#but over there I'd be homesick for here and here I'm homesick for there it's never going to stop :c

[pearl-kite]

The worst thing about living very far from home for a few years is that, once you've done it, you'll always be homesick for somewhere

[neon-angels-system]

I'm having a Moment, huh?

[katya-goncharov]

ohhh i wish i was at home :(

[trashcanfanfics]

might I request some headcanons for ford (young and old) w/ a reader who’s a witch (like from the boiling isles) and has their own place in the woods? they’re known as the witch of the woods and there are stories from local teens about how they’ll “steal your bones if you get too close to their house,” but they’re actually really nice and will make you lunch if you stop by.

please, and thank you 🔮

Man, do I love this idea!! I immediately started thinking of a little ficlet/imagine/scenario

Reader gender not mentioned, could be any gender

This turned out longer than I thought it would

I'd exiled myself to earth a bit ago in response to the ban on wild witches. It was easier for me to leave than to fight back then. I could probably go back anytime, but I'd rather not be forced to pick one coven.

It wasn't all bad here. The rain didn't burn, plants didn't move on their own or try to eat me. I loved the green color of the landscape and my palisman, Gretch, enjoyed the fresh air. The locals were friendly enough, and the children were curious.

I'd noticed that they were wary of me and my strange abilities. To combat this, I'd just make warm beverages and small meals for anyone traveling farther into the woods near my little cabin.

It was on my way home from the human store that I met him. A man stuck in the root of a tree. One of mine, unfortunately. In a moment of homesickness, I'd planted a seed from the Boiling Isles near my home, and this particular one was a grasping willow. A sigh escaped me, loud enough for my surprise captive to hear. He turned towards me, seeming to forget his foot was stuck, causing him to fall over. The man winced.

"I'm sorry for my tree, sir." I swirled my pointer finger into a circle of green. The root lifted and moved from his ankle. "He's just a bit playful." I set my bags down to offer him my hand. He hesitated, looking at my hand before reaching up and taking the offered help. Once he was up, I shook his hand with a smile and introduced myself.

"Nice to meet you," he quickly took his hand back and cleared his throat, "my name is Stanford Pines, though people call me Ford."

"Wonderful to meet you, Ford." I picked my bags back up and faced him again. "I have groceries to put away, so I have to go. Try walking in a wide circle to avoid Snipper if you're walking around here."

"Oh, uh, thank you for the advice." He waved awkwardly and turned to leave. I chuckled slightly and went on my own way. Gretch sniffed the air in his direction before hiding back into my cloak. They whispered to me about the stranger's smell as I walked back home.

~*~

Ford came around more often after that. He asked many questions, and I answered. I asked fewer questions but received more answers. He was eager to talk and learn, and I was grateful for the company. Ford became a part of my routine in the best way. We'd meet up for lunch at either mine or his cabin and tell me what he's found. His theories enthralled me. I'd developed quite the soft spot for him and missed him when he wasn't around. My palisman teased me endlessly about it, but stopped once I'd mention how they liked to curl up on his lap as he talked.

He'd started coming around less and less. I wondered what new oddity he was occupied with to take up all his time. Gretch had been keeping watch over him and hadn't seen much since they couldn't get into the cabin. Whenever he did visit, he was...distant. There were bags beneath his eyes, an erratic fear, and paranoia took over his voice, even when it was just a whisper. I was worried and told him as such. He'd stood abruptly from the living room couch, making poor Gretch leap to the floor, and looked at me for the first time in months.

"There's nothing to be worried about. I'm fine, everything's fine!" His eye twitched. I blinked a few times in shock at his outburst. My hands flew up in a placating manner.

"Okay, okay," I lowered my hands and held them out to him palm up, "how about I make you your favorite tea, hm?" His eyes lowered to my hands before placing his own in them. I gently squeezed his hands for exactly six seconds before standing up and leading him to the kitchen. He followed me as I moved around to make the tea. Gretch stayed close to him, attempting to comfort him. The kettle boiled and I pulled it off before the whistle blew. We both watched the tea steep for a few seconds before Ford wrapped me in a hug from behind. His head rested against me as he shook.

~*~

"I think...I think I did something very bad, and you won't forgive me." His voice cracked. I looked up from the soup I was serving to look at him. He was looking at his hands.

"I suppose that's a valid concern. Although, I can't say whether I would or wouldn't if I don't know what it is." I set the ladle down and grabbed the tray holding the bowls. "For what it's worth, there is very little you can do that I wouldn't be able to forgive." I set the tray on the table and set a bowl in front of him, then Gretch's, before sitting down my with my own.

"I..." He stared at the soup. "I care for you deeply, and I don't want you to be mixed up in my mistakes." His eyes were tired when they looked at me. My breath caught in my chest as I stared back. My palisman stopped slurping to to look up at both me and Ford.

"Is that what you're asking me to forgive? You caring deeply for me?" I looked down at my own soup, stirring it slightly. My heart raced as his words filled my mind. "If that's a thing in need of forgiveness, then I beg for yours in return." I look back at him with a small smile. His brow furrowed.

"That's not the point I'm making." Ford ran a hand through his hair and rubbed his forehead. "I've made a mistake that could put you in danger. Out of everything that's happened to me, you've been the best. I don't want to lose you." He pulled out a book from his bag. One of his journals. He slid the book over to me. Gretch leaned over the tray to sniff it before recoiling. I blinked and looked at him.

"Ford, what--" I was cut off by him rounding the table and kneeling beside me. He grabbed my hands in both of his and looked me in the eye, more serious than he'd ever been with me. Gretch, wanting a better view, crawled over the table to be beside me.

"Take this journal and hide it. Take it as far from here as possible. Go and never come back. Please." His voice trembled. "I don't want him to get you."

"Who? Who is going to get me? What aren't you telling me?" I pulled my hands from his to hold his face, tears brimming my eyes. "Ford, tell me what's going on, why do I have to leave? What will happen to you once I do?" Tears poured down my face as I bit back a sob. I'd been so worried about him, about why he'd been so distant. Then he was asking me to leave. Leave Gravity Falls, my home, the only person besides my palisman I trusted fully with all my heart. I didn't want to go.

"I can't tell you. Please, believe me, it's safer this way." Ford reached for my face, eyes flitting back between my own. He leaned in and kissed me softly, barely a whisper on my lips. My eyes shut, allowing more tears to fall. I pushed into him, wrapping an arm around his shoulder, and deepened the kiss.

"I can't leave you." I said against his lips as we both pulled back slightly. I kissed him again. "I can't leave you, Ford." Our foreheads were pressed against each other.

"You have to." He pulled away and stood up. He grabbed his bag and turned to leave. Gretch chased after him immediately. I watched him go for a second, tears still falling down my face, before grabbing the book, and running after him. Grabbing the strap of his bag, I pulled him back.

"If you're going, then take this with you. I won't be part of something i don't know about." I shoved the book into his chest and glared at him through my tears. He looked at the book and then me before steeling his gaze. He shoved the book back into his bag and left. The front door closed, and I made my way back to the kitchen, Gretch following sadly behind. The soup had gone cold.

~*~

We hadn't spoken in a month. Four weeks. Thirty days. I went to his cabin to see him but his friend, Fiddleford McGucket, was on his way out and warned me to stay away from Ford.

"For your own sake." He said, rushing to his truck, bags in tow. "He's gone insane." I'd still knocked on his door for the next week. No reply. Gretch continued to keep an eye out and told me whatever they deemed relevant.

The next three I wallowed in my grief. Moping around the house, not taking care of my plants, or myself. I could barely brush my teeth or eat. My body odor followed me like a cloud. Days blurred together. Gretch tried to help me, but they were just as upset. Eventually, I had to go out to get more groceries.

On the way to the store, in my sweatpants, hooded sweater and muddy boots, I passed by Ford's cabin flying low to the ground on Gretch. As I looked towards it, my heart clenching painfully, the trees began to shake. I looked around in confusion as Gretch and I slowed to a stop. Then back to the cabin. The basement windows lit up a bright blue. Before I could stop myself, I flew straight towards the door, using my magic to unlock it. Bursting into the foyer, down the steps to the basement, I saw two figures.

There was Ford and someone else who looked like him. Stanley, his twin brother. Ford had told me about him. Ford was floating in the air, waving his limbs around, trying not to get pulled into a giant machine glowing with the light I'd seen outside.

"Ford!" I yelled, running to help him. Gretch almost reached him as he screamed his brother's name. He was sucked into the portal faster than I could cast a spell. "FORD!" I fell to my knees in front of the portal, next to where Stanley was standing. He was gone. My tears became my closest friends in the past weeks. These ones felt different. They hurt more, like daggers down my cheeks. He was gone. My friend, the one I adored and trusted the most. Gone. I sobbed out his name again, looking at the ground, Getch placed their head into my lap.

"Uh, are you...Did you...know my brother?" The voice made me jump. I turned to Stanley. I'd forgotten he was here in my anguish. I sniffed and wiped my face on my sleeve.

"Yes. He was my friend."

~*~

Ford had been gone for 30 years. After he'd been taken through the portal, Stan and I began a sort of friendship. He was brash and rude, his voice was gruff. He was different from Ford in so many ways, but so similar. Our friendship wasn't like the one with Ford. It was less lunch dates and more I'd bring him meals and take him shopping.

He'd convinced a crowd of shoppers that he was the mysterious scientist in the cabin while he was shopping by himself one day. I'd gotten very angry at him and refused to talk to him for a week after that. Eventually, I came around to it, realizing that he does need to make money somehow.

In time, the "Mystery Shack", as Stan called it, became quite profitable. People were attracted to its unbelievable aura. Personally, I found most of Stan's grotesque attractions to feel like home. I'd known someone who looked like the "Eyeball with Legs" back in the Boiling Isles. Gretch was glad Stan never asked them to be an exhibit. Sometimes, I feel as though Stan took inspiration from my stories.

It was summer when the twins came to Gravity Falls. Stan told me I wasn't allowed to do magic or talk to them about the strangeness in our little town. I told him that I wasn't going to hide who I was from anyone, and if he had a problem with it, don't let them go out by my cabin. We had a heated argument about that. I had resolved to not speak, or even go looking for him or anyone from the Shack that whole summer.

Of course, that didn't stop them from looking for me. Apparently, Ford had written about me in his third journal, and Dipper had stumbled across it. It lead them both to my doorstep with a gentle knock on the door.

"Hello?" As I opened the door, I saw two children, tweens, it seemed. The girl was holding a video camera at my face. "Oh!" They looked familiar almost.

"Uh, hi, uh..." The boy ruffled through a familiar book. I realized then who I must've been talking to. This must be Dipper and Mabel. The Pines' genetics must have been strong, they looked just like their great uncles. "Are you the witch of the woods?" His question made me laugh slightly. Gretch poked their head out the door to sniff at the children, causing the girl to gasp and coo at them, holding a hand out. I debated telling them both to leave, but it had been a while since I'd had company. Besides, it was getting a bit dark, and the woods were dangerous for children to go out into.

"That's what the townsfolk call me, yes." I gestured for them to come inside. "Would you like some tea?" The girl quickly came in with an excited smile. She was already petting and baby-talking Gretch. I chuckled.

"Oh, you're so cute! What's your name?" She looked around my living room and gasped. "I love your curtains!" She raced over to touch them before her brother stopped her, scolding her in a hushed tone. I smiled at them before going into the kitchen with Gretch in tow. They followed soon after.

"I'm not going to eat you, despite what the other children might say." I grabbed three tea cups and started the stove. "I don't do much other than tend to my plants and feed hikers that come by." I placed teabags into a teapot.

"So you're...not a witch?" The boy asked. I laughed again and ushered them to sit at the table. The girl gasped at the center piece. A lovely potted plant of flowers Ford had gifted me a long time ago. They were spring flowers, so they had stopped blooming. I smiled fondly at them.

"What kind of plant is this?" She touched the leaves gently. "It's so pretty."

"They're called shooting stars." I swirled my pointer finger in a green circle, causing the flowers to glow green as well and bloom. Gretch sniffed them, then sneezed. "They're normally a spring flower, but I'm able to keep them going with the sunroof in place and a bit of magic.

"So you are a witch!" The boy yelled. The kettle whistled and I quickly went to stop it. "This is incredible! Mabel! Did you catch that on video?" His sister, Mabel, looked at the camera, which had been placed facing away from the plant, towards a window.

"Whoops." She fixed the camera to face the flowers, which had ceased glowing and sat, bloomed, but otherwise non magical. He groaned in frustration and looked at me.

"Would you do that again? For the camera?" He gestured to the technology. I finished making the tea and brought it over, giving them each a cup.

"I would," I sat down in my own chair, "but the flowers are already bloomed, dear." I took a sip and set it back down. Looking at him with a small smile full of humor. Gretch huffed in their form of laughter. Ford had always called me a smart ass.

"Darnit!" He put his head on the table. Mabel reached over and patted his back before taking a sip of her tea. She hummed in delight at the taste and finished the cup in a few gulps. I offered her more, which she gladly accepted, drinking more before scratching Gretch on the head. The palisman leaned into her hand.

"I could do something else for your, oh, what are you needing the footage for, Dipper?" My question made his head shoot up. He looked at me in surprise. I realized that I'd called him his name before he'd told me.

"How do you know my name?" His eyes widened. "Do you read minds?" I was already shaking my head before he finished. Gretch huffed another laugh.

"I know your uncle, is all." I held my hand up to stop both of their questions. "Stan and I are, well, I suppose you could call us friends."

"Are you two in a relationship? Are you in love?" Mabel stood on her chair, her hands planted on the table as she leaned towards me. I scrunched my face in slight disgust even thinking about being with Stan. My palisman sneezed and shook their head.

"Absolutely not." I huffed and rolled my eyes. "Not even if he begged." The very idea of Stan being who I came home to made me very uncomfortable. Besides...I still dreamed of Ford. I regretted that our first and only kiss was when he was leaving. Maybe if I'd been braver in the beginning, said something sooner, he'd still be here. Maybe it'd have chased him away earlier than he did.

"Um, witch...sir? Ma'am? Sma'mir?" Mabel's voice drew me out of my reverie. I blinked and looked at her. She tilted her head in confusion.

"Pardon, I was leagues away. Did you say something, dear?" I looked at the clock to see the time. "Oh, that might have to wait. You two need to get home." I stood and ushered them to the living room where I grabbed my warmest shawls. They would have to do, my coats were buried in the hall closet. I wrapped one around Mabel, as she was the closest, so that it covered her head. when I turned to do the same to Dipper, he refused.

"I'll be fine, I don't need it." He held up his hands and I put mine on my hips. My eyebrow arched as I gave him a look that said this wasn't an argument. Gretch went behind him and gently nudged him towards me.

"It gets cold at night, especially in the woods." I quickly threw it over his shoulders and over his head like his sister. Mabel giggled as she pointed the camera at us. Dipper's frown deepened as his cheeks reddened. "I won't have you catch a chill on my watch. It'll just be another thing for Stan to b-ahem, yell about." With them properly bundled, I wrapped myself up and had Gretch turn into a staff. Both children gasped.

"I definitely got that on video." Mabel said as I waved them both to get on. Mabel in front of me and Dipper behind, I took off, up and over the trees. The twins both yelled out, though I suspected for different reasons.

As we walked up the porch, the door swung open to reveal Stan himself. He looked from both of the twins then to me. His eyes darkened slightly.

"I told you not to talk to them!" He pushed them both behind him and pointed a finger at me. "You said you wouldn't!" His glare matched mine. I pushed his hand out of my face and lifted my chin.

"Children, cover your ears." I spared them a glance to see them do so. My finger replaced his between us. "They were deep in those damn woods at dusk! I wouldn't have had to take them home if you had been doing your fucking job of keeping them safe! No wonder they're up to their goddamned knees in the supernatural of this fucking town!"

"How much did you tell them, what did you tell them?!" He got closer to me, dangerously so. I pointed my palisman staff towards him as a barrier. "So help me, if you told them-!" That made me scoff.

"Oh, please, I didn't tell them anything." I scoffed and waved my other hand to dismiss the thought. "Do you have such little faith in me? After all these years?" A sigh left my lips as I shook my head.

"Just stay away from them!" He pointed a finger at me again. "They don't need to be involved with all this weirdness." His statement made me roll my eyes and I turned to leave.

"They're already too invested in the weirdness, Stanley." I turned my head to look back at him over my shoulder, mounting my palisman. "They won't end up like him in one summer, but if you're that worried, keep them out of the woods." With that, I took off into the sky.

~*~

The children clearly didn't listen to Stan, if he told them to stay away from me. They came around my home every few days or so, asking me about myself and the woods surrounding. I'd been vague about my friendship with Ford, for Stan's sake if nothing else. Gretch enjoyed their company, especially Mabel's. She would bring the palisman snacks and plenty of affection. Waddles and Gretch became fast friends when the pig was brought along as well.

Mabel had latched onto my story of him and was sobbing by the time I'd told her he was gone and I'd never see him again. Dipper also seemed disappointed, wanting to meet the scientist. He'd asked if I was talking about the author of the journals. I'd told him no. Gretch whined at that, clearly frustrated I wouldn't tell them anything. I just shooed her away.

They told me about their adventures and a figure named Bill. I'd sat eagerly by, hearing about their encounters. They had been in danger multiple times over the summer and I'd nearly gone to shout at Stan some more before they said they didn't want him to know. I explained to them that not telling Stan was a mistake. He is their guardian for the summer and needed to know where they were so he could help if needed. They disagreed and went home. I'd asked Gretch to watch over them for a while to make sure they weren't in too much danger.

It was sometime after Mabel's sock opera when the kids invited me over. Well, more Mabel did, with Stan's permission. Though the man had been rather grumpy over the phone. I was amused by Mabel's antics and agreed, soon making my way over there. Gretch sniffed the air and shook their head, rubbing their nose.

"Oh hush, I'm sure Stan can't stink that bad from out here." I joked before knocking on the door. "Should we invest in nose plugs for you?" The door opened before they could retort. Mabel squealed when she saw me and pulled me into the cabin and to the living room.

"You're going to love this guy, trust me," She squealed again, "I'm a master match maker." I laughed at her enthusiasm. She was determined to have me meet someone. The only time she'd stopped was when she'd found out Stan had a crush on Lazy Susan.

"Mabel, I've told you already that I'm perfectly fine on my own. I really should stop ind--" I looked up to see the unfortunate suitor this time. My eyes widened and my heart stopped. I knew the figure instantly. Despite the wrinkles, my dreams made sure I'd never forget his face. "Ford?" His eyes widened as he recognized me. He said my name in a whisper. Gretch wasted no time in throwing themselves at him, circling and sniffing and bumping into him. He huffed a laugh and pet them gently.

"I didn't forget you either." He looked up from the palisman back to me. "I'd thought you'd have left Gravity Falls." His other hand twitched, as if he wanted to touch me. I couldn't hold back, I ran to him and wrapped him in a hug. The tears that had been building up overflowed.

"I told you I couldn't." I felt his arms slowly hug me back. He squeezed me gently and buried his face into my neck. I gave him one more squeeze before pulling back slightly to look up at him. Our eyes met and I smiled brighter than I'd had in years. He returned the gesture. "I'm glad you're back." Tears continued to slide down my face and I sniffed.

"You knew each other?!" Mabel's voice broke us both out of our little bubble. "What?!" She turned to Dipper, who'd just walked in, and shook him by his shoulders screaming about how this is a better story than the Dusk series. Dipper, having pulled himself from his sister's grasp, looked at me and Ford, still in an embrace. Mabel ran out of the room to go tell Stan.

"...When I asked if the person you were talking about was the author of the journals..." He furrowed his brows. I hesitantly pulled myself fully from Ford's arms and cleared my throat.

"I lied, yes." My hand was already up to stop him from asking questions or comment on my dishonesty. "Stan had asked me not to, it would have caused problems if you knew." The boy looked displeased with my answer.

"That's what Grunkle Stan said, too." He crossed his arms. "It's stupid! If we knew, we could have helped rebuild the portal and get Great Uncle Ford back!" His statement had Ford opening his mouth, but I was faster.

"Now, that's enough, young man!" I put one hand on my hip and pointed a finger at him. He jumped and his eyes widened. I'd never raised my voice at either of the twins before. "Stan is a ridiculously infamous liar, but this time he did out of necessity. You weren't there to see what happened after Ford was sucked into that portal, he was dealing with the grief of losing his brother and while I'm going to have very strong words with him out of earshot of you kids about rebuilding that machine, it's understandable how he went about things." Gretch sneezed, huffed and then looked away. I raised an eyebrow at them and put my other hand on my other hip. They gazed right back at me and yawned before laying down nonchalantly. I rolled my eyes. They never truly liked Stan. Ford laughed slightly at mine and Gretch's wordless exchange. I turned to him with a slight smile and a raised eyebrow. He only shook his head fondly.

"You're defending him?" Dipper stuck up his chin, ignoring the palisman. "I thought you guys didn't like each other..." A sigh escaped me at that. I crossed the room, pulled out a chair to the card table before sitting down. Ford followed to stand next to me, my heart swelled at the thought that he was here. Actually back.

"Stan and I don't always see eye to eye," I began, watching Dipper join me at the table, "but, well, I helped him for the first few months after the incident. With the portal, I mean. We looked through the research we had to figure it out."

"You helped with that?" Ford looked incredulous. "Why? It was dangerous!" His outburst made me look at him with a huff. Gretch snuffed out a laugh and made themself comfortable on the old yellow chair.

"I was getting to that." This seemed to placate him as he closed his mouth and cleared his throat in embarrassment. "Anyway, I had been helping him, reading through the only journal we had, before I'd looked at everything and used my oracle abilities to try and track down any others. I'd had a vision in my crystal of what would happen if I helped further and told Stan what I'd seen."

"I'm guessing he didn't believe you?" Dipper asked, rolling his eyes. I smiled at how the resemblance he had to Stan in that moment.

"He rolled his eyes just like that when I told him. Stan's always been a stubborn bas--ahem, man." I snickered, glancing at Ford and winking when our eyes met. His face reddened "It's a family trait, I've noticed."

"I'd hardly call myself stubborn." Ford crossed his arms and looked away. "It's not stubbornness when you're right." His defensiveness made me bark out a laugh. His face deepened in color as he refused to look at me.

"Okay, and when you told him what would happen and he didn't believe you, you stopped helping?" Dipper put his arms on the table and leaned towards me, eagerly waiting for the rest of the story.

"Well...not exactly." I looked off to the side, thinking how to phrase my words. "I mean, I stopped helping with the portal, yes, but I stayed until the Shack became more popular. In the beginning of the change, I understood needing the money, but the more ridiculous it became, the more I felt like it was wrong. We'd gotten into a huge fight over it. There's been tension ever since."

"So you and Gruncle Stan were never together?" Mabel's voice made me jump. I looked to see her sitting on the floor and Stan leaning against the yellow chair Gretch had fallen asleep in. He looked at Mabel in confusion. I rubbed my hand on my forehead and sighed.

"Mabel. I've told you this." I looked at Stan and scrunched my nose, he rolled his eyes, his arms crossed. "I have never, and I mean ever, considered Stan anything more than an unlikely friend." I looked at her and shook my head.

"Yeah, they're not my type anyway." He snickered. It was my turn to roll my eyes before crossing my own arms. I raised my eyebrows at him.

"Yes, his type is anything twenty years younger and doesn't have enough wits to realize he isn't as funny as he thinks he is." I smirked at the indignant noise he made at my jab. "Or a spider." My last comment made Dipper and Mabel laugh as Stan's face grew red.

"Hey! She didn't look like a spider at the time!" He grumbled and looked back down at Gretch, poking them to try and get them to move. They growled in response. "How do you even know about that?" He looked at the kids and then grumbled under his breath again.

"Besides," I looked at Mabel, "I have my eye on only one person. I have since I first met him." Her eyes sparkled as she looked between me and Ford. Dipper looked exasperated.

"Is he Great Uncle Ford?!" She stood up and pointed at us both. I chuckled at her enthusiasm. Ford looked at her, his mouth agape and cheeks red. Dipper rolled his eyes, but seemed interested as he eyed both me and Ford with interest.

"Yes." I smiled at him as he already opened his mouth, words spilling out before he could register what I said.

"That's hardly an appropriate thing to say--" He stopped and looked at me. "Did you say yes?" He was staring at me in amazement. I could see Stan gagging in my peripheral vision. Mabel giggled and Dipper started writing down on a piece of paper.

"I did." I raised my eyebrow at Ford. "Did you forget about that kiss? I'm a bit insulted." He blinked and cleared his throat, looking away. His face was so red, I thought he was going to faint from the blood rush.

"No!" He cleared his throat again. "No, I just...I didn't think..." His gaze softened and he reached out to cup my face. I leaned in, keeping eye contact as he rubbed a thumb over my cheek. My hand reached up and held his there.

"Ugh, gross. Get a room." We both looked at Stan who gagged again. "At least take it outside." I rolled my eyes again and stood up, bringing Ford's hand from my face to hold between us. He looked at me as I reached up my own hand to bring his face closer to mine. At long last, I kissed him. He made a muffled noise of surprise but quickly leaned into the kiss. Stan and Dipper both groaned as Mabel cheered. I pulled back and looked Ford in the eyes.

"I wish I'd told you sooner," I leaned in and gave him another kiss, "I love you Stanford Pines."

~*~

Weirdmageddon had been concluded, the twins, both sets, safe and sound. Dipper and Mabel had their birthday before saying goodbye. I'd cried as I hugged them. They'd each received a charm of good luck. Ford and Stan had decided to sail around the world, inviting me to join them. I'd told them I'd let them catch up for a few years before setting sail with them. I'd be here when they came back during the summers.

"Are you sure? We don't mind, really." Ford had encouraged, but I shook my head with a smile. Stan shrugged his shoulders with a small smile.

"Yeah, it'd be nice to have a powerful witch aboard." He smacked a hand on my shoulder. I laughed and patted his hand. He moved it back to his side.

"I'm sure you boys can handle yourselves. Besides, I've waited this long." I looked at Stan then Ford. Gretch huffed and sat firmly next to Ford, daring me to try and stop her from going. "Fine by me, Gretch. Go on with them, I'll see you in a few years."

"It doesn't have to be years..." Ford looked down at them with a sheepish smile. "You could join us at the end of next summer." Stan gave a noise of agreement.

"Yeah!" Stan gave me a nudge. "It'd be nice to catch up with you, too." We had gained some of our friendship back during the apocalypse and I was glad for it. I smiled and shook my head fondly.

"Alright, fine." They both smiled at my confirmation. "Send me letters in the meantime." Stan agreed and went to say one more goodbye to his protege, Soos, before getting the car. Gretch huffed and walked off, deciding to stay with me after all. Ford stepped closer to me, gently cupping my face in one of his hands. We both leaned in and kissed. Stan drove up and honked the horn, causing us to reluctantly part.

"I promise to write." He gave me one more kiss before getting into the car and they both drove off. I kept waving until they were out of sight.

"See you next summer." I said before heading back home with Gretch. My heart felt full.

[ibetonlosinghuskies]

patience and pleasure pt 6

summary: as paige packs to move to uconn, she starts to doubt herself. grasping for a sense of security, she goes to the one person she knows can make her feel better. azzi.

disclaimer: as always everything i write is fictional!

warnings: fluff, angst, emotional distress, mild anxiety mention.

word count: 4.6k +

author's note: ik this probably isn't what you were expecting lol, very sorry. i will be giving yall what you want very soon.

~flashback to july 2020~

paige's pov:

i can't believe i'm doing this.

playing at uconn has been my dream since i was a kid, but now that it's finally happening i feel paralyzed. packing my stuff made things feel final.

i'm really leaving minnesota. everything i know is here.

who's going to build legos with drew? who's going to make my parents coffee in the morning?

my hands shake as i fold another shirt, memories flooding my mind. friday night games, late-night drives with the team, sunday morning cartoons with drew.

what if i'm not ready? what if i can't handle the pressure?

i'd been doing a good job keeping all this to myself. putting on my best smile for every interview, every photoshoot. i had a good enough support system too, my family, friends, fans. but behind every "congratulation", i felt their expectation. a standard of perfection only a prodigy could fulfill.

what if i let everyone down?

i can't let them see me crack.

it's not like i'm not grateful for the opportunity. this is all i've worked towards for years. it just hurts to leave everything behind, especially for a future i had no control over. i felt safe here, in this moment, i'm full of potential.

the weight of my potential weighs heavily on my shoulders, keeping me up at night.

i sink to the floor, surrounded by half-packed boxes. part of me wants to unpack it all, to pretend that time isn't moving forward.

my eyes snap up when i hear a knock at my bedroom door.

"hey kiddo," my dad says warmly, leaning against the door frame.

"hey," i reply weakly, putting on a smile. i feel his eyes scan my face, his expression warming with sympathy.

he knows my smile is fake.

"already packing? you don't leave for another week, it shouldn't take you that l—" he stops mid-sentence looking at my closet. "but with that shoe collection maybe you should've started a month ago," he teases, trying to make me smile.

"i just want to be ready," i say, sounding more insecure than i expected.

"it's okay to be scared, you know?" he starts, his voice gentle. "i know this is a big change."

"i just don't wanna disappoint anyone," i stand, continuing to pack my stuff, eyes glued to the floor.

"you could never disappoint us," he assures me. "we're all so proud of you, no matter what."

a mix of gratitude and homesickness rushes over me. i crumble over his words, a few tears escaping my eyes. walking slowly, he grabs me in his arms. we stand there for a moment, the heaviness of change lingering in the air.

"you know," he says suddenly, "i think azzi's still in town at her grandparents. why don't you give her a call?"

he's right, i usually visit her around this time of year. the thought of azzi brings a small smile to my face. memories of our summers spent together fill my mind—trips to the fair, month long sleepovers, sleeping in her clothes.

"not everything has to change, paige," his voice knowing, eyes gauging my reaction.

if anyone could understand what i'm going through, i'd be her.

"yeah, i'll give her a call," i nod, trying to shake my heartache.

"good," he says, walking to my door. "don't forget to leave some of your shoes behind. we don't need the whole state of minnesota wondering why there's a shortage."

i roll my eyes, laughing. "i'll think about it."

he gives me one last warm smile before closing my door. i take a deep breath, reaching for my phone.

azzi's pov:

i'm sprawled across my bed, scrolling through my phone when it starts buzzing. paige's name lights up the screen, and i can't help but smile.

"hey p," i answer, my smile showing in my voice.

"hey az," she replies, and immediately i know something's off. her voice is quieter than usual, lacking its usual charm.

"you okay?" i ask, sitting up straighter.

there's a pause, i can almost feel her forcing a smile through the phone. "yeah, i'm good. just...packing."

packing. right. she's leaving soon.

i'm hit with a wave of anticipatory grief. i've been trying to avoid thinking about what it's gonna be like when she leaves. we'd fallen into such an easy routine. she's spent countless summers at my grandparent's house, becoming part of my family.

"how's that going?" i ask, trying to sound hopeful.

"it's...going," she laughs gently. "it's just a lot, you know?"

i do know. the spotlight she's received these past couple years has been intense, but paige made everything she did look effortless. her confidence carried off the court, giving her a new charisma.

she was so easy to love.

"yeah...it's a big change," my voice matching her quiet tone.

there's another pause, the soft hum of the phone. i listen for her breath, a sigh, some background noice. but nothing. i feel her worry through the phone.

"can i come over—"

"you should come ov—"

we say at the same time. "i'll pick you up tomorrow morning," i smile at the thought of finally getting to see her.

i hear her take a steadying breath, "okay," her voice sounding a bit lighter.

my mind starts to wander. what if i don't see her again for years after this? all this time, and i never thought i'd have to confront my feelings for her.

"hey, i'll call you later, okay?" i'm sad to end our call, but i didn't have time to waste.

"uh yeah," she says, sounding a bit disappointed. "talk to you later."

i hang up the phone, my mind racing, filled with all of her favorite things. that minnesota lynx jersey she loves, her favorite snacks, the lego sets she builds with drew.

i can't let her leave without knowing how much of me she's taking with her.

i start in my closet, sifting through my clothes. my fingers brush against the fabric of my favorite hoodie—the one paige always steals when she's here.

i pull the hoodie closer to my chest, hoping that, for a moment, i could capture the warmth of her hug. a mixture of my perfume and her shampoo. i swear no matter how many times i wash the damn thing, it always carries a piece of her. like the intricate stitching holding the fabric, our bond sewn into the core of who we are.

i run my fingers along the seams—strong, resilient, trustworthy. i guess some things are too deep to be washed away. maybe it'll remind her that no matter how far she goes, a part of us will always be intertwined.

she should have this. it's practically hers anyway.

next, i move to my bookshelf, scanning the titles. my eyes land on one of my favorite john green books, looking for alaska. every once in a while she'd ask me to read it to her so she could fall asleep. paige always claimed my books were boring, but sometimes i'd catch her leaning in, eyes wide and attentive, consumed in the story. maybe she'd finally get around to reading it herself.

lastly, i grab some scissors off my desk and head for my front porch. the old basketball hoop stands sentinel, a silent witness to countless hours of our shared passion. i run my fingers along the worn metal, remembering all the times we'd scrimmage until the streetlights flickered on. our laughter and trash talk echoing through the quiet neighborhood.

i tilt the hoop towards me cutting off a piece of the net. the frayed edges feel like memories slipping through my fingers.

she was my champion first.

before the world knew 'paige bueckers', i knew paige. the slight competitive spark she'd get in her eyes before every shot. her confident sway as she played, turning my front porch into an arena.

everyone is finally gonna see in her what i've known for years.

back in my room, i surveyed my collection. each item, a different memory. i reach under my bed, adding the final touch to my gift—an old lego set paige and i bought together a long time ago. i put off building it with her, claiming we should save it for a special night.

there is nothing more special than tomorrow night.

i want everything to be perfect. i find myself frantically cleaning the house at 2 am, as if paige hasn't visited countless times. i organize my bookshelf, fold clothes, anything to keep my hands busy and my mind from wandering to her.

my exhaustion finally takes over and i lay sprawled across my bed. i try to sleep but she's all i dream about.

except these aren't the usual dreams.

a sequence of different visions flash through my mind, in each of them i'm losing her. we're on a basketball court, but something's off. paige is wearing a uconn jersey, looking different in a way i can't quite place. older, more independent. i'm still in my high school uniform. we're on opposite sides of the court, the air between us heavy. i call out to her but no sound comes out.

i want to tell her something. but my throat tightens, restricting like it's trying to hold her too.

i wake up before the sun, in a cold sweat. it felt so real, almost predestined. a heavy ache in my chest lingers, still unable to articulate what i need to tell her. the thought of my nightmares becoming real ignites a motivation in me to figure it out. fast.

i close my eyes again, hoping for dreamless sleep this time.

tomorrow, i'll find the words. i'll make sure i do.

paige's pov:

the sun peaks through my blinds, waking me up earlier than usual. awaking to the sight of half-packed boxes leaves me disoriented. but my heart flutters when i check my phone to find seven unread text from azzi.

i'm gonna miss stuff like this the most.

glancing at the time, i start to pack a bag to stay the night. she technically didn't say i was sleeping over, but i know us well enough to know that i will.

i start throwing things into my bag—my favorite hoodie, some shorts, and a pillow. then i pause, remembering the last time we hung out at her grandparents' place.

everything i needed was already there.

i empty half the bag, smiling to myself. the hoodie she'd always let me wear, my toothbrush, that book azzi's always bugging me to read, even my favorite pillow. they're all still at her place.

i'm reaching for my phone to tell her i'm ready when i hear my doorbell. smoothing out my hair, i nearly trip down the stairs running to answer the door.

i take a quick breath. even after all this time, i still want to look good for her. the moment i open the front door i'm met with azzi's smile, carrying two coffees in her hands.

everything i need is right here.

"i'm surprised you're not still in your pajamas," she smiles, handing me a coffee.

"what? no, of course not. i've been up for hours," i lie, letting her roll her eyes at my comment.

"mhm," she turns walking to her car.

i glance at her while she walks, her attitude showing in her posture. within just a few seconds, i already feel lighter.

the drive there is both long and short. as we pull up to her grandparents' house, i feel a wave of nostalgia. how many summers have i spent here? how much of me will i be leaving behind?

azzi's grandma is already at the door as we get out of the car. "paigey!," she calls out, her voice warm and welcoming. "how's our little superstar?"

"hi grandma fudd," i mumble, as she pulls me into a hug. i feel like a kid again in her arms.

"look at you," she says, holding me at arm's length. "more beautiful every time i see you."

i blush bashfully at her compliments. "hey, what about me?" azzi pouts from behind us.

"oh hush, you too," she pulls azzi into a deep hug. "i'm glad you finally came, paige. i was worried you weren't gonna make it this year. azzi here hasn't stopped talking about you since your last visit."

i shoot azzi a look, raising my eyebrows at her. she blushes, looking away.

once inside, memories pass me by like a warm summer breeze. the creaky third step on the stairs, the faded marks on the doorframe where azzi and i measured our heights every summer. old family photos lining the hallway, many of which include me.

azzi leads me up to her room, her hand gently tugging at mine excitedly. i let her lead like it was my first time in this house.

as we enter her room, i can't help but notice how clean it looks. her bookshelf organized by size and color, desk clear and neat. i almost miss the messiness of it all, the way her personality leaked all over her bedroom walls.

had she cleaned everything for me?

i scan her bedroom walls, all of which are covered in photos of us. photos from practice, summer trips to the lake, championship games.

her bedroom a museum of us, a bold testament to our bond.

"you kept all of these?" i asked softly, touching the corner of a photo from years ago.

azzi shrugs, a slight blush coloring her cheeks. "of course," she clears her throat nervously. "only because i look so good in them," she laughs failing to hide her affection.

i turn to her, ready to tease her about being sentimental, but the words die on my lips. she's holding something behind her, smiling with her eyes.

she takes a deep breath, bringing her hands forward slowly. in them is a carefully wrapped package, similar to the half-packed boxes littering my floor at home.

"i, uh, got you this. well, more like...put together." she hands me the box.

my fingertips brush against hers, heart racing as i look up into her eyes. "az, you didn't have to—"

"just open it, p," she interrupts, her voice soft and eager.

i unwrap the box, finally catching sight of its contents. it feels like all of the air has been sucked out of the room, it's all too much for me. her favorite hoodie, a worn copy of looking for alaska, a piece of frayed net from the hoop on her porch. and...is that the lego set we bought a long time ago?

all pieces of us, delicately put together in a small brown box.

"az..." i whisper, blinking away tears.

"i wanted you to have a piece of home to take with you," she explains, her eyes seeking my reaction. "so you didn't forget me—us."

i look up at her, my vision blurring the edges around her face. a warmth in my heart builds, surrounded by fragments of us. the finality of it all finally hit me.

how can we pack all of us into a box? years spent together, inseparable for the longest time, just to be neatly packaged in a cardboard box.

there's still so much i want to take with me. how do you package the sound of azzi's laugh? the feeling of her hand in mine? how do i fold up the comfort of her presence and tuck it neatly into a suitcase?

our friendship is a living, breathing thing. packing it away feels inhumane. she will never be a cardboard box i push into the back of my closet, the back of my mind. azzi's warmth pulses underneath my skin. she's the movement that pushes the blood through my body.

i realize something now. home isn't minnesota. it isn't my house or even this one.

home is azzi. and i'm about to leave it behind.

the weight of this box, however light in pounds, pulls me to the floor. my knees buckling underneath me, unable to form a coherent sentence. i'm drowning in a sea of emotions, waves of nostalgia and fear crashing over me. i cry, clinging to the box, like a life vest. my breath comes in short gasps, like i'm barely keeping my head above water.

i hear her call my name, but i can't respond. her voice feels far, muffled by my own emotion. i want to reach out, to tell her i'm okay, but my body won't cooperate.

azzi's hoodie wraps around me like a buoy, keeping me from sinking into the depths of my fears. the book, a raft of memories. the piece of net becomes a rope, pulling me to the shore of home—to her.

i can feel her worry radiate off her in waves, matching the momentum of my fear.

azzi's my anchor, solid and hopeful, grounding me in this storm. her hands cup my face, holding me like water, wiping away the flood.

her touch is gentle, safe. i lean into it instinctively, she always knows how to bring me back to myself.

looking up, i meet azzi's gaze. her eyes are a mirror of my own—a mix of worry, empathy, and something deeper. something that's been left unspoken between the two of us for a long time.

i feel her eyes search my face, a warmth that cuts through the chill of my tears.

azzi's looking at me like i'm her anchor too like she's just as terrified of drifting apart.

"paige, look at me," she says softly, also crying, wiping away my tears before her own.

i force myself to focus on her face. the wetness of her eyelashes, the trembling of her breath, her flushed cheeks—anything to slow my thoughts.

she sits on her knees, catching my tears in her palms. "you're not losing me, okay?" her voice reassuring, but also breaking between her tears.

"okay," i mumble sniffling. before i can thank her or apologize, she pulls my forehead to her lips. they tremble softly against my skin, her sadness showing but insistent on soothing me first.

azzi pulls my head into her chest, stroking my hair gently. i wrap my arms around her waist firmly, thinking that maybe if i hold her tightly enough, i can keep her here—in this moment, forever.

my tears begin to settle as i focus on her heartbeat, trying to memorize it. each beat a resilient promise, a faint whisper of trust, something to hold on to.

we stay there for a moment before azzi pulls back, staring at me with such a tenderness it almost sets me off again.

my eyes fall on the lego set peeking out of the box, and i can't let but let out a shaky laugh. "you're finally letting me build this," i smile, "it only took me almost moving away, huh?"

azzi's face breaks into a small grin, relief showing in her eyes. "like i'd trust you to build it on your own. someone's gotta make sure you read the instructions."

"hey!" i gasp in mock offense. "instructions are for people who don't know what they're doing, i'm a professional lego architect."

"oh we'll see about that," she jabs, opening the box.

azzi's pov:

as we build the lego set together, i can't help but steal glances at paige. i read the instructions to her but she's definitely not listening. already working at the pieces, her focus is unbreakable. her tongue pokes out slightly as she concentrates. it's so quintessentially her, it makes my heart ache.

the day passes by in a blur of laughter and shared memories. it isn't until i notice how dark my room has gotten that i realize we've spent hours on my bedroom floor.

"see, i don't need instructions," paige says, proudly showing off the part she's assembled.

"yeah, whatever," i laugh, admiring her confidence.

we're interrupted by a soft knock at my door, the scent of fresh-baked cookies wafts from behind the door. i open the door to my grandma, always the perfect host, holding a plate of chocolate chip cookies.

she smiles warmly, "i thought you two might want a cookie break."

paige lunges up from the floor almost pushing me over, reaching for the plate. "you're gonna have to send some of these to connecticut," she says, between mouthfuls.

she laughs at her comment, "i wanted to give you this also," in her other hand she hands me an old film camera. "maybe you can capture something special," she smiles before closing the door.

"your grandma makes the best cookies," paige's voice muffled under the sound of her chewing.

before she can react, i snap a photo of her. the camera clicking in a way that makes me giggle.

"hey, i wasn't ready!" she snatches the camera out of my hands. "you're always the model anyways," she says, snapping a photo of me.

i give her a fake smile, still reaching for the camera. "happy now? give it back," i laugh, chasing her around my room.

"not until you give me a real smile," she holds the camera above her head.

"that's not gonna work, we're the same height, stupid," i reach for the camera nearly knocking it out of her hands.

"one picture, with a smile," she takes the camera up to her eye to look through the viewfinder.

i give her another impatient smile. she kneels down dramatically, shifting back and forth while snapping photos.

"okay, my turn," i reach for the camera again.

"these aren't real smiles," she pokes my side, making me giggle. "see there it is, hold still."

i drop my smile and pout dramatically. paige moves the camera away from her face and lunges towards me, jabbing at my sides. "stop, paige," i giggle, swatting at her hands.

she dodges me, her fingers continue relentlessly. i push her onto my bed, using my body weight to keep her still. we fight for a moment squirming around my mattress before i pin both of her wrists down. satisfied, i grin down at her. our laughter comes to a soft stop and we're both breathless.

"see, was that so hard?" paige tilts her head to the side, still out of breath. she attempts to reach her hands up again but i tighten my grip.

"oh, whatever," i roll my eyes, leaning closer to her, my hair draping over her face.

"can i tell you something?" she starts, her voice sounding a bit more serious.

"hm?" i respond, still satisfied i could hold her still.

paige hesitates for a moment, her eyes searching mine. "i've never actually had my first kiss," her cheeks flushing a light pink. "i thought i would've by now, before college, you know?"

i loosen my grip on her wrist, "oh, i had no idea. i figured plenty of guys would be lining up to kiss the paige bueckers," i tease.

"i guess," she looks away bashfully, "i just want it to be with someone special. someone i care about," her voice lowering to a whisper.

there's a silence that hangs between us. i feel my heart pounding in my chest. "like who?" i ask quietly.

i need to hear her say it.

her eyes flicker to my lips briefly before meeting my eyes again. "like...you," she says nervously, almost asking it like a question.

was she saying what i think she was?

"really?" i lean closer to her, my eyes wide and hopeful.

she lets out a nervous breath, her eyes intently locked on my lips. "yeah," she whispers, blinking quickly.

before i can overthink it, she leans in, closing the gap between us. her lips meet mine softly, and my hands reach for her face. i feel a nervous tremble in her lips, soft and warm. the pure flavor of her lips, tasting like vanilla and chocolate. her hands move to my waist, her thumb swaying slightly. we move slowly, gently, not wanting to rush this moment.

our kiss is tender like a warm summer night. her lips move sweetly and determined like she's thought of this before. her hands stroking softly saying "i've wanted this. wanted you."

when she pulls back i feel a new kind of emptiness. how am i going to live with the absence of her touch? she's opened a crack in my heart, long enough for the light to come in.

kissing paige was like sunlight embodied.

we stare at each other for a moment. caught in this new in-between.

what do you say after you kiss your best friend? how do you tell her it was your first kiss too?

"i'm glad it was you," she smiles, sitting up.

"yeah, me too," i murmur, my voice full of emotion. i lean to the side, still dazed from her touch.

"it's getting late, we should probably—" she starts.

"yeah...um," i respond uneasily, standing up to walk over to my closet. i grab one of my old t-shirts and a pair of shorts. "you can wear these to sleep in."

paige takes the clothes from me, her fingers brushing against mine. when we touch this time, it feels different, heavier. she heads to the bathroom to change, and i let out a breath i didn't know i was holding in.

even being just a room over, it feels like she's slipping through my fingers. i'm reminded of my nightmares from last night, paralyzed by the thought of losing her.

i need to tell her.

i grab a piece of paper and pen off my desk, my hands quivering slightly as i start to write.

the first part of the letter flows easily. but as i continue, i feel a shift. the truth hanging in the space between my pen and the paper.

she deserves the truth. and i owe it to myself, to finally tell her.

my heart races, searching for the right words as i continue...

i reread the letter, feeling vulnerable under my own words.

what if this ruins everything? what if she doesn't feel the same way?

i glance at my bedroom door, knowing paige could return at any moment. the panic sets in and i make a split-second decision. my hands shake as i tear the paper in half.

the first part, full of friendship and encouragement. it's a bit more sentimental than usual but not enough to make her suspect anything. i fold it neatly, placing it atop the other objects in the box. it's safe, expected.

the second part, my true feelings for her. i can't bring myself to throw it away, but i'm not ready for her to read it either. i tuck the small slip into the final pages of the last chapter of the book i'm giving her.

maybe one day i'll find the courage to tell her. maybe someday she'll finish the book and know how i really feel. but for now, this feels safe.

i don't know if i'm hoping she finds it or not.

as i hear the bathroom door open, i quickly close the book, sealing my fate. my heart pounds with the weight of my unspoken words.

my thoughts cease when i see her in my clothes. she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, looking unabashedly herself. for a moment, i see our future. imagining our closets becoming one, holding her as she falls asleep, an endless sleepover.

how am i supposed to let her go?

she catches me staring and smiles softly, a knowing glint in her eyes that makes my heart ache. without speaking, we settle into our usual routine. i let her sleep on my favorite side of the bed, she shifts around, trying to get comfortable. eventually, she turns on her side, her back facing me.

right before i drift off to sleep, i hear her call out to me. "azzi," she whispers softly into the dark.

"hm?" i answer, struggling to keep my eyes open.

"can you hold me?"

her voice gentle and vulnerable, as if i could hold every piece of her together. "of course," i wrap my arms around her waist, pulling her in closer. she sinks into my touch, her breath slows.

she drifts to sleep quickly in my arms, our heartbeats syncing. the weight of our unspoken words between us, laying heavily on my chest, pushing me towards a deep sleep.

i dream of never having to let her go.

[captain-mj]

Wrote this at a laundromat so I hope you guys like it

Ghost had just moved to Scotland to get away from everything. His family's murders stayed a constant thought in his mind, but more than that, he didn't want anyone still loyal to Roba to find him. After wiping them off the map, he decided to do something he never thought possible.

Chose himself.

So he made his way to Scotland where no one would know Simon Riley and he bought a house and lived next to a small town so he could go over and get whatever supplies he needed before coming to hide again.

That's where he met him.

A local man who apparently was involved in the church and was in general a great person.. Most people referred to him as Soap, which Ghost thought was a very strange name, but he had also heard MacTavish which seemed more realistic.

The man saw Ghost, probably decided he was emotionally vulnerable, and decided to skulk around him. He asked, begged, pleading for Ghost to join his congregation.

Ghost turned him down each time, though he did love to see a pretty man beg. Once, he lifted lifted his mask, let him see the Glasgow smile cut into his cheeks. He hoped that Soap would assume gang member or miscreant and leave him alone, but it seemed to spur him on.

Soap MacTavish, savior of big buff men. Patron saint of being annoying.

Ghost started... watching him. The way he moved. His smile, just a little too wide with teeth a little too sharp.

He was... handsome. Seemingly kind. But Ghost was like a stray. He didn't trust affection and he wanted to keep it that way. No matter how honeyed Soap made his words or how kind the scraps he offered. Something about the man was unsettling.

Soap simply knocked on his door one day at dusk. Ghost only answered when he had his mask on. He had some kind of food in containers. "Hey! Several people I know made me these and gifted them to me, but I don't think I'll be able to eat all they gave me. Thought you might appreciate them. I know I'd be homesick, in such a new area."

Ghost stared at him, hands itching. "How did you know where I lived?"

"i knew the people who lived here before. Laid them to rest myself. Saw their last rites and all that. No other empty house around for miles."

"Other people know...?"

"Doubt it. Most don't think of you too much." Soap sniffed, looking around. "I assumed that's what you'd prefer."

"It is. Thanks."

Soap smiled. "I'll keep it between us." He kept standing there. Just waiting.

"I'm not going to invite you inside."

Immediately, those soft lips turned into a pouty frown. "At least take the desserts. I really do have no use for them."

Ghost didn't want to disappoint him for some reason, so he awkwardly took the food. "Okay. Address between us right?"

"Of course. With God as my witness." Soap grinned and left.

If Ghost would've thought about it, he'd made him promise to never come back as well. But he did not do that.

He went into his kitchen and opened the container.

Cranachan. Ghost had heard of it. The King of Scottish Desserts.

He grabbed a spoon and brought a bite to his mouth slowly. There was a thick cream with oats and raspberries. When he put a bite in his mouth, he could taste the honey and whiskey.

It was so good.

Ghost dug in on his couch. He was pretty sure this was supposed to be something he'd eat off for a few days, but he devoured all of it in one sitting. There was more of the raspberries sauce and Ghost found himself licking it from his fingers. A warmth settled in his chest from it.

Maybe Soap wasn't terrible.

Ghost got ready to start his routine of checking all of the windows and doors, but his couch suddenly felt so comfy. He felt his eyes start to close, the warmth spreading more.

For the first time since being a kid, Ghost slept all the way through the night with no nightmares.

Ghost cleaned up from the night before, feeling comfy. He noticed one of his windows was unlocked and chided himself for being so forgetful. After two sweeps of the house, he was sure no one was in his house and nothing was missing.

The dishes sat on the counter, suddenly suspicious. The idea of there being something in it was preposterous.

Ghost cleaned the dishes. "He's a fucking poster boy for good. You're being paranoid."

As time went on, he noticed things. Always on his porch or right outside. Tapping or animal noises or sometimes visions of someone right outside. The wonderful night of sleep was the last time he slept for a while.

Soap showed up again. A cross necklace Ghost couldn't remember seeing was around his neck. He looked apologetic as he had more of the delicious treat. "Sorry. It's raspberry season so everyone is making it and... well... I don't really have much of a sweet tooth."

Ghost looked at him coldly. "And you're bringing it to me? No orphans to give it to? Children to target?"

It was the first time Soap had looked upset at him. Ghost was a military man. He dealt with that constantly back in his troop. But for some reason, Soap's unhappiness got under his skin.

"No, Ghost. I just... thought you might be feeling lonely. Ya probably think I'm naive. Small town guy, always trying to talk to you..." He looked embarrassed. "Never met someone from Manchester. And before you ask, I figured it out by your accent."

Ghost looked at him for a few minutes before looking away to pretend he wasn't affected by him. "I don't."

"Gotcha... I can just... take the food."

"No. I'll still take that." Ghost quickly grabbed the home made food, noticing Soap's flash of a smile. He bit his lip as he cradled the food. "Look, I'm not a good guy. Definitely not someone you need around you."

Soap looked at him sadly. "Even outside of my faith, I still think all people deserve someone. I just... want to try to make you feel less lonely."

Ghost sighed. "Alright. Come in."

Soap got so excited. He carefully walked inside and glanced around, moving his weight back and forth between each foot.

Ghost sat on the chair he had. "Haven't exactly bought much furniture. But you're allowed to get comfy."

Soap grabbed the couch and smiled brightly. There was something about him. He looked at him and his eyes... had a shimmer to it.

Ghost paused, holding the bowl.

"Are you going to put it away? Or eat it right now?" Soap asked conversationally. He batted his eyelashes.

Ghost gnawed on the inside of his cheek. "Gonna put it away for now."

"I see. Have you been sleeping well? This place seems... so isolated. I don't think I could ever quite get a good sleep."

Ghost couldn't think of a good answer besides the truth. "Sleep has never came easy to me."

Soap frowned, batting his eyelashes at him. "I'm sorry. I hope it gets easier for you." He seemed so genuine. So sweet.

Ghost shrugged. "Thank you..."

They started to slip into rather easy banter, but he found his eyes getting heavier.

Soap got up and picked his way over. For a moment, Ghost was afraid. He almost lashed out, afraid. But he didn't touch him. He leaned in, eyes glowing against the backdrop of everything around them. "Sleep well, Ghost."

Ghost fell asleep on his chair. Soap locked the door on the way out but he didn't lock the windows.

Ghost found Tommy's photo album and went through them. He looked at the various photos of him and his family and he found himself missing them again. They looked so cute. So perfect. He left them on his coffee table, messy and covering every inch.

Joseph looked up at him, bright smiling face.

Simon was holding him. Blond curls that he spent too much time keeping bleached. No scarring.

He felt like he was going crazy as things... moved around his house. Things moved right out of the corner of his eyes. So he started preparing.

Guns were tucked into every hiding place he could. Knives even more so. He started to work out again for the first time in a few weeks. Luckily he hadn't lost too much of his physique.

Ghost eventually found himself eating the cranachan. He slept well. It was unsettling.

Right before dawn, Soap arrived at his house. The clouds were churning together but there was still some sunlight streaming through. "I brought coffee. Are you a coffee person?"

Ghost wasn't usually, but rather than deal with Soap's sad look again, he took the drink. He sipped it and found himself pleasantly surprised at how good it was.

Soap smiled. "Have any plans?"

"Gonna make breakfast... wanna join?" Why did he say that??

Soap smiled and quickly walked in. "I'd love to."

Ghost started to cook. He had been trying to learn more cooking lately so hopefully it wasn't too bad.

Soap looked thankful when he set it down and started to eat. They did so in basically silence. The cross necklace kept catching the light so he kept staring at it. When he lifted his gaze to look at his eyes, they made direct eye contact.

Soap's eyes. They were so dark. Like a shark.

Ghost felt for the gun under his side table. He tried to keep up conversation.

"Don't grab that gun, Simon."

Ghost paused what he was doing, watching the cross necklace sway where it sat. "What?"

Soap sighed. "Don't be like that. The gun your hand is on. Don't grab it." His nails clicked against the table. Too long. Too alarming. "Be a good boy, Simon."

Ghost stared at him, debating what could be done here.

"I'm not going to hurt you."

"What are you?"

"Not a danger to you." Soap answers a little pedantically. "I promise." His canines. They were long and curved.

Ghost glanced at the coffee. "You were drugging me."

Soap hummed. "No. More of a... side effect of my presence. You feeling anything right now?"

Ghost could feel something tugging at the edge of his consciousness but nothing too severe. "What do you want?"

Soap swallowed. "I'm hungry. Starving."

"You saw me up here. Being vulnerable. And decided you could fuc-"

"No. Not quite. I... I know you could keep a secret."

Ghost blinked, realizing the situation. "You're... asking."

Soap looked pained. "I am. A... deal. I keep everyone away. Tell them whatever I need so they leave you alone and I get to..." His eyes trailed to Ghost's throat.

"How bad is the feeding?"

"Not bad! I take about as much blood as a blood donation. Easy peasy. I'll even bring you food for recovery just please..."

Ghost undid the top button of his shirt and Soap looked ready to wiggle out of his seat. The poor man was salivating.

Why was he doing this?

it was stupid.

Idiotic.

Self-sacrificing.

The mask hit the table.

"Go for it."

Soap leapt over the table and sat in his lap. Teeth sank into his throat as he held him, holding him tight. They pressed together and Ghost could feel the unsettling chill that came from Soap.

He grabbed the table, almost white knuckling it.

Pain radiated from where he was being stabbed into and he felt himself go lightheaded. Soap's ass was pressed firmly to his lap though and it felt...

pleasurable.

Slowly he sank into it, feeling Soap take his fill.

His pretty boy thanked him, lips bright red from blood. "Thank you. Thank you. You're perfect. My angel from heaven."

Their lips touched and Ghost groaned softly.

Soap panted in his ear. "I'll be good. Promise. Take care of you." His claws sank into Ghost who was wondering how bad the situation he landed himself was.

[youcouldmakealife]

How did James realise he was in love with Holden? Not that we can't see it in his actions, but Holden I think is more vocal (in his thoughts at least) about what he loves about James?

He was already there before they got to Winnipeg.

Here's a few things in full disclosure.

None of them are outright, but, as you say, Holden's more vocal, who's used love or head over heels a few times already in his internal monologue, so we all knew it was coming sooner rather than later, since his internal monologue has a tendency to become an external monologue if he isn't careful (and that isn't a word I'd use to describe him, though it's a great one to describe James.)

And factually speaking, it hadn’t even been a few days. Hardly more than twenty-four hours since he’d last woken up beside Holden, and James was breathing him in like it’d been weeks since he’d last had a chance to touch him. Longer.

The way James frames this it's easy to miss that he is literally counting hours since he last got his Holden Chase fix.

Very important note for this and all the following: they are on a trip together. They can see each other. They have spoken. It's sometimes hard to remember, because they're both being such dramatic bitches this whole trip you'd think there was a continent between them and they couldn't even send letters.

After James could finally detach from him without feeling like he was about to hyperventilate,

The thought of not touching Holden putting James on the verge of a full-fledged panic attack was...perhaps a sign.

Created guidelines, James holding onto every part of Holden he could reach the entire time, like he was the blanket James dragged with him everywhere as a child.

James loved that blanket so much. Don't ever talk to him about it.

...finding Holden sitting among their teammates at the airport gate, eyes on his own phone. Exactly where he was five minutes ago, the last time James looked for him. It may have been less than five. Possibly closer to three.

He is now counting minutes.

But homesick or not, for the first time James can remember, he doesn’t want to lock the door behind him, mute his phone, turn away any visitors who arrive at his door. Doesn’t want to barricade himself in his home until he can stand being around people again. For once, James doesn’t want to be alone. It scares him a little. Would probably scare him more if Holden wasn’t clearly experiencing the same sort of emotions, though he doesn’t seem to be scared at all.

This is James Alexander Erickson for 'I'm totally in love with him good thing it's obvious as fuck it's mutual'. He knows.

Also, kind of too much/not easy to quote, but he wouldn't have told Mrs. Schneider there was someone in his life if he hadn't been in love at that point. The fact he was dreading dinner with the Schneiders so much was him knowing that he was going to have to be honest because lying about there not being someone would feel like a betrayal.

He doesn’t know what Finn knows, and he isn’t sure he wants to, but he does trust him. With everything, and Holden’s part of that now. A big one, he thinks.

Also this bit.

Everything but the words said at that point. He hadn't said the words to himself then, or at any point before Holden said them out loud, but as soon as Holden did he had a sort of... 'oh okay that makes sense me too'. reaction (after a slight delay. Because he processes things more slowly than most, especially verbally, and also he had, you know, been awake 30 seconds when Holden said it.)

Horrifying note to end this up: it has been less than a week, timeline wise, since that part occurred, because these two have had an...eventful few weeks.

(What a hilarious fucking treat it will be to do an LBTE of these two lunatics some day in the future.)

[666writingcafe]

Strange Behavior

A Text Conversation Between MC and Solomon

MC: Asmo's acting weird.

Solomon: How so?

MC: Ever since Simeon and Luke arrived at the House, he's been spacing out frequently and looking rather sad, and yet whenever I ask him what's wrong, he brushes me off and quickly changes the topic, trying way too hard to seem upbeat.

Solomon: I see. Perhaps he's homesick.

MC: That's what I'm thinking. He probably doesn't feel right being here in the Devildom. Unfortunately, him returning to the Celestial Realm is out of the question.

Solomon: I can relate to Asmo on a certain level. While I miss the place where I was born sometimes, I've lived too long a life for it to still be recognizable to me. But unlike our demon friend, I'm not sure I want to go back even if it WAS the exact same place I left.

Solomon: The only reason I would is to witness the nature there one last time. It was the sort of place where the earth and the sky seemed to go on forever. The vast meadows, the deep blue sky, the shadows that fell over the valley...it was truly magical.

MC: If circumstances were different, I'd have liked to go visit it with you, but I understand if the memories are too painful to retread.

Solomon: *blushing crow sticker*

Solomon: The last time I was in my hometown was also when I first met Asmo. I'd come back home after being away for several decades, and I decided to pop in a local tavern to grab something to drink. Asmo was sitting at the bar, drunk beyond belief.

MC: Good or bad?

Solomon: ??

MC: Was he having a good time or not?

Solomon: OH!

Solomon: He was rather depressed. Apparently a human he'd been pursuing rejected him, and so he was sobbing uncontrollably. I couldn't help but feel sorry for him, so I tried talking to him. That was a choice I immediately regretted, because once he started talking, he just wouldn't stop, and I hadn't intended on staying at the tavern for very long.

MC: That sounds about right.

Solomon: The good news is that I was able to propose forging a pact with him, and the rest, as they say, is history.

MC: *shocked crow sticker*

Solomon: What?

MC: No wonder this version of Barbatos doesn't like you.

Solomon: Now what's THAT supposed to mean? *angry emoji*

MC: You LITERALLY took advantage of someone while they were drunk!

Solomon: It wasn't like I slept with him!

MC: It doesn't matter, Solomon. You shouldn't have made a pact with him while he was drunk and heartbroken.

Solomon: I didn't think I'd have another chance.

MC: Save your excuses.

Solomon: Well, OBVIOUSLY I wouldn't do that sort of thing now, MC.

MC: Really? *eye roll emoji*

Solomon: Yes, really.

MC: Prove it.

Solomon: What?

MC: I dare you to make a pact with Asmo without manipulating him into it.

Solomon: While we're here???

MC: YES

Solomon: I suppose that wouldn't interfere with the timeline TOO much...just as long as I still have my seventy-two pacts when we return, it shouldn't really matter what order they occur in.

MC: I'm being serious, Solomon.

Solomon: I know. You didn't exactly consent to all your pacts, so I can only imagine how Asmo might have felt when he sobered up and realized what he'd done.

Taglist: @lost-in-time-wanderer, @fuzztacular, @dianedancer18, @sweetbrier2908, @flare-love, @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf, @thunderlightning351, @l3v1chan, @anxious-chick, @5mary5, @expressionless-fr

[eisforeidolon]

Question: Has there ever been a moment on set or in a series that has made you so seriously contemplate quitting acting and like who was the person [audience laughs] - No! Like who was the person who helped you stay, who was your grounding stone that really made you want to keep in this career? Or has there just been a moment that's made you say I'm done with this and what helped you stay in the career?

Jared: Great question. I think I know what you're asking. Uh, there was certainly several moments - there were countless moments where it's like this is more than I got. And more often than not, it would happen on set, I was on set with Jensen or I worked with Jensen, so it's like hey, we got it, we've been through harder. You know, like, let's figure this out, just get through the day. And there was always that great feeling at the end of the day, we did something you didn't think - that prior to that day you didn't think you were capable of doing? There was certainly some uncomfortable scenes or sequences or - You know it generally didn't have to do with acting or the character, that I kind of - I - You know I'm not a writer and so I've accepted as an actor that I'm largely telling somebody else's story and hopefully able to weave in my own where it's possible and learn from their story when possible? So it hasn't really had anything to do with what my character did. It's usually when something - just like with everybody, when something is going on in your head or in your [finger quotes] real life? When you're at work, like I don't like anything right now. I don't wanna do - not that I don't wanna act, I just don't wanna be here, I don't wanna be anywhere. And I think a lot of that was Ackles, you know when I was experiencing that, with work, at work I think a lot of - yeah, the most I ever wanted to leave acting was frankly, when I had to leave Austin and fly to Vancouver. You know, Vancouver - as many of y'all know, many of y'all are from there - is one of the most beautiful cities on the planet. It's amazing, nice people, great food - yeah. [Jensen nods and pounds his fist over his heart] Loved our crew, loved our cast, but there's something about when you're gonna see, when you're saying bye to your kid 6 pm on a Sunday and they say when do you come back? And you say I'll be back in, uh, twelve days, but I'll FaceTime you - and they start crying. And then I'll have to leave for the airport and I'm running late? That sucks. That's rough. And I feel for parents, for anybody who has to leave on a regular basis. That was probably the most rough. But he and I could also talk about that, like, it sucks. Like, JJ has a teacher's appointment on this after this or Tom has a teacher's appointment or whatever, you know? We were missing a lot of key moments. And so it's just, it's difficult to have to leave, I guess.

Jensen: Any moment on The Boys. [Jared laughs] Has not only made me question my career choice, but also my life. Um, no, I think there was only one moment in my life that I can remember where I was contemplating walking away. And it was very early on. I had just turned 19, and I had just come off of a television show called Mr. Rhodes that was my first, like, real gig when I moved out to LA at 18. And I worked for a full season for NBC at Universal Studios and I was like, oh, this is amazing. And then that show got cancelled. And by that time, all my friends back home were all in college, and they were sharing all these incredible stories and I was also a kid, I was 19 and I was really, really homesick. And I wanted to go home. I was like, I don't know if I want to do this. And I had - I was up for a job, I'd had one audition and I had a callback coming and this was the moment where I was like I don't think I'm gonna do this, I don't wanna do - I wanna go home, I want to go to college and just go that path that I abandoned. And I was like, I'll tell you what, if I get this role, then I'm meant to stay. And it was Days of Our Lives. Yeah, and I signed a three year deal, so I couldn't go. But I was literally like, already starting to pack my stuff, and just had it riding, put it all on that one - and I didn't think I was gonna get it. It wasn't like, oh, I'm gonna get this so you know. Cause I literally thought I was not getting that role. I was the youngest guy that was up for the role, I was certainly the least developed muscularly? Like all those soap guys were just all jacked and ripped and I was like - I was just some skinny kid from Texas. And I thought there's no way they're gonna go with me, they're gonna go with some, you know, some big Adonis pretty boy guy. And they went with the skinny kid from Texas and that's why I'm still here.

[j-nakamura]

♡— Newcomers, Announcements, & Exclusive.

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Hi everyone! Welcome back to our second article posting of 'TSOTH'. It's an honor for many to be interested in what I have to write! We have multiple students to introduce, so let's get to it!

(click keep reading to see the rest of the article)

Coming into the new year, I am proud to say that we have multiple new students that we should welcome into our school! I got a chance to interview a few of them, so I'm here to give everyone a warm welcome with some personal information that I received from each of them. :)

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Let's start off with Cassie Sandsmark. ( @cassandra-e-sandsmark )

Cassandra Sandsmark is fifteen years old and goes by the pronouns they/she. She is from Gateway City, California (what a long way from home!), and they prefer to have people call them Cassie or Cass.

In the past, she has been to over 5 boarding schools! So let's hope she sticks to the landing with this school and does not get expelled like she did in her past schools. If you bump into them in the hallway, beware! you may end up fighting!

In other good news, they're interested in Soccer and Football. Make sure you go out to those games to support her!

Up next we have Moss Verner! ( @moss-loves-dinosaurs )

Moss Verner is a sixteen-year-old foreign exchange student from New Zealand! They're nearly seventeen, and have been enjoying being in a new country so far! They use the pronouns they/he and go by Moss. Feel free to stop them in the hall to say hello!

So I was informed by a little birdie that Sir Moss Verner had superpowers... However, when I asked about them directly, they had left no comment on the sudden address asking if it was true or not. We may have a new vigilante on our hands, everyone!

Moving on from that little rumor, Moss wanted me to let everyone know that they would be making a new club! A D&D club! Go ahead and message them with any questions you may have about it! I'm sure Moss would greatly appreciate it.

Up next is Jaime Reyes! ( @jaimereyesbug )

Jaime Reyes uses he/him pronouns and is from El Paso, Texas. He's sixteen at the moment but turning seventeen next month! Make sure to wish him a happy birthday once the month hits!

Jaime, unfortunately, is very far away from home. He says he misses his family, but he's glad he got away from that state due to it being extremely homophobic. Good thing he's able to text his family members in order to cure his homesickness!

Speaking of sickness, I think Jaime must've caught the love flu. Considering that notion, be aware of your surroundings as the love flu strikes more victims!

Second to last, we have Corus Lim-W! ( @corus-lim-w )

Corus Lim-W is a sixteen-year-old who uses any pronouns! He requested that people try not to use only one set of pronouns for her, so keep that in mind! They are from Gotham (another one!), and he does not really have any nicknames for people to call them. She did mention that people from their old school called him "Cor'! They're really interested in art so maybe you can bond with him over art classes!

Taking note out of the interview, Corus has been able to tell what would happen before it's happened. I'd say that's some amazing deja vu or far-seeing sight if you asked me!

Now, I have to mention this, but does anyone else wonder what the 'W' stands for in their username? Well, I have a theory.... and I think it fits. The W stands for Wayne! See! Hear me out, he's from Gotham AND who has the biggest name in Gotham that starts with the letter W? BRUCE WAYNE. Could Corus be Mr. Wayne's secret love child?

Finally, we have Mikael (no last name. unfortunate. :'( ) ( @mikael1256 )

Mikael is seventeen years old and was born in New York. I never received what pronouns they prefer so for the majority of this writing process, I will be using they/them strictly due to this fact.

Mikael lives in a family that travels! They traveled all over the place until their father decided to reside in Gotham. While talking about the traveling they did, they mentioned that their favorite place to travel to was Montana.

Now... I'm totally not one to start rumors, but throughout that entire interview, Mikael did not blink once. I promise I am NOT crazy bruh.

Anyways, that wraps up introductions! Let's move on to announcements.

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ANNOUNCEMENTS;

Journalism Club is having a meet & greet event on Thursday @ 4 pm! Come visit and learn more about Journalism. We're recruiting AND free snacks & drinks. Anyone is welcome to come!

The Dance Team is having tryouts on Friday @ the dance studio! Make sure to practice a dance routine so you're able to showcase it on Friday! If you have any more questions, feel free to message Morgan Drew! ( @midrew )

That's all for Announcements. Moving on to our exclusive of the week. :)

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I have been submitted a writing piece to publish in this week's issue! I believe it's written over the newfound popular ship that's been going around called "DukeJay" (so silly).

Here it is and feel free to leave your feedback about it in the comments!

Hands cling to toussled pink hair as brown eyes widen. "Duke..." Jay whispers, pressing his fingers to the other's lip.

Once upon a time his voice would have incited anger in Duke. Irritation, annoyance.

But something about the way the other stared at him with those warm brown eyes sparked something within him. A flutter he struggled to push down.

Wow! That was.... interesting to read!

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Thank you all for reading this week's "The Stories of Tripolis High" issue! I hope you enjoyed reading it! Anyways, Jay Nakamura is out until next time... ;)

[gadriezmannsgirl]

can i request a story where gavi comes home and finds his gf the reader crying in the dark? thanks 😊

A bit short but cute enough, I hope this is at your expectations 😊 i had a bit of trouble coming up with something for this so here you go.

Homesick -P.G

Summary: It's one of those days where you are homesick

Have you ever had one of those days where everything's going good, you are fine but still can't help but feel kinda weird? Like... You can't help but feel down, want to cry and just overall feel sad? Better said, a mixed feeling of homesick and lost?

That's what's totally happening to you after looking at a picture your uncle had sent of your late grandad. You had done a bit of clean up, you also did homework and finished in four hours, then you just made a snack and put on Friends with all the lights turned off, the only thing lighting up your face was the TV

You started thinking of your extended family who was away, of your abuela's food, your grandad's jokes you wouldn't hear again and the smallest things you could possibly remember, that much you don't know when you turned off the TV and just stared at it and then you felt yourself cry.

You keep on crying lightly, you were in your own world not even noticing Pablo had came home from training and straight towards you when he saw you crying your eyes out

"Mi vida, why are you crying?" He asked you worried as your eyes snapped to him, sniffling you dried your tears

"Everything's good, amorcito. I'm fine, don't worry. What about training? How was it? I saw Coldplay had been there, you must have been all over the moon"

"And now I'm all over the underground if you don't exactly tell me what happened to you, hermosa. I'm always worrying" He shook his head

"Just feeling a bit down today, I dunno" You shrugged your shoulders "Today's my grandad's fourth year of passing and I miss my family"

"We can always invite your mom and your brothers, include your dogs in the mix"

"I'd love that but I don't mean my close family, Pabs. I don't mean them" You shook your head "I mean my extended fam; my grandma, my tio, mis primos, everything and everyone. I'm missing my little town and my weather. I wanna be there with them for a few days during this time we all get a bit blue, but it'll be impossible"

"You're homesick, mi nena?" He asked pushing your hair behind as you lightly nod "What about we can go there?"

"We can't, mi vida. I have Uni and you have matches to attend"

"Not for much, season is ending we can go a few days, you can visit them, go to your grandad's, take him some flowers" Pablo pushed a stray of your hair behind your ear "walk around your town, anything you want" You look at him still teary eyed

"Would you do that for me?"

"I would do anything for you, Y/N" He smiled as you finally cracked a laugh and the longing feeling started to go away

"Then you gotta tell me when do you have your day offs, so we can plan it"

"Of course, mi vida. You had me scared being alone crying in the dark" You laughed

"I was watching Friends but... I suddenly didn't wanted to anymore"

He hummed letting you know he was trying to come up with something

"How about Flips with milk?" You nod excited feeling him kiss your lips and get up towards the kitchen "And some kisses to cheer you up too?" He asked as you roll your eyes from his smirk, but still nodded and smiled

"You know it!"

°°° °°° °°° °°°

This wasn't proofread, so I'm sorry if there was some misspelled words, I'll look it up thorugh it tomorrow and edit it tho!

Taglist: @gaviypedrisbride @stuckinaf4nfiction @elijahslover @azzpenswrld

[liminalmemories21]

WIP Wednesday

tagged by @whatsintheboxmh, @paperstorm, @lemonlyman-dotcom, @reyesstrand, @orchidscript,

and @carlos-in-glasses - thank you!

knave-verse Paris shenanigans

He's never really been a bath person.  Still prefers the feel of a shower after a long day, hot water rinsing him clean, letting the worst of the day wash away down the drain.  But this, here in a fancy hotel bathroom, in a tub long enough to stretch his legs out in, filled with hot perfumed water, TK relaxing back against him.  This has its merits.  He could be won over by this. He lets himself drift on the steam, and the smell of the lavender bath oil that TK had produced out of thin air that evening.  He's never liked the taste of lavender flavored things - always tastes to him like the inside of his mother's linen closet.  But, this is nice.  He can feel his muscles unspooling, one by one, sinking a little lower into the tub every minute.  TK twists his head enough to press a kiss to the underside of his jaw and he makes a faint sighing noise in appreciation, tightens the arm he has wrapped across TK's chest. "You having a good time, baby?"  TK voice breaks the silence. "Right this second?  Naked in a bath with you?  Big bed in the next room all ours and no plans for the rest of the night?  Yeah, I'd say I'm having a pretty good time." TK pinches his thigh lightly.  "Good to know.  Flattering even."  He snorts.  "I meant in Paris." He rouses himself enough to contemplate the question seriously.  "Yeah."  He sweeps his hand down TK's chest and then back up again.  "I've never really been anywhere before, always kind of looked at places in pictures.  It's different being here." "Not homesick?" "I leave you alone with my family too much."  Doesn't need to look to know TK's grinning.  "No.  Not homesick."  Doesn't quite know how to say, I brought the important part of home with me, without sounding cheesy.  He tips TK's head back enough that he can kiss him, hopes that says some of it.

tagging @carlos-tk, @fifthrideroftheapocalypse, @walkinginland, and @freneticfloetry

[libraryofloveletters]

A Solid Foundation

Christian Pulisic x Fem!Reader

Warnings: feeling homesick, gingerbread making, a little friendly competition, a loving girlfriend and a loved boyfriend, the houses aren't structurally sound lol, some soft moments

Word Count: 627

Author's Note: every time I see Chris, all my patriotism leaves my body (not like there was much anyways lmao)

--

You and Christian have a contest to see who can build the best gingerbread house. Safe to say, you both went a little overboard.

Christian was feeling a little bit homesick.

The football season was keeping him alone for longer than expected, and he will be missing out on all the pre-holiday activities that his family tends to do together. Amongst the many traditions that the Pulisic family had, the building of gingerbread houses was one of Christian's favourites.

You figured while your boyfriend was away at training, you pop to the store and see if you could pick up the things to have your own little gingerbread night at home. The selection of the store was rather lacklustre, you could tell just by the packaging alone that the gingerbread was going to be stale.

So, rather than buying stale gingerbread, you opted to make it; and for a first attempt, it didn't come out too badly.

Christian was a bit confused as to why the house smells like gingerbread when he got home. The further he walked into the house and the closer he got to the dining room, he could see you leant over the table trying to fix something.

"Babe?" He calls and you turn to face him, a cheesy Christmas apron tied around you.

You smile at your boyfriend, "you're home!" You walked over to give him a quick kiss, taking his bag from him and setting it off to the corner. "Go wash your hands, we're making gingerbread houses!"

Christian smiles, his heart warming at all the effort you put in just to put a smile on his face.

He quickly followed your instructions, off to the kitchen to wash his hands before joining you at the dining room table.

The table has all the pieces lined up along with frosting and candies you'd use to decorate. "I bet I can build the best house," Christian says as you slide a plastic knife over to him, letting him use that to put the frosting on his house.

You roll your eyes, carefully lining up your pieces, "as if. We both know I'd do it better than you."

If there was one thing about you and Christian, you were both extremely competitive and that showed in everything you two did; from the simplest of tasks to the most complicated, you two tried to outdo each other.

"Bet on it?" He asks, glancing across the table at you. There's a smug smile on your face, nodding. "Bet on it."

Off you went, you and Chris putting together your houses and the amount of frosting used to stick them together was outrageous. Not to mention the amounts used to put the candies on the house - Christian was going for an AC Milan themed house while you were going for a winter wonderland theme.

The gingerbread houses have yet to fully set together with the frosting, so they were still a bit wobbly when you loaded them up with more frosting and candy. The weight of the candy and frosting on top causes the gingerbread houses to collapse before you could even take a photo.

It's a bit of a domino effect, Christian's house cracks and then yours, and before you know it, they're both tumbling down into a pile of gingerbread, candy and frosting on the dining room table.

You and Christian exchange a glance before you burst out laughing. There wasn't much else you could do but laugh.

He picked out a piece that wasn't too covered in frosting before he took a bite of it, sinking back into his chair. "Thank you baby." He says and your brows furrow slightly, chin propped up on your hand.

"What for?"

"This,"he gestured to the pile of gingerbread on the table.

You smile, reaching over to hold his hand. "No need to thank me, that's what I'm here for."

[flyingwargle]

the aijinomoto national training center is curtained in darkness, with only neon green emergency lights illuminating the corridors. as midnight nears, the only audible sounds are shuffling blankets from the high school athletes participating in the weeklong training camp, the central heating system working to stave off the winter's chill, and a hushed voice in the corner of the sitting room, irritated face lit up by his phone.

"-seriously," atsumu grumbles, "ya'd think that there wouldn't be scrubs at this camp, but then there's someone like him here, an' that makes ya wonder how he was invited."

"mmhmm." osamu's noncommittal hum is soft on the other end.

"ya woulda beat his socks off, 'samu. he ain't got a candle ta ya."

"maybe he's just crazy, like ya. the way ya described the others, they all have their own brand of crazy."

atsumu snorts. "as if yer not crazy yerself."

"i am," osamu concedes. "just not 'bout volleyball."

"yeah, i know." his voice lowers to a whisper. "i know."

they're silent, listening to each other breathe. the seconds pass on the digital clock on the wall, scarlet red in the darkness. a minute passes, closer to midnight. "is everythin' okay at home?"

"it's only been a day, 'tsumu. stop makin' it sound like ya've been gone for a month."

"it feels like it," atsumu mumbles. "haven't been this far from home before." that's not true, and osamu knows it, but he doesn't call him out. "ya still have practice tomorrow, right?"

"obviously. we gotta prepare for the spring tournament." there's shuffling, and atsumu can envision his brother on his bunk, half-buried under his blankets, stomach on the mattress, elbows propped up, phone pressed to his ear. "what 'bout ya? don't ya hafta start early tomorrow?"

"eh, breakfast is at nine. lotsa time 'till then."

"not if ya stay up longer when yer 'sposed ta be asleep by now," osamu scoffs. "well, ya better have fun playin' volleyball fer a whole week. i'd die, if that were me."

"well, ya better have fun at school. glad i ain't there."

"guess i don't hafta get class notes fer ya."

"gin already said he'd grab 'em fer me."

the clock reads 12:01 am. the line falls silent. "i'm gonna go ta sleep," osamu says, "unless ya need me fer anythin' else?"

atsumu blinks. "did i ask?"

"well, ya called first, so i just assumed yer homesick."

"i ain't homesick! it's just a routine call. ya can expect one again tomorrow."

"ya won't die if ya don't call, 'tsumu. ya'll be fine on yer own."

"i know."

"okay, then i'm goin’ ta bed. g'night."

"g'night, scrub." the line goes quiet and atsumu lowers his phone. his picture for osamu changes regularly, thanks to suna. the newest one is his twin sleeping with his mouth open while on the bus back from last month’s training camp. before that, it was a selfie they’d taken after winning the top prize for a claw machine. and before that, it was a photo he snuck of osamu making onigiri, smile soft and eyes crinkled in concentration.

he peels himself off the armchair and wanders down the corridor, passing their designated shared rooms, finding the stairs that lead to the ground floor. he eventually finds his way to the gym, shoving the unlocked door open, sliding his slippered feet across the court.

atsumu sits cross-legged, neck craned to stare at the ceiling. he was able to quash the heavy feeling in his stomach earlier with volleyball, doing his best to adjust to the other players, observing their habits and styles. it was only after they were dismissed for the evening that the feeling settled in his bones and permeated his mind.

'samu isn't here with me.

it isn’t like they’d never been separated before. once, they continuously argued where to go for a family trip, so atsumu and their mom went to hiroshima, and osamu and their dad went to kamakura. they stayed over at different friends’ houses before throughout junior high, too. sure, none of those absences were longer than a weekend, and they always came back unscathed.

so what's different this time?

he thinks of osamu’s aloof expression when he learned only atsumu was picked for the camp. he thinks of his detached interest whenever they watched matches for leisure than research. he thinks of that night when he saw osamu engrossed in making onigiri, to the point he didn’t even notice atsumu.

this isn't homesickness. this is the start of an end.

his quiet sobs echo around him, endless stream of tears staining the floor. his shoulders shake, hiccupping breaths caught in his throat. he jolts when something drapes over him, a body pressing against his. it’s a blanket, soft and warm. he clutches it tighter around him. “leave me alone.”

“is sitting a crime?” the voice is muffled behind a mask but still sympathetic.

“go somewhere else.”

“i’m fine here.”

that only makes atsumu cry harder. of course, it’s sakusa who finds him like this, pathetic and vulnerable. although they bicker and glower at each other when there’s a net between them, outside of it, atsumu dares to call him a friend, having been acquainted with him since the first training camp they had together. he was glad to see him again, even if he stuck by his cousin most of the time. a familiar face is better than no one.

“are you homesick?”

“no.” atsumu’s sleeves are wet with tears.

there’s a pause. “you miss osamu.” the twins attended the camp together last year; if one half isn’t here, it’s easy to tell why.

“i don’t.” it isn’t a lie. he wants this camp as the first step to making his own identity as miya atsumu, setter, not miya atsumu, setter who can pull off combos with miya osamu. “it’s just…”

his voice catches in his throat. how can he explain the vague sensation in his mind, when he doesn’t know what it is, himself? how can he admit that he’s afraid that his brother might not play with him in the future, when he knows it might not be true?

but it is. you know it is. atsumu just shakes his head. “it’s complicated.”

he feels sakusa lean against him further, the weight on his back strangely comforting. “you aren’t alone. you have me, even motoya, if you want. if you ever…need someone to talk to, we’re here. the camp is only for a week, anyway. you’ll be back soon.”

you have me. it fills him with warmth, makes the tears slow. that doesn’t just apply to sakusa, but osamu, too. yes, it’ll hurt if what he suspects is true, but that doesn’t mean he’s gone. they’ll separate, they’ll go different ways, but they’ll come back, unscathed. because that’s what brothers do.

“thanks, omi.”

sakusa hums. “ready to go to sleep?”

“i think so.” together, they clamber to their feet, and sakusa leads him out. atsumu glances over his shoulder, where his tears remain on the court. they’ll dry, the evidence of the night erased, but he’ll hold it close to him, just like sakusa’s warmth on his back.

--

inspiration: this fanart of sakusa and atsumu sitting back to back while atsumu is crying <3 dialogue tweaked to match the drabble!

[theladyofbloodshed]

is it okay if i ask why you’re thinking of deleting everything? i hope you’re doing okay friend 🩷

It is a combination of many things. Thank you for checking in <3

I'm over SJM's works. I still have so many ideas for fics but I feel like why should I bother? She half-assed the source material and I spend so much of my time writing about her characters or trying to deepen the canon material - for example in AU ACOSF with the Illyrian traditions regarding tattoos or the events in the Spring Court. I love writing but I don't feel like the effort I put into it is worth it anymore as I'm getting less and less comments or likes. (Thank you to the faithful few who are always there for me, I appreciate your support so much and it's for you guys that I'm not throwing the towel in now).

I'd rather focus on writing my original works but they get very little support from people who read my fics. I have something like 14000 kudos on AO3 and if even a 10th of those people supported my own books or even just shared one of my instagram posts, it would help me greatly. I'm just a bit disappointed that the expression of love for my fanfics doesn't then carry over to my original work which I am far prouder of and care about more. I gave away the 1st book of The Story of Old on my birthday, I gave away The Witch and The Monster last year. I'm not doing it to make money as I don't really make money from it - anything I do earn goes back into commissioning art to try and get more people reading. I'm more and more frustrated that I can't boost my books further, so I wonder if I'm just not a good writer - but I have over 400k hits on AO3, so what is it?

Sometimes I find it to be very cliquey on here with little friendship groups which is good for them, but it can feel like standing on the fringes a lot of the time.

I moved countries a few months ago so I'm very home sick. I miss everything about home as much as I love it here too. The language is completely different and most people do not speak English. I don't have a job or a car so I feel like I've lost all of my independence at the moment. We're living with in-laws and I'm so desperate to be in my own house as I've lived alone since I was 18. I lost a good friend a few weeks ago and had her funeral this week but my residency permit still hasn't arrived so I couldn't travel and had to stream the funeral which only added to my homesickness. All of these things have just put my mood down even more.

[wayfayrr]

You don’t have to do this one if it’s too much!! I just simp for twi and time so hard but I don’t wanna overwhelm you, please take breaks!! Ily :’DD

Soft fruit cake w eggnog to eat in?

I hope you'll enjoy your order this evening ~

Time is one of the links I'm less confident with writing, but he's still so much fun. He's a bit of a blushy dork in this one for you. <3

[Event masterlist]

“It's kinda comforting to know that Hyrule has the same traditions as home. Some of them anyway.”

Time isn’t focused on it, it seems off for him to be acting like this, unless he was lying to me? what reason would he have to lie about something so harmless though… it’s just gifts. Why would he ever need to lie as something as a tradition?  

“You don’t actually have it as a tradition, do you?” 

“What, no, we do. It’s part of the winter festival here.”

“Why do you feel the need to lie over something so small?”

Red illuminates his face at that, whatever has him so embarrassed over being called out for this? It’s so different from his usual stoic self too, not a bad change, just a sudden one. It makes me want to pry into what’s causing this even more than if he did manage to keep his cool.

“You seemed so excited when talking about it. I just wanted to do it for you.”

“But why lie, why not just be honest and just do it as a new thing?”

The red grows from his cheeks to the tips of his ears now, this new bashful side only becoming more appealing the more of it I get to see. Still though, it’s such a childish thing to get so flustered over. Like he’s a little kid rather than one of the oldest links here, not even able to make eye contact with me anymore. 

“Well, never mind that. It doesn’t change the fact that we’ve both gotten each other a gift right?”

“I'd still like to know why you didn’t just admit it’s not commonly done.”

“You were so- hmph.”

He’s close to cracking on the reason why he’s lying about all all of this to begin with, if I push it a little more he’ll spill I can bet. I don’t even really mind what it is, it’s only sheer curiosity making me want to learn now. What reason is enough to lie over something so small for so long?

“Time - link please, I’m not bothered or anything, I just wanna know.”

“You just seemed so excited talking about your home and I know you’ve been homesick… So I just… Wanted to make you more comfortable.”

That’s it? I can’t deny that it’s not a sweet reason, it does feel very childish though, it really is like he’s just some love struck teen. If I were to close my eyes and focus… I could probably see his young adult self still dressed in that forest green.

“While I appreciate it, you really didn’t need to go that far for something so simple. I’m honoured though… If we’re not following strict traditions though… why not just give each other gifts now?”

“That wouldn’t bother you? I thought christmas day was what you said was important.”

“The thought of it is what counts above everything else, besides if you’re so worried about the day, I don’t know if it’s passed or not back home.”

The blush is slowly fading now, his fluster dying down till he looks more like his familiar lightly stoic self. Finally moving to sit down next to me rather than over at the opposite side avoiding looking at me but not before picking up his bag. Setting himself down with a sigh and a hand running through his hair. Hyping himself up by the look of it, it makes a lot of sense why he’s so nervous now that I know it’s his first time doing anything like this. I can probably take some of that stress away by simply giving him his first, hopefully, then he’ll feel less pressure. 

“Here, I got this for you at the recent village -”

His surprise is cute, I knew it’d be worth it to hand-decorate some paper to wrap it with. Even though it’s torn in a matter of seconds, anything is worth it for him.

“I saw how you were looking at it for ages - don’t worry I brought it myself and not out of the supply fund. Do you like it?”

“You… I didn’t expect it… it was so expensive.”

So getting him a cloak and the armour polish he was staring at longingly was the right idea. Wiping my savings might not have been as good, but I can earn it back fairly quickly if the others are still as bad with bets. He’s blushing a little as he passes me two neatly wrapped parcels.

“This is for you then I hope you’ll like it as much as I did.”

My breath catches in my throat as I unwrapped the first, and I’m greeted with the most beautiful leather-bound sketchbook. A quick glance at him as he gestures for me to open the other. These art supplies must have cost him so much, watercolours here are rare, all of these charcoal pencils too.

“Time you -”

“You said you missed drawing, that you wanted your own supplies. So when I saw them I knew they would be perfect… you do like them right?”

“I love them… than you so much link.”

It’s a bit of a struggle to stop myself from tearing up from how kind it was, thankfully he seems to have taken pity on me now as he cuddles up with me next to the fire. Moving me to lay against his side as we watched it crackle late into the night.