#i’m not tagging this basement yard.

[anhonest-puck]

frankie and joey from the basement yard podcast remind me of charlie and neil

[thetriggeredhappy]

hey pally, write the thing

ALRIGHT I’LL QUEUE IT AGAIN I HAVE TO FIX A BASEMENT FIRST

[whumpy-wyrms]

basement is flooding 💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥 :(((

[katyawriteswhump]

(vampire) nesting season—steddie microfic, steddie holiday drabble.

WC: 388. CW: none. Rating: M. Tags: vampire eddie, vampire au, established steddie, angst, fluff, non-explicit bloodsucking, dark undertones.

For @steddieholidaydrabbles spring pop-up event, and @steddiemicrofic March prompt, ‘pin.’ Also for @sidekick-hero and littleskit on Ao3, who kindly requested more vampire eddie/human steve fic… Sorry, I haven't had time to get a longer fic going this month. In the meantime, hope you enjoy this companion piece to A deep and dreamless love (also on Ao3)😉 This fic can also be read standalone without reading the companion fic.

....

The gigantine crash from the backyard awoke Eddie. It was dark, he’d overslept. Was Steve in danger?

Eddie rushed to the yard—his cold dead vampire heart thudding—and stopped by their storm-shelter’s opened trapdoor. Beneath, bricks and debris buried the ladder: “Steve?” 

“Who else, genius?” Steve sounded muffled.

“Thought you were spring-cleaning?”

“I am! Use your vampire super-strength to shift this fallen crap NOW.” Steve coughed, doubtless on the dust. As Eddie cleared the fallen-in roof from the ladder, a sumptuous scent hit. Blood! He prayed Steve wasn’t pinned down, hurting, bleeding badly…

After shifting the final rubble, Eddie sighed with relief. Steve looked okay, mildly dirty, his hair decorously wrecked. Black fabric swathed the walls, at which Steve now pointed:

“Stabbed myself pinning up silk.” He sucked his finger. “No major bleeding—don’t freak out.”

“You could've been killed.” Eddie tentatively looped his arms around Steve, grateful for the usual precautionary scarf covering Steve’s delicious throat. “Sure you’re okay?”

Steve glared: “Do I look hurt, idiot.”

“You look…” Edible. “Adorable.”

“Dumbass crumbly basement. Ruined my surprise present.”

“Uuuuuh, whose present? And why the slinky-yet-hazardous subterranean boudoir?”

“Christ, you’re slow tonight.” Steve threw himself onto a sea of black cushions, tugging Eddie with him. “Longer spring days equal less nighttime with you. I built you an underground vampire nest, so we can…”

He pulled Eddie into a messy kiss, knees hitching round Eddie’s hips, forcing Eddie closer yet. Eddie kissed back—groaning, rutting, basking in Steve’s pulsing heat. His soul yearned only for Steve. His body hankered to drain Steve’s veins dry.

Shiiiiit, I need breakfast.

Eddie tore himself free. Steve laughed, dabbing wet lips, luxuriating on the cushions. A squirming mouse ready to be pinned by a cat? Steve’s fingers lovingly threaded Eddie’s hair, thumb caressing Eddie’s cheek. “You like?”

“Love it, Babe, but…” 

Eddie grimaced. Temptation burned. Steve simply ripped away his scarf, revealing Eddie’s many previous bite-marks on his neck. These never healed, because: “You’re peckish, huh?”

“Holy shit, Stevie. If I can’t stop drinking, you’re totally trapped here.” The truth tolled like a death knell: This is no nest. You’ve built a goddamn tomb! “Unlike you, I’m noooo hero.”

Steve rolled his way-too-trusting eyes, and pressed Eddie’s face into the scrumptiously thrumming curve of his throat. “Jesus, bite me already.”

Eddie’s fangs erupted and pierced Steve deep.

[miraakulous-cloud-district]

It is Wednesday, my dudes

Lots of thanks to @sheirukitriesfandom for tagging me in a wip whenever. I finally, actually have something to share! And on a wednesday! And I get the chance to see what everyone else has been writing! It's a good day, indeed <3 The following excerpt is from chapter 16 of WYGTYA and I must say, I'm pretty proud of this one, really. Have some Miraak lore!

I'm going to tag @bougainvillea-and-saltwater @mareenavee @dirty-bosmer @nerevar-quote-and-star @blossom-adventures @kiir-do-faal-rahhe of course, only if you want to, and tagging anyone else who wants to participate and share!

It’s a strange sight, indeed: his old suit. He hasn’t seen, nor touched it since he came back from Apocrypha, and right now, he wants nothing more than to burn it. When Ravonna guided him to the basement - basically a small storage room - and he saw that suit again, he almost didn’t recognize it, and it made him sick to his stomach either way.

“It didn’t always look like that, you know?” Fenrik says, trying to defend it for some reason or other. This suit has been with him through his hardest of times, after all, and much like his spirit, it didn't break. Not yet. 

“I suppose it’s the Apocrypha corruption. You know, you looked almost like a lurker with the suit and with your mask.” 

“Did I? I guess my mask was corrupted as well.”

“Yeah, it had all these tentacles coming out of the mouth area. ‘Twas gross and ugly.” Ravonna shudders. “No offence.”

“None taken.” He says, raising his eyebrows but still holding that thousand yard stare at the robes in the chest.

“For what’s worth, I don’t think you look like a lurker anymore.” Ravonna shifts uncomfortably on her feet.

“Thank you.” he feels a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. It’s hard, seeing hervdeliver all her lines in such a cold manner. She’s been… absent, yet still there. So unmistakingly, genuinely there, right beside him.

“What did it look like? Before, I mean.”

“It was just a brass mask with no expression. Plain as a cloudless sky. That was its purpose, too. To numb any and all emotion in me. I was too emotional, they said.” He winces at the memories that come flooding in.

“Oh… I’m sorry. Didn't mean to bring back all those memories.”

“You have nothing to apologise about. It was you who actually took it off, remember?”

The sound she makes is somewhere between a snort and a huff. “More like shouted it off. You made me so angry that I let out my most strongest shout yet.”

“Glad to be… of service? I guess.”

“I was properly shocked when you turned and looked back at me, that’s for sure.”

“Why?” He asks, genuinely not understanding. He’s a person, just like her. Whatever else did she expect?

‘Because of your beauty, because of your humanity, your desperation, your sadness, your fucking soft, brown eyes’ She wants to say, but refrains herself. Instead, she says: “Because you looked so intimidating with the mask on. Without it, you were so… normal. Approachable, even, were the circumstances different and my memory completely wiped.”

[cookinguptales]

wwdits tarot: the world

Finally, the last of the Major Arcana, XXI. The World. I will be doing one more post on the Minor Arcana tomorrow, and then posting it all to the tag for people to read at their leisure.

(And then we’ll have a tarot weekend on my blog to celebrate.)

I do think, overall, this project came out to about 15k-20k words of meta, so… I do appreciate the people who’ve stuck with me all this time, and the people who will be catching up now that I’m about done. I know that these weren’t as popular as my usual meta posts, but I had a lot of fun writing them!

Thanks for indulging me. 💜

So we’re finally at The World. I actually struggled more with this card than any other, mostly because I actually had a fairly strong idea of what I wanted as soon as I thought about it, but I kept wrestling with why I wanted it.

I think I get it now.

The World is a card about wholeness, totality, and the end. The Major Arcana is often read as a journey, and The World is where that journey ends. It may not be the end forever, but it is the culmination of a cycle that has finally finished. So the end of a chapter, perhaps, if not the whole book.

There’s a sense of fulfillment to this card, like whatever you set out to do, you’ve done it. There’s a finality to it, too, like you’re looking back on what you’ve accomplished with satisfaction.

It’s also a card about the literal world that we live in. There’s a sense of unity and interconnectedness to this card, like through it you can access a connection to all other things. It also tends to have implications of literal travel, like journeying all across the world.

The World is about wholeness and completion and feeling at one with all things. It’s about reaching out and touching the world around you.

And I haven’t chosen a character at all, but instead a thing that connects them. It is, in a sense, quite genuinely their world.

What I’ve chosen to symbolize The World is in fact ancestral soil. Grave dirt, if you will.

In a very literal sense, obviously, we’re talking about earth. But we’re also talking about both freedom and restraint. Ancestral soil is a physical limiter on them, but also the thing that gives them full access to their powers and the ability to move around — if they’re clever about it.

Moreover, it is a thing that they all share. All of our (traditional) vampires have their own ancestral soil, and Guillermo is the one who collected it. (Colin… is more complicated, and I’ll get into that soon.)

Soil is one of those things that just keeps coming up again and again and again and again in this series, whether it’s Guillermo burying them or Colin being buried. It’s Nandor carrying soil around in his Jansport but also all of them searching for assorted corpses in their front yard.

There’s a sense of soil as foundation that seems to resonate through this series, and it affects them all. And every time I see Guillermo dig a hole in their yard, I look at that pile of dirt and wonder if he’s gonna have to keep it in a bag one day.

The soil that they all live on has become his ancestral soil. And he has fertilized it well.

Colin Robinson, the only one of them who has no interest in ancestral soil, and the reason why they all lost their original bags, still seems to have an intrinsic connection with the land they live on. He’s buried in it, obviously, both his clones and his decaying body, which presumably is still somewhere either in the basement or the yard.

He has an odd physical attachment to the house they live in, too, as evidenced by his need to burrow into those walls even before he died.

They all have soil of a kind, and they all have territory. And I’m obsessed with the idea of them mixing their soil.

I’d say that soil seems to represent both an end and a beginning for them all. I mean, it’s graveyard dirt. Originally speaking, vampires’ soil was supposed to be taken from their graves. WWDITS is obviously a little more lenient, especially because many of their vampires were never buried, but there’s still a sense of that finality in the soil they do have. There’s still a sense that the soil they have to carry around is a symbol both of their death and their rebirth.

And then for Guillermo and Colin, again, we’ve got this idea that they live in those holes, they die in those holes, and they too have both experienced a kind of rebirth. Guillermo has been reborn as a slayer, and Colin has been quite literally reborn from his own hollow shell.

So it makes sense to me, I think, that soil in this deck would represent an end to all things, a grave, but also a beginning. There’s a sense that no grave remains entirely unstirred in this show, and what is usually a symbol of finality becomes a symbol of liberation and ascension. Soil restrains them but empowers them as well. It is what connects vampire and human and slayer.

We all have dust beneath our feet.

Now, onto the last card.

More than any other card, my The World will be a radical departure from its RSW counterpart. The RSW image is that of a dancing woman surrounded by an endless wreath. It is the beginning and end of all things, and the violet symbolizes success and the red ribbons eternity. There are four creatures in the corners, and they are the same ones found in The Wheel of Fortune. They symbolize the four elements that make up everything and are a symbol in this case for pure unity and harmony.

The only thing I’m keeping here, I think, is the sense of fours.

What I actually want for my The World is a scene from the house. Or rather its yard. I want a freshly dug grave, a mound of upturned dirt next to it. Three sacks of earth sit in front of it, heaped on top of one another. And next to them all, one lies empty, waiting to be filled.

In the background, foreboding and familiar both, is their home. It is where they all live and over the centuries it has become their World, all five of them.

And slowly, they are finding completion.

wwdits tarot masterpost

[missbabyjay]

Thanks to the sweetness herself, @ssuperficialspacecadett for tagging me

Get to know me 🥰

Last song - lonely day by system of a down

- No band will ever top SOAD for me. Korn is a close second. Yes, I’m a metal loving girly pop 😭🙄

Last show - I’m watching family guy as I type

I am a die hard fan of the show. I’ve watched it so many times. I’m specifically watching the cooties episode🤪

Last movie - dodgeball

it is ICONIC ok??????

Currently watching - the office, family guy, does the basement yard podcast count? My Mondays aren’t the same if I don’t watch the new episode. I’m also meaning to get around to watch it’s always Sunny.

Currently reading - okay I don’t read real books because I just can’t and fan fic seems way more interesting and creative, but I have three on-going fan fic series that I’m currently obsessed with

1. Through the scope (Frankie) by @ssuperficialspacecadett

2. Shared breaths (Frankie) by @frenchiereading

3. Be-All and Endor (Din Djarin) by @djarins-cyare

Guys I’m telling you all these three series are to. fucking. die. for.

Current obsession - Star Wars

Ever since I finished the Mandalorian I’ve made it my goal to rip through the entire Star Wars franchise. So far I’m almost done all the movies and then I’m on to the series. Excited to watch the obi-wan series!

Tags: @theinvinciblekay @theidiotwhowritesthings @fuckyeahdindjarin @frenchiereading

[dalkyeom]

📌— Weekly Chan ; SKZ break!

This announcement has been a long time coming but I wanted to come here and let you know that I’ll be stepping away from creating skz content for the foreseeable future.

Tbh I didn’t know how to tell everyone that I wouldn’t be drawing for them anymore. Maybe, because I found myself comfortable with the community I found myself in but my passion to create fanart for them dwindled over the past few months. I held on thinking this is a fluke, but I think it's time for me to explore other interests of mine. I wanted to stay but I found myself frustrated with feeling like I'm putting myself in a box. honestly, it was the lack of traction or how hard it was for my work to be seen that was a big factor in wanting to leave. I stand by the fact that feedback is vital for an artist's motivation to continue making the things they do. The lack of it made me question if it was even worth continuing to draw for skz bc while I love them a lot, not having my works reach a larger pool of Stays was pretty taxing. also the fact I was hidden in the basement did not help :(

Sadly, my love for Chan couldn't soothe the creative frustration I was in. So I guess it's just time to go, step outside for awhile, and explore new worlds.

As a staytist, I want to thank you for liking my art 🥺 and I hope they were able to give some comfort or healing. Most of them were made out of sheer love for the group bc for a long time Stray Kids were my home. They provided me happiness that I wanted to share too. I’ll never forget reading the nice tags and the nice asks you’ve sent my way! Thank you for welcoming me to the fandom even though I don’t interact as much.

So I want to say, please love your content creators. editors, writers, fanartists— the whole nine yards bc without them you can feel the lack of an integral part of the fandom experience. If their works make you happy and you want to see more from them: share their work, send them love and asks, comment, engage— anything that can help share their work around bc we spend so much time creating things out of love for free! Let them know you appreciate the work they’ve put into the things they love. The least we ask for is to share works we spent lots of time on.

Thank you for reading! I hope I can still see you around while I make art for other interests. Under the cut will be about Weekly Chan updates and a more in depth explanation/ goodbye letter/ final thoughts since the important stuff has been said.

Weekly Chan has 19 more portraits to go before I can say I’m officially finished with the project. So, I’ll be working on those on/off because more than anything, I want to see it done. Weekly Chan started as a normal dedicated fan project for Bang Chan (mainly out of Chanrot) that became a source of wanting to spread warmth to fellow stays much like how Chan does weekly through Chan’s Room.

I made a goal of 100 portraits by his birthday, and since I’m close to finishing it I’ll be seeing it through 💖 as a gift because Chan has done a lot for me, like an extra booster when I feel like I’m doing things alone. There is no definite end date since I'll take my time finishing it. He is, after all one of the stars I cherish the most.

Tbh aside from the whole art-related stuff. Around March, I think I was already finding myself detaching from skz. It was like a gradual loss of motivation to keep following them. I'm sure if you were a follower of my @/mocimori blog you've heard me cry over it a couple of times. Mainly it was a culmination of many things but the speed the community was going (lovestay > oddinary) and over saturation made me feel what I felt towards Genshin twt's fast paced consumption of new content.

getting tickets to their Maniac Tour was what broke the chiamel's back. I was tasked to secure tickets so my fam and my friend can watch the show with me, but I underestimated how stressful it was. No amount of preparation could prepare me for ticketing day. The fact that there was no membership pre-sale made it 10x more stressful it was as if we were on the hunger games as involuntary Katniss Everdeens at the quarter quell. It was that bad. I ended up sick from the preparation stress and the crushing weight of not being able to secure even 1 ticket. Eventually, I did manage to secure tickets when they open sales for Newark D1 but the exhaustion I felt stuck to me like tar.

I think I was just hoping to go back to the way it was. The ticketing left a bad taste in my mouth and omo, this is a fault of mine but messy fandom stuff will slip in my radar even though I try to keep my feed negative-free. Then I heard about how Staytists were being treated by fellow Stays (reposting of art w/out consent, rating fanart on tiktok — basically just disrespectful behavior) I had a hard time trying to reconnect afterwards.

Also this post is getting way too long so I shall tl;dr what was going on with my Chan ult'ing journey but eventually the sparks just faded out. It was probably a combination of so many things and the pressure of wanting to draw Chan on a weekly basis, sometimes 3-5x a week that it just… took its toll on me…

it came to a point where I would cry over Chan at random hours of the day. I missed him, I felt guilty bc suddenly he was no longer the center of my thoughts. I felt guilt bc I knew people knew me as that Chan fanartist. It was silly, how I let a kpop boy affect me this much but I held him with the highest regard. He was my star; out of all the biases I ult'd he had the most special position and was a symbol of hope. Having a hard time relate to him, feeling so detached made me feel bad. As if the security blanket was ripped away from my fingers.

sometimes, I still cry over him. It's no longer as bad as that time I cried over him for a week or two straight. I reflected a bit because yeah, it was a bit silly of me but when he was the source of all my hope when I felt like I had no one— even if it was that small of an interaction, I felt like what I'm feeling is valid. So, yeah, I just feel like it's ok for me to let go now. I think it was more of my fear of leaving behind a community that made me want to stick around. Other than the pressure, I just feel like throughout the last few months I lost what little creativity I had bc I wanted to follow trends, I had to box this outlet for the sake of accuracy and aaah idk it was just not healthy anymore.

i'll still support the Kids in my own way. At the end of the day, they're still my ults and I love the music they make. But I wanted to write this so you won't worry wth happened to me and the skz art. It's not really a goodbye but maybe, a see you soon!

thank you for everything!

[tr333house]

Looking for a housemate starting Oct 1 (maybe earlier), small room is 950 large room is 1050 not including utilities, which typically are around 80 per month. Both rooms are on the sunny side of the apartment. on the top floor of a brownstone. Hardwood floors, window in every room (the living room has a skylight), small but well designed apartment with an open kitchen and living room. One bathroom, which faces back yard (there are trees 😍).

I am a 37 year old immigration lawyer as well as artist manager and advocate. I also play music and dj. I currently work from home but that may change in the future. I often go out to parties and raves. I don’t have parties at the house often (maybe once a year) but I do often have a friend over. We are all 420 friendly and enjoy a relaxed and upkept environment. I love to cook and share, to watch movies and relax with my housemates in the common area, engage in parallel play and craft time as well. I go on bike rides when the weather allows. I can be a homebody in the winter and a manic ephemera in the summer.

I’m looking for a housemate who is interested in similar things and would feel comfortable in this environment. The common area is fully furnished but there is room on the walls and space can be made for your favorite art etc. looking for someone interested in fostering a friendly and cooperative home— direct communication, kindness, and collaborative approaches are most welcome. Cats are welcome if you are very clean.

This is a subleasing arrangement with the option of signing on to the lease after 3 months. Some other useful info: a 10 min walk to the Myrtle willoughby G, 12 mins to the flushing j/m and 15 mins to the broadway/myrtle j/m. By at least 3 different grocery stores. There is a rinky lil laundry machine in the basement but I use the laundromat just a couple blocks away. There are a few very close by to choose from. I’m super close to herb Von king park, arguably the best neighborhood park in Brooklyn and maybe all 5 boros (bold claim I know but it’s a great park).

Please only respond to this ad if you are not only interested in the space but also interested in fostering a comfortable safe and friendly home. The price tag on the space may be lower than many but the “hidden cost” is you actually have to be a kind person willing to match my freak as a housemate.

To respond to this ad, you can email me at theames@gmail.com. Please put “tr333house” in the subject so I find your message💌. Also please include some socials so I can scope out your vibe lol.

[adamdusmortain]

tag people you want to know better!

thank you @sysba for tagging me 😸😽

last song: i almost do by taylor swift

currently watching: like my literal currently watching is the basement yard podcast. but my actual currents are a sign of affection and the apothecary diaries <3

three ships: satosugu, erenmika, everlark, merthur and emmadex. i give you 5.

favorite color: blue/purple

currently consuming: nothing.

first ship: uhhhh first one i can remember but im sure there was one before was austin and ally 😭

place of birth: south carolina, usa </3

current location: ^ 💔

relationship status: well… no.

last movie: priscilla

currently working on: staying awake.

hehe, like always, i’m tagging anyone and everyone that sees this. join if you’d like 😎

[inkandpen22]

Always a Ploy

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Warnings: none

Word Count: 1.3k

Summary: Y/N is often used as a ploy to catch the perpetrators and it drives Spencer crazy 

A/N: I’m always adding new one shots for Reid so if you’d like to be tagged lmk!

Masterlist

Y/N

I sway my head from side to side, playing music in my head to distract myself from the fact that I'm freezing. 'Stand and wait on the side of the house' Hotch ordered. 'I'll give you the go-ahead soon' he promised. Ten minutes later, Reid and I are still waiting for the said go-ahead. At least Reid gets to be in normal clothes for the desert at night. I'm yet again being offered up as a ploy and in Morgan's mind, a door-to-door saleswoman would wear a dress when the weather is supposed to be low sixties, the wind not included. 

"Honey, you're killing me. Are you sure you don't want my jacket?" Reid offers again for the third time in the last five minutes. 

"Yes." My breath escapes between my teeth. "I'm fine. Plus, we won't have much time once Hotch gives the signal." I shake my limbs to remain warm. 

“Wait for my command," Hotch announces into our earpieces. "We lost sight of him in the window. We suspect he’s headed to the basement.” 

I shake my head. “Screw this. I’m going in.” 

“No, you’re not!” 

“They’re children! One more minute with that monster is another minute of trauma!” I move to step around the house and toward the front door. 

Reid slips his gun back onto his belt and grabs my wrist to stop me. He yanks me back and pins me against the cool wooden panels of the house. I open my mouth to argue and he covers my mouth. He whispers frantically, “Baby, baby, listen to me. I can’t let you in there!" I wiggle in his hold. “Stop fighting me.” 

“Y/N, you may proceed," Hotch announces, giving me the go-ahead. 

Reluctantly, Reid has no choice but to let me go. His hand falls from my mouth slowly, but he keeps me pinned and stares into my eyes warningly. “Don’t do anything reckless!" 

I smirk and slip out from under him. “You should know me better than assume I’d listen.” 

“Y/N, I’m serious!” He whispers, aggravated. 

“So am I." I send him a wink as I step out from beside the house. 

The lights from the living room pour out of the window onto the dry dirt yard. I take a minute a toss my hair to one side and yank the dress down to reveal more of my chest. 

Spencer

I watch from the shadows as Y/N adjusts herself to speak with the suspect. I hate it when she does this. I understand that Hotchner and everyone agrees that it works, but their opinions don't make any less uncomfortable. My own girlfriend is being used as a ploy, expected to flont herself to earn the trust of serial killers or rapists. 

Morgan appears beside me and squeezes my shoulder. “Don’t get hostile, Boy Genius.” 

“She’s doing it on purpose,” I grumble, gesturing to Y/N. 

“I know, I know.” He sighs. "But she's just doing her job. It's all pretending to her too," he assures me. "She's into you, man." 

Y/N

I ring the doorbell and rock on my heels, making the panels of the porch creak. Suddenly, the door swings open to reveal a worn-down middle-aged man in dirty overalls. 

“I don’t want to join any religion," he grumbles. He goes to slam the door shut, but I block it with my hand. 

“Neither do I,” I voice softly with a smirk. I step forward to stand on the threshold. “But maybe you’d like to sit down and talk about your finances? Have you been keeping track of where you’ve been putting your... assets?” I scan the man up and down with my eyes until I meet his gaze. 

Spencer

As we listen to Y/N flirt with the suspect, Morgan chuckles quietly next to me. 

I elbow him in the stomach. “It’s not funny.” 

“She sounds like Jessica Rabbit,” he jokes, only irritating me more. 

There's creaking on the porch, followed by the front door squeaking shut. He's let her in. 

Y/N

The place is an utter wreck. There have to be at least a dozen cats, hundreds of old newspapers scattered everyone, and it smells of feces. I sit down on the worn and ripped plaid couch next to the old man. I wear my best smile, though inside I'm screaming. 

“Now, let’s begin. What bank do you currently use?” I ask, gripping my fake leather finance binder. 

The man shifts closer to me. “Chase.” 

I note now that he's missing at least five teeth. I nod. “They are great to their members, but we something broader... larger in size," I chose my words intentionally. 

Abruptly, there's a high-pitch scream from within the house, making both of us freeze. 

“What was that?” I ask, searching the surrounding area. 

“My daughter is upstairs playing!" He rushes out and scoots closer to me. Boldly, he places his hand on my bare knee. "What was that you said about size?” He grins and begins to glide his hand up slowly. 

I swallow hard, my eyes on his hand. I try to ease it off. “Sir, please-“ 

He lifts his hand off my knee and brings it to my shoulder. He tries to urge me to lay down. “Come on, sugar. I’ll pay you for your time. Your supervisor won’t have to know.” 

I reach underneath my dress and whip out my gun, pointing it directly between his eyes. “FBI, down on the ground!” 

His eyes grow wide and his jaw nearly hits the floor. “What!” 

The S.W.A.T. team barges into the house, all yelling over each other. They march deeper into the house and into the basement where we know the children are. Hotchner appears in the foyer with Reid and Morgan. Soon, Prentiss and JJ are close behind. 

Reid yanks the man off of me and tosses him onto the ground on his knees. He handcuffs him and pulls him to his feet. “No means no, asshole!” 

“She was asking for it," the suspect huffs as he's dragged off toward the foyer. 

Reid laughs mockingly. “Doubtful consider she just has to go to me for that." 

Morgan kneels in front of me. “You okay?” 

I nod weakly. “After every time I just feel gross.” I shake out my arms with a shiver. 

“He’s a disgusting man. I’m sorry he touched you.” 

“Part of the job.” I shrug. “At least I know how to defend myself. There are so many women who don't." 

Morgan nods. "Maybe you can take your experiences and help those women." 

Now there's an idea. 

__________________________________________________

I lean against the car with JJ and Prentiss as the S.W.A.T. team and members of C.P.S carry the little girls out of the basement and into ambulances. It's a bittersweet sight. Morgan and Reid step out of the house once the last child is removed. Morgan pats Reid on the back with a chuckle as they approach us. 

As soon as they reach us, Reid takes my hand and leads me to a tree a few feet away from the car. When we have some privacy, he starts to apologize. “Look, I’m sorry for what I did. I shouldn’t have grabbed you and covered your mouth. I didn’t know-“ 

I cut him off, reaching up and bringing my lips to meet his with a quick peck. His hands rest on my waist and I break from him. 

He blinks rapidly, taken aback. “I thought you’d be mad.” 

“Oh I was pissed in the moment. Now, it’s just hot," I grin, wrapping my arms around his waist. 

He smirks. “Noted.” 

“I didn’t know you could move so quickly, Reid,” I giggle. “And what you said to the perpetrator when you arrested him!” 

He chuckles, “yeah I may have been a little heated in the moment. In my defense, he did touch you! Okay, that was not a part of the plan!” 

“I appreciate the protectiveness,” I assure him with a laugh. 

He glances down at the small space between us and the smile on his lips fades slowly. 

I can tell there's something on his mind. 

“About your performance...” He mumbles. 

“Didn’t like it?” I ask, knowing how he hates it when I have to be a ploy. 

He nods frantically. “Yeah, never again," he orders. 

“Deal.” I nod, giving his lips a quick peck again. 

He smiles into the kiss. “Well, never again for anyone else," he adds against my lips, making me grin. He breaks from me to ask, "Do you think maybe tonight you and I could talk about my assets?” 

I swat him on the arm. “Reid!” 

He chuckles, "you're right. We'll talk about this when we get home." 

I roll my eyes and they land on our teammates by the car as they watch us go back and forth, smiling brightly. 

_____________________________________

Masterlist

Tags: @mrsobrien888​ @hufflepufftruffle @gillybear17 @thatsonezesty13 @smol-flowerkiddo @reesespieces10123 @madds-m @az3r0o @wafflebacon23 @spencerreid-mgg @alfonsais @justlivinginadaydream @kaitlynpcallmebeepme @farah3012 @doveygirlkay-blog @dreatine  @imhappybutimalsosad @parahmur  @tremendousdinosaurhideout  @destiny-dream67  @ashwarren32  @yeahjustcallmer-n @bluehydrangea-cherry​ @izzysecrets

[zachsreaderinserts]

sleepy boys inc x gn!teen! reader headcannons

trying something new! i like bbs and all, but i wanted to write for other youtubers! lemme know if yall wanna see more content like this lol.

this takes place in a minecraft au!!! also, mentions of bad parenting/abusive parents

wc: 2,319

okay the sleepy boys

chaos incarnated, all of them. you can’t deny it

so, when tommy invites a friend from a local village, at first, everyone else is skeptical. since when has tommy made a friend who didn’t hate him within 20 minutes from all the screaming and insults he spewed?

unlike his friends, phil is more excited than anything. though he isn’t tommy’s dad, he feels like it sometimes, so he really wants to meet this new person who has caught the youngest’s attention

techno is very much not on board. he has a hard time trusting people at first glance and having been friends with tommy for the longest, he knows that tommy readily jumps the gun and attempts to befriend literally anything just because he can

and wilbur? indifferent for the most part. yes, he feels the need to make sure tommy is protected and cared for, but he also recognizes that this situation is out of his hands. the best he can do is hope that their friend isn’t an absolute asshole

so, it’s saturday. all three men are sitting on the couch in phil’s cottage, talking amongst themselves as they wait for tommy to come back. techno makes a joke about murdering them, which leads to phil scolding him about his violent tendencies

“you haven’t even met them yet, techno, what the fuck.”

wilbur is simply adding fuel to the fire, making little remarks here and there and watching the whole thing escalate to phil lecturing the piglin hybrid.

because of this, not one of them had noticed that tommy returned, with his newest friend. they both stopped at the sight of phil in dad mode, tommy considering just turning around and taking his friend as far away as physically possible

too late, since techno’s sixth sense made him whip around and stare at the newcomer. this made phil stop lecturing and wilbur quit giggling long enough for tommy to introduce his friend

after saying their name, the friend lifted their hand shyly, face burning from slight embarrassment. their other hand was latched onto tommy’s, feeling intimidated.

can you blame them? the fucking blood god looks like they wanna skewer them and cook them over a campfire.

tommy took notice of their shyness and cleared his throat, “we were planning on going to the carnival in their village if you three assholes feel like tagging along.”

like there was any way they were gonna let tommy and his friend go out without chaperones.

tommy turned back to his friend, “give me a second, i’m gonna go grab my sword just in case.” and proceeded to run up the stairs and towards the guest bedroom in phil’s house that he claimed.

the millisecond he was out of earshot, techno grabbed his friend by the front of the shirt.

“what are your intentions with tommy?”

the friend blinked once, twice, then bit back a smile. “you’re asking that as if i’m about to date that motherfucker.”

this time, it was wilbur who bit back a grin of his own. who would’ve expected the originally shy kid to have replied like that????

techno’s brain short circuited and his grip on their shirt loosened slightly. did.... did this kid just brush off his question???

“can you put me down? you’re gonna stretch my shirt.”

techno’s brain blinked back into focus and he gripped the kid’s shirt harder, shoving them against the nearest wall. “i asked a question, kid.”

“you know, tommy told me something like this would happen. i’m glad i came prepared.” and then, tommy’s friend sucked in a deep breath. techno leaned back, expecting the worst...

“MWISTER TECHNWOBWADE, PWEASE PUT MWE DOWN BEFWORE I SCWEAM”

oh god, this was far worse than anything he thought of.

he dropped the teen out of disgust more than anything, reeling backwards. if there was one thing that haunted his dreams, it was uwu-speak.

phil started howling of laughter, clutching his stomach and hunching over. originally he was going to stop techno from threatening a literal child but this outcome was so much better than anything he was anticipating

wilbur was no better, already tearing up from how hard he was snickering. he started choking on his own spit at one point, smacking his arm against the couch.

tommy was so fucking confused when he came back down the stairs, seeing the mayhem that was, for once, not caused by him. he glanced at his friend, who had the world’s biggest shiteating grin.

yeah, they were gonna fit in just fine.

and they did! phil took them under his wing (both physically and metaphorically) and allowed them to come visit his home whenever they wished. and whenever they did, phil was the first to ask how they’ve been and what they were up to

to phil’s surprise, the kid was overall calm in their choice of activities. things like playing soccer or drawing or figuring out how to learn instruments in their free time. it seemed like they were desperate to get their hands on anything and everything just to learn

he found it funny, though, when their chaotic side shone through. they easily were on tommy’s level when they got into that headspace and it was so hilarious to him.

his favorite memory of the kid was when they walked into the house and marched right up to where techno was reading idly in the corner. planting their hands on their hips, they spoke.

“if you were to fuck a clone of yourself, would it be masturbation or would you be considered gay?”

phil, who was washing the dishes six feet away from them, just about crumbled into a ball on the floor from how hard he was laughing and sobbing.

of all questions, that was the one that came out.

but he had no idea that the chaos was a coping mechanism. he just thought they were naturally like that in their free time.

he soon found out the truth when they came home with tommy, who was cursing up a fit, visibly angry. his friend was slumped over, as if trying to hide themselves from the world

when phil asked what had happened, tommy exploded.

“their fucking dad took all their money from their savings! said he needed it more than them and when they asked for it back, he called them a fucking disappointment! that fucking bitch--”

phil can count very few times when he felt true anger and he can confirm that when tommy had told him what had gone down, he saw red.

but he knew better than to outwardly show it. judging by how hunched over and defeated the kid was, what they needed was a stable support system

so he walked over and shut tommy up with a hand on his shoulder, “why don’t we take the rest of the night to build up that game room you wanted in the basement. i’m sure if we knock it out before techno and wil are supposed to be back, we can all play something like monopoly.”

seeing where phil was headed, tommy nodded and brushed away his anger. he knew that what his friend needed was a serious cheering up. tommy ran towards his guest bedroom, claiming that he was going to find his blocks.

phil crouched in front of the teen, tilting their head up to look him in the eyes. “you’re not a disappointment. you’re an amazing person with a chaotic joke machine going 120 kilos over the speed limit in your head and you are talented. your dad doesn’t know shit about what you’re capable of doing.”

oh boy, the kid’s crying. those are tears, full on tears.

that night was one of the best nights of their life, however. they enjoyed the entire three hour long game of monopoly where they watched the light leave everyone’s eyes. it was funny when wilbur lunged across the table when he landed on a railroad, out for phil’s blood.

speaking of wilbur, he enjoyed every minute in the kid’s presence. they often asked creative and random questions and went along with the abstract jokes he made, the two of them laughing heartily the entire time.

when the kid first mentioned wanting to learn how to play the guitar, he practically burst through the wall of the room next door, breathing heavily and exaggeratedly.

“did someone say guitar”

yeah, he’s feral. that’s canon.

they proceeded to spend the entire day in phil’s garden, each of them equipped with a guitar. despite their outwardly smooth brain and stupid demeanor, the teen was a fast learner and could play the most basic chords by the time the sun was setting.

wilbur’s favorite moment was the first night they met, when they went to the carnival. there was the game where you shoot the water and fill up the balloons and the kid was going head to head against techno and tommy.

it was when techno won that the teen turned to techno with murder in their eyes and spoke in a deadpan tone of voice,

“you’re lucky you won this time, you gentrified mayo monkey.”

wilbur’s jaw dropped, as did techno and phil’s. tommy was already in hysterics, smacking his hand against the counter that held the guns.

needless to say, wilbur found his favorite, not-quite sibling in a heartbeat.

techno was the last to come around with the child. can you blame him? every time he tried to threaten them or had beaten them at something, they would respond in a cryptic threat--

“i’m going to pee your pants if you don’t let me win”

or just brushed him off. without a second thought.

“anyways, i was murdering a chicken the other day, and the fucker had the audacity to ribbit at me.”

to say he was confused was an understatement. he was terrified of the fact that a literal child held so much power and disinterest in things like their own life. so for the first few months, he avoided them.

but he had seen past that when it was around midnight on a weekday. tommy was hanging out with tubbo and ranboo in their village miles away from the area. wilbur was out drinking with schlatt, niki, and fundy, and phil was already asleep.

techno wasn’t too far behind, sitting in front of the fireplace and staring out of the window that showed the front yard. it was only then when he saw the flash of a familiar face and looked closer as the teen walked up to the house quietly. their head was down and they carried a small bag with them.

techno opened the front door with a long creak as they reached the porch steps. it was only when they jumped and looked up in surprise that techno had noticed a deep bruise on their left cheek in the moonlight.

despite the fact that he kept away from them, techno was very protective and territorial of tommy, phil, and wilbur. and since they were attached to the teen, he became protective of them as well.

so all the voices in his head went quiet for a second. before exploding into a mixture of screams and threats, all leading back to protecting the child in front of him.

without thinking, he reached forward and cupped their face for a better view of the bruise. at the warm and soft touch, tears slipped down the kid’s cheeks and they sniffed pathetically.

the voices quickly took a 180, all screaming to take care of them. make them feel better. so, techno led the kid inside and let them spend the night in his room, with them falling asleep on the bed and him falling asleep on the rocking chair in his room.

phil did not hesitate to officially declare himself as the teen’s official father, saying that their biological father was a “little bitch”

now somewhat living with the teen, techno found an appreciation for their quieter moments, when they were reading or simply daydreaming. it was cute, in his eyes. but he also grew to enjoy when they were absolutely feral, especially toward tommy.

his favorite moment with them was when they had gifted tommy a music disc for his birthday. it was sweet and sentimental and tommy just about burst into tears when he saw it.

all of the sappiness quickly vanished when tommy put it into a jukebox.

“FUCK THIS PUSSY, BOY, FUCK. FUCK IT RIGHT, BOY--”

tommy had let out the most terrified scream and it practically engrained itself into techno’s brain. it was the first time he ever laughed at something the teen had done and the teen felt proud of themselves.

and finally, tommy. he was already happy to call himself a friend of the teen’s. they were like peas in a pod, working together.

tommy came to them when his insecurity felt heavy and they came to him whenever their dad’s words got to them. they had a nice system of dependency on one another and neither of them would trade it for the world.

tommy’s favorite moment of being friends with them was during their first birthday living in phil’s house. it was a birthday befitting their personality, with brightly color streamers hung and confetti all over the floor. he knew that they enjoyed it severely and once the cake was cut, the kid turned to phil.

“phil, where’s the big tiddy strippers i requested?”

tommy was GONE

he all but choked on his slice of cake and walked away, shaking his head while trying to stifle his giggles. but when he heard phil’s scream of “WHAT”, he just lost it.

all in all, his friend had made a fine part of the sleepy boys. they were a happy face in an otherwise somewhat bleak and dangerous world. and all four men appreciated it.

[metalbuckaroo]

ALRIGHT! YOU WANTED AN AU THAT YOU HAVEN'T DONE YET AND I AM HERE TO PROVIDE! HOW ABOUT A LITTLE HORROR AU WITH BUCKY?!?

Got some prompts for ya, love!

“this is the opposite of what i told you to do.”

“did i ever tell you how beautiful your eyes are?” <-thought maybe you could do this one if they're hiding in a small space together 👀🥴

“that was, by far, the stupidest thing you’ve ever done.”

Don't Listen

Summary// A cry for help has you stopping the car to check it out

Warnings// Usual horror movie warnings, mentions of violence, guns, weapons, injury, nightmares and death, could possibly be considered dark since it's horror movie themed (just in case I did tag it dark) there's a tinge of fluff in there, cursing.

AU// Horror Movie!AU x Cop!Bucky x Reader

Note// this was a lot of fun to write and I'm soooo happy that you had this idea 🥺 as always, requests and asks are open. Though this doesn't include smut, 18+ only

Masterlist

Moodboars by: @commonintrest

Just like every other Friday night after Bucky's shift, he took you with him on a drive on a backroad. The same back road as always, one that wound around and had houses that were a mile or more apart.

Windows down and light music playing to unwind from the long work week both of you dealt with.

"Wait-wait-" You grabbed Bucky's arm to stop him from pulling away from the stop sign. "What?" He sighed, looking over at you. "Did you hear that?"

Bucky nearly stopped breathing to stay quiet enough to hear what you were talking about, the only sound he could hear being the quiet music from the speakers and soft mechanical whirring of his left arm.

You could've swore you heard a woman's voice screaming from the abandoned house you drove by every week. The one that looked to, at one point in time, doubled as a junk yard from the rusted out cars that littered the back and front yard, along with the tree line in the back of the house.

He shook his head, furrowing his eyebrows at you. "I don't hear anything." He shrugged. You still didn't move your hand, listening intently.

Bucky nearly choked on his own spit when you suddenly got out of the car, making your way up the walkway to the run down house.

"Godda- what the hell are you doing?!" He barked after you, jamming the car in park and opening the glove compartment for his gun.

"How could you not hear that?" You huffed, trying to peak in the cracks of the boarded windows as Bucky secured his gun into the holster on his belt. "You going crazy on me? It's an abandoned house, babygirl." He said, gently gripping your wrist in the metal of his left hand.

"Then you won't mind going in to check it out, Deputy Barnes." You sassed, poking a finger into his chest at his title.

Bucky rolled his eyes, going to the door to twist the handle open; knowing it'd be useless to argue with you.

The house was completely dark, Bucky clicking on his flashlight to peer around the living room at the old, torn up furniture that was covered in dust and dirt.

He exhaled and turned back to you, seeing you chewing on your bottom lip. "See? It's just an old, vacant house." He assured, getting ignored as you pushed pass him. "Yeah, yeah." You dismissed, taking his flashlight to look for yourself.

Bucky followed close behind as you went towards the kitchen, different types of bugs and rats scattering when the light would land on them.

"C'mon, back in the car. Need to get ya home." He went to grab your arm again and you moved away to a door that was cracked open, a dim light peaking through. "Hey-" He let out an aggravated groan and followed you down the stairs that the door led to.

"This is the opposite of what I told you to do." He snapped, looking at your completely froze form at the bottom of the stairs.

When he reached the bottom, he looked into the lit room. Everything was completely new, stainless steel tables, glossy, concrete floors and plastic sheets on the walls.

"What the fuck..." Bucky grumbled, walking further into the room. There were different hallways, meaning the bottom of the house stretched much farther than the main part.

He looked over to your wide-eyed face, nudging your arm. "Go back to the car." He said softly, stepping further into the room. "What? No, I'm going with you." You said, furrowinf your eyebrows at him.

"You really are going crazy." He huffed, going to one of the hallways, your footsteps following close behind. "Are you still hearing- whatever it was you were hearing?" He asked, looking over his shoulder at you.

"No, but that doesn't mean that nobody is down here."

Peaking one of the doors halfway down the hall open, there was a dark closet on the other side; Bucky opening the door more to flick on the light. "Nothing." He exhaled, looking behind the door.

A sudden slam of a door made you suck in a sharp breath and grip onto Bucky's sturdy metal arm; both of you standing completely still.

A tall, slender man covered in blood stood by one of the sets of metal drawers, pulling out different sharp instruments and whistling an upbeat tune as Bucky shoved you into the closet with him. Shutting the door as quiet as possible.

"Shit..." He cursed under his breath, pressing the heel of his right palm into his forehead. "What are we gonna do?"

Bucky huffed a breath at your question and shook his head. "I don't know." He mumbled, looking at your scared expression. "You're the one with a metal arm and gun. Fucking do something." You blabbered before his hand clamped over your mouth.

"Shut the hell up, you're gonna get us killed." He hissed, staring down at you for a moment as he listened for any movement. "Did I ever tell you how beautiful your eyes are?" He said, squinting at you.

You swatted at his hand and huffed a breath. "Now is not the time." You mumbled, raking a hand through your hair to help think of how to get out of this situation. "This was, by far, the stupidest thing you've ever done." Bucky snapped in a hushed voice, cracking the door open so he could peak out.

"Do you see him?" Bucky nodded his head at your question, hand on the handle of his gun again, just in case as he shut the door again. "All of these hallways, there has to be another way out." He sighed, rubbing his metallic hand down his face.

"Maybe we can make a break for it down the hallway while he's not looking?" You shrugged, the nervous look on Bucky's face making you worry more and more. "No, that's a terrible idea."

The woman's voice you heard earlier echoed into the room, making you grab for the door handle. "What are you doing?" Bucky said in a whispered yell. "I hear someone, they need help, Buck." You choked out, trying to keep your voice quiet as you pulled at his metal hand that held the door shut.

The cry for help was close to driving you crazy, echoing into your ears as you pulled harder on his arm. How could he not hear it? It was so loud, the woman might as well have been in the room with you.

"Hey, sweetheart. C'mere." Bucky cooed, grabbing both of your hands in his left hand, his right lifting to hold your chin. "Don't listen to it. Okay? Don't listen to it." He muttered, trying to soothe your fidgety form. "Bucky, there's someone else down-"

The grip on your hands tightened when you tried to jerk them away from him. "We'll deal with it when we get outta here. Can't do anything if we're dead." He said through gritted teeth.

You were starting to panic more. Trapped in the basement of some house, no way to get to the phones or the car that was still parked at the side of the road outside.

"This is my fault, I should've never got out of the car. I'm so sorry, Bucky. I'm sorry." Bucky had to think fast to silence your quiet crying and apologies; to find a moment to think.

His lips found yours for a brief moment, making you turn your head to break away. "You idiot, this is not the time for that." You huffed, Bucky's hands going to the sides of your face.

If this was the last bit of time he had he needed you to know. "Sweetheart, listen to me. I love you, I never told you before because I'm a fucking idiot. But, I love you." He said quietly, steel blue eyes dancing back and forth as tears welled in your eyes.

"We're gonna die aren't we?" Your shaky voice broke his heart. He shook his head, looking down at you. "No, no. I promise, I won't let anything happen to you. I swear, I wont."

"What the hell do we do?" You exhaled, pressing the heels of your palms to your eyesockets. "I... I'm going to do something and I need you to run. As fast as you can, up the stairs. Don't worry about me. Okay? Just fucking run until you get to the car, get in and drive. I'll be fine."

It was finally your turn to look at him like he'd lost his mind. "You're fucking stupid if you think I'm leaving y-"

Bucky's hand left hand clamped over your mouth again when heavy footsteps started down the hallway, free hand clicking the light off.

You squeezed your eyes shut as the footsteps got closer, waiting for the moment the door was jerked open and all of it would be over, with so much that was left unsaid.

You let out a breath that had been trapped in your lungs when the footsteps passed the door, Bucky leaning to talk as quiet as he could in your ear. "You have to. Go to the station, a neighbors, anything. Just get out."

You nodded in agreement and he lowered his hand, taking his gun from the holster and opening the door.

Your heart pounded in your ears as he stepped into the hallway cautiously, gesturing for you to come out. "Straight to the car and drive away." He ordered, a loud slam of a door making both of you look back down the hallway.

"Bucky-" You started, going to grab his arm before he aimed at the lanky figured at the end of the hallway.

A single shot was let off, going straight into the man's chest; but he still didn't stop his long strides towards the two of you. "You can't escape." His ominous voice chuckled, echoing against the walls.

Bucky swallowed thickly and aimed again, firing each round into the sinister form before shoving the firearm back into it's designated spot and grabbing your shoulders. "Run."

Your eyes tore away from the menacing saunter the man kept as you darted towards the end of the hall where the large room started; Bucky following.

A loud, heart wrenching scream made your stomach churn, looking behind you to see the man pulling a knife from Bucky's side. You froze, not sure if you should try to help Bucky, or run for help as he grew closer to you.

A shake of Bucky's head as he fumbled back to his feet sent you up the stairs, a hand wrapping around your ankle and jerking your leg from under you; your chin smacking one of the wooden stairs making you whimper.

You blinked away the fuzzy feeling in your vision and gripped onto the splintering wood, pulling your body forward as you brought your knee up and rammed the bottom of your foot into his face; getting out of his grip long enough to climb the last of the stairs.

Jerking the front door open, you stumbled off the porch and down the driveway. The car was right there, nearly in your reach as your legs worked fast to carry you closer to it.

The keys were still in the ignition, but the engine wouldn't turn over; the starter clicking again and again as you sobbed and screamed for it to start.

Pounding on the steering wheel; you cursed and screamed before you gripped it as you took a deep, shaky breath, looking to where the two phones once sat in the cubby hole under the stereo. "Fuck!" You cried, pulling yourself from the car.

The front door was jerked open again, making you stop in your tracks and look to who it was.

"Buck-" you felt a tinge of relief paint over the fear that surged your veins, his once neat, clean uniform shirt now torn on his side and blood soaked. "Go! The woods! Go!" He barked, making his way down the broken down porch steps as fast as he could to follow behind you.

Lungs burning, tears streaking your face in fear for your best friend and legs threatening to give out each time your feet pounded against the dirt, you glanced over your shoulder to see where Bucky went; arms suddenly encasing your mid-section and pulling you to a near by tree.

A scream tried to rip from your chest, the familiar coolness of metal clasping over your lips stopping it. "Shhh!" Bucky hissed, bruises blooming on his face and blood coating his teeth from the cut on his lip.

Breathing heavily through your nose, you let your eyes close. The thundering of your heart making it hard to hear anything. "There's a neighboring house just outside the treeline. You can make it there." He said once he was sure there wasn't anyone close by.

"What about you?" You said once he moved his hand, voice shaky and hoarse from how raw your throat felt. "I'm gonna try. C'mon."

He pulled you along behind him, feet moving fast over logs and vines that littered the ground.

Bucky suddenly stopped, tugging you to go infront of him and urging you faster; the break in the woods getting closer and closer, finally walking into the neighboring yard.

A middle aged man answered your frantic knocking, shock and fear etching across his face at the sight on his front porch. "Deputy James Barnes, we need to use your phone." Bucky said holding his badge up.

A simple nod and he moved aside to let the two of you in; locking all of the locks on his door before going to where his home phone sat. "Honey! Can I get some help down here?! Sit down, my wife is a nurse, let her look at that." The man said, handing Bucky the phone and gesturing to one of the dining chairs.

"Are you okay? Do you need some water?" He asked, reaching a hand towards you. "Yes, please." You croaked out, still on edge that the man could come through the door at any moment.

"Oh, my god." A woman gasped from the bottom of the stairs. "What happened to the two of you?"

"Long story." Bucky groaned, letting her lift his uniform shirt to inspect the gash on his side. "I'm calling it in, we'll be outta here soon. Okay, sugar?" The promising look in Bucky's eyes added hope back into your heart. "Yeah."

Soon, ambulances and patrol cars filled the road, Bucky insisting on going with Steve and Sam to search the perimeter again; no matter how many times you protested. Only getting promises that it'd be fine as the paramedics ushered you to the ambulance.

Every second felt like an hour as you waited for the three men to appear back from the woods, Bucky limping this time as he walked to stand in front of you.

"Are you okay?" You said, lifting your hands to his blood and dirt covered cheeks, seeing him wince slightly. "I'm fine, we're fine." He said, giving a light smile and taking your hands in his, holding them to his chest. "You're staying with me tonight. Alright, babygirl?"

You gave a soft nod, pressing a tender kiss to his busted bottom lip before leaning your forehead against his. "'M so tired." You sighed, Bucky's hands moving to massage the tops of your sore thighs. "Can stay as long as you want and need."

______________

Two weeks passed, you still hadn't left Bucky's apartment to stay in your own. Every time you slept you could hear the woman's voice that hadn't been found; Bucky being right next to you when you'd force yourself awake seemed to help.

He never mentioned the incident after all of the reports and paperwork had been finished, he didn't want to bring back any memories you had managed to lock away.

But, he was worried, it affected you a lot more than it did him and it scared him. He watched you scrub the clothes from that night so many times before just throwing them away.

He didn't want you to leave the safety of his apartment or his bed for your own. It was the only thing to ease the constant uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Bucky saw the pained look on your face everytime you'd see the crooked scar on his side, it was completely different than the loving way you'd look at the one on his shoulder. So, when you'd trace it with your fingertips he'd always make it a point to tell you it wasn't your fault and how much he loved you.

He swore to himself that nothing would be left unspoken again.

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

Taglist: @likeahorribledream @cxddlyash @iwannabekilledtwice @bookstan0618 @marvel-3407 @glxwingrxse @yliumy @pineprincess @makbarnes @cupcakehinch @doasyoudesireandlive @magicwithinnightmares @preferredrealty @andy-is-gay @stucky-my-ship

[twofrontteethstillcrooked]

2 Oct. Suptober: No Vacancy

"There were no vacancies for a radius of nearly 25 miles. But I did find one room, finally. I'll text you the address."

"Thanks, Cas." Sam paused. "Have you spoken to Dean today?"

snippetfic; deancas

"Is this what it's like in Norway?" Dean asked, faint horror dripping from every word as he pushed a few cable knit sweaters from one side of a circular rack to the other.

"Sweden," Sam corrected. Off Dean's blank look, he clarified, "The store's from Sweden."

"Well, whatever. Happiest people on earth, my ass." Dean flicked the strings of a gray hoodie on a nearby hanger and sighed. "This place is giving me the heebie jeebies. Everything in here smells like ink."

Sam rehung a shirt the price tag referred to as 'muscle fit band collar' and prayed for strength. "We just need a few new clothes, and this place is closer than the nearest army surplus." And it wasn't like the three-acres large sentient mushroom purportedly threatening citizens two towns away was going anywhere quickly. In theory. 

"There's gotta be a thrift store around here somewhere. Suburb like this? There's probably nine different churches running a yard sale outta their basement."

"We have a gift card, thanks to Donna." Sam shrugged. "May as well use it."

Dean opened his mouth, no doubt to protest again, then spotted something in a far corner. Sam wanted to try on a pair of trousers and he was willing to let Dean work out his aggression towards moderately priced fast fashion by himself for a few minutes. In the cramped, smudged dressing room, Sam decided that maybe Dean was right to be unimpressed. Why did these khakis have elastic bands at the bottom of the legs, like a pair of sweatpants from the 1980s? Why were Sam's bony and pale lower shins so hideous by the glare of fluorescent lighting? 

He was spared further inane inner commentary by his phone bleating in the pocket of the jeans he already owned. "Hey, Cas."

"There are many young athletes in this county." Cas's tinny voice bled frustration. "They are energetic and loud."

"The tournament's over tomorrow."

"That did not help me today." It sounded like Cas was pulling a boulder out of his truck, with more difficulty than an angel should have had. "There were no vacancies for a radius of nearly 25 miles. But I did find one room, finally. I'll text you the address."

"Thanks, Cas." Sam paused. "Have you spoken to Dean today?"

A mirrored pause. "No?" Cas made the word seem multisyllabic.

"Okay." Sam put the terrible trousers back on their plastic hanger. "We'll see you in an hour or so." 

"Wait," Cas said. "Is something wrong with Dean?" 

The concern that radiated from the phone could have powered a nuclear warhead. Sam thought it prudent to keep his smile out of his own voice when he said, "Dean's fine, man. You just left the bunker without telling him you were leaving, is all."

"Oh." Cas was squinting; Sam just knew. "I didn't tell you either, Sam."

Yes, but I'm not butthurt about it, Sam thought. "It's fine, Cas. You found us a case." So far, all the case had really yielded in Sam was a desire to eat pizza loaded with portabellas as soon as he could get his hands on a pie, but Cas didn't need to know that. "No worries."

"All right. I'll see you…when you get here." Cas disconnected.

Sam rubbed a hand over his face to try to remove the exasperation from it. He braced himself for whatever mood he would find Dean in now.

This did not prepare him for how depressed Dean was, still in that one corner of the store, looking at flannel shirts. 

"You can't complain about the selection here," Sam said, nodding at the rack of buffalo plaids. "You own at least four shirts that look just like these."

"I hate this fucking music." Dean rolled his eyes up to the ceiling like he might try to bite one of the speakers embedded between the acoustic tiles. 

The song the ceiling blared, made more grating by a short somewhere in the speaker, was pretty bad, Sam had to concede. Why Dean couldn't just tune it out was a question Sam had no answer for. Perhaps they were no longer fit for mainstream shopping, Sam considered. Perhaps they never had been. A nearby salesclerk frowned at Dean's scowl and hightailed it away from his general grumpiness. 

Sam decided to try his luck with a different pair of trousers, checking the cuffs on them first, and was just about to head back to the dressing room when the disembodied ceiling voice sang, "Used to be that I felt so damn empty. Ever since I met you, no vacancy."

Yeah, okay. Not Sam's cup o' rock-n-roll tea either, he would readily admit. But he glanced over at Dean, and Dean was not grinding his teeth or clenching his jaw or glaring disdainfully. No. Sam saw, with both a pang of sympathy and a generous helping of humor, was that the subpar blah pop lyrics were getting under Dean's skin. 

In the midst of a bunch of mall clothes too trendy for the Winchester boys, Dean Winchester was pining. 

"Cas called," Sam said, casual as a crew neck t-shirt. "He's got a room for us an hour from here."

The transformation Dean underwent in that moment, from despondent Gen Xer disillusioned by consumerist propaganda and the kind of lonesomeness that only afflicted those lonely for a specific person to Man with A Renewed Sense of Purpose, was so instantaneous Sam physically could not keep from laughing.

"What?" Dean said, his expression morphing into a masterpiece of confusion.

"Nothing." Sam let his laugh trail off with a reasonably content, if also defeated, sigh. "I'm trying these on." He hoisted a pair of jeans aloft and headed back to the dressing room. "I like this blue plaid," Dean called out, suddenly the store's biggest fan.

"You should buy it for Cas," Sam called back. "It'd bring out his eyes."

That Dean seemed to be seriously considering the purchase was enough to start Sam smiling again. The dressing room was still unpleasant, but at least he knew the drive to even-more-middle-of-nowhere, Ohio, would be, if nothing else, fast. 

(with apologies to fans of OneRepublic :))

[writersrealmbts]

Diamond Tears and Little Wings: Part 5

Description: You’re a fairy, taken in by BTS. You need lots of love and care, otherwise your light will fade and you turn to stone. Between the seven of them, you should never feel unloved. Right?

Warnings: N/A

Posted: 02/11/2021

Tags: bts x reader, ot7

Angst/Fluff/Angst: 3,846 words

A/N: Okay, I told you guys that I would be alternating between DTLW and Clearwater Springs, so here’s the proof. Anyway, two more parts after this!

Your fourth home in five years is what they told you this was. But you couldn’t remember any but this one.

So your heart was aching, and you always wanted to cry, but you never dared to do so. Something, someone’s, words, telling you that crying in front of strangers was dangerous kept echoing in your head. So you blinked away any tears that came, hugged your stuffed animal, and studied the area you would lived in.

It was a little cold, so you hugged your coat tighter to you. You’d been told by the other fairies that your coat was special, because it appeared to be designed exactly for your wings, which was rare. But none of them seemed to have any idea why you would have such a special coat, excepting the fact that maybe in the country you came from it was more normalized to have custom wing-slits.

It was completely normal to come away from a home with a stuffed animal, and clothing and jewelry that could shrink down. People liked dressing up fairies.

You played with your bracelet as you examined the cement floor, and the plain white walls, and the windows that weren’t quiet fully insulated but were full east and full west, respectively, and provided quite a bit of natural lighting. You had your own bathroom and kitchen area, and the laundry room was in the basement. The bed was a bit creaky, but the mattress seemed decent. You had a cute lamp on the side table, and they had a few books for you on a bookshelf that had the bottom shelf broken beside the side table.

There was shoebox bedroom on one of the shelves as well, very simple, with just a bed in it, but it was decorated carefully—though perhaps by their daughter. There was felt covering the floor and back wall, which would provide a little insulation for you. The outside was colored on, but you didn’t have a problem with that.

There was an old rug rolled off to one side that they said you could use, and a bar with some hangers already hanging on it and plastic drawers they said you could used for your clothing.

You looked at your suitcase, which was resting on the bed, then set your dog on top of it while you got the rug, unrolling it and placing it near your bed.

Your job there was to do their laundry and take care of the cat that their daughter wouldn’t let them get rid of, and to entertain their daughter now and then, and when you weren’t delivering the clean laundry or entertaining their daughter you were to stay in the basement bedroom. Simple enough.

The cat was a sweetheart and the laundry was quite simple with only three people to wash for. Laundry was tossed down the shoot daily and every Monday and Thursday you were to deliver their clean laundry before they awoke.

They weren’t cruel, or strict, just very structured and busy.

She was very kind and brought you groceries, even getting you exactly what you requested. You just had to leave a list with her laundry on Mondays, because Mondays were grocery days. She even spontaneously bought you a cake, and when you told her that the basement was a little cold for you, she found a nice heater for you that greatly improved things, and found some more blankets around the house for you. They were generally gone over the weekends, visiting a different set of grandparents each weekend, which left you and Cupcake, the cat, alone in the house to do as you pleased.

Those were the days you ventured down to the fairy market, which was a safe space for fairies and since you did get an allowance for doing the laundry, you could sometimes buy some special treats or things that you needed.

You weren’t a fan of the husband, which was fine, because he only seemed to come downstairs if he needed to check the water-heater (they were having issues with it and he was too stubborn to call whoever it was that professionally dealt with those things), or to ask you to do an emergency clean on a shirt or tie or slacks. It wasn’t that he was mean, or sleazy, or that he gave you bad vibes, he was just very grumpy and brisk. Cold.

And he hated the cat.

Plus you had the distinct feeling that if he found out about your diamond tears it would be a very bad thing. He was a greedy man, raising a greedy daughter.

But you had a CD player now, and you could find CD’s now and then at the fairy market, and the wife said you could use any CD’s you found in the basement.

Which was how you found your current favorite CD. You weren’t certain who the artists were because the disc hadn’t been in it’s proper case, but their songs were so nice. And you loved the one song.

So some days, when you had nothing to do but give the cat all the love it wanted, you just listened to that CD on repeat, singing words as though you’d known them before.

You did different crafts, and solved some of the abandoned puzzles from the storage room.

You improved your shoe-box, replacing the bed (it was a sponge, hard and weird to lay on) with a carefully arranged nest of fabrics and stuffing. Sometimes you stuck your stuffed dog into the shoebox and snuggled into that. The smells on it so familiar and foreign that it made you cry.

Which meant you had to find a place to hide your tears. Normally you just saved them and exchanged them at the fairy market—where the currency exchange fairy, Heidrun, just discretely nodded and added their value to your shopping card balance.

But one day she stopped you before you could leave, holding your hands. “You don’t look well, dear.”

“Fourth home,” You told her simply, shrugging. “It’s more of a job than a home. But I’m not…I’m not suffering. She always makes sure I have what I need and allows me a lot of freedom. I have the whole basement to myself, and I’m allowed in the side-yard at all times. She even encourages me to come here. And I have music to listen to. Actually, I found a CD I really like, but I don’t know what band they are because it doesn’t say on the disc.”

“Try Magnus, he knows everything going on in the music scene,” She told you, squeezing your hands. “And trying to hold onto whatever love you’ve got and are getting. It’s not healthy for our kind to go unloved.”

You nodded. “I’ll do that.”

Magnus did help you, granted, you had to sing a couple of the songs for him to find the right group, but once he did, he sent to you over to Frida with a request for BTS albums.

Frida nodded, pulling out several book-like things. “They’re super popular, but they’re also in a ton a magazines right now. They lost their fairy because of some scandal, and now they’re in a slump, but they’re also going on a world tour, so it can’t be that much of a slump. They’re actually coming to our stadium for a concert, which is cool. They’ve started putting up the posters already.”

You looked at the books, confused. “I thought you said they were albums?”

“They are. The CD’s are accompanied by a booklet of photos and the lyrics, photocards, and usually a poster.”

You blinked then picked up the biggest one, concerned and confused. “It’s…huge…and a box?”

She just snorted. “You want that one? It’s one of their more recent ones. Don’t have their newest yet, but I can see if I can get one for you.”

You nodded. “That’d be nice, but sure, I’ll…take this one for now.”

She nodded and swiped your card. “All yours, sweet-cheeks. Now, tell me how you get your hair that shiny.”

You grabbed your hair and shrugged. “I don’t know. I just wash it.”

“Not even fair,” She muttered, then turned to a new customer.

You went home after hitting a few more stalls, getting more craft things and some stuff for the kitty, hugging the album and wondering what awaited you inside.

Cupcake was waiting for you on your bed, sitting up and meowing loudly, stretching out a paw for you to take (which you did because why else teach him that trick) and then purring and arching into your hand.

“I know, I was gone for forever,” You scooped him up after successfully setting everything else down. “I bought some new music for us. You need a better name. A masculine name. You don’t respond to Cupcake anyway—not that I blame you. It’s a rather poor choice of a name for a cat, much less a tom.”

He just purred, climbing up onto your shoulders and riding there while you put away the few food items you had purchased and hopping onto the fridge while you started cooking your dinner.

You hummed as you tried to think of a different name for him, but after a moment you paused, wondering what song it was you were humming and why it was so familiar and yet so distant. So easy, but you couldn’t remember. You couldn’t remember the moment you stopped singing what the words were or how the song went, despite having reached the chorus. You could only remember the last words you sang.

You shook your head and went over, quickly opening the box to where the disc was in the album without seeing any sign of the pictures (Maybe a poster?) and then popping it into the player.

But it was worse than the first one, because you swore you knew each song. You had vague images in your head of people performing the songs. It hurt. It hurt to hear these songs because they were too familiar. Too familiar and yet so completely foreign that it was unfair.

The first one wasn’t too bad, but the second started really getting to you.

By the third song you were in tears.

By the chorus of the fourth song you were full-on sobbing on the bed.

The fifth song clashed so much with the sentiments of the previous two that it just broke you down further, and you had to turn it off before you started screaming at the empty space where the music should have come from.

You grabbed the photos from the album box after you had calmed down enough. Not bothering to try and remove the sticker, you slide the photos out and started flipping through the pages, horrified at the fact that they looked so achingly familiar and yet you had no idea who they were.

You tossed them back in the box and slammed it shut, eyes filled with tears.

But you must not have woken when someone came into the basement, because three days later the man was demanding to know where you got so many diamonds.

And fairies can’t lie.

Five days later you were staring out the window, a place you couldn’t go until you filled the box on your small counter space with diamonds. It wasn’t too large, but it was large enough that you were worried about whether you would ever fill it.

So you turned on the disc again, and cried. Cried until you were sick, and then collapsed into your bed. Exhaustedly petting the cat until you fell asleep, only to repeat it the next day. And the next.

When you finally filled it, you went straight to the market just to get some time away from the basement.

The shopkeepers from your regular stops came rushing up when they saw you, even Heidrun, all asking where you’d been and if you were okay and before you knew it you were sitting at one of the picnic tables with some soup and some tea and a bunch of worried fairies fussing over you.

Frida sat silently across from you, looking concerned but ultimately staring at the table.

Or so you thought, because she suddenly reached across the table and grabbed your bracelet. “Where did you get this?”

You blinked and tried to recoil, but couldn’t. “I don’t remember. I just figured it was from one of my previous homes.

Magnus frowned, looking at it. “It looks a lot like the one that…”

She nodded. “There’s something etched onto them. Fairy craftsmanship. Come over to my shop. Come on.”

You followed her, curious, and not wanting to let something you had a very strong attachment to out of your sight.

First she tried a jeweler’s eye loupe, then she wrinkled her nose and grabbed a flashlight, shining it through the gems and onto the table.

You stared down at it, confused.

“Something tells me your family didn’t give you up willingly,” Magnus said, voice a little tense.

Frida looked at you, as though she couldn’t believe it. “You’re the fairy that was taken away from BTS?”

You just looked back at her. “Um…is that what all of that means?”

“How did you like that album you bought?” She asked, eyes narrowed to slits.

You shifted uncomfortably, not wanting to think about how much you had used it to make yourself cry, because if you did then you knew she was right. And if she was right, then it would be even sadder.

“Weren’t the one that said that they couldn’t have been too sad about losing their fairy to be going on a world tour? Why would I want to be her?”

“No, they talked about it…it’s because they’re trying to find her. Find you. They didn’t say it explicitly because they could get in trouble for that, but they’ve hinted at it and there are tons of reports and pictures of them visiting every fairy sanctuary they could without compromising their performances. It just took a while for it to hit the news for us. Y/n, they’re looking for you. And if this is any proof, I think they love you and you need love. You look like a skeleton with skin.”

Heidrun gently pulled you into her arms. “What changed? You were doing alright and then you were gone and you come back looking like a ghost.”

“They found my tears,” You whispered.

She inhaled sharply, not quite a gasp, and held you tighter. “You can’t stay there.”

“I can’t leave there either. Where would I go? I would just get arrested and brought back to them.”

Frida folded her arms. “Leave it to me. You go back, lay low. Maybe try to appeal to the lady of the house. I’ll have you out of there as soon as I can. In the meantime….”

“I’ve still got a backlog of your diamonds, come get them just in case he asks again.” Your arm was gently pulled toward the currency exchange station.

You took the bag, and the treats most of them packed up for you. If the love of other fairies was enough to sustain you, you never would have been in this mess. But fairies, while kind and caring, didn’t have enough love for other fairies to keep them alive, especially once exposed to the love of a family. Fairies were good, and kind, and helpful, but also emotionally unstable which made it hard to focus enough love into one another without a consistent source of outside love.

It was a miracle your species had survived as long as it had.

Cupcake greeted you, meowing pathetically and hopping into your arms.

You sat down on your bed with him. “Let’s think of a new name for you.”

Eventually you settled on Keyowo, which was close to his current name but meant friend and was just…it was better.

You then set to deep cleaning over the next week, shrinking your things and tucking them into your suitcase to keep them out of sight.

On Tuesday he beat you to tears because you weren’t producing tears fast enough.

The album caught your eye again on the next Friday.

You picked up, tracing the seven on the cover, and then opening it. You pulled out the poster and unfolded it.

They were in white, with feathers floating down and a hole in the floor. They all looked so good.

You touched the one on the far left, wearing the sweater. Slightly cat-like facial features. You felt like you knew what his hands looked like, even though you couldn’t see much of them in the picture. Slightly calloused, bony, but gentle and careful. Caring for everyone.

“Yoongi,” You whispered, choking up. Tearing up.

Your fingers traced over each of them, names a whisper in your mind. A whisper that turned into shouts, memories flooding your mind of each and every one of them. Your mind screaming for them because your throat was too tight to even whisper.

They were your boys.

They had to let you go.

You weren’t supposed to remember them.

They weren’t supposed to try and find you.

The next day you shoved everything into your bag, tucked the cat into your coat, left a note for the missus and headed straight back to the fairy market.

Frida looked surprised when she saw you. “Whoa, what happened? Is this the kitty your were telling me about?”

“They’re gone for the weekend, that means even if I stay nearby they’ll think I’ve had two days to run out on them. I need you to help me get me back to my family.” You teared up. “I need to find them.”

Frida nodded, glancing around and closing her shop. “Come on. You can stay with me.”

Frida’s family consisted of a pair of siblings.

The sister, Alena, was a fairy rights activist in her spare time, which is why Frida had so much freedom, and a huge music fan. She had a whole wall of CD’s and albums and posters. Stacks of magazines featuring musicians.

The brother, Agnar, was quiet, “just an accountant”, and very kind. And very affectionate toward Frida.

Frida was equally affectionate toward him, bringing a fake gag from Alena.

They helped you find an outfit that hid your fairy-ness, and he got you tickets to the concert, all of you hoping that it would get you close enough for them to see you and recognize that you were there. Also, it would help you health-wise to see them in person and the rush from the concert would be overwhelming, but also might revitalize you.

Then Alena forced you to sit in the bathroom with her while she applied a cloth to your face with epsom salts to try and reduce the bruising and swelling on your face. She told you about the fairy abuse responders, and how she would call them in the morning and tell them about your family.

Agnar totally stole your cat.

Frida let you sleep in her fairy-home (because it definitely wasn’t a dollhouse and it was awesome, of course).

Four days later, you were at the concert venue with Alena, taking a seat and soaking in the atmosphere. People were talking all around and some people were chanting the boys’ names. Another group was starting to sing the songs.

You listened nervously, wondering whether it was true or not that they were looking for you. What if they were just making a fuss to get back at the company a bit? What if the media was making things up? It wouldn’t be the first time a story was fabricated for magazines.

Then the concert started and you and Alena were cheering for your boys, but you wondered why you ever thought they’d be able to see you in this mess.

It wasn’t until the second half of the concert that you had hope.

The boys were in more casual outfits, having more fun.

And they were all wearing the jewelry that Namjoon had made from your diamonds.

Jimin was the one who saw you first, though he looked right over you and then seemed to try and pinpoint you again, but was unable to in the crowd. He stood there with a smile plastered on his face, acting as though he was studying each Army’s face when you knew he was searching for you.

So you stood still in the writhing mass that of the crowd, and studied him.

He had lost weight, and if it hadn’t been for the makeup, you bet he’d look fairly wrung-out.

All of them looked like they’d been sick enough to lose weight.

Taehyung came over and practically dragged him away (making it look playful).

But Jimin said something to Jin and Jungkook.

Jungkook was over there as casually as he could, totally looking at the camera and doing ‘fanservice’. But he obviously didn’t spot you.

Jin didn’t either.

But Yoongi did during the very last song and he stopped, staring, then he was crouched, hand over his mouth, just staring in your direction.

You waved, wondering if he actually was staring at you.

He smiled, but it also looked like he wanted to cry. He waved as well, then cautiously moved off, still keeping an eye on you.

You bit your lip, smiling.

Alena squealed and grabbed onto you, and the two of you did your best to fit in with the rest of the crowd.

Both of you lingered as long as you could afterward, her extremely hyped from the whole concert and talking a mile a minute, while you were feeling…exhausted? All of the emotions around you and finally seeing your boys again….

But you had no idea how you were going to get to them, or how they were going to get to you.

Until you saw Sejin, scanning the crowd.

The likelihood of him being on the side of the boys was pretty good.

You tugged on Alena’s arm, pulling her to a stop.

Sejin locked onto you and started moving, coming your way, waiting until the straggling fans that had been around you were gone before telling security to let you through.

You dipped your head to the security guards, then bowed slightly to Sejin. “Hello.”

Sejin smiled. “Hello, y/n.”

You bit your lip. “I remembered.”

He nodded. “I figured. We all figured. They’re waiting. They’re all waiting.”

You were practically vibrating.

“Come on, let’s get you back to them. Your friend can come but she needs to wait in the hallway for…security purposes.”

You nodded and relayed the information to Alena, then both of you were following back to the waiting room.

Sejin stopped by the waiting room. “Go on in.”

You nodded, putting your hand on the doorknob and then turning it and going in.

–

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Masterlist  -  ot7 Masterpost

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[bex-la-get]

Hello, hello! This week, we are going on a little:

Home Tour!

Notes: Answer the following with pictures (dialogue from your characters is optional!). Collages are highly encouraged if you want to answer a question with multiple pictures because tumblr mobile only allows 10 total pics. Otherwise, tumblr on a desktop lets you add multiple pictures (non-beta)!

For both:

What does the outside of the home look like? (Front/back yard, garden, pool, etc)

Living room and home office (if any)?

Kitchen and dining room?

Bedrooms? (Master, guest, others)

Other rooms?

Do you own your dream home? If not, what does that dream home look like?

What is your favorite room to spend time in with each other?

Hi babe! Thanks for the fun questions! Hope you like them!

So, little bit of context: Nat and Ethan recently bought this house after finding out that Nat was pregnant with their third child [Lydia]. So, I imagine them doing this tour shortly after Lydia’s born and they’ve settled into the house. Enjoy!

(Also, please imagine Nat doing with this with a baby strapped to her in one of those wrap things ‘cause that is the cutest damn visual and I need it to be seen).

Previous Questions

For both: What does the outside of the home look like? (Front/back yard, garden, pool, etc).

Nat: Ethan likes a much more modern look when it comes to houses while I prefer more traditional so we tried to find something that matched both. Instead, we ended up finding this beautiful Victorian and we both fell madly in love with the place!

Ethan: I have to admit, it surprised me how much I love this place. But I can’t imagine us living anywhere else now.

Nat: You can’t see it in the picture but the front yard is completely gated which is a huge weight off my mind. With two kids under the age of six and a newborn, the last thing I want to worry about is my kids getting out of the front yard. The gate has a special lock on it too so only people with the code can get in or out. It gives us so much peace of mind.

Nat: We really wanted the backyard to feel like an extension of the house so we decorated it as such. It’s great in the summer time when we can have friends over and have a big cookout. 

Nat: Ethan installed the hammock for me shortly after we moved in. I had always wanted one as a kid and now we get to curl up there in the evenings whenever we want. Plus, the kids love it. 

Ethan: *smiles* Next on the list is to set up a vegetable garden. I would have done it sooner but with Nat so close to giving birth when we moved in, I decided it was worth the wait. But by next spring, I’m hoping to have it set up and ready to go.

Living room and home office (if any)?

Ethan: Technically, we have two living rooms. The first one is more of a formal living room where you can sit and talk with guests, if you want. It’s not pictured but there’s a large fireplace with some bookshelves around the room. We treat it kind of like a study. It’s also where we plan on putting the Christmas tree come the holidays.

Ethan: The second is our “informal” living room-- or “den” as Nat calls it. This is where the television and game consoles are. This room probably gets the most use out of the house since this is where we have movie nights and just spend most of our time when we’re home.

Nat: Don’t forget the office, babe.

Ethan: Oh, right! We try not to bring our work home with us but with both of us working on books right now, we figured it was important to have a good work space away from the rest of the house.

Nat: I admit, I was worried about the black interior when we first saw it, but I’m kind of in love with it now.

Ethan: *smirks* I knew you would.

Nat: *rolls her eyes* Hush, you.

Kitchen and dining room?

Nat: Ah, Ethan’s favorite place in the house!

Ethan: One of my favorites, at least.

Nat: You know, before moving I never understood the hype for all-white kitchens. But I get it now! Look at this place, it’s so bright and open! And remarkably easy to clean.

Ethan: I could’ve told you that a long time ago, my love.

Nat: Yes, but I probably wouldn’t have believed you. *Ethan laughs*

Nat: You know that chandelier is original to the house? This whole room is, actually. It was basically untouched during the renovations. They just upgraded the windows and re-stained the flooring. The rest of the room is virtually untouched, which I absolutely love.

Bedrooms? (Master, guest, others)

Nat: Our room isn’t too fancy. Ethan likes it clean and simple and I like a lot of pillows. I think we managed that alright.

Ethan: We’re trying to keep the kids rooms as neutral as possible right now. Their interests are changing so fast that we don’t want to have to keep redecorating every time they change their mind. We’ll probably do more detailed decorating as they get older.

Other rooms?

Nat: We do technically have a guest room but it’s not considered a “bedroom” since it doesn’t have a closet.

Ethan: It’s a room in our basement that acts as a guest room. The rest of the basement we’re treating like a kids playroom and home gym.

Nat: It’s also where my mom has been staying for the last few weeks. She came up to help us settle in with baby Lydia. She’s been a godsend. *Ethan nods in agreement*

Do you own your dream home? If not, what does that dream home look like?

Nat: Absolutely we own our dream home. This place is amazing and everything I ever wanted in a family home.

Ethan: I never pictured myself with a big house or living in the suburbs, but here, surrounded by my family... it’s beyond my wildest dreams. This is better than a dream home; this is heaven. *Nat smiles and kisses his cheek softly.*

What is your favorite room to spend time in with each other?

Nat: Oooh, that’s a tough one. I love all of the rooms. But I think I’m gonna have to say the den and the backyard.

Ethan: Agreed. Any space where I can spend time with family is my favorite place to be.

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