#im never drawing ghosts on paper again

[marmotish]

what did freyja get for christmas? I mean what type of gift the characters would give her?

Christmas of 1989, because Freyja's in 6th year in-game which is incidentally the year she takes Duncan to see his grandma.

So what did she get for Christmas that year?

A ghost bound to her soul (temporarily, and of her own doing)

Possessed by said ghost at least three times

An insight into Duncan's childhood through conversations with his grandmother

A penpal

A genuine thank you from Duncan upon return to Hogwarts and only after undoing the soul binding first

Detention for the rest of the school year for going AWOL

But to answer more genuinely, that year some of the stuff she got was:

The latest psychological thriller novel from a wizarding author Freyja had never heard of, but still really enjoyed reading (from Rowan)

Practical Applications of Sigil Magic vol. 2 (from Badeea)

A literal storm in a teacup (from Tulip)

A personalised homemade perfume (from Penny, who'd been experimenting with perfumery that last summer)

Paddington pyjamas (from her grandma)

Tickets to the next years Quidditch World Cup (from her dad)

[mejaemin]

unhappy ending - 7dream

wc: 2.2k

summary: 7dream as angst tropes/plotlines (a.k.a. the dreamies as things that make me sad)

warnings: not proofread, extreme angst, hurt/no comfort (mark: cheating, manipulation, toxicity) (renjun: hospitals, depictions of illness and having an unwell appearance) (jeno: depression, depression related habits) (donghyuck: enlistment, death, murder?) (jaemin: this one kinda has comfort? dystopia, implied death, suggestive/after sex) (chenle: a lot of toxicity, being used) (jisung: getting played, heartbreak, ghosting)

an: who let me do this. i am hurting so bad and im the one that wrote it ?!?! this is why i hate angst guys im never doing this again. gonna write the fluffiest of fluff now

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cheating!mark texts you every morning and night, sending sweet messages with the occasional song lyric or spider man quote, be it motivational or romantic. it’s arguably your favorite part of the day, looking forward to the message of the day and the next. it’s quite confusing however, when he texts you one day saying “goodnight angel, sleep well! gonna be in the studio tomorrow, i’ll pick u up on the way <3 love you gorgeous, see you tomorrow minjeong”… when you ask him about it, questioning who this minjeong is, he immediately shuts down any idea of cheating immediately. when you sit in the studio with him the following day, he’s in the booth recording some chords on his guitar when you look at his phone. unsurprisingly, there’s messages from a “minjeong <3”. upon opening them, you see texts and texts that go on for months. of course, you immediately start screaming at mark, sobbing and punching him with frustration at his unfaithfulness. with a big pout and gifts ready, he kisses your tears away, rocking you back and forth in his arms so sweetly, cooing as he convinces you it’s no one, bringing you to stay with him and ignore the many “i knew it” texts from your friends.

memory loss!renjun sits in the hospital bed, skin pale and sickly as he draws in a sketchbook with shaky hands. there’s countless cords and tubes attached to his body, the abundance of technology being the only thing keeping him alive. the nurse standing next to you places a hand on your shoulder, startling you and forcing you to turn away from the hospital door’s window.

“if you’d like, you can try again today. he’s been pretty stable recently.” her smile doesn’t even attempt to reach her eyes, and you know she’s only doing it to try (terribly) to comfort you.

you nod gently, reaching for the door handle. “mm. thank you, i’ll do that.”

when you open the door, he looks up, eyebrows furrowing as he looks at you. “who are you? what are you doing here?”

you sit next to him, reaching for his hand, but he flinches and pulls it to his chest. “renjun… i- i’m sorry. i should have asked. i’m your girlfriend, we’ve been dating for three years, can you remember?”

he looks you up and down judgmentally, though it isn’t too intimidating when he’s as skinny as a twig. “no, i’m sorry, you must be mistaken. i’m very much single.”

just like that, your skin heats up with frustration and you have to fight back tears. turning on your phone, you turn it to him, showing your lock screen of the two of you. he only looks more confused, so you unlock it and begin scrolling through your gallery, swiping through photos upon photos of the memories between you two.

“do you really not remember any of this..? we’ve been dating for the past three years, we met in high school, donghyuck introduced us.. please tell me you remember, any of it.” your voice quivers, the tears falling freely now.

he shakes his head, albeit weakly. “no, i’m sorry i don’t remember any of this. are you sure you know what you’re talking about?”

from your bag, you pull out a small framed piece of canvas paper. on it is a bouquet of your favorite flowers, renjun’s signature in the bottom corner. “junnie, do you remember painting this?” he nods gently. “you made this for me. it’s my favorite flowers, and you gave it to me on my birthday.”

“that.. doesn’t sound right. i create art for myself, not to gift to other people. i wouldn’t do that. how did you get that.”

you can’t even see what’s in front of you, heaps and heaps of tears falling from your eyes. this is the third week in a row, trying to help renjun regain his memories, and the third week it failed. no matter what you say, what you show him, it’s like you never existed. the nurse opens the door, suggesting you leave, and as she helps you out you leave the painting with him, hoping and praying he’ll be able to remember you and all the love you had for each other.

overwhelmed!jeno was the sweetest to you, always being there for you when you needed it. no matter what he was always a call away, if you needed him he was there. he paid attention to your every need, and kept tabs on just about everything relating to you. favorite color, movie, flower, clothing style, everything. he was genuinely the best boyfriend you think you’d ever encounter. he treated you so, so good, rubbing your feet when you were tired, taking care of you when sick, and buying you the cutest of gifts ‘just because’. you were the same way with him too, y’know. whenever he felt overwhelmed, whether it be from the attention of his peers or even his own thoughts, you always knew how to calm him down. he found a home in your arms, as did you with him. everyone around you could see how perfect you two were, saying that love was real because of you. it was like everything was perfect as long as jeno was by your side. however, every couple has a rocky patch, and it just seems that you guys couldn’t make it through. sometimes, jeno got too burnt out taking care of you, despite it being something he enjoyed, and fell into habits of not taking care of himself. he grew eye bags, sleeping all day and didn’t look or act anything like himself. the outside world along with all his responsibilities at home, and his own, nagging, overwhelming, intrusive thoughts became too much, and he found it a struggle to love himself, let alone another person. with all the love in your heart, you had no choice but to part ways with him in hopes of him getting better and finding himself again. you hoped that his future had you in it, but you doubt you can be in the picture when he enters the right state of mind.

bf!donghyuck who spent the past year living his best life with you, taking you out on extravagant dates and vacations to make as many memories as possible before his enlistment. he bought so many gifts, took so many photos, and left so many marks in your shared home to make sure you’d never miss him. despite joking about it all the time, he was scared and upset about it as well. whole writing a letter for every month he was gone, more than half ended up having tear stains on them. tucking the final one into the box and leaving it somewhere for you to find, he grabbed his bags and ran to the car, sitting in the passenger seat while you drove him to the site. the whole ride was filled with tears and pointless arguments, the dread consuming you both. a whole year and a half without your soulmate, the love of your life was something you truly couldn’t bare. once you arrived, you helped him grab his stuff and make his way to the place where you would depart. right before he made his way to the hundreds of other men he would be going with, he dropped his stuff and held you tightly in his arms, kissing all your tears away and blending them with his own, promising that it would go by quickly, like he was never gone. for the first couple months you believed it, uncovering pranks and hidden gifts from him throughout the time he was gone. however, the third month came, and his gift this time wasn’t funny, or cute at all. when you opened your tv that morning, the news channel popped up, the reporter giving a solemn expression as he relayed the news that your lover’s base, the place donghyuck was stationed at, had been attacked, majority of the soldiers there being killed. a list of names was revealed, and with your heart beating out of your chest and nausea waving through you, your eyes trailed down the list until it stopped. lee donghyuck, age 24, was in the list of soldiers who had died. your entire lifeline, the one who owned your entire heart, the man who reminded you of the warm sun, had lied to you. he was gone, and wasn’t coming back.

dystopian bf!jaemin is someone who you admittedly don’t know too well. the world is overheating, on the verge of ending, and the sky is bright orange, air smoky in the mid-day when you meet him. with 30 minutes left on earth, the announcement ringing through all devices and televisions in the world. laying on the hood of his car, watching smoke billow through the sky in the distance, he turns to you with a smile.

“y’know, i’m really happy i met you, girlfriend.” his skin is bare, a dirty blanket covering both of your exposed bodies. at this point, you couldn’t care less about your skin being dirty.. there’s thirty minutes until you die, and with your boyfriend of about five hours, the only thing you’re concerned about is getting all your firsts checked off before everything ends.

you smile back, resting your head on your arm. “me too, boyfriend. this couldn’t have gone any better.” he pulls you in ever so gently, kissing you once again. it’s quite embarrassing, being in your twenties and having never experienced anything romantic, but you and jaemin are in the same boat and you both can agree that it’s really nice.

“touché. say, why don’t we get to know each other with what time we have left, hm?” his hand caresses your hair, putting a strand behind your ear. you can feel his hands shaking against your skin, and you try not to let it but it makes you all the more nervous about what’s to come.

“of course, shoot.” pulling your shirt on, you sit up and he follows suit.

with your last thirty minutes on earth, you share the stories of your parents who succumbed to the wrath of the decaying planet and all the other funny stories of your lives. the end felt so lonely this past month, and as your phone alerts you of there being a minute left, you feel whole again despite your sadness and fear. finding someone so similar to you, relating to him and connecting with him in such terrifying moments makes you feel a lot less empty. as you count down, saying goodbye to your short life, you watch the world around you, including yourself, burn while in the arms of someone you never thought you’d have.

toxic!chenle who always kept you on his arm, yet that’s all he ever did for you. he never addressed you or looked your way, but he never let you create any distance between you and him. if anyone asked, you were “his lovely, beautiful girlfriend”, but as soon as heads turned you were nothing but an annoying pest who kept clinging to him. you asked to be loved, to feel appreciated, and he’d look at you, an unconvincing pout on his face as he held yours lovingly and convinced you he’d change and give you the love you deserve. he’d take you out on a date, spoiling you with every penny just to make a post about it and then kick you to the curb. he didn’t love you, you knew that, but his attention was everything to you. he treated you so well when eyes were on you two that it was all you needed to stick around, giving him all your love when to him you were nothing but a shiny new toy to parade around to his friends.

heartbreaker!jisung who reached out to you one day, saying he was a friend of a friend who wanted to get to know you. you’ve never had that happen to you before, being wanted, so you began talking to him. he was so sweet, a cute, shy boy who’s fails at flirting and romantic gestures were extremely charming. he swept you off your feet quickly, taking you on many dates and buying many gifts for you. this dragged on for a long time, and you were so happy to have someone by your side that you didn’t even think of the fact that he never asked to make it official until your friend brought it up. thinking things were going well, you called him and suggested giving your relationship a title. immediately his line went silent, giving you no response, only being able to hear his hyperventilating, before he hung up. you texted him and called many times, begging him to tell you what was up, but it all fell on deaf ears as he eventually blocked you on everything. you were left heartbroken without closure, only hearing what happened when a friend of his reached out, apologizing on his behalf. allegedly, he said he was too scared to have a real relationship and couldn’t be a boyfriend to you. you couldn’t believe your ears, or, eyes. he made you feel so loved, so seen, all for him to back out because he was too scared to love, too unready.

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perm taglist: @chenlezip

[yandere-sins]

IM CRYING AT THE THOUGHT OF KÖNIG NOT LETTING DARLING COOK

No because imagine him approving of your combat skills (if you suck then you wouldn't be a KorTac operator in the first place) and enjoying how well you work with him on the battlefield but he draws the line if you were to get injured from cooking 😭😭😭

Darling, KorTac, and TF141 when König refuses to let darling cook but allows her to commit war crimes:

Darling explaining (begging) to König on why he should let her bond with the others like a normal soldier and cook for herself because she's not a child.

König towards anyone who tried getting too close to HIS platonic darling (they made a small talk).

You're sooo right about Ghost being rougher yet gives his darling more freedom aka the bare minimum. The problem with platonic yandere König is that he's infantilizing! Even if he's also friends with Horangi, you and Horangi are treated very differently. Horangi and KorTac pities you, truly.

I thought of something, since the rest of TF141 doesn't know the whole thing about you and König, how would you think they'll react towards König's treatment towards his darling? The only ones who came to my mind are Price and Ghost. Price who raises an eyebrow because he's not even like that with his men, and Ghost calling König out on his treatment that makes you uncomfortable.

König is just too afraid something might happen, he totally pulls darling from any missions if he can, but alas, they are more than capable. It also starts out as kind of nice for the darling, I mean, it's great if someone takes care of you for a while, right? But at some point they'll be pretty annoyed for even needing a chaperone to go to the toilet. But of course it's also hard to send König away. He only means well after all... Darling will need to put their foot down even if it hurts (':

The 141 probably sees it as a weird co-dependant situation at first. You're like a service pet even though they never saw the "real" and vulnerable König, so it makes even less sense. However, things do begin to ring alarm bells when they notice you getting frustrated about things like being sent away whenever you want to make food for yourself and König taking over. Or when you don't show up to training. Ghost and Soap are more on the personal front, catching up to you and bumping into your shoulder, asking if you're okay. Price is more of a business front where he orders you to meet him, however, he's still kind when he asks if you need help or if there is something uncanny going on he should know about. They're not really in a position to interfer with KorTac employees, but if you tell them you need a break, they can at least try to get the big guy off your back ever so often. You'll have to do the reporting yourself if you have enough but they can give you the pen and paper or telephone if it's something you'd rather not do in König's presence. But then again, do you want to?

[yawnderu]

Bruises That Bloom Purple — TF141 x Reader

>This was originally going to be a part of my 141 x Reader fanfic Stray, though I decided to change the ending, so have this angst one-shot instead.

When Johnny left them, they mourned. But he also took a part of Stray; the part that made her human.

The journal in your hands was a reminder of everything you lost— everything that Johnny had in mind ever since he met the task force. Pages upon pages full of scribbles, drawings, plans. His mind poured into the paper as if he didn't want to forget, some pages stained with coffee and blood, some fully clean. Your hands shook as you held the small book close to your chest, sob after sob escaping your lips for so long that the migraine became a second part of you.

"Johnny..." You cried out, hoping he would walk through the door. Hoping he would appear out of nowhere, hoping he would take you with him, hoping for anything, anything at all that allowed you to see his pretty blue eyes again, to be held securely in his arms again, to be kissed by him again. Fuck, even the image of him hurt.

You didn't lose a teammate— you lost a soulmate. A piece of you, of your soul, a piece so crucial to you Makarov might as well have ripped your heart out and left you to bleed pathetically on the cold floor of the underground tunnel.

You're sobbing so loud you don't even hear the polite knock on the door, eyes screwed shut tightly, sealed by the tears that come flowing down like a broken dam. You don't register anything going on around you until you feel a bare hand on your cheek, vision blurry, yet you can recognize that burly figure anywhere— Simon. You don't do anything other than to keep sobbing, pressing the journal closer to your chest, maybe hoping it'll start sinking into your skin and will allow you to have a part of Johnny within you.

"I'm here, love." He whispers softly, his tone more gentle than anything you've ever heard. He slowly lays in bed with you and brings you closer to his chest, not minding the mess of saliva, tears, and snot now staining his shirt.

"Somethin' to keep your heart safe." He pressed something cold into your hand— Soap's dog tags. You instantly hold them tightly, using them as a lifeline to stay with it. Simon presses a soft kiss against your forehead before his hand presses on the back of your head, holding you even closer, allowing you to cry on him.

"Johnny had the braid you gave him with him all the time, did ya know? Kept it tucked away in his jacket. I r'member him talkin' about it all the time, braggin' about how you gave 'im that." A small chuckle escapes your lips for the first time ever since he died, the sound full of pain and bitterness, yet it was something. It gave Simon all the confirmation he needed to keep talking.

"He kept everythin' you gave 'im. If it wasn't the bloody braid, it was a picture. If it wasn't one of those... it was a letter." And you know it was true. You've read his journal for what feels like hundreds of times, some of the letters you gave him were tucked away in pages with drawings of you. If a letter wasn't there, it was one of the many polaroids he had of you. Some alone, some together, some with the entire task force, including a masked Ghost.

Your throat is too sore from sobbing, you couldn't even speak if you wanted to, so you simply nod while laying your head against his chest. There's something about Simon that has always glued you together— something about the man who, even when you didn't get along at first, gave you an odd sense of comfort. Perhaps it's his smell, perhaps his voice, and maybe even his soul, that always seems to be one with yours.

"For Johnny, 't was a reminder that he was never alone." He kisses your forehead again, one of his hands gently massaging your scalp while the other one rubs up and down your back, spreading the warmth of his hand all over your trembling body.

You remember the exact same moment you gave him that braid. A protection braid made with a small strand of the bottom of your hair, sealed with words of affirmation and wishes of the future, a few months after your relationship with the men started. Love. Survival. Companionship.

"When we..." You began, voice wavering and weak, yet it had Simon's full focus. "When we scatter his ashes, can you do me a favor?" He'd do anything for you.

At 15:30, the 141 arrived at the cliff. You're all stuck in silence for a few minutes, mourning in your own ways while looking at the sunset and the ocean below you. The view is nothing short of breathtaking, yet the heartbreak is too great to fully appreciate it. You can't help but think Johnny would have loved this view, but the thought is quickly interrupted.

"He was the best of us." Price says, gravely voice growing even deeper at the pain of losing such an important part of his soul.

"The toughest." Gaz continues, looking into the ocean.

"He'd've fought the world bare handed..." Simon replies and all you can do is look into the water, trying your best to hold it together. Simon leans down, grabbing the urn from his backpack. He holds it up and you all put your hands on it, holding a part of Johnny for the last time.

"Who dares wins..." And win he did. At the very least, Johnny found a family.

"Sleep easy, soldier." More than a soldier, Johnny was the son he never had.

"See you down range, brother... we'll take it from here."

"Rest easy, my friend. You’ll never be forgotten." You fought off the urge to call him your love, your soulmate, yet they all knew what was in your mind.

"Rest in peace, Johnny." The words barely came out of his lips. It was like losing Tommy all over again. Simon opens the urn and lets the wind take Johnny's ashes, flying away, freeing his soul. You all look at him go and you manage to let a small smile take over your lips, watching proudly as he flies away, despite knowing he took a part of your soul with him.

Simon and you stay behind, knowing Price and Gaz will be waiting in the car for you. You slowly sink down to your knees, hands resting on your lap. It doesn't take long before Simon kneels behind you, hands gathering your hair before he begins to braid.

Revenge. Death. Vengeance.

His free hand pulls out a combat knife that belonged to Soap, lining up the razor sharp blade to your hair. With one smooth motion, he slides through the hair easily, letting the now shoulder length strands fall free. He places the braid on your lap and you look down at it, eventually letting the hair go down the cliff the same way you let go of Johnny.

You never let go of grief— you grow around it. And despite the agony your soul is in, you know these three men will do anything for you, the same way you'll do anything for them.

[issuesntissues]

when 141 accidentally breaks/ruins something of yours 😬

Price

you'd just finished a drawing you spent hours on, and ran to show price! (he was very proud, gave you one of his rare smiles)

you said you'd go to the restroom for a moment, and left the paper on his desk

as he picked it up to admire it once more, he knocked over his coffee mug, and cursed as the brown liquid spread all over the page

immediately as he grasped it the soggy page tore, and the ink blurred together into a black mess

when you came back he looked downright embarrassed, his face and ear tips red

"spilled my damn coffee all over it...sorry love..."

you tell him its no big deal, but he can see the tears welling in your eyes

his pursed lips and downcast expression made your heart ache, and you gave him a genuine arm pat, pulling yourself together

he promised the next drawing you made would be framed in his office for him to look at everyday 🫶

Ghost

You’d shown him the brand new sun glasses you ordered, and he definitely approved

you were curious about how they’d look on him so you handed him the pair

he took them, squinting as he turned them around in his hands, then attempted to put them over his mask

with a loud snap! the frames fell apart, pieces clinking on the floor below

“oh, fuck me…sorry darling…” he sounded slightly embarrassed as he handed the broken glasses back to you

you brushed it off as an accident, but you were disappointed you didn’t get to wear them for very long

ghost meanwhile felt horrible, and it nagged in the back of his brain for the whole day

he gives you one of his own pairs later, and you took them happily, promising to take good care of them 🫶

he thinks you look hot asf with them on too

Soap

you just finished unwrapping a new favorite mug for your collection, and set it on a table for display

while you went off to do something in another room, soap decides to handle your new item, tracing the intricate engravings in the ceramic

as you returned, he spoke, "aye this is nice...where'd you get—" he didn't get to finish as while he tried swapping the mug to his other hand, he fumbled it, and it went shattering all over the flooring below

your face immediately scrunched up in despair and soap grimaced

"hells fuckin' bells bonnie, im sorry." he cursed, his accent thicker from his embarrassment

he kneeled to start picking up the pieces, and you noticed little shards cutting into his skin but he didn't complain, and so you helped him

afterwards you clean and bandage up his hand, and after more apologies, he promised he'd get you a new mug 🫶

Gaz

gaz isnt prone to breaking a lot of things; he's very careful & self aware. but alas, he isn't perfect

you'd just finished a puzzle in the break room and you were super excited to show the task force

Gaz was the most impressed and excited, and then—

"hey! have you ever tried picking it up in one piece?" oh no—

as soon as he attempted, the puzzle fell apart immediately, the pieces clattering all over the floor

you bit your lip and attempted not to cry, but your body betrayed you, and the fat tears rolled down your cheeks

after being scolded by the team for a good half an hour, he spent days putting that puzzle back together just for you,,

swore he'd never ever make you cry again

he framed the puzzle afterwards ❤️

[aardvaark]

only murders in the building s3e8 spoilers ahead!

this is the best photo i could get of the strips of paper that have been pieced together so far. all we can see is:

"02/16/2023

mmence on

sion, and

until and

(line gap)

society,

performing

composer

however,

right to

where it"

now that’s… fairly vague, lol. not too much to be gathered, except that it relates to the play itself - words like "performing" and "composer" seem to show that. in other words, it’s probably not the autopsy report or someone’s diary. the first unfinished word is probably "commence". this makes it sound formal. again, unlikely to be a diary or a letter to a close friend or something.

so what could it be? personally, my current standing theory is that it’s Maxine’s review. i have a few reasons for this:

we know that Maxine has written a review. yes, she was originally writing by hand and her pen ran out of ink, but she mentions in episode 2 that it was some of her best writing which sounds like she had finished it later, plus it’s her job to write these reviews, im sure she must have finished it. and so there exists a "vitriolic" absolute pan of the play somewhere. one that we’ve never seen and which Maxine didn’t show to Oliver. maybe we can’t see it because it’s been shredded.

the language, from the small bits we can see, would make sense for a review. first she states when the play "commences" for its opening night. then she reviews the various elements of the play, such as the "performing" and notes things like who the "composer" is and whether they did a good job. the word "however" makes me think that the writer is giving some sort of a negative opinion there. which, you know, is what the review is.

Maxine is a character we were introduced to in the second episode but really haven’t explored. i don’t necessarily think she is the murderer; in fact, i can’t even think of a motive she’d have. but, i think they introduced her for a reason.

a scathing review could absolutely generate anger or violence in someone. imagine you’ve put your heart and soul into your performance or crew role for months, only to get insulted and for the show to be an utter failure. it could mean the end of your career or the loss of a lot of money.

but even if it is Maxine’s review, and even if someone was upset by it, why would that lead to Ben’s death? i do have a theory for that. it might not be the correct one, but it’s my best shot at the moment:

Cliff and Donna (the mother and son producer people) have repeatedly expressed that this play is high stakes for them. it’s Cliff’s producing debut and they need it to be perfect. the problem is, the show was far from perfect - something that they may have already realised to an extent, but which that pan confirmed. plus, a terrible review by a famous reviewer would lose them money and reputation. if one or both of them got their hands on Maxine’s review, it makes sense that they’d destroy it and want to put an end to the show in a way that can’t be blamed on them. an accidental death on stage - with the autopsy report altered to day there wasn’t any poison, and we know it was altered cause it was negative for meth - would solve their problem, as well as draw them a lot of press attention (any publicity is good publicity), and finally, would prevent the review from ever being published because no one would publish a scathing review of a recently deceased young man’s performance. i can imagine that the producers would have access to and knowledge about the set and theatre, which would allow for the spooky ghost stuff that seemed like more than a coincidence in "Ghost Light". they’d also have access to Ben’s room to plant the poison cookies (because c’mon, he was clearly talking to a plate of cookies in the dressing room video).

additionally, Donna’s speech to Loretta in the bathroom makes me suspect her more. and Loretta’s song, while clearly more about sacrificing herself for her own son in that moment, could double as meaning that Donna would kill for Cliff’s sake to protect his reputation in the industry. and as Loretta says, poisoning as a murder method tends to point to a woman murderer - this is actually true according to data on homicides. Donna is a woman, she would do anything for her son, the review would ruin his reputation in her mind, she poisons Ben to end the play.

then there’s Ben’s apologies in episode 1. to Cliff… well, he forgets Cliff’s name for one thing, and then he basically just says he’s sorry for being so annoying to them and complaining about his dressing room. then he continues to complain about his dressing room before moving on.

while Donna may have done the first murder, i don’t think she did the second. perhaps it was Cliff, pissed at his non-apology and wishing the man was dead for real. perhaps it was someone else entirely (probably a man since they haven’t had a male murderer so far and have even pointed that out).

but again, this is still a very loose theory based solely on the possibility that that document is the review. what else do y’all think it could be? or what else could have happened if it is indeed the review?

[bullet-prooflove]

Polaroid: Bottles x Reader

Tagging: @darqchilddaydreamz @librarian1002 @prettyinpunk85 @thanossexual @proceduralpassion @crazy4chickennuggets @callsignartemis @kmc1989 @littlestroman @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @lunamoon

It isn’t until you’re going through Bottles’ wallet looking for a couple of dollars for the takeout that you come across the polaroid from the community BBQ. There had been a guy going around taking snapshots with his polaroid camera to sell. You’d forgotten about it completely until this moment.

The two of you are sitting side by side on the picnic bench, Bottles’ arm slung around your shoulders, a beer in his hand and a paper cup in yours. You remembered that it wasn’t long after that that he had kissed you on your doorstep, that he’d made love to you until the early hours of the morning, drawing out your pleasure until you combusted like star.

You hear the bathroom door open behind you and glance over your shoulder to see him clad in one of your sage-coloured towels and nothing else. It hangs low on his hips, the beads of moisture rolling down his muscular chest as he steps towards you.

“What did you find?” He asks, using his palm to push the wet hair away from his face. You turn to show him, ass resting against the kitchen table, his wallet still clasped in your hand.

“I had no idea you were so sentimental.” You tell him, with a teasing lilt.

He smiles as he looks down at picture in your hand before he takes it from you and returns it to the safety of his wallet. The two of you have never put a label on the relationship, he thinks you want to, but your history has taught you to tread carefully. He knows that it’s on him to lay his cards out on the table.

“I like having a part of you with me.” He tells you softly as he sets his wallet back down upon the kitchen table. “When I’m having a shitty day, I take it out and it reminds that there’s something good in the world, that I have a woman who loves me as much as I love her.”

You see the honesty in his eyes as he looks at you. There is no doubt in his mind that this is how he feels, and it makes something inside of you soar. Your fingertips trail over the line of his jaw as he leans in close, his body caging you in.

“Christ…”

You can feel the heat rolling off his skin as that wicked grin of his tips up the edges of his mouth. There’s a heat in his gaze, one that sends a pulse of anticipation rushing through you.

“You wanna fuck me again, don’t you?” He says, his mouth brushing over yours as his hips press into the apex of your thighs, parting them.

He’s hard already, you can feel his erection through the fabric of the towel as he rocks slowly against your molten core, his fists gripping the material of the silk robe you’re wearing.

“So emotional intimacy does it for you.” he teases, his lips ghosting over the corner of your mouth. “I’ll bear it in mind.”

“Say it again.” You request, your fingers seeking out the towel before you undo it completely. It slips from his waist, landing on the tiles underneath his feet.

“I love you sweet girl.” He whispers against your lips as he unties the belt of your robe. It falls open, revealing your naked form underneath. He uses gentle palms to push the fabric down over your shoulders until you’re completely bare for him.  “Now let me show you how much.”

Love Bottles? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[sn4pozu]

my headcanons of Eddie Gluskin if he had a twitter :

he'd repost those RETVRN incel trad memes where its like a woman doing house chores & man doing job stuff

would get into arguments with a woman and subscribe to her onlyfans at the same time (gets mad when blocked)

tries to be professional and a know-it-all but also his entire likes tab is porn (he doesnt know it shows publicly)

calls someone a whore & drops a bible verse in the same thread arguing with them

idk if he'd be delighted with minion memes or viscerally hate them

USES DISNEY REACTION GIFS WITH NO SHAME , USES A CRYING STITCH GIF AT A DODO VIDEO OF A DOG DYING

If twitter bans his account mid argument he'd flip the fuck out and make 3 gmails & alts at the same hour

100% posts creepy comments under peoples post and gets upset if it gets hidden

flirts so much you'd think hes a bot but no he's just sending random women his number (does he care if they're married or not is completely dependant on his mood)

uses the nice guy card whenever shit starts going south

he gets doxxed he goes like "that's not me" (lies, is scared)

either that or he lashes out and start sending them death threats who knows

menace with the twitter Voice Note feature

not even a mutual KYS no hes going to write out his whole murder fantasy in a person's DMs and blocks them before they could respond

gets IP banned on twitter like, weekly, he just figures out VPN apps and finds a way to harrass people constantly

media tab is his breakfast and someones mutilated genitals, bi-weekly photo updates maybe

im not saying he would complain about hairloss but he would complain about hairloss

"i got declined by the pharmacist for asthma medication, fucking bitch *insert something mysogonistic*"

thinks bitcoin is stupid and not a real "manly job" so he dogs on them pretty horribly

thinks tech jobs are for NERDS and says it outloud whenever them NFT bros are commenting under his shit attacking him for calling them nerds

Cracked phone screen with blood in the cracks (he tried to clean it with soapy water on a towel but it just ruined the lcd now its forever stained yellow) ((free bluescreen eye protector mode ?)) (((also has to violently tap the home button because its already broken & that part of the screen died))) ((((has an odd smell))))

he wishes he'd have glasses for the phone screen but all he does is squint

would post dress updates though <3 maybe retweets sewing patterns and videos of old women knitting and go "my grandmother used to do that pattern, ❤️ Wow."

goes back to shitting on women

*posts black coffee with 2 fruitflies in it* "A Good Way To Start A Morning ☕"

posts half eaten food and the dirty plate and would be like "Delicious food today 😋 i almost forgot to pots." -- deletes & reposts because of the typo. PEOPLE CANNOT THINK HE'S WEAK.

His vest would 100% be posted on those gimmick accounts and gets picked on for it being crusty & grody 😔

DMs like multiple women at the same time and either gets immediately blocked or ghosted after a face reveal

he Has cried because of twitter comments before, never again......

has twitter warning threads made of him and has tried to draw a stupid fucking wojack on paper with pencil & pen because he doesnt know how to edit photos but he still wants to own the haters

posts gore to own the haters as well and then got mass reported to death when people found 0 similar images of the gore he posted

'A Thread On @/Eddie287367927 TW: Gore, Mutilation, Harassment, Transphobia, Misogyny'

probably had a youtube documentary made about his twitter acc and all the drama he got himself into (either by accident or for fun)

ok this idea kinda came up to me after i saw a trad meme come up on my tl and i just HAD to dump this all out somewhere

[4acoffee]

A voice in the back of his head tells him that he's never cared before exactly how many words a girl says to him, and he promptly tells said voice to shut the fuck up.

pairing. bakugou x reader

word count. 2.8k words

genre & warnings. fluff, pining but he doesn't realize it, baku in some serious denial, swearing (lot's)

notes. jusus FUCKING christ. im SO glad to be done with this you have no idea. It's been in the works for like three months I'm so done with this fic. pls lemme know if u like it if this flops ill cry. also sorry i havn't posted in like forever im a loser i know.

Katsuki Bakugou does not have crushes.

Crushes, were for stupid schoolboys and stupid girls.

Like you.

Yea, — if anyone had a crush, it had to be you. That's why you only smiled at him when he was looking at you. It's why you never tried to make eye-contact with him during class. It's why you never talk to him outside of class, and always walk on the other side of the hallway, and laugh at shitty hair's lame jokes.

There's no way someone like him, would like anyone like you.

Raccoon eyes was an idiot for even putting such an absurd thought in his head.

And it all started because he ran out of those stupid pencils.

Which was those dumbass's fault too. That week, dunce face broke all his pencils trying to do a ghost summoning trick in class and begged him to let him borrow one of his pencils. Which was annoying, but not a big deal because he's Katsuki and he was always fucking prepared.

But then, raccoon eyes lost her shit at the ugly grape fuck during class, and accidentally dissolved her only pencil in a fit of rage. Which meant he lost another one to her.

And then that same week, shitty hair was testing out his strength in class on pencils, snapping them in half with and without his quirk, he lost five pencils to his useless antics.

So by the time Friday rolled around, he had just one mechanical pencil left to get him through the day. Which would have been fine, ― if he didn't run out of lead right in the middle of fucking English class.

Now, he could have asked the teacher for a pencil, but she was this dusty, old hag, and Katsuki was known in his class for aggravating her to the point where her veins popped out on her face, and she would screech at him like a mad banshee. And Katsuki would rather pull out his own nails and stick them in his eyeballs like push-pins, than face the lecture she would no doubt give him if she found out he had come to class "unprepared".

So now, he was stuck, pissed off at everyone, multiple writing assignments to finish, a professor who never liked him, zero patience, and completely lacking in pencils.

Fuck his life.

And the day would have only gotten worse, if it wasn't for you.

He doesn't know how you knew that he needed a pencil. Then again, since you so clearly liked him, you must have been watching him all the time. You must have seen the miffed look on his face and noticed how he was furiously clicking his pencil for any lead.

Most people who didn't know him personally tended to steer clear of him for the most part. So needless to say, he was mildly surprised when small, quiet, you — tapped his desk with your little ink covered fingers.

You never spoke out much in class, and Katsuki only knew you as the voiceless girl who sat next to him in class and constantly kept at least one earbud in, drawing on your hands or doodling on the corner of your paper when the teacher was talking.

He figured it would be a miracle if you were even passing this class.

But when he turned to you with narrowed eyes, you held his gaze carefully, and held out a new pencil to him.

At first, he's less than pleased, ― Katsuki wasn't gonna just accept help from some random extra.

But you shook the pencil at him, urging him to take it, and he once again meets your eyes, ― long enough to realize that you had to be one of the prettiest girls he's ever met.

Brilliant, and mildly amused, your gaze held a sense of thinly veiled curiosity that peeked through the serene look on your face. There's a small smudge of blue ink on your forehead that pisses him off a little more for how much more endearing it makes you. You tilt your head and the sun peeking out from behind you makes the metal of your earrings flicker, catching his attention like a cat to a laser pointer ― the golden rays cast small shadows down the curve of your cheeks from your eyelashes and, and ―

― and he had been staring for way to long.

Scowling, he snatched the pencil out of your grasp and turned to his assignment, pretending to read the instructions. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw you curl over your own paper and get back to work.

For the rest of class, he stole small, fleeting glances at your focused form.

He decided that he absolutely hated the way your hair looked glossy and soft in the light filtering through the window. And the way you tapped your foot on the floor to the beat of whatever music you listened to, and the intricate designs you often drew on your hands, slightly smudged where your fingers held your own pencil.

The bell signaling the end of class snapped him out of his stupor and he angrily stood up, sending his chair back with the force and shoving papers in his bag.

He's half way down the hallway to his next class when he realizes he's still holding your pencil.

He stares down at it with a glare and considers throwing it in the trash for a second.

Your face pops in his head for a second, (rather rudely, and unnecessarily if he might add), and he grimaces before shoving it haphazardly somewhere behind him in his bag.

.

The next day, Bakugou stomps over to class, fully restocked with his own pencils.

He sits down in his usual seat and glances at you without thinking. You were reading the board at the front of the class, but you turned your head to him when you felt his gaze on you.

His slouching position immediately straightened at a backbreaking speed like a soldier at attention.

Instantly, he wanted to howitzer himself into the next dimension.

What was he so damn jumpy for??

He fixed you with a defensive glare, like his ears didn't feel so annoyingly hot, "What!? Hah? I don't need your stupid pencils today. " he bit out.

You squinted at him, and his annoyance only heightened when he noticed the way your lips twitched upwards in amusement.

Did you think he was fucking funny or something?

"Ah, ― ok." You replied.

He twitched in his seat as he watched you turn your attention away from him and to something on your phone.

That was it?

That was fucking it?

He accepts your help one time and suddenly you can't spare him more than a fucking two word reply?

A voice in the back of his head tells him that he's never cared before exactly how many words a girl says to him, and he promptly tells said voice to shut the fuck up.

He glowers for the rest of class and makes it a point to not even glance in your general direction.

This works more or less to his favor for a few days, until he starts seeing you show up around him and everywhere outside of his class.

The moment he sees your eyes turn in his direction in the hallways, he swivels his head away so fast he nearly gets whiplash from the force.

Your outside after school waiting for a ride, and his carefully neutral expression turns sour when you don't even look up from your phone when he walks stiffly in front of you.

He catches you make icy hot crack a smile with some stupid joke in the lunch line, and he almost combusts into a nuclear explosion on the spot when he sees you ruffle his hair affectionately. How, and why the fuck were you acting so familiar with that damn candy-cane bastard?

The annoying voice in his head from before prompts him to go and place himself between the two of you, ― a physical divider ― but he immediately brushes it off again. He chastises himself for even allowing such ridiculous thoughts to enter his head over a useless extra like you.

.

Unfortunately, Katsuki in time comes to find that you’re not as useless as you seem.

As raccoon-eyes eventually manages to drag you into their tight knit group of friends, he begrudgingly realizes that there is much more to you than just ink covered fingers and pretty eyes.

You're one of the top students at the school. Picking up things easily, you don't pay much attention in school because you prefer to and work better doing things in your own time. You, however, make a horrible teacher, and any attempts to tutor his so called friends in any subject, end in more jokes cracked than brains, and it's all too easy for you to dissolve into half giggles and smart remarks with them.

Your also, a little shit, he discovers, much to his chagrin.

"I still can't believe you go to bed at 8:30 like an old man."

The sly gleam of your eye when you join forces with his friends to tease him makes him want to slap his hands directly over your stupid eyes because he hates the way he's so automatically drawn to them.

And that stupid fucking twitch of your lips whenever he speaks to you. Like your trying to hold back a smile. Why the fuck do you do that. The fuck is wrong with you. Just smile like a normal person dammit.

So fucking distracting.

Especially when he starts bringing you new, colorful pens for you to draw with for when yours run out of ink. And the wipes he keeps stored in his bag for the teachers that kept threatening to email your parents if they saw you drawing on yourself during class.

God, you had to be the worst thing that's ever happened to him.

Which he swears up and down is the only thought running through his head as he sits next to you at the library with his chin in his hands.

Definitely nothing having to do with the fading sun weaving through your hair in strands of gold, or the plush of your lips when you bite into them distractedly.

And your godamn eyes. Calm, sweet little almond eyes, so, ― pretty.

(Seriously, when the fuck did he start using words like "pretty").

It takes him a second to sense that said eyes were now focused on him. Unwavering and almost downright pleased in a way that made his hands clam up and saliva build up in his mouth.

"Hey Bakugou, you in there?" You ask cheekily.

He bites back a snarl, "Fuck off, tiny."

You raise your hands in mock surrender. "Ok, Ok, ― just making sure we didn't lose you into the void, you were looking pretty intense there."

"Shuddup I was just thinking."

"About me?"

"No, what the fuck?!" He seethes, ignoring the librarian who sent him a stern look from her desk.

You snicker and he almost jolts out of his seat when you scoot your chair way too close to him.

You jostle his feet under the table and he kicked back impulsively. What he wasn't expecting, was for you to purposefully tangle your legs together, pulling yourself to the very edge of your seat.

Suddenly your face is right in front of his and he stiffens when you twist your fingers into the sleeve of his school uniform.

"Aw, you don't like me then?"

He absolutely hates the way he can hear the blood pumping into his ears.

"No, I fucking hate you. I can barely stand being around you." he bites out somehow.

He's taken back for a second from how fake the words sound even to himself.

"..."

"Oh."

Suddenly, you turn your eyes away from him and to your lap, lowering your eyebrows. Your lips fall into a deep pout that leaves him wanting to smush your cheeks together in his hands.

You look utterly crestfallen.

"That's kinda mean yunno." You say to him softly. "I really thought you liked me Bakugou."

He blinks at you in alarm.

He wasn't actually expecting you to take him seriously. You never do any other time. You knew there was hardly ever any real malice behind his words to his friends.

Right?

"It's ok if you don't, I understand. But, uh, I'm gonna go home now." You say quietly, without meeting his eyes.

Shit, ― he thought.

Did I, actually go too far?

You remove your fingers from his sleeve and make to grab your things to leave.

He panics, he couldn't let you go like this!

Frantically, he grabs your hand and pulls you close to him.

"The fuck are you talking about?! Are you really that stupid?"

You look at him sullenly and try to pull away. He doesn't let go, but stands up to keep you pushed against the table.

Katsuki is reeling at the feeling of your skin under his, but tries to keep himself focused on the situation.

"Of course I fucking like you, dumbass." He nearly growls without meeting your gaze.

"I always buy you shit and make you food don't I? You think I'd spend my money and time on ya' if I didn't like you." Katsuki grumbled.

He can't believe what he's about to say.

"Thoughtcha' already knew you were my favorite." He mutters.

He down at you and freezes on the spot.

You have the most shit-eating look he's ever seen in his life on your face, and he later swears left and right to himself that he spots the slightest flush spreading across your cheeks.

Your goddamn eyes are once again so fuckin bright and he can barely process anything else with the way you're smiling at him.

"Bakugou,―i'm your favorite?!" You blurt out.

"I knew it! I can't believe I got you to admit it!!" You said horribly happily.

Katsuki stares at you in disbelief. Was that all a fucking act?

Your positively glowing now and Katsuki wants nothing more than to slap himself for falling for your stupid tricks again. How fucking dare you use your goddamn face against him like that. You were just playing with his feelings at this point.

He's about to tear his hand off your arm in a fit of anger when you pause your giggling and suddenly grab him by the collar of his uniform and bring his ear right next to your lips.

"Yunno, ― your my favorite too ok? Don't forget that." You whisper conspiratorially.

Your breath on his skin makes him nearly tremble, and he just knows that you can feel how hot his face his when you press your lips to his cheek in a chaste kiss before pulling away to grab your things and disappear just as quickly.

Katsuki is sure that he probably looks like he just got hit by a train.

A dazed grin makes its way onto his face that he desperately tries to hold back, but fails as his fingers brush the spot where your lips just were.

All at once the feeling fades when his eyes meet the absolutely delighted looks of his friends from across the library.

They make all sorts of kissy faces and obscene gestures that has his face looking the same color as his ruby eyes.

He scowls deeply and turns to angrily make his way out of the library.

As he passes a window, he pauses when he catches sight of your figure walking across the campus.

Ink-covered fingers pressed to your lips.

-

If there's one thing most people don't know about Bakugou's friends, it's just how perceptive they really are. Their normally aloof and carefree behavior seems to veil the fact that they are indeed future heroes and they have trained to be finely tuned to each others behavior.

So it didn't take long for them to notice a shift in the actions of their angry blonde friend.

It took even less time to connect the dots to you.

And naturally, ― they began scheming.

Perhaps not scheming per say, ― as they watched Bakugou zone out in your direction for the nth time that day at the library, Mina smacked Denki over the head one day for using that word.

"We're not scheming anything Denks." she whispered.

"Then why are we whispering?" He muttered back, rubbing his head with a grimace.

She sighed deeply and massaged her temples.

"We just need a way to get him to realize that he's feeling an emotion outside of acute bloodlust and anger for once." she explained.

"So then what, do we like, plot an intervention or something?" Sero supplied.

Mina, for what seemed like the hundredth time that day, with great effort, resisted the urge to send an acid quirk infused slap in his way.

Sensing this, Kirishima was quick to pipe in, "C'mon guys, nothing like that, Bakubro just need a little push in the right direction, is all."

Mina nodded in approval.

"Blasty's smart, he'll understand what needs to be done once he works out his feelings. Hopefully."

A mummer of understanding passed through most of the group.

Sitting up straight and cracking her knuckles, Mina whipped out a pen and piece of paper like a weapon, "Alright boys, don't worry, your girls got just the plan."

Kaminari made a face like he just struck gold.

"Ohhhh! Okay. So we're planning an intervention."

"For FUCKS SAKE―"

masterlist

[foggyforest4169]

'𝙿𝚊𝚢 𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝙿𝚛𝚒𝚟𝚊𝚝𝚎' 𝚂𝚒𝚖𝚘𝚗 '𝚐𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚝' 𝚁𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚢 𝚡 𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚌!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

Summery: You're a sniper for task force 141 and there has been rumours going around about you and Ghost

A/N: Im doing this for my fellow gay ghost lovers since I can barely find any male reader fics. This is also my first so enjoy!

Sitting in a watch tower can be really understimulating; especially when you can't see nor hear any action, no gun shots, no screams from people being stabbed or killed, no flashes from grenades... nothing. You duck my head down and pick up the newspaper that was left here last time, reading about all he horrors in the world and wondering about where we may be placed next. The force had speculated turkey will be where the next mission to stop some sort of gang. You hid in your little nest of sand bags and cement blocks flipping through the paper, filled with celebrity gossip.

Footstep track closer and the newspaper is thrown to the side as if it would disappear

"Pay attention private, you'd be dead if i was an enemy"

Ghost says in his usual gruff voice as he creeps into your watch tower, blood splattered on his mask and uniform, holes littered all over where the bulletproof vest deflected any sort of bullet or stabbing attempts.

"I heard you come up LT" you tried to argue back

"That's because i wanted you to hear me" He says settling down next to you in the sand bag nest. He was right you've seen firsthand how slick he could be on the battlefield, he got the name ghost for a reason, deadly silence until he was on target and could commence with his lethal attack

Either way his company was much welcome, he warmed you up as you crammed in the small nest. He rested his hand on your thigh... this is strange, Ghost has never been a touchy person but recently hes been doing small gestures like this especially when people were around

"Sir, if you keep doing this then then there'll just be more rumours" you say turning from the sniper so you can look at him, his facial expression unreadable because of his mask

"Didn't I just tell you to pay attention?!" He says annoyed "You're still on duty, now keep a look out"

You look back in your scope and carry on the conversation "Do you even know about the rumours?"

Ghost kept to himself, he loved his crew but wasn't a very gossipy guy unlike Soap and Alejandro. The only time he really gossiped is when he was shit face drunk

"About?"

"Us. You being attracted to me like flies on shit with the leg grabbing or trying to hold my hand or the post it note sketches of your mask you keep leaving on my desk... I even heard Soap speaking about our night in mexico..." I say pulling the trigger and watching the bullet fly through his skull and his body slap the floor

"Ah those rumours..." He grabs your jaw pulling it away from the gun for a moment "I made them up shithead, I started them all" You could here the smirk in his voice as he spoke. He lets go of your jaw but you carry on staring at him, dumbfounded at what he just told you... Why would he bring that up... who did he tell... how the fuck did it spread so fast??

"What?! Why?!" you semi shout, trying to keep your cover

"For the last fucking time Y/N, keep alert and be quiet!" You roll your eyes playfully and carry on looking around again "I did it so none of the other twats try hit on you because you clearly haven't seen the way they look at you. Originally, I just told johnny because I know he likes to gossip. That's why no one 100% believed it until I started being more touchy and leaving the drawings" The smirk lining his voice but how with a hint of jealousy

"Did you have to be 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 detailed with mexico though?" you say trying to hide your face so he couldn't see the blush when you thought back to that night

"Details make the juicer darling" He teases as he pulls up his mask and kisses you on your cheek "Plus it was pretty fucking impressive" You can feel his arm wrap around your waist as he chuckles in your ear "I think were done here, come on"

He helps you out of your nest and the two of you go back to base.

[my-darling-boy]

how do you do your photo sessions? is it just you and your camera or is someone else taking photos ? theyre all so cool and im rlly curious as to how you do it !!!!!!

I’m so glad someone finally asked this, I was just talking about this with someone and honestly it is SO funny.

The trick is: as long as you’ve got a camera, luck, and at least one tripod—along with understanding of some basic photography and a good imagination—you can do a LOT. I’m known for having whacky set ups! My sister helps me with them when I can’t do them all myself and let me tell you, we’ve come up with some weird things. I’ve been teaching my sister what I know about photography and film over the years, so she’s been a big help getting my own photos done, and in return I do ones for her.

In most of my photos, I’m in the bathroom. I don’t care what you think you see, I’m probably in the bathroom. Bathrooms have great lighting most of the time, and our bathroom has a skylight which is great natural lighting. If you don’t have access to a lot of professional lighting, setting up rigs in front of windows is great. I love using everyday objects and making them look ambiguous to suit my needs for a different object. My “halo” is literally a paper plate. I’m wearing a pillowcase. I set up the camera, my sister just had to check my positioning and lighting and click the button since I don’t have a remote.

Again, I am in the bathroom. I’m still sitting on top of a counter. This one, we stacked some boxes haphazardly and put our lighting on top, which is usually this really bright survivalist lantern. I also taped a clip lamp to a tripod. My sister was standing on the opposite bathroom counter. It was so hot in there so I was in shorts and thigh highs, but you wouldn’t know that just by the photo

I was in my bedroom for this one! A couple of tripods, an edited background, and a suggestive expression was all I needed to make this look like the Lieutenant and I were having a Good Time in his trench lodgings. If you don’t have an actual historical object like a swagger stick, a wooden spoon with a thimble on the end works too (as I found out). If you get creative enough, there are tons of objects and clothing you can fake. And yes my phone mount for the tripod is literally a macaron box I fashioned to hold my phone

This is a great example of knowing how to frame your subject. We loved the treeline in the back garden because it resembled being out in nature, but we have a rather unattractive space out there surrounding it. To solve this, I got up on a high stool and my sister knelt down below and shot the photo from the nearer the ground. You would never know just out of frame was a garage, a trash heap, a shed, a truck, and other suburban houses.

I’ll let you take a guess as to where I’m at for this one.... yes it’s the bathroom again. This time I’m by this awkward corner on the floor near the tub. We stacked a hamper on top of the tub and rolled some foam into a cone to direct lighting from a phone and lantern at my face. There was no angle to take the photo without running into the tub or shower so my sister had to take it in the tub. My knees and abs were killing me cos I had to half-kneel for the position, and strain my eyes to look up. There was also a low tripod behind me to drape my “mantle” over to keep it from falling flat against my back.

I don’t even know how to explain this one and I couldn’t even fit it all in the drawing. We got in front of the downstairs window, hung the same white bedsheet I use so much from the ceiling, I knelt on a chair, and I set up the tripod just out of frame in that drawing. We basically gathered every lamp we could reasonably put in the window sill and took the shades off two tall lamps or optimal lighting. I taped bee magnets to my skin. The “clouds” are actually just pulled apart cotton balls taped to a straw and held in various positions in front of the lens. Perfect perspective play.

An honourable mention was my audio set up for my October ghost video.

I don’t have professional audio equipment aside from a Yeti mic, so we had to get creative with how we would get the mic close enough to the subject. Yes, that is a tripod duct taped to another tripod and counter weighted by a bag of books. My mic is literally screwed into a socket it’s not supposed to even be in on the end of the tripod and the cord for it wouldn’t reach the couch to my laptop so I had to stack a stool on a chair next to this incredible contraption with the laptop on top so it could reach. How this entire thing did not collapse at any point is beyond me. (Can you tell I love tape and lamps?)

For photo editing programs, I hate editing on the computer and I will eat my own shoes before I give Adobe any of my money, so I use Enlight and Afterlight 2 from the App Store on my phone, and also FaceTune for certain face corrections. Afterlight 2 has a filter called “Himalaya” which is VERY similar to how 1880s-1920s photos looked and the app has plenty of dust overlays to make your photo look old. Enlight I use for broader ranges of image correction and background editing. Some examples of old photos I’ve done with a combination of those apps:

My sister and I are very resourceful and creative whenever we do these things. I don’t have any formal training in photography, I just have a vision of what I want and I try to do what I can to achieve it. I’ve had photographers with masters degrees in photography tell me it’s astounding I’ve been able to achieve photo results that rival their own with what limited resources I had while they had access to everything under the sun at their uni.

In short, all I really do is pull out my camera and some tripods and other makeshift items with a photoset in my mind, and sometimes I burst into my sister’s room standing like “hi welcome to chili’s” if I need some assistance

[turtle-steverogers]

i was thinking but do you know the unsent project? it is this website where you can write a message to your first love that you never sent to them. now imagine steve writing one (or multiple) to bucky after he came out of the ice after nat told him about it... yeah

hello hi anon this broke me and it was too perfect not to turn into a ficlet klafjldskjfalskf thank you

-

Unsent Letters

To:

Steve’s fingers freeze over the keyboard, the cursor blinking at him. It feels like it’s taunting him-- teasing him with the burden of choking out a name. What should he even say? The sender is anonymous, but how many people are named Bucky out there? Would anyone even care?

To: Bu

Steve huffs and backspaces, his hands trembling as he curls them into fists. He isn’t sure what provoked Natasha to tell him about this website. It’s a cruel tease to everything he wishes he could say-- wished he could say before Bucky slipped through his fingers. And now his only option is yelling into an abyss. The text box is black and daunting. He turns it yellow. No, too happy. Green. Yes, that’s fine. Bucky’s favorite color was always green.

His gaze wanders away from the screen of his hefty Dell laptop and out the window of his apartment. DC’s low rising buildings span out in front of him. His gut aches; he misses New York already. But he knows being there would only mangle his soul further, seeing his already alien home torn to shreds by literal space whales. He huffs, thinking of Bucky’s comics. His stories came to life after all. Bucky would have probably vibrated out of his skin if he knew there was other life out there.

To: My astronaut

How’s space treating you? It’s treating me pretty badly, if I’m being honest. If only you could see what it’s done to Brooklyn. I think you’d be pretty mad at it if you knew…

Steve hesitates, reading back over what he’s typed. It’s stupid as hell, and he cringes, but he doesn’t backspace. His fingers find the keys again.

I miss you something awful. I don’t think that even encompasses how much I’m hurting without you. I feel so lost right now-- space is much bigger and scarier than you’d think. I know you’d love it. I wish you could see bits of it, but god, I just want to go home. I want you to come home.

Steve freezes again and finds the screen blurry where tears have welled in his eyes. His jaw clenches as he pictures the way Bucky would laugh at him-- teasing him for his dramatics and ruffling his hair. He wishes he could be there now, rolling his eyes and nudging Steve’s shoulder.

“What’re you upsetting yourself for?” He’d say, gently closing the laptop and coaxing Steve into his arms. “I’m right here, pal.”

And if Steve closes his eyes, he can almost feel Bucky’s warmth enveloping him. But he’s not there. He’s dead, and Steve’s a goddamn ghost, drifting through a future that doesn’t know him.

He opens his eyes and stares at the text box, then clicks submit.

The screen loads, and his message is gone, his pain forever documented in the abyss.

-

For someone who fought aliens two weeks after waking up from his impromptu seventy year sleep, Steve’s life is pretty monotonous. He contemplates this unfortunate fact as he stands in front of his toaster, hair sticking up on the back of his head as he nurses a mug of coffee and waits for his toast to pop.

It’s 5:45 in the morning and he tries to remember a time when he didn’t rise this early. Before the war, perhaps. Though, he’s always been a bit of an early bird. His home life was sporadic to put it lightly and he’d learned from an early age that the sooner he was awake, the better it was for everyone. Vigilance is not a new concept for Steve.

He hasn’t always stayed up late, though. That’s certainly new, and he feels this fact viscerally as he catches sight of his reflection in the microwave. There are bags under his eyes that will be gone by mid-morning thanks to the serum. Dermatologists hate him, Natasha says. Steve thinks he’s pretty lucky that the serum more or less equipped him with a built-in anti-aging agent. His father had started balding by thirty.

His toast pops and he starts a little, blinking blearily at the slightly burnt bread as he pulls it out of the toaster with his thumb and forefinger. He spreads on the same raspberry jam and butter that he uses every morning and tries not to think of how bland it tastes in his mouth as he eats it standing at the counter. Another routine.

He tries not to look at last night’s dishes in the sink as he stacks his plate and silverware on top and doesn’t bother sorting out his hair before pulling on his sneakers and slipping out of his apartment. The sun hasn’t quite risen yet, only the beginning tendrils of light sneaking over the low tops of the DC buildings, and Steve vaguely regrets not grabbing a sweatshirt before he left. It’s not quite Summer yet and the mornings could still get pretty cool.

He’s about to take off down the street when he freezes. Natasha is sitting on the steps of his complex, wearing a pair of pink tinted sunglasses and tossing up and down the keys to her car. Steve blinks, rubs his eyes, then blinks again. Nope. She’s still there.

“Nat?”

Natasha looks up at him and smiles. “Hello.”

Steve shifts, uncomfortable. “Hi. You need something? Is there a mission?”

“No,” Natasha says lightly, standing. “You’re not running this morning, though. Come on, I’m taking you to Starbucks.”

“What?”

“Starbucks. You’re going to try it.”

“I don’t want--”

“Steve, you do the same thing every day. Step out of your comfort zone a little.”

Steve frowns, but Natasha’s right-- he really doesn’t ever stray from his routine.

“Fine,” he says, and twenty minutes later, they’re strolling into the nearest Starbucks.

He’s only been in one before, and that was to use the restroom while on a run. He’d bought a water bottle in an attempt to not be rude and use their facilities without giving them any business, but he hadn’t even considered the expansive menu. All the fancy names were too daunting.

They’re just as daunting now as he stares up at the board, heart hammering out of his chest as he’s faced with indecision. Natasha takes one look at his face, and reaches out to squeeze his arm.

“I’ll order something for you,” she says. “What kind of coffee do you like?”

Steve gives her a pained look. “Um… just coffee?”

Natasha quirks a smile and orders him something called a caramel macchiato. He’ll take it, he guesses.

The drink is too damn sweet and sugary and he almost gags. Still, he was always told to finish what he was given, so he drinks the whole thing.

-

To: Mr. Sweet Tooth

You’d fucking love it here. Everything is packed with sugar and sweetness-- enough to make even my teeth rot. I had something called a caramel macchiato today and it tasted like someone took your ma’s caramels and condensed them into a cup. I couldn’t stand it, but I know if you were here, you’d want at least twelve. I hope you’re enjoying all the sweets you can up in space.

Love, Mr. Boring

-

Steve’s fingers are stiff and frozen as he works at the straps of his stealth suit. The tangy taste of saltwater still sits heavy on his tongue, and he clenches his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering too harshly as he finally peels off his suit. It’s not much better, being naked, but at least the wet fabric isn’t clinging to him anymore.

The mission had been pretty straightforward until some alien tech managed to blast the quinjet to kingdom come, and they all free-fell straight into the freezing Atlantic.

Steve had managed to keep it together as they took down the goddamn mad scientist that fucked them over, but now that he’s home and alone, he can feel the adrenaline crashing.

He’s shaking from more than just the cold as he draws himself a warm bath, and he pulls his knees up to his chest, trying to breathe through the panic that wants to engulf his entire being.

He loses time for a bit, and comes back to himself lying in his bed, burrowed under several thick layers. He feels so cold, down to his very soul-- a chill that he can never seem to truly shake, even when he’s warm.

Not for the first time, he wishes Bucky were there to hold him. He slips off to sleep thinking old, comforting thoughts of Bucky rubbing his hands between his own, coaxing his head under his chin to engulf him in that natural warmth of his. He always was a fucking furnace.

But when Steve wakes an hour later, shaking hard enough to move the bed with the force of the nightmare he’d dropped into, Bucky is not there to soothe away the ice.

-

To: JB

im so cold and i cant breathe ever and nothing feels right. I dont know what to do, u were always the problem solver between us and i cant think straight right now and i just want you here please. I cant do this anymore, im so tired please come back. I need you please

-

The Winter Soldier file sits in front of Steve-- a horrifying nightmare wrapped up in a neat brown folder. Residual nausea swirls around in his gut as he comes down from the horrible high of reading through the contents. His hands shake where they grasp the thick paper. His heart clenches hard in his chest.

Bucky is alive. Bucky is alive, and he’s been unmade.

Steve doesn’t know where he is-- if he’s escaped, or if Hydra found him again. It’s been three weeks now since the helicarriers, and he’s only just gotten the courage to sit down and wade through the shit that is Bucky’s reality.

He just hopes he’s safe. God, he hopes.

Sam says he’ll help him look, and Steve needs to know he’s at least out of danger, but he barely knows where to start.

And he’s sorry. He’s so fucking sorry.

Blinking out of his reverie, Steve looks at his laptop. He feels strange and detached as he reaches for it and logs in.

To: Bucky

And yes, that feels right. He should use his name, since he suspects no one has for a long, long time.

I’m so sorry for what happened to you. I’m sorry that you’ve been hurting so quietly for so long. I understand if you’re not ready to come home-- I understand if you never are. I just hope that you know that there will always be a place with me that is safe. I love you so much and I’m here, forever and always.

Love, Steve.

He’s not naive. He knows it would be dangerous to submit that particular message, so he doesn’t. But that’s okay. That one’s just for him-- for them.

-

“Steve? What is the… Unsent Project?”

Steve frowns and pokes his head out of the kitchen. Bucky is sitting on the couch in the living room, using his laptop, because his own is having storage issues.

Bucky looks at him. “It’s one of your saved tabs. What is it?”

And oh, fuck. Steve had forgotten to remove that from his homepage-- it really wasn’t needed anymore. He blushes all the way to his ears.

“Oh, it’s-- nothing. Not anything important--”

But Bucky has already clicked on the tab.

“The Unsent Project,” he reads aloud. “A collection of unsent text messages to… first… loves…”

He trails off as he processes what he’s looking at, and Steve can’t quite read his expression when he looks at him again. His eyebrows are furrowed, and he’s looking at Steve like he’s some sort of kicked puppy. Steve shifts, uncomfortable.

“Were you sending me… messages? While I was dead?”

Steve swallows. “Um…” and now that Bucky says it out loud, it really does sound quite sad. He shrugs. “It’s Natasha’s fault?”

Bucky shakes his head, clicking on the search bar. He starts to type his name, but Steve shakes his head.

“I didn’t use your name.”

“Oh,” Bucky says, then frowns at him again. “What did you use?”

Steve blushes harder, sitting next to Bucky and taking the laptop from him.

“Um…” he hesitates, then types what he was sure he used as his first alias.

My astronaut

The screen buffers and loads, then fifty or so messages pop up. Steve scrolls down-- it doesn’t take long to find his.

They’re both quiet as they read, and Steve cringes. Jeez, he really had been pretty dramatic. Next to him, Bucky makes a hurt noise.

“Oh, honey,” he murmurs, taking the laptop back from Steve. He reads the message again, then once more, and reaches out for Steve. “Aw, I’m here now.”

Steve huffs, embarrassed. “I know,” he says. “That was way back, like, three weeks after I woke up.”

Bucky stills. “You fought aliens three weeks after you woke up?”

“... More like two.”

Bucky hums. “Are there others?”

“Yeah,” Steve says, reaching out to type on Bucky’s lap, because Bucky is holding him now and he’s quite reluctant to move. He thinks for a moment, then types in the next one he remembers.

Mr. Sweet Tooth

Bucky laughs, and Steve finds himself smiling.

“I find this funny,” Bucky says. “Because caramel macchiatos are definitely one of my favorites now.”

Steve laughs, too, and butts his head against Bucky’s shoulder.

“If only I could tell that to myself back then-- he’d be thrilled.”

“I’m sure,” Bucky says. “Any more?”

Steve hesitates, thinking of the one he’d sent after that nightmare-- when he was low and hurting. Incoherent. He isn’t sure he wants Bucky to see that particular side of his soul, but Bucky has been more than generous in letting him in on his pains nowaday, and it’s not like Bucky hasn’t witnessed Steve’s own current nightmares.

He bites his lip and types in JB. That seems to yield a lot more results, and it takes a while for Steve to find the message.

He hides his face in Bucky’s neck as he reads. Bucky’s arms gradually tighten around him, and a moment later, he feels him kiss the top of his head.

“Honey, I hate that you were hurting so bad,” Bucky mutters against his hair.

Steve shrugs. “We both were,” he says, and it’s true. There’s something to be said about the guilt they both feel for not being able to save the other person at their lowest, but life hasn’t been kind to them. The vitriol, Steve thinks, should be directed at the goddamn universe for keeping them apart, not themselves for fucking dying. They’re working on it.

Bucky’s quiet for a long time. “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he says. “Is that it?”

Steve shakes his head. “But I never sent the last one.”

“Why not?”

“I wrote it after DC.”

He feels Bucky squeeze him again, and he squeezes back.

“Oh.”

“I just-- I wanted you to know that you didn’t have to come home. That I just wanted you to be safe; needed to know you were safe, but it was up to you. I just needed you to know I was here, if you needed me.”

Bucky pulls back then and cups his face, kissing him soundly. Steve’s surprised for only a moment before he’s kissing back.

“I did know that,” Bucky says against his lips. “I needed time-- I was lost-- but the first thing I knew when I remembered who you were was that you were a safe person, because you’d never force me anywhere.”

Steve kisses him again, then pulls him into a hug. “I’m glad you knew that.” It’s warm, where their chests meet, and Bucky is solid beneath him. Real. He isn’t speaking into an abyss anymore.

-

There’s a sticky note on Bucky’s pillow next to his head when he wakes up the next morning. Steve’s side of the bed is already vacant, and he can’t hear him downstairs. He must have already left for a run.

Propping himself on an elbow, Bucky plucks up the sticky note.

To: My Bucky

Thank you for choosing me to be your home, and thank you forever, for being mine.

I love you with everything I have.

Love, your Steve

Bucky smiles, heart light as he folds the notes. He’ll keep that one with him, he thinks. A little bit of home to bring wherever he goes.

-

anyway yeah fslkjflaskjfls i-- ouch. anything to do with letters w these two hurts me immensely

[i-am-very-heck]

I'm in love with them so how do v and obies relationship progress if you have anything on that? Or just them in general

ive been thinking about this all day and ive been writing down bulletpoints on how their relationship progresses each area/day on a paper from psychology class. ill summarize it under the readmore (and sorry if its phrased a lil weird at times cause i rarely write abt shipping stuff so itsa fuck it we ball moment)

Ocean City! these two meet in the park and since v's was kind to every hobo so far, they treat obie with that same kindness. also they really do dig his oboe. when they check out the hobo camp later and woo yeah they adventurein together now. in the short time they've known each other obie's impressions are that v is kind of strange, but nice. v falls into a crush real quick though, for they really like obie's vibes. they also totally infodumped to him about instruments.

next up, Crystaldream Lake! the pining begins. v is a tad bit oblivious when it comes to how OBVIOUS their crush is. at this point obie has warmed up to this doofy ghost so he catches on pretty easily and tries to drop some hints of his own to no avail. i do have a few incorrect quotes that i think fit this situation pretty well

anyways v is a flustered idiot at this point.

S.I.T. is a fun place because that is where i've decided that image of v hauling ass with obie slung over their shoulder took place. they were running from the shadow homunculi because those things are awful. anyways so obie is just flirting w/ v now and v is thinking its just like playful/joking flirting and it doesnt mean anything but they're flirting back. they are So close to Getting It but they're so far at the same time. obies got some patience for them. also another fitting incorrect quote i think

okjay the Big Moist is where my bullet points become nonexistent so fuck it we ball. this area is when v finally Gets It. specifically im imagining a scene where after they get out of mudhenge they find obie and he is Worrying. he's just like 'where did you go???? i was scared i'd never see your smile again' or something along those lines and jsust hugs them right then and there. then is when the click happens. v is very flustered and like 'wgha... youd miss my smile?' or smth and boom they are aware. this scene is both very cheesy and dramatic in my head and i might actually draw it later.

anyways after this point they say nothing about the status of their relationship but they're basically dating lmao

[saturnsummer]

the fairytale she never had (will you believe again?)

when sol is invited to a wedding, sol doesn’t think her best friend would follow her. 

aka: solhwi attending a wedding

notes: it just struck me one day, and i really wanted them to see each other outside of the law school moments! while law school defines them, they are certainly people with social activities.

 i adapted this from a similar prompt i saw from a fic many years ago for a separate fandom, and i always wanted to write something similar. this was honestly not met to be multi-part, but i write too much anyways. so multi-part it will be.

 also, it might sound depressing in the initial part where sol is talking about the wedding invitation, but it gets explained later on. 

as always, enjoy! any grammar mistakes and all will be taken fully responsible by me!

ao3 link

words: 4135 words

I: 我愿变成童话里, 你爱的那个天使 (i am willing to be the angel of that fairytale you love)

--title inspired by fairytale (童话) by Michael Wong!--

Sol absolutely hates weddings. 

She hated the big social crowds, the way drunk men in tuxedos staggered around with women in one arm and a drink in another. She found no purpose in dressing in lavish gowns, then eating dinner for the next two hours without even feeling full. 

Sol couldn’t blame anyone but herself for this. She can’t help but remember her mother’s failed marriages. The way her biological father left them in the middle of the night, with all their hard earned savings. The way her stepfather, Byeol’s father, would come home drunk and violent towards her mother. It was a memory she couldn’t erase. More than a decade later, she still wakes up in a cold sweat, worrying for her mother and small Byeol’s life. 

She long ago gave up on the concept of love back then. She wasn’t opposed to anyone dating or talking about it, and she certainly didn’t mind short flings. But marriage? Eternal love? The fairytale that everyone hopes to achieve? Sol threw those ideas out of the window. 

So when Sol received a thick, cream-coloured card and envelope, embossed with rose gold foil and flowers, a pretty silver wax seal and her name written in careful strokes of a calligraphy brush, she was stumped. 

Her friend, Im Jiyoon, was getting married. Jiyoon was a good friend of Sol’s, and they occasionally met up for quick meals. Jiyoon was an accountant and climbing the ranks in her company. They lost contact for a period when Sol was in juvie, but they reconnected when Sol was just starting law school. It was only polite that Jiyoon extended invitations to her high school classmate. 

Sol had mixed feelings. The wedding was on a Friday night, which made things good since she didn’t have to wake up early, fitting her schedule properly. But she had nothing to wear. She could borrow a dress and shoes from Yeseul, but the last time she borrowed a shoe from Yeseul, she almost broke her ankle. And she had so much work to catch up on. Yet, not showing up felt rude of her. 

Jiyoon was nice, don’t get her wrong. She was smart, resourceful and lovely to be with in high school. Sol wanted nothing more than for her high school friend to marry the love of her life. But she hasn't been to such social events in years, and being so focussed on school, the legal clinic and contributing to her family, she found it difficult to understand why she needed to go, besides doing it out of courtesy. 

“What’s that?” A familiar voice pipes from behind, drawing her out of her thoughts. There’s the familiar shuffling of several pairs of feet as Sol turns her attention to the one who spoke. Behind her, was Han Joon Hwi with his bag just being set on the table. The rest of the group was just settling in for another study session.

“Ah, nothing important.” She monotonously says before sliding the card in her files. Joon Hwi’s hands catch the card before she can slide it fully and stop her from hiding it from him, or the rest of the group. The rest draw their attention to the expensive card and Sol only stays silent. 

“A wedding? Your friend’s?” Yeseul asks as she picks the card up with perfectly manicured fingers. Turning and feeling the thick paper between her fingers, Yeseul knew it was no cheap manufactured paper. This was expensive, premium, and each card looked handmade from the brush calligraphy. 

“Yeah. But I don’t think I’m going.” Sol says as Yeseul returns her the card and successfully stores it away in her bag. 

“Why not? Don’t you want to be there?” Joon Hwi asks, cocking his head to the side in utter confusion.

“There isn’t much point, is there? I have school and the legal clinic and things to revise for. And besides, I don't have anything to attend in. I just rather send her a gift and treat her a meal.” Sol simply explains. Everyone bombards her with more questions, but she diverts their attention to her paper and the cases they are reviewing today.

Joon Hwi, however, couldn’t get Sol’s reasoning out of his head. He knew Sol well enough to know how much she values her friends, and that she would be willing to drop everything for a friend. Her loyalty was unmatched. It didn’t make sense that she would be held back by her vanity or school work that caused her to not attend such a joyous occasion. 

When everyone is done reviewing the cases and the session ends, Sol is the only one who has her books and papers still scattered all over the table. She still has to review her notes and catch up on a few lectures before she can officially end her day. Joon Hwi was long done, but he stayed put, bringing out a past report he’s done and glancing through it, hopeful to catch any mistakes. The others have headed back or gone to the cafeteria for a meal. 

“Han Joon Hwi, you don’t have to stay for me, you know?” Sol says, her eyes not once looking up as she stays concentrated highlighting her book with a fluorescent orange highlight. She sticks it in her hair when she’s done, raising her head to meet Joon Hwi’s eyes. Joon Hwi only smiles, letting his eyes crinkle. 

“Why don’t you want to attend the wedding?” Joon Hwi asks, still smiling. Sol scoffs. 

“I already said. I’m too busy-” Sol is cut off by Joon Hwi with his teasing. 

“You sure? I think it’s about the groom, though.” Joon Hwi smiles brightly, earning an irritated series of clicks of her tongue from Sol, clearly successful in being teased.

“None of that sort! Who do you think I am, Han Joon Hwi?” Sol rebuts back, throwing her eraser across to him in annoyance.

 Joon Hwi catches it with a laugh, but doesn’t lose eye contact with Sol. A few moments of silence follow, as she looks at the file with the card. Slowly, she draws the card from her file, holding it carefully between her fingers. 

“It’s not that I don’t want to be there. I… it’s my first time going to such a social event in such a long time. And the last time I met Jiyoon was a year ago, back in our 1L.” She says softly, letting her fingers brush her calligraphed name.

“I just… rather not go, you know? Treat her to a nice meal somewhere, maybe a couple drinks. Besides, I’m sure she’s just doing it out of courtesy.” She lets out a light laugh. 

Joon Hwi’s heart softens. He’s witnessed Sol in her different elements. The courtroom, where she’s a powerful woman in command, dressed professionally in a suit and hair in a perfect ponytail. The day-to-day her, where she’s comfortably dressed in jeans and her tanned coat, hair in a bun and post it notes on her jacket. She was always so bold, so confident and so full of fire. It never occurred to him that she would be uncomfortable in social events. She was always the life during dinners, with Bokgi. She laughed loudly, engaged in conversations and seemed so comfortable. He remembers how she would help out the old halmeonis with her neighbourhood on some days when he sent her home, or the times she bought ice creams for Byeol’s classmates. She seemed so extroverted, yet so closed off. Eying her, Joon Hwi reaches out and clasps his hand over hers in an attempt to comfort. 

“I never went to school events, you know? Especially since juvie made me miss it. When I redid my high school year, I didn’t go too. There wasn’t much of a point, since I didn’t have a date or many friends to begin with. If it was Dan, she would have gone, being the popular girl she was back then.” Sol softly says, a small smile ghosting her face.

She remembers the day prom arrived for her school. She was expectant, hoping that the boy she liked would invite her. Or maybe the girls that she occasionally had lunch with will invite her to hang out. But all she got was a stone cold silence the weeks leading up to prom. When everyone buzzed on what they were wearing to prom night, she silently put on her headphones, drilling herself into her science assignments. Of course, she wouldn’t be invited.

She knew the rumours floating in school. How Dan was the perfect one, how she was the failed one. She knew everyone knew she went to juvie. She knows how the boys snicker at her when she walks past them, or how the girls gossip and whisper when she’s eating her lunch. Besides, it didn't help that she was poor. She can’t even afford a dress of her own, let alone go to the event.

Realising what she’s said, Sol quickly draws her hand away along with the card and slots it away in her file. 

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to blabber on. You must think it’s stupid, I think so too. Anyways, do you have the notes Professor Kim...” Sol quickly apologises and diverts her attention to her notes. But Joon Hwi was no longer listening. He was shattered by how the woman sitting in front of him has never been treated like how she should be treated. It was no secret to Joon Hwi that he cared for his friends, but cared a little more for Sol. He was the one that left post-it notes on her table and pretended he didn't. She was the only one that he would let steal a mouth or two from his ramyeon. He could read her moods just from her eyes. He wonders sometimes, if he sees her more than a friend. 

He won’t hide that she’s beautiful. The way her eyes slant in an elegant fashion, her smooth, slightly tanned skin, and her winning smile that he always found his heart beating faster for. He loves the way she smiles at her extra pickles, the way her eyes light up when she sees Byeol, or the way she argues and practices. The tenacity and desire she has to improve inspires him to work as hard as her. 

This is why when Sol spilled the beans, he couldn't help but feel all sorts of emotions. Anger, towards the people in her school, for not realising such a wonderful student. Anger towards her for degrading herself. Sadness, for her not being able to experience such events. 

As Joon Hwi ended the session with her and returned to his room, he made a promise to Sol. He’s convinced it will work, and he begins planning in his head. 

He will show her the fairytale. 

-----

A week passed. 

Sol had to give a reply in a few days and she has not figured out what to say. The wedding was in a month. She knew Jiyoon would be busy... Sol figures that she should just treat Jiyoon after her honeymoon, knowing how she would be away with her husband as newlyweds later on. 

“Still thinking about the wedding?” Joon Hwi nods at her, her head in her hands. Sol, looking defeated, nods. So much for trying to hide. They were at their pantry area of their dorms, Sol stirring her ramyeon, as Joon Hwi slurps his. It was 3am, and they just finished studying. The next day was a weekend, so it didn’t really matter if they slept late, since they got the privilege of sleeping in.

“What do I tell Jiyoon? I don’t want to sound rude.” Sol mumbles, lazily stirring her soggy noodles.

“Go to the wedding.” Joon Hwi says suddenly, continuously slurping. 

“What?!”

“Sol, how many weddings can you even go to in your life? Are you sure you want to miss this one? Besides, you said you haven’t been to social events. Don’t you want to experience it?” Joon Hwi says, adrenaline building in his voice. 

Sol falls silent. She can’t deny that she wants to experience the feeling of being dolled up, the fun that everyone talks about, and the enjoyment that everyone goes through. And Joon Hwi is right; she wants to celebrate with Jiyoon. But her fear of social events and the past was holding her back. 

Joon Hwi could tell the change in her eyes. He gives a sweet smile, knowing that he said enough to change her mind. 

“Joon Hwi, but what if she doesn’t even-” Sol begins doubting herself as she shoots off her doubts and worries. Joon Hwi calms her down with logical reasons, calming her nerves in between his mouths of ramyeon. 

“But... I’ll be alone there, right?” Sol asks, her voice so soft, Joon Hwi barely picks it up. Her ramyeon is still untouched, and the noodles have gotten soggy and cold. Sol is silent for a moment, as she realises how right she is, for once. It wasn’t like she could ask a date, she doesn’t even have one. And her friends from the study group were out of the question. They don’t even know Jiyoon. Joon Hwi quickly brings up his bowl to his face, hopefully covering it as he feels the heat rising to his face.

“I’ll be your plus-one.”

Sol’s eyes light up and her head rises. Did she hear that right? Han Joon Hwi, her plus-one? 

“Oh, no! No, I didn’t mean it like that! Joon Hwi, no, I can’t-” Sol can’t find the right words to say. He can't? He shouldn’t? He doesn't need to? Sol can’t deduce her own reasonings for this argument. She knows her roommate likes him, and she definitely doesn’t want to be the target of her roommate’s stares if she catches wind of this. Besides, Joon Hwi doesn’t like her. She knows, and she doesn’t want him to get any wrong ideas. He’s her best friend, and confidante. She knows, deep down, his heart is someone else's. 

“I want to.” 

Sol freezes as Joon Hwi finishes drinking his soup. Placing the bowl down, he does as best as he can to lock eyes with Sol seriously, showing her he wasn’t teasing. No, this was out of his sincere heart. He knows how nervous she gets in a new environment, and him being next to her was bound to calm her nerves just a little more.

Sol could see the genuine care and want in his eyes. She knows this isn’t one of his jokes or teases. For a split second, she catches herself thinking if he meant something more. That going as a date, was more than just keeping her company, but for something to develop… 

Her face is flushed red as she looks at her puffed noodles and lukewarm soup. She picks her chopsticks up but is stopped by Joon Hwi’s hand as he shifts the bowl toward him, away from her. 

“Get yourself a fresh one. This is the first meal all day, isn’t it?” Joon Hwi calls her out, covering her noodles. Sol wants to argue for her soggy noodles, but she falls silent knowing how he revealed her secret. She hasn’t eaten all day after running reports and studying. Grumbling, she does as instructed and boils another bowl of ramyeon. When she’s back at the table with a fresh, hot, spicy and red bowl, she dives into it, wondering how she managed to survive the whole day. 

Joon Hwi only gives a small smile looking at the girl slurping her noodles with delight and looking at her. Joon Hwi wasn’t lying. He did want to be her plus-one for the wedding. He knew that more than just being a comfort for Sol, he wanted to make this one day a day she could look back and smile at. That she could be pretty, relaxed and happy instead of stressing over her grades, exams and family. 

“Fine.” Sol says as she continues slurping the spicy noodles. She blesses the spiciness of the noodles, such that she could blame her pink blush on it. Joon Hwi, clearing the cold noodles and getting water for both of them tilts his head in confusion. 

“Come with me to the wedding, if you want to.” She mutters softly, almost shy to let him know. To hide her blush and hide her confusion, she lifts the still hot bowl to her face. She drinks the soup, but chokes on the spiciness. Joon Hwi lets out a light chuckle before passing her a bottle of cold water. Sol looks at him with narrowed eyes of annoyance, but graciously takes the water. 

As he watches Sol eat her first bowl, then a second, as Joon Hwi munches on some crackers, he only smiles and laughs at whatever Sol was complaining about her reports and her frustrations at her cases that she picked. He lets out comforting words, but is rebutted back with Sol saying he will never get it because he’s smart unlike her. 

As he went to bed that night, he only gave a giddy smile, burying his face in his sheets. He scored his point of taking Sol out on a date, and was already counting down. He officially succeeded in the first step of his plan. 

The rest of it required a little bit of help. But he knew who to ask. 

-----

“Yeseul! What is it that you need to wake me up on a weekend? I was up until 4am last night!” Sol grumbles as she places her phone on speaker, rubbing her eyes. It was 8am, way too early for Sol to process any emergencies. Well, if it was Yeseul, she would do it any time. 

“Sorry, unnie. But it’s urgent. Could you meet me in 10 minutes at the lobby?” Yeseul’s bright voice echos. Sol notices her roomie’s bed made, pillows nicely fluffed and sheets tucked in neatly in pure perfection. She isn’t surprised, considering how she gets up early anyways.

“Fine.” Sol says and hangs up, getting a fresh change of clothes and heading to the bathroom to wash up. She throws on a hoodie, grabbing her only tanned ochre coat and grabs her bag, before jogging downstairs to the lobby. There, Yeseul is standing there, with a sling black bag and with one of the many nude heels she has, hair styled to perfection.

“Unnie!” Yeseul waves her hand over. Walking closer, Sol notices two other familiar friends behind as she scoffs. 

“Joonhwi? Bokgi? What are you doing here?” She asks, her hand playing with the strap of her bag unconsciously. She was surprised to see Joonhwi, but even more Bokgi, who usually spends mornings sleeping in. Joonhwi only gives his usual cheeky smile and drags a drowsy Bokgi with him out towards to the main entrance of the school. Dumbfounded, Yeseul takes this moment to link her arm with Sol’s as she leads her out and catch Sol up to their agenda today. 

“What?! You’re bringing me where?” Sol exclaims, her voice echoing throughout the lobby. Yeseul shushes her as she drags a shocked Sol out of school. Yeseul didn't need the whole school to know where Sol was going. 

“Unnie, please? You need a dress for the wedding, and don’t think you are going to go in one of mine or your old ones! Besides, you promised to go shopping with me one day, right?” Yeseul defends herself as Sol sighs. 

Yeseul wasn’t wrong. The wedding was just a week away and she had absolutely nothing to wear. She owned a couple pairs of flats, but they were so old, it would be embarrassing to attend with those. And her dresses were either too big or too small. She was so caught up with school after submitting her reply to Jiyoon, that she would have forgotten about the wedding if it wasn’t for the post-it on her bedside wall. 

“But...but...” Sol couldn’t find any reasons to counter. She knew Yeseul was right. Besides, it’s a weekend. And they had no upcoming tests or projects, so there was no harm in doing something besides studying in the copy room. She nods, defeated, earning a smile from Yeseul. 

“Wait, then why is Joonhwi and- Who’s car is that?!” Sol’s thoughts are cut off when she sees a familiar black sedan waiting by the entrance as Sol and Yeseul just exit. In the car, she manages to see a Joonhwi in the driver’s seat and Bokgi riding shotgun. 

“Yah! Han Joon Hwi! Isn’t this my roomie’s car?” She shouts as she strides a couple of steps when Joonhwi rolls the window down. 

“She loaned me the car for today. Don’t want you carrying so many things back from shopping today.” He replies curtly. Bokgi opens his passenger side door on the right.

“Bokgi-”

“Noona, sit in front. I’m too tired to watch Joonhwi-hyung drive.” Bokgi mutters before he climbs into the backseat with Yeseul. Sol wordlessly settles into the seat next to Joonhwi, who only looks at her with a smile. Sol catches his odd looks and pauses.

“What?”

“Ready for shopping?” He has his cheeky smile on again. Sol glares in annoyance before turning behind to Yeseul. 

“Did you make him drive?” Yeseul shakes her head and spills out her defensive explanation.

“Oppa called me up yesterday! He just said he needed my help to accompany you shopping for a dress!”

“Then, why is Bokgi here? Trying on dresses too?”

“Noona! I’m listening!” Joonhwi only laughs and shakes his head.

“He’s just accompanying me.” Joonhwi says as he begins to drive off. 

Well, Joonhwi wasn't lying. He waited till their quizzes and projects were over before executing this. He knew Sol was busy, and had waited for the busy season to pass before calling Yeseul. He explained that he knew Sol would not go shop for a dress, and he needs her help to accompany him and her. She willingly, too willingly, agreed. 

Next, he asked Sol B if he could borrow her car, knowing how Sol was not going to go home with just one dress and one pair of shoes when Yeseul was involved. Sol B was skeptical, but just passed the keys over to him. Besides, she was going to be in school studying all day; she didn’t need the car. Bokgi joined in, as Joonhwi couldn’t spend hours on end waiting for the ladies to shop. On further thought, Bokgi just might help him out with something. 

“I could go myself with Yeseul. You didn’t have to wake up for this.” Sol mutters just loud enough for him to hear, fiddling with her fingers. Joonhwi returns with a light scoff.

“As if you’ll do it.” Sol glares at him from the side and is ready to punch him, but retracts her hand, knowing she might literally kill everyone in the car. The ride from the school to the bustling heart of Seoul is a rough twenty minute ride. Bokgi takes this time to catch a wink and Sol does the same, but she can't seem to do it. 

Something about Joonhwi bringing her out to buy a dress specially made her heart flutter a bit more than usual. She knew that Joonhwi cared for her. The ways that he left rolls of gimbaps and energy drinks as opposed to coffee on her table during her tough days. The moments when he would offer his jacket as a pillow wordlessly when she wanted to rest her head after hours of studying. The unspoken synchronisation between them was just a showing of how they understood each other inside and out. 

Sol thought nothing of it. She knew him as long as she stepped into school when he saved her from Professor Yang. They spent almost everyday studying, having classes and eating together. After all, they are best friends, and don’t best friends do this? They look out for each other, right?

He is going to be my plus-one at Jiyoon’s wedding. He’s taking me to shop for a dress. 

Sol wonders, truly for the car ride as she stares outside at the blue skies and empty streets of Seoul, if Han Joonhwi meant more than friends to her. If… she wanted more. 

Deep down, she couldn’t deny hoping for more. She liked the way he looked at her, eyes crinkled and smiling in half moons, the sweet smile that she couldn’t help but return. She has never had many relationships, considering her experience in school and afterwards. She was just too busy; too focussed. Seeing how this man cared for her just made her feel so… special. 

She has never felt that way.

[missdawnandherdusk]

the lakes

Draco Malfoy X Reader

Request: @youareinllve​: Imagine spending summer break at the Malfoy manor and you realize that this is the first time in a while that draco seems like a kid again, with no pressure from his family or Voldemort or the death eaters, just draco, your draco again, just having fun in a lake. (also see the lakes)

A/N: So I think this is the softest thing that I’ve ever written in my life and that’s saying something (especially for those of you who have been around for a while). It also has brilliant cadence, so if you can, read it aloud: it’s that much more enchanting if you can. By no means will this always be how I write, because it is more poetic than prose, but I don’t mind doing it now and against especially with a muse like folklore. Let me know what you think! Seriously, I thrive on y’all feedback/comments/reblogs.

There were few days that I could call my own. The days when no one expected me to sit this way, talk that way, act perfectly. I could be young. I could be free. I could be loved. I could be with him.

There were few days that I could call him my own. The days when no one expected him to walk this way, speak that way, act like a Malfoy. He could be young. He could be free. He could be loved. He could be with me.

There were no tight-fitting robes. There were no school uniforms. There were no hours spent on hair and makeup. There was no time wasted in reflections. There were no side eye glances to steal.

There was the lightness of cotton. It was sundresses, cuffed trousers and flowy shirts. It was wide brimmed sun hats and bare feet. It was the softness of grass and the strength of the stones and comfort of earth.

It was his smile. The way it met his eyes. The way it called me in.

Into that cold water. That crystal-clear water. The water that matched the shade of his eyes.

 ~

Meet me at the lake,

Yours, Draco

~

That’s all it would take. That was when I knew the day was mine. When I knew he was. It was a trip to Windermere. To the wood skirting around his large suffocating manor. It was meeting him at the lake, where our days went to live and die.

“Took you long enough,” I’d tease as he passed the first few trees, his eyes scanning the foliage for me.

“Not all of us can apparate yet,” He’d jest back, taking my hand.

The warmth of his hand in mine matched the smile on his face. The sharp points of his cheekbones and jaw meeting the soft curves of his lips and eyelashes. The grass struggling to grow in the speckled light beckoned us forward. Our shoes, coats, and griefs left under a tree where our initials were carved. Sunlight filtered in golden and green through the trees lighting him softly.

Draco would take my hand and pull me close. His hands would rest on my waist as his nose nuzzled against mine in the calm lighting. Our breaths and the rustling of leaves were the only things heard. The only things that mattered to listen to. His lips would be soft and alluring on mine—just as his smile was.

The shock of the chilled water would elicit the most irresistible laughter and shouts of joy. The squishy earth beneath my toes would have me draped over Draco’s shoulders, just to avoid the prickling feeling. My dislike of the sensation would have him laughing yet again, and perhaps he’d roll his eyes at my ridiculousness. But he’d never complain. Instead he’d hold me or draw me deeper into the water.

The lake. The deep water. As soon as we could dive beneath it, our worries were gone. There was no war looming. There were no evil overlords. No heroes. No ransoms. There was no good versus bad. There was no sides. No houses. No prejudices.

There was me. 

There was Draco.

There was the hum of insects. There was the swaying of wisteria. His smile pressed against my skin.

“I love you,” He’d whisper. “More than anything,” 

“Never more than I love you,” I’d reply.

The enchanted water of that lake would take us to the banks. The outcropped rocks surrounded by flowers that were free to grow. That grew despite the adversity that it faced. The blanket would be soft under my touch as we carved a little square of the wildflowers to call our own.

Draco’s eyes would watch the distance, gazing upon the peaks of the mountains. Being with Draco seemed to make everything hurt less. No matter what it was, he had a way of soothing all of my worries and strife.

“How do I love thee?” He’d quote as I lay beside him watching the blueness of the heavens above.

“Let me count the ways,” I’d muse back, propping up on my arm so that I could catch a glimpse of the grey that his eyes held.

“I love thee to the depth and breadth and height my soul can reach,” The words would tumble from his lips with practiced ease, with the same grace as the breeze persuading the grass to waver.

“I love thee to the level of every day's most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.” My words would barely be heard above the babbling of the lost brook as the sun would stretch out its last efforts of warmth and guidance.

Draco would sit up then, tucking my drying hair behind my ear in a feeble attempt to tame it against the will of the wind gods that accompanied us.

“I love thee freely, as men strive for right.” An air of melancholy would haunt his words as shades began to seep back into our Eden.

“I love thee purely, as they turn from praise.” The gentle reminder would ward off the ghosts of who we were supposed to be as a smile would be mirrored on his face as it was mine. Again, we were free.

“I love thee with the passion put to use in my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.” Draco would become theatrical at these lines, feigning distress and he draped over my lap. A laugh would fall from my lips and onto the perfection of his features.

“I love thee with a love I seemed to lose with my lost saints.” My fingers would dust over his cheek, drawing down his jaw, to trace the pink of his lips.

“I love thee with the breath, smiles, tears, of all my life,” His grey eyes would vow this to me. Each and every day that belonged to us he would declare these words.

“And, if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death.” I’d promise back.

As the sun gave into his sister for the night, there was no escaping the world that demanded us back. The world filled with grief and sorrow.

The truth was: Draco and I didn’t belong in that world. The world of heroes and villains. The world of happily ever after’s and storybook endings. We weren’t made for rumors and gossip. Our love didn’t fit in newspapers or hushed conversations.

We belonged to the poets. To the sad prose. We belonged to the orishas of that lake and the wood and the flowers and the earth. Thousands of nymphs and naiads for us to be in the comfort and care of. The fae that would welcome us and protect our love. Our love that grew deep roots and beautiful flowers with no one around to spoil it.

Those were the days that we’d set off without our beloved to the lakes.

.

masterlist

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more like this: 

hufflepuff series

cardigan

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support a college writer

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[xserpentlife]

Care *Smut*

Requested: Kinda, mentioned this yesterday, started as a request but when elsewhere. Orig Request here: Hey hun ease can I have a ddlg little girl smut imagine with sweetpea or fp jones not bothered which where I have been a brat all day and he punishes me thanks so much xx.

A/N: This was created and I accidently went somewhere other than the request, I am also using this as one of the bingo spots on my card: Aftercare. 

Warnings: Smut

Word Count: 2339

There was something off with you today and Sweet Pea could tell from the start. First it was waking you up, you didn’t want to, which was not much different than usual, however, this time you actually cried and Pea didn’t know what to do. You weren’t in pain, you weren’t going through anything really. He just held you while you cried and then eventually got you dressed and to school.

Finally at school when pulling in the drive you began to calm down.

“Wanna tell me what that was about?”

“I dunno, Daddy.”

Another odd thing to add to the list for the day. You were his little girl, mostly only in bed though, and once in a while after play when you slipped into little space. It was very, very odd and concerned him that you were calling him daddy in a non sexual manner while at school. You were often a brat in public, using daddy to turn him on, but this was entirely different.

“Baby girl talk to me”

“Gotta school daddy”

“Be a good girl in class and don’t say anything okay, I’ll see you during free hour”

“Okay daddy” you kissed him on the cheek something you always did while in little space

He was afraid you’d get found out, your kink and little space would be exposed and it would put you in even more of a rut. See no one really knew of yours and Peas' relationship except one or two people. You keep it secret, it is deeply personal. You went through a lot of trauma, falling into little space is your way of dealing with stress and hard times, he could usually make it better pretty quick but this time he had no idea why you fell into little space so hard and so quick. I mean you had both been busy the past few days. Not seeing much of each other than in passing and at night when falling asleep, but you never hid anything from him, and you hadn’t mentioned anything bad at all, so the fact you slipped without him knowing or detecting it made him so upset with himself. He knew he shouldn’t have sent you into class, but you had a test you absolutely could not miss and he was hoping you’d be okay alone. He has learned that when in little space you cling to him like a bear. Turning to your little side is your safe space, but without Pea there would be none of that at all. He is like the base to your tower.

The class could not have ended faster for him, he needed to see you and make sure you were all right. He always waited for you by the lockers. He watched and waited but hadn’t found you. He walked to your classroom and saw the teacher yelling at you. He walked in, not caring about anything in the world, plus he didn’t have this teacher for math. But saw you crying eyes watering red and puffy.

“What the fuck is going on”

“None of your business son, you can’t just barge in my classroom like that”

“I can damn well barge in here when your yelling and up in a girls face for no goddamn reason sir, plus no one fucking talks to my girlfriend like that I don’t care if you’re her teacher or not. You can speak to her on monday” Pea dragged you out of the room, grabbing your hand in the process. Tears still streaming down your face he brought you to a corner in the rec room, thankfully no one was in there, because your friends are usually the only ones there and they were all in class except fangs, but he was with Kevin. All you did was cry as he sat you down, no words coming out of your mouth. He loved you so goddamn much and seeing you cry was always a struggle for him.

“Princess you gotta talk to me or I can’t fix it or at least try to make it better” You shook your head pouting up at him

“Baby c’mon please whyd id he yell at you”

“Said… said i was bad at math and, and then he...” you started balling again.

“He got bad at me cause I got done early and it was so bad, but he, he got mad also cause I got done early and drew on my paper. I don’t get it daddy you always say I can draw!”

“Baby you didn’t do anything wrong”

“He… he yelled yes I did daddy he got mad. Was my drawing not good daddy”

“Im sure it was perfect aby, but sometimes there are things we just can’t draw on”

“Wanted to color but no pages, thought I could make a pretty picture but…” You cried one again Fangs walking into the room Pea glancing back at him.

Fangs found out you had a little space when he had walked into the trailer one day completely beat up and you were coloring on the floor while pea ran to the store.

*Flashback*

“Pea I need… Y/N?” HE saw you sitting on the floor onesie on coloring away on a giant page.

“Hi Fangsy, come color, Fangsy color, pleaseeeeeee”

“Y/N I need you to patch me up”

“I, Uh… fangsy hurt?

“Yeah, can you get me ice and a bandage?”

“Mhm, '' you nodded walking over to the freezer, grabbing the ice before heading to the bathroom and bringing it all back over to fangs. You leaned down pacci hanging from your shirt.

Pea walked in then starting fangs down when he walked through the door.

“What the fuck Fangs!”

“Sorry bro im hurt, I just walked in I didn’t”

“Don't yell daddy! Fangsy hurts”

“Sorry baby girl, can you go into the bedroom and i'll be in, in a minuted”

“You nodded kissing him before walking off to the bedroom” That was the night Fangs learned about your little space. It only made sense he would find out. Him and Pea were always together, so that means you are always there too. SOmetimes you were good at suppressing it, and hiding it but other times it wasn’t so easy. Fangs didn’t necessarily get it at least not at first, neither did pea, but they both supported and were there for you entirely . Fangs was a good support system and closest to Pea, meaning when Pea couldn’t be there, he was.

*end flashback*

“Aww pretty lady why you crying” If pea couldn't calm you down, fangs would come in making you laugh and forget about it.

“Bruce didn’t like my picture”

“Well that means an old man is just an ass hat, I bet your picture was absolutely stunning. Just like its creator, a true artist”

“I not that good”

“Mhm you sure are, i think you should draw me a picture for my apartment, could you do that?”

“Mhm” you nodded your head smiling. Fangs got you distracted long enough to stop crying and calm down some.

“Baby girl yo okay now” you nodded your head slightly still clinging onto him “baby we gotta get to class…”

“Wanna go home”

“Baby we..”

“Want home Pea, need you… please, wanna forget” he knew exactly what it meant. Sometimes you wanted to color, have food made for you, a bath run with pea in it, and other times you wanted him and only him, not just cuddling you want more.

“Okay, let’s go...” He didn’t hesitate, he knew what you needed. In that moment he knew everything.

He tried letting you go to stand up but you didn’t want to. You clung onto him like a bear in the wild. You loved Pea, you needed Pea in more ways than you could even explain. Fangs grabbed the keys from his pocked and unlocked the truck as Pea placed you in.

“Thanks bro”

“She gonna be okay”

“Mhm she’ll be fine just needs some time today to decompress”

“Okay, I know you got her but call if you need anything, and i'll cover for you in class”

“Always bro, and thanks again”

You got to his trailer as he led you to the bedroom sitting you down slowly. He grabbed the silk ties from the bottom drawer slowly kissing along you wrists as he tied them together.

“Baby are you sure”

“Yes daddy want you”

“Okay Princess but you know your safe word right?”

“Mhm..”

“Can you tell me?”

“Avacadoooo” He chuckled to himself lightly remembering back ot the time that you created the safeword. You thought it was so funny because the first time you used it he wasn’t hurting you at all, but you were so overpleasured you couldn’t go on, out you screamed avacadooooo as both you and him simalteanosly ignished. Its one of his funnies and best memories of the two of you.

By now, the amount of times you had been together he could read you like a book. The emaming of every movement the change in tone of every breath sound, he knew ever bit and piece of you, and your life and you wouldn’t have it any other way”

“Good girl” he began tying your hands to the bedpost.

“Want you to fuck me hard daddy, wnat to hurt, want to forget” when you were so subby that you slipped into little space forhours you wouldn’t always know what you needed or wanted. Pea knew you didn’t need to be fucked you needed love.

“You ready baby”

“Yes daddy”

You felt his body press lightly onto your own, he began kissing you, heading up to your neck, probably one of your weakest spots.

“Daddy not fair, you have your clothes on”

“Wanna take them off princess” You pouted up at him, you couldn’t you were tied.

“Well guess they stay on” You began to whimper eyes filling slightly

“Hey hey princess no crying tonight okay, want you happy”

“Always happy with you daddy” He took of his clothes bringing his body to yours once again. His cock already hard. You atche dhim come up to you, his lips ghosting over your own. HIs tip tickled over your entrance as you whimpered for more. He began thrusting slow short at first, then deeper as he went. The quicker they got the more you moaned. His hand found its way up to your neck, a firm grip, your breath halting for a moment. The feeling arousing you to no end. You felt your orgasm building.

“You like that princess”

“Yes daddy” he untied your wrists with a pull, your arms making there way around his neck as he thrusted into you . Head in the crook of his neck you moaned out.

“Daddy I can’t”

“Gonna cum for me princess”

“Mhm, yes fuck daddy”

“Fuck.” He cried out. CUmming  as you came, eyes rolling back into your head he watched you come undone. YOu let out a loud moan of his name, as you felt his hand tighten by accident a second wave of pleasure passed through the both of you. He kissed you on the lips as he laid down next to you, pulling you to his chest. Your breathing remained heavy, your orgasm being one of the stronger ones you've had with pea.

“I didn’t hurt you did I?” Worry overcame him. He never wanted to hurt you. He never wanted to be that guy. He always made sure to protect you, always made sure to make sure that you were okay.

“No you didn’t daddy” you smiled, your eyes fluttering shut as his lips pressed to your forehead.

“I’m gonna run your bath and get you water okay” being with someone for so long helped you realize what they needed after certain things. For you water was number one. A bath always comes second due to the ties and your skin. Luckli silk helped you not get hurt, but it still could leave marks especially with how hard you pull to get away.

He came back and moved the blanket off you watching his release drip out of you. He picked you up placing you in the warm water, before slipping in behind you. You whimpered as you felt him lean you back against him, your hands touching the water and the little marks stinging. It was not a pain you didn’t like. It was nothing that Pea did, everything he did was perfect, but it always made him upset.

“Baby i’m”

“No… don’t apologize, I needed it, thankyou” He leaned down kissing your shoulder blade. You both sat in the water till it became colder. Your eyes began to get heavy. He stepped out watching you shiver from the cold air, as his body heat was removed from your skin. He helped you stand up legs still weak from the session. He grabbed your lotion and helped you over to the bed to lay you down and apply it to you.

“Wanna sleep”

“No baby, not yet or at least lay down so I can cover you in your lotion okay” You laid down, as his hands casted their way over your skin you began to fall asleep, him talking as you closed your eyes. The blanket soon made its way over you, his body coming to touch your back, “I love you” You felt a kiss to your head before you fell into a sweet darkness. Waking up the next day you were better than you had been a while. You thanked him with morning kisses, getting dressed and ready for the day as you both went to Pops for breakfast. He was your rock, your night, the light in the darkness you felt, and he’d always be there.