#sigh. I want to move. looking into options after the new year assuming I get a car soon skdkgnskfjs

[swinging-stars-from-satellites]

the fact that chicken is my favorite protein but I never get to eat it because apparently all the feed they're given is high in omega 6 and thus that transfers to us humans when we eat it and it's inflammatory so I get to each chicken once a year on my birthday when my mom spends an exorbitant amount of money to buy it from a place that only feeds their animals whatever is perfectly healthy enough

[kissitbttr]

miguel putting up with his girl’s princess attitude

-

“miguel!” you call out from the bathroom as your fingers delicately fix the straps of your bodycon dress. “can you come here for a minute?”

miguel sighs, this is the third time you keep calling him knowing how busy he is at the moment. work has gotten the best of him, and if reinventing new techs back to back isn’t enough to drain him, he has to keep up with your needs daily.

does he has the courage to say no to you, though? nope. as much as he hates to admit it because it’s embarrassing, he’s scared of you. if the spider society think that Miguel is too frightening then they have not seen you get mad or being a brat.

“coming, baby!” he walks out of his office while taking off his glasses, rolling the sleeves of his henley shirt to his elbows.

the bathroom door is left wide open, immediately seeing you standing before the mirror in a long and tight fitting grey dress that falls just around your ankles. and just like that, his annoyance completely washed off,

he takes a good look at you. eyes slowly observing every single detail of your face and down to your body. the way that dress hugs your curves and accentuate your best assets should be a crime,

God, you’re such a perfection.

“shut your mouth before you catch flies, babe” you jokingly say as your fiancee stares at you with his jaw slightly agape. “mind helping me?”

Miguel clears his throat after, slightly smirking as he shrug his shoulders. he leans against the door way with his arms crossed, eyes never leaving yours.

“you look absolutely divine, mi amor.” he comments, taking his lower lip between his teeth. “is that new?” he points at the dress,

rolling your eyes playfully, you try to keep your composure still. even after three years of dating—now engaged— he still manages to make your heart skips and create butterflies in the pit of your stomach,

“I know” you reply in confidence, winking at him which he chuckles in return. “and yes it is! it’s SKIMS! got it yesterday, does it look good on me?”

he frowns, tilting his head to the side. “baby, you already know the answer to that come on now… you make anything look sexy.” he strides closer to you as he stands from behind you, “now, què necesitas?” he questions, resting his hands on his hips

you find it attractive how he towers over you, and it’s one thing that you love about him. it’s not that you’re petite or anything. but compared to how tall and big he is, you’re definitely tiny.

“straighten my hair for me please? I can’t reach it” you pout at him through the mirror, “just this part right here” fingers move to the back to touch part of your hair,

“ay dios mio, woman… you’re lucky i love you” he teases before grabbing the iron from the sink. “going out with the girls, mami? i assume lunch?” he asks as he starts parting your hair with one hand,

your head shakes, straightening the dress. “no, I’m doing cake testing today and wedding dresses … Darla is bringing three more flavors.”

he stops what he’s doing, giving you a confused look. “alone? cariño why didn’t you tell me? you know I’d come with you” he feels a bit disappointed and now guilty that he’s busying himself with work and instead you’re left dealing with your wedding, alone.

his hand rests on your shoulder and you move yours on top of him. “hey, it’s okay, Miggy… you’ve been so stressed lately i do not want to put more pressure… it was last minute anyway, she texted me this morning.”

“you’re my girl, i would never be too busy for you.” he says almost too fast,

giving him a sincere smile, you nod your head. “yes… i know, baby. trust me it’s okay…plus it’s bad luck for the groom to see his bride in a wedding dress” you giggle a bit. “we can go over the seating arrangements again together, yeah? i promise” you plant a soft kiss on his finger,

Miguel exhales a sigh, still feeling tiny bit upset that he won’t be there to keep you company. “okay, fine… tell Darla that keep vegan options open for the cakes.”

“noted, honey.” you tell him as he continues to straighten your hair, “is everything okay with work?”

he nods, eyes too fixated on your long hair, not wanting to mess up a single strand. “just running over a few reports and fixing few minor defects on the techs and my suit…the last guy did quite a number on me.”

“hmm i love it when you speak science to me” you comment, watching him laugh a bit at your flirty remark. “but you still need to be careful. i do not want to see my future husband all bruised up when i walk down that aisle or else I’ll leave your ass.” your tone comes off demanding and firm, but it’s only because you care.

“yes ma’am” he replies, setting down the hot object down on the sink before slowly running his fingers through your hair. “there you go, baby” he moves your hair to the front, kissing your cheek and seeing you smile just makes him happy. knowing he’s done a great job.

turning around to face him, you stand on your toes to kiss his lips. “thank you, miggy… I’ll see you later, okay? we can go grab dinner outside and then movie night at 9?”

his heart warms at that and lips stretches into a large grin. “sounds like a plan.” then he lightly slaps your ass as you walk out of the door,

“let me know if there’s going to be bunch of assholes staring at you today, I’ll hunt them down and fucking kill them on the spot.” he mentions as if it’s nothing

and they say romance is dead.

-

cake testing with miggy!

[mikareo]

⌗ SEASONS OF LOVE ₊ ˖ ་. a 呪術廻戦 miniseries

“ ࣭⸰ ★ HOPELESS ROMANTIC ; geto x fem reader ⠀ ꒰ . . episode two ! ꒱ . . . word count; 1.1k ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ᯇ it's not a hot-girl summer

⊹ ⠀⠀ geto suguru was having such a great day...until you knock on his door at 6:00pm begging for help with your boy troubles.

contains; geto suguru x fem reader, university (year 2) au, fluff, swearing, friends to lovers, love triangle

⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀pm or send ask to join/be removed from taglist,, ⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀link to miniseries masterlist

"what the fuck are you doing here?"

geto thinks this is the first time ever, that the two of you have been within six feet of each other without gojo around to make conversation...and it's weird. he didn't even know that you knew where he lived, let alone would come knocking on his door right before he was about to leave to get some korean barbecue chicken. he's barely moved in yet, with the summer coming to a close as campus begins to open up again, and you're surprisingly the first familiar face he's been able to see. yippee, lucky him. man, he really wants some honey garlic chicken, right now.

it's not that he doesn't like you. he thinks you're fine. you're normal. you don't cause any trouble unless you're with gojo, and you might be more similar to geto than one may think— but hanging out with you has never really been a thing. the only notable thing that you do have in common is gojo; and unfortunately, that's the very reason why you're here.

"satoru made a hinge profile." you sigh.

who cares?

"okay? he's satoru, that's not unusual." geto assumes this conversation will be a waste of time, but he wants to hear you out. he's nice like that. "is there a bigger issue?"

the look in your eyes tell him that there is, and within the ten seconds he takes to gaze at them, he finds himself lost. just for a moment, he's standing on a cliffside, gazing out at the open sea, with a sunset of colors painted before him. he's understanding your emotions from a painter's point of view, noticing each blended shade watercolored onto your irises with gentle brush strokes. there's loneliness, hopelessness, helplessness...and most significantly...there's love.

"you're in love with him, aren't you?"

without thinking, he moves aside to give you space to enter his room. he knows that this conversation will be difficult for you and wants to give you the privacy to vent in quiet; after all, it's the least he can do.

"how are you in love with satoru? he's like a walking std." geto thought you were the one girl who wasn't in love with his best friend. it seems he was wrong. "there's a ton of other guys on campus to go out with. why don't you do that thing people talk about online...the...what is it? hot girl summer?"

you groan and hug his pillow to your chest. when did you get on his bed? "i don't want a hot girl summer anymore, geto."

"i want a satoru summer."

that sounds like something out of his nightmares. the thought of gojo invading his every day and shadowing him from the sun is almost nausea inducing— however, geto didn't let you into his safe space to judge you. he let you in so he could listen.

"i'm just so tired of watching every other girl go on dates with him, it's not fair! why does he want them? none of them actually know him. they don't know his favorite stores or how he likes his eggs cooked! they don't see the face he makes when he's actually upset, and they definitely can't tell the difference between his fake upset look and his real upset look! i know him better than anyone— including you— and i don't understand why he doesn't love me like i love him! —and now this new class of freshmen girls get to have him? no! it's like he doesn't even see me as an option, he just looks through me. i don't exist in any romantic category in his brain, it's bullshit."

as your tears soak his favorite throw pillow, geto takes a moment to piece together everything you cried. with the voice cracks and small sobs, it was difficult for him to follow along, but he believes he understands the main point. you love gojo. gojo doesn't love you. simple.

geto would be lying to say that gojo's just a coward and actually does want you back. he knows firsthand that his best friend has never ever mentioned you in any romantic way. to gojo, you're just another best friend that he can rely on when he's being an absolute dick— which is a shitty situation for your sake, but you deal with it anyways just as geto does.

"y'know what i think?" he leans against his bed frame, gently tilting your head up to look at him. "i think that he might not be right for you. i mean, if you feel like he doesn't see you, he's not the one."

you bite your lip, struggling to hold in your tears. "but he is. i know he is. i need to be better for him."

now that's just not right.

"no." his hand is caressing your face. the position is very intimate and if anyone walked in they'd definitely assume you're a couple, but geto isn't aware of that. he just wants to make sure that you're going to be okay. "you shouldn't have to change yourself for satoru of all people—"

"but i do need to!" the volume of your voice surprises him, causing him to jolt back and let go of your cheek. "i just need more experience to be the kind of woman he likes. i need to actually put myself out there, i mean, i never do that. obviously he isn't going to like me if i don't even know how to flirt." you don't know how to flirt?

"you're joking right?"

"why would i be joking?"

"you seriously can't get a guy?"

"...i don't want to answer that."

ohmygod.

"alright," geto clears his throat and sighs the deepest sigh in his entire life, "i'm going to do you a favor and take you on some dates for practice. nothing more than that; just a few dinners, maybe some coffee shops, and if you're lucky i'll even throw in a bookstore or two. nothing romantic, though. i just want to be a good friend."

there's a small smile creeping on your lips. "are you serious?"

it's kind of cute. "dead serious."

and suddenly your arms are around him and geto thinks he might lose consciousness with the lack of oxygen he's getting. you give good hugs.

"thank you! thank you!" you're excited again and he's happy to make you laugh. your crying face was too much for him to handle. you don't deserve to feel sad, you're too sweet for that. "i'm so excited! i can't wait!"

what has he gotten himself into...

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⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⊹₊｡ reblogs are greatly appreciated! ˚₊⊹

[teaberrii]

Chapter 14: Time's Ticking

You and Dan Heng are a match made in heaven until fate takes him away from you too soon. Years later, you think you moved on with a mutual friend who shared your grief and stuck with you during tough times until you meet a mysterious man with a striking resemblance to your past lover and a hidden motive. You’re determined to get rid of him, but how are you going to get rid of a god?

Dan Feng/You

Notes:

Cross-posted on Ao3

Genshin Impact and Honkai: Star Rail crossover

Female reader

Chapter index at the end of chapter one

Support my writing

It’s been a few days since the strange text, and you aren’t sure whether to be relieved or nervous that’s all you received. Normally, you’d pass this off as a joke or an accidental text, but considering the circumstances, you just can’t. You’ve tried everything: texting back, tracing it, and alerting the police. But all you discover is that the number no longer exists, which makes you wonder if this is the work of magic.

Is it from Lan? Nanook? You doubt it. Why bother with a text when you've already met Lan? So, a sick prank from Childe, maybe? Or, is it the mystery man behind Lan and Nanook? The questions drive you crazy, and you wonder if this is the motive behind this ridiculous text. Once you've exhausted your options in figuring out this mysterious number, Dan Feng suggested something that caught everyone's attention at Bailu's apartment yesterday night.

"If Furina exists, it's safe to say that The Great Purge failed," Dan Feng said. "She wouldn't have managed to live this long."

Bailu sighed. "You know... I've been thinking. The mystery person behind Lan and Nanook's escape. What are they, exactly? A god? Someone like Furina?"

"Whoever they are, they knew about the teleporter," Neuvilette said. "That much is for sure."

"I think it's safe to say that they're behind this psychological game," Dan Feng said, nodding to your phone. "They're using magic, which means they found a way to wield it."

"But, couldn't they be like us?" Bailu mused. "They keep using magic until their power is completely gone?"

"Then, they should know how valuable it is to save their magic. Why would they use it on this?" Zhongli asked. "If we are assuming that Lan and Nanook are supposed to be doing the dirty work."

Neuvilette exhaled softly. "Perhaps they are like Furina. However, that wouldn't make sense either as we haven't seen her wield magic. She may have wrote The Book of Curses and lived for an abnormally long time, but that's about it."

You lean back on the couch. "Here's another thought. Who's to say other people didn't know about The Great Purge before it happened?"

Dan Feng briefly closed his eyes and nodded. “True.”

After a short silence, Neuvilette said:

“I suppose the question is... What caused The Great Purge to fail?"

"That's a loaded question," Bailu said. "Like... Where are we going to start?"

“Perhaps the place where we performed the ritual,” Dan Feng said. “The place where The Great Purge first started.” A pause. “My old home.”

You’re working at the office today while Dan Feng takes a little adventure back to the palace. Despite looking at your laptop screen, your attention is on your phone, hoping you’ll get an update in the group chat you share with the dragon gang.

A co-worker taps your desk, and you immediately look up. "He wants to see you now."

You got the message this morning that the team is getting a new temporary leader who’ll be supervising the group and the project’s progress. You don’t know much except that it’s a man, and he wants to meet the group members individually when he arrives later in the day.

You head upstairs, walking past busy-looking employees until reaching the quiet corridor. You aren’t sure why, but the closer you get to his office, you feel uneasy.

You knock once, and immediately a voice says:

“Come in.” You open the door and see a man with long dark blue hair with red tips and red eyes. He gestures for you to take the empty seat in front of him. “Take a seat.” So, you do, and he introduces himself as Yingxing.

“I… think we’ve met before,” you say, a little skeptically.

You’re trying to remember why he looks familiar when he says:

“Has Dan Feng mentioned me?” Your heart almost drops to your stomach. Dan Feng? How does he know about Dan Feng? He picks up on your confusion and slightly smiles. “Some people know me as Blade.”

Should you feign ignorance?

“Interesting name,” you finally say. “Why the alias?”

“Yingxing is a more fitting name for this generation, but you can call me whatever you feel most comfortable with.” His elbow is on the armrest, and you don't like the look in his eyes. It's as if he's studying you. "Dan Feng is looking for the Aeons, is he not?" He slightly leans closer. “Or, is he looking for you?”

Unfazed, you give him a deadpan look.

“I’m getting tired of explaining that I’m not someone from the past. How do you know about me?”

“I know he's secretly looking for the woman who betrayed him. He’s never admitted it, but I know he wants answers. And... you say you're not someone from the past, but it's telling me otherwise."

You narrow your eyes. "What's telling you otherwise?"

“I am not supposed to exist,” Blade says sternly. “When The Great Purge happened, it was supposed to rid magic from the world. But something went wrong.” A slight pause. “I would think you know about The Great Purge.”

“I do. I also know that you were the one who told Furina to write The Book of Curses." You cross your arms. "If anything went wrong, I would suspect you had something to do with it.”

“A bold accusation, but I suppose it’s logical.” You almost roll your eyes. “But it wasn’t me. I never wanted immortality.”

"...So, you're like Furina. You never died? You just continued to exist?"

Blade almost chuckles. "Ah, so you know that much already." Then, his expression turns stoic. "Immortality is possible if you know the right people." Right people…? “There’s only so much you can accomplish without external resources.”

“What do you want?” you ask. “You say you’re here because someone granted you immortality. Do you think it’s Dan Feng? Is that why you're asking about him?”

“I’d like some answers.”

“How are you so sure he’s the one responsible?”

“You sure have a lot of trust in him. I don’t know whether to call you courageous or foolish. If you are the reincarnation of the woman he hates… he’ll kill you.”

“I’m not,” you say bitterly. “So, you don’t have to worry about that.”

“So you say.” Blade leans back, and his eyes land on your necklace. “Who gave that to you?”

“Why do you ask?”

“You asked me earlier what's telling me you're someone from the past." He points to your necklace with his pen. "There's your answer."

◆◆◆

Pierro is working in his office when he gets a call. He reaches for the phone and hears his receptionist’s voice on the other end.

“You have a visitor.”

“I’m not expecting anyone today,” Pierro says. “Whoever it is can wait.”

“Are you sure, Sir? Tsaritsa is here to see you, and…” Pierro hears some muffled conversation. “She won’t take no for an answer.”

Pierro shuts off his monitor screen. “All right.”

It’s not like he has a choice.

Tsaritsa arrives shortly after in her familiar dark blue dress. Her hair, tucked behind her ears, is pulled back into a fancy braid, and her makeup is uncharacteristically bold with a dark red lip and gold smokey eyeshadow.

“I thought the event would keep you until late,” Pierro says, gesturing for her to sit on the sofa. He stands and walks to a long table near the large window. “Coffee? Tea?”

“I finished reading the diary,” Tsaritsa says. Pierro, who’s pouring himself coffee, stops halfway and puts the decanter back in its place. “And I want to know more about the woman your ancestor mentioned… Idrila.”

Pierro turns around with his cup. “That impatient, huh? It can’t wait until later?” When she says nothing, he finds her silence a little suspicious. He turns around, pours her a coffee, and says, “Well, I don’t know how much I can tell you. I’ve never met her, obviously.”

Tsaritsa coughs, and he doesn’t think much about it until it starts sounding a little violent. Pierro turns around holding two cups of coffee and sees her hunched over with her hand over her chest. But what almost makes him drop the cups is when he sees blood on her hand. He quickly puts them down.

“Hey,” he says, running over to her side. “Are you okay?” He puts a hand on her back. “Did you take your meds?”

“I’m fine,” she says calmly, reaching over to grab a tissue. She puts it to her mouth and straightens up. “...I’m fine.”

Pierro, one of the few who knows Tsaritsa has more than just a weak body, still looks worried. “Are you sure? Have you been taking your medication?”

Tsaritsa looks at him, a look that screams that he’s asking the wrong questions. “I said I'm fine, Pierro."

Pierro frowns. “I’ve noticed, you know. You’ve been coughing a lot more, and your fatigue is getting the best of you. I wouldn’t be surprised if the others are picking up that something is wrong.” He sighs. “Have you been seeing your doc—”

“Why do you think I’m here?” Her question takes him by surprise. “I know it’s getting worse.” She sighs to compose herself.  “But, you and I both know there is no cure.”

It was late at night, and Nanook was heading back to his room in the mansion when he saw the door of Tsaritsa's room ajar. As he got closer, he heard her cough. Once. Twice. And…

He stopped and peeked inside.

Tsaritsa was standing, hunched over her table. An old-looking open journal was off to the side. Nanook quietly opened the door, not wanting to startle her, but then he saw the blood on the table.

“You’re getting worse," he said. Before Tsaritsa could react, Nanook was already by her side. “It’s escalating.”

Tsaritsa's hand groped for the drawer as she took a breath. Finally, she got it open, and her hand shakily took out some pills. When she had trouble opening the bottle, Nanook helped her and watched her down two pills.

“...I’m fine.”

“Really?” Nanook asked, not convinced. He glanced at the blood. “This says otherwise.”

“What are you doing here?” She grabbed the journal and closed it. Nanook realized it was the journal from Pierro. “It’s late.”

“Well, I heard you coughing, and”—he looked at the blood—”do I need to say more?”

“It’s nothing,” she answered calmly. “I’m getting better.” Then, she put a hand on top of the journal. “You knew Pierro’s ancestor, didn’t you?”

Nanook slides a hand inside his pocket. “So, that old geezer mentioned me after all. Should’ve known.”

“This woman that you and Lan were so fond of…” Tsaritsa faced him. “Idrila. She was sick, and after she poisoned herself to end her suffering, both of you wanted to bring her back to life.”

“Why are you so curious?” Nanook asked skeptically. “I thought what you wanted from that journal was to learn more about that pretty boy so we can get rid of him.”

“And I did learn something,” she answered. “But, this is my first time hearing about another woman.”

Nanook scoffed. “You sound like an obsessive ex.”

Tsaritsa suddenly grabbed him by the throat, but Nanook didn’t flinch. “Let’s stop playing games, shall we? Regardless of your reasons for staying in the human realm, I kept you around because you promised me one thing… You could find a cure.”

“And I haven’t stopped looking.”

“The sickness that Idrila had… She began coughing blood in its early stages.”

Now, Pierro understands.

“You don’t…” he begins. “Are you saying you have the same illness as her? That’s ridiculous! If what the journal says is true, it wasn't normal.”

“Wouldn’t that explain my circumstances?” Tsaritsa asks bitterly. “You’ve been with me since the beginning, Pierro. You, out of all people, should know how many times I’ve been told ‘I’m sorry… I wish we can do more.’”

“But that doesn’t mean it’s magic.”

The silence drags on… and on… and on.

“It’s because of Lan and Nanook, is it not?” Pierro asks. “Because of who they are and what they did, it feels like anything and everything can be explained because of magic. I know you want an explanation. I would, too. But this isn’t healthy.” He sits next to her and puts an arm around her shoulders. “We’ll get through this together.”

Will they, really? Tsaritsa has her doubts. Still, she knows Pierro means well unlike the others she met in her life.

She never knew her birth parents. Those at the orphanage never told her much about them either. It was a rainy night when they found Tsaritsa wrapped in a blanket in a large basket at the entrance of the orphanage. So, her childhood memories were with the kids who accepted her despite her weak body. But that didn't make life any easier as she watched them leave for loving homes. Pierro was the first. Arlecchino was the second, and Columbina was the third.

“Oh, I wish we could adopt her, but you see, we’re looking for…”

Tsaritsa believed she heard it all. Every single excuse one could think of for not wanting her, and all of them were about her condition. So, when a family decided to adopt her, she was over the moon until she discovered the truth.

“Is she asleep?”

No, Tsaritsa wasn’t. She was upstairs with a perfect view of her adopted parents in the living room below. But, they couldn’t see her as it was dark, and she blended in with the darkness.

“Yes,” her mother answered.

Her father sighed. “We… should’ve waited. Don’t you think? If we found out sooner you were pregnant, we wouldn’t have this problem.”

“Oh, it’s a little harsh to call it a problem, right? We were told that I couldn’t get pregnant… So, this should be a great surprise. Besides, Tsaritsa is a good kid for her age.”

“But, I’m thinking about the future. Now that we’ll have a child, I would like them to take over our business.”

“And… What about Tsaritsa?”

“I… I don’t want to assume the worst,” her father said. “But, will she live long enough to see the day?”

And since then, before Dan Heng’s mother was even born, Tsaritsa already hated her. But not as much as she hated her adopted father.

“You say it can’t be magic,” Tsaritsa says. “But do I need to remind you that it still exists? Lan, Nanook, and Dan Feng’s existence is enough proof.” She turns to Pierro. “Idrila was born with a weak body, but her condition was purposely made worse.”

“That doesn’t explain how you could’ve gotten it,” Pierro says.

“Did you read until the end?” Tsaritsa asks. “Before she died… She had a child.”

Pierro’s face goes pale.

◆◆◆

Bailu arrives at one of the largest hospitals in the city. She has her hands on her hips as she stares in pride that the hospital she helped to get off the ground is still doing well.

Despite being born with a condition that stunted her physical growth, Bailu easily soared above her classmates in terms of knowledge and talent. She was only ten years old when she graduated from one of the most elite universities in the nation and after two years of work experience in the field, she entered medical school. Graduating early, she had many great job opportunities but chose a small clinic, Bubu Pharmacy, that was just starting to get off the ground. With only two employees, Bailu was attracted to the idea of building something big from scratch. And it wasn’t until she brought someone back to life that Bubu Pharmacy completely changed.

It was a slow and rainy day, and Bailu was enjoying her usual conversation with her co-workers, Herbalist Gui and Baizhu when someone entered. As soon as they heard the bell, they spun around, shocked to see a drenched woman carrying a bleeding, young girl on her back.

“Please…” the woman muttered. She would’ve fallen to the floor if Baizhu hadn’t caught her. “Please help my daughter.”

“Y-You need a hospital!” Herbalist Gui said, a little shaken.

“There’s no time for that,” Bailu said, examining the young girl. “She’s… She’s already dying.”

The woman grabbed Bailu’s arm. “Please… Please save her.”

Bailu remembers the day like it was yesterday. The woman and the young girl were victims of a hit-and-run, and they wouldn’t have survived. Yet, the young girl did, and while it was thanks to Bailu, she didn’t like to mention it… as she took the woman’s life to save her.

“Did it…” Herbalist Gui said quietly, his eyes wide. “Did it work?”

The young girl and the woman were lying next to each other on a large table. Bailu stood on one side while Baizhu stood on the opposite.

“Bailu,” Baizhu said, and she looked up at the young girl. “You’re shaking.”

Bailu looked at her gloved hand covered in blood. It was true.

Suddenly, a painful groan grabbed everyone’s attention. Bailu almost gasped as the young girl’s eyes fluttered open.

“Wh… Where am I?”

“Oh, my God…” Herbalist Gui muttered. “She’s… She’s alive!” He looked at Bailu. “You did it!”

Except, Bailu wasn’t sure what to feel.

The young girl, confused and disoriented, finally saw her mother next to her. “M-Mom…!” She held her hand, and Baizhu saw the moment her heart dropped to her stomach. “You’re… You’re so cold.” She looked at the worried faces around her. “Who are you? Why is my mother—”

“She’s gone.”

No one expected Bailu to be so direct. Not even herself.

“She’s gone…?” the young girl repeated, and her voice barely above a whisper. “What do you mean she’s gone?”

“She gave up her life… to save yours.”

“No… That’s…” She looked from Bailu to her lifeless mother. “That’s impossible. You can’t—”

“That’s what we thought,” Bailu interrupted. “But you… You’re living proof.”

“This is huge,” Baizhu said quietly. “I never thought this could be possible.”

“How?” the young girl asked, her fists clenched. “If what you said is true, how did you do it?”

Bailu never thought she’d say it, and it felt more surreal after she did.

“Magic.”

They soon learned that the girl was named Qiqi, and with no other relatives, Bailu, Baizhu, and Herbalist Gui took her in and treated her as one of their own. But it wasn't long before they realized that transferring her mother's life to hers had consequences. Qiqi had stopped ageing, and she was physically stuck as a child. This had grabbed the attention of the locals and the media, and soon, Bailu was being pulled in all sorts of directions to research this strange phenomenon.

But Bailu had made one thing clear: She didn't want to do it again. She knew that Qiqi and her mother were supposed to die that night, but she played with fate at the desperate request of Qiqi's mother and won with conflicting feelings. By now, only a few individuals had access to developmental research about magic. Bailu was one of them. But instead of researching more about taking someone's life to give to another, she followed her interests in immunity and immortality, hoping that no one would ever have to give their life to save another again.

Despite times changing, Bailu is happy that Bubu Pharmacy—now Bubu Hospital—still retained its traditional look and feel. Baizhu, Herbalist Gui, and Qiqi would be happy knowing that Bubu Hospital is alive and well. As Bailu takes the elevator to the uppermost floor, she walks down the quiet corridor, not wanting to reminisce about the past… again. She has done it far too many times, knowing it doesn’t make the pain of losing them any easier.

She also doesn't want to remind herself that losing them has made her a murderer.

“Tsaritsa? Is that her name?”

Bailu stops. Did she hear that correctly? She takes a few steps back and peeks into the room. A man with long blonde hair sits with one leg crossed over the other in a chair. But it’s the man standing that grabs Bailu’s attention.

It’s him. It’s Nanook.

“I have reason to believe she’s Idrila’s descendant,” he says. “And you… You were her doctor, were you not, Luocha?”

Luocha? Why does that name sound so familiar?

It was a slow day for Bubu Pharmacy, so Bailu spent it working on her research. Baizhu was in the room next to hers, and he hadn’t come out since she saw him walk in this morning. Curious about what he was up to, Bailu left the room, saw Herbalist Gui and Qiqi attending to a couple of customers, and then softly knocked on Baizhu’s door.

“It’s open.”

Bailu opened the door and peeked inside. “Whatcha workin’ on?”

“Oh, you know…” Baizhu sighed, his eyes still on some experimental equipment on his table. “I don’t know if you heard… but the princess of the nation developed a strange illness.”

“I’ve heard bits and pieces, but not entirely sure what it is she got.”

“It’s supposed to be confidential,” Baizhu said. “They don’t want to cause any unnecessary panic.”

“Figures,” Bailu muttered.

“But, as much as they want it to be confidential, we won’t get anywhere if we don’t share information.”

“She’s losing blood, isn’t she?”

“Rather than losing, it’d be more accurate to say something is draining her blood,” Baizhu said, and Bailu raised a brow. “They say it’s because of a spy from the neighbouring nation.”

Bailu wasn’t surprised that those in power would want to direct the blame to others, and what better scapegoat to use than their biggest enemy nation? As she never liked those in power, she never bothered with remembering names or faces. Leaders were all the same. Greedy. Power-hungry. Two-faced.

“Do they want you to use magic to cure her?” Bailu asked.

“Well… That’s the thing,” Baizhu said quietly. “There’s no magic that can. Not right now, at least. Perhaps it also has its limitations or more research needs to be done.”

“Huh… How interesting that not even magic can provide a solution.”

“They’re bringing in another doctor to see if he can provide some insight,” Baizhu said. “I’m meeting with him tomorrow.”

“Really? Who?”

“Someone named Luocha.”

“How long are you going to keep standing there?” Luocha’s green eyes meet hers through the crack in the door. “You’re welcome to come in.

The door suddenly slides open.

“Well, well, well,” Nanook says with a small grin. “Look who it is.”

Chapter 15

End notes:

And the mystery deepens...

I promise to make the timeline a little clearer lmao. But, for now, Bailu and Dan Feng would've been human in the same time period but Bailu "died" before the invasion happened. For some reason, this chapter was kinda difficult to write. Regardless, I hope you enjoyed learning more about Tsaritsa and Bailu. And damn this chapter was hard to name lol.

Tag list: @lunavixia @sunsethw4 @boomie-123 @aerithsthingss

[eds6ngel]

beth!!! I saw your post about Robin finding out that the reader is bisexual, do you think you could do the same except put Eddie in Robin's place??? sorry if i misspell a word, english is not my language 😅

of course i can honey!! and by the way, your english is great <33

warnings: fem!reader. pre-established relationship. pet names. swearing. mentions of homophobia. eddie being an ally. coming out. one mention of sex. comfort. fluff. both r and eddie are 20 [0.9k].

You and Eddie had been together since your junior year. You were both pathetically in love with each other, extremely open and no conversation was ever off the table. Which meant you allowed Eddie to talk about girls he found attractive, whether that be out in public or through the form of a celebrity. You trusted him with your life that he would never leave you, and coming up to three years going strong, it seemed that you were correct to make that assumption.

Eddie was on his third attempt of senior year, him afraid that his inability to grasp the education system would encourage you to leave him, but you did the exact opposite. You loved him to pieces, no amount of the flawed academic structure would change your mind about that. Even you didn’t take the formal route of college, your dream of becoming a writer meaning that no amount of student debt would improve the skills you had built up in your life. And Eddie supported your career choice, you spending your free time working on your latest book whilst working at a local bakery to help the Munsons pay their bills, you moving in with them shortly after you graduated high school.

However, there’s one topic that never got brought up, because in all honesty, you never thought it needed to be. You had been struggling to grasp your sexuality since you were a child, constantly flicking back and forth between men and women, society pressuring you to choose one, even if one of the options got you berated.

Luckily one day, you came across the term bisexuality, liking men and women, and everything fell into place. But, when Eddie would point out the hot women on the TV screen, you couldn’t help but shrivel up in your seat, knowing that you too found them attractive in the same way he did, not just in an admirable way like he assumed.

The constant agreements of “Mhmm, she’s pretty,” whenever Eddie would focus on Phoebe Cates would rip you apart, when on the inside you were screaming, “She’s the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen in my life.”

So, when Eddie decided to rent out a movie called “Desert Hearts,” a story about a female New York professor who falls for another woman whilst staying on a ranch, your heart couldn’t help but flutter. You had an idea he was accepting, Eddie not making any fuss when two boys got outed as gay at Hawkins High, but this was your full confirmation that he had the same attitude towards gay men and gay women.

“I can’t believe this is what people have a problem with,” Eddie complains, “I mean, Back to the Future had Marty find his own mom hot, but suddenly two women falling in love is the worst thing in the world.”

“You don’t mind?” you ask, curled up to Eddie’s chest as he strokes your hair.

“Not only do I not mind sweetheart, I really don’t care,” he admits, “Like, why in the hell would I care if two women are kissing, or cuddling, or even sleeping together for that matter? It’s not my life, and personally… I get it. Like, women are hot, I understand.”

You slightly laugh, nibbling at your fingernails in nervousness as Eddie looks down at you, “Why? Do you have a problem with it?”

“No, not at all… The complete opposite actually,” you purse your lips and frown, “Baby, can I tell you something?”

“Of course princess, anything you want.”

You sigh out, sitting up as you admit your deepest secret that you’ve ever kept hidden from him, “I like women too…”

He remains silent for a minute, letting out a quiet “Oh,” as you don’t look at each other, the both of you afraid of what the other will think. There’s one thing saying it, but when you are faced with it in reality, you can change your mind. You trusted Eddie with your life, but there was something inside of you afraid that, that could happen.

“Well… I’m proud of you for telling me sweetheart,” he says softly, “I can’t lie that after all these years, it does sting a little, but I hope you find the girl for you.”

You brows furrow in confusion, before you click on what you said, “Wait, baby, baby,” you shake your head, chuckling at your own words, a sense of embarrassment flooding your head, “I meant I like women too, as in, as well as men.”

“Oh,” he exclaims, breathing out and letting his head fall into your shoulder, wrapping his arms around your middle as he laughs, yours playing with the hairs at the back of his head. “Jesus fucking Christ sweetheart, are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

He lifts his head up, you placing your hands on his cheeks, “I’m sorry,” you quietly say, “But, yeah… That’s not a problem… is it?”

He lifts his eyebrows and snorts, “You still like men, you still like me, so… I think we’re okay,” he smiles, chuckling and leaning in to press a soft kiss to your lips, one that you gladly return.

“But…” he starts, “You know… if you really are just exclusively into women, you can tell me. Will it hurt like a bitch? Yes. But, in all honesty babe, it’s probably the best way to get broken up with,” he softly laughs.

“I promise you, I find both men and women extremely attractive. And out of everyone in the world, you rank the top of that list,” you flirt, Eddie slightly blushing as he presses a kiss to your neck, hugging you once again, the pair of you separating to shift into your previous comfy position.

“Okay, but now I have to ask,” he says, “Phoebe Cates is hot, right?”

You grin up at him, biting your lip, “So fucking hot.”

this was a lil short one, but i hope you enjoyed regardless!! <33

[jinx-on-mars-19xx]

Where the Sea and Land Kiss

Dom x Colson (Yungblud x Machine Gun Kelly)

Warnings: future ABO (possibly). No real warnings yet, this is really just a test. An idea @iamnotanearthlingmotherfucker and I were workshopping and I thought I'd see what everyone thinks. Cursing, boys looking at each other longingly, mentioned violence, vikings, magic, naked boys ☠️ Rating: mature

I'm not done with the other I swear, I've just been very sick with a lot on my mind so I've been resting but we talked about this and I had to test it out. I hope you enjoy 🖤

Something woke Kol'son from his deep sleep. He was always ready for battle, he had been raised to listen to every twig or crackle of the fire or shift of the wind but as his blue eyes opened just enough to scan the room he didn't feel danger. Whatever had made the noise didn't make the man's hackles rise or set an alarm off in his head. He'd been brought up to listen to his senses and trust his instincts but he was confused. Somehow he knew his home had been invaded but he didn't feel threatened. For a moment he thought one of his clan's children had come to him or possibly one of the women had snuck in to try and bed him again but the world quieted and he let a sigh escape.

The chieftain rolled on his side then to his belly, his soft cock ghosting against the unbelievably plush new pelt he'd been gifted and he couldn't help rolling his hips just to feel it a little more. He normally didn't accept gifts but there was something about the skin that drew him in. He folded his arms under his head and wiggled against the fur, letting the crackle of his fire lull him back to rest.

Damhnaic scoffed, he couldn't believe his pelt was being so molested by the warrior and he knew this was all his fault. All he'd wanted that morning was to get a closer look at the leader when members of his tribe fished in the boy's waters. He'd done it before, he'd been watching the man for years now but he must have gotten careless and left his fur where it could be stolen. When he returned to where he'd left it he found his hiding spot empty and a scent of children was left in its wake. He'd followed the group further than ever before, wandering after them all the way to their home and he waited in the tree line for darkness. His senses had of course led him here. To the leader. The naked, sleeping, quite frankly gorgeous leader and his pelt under him. Fuck it was just his luck.

"Join or fuck off." A gruff voice sounded and the selkie jumped, his jade eyes wide, his plush bottom lip rolling between his teeth. The man couldn't be talking to him could he? As he looked around he realized no one else was with them. He'd never been spoken to by a human. That wasn't allowed. "Your third option is die but my bed is new and I don't want blood on it."

Kol'son hadn't moved to look who was in his hut, he assumed one of the women but when he didn't hear anything he peeked across the room. In the shadows was a beautiful boy but the firelight caught his eyes and they reflected like the beasts of the land. That… wasn't normal. Must have been a trick of the light. "Are you lost?" He sighed, rolling back to his side and propping himself up on his elbow. Perhaps it was a son of another tribe who fell behind during a hunt. The kid looked young. Younger than him and he wasn't truly chieftain age, he wouldn't hold his position if not for his father's untimely death. He tried to live up to his name's promise, especially with something like that, but he knew at times he could be too soft. He should be gutting the intruder, not sitting up and trying his hardest not to scare him.

He pushed a hand through his hair, the blonde braids tickling his shoulder as he tilted his head and watched the kid. "Do you need something? Besides clothes?" Shit he was naked and beautiful and it made the man realize they were both bare to the elements. It was after all though his home. The intruder was the strange one.

"As if you can talk." The boy couldn't help but quip and he clamped his jaw shut. His first words to a human were sarcastic. Of course. He could just hear his mother's voice screaming in his head about the evil men and their brutal nature. His pelt was already stolen, he was fucked.

The chieftain surprised him by laughing, his head thrown back, his stomach muscles clenching. He couldn't help but stare at the tattooed and scarred skin. For a human he was gorgeous and if he smirked back and took a few steps closer no one could blame him. The bastard was magnetic. "Come, sit next to the fire and relax boy. Tell me where you're from. I don't recognize your accent." Kol'son knew that was a bad sign, the kid sounded far different than anything he'd heard before and he had been on plenty of travels.

"Let's jus' say I'm… from across the sea." Damhnaic tried not to laugh at his own joke as he stepped closer and bravely took a seat on his own fucking pelt. It wasn't the first time but it was definitely the first anyone else had shared it with him. Especially naked. What was happening? "Me people traveled 'ere and um… we lost our way. I got separated from 'em and found me way 'ere. When I saw ya fire was still burning I… I was cold." He shrugged, most of it was close enough to the truth. He didn't think he could get his skin back easily so perhaps making nice with the human would keep him safe for the night. He could steal it back in the morning and run for it. No harm no foul.

"Kol'son." The man nodded.

"I know."

"What?"

"Nuffin. I… 'eard someone. Um yeah, Damhnaic." When the human offered his arm to embrace the boy got nervous. He'd thought of touching him for so long but… that definitely wasn't allowed. As the chieftain tried to pronounce his name he felt something in his belly bubble, a rush of giddy nerves that had him reaching out and clasping the inked forearm. The Viking felt strong, his muscles bunching under his touch as they grasped and shook, greeting each other and lingering longer than strictly necessary. "Dom works." He finally giggled when the difference between their tongues was too glaringly obvious. It was cute the way he tried to shape sounds he'd never heard. He knew enough of the Viking's language to know that his name meant dark. Virtuous. Leader. Something far more beautiful than his own, he never felt like a gift for a god. He remembered the man's father, most of the clan he'd been following seemed nice and he still remembered the sound of his new friend's cries when he was told of his father's death at sea.

The newcomer got a faraway look and Kol accidentally tightened his hold. The boy's skin felt cool to the touch, almost wet in a way and he couldn't seem to let go. "Where are you?" He whispered, watching the orange flames flicker in the boy's big eyes but his voice startled him.

"Nowhere. Sorry I- I'm tired." Dom smiled, pulling his hand back and tucking his long raven hair behind his pointed ear. His skin almost burned where they'd touched as if he was forever marked. How was the human so hot? He didn't think they were supposed to run so warm. "I should go." He whispered into the air between them but he made no move to escape.

"Stay." Kol'son sighed back before shaking himself and clearing his throat. If he didn't know better he'd think the boy magic. There certainly was a spell over him. He shouldn't let someone sleep in his home but he didn't want him leaving. He couldn't bear it. "You're welcome here. Just sleep and in the morning we can find you something to wear and fill your belly and I'll try and help you find your way home." There, that sounded like something a leader would do. Right?

Damhnaic smiled and chewed nervously at his lip. The Viking was surprised by the sharpness of his teeth but he knew other clans sometimes did that to their people to scare off others. Give them an edge. He just hoped the boy wasn't from one of the cannibal tribes. Shit maybe he should ask more but not yet. The kid looked exhausted and scared.

Dom shifted down, a little confused at the offer but he tried to lay on his own damn pelt and rest. His gaze fell to the fire instead of the man but he could still feel the heavy blue eyes on his skin and when Kol'son finally laid down and got comfortable he swore he could feel the touch even though he wasn't in his own fur. He didn't know how he was supposed to sleep but perhaps laying on a bed with the human all night wouldn't be so bad. He would just enjoy the company and leave when the leader was distracted. He just needed to wait for a moment he could secret his self away. That was all. He was just trying to keep his pack safe. Keep hidden. That was obviously the only reason he would stay the night. Obviously. One night and no longer. What harm could it be?

Author's Note/Tags: @iamnotanearthlingmotherfucker @manicpixiedreamb0y @hollywoodxwhore @jaxbreaker @cole-way-iero28

This is a viking/selkie AU if that wasn't obvious. Names have been slightly altered but they're still them. I'm not totally sure how this will go so let me know what you think. I'm nervous. I've never done anything more story than sex 😂🖤☠️

[ladyintree]

taissa frowns,  because of course she cares.   but mikayla also has reason to doubt that  —   it's not like tai ever gave her any other option.  she looks down,  her head shaking slightly as her jaw clenches more,  because she's afraid of whatever emotion she's bound to show when she lifts her head again,  assuming mikayla will only laugh in her face.  ❝  more people than you think,  ❞  she mumbles,  because she's certain it's not even just her —  other survivors have asked taissa how mikayla was doing after the attack and after her release from prison,  and tai felt so ashamed when she had no real answer for them.   that doesn't mean she ever cared any less.    she lets out a scoff,  finally looking back to her when she mentions her dad,  a topic she's certain she hasn't earned any right to comment on.   ❝  it does matter,  ❞   she says quietly.   ❝  i’m glad you’re alive.  ❞   she gulps,  afraid that mikayla won’t even believe her—  but it’s not even just about whatever happened to her weeks about.  it’s about her dad, too, about being relieved that she beat him,  that he didn’t get to have the last word.  she should have told her that a long time ago — but all the letters she attempted to write never felt like the right words.  

her lips purse together,  not entirely surprised she's said no,  but she was hopeful anyway.  she only ever wanted mikayla's life to be better than what she was given —  and she did such a horrible job ensuring that would happen,  the way she promised herself and once made mikayla believe.  she frowns again as she tells her she never got anything she wanted,  but it's hard to put herself in that box  —   it's been so long,  and while she knows she'll always love mikayla,  she can't even assume they'd still be right for each other.  maybe they're only farther than ever now.  it's what she has to believe, anyway, since she's moved on with someone so different than her and told herself this is what makes the most sense for her future.  and maybe mikayla's moved on, too—   but selfishly,  she's afraid to ask.   mikayla doesn’t get the luxury of not knowing,  but at least for now,  maybe tai does.  ❝  i didn't know that was still the dream,  ❞   she says quietly,  understanding why it never worked out.  but she remembers their conversations about the future,  how mikayla wasn't certain back then  —    she didn't know what to expect from the way mikayla's life turned out after.   ❝  your life isn't over,  ❞     she reminds,  letting out a sigh as she looks over her features.  ❝  there's still time.  ❞   ironic, coming from her—   she was barely off the plane, back in civilization, and already desperate to get on with her life,  because 19 months were wasted and she felt way too far behind.   mikayla's life was on hold for 19 months + 5 more years,  and tai can't even fathom what that's been like.  she's never given herself the opportunity to ask for herself.  

she winces again,  the casual way she speaks about what her father did to her making her anxious in a way she hasn't felt in years,  but she knows she has to match mikayla's energy just to keep up with her.  it's just proven more difficult than expected, all the times she imagined if this would happen.   ❝  okay.  i get it—   ❞  she mutters,  and she's glad to know she's being cautious,  even if still hopeful that her mother isn't as bad as taissa always assumed.  ❝  so you really are back,  then?  you're living here?   i have to be honest,  i kind of assumed you were done with new jersey.  ❞   

her eyes close,  and she regrets her choice of words now,  even if they were honest.  ❝  i’m not just going to stand here and listen to you say you're not,  just because of —   because of what happened to you.  it didn't make me think less of you,  ❞   she insists with a scoff as she looks back at her.  she hadn’t considered that mikayla might assume that’s what she thinks— so it’s spoken casually, like it’s obvious,  because she’d hoped it was.   she takes a deep breath, attempting to ground herself again,  because she’s still right—  simone knows about her first love, she knows she found it in the wilderness,  but she doesn’t know who it is.  maybe tai’s pokerface isn’t as good as she thinks it is, though, and her response to hearing mikayla’s name in the news may give her away— but she tries not to dwell on it.  it’s best that simone doesn’t know who,  and tai’s grateful she doesn’t press for details.   ❝  you’re right,   ❞   she mumbles apologetically.   ❝  i’ll stop,  ❞   she insists, holding a hand up in defense,  but she can’t ignore the way that just reminds her of all the compliments she wishes she could share with her— how easy they always came before,  how she doesn’t even have to see her to know she’s the most beautiful woman she’d ever met.  does she realize that?

tai rolls her eyes, frustrated by this back and forth.  it’s not the same as the sparring matches from when they were teenagers,  caught up in their feelings for each other but refusing to do anything about it  (  or for tai, even accept that she had feelings for her at all.  )   tai doesn’t have that same confidence this time around.  she usually does,  because she’s made sure of it these past few years— but she feels so much smaller in front of mikayla,  and every time she speaks,  tai feels even more lost,  forced to face all the questions she’s never been able to answer herself,  but it was fine,  because she had control over it when she wasn’t standing in front of mikayla.  knowing she kept it makes her heart ache,  thinking about how different things might have been if they had just seen each other before they were ripped apart.  even just one conversation might have grounded them, put them on the same page.  it still could have happened afterwards,  if tai hadn’t been a coward.   she frowns, knowing she had to lose it— but it reminds her of something else, the necklace locked away in a box.  it might have her name on it, but it became mikayla’s, and it still feels like it.  she wishes she could offer that to her now,  like some kind of consolation— but she knows that’s not her place.   ❝  right.  well.  i wouldn’t have blamed you if you threw it out yourself, first,  ❞   she says quietly. 

her jaw clenches, her lips in a hard line as she glares back at her.  she hates being called out— at least when it’s a lie, she can eventually shake it off, but even though mikayla’s not right about everything,  there’s still some truth to her words.  ❝  ‘need’ you?  ❞    she scoffs,  rubbing at her forehead as she tries to keep herself calm.  ❝  that’s what you think it was?  that i just needed you?  ❞   she did need her,  maybe she still does, because her ability to love mikayla is the only thing that reminds tai she isn’t heartless.  but her relationship with mikayla didn’t start out of need—  it was desire,  what felt like a magnetic pull between them that told them they belonged together.  she believed it then;  she still believes it, even though they can’t go there again.   ❝  god, you are half right about everything, mikayla,  ❞   she mutters,  shaking her head.  ❝  what simone and i have is not about how it makes me look.  ❞   that’s true, technically—  but it’s a benefit she’s grateful for, anyway, and mikayla’s words will likely stick with her.  her best mode of defense is to tell mikayla it’s about love—  but she’s afraid she’ll choke on those words in front of her. 

she has to look away when the words are in past tense.  it’s expected,  because why would mikayla still love her after everything?  it’s just hard for her to accept, given that she knows falling out of love with mikayla was never an option.   she takes a deep breath, another attempt to not let her nerves get the best of her.  ❝  yeah,  ❞   she mumbles, barely loud enough to hear.   ❝  i hope you do.  you deserve it, too.   ❞    she deserves it more than taissa, she knows that for certain.  simone loves her so easily,  despite how hard tai imagines it should be— but then again, tai isn’t giving her all of her,  either.   when it’s all of her — all the flaws and horrors included — she’s certain mikayla’s the only one who could truly stomach her.  

❝  you deserve someone who will treat you right.  ❞   because that wasn’t taissa—   but her words are careful still, because she doesn’t think anyone could love her the way or as much as taissa did and still does.  their love knew no bounds— until tai tried to force them.   she frowns,  because tai’s the one who claimed it was over long ago,  but maybe there was always a hope that there was still a chance out there.  that was never fair to mikayla,  leaving her hanging on,  as if tai could ever give her what she deserved—  but it’s still hard to accept that it might actually be the end.  ❝  i’m—  ❞   a quick pause, like she’s afraid to choke.  ❝  sorry it didn’t work out.   with us.  ❞   it feels wrong, the direct mention of them,  maybe because that’s such an understatement of what happened, and a weak apology for what tai owes her.  because it’s not that it just didn’t work out— it could have.  tai just didn’t let it.  there are other explanations she wishes she could give— like that she hadn’t planned to move on, hadn’t sought it out, hadn’t expected it.  it just happened.  and it was never about replacing mikayla as much as it was filling a void she knew from the beginning no one else could ever accomplish.  

the business card in her hand almost feels heavier than the ring on her finger,  because she always thought that if she ever had a direct way to contact mikayla, she’d finally let herself.  now, things are different.  she’s committed to a new life without mikayla,  and she’s not even sure mikayla’s giving her this because she wants her to call—  because what is left of their relationship?  they could never make it as friends,  too much distrust and lingering feelings,  and she’s a walking-talking reminder that tai’s life is a sham.   it makes her curious enough to actually ask—  even if just for her own peace of mind.  ❝  you actually want to help?  ❞   she asks curiously, her eyes narrowing in on her as she continues to hold the card like it’s a bomb waiting to go off.  ❝  you want me to call you?  ❞  she nearly flinches at her own words.  it’s a question she’s wondered for a long time— back then, when she should have asked in the first place, too afraid she was only going to make things worse for mikayla and herself if she did speak to her.  did she want her to call then?  it’s a question she should have let mikayla answer, not assume for herself just to justify her own disappearance. 

her eyes shoot up to hers when she tells her she taught her that.  it’s ironic, if that really is the case— if she taught mikayla that love was bullshit, and mikayla’s the one who taught her love exists in the first place,  that she was even capable of it.  her jaw clenches hard,  her hand bringing the business card into her pocket where she buries her hands again,  the ring starting to weigh even heavier now,  especially with the word ‘actual.’  a big part of her just wants to break down and scream at mikayla,  remind her that she was always and will always be the love of her life,  that there was never going to be anyone else no matter who she was with or what she found.  she opens her mouth to say it,  but she closes it again,  because she can’t be impulsive,  not when she’s worked for years to perfect this life she chose.  she’s getting married;  she’s committing to another woman who loves her and wants nothing more than to be with her.  mikayla was right;  she’d only ruin her image,  and tai can’t shake the guilt she feels even considering that now,  knowing that mikayla’s still her only real key to genuine happiness, they kind they’d both deserve after everything — but she already closed the door.  and there’s a part of her that can see through mikayla’s facade enough to understand that she isn’t as over all of this as she wants to be,  but there’s another part of doubt in her telling her that mikayla’s too smart to ever consider a life with tai again after it all, anyway.  if she undoes everything she’s built while sacrificing her relationship with mikayla,  what are all those years of pain for?  

she lets out a breath,  standing up straighter.  ❝  i hope you find it someday,  ❞   she says,  trying to ignore the way her voice lightly falters,  because she doesn’t want to believe that mikayla didn’t think it was real— but she forces herself to anyway, because it’s the only way for her to move forward.  ❝  real love.  ❞   if mikayla’s paying enough attention,  it’s obvious in the way her mouth droops and her eyes seem so tired that she hasn’t even actually found that— not after mikayla.  ❝  don’t let me .  .  .    ruin that for you.  ❞

the way tai's looking at her gets under her skin, because now, she decides to care? mikayla's not sure how many times she's almost died in the last eight years— the first time was the night she killed her father, obviously, followed by several fights throughout prison, countless times when she considered ending it herself, both in and out of prison, even if she never actually brought herself to do anything. “ who gives a shit? ” she knows the answer to that, still feeling guilty for what she put travis through that night, even if none of it was intentional. there's a lot she doesn't want to admit, like the fact that a part of her wanted to die— selfishly, she was annoyed that she survived it, though she knows that's not fair to the people who care about her. and that doesn't include tai, does it? “ it doesn't matter. i lived. it's no wonder my dad called me a fucking cockroach. ” an insult she used to find amusing, simply because he was irritated by it, because her survival inconvenienced him, but now it feels like as much of an inconvenience to herself.

she lets out an overdramatic, indignant snort, accompanied by a just-as-dramatic roll of her eyes, because it is true, and tai's proof of that. but she drops it, because calling her out for being the first person who decided they didn't want her isn't the way to prove mikayla's over it— because she's not, but she's not willing to admit that to tai. “ fuck no. i wanted to be a cheerleader, remember? ” not really, but it still annoys her that that door is closed, because just like everywhere else, the nfl doesn't want someone with a criminal charge. “ but it's whatever. my entire life's just revolved around me not getting anything i want. ” tai wouldn't know what that's like, since it seems like it's the opposite for her— she's gotten everything she ever wanted. the success, the career, the girl. mikayla can't even get one of those.

the question feels ridiculous, and it's just another reminder of just how little they know about each other. does tai even care, or is she only asking in some attempt to make small talk, because she thinks she owes it to mikayla to pretend to give a shit about her life when she never seemed to before? “ uh, no. the last time i lived with a parent, they tried to fucking kill me. i'm not doing that again. ” she doesn't think aphrodite would, but that doesn't mean she trusts her enough to let her close. “ she just paid for an apartment. it's the least she could do after fucking leaving me. ” the anger in her voice actually has little to do with tai leaving her, and more to do with the blame mikayla's placed on her mother for everything, like maybe if aphrodite stayed, her life wouldn't be so fucked up.

she's the one who brought it up, but she still hates talking about her mugshot, because she assumes that's what made tai decide she no longer wanted her— that she took one look at her, ignored the fact that it meant she almost died, the way most of the media did, and decided that mikayla desousa was too damaged to be worth loving anymore. again, she rolls her eyes, because being beautiful means nothing when that's all she's good for— and clearly, she's not even beautiful enough for tai anymore, so what's the point? “ stop calling me that. i don't think your fucking fiancee would be happy. ” because that's what tai's going to care about— not mikayla's feelings, but the girl she's engaged to, the girl who replaced her.

“ maybe to me? ” she repeats, unable to keep the anger from bleeding into her tone, because tai can't be fucking serious. all of it was real to mikayla. she's not the one who left it all behind, who treated tai like she was nothing, like she was dead. “ yeah, i fucking kept mine. but i lost it when i got arrested. just like i lost everything else. ” just like i lost you, she means, but maybe she lost tai sooner than that. maybe she lost her the moment they were rescued, when tai no longer needed mikayla— and yeah, maybe tai kept the ring, but only as a reminder of how fucking low her standards were at some point, how she was desperate enough to be with mikayla desousa of all people.

it's hard for mikayla not to see killing her dad as a fuck up, not just because of tai, but because it ruined mikayla's life in every other sense, too. had she not killed him, had she just escaped somehow, her life wouldn't be as pointless as it is now, but it's too late for that. he's dead, the blood's on her hands, and everyone in the world knows it. “ don't i? ” she asks with a bitter laugh. “ i don't know who the fuck you are now, but i knew you back then. you stopped giving a shit about me the moment you didn't need me anymore. what's going to happen if she stops making you look good? ” she's assuming that's what her fiancee does, anyway— because she knows that's why tai didn't want her, because being seen with a felon wouldn't be good for her image.

“ i am, yeah. i did love you once. ” speaking of it in past tense makes her feel sick, but it's necessary, because she's not pathetic enough to admit she still loves her, not when tai's in love with someone else. “ i'm glad one of us can get what we wanted. ” she means that, too, even if it hurts, knowing that she's not part of it. she clenches her jaw, taking a shaky breath, because she doesn't know how to react to tai insisting their marriage wasn't fake when it goes against everything mikayla's convinced herself of for the past few years. “ it doesn't matter what it was, ” she decides instead of arguing. “ it's over now. hope it works out better for you this time. ” maybe she doesn't fully mean that, because even if she's told herself this entire time that she's not trying to get tai back, she'd be lying if she said she doesn't hope that tai doesn't change her mind— that tai realizes she does miss what they had after all, that she wants mikayla instead, even if the rational part of her knows that won't happen.

she's not even confident that tai's going to keep the card, that she's not going to throw it out the moment mikayla's out of sight— so really, the joke's on herself, because she's going to spend the next few weeks staring at her phone again, waiting for a call that'll never come, like she's twenty years old again. at least she expects it this time; at least she knows tai doesn't love her, unlike back then. she lets out another amused snort, unsure why tai's looking at her like that, like she's not the reason mikayla doesn't believe in love anymore. “ you taught me that. ” she forces another smile, like she's moved on, even if someone who's moved on wouldn't be insisting that love's bullshit. “ it might've kept me alive out there, but it killed me back here. i'm not stupid enough to want that again. but like i said— maybe it'll work out for you now that you've found the actual love of your life. ”

[hekate1308]

Present Blessings, A Drowley Advent Calendar, December 4

Masterpost

Read it on AO3

Crowley had long considered Sam Winchester to be one of the best lawyers he had ever met, so naturally, he had offered him a job as quickly as possible, and the temptation of a salary that would ensure he got rid of his student loans much faster than he had ever anticipated had made the young man agree to work for him, even though he had never made a secret of the fact that he didn’t think much of Crowley.

He had never held it against it – as a matter of fact, he thought more of him for it. There were leagues of people who were ready to pretend to worship him if it brought them any advantage whatsoever; Sam Winchester was a different breed altogether.

However, this also meant that, whenever he asked for an appointment, things were not going well, and today of all days, that was not something he wanted to hear.

Sam entered and glanced at Dean, visibly confused.

“Sam, this is Dean, my new PA.”

He could practically see the words Another one? And so fast? popping up over the young lawyer’s head but he knew better than to comment instead simply greeting Dean.

“Heya” he grinned at him as well (Crowley felt something that was almost – no it couldn’t be) and waved his – oh God, he had an actual clipboard in addition to the headset. “Glad to meet you.”

“Yes” Sam said distractedly, probably wondering why he looked so chipper. “It’s about Arthur Ketch” he then added.

Crowley sighed – he really should have known better than to work with him, but at the time it had seemed like a good deal. “What does he want?”

“Let’s just say, he’s threatening to sue – I think there’s nothing to this case, and everyone in the legal department agrees with me – but you should know about it.”

“Alright. Tell me. Dean –“

“Of course sir, I’m writing everything down” he chirped happily and Sam shot his newest hire (if you wanted to put it like that) another confused look, probably because he had called Crowley sir, which Sam refused to do.

“Good” he said smoothly, doing his best not to appear smug. Let that young will-o-the-whisp think being deliberately impolite to his boss was a power move; an actual angel thought it would be better to use the correct terms when addressing him.

“Yes – so –“

“I assume this is about our consulting contract?” It was the most logical option, but with someone like Ketch, he couldn’t just assume.

Sam nodded. Of course he was already carrying the file.

Crowley sighed. “Alright, let’s get on with it.”

And they went through it. To his surprise, his – well, Dean, turned out exactly the sort of PA he had so often wished for. Unobtrusive, made sure they had water and coffee (actually good coffee, maybe he had used whatever powers were at his disposal again), kept meticulous notes. Sam was clearly as surprised as he himself, since right up to the end of her meeting, he kept trailing off to stare at Dean like he had grown a second head.

After he had left, Dean declared, “He seems like a good man.”

“Exactly. So shouldn’t you… I don’t know, be guarding him, instead of trying to lecture hard-working –“

“Guarding?” Dean blinked at him. ”What do you mean?”

“Guardian angels?”

“Why should we be guarding anyone or anything? We’re warriors of God.”

And suddenly, Dean’s eyes looked much older than his… than his appearance, and Crowley became very aware that if he truly was an angel, or if he truly believed so at least, he must think that he was million of years old…

He wondered what that would be like. Actually having seen the world be created. Mesopotamia. The fall of the Roman Empire.

“This assignment doesn’t seem very warrior-like to me.”

He actually shuffled his feet. “Well, I was always part of the artillery. Till I get my wings, that is.”

So there was some form of hierarchy…

Not that he was treating this like any of it was true, because it couldn’t be. It would be utterly insane, just like his sadly attractive visitor.

But still – “Let me see the notes.”

Huh. Those were some bloody meticulous notes. “Where did you learn that?”

“Learn? I just wrote down what you two said.”

Seemed like being an angel brought some perks with it, not that it made Heaven any more appealing to Crowley. He’d always been destined for Hell, and made his peace with it a long time ago.

“Alright. So I assume there’s nothing I can say to make you reconsider?”

“Nope. I want my wings.”

It was interesting, this focus on wings. Undoubtedly, he’d make a psychologist very happy one day in the near future, when Crowley had him removed and seen to.

[starryluce]

Level one

Eddie Munson x reader

(No specific pronouns are used but Eddie does refer to reader as the hellfire princess)

summary- After Sinclair bails on another DND game, Mike and Dustin bring in the reader who has never played DND (desperate times call for desperate measures). Usually news like this would upset Eddie and cause him to just delay the game, but he thinks he can make an exception but only for you of course.

warnings- grammar errors

words- 1k

Mike and Dustin knew you weren't the ideal player for DND, you've never played in your life but the poor boys were desperate to find a sub for Sinclair. And they knew Eddie wouldn't take too long to warm up to you even if he would be annoyed that they sent the most inexperienced player they could ever find.

"Y/N L/N?" Eddie questioned, surprised to see you in a school you haven't attended in over a year. Let alone the Hellfire Club room.

"Hi Eddie" you smiled at him, a genuine smile, a smile Eddie rarely receives.

"Y/N is going to sub in for Sinclair" Dustin blurted, Eddie moves his head to his side as a confused German shepherd would.

"You play DND?" Eddie asked, biting his lip. "I do as of today," you responded, Eddie, sighs at your words.

"Eddie look are other option was Sinclair's little sister!" Mike defended himself and Dustin, Eddie just shakes his head. "I would be an idiot to not want to introduce DND to the new hellfire princess," Eddie stated, "Take a seat, princess" Eddie suggested, pulling out the chair seated right next to him.

"But that's where I si-"

"Not anymore" Eddie stated, glaring at his bandmate. "Now let's work on making your character," Eddies said, pulling out a bunch of papers which you assume are character sheets.

"Can I be a half-elf?" you asked him, with those eyes that Eddie found to be the prettiest in all the kingdoms. "You can be whatever you like," Eddie responded, words falling out like a man in love.

The other members of hellfire all gave each other weird stares at Eddie's behavior. Eddie for one hated new players, he thought it was a waste of time teaching them the ropes and helping set up a character. Mike even remembers when some poor kid tried to join hellfire with no experience, and Eddie stressed the kid out so much they didn't even get done making his character. But with you, Eddie seemed to not mind at all. In fact, the boy seemed ecstatic to help you figure out your character.

After about thirty minutes your character was all set up, you may be a level one half-elf, but Eddie spoke like you were going to defeat every bad guy you came across. Saying shit like "With this skill, you're gonna make them sorry they were ever born".

---

"Congratulation Princess you defeated Vecna on your first round" Eddie bowed, as you smiled at him.

"Excuse me we all won," Mike snapped "And y/n barely did anything" Mike added on. "Keep it up Mike and you'll get kicked out of hellfire," Eddie snapped back, staring daggers into Mike's eyes. "Anyways I suggest you move up to level 3," Eddie stated, the entire group in shock because they couldn't even remember the last time Eddie suggested any of them level up.

"Anyways all of you out!" Eddie exclaimed, Mike and Dustin were out the door first, you not too far behind. "except you, you stay" Eddie said, pulling you back into the room, while everyone else went out the door.

"Don't listen to Mike you did a good job those losers couldn't have done it without you," You smiled at Eddie's words. "I'm not sure about that," you responded, Eddie just shook his head at you.

"You know Chemistry really sucks know that you're not my lab partner," he admitted, looking down at the floor. "Shouldn't have failed it," you teased him, but the joke made him frown. "I'm sorry Eddie, I didn't mean t-" you started but got interrupted by Eddie. "No, it's okay,"

"I've just missed you, a lot. I know we were never that close and it's probably weirding you out that I th-"

"I've missed you too, Eds" You confessed, putting your arms around his neck to pull him into a hug. Eddies arms went around your waist instantly. It may have been just a regular hug but Eddie felt like he was about to pass out due to excitement.

You were the first to pull away, Eddie's hand still lingered on your waist. "Uh, would you want to join Hellfire? Like officially?" he asked, he was subconsciously giving you his puppy dog eyes. "Yeah, I'd like that a lot actually" you answered, Eddie's hands left your waist and he did a little dance of excitement, saying yes a bunch of times. His little dance caused you to giggle, Eddie looking over at you. "Oh, your gonna laugh at me now… I invite you to my exclusive club and you laugh at me?" he teased, making you giggle more. "Oh ill give you a better reason to laugh," you stopped your laughter, trying to grab Eddie's hand before they attack your sides.

"EDDIE!" you yelled, uncontrollably giggling due to him ticking you. "Pl- please" you begged him, his fingertips showing no mercy. "Please what princess?" he taunted, god he loved the sound of your laughter. "S- st- stop" you were barely able to get it out. Eddies hands finally pulled away from you. Eddie was now the one laughing at you, "Not funny Eddie," you pouted, Eddie stopped laughing and put his hands up in defense.

Eddie's hands went to grab his backpack and put it on the table, digging threw it he pulled out one of a Hellfire Club Shirts (that was surprisingly neatly folded in his bag). "For you m'lady, I hope you can forgive me," he said, handing you the t-shirt and the bowing.

"I think I can forgive you under one condition," you teased him

"Oh yeah and what may that be," he responded

"You take me out for dinner and a movie, this Friday at 6" you suggested to him, trying to sound as confident as possible even though your heart was beating out of your chest. Eddie was feeling a similar way shocked that you asked him out, was it a date? he hopes it's a date.

"Who would I be if I didn't treat the princess of hellfire to dinner and a movie?" he asked

"A pretty lousy dungeons master," you joked, Eddie, smiled at your teasing.

"Well we couldn't have that, would we? Imagine what that would do to my totally great reputation," you both laughed at his comment.

"So it's a date?"

"It's a date."

[atsumiye]

you’re sitting next to suna rintaro on the train.

and things would all be fine and dandy had you two not just been through what you would call, the worst breakup of the century. because you know you both have at least 10 more stops before he possibly gets off and 12 more until you need to get off. and with no other free seats it seems the universe wanted to make your day even worse.

you can tell he is just as uncomfortable as you are, and you're trying to keep your leg from touching his, but the woman next to you finds it impossible to stay still, so you end up much closer to him than you would like. and you never meant to sit next to each other, but you happened to get on at the same stop and sat down before you looked to your left and he looked to his right and your heads have never snapped forward so fast.

he coughs once, then twice before asking, "hey y/n, how are you?"

you keep your eyes trained onto the shoes you are wearing- a birthday gift he got you from 2 years ago and out of all days, today was the first day you could put them on without wanting to cry.

"im good. how are you?" you can feel his eyes trained on the side of your head, begging for some sort of acknowledgement, something that shows him that you still care.

"good."

"cool."

"cool."

after some silence, you hear him take a breath in and you know hes about to say something big because you remember how he always twists the ring on his pointer finger and takes a deep breath before he drops some news. the same way he did when he broke up with you.

"look, i think-"

but his voice gets interrupted by the sound of your ringtone and for once in your life, you thank your lucky stars that miya atsumu decided to call you today. you silence your phone, declining the call and whispering a small 'sorry' to everyone for the volume you had left your phone at.

"you gave atsumu your new number?"

"ah, yeah he wanted it because he sometimes calls to talk, but not often." you mumble the sentence out and your eyes move from their place on your shoes to your lit up screen with a text from atsumu.

atsumu: i tried to call but you declined and first RUDE?

atsumu: but! i actually had something important to say and now you shall suffer in case you actually see him >:(

atsumu: sunarin also went to the train station and i think hes taking the same train home

y/n: its a bit late for that stupid.

and sliding your phone back into your bag, you ignore the constant buzzing, most likely from atsumu trying to get all the details he can of the literal train wreck this situation has become.

"uh, i was saying earlier how im really sorry for the way things ended y/n. i've regretted it every day since and i just-"

he abruptly stops his sentence, and you can only assume he probably changed his mind or he just doesn't care about this situation anymore. and you think maybe it would be a better option to just walk home at this point.

"cant you look at me?" he whispers out and you sigh, "i dont want to suna."

"im sorry."

"okay."

"y/n, please. i just want to talk." he leans forward in his seat to get a better view of your face, "you changed your number. you didn't answer the door. you sent back all the things i mailed. you wouldn't allow anyone to tell me how you are. how was i supposed-"

"did you love me suna?"

he sputters, "of course i did y/n. what kind of question is that?"

"then let me move on." he watches you drop your head as a few tears silently fall into your lap, "if i meant anything to you, please. just let me move on."

and as your stop gets called, you’re grateful for whatever supernatural power made the train seem like it moved faster as you stand up and wait near the door, willing yourself to keep some of your dignity and save the tears for home. as the doors open, you step out tightening your hold on your bag and begin walking to the exit, only to turn back around at the sound of suna yelling.

"no." he stands up to meet you at the open door, still inside the train, "you meant everything to me and that's why i wont let you go. not until you give us one more try. ill do anything i can to get you back just once more. you got that y/n?"

you stand there speechless, finally meeting eyes with the one person you never wanted to see again.

and the doors to the train close.

part of the series; look at me

[erghlrblrblrblr]

@sapphire-heart-tippy

"I suppose I'll let you out for a little bit, now that I have some other things to attend to today," Dio crooned condescendingly, stroking Jonathan's damp, disheveled mop of dark blue hair with exaggerated mock pity as he cautiously removed the severed head from his liquid prison with a gentleness uncharacteristic of his usual cruel self.

Jonathan sighed, in spite of his lack of lungs, as Dio set him down on the mansion's smooth floor, stroking his hair like he some kind of macabre pet, with hands that once were his own.

"Now, promise me you won't stray too far, Jojo," Dio requested, politely.

Jonathan was silent as he lay on his side on the floor, shaking off the remaining elixir that dripped from his hair and onto his face.

"Speak up, Jojo," demanded Dio. "You've made me well aware that you can speak."

It had been many years, decades perhaps, since Jonathan had lost his body to Dio. Yet his wretched brother, in an act of both kindness and cruelty, restored him to life: a new life as but a fraction of his former self. A new life dependent on Dio as his benefactor, and dependent on his dark magic to survive.

And in all those years, he had not uttered a word.

Not that he couldn't: he had no lungs, his Hamon long lost, yet he could speak, with a voice projected by magic.

He simply didn't want to speak to Dio after everything he had done, refused to address him in silent spite, to such an extent that Dio, for the longest time, had assumed that his brother's severed head was mute, until recently, much to his surprise.

"Promise me, Jojo." Dio repeated impatiently.

The response that came was quiet, yet with a hint of the familiar defiance. "I promise." And after a pause, he added, "Not like I have much of a choice."

Ah, he's still got the attitude, grinned Dio to himself.

"Very true, dear brother," Dio replied, taking a seat in the dimly-lit kitchen. "It's not like you are able to get far in your...predicament, anyway."

Escape had never been an option, anyway.

It was routine now for Dio to regularly remove Jonathan from his jar and let him roam around the mansion, returning him back to his confinement in a container at the end of the day. He had considered it, from time to time, to simply make a break for it, to finally be free of his brother's clutches. Yet his progress was slow and cumbersome, and even had he managed to leave, he would be separated from the elixir that granted him life, and he would eventually perish a second time.

Jonathan, immortal as he was, was trapped with his equally-immortal brother for what well could be an eternity.

"Now crawl along and be a good little head," Dio urged him, waving him away with a flick of his hand like with a particularly disobedient pet. "And be sure to be back in the kitchen by sunrise."

"I will," Jonathan grumbled morosely with a promise he had no choice but to keep.

He began his now-familiar squirming motion to propel himself forward, slowly stretching his neck--or what was left of it--and anchoring his chin to the floor before bending his neck once more to pull himself forward. It was slow and difficult, yet it was his only means of locomotion, which Dio said he should be grateful he was able to move at all.

As Jonathan wriggled away from the room, he could feel Dio's eyes fixated upon him. Though he didn't look behind, he could sense his arrogant gaze, reveling in the spectacle of his once powerful rival, once tall and mighty, now reduced to a pathetic, helpless head, still defiantly struggling with what little independence he had left.

Dio did admire him somewhat, after all. Enough to bring him back to life, at least.

But what kind of life?

Jonathan inched his way along the dimly-lit halls of the mansion, well-suited to a vampire's liking, he thought. It was a dismal, empty place, but it was at least a relief from the boredom of being kept inside a jar all day, gawked at and treated like some kind of strange, morbid trinket.

He dragged himself forward with his chin, careful to keep his neck stump off the ground. Where his body had been severed a grisly, open wound remained, which pained him whenever it made contact with a solid object. Behind him, he left a slippery trail as he squirmed along like some strange blue-haired slug, residues of the elixir he was soaked in every day and which he could not go very long without.

He began to make his slow progress to the balcony. He always liked it there.

There was the fresh air, the view of the night sky, the sounds and smells of the world outside Dio's mansion. The sounds of nature, the blowing of the wind, the views of the distant lights of the city that gleamed in the horizon.

The closest that Jonathan would ever come to freedom, and one of the reasons he decided to continue living.

He had, on several occasions, contemplated on simply concealing himself somewhere Dio would never find him so he could just dry out and die. Yet the tantalizing promise of being free, and being alive to experience beauty and happiness in what small amounts he could find it, kept him going.

Jonathan continued wriggling, already looking forward to the liberty, limited though it may be, that the balcony offered him. Alongside, along the halls, Dio's many agents passed by him, towering above him with their bodies and legs. All unanimously responding with horror and disgust. Remarking on how hideous his exposed neck was, or quipping about kicking him.

Yet none dared. He was still Dio's brother, after all.

Undeterred by their remarks, Jonathan slowly but surely inched his way past the sneering agents and, with great effort, turned his head--himself--toward the hall leading past Dio's bedroom, to make a detour. Hopefully he wouldn't bump into any more of the agents.

He inched down the hallway, and made it past Dio's door. Behind him, he could still hear the agents' mockery. Laughing at his pathetic predicament.

Dio admired him to some extent, but at the end of the day, no one in the mansion saw him as a person. A trophy, perhaps, or some kind of 'gross' or 'freaky' house pet.

But what was a head to do?

Jonathan's thoughts, however, were interrupted as Dio's door swung open. In resigned expectation, he expected Dio to step out the door, offering him his golden elf shoes to lick as a 'greeting', yet the feet he saw before him were not ones clad in the glimmering footwear.

They belonged to a tall, muscular man, with long, dark hair and a brown complexion, whom Jonathan didn't seem to recognize among the agents. He was clad in a purple leotard, and a golden chain with sculpted hearts across his forehead, yet most noteworthy was his lack of pants--which Jonathan felt wise to simply not address.

He tried to chin-crawl away past the man's legs, hoping not to be noticed, but it was too late, as the man had accidentally nudged him with his foot. Jonathan rolled to his side and bumped lightly into the wall, and, despite his efforts to hold his tongue, he spilled out a faint "ouch".

The man looked down at the strange bundle on the floor. He first thought it was some kind of toy, but as he bent down to look closer, he realized, to his horror, that it was a head. A severed human head.

And it was alive.

The duet of frightened screams that emanated from the hallway promptly drew Dio out of his room.

"Vanilla! What the hell are you crying about--"

"Sire! There is a severed head--"

"Severed head, you say? I suppose you haven't met him yet."

Jonathan looked up and Vanilla looked down, and their gazes met.

"Vanilla, meet Jonathan's head." Dio announced.

Jonathan silently winced inside, but by this point, he'd become accustomed to being addressed as "Jonathan's head". In a strange way, he'd even come to embrace it.

"Hello there," Jonathan timidly greeted, trying to be polite.

"It can talk," Vanilla gasped.

"He can talk, Vanilla." Dio corrected. "He may be a head, but he is my brother, and you will address him politely, understand?"

"Yes, sire."

Dio turned to Jonathan, kneeling down onto the floor. "And here, dear brother, is Vanilla Ice."

"He will be your new caretaker."

"Caretaker?" Vanilla asked, surprised.

"My brother is quite helpless," Dio told him. "He cannot survive by himself. So now you, as my most trusted agent, are tasked to his care. You will now be assigned to bathe him, clean him, feed him and take him out of his jar in the fridge every morning and put him back each night."

"Right, sire. As you command, sire."

Jonathan felt two strong hands grab him roughly by the sides of his head. He protested and wriggled in his grasp.

"No, please! Mister, uh, Vanilla? Please be careful with me."

"My apologies, Mister Head," Vanilla answered, gingerly cradling Jonathan in his arm instead upon his insistence.

Thus was the beginning of a bizarre acquaintanceship.

-------

"Mister Jojo, Lord Dio has commanded that I remove you from your jar."

"Ah, thank you, Mister Ice," Jonathan replied, with a smile, as the fridge door opened to reveal Vanilla's face.

Days had turned into weeks, and weeks into months. Over time, the constant presence of the strange leotard man had become just another daily routine for him.

Jonathan blamed his decades spent as a severed head. Now nothing was too strange even for him.

And Vanilla had been an unusually reassuring presence.

Vanilla set him down onto the floor, and, as usual, Jonathan began wriggling around to explore. He began to squirm away, when he glanced back and saw Vanilla's eyes fixed onto the open stump of his neck: all its gory details on full display.

"I know, I'm disgusting." Jonathan said, in sad self-depreciation. "You don't have to stare. Just let me squirm away in peace."

Yet the look in Vanilla's eyes were not one of contempt or mockery or revulsion. They were a look of genuine pity.

"You poor thing." Vanilla said, gently picking up Jonathan. "It must be painful."

"It is, when it's touched," Jonathan explained. "I try to avoid dragging it on the floor whenever I crawl."

"As your appointed caretaker, entitled to ensure your well being, I insist to be able to help. Perhaps if you had something to cover it...I believe I have a solution."

Vanilla carried Jonathan in his arms as he went over to the garage. There, gently setting Jonathan down onto a work table, he began to rummage about in his tool kit, pulling out screws, screwdrivers, measuring tapes, old metal jar lids, leather seat covers and pieces of foam.

"W-what are you doing?" Jonathan asked, confused and somewhat panicked.

"You said your exposed neck stump is causing you pain. Therefore, I shall find a way to remedy it and cover up your wound."

"How do you plan on doing so?"

Vanilla pondered for a moment. "Perhaps I can build a sort of base...for you to wear on your neck. To protect it from harm."

"Wear it...?" Jonathan echoed, perplexed.

Vanilla scratched his head. "Mr. Jojo. You used to have legs, did you not? Think of it as some kind of shoe."

"A shoe," Jonathan muttered, amused. He hadn't exactly worn any sort of clothing for decades now. Was he naked? Was a severed head naked?

And that evening, Jonathan watched with curiosity and fascination as Vanilla got to work.

"Would you like to watch, Mr. Jojo?" Vanilla asked him.

"I'd certainly like to, it'd be welcome entertainment for my otherwise dull existence," Jonathan sighed, somewhat venting. "Though if you won't mind, please bring my jar over here. I cannot survive very long outside of it."

Vanilla politely excused himself from the garage, and returned a few moments later with the sloshing container, still cold from the fridge, that he set onto his work table and gently lowered Jonathan into.

Jonathan sighed a bubbly sigh in relief as he was once immersed in the cold, refreshing liquid. It exuded a faint, chemical smell that was off-putting to the unacquainted, but after decades immersed in it, Jonathan had come to not mind, not that he could smell anything while in his jar.

And then Vanilla began to work.

Jonathan watched from his jar, amazed, as Vanilla took an old metal lid, carefully cut it into shape, and padded the inner side with leather and foam. Attaching some screws to the outer metal rim, he then polished and wiped clean the strange new contraption and showed it off to Jonathan.

Jonathan smiled. He would never have expected such artistic and practical creativity from someone who seemed so stern and serious.

There was much more to him than it would seem at first, he thought.

"Here you go, Mister Jojo. Time to try it out."

Gently, he lifted Jonathan out of his jar and wiped him dry with a towel. He rubbed his hair, and face and behind his ears, but Jonathan winced as he patted his neck stump dry.

"Easy there, Vanilla."

Once Jonathan was all clean and dry, Vanilla held him horizontally and gently eased on the device onto his neck.

"Now, this might twinge just a little bit."

Jonathan gritted his teeth as the base pressed up against his neck stump. The foam-padded surface rubbed against the exposed nerves, and it hurt badly, but he bravely stifled a cry.

Vanilla shook his head. "It's too small. I should make a few adjustments."

While Vanilla worked on his project, Jonathan lay on his work table, watching his hard work and determination. He couldn't help but feel quite flattered.

"Thank you," Jonathan said, after a while.

Vanilla looked up, tightening some screws on the base. "Thank you for what?"

"For the company." Jonathan admitted. "It's been quite lonely."

Vanilla grunted in effort as he popped a screw loose. "Is your brother and his lesser minions not company enough?"

Jonathan scoffed. "Company? They see me more like some kind of gruesome trinket." He looked up at Vanilla.

"You're the first person in a long, long while to treat me like...a person."

"Are you not?" Vanilla asked. Jonathan didn't know how to answer.

"Person or not, I am still ordered to ensure your welfare," Vanilla said, almost like swearing an oath. "Now, if you don't mind, let me take a few measurements." Gently, he laid Jonathan onto his back, and pulled out a tape measure, scaling the dimensions of Jonathan's neck and adjusting the base to ensure a snug fit.

"This should do it. Now, try it on."

Jonathan braced himself for the pain as Vanilla inserted his neck stump into the collar-like contraption. Yet, instead of the burning pain he'd endured, there was...nothing.

It felt...soft.

"And now we tighten it a bit." Vanilla reached into his toolbox for a screwdriver and tightened some of the screws on the device, firmly attaching it to Jonathan's neck.

Jonathan felt anxious as the base tightened around his throat. For a moment he feared he would choke: until he remembered he no longer needed to breathe air.

"How do you feel?" Vanilla asked him.

"Strange," Jonathan admitted. "It's tight and rough but also quite soft."

"I lined the inside with foam, to act as padding and cushion your neck stump. I added a screw to tighten and loosen it at will so I can put it on or take it off, and I added a rubber pad at the bottom like a shoe sole for traction." Vanilla explained.

"You're a genius," Jonathan complimented.

"Thank you, Mister Jojo. Now, let me help you stand up."

"Stand up?" Jonathan exclaimed, as Vanilla helped him into an upright position. He winced, expecting the painful twinge once more...yet none came. His weight rested on the soft inside of the neck base, and he was upright again for the first time since his decapitation.

"Feeling better, Mister Jojo?" Vanilla asked.

"Never more so," Jonathan admitted.

"Perhaps this neck base could help you move around a little better as well," Vanilla pondered. "Can you try to hop?"

"Hop?" Jonathan laughed. "What a silly idea! But since you asked nicely, I'll give it a try."

Balanced upright on his neck, Jonathan bent down, building up energy in his neck like a coiled spring, before forcefully extending his neck and forcing his chin upward. To his surprise, he sprang up a few inches into the air, before landing on his neck base. It hurt a lot less than he expected, and he wobbled awkwardly before Vanilla caught him and helped him upright again.

"Careful, Mister Jojo. You might need a lot of practice. Worry not, for I will help you."

Jonathan beamed, for the first time in many years. "I don't know how I can thank you more."

"Don't thank me," Vanilla answered modestly. "I am only doing what Lord Dio has tasked of me."

Jonathan gave another experimental hop.

"And I'd say you did a pretty good job at it too."

------

"WHAT'S THAT NOISE?" Dio complained, barging out of his room. All the agents cowered before him, pointing toward the kitchen with trembling hands.

Dio marched into the kitchen, fuming.

"Who disrupts my beauty sleep?!" he scolded dramatically. "We vampires sleep all day, you know!"

"Oh, hello there, brother!" Jonathan greeted, as he bounced along the kitchen floor.

"YOU! You miserable little head--wait, what the hell are you doing?"

For instead of squirming pitifully along the floor, Jonathan was now progressing in leaps and bounds, loudly thumping against the tile. He was far more mobile now than he'd ever been. And deep inside, Dio fumed. He was going to be harder to control. And it was losing control that infuriated him the most.

"Mister Vanilla made this neck base for me, and now my neck stump doesn't hurt anymore! I have to admire his creativity, and I am grateful for him granting me some independence." He bounced his way over to Vanilla, who gently picked him up and set him on the table.

"He has learned quite well, sire!" Vanilla proudly announced. "We have practiced for several weeks how to bounce about and he is a very fast learner."

"And now he'll be all over the place!" Dio groaned.

"Sire, you entrusted me to his care and well-being," Vanilla rationalized. "His exposed neck and his immobility were negatively affecting said well-being, and I merely performed said task you assigned me."

Dio frowned. He knew he couldn't argue with it, yet he felt that he should.

"Fine." Dio huffed, after a while. "But he's YOUR responsibility now."

"Agreed, Sire."

As Dio stormed off back into his room, Jonathan looked up at Vanilla, and smiled. Reluctantly, a faint smile crept across Vanilla's usually stern face.

"You know," Jonathan said, "even though you're in my brother's wicked, villainous service--"

"Do not speak ill of Lord Dio!" Vanilla snapped.

"Right. Sorry." Jonathan apologized. "Even though we may not agree on...some things, I think I can say I like you, Mr. Vanilla."

Vanilla's face softened. "Is that the case? Good. Because I am your entrusted caretaker, always by your side."

"And the closest I'll have to a friend." Jonathan sighed.

Vanilla gently stroked Jonathan's hair.

"Who knows, Mister Jojo?"

"Perhaps, in this long and bizarre adventure, you may find more friends along the way."

"I sure hope I do."

••••••••••••••••

Since Vanilla makes the neck bases did he make the very first one Jonathan wore ever since becoming a head? That would be kinda cute xD (though it would mean poor Jonny went neckbase-less for years before Vans came along).

Actually that would be such an adorable idea. Vans seeing Jonny have to squirm everywhere when Dio lets him out of his jar and Vans makes a neck base for him and teaches him to bounce 🥺💜

Yes!! That was when he decided to do some measurements of Jonny's neck and stuff. It took a lot of trial and error, but now there are many neck bases! And they're way more comfortable now 🤣

[brrahbrrahcharacterimagines]

Sensei (Jiraiya x reader) SMUT

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Jiraiya x Reader

Word Count: 2580

Warnings: Masturbation (female), cum, oral (male receiving), dirty sex, sensei kink?, praise kink

A/N: I'm not even sorry

Starting your ninja training older than everyone else meant you always felt like you were behind. While all the other students became chunin in their mid-teens, you were 18 before you even took the exam.

That being said, you were older than most of your sensei's previous students.

It didn't used to bother you as much as it did now. Sure, you were sad before that you felt as if you were falling behind the other students. However, now you were worried for another reason. You were worried that Jiraiya saw you as a kid.

He was used to having young students, and he saw them in many ways as his children. You assumed he had the same kind of relationship with you, despite your age. This was fine at first, but the more time you spent with your sensei the more you wanted him to see you differently.

For your part, you had begun seeing him differently already. You took notice of his broad chest, his strong arms. He was trying to teach you a new justu, showing you better form.

Jiraiya was pressed against your back, his arms around your own so he could move your hands to the correct position. His hot breath fanned against your neck, making a chill run up your spine. To him it was no more than teaching a student, but for you it was the moment you began to see him as more than your teacher. Feeling his strong chest pressed up against you ignited a fire inside of you, one that still had not dimmed.

After that day, everything about the way you saw your sensei changed. Previously you hadn't cared much for the way the "Pervy Sage" chased women. You only cared about it in relation to your training, annoyed when you were unable to find your sensei. Now you found yourself jealous when he slunk off to bars or brothels alone, feeling as if he had chosen the option of being with other women over being with you.

You knew these women meant nothing to him, and many didn't even reciprocate his advances. Even so, there was already another woman that actually did mean something to him: Tsunade.

There was no way you could compete with her. She was another of the legendary Sannin, having trained with Jiraiya when they were young. Not only was she admirable for her strength, but she had also spent many years forming a bond with Jiraiya that you felt you could never attain. You knew how he felt about her, and despite the feelings being unrequited it hurt you more deeply than you would ever want to admit to him.

-

Tonight was nothing special. Another night, another village you would spend the night alone in. Jiraiya was already off for the night, no doubt to "gather intel" for his newest Icha Icha book.

You sighed, laying back on your bed in the room you had rented for the night. Your heart ached a little as you looked to the other bed in the room, one that would most likely stay empty tonight as Jiraiya found a bed elsewhere.

Giving up on feeling sorry for yourself, you looked around the room for something to do. You didn't feel like training, having already gone at it all day. You'd already eaten too, crossing that option off your mental list as well. It was times like this that you wish you had a hobby to bring on the road with you.

Glancing back over at Jiraiya's empty bed, something caught your eye. It was his newest publication, another of the Icha Icha series. You had to admit, something about the series had always intrigued you. Before you had always been too shy to pick up a copy, worried about what others might think of you. It's not like you had to worry about Jiraiya coming back tonight when he would be so busy.

You snatched the copy off his bed, flipping it open. The first few pages weren't bad, simply two characters going about their day together. However, it was only a couple more pages in when the characters made it back home and shut the door behind them.

It was filthy.

You had known the kind of content in these books, and had known the type of man that Jiraiya was. He wasn't one to tiptoe around a dirty word, but you had no idea just how dirty he could be in his writing. You read on.

He reached his hands up her blouse, taking a delicate, hardening nipple in each hand. A cry of his name escaped her hips as he began to gently rub circles around them, smirking at her reaction.

As you read the words on the page, you could feel yourself becoming more and more aroused as each word went by. You could almost feel Jiraiya's hands on your body, copying the movements of the characters.

You felt a flash of heat through your body, down towards your womanhood. Without feeling them you already knew your panties would be soaked. Knowing it was Jiraiya who had wrote this was making your mind run wild, imagining he were doing all of these things to you.

You continued reading, moving the book to your non-dominate hand so the other could crawl up your shirt. You grabbed your boob in your own hand, reading on. You flicked a finger across one of your nipples, relishing in the feeling of how hard it already was. You stifled a gasp at the touch, feeling dirty. The situation was giving you a rush, and it was turning you on more than you had been in a long time.

You couldn't stop reading, as if you were possessed. All you could do was read page after page, the actions escalating.

She undid his pants, puling them down to let his hard cock spring free. All she wanted was to take it into her mouth, and she did. Swirling her tongue around the sensitive tip she tasted his precum, only urging her to continue.

You pictured the scene in your head, imagining what it would be like to take Jiraiya into your mouth that way. Imagining it only made you more turned on, thinking about looking up at him through your lashes as he bucked his hips towards you, fucking your mouth.

He lined himself up at her entrance, holding back from slamming into her wetness. He slid his cock along her folds, teasing her until she begged for it to be inside of her.

You moved your own hand down into your panties, soaked just as you had expected. Your body lit up as you reached for your clit, rubbing small circles around the sensitive bud. A soft moan came from your throat, only making you wish Jiraiya were the one to ease it out of you.

You moved your fingers further downward, rubbing along the outside of your pussy. Lost in the moment, you didn't even hear the door creak open.

-

It had been a long night for Jiraiya, and a lonely one at that. Any girl he tried to flirt with denied his advances, and he hadn't even gotten any intel on the mission out of it. He decided to call it a night, walking back to the room he had rented for the two of you.

He expected you to already be asleep, as you usually were on the nights he returned. However, as he reached the door he heard more than snoring coming from the room. At first, he thought he had remembered the room number incorrectly.

For a moment, Jiraiya stood outside. Was there a man in there with you? He decided to peek inside, wanting to see if he needed to go and get his own room for the night.

Opening the door, his eyes went straight to you. He felt his eyes widen so large he was afraid they would pop out of his head. You were laying on your bed in only your panties, and from the sounds in the room he could tell they were already soaked through. Your breasts were on full display, making him wonder why he didn't look at them more often. In fact, he began to wonder why he didn't look at you as a whole more often. He was no stranger to finding younger, though of-age, women attractive, but something about being your mentor had made him block you off in his mind.

Now, as his eyes darted from your breasts to your pussy in an attempt to take it all in, he was mad at himself for not letting himself be attracted to you sooner.

Then he noticed your other hand. In it was a copy of his latest novel, and based on how many pages were left you had just gotten to the good part.

His dick had already begun to press on his pants from the sight of you, but now he knew what had made you feel this way.

It was him.

"Glad to see you enjoy my writing," he said cockily.

-

"Glad to see you enjoy my writing," you heard . Your hand froze in place as your eyes flashed to the doorway. To your horror you saw Jiraiya standing there. How much had he seen?

You shrieked, grabbing the blanket at your feet so you could pull it over your exposed body.

"Easy, it's not like I haven't already seen it now." He teased.

"What are you doing back tonight?" You barked, trying to hide your embarrassment with anger.

"I just wish I'd waited a little longer to come back, maybe you would have already had your panties off."

You knew these were the words of a pervy old man, but you couldn't help the way you felt as you heard them come from Jiraiya. Finally having the courage to look at him, you noticed how dark his eyes had gotten. Looking down, it was hard not to notice the tent forming in his pants.

You had thought you were already as turned on as you could have been, but seeing the way he looked at you was on another level entirely. You had always wanted him to look at you this way, wanted him to desire you.

You let the blanket fall, exposing yourself to him again. You tried not to show your excitement at the way you could see his smile grow as his eyes darted back to your chest.

"How about you take them off for me, sensei?"

You thought you had given the older man a heart attack. He froze, something you figured uncommon for a man so experienced as Jiraiya. He only faltered for a moment, quickly regaining his thoughts and making quick strides over towards you.

He did as you asked, tearing your panties from your body and rubbing his calloused fingers against your pussy. You moaned at the contact, rolling your hips towards Jiraiya.

"You like that?" He asked, "do you like it when your sensei touches you like this?"

You could barely respond, merely nodding as he elicited another moan from you. He leaned towards you, capturing your lips in his own. In the same moment you reached towards him, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders.

"Fuck Jiraiya," you moaned as he began kissing down your neck towards your breasts. Jiraiya smirked at your reaction, knowing what he was doing to you. He pulled away just long enough to undress his torso, coming back to lick a circle around your nipple. One of your hands roamed his chest, running your fingers over the scar you found so sexy. The other buried itself deep in his thick, white hair, trying to pull him closer to you.

He took a nipple into his mouth, sucking on your tit as he lazily rolled his tongue around the bud. You continued to moan, urging him on.

For his part in the matter, Jiraiya hadn't felt this young in a long time. Sure, he'd had a run-in or two at a brothel, but nothing like this. Something about this felt more real to him. He knew all of the noises you made for him were genuine, and all he wanted to do was make them get louder.

You felt yourself reaching closer to orgasm as Jiraiya pulled away, taking off his pants. You raised your eyebrows as he exposed himself, met with more than you had expected. For a moment you were worried it wouldn't fit.

"Get on your knees for your sensei."

You did as you were told, getting on your knees so that you could take him eagerly into your mouth. You thought back to the earlier pages in the book, swirling your tongue around the head of his cock.

"Fuck Y/n," he groaned, trying to push more of himself into your mouth. "Your mouth feels so fucking good baby."

You moaned around his cock at the words of praise, sending delicious vibrations through his body.

Looking up at Jiraiya, everything was even better than you had imagines. His hand was in your hair, pulling you further onto his dick.

"That's right baby, get this dick nice and wet so I can fuck you."

You did just that, excited when he pulled out of you mouth. He pulled you up off the floor as if you weighed nothing, pushing you back on the bed.

"Do you want this baby?" Asked Jiraiya, lining himself up.

"Yes sensei," you moaned, teasing him and trying to push your hips closer to his. "Please fuck me Jiraiya."

At your words he pushed himself into you, going slowly enough to let you adjust to his size. When you were ready you started rocking your hips against his, begging him to move.

He began thrusting in and out of you, his thighs slapping against yours in a way that made your pussy throb.

"Jiraiya," you moaned, already feeling close to orgasm after being so close earlier in the night. You could tell he was feeling the same, the tightness of your wet pussy driving him crazy.

Jiraiya looked down at you, watching your tits bounce as he fucked you in a way he had never imagined. Your eyes rolled back and your mouth parted as he thrust into you, only adding to his ego as well as his own pleasure.

"You're gonna make me cum looking like that," he grunted. All you could do was moan in response, holding eye contact with him long enough to feel his thrust falter a little.

The tension was building up in the pit of your stomach until Jiraiya shifted, hitting your g-spot as he thrust. You couldn't hold on any longer, walls contracting around his cock as you screamed his name. He didn't last long after that, your pussy clenching around him pushing him over the edge. He pulled out, spilling over your stomach as he finished jerking himself off.

As he finished, he leaned down to press a kiss to your tired lips. Something about the action felt almost domestic, and you couldn't deny the butterflies in your stomach.

"I'm glad I brought this with me," joked Jiraiya, motioning to the book that lie forgotten on the floor.

"Me too," you teased. He smiled back at you with sleepy, satisfied eyes. This would be far from the last time, you were sure. And you couldn't wait for the next one.

-

-

MASTERLIST

[heythere-mel]

Falling For You

Single dad!Frankie Morales x Single mom f!reader

Summary: You and your daughter just moved into a new town right around the Halloween season. Wanting to get into the holiday mood, a stop into the local costume shop brings you a treat you weren’t quite expecting.

W/C: 3.8K+

Warnings: Fluuuuuf! Dorky nervous dad!Frankie energy galore, mild language, meddling children and adults. Let me know if I missed anything.

A/N: I had intended on putting this out on Halloween but you know, life and work got in the way of that, so here we are. This originally started out as an idea based off the pic of the little girl dressing as a hot dog for dance class and grew into all this. Frankie’s daughter is meant to be around 9-10 here. Still falls within the fall theme so I send it off to you lovely readers. Comments, reblogs, yearning thoughts, anything welcomed. Enjoy! 🤍

Tagging the couple who dig the Frankie fluff 🥰 @icanbeyourjedi @moongazingbeing

——-

“So, any ideas on what you wanna be for Halloween this year kiddo? Whoa, Daniella! Hey! Little bites!” Frankie laughs at his daughter practically demolishing one of the hot dogs he just grilled up.

“Sorry dad.” she mumbles with a mouth full of food. “I don’t know. All the girls I talked to in class are going as princesses, that’s so basic though!” dramatically rolling her eyes.

“Basic? I’m assuming that’s bad?”

“It’s just boring. I wanna be something, different!” throwing her hands comically in the air.

Frankie chuckles at the pure spunk of this child. His child. A mischievous twinkle lining those big brown eyes, destined and yearning to stand out in the best possible way.

“Okay how about this,” pointing a potato chip in her direction, “after school tomorrow we’ll head to the Halloween store and see what we can find you. Deal?”

“Deal!” snatching the chip from his hand, and quickly throwing it in her mouth. The two bursting into a fit of laughter at her impressive reflexes.

——-

About a neighborhood over, you were having the same conversation with your own daughter.

“Hey small fry, have you thought of what you wanted to dress up as for Halloween?”

The two of you had just moved out here from the city. A smaller town, it was a nice quiet place for a fresh start. Only problem was, your daughter, Daniella, was having a bit of a hard time adjusting.

“I don’t know mom. I guess a princess or something.” She says sighing.

Your daughter was so bright. A vast, expansive imagination of her own, eyes always so big and expressive when she found something she truly loved. You missed seeing that and wanted to help her replenish it.

“How about we go to that Halloween store we passed up the other day? Could be fun, looking at all the different costumes and decorations? Possibly spark an idea. What do you say?”

That little smile you loved so much started creeping its way onto her face.

“That could be fun. Okay then.”

——-

“Frankie! Dani! How y’all doing?”

“How’s it going Sam?” Frankie leans in giving the older man a firm, but friendly handshake. “How’s business this year?”

Sam was the owner of the local shop that popped up every holiday. A staple in the tiny community this time of year. Plus, he loved getting into the spirit of it all so there was no better person to run the place.

“Business is boomin’ kid! First round of costumes practically sold out the first day! What ya looking for this time around bud? Princess? Witch, perhaps?”

“She says she wants different this year.”

“Well, you know where to look!” throwing his thumb back into the direction of the kids section. “Go for it! Let me know if you need help with anything!”

Frankie thanks Sam again and trots after his wild child, practically buzzing with energy at the assortment of options available.

——-

You walk into the quirky little shop and turn to see your daughters eyes practically bulging from her head. A small “whoa” leaving her lips as she fell into a trance at the setup around her. The lively animatronics going off with a wicked cackle, spider webs and other festive decorations adorning the walls, costumes in every way you looked. This was definitely a great idea. You’re pulled from your thoughts by the slight twang-riddled hello from a voice behind you.

“Howdy folks! Don’t think I’ve ever see y’all around here before. I’m Sam, the owner of the joint. Anything in particular you’re looking for?”

“Oh, hi!” giving him a handshake, along with your name as well. “We just moved into town recently and decided to come check things out, maybe find a costume for my daughter. It’s really an incredible place you have here!”

“Oh you flatter me hun, keep going!” sharing a laugh with the elderly man. “Well, kids stuff is to the left over here. Adult costumes are to the back wall. I don’t know if you’re looking for anything for you and your husband, wife, significant other, we don’t judge around here-”

You give a shy giggle at his laid-back demeanor, “oh, no husband, no nothing, just me and my girl here.”

Sam liked you already. Sweet and easy-going. He also happens to see you’ve caught the attention of another certain local as well…

——-

Frankie couldn’t help turning in your direction. When the bell chimed signaling a new customer, he happened to look up from the fake blood set he was intrigued by and was met with what he thought was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Your soft smile had him blushing as you talked it up with Sam, briefly making him green with envy at how easily he always fell into conversation with people. He saw the little girl at your side, looked about the same age as his Dani. Automatically feeling this may be over before it even began, he inches a little closer trying to listen in on the conversation. This doesn’t go unnoticed by Sam. He thought and cared deeply for Frankie and his daughter but feels it was time for him to get out there and find someone again. Knowing Frankie can be ever so timid and let’s face it, a bit of a dorky dad, decided he’d speed up the process by asking you the hard hitting questions. Unbeknownst to him and you, of course. Frankie overhears a brief mention of, new to town, costume shopping, and with a sigh of relief, no husband. With the newly acquired info and a not so subtle stare down from Sam when he locks eyes with him, he quickly places the blood set down before strolling along to see where Dani ran off to.

——-

“Alright Dani, I’ll be right over here looking at the decorations. Are you okay in this section by yourself?”

“Yeah I should be good. I’ll let you know if I find anything.”

With that you walk off to browse the home decor. The aisle has everything you could want to add a little flare to the house. A giant glow in the dark skeleton catches your eye but lucky you, you’re too short to reach it on the top shelf. You’re about to head to the front to ask for Sam’s assistance when you happen upon a man down the same aisle looking at all the crazy masks quizzically. He seemed a bit rugged yet, cozy. There was no other word to describe it. Definitely tall enough to reach up for you. A sharp profile, and what seemed like curls for days under his trucker hat. Paired with a soft grey T-shirt and jeans that fit him just right, he was the most handsome man you’d ever seen. You hadn’t realized you were staring until he slowly turns his head in your direction as you stood there with your mouth hanging open.

Time stood still as you both take in each other’s expressions. Frankie stood there wide eyed. It was you. Both reacting as if you’d been caught doing something naughty. Shaking your head, you spoke first.

“Wow, I ummm, I’m so sorry to bother you but could you, maybe reach that skeleton up there for me?”

Frankie’s expression softened, as the tips of his ears turned red from being so flustered.

“Yeah, of course!” shuffling toward you. Taking a step back, you stop to take in the muscular expanse of his shoulders, the way he reaches the prop with ease.

“Thank you so much...”

“Oh, uhh, Francisco, but everyone calls me Frankie. It was no problem...”

You give him your name in exchange, loving the way it sounds falling from his lips. The deep, lower tone he uses bringing a warmth that instantly surrounds you. So much so that you don’t realize you’re still touching his fingertips that grazed your own upon handing over of the decoration.

“Hey, ummm, I hope I’m not being too forward but if you need assistance putting that up, I have a ladder, I don’t mind. Not that I don’t think you’re not capable or anything, but, you know what I mean.” trailing off as his eyes look everywhere but back at you.

“Wow, really? That actually sounds great. We just moved in and I haven’t had the chance to see what I’ll need for the house yet but ladder I know is definitely on the list.” There’s that sweet smile he witnessed from earlier. His own making its way onto his face, showcasing that prominent dimple on his right cheek.

The tranquil moment is soon interrupted by a loud shriek. You both gasp yelling “Dani!” giving each other a curious look that could be addressed at a later time.

Sprinting to the area, almost running over an elderly lady and her grandkids in the process, you’re met with your daughter running at you. A girl about her age on her heels running to whom you can only assume is Frankie.

“Dad! IT’S. A. HOT DOG!” the girl yells, punctuating every word with enthusiasm.

“Mom look! A hamburger!” holding up the oversized ensemble.

You look at your daughter, then to Frankie’s, back to him and all you can do is start laughing. You almost tackled an old lady and kids, all because your daughter wants to be a hamburger.

With Frankie’s adrenaline slowly wearing off, he can finally see the humor in it all, and chuckles along with you.

“Mija, you wanna be a hot dog? That’s fine with me. Just, please don’t scream like that again. You scared the shit outta me and this nice lady here.”

Dani looks you over, then back to your Dani, “is she your mom?”

“Yeah!”

“She’s pretty.”

Frankie looks to you, heat creeping up on his cheeks, and gives you a crooked smile. Slightly embarrassed at his daughters blunt statement.

You liked her.

“Dad! This is Dani too! Her and her mom just moved here and they don’t really have plans for Halloween so can they come with us?!”

“Yeah mom, there’s a fall festival happening! Can we go?”

A silent beat comes between the four of you before Frankie speaks up.

“You’re more than welcome to join us, if you’re okay with it. It actually is pretty fun. Typical carnival rides but they also do candy stations for the kids, costume contest, haunted hayride.” Please say yes…

“That sounds great!”

The girls cheer in unison, running off to continue browsing one of the festive aisles when you turn sheepishly to Frankie.

Was this really happening? Spending the holiday with the handsome man you just ogled at for reaching something high for you? This was turning out like some meet-cute you’d only see in the movies. Deciding to take a bold play from his Dani’s book, you ask to see his phone.

“Here’s my number. So we can coordinate on where and when to meet up. You also promised to help hang this here little guy.” Holding up the forgotten skeleton.

Handing the phone back, he looks over your name, a skeleton emoji next to it, and smiles.

“I did didn’t I?”

Sam is at the front watching the entire exchange. Grinning from ear to ear at how perfectly this all fell into place. Not necessarily how he had seen it going, but it would do.

——-

Your group heads to checkout where Sam takes the costumes from the girls.

“Hot dog and hamburger?! Excellent choices ladies. The perfect pair! What about you two?” Motioning between yourself and Frankie.

“Oh, I hadn’t really thought about.”

“Me either.”

“You know what goes perfect with a hot dog and hamburger?” a menacing look falls across his face. “Ketchup and mustard.”

“Sam, no.”

“C’mon Frankie, I think it could be fun.” Snickering at the awkward exchange. The girls also loving his idea.

——-

So this is how you end up on the day of Halloween in a bright red dress, the word ketchup written across the front. Paired with red tights, and your red Converse, along with a homemade hat you saw on Pinterest. You thought it looked pretty decent for being so last minute and couldn’t wait to see how Frankie did.

He had called you later that same week, making good on his promise to come help hang some decorations while also allowing the girls to get to know each other a bit more. This also gave the two of you better time to get acquainted. He told you about his time in the service, now retired and running a small helicopter tour site. He mentioned his divorce from Dani’s mom before she was even old enough to talk yet, practically raising the rambunctious little girl on his own. You gave him your story as well. Unfortunately finding your ex in bed with an old flame a few years back. Having tried the “let’s work it out” route which led him back to old habits. Knowing you couldn’t and wouldn’t allow your daughter to see the back and forth of it all. Which led you here, ready for a new beginning. Conversation came so easily with him and the afternoon had all gone so well, until he addressed his slight panic of not knowing how to put a mustard costume together. It was so cute how intense he sounded. You told him not to think so hard about it. A yellow shirt and maybe some tan jeans would do the trick. You even offered to make his little mustard pop top hat as well, loving how easily you played along with this whole idea.

“How do I look mom?!” your daughter sneaks up behind you and you can’t believe how perfect she looks. A round little hamburger with sneakers, absolutely beaming.

“Small fry you look INCREDIBLE! The sneakers are a nice touch! Oh! What do you think?” Giving her a little twirl to show off your outfit.

“You look awesome mom! I think Mr. Frankie will think so too.”

You can’t help but smile at the comment. With that you grab the extra “hat” and text Frankie saying you’ll meet him at the fairgrounds in 20 minutes.

He responds almost automatically.

Frankie 💀: Just about to head out. Can’t wait to see you.

You grin at your phone, because honestly you couldn’t wait to see him either.

——-

Frankie hit send without even thinking about it. Oh shit. I said can’t wait to see you? I mean it’s the truth but what if that was too strong?

“Dad? You okay? You seem, sweaty.” mirroring the same furrow in her brow as her father.

“Ha ha. Yeah, just looking myself over. This doesn’t look too bad does it?” His bright yellow shirt with mustard written surprisingly well across his broad frame fit perfectly along with his nicer tan pants and a pair of yellow Converse he found while out browsing for the shirt. He felt naked without his signature hat but trusted you did a great job with the accessory he’d be wearing in place of it a majority of the night.

“If you’re worried about what her mom will think I’m sure she’ll be fine with it. I honestly think she likes you. But what about me?! Check this out!” pointing to the costume and her own pair of sneakers completing the look.

Dani’s statement doesn’t fall on deaf ears. Frankie nearly freezing at the prospect of you actually liking him back. Oh how he hopes you like him back.

“You are the coolest kid ever you know that?! You guys are gonna kill it out there!” High fiving his little girl. “Let’s get going dork!”

——-

Twenty minutes on the dot you see Frankie’s pickup pulling up in the parking lot. Dani enthusiastically pointing over the dashboard at her spotting your car as you catch sight of the bright yellow Frankie chose for his shirt. You were so nervous all of a sudden. This wasn’t technically a date, was it? Dani senses this, taking hold of your hand.

“We’re gonna kill it mom!”

“You’re damn right we are. You ready?”

——-

“Okay dad, Dani 2 is pretty much my new best friend so please don’t mess this up for me.”

“What’re you talking about?!” Also, Dani 2?

“With her mom! If you drive her mom away, it means I can’t see her and then I’ll be sad. And you don’t want me to be sad now, do you?” giving him those big puppy dog eyes that she clearly inherited from him.

“I would do no such thing. Promise.” holding his hand up, the other across his heart.

“I’m rooting for you, kid.”

“Get outta my truck.”

——-

You arrive at the front gates. Tickets purchased for the bigger rides in hand as the girls stand by your sides gushing over how great the other looks.

“Okay dad, we’re gonna go off and see what kinda candy they got this year. We’ll see you in a bit.”

“Yeah mom! We’ll be right over there!” pointing into the direction of the people giving away assorted candy and treat bags.

“Oh, okay, have fun. Please don’t wander off too far.”

“Oh, don’t worry pretty lady, we’ll be good!”

Without another word, the two girls scurry off into the group of kids at the candy booths, leaving you two to catch up.

“Oh, here’s your hat. If you even wanna call it that.”

“This is awesome! You made this?!” Propping the fixture perfectly on his head. “Thanks for going outta your way to do this. I never really tend to dress up for these things but, this is a nice exception.”

You feel heated at his words. You’re still just getting to know the guy but couldn’t stop the butterflies that erupted in your stomach every time he was near.

“You look great by the way!” Taking in the somewhat form fitting red dress. He didn’t know what else to say. No words could describe the beauty you were radiating. And you were here with him.

“Oh, it’s literally one of my older dresses that hadn’t been worn in a while. Seemed like the right occasion to bring her out. And you! This color is definitely you!” Even noticing his extra jacket in hand was a nice darker shade of the color as well. “And the lettering on the ‘mustard’ here. And you were worried you wouldn’t pull it off.” Oh my god am I making this too obvious? Stop rambling. “Nice shoes too, by the way.” Pointing down at how you matched so well. If you didn’t know better it would seem like you were a real couple.

“Thank you.” he laughs nervously. “Anything for them, right? So, what would you like to see first?”

“How about we get one of those funnel cakes over there. And then we could just roam around a bit? There’s so much to see! What’s your favorite thing about being out here?”

Frankie ponders for a moment. “I do have a favorite, but sunset is the best time for it. Which is in about, 45 minutes.” looking down to his watch.

Feeling the boldness creep up again, you extend your hand out to him.

“Well then, shall we?”

He took it with no hesitation.

——-

The two of you walked around aimlessly through the fair. Sharing the most delicious funnel cake you’d ever had. (The locally grown strawberries Frankie suggested to top it with were to die for.) falling into easy conversation about any and everything. You watched him win you a cute little purple octopus, his face lighting up as you cheered him on throwing the rubber balls at the plastic bottles like a pro. He held you close when fellow parents dressed as zombies or other “terrifying” creatures tried pulling a startled yelp from you. You were so caught up that the two of you almost forgot you came here with the kids until you heard Dani calling for Frankie, signaling their return as they made their way back, candy haul in hand.

“Dad! It’s almost sunset, can we get in line?!”

“We were just about to head that way.”

——-

Leading you and Dani through the crowd, you end up at one of the biggest ferris wheels you’d ever seen. The giant metal lining of the ride flashing the brightest neon colors and patterns. Excitement instantly rushing you as you enter the line.

“I haven’t been on one of these in years!”

“Hey guys, good to see y’all out! The costumes turned out nice!” looking up to see Sam running the ride. Shittiest grin on his face as you get to the front.

“Hey Sam! Great to see you again!”

“Hi Sam…” is there anything this man doesn’t help with around this time of year?!

“Hi! You guys picked the best time for this ride in my opinion.”

That struck a chord in you. Then thinking back to Frankie’s words when you first came in, that the best time for his favorite ride was sunset. Did he want to share this with you? The way he was shying away possibly confirmed your suspicions.

“Okay girls! Right this way! Dani, it may be a tight squeeze with this hamburger costume, but we can make it work.”

“I promise it’s safe ma’am!” noticing the slight worried look you gave the older man.

After safely securing the kids, it was your turn to get buckled in.

“Alright you two, right this way. Get close, wouldn’t want either of you to fall out now would we?” throwing a not so subtle wink your way.

With everyone securely in place, the ride begins to ascend. Going around a few turns, the autumn breeze finally hits you, sending a chill through your bones. Ever the gentleman, Frankie drapes his jacket over your shoulders, a small ‘thank you’ whispered . Frankie is strangely quiet during this time as your cart comes to a sudden stop at the very top of the wheel. Eyes roaming over the entire fair. It was all so breathtaking.

“You were right, best time for this.”

Frankie turned to catch the last remaining rays strewn brightly across your features. You were stunning. He wanted to say so much in this moment. About the butterflies you give him. He wanted to tell you how you haven’t left his mind since you met. That tonight has been one of the greatest he’s had in a while. That he’s glad it’s you up here with him, when your eyes finally meet. Full of longing, just as his.

“Dad! You better kiss her!”

“Yeah Mr. Frankie!”

“I think you better listen to them.”

He pulls you in closer to his side, gently cupping your face, silently asking if it was okay. Nodding, he brings your lips to his, tasting slightly of the sweet berries from earlier. The warmth of the action taking root and blooming throughout your body. The cheering of your children and possibly even Sam from below draw you apart, smiling as he gives you a last lingering embrace.

“Maybe I can take you out for a proper date soon? Without the audience? And in some actual grown up clothes?” eliciting a giggle from the two of you.

You both look down, your kids giving you stink faces but accompanied with sly thumbs up.

“I’d really like that.”

[darkfinch]

1) so I'm assuming "rabbit" is a chosen name from the "congratulations, you're a hitter now, you need a professional name" graduation thing? it's a good name, hitters SHOULD be quiet and unremarkable, but did no-one. just. it's rabbit. did no-one look at his choice and go "ah. maybe you're not… best suited for this after all."

(admittedly I feel like show-off hitter names could well be overdone and also make you a target. but still. that's a Choice on your front to make this scarred antisocial looming-in-ominous-silence walking-shovel-talk character answer to something like "rabbit" and gosh blimey does it do SOMETHING with his backstory. seven-year-old found under the bed, unspeaking, scared as a rabbit—)

2) does quinn actually have a "my beloved uncle might attempt to kill my best friend and I should be there to get in the way and make sad faces" plan at any point or does he have too much faith in him. does eliot have a plan. does babusia (if she would even intervene)

Question 1: So baba gets this new kid (who doesn’t talk and doesn’t have a name and won’t, until either he talks again or they can find his records etc) and is like. Well i’m not just going to rename him, that’s fucked. But I’m not just going to call him boy. So he’s darling and sunshine and sweetheart and little dear and anything else she can come up with, and she’s already cycling through designated pet names for the grandkids, so there’s a goose and a monkey and a honeybee and a tadpole and captain and a stringbean and—

(The one that sticks for Quinn, if you’re curious, is sun/sunny/sunshine, because he’s a furious little bastard and it’s FUNNY for her, and also he’s her golden child. Watching your demonic little shitheel terrorise the household like don’t kill your cousin, sonechko, no dessert if you do—)

And this new one, who’s the hide-and-seek champion, who goes missing and ends up being found curled up in a closet, sometimes, wide-eyed and shaking a little; who she’d sigh at and coax out from under the bed, oh, little rabbit, mon pauvre lapin, мій зайчик—ends up being rabbit-themed. bunny, little rabbit, peter rabbit, honey bunny, don’t-be-scared-don’t-be-scared-you’re-okay. It’s an oh-god-he’s-small thing. It’s a freezing thing and a silent watching thing and a fear thing. Eventually they do figure out his name, but they never use it, because at that point he’s just…the little rabbit guy, already? Thanks, grandma,

anyway, the hitter graduation party thing is like, okay, you’re a hitter now. you’re not a scared kid anymore, you’re not whoever you were, you’re this shiny new thing with a reputation to build: what’s your name?

and Rabbit—who has long since stopped being Timid but continues to be internally fucking terrified, who has learned that being quiet is an Asset, who is maybe the only one of them who hasn’t developed a vicious competitive streak—sips his tea with his party hat on and goes. Actually i absolutely am still that kid, and i’m scared, and that’s why i’m going to live. “Still rabbit. Still going with Rabbit, thanks”

he's like. very much the only one who's ever done this, but it’s not his Legal Name, there’s no…real reason why he Can’t. He gets a lot of slow nods and some scattered applause, but like, even THEN rabbit’s the weird one, so they kind of move on without too many questions

(babusia, however, stares at him for the rest of the night and thinks, oh god. Ohhhhhhhh no. okay. She’s had Talks with him about Having Other Options a few times, Is This What You Really Want talks, and rabbit’s looked her in the eye and lied to her, and rabbit’s choosing this anyway, so she accepts it and respects it and just kind of braces herself.) 

---------

Question 2: quinn doesn't leave eliot and rabbit alone in a room together for two and a half years, and has a lot of “if eliot died i don’t know what i’d do :( imagine if eliot got hurt…that’d wreck me i’d be a mess :(“ chats with him. sad face look at his sad little quinn face rabbit :( :( :(

Babusia will not intervene, but she Has made her acceptance of eliot very very clear, so unless rabbit’s hurting/killing eliot in Revenge for something he’s done to quinn, he’d be getting shit from the entire family. Social pressure will shame this man into nonviolence we know it we trust it (quinn does not trust it quinn is living in anxiety PLEASE don't fight his little punchy friend. he's a pocket-sized cowboy, rabbit, look at him. he made dessert

[strawberrymilkgeorge]

Part One. George: the definition of “hello, have you met my friend?”

warnings: none word count: 1568 (not including pictures) *** Bugsy is Y/n’s username! I got too attached to change it to y/u/n so change it in your mind if you’d like :) 

behind the screen (irl dream x reader) series masterlist

ultimate masterlist

-

Y/n sighed lightly as she set her phone on the desk in front of her. Her eyes traveled back to her monitor, where George was sharing his screen on Discord as he practiced speedruns. Y/n and Sapnap were on call with him to keep him company.

The cold air around her nipped at her skin, sending chills and bringing goosebumps. She pulled her hoodie closer to her body, tucking her feet on her chair to curl herself in a ball.

"This run sucks," George mumbled. "I thought it was going to be good."

"It would have if the village actually had anything useful," Sapnap commented. "There was a lava pool at spawn and everything."

"What do you think, Bugsy? Should I start over?"

She hummed, squinting at the screen. "Yeah, you should."

He left and started a new run.

"Karl's replies on Twitter are always so funny," Sapnap giggled after a few moments of silence. "He's so formal."

"I love that kid. That's my best friend right there, no cap," Y/n said with a smile. She and Karl had been friends for a few years now. They met through their parents being friends and shortly found out the other streamed and quickly bonded over that as their fanbases grew.

"Did you see Wilbur's response to your tweet?" Sapnap asked. "Man wrote you a letter."

"What did the tweets say?" George asked, half-listening as he focused on his run.

Sapnap read them and George laughed through his nose. "How could you ask for a Minecraft boyfriend while you're literally on a call with us while I'm playing Minecraft?"

"Just keeping my options open," Y/n laughed. "Don't worry, I'm wearing a GeorgeNotFound hoodie as we speak."

"I'd be worried, George. There are quite a few proposals in the responses."

"Shut up," Y/n muttered, a smile on her face that she was glad neither of them could see. "George, you remember my roommate is in love with you, right? Don't upset her by being jealous of boys coming after me."

"You're an idiot," George breathed out in a laugh. "No, she's not."

"She is. Very much."

"No, no, she isn't."

"George," Sapnap sighed dramatically. "Just accept that you can be loved."

"You're both idiots, okay?" George laughed awkwardly. "This seed is terrible," he groaned.

"Wait!" Sapnap yelled. "Village on the left!"

George quickly turned and ran towards the village to loot it. Y/n watched with Sapnap as George found iron and a few other valuable things.

"Oh! This might be okay."

"Bugsy?" Sapnap asked slowly, sounding confused.

"Sapnap?" she replied in the same tone.

"Have you not met Quackity?"

"No. What made you ask?"

"I just saw his response to your tweet."

"Why are you two on your phones? I'm speedrunning!"

"Because you still haven't made it to the nether on any of them," Sapnap bit. "How are you best friends with Karl and you haven't you met Quackity?"

"I dunno. I just haven't. There's a lot of people I have only spoken to through Twitter replies."

"Like who?" George asked.

"Why are we only talking about me?" Y/n asked in slight frustration. She wasn't fond of talking about herself because she wasn't used to it. "This is George's stream."

"Well, now I'm really curious so I wanna talk about this," George laughed. "Who haven't you met?"

"I dunno!" she said, flustered. "Quackity, Wilbur, Dream, Tubbo, Tomm-- wait, no I met Tommy. He yelled at me."

"Wait, wait, what?" Sapnap interrupted.

Y/n paused but neither of them said anything. "What?"

"You haven't met Dream?" George asked, sounding equally as confused.

No one said anything. "No? Why is that surprising. I mean, we've joked through tweets and stuff but I've never played with him or actually spoken to him."

"What about DMs and stuff?" George asked.

"Nope. Dream is just thirsty in my replies like Wilbur," she joked, feeling the anxiety of the awkward pauses seep through her skin and touch her bones. Why were they being so weird about it? "Why is that so shocking that a man with, like, 15 million subscribers has never spoken to me?"

Sapnap laughed. "I'm just genuinely surprised that he hasn't reached out to you before."

"Yeah, me too," George agreed. "He talks about you in a way I thought you guys were good friends. And you're friends with us so I just assumed you were friends with him too."

Y/n laughed, nervous at the mention of being talked about. "Well, he must be a pussy or something because I have yet to receive any acknowledgement from Dream Was Taken besides him occasionally replying to my tweets and Instagram pictures."

George laughed suddenly, making Y/n look at the monitor with George's screen quickly, which wasn't moving. "What happened? Did you find something?"

"No," George's screen began moving again and he started building a portal. "Dream just texted me because he's watching the stream."

"What did he say?" Sapnap asked.

"He said, 'can I join the call? I don't want Bugsy to think I'm a pussy'," George answered, lowering his voice to a mumble before adding, "And something else he'd probably kill me if I said out loud."

Sapnap and George laughed at Y/n's silence. She was only joking, not intending to challenge him to talk to her. Honestly, she was relieved he had never spoken to her because he intimidated her. Meeting people made her nervous and Dream was no different. If anything, he was worse because he was a big deal and he kinda flirted with her sometimes, which gave her butterflies in a way she didn't like.

"I'm adding him to call," George announced.

"Wait, you're not going to check if I'm okay with meeting him live in front of 80,000 people?" Y/n asked with a small, nervous laugh.

"No, because it's my stream. I can do what I want. I can't live another second knowing you two have never talked."

"I think Bugsy's scared!" Sapnap coeed.

"I think so too!"

"You wish," Y/n muttered.

A small sound emitted from Discord, notifying everyone that someone joined the voice chat.

"Hello Dreeaamm..." George dragged out as he navigated the nether. "I made it to the nether, Sapnap. Will you get off your phone now?"

"Yeah, I guess. Hi Dream!"

"Hello," Dream said casually. "Hello, Bugsy."

Y/n lowered in her chair more, pulling her hood up and closing it tight over her eyes. No one could see her but his voice made her feel seen.

Sapnap giggled and George laughed. Dream breathed out a laugh. Y/n responded with a small, "Hi."

"Bugsy, you're such a liar!" Sapnap called out. "You are so scared."

"Shut up, Sapnap!" she chuckled.

"Scared of what?" Dream asked innocently.

"Meeting you," George answered. Traitor.

"Forgive me," Y/n started, sitting up in her seat and pulling open her hood to watch George play, "for being nervous to meet Mr. Speedrun in front of a huge live audience." She decided to joke around to hopefully ease the nervousness under her skin. "I'm just worried he's going to flirt with me again and I'll have to embarrass him in front of everyone by rejecting him again."

They all laughed.

"I mean, you already said Karl was in the lead for being your Minecraft boyfriend, so I really have no shot," Dream said.

"As if I'm letting some girl named Bugsy steal my fiance!" Sapnap yelled.

"Ah!" The attention was ripped away from Y/n as George screamed. Y/n looked at the screen, watching as her friend was getting attacked by a hoard of zombie pigmen.

"Why did you hit one, George?" she teased.

"I didn't mean to! AHH!!" he screeched, making everyone laugh. "STOP ATTACKING ME!"

"George!" Dream laughed. "Just run, you won't be able to kill them all!"

"I'm trying!" George fell in lava and screamed again. His death appeared on the screen and Y/n could hear him slam his desk. "That run was so good until the zombie pig came out of nowhere."

He started a new run and it was quiet for a moment before Dream's soft voice spoke again. "Well, Bugsy. I hope you forgive me for taking so long to speak to you."

"I-I was just kidding about you being a pussy," she mumbled, making him laugh.

"No, it's true. I was."

"Come on, Dream, sliding in my DMs is easy," she joked. "You could have if you wanted to."

"Trust us," George laughed, "he wanted to."

"What?" Dream asked George loudly, making Sapnap laugh.

"Dream, you talk about her all the time. George and I were both led to believe you were already friends based on how you talk about her."

"How I talk about her? What does that mean?" Dream sounded defensive and it made Y/n smile.

"You're always like, 'Bugsy did this' and 'Bugsy tweeted that', and 'I have to do a face reveal before Bugsy does because she'll outshine me'," Sapnap teased.

"Okay, the last one? I never said that. You're lying about that."

"But the rest of it is true?" Y/n teased.

"Look, you play good and your tweets are funny! I didn't come on here to get bullied, oh my gosh."

**********

A/N: this is my first time attempting a social media fic so the theme of this series is gonna be ignore the number of likes/retweets and stuff just know that y/n is a much smaller streamer she only gets a lot of likes and stuff when it involves other mcyt ya know okay fun times 

Please give feedback!! I hope you enjoy it!!! I don’t have a schedule right now but I might in the future if this series gets a lot of attention :) as of right now i’ll try to update at least once a week! 

NEXT

[extasiswings]

“I felt it shelter to speak to you.” for Buddie

This was...not supposed to be this long but all the recent promo content has been...inspiring. Anyway...on ao3 here.

The first attack happens on a Saturday afternoon.

There’s nothing special about the day, nothing strange. Christopher is at a friend’s birthday party, Buck is off somewhere with Taylor, and Eddie is grocery shopping before he’s meant to meet Ana for an early dinner.

His shoulder aches a little—that’s what he notices first—but that’s not too unusual. It happens sometimes. Even as physical therapy has helped him regain strength and mobility in his arm and shoulder, a high caliber sniper round ripping through his upper chest is no minor injury. Plus, while he’s hardly ancient, he’s not even as young as he was when he was shot the first time, and those bullets left behind their own patches of scar tissue and occasional twinges.

So. His shoulder aches. It’s fine. He ignores it and moves on. Goes through the store, checks out, put his bags in the backseat—

There’s a glare off a window in the apartment building across the street.

Eddie reaches for the handle of his door.

Suddenly, his fingers start tingling, uncomfortable pricks of icy numbness traveling up his hands like they’ve fallen asleep, but shaking them out doesn’t help. And then, without warning, pain lances through his chest, sharp and acute, and he can’t breathe properly, as if his torso has been trapped in a vise that’s slowly tightening more and more.

His vision swims. He sways on his feet, grasping at the door handle with clumsy, numb fingers to keep himself upright.

He feels like—he feels—

He feels like he’s dying. It strikes him with sudden clarity. He’s dying. Dying in a random parking lot—he always assumed he was too young to have a heart attack but the symptoms fit and he’s just—

He can’t. He can’t die. Not when he’s survived everything else. This can’t be—

“Sir?” There’s a woman with a station wagon parked in the space next to his truck and she’s looking at him with no small amount of concern. “Are you okay?”

Eddie’s mouth is so dry and his breathing so irregular that it takes him a moment to respond.

“I—I think I need to go to the hospital,” he grits out as another wave of dizziness threatens to send him to his knees.

She calls 911. Eddie spares a moment to be grateful that the paramedics who show up a few minutes later aren’t from the 118.

As it turns out, he’s not dying. And he didn’t have a heart attack.

“A panic attack?” Eddie’s voice is distant to his own ears as he stares at the ER doctor in disbelief, his stomach flipping with a new kind of dread. “Are you sure?”

“Your symptoms resolved on their own and your EKG is normal, Mr. Diaz,” she replies as she flicks through the screens of his chart on her tablet. “And nothing in your prior history or other recent tests indicates that there’s anything physically wrong with you—you were healthy before you were shot and your recovery has progressed smoothly up to this point.”

She pauses and looks back at him. “Have you...spoken to a therapist? I noticed that your treating physician made a referral for counseling when you were originally discharged, but…”

Eddie clears his throat roughly. “Yeah, no, I, uh...with the PT schedule and everything else going on, I never followed up with that. But I’ve been fine. It never seemed necessary.”

“With all due respect, Mr. Diaz,” the doctor says, “you’re in the emergency room because of an acute stress response in which your brain tricked your body into believing you were in danger to such an extent that you thought you were dying. I’m not sure you’re as fine as you think.”

There’s probably some truth to that. Eddie can admit that much. But that doesn’t mean he needs—he’s been shot before. He’s been in a warzone. He didn’t need therapy to move forward from it then and he shouldn’t now. He can—he can handle this. He can make himself get over it.

He’s already spent months leaning heavily on everyone around him. The thought of not being okay, of asking for more help when he’s finally easing back into working, when things are finally getting back to normal, when they all have their own issues to focus on—

God, it makes him want to throw up.

So...no. He’s okay. Because not being okay isn’t an option.

He’s fine. The panic attack was...a fluke.

“I appreciate the advice,” Eddie says finally. “I’ll think about it.”

He can tell the doctor doesn’t believe him when her lips thin.

“You know, more likely than not, the panic attacks will keep happening if you do nothing,” she points out. “Ignoring this won’t make it go away.”

“I understand,” Eddie replies. “If that’s all, does that mean I can get out of here?”

The doctor sighs. “Sure.”

Eddie’s phone rings while he’s in an Uber on the way back to his truck. It’s Ana.

He swears under his breath as he sees the time—he hadn’t called anyone, hadn’t wanted the hospital to call anyone either, but that means he’s now late for a date that he doesn’t really want to keep after everything and further doesn’t leave him with any good excuses for his absence except the truth which...he doesn’t really want to admit.

Before the shooting, Carla told him to make sure he was following his heart. And he’s been too exhausted and focused on his recovery to really think too hard about that. But now—

For a moment, Eddie considers it. Telling Ana the truth. Showing her some of the dark, messy, ugly pieces of himself. Being vulnerable.

The very idea makes him recoil. Not because he thinks she would run away necessarily, but because he just...can’t.

He can’t. Not with her.

And if he’s that uncomfortable with the idea of letting in someone he’s been dating for over half a year, if he can’t imagine himself ever actually being comfortable with that...then what the hell is he doing?

He calls her back when he gets to his truck.

“Hey—I’m so sorry, I had a little emergency—yeah, everything’s fine now, but I’m not sure I’m up for going out. Can I meet you at your place? ...okay, great. See you soon.”

He may know even less about ending a relationship than he does about dating in general, but he figures he at least owes it to her to end things in person.

*

Eddie goes to work on Monday feeling fine. Great, even. He sleeps well the night before, he gets Christopher off to school on time, traffic is light enough that he gets to the station early—

Everything is fine. By all accounts it should be a good day.

At least, that’s what he thinks right up until all of them get different emergency alerts sent to their phones and they find out the city’s systems have been hacked. From that point forward, everything is chaos. Damage control. Twenty-car pile-ups because stoplights are being messed with, an outbreak of animals from the zoo when the electric locks on their enclosures released—

Eddie’s fine though. He’s fine. It’s nothing he can’t handle—in fact, he’s usually great with chaos. He’s focused and sure and capable. Nothing else matters but the work, certainly not himself. When he’s busy, he has no time to think about anything else.

The gradually worsening tension in his shoulders can be ignored. The way he has to clench his hands into fists to keep them from shaking in a way he hasn’t had to do since his earliest days in Afghanistan can be brushed off. He doesn’t have time to think about anything but the jobs in front of him, which means he doesn’t have time to think about his own state.

Brush it off, pick yourself up, keep moving forward. That’s what he knows, that’s what he can do.

Except, then they end up at the hospital and—

A medevac helicopter falls off the roof. Bobby nearly joins it. Buck and Eddie barely manage to get him back.

A cold sweat breaks out on Eddie’s brow as Bobby leans heavily against the wall next to the roof access door to catch his breath. His stomach roils. He doesn’t feel fully connected to his own body, caught somehow between present and past, a rooftop in Los Angeles and a desert in Afghanistan.

He breathes in. He tamps down on the rising panic.

Bobby is fine. The helicopter pilots and their patient are fine.

He’s fine. He’s fine.

“Are you okay?”

Eddie jumps at the question, his head whipping around to find the source. Buck’s brow furrows as he holds up his hands.

“Sorry,” Buck says quietly. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

Eddie swallows hard and shakes his head. “You’re fine, don’t worry about it.”

He glances toward the door. “You know, I think I’m going to head back down,” he says, hoping Buck won’t notice the fact that he hasn’t answered the original question. “I want to make sure the pilots are holding up alright.”

“I can come—” Buck starts to offer, only for Eddie to cut him off.

“Someone should stay with Bobby,” he replies. He forces a smile as Buck’s eyes search his face. “I’ll be fine.”

Buck glances at Bobby, then back to Eddie before he finally nods.

“Okay,” he says. “But here, take the radio. If anything happens—”

“I’ll let you know.”

Eddie makes it down one flight of stairs before he decides to take the elevator the rest of the way down. The numbers on the top of the doors tick down, down, down—

And then, abruptly, the elevator lurches to a halt, throwing Eddie off balance and into the wall as the lights go out, plunging him into total darkness.

His ears ring from the impact.

He’s trapped. Trapped in a metal box in the dark. A box that could easily become a coffin if the emergency stop failed and sent it careening down to crash at the bottom of the elevator shaft.

Eddie’s breathing speeds up against his will. His chest starts to hurt.

Not again, he thinks vaguely. Not here, not now, not again.

But. He can’t move. He can’t breathe. Some distant part of his mind recognizes that what he’s feeling isn’t real, that he just needs to calm down, but he can’t—

He’s going to die. He’s going to—

The radio crackles in his belt.

“Eddie? Eddie! Can you hear me?”

Eddie’s mind latches onto the sound of Buck’s voice like a lifeline in an ocean of distress. It takes him a moment to make his trembling hands work through their numbness, to remind his fingers how to work the buttons, but eventually, he lifts the radio to his mouth.

“I’m here,” he says. His voice shakes. “I’m in the elevator. It’s—I don’t know which floor. Or if I’m between floors. I don’t—”

He shudders. His eyes close, not that it really matters given how dark the space is already.

“It’s okay,” Buck replies. “It’s okay, Eddie, we’ll find you. We’ll get you out, don’t worry.”

“I don’t want to die here.” It slips out of him before he can pull it back. Buck takes a sharp breath on the other end of the line.

“That’s not going to happen,” Buck says firmly, although his own voice seems less steady than usual. “I would never let that happen. I’ve got your back, remember? Always.”

A shudder rips down Eddie’s spine and he slides against the wall to sit on the floor. The walls still feel too restricting, like they’re closing in on him more each moment that he looks away.

The radio crackles again.

“Eddie. What can I do? What do you need?” Buck asks.

I don’t know. I don’t—I can’t—

“Eddie.” The fear and desperation in Buck’s voice cuts through the fog in Eddie’s mind.

He never wants Buck to sound like that.

“Keep talking?” Eddie replies. “I—just keep talking to me. Please?”

Don’t go, is what he really means. Stay with me.

He’s never allowed himself to say those things though. Not during the early days of the pandemic when they were sharing a bed in Buck’s loft. Not after he moved back home with Christopher and the other side of his bed felt too empty for sleep to come easily. And certainly not after he started dating Ana.

During his recovery, he never had to ask Buck for anything really. Buck was always just...there. Even though he was with Taylor, he was still there with Eddie and with Christopher whenever Eddie needed him. Like he knew somehow. Or maybe as if he needed to be there as much as Eddie needed him there.

Eddie hasn’t looked too closely at any of that. He’s not ready to. It’s too much, too complicated, too—too—

Dangerous.

“What do you want to talk about?”

Eddie swallows hard as his head rests against the wall. As he allows the sound of Buck’s voice to wrap around him like armor. Like home. Insulating him against the panic and isolation.

“Anything,” he says quietly. “Just keep talking.”

And Buck does. He talks about everything and nothing, random facts and stories from his past that Eddie hasn’t heard before, he talks and talks and talks until his voice grows hoarse in Eddie’s ear and the pressure on Eddie’s lungs eases.

Eddie exhales shakily and takes a few deep breaths as he continues to listen, as his body shifts from hyper-awareness and panic to wrung out exhaustion. When Buck finally cuts off, it’s because there’s an ugly screech of metal as the elevator doors are pried open, as light filters back in.

Eddie’s legs are unsteady as he gets to his feet. He trips on the edge of the elevator door when he exits—

Buck catches him before he can fall. Because of course he does.

“Thank you,” Eddie breathes into Buck’s shoulder as he finds his balance.

Buck shakes his head. “I promised we’d get you out, didn’t I? Besides, I—I shouldn’t have let you go alone.”

“I decided—”

“I shouldn’t have let you,” Buck repeats, low but insistent. His eyes meet Eddie’s and Eddie swallows hard.

“You weren’t okay. Were you?” Buck asks. And Eddie—

He wants to lie. Part of him does at least.

But he can’t lie to Buck.

Not to Buck.

“No,” he confesses. It’s half a whisper. “No, I wasn’t.”

Buck bites his lip and nods once.

“Okay,” he says. “We’ll figure it out.”

And somehow, Eddie believes him.