#edit: fixed the spelling mistake sorry about that

[dippermabelpines]

GRAVITY FALLS 1.04 - The Hand That Rocks the Mabel

[signs-of-the-moon]

Moon High: Chapter 21

Warriors came rushing to aid as they heard the cry of the ginger she-cat ring clear across the forest. Leafheart hunched over the mutilated body of her son, Flamepaw, and Moonpaw watched on helplessly. There was so much happening all at once that it was hard to concentrate.

Moonpaw blinked, seeing Thornberry and some of the other mentors gather to console the grieving she-cat. Then, in the next moment, when Moonpaw blinked again, Smokepaw was beside her. He appeared to be speaking, judging by the movement of his mouth, but no words could be heard. The only thing Moonpaw could hear was the rapid thumping of her heart and a ringing in her ears. She tried to force herself to pay attention. But it was difficult. She didn't feel like she was present at the moment. Her body didn't feel like her own.

Moonpaw stared with wide unfocused eyes at the smokey gray tom. He continued to try and communicate. Then Smokepaw's brows furrowed as he realized Moonpaw couldn't understand him. He turned, and Moonpaw blinked again.

The next thing she knew, she was being led through the woods. Beepaw walked on one side of her, just behind Smokepaw. She was saying something, but again, nothing seemed legible to Moonpaw.

Time flew away from her like a bird on a strong gale, because the next thing she knew, the group was entering Treeclan's camp. Mothsong and Berrypaw ran over to them, checking every cat over. They seemed so distant to Moonpaw, like they were walking just at the edge of her vision. Smokepaw gestured towards his littermate, and for the first time in a while, Moonpaw could partially make out what was being said.

"She's... ...shock," Mothsong noted, her words cutting in and out of Moonpaw's consciousness. Moonpaw could barely feel the brush of the medicine cat's tail against her shoulder as she was prompted to follow towards the healer's den. An orange blob lay near her feet as she passed. Yet her mind wouldn't allow her to focus well enough to see exactly what the shape was.

Moonpaw then found herself settling into a nest as the calico she-cat brought over some herbs. I'm not sick, Moonpaw protested internally, confusion clouding her mind. She wasn't the one who should be tended to right now. But Mothsong didn't seem to think so, judging by the look of concern on her face.

"...eat...." Moonpaw barely heard her say. And though she felt like taking the medicine was pointless, Moonpaw followed directions anyways. She swallowed bitter plants first--thyme and goatweed, Moonpaw remembered their names being. Next, a tiny seed rolled onto her tongue and slithered down her throat, just as a soothing scent entered into her nostrils. Chamomile? Moonpaw guessed as her head grew heavy. She saw Mothsong in front of her. The beautiful medicine cat signed the word "sleep" in the Silent Language. Then, as if on command, Moonpaw found herself being pulled into a deep, restless slumber.

An uncountable amount of time passed before Moonpaw stirred awake. Her head felt heavy and body felt numb as all of her consciousness returned to her at last. She could finally think and see clearly. The medicine Mothsong had given her worked wonders on her foggy mind. But now Moonpaw felt stiff as a log. Stretching, the silver and white she-cat moved to stand from her nest. But before she could, a rustling sounded from the entrance of the medicine den. Moonpaw curled back up into her sleeping spot, not wanting to be reprimanded for leaving it before she was given permission. Two cat-scents made their way to her nose, before she could see who was coming.

"I'm glad I could catch you," Moonpaw recognized the smell and mew of Mothsong.

The second scent belonged to Wolfheart. "I was already on my way here. I wanted to check on Moonpaw."

"You must be Starclan sent, then."

"What do you mean?"

The medicine cat ushered the gray and white tom deep into the den, past Moonpaw and closer to the medicine stores. She didn't speak a word, but motioned for the tom to make himself comfortable.

Wolfheart wrapped his tail around himself as he sat, his back facing Moonpaw.

"Has something happened?" Wolfheart spoke aloud the question his daughter had in mind. His voice was pleading, begging to know what knowledge Mothsong withheld. Moonpaw peered through half-squinted eyes, trying to gauge what was going on without being caught.

Mothsong sat next to the wall of her den, too distant to notice her patient had woken up. Her focus was rested on Wolfheart. A turbulent expression took over her features as she paused a moment or two to find the right things to say.

"Starclan sent me a dream early this morning. A prophecy they wish to be shared."

"A...prophecy?" Wolfheart sounded to be in disbelief. Moonpaw shared his sentiment. Prophecies were rare. It was even rarer for them to be shared with an ordinary cat. But if Mothsong was so insistent with telling Wolfheart about it, then he must be involved somehow.

Excitement began to bloom in Moonpaw's chest. Was Wolfheart a prophecy cat? That would mean he would be a hero, just like in the stories of the ancients Badgerface spoke of!

Mothsong lifted her chin, her eyes growing dim. When she parted her jaws to recite Starclan's words, she spoke in a voice that did not sound like her own. "A great threat lurks, brought forth by darkness and forged by wolf's strength. Only when the moon can face its fate will the night rise. Do whatever possible to keep its light alive."

The air grew thick with tension as silence settled in. A few heavy moments passed. Mothsong appeared to return to normal. Still, there was unease between both the adult cats.

Wolfheart swayed his tail thoughfully. "...What does it mean?"

Mothsong shook her head. "I do not know. But this is the message Starclan has asked me to share."

"And they wanted you to share it with me...? Why? Do you think...it has something to do with my daughter?" Her father's fur was bristling, as if he were afraid. The faint scent of fear creeped its way to Moonpaw's nose, confirming her suspicion. Was he scared that Starclan had wanted to share a message with him? Or was he more fretful of what the prophecy meant? Moonpaw, too, found herself wondering what their words foretold. It wasn't the prediction of grandeur and heroism she had hoped for her father. Instead it sounded to be a more illfated warning.

"It's a possibility. But there's a chance the message could be more metaphorical as well. All I know for certain, is that things will reveal themselves in their due time."

"That's true." Wolfheart sighed. "I just...hope this doesn't mean Moonpaw's in danger." Moonpaw saw Wolfheart's head shift. He must have been glancing at her over his shoulder. But she couldn't exactly see his eyes from the direction his body faced. There was a sag of guilt in the gray and white tom's posture, as if whatever was prophesied was his fault. Love and sympathy squeezed Moonpaw's heart. She wanted so badly to sit up and comfort her father, but she would be caught easedropping if she were to do so.

Mothsong rested her tail upon Wolfheart's shoulder reassuringly. "Whatever happens is in the paws of Starclan. But they have never steered us wrong before. So please, have faith in them, and whatever their plans may be."

I will keep faith in them, Moonpaw swore, peering over at her dad as she hoped he'd do the same.

The gray and white tom fell silent for a moment. "...I trust your wisdom, Mothsong. But please, if you learn anything new, let me know first."

"Of course." Mothsong blinked slowly.

As if summoned by the thought of him, Wolfheart turned around to face his kit. Moonpaw quickly shut her eyes, hoping her father didn't see her awake. Heartbeats later she felt his fur pressing to hers, and the rumble of a purr in his chest.

"Are you waking up already, chipmunk?" He checked. Moonpaw resisted the urge to flinch. Instead, she slowly fluttered open her eyes, looking up at the loving face of her kin.

"Papa...?" She feigned fatigue in her voice as she spoke. Wolfheart smiled down at her, running his tongue over her ears and cheeks.

"How are you feeling?" He asked.

Tired, miserable, confused, were some of the words that came to mind. Instead of speaking Moonpaw shrugged, resting her head against her paws.

"I understand," Wolfheart hummed, nuzzling her. "You should rest more. Hopefully you'll feel like yourself after."

That sounds like a good idea, Moonpaw agreed and gave a yawn. Wolfheart rose from her side and walked out of the medicine den. Mothsong followed him out not long afterwards with flowers in her jaws.

Moonpaw rested for a while more, ruminating in thoughts of the present and the future. Most of all she thought about the prophecy and what it could mean. Eventually, her body grew tired of laying in its resting position. Her paws itched to move and go into the camp where the rest of the clan would be gathered. With a swish of her tail, Moonpaw stood and padded out of the medicine den.

In the center of camp, Flamepaw's body laid. Berrypaw had just finished rubbing herbs into his pelt. But he wasn't able to cover up the death scent in time. Due to the long journey home, and the state of Flamepaw's body, birds of prey managed to catch on to the passing of the young apprentice. When Moonpaw looked up she could see a hawk soaring by the dusk kissed clearing every now and then. But the threatening hoot of an owl kept the other predator away. Tonight's vigil would be extra guarded, Moonpaw bet. A shiver ran down her spine as she made her approach towards her deceased clanmate. Several cats were ahead of her, each taking a few moments to sit close to Flamepaw and share tongues with him one last time. Then they'd move aside, allowing other cats to come forward and do the same. Most cats remained in the open to sit vigil for the remainder of the night. While those too young, old, or not close enough to Flamepaw took their leave and headed to their dens to sleep.

As Moonpaw took her turn to sit vigil, she noticed Den Keepers scaling the trees in camp. With precision and care, they wrapped greenbrier vines around branches, high above where any cat would normally climb. They used moss and broad leaves to grip the thorny appendages tying them tightly before descending to the ground. The vines were a cautionary measure, to deter feathered fiends from landing within striking range of the camp. Good, Moonpaw sighed with a bit of relief, tucking her legs beneath her as she bowed her head near Flamepaw's and prayed.

After her prayer, Moonpaw lifted her muzzle and began to groom his cheek. His fur smelled strongly of lavender and death, but beneath--if one pressed their nose close--Flamepaw's natural scent could be caught. Moonpaw did her best to commit it to memory. Then she rose to her paws, and after one last press of their foreheads together, the silver molly moved away. As she did, Leafheart looked to her apprentice and nodded at her thankfully. Moonpaw returned the warrior's gesture with a respectful head dip. Then she moved to flank her mother and father, who watched on from the edge of camp. Moonpaw saw yerning crackling in Wolfheart's pale green eyes as she settled with him. His focus was fixed on Blazestar who sat solemnly beside his mate.

Brightsky nudged Wolfheart encouragly with her muzzle, prompting the gray and white warrior to go sit beside his old friend. Wolfheart seemed cautious as he moved to take the chance and padded over to Blazestar. He dipped his head deeply to the clan's leader before taking a seat beside him. Wolfheart looked between his clanmates as if waiting to be judged. But no one spoke out. Instead, Blazestar rested his tail on the younger tom's shoulders and blinked at him with gratitude. He seemed to be reassuring Wolfheart of something. Whatever that may be breathed a small puff of confidence into the gray and white tom. Moonpaw was happy that her father could be there to support Blazestar.

Beside her, Brightsky sniffled a little, her cheek fur dampened with tears. At the other side of her, Magpiepaw laid. Her muzzle was buried in their mother's fur for comfort. Moonpaw wanted to say some soothing words to them both, but for once she had nothing to mew about. Grief tightened in her chest. All Moonpaw wanted to do right now was enjoy the comfort of her living loved ones. Speaking of loved ones, Moonpaw's thoughts suddenly landed on Hazepaw. Would he be waiting for her tonight? Something had held him up from joining the Gathering yesterday. Surely he'd be wanting to see Moonpaw tonight instead. Should I really sneak away to go see Hazepaw, though? Moonpaw wondered as her gaze flitted between her clanmates. Seeing their miserable faces made Moonpaw feel even worse. No one would be of great comfort here. So, Moonpaw set her mind on going off into the woods alone. Backing away, Moonpaw turned tail and headed for the Entrance Tree. Smokepaw called out to her as she climbed, asking where she was going.

"I need some space..." Moonpaw confessed before taking off into the trees. Wind flowed through her long fur as she ran across the forest towards the familiar rocks of Rubble Path. The trees thinned the closer she drew to the territory's edge, until finally only grass and sand remained. Moonpaw parted her jaws to taste the air. She needed to know Hazepaw was waiting for her. But any scent of hin was stale. Maybe he's disguising it, Moonpaw hoped.

"Hazepaw?" She called out, stalking to the top of Rubble Path. She peered down, looking between the jagged stones for a familiar white pelt. Then her eyes began to comb the sand and brush nearby. "Hazepaaaaw!" She called again, her voice echoing with the rise in volume. But no reply ever came. Nor did anyone emerge from the dark surrounding her. Great disappointment weighed heavily upon Moonpaw, even worse than what she'd felt the night before.

"Hazepaw..." tears began to well in the silver and white molly's eyes. She sniffed, then hung her head. I need you... the words remained inside her mind as she sobbed softly to herself. Moonpaw let herself cry alone for a while, until the worse of her grief was finally released. Then after calming down, she turned, retreating back home to curl up in the paws of her family.

As the first rays of sunlight began to crawl across the forest, Treeclan gathered together as one within the clearing of camp. They huddled in a large circle around the deceased apprentice they mourned. Some cats parted to allow Badgerface, Daisypetal, and Elmfoot through. Mothsong and Berrypaw had just finished wrapping Flamepaw's torso with vines--to keep him in one piece during the move. The medicine cats dipped their heads in respect to the elders as they got out of their way. Guards came to surround the old warriors as they took their place around Flamepaw.

Then, Daisypetal lifted her muzzle and began to release a keening cry into the morning air. Blazestar joined her, with Leafheart and their kits joining two heartbeats after. Moonpaw heart ached as she listened to their cries. Then she brought up her nose and joined the rest of her clanmates in a mourning song. Flamepaw's spirit was being commended to Starclan; his soul likely accepted by this time after facing judgment in the Twilight Passage. Flamepaw was a good cat. Silverpelt will welcome him with open paws, Moonpaw assured herself as the clan finally finished singing. Then, the elders lifted Flamepaw's body. Flanked by the Guards, the old warriors marched the deceased tom towards the thorn barrier and out of Treeclan's camp one last time. The clan watched after them for a few extra moments before finally breaking apart. Some cats went about their duties for the day. Others headed to their dens for a nap. Moonpaw contemplated doing the same, the weight of all that happened still heavy upon her. But Moonpaw knew she'd have no luck sleeping. So, instead, she took herself to the nursery.

Brightsky trilled in surprise as she noticed her daughter following her tail. "Moonpaw? Do you need something?"

"I want to have a talk with the queens," Moonpaw explained earning a nod of understanding from her mother. Brightsky ushered the silver and white molly into the nursery with a whisk of her tail. Moonpaw ducked beneath the large tree roots as she padded down the slope into the den. Since light had barely managed to greet the world, there was no need to adjust to the darkness within.

Mapleshine and Silverhawk sat up in their nests, their attention focused on Moonpaw. Surely they knew she was here for a session with them. And the pair seemed ready to listen to all that needed to be said. Moonpaw sat in a spot between all the queen's nests. But she sat closest of all to her mom.

"Speak, child," Silverhawk prompted with a nod. Her gesture was welcoming and wise. "Get whatever you need off your chest."

Moonpaw took a deep breath, then spilled her guts about everything. About watching Flamepaw's hunt, and how he pushed himself to chase the squirrel to the Thunder Path. She described how she felt witnessing his death, and confessed just how close she'd been to being struck as well. And she spoke about her experience with shock. The only things Moonpaw omitted were the prophecy she'd overhead in Mothsong's den, and any talk of Hazepaw. Though Moonpaw desperately wanted to speak of how Hazepaw had failed her last night. But that would take admitting to sneaking off to see him. Moonpaw wasn't willing to divulge that secret.

After listening to the last of her vent, the queens finally took their turn to speak.

"Oh, love," Brightsky crooned, nuzzling her daughter's cheek. She moved forward, wrapping herself around her kit."You know what happened to Flamepaw wasn't your fault."

"I know...." Moonpaw sighed, leaning into her mother. "But I was there! I feel like I could have saved him...."

"From what it sounds like, you were barely off from becoming crowfood yourself," Silverhawk chimed in, rather crassly. She lifted a back paw to lick between her toes. "Another heartbeat more and you'd be right alongside him in the burial grounds. There was no saving Flamepaw."

"But maybe if he'd heard me calling out for him, he would have stopped?" Moonpaw rationalized.

"There's no use dwelling on the 'what if's,' and 'maybe's,' hon," the Den Mother countered softly. "What's done is done. No cat blames you for not being able to do more."

Mapleshine twitched her whiskers agreeingly. "Besides, you did do something. You went to get help! No cat would have found Flamepaw for quite some time if you hadn't been there to alert the clan of his accident."

But there was another cat around, Moonpaw remembered suddenly. Darkfire had been nearby the Thunder Path. Yet she'd done nothing to stop or save the young apprentice. But why? Moonpaw wondered. Had Darkfire not seen Flamepaw get hit? Moonpaw was unsure. But she didn't want to incriminate Darkfire by mentioning her presence. Even if sessions were meant to be kept confidential. It doesn't matter anyways, Moonpaw told herself. Maybe I'm just looking for someone else to blame.

"Thank you all for listening," Moonpaw mewed with a head dip. "I'm feeling a bit better now. I think...I think I'll go find something to do to keep my mind off of things."

"That sounds like a good idea," Mapleshine agreed. "When you leave, would you mind sending my kits into nursery? It's time they got some rest."

"Sure," Moonpaw agreed with a stretch as she got up. Once more she dipped her head in respect to the queens before making her way out of their den.

By the elder's tree, Moonpaw spotted Mapleshine's kits playing. They were with Sunpaw, who batted at Honeykit and Sleekkit, while Peonykit tried to nab his tail. He laughed, looking so care free. It was as if he hadn't just lost one of his brothers. Maybe Sunpaw was distracting himself with the joy of the kits. Maybe it was his way of coping. Moonpaw hated to ruin his fun. But Mapleshine had requested her kits to come home to her. So, Moonpaw made her way over to the group slowly, only speaking when she became noticed.

"It's Moonpaw!" Honeykit squealed with joy. They rushed over to the apprentice, stretching up to touch noses with her. "Hi!!"

"Hello." Moonpaw purred in greetings. Her gaze moved from the golden kit in front of her to the others. "Its time for you all to go to the nursery. Your mother is waiting."

"But I don't wanna sleep yet!" Sleekkit griped. "Nightpaw said when we're apprentices, we have to be ready early in the morning for the dawn patrol!"

"That's when you're apprentices though," Sunpaw chimed. "You have a few more moons until then. For now, you have to do what your mom tells you. Besides, you've been awake all night. You've gotta be tired by now, right?"

"No!" Sleekkit squeaked, just as a yawn bubbled from his chest. The black and white kit's pelt fluffed with embarrassment. Moonpaw and Sunpaw both chuckled with small mrrows.

"C'mon, let's walk them home," Moonpaw suggested, sweeping her tail around the kits. Sunpaw followed them, matching pace with Moonpaw.

"How are you feeling?" He checked. "I saw you go into the medicine den yesterday."

"I'm alright now. I was in shock, after being so close to the monster and seeing Flamepaw..." she trailed off.

Sunpaw nodded, sadness glowing in his eyes. "I'm relieved that you're ok, at least."

Moonpaw made a small noise, pressing her body against his. Sunpaw purred in response, leaning into her embrace.

"Why don't we go out hunting once the kits are in their den?" She suggested suddenly. "I think we could both benefit from time away from the clan. And it would take our minds off of things for a while."

Sunpaw thought for a few moments as they walked. "That sounds nice. I'd like to spend some time with you," he admitted. The ginger tom seemed to cheer up a little at the prospect of going out together. Moonpaw had to admit she felt excited, too. After saying farewell to Mapleshine's kits, the pair of apprentices took off for the Entrance Tree and out into the forest, where they spent the rest of the morning forgetting their sadness together.

[jamietwat]

[eph3merall]

. . . ( part 2 )

—

"nah, what the fuck is this— big bad wolf bullshit?" you can hear matt's voice falter for a second, your bare knees digging into the wood floor of his room. he decided to stream for a few hours tonight, both chris and nick away doing their own things.

for the first hour and a half matt just played some games until you got bored and snuck under his desk, his hand cupping your cheek to give it a light warning smack to whatever cheeky ideas that were brewing in your head.

deft hands slowly started tugging his sweatpants down, to which he just hummed and swiveled around gently in his chair for a second. settling back down, matt was leaning forwards a little to put some music on for the stream, shouting out names he was able to catch that were gifting.

he's fixing his headset and turning the music up a little, it's mainly just to hide any groans and sighs he lets out however. for a second, he steals a glance down at you to find you slowly lowering the hem of his boxers, and he responds by subtly lifting his hips.

matt didn't totally like this idea. one little mistake and the whole stream of.. fifteen thousand people would know what was going on, but he couldn't deny how painfully hard he was just by seeing you on your knees—a little cramped under the small space of his desk.

when you free his length to find pre already dribbling from his slit, your thumb reaches up to thumb at his tip and spread the bead of pre made lube down his shaft. you don't miss the way his thighs tense, hips twitching up a little as you listen to the way he scolds the chat for telling him to react to edits and read fanfiction.

one hand rests on his thigh while the other jerks up and down slowly, twisting your wrist up at the top as you lean forward. parting your lips, you let some saliva drip down the length of his dick and don't miss the heavy sigh he lets out.

soon you're hollowing your cheeks out and bobbing your head gently up and down matt's cock—one hand threading through your hair and digging blunt nails into the back of your head. you can't see his face—but you can hear the way his voice trembles once in awhile and how heavy he's breathing.

your nose presses into his skin, dick shoved all the way down your throat and you gag—only forcing matt to ball one of his hands up into a fist to pretened to cough because he was about this close to letting out a groan.

the noisy slurping and gagging noises of your mouth have him panicking for a second before he's quickly turning the volume of the music up, per chat's request and totally not because it put him just a little more at ease.

he keeps a hand casual over his mouth or on his face, pretending to cough or whatever. his other hand is leaving your head—fingers twitching to pull you off just so he can fuck your throat to his heart's content.

so far so good, right? the stream went pretty smoothly until you'd done something with your tongue and he felt his tip hit the back of your throat, and matt's head is tilting back against his gaming chair and a tortured groan is ripped from his lips.

oops?

notes. sorry if this has spelling mistakes / mistakes in general or anything doesn't make sense i am TIREDD... feel kinda insane w how good matt n chris looked on stream tho. anyways where the fuck did 75 followers come from? like? what??? thank u all i love u guys <3 know its not a lot but argghhb + i reached 100+ notes on a post like ugh <33

—

©eph3merall 2024

[n0thingbutlov3]

need you now

in which an impulsive voicemail leads to some secrets being spilled.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader. warnings/tags: angst (sorry i’m incapable of being nice lol) hurt/comfort tho!! lil bit of fluff too because i AM capable of being nice, alcohol consumption as a coping mechanism (i’m literally just a girl…) spencer and reader are broken up :( but they’re still sooo in love and it’s soo obvious so it’s fine!! (also it kind of gets fixed at the end-ish. you’ll see *evil smirk*) reader cries a lot (real) spencer is a cutie (as always) spencer and reader sleep together…no like literally, not in a funny business way, some swearing, no use of y/n!!! wc: 3k a/n: hihihi!! so this is my first fan fiction i’ve wrote and completed ever (gulp) it’s also my first time publishing one (gulp) my writing could definitely be better and so could my grammar tbh but i HOPE if you choose to read you’ll enjoy…feedback is always appreciated (plsplspls) also like requests?? if anyone’s into that—id love to write more but inspo is difficult sometimes. if there’s any spelling mistakes im sorry, eye am very tired!! it’s 5am *eye twitching* okay i’m going to sleep, gootbye IF U SAW ME EDITING THIS 5 TIMES NO U DIDNT (i’m bad at tumblr ok..)

“Hi. This is Doctor Spencer Reid. I’m not available right now, but leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can…”

His tinny voice cut off to make way for the signature beep of the beginning of a voicemail recording.

You could hang up now—you should hang up now, save yourself some dignity and go drown your sorrows in alcohol like a normal person instead of calling your ex-boyfriend.

You should, but your mouth was opening before your finger could reach the hang-up button, and…and it was a losing battle from the moment you clicked on Spencer’s icon.

“Uh—hi, it’s…it’s me.” You huffed out a sad laugh.

“So, um, I…I tried calling, but you didn’t answer so…” The static buzz of silence hummed through your ear, just inches from where you held your phone with a shaky grip. “maybe you’re on a case or out with friends, or someone else—“ You let the implication hang in the air—the thought of Spencer potentially being in a relationship bringing a lump to your throat.

You swallowed it down.

“I just…I just had an unbelievably shitty day, Spence.” You sniffed, wiping the moisture that had escaped from your eye with your sweater sleeve. “I know you’ve never read A Series of Unfortunate Events but I think I’d give those kids a run for their money.” You tried to laugh but it came out as more of a sob.

You inhaled shakily, trying to collect yourself and remember why on earth you thought it would be a good idea to call Spencer when you’d been broken up for months. Hell, you hadn’t heard from him at all since you had parted ways—except from the odd text about returning each others’ things. It was obvious he had moved on, and here you were, filling up his voicemail with blubbering messages and making references to adolescent books.

“God, sorry about this.” You breathed out a watery chuckle. “I just…didn’t want to be alone, I guess. But that’s-um-not your problem anymore, so I’m—I’m sorry. Have a nice night.” Your voice cracked and you hung up before you could start weeping down the line. You didn’t need to look even more pathetic.

You pulled your phone away from your ear, looking down at his contact photo through blurred vision. He was smiling—not the tight, closed lip smile he gave other people, but a full, bright smile that had his dimples showing. One of your hands was wrapped loosely around his neck and the other was holding your phone just far enough away to capture both of your smiles. Your head was rested on top of his shoulder, tilted just slightly to the left so your temple was brushing against his.

It felt like looking at a vintage photograph—you knew those people and their happiness existed at some point in time, but it wasn’t tangible; you couldn’t verify it was real.

When you were with Spencer, you never doubted how real it was. All you had to was look at him across the room and he’d flash you a smile identical to the one in that photo and you’d just…know.

It felt like forever ago now that you’d been on the receiving end of that grin and it killed you. So much so that before you could consider the repercussions, you were trudging through to your kitchen and grabbing the bottle of whiskey that sat unopened in your cabinet. It had been a present—from Rossi, actually. When Spencer had first introduced you to the team, the older man had given it to you as something of a welcome gift. Of course, he couldn’t have known you weren’t much of a drinker, and since you wanted to make a good impression (and because you were sure it had cost more than all the alcohol you had consumed in your life combined) you accepted it—deciding to save it for a rainy day.

You think this qualified.

You grabbed the bottle, a glass, and padded back through to your living room, slumping onto your couch. You filled your glass up a little less than halfway before gulping it down, enjoying the burn in your throat—it was better than the constant thickness.

You poured yourself another glass before turning on the TV. You weren’t sure what was playing—it didn’t really matter anyway, your vision was already being obscured by tears again.

You thought the pounding was in your head at first—serves you right for drinking half a bottle of whiskey. Only, it wasn’t, because moments later the pounding subsided and instead, your apartment door was opening, casting your pitch-black living room in a yellow glow which temporarily blinded you.

You squeezed your eyes shut, your mind hazy—again, serves you right for drinking half a bottle of whiskey. Someone was calling your name, but there was too much sensory input for you to make out who.

You certainly hoped it wasn’t a paramedic—maybe your neighbour had heard you sobbing for the last four hours and decided you needed a wellness check. Then there were hands on your face, and that had you flicking your eyes open, because you recognised those hands—impossibly soft, with a callus on his trigger finger being the only thing to mar them. Spencer.

“Spencer?” You slurred.

He sighed in exasperation (or relief) and tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

“Are you alright? You weren’t answering your phone, I thought…” He trailed off, worry evident in his voice.

You sat up then, trying to compose yourself even though the room was spinning. Fucking whiskey. You rubbed your eyes haphazardly, blinking until you could finally see.

You should’ve stayed bleary-eyed. Because nothing could prepare you for the way your breath hitched when you finally saw him. After months of not seeing each other, Spencer was here, sitting on your couch, and he was looking at you like you were something fragile, and—God, you needed another drink. You turned away from him, reaching for the neck of the bottle as you spoke.

“I’m fine.”

Before you could lift it up, Spencer gently pried your hand away from the bottle with his own, and then slid it across the coffee table with his other.

“You’re drunk. No more of that, please.” His tone wasn’t unkind, but he left no room to argue. You probably would’ve objected anyway, if it weren’t for the way he kept his hand clasped around yours, rubbing soothing circles into your pulse point almost absentmindedly.

You glanced up to him—to stop yourself from staring at your hand in his and how natural it felt, more than anything—but that proved to be a mistake too, because he looked just as beautiful as thirty seconds prior and it felt just as natural for him to be sitting next to you on your sofa, but it wasn’t natural anymore.

“How did you get in?”

“My key.”

“Oh.”

Right. The key that he still had because you refused to meet up with him to let him return it. He tried for weeks to contact you, but you ignored him, because getting the key back meant things were finally over. You supposed he could return it now—maybe that’s why he came in the first place.

“Why did you come?” You asked, your voice impossibly small.

“You called.” He replied—as though he was talking about something as simple as the weather. You call and I come.

You searched in his eyes for any sign of a lie, but of course, there was none. He was being completely genuine—as always. You were the awful ex-girlfriend who left concerning voicemails on his phone and had him travelling to your apartment in the middle of the night only for him to look completely okay with the situation—like there was nothing he’d rather be doing than making sure you were safe.

You couldn’t help the way tears sprung to your eyes or your lip began to tremble as you lolled your head back onto the couch, pulling your gaze away from his.

“Angel, what’s wrong?”

You liked to consider yourself to be a strong person. You had been through things in your life that were objectively worse than your breakup with Spencer, but something about the gentleness of his tone and the way he had let one of his many (past) petnames for you slip had your throat tightening and you ducked your head into your one hand—the other still seized by Spencer’s—to try and muffle a sob.

“Hey,” He trailed his hand that was wrapped around yours up your arm, all the way to your shoulder blade before lightly guiding you towards him. You don’t have enough energy in you to fight his magnetic pull, so you shuffle over until you can bury your head into his shirt. You inhale his scent; vanilla, neroli, and so him it makes you ache.

Stopping your tears is futile—you’d know, they’d barely ceased all night—so you just let them fall, seeping into Spencer’s tie as he rubs one hand softly up and down your back, the other cradling the crown of your head.

His breathing is quiet and slow—the exact opposite of yours—and you try to imitate it—forcing air into your lungs. When your sobbing has turned to shaky breathing and the occasional sniffle, he speaks up.

“Do you want to talk?”

Talk about what? About what had happened today—what had led you to calling him? Talk about how for the last few months, he had been the only person you had wanted to call?

“No.” You hated how pitiful you sounded.

“Okay.”

Spencer didn’t say anything else for a minute—your synchronised breathing being the only thing to stop the room from falling into dead silence.

“You need to rehydrate.” He murmured, smoothing down your hair.

You hummed into him, in no hurry to unwrap yourself from his body. You probably wouldn’t get to be this close to him again, after all.

He moved both of his hands to your biceps, pulling you back slightly so you could look at him. He knitted his brows together in a silent plea which had you rolling your eyes petulantly, your lashes still damp from tears.

“Fine.” You peeled yourself off of him, pushing yourself into a standing position. Horrible mistake. You were still incredibly drunk, turns out, and everything was spinning a little bit and come to think of it, you were also nauseous and—

“Careful, lovely.” Spencer placed his hand firmly on the small of your back, keeping you upright.

and—actually, you were fine now.

He stood too, moving his hand just slightly over to your waist so he could guide you to the kitchen. When he knew you could stand upright—even if you were relying mostly on the counter behind you—he grabbed a glass from your cabinet, moving around effortlessly to pour you some water. The sight was so domestic you almost wanted to cry again. Maybe in some alternate timeline, where you and him could’ve worked, this would be an every day thing—minus the drunk sobbing part, of course.

He handed you the glass of water, watching as you took a few sips. He raised an eyebrow, nodding his head slowly.

“Whole thing, please.”

You let out an exasperated (affectionate) sigh and gulped the rest of it down, setting it on the counter behind you.

“Happy?”

“Very.”

You smirked, trailing your gaze down his body. He was still in his work clothes which, at the very least, meant he wasn’t on a date before he came here. He always changed before dates—well, for you, anyway. You wondered if he had been on any dates since the breakup—you certainly hadn’t. It had been long enough now that it wouldn’t be weird for you to start seeing other people—but you didn’t want to. You weren’t sure you’d ever want to, to be completely honest.

The more you thought about it, the more the whole thing seemed stupid. You didn’t want anyone else, you wanted Spencer. You had tried to get over him but if tonight was any indication—it clearly wasn’t working. You can’t even remember why you broke up in the first place—it all seemed so insignificant now. No amount of pain you had ever experienced in your relationship had come close to that of living without him.

You met his eyes once more and it was like he could see the question brewing. He tried to stop you, calling your name in a quiet warning, but you ignored him.

“Why did we break up?”

He frowned, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth with his tongue in that maddening way he did.

“I—you know why—“

“No, but I don’t! I know things were difficult sometimes but that doesn’t mean it didn’t work. It worked—we worked.” Your eyes were stinging again.

Spencer pressed his index and middle finger into his eye, furrowing his brows.

“I know, I know we worked, angel—but you were sad all the time, remember? I was gone so often and it wasn’t good for you.” His true emotions were indecipherable but his tone was soft, and you wished you could be as calm about this as him. Did he just not care as much as you did?

“But It’s—It’s worse now—“ You choked out, tears falling freely now. “I was sad when you were gone, but you always came back—you don’t come back anymore.”

Spencer removed his hand from his face, flexing it at his side like he was uncertain what to do with himself before taking a stride towards you. He brought a hand to your face, wiping the tears from under your eyes delicately—like you were made of porcelain.

“Listen, sweetheart—alcohol affects your ability to regulate your emotions and I know right now it might feel worse but that doesn’t mean it always—“

“Spencer, stop! It’s not the fucking alcohol, I miss you! I miss you all of the time! Even—even when I’m having a good day—I still want you—and especially when I—when I have a bad day—“ You choked out through heaving breaths.

“Breathe.” He urges, cupping your cheek. And you’re so, so angry, and sad, and tired that you have no choice but to shut up and listen to him. When you’ve adequately calmed down, he moves his hand to your jaw, tilting your head up to look at him.

“I don’t think we should talk about this tonight but I—“ You open your mouth to protest.

“I promise we can talk about it tomorrow when you’re sober—if you still want to.”

Your lip trembles of its own volition and you frown.

“Of course I want to.”

“Okay,”

“Okay.”

He gives your eyes a final wipe before he’s—rather unexpectedly—pulling you into a hug. You all but melt into him, your head finding its home in his sternum and your arms wrapping around his middle. He tilts his head down, kissing the top of your head—and you’re certain you can’t let this go again. You will chain him down before Spencer leaves this apartment again.

Everything is wordless from there—mostly because you’re so, so exhausted that even talking seems like too difficult a task. Spencer helps you find something more comfortable to change into and you pull out an old t-shirt of his and a pair of plaid pyjama pants you had kept here for him. I guess your keeping them ‘just in case you needed them in the future’ had come in handy, after all.

As you washed your face, Spencer snuck through to the kitchen, refilling your water and grabbing two aspirin in a not-so-subtle attempt to help the inevitable hangover you were going to have in the morning.

You caught him placing them on your bedside table and mock gasped.

“Trying to drug me in my sleep so you can make a run for it in the night?”

He grinned lazily—exhaustion creeping up on him as well.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

You smiled, flopping yourself onto your bed rather ungraciously. Spencer looked at you like you were something fascinating before biting his lip, clearly deep in thought.

“What?” You let out a self-effacing little chuckle.

“I was just…wondering…if you’d like me to sleep on the couch?”

You probably should’ve been more careful in your facial expressions considering you were still broken up but your thoughts about that offer were obvious.

“No, stay.” Stay in your bed, in your apartment—stay anywhere that was close to you.

Maybe you were coming on a little too strong.

“Unless you want to, I mean—“

“No, no—I’ll stay.” Forever, preferably.

He walked around to the other side of your bed—as he had done so many times before—and sat down, pulling the covers over his legs. You mirrored his movements before flicking your bedside lamp out, turning to face him.

You were a little thankful you were so out of it, because this had the potential to be very awkward otherwise. Spencer shuffled down so that he was at eye level with you, turning to face you as well.

You just stared for a moment, committing him to memory. The moonlight had a way of highlighting all the high points of his face, and the twinkle in his eyes, and—God, you were so glad the moon existed and that Spencer was in your bed that you couldn’t help but giggle.

“What?” Spencer laughed along with you, even though he had no idea what was so funny.

“Nothing. You’re pretty.”

“You’re drunk. Go to sleep.”

“Don’t wanna.”

“Why?”

“Scared you’ll be gone when I wake up—like I made it all up.”

Spencer’s smile faded then, and he looked at you with something that seemed so much like the one thing you had been willing yourself to stop doing the whole time that you’d been broken up, that it almost took your breath away.

“I won’t. I promised, didn’t I?”

You nodded.

“So there’s nothing to worry about. Now get some sleep, lovely.”

You smiled, feeling Spencer’s hand inching towards yours. He intertwined them and gave yours a squeeze.

“Just in case you make a run for it in the night.”

You chuckled, your eyelids fluttering shut. Yeah, you could make it work.

part two!

[riomsworld]

Okay , so I have seen that many people are talking about this picture:

Many people say that it is showing that the paper in Lloyd's hand is the reason that the two of them do not like each other anymore. And that is a fine theory don't get me wrong! But I have my own:

It is a known fact 'Indogo Park' is inspired by Disney and their parks, and I think so is this picture.

The Disney World ride "Mr Toads Wild Ride " was replaced in 1998 by "The Many Adventures of Winnie Pooh". But as an Easter egg , Imaginers put in a little nod to the old ride that was replaced: a picture of Mr Toad giving Owl the deed of the ride

It is locatet at the entrance of Owls hous , and it can be easily missed.

Now let's look at both pictures,aren't they similar?

But there is also another clue that the picture of Rambley and Lloyd is a refrence to this!

When the train crashes, and we have to go backstage to fix it we find this :

A sign to a ride called "Lloyd's Limos." But the park does not seem to have a ride with such a name , or at least the current version we visit. The ride probably existed once in the park , but it got remodelled and replaced by the train ride with Rambly.

((The name of the Lloyd ride probably had even the same nature as the ride with Rambly, the only difference beeing that the visitor rode a limo insted of a train , but tgat is just my theory))

And if you think I am lying and that this picture does not exist: here

So TLDR: The picture is a refrence to Disneyland, and not only a lore clue

(I am sorry for the spelling mistakes,I typed this quickly while I was in a train )

Edit: I got corrected in the comments that I accidentally switch around Disney World and Disney land in my post. I thought this happened in Disneyland, but it did actually at Disney World. I am sorry that i mixed those two up. Thanks to @micromys for pointing that one out. :3

[valkyriexo]

Microphones and Mistakes

ᑉ³pairing; Dad! Husband! Bangchan x idol! Reader

ᑉ³genre; Angst

ᑉ³warnings; Implied unwanted pregnancy, Arguments, Cursing

ᑉ³Authors Note; This is my first Tumblr Fic! Thank you so much for reading <3 Edited! Please let me know if there are any warnings I am missing!

ઇଓ Part 2

"We will be ready to start again in 5," a staff member near the sound booth said. You sighed as you plopped yourself down on the side of the stage. Another staff member ran over to you with water and a new microphone.

"I'm sorry about all the issues, Y/N. We're working to fix them now, and I assure you it won't happen again," he said, handing you the water.

"Thank you," was the only answer you could provide. Anxiously, you sat on the side of the stage, getting your in-ear monitors fixed, already feeling frustrated and out of breath.

This was your debut performance of the highly anticipated Stray Kids X Y/N song. Countless late nights had been dedicated to crafting this masterpiece, with you and your husband Chan pouring your hearts and souls into every lyric and melody. The song had soared to the top of the charts in a matter of days due to its popularity, which brought immense pressure. Any misstep during this crucial performance could spell disaster for both of your upcoming comebacks, tarnishing the success you had worked so tirelessly to achieve. You had run through the performance once, but unexpected sound issues had arisen, causing you to be behind schedule.

Chan, usually by your side and supportive, was busy with his own schedule, making sure he and the kids were prepared for the performance as well.

You scanned the room, watching staff buzzing around and fixing what you could only imagine were other issues. Each staff member moved with purpose, adjusting lights, checking sound equipment, and ensuring every detail was in place for the upcoming performance.

Amidst the chaos, you closed your eyes and took a deep breath in an attempt to calm your nerves. You let the sounds wash over you, the cacophony blending into a soothing rhythm. With each deep breath, you felt the tension slowly ebbing away, replaced by a sense of quiet determination.

Then, you heard it.

The wailing of your almost 4-year-old son, Kai. He had decided that this particular moment was the perfect time to be anything but calm. He cried and wailed incessantly, much to the dismay of the nanny who had been entrusted with his care. Your eyes shot open to see Kai running towards you, with the nanny following just a few steps behind.

"Mommy!" Kai wailed as he ran into your arms.

"I'm so sorry, Y/N. He slipped out of my hands and has been crying all afternoon, and I turned for one second to grab him a toy, and he ran off," the nanny explained.

"It's okay," you replied, turning your attention to the crying boy in front of you. "I w-wanna be with M-Mommy!" Kai cried out.

"Kai, sweetheart, you know you can't be in here." You replied running your hands through his hair.

"But Mommy—"

"No buts. Baby, I'm sorry, but both Mommy and Daddy have to work. You have to stay with your Nanny," you said gently, hoping to lure him back to his nanny. But Kai's disappointment was evident as he cried even more.

"We're ready to start again, Y/N," a staff member said ignoring the scene taking place in front of him.

"But I don't like Nanny!" Kai protested, his voice rising in pitch as frustration bubbled within him.

Your patience wavered, the pressure of the impending performance weighing heavily on your shoulders. "Kai, I understand, but you have to be a big boy for me, alright? Mommy and Daddy need to work. We'll spend lots of time together later, I promise."

His bottom lip jutted out in a pout, his tear-streaked face a portrait of stubborn defiance. "I don't want later, I want now!"

Feeling frustrated and overwhelmed, and with Chan nowhere in sight, the only solution in your head was this. You scooped Kai up, adjusting his soundproofing headphones as you got in place to begin the song.

But Kai seemed determined to make his displeasure known. As the music played, and you began to sing, you felt his tiny hands grasp onto your microphone, tugging at it with all his might. In the midst of the commotion, he also managed to yank out one of your in-ear monitors, leaving you disoriented and struggling to hear the music properly.

What you didn't realize is that Kai also had his sippy cup in his hand. With all the commotion, it popped open and spilled—

All over you.

As the music shifted, symbolizing the entrance of Stray Kids, you shot Kai a look, hoping to get him to behave. Your eyes met Chan's, and he shot you and Kai a look of confusion. He noticed you were struggling, and he quickly sprang into action. Despite needing to sing and dance during the sound check, he took Kai into his arms, attempting to calm him down while still fulfilling his duties on stage.

Meanwhile, with your microphone dangling precariously from one hand and your in-ear monitors in the other, you tried your best to soldier on. But the frustration was evident on your face as you struggled to maintain your composure amidst the chaos. The song ended, and you heard your manager through the one remaining in-ear monitor.

"Y/N, what's going on? This is your second run with all the issues fixed, and this one was worse than the first. We don't have time to do this again."

Out of frustration, you pulled the in-ear monitor out of your ear. Without a word, you stormed off the stage, taking Kai out of Chan's arms, leaving him and the rest of the kids behind.

You brought Kai into a nearby room and crouched down in front of him, your anger simmering just beneath the surface.

The sight in front of you was painful. Your little boy stood there, looking so innocent with the cup and a piece of your in-ear monitor in hand.

You couldn’t believe it.

You fought to maintain your composure, but couldn’t. The soft sound of approaching footsteps only served to heighten your frustration, pushing you dangerously close to your breaking point. With each passing moment, the pressure mounted, a simmering rage threatening to boil over.

"What the hell, Kai?" You let out. "What is wrong with you today? You misbehave all morning, are mean and fussy with your nanny, and then look," you said, pointing at yourself, "you pulled off my microphone and in-ears and spilled your juice all over me." The little boy stared back at you with big brown eyes and a pout on his face.

"I've raised you better than this, Kai. What is wrong with you?!" You raised your voice a little, causing Kai to jump. He took little steps quickly to hide behind his father, who was now standing in the room. His little hands were shaking, and his lips were quivering.

Chan's eyes softened as he felt little hands grip his pants.

"Baby...What's going on?" he said to you, picking up his son with one hand, wiping the tears that began to stream down his face once again. "Don’t stress out, baby. It's okay,"

"No, Chan. It's not okay. He's constantly disobeying, and every time he does, you just wipe his tears and let it slide. That's why he keeps repeating these behaviors. You've coddled him so much that we can't even put him down for a few minutes!" You groaned frustrated as you stood.

"Y/n, it's fine. He's just a baby—" You shot a pointed look at him instantly, causing him to fall silent and redirect his attention to his son, who was clinging to his shirt.

"I'm s-sorry," Kai choked on his sobs.

Chan's heart melted at his little pout. "It's okay, baby, no need to cry. Daddy's got you," Chan wiped the tears from his cheeks and gently took the cup from his tiny little hands. "Y/N, look what you've done, now he's panicking."

"Seriously Chan?" you replied, clearly annoyed.

"He's just a kid! Kids cry, they make mistakes. He's still learning, Y/N. We need to guide him, not scold him," his voice grew louder with frustration.

"So how exactly do you plan to teach him? By comforting him, telling him it's alright, and then forgetting about it, knowing he'll repeat the same behavior in the future?"

"HE'S A CHILD, Y/N! He learns through trial and error. He doesn't fully comprehend right from wrong yet. Why do you always resort to yelling? And why am I always the one expected to properly care for him?"

"Properly care for him? I'm the only one who does since you're hardly ever home! I do everything for him. I—"

"Stop being a poor parent and actually teach him. For someone who didn't want a kid, you're oddly protective of him."

You stared blankly at him.

You, the one who was up day and night when Kai was sick, While Chan was working in the studio

You, the only one who took him to all of his appointments, dance classes, games, and events, while Chan was away on tour.

You, the only one who sat with him when he was struggling with homework, when Chan was too tired to stay awake.

You, the one who took care of Kai and never took a break, while Chan never did.

You.

The tension in the air was thick. The shocked gasp that left your mouth was painful. Your head started to spin, your eyes turning red as your body started to overheat. The emotions you felt were overwhelming. Your eyes landed on your son, who was covering his face in his father's chest, as Chan's eyes grew wider and wider, realizing the weight his words had on you.

"I'm- I'm sorry," the little boy squealed again.

"It's okay, baby," Chan comforted his shivering body.

"Well, maybe since I'm such a poor parent and a terrible teacher, I should let you handle it all on your own then," you said, brushing past him and your son and closing the door behind you on your way out.

You were stunned, your mind struggling to process everything. Your hands felt icy, and the weight of it all became too much to bear. You were exhausted from constantly putting up a front, tired of shouldering everyone else's burdens.

You longed for the freedom you once had, to reclaim your own life.

The urge to flee, to escape from it all, gnawed at your thoughts.

Yes, you cherished Chan and the life you shared, but you yearned to rediscover yourself. You craved to feel cherished, to be loved by your husband like you once were. You wished to relive the carefree days of youth, to experience love anew.

You made your way to the dressing room, seeking solace. Despite the turmoil within, you had a show to perform tonight. Sitting down, you took a deep breath, gazing at your reflection in the mirror. Tears welled up in your eyes, staining your cheeks.

No.

You refused to let the chaos of the moment ruin the performance ahead. With determination, you steadied yourself, forcing a smile.

The show must go on.

ઇଓ Part 2

ઇଓ M.LIST | Ko-Fi | Taglist | Thank you for your support ♡ | Consider leaving a comment, reblog or like ♡ | �� 2024 Valkyriexo 

[physalian]

Fuck Grammarly

Okay I need to rant about Grammarly. A program I never used before and never will now. Doubly pissed because their ads keep interrupting my peaceful 4-hour Minecraft music session with their fake-ass influencers.

Guys. Gals. Nonbinary pals.

“As a corporate girlie—” learn how to write a proper concise email.

“I used to spend hours proofreading—” enjoy the process, and then the product.

If you hate proofreading, to the point where you’ll consult a robot to do it all for you, then you hate writing. If all you care about is the end product, sorry to say but ��writing’ is like, 30% of writing. The other 70% is editing, by design. You’re supposed to like it.

Of course I’d love to have beautiful artwork of whatever’s in my head, but I’m going to love whatever I make a whole lot more than whatever I type into some garbage generator. Because I love the process of creation.

Do I think editing is tedious as hell? Absolutely, but it’s still a tedium that I enjoy. I like fixing my mistakes, I like improving my sentence flow. I like thinking about patterns and connections that I didn’t see before and revising and reworking until I’m satisfied.

For the humdrum day to day work emails that some of us have to write—if you’re sending out whole essays to your coworkers that you need a robot to write for you, you’re doing it wrong. Corporate emails are boring and trite, but I can type out a “hey please do this thing for me” faster than I can load up ChatGPT or Grammarly, type out my prompt, make sure the result is what I actually want to say, and then send it to my coworker. If you can’t, learn.

Apparently, Grammarly used to be a helpful way to check for spelling and grammar errors. I don’t have any issue with the AI that runs spellchecker whatsoever. I type so fast and miss typos constantly and when the spellchecker is absent, like on this website, it’s annoying af.

But that’s not what Grammarly is about anymore, and that’s not what the above ad was trying to sell you, either.

You won’t get better if you don’t practice. You won’t get better if you aren’t the one making, seeing, and fixing your mistakes. Especially if you write fiction where grammar rules are a suggestion at best. My published novel is littered with flagged words and sentence fragments that I know are technically improper English, but I sacrificed an MLA-proof paper for something fun and entertaining.

AI does not understand nuance and flavor text and aesthetic choices. It never will.

If you train yourself by using a crutch you don’t need, you will end up needing it because you’ll be too afraid to act without it.

Fuck up. Make a mess. Make mistakes. You won’t make them for long once you see them. You do not need a robot to do it for you. We’ve been writing books for hundreds of years and all the authors who came before did it just fine without a robot.

This isn’t even about writing novels, it’s about communicating in the written medium. Fucking. Learn. It’s not rocket science, it’s not coding in C++, it’s not brain surgery. It’s stringing words together in a comprehensible sentence.

And obligatory disclaimer: To anyone who has an impairment and needs these tools, this is not about you and you know it.

[wafflebroski]

If you're taking requests can you do Uzi, N, J, and V with a worker drone reader that's really good at building and inventing things. Like from small gadgets to make life easier to big things like weapons.

If you're a bob the builder drone? Sure!

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

Uzi

You kinda remind her of herself. She does enjoy building some cool gadgets from here and there (*Cough* Railgun *Cough*) so she will ask if she can help you build some gadgets that are either cool or helpful.

But don't let her go overboard with it. Suddenly, she's building another railgun because you have all these supplies and it's soooooooo convenient.

Like I said, don't go overboard.

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

N

He'd find it impressive and cool that you're interested in something that you actually like to do.

He'd help you find some parts that you need that you otherwise wouldn't be able to get.

Other than that, he'd ask you if you could fix his... Oil problem.

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

J

First things first, can you build something that could help her and her objectives?

If not, than don't even bother telling her that your interested in building gadgets. She wouldn't care.

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

V

At first, she would act careless about it. Apathetic even.

But after you build something just to impress her (which can be whatever) she'll immediately be impressed.

She'll actually stop acting as a flirty nuisance and actually compliment you normally.

Next thing you know she's asking you if you can build something that can break through those doors that she's been trying to get past of for a month.

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

I didn't really have a long prompt for this, so sorry.

EDIT: Grammar and spelling mistakes

[socheckitout-mikey]

do u think u could do something where johnny and the reader aren't officially dating or anything but she keeps stealing and wearing his clothes, and the gang starts teasing them for it, which eventually leads to him actually asking her out? i'm sorry if this is too much or anything but thank you so much!!

ahhh this is so cute! idk how i missed this one. my apologies for taking so long writing it out. it came out waaay longer than i anticipated, but i hope you enjoy what i came up with. (': <33 - mae

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Title: The Shirt Thief

Pairing: Johnny Cade x reader

Summary: A cold night with Johnny Cade in the vacant lot brings you an unusual sense of warmth in the form of his denim jacket. What starts off with said jacket, causes you to end up with multiple articles of Johnny's clothes. It all seems harmless until the gang starts digging their noses into Johnny's business. Are you guys friends or are you more than that?

Word Count: 9,472

Disclaimer: THIS IS EDITED! I fixed the spelling mistakes and some of the grammatical errors. I also added a few new things to it, mainly in dialogue. I hope you like it though! :)

Warnings: Mentions of abuse in Johnny's home (with his parents), animals hunting and fighting, Soc's bullying the reader - vice versa, almost attempted assault, the gang coming to the rescue, rough housing with the gang (banter mainly) and a whole lot of sass! Johnny is somewhat ooc here because he's more talkative and sassy, but it's just how the piece came along! Let me know if I forgot anything else.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

  The story of our pesky shirt thief begins in the vacant lot under the sparkling night sky. This night was a relatively clear one in the cusp of autumn’s frost. The full moon was ample, a stunning silver glow that hypnotically danced, shrouded slightly from the wispy clouds sent onward by the chilly fall wind. Amber, golden and burnt brick red crumpled leaves tumbled noisily across the sandy dirt in a mini whirlwind. A toasty fire was being nurtured timidly upon the outskirts of this deserted place, courtesy of Johnny Cade. Underneath the jagged canopy of an almost bare tree, losing its wrinkled leaves, our greasy raven haired boy’s fingers quivered around the spindly stick in his hand. Gave an experimental poke to the half snapped branch swarmed by the smouldering, orange flames. He did not shiver from the cold, but from rampant nerves that pertained to someone he was particularly fond of being there beside him. That person being you.

  In a gloomy haze, stretched over sixteen years, the dependent vacant lot with all of its decaying junk left to rot had become his home away from home. It was somewhere he could come to in order to escape the harshness he had just down the street, riddled with its cluttered and intense violence. The one he had with his parents – if he could ever really call them that – had never been consumed with even an inkling of love or nurturing. It practically rotted away from the inside out with its creaky floorboards, dust riddled insides and the damp lining the walls like a thick winter scarf. A location where he was destined to be neglected in, for the only attention he obtained was to be hollered at by his mother when she was hacked off at whatever or whoever it was that particular time: Whereas his father brandished anything he could in hand to pelt him with. The thought made Johnny shudder, a sick nauseous feeling welling up inside of him. Slimy and cold.

  However, not all was lost. There had been some silver linings in teaching him things such as love, loyalty and camaraderie: His gang of reliable buddies that would stretch to the ends of the Earth for him were the culprits. Although they had nothing too, they gave him everything he’d been missing. Well, almost everything. They were the sole reason he had not run away about a million times by now. They grounded him, created a net of safety and support that he never would have experienced otherwise if he had not been born in this very downtrodden neighbourhood. Yet they could not save him from everything – a harsh reality he came face to face with daily. Nothing and no one could ever replace the lacking love of his parents.

  Nevertheless, the youthful greaser that looked as if he were a puppy that had been kicked one too many times had grown used to bumming around most nights on the busted leather car seat left to waste away in the lot. A frequent bed he now sat upon to gaze up at the glittering stars in the midnight haze of the dark sky. He pondered to himself, watching it while his most favourite person in the world sat off to his right. The silence between you both wasn’t awkward or uncomfortable. Just off experiencing your own inner worlds whilst you enjoyed the other’s presence. Johnny wasn’t much of a talker as is. You understood the chips he had on the table and didn’t mind in the slightest, but you had your ways of getting him talking.

  Despite the fact that he had a warmer and much more benevolent destination to crash at nightly: The Curtis House. He felt an immense pang of guilt and shame engulf him entirely at the thought of taking up that space. This house did not consume the same dreamy and abundant riches that one would desire at the core. Instead those fantasies were only destined for reality on the Wicked West Side of Tulsa, Oklahoma. “The home to the rich and greedy,” as Sodapop loved to put it.

  Although the Curtis House lacked in material volume, it oozed a charm in its bare necessities and rundown appearance, with its peeling papered walls and well played piano that needed a miracle of tuning. What it lacked when it came to standardised beauty was made up for by its glowing warmth of love, companionship and acceptance of all the inhabitants that nestled under its rickety roof. It was a safe haven for anyone needing a place to lay low to avoid getting into trouble that could be avoided; a.k.a trouble with the law. Dallas and Steve were also regular inhabitants of the well loved couch perched up against the wall by the front door of the home: A product of powerful tempers that needed quenching. They found solace on that old, brown cushiony hunk of junk just as Johnny did when the nights grew too cold or unbearable on his lonesome.

  Johnny stared up at Orion's Belt wondrously, remembering the time he'd heard Ponyboy rattle on about how he'd woken up to find the notorious Tim Shepard occupying his couch, reading the morning paper.

  'Now, what in the hell was someone like Tim Shepard doin' on the Curtis’ couch?' Johnny thought silently.

  Never had he bagged the likes of the eldest Shepard to reach out for a lifeline like that. It was almost unheard of, unfathomable. Tim was a handsome young man with a gnarly looking scar running from his temple to his chin. He was hard, cold and twisted. Jail, booze and all the criminal endeavours he had under his belt were like a morbid toolkit of how to be the best hoodlum out there. He looked about as capable of accepting charity as a lost soul in Hell. Then Johnny supposed that he never really knew him like Dally did. Johnny's silent disposition made it challenging for him to get close to anyone outside of his gang of buddies. Sometimes he preferred it this way, but usually he loathed it. Loneliness was easy in warping the soul of a good man.

  From what Dally had told him of Tim Shepard, it'd be an immense knock to his swelling pride to reach out for help and have everyone aware of it. Inflated prides and fragile egos didn't do wonders for people with big mouths. Hence why Johnny kept his damn trap shut about it after Pony had told him.

  'Man, he's gotta be pullin' my leg or somethin'.' He said internally before shaking his head.

  Expelling a breath, Johnny settled back into the leather seat as comfortably as possible. He swore he'd get a bad back after opting to take the lumpy side of the car bench with the springs gnawing their way through. It had been the gentlemanly thing to do after all. He was a good guy with a good heart.

  Warmth pervaded nicely from the reasonably sized fire he'd established in front of you both, but the chilly wind licked at any bare bits of skin daring to peer through tiny cracks in clothes. He hardly shivered outside of a nervous twitch. Perhaps that was only due to the fact he'd grown accustomed to the elements no matter the weather – unlike yourself.

  Instead his charcoal eyes were doe-like, shakily flickering to his right where you sat. Only then in this moment did he fully come to the present moment, understanding the cold bit at your nose, ears and fingers in a way that looked cute. Yet despite your shivering that you so desperately attempted to hide, you sat there in all of your beautiful glory with only a few inches of space between you both. A comfortability you bathed in that seemed so raw, as if you were merely sitting on your living room couch with both of your knees and feet tucked under you and just off to the side. Peace prevailed from the tender smile gracing your features. A subconscious practice, you definitely seemed to be lost in your own thoughts. Johnny stared at you, and wondered what kind of movie was flashing behind those pretty eyes to have the sun dawn across your face like that. To him, all he could see was the vacant lot – a desolate place where only hoodlums would hang in droves, drawn in by its trashy grounds.

  "You starin' cuz I got somethin' on my mug or it's just that ugly?" You grinned like a chessy cat, turning to look him directly in the eye. Thinking that being a wise cracker was funny.

  Damn you and your perceptiveness.

  Instantaneously Johnny ripped his gaze from yours, stiff as a plank. Embarrassment dashed across every cell in his body and left his lungs flat of oxygen. Man, if he thought his usual heartbeat was fast, what was happening inside of his chest right then must have been the speed of goddamn light!

  All he could do was stammer out, "U-u-uh n-n-neither!" The poor guy sounded like Porky The Pig. 

  Your eyelids fluttered in astonishment at the stuttering mess of a young man he was. So jumpy. A mouse scuttling around on sharp eggshells. Part of you would've felt proud of your handiwork if it had been anyone else, but it was Johnny, your best friend. "Awe shucks, Johnny-cake," you offered him sheepishly, "I didn't tell you to stop. I was just messin' with ya. Gotta keep you on your toes somehow."

  Messing with him? That was evident. He wasn't cross with you for pulling on his leg, just bothered by himself for getting caught out in the act. "S'okay, I g-get it." He shrugged, trying to play it cool whilst he stared into the portal to the Underworld.

  "Penny for your thoughts?" You tried again, bumping him softly with your shoulder.

  "Nothin' much," He lied smoothly, picking at the hole in his tennis shoe.

  "You sure you ain't developin' the cure for cancer or somethin'? You're pretty smart." You inquired with a cheeky beam.

  "Shoot! Do I look like I know what two plus two equals?" Johnny was getting a little bit sassy.

  "Okay okay, I get it. I'll back off." You chortled.

  'Yeah, thank goodness for that…' Johnny thought to himself. Suddenly he was uneasy with the idea of you ever discovering his little moments of staring at you because he loved the way you looked in candid moments like this one just passed. How did one go about saying these kinds of things? Johnny didn't know a lick. He was a dejected lost cause in the romance department. An awkward bump on a log. Felt he looked cruddy right about now too so he scratched the back of his head fervently for a second. No one really gave him a second glance. He was invisible and too quiet to be noticed.

  Yet he failed to realise that you noticed him.

  His forlorn expression had been obscured by his shaggy bangs that hung on his forehead. In fact, they no longer existed. You watched him struggle with something akin to wrestling a twenty foot gator inside of that skull of his. It made you feel funny on the inside, as if you were to blame. Diligently Johnny picked up the jagged stick he'd used to poke the flames with earlier. Started drawing in the dusty cold dirt at his feet. Back and forth, left and right, then round and round. A tedious therapeutic cycle.

  'Yup, he's off to the moon again.' You thought. 'I'll give him a sec to recoup. I think I made him short circuit a little too hard.' 

  Just then the bleakness of the night pressed its breathy lips against you. You shivered in response, huddling unconsciously to Johnny for his radiator heat. Part of him was shaking too. The flames jolted haphazardly. A violent twirl of dead leaves kicked up into the air before the wind relented altogether and they fluttered into the fire that engulfed them. It was a beautiful sight indeed, albeit destructive. The elements typically were unforgiving. That was the cycle of life. Mother Nature worked in wondrous ways that went beyond the mere perception of the human mind. Ever evolving and always there. It had put a smile on your face, and Johnny looked at you once more.

  "Now, you wanna give me a penny for your thoughts?" He asked.

  You slowly turned to look at him, your smile unwavering, "And cash in my trade secrets when you won't give me yours? That don't tally up to me."

  Johnny shrugged, trying to hide a ghost of a smile on his features, "You just caught me off guard that's all…"

  "Oooooh so I got the element of surprise on my side?" You wiggled your eyebrows. "Who knew I was mighty smooth!"

  Johnny rolled his charcoal eyes, shook his head with a laugh, "Don't get too big headed now," he warned.

  "Why, cuz I'll float away?" 

  "Naw," Johnny shook his head, "You sound like Two-bit."

  Your countenance fell from grace then; all of the humour drained completely, replaced with a sulk. "Now you just went and ruined it."

  Johnny laughed heartily, "I dunno why you got it against him, yn. It was only fifth grade-," 

  "Don't remind me of fifth grade! He put gum in my hair and you saw it." You warned with a finger pointed at him. “I looked like a coconut headed bum for two years, Johnny Cade! Two years I ain’t ever gonna get back.”

  "Alright, alright! Don't shoot." He mumbled with a half smirk on his face.

  "And don't laugh either. Who's side are you on anyway?" You mumbled with your arms folded over your chest.

  Johnny met his match in attempting to swallow the laughter down, "Who knew you were this much of a sore loser," with a shake of his head.

  "Sore loser my ass…" You retorted, looking off to the side like a petulant child.

  All Johnny could do was laugh.

  The sourness of your mood forced you to realise the lateness of the night. The cold showed its first signs of frost that danced mistily away from the firelight. You quivered fully this time, rubbing your nimble hands up and down your arms. "Are you cold?" Johnny finally had the courage to ask.

  "Uh-huh! But I'll be okay."

  "You know you don't have to tough it out for me, right?" Johnny said sincerely. "You shoulda brought a coat. It's November not August."

  "I forgot, mom." You mumbled wryly.

  "Man, don't call me that. It sounds strange." He pulled a face as he spoke.

  "And why not?" You demanded. 

  "Cuz you sound like T-," He began, but you cut him off.

  "Don't even think about saying that name!"

  Despite himself, Johnny was laughing something awful. A grin spread across his face akin to a mixture of pride and victory. He'd bested you in the end and even you knew it. "You asshole-," You muttered, but it all bled through into your own sense of laughter that mingled with his. 

  Then it seemed to die down, a comfortable glow encasing you both. In the midst of it you hardly realised Johnny shimmying beside you – too caught up in the afterglow. But then an uncanny warmth of freshly worn denim was draped over your shoulders. Ghosts of fingertips touched the nape of your neck as it was laid there. Your head turned to find Johnny retracting his hands shyly and passing it off without a word. The gesture touched you, made you feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

  "Why?" Your better judgement couldn't stop the question from flying out of your mouth.

  Johnny squirmed uncomfortably under your focused stare, "I dunno…" he shrugged. "You were cold and didn't have a jacket. It was the right thing to do I guess."

  The right thing to do. It made you beam beautifully then. Johnny Cade was always doing the right thing. Well, maybe not all the time when he was with his buddies, but usually he did. A good guy with a good heart that made yours flutter at the touch. The act of giving you his most prized possession really touched you in ways that made your eyes begin to water. You needed a second to blink them back. Hoping he hadn't noticed. Luckily he hadn't. 

  You thanked him in the only way you knew how to, by leaning your head on his shoulder. He stiffened to the touch, unfamiliar with it. Johnny wasn't much of a hugger, so physical contact was reserved for special moments. He allowed it this time and you felt his body shake, unsure with what to do with himself. Your fingers wrapped around his bicep, a reassuring squeeze so light it helped him realise you weren't going to hurt him. You never could. He was too special, too gentle, but wild in his own way when he let himself out freely. Yet the person he was now, the boy that gave you his jacket and talked with you the most; that was your Johnny Cade.

�� "Thank you, Johnny-cake." You whispered into the air, gently holding his hand and squeezing softly. It was sweaty.

  "D-don't mention it." He swallowed, giving you an experimental squeeze back. "It's just my jacket, softie."

  "Who you callin' softie?" You look up at him with a cocked eyebrow.

  "You."

  Silence befell you, and it was laced in a tranquil dose. Hushed whispers reverberated off of the caverns in your hearts, growing more prominent. All the giggles filled with the springy frolicking of baby lambs. Clumsy and endearing. Johnny lit a fire in you unmatched and vice versa. Young love that was mutual, but unknown to the other. You stayed with him for quite some time, until he walked you home. You'd sent him off with a wave after him shyly telling you to keep it. Made him promise not to sleep out in the cold, and Johnny kept his word. Slunk all the way to the Curtis House three hours before sunup to fortunately find it free. Rest was his, all with a smile screwed on tightly to his features.

  Many more instances of thievery occurred with your pesky little fingers and the growing feelings that possessed you like a restless spirit. Time spent with Johnny became your drug of choice, and you could not get enough of him. No funny business was happening, it was just your personalities melding well together. You brought out a sassy part to him, and surprisingly he could keep up with you. Each meeting was set in colder conditions than the last. Forcing Johnny to bring in what little reinforcements he had. You either seemed to forget a jacket or your layers weren't nearly enough. His jacket was a chameleon's skin, bouncing from his shoulders to yours. His shirts were a comforting reminder of him when he wasn't around – shields against the bleakness of winter. His grey sweatshirt was your favourite. Everything began to accumulate. 

  One day you were both coming from the tracks in the Shepard outfit where a little creek was running through another vacant lot by an old abandoned factory. The water was still frozen and the trees were barren. All sorts of junk stuck to the frosty ground. It was kind of niche-like, a quiet place that seemed abandoned when the sun shone its rays upon Tulsa. It had been an accidental find during a summer day the year before. A superb place to explore when things were warmer and less soggy. Though it was apparent that neither of you had the courage to explore the dangerous insides of the abandoned warehouse in its entirety. Anyone could be lurking there, boobietrapped the innards to protect their stashed hoards. So the pair of you stuck to the outskirts towards the vacant lot beside it.

  There you both were, sat upon a crumpled wall, admiring a winter's afternoon like a pair of Humpty Dumpty’s. The sun was bright in the sky, threatening to melt the world entirely. The first inklings of spring graced reality. The robins were chirping, hopping around in search of food nearby. Adorable feathered critters, so fluffy. They reminded Johnny of Christmas as one turned its neck beside him, curiously looking up into his black eyes. Both were inquisitive of the other.

  "He looks like you-," your half whisper broke out into the air too loudly. The disturbance made the robin jolt and fly off.

  Johnny sighed, "Man, he got so close this time. You just had to go and ruin it didn't you?"

  "I'm sorry. Was there a spiritual connection happening? How rude of me!" You gasped with a hand over your heart.

  He shook his head, grinning because he wasn't angry about it at all. "He was a cute little guy though…"

  "Hence why I said he looked like you." You clarified.

  Johnny exploded with a blush, shaking his head again, "You must've hit your head when you fell on the ice earlier."

  "My head is not any worse off than it was before, thank you very much!" You defended yourself.

  "You know, the first sign of someone tellin’ porkies is denial, right?"

  "I am not tellin’ porkies!"

  "Are too-," Johnny countered, nudging you with his elbow.

  "Am not!"

  Falling back into that effortless banter made you both grin like chessy cats. It was silly, but very much needed. You knew Johnny got extra embarrassed whenever you'd start complimenting him, especially in the looks department. You didn't say these things just to throw him off, but because you truly meant them. Johnny was cute. One of the cutest guys you'd seen in a longtime. Maybe he wasn't moviestar handsome like Sodapop, but girls were missing out when they overlooked him. He had his own things to bring to the table; loyalty, kindness, abiding the law… Just to name a few. You suddenly shook these thoughts out of your head, deciding if you went too deeply down this path that it was best not to be done in Johnny’s presence. Lest you were to blabber about it like you'd done to your other friends who'd told you to ask him out already. They just didn't understand how delicate the matter was really. Johnny wouldn't say yes anyway.

  "Hey look! Those cats are back," Johnny quietly hissed by your side, pulling you out of your daze.

  You followed his line of sight and sure enough the two male felines were there. Lithe in nature and mean looking. A skinny orange tabby trotted forward, a snaggle tooth protruding from his mouth. By his side was his black Bombay counterpart, scraggy bodied with dirty fur and a distinct chip taken from his ear. They were silent, far from their former glory days when they knew what a good home was. The Bombay was a little bigger than his cheddar companion, and it was easily understood by any human looking in that a pact had been formed between them through a necessity to survive. The pair of you had spied them before, a distrusting set that initially hissed and growled. They were all claws and teeth so you kept your distance to avoid any surprise visits to the clinic. However now they seemed to tolerate your presence, acting as if the silence you exuded exempted your existence. Johnny and you admired them, goofy grins on your faces, because the cats were ready to commit their timely crime of hunting for some grub of the day. You knew who they reminded you of.

  "Well if that ain't Dally and Tim," You consciously made the effort to whisper.

  Johnny nodded in agreement, "Yeah, I can see it."

  "Which one's which?" You asked, genuinely curious about Johnny's take.

  He was reluctant to take his eyes off the cats, watching them begin prowling forth towards an unsuspecting robin. "Huh?" he hummed, finally looking at you just as you leaned your head on his shoulder.

  "Which cat is Dally and which one is Tim? You know 'em better than I do." You pressed softly.

  "Oh, that's easy, Dally's the ginger tabby and Tim's the Bombay." He offered with a nod of his head in the felines direction.

  "What why?" You demanded it up at him.

  “Well if we’re goin’ off their looks for a start, Tim looks like the Bombay cat. Guy is a real alley cat – got a lot of street smarts and carries himself well. Besides, he's tougher than a bag of nails.” Johnny did have a point – Tim looked just like that black cat with his curly jet hair.

  Speaking of the black cat, it had entered a state of hunting, kneeling down with coiled taught muscles – just ready to pounce on that unsuspecting robin below, pecking at the seeds you and Johnny had left behind earlier. You hoped it wouldn’t be eaten, couldn’t stomach to see something so savage. However, you supposed that was only the way the circle of life worked.

  “The orange tabby’s Dally cuz of that cool look in his eyes. The way he carries himself so freely. Out of the two, the tabby’s the one that’s in charge somehow. He writes the rules that the other cat’s always tryna best.” Johnny offered with a brief shrug before continuing, “Not that the black cat is following any rules. Both have minds of their own.”

  Boy, you could really hear the way he admired Dallas Winston from the way he spoke about the orange tabby. It was wholesome. Dally was Johnny’s hero — the kid practically worshipped the ground the guy walked on. You didn’t see why. To you, Dallas Winston was a rotten hoodlum with a track record of breaking the law in every way, shape and form that he could. He frightened you like The Boogeyman had when you were nine. Where you both engaged with each other somewhat cordially, you preferred to keep your distance. You supposed that you had no room to judge after all. There was a deep friendship that had developed between him and Johnny; you’d seen it in Dally’s cold hard eyes… affection. It made you grin then, wondering if Johnny thought strangely of your heroes too.

  “And both of them are jackasses.” You countered, bumping his shoulder mischievously.

  Johnny laughed a little, looking at you for a few short moments. “Yeah alright, I’ll give you that.”

  You liked the way he’d described the two though. It was a statement that fit the pair of hoodlums in a peapod together. Yet the orange tabby did appear to be the leader as it licked its wonky chops delectably. Inched closer by the second, a silent assassin to carry out its hunter gatherer lifestyle. It was intelligent, mimicking the movement of the robin that had caught onto it. It lured the bird on a swift and winding course, swiping for it good and hard but missed. Never mind. The robin fluttered up and into the line of sight of the black cat, a moment of fear in its beady eyes. Yet just as the night-like feline swept its razors at it, the robin burst into the air and flew off in the opposite direction. It had missed its meal by a feathers length. Every other robin in the vicinity flew off instantly, leaving the two cats dumbfounded.

  In frustration, the orange tabby yowled and darted forth. Its clawed paw zipped out and popped the mouth of the black cat. The black cat hissed, stunned for a mere second before it lunged for the only comrade it had in this god forsaken world. The two tumbled together in an infuriated Halloween special of blurred fur. A gasp floated from your mouth as they rolled back and forth. A genuine cat fight unheard of. They sounded like two ghouls trying to out spook the other – alien and loud.

  Johnny couldn’t help but laugh out of nervousness. He wasn’t trying to be cruel whatsoever. Didn’t like to see animals fighting and hurting each other, but it humoured some sick part of him. “Just like Dally and Tim, huh? Buddies one minute then at each other’s throats the next.”

  “Amen to that.” You found the humour of the situation, only because it was too similar to the real life hoodlums you both knew.

  You’d seen your fair share of those guys beefing it out in the past together in The Dingo parking lot, let alone practically in your own backyard. They were a strange duo – too competitive and cut from the same cloth. They’d never find another person just like them, that was for sure.

  Just then an icy gust came throttling through the area, reminding you both that it was still winter. A tremor ran through the pair of you, and you huddled together for warmth. By now the cats had slumped off to their own corners of the lot, hissing and growling as they went. Sore egos and bodies made them sulk and mewl in the shade whilst they licked their wounds.

  “Dammit-,” your teeth chattered, moving closer to Johnny. “March my ass…”

  Johnny breathed a laugh, shaking his head. He scanned your features humorously, those bushy brows hidden by a thick blanket of his black greasy bangs that flopped onto his forehead.

  “What?” You mumbled, your fingertips unconsciously reached for him in the space between you both. Johnny didn’t notice.

  He stared at you for a good three seconds before opening his mouth to speak, “How can you be cold with all those layers you got on?”

  “Well I mean it’s obvious, it’s winter.”

  “Uh-huh-,” Johnny sassed, smirking slightly, “As if you ain’t wearin’ my shirt, my sweater and my jeans jacket too. Got the whole department store on your back.”

  Abashment took hold of you as your gaze dropped down to inspect yourself. There was Johnny’s jacket on you, and underneath his tattered grey sweater, that black t-shirt poking up above the collar. And Johnny? He was adorned in a wrinkled white shirt with a blue and creamy egg yellow flannel over the top you guessed was one of the gang’s. Worn over that was Dally’s brown leather jacket with the cosy sheepskin lining. You pouted with a bruised ego, looking off to the side, “It’s not like you’re naked or nothin’…” you murmured petulantly.

  Johnny chuckled breathily, your joined hands jostling as he tugged on it without any semblance of awareness, as if to gain your attention. “Not yet, but I’m gonna be! Man, do you know what I had to say to get this jacket from Dally?” He was teasing you.

  “Mmmppppffff…” you grunted, crossing your legs on that wall.

  “The guys are askin’ questions and I dunno what to tell ‘em any more!” His voice broke a bit before he continued, “Two thinks I’m preparin' to run down the centre of town butt naked!”

  That made you burst out into fits of giggles. The thought was so unorthodox it was hilarious. “You’re tellin’ him that’s the truth right? God, could you imagine? I can see the news articles now: Johnny Cade, Teenage Delinquent Gone Buck Wild!” You beamed, throwing your free hand out to elaborate some unseen picture.

  Johnny shook his head again, laughing with you, “Man, you’re just as bad as Soda!”

  “I’m twice as good looking too!” You offered with all the cheekiness you could muster.

  All he could offer was an entertained roll of his eyes. Your shoulders bumped together, old comrades turned into something more. His soft gaze fell onto your interwoven fingers, and his heart fluttered like dove wings. A widened gaze, then that notorious blush exploded under that tanned flesh. His mind was incapable of functioning. It was wholesome, but you read everything wrong. Made a move to release his hand and he stopped you.

  "Don't." It was the strongest word you'd heard from him as he held your hand tighter than he ever had before. Not enough to hurt you, but to let you know it was real too.

  "Y-you sure?" It was your turn to stutter.

  The look he shared with you may have been wavering to some degree, but there was certainty in those eyes. His mouth opened to speak, "Yeah, I don't mind one bit."

   I don't mind one bit. It ran round and round in your head. A starstruck expression invaded your beautiful countenance. The reassurance was a bonus that made your belly fill with a plethora of butterflies. Cloud nine had nothing on this moment.

  Johnny explored the expressions flitting across your face with a newfound sense of wonder. That pleasant delight racing through you was infectious as you stared off into the junk riddled vacant lot, your mind preoccupied with his hand in yours. The sun dawned across your features once again, like that autumn night you'd spent with him in your neighbourhood's vacant lot. The understanding that he was the source of that made his belly squirm, a giddiness overcoming him. He could no longer deny the fondness he had for you so blatantly.

  With him leaning a little closer to you, he whispered, "How about you give me at least some of my stuff back?" 

  "Mmmmm maybe,"

  "yn-," there was an uncommon sense of sternness in his voice.

  "But-," You tried objecting.

  "No buts-," he rushed out with a shake of his head, "At least give me one! I've been wearing this shirt for three days now!" He was hilariously incredulous.

  "Is that why you stink?" You taunted him.

  "Not funny-," He made his best attempt to be cross with you.

  "Okay, okay! I'll give them back." You said begrudgingly.

  "You better bring the cavalry with how much you have stolen from me, you little shirt thief."

  "In my defence, you did give them to me… But I'll have them for you next time I see you, scouts honour!" You spoke sincerely with your free hand held dramatically over your heart.

  "Uh-huh, that's what you said last time and I still didn't get 'em back." He bantered.

  "Well, that wasn't a real scout's honour." You admitted with a diffident rub to the back of your head.

  "yn-," he shook his head.

  "Hey! I'm serious this time."

  "Good…" He trailed off, his other hand beginning to play with the rings banded around your fingers absentmindedly.

  Blissfulness carried upon the wind, a promise of returning what wasn't yours already settled. Golden light broke through the clouds, catching Johnny in the face directly, which made him grimace evidently. You grew lost in his handsome physique, feeling the pad of his thumb drag up and down the back of your hand. The sensation was special, because Johnny had warmed up to you so much.

  It was a lively Saturday night, and with the determined honour of a scout member, you showed up like clockwork with a bag filled with Johnny's things. It was just as the crowds at The Nightly Double encroached upon the Tulsa streets in boisterous droves. Everyone was high on the giddy delight of the movie they had just watched – the late night viewing of two specials before the drive-in closed its doors for the night. Previous arrangements with another friend had you missing out on the fun, but here you were wearing your very own leather jacket with Johnny's denim one bunched up nervously in the palms of your hands. Speaking of Johnny, he had tagged along with the gang – minus Darry, because movies seemed to bore the older man to death.

  A pair of scrawny looking Socy guys stalked out of the front doors, acting like big shots, cutting in front of a dark green Corvair on its way out and into the oncoming traffic. The driver of the same social class hung out of the driver's window whilst his girl attempted to pull him back in.

  "Hey watch it, wise guys! If you're lookin' to get your asses run over, then be my guests and step back in my line of sight!" He snarled aggressively before his girlfriend won the battle and pulled him back inside to tell him to "knock it off".

  A line began to form behind them as the couple argued incessantly, presumably over the guy's foul temper. Car horns honked on the spring breeze, forcing the guy to nervously step on the gas. They almost crashed into a Chevy Impala before zipping off home. You could see the animated scowl of the girl refusing to talk to her boyfriend in the side view mirror as they retreated. She glowered at you as if you were the scum of the earth. It didn't make you feel too hot.

  The two wisecracking Soc's cackled at their attempts at being hard, stalking forth when they caught sight of your lonesome form. Vile cackles were shot your way as they walked past you before deciding the better option was to encircle you like a couple of hammerhead sharks.

  'Boy, these dingbats don't know what tree they're barking up.' You thought, stiffening your body up for any form of unexpected physical contact. You weren't gonna let yourself get blown over that easy. 

  "What's up, greaser? You lookin' to bum around on our streets?" The six foot tall pencil with the sour breath sneered down at you, bumping your shoulder, making a come around to your left. When he disappeared behind you, the other one with chestnut hair the texture of straw invaded your face.

  "Yeah, who said you were allowed round these parts anyway?" He jeered, smacking his gum obnoxiously.

  Typically these dorks wouldn't have been graced with so much of your attention, but being on your own with a whole sea of onlookers made you weary. However you sure didn't show it. No one was there to stand up for you so you had to do it yourself. All you could do was raise your eyebrows, feeling the burning sense of humiliation rise from the pits of hell beneath your feet. It felt toasty, but the wrong kind. A glower of pure vexation was sent up their way. 'Who are these cocky jackasses, anyway? I've got the same right to use these streets like anyone else!' You contemplated.

  "Oh really? I never knew white trash chequerboards like yourselves owned the streets everybody walks on." Your lips flapped wryly before you could even say a word.

  The entertained gazes of onlookers of every social class stopped to stare. Murmurs of speculation broke out: Two against one didn't typically seem like a fair fight, but with the sheer scrawniness of the socially elite, it seemed to look like the chips fell in your favour. Though you knew appearances could be deceiving, harbouring a surprising sense of physical strength.

  In a rift of the crowd, six pairs of familiar eyes honed in on your shining moment of unprovoked confrontation.

  "White trash chequerboards?!" The pencil growled out, sharing a glance with his straw haired counterpart. For the most part they were dumbfounded, not having expected you to stand up for yourself.

  "If anyone's white trash, it's you, greaseball." The second one jutted his finger in your face.

  Nothing about your countenance betrayed you. Cold and detached you stared at that finger in your face with a deep sense of boredom. Then an almost smug smirk etched your features as you stared up into his grey eyes.

  "Oh my, my!" A dripping sense of mocking venom entered your tone. "Seems like I got more class than that finger you got pointed at me. Seriously, you got a licence to be armed with carryin' that thing? You better watch what you do with it before it falls into the wrong hands. You know, because with great power comes great responsibility and all." You were armed with so much sass it made you invincible.

  The crowd surrounding you burst into a fit of laughter so potent that it burnt these punks into a startled pile of ash. The pair of Soc's were so vapid that they were a bore even to themselves, which is why they were acting out as if they were five times their sizes. You were lively, armed with a silver tongue that could slice just about anyone to pieces who tried to humiliate you.

  "Oh yeah, you little punk?" The first one growled, invading all sense of your personal space.

  You took one step back, your eyebrows raised, "It's his responsibility, not mine. Whatch'yu gettin' all riled up for, eh? Can't take a joke, Mister Funny?"

  "I'll show you a joke when I knock your two front teeth out." He barked.

  Oooh's and aaah's broke through the crowd on a symphony of guffawing. You cocked one eyebrow up at him, a cockiness overcoming you. What could you do otherwise? If no one had your back, you had to have your own. That was just the way the cookie crumbled when you were a greaser – if there was a cookie at all.

  "Oooooh~ Don't threaten me with a good time, pencil dick." You snorted. "I will bend your ass like a goddamn pretzel before you can even have a chance to beg for your mommy to save you."

  The two guys shared a look, the degradation burning their senses of pride to withering embers. Their faces were pinkened beyond recognition, boarding on a fiery red. Your insults only poured gasoline on the fires. They couldn't back out now with the engrossed mass around the three of you. Your body stiffened as they went to grab you, preparing yourself for a fight that would no doubt cause the fuzz to come shutting it down. The image of yourself being cuffed in the back of a cop car had you overcome with a sense of terror. You weren't made for jail with your sharp tongue and sass. Wouldn't last two seconds flat in a grim place like that.

  Before any contact could occur, a boisterous New York accent throttled into the air, a familiar arm slinking over your shoulders, "Hey Dumb and Dumber, you really wanna go gettin' your asses handed to you by a girl in front of all of these people?" Dallas was snickering with a smoke hanging out of his mouth, leaning against you smoothly as he patted your upper arm, but he wasn't your only saviour.

  The other five lean and hard looking members of the Curtis gang had rolled up in all of their greasy headed glory. Pony and Johnny were Dally's flanks whilst Sodapop and Steve jammed themselves on either side of the pathetic turkeys that had bothered you. Two-bit prowled like a cat, that smug, wild grin carved onto his handsome features. The oldest of the six came in the centre of the perpetrators, an arm slung on each of their shoulders. It was overly friendly, even for Two.

  "Well, well, well, if it ain't the socially elite barking up a tree they didn't know was a mountain! I'd get your eyes checked if I were you." He laughed, squeezing them together under his impressive arms. The others joined in.

  "I think it's time these tuff lookin' sons of bitches got in the ring with the big shots." Steve yipped sarcastically, clapping the straw haired guy on the back a little too roughly.

  "Lookin' like a bunch of heavyweight champs, am I right?" Soda leered, his once kind blue eyes filled with a mischievous malice.

  The two Soc's looked at each other, realising they'd made a mistake in targeting you. "We don't want any trouble." The first one said, fumbling.

  "Yeah! We was only just jokin' around." The other made a pitiful attempt at joining in on the laughter.

  "Oh really now?" Dally quipped through dragon's breath, plucking his smoke from his lips and wiping the back of his index finger under his nose like he was annoyed. "I call bullshit, beanpole. Ain't that right, Johnny?" Dally asked Johnny, motioning towards him.

  With a black gaze as cold as obsidian, Johnny nodded his head, "Sure thing, Dally." He refused to take his gaze off of the perpetrators who recognised that hoodlum's menacing name anywhere.

  "Pony?" Dally turned, looking over your head at the fourteen year old greaser with the greyish green eyes. He put that smoke back in between his lips and inhaled sharply.

  "Yup!" Pony popped the 'p' at the end of the word.

  "Great, it's settled!" Dally exclaimed, pulling his arm from over your shoulders and rubbing his hands together like a fly with an evil plan. He stepped forward, his face a mere couple of inches from theirs. "You dumbasses get to go toe to toe with me for fucking with the wrong person, and then my buddies will have what's left of you. How do you like the sound of that?" 

  The way Dally seethed it even had you shaking in your boots. There was almost a sense of honour riding on your guts. It wasn't everyday that Dallas Winston was standing up for you, but when it happened you took it willingly. The two guys had become pale ghosts, shuddering with sweat dewing their foreheads. Dally meant those words, but it seemed he was mainly toying with them. So were the rest of the gang too. With matching Cheshire grins plastered on their faces they watched as the two shoved past Soda, tripping over the boot Johnny had stuck out and shot in through an opening in the crowd to salvation. Sent to faceplant on the ground with a series of laughter as the drama seemed to be over for the most part and people lost interest.

  "Where are you goin'? Wait until we set her on ya!" Sodapop called, wrapping his arm around Steve's shoulders. 

  "Yeah, she may seem like she’s all bark, but she's got one hell of a bite!" Steve cackled.

  Lost in an ocean of chaos, Johnny's inquiry of concern for you slithered back down his throat. He bled into the background, admiring the way your eyes rolled as the wisecracking descended upon you.

  "The hell was that, kid?" Dally said between inhaling his smoke. Rubbing the top of your head with his ringed fingers awarded him with a generous shove from you. His treatment hurt, but he was happy to see you, which was unusual.

  "Get offa me-," You grunted and he eventually relented.

  Before Steve could chime in about you being a smart ass or wandering around on your lonesome, your most dreaded member of the gang came blundering on over. A half drunken stupor holding him up by some invisible string, "Haha! Where did you learn to talk like that? Dare I say you got some inspiration from somebody in particular?" He waggled his eyebrows at you.

  "Oh, well ain't those the biggest words you’ve ever said! Ugh, don’t make me sick, two cents." You bit at him.

  "Eh, at least I'm worth somethin' in this world." He chuckled, clapping your shoulder.

  "That was meant to be an insult." You retorted.

  "Really? That's a whole compliment and a half!" He exclaimed with his arms thrown up.

  "Yeah yn, I sure can hear the church bells ringin' right now!" Soda grinned at you, cupping his free hand over his ear. In fact, to seal the deal he wrapped his arm around your shoulders as the seven of you began walking to your neighbourhood.

  Steve came up on the other side, walking the tight line of the curb, "From haters to lovers!" He beamed, spreading his palms out in the open space before you like he was presenting a far away picture. "It all started when you were in fifth grade and he was in sixth, gum to the hair, a pop to the mouth and the rest was history!"

  Johnny listened and observed, laughing halfheartedly along with his buddies. Something about Soda's and Steve's words tugged on his heartstrings in a plucking fashion. It was uncomfortable and didn't sit right with him. Yet he couldn't be too mopey about it, it wasn't like anybody knew his growing feelings for you. By now there was a confusion in your friendship, as if all these special moments you'd experienced together had evolved the friendship into something else. He was afraid of what that meant. Things would never be the same ever again, and he found himself eyeing up the bag full of his clothes on your shoulder and his jeans jacket wadded into your hand.

  Well, at least your promise had been genuine this time.

  If you weren't riled up before you were now. A sucker punch to the gut was minutely dodged by Steve, who hopped to safety behind Dallas like a kangaroo. Being surrounded by people you knew was nice as the mood settled somewhat. Johnny found his natural place to the left of you, keeping in time with your easy pace.

  Sodapop raised his eyebrows and asked the question everyone had been wondering, "Hey yn, what were you doing there all alone?"

  "Ain't that Steve's line?" You quipped.

  “Gettin’ to be more and more like Ponyboy everyday, yn!” Steve warned, messing up Pony’s hair for comedic relief.

  Pony was certainly not pleased, pulling his comb out of his back pocket and using the sideview mirror of a car to fix his hair in the dark. “Stupid Steve…” grumbled past his lips.

  “What was that?” Steve barked next to Soda.

  “Nothin’, said I looked stupid…” He lied with burnt cheeks and ears to match.

  "That's what I thought, little guy." Steve stared at him.

  Once the commotion had somewhat settled Dally eyed you up and spoke through his smoke, “Soda’s got a point. What were you doing there?” He noticed that bag over your shoulder and whistled, “Did your goody two shoes ass get kicked out or are you just droppin’ by to bid your farewells on us common folk before you skip town?”

  Put on the spot, you hesitated for a second, “Uh, I just came to see Johnny.”

  “With the entire mall's inventory?” Two grinned wickedly, pressing for more information. "Johnny's become quite the charity case lately." He teased, noogying Johnny playfully who shrugged him off with a small laugh.

  “Hey wait a sec, isn't that Johnny’s jeans jacket?” Pony spoke up once his precious hair had been rearranged.

  Dallas’s pesky fingers swiped the jacket in your hands with a mind of his own – and like a chimp, he examined its authentication closely. The five other members gathered around him as if he held the fifth wonder, which left you and Johnny with the liberation of simultaneously backing up at the edges of the throng. “You wanna make a break for it?” You hissed your suggestion at Johnny, who nodded his head.

  That’s when five heads whipped up with dumbfounded expressions. This was Johnny’s jacket! The one he said he’d lost. Soda’s eyes were the first to eye up that bag strapped to your shoulder, a familiar grey sweater poking out through the zipper that wouldn't close properly. “Hold on one stinkin’ minute.” Realisation hit him with a dopey grin.

  Two caught on next, his hand grasping the bag strap and pulling it from your shoulder. In the same motion he’d freed the grey sweater from the confines, only to find more clothes underneath. “Haha!” He cackled noisily, “You’re the one who’s been swiping his clothes? You sly fox!”

  “Johnny and yn sitting in a tree-,” Steve cackled, only to get cut off by Dally who smacked him in the chest.

  “What are you man, four?”

  “Four?! I’ll show you four!”

  “Oh glory-,” You mumbled, looking at Johnny, “I think I made a mistake.”

  “You think?” He hissed, his tone was somewhat biting, looking scared stiff for the incoming of terrible teasing.

  "Johnny's got a girlfriend! Johnny's got a girlfriend!" Soda and Two started chanting, patting and shaking their pal with enthusiasm. It wasn't long before the other three started in on it too. The chant of the year belted out from strong chests on shrill wails of hyena laughter.

  "Check him out, famous ladies man! I knew you had it in ya Johnny." Dally clapped his back.

  "Should've known you were stealing my girl, Johnny." Two teased. "You can have her the first five days of the week, but I call dibs on weekends! That's when she gets extra sassy."

  "In your dreams, two shits." You barked.

  "I dream of sixth grade every night!" Two swooned, making you laugh.

  Johnny was as red as a beet, even Ponyboy couldn’t contain his laughter. 'Boy, do we have something to tell Darry!' Pony's and Soda's eyes gleamed dazzlingly.

  "Eh, guess you won't be needing this!" Dally grinned from behind you both, softly tugging on his leather jacket Johnny was wearing. In one fell swoop it was off of his shoulders and draped over Dally’s humble forearm.

  “Here you go, young sire!” Sodapop bowed with a roll of his hand, an English accent flawlessly executed.

   In came Steve on one knee, holding up the humble denim article he'd swiped from Dally's pesky digits. “Oh Johnny, with all of my love for you, will you take this humble offer?” he exclaimed dramatically.

  Johnny snatched the jacket from Steve’s gripey hands, along with the bag of his shirts you’d brought along from Two-bit. He was embarrassed, that was evident. Wished you’d done this at a different time, but hey, duty called; a promise was a promise. Scout’s honour, right?

  Without even thinking he grabbed your hand in his, reeling you away from the madness, all sassy. “Alright, that’s enough now!”

  A chorus of wolf whistles expelled into the air. Wildness evident in the five guys who'd grown up with the both of you. They were just playing of course, excited that Johnny finally had a lady in hand. It wasn't often the raven haired greaser picked someone up, let alone initiated any physical contact – romantically of course. Johnny had always been quite reserved, but here he was taking the initiative, pulling you around in the opposite direction of them. Surprisingly assertive despite him shaking like a goddamn ghost.

  You guys got maybe a few feet away when Dallas called out on the wind, “Hey yn, you better not be takin’ off the clothes on Johnny's body or he’ll be arrested for public indecency!”

  "I said that's enough!" Johnny called back, heat vivid on his cheeks.

  With that you both escaped around the next corner, the gang's calls and laughter fading into the background. Dipped into an alleyway to lose them for good. Glory knew they'd follow you both, and Johnny couldn't bear the thought of that. There was exhilaration in your chests. Johnny's hand was hot and sweaty in yours when you wound onto Pickett and Sutton. The air felt tight and you were afraid you'd just made an inconsolable mess of everything.

  “Honest to God Johnny, that wasn’t planned-,”

  He was sour, scrunching up his face, “Shoulda just let you keep these things.” He said with a smile pulling up the corners of his mouth. “They looked better on you anyway.”

  “Johnny Cade,” you gasped, stopping in the middle of the street, the yellow light from above illuminating you both, “was that you flirting with me?”

  Albeit clumsy, he was endearing. “Maybe, I dunno.” His cheesy grin warmed your heart.

  All you could do was gawk at him.

  “Look, all I know is that I kinda don’t mind you stealing my crap, okay?”

  “So I have special authority to steal? What is this, a secret mission for your girlfriend?” You grasped onto his arm, leaning into him.

  Girlfriend settled in the air in a peculiar fashion. It had never been uttered before, you both had just been friends up until this point. The confusion between you both seemed to fizzle away. The term sounded right. Johnny didn't want to be your friend any more, the guy on the sidelines dreaming of being with you. He swallowed thickly, looking at you.

  "I'm sorry I-," he cut you short.

  "Nah don't be." He shook his head softly.

  "So uh," you breathed a laugh, "that means we're like dating? " You tested the word on your tongue.

  He exploded with a blush, and a sense of pride swelled in your heart. "Y-yeah-," he nodded softly.

  It went quiet, but nothing was awkward about it. Two hearts galloped like wild horses through summer filled fields. You found the courage to speak first, whispering mischievously into his ear, "So what about that secret mission?"

  Johnny rolled his eyes, but breathy humour expelled from his lips, “Operation Shirt Thief!” He said in his best movie man trailer voice.

  You burst out in a fit of giggles, the walk home feeling bountiful and warm.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

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[sweetangel1111]

oh baby!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem! Reader. 

Summary: Reader found some pictures of bucky as a baby and ends up more in love than she already was. 

Before reading: English is not my first language so sorry for the spelling mistakes, Everything that is written here is with the help of the translator.

You was sitting on the couch using her phone when Steve walked in with a box in his arms. 

"Hey, Tony wanted to trash this old stuff, you want to take a look before you throw it all away?"

Steve smiles dropping the box on the table in front of her before giving her a smile and walking away. He nods again and says goodbye, you smile back at him before nodding as well,you put your phone aside and start going through the box, you open it inspecting what was inside before picking up a notebook, its cover had a red color with gold engraved letters almost blurring, You blow a little to disperse the dust and your fingers caress the golden letters and then you open the notebook after several pages looking for something interesting, you smile when you see several pictures among them some babies and what seemed to be Howard Stark with Steve and Bucky. 

With still a smile on your lips, you get up from the couch close the box and walk straight to the room you share with your boyfriend, without waiting for permission you enter the room in search of your beloved. 

"Bucky?"

You sit on the bed as you wait for him to come out of the bathroom, Bucky heard you and quickly came out to see what you needed. 

"Yes, doll?"

He smiles at you before walking over to you, you see him sit down next to you and take your hands.

 "Were you crying?"

he sits down next to you as he takes your hands and looks at your worried face. 

You let out a chuckle as he shakes his head. 

 "There's nothing wrong with me, just.... Look." 

You take the pictures next to you before showing them to him, Bucky smiles before taking the pictures in his hand and kisses your hundred.

"Where did you find them?" 

He raises an eyebrow as he continues to look at the pictures, he thought he had no memory of when he was a baby anymore.

"Steve handed me a box and I found them while going through them."

You shrug sheepishly, bucky laughs and pushes you onto the bed still holding the picture in his hand. 

 "doll, were you crying about that?"

You laugh and then deny as you stroke his hair falling over your face. 

 "No, it's just that you were SO CUTE as a baby!!! And even now, babe!" 

You let out a giggle and push him off turning him around, now you're on top of him taking over. 

 "you're so cute I cry, babe."

You say with a smile, bucky leans over to kiss you sweetly.

"that's not true, you are so cute and cuddly I can cry about it".

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

PS: I wrote it a long time ago, it's the first time i posted this so I'm embarrassed, I still don't know whether to edit it or fix things but this is how it turned out in the end. lol

Everything is here, it is written by me, I don't need anyone to translate it, so all rights reserved, if you see this same writing or similar to this please tag me!! It is my original writing.

Xoxo-shay 😽💋

[angstysebfan]

Just Friends - Part 2

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: What happens in the aftermath of part 1, and will Bucky be able to fix this? Warnings: Angst, talks of manipulation, Bucky is a bit of an asshole, cursing

A/N: Hope you like Part 2 as much as Part 1! None of my stories or edited or beta’d so sorry for any grammar or spelling mistakes. If you want to be a part of my permanent taglist, please request letting me know that you want to be on the permanent one.

Part 1 here

You stay in your room for the rest of the day, not wanting to see or talk to anyone, especially Bucky. You just can’t understand how the hell this all happened. Two days ago, you were taking a nap together in each others arms, and now he doesn’t even want to be friends with you. Your heart is beyond broken, and the love you feel towards him makes you sad. You didn’t just love him as a friend, you were in love with him, and now you feel stupid. You know who is responsible, besides Bucky being a complete moron, Dot. That bitch has it coming to her.

You hear a knock on your door, and a part of you hopes it’s Bucky saying he made a mistake, but when you open the door you see Steve. The smile he was wearing falls when he sees your tear stained face.

“Hey, you okay?” he asks.

You nod, not wanting to talk about it, especially with Bucky’s now one and only best friend. Steve just looks at you, not believing you.

“Okay… well we have a mission, you free to leave tonight?” he asks.

“Yeah, absolutely. What time?” You can’t help the relieved feeling that you will get away.

“Need you ready to go with Nat in an hour” Steve says in his ‘Cap’ voice.

You salute him and close the door, to start prepping your departure. This mission could not come at a better time. You hope that some time away will help Bucky come to his senses, or maybe help you realize that you are better off without him.

–

You've been gone for two weeks and are dead exhausted when you and Nat exit the quinjet back into the compound. It was a brutal mission, and you probably have a few bruised ribs with a of bruises and scratches around your body. But despite it being brutal, it was a success. You and Nat go your separate ways to your rooms, knowing you will be up early tomorrow for a debrief. As you enter the hallway where your room is, you hear moans and groans coming from Bucky’s room. You curse yourself knowing what he's doing and who he's doing it with. You hear Dot’s voice “Harder Bucky, oh god… harder”, which makes you cringe and your stomach churn.

You tried to not think about the blue eyed super soldier over the last two weeks, and while you were busy getting the crap kicked out of you that was easy, but the downtime he was the only thing on your mind. It really pissed you off, but you knew you were hoping you would come home and he would be waiting for you, begging for forgiveness. Guess not. Dot really has her hooks in him, and if they are still together, than you know he did not tell her that he is going to stay friends with you. So it's officially over between you, and that thought is devastating. 

You go to your room and jump in the shower to drown out the noise coming from the room next to you. When you come out, you continue to hear the moaning and know you'll never sleep with that racket. You quickly change into sweats and a t-shirt and decide to head out to the common room to sleep on the couch. It's better than the alternative. You plop on the couch and cover yourself with a blanket, turning on the TV to have some background noise. You are not there more than 2 minutes when Bucky comes out, heading toward the kitchen in nothing but a pair of sweats. You try to shrink yourself so he doesn’t see you, but with the TV on, it was only a matter of time before he turns in your direction. When he does his eyes lock with yours and he slowly walks toward you.

“Hi” he says quietly.

You sit up, “Hi” you say back.

He looks relieved almost, but you think it’s just your exhaustion, you know he doesn’t care that you’re back. The awkward silence is driving you crazy, but he finally breaks it. “Wh-when did you get back?" he asks quietly.

"About an hour ago," you respond.

"What are you doing out here?”

You can’t help but let out a breathless laugh. “Well it's kinda hard to sleep when your neighbor is fucking the lights out of their girlfriend and she's loud as hell.” You spat allowing the anger of seeing him engulf you.

Bucky's shocked by your outburst and then looks guilty, and uncomfortable. “I.. uh sorry,” he says, taking a step toward you.

“Whatever. But don't worry I'll make sure to keep my distance for you both so that I don't make her uncomfortable again,” you say with venom in your voice.

His eyebrows shoot up at that comment. He hates that he forced you to hate him, though he can't blame you. He knows he fucked up, but he doesn't know if at this point he can fix it. He just stares at you with a mix of shock and despair, which makes you annoyed so you roll your eyes.

“Look, I’m tired and achy, so I’m going to sleep out here,” you say as you gently lay down and turn away from him.

All Bucky wants to do is kneel next to you and apologize for making you feel like this. He misses you, but with Dot in his room, he knows he can't. He hates that he put himself, and you, in this position. He just knows Dot is his only shot, so he wants... no needs to make it work with her. He looks at you one more time, sadness evident in his face, and walks back to his room.

–

The next morning you're in the kitchen, sitting between Steve and Sam, when Bucky walks in with Dot. Dot sees you and her smug smirk immediately goes right on her face.

“Baby, make me pancakes?” she says to Bucky in her squeaky baby voice.

You scoff loudly, and look at Sam, whose shaking his head and giving you a look that tells you he doesn’t like her either.

Bucky heard your scoff and looks at you, but your eyes were on Sam. If you want act like this, then he's game. He looked back at Dot and smiles.

“Of course, my Bella,” he says, looking back at you.

Your eyes shot to his when you heard the pet name he called her. That was your pet name, and you know he did that on purpose. You didn't think he would stoop so low, and honestly he didn't either. You can’t help the tears that spring to your eyes, which only makes Bucky regret what he did more. He opens his mouth to immediately apologize, but you quickly get up, ignoring the pain in your ribs, and leave the room.

Steve looks at Bucky in disappointment, and Sam looks like he wants to punch him. Bucky feels like absolute shit and didn't think it was possible to hate himself even more. Dot, however, looks happy as anything and ignores the fact that you left.

"Bucky, pancakes please," he squeaks.

Tony then walks in and informs everyone in the kitchen that there will be a party tomorrow night because he was just in the mood, before leaving and telling the rest of the team. Dot is so excited that her plan is working and she will get to be on display with THE Bucky Barnes in front of all the rich and famous at one of Tony Stark’s parties. Man when she decided to go after Bucky to help her status, she was worried he would see through her, but she found he was very easy to manipulate. I mean she was able to get rid of you in less than a day. It won't be long before she will have status enough to leave Bucky behind and move on to the next big name.

–

You didn’t want to go to the party, but Nat and Wanda made you. Even Steve and Sam told you they would protect you from Bucky and Dot, which is sweet so you agreed. Nat and Wanda helped you get dressed, as your ribs were still sore from the mission, and did your hair and make up. The three of you walk into the party, and head straight to Steve and Sam at the bar.

“Y/N, you look beautiful,” Steve said, causing you to blush.

“Thanks Stevie, you look great too.”

He smiles and hands you your favorite drink. “Listen, I know you and Bucky are having a hard time right now, and I know he is normally your partner at these things, but I thought I could be a good stand in and be your date for tonight. As friends of course,” he said a blush coming over his cheeks.

You smile and kiss him on the cheek, “I would love that Cap.”

You and Steve mostly stay with the group, chatting about this, that, and nothing, but all laughing and having a great time. Meanwhile, on the other side of the room, being dragged from person to person was Bucky. Dot was making sure everyone in the room saw her with him. It really was really annoying him, because felt like a prized horse with Dot. He started to question her motives for being with him He never liked parties parties, only liked to be with… you. You made them bearable. He couldn’t help looking over and notice how beautiful you looked. He saw you and your friends laughing and having a great time, and wanted nothing more but to stand there with you. He felt like he couldn't breath anymore with you gone from his life, and he hated himself for what he did to you.

The truth is, he missed you beyond words. He knew he made a mistake, ending your friendship, and tonight is only showing him more and more what an asshole he was. Question was could he fix it, or was it too late. Dot noticed where Bucky was staring and rolled her eyes seeing you and the rest of the group. She decided to continue to torture you so she took Bucky's hand leading him over to the group. She cleared her throat as she got closer, causing the laughter going on the stop. Everyone looked at her, with her smug face. She wrapped Bucky’s arms around her and held him to her.

“What’s so funny over here? Don’t you know this is a party and you are the Avengers? You should be mingling! Bucky and I have been a hit so far, so you guys should join in the fun!” she said. 

You quickly down your drink and look at Steve. 

“Stevie, want to dance?” you say, completely ignoring Dot. He nodded at you and took your hand, leading you out to the dance floor. Bucky looked between you and Steve and couldn’t help the jealousy he felt. Are you and Steve becoming a thing now? Has he pushed you to the point that you will take Steve away from him? He needs to get a closer look. He bent down to Dot, “Let’s dance,” he whispered, dragging her with him.

Steve held you in his arms as you moved to the slow ballad playing. You look over your shoulder to see Bucky and Dot also dancing close to you, Bucky frequently looking over and you and Steve. You rolled your eyes.

“Ignore them, Y/N.” Steve said quietly.

You blush, and look at Steve. “I’m sorry, I just hate her, and he... ” your words get caught in your throat.

“Yeah, she isn’t well liked by any of us, and I don't know what the hell he''s doing. I'm sure he will come around and regret what he's done to you. I'm pretty sure he has feelings for you, but feels like you wont reciprocate,” he said.

Tears start falling down your face. “I’m sorry Steve, but I think I need some air,” you say quickly.

Steve nodded and let you go, feeling bad that he made you cry. You quickly walk past Bucky and out of the ballroom to the balcony. Bucky watches you and saw that you were emotional. He wanted to follow but knew Dot wouldn't let him. He excused himself and went to talk to Steve about what happened. Dot was not happy and stomped off the dance floor like a child.

Meanwhile, you try and contain your emotions and took deep breaths, looking out over the compound property. You really wish you stuck to your guns and didn’t come tonight. You hated seeing them together, especially her. You wish you knew why he took her side, especially after what Steve just said. Is there a chance he did have similar feelings to you? At this point is it even worth caring, because he broke your heart, and you have no idea if you can trust him again.

“Ya know, for an Avenger, you’re a pretty easy opponent to beat,” you hear Dot’s voice from behind you.

You immediately tense up, but refuse to turn and look at her. She laughs, “I mean I thought you would have put up a little bit more of a fight when I made him dump your pathetic ass, but I guess you are just... too weak,” she taunts.

Now you turned and looked at her, rage pouring through your veins.

“Excuse me?” was all you could say.

Dot continues to walk toward you with her smug smile. “I mean, I saw how much you were in love with him when we first met. I knew I had to get rid of you in order for my plan to work. He spoke of nothing but you for the weeks we were talking to each other, so I knew you were trouble. I thought you would have fought for him, but obviously you know a lost cause when you see one.”

She laughs again, while you are shaking in anger. “What plan did you have exactly?" you ask angrily.

"Oh you know, having Bucky, a infamous Avenger by my side to be seen, go to Tony Stark parties and meet the rich and famous, and when I finally find a richer more impressive man, leave Bucky for him. It's a win win... for me. Bucky was so easy to manipulate too. I made him think he had a chance at forever with me, which no man does without the wad of cash to go with it. But I knew I could get him to do anything for me. I mean when he came to my house that night I met you, all I had to do was I tell him how uncomfortable you made me. How I didn’t like how close you guys were, and he bought it. Hook. Line. Sinker,” She says with a proud smile on her face.

“Now I'm on step two... be at Tony Stark parties with THE Bucky Barnes, rubbing elbows with the rich and famous, making contacts, and setting myself up for success. Meanwhile you get to sulk about the man who didn’t choose you.”

Just as you were about to open your mouth, you hear, “What… the… fuck!”

You and Dot turn your heads to Bucky, who was standing at the door, glaring at Dot. Dot lost her smug smile, and looked panicked. 

“Bucky… h-h-how long were you standing there?” she asks, fear evident in her voice.

Bucky walks up and stands next to you, glaring down at the red head. “Long enough to know you are a manipulative bitch, who's only using me, and coerced me into losing the woman I'm crazy about,” he growls as you gasp at his words.

You see him trying to control his emotions. You wonder if you should calm him down, but decide against it. You slowly step away from them, and start heading toward the door. You turn around to see Bucky still glaring at Dot, but can't handle anymore excitement tonight. You walk back through the ballroom and head straight to the elevators. You make it back to your room, and decide you needed a nice long hot shower to wash this whole evening away and think about what you just heard Bucky say and what it all meant.

As you stand under the hot water you think about the last 2+ weeks. Hearing Bucky's declaration about you, finding out he has a girlfriend, losing him, the mission, coming back to Bucky still being with that bitch, Bucky calling her "my Bella", and then this whole fucked up evening ending with Bucky basically stating he wanted you too. how are you supposed to wrap your head around any of this. After spending probably close to 30 minutes in the shower, you change into sweats and a t-shirt and walk back into your room. You stop short when you see Bucky sitting on your bed, his head in his hands. He looks up at you, tears running down his face. You swallow the lump in your throat, but don’t move.

“I… I’m so fucking sorry, Y/N. I know it’s not enough, because what I did was the worst thing I could do, but I'm really fucking sorry,” He whispers through his tears.

You want to go over and hug him, but you're too hurt, so you just nod. Bucky shakes his head, closing his eyes for a moment. When he opens them again, he stands up and walks toward you. You tense up, but remain where you are.

“Y/N, ending our friendship was the worst thing I've ever done in my life. You're my best girl, and I should've stuck by you, and defended you. I would give you an excuse, not that there really is one, but you probably wouldn’t believe me anyway,” he says.

When you don’t respond, he turns toward the door. As he is about to grab the handle, he hears, “Try me.”

He turns around and looks at you. He turns back toward you and sits back down on the bed. He motions for you to come and sit, which you do, but you make sure there is plenty of space between you. He swallows the lump in his throat. 

“I… uh… I never thought anyone would ever love me. Not even in a friendship way, besides Steve. When you became my friend, I felt so lucky, and I wanted to hold on to that feeling forever. You became the most important person in my life. I… I fell in love with you.”

You can’t help but gape at him. He loves you?! What the fuck! He loves you but then why all this? You go to say something, but he quickly continues.

“I know you couldn't feel the same way, which is why I tried to find someone to take that place. I met Dot, and she was nice and flirty, and made me feel normal. I thought she actually liked me, but apparently I was just a pawn in her scheme to become rich and famous,” He scoffs at himself, shaking his head.

He looks at you again. “She manipulated the shit out of me, which hurts more than I can say, but not as much as seeing the pain you had for these last few weeks. It’s really no excuse, but it's the truth. She told me that she was falling for me, and I was just so blindly happy to find someone else to fill the hole I had. The hole that was really made for you. She told me to do something and I did it because I wanted to keep her happy. I just wish I had snapped out of it when she told me to end my friendship with you."

You stay silent wanting to hear every word.

"When I did, and you ran off, I knew it wasn’t right. I actually went up to your room after my work out to apologize, but you had already left for the mission. I thought maybe it was for the best. Dot and I continued to get closer, which I thought was good, but it was all a lie,” he growled. “When you came home and I saw that you were alive, I was so relieved. I was so worried about you while you were away, but you were so cold to me. I know I deserved it, but I never thought I would see that. So, I got angry and thats why I called her ‘my bella’. I knew that would cause a reaction, but when I saw your face, I immediately regretted it. I never called Dot that name besides that time. Not that it makes it better," he says.

“Tonight, when I saw you laughing with our friends, I wanted to be by your side, with my hand around your waist like all the other parties. I wanted to dance with you, and when I saw you and Steve, I got…. jealous. I… I’m an asshole. I don’t deserve your forgiveness or your friendship. I’m sorry.”

Before you could answer, he left the room, leaving your door open. You sat there for a moment thinking about everything he said. The one thing that stands out is that he loved you, but didn’t realize you loved him too. But you didn’t know if you should just forgive him, when he hurt you so bad.

You suddenly found yourself outside his door. You knocked, listening for his footsteps. When you didn’t hear them, you tried his door, which was unlocked. You peeked your head inside and saw Bucky laying on his stomach, his face in his pillow, quietly crying. Your heart broke, as you quietly entered his room and closed his door. You went to the other side of the bed, and laid next to him, staring at the ceiling. 

“I can’t just forgive you for the pain you caused me, Bucky. You broke my heart more than once in the last few weeks, and I didn’t even understand why. I thought we were stronger than that, but I guess I was wrong.”

You sigh and look at Bucky, who has his face turned towards you, tears streaming down his face. 

“But you were wrong too. I’ve been in love with you for so long, and I thought you didn’t feel the same, but I guess we are both idiots,” you say with a laugh.

You turn your body towards him. 

“I can’t forgive you…” Bucky closes his eyes in pain. “… at least not yet.” You say quietly. Bucky’s eyes shot open and he sits up, staring at you. “Not yet?” he asks, hopefully. You give him a small smile and nod. 

“You have a lot of making up for how you made me feel, Bucky, but I love you. I’m in love with you, and I want to spend the rest of my life in your arms. But… it’s going to take time. A lot of time fore me to trust you again,” you say, as you sit up and look at him.

He moves closer to you. “I will give you as much time as you need, as long as I know there is a chance I can be with you. I love you so much Y/N.”

You put your palm to his cheek. “I love you too.” You say before bringing him in for a small peck on his lips.

Bucky started to deepen the kiss, but you pulled away. 

“I should go,” you say, as you get off the bed and walk to the door. You turn back and look at Bucky, who looks disappointed that you are leaving. “Goodnight,” you say, before leaving the room.

–

Over the next six months Bucky worked his ass off to prove to you he was true and that he loved you. You kept him at arms length for awhile, even though it hurt you both. Then you slowly started to allow him in, but not completely. You would only hang out with him in public settings with other people around, much to Bucky's dismay. After a few months, you both started to slowly go back to being friends, and then best friends again. Neither of you ever wanting to bring up Dot again, who disappeared thank god.

Today, you're sitting in the common room, flipping through possible things to watch on Netflix. “Ugh, there is nothing new that I want to watch!” you yell.

You hear a deep chuckle from the kitchen, before Bucky walks into the common room with a big bowl of popcorn. 

“Just pick something, it doesn’t have to be new, Bells,” he says, as he sits next you and wraps his metal arm around you.

You settle on “Stranger Things”, and snuggle into Bucky. After 2 episodes, you look up and notice Bucky is staring at you.

“What?” you ask.

He smiles at you, “I was just thinking… I don’t know if you would want to, or if you just want to keep things as they are… but… um… w-would you want to go out on a date with me?” he asks.

You sit up and look at him. He looks so adorably nervous, that you can’t help but smile. 

“Absolutely. I think you've been patient with my punishment, and honestly, I've been waiting for you to get the guts to ask me out. But on one condition,” you say.

Bucky nods, “Name it, my Bella.”

You smile, "We continue to go at my pace. No rushing into things just because we know our feelings. I need to know you are willing to continue being patient. And also... we never go to that pizza place again, and you better drive me home after every date," you say with a fake glare.

Bucky laughs, "Belle, you will never have to walk home alone again, and yes I accept going slow. I know I still have a lot to make up for, but I'm glad you are giving me another chance."

"Yeah, I know, but we'll get there eventually," you say with a smile before you both hug.

It took awhile before you let him kiss you again, and even longer before you slept together. Bucky took everything in stride and you both eventually enjoyed a long lasting loving relationship.

--

Some people might not like that we forgave him, but in my head he went through the punishment to deserve the forgiveness. Feedback is appreciated!

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[sanctuary1988]

~ Secret Of Darkness |16| Gwi

French: /the petals of love/

Pairing: Gwi x fem! noble! Reader

Summary: A heartless vampire falls in love for the first time in centuries of loneliness. Passion, secrets, betrayal and love drown the royal palace. Will your love for Gwi prevail through time or will it wither away like a fallen rose petal? Maybe love was his punishment, maybe love was your salvation. Or wasn't it a curse to you both? Because, who can beat a race against time? Who can love in the dark? Who can love without truth? After all, even the most beautiful flower will wither away and end in ashes of time, remembered only by the one who cherished her the most.

Warnings: fluff, angst, romance!, mentions of sex, love, confession, kissing, battling of emotions, TENSION!, flower is described to be shorter than Gwi, historical! AU, royal! AU?, cannon copilant (let me know if I missed anything!)

Word Count: 3.4k words

A/N: Hello everyone! I know it has taken me some time to update (sorry about that) but I'll let you know why in another post later but like GUYS, I was so excited to publish this chapter I barely edited O.O Please excuse any grammar mistake, I'll fix it all tomorrow. Promise! ALSO, we are already +60k words 😲 so thank you all so much for all the support, love and enthusiasm this story has received, really thank you. I hope you like this chapter and again, thank you so much!

Enjoy, darlings❤️❤️❤️

Tagging: @my-day6 | @yumisventingmachine | @yukihatesreoyo | @anonymous2828 | @solivagant444 | @emneedshelp |🙈❤️*let me know if you liked to be tagged or if you want me to get you off my taglist!

Please let me know your thoughts in the comments! I'd love to hear from you, loves. Enjoy! 🫶🫶🫶

The room was filled with the flickering, dying candles from the day before. The soft petals from the cherry blossom continued to fall on their endless crusade as you slept soundly next to Gwi. Nestled under the covers as your head rested on top of his bare chest. The warmth of his skin against yours kept you under a spell of dreamless rest. One of his hands rested behind his head while the other caressed your back in soothing motions, marvelling at the softness of your skin under his fingertips. Those large hands that had brought death to so many people over decades now held you with tenderness under the covers of your bed. 

The long hours of the night stretched on and even as he didn’t sleep, he kept every second of every minute completely mesmerised by your existence next to him. 

With a deep softness in his eyes he watched you sleep, taking in the details that marred your beauty. The way your lashes brushed over your skin, how your hair framed your face, the soft parting of your lips that he wished to kiss again. And the way your hand curled against his chest as if you were reaching for him even in your sleep. 

It was an image, a dream he could have lived in forever. A painting of perfection that softened the edges of his dark existence. 

Gwi shifted slightly, careful not to wake you as his hand moved to brush a stray cherry blossom petal that had landed on your shoulder. His fingers lingered there for a moment, tracing the line of your collarbone, savouring the intimacy of holding you so close it nearly hurt his frozen heart. You stirred but did not wake. A soft sigh escaped your lips as you snuggled closer to him in your sleep, seeking the warmth of his body as he held you closely. 

The sight stirred something deep inside him, something that had long been dormant. The way you trusted him so completely, so utterly, unaware of the danger you lay beside. You didn’t know what he was—what he truly was—and he intended to keep it that way.

His hand moved to your hair, his fingers tangling the silky (h/c) stands as he whispered words that were not meant for you to hear. Said only for the shadows to witness among his aching heart. 

“If only you knew… just how precious you are to me, petal.” 

The weight of his words hung heavy in the stillness of the room. There was a possessiveness in his voice, but also a tenderness that he hadn’t felt in what seemed like a lifetime. You had changed something in him, stirred feelings he thought he had long since buried.

But with those feelings came a fierce protectiveness—a desire to shield you from everything, including the truth. You saw him as your protector, your lover, and that was all he wanted to be for you. You didn’t need to know about the darkness that coursed through his veins, the centuries of bloodshed and loneliness that had shaped him into what he was now.

You didn’t need to know that the man sleeping beside you, the man who held you oh so tenderly, the man who whispered sweet promises of eternal love; was not a man at all. 

Gwi’s hand stilled in your head as he leaned down and pressed a delicate kiss on the top of your head. The scent of you, the sweet blood that coursed through your veins, the rose scent that clung to your body like a shadow, the delectable aroma of the cherry blossom and the perfume of your skin was intoxicating to him in a way that made his fangs hurt in a way he had to fight to suppress. His eyes threatened to taint crimson with his desires and his pulse accelerated. 

But then, you stirred again, taking in a deep breath as your eyes fluttered open. You woke up slowly, feeling loved and warmth as a content hum escaped the back of your throat the moment you realised—you remembered—where you were. Who you were with. 

“Morning…”

It came out as a whisper, your voice still thick with the remnants of sleep as you shifted and looked up at Gwi. 

“Morning, my flower.”

His voice was low and smooth, the way it always was when he spoke to you. There was a moment of silence as you simply stared at each other in a soft waltz of spring love. Your fingers traced soft patterns over his chest as you basked in the warmth that surrounded you and the soft light of the flickering candles. 

“How long have you been awake?”

You asked, yawning cutely as you pressed yourself closer to him; if that was even possible. Gwi chuckled, a rare yet delicious deep sound that rumbled through his chest as his eyes never left yours. 

“A while.”

“You should have woken me up.”

One of his large hands came up, gently cradling your cheek in his large palm while his thumb ran over the smooth skin of your face. 

“I didn’t want to”

His fingers brushed a strand of hair, tucking it behind your ear. 

“I wanted to let you rest, my sweet flower. You looked peaceful. It looks like I tired you too much last night.”

A deep blush tainted your cheeks at the mention of last night. You broke eye contact and he smirked lovingly down at your sudden shyness. You remembered his soft promises of love, his passionate touches and his kisses of fire. The way he had made you reach such euphoric sensations over and over again until you fell asleep in his arms. Gwi had awakened something primal within you, but it was something that had always been his to claim. Your pleasure was his to own and possess, and there was no-one else in the world you’d have given yourself to as you did to him last night. 

You smiled, feeling the love in his teasing words, though you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more behind his gaze. Something hidden in the depths of his eyes that he wasn’t telling you. But you dismissed the thought, choosing instead to sink back into the moment, the comfort of his touch and the sound of his heartbeat beneath your ear.

“I could stay like this forever.”

He hummed softly at your murmured words after a beat of silence passed between you both. And yet his peace was shattered by your words. Forever was a powerful word. His eyes darkened as he looked down at your peaceful features relaxed next to him. And it became pretty obvious that that was the exact thing he couldn't give you. Forever. But the truth was like a shadow over a beautiful spring afternoon, obscuring the sun and shattering what little hope of happiness he had. 

For him, forever was real. But for you, the idea was far more fragile than what he could elaborate. 

Still, his arms tightened around you, wishing too that this single moment could stretch on to eternity. Gwi had to anchor his racing and anxious mind with the feel of your body against his as if he could keep you with him by sheer will alone despite the cruel inevitability of time. 

“You will always be mine, flower.”

His voice was soft, words whispered to the wind that was more of a promise to him than to you. And as the cherry blossoms continued their gentle descent, Gwi vowed once again to protect you from everything—even the truth—if it meant keeping you by his side.

You stood in your room, putting on a beautiful hanbok where the top was a delicate shade of coral pink, hugged your figure just enough to showcase its simplicity and grace. A ribbon tied neatly at the waist held the fabric in place, its pristine white accents framing the cuffs and collar, providing a gentle contrast to the vibrant top.

While the skirt flowed like a whisper around your legs, its soft beige fabric textured and light, catching the air with every movement you made. The skirt, full and graceful, seemed to glide along the ground, its layers revealing just the faintest hint of lace beneath, intricate and refined. The combination of textures, from the smooth silk of the jeogori to the gentle folds of the chima, gave you an ethereal quality, as though you were a vision from a forgotten era.

Gwi watched you with tender eyes as he lay on your bedding, his outer robe opened and displaying his honey skin beneath the fabric as he leaned on his elbow and watched you with a mixture of admiration and desire.

His keen eyes watched as you applied some rose powder on your cheeks, highlighting your cheeks. A cherry red paper was caught between your lips as you bit it softly to add colour to your kissable lips. 

“How are you so beautiful?”

His dark murmur made you freeze in your spot, your eyes flickered to him through the mirror as you smiled softly, adding more beauty to your already ethereal features the vampire was so enamoured with. 

“How are you so handsome?”

The vampire lord chuckled, the sound a deep and smooth, like a rumble from a fading thunder storm during summer. His dark eyes gleamed with a deep intensity, making you feel as if he could see right through the layers of soft fabric and straight into your very soul. 

“You flatter me,”

You gulped at the sound of his voice as it sent a shiver down your spine. Your eyes locked with his through the mirror.

“But no matter how handsome you think I am, it pales in comparison to the way you captivate me, petal. I could watch you for a thousand years and never tire of the sight.”

You turned from the mirror, your cheeks warming at his words, though you tried to play it off with a teasing smile.

“A thousand years? You do say the most impossible thing, Lord of my heart.”

His gaze darkened for a moment. A split second as he took in your shy words. He pushed himself up fully, standing in a slow, graceful movement that had you mesmerised. His robe slipped further open, exposing more of his toned chest, but it was his eyes that held you, deep and unwavering.

“And yet, here you are. Defying the impossible everytime I look at you.”

Gwi murmured as he stood behind you in just a few quick steps. One of his hands rested on your shoulder, his skin touching the fabric that covered your body from his eyes, his touch light but filled with reverence. 

Your eyes met his through the mirror once more, feeling the intensity in his gaze, the many things that were left unspoken between you both. For they existed in a language neither of you spoke but could only feel. His words, the way he looked at you—had a powerful weight to it. Something more than just the affection between lovers and tangled souls. Something deeper. Something darker. 

It was as if he spoke of things far beyond your understanding, of promises you hadn’t yet made but that he already felt.

His long, pale fingers found the delicate strands of your hair as it fell over your back, reaching near your hip as you looked at how mesmerised he was at simply touching you in such an innocent way. 

The candles flickered ominously as you observed the subtle line of concentration as he began playing with your hair. Running his fingers through the strands before he began twisting it and braiding it with a tenderness that belied the anger he had felt when he had taken you out of the burning mansion that once belonged to your father but was now left in crumbled ruins. 

His long fingers, usually so strong and decisive, now worked with surprising gentleness as he gathered strands of your hair and wove them together with a focus that made your heart flutter.

“I’m not doing it right, am I?”

He muttered, his tone uncharacteristically unsure. He paused in his braiding to look at his handiwork, a few strands slipping loose despite his careful efforts. You turned your head slightly, peeking at the mess he had made in the mirror, a soft laugh escaping your lips. 

“It’s perfect.”

You smiled up at him as you said it but Gwi huffed, not at all convinced yet your smile and the way you had laughed at the silly moment softened his frustration. He leaned forward, resting his chin on the top of your head as he looked at you through the mirror. 

“You are a terrible liar.”

A soft giggle escaped your lips and he adored the sound, loving the way your eyes squeezed at the action of laughing or how your nose scrunched ever so softly. 

“Perhaps, but it’s still sweet that you tried.”

Your hand held the slightly uneven braid before you stepped forward and reached over the small table next to the mirror for your red rose hairpin, the one he had given you what seemed like moons ago. 

Gwi watched as you rolled up the braid before you secured it with the hairpin, a few strands framed your face as you looked at your reflection and he was sure you were a portrait from an ancient dream of his. There was no way you were so beautiful, so enchanting before his eyes. You had a light within yourself. A light that reached even his dark world he had been drowning in for centuries. 

A sudden melancholy flashed through his eyes as he remembered the secret he held from you. The nature of his existence and how he could never tell you but knowing that, eventually, you are going to be aware of the monster that he is. And even if he could stop the sun from showing up everyday, there was no way he’d be able to hide it forever. 

His gaze lingered on your reflection a little too long, that unspoken weight you often saw hidden behind his affection glinting in his dark eyes. You turned around, your smile faltering a bit as you looked up at Gwi. 

“What is it?”

Gwi’s eyes shifted, the darkness in them deepening for a moment before he forced a smile that didn’t quite reach them. He straightened, pulling away slightly, his hands slipping from your shoulders to rest at his sides. His lips parted as if he wanted to answer, but no sound came. His silence filled the room, stretching between you like an invisible barrier.

You stepped closer, your fingers brushing the fabric of his robe, and the touch seemed to pull him back from whatever shadowed thoughts held him. His hand came up to cup your cheek, his thumb stroking your skin with the same tenderness he had shown while braiding your hair. But now, there was something else in his gaze—something heavy, something unrelenting. A weight he carried alone, and you could feel it, even if you didn’t understand it. Or he didn’t let you understand. 

“Nothing.”

He had said. His voice was soft but tinged with shadows you weren’t able to chase away with your worrying gaze and deep love. It sounded strained, rehearsed even. 

“It’s nothing, my flower.”

But you knew he spoke lies with that deep voice of his you loved so much. There was a sadness within him, a grief he wore like an armour. A melancholy he had never let you touch, never let you truly see. But in moments like this, it slipped. His control, his composure, his walls of ice cracked beneath the pressure of your love and you began seeing, if only a glimpse of the dark secrets he carried within the heart you now treasured as your own life. 

“Don’t lie to me, love. I can see it in your eyes. There's something you are not telling me.”

His jaw clenched, and for a brief moment, you thought he might tell you the truth—whatever it was that lingered in the dark corners of his soul. But instead, he sighed, his hand falling from your face as he stepped back, putting distance between you that felt far more significant than just the space in the room.

“I’m not lying. There are simply things that I cannot explain.”

You stared up at him, his words sounded harsher than before. Cold. Detached. And you hated it how he pulled you so close you were suffocating within his existence or he pushed you away as if you were nothing but a burden in his complicated life. 

And yet, you couldn’t deny the pain his words carried. A pain that cuts through you like a knife. You wanted to reach out, to hold him and listen to whatever burdened his soul but you knew Gwi. you had known him for years now. He was a complicated man. A man of secrets. A man who carried knowledge and conscience that seemed from forgotten times. And you felt that no matter how close you were, how tenderly he held you nor how fiercely he protected you; there would always be parts of him that he’d keep in the shadows of his mind. 

“Don’t look at me like that.”

He asked. He nearly pleaded. But his sentence only caused you to blink. 

“Like what?”

“Like I’m breaking your heart.”

His voice dropped, barely above a whisper and your heart clenched at the sight of him. Gwi's eyes, which once held you captive with their intensity, now seemed lost, distant, as though he stood on the edge of something he couldn’t face. His vulnerability, something he guarded so fiercely, cracked open for just a moment. A single second before his gaze hardened again. He took a deep breath and straightened up, running a hand through his dark locks. 

“I will not ask you to tell me something you don’t want. I have always respected you and I will always love you. Just know that I am here for you. If you ever feel you want to tell me something, love, I promise I’ll listen.”

Gwi smirked down at you. A smirk that was meant to tease you, to make you laugh as well. But you saw the devastation in his eyes at the simple action that tried to mask his burdening grief. 

“I know you will, petal.”

He leaned down toward you, his lips pressed a soft kiss on your forehead and you closed your eyes. Your hands itching to pull him closer, to allow him to feel the warmth of your love but he retreated too soon. As Gwi pulled away, the cold air of his absence wrapped around you like a shroud, and the gentle warmth of his kiss on your forehead faded too quickly. You opened your eyes, catching a glimpse of him retreating, the distance he created growing heavier with each step. You could feel it—the space between you becoming a chasm too vast to bridge, filled with the weight of the secrets he kept buried in his heart.

For a moment, you just stood there, staring at his broad back as he turned to face the imposing cherry blossom tree, the soft candlelight illuminating the sharp angles of his face. He was lost in his own world again, the one he wouldn’t let you touch. And even though you understood that Gwi was a man of mystery, a man tied to a past he seemed to run away from, it didn’t make the ache in your chest any less painful.

You stepped forward, standing next to him as your hand slipped into his bigger one. The touch warm against his cool skin as you stared at the tree of the pink petals as well. 

“I don’t need to know everything. I don’t care about your past. I don’t care what you have done or what you think you deserve. What matters is who you are now. Who you are with me.”

He turned to look down at you, the strength in his eyes staring at you that it nearly took your breath away. His hands squeezed yours. Knowing you spoke from a heart that was no longer yours. But despite all the love that now poured over him like a waterfall, he knew nothing would ever be the same if you were to know he was a vampire. 

“I will always be your protector. Your lover. The Lord of your heart. Forevermore.”

You smiled, leaning your head against his shoulder as you took in his presence, his strength, his secrets and his treasures. His shadows and his stars. 

“That’s all I need.”

September/13/2024

A/N: Want to be tagged? Let me know in the comments!

Thoughts? O.O

My inbox is open, darlings! Or feel free to leave a comment! I'd love to hear your thoughts and inputs for the story! Take care, everyone 🫶

~ Masterpost

[echobx]

broken heart (2) - a JJ Maybank blurb

summary: JJ gets confronted by his friends

warnings: swearing(?)

word count: 509

author's note: @immyowndefender asked for a pt2 and I honestly still don't know where this is going, but I'm happy to find out. still not really edited, only spell checked.

masterlist part 1

“Where's y/n?” John B asked and JJ just shrugged.

“I don't know. We stopped talking after last time.”

It could be described like a shockwave that went through the group of friends. Y/n and JJ not talking to each other was unheard of. It never happened. Not once in all the years the seven of them had been friends.

“What do you mean you do talk anymore?” Kiara asked tentatively.

“We had a fight and now she doesn't wanna talk to me, that's it,” JJ rolled his eyes, uncertain why they were all so weird about it.

“What’you do?” John B was stern as he posed the question, more precisely, he demanded to know it because he knew his best friend too well.

“It’s not my fault she's so stuck up about it,” JJ muttered, not wanting to actually repeat the words he had thrown at you in a fit of rage.

“Stuck up about what, JJ?” Kie urged and he started to fidget with his lighter. For some reason he was fully aware of the fact that they wouldn't be on his side with this one, and he didn't want to see it actually happen. To see their heads turn and be against him, because that's how everyone always acted towards him. Everyone but them. And you.

But he had already fucked it up with you and he thought no matter what he would say, it wouldn't help. Drafting text after text at night when he couldn't find sleep and deleting all of them again.

He had never been good at owning up to his mistakes in an adult way, to say sorry and mean it, and not just to get someone to stop annoying him over it.

“JJ?” Pope's eyebrows were lifted to the sky as he stared his friend down. With a small scrunch of his nose, JJ sat up in his seat but his eyes were still fixed downward on the lighter in his hands.

“Told her to quit fussin’ and all, ‘cause she got no reason to. Is not like we're together or anything,” he mumbled and his heart squeezed a little at the confession.

“God, you're dumb,” Sarah exhaled a quick laugh before slapping her hand in front of her mouth as if she hadn't meant to say it at all.

“No, he is,” Pope shook his head. “Every guy she was ever interested in, you threatened them and then she stopped to look for anyone else because clearly there has to be a reason for it. And then you say shit like that to her?”

“None of them were good enough,” JJ replied subdued, his heart pounding heavily as he tried to piece it all together but it still didn't quite make sense to him.

“Just go an’ apologize to her, man,” Cleo sighed.

“And say what?” JJ snapped, a little harsher than he had intended to, but they didn't care about it much.

“The truth,” John B told him, slapping JJ’s shoulder and pulling him up to stand. “Go!”

please don't copy and/or post my work onto other platforms! ~e©ho

part 3

taglist: @ijustwantttoread

[chilicheesecreampuff]

⚠️⚠️⚠️Quick PSA for every single Fandom on this website⚠️⚠️⚠️

Fandoms are NOT political parties. Fandom is where people go to escape all the real life bullshit. Don't include or exclude people from Fandom just cause they vote different from you. You're just being a bigot if you are. Yes, people can disagree, but saying shit like "You can't be here or like this person cause you have different life experiences than me, and those experiences caused you to have a different view than me, but I'm too fragile to recognize that, so I'm gonna bully you into leaving" is so FUCKING CHILDISH. We are all adults here (or should be. Kids, go back to dancing to TikTok or whatever the youth is doing now), act like it. Just because you can hide behind a screen doesn't mean you can be a lowlife worthless piece of garbage. Inclusive mean EVERYBODY is Including, even the people you don't like. I don't like spiders, but I don't follow them and comment on their page about how "braindead" and "worthless" they are for not agreeing about how creepy they are (Pretend spiders have a Tumblr page for me, it goes with the point I'm making).

It costs nothing to be nice, and if you're going through someone's blog and trying to find something you can bully them on, I hope you find some light in your utterly dark and cold life. Must be hard being so hateful to seek out things to comment on.

Sorry for the rant, but I'm seriously tired of seeing people say shit like "your shirt says Kamala 2024/Trump 2024, so your obviously a (insert meaningless insult here), and you need to go hang yourself, and these characters would never associate with you blah blah blah". You don't own them. They belong to everyone. Even the people you don't like.

Thank you.

Edit: Yes, I made a LOT of Grammer mistakes, but I'm too tired to fix them and I'm Dyslexic. Just be glad I spelled "PSA" right.

Edit 2: I'm not saying you can't post political things, it's your blog, do what you want. Just don't bring it into Fandom related things.

[sleepykye]

Becareful next time, idiot..!

Featuring : Muichiro, shinobu, tangiro, rui

The ship : muichiro x reader

You were fighting lower moon 5, together with tangiro . The both of you were struggling while waiting for backup to arrive. Your katana was broken, along with tangiro's one aswell. But he had still somehow managed to cut the string with a broken katana, you envied him. He had almost cut off the demon's head too. It was a pity that rui was smart enough and used his own string to cut it off before he did.

You were ashamed, really, just because of muichiro talking down on you during training, you ran away in the midst of it. He is probably going to fire you when you finally get the fight over with. Or your just going to die here without ever seeing him and apolosing to him for running off like that. And you were unlucky enough to run off to a mountain which lurks uppermoon 5 and other demons.

Your injuries were not as bad as Tangiro's but still, your strength and skills weren't as close as to tangiro's skills. But no way were you giving up, you wanted to prove to muichiro that your skills were good.

The both of you was on the verge of death, trapped in a cage of strings that was shrinking very fast. Your life flashed before your eyes as you laid on the ground, helplessly. But at the very last second, Muichiro came and slashed the cage of strings containing both you and tangiro. " you dare to hurt my tsugko, you trash ? " muichiro spoke angrily, if you weren't half conscious right now, you could tell that his brows were furrowed and it looked like his veins were about to pop on his hand from wielding his sword with too much strength.

" And did I just hear you insult her ? Nobody else can insult her but me " he said ferociously before cutting off the demon's head single handedly. He even chopped the remaining body and the head to small pieces, almost like stripped fish sticks.

Tangiro was unconscious and didn't see what happened thankfully, or else he will make a fuss about it. 《 Cuz hes kind ykyk 》

Muichiro didn't even wait a second before picking you up and didn't even bother to wait for the kakushi to come and treat you, nor even help to eliminate the remaining demons. He carried you bridal style and rushed to the butterfly mansion to treat you.

Shinobu, upon seeing this, told him off saying that he doesn't even try to pretend he cares about others and that he's biased towards you. Muichiro just waved her off saying that she can handle it since she's a doctor and continued to rush to the butterfly mansion.

You were already losing conscious along the journey before you heard him say " stay with me, please ! Your the only thing I have left. Don't leave me too...." before moving at a faster pace. Dam were you surprised, hearing that from him was rare. Especially since all he threw at you were insults one after another. But you lost consciousness before he could say another word.

And when you woke up again, you could see muichiro beside your bed. When he saw that your eyes opened, he sighed and was thankful you were alive. You tried to mutter a " I'm sorry" but before you could, you got flicked in the head before you heard him say " becareful next time, idiot..! " with tears in his eyes.

He even said " I'll be less harsh towards you in training. Please don't take the insults I said to heart. " while averting your gaze. His cheeks also had a slight tint of red. You were thankful as it looked like your friendship with your master has leveled up.

Poor tangiro though...he freaked out when he saw that you weren't with him anymore when he came back to conscious and was worried sick wondering if you got eaten by the demon.

Okay, I realised I made some grammar and spelling mistakes on accident ! I'll edit it and fix it if I find any 😣