#the beginning too like i don't know what stuff to have in the first chapter

[hyperions-light]

@datvcompanionweeks Bellara Week Day 6: Archive | Serial

I thought of this idea on the friendship/romance day, but I figured it worked here, too =)

disclaimer I have very little experience with any kind of ballroom dancing lol, I just watched a bunch of videos

Leth says STOP leaving room for Andraste =P

--

Bellara glares at the page, empty for the last hour, as if her frustration will convince it to write itself.

"What's wrong, Bel?" Neve asks, from her place on the couch. "Stuck?"

"A little," Bellara admits. "I don't really know how to write this part."

"What's supposed to happen?" Rook says, leaning over the railing at the top of the stairs.

"Well, it's a ball, so there should be dancing, I think? But I'm not really sure how to describe that— I've never done that sort of dance before."

"You haven't?" Emmrich says, sounding almost scandalized. "Surely someone has invited you?"

"I mean, there's not really any fancy balls in the middle of the forest, Professor," she says. "Do you know how?"

"Of course," he says, rising from his seat. "And I would be delighted to show you, if you would like."

He extends a hand in her direction, and she scrambles to her feet, excitement sparkling in her eyes.

"First, you place your hand here," he says, moving hers into position, "whilst the leader, who shall be I for this demonstration, places their hand on their partner's waist. Then, each takes the other's free hand, and both extend their arms, like so."

He pulls her right hand outward with his left.

"It is important to maintain the proper form and distance between the participants at all times," he instructs, indicating the gap between their bodies.

"What fun is that?" Rook heckles from the balcony. "How is anyone supposed to be passionately entwined with enough room for Andraste between them?"

Emmrich raises an eyebrow.

"I take it the waltz is performed differently in Antiva?"

"When in good company," they say, smiling mischievously. "Lucanis? Care to demonstrate? I know you know how."

"Emmrich is correct about the form, under most circumstances," Lucanis explains, even as he rises from his seat, abandoning his book to the side table. "But in a lot of serials, the style of dance they're describing—"

"Is much more fun," Rook says, putting their hand on Lucanis' waist. "I'll lead!"

Rook stands much closer to Lucanis than Bellara is to Emmrich, she notices, their left hip flush with his right.

"The most basic form of the waltz is the box step," Emmrich continues. "The leading partner steps forward"— he moves his foot toward hers, slowly, and she instinctively moves hers back— "while the following steps back. Very good, Bellara!"

As he takes her through several simple movements, Davrin and Taash push the table and chairs to the sides of the room, their remaining friends forming a small and curious audience around the edge of the library.

"And if you chain all that stuff together," Rook says, "you can do this."

They begin to dance across the room in great, whirling circles; Bellara imagines that if one of them had a cape or a dress, it would be catching the air. She notices that their feet fall extremely close together, when they move; sometimes almost touching one another.

"You'd cause quite a scandal with that in the Necropolis, I expect," Emmrich says, as they glide over the floor, passing close enough that the fabric of Rook's shirt whispers past Bellara's skin.

"Hardly!" Rook laughs. "Tell me, Emmrich: Do they teach the tango, in Nevarra?"

"Rook," Lucanis says, deliberately slowing the pace of the dance so they can talk. "Bellara said it was at a ball."

"It's a fantasy, Lucanis," Rook counters. "Anything goes. And the tango is considered a very passionate dance" —They smirk at Bellara over Lucanis' shoulder, raising their eyebrows suggestively— "perfect for your serials."

"Oh," she gigggles. "That might be good. In the next chapter, the hero is going to seduce their rival into joining their side."

"There's no better dance for it," Rook declares. "I'll show you."

"Rook—"

"Don't worry," they say, over Lucanis. "I'll lead."

Emmrich and Bellara move to the side of the floor, watching as Rook shifts the steps to something sharper, closer; as they move across the floor Rook will often wrap one of their legs around Lucanis', or step directly between his. When they bend him backward they follow him over, bodies near enough they're almost touching.

Bellara doesn't think it's the exercise that's making Lucanis' face progressively redder.

"I still think you should consider the waltz, Bellara," Emmrich says, "it provides an excellent opportunity for introspection, in fiction."

"That's true," Bellara muses, "but look how close Rook and Lucanis are, right now! Don't you think it would make things more… intense?"

It's almost like Rook is teasing him, with all the quick steps in and sharp little turns; the way they push him across the room, hips and chest pressed up against him.

"Perhaps," he concedes, "but it seems a rather difficult dance to execute with an unfamiliar partner."

Rook pulls Lucanis against themself, faces so close their noses are almost touching. They're both still for a moment, like that, before Rook drops their hand from his waist, and turns to Bellara, smiling.

"Maybe they should waltz first, and then tango?" Rook suggests. "Then you can ramp up the tension as the night goes on."

"Oh, that's a great idea, Rook!" Bellara says, clapping her hands together, excitedly. She turns to go find her notebook, but finds Neve already there, handing it to her.

"But it feels kind of strange for the hero to immediately find the rival," she says, scribbling quick notes on Rook's dance. "It's a masquerade, so I don't know if they'd recognize her right away?"

"Usually the night begins with a group dance," Emmrich says. "Might that be a good way for them to be acquainted?"

"There's one that's popular in Minrathous right now that might work," Neve chimes in. "I can show you, but we'll need everyone."

"Is it the circles one, Neve?" Rook asks, as Lace, Taash, and Davrin rise from their seats.

"Les Moulinets, Rook?" Emmrich asks, fond amusement in his voice.

"Yeah, that. Is it that one?"

Neve confirms it is, and instructs Davrin, Lace, Taash, and Bellara to form a tight circle, walking clockwise around a central point. The other four make a circle around the outside, and walk counter-clockwise.

"Now, reverse," Neve calls, after several rotations, changing the circles' directions.

"Aaaand find your partner," Rook calls, after a bit. Bellara reaches out to find Neve extending her hand.

"Hi, Neve!"

"Hey, Bel," Neve says, smiling as she puts a hand on Bellara's waist. "Dance with me?"

"Of course!"

They waltz carefully around the room, Bellara watching their feet and trying to remember all the things Emmrich had shown her.

"You're doing fine," Neve reassures. "Don't worry so much."

"But what if I step on your foot?"

"I think I'll live," Neve says, wry.

"Getting stepped on while dancing is good for you," Rook calls, whirling past them with Davrin, Assan romping unhelpfully in their wake. "Builds character!"

"Besides, don't you want to be able to see the others?" Neve asks. "For research."

"Oh, you're right!" she says, looking up immediately.

She watches her friends negotiating the dance with one another; how they modify the positions for height differences, or loosely interpret the rules Emmrich had provided. She kind of thinks it looks better like that, somehow— more fun.

"Hey, Bellara," Rook says from the other side of the room. "Why don't you have them do one of the group dances we do at the Arlathvhen? Those are always fun!"

"Those usually have a lot of props, though," Bellara says, frowning a little. "I don't know if they'd be good for fancy parties."

"What about the one with the ribbons?" Davrin suggests. "They should have those."

"They would!" Rook says, breaking away from the dance. "I'll get some, now, and we can test it."

They race off up the stairs, disappearing into their room as the others move apart, returning to the furniture for a break. Bellara grabs her notebook again to write down all the little things she'd noticed, that time; the way Emmrich's coat had flared out on the turns, and how Rook's feet had seemed to almost slide across the floor, frictionless.

"What does this dance entail?" Emmrich asks Davrin.

"You pair up, and each pair has a ribbon between them, that they hold over their heads," he explains. "You stretch them out, so they form a kind of tunnel."

"One of the dancers in the pair that's farthest back," Rook picks up as they come down the stairs, arms laden with colorful scarves, "wraps the end of it around their waist, and spins toward their partner, until the ribbon is wound around them, entirely."

"Then they dance together through the tunnel," Bellara says, taking the yellow scarf that Rook holds out to her, "Until they reach the front— then, they unwind, and join the line, again!"

"C'mon, Bellara," Rook says, pulling her up from the couch. "Let's demonstrate."

Davrin lines everyone up correctly, and they take the last spot in line; Bellara spins the sash around herself, Rook catching her waist at the end.

"Want to try the waltz, again?" They ask, taking her hand and extending it.

"Sure!" she says, even as they're already leading her in those big, sweeping circles, getting way closer to the other dancers than usual.

"I'm going to lift you," Rook says, as they come to the end of the tunnel. Before she has time to really process it, they grab her waist and spin her around in the air, startling laughter from her.

"Why don't you take notes," they suggest, when they put her down, "and I'll go play wolf?"

Sometimes, when there are an uneven number of dancers, one person will take the role of Fen'Harel (weird to think about, now), and dart in and out of the lines, stealing partners and causing chaos— a perfect role for Rook.

She sends them off, grabbing her notebook, again, and trying to do some brief sketches of the way everyone looks as they dance their way down the tunnel. She wants to capture the way they each hold themselves; how they lead and follow one another.

True to her prediction, Rook is very effective at causing chaos. They steal Emmrich's place at the end of Neve's ribbon at the last second, tangoing her up the tunnel to switch her out with Davrin, leaving her paired with Lucanis. Their antics are met with mock-irritation and some good-natured shoving, but everyone takes being shuffled about by the wolf in stride.

"Does your hero need to do anything else at the ball, Bellara?" they ask, as they take Lace's place and whirl into Taash's arms. "Masquerades are really good for information gathering."

"Well, they're mostly there to find the bard, but I guess it could be a good place to set up the part later where they discover the plot to murder the king? Oh, they could overhear something one of the other guests is saying!"

"It should be vague," Lucanis says, he and Neve stepping into the farthest spot in the line. "Something the hero won't understand right away. Conspirators rarely declare their intentions in public."

"Maybe not the smart ones," Neve says, catching him by the waist. "You wouldn't believe what the Venatori will say in front of people."

"Some nobles can be quite indiscreet," Emmrich chimes in, taking a lilting step towards the back with Davrin.

"Hm, maybe… they could say something that's kind of suspicious, then? Something that makes the hero want to investigate, but doesn't give the whole thing away," she muses aloud, the end of her pen resting against her lower lip.

"Once, I heard a noble say they were going to this really cheap place for dinner," Rook says, grabbing the end of Lucanis' ribbon as Neve retreats to the couches for a break. "Which was obviously very suspicious, but nobody else at the party knew the name of the place so they just thought it was normal. Maybe something like that?"

"That could work!" she says, jotting it down. "I'd need to write a scene where the hero follows that up…"

She keeps scribbling as her friends throw ideas out based on their own adventures. Davrin stops to draw her a diagram, eventually. Emmrich comes over to explain the proper arrangement of silverware. Everyone crowds around the couch with Bellara in the center, giving her more information than she could find in a hundred hours of reading; showering her with the details of their experiences.

She has a feeling this chapter's going to be perfect.

[formylovetodaryldixon]

"Paper Cuts." CH2—Daryl Dixon.

Chapter summary: Just when you thought the date had been a disaster and it was all over, Daryl shows up on the night of your birthday.

A/N: Hi!!! A heartfelt thank you to those who liked the first chapter and who asked to be tagged. There will be more dialogue later, but I needed to put this this way for what comes next. This is probably something Daryl wouldn't do, taking him out of character, but I feel like even though he's an adult, this would be his first time experiencing things he didn't experience when he was younger, those first times, so he does some things to be with you hihi. I loved writing this even tho i feel it cheesy. But thank you, really!! Intro Chapter 1

When you lean against the open window of his red pickup truck, the wind makes your hair dance, pushing it back in messy but free strands.

However, the whole ride back, you keep wondering why you feel things before they happened, before they even began, or when everything is about to end, like an extra sense you were born with and that warned you about stuff. Your grandpa used to tell you that you over-felt everything around you: and that was a problem, a curse, or a blessing; right now you don't know which exactly.

That's how you know everything is going to end that night.

You feel how the rising nerves that had accompanied you all day, the ones that made you feel like your body was on fire the moment you saw Daryl at noon, leaning against the passenger door of his red truck (looking in the opposite direction from you), his strong bare arms crossed over his chest and an expression he seemed to be used to wearing, perhaps to scare away the entire world, all seem to have evaporated as the imminent end approaches. That feeling inside you that seemed alive was extinguished when it was time to return home, making everything as cold as his attitude.

What you don't know is why.

Daryl Dixon was an expert at encapsulating his feelings and emotions after being scolded for showing them with the innocence of a child when he was a kid, that stupid happiness over something so small or too much sadness over something his parents said was pointless, until time and blows made him understand that the most smart thing to do (to avoid the screaming and the physical and mental pain) was to not show even the slightest hint that he actually felt anything until Daryl truly thought he was rid of them, that life was okay with feeling numb, like living anesthetized, that's why having run into you was like hitting a wall when his motorcycle was going at the limit of humanly possible. Being around you almost half the day had been confusing as hell, hours in which Daryl spent paying attention, but wondering internally if what he felt inside him was good or not.

He had forgotten what it was like to feel for so long that now he didn't know how to differentiate between good and bad.

Daryl had never asked anyone out, too afraid to even ask (pretending to dislike the subject, that the mere thought of it repulsed him and that dating was a waste of time) when in reality, his own mind told him no one would say yes to him with his loving personality as his brother used to call it. Perhaps that's why, for him, seeing you there, sitting almost next to him, makes him feel like when Daryl was a child and night fell on the Fourth of July, with colored lights turning the black sky into a colorful spectacle. He had never thought about that again since he stopped being a child, until today. The excitement, the longing, and the happiness that came with it because something happened afterward that and his mind keeps blurring it, something that made his dad angry, which led to the first scar.

The car's engine stops as he parks where he last did. However, your goodbye is cut short long before it even begins.

"Is yer dad home?"

Confusion hits you, making you shake your head first.

“No. He doesn’t come home on Saturdays.”

Daryl clears his throat; he has to just to find his deep, low voice.

“Lemme walk ya there.”

You nod, though confusing thoughts swirl through your head like a rampaging whirlwind as you open the door to get out. Even the wind seems to have stopped, silencing the world around you, but you walk beside him as if silence really were his best friend when it used to drive you crazy, feeling the need to fill it somehow.

“You told me at the bar the other night that because of my tattoos I was studying to be a vet, or wanted to be one, remember?” The concrete path between the bushes on either side shortens with each step, and Daryl nods when your gaze rests on his for a moment. “You were right about that. I tried, I really tried to be one because that had been my dream my whole life, but when I walked into that lab full of dead animals, I realized there’s a damned chasm between wanting something with all your heart and knowing in your mind that you can do something or not. It’s always a fucking struggle between the mind and the heart, even when people tell you they’re just organs.” You chuckle, stopping a few steps from your front door. “What I mean is, you said I looked like someone who knows what she wants so I want to tell you that took me a long while. And when you told me that you don’t know what you were looking for, I wanted to tell you that it’s okay not to know... okay?”

There’s no ulterior motive this time, but Daryl can’t help but look you up and down as if a full view of you would tell him everything he wanted to know about you at that very second. Yet it’s overwhelming the way he has to nod first to stall for time, too.

“It was nice meetin' ya, (Y/N).”

You smile.

“Yeah. I feel the same.”

He leaves. Daryl has to because his emotions seem to be running out of space inside his body, but his steps are just a few as everything stops. You had to mention it, he thinks bitterly, his inability to know, hating the way you could see right through him like a fucking crystal and easily know that he still didn't know what he wanted from this fucking life, if he wanted to end it or continue until his body stopped working on its own. Though it's even stranger to Daryl how he allowed only you the audacity to see his vulnerability and say it out loud, but maybe feeling things isn't so bad after all, not when he's with you at least.

"Fuck it." He curses under his breath before turning around, taking quick steps back to reach you a second before the key in your hand connects with the door, his hand sliding around your waist, just enough to make you turn back to him as your gaze returns to rest on his. “Can I jus'… kiss ya goodbye?”

The confusion is there, but you nod as your bodies move closer together automatically. His free hand rests on your warm cheek, your own hands on his arms for something to hold onto (the key still between your fingers) eyes close as his lips press against yours. It's only a few seconds as his mouth moves against yours, mingling in the heat, but stopping before reaching the peak of intensity, only to leave afterward. You stay there for a long moment, glancing up at the sky in search of the brightest star because your grandpa used to say that when he was gone, not even death would be able to dim his light. You squint in reproach that he's not there to mock you at least, but when you finally enter your house, the cold walls welcome you until you take your first step into the kitchen at the back.

“Hi, baby.” Always a loving greeting from your brother, oblivious to everything as he continues cooking dinner and the smell is already evident. “Where have you been?”

You can come up with a thousand lies, and Austin would believe them because he trusted you blindly; but you don’t want to do that to him.

“A guy asked me out…” You chuckle when he pauses with the knife in his hand to look at you with a confused expression, but you shake your head. “Nothing’s going to happen, Austin. It all ended outside.”

He nods sadly because your sadness was his own, always.

“I’m sorry, baby. Was he something important? Someone I know?”

“You don’t know him, but it's okay.”

“Maybe it’s because he knows who Dad is.”

“He said he didn't mind that, but it's okay, really.” You shrug. “I'll go upstairs. Please let me know when dinner's ready.”

Austin nods, watching you go.

You'd always felt you had the heart of a writer, inherited from your grandmother when she had been the only one in the family who had dared to pursue any kind of art. The path to achieving a new dream had been somewhat unsteady and full of small rocks, invisible traps that threatened to trip you up, but it all ended the moment you realized that was the one thing your dad couldn't take from you: at least that is harmonious, an infinite palette of colors when everything else was monochromatic, especially your nonexistent love life. You knew you should put the experience with Daryl aside, but you couldn't help but compare it to the paragraph in one of your books where a door always opens to let a person in or just greet them at the entrance before closing it.

Funny that right now, the door to your house is open with music pouring out to celebrate your older brother's birthday, and yours.

The memory of your dad not being home on Saturdays still lingers in his mind as Daryl steps inside, the shadows of the hallway as a perfect cover. To his left, the living room is the heart of the party, and the pounding of the sound system seems to blend with his racing heart. This is a stupid idea, he tells himself as Daryl tries to search for you in a sea of ​​people, but it's funny how everything seems to align in his favor the moment your best friend stops in the hallway on her way out, taking a second, as if they're recognizing each other without ever having formally met.

Sami smiles when Daryl wordlessly lifts the gift in his hands (as if that explains everything)

"Up the hall to the left, last door at the end."

He nods his thanks as she leaves.

"Jus' give her the fuckin' gift and go." Daryl repeats himself softly like a mantra as he walks up the crescent-shaped stairs. The empty walls make him feel as if the house isn't inhabited, but it's a reminder of his own home until Daryl stops in the two-way hallway. "(Y/N)?"

His voice is loud enough for only you to hear.

"Over here!"

Daryl lets out a laugh, wondering why as your voice guides him to the end of the left hallway, right to the last room with an open door. However, he swallows the lump in his throat when Daryl realizes he's actually come this far, but the first step he takes inside stops him abruptly when you appear on the other side, bumping his body with yours, your hands in the air protectively.

"What?" Your eyes widen slightly when you see him standing in front of you, your brow furrowing with the weight of surprise—or shock. "I thought you were my brother... What are you doing here, Daryl?"

"I..." His own surprise stops him when Daryl slides his gaze down your entire body, his brain grinding to a halt when he realizes you're wearing knee-high leather boots and that your long legs seem to be hidden beneath that baggy brown cardigan, all while your best friend's voice returning to your mind with her mocking tone: the man from the bar?! He was checking you out, from head to toe, and there was nothing innocent about it. But faster than a bullet, his gaze snapped back to you with an awkward sound in his throat. “Shit, sorry. I jus' came to…”

Awkwardly, Daryl shows you the gift in his hands.

"And you dared to come all the way up here?"

"Yer friend told me the way."

"I'm sure she did."

Nothing makes sense to you, but you laugh anyway; you can't help it.

“You're confusing, Daryl Dixon, but you're lucky to be handsome.” Something stirs inside him at the sound of your laughter and your words, but just as your hands reach for the small, gift-wrapped box, you hear your brother's voice coming down the long hallway, calling you by your usual nickname. “Come in, come in.”

Daryl allows himself to be guided as you close the door with you both inside, so gently that there's no sound when you lock the deadbolt.

“Are you okay, love?”

“Yeah! I just…” You squint, searching for an excuse, but your mind goes blank because there's only one reason. “I wanted to take a shower before bed, okay?”

“Are you sure you don't want to go downstairs for a bit?”

“No. Sami left so no.”

“Uh, okay. Good night.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

You hear Austin retreat, but you have to take a deep breath before you dare turn around, wondering how the hell you got into that situation.

“We're going to pretend you didn't hear anything for my peace of mind, okay?”

For a second, his brain does seem unsettled as Daryl nods, his expression as innocent as he doesn't know how to react to everything going on right now: him being in your room, hearing you call him handsome, seeing you dressed like that, and how his wayward mind keeps thinking about you saying you're going to take a shower.

"I think ya broke ma fuckin' mind." His frown appears and disappears the moment you laugh, taking the gift from him to walk away.

"What a strange compliment." You roll your eyes. Daryl stands there for a moment admiring the place. It's small and tidy, but it feels like you, as if your entire home is in there, dark with the only nightlight coming in through the open window. There's a huge bookshelf built into the sides of the rectangular seat in the center, and then a small balcony. "Want to sit until the coast is clear, maybe?"

He nods.

“Have ya read all of these?” Daryl gestures to the entire collection of books, then sits closer than he was trying to, his body pointed toward yours.

“Yeah.”

He blinks, looking as innocent as he could be.

“There must be over 100.”

“Uh, 118, to be exact.” You chuckle at the way he frowns again, but this time as if he’s wordlessly calling you crazy, and you think he seems more handsome when he lets at least a hint of his emotions show. “I don’t think I told you I liked reading that much.”

“Guess no.” Daryl takes a deep breath, not prepared at all for that moment. “Listen, I jus' wanted to apologize for the way I acted that night. I know I told ya I don’ do the girlfriend thing, but the truth is, I never did it either. An' I suck with words, really.”

You nod gently.

“So why are you here?” You’re confused, and he can see that clearly.

He shrugs, as if it all means little.

“Ya told me the only reason ya liked yer birthday was 'cause ya an' yer brother were born on the same day but I think s' only fair that ya get a present, too.”

And though Daryl tries to downplay his own reasons, his words fill the void left by your grandfather’s departure and his rightful way of celebrating both of your birthdays.

“Thank you, Daryl, this means a lot.” You smile, but the silence isn’t awkward as you look down for a moment to play with the red ribbon on the small box in front of you. “Can I open it now, or would you prefer I do it later?”

“Dunno. I don’ even know if ya’ll like it.”

You frown, but Daryl can see the playful smile on your face as you pull at the ribbon.

“I’m sure I’ll like it.”

His own nerves seem to rise to the point of his pulse racing as Daryl watches you open the gift, finding a Polaroid camera, blue like your favorite color. Surprise and confusion make you pause to stare at it for a moment, but your silence is a bad sign and the impulse that drives him to apologize.

“Shit, (Y/N), I don’—”

“No! I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Your hand moves in the air to stop his concern and the guilt you see in his eyes. “I just… I didn’t think you were listening when I said I wanted something to take pictures with.”

A nervous smile tugs at one side of his lip.

“I was listenin'.”

You nod, trying to make sense of the situation, but everything rushes back—life, the feelings around him—and it’s as confusing as the signals he’s sending you.

“Thank you, Daryl, like, really. This is really the best gift someone gave me. And I wanna say you’re more thoughtful than you let on, you know?” Daryl snorts when he sees the way you tease him while meaning every word. Yet there’s something about the way your smile slowly fades that he knows he won’t like. “Sorry to ruin the moment, but I don’t understand why you’re here because you said goodbye that night, like you meant it. And I mean, it’s okay, really, it’s just…”

It's like a punch to the gut, the way you don't say anything else, but Daryl can't help but frown, a swift and almost dangerous frustration building inside him. Because part of the reason he's lived without feeling anything for so many years was because Daryl used to feel everything so quickly when it was all about the bad, because nothing in his messed-up life was good.

"What ya mean by that, huh? Why ya always say s' okay? What's okay? That I walked away that night or that m' here now?"

Your lips part slightly to say something, but you close them again. For his part, what Daryl expects to happen (what he's used to, more accurately: is that you'll equalize his frustration, or that you'll argue with him pointlessly) never happens. And it's not that Daryl wants that to happen, not with you, not ever, but it's all he knows.

“Look, I…” The way you sigh with overwhelming calm is more confusing to him than the fog of an argument, but it all disappears with your laughter. “Shit, I don't even know what I meant anymore. My point is, I need you to tell me what you want. If you tell me what you're looking for, whether it's a relationship, a fling, or something in between, I need you to tell me, and I'll tell you if I'm looking for that too. Maybe we can even come to an agreement.”

This time, when Daryl swallows, it's a little loud in the silence between you two, but he doesn't care anymore when you're the one who opened up the possibility of anything or everything, to that scary chance for him to have feelings for you.

“Ya'd be okay with being jus' a fling?” His voice is a whisper, somewhat incredulous, but when you nod, Daryl knows you can’t just be that, that there was nothing wrong with it, but not you, not something temporary, something that lasts only a moment. Yet he lets a short laugh, and a part of him laughs bitterly because a part of him still resists the absurd idea of ​​something as silly as starting to feel something significant with you. “Yer confusin' as hell, woman.”

You laugh sarcastically.

“Ironic coming from you.”

Daryl smirks, his hand finding your cheek as his thumb slides across your lip, a second before he leans forward to press his mouth against yours again. He really, really didn't want anything new in his life, but at the same time, Daryl wants to keep hearing your voice, which filled with life when you talked about something you loved, because Daryl would listen attentively to every word you spoke, every bit of happiness hidden in the way you expressed yourself about something that is a part of you, wondering to himself what it would feel like to love something so much that it fills his empty soul, that it makes him wish for another day, to want to do something for a long time because passion blocked out all the bad that could come.

What his mind hadn't yet conceived was the idea that that something would be a person.

If you don't want to be tag, please let me know :) It's okay, promise!

@spookygothmommy @walkingtalkingsomething @m1nda0 @fluffy-dixon @stunkbiggu @kurogxrix @ffsjustletmesleep @kaz11283 @daryldixmedown @enretrogue @confusebiassbitch @onlyrealjoy @secretlettersfromyourlove @chateaujoon

[thebearer]

making the bed |carmen berzatto x reader| part one

prompt: carmen's stressed. food critics, a newborn baby, balancing work life and married life and now dad life; he's bound to break, everyone knows it. but no one ever thought he'd lash out on you.

or, part one of the devastation fic. based off this ask from the other day. two more parts to come.

contains: mega angst. mega angst, with no resolution in this part. hurt, no comfort (in this chapter, will be later in part 3). mean!carmen, very mean. mom!reader x dad!carmen with newborn teddy. fighting, language, carmen says mean stuff he doesn't mean. past mentions of trauma, family trauma, mikey mentioned. very angsty and a little heavy, please read at your own discretion. word count- 3.5k+.

"Are you ok?"

Carmen now understood why that phrase used to send Donna into such a blind rage, lips pursing and jaw clenching more and more every time he heard it. First at work, then with you, it felt never ending.

It was beginning to feel like critic season with how many were coming in, snooty and demanding to be impressed. It couldn't have come at a worst time, right in the middle of busy season with the start of the holidays. Days at The Bear were filled with frantic panic, running around, making sure everything was perfect, accounted for, and Carmen always had the sinking feeling it wasn't- that he'd forgotten something, messed something up. 

It wasn't rare for him to work himself up like this, a normal that you always warned him about, but he'd always had a solitude. As long as he'd known you, he'd had a place to go, to unwind, to let himself rest and reset with you. And he still did, it was just shared now with a newborn.

Dorothea Michelle. Teddy, for short. The light of his life, yours too. Nearly two months old with a set of lungs that sounded much louder, much more developed than that. Nights were long, sleepless, spent trying to lull Teddy back to sleep, awake even if he wasn't up with her. Carmen couldn't allow himself the selfishness to relax, to rewind, to "take it easy" like everyone told him to. At work, he was the boss; at home, he was a dad.

"Fuck, fuck," Carmen's sleepy stare was broken by a lick of bubbling heat, the lamb's roux popping with the high heat, splashing all over Carmen's chef whites.

"Jeff, c'mon," Tina clicked, shaking her head, moving the pan to lower heat. "What're you doin'?"

Carmen grit his teeth, snatching a rag off the stainless steel counter tops, scrubbing the burgundy stain, huffing when it only spread the stain.

"What happened?" Sydney turned, looking from the burnt sauce to Carmen's stained chef shirt. "Oh,"

"Do we have a spare coat?" Carmen huffed, throwing the rag down with a firm smack against the counter.

"I don't think so, Carm." Sydney shook her head. "You took the last ones home with you two days ago. The wine-"

"-I know, Chef, I know." Carmen snapped, running a hand through his hair. "Fuck, I-I can't fuckin' serve the critics lookin' like this. With shit all over me- fuck."

"Hey, easy, easy," Richie turned the corner, his hands held up. "What's goin' on?"

"Jeff got sauce over him. He doesn't have any clean clothes." Tina muttered, irritated that she had to fix his mess, more irritated that he wasn't taking care of himself. You have a baby, Jeff, you need to rest and take some time, she'd told him. Carmen only waved her off.

"Okay, okay, hey, that's no problem." Richie's voice raised, lifting over Carmen's. "You go home and change, get your spare, check on my beautiful goddaughter, and then come back with your A game. Yes?"

Carmen didn't even humor him with a snarky remark, yanking his coat off and stomping towards the office to grab his things. Richie and Tina looked at each other, shaking their head gently.

"Kids runnin' thin, T." Richie muttered with a sigh. "He's gonna break. It's gonna be bad."

"Yeah, he is. Gonna wear himself out before then." Tina shook her head. "Jeff needs a vacation." They both jumped at the slamming of the backdoor, Carmen's angry exit shaking the foundation.

"Needs to be fuckin' medicated. Fuckin' lunatic." Richie scoffed, rolling his eyes at Carmen's dramatics.

The drive home was filled with silence, Carmen's iron grip on the wheel, tearing through the traffic towards the house- his house, his home. 

Home, but it didn't provide the same comfort that it usually did. Carmen's shoulders still stayed tense, buzzing with rage, not dissipating when he thought of you, or of Teddy, knowing you'd both be there, excited to see him. 

You jumped at the sound of the car door slamming, peeking out the window to see Carmen's parked next to yours, furiously stomping up the front steps. You frowned, grabbing the baby monitor, walking towards the front door.

Carmen nearly hit you with how fiercely he flung the door open. "Woah," You reached for the door, stopping it before he could flick it shut. "Carm, don't slam it. Teddy's asleep. I just got her down." You frowned at him, shutting it slowly.

Carmen looked at you but didn't speak, looking through you with a rage that had your spine tingling before he finally broke his gaze, stomping towards the laundry room. "Carm? What’re you doing home? Don’t you have dinner soon?" You hesitated slightly, lingering in the doorway with an uncertainty you hadn’t felt with Carmen before. 

Carmen didn’t answer, his jaw still ground tight while he rummaged through the clean clothes, carelessly unfolding and shifting the folded clothes.

"Carmen," You said more firmly, caching his gaze. He didn't speak still, just stared at you- through you. "Are you ok?" You lifted a brow, features softening in worry.

Carmen paused, eyes closing, shoulders tensing in agitation. Are you ok? His ears rang, a familiar rage that he hadn't felt in years bubbling up deep in his chest. Frustrated and blinding and rampant, heat rushing through his veins, pulling himself further and further from reality into someplace different- someplace darker in his mind. 

"What's wrong?" You pressed, he could barely hear it, ears ringing at your question. "Did something happen? Did the critic come-"

"-Where's my chef whites?" Carmen barked, cutting you off, his chest tightening more and more with every heavy heave of his chest. You flinched at his tone.

"Uh, I-I haven't seen the whites. I washed your white tee-"

“-You what? Y-You what?” Carmen spat, eye widening with a wild, raged glint in his eye. Your stomach flipped and fell with fear, stepping back instinctively. 

“I-I washed your tee, Carm, that’s all that you left in the laundry basket-” 

"-Are you fucking kidding me?" Carmen boomed, his head spinning, body buzzing with rage. Your breath hitched, frozen in fear at the anger in his tone, the roar of his voice bouncing off the walls, echoing through your ears in a painful drum. 

Carmen moved, snatching the dirty clothes basket, dumping it into the ground with a shake until the dirty chef coat fell on top. He gripped the basket, flinging it across the room with a hard throw. The final push to his bad mood that sent him right over the edge, crashing into a pit of blinding fury, aggravation, breaking him from the inside out.

"Fuck!" Carmen roared, his voice shaking the walls, your breath leaving your lungs in a trembling exhale of fear. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! This is- This is- Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me?” 

You tensed in shock, gripping the baby monitor in fear, maybe surprise, as it started to buzz to life with Teddy's startled whimpers. Her small cries pulled you out of your frozen state, something deeper than fear replacing the ache in your stomach. 

"Carmen-" You gaped, voice wobbling with uncertainty, taking slow shuffled steps towards the stairs. “Carmen, calm-calm down. Ok? Calm down.” 

“Calm down? You want me to fuckin’ calm down?” Carmen sneered, an angry red flush blossoming in splotchy deep hues up his neck, towards his cheeks. “You don’t do shit, nothin’ that I fuckin’ ask for! Just sit around all fuckin’ day an-and I’m supposed to calm down?” 

“Carmen,” Your voice wobbled, throat tight with tears, hurt and fear strangling your words. “I-You didn’t ask me to wash them. I-I didn’t know. They weren’t in the hamper-” 

“-I shouldn’t have to ask you to wash them!” Carmen roared, eyes so wide you thought they might pop right out of his head, neck vein protruding on exemplifying his rage. “You know what I’m going through! You know how much fuckin’ stress I’m under! I go to that-that shit hole, an-and work my fuckin’ ass off so you don’t have to! Then I come home, and I-I can’t even get a second of peace!” 

“Stop,” You hiss, finally regaining your composure, his words fully sinking into you  now, feeling the full effect of them. “I-I just had a baby. I’m still on maternity leave taking care of a baby- our baby, and I’m tired too. But I’m not yelling at you-” 

“-Oh, right. Right.” Carmen laughs sarcastically, humorless as he runs his hand down his face. It felt mocking, left you feeling small and too vulnerable for your liking. “Because in between your napping an-and feeding, you couldn’t stick a fucking jacket in the wash, right? You’re so busy.”  

“What is wrong with you?” You snap, hoping he can’t hear the tears in your voice, the way your voice shakes with emotion. 

“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with me?” Carmen scoffs, throwing his hands out. “I get no fuckin' sleep, go work my fuckin' ass off, a-and then I come home so I can go back and work my ass off some more, and-and you can’t do one simple fuckin’ thing? You can’t help me out? And then you wanna know what’s wrong with me? When you sit on your ass all fuckin’ day-” 

Teddy’s piercing wail pulls you out of your shocked trance, nose and throat burning with hurt filled tears you refuse to shed. Instead, you turn, climbing the stairs on shaky legs, the sound of Teddy’s cries growing louder and louder. Anchovy watches you from the top of the stairs, sensing the tension, your upset, sliding against your leg as if to comfort you. 

Carmen scoffs, hands buzzing and trembling with rage, the ringing in his ears growing louder and louder with each of your footsteps on the stairs and down the hall. He can barely hear Teddy’s sobs, hands threading through his hair, pulling at his scalp. He sees you walk towards the bedroom, quickly, hugging Teddy to your chest. 

“Oh, don’t go fuckin’ do it now!” Carmen roared, your ignoring him only infuriating him further. “It won’t be ready in time now. I’ll just look like a fuckin’ idiot for the critic tonight! Not that you care! Why would you, huh? I-I mean just our livelihood, just our fuckin’ income!” 

You swallowed back your tears, head tilting towards the ceiling, hands shaking with every shove of your things into the overnight bag. Just enough to get you through the night, the next day. A few essentials, Teddy’s spare onesies, a charger, your wallet- you stopped mid-shove of your items into the weekender bag, the sun’s rays catching in your wedding ring. Your heart fell, more and more, you weren’t sure how that was even possible. 

Carmen’s furious voice was still booming from downstairs, ringing and shaking in his furious fit. Richie and Sugar both warned you about Carmen’s tantrums, brought them up to embarrass him, tease him about it until he was red faced and hissing hushed threats at them. You never, never in your wildest dreams thought you’d be on the receiving end of one. 

You jumped, another slam of something Carmen had thrown, maybe hit in a fit of rage, causing Teddy to wail louder, Anchovy skittering nervously away. Tears leaked out of your eyes, twisting the ring off your finger, setting it on Carmen’s bedside table. Pulling the carrier out of the closet, Anchovy got in much easier than usual, which you were thankful for. 

Carmen was gripping the marble of the countertop when he heard you again, walking from the bottom of the stairs, quick steps towards the door to the garage, Teddy’s voice nearly hoarse from her crying. You kept your head high, tunnel-visioned towards your car, ignoring his heavy breathing and frantic pacing. 

“Wha-What are you doin’?” Carmen’s voice was softer now, still with a jagged edge that was cutting and harsh. The car door opened, the baby carrier hooked into the car seat. 

“Hey, wha- what are you- where’re you goin’? What’re you doin’?” Carmen’s heart dropped in a damning rush of hour, stumbling on heavy legs towards the garage. You ignored him, shushing Teddy gently, running a calming hand over her wet cheek, trying to coax her paci into her mouth. 

“Baby, no-no, no. Hey, no, I-I- What-” Carmen’s chest felt tight, mind numbing and racing, stuttering nervously. You reached for your bag, his hand reaching to grab the strap. “Whe-Where’re you-”

“-Don’t touch me.” You hissed, teeth bared, eyes shining with tears. Carmen flinched, pulling his hand back like he’d touched a hot stove. “Don’t you dare fucking touch me.” You sneered, pinning him with a watery glare that had his stomach turning in sickening fear. 

“Baby, hey, w-wait-C’mon, d-don’t-You don’t, you don’t need to do this, ok? I-I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Carmen choked out the words, frantic and unsure, his hands shaking when they ghosted over you back just for a moment. Wanting to touch you, to hold you, to grab you and keep you from leaving, but too scared to. Instead, he grabbed the car door you flung open, holding it when you tried to yank it closed. 

“Let go.” You hissed, sniffling back wet, snotty tears of fury and hurt. 

“Please, don’t-do-don’t do this. Please, baby, I-I’m sorry.” Carmen begged, blue eyes deepening with the burning red hues of tears, bloodshot and lashes wet. “Don’t-Don’t do this-” 

“-I didn’t do this.” You sneered, leaving Carmen flinching at your words. “Don’t you dare try to say this was me. After how you just talked to me? The shit you said to me in there? You think I’m going to stay?” Your voice cracked with emotion, lips pressing together to keep a cry in. 

“No, no, no, no, no, baby, please. Please, ju-just come inside. Come inside, please? Please, don’t-” 

“You don’t get to talk to me like that. To say that kinda stuff to me. That hurt, Carmen. That was mean.” You glared at him, tears leaking out of the corner of his eyes. “I don’t care if you’re stressed. I don’t care what’s going on- nothing, and I mean nothing, warrants you talking to me like that. Just because you fucked up, because you forgot to ask me to do it, because you’re stressed out- I don’t care what it is. You don’t talk to me like that, say those things when I’ve been home all day taking care of my ch- our child.” You nod back towards the sniffling baby, whimpering and crying half heartedly, her little eyelids drooping with sleep that was interrupted. 

Carmen felt sick, his knees tightening in fear, he was sure they might give out, that he might fall to the ground right there. Looking at the tiny baby, lip jutted and shaking in the mirror hooked on the back of the seat, then back at you, eyes red-rimmed and glaring at him with a hurt filled anger. 

“Don’t-” Carmen’s chest shook, a white-knuckled grip on the door. 

Your own hand curled around the door’s inner handle, yanking it away from him. “Move,” You hissed, pulling again. 

Carmen wasn’t sure why he let it go, why he let you shut it, locking the door in case he tried to open it again. Why he let you pull out of the driveway, why he didn’t stop you, why he didn’t run after you, only taking soft shuffles down the drive like a zombie as you drove away. Standing in the drive, Carmen swallowed down the spit that pooled in his mouth, stomach churning, sure he was going to be sick. 

He managed to trudge back to the garage, mind racing and far away, the ringing in his ears dulling but still deafening. It felt like he was in a dream- a nightmare, a hallucinating trance that felt like a sick, sick dream- Carmen was hoping it was. That he’d wake up and find you next to him asleep. That he could hug you, pull you into him, nose buried in your neck, still warm from your slumber. 

As the sun began to sink low into the sky, minutes turning into hours that Carmen sat motionless in the garage, staring in a trancelike state, he realized that this wasn’t a dream or a nightmare. No this was his reality, a horrific reality that he’d made into his own. Carmen sat, eyes trained on the concrete of the garage, voice racing and blending in his mind- his words, yours, Teddy’s cries, Natalie and Richie’s, flashbacks of his mother screaming fits. 

He didn’t move, frozen in chilling, eerie fear. What ifs and terrifying possible scenarios, consequences to his own actions that left him feeling sick, hands trembling. A spiraling of fears that only drug him deeper and deeper with every haunting replay of his outburst. Even the flashing of headlights turning into the driveway, filling the garage with light, didn’t pull him from his trance. 

“The fuck is he- Cousin!” Richie roared, laying on the horn. Carmen didn’t move, didn’t acknowledge that he heard it, only stared. Richie frowned, turning the car off, throwing the door open. 

“Cousin? Carm? What-What are you doin’? Dinner service started an hour ago. Syd is freakin’ the fuck out.” Richie threw his hands up, walking towards the man who still didn’t move. Richie’s heart skipped, flashbacks of Mikey flooding into his vision, parallels of the two brothers blurring before him. 

“Yo, Carm, you-you good?” Richie stepped into the garage, his spine tingling with icy fear. It was quiet, an eerie, unsettling quiet. “Cousin, hey, what-what’s wrong?” 

Carmen's chest rose and fell, tighter and tighter. He was suffocating, head spinning and mind racing so fast he felt light headed. He could barely hear Richie’s voice over the noise in his head, Richie’s hand shaking his shoulder finally breaking his trance enough to meet his eyes, rounded in fear filled question. 

“Carmen, what’s wrong? Is it- Don’t fuckin’ tell me it’s the baby. What the fuck is goin’ on-” 

“-She left.” Carmen’s voice shook, raspy and scared. His tongue still felt too thick, head still spinning. He wasn’t even sure he said it, Richie’s widening eyes the only thing confirming that he had said it. 

“What? Who-Who left? Who?” Richie looked around, like the clues might be there, sure that Carmen wasn’t talking about you. No, he wouldn’t- he couldn’t. Not you. 

Carmen’s breath hitched, a strangling of a sob caught in his throat, running his hand over his face. Richie didn’t miss the way it trembled, shaking even as it rested over his eyes. Your car was gone, the house too quiet, no baby Teddy crying, nothing but silence was left. 

Richie’s heartbeat crawled into a rapid, scared pace. “Why? Wh-Why would she-” Richie looked at Carmen, eyes wide but still, reading his expression. “No. No, Cousin, no. What-What did you do? Carmen,” Richie grabbed both his shoulders, shaking him lightly until he met his gaze. “What did you do?” 

Carmen’s face began to crack, behind his eyes, Richie could see flashbacks of something- something he didn’t know what, but whatever it was, it was painful. That was evident by the fear that glossed over Carmen’s eyes, realization and horror. Carmen’s shoulders shook, frame rocking with a sob he tried to swallow, but couldn’t. Deep cries, guttural sobs breaking out of his frame, heels of his hands pressed to his eyes, fingers curled and clenched around his greasy curls in agony. 

The damning realization flooded over him, that you’d left. 

You’d left, you’d taken Teddy, taken Anchovy- you’d left because he’d driven you away. His angry outburst, petulant, mean, hurtful- he’d been so cruel to you. You. His wife, the love of his life, mother of his child, the one person who loved him endlessly without stipulations or boundaries, the one person who truly understood him. 

And he’d driven you away. 

He wished he could blame his mom, his dad, his family for fucking him up so severely, maybe Mikey, even, for leaving him the shit show that was the restaurant, making his anxieties worse and fuse shorter. But sitting in the empty garage, Richie standing above him in silent shock, his sobs and angry sniffles echoing off the cement floor, Carmen knew he had no one to blame but himself. 

He’d fucked up. Really fucked up. Fucked up in a way that made all the other times look obsolete. 

Carmen had fucked up, and for once, he didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t avoid it, ignore it, deflect it like other times. Half hearted apologies and promises of change wouldn’t work, you weren’t here for him to even try to give them to you, and he didn’t know where you went. 

Carmen wasn’t sure where you went, how to fix this, why he’d done what he did, and a million other things that raced through his mind. What he did know, sitting in the too quiet garage, chest stuttering with heaving cries, was that he’d do anything. 

Anything, to get you back home. To make it right. To fix this and make it up to you. 

He wasn’t sure how, but he’d give up everything. Anything. His restaurant, his dreams, his hopes, his life, at this point, to make it up to you. 

[thewritingfairy]

I'm back and God that chapter you just posted!

Lovely. *Chef kiss*

I was thinking of some things. One of them is how the Batfam sees the reader and her pain so unseriously Because of "oh she doesn't know real danger". but she does.

They are used to danger. Numb to it and trained to face it. Reader is not.

They have their safe spaces. Reader does not anymore.

They have each for support if they are in danger. Reader doesn't have that.

They can choose to go out to face the danger. She lives with the danger and the other comes and goes as he please, completely out of control.

If i was in reader situation with all these facts I'd be scared for my life. I'll probably have a woupen with me at all times because I can never know where the danger may come from. (Especially if Jason is close).

If I was in her place and found out that they are vigilants I'll be too disappointed and probably be more likely to keep woupens close. Outside or inside. I mean Gotham is not safe to begin with but I'll probably feel that if they saw me in danger in their vigilant suits they will not care.

I remember a TikTok that said that Bruce is the Villein and the biggest winner in Gotham. That person said that Bruce owns Arkema yet didn't upgrade it enough to keep the criminals in or even protect the workers more.

He build and by hospitals. He buys a lot of small businesses after they almost fall because of the crime rate and keeps the workers in them. These things seem like just good stuff but remember that they get more money to his pockets and boost his reputation.

All so he keeps going out at night to beat villains. He sees what they do.

This person also said that there's a comic where Bruce use his money and social power to help more then Batman and it make better and more positive changes.

If I was in Reader's place and found out his batman. Just a little surch on the internet and I'll connect these dots and start to see him as the worst man alive. Especially with how he treats me.

Also. Sorry for anything wrong. English is not my first language and I'm typing fast right now.

😶‍🌫️

Mention chapter: 05 - Tim doesn't understand you

Right??? They are so apathatic to their own trauma that they see (Name)'s trauma as something small. But I've read the comments on that chapter en responded to some, and I was genuinely like; wow people find this enraging, wow people feel sympathy for the Reader and wow people think this is angst. It has been making me re-think some family dynamics (I've not been neglected or anything, we just don't communicate that well in my family) and also my ability to recognize angst. I do hope its a bit lighter than chapter 04.1, because it was supposed to be a light-hearted chapter--

But that Tiktok, they are kinda right.

But I think that Bruce's privilege makes him unable to see how much harm his public persona does. If his public persona was someone that was up to changing Gotham, up to changing Gotham's legacy besides being a playboy or a smug prick.

(Name) has that same privilege but they are desperate to not be like Bruce, so they make sure to be socially aware.

[hellfire--cult]

Edit of Eddie: pitifulbaby

Chapters: Masterlist (Go here to see list of chapters, plotline and general warnings.)

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Tropes: Enemies to Lovers, Non-Traditional Omegaverse, Slow burn, Modern!AU, Mechanic!Eddie

⚠️18+: softness, drama, nervousness, fluff, angst, hurt, your heart will clench, the younger ones (not so young) make an appearance, someone else does too

wc: 10.3k

A/N: I'm sorry for taking so long! I didn't proofread this much, but, well... these next chapters are where everything starts falling into place. The omegaverse, will start omegaversing after this one.

Anyways, Enjoy! ❤️ And don't forget to always support me by hitting the reblog button or leave a comment!

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CHAPTER 24

You couldn’t believe where you were going.

You couldn’t even believe you were invited. This could also have happened even if you hadn’t slept with Eddie to begin with, but you couldn't help but feel honored and hopeful. He invited everyone in the group, and now you were in your brand new car, a Toyota, picked out by Eddie himself, driving into Hawkins.

“There’s literally no buildings… Like, no apartments and stuff…” You mentioned as you passed the downtown, while Robin hummed next to you, pointing at a particular one that looked like a three story complex.

“The apartment buildings here are small. You won’t ever see more than four story buildings around here.” She explained and you nodded as you kept your eyes on the road. It looked nice, homely. The stores looked like they were stuck in time, which only made it even more appealing. 

“Must be a quiet little place to live in.” Robin chuckled as she laid back in the passenger’s seat, her phone in hand with the GPS on.

“Nah, we always found a way to make a mess somewhere. Especially Eddie.” Your heart skipped a beat and Robin noticed how you straightened yourself in your seat and she smirked your way. “Really? Just by saying his fucking name?”

“I– What?”

“You’re whipped. Gone. It looks cute, but at the same time, chill.” She said and you scoffed, stopping at a red light. Your head snapped to look at her with a frown in your face.

“I’m not that whipped.” Robin just stared at you with a poker face, silently asking you ‘really?’. You groaned with a sigh, laying back on the driver’s seat, running your hands over your face. “I didn’t think he would invite me.”

“Why not? It would be really stupid and disrespectful for him not to invite you, when he had his dick in every hole of yours–”

“Robin!” You gasped, your hands flying off your face to see Robin smiling at you.

“Why are you having a nervous breakdown now?” She asked and you sighed, noticing the light turning yellow. You started driving once it turned green again, looking over at Robin’s GPS for a second to look at the road, and then look forward once more.

“I– It’s… What if he doesn’t like me? I mean, Eddie didn’t like me when he first met me, so, maybe, it’s genetics, you know?” You could feel your throat closing up a bit when you talked. You had been a wreck when Eddie dropped the news to you. You cleaned your house a million times to keep yourself distracted, tried on many outfits, even if you were staying for just a few hours. You wanted it to be perfect, and to be liked.

“Oh my god… Wayne will like you. I promise you that. He respects anyone that puts Eddie in his place.” 

Wayne. You would be meeting Wayne. 

Eddie had told the plans a week ago to you. You had asked him if it was okay for you to meet him, and he told you that he would like for you to meet his Uncle. His uncle’s birthday. You were meeting Wayne on his birthday. That prospect was enough to send you into a spiral of nerves. 

“I– I know I asked this a million times, but I dressed up okay, right?” You asked your best friend, only for her to roll her eyes and point to the right for you to follow the directions.

“You look fine! Jesus! You need to calm down!” You nodded and took a deep breath in as you kept driving, knowing you would soon meet Eddie’s home. Where he grew up to be who he was now. It was a really big step, a really big change. You might even cry at one point and you would not be able to explain yourself to the group.

The music playing on the radio was the only sound that engulfed the two of you as you kept driving to your destination. Your stomach was in knots, and you needed to be distracted from your thoughts. You cleared your throat, catching your best friend’s attention.

“So… Is Steve… still mad?” You asked and turned your head for a second to inspect Robin’s reaction. She frowned for a moment and that was enough answer for you. You sighed as you kept driving, shaking your head. “What is his fucking deal?”

“Look, I don’t know. I tried asking him and all I got was ‘You don’t understand.’. I don’t know what went on with him and Eddie. He wouldn’t tell me.” You couldn’t help but feel certain anger at your other friend. What was his problem with you? Were you not good enough for his best friend or something? Was he too pissed at Eddie for hiding you from him? 

“It makes no sense Robs, and you know it.” You commented as you turned left, the sign of ‘Forest Hills: Trailer Park’ coming up. Your heart picked up a pace as you could already see a certain trailer with a bunch of tables gathered outside, seats, fairy lights all over and– It seemed like the entire community came for the birthday.

“Wayne is quite popular, isn’t he?” Robin stated and you hummed. You kind of knew why it could be. You could sense the twinge of sadness in Robin’s voice as she said that. You weren’t going to comment on it, so you slowed your car as you approached, seeing Eddie already in the distance, talking to an older woman as Steve helped with setting up drinks on the two tables.

You spotted Eddie’s car a trailer away, probably not wanting to park the car in front of his uncle’s home so he wouldn’t occupy the space. You parked right behind him and Robin instantly got out to go to the trunk to get the boxes of snacks out. You gripped the steering wheel once and closed your eyes to concentrate. You could do this. You could meet him. It was a big step, and you cannot mess this up. 

You stepped out and helped Robin, closing the trunk and locking the car before heading towards Eddie’s old home. Even if you knew that the financial circumstances of these people were low, you could see the smiles as they greeted you. They had casseroles in their hands, pans with homemade bread. A small girl, around five, was holding a cake with the help of her older sister, maybe ten, walking towards Eddie to hand him the cake. 

The world stopped spinning for a second as you watched. Eddie smiled widely as he held the cake and put it on the table. He lifted the girl up in his arms and twirled around to make her fly, her legs kicking around as she giggled loudly. The older sister was left pouting, looking at the attention her little sister was getting. Eddie put the younger girl down, only for him to do the same with the other, effortlessly, despite the height and weight difference.

You just stood there. The environment around you turned silent, no movement, just your heartbeat being heard in your ears. You didn’t know you were staring in awe, in amusement, completely entranced by him. He looked… beautiful. He looked perfect. Your heart tugged at you, painfully so, and–

“Hey.” You snapped out with a harsh blink as you turned your head to look at Robin, who was staring at you with a bit of worry, yet a small smile was on her lips. “You okay, soldier?”

“I– Yes. Yes, I’m– I’m fine.” You choked on your words as your feet started working again. You were left completely shocked as you looked at him, with children. He was playing with children. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. You had to stop. You were becoming emotional, and you couldn’t afford this. 

Nancy came out of the trailer holding stacks of cups, a smile appearing on her face as she saw Robin approaching. You had told Robin that no matter what, she must not tell Nancy. You knew it would be hard for her to do so, keeping secrets from her girlfriend, but Nancy was also a close friend of Eddie’s. Everything would be a mess if the entire group found out about you two. 

Eddie and Steve had yet to realize you two had arrived. Steve was scratching his head as he distributed the bottles of drinks evenly on each table, and Eddie made the girls run back to their homes. It was Robin who announced the arrival of you two, making you jump in your place.

“My love!” She screeched as she wobbled with the box in her hands towards the trailer steps. Nancy giggled as she came down, giving her a peck on the lips. You smiled at the interaction, yet a pang of jealousy surged through you. You wanted to do that with the man who was slowly turning to face you. You wanted to greet him with a hug, with a kiss, with a cheeky comment about how his band t-shirt was not appropriate for a birthday.

Eddie smiled as he looked at you, walking your way to grab the box out of your hands first as he put it on the table. He frowned as he opened it, taking a look inside. Your heart was frantically beating out of your throat as you waited for him to say something.

“We asked for… cheetos. Just Cheetos. You brought the entire store.” He said with a chuckle, and you shrugged and looked around, seeing many of the neighbors already gathering up. 

“Good thing I didn’t bring just that then.” He was smiling your way, seeing him take a gulp as he looked around for a second. Your eyes fell on a pair of hazel ones that were staring at the both of you intently. Steve averted his eyes as soon as you looked at him, and then he walked towards Robin and Nancy. You felt your heart drop slightly by how cold your friend was being to you because of all of this. 

Eddie stared at your profile for a second. The wind blowing against you, and the warmth of the afternoon’s sun hitting your skin just right. You stood where he grew up. Where he was raised. And his body was reacting as such. His bottom lip was between his teeth as he gambled with his options. 

His resolve to keep himself in check with you today was slowly wavering because you two couldn’t risk it. Not in front of his family or his friends. But he couldn’t contain it. His hand slowly reached for the small of your back, and your head snapped towards him, a question etched in your eyebrows. 

You could see the need in his eyes. How he also wanted to kiss you, greet you like you two always did when seeing one another. You didn’t want to cross any boundaries today, knowing this was an important event for him and for everyone around him. You didn’t want to overstep in any sort of way. He turned around, yelling at Nancy.

“Nance, the sparklers are still in the car, right?” 

“Oh, yeah! I think there’s also more napkins and the speaker!” She replied, and he nodded, looking your way again. 

“Care to help me get those, Peach?” 

Your heart beat insanely crazy in your chest as you nodded. You looked back for a second to see Steve shaking his head before his attention went back to Nancy. You frowned a bit as Eddie started leading you towards the parked cars, right where you came from. You didn’t know why Steve didn’t like you two together. Why was he so against the idea? He came here with Eddie and Nancy in the car, and they didn’t look weird or out of place, or anything like that when you saw them from afar.

The problem was when the two of you got together. Every time Steve saw you and Eddie together, he would shut down. He would not talk with either of you, and he would not even look at you. He would glare at Eddie a few times, and you couldn’t help but ask yourself if Steve knew what Eddie truly felt for you. If he knew, and he looked at Eddie that way whenever he suspected you two were doing something, then it didn’t mean anything good.

“Steve still mad?” You asked as you kept walking, coming towards his car only for him to look back at the trailer and for his hand to grab yours.

“A bit. He will come around, he’ll have to get over it sooner or later.” He mentioned, and you squeezed his hand back as he stepped around the car, going towards the other side so you two would be hidden from everyone else. He crouched a bit so he wouldn’t be seen, and– he hated this. He hated it, but– He couldn’t risk it. He didn’t know. He was lost. This was the first time he ever… that he ever–

“Hi.” You said with a smile, cutting his thoughts off, and his reaction was quick, smiling back down at you as everything else shut off in one second. His face leaned down, coming close to your lips as his ears started ringing.

“Hi.” He finally kissed you. Slow. Gentle. Tender. He was surprised he could even kiss someone like this. To kiss someone without the need for it to escalate into something else. To kiss just because he wanted to kiss the person. To kiss them first thing in the day, so they wouldn’t forget him so easily. 

He felt your arms wrapping around his shoulders as his hands ran all over your back. He needed this. It was as if your embrace was a calming spot. A safe haven. He had been a wreck the past week. He was very sensitive, and everything that could be said to him it could end up badly. 

His uncle’s birthday was not something easy for him to do. Not when it could potentially be his last birthday. So it had to be perfect. Everything had to come together nicely, and it had to be memorable for Wayne. He didn’t meet you this past week, even if he extremely wanted to. He didn’t want you to witness the mess he was. He arranged everything with his friends when Eddie finally accepted their offers of helping, including you.

You had nagged at him all week, asking if he needed you to do something, to help, but he always replied with a no, and that he had it under control. Steve was the one who made him snap out of his craziness and told Eddie that he was an idiot for doing this alone. But could you blame him? His family, the last member of it that he recognizes as such, is dying. This birthday, overall, means nothing.

But now with you, the weight was lifted off his shoulders in one second. His arms engulfed you, not wanting to let go just yet, as you two kissed. Lips moving against each other, savoring the moment because it had been days, hours, minutes. He counted every single one of those, and you had done almost the same. 

You weren’t mad when Eddie didn’t ask you to meet him the past week. You understood him, but the need to help him made your skin itch. You couldn’t let him do this alone, but you didn’t know how to approach him without invading his space. You didn’t want him to get mad or snap at you. You were surprised when two days ago he called and asked if you could help get some of the things. 

You were really happy to help, and you told him as such. You were happy he had included you in the celebration of Wayne’s birthday, and even happier that he had asked help from you to prepare it.

He kissed you softly, and you kissed back just the same. You wished you weren’t hiding right now. You wished you could meet Wayne under different circumstances. You wished you could introduce yourself as something else rather than his nephew’s friend slash fuckbuddy. He groaned into the kiss when your fingernails graced the back of his neck for a second, making him pull away.

“Sorry for not being… available this week–”

“I understand. It– It looks perfect, Eddie.” Your voice was like a calming tune in his head. As if the vibrations of your tone soothed each cell and made him become like putty under your arms. Vulnerability was something Eddie never did. He never showed it, and if he did, he always made sure to be alone for it.

Except one time.

One time, you had caught him red-handed after hanging up with Wayne. You two had barely started to talk, but something about you made him break. Something about you made him want to be vulnerable. Maybe it was due to the fact that you had been vulnerable with him, and he wanted to show you as well, be even. 

But you had held him, let him cry out on your shoulder, and he never forgot about that touch. He never forgot about that moment with you. He never quite let go of how you rubbed his back and then helped him calm down from it all. He only broke down with Wayne, and he once did with Steve after Wayne got diagnosed.

And now, it seemed as if you understood why he wasn’t present this week. As if you knew the turmoil of emotions rushing all over his body because of today. And it was incredible how you could manage to make all of that disappear in one instant by just being here, with him. He stared at you for a while, a smile forming on his lips as he slowly nodded.

“Yeah… You guys helped me a lot, too.” You smiled up at him, to then pinch his cheek roughly as you glared when he winced. “What–!”

“You are one stubborn idiot.” You let go of his cheek, and he stepped back, rubbing his skin with a pout on his lips. You bit your lip, unable to contain yourself, grabbing onto the hem of his shirt and pulling him downwards again, towards your lips, kissing his pout away. “Don’t be a baby, Munson.”

“Now, be careful, sweetheart.” He roughly spoke as his eyes clashed with yours. You could sense the need behind it, the lack of physical touch from one another becoming apparent now. You really wanted to just take him away for a few hours now and spend it alone with him. You weren’t going to, but it was just your body reacting, and your emotions enhancing the need.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.” You gave him a peck as you pushed him away softly, looking up at him as you tried to not let the sadness and disappointment show in your eyes. “We have been gone for a hot minute…”

He stared at you for a while, the wind blowing between the two of you for a few seconds, with no words being exchanged. He didn’t want to stop. He didn’t want to go back and pretend that he didn’t want to kiss you all the damn time. He didn’t want to hold himself back for the entire night. How was he going to achieve that when he knew he would probably need you by his side for this?

“Yeah. The others might arrive soon too…” You hummed at his response, biting your bottom lip as you looked up at him. He huffed with a smile, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your lips, reading your mind. You took the opportunity to move your hand down and pinch his left ass cheek, making him squeal. “I swear, you are LITERALLY obsessed with my ass.”

“I swear you had another mosquito.” You giggled as you went towards the trunk of his car. He chuckled and pressed the middle button of his key, letting you open it up. You whistled as you saw the huge speaker laying inside. “When Nancy said the speaker, I thought of a small one. Like those JBL ones.” 

Eddie chuckled, standing next to you, grabbing the speaker, boombox, by its handle and pulling it out. You wanted to bite his arm from how its veins popped out from the movement, but you had to keep yourself together. At least for today. 

“We have almost the entire park coming for Wayne’s birthday. A small speaker wasn’t going to cut it, Peach.” He said as he looked at his old home. They weren’t going to lack on food and drinks since all the neighbors came with stuff. There weren’t many people, but there were quite a few. “It might be his last one… That’s why they all came.”

And you knew it. You had that suspicion. You looked up at Eddie, staring at his profile. His jaw was clenching as his eye bag looked like it was pulsating. He was stressed. He was nervous. He was anxious. You didn’t care at that moment. If Nancy or anyone else were looking, they could go to hell. 

You wrapped your hands around his arm, nuzzling your nose against his bicep before placing a soft kiss there. He was wide eyed as he stared down at you, knowing you two were not covered by the car anymore. Your eyes looked up to clash against his, a warm and encouraging smile spreading on your lips.

“Let’s make it a great birthday. Okay?” 

Time went still again, and yet he smiled back, giving a nod your way. You slowly let go of his arm, and the seconds started ticking again. You grabbed the napkins and sparklers from the passenger’s seat as Eddie closed the trunk. He grabbed the handle of the huge speaker and rolled it like a carry-on back towards the party, setting it up with his phone so music would start playing through the field.

You helped Nancy put the snacks in bowls and plates, as more people brought little pies or snacks, as well as drinks. Some introduced themselves as old fishing pals of Wayne, then a woman who told you that Wayne had helped her fix her pipes when she barely moved in years ago. Everyone had stories with him, and you realised he was dearly loved and cared about in this trailer park. 

Then, Argyle, Eden, and Jonathan finally rolled up. They were bringing in alcoholic drinks because Jonathan had great deals with suppliers thanks to his bar. The drinks were nicely put on the table, and Jonathan made it very clear to keep them clean and respectful. Basically, he told people to measure themselves with the alcohol and not get drunk in a lapse of minutes. 

Nancy then started waving excitedly towards the road, which made you look forward, seeing her brother waving back, followed by Will, a boy and a girl you didn’t know, and Dustin. You wondered if they knew about you. Did they know what you looked like? Did they know you by name, even?

Your questions were answered when Jonathan and Nancy gave their hugs, and Will immediately smiled at you.

“Finally, nice to meet you.” That’s how you knew. You smiled at the young boy, shaking his hand as you presented yourself. Mike, even if acting as if he weren’t interested, he shook your hand with his enthusiastically. You then looked at the two young people you hadn’t met, nor even seen in any of the pictures Eddie had shown you.

“I’m Lucas.” The boy said, presenting himself and shaking your hand. Lucas… Eddie had mentioned a boy who quit his club to go into the basketball team, and maybe that boy was Lucas. You turned to the short-haired girl, who was smiling at you.

“I’m Jane.” You smiled as you shook her hand. Before you could say anything, you were engulfed in the arms of a stranger whom you only knew through pictures.

“Oh man! It’s great to finally meet you!” Dustin exclaimed excitedly as he pulled away, your eyes wide in surprise as he held your shoulders. “I’m Dustin Henderson, pretty sure you know that already, very popular amongst the older crowd.”

You couldn’t help the snort and the smile bubbling up in you as you looked at the guy in front of you. He was radiating happiness in every single aspect. You couldn’t help but feel giddy as he shared his emotions with you. You presented yourself, and he gave you a roll of his eyes, telling you he knew.

“Yeah, I know a bit about most of you.” You commented, and before Dustin could say anything, you felt the collar of your shirt being pulled from the back, separating you from the younger man in front of you. Dustin’s eyes looked up, and your head turned to look at Eddie with an eyebrow raised in question.

“Now, you don’t hug people you just met, Henderson. It’s creepy.” He said almost in a snarl, but Dustin smiled widely and immediately latched onto Eddie. You were wide-eyed as you saw all the younger ones hugging Eddie tightly, forming a big chunk of people. You inspected Eddie’s face as he stayed in the middle, his eyes closed as he breathed in.

You realized that it might have been months since they all last saw each other. Steve, Robin, Argyle, and Eden approached next, and they all happily greeted each other, with Steve also almost getting tumbled over. Argyle presented Eden as his girlfriend, and– Shit, another pang of jealousy. You wanted that. You wanted to be presented as… as a girlfriend, just like her. 

Then you looked at how Will and Mike had stepped back, and Mike’s arm was wrapped around Will’s waist as he listened to Steve talk to Dustin about proper manners with alcohol. They were 20, but they were allowed to drink under their supervision. 

“For context…” Jonathan stood next to you, holding back a chuckle. “We were present when we let Dustin have his first taste of alcohol at eighteen. We turned around for a second, and he had chugged two beers down.” 

“What!?” You asked loudly, looking at Jonathan with a disapproving look on your face. He shrugged at you with a roll of his eyes.

“He is a menace! And very sneaky!” You shook your head at him, a small smile forming on your lips as you looked back at the group. “So… heard things with Jeff broke off.”

You blinked a few times at his words, and you wondered why he suddenly said them, only to then see Jeff, Gareth, and another guy coming over, laughing as they talked. You had to lie to them again. Robin helped with coming up with that plan. Supposedly, you and Jeff had tried going exclusive, only for it to not work out. Jeff had feelings for someone else, while you never caught those for him. You were two friends who often fucked and that was it. You pretended you had misinterpreted your feelings.

“Yeah, but it’s better this way. I honestly am happy that he is with the one he truly likes now.” You smiled, and Jonathan’s eyebrows were still furrowed in the middle in concern. You turned to look at him and sighed. “I promise, I am fine. I explained to you that I thought I liked him, just because he was the only one I was fucking.” 

“Still… I don’t know… I just feel like you– You sound incomplete, if that makes sense.” You stared at him as the words processed in your head. Incomplete. How does one sound… incomplete?

Your attention was brought back as people started cheering and clapping, and you turned to look towards the trailer door. Walking down the small stairs with Lucia, the caretaker, helping from behind, was Wayne. He was waving as best as he could, taking little steps to reach the wheelchair at the bottom of the porch. Eddie was already standing there, and your eyes filled with tears as you saw the boney structure of his uncle embrace his nephew, who was much bigger than him, yet he was hugging him as if Eddie were still a kid. 

Eddie held onto him, separating just enough to help him get on the wheelchair as Lucia prepared the IVs on the back to connect him to. You saw people slowly approach Wayne to start congratulating him and you waited by the tables, alongside the rest of your group. The corroded coffin guys stepped up, going first. 

The old man greeted them, and you could see him reprimanding Gareth for something. You were staring at Eddie’s reactions, standing next to his uncle as he listened in to all the greetings. Then, the younger ones greeted him, and you noticed how Eddie had to grip Dustin by the hair to not get overly excited when telling something to his uncle, who was trying not to burst out laughing. 

Then, your group started moving, one by one, greeting him and giving small talk. Argyle seemed to have offered some of his things, which Eddie only rubbed his temples at. He also presented Eden to him. Nancy just politely greeted him, only for Robin to start telling Wayne how she was her girlfriend now in a very loud manner. Jonathan apologized for Robin’s excitement, and the old man thanked him for the nice glass of whiskey he would drink tonight. He spent an awful lot of time talking with Steve, and you stood at the side, the nerves eating away at your own stomach.

You were a stranger here. You were invading privacy, and you didn’t know how to act with it. You didn’t know how to introduce yourself. You didn’t know if his uncle knew the clashes you and Eddie had in the past, the number of insults you threw at his nephew. If he knew, he would hate you. He definitely would despise you. Fuck, you didn’t know–

“Peach.” 

Your head snapped up, seeing Eddie with a smile on his face as he put his hand behind your left shoulder. You gave him a quick, nervous nod and took a deep breath as you let him guide you towards his uncle. Wayne Munson was looking up at you already, a tilt of his head as he inspected you all over.

“I do not know you.” He said with curiosity. You opened your mouth only for Eddie to give your name first, and then Wayne’s eyes widened, and he squinted at you. “I’m sorry– You– You are the one who tried to beat him up, right?”

Oh, fuck, he knew. His uncle knew about you and Eddie hating each other before. This looked bad, and the fact that he knew that part specifically. Shit. Your heart was slowly stopping in panic as you took a sharp intake of breath.

“I– Yes, but–” You were interrupted by laughter, his uncle clapping as he cracked up as if you had just told the greatest joke of all time. Your eyes were wide as Eddie groaned in exasperation next to you. You didn’t know what was happening as you looked back and forth, wondering what you had done to make this situation funny.

“Lord, I respect you, kid. Honestly, not many have the balls to do what you did to someone like him.” You tilted your head in question, and Eddie’s eyes snapped open at his uncle’s words. Wayne looked at him, and Eddie gave a subtle shake of his head. Not now. It was not the time. His uncle understood and grabbed your hand. “I’m Wayne, nice to meet you.”

You slowly shook his hand, and when you pulled away, you turned to look at Eddie, who was already looking down at you. His eyes were filled with emotions that you couldn’t decipher. There was a mix of absolutely everything, and you didn’t know which to pinpoint first. You opened your mouth to talk, only for Robin to interrupt you both.

“Come set up beer pong with me!” She called out to you specifically, and you nodded, smiling down at Wayne once again.

“Happy birthday, Mr. Munson. If you play beer pong, I’m your rival.” You made conversation, and the older man rolled his eyes, shaking his head.

“That would be your worst mistake. I may be in a wheelchair, but my pulse is steady.” You were happy he took the comment with the same energy you delivered it and then you walked away to help Robin. Eddie stayed back with his uncle, guiding them both to a table. Eddie grabbed a beer and then filled a cup with just a quarter of whiskey in it. 

“Don’t tell the doctors.” Eddie said, and his uncle chuckled, grabbing the cup and taking it to his lips.

“Never.” He took a small sip of the whiskey as Eddie sat down and popped the can open for him to take a sip of his own. “So… that girl.” 

“What about her?” His uncle chuckled a bit, scratching the side of his head. Eddie’s heart was beating out of his chest as he waited for an answer, only for his old man to shrug.

“She seems nice.” Eddie let a small sigh escape before taking another sip of his beer. “Lovely of her to help you with the boombox.”

He spat his entire beer out, choking on the gas that got trapped in his throat. Fuck– Fuck–

“I– That didn’t… Shit, that didn’t–”

“Mean anything?” Wayne asked with an eyebrow raised in question. He slowly took another sip as he stared at his nephew. Eddie was looking down, a hand scratching his head as he tried to look for the best words. 

“We… It’s just physical.” He tried to say as best as he could, but the words came out small, and his uncle noticed.

“I may be old… and I may be sick, but I know when something doesn’t mean anything. That kiss I saw… Come on.” His uncle pressed, and Eddie sighed heavily, looking at him with a frown in the middle of his forehead.

“How did you even see us?” He asked, only for Lucia to come by for a second, grabbing a napkin from the table, humming innocently. Eddie glared at her, a bit of annoyance displaying in his features. “Lucia…”

“Look, it ain’t my fault your uncle picked up a few words in Spanish. I saw you two while I helped him get dressed, and I said ‘Eddie se esta besando con una chica!’ and your uncle’s curiosity spiked.” The woman explained, and Wayne chuckled.

“I only caught the words ‘Eddie’, ‘kissing’, and ‘girl’. She helped me get up and see.” Eddie groaned exasperated, and Wayne nodded at Lucia for her to walk away and leave him alone with his nephew. She stepped away, her eyes on Wayne at all times if he needed anything at all. “Son…”

“Old man, I know what you saw but… it’s not that simple.” 

“In all my years I’ve never seen you with someone. Not like that. Edward, you’ve never invited the people you spent nights with to my birthdays, nor yours.” He explained and Eddie felt trapped, as if someone was putting pressure on his back.

“It’s because she is in our friend group. That’s the whole reason for it.” Wayne sighed at the excuse, shaking his head at the stubbornness. 

“Eddie… stop looking at it logically.” 

Eddie’s eyes widened and he looked up to see his uncle smiling. He knew. He knew what was going on in his mind. Of course he did, Wayne was his family, his real father so to speak. Wayne knew him like the back of his own hand. 

“I– I don’t know how it should really feel. I never told her–” Wayne nodded, and opened his mouth to talk, only for him to be called by his friends. He turned to look at Eddie for a second and he only smiled, “Go, we’ll talk later. I’m staying here for a few more days, remember?” 

“Sure son.” He nodded towards Lucia, who came over to help Wayne go to his fishing friends. Eddie stared at his family and just sat there. He was playing with his fingers as he felt his entire body tensing with sudden nerves. 

Why was everything so complicated? Why was he the complicated one? Why couldn’t it be easy for him to know when it was right? When everything made sense? It wasn’t fair that he didn’t know how it should really feel. It wasn’t fair. 

His thoughts were interrupted when a hand was plastered on his back, making him jump up completely startled and defensive, grabbing the wrist of the hand that patted him. 

“Whoa! It’s just me!” Dustin exclaimed, completely startled, putting his other hand up in defense. Eddie sighed and let go of him and his younger friend sat down next to him, grabbing a beer and popping one open. Eddie glared at him, squinting his eyes. “What?”

“Easy.”

“I have learned my ways. I am not a teenager anymore.” He said proudly, and took a long sip of the can, making Eddie sigh in defeat. He exclaimed his satisfaction with a long ‘ah’ and silence engulfed them for a few seconds. “You doing alright?”

“Yeah… Yeah, I am.” Dustin gave a small encouraging smile and Eddie could feel the nervousness in his friend as he tapped his fingers against the can. “What’s going on with you?”

“Oh? Me? Nothing? Why would something be… wrong with me?” He said with a nervous fake chuckle, and Eddie frowned in question, the interest spiking.

“Henderson… what is it?” Dustin took a swig of his beer, looking down at the top of it, his fingers playing around the can. Eddie’s eyes narrowed as he waited; he rarely saw Dustin this nervous, even before when he was DM for the club.

“Um… I… I kinda have to tell you something, actually just kind of– wanting to get something off of my chest.” He confessed, and Eddie immediately looked around to make sure no one was around, his protectiveness over Dustin’s privacy growing.

“Alright… is it bad?”

“I– No, I mean, it is? It isn’t? I’m happy, so you would… suspect it isn’t bad, but…” He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Suzie and I broke up.”

Eddie’s eyes widened in shock because Dustin had always boasted about Suzie. He always talked about her as if she hung the stars in the sky for him. No one ever got to meet her thanks to her religion. Her parents never let her go on trips by herself, much less to meet a boy. 

“Why?” He managed to ask, and Dustin sighed, taking a sip of his beer, Eddie following.

“Her religion. I… I adored Suzie, but… It wasn’t going to work out. She likes her religion, and I can’t force her out of it… Nor can she force me into it.” He explained and Eddie nodded in understanding, his heart turning a bit, knowing how much Dustin must have hurt from this.

“When did it happen?” He asked, and Dustin looked at him with a small smile, as if silently apologizing.

“A few months ago… It wasn’t something that I didn’t know was going to happen, Eddie. We both knew it was a matter of time.” Eddie was surprised to hear those words coming out of Dustin’s mouth, realizing just how much his freshman from school had grown up. Eddie patted his back in comfort, the younger man nodding as a thanks.

“Still, you could have called. You know we are here for you at all times.” He reminded his friend, and Dustin looked back down again, clearing his throat. Eddie’s eyebrows met in the middle as he saw a red hue appearing on Dustin’s ears.

“Yeah, I– Well… Someone kind of… comforted me…” Now Eddie was stunned, the words processing in his head because he understood what they meant, but he had a hard time grasping it.

“What? Who? Mike?” The younger man sighed and shook his head, clearing his throat as Eddie started noticing the nervousness that was building up in him.

“Not… Not Mike, no…” He then mumbled something really low under his breath, but Eddie only heard a hum. He moved a bit closer, his eyebrow raising in question at his friend.

“What? I didn’t catch that.” Dustin sighed and covered his mouth, mumbling again.

“... –ping… th– ne–” 

“Henderson, I can’t fucking hear–”

“I’m sleeping with Jane! Jesus Christ Eddie!” 

The older man’s eyes widened as he stared at Dustin. The poor guy covered his face, afraid someone had heard his outburst, but Eddie remained frozen. Jane…? His head turned to look at her, chatting away with Nancy with a smile on her face. 

“I… but… She’s Mike’s ex–”

“I know.”

“And your friend.” And Dustin sighed and nodded.

“I know.” Eddie was still stunned as he looked at Dustin with a scrunched-up nose, and the younger one smacked Eddie in the arm, completely offended by his gaze. “Why are you looking at me like that!?”

“I’m sorry! It’s still hard for me to– To not see you as that weird fourteen year old who loved Alf, Henderson–” Eddie then gasped, pointing at him. “You lost your virginity with Jane–”

Dustin’s free hand flew to cover Eddie’s mouth, trying to shush him. The younger man was blushing a deep red, looking around to make sure no one was trying to come near them thanks to their antics. Eddie groaned in disgust as he pulled Dustin’s hand off his mouth, glaring back at him.

“Don’t say it so fucking loud, dickhead!” Eddie rolled his eyes, but warmth invaded his chest as he tilted his head for Dustin to continue. “I… I know… It’s fucking crazy– I mean, her and me, we know each other since… what, eleven?”

“Friends for a long time, yeah.” He was trying to understand his friend’s situation, wondering what was truly bothering him. “Are you conflicted because no one knows you’re sleeping with a friend’s ex or–”

“What, no! I know Mike wouldn’t have a problem with it… They broke up because Mike found himself, and Jane understood… It’s not really that…” Dustin’s eyes grew distant, and Eddie followed his gaze, only to see him looking at Jane. The air felt calm for some reason, as if the party around them was not happening.

“Then what is it?”

“We are hooking up… and it’s great…” He stopped for a few seconds, and Eddie saw how you approached Jane, offering her something to drink with a smile on your face. “But what if I don’t want to just hook up anymore?”

And Eddie froze for a second there. 

The words banged into his skull like a rocket crashing into the moon. He frowned as his heart felt as if it were speeding up, his stomach turning the more he looked at you, the more Dustin’s words repeated inside his head. His mouth moved before he could process it.

“How do you know?”

“How do I know what?”

“How do you know you want more than just that? Maybe the sex is just… that great.” Dustin scoffed and that made Eddie lose focus on you to look back at his friend. His eyes never left Jane, not for a second.

“Because I want more than that… I want to hold her hand just because… Kiss her just because… Hug her just because… I want to go over there right now, and kiss her, in front of everyone so that people know she is mine.” Eddie stared at Dustin as if he had just discovered the library of Alexandria. He felt his body wave between hot and cold, sweats running all over him, his hair standing on end the more his younger friend’s words settled inside his gut.

“Isn’t that just you being possessive?” Dustin only chuckled at that, finally turning to look back at Eddie as if he had just told the greatest joke in the world.

“But that’s part of it. My possessiveness tells me just how much I want her to be mine and mine only.” And Eddie froze entirely, the wind moving the strands of hair in front of his face as Dustin talked. “Being possessive isn’t bad… if measured, it helps you show the other person how much you care.”

His eyes were wide, slowly turning his head to look back to where you were. Argyle and you were chatting now, and he was trying to make Will get a hit of his joint, and you were trying to bat him away. You turned your head just in time to catch him looking and Eddie didn’t turn away. He felt his heart clench as you waved at him, wincing in Argyle’s direction, asking silently for him to help you.

He gulped, his head turning to look at Dustin who was smirking at him, and before Eddie could ask, his friend got up from the chair, taking a sip of his beer, giving a triumphant ‘Ah’ as he finished it.

“I am for once the mature one.” He said and Eddie rolled his eyes, getting up from the chair and yanking Dustin’s small mullet with a harsh tug, making him yelp in a high pitched manner, making Eddie snort.

“Yeah, right.” Dustin pushed Eddie away, flipping him off with his middle finger, but Eddie couldn’t help the warm smile directed to his friend. He was indeed more mature than him today. Maybe had been for a while. 

It would have been nice to grow up knowing what one truly wants. What your heart truly desires and not what your brain conjures up. To be told that everything could be a side effect. To be told that he couldn’t really be entirely normal, that his feelings were never going to be exact, or just like the others. 

But when he looked at you once more, Dustin’s words started repeating themselves in his ears. Over, and over, and over again. You asked for help again with a mere look in your eyes, and he couldn’t help himself. His feet moved before he could control them, but he knew this wouldn’t happen with anybody.

No… He was only magnetized by you.

Hours had passed and the people started going back to their homes, leaving just a very few present, that included yourself, your party, a few neighbors, Wayne’s friends, and Lucia.

You were starting to put all the snacks in leftover tupperwares, knowing people had stopped eating by now, and you didn’t want the food to go soggy or bad. You felt a presence next to you, and you saw Harley bouncing on her feet a little bit. In her arms, laid her daughter, an eight month old baby, little gargles escaping her little lips. Looking at women in the pregnancy stages made you feel down, and you could admit that, but babies… Already born babies made you feel insanely fulfilled.

“I’m sorry, could you please hold my baby for a second? I have to help Lucia take down some of the decorations!” You had introduced yourself to her before in the night, but the baby then was inside her little egg crib, sound asleep. 

“Oh, but don’t worry about it, I can help–”

“Nonsense, I’ve been sitting all day with the baby, and I didn’t help at all. Please, it’ll be a few minutes!” You blinked a few times as you felt you felt pressure on your chest, as if you were being squished. Your fingertips went a little cold, as you looked down at the baby. You held one baby in your life, and it was that same baby who made you realize you wanted to have kids. 

You took a deep breath in as you raised your arms up, letting Harley pass the baby onto your arms delicately. You didn’t want to make any sudden movements, but when you looked down at the little thing, at those big orbs staring at you, you instantly melted. You smiled widely, your index finger reaching up to boop her nose, only for her to engulf it in her small hand.

“What’s her name?” You asked, and the mother was already rolling up the sleeves of her blouse.

“Sabrina! Okay, I promise I won’t be long! She is very friendly!” With that, Harley rushed away, leaving you behind with her baby as you saw her helping Lucia start cleaning up the tables. You looked at your friends who were all talking to each other, in their own world, and then your gaze fell back down to the sound of little gurgles in your arms. 

She was so beautiful. So innocent and pure. Her life was to be written, miracles yet to happen to her. All the possibilities that could happen for her, all the people she’ll meet, and you were one of the lucky ones. 

“She tried biting my finger off one time.” You heard a gruff voice say from behind you, making you snap out of your thoughts, quickly turning around, finding Wayne Munson smiling up at you from his wheelchair. 

“Oh, this bundle of sunshine? No, she wouldn’t do that.” You cooed at the baby, who only smiled at your bunny kisses. The old man kept a smile on his face and he nodded to the chair next to him, motioning for you to sit down. You carefully sat down, getting comfortable with the baby in your arms.

“The most innocent-looking are the ones who turn out to be serial killers.” He joked, and you fake gasped, pretending to move the baby away.

“Do not listen to the old man, Sabrina, he doesn’t know a thing about cute, sweet princesses like you. How could you ever be a cannibal?” Wayne chuckled at your jokes and watched as you bounced the baby a little to keep her entertained. He inspected you, saw how you smiled at the little girl in your arms, and he couldn’t help himself.

“For how long?” You looked up at him, the smile still on your face.

“How long, what, sir?”

“For how long have you felt things for my son?” 

Your world froze up, time stopped, and it even skipped. What did he say? What– Were you obvious? Were you too obvious? You hadn’t interacted with Eddie much today, so you didn’t know how he could have figured it out. Sweat ran all over your body like a waterfall, and it was by sheer luck that you remembered you had another human in your arms right now.

“I’m… I’m sorry, I don’t–”

“Darling, don’t worry. I won’t tell.” You were frozen in fear, caught completely red-handed by none other than his own uncle, and you didn’t miss how he called Eddie his son. Wayne saw Eddie as if he were his own. Just like Eddie told you, he sees Wayne as his father. His pops.

“I’m… I–” You didn’t know what to say. You felt your entire face burning at thousands of degrees, and how were you supposed to navigate this situation? How were you supposed to handle this? Were you supposed to lie? To tell the truth? To act like he was insane? That would be mean given the circumstances, but…

At the lack of your response, Wayne straightened up, clearing his throat to snap you back into this world, noticing the nervousness that started building inside of you.

“One time, we were out fishing. Eddie was fourteen at that time. He didn’t like fishing at fucking all, let me tell you just that, but he tried for my sake and for us to share a hobby together.” He chuckled as he remembered the day, retelling it to you– “So I took him fishing with me. He tried, and tried to get the fish, until he started throwing a tantrum when it wouldn't catch.”

You giggled a little at the story, making Wayne turn to look at you, as if asking what you were laughing about.

“I’m sorry, it just… it sounds like him.”

“Why do you say that?” Wayne contained a smile as he looked at you, your eyes falling on the baby in your arms as it did grabby hands at you.

“He gets really mad whenever he isn’t right. He once couldn’t admit to me that pickles with peanut butter tasted good, just like I said.” You commented, remembering that day that Eddie discovered that strange snack of yours. He had called you nasty, for many days, making fun of you, only to find him in the middle of the night, eating them in the darkness of the kitchen. 

“He has a really bad temper sometimes. And I could barely handle that boy’s sweet tooth.” 

“I fucking know! Whenever he sees me make anything with chocolate chips, he would stand next to me–” and Wayne continued, finishing the sentence for you,

“– And make sure you put almost the entire bag inside!” You laughed as you nodded, his own chuckles following soon. 

Silence then wrapped around the two of you, your eyes never leaving his. You felt like you couldn’t lie to him. You felt like this man deserved to know that someone wants to make Eddie as happy as he did. For some reason you wanted Wayne to know, it felt right to let him know.

“For a while.” You answered and Wayne nodded slowly, understanding. He could see truth in your eyes, and he could feel that you would never hurt his nephew. His family. He sighed, shaking his head.

“Kids these days. You’re too scared of the what ifs that you forget to live in the moment.” You snorted a bit at the old man kind of comment. But he was right, wasn’t he? “What are you scared of?”

“I’ve… been through a lot… I guess I just don’t want to end up hurt again…” You huffed, rocking the baby in your arms a bit, shaking your head. “Kind of pointless now that it already happened but…”

Wayne nodded, and he looked down at Sabrina, who was holding onto your finger as you pretended you were shaking her hand. He smiled softly as you cooed, made babbling noises with your mouth, and then he chuckled, catching your attention.

“Pointless…? No, feelings are never pointless. They dictate who you are, where you are, who you’re with, and where you’re headed. But one has to always face them, sweetheart.” You stared at the man for a while, a small smile forming on your lips as your heart filled with warmth.

“Now I know where Eddie got the pet naming from.”

“A Munson trait, sorry about that.” He smiled at you, and you couldn’t help the lump that formed in your throat, gulping it as you whispered to him.

“I really… I really like your son.”

Wayne couldn’t help the tears that formed in his waterlines, nodding at your words. He sniffled and held his hand out for you to grab. Your hand slowly held his, and you could feel the care in his touch, the plea.

“Then don’t let him be stupid.” He said with an order, and you sniffled, nodding at him. You opened your mouth, and he stopped you, raising his free hand. “I won’t tell him… He’s staying with me for a few more days. If I know of something, I’ll tell you.” 

He winked at you playfully, and you couldn’t help the wet giggle that escaped you. Your friends were unaware of the interaction that was happening a few feet away from them, or that’s what you both thought.

Steve stood next to Eddie, a little farther from the trailer. They were having a small smoke break together, and they had been talking about Eddie’s stay, knowing he would be in Hawkins for a few more days to keep Wayne company.

“You know, I can always stay if you need me here. You know that, right? Eds?” Steve said, but received no response. He frowned, looking up from the ground to see Eddie no longer looking at him, but to the horizon, wide-eyed, almost as if he were seeing a ghost. He followed the line of sight, and Steve’s face softened as he realized what Eddie was looking at.

You were laughing with Wayne, and there was a baby in your arms. He felt lightweight, like nothing in the world mattered anymore. The world turned into clouds, the other people didn’t exist. It was just you, Wayne, him, and that baby. That baby who fits so well in your arms. That baby who pressed her hands on your face when you tried to give her a kiss. Your smile mimicked the baby’s as you two laughed at his Uncle making a face. 

Everything felt serene. It felt right. It felt like this: if he wanted it, he could have it. He could, couldn’t he? He wanted it. He wanted it all. You were it all. He wanted everyone to know you were his, and his only. He wanted you to know he was yours, and yours only. He wanted to take you out, he wanted to plan things with you, he wanted to be true to you, he wanted it.

He wanted you, just like you were now, and he couldn't help but pretend you were holding his baby. Not a stranger's.

His uncle looked up, and he saw Eddie looking at you two. Wayne nudged your shoulder to get your attention, and once he did, he pointed at Eddie, telling you that he was staring. Eddie saw you giggle and whisper something to his uncle, only to then see the two of you raising your middle fingers up at him, snickering together. He wasn’t even mad about that. His chest only pressed harder on him. His heart hurt more, in every perfect way.

Steve huffed, not stopping Eddie when he saw him start walking away by his own accord. He walked towards you and his uncle. The two of you pretended to be innocently playing with the baby, as if you hadn’t just flipped Eddie off from a distance. Once he reached you two, he crossed his arms over his chest.

“You two having fun mocking me or something?” Wayne rolled his eyes, his voice rough and dramatic.

“We would never do that.” You nodded at that with a small frown.

“Mhm, never ever!” Eddie’s heart tugged at him again, yet this time he didn’t fight it. Yeah, there was no need to fight it anymore, was there? The answer was here. He finally had it.

The baby suddenly cooed, and Eddie noticed her little hands trying to reach him, doing a grabby motion. He smiled, putting his arms out to tell you to hand him the baby. Your heart skipped many beats as you got up, handing the baby into his arms, and you were surprised when he handled her with such care. 

His arm was underneath her, cradling her into him with ease as he wiggled his fingers on her cheek, causing her to giggle from the tickling. You bit your bottom lip as you stood next to him, looking down at the baby with a smile to your face. You were startled when he booped your nose, making you squeal a little, but that made the baby jump a bit in Eddie’s arms, scared.

And then she started crying. 

Eddie gasped, his mouth wincing as he frowned, looking at you for help. You were glaring at him, stomping your foot at him. 

“Now look at what you did!” You whispered in a yell to him, and he huffed, rolling his eyes your way, bouncing on his feet to rock the baby.

“I didn’t know you would react like a scaredy cat, Peach, how the fuck was I supposed–”

“Don’t curse!!! It’s a baby! She might catch on to it!” The baby’s cries kept going as you two kept bickering, but Eddie never once stopped rocking it, and you never once stopped trying to send funny faces between the words being exchanged. 

And Wayne watched it all. He watched how his nephew was surrounded by his friends. He had support. He watched how the boy he took in and raised as his own son, turned out to be a good man. Eddie wasn’t perfect, no one really was. But Wayne didn’t want to leave without knowing Eddie would be okay.

And there’s you. He knew. Everyone would take care of Eddie, but Wayne had always hoped to find someone like you. He had always hoped that someone would care for Eddie in the same levels he cared for him. And he found that person. You were calling his nephew names, but Wayne knew you didn’t mean a single one of them. 

Eddie would not be alone. He had trust that his nephew, his son, would not be stupid. That he would keep fighting, despite the fear. To keep grasping to the things he wants, and to never let go of them. Wayne knew he could do that with you.

He can finally say that it was all worth it. It will be worth it in the end. Because seeing Eddie smiling down at you without you noticing, tells Wayne everything he needs to know. Eddie would not give up on you, and he could have a moment’s peace knowing his son is going to be taken care of. 

He could finally breathe.

He could finally relax.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Two days after his birthday, Wayne Munson passed away in the warmth of his bed, accompanied by his family.

end of chapter 24

a/n: im sorry.

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I will start deleting people that do not interact with my posts.

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@jeangeniex @eddiesguitarskills

[soaps-mohawk]

I'm going to be honest

I'm having a genuinely hard time making this post. I've been fighting with it for a couple weeks now, but I think it's time I finally make it.

I'm not having fun on this blog anymore.

It sounds bad, but honestly, it kind of is.

I think a lot of it started from the very beginning with the precedence and expectations I put on myself. I've always tried to respond to every comment I get. Even from the beginning. It's just a polite thing to do since those who leave comments took the time to write out what they think of my fic, even if it's just a keysmash. I've always felt the need to thank those who leave comments or reblog my writing or (now that tumblr has it) replied to my fics. It worked fine before because none of my fics were particularly popular. Even my most popular fic (at that time) didn't get as much attention as CRCB has. I've never had a "big blog" before, nor a fic as popular as CRCB has gotten.

It was fine at first, responding to everyone, engaging with everyone. I was riding that high of omg so many people are reading and enjoying my fic! I've never had anything quite like this before.

Now...it just feels more like a chore. I set this precedence on this blog that I respond to everyone and I know a lot of people have said that they're surprised I responded to them and to everyone, and now I'm getting why a lot of writers don't. I'm exhausted. I feel like I've just been robotically saying the same thing over and over trying to respond to people now. I used to love seeing asks in my inbox and reblogs and replies but now? All I feel is dread because I have to respond to all of those.

Turning anon off was a big help. It lessened the sheer volume of asks I was getting a day. And while I do feel bad for all of my anons who prefer to stay anons, with everything that happened (the multiple incidents) with anon that kind of started to suck the joy out of everything. That paired with the obsessive need to constantly have my inbox cleared and make sure everyone gets a response...I can understand now too why big blogs will have 200+ asks in their inbox. It's hard and it's exhausting and I'm burning out.

First it was the fic that was burning me out. Things have gone on far longer than I planned and I just wasn't prepared for this fic to go on and for a while there it was dragging. I'll admit that. If I could go back, I'd speed up a few things, but it's done, it's posted there's no going back. I kind of hoped I would have the mental capacity to upload more than once a week too, but I just couldn't. I still can't.

I've come to dread posting chapters because I know I'm going to have to reply and respond to everyone. The only thing keeping me posting is the fact that we're in the part of the story I've been excited about since the beginning and also because I keep leaving everyone on cliffhangers and I love torturing y'all with all of them.

So that being said, this is in no way to shame anyone for interacting with me, anyone leaving comments or replies or sending asks. Don't feel bad about doing it please. I appreciate all of you that have engaged with me and it really means so much to me. Honestly, earlier this year, if I didn't have this fic and everyone on this blog, I might not have made it to now. It's been a really rough year and it's still going to be into next year. It's just getting to the point where I need a break.

I've needed a break for a long time. I thought taking days off the blog would help, and it did for a couple of weeks, but now even on the days I'm supposed to be on the blog and engaging, I just find myself queueing stuff up and just being offline most of the day still.

I'm tired. That's the best reason I can give. I'm tired and burned out on life and I'm tired and burned out on this blog.

So...I think I need a break. I need to not keep responding to every single reply and reblog every chapter. I need to not force myself to answer every ask right away, no matter how much I want to. I feel bad, but I know everyone would rather have me here and enjoying the blog than forcing myself to interact to the point where I'm dreading it and just robotically repeating myself over and over with every reply and answer and comment.

I won't be pausing the fic, I won't be not uploading. I'll still be posting chapters, I just might not be interacting as much as I have been. It's just putting such a mental strain on me still, even with anon off, even with days off. And with things getting busier for me, it's going to be too much to try and deal with irl stuff and write and try to be super active on the blog. There's going to come a point where I have to sacrifice the writing or the blog and I'd rather sacrifice the blog to keep myself sane, and also to keep trying to finally get this fic done. I love this fic, don't get me wrong, but I'm just burning out.

I'm already burned out in a lot of ways.

I was planning kinktober this year but honestly I'm considering not doing it because I know interaction is going to be insane and it's going to be a lot to keep up on. Plus trying to write that many fics is hard and I'm not sure I have the ability to do it. I have a few done but now I'm just like...is that something I want to do on top of irl stuff and CRCB.

There's just no joy in it anymore. It's not anyone's fault but mine. I put the pressure on myself, I held myself to that standard for this long despite the fact I knew it was draining me. I've tried to push through when I should have prioritized myself. I feel so guilty not responding to everyone. I feel so guilty being a day or two late responding to everyone.

I want to be here and interacting and responding to things but I just can't bring myself to anymore. It's no one's fault, and this is not a drag on anyone, or an attempt to make anyone feel bad or guilty for interacting or sending asks or anything. I'm just airing out the truth and saying what I need to say because I feel like I've been so robotic and lifeless with my responses these last couple weeks and I feel like I need to explain why. It's nothing anyone has done. It's my fault. It's 100% my fault.

Things have just gotten to be too much and it's my fault for forcing myself to be so active. The social battery has dropped into the negatives. I'm not a social person. I can only handle so much interaction and I've pushed so far beyond that, that things have gotten to this point. I want to be here and I want to have fun and I want to use this as an escape but I just don't feel that way about it anymore. It's a chore for me, a job, something I feel like I have to do and it's my fault that I feel that way. It's my own standards and expectations I set on myself, and my expectations on what I think my followers want and deserve and now I feel like I've gone on too long like this that I can't change things without hurting anyone's feelings. I don't want people to think I'm ignoring them in favor of others because I know there's writers out there that do that. They only respond to a certain group and ignore others that comment and reblog. I don't want to make anyone feel like I'm doing that to them and that's now led me to here.

I'm forcing it and I'm tired.

It's been hard these last few weeks. The life has just been draining and draining continuously. The joy and the love I have for this blog and my followers and the interactions and the fic. The last anon bullshit that happened was just kind of the last nail in the coffin so to speak. The straw that broke the camel's back. Things stopped being fun. It made me feel bad (and not in the guilty way, though that was a part of it) and I'm honestly just over it. I'm over the blog, I'm over interacting, I'm over life at this point. August is a hard month for me and every year it seems to get worse and worse. A lot of it is unrelated to anything online and I was going to make a post about it but honestly I just don't want to. Those that know, know. Those that don't...it doesn't matter.

I'm getting annoyed by the blog, I'm getting annoyed every time I look in my notifications and see an ask or a reply or a comment. I'm getting annoyed by some of my followers and that's not fair to you. Everyone always talks about how nice and kind and patient I am when I'm really not. I'm not the person I present myself to be on this blog, the way I mask myself so I can present myself as being a normal, kind human being. The mask is coming off because I'm so tired I can't keep it up anymore. It's happening here and it's happening in real life. I'm tired and I'm frustrated and I'm angry at a lot of things and the last thing I want is to start taking it out on my followers. You don't deserve that, especially when it's not your fault, it's nothing any of you have done. It's all me.

It's not you, it's me.

So for the sake of not burning this whole thing to the ground, I'm going to take a break. I'm not replying to everyone, I'm not responding to every reblog, I won't reply to every ask I get right away, if at all because sometimes I just don't have anything to say in response and I need to learn that's okay. It's nothing against you. It's not aimed at anyone specifically, I'm just trying to put myself first and stop things from escalating. I need a break and I'm going to do something selfish and I'm going to take it.

Don't apologize because it's not your fault. Don't apologize because you think you might have contributed to this because you didn't. It is no one's fault but my own.

I'm the one that needs to apologize to all of you because I've just not been myself because I've been forcing myself to be someone I'm not. I've been very unfair to a lot of people over the last seven months that this blog has been active and I've held a precedent that is not sustainable in the long run and made everyone believe that I was capable of maintaining that kind of interaction when I'm not.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry I've been putting everyone through this. I'm sorry I've been so detached and robotic and ingenuine. I'm sorry I led everyone to believe I'm someone I'm not. I'm sorry I've dragged this on this long that it's gotten to the point that I have to make this post.

I considered just disappearing but that wouldn't be fair to you either. I don't want to put you through that, so I'm pouring all of my thoughts out and making you read through this fucking novel of a post. If you've made it this far, then congrats I guess. Gold metals to you who bothered reading this far.

Anyway, all of that aside, I'll still be posting chapters. I'll have them scheduled and I'll probably come on and add links places to keep things current. I'll respond and reply and answer asks when I feel like it. You don't have to stop sending them, but just don't expect them to be responded to right away anymore. I'll probably still be here reblogging things I want and doing things when I feel like it.

I just need a few weeks to myself. Time I don't have to care about the blog at all and keeping up with it. Anon will remain off for the sake of keeping asshole trolls away, and also so I don't open tumblr and have 200 asks in my inbox after a week. Sorry to my anons but it's just the way it needs to be right now. Maybe once this break is over and I've dealt with irl stuff, I'll consider putting it back on. I just can't after everything I dealt with recently on anon.

It'll be the same on Ao3, for those that follow here and read there. Comments will probably sit for a while. They won't be answered right away anymore unless I get the energy to burn through them. Even then I won't try to answer them all at once like I did this last weekend.

I'll try to reblog something every day so y'all know I'm alright. I don't want y'all to panic and it's not fair to put you through that, especially those that might not see this or bother reading it. Those that follow simply for the fic and nothing else. I'm here, I'm just not...here.

This week's chapter is in the queue to be posted tomorrow as usual. Chapters will still come out as planned since I'm not stopping writing, just taking a break from the blog itself.

Thank you those of you who stuck through to the end here. I appreciate all of you so much. You have no idea. I'm sorry I let things get to this point and I'm sorry to anyone that I've gotten rude or snappy with because I couldn't be selfish and put myself first. I'm sorry to anyone that got a robotic, repeated response to something they were probably excited to share. I'm sorry I've been so unfair to everyone and I hope you can forgive me.

Take care and I'll talk to everyone when I have the energy to.

[honeypiehotchner]

The Gambit (Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- part twenty

My version of celebrating 8,000 followers (thank you again!!!) is posting yet another chapter of these two, getting us ever so closer to them getting their shit together 🤭🫶🏻 (And if I post the next one in a couple days, don't mind me)

Warnings: the usual angst, once again they're...tender? they're not fighting?, Rossi is kind of maybe meddling but not reaaaally, teeheeheeee this is just the beginning!!

The team does their worst impression of “acting natural” when you walk into the conference room. You pause in the doorway, raising an eyebrow at them.

You didn’t see them watching you and Hotch a moment ago, but their behavior is a dead giveaway.

You can understand why, though. Just a few months ago when you first started here, you and Hotch could barely be in the same room — hell, the same building — without one of you starting an argument. And just then the two of you were, what? Sharing a few hushed words with no heat whatsoever behind them? Almost playfully?

It’s odd, you’ll admit. You wish you could say it felt odd, but it didn’t. And that concerns you. Slightly.

The problem is that you don’t know how to be anything other than how you have been with Aaron. There’s always an argument, always something the two of you disagree on. No matter how hard the two of you try.

Then again, though, the two of you haven’t tried, have you? Not really. You were getting somewhat close, but then Richard Monroe happened, and now you’re here. In this weird grey area of being thankful for his help, angry at his betrayal of your trust, and…confused.

Confused because above everything else, Hotch has seemed genuinely remorseful and sorry for what he did. While it’s clear that he doesn’t necessarily regret it outright because he was doing what he thought was right, especially with your safety at risk, he does seem sorry. And that’s honestly all you can ask for.

Because with every new thing happening with this unsub — the car chase, the note at your door — you’re starting to understand why Hotch did it. You never could’ve predicted any of this, or how serious this would get, though you had a gut feeling that it was never going anywhere good. Hotch must’ve had the same gut feeling and acted on it. Something maybe you should’ve done sooner.

It’s not like you can explain any of this to him, though.

Or maybe you could. Maybe you could try.

Not right now, obviously. Because right now you need to deal with your fellow profilers who are absolutely awful actors, especially when it comes to this kind of stuff.

You’re too busy giving them all pointed looks to realize Aaron has practically materialized behind you.

“Why are we standing in the doorway?” he asks. A completely valid question, except his proximity to you and the low voice he spoke it in has chills erupting down your back.

You crane your neck to fix the raised eyebrow on him, asking in just as dangerously low a tone, “Trying to sneak up on me, Hotchner?”

His eyes burn into yours and it takes both of you far too long to come to your senses and move away from one another.

You take the open seat between Penelope and Reid. Hotch takes the one across from you in between Rossi and Prentiss.

You catch Garcia’s eyes and she gives you the most blatant what-the-hell-was-that look, but you don’t have a good answer.

Because, honestly, what the hell was that?

You clear your throat instead, ready to focus on the task at hand. The letters.

“I’m sure you all heard about the note left at my door yesterday,” you look around and are met with nodding. “Good. I really didn’t feel like rehashing that. Do we know anything yet about if they found any prints or anything on the paper?”

“Not yet,” Garcia says, “but let me check again.”

“Thank you,” you pause. “I guess our next resort is the letters,” you gesture to the pile of them in the middle of the table. “They were written to me from when I was fourteen to eighteen. My mom got some as well, but my dad wrote to me almost every week.” You pause to let out a laugh. “Truthfully, guys, I don’t remember what any of them say.”

“That’s why you have us,” Morgan jokes. He playfully swats Reid’s shoulder, “Start reading, pretty boy.”

“I’ve actually been examining the handwriting this entire time,” Reid murmurs, leaning closer to the table.

Morgan’s eyes roll to the heavens. “Of course you have.”

“Share with the class,” Prentiss grins. “What did you already find out?”

Reid begins rattling off speculative personality traits and behaviors from the handwriting, most of which you don’t even hear. It’s so strange, analyzing your father’s writing when you once used to cling to every word. Your mom warned you not to, which is why she never let you write back to him—

Except once.

One time. That, as far as you know, your mother never knew about. Because your father never mentioned it, to your knowledge at least, in any of his other letters.

Your eyes lift from where you had been staring a hole into the table, finding Hotch’s gaze locked on you. Not glaring, though. Soft.

“What is it?” Hotch asks, interrupting the ramblings of the team as they continue Reid’s speculation.

Everyone falls silent, waiting for your answer, looking between you and Hotch like they’re witnessing the most gripping tennis match.

“Sorry,” you say in general to the entire table. “I just remembered that I did write back to him once.”

“Only once?” JJ asks, curious.

“Yeah,” you continue. “My mom never wanted me to get attached to his letters. I was having a hard enough time separating who I thought he was as my dad from who he actually was as a person — a serial killer. She didn’t want to make it harder on me, so I wasn’t allowed to write back to him. I’m not even convinced she let me see all of the letters. I’m sure she threw some out.” 

And if none of these letters here mention the one you wrote to your father, maybe she threw out the letter where he did. Maybe she did know you had written to him, but she never acknowledged it, and burned the evidence of his acknowledgement. To keep you safe.

You know that everything she ever did was to keep you safe. You’ve always known that. Part of you wonders now, though, if it’s doing the opposite.

By never talking to you about him, and being reluctant at best when you did want to talk about him, it left you with more questions than answers. It’s no surprise, then, that you went into the FBI. And it’s no surprise you’re being haunted by this now.

“I wrote to him,” you continue. “But in the letters my mom let me read, he never mentioned it. I would’ve remembered if he did because I would’ve written to him again.” Which is probably why she never let you read it, if he did write one in reply acknowledging everything you wrote.

“What did you tell him?” JJ asks hesitantly. “When you wrote to him.”

You smile softly, remembering how bittersweet it was. “What does any sixteen-year-old girl want to tell her dad about? I got broken up with by a guy who then went and dated my best friend a week later. Teenage romance, y’know?”

Garcia rests her hand on your arm with a frown.

You place your hand over hers with a smile. “And random shit, you know, probably about my mom freaking out over me having a C for the first time in my life that year, and then. Probably that I missed him.” Your hand slides away from Garcia’s. “Sorry, I—” You shake your head, tears suddenly springing to your eyes, but you blink them away. “You guys can read the letters, I um, I’m gonna take a walk for a second.”

You push back from the table, eyes momentarily catching Hotch’s before you head out of the conference room. You’re not even sure where you’re walking, just that you need to get away from the letters.

You pass by Hotch’s office, the door wide open, and his fax machine whirring as papers fly out of it. You’re in front of the machine before you realize it, collecting the papers and stacking them as neatly as you can in separate piles on his desk — among his other piles of paperwork.

For so long, you saw the letters as a good sign. That your dad missed you, that he felt remorseful about what he had done to all those women and to you and your mom in the process, that he was going to be better, that the letters were him trying to be a better father and a better man.

But your mom knew the truth, the reality of it. She knew to protect you. And you’re glad she did. But sometimes you still wonder. What if those times were different? What if each time he wrote a letter he was trying to be different?

A soft knock on the doorframe causes you to jump and spin around.

“Sorry,” you and Hotch blurt at the same time.

“Sorry,” you repeat, chuckling. You hold up the few papers in your hand. “These were coming through so I figured I’d sort them, since you said you had a few departments sending stuff over.”

Hotch nods, staying put in the doorway. “That’s fine. Thank you.”

You turn back around to the machine, grabbing the papers as they come, sorting them almost robotically. Anything to keep your hands moving and keep your brain occupied.

You hear the rustling of Hotch’s suit as he moves into his office, coming to stand beside his desk, but not too close to you. When you turn to place another stack of papers down on his desk, he’s standing there, and takes them from you without a word. 

The papers are still coming when you start talking.

“You know my dad was pretty awful before we found out about…everything.” You don’t even know where you’re going with this, or how it will help, but you continue, letting your eyes glance over the police files as they come in. “Of course, I realized it all in hindsight. When I was just a kid, I loved him. He was the greatest dad ever — when he was around. Took me out for ice cream when him and mom were fighting, just the two of us, so she could calm down. Let me have basically anything I wanted.” You pause, letting out a small laugh. “He never could say no to me.”

Hotch says nothing, only lets you talk, and he listens. He continues to take the papers from you, some form of assembly line to keep you sane.

“Obviously, I grew up and realized how bad it was. Him giving me anything I wanted was to keep me distracted from all the things he missed. I don’t know that he was ever actually in town for one of my birthdays. Or awards ceremonies at school. Or recitals.” You sigh, handing more papers over. You linger for a moment when your fingers brush Hotch’s, but you snap yourself out of it, wrenching your hands back. “But before I realized how bad it was, I just missed him. I missed my dad. Even though he wasn’t around much, I clung to the moments when he was because when he was— He was good.”

You hand more papers to him, and then the papers stop. The machine powers down. 

Without the buffer, you don’t know what to do. You hold onto the final two pieces, staring up and out the window.

Aaron says your name, but you don’t move.

“What am I supposed to do?” you say, to no one in particular, not Hotch, not yourself. 

Hotch reaches around you to take the remaining papers from you, setting them down on his desk without looking.

“Are you okay with us reading the letters?” he asks.

“I don’t have a choice,” you reply, turning to face him. “We don’t have any other options, any other leads. There might be something in them.” You pause. “But I don’t think I can be in there while you guys go through them— But I’m not saying I can’t be a part of this investigation,” you rush to add. “I’m more than capable, I just—”

“I understand,” Hotch says, interrupting you gently, sensing the impending argument. A heat that, once, he would’ve leaned into. He would’ve fed the argument without a second thought. But not now. Not anymore. “I’m not removing you from this investigation. We need your insight.”

You blink up at him, clearly expecting the same pushback as you’re used to. “Thank you,” you say instead.

“We can look through everything that was faxed over while the rest of the team focuses on the letters.”

“We?”

“I’ll need all the help I can get,” Hotch says, gesturing to the piles you’ve both laid out on his desk. “I can’t read as fast as Reid can.”

“No one can,” you snicker. “We’re gonna need fresh coffee if we’re looking through all of these.”

Hotch raises his eyebrows. “I think I’m at my limit.”

“Are your hands shaking?”

He holds one up, and it’s still.

You smirk. “Then you haven’t reached your limit. I’ll go make us a fresh pot.”

You almost run smack into Rossi as you leave Hotch’s office, placing a hand over your heart to steady yourself.

“Jesus, what is with you guys lurking today?” you joke. “Eavesdropping for the team?”

“Funny,” Rossi smirks. “No, I was just coming to see if you were alright.”

“Yeah, I’m alright. Hotch and I are going to go through the files that were sent over from the local police departments while you guys handle the letters.”

Rossi nods slowly. “Just the two of you?”

You roll your eyes. “We’ll try not to kill one another.”

“Good to hear,” Rossi chuckles. “Let me know if you have any questions about anything from back then.”

“Thanks, we will,” you reply. “And you guys too, with the letters.”

You head off to the break room to start a fresh pot of coffee and grab some snacks, since it might be a while with the amount that was faxed over. 

+++

Inside Hotch’s office, he’s rearranging the desk chairs so the two of you will be more comfortable as you scour the files. He hears you speaking to Rossi but mostly tunes it out, until Rossi is walking into his office with that smug smile of his.

“What?” Hotch asks, standing up straighter. “Did you find something?”

“Not yet,” Rossi says. “She was just telling me the two of you are going to go over these while we handle the letters.”

Hotch nods. Rossi raises his eyebrows.

“Don’t start,” Hotch mutters.

“Okay, I won’t,” Rossi holds up his hands in mock surrender for a moment before dropping them. “But I did have something else to tell you.”

“What is it?”

“I have that guest lecture coming up—”

“Dave,” Hotch sighs, exasperated. “You cannot go out of town right now.”

“Aaron,” Rossi deadpans. “I do this guest lecture every year. You knew it was coming up.”

“You can’t go out of town when she’s staying with you for security,” Aaron clarifies. “Can’t you miss it for one year?”

“Well, considering it’s this weekend, no, I can’t just miss it,” Dave replies. “It’ll only take the weekend, and then I’ll be back. She’ll be fine. She can handle herself.”

“You know that’s not the issue.”

Rossi sighs, then perks up. A little too much. “I have an idea.”

Aaron tries (and fails) to not roll his eyes at his friend. “Great.”

“Stay at my house with her for the weekend.”

“No,” Hotch laughs. “Are you kidding? She would not agree to that, and frankly, we might end up killing one another.”

“Come on, the two of you have seemed…better.”

“Better?”

Dave shrugs, “Cooled off.”

“Cooled off?”

“You didn’t bite each other’s heads off today.”

Hotch sighs. “We’ve been less…angry ever since visiting Richard Monroe in prison.”

“You mean ever since the truth finally came out.”

“Yes,” Hotch grumbles. “But I don’t think it has anything to do with her no longer being angry with me. I think it’s the opposite.”

“What do you mean?”

“I think she and I pushed each other’s limits ten years ago, picked up where we left off when she started here, and— I think I found her limit. I think she’s…done. Tired. Wants to get this settled so she can go back to hating me out loud. Or ignoring me entirely.”

Dave is quiet for a painfully long moment. “You know, it’s been a while since I’ve heard you be this down on yourself.”

Hotch sighs.

“Just ask her,” Dave says. “I’ve already told her I’ll be out of town, but as far as I know, she hasn’t made any plans of staying anywhere else. Yet.”

Hotch hears the yet loud and clear.

[reignpage]

UPDATE

Jello!

Just wanted to keep everyone posted about what I'm getting up to. You know me and how I like to yap. I've been revising (barely) but I've also been balancing personal responsibilities so unfortunately I haven't had as much time as I'd like to write up all the things I want to write but I am still dedicated to getting something posted every day. My asks are always open so questions are welcome at any time

Here are my planned posts for the next 7 days.

Pt 2 of Don't You Worry

Will come out today

The first draft is ready and will need rereading to check for typos and any kind of awkwardness in conversation

There will be a third and final part - should come out tomorrow

Roommate smau - they hear you moan their name during a self-care session

Will come after the end of Don't You Worry

Written fic - How the JJK men sleep

Just fluffy stuff

Half-way written

Frat boy!Gojo - penultimate chapter

Also half-way written

Gojo's pov

Beginner's Guide to Writing

Will come out sometime in the next couple days

Feel free to send questions you'd like answering

This will be separate to Beginner's Guide to Angst and Smut

Will focus on writing emotions, on right formatting, dialogue, how to give the sense of time passing, balancing giving too little and too much details etc

The Call of Atlantis

Things will begin to pick up

I'd like to have at least two parts posted within the week

A Cursed series - dragon!sukuna

I want to get one chapter written up

Hey Neighbour!Toji - final part

I know what the ending is already but I just haven't decided if it's going to be 6 or 9 pictures

I'll have to see how things go

Just an insight to ideas I was playing around with:

St. Eden Gojo short fic - mage!Gojo trying to annoy his ex, forest nymph!reader, just cause he can. She grows flowers based on her mood. It'll be a collection of days where he pisses her off. Part fluff, angst, and smut

St Eden Nanami short fic - this will be an alternative story, completely separate from Atlantis!Nanami where he's trying to get a proposal signed off by his academic rival, Student council president!reader, but he basically has to whore himself out for favours

Sukuna x succubus!reader - smut/fluff, sukuna is being haunted by a horny ghost essentially (pretty much reverse of You've Ghost to be Kidding) and to get some peace and quiet he has to give into her horny whims

[dunmesh]

laios and shuro's relationship is so important to me it's not funny anymore... the fact shuro kept believing in laios during the latter part of the manga, then searched for him after laios became a monster and defeated the winged lion- although it was unclear what exactly had become of him- is haunting me because of how it contrasts with him choosing to give up on saving falin after he saw her as a chimera. like, laios was so sure that their fight in chapter 38 was the end of their friendship while in reality it was the beginning of it in shuro's eyes. laios kept agonizing over losing the one friend he cared for the most but it's because he didn't understand the significance of that little thing he kept carrying with him in every step until the very end of the series: the bell.

shuro gave him that bell as a token of his trust in him and his love: "we grew apart and i'm no longer fit for the position by your side, but no matter how far you go, i'll be there for you when you need me". their conflict over how to deal with falin forced them to go in different directions, but despite accepting leaving falin behind, shuro couldn't bring himself to abandon laios as well. and it's no coincidence that the bell shuro gave him was the proof that laios was still alive after all that happened, or that it's what pushed mithrun and kabru to go deeper into the dungeon instead of returning to the surface (which quite literally changed the entire chain of events afterwards).

yes, shuro decided to stop pursuing falin and report her condition to the governor so she could be stopped, even at the cost of her life. he gave up on her. but the same man also defied the canaries and fought for laios without knowing how messed up things had gotten because he chose to believe in laios above all else. and that, in my opinion, solidified just how important laios became to him- more than falin's, more than his own life, it's laios's he didn't give up on.

at the very end, when he met laios again after the latter defeated the winged lion, he gave him a hug filled with the pure, unrestrained joy of seeing his first and best friend on the island alive and well. hell, i mean, it's easy to forget that shuro didn't really have anyone close to him too- and laios might very well be the first person he was this disgustingly direct and truthful with since he was a child. and when he goes back home, there won't be anyone else like laios there; his home is still the same. it's him that changed. and later on when he will recall all those years he spent on the island, he will realize how surprising it is that all the crazy stuff he witnessed don't hold a candle to the impact those few people he befriended there had on him.

of course, laios didn't realize it until then- shuro's reaction was indeed the one that surprised him the most- but at that moment he could absolutely feel how foolish he was to be so sure he will be hated and rejected after everything they went through. it's so important that it was shuro who greeted him so affectionately, after we saw laios brooding over their fight so much: it's shuro's acceptance that he was longing for the most.

with all that being said, the one last thing that drives me crazy is that the bell laios was given to use when he needed assistance most was still with him even after turning back into his human form. that tiny item he was shown to be quite careless with and yet never let go of until he wanted to be completely alone, thinking he should run away from everyone he loved; but it was too late, his friend already heard his cry for help.

and they all answered.

[meraki-sunset]

so your crow strider au gave me inspiration for my own au, but i've built up the idea in my brain so much that now im scared to try to put it to paper (oops) did you ever deal with this while making crow strider? (and if you did, how you got over it would be much appreciated thanks fhdjks) also your art is cool :]

Hi, sure, i encountered a few blocks when writing CSAU and other projects. I think my method comes down to a couple rules

You need to know how the story ends from the start, so everything in the story leads to the end. Things can change about the contents of the story as you write it and you change your mind about the events that will transpire in it, but you need an end goal you can build your story towards. Most importantly, this is what allows you to add foreshadowing for said ending and structure the narrative in a clear direction. Otherwise, you might come up with a cool ending too late and regret some choices from past chapters that now don’t help this new ending you want

On that same note (and i’ll proceed to copy and paste from an old post) You need to have a Word document with a rough timeline of the events from start to finish. You need to know how it ends from the beginning and how they get there. It can be really, really vague, but it has to be there. It can go like

. They start the game, the trolls bother them.

.both games go to hell

.scratch

.trip, develop relationships

.new set of kids/teen drama

.old kids they get there

.to hell again

.John retcons everything

.new timeline

.they win

And that's homestuck simplified, Those are your Acts. With them, you will know where you're going and if you need to change something earlier. Everything will be constantly up to change of course, but you will be going from point A to point Z more easily.

From there, you go to every point in that list and create a Word document for all of them. I have them in different folders to have every act separated and in order.

A folder for each Doc for every Act, Numbered, and in each one make more lists like that one telling what happens, for example

WordDoc1 - ACT 1 "They start the game, the trolls bother them"=

.John needs to get his game

.introduce Rose

.introduce the trolls on pester chats

. John gets the game

.introduce Dave

.etc

And those are your chapters. Now you can know the extent of what you want to do and if it makes any sense.

I addition to that, every Folder can contain not only the Word document for the Act but also relevant texts and art that are connected to the Act, so evey folder is all about that specific act and any inspiration for it.

Another piece of advice I can give you is to hint at anything important. That's a rule of comedy; actually, the comedian usually closes the show with something related to the first things they said.

That works for everything, and makes people go, "Oh the thing! The meaningless thing they said earlier, it was a clue all along!"

Interconnect it like a web, and that web will stop the story from falling

Homestuck is so ridiculously interconnected that you lose track of the stuff and objects that repeat that have no way to be where they got to be, songs and people and events that are too similar to not be connected but nobody addresses, things like that make it feel like you're dealing with a universe and not just a line of events.

3. Yet another thing, it's something I'm still trying to assimilate, and is that less is more, sometimes things don't need to be said, specialy not bluntly, and an expression, a gesture, a flinch can summarize them. Backgrounds can be reduced, and ideas can be conveyed.

one example is, In homestuck, it's never said that Dave was raised with lack of food. He never sais it, but it's shown in how happy he was to find a warm bottle of juice in his closet, how there is only weapons on the kitchen and no sign of food, how he later sais he never learned what the purpose of a fridge was until he saw it on tv. If someone is lacking something, don't have them say, "i grew up without X thing" show what filled that space in the absence of X thing.

Instead of some character saying, "My dad was never there for christmas" have them say how they thrited for presents at the local goodwill, payed with their lawn mowing money and put the presents under the tree themselves for their siblings and mom.

4. Something that I always have in mind when writing the dialogs and sketching the scenes, is

"I have an idea; what's the easiest way for someone to get the idea, to get the feelings i want to transmit from the idea?" I made the art something I could handle drawing hundreds of times, simplified the coloring, the aspect symbols, the way I draw backgrounds, the way I write dialogs, etc.

That will save you time and work and could prevent you from getting stuck with a project too big to handle

5. This is the most important one: The first draft’s only purpose is to exist.

Writing is like playing darts sometimes; you only get closer to hitting the center by missing it and learning what not to do. That’s an actual rule on animation and a motto on the Disney office. “Get it wrong as quick as you can,” because when you learn what you’re doing wrong is when you start learnign what doing it right means.

If it helps, title your first draft “the dumb version,” because that’s what it is—the version to get the idea out of your head, and then you built over it.

On the same note, once you write "the dumb version" don’t correct it. Rewrite it. It’s annoying, I know, i know, but fixing and fixing a text only carries the mistakes from the first draft, and everything looks kind of disconnected, because it ends up being a Frankenstein text of all the versions of the story mixed together.

This also applies to art; that’s how I handle both writing and drawing; if it’s not working, hold onto the core idea, new page, restart.

Rewriting it puts it in perspective; it feels like a text of its own, with a clear intent in mind.

I think that’s all I have. Making a story is mostly about managing your strengths and weaknesses, organizing and not being scared of it not being perfect.

Hope this helps.

[afrowrites]

Princess and the Farm-Boy (Special Chapter 😏

DISCLAMER: ALL CHARACTERS ARE AGED UP

Author's note: Y'all it was been one hell of a year. I mean I have never been so overworked and with other stuff in my life it has been impossible to write anything, but I had this one in the works for awhile and I thought you guys deserved a treat. So here is my first *Ahem* "Spicy fic". I really hope y'all enjoy it :).

Clark Kent !Smallville! x Black reader

Warnings: Smut, Oral (f! receiving), Unprotected P in V sex (Please be careful irl)

Read on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/61783975

There you are stuck in the rain, the mud creeping up your loafers and on your nice white stockings. Once again your plans to escape Smallville have proven futile. Your eyes start to tear up in frustration, which makes no sense. After all you're not a child, so why should you start crying like one. 

Your thoughts are interrupted by the sound of a familiar and annoying truck pulling up.

 “Hey, are you ok?” Clark asks, he sounds genuine. 

“Yeah, I'm uh just fine.” You answer, he looks at you quizzically. He knows how much you hate mud and all things dirty.

“Doesn't look like it.” “Well what would you know anyway?!” You spat, your pride may be bruised but it's not broken.

He grumbles in frustration, he knows you're not going anywhere without a fight. So he goes for the next best thing, you see him get out the truck his tall frame makes his way to you and then he grins a little devilish grin.

“C'mon I know you don't wanna be here out in this rain, your hair’s too important.” 

“I don't see how that's any of you- Oh my God what are you doing!!!” You squeal as you are suddenly hoisted in the air and on his shoulder.

“Well princess, I'm taking you home.” He smiles.

You don't know how to feel about his nickname for you. 

Usually you hate it but right now it makes your cheeks heat up in a way you have never felt before.

He drives you both in silence, he realizes that he kinda kidnapped you, and you are feeling an acute sense of butterflies. Something you could never feel for Clark Kent. 

You shake the thought right out of your head, he looks over to you sort of reading your mind,

“Hey so uh- what is the deal you, I mean ever since we met you act like you hate me.”

You turn your head towards him, looking at his defined jaw, it's making you melt right in your chair.

“I don't hate you Clark,” you sigh “I just needed something to be upset at. It just felt weird to be taken from my penthouse in metropolis and come to Smallville, y’know.”

He does understand where you're coming from. 

“Look, I might not be super rich and super smart like you, But I know what it feels like to be taken from my home.” He comforts you, hesitantly placing a warm hand on yours. 

Before your able to pry further, you make it home. “I guess this is your stop,” He chuckles.

“You know the staff aren’t home, It’s pouring out there,” You sheepishly continue “I-I wouldn’t want you to get hurt.” You can’t even believe the words that are coming out of your mouth, yet they feel so natural. 

He does his usual goofy shrug and mumbles an “Okay”. 

You say your name into the intercom and your let in to your expansive house, It’s a far difference from his warm and inviting home. You both walk across polished wooden floors with high ceilings, old paintings and weapons from a time before. He felt it was all a bit macabre. 

You take his hand leading him to your room. It’s hilarious when you get to your room. It's pink and filled to the brim with hello kitty and poster’s of Beyonce on your wall, it’s much more girly than the cold academic you are.

“Don’t gawk, I’m still a girl y’know.” You tell him, your words bringing him out of his trance. You take your sweater off infront of him as you're preparing to take a nice warm shower. He peaks over and sees you in your rain soaked white button down. He begins to blush as he sees your bra pink and full of ruffles just like your room. He almost gets an anime nosebleed from seeing you. 

“Here I’m gonna take a shower,” You throw him the remote. “Pick anything you want, I pretty much have all the good movies.” You wink uncharacteristically and slink into the bathroom. 

He turns on the tv and flips through the channels until he finds something. He hears a knock on the door, and while no one is on the other side he finds a fresh T-shirt and some comfy pants in his size in a warmed box. 

“Hey um, I thought you said no one was here.” He asked you through the wall.

“Oh there isn’t, I had my robot send it over.” He rolls his eyes. Of course you have a robot, He thinks to himself. 

He slips into the warm clothes, He doesn’t know however that you're peeping through the crack in your bathroom door, You notice his strong arms and wide back, He has such a soft chest. He’s jacked but not ripped and you don’t mind it one bit. 

You walk out into your bed room still in your robe, He’s sitting in your bed comfortably hand on his stomach. You look out the window seeing the worsening storm. 

“Hey do you wanna just stay the night?” You ask him. And while he could go through the storm no problem he needs to keep up the facade of being powerless so he just nods. You hand him your phone and tell him to call his parents. 

You sit at your vanity and start to moisturize your brown skin. He looks over to your glowing beautiful skin. He's so hungry it’s almost like he’s eating you with his eyes,he almost trips over his words when telling his parents he wouldn’t be home for dinner. 

There you are in your silk pajamas and a cute boy in your room, You have no idea what in the world to do. So you just get under the covers next to him. You hesitantly put your hand on his chest, and before you can pull away he takes your hand in his. The warmth he gives you makes you melt. 

“You know farmville, Sometimes I think I like you.” The confession falls out of your mouth like your Niagra falls. You sit up wide eyed staring into his sky blue eyes.

He just gives you a toothy grin like no other and plants a soft kiss to your lips, after a second he pulls away. “ I was wondering when you were gonna come to your senses.” 

You roll your eyes and kiss him, this time it gets deeper. You rake your hands through his messy brown hair as he places you on top of him. You straddle his lap and his strong arms cradle your back. He melts into your mouth like vanilla ice cream on a hot summer’s day, And he smells like fresh cut wood and apple pie. He tastes like a dream you’ve been desperately reaching out for but you could never hold. 

He pulls away to catch his breath, with blown out pupils like he’s in love, (Well he is now lol). 

“Gosh, you’re just perfect.” He breathes into your neck slowly kissing down your collarbone to your plump and supple chest. 

You take a deep breath everytime he kisses your radiant brown skin. “Clark,” You break him out of his trance. “Yes, Princess?” The nickname sounds fresh and new but familiar and quiet all at the same time. 

“Are you sure you wanna do this?” You ask him timidly. “Girl, I don’t think your brother himself could keep me away from you.” He chuckles into you as he slips off the strap of your top. Exposing your  glowing bare breasts.

His mouth salivates at the sight of them, And in one swift motion he pulls you further into him.

He places his warm mouth on one of your soft peaks while caressing the other.

“Oh Clark,” You say his name with a sharp gasp “That feels s-so good.” You enjoy his movements as he kisses lower and lower till he reaches your soft entrance. 

His eyes roam the sight, his pupils blown and his breath hazy. Your scent light and sweet envelops his nose. 

He starts licking your clit with long swipes of his tongue, you sharply moan. Tangling your fingers in his soft brown hair. 

He’s eating you out like he is a man on death row, and you're his final meal. And then when you didn’t think it could get any better he places his thick fingers in your sloppy wet pussy.

“Oh-Oh my god Clark,” you moan out. You're loving every single bit of attention he gives you. And he’s doing so much it’s like he can hold his breath forever he hasn’t even come up for air. 

You're so focused on the pleasure he gives you, you don’t even realize how your belly feels warmer. How your toes start to curl, how your body starts to writhe and squirm. But he knows, he knows that even between the broken sentences and near pornographic moans your body is close to climax.

“C’mon princess, think you can give me me a-” and before the man can continue there you are creaming this poor farmboy’s fingers. Your back arches as you cry out in pleasure. 

“GOD, FUCK.”  Your words spurn him on as he didn’t realize himself that he was grinding into your bed. His dick so hard and with precum leaking at the tip. He’s afraid to hurt you with his size. He won’t even bring up the subject of his sore cock to you opting to handle his business in the bathroom. 

“Oh my god Clark that was amazing.”, “Oh well I thought-”  you interrupt his words with a deep and passionate kiss as your hands glide down to his member. You can almost feel the heat coming off of it. 

“ I think I know how to help you with that.” You giggle. You can see his cheeks heating up as he blushed furiously. 

You pull his pants down to reveal a huge throbbing cock. “How the hell am I supposed to fit this in my-” 

He hears you mumble under your breath, “Y’know you don’t have to do this.” “Clark, Baby if I didn’t want to do this you would know. Now open my side drawer, there’s a bottle of lube in there.”

So he grabs the lubricant for you, for some reason he is surprised at your usage of the bottle mostly because it’s halfway gone. 

“Oh relax, it's for my dildo’s, ya goof.” You giggle at him once more. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of that noise. 

You apply the cold lube to his red throbbing cock, which sends shivers down his spine. His chest heaves in pleasure as you stroke his thick member. 

“Baby do you want me to ride it, or do you wanna be on top?” The two options scream out to him, “Can you ride me p-please?” he asks, almost nervous like he didn’t just eat your pussy like it was a birthday cake. 

You straddle his lap, grinding on him teasing his very soul. You finally give him some relief  when you place his tip at your entrance. He’s so big you have to catch your breath every inch on the way down.

“I’m sorry princess, I know it’s a lot,” “Oh no it’sss.” You hiss in the middle of your sentence. “I can take it.” 

You finally bottom out and it feels like the air has been removed from your lungs. You reassure him that you're fine but he insists you take a breather before you start. 

You slowly pump yourself up and down on his length relishing in the feeling, His hands gripping the sheets trying so hard not to hurt you. The pleasure is almost to good as his beautiful pink lips part in an attempt to breath out a silent prayer of release.

“Princess, I’m so sorry I can’t-” He grabs on to your hips, speeding up the pace on both of your pleasures. 

“W-wait Clark, Oh ff-uck!” You whine as you take your arms and wrap them around his back, glistening with sweat. 

It seems like his strokes would never stop but as his pleasure builds with yours. 

“I’m gonna, s-hit.” He hisses as spurts of his cum flow inside of you as you follow releasing on to him.

You both look at each other with boundless stars in each other's eyes. “That. was… Amazing, I never would have thought goody two shoes Clark Kent could do all of that.” You breathily laugh. 

“Right back atcha, now I think I need a shower. Care to uh join me?” he asks shyly. 

You smirk because the fun has only just begun.

Taglist: @blackynsupremacy

[rapunzelbro]

The Act of Stealing a Loved One |2| (Stanley Pines x Reader)

This chapter is a flashback. So are the others. Enjoy! It's super long lmao

Story Guide

It was the Summer of 1972 when you first met Stanford. You remember it almost all too well. You went to a college for the arts, majoring in music composition. Oh! And you were in a band! It was not good by any means, you all were figuring this out as you went but you were all having fun so it didn’t really matter to you. It’s kinda funny looking back on how the two of you somehow became a couple considering how different the two of you were.

You two only met after you accidentally stumbled in his room one night after you partied too hard at someone else's dorm. You thought his room was your friend's room. His dorm had books scattered around, posters of some scientists on the wall and an absolute mess of notes on his desk. Stanford did not want to spend his night with some random drunk girl in his dorm, but he knew he had to let you in, not trusting what any of the other men on the campus would do if they saw you like this. He didn’t know why you made him so flustered, maybe it was your vulnerable state, or just because you were a girl, talking to him.

It was probably both.

“You know, I never wanted to go to this, it was some promotional stuff for my band. Did I tell you I was in a band? We are amazing!” You were laying on the floor staring at the ceiling smiling goofily, flipping onto your stomach to look at the flustered man whose dorm you broke into. He took a glance over his shoulder to look at you, trying to tell you he was listening, even if you didnt care if he was or not. “Okay so that might be a lie, Gabs is super pitchy, Jamie is still figuring out the drums but that's besides the point..I met you by going to this!” you finally sat up running a hand through your hair “You're so dorky it's kinda cute” you let off a soft giggle pointing at him.

This made Stanford physically freeze, his breath hitching slightly “Thank you I suppose, Are your friends looking for you?” He quickly changed the subject, turning around in his chair, looking at you “I think, I dunno… I kinda wanna stay here with you” you smirked. “Well I-” he started before he heard a female voice yelling in the hallway “Y/N! We gotta go!” “Oh that's Gabs! She’s my friend!” You stumbled up before heading towards the door, pausing before going back over to the man kissing his check with a giggle, causing Stanford's face to turn bright red “Thank you for saving me! I’m Y/n by the way!” “Um… It's Stanford, Call me Ford..” he managed to get out, quickly writing the phone number to the telephone that was in his room, down on a piece of notebook paper. “Just.. Call me when you get to your dorm safe..” he quickly turned back to face his textbooks he had his nose buried in hours ago “Aw you care about me… Okay loverboy. Seeya around!” you poked his shoulder before leaving, yelling at your friend ‘Gabs’ to get her attention

Ford had no idea why he did that, he never had the balls to do this sort of thing. Especially with someone as beauti- No why the hell was he having these thoughts? You weren't going to call him. He has to forget about this encounter, he concluded, going back to his uneventful night.

He got a call the next day, it was you. There was some sort of music in the background, he couldn't place what it was, some pop music maybe. “Oh my gosh is this Ford? I kinda crashed at your dorm last night, I am sooo sorry I am super embarrassed.” you rambled on before Ford let off a slight chuckle “No it's fine. I’m glad you're safe, you seemed very out of it last night” he leaned back in his chair slightly as he spoke “Ugh don't get me started about the hangover” you groaned causing him to laugh.

After that was the beginning of a relationship, you spent your off time together, he helped you with classes and you expanded his music taste, well tried to at least.

It's been 4 months since you two started dating. Ford even told his brother about this, and to say Stanley was shocked was an understatement, he rushed over surprising Ford “So you finally found a girl who doesn’t run off screaming? Tell me all about her” Stanley smirked looking at his twin brother, noticing a photo of you on his desk in a frame, you had a microphone in your hand giving a peace sign to the camera with your other hand. How the hell did his brother score you? Ford went off to ramble about you, he was a love sick mess, but the way his eyes kept shifting to the photo of you when explaining you made Stan confused, why did he have to keep looking at it to talk about you?

He noticed a few flyers to some music festivals, they looked untouched. “Who gave you these?” he picked one up, the show was for tonight, in a few hours. “Oh Y/n did. She’s in a band” Ford looked at the flier before directing his attention back to the textbook that was in front of him “You plan on seeing her right?” Stan raised an eyebrow looking at his brother “Too busy, I have an exam tomorrow” Ford shrugged it off flipping to the next page in his book “You’re joking right? Have you been to any of her shows?” Stan narrowed his eyes in disapproval, Ford didn't say anything “Some boyfriend you are” He muttered looking down at the flier in his hands. He knew what he had to do, he wasn’t going to let Ford ruin the only potential relationship he would probably ever have.

Taglist: @bluepanda08 @slay-thou-pookie @karmaisacatluzi @fries11 @marvelous-maniac @cherryblom @leo4242564 @zuzzybakaemperiment

[levissslutt]

𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕓𝕠𝕪 𝕟𝕖𝕩𝕥 𝕕𝕠𝕠𝕣

Plot: Emani is starting her freshman year at her HBCU. She's navigating college life, new friends and freedom. Her roommate Trinity introduces her to her boyfriend Jonathan...and his wildcard brother. The second he sets eyes on her, their time in uni is going to be one for the books.

Warnings: None for now, will put them at the beginning of each chapter.

Word count: 3251

It was finally the weekend after an incredibly long first week at uni. Attending an HBCU was always a dream of yours, but being here in the moment it felt like anything but a dream. Your roommate Trinity was yapping away on the back counter of the laundry room.

"Are you even listening to me." You you shifted your head to the side, to look at the girl. "Yess Trin." You breathed out dragging out your words. "Right right so like I was saying you coming to this party with me and Jim when him and twin get back in town." Trinity had a boyfriend you believed his name was either Jimmy or Jonathan she calls him both, but you never cared to ask.

She was the sweetest thing ever, you actually wish you could stuff her in your sock for safe keeping, this world is too cruel to sweet souls like Trin....however she talked nonstop. You'd met her a week before school started so at this point you only knew each other for two weeks. It felt like months the amount of events that occurred on camp in the short amount of time the two of you shared a living space. And even more so because you were pretty sure she said more words in the 14 days you knew she existed , than the 19 years you lived.

"Trin you know I don't fuck with parties." The two of you gathered your clothes and threw them in the basket after hearing the soft ding on the dryer. "Girl I know, but yo ass needs to get out this dorm and we literally have yet to attend one party, because you refuse to go with me, and Ian going by myself". You side eyed her, padding back down the hall to their shared space.

"I need to lock in like seriously I can't fall behind even a little or everything falls apart." She stops abruptly grabbing my shoulders, "Girl I get that one hundred percent, but you have a good heart, we don't have to be best of friends, but I can tell we are going to have each others back, and I will not let you loose your way after one little party."

You sigh after she lets go of you, and pushes open the room door with a wave of her key card. " You know what, you lucky I like you." She squealed, kicking the door shut, and locking it.

---

Later that day the brothers finally arrived. Trin had been next door with her boyfriend for the past few hours while you took your time getting ready. Doing little things such as brushing the lint out the end of your locs, and fixing the chipped paint on your toes. Emani texted Trinity to make sure she was straight still....no response, but a few minutes later you could her faint rocking against the wall.

"Man come onnnn." You hop up turning on your speaker and cutting on your playlist, making sure you could no longer hear the two of they nasty asses. "He aint even bother to say hey just stole my roomie." You continued making some finishing touches to your look, when you heard a knock on your door. You walked over to look through the peep hole. " Who tf." You cracked it open to see the person better. Before you could say anything he raises his arms in surrender. "Im Trinitys brother." He said hands still raised.

"Ohhh her boyfriends brother." He nodded and you opened the door wider of him. He slipped past you and you closed the door. You recognized him from the pictures Trinity showed you earlier, she had let you know he'd stop by. Only reason why you didn't mind this random little boy in your room was because you had met his brother and he was absolutely made for Trinity. Them two make you feel as if you'd known them for years.

He plopped down on Trinitys bean bag along her side of the room. Now that he was in the room you actually got a good look at him, and damn did he looked good. He had a curly, unkept mullet and a round babyish face, and dark brown eyes. " What's your name again, Trin been talking bout you since she met you." You smiled at that comment, you really appreciated that girl. " Emani, and yea she's really great I can tell we're going to be close." He chuckled and nodded pulling out his phone. "That girl is really something, but she love the hell out my brother and we done been through some shit, so that's baby sis for real."

He looked up from his phone almost as if he noticed you for the first time. " You fine as hell." You snapped your head up from your computer , laughing. " Boy what the hell, you been in my room 10 minutes and aint notice me." He laughed too, " Well yea Im all in yo shit I wasn't trying to look at you fr." He shifted on the bean bag really looking at you now.

"Well I appreciate it , but don't get kicked out being creepy, you cool by association." He grinned, leaning back into his seat. "I gotchu ma." He finished the sentence with a wink, causing you to roll your eyes.

A half hour later you and the brother had chopped it up and got to know each other a bit. His name is Joshua, him and his brother are 20 and they were in NC visiting some family before school started, but originally from LA. "What's your major ma." He asked with a smirk on his face.

"Uh uh we not starting that pet name shit my name is Emani."

"It's a 'M' and a 'A' in there."

He got you there, you laughed throwing your pillow across the room. "Joshua please."

Trin and Jon walk in a little bit later. Their flushed faces and ashamed looks were too funny. "We know what y'all was up in there doing, just nasty." Josh shook his head at the older twin.

"Man hush ian had this in two months." He said smacking Trins behind. She grabbed his hand and they playfully tussled to her bed. Hopping up you grabbed the last of your toiletries and headed to the bathroom.

"Finna take a shower y'all."

You didn't wait to hear a response. You slipped into the bathroom locking the door. You scrolled on your phone and picked a playlist and let the music blast through the bathroom as you washed.

When you were satisfied you dried off and slipped back out the bathroom. "Thought you drowned girl damn." You heard Trin yell from the other side of the room. You could hear chuckling from the two other males in the room. "I was actually on song 6 of my set thank you." That caused all three of them to laugh.

Thankfully right outside the bathroom there was a small vanity area where you could dry off and change without being in the steamy bathroom, or being in the view of the rest of the room, and its guest. 

Once you were modest you rounded the corner asking what Trin was wearing. Her boyfriend was sprawled on her bed with his feet dangling off not paying you any attention. Trin had on an all black romper with a neon green bomber jacket. The theme of the party was 2016, which you thought was the oddest theme, but now you could see how much fun this was going to be, cause she looked too cute in her signature color.

Squealing at the excitement of you actaully coming with her to a party Trin hopped across the room over to the area out of site of the boys to help you pick out a fit.

Once the four of you were dressed and smelling great , Jon led the way to his truck. To your surprise, Josh reached the door before you to open it. "Preciate that Josh." He was too damn fine, like literally. There was no way in hell he would look twice in your direction, you thought. Like he didn't say you was fine as hell earlier, but honestly you really thought he was just trying to be funny.

The couple in the front yapped away and you and Josh sat in silence in the back. "See now that I have another person to bother around the two of them you gon have to stop being so shy all the time." It was so dark you couldn't see him, but the chain he had around his neck glistened perfectly, so you could just barely make out an outline of him.

"Ian shy, I just ain't been to a party in a minute. So nervous is what I am. Ian tyna get knocked down by no ques either. I be hearing about these college parties." Josh laughed , showing all his teeth in the dark car. "Aye I'm weak as hell, yea them ques be doing the most man, but just stick with me I gotchu."

Your heart fluttered a little at the thought that Joshua wanted you to stay near him all night. 

---

The party was actaully a lot of fun. There weren't any ques at the party, thank god. However Josh did not once leave your side. He thought he was slick, but he been eyeing you since you asked Trinity for help with your outfit earlier. You didn't mind, but couldn't help, but think if it was just because he only wanted one thing from you.

You tried your hardest to scan your key card in front of the door, but between you giggling, Trinity sprawled across the floor and Josh all but carrying Jonathan down the hall, the sight was making the task that much harder.

"Trin get the fuck up omg," you where whisper yelling at her. The boys slowly made it over to the two of you. You were finally able to get the door open and somehow managed to drag Trinitys drunk ass in the room. Jonathan and Trinity had the bright (drunk) idea to challenge some other couple to a dance battle, and the loser had to take 3 shots. Considering y'all were already drunk, moving around makes you drunker AND they took 3 more shots afterwards. You just knew they asses was seeing stars.

"Josh, bruh help me get her on the bed." Jonathan was officially passed out face down on the other side of Trinitys bed, at least he was safe, and there was a trash can over there. You and Josh may have been a little less drunk than the other two however, you took one step towards Trin and damn near ended up on the floor next to her had it not been for Josh.

"Come on Emani you too girl, you was just talking bout some "Joshuaaa oh my god, help me get her drunk ass on da beddddaaa", now lookatchu, can't even walk." He mimicked what you just said in a drunk girl voice. "I don't even sound like that, see now you doing too much." He just laughed after he got you on your bed, cause little did you realize you sounded exactly like that.

---

You rolled over groaning at the blinding light that peeked through the curtains. You had a massive, pounding headache. The feeling came quick, bubbling up from the bottom of your stomach. Stumbling as quickly as you could to the bathroom, you threw up. It was so much liquid you where sure you were about to die.

"Goddamn ma, you good."

You had only heard the shower running after you had turned into a werewolf on the bathroom floor. Leaning against the wall you see a half naked Josh peeking from around the curtain.

"Why on earth are you in my shower."

He made a face, and although they had only been back since yesterday, you knew what he meant. After you morphed into a power ranger and flushed the toilet you felt way better, still leaning against the wall trying to feel normal you say to Josh "I appreciate you helping me into my bed yesterday, and I don't mean to overstep cause I know that y'all have known Trinity since y'all was kids, but I haven't. You cool and all, but just ask me if you can be in my room like this."

By the time you had finished Josh had turned the water off and grabbed his towel. "Nah fasho I was going to, but ma you was knocked out."

Your face flushed slightly at the thought "oh yea."

He chuckled stepping out the bathroom. You watched his back muscles move as he left the bathroom. "Damn". You huffed under your breathe. His butt was so big, like it wasn't fair, he don't need allat. You closed your eyes leaning back once again on the cool tiles on the bathroom wall.

Finally pushing yourself off the floor you grabbed your shower caddy and stripped in the bathroom, hoping Josh would just leave on his own. You weren't sure why you were so comfortable around him you thought carefully as you took your shower. Maybe its his eyes, he had really pretty eyes and people with pretty eyes tend to get away with shit. Or maybe it was that ass.

You had to shake your head to get the thought of Josh out of it. You've known him less than 48 hours and he was all you could think about. And he kept calling you 'ma'. He just did not know what that did to you.

---

It had been a few weeks since the party and honestly school was going by fairy smoothly. Trinity and Jonathan were never on campus any more due to some program they signed up for. It was really cool and you and Joshua would've signed up as well, but somehow as the two of you got closer he convinced you to sign up for photography with him.

He was the last person you would've ever thought to be into photography, but sitting on his bed looking at the pictures he had taken of you earlier for his assignment you were speechless. "These are beautiful, I don't even remember posing for this one."

His voice was soft when he spoke, which was rare. "Nah you the one that made them beautiful, and I definitely snapped that last one when you wasn't looking."

You looked up at him from your spot on the bed, grinning like an idiot. "Thank you Joshua." You had to stop lying to yourself you for sure had a crush on him now, but you would never make the first move or tell him that. Truth be told you had never been in a relationship or even asked out on a date. Josh was very attractive and the girls on camp made that very known, and the fact that he hadn't made a move either was just feeding off your insecurities.

You hadn't even realized the same boy you were thinking about had gotten up and was standing on the side of his bed watching you.

You snapped your head to the side almost startled. "What, you creep."

"Girl, you on my bed."

"Which is true, but why are you just standing there like that." He shifted uncomfortably. Between his soft spoken complement, and the look on his face right he was low-key worrying you.

"You good Josh?" You asked him tilting your head, you did not miss his eyes looking at your lips and then snapping back up to your eyes.

"I was just tryna figure out why you was staring at the same picture for five minutes."

"Boy what like you not standing there staring at me."

"Yea, but I was talking to you and you didn't even hear me like I'm not 3 inches away from you." He climbed onto the bed and sat with his legs crossed as he leaned against the headboard.

You turned to face him, frowning "damn I really did not hear you, I was just stuck in my head." He chuckled "Yea I can see that cause Im spilling my heart out and you staring off into space."

"Huh wait what did you say."

He got quiet again, but he was still staring at you with those damn eyes. How could someone so muscular and boyish looking have such pretty doe eyes.

"I really like you Emani. And I know we met each other not that long ago, but I would love to take you out on a date."

Your mouth was gaped open awkwardly looking at the same boy who had invaded your thoughts just a moment ago, was now sitting in front of you telling you he felt the same way. And he was asking you out on a date. No fucking way.

He licked his lips laughing again. "Look there you go ma, come back."

You threw the closest thing you could find at him, face completely flushed red. "Shut upppp Josh." Your head was spinning, hanging low in your hands as the boy across from you had the stupidest smile plastered across his face. "I really like you too Josh." You mumbled through your hands. He smiled widened if that was even possible. You felt him pull you into his lap.

You looked up at him, face still red. "I really like you too Joshua."

This time you had whispered it, looking at him through your lashes.

He licked his lips again and placed his hands on your hips. "You already said that Emani." The use of your name instead of that stupid ass pet name made heat rush to your core. His hands cupped the sides of your face. He didn't even let you react, before he crashed his lips into yours. His lips were soft and tasted like the mango drink he had on desk. One of his hands slid back to your waist as he continued to kiss you.

You couldn't believe this was really happening right now. This the same boy that had been on your mind since the night at that party. The two of you had pretty much spent everyday together, he was cool as hell, easy going, very sweet and it worked out even better because the four of you had all y'all classes together.

And now here you were making out with him on his bed. His bed. His be-

You sat back suddenly pushing him away. "I - Im sorry Josh, I need to go."

The look on his face was shattering your heart, but you couldn't, not right now. After all the thoughts you were having about him actually sitting here in the moment scared the fuck outta you and you had to get out of his room ASAP.

"Mani what's wrong, what did I do."

The tears were threatening to spill, you didn't know what was wrong with you. You were quickly trying to grab your stuff before he saw the tears in your eyes.

"Nothing I just need some air, Im sorry."

You managed to grab the rest of your things and slip out the door before they fell.

Josh stood in the middle of his room absolutely speechless after Emani left. He could've sworn he saw her crying.

"What the fuck just happened."

ꨄ︎ᰔᩚꨄ︎ᰔᩚꨄ︎ᰔᩚꨄ︎ᰔᩚꨄ︎ᰔᩚꨄ︎ᰔᩚꨄ︎ᰔᩚꨄ︎ᰔᩚꨄ︎ᰔᩚꨄ︎ᰔᩚꨄ︎ᰔᩚꨄ︎ᰔᩚꨄ︎

[captain-joongz]

Penny for your ghosts; chapter 1

Pairing: OT7!BTS x f!reader

Genre: hybrid au, supernatural au, ghost hunting au (based on Lockwood&Co lore), found family, fluff and humour, some angst, eventual smut

Chapter summary: Hoping for a new beginning, you make a decision and end up at Bangtan Inc. looking for a chance. And somehow unbeknownst to you make a life-defining choice.

Chapter word count: 10k

Next part | Series masterlist

Warnings: not much really - a lot of exposition and some spooky stuff happening, sad ghost backstory, jimin is a little shit, yoongi being effortlessly waaaay too hot while also being adorable and sweet

A/N: here we go folks, the first chapter of our sweet autumnal spooky story! i had such a blast writing this, it's been so amazing to work with the Lockwood&Co universe (it made me reread the first book, again), and this story satisfies something in me that yearns for comfort and coziness, so enjoy! as always, i'd love any kind of feedback or response, so don't be shy and comment, reblog, send me an ask!

divider by the amazing @saradika-graphics

Standing face to face with the old-timey mansion, I didn’t really know how to feel.

It looked fairly inconspicuous in the daylight – just another old expensive house built on this street. It was half hidden behind a stone wall, the wrought iron gate giving me a little peek into the bleary autumnal garden slowly getting covered up with fallen leaves.

There was an iron sign nailed to the wall that read “BANGTAN INC., paranormal investigations” and I gave it a long look.

A new beginning, hopefully, was waiting for me beyond this gate, and I gulped, steeling myself into finally ringing the bell instead of just endlessly shuffling around on the street like a weirdo. I felt the pressure of the paper on which I’d written down the address burning through my pocket. It was just a job interview, and yet it felt like a pivotal moment in my life. It was this or back home, to the cold god-forgotten mountains and that prick Lee. He’d have a field day with me if I crawled back, and that’s why I had to ace this.

“I wouldn’t go in there,” a deep voice from somewhere behind me uttered, a touch of amusement to his words. I jerked around, too consumed by my own thoughts to take notice of my surroundings, even with my heightened senses.

A hybrid stood there, a mischievous expression painting his face. He was pretty tall and built, hair cut fairly short and swept off of his face with two black rounded ears standing in attention amidst those spiky waves. His face was rounded and soft. When my eyes slid down towards his hips, there was no tail. He was most probably a bear.

“I’m sorry?” I asked him, subtly trying to search the air for any noticeable scents, but the air was a little too crisp to carry anything. The man only giggled and stepped a little closer.

“I said,” he replied, “I wouldn’t go in there. Heard the house is haunted.” He brought up his hand to wiggle his fingers in a spooky gesture, trying his hardest to sell the scare, but losing to his own amused snickers.

“Hauntings only manifest after sun-down,” I cited monotonal, subconsciously turning my head to check the greyish blue sky. It was still early afternoon and even though autumn was coming, it wouldn’t start getting dark for another few hours.

The hybrid pouted, sad that he couldn’t scare me, and I wondered what exactly was he trying to do here.

“Taehyung, stop messing with everyone walking by,” a firm voice from my left suddenly appeared, softly chiding the still pouting hybrid, “I told you a thousand times.”

Another hybrid appeared suddenly from my periphery and I couldn’t believe I completely missed his presence on the empty street. He must have been walking over and I just didn’t hear him. Or maybe he came from the neighbouring house?

He was of similar height, broad-shouldered but slim. His attractive face was pulled into an amicable polite smile and the brown rounded ears flicked towards me in interest as he took me in. Another bear.

“Hello, dear,” he said towards me, tone much kinder in that ‘I’m talking to a stranger’ sort of way, “Are you a client? Do you need help with a haunting?” There was something undeniably eager in his voice and it gave me a little pause. They were Bangtan Inc.

Caught red-handed loitering in front of their house, I panicked and did something very stupid.

“Y-yeah,” I stuttered out maybe a little too fast, lying through my teeth – but the men didn’t notice, no. Their faces immediately brightened, postures straightening. 

“Amazing!” the newcomer exclaimed, hands clapping together. He almost threw himself towards the gate, fumbling with the lock for a few seconds before it creaked open and he invited me to step in with a wide gesture, a tinge of nervousness to him like he was afraid I’d turn around and run.

I didn’t. Instead I offered my own hopefully easy smile and nervously fiddled with my wool hat, hoping it still effectively covered my ears, as I accepted and slowly started on the walk over to the main entrance of the house. The giggley from before quickly slipped in as well, shuffling cutely by the broad-shouldered man’s side.

I had just stepped on the first stone stair of the veranda when the door flew open and I startled, foot slipping on the damp surface. Before I even had the time to yelp, there was a hand on my lower back supporting me.

“Oh my! Be careful!”

“Hyung!”

A few shouts rang out at the same time, but I barely even listened. My hand shot out, almost slapping myself in my own face, trying to keep the headwear in place. I felt my ears twitching underneath it, but it stayed firmly on.

“Thank you,” I muttered, righting myself again and looking towards the third hybrid, “sorry for the inconvenience.”

“No no no, none at all,” the handsome hybrid said, “it was Hoseokie’s fault, he should have been more careful with the door.”

The new hybrid standing in the door was looking at me sheepishly, an embarrassed blush painting his face pink.

“I’m sorry,” he said plainly, red fox ears twitching in his curly hair, “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Hoseokie, please bring our new client inside and into the sitting room,” there was an understanding that ran through them at the word client, and immediately the fox, Hoseok, turned all professional and beckoned me inside with a practiced friendly smile.

Giggley said nothing since the other bear’s arrival, only hung around in the back of the group, watching me with a strange kind of excitement.

“Please, please, through here,” I found myself pulled through the door and the main hall, under a pretty arch with wooden beams carved into branches with leaves and into what I presumed must have been the aforementioned sitting room.

I wasn’t even sure what that was, must have been a rich people house thing.

The happy fox was flitting around me, fussing with my light coat and assuring me I can step inside with my shoes on. After a barrage of questions about refreshments he danced out of the room, presumably into the kitchen to fetch the promised tea and biscuits.

There was no trace of the other two hybrids, but I heard movement through the house – someone calling a name I couldn’t fully decipher, heavy steady footsteps through a hall, a distant buzz of conversation. Signs of living.

The house smelt happy, lived in. I wanted to go find giggley and argue with him – this house wasn’t haunted; it was a home.

Shuffling a little on the armchair, I felt nervousness sink in. Now that I was here in this situation, I had no idea how to get out of it. The scent suppressant I sprayed on in the morning was going to protect me for a little while more, but if someone really tried I would no doubt be sniffed out without a problem. My ears started to hurt from how I pressed them down in order to not have a suspiciously twitchy hat and no matter how I tried to manoeuvre myself onto the chair, I couldn’t avoid sitting on my tail that was tucked and hidden into the long skirt I wore and protectively curled around my thigh.

I wasn’t even trying to fool them – I wanted the job they offered on the dingy website and for that I had to be a hybrid, but it was easier travelling through the city while pretending to be human – people stared less, whispered less about ghosts and death. It kind of just snowballed from when they assumed I was a client. No other reason for a human to be hanging about a paranormal investigations agency.

I shouldn’t have agreed, but then a strange fear choked me – I wasn’t ready to go in and ask for a chance. It seemed like a great idea to just scope them out, but now it was painfully obvious to me from their joy that not many clients walked through that gate and now I didn’t know how to tell them I wasn’t one.

Before I could spiral further, two hybrids walked into the room – Hoseok and one I haven’t met yet. He was tall, even taller than the two bears, and muscled. Strength radiated off of him, an aura of power that shocked me into silence as I eyed him with something suspiciously close to awe. Something about him was pressing onto my instincts, blanketing my brain with a layer of rightness, safeness. I fought myself not to submit then and there and embarrassment flooded through me.

But at least I wasn’t the only one – from where my eyes caught onto his greyish wolf ears I saw them twitch nervously and then I realised he was actually blushing under my stare, to which I burst into flames even further and politely shifted my eyes to the little table in front of me.

I heard Hosoek’s snickers, but from his relaxed stance I deduced I probably wasn’t the first to get caught into the lure of this hybrid’s aura. It would surprise me if I was.

He cleared his throat, awkwardly shifting from foot to foot and still a little pink, before he regained a little bit of his professionality back.

“Good afternoon, Miss,” he recited smoothly, deep voice like honey, and I blushed a little more, pointedly avoiding Hoseok’s amused eyes, “thank you for choosing our agency to help with your little problem. O-or not little, I mean, it could be a big problem. We can definitely handle anything though, you don’t have to worry.” He stuttered through his little speech miserably, shooting a shy glance towards his companion who was watching with fond eyes.

“Oh Joon,” the little sigh came from behind me and I twirled around to once again come face to face with the brown bear, the man still smiling kindly, “Don’t worry dear, he always gets stuttered up like that.”

He stepped into the room and stuck out his hand in an offered handshake. I quickly fumbled to get on my feet, alleviating the pressure on my poor tail and stumbling in the process, but this time I righted myself before any of the men could. I grabbed his hand with cheeks still red, but with a shy smile back.

“I’m Kim Seokjin,” he introduced himself and then gestured towards the wolf, “and that is Kim Namjoon. He is the owner and the director of Bangtan Inc.” I moved along, offering my hand to the blushing man as well and he took it eagerly yet gently.

I was so distracted by the soft calming grip of his hand that I didn’t even notice the way the wolf sniffed the air and froze, smile melting off into a frown. Namjoon took a step back and his hand got torn out of my hold, and I looked up in alarm worried something happened.

And something did. The man was watching me with apprehension, no trace of the smiling shy man – in his place stood a powerful hybrid sensing a threat. And I immediately understood what happened.

“W-wait!” I exclaimed, “I can explain, I promise!”

The other two hybrids in the room also took a cautious step back, following the director’s lead and I realised – they must have been a pack and he must have been their alpha. That would explain the reaction of my body I was faced with upon seeing him for the first time.

“Why are you trying to sneak into my house?” the question came out a lot unfriendlier than I was used from these hybrids, but I couldn’t blame him – I had unknowingly tried to cheat the alpha of the house and that was a big offense between hybrids, especially since I was a stranger to his pack.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to,” I whispered, also slowly backing away from the man now that he was so high-strung about my proximity. His packmates watched us with confusion, but I saw the realisation slowly sink into their faces, so I decided to stop the farce and reached for the hat, yanking it off. It was impolite to keep headwear on inside anyway, and I know that wasn’t lost on Hoseok since he tried to take it off for me even though I insisted on keeping it.

Their gasps were less shocked by now, both of them anticipating something like that to be the revelation, but I was sure it was more a reaction to opening a whole new level of information about me. The ears were undeniably feline, even though I wouldn’t blame them for not recognising them, and now that I finally unfurled my tail, it started peeking out from the bottom of my long skirt – that was the one cons about it – it was very long, impractically so.

I saw their eyes trained on the fluffy tip of the appendage, their faces written with their attempts to guess what kind of feline I was.

Not Namjoon though, the wolf was staring me down, eyes shining bronze and posture tense, tail ram-rod straight in a show of dominance. I crumpled into myself a little, showing him I wasn’t a threat even though I entered his territory under false pretences.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you, alpha,” the name slipped out of my mouth quite naturally, even though I’ve never lived with wolves before – this man just made it easy to submit. He did relax slightly then, but his senses were still alert, no doubt driving him insane because he couldn’t fully smell me.

“I saw the job offer and I came to ask about it, but when I got surprised at the gate by the bears, I panicked and agreed to come in as a client,” I quickly explained, hoping this wouldn’t end up with me kicked out and no prospects of a future employment, “It was stupid of me, I should have thought more carefully about entering a stranger’s territory while pretending to be human.”

That seemed to have diffused the situation completely and I finally sighed out in relief when Namjoon moved, shoulders relaxed a smidge more and only a trace of mistrust on his face. I was proper ashamed though, and watching the floor with burning face, ears pressed into my head so hard it hurt.

Then I sensed Seokjin moving closer before he gently laid a hand on my shoulder, leading me back into the armchair just as Hoseok shook out of his stupor and started serving the tea and biscuits he brought over. Namjoon still stood still on the opposite side, by the dark brown sofa, but he didn’t seem as hostile anymore.

“You little dummy,” Seokjin teased, and had it been said by anyone else with a different intonation, I would have been mad, but his words only made me blush more, shy and embarrassed. Then he looked over at his packmate and tsked gently.

“Come on Joon, cut her some slack,” he chided, “she was caught off guard because Taehyung started teasing her with the whole ‘the house is haunted’ thing he does.” That had the man relaxing completely and he finally sunk down into the sofa, Hoseok joining him shortly and making himself comfortable in the huge pillows.

There was a light disapproving tint to his expression, but mostly he just looked fondly exasperated, shaking his head slightly and chuckling under his breath.

“I told him a thousand times to stop doing that, it makes people nervous and then they don’t ring the doorbell,” he muttered much the same words as Seokjin had before on the street, and the fight drained out of my body when I realised I really wasn’t going to get kicked out.

“I’m still sorry,” I piped up carefully, gathering the hot mug into my hands and cuddling up to it on instinct before I stopped myself. I’ve embarrassed myself enough for one afternoon.

“So you’re interested in the job, then?” Namjoon changed the subject smoothly, fully settling into his director persona. I nodded eagerly and watched Seokjin walk over to the sofa and sit down elegantly, direct opposite of the lounging fox that now sat with a pillow squished into his arms.

“I got interested because it mentioned you are a hybrid run agency without human supervision,” I told him and the effect of my words was clear.

Human supervision was a concept as old as PI (paranormal investigations) agencies themselves, hybrids weren’t even allowed to own and run them up until like fifty years ago, and even after human supervision was a standard occurrence.

Even though humans had no affinity for the paranormal (some were a little more sensitive to it then others, especially when it came to children) it still ingrained itself as some sort of a staple of quality of agencies – those that didn’t have human supervisors were often ostracised and disadvantaged, there were quite strong smear campaigns against them and people still held mistrust towards them.

If investigators made mistakes that cost lives or destroyed property at an agency with human supervision, nobody thought anything of it, but if the same happened in agencies without, they were often dragged through the mud and sometimes even shut down after “thorough investigations”. It was more than unfair – it was discrimination. Most humans still saw us as animals and therefore incapable of having the same judgements and freedoms as humans did. They didn’t trust the hybrids that risked their lives to make their homes safe again, they rather turned to the humans that accompanied them in and did nothing.

Most human supervisors were older, still very much in the mindset that hybrids weren’t supposed to have their own opinions, and they were absolutely useless in the face of the paranormal – they were a bunch of pricks drunk on their own power, barking orders they didn’t fully understand, putting investigators into difficult spots and overriding their decisions according to a manual that was outdated and unflexible.

But even though you truly couldn’t find a single hybrid that was happy about this still being a thing, due to the industry pressure they still rather chose to work with them – because working against them was virtually impossible and most of those little stubborn groups usually ended up bankrupt pretty fast. The biggest names were still big corporations that built their traditions on the humans in charge of the operations, and if you wanted to have a successful career or even to be able to make a living, you still had to grovel at their feet and beg for an opportunity.

The dark shadows that overtook the three hybrids’ faces at the mention of human supervision perfectly reflected the grim reality of PI industry.

“No, no humans here,” the wolf stated firmly, “we are fully operated by hybrids. We don’t allow any kind of outside intervention, during the investigations everything is fully in the hands of the operatives.” I nodded, satisfied.

“That’s good to hear,” I said, but didn’t elaborate any further. Most hybrids had bad experiences with their supervisors, so I imagine they must have understood pretty clearly where I was coming from.

“Do you have a resume?” Seokjin asked, bringing the attention back onto the topic at hand. I fumbled with my bag, fighting to pull out the slightly crumpled piece of paper that was pitifully empty, and I flushed under his inquisitive eyes when he caught sight of the free spaces.

I had pretty standard qualifications – I did have all of them, I finished all of my education, but it was nothing special. Everyone that successfully graduated from high school and finished their courses had the same ones (and there was a lot of us). There was some experience from practical education, a part-time job as a graveyard guard and a brief stint at the local office of Black Guard Corp., one of the three giants in the PI industry.

It really didn’t take a long time for the three men to skim through it, it actually felt embarrassingly fast before their gazes shifted back to me, appraising me and searching for at least a sliver of talent.

“Oh, you’re from all the way up north,” Hoseok exclaimed, “Got tired of the mountains?” I chuckled somewhat humourlessly.

“Yeah, something like that,” I muttered. A lot of reclusive communities up in the north – a lot of stigma and not much to do, so it wasn’t that strange that young people moved towards bigger cities searching for modernity and understanding.

“One of our packmates is also from the area,” Hoseok said emphatically, smiling my way, “he moved down as soon as he hit eighteen.” A noise of understanding clawed out of my throat completely unbidden and I awkwardly coughed.

“Yeah, it’s fairly normal,” I replied, “I was one of the few young people left in our village.” Silence barely settled over us when Namjoon broke it again.

“You wrote Hearing and Touch as your strongest senses,” the wolf asked, tapping at the paper where presumably those words were written, “can you elaborate on that a little?”

Those hybrids that had talent (meaning a sense for the paranormal) all mostly had a little bit of everything when it came to the three main senses – sight, smell and hearing. Even if sight wasn’t your strongest sense, you still saw just not as clearly as others. If sight was your strongest sense, you still were able to smell or hear to a certain extent. But usually every investigator had a sense that was stronger than others.

Of course there were levels – someone’s strongest sense could still be weak compared to another person, but it was what he relied upon the most when it came to gathering information about the haunting. Those who had exceptionally strong senses could manifest rare gifts tied to their talents – like those with extremely strong sight could be able to see energy traces, or those with a superior sense of hearing could actually communicate with some of the ghosts.

Touch was a bit of a wild card. It was a considerably rare gift – not that it was super hard to find someone with the capability, but that usually it was very weak. A lot of people who manifested this already rare gift couldn’t actually do much with it and mostly just caught echoes. It was also a gift that only tacked onto a heightened sense of hearing or smell, as that made it stronger.

Touch allowed for the investigator to strike up a connection between themselves and an object closely related to the ghost, it showed them visions – of the ghost’s memories, of their life. Sometimes it shed light onto their motivations to stay behind, sometimes the visions more showed what kind of person they were. Most of the times it made you go through the worst moments of their life – and their death.

It was a dangerous ability that consumed you from within, left you vulnerable. Those with particularly strong Touch often went mad through the years of endless investigations and ended up shells of their former selves.

And mine was – it was on its way there too. It was my greatest pride and my biggest weakness, all at once.

“Do you have anyone else with Touch?” I asked instead of answering at first. The trio on the couch showed their interest was definitely piqued but they let me get away with the small distraction.

Hoseok nodded at the same time as Seokjin said “yes”, and they looked at each other before the fox gestured for the bear to continue.

“We do, we have two,” he replied with a gentle smile, “Jiminie has the same set as you, but his touch isn’t particularly strong. Taehyungie, you met him outside, has smell and touch. His are a little stronger, but he mostly just complains that all he gets are terrible scents.” I chuckled at that.

“I can imagine. I used to know this ferret with the same combination and she always whined that it just makes the smells worse,” the anecdote made me relax even more as I thought back to the few good people I met through my old agency and remembered the reasons for why I stayed there for such a long time. Well, if a few months could be considered a long time. Then I took a deep breath.

“Well, both of my senses are quite… pronounced,” I admitted. People with Touch had to be careful about their talents – either it made you vulnerable to exploitation or you were seen as an emotional wreck and a liability. It was hard to say what people’s reaction would be – that’s why I always asked about their own operatives first.

“Are you getting full visions?” Namjoon asked, and his voice was carefully neutral to make me more at ease. I nodded.

“Yeah. My hearing is pretty strong too, usually I was one of the most alert ones in my team,” I told him, wringing my hands in my lap as I recalled my earlier job, “my touch was what I excelled in though. Full visions, manifestations of emotions, the whole shebang.” The men seemed a little troubled but mostly I recognised worry for my health in those gazes, and while it was one of the pitfalls, I was at least glad they didn’t seem to be strangely excited about my talents. Sometimes we could be seen as an easy way to fame and money, and I’d rather starve than work for a company like that.

“Have you ever successfully carried out a conversation with an apparition?” this time it was Seokjin who asked, and I nodded quickly.

“Once, but she was really confused,” I replied eagerly, “I wasn’t able to get much out of her, it was like she drifted in and out of awareness.” Sometimes the hearing ability worked both ways – when ghosts were weak or low levels according to the manuals, they weren’t really capable of communicating. Maybe they said something here or there, but they weren’t fully conscious and aware. The stronger the apparition, the higher the level, the bigger the chance that they would hear you and answer – but just as there was a barrier that allowed only some to hear them, the barrier carried over certain voice better than others. Therefore if you were skilled at hearing, you also had a higher chance of being heard by the ghost.

The strongest apparitions could freely hold a conversation and hear everyone, even if others couldn’t hear them. From what I read, they were usually quite the pieces of work and annoying to talk to.

“That does happen quite often,” Seokjin sighed, folding himself back into the settee, “Most of the conversations with the dead are quite frustrating. Either because they don’t hear you or because they do and you wish they didn’t.” It sounded like he truly spoke from experience, and I did have to agree with him, even though I haven’t bumped into a fully aware ghost yet. I thought it quite safe to assume Seokjin’s affinity was also hearing, then.

“Well, let me quickly introduce you to the offered position,” Namjoon hijacked the conversation again, leaning forward to look a little more professional, “There’s seven of us in total and we usually work in teams of three or four, depending on the danger level. We try to take turns, but often we found ourselves in situations where we didn’t have time both for business and for basic upkeep of the house and such.” I nodded in understanding.

“People in the summer usually feel emboldened by the long days,” the wolf continued, “so we had a slow period, but with the start of autumn and winter the fear will set in again and they’ll be desperate enough to go even to a small hybrid run agency, so we usually get busier, especially here in the local area. We need a helper. I think the offer said an assistant and a junior operative. Basically someone who will fill in the blank spaces – keep the house tidy when everyone is either busy with investigations, resting or researching. Tag along when we could use a helping hand out in the field. Make sure we’re fully stocked up, double check we have all the supplies in our bags and belts. Help out Hoseok with taking calls, caring for customers when they come here. A little bit of everything to make it easier for us, so we can fully focus on our other tasks.” I hummed again and gestured for him to continue.

“In return we offer lodging here in the house, help with training and gaining more experience with both field and off-field work, like researching, orienting yourself in libraries, archives, what you have the authorisation to do and to ask for, such things. We offer full gear – a new rapier, salt bombs, magnesium bombs, shoes, coats, protective glasses – anything you might need or ask for. We’d take you with us to investigations, show you the ropes, train you to be a full operative.” There Namjoon stopped and wavered a little, hesitation creeping into his face.

I assumed that this was where it usually all fell apart for him, so I straightened in the armchair and waited with bated breath what would follow.

“I know it seems a lot, but it could be a good opportunity,” the wolf smiled at me, the shyness and kindness he displayed earlier before I was found out shining through once more, ���Of course… it won’t pay as much as if you worked for Black Guard or the Iron Sword, but it’s still a good pay, more than enough to live comfortably. And as I said, you can live here so that will lower living costs as well…” I released a big huff in relief. I see, so he was worried about money.

The trio of hybrids didn’t seem to know how to interpret my reaction, so I gave them a huge toothy grin, a real one, that channelled just how interested I was in the position. It was perfect for me and I could use the community, the variety and the opportunity to learn.

“No, that sounds perfect,” I told him, and I meant every word of it. That put blinding smiles on their faces as well, and suddenly Hoseok was jumping to his feet and clapping his hands, once again scaring the living shit out of me.

This time he looked a lot less sheepish and a lot more amused as he said sorry, and then he was beckoning me to follow him out of the sitting room. The other two men chuckled fondly, but followed after him, nodding at me to come with them.

“We’re going to test you a little,” Namjoon explained, eyes searching the sky outside through a window in the hall, “I hope it’s not too early for a little ghostly activity.”

The sitting room was the first room you’d see when you stepped inside the house, but there was actually a similar room to the other side of the entrance hall, only stylised into a darker green instead of the browns and beiges of the one we were sitting at.

The entrance hall then opened into a huge room dominated by an old staircase leading to a little corridor that disappeared on both ends deeper into the house. The backdrop of the corridor though was an absolutely massive window made of stained glass that painted together a flowering meadow with a forest on the horizon. It was a little faded, the colours a little dull, but obviously well-loved and cared for, and it stole my breath away.

On the ground floor the room opened to corridors on the sides that similarly disappeared deeper, but on the left side there had to be a kitchen, because the corridor carried to me absolutely delicious smells, and sounds of a knife hitting a cutting board in a steady rhythm. I almost salivated upon smelling that, and wished I could weasel myself into staying for dinner, but instead I followed the men to the right, away from the tantalising scents.

We passed two sets of double doors made from dark polished wood. One was cracked open and I clearly heard giggles and a hushed conversation coming from there, recognising one of those voices as the deep baritone of the black bear that was trying to scare me outside. He was the one of the two with touch, and if I managed to get this job, I couldn’t wait to talk to them about their gift. Up in the north there was only one other girl with touch – the ferret hybrid that had smell as her other sense, but since her touch wasn’t as strong, our experiences with it were completely different.

But that’s not where we were going – the three hybrids continued to the end of the hall where another set of dark-wood doors sat firmly closed. Namjoon fished out a bundle of keys from his pants, and I couldn’t believe the chunky ball of iron fit into his trousers without bulging out uncomfortably.

There were two locks on the door and I promptly realised where he was taking me.

Every agency had a storage room – a place where all the dangerous things sat properly handled and out of reach to anyone that didn’t know how to work with them and could get hurt. That meant everything from spare rapiers and magnesium bombs to active artefacts – ghost sources with their apparitions still attached to them.

A source could be anything that bound a ghost to the place of haunting and allowed them to come back – objects that were loved during their life, objects that were tied to their death or quite straightforwardly, their remains. Sometimes the ghosts were tied to a certain space, and those cases were the most annoying, because there wasn’t much you could do about it – especially if it was a random spot in the middle of a forest or an actively lived-in house.

Operative’s job was to investigate the haunting, find the source and handle it – with salt, iron or silver, depending on the strength of the ghost. Those materials acted as a buffer and eliminated all chances of the ghost slipping through into our world again – it locked the door, one could say. Some ghosts could be chased away with a little bit of salt or a sprinkle of iron filings, but some had to have their sources wrapped in silver and destroyed in fire – those were the most dangerous ones.

Certain artefacts were allowed to be kept as trophies, even though no one really kept an eye on that. The black market was very profitable and unfortunately a lot of people that were supposed to be regulators themselves dabbled in it and collected strong active sources. So the rule of thumb was that regular sources were disposed of in the furnaces while the ones tied to famous cases were kept – people didn’t really care for grandpa Smith’s old walking stick, but they sure were interested in the remains of blood-thirsty ghosts that terrorised and killed until they were swiftly handled by an agency – getting rid of an artefact like that could be a huge PR hit for companies, and they were usually safely showed off in their headquarters to forever burn into people’s memories that they were the ones closing that case.

I assumed Namjoon was taking me to a similar trophy case to gauge the strength and depth of my senses.

Unlike the showy glass buildings of big corporations, Bangtan’s headquarters were situated in the basement under their house – it was mostly one big spacious room with walls made of red bricks and a floor of stone tiles. There were three tables there, covered in paperwork, and one wall was lined with filing cabinets, which must have been filled with old, closed cases.

A little light shined in through small oblong windows near the ceiling, so I was grateful when someone flicked a switch and artificial lights came on with a low hum.

And then I saw it – deeper into the space where two smaller rooms, cutting the space unevenly in half – and the wall facing us currently still standing by the door was covered with luminescent shelves.

It wasn’t the shelves themselves that shined – it was their contents.

There weren’t many artefacts, in fact most of the shelves were completely empty, but they made up for it with their brightness. Usually the brighter the source was, the stronger the ghost tied to it – and these were some potent sources.

I made a little panicked noise at the back of my throat, ears flattening to my head and tail flicking with agitation. I pointed towards the wall and then looked to the men with wide scared eyes.

“You can’t open those, look how bright they are even in the middle of the day!” I exclaimed and the men laughed lightly.

Namjoon leisurely made his way over towards the wall, and in my panic I followed him, heart beating out of my throat. But once there, he didn’t reach towards any of the sources encased in glass tubes infused with silver and iron for safe-keeping, he actually turned toward one of the shelves I previously thought was empty.

Only, when I came closer I realised it was lined with passive sources – ones that used to be tied to a ghost who was either destroyed and left their source behind or chose to move on, or just simply were charged with energy of a haunting and not the apparition itself. They were no longer dangerous and mostly deserted of any activity.

The wolf whispered around with the fox for a little while, hands lingering on certain objects as they deliberated on which they wanted to give me as a test. Seokjin stood to the other side of me, eyes glued to the active sources as if he looked for something specific.

I waited with bated breath to see when his eyes lit up with recognition, eager to know what it was, but I was interrupted by Namjoon’s deep voice as he beckoned me closer.

I looked to them and saw that both he and Hoseok had an object in their hands, having chosen their favourite. Namjoon carefully cradled an intricately carved wooden comb – it was absolutely beautiful and it looked very old and frail, with some of its teeth broken or missing.

He nudged his hands to me, motioning for me to pick it up.

“Tell me this comb’s story, Y/N,” he said, and the sudden appearance of my name shocked me enough to flinch in surprise. I realised I never actually introduced myself to them, the whole clusterfuck of a situation derailing the usual pleasantries – he had to have read it on my resume.

With blushing cheeks I rushed to grab it, careful to give it the same gentle consideration as the wolf did. The last thing I wanted was to break it.

At first I felt nothing. I heard the men’s breathing, the wild beating of all our hearts as the anticipation gripped us. I heard the faint clanks coming from the kitchen on the floor above. I felt my ears twitch as they tried to focus on the echoes of things long gone instead of the very present and very alive hybrids.

Anxiety spilled through me and I squirmed. Slowly I felt myself sink into panic, brain running its mouth telling me that I was useless and couldn’t even feel the object, that they’d laugh at me, they’d hate me. They’d kick me out and I’d have to go back home, embarrassed and defeated. I wouldn’t be able to impress them, I was a sham, a phony. I had nothing to offer anyone. I was worthless. Maybe I should just-

The thought startled me into a more present grounded mindset, and I ashamedly realised that due to me being nervous about the test I hadn’t noticed when I slipped into my ability. Those weren’t my thoughts, but whoever once owned this comb had a really bad time.

Shakily I dropped the comb back into Namjoon’s waiting hands, noting the concern on his face at my queasy expression. Hoseok was standing next to him still holding his own item, but his eyes were wide and a little scared.

“Are you okay dear?” Seokjin suddenly asked me, hands settling on my shoulders as he spun me around, “You suddenly got really pale.” I nodded hurriedly, using the sleeve of my sweater to dry off some of the accumulated sweat on my face.

“No, yeah, I’m fine, sorry,” I stuttered out, turning back to Namjoon and looking straight into his worried eyes, “The woman who wore this comb killed herself, didn’t she? She felt worthless – someone had left her. Maybe the very person who gave her the comb.” The devastation hit the wolf’s face as soon as I was finished speaking.

“I am so sorry, Y/N. I’ve never met anyone with touch as strong as yours, I didn’t realise you’d feel it so intensely,” he said, comb long forgotten discarded haphazardly on the shelf.

To say I was surprised would be an understatement – the genuine remorse at putting me through an experience like that, even unknowingly – it was enough to make me blush under his brown gentle eyes.

“It’s okay, it’s my ability and I’ve learnt to deal with it,” I told him softly, “I just got a little surprised, I wasn’t paying enough attention and let it suck me in a little.” He looked like he saved my words into memory for later use, like he wanted to make sure to help me along the way to not slip into the memories as easily again, and I flushed again, warmth spreading through my chest.

I’d never met anyone so invested in the well-being of their operatives. Which was quite sad, thinking about it.

“Was I right, though?” I enquired, and he shook out of his stupor, looking at me, then at the comb, then back at me and then as if everything caught up with him he nodded quickly.

“Yeah, her actual source were her remains – they got stuck deep in the mud in the river she drowned herself in, but the comb was in her hands and carried over the aura of her haunting,” the wolf explained eagerly, “she was mostly just sitting around on the bank, scaring off some of the local children who felt unsafe there due to her aura. She wasn’t dangerous at all, just really sad.” I felt a pained pang in my heart, some of the unsettled feelings and thoughts from her last moments still lingering in the corners of my soul.

“That’s incredibly heart-breaking,” I whispered, eyes glued to the beautiful accessory.

Before I could spiral any deeper into those thoughts, Hoseok awkwardly cleared his throat, hands hanging in the air between us unsure of whether he should offer the artefact or not. Everybody’s attention was drawn to him and Namjoon was just about to open his mouth to protest, when I beat him to it by grabbing the little thingy.

It was a really fancy pen, felt and looked new, like it would still write if I tried it on a piece of paper, and its ghostly traces were incredibly weak. This time I was more cautious as I examined it, rolling it around in my hands, eyes closed and fingers trying to feel every ridge, every scratch.

There wasn’t much. Almost nothing actually. I caught some waves, but they fizzled out as quickly as they appeared, leaving me with little fragments here and there. I tried again to make sure, but came to the conclusion that this item couldn’t have been tied to a haunting. It felt more like they just took it from the deceased’s house than anything else.

“Umm, are you sure this is what you wanted me to touch?” I asked hesitantly, “It’s just that there’s not much here. I feel mostly just stress from it, but it’s very fragmented.” At my words everyone in the room chuckled, Hoseok’s face heating up until he was as red as a tomato.

“Good job,” Namjoon said, snickering in amusement and looking towards the embarrassed fox, “this isn’t an actual haunted item or an artefact. It’s one of those fancy pens they advertise to ghost hunters because it has an outer layer of silver on it. Well, Hoseokie-hyung here bought it as a joke and it ended up saving his life. But turns out that the energy of coming into contact with ghost plasm holds onto it well and it’s kind of cursed now.” That definitely caught my attention and I looked at the hybrid who was shooting daggers into the wolf.

“He was being a big old dummy and while handling the sources marked for destruction he dropped one and the case broke,” Seokjin jumped in to continue the story, “he had nothing but the pen in hand and he had to fend off a very angry and a very confused apparition. We heard him screaming and all ran here as fast as we could to see him running around the basement waving around a silver pen and hysterically yelling at a ghost.” At this point I was giggling along with the men, the fox laughing along too as if he saw the visual his mate was painting as well.

“It was the best day of my life,” Namjoon sighed through snickers, “I almost didn’t want to help him because it was too funny.”

“I love to hear that you’d let me die for your entertainment, Joonie,” the man in question grumbled, but it was all in good nature, that much was obvious through their fond looks they threw each other.

As the laughter died down, a more serious expression settled onto Seokjin’s face and he gazed back onto the shelves with active sources, this time eyes immediately locking onto a specific case that glowed strongly with cold, steely blue light.

The other two men quietened the second they recognised what the bear was looking at, ears flinching and flattening to their heads.

“I was curious about what you’d tell us about an item we have here,” Seokjin started explaining, a far-away look in his eyes, “but seeing how strong of a reaction you had to the comb, I think we better not.” I looked towards the case, head tilted in consideration.

It was obvious there was something different, something strange, about that specific artefact – and judging by their nervous stances it wasn’t anything good.

“I can try,” I said easily, moving towards the shelf. Seokjin made an aborted panicked sounds, hands shooting up to stop me, but ultimately he let me walk past him and do what I wanted. I turned back, looking at the men watching me with scared but curious expressions, I steeled myself and looked at it properly.

It was fairly small – a single skeleton finger with a bejewelled ring stuck onto it. I wasn’t sure what they exactly expected from that. I clearly couldn’t take it out as the apparition would no doubt immediately manifest, and you really couldn’t feel through the glass.

But oh how quickly I realised I was wrong about that. I raised my hand, hearing the gasps of the three hybrids, reached for it and promptly stopped. I felt almost paralysed with the wave of dark resentful energy rolling off of it in thick waves, so thick that I was almost choking on them.

Whoever that ghost was, he was strong, angry and dangerous enough for his energy to manifest even through protective silver casing. Panic gripped me, just blind fear that this shouldn’t be here – this shouldn’t be anywhere. Suddenly I was stumbling back, tripping over my own feet to put distance between me and whatever that thing was.

My wild terrified eyes found Namjoon’s own worried ones and I couldn’t hold back a whimper clawing its way out of my throat.

“What the fuck,” I gritted through my teeth, “is that? Why the fuck is that here?” The alpha seemed to be fighting off his instincts, my palpable fear and the whimper must have put him in for a spin to try and calm me down, but we didn’t know each other at all for any attempts to be appropriate.

I realised I was shaking, the hand with which I almost grabbed the artefact cold and frozen to the bone.

“It was one of our biggest cases,” Seokjin whispered, voice gentle and monotone as he slowly started moving towards me trying not to scare me more, “a nasty piece of shit, a killer in life and a killer in death. Jimin refuses to get any closer to it, says it gives him the creeps even through the glass. He’s been telling us it has an aura even through the protection case and here or there tries to persuade us to get rid of it. None of us can feel much, just that it has bad energy, so I got curious… I’m glad you didn’t touch it. Those are some memories you don’t want to see.”

The bear hybrid managed to get all the way to me, his soft grip to my shoulder grounding me into the present and finally breathing some warmth back into my frozen scared body. I relaxed enough to let him start dragging me back towards the stairs, the two other hybrids guiltily tagging along.

“Jimin has a fucking point,” I replied, “That thing should be destroyed.” There was still a slight tremble to my hands, and I realised for the first time that day I was feeling extremely cold. I mechanically forced my feet to carry me a stair after a stair, yearning for the cosy vibe of the sitting room and the delicious smells coming from the kitchen.

“Told you,” a new voice joined us from up the stairs and I jerked to look up, coming face to face with a pretty boy with big eyes and plump lips. White ears stuck out excitedly from a mop of black silky hair, but I couldn’t gauge what kind of hybrid he was.

“Jimin,” Seokjin sighed, pulling me closer to his side, “please go start up a fire in the green room.” The boy said nothing more, only winked at me good-naturedly and then disappeared back into the house.

When we made it into the green room – which was the sitting room across the one we were in before – there indeed was a fireplace and an excited hybrid loading it with wood. I looked at his snow-white fluffy tail, the shape of it flaring out a little towards the end, and realised he was another fox, an arctic one. He must have been the hybrid Hoseok was talking about before, the one that moved down here from up north.

“After that I’m afraid I must insist you stay for dinner,” Seokjin spoke again, voice firm and leaving no space for objections. And it was the polite thing to do, to object and pretend like I wasn’t dying to sit down by the fire and eat, but just that afternoon I wouldn’t – I was too tired and too shaken. I wanted that damn food and I’d take it.

“Thank you so much,” I whispered only, letting the man fuss over me with a blanket. Shortly after he ushered Namjoon and Hoseok away with him, muttering something about guests and Yoongi, which I didn’t fully comprehend.

Jimin still sat down by the fireplace, kindling the little fire and feeding it paper, but then he turned to me and watched me with interested curious eyes for a moment.

“You got the touch?” he asked finally, and I simply nodded. Another moment of silence.

“Did you touch the finger?” this question came a little quieter. I saw the warring emotions in his eyes – excitement over meeting someone with the same gift, apprehension of the cursed object and a worry over my well-being. I was grateful to him, to his easy friendliness that put me at ease.

“No… I couldn’t,” I whispered the reply, but he understood, he did all too well. He gave me an empathetic smile, which quickly melted into a smirk.

“Maybe now Joonie-hyung will finally listen to me and do something about that awful thing,” he teased, giggling and pulling me along with him.

I was just about to open my mouth with my own smart remark when a new face stormed into the room, immediately stopping in his tracks upon seeing me bundled up in the blankets in an armchair by the fire.

He was small, noticeably so once Seokjin arrived as well and stood next to him, but his form was obviously strong and lean, a quite typical build for a classically trained operative. He must have been a terror with rapiers, it was written all over him.

“Aish, I leave you three alone for an hour and this is what you do?” he scolded the guiltily looking trio, “Look at that poor kid, you totally traumatised her!” Jimin on the ground was giggling, watching their pulled back ears with delight, but I just sheepishly sunk further into the chair, cheeks pink over how strongly the unknown hybrid defended me.

Movement by his legs caught my eye and I finally noticed the kind of hybrid he was – that was definitely a white tiger tail swishing wildly behind him! I physically felt my ears perk up as my back straightened and my own tail raised in interest, which brought even more colour to my cheeks and stuttered up the black-haired man in the middle of his spiel.

Soon he was blushing too, and I realised he was reading my body language and I’ve just given myself away, quite spectacularly.

I felt the intense need to explain myself but there wasn’t really much to say – I was excited to meet another feline hybrid, one that wasn’t of my own community – because I’ve never met another cat outside the ones I grew up with, and those weren’t exactly great. But I just looked like I totally had the hots for him (which I totally didn’t).

“N-no- I mean- I just- I’ve never met a tiger hybrid,” I finally pushed out, ignoring Jimin’s teasing shit-eating grin where he sat by my feet next to the fireplace. Namjoon, Hoseok and Seokjin were watching me with open fascination, which was definitely better than the anger I was imagining they would feel over me obviously being into their mate (which I wasn’t!!! It was a misunderstanding, nothing more!!!).

The tiger in question shifted on his feet, hand going to scratch behind the striped ear, his own characteristics now betraying a curiosity and interest on his part. His gaze swept over my features, passive but warm.

“You’re a snow leopard, aren't you?” he asked and where Namjoon’s voice was deep and smooth, Taehyung’s voice was deep and sweet, this hybrid’s voice was deep and raspy, sending me into a whole new spiral at hearing it.

I barely even managed to nod, embarrassedly pulling my tail and pushing it into my lap before it divulged even more of my secrets. Jimin was smirking at me as if he knew exactly what I was going through, and I kind of wanted to kick him a little.

“I suppose you came down here fairly recently then? Your folk only mostly only lives up in the mountains and they’re pretty reclusive…” he asked some more, angling more towards me and I felt my treacherous tail twitch in my hands.

“Yeah, it was a pretty tight community,” I told him easily, “They’re not exactly… forward and… open-minded.” It felt weird to be sharing such a private information with people I’d just met a few hours ago, but apart from the fact that this was something mostly all hybrids kind of knew, in those hours they managed to make me trust their judgement and believe that even if I wouldn’t end up getting employed by them, they still cared for my comfort.

But subverting all my expectations, the hybrid who up until now stayed fairly neutral even with a soft blush to his cheeks suddenly smirked at me, taking in my wide-eyes and flushed face before saying: “Well, it’s an honour for me to be your first tiger.” and walking out nonchalantly.

The trio that he originally came in here while scolding them stood there wordlessly, eyes flitting between my embarrassed form, a little too amused Jimin and the empty space where the tiger used to stand. Then Hoseok made a non-descript delighted noise in the back of the throat, launching into a sprint while screaming at the top of his lungs: “Jungkookie, you have competition!”

I was very much confused, but judging from Namjoon’s embarrassed blush and Jimin’s outright evil snickers, I probably didn’t want to know.

Seokjin smiled blindingly and then walked away again, while Namjoon slowly slinked into the room and made himself comfortable at the other armchair, still watching me glare at the laughing Jimin with wide eyes.

“Well, I certainly didn’t expect this outcome when you sneaked in today,” the wolf muttered, but there was a grin gently pulling at his lips. I was too embarrassed to banter and the attempt at a smile came out more as a grimace, so I just sunk deeper into the armchair and stubbornly looked on into the fire, ignoring the two giggling men.

“I’m sorry though,” Namjoon said quietly suddenly. I looked at him confused and I was surprised by the guilty expression on his face. “I’m sure this wasn’t the most pleasant of first meetings,” the hybrid muttered sheepishly, a bit of shame settled into his features.

“Namjoon-ssi, I made the decision to touch the source,” I told him firmly, hoping to alleviate some of his worry, “Seokjin-ssi was clear that I probably shouldn’t, but I wanted to try. You did nothing wrong.” The wolf didn’t seem much appeased, but he at least eased up a little, a little bit of determination creeping into his eyes.

“I’m going to get a bigger case and put it as a second barrier,” he proudly stated, more to himself than to us, and me and Jimin shared a glance before promptly bursting out into a fit of giggles. A sort of warmth settled into me, especially as distinctly recognisable voice of the brown bear shouted from somewhere that dinner will be ready shortly.

“Would be foolish to hope you’d like to accept the offer?” the question came out of nowhere, even Namjoon himself looking a little shy though he was the one who said it. I froze. Jimin stopped laughing. The happy chatter flowing in from the kitchen died down and everything settled into a buzz of anticipation.

The house was suddenly plunged into silence that I hadn’t heard since I stepped in, and the longer I was shocked at his words, the more I could see the alpha spiral that I’d inevitably reject him.

“I wasn’t aware you were waiting for my answer,” I uttered, teasing cheekiness creeping into my voice, and Jimin’s face once more morphed into a beautiful smile, “But I’d love to accept.” Namjoon smiled in relief, but both of our attentions were snatched by giggles coming from the artic fox.

“Of course she accepts hyung,” Jimin reiterated, “she wants to keep her first tiger.”

I’d never wished for the ground to swallow me so hard as I did in that moment.

Thank you for reading <3

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[allthesethingswillendsoon]

Long, long time

CHAPTER ONE: Welcome to Oakridge

SUMMARY: Following the abrupt departure of Amy Bueckers, Bob moves himself and Paige to the quiet, unassuming town of Oakridge, Virginia in the hopes of having a fresh start. There, they meet the Fudd family, their neighbors from across the street. Paige and Azzi are quick to hit it off and so begins their story.

NOTE: This is so nerve-wracking as this is the first like fanfiction thing I've ever written let alone published. I don't think this chapter is very good but that doesn't really matter because it's the first one and I just wanted to get it done with. For reference they are both born in 2001 just to make it easier with grades and stuff, also this story doesn't involve them playing basketball (so no UConn or anything like that) as I felt I didn't know enough for it to actually make any sense. The series doesn't have a name, and I don't know how long that will be the case for. Also I really don't understand how to use tumblr so it might take a while for me to make the posts aesthetic and whatever so yeah. I plan for this series to span like years and years of their lives with ups and downs.

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Warnings: Parent leaving. 2k words Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Azzi Fudd

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28th OF AUGUST 2008

OAKRIDGE, VIRGINIA

The crisp morning air of Oakridge came as a pleasant surprise to Bob and Paige Bueckers. It was six AM, and after hours and hours the father-daughter duo had finally found their way to Virginia. Their worldly possessions were being held in the U-Haul rental truck they had driven there with. Amongst those possessions were a variety of important things, Paige’s kindergarten graduation cap, the remnants of her first haircut, and her mother’s last note to them before leaving.

To say Bob was happy for a fresh start would be a complete understatement, Minnesota had just been too much for him. Around every corner was a reminder of what they had lost, and what they could never ever get back. The stress had nearly cracked him, and on one particularly low-spirited evening, once Paige was tucked soundly in her bed, Bob had started the process of selling their house and buying a new one. The day after Paige’s kindergarten graduation, the final boxes were packed and the duo set off across the country to their new home, to their new start.

There it was, the start of the rest of their lives right there in front of them. 

He had been able to find their house for a lovely, reasonable price. It was the perfect size, three bedrooms, two bathrooms and a spacious backyard; perfect for the dog Bob had promised Paige. The outside of the house was painted a soft blue, complemented by the white picket fence and flower beds bordering the perimeter of their block.

“Dad! Can we go inside?! I wanna look around! Please!” Paige begged, tugging her dad towards the front door. 

“Yeah, sure thing honey, give me a second.” He responded, glad to have been snapped out of his reminiscing.

Paige ran up the front porch steps, her dad in tow behind her. As Bob stood at the door fumbling around with the keys he had a moment to realise the severity of the situation. They were in a brand new state, in a tiny town, away from everything either of them had ever known without any kind of support system whatsoever. 

He couldn’t say he wasn’t ashamed, and angry, and depressed, the love of his life and mother of his child had just packed up and left, for no apparent reason and without even saying a proper goodbye to their daughter. That’s what really got him, Paige loved her parents more than anything, and explaining to Paige that mommy’s just not here anymore led to more tears than he’d like to admit. The fact that she would one day think it was her fault that Amy left, that it was because Amy didn’t love her enough killed Bob, and he wasn’t sure what he was going to do when that day came.

Perfect. Just perfect. 

What was he going to do? What if something went wrong? What if Paige needed a babysitter? 

They had left their family behind in Edina, Minnesota, and not a second had passed since leaving them that they were not missed. But it was necessary, in every conversation he had with his family and Amy’s family, there was always a massive, gaping, all-consuming hole in the conversation. Without fail, every time, Bob fell in.

But that was what made Virginia so perfect though, it was away from everything and everyone they used to know. And as far as Paige had shown, she didn’t mind the change much, her happy-go-lucky nature was sure to make her friends no matter the area.

With a click the door swung open. 

As they walk inside, the smile that falls over Paige’s face makes all the pain and struggle worth it.

“I love it Dad! I love it!” She squeals, her face scrunched in happiness as she skipped around the bottom floor of the house, trailing her grubby little hands over every surface she could reach.

“I’m so glad honey.” He grins, her excitement contagious.

“I love it! I love it! I love it! I looooove it!” 

“You wanna go upstairs and see your room?” Bob questions.

“Yes, yes, yes!” With that she’s off, her little legs struggling as she takes the stairs two steps at a time. Bob follows suit, walking into Paige’s room to find her lying on the floor starfished.

“Do you remember what I said P?” He starts.

Almost faster than the speed of light she’s standing in front of him, big blue eyes piercing into his soul.

“Do you mean it really? Any colour?” 

He chuckles lightly. “Yeah honey, any colour you want.”

“Purple! Purple! Purple! I want purple!”

“Yeah honey. I think I can get you some purple paint.”

She throws herself into his arms at those words.

“Yay Dad, I love it here!”

The way she says those words, and the way her face is lit up with her smile makes Bob think that it might all be okay.

29th OF AUGUST, 2008

OAKRIDGE, VIRGINIA

After a long week in the Fudd household it was finally Saturday, and that meant family fun day!

This week it was Azzi’s choice of activity. Much to her brother’s dismay she had chosen to plant flowers in the front garden. On Thursday, when her dad had gotten off work they had hopped in the car and driven to the plant nursery, where Azzi had selected delicate pink flowers to decorate the front yard, ‘Carnations’ the plant lady had said. 

Azzi had left the nursery, struggling slightly under the weight of the flower pot, yet still not allowing Tim Fudd to help her, despite incessant offers to.

She had picked her special spot in the front yard and was ready to depot the flowers. But when she woke up on Saturday and shovelled her breakfast in her mouth in the hopes of getting to family fun day faster she had come to the realisation that she was without a shovel, and effectively without a way to plant the flowers.

After a few (a lot) of tears, Katie and Tim packed their kids into the minivan and were off to Home Depot in search of a small pink shovel for Azzi.

As they scoured the aisles, their search was proving to be hopeless and the family’s hope was quickly dwindling.

After a second and third lap of the store, Azzi’s bottom lip began shaking, her eyes welling with tears, and before long she was planted on the floor, tears pooling out of her big brown eyes.

“I want the shovel! I neeeeeeeed the shovel!” She wailed.

“I know honey, but they just don’t have it. I’m sorry, we’ll try again next week.” Katie soothed, trying to deescalate the situation.

“But mom, I need it! How can I plant my flowers without it?” Azzi shrieked, now hitting her hands and legs against the hard concrete floor.

Before Katie could respond a little body with a big voice appeared in front of Azzi.

“What do you need? I bet I could find it for you, I’m really good at finding things!”

Azzi sniffled, wiping her nose before lifting her head to look at the girl before her.

She had bright blue eyes, a pale complexion and light blonde hair. She was taller than Azzi and a little gangly. Most notably, she had a slightly nervous smile and an inviting hand outstretched to her.

“I need a shovel. So I can plant my flowers.” She mumbled, still staring up at the other girl with her watery eyes.

“I like flowers, I’ll help you!” The girl responded, her face now empty of nerves and lit up with excitement.

Azzi grabbed onto her hand and before she could say anything to her parents she was being dragged through the store by the other girl.

“No, not here.” 

“Not here either.”

“Hmmm where could they be?”

The random girl’s remarks could be heard from across the store as they made their way through aisle after aisle, hand in hand.

“Where are they? Why can’t we find them?” Azzi huffed, coming to an abrupt stop, yanking her hand from the other girl’s.

“I’m not sure. I’m sorry. I’m really trying to find them.” The girl rambled, nerves creeping back onto her face as she watched Azzi’s eyes well with tears once again.

“It’s okay, it’s not your fault.” Azzi said, sadness momentarily forgotten as she looked at her new friend.

“What’s your name?” She continued.

“Paige. What’s yours?” Paige replied.

“Azzi”

“Nice to meet you Azzi, I’m Paige” With that Paige stuck out her hand, “Want to be friends?”

A split second of silence falls over them.

“Yeah Paige, let’s be friends!” Azzi takes her hand, both girls shaking with enthusiasm.

“Y’know I think my dad might have a shovel. We should go ask if we can borrow it!” Paige suggested, voice high-pitched with excitement.

“Is it pink?” Azzi questioned, her brows furrowed in anticipation.

“Ummmm. I don’t think so.” Paige replied.

“Hmmm. That's alright.” Azzi decided.

“Yay! Let’s go ask.”

—-

Paige and Azzi’s laughter reverberated off the walls of the Home Depot as they skipped back to their parents.

They had been standing together, making small talk and introductions. As they did so they realised that they lived on the same street a few houses apart. 

“Dad! Dad! We need to get our shovel so Azzi can plant her flowers!” Paige huffed as the pair came to stand in front of their parents.

“Slow down honey, start over.” Bob responded, unable to comprehend his daughter’s mumbling.

“Can-we-get-our-shovel-so-Azzi-can-plant-her-flowers. Please?” Paige says, leaving a comically large gap between each word.

“Yeah, sure, we can lend the shovel to our new neighbours.” Bob shrugs.

“NEIGHBOURS?!” The girls squeal in sync.

“Yeah, Az they moved into Mrs Mckinlay’s house, y’know the blue one?” Tim explained.

“That’s so close, yay Paige!” Azzi exclaimed.

“Dad, since we live so close, could I pleeeeease help Azzi with her flowers?” Paige begged, putting on her puppy dog eyes and pouting.

“Well I don’t see any issue with it if you guys don’t mind.” Bob says.

“That’s fine with us, the more the merrier.” Katie responds, smiling at the blossoming friendship between the two girls.

“Then it’s settled, time to go and plant some flowers!”

“But it's a family fun day!” Azzi’s brother’s chime in.

“Shut up sillies! I want to be with my best friend Paige!” Azzi flicked the two boys.

“AZZI! That is no way to behave.” Her dad scolded.

“Okay I’m sorry, can we go now?” She apologised.

“Yeah we can go.” 

“Me and Paige just need to check out, gotta buy our paint.” Bob explained, holding up the bucket of purple paint.

“I’m painting my room purple! Wanna come see it when it’s done Azzi?”

“Yes! Yes! Yes!”

—--

The Bueckers and the Fudds met up in the street, and after ten minutes of Bob scavenging through their shed boxes, he was able to procure the elusive shovel.

“Here we go.” He said as the pair walked into the Fudd’s front lawn, passing the shovel to Azzi.

“Yay! Thanks Mr. Paige’s dad! C’mon Paige let’s go plant the flowers!”

They worked hard, light sheens of sweat covering their little foreheads from the late summer heat. Planting carnations was taxing work they discovered.

Once they placed the final flower down in the ditch, Azzi turned to Paige.

“Paige, I have a question.”

“What is it?”

“Will you officially be my best friend please? Cause I know I said you were before but I wanted to ask if you wanted to be.” Azzi mumbled, slightly nervous for the girl’s response.

“Yeah Azzi, I’m your best friend, and you’re mine, now and forever and ever and ever!”

“Pinky promise?”

“Double pinky promise.”

Their parents watch from the front porch as their daughters interlink pinkies and giggle together over everything and nothing.

It was clear Paige and Azzi were going to be in each other’s lives for a long, long time.

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Okay I hope that was alright and set up the story well enough. Thanks for reading :)

[musicforastylesrestaurant]

Hi! I don't know if you already have an idea for the birthday post, if you do feel free to ignore this...my favourite trope is dad!harry too...what if H has to go for an emergency meeting somewhere else out the country even before his birthday and he has to spend his birthday there too and he is bummed about it...the fmc can fly out with their daughter/son and when he is back from his meeting his room is all decorated and stuff and she tells him she asked jeff to cancel everything...and they do a bunch of fun stuff but at night, after dinner she and the baby surprise him with another baby or something and he is like best birthday ever, 30 is already amazing

Happy 30th Birthday, Baby.

masterlist || ask me anything <3

authors note - thank you so much to @missbearforfun for sending in this request, ive had had a fun time writing this, ive changed a few things up, so i hope that ive done it justice.

i can’t believe that my boy is 30….like i swear he was just auditioning for the x-factor yesterday. 🥹

word count - 4.4k

in which, harry gets called to do a meeting in italy, two days before his birthday, which means that he’ll be spending his 30th out there with just his manager jeff, what he doesn’t realise is that you, his darling wife, fly out to surprise him and hopefully give him the best birthday he’s ever had.

You’ve been in Harry’s life for just over ten years.

You’ve spent five of those years as boyfriend and girlfriend, two of those years as his fiancé, and now, this year will be leading up to the third year being each other's husband and wife.

The first birthday of his that you spent with him, was his 20th all the way back in 2014. He had organised an intimate get together at a restaurant full of all of his closest family and friends, and it was the first time that you would be turning up together, as an official couple seeing as the only people who knew about the two of you were his band mates and his mother,sister, father and step father.

It was also the night that he confessed to you that he loved you, and that you were the one person that he couldn’t wait to spend the rest of his life with.

From that moment on, every birthday became a cherished chapter in your shared history.

Waking up in each other's arms has become a comforting tradition, marking the beginning of a day dedicated solely to celebrating Harry's existence. The warmth of those morning embraces symbolises the depth of your connection, a connection that has withstood the tests of time.

As the years unfolded, you've witnessed the evolution of Harry, both in age and character, yet the love between you two has remained unwavering.

From his 21st to his 30th birthday, you've made it a point to spend the day in a way that brings him joy. Whether it's exploring new places, indulging in his favourite activities, or simply relaxing together, the focus has always been on creating memories that reflect the essence of Harry.

Each birthday has become a canvas on which you paint moments of happiness and shared experiences.

You had spent every birthday with him, but for this one, it appeared to already be turning out in a way neither of you had expected.

A mere few days before Harry's anticipated birthday, an unexpected call from his manager, Jeff, sent ripples of disappointment through his plans. The urgency of an issue related to his beauty brand, Pleasing, required Harry's immediate attention in the Italy.

The brand we’re thinking of opening a pop-up shop over there, seeing as the country held so much adoration in both of your hearts, it was the place where you got married, the place where he proposed and where he now wanted his fans over there to have access to him and what he had to offer.

With flights already booked, he faced the heart-wrenching reality of having to leave just over two days before his special day. Devastation etched across his face as he contemplated the unforeseen disruption to the birthday celebration he had eagerly anticipated.

In a desperate attempt to reason with Jeff, Harry explained his deep desire to spend his birthday with you, sharing the disappointment that overshadowed the joy of the impending celebration.

However, the urgency of the matter prevailed, leaving Harry torn between personal desires and professional obligations. As his best mate and manager, Jeff empathised with Harry but emphasised the gravity of the situation, reinforcing the necessity of this unexpected journey.

Amidst the disappointment, you stepped in to comfort Harry, assuring him that celebrations could be postponed but his presence and well-being mattered most. You offered solace, reminding him that distance could not diminish the love and connection you shared.

The promise of a belated but equally meaningful celebration upon his return brought a glimmer of hope to the gloom that hung over his imminent departure.

You had promised him, that you would FaceTime him on his actual birthday and that you would both order the same takeaway that night and have a little over the phone date, just to celebrate this big milestone.

On the morning Harry was set to depart for Italy, the anticipation of his journey hung in the air. Dressed for travel, he stood before you with a small suitcase by the door.

Shoes on, cap snug, and sunglasses concealing his eyes, he exuded a mix of excitement and reluctance. Despite the January chill in London, the promise of Italy's warmth upon landing prompted him to prepare for a contrasting climate.

Your eyes held a silent plea as you stood before him, sorrow evident in your gaze.

"I wish I didn't have t’go," Harry admitted, his voice tinged with regret.

You nodded, understanding the weight of the situation, your silence echoing the unspoken emotions in the room.

Milo, your ten-month-old Rottweiler puppy, sensed the sombre atmosphere, wagging his tail as if trying to infuse joy into the moment.

Unable to contain your emotions, you wrapped your arms around Harry in a tight hug.

"I'll miss you so much," you whispered, your voice betraying the ache within. Harry's embrace tightened, and he placed a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"I'll miss y’more, m’love," he murmured, the sincerity in his words resonating with the depth of his emotions.

Crouching down to pet Milo, Harry spoke to the pup with a soft smile, "Take care of mummy for me, little buddy."

Milo responded with excited barks, seemingly understanding the impending absence.

Standing up, Harry looked into your eyes, his own reflecting a mixture of love and longing.

Your gaze locked with his, finding solace in the promise of a future reunion.

"We'll have the most amazing belated birthday celebration," you said, trying to inject positivity into the moment.

Harry smiled, his eyes reflecting gratitude.

"I can't wait f’that. Until then, stay strong f’me," he said, pressing a lingering kiss to your lips.

As the door closed behind him, the echo of his departure resonated through the silent space. Left with the imprint of his touch, the memory of his presence, and the anticipation of his return, you and Milo faced a home that suddenly felt emptier without him.

"I'll make sure t’send y’pictures from Italy," Harry called out from the hallway.

"And don't forget to spoil Milo a bit extra for me!" he added with a playful grin, the reassurance in his voice providing a small comfort amid the impending distance.

The day of his actual birthday, you woke up at seven am, which meant it was eight am for Harry.

It was a nice early face time call, in which you had called someone from the town near your shared beach house and got them to deliver flowers so they we’re scheduled to arrive whilst the two of you were calling, so you could see his face when he received them.

Little did he know, as the virtual celebration concluded, that you were already en route to Italy to surprise the love of your life.

His manager, Jeff, had orchestrated the clandestine journey, booking a flight that not only allowed your presence but accommodated Milo, your loyal puppy companion.

On the fairly empty flight, with just a few scattered passengers, you found solace in the quiet journey across the skies. Milo, nestled on the seat next to you, peacefully dozed off, completely unaware of the grand surprise awaiting his owner.

The hum of the plane engines provided a soothing backdrop as you envisioned the joy that would light up Harry's face when you appeared unexpectedly in celebration of his special day.

Upon landing in Italy, you and Milo were swiftly escorted off the plane by a discreet security team. The importance of maintaining the surprise for Harry became evident as the team efficiently navigated through the airport. The mission was clear: to whisk you away from the public eye, avoiding any chance of word spreading that Harry's wife had arrived.

Passing through passport control with just a carry-on bag in tow, the security team ensured a seamless transition. The anticipation heightened as you and Milo moved through the airport, surrounded by the subtle hum of secrecy. Every step taken was a careful manoeuvre to preserve the surprise and shield the unfolding celebration from prying eyes.

Exiting the airport, you were guided to a waiting jeep. The security team orchestrated a smooth transition, knowing that time was of the essence.

Jeff:

H just left for a meeting, so you’ve got at least an hour to get everything ready !!

As the jeep sped toward the villa, Jeff's text notification illuminated your phone screen. His message revealed that Harry was currently engrossed in a meeting, providing a valuable window of time to set up a birthday surprise.

The prospect of transforming the house into a beautiful haven of celebration filled you with excitement. Knowing you had at least an hour before Harry's return heightened the anticipation, and thoughts of his surprised expression fueled your determination.

The journey continued through the picturesque landscapes of Italy, the half-hour drive feeling like both an eternity and a heartbeat away from reuniting with Harry. Milo, sensing the energy, shifted restlessly in anticipation, adding an extra layer of warmth to the already charged atmosphere within the jeep.

The realization that the culmination of meticulous planning was drawing near only fueled your eagerness.

The mere thought of seeing Harry after two days of separation fueled your determination to make this surprise an unforgettable celebration of love and connection. The countdown to the reunion had begun.

"Here we are," the driver announced as the jeep came to a stop in front of the villa. You thanked him and handed over a ten-euro tip, expressing gratitude for the swift and discreet journey.

Grabbing Milo's leash and your bag, you stepped out into the Italian air, the scent of anticipation mingling with the promise of celebration.

As you approached the door, the distinct aroma of Harry's aftershave enveloped you, confirming his recent presence. A pair of his white vans neatly placed by the entrance hinted at the intimate details of his daily routine.

With a smile, you inserted the key into the lock, unlocking the door to a space filled with the essence of the man you dearly missed.

"Milo, we're home," you murmured to your furry companion, who eagerly bounded into the living room.

The atmosphere inside resonated with familiarity, and Milo, seemingly aware of the joyous occasion, leaped onto the sofa, his tail wagging in sync with the pulsating excitement in the air.

Upon stepping into the villa, you wasted no time. The suitcase that accompanied you served as a treasure trove of celebratory delights. With swift precision, you unzipped it, revealing an inflatable 3 and 0, along with vibrant banners that spelled out "Happy Birthday."

The living room became a canvas for your creativity, and the decorations unfolded in a dance of colors and joy.

Inflating the giant numbers, you strategically placed them to catch Harry's eye the moment he entered. The banners crisscrossed the room, creating a vibrant tapestry of celebration. The atmosphere transformed with each decoration, turning the space into a haven of love and festivity.

The decorating didn’t take long, maybe around half an hour, so that left you waiting, and each minute felt like hell.

You so badly just wanted him in your arms.

Seated in the midst of the festive setup, you pulled out your phone, eager to share the news of your safe arrival with your family. Fingers danced across the screen as you texted messages of reassurance and excitement, capturing the essence of this special moment.

The living room, now a symphony of color and joy, served as the backdrop to your messages, each tap echoing the anticipation of the grand birthday surprise awaiting Harry.

As you sat in the living room, engrossed in your phone, the jingling of keys outside signaled Harry's arrival. Swiftly, you rose from your seat, Milo by your side, his tail wagging in silent excitement.

Attempting to be as quiet as possible, you made your way to the entry hall, your heart pounding with anticipation. The festive atmosphere of the decorated living room served as a backdrop to the impending surprise.

Harry entered, shutting the door behind him with a sense of routine. His tote bag dropped to the floor, and in his initial distraction, he failed to notice the pair of women's shoes by the entrance.

His gaze scanned the surroundings briefly before turning away, only to snap back with wide eyes when he caught sight of you standing there.

His mouth parted in shock, a mixture of disbelief and joy washing over his face.

Time seemed to stand still for a moment as Harry processed the unexpected presence before him. The shock gave way to a radiant smile, his eyes lighting up with genuine happiness. Milo's tail wagged furiously, mirroring the palpable joy in the room.

Harry's initial shock dissolved into pure joy as he stared at you standing in the entry hall. Without a moment's hesitation, he rushed over, gathering you into a tight embrace. The warmth of his arms enveloped you, an unspoken reassurance of the love that bridged the distance between you two. Your eyes welled up with tears, mirroring the emotion evident in his gaze.

"Happy birthday," you whispered, the words carrying the weight of your love and the joy of this surprise.

As Harry lifted his head, his lips sought yours in a cascade of affectionate kisses. Each press was a testament to the depth of the connection shared, a celebration of love that transcended the days of separation.

The room, filled with decorations and the silent witness of Milo, became a sanctuary for this spontaneous reunion.

In the midst of the kisses, Harry's laughter bubbled up, the sheer delight of the unexpected surprise washing over him.

"M’can't believe you're here," he admitted, his eyes sparkling with gratitude. Milo, sensing the joy, wagged his tail energetically, completing the tableau of love and celebration.

“I couldn't not see you on your birthday," you admitted with a warm smile, still wrapped in Harry's embrace.

"Milo missed his daddy so much that we had to come and surprise you." You winked playfully, a cheeky smile tugging at your lips. "And, well, maybe I missed you a bit too."

Harry's eyes lit up with a mixture of surprise and delight.

"Y’really came all the way here just for me?" he asked, his voice filled with gratitude. Milo, sensing the joy in the room, barked in agreement, tail wagging enthusiastically.

Cupping his face in your hands, you responded, "Absolutely. Birthdays are meant to be celebrated with the ones you love, and we couldn't let a few miles keep us apart, now could we?"

“But I’ve got meetings the entire day,”he pouted, head getting thrown back slightly. “But I wanna spend the entire day with you.”

You played with the peach fuzz at the back of his neck. “Well it’s a good job I’ve cleared your schedule then, huh?”

“Wait,”he snapped his head over to yours from where he was staring lovingly at Milo. “So I’ve got the whole day with you?”

“We’ve got the whole day together, baby.” You confirmed, watching as his dimples appeared on his face.

In need of a refreshment, you and Harry migrated to the kitchen. As he poured himself an ice-cold glass of water, you settled at the kitchen island, nibbling on a cracker slathered with butter.

Looking at Harry, you asked, "Any cravings for today?"

He grinned and replied, "Actually, I've been craving a nice stroll around the town with Milo. Maybe we can stop for some ice cream and, perhaps, a cheeky bottle of rouge."

Harry's eyes sparkled with the prospect of a leisurely day. He reached for your hand, fingers intertwining, and continued, "What do you think, love?"

You offered a small smile, well aware that your current circumstances limited certain indulgences. "Sounds lovely," you responded, playing with the cross necklace around his neck. "I'm up for a walk and some ice cream.”

The wine….not so much.

/ /

As the day wore on, bathed in the warm glow of the Italian sun, you changed into a pair of comfortable denim shorts and one of Harry's shirts, embracing the casual charm of the town. The borrowed shirt hung loosely on your frame, carrying the familiar scent that provided a comforting connection to Harry.

Together, hand in hand, you and Harry strolled along the old streets, a timeless backdrop for the unfolding birthday celebration.

Milo, ever the enthusiastic companion, trotted alongside, his leash held firmly in Harry's hand. The cobbled streets echoed with the gentle sounds of your footsteps, creating a serene melody as you explored the charming corners of the town.

The quaint architecture and rustic charm of the surroundings added a picturesque touch to the shared moments of the day.

The narrow alleyways led you to hidden gems and inviting cafés, where the scent of freshly brewed coffee and sweet treats filled the air.

Each step carried with it the promise of discovery and the joy of simply being together. The sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a warm hue over the town, and the leisurely pace of the day allowed you to savor the simple pleasures of the moment.

As you continued your leisurely walk through the charming streets of Italy, Milo suddenly stopped in his tracks, his nose diligently sniffing around the ground. With an amused grin, you watched as he searched for just the right spot to do his business.

After a moment of consideration, Milo found the perfect place, and you turned to Harry with a playful expression.

"Happy birthday to you," you teased, handing Harry the poo bag with a grin. He laughed and fake gagged, taking the bag with a theatrical expression of horror.

Milo, seemingly oblivious to the lighthearted banter, continued with his canine duties, contributing his unique birthday gift to the day's events.

Continuing your walk through the enchanting town, you and Harry engaged in easy conversation, the cadence of laughter punctuating the air. The narrow streets echoed with the shared joy of the day, every step deepening the connection between you two. Silly anecdotes and playful banter flowed freely, turning the casual stroll into a delightful journey of shared moments.

As you meandered through the old streets, each corner unveiled new surprises, and every twist and turn became an opportunity for discovery. The simple act of being together, immersed in the charm of the surroundings, fueled the laughter and strengthened the bond between you and Harry.

As you continued your stroll through the charming town, the sight of a small bistro with a quaint outdoor seating area caught Harry's eye.

"How about we grab a bite there? it looks like a nice spot," he suggested, nodding toward the bistro. You agreed with a smile, appreciating the thought of a cozy meal in such a picturesque setting.

Heading towards the entrance, you were met by a friendly waiter.

"How can I help you?" he inquired. Harry responded,

"Just a table outside, please." The waiter, with a welcoming smile, gestured for you to follow, leading you to a charming table nestled in the outdoor seating area. The sun cast a warm glow, creating an inviting ambiance for a leisurely meal.

Seated at the quaint table, Milo by your side, the waiter handed you the menus. "Browse through these, a waiter will be over shortly, and let me know if there's anything else you need," he offered before leaving you to peruse the options. The aroma of delectable dishes wafted through the air, enhancing the anticipation of a delightful meal in the heart of the town.

Harry, glancing at the menu, looked up at you with a playful grin.

"What are you in the mood for, m’love?" he asked.

You.

Wait what?

As you and Harry enjoyed the cozy atmosphere of the bistro, another waiter, a friendly woman with a welcoming smile, approached your table.

"Good evening! Do you know what you'd like to order?" she inquired, pen poised above her notepad.

Harry, ever decisive, was the first to respond.

"I'll have a glass of y’house red wine, please," he said, glancing at the wine list.

Turning to you, the waiter asked, "And for you, ma'am?"

You flashed a smile and softly shook your head.

"I'll just go for a fresh lemonade, please." Attempting to steer away any suspicion, you added, "Feeling like something light today."

Harry, catching the cue, chimed in, "Just a light and easygoing evening, you know?"

He winked at you, his eyes filled with playful complicity.

The waiter jotted down your drink orders and nodded. "Certainly, a glass of red wine and a fresh lemonade. Now, what can I get for your main courses?"

You perused the menu, deciding on a chicken salad, and Harry opted for the salmon antipasto. You exchanged glances, sharing a silent agreement on the choices. As the waiter collected your menu choices, she remarked,

"Excellent choices! Your orders will be out shortly. Enjoy your evening!"

With the waiter's departure, Harry leaned in with a teasing grin.

"A fresh lemonade, m’love? Feeling like a saint today, are we?" he quipped, his playful banter laced with affection.

You chuckled, playing along. "Well, saints need a refreshing drink too, don't they? Besides, I'm saving room for that delicious chicken salad."

Harry laughed, raising an eyebrow in mock suspicion. "Alright, alright, I won't question y’saintly decisions. S’just enjoy this lovely evening and the meal to come."

The waiter returned with your drinks about five minutes later, placing a glass of red wine in front of Harry and a refreshing lemonade for you. As she walked away, leaving you two to enjoy your beverages, you lifted your glass and initiated a spontaneous toast.

"Cheers to your birthday, my love," you exclaimed, your eyes sparkling with affection. "I just wanted to take a moment to say how much I love you. I can't wait to spend eternity together, celebrating moments like these."

Harry's gaze softened, and he blinked his glass against yours.

"To eternity and beyond," he replied, his voice filled with warmth. "M’the luckiest person to have you by m’side. Here's to many more birthdays and unforgettable moments together."

The bistro's ambiance embraced the intimate exchange, and you continued to express your love and appreciation for Harry.

"You make every day special, but today, on your birthday, I want it to be extra magical for you," you confessed, your sincerity echoing in the quiet moments between sips of the refreshing lemonade.

Harry's smile widened, and he reached across the table to gently squeeze your hand. "Having y’here is the best gift I could ever ask for. Every moment with you is magical, and m’grateful for it all."

/ /

As the early evening settled around the villa, you found yourselves back in the comforting haven of your shared space. In the bathroom, bathed in a soft glow, you stood before the mirror, carefully removing mascara and eyeliner.

The simple act of cleansing away the day's makeup was a routine that marked the transition from daytime adventures to the quiet moments of the evening.

Meanwhile, in the bedroom, Harry lay on the bed, Milo nestled at his feet. He absentmindedly scratched at the short growth of hair on his head, a subtle reminder of a recent decision to shave it off.

The room radiated with a sense of tranquility as you each indulged in the rituals that marked the end of the day.

Wearing one of Harry's shirts that enveloped you in the familiar scent of him, you busied yourself in the bathroom, preparing a late evening birthday surprise.

The soft rustling sounds of your movements echoed against the backdrop of Harry's contemplative scratching, creating a harmony of shared space and intimate connection.

With a soft smile gracing your lips, you glanced at yourself in the bathroom mirror before deciding it was time to return to the bedroom.

Your hands were discreetly behind your back, holding a late evening birthday surprise for Harry. As you stepped into the bedroom, Harry, already seated on the bed, noticed your presence and sat up, beckoning you with open arms.

"I want a cuddle," he declared, his eyes twinkling with a playful warmth. Unable to resist his endearing request, you let out a soft giggle at his baby-like antics.

Playfully, you approached the bed as he beckoned you forward.

Crawling onto the bed next to him, you let yourself be enveloped in his arms. You laid your head on his chest, the rhythmic beat of his heart echoing comfort and love.

The anticipation of the surprise gift still hidden behind your back added an extra layer of excitement to the intimate moment.

"I missed you," Harry murmured, his voice a gentle caress. You pressed a kiss over his heart, savoring the warmth of the connection. His arms tightened around you, embracing the familiar comfort of being close.

Taking a deep breath, you looked at Harry with a warm smile, saying, "I've got one last present for you. Close your eyes."

Harry hesitated for a moment, a playful smirk tugging at his lips, before obediently shutting his eyes. With gentle steps, you moved towards him, the late evening's golden glow casting a soft ambiance around you.

In your hands, you held a delicate gift, and with a mix of hesitation and tenderness, you softly placed it in Harry's hands.

"Okay, open your eyes," you instructed, your heart fluttering with a secret that had the power to change your lives forever.

Harry blinked his eyes open, and as he glanced down at his hands, a flicker of confusion passed over his face. Then, his gaze landed on the small object nestled in his palms.

It took a moment for the realisation to sink in, and when he saw what it was, his eyes widened, and he gasped.

"What... is this?" Harry stammered, his voice shaky with emotion.

His trembling fingers picked up the small pregnancy test.

The room fell silent as the weight of the revelation settled in. Harry's eyes locked onto the test, and tears immediately welled up.

"S’this for real?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "This isn't some sick joke, right?"

You shook your head, a mixture of joy and vulnerability in your gaze. Leaning forward, you pressed your forehead against his, tears streaming down both your cheeks.

"It's true, H. I'm eleven weeks pregnant," you whispered, the magnitude of the moment engulfing you both in a wave of overwhelming emotions.

Harry's breath caught, and he pulled back slightly to look into your eyes.

"I... we're going to be parents?" he uttered, a mix of disbelief and elation in his voice.

A tender smile graced your lips, and you nodded. "Yes, Harry. We're going to be parents."

Tears rolled down his cheeks as he pulled you into a tight embrace.

"I can't believe it. M’going to be a dad," he mumbled against your hair, his voice filled with a joy that echoed through the room.

Overwhelmed with emotion, Harry leaned forward, his hand gently pressing against your stomach as if trying to connect with the new life growing within.

The tender touch conveyed a depth of love that words could only strive to express. His lips found yours in a sweet, lingering kiss, and as he pulled back, he whispered, "I love you, I love you, I love you."

“This is the best birthday ever,”he spoke, chocking out a soft sob. “Thank you m’love, thank you, thank you for making us parents.”

You softly placed your hands on his cheeks to get him to look at you, and when his green eyes met yours, you smiled at him tenderly.

“Happy 30th Birthday, Baby.”