#and like. yeah it has lately started meaning 'this is a dark fic' and thats fine. but its not EXCLUSIVELY that

[bananonbinary]

just saw someone complaining about people "watering down" Dead Dove when it should only refer to REALLY dark fic.

no one is watering it down dumbass you just dont understand what the tag means. it isn't "here is something disgusting and awful, like a dead dove would be," it's a reference to that one gifset from arrested development where the guy opens a bag labelled "dead dove, do not eat" and says "i dont know what i expected."

it doesnt really mean anything in and of itself, it just means "look if you open this fic that is clearly labelled and act shocked idk what to tell you." ime its mostly used to reinforce that a certain tag isn't just for a small reference but a major part of the fic, and if you dont like that, maybe you should go elsewhere.

i dont really care if you use it as shorthand for darkfic, there's enough overlap that i dont think it causes any problems, but i DO have an issue when you start complaining about how the ORIGINAL MEANING is wrong.

[littlefroginthegarden]

Sold to Heartsteel 1/24

its a liiiittle bit late but whatever... im trying to write an advents calendar fic, theres some buffer but ill write during the month so im also open to input if you have any good ideas :)

hope you enjoy!

Tags: semi-ironic adaptation of 'sold to one direction' trope so yeah theres obv selling involved, angst, fluff, friendship, romance, maybe smut, mlm, transmasc character, some transphobia but mostly just parents being shit but nothing explicit or slurs or stuff, yeah i think thats about it, ill update this if anything changes xoxo

Part 1

Hi, my name is Hwei and I’m a misunderstood artist. Well, that’s not exactly true. My Parents hate my art and they think it’s just a waste of time. But under the name DemonBrush I’m known all around the world, my art account just recently hit two million followers. Which didn’t help me at all in my real life. I’ve been 18 now for a few months but my parents still act like I’m 16. I haven’t finished school yet and I can’t move out because my anxiety has made working impossible so far. My parents don’t allow me to get therapy or meds and I’m on their insurance so there’s nothing I can do. I sigh and try to think about something else but looking out my small window into the dark December morning isn’t helping. I go and pull the curtains, turn on my fairy lights and sit at my small desk that is crammed between the bed and the heavy wooden dresser. 

My reflection stares at me in the mirror, dark shadows under my amethyst eyes, a sign that I slept terribly, once again. The nightmares wouldn’t leave me alone. I sigh and start doing my makeup, nothing bright, just some smudged dark eyeshadow and black eyeliner on my waterline. My mom was probably gonna complain again but I don’t care. Last week she told me “People might think you’re gay!” Yeah, sure mom. I mean, why do you think I have all these Heartsteel posters hanging in my room? Because I love their one song so much? But when she says "gay" she means "lesbian". She would have an aneurysm if I tried to explain to her that I’m trans. And then she would probably throw me out. As if she could read my thoughts, I hear her shouting from downstairs “Come down immediately, Hwa! I can hear that you’re up.”

Ugh.

I throw on a black oversized hoodie that matches my skinny jeans (also black) and put my dark juniper green hair in a messy bun before I run downstairs as quick as I can. Better not make mom wait, she’s awful enough as is.

When I enter the kitchen, I almost bump into a large man in a suit that is standing next to my mom.

“Oh fuck, sorry!” I quickly say, getting a death stare from my mom but for once she doesn’t even berate me for swearing. She just looks between me and this dude, who was wearing dark sunglasses (in December!) for some fucking reason.

“Who is this?” I ask after a few moments of awkward silence.

“My name is Mr. Mundo, nice to meet you, Hwa.” His voice fits his impressive stature perfectly.

My mother steps forward and puts her hand on my shoulder, looking at me more seriously than I have ever seen her. “You know that we haven’t had the easiest time since dad lost his job. And since you refuse to work and pay your share, we had no other choice.”

“What do you mean? What choice?” I ask, slowly starting to panic.

“You’ll go with Mr. Mundo, he has a job for you where you’ll work for six months. You’ll get a room and food and the money goes to pay back all the debt you owe us.”

“Debt? What do I owe you?”

“Darling, you've been living and eating here for free for 18 years!”

“This is insane!” I yell at her. “You’re selling me? You are a monster!”

“Selling? It’s just temporary honey, and it’s a decent job, don’t make it sound worse than it is!”

“You can’t do that, I’m an adult, you can’t force me!” At this point I’m full on panicking. This can’t be happening, it should just be another nightmare. But I know it’s real. My nightmares are way different.

“You are right and nobody is forcing you. But think about this, it would give you the perfect opportunity to get some good job experiences while at the same time helping out your family! Also –” she adds “if you don’t take this offer then you’ll have to pack your bags, we can’t pay for you any longer.”

“If you stayed off the booze you could.” I press through my teeth, anger winning over panic.

She just ignores it and tells me “Please Honey, think about it. If you go with Mr. Mundo at least you’ll have a roof and food. We just want what’s best for you! You’ll thank us in a few years, mark my words.” With this she turns around and leaves me alone in the kitchen with this absolute hunk of a man.

“Go pack your stuff, we leave in an hour.” He hands me a big suitcase before sinking down onto the washed-out red leather couch in the living room, turning the TV on, unfazed by all of this as if it was his daily job. Which it probably was.

Still in shock, I go back to my room and just stare at the mirror for a solid minute. I still haven’t processed what just happened but I start throwing my most important stuff into the suitcase. I have a lot of clothes but most of them are from my parents and I hate wearing them. So it’s not too difficult to fit all my favorite pieces into the suitcase, some skinny jeans, flowy tops and hoodies and of course accessories, I can’t leave my choker collection here. Then I go to my bed and from under the mattress I pull my binder. I put it under all the other things so it won’t be visible if my mom checks my suitcase. She would freak out. I gather the rest of the stuff, making sure I have my laptop, makeup and favorite books, and check the time. I still have 15 minutes left but at this point, the quicker I’m gone the better. I grab the heavy suitcase and try to carry it down the stairs. Two steps in I nearly slip and the suitcase crashes onto the step with a loud Thud. Before I’m even up I can hear heavy steps on the stairs.

Mr. Mundo grabs the suitcase without saying a word and carries it down. I awkwardly follow him, hoping my mom is distracted and hasn’t noticed the commotion. For once I seem to be lucky, she’s nowhere to be seen. At the door, Mr. Mundo turns around and asks me “Are you sure that you have everything? You won’t be able to come back here anytime soon.”

“Yeah I’m not planning on doing that anyways. Can we go?” I ask impatiently.

He doesn’t answer and just opens the door and walks down the driveway towards the black car with darkened windows that is waiting at the end of it. He puts my suitcase in the back of it with ease and opens the door in the back, gesturing for me to get in. I hesitate for a second, but when I can hear the front door of the house open again, I quickly get in before I can hear whatever my mother wants to tell me. He slams the door behind me and gets into the driver’s seat, which I can’t even see from back here because there’s a divider between the front and the back of the car. Like in a limousine. Or a cop car. It feels more like the latter, like I’m a prisoner.

The car rumbles to life and even though the windows are heavily tinted, I can see the shadows of trees racing past us. Where are we going?

[h0tchner]

Any Age, Any Day, Anywhere (Part 1) - aaron hotchner x fem!reader

pairing: aaron hotchner x fem!reader

summary: WRITTEN FOR AN ANON REQUEST: "ok hi so u already wrote a jealous reader and was wondering whats your take on jealous hotch? i mostly see him in fics as possessive and yeah being the leader type i would think he could also be possessive but i also think that he would just be sad like ya know he doubts himself as we saw in some episodes and i think he would need assurance and a lot of convincing that u only love him but if you’ve given that to him then thats the time he would be possessive and god i would love to imagine a possessive and feral aaron hotchner"

word count: 3.5k

includes: kissing, so much freaking adorable fluff, talk of body insecurities, insecure!hotch, protective!hotch, wifey reader, super brief mentions of pregnancy, alcohol, confrontation with a drunk asshole (derek & hotch are all over it tho dw), party at papa rossi's!, smut to come in next chapter...

rating: 18+ (technically there is no smut in this part, but there are adult themes such as drinking, kissing, etc.).

a/n: HELLO BESTIES! This is part one of a two-part fic! The next part will be pure filth, so keep your eyes peeled for some feral hotch content... ALSO! PLS (!!!!!!!!!!!) interact if you liked this, rb, comment, like and/or send me a request if you have ideas for future fics! i love y’all! - rivka💞

“Aaron! Can you come here for a sec?” you call out to your husband from the bathroom, muttering curses under your breath as you try (and fail) for the third time to zip up the back of your black cocktail dress.

“Sure, I just need a minute,” he replies from the bedroom closet, securing the last opalescent button on the arm of his white dress shirt. He looks at himself in the closet mirror, zeroing in at the bags under his eyes and the sprinkling of grey in his stubble. He looks… tired. Tired and old. And he hates it.

Even though Aaron is only in his late-40s, he has lived lifetimes; years of working as Unit Chief of the BAU will do that to a man. Every horror he’s seen and every person he’s lost has weighed on his body and mind. In the past few months, amidst work changes and a new baby, he’s been exhausted and in fear that he’s letting himself go. Of course, being the stoic man that he is, he’s done his absolute best to hide these feelings from you. Tonight, however, he doesn’t know if he can. It’ll be your first night out together as a couple since welcoming baby girl Hotchner to the family four months ago. With no pressing family or work distractions, he just knows that you’ll be able to sense his apprehensions. It’s only a matter of when.

Taking in a breath, he turns a little to the side, frowning at his profile. Aaron winces a little at his “dad bod,” but quickly recovers from the discomfort, milliseconds after it flashes across his face.

“Aaron Hotchner get your handsome butt in here and help me zip my dress! We’re gonna be late,” you exclaim, trying one last time to reach the zipper before giving up and crossing your arms in defeat. You lean back lightly against the countertop facing the door, letting the fabric slip off your shoulders, and wait for your husband to rescue you from the hell that is this dress.

At the sound of your voice, Aaron snaps out of his trance. He shakes his head lightly, as if to physically erase the intrusive thoughts, and clears his throat. Grabbing his suit jacket off the hanger, he flicks off the closet light and closes the door behind him.

Languidly, he meanders from the closet toward the bathroom. He drags his feet a little longer than he normally would, still feeling off and a little bit shy about his appearance.

“Aaron,” you sing, “I’m waiting for –,” your jaw drops mid-sentence when Aaron appears in the doorway.

“Oh fuck,” you breathe out before you can stop yourself, eyes widening at the sight of the gorgeous man in front of you.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, crossing over to you, searching your face for any ounce of reprieve.

“Nothing, nothing’s wrong,” you’re quick to reply, standing from your leaning position to meet him, holding out your hands.

He takes them in his own, cocking his head slightly, his soft hazel eyes boring into yours.

You shift forward, moving up on your toes to peck his soft pink lips.

He sighs into the kiss, feeling the warmth of your lips against his own. It feels so good that it almost makes him forget about how he is feeling… almost. But the dark thoughts come back, and he pulls away from you a bit, reluctantly.

Aaron clears his throat.

“You called me?” He questions, but it sounds more like a fact.

“Yeah,” you give his hands a squeeze. “I needed you to zip up my dress, but now,” you lean in again, “I kinda want you to rip it off me.” You offer him a sultry smirk, moving your hands up to rest on his broad chest. He moves his hands to settle on your hips.

You lick your lips and let your eyes rake over his body, taking in every ounce of his sexy frame. The way his crisp, white dress shirt hugs his solid body makes you go weak in the knees. His strong, toned legs in those black dress pants? Yes please. His soft black hair and salt and pepper stubble on his face are practically begging to be touched. He looks good. Damn good.

“You look…” you pause, tapping a finger lightly against his pectoral, searching for the right word, “…delicious.”

Aaron blushes lightly at your ogling, offering you a sad smile as he squeezes his eyes shut out of embarrassment.

You sense the falter in his demeanor, knowing that there’s something else nagging at him far beyond his usual flustering when you vocalize your attraction to him.

“Honey,” you implore, looping your hands around his neck to bring his forehead down to touch yours. “What’s going on in that big, beautiful brain of yours?”

“It’s nothing,” he mutters, swallowing, rubbing soft circles into your sides.

“It’s something,” you counter, carding a hand through his hair at the nape of his neck. You scratch lightly at his scalp, waiting for him to speak. You’ve learned that the best thing to do when Aaron gets in a mood is to give him some time to gather his thoughts. Keeping him close, physically, is a way to show him some comfort without pressuring him to speak. It encourages him, without words, that your arms are a safe place.

“I don’t…” he starts, and then stops himself. His dark eyebrows furrow and his mouth presses into a thin line.

“Mhm?” you question, fingers still tangled in his thick, black locks.

He pulls his forehead away from yours and locks eyes with you. You let your hands be still now, a silent gesture to show him that you’re listening.

He takes in a breath.

“I don’t look the way I used to,” he says quietly, shifting his eyes away from yours.

“What do you mean,” you urge him to continue.

“I mean, I don’t look like I did five years ago. Two years ago. Four months ago. I mean, I was practically a different man when we first met. I was younger, fitter…” he trails off, visibly upset.

“Yes, Aaron, you were,” you agree, keeping your tone temperate.

His eyes snap to yours, confused. It’s clear that was not what he was expecting you to say.

“You were a different man,” you continue gently, resuming your pacifying touch in his hair, “and I was a different woman.”

Aaron lets out a huff.

“Do you love me any less now than you did five years ago?” You ask him.

“Of course not,” he’s quick to answer.

“Why is that?” You prod.

“You’re gorgeous, inside and out. You’re funny, smart, loving…” he begins, but you interrupt him before he can go on.

“And,” you butt in, “if I were to go completely grey, gain thirty pounds, and only wear a potato sack to work every day would you love me any less?”

Aaron huffs again, but this time he’s fighting a smile. He’s starting to catch on. You watch as a spark of levity returns to his eyes. He holds you a little tighter.

“No. There’s nothing you could do or say to make me love you any less,” he grumbles in annoyance, but his upturned lip and matching eyebrow tell a different story.

“Ditto, baby,” you smile up at him. “I love you at any age, any day, anywhere, and there is nothing in the world that can make me change my mind.”

He dips down then, capturing you in a kiss, grinning against your lips.

You giggle as Aaron works his way down your jawline and neck, gasping as he kisses the soft skin at the junction of your neck and shoulder, thick fingers gripping the sides of your hips. He moves his lips back up to your earlobe, nipping at it lightly as you let out another soft gasp.

“You always know the right thing to say,” he whispers into your ear, pressing another kiss right underneath it.

“Aaron, I know I said I wanted you to take this dress off me,” you say breathlessly as Aaron nips at your shoulder again, “but Rossi will kill us if we don’t show up tonight. Plus, I really want the chance to show off my super sexy FBI husband. It’s been far too long.”

He lets out a low groan into your skin and gives your hips a squeeze, nuzzling his head into your neck.

“Yeah,” he mumbles, “you’re right.”

“Aren’t I always,” you snort, eliciting a chuckle from your husband as you turn around in his arms to let him zip you up.

He takes his time, letting his fingers brush lightly over your spine as he draws the zipper over your back. When he’s done and the clasp is latched, he kisses one shoulder lightly, and then the other.

“Thank you,” you whisper, leaning back against his warm body.

“No, honey,” he kisses the top of your head, “thank you.”

_____________________________________________________________

By the time you and Aaron arrive at Rossi’s mansion, the party is already in full swing. Judging by the number of cars in the makeshift parking lot on his spacious front lawn, there must be at least fifty, maybe even a hundred people here.

Despite the bustle of the evening, it doesn’t take long for you two to find Emily, Penelope, and Derek in the living room, drinks in hand, snacking on some very expensive looking food.

“Hey, look! It’s the Hotchners!” Emily cheers, teetering on the arm of the leather couch, wine glass in hand.

“Hello beautiful BAU power-couple!” Penelope chimes in from the seat next to her, cuddled up into Derek’s side.

You laugh and let go of Aaron’s hand, walking over to greet your friends.

“Hey hot stuff, look at you, look at you!” Derek chimes in, eyeing you up and down before standing to shake Aaron’s hand.

“Oh, please,” you roll your eyes at him as you give Emily a big hug.

“And you don’t look bad yourself, boss man!” Derek adds.

You shoot your husband an ‘I told you so’ look over your shoulder, before untangling your arms from Emily and giving Penelope an equally enthusiastic squeeze.

“It’s good to see you all,” Aaron smiles lightly, all dimples in the low light. He steps in to give Emily and Penelope soft hugs.

“Let’s go get you a drink,” Derek says to Aaron, clapping him on the back.

“White?” Aaron looks to you, even though he already knows the answer.

“Yes please,” you respond, “thank you.”

“Be back soon,” he smiles easily, kissing your cheek, making your heart ache.

Aaron and Derek turn and exit the room together.

Penelope drunkenly pats the seat next to her, and you plop down on the couch.

“We’ve missed you like this!” Emily exclaims, gesturing between the three of you and around the room. “I can’t believe we’ve had to wait nine whole months plusanother four just to have a drink with our best friend again.”

You laugh at her, tilting your head back lightly. “Well, you guys got a beautiful little niece out of it, doesn’t that make up for all the wild girl’s nights I missed?”

Emily sighs, dramatically, “I guess so,” she jests.

“Oh, for sure.” Penelope adds. “You look freaking gorgeous, by the way. I mean, I would have never guessed you were creating a tiny human in that body only a few months ago!”

You blush lightly at her words, “You flatter me far too much, Pen. I owe this,” you gesture down at your figure, “all to Spanx!”

“Amen!” Emily toasts. You raise an imaginary glass to theirs and pretend to clink, taking a swig of invisible liquid.

“Are J.J. and Will here?” You ask them after they’ve had a few more sips of their wine.

“Yeah, yeah,” Emily nods, “they’re around somewhere.”

You take a moment and look around the room, taking in all the sights and the sounds of the party. You see some faces you recognize from around the bureau, but others you don’t. Just as you’re about to turn back to your friends, someone catches your eye. One face stands out from the crowd: he’s a young, suave-looking man in a sharp navy suit. Sandy hair perfectly gelled, shiny brown loafers, and bright blue eyes looking right at you. In another life you would have been exhilarated by his attention, apparent charm, and good looks, but now? Now, you’re married to the love of your life with an amazing stepson and a wonderful baby girl. His wolfish gaze means absolutely nothing to you. You simply flash him a curt smile and turn back to Emily and Penelope without a second thought.

You and your friends resume your chatter, waiting for the men to return with more drinks... only they don’t. Perhaps its “new mother anxiety” talking, but the longer your husband is gone, the more you start to grow concerned. A few more minutes pass of antics, laughter, and catching up until the nagging voice in the back of your head turns into an all-out scream. All you know is that you’re suddenly feeling very overwhelmed need to be with Aaron. So, you announce to your friends that you’re going to hunt down Derek and your husband.

You stand from the couch and smooth out the skirt of your dress with the promise to be back in a few minutes.

You walk out of the living room and into the grand foyer, following the same route as Aaron had earlier. Your black kitten heels click on the marble flooring, the skirt of your dress swishing lightly as you walk with purpose towards the kitchen. You’re so concentrated on reaching your destination that you don’t realize the man who had been watching you in the living room was now hot at your heels, following you through the house. It’s only when a hand reaches out and jerks your arm backward that you stop, startled, just past the grand staircase, turning face to face with him.

“You’re not an easy woman to get alone,” he smirks, reeking of alcohol, still gripping your arm, tight. Up close he is decidedly not as handsome as the low light of the living room made him seem. In fact, he seems… creepy. Really, really, really, creepy.

“Can I help you?” You blink at him, pulling your arm out of his vice grip.

“You sure can, baby,” he steps closer to you, voice oozing with sleaze. You gag at the liquor on his breath.

Moving away, you scowl at him, crossing your arms across your chest.

“What’s say you and I head upstairs for a little while? I’m dying to get my hands on your body.” He jerks his head toward the staircase, reaching out to grab your arm again.

You’re fuming at this point, ready give him a piece of your mind when a stern voice beats you to it.

“Excuse me, what do you think you’re doing?” Aaron articulates, approaching you both with Derek not far behind.

You breathe a sigh of relief as your husband glares at the drunken man vengefully, coming to stand by your side. Aaron pulls you into him, roughly, hand tight around your waist. The anger radiating off your husband is equally terrifying and HOT.

“Take a walk, man,” Derek adds in, coming to stand next to the drunken asshole. The man looks from you, to Aaron, then over to Derek, and finally back at you.

“Whatever,” the man grumbles, putting his hands up, “she’s not worth it anyway. Not pretty enough for the hassle. I just thought she looked like an easy lay.”

“That’s enough,” Aaron snaps, seething. “Leave now, before I make you,” your husband growls. He angles his body forward so you’re slightly behind him. A shiver passes through you at his fierce protectiveness.

“Fine, I’m going to get another drink,” the man utters.

“No,” Aaron interjects, “the party. Leave the party or I’ll have you removed.”

“What’s your problem?” The creepy man retorts, this time, more confrontationally.

“My problem?” Aaron says, angrily. You feel his entire body tense at the accusation.

“Hotch,” Derek warns, “I’ll take care of it. You guys go enjoy yourselves. Forget about him.”

“Come on, Aaron,” you tug on his suit jacket lightly, eyes pleading… but Aaron doesn’t budge from his spot. He only holds you tighter as he continues to stare down the man as Derek ushers him away and towards the front door. He doesn’t falter until they are out of sight.

“Aaron?” You repeat.

He looks down at you, finally, blinking away the fury until all that’s left is an all-consuming love. He releases you from his protective hold, and you face him.

“I’m okay,” you assure him in earnest, letting out a shaky breath.

“Honey, I’m so sorry,” he breathes, bringing his hands up to cup your face.

“Aaron, it’s okay, really,” you bite your lip, shifting your eyes away from his.

“You’re so beautiful,” Aaron kisses your forehead, and then the top of your head. “So, so beautiful, and I’m so sorry.”

“Aaron, can we just go home?” You ask.

“Sure,” he kisses your head one last time before weaving his fingers between yours and guiding you gently toward the back exit.

_____________________________________________________________

The car ride home is quiet. The only sounds are the occasional click of the turn signal, and the hum of the wheels on the road. Aaron is still upset, and so are you, but you’re also… something else. Something you can’t quite put your finger on. You feel guilty for ruining the evening, guilty that you FEEL guilty for something you had no control over, hungry, tired, and… horny? Oh, and guilty for feeling horny.

It isn’t helping that one of Aaron’s hands is planted firmly on your thigh. He lifts it only to adjust the air conditioning or to scratch his nose, but otherwise it remains on you the whole way home. When he pulls into the driveway of your shared house, and shuts the car off, he still doesn’t move it.

“Honey?” You turn your head to look at him. His eyes are closed. You take in the strong features of his profile, noting the prominence of his nose and the way his eyelashes rest on his high cheekbones.

“I almost punched him.” Aaron whispers, opening his eyes to look over at you sheepishly.

“You what,” you exhale, mouth slightly agape.

“That guy,” he continues, bringing his left hand up to pinch his nose. “I almost punched him for saying that about you.”

You snort, amused by his confession.

Your husband lets out a short laugh, squeezing your thigh as he does.

“I would’ve liked to see that.” You’re grinning now and so is he.

He flashes his eyes at you and laughs again, this time less anxiously. You join him, feeling the tension dissipate with every passing moment.

“My big, bad FBI man decking a barely-legal drunk dickhead for making a move on his wife? Where can I get my tickets?” You joke.

As you say the words “his wife,” Aaron’s breath hitches in his throat. His hand on your thigh presses down instinctively. Neither of his reactions go unnoticed.

You lay a hand over his where it rests on your leg.

“You know, Aaron,” you begin.

He looks over at you, jaw tight, but this time it isn’t from anger.

“This is the first time we’ve had the house all to ourselves in months,” you pull his hand off you and bring it up to your lips. You press a kiss to his palm, and then to his wrist.

“This… is true,” he breathes out, studying you, taking you in.

“So, I’m just wondering:” you grin, linking your fingers with his, “are you going to carry your wife into our house, Aaron? Or do I have to walk myself?”

[nejiraez]

one day, you all will know true peace when i stop making bakugou the default character to the maladaptive daydreamz i write. but until then...

get well soon! | bakugou katsuki

pairing: bakugou katsuki x reader // 2.9k words

genre: fluff — contains spoilers from mha chap 298; includes kissing, thats it!

summary: free bakugou until it’s backwards!!! but until then, he appreciates having your presence around as he takes the time to properly heal.

the way i haven’t written a full fic since oct </3... but i needed to post this b4 aquarius season ends tmrrw...

He’s never had to stay this long in a hospital before.

Sure, there were minor check-ins that he had to tend to at the clinics every so often from the injuries he’s received, but he never had to stay more than a few days at hand.

“Only a couple more days until you’re discharged…” 

The sound of your voice prompts Bakugou to shift his gaze away from the TV screen stationed at the corner of his hospital room to focus his sights on you. Deep shades of scarlet watch as your hands absent-mindedly pick at the white petals from the bouquet that his mother had gifted him. 

Carnations, a ‘get well soon’ present that would prompt him back to wellness. They were becoming quite the eyesore. The stems were beginning to droop and dull in colour with how poorly maintained they had been kept for the past week.

“That must be exciting for you, yeah?”

Bakugou shrugs, but he’s quick to regret his slight movement due to the small wince that follows shortly after. Despite being placed in the hospital for a little over a week now, a great mass of Bakugou’s body still aches. “It’s whatever,” he mutters, dismissing the subject matter altogether, “I’ll be back to doing the same crap over again anyway, so it’s nothing special.”

Closing your eyes, you sink yourself further down into your seat near his bedside and sigh. The windows a few steps away from Bakugou’s left allow for the sun’s late afternoon glow to beam into his room. You’ve sat here with him for the past two hours and a half from when you first came.

“You’re so pessimistic, you know that?” You announce, resting your arms against the bed’s side rails, which promote access to you, propping your cheek onto your hands with your face turned towards Bakugou. “Always thinking so negatively.”

Choosing not to respond to your comment, Bakugou soaks in the brief silence shared within the confines of his room.

For the past few days, other than his immediate family, who was relentless about visiting him as much as they could- save for the days where work would pull them away- your regular visits were something that became apart of Bakugou’s daily schedule. 

Wake up. Eat whatever shitty food the kitchen staff has to offer for the day. Wait through numerous check-ups and appointments, while the nurses examine the vital state of his internal organs. And then, he has a bit of free time to himself before either you or any visitor arrives at Hosu General hospital.

“I’m just telling it as it is.”

Bakugou would be lying if he said that he didn’t look forward to your visits.

Like Pavlov’s law, he’s grown conditioned upon awaiting your arrival every day, always finding himself sitting a bit straighter in his bed whenever 15:00 rolled around on the clock. 

Growing bored with not much to do, Bakugou allows his eyes to wander the room, skimming each object with little to no thought before his eyes would drop down on your form once again. With your eyes still closed, Bakugou takes this chance to absorb your presence before him fully. Watching the tiny twitches that would happen every now and then on your face out of curiosity.

The amount of fear and dread that washed over you the moment you caught news of how Bakugou jumped in front of his childhood friend, Midoriya, to spare his life, in turn, putting his own on the line had you aching to the bone. 

You were scared and couldn’t bring yourself to the thought that you would lose him, and there wasn’t much that you could do about it since you and a few others were far from where the main fight had gone down.

Regardless of whether Bakugou had a chance of waking up or not, you were still adamant about swinging by his hospital room as often as you could until the second day where he miraculously woke up. And caused an uproar as he did. He had to be restrained as he tried to check up on the others’ wellbeing as he did so.

To be placed inside of a room alone, with no one around to tell him what the fuck exactly went on, Bakugou was on edge. Hands down, that day would take the cake as being the most overwhelming experience he has had at his time here. Where were was Deku, for starters? And where did you disappear off to? 

He really didn’t deserve you.

Pulling himself out from his thoughts, Bakugou breaks the silence to pester you with something. “Pass me that, will you?” He asks, nodding his head over to the sole snack that sat on his bedside table. Something that one of the nurses left behind for him after his physical exam.

You blink, snapping yourself back to reality. You crane your next behind you, following his line of sight to the bright Tarami packaging. “Sure,” you grab and toss it for him to take.

Bakugou grunts out his gratitude. “Getting to eat normal food again will be the pinnacle of my life,” he states, rolling the Tarami around in his hands. “They feed us nothing but literal dog water and bland shit. “

“I’m sure the staff is trying their best. You aren’t the only mouth they feed in here after all,” you say, referencing the fact that your other peers, such as Todoroki and Midoriya to name a few, found themselves in the same situation as he did. 

“I fuckin’ guess,” he mutters in response, his focus shifted onto trying to rip open his snack but to no avail.

“Want me to - ”

“Don’t need it,” he says, cutting your sentence short. His bandaged thumbs are still fumbling to get a good grip on the plastic seal that stood in the way between him and his fruit cup. “This stupid gauze is just - ” The cup tumbles out from his hold and rolls out onto his lap. “Dammit!”

You smile at the display in front of you. Bakugou glaring at the container as if it had crossed him wrong was quite the sight to see. The fact that he has shown no signs of making another attempt at opening the seal gave you an indication that it was your turn to step in.

What a dork.

“Jesus, Katsuki,” you say, shaking your head at his stubborn nature. You take the fruit cup off his lap and, without issue tear the seal off before passing it back to him. He was too headstrong for his own good sometimes. “Nobody’s gonna bite you if you ask for help once in a while.”

Bakugou scoffs - losing steam now, he tips the rim of the cup against his lips, knocking back as many diced peaches he could fit inside of his mouth.

A mix of wonder and admiration suddenly crosses you as you study how quick he is to swallow down his food. Not even bothering to make use of the silver spoon left astray on the stand.

Bakugou silently chews. His cheeks have bulked up in size for the time being until all traces of food have been gone. Cute. “You’re so - ” You start but cut yourself short, wanting to enjoy the serene atmosphere rather than spurring him to the edge towards nagging at you.

You reach your hand out towards Bakugou, thumb grazing the corner of his mouth to clean the small mess he has made, to which he gently swats your hand away. His mannerisms were still the same as ever, never changing.

“I’m so what?” He asks, flicking his attention onto you as he watches the way your eyes linger on his face.

“You’re so amazing, was what I was going to say.” 

“Damn straight.”

You half-heartedly roll your eyes at his narcissistic response and reach for your phone, checking the time. “Wow, it’s now getting to 18:00?” You exclaim, swiftly entering the passcode to your iPhone and so that your fingers could scroll to the Tokyo Train Navigation app to check the times of when you should catch the next ride home.

Bakugou brows bump together in confusion at your surprise. “What about it? That means you’re ditching me already?” 

“Only for today though, the next train is coming in 30 minutes, and I gotta catch it before it gets dark out.”

As much as Bakugou isn’t a big fan of having your time spent together but abruptly short, he understands where you’re coming from, mentally putting himself in your shoes. 

At hours like these, when the begins to sun hide behind the city’s tall, towering buildings, it isn’t an ideal situation to have you walking out alone in the middle of dimly lit streets where villains may lurk at any corner. Especially after the shit show that went down this past week with the jailbreak.

He’d have no problem walking you home at times like this, but he can’t. Not when he’s on a “house arrest” list with the staff of the hospital.

“Fine,” he replies, dropping his head into his hands, which then finds purchase through his hair. Pissed with the cards he’s been dealt with. Feeling like he should clarify about your safety, Bakugou pipes up, “Make sure you ask the front desk to have one of their idiot guards walk you to the station. I hear that they do that.”

“Yeah, of course,” you say, collecting your belongings from the ground. “Not trying to be edited in with the clouds.” A remark that was supposed to prompt a lighthearted, humorous feel to the conversation, but Bakugou remains tight-lipped as ever. A fitting expression for your grouch of a boyfriend.

“I’m serious. Text me when you get home too.”

“And so am I! I love my life.”

And he loves you-- was something that Bakugou refrains himself from saying. It was something that he still had trouble saying verbally but had no difficulty expressing.

You walk towards the door, ready to bid your counterpart a farewell, but he beats you to the punch.

“The hell are you doing?” Bakugou’s voice halts you from making your grand exit.

He stares at you sharply from his bed. Glowering with jaw taut as he eyes your hand placed onto the sliding door. “Cut that shit out, come back.”

“For why?”

You hear Bakugou breathe out a hushed hiss, becoming peeved at how evasive you were when he knew for a fact that you were aware of what he wanted you to do for him. “Come and do the thing.”

At his sudden inquiry, you finally turn around to face him. “What thing?” You prod, wanting to hear him say what he wanted out loud. To be straightforward with you for once rather than dancing around the topic like he always does.

Sidestepping the multiple wires and the IV tube that he was hooked up to, at last, you close the distance between you both. Finding yourself back beside Bakugou’s bed, and now settle yourself down onto the small space that he has created for you on his mattress. 

You feel giddy. A hazy warmth exudes from your chest that spreads down to your toes as you watch the slow change of pigmentation in Bakugou’s face. Blotches of a soft, rosy pink littered his exposed neck, indicating the effect that had over him.

Caving in, Bakugou swallows down his pride and utters, “Kiss me…” His tone is wavering in the slightest.

There it was.

Propping your hand near Bakugou’s face to steady yourself, you nod. You’re gentle in the process as you move much closer to Bakugou, attentive as not to brush up against any of his wounds. “Okay,” you murmur. 

You think to yourself about how pretty looks from your point of view. Admiring how Bakugou's plush and soft skin was despite the light bruises and scratches he’s gained from the fight, he looked very well-maintained for a hospital patient.

The more time that you take, you become aware of the fact that Bakugou isn’t above taking a fistful of your shirt and tugging you down so that you could meet his lips. Hell, it wouldn’t surprise you if he were to do so right now.

But he doesn’t. 

Instead, he waits. Patiently, for you to make your move and just fucking kiss him already. Though there’s only so much he can take before he breaks.

Feeling the bed dip beside him, Bakugou could damn near feel his heart hammering against his chest. “Hurry up and get on with it will you,” he chides, his striking features already beginning to twist into an unreadable expression.

You laugh, unable to bite back your giggles as the male fixed you with his signature scowl. “Look at you, being a bully to the person you want a kiss from...” You say, leaning in close, now only hovering a few mere centimetres from his lips, both of you desperate for what would come next.

“You’re so mean, I swear.”

And that’s when you decide to close the distance, pressing your lips together.

It was quite sweet, literally, for his lips tasted of citrus.

Bakugou does a poor job at suppressing down his groan the moment your fingers wind themselves into his hair. The pads of your fingertips adoringly dance across his scalp.

The kiss starts off relatively chaste, both of you relishing in each other’s warmth as you pepper several small kisses against him—your stomach ties into knots as you experience how gentle he was being with you.

Despite the dull aching pains that Bakugou could still perceive whenever he made broad movements with his arm, his hand steadily finds its way to reach up towards your neck, pressing you further against him to deepen the kiss, swiping his tongue upon your lower lip. 

When your tongue comes into contact with his, it’s tentative and quick. And then it happens a few more times before fully feel comfortable enough to full-on kiss Bakugou.

Your thought process was growing muddled. Not a clear premise came to mind as his bandaged hand trails to the small of your back and back up again.

With every sound or hum of approval that you made way past your lips, it fed Bakugou’s desire to satisfy both you and his needs even. His thumb smooths over the curve of your jaw, easing your nerves each time you shyly pull away attributable to the great intimacy that swirled between you both.

He chases your lips, fervent on returning your energy that you were relaying to him, back tenfold. He loves you. So fucking much, and he only hopes that his appreciation and devotion may reach you.

You choke on a tiny gasp. “Katsuki - ” And that’s when he feels it, right in his chest. It’s as if he has been jump-started back to life, his heart quite literally skipping a beat at the sound of his name tumbling past your lips. It was adorable, and he wanted to hear you like that again. Say his name like that again, on loop without end.

Fuck.

With adrenaline coursing through your veins, your breathing was starting to grow laboured now, and you decide to break the kiss before things can escalate and before you miss your train.

Pulling away from Bakugou, the traces of confidence that you once had prior to the kiss have all but flung itself out the window, completely gone now. “I’ll, uhm -” You stammer over your words, brain trying to compose a proper sentence in spite of your current dazed state. “I’ll be back to see you again, with the others.”

With how flustered and scatterbrained you were acting, it stroked Bakugou’s ego beyond belief. A wicked smile threatens to split upon his face, but he bites it down along with his greed to ask for one more kiss before you go. “Tomorrow,” he affirms, flicking his eyes back towards the TV—an entirely new show publicized on its screen.

You hoist yourself up from the bed and stand to your feet, ignoring how your knees almost buckle. “Right,” you say. No fucking way were you this beat up over making out with your own boyfriend, for crying out loud- you thought as you wander towards the door, almost taking out one of the monitors in your trail. 

Sliding the door open you step out, but you poke your head back in, stalling a bit so that you could look at the blonde for the last time that day. “But until then, get well soon, okay?” 

Bakugou’s eyes stay glued to the screen, trying to distract himself from how damn sweaty his palms were, that or how he could feel the beat of his heart pick up in tempo. Its incessant pounding was all too much for him.

It’s so stupid how whipped he found himself to be nowadays. “I know,” he dismisses, a bit all too quickly. He wants your ass out before you have a chance to glance at the heart monitor he was wired up to.

Fortunately enough for him, you don’t. You wave and close the door behind you, your smile being the last thing he sees.

With the coast clear, Bakugou throws himself back onto his mountain of pillows. “Shit,” he curses, panting out a sigh of relief seconds after you were gone.

That was amazing, you were amazing, he thought, recounting the kiss. He swipes his palms against his sheets, being sure to get rid of any nitroglycerin that may linger to activate his quirk successfully.

Bakugou can’t stress how much he’s aching for nightfall to come, knowing that he would be one sleep from getting to see you again, and again, and again, until he would finally be let free.

But until then, as you had said, he had to heal.

And with the knowledge of you being around whenever he needed you the most, Bakugou was most definitely on the bright path to a speedy recovery.

[nasaty]

Forget me not

Aizawa-Sensei x Y/n-Sensei fic

TW: (eventually) violence, discussion of past death, just some bad feelings all around.

Part 9/??

——————

“She’s got a decently bad concussion. She should start feeling more normal soon but then the pain is going to hit her. I’m going to have recovery girl come in and help her a bit, but you still need to keep her awake for a while. She can sleep in small segments but don’t let her sleep for more than two hours at a time for the next twelve hours.” The doctor gave Shouta a sheet of paper with instructions and a prescription for pain killers. They discharged you after that.

Shouta had called Nemuri to have her come pick you both up and take you back to the dorms.

“Oh honey…you got fucked right up.” Nemuri said as she opened the back of her van.

You heard Shouta talk to Nemuri and explain the situation. He leaned down towards you.

“Is it okay if you stay with me tonight so I can keep an eye on you?” He asked

“…oh…we can have a sleepover.” You said, still a bit dazed.

“Hah…yes we can have a sleepover. Nemuri is going to take us back now.”

“Thank you, Nem.” You gazed at her, and she ruffled your hair softly. Aizawa lifted you up into the seat of her car and sat on the other side. You laid on his shoulder and he whispered to you sweetly, not that you could tell what he was saying.

You took a short nap on the way back to UA and when Nemuri parked you woke up, feeling a lot more clear but you had a splitting headache.

“Oh wow this sucks.” You stated. As you got out of the van, hand in Shoutas hand for support.

“Hah…yeah it does. Do you want to take some medicine to help?”

“Yes please”

Shouta mouthed a sincere ‘thank you’ at Nemuri and she mouthed, ‘you owe me’ back.

As he was unlocking the door to his room, Midoriya appeared in the hallway.

“Aizawa-sensei? Y/n-Sensei?”

“Go to sleep, problem child.” Spat Aizawa.

“Oh don’t be so mean to Midoriya.” You defended.

“What’s going on?” Midoriya rubbed his eyes.

“Y/n-Sensei has a concussion. We ran into a villain tonight.”

“Are you and Y/n-Sensei dating?!” You both forgot you were wearing dress clothes rather than your usual casual or hero costumes you wore to school.

Aizawa sighed, “Go to sleep, Midoriya.” He ordered and you giggled.

He let you into his room and lead you to the couch, made you some tea and gave you a couple pain pills.

“Thank you for taking care of me Shouta.”

“I didn’t do anything.” He said.

“Yes you did. You saved me and you took me to the hospital and you’re taking care of me.”

He hummed.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t have been more help.”

“You saved that boys life.” He stated.

“The student?”

“Yes. He was from Shiketsu. If you hadn’t been near him when that villain hit you both, that blow would’ve broke his neck.”

“Oh….”

“You’re not really confident in yourself as a hero are you.”

“Yeah….not really.”

“You should be. I mean you beat me sparring, it’s not like you can be that bad.” He smirked.

“Yeah but I can’t do anything when it counts. Just in practice.”

“Your intuition kept that kid alive. I wouldn’t say thats nothing.”

“I just happened to be there though, it’s not like I helped.” You looked Shouta in the eyes and saw tears welling up in his eyes. “Shouta??”

“I would’ve done anything to have someone like you with me and Oboro. Maybe he’d still be alive. That isn’t nothing.”

You vaguely remember the news story about Oboro Shirakumo when you were in late middle school, the year before you started at UA. Your parents brought him up to try and get you to not attend, and you thought that was disrespectful.

“You we’re with Oboro?” You asked.

“Oboro was my best friend. Me and Hizashi’s.”

“Oh….wow….” Your eyes traced the ground frantically thinking of what to say.

“You saved more than that boy tonight, believe me. A whole community of people have their friend tonight. Their colleague, their family member. That’s because of you…. Please understand that.”

Tears streamed down your face and Shouta grabbed a tissue to dab your cheeks. He kissed you above both of eyes, and you fell asleep in his arms.

———————-

Shouta woke you up a few times in the middle of the night as he was told, and you continued your conversations. He’d let you sleep for an hour or so and then gently nudge you awake and you’d stay up, talking where you left off before. He kept notes on his phone to remember the things you talked about so he could bring it back up when you awoke again.

“Sometimes I feel like UA failed us.” You said.

“It’s gotten a lot better since we’ve returned.” Shouta observed.

“Fair. I just was thinking about the whole general studies/hero course thing because of Shinso and I was irritated. I was forced into the hero course but they never taught me the things I needed to do to actually work in the field, to keep myself safe. They acted like I had a strength quirk or something but then when I couldn’t measure up, they just ignored me.”

“I can see that. It was similar for me, but I decided to only pay attention to physical and practical hero work after Oboro passed and let everything else fall by the wayside. But they seemed to think that was fine because I was strong.”

“They needed to teach us how to work together more. And rely on each others strengths.”

“You’re right about that one. I’m hoping we’re doing better with that now.”

You fell back asleep.

——————

“Shouta why haven’t we worked together before? Like hero work? Not like….tonight… but like in general. We both have stealthy quirks, I feel like it would work well.” You asked.

“You want to know the real reason or are you just suggesting we team up?”

“Both I guess.”

“I realized recently I was ignoring you and being rude because I really liked you. I was trying to make my feelings go away but I couldn’t….so I just kinda gave in.” He admitted. “But we should do hero work together. You could find the villains with your quirk and I could erase them before they even know we’re there. And we’ve finally learned how to communicate so maybe it would work out…heh.”

“Did we really learn how to communicate? Or did we just stop being shit heads.”

“Same thing.” He smirked.

——————-

“I like the dress you wore tonight. Even thought it’s a bit destroyed now…you looked nice.”

“Oh but I don’t look nice anymore?” You teased.

“That’s not- I didn’t-“

“I’m kidding Shouta. Thank you.” He sighed in relief, and you continued. “So do you only have that one blue tie?”

“HAH yes. I bought it for the one press conference I had to do.”

“I knew I’d seen it before…you looked nice in it though. We should get you some more.”

He blushed at your use of ‘we’. “I’d like that.”

———————

“Shouta what kind of smells do you like?”

“What….kind of smells?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah. I was putting on perfume and tonight and I didn’t know what you would like.”

“Um…I guess I don’t really know. Never thought about it.”

“What cologne do you wear?”

“I don’t…? I’m just hygienic I guess..?”

“So you just naturally smell like sandalwood?!”

“I don’t know what that is.” He chuckled.

—————————

“Have you just been wearing that suit this whole time?!” You realized it had been hours and he was just sitting with you.

“I…..didn’t want to leave you alone while I found something else to wear.”

“Shouta.”

“What.”

“Go find something comfy to wear! I’ll be right here, I’ll be fine.”

He left the room for a moment and came back with a dark t-shirt and bright pink sweatpants on, another big shirt folded in his arms.

“Oh. My. God.” You bursted out laughing.

“Okay okay get it out of your system. Zashi bought these for me as a gag gift years ago... but they’re really comfy.”

“I love them. This is fantastic.”

“I brought you a change of clothes too if you’d like.”

“Are you sure you’re okay with me borrowing your clothes?”

“What kind of a stupid ass, irrational question is that?” He joked.

You gasped, “I’m serious!”

“Please wear my shirt.”

You giggled, “okay.”

——————

“Shouta.”

“Hmm?” He replied

“Do I have to work tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow is Saturday.”

“Oh thank god,” you sighed and he snickered. “Do you have to work tomorrow?”

“I took the day off. I thought I would just hang around and make sure you’re okay.” He said.

“You‘re sweet, Shouta.”

“I’m glad you think so. Sorry for….the way I treated you before.”

“I’m sorry too. We were both stupid.”

He laughed, “yes we were.”

———————

“Shouta.”

“Yes, y/n?”

“Was this date…and like the time in the showers…all a one time thing?”

His smile fell. “…did you want it to be a one time thing…?”

“No…I want it to be a lots of times thing.” You giggled and looked away.

“Oh…good.” His smirk returned and he kissed you on the cheek. As he pulled back you took his face in your hands and gave him a deep, loving kiss. You felt the tension release from his body and he threw his arms around you, pulling you into his chest. “It’s a lot’s of times thing, then.”

[satansbooks]

Obey Me Headcanons

Reader is gn also winchester.

warnings: swear words. I don't know what to put in this. it's my first time actually so definitely be prepared of messy writing and some grammar mistakes?

a/n: hey! I hope you like it since I started watching supernatural again. I thought why don't I give it a try. I didn't add belphegor since this headcanon/fic takes a place in the first month of the whole exchange program. ✨here you are✨

word count: 1,7k

summary: reader is the youngest sibling of winchesters, end up in devildom.

okay so, you and your brothers were after a stupid shapeshifter for two weeks now and let me tell you that, being in a same car with your annoying brothers for two weeks without getting any rest to deal with them was sucked.

this shapeshifter (you guys were guessing he was an alpha since he was fast and wasn't struggling with shifting.) was homicidal maniac to be honest. he killed more than thirty children in a two weeks row and they were so random. like he was killing for fun. there were not any pattern or connection between them.

town to town, city to city. you and your brothers chased him non stoppingly. your body was craving for some bed to sleep on. or a pillow. or anything that is soft and resting. these leather seats were hella uncomfortable.

and still, still you had a very little information about him. he was leaving lots of trace for you to find him. he seemed like he was enjoying your little chasing game. well that makes one. because you were this close to lose your shit.

you were watching stars from your side of the car window while driving (the road was soo empty. you were sure you could drive with your eyes closed). your older brothers music was keeping you company on a low sound level to not to wake them up. normally Dean wouldn't trust you with his car but he was tired. after all he was driving for two weeks with a very little rest. he needed some sleep. at least more than six hours. and Sam, well he just likes sleeping and napping.

so when your vision blurred suddenly you act quick to pull over. without any second you found yourself in a room. it was like a court room with eight chairs. different animal shadows was painted on the walls behind the court chairs. dark decorations and purple&black flags all over the place. only some candles were lighting the whole room.

spooky?

later you found out you were in devildom as an exchange student for a whole year just because some fancy underground elite wanna show off to three realm that he's the one and only king that can bring peace and serenity. you were his little experiment.

anyone could tell you were beyond being angry. you were frustrated. and nothing, nothing you do could change that.

or you thought...

he knew keeping you under his control would be hard so he decided to do what he can do best.

dealing.

if you could stay here without giving him or the house of lamentation any trouble for a month, he was going to release you. but he was sure you would want to stay here after you spent a month. (he knew thanks to barbatos..)

you didn't say anything to him. you knew your brothers would come to get you before that. even if it means they have to destroy whole "devildom". you were sure. also you didn't have anything to use against these demons except your tattoo (which would only work if one of them wanna take over your body.) so the best option was keeping your mouth shut and agreeing with them. you just had to wait for a month.

first night was hard.

not that it got any easier for some time.

you couldn't sleep but who could have blame you. you were in hell. it doesn't matter which fancy name they were calling it. it was hell. the sulphuric smell was unbearable and of course you only had silver knives with you (you were carrying them in your shoe. they were kinda small but since a lot of creatures has a weak spot for silver the size didn't matter. you wished it could harm demons too) so you were unarmed.

they seemed nice tho. they were kind to you (most of the time) especially Beelzebub. so you thought to give them a shot. what could have happen worst?

Lucifer realized the runes you used to seal your room when he was bringing some paper work to your room about exchange program.

these kind of runes were useless here. but he didn't want to say anything to you, clearly you needed them.

Mammon was your 'first' guy. he was with you on your way to RAD and also in your classes. (Lucifer made sure that you two have the same class schedule) eventually you started talking with him because it was impossible not to. he was charming, talkative and funny. you would be lying if you said you wouldn't enjoying his company during your time with him. (especially after the whole pact thing. it only brought you two closer.)

you were quick to remove all runes in your room after that.  because you and mammon started watching movies together. sometimes Beel and Levi would join you.

and when you were not, you were with Asmodeus.

your father was trying to keep a balance between his kids and his hunting business, most of the time you were with your brothers. they were pretty protective over their younger sibling. that actually explained why you didn't have any friends.

so when asmodeus asked you to come shopping with him you were slightly shocked?

yeah, of course you and your brothers went to shopping but it was because of some necessity not for fun or spending your time.

but your nervousness passed quickly around him. he was lovely, and so very kind. you actually liked how straightforward he was. and this little "shopping sprees" turn into your things.

your first and genuine interactions with all of the brothers were on a dinner.

they were trying to scare mammon by using the so told "ghosts" in their house. they were just joking around but even the thought of them made the second eldest shudder.

you didn't say anything because you were enjoying your well-cooked meal which was from human realm (they decided to put some human world food in their menu in order to make you feel more comfortable)

"there's no such a thing as ghosts!"

Mammon said without waiting more. you could sense the anger mixing with fear in his voice. then you feel a sudden urge to laugh.

"oi, what are ya laughing at human!"

"of course there is Mammon. they're pretty common. I'm sure there is one in this house."

you couldn't stop your laughter. there wasn't anything funny about it actually but come to think of it, he was one of the most powerful demon in three realms and scared of low level creatures like ghosts?

brothers always forgot they actually have a hunter in their houses---

they all asked tons of questions about ghosts and other stuffs you've been hunting.

satan was the most curious one about this topic. he asked you many questions about them after dinner. of course he read all about them but it was just basic informations to be honest. (and they all sounded like a fairytale tbh)

please don't be surprised when he actually arranges some kind of hunting trip with you to examine them closely. lucifer didn't know about that.

but figured it out when two of you showed up to RAD very late, smelling like rock salt and fuel.

you gave him one of your notebooks (you started to take notes about the creatures you're hunting with your brothers just like your father did. you already had four notebooks for now. it was like diary.) to study. he appreciates it. :''

okay here's another thing, your older brothers appetite was something you've never seen before. or you thought before meeting with Beelzebub.

when you met Beelzebub for the first time you didn't mind his eagerness to eat that much. (Dean was your family's Beelzebub lol.) obviously you couldn't eat as much as he does but your company kept him happy.

he was giving you big-bear-hugs whenever you talk about your brothers or how bad you missed them. (he feels you :'))

you two started to go diners or whatever they were calling it so often. he was kind and thoughtful. even invited you to join him for workouts. (since you're not going hunting trips anymore, you decided to join him on gym to keep yourself and your form steady.)

after gym you usually would watch a show called "I'm an unstoppable powerful wizard but still don't know how to fall in love with someone so I'm hunting other creature's to forget about my massive heart-break but it's not really a heart-break." which was a good show to be honest.

thats how you got close with Levi. he already was impressed your skills as a hunter ('they're like, out of an anime!' he thought) so he invited you for long gaming sessions in his room. since you were always in a car. it was difficult first. but you got used to it. (he was good at teaching)

you spent tons of sleepless night with him: watching movies and animes, playing games, reading and re-acting manga scenes.

the most challenging demon to communicate was lucifer. he already met your brothers. and he didn't like them. he had a strong prejudice about you. he thought you were just like your brothers.

but after some time, when you started to get more comfortable around other brothers it also effected your relationship with the eldest.

and it all started with a dumb question.

he was doing some paperwork for lord diavolo with you about the exchange program. when you sighed for the millionth time in an hour. he had no choice but ask what was the problem.

"can you look into my eyes and ask me what do I truly desire?"

he was confused?

"I mean there's a Lucifer in human world who can bring people's darkest desires. so I was wondering if you could do the same."

now he was more confused.

there was a Lucifer in human realm? and what was his ability again?

when you try to explain him and failed over and over again you decided to show him.

and you two started to watch Lucifer.

he actually enjoyed spending some alone time with you.

after a month, your brothers never showed up. you didn't want them to. Lucifer said he taken care of them. and he promised that he didn't hurt them.

even if you missed your brothers too much. you knew one year wouldn't hurt anyone.

after all maybe that 'underground elite' was right. he was the one and only who could bring peace and serenity over the three realms...

and you were very thankful to him.

[undercookeddaichi]

11:18am

[ kenma and kuroo basically hookup in the boys bathroom every week ~ thats it, thats the fic ]

pairing: kozume kenma x kuroo tetsurou

warnings: smut, nsfw, light choking, light bdsm, teasing, degrading

word count: 3.2k

xxx

~

“Yeah, yeah, I know, I’m coming,” Kuroo sighs to himself as he leisurely makes his way down the hall.

He glances over his shoulder a few times, scanning for any sign of other students or teachers or anyone who might have wandered into this wing of the school for whatever reason. But it’s 11:18 AM on a Friday and these classrooms will be empty until noon. It’s empty except for Kuroo and his sighs, as expected, but it’s not like Kenma seems to care either way - Kuroo could hear his noises the moment he turned down the hallway.

Noises that are soft and pleading like kitten sounds, yet loud enough to echo out of the boys’ bathroom he’s waiting in and crash into Kuroo’s ears and dick. Just because it’s a part of their weekly routine doesn’t mean Kuroo will ever get used to Kenma’s fucking whimpering.

“Fuck,” Kuroo breathes, picking up his pace until he rounds the corner into the bathroom.

Kenma’s breathy whines are even louder as they ricochet off the linoleum floors and the dim lights and the smudged mirrors, forcing Kuroo’s heart rate to pick up and his head to spin. There’s another noise mingling with Kenma’s moans, a wet sound that’s softer than the rest but impossible to miss. Kuroo nudges the largest stall door open, the stall they use every Friday at 11:18 AM, and his breath catches dark in his throat when he sees Kenma bouncing on his own fingers.

Kenma peeks up at his boyfriend through half-lidded eyelids, his golden eyes glazed over in pleasure, but continues to thrust his fingers deeper into himself.

“Tetsurou~” He moans.

“You really couldn’t wait for me, kitten?” Kuroo locks the stall door behind him, kicking Kenma’s discarded pants and underwear aside.

Kenma’s crouched in the corner and Kuroo kneels down in front of him. For a long moment, he just watches. Watches Kenma’s throat bob up and down in unison with his moans, watches how plumped his lips get with every bite, watches how tousled his blonde hair gets as he bounces, watches a single drop of precum roll down his throbbing dick onto his stomach, just watching his boyfriend and wondering what he did in a past-life to deserve the perfection that is Kozume Kenma.

Kuroo gently caresses Kenma’s bottom lip with his thumb, letting the silky smooth feeling of saliva and cherry chapstick gather on his fingertip before bringing his finger to his own tongue. It tastes sweet, like Kenma, like cherries and warm things. He sucks on his thumb a bit, letting his own spit mingle with the tastes of Kenma, before bringing it back to Kenma’s mouth. He slips through Kenma’s parted lips easily, sliding his thumb up along his tongue and eliciting a gasp followed by a moan. Kenma looks like his eyes are about to roll back into his head as he risks being intoxicated completely by the feeling of his fingers sliding into his ass and Kuroo’s delicious thumb in his mouth.

“Someone’s desperate today.” Kuroo smirks. Kenma just whimpers.

Maybe it was because Kenma easily gets distracted thinking about Kuroo in class, maybe it was because Kuroo found out that this specific wing of the school is unoccupied on Fridays from 11 to noon, maybe it was because Kuroo struggled to go 5 schooldays without putting his hands on his Kenma even before they started dating. They’re not exactly sure when or how it started, but for the past couple months, Fridays at 11:18 AM in the boys’ bathroom has become their designated hookup spot. It’s 11:18 because Kuroo always says 11:15 but Kenma’s always late. But not today.

“It’s not my fault you made me wait.” Kenma manages to mutter in between pants.

“Aw, I’m so sorry to hear that. I made my kitten wait? Poor thing.” Kuroo purrs, pushing his thumb in farther and bringing his other hand up into Kenma’s hair. “Why don’t you take those pretty little fingers out and let me take care of you, hm?”

Kenma ignores him, shutting his eyes and thrusting his fingers up into himself harder. Kuroo grinds his teeth together but smiles through it.

“So that’s how it’s going to be.” He says softly.

Kenma tilts his head up to the side, his hair falling back and exposing the pale skin of his neck that he knows Kuroo can’t resist. And he really can’t. Kuroo pulls his finger out of Kenma’s mouth and brings his hand to his throat instead. He runs his wet fingertip from Kenma’s chin down his throat and across ridiculously soft skin, down to the vulnerable dip above his collarbone.

Brushing his lips along Kenma’s jaw, he starts to place delicate kisses along his neck, but he starts to bite, too, even though his bites always leave conspicuous red marks that can’t be mistaken for anything else. Leaving hickeys breaks one of their unspoken rules about doing this at school and Kenma moans loudly in protest, but Kuroo only digs his lips into Kenma’s skin harder.

“That’s what you get for not waiting.” Kuroo growls against his throat.

After leaving several marks along his neck that he’s sure their classmates will gape at, he brings their lips together and forces his tongue into Kenma’s mouth. He loves it more than anything when he can feel Kenma’s whimpers against their kiss, but Kenma knows that, too, and tries to stay silent. Maybe he would’ve been able to stay quiet if Kuroo didn't yank Kenma’s fingers out of himself, grip his wrists, and lift him up with his back pressed tightly against the wall.

He instinctively wraps his legs around Kuroo’s waist and whines at the feeling of Kuroo’s dick pressing up against his own, all the while gasping for breath as Kuroo’s tongue searches every corner of him. Letting Kenma wrap his arms around his neck, Kuroo brings his hands under Kenma’s thighs and burrows his fingertips into his soft flesh, smiling into their kiss at the groan his boyfriend makes.

Kenma pulls back, biting his lip and tasting Kuroo, and threads his fingers through Kuroo’s soft hair as he catches his breath.

“What do you want, princess? You wanna ride my fingers? You want me to suck you off? You want me to fuck that mouth of yours? Hm? Come on, be good and tell me.” Kuroo’s lips brush against his ear. But Kenma ignores him again and nuzzles into the crook of his neck, leaving his own gentle nibbles disguised as kisses. Kuroo’s breath catches at how hot Kenma’s tongue is on his throat.

“Kenma,” Kuroo whispers. “Baby. We don’t have all day, you know.”

“Why can’t we?” Kenma says against his skin.

Kuroo laughs and presses a kiss against his forehead.

“You know I’d fuck you every minute of every day if I could. But there’s this stupid thing called school that sort of gets in the way of that.”

“Never heard of it.” Kenma starts tugging on Kuroo’s tie.

“Very funny. I’m lucky my teacher hasn’t caught on to me leaving every Friday at this time yet, but until she does, I can do whatever I want to you. Isn’t that right, kitten?”

Kenma just kisses the tender spot between Kuroo’s jaw and neck, whining a little.

“In that case, I’ll decide for you today.” Kuroo says with a deeply smug tone to his voice that makes Kenma shiver. “On your knees.”

Pulling him away from the wall, Kuroo slides Kenma out of his grip so that he’s on his feet and immediately pushes his shoulders down until Kenma submits to the position on his knees. Kuroo cups Kenma’s chin and tilts his head up, brushing a few blonde locks out of his face with his other hand, and he parts Kenma’s swollen lips with his thumb like he did before.

“I’m gonna fuck those beautiful lips of yours. How does that sound?”

Kenma’s gaze wanders from Kuroo’s dark eyes, down to the bulge in his pants, a dark bulge that makes Kenma’s mouth water and a greedy moan escape him.

Kuroo smirks as he starts to undo his belt and pulls his pants down along with his briefs. “I knew you’d be good for me.”

There are only a few things that really grab Kenma’s attention, that make his eyes light up and his cheeks pink, things like video games and watching Shoyo play volleyball and cuddling with his cat. Kuroo’s dick is also one of those things.

Kenma unconsciously opens his mouth wider once he sees Kuroo’s dick spring out of his clothes. Kuroo takes Kenma’s head in his hands, soothing him by rubbing his thumbs in circular motions along his boyfriend’s temple. It’s like Kenma forgets Kuroo is there with the way his gaze locks onto Kuroo’s dick as if he’s never seen anything more mesmerizing in his whole fucking life.

Kuroo brings his hips forward, letting his tip just barely graze Kenma’s bottom lip. He has to hold Kenma’s head back to keep him from swallowing him whole.

“Hold on, kitten. I know you want it. I know you want my dick in your throat. But we’re gonna go at my pace.” He hums. Slower now, he keeps Kenma still as he guides himself into Kenma’s open mouth, too slowly for both of them but he keeps his pace until he feels the back of Kenma’s throat bump against his tip. He can barely retain his self control with how fucking hot Kenma’s mouth and breath is around him, how tempting it is to slam into him and let his cum flood his throat.

Kuroo brings his hands into Kenma’s hair and holds him tight, steady, as he pulls out as slowly as he entered and pushes back in. Kenma closes his lips around his length.

“That’s it, just enjoy it, princess. I’ll do all the work, okay? Just take me as good as you always do.” Kuroo says in between groans as he pulls Kenma by his hair to meet his hips halfway.

Kenma’s eyelids slip over the glassy gold of his irises, and he lets his body go limp just the way Kuroo likes it. Amidst a chaotic week of classes and practice and social interaction, there’s nothing Kenma loves more than sinking into his happy place with Kuroo in control. Even for just 15 minutes… He’ll get more of him tomorrow night when Kuroo spends the night to play video games and fuck him like he means it.

Feeling Kenma relaxing in his grip, Kuroo finally bucks his hips fast enough to get the friction he’s desperate for, letting out ragged moans every time his tip hits the back of his throat. He starts to go deeper, so deep that he feels himself slipping down Kenma’s throat and hears the suppressed noises of Kenma’s gag reflex as he pounds into him.

Kuroo can’t take his gaze off how fucking gorgeous his boyfriend looks. He thrusts his dick deeper and deeper through those perfect, full, pink, glistening lips and feels heat pooling at the base of his stomach and in his length.

“Ah, f-fuck, kitten.” He groans, fucking his mouth even quicker and throwing his head back. Kenma whimpers as Kuroo explodes in his mouth, his hot cum pouring down Kenma’s throat as his orgasm washes over his entire body. Kenma swallows it all, every last drop of Kuroo, and drags his tongue over Kuroo’s tip to make sure he doesn’t miss any.

Kuroo pulls out and drops his hands from Kenma’s hair. For a few minutes, Kenma just slumps against the wall and pants, trying to catch his breath and licking more cum off his lips.

“You were perfect, baby. Absolutely perfect.” Kuroo purrs. He gives himself a couple slow pumps before pulling his pants back up and fastening his belt with a content smile under his dark eyes. “But you can’t go back to class with that, can you.”

He crouches down to Kenma’s level, running a fingertip along Kenma’s dripping dick. Kenma almost flinches at the touch and breathes out a pitiful moan. Searching for something, any fabric to grip onto, he latches onto Kuroo’s tie and accidentally pulls him forward so their noses touch.

“So needy.” Kuroo smirks. “Why don’t you ride your pretty fingers again for me, hm?”

Kenma slants his eyebrows and gives a soft nod as he spits onto his fingers, positioning them at his entrance, two of them, still out of breath from Kuroo’s dick and completely fucking desperate. Kenma cries out when Kuroo takes his dick in one hand the same moment he slides his fingers into himself.

Kenma can’t reach his prostate like Kuroo’s fingers can, but he brushes against it at the same time Kuroo begins to pump him fast, really fucking fast and in the most dizzying way because his hand knows Kenma’s dick better than anything or anyone else. He’s already close and Kuroo can tell by the way he strains against the wall and nearly sobs rather than moans.

“That’s it, kitten. Come for me.”

Kenma’s back arches and his teeth come down on his bottom lip as he releases into Kuroo’s hot fingers. He slips out of his ass, his blonde hair falling to one side as he drops his head. He has no idea how he’ll go back to class after this.

Kuroo licks cum off one of his fingers and stands up, opening the stall door. Kenma can hear the sink running, the sounds of paper towels being yanked, and then feels his body being lifted. Kuroo cleans up his boyfriend delicately and even helps him back into his underwear and pants. He fastens his belt for him and re-knots his tie.

“Kenma. Look at me.”

Kenma finally tilts his head up. He opens his eyes and runs his fingers through his hair in a half-assed attempt to make it look like he wasn’t just fucked in the bathroom. Kuroo does his best to help him, but it’s sort of a lost cause. Kuroo laughs to himself.

“Yaku’s gonna beat my ass.” He sighs.

“It’s not like they don’t know.” Kenma tries to fix a messy spot in Kuroo’s black hair.

“Yeah, but still. Ugh. We have practice today, huh.”

Kenma crinkles his nose. “Ew.”

Kissing his boyfriend’s forehead, Kuroo stretches his arms above him and sighs again. He picks up both his and Kenma’s bags, pushing the stall door back open with his knee and leads both of them out. While Kenma washes his hands, Kuroo balances his chin on top of Kenma’s head.

As they leave the bathroom, Kuroo daydreams about next Friday at 11:18 AM.

[riftimagines]

Lightbringer Cafe-Ch.1

Ahhh! Its been a while but i return with this random fic im writing! Ill post this on Ao3 and put a link in a bit! You can read it here too if you’d like!

Ao3 link: https://www.archiveofourown.org/works/29356611

Summary: Starting a Cafe is what you wanted to do and you love it! Sometimes though it can be a bit boring and sometimes wish for a little excitement in your day. Well even though the boredom some exciting and fun stuff will happen! These stories are about those days. 

Note: This is a Modern AU

Ships: A variety of ships eventually, even some with the reader. For this chapter Its some awkward, dorky Kayn and a flirty reader!

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

New dawn breaks light through the freshly cleaned windows. The smell of coffee just ground for the day filling the air and a slight chill from the cold weather outside that just seems to seep in even with the heater on. Overall, it seems like it’ll be a nice day to day and hopefully the chilly winters day will bring new customers into your lovely Cafe. You walk over to the door and flip the sign that hug on it letting all who walk by know you are open for business. You had just opened this Cafe not too long ago and only recently really started to pick up on business. So far its just been office workers near by and Hipsters that seem to show up. Nothing too interesting yet, not that you’re complaining. Business is business after all. Still, sometimes you wish someone interesting would come through your doors and make your day a little more fascinating, a little spice to your day.

A calm sigh leaves you as you sit on a stool behind the counter, waiting for any customers to walk in. Sometimes it did take a little while for people to come in but with the cold maybe someone will want something warm to drink. Before you have time to get bored waiting the bell on your door chimes to signal you in fact have customers now. You look over at two men walking in. One was and older, seemingly albino man. The other a slightly taller, young man with long black hair. The blue strip in his bangs standing out prominently from his raven locks. The older man walks to the back part of the Cafe where the lights are really not that bright, you really need to change them at some point, and sits down in the corner. He looks to the younger man that followed him and they seem to talk, probably about what to order if you had to guess.

They take a moment more before the younger of the two walks over and grins at you. Looking at him better you have to stop yourself from blushing. He’s very handsome admittedly but you can’t lose your composure over a handsome face now, your working! You just give him a friendly smile back and greet him accordingly.

“Hello, Sir. What would you like today?” You say as politely as possible. He looks up at the menu behind you and mulls over his thoughts. You wait patiently, there was no rush no one else was here anyway. His amber eyes trail back down to you. For a moment you get lost in the honey hues but quickly come back to reality when he speaks.

“I will have a Coffee and a Hot Green Tea, a two sugars and a little milk in the coffee and a little honey in the Tea. You can manage that right?”  His voice was so lovely too until that last quip. You don’t make too much of a scowl at him for that, he could just be having a bad day or something. You just nod for now.

“Of course, One Coffee, two sugars, little milk and a Hot Green Tea with a touch of Honey, coming right up! Oh what name will that be under?” He looks at you confused and scoffs.

“There’s only two customers in here, why do you need to know my name?” You frown fully this time at his rudeness. You walk back up to him and narrow your eyes.

“Because thats just how I do business and I don’t know who the order could be for. For all I know these drinks could be for someone else. That’s why I ask.” He seems a little taken back by the way you talked back to him. He looks like he’s about to say something back when a deeper, gravely voice cuts in.

“Kayn, just give them your name.” The albino man in the corner piped up, effectively shutting up whatever rude remark was coming out of ‘Kayn’s’ handsome face. You are quick to grab a pen and write ‘Cane’ on it just to spite him. You look towards the other man.

“Thank you, Sir. See that wasn’t so hard, sweetie.” He makes a weird face between a pout and confusion and honestly you can’t entirely blame him. You had no idea where that ‘sweetie’ came from but its out there now. You can regret later. With that you turn from him to start warming up some water to seep the Tea, the coffee would be much quicker. Once the water is set to heat up and the coffee cup under the coffee machine you sit on your stool. Good Tea needs properly warmed water and a little patience after all. You sitting there seemed to be an open invitation for Kayn to come up to where you were sitting and pout at you. You look at him and smile.

“Hello there, Sir. Can I help you?” He just huffs, clearly a bit miffed from earlier.

“First, you’re rude to me then you just sit here not getting our order. Are you going to do anything but sit there?” You roll your eyes at him. You have no idea how that guy in the corner can put up with this brat.

“I’m waiting for the water for the Tea to warm up. Im sure your friend over there wants good, hot Tea not cold bitter Tea. There is a process to make fresh tea.” You huff at him and give him an annoyed stare.

“You were so much more attractive before you spoke you know. Maybe you should learn some manners, huh?” He blinks and stares at you for a bit, the slightest dust of pick across his cheeks. So light you could say it was just a change in light. You’re not entirely sure why he’s gone quiet though, maybe you were being rude now. You should probably apologize. Before you can say anything you hear him mutter something very softly.

“You think I’m attractive?” Now its your turn to blink. Could he not see himself in the mirror?

“Yeah, I mean it’s pretty obvious?” He suddenly jumps at you speaking which causes you to jump too. He looks panicked like he just did something terrible.

“I-Uh, Of course I am! Im gorgeous!” You can’t help but laugh at his panic. It seems he unknowingly spoke his thoughts. Rather interesting that he would even think he’s not attractive. To have such doubts when it’s clearly the opposite is a little sad you think. You guess even the most beautiful people must have their doubts. You look at him again and see a much more noticeable redness on him. Perhaps a little mercy will go a long way here.

“Really smooth recovery. Smooth as you hair even.” The redness on his face doesn’t leave but he leans on the counter anyway like he’s the most confident person in the universe. Clearly he’s just a handsome dork it seems. Not that there is anything wrong with that but its kinda nice to know he isn’t a total jerk. You watch the dark haired man cough in to his hand trying to steady himself.

“I thought so. Glad to see you aren’t blind enough to see that.” Ah back to the arrogance it seems. Normally this would put you off but there’s just something deeper to him, like he’s scared of just being himself for some reason. It kinda reminds you of that saying ‘Fake it till you make it’ Its just a ruse to seem cooler then what he is. A part of you is somewhat sad he has to do that, hide what light he has in shadow.

“Even I would have to be pretty blind to miss your pretty face.” He looks away from you for a bit, clearly trying not to look into your eyes. You chuckle a little bit when a whistling sound catches your attention. The water! You get up to go to turn off the heat and begin to seep the tea. Only a couple minutes no more no less. While it seeps you prep the coffee and let it start to brew. A fresh brew took a little longer but you figured maybe you should be a little nicer to Kayn after your teasing. The machine whirs to life and produces a wonderful smelling coffee. The two sugars and a splash of milk is added to it before you place it in front of him. He looks at the cup and can’t help but notice your little ‘Cane’ Spelling on the cup.

“That’s not how you spell my name!” He exclaims. You laugh hardily at his ire and look back at him. You had honestly forgotten about that until just now.

“I’m sorry about that. Though to be fair I did ask you your name and I had to get it from someone else. If you want your name properly spelled next time tell me how to spell it.” He narrows his eyes and crosses his arms.

“Maybe you should learn how to spell.” Oh here we go again you think to yourself. You go back to the tea before you respond and pour it into a cup. Placing it to the side you look at him with a raised eyebrow.

“I did spell it right. That is in fact how you spell “Cane”. If your name is spelled different you should have told me.” He huffs again. You did have a point, he just didn’t like to admit it. While he’s silenced you go back to the tea and grab the honey. Carefully you spoon in just a little bit of the golden substance. The color of it reminding you of the man behind you. His eyes are the same color. You shake the thought from your head and finish up the tea. You place the second cup before him and smile.

“Here you go, honey eyes.” Welp, why you decided to go ahead and say that you’ll never know. The poor man in front of you looks confused and a little flustered.

“Honey eyes?” You want to slap yourself in the head for saying that but it’s too late now isn’t it? You look at him sheepishly and blush a bit yourself.

“Uh, yeah. You’re eyes are the same color as honey. I’m sorry. Thats probably really weird to say, hehe.” Stop being awkward. Oh this just became so much more weird. Why didn’t you just shut up and just take his order? Why do you feel the need to banter? The both of you stand there like sheepish teenagers. It’s Kayn that breaks the silence though.

“I-It’s alright! Uh, you, uh, smell nice! Like this coffee!” As soon as he says that he slaps his forehead and buries his face into his hands. You laugh again at his awkwardness. He was kinda cute when he wasn’t being rude. You decide you like this Kayn much more then the arrogant one from earlier.

“Well I do spend a lot of time around coffee. It was bound to infuse itself into my very being at some point, so thanks.” He peers back at you and openly stays red as he scratches the back of his head. There is an other awkward, flustered pause between you before its broken by the other person in the room.

“Kayn, if you have our drinks then let us leave. You’ll be late to your class, again.” Kayn jolts from his spot as the older albino comes up from behind him so quietly not even you noticed him move.

“Oh! Right, I have them dad. Here’s your tea!” Kayn quickly hands his father the tea and he nods a thanks before heading to the door. Kayn looks to you again awkwardly.

“So then, uh, goodbye. I suppose I’ll stop by again then.” He says. You give him a bright smile and nod.

“I’m looking forward to it, handsome.” You both blush at your boldness and he grips his coffee with both hands before jogging away after his father. The albino looks at him completely confused and Kayn waves him off. The older man looks back at you with suspicion and a part of your soul freezes with that look. Ok then, note to self, handsome’s father is absolutely terrifying. You watch them walk off until you can’t see them anymore. That was quite away to start off the day, you wonder what other encounters you’ll have and if they’ll be as nice as that one.

[everything-person]

Coming Out to Dinner

A/N: HAPPY THANKSGIVING! Okay so this maybe a little late but in my defense my parents are divorced so I had second Thanksgiving today with my mom. This plot has been in my head for a while and it just felt appropriate to make it a Thanksgiving fic. Hopefully even if you don’t celebrate the holiday you can still enjoy this fic.

Summary: It’s November in Storybrooke Thanksgiving just around the corner. The Swan-Jones family is celebrating in a special way this year. (takes place after season 7)

🦃🦃🦃🦃🦃🦃🦃🦃🦃🦃🦃🦃🦃🦃🦃

“What are we doing for Thanksgiving next week,” Hope asked as munched on a waffle on morning.

Killian looked up at his wife waiting to hear the answer as well. He still didn’t really understand the holiday or why they celebrated it even after all these years living in this realm.

“Well,” Emma said as she chewed on a piece of bacon, “Your grandparents are in charge of cooking. Your grandpa is cooking the turkey. Then grandmas making roasted carrots, greenbean casserole, brussel sprouts, broccoli with cheese, sweet potatoes-”

“What about the mashed potatoes and stuffing?” Hopes face was full of concern over her favorite sides.

“I’m making those,” Emma stated taking another beat of her bacon.

“Grandma’s letting you incharge of not one but two sides?!”

Emma rolled her eyes, “I can boil potatoes, and the stuffing is coming from the box. I can follow instructions.”

Hope eyed her mother, “Okay but where we having it whose all coming?”

Emma swallowed the last bit of her bacon, “I think this year is gonna be smaller then previous ones. Regina said she probably won’t be able to make it this year. I think Henry and Ella are planning on surprising Regina with take out but they maybe over for dessert. Granny is staying open on Thanksgiving so shes busy. Zelena is Zelena. So I think its just gonna be us with your grandparents and uncle.”

“We will be hosting this feast this year,” Hopes father finally spoke up, “and you are free to invite someone if you’d like, love.”

Hope looks as if she about to say something before she decides against it. She bites her lip and turns her attention back onto her breakfast. Her parents gave each other a look before returning to their own food.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

WEEK OF THANKSGIVING

Hope sat on her bed reading the newest book Henry brought over for her when her phone rang. Her face lit up when she saw who was calling her.

“Hello beautiful,” Hope answered.

“Hello to you too gorgeous,” a femmene voice replied.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of receiving your call, milady.”

A giggle came through her phone that warmed Hopes heart. “I just wanted to call and see what you were up to.”

“I’m just hanging out in my room. Henry brought over a new book for me.”

“Oh I’m sorry if I’m disturbing you from your reading.”

“Not at all. I’m sure it’s a fine book but I’d rather be talking to you.” 

“Well aren’t you one smooth talker. I bet you can do more than just talk with that silver tongue of yours.”

Hope starts choking on her own spit. 

Laughter once again rings her ears, “I’m only teasing. Your so cute when you get flustered.”

Hope clears her throat trying to regain her composure, though her cheeks still felt warm. “So uh what are you doing for Thanksgiving?”

“If this is your way of asking me to Thanksgiving dinner with your family, I accept.”

“No. I was-”

“I don’t think my family are dong anything they might be going to Grannies.”

“But I-”

 “Don’t get me wrong I love Grannys. But it’s Thanksgiving your suppose to have a home cooked meal. Plus being able to finally meet-”

“I’M NOT INVITING YOU TO DINNER,” Hope all but yelled.

The silence that followed was deafening. Hope realizing what she did covered her mouth wishing she could take it back. 

“Oh.”

Taking her hand away from her mouth Hope spoke, “I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to yell and I didn’t mean for it to sound like that. I would love for you to come over-”

“It’s okay. I get if its a just the family thing.”

“No its not- Its not that.”

“Okay so what is it?”

Hope squeezed her eyes shut as she prepared to say this next part, “I haven’t told my parents.”

“You haven’t told your parents what?”

“About us. That I have a girlfriend.”

“... Are you embarrassed by me?”

“No! No. This has nothing to do with you and everything to do with me.” 

“I’m not following.”

The tears Hope was holding in began to fall, “I’m-I’m scared. I don’t know how they will react or-or if they will even accept me. I don’t want to hide you or our relationship but I also don’t want my parents to hate me.”

“Aww babe.”

Hope began crying more as panic set in, “What if they tell me I can’t see you anymore? Or-or they make me go to therapy? Or they kick me out?”

“Baby you don’t really think they would kick you out, do you?”

“I don’t know,” Hope sniffled, “My dad is over 300 years old so he’s really old fashioned. My mom doesn’t talk about stuff so I have no idea what my mom thinks. Trust me, there have been so many times I have almost told them. So many times I have wanted to tell them about my beautiful funny girlfriend but I’m so scared.”

“Hey hey its okay. I get it. Tell them when you feel comfortable and safe to. okay? I don’t want you to feel pressured.”

Hope wiped her nose before replying with a soft “okay.”

“So... I’m your beautiful funny girlfriend am I?”

The conversation turned back to light teasing. Both females blissfully unaware of the figure moving away from the door and heading back downstairs.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

THANKSGIVING

After a relaxing morning sipping on hot chocolate with cinnamon and watching the parade the Swan-Jones family split up. Emma getting the kitchen ready to be cooked in, Killian setting the table and Hope upstairs to change for dinner and wait for her grandparents and uncle to arrive. 

“Hope!” 

Hope her her father call for her from downstairs. 

“Come down, love. Guests should be here any minute.”

Hope marches downstairs and heads to the kitchen to see if there’s anything she can help with. Thats when the table caught her eye. Her brows furrowed as she counted the place settings.

“I thought just grandma, grandpa and uncle Neil were coming over. Why are there so many plates?”

Just then the doorbell rang. Hope turned her head and watched as her father opened the door greeting their new arrivals.

“Lady Ruby. Lady Dorothy thank you for joining us today. Happy Thanksgiving.”

“Happy Thanksgiving Captain. Thank you for for inviting us.”

Hope quirked up an eyebrow, “Aunt Ruby?”

Ruby turned, her polite smile turning into a shit eating grin, “There’s my favorite lemur.”

Ruby quickly approached her niece wrapping her arms around her in a big hug. “It feels like forever since I’ve seen you. One of these day we are gonna go out just you and me.”

“What are you doing here? I thought Grannys was staying open.”

“Oh it is. Granny said she and the rest of the staff could handle it.”

“Ahem.”

Ruby finally released her niece stepping away so Hope could see the dark haired woman standing just a step behind her aunt. 

“OH sorry babe. Hope I don’t think you two have met. This is Dorothy my signifcant other.”

Hopes eyes blown wide, she’s so in shock she nearly misses when Dorothy extends a hand to her. 

“It’s nice to finally meet you Hope.”

Hope shakes herself out of it to grab the offered hand and shake it. 

“Um yeah you too. So how long have you two been together?” she asks hesittantly.

“Um I think maybe a year or two before you were born.”

“WHAT?! How am I only hearing about this now?”

Ruby chuckles before offering an explanation, “Well unlike your parents or grandparents we don’t feel the need to be together all the time. Or to talk about our relationship. Dorothy is also very busy being in charge of the OZ section of Storybrooke and the munchkins that live there.”

Hope was at a lost for words, thankfully she didn’t need them as the couple excused themselves to go say hello to her mother. Not long after that her grandparents and uncle. Soon the house smelled of food and light chatter. 

The door bell rang and a curious Hope answered. She opened the door to find two men standing now their porch. One had brown hair with green eyes and clean shaven, the other had brown eye with salt and pepper hair with matching beard. “Um, hi. Can I help you?”

“Sorry to disturb you. Does Captain Hook live here by any chance?” asked the bearded one.

Hope eyed the men before turning her head and calling for her father. When he saw who was at the door he greeted the men with a smile. “James! Thomas! Glad to see you two could make it. Come in please.”

Killian opened the door wider allowing the men to step through, closing the door behind them one they entered. Killian wrapped an arm around his daughter before introducing everyone.

“Hope I’d like you to meet some of my old crew mates.”

“Hi.” Hope gave both of them a small wave.

“This here is James,” he introduced the bearded man.

“Its a pleasure to meet you, Hope.”

Hope nodded giving him a polite smile.

“And this,” her father gestured to the clean shaven man, “is his partner Thomas.”

“Husband actually. After all these years we finally got hitched.”

“Well congrats gents. That’s marvelous. Come on let me get you both a drink and introduce you to everyone.” Killian droopped a kiss to his daughters hea before unwrapped his arm from around her leading the couple further into the house. Leaving Hope standing their stuck in her own head. 

Two hours later the food is almost ready and everyone is starting to gather around the table when the door bell rings again.

“I got it,” Emma called. She came back a minute later with Alice and Robin in tow. “Look what the cat dragged in everyone.”

A chorus of greetings followed.

“Hi everyone. Sorry if we are late but we brought chocolate covered strawberries.”

“No worries at all foods almost done so take a seat,” Emma waved away their apology, taking the plate and placing it in the fridge to save for later.

“And don’t worry Alice. We are making a plate for your father so you can take to him. Robin we can make one for you mother too if you’d like,” David offered.

“Thank you,” Alice smiled.

“Yeah thanks. I think she would appreciate a little plate.” Robin replied.

As everyone settled at the table, Snow and David began to fill it with all the sides and dishes that were created. Hope took a moment to look around the table to all their guests. Seeing all the friendly faces, and feeling the warm atmosphere, in that instance she made up her mind. 

Turning to her mother she asked, “Can I barrow the car?” Not bothering to wait for an answer as she put on her shoes and jacket.

Emma raised an eyebrow at her daughter. “And where are you going?”

“Theres someone missing,” She said as she closed the door behing her.

Twenty minutes later Hope is back but this time she is holding hands with a dark skinned girl. 

“Mom. Dad. Everyone, this is Celine. My girlfriend.” Her voice trembled slighty when she spoke.

Squeezing Hopes hand in what she hoped was a comfortng way, Celine smiled and waved at evryone. “Hello. Its a pleasure to be here.”

The small silence was broken by the sound of Killian pushing his chair back. He approached the young girls stoping in front of them. He offered a gentle smile before reaching forward. “Thank you for joining us Celine. Its an honor to meet you.”

Hope let out  a breath she wasn’t aware she was holding in, one lone tear escaped the corner of her eye sliding down her cheek. 

“Please come sit we were just about to begin dinner.”

Dinner went on smoothly. Filled with friendly chatter and compliments of the wonderful food. After dinner Henry, Ella, and Lucy all made an appearance for games then dessert. After dessert people started to had home. When it was down to just her grandparents and uncle left, who always stay to help clean up, Hope approached her mother from behind. Wrapping her arms around her in a hug, Hope whispered a ‘thank you’ inot her mothers shoulder.

“You have nothing to thank me for. You should talk to your dad though. He was the one who insisted we invite evryone.” Emma dried off her hands before turning around and returning the hug.

“I don’t care who you date. As long as they treat you well and you are happy. No matter what you will always be my daughter and I will always love you.”

Once they let go Hope went to find her father which didnt take long. She found him sitting on the front step enjoying the calm night. She sat down next to him leaning against his arm and laying her head on his shoulder.

“How did you know?”

“I heard you on the talking phone earlier this week. I thought it best to show you evrything was alright then to tell you.” Killian looked at his daughter, “I am a 300 year old pirate there isn’t anything I haven’t seen before. I fought to hard for my happy ending to judge others on their own.”

Hope nodded understanding what her dad was trying to say.She cuddled into her father more whispering ‘I love you dad,’ into his neck. 

Killian kissed the top of her head, “I love you too love. And nothing you do will ever change that.”

[heartofsnark]

This Is Love (Chapter Ten): The Snakes We Don’t See

Notes: Kinda been sitting on the two most recent chapters, since I like started to write some cyberpunk 2077 stuff. So, thats why its been a while, but given how short the prologue for that fic is, I decided to go ahead and update this this month as well. 

Word Count:  13277

Chapter Warnings: Child Abuse (excerpts from the book of joseph), Suicide (non-graphic but still), A body horror dream (my favorite) with some symbolism/implications of sexual assault, discussion of religion, and really really way too blunt on the nose foreshadowing

For chapter one and the warnings about this fic’s overarching themes, please click here!

For the previous chapter; click here!

The church and compound look beautiful in the moonlight, Dahlia can’t help but note as she drives Cassie towards it. The modest white buildings and the silver gate work looking beautiful beneath a blanket of stars. It’s not a steady bustle of activity like it was last time, thanks in large part to the late hour, she’s sure. But there’s a few church members meandering around the outside of the church, beyond the gate. Which, to her dismay is being watched by Theodore. It had to be one of the two members who hate her, didn’t it? Because life can’t just kick her in the teeth once and call it done, no, it has to throw in a few extra hits for good measure. The towering man is glaring at her as she comes to a slowed down stop before the gate. 

“Though I doubt it’s why you’re here, service is over, so save me a headache and scram.” 

“No can do, I gotta talk to Joseph.” 

“Pfff,” he scoffs at her, “you arrest me, ruin service, and then come around demanding an audience with The Father. Gotta hand it to you, nothing else, you got balls.” 

“Technically, Hudson arrested you, I wasn’t hired yet.” 

“You think that helps?” 

“Come on man, this ain’t about me.” 

He looks past her to Cassie, still holding onto Dahlia’s back, face ducked down to hide away from his amber gaze. Dahlia can see gears turning in his head and he sighs, rolling his eyes. 

“Fine, you can come through, but only ‘cause The Father likes you.” 

“Thanks,” Dahlia parks her bike, Cassie handing her back her helmet before the pair walk into the compound. 

“That guy at the gate is kind of…a lot.” 

“Eh, he doesn’t like me much, but he’s not that bad. Lonny’s probably the biggest d-bag I’ve met here, Jacob and his…friends, if you can call ‘em that, are a bit rough. But, even then, I’m seen more friendly faces than I’ve seen cruel ones.” 

A few people recognize Dahlia from the barbecue, giving her a kind smile and a friendly wave as she passes by in search of Joseph. She returns the kind gestures but stays focused on her goal. Dahlia isn’t quite sure she’s ready to fulfill her promise of stepping foot into the church just yet, but if they’re freshly done with service, that’d be where she’d find him. 

“Deputy,” a soft angelic voice speaks out, Faith walking through the compound  yard towards them, her hair is done up in plaits with flowers twisted in them, “is everything okay?” 

“Uh, not really? I was hoping to talk to Joseph? If he’s around.” Of course he’s around, she’s not sure why she’s acting like there’s a chance he’s not here. 

“Sure, I’ll go get him right away.” 

She breathes a sigh of relief when she sees him, walking out of the church with Faith beside him, she’s never been happier to see a preacher in her entire life. Dahlia looks over at Cassie and sees the raised eyebrow, which is understandable. Joseph is Joseph, strange and weird, shirtless with a myriad of sins and tattoos etched into his skin, and yellow aviators on despite the silver moonlight that covers them all. But at the moment, that moonlight gives him a halo, a saving grace for a shitty night. 

“Deputy, I’m surprised to see you so soon,” Josephs greets her,

“Yeah, I’m sorry to bug you, but I…we,” Dahlia looks back at the still timid Cassie, duffle bag held out in front of her lap,  “need some help. I didn’t know who else to turn to.” 

“Of course, if there’s anything I can do to help, I will.” 

“Well, Joseph, Faith, this is my friend Cassie, Cassie this is Joseph and Faith,” Dahlia first introduces them

“Hi…” Cassie gives an awkward nod of her head. 

“A pleasure to meet you,” Joseph responds with a warm smile, “though I feel there’s more to this than friendly introductions.”

His gaze lingers on Dahlia’s knuckles, still stained with Liam’s blood. 

“Okay, so, Cassie’s home life is,” Dahlia pauses and looks to Cassie, searching for words that she might be comfortable with the deputy using, “bad, she’s not safe there. That’s all I’ll say. So, I was letting her stay with me but….recent events mean it ain’t too safe there either.” 

“I’m so sorry, I’m sure this has been difficult on the two of you.” 

“Difficult is a word for it; but more importantly, I hear Eden’s Gate takes folks in.” 

“Deputy…”

“I know it’s a lot to ask, I know it’s short notice, and I-“ 

A large warm hand grasps her shoulder and she doesn’t flinch, not this time.

“I’m honored you’d come to me for help.” 

And she feels his sincerity in his touch, hears it in every word, and sees it in his eyes. It’s hard to believe how much she distrusted him at first, she curses her past for coloring her view. He’s strange certainly, but he’s good.

“So, I take it you can help?” 

“Of course, my child.” 

“We have plenty of space at the convent,” Faith chimes in with a soft smile, looking from Joseph to Cassie. 

“Thank you, thank you, seriously, thank you so much,” Cassie gushes, relief swimming in her dark eyes. 

“We can get you settled in tonight.” 

“That’s so sweet, I can’t thank you enough.” 

“We’re happy to help,” then Joseph’s eyes turn to Dahlia, “will you be alright though, deputy?”

Joseph suddenly catches her hand in his own, brushing his fingers over her bloodied knuckles, no sign of hesitation at the rough sight. Brows furrowed in concern. 

“Oh yeah, it’s not mine, don’t worry, uh,” she catches herself, “that sounds bad, but like dude was gonna torch my trailer so, it was like okay to punch him, I think.” 

“Wait, what?”  Cassie’s eyes go wide as she looks to Dahlia, she must not have seen Liam with the lighter, only Dahlia striking him. 

“Yeah, dude was gonna fuckin’ torch the place, so I blacked his eye. More than fair, if you ask me.” 

“Okay, first,” Cassie starts and Dahlia smiles as a bit of the girl’s personality peeks through her fear, “I didn’t know it was that bad. Secondly, I don’t think you’re suppose to talk like that in front of a church and it’s preacher.” 

“I also shouldn’t have worn a shirt that said ‘hail satan’ to their sermon.” 

“You what?” 

“Look, in my defense,” Cassie is covering her mouth and laughing, a welcomed sight, “I don’t think, okay, you think I think and I just don’t alright.” 

Dahlia is laughing through her own words, face flushed red at being the butt of the joke, but if it can bring a smile to Cassie’s face right now she’d make a thousand more mistakes like it.  Faith’s little melodic giggles ring out behind her own hand. Joseph doesn’t laugh but he does smile. With the tension of Cassie’s housing eased, everyone seems in a brighter mood. 

“And despite all that, you still like her?” Cassie asks, looking up at Joseph and Faith.

“I’d get mad but like, fair fuckin’ question.” 

“I’ve forgiven sins and transgressions far greater than yours,  deputy,” Joseph says and his eyes are intense, kind, but the word sins makes the hair on the back of her neck stand up. It’s not a fun word, but most religions have a ‘everyone’s born a sinner’ mentality. So, surely she can’t be too upset. 

“Your patience is both staggering and appreciated, I assure you,” Dahlia tells him, her smile a bit more forced than it was a moment ago. If he can tell he doesn’t say anything. 

“Come on Cassie, I’ll introduce you to everyone and we’ll get you settled, okay?” 

“Yeah, that sounds nice.” 

Faith grabs Cassie’s hand and leads her away with a giggle, the sigh of the flower adorned woman leading her away in the night reminds Dahlia of her odd dream before. The draw of Faith, the siren pulling someone away in the moonlight. But that’s silly, Dahlia tells herself, they’re climbing into a pickup truck drove by another church member, yelling goodbyes to Joseph and Dahlia with smiles on their face. Yet the image of a siren dragging a victim into the sea pricks at her mind, despite how asinine it may be.  

Dahlia shakes her head, wondering why her nerves have suddenly ticked up. She’s over this, isn’t she? Eden’s Gate is good, she reminds herself, one of the few good things in this county that’s actually helping people instead of letting them drift into the cracks. Despite everything she’s heard, they’re good.  Her personal issues is just fucking with her, that has to be it. 

“Are you certain you’ll be okay, Deputy?” Joseph asks as the truck rolls down the curves of the road, disappearing over the horizon, Cassie gone with it. 

“Uh, yeah, gave the guy a hell of a shiner so he should cut the shit for a while. Should be fine.” 

“Is it?” 

“Fuck if I know, but what am I gonna do, sit around and cry about it?” 

“I certainly wouldn’t expect you to, but if something does happen, you know you can come to me.” 

“Yeah, uh, it means a lot,” Dahlia scratches at the back of her neck, his gaze too intense again, “and thanks again for helping out Cassie. It means a lot, I really don’t know if I can thank you enough.” 

“You could always attend church, if you wanted to show thanks.” 

“Patient but persistent, I see, but, uh, not quite ready to cash in that promise yet.”

“I understand but, I’d be remiss if I didn’t caution you. My patience may be staggering, but the world is not so kind. Time is finite and you window for finding salvation may be closing quicker than you know.” His voice is fevered and impassioned,  hints of a southern accent peeking through as his intensity rises, awash in moonlight the glow of it around turns from a halo to an eerie glow.

“Okay, not holding back, are you?” Dahlia tries to laugh it off, religious folks are just like this sometimes, aren’t they?

“I would be doing you a disservice if I did.”

“So…you think the worlds ending?” She asks, trying to keep her tone light, the only other interpretation of her window closing is Joseph’s convinced she’ll die soon.

“You don’t?” He questions, brows furrowed, as if the idea of the world not ending is ridiculous. And…she kind of gets that.

“I didn’t say that,” she moves to lean her back against the church building, standing next to Joseph instead of before him, looking at the stars, “I mean eventually humans are gonna destroy the planet, climate change, corporate pollution, not to mention us just trying to kill each other half the time. And even if we don’t fuck it up, eventually time will, sun’s going to go to the next stage and destroy the earth. So…”

“You sense it coming, too..”  He presses his back against the wood next to her, no longer focusing his stare on her but the moon, maybe he sense her unease with his gaze…

“Yeah…I guess, don’t know when or how, but eventually…”

The itch of nerves under her skin is too strong, she digs a cigarette from it’s pack and lights it, smoking against the church building. John warned her it’s forbidden by Eden’s Gate, that Joseph wouldn’t like such an act, but he doesn’t stop her in the moment. Whether it’s another moment of him showing her kindness or just consideration for her not being apart of the church, she doesn’t know.  

“Yet, you still put off salvation.”

“Okay,” she exhales a plume of smoke, “I’ll bite, what’d that fix?”

“When the world collapses those who’ve followed the path to Eden, confessed their sins, atoned, and made their sacrifice will be the ones who walk into the garden, into New Eden. A world cleansed of sin and turmoil. The world will be pure again, free of pain.”

New Eden sounds like their heaven, essentially, to Dahlia. So, nothing truly new by any religious standards. Almost every Christian religion has a doomsday, revelation, apocalypse, end of the world and those who do what god wants get to be super happy in some magic paradise, while everyone else burns. Same stuff, new label.

“Well, as much as your concern for my immortal soul is appreciated, I’m gonna have to pass.”

“You’ll come to understand eventually… I just hope it’s not too late.”  

She scratches at the back of her neck again, his words leaving a bad taste in her mouth that mingles with the nicotine, it feels dismissive of her… Like he claims to know her feelings and where they’ll end up better than she does. There’s a habit among those older than her to assume they know how the world works more than she does, she chalks it up to an old man thing, and lets it roll off her back. He still helped her, despite his faults. 

“We’ll have to agree to disagree, but I do appreciate everything, I’ll have to when I get a chance call Cassie and see how she’s settles in.” 

“I’m afraid that won’t be so simple.” 

“What?” She turns to look at Joseph now, raising an eyebrow, why wouldn’t she be able to call Cassie?

“While Cassie is staying with us, we do expect her to abide by our rules. There are no cellphones permitted in the convent, I’m sure you understand.” 

“Oh,” Dahlia blinks, “guess that explains why not a single person was on their phone at the barbecue.” 

“Smartphones and social media have eroded people’s values, they’re more concerned with it than they are their own family.” 

“Okay, okay, I get it; the convent have a landline or Satan manage to get through that too?” His expression hardens, unimpressed by her quip, though she can’t help but smile. After a moment, he sighs. 

“There is a landline available there, but it’s typically reserved for church matters. If you wish to check on her, visiting and writing letters would be ideal.” 

“Got it, I’ll keep that in mind,” she moves from her spot against the church exterior, “thanks again, Joseph. I’ll talk to you, later.” 

“Have a nice night, Deputy.” 

“You too.” 

Dahlia stubs out her cigarette once she’s outside the compound’s gates, climbing onto her motorcycle. She didn’t realize how isolated Cassie might be there, if she’s not even allowed to call her friend. It just doesn’t sit right. But, Joseph’s far from the only old religious man to claim technology is bad. And if Cassie is living with them, it’s natural to expect her to follow the same guidelines as everyone else. It was already asking a lot for them to house her, it’d be unthinkable to expect special treatment as well. 

The trailer park is far calmer when she rides through, damage already done, Dahlia sighs at the sight of all the havoc they caused. It’s already well past midnight, but her night is far from done. There’s glass to be cleaned up and windows to be covered until she can get supplies to fix them properly. She could care less about the spray paint and if needed she can sleep through the chill, but she’d at least like to not sleep on broken glass. 

She’s parked and locked up her bike, walking up her porch when she hears the crush of steps, someone clearing their throat. Liam stands, hands in his pockets and a mottle of bruises across his eye. His blues eyes look anywhere but her. 

“Dude, seriously, just go. I-”

“I’m sorry…,” he mumbles, clearing his throat again, searching for words, “I didn’t know she was in there, I really didn’t. Clyde said she left out and he hadn’t seen her come back, we thought the place was empty and-”

“And? You could have killed her, ignorance don’t cure third degree burns!”  She’s taken steps towards him, nearly yelling in his face now, she can see hurt in his face. He may not have meant to take a life, but in one dumb moment he nearly did and he damn well needs to know that. 

“I know, I know, I just…no one got hurt, she, she ain’t hurt, right?” 

“No, thank fuck, but that doesn’t make it okay? Even if you didn’t hurt you, you scared the fuck out of her, this was suppose to be a safe place for her and you destroyed that!” 

“I’m sorry, okay, I… I can’t fuckin’ say sorry enough and I mean it. I just we were drinking and thought we’d see if we could run ya out of here, it got out of hand.” 

“You hate cops, I get that, I do and quite frankly you wanna give me hell, have at it. There ain’t anything you can do to me that hasn’t already been done. But shit like that doesn’t just affect me, hell, you could of set the whole damn place on fire.” 

“Yeah, I, fuck I nearly pulled a Sharky.” 

“I’m…not sure what you mean by that, ‘cause last thing I saw that man do was…very different. But, uh, if you’re doing that too you should stop.” Her stomach churns at the reminder of Boshaw in his jeep, she really was hoping she repressed that. 

“I don’t even wanna know,” Liam shakes his head, “but I am sorry about Cassie…I’d like to apologize to her, if she’s around.” 

“Fat chance of that man, I found her another place to stay, she’s somewhere safe and far away from your ass.” The convent isn’t particularly far away, but he doesn’t need to know that. 

“I deserve that.” 

“Fuck yeah, you do.” 

“Well, I said my piece, I assume I’ll be seeing the inside of a cell tomorrow?” 

She chews her lip for a moment, he strikes her as genuine, in both his remorse and ignorance. He wasn’t trying to become a murderer, he only mean to run her out of the trailer park. And at the end of it all, Cassie is safe. 

“Nah man, it’ll  be fine, so long as you don’t pull this shit again. You do and I’ll be in jail for killing your ass.” 

“Gotcha…thanks…I think.” 

“Now, fuck off, I got a mess to clean. Unless you care enough to help?” 

“Hell no,  have fun, narc,” Liam scoffs at the idea and leaves, clear his remorse was only ever for Cassie’s sake. Asshole.  She watches him vanish into his own trailer before finally walking into her own to start on her night of work. 

That night and next day are monotonous, mess cleaned up and windows covered just as the sun starts to rise over the horizon. Muscles aching and a damp sweat clinging to her skin, she showers and catches a few hours of sleep. When she wakes up she’s off to the local hardware store and buying what she needs to fix the windows, as well as some damage done inside the trailer. 

The sun is setting on the next day by the time all the damage is attended to, well everything but the graffiti of PIG across the outside of the trailer. But, she doesn’t have the energy to wash it away. Lounging around her living room after another shower, Dahlia finds her mind drawn back to Cassie and The Seeds. 

No phone calls, only letter writing. It seems so unnecessarily archaic in the modern age, though she may mostly be whining because her handwriting is completely illegible. It’s too late to drop in on the convent, plus she doesn’t particularly want to move. After last night, she likes the idea of a lazy night. And with her long at time hard to predict workdays, it may not be possible to swing by for more than a moment until the weekend. 

She doesn’t have to write her letter, at least not by hand, she decides as she opens her laptop. She’ll type it up and print it out at the station, then she can send it like a proper letter, to appease Joseph’s hatred of tech. 

“Hey, Cassie, Deputy whatever (did I tell you my last name, legit can’t remember?) here. Joseph said you guys can’t like call? I guess? But you can get letters, so given my handwriting, typing it instead. I just wanted to check in on you, make sure you’re settling in. Maybe this weekend I can visit? I’ll treat you to lunch.”

That sounds alright, she decides, saving the typed letter. She drums her fingers against the table, searching for something else to maintain her attention. The Book of Joseph with her drawing tucked inside of it is still nearby, Joseph’s lecture of last night coming to mind. Maybe, she could write him a thank you letter? He seems like the kind of guy who’d appreciate that, she opens another document. 

“Dear Joseph,

That’s how you format a letter, right? Sorry, social media has “eroded” my soul and the art of letter writing is lost on my generation. That’s a joke, I hope it’s somewhat funny, if not sorry. My handwriting is atrocious, so I hope a typed letter still fits into your beliefs, since I’m trying here. I just wanted to thank you in some small way, despite some of our different beliefs, you’ve been incredibly kind to me and my friend. I read somewhere that drawings can be like gifts? So, I drew something for you. I hope it’s a nice gesture and not creepy, but it can’t be as creepy as the portrait in your book and creepy is kind of your thing, so. Also a joke, I promise I’m trying to be funny not mean… I’ll end this now, thanks again, Me, Cassie, and my eroded damned soul appreciate it. “

Dahlia saves the letter to Joseph, it’s messy and awkward, but so is she. She’ll print and mail them both out tomorrow. Hopefully, she won’t have to put her proper name on an envelope to send it. The idea of no one knowing her name is fun, she wants to play into it. The mysterious deputy who no one knows, sounds way cooler than she is. 

She stretches her arms out and puts her laptop aside, grabbing the Book of Joseph, the conversation with Joseph has renewed her interest in learning more about his beliefs. Even if they don’t align, even if she’ll never believe in god, the least she can do is try to understand. She made harsh initial judgments and still struggles with her past effecting her thoughts, making what could be nothing into red flags, this is a way to make amends. Even if Joseph isn’t able to see her efforts, it means something to her, growing as a person. 

“Not ice cream trucks, not social services cars, not even police patrols.

In any case. In these parts, people kept their noses out of other people's business, even when that business took place on a porch out in the open.

The father thrashed his arms furiously while the boy, young Joseph Seed stood with his head bowed, contrite and seemingly fixated on the floorboards. If he had looked up, he would have seen the kaleidoscopic colors of an old issue of Spiderman flashing by, alternating with the smooth black leather of his father's Bible and the ruddy face of the father himself. He would have seen the grey teeth-few and far between-of Old Man Seed, as the locals called him, or Old Man Seed behind his back, as Josephs big brother Jacob had snickered to him. Dental care was not a priority in the Seed household. The money was needed for other things. So, his father's teeth always reminded Joseph of the rocky crags that pirate ships washed up on in picture books at the library.”

She tries to see them, a young Joseph and Jacob on their porch. It’s both easy and difficult all at once. A part of her can easily see in her mind, the two young boys with freckled faces and bright blue eyes, one ginger and the other brunette. But, connecting that to who she knows to be Joseph and Jacob Seed is more difficult. It’s always weird to imagine old people when they were young, old to her she should specify.  To imagine the mountain that is Jacob Seed as a young boy, laughing behind his abusive father’s back. To see Joseph as a little boy reading comic books and pirate stories. The images seem so far removed from the tall intense older men she knows now. 

The life they’ve lived is one she knows well, no media beyond the bible, and beatings for breaking rules. But, her own abuser was more hidden, pretending to be a pillar of the community with his wonderful little church while beating her black and blue behind closed doors. Behind a church following service was the most brazen he ever became; it’s hard to imagine a man bold enough to beat his children in broad daylight on his porch. Though, she has no doubt what she reads is true. She’s seen Joseph’s back, his distaste for shirts making every scar a public display, she knows the lash marks well. Her own back marred with them as well. 

It makes her wonder, how they could be so different in their takeaways… Joseph if anything has turned to religion, leading his own church and group, taking issue with the sinfulness of modern media. Though, by no means an abuser, it’s hard to debate that he now shares qualities with his father, if only regarding religiosity. 

Dahlia once heard that people grow up to be their parents, particularly their same sex parents. Which is an all at once terrifying prospect for most people, but especially for people like her and the Seeds. The prospect she could be anything like her mother, watching passively as her own child is abused, bending to the will of a man and losing herself completely; is downright terrifying. Dahlia is determined to not let that happen, but it’s still a fear. She can see ways they match; both physically and in certain traits. Dahlia wonders if Joseph sees the way he matches his father and if those qualities scare him too. If he worries his faith has turned him into that same monster. She wonders too about Jacob, if his surliness is a part of that, if he sees any of his father in himself. 

“The priority in the Seed household, as everyone in the neighborhood knew, was cheap whiskey, which the father drank from dawn 'til dusk. The more whiskey that went in, the more Bible verses that came out -and the more often his children felt the switch. 

The cause of the paternal fury was simple: comics were forbidden in the home - comics and books, records, magazines, radio, and television. Only the Bible was allowed. 

Once, when the entire elementary school went to see Gone with the Wind at an old theatre in town, Joseph's father had leapt up in rage like a drunken jack-in-the-box, and before stunned teachers and students, launched into a rambling sermon condemning the sins of Hollywood, insisting this Babylon had long perverted the most fragile of minds and was responsible for the downfall of all of America, with Joseph under one arm and Jacob under the other, he stormed out of the room still hurling curses.”

Dahlia doesn’t have many blessings to count, but Monroe never dragged her from school with a sermon. Only making her withdraw and begin homeschooling the moment he learned the public school had the nerve to provide even shoddy sex education. But she’d take a quiet withdrawal from the system over being physically dragged out before everyone. 

“This time, when they arrived home, he beat Jacob only, because he was the eldest and thus responsible for his younger brother. At least the brothers had had time to see Atlanta burn. Thus, when Old Man Seed stood on the porch and began sliding off his belt, the child simply removed his T-shirt, folded it carefully, and bent over to offer his pale, delicate back to the worn-out strap of leather. 

Joseph's head was turned toward the well maintained- at least by local standards - house of a quiet, gentle widow. He considered it a blessing, if a small one. Facing the other way, he would have had to look at the other neighbor's house, which even by local standards was so run-down as to be hideous to the eye. When they were younger, the widow used to bake them cakes, probably out of pity for them. The children's mother wasn't exactly an impressive chef. She wasn't exactly a loving mother either. But the widow didn't bake much of anything anymore now that she was dying of cancer. Instead, she spent her days in her porch rocking chair, rain or shine, tottering gently. Jacob and Joseph argued over whether the groaning came from the wooden rocking chair or the old women.”

Dahlia closes the book, marking the page at that point, she can’t deny the intensity of the content and the impact it has on her. She can only stomach so much at a time, trauma too close to her own. Talks of a lackluster mother and the kindness of strangers only adding to it all. Maybe one day she’ll talk to Joseph about this, how he can bless those who hurt him in such a way,  how he has managed to be so open about it. It all seems to be a level of maturity she can’t imagine reaching, how much work and growth does it take to accomplish that?

She falls asleep that night thinking of just how much work she has left to do, just how far she has to go as a person. How long will it take her to be okay with her past? Thoughts fade to black as she succumbs to her heavy eyelids. 

The sun is bright and high in the bright blue sky, deceptively cherry for what her and Pratt are being called out to. Despite shifting opinions on Joseph, she can’t deny that the statue still creeps her the fuck out. As they drive further upward, the sheer scale of the cement monument takes her breath away. How much time and work went into that? Joseph doesn’t seem to have an ego, but to an outsider this downright makes him look like a narcissist. They don’t go fully up the mountain, where the trail forms stone circular steps and rings around the base of the statue. From where they park, she can see gazebos with flowers woven into them that line the open space around it. 

There’s a small crowd waiting for them at the base of the mountainside the statue is built on, a section of it just beneath the stone Joseph’s hand is carved slightly down. Ledges with spots to grapple along comes down to the ground. The statue blocks out the sun when they stand beneath it, the visage of Joseph towering over them like a kaiju is both terrifying and hilarious to the young deputy. 

The ambulance is already there, body bag being brought inside of it, sparing the deputies from seeing what remained of the person after they jumped. Rocky ground where the man would have hit is painted with a white Eden’s Gate symbol, blood now staining the dark rock and white paint. 

Faith and a few Eden’s Gate members are nearby. The youngest Seed sits on a stone, adorned in one of her delicate white dresses, her blonde hair pulls back in a soft ponytail today. Her feet are still bare, as if someone’s blood isn’t mere inches from her, as if a body bag isn’t being rolled into an ambulance. Faith leans back on her hands, humming softly, kicking her feet gently in tune to her little song. Does this even faze her?

“Not much to do here,” the EMT tells Pratt and Dahlia, “another suicide, guy hit his head off the cliff before he even reached the ground, dead on arrival.” 

“This happen a lot?” Dahlia asks, looking between Pratt and the EMT. They talked as if this happens every day. 

“Kinda, “ Pratt admits, “I mean, it’s easy to access and tall as fuck, people have been jumping off to die since the peggies finished building it.” 

“Hope County’s version of The Golden Gate Bridge.” 

“That’s…fucked.” 

“We gotta get to the morgue, call the next of kin, don’t know if there’s much else for you all to handle.” 

“Alright, thanks for the help.” 

Pratt and Dahlia wave off the EMT as the ambulance drives away; leaving the deputies with Faith and the Eden’s Gate members. It’s only natural to ask the owners of the statue a few questions, if they saw or heard anything. Faith seems to know this, given her soft smile as she waits for them, this really must be a normal occurrence. 

“Hello, deputies,” she greets them as they wander off, “it’s a shame really, that a symbol of hope is used by the hopeless to end their own suffering.” 

“I’m sure your heart is breaking, but, don’t suppose there’s any chance you saw anything?’ 

“No, I’m afraid no one was here this morning or late last night.” 

“Of course,” Pratt says, more annoyed than anything and if this is the typical, Dahlia can understand why. There’s not much they can really do, it’s a tragedy, but unless there was another party involved it’s not really a police matter. 

But, Dahlia wonders why the statue is so enticing a spot for suicide? It’s tall of course, the fall is a certain death. But, there are so many bridges around as well, not that she’s in that mental state at the moment but she imagines falling into water to die would be more enticing than hitting rock. And it’s odd as well, that the impact spot is marked with their symbol.

“Why is the ground painted?” 

“Hmm?” Faith hums out an inquisitive noise, blinking at the deputy’s sudden question. 

“The ground here, your church symbol is on it, I was just wondering why? Doesn’t seem like you can or would do much in this exact spot?” 

Dahlia’s reminded of a bible passage, one of many she recalls from her childhood. The story of Satan trying to tempt Jesus to jump from a high cliff in Jerusalem, that if he’s truly the child of god he’d be safe, to give a leap of faith. It sticks in the back of her mind, nagging at her, surely that wouldn’t be a thing? 

“Oh, I know it’s silly, but we like to put our symbol of hope and faith wherever we can, even in the smallest of places.” 

“Uh, this isn’t like a thing, is it?” Dahlia asks before she can stop herself. 

“Rook,” Pratt scolds her for the accusatory question. But Faith giggles. 

“You really have a vivid imagination, don’t you, Rook? I don’t imagine we’d keep many members if we were pushing them off a statue.” 

“Yeah, sorry,” that was dumb, Dahlia realizes the second she hears it out loud, “I think I’ve been watching too many horror movies.” 

“Next, you’ll be accusing us of drugging our members,” Faith says, giggling with a soft smile on her face and Dahlia laughs along, yeah, she’s being ridiculous. 

“Okay, well with that out of the way, we’ll get out of your hair,” Pratt speaks up, ready to go back to the station, not that there was much for them to do. 

“Uh, actually, I did wanna ask you something, real quick, about Cassie,” Dahlia pipes up, before they leave. Pratt raises an eyebrow, looking at Dahlia. 

“She’s settling in really well, she already feels like a part of the family, I assure you.” Faith squeezes Dahlia’s shoulder, warm in it’s reassurance. 

“Thanks, I’m hoping I can visit before too long.” 

“Oh, that’d be wonderful!” Faith captures both of Dahlia’s hands this time, grinning and stepping into the deputy’s personal space. Her and Joseph are both so touchy, it catches her off guard. 

“Well, it’s been nice talking to you Faith, but we really need to be headed back now, c’mon, Rook.” 

“Coming,” Dahlia calls out following behind a fast walking Pratt, one final wave goodbye to Faith. 

Dahlia is fastening her seat belt in the cruiser, Pratt starting up the engine and taking them back down that winding road. There’s a palpable tension that eases with every step away from that statue. Whoever at Eden’s Gate approved it is ridiculous. 

“Didn’t know you and Faith were so close.” 

“We get along alright, her and Joseph helped me out this weekend.” 

“What, you ditch the barbecue to hang out with peggies?” 

“No,” she rolls her eyes, “my friend Cassie was staying with me, some shit happened at the Moonflower, they offered to help her out.” 

“Since when do you have friends?” 

“Hahaha, hilarious. Look, it’s not like I planned for shit to go sideways, why do you even care?” 

“I don’t.” 

“Sure seems like you do.” 

“I don’t, you wanna run around with peggies, that’s your business, but it’s not gonna do you any favors around here.” 

“Oh no, are the popular girls not gonna like me if I sit with the peggies?” Dahlia says with mock worry, pressing her hand to her chest. What kind of high school bullshit is this?

“Shut up, I’m fuckin’ serious, the only people who like peggies are peggies. Since when do you like that shit anyway?”

“I don’t like it, I’m not into religion, you know that. Just, I don’t know, doesn’t mean they aren’t chill.” 

“Eden’s Gate is not fuckin’ chill, they’re weird and a pain in the ass.” 

“They’re definitely weird, you know social media has eroded my soul?”  

“What they find out you shared John’s shitty commercial on Twitter?” 

“Huh, no? How’d you know that?” Dahlia’s careful to keep herself hard to identify online, her Twitter has no name, job, or location. Though, unless Eden’s Gate is broadcasting their cheesy crap all over the nation, that’d be easy for a Hope County Native too figure out. 

“Petunia’s your icon on there.” 

“I didn’t realize you could tell the difference in opossums.” In Dahlia’s defense, Petunia looked adorable eating her lunch that day and again, she assumed anyone would just think it was a random opossum picture. 

“I know Petunia when I see her, give me some credit,” he rolls his eyes, “you know John’s gonna kill you if he does find out.” 

“Well, it’s a damn good thing Eden’s Gate doesn’t use social media then.” 

“Ah, yes, because as we all know no one ever disobeys their religion. I for one am still a picture perfect altar boy.” 

“Loo-you’re Catholic?” The realization hits her and she looks bewildered at her partner’s profile. Granted, she rarely thinks about anyone’s religion, but for Pratt it seems all the more confusing. He hardly seems religious by any standard. 

“I was raised Catholic,” he specifies and she nods her head, “Joey was too.” 

“Neither of you are anymore?” 

“I really can’t be bothered to give a fuck about it anymore, it is what it is, pretty sure Joey completely gave up on any of it.” 

“There’s not a lot of practicing Catholics in this area, is there?” She’s pretty sure Montana is mostly protestants. 

“No, the church in Falls End is Hope’s Catholic church, and it’s always been small. Me and Joey were damn near the only kids even.” 

Dahlia can’t help but smile, thinking of Hudson and Pratt as kids. She always had the feeling they’d known each other for a long while, both talking about Hope County like they’ve been here all their lives. Hudson is a little older, but not much, so it just makes sense that in this small a place they’d known each other as children. 

“How long have you guys known each other?”  

“We playing fifty questions or something?” 

“I’m curious!” 

“No, your turn asshole. You wanna grill me on religion and shit, you get it back.” 

“You already know how I feel about religion.” 

“I know you didn’t wanna go to church and were a weirdo about it, that’s it.” 

“Uhh,” she breathes, he’s right that it’s only fair to answer the same questions he answered for her, “my actual dad was Catholic, my mom  was Jewish, then she remarried a fundie Preacher, Pentecostal, so that’s how I was raised, unfortunately.” 

“So, you were zigzagged all over as far as that goes.” 

“Eh, I mean, before she remarried, neither my mother or dad were like devout or felt they had to raise me a certain way. Like, I think I vaguely remember getting both Christmas and Hannukah when I was three?”  She tries to pull up the fuzzy memory of when her mother, back when she was a true mother, helped her light a menorah and her dad hoisted her up to put a star on a modest Christmas tree. 

“You believe in anything nowadays.” 

“I consider myself an atheist at best.” 

“At worst?” 

“Well, if god does exist, he’s an asshole and I’d like to break his nose.” 

That gets a laugh out of Pratt and Dahlia grins, she knows it sounds silly, but it’s true. How she genuinely feels, she doesn’t think anyone is watching over them, no singular or multiple gods, but if any creator can watch idly by as everyone suffers… Not someone she’d want to be worshipping, quite frankly.  

The day winds down with little else for the deputies to do. Beyond the station windows the sky starts to turn pink, sun setting on another workday. Dahlia is fiddling with her phone, walking out of the station. 

“You coming to The Spread Eagle tonight,” Hudson asks her, “I know you haven’t really been since that asshole gave you a hard time.” 

“Oh uh, yeah, I could tag along.” Dahlia scratches at the back of her neck, feeling the heat climb up her face. She can see concern in Hudson’s olive-green eyes, which isn’t helping the blush across the young deputy’s face. 

“C’mon then, probie,” Pratt calls out, giving Dahlia a playful smack on the shoulder as he passes by. 

It’s the usual sight as Stray walks into The Spread Eagle; rock-folk music on the Jukebox tonight, couples dancing or sharing drinks, workers in flannels and dirty boots grabbing a drink after a long day. They slide into their usual seats, the youngest deputy between her two superiors, there’s a warmth to the  low lights and wood interior. Mary May’s soft smile greeting them as she serves the rest of the patrons. 

“I don't care if it rains!

Let's all go to the bar!

I don't care if there's a hurricane!

Let's all go to the bar!”

“I’ve been stuck on desk duty all day,” Hudson speaks over the music, starting the evening conversation with a groan, “so please tell me you two had something interesting happen.” 

“Suicide out at Joseph’s statue, that’s about it.” Dahlia shrugs, nothing else really of note. 

“Ugh, if I was near that statue I’d kill myself too.” 

“It gives my heebie jeebies the heebie jeebies, not gonna lie.” 

“Really, Rook, but Joseph’s your new best friend, remember?” Pratt cuts in to taunt the Junior Deputy.

“I have a finger for you.”

“You aren’t buddying up with the Seeds, are you deputy?” Mary May’s voice rings out as she sets drinks and food in front of the three officers, they hadn’t even ordered yet. Dahlia’s seen her do it with Hudson and Pratt, knowing the two deputy’s order inherently after years of routine. But it’s the first time she’s done it for Dahlia, knowing the youngest deputy’s favorite burger and soda. It’s nice and she’d love to spend a moment appreciating the coziness of it, but the weight of the bartender’s question hangs in the air. 

“No,” Dahlia assures her, though a part of her feels guilty, as if she’s compromising loyalties, “they helped me and a friend out, that’s all.” 

“Eden’s Gate doesn’t help anyone without expecting something in return, I know you’re new around here, deputy, but you need to be careful around them. They’ll do anything to have another cop wrapped around their finger.” 

“Woah woah,” Dahlia holds her hands up in mock surrender, “it was just a little favor, nothing big I promise.” 

“You don’t get it, that fami-“ 

“I think Merle is trying to flag you down for another beer,” Pratt interjects, saving Dahlia from the rest of the lecture. 

“Yeah, uh, just be careful, deputy.”  With that Mary May leaves them to serve Merle, some man with a mullet, another beer. 

“Sorry about that,” Pratt says, “forgot how weird she gets about the Seeds.” 

“Can’t blame her for it though, John Seed’s had it out for her family since they came here.” 

“I would like to change the subject.” 

“Pfft,” Pratt stifles a laugh at her blunt declaration, “alright, we can do that.” 

“Well, okay, how’d your break go?” 

“Mostly boring, other than when Pratt took me flying.” 

“You took her up in the helicopter?” Hudson asks, raising an eyebrow at the male deputy over Dahlia’s shoulder. 

“Don’t look at me like that.” 

“You seriously pulled that move on her?” 

“Shut up.” 

“Move?” 

“Pratt has a habit of bringing girls up in the helicopter, don’t you?” 

“I plead the fifth.” 

“Oh, uh, I don’t know it was fun, though.” Dahlia shrugs, she doesn’t really care if he brings other people up in the helicopter. She’s not really sure how it’s relevant or what Hudson means by it being a move; she had fun with her friend and he cheered her up. 

“Hear that, Joey, it was fun. Don’t put weird ideas in Rookie’s head. “

“Oh yeah, blame me.” 

“So, anything interesting happen at the station while I was gone?” 

“Well,” Hudson smirks, mischief in her eyes as she glances at Pratt again. 

“She doesn’t need to know about that.” 

“I think she does, the day after you went on leave-”

“I’d like to change the subject,” Pratt cuts Hudson off, mimicking Dahlia from earlier. 

“I don’t even know what the subject is yet!” The youngest deputy objects, laughing. 

“Well, a certain someone’s mom felt the need to come down to the station and let Whitehorse know just how wrong he is to put her precious son in harm’s way.” 

“Oh my god,” Dahlia says, unable to resist smiling, while Pratt’s buried his head in his hands, “your mom came to the station?” 

“Yes, yes, laugh it up.” 

“You call me a child and you have your mommy checking in on you at work?” 

“I didn’t invite her!” 

Pratt’s face is flushed bright red while Hudson and Dahlia laugh at his expense, but despite the embarrassing aspect, Dahlia can’t help but think it’s a little endearing. His mom must really love him. 

“She worry about you a lot?” Dahlia asks, core aching from laughing.

“Ugh, that’s a fuckin’ understatement.” 

 “Mama Pratt’s always been a little too worried about her baby boy,” Hudson taunts, reaching over the table to pinch at Pratt’s cheek, only for him to smack her hands away. 

“I’m sure that went over great when you went into law enforcement.” 

“She still gets furious at Whitehorse for putting us in danger.” 

“Us?” 

“She wasn’t very happy about me becoming a cop either,” Hudson admits and that makes sense, given what Pratt’s told Dahlia about them being close as kids, surely she’d be close to his mother. 

“And if she meets you, she’ll be in Whitehorse’s ear again.” 

“Huh?” 

“I can hear it now, ‘how could you put that little girl in danger, what’s wrong with you?’” Hudson tries her best to mimic Pratt’s mother, grinning at the ridiculousness of it, and despite herself…the idea of his mom doting on her the way she would Hudson. As if Dahlia could be as close to either of them, even if the idea of being seen as a vulnerable little girl is a bit patronizing. 

“Not gonna lie, I really want to meet your mom now.” 

“No.” 

“C’mon!” 

“No, not in a million years, I get enough hell from Joey and Beau, I don’t need it from you too.” 

Their conversation continues late into the evening as it so often does, just a few hours shy of staying until closing, early mornings the only thing that keeps them from staying later. Around the same time as they have every other night, they leave and say their goodbyes. Pratt and Hudson heading back to the small set of apartment housing that resides in the little town, while the youngest deputy rides back to the trailer park. 

She stops at the mailboxes, in the registration building, rows of them with their lot numbers associated with them. The printed letters for Cassie and Joseph heavy in her pocket. A part of her does feel guilty, mostly to Mary May, but it’s not as if they’re close friends and the bartender can’t expect Dahlia to avoid an entire family because of hearsay. And it’s not as if she’s joining up or spending every moment with them.  She shakes her head, stupid feelings, it’s not as if she has to choose sides. She can be thankful for the Seed’s help and still get along with Mary May. She tucks the letters inside her mailbox to be sent out then heads into her trailer, throwing herself down on her couch to sleep for the night. 

Hands on her, groping and prodding on Dahlia’s bare body. She screams and fights against them, unable to see whom they belong to, a mystery hidden by the logic of a dream. They feel different, but she sees no difference, each pair ink black as if monsters reaching from the void to defile her. They claw and grab; scratching over her ribs, locking fingers around her throat, squeezing at her thighs, and pressing over her mouth. The hands are everywhere and they smear black across her skin, smears and filth, reminders of their violation. They stain her skin, mark her flesh, and leave the aftermath of their violence on her body. 

And she fights. She kicks and she pulls, but it only spurs them to grab her more. Dahlia lashes out at the void that touches her, but it does not retreat. She bites at the ink fingers that push into her tongue, but the digits only press deeper in, sliding into her throat. 

She can’t be sure if she breaks away or they let her go, but their touch is gone, Dahlia dropping to her knees as if they were the only thing supporting her. Inky black slick across her skin where they touched her, heavy even on her tongue, finger prints within them. 

And she wretches as flowers bloom from the stains they’d left on her. Small blue flowers blossom forth bursting through the flesh of her tongue, sprouting from her throat and gagging her, soft petals falling from her lips. Those same vibrant blue flowers burst forth from her throat where she was choked. 

Red flowers bloom out from the flesh of her ribs, stacked blossoms along a single stem cutting through the tender skin, like blades. They follow the curve of the bones within her, just long beneath her breast where rough hands had torn at her skin. 

White petals, the most familiar as they recur so often and are a constant sight within the county. They grow through the plush of her thighs, not even blood or black tarnishing them as they push through her skin. They wind and weave as they come through like petal ropes around her . 

And her heart staggers a beat as a sunflower grows within it, then through her chest, a vivid yellow. Her eye burns, a pressure behind it as another great yellow bloom grows behind it, piercing the fragile membrane, blood falling from her socket, vision in the eye obscured from the flower that’s taken it’s place. 

She’s awash of yellows, blues, whites, and reds. Turned into a cruel art piece, body aching as her skin is open, her lungs choked, her heart stuttering to beat, and body protesting in agony. 

And she snaps awake, not jolting from her couch but twisting with a heavy cough, phantom tickles within her throat. She gags on something that doesn’t exist, heartbeat thundering and lungs burning. Dahlia takes a moment to gather herself, a cold sweat still clinging to her skin. Her clock informs her it’s four in the morning. 

She pushes back the hair that’s fallen into her face and lights up a cigarette, inhaling nicotine to ease her shaky body and frayed nerves. These dreams have only been getting more frequent and they’re starting to fuck with her. She can’t live with having a heart attack every other night and barely getting sleep. 

Once she’s filled her lungs with smoke, let the burning cigarette nearly singe her fingers before she tosses it out. Dahlia throws on the lights, blinking through the way it blinds her after so long of darkness, but she ignores the sleep heavy in her eyes as she grabs her drawing pad, sitting at her coffee table on the floor letting her mind lead her hand. 

Sunflowers she knows, the flower iconic enough in identity for her to know it and with the white flowers being so around the county, she could easily be able to figure out what they are. She thinks they’re called moonflowers, given the name of the trailer park and that a field of them surround them. But she sketches them out, along with the other flowers she saw. Four types of flowers on the page. She needs to get them on paper while they’re fresh in her mind. And then in the crux of them all, she draws out the layered ones from her previous dreams. 

She plans on looking them up, flowers have significance and meaning, she’s heard that before that people can plan bouquets to communicate messages. She’s never cared about flowers in her entire life, so she has no idea why on earth they’d such a recurring theme in her dreams be. 

Dahlia feels more relaxed now that she’s smoked and gotten the images of the flowers on paper. She’ll search for her answers later, after she’s gotten more sleep. Nerves and body relaxed, she curls back up on her couch, letting herself fall into a dreamless sleep. 

It’s a few hours past noon the next day, a slow day of just tickets, the young deputy’s head is against her own seatbelt. Her eyes are starting to close despite the amount of energy drinks she’s consumed. She managed to salvage a few hours of restful sleep, but not nearly enough to keep her awake through an already boring day.  Her eyelids are impossibly heavy, each blink growing longer and longer. 

“Rook!” 

“I’m awake!” Dahlia says with a jolt, Pratt’s voice and a shake of her shoulder waking her back up. 

“Are you?” Pratt asks while laughing and she pinches at the bridge of her nose, a headache coming on. 

“I didn’t sleep well last night.” 

“What were doing?” 

“Wasn’t doing nothing; just bad dream,” she tells him, shrugging. 

“Units near the Orchard please respond,” Nancy from dispatch’s voice crackles over their radio, they’re still in the Valley and maybe five minutes from the giant orchard.

“Deputy Pratt responding.”

“Debbie and Doug called in a robbery, suspect has fled the scene, but they’re still requesting an officer to file a report.” 

“We’ll be there shortly,” he hangs up the receiver, “wake up, Rookie, we have to actually work today.” 

“Maybe.” 

“Maybe,” he admits, acknowledging that it’ll likely just be an hour of talking, writing down a report, and then leaving. 

They drive past the pumpkin farm, Dahlia unable to resist smiling when she sees Boomer playing with his owners, weaving through the gourds. She’s reminded of her first day, stopping to pet the dog to dispel her own nerves. Then the apple trees filter in, bright red and shining in the light. Each tree is overflowing, a few crates out fill with the fruit, apples that have fallen on the ground. 

Pratt pulls up to the orchard’s packing facility past the market stall that advertises cider tasting. There’s a man and woman standing in front of the large open packing facility; the building painted red with green roofing, the open doors showing the crates and machines. The smell of crisp apples hits Dahlia as she gets out of the cruiser, mixing with the fresh air, she feels more awake than she was before. Rarely, but sometimes, the beauty of the county manages to lift her spirits. 

“What’s going on?” Pratt asks the couple. 

“Someone,” Debbie gives a pointed look at her husband Doug, arms crossed, “left the office key in the stall again, next thing we know, someone cleared out our safe.” 

“Hey, don’t blame me.” 

“Well who the fuck am I suppose to blame?” 

“That fuckin’ church would be a goddamn start.” 

The tension is palpable as the couple argues, body language tight and wrought with frustration. Stray can’t tell if Debbie is about to cry or scream, maybe both. Doug looks as if he’d like to rip the earth up and bury himself beneath it. 

“Everybody calm down, did anyone see anything suspicious?” 

“John fuckin’ Seed and his band of goons were here earlier, no one saw him grab the key, but no one else would have. Son of a bitch has it out for us.” 

“Alright, you wanna take me back to the office, I’ll have a look around,” Pratt asks Doug. 

“Yeah, no problem.” 

“You mind staying out here and talking to me, Debbie?” Dahlia offers, she’s not the most comforting person in the world, but the older woman clearly needs to get some stuff off her chest. 

“Yeah, I can do that.” 

Doug and Pratt go back to the office within the packing facility, leaving Dahlia alone with Debbie. 

“Lets find a place to sit down and just breathe for a minute, alright?” 

“Yeah, that sounds good,” Debbie agree and Dahlia places what she hopes to be a comforting hand on the woman’s back, guiding her into the market stall where she saw benches. 

She settles in across from Debbie, who wrings her hands together. 

“No pressure and you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to, but if you need an ear, I’m willing to listen.” 

“Don’t even know where to start, ever since John Seed set his sights on the orchard, it’s been a nightmare.” 

“He been making life hard for you?” 

“That’s the understatement of the god damn century, that church has been buying up properties since they got here. The railyard, the old summer camp, the veterans center, the conservatory; list goes on…I use to wonder why everyone sold out to them, but I fuckin’ get it now.” 

“They’re persistent?” 

“They’re fucking heartless. Me and Doug built this place from the ground up; John Seed made an offer and we said no. Next thing we know; roads are blocked so our shipments can’t go out, they buy up the fertilizer plant and we can’t use it to help the new crops, cargo trucks are toting away product in the dead of night, and now this shit. We’ve been hemorrhaging cash ever since he set his sights on us. Got an attorney involved and all they did was charge us.”

“I’m so fucking sorry, I can’t even imagine how hard this is for you.” 

“We had a good year for crops, thought we’d break even if nothing else, then what little we got was taken. I can’t even pay my god damn workers, we’ve had to let go of folks who’ve been here for years because they couldn’t keep working for free cider.” 

The woman lets out a breath, body deflating as she finally gets everything off her chest, but her blue eyes are brimming with tears. Dahlia offers her a tissue from her pocket, not sure what else she can do, watching the woman dab at her eyes. Despite the help Joseph and his church has given to Dahlia and Cassie, this sort of behavior can’t be enabled. Theodore was stealing booze from The Spread Eagle, on the order of John Seed, when she first came here. Lonny hasn’t exactly been shy about insinuating he should just be allowed to take her motorcycle. So, it’s not far fetched to imagine them getting greedy. As ironic as it is to attach a sin to church goers. 

“They can’t do that shit.” 

“But they do, no evidence though, nothing can be done. If the cops even bother to show up, no offense, but a lot of your station ain’t doing their fucking jobs.” 

“No offense taken, I’m not gonna sit here and tell you every cops here for the right reasons. But, uh, if there’s something I can do to help, I want to.” 

“Short of a miracle, I don’t think there’s much we can do. Take John’s next offer, try to fuckin’ survive.” 

“There has to be a way for you guys to keep the orchard,” Dahlia murmurs more to herself than Debbie, at the end of it all the young deputy doesn’t have a dog in the fight. But, her heart does break for the couple and she wants to find some way to help. 

“I’m willing to try anything at this point.” 

“Ever think of doing any kind of apple festival or something? I mean people do that, sounds nicer than one for testicles.” 

“Pssh,” she laughs a little at the way Dahlia wrinkles her nose, “it’d take a lot of work to get something like that set up.” 

“I mean, do you really think the rest of the county won’t come together to help, you can do stands, have food, games, charge some money. I mean, it’s an idea.”

“We got stands for the market, don’t know if I can cook for a whole county though, if they even show.” 

“Do you think Casey or Chad would help out?” Dahlia brings up the cooks from the Spread Eagle and Grill Steak. Small communities are suppose to come together in times of crisis, that’s the hope at least. Lloyd always told her that’s what he loved about Hope County and Reinette, everyone’s willing to pitch in. 

“Maybe… Casey knows the runners of the Testy Festy too, he could help up get vendors and games set up, I…ya think we can actually do this?” 

“Way I see it, best case scenario, it gets you through the rough spot, sticks it to John Seed, and you could do it every year for an income boost. Worst case scenario, you go down swinging, having some fun,  and with friends by your side,” Dahlia tells her honestly with a shrug, she doesn’t want to give false hope, but even in worst case scenario, it’s worth it to go down swinging. 

“That’s,” she smiles, tears clearing, she looks hopeful finally, “that’s hard to argue with, you gonna help?”

“Of course, I can see about talking to Casey tonight even.” 

“Deb?” Doug’s voice calls out and the women leave the market stall, Doug and Pratt have come back from the office Pratt raises an eyebrow, eye drifting from the now happy Debbie, to Dahlia. Silently asking her what the hell happened. 

“There wasn’t anything that can pin it on anyone, no security footage or prints, sorry,” Pratt tells her. 

“I figured… Doug, me and Deputy….” she searches for Dahlia’s name only to realize she doesn’t know it, “…her have been talking, what do you think about throwing together a festival?” 

“A festival?” 

“Yeah, we could get the county together, might just be what saves this place. I…just…I don’t wanna give up yet. She said she’d help, I think, I think we can do this.” 

“We’d need to move fast and a festival take a lot of time to set up.” 

“I mean, we get enough people on board, I can’t see why we can have it ready to go by, next Friday, the 10th?” Dahlia cuts in to help, that’d give them a little over a week, short notice but not impossible. 

“You planning on helping?” 

“Of course,”Dahlia beams, but no reason she can’t volunteer some more help, she throws an arm over Pratt’s shoulder, “we’d both be happy to help anyway we can.” 

“What?” Pratt asks blankly and she just gives him a friendly smack on the chest, if he can force her into a church barbecue, she can damn well rope him into helping a local business. 

“Well then, I think next Friday could work,” Doug admits. 

“We could hold it Friday, Saturday, and Sunday. An entire weekend for everyone to come together, have some fun and maybe save this place,” Debbie tells him, smiling wide.

“Okay, lets do it.” 

“Hell yeah.” Dahlia grins, the formerly frustrated and desperate couple are now smiling bright as can be. Warmth is burning in the rookie deputy’s chest, proud that she can help them get those smiles back. 

“Yeah…well, guess I can help,” Pratt admits, still glaring at Dahlia in his peripheral, she’s just amazed he hasn’t pushed her off of him yet. 

“I’ll try to talk to Casey tonight, if the bars too busy, I’ll try tomorrow. Then I’ll get in touch with Chad, ask around about music, games, anything we could need.”

“Gotta find a way to advertise it.” 

“I’ll figure it out,” Dahlia tells them, confident she can put it together, “you guys worry about getting the orchard set up, getting food, cider, prices, and all that figured out. And if you need anything just call down to the station and ask for Rook.” 

“Thank you, seriously, both of you.” 

“No problem,” Pratt says, though there’s a sigh in his voice, “our probie here just loves to help people.” 

“Well, it is my job, speaking of which, you said the church is blocking the roads?” 

“Yeah, our trucks can’t even get a shipment out.” 

“Do you know where they’re set up?” 

“Yeah, the road that leads from Holland valley out to Missoula, if you follow it far enough, why?” 

“Public roads legally can’t be blocked,” Pratt explains for her. 

“So, we’re gonna pay them a quick visit.” 

“Thanks again, we’ll be in touch, Deputy.” 

They wave off the couple, saying their goodbyes as they climb back into the cruiser. A beat of silence passes without Pratt starting the engine. 

“What the fuck, Rook?” 

“What?” 

“You know your getting yourself into deep shit, right? Pissing off the church right after they helped you out?” 

“Them helping me out ain’t a free pass to do whatever they want. I can get along with someone and still hold them accountable for their bullshit. They have no right trying to railroad Debbie and Doug like that.” 

“And you have no right dragging me into it.” 

“You volunteered me for the fuckin’ church barbecue.” 

“That’s different.” 

“How?” 

“We were off the clock, not work hours.” 

“What about trying to pressure me into going to the Rye barbecue, while at Redlers, technically on the clock.” 

“That was also different.” 

“How?” 

“’Cause you’re the rookie and I’m allowed to be mean to you.” 

“No, that is not how that works!” 

“Is too, the entire point of hiring rookie cops is to hassle them, you don’t get to hassle back.” 

“Well, too bad, fucker we’re throwing an apple festival.” 

“Jesus christ.” 

“It’ll be fun.” 

“It’ll be a pain in my ass,” he says, grumbling as he starts the engine, taking off out of the orchard. 

Dahlia sticks her tongue out at him as they wind through the roads. Apple trees become the usual firs and pines, road signs starting to indicate they’re in route to Missoula. The young deputy watches the woods pass by, where the trees meet the blue sky, farmland occasionally breaking the landscape with cows meandering around. 

It’s not long before they come to a stop and sure enough, large slabs of concrete are across the roadway. White trucks bearing the Eden’s Gate symbol are slotted behind them, black flags with the symbol in white stream from the back, and sturdier white vans are nearby as well. Members of the church are gathered there, woman with overgrown hair and men with hairy faces, a few she recognizes. All looking at the stopped cruiser with some measure of anger or worry. 

“Hey, deputy,” it’s Waylon who greets Dahlia, smiling at her, “what seems to be the issue?” 

“Your blocking public roads,” Pratt is the one to answer. 

“Oh, see the thing if, the church is having some property worked on nearby. So, we really can’t have anyone driving through here, it’s temporary of course.” 

“You can’t do that, though,” Dahlia explains, “if you need to fence off private property, you need to do it along the property line. Unless you have permission from the state, you cannot block public road access.” 

“Deputy please, surely you understand.” 

“Waylon,” she puts a hand on his shoulder, “you know we get along and I don’t have anything against the church, but blocking the road affects everyone else. If you really need roads blocked off, you need to contact the right people and get permits first, okay?” 

“Understood.” 

“Okay, then, just clear out and everything will be fine.” 

He doesn’t seem happy, none of the church members do, but that’s the rules. She can’t even understand why’d they ever need to block the roads, if she didn’t know any better she’d think they were trying to keep people from leaving. 

They drive the trucks and vans away; Dahlia and Pratt even helping move the concrete blockades off the road. Why do they even have those? 

There’s still a sour note in the air once the block is cleared and the deputies have pulled away. She hates this weird back and forth; the church helping her but then doing something that gives her reason to doubt them. Wanting to be their friend but needing to put her foot down; wanting them and both the people who hate them to like her. Torn between the two as well as her child; like an unfortunate child in the midst of their parent’s divorce and she’s being forced to choose one. 

It’s getting close to evening, when they pull up to the station to put in the report. The usual folks are in the bullpen, Hudson working at her computer with a mug of coffee and Brennan at his desk as well. The faces she’s come to know the best outside of Pratt. He plops himself down into his chair at his desk and Dahlia decides to grab another energy drink from the kitchen first.

She’s managed to rummage through the collection of tana cola bottle to find it, cracking it open with a yawn as she leaves the kitchen. 

“…it wouldn’t have been so bad if Rook didn’t volunteer me for some bullshit.” 

“Don’t be so fucking dramatic.” 

“Jesus fuck,” Pratt jolts in his chair, nearly toppling it over, “that’s it, we’re getting you a god damn bell!” 

“Didn’t know you were into that, Staci,” Brennan says with a snicker. 

“Shut up.” 

“Oh, please, no one’s buying it,” Hudson says, rolling her eyes. 

“There’s nothing to buy, Rook is an annoying shit, who just grabbed me and volunteered me for bullshit.” 

“You’re such a baby.” 

Dahlia reaches out and flicks his ear, laughing when Pratt grabs her hand, fingers intertwining as he tries to push her back. She brings her other hand up, trying to reach out and flick him with her other hand.  But he grabs it in the same way, the two pushing against each other, both grinning like children. She’s not even sure what the goal is and Pratt probably doesn’t either. But then his office chair wheels slide back from the force and she’s found a goal, pushing Pratt across the room. No particular reason for it other than the idea of watching him sail across the bullpen makes her giggle.  But he won’t let go of her hands enough that she can push him without him dragging her too. 

“The hell are you two doing?” Whitehorse’s voice booms out when he walks in to see the two deputies horsing around. 

“Being idiots.” 

“I don’t know, looks like flirting to me.” 

Hudson’s insult and Brennan’s teasing makes red flush up the two bickering deputy’s cheeks. They’re technically holding hands and leaning into each other’s personal space, Dahlia realizes. Pratt suddenly drops her hands, jolting away as if her skin has burnt his, and pushing his chair away from her. Nearly toppling over a trashcan in his haste. 

“Yeah why the hell you holding my hand, Rookie?”

“You grabbed my hand first, asshole!” 

“No, I didn’t.” 

“Yes, you did.” 

“You did.” 

“You absolutely did.” 

Hudson and Brennan agree with Dahlia, Pratt’s face going from pink to scarlet. Whitehorse rolls his eyes, no doubt questioning his hiring decisions. How any of them still have jobs is a mystery, except Hudson. 

“How’d things go at the orchard?” The sheriff asks, adjusting his cowboy hat. He really does look like such a stereotype. 

“We couldn’t find any evidence of who broke into the office, they grabbed the key, so I told Doug he should look into changing the locks and investing in some security cameras. They’re dead set on it being John or someone with the church though,” Pratt explains, rolling his chair back up to his desk. 

“You know it was,” Brennan scoff, “damn church is destroying the whole county.” 

“Now, now, you can’t go making accusations without evidence, I just hope Debbie and Doug can bounce back.” 

Dahlia doesn’t miss the roll of Brennan’s eyes and the sneer on his lips, he doesn’t like Eden’s Gate or Whitehorse’s attitude towards them it seems. She’s rarely seen the officer without a smile, but lips curled and leg bouncing, he seems a moment away from flipping the desk in front of him. 

“Well, if Rook’s plan works, they’ll do fine.” 

“Your plan?” Whitehorse looks at her with a raised eyebrow; her fellow deputies and Brennan all look at her expectantly as well. She scratches at the back of her neck, skin prickling at the attention. 

“Oh, uh…well, I figured they could do like an apple festival, be fun for the county and help raise some money for ‘em.” 

“That the plan you were bitching about, Pratt?” Brennan raises an eyebrow at him. 

“It’s a pain in the ass and the Seed family is gonna be pissed.” 

“So, apple pie and pissing off the Seeds, I’m fuckin’ sold,” Brennan sticks his fist out to Dahlia and she bumps her knuckles to his, grinning, “anything I can help with, just say the word.” 

“Seriously, see why can’t you be my partner?” 

“Hey, rude.” 

“’Cause we’d never get Pratt to stop whining about it.” 

“What the hell, you’re suppose to be on my side, Beau.” 

“I don’t remember agreeing to that.” 

“I’m willing to help out too if I can,” Hudson cuts in between the banter, eyes soft, “I still remember going apple picking there with my family, I don’t wanna see Doug and Debbie lose that place.” 

“Yeah…that place has a lot of memories for everyone,” Pratt admits, hazel eyes deepening with nostalgia. 

“Still remember the first year you came with us,” Hudson grins, “Mark tried to lift you up to grab an apple and you just started sobbing.” 

“Your brother was trying to kill me and I stand by that,” Pratt smiles as he pretends to defend himself. 

“When are Deb and Doug planning on having the festival?” Whitehorse asks Dahlia. 

“Aiming for the next Friday, the 10th, they wanna see if they can do it the whole weekend too.” 

“Lot of work to get done if that’s gonna happen.” 

“I know, I’m planning on talking to Casey as soon as I can. See if he’ll help cook and if there’s any testy festy supplies or vendors he can help with.” 

“Mary May has a live band that plays once a week, they might be willing to play,” Hudson offers. 

“Think they’d work cheap or free? I’d hate to stiff anyone and I’ll pay whatever I have too out of my own pocket, but the last thing we want is the festival costing more than it makes,” Dahlia explains, leaning against the wall as she talks it out. 

“If they’re not willing to work any or all of it, we could always talk to Wheaty too.” 

“Wheaty?” 

“Kid who lives up North,” Brennan points in the general North direction, “he’s been obsessed with starting a radio station for years, he’ll basically DJ anything for free just to show off his vinyl collection.” 

“That could work too.” 

“Addie would probably help with money for it, honestly, just throw some advertisements up for the Marina.” 

“Hell, if me and Staci ask her, she’d probably do it anyway,” Brennan gives a wide toothy smile. 

“Gross, but true.” 

“Didn’t Grace use to do those shooting competitions at fairs and shit, letting people pay to try and outshoot her?” 

“Yeah,” Hudson nods to Pratt’s suggestion, “she hates the attention, but if it’s for a good cause I’m sure she’d do it.” 

“I don’t think the Fowler brothers would bring Cheeseburger, since they gotta watch what he eats, but they might be willing to bring down some animals for people to see.” 

“Hell, if we could convince Rae Rae to bring Boomer; people will show up just get a picture of him.” 

“Pie eating contest would draw people in too.” 

“Lorna would probably make pasties for it if we asked.” 

Dahlia can’t help but grin at all the ideas and suggestions; a fire seemingly ignited in everyone. There’s a warmth in her chest and a swelling sense of pride that she could get everyone on board. The orchard means a lot to the county, not just Debbie and Doug. And she may actually be able to save it. 

“Woah woah, hold on now,” Whitehorse calls out and Dahlia stiffens, this technically isn’t police work, “is anyone writing all this down? Not gonna do anyone a lick of good if we forget something.” 

He smiles, blue eyes soft as Hudson grabs a piece of paper, writing down the ideas that’ve been said so far. Whitehorse is giving his stamp of approval and that pride in her chest only swells bigger, thumping against her ribs and making her smile widen. 

“Rook.” 

“Yes, sheriff?” 

“As long as you keep an ear to your radio, don’t see any reason you can’t work on some of this during work, alright?” 

“Yeah, absolutely.” 

“Good, Debbie and Doug deserve the best and we’re damn well gonna give it to ‘em, that’s an order.” 

The sheriff ruffles her hair before he leaves and her face hurts from smiling so much. She pulls up a chair to the desk, sitting with Hudson, Pratt, and Brennan as they keep working on ideas. All four stay past their shift hours; scribbling down all possible ideas, who they should reach out to and who should be the one to talk to them. Dahlia smiling the entire time as they talk late into the evening. 

[riceccakes]

Earth, Wind, and Coffee: Chapter Three Analysis

chapter one analysis | chapter two analysis

back again for another chapter analysis. i think ive been looking forward to this chapter the most, it’s where some big decisions were made!!! this analysis is a long one, i hope that’s all right! i kinda got carried away. so, let’s dive right in, shall we?

some fun stuff before we start!

chapter three was supposed to be the last chapter of the fic

idk if any of you were there when i first started writing this fic, but it was only going to be three chapters with a possible epilogue. however, everything changed when i finished the end of chapter two. (lil atla reference there for ya) (sorry i know that was bad, moving on). like i said in my last analysis, i had an idea of what i wanted to happen (the separation of korrasami) so that they could come back together. it was just a matter of what separates them. so, i’m not sure where i got the panic attack idea but once i did, the rest of the story changed. i realized i couldn’t quite possibly finish the story in one chapter so i split the ideas i had and decided on it being four chapters

now, this being said, maaaaajor changes were made in my story outline. most notably: korrasami was going to be a couple in this chapter

this was originally going to be a full fledged “they meet, they get to know each other, they fall in love, happily every after” but the thing was, i planned on treating their romance as korra’s recovery; that being with asami is what made korra better, that all she needed was a partner, someone to love, and that is not what i wanted to portray with this story. i’ve never been a fan of stories that give a character a love interest and all of sudden their problems are fixed and they’re completely happy, and here i was about to do just that. i knew i’d never respect myself if i continued down this narrative, and when chapter two ended with korra’s panic attack, i realized her growth needed better love and attention. so, i changed what happened and gave her some therapy

this change in the storyline also let me explore more of kuvopal !!! (is that their ship name?)

so, back to LOVE WITCH for a second (because that glorious fic really did steal my heart) not only did it make me love kuvira’s character more, it also got me into the kuvopal relationship! and yet again, i wanted my own go at it. with the original timeline, there was just no space for me to include the lil bread crumbs of their relationship. however, however, however; by splitting the ending between two chapters (and adding some stuff in between) i was able to lay some foundation for them, which im very happy about :)

into the chapter we go:

let’s talk about the meeting! the whole reason this fic came to be! i’ll start by saying i always knew the project was going to get pulled out from under asami. 1) because thats some angsty/hurt shit right there and im a sucker for writing angst 2) i didn’t feel like creating a whole ass presentation because knowing my ass i would’ve made a powerpoint about it so i had every detail down to the font asami used and 3) getting the presentation taken away from asami was a pivotal point in her character arc.

i actually started the chapter in two different ways. at first, i’d written her whole entire morning with there always being one thing that was off. like, instead of a perfect omelette, it was going to split and asami would’ve had a scramble, still good, but not her favorite. instead of going through all green lights on her way to work, asami was gonna meet every. single. red. light. i would’ve gone through with this if it hadn’t felt strange; i wanted to give the impression that something bad was going to happen but i felt like having something go wrong with every thing in her morning was gonna be a dead give away that some even bigger big bad was about to happen, if that makes sense. so instead, i went with the picture perfect scenario, almost too perfect, if you ask me. and indeed, it was too perfect, because hiroshi was too much of a coward to tell his daughter any sooner that his board agreed to get a new presenter

im just gonna cite a bunch of my favorite lines/bits from this chapter because i really enjoyed writing it xD

Iroh has already begun but Asami hears no words, only a blaring ring in her ears. Her face feels hot and she wonders how red she is. She stares at the black binder, notes the natural grooves and curves of the material, the plastic covering over top of it, the metal spine peaking out at the bottom. She’s only brought out of it’s dark trance when she feels a hand be placed on her arm; Kuvira. 

when you’re upset, do you ever just, hyper focus on one thing and its like you’re analyzing it under a microscope for the first time? yes? no? well, i do that, and personally, i do because if i focus on my anger/hurt emotions any more, im going to explode and i dont want to explode. so, this instance about looking at the grooves in the binder and each of the components of it just hits with me, idk if does with you too, but like bruuh.

Asami has her hand over her mouth, silently sobbing, feeling as if she’ll throw up. She leans her head on her wheel, her mind wanders to what could’ve been, what should’ve been. She feels as if her car is closing in on her, that the metal is compacting. The seatbelt keeps her locked down to the driver’s seat and she can’t leave if she wants to. The Satomobile holds her hostage and she lets it. Even while it’s hurting her, even while it’s harshly molding itself onto her, she stays at her father’s heel because, what else is she to do?

this is one of my favorite things ive ever done with asami’s character, is using future industries/satomobiles as a sort of vehicle (heh) for her relationship with her dad. this paragraph just kind of hurts, but the good hurt? but also not good hurt? it’s just, (and not me over here boasting about my writing or anything) it’s so poetic that she has this breakdown and she’s so upset with her dad, i mean “what should’ve been” like, asami KNOWS that the shit that’s just happened is more than wrong, yet asami is still somehow wondering how she can please her dad and it’s in the literal legacy hiroshi built for himself. “she stays at her father’s heel because, what else is she to do?” i remember writing that and being like “shit, am i really gonna do this? yeah” ugh, i could go on forever about how i love this section, but i’ll stop here for now.

Asami begins yelling, screaming at the top of her lungs, letting all the thoughts, all the insecurities her father gave her finally be released into the world. Kuvira lets her, simply nodding and following along on the couch while Asami paces her living room. She spews out word after word, about the work, about the presentation, about Iroh, his position, her position, the company, the CEO, and she only stops when she feels the weight of her father rest on her shoulders.

back with more diction; i really love this paragraph because of how we circle back to hiroshi. note how i first say “the CEO” and then a few words later say “her father” because, in a way, this is asami’s confession that hiroshi is CEO first and father second, if i haven’t already explicitly said so. it’s so heart wrenching and sad but my favorite thing about it is this isn’t even about korra. like THIS right here is a prime example about how i realized this fic became more than just a love story. in the planning stages of this fic, asami was going to go through getting the presentation taken away from her, but what was she going to focus more on? the fact that korra wasn’t around anymore. and yes, asami still does think about korra after this, but so much more happens for her. asami gets to know kuvira more, asami gets to know her lab partners more, (and my personal hc is that they’ve all been lab partners for two years and only NOW asami is getting to be friends with them in their senior year, but hey, better late than never!) and to me, what’s even better, is that a bunch of realizations come to asami w/o korra being there. asami is growing and the idea of being able to grow without needing to have a partner in order to grow is so important to me, not only for the fact that growth should be endless and something you do all the time for yourself, but asami literally wants to share it with korra. not boast about changing and growing and becoming better, but just be better with korra. sdlfakds i swear, im fangirling over my own writing, oops

okay, moving on from The Meeting and onto the rest of the chapter

this dock scene was also another part i wrote beforehand and it had a completely different ending in that asami was going to ask korra out on a date. of course, korra would’ve said yes, and then yay yay happy ending. this didn’t happen and i’m glad it didn’t. in one version of this dock scene, asami was actually going to be upset with korra for disappearing, and even worse, mad that korra wasn’t there to comfort her after the presentation. oof, i know. so so glad i didn’t continue down that line, cause it is toxic, and my girls aren’t like that at all.

Once Korra’s eyes meet hers, Asami says, “That doesn’t mean you always have to be on your own.” She smiles at Korra, at the girl who’s turned her world upside down. Her hand remains on Korra’s cheek and she feels the girl sink into her palm. “I’ll be here for you, and it seems like Tenzin will be too, what with saying he was calling you more. And you have his family, and your own family, even though they’re away, they’re here to support you, we all are. You can still be strong and turn to other people for help. It takes great strength to ask for help and I know for a fact you’re strong enough, those bags of coffee beans were nothing for you.”

i like this line of dialogue here for a few reasons, mostly because asami is so soft and so right and the joke at the really helped lighten the mood but didn’t take away from what she’d just said before. i don’t have too much else about the Reunions section, though if you guys have any questions or anything you wanna point out, please do so! i think what i will say is that i tried to be as real and gentle with korra’s progression. i was so nitpicky about everything i wrote because i didn’t want to get any of it wrong or over dramatized or fake. recovery from anything is so important and it takes time and it’s not a straight line so i hope i did a good job with it the rest of the fic. 

moving on, i love the found family trope and this leads me into the next section, New Friends

when i think about this section, i like how soft it is, and i really enjoy the ending bits: korra recounting memories from the south, asami meeting tenzin. i think what i like about the end of this chapter is that, it kind of leaves the question: what’s next?

asami has grown, she’s changed, she sees the errors of her father’s ways but she’s not excusing them. korra has grown, she’s changing, she’s taken the first step in recovery. now it’s just a matter of, what happens with this growth now. and i really loved how i wrapped up the fic in the next and last chapter, so i hope you enjoy it too :))

honorable mentions:

there were a lot of changes in this chapter and one of them got changed twice! korra was gonna get a therapist but then i was like, we gotta get the krew together, and then i was like supppppoorttttt grouuuppppp, because lets be honest, all the krew has stuff they need to work through, and i know therapy isn’t for everyone, but mental health is so vital and important. asami is an advocate for therapy in the chapter but there are also other means to take care of yourself and your mental health and while i’ve never been to a support group, i understand finding comfort in knowing you’re not alone.

i guess what i’m trying to say is please take care of yourself and dont be afraid to lean on others. i know not everyone has the means to get a therapist/psychiatrist and i know that your friends aren’t made to only be your therapist. buuuut, don’t be afraid to reach out, there’s nothing wrong with needing help and support :)

anything i would’ve wanted to change?

honestly, i think the only thing i would’ve wanted to change was mako’s speech during the support group meeting. for me, it was a lil bit too poetically out of character. not to say i want to change the content, but rather the manner in which it’s presented. other than that though, i really loved writing this chapter :)

so this analysis was reeeaaaalllly long, i understand if not everyone made it to end. anyways, thanks so much for reading this analysis and the fic! once again, i’m very much open to questions and any comments, i love them very much! i’ll see you guys in the next analysis of the final chapter :)

[dartiri11]

Since the Beginning of your World

Hey Guys! This is a little special on my channel. So its a onepart. Its about the history of the Fierce Deity. In my fic it will have the name Kishin but thats not my idea! I love the name but i didnt create it. Well the Deitys history is a mystery no one can really solve. So i made my own story! I hope you like it. And ps: Horror Kid and Taya are still better names than Skull Kid and Tatl!

Warnings: Blood, pain and aaaaall the creepy stuff from Majoras mask :)

Was it over? He didn’t feel it anymore. He just felt pain. But not the pain he felt when it started. The pain he felt was a relaxing one. His throat hurt so much from screaming. Link tried to open his eyes but they shut again automatically. He tried once again and saw the bright sunlight. It burned in his face. Specially at his forehead and his cheeks. No, that wasn’t the sun. It was something different. But what?

Link tried to say something but only a silent groan came out of his mouth. When he looked around he saw a silhouette sitting infront of him. He was scared and wanted to run away, but his body hurt too much. Especially his shoulder. He felt blood running down his left arm. Link just lay there breathing. Completly exhausted.

He stared at the person who was sitting there. Is was the Happy-Mask-Salesman. He was holding something. It was purple with colorful spikes and freaking big eyes. Then his memories came back.

He was fighting inside the moon with a horrifying creature named Majora. He was loosing. The creature had its tentacles around him and choke him. It threw Link away like he was nothing. The Hero of Time was laying there as good as dead. In his last power he pulled out the mask he got a few moments before and put it on. Suddenly a deep pain ran through his body and he was screaming. Link never felt a pain like that. At that moment he felt like he was dying over and over again. It was so painful. But in the whole pain he felt power too. A power like the pain. New. A new expierience he never had before. And the young hero had seen a lot of things.

He could see nothing. Only white. But why white? A tall figure appeared infront of him. He looked like a knight. But much scarier. He had blue and red markings on his face. And white hair. The figure also had a tunic a bit like his own. Not in green, in white. Around the tunic was a shiny armour. On his back the man carried a huge sword and when he slowly came closer, Link tried to step back. But in his exhaustion he couldn’t keep his self and fell back down.

The person came closer.

And closer.

And closer.

Until he stood really infront of him. Link could see his eyes. There was nothing in his eyes. They were empty.

He was so scared. So he put his hands protecting infront of his face in fear he would die every moment. Where was Taya? Where was Navi? And where the hell even was Link?! He was alone in here. Alone with the scary person wich would kill him now.

But nothing happened. He looked at the person and saw a hand infront of his face. The hand probably was five times bigger than his own. The man was just standing there. Reaching for Links hand. He slowly put his hand into the mans and he pulled him up from the ground.

Now they were standing there hand in hand. Then the man started to talk. His voice was so strong and sounded not really human. It echoed like a ghosts voice.

"Lets beat this demon together, my child"

But then his memories clicked out.

It was over. Whatever happened, he defeated Majora. He tried to sit up and rubbed his head. His face was still burning but it was weaker than before.

"What happened...?" He asked tired and confused.

Then a fairy rushed over to him when it heared his voice. "Link! You finally woke up! I was so worried about you!"

He couldn’t belive his eyes or eares. "N-Navi?!" But with a short look his dream broke and turned into disappointment. Anyway he was happy Taya was at least there for him. Navi just left him...

No! He couldn’t think about Navi that way! She was Links partner and best friend. It hurt when she left him after their adventure. Like the others. He felt tears silently running down his face.

"Link? Are you okay? And who is Navi?" Taya asked and flew a bit closer to him.

He hastily wiped his teares away and tried to smile at Taya. "Nothing. Im fine, Taya."

"Ok? If you say that? Anyway, after you put on that mask, you grew and turned into a huge guy. And man, you fought that beast like a god. And i was not afraid! I fought on your side! Yeah... enough of my braveness. We saved everyone!"

The moon over the Clock Town was gone and all the people were save. He did it.

Link suddenly heared a quiet sobbing. "Im sorry. Im so sorry, Tael and Taya. I was a terrible friend, but you never left me! I can understand if you dont want to be my friends anymore..." a little Horror Kid cried.

Another Fairy appeared next to Taya. A black one. "Comon Sis, we should forgive him. He didn’t-"

"After all he did? He almost destroyed the whole country and if we hadn’t stopped him, hundrets of people would be dead!" Taya said angry, what made Horror Kid let his head hang down sadly.

"But that wasn’t really him. It was the mask! You know him. Horror Kid just wants to play. Dont be so strict, Sister." Tael said and Taya sighned.

The both fairies flew slowly over to the weeping Horror Kid. He hugged his friends and really started cry. For a few moments Link was just sitting there, watching them. He felt happy and sad at the same time, because it reminded him at Navi. Horror Kid calmed down a bit and let go his fairies from his tight hug.

"Lets go back into the woods. Then i can show you my home." He said to his friends. Horror Kid then looked at Link and almost flinched. "Thank you for stopping that creepy mask and saving me." The little woodcreature smiled. "You remind me at someone. Are you Kokiri?"

Link hastily shook his head. He wasn’t a Kokiri. Not anymore. Well he has never been. And he hated to think about it. Ok since his first adventure, he hated to think about everything that had something to do with his "home".

Taya came back to Link. "I think that means our goodbye. I- It was- Thank you Link." He just smiled.

The young hero decided to continue the search for Navi in the woods. It was late and he noticed Epona was tired, so they made camp. She looked so adorable when his little horse was sleeping. She moved in sleep a bit more than usual. But Link couldn’t blame her. The last three days were horrifying to Epona too.

At least his horse had a bit sleep. In that night he didn’t close an eye. He just sat there staring in the dancing flames of the campfire ignoring the pain in his shoulder. It was a deep bite. Whatever bit him there was huge. The for others scary sounds in the woods remembered him at all the nights he couldn’t sleep like now and played then hide and seek with his friends in the dark forest. But then a voice broke the silence.

"You are broken. What is it?"

He jumped back and looked around. "W-Who is there?" He slowly reached for his sword.

It was silent again. Epona just turn on her back with a soft snoring. Was that real? Or was he just so tired?

"Dont be afraid. I won’t hurt you."

When the voice appeared again, a low shine came out of his bag, wich was laying beside the campfire.

He slowly went towarts to it and carefully opened it. There were only his masks and other items.

"What are you waiting for? Take me out."

The shine and the voice came again. He dropped the bag and steped back. A few masks landed on the ground. Among them a glowing one. It was the scary one with the marks and the white hair. Was the huge man talking to Link?

It lost its shine and he picked it up. "Uhm... Hello?" He asked the mask suspicious.

"Hello, my child. I was waiting for you since the beginning of your world."

"Who are you?"

"I can tell you if you want."

Link looked at Epona. She was still sleeping like a rock. He sat on the ground and looked at the mask in his hands. Everytime it talked it started glowing.

"Ok? What do you mean with 'since the beginning of your world'? How old are you? Wait, and why do you call me 'my child'? That sounds stupid!"

"My name is Kishin and you already met Majora, right?"

He shook his body a bit as he thought about the creepy demon-mask. He just nodded and Kishin started telling a story Link would never have guessed.

"Once apon a time there were three godesses in the middle of nowhere. They had a plan together. To create live.

The three friends planned and laughed with each other. Until a universe was originated. The universe was empty yet. And they wanted to change that.

One of that three godesses was Hylia. Well i think you at least know her, right? Good, but im sure you dont know the others. Well the second one was Majora himself. And I, Kishin also known as the Fierce Deity, was the third one."

"Wait, Wait. Wait! That thing in the moon, WAS A GODESS LIKE HYLIA?!"

"You didn’t let me finish."

"Ok sorry, continue."

"Hylia was always the nice one of us. Majora was the absolute oppusite. He was more childish and cunning but he always made us laugh. I always knew how annoying he could be but Majora always has been our friend. He always called me a grump after he annoyed me a bit too much and i stopped him.

When we all started with our main world we planned for the universe, we gave our best to make the world so beautiful we can. Majora made all the dirt, rocks and fire. Hylia made all the coloures, air and water. And I made the spirits, feelings and lifes. A land was built piece for piece.

But how sad it was we never had the chance to finish like we planed. Then Majora loved the world we were creating together and wanted to have it for himself. But at that time he hid it and pushed that thought away.

Then, when Hylia was helping me designing a special species with technical skills, it happened. Majora just wanted to help me too but i didn’t want a guy like him designing the humans. He was my friend but i didn’t really trust him. He was sad and angry now. We were a lot arguing and the construction of that world was interrupted. A simple dispute turned into a real fight.

I fought with my sword and Majora with something he called Dark Magic. One of his crazy inventions. Hylia always held herself out of our problems, but this time she begged us to stop and just wanted to save her friends. But in his anger Majora attacked Hylia and i tried to block it. She was alright but i got deathly injured.

The shock to hurt a friend so bad let his power grow. He couldn’t control it anymore and his mind broke. My best friend turned right before my dying eyes into a demon. I knew that wasn’t Majora anymore. With my last power i grabbed my sword and killed it to protect Hylia. The last thing i feeled in my own body were tears running down my face and my friends blood burning on my skin."

"Whoaaaaa! Thats deep! What happened next?! Wait, do you even know that? Why can you know what happenes next?"

"Im a dead god."

"Ok that makes sense..."

"Would you please let me finish?!"

"Ok, sorry. Im just a bit disturbed that the thing that threw me against a wall was a dead god."

"Anyway, after her friends died, Hylia was very sad and missed us. And to save our souls she banned us into masks. And our little projekt? She couldn’t make it alone so Hylia created three other godesses to finish the world and create the things she couldn’t do alone. She called them Farore, Din and Nayru. They should show Courage, Power and Wisdom.

When it was finally done she called it 'Hyrule' and she also planted the humans i made but never had the chance to make them real. I don’t know why but Hylia sometimes does something i cant understand. She reincarnates us.

I think she sometimes creates a great evil and someone who can kill it, to see the evil fail. One of that evils is called Ganon. And dont freak out Link! The one to slay it... are you-"

Everything froze for Link and he felt tears well ing up in his eyes. He knew it. The Hero of Time was just another figure in nothing else than a game.

"NO!!! I won’t do this all anymore! JUST LET ME GO!!!"

He threw the mask in his hands onto the ground before it could even answer and started running. Running, just running. It was all he could do at the moment. He ran deeper into the woods.

It was cold, and he felt the cool nightair blowing into his face. The tears in his face felt freezing while he rushed through the forest. The woods used to be his home, but at the moment they were scary.

He was still running, until a root stopped him. Link fell with his face to the ground. He kneeled up and felt a tear falling down his face. One tear bacame two tears. He started sobbing. He felt all the pain and loss coming again and he cried it all out. He cird for Navi, for Taya, for all the people he saw dying infront of his eyes and for all the creepy things he saw ripping his soul out of his body. But most of all he cried for himself.

The deep night got colder and he started trembling. But that didn’t matter. He deserved it. He couldn’t save Darmani or Mikau or even the dekubutlers son. Or all the people of Termina. Link saw all of them die often enough. He was just a useless failure.

But suddenly he felt arms around him and his trembling got stronger. "Its ok kid. Everything is okay. You’re save." He looked up and saw the person that held him. It was Kishin.

-----

He knew the story would be confusing, but Kishin told him too much. The kid stood up and threw him away. Link shouted at him and ran away into the woods. He tried to stop him but the kid already was too far away. Damn mask! He couldn’t move!

His mask lay now directly next to Links little horse. It was awaken by his shouts and was now looking into the direction where the kid dissapeared. It was asking its self if it should follow its friend.

The foal didn’t notice the mask laying next to it. Maybe... well it was his only chance.

He started shouting and yelling at the horse. And it jumped up and neighed scared. The horse started kicking around and stood at the glowing mask. Yes! Finally!

The Fierce Deitys Mask broke and he felt free. Kishins vision grew. He looked at his self and couldn’t believe his stupid plan really worked. He wasn’t sealed anymore. He had a body!

The tiny horse infront of him looked afraid at him and ran away into the forest as well. He would get it back later but at first he had to find the kid.

He rushed away from the camp into the darkness. It felt amzing to run with his own feet. He stopped when he heared a small whimper and looked around. Kishin found the little kid kneeling on the ground. He was trembling and brokenly sobbing. Kishins heart hurt when he saw him like that in the creepy cold forest.

He came closer to Link and kneeled down next to him. The kid seemed he didn’t noticed the huge man sitting next to him. Kishin wrapped his arms around him and pulled the boy closer to him.

The Hero of Time tried to fight against something he hoped he never had to see again. His brother. And the next to Majora tiny child wouldn’t win. Link was a good fighter, but nothing against that deamons torture. Majora could have killed him with one hit, but he was defenitly playing with his victim. That really looked like his brother. But more violently. Kishin tried to help the kid but he had no chance. He was trapped in this mask. He couldn’t even speak to him. When the child was almost defeated he finally pulled out his mask. Finally! He could help him! Link put on the mask.

The kid was in his mask as well. His forestgreen tunic stained with blood. He looked scared. Kishin helped him up and tried not to seem terrifying. "Lets beat this deamon together, my child." He said and Kishin felt power and freedom in him. His vision vanished and appeared on Majora again. He stood up and got the Helix-Sword from his back.

"Kiii.......shiiin...." The creature infront of him hissed. It stood there ready to fight. Where should have been hands, there were long tentacles. They were colourful like its whole body. The deamon used them like whips.

Before he got...that... Majora used whips as well. Like Kishin had his sword, or Hylia had her bow. He also had a trident. But it was just his second weapon. Majoras trident was far faster than Kishins sword but it was less powerful. To his luck, the savage beast that was once called his brother didnt show to have a trident. Just whips.

On its chest was a colourful symbol of two terrifying eyes staring at him. Around the eyes there were markings. The same markings Majora had in his face. Evey god has markings. He had red and blue stripes. Even Hylia has markings in her face. Under her eyes were some things similar to wings. He even made her a gift. He created a animal wich should be the symbol of her markings. She loved it an called it a 'Loftwing'. Kishin would never forget her beautyful face. And he could never ever forget Majoras true identity. How he was before...before Kishin ruined everything.

He looked at Majoras awful appearence and felt his heart hurt. 'Its all my fault' he thought.

"Never...thought to see...you-" Kishin saw Majora charging and made himself ready to jump away. "-AGAIN!" Majora attacked with one of his whips but Kishin could dodge it.

"That isn’t you, Majora! I know it! Please!" He begged. But Majora didn’t answer him and awfully screeched at him. The dead deity didn’t care but suddenly felt the kids body flinch. He started running towarts Majora and jumped at him. Kishin rose his Sword and tried to hit the creature. But Majora blocked him perfectly and hurled one of his whipes at his former brother. The whip hit Kishin and wrapped itself around his ankle. The deamon god threw him through the whole room, or moon, he didn’t knew exactly. He violently hit the wall.

Kishin stood up and picked up his sword again. 'I hope the kid is alright...' he thought. He stormed to him again and dodged the whipes coming towarts to him. Kishin waited for the next whip trying to hit him and cut it off. Majora screamed and they both looked at each other. Exhausted and fierce at the same time.

"Why...why did you do that all? Why did you enter Termina? And why do you want to destroy it?!" He asked the deamon in rage.

The only response was a screech. But it this time sounded like laughter. Majora was laughing at him. Ignoring the blood running down his body and falling onto the offcutted piece of his left whip laying on the ground. Then he bagan to speak. "My original...plan.....to destroy....what created!" More screeching laughter was to hear and a wide grin appeared on his friends face. "I...created world and moon...want them see...destroying...EACH OTHER!" Majora jumped at him again. This time it was more unexpected. But he dodged it again. "Hyrule...to well protected...Horror Kid...to weak..." Majoras breathing was loud and strong, but it was ratteling too. "Hylia knew...would destroy...her loved Hyrule...Pathetic! Brought Horror Kid...my mask to Termina....also courage and you...to KILL ME!" Majora yelled at him in rage but he didnt attack.

"Courage? You mean the kid?"

The deamon stared at him and a wide grin rose on his face. "Kid? You...like it?"

Kishin froze. He said too much, but he tried to stay cool. The savage deamon shouldn’t know his weakness. Useless. Majora already knew.

The beast sprinted towards him and threw his one whip at Kishin. He dodged it and was ready to attack his brother. But the creature threw his whip again. And the Fierce Deity was too slow this time.

The whip wrapped itself around his shoulders and choke him. He couldn’t move. With his only weapon left now, Majora dug his sharp large teeth into Kishins shoulder. He screemed without even noticing it. Kishin himself didn’t feel the pain, but he felt the kid feeling it. That was enough to make his heart hurt. Well if a dead god could have a heart.

Kishin tried to swing his sword but could barely move. The small move he was able to do was enough to cut off Majoras other whip. The creature screeched and let go of his shoulder. The god used his chance and rose his sword. It slided through the coulorful flesh of Majoras chest. His last scream was fierce and screeching. It almost hurt in Kishins or the kids ears.

Majora sunk to his knees and his screaming stopped until everything that was to hear was exhausted breathing. Coming from both of them.

"You...know......you’re........weak..............to...weak....but.......although...you’re..............weaker.....than...me..you....always.......manage....it....to................protect......someone...............h-how?!" Majora said with exhaution in his voice.

It hurt to see his brother like that. "Because i don’t want to hurt anyone. But you hurt the kid. And the kid also just wanted to protect the people." He said cold as ice but a part of him knew that he was failing to seem cold.

Majora rose his head to look into his brothers face. "Thank.........you........" he said with a diffrent, clear vioce. Less demonic. Everything froze for Kishin. The look Majora gave him was warm. Well as warm as a savage deamon could be. That was not the deamon he fought. That was his brother.

Kishin wanted to help him but in that moment everything began to shake and Majoras body started to glow.

The room vanished and he started falling. The whole started spinning until he hit the ground.

"Its ok kid. Everything is okay. You’re save. You have gone through enough for now." He said and felt the child trembling in the cold of the deep night

[kryptsune]

Hi you are an amazing writer i was wondering if you have any tips on salvaging a story that was derailed by a brain fart cause uh i was writing a short story that turned out to be longer and harder to read for anyone thats not myself and now i cant barely look at it... so can i have tips or advice please?

🌼Sorry for the late reply on this I wanted to be able to take the time to give you my own personal advice. First of all, thank you for the kind words :D I am so happy that you enjoy my writing. 

Tips tips tips. Well, there are a couple of things you can do and I have personally done myself. If you feel as though a story has gotten out of hand there is nothing wrong with that at all. I never planned to have either Felldritch or Wonderfell having their own fics in the first place but I enjoy writing for them so much that it was a logical progression. It is difficult for me to assess your personal investment in the project and from what I am reading it seems you no longer are passionate about it?  The truth of the matter is that writing has to be something you enjoy in order to do stories. Sure you can pump out chapter after chapter but it won’t have that spark and why would you put yourself through that suffering in the first place? Sometimes stories are hard to read for others just because of their personality. I have a lot of friends that enjoy my work but haven’t read the story because it is massive. That is something I am keenly aware of often. Welcome to the Underworld is not for the faint of heart or for casual readers and I understand that. It’s not for everyone. I appreciate it when people at least try, however, it is a good way for me to gauge interest at the very least. 

I will break this into 3 parts. The first will be revaluating your current story/project and the second will be things you can do that might make it easier for your readers if you still feel you want to continue it and lastly what you can do to possibly get that passion back if so you can “look at it again.” 1. Evaluating your project: As artists and creatives, we tend to latch onto our work because we put our own personal investment into it. I usually use the analogy that it is like our child and it can be difficult to care for sometimes and yet rewarding at others. This is the first thing you want to do if you are working on a project. Always evaluate. Do you enjoy it anymore?  Do you feel stuck? Is it just not going the way you want it to? Writer's block maybe? All of these can be factors into why you may not enjoy it any longer. 

I felt this with WTU for the longest time and now looking back on it...it was for the wrong reasons. I felt that no one wanted to read it after hours upon hours of writing and editing. It made me sad and I didn’t understand why. The thing is I have changed my mindset when it comes to this. It is hard for me to accurately gauge who reads my work without some kind of feedback but I have a goal. I set out to write an extensive and world built Fell verse and I am going to do it. It’s important to me and it is rewarding just to know that I can do a project as large as the three acts of WTU. Ask yourself why are you writing the story? What are your roadblocks? This will help you come to a decision. 

2. Easing the Readers: If you read my writing you will notice I have a tendency to write a fair bit. Every chapter of WTU ranges from about 15-20 pages of text 11 point font in google docs. That is a lot. I actually have not gone and calculated the word count on it but yeah, a lot. There are simple things you can do however to make the reading a little more digestible for people. 

a. Formating: I never had a problem with reading large blocks of text. That was how I was taught in middle and high school. That said others struggle with large blocks because it makes it difficult to read from a visual perspective (the irony that I am using block text right now). What you can do is break up your paragraphs more often. I have started to do this with older WTU chapters seeing as there are a lot of text blocks. It is a simple and relatively hassle-free way to make it easier. 

b. Pacing: I am by no means the expert of fics however there are some things that I notice in fics that tend to pop up quite frequently. I am not saying to change these things by any means but to evaluate and possibly adjust when needed. PACING. I can’t tell you how many stories I have read with poor or confusing pacing. What I mean by this is that the story is either holding too long in a certain scene or there is no breathing room. WTU and a lot of my fics have dark undertones to them which creates drama and emotional payoff, however, doing this constantly and throwing problem after problem into a story is hard to swallow. The readers need a break. This can be anything from levity to simple character interactions. Not everything is fights or angst. 

This also goes for fics that have none of the former as well. There are so many that are a slice of life and that is fine! Enjoy your cute fluffy fics that said if there is no conflict then what is the point of continuing to read the story? What is holding my investment? Sure the characters can be written well but the point of storytelling is connection. A perfect butterflies and rainbows story is all well and good but you can’t connect to it. That is not how life is. (I am pontificating a little bit but I am honestly really tired of having to explain to people that my fics are M for a reason. No NSFW stuff but rather real-life mental and psychological and emotional situations.)

c. Characters: This kind of also ties into what I was talking about before. A flawless character... is a boring one. Some of peoples favorite characters are the villains, why? Because unlike their heroic counterparts they feel real. They go through things and make their own path. If they just chose differently then things would be different. A lot of times (and no offense to fandom) I find that people make stereotypes of a character. It’s all surface-level stuff. Think about what makes you, you. What have you gone through that causes you to think a certain way or react to things? Our lives are made up of experiences and moments and characters are the exact same way. Most don’t realize this since I hint it throughout the story but everything tells a story. The character's costumes tell a story whether that be the place they live of their own personal style. Why does my Red wear a collar with a seemingly half-broken, fused, and burned chain link? I don’t know... you tell me. 

It’s a storytelling technique called breadcrumbing. This is used to hint to some sort of plot or payoff. A foreshadowing at times. It is an incredibly useful and engaging tool if done properly. I would use my “why does Red do what he does” example but its been beaten to death so I will use Boss as my example instead.   

Boss is the Head of Royal Guard having bested Undyne a long time ago but not everyone was happy with the change of the Guard and that is communicated in character dialogue. In fact, you can use this method to hint to character connections as well. Boss has claw marks in both his scarf and his left eye socket. So.... who could do that kind of damage? If you have read the story *mild Snowdin spoiler* Frisk meets Doggo. An Australian cattle dog-wolf mix that has no love for the current Captain. He was tossed out of the Royal Guard after altercation... maybe attacking a certain lanky skeleton perhaps? It’s not directly stated but certain visual ques could lead someone to that kind of assumption. 

Intertwine your characters, their relationships, their life events. All of this will create far more dynamic storytelling and investment.

d. Planning: Returning back to potential writers' block... I find that something that personally helps me is outlining. I have all of my stories planned out from beginning to end while the middle can be moved around accordingly. That said in every single chapter I outline the main points I want to communicate. It helps with the organization but also keeping your thoughts on track. If you feel you need an extra chapter for character development then you can totally plan that out. Don’t be afraid to change things. It’s your story do what you feel is best for it! 

e. Editors/betas/outside eyes: This is a huge one and can be a little challenging at first. It is helpful to have others look at the work. Those that you trust. Have them look for grammar or even pacing and character inconsistencies. It can be hard to get a critique on your work that you love so much however this makes you far better writer IF IT COMES FROM A REPUTABLE SOURCE. 

I need to clarify this as you cannot please everyone. I have rejected critiques from my beta readers in the past, not because I think I know better but because even they can’t account for your overall thought process. What they think is superfluous may come to have a payoff later on and it needs to be in there for that payoff. That can be anything from character development to plot.  You have to be strong in your conviction. Say yes and no when appropriate and always be kind to your readers. They are taking time out of their lives to help you with your work. The same goes for the betas. Be respectful and kind when giving CONSTRUCTIVE feedback and don’t be offended when the author does not agree. 

3. Breaking the Block: Breaking any kind of block is not easy. In fact, it is a constant nuisance in any creative field. That said there are some simple things that you can do to help. The best example I can give is taking a break. That can range from person to person but generally, sometimes you work on something for so long you need to set it aside and look at it with fresh and new eyes. It is ok to take breaks, hiatus, or just work on something else for your own mental well being. Here are a few things you can do to utilize your break effectively.  a. Don’t even look at it: Some people just need to get away from it all which is totally understandable. I would be farther along in my own fics if I did not break so much but I am determined to put my best foot forward even if it takes me longer. I am also an artist in the drawing and painting sense so I juggle that as well. If you notice my blog right now there has not been much going on in the way of writing because I’ve switched gears. There is nothing wrong with that but I pick my battles. 

b. Work on another project: There is nothing wrong with working on something else just for a change of pace. We are not machines and therefore monotony breeds complacency or burn out in this case. One of the reasons I have 2 other fics is because sometimes I hop from project to project. I know not everyone can mentally do that but it helps me recharge for the main project that I feel worn out on. 

People have also been wondering where TLC (Tender Love and Care) my Red X Frisk fic has been. The truth is that fic is my downtime fic. I do it when I am able to. In fact, as I work on my multiverse boys references lately I have been working on the second chapter of TLC because its a nice change of pace from doing something like Felldritch or the other two.

c. A little at a time:  Any type of project can be overwhelming so taking chunks of it at a time helps compartmentalize it a little easier. Try to write as much as you can a day. It’s not much but by the end of the week, boom, your chapter is done. 

You shouldn’t push yourself or beat yourself up either. I find that I always feel guilty about taking some leisure time because I could be creating more content but that’s unhealthy. Take the time you need and enjoy your games or books. I personally am enjoying the heck out of Animal Crossing right now. 

All in all, I hope some of these tips help a little. Since I do not know what you are working on or why you feel the way you do about it. It is hard for me to give direct advice. What I can say out of all of this is enjoy what you are making. Enjoy the journey and the process. At the end of the day, it is your investment and if you don’t enjoy it what is the point?

 It is nice to get feedback on things, trust me I know sometimes it feels like pulling teeth, and there are clear signs of burn out. We are not art machines, give it some time, reflect, evaluate, and you will find your way. If you really want me to dig deeper to give you specific con crit advice then you are free to DM me. My ask box is also always open! 

[ncitytexts]

Flutter.

SUMMARY: you never knew the reason why your heart always fluttered with the boy you had grown up with all your life.

PAIRING: jeno x fem!reader

GENRE: fluff! neighbor!jeno & bestfriend!jeno; friends to lovers au

WORDS: 2.3k.. like exactly 2.3k

WARNINGS: like. a speck of angst in the middle.

A/N: it kinda follows the american school system bc that’s the ... only school system i know LOL but alSO i usually write only soft hours aaaa but lets start off with my first fic with the one n only ... lee jeno hehe

Ever since you moved into your new neighborhood, only one person pops into your mind: Lee Jeno.

He was there when you first moved in, offering you a cookie his mom baked as you timidly clung on to your dad’s leg.

“Go on, sweetie. He’s going to be your future neighbor!”

Slowly approaching the long-limbed, yet small boy, he quickly took your hand in his and started to shake it. “Hello! My name’s Jeno. What’s your name?”

Little did you know that your encounter with Jeno would turn out to be the first of many, many other ones.

You had just turned six years old, and you were going to start your first day of first grade soon. Your mom insisted that you take the bus, calling it a way to  “make new friends”, but being the introvert that you were, it was your worst nightmare. Lightly tugging at your backpack, your mom said, “Come on, sweetheart, you’ll be okay!” You held back tears, and pecked your mom on the cheek before stepping on the bus.

The bus driver gave you a kind smile, but that did nothing to ease your nervousness. You walked down the cramped aisle filled with legs that stuck out and glittery backpacks and looked for lone seats; instead, you spot your neighbor, Jeno. At the same time, he spots you too, and gives you one of his iconic crescent eye smiles. 

“Come sit here, Y/N! We can be seat buddies for school!”

“O-o-okay!”

That was the first time Lee Jeno made your heart flutter.

You’re now twelve, but instead of your first day of first grade, it’s your first day of middle school. Jeno not only had found a new group of friends, but also became one of the biggest heartthrobs in the entire school. He had become good looking and was so tall that he towered over you at times. But still, he never forgot to hang out with you. He often came over to your house most nights to play games with you on your older brothers’ game consoles. He always went on ice cream runs with you and your mom, always yelling to his parents that “he’s off to get ice cream with Mrs. Y/L/N again!” Most importantly, he still rode the bus to and from school with you, insisting that he was your “eternal seat buddy”. 

However, when you stepped on the bus this morning, he wasn’t there in your usual seats, so you ending up walking to your locker alone in the morning.

“I ... can’t ... get ... this ... stupid ... combi-”

All of a sudden, another pair of hands land on your lock, and you look up to find the one and only, Lee Jeno.

“I’m sorry that I was gone this morning ... what’s your combination? I’m sure I could open it.” Jeno says, while giving you another one of his genuine smiles.

Smiling at his genuine willingness to help, you say, “Trust me, Jeno. I might have a better chance at going to the office instead. My dad literally scribbled it down this morning and it could be passed off as a kid’s handwriting. Plus, what if you’re late for class?”

Jeno lets out a laugh and says, “Don’t worry about my classes! Can you read out the combination for me then?” 

“I think it should be 29-10-35,” you hesitantly say, looking down at the crumpled piece of paper in your hands, attempting to decipher your dad’s rushed handwriting. Jeno questioningly looks at you and snatches the paper out of your hands to stick it up to the closest window, as if he believed the sunlight would help him read the messy, loopy handwriting better. Suddenly, he lets out a “Ha!” and hands you back the paper. Jeno turns back to the lock on your locker while whispering, “It’s actually 28,” Click. “19,” Click. “36.” Click.

With one swift motion, he was able to get both the lock in his hands and your locker door wide open. You glance at the nearest clock and it reads 7:58 AM, giving you two minutes before class starts.

“See? I told you I would open it on time. Now, hurry up and get your books! I don’t think all the girls in this school would be fond of you if you were to be late to homeroom with me.” Jeno says with a smirk before holding his hand out to you, ready to sprint to class with you hand-in-hand.

That cocky boy, you thought. Grabbing your textbook and slamming your locker shut, you stuck your lock back on and placed your hand on Jeno’s.

The moment Jeno whisked you away to homeroom with your hand in his is the second time he made your heart flutter.

The ripe age of sixteen has arrived, and your friendship with Jeno has altered in ways that you didn’t expect. For one, Jeno got his license earlier than most kids in the junior class as he had an earlier birthday while your birthday was stuck in the summer, so you weren’t able to get it as quickly. So instead of riding the bus every morning with Jeno, he swore that he would take you to school every morning, which of course, was approved by your parents immediately. Two, junior year was taking a toll on the both of you, so your nightly visits through each other’s windows were shortened to once a week. However, today you had promised Jeno that you would meet him at his house for an AP Biology test study session.

You knocked on his door three times, one time with a pause, proceeded by two quick ones. With this knock, Jeno is sure that you’re the one on the other side of the door, and not another girl from school asking for his number.

“Ah! Y/N! Ready to grind on some bio?” 

Looking back up into his eyes, you lose balance, not realizing that you blanked out and didn’t even notice the door opening. You lean forward a little in an attempt to regain your balance, but your knees lock instead. Jeno steadies you by holding onto your waist, and says, “You okay?” You nod almost instantly, cheeks reddening out of embarrassment.

You take off your shoes before entering Jeno’s house and you’re instantly greeted by his mom. “Oh! Y/N! Jeno didn’t tell me you were coming,” she says while wiping off her hands with a towel, “I would’ve made you guys my neighborhood famous cookies!” She winks jokingly and you respond, “Your cookies are just too good, Mrs. Lee. I was all over them when you brought them over last week!” with a smile as Mrs. Lee approaches you for a hug. 

“Hey! Don’t think I’ll let you steal her heart from me!”

Before you can give Mrs. Lee a nice “I’m-glad-to-see-you-again” hug, you turn around to find Jeno leaning against the stairs. Realizing he saw the entire encounter, you smirk at him, saying, “And what if I do? Your mom is just so sweet!” You can hear Mrs. Lee laugh behind you as Jeno walks up to the both of you and says, “You’ll have to steal my heart before you can steal my mom’s!”

When Jeno said that, it was the third time he made your heart flutter.

Jeno then takes your hand and says, “Okay, mom, I’m gonna go study upstairs with Y/N. We have our AP Biology test soon and I don’t think you want us getting two’s. Bye! Love you!” Mrs. Lee responds with a “Mhm.” before Jeno leads you back up to his room, with your hand still in his. 

Once you step foot into his room, a wave of memories hit you. 

“Tsk. Y/N, are you climbing through my window again?”

Midway through his window, you say, “Sorry, I’m home alone again. And I keep hearing weird noises! Jeno, I’m just scared.” Jeno looks up from his school project that’s scattered all over his desk with a glue stick in one hand and a pair of scissors in the other. “So, what do you want me to do? Cut them apart with scissors? Snip snip!” 

After you helped Jeno with his Egyptian project for his presentation on Monday, you found the both of you staring at his ceiling, adorned by glow-in-the-dark plastic stars and planets. You began to fall asleep while Jeno was talking, and the last thing you remember is Mrs. Lee whispering to you that “your parents are here to get you”.

“Hello? Earth to Y/N? Oh my god, she’s a goner.” Jeno says while vigorously trying to snap his fingers in front of your face. You grab his hand and say, “Stop it, you dork, I need more help on cellular respiration. I can’t remember any of the products again.” Jeno makes a sound in agreement and you feel buzzes coming from your phone in your back pocket.

[2:03 PM] juuuudy🧚🏻‍♀️: hey y/n where are you rn?

[2:03 PM] diane💃🏻: yeah where you at bro? let’s go get ice cream!

[2:03 PM] y/n: oh i’m @ jeno’s rn for ap bio. guys i cannot fail

[2:04 PM] juuuudy🧚🏻‍♀️: WHat YOU’RE AT JENOS

[2:04 PM] diane💃🏻: WAIT DO U MEAN T HE LEE JENO

[2:04 PM] diane💃🏻: BRO WTF GET US HIS NUMBER

[2:04 PM] juuuudy🧚🏻‍♀️: ^^^ agreed!!!!!1

[2:05 PM] y/n: guys i can’t just give y’all his number thats just creepy

[2:05 PM] juuuudy🧚🏻‍♀️: bro wtf.... do u like him or smth?

Before you can type out a reply to Judy’s text, Jeno whisks your phone away from your hands. “Hey! Give me my phone back!” you say, trying to get it from his hands, but his height allows him to keep it held high above his head while he attempts to read the texts that you sent. All of a sudden, he stops resisting you and hands your phone back. Confused, you’re prepared to tease him as to why he gave into you, but you’re interrupted by Jeno saying, “Do you like me?”

Shocked and unable to answer, you were only able to spit out an “I don’t know.” You had never felt this nervous before, as you’ve never thought of it that way. But perhaps, you do have feelings for him. Jeno, clearly confused and also unable to answer, simply says with a straight face, “Let’s just get to work on AP Bio. You said you needed help anyways,” before turning back to his desk.

Instead of a fluttering heart, your heart broke into a million pieces.

But what you didn’t know is that he really had just hoped that you said you liked him.

It’s been two years after he asked if you liked him, and it’s never left your mind. Jeno ended up acting like nothing had happened anyways.

Now, both you and Jeno are eighteen. Your graduation is set to happen tomorrow afternoon, and you’re getting a whole wave of nervousness running throughout your body. Trying on dress after dress, Jeno sits in your room clearly bored and swiping mindlessly on his phone. When you finally find a V-neck dress that’s just the right length and adorned with a floral pattern, you step out of your bathroom to show Jeno.

Noticing that his eyes are still glued to his phone, you say, “Jeno? Hello?” He still doesn’t look up, so you decide to spit out nicknames you knew he wouldn’t like. “Jeno-jaem! Loser! Momma’s boy!” is the three nicknames that finally get his attention.

“Dude, you know I hate that nick-”

Jeno’s mouth gapes open as he looks you up and down. You notice his ears getting slightly red when you say, “So? Is this the dress I should wear?” Stuttering, Jeno replies, “U-u-uh, yeah.” You look at him suspiciously and mumble, “Okay, I guess not then.” As you turn back to the bathroom to change, he quickly grabs your hand and says, “What I meant is that you look beautiful in it. Absolutely stunning in it.” 

You can feel yourself blush. His hand is still holding yours, and after a few seconds of silence, you feel yourself suddenly asking the same daring question he asked two years ago.

“Do you like me?”

Expecting a rejection, you let go of his hand and turn back around. However, this time, he pulls your hand back into a tight hug and says, “Maybe I do. And maybe I’ve liked you since the first time I met you.”

It’s finally the day of your graduation, and you’re lucky enough to be sitting next to Jeno. While sitting on white chairs lined up across the stadium’s field, you can feel all eyes on you and Jeno. Ever since last night, Jeno has been close to you, making all the girls around you become filled with instant jealousy and envy.

You look down in your lap and play with your fingers nervously when you hear Jeno say, “Don’t worry about them. I know you think they’re all looking at you, but if it makes you feel better, you’re the only one I’m looking at.” Looking back up into his eyes, you give him the biggest smile accompanied with a blush.

Once the speeches are given and the diplomas are handed out, the principal makes the final, iconic line said at every graduation. Immediately afterwards, the stadium is filled with cheers and yells, as you and Jeno throw your graduation caps up into the air. You both stand up facing each other when he finally makes the bold move to take your face in his hands and connect your plush lips with his.

His simple, yet loving action was the fourth time your heart fluttered for him; except, this time, you know why it was fluttering.

[throwing-summers-at-the-walls]

Hi, i hope you are feeling good! Im better than yesterday so i can finally answer you. First of all: i am so happy that you shared your fanfiction! i had a great time reading it! Im always open for more recs. Maybe your all time favorites? Or if you know some good h/c these are always welcome :) And YESSS please send me a link to your fanvids. -- yeah 13rw was super cursed. haha i also watched season 1 but thankfully i was able to sto watching becaue i could feel it making me feel bad (1)

I agree the suicide scene was just cringe (but i think i remember reading somewhere that they cut it out? idk) and overall this show just gave me the feeling that there was no hope and things are always getting worse instead of better and i hated that. but enough of that cursed show. can i just say i really admire how open you are about your feelings (like being suicidal and that) i realy, really admire this about you. i have so much respect for you that you can just share your feelings here (2)

I have never heard of ace attorney but that story you described sounds really good. and i get reading sth that isnt good for you and still doing it (because im a dumb bitch too :D) -- okay i might accept that Root will never grow on you (but i thought so too and look at me now :D) but i havent fully given up yet :)-- yes thats the girl. i think it was really sweet when she said that to Shaw. and i think Shaw appreciated it that someone tried to figure her out instead of just writting her off (3)

Shaw is really cool and definately also a badass and in combination with John its just great! but you will have to suffer trough some Shoot.  but maybe, maybe you will end up not hating Root. hope dies last (idk how the saying goes in english, sorry). -- Did you ever ship Caresse (in a romantic way)? cause sometimes i do and sometimes i dont and i get so confused about it :) but i think most of the time i like them more as friends. anyway her death really sucked and you are right with (4)

her death and them losing the library it felt like a different show (i mean i guess it was a different show then). i kinda get your feelings about the destroyed library because i also really loved it (and im really bad with change) but i dont think it affected me as much as you. but yeah i still missed the library very much. and while the subway is a really cool new place its not the same. (also the subway is super dark cause its underground and idk it just makes the whole thing less homey) (5)

Yes he is everything! such a great, interesting character and i wish there were more John-centric episodes! (like ones that explored his character more). that was one of my biggest dislikes of the later seasons that John wasnt featured as much anymore. i think he chuckled a few times in the show but a real laugh? i cant remember one :(  -- He did promise Joss to talk to Tyler so @show were is that talk? -- if seen the vid its awesome! thehiddenmemory has some great poi vids! (6)

yes i think so too. Like Grace would probably be relived and thankful that Harold is still alive and maybe they would even try again but eventually she would figure out that she cant trust him after lying to him for so long or sth like that and Harold would ofc realize that he is in love with someone else now. And then he finds out that John is still alive but stayed away cause he didnt want to get in the way of Harold/Grace. But then Harold comes back. And when they meet again John is like (7)

you came back for the machine? what about Grace. But Harold tells him he came back for John not the machine and then they kiss and have a happy live with Bear (sorry i got a little carried away here :D). -- Yeah Zoe is really hot and she needed more screen time! -- i hope you have a good day and i hope i havent messed up the numbers on the asks! :)

Hi ! I'm finally free from the resits, I hope you're doing okay with your thesis 💛

Sorry for replying late, there was the exam resits, and I read a bunch of fics, then I fell into pokémon and started bingewatching it. (Also I had a breakdown during therapy today so I'm gonna finish writing my answer to distract myself - it's been sitting in my drafts for so long rip)

Thank you !! It was a very personal thing, I'm really happy you liked it !! Your support and your comment made me thrive 💛💛

Tbh I was surprised to see it get kudos given that the only intended audience was my self projecting ass 🤣

So, my fav fics (my fav fic ever is in French, rip to y'all bc it's so good):

I am, I am, I am by RavenWhitecastle

Actually check the entire series this work belongs to: The Sinner and the Saint. I haven't finished it yet but I love it (I just skipped the explicit fics bc I don't like smut or sub!John)

Breaking All The Rules by talkingtothesky

Outsider Perspective by Neery

A Really Private Person by astolat

Hamartia (the hero's fatal flaw) by astolat

If Only for Tonight by spacemutineer

From Here, Where? by AKMars

Stroll by TheaNishimori

and the world was gone by lunarcorvid

a light that never goes out by vindicatedtruth

Limitations. by Michaelssw0rd

Reel you in and spit you out by Michaelssw0rd

All I Want For Christmas Is You by richmahogany

By What Power I Am Made Bold by brinnanza

Aftershocks by darringtons

At Certain Hours It All Breaks Down by nogoaway

construction of a kingdom by the_ragnarok

You Take Me Higher Than I've Gone by talkingtothesky

All Together Now by beadedslipper

I'll Let the Waters Still by brinnanza

Birthday Tradition by talkingtothesky

Things My Father Taught Me by KRyn

Truth is in the Eye of the Beholder by infiniteeight

Better Luck This Time by Lisztful

Motivations by JenNova

What's On the Table by cortue

In Another Life by Della19

I Thought We Already Were by talkingtothesky

Misunderstandings by thisstarvingartist

This is already fucking long omg so for the h/c: my bookmarks filtered with Rinch and h/c

Here's my playlist, it's mostly Rinch, but there are a few not Rinch vids, plus some scenes I like

This is long enough already, so it's time for a read more. Also, warning, we be talking about suicide

The portrayal of suicide is cringe most of the time anyway. If my suicidal ass can find a list of suicide methods and their lethality in 2 mins on Google you'd think writers who are supposed to do some research would be able to find them too but no they're like "ah yes slicing wrists" even though it's literally the shittiest method 🙄 (I just don't understand why slicing wrists seems to be such a popular method in the collective imagination ? It's weird.) At least in 13rw she took aspirin and cut herself vertically instead of horizontally but still, no hesitation wounds, and she dies even though she only got 4 wounds iirc ? I know more about jumping off bridges than slicing wrists, but it kinda sounds like bullshit to me. Also Netflix once suggested "beyond the reasons" to me, it's a sort of discussion with the cast and crew of 13rw and the only thing I remember is a moment of intellectual masturbation abt how they "opened a discussion abt suicide" 😬😬😬

They may have cut it out it's not impossible, idk I didn't hear about it, but it's not like I look for info about this dumpster fire lol. Maybe they faced backlash ? Wouldn't be surprised given how shit the show was. And yeah it has a hopeless vibe, I mean that's how it be when you're suicidal, but I didn't like it either.

You're sweet 💜💜 it's interesting that you find it respectable or admirable, I don't have an external point of view, so I'm just like 🤷 it is what it is. I understand where you're coming from though, I guess it's still quite a taboo subject, and suicidal people don't always feel comfortable talking about it, so me throwing around that I jumped off a bridge must be surprising. I'm detached enough from my suicide attempt that I'm able to talk about it without much of a problem, and I'm not really suicidal anymore.

Dumb bitches unite 👏👏👏 we be out there reading shit we shouldn't read

Yeah I think it's nice how the show didn't portray Shaw as a bad person for not having "normal feelings". Well, hope makes one live as we say in French (idk the English saying either lol) but don't hold much hope about me liking Root lmao

I used to ship careese bc they kissed in the crossing, but then I read some Rinch fics and I just ended up falling into it to the point where I stopped caring about careese. Now I think their relationship works better as a friendship.

Yeah all that change really puts me off... It just gives me "bad spin-off" vibes. Especially since there is less John :( and less Rinch :((((

Lmao yeah I just have a lot of feelings about early poi hgkfglrk. Also :/ I'm sad about the subway being less homey pls I just want happiness ?? I swear this show destroys my heart on top of owning my last braincell (brb changing my blog title to this lmao)

Mood I need all the John-centric eps, give me m o r e characterization and development and backstory and feelings hhhhhhh. I love him so much I just wanna spend more time with him. And that's what fics are for ! Yeah thehiddenmemory is so talented ! Astolat made some good ones too, on top of writing really good fics ! (Our fandom has been blessed with the presence of one of the ao3 founders hell yeah)

Also, remember how we talked abt the poi subreddit ? The other day I left a comment on there, wild I know. It wasn't a discussion about the last seasons though, I'm not crazy, it was about the impact poi had in our lives so I said it literally taught me English. Who knows maybe sometimes I'll comment again lol. I just don't wanna meet one of those people who prefer late poi over early poi.

Allow me to uuuuh write something based on what you said. Don't ask me how John survived with no major injuries, my man got that Thick Plot Armor alright. Hope you appreciate me getting carried away sjdkdksk it's kinda rushed and the first part isn't that good bc idk how to write Grace I'm just here for that sweet sweet Rinch stuff

Harold is eating breakfast with Grace in her kitchen – he can't think of her home as his home – when his phone vibrates. It's a text from the machine. It's a surprise, she barely contacted him since... He blocks the thoughts and the images coming to his mind. The machine sent him a picture. When he opens it, his heart misses a beat. Right here on his screen is a silhouette he thought he would never see again. His phone vibrates again. Another picture, this time it's unmistakably John, wearing his signature suit, Bear next to him. Transfixed, he stares at his phone until he feels Grace gently touching his arm. She goes straight to the point.

"Is it John ?" He looks up in confusion, but before he can say anything, she adds, "I hear you call him in your sleep every night."

"It's him, yes." He doesn't want to explain. He only wants to see John, to touch him, to tell him how much he loves him.

"You should go back to him. I like you, Harold. I am deeply relieved to see you alive. But I've been thinking, and... It's not working. This, us... You aren't really the man I fell in love with, the man I grieved... I can't trust you anymore." She doesn't say 'You lied to me' but Harold hears it all the same.

~

Harold sits on their bench. The machine indicated John often comes here. Soon enough, his arms are full of Bear, and John is standing in front of him.

"John. How are you ?" he asks when Bear finally calms down.

"Busy. And you ?"

Harold eyes him suspiciously – John once said he was busy when he was bleeding and way too close to death – but he seems to be well.

"I'm fine." He doesn't have time for awkward small talk." I thought you were dead. Why didn't you contact me ?"

"The machine told me you were with Grace. I thought you wanted to come back to your previous life. I didn't want to crash into it and ruin what you had."

Harold wants to be angry at him, but he understands. He did the same with Grace.

"You would never ruin anything. Besides, my relationship with Grace... didn't survive my lies. She's very dear to my heart, but she's a part of my previous life, as you said."

"So you came back for the machine, and the numbers, like the good old times ?"

Harold gets up from the bench.

"I came back for you. You are an important part of my life. The most important part."

John smiles, finally. He takes a step towards Harold, they're so close they could kiss. Harold reaches out, grips his shirt and slowly inches closer. He's still afraid of being rejected but John wraps his arm around him and kisses him. The kiss is over too soon. John's smile is even wider when they part.

"You're the most important part of my life too," he says before kissing Harold again. "You will stay ?"

"Always."

Damn I live for sappy Rinch stuff.

Bitches decided that Harold saying "always" is peak Rinch. It's me I'm bitches.

Also ofc I had to make a reference to number crunch, who do you think I am

Anyway. I hope you have a good day ! 💛

[blahblahwritings]

When It Rains, It Pours.

A/N: Heres to pumping out bad writing to try and resuccitate the writer inside. This didn’t turn out how I wanted it to because the evidence points aren't really explained but whatever its getting late and I'm too tired to care. 

Words: 2103.

Warnings: Well its a criminal minds fic so murder mentions, drownings, abuse mentions, kidnapping the usual.

The past few weeks had been exhausting for the BAU team, with back to back cases they rarely had time away. Their current case involved an unsub who was drowning women in their 30s one a day for the past three days. With Spencer by your side, you made your way to the medical examiner to look at the bodies for further analysis.

The abrasions around the victims wrists and ankles showed they had been restrained with rope and struggled against the binds. There were scrapes and scratches on the heels that had pieces of concrete embedded into the skin meaning that they were kept somewhere possibly underground in an old abandoned building or factory or even in someone’s basement. Reid, your husband, continued examining the body of the third, most recent, victim as you read over the reports.

“It says here they were drowned and that their lungs contained traces of common fertilisers and pesticides. So we’re looking at a rogue farmer?” Your eyebrows furrowed slightly in question. You glanced out the window, the rain streaming down the panes of glass just as heavy as it had been the past few days.

“Most likely. Given the geographical profile of where the women were last seen and where their bodies were found there are three hundred and twelve point six square meters of farmland but the problem is pinpointing which area the unsub is working in because the fertilisers are so commonly used.” He replied without breaking focus from the body in front of him. A small smile found its way to your face, his knowledge always impressing you.

“Okay, Sherlock, so what are you thinking?” You asked, putting down the report and moving towards the table. He stood to his full height, turning to you with tired eyes. “That we should call Garcia, I’ll tell her what to search for and hopefully she can give us a lead.” He almost managed to finish his sentence without a yawn. Almost. “Well you can do that in the car, you look drained, I’ll drive.” You kissed his cheek as you took the keys from him, intertwining your fingers and guiding him through the office until you reached the exit.

-

The team were taking shifts, Reid, Rossi and Kate were asleep in the hotel around the corner from the precinct while Hotch, Morgan, JJ and yourself worked on the case. You had dropped Reid off before driving through the storm to get a round of coffee to bring back to the rest of the team, your own tiredness starting to set deep into your bones. It was 11:30pm and the white noise of rain wasn’t doing anything for your sleepy state but the promise off coffee kept you from turning around and going straight back to the hotel for some much needed Zs.

You parked up outside the first 24hour coffee place you saw, ordering four of the strongest drinks they had. The lights were blinding in comparison to the streetlights outside but you stood, patiently waiting for your order. The only other customers were what looked to be two construction workers in hi-vis jackets, probably form the road works a little while back. They sat at a table in the corner, almost asleep until the guy at the counter shouted their order, causing them to startle awake. A few minutes passed and your order was called. Collecting the cup holder you jogged back to your car, opening the passenger-side door and setting them down on the seat.

As you started to walk to the drivers side, you shot a text to JJ telling her you’d be about five minutes, getting soaked in the process. Rounding the back of the car you bumped into a man, dropping your phone. Alarms sounded in your head, every muscle kicking into action as you took several steps back, a guarded look on your features. He was in his forties, well-built and had at least a foot on you with a face like clay, pushed and pulled and contorted. His boots were covered in mud and his jeans had dirt on the knees. Your phone was behind him. Your gun in the car.

Three strides and he was on you. As you opened your mouth to scream, he covered your mouth with a cloth, the sound muffling and the pungent smell of chloroform filling your nose. You held your breath and tried to fight, flinging elbows and feet behind you in a futile attempt to break free. Your last thought as you started to go limp was Spencer. Then it was dark.

-

It had been over an hour since JJ received the text from you. After her calls kept going to answer phone, Morgan had left with Hotch to try and find your car, tracking the GPS location of the vehicle to the parking lot you’d been taken in. JJ rang Reid once they had confirmed you were missing with your phone found smashed near your unlocked car. By the time he and the others arrived at the station, Morgan and Hotch had sent the security camera footage to the precinct. Spencer stood staring at the screen, fear manifesting in every fibre of his being as the only image was of your struggle against a man clearly much larger than you then your body drooping as you passed out. His vision blurred, his mind somehow coming to a standstill, unable to move or breathe.

“Spence.. Reid” JJ shook him gently. He didn’t flinch, instead turned slowly to his friend with tears in his eyes, hair messy from his hands running through it over and over. “We’re gonna find her, I promise.” But the words didn’t seem to process in the genius’ mind. Right now, all he could think about was the slim chance that you’d get out of this alive. His jaw clenched, a look of anger took over his usually soft features before he started working on the case again. He wouldn’t let you die like this, he refused. He needed you by his side and he would stop at nothing to ensure your safe return.

-

The first thing you felt was the sting of your feet being scraped against the floor, then the ache in your arms and shoulders as you realised you were being dragged by the rope binding your wrists down dark, cold hallway. You were still groggy from being drugged and couldn’t bring yourself to fight against the unsub but you tried your best, pulling at the binds. Your kidnapper grunted in response, the attempts not concerning him in the slightest. He picked you up, lying you in something cold and smooth then tying you down so you couldn’t escape. You shook yourself further awake.

“Who are you and why are you doing this.” You mumbled, the words tumbling carelessly from your lips. No response. A calloused hand found its way to your face, his thumb rubbed against your cheekbone and a whimper was heard from beside you. “What’s wrong?” You tried showing sympathy but still got nothing in return. The room was pitch black and you could only make out his silhouette. He stood, walking somewhere out of sight before you heard a door shut and lock. Your head lay back against the hard material behind you, arms hanging above and your legs folded over some kind of edge. You felt anything you could get your hands on and found you were tied to a thin pipe of some sort but nothing really became any clearer.  

A loud metallic clang sounded above you and freezing water rained down on you, soaking your already damp clothes. The light from the opening revealed you were lying in a bathtub, hands by the taps and your legs bound so you couldn’t move. You jumped at the sudden drop in temperature. Panic rose in you and you started thrashing around but to no avail. You were trapped. The only spark of hope was that the team would find you. That Spence would find you.

-

“Okay so I analysed the footage and ran it through different software and it looks as though our unsub is about 6’4” and built like a bull but thats all I can find.” Garcia’s voice rang out through the tinny speakers of the phone.

“Alright babygirl, I’m gonna need you to look for men in their mid thirties to forties who possibly works on a farm or lived on one as a kid.” Morgan began. “Yeah that’s only the entire population of the town you’re in, c’mon I need more than that.” She quipped.

“Crosscheck that with a history of violence against women or a history of abuse during childhood, the victims are a surrogate for a woman in his past possibly a parental figure as they all share similar physical attributes.” Spencer added, his brain spitting out words quicker than Garcia could really process. Rapid typing could be heard on the other end of the phone a moment after.

“Oh good doctor you are brilliant, there are two men who fit the criteria and live in the comfort zone, one being Mr. James Bailor, a 38 year old farmer who has been arrested on three accounts of domestic violence against his wife. He lives on the farm, recently ordered a batch of the same fertiliser found in the victims’ lungs and lived on a farm with his aunt at the age of eight due to abuse from his parents.” She explained before continuing. “The other is Mr. Grant O’Connor, a 43 year old farmer with a long list of felonies consisting almost entirely of beating on women and drug use. His mother died a week ago but he was taken into care at a young age because… oh my god… she tried to drown him in a tub when he was just six years old claiming his birth defects were ‘against god’ and he should be ‘cleansed and sent straight back to hell’.” She finished breathless, their backgrounds clearly upsetting her.

“Thats him. Thats our unsub.” Reid declared, grabbing his gun from the table as he stood. “Whats his address?” He asked, shaking with too many emotions to count. There were two, one being his current home and the other being the farm his mother used to live in. The team leapt into action, speeding off to the latter address.

-

The water had reached your chin, the shivering long subsided as hypothermia took over your body. You couldn’t remember when you had begun to sob, the hot tears a sharp contrast against the coldness of your skin. “PLEASE.” You wept, hopeless. “Just let me out.” Your voice broke. Exhaustion had washed over your body a long time ago, the lack of sleep, the drugs and the cold all beating you down and preventing you from fighting with any real strength.

The water continued to rise and as it reached your nose you flailed about in the water, managing to get very little air. Then the unsub came in, wrapping his hands around your throat and pushing you down into the water as you fought. A loud siren pierced the noise of the room, startling the unsub but he kept you under. You held your breath for as long as possible but you could only do so much. The door to the room burst open, slamming against the wall, muted voices shouted but your world started to fade, your hearing going too.

A shot rang out and the water turned red. You kicked your legs and felt someone cut the ropes at your wrists free, pulling your top half out of the water. Coughing up the water you’d taken in, you gasped and clawed at the body lifting you out of the water, horrified cries the only thing left to leave your mouth. Two arms wrapped around your torso which you quickly identified as Spencer’s.

“Sh sh shhh. You’re alright, I’ve got you, love, you’re safe.” He cooed, trying to calm you down as well as himself. You curled into him, sobs wracking your body as you gripped onto his shirt. You thought that you’d die here, never to see him again, never to see your friends or family. The horror and anxiety snapped your chest in two, breathing becoming even more difficult as you broke down in his arms.

“I’m never letting you out of my sight again, I love you so much, I’m so sorry. It’s okay now. It’s okay.. It’s okay…” His voice broke as he too cried, repeating those two words as you rocked back and forth.