#thank you sweet pea! i love these things i love seeing everyone’s answers

[ldysmfrst]

American Mate (12) - Everyone Deserves a Second Chance

Paring: Hybrid!BTS Ot7 x Plus-sized Human FemReader

Status: Ongoing series

Chapter number: 12 of unknown

Word count for Chapter: 9,756

Work count for Story: 86,779

Genre: Hybrid Playmate Au inspired by works created by @yoongiofmine

A little about the author: I am a mother of two beautiful children, one of whom has special needs, and the other loves everyone. I started a Patreon, and I would be grateful if you donated to help me make ends meet while I am out of work.

Warnings: NOT BETA READ!! This chapter does have pack dynamics, comfort, possessiveness, angst, minor mentions of past trauma, and self-doubt.

BTS HYBRID ANIMAL TYPES: Seokjin - Roan Ferret, Yoongi - Black Jaguar, Hoseok - Marten, Namjoon - Alaskan Timber Wolf, Jimin - Red Panda, Taehyung - White Southwest African Tiger, Jungkook - Flemish Giant Rabbit

AMERICAN MATE MASTER LIST / LDYSMFRST MASTER LIST

Can you do that? 

Can you give them a chance?

Yoongi has more than once said that he would protect you, and now he seems also to want to protect you from his pack if they overstep. Is that something you should be worried about?  Could you really ask him to stand against his pack for you? No, not really.

Then again, they are already protective of you– like all of them. They want others, non-pack mates, to know that you are theirs. If this morning was any example of them being protective or possessive, does it get more or less dramatic from here? 

Are they just words they will use, or are they actions, too?

You are special to them. Jin told you this during your non-date date and made a change in the contract. The rest of the pack is drawn to you and finds ways to get close to you, seemingly without your knowledge. But oddly enough, you are not offended that they are doing such a thing. 

The bigger question is, what will they show you off as? 

As of right now, you are only you.

You will find your answers over the next few weeks – you have to.

“Prime Alpha? Luna is ready for us to return to the conference room,” Derik informs him with a smile as he takes in the stressed appearance and scents of those in the breakroom. Knowing these Alphas are mated to his Luna calms his heart and his Beta. 

“Thank you,” Namjoon says as he moves to leave. 

Yoongi bolts from the room faster than the rest as his Alpha tries to claw his way out from being separated from you. At this point, he could care less about following any kind of protocol. His only goal is to make sure you are alright since he was not around to protect you. 

Jungkook flits between wanting to go after Yoongi and wanting to respect his Prime Alpha. Unlike Yoongi, he knows he cannot test Namjoon the way Yoongi, Seokjin, and even Taehyung can. 

“Joonie.” Jin calls, pointing to the fidgeting youngest mate, which causes both of the remaining older Alphas to smile. 

“Jungkook-ah,” Namjoon says, gaining his attention with wide doe-like eyes. “You can go ahead. Make sure Yoongie-hyung is allowing our new mate space to breathe. We will follow.”

Breaking into a big toothy smile, Jungkook nods rapidly with his bunny ears flopping along. He takes off down the hall without a glance back, leaving Derik, Namjoon, and Seokjin chuckling. 

“Common, let us go and see if everything has settled with your Luna, Derik,” Seokjin says, taking Namjoon’s arm and pulling him along. He is just as excited as he is worried about the answer.

Walking down the hall, the conference room door is still open, and the scent of vanilla and sweet peas soothes the frazzled nerves of the Bangtan packmates as they reenter. 

At this point, the Director has moved to the head of the table, and Derik moves to an empty seat next to him. Y/n is sitting with Yoongi to her right, Taehyung to her left, and Jungkook standing behind her with Jimin and Hoseok on each side. 

Not wanting to crowd her anymore, Jin and Namjoon return to their seats and smile at the sight of their mates. All of them happily talk together, and all of them touch each other in some way. 

You rest your good hand on Jungkook’s while it is resting on your shoulder as you talk to Yoongi. Yoongi has his tail wrapped around you again but is leaning against Jimin. Hoseok runs his fingers through Taehyung’s hair while listening to him talk about what happened this morning. In the meantime, Jimin is holding onto Taeyung’s hand.

“If I didn’t know any better,” Seokjin whispers to Namjoon. “ I’d say she was already bonded with all of them.”

Before Namjoon can reply, Manager Sejin enters the room with a stack of papers in hand, ���Well, the contract has been finalized with BigHit, and I have everyone's copy with me. Prime Alpha, do you want me to keep the pack’s contract in the main binder?”

Namjoon’s eyes crinkle into small slits as his posture visibility drops in relaxation as he hears the news. Looking at you after, he says,  “You signed.” 

You return his smile; this time, it reaches your eyes as you nod your head, “Yes, Prime Alpha, I signed. I had some worries,” you glance at the three you kept behind, “but your pack is very convincing.”

That breaks the gate for celebrations all around. All you can do is giggle as the group of Alphas acts like clowns with funky dancing, shouting, and hugs.

“Well then, I’d hate to disrupt the mood, but Mr. Gulley and I must return to work,” Director Johnson announces as he and Derik stand to leave. 

You also stand, “Thank you for your time, Director. I will maintain reports to you as required. Also, if the new girl needs any advice or help, please let her know to give me a call.”

“No worries, Luna. She is doing great, but we will keep that in mind. You just worry about healing and seeing where this,” Derek points around the room at the Bangtan pack, “all goes.”

“I think I have no choice but to heal,” you respond, shaking your braced hand at him with a chuckle. However, the look on Derik’s face makes you slightly falter because his eyes are reflective, making you think he is talking about something other than your hand. 

After those two leave, Manager Sejin announces that he has arranged to have food delivered to the pack house soon since it is past lunchtime. This prompts everyone to head out to the vans. 

Like the last time you left the office, you find yourself stuck in the middle, but the whole pack is present this time. Everyone has started talking in smaller group conversations that you end up just listening to, as most of it is in Korean.

One thing is certain: your Korean should improve by the time you finish the contract. The thought causes you to sigh to yourself and catch Jimin's attention.

“You okay?” Jimin asks, coming to walk by your side. 

“Yeah, everything is going to be okay. Just realizing that I will need to brush up on my Korean more to keep up with everyone but other than that I am actually okay,” you smile. 

“That’s good. You can also help us with our English. Remember, if we are ever too much, which we will be, you can always go to your den. That is your space, and we will only enter if you request us to or if we think you are in danger,” he says with a seriousness that resembles your time with him on the balcony. 

“I will and I will follow the same respect with each of your dens.” 

Exiting the elevator, which surprisingly held all of you, the boys come to a stop. Glances are passed between everyone, and some are glaring at the vans. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask them with a sigh. You hope they are still not holding on to what happened this morning, but Taehyung won’t meet your gaze, and you are pretty sure it is still the issue. 

“Do you guys still have an issue with James?”

“No, we don’t,” responds Namjoon, to which you raise your eyebrow. “Mr. Green is fine, and we will be fine with him as one of our drivers.”

“So what’s with all the glances and glares?”

“Sugar, the vans only fit five passengers,” Jungkook says as if you should know what that means.

“Yeah, I know. There are eight of us, so we have to split up. We did that before,” you say with slight confusion. “Can we not do that again?”

“What our youngest isn’t saying, Princess, is that everyone wants to be in the van you are in.” Yoongi clarifies, which makes you blush slightly.

“So what do we do? Play rock, paper, scissors?” You say jokingly. Only they don’t see it as a joke, immediately turning into a circle and standing at the ready. “Wait! You aren’t really gonna do that, are you?”

“To be honest, it is the fairest thing to do,” Taehyung says. “However, I get an automatic seat because I am in service to you, right Namjoon-hyung?”

“True, he has to stay with you. However, the rest of us will play gawi, bawi, bo, which is the Korean version of your game of luck. Everyone ready?” Namjoon asks, and everyone nods. 

“Taehyungie, call it out.”

After a hysterical match, your van ends up with Jimin and Namjoon. To your surprise, the driver is James. Before you can say hello or get in the van, Taehyung walks up to James and bows, “I am sorry for my rudeness this morning, Mr. Green. I was not aware of your friendship with Miss Y/n.”

James happily accepted the apology but still seemed stiff around you. You don’t blame him for how things went down. Though, you do hope that he will relax around you again. Maybe he will when he doesn’t have a tiger hybrid looking like he is still about to hunt him down still.

Getting in the van, you sit in one of the swivel chairs, only to be pulled onto the bench seat with Taehyung to your left. Glancing at him, you can see that his face is trying to be relaxed, but the thinness of his lips gives him away.

“Still feeling possessive, Taehyung?”

His eyes widen at your question, “Sorry, I struggle with that often, especially when there is someone new to the pack. Are you okay with this? I mean, with me sitting here?”

You glance at Namjoon and Jimin, who are observing. You know, somehow, that if you had a problem with the seating arrangement, either would switch in a heartbeat. 

“The driver doesn’t know about the agreement, and even though he signed an NDA, you can never be too cautious, but if you require me to kneel,” Taehyung glances at the open petition, his voice soft as not to carry. “I would kneel as ordered.”

Returning your gaze to Taehyung, you consider his words.  He is right. Unfortunately, some people don’t follow the NDAs, and you don’t know James that well yet. There is no promise that Taehyung’s submissive behaviors won't get out to the wrong people.

“No, this is fine besides you need to wear a seatbelt.” You agree but decide to clarify: “For safety reasons, I would like to modify the Acts agreement when dealing with transportation. I propose that you sit behind me, and if no seat behind me is available, you will sit to my left. Are the modifications acceptable?”

“As you wish,” Taehyung agrees. His posture still remains slightly stiff as he buckles up. He doesn’t think you fully understand your position, but you will in time. 

“Ooohoo, it is always a treat to see a tamed tiger every once in a while,” Jimin smiles, and you giggle. 

Tamed tiger, your ass. 

He is stronger and an Alpha, and nothing is tame about him. Even so, his choice to be put in this position is entirely on him. You are sure there are 100 different things he could do to get out of having to be like this with you, but for some reason, he didn’t argue about it.

Trying to avoid that thought process, you redirect the conversation, “I told Yoongi that I wanted to get him and Taehyung a bell because they are both sneaky. Jungkook is sneaky, too. If it weren’t for your manager, I would have been so upset with Thumper and Kisa when they hid from me.”

When Yoongi’s nickname is used, Taehyung and Namjoon start chuckling. You get slightly embarrassed thinking that maybe you should only use the nicknames when talking with the corresponding person. 

“Oh, don’t mind us,” Namjoon says. “We are just remembering how excited he was to tell us you gave him a pet name.”

“Oh, I am glad he is excited and not ashamed.” You smile, still making a mental note to talk to them about when it would be acceptable to use your names for them. 

“Trust me, Hyung is not one to keep quiet about something he doesn’t like,” Jimin adds. “He can be kind of rude about it sometimes, but he will also apologize right after.”

“Good to know the jaguar is hot-tempered like a normal feline. Gotcha.” You shake your head and smile. “Are you also hot-tempered, Taehyung?”

“Could you not tell this morning?” he snarkily replies.

“Miss Y/n,” Namjoon calls your attention. 

“Namjoon, you are stuck with me for the next two months, and the rest of the pack has dropped the formalities with me, and I with them for the most part. You can too, if you want to,” you offer.

That pulls a smile from Namjoon, “I would like that. I do have something that I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Sure, what’s on your mind?” You sit back in your seat more and turn to face him fully. 

Taehyung has angled himself in the corner while his tail brushes your arm slightly, his eyes also on the Prime Alpha. Jimin has also rotated the chair to face Namjoon as the van becomes quieter. 

“Well… ah… now the contract is signed,” Namjoon licks his lips and glances at the other two hybrids. “You went on your date with Seokjin-hyung. Did you think it went well?”

“Hyung,” says Taehyung with a sneer. “You know it went well. I heard you and Jinnie-hyung talk about it after they got home.”

You put your hand on Taehyung’s knee, which shocked him. You answer, “Yes, Namjoon. It went well. I have never had an experience like that. It was nice to get to know Jin. I am sorry, was I supposed to report that to you?”

“Oh no. You don’t have to report anything like that to me. I was just,” Namjoon pauses. “Y/n, I want you to accompany me tomorrow night.”

“Oh, of course,” you respond, pulling out your phone to enter the request into your calendar.  Part of being a Playmate means that each Bangtan Packmate is able to request you, and it’s more on a first-come, first-served basis.

“What times are you requesting? I think Hoseok was wanting to request time tomorrow with some of the others as well but I didn’t get a time frame from him. Maybe you can join?” 

Looking at the calendar, you notice how blank it is right now. Your life is so simple. Each day is practically clear, but you have a feeling it's about to get filled quickly.

You hear snickering coming from Taehyung. “Hyung, that isn’t how you ask a lady out.”

“Ask out?” Then it hits you. Namjoon wants his not-date date with you to be tomorrow. Looking up from your phone, you see the Prime Alpha, the Alpha Wolf, blushing.

“Yah! I was getting there,” Namjoon sighs. Clearly flustered with the situation. 

“Namjoon,” you sweetly say his name. “Are you asking me to join you like I did with Seokjin?”

Another sigh leaves the Alpha sitting before you, “Yes, but it would be in the evening. You would have time to spend with Hoseok-hyung in the morning. Maybe.” 

Namjoon straightens his back, causing you to do the same, and looks at you, “Y/n, would you please be my date to the LACMA Gala tomorrow night? It would be an honor to have you by my side, not only to get to know you better but to show you to the world.”

“You want me to go to the LACMA Gala? With you? There will be paparazzi there, and it’s a Gala. A huge, fancy, very publicized Gala!” While you were ready for another swanky dinner, you were not ready for an event as publicized and extravagant as this. 

After taking your phone and passing it to Jimin, Namjoon holds your hands in his, sending out his vanilla and leather scent in hopes of calming your nerves.

“Y/n, there will be cameras, but there is nothing, absolutely nothing, that would stop me from having you by my side. I have arranged for gowns to be brought to the pack house, as well as make-up and hair noonas to help prepare you,” informs Namjoon without any hesitation.

“Hyung is going to take care of you, Y/n,” Jimin voices. “You will be treated like a royalty. If there are too many cameras too soon, we can arrange something so that you don’t have to walk the carpet. But you are going to have to get used to cameras eventually. It's hard not to when you are around us.”

“Are you sure you want to be pictured with me? Like at all?” You question Namjoon, but look at everyone in the van. “I wouldn’t want to ruin your reputation.”

Growls resound through the van, causing you to jump slightly, but Namjoon only holds your hands tighter, “Y/n, I thought Hoseok covered this earlier, but let me remind you… Bangtan Pack does not allow for any self-deprecation.”

Shit. 

“I… I wasn’t. I was worried about Army,” you scramble to cover what you said. “They don’t know you have a new playmate, and it may cause a backlash.”

“Nice try. We smelled your scent tinge like perfume when he brought up the fact that it was a Gala, which means you are worried about getting your photo taken, how to behave, or what to wear,” points out Taehyung.

“I know how to behave at a Gala. My mother used to make me go to them all the time. That is the easy part. I was worried about the attire and the photos but also Army.” You defend yourself. “I know how much they mean to you all.”

“Let us worry about the fans. I am sure Manager Sejin and PD-nim have a press release ready to send. Our true Army will be happy for us, and those who don’t will have to deal with it,” Jimin adds. 

“We have everything covered. We have been working on everything since the day you greeted us, as Hobi-hyung said,” continues Jimin. “Let Namjoon-hyung escort you to the Gala, please?”

You are amazed at the confidence the three Alphas before you have regarding this very public event. More so, the intonation that you are more valuable, maybe more so than their Army, sends a slight tingle up and down your spine. 

“Alright. I trust you three.” Focusing back on Namjoon, you smile. “Namjoon, I would be honored to be your plus one at the Gala.”

The rest of the afternoon was relatively simple. Everyone ate the late lunch together and then broke off into different activities. The maknae line decided to play video games while Jin and Hoseok were watching. Namjoon and Yoongi decided to work on some new tracks. 

You decided that it was a good time to unpack. With everything signed now, there wasn’t this hovering anxiety that they would suddenly shove you out the door. 

You left the door open a crack in case anyone needed you or for when they would call for dinner later. Supposedly, Jungkook was to cook tonight. You would have to learn their cooking and cleaning rotations to see where you could help them or squeeze your way into a slot. 

As a child who spent a lot of time alone, you tended to listen to music while doing things. You put on your Pandora, mainly listening to Alternative and American Pop music from your youth and K-pop. 

Currently, you were rocking out and dancing, as much as you could, to God’s Menu between re-folding the clothes you dumped out of your luggage bag Jin let you borrow. 

Unknown to you, Taehyung had lost at the video game and came looking for you since it was his “punishment” to help you. Hearing the music coming from your room, he figured you were just relaxing. He looked through the crack in the door to watch your body move to Felix’s part.

It became a mini battle within himself to watch you. 

He loved how your body moved, even when you had a miss-step. Your musicality was pretty spot on, and your voice was cute when you tried to hit the epically low notes for which the blonde-haired Stray Kids member was known for. 

He knew he could watch and listen to you for hours. 

However, he was jealous that you were dancing to Stray Kids and now to the song One by Astro. Why were these not BTS songs? 

He wants to hear you sing their songs. 

He wants you to be Army. 

He wants to watch you move to the sound of his voice in more ways than one– preferably while under him.

It wasn’t until It’s Gonna Be Me from N*Sync came on that he couldn’t stay away. He knew this one, and it wasn't a rival K-pop band.  When the chorus hit, he pushed open the door and joined in your dancing and singing. 

“But I'm not like them. Baby, when you finally get to love somebody, Guess what?” he croons along with the boy band and dances his way to you.

“Taehyung!” you exclaim, shocked at the hybrid tiger’s entrance and intense look. 

Pulling you close at the end of the chorus, he looks you in the eyes and sings, “It's gonna be me.”

You would freeze in your step, but the ‘lady’ that your mother trained into you keeps moving.

“Keep dancing with me, Y/n. You have great rhythm, and it looks like you know a few different choreographies,” he comments, hoping you will allow him a few more moments of your body moving with his.

“Oh no. I just play around with what I have seen.” Then it hits you… he said a few. Pulling out of his hold, you back up to your phone and pause the music, “How long were you watching me?”

Biting the inside of his cheek at his misstep, he says, “Just two songs. Astro and Stray Kids. Really? No BTS songs?”

You smile softly, thinking this could go one of two ways. Either he will understand that you do like BTS but that they weren't in your Top 3, or he will get possessive because you’re his Playmate and had better like BTS.

“There are BTS songs. Like Zero O’Clock, Run, ah um… Oh, I have Rainy Days and Arson too,” you scramble to list the titles of songs you think deal with BTS. Silently hoping to mention his song gave you bonus points.

Your response grants you a smile from him, “Alright. One of these days, I want to hear you sing one of our songs.”

“Ah, no, thank you. I don’t sing,” you say as you return to folding clothes. Wait, these look already folded. 

Damn.

“You sounded pretty good to that Astro song. I am sure Eunwoo would appreciate your rendition of his part,” he says, joining your side and folding clothes.

“Not gonna happen. Like I will ever get a chance even to meet a member of Astro, that is if Astro still will stay together after everything,” you said absent-mindedly, rubbing the memorial tattoo for Moonbin on your arm.

“Are you okay?” Taehyung asks, noting the sadness in your voice and the hint of mold in your scent.

Glancing up at the man next to you, you see the concern on his face, and his ears are trained on you. Smiling through the sadness of the industry's loss of such a talented person, you nod, “Moonbin’s passing still kinda hits me hard, ya know?”

“He was my first bias, I guess you could say.”

Holding back a growl at the idea of you liking someone else as your bias, Taehyung wraps his tail around your thigh to show comfort– not possession. 

While he wasn’t close to Moonbin, they were all acquaintances because Kookie and Eunwoo were close. A death in the industry hits everyone hard because they all know how hard it is.

“Facebook showed me an ad for True Beauty, starting with Cha Eunwoo, which led me to find out about Astro and, in turn, Moonbin. His dancing was on point, his voice soothing, and his looks were unique in their beauty. I wouldn’t know much more about the industry or Korea if it wasn’t for him.”

“When he passed away, a bunch of Aroha designed this tattoo,” you pull up your shirt, showing your side and the purple crescent moon with the Astro band’s star logo.

“That is a great way to honor him,” Taehyung says as he traces the outline, which shudders your body.

Dropping your shirt back down and blushing, you pick up your clothes and put them away. “What is it that you need?”

“Well, you should be sitting and telling me where to put those. Remember,” he points to himself. “Servant for the foreseeable future.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot that part. Umm… well, can you hang up those up and give Seokjin the luggage cases back, please?” you ask. 

“You got it, but I think his intent was giving them to you,” the tiger says, moving to do as you requested. 

“Oh. He doesn’t need to give me his stuff. I have a smaller set that I can use for now. If I need to buy something bigger later then I will.”

“Who’s buying something bigger?” says Hoseok from the doorway. “Are we going shopping? You know you need me there if we are gonna shop.”

Coming out of the closet, Taehyung smirks, “Your Doll thinks she is gonna get away with buying a new luggage set for when we move cities.”

You scoff at him. What does he mean you think, you know. There is no thinking going on. 

“Oh, a luggage buy, that is a Jinnie-hyungie department. He likes everyone having the same set in their color of choice. You better talk to him first,” advises Hoseok.

“I am perfectly fine with getting my own. It doesn’t have to match anything,” you grumble to yourself; like hell, you will be able to afford to buy a matching set.

“Ahuh, yeah, sure I will let him know you need to talk, Y/n. I'm going to give these back to him and see if there are any plans for tonight, and then I'll be back. Is that okay?” Taehyung asks, his hands full of empty cases.

“Yeah, that’s fine. It’s late though, I think I might just get something small to eat then head to bed,” you say.

“I will tell him you are hungry too,” notes Taehyung, and out the door he goes before you can stop him. 

Seriously, you just said you might eat. 

Restacking the clothes in the open drawer, your mind wanders off to how you might have to watch everything you say because it seems like someone has something to do with it, no matter what you say.

“Doll?” Hoseok calls for your attention. “Out of all of us, Seokjin is the most caring. He basically is our Luna, and with that, he makes sure to feed the pack and he ensures we have everything we need. That includes you now, too.”

“I know. I mean, like, I know, but I don’t know.” You let out a slight whine as you shut the drawer and walk back to the bed. “I know because I have been told, but I have never had someone who would take that role with me.”

“I am Luna of the pack. I am the friend who stops the fights, even if they get physical. I am the one to buy things for people in need,” you tell Hoseok.

Taking a seat next to you, Hoseok smiles his bright sunshine smile. “Doll, you can relax now. You have seven mates all looking to spoil you silly.”

“Seven mates that are bonded to each other, you mean?” you correct his statement, which causes him to panic internally because he didn’t even notice his slip-up. 

“Bonded or not, you are part of our pack for now. So much so that I heard you have a Gala to attend tomorrow.”

“Yep.” You pop the ‘p.’ “Namjoon apparently wants to introduce me to the world.”

“As he should. The Prime Alpha should be the first person to be seen with you in public. It’s his honor to have that privilege,” says Hoseok. 

You nod in agreement. It's odd to think that doing anything with you would be a privilege or an honor, but hybrids have their own culture towards that stuff. 

“I know that I mentioned spending time with you and a few others tomorrow.” He puts his hand up just as to snap to him with an apology on your lips. 

“We would still like to spend time with you tomorrow. The team of noonas that will get you ready will come around 11 am so we can have breakfast together and help you get ready for your debut,” he excitedly tells you.

“That would be wonderful. Thank you for understanding, Hoseok,” you say as you lean against him. 

“Of course, doll,” he says, loosely wrapping his arms around your shoulders, allowing you to pull away if you didn’t want the skinship. When you relax more into his hold, he can’t help but chatter quietly in happiness. 

The rest of the night is simple.

Jin orders food for everyone because you are hungry now and wouldn’t listen to you saying you could just have some fruit, telling you that fruit is a snack and not a proper meal. Also, allowing the youngest to cook would “take too long.”

He also makes you sit with him to order you a new matching suitcase set in a deep purple. He refuses to let you pay him back, nor will he tell you how much it costs. 

All of Bangtan is amused by your interactions and the thought that you still believe you have any choice in matters involving Jin and his deep-seated need to care for others. 

When you woke up the following day, you found yourself lying on top of Jimin and Jungkook’s body pillows, with Hoseok’s pillow under your head, Yoongi’s pillow between your knees, and Namjoon’s blanket covering you.

You had no idea how you got from where you started to where you were, but someone must have carried you to bed since you last remembered watching some Marvel movie.

Fluffing the pillow under your head a bit, you frown. Something feels off. Maybe you should get your own bedding soon. The ones the boys gave you are starting to feel like they aren’t enough. It’s not that they are flat, but they just feel off. 

It doesn’t surprise you, though. Back at your place, your coat closet is more like a linen closet just for blankets and pillows that Evie’s family and your pack keep rotating in and out for you.

After washing your face and throwing on a tank top with a built-in bra and yoga pants, you start to break down your blanket fort, smelling each one along the way to see if it needs to be washed before you return it.

Knock knock

“Come in, I am up,” you call to whoever is on the other side of the door.

Glancing at the opening door, you are greeted by a sleepy-looking shirtless Taehyung, who zombie walks over to you and promptly falls face-first on your pile of folded bedding.

“Tae, I just folded those. If you are so tired, why are you down here?” you question, pulling some of the blankets out from under him.

“Because a certain rabbit told me my Mistress was awake and moving around too much,” he says, grabbing the blanket and pulling, which effectively pulls you down with it. 

Grappling you like an octopus, Taehyung makes you lay with him. With one eye open, he asks, “Why are you up at 7 am?”

Mind you, he completely ignored the shrieking epp sound coming from you as he maneuvered you to where he wanted you, which caused a stampede to come running down the hall. 

Meanwhile, all you could do was try not to die. 

Your mind short-circuiting at the fact the stoic, possessive tiger-turned-koala now has his legs intertwined with yours, his nose pressed into your hair as he buries your face into his non-shirt-covered chest. 

“Sugar?” comes Jungkook, leading the mini stampede into your room only to come to a dead stop and get hit from behind by Jimin. Both are now gapping at the image of your entwined bodies.

“What the…” breathed Jimin as he noticed your tank top had ridden up, allowing them a glimpse of your lower back and some kind of purple ink on your right side. 

“You said Y/n was awake and now I am making her go back to sleep. It’s only 7 am. That is no time to break down a nest,” muttered Taehyung as he attempted to pull you even closer.

“Y/n, why are you breaking down your nest?” asked Jimin, stepping around Jungkook. His eyes take in the almost put-away nest, his memories trying to take over his mind. “Taehyung, who said you could be in her nest without permission too!”

“Minnie-hyung, it’s okay. She isn’t in trouble. You aren’t in trouble,” Jungkook says, pulling Jimin into a hug as his scent starts souring.

“Taehyung! Let me at least look at them to talk to them,” you command as you try to turn around with your eyes closed while trying not to touch the firm expanse of chest before you.  

Reluctantly, he loosens his hold and helps you maneuver to make you the little spoon to his big spoon. Burying his nose in the back of your neck and shoulder, he breathes deeply, allowing your sweet pea and vanilla scent to soak in. 

It’s then that he realizes that you have a tank top on. Nothing stands as a barrier between him and your pure morning scent at your neck. There are faint traces of some of the pack on you from the bedding, but it’s very faint compared to your natural, untainted scent. 

Your skin feels warm against his face and under his arm from where your tank has moved. He melts into that feeling of warmth and belonging. 

You belong in his arms, even if you don’t know it yet. 

“It’s a habit to put away and make my bed every morning, mother’s rules. That and I figured that you guys might want your things back. I can ask Derek or Evie to bring over some of my bedding or buy new ones,” you say in an attempt to calm Jimin.

“It is also about time some of it gets washed, Jimin. I just don’t want to make a bad impression on you guys,” you continue to focus on the now teary-eyed red panda. 

“You don’t,” Jimin starts before he pauses to wipe his eyes. “Sorry...” he clears his throat. “You can keep your nest up all year if you want to. No one will make you break it if you don’t feel the need to.”

“Oh, it’s not a nest,” you smile and giggle. “It’s just bedding. Like a mountain of fluffiness with amazing smells.”

A low growl from the base of your neck vibrates through your body from the hybrid behind you, “It is a nest.” 

Moving to lean over you, Taehyung pulls you to lay on your back. “You have scented bedding from each mate of Bangtan that you surround yourself with every night.”

Jungkook sits next to your head, looking down at you, “You couldn’t sleep until you were surrounded by us, so to speak. Your instincts only settled once you smelt the pack.”

Your mind kind of blimps out at the mention of instincts settling. You always knew the scents were important to you but that’s just because you associated them with good things. So, why would the pack’s scents already be a good thing for you to relax into?

“My previous owners used to make me sleep without a nest,” Jimin says. “If I built one and didn’t break it down before anyone noticed, then I would be beaten like a misbehaving animal.”

Your heart clenches at the similarities in your history, “My mom always said if you couldn’t make a proper bed then how could you do anything of worth in a day. She would take a belt or shoe to me until I had it all put away.”

Watching as silent tears fall down Jimin’s face, you continue, “I learned to go to bed after she did and to wake up early enough that she would never know that I made my blanket fort.”

Low growls resounded from the two closest to you. 

“No more. If you want a nest or whatever you want to call it, in your room then you can make one and keep it up,” says Taehyung.

“If you need new bedding because they are dirty or our scents have faded, then let us know. We will give you something else to add to your nest so that you will always feel at ease,” offers Jungkook.

“You could also, I mean, if you wanted to,” struggles Jimin. “You can also use our pack nest. I am sure the hyungs won’t mind. Or we can make a big one in the living room.”

“Jin had mentioned you are the one who makes the nests for the pack, Jimin. He mentioned maybe we can make one together. I told him I didn’t have a clue how to make a nest just a fort,” growl “ but maybe you can teach me more about what makes a nest… well a nest?” you offer.

“Really? You mean it? You want to make a nest with me?” he lights up, effectively melting the three of you on the bed. “I would love to teach you about nests. I haven’t seen yours fully made, but I would love to.”

“Then it is settled. We will make one together soon. I don’t know how late Namjoon and I will be home tonight, so I might not get a chance to make one before I crash out,” you thoughtfully mention.

“We got you. Just show us the nesting materials that need to be replaced and maybe,” Hoseok glances at Jimin, “Jimin can have a nest built for you when you get home?”

“Ooohh a personally built nest from Jimin? How come I don’t get that?” whines Taehyung as you giggle. 

“I could do that for you, Y/n. Only if you wanted though. I don’t want to overstep any boundaries,” offers Jimin, stepping closer to the bed.

“I would love to come home to a nest made by you,” you agree with a smile. 

Jimin only responds with a deep blush and a stilted whine, to which Jungkook and Taehyung chuckle. 

Taehyung looks at Jungkook and says, “That’s three times now she has done it.” Both of them picked up on you calling the packhouse “home.”

“It’s instinctual,” responds Jungkook as he leans forward, giving Taahyung a soft peck over you. All you can do is watch, but then you realize what you just saw and look away. 

“Ah, guys, umm.. I think I should get to separating and oh yeah! Breakfast with Hoseok,” you say as you wiggle your way out from between the two lovebirds. 

Standing up, you and Jimin make a lovely blushing pair, which just makes the other two laugh even more. The three of them end up helping you strip your bed completely, deciding that the main sheets were too chemical-smelling for them. 

You end up with three piles: those that need to be washed, those that need to be scented, and those that need to be tossed out altogether. Walking out of your bedroom with the maknae line in tow gains you some smiles from the rest of the pack. 

You are immediately brought into a hug by Hoseok, who is the only one sporting a frown. “What’s wrong, Hoseok?”

“I will have to cancel helping you get ready for the gala. I forgot that I have to go with Jin-hyung and Taehyung-ah to a meeting Namjoon-ah scheduled this morning at,” he tells you. 

Pulling out of his hug, you look at the rest of the pack, who all have dopy looks on their faces. “What?”

Yoogni walks up next to you, his tail wrapping around you. “You smell like the young ones, and you let Hoseok hug you, Princess. That is a big step for you, no?”

Your face drops into thought at his comment. 

First, Taehyung grappled you while (and still) half naked, then Jungkook kept leaning against you to grab stuff, and Jimin laid his head in your lap as you discussed why you didn’t like how some of the material felt, hence the toss out pile.

That was a lot of touching. 

Now Hoseok is hugging you, but you don’t pull back until you notice the others watching the two of you. 

“I guess I am just trying to follow the hybrid pack mentality. Evie and Derek are also very touchy-feely. Getting around your idol and bonded mate status just takes time,” you attempt to reason out.

“Anyways,” looking back at Hoseok. “I guess then it’s just breakfast with you, Tae, and Jiminnie? If that’s okay with you? It’s almost done. Jin-hyung is making us quiche,” he says with hope.

“Sure! I love quiche. Especially with spinach or mushrooms and tons of cheese!” you say, licking your lips. The action caught everyone’s attention for very ‘innocent’ reasons.

“Where are we going to eat?”

“We can eat in the dining room, living room, or one of the den’s really wherever you want to?” offers Jimin.

“Well, I normally don’t eat in bed,” you say, making a few of them give you a shocked look. “Unless it's for a special reason. So I think that living room would be more comfortable but what about the rest of you?”

“I am headed to the gym near the guest house with Namjoon,” Jungkook says. “I'm going to grab my towel and meet you there, hyung.”

“I am going to head to the in-house studio and work on some solo stuff. Call me if you need me, Princess,” Yoogni says, kissing softly on your hair before going down the hall with his coffee. 

“I will eat in the kitchen and then get ready for the meeting,” Seokjin mentions as he bolts to the kitchen, hearing the timer.

Watching the pack runoff, you shake your head, “You guys really take things seriously, don’t you?”

Grabbing your hand, Hoseok pulls you to the couch and puts you in the middle, with Jimin on the other side. Taehyung heads to the kitchen to help Seokjin bring out everything.

“With a pack like ours, you kind of need to. I don’t understand how Alpha Seung-cheol does it with 13 pack members,” comments Jimin. “Then again, they mostly have Betas and Omegas. Maybe it’s easier that way.”

“My Omega, Evie, comes from a pack of 10. They didn’t have an Alpha either, but her dad, Papa Earl, sure as heck acted like one.” Settling back against the couch, you smile softly, remembering the mixed cat pack.

“Besides being a larger pack of Alphas, I will always be serious about spending time with someone I think is worth it,” Hoseok says. “So yes, if anyone had stayed behind, they would have been sent off with orders to practice the updated dance routine or something.”

Draping himself over your shoulders again, he continues, “This is my time with you, doll. Jimin-ah is lucky to be allowed to join and well… Taehyung has no choice.”

“I heard that,” Taehyung says, bringing in plates of food. “She could have sent me away if she wanted me to go, but she is the only one who can right now.”

“Thank you, Taehyung,” you say as you accept your plate. “Wahhh, this smells amazing, Jin! Thank you for making it!”

Seokjin carries a tray of drinks as she blushes at your comment, “It’s nothing. I figured this would be quick and easy to make. There is more in the kitchen. I already saved food for anyone else who might eat. Now you all have fun.”

Seokjin follows through with what he said about eating in the kitchen and then going upstairs. Literally, no one walks through the living room while the three of you talk about what is to come for the boys concerning the tour. 

Taehyung adamantly chooses to sit on a pillow at your feet and feed you. Hoseok and Jimin tease him for being a ‘good boy.’ You don’t mind; eating hasn't been easy with your dominant hand in a brace. 

However, your eyes keep wandering to his bare chest, and you continuously internally scold yourself for the distraction. He is just helping in penance; it’s not sexual, it’s not flirting, it’s not the K-drama male lead feeding his lover move… it’s not!

Thankfully, no one has commented on your distraction, even though they have all noticed it. 

Taehyung keeps a mask of indifference while feed you but still attempts to find ways to flex more when you are looking his way. There is a slight disappointment in your lack of reaction to his physical display but he thinks you may be more for one to be chased. His Alpha doesn’t mind playing a game of cat and mouse with you– he is a tiger after all.

Jimin internally laughs at your reluctance to give in and watch Tae’s muscles move with the darkness of his eyes as he feeds you. Meanwhile, when you aren’t looking at him or he is not feeding you, Jimin notes that Taehyung is always eyeing your feet. Jimin wonders what color the tiger is wanting to paint them for you.

Hoseok, on the other hand, attempts to keep you engaged and help you while mentally preparing to scold the younger one for not getting dressed appropriately. However, the tint of arousal in your scent makes him question if he should praise the tiger instead.

By the time you are done eating, your stomach is full, and so is your calendar. Hoseok had noticed that you had not been added to the group calendar or the group chat since the meeting, so he added you to both. 

“Well, doll, it was a pleasure having breakfast with you, but Tae-ah and I have to get ready for our meeting. We have to leave in about 30 mins,” Hoseok says, taking Jimin’s plate and nudging the tiger to stand.

“I think Hyung said that the team would be here around 11 or 12 to have you ready. He also ordered you lunch,” Taehyung added as he took your plates and his to the kitchen. 

“So I have a couple of hours till then,” you hmm, thinking of what to do. 

“I could show you the pack nest so you can see how big they can be,” timidly asks Jimin. 

“Oh sure,” you smile at the thought of seeing such a precious area. “Hoseok and Taehyung, I am going with Jimin. Have fun at your meeting. I guess I will see you later.”

“Probably not, actually,” Taehyung says with a scrunched-up brow. “I think Jimin and Yoongi are on guard for today.”

“Yeah. So Yoongi and I can be around you until the noonas come. When they arrive, we will make sure no one bothers or scents you until you are with Prime Alpha for the date tonight,” informs Jimin.

“Oh, that’s right,” you frown.

“Hey, hey,” Hoseok says, taking your hands in his. “Remember, no one is leaving you behind. We wish we were around you, but this is just something that helps our Alphas. Also, please give Namjoon the opportunity to show you who he is.”

“I will,” you smile. “Everyone deserves a second chance.”

You have never… NEVER… seen a pack nesting room that big. Maybe it was because they are all Alphas?  You know from Evie’s family that Omegas can get really picky about how a nest is set up. So her pack ended up with 4-5 nests at a time. 

The other glaringly obvious difference between your ‘human nests’ and a hybrid Idol’s nest was the quality of the nesting material. If you thought the bedding in your room was luxury, then the nesting room was made for royalty. 

There were plans made to take a trip to a place called Hastens to pick out new materials for both the pack nest and your human nest. You tried to look it up only to have Jimin take your phone away. 

Apparently, I shouldn’t waste my time looking because it can only be felt, and he was paying, so picking the cheapest won't work, especially since they don’t have a website and don’t list their prices. It’s one of those places you must reserve and leave your credit card on file to walk through the door. 

While in the nesting room, you respectfully stayed off the actual nesting bed out of respect, but that promptly went out the window when you stood up to hug Jungkook, and he bulldozed you on it. The excuse is that you can’t plan what you are doing if you don’t know how it feels. 

It was like a cloud and a lot colder than what you were expecting.

“How is it so cold with all these blankets on it?” you asked no one in particular.

“Cooling water system,” replies Namjoon, standing in the doorway in a gunmetal gray suit and tie similar to the one he wore yesterday. “Since hybrids run warmer than humans and Alphas run the hottest, they came up with a tube-like cooling system with water that runs under the mattress.”

“Does it only cool or can it heat?” 

“Y/n, with seven Alphas around, if you ever get cold… I am sure someone would be willing to warm you up,” says Taehyung as he walks into the nesting room dressed in a solid black-on-black three-piece suit. 

You unabashedly trail your eyes over his form. Like you can’t help it, his pants hug his legs almost like skinny jeans but formal. His jacket accentuates his muscular but slim build. 

“I, umm,” your eloquence is astounding. Luckily, a flying pillow from Jimin saves you.

“Yah, you can’t just go around saying things like that,” the panda yells.

Namjoon picks up the pillow and tosses it back on the nesting bed, “Taehyung isn’t wrong though is he? Tell me which of us would deny a request to cuddle with Y/n to make her more comfortable in the nest.”

“Who is cuddling with my dear in the nest? I get first dibs,” Seokjin says, wearing his drop-dead gorgeous brown sandstone suit. 

The hell?

When did you walk into a CEO/Hot Professor Fanfic?

You aren’t even walking; you are just lying there… they came to you.

“Sugar, you are starting to smell even sweeter. Are you gonna survive when all of us have to suit up for an interview or an awards show?” whispers Jungkook.

Looking quickly at him, you see his face is super close to yours, and your breath catches.

“Yeah, no, maybe. Do I have to be there? I don’t think… won’t I be in the way?” You say again, showing exactly how much you didn't learn much in college, which is why you left.

“Alright, that is enough from you, mister,” Yoongi instructs from the door. “Give my Princess room to breathe. Namjoon-ah, the car is ready to take you to your meeting.”

“Thank you, hyung. Y/n, I will see you tonight. The team will be here in about an hour. I told them to set up between the living room and your room,” Namjoon says.

“Have a good time with our Prime tonight, Y/n. I hope I get a glimpse of you before you go. I missed seeing you dressed up for Jin-hyung,” sighed Tae.

“Maybe one of your guards will grace us with a quick shot, with your permission of course, doll,” mentions Seokjin. 

“I wouldn’t mind that. Yoongi? Jimin? Would either of you be willing to do that for your mates?” You ask, looking between the two of them.

“We can try, but we can’t get too close. Maybe we can find a way to do it when you walk to the car,” thinks Jimin aloud. “The open-air will help our scent not cling to your dress.”

“Gotta get you used to all the camera flashes before you leave,” he teases. 

“Oh, that’s right, Y/n. PD-nim sent out the announcement that you would become our playmate this morning. Your Director thought it would be best to do it now since the contract is signed,” announced Namjoon.

“So I have to face the paparazzi, then,” you sigh. “There's no point in trying to skirt around it. All that would do is make me look weak and give you all a headache.”

“You will look amazing, my dear. Now, we better go. Yoongi, make sure she relaxes and enjoys her time getting ready,” says Seokjin, hooking his arm in Taehyungs and pulling him out the door. 

“Bye, guys. Love you all!” Namjoon says as he bids farewell. You sigh internally, rolling your eyes because you know Lily would faint if they ever heard Namjoon say that.

“Wait for me!” yells Hoseok, running down the hall. Practically skidding to a stop, he pops into the nesting room. 

Yeah, you have Jungkook’s answer. You won’t survive all of them in a suit. You might have gone up in flames after seeing Hoseok in a fire engine red suit.

“Hey, Doll. I just wanted to say have fun tonight. Namjoon-ah is more nervous than you are. I can promise you that! Bye.” And off he goes to join the others.

You end up staring at the space where he was, flashes of the boys going around in your head with snippets of things they said like “Love you (all)” and “Someone would warm you up.”

“I think we lost her,” Yoongi says, now standing a lot closer than before. When did he move?

“Sorry, I was just thinking of ways to… deal with tonight,” you lie, trying not to reveal your not-so-innocent thoughts.

“Ahuh, we are just gonna pretend to believe you on that one,” comments Jungkook as he takes in the sweet tang of your arousal.

Pushing Jungkook away, Yoongi offers to help you up, “Come on, I think you have time for a bath. The noonas have some way of washing your hair.”

Taking his hand, you stand up and follow him towards your room, “I already started a bath for you, but I think I may have to add more hot water. Namjoon asked me to use the vanilla bath bomb today. Is that okay with you?”

“Sure, vanilla or jasmine would be nice and calming, but can you put my hair in a bun so it can stay dry till the team gets here?”

Yoongi nods as you enter the bathroom. The scent of vanilla is light and pure, the tub is filled with bubbles, and some soft music is playing in the background. 

“I put a towel on the toilet again, but Namjoon’s bathrobe for you to use,” Yoongi points to the dark blue, almost purple silk robe hanging up. “As the Prime Alpha, he enjoys when his called upon to smell of themselves and him only.”

“So, Namjoon’s scent is vanilla?” you ask, your brain cutting through all the times you smelled vanilla. You could swear it was on everything, but it was never vanilla alone.

“Not exactly,” Yoongi hesitates to answer honestly because he cannot just say it is the pack's mate scent. If you knew that and could smell it, you were smart enough to know that 1 + 1 equals you’re their mate. 

“The vanilla compliments your natural scent, Princess, and it is considered a pack favorite,” offers Yoongi, hoping that he sounds convincing. 

Still, considering the different scents you have smelt with the pack, it would make sense that they all enjoyed it. You have also always loved vanilla-scented candles and flavored candies. 

Taking off your brace as Yoongi warms the bath, you ask, “So, I take it after I get in I won’t see anyone till you and Jimin send me off like parents with their kid going to prom?”

“Prom?” Yoongi questions as he dries off his hands. “I think that is an American thing. But, yes, you won’t see us much until then. If you need anything you can message the group chat or either of us individually.”

“Thank you,” you say as he excuses himself and closes the bathroom door.  

Stripping down and getting into the bath, you shake your head at the fact that here you are again, in the bath, thinking of how crazy things have been. This time, however, you are not as panicked. 

Well, sorta. 

The contract is signed because everyone wants you here. You want to be here. They feel something special is happening between the eight of you to the point of possible integration. 4/7 of them look damn good in a suit, and you are going to go to hell for your non-good girl thoughts. 

If they keep up the teasing, flirting, and various states of dress (Taehyung’s bare chest flashing through your head), you will have to find some personal alone time to release some of that particular tension. 

Finding that private time when Jungkook can apparently hear you roll over in bed is gonna be a problem. Maybe your bathtimes can be a bit more relaxing…

Oh, who the hell are you kidding? You haven’t been able to get off since, like ever. Toys used to work until you lost the baby. Now, nothing works, just like your ex used to say. 

You are broken and disgusting.

But the honest attentiveness toward you and the heated looks from a few of the Bangtan pack have lit something inside you that you thought had been long dead. 

Maybe you aren’t broken, and maybe you aren’t that disgusting.

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[prazinos]

Everyone loves a Ghost mechanic AU, but I raise you mechanic au where the roles are reversed.

Simon cursed as the engine to his truck made the third unpleasant grinding sound within the past half an hour. He didn’t exactly know a lot about cars, so he thought it would be better to just drive to a mechanic. And that’s exactly what he did. 

Pulling into the mechanic garage, Simon stepped out, brows furrowing when he can’t see anyone.

“Hey, hun. What can I do you for?” a voice rang out from behind him, and when Simon turned and looked down, he saw you. A woman who looked far too pretty to be working in a dingy mechanic shop. You were far more fit to be in SImon’s house, all barefoot and pregnant, greeting him with a kiss and a hug when he gets home from work. 

“Hello? You need something done on your truck?” you asked, snapping Simon out of his thoughts.

“Uh, engines making a sound. Like grinding.” Simon muttered, voice gruff “I'd fix it myself but all I know about cars is how to change a tire.”

You seemed satisfied with that answer, wiping your hands on a rag you had tucked into your overalls, before walking over to the front of the old beat up red truck, and popping open the hood.

Simon leaned against a concrete pillar, crossing his arms and staring at you. He didn’t trust easily.

After you’d looked at his car, you wiped your hands again, before going up to Simon. “It seems to be your bearings, sweet pea. Gonna be around four hundred, I can have it done in a few hours” you informed him. Simon couldn’t help the twinge of amusement at the nicknames you’re calling him.

Simon nodded silently, before pulling out his wallet.

“But,” you start, a coy smile on your lips “i’ll only charge you three hundred cause you’re cute”

The tips of Simon’s ears go red, something that happened whenever he was flustered. Been happening since he was a kid and Penny on the playground gave him a kiss on the cheek before running away. And judging by how your coy smile only grows wider, you notice his flustered give away as well.

“Right…thanks” Simon says, still reeling from your boldness. “You uh…You take care of my truck. Real attached to that thing” he finished.

“Oh don’t worry, by the time you come back to pick her up, she’ll be stripped and sold for whatever parts I can salvage.” you quipped, biting your lip as you grinned. The action made Simon swoon slightly.

Simon ended up leaving and going to a coffee shop nearby, talking to Price on the phone about an upcoming mission while he waited.

When Simon got back, he couldn’t help the twitch of his lips at the small amount of grease smeared on your cheek. You walked over, wiping your hands on your overalls this time, not the rag.

“All fixed up for you moonpie,” you grin, “I’m about to close up for the day so you best go on now.” you smile, holding the keys out to him.

Simon grunted and nodded, “thank you” he murmured, taking his keys from your hand, noting how much bigger his hand was compared to yours, before turning and getting in his truck, reversing out of the garage.

He grimaced slightly when the sun hit his eyes while he waited for an entrance to pull out onto the road, the sun was setting yet not all the way set, at that annoying angle which practically blinded him.

So, he quickly pressed the sunglasses compartment above him, Simon’s eyes widening for a moment when a piece of paper fell out alongside his sunglasses. 

“You’re sweet on the eyes, sweet pea. Call me sometime xoxo" with your phone number scribbled on it.

[yournowheregirl]

my mind’s been stuck on secret dolly parton fan southern!eddie and suddenly it sprouted 2k of fic so uhhh here ya go? more to follow! (unbeta’d btw) [part 2] [part 3] [part 4] [part 5] [part 6 + complete on ao3]

part 1: jolene

He might not look it, but deep down, hidden beneath the leather jackets and silver chains, Eddie Munson is a good old-fashioned southern boy. If you heard his uncle talk, you’d know he’s not from around Hawkins, but Eddie has mostly hidden his roots over the years. He had traded in his faded blue jeans for ripped black ones, his momma’s country vinyls were hidden away and replaced by heavy metal tapes and his drawl only comes out when he’s drunk out of his mind, calling everyone darlin’ and sweet pea. 

He misses Tennessee sometimes, though he doesn’t remember much. He misses the warmth of the people and the sunshine, he misses the cornbread his old neighbor Mrs. Carter used to make, but he mostly misses his mom. Misses her laugh and the way she tucked him into bed with a song every night, always with the same Dolly Parton song. 

Maybe that’s why he always reaches out to Dolly when he’s feeling down in the dumps. 

And all because of Steve motherfuckin’ Harrington.

He doesn’t really know when it started exactly. Maybe it was back in high school, when Steve just filled out those gym shorts way too nicely. Maybe it was that summer when Eddie kept wandering through Starcourt Mall, hoping to catch a glimpse of Steve in that damn sailor outfit. Maybe it was going through hell and back and somehow coming out alive, matching demobat scars and all. 

He doesn’t know when, all he knows he’s halfway in love with Steve and it’s frustrating to say the least.

Frustrating because he and Steve are somehow friends now and friends apparently talk each other’s ears off about their respective love lives. Including Steve’s endless supply of flirtations with girls at Family Video, just like today.

Steve’s been sweet talking some girl named Emily for the past twenty minutes now, really laying it on thick. Telling her how nice this shirt looks on her, how pretty her eyes look, how she really should find someone to watch Sixteen Candles with. Eddie turns away so that Steve won’t see the way his eyes roll at yet another one of Emily’s adorable little giggles. 

It’s not even justified, the nasty feeling in his stomach, the green snake of jealousy that slithers around his throat. It’s not like Steve is actually his. He’s just Eddie's friend. Eddie’s great, very straight, very much ladies’ man, friend. So Eddie keeps his mouth shut, grips his copy of The Thing a little tighter and pushes that feeling way deep down as the bell dings and Emily disappears through the door.

“Ha! Harrington’s back, baby!” Steve exclaims, pumping his fist in the air.

“What are we celebrating?” Eddie asks, even though he already knows the answer.

“Got a date this Friday.” Steve grins. He wiggles a piece of paper in between his fingers, probably with Emily’s phone number scribbled on it. 

“Nice.” Eddie says with a tight smile, hoping to God that Steve’s still too smitten to notice the way his body has gone all rigid. 

“Yeah, she’s pretty nice isn’t she?” Steve sighs happily. “Just hope she’s the one, y’know? I’m so tired of all those first dates, asking about each other’s siblings and favorite colors and I just… yeah, I just hope she’ll be the one.”

“Rooting for you, man.” Eddie says and oh my God, what kind of bro talk is that? Eddie wants to kick himself, but he just looks away instead, dropping the VHS on the counter.

“Thanks!” 

And he just looks so happy. His eyes glistening with hope, his lips (oh god his lips) turned into a victorious smile, his entire body just exuding confidence. Eddie really shouldn’t be mad at him, not when he looks like that.

Instead Eddie spends the entire drive back to the trailer park fuming and thinking of little miss ‘I-Hope-She’s-The-One’ Emily. Now, his momma raised him to be a gentleman but that vicious snake that made itself home in his stomach makes him want set fire to Emily’s stupidly perfect pleaded skirts. 

He’s so pissed off that he misses the exit that leads to Forest Hill, and instead he just keeps on driving. Past the luxurious villas, past the wide open fields, past the Leaving Hawkins sign. He doesn’t know where he’s going exactly, he just knows he has to leave. 

He only stops when it starts to turn dark outside and he spots a few warm lamps just on the side of the road. After closer inspection, it turns out to be a roadside bar, hidden away beneath some trees. Eddie’s stomach rumbles and he realizes that he hadn’t eaten since noon, so he parks the van and walks towards the bar, aptly named Off-Road.

Once Eddie steps inside, it’s like he’s suddenly back in Tennessee. He’s seeing men in flannel, shooting whiskey at the bar. Women in plaid dresses, dancing along to some honky-tonk song that’s playing on the radio. The wall decorated with all kinds of things that just scream Americana, old-faded photos of farms, a row of cowboy hats, an acoustic guitar on the wall.

He can’t believe what he's seeing, so he almost stumbles over his own feet as he makes his way to the bar.

“Hiya kid. What can I get ya?”

Eddie looks up to see a small, but buff woman standing behind the bar. Her silver hair is cropped short and pulled back by a red bandana and the tassels on her leather vest swivel as she cleans a glass with a dishrag.

“Uh, just a Coke, I guess?” Eddie says. “Do you also serve food?”

“Yeah, mac ’n cheese’s on the menu today.” The woman smiles, busying herself with finding a bottle of coke beneath the counter. “What’s your name kid? I’ve never seen you here before.”

“Eddie.”

“Nice to meet ya, Eddie. My name’s Pat.” Her voice is low and silky smooth, with the southern twang Eddie only hears when his uncle talks. “You from around here?”

“Hawkins.” Eddie nods. “But originally from Tennessee.”

Pat’s face lights up. “No way! Me too! Small world.”

“Yeah, it really is.” Eddie says. “Pat, can I ask… what is this place?”

“Oh this ol’ place?” Pat laughs. “This is just a lil’ home away from home. I’ve moved here for Tish, she’s the one in the green dress over there.” She waves towards the other side of the bar, where a woman with dark curls is scrubbing one of the tables. “But I’ve always missed home, y’know? So, we started this place a couple of years ago, 

“You and Tish are…” Eddie trails off, not sure if he’s put the right puzzle pieces together.

“Tish is my partner, yes.” Pat’s smile fades and gets replaced with a stern look. “You got a problem with that kid?”

“No!” Eddie says quickly, waving his hands in protest. “No, not at all. I’m… I’m also gay, y’know.”

“Tish!” Pat calls out, smiling when Tish looks up. “We got another one!”

“Stop adopting gay kids, Pat!” Tish calls back. “We’re running out of rooms!”

Eddie laughs. He’s gonna like it here.

-xxx-

After Pat’s absolutely heavenly mac ’n cheese, Eddie finds himself relax more and more and for the first time, he lets out his accent without any alcohol in his system. It’s not like anyone will make fun of him for it here, he thinks that Pat probably would encourage him to be as southern as he can be.

He chats with Pat and Tish and some of the other patrons as the time ticks by. Swapping stories about back down south, laughing at things the people here in Indiana just don’t understand, Eddie’s never felt more at home. 

Tish suddenly excuses herself as the bluegrass music on the speakers fades away. Eddie watches as she walks to the little podium in the far back of the bar and announces that the open mic night has begun and that anyone can join. An older man immediately jumps up and grabs the guitar off the wall and starts playing a song that Eddie vaguely remembers from back home.

“D’you play, kid?” Pat asks. “You look like you play.”

“Yeah, guitar.” Eddie replies. “Not like this though.”

“I figured.” Pat snorts. “You don’t really seem like the Willie Nelson type. But you’re welcome to step up and play us something.”

Eddie hesitates. Pat’s right, the music he normally plays doesn’t really fit in here. This is not the Hideout, this is not the place for screaming bloody murder about the injustices of the world and headbang while Gareth smashes the drums. 

Still, he’s feeling strangely drawn to the podium, especially when his mind provides him with a reminder why he drove away from Hawkins in the first place: Steve and perfect little Emily. And suddenly, he knows exactly what song to play. 

“Wish me luck.” Eddie grins at Pat as he stands up from his seat.

“Break a leg, Eddie.” Pat winks and shoots him an encouraging smile.

Eddie makes his way to the other side of the bar, patiently waiting until the older man finishes his song and whooping with excitement once he plays the final chord. The older man smiles at him, grateful, and hands the guitar over to him as Eddie sits down on the stool in front of the microphone.

“Uh, good evenin’ everyone.” Eddie says into the microphone. “It’s my first time here, actually and I, uh, I don’t even know if I can play this song, but let’s try, shall we?”

The room is eerily quiet as Eddie tries to remember the chords from so long ago, the chords his momma used to play on warm summer days in their backyard. 

“Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene… I’m beggin’ of ya, please don’t take my man.” 

The words feel foreign and yet strangely familiar in his mouth. It’s been so long since he heard this song, but the words just flow out of him easily

“He talks about you in his sleep and there’s nothing I can do to keep from cryin’ when he calls your name, Jolene.” Eddie’s voice is soft, softer than it’s ever been as he tries so hard to push away the images of Steve and Emily, happily together. “And I can easily understand how you could easily take my man. But you don’t know what he means to me, Jolene.”

It feels good, cathartic even, to sing this song. Maybe even better than screaming along to Metallica’s latest album. Not that he’ll ever admit that to anyone, but it’s the truth. There’s no other song right now that understands exactly what he’s going through, that says the things that he wants to say but can’t, not out loud anyway. 

“Please don’t take him even though you can…”

Eddie plays a few more chords until he finally lets the song fade out and the bar burst out into the applause. It’s not the biggest applause he’s ever had (apparently murder charges does wonders for forming a crowd at the Hideout), but it’s definitely in the top three of best post-performance feelings of his life. Maybe because these people just get him, maybe because he can just sing about his feelings for Steve out in the open and no one will judge him or ask any questions about it.

“You got some real talent, kid.” Pat nods as Eddie slides back onto his bar stool.“You’re welcome to come back and sing a little Dolly for us anytime.”

Eddie’s certain that he will.

[burningablaze]

Sero x Reader - The Coolest Of Quirks

Summary: Sero was not always the one to feel down about anything until you were the one to find out why

Lee: Sero

Ler: Reader

Words: 1,581

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

Everyone came back to the dorms from training at the end of the day. Mine, Kirishima, and Kaminari crashed on the sofa in the common room. “Oh man, Mr. Aizawa did not hold back on the training today,” Kaminari said with a groan. “I’m gonna get bruises on top of my bruises,” Kirishima said with a pained tone. “My body is gonna be so sore tomorrow,” Mina whined.

“Shut up ya bunch of weaklings!” Bakugou shouted.

“Hey, Todoroki, you wanna help me set dinner for tonight?” Midoriya asked. “Sure,” Todoroki answered and followed him to the kitchen.

“I’m going to bed early tonight, night everyone,” Sero said softly before heading to the elevator. Everyone else bid him goodnight and stayed downstairs to relax for the rest of the evening. You noticed that he looked a little upset as he walked and you couldn't help but feel worried about him, so you decided to follow him to his dorm room.

You knocked on his door and waited. “Who is it?” he asked. You opened the door and slowly peeked your head in. “Hey, love.” you stepped into his room and closed the door. “You okay?” you asked, your voice laced with concern.

Zero was sitting on the edge of his bed and looked up at you with his eyes slightly red-rimmed. “Oh, it's nothing really,” he said, trying to wave it off. “I’m just… I don't know, I’ve been feeling a little down lately. It's been a long day, you know?”

You nodded, understanding him. “I could tell something was bothering you. Do you want to talk about it?” you asked as you sat down next to him.

Sero sighed. “It's just… sometimes I feel like I’m not good enough, you know? Like I’m always falling behind everyone else or not living up to everyone’s expectations.” he ran a hand through his hair, a gesture you knew meant he was feeling stressed.

You frowned slightly. “Where is this coming from?” you asked. “From today's training, I feel like I’m just not improving as fast as the others. Everyone else seems to be picking things up so quickly and I’m still struggling to get the basics down.” he let out a frustrated sigh.

“Besides, my quirk is just… well, tape. It's not as cool as Bakugou’s or Midoriya’s.”

Sero’s words hung in the air and you could see the vulnerability and self-doubt in his expression. “Are you kidding me?” You’re practically Spider-Man but with tape and that's as cool as it's gonna get.” you exclaimed, giving him a playful nudge. “Don’t sell yourself short, Sero. Your quirk is awesome, and you’re doing an amazing job with it.”

He looked up at you with a soft smile then placed his arm over your shoulder to pull you closer to him and kissed your cheek. “Thanks, sweet pea. I guess I just needed a little reminder that I’m not alone in this. It's easy to get caught up in comparing myself to everyone else, but you’re right - I need to focus on my progress.”

You nuzzled your face against his. “Exactly. And remember, I’m always here if you need someone to talk to, okay? We’re in this together. You and me together, baby.” you smiled warmly at him then gently kissed his lips. “God, I love the way you support me like no other. You just so happen to form words in that little brain of yours.”

You chuckled. “I just know how to get through to you.” you have him a gentle poke on his side.

He chuckled and tried to hold back a squeal. He was extremely ticklish, especially on his sides and even your poking him made him almost let loose but he tried to hold it in.

“Don’t do that, you know I’m sensitive there!”

You smiled and kept poking him. “Oh, I know. I just like seeing you smile and hearing your cute laugh.”

He started to laugh a bit and held your wrists to stop you from poking him more. “Hey, stohohohohohohop that!” I'm n-nohohohohohot a toy you can just poke for your amusement!” he said while trying to hold back his giggles.

“Oh, come on! Just laugh a little for me.” you leaned forward to bury your face in his neck and smothered his neck with kisses.

He let out a small gasp, feeling your lips attack his neck and his grip on your wrists loosened. He tried to hold his laughs in but he couldn't fight the sensation. He started laughing louder and let go of your wrists. “Hehehehehehey, t-thahahahahats cheating! Ahahahahahahaha!”

“Let me hear your giggles.” your voice muffled against his skin then blew a raspberry on his neck. You pushed him back on the bed and tickled his sides.

“W-wait, nohohohohohoho s-stohohohop! Hahahahahahahahahaha!” he said, trying to push you off of him while laughing.

“You’re so cute when you laugh.” you blew more raspberries and squeezed his sides.

He squirmed around on the bed, his body trying to get away from your tickling but to no avail, and his laughing grew louder as you tickled him more.

“I know I’m c-cuhuhuhuhute but stop t-tickling mehehehehehe plehehehease! Ahahahahahahahahaha!”

“Oh look, you admit something! I wonder what else you can admit.” you smiled and dug your fingers in his sides.

The feeling of your fingers digging into his sides made him laugh even harder and his body jerked from side to side. “St-stohohohohohop! I’ll-I’ll say anything you wahahahahahant!”

You stopped tickling him for a moment. “Alright, what else can you admit to?”

He caught his breath as he calmed down once you stopped tickling him. He panted as he tried to regain his breath before making eye contact with you and letting out a sigh. “Okay, you win, what do you want me to say?”

You smiled softly at him. “I want you to admit that you're doing your best. I want you to admit you are good enough. I want you to admit that you don't need to compare your quirk with anyone else, and you have one of the best quirks.”

He took a moment to take in what you had said. It took a second before he realized you were having him confess his insecurities and let out a sigh before averting his eyes from you. “I-I… I am doing my best… I-I don’t need to compare my quirk with everyone else… I-” he paused a bit before letting out another sigh. “I’m good enough.”

You placed your hand on his cheek and rubbed your thumb against his skin. “I just want you to be who you are, baby.”

He felt your hand rest against his cheek and he leaned into it. He closed his eyes relaxed under your touch, and smiled a bit at your words. “I know I just - sometimes I can’t help thinking I’m not as good as everyone else… it's my stupid insecurities…”

“And hey, I said I would be with you every step of the way, okay?”

He nodded his head a bit and opened his eyes to look at you and he smiled at you. “Y-yeah… your right… I know I can rely on you when I’m feeling down, you always know what to say to make me feel better.”

You smiled warmly. “Good.” you leaned down to kiss his lips softly. “Now let's see if I can hear your cute laughs again,” you smirked then trailed your fingers up and down his sides.

Sero smiled a bit when you kissed him but that smile quickly turned into laughs as you started tickling his sides again. “Hahahahahahahahahaha st-stohohohohohop!” he tried to grab your wrists to stop your hands from attacking his sides but he couldn't stop laughing.

You chuckled at his squirming. “Come on, baby! Not even a little giggle?”

His laugh grew louder as your fingers tickled his sides and his body jerked around on the bed. His stomach started to hurt from all the laughing. “I-I’m already g-giggling! Hahahahahahahahahaha! Have mercy on me p-plehehehehehease!”

You smiled then stopped. “Alright, alright.” you brushed his hair out of his face.

He breathed a sigh of relief when you stopped. His laughs slowly came to a stop and his body went limp on the bed as he tried to catch his breath. “I t-think that’s enough tickling for one day, babe…”

“I think so too.” you kissed his forehead. “I love you, Sero.”

He smiled when you kissed his forehead and he looked up at you with a loving, yet slightly cheeky, gaze. “I love you too.”

He pulled you on top of him, wrapping his arms around you and giving your head a few kisses. “Mmm, I missed this, just us spending time together and goofing around.”

You smiled. “Me too.”

He tightened his grip on you a bit and he pulled you closer, resting his head on your shoulder. He closed his eyes and took in the moment of having you close to him. “Can we stay like this just a bit longer? I want to hold you a little longer.”

“I don’t mind. It feels nice,” you said softly.

He nodded his head a bit and pulled you closer until you were almost on top of him. He started running his hand through your hair as he held you there. He held you closely and let himself relax, his eyes stayed closed as he just focused on the feeling of you in his arms.

[whatsnewalycat]

Psychomanteum / Chapter 15

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x OFC Louella (2nd POV)

Chapter 15: The Widow

Chapter Summary: Contemplation.

Word Count: 7.6k+

Content / Warnings: alternating pov, suicidal thoughts and planning, intrusive thoughts, grief, swearing, alcohol use, uncertainty, parker, lotta yearning and self-reflection, angst, paranormal/spooky elements, food

Notes: Chapter title from “The Widow" by The Mars Volta. This is the peak of angst in this story, I promise. Pleaaaaaase be mindful of the trigger warnings above. Big big thanks to @frannyzooey for proofreading 🖤✨ OK THANKS FOR READING YALL LOVE U SORRY IF ITS A BUMMER.

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As far back as you can remember, you hated the dark. 

The uncertainty of what it contained would keep you up for hours in your childhood bedroom. 

Your mind ran rampant, imagining all kinds of insidious creatures lurking in the shadows. Beneath your bed, in the corners, behind your closet door, outside your window. Watching, waiting for you to fall asleep. 

At some point you started sleeping with the lights on. Your parents got you a nightlight in an attempt to curtail this behavior, but it wasn’t enough. There were still shadows. You were still cloaked in darkness with the monsters. All this did was begin a new ritual, where you waited until they went to bed before turning on the lights. 

One night, after you heard your parents’ bedroom door click shut, you scurried over to the light switch and flipped it up. The overhead light came to life, flooding the room in safety. Relief.  

By the time you crawled back into bed, your dad opened the door and peeked into the room. He looked between you and the overhead light, sighing, “Louella, we talked about this.” 

“Don’t turn the light off.” 

“Why not?”

Even then it felt silly. The answer stuck to the inside of your throat, hot and buzzing. Instead of letting it out, you burrowed beneath the covers and curled up into yourself. 

The floorboards creaked as your dad made his way across the room. He sat on the edge of your mattress and rubbed your back, comforting you. 

“Sweet pea,” he cooed, peeling back your Lion King comforter to expose your face, “It’s not good for you to sleep with the lights on all the time.” 

At this, you pouted at your blanket, fiddling with the frayed edges. 

“The dark is scary, isn’t it?”

You nodded. 

“What’s so scary about it?”

You shrugged. 

He hummed in acknowledgment, then glanced around the room, “I’ll let you in on a secret. Most everyone is afraid of the dark at some point or another. You know why?” 

Another shrug. 

“In the light, we have certainty. We can look over in that corner and see with our own eyes there’s no boogeyman there. It’s just a corner. Done deal. The dark… that’s trickier, isn’t it?” 

You nodded, trying to decide whether or not to tell him about the monsters you believed would manifest in the black abyss and swallow you whole. 

“You’re safe here, though. I promise. It’s just you in here. There’s nothing hiding in the dark. The corner is just a corner. All that’s under your bed is dust. In your closet, it’s just clothes.” 

“Can you check?” 

He chuckled, but granted your request, lowering himself to the ground to peek under your bed, telling you, “Nothing under here,” then climbed to his feet and strode over to your closet, pulling the door wide open so you could see the proof yourself. 

“All clear,” he said as he closed it and returned to your bedside, “Does that help?”

You nodded, casting your gaze down to your lap. A lingering feeling of dread still sat heavy in your stomach. His gaze stayed trained on you, obviously unconvinced. 

Eventually you asked, “But what if we just don’t see it now? What if it sneaks?”

Your voice felt tiny, meek. 

His shoulders deflated with a sigh. He scooted closer and petted your hair, holding eye contact when he countered, “Your brain is trickier than the dark ever will be. It makes you see things that aren’t there. Unless you believe it’s safe, you’ll never be able to rest.” 

He was right, you suppose. 

Rest only really found you when you trusted the lights’ promise that nothing would hurt you when it vanished. Even when the light broke its promise. Even when your dad went to the ER and returned in a box.

You tried to believe that your family would live on without him. That he would still somehow keep you safe. 

But he didn’t. 

Neither did your mother. 

Your mother cut the power and made you fend for yourself.

You learned that the only way to ensure nothing would hurt you was to make sure the room was vacant before deadbolting the door. To lock the windows and draw the blinds. You sharpened your teeth into fangs. You developed night vision and grew claws, and you hid so well you thought nothing could find you. 

Sure, it was dark. 

But the abyss had only one occupant, you knew that as fact. 

Sure, your skin ached to feel the sunlight. 

But you were safe. 

You’re not sure when it happened, but sooner or later, you swore you could see shapes shifting in the pitch black. When you laid in bed at night, you could hear something in the walls. The faint, dry scratch of nails on plaster. 

It sneaks. 

The thing became clearer over time. Bloated, purpled skin. Limbs that popped and groaned when it crept around just beyond your reach. It carried the stench of rot, putrid and sulphuric. 

Deep down in your guts, you understood the horrible truth. 

It was you. 

A part of you, anyway. Something that lived and died inside you, stillborn into the darkness just to haunt you. 

Then there was Ethan. 

Brash and charming, he took a sledgehammer to your walls and yanked you from your hiding place. Sunshine poured into the dark, dank room, soaking you in brightness. 

At first you were terrified. 

It overwhelmed your senses. 

Your eyes, having long forgotten how to operate in the light, burned in reaction. You clamped them closed for fear of going blind. It felt so warm you thought you might melt. Ethan’s honeyed words seemed like loudspeakers compared to the quiet echo of your breathing. To the faint, hoarse whisper of your monster. 

It took some time to acclimate to this long-forgotten brightness. But once you did, it felt incredible. You couldn’t believe you hid from it for so long. 

Together, you understood that with light, comes shadows. He had a monster who crept after nightfall, too. Sometimes you’d wake to the soft caress of its nails on your cheek, to his sour, putrid breath gurgling in your ear, “I will be the death of you,” like a promise. 

You came to trust its keeper, though. You believed it wouldn’t tear you apart, like yours wouldn’t Ethan.  

That is the promise of love, after all, isn’t it? 

To cherish one’s light so much that you’ll endure their dark? To love even the most haunted, grotesque parts of someone? Even their monsters? Even their ghosts? 

To trust that you can rest your weary bones in the dark without it destroying you? 

You believed this for so long. Bright years filled with joy and laughter and love, where you felt alive and trusted him. In those years, you forgot a very important fact:

 It sneaks. 

The fireplace lets out a sharp POP, drawing your attention away from the pitch black window. 

A smoldering log at the bottom of the hearth collapses. The fire shifts, birthing fresh flames that breathe hot against your cheeks. 

You pull the quilt snug around your supine body and huddle deeper into the couch, into the warmth of your body heat. 

When you called your mother-in-law yesterday and explained what was happening, that you needed a place to stay for a few days while you figure out what to do, she graciously granted your request to use their cabin out in the Sierra Nevada foothills, but warned you the place was winterized and had no central heating. 

“I don’t know what condition it’s in, nobody’s been out there since August. There’s quite a bit of firewood by the fireplace and out by the woodshed, use as much as you need. Electricity is on, but no internet and cell service is shoddy. You’ll need to get the water going, too—you know, why don’t you give me or Adam a call once you’re out there, we can walk you through it.” 

“Is there a landline? I don’t have my phone.” 

“Sure is.” 

“Ok, I’ll call you when I get there.” 

“Stop and get some groceries in town, too, there’s that grocery store—”

“Yeah, I remember,” you interrupted, eyes darting to the departures board, “I have to go, my bus is gonna be here soon. Thank you so much, Sarah.”

You could feel it coming within one second of the quiet hesitation that followed. 

“Lou, I just want to make sure…” 

Don’t ask. Please don’t ask. 

“Are you ok, honey?”

Fuck. 

Your face crumbled. Emotion clogged your throat. Tingles worked up your chest, behind your eyes, and you squeezed them shut to suffocate the tears. 

“Yeah,” you managed to tell her, your voice wavering with bullshit, “I just, um… I just need a few days. To get myself together, you know.” 

“Alright. Well, will you call me when you get there?”

“Yep,” you sniffled, “Talk to you then, bye.” 

Before she could respond, you returned the receiver to its cradle, ending the call, then took a moment to gather yourself before picking your toppled-over suitcase up off the ground and finding your bus.

The ride to Fresno was long. You spent most of it staring out the window, not really looking at anything in particular, just lost in your noisy head. 

At the Fresno Bus Station, you talked to three different cab drivers before finding one who agreed to bring you all the way out here. 

He made a few attempts at small talk, asking how your day was going and if you were on vacation and so on, but quickly picked up on your not-so-chatty vibes and let the cab go quiet. 

As he drove on, palm trees were replaced by threadbare ash trees, soon joined by evergreens. The hills became steeper. Swathes of rock broke through the earth’s soft surface, more and more with each mile. 

You asked him to stop in the town closest to your in-laws’ cabin. He kept the meter running while you bought a meager supply of groceries, figuring you only needed a few days worth, if that. 

Then the yellow taxi cab then drove deep into the forest, turning off on a low-maintenance dirt road that made the car jostle and rumble. 

When you came around a curve, and the mailbox labeled FRIEDMAN came into view, you instructed him to drop you off there. 

“Are you sure? I can take you down the driveway, no problem,” he insisted. 

You could have explained that the gravel driveway was in poor condition and you didn’t want him to break down or something. Imagine that. Drive a girl to the middle of a goddamn forest and wind up getting stuck out there. What a fucking nightmare. For both of you, really. 

“I’m sure,” you said, flashing him a weak smile as you handed him the remaining money from your wallet, “Thank you, though. I appreciate it.”

His eyebrows shot up in surprise when he looked down at the bundle of cash, but he took it, giving you a nod of thanks. 

“Just, um…” you bit the inside of your cheek and shrugged, looping plastic grocery bags around your wrists, “If anyone comes around asking if you saw me, could you maybe… maybe you could say no?” 

“Yes ma’am,” he nodded again, studying you for a moment before turning to open his door, “Let me get your bag for you.” 

He pulled your shitty suitcase from the trunk and handed it to you. Before returning to the driver’s seat to begin his voyage home, he paused for a few seconds, then looked at you. 

“Excuse me for asking, ma’am, but are you… well, are you… safe? Do you need me to contact anyone?”

“No.” 

The word came out sharp and final. It felt harsh leaving your lips, so you added, “I mean, you don’t need to contact anyone. I am, uhhh… cool as a cucumber. Safe… as a lock. Thanks, though.” 

You tried your hardest to give him a reassuring smile. He didn’t look like he bought it, but got in his taxi and left. 

From here, you followed the driveway into a tunnel carved out from the trees. 

The air was crisp and clear and everything seemed quiet except for the sound of you huffing and puffing down the path, leaves crunching under your feet, plastic bags rustling, your suitcase flopping around behind you like a defiant animal on a leash, fighting against each step. 

Fucking exhausting. 

About halfway, you spotted a flat boulder peeking out from the earth a few strides into the forest. You dropped your suitcase, shaking the plastic bags from your wrists, and blundered through the trees towards it. Your rubber legs ached with relief when you sat down criss-cross applesauce on the cool stone. Catching your breath, you leaned back and tilted your face up towards the canopy. A breeze rattled through the pines and ashes and cooled your cheeks. 

You spent some time here, stretched out on the boulder, admiring the contrast of the dark, rheumatic branches stretched out towards the powder-blue sky. When your labored breathing calmed, the quiet sounds of the forest started to come into focus. Leaves rustling. Birds warbling. The whistle of wind.

It felt nice. 

Peaceful.

Eventually, you heaved yourself to your feet and resumed your journey. You walked and walked, legs and wrists and arms aching, body and mind sapped of energy, until the tree line opened up into a clearing. 

The cabin came into view, and a bone-deep sense of nostalgia struck you. 

You remembered the first time Ethan brought you here, the summer after you started dating. Everything seemed to pulse with life. The trees, glowing green with leaves. The roaring river in the background. Ethan. The future, in general. 

What’s the word for the kind of nostalgia that guts you? The kind that feels like a 30-pound weight in your stomach? The kind that shreds your heart to pieces in your chest? 

That’s exactly what you felt when you saw the cabin. 

It looked cold. Dead. 

The inside felt no different. Everything was dark. Cool, still air bit your cheeks. Canvas was draped over all the furniture. It smelled of dust and damp and better times. 

You dropped your belongings to the entryway floor, collapsing in a heap among them, then cried your eyes dry.

Once you gathered yourself, you found the phone to call Sarah. 

She walked you through the ins-and-outs of making the cabin habitable. How to turn the water back on and get the fireplace going. Gave you permission to use whatever you want or need… which, so far, is just some firewood, a quilt from the cedar linen closet, and this couch. 

You blink your bleary eyes a few times, before looking back to the window. The world outside has lightened. Frosted trees stand out in the rich, Neptunian veil of morning, every branch appearing lacy and crystalline, important and beautiful. 

Have I slept? Or did I sit here all night, staring into the abyss?

“Fuck it,” you sigh to yourself as you sit upright, “Might as well make some coffee.” 

Ding

The elevator doors slide open.

Dieter follows Parker onto the fifth floor hallway of your apartment building. 

As he walks down the familiar hallway like he has so many times before, a guttural, foreboding feeling builds in his veins. 

The sensation is unbelievably heavy, but hollow. Knight’s armor. A church bell. The barrel of a gun. 

It reminds Dieter of the first time he came here, when he sensed Ethan’s presence on the other side of that door. 

“Hopefully the landlord didn’t change the locks,” Parker says as he flips through his keychain, isolating one labeled LOU. The key slides in without protest. Parker pushes the door open and enters the apartment, Dieter hot on his heels.  

When Parker flips the light on, the state of your apartment makes Dieter’s stomach drop. 

Ransacked is the first word that comes to mind. 

Every drawer and cupboard in your kitchen sits ajar, their contents disorganized or spread across the countertop. The couch and chair cushions are all discombobulated. Dirt tracks dried into the white carpet trace the heavy flow of boots that moved in and out of the apartment. It looks like every surface of the place has been perverted. 

Dieter crouches down to set an overturned cubby upright, shoving a pile of your hats and scarves and gloves back into their rightful place, muttering, “Fucking pigs.”

A leopard print pattern catches his eye, and he plucks out a scarf, draping it around his neck before returning the container to its home. 

“Pigs is right,” Parker snorts, slamming closed cupboards and drawers, “This place is a fuckin’ stye. I’m glad she’s not here to see this.”

Dieter rubs the soft fabric between his fingers and brings it to his nose, inhaling your scent. A freshly-baked smell that prods his tender heart. He stands and starts towards the kitchen, but freezes when he notices the door to Ethan’s room is open. His eyes flick from Parker, totally preoccupied with reassembling the kitchen, then back to the doorway. 

Curiosity gnaws at his insides. 

He approaches it, trying to act casual despite his pounding heart. At the threshold, he pauses to peak inside, not entirely surprised to see the room exactly as he pictured it. 

Well, mostly, anyway. 

No file cabinet or deep freezer, but open spaces where he thought they’d be. Taken as evidence, probably. Empty file folders are strewn across the desk. But the navy blue walls, the hardwood floor, the mirrors… all there. 

That horrible, palpable emptiness, like loss on loss on loss… that’s there, too. 

He glances over his shoulder at Parker, still distracted, then looks back into the room. When he steps through the doorway, a rush of adrenaline spikes his pulse. 

Why are you here?

Dieter cautiously wanders over to the desk and starts picking up the empty file folders, halting when he finds a sketchpad beneath one. 

He flips through the book of abstract black-ink illustrations. Some of them scribbles, some exquisite, some in-between. All of them saturated with emotion. Hopelessness. Guilt. Anger. Grief. Frustration. Every time he turns a page, a new sensation strikes him. Shame. Resentment. Suspicion. A whole dictionary of dark emotions. 

Scattered throughout, though, he finds a few that feel… not lighter, per se, but different. They feature negative space and soft curves. Clean lines and chaos. Love. 

They’re you. 

Of course they’re you, love. Of course you were his light in the darkness. A brightness carved out of soot and rot. 

A fond smile creeps across his lips. 

For reasons he can’t quite explain, Dieter looks to one of the mirrors and asks, “Can I take this with me? To give to her?” 

Yeah, sure. 

“Thanks,” he nods and tucks the book into his coat pocket, glancing over his shoulder before quietly inquiring, “Any chance you know where she is?”

Not here.

“Yeah, no shit,” Dieter thinks. He jumps a little when he hears the response crystal clear in his head. 

Well then why the fuck’re you here? You’re wasting time. 

“Me? What about you? Didn’t you move on from this place?”

After this, Ethan goes quiet. 

Dieter shrugs and looks away from the mirror to study the framed photos on the wall. Photos of Ethan with, who Dieter assumes are, his kids. None of them recent. The vast majority of the pictures feature you. 

You and Ethan kissing on your wedding day. The two of you posing somewhere with mountains in the background, drinking on a beach, dancing at a party. Each one depicts big, genuine smiles. The adoration you had for each other is evident. 

As the successor to your heart, maybe he should feel a twinge of jealousy, but he doesn’t. He actually finds it sweet. It fills him with warmth to know you spent a long while being well-loved. 

The wall of photos displays relics from Ethan’s youth, too. 

Graduation photos, family vacations, a bar mitzvah. Dieter picks up on something. A distinct before and after. He stops on a picture of Ethan as a child, hugging a younger boy—his brother, Benji—by a lake, and it starts to come together. Although he can’t quite pinpoint the defining line, it splits him in two and fractures into shards. 

An icy cold rush overtakes his body, like the word gave out from under him and he’s suddenly submerged in freezing water. He can’t breathe. He can’t scream. Feral, panicked energy pulses through his veins. His concrete limbs can’t move, paralyzed as he sinks, deeper, deeper, deeper…

Dieter returns to himself with a jolt, gasping for air. 

He takes a step back and slumps over, pressing his palms into his knees as he pants, “What the fuck, man? What the fuck?” 

You need to find her before it’s too late. 

Red bubbles up his chest.

“You think I don’t fucking know that?” he sits up, jaw clenched, fists balled, and steps into the through-line of the mirrors. They reflect off one another to form a long, curved tunnel that stretches out on either side of him. Dieter looks from one mirror, to the other, seeing his image captured within each infinite layer. 

“Fuck you, man,” he seethes, shaking his head, “You fucking did this, you know that? Fucking piece of shit. I’m fucking trying, ok?” 

The last sentence comes out hoarse and thick. Heat works up his throat and his vision blurs with tears. 

“Whoa—hey, Dieter,” Parker runs into the room, all wide-eyed and searching Dieter’s face, “What’s wrong?” 

A sob heaves his shoulders. He hangs his head, shaking it from side-to-side, “I’m trying, Parker.” 

“I know, baby, I know,” he coos, pulling Dieter into a hug, reassuring him, “We’re gonna find her.” 

“What if we don’t?”

“We will. Keep that faith, papi. We will.” 

Dieter buries his face in Parker’s bony shoulder, releasing the pent-up worry and guilt festering infectious in his chest for the past day. Parker pets his hair and rocks him back and forth, letting out a few of his own sniffles alongside Dieter’s. 

When their crying starts to peter out, Parker gives him one more squeeze and pulls back, asking, “You wanna get out of here? This place is a fucking mess, and we gotta catch that flight soon anyway.“

“Can I look in her room first?” 

Parker’s eyebrows knit together over bloodshot eyes, and he nods, patting his friend on the shoulder before stepping aside. 

Dieter approaches your bedroom cautiously. Paranoid thoughts circulate in his brain, all those what-ifs and delusions of tragedy. What if he finds you here, cold and lifeless? What if you’re dead somewhere while he pokes around your apartment, looking for clues? Is he doing enough? Could he do more? 

But when the door groans on its hinges as he pushes it open, and he sets foot inside your bedroom, the impending doom percolating in his veins drains from him almost instantly. Many of your things have been rifled through, like the rest of your apartment, but the place holds an air of serenity. 

It feels warm and safe. 

It feels like you. 

Flipping the light on, he closes the door behind him, then walks over to your bed and crawls under the covers, burying himself beneath them. 

The sheets still carry a faint whiff of sex and sleep from before the two of you embarked for LA. His lungs expand with a deep, wide breath. Eyes drifting closed, he thinks of you. How you’re feeling. Where you are. What you’re doing. 

He picks up the bite of a chilled breeze. The steady babble of a river. Warm hands. Burnt tongue. Coffee, bitter and black. 

The signal drops. 

Not much, but enough for him to know you’re not in immediate danger, which brings him some solace. 

Still under the blankets, he pulls out his phone and dials your number. It rings and rings until your voicemail picks up. 

“Hey, this is Louella, sorry I missed you. Leave me a message and I’ll call you back, thanks.” 

“Hey doll, it’s me. I’m at your apartment. It’s a fucking mess. Parker and I stopped by before going back to LA. He’s coming with me to help… well, to help find you. Anyway. I’m in your bed. It still smells like us. It was hard for me to fall asleep last night without you. Waking up without you is… it’s hell. I don’t know. I miss you, Lua. It’s been one fucking day and I miss you more than I’ve ever missed anyone in my life. I love you. I’ll call you when I get back.” 

Despite your lack of sleep, you managed to make this morning a productive one. 

You removed the slip-cases from the furniture and dusted, then forced yourself to eat a halfway decent breakfast of buttered toast and scrambled eggs. After washing the dishes, you soaked in the tub for a while, staring up at the wood-paneled bathroom ceiling as you contemplated what to do with yourself, both in the short-term context and the long-term. 

While drying off, you noticed the bright, mid-day sun shining down into the valley, making everything glow golden. It looked inviting. 

You dug through your suitcase, sifting through the clothing you packed with a warmer climate in mind. Shorts. Dresses. Bikinis. The best you could do was a sweater and some pajama bottoms. 

Down by the riverbank, you found this creaky wooden porch swing and settled on which to sit and ponder. 

You smooth the tip of your finger along the dewy lip of the mug, breaking up a curl of steam with each lazy revolution around its circumference. 

Today is the shortest day of the year. 

The winter solstice. 

Every once in a while, wind rolls down off the snowy tips of the Sierra Nevadas and meets the warmth of the California sun. The creaky wooden bench sits square in the middle of these contradictory weather conditions. Hot and cold. Dry and damp. Constantly churning, waxing and waning from one state to another. 

A crisp gust of wind from upriver cuts through the sun-baked pocket of air where you’re seated. You huddle into your jacket and bring the steaming mug to your lips, hissing when the black coffee scorches your tongue. 

The thought of Dieter shoots through you like a bullet. 

You picture him beneath the covers of your bed, fully clothed in his furry winter jacket, wearing your scarf, eyes clenched shut, wishing you would come out of hiding because it’s safe now. 

It rattles you. 

An infinite number of memories and worries and hopes and what-ifs flood your mushy, sleep deprived brain. They all muddle together in an incomprehensible cluster fuck that sets your blood ablaze and makes your ears ring. Your body contracts, squeezing a sob from deep within your chest. 

Fuck. 

Every single ounce of you aches to see him. To smell him. To feel his arms wrapped around you and hear his voice murmuring honeyed affirmations in your ear, telling you he loves you and understands why you had to leave. 

You pray he understands that you didn’t want to. Of fucking course you didn’t want to. You had to. For his sake and for yours. 

During the FaceTime call with Parker, when you first saw the cops outside your building, then David Alterman, you could only see two paths forward: Dieter would choose you or his career. 

Would he have chosen you? Maybe, but it would have been foolish. 

He would have to support you through whatever punishment the state of New York has queued up against you—prison, probably—on top of dealing with the fallout. The public backlash, the halt of money flow, not to mention the loss of his career, which means more to him than public opinion or money. In his own words, acting is his fucking purpose in life. 

And for what? An incarcerated girlfriend? Even if you put the issue of your pending criminal charges aside, you still wouldn’t be worth that loss. 

It would be gradual, but eventually he would feel it. 

It sneaks. 

He would come to resent you, and you wouldn’t be able to fault him one bit. 

Would he have chosen his career? Maybe, but it would ruin you both. 

If he chose to break off your relationship in order to salvage his career, you would have to hear him say it. You would have to know, with certainty, that you take second place in his heart. Maybe this is a selfish notion, this desire to be his number one priority. If he didn’t choose his wife over his career, why the fuck would he choose you?

Not only that, but if he chose this path, he would have to shoulder the hardship of two broken hearts. You know he loves you. You do. Ending your relationship would devastate him. He would be plagued with guilt and shame and regret, all the same as if he chose you to begin with. 

It seemed cruel to force him to make this impossible choice. No matter what he did, it would be wrong, and he would carry the burden.

This is when you saw the third path branch out before you. 

The one where you could sneak out before the sun rises, dragging your monster by its tether behind you. Where you could lock yourself away in a boarded-up room and wait for her to take you. You, not him. 

You would rather absorb the blame, from him and everyone else, a million times over than curse him with the responsibility of this dissolution.  

This is a mercy kill. 

An act of love. 

It may not seem like it to anyone else, but really, it is. 

This thought brings you some solace. 

Another gust of wind blows shivers down your spine. You bring the mug to your lips to test the coffee’s temperature, finding it tepid, but drink it anyway. 

Dieter wasn’t sure what to expect when he came home. 

Worst case scenario, he imagined cops waiting to arrest him for bribing an elected official or tell him you turned up dead. Best case, he imagined opening the door to find you there. Problem solved. Happily ever after. He would kiss you breathless and never let you doubt your station in his life again. 

What was most likely, though—and what he found—was something in the wide gray area between his paranoia and hopeless romanticism. 

Lincoln was sprawled out on the couch, scrolling through TikTok on his phone, while Darlene sat at the dining room table, typing away on her laptop. 

Although he tried to keep an open mind the whole way here, he couldn’t help but be disappointed. Here he was, exhaustion burning his bones to dust, expecting some kind of a celebration, only to find out this was a checkpoint, not a finish line. 

Lincoln and Darlene both perk up at the sound of the door opening. They both rise from their respective places to greet Dieter and Parker. 

“Hey, welcome back!” Lincoln calls as he grabs Dieter’s suitcase, “How was your flight?”

“Fine,” he grunts, then nods to Parker, “This is Parker. Parker, this is my PA Lincoln and my publicist Darlene.” 

“Former publicist,” Darlene corrects, shaking Parker’s hand, “Nice to meet you.” 

Parker gives her a polite smile and a nod to her and Lincoln and tells them, “Thanks for your help.” 

“Want me to take your suitcase?” Lincoln asks Parker, dark blonde eye brows raised in expectation. 

“I’ve got it, love,” Parker waves him off with a dismissive hand, then turns to Dieter, “Where do you want me?” 

Before he can answer, Lincoln cuts in, “Here, I’ll show you to the open guest room.” 

A small smirk tugs at the corner of Parker’s mouth. He shrugs, “Lead the way, pretty boy.” 

Even in the dim illumination of the waning daylight, Dieter sees Lincoln’s cheeks flush pink. He grins and starts off down the hall. Before following, Parker looks at Dieter, raising a mischievous brow as he glances between him and Lincoln, mouthing, “Cute.” 

“Any updates?” Dieter asks Darlene as he slides off his crocs and starts towards the kitchen. 

“Well,” she sighs, crossing her arms, tilting her head to one side, “There has been progress.” 

The way she says it sounds like the beginning of bad news. He pauses his search for food and frowns at her. Static rises in his throat. 

“And?”

She walks to the dining room table to grab her notebook, flipping back a few pages as she approaches the kitchen island and leans against it. 

“So, I was able to trace her steps to a transit station in Fresno. I went up there yesterday and talked to security. Found out she took a cab from there, but the cab company won’t disclose where they dropped her. The driver reported that she seemed… off. Said she seemed scared and was very secretive, like she was in danger or something. He thought maybe she was running from a domestic abuse situation, and requested that the company not disclose her location.” 

Dieter gapes at this, unable to formulate words. She continues. 

“She talked a few other cab drivers before this one, so I talked to them. They told me she didn’t give them an address, just said it was about sixty miles away, up in the foothills. But that’s… that’s all I was able to get. The trail runs cold there.” 

“Can’t we throw some cash at the cabbie who drove her? Whatever it costs, I’ll pay it, I don’t care—” 

“I tried,” she shook her head, throwing her hands up at her sides, “I told them to name their price, they said it wasn’t about money, it was about safety.” 

Heat spikes his blood, overwhelming him with nervous energy that sets him into motion, pacing back and forth, running his fingers through his hair, rubbing his neck, clenching his jaw. 

“What the fuck do we do now?”

“Do you know if she has any family or friends in that area? Maybe she mentioned something in passing—” 

“No, of course she didn’t,” he scoffs. 

Darlene doesn’t say anything. Her hazel eyes follow him from side-to-side. 

“I know her family is from Ohio, her friends are from New York. Anything else is a fucking mystery to me,” he shakes his head and stops pacing to holler, “PARKER, get in here!”

A few seconds later, he hears footfalls in the hallway, then Parker rounds the corner, blinking at him, “I know you didn’t just call for me like a fuckin’ dog.”

“Does Lua know anyone out by Fresno? In the mountains?” Darlene asks him. 

Parker frowns as he thinks about this, shaking his head, “I don’t think so.”

“Distant relatives, old friends,” Darlene glances at Dieter, “Exes, anything like that?”

Dieter glares at her, nostrils flaring, to which she defends, “We have to cast a wide net, I’m just asking.” 

Parker shakes his head again, “No. 

“What about Ethan’s family?” 

His face stays fixed in a searching expression. No glint of recognition. 

Dieter’s shoulders slump. 

Parker looks at him, brows knit together with concern, and adds, “But honestly, I’m so fucking exhausted, I might not be remembering right now.” 

They sit there for a moment, dull and disenchanted, until Darlene sighs, “Well, should we order some takeout?”

By late afternoon, the sun starts to sink down into the ragged black tree line of the far away mountains. 

Rays of light catch the atmosphere just right, casting a shimmering golden hue onto the cabin. One of these beautiful glowing beams streams through the window and manages to hit you square in the eyeballs. 

Grimacing, you flip your book belly-down onto the end table and push yourself up into a sitting position. A yawn expands your lungs. You stretch your arms above your head, then let them fall limp at your sides. 

Charred logs glow inside the fireplace. No flames. You rise to your feet and trudge over to it, swinging the grate open to slide a few more logs on the fire. They sizzle and pop as they catch heat and light ablaze. 

You look around the cozy, rustic living room, glancing at the clock on the wall, then out the window. 

Earlier today, while poking around the cabin for something interesting to take your mind off… Well, everything, you stumbled upon a small stash of homemade wine. A glass–maybe a bottle–sounds nice right now. Maybe you could make some food, too. Probably should. 

You pad across the dark lacquered floorboards to the cellar door, and push it open. Wrinkling your nose at the mildew scent, you flip the lightswitch on and tip-toe down the stairs, then across the room to the wine rack. One-by-one, you pull out the corked green glass bottles and take note of their year. A few are labeled Plum 2017. Two Strawberry 2018s. Half a dozen Red 2018s. 

One of the bottles reads White 2017. A fond smile tugs at the corner of your mouth. You slip the bottle under your arm before jogging up the stairs to the main level, where you sift through Sarah’s record collection. A Frank Sinatra album catches your eye, so you put it on, then pour a glass of wine and survey your limited options for supper. 

A part of you wants to say fuck it, skip the meal. Just let your empty stomach soak up the wine. Let the tiny tendrils of alcohol branch out into your bloodstream and work its numbing magic. Maybe it’ll dim the acute pain simmering beneath your sternum. 

Then you spot the lemon on the counter, sitting beside a bulb of garlic and a blue mesh bag of onions. 

There’s pasta and olive oil in the cabinet. Parmesan in the fridge. You could make something nice with that. Maybe watch the sunset. 

I could do it tonight.

No. 

Why not? 

You picture Dieter the first time you saw him. Shifty and slightly arrogant, all blown-out pupils and twitches. Basically a red flag wearing a human suit. You thought he was handsome, though. And his booming laughter brought a real smile to your face for the first time in weeks. 

It felt familiar. 

It felt like sunshine kissing your skin after a long bout of darkness. 

Shaking the picture from your head, you start rummaging through the cupboards for a pot and saucepan. You fill the pot with water, toss in some salt. 

When you pull the chef’s knife from the butcher block, you pause to examine the blade in the golden hour light. 

I could slice my pulse open. 

No. 

Why not? 

You picture Dieter the second time you met him. Kaleidoscope skin and chartreuse aura. Acid stripped away the cocaine ego to expose his bare bones. And they were beautiful. 

Something happened that night. A tethering. A melding. Some ethereal otherworldly connection that intertwined your souls. 

Even though he was essentially a stranger, you couldn’t shake the sense that he had always been and always would be a part of you. 

Swallowing around the emotion welling up in your throat, you shake your head. Too messy. 

The thought of your own blood makes you queasy. If some has to find you like that? 

Fuck.  

Your stomach twists into nausea. 

You set down the knife and find a cutting board, then resume your dinner preparation, singing along to the music, concentrating on the mechanical motion of the blade tearing through the onion, meeting resistance with each aromatic layer. 

The goddamn knife is dull anyway. 

After mincing the garlic, you nudge your little piles of chopped-up produce into the gleaming pool of melted butter in the saucepan. Steam rises with a gentle sizzle, moisture meeting fat. 

Inside the pot, tiny ripe bubbles line the underwater walls, waiting to burst. 

Turn up the heat. 

Stir the saucepan. 

Sip your wine. 

You tap your fingers on the countertop, following the beat of the brass band, and quietly sing along with Ol’ Blue Eyes, “No one would care, no one would cry. If I should live, if I should live or die. What now, my love? Now there is nothing. Only my last, my last goodbye.” 

You picture Dieter at the beach, holding your hand as the two of you waded through the tide. The best day of your life. 

You picture him in his boxers, watering his plants. You picture his warm brown eyes flicking between you and a sketchpad. Him taking the first bite of a gooey brownie and groaning with delight. Laying behind you in the bathtub, arms wrapped around your waist underwater, planting a soft kiss on your cheek bone. Waking up in the morning, his wild dark curls all bent the shape of his pillow indent, a wistful, sleepy smirk on his lips. Laughing. Smiling. Telling you he loves you. Meaning it. 

A deep ache of shame spreads across your chest. Your stomach churns. Tears burn behind your eyes, then spill over, streaming hot down your cheeks. 

How fucking stupid are you to think the darkness wouldn’t come and swallow everything whole, Dieter included? 

What, because you’re in love, the two of you should be spared? 

Has that ever stopped her before? 

I should fucking know better. 

A far-off, high frequency noise starts in your ear and it cuts audio for a second. Everything around you seems far away. Not real. You feel spectral, like you’re dreaming or a ghost or in a tv show or something. 

Entirely fiction. 

Sniffling, you wipe your damp with the sleeve of your sweater. 

You grab the wine glass off the counter and swallow its contents, then refill it, splashing a little vino into the saucepan before setting the bottle aside. 

A roar swells as the ingredients get to know each other. You take a deep breath, inhaling the sweet, pungent scent, then notice steam billowing off the water in your pot. The still surface has erupted into a consistent boil. You throw about half of a pound of fettuccine into the pot. More than enough, but who the fuck makes only one serving of pasta? 

While the fettuccine cooks, you pour some cream into the saucepan, then whisk and whisk and whisk, pausing periodically to stir the pasta. Once the sauce thickens,  you whisk in pre-grated parmesan a pinch at a time. You fish a strand of fettuccine out of the boiling water and confirm its al dente status, then transfer a few spoonfuls of pasta water into the sauce before pouring the pot over a colander in the sink. 

It calms you, this process. The step-by-step. Seeing the fruits of your labor unfold in real time. Each checkbox marked calms your ragged nerves more than the last. 

Before you know it, you’re curled up in an adirondack chair on the deck, quilt draped over your shoulders, twisting fettuccine around your fork as you watch the sun sink down into the mountains, turning the sky into this beautiful vivid watercolor. It’s fucking gorgeous, you’ll give it that. 

Am I really going to go through with this? 

That’s what you came here for, isn’t it? To end this? To ascend into that glowing iridescent tunnel? To cross the threshold and finally return to the sea of love?

It’s funny, you think, how your whole life you were afraid of dying because you didn’t know what came after. 

But after seeing it, you know you had it completely backwards. 

Death is a piece of cake. You weren’t scared once when it happened. It’s like the light turned on in your room and you knew there was nothing hiding in wait. Nothing sneaking. 

Life, though? 

Life is scrambling through the darkness of uncertainty, trying to find a beacon. When you make contact with them, you cling to flames, hoping they’ll burn forever to keep you safe and warm. They won’t. They always burn out. 

By the time you finish your pasta, the wine has fully assimilated into your bloodstream, drowning all the excess noise in your head. You polish off the bottle while watching the sun sink down into the Sierra Nevadas. Dusk absorbs the light. The atmosphere shifts from midnight blue to inky black, enveloping you in darkness. It doesn’t even bother you. 

Head swimming with wine, you lay out on the cold deck and stare up at the nighttime sky, littered with dazzling pinprick stars. 

They remind you of all the times you stargazed with your father, and the plastic glow-in-the-dark stars Ethan hung on the ceiling of the first bedroom you shared with him. 

They remind you of how incredibly vast the darkness is. 

How the hopeful glimmer of a star can appear so bright and so close, but really be lightyears away, in another galaxy, another life. 

Maybe the next one. 

[ Next Chapter ]

[judejazzaluvr]

She’s a Man Eater

Jude Jazza x Reader, Kate (canon mc) x William Rex

Synopsis: The Crown is hosting a ball, the first since Kate started as Fairytale Keeper, and she’s so excited to meet everyone. Enter Y/N, Jude’s beautiful, charming date.

(Or, the one where Kate and Y/N get to know each other.)

Warnings: Fem pronouns, use of Y/N, Jude being Jude, idek if these count as warnings bye

The air of the Crown’s castle is electric tonight, and Kate doesn’t think she’s ever experienced anything quite as exquisite before.

As a simple mail-carrier, she isn’t the most well-off, so having joined the Crown has allowed her to experience a lot more than her small world had to offer.

“Why don’t you go find someone to talk to?” William suggests, breaking Kate out of her stupor. “I have some business with Victor to deal with first.”

“Okay,” she agrees easily, and he presses a kiss to the back of her hand before disappearing into the crowd.

As she navigates the ballroom, she looks for anyone that seems out-of-place or lonely, so that she can potentially keep them some company.

She spots her target only minutes after she begins. A beautiful woman standing near the windows alone, sipping a flute of champagne.

Her own drink in hand, Kate takes a deep breath before approaching the woman.

“Hello.”

The woman seems surprised at the approach, but flashes Kate a smile nonetheless.

“Hello there.”

“You’re… Jude’s girlfriend, aren’t you?”

The woman chuckles.

“‘Girlfriend’ is a bit much,” she admits.

Her voice is low and seductive, and Kate doesn’t wonder why Jude chose this woman.

“You came with him though.”

“That I did. Y/N, it’s nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too, I’m Kate.”

“Ah,” Y/N seems to have a sudden realization as her eyes light up. “Kate, the Fairytale Keeper, no? Jude told me about you.”

That has Kate’s eyebrows raising.

“I’m surprised to hear that. He doesn’t seem to like me very much.”

“He’s like that with everyone, don’t worry,” Y/N says, eyes flickering over to the man and back to Kate. If it wasn’t just a trick of the light, Kate could almost swear she saw Y/N’s eyes soften for a moment.

“I’ll take your word for it.” Kate takes a sip of her champagne. “I love your dress, by the way. It’s gorgeous.”

“Thank you. Jude got it for me.” Y/N does a little spin, making both of them laugh. “He does have an eye for these things, I will admit.”

The two women continue to chat, a little about themselves but mostly about the Crown, when Y/N’s eyes get a particular gleam to them.

“Tell me, Kate, do you have an eye on one of the Crown members?”

Startled, Kate blinks.

“W-what do you mean?”

“Have any of the men caught your interest?”

“Well…”

Y/N smiles knowingly and doesn’t give Kate a chance to answer properly before speaking.

“I saw you with William.”

“Oh,” Kate says dumbly, “you did?”

“You make a cute couple. Just be careful, okay? I don’t want you to get hurt.”

There’s an underlying message to Y/N’s words that Kate catches onto, but they’re interrupted before she has the chance to ask what she means.

“Ya girls gettin along?” Jude’s sharp gaze makes Kate wince, but Y/N just smiles sweetly at him.

(And if Jude’s gaze isn’t as jagged when he looks at Y/N, what about it?)

“Like two peas in a pod,” Y/N says.

“You should bring Y/N around more. I really like her.”

He huffs at that and mutters something about not wanting to share, but Kate doesn’t quite catch it. Y/N does, though, and she laughs.

“Don’t worry, Jude, I’m all yours.”

“Like I was worried about that,” he rolls his eyes, yet his hand still rests on Y/N’s waist possessively.

Kate takes one look at the couple and smiles to herself. They look so cute. Unfortunately for her, Jude catches her smile.

“What are ya makin that face for? Go to William if you wanna look stupid.”

Instead of being upset at his words, Kate’s smile only grows.

“I will. See you around, Y/N.”

A/N: Short but sweet? I think it’s okay for my first officially published (on Tumblr) fic. Hopefully I only get better with practice 💪

[beybaldes]

maybe you can’t see how much you mean to me

Graham Dunne x Fem!Reader

djats masterlist

word count : 2k

summary : basically a Graham!version of they long to be (close to you) OR the one where you and Graham get a good nights sleep.

thank you for the request @p4landia <33 i hope you like it - i sure enjoyed writing it!

Warning!! I have not read the book or the show!!! All info I have gathered has been from other x readers I have read. sorry in advance if I have butchered your fav show/book because I have plainly made shit up in favour of satiating my own need for more warren fics xoxo

"No, it's okay Warren, you go to bed." Warren scooped you up in his arms, placing you down in the spot next to Graham who had already opened up his blanket for you, then pressed a kiss to your cheek. "I'll leave the door open for you."

You'd spent the last 20 minutes convincing Warren to go to bed while you stayed up in hushed tones, not wanting to alert any of the others to your agreement, but not wanting him feel alone. It was never fun trying to sleep in the new environment that was the LA house, but you and Warren were doing your best to make it through a bad situation, whatever the means. Besides, it was nice to have someone to cuddle up with on the colder nights, even if it was someone else in the house you'd rather be cuddled up with.

You let your head fall to Graham's shoulder as Warren placed you down, who pulled his arm out from between the two of you and wrapped it over the back of the sofa. He allowed you to tangle your legs up in his pyjama covered ones, making sure you were comfortable before he turned his attention back to the tv screen. Maybe he'd one day be brave enough to press a quick, but loving, kiss to your cheeks the way Warren just had.

"You and Warren are sleeping together?" Karen had been the one brave enough to ask, the conversation between the two of you not unnoticed by the rest of the group - it being the only thing to break the silence in the past 40 minutes.

All heads turned to you, attention suddenly on something that had the potential to be more interesting then the rerun of Scooby-doo that had just started. "Not like that." You answered softly, eyes still focused on the cartoon dog and his gang on friends, not noticing how everyone else was now looking at you. "We both just like the company of it. I don't think either of us realised how lonely it would be coming out to LA."

Relief swept through Graham's body, him letting out a breathe he didn't realise he'd been holding in as he waited to hear your answer. Sure, you were much more casual with affection then anyone else he knew was, but with Warren it always seemed like more - he was glad to know it wasn't.

"Cute." Camilla mused, a warm smile curling on her lips as she took in that even in your sleep you were reaching out for the touch and warmth of someone else.

"You're always welcome in my bed, sweet-pea." Karen added, a smile curling on her own lips as she managed to take your attention away from the tv. "I swear you run cold. Would be nice in the LA heat."

"You can't steal my blanket buddy." Graham gasped, pulling you tighter against him and furiously tucking the blanket around the two of you. Your head fell from his shoulder and now pressed against his chest at the movement, the beat of his heart a soft call to sleep beneath you. "She's the perfect amount of cold. The windows open, with the blanket, with y/n is the perfect temperature for me."

A smile curled on your face at the possessiveness behind Graham's words, liking how he sounded when he was referring to you as his and perfect. It was something you could easily get used to hearing more often.

"I'm going to have to pass on that one Karen, unless you want to come down to my room." You countered her offer with a soft smile, attention moving back to the tv once more. "Warren says your room is haunted."

Laughter spread through out the room as you sided with Warren even in his absence; he was so sweet to you, and that's what friends do, so how could you not?

"What?" You asked, laughing yourself. "We left it empty until your arrival for a reason." That caused another round of laughter to break out in the room, everyone enjoying the way the two of you were slowly but surely morphing into one person with the more time you spent confined in the LA rental.

A particularly loud shout of "scoob!" from the TV had everyone's attention turned back to the cartoon, letting the nature of your relationship with Warren lie for at least the time being.

By the end of the third episode, only you, Graham and Eddie remained in the room. Graham and you were fast asleep, his head leaning atop yours, the two of you wrapped in what looked like a tight hug, although the blanket hid your entangled legs, and Eddie was sat in the armchair against the wall, legs curled into the seat and a bottle of warm beer in his hands that he'd been nursing for the last half an hour.

As the intro to the next rerun of Scooby-doo blasted from the TV, Graham startled awake, literally jumping out of his seat and pulling the blanket with him. He grumbled some attempt at what you thought was a goodnight, and went to stumble sleepily out of the room, the warmth of him and the blanket leaving you alone on the couch.

Reaching out for him at the last second, you slipped your fingers through his, intertwining your hands. Shuffling through the room to meet him, you murmured a command of 'sleep' dropping your head against his chest once more.

Graham pulled his arm up to rest over your shoulders, his hand in your hair and scratching at your scalp, lulling you back to sleep exactly where you stood.

"One second." You pleaded, removing yourself from his hold and making your way over to Eddie who opened his arms out to you as you waddled into his side. "Goodnight Ed's." You murmured dreamily, pressing a sweet kiss to his jaw as your couldn't quite reach his cheek now he was stood up.

"Goodnight birdie." He replied, guiding you back into Graham's arms as he left the room, making his own way to bed. Graham wrapped his arms around your shoulder, keeping you as tucked under the blanket as he could give the situation, and began to lead the two of you back to his room.

"This okay?" Graham asked as he guided you into his bed, pulling the duvet back and getting you settled before he tried to do so for himself. "Want to stay nice 'n warm 'n cuddled up with you."

"Yeah, 'course." You hummed, waiting for Graham to get into the bed with you before you wiggled yourself into his arms, intertwining your legs with him just as you had done on the couch moments ago. You tucked your head under his chin, burrowing yourself into the warmth Graham provided in a much easier way then you had done on the couch.

"Goodnight sunshine." Graham whispered, noticing that you'd already dropped asleep with one of his hands tangled in your hair and the other running up and down the length of your back. He pressed a chaste kiss to the crown of your head, smiling into your skin as he closed him eyes. "Goodnight."

The two of you slept right through the night, tossing and turning though still holding onto each-other, each movement accompanied by the other immediately moving as well to continue the comfortable sleep. Like usual, you were the first awake, you an early riser and Graham waking up as soon as you tried to move out of his hold. Though you'd tried to convince him to go back to sleep, shushing him and running your hands through his hair, he insisted on getting up with you.

And that's how you'd ended up here, your legs tangled with his once more, the little blue blanket covering your lap and two rather large bowls of cereal in hand. The tv had been left on, and now an episode of The Walton's was playing, the early morning tv not being watched but just adding a gentle hum to the room.

Graham had yet to take his eyes off of you since the two of you woke up, his cereal left uneaten in his hand despite you encouraging him to eat it before it got soggy. "You're beautiful, you know that?" He asked, tucking your hair back behind your ear.

"What?" You practically choked on your cereal, moving the bowl to the coffee table and giving Graham your full attention instead.

"You're beautiful." He repeated, cupping your face with one hand while the other reached for your own, intertwining your fingers. "I've just been thinking about it, that's okay."

"Yeah?" You asked, the undivided attention you were giving the brunette having his cheeks flush pink, his eyes moving between your lips and your own.

"Yeah." He answered breathlessly, looking back to your eyes and wetting his lips. "Can I... can I kiss you?"

"Yeah." You answered, not leaving another second for him to make the first move, ducking down and pressing your lips to his in one swift movement. Graham was stunned into stillness, though only for a second, quickly regaining his senses and kissing you back, his lips moving in sync with yours.

Your hands moved up to his hair, tugging and pulling him closer to you as his cupped your jaw, deepening the kiss with every movement of his lips and swipe of his tongue against yours. Graham's other hand moved to the small of your back, pulling you up and guiding you into his lap, you leg swinging over him and settling on either side of his hips comfortably.

At the sound of a door creaking open somewhere down the hall, you pressed your lips against Graham's in one final, long kiss, then another quick softer one, sliding off his lap and cuddling into his side - pulling the blanket over the two of you. As the footsteps got closer to the room, Graham grabbed your cereal for you, picking up his own as well and forcing his attention onto the tv screen a little too hard.

"woah, morning guys." Eddie stumbled through the living room, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he tried to find the kitchen with his eyes half closed. "you're up earlier."

"She always is." Graham answered, eyes unmoving from the episode of The Waltons that was beginning to come to an end. "I'm just tagging along."

"So you weren't making out when I came in here?" Grahams hand was quick to smack against your back as you chocked on your cereal, your coughing going away quickly as he helped you. "And you didn't get into bed together last night?"

"If we say no, will you believe us?" You looked at Eddie over the back of the couch, a glass of water in his hands and his eyes squinted tightly shut in an effort to keep the daylight out.

"No. I have eyes." Eddie sassed, taking a sip of his water and running his hand over his face, his hair immediately flopping back in front of his eyes after he pushed it back. He could do with a headband, you thought, making a mental note to but him one the next time you were out. "But I'm not going to say anything. You do you. Night guys."

As soon as you heard Eddie's bedroom door close again, you were back on Graham's lap, letting your empty bowl of cereal fall to the floor and not caring, knowing you'd clean it up later.

"Really?" Graham asked, reaching around you to place his bowl down carefully, unlike how you'd all but thrown it down.

"Really." You didn't waste another second before pulling him in for another kiss, threading your fingers through the tufts of hair at the nape of his neck, rocking closer to him as the kiss deepened. Pulling back only enough to whisper words against his lips, Graham went in for another kiss, but you stopped him with a gentle push to his chest. "He's definitely gonna tell Warren isn't he."

"Oh, for sure."

[spotsandsocks]

✨ 2023 writing round-up ✨

Tagged by (and I might have missed some people sorry) @exhuastedpigeon @jamespearce9-1-1 @heartshapedvows @thekristen999 @jesuisici33 @daffi-990 @hippolotamus @wikiangela

Links to all 23 fics I’ve written which I’ve just realised coincidentally matches the year maybe I shouldn’t work on that Christmas fic after all 🤔 All under the cut cos that’s quite a few and your dash does not need to be bothered by that! 😆😆 I will forget to tag someone I know it, so if I do I didn’t really and you’re tagged too cos you’re wonderful

💕💜💕Thank you to each and everyone of you who talks to me, tags me, supports and encourages me, reblogs and likes. Sends asks and questions and prompts and love in my direction. Thank you for sharing your time, talents , your words and creative skills with us all. You make my days brighter and more fun. I adore you all and wish you all a happy kind and peaceful 2024. 💕💜💕

January

Home Wanted 6k established Buddie new pet based shenanigans 🐀🐁🐀

Could Have Should Have Would Have 3k my biggest hit this year angsty then sweet

Who You Gonna Call? 9k Eddie calls Buck and works out how he feels

February

This Must Be Love 5.7k fluffy valentines fic featuring pea puns 🫛

March

Just another minute 1.2k 6x10 spec

No Place 8.4k coma!buck spec fic with a few similarities to what we got actually

It's Such A Feeling 1.8k couldn’t remember but apparently hand appreciation fic that gets smutty 😉

April

Date Night 2k I got stuck on bus for almost 3 hours and this happened - surprisingly popular considering I had no plans to write it until traffic hit!

The Answer I Needed 2.4k Buck is always there for Eddie 5plus 1 across time till love strikes

Always There 1.6k Tía Pepa sees all at Christopher’s birthday party

May

Everything But (temptation) 4.7 5plus 1 of Eddie being a flirty tease and driving Buck crazy

Worth the wait5.7 same fic but from Buck’s perspective

July

Good Knight Sweet Prince 167,316k ahh my best beloved started in 2023 and finished this year. I adored writing and sharing this what turned out to be epic length fantasy au. Knights princes dragons thwarted love and a happy ending what can I say if that’s your thing give it a go.

Let me stay by your fire (for nothing warms me like you do)4.5k couldn’t let go of mediaeval theme so knight Buck this time coming home to his blacksmith friend Eddie. Oh and bees. 🐝

August

Something Worth Staying For 21k an enemies to lover (although not really enemies) small town newspaper au where Buck turns up and Eddie hates him until he doesn’t. Featuring my real life computer disaster 😆

Tied To You From The Start 13.4k a challenge I took on and did rather well if I say so myself 😆😆 paranormal mysterious shenanigans. Buck in peril and on the run Eddie trying to save him from his own self sacraments and hot sex.

September

The Comfort of Your Hands 2.9k inspired by an anon talking about Eddie running fingers through Bucks hair. No plans for this one it just happened and again was well received. Maybe I should stop planning fics and just see what happens.

October

The Price of Love (is high) 7.7k autumnangstfest drama. I put them both through it. All past traumas coming back to cause trouble.

Your heart or mine? Yours every time 3.6k a hungry vampire!Buck and Eddie get stuck in a lift … things occur

November

100 word fics added a short fic to this little collection i actually love doing these. It’s a great challenge

Only one answer 590 couldn’t remember.. had a look and went oh yeah that was cute. Proposal fic in under 600 words

In my defence I was left unsupervised 1.3k Buck gets bored with sissors Eddie likes the results … who could resist buzz but Buck… not Eddie it seems

Nov/Dec

The Lost and The Found wip 5/10 48k this was not meant to be this long but guess what.. got carried away and plot is plotting and demands around 100,000 at least in the end I suspect. 5 chapters out number 6and 7 before Christmas this counts as 2023 doesn’t it? Come join me for the ride

@daffi-990 @shortsighted-owl @monsterrae1 @rogerzsteven @hippolotamus @loserdiaz @the-likesofus @stagefoureddiediaz @yelenasbuddie @hoodie-buck @buddierights @bekkachaos @thekristen999 @ronordmann @caroandcats @spaceprincessem @disasterbuckdiaz @heartshapedvows @underwater-ninja-13 @wildlife4life @wikiangela @thewolvesof1998 @exhuastedpigeon @weewootruck @giddyupbuck @housewifebuck @honestlydarkprincess @pirrusstuff @elvensorceress @jesuisici33 @eddiebabygirldiaz @jamespearce9-1-1 @theplaceyoustillrememberdreaming @wh0re-behavi0r @princessfbi @jacksadventuresinwriting @ci5mates @katries @megsvstheworld @like-the-rest-of-la

[raccoonfallsharder]

I read recently that you answered a similar question, so I wanted to ask you for some advice with description in general, (character actions, description of environment or scenery, what is happening at that moment, etc) I have a lot of problems with this. If I want to describe the scenery, I don't know what else to say besides the color of the sky xD I've always had that problem and when I read what I write I feel it's very basic and childish.

For example, I wrote something like this, "The weather couldn't be more perfect, the sky was clear with not a single cloud obstructing that deep bright blue, the breeze was so soft it caressed my skin and the waves were gently lapping." So I read this and I say, how boring, I feel like I'm not connecting with this, and it happens to me mostly when I want to describe a person's actions, for example, if they are smiling and then someone says something to them that bothers them, how they react? I don't know how to describe it.

So I wanted to ask you for advice because since I read your first fic I thought "this is it, this is what I want to get to with my writing" I hope you don't mind my asking and I hope you're doing great, I always read all your fics even if I don't comment <3.

sweet little sugar snap pea. ♡ first of all, you are so lovely and kind. thank you for honoring me with this ask. it's a privilege and i am really grateful you think so well of my writing. truly, it means a lot. i took some time to think about this because it was important to me to give you a real answer. i'm also gonna come back and reblog this later with some thoughts on writing peoples reactions/perspectives? for now, i'm just going to focus on writing environments, if that's okay? sorry i just write too fucken much all the time ꃋᴖꃋ ♡♡

so as always, i'll preface this with the reminder that everyones' writing style is unique and brings something precious to the table, and while we can always grow and enrich our writing, what you create is wonderfully you. what we want is for you to figure out how to tap into your own style more fully, more authentically, and more clearly. i don't think there's anything wrong with the excerpt you shared, and i can also see where you might want to make it more identifiably you.

here are some things that have worked for me personally:

firstly: i take out my "telling not showing" sentences. i might draft it with the sky was perfect, but on revision, i usually remove it because it's too heavy. i don't want to tell my reader that the sky was perfect. i want them to interpret it from how i've described it. i don't want to say the kiss was good - i want them to know what it tasted like or the way it made their nerves pop and snap and sizzle. i don't want to say he had beautiful eyes - i want you to be able to see his eyes, like warm caramel or copper pennies. you don't even need to replace a sentence like the sky is perfect - you can just remove it entirely.

secondly, when i'm stuck in a rut, like, "oh, i've described a sky like this a hundred times", or even, "i've read skies like this described a hundred times," i honestly just do some writing exercises. the result is that i'll either find a description i like, or i'll create new material to use at a later date - or i'll just get practice thinking about things in different ways.

so let's take this sky example from your excerpt: the sky was clear with not a single cloud obstructing that deep bright blue.

i might ask, "what tangible thing is this sky like, and what would i want to do in it." then i try to reframe it so i don't use a direct simile.

the sky was an ocean

the sky was so deep and clear you could dive into it and not surface for days.

i might ask, "what other senses can i use to experience this sky, beyond sight." (taste, smell, sound, touch)

the sky was empty and clean

you could breathe that sky in, and your lungs would only feel crisp and bright, and everything would smell like water lilies for the rest of the week.

i might try to describe the sky from the perspective of something else in the scene.

this seems like maybe a beach because you'd mention waves so I''m gonna say there are seagulls

the seagulls wheeled in the sky, getting lost without any clouds to serve as landmarks.

i might say, what is the emotional quality of the scene? when the character looks at it, what do they feel? what does it make them want? i think you want this scene to be calming but we're gonna try a bunch of different emotional lenses:

calming: they could have wrapped themselves up in that infinite blue, and called it home.

harsh (angry/in shock): he stared at the sky. he'd never realized how severe and sharp it was, without any clouds to soften the edges.

grief: she wanted to lose herself in the cloudless blue. drown herself in it.

as a sidenote, i'm thinking of Wyndham; or, the Intergalactic Prometheus ♡ in which the thunderstorm sky is described as bruise-colored and rotten at various points when pearl-reader is miserable/afraid, and as rippling watercolor when she's feeling more relaxed. even the same sky takes on different qualities depending on the mood of the person experiencing it.

i might just say "fuck this sky; i'm gonna write a new one." sometimes this is fun because you get to see how the environmental/atmospheric tone changes the feeling of the scene.

it was storming: the purple clouds formed a quilt overhead, stitched through with lightning. the waves responded in kind: shattering softly on the shore, reflecting ribbons of swift-moving light.

jk it was foggy: the world was so misted over that he couldn't tell where the water ended and the sky began. the world was simply endless and dove-gray.

i also might just be like "i'm just gonna write something really weird and figure this out later." you've got a really rich scene here - gently lapping waves and a clear blue sky? you could do something weirdly symmetrical with them. like, between the sea and the sky, everything was so deep and blue that you couldn't tell if the soft hush of the waves was coming from above your head or at your feet. just play around with reality tbh

honestly i try to shy away from "advice" because everyone's approach needs to be tailored to them, but i would honestly say starting with some writing exercises is a great way to just explore your own style and how you want to think about things. other things you can do is literally go outside (or wherever) and close your eyes and really try to focus on every single sensation you're experiencing, and then write about it. fill pages. what did it remind you off? when you felt the breeze and it caressed your skin gently, did it also move the little hairs on your arms? did you feel it in places you don't normally pay attention to, like on your shoulders or the back of your neck? what did it smell like? what did it taste like? if it didn't have a taste, what would it taste like, if it did? do this whenever you can, in as many experiences as you can. sunrise at a beach. sunset on a mountaintop. golden hour in the deep woods. in front of a bonfire. at a park on the swings at midnight with friends. alone in a hot tub under a 2am snowfall. if you can't physically go there, imagine it. sink yourself into the daydream so deep you don't want to leave, and then just write. and write. and write. every sentence you put down, add one more. make it weirder, stranger, zoomed out, zoomed in, from a different perspective, a different sense, a different metaphor.

okay that's all for now and i know it's a lot and i'm sorry, but i hope it helps give you a place to start? and i will try to get back to you on writing reactions and facial expressions when i can parse through all my thoughts on those!

[highlordofkrypton]

martha kent & pie 🥧

chapter 1 of a thousand leagues of food

SUMMARY

Everyone knows about Martha Kent's famous pies; they're the best in the midwest. The real question is, do you know why Martha loves pie? They say, the most important ingredient is love.

Note: Thank you @angelosearch for inspiring me and letting me use your thesis for the basis of this fic!

Additional note: I'm open to suggestions for characters you'd like to see in future chapters, I'm making a list!

Martha Clark loves pie.

She loves the way it moves beneath calloused hands—hands that have worked the farm all day. The strength just as much as it demands attention, threatening to crumble at a careless touch. She loves the way it shapes the man who kneads it, outlining the divot between muscle and bone of his forearm. He’s got his sleeves rolled up, and oh, what a sight to see. 

Her teeth catch on her lip, a little too thoughtful as she watches.

“Bored?” The farm boy asks.

“Not at all,” answers the city girl. “Tired?”

“Not at all.”

His grin is dashing, a flash of bright white framed by deep dimples. His nose looks impressively straight, except for the faint bump that she’s traced a hundred times over while laying in his arms, cradled by his bed. He’d broken it in high school roughhousing with his former teammates on the football team. Jonathan Kent is all but a mystery, but she loves every single thing about him.

“Come, I’ll show you.” He gestures to her, and she slips off of the stool to wipe a stray dusting of flour off his face.

“I thought you were treating me to dinner, handsome? Kent family’s famous pie.” Her own lips are painted a soft pink. Red’s for ugly girls, her mother would say. Insecure girls who need attention. She finds that she wants his, and maybe next time she’ll dare. “Isn’t the recipe a secret?”

“Mhm.” Jonathan frames her petite body with his arms, sliding his rough palms over her soft hands and guides her fingers through the dough. “Family only.”

The thought sends a shiver through her spine, or is that the warmth of him pressed against her back? He considers me family. It’s a lovely thought; it makes her fall all the more in love with him. Martha won’t let him off easy—what kind of gal does he think she is?

“You proposin’ to me, Mister Kent?”

His laughter rumbles in his chest, echoed into her from the proximity. “Not at all, Miss Clark. See, if I was proposin’, you’ll bet there’ll be a big hullabaloo. Pretty city girl turns her back on the social elite, runs off with a dashing farmer. It’ll be on all the Kansas papers.” 

“Jonathan! You’ll give my mother a heart attack.”

Jonathan leans close, kissing her cheek. “Nah, when I propose, you’ll know it.”

Martha tips her head giving him more access, and turns to kiss him. She likes him, and he’s a good man, but they’re not a match. Her father and her mother won’t hear of it, much less her long line of aunties who just want her to be taken care of. (And by that, they mean money.) John loves her, and he treats her better than any of the boys she’s been set up with. Gosh, she’d be happy here. She really, really would.

A little prayer goes a long way, so she’ll send her love to the stars and hope it all works out.

“I think it’s ready for the par bake.”

Jonathan moves to set the crust in the baking pan, and fill it with uncooked beans. It slides easily into the old oven that’s been in his home for generations, a study old thing.

“My, what ever will we do while waiting?”

“I think I have an idea,” Jonathan smirks and picks her up, but not before wiping his hands clean.

Hooking her arms across his shoulders, Martha can’t help herself. “Do you mean it, John? You really want to marry me one day?”

“I don’t make pie for just anyone, but yeah, sweet pea, you’re the love of my life. If it isn’t you, I don’t want anyone else.”

***

“This is the last time. I can’t do it anymore, John.” Her voice quivers with unshed tears and a weakness that has never been present in her heart and her soul. 

The years have been hard on them, and she was too damn young when she decided that love was enough. Love carried them through the hardest seasons—through a drought when no crops would yield, and the old tree crashing into the barn after a storm. Every cent they make goes to the bills, and what little savings they can manage for the baby.

The baby that isn’t coming.

The baby that won’t ever come.

They’ve tried and tried again. Martha can buckle down and get a job in town waitressing. She can take up more hours at the local post office or help ol’ Pete, the local accountant during tax season. She’s always been good with numbers, but she’s not so good to make the dollars multiply on a whim. Together, they’ve found a way, but there isn’t a way through this .

It’s God’s will, and damn his will. She’s never cursed him before, but this is the line.

Martha slams the crust on the table, taking her anger out on it, because it isn’t anyone’s fault.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Jonathan exhales, sliding up behind her and catching her wrists. “We always said, if it’s meant to be, it will be. Maybe a baby isn’t meant for us.”

“It’s—,” she snaps, curling her fingers into the sad mix of flour, butter and water. She wasn’t paying attention, she doesn’t remember if the steps are correct. If her hands are grounded with this tasks, then maybe it’ll stop her mind from running off. 

It’s too late now because the words are tumbling from her mouth before she can stop them. “It’s my fault. I can’t keep a baby.”

“Don’t you dare,” Jonathan stops her, pulling his wife into his arms. “Don’t you dare blame yourself for this.”

***

The ‘boom’ of the crash wakes her, but it’s the fire that gets her out of bed. Martha shoves her feet in her boots, and grabs the shotgun while telling her husband to get the water trailer. If they don’t stop the fire now, it’ll spread to the rest of their crops and they won’t have anything . She’s fought too damn hard for this life, and she won’t lose it now. They can argue about government conspiracies and aliens later.

She joins him in the truck, buckled in tightly while holding her weapon. Times have changed. Kids are meaner and rowdier—you never know when they’ll take their pranks too far. The gun’s just for emphasis. Martha Kent wouldn’t hurt a fly.

There isn’t anyone at the heart of the crash, but the fire comes first. Once they’ve doused their stalks of corn, Martha can focus on what on earth is going on. No, no, not Earth.

“Think it’s a satellite?”

“I thought you said you weren’t sure if the moon landing was real.”

“I stand corrected.”

Jonathan slides down the dirt  into the crater. Once he’s at the bottom, Martha tosses him the shotgun just in case. 

“If there’s anyone in there, come out and we won’t harm ya.”

Nothing happens for a long, long moment. Then, a loud hiss fills their ears, coming from the… the hunk of metal. It opens smoothly, despite its disgraceful landing, revealing a bright, bright light. It settles and dims just enough for them to see it—

A baby. 

A tiny little thing, swaddled in a crimson blanket.

He is the last thing Martha ever expected to see; she was ready to believe in aliens. It’s just a baby .

Martha climbs down the crater, despite all of Jonathan’s protests. The circumstances are strange, but she knows in her heart and her soul that this child was meant for them.

“We could give him a good home.”

“You’re kidding me. We don’t know the first thing about raisin’ a child.” It’s been decades since they abandoned that dream. Jonathan’s got back pain thinking about it. (He knows he won’t resist the urge to pick up and toss that little boy in the air, catching him whenever he falls. His mind wants to be rational, but his mind’s made up.)

“Weren’t you the one who said it’d be as easy as pie?”

***

Martha Kent loves pie. 

Inside each one, she remembers her hopes, her dreams and most importantly, her great loves.

[thebtswritersclub]

Happy Birthday Courtney!

Whispers float through the chilly air. A big day is upon us. They fill the streets more than people. A big celebration is upon us. No one talks about it loudly as preparation is shrouded in a moth-riddled veil of secrecy. A lone figure returns to their home late, sighing and preparing for what was to come as they turned on their lights.

Click

Everyone jumps out!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY COURTNEY!

Originally posted by lia7nne

@casuallyimagining​‘s birthday is now upon us! She’s such an amazing and hard working admin and without her, our net wouldn’t be the same. She gives us structure and helps encourage us to stay organized. Her humor and great perspective is a refreshing and needed part of our community!

Thank you for being on our team!

You are one of the most hard workireng people I have ever known and I am incredibly endlessly amazed by you. I hope the year ahead is amazing for you. All my love

~ Aditi @ditttiii​

- Dean @here4theheartbreak​

Courtney!

Happy biethday! We’ve known eachother a couple of years now and I am so excited to see the growth you’ve had as a writer and a person, and I look forward to seeing more in the next year! You’re a great friend and a great person, and I am thankful for you in my life. Have a happy birthday and an amazing upcoming 2023!

Happy birthday Courtney! May your special day be fun and easy!

- AJ @bangtanintotheroom​

Dear Courtney!

Another year has passed! Can't believe we've been on the Tumblr journey together for so long. Thank you for being so trustworthy, talented, honest and loyal. Your support in the last months has meant a lot, so thank you for listening to my vents along with the other admins and being generally such an amazing part of the team, and a good friend. Happy birthday! May it be an amazing one

- Rid x @taegularities​

Hi Courtney, 

Happy birthday, I hope you have a really good time! You are such a wonderful, helpful person and I always love bouncing ideas with you and seeing your gorgeous stories develop! Thank you for being such an active face as an admin in the net, you bring such life to our community and we all appreciate you a lot

- Ru @btsmosphere​

Happy Birthday, Courtney! Have a wonderful day and thank for you all you do for BWC! :)

- Pea @sujiunit​

Courtney! 

 Happy birthday! You're such a creative and thoughtful person. Whenever we chat, I find myself learning more and more and it's so wonderful! Your dedication to thinking things through and speaking your mind is so admirable. I'm so glad to have you on our admin team and in BWC! You make the net just a bit brighter (and just a bit better functioning). HAPPY BIRTHDAY! 

 - Lillia @moccahobi​

Hey there Courtney! 

I just wanted to say happy birthday, I hope you have an amazing day with the ones you love and care for. Remember to eat some sweets too. 

 I hope we will get to talk more in the future, both regarding writing (you are a great help whenever I have questions - even when I think they are dumb, you still answer them, so thank u  ), but also just everyday stuff -

 Anita @winterbamse​

Happy birthday Courtney!!!!! It’s been so lovely to get to know you this year and work together on our projects and I value your presence and input so much! I hope you have the happiest day and wishing you many more to come!!!

- Jo @daechwitatamic

[mikaharuka]

15 and 18 for the lovely ladies!

(Ok, for Beau's beau and the Chaotic ship as well)

Heyo Alhaira! Thanks for the ask... and the mental image of a certain chaotic pair XD

-

#15 - "who isn’t afraid to embarrass the other in public?"

Rose/Elle - Oddly enough, I think both of them! In the spirit of good-hearted teasing and mild embarrassment, they dish about the same as they get, though in different flavors. It's all super sweet how they do it, though, so everyone can tell it's more for them than for any sense of embarrassment. As it relates to *other* people though... totally Elle! She was giving Edward and Beau shit about the whole 'fake boyfriends' thing, as Mike noted in Sapphire and Sangria!

Alice/Mina - Alice is certainly more likely to try (she and Edward are peas of a chaotic sibling pod lol), but Mina is at total peace and it's actually really hard to phase her. Mina will find her entertainment with others acting around her (see Sangria for the first of many examples lol), so she's more likely to see Alice's attempts as cute. Hilariously enough, while Mina might not try to embarrass Alice explicitly, she might accidentally do so successfully~

Carlisle/Beau - I feel like both of them would definitely do their best *not* to embarrass the other in public officially (not at first, anyways), given the super awkward circumstances. In the longer run, though, I think it would be Carlisle, actually, though it would be more of a mild way... so more good-natured teases rather than embarrassment.

Edward/Mike - These two morons could definitely find themselves in a competition. Edward is more likely to initiate shenanigans (see Mocha for an example XD), but while Mike won't start anything, his inner monologue is naturally sassy. For now, he's finding his ground, but once he does... Edward better watch out. Especially since Mike has Rose as a petty partner-in-crime, if stuff gets wild enough XD

-

#18 - "who finds it impossible to stay angry at the other for long?"

Rose/Elle - Both of them! Rose is a bit of a tsundere, so she might be 'annoyed', but she just loves being around Elle. And Elle is a general sweetie... well, when she's not out being casually teasing and petty. Which Rose is too, but Rose is more serious and concentrated about it. They tend to make up and get on the same page rather quickly.

Alice/Mina - Probably Alice. Alice might get upset more easily, but she gives in way more easily too. Mina is pretty hard to get upset, since she's always in a sort of state of total peace... but heavens forbid you actually piss Mina off, she'll hold onto that for a long while!

Carlisle/Beau - I think both of them, because neither of them seem the type to stay angry at the other person (other people on the other hand... that's a different story altogether - they both hold grudges). Being said... I think Carlisle would give in more easily in the grand scheme, since time makes you learn to let go of the smaller stuff.

Edward/Mike - Probably Edward. The first reason is the same as Carlisle's - time just makes you let go of the small stuff. The second reason - Mike is quite accommodating and peaceful by nature, putting others before himself... so you'd have to work to actually get him visibly angry. But if you *do* rile him up (which Edward does quite easily)... then Mike can absolutely be that petty bastard who holds onto stuff. Heck, he's already shows signs of it and I suspect this part of him will show its face in the next chapter, Indigo lol

-

Do feel free to send more asks my way! You can either specify the WL pairs (Carlisle/Beau, Mike/Edward, Rose/Elle, Mina/Alice) you'd like the question for, or you can leave it out and I'll answer for all four (because I need an excuse to ramble on and think and plan for my end-game, of course XD) And of course, you can find the questions here and my other answers I've given in the 'mizuka's otp stuff' tag :)

[blondcs]

𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇 𝐇𝐔𝐓 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓 𝟗: 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟖

what are your thoughts on max & dejan’s exit last night? why didn’t you vote for them?

her face is instantly buried in her hands with a groan. “it just sucks. like, it sucks so bad. max is such a fucking idiot, picking the least likable person in the villa—maybe even the world—to couple up with... so fucking stupid. like,” her hands push back through her hair, coming to rest at the back of her neck. “i couldn’t have gotten josh to vote for them. i couldn’t. and i know max was upset i didn’t throw him a bone—don’t—but really, there was no fucking way. and it really just sucks. max was genuinely the last person i wanted to go. if it wasn’t a couple vote, i would’ve done it differently. sorry, rhys.” 

how are you feeling about the start of casa amor?

“do i look happy?” she doesn’t. “i literally can’t think of a worse time to be hit with casa, so kudos to whoever managed that. it just... it sucks! like, i don’t know what you want me to say. maybe if josh and i had the chance to talk or if he freaked out on me last night or something and said the max thing was too much for him, i could’ve come in here with an open mind. but so much was kind of left in the air. like, i don’t know. it was dark and he was all bruised and it was all so fresh, it was impossible to read him, but it seemed like maybe he would’ve been willing to kind of forgive and forget? i don’t know. maybe that’s wishful thinking. i just... i feel like i fucked it all up and now i don’t even get to try to fix it and who even knows what’s going on over there and i’m just stuck here sulking—like, i’ve gone from having two guys ( kind of ) to having none. overnight. and maybe that would’ve happened without casa anyway given everything, but i can’t even really know that for sure because we didn’t get to fucking talk, and now there’s all these bombshells here and like, they’re all shiny and new and they’re not even paying attention to me, which yeah, is good because i’m trying to be good, but it’s also like... if i have to sit here and watch everyone get grafted but me i’ll lose my mind. like, i’ll really lose my fucking mind. i just... i really miss josh, actually. i’m straight up not having a good time.”

are there any new islanders that have caught your attention? who?

“ugh, i don’t know. yeah? i guess? i don’t want to talk about it.” they don’t exactly prompt her to continue, but enough silence and she’s gonna fill it anyway. “ugh, okay well charlene’s been good for my ego, thank fucking god. it’s like a shriveled up, sad little pea-sized thing right now, so i’ve been kind of seeking her out because, yeah, obviously that feels good and it’s fun and attention from girls is like, i don’t know. it’s kind of validating in a different way, i guess. and dante’s funny to play with because he’s so like, sweet little puppy dog. angel’s kind of a weird one because i’m pretty sure he’s friend zoning me? which is like... not how you survive casa. trying not to take it as a challenge.” another long pause. “okay, yeah! jude’s fucking hot, okay? he’s fucking hot! jesus christ, leave me alone.” 

are there any new islanders you don’t see yourself vibing with?

“i haven’t really chatted with zeke or stella yet, but i don’t know. they both seem fine? i think? it’s different with casa, because like, i don’t really feel like i’m competing with these people.” if anything she feels even more like she’s competing with her OGs. “it’s kind of easier to welcome them than other bombshells because i don’t have to be so like, paranoid. i could just bask in the attention. you know, if i was getting any.” 

do you think that your head could be turned?

“i'll answer if you tell me what josh said.” a pause. “ugh, i don’t know. i can’t see myself like, developing feelings for any of these people, but sometimes... i just need to be touched! like, it’s genuinely as simple as that. i love sex, i love to fuck, and like... i don’t even mean it in a pick-me way or anything like that. i just literally feel like i could explode without someone actively wanting me...” her mind seems to catch up to her mouth, the words dying on her tongue. “whoa, i’m sorry. can you actually scrap that whole thing? i’m sorry, that’s like... i don’t know what i’m saying. i mean, i do but... that doesn’t sound good. i’m just—this is really hard. and i know everyone’s expecting me to mess around in here,” she’s looking at her hands, toying with them on her lap. “and they’re probably right, right? i probably will, knowing me. so why am i even bothering holding out? like, what’s the point of trying if i’m gonna fail anyway? i don’t know. i don’t know!” 

what do you think your ‘other half’ is up to in the other villa right now? how are you feeling about them?

“i kind of imagine he’s sulking like me right now. we’re kind of a similar brand of dramatic, but... who knows. being in a different house than me and naomi is probably like, a whole different kind of freedom, and i bet he looks all tough and rugged with the black eye or whatever. it’d be totally fair if he was messing around over there. maybe in another day or two. i don’t know, i don’t want to say something hopeful and have it overlaid with clips of him hopping into bed with two bombshells on night one. i just... i do hope he’s having fun and i hope i can just not think about it and at the end... maybe we can figure it out. but yeah, i miss him a lot, actually. i think more than i thought i would.” 

[yurtletheturtlehenderson]

can i ask you how our precious girl el is doing today? please?

Forgive me, dear nonnie, I wasn't sure if you meant El or Cosmic!El but either way, I'd be delighted!

(whoops this got away from me. Guess that's to be expected at this point though, lol)

C!El, the sweet pea, is currently in a food coma on the couch, surrounded by her amazing little family. Her mother made enough food to feed a family of bears, and yet between her, her mother, and her two brothers, no one managed to even touch dessert. Actually, her and Will both got pretty close, but if it hadn't been for the little competition between them who could finish first, they wouldn't have filled up so fast. (Jonathan almost regrets accidently putting the idea in their heads). Everyone is excited, though, because the day after tomorrow they'll be flying down to Hawkins to celebrate with loved ones, and plan on staying through New Years. The process will be brutal given its the holidays, but they've been through worse.

Poor joyce, though... Between Jonathan raving about seeing Nancy, Will and El going on and on about seeing the party again (particularly the Wheelers and Hendersons), she hasn't heard anything in the last week from anyone that wasn't about the upcoming trip. She loves it though, she can't remember seeing any of her three kids so happy and it makes her super happy.

ST!El... *season 4 standing behind me with a knife* ...bah, who cares! I'm not looking at it right now so therefore, it does not exist. Believe it or not, this may be the closest to the happiest she's ever been. (Even if we're counting the very end of the finale) she has her family!! Her full family!! Her dad is alive and within her reach, she's got two wonderfully annoying brothers and an amazing, brave mama bear of a mother. All of whom, would do anything to protect her and know she's loved. No matter what El is going through (which is a lot) she makes it her duty to cherish the good she has in her life now and she's holding on and NOT letting go or taking it for granted. Even in between the actual hell on earth madness, I'm positive her and her little family find a way to sneak in even a tiny tiny little bit of holiday spirit. Idc if it's an unspoiled can of beans, there's a gift right there depending on the state of things. Els got every intention of letting her loved ones know how important they are (and yes, of course this includes Max. I like to think she made a little bracelet or something and it fits around her cast and everything 🥺) and they certainly make time to make sure she knows how much they love her. Abysmal times or not, know this: El is so deeply loved.

So yeah, I guess I don't have a straight answer since it's hard to say for sure where it's going, but that's my main belief. She is so loved by her people and she knows it.

This was so heartwarming to think about, thank you for the little prompt of sorts! This kinda thing is always fun! Thanks again dear anon, I hope you are having a very happy holidays and are staying safe, healthy, happy and warm!

💕💕💕 - Yurtle

[vampirememory]

Okay, so hello!! Hope everything is good with you!! Sending this through inbox just because I plan on giving you something in return. I'm thinking maybe a shufflemancy reading with a few poems / quotes to answer your question? I just love shufflemancy so much lmao. Is it okay then if I ask two questions? If not, I understand. But if it *is* okay, I was wondering if I could ask:

Is there any romantic potential between me (S, she/her) and my crush (AF, he/him)? We haven't talked much since the pandemic, but we had a good thing going and I'm wondering if a romantic relationship is in the cards for us / possible at all as of right now.

If there is a romantic potential between me and AF, can I have some advice on how to approach the situation to ensure that it does happen (basically how to reel him in)? Your girl has absolutely NO game lmao, I kind of need all of the help that you are willing to give, haha. I think I have an inkling of what I need to do, but I feel like a reading would help clear things up.

This is really kind of the last time that I want to ask a question about our relationship, so I figured I might as well go all out, right? I promise this isn't one of those delusional "no-contact" crushes, I actually had contact with this dude before an abrupt separation, and we were getting along so swimmingly :( I'm just clarifying because of your "no third parties' rule".

Thank you so much for your time + dedication! If you choose to respond to my ask (you don't have to of course, you always have the choice!) I'll get back to you as soon as possible with a time estimate on how long the shufflemancy + poem / quote reading is going to take. I am also fine with you asking more than one question for your reading :) Hope your day is GREAT!

Also, I have to add that I love this Pokémon infused tarot reading, it's really original and lowkey nostalgic.

Hey! thanks for participating. Since I took so long, it's not required for you to do anything in return but if you'd like to, feel free to message me! apologies if this question is answered too late.

For your first question, your pokemon is: Jellicent

At first, I felt a very nostalgic feeling from this pokemon, it gives cream puff vibes, something sweet, nostalgic, & tasty (I've never had a cream puff so don't @ me). For you, you got the female version of this pokemon but there is a male version as well, and both of their descriptions are equally creepy and sinister? Like two peas in a pod. Maybe you both are toxic in some way and fit together perfectly, but it might not be good in the long-run, being toxic to each other, or when you're together, being toxic to everyone else. It feels like there are some good factors here, but someone will probably end up suffering in some way. Overall, I am seeing you guys having some sort of compatibility, whether that be romantic, familiar (chosen family), or friendship-wise.

For your second question, your pokemon is: Meltan

This is a very weird pokemon for this question, but I think overall you need to be yourself. There is already some compatibility, you know this, now all you have to do is just look inwards and find the confidence to make things happen or drop some hints! The other way is to try and subtly attract him, like be magnetic (this pokemon's ability is magnet pull so quite literally!) but I never suggest anyone to be subtle because lots of people don't get subtle hints (me included oof). Just be yourself, know yourself, and know your person! Do what you know will bring him in.

Thanks for participating! feel free to leave feedback in my ask box.

[pan-phlets]

Tagged by the exquisite @introvertia 💗 and @prettyboyporter 💜💜

Bold your preferences of tropes and AUs, then tag 9 writers or readers!

Coffee shop or flower shop

Alternative universe or fix-it

Enemies to lovers or childhood friends

Angst or fluff

Love at first sight or pining

Modern au or historical au

Soulmate or unrequited

Fake dating or secret dating

Breakup and makeup or proposals and weddings

Get together or established relationship

Oblivious pining or domestic fluff

Hurt/comfort or crack

Meet the parent or meet cute

Tagging @youjustgotlawyered @avalonlights @lymricks @oxbridge-quality-fanfiction-co @rvspberryjvm @coffeeandchemicals @lemonlovely @confettibites @aphroditestummyrolls only if you’d like to of course <33