995ish

Summary: The aftermath of the Battle of Alcatraz Island.

Warnings: Possible character death. Grief.

Notes: I know I said that I'm taking a break. I am. I'm focusing on taking care of myself. But I also got to take care of you all. Hopefully, this provides a slight distraction for any pain any of you may be feeling. (Also, I know the gif happened in the last chapter, but it can still work here...)

Reminder: I DO NOT do taglists. Please don’t ask. Please follow and interact! I appreciate any reblogs, likes, comments, and asks! 

The debris and water around the area quickly fell as Jean collapsed, dead. Logan spun around, looking for you. He couldn’t see you on top of any of the debris, making his heart sink.

“Y/N!” He screamed as he began using his senses to find you. “Y/N!” He caught a whiff of your blood and immediately began throwing debris. As soon as he could reach you, he pulled you into his lap. “Y/N? Sweetheart?” His heart dropped at the realization of how cold you were. “No.” 

He frantically looked for any sign that your body had begun to heal itself, but there was none. His fingers shot up to the pulse point at your neck, waiting with bated breath for something—anything to tell him that you were alive. He came up with nothing. 

“No, no, no, no, no!” Tears began pouring out of Logan’s eyes. “Somebody help me!”

“Logan!” Hank shouted, running towards Logan. “Logan, what—“ The blue, hairy mutant came stumbling to a stop. His eyes widened as he took in the scene of you limply laying in Logan’s arms with Jean dead a few feet away.

“Why is she not healing?!” Logan began panicking. What had happened that caused you to not be able to heal?

Hank broke out of his trance and rushed over to kneel on the other side of you. He placed two fingers under your neck and silently prayed for a pulse. His heart sank further with each passing second.

“Logan—“

“Do something, Hank! I need you to do something! Anything! I can’t lose her again!”

“I can find us a jet, perhaps get her back to the mansion. But, Logan, there’s no promises that she’ll… that she’ll wake.”

Logan shook his head, pulling you closer into his chest. “She’s not dead! She can heal!”

“She’s not healing, Logan.”

“No! You need to do something! You need to try! Or I swear to God that I will kill you.”

Hank gave a solemn nod. “I will go see if there’s a jet we can borrow.” Hank rushed off, worrying about how Logan would react if you didn’t wake up.

Logan’s eyes fell back on you. He began rocking back and forth. “I need you to wake up, baby,” he whispered, using everything in him to beg. “This isn’t funny. I know that I’ve made a shit ton of mistakes, but I can’t fix them if you’re not here… Wake up, sweetheart. Please.”

~~~

Hank was thankful to quickly find a jet that they could use. The X-Men piled up in it, steering clear of Logan and you. Hank brought Jean’s body on board, covering it with something so no one had to look. It was completely quiet the whole way back to the mansion.

“Logan,” Hank called once they had landed. “I need you to give her to me.” The Wolverine simply growled, holding on to you tighter. Hank sighed. “I can’t do anything with you holding her.”

“Work around me,” Logan snapped.

“I can’t do that.”

“Try.”

“Logan,” Ororo walked up, trying her hand with him. “We know that you love Y/N; we do too. But you have to let her go in order to help her.”

Logan shook his head. “What if I let her go. and she’s truly gone?”

“We don't know that until we let Hank try.”

After a brief second, Logan nodded, loosening his grip on you. Hank quickly took you and carried you off to the lab. Logan felt empty without you, sliding to the floor and breaking down. Ororo was quick to kneel beside him, trying to comfort him.

“I can’t—She can’t be—I don’t think I’ll—“ Logan’s mind was spiraling so fast that he couldn’t finish a single thought. “I should’ve stayed with her. I should have protected her… Ororo…” She sucked in a breath as Logan used her real name for the first time. “What if I’ve lost her?”

Though Ororo knew that Logan didn’t like physical affection from anyone besides you and sometimes Rogue, but she couldn’t help herself. She flung herself at Logan, holding him close. His head fell against her shoulder as heart-wrenching sobs began to wrack his body. Ororo rubbed Logan’s back as she let him cry. She knew it was pointless trying to say anything of comfort. She had seen you for herself and was utterly heartbroken at the thought of losing you after the loss of Scott, Charles, and Jean. But she didn’t love you in the way Logan did, for as long as Logan had. So Ororo would do what she could, which was to hold Logan as he let out his emotions while she said a silent prayer to whoever was listening.

~~~

Hank had to keep his emotions in check as he worked on you. The first thing he had to do was check to see if you had been injected with the cure without anyone’s knowledge. It was the only thing that he could think of for the reason why you weren’t healing, why you weren’t breathing. As Hank took a vial of your blood, he quickly realized that your blood was bubbling like it was boiling. He quickly began to run the test for the cure as he took another few vials, noticing the same thing: your blood was boiling.

Hank locked down the lab, not wanting anyone to enter if something was terribly wrong. He knew that Logan would fight it and could get in with his adamantium claws, but he had to take that chance. There was something going on with you. His only hypothesis was that Jean’s own powers had down something when she was controlling you. But what? 

Checking the monitoring for your stats, Hank noticed that your temperature began rising again, though you still had no heartbeat. 

“What are you doing, Y/N?” He muttered to himself.

It didn’t take long before Hank could confirm that you hadn’t been injected with the cure. He carefully monitored you, making note of your slowly rising temperature.

“Hank!” Logan yelled, pounding on the large lab doors. “Let me in!”

“Not a good idea, Logan!” Hank responded, not taking his eyes off the monitors as your temperature rose faster.

“I need to be with her!” The monitors began frantically beeping as your temperature rose to dangerous levels. Logan could hear them. “What’s going on?!”

“Stay out there!” Hank backed away as smoke began to lift from your body.

Logan sniffed, smelling the familiar scent of your smoke. He unsheathed his claws and before Hank or Ororo could stop him, cut a large hole in the lab doors. He rushed in, with Ororo right behind him, only to see your body go up in flames.

“NO!” He hurried forward only to be pushed back as your flames suddenly grew. “Y/N!”

“Storm!” Hank shouted. “Can you put her out?”

Storm shook her head. “I don’t know if I should.”

“Someone do something!” Logan yelled.

Abruptly, the flames that had engulfed you disappeared, leaving behind a heap of ashes where your body once was. Logan reached out, hands trembling over your ashes, before collapsing to the ground.

“No,” he breathed out. “No…”

Hank looked down, shoulders slumped as Ororo covered her mouth in shock. The two watched as Logan let a few tears trickle down his cheeks before his jaw clenched and his eyes closed. His hand found the dog tags tucked underneath his leather suit and tore them from around his neck. Logan’s eyes snapped open, with a cold, determined look in them. He stood up and tossed the dog tags onto the pile of ashes. Spinning around, Logan marched out of the room.

“Logan!” Ororo called after him, Hank following. “Where are you going?”

“This is not my home,” he sneered. “Not without Y/N.”

“That’s not true,” she shook her head, trying to get in front of the man. When she did, he simply stepped around her. “This can be your home. We care about you.”

“There’s nothing for me here anymore.”

“Logan, please… we all have lost enough. We need each other.”

“I do better alone.”

“No, you don’t,” Hank responded. “Don’t go, Logan.”

Logan paused for a brief moment, thinking about you. He was sure you wouldn't want him to be alone. But you weren’t here to stop him.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled before heading upstairs.

Ororo and Hank didn’t bother going after him, knowing that it was hard to change Logan’s mind. And that Logan needed time to mourn your death.

~~~

A week passed since the Battle of Alcatraz Island. Jean had been buried with both her and Scott given memorials next to Charles’. No one was ready to give you one yet. No one had set foot in the lab since you had turned to ash.

Rogue, now going by Marie, returned having taken the cure. She and Bobby finally got to touch, but her biggest concern was Logan.

Though no one had officially followed Logan, they had heard that he was at a nearby bar, drinking and fighting his way through his grief. Ororo and Hank made sure to keep tabs on Logan by bribing bar regulars and did their best to keep Marie from going to Logan. He wasn’t okay, and no one wanted her to see him like that.

“The President wants me to be the new ambassador to the United Nations,�� Hank told Ororo one night. They were sitting in the Professor’s office, often finding themselves there at night when they couldn’t sleep. “He wants me in DC tomorrow to announce it.”

“You should go,” Ororo encouraged. “You’ve helped out so much. You need to get back to your own life.”

Hank nodded. “I should clean up the lab before I go.”

“We should put the ashes in an urn. Logan may want them one day.”

“Okay… I just wish I could understand what happened to her. Why did her healing abilities stop working? How did she turn to ash?”

“I do, too. For Logan’s sake.”

“Keep me updated on him, will you?”

“Of course.”

Hank wished Ororo goodnight and headed downstairs to find something to clean your ashes into. He immediately froze at the door when he arrived. The ash pile had grown, with a similar shape to yours. Slowly, he moved closer. All of a sudden, you gasped, shooting up. The ashes fell off of you and onto the floor, revealing your naked body.

“Oh, my— Y/N!” Hank exclaimed. 

He grabbed the lab coat from a nearby chair and rushed to your side. He draped it over your shoulders as he began to take in your form. There were no scars on your skin. It was like brand new.

“What—“ you cut yourself off with a cough. “What happened?” You glanced around the room. “Where’s Logan?”

“What do you last remember?” Hank asked.

“Uh… we were at Alcatraz Island. I was injured, I think… Jean got a hold of me, and then nothing.”

“Well, you died.”

“What?”

“You died a week ago.”

“No,” you shook your head. “That’s not possible.”

“I know, but somehow you died, and then when we got you back here, your body went up in flames. You turned to ash.”

“That’s… insane.” You looked around again, finally noticing the dog tags in your lap. You carefully picked them up. “These are mine and Logan’s. Where is he?”

Hank sighed. “He left after you turned to ash.”

Your heart dropped. “He left?”

“Yes, but we’ve been informed that he’s at a nearby bar, drinking away and cage fighting.”

“I have to go get him.” You scrambled off the table, the lab coat slipping off you.

“Uh, Y/N?”

“What?”

“You may want to put some clothes on.”

You looked down to find yourself naked. You picked up the lab coat and wrapped it around yourself. “Right. Thanks.”

“Be careful. Logan’s not okay.”

“That’s why I can’t waste another second.”

next chapter >

[pricegouge]

Humor Me (Even When it's Ruining Me)

part two

masterlist | taglist: pricegouged

babysitter!reader x single dad!price

cw: fem reader. implied age gap. nothing specific beyond reader being legal. alcohol. reader is a brat and john's having a lot of fun with it. inappropriate work flirting lmao. also i beefed john up cause i could. daddy kink. MDNI

Banner by @/cafekitsune

Chapter two

Three weeks later and you don't quite know what's happened, or who you even are anymore. You're waspish and short, run ragged between classes and the two families you've somehow managed to become employed for. They're nice enough to coordinate between themselves, most nights - Kate reaching out with a schedule the two of them have agreed on that lets you manage both kids at once. That doesn't mean they can always get their kids under the same roof for you, their schedules always too full to manage the drive across town. As if yours is any better.

The tentative routine you've fallen into is easy enough on paper, attending morning class before heading over to the Laswell's and doing most of your classwork there, even attending an online lesson once a week because Colin is a little angel who can remain calm as long as you are, but it all goes pretty much to shit the second you embark to pick up Emily from preschool around midafternoon, loading Colin into the carseat the Laswells very generously bought for you. 

(Between the fact that it stays belted into your car twentyfour seven now because you don't trust yourself to reinstall it properly without the weirdly mechanical tests John used to ensure its safety when he set it up the first time and the fact that Colin can occasionally be heard cooing in the background of your more interactive lessons, there's definitely a rumor going around campus that you have a baby. You're not sure how you feel about it, but it does tend to keep the more annoying boys at arm's length so you haven't really gone out of your way to correct it quite yet. Emily's booster gets stored in your trunk, though. You don't quite want to know what kind of leper you'd become if your classmates thought you'd been on Sixteen and Pregnant.) 

The girl is… tougher. Well behaved but boisterous, moody at times. Her rambunctiousness is infectious, gets Colin worked up from the confines of his seat in a way he doesn't usually wind down from for hours while Emily prattles on about her day and waves glittery crafts at you, leaving your car looking like a bad drag hangover, still-tacky finger paints smearing like lipstick stains on your upholstery. 

(This is why Emily's booster stays in the trunk, there's already enough misleading evidence all over your car.)

(This is why John doesn't pick up his own daughter, you're fairly sure, and you've half a mind to install a glitter bomb in his glove box as revenge.)

You don't always have to watch the girl, John's evening schedule an unfixed thing, but Emily always seems excited to see you pulling up, as if she knows that her father works even when he's home. It's why you try to stay patient with her when her boundless energy riles the baby up, or when her incessant need for attention prevents you from finishing papers on time. It's not her fault, but it is slowly driving you insane.

Gina helps out when she can, usually bringing dinner for everyone when she stops by the Price's to pick up her kid in the early evening. Sometimes she even stays for a bit, helps keep Emily entertained while you streamline the bedtime routine with hopes of finishing up homework after she tucks in for the night. It's a valiant effort made by all, but the girl doesn't often play along, much too busy antagonizing you to bother showering in a timely manner. There are nights you think of her more like a little sister than a client, the way she picks on you. You feed it right back in your darker hours, when having every minute of your day planned out and consumed weighs on you, giving you teeth. You'd made her cry once by mistake, your tone more than your words themselves needling under her skin until she burst into tears, hid in her room until her father came home. There'd been an odd sense of relief to it, balancing out the panic of a bad review. Sure, you'd be fired and no one would want to hire you ever again if John used that one app where you got most of your odd jobs, but at least the Laswells wouldn't give you up and you could return to your regular schedule. But when Mr. Price got home that evening, he'd only listened to his whiny daughter with a soft smile, kissing her on the forehead before telling you both that he 'Wished his girls would get along.'

You can see where Emily gets it from, her ability to drive you insane, but where the girl is loud and prickly or candy-sweet by turns, a constant one man crew of Guess Who, her father is a steady, low stream abrading you, the funnel where he slips through your cells eroding until he's a constant bubbling under your skin. He's incorrigible, insidious, shameless. 

Escalating, lock step with you.

You still haven't returned his shirt. Well, technically you had - once. Worn it that Wednesday, the first time he'd asked you back. You'd done it with every intention of teasing him a little, noting you'd need a replacement if he wanted it back now, and changing out of it before leaving for the night. He'd turned it on your head with a simple 'You could always just take it off,' before you'd even been able to reveal your plan to give it back to him. 

He should have expected you to retaliate after that, returning home with it once more. It's remained safe in your dresser ever since, one less avenue for him to come barrelling down the center of, catching you in his headlights like a deer too scared to run. And if keeping it means you get to wear it to bed sometimes, so be it. That's his fault, too, always texting you so late to 'make sure you got back okay.' It's possible he's being gentlemanly, but that would be a first so you refuse to believe it, assume instead that he wants to make you think of him when you're climbing into bed each night. Like you need the help, like you haven't already worn the scent off his shirt. Sometimes you think about weaseling another one from him, or wonder how long it would take him to notice if you outright stole one. You know which room is his, have caught glimpses through the cracked door sometimes when following Emily up to her room. He never shuts it, too trusting. You probably would've already gotten yourself off on his pillow like a bitch in heat if he hadn't let slip early on that Emily sometimes likes to sleep in his bed when he's away. 'Think she misses me sometimes,' his voice was sad but the leer he gave you as he continued was anything but. 'She's allowed, if she wants.'

The next day he mentioned Emily falls asleep quickest when someone lies down with her to read her story. Your papers continue going unwritten, the girl wandering out of her bedroom late into the night because you refuse to start the habit when you know how it will end.

It's unsustainable, feels like you're circling the drain. But the money is great. 

While the Laswells had never been stingy, John pays you like a dental surgeon each time he needs you. That same exorbitant rate from the first night, now with a prepaid gas card he seems very uninterested in monitoring the spending of. You'd be tempted to test your theory if you had time, take a road trip out to your parents or something just to see if it ever got declined. Sometimes you fantasize about it at night, texting him an SOS and a picture of your gas gauge on E. It's embarrassing how often he shows up to save the day in your daydreams now, racing to your side in his gleaming Lexus to refuel your car with a suggestive smile, working the nozzle past your intake valve like he's slipping into a wet cunt. 

You should probably get laid, but who has the time? Especially given your… situation. 

(Your situation being there is no situation. Never has been one. Virginal as the day you were born save for some over-the-pants heavy petting in high school and a rotation of cheap drug store vibes you usually end up abandoning for your own fingers because dear god, you'd think you'd have learned after the first wasted investment but up until now, with John's much needed help, you haven't really been in a position to just spend on sex toys all willy nilly and while yeah, sure, you are now, every time you go to spend his money on an imitation cock you can't help thinking might look like his, you suddenly remember you're only here because you can't put your big girl panties on and -.)

It takes time, is the problem. You don't need the whole blanket under the stars treatment, but you at least want some evidence that you're not going to get jackhammered into the mattress by some selfish, overeager boy who wouldn't know how to get you off if you gave him a manual. But evidence takes time to gather, takes meetups in frat parties you have no interest in attending, and makeout sessions smelly couches just to see if your partner knows how to use their tongue. And for all his provisions, John (John.) has made well and truly certain that the one thing you don't have, is in fact time.

>Need you tonight.

The vibration of your phone against the library desk is loud as a gunshot, the message itself ringing in your ears just as bad. You placed your phone back on the table and sent your deskmate, a handsome senior named Paul who'd been your unofficial Saturday morning library pal for the last two semesters, an apologetic glance.

Paul just waved his hand at you dismissively, a small smile tugging at his lips. With his head bowed into his fourth edition of a rather intimidating neuroscience textbook that gave you anxiety just looking at it, the only way you could tell he wasn't annoyed by your antics at all was the dimpling of his cheeks. It distracted you momentarily, the urge to nibble at the fat there sudden and overwhelming, then your phone vibrated again because you'd been too distracted to silence it and you snatched it back up with an annoyed huff, ready to tell your employer off about disturbing your Sacred Saturday, your one day off a week. 

(Again.)

> I know what day it is but it's an emergency.

> I'll make it up to you.

< how so?

You chew your lip waiting for a response, the bubbling typing indicator roiling like your stomach. It's always like this, texting with John - every response teetering on too much. It's why you usually prefer to coordinate with the Laswells as much as possible, minimizing your discussions with Mr. Price to those late night 'Did you make it home okay?' messages. 

(And sending him a photo evidence that his shirt was still safe and in your care once.

If you'd been wearing it at the time, snuggled up in bed and haloed in warm fairy lights with the hem riding a little high, that was his fault for asking after it so late.)

Tap, tap, tap.

Across from you, Paul drums his pen off the spiral notebook that sits between you, a custom since your third week sitting together. It's blank aside from your brief, handwritten conversations as far as you can tell, an accessory Paul seems to carry around for this express purpose, evidently preferable to just asking for your number so you can text each other to get around the strict no talking policy in the quietest lounge of the library. In the year or so since you've met him, you've never heard Paul talk, all of your correspondences reduced to the notebook which he draws your attention to now, his tidy scrawl asking a simple but damning question: 'Who's the guy?'

You shake your head, instinctual - automatic. Paul crooks an unimpressed brow at you and underlines his original question. 

'Just some guy I work for, why?'

Paul smirks when he reads it but turns serious in response, waving at your overall demeanor as if that answers everything.

In your palm, your phone gives a muted buzz and you have to physically swallow back the urge to check it immediately. You roll your eyes at Paul instead. A poor excuse for the frustration you want to unleash, but opening the valve even a hair was better than just letting it build.

His scrawl is neat when Paul responds. Unaffected, calm. 'You've got a crush.' And then below that, its own paragraph: 'Should I be worried?'

It takes a moment for the words to register, the moment dragging out too long before your eyes dart up to your deskmate. Paul winks, scheming and sly, and your jaw hinges open in shock.

Bzzz. Bzzz. Bzzz.

"Shit," you hiss, scrambling out of your seat as your phone continues to vibrate with an incoming call. John's contact lights the screen, the stupid money bag emoji you'd used for him mocking you. You wait until you make it to the stairwell to answer to avoid the worst of the librarian's wrath, though she still shoots you a disapproving glare as you stalk past her post. You've half a mind to let the stairwell door slam behind you, but it would echo louder than your anger and you want John to hear every word when you accept the call.

"I am at the library," you hiss by way of greeting, as if that perfectly illustrates why you're so annoyed with him.

John just grunts, uninterested. "Are you available or not tonight? I need an answer ASAP so I can make plans if you're -."

"I'm off on Saturdays."

A beat passes as John recollects, evidently unused to being interrupted. "Right. Which is why I offered to pay you double your regular rate."

Confused, you check your texts to read the one you'd missed, too busy being chatted up by a cute boy much more appropriately aged. In it, John pleads desperately with you: offers twice your pay, dinner, anything you want.

You think of Paul's cute dimples, the way he's known you for a year without asking for your number. You think of John covered in shaving cream, his first words to you a joke about how desperate you looked - how desperate you both looked.

Hand pressed to your forehead, you shut your eyes and ask what time John needs you.

"Oh, thank you so much, sweetheart. A real lifesaver. I promise I'll make it up to you, just tell me how, okay? And as for tonight, no later than seventeen hundred, please - though honestly you can come by anytime, I'm sure Emily will be happy to see you."

Emily. Right. "Well I'm at the library for a reason, so -."

"You can use my study, of course. The munchkin knows better than to bug me when I'm in there."

Unbidden, you imagine pestering John yourself when he's lounged in some fancy modern desk chair, leather and broad. You bet his study smells like tobacco, that there's a bar cart in the corner. You imagine him using your mouth like a tumbler of whiskey, punishment for running it too much. He'd drink from your lips whenever he -.

"But I suppose I don't have all those useful resources like textbooks… well, consider it a standing offer."

"S-sure, Mr. Price. Thanks."

"Of course. I'll see you later, then?"

"Yes, sir."

On the other end of the line, John's breath stutters. His voice is low when he signs off, blunt and direct. Doesn't wait to hear your response. "Be good, sweetheart."

***

You're not entirely sure what being good constitutes, but you're fairly sure using John's emergency credit card Emily located for you in the freezer to Instacart approximately one day's minimum wage worth of junk food because Emily had been sad and despondent all day wasn't it. Nor was letting her dance her sugar rush off to less than appropriate music, probably, but it was worth it to see her smiling again after the fit she'd thrown when her father had left for the evening. You're both sweaty and breathless now, collapsing onto the couch between songs to shovel more M&Ms into your mouths and make fun of each other's dance moves. Emily says you use too much arm movements, but she's only four and thinks hopscotch skips are the new craze so you ask what she knows anyway and laugh at the way she rolls her eyes at you.

John's talkative too, apparently, the unexpected clients he'd been urgently called in to entertain evidently not holding his attention. He's never exactly radio silent when you've got his kid in your charge, but he usually lets you take the lead (pepper him with stupid questions you already know the answer to just to find an excuse to distract him because maybe you kinda like how short he gets) on those nights.

(Despite this standard, you don't feel the need to tell him you'd managed to read his credit card number through the brick of crystalline ice he'd cleverly hidden it in. You hope he's really short when he figures that stunt out.)

Tonight, however, it's John peppering you with questions. They start out innocent enough, asking after his daughter because he felt bad leaving her on a night that he'd promised to be home and he could see how much it upset her. Those questions peter out when you send him a picture of her all giggly and wound up, her hair freshly braided in a style she said he's too clumsy to accomplish for her. With confirmation that his daughter was feeling better, John's texts turn rapidly back to you.

> And how about you, sweetheart? Are you doing better?

< wym, better?

> What do you mean, wym?

< har har

> I mean you were rather short with me earlier. Are you still upset with me?

> I promise I also don't want to be working on a Saturday, for what it's worth.

< not mad

< just seems like you're not really needed with how much you're blowing up my phone

> Honestly, no. This is a waste of both our time.

> Have you decided how I can make it up to you, at least?

Actually, you hadn't even thought of it, figuring he was just being exaggerative - that he'd pay you your exorbitant rate and be done with it, send you on your way with your thoughts all twisted after some more growled insinuations and a pat on your ass, probably. He seemed like he was maybe two visits away from trying his luck, anyway.

Maybe you could ask for it sooner. Clear the air, finally feel his hands on you. You tell him you don't want anything, clarify nothing he can give you when he calls that out for being a lie.

> Sure about that? I can help with most things.

And the thing is, he's right. There are a lot of things you want. You want to get a better grade on your next econ assignment, you want a full night's sleep. You want to have free time, pick up a hobby. You have a growing desire to learn how to make the perfect pasta after seeing her scarf so many lackluster take out spaghetti bolognaise dishes. The solution was obvious, though one you knew he wouldn't want to hear.

< okay. i want more free time

> So quit with the Laswells.

It draws you up short, Emily bouncing around you unawares. It's one thing to suspect John's - your - end game, but another thing to see it batted around so casually. It makes you feel taken advantage of, guided in a way you don't necessarily appreciate. The Laswells were your first real, well-paying gig, your ticket to independence. You didn't relish the thought of abandoning them and you certainly didn't like to be coerced into the decision. 

But John did pay very well.

< just like that?

John's answer is far too quick, the status changing directly from read to answered with a speed that suggested he may have had a response drafted already which he simply copy/pasted. 

> It would make the most sense. I can pay well enough to make up for the lost income, plus my schedule works better with your classes. 

> Honestly, I'm surprised you even lasted as long as you did with them.

< i wouldn't want to let them down…

> Nonsense, I'm sure they'd understand. You're a busy girl with a full schedule, afterall.

So were they - the whole reason you'd been working for them so long. 

< i don't think i could quit on them. kate scares me.

> I'll take care of Kate, okay? No need to worry. I owe you one anyway, remember?

>Just let Daddy handle it.

It takes you a minute, the words somehow too natural to trip you up. Before you, Emily screeches happily about some cartoon that's maybe a touch too old for her and you think to yourself that she's going to sleep good tonight, all tuckered out as you know she's going to be and then you nearly drop your phone in your rush to chastise him, or run your mouth like you always do, or maybe double down on your request.

But the words don't come. Every time you manage to string two whole thoughts together it peters out, the textual manifestation of the gaping anime gasp he's managed to draw from you as you imagine him watching your typing bubbles appear and fizzle over and over again. If he's watching, of course, but he's a busy man so maybe -.

This time when your phone buzzes, there's no threat of a scolding librarian to keep your yelp suppressed. Just the odd look Emily shoots you before being distracted by her brightly colored show again, turning away from you disinterestedly as you excuse yourself to the kitchen.

"Mr. Price?"

"Do I make you uncomfortable?"

"S- sorry?"

His voice is calmer when he repeats himself, the same tone he uses on his daughter when she's too fidgety to listen. "Do I make you uncomfortable?"

And that answer is easy because the flutter in your tummy you get whenever his words grow a little too overt is not discomfort, so the answer comes easily, if quietly. "No."

"Do you want me to stop?"

Through the fog of your fluster, you remember Paul and his glacial pace, the cat calls from boys you've never met before and have no interest in. This is different. This is good. "No."

The breath John lets out doesn't sound like he's been holding it, more a pleased sigh than anything, accompanied by a low hum. "Good girl. Appreciate you telling me. Is this something you want?"

"I just said -?"

"Not wanting me to stop and wanting something to follow through to its logical conclusion are not the same things. Is this something you want?"

The question grates - the notion that he would think of this all as a waste of time if you didn't know you wanted him, maybe. "Hadn't thought about it. You only just -," You counter vehemently, but John just laughs, a heavy burst of breath through his nose. It catches in his mustache - wind cutting through the grass.

"If I were to come home tonight to find you sleeping on my couch and decided to wake you up all sweetly and softly, would that be alright?"

You picture yourself sleep-soft and pliant, heavy hands soothing over your flank as John's rough voice coaxes you awake. "Yes," you breathe.

He hums approvingly. "And if I were to wake you with my tongue in your cunt, would that be too much?"

"John -!" you hiss, scandalized.

"Try again."

A beat passes where you try to smother the pit of nerves in your stomach. "Mr. Price."

"Better. Answer the question, sweetheart."

"Mr. Price, I -." You huff a breath, take advantage of the fact he can't see you to visibly straighten your spine, steel yourself. "Mr. Price, what do you want?"

He doesn't miss a beat. "Easy. I've wanted to bend you over every available surface since you first barged into my bathroom and hinged yourself over that sink."

"I didn't."

"I want to keep that clever little mouth of yours quiet by stuffing it full of my cock. But I also want to hear you complain about what a brat my daughter's been all night because you're cute when you're mad. I want to come home and know what the two of you grabbed for dinner by licking it off your teeth." He pauses to give you an opening, notes your silence, and continues in a much softer voice. "And I want you to be able to focus on school a little better."

You can't manage anything better than a soft oh, and John's responding laugh is a low rumble, voice deceptively soft when he continues - the same voice he uses on Emily when she's too tired to behave properly. You wonder if his colleagues can hear him again, wonder if that's just how he's going to speak to you regardless.

"The question, sweetheart."

"I would like that, Mr. Price."

John's silent in the beat that passes, a hinge creaking open spilling ambient chatter in the background. He'd been sequestered, which means that last tone was only meant for you. "I'll see you tonight, kiddo. Behave for Daddy, yeah?"

[starkeygirls]

i n v i s i b l e s t r i n g

chapter 1

rafe cameron x pogue!reader

summary: really bad at these!

wc: 2.5k

warning: none! i haven't written in a while, this is a rewrite of a story that i started in 2020, so please bare with me as i get back in the groove of writing.

a/n: guess who's back, back again. determined to finish this series. rafe and sofia in s4 really inspired me to get back into this fic, hope you all like it ◡̈ pls reblog/comment/etc.. would love to hear your thoughts ◡̈

______________________________________________________________

Sometimes you really fit into Figure 8. Sometimes you all did. Like when John B was off with Sarah and he was wearing the clothes that she had bought him to go out golfing or go to brunch at the yacht club. Or when Kie was dragged to a kook event by her parents at the country club. Pope wore his suit when he had different scholarship and college interviews- and he really gave the kook boys a run for their money with how good he looked in his steamed suit. JJ was the least likely to really look like he would ever fit in on Figure 8, and that was because he never wanted to. He reserved his ‘money suit’, as he called it, for when he had to work as a busboy, and occasionally picked up other gigs. You, however, were fitting in more often than you would have liked. 

You tucked your white cashmere sweater into your long, green pleated skirt. Letting out a small huff as you sprayed your perfectly curled hair one more time. Throwing your purse over your shoulder, you trudged down your hallway, your sneakers cost more than $400. You could still remember how your jaw dropped when you saw the pricetag, and apparently the kooks ate these shoes up. They needed them in every color, every new style that came out. It was madness, if you were being honest. It was like they were just giving away money. 

That’s what it seemed like, at least. You had been working at a retail store in the main strip of Figure 8 for over a year now. It was the only way you could afford the clothes you were wearing. You got a steep discount off the price, and you knew how to shop sales better than anyone. 

Your kook masquerade was always squished the moment you walked out to your car. The old beat up Honda that was always parked out front was nothing like what a kook would drive. It was too old. A 2005? The kooks didn’t know what anything from that year was- maybe only their participation trophies from little league that had the year engraved, that was about it. 

Unlocking the car, you tossed your bag onto the passenger seat, closing the door and buckling up your seatbelt. 

“Please start, Hilda..” You mumbled, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath as your hand turned the key in the ignition. She did, as usual- but you would never forget the time that she broke down. You cried for the ten minutes it took John B and JJ to rescue you. They were like your own little mechanics. Pope had called you in the car for the ten minutes while you sobbed and tried to calm you down- it didn’t work. Nothing worked until you saw your car fixed. You still owed them for saving your ass that day, regardless of how many times they assured you it was really nothing.

Crossing over the bridge from The Cut to Figure 8, you sighed: traffic. You knew by now the traffic was always bad as you headed into the main strip of town. It was the most popular place. Coffee shops, restaurants, stores.. Who wouldn’t be there if they had the money and time? Yeah, the coffee was overpriced and no one knew how to drive in their expensive cars, but it was still nice. Nicer than The Cut where people revved their engines when you scurried across the street.

–

It took you a half hour to finally pull into the parking lot behind your store. Saturdays were always the worst traffic wise, but boy, was it a good sales day. Checking the time, you bit your lip as you contemplated running to the cafe a few shops down to get a coffee. Technically you had time- you were always early. You had a fear of being late if you were being honest. You knew it looked bad, and it wasn’t hard for you to just leave a little early for wherever you were going. It took you two minutes to walk to the cafe, and you would give yourself ten minutes to be in the cafe, another two minutes to walk back, and you had twenty minutes until you had to clock in. What if the cafe was busy? What if it took you fifteen minutes in there? 

You slammed the car door and walked towards the Cove Cafe. The bell dinged as you walked in, a smile pressed to your lips as you pushed your sunglasses to your head. It wasn’t busy. What a relief. You smiled at the barista as you walked up to the counter. You and Gabriella had become good friends from your constant stops to the overpriced coffee shop. 

“The usual?” She asked with a grin, scribbling onto the cup as you nodded your head. You still had ten minutes to get back to the shop before you had to clock in. You smiled and waved back to Gabriella as you left the shop, sipping on the drink that had become a staple to your routine.

–

This Saturday was not a good day for sales. The weather must’ve been too nice, or everyone had gone to the mainland. The traffic you had fought through died down, and the small shop was deserted. Main Street in general was deserted. You and your co-worker, Abigail were basically staring at each other for four hours. It was painful at this point. You both had resorted to hiding off to the side hall to watch Netflix shows, peering your heads out when you heard the door open. 

Most of the time it was one or two people wandering in- usually tourons who just looked around and pulled you away from the show. It was your turn to walk out there when the door dinged, watching as two people walked in. Your eyes squinted as you looked to the security camera before heading out from behind the curtain. 

You tried to hide your surprise- and disgust- as your eyes glanced over to see Topper Thorton and Rafe Cameron in the small store. What did they want? Were they making rounds because Sarah was complaining about something John B had said? You knew it wasn’t a good idea John B was hanging around her. Were they threatening your group? 

Was it too late to shove Abigail out here? Was it too late to lock the doors and pretend you never opened? Were you allowed to not greet them? Spit in their faces? 

“Do you have this in a large?” Rafe’s question knocked you from your thoughts, blinking a few times before you furrowed your brows. 

“Let me go check for you.” You smiled at the two boys before heading behind the curtain where Abigail was. “How did I get so unlucky to have to deal with Topper and Rafe? How come you got a Hollywood directors cousin and I get two assholes who aren’t going to spend any money?” A groan escaped your lips before you brought yourself down the stairs to the stockroom. 

– 

“So you’re going to take the three shirts, the sweater and the two pants and then we’re going to order you the polo in the salmon color, and the sneakers, right?” You ran by him one more time. 

“Yeah, and ship it to the store if you can.” Rafe nodded, tapping his American Express Platinum card against the wooden counter. You nodded, typing away on the ipad register. It was a relief to finally be getting them out of the store, though they were a lot less of a pain then you had originally thought they would be. In fact, they were really respectful a complete 180 from what you were used to experiencing. They had hung back up everything they had tried on, and made sure to get a full glance of everything they could want in a different size or color before making you run to the stockroom once they were aware it was in a basement.

The only awkward part of the whole interaction was when you had absentmindedly walked back to the fitting rooms and saw Rafe shirtless as he spoke to Topper about the shirt he had on. 

“Pants fit well.” You awkwardly smiled, diverting your eyes from Rafe’s toned chest. You didn’t hate having them in the store, and he was about to drop a lot of money which was only going to be more money in your pocket.

“You’re all set. Everything should be here by Wednesday the latest. I’ll give you a call when they get here.” You smiled, watching him tap the heavy card against the card reader. His blue eyes glanced up to meet your own eyes. 

“Could you text me, actually? The number on file is my cell.” Your eyes glanced to Topper as he smirked, eyes glancing your way. To be honest, you were surprised. It wasn’t like you weren’t allowed to text customers for outreach or order updates- but it was the look Rafe was giving you, it was the smirk Topper had plastered to his face, it was the way Rafe was leaning on the counter. 

–

“And then as if spending an hour with them wasn’t bad enough, he asked me to text him when his order got to the store!” You were pacing in the living room of the chateau. You had driven straight there after work, it was a bit of a usual for all of you. After work on Saturdays, everyone would meet at the chateau and unwind, usually a beer or two, and pizza. 

“Why are you dressed like you’re from the 60’s?” JJ asked, as if he hadn’t been looking at you for the past fifteen minutes you had been ranting. 

“That isn’t the point, idiot.” Kiara chimed in, shaking her head at JJ’s comment. “Love the sweater by the way.” She smiled. 

“Dude, it retails for like three hundred, I almost threw up when a woman asked me where it was in the store the last time I wore it and then she bought it in the three colors we have.” You smiled back, finally plopping onto the couch next to JJ. His eyes were wide as he looked to your sweater, before petting it. 

“Fuck, it’s soft.” 

“It’s cashmere and get your grubby hands off of it. You probably have oil or beer on your hands, and it’s dry clean only.” Your hand smacked at his.

“So when’s your first date with Rafe.” JJ teased, a groan leaving your lips as your head fell back.

“Where the hell did a date even come into this? If he gets my number that’s just another way to threaten us.” 

“I wish John B and Sarah were here to hear all this.. Sarah would lose it.” Kie laughed. “But, we would probably get to the bottom of it. She would just text him and see what was up. Either we’re overthinking it, or we’re perfectly on track for whatever his twisted mind is thinking.” 

“So are you going to wear cashmere on your date with him? Do you think he’ll pay?” JJ continued, a grin planted to his face. He wasn’t going to let it die down, which you should have expected. Jeez, where was Pope, John B and Sarah when you needed them? 

– 

Your fingers hovered over your phone after you had texted Rafe, the chat bubble signaling he was responding - and fast. There was no need to be nervous about whatever he was saying, it was your job, after all. Texting him as he requested for the order he placed - you hadn’t done anything wrong or out of the ordinary. 

You jumped a bit feeling your phone vibrate in your hand, eyes scanning the text saying he would probably show up right before you closed because he was busy. Your lips pulled into a tight line, preparing yourself to have to stay past close. You hearted the message without even thinking, all sense of professionalism threw itself out the window. “Fuck,” you muttered under your breath, too late now to undo what had been done. 

–

The store was in nearly perfect condition, you had told Abigail to head home, that you would wait out Rafe’s arrival on your own, assuring her he would surely only be about 5-10 minutes. You finger spaced the racks twice, re-folded your tables and even dusted off the mannequins as you waited for his arrival. It was now thirty minutes past close, the doors had been locked, your fingers tapped along the desk as a sigh escaped your lips, eyes rolling. Pulling your phone out of pocket, your fingers fired off a message to Rafe. 

hey! i’ve gotta close up, we’re open from 9-7 tomorrow, just tell the associate you’re picking up :) 

Grabbing your things from the back, your keys twirled around your fingers, jumping as a figure was looking into the glass doors of the store. A gasp escaped your lips as your eyes looked to Rafe’s, a smile pressed to his lips as he caught the panic course through your body. A small debate ran through your brain, should you even let him have his things? He should and could wait until the following day. Teach him a lesson on being punctual. 

His hand knocked on the door, smile still pressed tight to his lips. It was almost cocky, like he knew that you would let him in. Before even making a conscious decision, your feet were carrying you to the door and unlocking it. 

“Maybe we should add a watch to your order, seems like you could use it.” Your tone was a bit harsher than you intended, but at this point, he was wasting your time. Holding the door open, you quickly locked it after he entered. 

“I’m only thirty minutes late.” 

“You knew when we closed, you’re abusing my kindness.” 

“Is that what you call the attitude?” Your eyes were glaring at this point, feet carrying you quickly to the back where Rafe’s items were packaged neatly, a bow around the handle of the bag and all. Grabbing it, you gasped yet again as he had been closer to the curtain to the back than anticipated. A chuckle escaping his lips. “You look like a deer in headlights.” 

“Can you just take your things and go? I’ve spent enough time in this store.” A huff escaped your lips as you shoved the bag to Rafe, already walking towards the front door to escort him out. “And don’t worry, I’ll send you watches during my next shift so you can work on being on time.” 

“So you want to see me again?” Rafe’s eyebrows raised, smirk pressing to his lips. He clearly was in no rush to leave, or leave without frustrating you any bit he could. 

“Right now I would love nothing more than to watch you leave, Rafe.” Unlocking the door, and opening it you motion for him to leave, your patience growing thin as he took his time walking from the store. “Thanks for shopping with us today.” You mutter before closing the door behind him and locking it. 

–

Scrolling through your phone, a text pulled your brows together. 

so, how’d i look walking away?

[mr-ys-phantasma]

🌙 Moon Phases 🌙

Agatha Harkness X Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1683

Chapter 36:

Lilia placed the card in the middle, at the space of the Traveler; the card representing her in this passage. "Impathetic, intuitive, inner voice to be trusted."

"Yes, you're a mensch, Lilia" Agatha commented, observing the sword filled ceiling that was still coming down; alas at a slower pace than before but it did not seem it would stop anytime soon. "

But let's say we place a card."

"No sword." You commented next, realizing that at least nothing was flying towards you; which never expected to count it as a relief in your prolonged life.

"If she got the card right, why doesn't the ceiling stop?" Jen questioned, her worry growing the closer the ceiling was coming down; the closer those swords were to her and the rest of you.

Lilia pulled the next card. "Three of Pentacles. Collaboration, Community, I needed you... my coven, " Immediately, she got a flash of the list she wrote for Agatha.

The names she had listed as the coven members Agatha needed.

Lilia Calderu

Jennifer Kale

Agatha Harkness

Alice Wu...

A black heart...

And no other name...

As she focused on the present, she came to realize that your name was never on the list. Before she could question it, before she could try to figure it out; her hand went for the next card.

"The Path Behind... The Knight of Wands. Full of fire. Fights bravely." She announced loudly as she placed the card down, getting momentarily flash of Alice's sacrifice in saving Agatha from the vengeful spirit of her evil mother.

Billy, the taller of the group and also the one with those huge black horns on his head; was the first who had to bend and try to avoid his impalement.

"We're running out of time." He exclaimed.

Lilia pulled the next card. "The Path Ahead...High Priestess. Immense spiritual power, unable or unwilling to use it." As she placed the card at its respective place on the spread, she got flames of her first meeting with Jen; the background of a banner the same as her card.

"Don't stop, Lilia!" Jen, the main subject of this momentarily memory, encouraged the older witch; with whom she had surprisingly bonded during their little time in the tunnels.

"Obstacles..." Lilia pulled the next card, but as she did, an extra card left the deck and slowly levitated towards the floor. She noticed, but her mind quickly focused on the card in her hands. "Three of Swords. Heartbreak, sorrow, grief." She remembered the moment Teen almost died; a devastated Agatha holding his head; three branches behind her crossing her the same way they crossed the card.

"Agatha!" You called and pulled her lower, forcing her to bend since, for a moment, had forgotten she had thay ridiculous pointy hat on top of her head.

Lilia heard the cries of worry but remained focused, close in finishing the spread. "The Windfall...Tower reversed. Disaster, destruction, sudden upheaval, but reversed, it means miraculous transformation." A quick flash of the Barmichva of Willliam and the shot of the tower reversed in her glass sphere. And with shaky hands, she pulled the last card. "And finally, the Destination..."

The sight of the card, so familiar and yet so haunting, made her gasp. She remembered the tunnels, the Ouija Board spelling a certain word... she remembered the summoning, she remembered the day she found her own maestro's body... and the figure standing behind it.

And she remembered the ways a certain Green Witch looked at you... the familiarity that seemed to exist... and the polarity represented.

"....death..." Lilia exclaimed and managed to place the card down, stopping the sword inches from harming her and her coven.

With the spread done, the ceiling started to go up again, and you could not help but chuckle faintly in relief; your hand holding Agatha's tightly for a moment longer.

"Lilia, you did it. You saved us." Jen exclaimed, almost feeling the need to hide the coocky old witch with troublesome powers.

However, it was you who had noticed that look on her face; one of shock and slight fear.

"What happened?" You asked, feeling she saw something that startled her enough and most likely concerned all of you as a group.

"Rio... she's Death." Lilia explained, still trying to process everything.

"She's what?" Jen questioned, ensuring she had heard right the first time.

"The original Green Witch."

You pressed your lips to form a thin line as the cat got out of the bag. Though in your and Rio's defence, no one ever denied that Rio was not death.

Simply, no one asked or made the connection; utill now that was.

"Is it true?" Billy asked next as everyone looked at Agatha.

"What can I say? I like the bad boys." She answered them without a moment of hesitation or shame, clearly not minding that she was romantically evolved with the Grimm Reaper.

At her words, you could not help but clear your throat and even pull your hand away from hers; clearly not liking her answer.

It was your turn to feel jealous, and you did not hide it from her or anyone. You had been very patient and understanding, but you were not going to stand around and be insulted like that.

You were before Rio. You were before anyone else...

Agatha frowned at your move, clearly not liking your response. However, she saw the way you crossed your arms halfway, fingers too close and pointing at your shoulder. She saw the look you were giving her; she could not help but roll her eyes at the unnecessary drama.

Honestly, you and Rio had that so much in common. It was becoming both tiresome and slightly worrisome.

"Fine, fine," she exclaimed. "I ike the bad boys and white witches with questionable parenthood backgrounds"

You parted our lips at her answer, clearly not approving of how openly she called you out. It definitely did not help as you could feel Jen's intense gaze on you, holding more suspicion than ever before.

Was this woman ever going to at least stop suspecting you would murder her in her sleep?

Before the topic could be changed to you and what Agatha said; Billy noticed something on the floor close to the table.

"Hey, Lilia; you missed a card," he pointed out and picked it up.

Lilia was reminded how that card was pulled along with the Three of Swords but had fallen to the side. Usually, in tarot, a card falling during shuffling was chosen, but during a spread... it depended.

She took the card from him and slowly lifted it up to her gaze, obscuring you from her vision from it.

"Two of swords..." Lilia recognised the upright card. "Stalemate, divided loyalty, caught in the middle... balance, equally matched..." she lowered the card slowly.

Exactly parallel to the figurine, you stood, and that act seemed to trigger one last memory flash to divination witch.

She remembered the meeting at Agatha's House, how you had your hands folded in a similar way as the crescent moon of a tapestry was in your background.

And here you stood now, in the exact same position. Your hands crossed, your clothes purely white, and that fancy headpiece threatening to fall forward and cover your eyes.

Lilia blinked as she recalled your name not existing on the list and your peculiar connection to both Rio and Agatha.

"Does this mean something? Flying off?" Billy asked.

Lilia kept staring at you in a way that made you feel as if she was looking through you; unfolding all of your locked secrets.

"It's a card that does and does not belong in the spread," she explained, finally adverting her gaze towards the boy. "It does and does not belong in the Obstacles, an unstable presence that can or can not affect the passage of the traveller"

"Helpful," Jen commented.

Suddenly, the grimm and spooky talk was interested by the familiar hissing sound that only Salem Seven could produce.

"We have to go, now!" You exclaimed, earning nods and huma from the others.

"Into the Iron Maiden, quickly!" Lilia instructed, only now making you realize that there were steps and a secret passage behind the now open iron Maiden.

One by one, Lilia ensured her coven went through.

First, if was Billy, and she gave him his little spellbook; which she had found in the tunnels.

Then it was Agatha, who seemed to understand why Lilia was waiting for them to enter. Yet despite everything, Lilia had one last piece of advice left; one that confused Agatha at that moment but would soon be the one thing saving her life.

You were third, Jen even pushing you to go ahead of her; something that surprised you. Jen had always been the first to leave, putting herself first and above all the others.

As you were about to enter, Lilia grabbed your hand; fingers wrapping tightly around the wrist with the moon brithmark.

"Stop holding back." she looked you dead in the eyes. "Face your fear."

Last was Jen, who got some wise words from Lilia as well; making her feel hopeful that her ending in this road would be better than her past the last 100 years.

Just like that, just like the Good Witch in the Wizard of Oz; Lilia played her part.

She gave the scarecrow the brains. She gave Dorothy advice to help finish. To the Lion, she reminded it of the bravery it always looked for... and for the tinman; she restored the missing heart.

A soft smile played on her lips, hands holding the two doors of the Iron Maiden. She looked at her coven, eyes getting misty with tears. "I loved being a witch."

And with those words, she closed the doors and locked them; leaving herself into the room, ready to face the Salem Seven and end them.

Ready to truly save her coven this time. Even at the cost of her own life. She was ready.

As the Ballad said...

I hold Death's hand in mine

Chapter 37

[prodagustd]

surprise | myg

this is an extra chapter of the so it goes series.

—pairing: rapper!yoongi x reader

—rating: +18

—genre: established relationship, ex fwb, angst, fluff

—warnings/tags: implied smut, lots of angst, fluff, subtle talk about aborti0n, DON’T trust my poor knowledge in contraceptive methods and use condoms!! english is not my first language btw

—words: 7.6k

a/note: this is proof that if you ask me enough, I'll finish writing my wips!! it's been a long time but I finally get to post the surprise drabble I've been planning and it makes me sososo happy to come back to this couple 😭 I missed them so much I just hope you missed them as much as I did!! BTW I was planning to post this after two other drabbles, so if you read any additional information it's because this was intended to be posted after that, but i wanted to post this so badly😭 so here it is!! hehe anyway enjoy!!

A few years ago, when you and Yoongi were beginning to be a thing and you still lived with your best friend, Nayeon, while he lived alone in his big apartment, he picked up this habit of begging you to stay the night with him every time you visited, even though he knew you couldn’t. You used to say no, trying hard to ignore the way he kissed your neck and sneaked his hands under your blouse while explaining that, if you said yes, he was willing to wake up early and drive you to your first class the next day. You'd think that after the first or maybe even the second time he tried this, the effect would wear off, but you ended up agreeing every single time.

Back then everything was so new to him, he couldn’t remember the last time he liked someone that much, he didn’t know what was happening to him and why he wanted to spend every night with you, why he couldn’t keep his hands off you. Sure you were pretty, sure you were beautiful and funny, and your lips tasted like strawberries and you looked at him like one else ever did, maybe it had something to do with that, who knew? The only thing he knew was that he felt like a teenager everytime you kissed him, or every time you ran your fingers through his hair or every time you were naked under him, or on top of him, or anywhere close to him for that matter. 

It took Yoongi a few hits, ten drunk nights and way too many days to realize that you were the only thing that he needed, that the world only made sense if you were by his side. 

With time, Yoongi learned to kiss slowly, to make love slowly, to take things with ease; he learned that you were going nowhere, but there were still those moments where he felt he couldn’t get enough of you; like tonight, to be exact. 

You were sure that in the last four years of dating Yoongi you had made it clear enough that you were a city girl, and you were certain your boyfriend knew that. You loved the noise and the chaos—the people bumping into each other on the streets, the busy days and nights. It wasn’t something you planned to give up anytime soon; this was the perfect time in your life to embrace the city's hustle. You’d have plenty of time for a quiet life when you got older.

Yoongi liked the city too—he enjoyed the view from his apartment window and the convenience of ordering food at any hour of the night. But he also loved road trips and sleeping in the middle of nowhere in a tent, bonfires, fishing and swimming in lakes. Yoongi had always been into camping, but instead of planning a trip with his good old friend Seokjin, who didn’t mind sleeping in a tent and loved fishing, he invited you—someone who hated bugs and couldn’t stand the idea of walking more than three minutes to find a bathroom.

You were still trying to decide whether not being able to say no to Yoongi was a problem, but it was his last free week before going back on tour. When he looked at you with starry eyes and asked you to go on a trip with him, which included spending the last two days sleeping in a tent, you couldn’t say no.

It was only two days, you were sure you could endure not sleeping in a proper bed for that long if that made him happy, you made the effort of not complaining just for tonight, after all you only had tickets to go visit him on tour in exactly five weeks, you were going to miss him. 

It was easy not to complain when Yoongi’s plans for your last night together were exclusively romantic; he cooked for you, built a campfire and spent the rest of the night stargazing until it was too cold to be outside, and when you were inside the tent he made sure to have hot water bags under the blankets, but they were no use when he was determined to get you naked. 

Did you mention that it was still winter?

Now you were trapped in a tent with him, straddling him as he kissed you deeply and gripped your thighs, begging you to ride him against your lips. That was when you started to complain. 

You felt your whole body shivering when Yoongi’s warm hands pulled your t-shirt over your head, leaving you almost naked. You hugged your torso, attempting to cover your breasts as you sat straight on top of your boyfriend, who was comfortably laying on the sleeping bag, fully clothed. 

“Yoongi, I’m cold.” You whined.

“C’mon, it’s going to wear off” He tried to convince you, rubbing his palms over your shoulders to keep you warm. You shook your head, laying your head on his still clothed chest as he covered your bare back with the blanket. It was easy for him to say that when he was wearing sweatpants and a long sleeve t-shirt. 

You knew that Yoongi was already missing you. He was fully aware that after tonight, he wouldn’t see you for a whole month and he wanted to make it last as long as he could, to hold you and kiss you as much as you let him. He had gotten too used to you—used to sleeping and waking up next to you, having you all to himself—but it became a problem every time he had to leave for work, it was impossible not to miss you. You still had texts, calls and FaceTime, but he was also taking into account time difference, work, and the fact that all of that wasn’t the real thing. And if you were honest, you were already missing him too. 

“What if I catch a cold?” You mumbled over his shirt. 

Yoongi kissed the top of your head, running his hands down your bare back and sending chills to your spine. How was he able to get you almost naked but you didn’t even get the chance to take off his t-shirt? “It’s not that cold.” He said, not willing to give up. 

You raised your head to look at him, frowning “Says the person who’s still fully clothed.”

He huffed, flipping you over to leave you under him. Suddenly, warmth rushed over you as you felt his body hovering over your frame. He was quick to take off his own t-shirt, trying to make you happy, but he quickly realized that maybe you were right, it was fucking cold, but he wasn’t going to back down.

“Happy now?”

“No, it’s freezing out there!” You kept complaining “Why do we have to do it without clothes? I don’t mind clothes, I actually think that doing it while being dressed is quite hot.” 

You threw your arms around his neck, bringing him closer to you. Even though you were in fact turned on from the kissing and grinding session you had a few moments ago, you still were thinking about the logistics of fucking inside the tent. 

Yoongi scoffed, amused.  “And I actually think that you being naked is quite hot, too.” He said, sneaking his face in the crook of your neck to trail down little kisses, nibbling the skin softly. “C’mon, baby. I won’t see you for weeks, let me make love to you.”

You tried not to roll your eyes. “You had been using that excuse the whole trip.” And you’ve fallen for it every time. His plans for this trip were very simple: fishing, camping and fucking you on every opportunity he had. It was not like you were against it, it has been a long time since you and him had time only for the two of you. 

“But isn’t it true?” He gazed up, looking at you with his soft eyes, his hair falling like a curtain on his face. “I’m gonna miss you.” 

You took a second to observe the tenderness of his features, to take in the softness of his voice, and for a moment there you knew why it was so hard to say no to him, you just didn’t want to say no. 

You closed your eyes, scrunching your nose. “We are gonna make such a mess.” You whined, but he just chuckled, knowing he won.

“I’ll take care of it, I promise.” He said with a soft voice, reaching for your lips as he roamed his hands towards your chest. You didn’t exactly know how he was going to “take care of it”, but his hands were gentle, the kiss was slow and when he opened his mouth to let his tongue slip past your lips, you were too into it to keep protesting about it.

As you sat on the cold bathroom floor of the home you shared with Yoongi, you tried to remind yourself of two basic things that you hoped would stop the sinking feeling in your chest. First, three weeks without Yoongi never killed anyone, this was something you knew from experience, Yoongi’s job demanded him to travel all the time, you were used to it, or at least you were supposed to be. Second, you were an independent woman (right?). You have been an independent woman since you were eighteen when you moved to Seoul alone, since you started a new life in a new city on your own. You woke up at six am everyday, worked hard your whole shift, paid the bills every month and managed to keep your house in order every day of the week. Sure, you loved Yoongi, and he loved you, and you could never imagine a life without him, but you didn’t need him, you wanted him. He wasn’t an extension of you, you were your own person, but why did you feel like the world was about to end right now if he was not there?

Crying your heart out like a five year old kid, you remembered the only time you had to take a pregnancy test, and how it looked nothing like this. 

Four years ago when you and Yoongi still didn’t kiss in front of your friends, when he still thought twice before holding your hand in public but still had the nerve of sneaking in your bed. That seemed like a hundred years ago, a universe away, but no, it was not too long ago when you were stubborn and kind of irresponsible for agreeing with him as he kissed your neck and ran his hands down your thighs while asking you if it was okay for him to “pull out” that night, since both of you completely forgot about condoms. You winced at the memory, but in your defense, you were too far gone to say no, take a cold shower and kiss him goodnight. You agreed only for that night, but three weeks later you were three days late and losing your mind, the only logical thing to do was to take a pregnancy test that, of course, came negative, but to this day you couldn’t shake the anxious feeling that you felt in your stomach those minutes before the negative sign appeared, and you couldn’t forget how pale Yoongi’s face turned when you told him about it. 

And now you were there, one hand covering your face while the other held a pregnancy test—only this time, it was positive. 

The one on your hand wasn’t the only one, no. There were two other positive tests laying on the floor in front of you, and even if you wanted to not trust the results, they couldn’t be all wrong, right? The plus sign was very clear in each one of them and you were five days late. The problem was that you were on the pill, you had been on the pill for the last couple years and this never happened to you, this wasn’t something normal or a simple mistake. 

You breathed out, trying not to panic. You got up on your bare feet to look at yourself in the mirror. You were a mess, that was not a surprise at all, your face was all swollen for the amount of time you have been crying and your hair was a big nest above your head. You washed your face, attempting to remain calm and evaluating your options. You glanced at your phone resting on the sink, and an overwhelming urge to call your mother surged within you, but as you imagined how the conversation would go, you quickly realized it wouldn’t be a good idea.

Your mother was not nosy, but she could be a little dense, a bit complicated, and it was not what you needed right now. You were sure that calling her while having a mental breakdown was going to drive her crazy, and consequently, drive you crazy too.  She would want to know every single detail, date, place and hour to understand the situation better, and you would have to explain something you didn’t even understand yet. You could imagine the conversation, she would try to explain every contraceptive method like you were a teenager and ask why you didn’t use a condom, because you knew she would ask, and you didn’t want to explain to her how you went on vacation with your boyfriend to have a bunch of condomless sex, the thought alone made you want to vomit. 

Calling your mother was not an option, not only because talking to her on the phone was complicated enough, but because she was in a different city, which brought you to discard calling Nayeon too, who was on vacation with her boyfriend (yes, boyfriend, that sounded ridiculous to you, too.) 

The last option was something you couldn't even fathom doing unless you were desperate, but you know what they say, desperate times call desperate measures, so you blew your nose, brushed your hair and called the only person in this city who would come running without asking any questions, Jungkook.

Breaking the news to the person in front of you wasn’t easy, especially when the words you needed to say were as unreal as they sounded. You didn’t look much better, you spent the next thirty minutes that Jungkook took to arrive crying, as Holly, the brown fluffy dog, looked at you like you just went mad, the worst thing was that you weren’t far from it. It was difficult to keep it together when your mind refused to look at the bright side of things, when you couldn’t call your mom and Yoongi was in another country, but when Jungkook rang your bell and entered through the door, you tried your best to smile at him and act like you weren’t in the middle of a mental breakdown. 

Your act wasn’t convincing, your friend looked at you like you were about to tell him that you killed someone and you needed help to hide the body.

You would have never recur to a man other than Yoongi for this kind of situation, but you decided to trust your ten years of friendship with the man in front of you and hope that he could be of any help. 

“You are what?” Said Jungkook, standing in the middle of the living room with his eyes wide open, trying to understand the meaning of your words.

There, in your pajamas and your hands on your hips, you closed your eyes shut, sighing. “Jungkook…” You said through gritted teeth. 

“I’m serious.” He said, letting his backpack drop to the floor. “I crossed half the city to get here, are you not kidding me right now?”

“I’m serious, too!” You whined “I’m not kidding, I don’t know what to do.”

He slowly approached you, walking towards the couch to take a seat. He suddenly felt his blood pressure dropping, his stomach sinking and his mouth dry as if he was the one developing a human organism inside his body.  “Are you sure?” He murmured. “Are you not having one of those crises you had when you were a teenager? I remember that time in college when you freaked out when you thought you were pregnant because some guy-”

“Jungkook, I’m sure.” You interrupted him, already knowing the whole story, but this time it was not just you overreacting. “My period is late and I took three tests, all positive.” 

He gulped, letting the room fall silent for a few seconds as both of you contemplated what that meant. You knew he was trying his best not to freak out, so you were grateful for his reaction, at least he didn’t faint like you expected him to do, but he was still white as a sheet, trying to find a solution in his head as though you had told him he was the one who was going to be a father.

“What are we gonna do?” He said under his breath.

“What am I gonna do?” You corrected him, sitting next to him “You are supposed to help me.” 

Jungkook took one hard look at you, looking terrified. “How?”

“God, I shouldn’t have called you.” You rolled your eyes. 

“No, I mean, what do you want to do?” He said. “Did you tell Yoongi?”

“Of course not.” You replied, feeling your eyes getting teary, but still trying to hold back. 

“Do you want to… tell him?” He continued to ask. 

You sniffed “I mean, I don’t know how.” You pouted “I’m seeing him in two weeks, I don’t know if I can wait that long.” 

He threw himself back against the couch, sinking in the cushions. It was like Jungkook’s life flashed before his eyes, how come he was discussing this with you right now? He still felt like you were kids, there was no way you were pregnant right now. “How did this happen?” He murmured to himself, looking at the blank wall in front of him. 

“Is it necessary for me to explain it?” You cried, snuggling closer to him as you rested your head on his shoulder. 

“Did you not use condoms?” He scolded you like he was your mother. 

You shifted your weight uneasily, eyes darting down to your socks. “We don’t… use condoms.” You cleared your throat, the words coming out hushed and hesitant. “I’m on the pill, I don’t know what happened.”

On second thought, that wasn’t something Jungkook wanted to know. It was like finding out how his parents had sex, he squirmed at the thought, shifting in his place. “Can you not call your doctor?” He suggested, his voice laced with uncertainty.

You paused, considering it. It was probably the most logical thing Jungkook could say, but you weren’t sure if your doctor could do anything about it.

“Even if I call her and tell her what's going on, it’s not like I can get a refund.” You huffed, a dry smile tugging at your lips.

He raised an eyebrow. “Well…” he began, dragging the word out. “In some way, you could get a refund.” You blinked at him, opening your eyes wide in surprise. “I mean only if you want to!”

You were so nervous you wanted to laugh. It wasn’t like the thought  didn’t cross your mind for a moment, but only when you tried to evaluate your options; if you were being honest, you couldn’t see yourself getting rid of the baby—or whatever organism had been living rent-free in your body for the past three weeks. Jungkook looked terrified that you might explode at him, especially when it seemed like you were on the verge of tears, but his question made you think, if you didn’t want to get rid of it, what was that you wanted to do?

You sank your shoulders, feeling completely lost. “That’s the problem.” You murmured “I don’t know if I want a refund.” 

Jungkook stood still for a moment, his eyes softening as he watched you. His thoughts swirled, trying to grasp the weight of your words. 

"Would Yoongi want a refund?" He asked, his tone lighter than before, but the sincerity in his voice was unmistakable. Despite the attempt at humor, his eyes betrayed the concern he was masking with the joke. 

A shaky exhale left your lips, the weight of uncertainty pulling you down. “I don’t know…” Was the only thing you could say. 

“But do you know if Yoongi wanted… kids?” He said as if that was a forbidden word. “I mean, do you want them?”

It wasn’t like you didn’t know what Yoongi wanted. You sighed, suddenly remembering all those times when the idea of a family came up in conversations, between drunken thoughts, before falling asleep, at dinner with his parents and on the ride home when he apologized on his mother’s behalf when she asked when you were going to give her grandchildren. His soft eyes, his hand on your tight and the view of the future laying in front of you like a promise. The thought warmed your heart for a moment, but the truth was that there was a difference between talking about it and actually having kids.

“We’ve talked about it…” You admitted. “But we’ve never planned it, let alone now that he’s on tour.” 

Jungkook hummed, still thinking. 

“But you both agreed to have kids at some point.” He affirmed, and you just nodded. 

It was in that moment where you realized you were crying again, tears slowly falling down your cheeks as you stood in silence, contemplating the overwhelming weight of the situation. 

“Fuck, don’t cry.” Jungkook said, rushing to wrap his arms around you, he enveloped you in a tight hug. As soon as you buried your face into his chest, something inside you gave away. You began sobbing against his hoodie, the tears flowed freely and uncontrollable, unable to hold yourself back. “C’mon, it’s okay, you’re okay. Nothing bad’s gonna happen.” His voice was soft but firm, holding you tightly. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his thumb gently wiping away a tear from your cheek, his gaze filled with nothing but concern. “You don’t need to have it all figured out right now. Let’s go step by step, okay?”

You nodded, feeling like a kid lost in the mall. “Okay, if you want to see him as soon as possible, you have to change your flight first.” He said, but you shook your head, trying not to panic. 

“He’s going to ask why.” You said, your voice hoarse “What am I going to tell him?”

He kept silent, his eyes fixed on a distant point as he was trying to come up with a solution. 

“Let’s not tell him.” He proposed.

“What do you mean let’s not tell him?”

“I’m leaving for tour next weekend, you should come with me and not tell him.” He kept going “Say that you missed him and you wanted to surprise him or some shit like that, and when you get him alone you talk to him about this.” 

Now you were reminded that Jungkook had to leave to join Yoongi on tour in just a few days, you completely forgot about that. It was not like you couldn’t get on an airplane alone, but if your friend was going to be there you were sure it would make things easier. 

You couldn’t believe it. After so many years you were there, sad and upset and still with the same idiot as a friend, willing to follow whatever plan he was going to make for you. You didn’t know if the plan actually sounded good or you were losing your mind for listening to Jungkook.

“Jungkook, Yoongi texts me all the time, he facetimes me everyday. It’s impossible to travel to another country without him noticing.”

“It’s not impossible, I’m gonna help you.” He insisted “If he texts you, you say you’re at home, if he wants to facetime you, you say you’re busy, turn off your location, it shouldn't be difficult.”

“It is difficult, what if he realizes I turned off my location?” You groaned, running your finger through your hair exasperatedly. 

“You say it stopped working or something! C’mon, I thought you were smarter than me.”

You threw yourself back against the couch, crossing your arms on your chest, it was almost comical that you were considering the idea. Your friend could sense the hesitation in every move you made, he could only hope that you agreed because his mind couldn’t come up with another idea if his life depended on it. 

“Jungkook, if he suspects anything…” You raised a finger, digging it on his chest. 

“He won’t suspect a thing,” He affirmed confidently. “When have any of my plans ever gone wrong? Never. Trust me, by the time you get back home, you’ll have already decided to name your baby after me.”

You rolled your eyes, unable to hide your laugh and punching him in the arm playfully. The tension was still there, and you still felt an inexplicable ache in your chest that wasn’t going away anytime soon, but being there with Jungkook made you feel that this wasn’t the end of the world, nor of your life, but the beginning of it.  

Jungkook's plan wasn’t the master plan he had been bragging about the whole airplane ride, but it worked. A few days later, after a few calls and arrangements to change your flight, after another three mental breakdowns and several crying sessions in the shower, you had somehow arrived in Berlin without Yoongi suspecting a thing. You had managed to dodge facetime calls and weird questions, maybe Yoongi missed you so much that he didn’t have time to question why you couldn’t wait two more weeks to see him when you arrived at the hotel and hugged in the hall, because, if he were honest, he couldn’t wait two more weeks to see you either. 

Yoongi was happy with the surprise, you went to see his show that night and after arriving to his hotel room he made love to you like he hadn’t seen you in a year, kissing your neck, grabbing your waist, murmuring things in your ear, saying how much he loved you, how much he missed you. For a moment it was like nothing changed, the two of you sharing what happened these last three weeks tangled between sheets, laughing between kisses as you ignored why you were there in the first place. 

“You can’t keep spending time away from me.” He said, hovering over you as he left a small kiss on your lips. “I’ll keep you in my pocket if it’s necessary.” 

You sighed, knowing that you couldn’t keep this a secret for much longer, but for tonight, you’ll let it slide. 

You didn’t know when you were returning home, but you promised yourself that before leaving for the next city, you would have to break the news to Yoongi, which was becoming more difficult by the second, because if you were good at something, that was procrastinating. It was absurd, a few days ago you were crying because all you wanted to do was to have your boyfriend by your side and now you couldn’t even look him in the eye without feeling like you were about to throw up, and your mind wasn’t helping at all. All those doubts invaded your head, attempting to drive you crazy, making you believe you were not ready to tell him yet.

Three days later, when you finished the last show in Berlin, Jungkook gave you a knowing look as you were leaving the arena holding Yoongi’s hand. He knew that you haven’t said a thing to Yoongi yet, he was all over you like he was your mother, asking you if you were okay, if you needed anything, when you were going to tell Yoongi, it almost made you regret telling him, but you knew he was right. 

A night was all you needed, just one night to gather your thoughts and practice what you were going to say. You couldn’t keep declining glasses of wine forever,  you could only hope no one noticed how weird you were acting, how sensitive you were since you stepped foot out the plane. Time was running out; you knew that when Yoongi invited you to an after-party before the whole crew left Berlin. Instead of telling him the truth, you simply said you weren’t in the mood to go, hoping that your time alone would help to gather enough courage to confess.

You weren’t trying to keep Yoongi with you, you told him a million times that he should go without you and that there was no problem with it. You hid under the blanket and hugged your body, watching him change his shirt into a black tee. He ran his finger through his hair in an attempt to tame it, looking at himself into the mirror and stealing a glance towards your reflection. He knew you too well not to notice the sad expression on your face as you scrolled through your phone, searching for a Disney movie to watch while he was out. He turned around, approaching the bed and kneeling beside you to catch your eyes. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to come?” He asked once again.

“Yeah, I just need one night.” You said, which was true. You needed a few more moments to finish fighting with your own thoughts. 

“But are you okay?” He continued to ask, cupping your jaw in his palm.

“Of course, why wouldn’t I be?” The words came out of your mouth with more emotion than you intended to, he couldn’t ignore it. 

“I don’t know… You look like you want me to stay.”

There was a beat of silence in the room. The sweetness of his voice broke your heart into a million pieces. You couldn’t say yes and make him stay just because you were feeling down and you really had no problem with him leaving, but you didn’t have the heart to tell him no either. You were full of contradictions, wanting to be alone but wanting to be with him at the same time, something in your chest pulled, wanting him close. 

“What makes you think that?” You murmured, fighting the urge to cry. God, you were too sensitive.

“Mmm… The Disney movie kinda gives you away.”

You huffled, playing with the fingers of his hands without looking at him. “I don’t want to ruin your fun… You should go, I mean it.”

He scoffed “You won’t, there’s going to be a bunch of parties until the tour ends, this one is nothing.”

“They’ll miss you…”

“You’ll miss me, too.”

“But do you want to stay, though?” You asked him a whisper. 

“Of course I want to… But you have to let me choose the movie.” He warned, automatically making you giggle.

Letting Yoongi choose the movie was the worst decision you have made in the last week so far, but you felt grateful he couldn’t see you as he hugged your waist and rested his chin on your shoulder, because as the ending of Inside Out approached, you were sure you were about to cry. 

When you arrived at the airport you promised yourself not to cry anymore, not in front of Yoongi at least, but your body was full of emotions you didn’t even know you could feel. It was certain that you’ve always been a sensitive person, you cried at the drop of a hat, Yoongi was familiar with that, but now it was impossible to stop it. 

You’d stopped paying attention to the screen entirely; one by one, your darkest thoughts crept in, pressing heavily on your chest. The feelings you’d tried so hard to bury rose up, churning uneasily in your stomach, and when you least expected it, tears began to fall down your cheeks.

A sob escaped from your lips at the same time the main character began to cry, making your boyfriend shift in his place. 

“Are you crying?” Yoongi suddenly asked, softly grabbing your shoulder to turn you around. He looked at your face, at first amused, thinking you were crying because of the movie. But his expression softened when he saw the sadness in your eyes and the damp lashes heavy with tears. You covered your face, unable to hold back, and the sobs came harder, each one swallowing the words you couldn’t say. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” He reached for your arms, attempting to pull them away from your face, but you turned away, burying your face in the pillow.

“Nothing,” You lied, desperate to avoid this conversation again. “I’m just… emotional, I don’t know.” Your voice cracked, hoarse, as the emotions you were trying to hide slipped through.

Yoongi was confused, but mostly worried. You had been weird since the day you arrived, he would be a fool not to notice. 

He turned the light of the lamp on the nightstand, illuminating the room with a soft orange light and turned the tv off. 

“Hey, look at me.” He softly said, brushing your hair with his fingers, it only made you want to cry harder. “I know something’s up, I’m not a dummy.” 

You turned to him, hitting him with the most heartbreaking sight he could witness, your face soaked in tears, nose and eyes red as you pouted at him. What was so wrong to make you cry like that?

“What do you know?” Was the only thing you could say, daring to be upset at him when he hadn't done anything wrong. 

He frowned at your tone. “Well, I know that you suddenly came here two weeks earlier just because. You are weird, you almost don’t eat, your suitcase is almost untouched like you’re going to leave anytime soon, you look… sad? I don’t know, baby, you tell me.”

You kept silent for a second, wiping the tears with the sleeve of your t-shirt. Uncomfortable, you sat in the bed, taking a deep breath as your mind completely blanked. You didn’t realize yet, but there was no way to get out of this one.

Contrary to popular belief, your boyfriend was kind of a dummy. You confirmed it when he decided to say the following words. 

“Is it because of Lily?” He said, making you dart your eyes at him. “You don’t like her being here? 

You couldn’t blame Yoongi for not understanding why you were crying, but the suggestion that you were jealous of one of his coworkers made you want to punch him. Lily was one of the new producers at Yoongi’s label, and a few months ago, Yoongi had noticed that you were starting to feel uneasy about the amount of time she was spending with him, which led him to realize that you were beginning to feel unexpectedly jealous of her. Yes, that was a whole deal back then, but it was water under the bridge now; the fact that she was touring with him and the boys didn’t faze you. The idea that he thought you were crying because of her was ridiculous. 

“Yoongi, are you kidding me?”

“No, I’m not.” He defended himself. “The last time I saw you we were fine, but now you’re here crying and I don’t have a clue what I did wrong.”

Suddenly, you felt your heart sink. He hadn’t done anything wrong; it was you who was an emotional wreck, struggling to keep your feelings in check. A wave of guilt washed over you for the mess you’d just created, convinced there must have been ways to prevent all this conflict. But now, all you could do was sit there, tangled in the aftermath of your own emotions.

You sighed, defeated. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” You said “And it’s not about Lily, I couldn’t care less about that… It’s just that- … Yoongi…”

“Baby…” He said in the same tone as you, “What is it?”

As Yoongi’s gentle question hung in the air, you felt a knot tighten in your chest. The truth sat heavy on your tongue, you glanced away, fidgeting with the edge of your sleeve, buying time as your thoughts spiraled. “Yoongi, my period is late.” You confessed, observing Yoongi’s eyes go wide, his brows lifting in surprise as he tried to understand what he just heard. “It’s been a week now, I don’t know what happened. I tried to wait, but I had to take a test”

 “A test?” he asked, voice low, surprise flickering in his eyes.

“A pregnancy test, Yoongi.” You said, trying not to roll your eyes. “I took three damn tests.”

“And what-... what happened?” He asked, his voice unsteady, eyes fixed on yours.

The room felt suddenly smaller, the air thick with unspoken fears and questions. A quiet stillness settled between you both, there was a weight to the silence, stretching out the seconds as you waited for whatever words would come next.

“I mean, guess what happened,” you whispered. Before you could finish the sentence, you got up and reached for the zipper on your suitcase pocket. Your hand closed around the large object, and you felt his eyes on the back of your neck, following you as you moved around the hotel room. Returning to the bed, you sat down and handed him the pregnancy test.

Yoongi didn’t know anything about pregnancy tests—he’d never needed to. He’d always been careful, using protection with every girl he’d been with, including you, until things had started to get serious. So no, he wasn’t familiar with the variety of pregnancy tests out there. But now, here he was, staring at a white stick with a tiny screen, showing a clear positive sign, which could only mean one thing.

Yoongi’s hands trembled slightly as he held the pregnancy test, his gaze locked onto the tiny screen, staring at it for a moment, speechless. His heartbeat thundered in his ears, loud enough that he thought you might hear it. Now everything made sense, how you said you were nauseous in the morning, each time you refused to drink wine, how you looked like you were about to cry when you saw a stroller with twins this afternoon at the park. How could he not notice?

You pressed your lips together, feeling the familiar sting of tears welling up once more. A small, shaky hiccup escaped your lips, breaking the silence and snapping him out of his daze. “No, no, no,” He murmured urgently, setting the test aside and pulling you close, lifting you effortlessly onto his lap. His arms wrapped around your waist as you buried your face in your hands, trying to hold back the tears. “Hey, there’s no reason to cry,” He whispered, gently guiding your face up, his fingers lifting your chin as he coaxed your hands away. “C’mon, look at me.” His voice was soft, reassuring, his gaze full of warmth and understanding.

“I don’t know how it happened.” You blurted out, your voice shaking with uncertainty.

“That doesn’t matter now, why didn’t you tell me?” He asked, you could tell he was trying to remain calm by the soft tone of his voice, but his face had gone as white as paper, like he’d just seen a ghost.

“I arranged the flight to see you as soon as possible, but... I was scared. I didn’t know what to say. I still don’t,” you admitted, your words barely a whisper.

“Baby, you don’t have to be scared, okay? You can tell me anything.” He assured you, his hand gently squeezing yours. But the uneasy feeling in your stomach refused to go away.

“I know, but… we haven’t planned for this,” you murmured, glancing down. “It just… came out of nowhere.”

“Well, it didn’t exactly come out of nowhere. These things can happen,” he said gently, a faint smile tugging at his lips. You groaned, burying your face in his chest.

“But it wasn’t supposed to happen,” you whined, your voice muffled against him. “I didn’t expect this at all. I was drowning in work when I found out. I’m stressed, I’m lost, I don’t know what to do… and I miss my mom.” The words tumbled out in a frantic ramble, and you were so caught up in your thoughts that you didn’t even notice the soft laugh he let slip.

“You miss your mom?” he asked softly, careful not to upset you further.

“Yes!” you cried, voice cracking. “I feel like a kid lost in the supermarket.”

He shook his head gently and brushed away your tears with his thumbs, pulling you closer. “Baby…” he began, his tone soothing.

“Yoongi…” you whispered, lifting your head to meet his gaze. His expression was still worried, but the warmth in his eyes was reassuring.

“You’re right, we didn’t plan this. But we’ve talked about it before, and you have options. Whatever you choose, I’ll be right here beside you, no matter what. You know that, don’t you?” He searched your eyes for confirmation, and you nodded, feeling the ache in your chest begin to ease.

As his words sank in, a new wave of emotions stirred inside you. The weight of worry and loneliness began to ease, replaced by a warmth that softened the ache in your chest.

“But… what do you think?” you asked softly. You knew that whatever you decided would ultimately be your choice only, but you needed to know what was going on in his mind.

He sighed, a hint of hesitation in his expression. “I mean… we’re not sixteen, baby. We’re adults, we’re about to buy a house together, and we love each other.”

“Well, those are just facts,” you replied, searching his face. “What I mean is… do you want this, now?”

It was hard for Yoongi to believe you were really asking this. There you were, sitting on his lap with swollen eyes and a red nose from crying, asking him if he wanted to start a family with you—as if that hadn’t been his dream all along. Of course he felt like the life he had been living was going to completely change from now on. It was terrifying, but he couldn’t help but feel excited at the same time. 

“I've always wanted it, are you serious?” He laughed, the sound light but filled with disbelief. “And I only want it with you, haven’t I made it clear enough?”

Those were the main differences between the two of you: while he was calm, always taking a moment to think before acting, you were emotional and, more often than not, let your feelings take control of your actions. It was only in that moment that you realized how irrational you’d been. There wasn’t a world where Yoongi didn’t want this, and there certainly wasn’t a world where you didn’t want it either.

“I want it, too,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you fought back tears.

“Then why are you crying, huh?” he asked gently, squeezing your face in an attempt to lighten the mood.

“Because...” you said, struggling to catch your breath. “Maybe you didn’t think it was the right time... You’re on tour right now.”

He frowned, his expression softening with concern. “I won’t be on tour forever...”

“I know, but... we’re not married. What would your parents think?”

He let out a laugh, clearly unable to believe that was a real concern of yours. “You’re not seriously thinking about my parents right now, are you?”

“How could I not?” you said, raising your eyebrows. “What if they force us to marry? God, I don’t want to be one of those couples who only marry because the girl is suddenly pregnant!”

He laughed even harder, shaking his head. “Oh my god, baby, no one’s forcing us to do anything!” He grinned, clearly finding your worry amusing. “If we ever get married, it won’t be because anyone pressured me. Trust me.” He paused, happy to see that the worried expression abandoned your face. “Besides, my parents love you, you have no idea how happy they’ll be once they know. Married or not.”

“Yoongi, it can’t be that simple.” 

“But it is.”

You sighed, feeling like all the mess you’d made was for nothing—and thank God it was. You’d been so caught up in your own despair that you hadn’t realized everything in your life was falling into place for this to happen. Yoongi was right. You were about to move into a bigger home, you had your job, Yoongi had his, and you loved each other. You've always wanted it, this was the perfect moment for this to happen. Why had you been so worried? 

“You’re right, it is.” You finally admitted, letting your body rest against him. 

Yoongi laughed, gently grabbing you by your hips and laying you on the bed, kissing you softly. “You don’t have to worry, baby, not with me.”

“I know.” You breathed out, feeling like a weight was lifted off your shoulders. “But I am-… I’m so scared. How am I gonna have a baby? It sounds crazy.”

“Of course it does, it is.” He said “I’m terrified, too, but we’re together, right? Nothing bad can happen if we have each other.”

You nodded, feeling your chest unclench. “I guess you're right,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “I just... needed to hear you say it.”

Yoongi smiled, leaning down to steal another kiss from you, this time deeper, longer. “I love you, baby, don’t you know that?”

You brushed your nose against his, nodding. “I love you, too, bubba.”

“C’mon, baby, stop crying.” He said, making you laugh. 

[morbethgames]

Halloween Special, Current Projects, New Patreon Content

I am so sorry about the radio silence as of late. Between the stuff earlier this week (yes, that stuff), dealing with deaths of people, and university; I've been very busy and mentally drained. However, the good news is, you can play the mini game of The Bureau, "Witchy Woman" right now! The link is at the bottom of this post! Eventually I'll integrate it into the main game, or put it out as potential free DLC or something, but for now there are no stats and it's not tied to choices from the base game.

Tonight is a special case. The MCT has been called in as a favor after finishing up our most recent case. A friend of Kris's reached out, and the local P.D. has let the MCT take the lead on this one. A house party in the beginning of October up in Maine has turned sour. A party-goer has been reported deceased.

We just finished a job, but in this line of work, there's always another case to solve. So here I am, approaching the residence with my team, about to find out exactly what happened on this cold, damp night.

Because it's not part of a bigger game or story, and the only pacing I had to worry about was that of the investigation, this is much more freeflow than other investigations in the main story. Go back and forth between the crime scene, the perimeter of the house, interrogations, and more! The more you discover evidence, the more new options will unlock in conversations, and you have an evidence log in the stats section that updates every time you find out something relevant to the case.

I'm only promoting this now, even though it's been done for a couple of weeks, because it was part of a Jam and I didn't think it would be fair if I got votes from a community built over a few years when others in the Jam would not have had that same benefit. I wanted it to be an even playing field, even if it meant holding out for a bit. So, I apologize for making you all wait.

There are still things I'd like to do for this game, things I'll end up adding, but it is at the very least ready to play. It's 40k words, so have at it!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Right, next up, something I'd like to announce. I'm working on a serialized fiction that I'm (hopefully) planning to turn into a book. The first 3 chapters are going to be posted for free, both here on my blog and on my Patreon, though not quite yet. Chapters after that will be released on Patreon for the people who pay the $5 tier.

I'll be honest, it has been extremely cathartic to go from writing an IF where the chapters are all pretty much the length of a book themselves, to writing an actual book where a chapter is about 4k words. It's a very nice breath of fresh air, and it by no means, entails that I will stop working on Bureau. In fact, it may even help speed up rate of production, funnily enough. Having something to keep my mind turning while having writer's block about a scene in the IF will help me constantly generate ideas, and that's really nice to think about.

A small college town is rocked by a horrific murder. In wake of the events, a couple of friends begin investigating this personal tragedy, determined to get to the bottom of what happened at the Scribe City college. The lesson is quickly thrust upon them that loss leads to pain, but pain is temporary, and loss can be forever. So what comes after the pain? They need to explore that journey together, and in the process, navigate the complicated things feelings that have started to bloom.

The book (serialized fiction for now) , called Love In Stasis, is going to be a 'WLW romance small town college murder mystery'. You will explore the relationships that these characters have and continue to form, and just how messy things get when tragedy sparks love. I have almost 25k words done for it, about six and a half chapters, and I'm going to try to get 50k words done with it by the end of the month. A writing challenge that's totally not tied to the name of any organizations.

If this works out, I could reward patrons with static fiction while not having to worry about providing everyone with constant things tied to the IF itself, and I could work on The Bureau at a pace I'm very comfortable with.

I'm still learning as a writer. I'm still learning new things I like, and how I like to produce content. All I know is that I like producing art in the form of writing, and I most certainly will not stop doing that anytime soon, and now that the Halloween Special is done, I will be getting back to the base game.

Which will start with a complete recoding of the gender variables. I've already started on that process, so no more multiple versions of each chapter. One version. One set of gender variables. Much more condensed coding and script. So, people out there who said that wasn't going to change, I just have to say what I'd said all along. My coding was indeed bad. However I will also say something else I've said all along. I do take criticism.

That being said I'm never using multi-replace and you can't make me. I like being able to read what I'm writing.

More to come in the near future.

Stay Brilliant,

-Vi

https://cogdemos.ink/play/viisbae/the-bureau-halloween-special-witchy-woman

Patreon Link

[happysparklingshadows]

A Certain Hunger (4/?)

Chapter 3 ✿ Chapter 5

Summary: It's been a few weeks in this cabin, and thinking about being saved is getting a little bit bleak. So, you have a good idea for everyone to find a job to make things easier for your time being in Canada. You pick up a fishing rod, and everyone else picks up the gun to see who will become the hunter. You reconnect with a childhood friend and start to accept your new home.

Pairing: Surviving!Poly! Yellowjackets x reader (slow burn)

Warnings: Smut, HOMOSEXUAL SEXXX, Lowkey controversial entirely written sex scene with a character yall wouldn't guess lol, depictions of a threeway, Lowkey mean reader, Depiction of a terminal illness and death of a mother, 90s setting with the views of the time, homophobia and internal homophobia, Homophobic slurs, Alcohol/drug use, gore and blood, depictions of mental health, depictions of death, 90s slang is used (411 means giving the tea or details of a situation to someone).

Taglist: @zhivaxo @h-doodles @homopheli @bigtimesalt8196 @juniperjean @scatorccioz @juniperjean @yaakooi @lottieswebs @juchily @freezinggay @deathly710-blog @ghostoflesbianism @marvelous-wandanatangel @errriiie @anskkks @deathvidal @slutforhotpeople @thursdayygrrrl @day-ziez @evewasheretoday @mayasaurusss @captainbabybear @eleanormall @mommyeater2000 @leonchef @mikititta @tigersarrcool @nyasbae @dykepvppy @jax1118 @oakwave @mmiah @dvrkhcld @swiftin0f @opheliadeservedbetter-27 @psychicdreamwonderland @pinkmoonzzz @under-your-bed-not-in-it @sadsapphic-rose @fictitious-sapphic

Word count: 13.4k

Notes: I want to apologize for my hiatus, but it was for good reason. I needed to care for my father, who got very sick around September last year when I was going to write the 4th chapter, and he has since been better. Sadly, I lost my motivation, but I have detailed notes for the following 8 chapters, and I will be trying to finish seasons 1 and two of the story as soon as I can before the third season airs! This year, for NANOWRIMO, I have decided to write for this story and see how far I can go within the next month or two. Thank you to everyone who was so kind and understanding about my disappearance and still loves my story!

“(Y/n), what the fuck is a ratio?” Jackie whispers to you loud enough for Shauna to hear beside you in a lull in math class. Mrs. Goldberg had to leave the class for some reason, you don’t remember why. You smile over at Jackie with her lovely brown eyes and take a good look at her. She’s as beautiful as you remember.  

You chuckle as you look into your notes and say, “From what Mrs. Goldmen wrote, an ordered pair of numbers a and b, written a / b where b does not equal 0.” You read from your notes as Shauna and Jackie looked blankly up at you from the obtuse definition. You laugh with them, “Whatever the fuck that means!” 

Jackie and Shauna laugh with you, but Jackie groans in frustration at the last question. 

Taissa, behind you, leans forward and smiles, “What’s wrong?” 

Jackie turns dramatically to Taissa as she pulls her paper over to Taissa; she just wants the answer now. You look at Jackie moving around as Van pulls your attention with a hand on your shoulder. 

“Hey, (y/n), can you help me with the first question? Jackie stole my answer key.” She joked as you turned to help her. 

You giggle at her joke as you look down at the paper. 

It was blank. 

There weren’t even questions printed onto the page like you thought. You looked at your paper again, flipping it around but finding that it had nothing written on it either. It didn’t have the answers you thought you were writing on it.

You furrow your brows as you look up to Van, but the redhead isn’t there. Neither were the others. A chill runs down your spine as you start to remember. 

The door of your old math teacher's class slams open, causing you to squeal and jump from your desk. That then was the only desk in the room. It was as if when your eyes looked away from something, it disappeared. 

Mrs. Goldmen looks at you with a sad, sympathetic smile as she leads you to the hallway; you don’t have any control at the moment as your legs walk you down the hallway with her. Mrs. Goldmen's hand is on your shoulder as she says words that have been etched into the gray matter of your brain. “Honey, your mother has gone to the hospital, and your father is here to pick you up.” 

You remember this. This was the day your mother’s health got so much worse. The day you became her caretaker. 

Fat tears run down your eyes as you walk to the office door. Mrs. Goldman disappears when her hand leaves your shoulder. You look around for her; the hallways of your old high school are empty, and liminal darkness creeps in the corners of the walls. You felt an urge to go into the office. 

You held the cold handle and turned the knob to the left to open the office door. 

It wasn’t right. 

You are met with the darkness of the woods, which has claimed you as its own. You turn, and the hallways no longer protect you from the cold forest. You scream as you are surrounded by woods again; the door stands alone with its hinges.  

 You feel the ripe cold air coming up your legs and arms; you hug yourself. 

Howls from the trees start to chant above you. Every corner was a howl from a freakish, unnatural octave, and you started to feel the snow melt under your toes and the nip of the winter bite at the skin of your arms. Unbearable and cutting is how it felt—hunger in the air. 

You look down at yourself and see something that drops your heart. 

The gold heart necklace from Jackie’s Sweet 16. 

You don’t think before you run. You run straight and away from trees as the howls follow you. Helpless as sticks and bushes stopped you as you rushed through the 4ft of snow. 

You sob and run, knowing you are coming to an end. You are going to die. You should just stay still and watch with open eyes as they slice your throat, shoot you with an arrow, or stab you with a spear. So why would you run? 

But you ran anyway. 

Raw, cold toes feel the crunching of the snow. Twigs tickle between your toes and scratch when you lift your feet. 

You don’t hear anything anymore. You are in the heart of the woods; the tree watches you as you finally fall onto a mound of snow. Nothing makes any sense. You cry and feel yourself shake with adrenaline; you need to keep going. 

A chanting comes to your ears. You freeze in the moment; you hear yourself. 

You crawl towards the song, French humming and chanting from a distance. 

Over the hill, you see yourself dressed in your old headdress, the pink stain furs of a white rabbit made into a cloak with the head of a doe adorn on the top. You circle the campfire that cooks the meat; the others dressed in their cloaks watch with stabbing eyes. 

The queen in the center watches a younger you dance around the fire. The Antler queen nods her head and looks around the circle. 

You watch yourself take a satisfying bite of the fatty meat from the pan that cooked the chunks. The others immediately rush to the pan and take their share of the meat. The grease shines on your satisfied smirk on the younger self, bubbling in your stomach. “Wake up, " you blurt out to yourself in a panic. 

You gag as your eyes fill with tears. 

No. 

No. You don’t want to remember this. 

This wasn’t even the worst of it. 

Stop. 

Wake up (y/n) wake up wake up wake up wake up-

‘21

You wake up violently from your dream. You feel yourself lean harder onto the surface you were on and feel a darting pain from a rod in your neck. You gasp as you look around, realizing you weren’t in your house again. 

The tree whispers to you again. You know it. 

You stand in the wooded area behind your home. It was always comforting to hide in the trees and smell the sun's sweet earth, playing pirates or whispering about boys you never liked with Shauna and Jackie. This was your hideout as a child. You played fox and hounds and painted nails as you watched the sunset. You hate it now. It screams at you, and it itches your skin to be surrounded again; you need a little distance. Your breath is short again. 

Your hands cling to the tree behind you, and you feel something in your hand: your pocket knife. You turn around to look at what you have done again. You stare back at the symbol. Even when you dream, you seem to find a way to protect yourself, even a little bit. 

You put the knife in your nightgown pocket. And you backed away. Slowly accepting the fact that this is something you will never stop doing, no matter the pills, sleep therapy, or drinking, can make you stop sleepwalking to the trees when you think about them. It follows closely behind, no matter the distance. 

Fucking Shauna. 

When you went to her house last night, you weren’t planning on sleeping with her. Or Jeff. 

You were sitting at her island drinking coffee like you usually do. Ever since you returned from New York to Wiskayok, you reconnected with Shauna because of the brunches with Jackie's parents. You have been coming over for coffee to talk about your lives like regular people. It was refreshing to look at Shauna and see an adult woman instead of the girl you grew up with and survived with. Not seeing Shauna was especially hard after coming home from the wilderness because you were the closest to her before the crash, even before you knew who you were. You still don’t know who you are without her in some ways. 

You both talk about the upcoming brunch, how you'll get a rabbit as a present, and how Jackie’s parents will talk down to you like they always do. But as the conversation continues, Shauna confesses that she and Jeff are in a deep dry spell. They haven’t touched each other in a long time, and how Shauna has not been touched in a long time. Then, without even thinking about it, you two start kissing each other. 

Then, something instinctually comes over you as you kiss and touch each other. You didn’t even notice when Jeff got there, but the planned 40-minute coffee became hours of love-making. You have made love with Shauna and Jeff before, and this wasn’t anything short of the other times you were with the married couple. 

But as soon as the passion ended, you left. You felt satisfied and a little weird from your desperation with Shauna. You got dressed and kissed both of them goodbye. You remember feeling so grateful Callie was sleeping over at her friend's house. 

When you drove home, all you thought about was your day with Misty and Natalie, Travis killing himself, and making love with Shauna. It was a blast from the past. As you entered your driveway, an intrusive thought came to mind: the image of a pan over an open fire frying chunks of meat.

You shouldn’t have gone to bed thinking about the past. This only happens when the team creeps into your space; they always do that if you give them a chance. 

You thought grumpily as you walked back to your backdoor. Your cat, Ginger, rubs on your legs when you get into your backyard. Your nightgown has mud at the ends, and your feet are dirty; your toenails have dirt under them. 

A black van passes by as you walk into your home. It hisses in the wind as it drives by. You look at it, worried someone will see the dirt on your nightgown and think you are some senile old woman. 

You get back into your home and sigh. Rubbing the ache in the back of your neck, you start a pot of coffee for yourself before you start your day. You needed a moment for yourself before you had to act all day, masking all your quirks and characteristics to seem normal. 

“You don’t think people can notice you’re a little crazy, right?” 

You froze as you put your cup of coffee on the counter. You know that voice. 

“I mean, I love you for how crazy you are, but you have been losing it a lot lately.” Jackie’s voice says behind you. She always stands in her yellowjacket uniform with curled hair; she looks precisely how she should be remembered. “Don’t want you to bite someone on accident.”

“I’ll try not to, Jackie. But you never know; someone might not know not to put their hand so close to my mouth.” You say back at her. You feel your eyes well; she was always so sad to remember even more when you see her. Her phantom has been long accepted and dreaded, but something that no one could stop. You didn’t know if you even would want her spirit to leave you. 

“Well, you should comb your hair and take a bath. You look like death… smell like it too,” Jackie says, and as if she was never there, she was gone. 

You sigh and rub your eyes. You turn back for your coffee and pour sugar inside of it, “It’s too early for this shit.” You mutter to yourself. You can’t get angry at this. It’s your best hallucination, and you couldn’t get mad with Jackie, never with her. You got to leave, but Jackie never got to the chance to live out of the cedar and butterfly weeds. 

‘96

“Lottie, I know it is… fucking weird as shit. But we can’t pass up a house in the woods, okay? I didn’t see any books wrapped in human skin.” You say softly to Lottie as everyone finishes their breakfast of berries and gossip. You rub the stinging at the back of your neck that can’t go away. 

“I know, but it just doesn’t feel right being in the same house as a dead body,” Lottie says back. 

“Well, maybe we can make something for the house to ease, you know, the energies.” 

“Like charms?” 

“Maybe? I have never dealt with this situation, but I trust you can settle the energies here. You are so good at being a peacekeeper.” You say to her and put your hand on her shoulder; you take it off quickly because you still don’t know where you stand with her after last night's kiss. Because you know if the others were to look at you and check if you were gay, you would be quickly exposed. 

“Thank you, (Y/n)...” She says, looking down at her shoes.”Are we okay? I didn’t mean to make things weird. I don’t even know what I was thinking.”

You smile, hiding the hurt, and quickly say, “Oh, my god, yeah, we are, Lottie. I get it. We have been through a lot, and we just wanted some comfort. It’s not a big deal.” 

Lottie chuckles out of relief and pats your arm; she nods. “Okay, good; I didn’t want anything to be weird.” 

“No, nothing is weird, Lottie.” You reassure her as you move yourself away. You want to peel your skin off, and a sudden loneliness surrounds you. 

The morning moves on quickly. Travis sits on the porch with a gun, and you just stare at him as you walk to the campfire in front of the cabin with the angler's box and pole. 

“Okay, everyone! We need to talk plans!” You announce in your loudest voice. Everyone circles the fire and the porch to listen to you; every morning since the crash, you have made an effort to set goals for the day and get through the days until rescue. “Okay, so we’ve been in these woods for ten days. We are low on food but shouldn’t worry too much longer. We now have a fishing line and a working pole with the help of Lottie and Shauna,” You say as you smile at the two. The others do the same, giving little thanks to the two blushing girls. “So, we’re not hopeless right now; anyone who wants to learn how to fish can come with me and see if you want to do that. But does anyone know how to use the rifle?” You ask the group and consider your list of things to speak about today. 

Couch Ben clears his throat and says, “I went hunting with family before, so I can teach people who want to.” 

You nod your head at him and say, “Okay! Everyone should try it out to see who is the best with a gun. We’ve been out here for a little bit, and I am sure we will have to take care of ourselves until they get here-”

Jackie interrupts, “So, we shouldn’t worry about the food because they must be close by now?” 

You look over at her; you know why she is talking. She doesn’t want a job, and she doesn’t want to worry about getting saved. But it has been 11 days since the crash; you don’t want to kill hope. 

“Well, kind of. We should be prepared if it takes them a few more weeks to find us in these woods. Jackie, we’re in the thick of it right now, so it would be better if we all tried to use the gun and see if we can hunt-” 

“Well, are you going to try out the gun?” She asked you with crossed arms and a well-known tone of annoyance. 

You suck your teeth and tilt your head to her, “No, I am going out fishing. I know I am good at it, so I will do that. You can try to see if you are good at hunting. It’s just a tryout.” To end this small conversation, you say, “Okay, so the goal for today is to find some food and learn some skills tonight. Mari, Laura, and Krystal have already volunteered to clean and do the projects we have started at the cabin, alright? Anything else?”. 

No one else had anything to say. You nod as you hold up the fisher pole and say, “I am going to the beach to fish and make a little project. if anyone wants to come with me, you will find me.” You say this as you see that no one will move to fish with you for some reason. You nod and start heading out of the campsite and walking down Natalie's trail to the lake. A few nights ago, Natalie took the time to crave a path to the beach and plane with small crosses on the trees. She wanted everyone to be able to tell where they were in the woods without getting lost.

The days have gone by quickly lately since you all have found the cabin, and it's been getting to you a little bit. You didn't like the feeling of being able to find your way around the woods, even though it was convenient. It still would never replace your home. You missed home, and you can't tell anyone else about it. 

As you walk down the trail deep in thought, the sun hits your eyes through the leaves, it reminds you of your backyard. It’s precisely like where your tree house stands just outside your home, where you can look out the window and see your mother washing dishes. God, you missed your mom. And as of an hour ago, she should have taken her morning medicine and had her legs messaged because she can’t walk around too much. You feel your throat tighten, and your body has a wave of emotional nausea. 

“Hey, Wait up!” Shauna called from behind you on the trail. 

You stop and smile at her, “Hey, Shauna. You coming with me?” you ask. 

“Yeah, I don’t want to touch the gun. I don’t want to kill anything.” 

“I get it. I hate fish, so I like killing them.” You joke to her with the best deadpan voice you can muster. 

Shauna chuckles and shakes her head softly, “You’re a freak, you know that?” 

“Oh yeah? You’re not going to say that when I get a fish.” You cackled. “You can just journal if you want; I am just going to make you help me make a lazy fisherman.” 

“What’s that?” 

“It’s a heavy stick supported with rocks with a hook and line attached. It just catches fish without anyone doing anything. You just raise the line, and hopefully, a fish is hooked.” 

“We have hooks? What was in that box?” 

“Not a lot, but it had a bait hook and a lure for the pole. It had some rusty hooks and oil for the pole. I made some hooks from the pop things on top of the cans.” 

“The tab?”

“Yeah, I kinda cut them and made them like hooks. I’m thinking about making a net while we’re here.” 

“You think we’ll be here long enough for that?” 

“I don’t know; all I know is I will go crazy if I sit still too much. I overthink, you know.” You confess to Shauna as you come across a wide river a little off the trail from the lake. You and Shauna make some marks on the trees to make a path back to the trail. 

After a while, the two of you settle up after making a lazy fisherman. It was easy to be around Shauna. You’ve been sandbox friends, and that kind of love never dies. You mainly talked about school and the annoying people you knew, like Randy. The biggest meathead you’ve ever met. 

“Randy smells like Salmi and is cold to the touch but also is very hot when you stand near him.” You say to Shauna as you cast a line with a little bug at the end. You sit on the river's edge with Shauna sitting against a tree. 

Shauna laughs out loud as she hugs her journal to her chest. And you keep going on your rant. 

“Honestly, girl, If I ever hear him say the words Faggot or Dyke again, to Misty or Kevin or whoever. I’ll write a story about him eating Jeff’s ass and finally getting to feel Jeff’s sweet touch. Because you can’t tell me he isn’t in love with that guy.” You say with a laugh in your tone as you can’t talk straight. It’s ridiculous, but it was so funny to both of you. Shauna is snorting like a pig next to you, making you fall on your back, laughing. 

“What the fuck?!” 

“He thinks about gay people too much to not be gay!” You laugh louder. Both of you laugh until your sides hurt. It felt nice just to be girls for a moment in the woods, and you pretend you were at the back of your house with Shauna. 

It lulls for a moment before Shauna asks, “Randy called Misty a dyke?” 

“Yeah. At the Spring Fling.” You said with a little bit of sadness going through. You felt so bad for Misty in moments like that. “I remember when me, you, and Jackie got there after getting ready seeing Misty-”

“In that big puffy pink dress,” Shauna says, pointing a finger at you. She remembers, and she smirks a little. At the time, unfortunately, you laughed at her dress for being out of date and seemed to be “trying too hard.” 

“Yeah… But Misty was just there and- I mean, I am not going to say Misty is cool or that she isn’t weird. Sometimes, I don’t know if she isn’t an alien, but she isn’t mean or disgusting.” You say as you gently rile in the line. You feel yourself frown a little bit. “She was standing in the corner without a date and any friends, and Randy just comes up to her and calls her an ugly dyke.” You say a little quieter. 

“Oh my god, that is so horrible; why didn’t you tell me the 411?” 

“I mean, I only knew because she cried when I went into the bathroom. I was a shoulder to cry on; I didn’t want to make it a thing if Misty didn’t want to. I wish I could have done something. Fuck Randy.” 

“Fuck Randy!” Shauna agreed. Shauna looks at you fish peacefully as the sound of gunshots rings in the distance. You look over to her and think about the next thing to discuss. 

“So, Jackie is mad at me, isn’t she? Jackie learning how to shoot a gun?” You ask her, point her to talk to you about Jackie. You love Jackie deeply, but she usually causes drama within the trio. 

“Yeah, she is being a bitch lately.” 

“Yeah, I think she has the worst attitude out of everyone, but I can’t be upset that she is trying to come to terms with the crash.” 

“Okay, but she doesn’t have to fight everything you ask her to do. You’re just trying to help everyone.” 

“Thank you. And yeah, I hope she will stop fighting me every step of the way, but we just don’t know how long we’ll be out here, so I just don’t think we should be so argumentative…” You sigh and look at her with wary eyes, “I’ll talk to her. Like I always do. It’ll be okay. We love each other. No fucking gun will get in the way.” 

“You’re right. It’ll be okay. We must be here for each other before we’re rescued.” 

“You're right.” You say as you keep watching your line in the water. Praying for a fish to take a bite

‘21

You smile as your father laughs at the TV. You rub your hands to apply lotion to his shaking ones. You and he were watching “I Love Lucy” because it was his favorite childhood show. 

He doesn’t have fully solid days constantly anymore, and it's the reason you have him in the nursing home. Somedays, he was just like you when you returned from the wilderness. He wouldn’t eat or do anything but watch TV. He would sit in his chair and watch TV; when it was off, he didn’t know where he was anymore. One day, he forgot where the bathroom was in the home he had lived in for 45 years, and he wet himself before you found him in the living room looking in the china cabinet, thinking it was the bathroom. But other days, he was as sharp as nails, playing chess and talking about things from the 70s like it was yesterday. 

You felt your heart drop to your stomach when he was diagnosed with Parkinson’s and early-set dementia, but you were calm. You were now an adult with savings and a career, and you had the means to care for him now. To repay him for him nursing you after you came back. 

You remember the nights he would pet your hair back after you vomited from episodes of PTSD. How he would sit in your bedroom holding you in his lap with tears in his eyes, listening to you scream in his chest. He just sat there with you and let you sob; no words were needed. He just stood there and let you cling like a little girl again. He let you yell at him and berate him as if he were the wilderness himself because he knew you weren’t yelling at him. He knew when to push you forward and when you needed to be held. 

He helped you through the 5 years of healing after you were found. You had a total of 3 surgeries to make your brain's blood vessels normal again. You had to wear a splint on your neck for 1 year. You had to have countless MRIs throughout your life. Countless painful nights as your neck stabbed at you and caused you to feel no comfort. Your dad was always there with you, sitting beside you at every doctor's appointment and every event. He would only sit outside the waiting room for your therapy sessions. 

Your father looks at you with (e/c) eyes and a soft smile, “I’m so happy to see you, peanut.  How is your job?”

“Well, I'm still stuck around the last few chapters of my trilogy, Trying to fight my publisher for more time," you say as you let his shaking hand down and go to his other to lotion them. They were callous and dry. Your father's hard work was shown in his battered hands, which shivered. “You took a shower already?”

“Yeah, I wanted to look nice for you.” He rasps with a chuckle, his wrinkled face still holding his cheeky smile. He had the same soul as he always had, and moments like these make you think of happy memories of being in the woods with him and your mom. 

“Oh, thank you, dad! I was going to say it didn’t smell like a caveman in here.” You chuckle back with him as you finish rubbing the lotion on his other hand. 

“Oh, hush, you!” He slowly pokes your side and cheek, holding a smile. 

“No.” You giggle back at him as you stand up, your hands moving to comb his hair. “Have the nurses been kind to you?”

“Sweethearts. Kirsta, the night shift nurse, is very kind. She comes in here when I sleep and never has a bad attitude.” He said as he leisurely scratches his nose, “Don’t hate the food.” 

“Well, that's good, Dad.” You say as you look down at him. He looked clean and comfortable in his recliner. “I should get going. I need to get a few words down before I go to bed.” 

“Alright, Peanut.” He says and takes you in. He grabs your hand gingerly and says, “I love you. Be safe. Text me when you get home.” 

You chuckle and nod your head. You find it adorable that your father still wants you to tell him whenever you leave him. Even when you lived with him at your grown age, he wanted to know you were safe. “Of course, Dad! Don’t worry.” 

“You better, " he says as he points at you with a shaking finger. He was so cute to you at that moment. You just laugh and nod your head to him. “I will!” you state back with a big smile.

You leave his room and start walking down the hallway of the nursing home. Walking down the halls, you can hear the other residents talking and watching TV.

You hear a ping on your phone and see Shauna texting you again. You sigh as you click on the notification. 

Shauna  Okay so I did something bad.  You  Like what? Did you rear-end someone again? Shauna  No  Shauna Dinner You Omg you went to the dinner? What happened? Shauna Jeff is cheating  Shauna Jeff is cheating on me, and he isn’t trying to fix some fucking data system. I am just so done. Shauna So I went to dinner.  Shauna  And I stayed for dessert.  You  Omg you didn’t Shauna Yep, and I am going to see him again tonight. You  Shit Shauna!  You I mean, get your lick back but don’t go too far. 

As you approached the front of the nursing home, which had a large circle desk for the nurses, you turned on the curve and accidentally tripped over another woman. 

You look at the woman with a smile, which drops for a second because you know her. It was Misty. You didn’t realize she worked here, where your father is, but you quickly perk your lips up again.

“Oh my god, Misty!” 

“(Y/n)! What are you doing here?” 

“Oh, well. My dad has been here for a while, and I am here to visit! I didn’t know we were going to meet again so soon.” 

“I was picking up my Tupperware, which I left yesterday.” She shows you her red-top Tupperware in her oversized purse. “I was going to ask you if you wanted to have Chocolate Martinis at Antonio’s; they are outstanding.” 

You didn’t want to. You have been seeing the team too much again, and you had sex with Shauna last night. You become increasingly like how you used to be when you get around these women. 

“Sure! You wanna pick me up from my house?” You blurt without a second to stop yourself. You wanted to kick yourself, but you couldn’t stop it. 

“Great!” Misty beams with a big smile as you both leave the nursing home. “I’ll tell you about the Travis situation, " she adds as she walks beside you. 

‘96

You and Shauna sat beside the riverbank for a long time, talking about everything and nothing. It didn’t feel like you were doing anything as you and she gossiped about the others in the wilderness. It was relaxing and pleasing. You kept looking down to your now two fishing lines for any signs of fish. The sounds of gunfire going off in the distance, in an odd way, were comforting because you knew where everyone else was while being far away. 

While waiting for the fish, you started talking about school and dances- anything to keep your mind busy. 

“So, after my mom curled my hair and did my makeup, she left me to get my dress on. You remember the one purple one with the ruffles.” 

“Sophmore year homecoming, right?” Shauna asks as she points to you, trying to remember. 

“Yeah, that one. I don’t know if I have ever told you, but the zipper popped open when I put on the dress.” You said with a smile hurting your cheeks as you laughed loudly from your gut at your story. It used to make you cry thinking about that time, but now it is funny. Shauna bubbled in laughter beside you as you continued, “She was yelling at me, crying and sobbing, that I was going to that dance whether I liked it or not. She just started sewing me into the dress.” 

“No fucking way your mom sewed you into a dress!” Shauna laughed with you as she grabbed your arm. Her eyes water with tears as she laughs with you. 

“No, she did! It was the last time I ever got anything from Macy’s.” You giggle as you glance back to the fishing line one more time. 

Shauna began to chuckle softly, her eyes crinkling slightly as she listened to your story. It made her miss everyday life before the crash. "God, homecoming. I wish we were back there instead of this," Shauna motioned to the wilderness around us with a sigh.

"Yeah, same. I would much rather be crying about being fat over this any day." You sign as you lean on Shauna’s shoulder. You try to keep the good vibes that were made, so you smile and nudge her, "But, hey, we have each other, and people are looking for us. They have to be."

Shauna smiled softly as you moved closer to her. She smiled at you, but inside, she wasn't sure if she believed you'd be found. But she didn't want to worry you. "Yeah, of course. Maybe we're already on the news," she added, attempting to sound optimistic.

"Oh yeah, I don't know how people haven't heard about us,” You said quickly after she finished because you believed you were headline news. “ All our families must be doing everything to find us, and they would have known as soon as the plane didn't land." You added a lump in your throat growing as you said families. You thought about your family's reaction and everyone’s family’s reaction to them being missing. You couldn't imagine the fear and worry they must be experiencing, not knowing where you all were. But you tried hard to push those thoughts to the back of your mind, needing to remain strong.

"I'm sure they're out there looking for us. They'll find us," she said, mostly trying to persuade herself and you. 

"They will, and all we have to do is wait until they do." You nudge her again and smile, saying, “Besides, we have good company.”

As you move your head back, you see the lure dramatically dunking into the water. You quickly grab your pole and start to reel in the fish. As ywou start to move, you can feel how heavy the fish is on the other end. 

“Whoa, oh my god, did you catch a fish?” Shauna asks in excitement as she sits up on her knees beside you and looks at the water. 

“Trying to!” You say back as you keep reeling in the fish. 

Suddenly, after struggling with the reel a little bit, you pull up two fish on one hook. You squeal in happiness as you quickly grab the two fish with pride. Shauna squeals with you as you hold the two big fish. 

You and Shauna hug each other happily as you hold the pole up, “Holy shit! Holy shit Shauna!” 

“They are fucking huge!” Shauna gushed as she grabbed one of the fish and immediately cringed at the feeling of the fish’s slimy-scaled skin. “Gross” 

“I know, right? Come on, let's get this back to the cabin before we get some more,” you say with a big smile. You feel relieved. You all will eat tonight and be full tonight. Your dad would be very proud of you. 

You walk back to the cabin in triumph as you laugh and talk with Shauna all the way up the trail. Before too long, you arrive at the cabin, and everyone starts to finish off firing the gun. 

Van's face brightens like a light bulb as she sees you two walk to the cabin with dinner: “Whoa! Look at you!” 

Everyone’s attention turns to you, and they cheer for you both on for the find. 

“You got a fish!” Jackie squealed as she sat up from her seat on the cabin steps. Mari came over and grabbed the fish with a big smile, holding the fish from the mouth with her finger. “No, they caught two fish!” Mari said back, she looked into its lifeless eye. 

“I didn’t do anything.” Shauna chuckled as you shook your head, wanting to share the praise with her. 

You roll your eyes and look back to Mari. You notice behind Mari that Natalie is looking at you with a serious face that you can’t place in your mind. You couldn’t tell if Natalie was angry, happy, or disgusted by the fish. 

“Yeah, the pole still works, thank god.” You chuckle as you put the pole on the wood seat you all have made around the fireplace. You add, “I think it’s a good sign we got two fish. Maybe it’s the woods telling us we’ll be okay until we’re found.” 

You look up to the group, and your eyes meet Lottie’s as if you were saying, “See, told you so” with your eyes. She warily smiles at you and looks down as you silently converse with just the context from earlier. 

“You are you trying to sound like Miss Cleo? Wanna read my future?” Jackie jokes and snickers at your comments, dismissing them as stupid. You chuckle and shake your head, “No, Jackie, I’m being hopeful! I can overread a thing or two.” You say as you push her shoulder; she looks at you and chuckles. 

You and Mari let the fish rest on the cabin table before you descaled them for dinner tonight. There was more than enough for everyone to eat, and it made you feel so proud to be able to provide dinner for everyone. And because you were going to wait anyway, you both put a bowl on top of the fish to keep it fresh until you return from everyone testing out shooting on cans. 

You didn’t care much for the gun or the loud noise of it going off, it unsettled you deeply. It made you feel uncomfortable and cringe at the ringing in your ears. 

Lottie and Van placed the old cans on a log infront of the group, quickly retreating into the brush of the woods. With your arms crossed, you lean against a tree, waiting for everyone to finish practicing there. 

“Team, this is how this will go down—one final round for all the marbles. You got five targets, five shots each. Mari, can you start us off?’ 

“Um, just a thought. Shouldn’t we be saving bullets, you know?” Laura Lee added with concern in her voice. 

“Uh, yeah, in theory, but lucky for us, the nutjob who lived here before was apparently hoarding for the apocalypse.” Couch Ben reassured as best he could. You could tell he didn’t want to be here, but he was putting up as much of a front as he could.

Mari fires a shot at the cans. You quickly cover your ears as you cringe at the boom. She missed the can, and you recoil before she goes again. 

“The cans,” Travis mocks as he looks at her with narrowed, judgemental eyes. You couldn’t stand him in any way lately. His mere voice made you wish it was a gunshot. “You’re-You’re aiming for the cans.” 

“Shut up,” Mari snapped at him as she cocks the gun, still holding it to the cans. 

“Do you like being this way?” Natalie says to Travis, her eyes slowly rolling to him in annoyance. Waiting for the gunshot, you haven’t moved your hands from your ears. 

“If you shit the bed again, you gonna ask for another do-over?” 

Natalie shakes her head at him quietly as you glare at him. You just want him to shut up with his edgy and macho persona so everyone can get on with this stupid practice. You added, “You don’t ask for a do-over, you just clean your fucking bed, we are shooting cans, idiot.” 

Your hands aren’t as firmly over your ears as Mari fires again. You flinch again as you cover them. Your eyes locked in a broad expression as you looked at the cans; the startling way the sound ripped through you, made you freeze like a deer in the woods, hoping the bullet wasn’t for them. 

And she fires again quickly, this time hitting a can. You smile and nod at her, keeping your hands over your ears. You now see the eyes on you as you react to the sounds. You feel a blush over your body as embarrassment comes over you, but you can’t bring yourself to pull your hands down. “Hey. All right.” Couch Ben says calmly but clearly happy she finally hit a can. “Good job, Mari.”  Everyone slowly claps for her. She smiles, and as she walks back to Akilah, she thrusts the Gun into Travis’s hands. 

Travis immediately starts preparing to shoot at the cans, and he hits four cans until he misses his first. 

“So close, flex.” Natalie teased him from behind. You looked at her with a snicker at her comment. 

Suddenly, Travis turns around with the gun ready in his hand, and he aims it at Natalie’s face. “Don’t fucking call me that!”

“Whoa!” You gasp as you step closer to Natalie out of instinct to protect your friend, your eyes as wide as saucers. 

“Travis! Put the gun down.” Couch Ben shouts demands at him, His eyes wide with panic because he can’t stand and take it away from him. 

You don’t even think as you yell, “Put the fucking gun down, Travis! What the fuck are you doing?” 

He then turns around and shoots at the cans after an intense silence. You cringe again at the sound of his gun. 

“All right, that’s, uh-yeah, that’s good shooting, Martinez. Don’t ever do that again.” Couch Ben says awkwardly as everyone quietly watches on with tension in their shoulders. You felt yourself seething with anger bubbling in your stomach. 

“Don’t choke. Again.” He says to Natalie with an antagonistic glare. 

He then backs away and stands near you. You look at him with disgust as you spit at his feet, “Stand away from me, asshole.” You hiss at him.

He looks at you in surprise that you are still so angry at him that you just keep your mean mug on him, and he steps away. He was surprised at your sudden outburst, as did everyone behind you because you were known for being overly friendly, but you ensured he knew not to be near you. 

You look at Natalie and nod, “You got this, girl.” you say. You cover your ears quickly before she does anything else.

Natalie looks at Travis with the same intensity as you and takes a smooth, deep breath. She then puts the gun to her shoulder and hits each can without hesitation. One by One, they drop to the forest floor. She then smiles slowly as she finishes. Everyone cheers and applauds her for showing Travis up.

You snicker as you look at her. Natalie moves her head towards you first. Meeting your eyes with happy eyes and a big smile, she looks at you quickly over and looks away to the other. You blush quickly, trying not to overthink about her looking for your approval first and your praise, and you don’t think much about her looking you over. She sure wasn’t checking you out. 

After the gun practice, everyone searched for berries and mushrooms in the woods. Travis left to the cabin with his tail tucked between his legs after you kept telling him to go away. He left after you said that you don’t trust him and no one should because he acts like a brat. He looked hurt and looked around at the other girls with eyes that screamed he regretted what he did with the gun, but no one had his back. He just stepped back, and you shook your head as you turned to the others. 

“Are any of these, like, Maple syrup trees?” Laura Lee asks as she looks up at the tall sycamore tree.

“What?” Tai questions as she walks behind her, towards the clearing a few feet away. 

“I don’t know,” Laura Lee mumbled as she walked away. She softly touched your shoulder as she walked by, needing you to stabilize her from the trail's incline. 

You found some chestnuts on the ground. They were fresh and not ready yet, and you put them in your pocket as you heard Akilah smack Misty’s hand. 

“Don’t eat that kind,” Akilah panicked as she pushed the mushroom in Misty’s hand on the forest floor. “It’s poisonous.” 

Misty looks at her with big eyes and a little shaky hands. 

Van says, sarcastically, “Like “Kill you” poisonous, or like, “trip your balls off” poisonous?”

“What? I don’t know. My Girl Scout leader didn’t get all that specific about it.” 

” (y/n)?” Taissa asks as she kneels to the ground with Mari.

You look over to Taissa, looking at tiny button-like mushrooms that grow from decaying animals. 

“Don’t eat that one either. That's a dead mushroom. It is too new to eat if we could eat it. It would be like eating rotting meat. Don’t even touch.” You say as you look for more nuts on the forest ground. “Try to look for nuts. They are on the ground. If it has a hole, just drop it for the animals.” 

“Well, could you just show us something edible so we can get going?” Misty asks kindly, impatiently—this is the first time you have heard her sound like that. 

Taissa looks behind her to Misty, rising to stand over her, “What’s the big furry?” 

“Coach needs a sponge bath?” Van teases Misty with a smirk, and you feel one grow on your lips at the joke, too. Everyone pauses to look at Misty, animals looking down at the runt. As a snicker comes to their lips, Taissa fully laughs, covering her mouth. 

“That’s-That’s so mean.” Taissa laughs as she looks to the ground. Everyone softly holds their laughs as Misty storms off. Van laughs as Misty rushes past and giggles out, “I’m sorry. Whatever.” 

Van puts her arm around Taissa’s shoulders, and you look at them. Jealousy courses through you. Why couldn’t you have someone like they do? 

“Get off me!” Taissa patted Van’s arm away. In response, Van smears a smash berry she hid on her finger on Taissa’s face. “Did you put a berry on me?”

“I did.” Van said, taking her arm off her, and moved herself towards you. 

“Okay, so, everyone, we just need to focus. We know we can’t touch those and those ones.” Taissa spoke to the group, trying to lead them back on track,

“No mushrooms, No mushrooms.” Van says as she starts to look up the trees for the chestnuts. 

“Uh, Guys…” Jackie called out from a few yards away. You all moved quickly to her voice out of concern that she had encountered a wild animal in the woods.

 “Jackie? “What is it?” you called back as you rushed to her. 

“Guys, come here!” Jackie laughed.

“Look! Holy Shit!” Jackie exclaimed. You come over some trees and bushes to see Jackie slapping the door of a small personal plane that has vines and moss growing on it. The woods themselves are almost swallowing it, as it has had overgrowth for at least a decade, only covering and trapping it in place.

“W-what is this doing here?” Van asks in disbelief. 

“It must have been the dead guy’s.” Jackie says as she looks at the wheels being stuck in the mud. 

Laura Lee quickly finds the door and opens it, “I wonder if It still works?” Laura Lee questioned to no one in particular. 

Van gently spins the propeller, “Holy fuck!” 

Laura Lee is inside the plane, messing around loudly. You don’t want to get near that thing. You never want to be near a plane again. You stand away as you watch them touch the plane in excitement, everyone else coming closer to the plane.

Suddenly, as your anxieties manifested themselves to life, the plane started from Van’s spinning the propeller and Laura Lee messing around inside. The engine started with a startling rattle as it crept forward. 

“Holy shit.” Van says as she steps back in shock. Jackie is wholly frozen until she suddenly pushes Van out of the way of the plane. 

“Back away! What the fuck?” Jackie says as she is frozen in place.

“Stop the fucking plane!” You scream out to the plane. You feel yourself planted to the ground. You didn’t even react when Van fell to the ground. Everyone yells to stop the plane, and Laura Lee panics inside the plane, crying out, “I’m trying! I’m trying!” 

The plane stopped just in time to avoid harming Jackie. She looked at the plane with buggy, big eyes and took a deep breath of relief. 

Everyone pauses after the intense change of events. You stand frozen in silence as you look down at the wheels and wings. You had an intrusive thought creep into your mind, but you quieted quickly before speaking it out. 

Lottie looks on, almost disassociated, as she says, “It didn’t want him to leave.” 

You turn your head to her and look at her deeply concernedly. She says what you had thought. Maybe the wilderness didn’t want the mummy to leave. That's why he did what he did in the attic and why the air was so suffocating. 

‘21

You giggle at Misty’s goofy joke about old men as you try not to spit out the chocolate martini in your mouth. Earlier today, Misty called you to ask how you were doing after the road trip because she thought the air between you and Natalie was off. She just wanted to check up. It ended up with you sitting across from her at an Italian restaurant. 

“Yeah, so I just turned off the oxygen tank.” She says to add on to the joke, which kind of makes you laugh harder because you can see her doing that. 

“Stop, you didn’t!” You giggle again as you try to hide your face with a napkin; your face is red hot. 

“I didn’t-” Misty laughs with you as she sips on her chocolate martini. She says, “I wouldn’t do that to anyone.” 

“No, you wouldn’t.” You say it with some sternness from Misty’s character. You make her feel more supported if you sometimes reaffirm what she wants to be seen as. You see her in that way. No one likes to be told who they are. 

You notice her laugh, look slightly behind you briefly, and note it. 

“Well, So, How is your work? Any new boos” Misty asks as she takes another sip of her martini. You feel yourself smile at the question and know she asks for more profound reasons. 

“No, no, nothing special about work. And just little flings here and there. Keep the bed warm,” you say as you look at Misty’s eyes intently. You feel a little tense when you ask, “And you? How is it going with Kevin?” You ask with a soft joke about the last time you saw each other. 

Misty became slightly flustered momentarily and shook her head, “I was trying to get Natalie out of her comfort zone.” Looking behind you again, she says, “But more or less the same. No one special enough to say they dated Misty Quigley.” 

You chuckle and smile at Misty’s last comment, but you look behind you as soon as she finishes talking out of curiosity. You see behind a window of the inside of the restaurant. Dressed up nice, Misty is holding her head on her fist, listening to the man across from her, Natalie. Misty is following Natalie. 

“Misty-”

“I can explain!” Misty says as she blabbers on, “I was trying to keep an eye on her and make sure she is okay after seeing Travis because she might do something crazy or relapse.” 

You quietly listen to Misty explain herself with a soft smile as you scoff softly, pulling out your phone, “And here I thought you wanted to spend time with little old me.” 

Misty squeals, “I did want to see you. I wanted to get a drink.” 

“It’s okay.” You chuckle softly and say, “Sometimes you trade friends out for a night out. It’s alright, girl.” 

Suddenly, Misty straightens her back and smiles softly. She lifts her drink to her lips as Natalie rushes to your table. You lean back on your chair with wide eyes, holding your chocolate martini. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Natalie hissed to Misty, standing in a black dress. She was clearly on a fate tonight, and you couldn’t help but feel a mumbling jealousy in your stomach as you looked at her.  

“Okay, so, don’t look now, but,” Misty lowers her voice to a whisper and says, “that reporter, Jessica Roberts, is sitting at the bar right now. She’s watching you.” 

“And what are you doing?” Natalie tilted her head to the side as she looked at Misty with suspicious eyes, her tone clear of annoyance. 

“I’m having your back.” Misty stated. 

“Y-you’re having my…” Natalie is in disbelief. “How did you even know I was even here?” 

“I’m a citizen detective, " Misty said, looking at Natalie with big, innocent eyes. 

“I hate to break it to you, but we’re not Rizzoli and Isles. I don’t need you.” 

“Yeah, but, Natalie-” 

“Go the fuck home.” Natalie spat. 

“Alright, you need to stop talking to Misty like that-” You finally cut yourself into the conversation.

“Who are you speaking to?” Natalie snapped her head to you and said, “I expect this from Misty, but you? I don’t understand why you are here.” 

“I’m here, having a drink with Misty. I saw her at her job, and we decided to get drinks.” 

“Oh please, you came here to spy on me! How fucking pathetic. Don’t you have to write a book about rubbing off a genie?” She hissed at you and looked daggers into you. She went too far in your eyes now, and you lean on your elbow on the table as you look back into her eyes. 

“Oh, aren’t you so strong and high mighty?” You hiss lowly to Natalie. Ever since the night in the woods with Natalie, you have had difficulty holding back your teeth when you feel cornered, even a little. “Misty is here protecting you and having your back like always. Because Jessica,” You point to the bar, Jessica looking to the bartender to order another drink, “Is here waiting for you to relapse to spill the beans about it. Stop biting at people trying to be there for you; you might not be so alone. Now go drink, and go on your date with goth freak Kevin Tang.” You cut coldly as you look into Natalie’s blue eyes. You grab your drink, lean back in your chair, take a sip.

“Make sure you don’t go too far. You might need to get another one of your coins, right? What does that make it 9 times you have gotten a sobriety coin?” you stab at her and mention her many times in AA. You didn’t care how hurtful or unnecessary your anger was to her. You must say it to her, and she needed to hear it. She needed to back off Misty. 

It was intense, and it was real. 

You didn’t need to bite so hard. But she didn’t need to bite first.

You two hold a glare as Natalie steps back and scowls at you. She doesn’t say a word. You know why. 

It’s because you are right.   

You feel Misty touching your hand and saying, “Are you alright? That was pretty harsh.” Once, Natalie returned to her table with a perfect smile mask. 

“I’m alright. But I think we should go now.” You say softly as you touch Misty’s hand back, 

Misty holds your hand with a squeeze quickly. She wants to hold you. You have protected her yet again from the wolves in the group. 

You both held the heavy silence as you softly panted a bit.  You felt it in the car; it was surrounding and whole. You were happy and open, as always. 

In the car, you look over to Misty, noticing the flustered face she holds. She was always awkward, but you always found her adoring. As you both drive down to your home, the trees that pass hypnotize you into a calm place. You feel your body, and with each breath you take, cold air enters your nose, and an image of last night's dream comes to your mind. Running past trees, you felt as if you were back there somehow. Maybe it was because of the anniversary, the reporter, or Travis’s death; you couldn’t pinpoint it, but you felt a forgotten hunger you hadn’t felt in a long time. You let it take over like it did them because of the exciting thrill of it all again. It felt youthful and intense. 

“Misty.” 

“Yes?” 

“Do you miss me?” You ask her as you softly touch a lint off her shoulder.

“W-what do you mean? I have been with you for the past two hours.” She says as she drives down your street. 

“No. No, Misty.” You chuckle, and the hunger comes over you. You want to feel warm; you have been far too cold lately. “Have you missed me and the warmth we shared?”

You don’t understand yourself. You sound like you did all those years ago in the woods. How sexual you became without trying. It felt like the air around us darkened into lustful wants and licks. How natural you were with your body. 

Misty was caught off guard by how quickly your words changed the car's atmosphere. The memories of the wilderness and how you looked her over suddenly brought back feelings that she thought were long gone. Misty’s throat tightened, and her heart quickened as she glanced over at you, taking in the expression on your face as you asked her the question. She slowly parked the car, her hands gripping the steering wheel tight “Y-yeah, I did…”

Your hand snakes onto Misty’s inner thigh, and your thumb rubs the fabric of her jeans. Your eyes stare down at your hand. 

“Would you like to feel my heat again?” you whisper, feeling your hot breath hitting off her cheek. You don’t understand the tingling and desperatiness your cunt feels at this moment. You shouldn’t have touched her, spoken to her, or even considered thinking about her. You knew better than to let yourself cave into your primal instincts, instincts you have because of the wilderness with them. All the hurt in the woods manifested into want as it always did.   

Misty’s breath hitches at the feeling of your hand on her thigh, and her heartbeat quickens in her chest as her skin tingles under your touch. It's almost as if no time has passed at all. Your words and desperate tone send a shiver down her spine as she glances over at you, her eyes darkening with lust and need. “Yes… please.” She whispered back, her voice filled with want. Your hand moves up her thigh and softly rubs the fabric at the crotch of her jeans. You could feel her heat underneath. 

You lunged at Misty, cupping her cheeks with your hands. You pulled her into your face and kissed her. Your lips met and mashed together as your hands moved closer to her, pushing her back against the driver’s side door. Thank God you live on a dirt road. 

Misty lets a small gasp into the kiss as your hand moves up her thigh. Her body already feels as if it's on fire. She responds to the kiss passionately, her desire for you growing with each passing second. She reaches up and grips your hair, pulling you closer as she deepens the kiss, her tongue exploring your mouth with desperate need.

(y/n) hands quickly work to unbutton Misty's jeans. You move your kisses off Misty's lips to her jaw and neck. Misty lets out a small moan as your lips move down her jaw. She leans her head back and closes her eyes, surrendering herself to the feel of your lips on her skin. The feel of your tongue moving down her neck, sending small licks and nips here and there, makes her shiver in pleasure. You softly growl in lust as you start to pull the jeans and underwear down her pale legs, your thumb touching the bare skin. She spreads her legs farther apart, allowing you to pull her jeans and underwear down, her breathing getting more labored with each passing second. 

You quickly push your two fingers inside of Misty’s weeping cunt, and she dramatically moves her leg to the center console for you to have more of her. You move her head from her neck and just look at her as you push inside of her, a gasp rattling the car escapes from her. 

You look into her brown eyes for a moment as you see when pleasure takes over her being as you feel her walls tighten around your fingers. You feel her pink, wet hole flex and twitch to your fingers; it feels like she hasn’t had sex in a long time as you start to pump your fingers into her. 

Her hand locks into your hair, or more so your head, as she rubs her other hand on your shoulder. She softly pushes you down to her cunt as she rolls her head back in a deep moan. You feel the vibration on the pads of your pointer and middle fingers. You feel the hotness of her cunt as you lean down, her musk clouding your judgment and making you think of only one thing. 

You lean down, pushing your body to the floor of the passenger’s seat, licking her cunt. You taste her flavor and wetness leaking from her clit. You circle your tongue around the bulb with reckless abandon. You feel her gushing onto your fingers, and her loud moans only encourage you to go harder. 

“(y-y/n)! Honey- right there, yeah!” Misty’s needy, desperate moans fill the car up with hot air. Her legs shake as she rolls her eyes.  She panted like an animal as you tongue into her, sucking up all her wetness as you could. You felt throbbing in your wrist as you curled your fingers up to touch her soft spot. You could have been here for days and not cared. 

Misty grabs her breast as she arches her back to your mouth. She moaned louder and louder to tell you she was going to cum, but you didn’t care. You kept licking and sucking her juices. 

“Sweet Jesus!” Misty whispers to the air as she feels you fuck her harder with your mouth. She finally lets out a high-pitched, needy groan as her feet curl, legs twitching. Her eyes closed as her head hit the glass of her door, and she leaned back to relish in the feeling. You bury yourself in her folds, looking up from her lap, and watch as she shivers, as your tongue doesn’t stop. 

You move your mouth up to her clit again and your fingers into her hole, pounding her with an elemental need to feel your fingers caress her cervix. You don’t move again. You don’t care how uncomfortable it felt as your legs were pinched into the floor, or how the cupholder stabbed into your rib, or that your neck was throbbing so that you could hear your heartbeat. You wanted her, and you wanted to feel her ultimately come undone to your fingers again.

‘96 

The clattering of some forks and spoons scrap across the plates, people talking over everyone else, and the heat of the fire warm the cabin’s first floor. Everyone was in a better mood after shooting practice and settling for the night. Travis sits alone in the corner of the room, rejected by everyone tonight as punishment. You felt yourself thinking about him being sad and alone in the corner. “Good.” 

Jackie and Shauna sit beside you at the table, your attention entirely on them and their discussion about how Pamala Anderson’s sex tape scandal. 

“I mean, she shouldn’t have been a slut and done it, is all I have to say.” Jackie shrugged and took a bite of the white fish, and her face cringed when she pulled out a small bone. 

“No!” You say with a chuckle and shake of your head, “Someone shouldn’t have robbed their safe and sold the sex tape.” 

“She shouldn’t have even done it. Like, who just does a porno if they are not a slut?” 

“She was with her husband. Who else are you supposed to have a sex tape with?” Shauna asked as she shook her head at Jackie.

“No one! No one should ever do a porn! It's so degrading.”  

“I don’t know, I don’t know how someone would want to make one, but she wasn’t with a whole lot of guys.  She’s married to Tommy Lee. And it was supposed to be his thing for tour.”

“Yeah, who wouldn’t think a Mötley Crüe member would have a sex tape? I wouldn’t be surprised if they taped the many other women they have fucked,” You say as you delightfully eat the fish. It was fresh and delicious after days of only eating berries and leftover snacks you could find from the crash. You are having meat, and it feels like a real treat as you haven’t tasted anything as delicious in weeks. 

Before you could continue, Van touched your shoulder as you looked at Jackie. You turned to her as she said, “Hey, do you have a sweater I can burrow? I don’t think anyone else has anything I can wear.” 

You smiled big at Vanessa, nodding your head, and stood up. “Yeah, I have a few.” 

“Where are you going?” Jackie asks sassily as you get up. She tilts her eyes at you. 

Shauna looks up at you and is slightly confused, but she also asks, “Are you coming back?” 

“Yeah, just getting something for Van, hold up.” You say as you start to walk away. 

“Thanks, (y/n). You're a lifesaver.” Van beams as her smile moves with you. You touch her shoulder as you walk past her, and you walk over to the other side of the cabin to the bags. 

You were one of the lucky ones that found all your luggage. You had your carry-on, luggage, and purse still intact and untouched from the fire. You were so happy to have your journal and book you haven’t finished, but you felt bad for everyone still looking for their things. Van could only find her carry-on; some didn’t have anything they packed. You all carried every bag you could find, but some still had missing clothes. Because of that, Van has been coming to you to burrow clothes as the only other heavy girl much smaller than you, so you let her burrow your shirts and hoodies since the crash.

 A small sandwich bag falls to the floor as you open the bag and grab the heavy yellowjackets sweatshirt. It was your stash of weed with the rolling papers and filters. You blush as you quickly grab the bag from the ground and put it into your jeans pocket. You look behind you to see if anyone has seen that, with embarrassment painted all over your face.

You walk back over to Van and hand her the hoodie. You smile widely as you sit down. You didn’t want everyone to know you had weed, but you think that tonight would be the best night to do anything. You smile as you whisper into Jackie’s ear, “I have weed.” 

She stops eating instantly, and her eyes bug out. She looks over at you and laughs, “What?” 

You hit her shoulder softly as she laughs again, “You have what?” 

“What?” Shauna asks, besides Jackie, and when you two make eye contact, it makes you laugh. 

You whisper in Jackie’s ear again. “I have weed. Would we like a joint?” Jackie laughs and hits you on the shoulder, her mouth wide open in shock and amusement. She nods her head and whispers to Shauna, and you turn your head to Van, “Hey, I have a joint-” 

“What?” Van asks as she leans her ear towards your lips. Your lips accidentally graze her ear, and you say, “I have a joint. Tell the other seniors. Don’t be suspicious; don’t tell the underclassmen.” 

Van smirk grew wide on her freckled face as she nods her head, she says. “Okay, I’ll let them know. When are we doing this?” 

“When everyone is asleep, " you tell her, knowing that if anyone overhears you, they will not understand what you are discussing. 

 You light the joint with a twig, puffing the air out of the end of the filter. You hear muffled giggles from Jackie and Shauna beside you. " Stop laughing,” you snicker back and pull the joint from your lips. You pull Shauna and Jackie to the back of the cabin and show them the weed you packed on the plane. You all decide to roll one out. 

“Didn’t know you would have the good stuff,” Jackie smirks with an amused laugh in her voice. She takes a puff and hands it to Shauna with a muffled cough. 

Shauna laughs softly as she also smokes and coughs in response to inhaling the smoke. She covers her mouth with her elbow, and you laugh at her. 

Van moves behind the cabin's hunter shed, and Taissa, Natalie, and Lottie follow her. 

“Hey!" you say to them as you take a hit of the joint and blow the smoke quickly.

Natalie says to you, “Damn, (y/n). Didn’t know you were such a criminal. Hand that over to me.”

You giggle happily as you hand it over to Natalie. You look up at her from your spot on the log. She looks down at you with heavy eyes as she takes a hit. She slowly looks over your face again before handing it over to Van. You felt a blush come over you again as you felt her eyes scan over your features, and you didn’t know what to do. You felt insecure and flattered at the attention but still deeply hesitated to meet her eyes. 

Natalie, who never passes up a joint, reaches out her hand to take it from you while Taissa eyes it. Lottie looks at the joint and then at you with a tiny bit of concern; the others knew she’d probably be the one most concerned about the joint.

“Where’d you get that from?” Nat asks as she inhales the joint.

You felt yourself joke, “Where do you think I got weed from?’ 

“I don’t know. A drug dealer.” Van jokes to you with a scrunch of her freckled nose. 

“Sort of. My mom is the one who has the weed. She has a weed card since she got diagnosed with cancer.” You said without realizing the words from your throat. You hadn’t thought about your mom almost all day, “She grows some behind our house in the woods, Natalie,” You point at her jokingly, “Don’t get any ideas. You have to buy that shit.” 

Everyone laughs loudly at your joke. Lottie takes the joint and smiles, holding the smoke in her mouth. You look at your feet, and suddenly, your mother comes to mind. You think about your mom, and a lump grows in your throat. Did she take her night medicine? Is she watching Frasier? Is she worrying about you?  

From the side of the shed, there is a crunch of leaves and twigs, and a petite figure comes from behind the shed. Natalie turns herself and turns back to face you. She gives you a face of “fuck it's her again.” 

Misty comes from the shed, pushing a curl behind her ear as she looks at the group. You smile at her as Jackie rolls her eyes, smoking the joint beside you. 

“Hey Misty! What are you doing here?” 

“H-hi. I was going to the bathroom. What are you guys doing?” she asks nervously as she approaches the group. 

“Drugs.” Lottie says as she looks at Misty with a humorous tone. 

You laugh as you take the joint from Jackie and wave your hand to Misty to enter the circle, “Come closer, it’s okay; it’s legal here.” You joke, and it makes everyone laugh with bloodshot eyes. Misty chuckles and looks around at everyone in approval. Sometimes, it was painful to see her so desperate for some kind of friendship that it made you feel bad, so in your intoxicated state, you pulled your hand out for her, “You can try it if you want to, Misty. Sit.” 

Misty’s eyes looked wide as everyone turned their head towards you as you invited her into the smoke circle, but no one stopped you. They seemed also to want to see what Misty does. 

“I-I can? Is it safe?” she asks as she approaches the log beside you. 

Jackie snickered and looked at Misty with narrow eyes, “No, that’s why we are all smoking on it.” She condescended. 

You shake your head and take Misty’s hand. “Ignore her. Just don’t take a huge hit. You gotta get used to it, then you’ll want more,” You told Misty gently. You puff the joint before it goes out in the wind. Your body is starting to relax and calm in the woods, and your neck doesn’t hurt as much as it did earlier. 

You hand Misty the joint, and everyone watching the scene plays out with amused eyes. You gently hold your hand over hers to guide her. “Have you ever smoked a cigarette?” 

“No, they’re bad for you.” 

You chuckle and nod, “Yes, but they are just like weed. You take small inhales, not like you're trying to breathe it in, but sip on a drink with a straw, okay? Baby puff.” You say, pulling the joint back to your lips and showing her. 

Your lips wrap around the filter softly as you take a quarter breath in. You then dramatically hold it out and show that you take the rest of the breath through your mouth. You hold the smoke in for a moment and then let it out for her to understand. “You get it now?” you cough. 

“I-I think.” she says as she takes the joint from you, holding it between shaky fingers. She takes a puff and then starts coughing furiously. Natalie took the joint from Misty’s shaking hand before it fell to the ground, she takes a puff inbetween her laughs. 

Misty holds her fist to her lips as she tries to get all the smoke out of her lungs. Everyone laughs happily and claps for her when she does it, enjoying seeing Misty try something for the first time. You put your hand on her back to pat it gently. She seems to relax at your touch momentarily before finally getting her coughing under control.

“You finally tried marijuana for the first time!” You exclaim and rub a circle on Misty’s back, her cheeks crimson. 

“It was amazing,” Misty breathlessly says as she looks at everyone else. Everyone is very high now, and their eyes are bloodshot and dry. You smack your lips, longing for a drink. 

“Misty, have you ever drank?” Lottie asks as she sits with her knees to her chest. She tilts her head to the sides and watches Misty’s facial expressions. You didn’t understand the feeling you felt from her eyes. It felt almost like she was studying and calculating Misty. You have never seen that look on someone. 

Misty studders and says, “Y-Yeah, I have. I stole some sherry from my mother’s cabinet.” 

Van laughs a little “whoa” out as a joke about how mild Misty’s confession was, the smoke of the joint coming out of her mouth like the hot breath of a hunger wolf, and she says, “I’ve done crazier.” 

Taissa looks at Van with a playful glare and says, “Like what?” 

“I stole a whole bottle fo whiskey from my mom. And she didn’t even find out. She didn’t even realize she didn’t drink it, so she just got more for herself.” Van confesses with a smug smirk on her face, and Natalie chuckles and nods her head like she’s done that before to her mom. You felt a little wrong about what Van said because it made you feel like her mom had a nasty drinking problem. 

“I did that before with my mom’s cigarettes.” Natalie says, “They never notice if you just take a few here and there.” 

Jackie smirked and said, “I know every one of my mom's pills in the bathroom cabinet. I took a few for the trip. She’s never caught me before.” 

“My dad is very strict with those things. I don’t think I can do anything without my parents knowing,” Lottie said, looking to the ground with a severe expression. You couldn’t put your finger on it, it her confession felt like it had a little more then she was letting on. Lately she has been off and talking more vague about things, and confessing more things about her life. Lottie’s parents were strict but the more you hear about them it sounds like they hover over Lottie’s every move.  

“My mom just grows the shit, and I just take it.” You blurt out with your words softly slurring because you are high, and you realize you talked about your mom again. Was she okay? 

Everyone laughs at how you talk and starts to laugh at their words sounding like yours—slurred and funny to hear. 

You felt a sudden wave come over you as you laughed with your friends. It felt good—maybe too good—so good that it made you think about your mother. Was she okay? Did she get her pills on time? Did she bathe? Did she go to chemo?

In your laughter, your laughs turn to sobs in a second. You cover your mouth as heavy sobs leave your throat. You couldn’t help yourself. You couldn’t stop yourself. 

Everyone slowly realized that your sounds weren’t in glee anymore; they were out of sorrow and a moment of weakness. 

When you look, you see brown eyes, concerns, and worry on all the faces. You let out one thing that you knew was going to hurt them. Your body didn’t stop itself from letting out deep-seated sorrow. 

“I’m sorry. I really miss my parents and momm- mom so much.” You whimpered as you wiped your tears. You had a full belly and a fire keeping you warm. But inside, you have never been so cold and helpless in these woods. 

Everyone’s faces soften and twist in their sadness. We all know what we are feeling, and they also start tearing up. Everyone missed their parents, and you felt like an asshole even saying anything. 

You sniffle and try to stop your tears. Being strong has worn you down, but you have a “strong shoulder.” Like your father always said, you can handle the hurt. 

You say to everyone, “I think we all need some love right now. Group hug. Please.” Standing up, throwing the dying joint into the fire, moving your plush arms around to urge them to you.  

One by one, they stood, hovered over you, and hugged you and each other—a moment of shared pain and joy. Being strong was hard, but as you felt them hold you, you felt a second wind. You have to get yourself and the others out of here. Out of these fucking woods. 

Note 2: Sorry to anyone who wanted to be on the taglist and I couldn’t add you! I hope you still find this fic!

[just-a-carrot]

Random updates on the manga...

After doing some research, I've decided I'll publish the first chapter on Webtoon when it's done. Tho it's not the best for manga-style, it seems to be the most popular, so I thought it would be easiest for people to read.

As a result, I've slighted tweaked the format to be juuuust a bit taller and with larger text so it reads well on mobile/in the app (I did a lot of tweaking and testing for my first pages dhfjdjdj)

Also as a result, I'm gonna have to tone down Genzou's mouth 🤣 Because with high profanity level it said it would automatically label it as mature and I don't want that since it would be only the language doing so (and apparently on Webtoon mature-rated comics get almost no visibility)

I have 17 pages done so far! And haven't even made it to the 4 pages I've already done so it's technically 21 lol (tho I'll need to tweak those a bit to match my new format)

I'll probably divide the first chapter into 3 episodes and publish them all at once since it seems to be recommended that you launch a comic with 3 episodes (which is probably ok anyway as it will likely be a bit long otherwise as one single episode)

I've been listening to nonstop rock Western music playlists on YouTube LOL

I'm going to get so good at drawing horses and horse-related paraphernalia after this (and dogs apparently)

I'm pleasantly surprised by how my BGs have been turning out; they feel soft yet immersive in a way that fits the vibe, and they also don't take me forever and a day to do

Iggy looks so cute in some panels I want to cry

Genzou looks so cute in some panels I almost ascend to another plane

No matter what becomes of this, this has been great for my art. I'm drawing so many new poses and angles and compositions and it's been both challenging and fun. It's a lot of stuff I think will help my future VN work, as well

I mentioned in an ask reply the other day already but I have roles in mind for both Orlam and Gidget already in future chapters if I do continue it, and there will also be a variety of smaller cameos for some other chars, too

Overall, I'm still having fun and can't stop drawing LOL I'm excited every day to work on it and finish more pages 💕

[oshinohoshi]

Kana's breakdown

I've been thinking more about Kana slapping Aqua's dead body (why am I even typing those words jfc) last chapter. Lots of folks are using this as a reason to call Kana immature, selfish, etc. which I don't agree with even though I do understand some of that thinking.

Was it disrespectful to his family? Absolutely. Imagine you're standing there mourning your dead son and his friend comes up and slaps him lol. And while it would not be OK to do this in any circumstance, in the eyes of everyone but Akane he was murdered. So while they are probably upset that he went looking for trouble by chasing after Hikaru, this is just a tragic murder in their eyes. Although to be clear, I don't condone slapping suicidal people whether dead or alive.

But grief can really screw you up. Your emotions are running high and you may not be fully in control of your actions. Everything is terrible and you just want that person to miraculously come back because you can't live with this.

Of course that doesn't trump Miyako's grief. Still, I can't imagine reading this and not having empathy for Kana. Also, even though at this point I hardly care what Akasaka's intensions are given how much I dislike this ending, it should be clear to everyone that this scene is not meant to show us that Kana is awful.

And then there's Miyako's reaction after the slap fest:

Is this the face of a woman who is angry? No. She looks shocked. She just realized how much Kana loves Aqua and how much she's hurting. If anything, this goes to show just how loved Aqua was.

If this manga wasn't in a full on sprint to the finish line with no room to breathe, I can easily imagine a scene where Miyako goes up to Kana, who is remorseful and blaming herself, and lets her know with words or actions (she really needs a hug) that she forgives her and she understands. There's just no way that Miyako would hold any kind of resentment over this.

But man this scene really is such a soap opera. It's just tragedy porn at this point. Still, it made me emotional despite feeling kinda contrived.

[jasontoddiefor]

every once in a while I think back to a fanfic I read in 2015. in retrospect, it wasn’t all that well written, but it was penned by teenagers in love with their story and the story loved me back.

They main character was trans and a central theme of the story was the length of his hair. I read the first chapter the day it was published, almost certainly searching through the trans character tag. It was October, another two months to the date I would cut my hair - the day before Christmas, I walked out of the hair salon as though I’d already received all the gifts I could possibly want.

I loved my short hair, the buzz at my neck, running my fingers through short strands and have the hair fall from them after lifting them just a few centimeters.

Three years later, I decided to grow my hair out again. For my family, mostly, I think now, as a test, to me and to them.

My aunt said it felt like spite, dangling my hair in front of them, threatening to cut it off again as though to punish them.

I did cut it off again.

I think I failed my own test. I know my family did.

For the first time in nine years my hair has grown past my shoulders, that imaginary line by which I measured someone’s love. My own, probably.

Fourteen years ago I cut my hair for the first time in my life. It used to reach down to my knees, and tangled at every opportunity. I remember being so exhausted, long before I realized what was actually weighing me down.

I miss that little girl sometimes. I hope she forgives me.

But this post is not about her, not yet. Maybe not ever. She’s asleep in her Playmobil castle and princess bed and I don’t know how to wake her yet.

This is about a story posted in 2015. The last time it was updated was 2017, it was never finished.

I don’t ever need it to be finished. All I need is for it to remain there, with its title, the reminder of don’t let your hair past your shoulders, and the comment I wrote in 2015. I hope this story knows I love it still, and that somewhere, sometime, another boy learns that it’s okay. That your hair can grow again. That you do not need to hate it.

The authors of that story have vanished, I can’t find any of them anywhere, but I hope that my last comment, left now nearly a decade later, has reached them. That they know how grateful I was for giving me something to hold on when I need it, for allowing me to be seen when I couldn’t stand looking in the mirror.

That even now, so may years later, looking back at their writing with - perhaps - embarrassment for leaving it unfinished like that, having written the kind of stories only high schoolers would, they will know it means the world to someone.