#how do you guys find your own fics on this website

[hihopelessromantics]

Through the Wall Chapter 2.5

A nanatsu no taizai fanfiction

hehehe I forgot to post this here. I hope whoever was reading this back in March sees this and knows that oops I am totally invested in writing things for this fandom now.

This one gets dark. Trigger warning for child/ infant abuse (ft the Demon King) and suicidal ideation (poor Meliodas, there's no way that specific issue didn't come up sometime before the curse)

Without further ado, here's this au's take on Meliodas meeting his brother for the first time.

~~

150 years ago. 

“So, the Demon King will have a second son?”

“If he’s strong enough, yes.” 

“Don’t come out until I call for you. Or until your sense your father’s return.”

With his breathy whisper fading into the air, Chandler stepped back, and clicked the door shut. His young pupil slumped over the moment he was out of sight, relinquishing a facade of stoic, unwavering strength. The boy wept, grateful for his first moment of true solitude in what felt like his whole life, and the chance to maybe do something about this worthless state of existence. He scrambled further back into the dark crawlspace of the, literally, godforsaken tower in what was comically his least favorite patch of rocky cliffs in the entire Demon Realm, which Chandler promptly told him five minutes ago was Meliodas’s own birthplace. How fitting. 

Retrieving a small knife from his boot and trying to shake the numbness of his mind, Meliodas kept crawling until he felt the floor drop out from under him. He launched themself down there, landing softly on all fours. The stench of flesh blood told him this was the place Chandler indicated - and the more unsettling stench of old blood, which he hadn’t mentioned, sparked a hint of an emotion Meliodas thought was dead. Curiosity. Cursing in his mind, he breathed in more deeply and actually took in his surroundings, but couldn’t find either any hint as to what could have happened here or an actual reason to investigate. Just old stonework and scattered cloth blankets. It’s not like he had any energy left to care. He had just enough to thank that old tutor of his for those cryptic, vague suggestions that meant Chandler probably wouldn’t be surprised if this little adventure ended up killing Meliodas if he did something wrong. Typical Chandler, he thought. But for once it suited him. Meliodas was tired of being a puppet with no chance to grow a connection to anyone or anything besides killing. He doubted his father’s other pawns minded much when he wasn’t around, and frankly couldn’t care less if the Demon Realm’s government couldn’t pull it together without him. If they had to work themselves to exhaustion, well, serves them right for putting it all on the shoulders of one child who wasn’t even allowed to feel. Oh yeah, and for calling him weak when he told them sometimes he wished he could join the ranks of the dead already. Fuck em. Still, he didn’t want his death propaganda-ized to the Celestial Realm and back, so he’d put the thought off. 

This was good. 

He breathed deeply, the scent of nearby blood as familiar to him as his own reflection. Damnnit, he wasn’t sure just how long he’d have to be alone down here, had no reason to believe it would be more than fifteen minutes, even, but he still wasn’t eager to stick a knife into his neck. I hate my life, Meliodas thought, and sank onto his back. I don’t even want to sleep. 

A garbled sound answered him. Meliodas hit his head on the top of the crawlspace with how quickly he sat up. The blankets were making sounds. He berated himself as he crawled toward the sounds: stupid, stupid, please, please you CAN’T . . . honestly. . . if it just one little sound gets your hearts racing like this, you won’t die OR be able to survive. 

He couldn’t have foreseen what he would encounter there in that crawlspace. The gurgling sounds, and the fresh blood, belonged to a baby who was staring up at the ceiling with a reasonable amount of annoyance. The expression on its little face changed drastically as it took in Meliodas’s stunned face. He didn’t know what to say to the poor thing except, “Must have been scary here all alone here, huh? You okay? You scared?” 

It gaggled as a response and smiled an ecstatic, toothless grin. Without any more hesitation, Meliodas tore off his shirt and jacket, using the former to clean off the baby as best he could before holding the little one snugly against him. He didn’t understand how the infant hadn’t died of insanity or whatnot after being down here god knows how long. Well, as long as he was here, at least one of them would be happy - he could ensure that much, considering all the stolen moments he had spent in the capital’s nursery. 

He didn’t know how long he was down there.

“You’re a sweet little one, aren’t you?” He teased, as the baby happily chomped on one of his fingers. Judging by its body temperature and willingness to play and interact with him, it seemed to be in decent health. 

“Ah. We should burn this, huh?” Meliodas looked to his now blood-crusted shirt. “Hey. . . wanna see something cool? Hellblaze.” The prince summoned the faintest hint of the fire inherent to his kind, gently and gradually increasing it as his new friend stared and cooed with the utmost excitement at the dark purple flame. The delight in those sparkling green eyes was divine. Meliodas was sorely tempted to teach the little one how to make his own flame, but it was so clearly and stunningly younger than the children he was used to. He couldn’t remember anything the castle staff or nurses said about that which they called infants, the youngest demons. But he remembered the sting of hellfire well enough to withdraw the idea almost immediately. 

“Ah - no, don’t eat it! Ssh, no, I’m not upset, I’m sorry I raised my voice, I’m sorry. It’s just, magic isn’t the safest thing, okay? You’ll learn when you get your own. It should be… ah… I don’t know, a couple of years? Decades? I only know I’m an exception, being a god’s son and all. So I’m not sure.” 

The baby settled back down into Mel’s arms like it belonged there, grabbing firmly for his hands again. “Let me protect you, okay?” He murmured, pressing their foreheads together. The baby gave a deep, rumbling purr. Reassured, Meliodas mimicked the sound as best he could, having, usually, no reason to make such a sound. 

“I wonder why you appeared in such a place. You have any idea? Nah, of course not. Not like it matters right? Mooooore importantly, do you know what I’m saying?” 

The baby only smiled. 

Playing, occasionally whispering stories to amuse himself with the little one’s reactions. Told him how lonely he was. He forgot it probably couldn’t understand language yet. The part of his mind he was willing to spare toward THINKING with any level of strenuousness occupied itself with the aches and pains and restlessness that made themselves known now that he was truly relaxed.

Eventually, Meliodas gave into the urge and summoned his darkness. It radiated off his body from under his skin, burning away any chill and curling around his limbs in a comforting manner. For some reason, in this moment, it felt more like a living being, like a friend, than ever before, and he felt so earnestly compelled to acknowledge it as such - despite being ordered not to by his father - that he did so. It was a shock to feel some sort of sensory pleasure spike through his body as soon as he had the thought, and he felt his darkness spread through his body on a deep exhale, melting into his cells instead of returning back to the box he’d been accustomed to forcing it into. This didn’t feel unsafe. It felt safer, like a defense mechanism or a bone returning to its proper place. Keeping his magic strangled like that did more than tire him out, he realized. 

He allowed himself a couple of minutes to stretch and adjust before settling back down to check on the little one. It was less content in the pile of blankets than in his arms, so he scooped it up again and tried lacing their fingers together. Still too small. Giddy at a sudden idea, he extended a tendril of darkness forward and curled it around his little friend’s tiny wrist. It shouted in delight, then went about touching and manipulating  Mel’s darkness however it could. Meliodas couldn’t stop smiling at how fascinated the baby was - and how gentle, too. As if the darkness was just another part of Mel’s body and it understood it could hurt him somehow. Not likely, but Mel had gone from being fascinated with what could be going on in the young demon’s mind, to being (oddly) certain of its feelings and intentions. Like it wasn’t difficult anymore. A couple of times it poked Mel’s hand or chest or cheek, even attempting to hold his wrist the way Meliodas always did to check his pulse. 

“I have seven hearts,” the demon prince informed an infant with no knowledge of what a heart was. “I think you have seven too. Oh, don’t be disappointed. You’re plenty special. Hm, see - your eyes are so much more lively and beautiful than mine, even though they’re the same green. ‘No two beings are entirely the same.’ Nurse Grequiene explained it to me once.” 

He went through about 90 or so names before finding one that felt right. He apologized for not knowing any proper infant names as, according to one of his nannies, it was traditional and had been a big deal when the crown prince himself wasn’t given one to begin with.  Meliodas relayed as much of that conversation as he could remember: ‘There wouldn’t have been any of this fuss had you been given the chance to pick one out like all the other kids,’ he’d said, dabbing away at a stain on his bedroom floor. ‘We haven’t respected your father much since, as you know. The castle staff is nonexistent to him. As long as we stay out of the upper floors of the castle we’re never fired, just shuffled around or - well I shou- I won’t burden you with the details now, just know that what you say to us we will keep in confidence. That controlling bastard can only go so far. Remember that. Might have had to go drastic with that nasty rumor to get your sire to let you pick your name like all the other demon kids, but we did it, didn’t we?’

“Naturally, I pestered them for ages about what the rumor was. And it was more wild than I could have hoped for. Turns out! There were demons who dedicated that the goddess queen must have helped to create me after my father refused to let me be community-raised or to pick my own name after I was old enough to understand what that involved. They said I must not be a full demon, because if I was, why would he need to exert so much control over me and discard generations of tradition? Yeah. My father wasn’t pleased with that rumor. He couldn’t find the source, though. By the time he noticed it was just “everywhere,” supposedly, and he opted to pretend the whole situation never happened.” 

The baby listened with interest. The fingers playing with Mel’s golden locks yanked, and he leaned down to accommodate the little one’s stimming. 

“You know what else is interesting?” Inquisitive green eyes stared back at his, and despite its young age the babe looked very much as if eager to share in some conspiracy Mel was about to engage in. Even though it was just words, it could not be more delighted with them, and that was a power Meliodas reveled in. 

“I like you. I like you a lot. Even though I barely know you - I feel like I’m learning, don’t get me wrong. But it’s not like I just trust - or like - people on sight. This is . . . a new thing for me. Oh, and, thank you. I’m a little sleepy right now and can’t recall why, but I feel like I should be thanking you.” 

Let’s go to sleep now, okay? Sweet dreams! 

He didn’t know how many times he’d said that -

Before the thump of a hurried landing reverberated throughout the crawlspace. 

Hm?

Ah. That voice sounded familiar but he didn’t want to hear it. Babe in his arms, he retreated backward, sensing the presence was right about him. Sensing him.

“Hm? No, you’re safe! Come out, come here to me, I -”

“No. Go. Go away.”

“What? No - curses - Young Master!”

Meliodas hissed threateningly and stabbed at the hand reaching out for him with his darkness.

“He’s gone delusional . . . here, here -” 

Suddenly there was air moving freely around him and then he was landing, hard, on the wooden floor of the tower - not occurring to him that there was a trapdoor, he stared dumbfounded up at the familiar face that was rather completely ruining his nice evening.

“Ah - Young Master, put that back.”

“Wha…?”

Pointing at the precious babe in his arms. 

“Put that back, we need to go.”

“No, no, I’m not going anywhere. And there’s no way I’m leaving “that” here!”

Chandler looked at him as if he hadn’t heard or understood. “Young Master, you have to come with me. We must leave shortly.”

“No.”

“You have to. Now,” he repeated, looking downright frightened, but Meliodas only looked down at the precious bundle in his arms and shook his head wildly. The older man’s darkness locked tighter, tighter around Meliodas’s arms, the firm grip reminding Mel of his own hold on the child he’d just met, and he looked up, taking in his tutor’s face for the first time. Pleading. With all of his heart. 

“Please. I like it here.”

“Now is not the time for jokes. Darkness below, you . . .” The older man measured Meliodas’s face once more and, seeming to come to a conclusion, sighed. “Alright.”

His face split apart into a smile. “Thank you, Ch -”

And his vison went black. 

When he woke up, he woke up alone in his bedroom.

Yes, the training was a massive success, he proved quite sturdy. 

He did not move or attempt to get up. He was alone once more, that he knew, and in that moment, that was all he needed to know. 

I promised to protect . . .

I promised. I promised.

You put your hands on me. It wasn’t even training and you hurt me.

He had been out for quite some time, attended to by some very concerned staff at all times. He couldn’t find it in himself to be grateful, though he smiled and thanked them all the same when he finally regained the strength to do so. 

After all,

We have doomed a life to death.

“Meliodas?” 

The voice was tentative. Chandler - no, the old man - had done well in giving him his space, as Meliodas did not know himself if Chandler’s blood would not have stained the floor, should he have come close. 

He missed the fact he was called by name.

“Meliodas, I have some good news I know you’ll love.”

No, I’ll never love anything, ever again. 

And I’ll soon be dead. I refuse to live.

“Come to the throne room. Your father has promised a lovely surprise. Yes, I know it makes you anxious, but you have to go now. And I’m sure you’ll love it.”

He didn’t answer. Just silently dressed himself and walked out, the perfect picture of the poised, proper prince, all the way to the throne room. This would be the first of his father’s surprises to truly surprise him. Which is exactly how his father expected it. Everything would be how his father expected it. 

Again.

“You have a brother,” announced the Demon King. 

That jolted Meliodas right out of his thoughts fast enough that he almost made a facial expression. The Demon King laughed heartily. 

“He has passed the test, as you have, and I am proud to welcome him into the royal family. He has no name and nothing to call his own yet. You shall look after him from this point forward.” 

“I will do as you will. The task - it pleases me.” The response was somehow spoken in a steady tone despite the whirlwind of emotions making him want to sink to his knees and melt into a puddle of blessedly free liquid. “I’ve never had a brother before,” he tacked on, not really knowing how his father knew his brother was a brother and oh yeah, he didn’t care much for being considerate, did he? Oh fucking well. 

“I imagine so!” laughed his father. “Come here, child.”

Meliodas did so, and his father with his great statue plucked up a small bundle of cloths from the ground and placed it with insufficient caution in his sons (not waiting) arms. To his own horror, Meliodas caught the babe swiftly and in but a moment had it secure . . . cradling gently . . . just as he had with his little friend who at this very moment was surely dead and quite heartbroken. Hearts protesting this state of existence, and probably the fact he had forgotten air as a necessity, he sucked in air and practically choked on it.

His father laughed, genuinely amused at his carefully crafted son’s loss of composure. “What is the matter, son? Is he not to your liking? Ah! You haven’t even seen him yet. Yes, yes, let me take - that - off and let you see.” 

He peeled the blankets away and revealed a very annoyed-looking infant with striking green eyes. “The audacity . . .” Those eyes seemed to say. “What the fuck are you trying to do, kill me?” 

Meliodas took another deep breath.

“Fantastic, isn’t it?”

He said nothing, very much preferring to say nothing to that man and not caring if he couldn’t get away with it this time. The babe - his brother, though he should laugh at the thought. How could THAT possibly be? - had reached up to pull a strand of golden hair into his mouth. 

“His name is Zeldoris.” 

Those were the first words he had willingly spoken since regaining consciousness. 

And it was the first time he dared to smile in front of his father. It was an angry kind of smile. Something the Demon King deserved well and good. It spoke every bit of both Meliodas’s and Zeldris’s wrath toward being put in their situation. And it was gone as quickly as it came.

“Very good,” replied his father, who for god knows what reason seemed pleased his firstborn child was furious, and was definitely - as Mel decided later - oblivious to the real cause. “The servants will show you the appropriate room to put him in.”

~~

“Why is Meliodas refusing to speak to you?”

“I do not know, Master, but I imagine he is irritated as of late. His temper is quite something, and he sure knows how to direct his frustration.”

“Well, that is no worry at all. It’s not as if Zeldoris is getting older any faster, ha. Still. I didn’t assign him to you for you to be meek and docile and his personal punching bag. You better keep him in line, you hear? Don’t let me catch you making a fool out of that boy.”

“Yes, I know, Master. And your boy is no fool. I’m quite proud of him, actually.  He takes no insult sitting down. The soldiers shall fear his wrath and crave his - and yours by natural extension - approval.”

“Good. That is how it should be. And, if he does continue to treat you with such disrespect - or refuse to talk to you for any extended period of time -  tell me at once.”

“As you will, Master.”

~~

Meliodas’s resolve to never speak warmly to Chandler held firm. And Chandler did not say a word about it.

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

Special thanks to @7-ratsinatrenchcoat for helping me figure out how I want to approach writing the wacky old man that is canon Chandler and special thanks to @zorria for previewing this for me to make sure it makes sense and is fit for Reader Consumption.

Let me know if you want me to clarify any of the plot for this one!

[moonchild1]

jeon jungkook fic rec list (Ⅸ)

hi everyone wow it's really been a while and i'm on list 9 already damnnn that's alot and list 10 is like half way complete already... soooo you might notice a change in the set up this time around i liked how it looked on my ao3 list so i added it here as well, i absolutely love this list like i've gone over this list a million times it's filled with alot of fics i was absolutely obsessed with, you know how attached i get to the characters and this list holds quite a few of them too so i hope you enjoy reading them as much as i did and you fall for them too... remember to give lots of love to the authors of these fics they are absolute geniuses and deserve all the respect and love in this world for creating these beautiful fics and sharing it with us so be sure to give them a follow, like and reblog or even leave a little comment i'm 100% percent sure it would mean alot to them 🥺🖤 also as these fics contain smut no under minors allowed/interact... if you would like to share some of your favourites or just wanna ramble about fics you love send me an ask i love hearing from you guys and happy reading everyone till next time ✨🖤

a- angst s- smut f-fluff

series

dreamcatchers by @ggukcangetit f a

↬  DI Jeon didn’t need a new partner. Unfortunately, his superiors felt otherwise; especially considering the extremely high-profile murder that had just taken place in the port city. Recent transfer, DI Choi Yuri finds herself confronted with a new cityscape, unfamiliar people, a hostile partner, and a homicide that is certain to bring back unpleasant memories.  

block party by @minlucent f s a

↬ moving into your new apartment brings back memories of your biggest mistake. neighbours au e2l

a little bit of your heart by @yoongiofmine f s a ft. myg

↬ you had everything you could ever dream of; the career of your dreams as a music producer, the best friends you could ever wish for, and a exes-turned-friends-turned-fuck-buddies relationship with min yoongi. you knew you and yoongi would never move past that and you were okay with it. Until a friend from your past comes back into your life, offering to give you everything you deserve, everything yoongi couldn’t. Will jungkook show you what you’ve been missing? Or will the new guy threaten yoongi enough to do something about it? 

lost stars by @/yoongiofmine f s a

↬ Jungkook was lost. He didn’t know who he was anymore, so he decided to leave and find himself. But he wasn’t expecting to find you along the way, an island girl who has no idea who he is. Jungkook has a secret. But so do you. idol au s2l

secrets we keep by @/yoongiofmine f s a

↬ Being a camgirl was never your main goal in life, but when the pandemic hit and you lost your job, you were desperate. Now, two years later, the world is back to normal and  you are one of the top creators of OnlyChingu; the South Korean version of OnlyFans. A website where idols hide behind anonymous profiles in search of that connection they lost during lockdown. Jungkook was never into this type of stuff. Until he ran into you. He knows you’re his perfect girl, his ideal type. Will he be able to put his own insecurities aside when chasing you? Or will you let the secrets you keep ruin you? idol au

i hate you, i love you by @jungblue s a

↬ You hated him at seven, warmed up to him at twelve, and liked him at fifteen. Now the two of you are twenty years old and inseparable best friends… and you’re absolutely in love with him; he’s in love too—just not with you. 

fatal attraction by @jungcock s a ft. kth

↬ your dangerous ex-boyfriend comes back to haunt you in more ways than one. exes au serial killer thriller

pub golf by @taleasnewastime f s

↬ One night. One stupidly hot man, who just keeps appearing in every pub you go to. Six friends. Nine pubs. Nine drinks. Ten million stupid rules. Let the chaos begin. s2l

animal by @cutaepatootie f s a

↬ boxer jungkook au ANGST

things you don't know by @btsgotjams27 a

↬ It’s been seven years since you last saw the boy that broke your heart. After moving back home, you try everything you can to avoid seeing him around town, but destiny has a wicked way of doing the opposite.

entangled by @caelesjjk f s a ft. kth

↬ Jeon Jungkook is Spider-Man. He saved your life twice. But he’s also been your sweet lab partner in college for the past two years and now someone who is more than just a friend. You care about him…maybe even love him. But something tells you that you aren’t quite sure what love even is. How could you when you have feelings for someone else as well? Kim Taehyung is the handsome stranger you’ve seen around campus and somehow ended up dancing with at Club Onyx. You were upset that Jungkook had stood you up once again and Taehyung made you feel like you were on top of the world. What you didn’t know that night, is the dark secret Taehyung is trying desperately to hide, but the closer the two of you get the more difficult that becomes.

when the end comes by @oddinary4bts f s a

↬ Seven years after you've started dating Jungkook, long distance creates a wedge in your relationship. When the only solution seems to be breaking up, you go your separate ways even though love still lives in the two of you. Will you find a way back together, or has the end come for you and Jeon Jungkook?

new girl by @jjkeverlast f s a

↬ after finding out your boyfriend of 6 years cheated on you, you find yourself moving in with three guys in a loft. what could possibly go wrong?

horizon by @/sokooks f s a

↬ The way you approached life had started to break down Jungkook's emotional barriers. Jungkook couldn't deny that he was drawn to you in a way that was entirely new and unfamiliar. You had become more than just an assignment; you had become someone he genuinely cared about. It was the way you made him feel. With you, he felt more human than he had in a long time. Despite his best efforts to remain detached, his heart had other plans. angel au

searching for nirvana by @/sokooks f s a

↬ he shouldn't be here. he shouldn't be touching you the way he was- but he was here before him. he was your friend, not him. he knew your body, not him. he wanted to be the only one to touch you the way you liked. he he wanted you to remember that. despite the fact that he already had someone waiting for him. best friends au cheating au.

twelve hours by @whatifyoulivelikethat s a

↬ you have twelve hours to make jeon jungkook fall in love with you. he's about to get married. you're the entertainment at his bachelor party - a burlesque dancer. long ago, he used to be the class representative and you used to be the class delinquent. nothing has changed and, yet, everything has.

when it all... by @7deadlysinsfics f a

↬ what’s there to do when your husband says he thinks he doesn’t love you anymore? you pick up the broken pieces the best you can and try to move on

better than me ? by @/7deadlysinsfics f s a

↬ jungkook is clear on what you both are to each other. still, he doesn’t want you to think anyone else is better than him

our first and our last by @thedefinitionofbts f a ft ot7

↬ The first time you met Jeon Jungkook was on your tenth birthday. On that day, he was nothing more than the strange man who jumped into a dark portal that suddenly opened in the middle of the park. The ten year old you just stood in the grass, strands of hair ruffling from the calm breeze that swooped by; head slightly tilted, bright, innocent eyes wide open and staring at him with wonder and disbelief. There was a certain amount of confusion, but your young mind was too naïve to question his actions or what they entailed. soulmate au

dancer in the dark by @gwoongi f s a

↬ Money can’t buy you happiness. Jeongguk, for the longest time, thinks he’s happy. Truthfully, Jeongguk doesn’t know what happiness is until you find him. rockstar au

together by @httpjeon f s a ft.pjm

↬domestic!au, couple!au, stoner!au, gamer!au

hot bot by @/httpjeon f s

↬ purchasing a Hot Bot wasn’t exactly something you ever really planned on. when you do, however, it sends your life down a path of convoluted government schemes and dark secrets.

stardust by @iamtaekooked f

↬ You didn’t believe in soulmates until you lay your eyes on Jeon Jeongguk, the younger brother of your best friend’s husband. That is when you see the red string beginning encircled around your pinky and ending in his

serendipity by @rohobi f s a

↬ After you reveal your inexperienced sexual status to your best friend, Jungkook grapples with the news, startled by the idea that the girl he always thought could get anyone, is a virgin. After finding his porn at 3AM, you decide that maybe it’s about time to stain the white sheets of your world with the colors of a forbidden fruit Jungkook seems to have in the palm of his hands.

chasing shadows by @colormepurplex2 s a

↬ Your job gets you into trouble sometimes. Who would have thought crime journalism would put so many targets on your back? But, it’s happening again, someone’s threatening you. Only, this time, it’s not just you that’s in the crosshairs. Your best friend, Enola, is out on assignment and can’t help like she usually does. So, what does she do instead? She sends her brother, Jungkook, armed with a magic bag, a charming smile, and deductive reasoning skills that prove his worth as one of the best PI’s around.

I gasp once, and in that breath, I accept you in by @inkofyoonkoo f s a

↬ In which Jungkook arrives to your small town to spend the holidays, and you slowly let go of all the ghosts of your past. s2l fwb au

sweet nothing by @adonis-koo f s a

↬ Being a guest at the Jeon Estate after a mishap of being kidnapped and dragged into your brothers affairs isn’t all that bad. Truth be told it brings you a lot closer to the mobster and owner of the estate Jeon Jungkook himself. His two rules are simple, don’t cause trouble and don’t give him a hard time. Somehow you manage to constantly do both in the most endearing way despite being pregnant and waddling around most of the time.

three's a crowd by @/adonis-koo s a ft. jimin

↬ When your mom’s fairytale life begins to bleed over into your world you’re suddenly caught between two men and one big secret, what was supposed to be a relaxing trip soon begins to spiral out of control. All you wanted was a free vacation… ceo au

sleepwalking by @taexual f s a

↬ due to unfortunate circumstances, you ended up managing your ex-boyfriend’s band. you thought you’ve both made peace with it, but suddenly he’s very eager to prove to you that first love never dies.

empty space by @ahundredtimesover f s a

↬ It started as friendship, turned to a casual fuck, then ended in heartbreak. Turns out, he wasn’t who he said he was, and years later he enters your life again, forcing you to face all the emotions you’d been trying to bury. 

OR Officer Jeon looks really hot in his uniform and you wish you didn’t hate him as much as you do.

as the world burns around us by @today-we-will-survive a

↬ You haven’t seen the sun in two years. The Virus wiped out a good three quarters of the world’s population and then the wars that followed wiped out half of that. After everything happened, it was only a matter of time before the different countries started blaming each other and emptied their nuclear arsenals. You’re still surprised Seoul survived – if you can call what it has become “surviving”

hotter than hell by @chateautae f s a

↬ jungkook, lucifer and king of hell, has been cast out of the crimson underworld for a reason he’s unsure of. embarking on his journey for the answer should’ve been easy, if it weren’t for you, the human that nurses his wounded body in her home, and accidentally witnesses the truth of his identity. kickstarting a hellish adventure with the devil himself, you discover lucifer is the most infuriating company ever; and jungkook finds out that maybe his answer to returning home lies within his annoying human confidant.

to turn a bad thing good by @/chateautae f s a

↬ jungkook’s drunken one night stand goes awry when he comes to learn not only is he being forced into an arranged marriage, but it’s to the very girl he abandoned that night—and things get a lot more complicated when you’re the best hookup he’s ever had.

J’aime by @baepop f s a

↬ You’re the newest hire at a local café and head barista Jeon Jungkook takes you under his wing.

Written in the Stars by @/baepop f s a ft. kth

↬ You’re the girl of Jungkook’s dreams, literally. The only problem: you’re taken by his best friend

make me forget by @roseannekook f s a

↬ You are the lead vocalist and main dancer of your company’s first girl group, but on the fourth promotion of your debut song things don’t go as planned. At the brink of an uprising scandal, you seek refuge in the bathroom stalls…and find it in the arms of no one else but BTS’ golden maknae Jeon Jungkook.

one of your girls by @ggukiepie s a ft. pjm

↬ fwb au college au fuck boy au inspired by the song

boy in luv by @/ggukiepie f s a

↬ just two idiot best friends in l*ve college!au, bff!jk, athlete!jk, student council president oc, cheerleader!oc

the boy who left by @/gujoonim a

↬ As your eyes staring deeply into your possible client-to-be’s eyes, something crossed your mind, it was that pair of eyes that you were looking for when you being abandoned at the aisle on your wedding day. ceo au

love sewn by @jvnghxope s a

↬ You’ve never cared about the thin-as-paper walls of your beloved apartment until Jeon Jungkook moved next door. You could hear everything –from his late-night parties on Saturday, to the quality time he spent with his girlfriend in the intimacy of his bedroom. One day, everything ceases. Days turn into weeks, weeks turn into months and you find yourself knocking his door before you can think it twice.

not yet by f s @bratkook f s a

↬ jungkook feels the pang of guilt in his gut when you spot your recent ex out with his new girl, and what better way to make the jerk hurt than to have him believe you were now dating him, the neighbor he had been insecure about your whole relationship.

one shot

blazes of deceit by @periminkle f a

↬ when the opportunity to finally venture past the stone walls you’ve grown up in presents itself, you jump at the chance to discover the origin of those mysterious lights—even if the trip comes with a harsh truth and a suspicious, yet undoubtedly attractive, tour guide. tangled au disney au

southpaw by @starshapedkookie f s a

↬ Knowing Jeon Jungkook for the better part of your life, you thought you knew everything about him. Well, that was before you two disappeared from each other’s lives at least. When Jungkook suddenly finds himself buying you a coffee to rekindle your friendship, it leads to much more than you bargained for.

house of cards by @jeonggukingdom s a

↬ What does safe mean when you are chased by zombies, when every corner you turn could be the last one for you? What do words like home and future mean when you’re always on the run and every moment could be your last? They mean nothing and everything at the same time and Jeongguk is all of the above. He is your safe haven, he is your home and he is your future. But things like that crumble easily in your world.

enouement by @littlemisskookie s a

↬ War is Hell, but it’s what you had to do to take your brother’s place. Of course, between the days of Hell are little slices of Heaven you’d call your Captain, Jeon Jungkook. mulan au disney au

miss taken by @junghelioseok f s

↬you pride yourself on being a professional, but sometimes your students' parents really test your patience. single parent dilfjk jk e2l

the ex text by @shadowkoo f s a

↬ The 2 AM texts have started again. It’s a bittersweet familiarity that you can’t run away from, and despite wishing to forget him: no one will ever measure up to the exceptional standard set by your ex, and you’ll never have anyone as good as him either. Like a permanent mark on your heart, Jungkook’s presence has become an insatiable craving, an addiction you'll never outgrow or cast aside.

the proposal by @hansolmates f s a

↬Jeon’s the editor-in-chief for Big Hit Publishings, a closet romantic with a penchant for antagonizing his assistant on the reg. When his work visa is in the process of being renewed and he takes a trip to Norway, his eligibility to stay in America is on the line. However Jeon Jungkook doesn’t go without a fight, and in order to save his job he offers you a proposal you can't refuse. based on the movie the proposal e2l

red and gold by @/thedefinitionofbts f s

↬It’s no secret that genius, billionaire, international playboy, and philanthropist- Jeon Jungkook, better known as the CEO of Jeon Industries-and even better known as Iron Man, is one of the most intelligent, wealthy, and powerful men in the world. There’s nothing that can get to him or his ego, that is, until you happen to show up and give him a run for his money. 

burning bright by @snackhobi s

↬there are no secrets in the drift. if jungkook were to see the mess inside your head and heart, laid utterly bare, he’d turn away from you. based on the movie pacific rim

but we loved young by @jl-micasea-fics s a

↬Jungkook is everything you’re not, the ying to your yang. Your tight knit friendship nurtured from childhood survived the major life events that most don’t, and to that end, you suppose you’re fated to be together, until unrequited longing is eventually noticed, and boundaries are forever crossed.

the shoulder on which you cry by @lemonjoonah f s a ft. knj

↬ after moving away from your hometown five years ago, you’ve struggled on every return. each trip back being made out of haste due to an unfortunate event in your life. namjoon has always been there to help you through those moments. but when he can’t be there to support you during your current trip home, jungkook offers to stay by your side and be the comfort you need. 

illusion of choice by @hobibliophile f s a

↬ You’ve grown up with the Jeons, Jungmin and Jungkook, for as long as you can remember, your parents being very close. But little did you know that this is because you are in fact arranged to be married to the Jeon heir, Jungmin. However, a tragedy causes Jungkook to take up his brother’s mantle, and that includes becoming your fiancé.

the blue princess and her red rose by @/cutaepatootie f s a

↬ After all, he was her red rose, while she was just another one of the many blue roses that grew in the dying gardens of Greyria. princess au

rigor mortis by @readyplayerhobi f s a

↬ A night out at a bar results in you going home with a young and attractive police officer. But if you think the night was something to remember, that’s nothing compared to waking up to find a zombie outbreak in the city. A chance encounter with Officer Jeon leads to him helping you escape from the plague infested city.

lowkey by @joonbird s

↬ Jungkook is the nude model for your art school’s life drawing class.

part-time lover by @sketchguk f s a

↬there is no crime more perfect than marrying jeon jeongguk. your relationship is nothing more than a ruse - while your friends pester you for being perpetually single, jeongguk desperately needs a wife to complete the pristine image of a family, fooling his way through the parent interview at the nation’s most prestigious private school. only time will tell how deep your lies will run as you find home in one another’s minds. because untangled in the moonlight, he is but a spy, exposing a secret world of corruption, and you, an assassin, ridding the streets of danger one hit at a time. 

sweet apple biscuits by @rosaetae a

↬ a story about someone who receives letters from themselves ten years in the future and asks them to fix all their regrets and save a particular boy. inspired by the anime 'orange'

i'll be home by @wwilloww f s a ft.knj

↬ When your first love, Jungkook, disappeared from your village five years ago, no one thought he would return, let alone on the night of your betrothal to another man. 

white lies by @noteguk f s a

↬ in which Jungkook lies his way out of and into trouble. But he can’t tell white lies when it comes to you. 

yes coach by @/taleanewastime s

↬ You play in a local netball team and as a new season starts you have a new coach. Enter Jungkook, he may look soft, but he turns out to be a hard taskmaster, one who ruffles your feathers when he makes some changes to the team. Tensions grow between you through the weeks, until they finally reach breaking point.

spf 50 by @gimmeyoon f s

 ↬ If you have to spend your summer home from college working a job you hate, it might as well include sitting by the pool with Jungkook. Now if only kids could stop vomiting in it.

fifth wish by @jiminrings f a

↬ jeon jungkook, world-class socialite and nepotism baby, should be out every night to celebrate while he’s at his prime. why should he fake-date his bodyguard instead? alternatively, jungkook regularly throws coins to wishing wells with only one desire in mind — to get rid of you.

blacklisted by @/httpjeon s a ft. kth

↬after departing from your dom, you’re assigned to two incredibly powerful men.

↬looking for other jjk fics or the other members check out my library

[mooooonnnzz]

Can you PLEASE write about being stans daughter!!!! I read about being ford's and now I need to know about having stan as your dad 🩷🩷

Love You Forever and Forever

Stanley Pines x child/teen!reader

ᥬ✿ stanley goes by his actual name instead of stanford

ᥬ✿ 3,7k words oops

ᥬ✿ fem reader!

ᥬ✿ requests r still oppennn :3

ᥬ✿ book of bill website spoilers kinda? would u consider one of stans shame a spoil?

ᥬ✿ tw stans drinking alcohol is mentioned but in past tense!

ᥬ✿ mention of fords dad fic it makes sense when u read it

Stan wasn’t typically someone who wanted kids. He would have occasional drifting thoughts about how he’d have stories to tell for days if he had a little kid of his own. Those thoughts didn’t hold much meaning to them, they were just a little fantasy he would delve into whenever he had the chance. It seems like the universe heard his "calls" and being the reckless fool he is, he managed to get a woman he briefly fooled around with pregnant. 

How did he find that out? 

One day during the slow hours of the Mystery Shack, a knock was heard. Stan groaned, who could be knocking at his door? Shoving the newly counted dollar bills in his pocket, he grabbed his 8-ball-themed cane, in case he had to beat someone with it, and walked to the door. Pulling it open, there before him stood a beautiful woman. A moment of recognition sparked in his brain, but he was quickly blinded by her beauty and that feeling was instantly forgotten. The smell of her rich perfume filled Stan’s nostrils. Upon smelling the potent perfume, four words circled his brain. ‘Pretty Babe Who Has Money’

Leaning on his cane, he flashed a smug yellow-toothed smile at the woman. “What’s a beautiful woman like you doing this deep in the woods?” 

“That won’t work on me a second time, Stanley Pines.” She growled, glaring at him so deeply he could feel her glare in his soul. Stan’s relaxed attitude was quick to dry up. “S-Second time? Do I know you?” 

“As expected,” She mutters to herself, rolling her eyes. “I’m just going to cut to the chase here, Stan.” Shifting the baby that was settled on her hip, she cleared her throat. “I don’t care that you stole money from me, that’s fine. Whatever,” she says with a shrug. “But as for karma, I give you back your baby.” 

The color drains from Stan’s face. “Hah, baby?” Stan uncomfortably chuckled. He opened his mouth to question where the baby was when it was quite literally right in his face. His jaw goes slack at the sight of his supposed baby sleeping soundly on her shoulder. “Look, lady. You got the wrong guy!” He pushed the door, but before it could fully close the woman shoved her foot in between the door. “Don’t do this to me, Stan. Or I will leave this baby on your porch and leave.” She threatens, kicking the door open with her heel. “Take the baby so we’re even.”

“I don’t even know who you are. For all I know, you could be lying to me.” Stan said, closing his eyes and lifting his chin up in defiance. 

“Oh, that’s rich coming from you.” She scoffed. “Barbara, Barabara Smith.” 

That’s when the dots started connecting for Stan. Memories of him and Barabara resurface in his mind. That's why he felt that twinge of familiarity when he saw her. “It’s all coming back to you now, huh?” She rested a hand on her hip, tapping her foot impatiently on the floor. 

“Barbara!” Stan smiled awkwardly, finally remembering the woman who stood before him. “H-How have you been?” He uncomfortably laughed, trying to alleviate the tension that swallowed them whole. “Oh, I’m just swell.” Her eyes narrowed angrily at him. 

“So, about the baby…!” He leaned towards her, pulling a roll of cash from his pocket. “Why don’t I pay you a few hundred bucks and you can take the baby, how’s about that?” 

“You’re despicable, Stanley Pines.” She said with a deep scowl. 

Shoving the baby to his chest, she slammed the door shut. A blubbering mess of words spilled out of Stan in shock. In a quick flash, he opened the door and stepped out onto the porch. The woman was already in her car and sliding her keys into the ignition. “Are you sure you don’t want to keep the baby?” He yelled over the loud rumbling of her car, covering the baby's ear to block out the loud noises. 

As she backed out of her parking spot, she rolled down her window and stuck a middle finger to Stan before driving off; leaving a cloud of dust behind her path. Stan sighed. What just happened? 

Walking back into the shack defeated, he looked at the baby who awoke in his arms. “Guess you're stuck with me, kid.” 

ꨄ︎ Having no knowledge of how to take care of a baby surely did make taking care of you hard. Unlike Ford, he doesn’t spend countless hours researching and reading books about babies to gain at least some understanding. Instead, he faces the situation head-on with little to no insight on how to take care of you. “Alright, kid.” He says, slapping his hands together. “Let’s figure out a way to take care of you.” He stares at you sitting on the sofa chair for a minute or so, waiting for you to cry, laugh, or even let out a sound. Unfortunately for Stan, all you did was stare back at him with your big eyes. “Are you gonna do anything…?” He scratches his cheek. Moments go by and still nothing comes out of you. Stan is left stumped, completely and utterly stumped. But does this convince him to finally grab a book and actually do something that benefits him? Absolutely not! He instead forms a plan in his head. He leaves the living room and has you all by yourself for a second. You don’t budge. All you did was stare thoughtlessly at the doorway where he left. Peeking his head into the living room, he saw your face brighten up. “Huh,” He says, surprised. He wasn’t expecting that to work. Drawing his head back, out the corner of his eye, he saw your smile falter. Peeking his head back in, you smiled, laughing in joy. Needless to say, Stan was amused and continued this game of peekaboo with you until a herd of customers crowded the front porch. 

ꨄ︎ Feeding you wasn’t too hard! He did consider feeding you brown beef, but after reading the ingredients that were on the can, he decided against it. What he chose to do was to feed you what he had for breakfast. He had eggs for breakfast? Then he’d make scrambled eggs and give them to you. He didn’t have a high chair so he just sat you on the table and let you eat from his plate. He didn’t mind that you made a mess with your food. He found it rather endearing. “Good food, kid?” He’d ask you after every meal. “Yah!” You gurgled out, mouth full of breakfast. “Woah, careful. Don’t want you choking on your food.” At some point, during a quick run to the grocery store, he found some baby food and a high chair. He purchased them and when he arrived home, he couldn’t stop blabbering to you. “I completely forgot they had baby food at the stores,” Stan said, smacking his head with the underside of his hand. “Did you know?” He looks over to you. You responded with a smile. “Good to know I wasn’t the only crazy one here.” He walks over to you and picks you up, setting you down on the high chair. “Does this make you feel fancy?” He grabs baby food and with the spoon that came with it, he scooped it up and fed it to you. Luckily for him, you weren’t extremely picky on your food. You’d eat just about anything he would hand you. “You like my cooking better than this junk,” He would say after feeding you the baby food. “Right, kid?”

ꨄ︎ He would be lying if he didn’t find himself completely attached to you by the second day. He thought it couldn’t get worse, but during work, when he was showcasing all these different fake monsters to the tourists; all he could think about was your little chubby face and your cute laugh. There would be times when he’d close the shack early, just so he could spend some time with you. “A little birdie told me that you were missing me.” He said, picking up from your crib. “Isn’t that right, sweet pea?” He worked around this issue by implementing you in his museum of mysterious monsters. “Behold!” He pulled back the curtains, revealing you in a little sheep costume. “Half human baby, half sheep!” The crowd aw's at your cuteness. “The baby baa’s like a sheep when you throw money at her!” 

ꨄ︎ Picking out clothes was something he prided himself in. He would deck you down in the cutest dress and purposefully stroll down the street with you in his arms for people to coo and aww at you and him. “Your daughter is so cute!” Someone would say and you’d be sleeping on his shoulder, rocking a cute bow on your head that he bought you. “Oh, I know. She has my cuteness.” Stan proudly said. He meant that sentence with all of his soul. Yes, you do have his cuteness and if anyone else told him otherwise, he will argue back. 

ꨄ︎ Teaching you how to walk was one of the many prideful moments he had with you. Slightly crouched down, he held onto your little hands. You wobbled around, not accustomed to using your feet. “This is gonna be trial and error, kid. But as long as you’re with me, it’s going to be easy peasy.” Taking a cautious step back, he watches as you lift your leg up. Stan’s lit up, your foot stomping down on the ground. “Good, good. Now your other foot.” With your other foot, you raised it up. Shifting from side to side, you let out a scared babble. “It’s okay, sweet pea. I got you. No need to worry.” He assured you. Hearing his soothing words motivated you to continue on. With a deep breath, you moved your foot forward and stomped down. Pure delight and joy drummed through Stan’s body as he scooped you up from the floor and carefully embraced you. “That’s my girl!” he cheered happily.

ꨄ︎ The first time you called him Dad was when he was watching TV and you were on your playmat, playing with all the toys Stan bought you. The TV displayed a daughter and father, and you took notice of how she kept calling him Dad. Connecting two and two, you flipped back and forth to Stan and the TV. For a few minutes you were humming out words and Stan would smile at you and call you a cutie. At some point, he figured out what you were trying to say and picked you up. Putting you on his lap, he looked at you expectantly, hanging on to every single noise and gurgle you made. “What are you trying to say, sweet pea?” Chewing on your fingers you finally managed to say Dad. “Dada!” Stan is solid as a statue. Did you just call him Dad? He doesn’t process it fully at first but when you decide to say it again, tears begin to well up in his eyes. “I’m not crying, pea. I just got some of your baby spit in my eye!” He gave you extra snacks that day, and maybe every other day after that. 

ꨄ︎ Your first birthday was one to remember, for him at least. Initially, he was going to invite the whole town over to celebrate such a big milestone, but he was rudely reminded of a memory when he tried to celebrate his own birthday and no one even bothered to show up. So he kept it between you and him. At first, he attempted to make your cake but when that ended in shambles he chose to go to the store and buy you a cake. Bringing you along, he buckled you into your car seat. Starting up his car, he started driving into the road. While driving Stan couldn’t remember the last time he was so excited to do something. How long has it been since he’s felt pure joy in his life? Since he had company that was equally happy to be around him. He can’t remember a life without you and that scares him, but just a quick glance at you calms his nerves and he feels at peace. He never knew how much of an effect you’d have on him. Stepping out of the car and into the supermarket, he searched. Pushing the cart that had you in it, he looked at you when he reached the cakes. “Which one do you want, pumpkin?” With a back-and-forth conversation that had him do most of the talking, he decided on a small vanilla cake that had strawberry frosting slathered on it. He placed it inside the cart and continued strolling on. At some point, he picked up some balloons and candles. “Should I buy you a happy birthday banner?” He said as he put the packet inside the cart. After purchasing all of the birthday items, he left the store and drove home. Setting up the decorations for him was a blast. And soon enough, the whole kitchen was gorgeously decorated for your birthday. Placing you in the high chair, he gave you a tiny piece of cake. “Happy birthday, sweetie.” His party hat was drooping sideways along with yours. “Thank you for showing me unconditional love.” He planted a kiss on your forehead. 

ꨄ︎ Years went by and suddenly Stan was crouching down on the floor, slipping your backpack on you for your first day of school. “You ready for school, sweet pea?” Stan asked. You spun around, a small pout sprouting on your lips. “No,” You kicked a rock that was on the floor, fear and anxiety crackling through your small body. “I’m scared.” You admitted. Your vision was blotted with tears, your heart breaking at the thought of being separated from your dad for such a long time. “I’m gonna be so far away from you.” You sniffled, hot tears streaming down your cheeks. “Oh, come here.” A frown is so deeply etched on Stan’s face he worries that after this, he’d have a permanent frown on his face. Encasing you in a hug, he slowly ran his hand down your hair. “You’re gonna be okay, pumpkin.” He pressed a kiss on your temple. “You’re a Pines for Christ's sake, and we survive anything, don’t we?” You pull away from the hug, wiping off your tears with your sleeve. “Remember that I’ll always be there for you, okay? No matter the distance.” His hand cusps your cheek and on instinct, you lean your hand into his palm. “Mhm,” You sniffle, your hands wrapping around his finger. “And hey, if you don’t like it there, you can fake being sick and I’ll pick you up, alright pumpkin?” The idea of faking an illness just so you could be back in the comforts of your home made the anxiety of going to school die down a bit. You had an escape plan! “When I get back from school can we rob people of their money?” A surprised laugh bellowed out of Stan. “Sure, pumpkin. You can make me a sea monkey and make them believe we actually caught it, how’s that sound?” You nodded your head with a smile. And with that, he drove you to school. When he reached the school, saying goodbye to you tugged at his heartstrings. He couldn’t bear to see you go. With a tearful hug and a kiss on the head, you were off. Stan cried on the way home. The whole day, he was so distressed he didn't even bother to open the shack. When he picked you up from school, he asked you about your day. "I don't like school."

ꨄ︎ Stan could never say no to you, it was practically impossible to muster out the word. So when you asked to stay home from school because you weren’t feeling well, he said yes with no hesitation. You want this doll you saw at the mall, of course! Everything you wanted, you’d get. And did it hurt Stan’s pocket from time to time, but after getting over the initial shock of how much he spent on you, your reaction to getting what you wanted was enough for Stan to look past that. 

ꨄ︎ Summerween was creeping and soon the houses were decorated with skeletons and zombies, melon lanterns littered the town at night and kids were rushing to the nearest costume store to snag a costume of their own. Originally, Stan spent his Summerween scaring children off one by one with a multitude of tricks up his sleeve. But ever since you implemented yourself in his life, he hasn’t done that tradition in over 8 years. Instead, he’d dress up with you. You wanted to be Boo from Monsters Inc? Then he’d be Sully to match with you. Beauty from Beauty and the Beast? Then he’ll be Beast. Photos of each costume were plastered on the billboard in his room. His favorite costume was when you were a baby, he dressed you up as Rapunzel and he was the tower. The compliments he received from that costume were insane. It was enough to fuel him into entering a costume competition and shockingly enough, he won! 

ꨄ︎ Snowball fights in the winter is an activity you and Stan can never pass up on. You could be innocently building a tiny little snowman when you feel a snowball hit your back and slide down your jacket. Looking behind you, you could see Stan whistling to himself as he pretended to occupy himself with the snow. When he clumped the snow together, he shot a glance over your way. What he wasn’t expecting was to see you gone from your spot. His stomach drops, were you snatched by some rando in the woods when he wasn’t looking? Dropping his snowball he called out your name. Each time you didn’t respond, his heart sank more and more. “Pumpkin? Answer me plea—“ A snowball pelted right into his face. Sputtering out in disbelief, he wiped his hand down his face. A burst of laughter came from you and you happily clapped your hands together. “Did I get you?” Stan rolls his eyes playfully and before you knew it, a snowball was being shot towards you. You tried running away but you were too slow. The snowball hit you straight on the back causing you to fall face first on snow. Popping your head up, you laugh loudly. “Dad, that’s so unfair.” He scooped you up, wiping the snow off your face with his mitten. “Get used to it, I play unfair, pumpkin.” 

ꨄ︎ When Soos came along, it was a playdate every day at the Mystery Shack. He was just ten and you were eight, not too far apart in age, you and him got along fairly well. When Stan would be wasting his time away on the TV, he’d get a gut feeling something was amiss. All the time. And whenever he’d go looking for you and Soos, he would either find you and Soos taking apart some part of the house or making a mess of things. However, there would be times when he benefited from the mess. It was crazy enough that he was able to convince people that a monster had come into his house and wrecked the entire place. That gained him a few hundred bucks while it lasted.

ꨄ︎ Soon enough, you were old enough to work alongside Stan and help him with tourists. Back then, you used to create the attraction by gluing taxidermy animals together. Now, you do both! You lead people around, show them a few tourist attractions, scam them with their money, and get away with it. On the side, you work together with Soos to create new abominations that keep more people coming into the shack. After a while, Wendy tagged along and the three of you ruled the shack, kinda. On slow days, you and Wendy chilled on the roof, drinking pit colas and sharing stories with each other. Sometimes Soos would join, but most of the time he’d be too busy fixing something that broke. “Dude,” Wendy began, closing the magazine she was reading and setting it down on the table. “I sometimes like, completely forget that you're Stan’s daughter. How’s that for you?” She asked, resting her chin on her palms. “Eh,” You swiped the mop you had in hand back and forth. “It’s not so bad.” You said with a shrug. “It’s actually pretty fun.” Leaning on the mop, a memory from early childhood sparked in your memory. “You know, back when I was like, what? one through three? Dad had me as a tourist attraction.” You say with a fond smile. “What! No way.” Wendy chuckled out. “What did he disguise you as?” You thought for a moment, tapping a finger on your chin. “I think a lamb?” Another laugh leaves Wendy. “No way, that’s actually so cute.” 

ꨄ︎ “Dad, do you ever wonder how different life would be if Mom never came over here to give me to you?” Stan, without hesitation, replies, “Yeah. Sometimes I do.” Scratching his back, he locked the front door of the shack. You and Stan were currently closing up the shack for the night. “Like, what do you think about?” You ask, closing the blinds. “How calmer my life would be.” You scoff, shoving him. “Be serious, Dad!” You huffed out, walking over to the kitchen with him following. “You want me to be honest?” He plops himself on the couch that has his buttcheeks indented in them. “Yeah, duh. That’s why I’m asking.” You open the fridge and grab a pit cola. “Honestly, you were a gift in disguise.” He says. “Without you, I don’t know where I’d be.” He scratches his chin, clearing his throat awkwardly. “I’d most likely be drinking myself to sleep.” You frowned. “You don’t mean that, do you?” Stan looks off to the side, he’s never admitted that to you before, or to anyone. “That’s what I used to do before I met you, sweet pea.” Walking over to Stan, you wrap your arms around him. “Well, I’m glad you opened the door that day.” You hold him closer. “Me too, Pumpkin, me too.”

i absolutely love writing dad fics for stan and ford ohmg

[ginnsbaker]

fic: if i bleed (you'll be the last to know) (11/?)

Part Summary: You listen, and her reasons make sense, but they don't ease the tightness gripping your heart. Knowing how well Leigh understands the control she holds over you leaves you feeling exposed, almost humiliated. It feels manipulative, whether she intended it or not.

Pairing: Leigh Shaw x Fem!Reader | Word count for this part: 6.300+ | Warnings: Angst | Author's note: Buckle up you guys.

Masterlist | Part I Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII | Part IX | Part X

-

You've never looked at Leigh this way before. 

Not even when she confronted you months ago, a formidable presence with a devastating revelation that shattered what you thought was a straightforward affair with a single man. Not even when she accused you of lying, or when she consistently made things difficult for you. 

Now, you look at her as if she's an entirely different person. And from the way you fall back, it's obvious you don't particularly like what you see. Leigh hadn't realized just how painful it could be to be looked at in such a way. With each of your steps, panic swells inside her. Though you're only a few feet away, it feels as if you've drifted oceans apart. She can't reach you, and the growing distance makes her fear she never will.

“What did you say?” you repeat slowly, each syllable dropping like a stone—deliberate and heavy.

Your eyes, hard and cold, fix on her. It’s an unsettling sight; she'd almost prefer your anger. Anger, at least, is a familiar adversary, a clear-cut emotion she has long helmed and appeased within herself. She understands anger, knows how to quell it, how to unravel it into something resembling forgiveness or at least a truce. But this wounded belief—she doesn’t know what to do with it. It doesn’t want loud arguments or quick fixes. Instead, it seems to demand something she finds far harder to give: an explanation of motives she's not sure she fully understands herself.

“Your eyes are... enthralling?” Leigh stammers out, her voice quivering slightly as she attempts some self-preservation. She regrets the words as soon as they slip out, sounding hollow and clumsy to her own ears.

You don't laugh, or even react much at all, except to say, “You know that's not what I'm talking about.”

Leigh’s heart sinks a bit more. She winces, shaking her head, realizing the frivolous comment has fallen flat, doing nothing to undo the damage. In the end, she can’t bring herself to say what she knows you want to hear.

“After all this time, how…? How do you know about that nickname?” you ask, maintaining a façade of indifference though you can feel the cracks forming. 

“I work for the website,” Leigh says, her eyes dropping to the floor when she hears you take in a sharp breath. “I used to run the advice column there. But when Matt died, I couldn't handle it anymore and I left.” She stops for a moment, her gaze flickering back to you, searching for a reaction, but you remain silent, your expression unreadable. 

“They brought me back recently, just as a contributor. I wasn't sure how to tell you. It's part of how I'm trying to move on, getting back into writing, even though it feels different now,” she adds somberly.

“So, did you just read my entries and figure out it was me from what I wrote?” you ask, your voice low and uncertain.

Leigh swallows dryly, steeling herself for what she has to say next. “Not only did I read your entries,” she admits slowly, her voice a whisper of trepidation, “but I was the one replying to them.”

After her confession, Leigh struggles to meet your eyes. Her ears are filled with the loud rush of her heartbeat, thumping wildly as the seconds tick by without a word from you. Time seems suspended, and when you don't speak, move, or give any indication of your thoughts, dread begins to creep into the edges of her mind.

“I was going to tell you,” Leigh murmurs, the words barely escaping her lips. Your arms cross over your chest, sealing yourself off even more. She feels you slipping further away, when just moments earlier, you had been kissing the life out of her, as if trying to breathe her in. 

This can’t be happening, Leigh thinks. It just can’t.

“When?” you scoff. “When you’re… what? Done with your revenge?”

Leigh’s brow furrows at the accusation. “Revenge?”

“Isn’t that what this is about?” you ask, retreating until your back meets the wall, leaning heavily against it. Leigh notices the fatigue etched into your features, as if the realization that she knew about your submissions and was the one responding to them is more than you can bear.

“I don’t—”

“Payback for what went on between me and Matt?” 

“Y/N,” Leigh utters your name hard, like a deity in her prayers. “You’re misunderstanding this—”

“Am I?” you challenge, your voice rising.  You don't care if the neighbors hear; you’ve never met any of them anyway. “I remember a ‘Gigi Herrel’ advising me to move on, to meet other people, to pursue someone else—”

Your words become stuck in your throat as you realize that ‘Gigi Herrel’ is an anagram for ‘Leigh Greer.’ How could you have missed it? How could you have been so blind?

Leigh aches to reach out to you, to touch you and reassure you that she never meant any harm, that her intentions were never what you're accusing her of. But her hands remain at her sides, afraid you might recoil or push her away. She worries that one wrong move could drive you away for good.

“I never meant to hurt you. Please, Y/N,” she begs, her voice trembling with an urgency neither of you thought she was capable of. “I was trying to protect you—from myself. I’m a mess, Y/N. I’ve been a mess since Matt…” Leigh trails off, unable to finish the sentence.

“You thought toying with my feelings was protection?”

“I wasn’t!” Leigh objects forcefully.

You slump to the ground, your strength giving out as a sharp, nail-like pain spreads through your head. You bury your face in your hands, fingers pressing into your temples, while Leigh sits across from you, her hands nervously twisting together.

Quietly, you voice your frustrations. “If it wasn't a game, then why do I feel like I've been losing all this time? Things would be fine between us, and then suddenly, you'd ignore me. My texts went unanswered, my messages unseen for days. It felt like you weren't even treating me right as a friend. I'd drive myself crazy wondering if I said something wrong or did something wrong… It feels like I'm always walking on eggshells. So, if it wasn't a game, tell me you didn't do those things on purpose. Because if not, then you were awful to me without even trying. You know that, right?”

Leigh's eyes brim with remorse. She quickly wipes at her eyes before a tear can fall, trying to maintain her composure in front of you.. “I would never play games with you,” she implores. “I've been in pieces for so long that I've forgotten what it means to be whole. When I found out about your feelings, I didn’t understand them. I couldn't see how it could happen when I wasn't my best self.

“I pushed you away because I was scared of letting you see the real me—the broken, messy parts. I thought that if you got too close, saw too much, you'd realize there wasn't much to hold onto. That eventually, you'd see me the way I see myself and end up disappointed.” Her voice trembles, betraying the strength she tries to project.

You listen, and her reasons make sense, but they don't ease the tightness gripping your heart. Knowing how well Leigh understands the control she holds over you leaves you feeling exposed, almost humiliated. It feels manipulative, whether she intended it or not.

“You knew how I felt about you, Leigh,” you say, your lips curving into a wistful smile. “I understand that you're hurting and that being scared is part of it, but it doesn't justify leaving me hanging, wondering where I stand with you, feeling like I'm just... waiting for you to decide I'm worth your time.”

Leigh nods slowly. “I realize that now, and I'm so sorry. It wasn't fair to you. I was trying to manage my own issues, but I ended up projecting them onto you.”

You look into her eyes, searching for a sign that the change you need from her is possible. “Being broken isn't a reason to break others,” you say.

Leigh flinches slightly, your words hitting home. “You’re absolutely right,” she agrees, her eyes unblinking. You can tell that if you were to list her faults, she would agree and confess to them all just to resolve things right here and now. But that's not what you want, nor what you need from her.

“Y/N,” Leigh's voice almost breaks as she says your name. “Will you forgive me?”

Yes, you think instinctively. Forgiving Leigh feels almost second nature. But actually saying it out loud right now would set a course you're not sure you're ready to follow. Trust has been strained and rebuilding it isn't as simple as uttering a single word of forgiveness.

Leigh looks at you expectantly, anxiety lining her features. “Y/N?” she repeats softly.

You understand what she's silently asking: if there's a chance to reset everything. But you're not ready to commit to an answer. Offering her any assurance now might only lead to false hopes, especially if you later decide a real relationship isn't possible. Part of you wants to give in, to return to her embrace and pick up where you left off. But another part, perhaps the more rational side, holds you back.

“Leigh, I... can we just... I need some time to think,” you finally say. Disappointment flashes across her face, almost imperceptible but unmistakably there. As Leigh stands, you expect her to quietly leave, respecting your need for space. Instead, she spins around to face you with renewed determination.

“I'm not a perfect person, okay?” she whispers, but you can still sense the rough edges around her voice. This is a side of Leigh you're all too familiar with, having felt the sting of her impatience and temper more times than you'd like. But instead of rising to the challenge, you simply feel drained—too exhausted to argue tonight.

“You don't have to be perfect, Leigh,” you say, more tired than angry. Then, almost impulsively, you ask, “Does Danny know you’re here?”

Leigh's composure slips for just a moment at the mention of his name. Guilt or surprise crosses her face like a shadow, only to vanish as quickly as it appeared. Her jaw tightens, and you sense her displeasure at the topic. “No, he doesn't know I'm here,” she says curtly.

Well, at least she’s being honest. But what were you expecting—that her presence here meant she had chosen you?

“You need some time to think too,” you say, pushing yourself up and moving toward the door. Leigh's expression stiffens as her eyes follow your movements. You open the door, gesturing for her to leave. She approaches, hesitating just short of it, her gaze searching for the right words or maybe just some reassurance, but finding neither.

“I'm sorry,” she murmurs, her defiance fading. “This isn't how I imagined tonight would go. I don't regret what happened, really, but I hate that it ended up hurting you. That's not why I came here.”

“I know,” you reply, unsure of what else to say. 

Leigh starts to leave, then hesitates again just before crossing the threshold. “Can I contact you?”

You let out a sigh. "Good night, Leigh."

She swallows hard and nods slowly. “Bye,” she whispers.

You gently close the door after her and lean against it for a moment. Leigh has turned your world upside down more times than you can count, and you two haven't even truly begun.

-

“Do you ever just think about disappearing?”

Jules lifts her head to look at her sister. They lie side by side at the foot of Leigh's bed, with empty glasses of milk on the floor next to them and an open pack of Oreos, an invitation for the ants.

The night before, after the whole debacle with you finding out she’s been answering your advice submissions, Leigh had come home with her lips still tingling and her stomach in knots. She had almost run to her room in a huff, drawing puzzled looks from Jules and Amy, before slamming her bedroom door shut. They knew better than to ask what was wrong and wisely kept their distance. That was, until Leigh didn't come out of her room the entire morning until afternoon, except for a quick trip to the kitchen for some food, and even then, she was wearing the same clothes as the day before. A single whiff from a few feet away also made it clear she hadn't showered either. 

Worried, Jules decided to intervene with a little gesture that she hoped might coax her sister out of her shell. She grabbed a packet of Oreos from the pantry and poured a glass of milk—Leigh’s comfort snack since childhood—and tapped softly on her sister's door. Leigh didn’t answer. She tried the knob, found it unlocked, and pushed the door open. The sight of Leigh, all disheveled and pale with those heavy bags under her eyes, took Jules right back to those first several days after they learned Matt had been found dead at the bottom of a cliff.

Jules lifts her head to look at her sister. “Leigh, you're scaring me. You know that, right?”

Leigh quickly shakes her head, realizing how her words sounded. “No, no, I don’t mean like that. Not disappearing in the way Matt did.” She sighs, throwing an arm over her eyes. “I just mean... rebooting, you know? Wishing we could rewind to before everything got so complicated.”

Relieved by the clarification, Jules settles back down beside her. They both gaze up at the ceiling, lost in thought.

“I wish I never tasted alcohol when I was fifteen,” Jules says suddenly. 

Leigh frowns. “That bad, huh?”

Jules smiles wryly and nods. “Yeah. Some choices just stick with you, you know? Can’t undo them. Just have to live with what comes after.”

Leigh's thoughts drift as she listens to Jules, a rueful smile crossing her lips. “You know, I've got my own list of should've, would've, could've. I always thought I'd finish college, maybe become an editor or write something of my own one day.”

Jules tries to offer a silver lining. “But you don’t need a degree to be a writer, Leigh.”

“Yeah, I know,” Leigh mumbles, tracing a pattern on the bedspread absentmindedly. “It's just... having that formal education might have made things easier. Like being pushed by mentors... or the doors it would've opened, the people I would've met. But more than that, I regret not sticking it out. I quit too easily.”

Then, turning on her side with her back to Jules, she continues, “But in the end, it all circles back to Matt somehow. This… this inability to follow through really got to me after he was gone. We had so many plans, so many dreams together. And now none of them will ever happen.”

“You still really love him, don't you?”

Leigh’s answer is slow to come. “Yes,” Leigh whispers, her reply muffled slightly by the pillow. After a moment, she adds, “And no.”

Before Jules can comment on it, she continues, “It’s like… I love who we were, who he was to me. And I love all the memories, every plan we made, every silly promise. But,” she stops, picking her words carefully, “but there’s also this part of me that’s learning to live without that, to not need it so much. It feels like moving on, and that part doesn’t love the pain, doesn’t want to keep holding on if it just hurts.”

Jules reaches out, resting her hand on Leigh’s shoulder, offering a silent show of support. “And, um, does that tie into why you were so upset last night?”

Leigh's laugh is faint and strained. “Yes,” she says softly, “and no.” Then she rolls over to face Jules, burying the lower half of her face in the blankets.

“How so?”

“It’s complicated, Jules. I don’t even know where to start.”

“Alright,” Jules huffs. “I’ll guide you then. Does it have something to do with what I said about Y/N seeing Sara?”

Leigh doesn't answer. Instead, she sits up, letting the blanket fall around her lap as the steady breeze from the air conditioning causes her skin to prickle with goosebumps. 

Jules sits up as well. “It's fine to be upset over her. You can grieve for others too, not just Matt. You can’t keep using him as the reason for all your pain. If you want to handle this, you’ve got to figure out what you're really up against.”

“Since when did you start playing therapist?”

Jules smirks. “Rehab over the past five years teaches you some things.”

Leigh forces a smile. She knows Jules jokes to cope, using humor to deal with everything she’s been through. Taking a breath, Leigh says, “I saw her last night.”

“I figured,” Jules says with a knowing look. “You dashed out of the house without even putting on a bra.”

Leigh covers her face, cringing. “You noticed that?”

Jules chuckles. “Well, it's not like any of us, including Mom, bothers wearing one around the house,” she jokes, and they both laugh. “So, did you actually forget to put one on, or…?”

Leigh rolls her eyes and gives Jules a light elbow to the side. “I forgot, okay?”

Jules grins, teasing, “Well, not like it got you any action considering how annoyed you looked when you got back last night.”

Leigh goes quiet, her eyes flitting around the room. “Well, actually…”

Jules leans in, eyes wide. “Oh my god, something happened?”

Leigh bites her lower lip. “We…kissed.”

Jules's brow creases together. “And it was that bad? You looked miserable and locked yourself up all day. Was it really just because of a bad kiss?”

“It wasn’t,” Leigh corrects her quickly. “It was good. Like, really good.” She must look a bit dreamy thinking back on it because Jules grabs a pillow and playfully smacks her in the face.

“Alright, be serious,” Jules says, fighting to keep a straight face. “What really happened?”

Leigh sniffs, clearly reluctant to revisit the details but she begins recounting it for Jules. She explains how she received a submission for the advice column she writes for, from someone using the pseudonym ‘EspressoEyes.’ It arrived on her birthday and was intriguing enough that she responded immediately. She had no idea it was you, but as the details matched too perfectly with your birthday surprise, she started to connect the dots. Then came another question, so on point that she couldn't chalk it up to coincidence anymore. After the kiss you shared last night, she let slip that you truly have espresso eyes. 

“...and that's when everything fell apart,” Leigh finishes, flopping back onto the mattress with a bounce, face down, her hair fanning out around her.

Leigh waits for Jules to react, to say anything. But her sister doesn’t speak or even make a sound for a long time, and just as she’s about to sneak a peek at her sister, curious and a bit anxious, Jules says, “Honestly, if I were Y/N, I’d be very much horrified too.”

Leigh gives her a look that’s both curious and wary. “Yeah?”

“Telling someone you have feelings for them is scary,” Jules explains. “Imagine finding out that the feelings you’ve been hiding came out in such a vulnerable, almost embarrassing way.”

“I guess you’re right,” Leigh concedes.

“But,” Jules continues, “the real problem is that you didn't address it right after you figured it out. You let her pine for you before pulling her in.”

Leigh nods and grabs an Oreo from the floor, popping the whole thing into her mouth. “And I still don't know why I confronted Y/N about Sara right away. By the way, you're an asshole for that, Jules. Y/N isn't dating Sara.”

Jules just grins, completely unabashed. “I know. But it was fun seeing you all riled up.”

Leigh sighs, the cookie in her mouth losing its sweetness. “I feel so stupid for needing that push. I didn't even realize what was happening. It felt like being hit by a truck when I realized I wanted her. And I didn't trust it, you know? Especially since I haven't even been into women since my ex in college.”

Jules studies her sister thoughtfully. “So, what now that you've messed up?”

Leigh looks away, her face shrouded with uncertainty. She wishes she had a definite answer, but she knows only time will tell. “She said she needs some time to think, and I'll give her as much as she needs.”

“And in the meantime,” Jules asks, her eyes brightening with a bit too much enthusiasm, “are you going to break up with Danny?”

“Right,” Leigh mutters weakly, “I almost forgot about Danny.”

-

You carefully place your rental bike against the railing on the front porch, careful not to scratch the paint. After spending a year in sunny Los Angeles, the crisp autumn air of Camden, Maine, nips at your cheeks, reminding you just how unaccustomed you've become to the cold. You pull your bomber jacket tighter around your body, a futile shield against the chill, and find yourself yearning for the relentless sun that’s now hiding above the clouds of your hometown.

The aroma of blueberry pie wafts from the slightly ajar front door of the Ranch style home where you spent most of your childhood, drawing you irresistibly towards the warmth inside. From where you stand, you can see the boats bobbing in the harbor, their masts swaying gently in the breeze. You can nearly taste the ocean’s saltiness, brought back vividly through memories of sailing with your father.

“Mom?” you call out as you step inside after removing your shoes. “I’m home!”

Your mom appears from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a flour-dusted apron. She looks up, her eyes lighting up when she sees you, and she quickly closes the distance to wrap you in a tight hug. Over the years, she’s grown shorter, now standing three inches below you. As she hugs you, you rest your cheek on her salt-and-pepper hair, which smells sweetly of sugar and blueberries.

“Welcome home, honey,” she says, her voice muffled against your jacket. “I wasn't expecting you until dinner.”

“I managed to catch an earlier flight,” you say, squeezing her a little tighter. “Where's Morris?” you ask, referring to her partner and the man who's been sort of a stepdad to you, although your mom and he never got married. They've been sharing this home for the last ten years.

“He's out back,” she replies, pointing towards the yard through the kitchen window. “He's been trying to get the garden ready for winter before the frost sets in.”

You hum in response, dropping your duffel onto the couch nearby.

“Are you hungry?” your mom asks, turning towards the fridge.

“Am I too early for the pie?” you ask, your stomach rumbling at the thought.

Your mom turns around with a wide, toothy grin. “You made it just in time.”

-

Your bedroom is just as you left it last year, preserved in time. Your mom has kept the dust at bay, and the sheets feel freshly laundered, as if you'd only left them hours ago. Instinctively, you gravitate towards the shelves lined with various framed photos of your family. Smiling faces of your brother and your father gaze back at you from the pictures, and a warm, nostalgic smile spreads across your face. You feel a pang of yearning for them—it's been too long.

With a sigh, you collapse onto the bed and pull out your phone. As promised, Leigh hasn’t made any attempts to reach out to you. Without thinking, you browse through her social media accounts, though there's nothing new since you discovered she knew about your feelings all along. Nonetheless, you scroll through her old photos, the ones from before she was widowed, where her smiles seem effortless and full of confidence, as if happiness was her default.

You miss her; that much you can't deny. But you're still hurt, not just because she didn't come clean about her discovery, but also because of the way she often treated you—the hot and cold attitude, the confusion, the lack of kindness and consideration. Time and again, you've given her the benefit of the doubt, especially considering she's grieving a loved one with a secret that further complicated his passing. You understand loss, having faced it yourself, but you've never allowed your grief to justify lashing out at others or toying with someone's emotions. It makes you wonder how you even fell for her in the first place. 

Before you know it, your eyelids grow heavy and you nod off, your phone slipping onto the comforter. You're not sure how long you've been out when a soft knock on your door jolts you awake.

“Come in,” you mumble, still half in a daze as you rub your eyes.

The door creaks open and your mom pops her head in. “Dinner's almost ready,” she says with a warm smile. “Want to come down and help me set the table?”

You nod. “Can you give me five minutes? I promise I'll help.”

Without waiting for a response, she walks over to sit beside you on the bed, gently stroking your hair as if you were still a child. “What’s wrong?” she asks softly. Your mother has always been your confidante, able to read you like an open book. You can't hide anything from her; she'll know.

“I keep falling for the wrong person,” you say, offering a bittersweet smile.

“Oh, honey,” she murmurs, kissing your forehead. “Love is more complicated than the right or wrong person. We're all a combination of good and bad; it's just a matter of deciding whether it's worth it in the end.”

You reflect on your past relationships, few though they are, and realize you're better off without them. They were either taking what they could get or using you as a fallback for their own misery.

“Do you feel like this person could be worth it?” she asks.

“I honestly don’t know,” you say. “It’s all so uncertain.”

“And that's fine,” she says. “Love isn't a sprint. Give yourself the space to figure it out.”

You're finding it hard to agree with her. If only the answers could be handed to you, saving you from future heartbreak. Why do some lessons have to be learned the hard way? Why don't people come with warnings and expectations?

Noticing how unconvinced you seem, your mom offers an idea.

“Tell you what, let's ask Morris to set the table for us. How about you and I go see your brother and father before dinner?”

-

You and your mom walk side by side through the cemetery, hands clasped together. You haven’t visited your father and brother’s graves in over a year, and you've been fighting back tears since leaving the house.

Your mom unfurls a thick blanket over the damp grass, spreading it out with care before you both settle onto it. She surprises you by pulling out a bottle of white wine from her bag. You lift an eyebrow, and she laughs, saying, “In my defense, I used to drink stronger liquor back in the day.”

You chuckle, picking up an empty glass and holding it out. “Pour me one.”

She fills your glass before pouring her own, and the two of you sit there, sipping wine quietly. 

A few minutes later, she turns to you and says, “So, tell me about her.”

You nearly choke on your drink, surprised she knows it’s a woman. “How did you know?”

She smiles impishly. “You’ve always had poorer judgment when it comes to girls, so I figured this is what’s been on your mind.”

You can’t help but be impressed by how well she reads you. “Her name is Leigh. She's the wife of someone I used to see,” you say.

Your mom’s smile vanishes, replaced by shock. “Wait, you're saying you had an affair and now you're seeing his wife on the side?”

You burst into laughter at her horrified expression. “No, it's not like that.” Taking a deep breath, you tell her the whole story: how Matt died and how his wife, Leigh, found you after discovering Matt had cheated on her.

As your mom listens, her shock softens into contemplation. She tops up your wine and says thoughtfully, “Well, that’s complicated.”

“Yeah, it is.”

You open up to your mom about Leigh, sharing both the beautiful and terrible moments without holding back. As you recount the story, it's like rereading a passage in a book and analyzing it with new eyes. When you finish, your mother sets down her drink and says, “She's mean to you.”

You nod, draining the last of your wine.

“Loss does things to people,” she says softly. “You and I both know that better than anyone.”

“We do,” you say quietly.

Your mom regards you for a moment, then asks, “What do you see in Leigh? Why do you like her?”

You think about it, grappling with how to express the spectrum of emotions Leigh evokes in you. 

“She’s pretty, definitely, and there’s a sharpness to her that’s... captivating. She’s unapologetically herself, and it’s often really funny. But… does that sound shallow? I can’t help but feel a bit foolish listing these superficial things—”

Your mom gently places her hand on yours, stopping your words. “You don’t need a poetic reason to love someone,” she says with a small smile. “Sometimes you just do. But mostly, we feel connected to people because we recognize some part of our soul in them. Recognition is why people are together, Y/N. Can you really love a stranger?”

Perhaps it’s true. Leigh isn’t really a stranger to you. Aside from concealing her knowledge of your feelings, she never pretended to be someone she wasn't. She was honest, showing you both her strengths and flaws. And you didn’t have to like all of it. But you kept coming back, eager to uncover more of her layers.

She continues, “By the way, you must be wondering why I brought you here.”

You glance around at the headstones of your father and brother, then back at her. “Yeah, I was.”

She looks toward the gravestones, her eyes misty. “To remind you that we don’t have all the time in the world. We have to make our time count, even if it means taking risks or facing things we're afraid of. Love isn't easy, but it’s worth finding the right person and making it work.”

“What if it doesn't work out, though?” you ask.

She smiles knowingly. “If it doesn’t, at least you’ll know you gave it a chance. You won't be left wondering what could have been. And that matters.” 

She gives your hand a reassuring squeeze, and you return it, feeling a bit more grounded. She waits for her words to settle in you, before asking, “You’ve already made your choice, haven’t you?”

You nod slowly, a growing sense of certainty welling up inside. “I think I have.”

“Well, then. Let’s finish our bottle and head back.”

-

“You waited until after Thanksgiving dinner to break up with me?” Danny's voice cracks as he speaks, his figure looming in the doorway of his apartment, blocking Leigh's exit. His eyes dart between anger and desperation, his eyebrows furrowed and his mouth set in a stern line. Yet, his hands are open, reaching toward her—pleading.

They had just returned from Thanksgiving dinner at the Shaws'. Leigh wanted to create one last pleasant memory with Danny, something kind to look back on. Aware of his strained relationship with his mom, she didn't want to leave him alone during the holidays by breaking up earlier. Now she accompanied him back to his apartment, planning to end things there and collect her belongings afterward.

Leigh turns to face him, her expression somber. “I just... I thought it was the right time to talk, after everything settled down.”

“After everything settled down?” Danny repeats incredulously. “You mean after we spent the whole day with your family, pretending everything was fine?”

Leigh sighs, knowing how it looks but needing him to understand. “I know how it seems, but I couldn't do it before dinner. It didn’t feel right to ruin the holiday for everyone.”

Danny steps back from the doorway, giving her space to enter. “So, you decided to ruin my night instead?”

Leigh walks inside, closing the door behind her. “I'm really sorry, Danny. I’ve felt for a while that this isn’t working, and I can't keep stringing you along.”

Danny runs a hand through his hair and starts pacing. “Is this about Matt?”

Leigh stills for a moment, considering her answer. It would be easy to say yes, to blame everything on that one pervasive loss. Matt has often been her scapegoat, but Leigh is tired of deceiving herself and others. For quite some time now, it hasn't been Matt’s absence that's been upending her world. Which is why she resolves to tell him the truth, aware that he would find out sooner or later.

Leigh sucks in a deep breath and looks Danny in the eye. “No, it's not about Matt. It's because of Y/N.”

Danny stops in his aimless tracks, his eyes narrowing. “Y/N?”

Leigh feels her heart race, knowing she can’t back down now. “Two weeks ago… we kissed.”

He blinks, stunned. “You kissed Y/N?” His voice is flat, almost disbelieving.

“It wasn’t planned, but... it happened. And it felt right, in a way I can’t ignore,” Leigh says.

Danny crosses his arms, scoffing. “I didn't know you were into women,” he says with a sneer, as if trying to insult her.

Leigh grits her teeth. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

“Clearly,” he replies bitterly. “So how many times? How long have you been cheating on me?”

Leigh shakes her head, holding her ground. “I didn’t purposely cheat on you, Danny. I didn’t even realize I had strong feelings for her until that night. It just happened.”

Danny's face contorts with rage, and he yells, “Stop lying to me, Leigh! You fucking checked out of this relationship a while ago, and now it makes sense. You were screwing someone else on the side.”

Leigh protests, “We’ve never slept—” but her words are cut off as Danny suddenly swings his fist into the wall beside him. The sound of splintering wood and cracking bones reverberates through the apartment, and Leigh stands frozen, shocked beyond belief at what she's witnessing.

Danny looks down at his bloodied knuckles, bewilderment creeping over his features as he pulls back from the wall. He catches his breath and stares at Leigh, their eyes meeting in horrified silence.

“Sorry… I’m so sorry,” Danny mumbles, cradling his injured hand.

Leigh quickly grabs his keys from the dusty fishbowl on the shelf. He watches her, his gaze confused and desperate. “What are you doing?”

She meets his eyes, surprised herself at how calm and collected she feels. “I’m taking you to the hospital. You need to get that hand looked at,” she replies.

He doesn’t protest, only nods numbly and follows her outside.

At the hospital, Danny sits in a stiff plastic chair, his freshly bandaged hand resting on his lap. Leigh is next to him, her eyes fixed on the speckled tile floor, avoiding his gaze.

After several minutes, Danny breaks the silence. “I didn’t know what happened back there,” he starts, his voice low and unsteady. “I didn’t want to be angry, but it just… it had to go somewhere. I’ve never hurt anyone, if that’s what you’re thinking,” he tries to explain. 

Leigh turns to look at him, her expression blank. “You punched a wall, Danny. It doesn’t matter if you’ve never hit anyone; you’ve got some serious anger management issues.”

Danny stays quiet for a moment, staring at his bandaged hand as if he’s still trying to comprehend what he did. He finally looks up, his expression twisted in frustration. “I’ve been angry for a long time, Leigh. Long before Matt was gone. I can’t even remember a time when I wasn’t.”

“I understand that,” Leigh says, shifting in her seat. “Even with therapy, the anger and resentment don’t really disappear completely. They linger like shadows.” She exhales, glancing down at her lap. Before she can stop it, a small smile plays on her lips as she thinks of you. “But lately, when Y/N is around, I forget about it. So know that I didn’t make this decision lightly.”

Danny studies her for a moment before asking, “Did you ever love me? Did I ever stand a chance?”

There's no easy way to say this without hurting him, but she doesn’t want to leave him with false hope. “I tried, Danny. I wanted to,” she whispers.

Danny turns away, his body twisting from her. Leigh wants to feel worse than she does, but instead, she just wants this to be over. She hopes the billing clerk will soon call their name so they can pay and head home. It's been an unbearably long day.

As she waits, her thoughts drift to you. She wants to call you after this, to tell you that she wants to try with you, that it could be real. She wants to explain that she ended things with Danny, that she did it to be free to explore the possibility of being with you, without any reservations.

After a while, Danny lets out a slow sigh, then looks at Leigh with a despondent look. “If your mind’s made up, I should probably put everything out in the open too.”

Leigh looks at him expectantly, a little curious.

“I’ve been keeping something from you. I didn’t think it would matter, but now… well, I can’t hide it anymore.”

“Just say it, Danny,” Leigh says, crossing her arms.

Then Danny proceeds to tell her the one last secret he thought he'd carry to his grave.

[junekissed]

sounds of the season

day four of junkissed’s svt season’s greetings event

member — radio host!junhui x reader genre — fluff, college au word count — 1.7k synopsis — when your university’s radio show hosts a matchmaking event to raise money, you figure, what have you got to lose? the question you should be asking is, what have you got to gain? warnings — jun is so awkward but we love him, this is pretty dialogue-heavy sorry notes — lowercase intended. also i know nothing about how radio works so if i’m wrong just ignore it lol

this is part of @svthub's snowventeen winter collab! be sure to check out the collab masterlist here and support our talented writers! this collab contains both sfw and nsfw fics; minors dni with nsfw fics.

read part 2 here

one reblog = one holiday song on the radio

“that’s the end of today’s program, everyone, thanks for tuning in. remember to sign up for our ‘matchmaking for charity’ event while you still can! for every successful match, we’re donating $20 to toys for tots, so be sure to get your application in so we can find you a special someone this december. link is on our instagram, and our website, sdu.caratsradio.org, go check it out.”

a different voice follows. “we’ve been sounds of the season on 111.7 fm, hosted by our very own communications undergrads. have a great weekend, sdu students! we’ll see you back here monday at six for more holiday tunes.”

jazz study music from the next hour’s program begins to play as you sigh, closing the tab on your computer open to the school’s website.

for the last few weeks you’ve been listening to shining diamond university’s student radio station; more specifically, you’ve been listening to the duo that hosts the holiday music hour every monday and friday at 6pm. the festive music puts you in a better mood, but what you’re really there for is the hosts’ voices. their tone is so calming, most days you like to turn on the station in the background while you do your homework. something about the way they speak helps you focus. whoever they are, you could listen to them talk for hours.

there’s probably pictures of the hosts somewhere on the website, but you haven’t gone looking for them. you’re a little afraid that realizing that they’re not just pretty voices on your laptop, and knowing that there’s real-life faces connected to them would ruin the experience. so for now, you’re content to just imagine their voices and let your brain fill in the blanks.

you’ve been tossing around the idea of signing up for their event back and forth in your mind for a while now. being matched with a stranger at school just sounds nerve wracking, but at this point, you haven’t got much to lose. the worst that could come out of it is another bad date. plus, it’s for charity. you don’t know exactly what the parameters of the event are, but even if it doesn’t work out with whoever you’re matched with, you figure you could always just act like it did so the charity still gets the money.

what the heck, you figure. maybe it’ll be fun.

a week after signing up you get an email with info about your match and instructions on when and where to meet him. on saturday at noon he’ll be at the far corner of the café in the campus dining hall wearing a white hat, and you’re told to wear something blue so you can recognize each other.

when you get to the dining hall, the guy sitting at the table in the far corner is… attractive, to say the least. you would even call him your type, if you knew anything about him besides the fact that you’re on a blind date with a randomly paired listener of the program.

“hey! you’re my match, right? i’m junhui.” he stands up, greeting you with a shy smile. he’s deceptively taller than he looks sitting down, and you take him in for a moment.

“yeah, that’s me! nice to meet you!”

“can i buy you coffee?” he asks eagerly. “um, or whatever they have at the coffee shop.”

“oh– sure!” you say. you weren’t sure what you’d been expecting, but you hadn’t been expecting him to be so polite. “thank you.”

“of course,” he smiles.

you stand in line together at the register, and you order a cheap drink off the menu. but as he’s telling the barista his order, something clicks.

“hold on, you sound… really familiar.” you squint, tilting your head. he takes the two cups from the barista and looks over at you, confused. all of a sudden the realization hits you, and your eyes widen. you’d know that voice anywhere. “wait, aren’t you–”

he nods sheepishly, handing you your drink. “yeah, i’m one of the radio hosts.”

holy shit. “that’s cool that you signed up for this too, though. did one of the comm professors match people, or was it random, or…?” you ask, trailing off to let him answer.

“no, me and jeonghan put the matches together. so it was on purpose.” his fingers toy with the cardboard sleeve of his coffee cup, and he lets out a nervous laugh. “would you hate me if i told you i matched us because i’ve had a crush on you since we had com101 together?”

“really?” you laugh. blush creeps into his cheeks. “honestly, i barely paid attention in that class, i only took it for the credits.” you stop, realizing how that must sound to him. “i mean, no offense! i wasn’t trying to be rude, i just–”

he shakes his head quickly. “i get what you meant. and, it was a pretty big class, so. easy to not know everyone.”

“why didn’t you say anything? i know i probably looked grumpy in that class, but i promise i’m not,” you say, adding a smile that you hope looks encouraging.

“no! it’s not you,” he rushes to explain. “i’m just not that great at talking to people.”

“but… you host a radio show?”

“it’s not the same. i’m not truly talking to anybody but jeonghan. there’s a monitor that shows us how many people are listening, but i ignore it.” he leans back in his chair. “i have to do it as part of one of my classes, but i actually really enjoy it now.”

you smile. “that’s good that you found something you like.”

he clears his throat, taking a small sip of his drink. “so, do you, um, listen often? you don’t have to say you do if you don’t, by the way, i won’t be offended. just curious.”

you debate lying to not expose yourself, but he looks so excited to hear that you can’t honestly tell him no. “actually, yeah. i listen almost every program. you have a really nice voice.”

the tips of his ears turn bright red, and immediately you feel awkward again. “sorry, is that weird to say?”

“that’s—no, not at all!” he stammers. “i think it’s a really big compliment. thank you.”

“yeah,” you add, not sure how to respond without making things weirder. you’re both silent for a second, the busy sounds of the dining hall’s café filling the room in the absence of words.

after an almost uncomfortable amount of silence passes, you laugh, trying to lighten the mood. “so, uh, what do we need to do for this to be considered successful?”

“huh?”

“for the charity thing. how do you decide what gets donated and what doesn’t?”

his focus snaps back to you. “oh! we’re donating for all the matches, even if they don’t work. we just said that as, like, an incentive so people would sign up.”

“oh.” you nod, thinking.

“did– did you want to leave?” he asks shyly. “i don’t wanna keep you here if you’re not enjoying it.”

“did you want to leave?” you counter.

“well… no,” he says. “but i don’t wanna force you.”

“you’re not, don’t worry,” you say, shaking your head. it’s awkward, for sure, but it’s far from the worst date you’ve ever been on. the least you could do is stick it out for another half hour or so.

“sorry this is so weird,” he laughs. “i don’t go out a lot.”

“it’s fine.” you smile at him, hoping he’ll relax a little. “is that why you signed up for this?”

“well, kinda,” he nods. “i was hoping i’d recognize somebody’s name and maybe make a new friend. but this is good, too.”

you fight the urge to frown, since it’s obvious he’s trying his best, but you’re confused at his statement. “what do you mean, ‘this’?”

“i… don’t know. what do you think this is?”

“a date,” you say simply. 

“oh!” he says, fiddling with his cup again.

“is that what you want this to be?” you ask gently.

“i– yeah, that would be really cool,” he grins, nodding. “a date.”

you smile at his enthusiasm. he’s cute, and his personality is, too.

“so, what’s working at a radio station like?” you pry. having finally been able to meet the man behind the voice you’ve heard so much of, you can’t say you’re not more than a little curious about who he is.

“oh, yeah, you like hearing me talk, sorry,” he says. your face heats in embarrassment, but before you can defend yourself, he continues on. “um, it’s pretty fun. the machinery’s pretty cool, the microphones and stuff. makes me feel like a professional singer or something. even though it’s more just choosing music to play than me actually talking.”

he looks up. “you can come by while we’re live sometime, if you want,” he says. “the studio’s really nice, they have beanbag chairs and somebody always brings snacks.”

“is that allowed?”

“sure! you can be my special guest,” he grins. “only if you want,” he adds a second later, as if he’s just thought of something.

you smile warmly. “it sounds fun. i’d love to.”

his face lights up. “great! can you come monday? we’re announcing the results of the matchmaking thing then.”

“i’ll be there.”

he pauses. “is this… a second date?” he asks tentatively. god, he’s adorable.

“yes, this is a second date,” you giggle. 

he stands up. “should i walk you to your car? or is that too much?”

he holds the door open for you as you step outside.

you laugh. “no, my apartment’s on campus, i just walked here. but thank you for the offer, you’re really sweet. and thanks for the coffee, too.”

it might be because of the chilly december weather, but his cheeks seem a little pinker than before. “no problem,” he grins. “i’ll see you monday, i guess? for another date?”

“i’ll see you monday,” you confirm with a smile.

he waves, still grinning, and pulls out his phone. as you start to walk away, you hear his voice from behind you, “hannie, dude, you won’t believe what just happened!!”

you giggle to yourself. you can’t wait til monday.

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thank you for reading, i hope you enjoyed! if you liked this, reblog or leave an ask or a comment, it shows me you enjoyed this so i know to write more like this in the future!

[allwaswell16]

A fic rec of One direction fics where one of the characters is starting a new job and has an embarrassing situation due to meeting a co-worker prior to starting the new job as requested in this ask. If you enjoy the fics, please leave kudos and comments for the writers! You can find my other fic recs here. Happy reading!

—Harry/Louis—

୭ you are my destiny (you are the reason that i still believe) by @alwaysxlarrie

(M, 98k, boss/employee) What he hadn't expected was for Louis Tomlinson to waltz into their company, and his life, and change around everything he thought he knew about fate. A Cinderella AU.

୭ Do Not Go Gentle by @afirethatcannotdie

(E, 70k, hospital) A Grey’s Anatomy AU where tensions are high, Harry and Louis are hooking up in secret, and no one has time for love. Or do they?

୭ i'll crash until you notice me by stylinsoncity / @aliensingucci

(M, 61k, boss/employee) Louis sets off to Barbados to oversee the massive resort his family owns known as Sandy Hill.

୭ You're the Light by @allwaswell16

(E, 31k, boss/employee) What he finds on his first day of work is a tall, gorgeous editor named Harry who has the most beautiful green eyes he’s ever seen—and who also happens to be his new boss.

୭ The Greenback Boogie by @lewiswilliamstyles

(E, 28k, boss/employee) When they see each other on Harry's first day of work, it was not the first time they met. The Suits inspired AU no one asked for.

୭ Every Lover's Got A Little Dagger In Their Hand by ishiplouis / @pocketsunshineharry

(E, 22k, enemies to lovers) Does the attraction between two complete opposites really exist, or is it just a myth?

୭ Into This Mess by crimsontheory / @ireallysawanangel

(E, 20k, enemies to lovers) The first day of Louis’ promotion is going well, far better than he expected. That is until his new partner shows up, who just so happens to be the guy who stumbled half-dressed out of his flat that same morning.

୭ Secrets, Santa? by @indiaalphawhiskey

(E, 19k, boss/employee) Right, okay, so Harry had confessed his deepest, darkest, dirtiest secrets to a stranger who turned out to be his boss. No big deal.

୭ Up All Night for Good Fun by @berzerkshires

(E, 13k, boss/employee)  The man leaves his place before Harry wakes up, which makes him sad since it was the best sex he's ever had. But when he goes to his new job on Monday, he realizes the man he slept with is the CEO.

୭ fire for a heart by brainwaves

(M, 12k, office party) Louis and Harry meet in a club. In the beginning, everything that could go wrong does go wrong.

୭ I'm All Yours, I Got No Control by Bearandleonardwrite / @erikabearikuh

(E, 10k, boss/employee) Harry and Louis hook up at a club. When Harry turns up to his new job the next day, he's more than a little surprised to learn that his new boss, Dr. Tomlinson, is Louis.

୭ Should Be, Meant To Be by thecheshirepussycat / @the-cheshire-pussy-cat

(E, 9k, boss/employee) Louis signs up for a Sugar Daddy dating website on a drunken dare.

୭ How It Begins (series) by @phdmama

(E, 8k, classroom parents) New town, new job, new school for his daughter. It's a chance to start again for Louis Tomlinson, a clean slate. Or is it?

—Rare Pairs—

୭ Cool Kids Never Have The Time by wordsnnotes / @quelsentiment

(T, 6k, Zayn/Louis) Zayn auditions to join a band and makes a bad first impression on their bassist.

[blue-thief]

@galaxynajma here are the actor/artist/writer isakainess hcs i mentioned earlier 🫡 (this got wayy longer than i was expecting it to be so it's basically a fic outline atp

kaiser started off as a child actor which explains... everything

when he was really young he popped up in a few roles for some pretty big movies

his biggest role as a kid though came when he was about ten where he played a big supporting character in a long-running kids' sitcom (think stuff like hannah montana, icarly, etc)

he's more or less cut off contact with his parents but he was fortunate to get a hold of his money once he turned 18

he's since moved out, rents out his own modest apartment, and he's shown up in a few moderately successful things

he's far from being an a-list actor but he's got a decent following

even though most people wouldn't be able to recognize his face, he can mention the stuff he's been in and people will be like "ohh yeah i've heard of that, i've been meaning to check it out"

he usually has to wear makeup to cover up his tattoo. most of his notable roles came before he cut + dyed his hair

his goal is to become an oscar-winning actor and he was able to get the lead role for a really serious film. his new hair just happened to suit the role

meanwhile there's ness the writer

he started off studying something STEM-related to appease his parents. besides, he needs a backup plan just in case the whole writing thing doesn't work out

but he soon dropped out due to being overwhelmed by how intense his competition was

fortunately enough he's still in contact with an ex classmate and he got some money doing copywriting for their side gig's website

on top of that he started submitting flash fiction and poetry to different competitions and magazines like CRAZYYY just to make a little more money

kaiser stumbles across one of his pieces, looks into him a little more, and finds ness's personal blog

he reads up on ness ranting about his parents and how he has no money

at this point kaiser's kinda fallen in love but he doesn't wanna seem too weird

and he reaches out to ness saying, "hey ik this sounds kinda weird but if you really wanna pursue your dreams but you're low on money you can become my roommate"

at first ness is like "wtf is this guy gonna try to kill me"

but he's late on rent and about to get evicted so he's DESPERATE

he agrees to meet kaiser to assess the vibes

and well. obviously ness falls head over heels in love with kaiser

(obv kaiser isn't gonna kill ness but don't follow in ness's footsteps guys you probably won't end up being as lucky)

and it works out great. kaiser's more than happy to cover most of the rent, he's out most of the time filming, and ness just has this bigass apartment where he's got ample space to work

anyway while kaiser's out and about one day he's at this cafe

there's this one worker on break, still in his apron and everything

he's off in the corner doodling something

the worker is isagi

and kaiser notices isagi is drawing HIM

kaiser goes up to him all smug like "wow, are you a fan? you want an autograph?"

and isagi's like "bro idfk who you are i just really liked your tattoo"

they talk a bit and isagi tells kaiser where he can find more of his work

isagi's mostly focused on digital art and commissions but he's also studying animation

kaiser finds his instagram and commissions isagi

"that napkin doodle you made of me was pretty good but i'd love to see how well you can capture my beauty given ample time (and money) ;)"

kaiser quickly becomes isagi's most frequent and highest paying client

you can say he's basically become isagi's (and to an extent ness's) sugar daddy

but kaiser likes to think of himself of those wealthy patrons from the renaissance

kaiser loved swinging by the cafe to ask about isagi's progress on his latest commission

one day he overheard isagi panicking about not being able to pay rent

and kaiser's like "you can move in with me and my roommate if you want"

and well. isagi does exactly that

ness kinda gets all crazy and possessive like "WHO'S THIS HOW DID YOU MEET HIM HOW DO YOU KNOW HE'S NOT-"

suffice to say he and isagi don't get along at first

but kaiser's never home so it's mostly just them on opposite sides of the apartment, sending glares at each other every now and then

it's BECAUSE kaiser is never around that isagi and ness are forced to bond with each other eventually

FUCK THIS POSTED INSTEAD OF GETTING SAVED AS A DRAFT

oh whatever i'll probably make this into a fic and fill in the rest that way 😭😭

[dope-trope-105]

Wanna Watch a Movie?

Modern Aegon II Targaryen x Reader

A/N: A prequel to "Piña Coladas", set in the same storyline as "Enamoured by Strawberries" and can be considered a prequel to that as well. I've written this fic in a way where you see the reader's relations with a lot of people in the Targaryen family, and how they hold a place for her in each of their hearts. And I may have pushed this in a little "love triangle" trope as well, which I might continue in future parts or I might not. Summary: The beginning of the vacation of all the Targaryen children, and a cute family lunch beforehand.

Warnings: Age-gap, an obsessive and calculated Aegon.

Word Count: 4.1k

It had been another shitty morning for you at the mansion. Daemon had woken you up, his loud voice coming from your door to take laps shaking your brain like he’d made you do the moment he decided he could. It was the worst possible way to wake up, seeing as you weren’t even a morning person. Yet, as you sat by your mirror running a comb through your hair, freshly showered and post-run, you felt great. You loved this part of the day the most, which was why you’d let Daemon force you to do this every day, your lazy ways needed the push. And it felt phenomenal to not feel like a slug after waking up as well. 

You did the same routine as every day, though you opted to wash your hair today. But after getting dressed as comfortably yet fashionably as you could, you headed for lunch, your stomach growling with hunger. As you walked through the large hallway, having made a right to the grand central staircase, you saw little Aeggie and Visie playing with Ana, their au pair, on a carpet in the living room. You waved to her, giving Aeggie a small kiss on the cheek as he came running up to greet you. Visie preferred Dany's company, but Aeggie had become obsessed with you in a matter of the one minute he spent in your arms. He was only three as of now, looking up at you with large, violet puppy-dog eyes as he lifted his arms, "up-up-up" leaving his mouth in his adorable baby voice. 

"You can take him to lunch, I was just getting ready to do so," said Ana. 

You nodded, flashing her a smile as you lifted Aeggie up, resting him on your left hip. One of his little hands went over your shoulder while the other twiddled your earring.

Little Aegon was a curious baby, his fiddling always finding something on your person to adore, sometimes your earrings, sometimes your necklaces, your bracelets, or even your hair. You walked behind the staircase, finding the smaller drawing-room, Rhaegar sat there with Aemond, who was on his laptop, they were both conversing. You walked over to them. "Hey guys, whatcha doing?" you said, grabbing little Aegon's arm to stop him from pulling your earrings off. "Just chatting," said Rhaegar. Aemond beckoned you to him, and you walked to stand near the armchair he sat on, glancing at his screen.

"You remember I was reading Critique of the Power of Judgement last night?"

"Yeah, yeah, the five-part by Kant you were telling me about?"

"Yeah, that one. Turns out, I hit a bit of a snag. That man's fucking diabolical, it's almost like I’m supposed to read it and decipher it on my own. I know you've got some app or something that answers everything, would something help?" he asked, looking up from the screen to you as you sat on the armrest.

"Umm, yeah, Reddit. It’ll probably have a bunch of people giving different answers, and you could read different perspectives, and find your own amongst them, there’s also chat gpt, it’s this AI-based website, I think, that just scrolls through everything on the internet and gives you the best answer. Use small sentences, I'm sure you'll find what you're looking fo- what are you doing?" You stopped mid-sentence as the sound of a camera made both you and Aemond turn to Rhaegar. "You guys kind of look like a married couple," Rhaegar snickered. You scoffed. Aemond frowned.

"I'm going for lunch, you guys gonna join us?" you asked.

"Yeah," said Rhaegar, eyes on his phone as he scrolled through the pictures he took.

"Yeah, I'll come to you for help, thanks for the advice," Aemond said.

You nodded, turning away and walking down the stone hallway. Aeggie was very calm in your arms. Rhaenyra had been grateful to you for this since day one, he was a noisy baby, but in her arms or yours, he'd almost always end up completely relaxed. More often than not, you'd find the crying baby being handed to you along with his sippy cup, and he'd settle down fairly quickly. Right now his head rested on your shoulder as he played with the hem of your top. You smiled as you whiffed his platinum hair, and it smelled like babies do. The hallway to the dining hall was one of the longest, tapestries hung on both sides. You'd glance at each and every single one as you walked to lunch every time. You always took your time in this hallway, strolling as the only sounds were your breathing and your echoing footsteps on the cool stone floors. Little Aegon would sometimes babble lightly. You reached the end of the hallway soon, turning left and entering the large doors of the hall, which opened to the dining table, chatter filled the air. Most of the family sat there.

"Hey guys," you said, walking in, as greetings rang across the table. Rhaenyra smiled at Aeggie, who'd now fallen asleep in your arms. She began to get up. "It's alright, he's asleep, eat your food," you said to her, and she flashed you another smile, settling back down into her seat. You walked to your own, Aegon, who sat in his own chair moved yours so you could sit. You uttered thanks to him as you settled into your seat, folding one foot upwards, adjusting so Aeggie lay on your chest, soft snores coming from him.

The dining hall, like the rest of the castle, was of stone and decorated in a dark, yet luxurious manner, its stone appearance giving it this beautiful, authentic ambience that was not very common, yet touches of modernity to balance it out dotted the place. The table was stone with dark marble designs, and the seats were plush pale green and light pink. You took out your phone, flipping through your notifications before turning it off and setting it on the table. Baela had been busy chatting away with Viserys. She turned away from him to your direction and softly elbowed you so as to not disturb the sleeping Aeggie.

"Yo, I spent almost all day yesterday begging Father, and he said yes to allowing a trip for us, I'm thinking Bora Bora," she said. You hmm'ed, approving of her choice, obviously. 

"When are we going?" you asked. "Tonight?" she questioned. "It'll take all day to pack, how long are you thinking?" you asked, a whine evident in your former sentence. 

"A week? I want a vacation, I've convinced Jace, Mr. Vizzy and his sister here, Vizzy is gonna convince Rhaegar, Aemond, Helaena and Aegon, Daeron's in already," you nodded thoughtfully. You looked over to Vizzy, who nodded at you with a confident smirk on his face. You knew the stubborn boy would get it done within the hour, no issues. He was one of the most persuasive people you knew. You continued chatting with Baela, ever so often running your hand over Aeggie's small body.

Unbeknownst to you, Aegon was simply gazing at you. He'd known about your slight crush on him for a while now, but you kept it under covers. Since the moment he did realise that about you, he'd caught himself staring quite often. He was so lost in his thoughts that Daeron slapped his arm to make him look away from you. He looked back at his younger brother, annoyance evident in his gaze, who leaned in and whispered, "Daemon's caught you staring. If you're really going to undress her with your eyes, at least don't do it in public for all to see," he said, scoffing.

It was well known Daemon had taken a liking to you, he treated you like Baela, only he shared more interests with you. He played a paternal role in your life since you’d moved into the mansion. Aegon did not want to mess with Daemon one bit. He turned back to his meal, uninterested as he'd throw glances at you ever so often. Aegon loved it when you doted on him. He enjoyed it far more when you'd start to get all girly for him, getting flirty, and touchy, but he knew of your inexperience. You were a master of the pre-sex, you were good at flirting, you knew the right thing to say, the right moment to touch. But Aegon knew if he were ever to take you to bed, you'd completely give in, and let him lead.

He'd seen you interacting with others too. You were very sweet at times, like with Baela, with little kids, and especially little babies. Your actions showed affection, your hugs were long, your words thought out, and you were attentive to those you talked to. This was the reason Aemond had taken a liking to you, as a friend even if you were much younger. He'd seen you two have discussions quite often. And sometimes it made him jealous.

You were also a brat. You'd quip, snap and even anger easily. You were social, but if someone tried to cross limits, your temper would take. Your words could be the most bitter of poisons laced in the sweetest honey. It was obvious the only way to handle you was to dominate you. Take Daemon, for example, he was sweet with you but very strict. Aegon knew about the training, and the pride Daemon held in seeing you excel at it. You were angered easily, yes, but could be subdued if caught by surprise. That's how he imagined you in bed, obedient but demanding, bratty but submissive. You'd top him only with his guidance, only if he asked you to and taught you to, and he'd still be in control. He'd teach you things about him, about your own body. The thoughts made his cock twitch, and he threw you another glance.

Little Aegon on your chest had stirred, and you calmed him as he moved his head, resting on your plush chest, his hand gripping the neckline of your top. The baby had luck, Aegon thought, internally scoffing at himself for being borderline jealous of a baby. He lifted his head to see Daemon looking at him, a lazy gaze settled as if the rogue prince was waiting for him to mess up, so he could pounce. Aegon struck up a conversation with his brother, who eyed him ever so often regarding you.

Beala and you slowly chatted as you ate your food, conversation striking all across the table. "Well if you girls are going to be packing for Bora Bora, who's gonna take the high Valyrian classes?" questioned Daemon, and both of you groaned. Studies you shared with Baela, though you studied biology, she studied psychology. But nonetheless, both of you studied High Valyrian, History and English together. Both of you planned to study from home till you turned twenty and jump straight to majoring in your specific fields. Rhaenyra laughed at your reactions, until Baela chimed up, "Luke, Rhaena and Joff should be the ones being taught, maybe we should leave Jace behind, have you heard his Valyrian?" Baela laughed, and you snorted at Jace's defeated look.

It was true, Jace suffered quite a bit with the language. "I was literally kidnapped, and I spoke Valyrian properly Jace," Dany teased, referring to her mom keeping her and Viserys away from the family till Dany had turned thirteen and Rhaegar decided to intervene, taking his younger siblings with him away from their abusive household. "Alright, don't go on making him cry now," Rhaenyra laughed, snickers rising from across the room and Jace groaned. 

"Welp, I guess we're leaving Jacey behind, enjoy the stormy beaches," you shrugged, giggling at Jace whose eyes bugged out of his head, air-fiving Dany from across the table. "I still don't understand why we can't go," Rhaena whined. Luke shook his head in agreement. "Not getting into this again," Baela sighed, shoving her food into her mouth. 

Lunch was finished soon, and Aeggie had woken from his slumber, crying. "Awww, don't cry baby," you cooed, trying to make him stop. "Give him here, he must be hungry," said Ana, walking over to you as she took the baby from you, who screamed louder before becoming completely silent as he was handed a bottle. "Just like you brother," snickered Daeron. "You'd be writhing in pain but the moment you're handed a bottle, all's well," Daeron made eye contact with his mother before hiding his smirk behind his hands, all of you silently laughing as Aegon frowned. But most of it fell deaf on his ears as he saw you, lips completely sealed off by your palm as you covered your flushed face with your hair, trying not to laugh. "Alright, that's enough," said Daemon. The laughing stopped, but Aegon was sure that order was directed not in his defence, but towards him. Nonetheless, you went back to your room, laughing along with Baela.

By the time night fell, the living room was filled up with items of luggage as arguing came from your room from the next room. "No, not that one, I'll look like a whore," your voice came. "Isn't that the point?" Baela's annoyed voice retorted. "No, I wanna look sexy, I don't wanna look like a prostitute," you said, making Alicent groan at the brash discussion between you girls as the argument continued. Everyone was sitting in the living room, your room was only a floor above, and your audible arguments made it clear you'd forgotten to shut the door. "Why couldn't we just go tomorrow, this is a nightmare," you whined again. "Bitch, Bora Bora is worth this," Baela quipped. "Well, of course, you'd say that, you were probably packed last month," you said, Baela's loud groan of frustration was the only reply. You blamed yourself. Both you and Baela had decided to laze around in your room, and when the time to board was only an hour away, Viserys called you to ask if you were done. Since then panic has sprung across your room.

"Alright, Alright, Alright. Let's just make a plan, we still have forty-five minutes," you finally said. "Forty-four, now but ok. We have seven days, we need two flight outfits, seven outfits for the day, seven for the evening, seven for the night, seven to sleep in, seven for swimming and seven pairs of lingerie. I'm thinking three extra pairs of nightwear, bikinis and lingerie," you finished. 

"Plus we need to plan footwear and jewellery for each outfit, plus makeup, skincare, hair and body stuff," Baela added, "and a toothbrush," you added. It was actually quite funny for the family listening to you two pack. Nonetheless, you came up victorious with the plan and had everything laid out on the bed, only needing to pack it all, Baela had gone to her room, left of yours and done the same. Then you girls switched rooms and scanned each other's things, came back out, approved of each other's choices and went back to your own rooms to pack everything. 

By the time you girls were finished packing, you had almost been reduced to tears while Baela was rethinking every single outfit she packed. Your luggage had been brought down a few minutes before you came down the stairs, promising each other to buy outfits if you didn't like what you had already packed. But once you were surrounded by everyone, your entire group hugged the rest goodbye and boarded the jet. 

Aemond and Rhaegar had decided to sit at the far back, followed by Helaena and Dany. This was the quiet part of the flight. They had been speaking quietly, not much, just silly conversation. Then sat Viserys, Jace and Aegon, they were planning what to do, discussing destinations and all. In the free space of the jet in the front stood you, Baela, and Daeron. Aegon had butted out of the discussion soon, rotating his seat so he could speak to Daeron. But even that had been short-lived for he simply retired to rubbing his fingers over the cold beer bottle as he watched you, seat almost completely reclined. He had sunglasses on so you couldn't see his gaze. But he was completely enamoured.

The stress of packing had you and Baela completely unwinding on the flight. Both of you had downed three shots and had ended up dancing with each other. Aegon watched you swaying your hips, arms going over Daeron's neck often as you three sang out some stupid rap. You had very little tolerance and had resolved to become a tumbling, giggling mess already. Baela was pretty much the same. Jace, Viserys and Daeron all sat in the front, drinking, and playing cards, and were responsible for the music, 

Ever so often Daeron would walk up, always to you. Aegon didn't like how his brother was almost a spitting image of himself, so you'd let loose around him too, he wasn't the same as Aegon obviously, but in your mind, it'd do, and Aegon knew that. The kids would cheer as you and Daeron danced together, your hands on his neck, his hands on your waist. You were slurring out the lyrics, Daeron laughing nonstop as he sang along with you, his deep voice a sharp contrast with your high-pitched one. A turbulence had you falling into his arms, him catching you easily as you leant onto him completely, laughing into his shoulder. Aegon's knuckles had become white from the tight grip on his bottle, his irritation turning to anger when Daeron turned to him, eyes directly with his, he knew he was watching. A slight smirk rested on his face, soon turning back to you.

You guys' party had only lasted for a few hours, because two hours later or so, Baela and you had completely worn out. To Aegon's utter delight, sometime after you guys were done with the music, you'd sat on your seat in front of Aegon and spun it so you'd be facing him. Nobody really paid attention to the both of you, Baela was sitting on one edge, talking with Jace quietly as the three boys plus her and Dany played uno. The ones behind them were either asleep or typing away, although Aegon suspected that it was just Aemond, who couldn't be less bothered with anything. You tapped his arm, waiting for him to reply as you sat on the edge of your seat, hands resting on your knees. He lifted up his glasses.

"Why didn't you dance with us?" you asked, a slight pout on your plump lips that he couldn't look away from, your breaths were slightly heavy and you were still off balance. Apparently sometime during the dancing you had downed two more shots. "Hello?" you questioned, dragging out the word when he didn't answer. "Didn't feel like it," he shrugged. He didn't know why, but he liked playing games with you. Acting indifferent just made you more incessant with him. He loved it. "So you're just going to sleep through the whole flight?" you said, a frown evident on your face. Aegon wondered if he had been a little too indifferent.

"Maybe, do you have something in mind?" he asked. You looked up at the ceiling, taking your lower lip between your teeth as you thought. Suddenly your eyes gleamed.

"Wanna watch a movie?" you asked. Aegon saw an opportunity.

"Where would we sit? Two separate seats for a laptop screen is too far," he said, you frowned again. While Aegon had known you were flirtatious, he knew you wouldn't be too bold with him. Though he basically threw you a bone of an opportunity, he wasn't sure you'd take it. And when your frown didn't budge, he sat up, face coming closer to yours as he leaned towards you, eyes boring into yours."How about you sit in my lap? The seat's big enough for both of us," you smiled at his suggestion. "Okay," you said, colour flowing onto your cheeks, fingers reaching for the laptop bag kept on your table.

Aegon laid back again, his seat had already been adjusted to the point of basically being a bed. "Come on then," he said, and you stood up, turning around and sitting on the edge of his seat before scooting towards him until your back hit his chest, you moved your head to one of his shoulders before turning around, forgetting what you were going to say when you realised how close you actually were.

"Something on your mind?" he questioned, a lazy smile settling on his face at your expression. "I-uh, yeah umm, can you see the screen?" you breathed out. He could smell the cherry lollipop you'd been eating to mask the vodka on your breath.

"Yeah, no issues," he shrugged, snaking his arms around your waist like a seatbelt. He watched you basically squirm under his gaze, your smile only growing wider as you blushed more. Aegon was loving this, he couldn't give half a flying fuck about the movie if he could be doing this with you for two more hours. Testing your limits and watching you squirm. Your eyes went back to the laptop as you opened Netflix, you'd lifted one leg up, and balanced your other hip somewhere along his thigh as your head rested on his shoulder. "What do you wanna watch?" you asked him, not turning around this time, you didn't trust yourself. 

"Anything," he simply said, one hand playing with the hem of your shirt. Your hair smelled like your shampoo, with a hint of sweat too. He'd rested his head back. "Grown-ups?" you questioned. "I don't think I know it," he said. "It's a comedy, see?" you clicked on it for him to read. He nodded, knowing he wasn't going to be watching it, but wouldn't hurt if it were a comedy. You played it, relaxing back into Aegon's chest.

You'd be giggling here and there, pointing out all of the numerous celebrities that kept showing up. It had been ten minutes into the movie when Aegon's hold slightly relaxed, his hands going back as one of his rubbed small circles on the outer side of your thigh, maybe a little close to your ass but he blamed it on your shorts. It was a very absent-minded move, but he felt you tense slightly. He saw the goosebumps rise on your flesh. A smirk grew on his lips. "Are you cold?" he asked, his fingers now grabbing your thigh as he moved his thumb across your skin slowly. You cleared your throat. "No," you squeaked. You could feel his breath on your neck, your heart had been exploding. Nonetheless, you looked back at the screen, mind focused solely on the hand on your thigh.

You'd passed out in less than halfway through the movie. Aegon's movements had at the beginning been invasive but soon became relaxing until it almost lulled you to sleep. Aegon softly called out to you, but you didn't say anything. He grabbed the laptop, turned it off and dumped it on the table next to his seat. Aegon had also gotten tired. It was around 4 am on Dragonstone right now, so pretty late for you all. You'd slightly stirred and moved to rest your head on his chest sideways as you curled your legs up slightly, cold no doubt. Aegon had one hand resting on your thigh as he drifted to sleep as well, the smell of you enough to relax him more than two Xanax.

He'd woken to find the frowning face of his brother sitting in front of him, you still in the same position, fast asleep. When his gaze didn't waver, Aegon slightly groaned. "What do you want?" he whispered, voice thick with sleep. "What are you doing?" Daeron asked, annoyed. "Sleeping," he shrugged. "She's basically a child," he said. "What does her being an infant have to do with anything?" he quipped. "Aegon you know this is wrong," Daeron huffed, sitting back in his chair, most people were still asleep.

The sky was a warm orange colour. "She's just using me for warmth, what's the big deal in that," he said, bored of the conversation. Daeron was far too annoying sometimes. "You know how she feels about you," he finally said. Though he did not want to speak out the truth. Aegon smirked. "And how are her feelings about anyone any of your concern, dear brother?" Aegon asked. "Because you'll just end up using her," he said. This didn't feel right. Aegon put his head back, eyebrows furrowed in thought. Would he actually just use you, or did he feel something for you too? His hands absent-mindedly rubbed circles on your thigh again. He closed his eyes again. He'd rather sleep than think.

[bit-odd-innit]

Fic: Somewhere That’s Green

[based on a post I made about Eddie’s future]

It’s a hole in the wall just off the main drag, the kind of place you can’t find unless you know to look. In a previous life it had been a pizzeria, which explained the bright green vinyl awning Eddie had no intention of replacing. He’d kept the pick-up window, too, used it to host “office hours.” (“Office hours” was supposed to mean “deliver personalized music recommendations to interested passers-by.” Now it means “help harried, double-parked parents reschedule music lessons.”) 

He’d also kept the apartment upstairs. They have a house now—a nice one, with a wrap-around porch and a big backyard and a cluster of hedges Steve always insists are “a mess”—but when Eddie trips into an inventory hole and loses track of time, it’s nice to have a place to crash. If it’s not a school night sometimes Steve joins him, and they’ll relive the halcyon days of their early twenties, buoyed by cheap beer, diner curly fries, and giddy infatuation. (The infatuation has only grown and flourished even as his tolerance for salty food has withered. Acid reflux is a bitch.)

He’s happy they kept the apartment. He happy knowing that if someone needs it—someone scared, broke, desperate for a lifeline and a scrap of no-strings-attached kindness—it’s something he can provide. 

Initial plans had been to focus on music, just music. It was supposed to be the utopic all-metal record store of Eddie’s nightmares.  But as he started to build stock, he remembered how hard it had been to find merch for the things he liked. How a pin or a patch or poster he’d dug up at a garage sale four towns over made him feel more seen than anything on offer at the local mini-mall. How he wanted to be a hub for the weird shit not everyone liked, but the people who did loved. His horrible little magpie brain fluttered from shiny thing to shiny thing, and by the time opening day rolled around the store was a one-stop shop for all things music, merch and whatever wacky knick-knacks tickled Eddie’s fancy. Or horrified Steve. Or both. Both was best.

The Corroded Coffin guys slotted in easily. Francis always liked doing promo for their gigs, was good at it, too. But by the early 2000s, his methods were apparently so outdated his daughter begged to let her take over. (“He’s stapling fliers to telephone poles, Uncle Eddie. You don’t even have a website.”  

“What is a telephone pole covered in fliers if not the working man’s web-ed site?”

“Oh my God give me your credit card I’m buying you a domain name.”

“A what?”)

Jeff got his CPA and took over the financials, reeling Eddie in whenever he was struck by the urge to make a impulsive, outlandish purchase. (“I genuinely don’t understand how you make money.” 

“It’s cause I don’t do my taxes.”

“I do your taxes. At a great personal expense.”) 

Gareth was instrumental (heh…) in building up the music program—soundproofing the basement and hiring instructors and coordinating concerts and organizing payment plans, all the nitty-gritty non-music stuff that made Eddie’s head spin. At some point it just made the most sense for Eddie to cede control, let him operate it however he saw fit. (“This is your baby, dude. It’s a baby that took form within my own, much larger baby. But it’s yours.”

“I’m touched by your words and appalled by your phrasing.”

“That’s the only way I could have said it.”) 

(Gareth also once described the store as an “Elevated Hot Topic.” Eddie still hasn’t decided when he’s going to kick his ass.)


Momentum grew. Ideas compounded ideas. A kid asked how to sew a patch to his backpack and it snowballed into the Build Your Own Battlevest Workshop. Wayne suggested knocking out the connecting wall between the walk-in freezer and the pantry, and now thrice weekly Eddie runs table-top games for varying age-sets and skill-levels. (At Steve’s request, the elementary school group is called H-E-DOUBLE HOCKEY STICKS FIRE CLUB. Not because he thinks it needs to be censored. He just thinks it’s funny.)  (He’s right.)

It was supposed to be a record store but now it’s so much more. Now there are listening parties and movie screenings and little league teams with his store’s name on the back of their jerseys and and and—

Eddie used to think, if he got lucky, he’d last a year. Now he’s closing in on 30. He was profiled by the local newspaper. They called him “a pillar of the community.”

Wild. 

It’s a warm, sunny April morning. He’s sitting at the takeout window, sipping coffee from the bottom half of a teapot-teacup combo that reads, in a menacing blood-red font, THIS FREAK DRINKS TEA. His hair is gathered in a loose braid, the ends still damp from his post-run shower. (Sometime in their mid-thirties Steve tricked him into maintaining a consistent cardio routine, and now he’s the type of person who gets out of bed at the crack of dawn to knock out an “easy three.” He’s a monster, a husk of his former self. A husk with a much-improved lung capacity and thighs that can juice a watermelon but nonetheless HUSK.) The middle school is about a half mile from the shop; he pulls faces at all the students filtering past. (Steve’s kids, current and former, refer to Eddie exclusively as Mr. Munson’s Husband. It never fails to thrill him.)

He’s leaning back to flip the record piping through the store’s speakers (“Dustin I don’t care if it’s ‘easier’ to ‘create a Spotify account,’ whatever that means. We play vinyl only! Let me be pretentious about this one thing!”) when he hears a meek, polite cough coming from just beneath the window. He peers out and on the sidewalk stands a girl. She’s small, too little to be one of Steve’s. She clutches the strap of her backpack, blue eyes huge with nerves and determination. 

“Hail and well met, weary traveler!” He’s speaking in what Steve calls his Dork Voice, the slightly tuned-down version he uses to put shy kids at ease. “How might I be of assistance?” The girl purses her lips, sets her shoulders, shakes her shaggy bangs out of her face. Eddie thinks suddenly of Nancy and Robin and his heart clenches.

“Do you like games?” She asks.

He smiles softly. Drops the act. “Yeah.” He rests his scarred cheek in the cradle of his palm. “I like games. Do you like games?”

The dam breaks.

“Yes!” She replies at once, breathless with enthusiasm. “My family plays a lot of board games, like Game of Life and Monopoly, and they’re okay but kind of boring, but my brother taught me how to play Settlers of Catan and I really liked that, and my friends and I played Werewolf at a sleepover but we made up a bunch of extra rules to make it harder, and my cousin showed me this video game where the ending changes based on what choices you make and that’s so cool—”

“Alright, slugger.” Eddie can’t help but laugh. “What game are you looking to play?”

The girl collects herself. “Okay,” she says. “Okay, so. So I like it in games where there are rules, but also you can make stuff up? And you can do something weird that might ruin everything but also might pay off? And sometimes you have to work with other people to accomplish your goal, but alliances can break?” Eddie nods. “So there’s this one game. It sounds like so much fun, but nobody I know plays it. They play it on this show I like, well, okay, it’s not really a show, it’s, uh, okay do you know what a podcast is?” Eddie beams.

Steve swapped study hall coverage so he could pop in for lunch. Tonight is parent-teacher conferences, which means Steve’ll be home late, which means Eddie will get absorbed in a project and either crash upstairs or stumble home well after Steve’s gone to bed, which means they’ve got to snatch the time together they can get. They split a sandwich, a salmon burger from Costco Eddie threw in the air fryer and smashed up with avocado and grilled poblano pepper. (”It’s heart healthy!” “You’re heart healthy.” “Aw.” “I meant that as an insult.” “I’m not taking it as one, mwah mwah mwah.”) Eddie eats too fast, as he often does, and drags his nails over the veins of Steve’s forearm to distract himself from his gastrointestinal tract turning inside out.

“🎶Myyyy babyyyy myyyyyy babyyyyyy,” he hums against the shell of Steve’s ear. “You’reeee my babyyyyy sayyyy it to meeeeee🎶.” “Alright,” he huffs, tapping his fingers to the knobby bone of Eddie’s wrist. He presses a kiss to the underside of Eddie’s jaw and rises. “I gotta get back.” He slings his messenger bag over his shoulder, gathers the papers he’d promised he’d grade but didn’t. Eddie watches him readjust, watches him smooth down the salt-and-pepper hairs dusting his temples, watches him push his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He catches Eddie watching and asks, slyly, “What?”

Eddie wants to say, I love you. He wants to say, you’ve made me happier than I ever thought I could be. He wants to say, I’m so grateful I built this life with you. 

But he’s still himself, so what he says is, “Those khakis make your ass look great.”

Steve scoffs, and with a bitchy eye roll he sinks his weight onto his back foot and says, “I KNOW,” and there he is. There’s the man he married. He looks over his shoulder before he leaves, his honey-warm eyes liquifying Eddie’s spine.

“Hey,” he murmurs. “I love you too.” Eddie kisses him and kisses him and kisses him.  Pretty good life. 

[jessicafangirl]

The First Chapter of My Ghost Fic is here!

Please be kind. I've not written anything for this group before but god damn do I love Copia and this idea hit me and I decided to do it.

I'm a wordy bitch. You've been warned. You can also read this on Archive Of Our Own here

@nequissimus-canis asked to be tagged which was very kind. This is also dedicated to @foxybouquet who I blame for so many amazing things that I've learned and who enables me beautifully. You are my fave Ghestie.

Music Eternal, Fire Infernal.

Jennifer Travers is at the tail end of 40 and decides to do something spontaneous. Unfortunately things REALLY don't go as planned. Her life is in now in danger and the only place of refuge is a satanic church. She knew the band Ghost already, but she didn't know until that day that all of it was real and it would lead to something that would change her life forever, in more ways than one. And it would lead to some revelations for Copia Emeritus too.

Chapter 1

“The cemetery here is close to 300 years old. It contains some interesting residence that have a history that will send a shiver down your spine.” The tour guide’s Maglite flashed along the path and caught one or two of the “residence” headstones as he droned on in a bored monotone. As the group walked through the dark, Jennifer realized this was not one of her best ideas. Her breath was visible as she huddled in her hoodie. Let’s go on the spooky ooky tour, she thought to herself. Let’s troll through an old graveyard at night. Hey there’s a satanic church nearby…what could go wrong? All of that sounded great on paper but the reality was really kind of fucking miserable. This guy knew literally nothing about what he was talking about. Jen could have done a better job…not that that would have been hard.

She sighed and tightened the straps on her backpack. At 47 walking while carrying a backpack weighted down by her Switch, iPad, and clothes was not as easy as it used to be. But she wanted to travel light. This trip was something she’d promised herself for a while. After the year she’d had, a spur of the moment trip to the east coast to visit some of the older and creepier parts of the country was something she decided to do. She shoved some things into her bag and hopped on a plane. And now here she was probably going to break her leg because she decided to take a night tour like a moron.

It was pretty though, she had to admit as she and the four other suckers crunched through dead leaves. Very Universal Horror. She could almost see Dwight Frye and Colin Clive digging up one of those old graves if she squinted right. In the distance she could see the large, sprawling church that looked like it belonged in Romania and not in New York State. The guide had said that the Ghost project was in residence. When he’d said that it had cemented her decision to go on this insane tour just in case she could catch a glimpse of the band. She’d loved their music and the whole mystique but hadn’t realized it was a REAL church of Satan until…well…there was the church. She’d never seen a concert in person either, but the videos she’d caught online were interesting. The current lead singer was apparently a sweetheart for a satanic pope. She could hear her elderly, right wing mother screeching about how just having that thought was going to send her to hell. God knew the list her family had was already long enough for what was wrong with her, what was one more thing.

Jen realized she’d lagged behind as she’d kept looking up at the church and hurried to catch up. Even though the guide wasn’t the best he had a flashlight, and she had no freaking idea where anything was around there. That extra 20 pounds she wanted to always lose was felt hard as she rejoined the group. “The church you see is of course part of the Satanic Church of Emeritus. I’m sure some of you are fans of the band Ghost and if you aren’t you can find out information about the church and the band through this website…” The tour guide literally rambled off a web address and Jen raised an eyebrow. Were they supposed to write that down in the dead of night?

They kept walking and the guide led them into another area of the cemetery, this one with large tombs and statues spread out along the grounds. This was obviously the more well to do section and Jennifer was awestruck by how beautiful it was, even if it was slightly crumbling. The moon was shining down brightly now, full and clear, so she could walk without too much risk of falling on her ass as she was want to do. Her Converse sneakers weren’t really made for uneven ground, but so far, she was doing okay. As the tour guide rambled on Jen pulled out her iPhone and started taking some pictures of the statues. The one of the grim reaper was wonderfully gothic and even had a skull carved inside the stone robes that made it up. She headed over to another area where the largest crypt sat with a giant letter E carved over an archway entrance that had rose bushes on either side. They were old bushes that had grown nearly as tall as the entrance. The flowers were large, red, and smelled amazing. She loved roses but even she was surprised at how big the thorns were on those plants. It was almost like they were there not for the flowers but for some sort of deterrent to keep people from trying to get in or maybe even vandalize the tomb. When she leaned over to take a whiff of one blood red bud, she noticed the sharp little daggers were half an inch long and nearly that thick.

Jen took a picture of the entrance, her eyes taking in more of the designs that could be seen in the stonework not covered by the plants. Sigils…inverted crosses…pentagrams and peeking down from the roof were even a couple of gargoyles. Ah…yeah…satanic church. She slipped her phone into her back pocked of her jeans and ran her fingers through her short red hair, cracking her stiffening neck and realized she should get back to the group. According to her phone and watch it was nearly midnight.

But when she turned around, she realized the boring tour guide and the tiny group were gone. “Did that dip wad just leave me?” She said aloud. God, he really did suck. She headed back the way she came and sure enough the cemetery was empty save for the graves and her. “Well…this is the start of every god damn horror movie I’ve ever seen.” She mumbled to herself. Jen realized she’d been doing that a lot more over the last year or so. But now it was getting to be a habit. Being alone so much you just sort of did it, maybe to remind yourself you had a voice.

With a heavy sigh she took out her phone and checked the battery. She was still at a good 80 percent, but the bad news was her cell service was nowhere to be found. “And now, your life as directed by Wes Craven.” She spoke. “Fuckery doo…okay…” She looked up and was thankful that the moon was still pretty bright. With a heavy sigh she headed out of the graveyard. Jennifer headed towards the direction she was fairly certain they had come from. There was…sort of a path through the trees. The starting point was down towards the bottom of the heavily treed hill where a parking lot sat, not really used. She’d been brought there by a van for the tour. If that ass left in the van before she got down, there she was going to set fire to something. Probably the van if she found it again with the idiot inside.

About twenty mins of walking later she crossed her arms in front of herself realizing her KISS Destroyer hoodie wasn’t near enough of a layer over her thin t-shirt. She was also realizing she was well and truly lost. “If I hear Ki ki ki ma ma ma at any moment I will crap myself.” She said through slightly chattering teeth. The moon decided it had done enough work for her and was now covered in black, oppressive clouds. Jen pulled her phone out and turned on the flashlight. Still no signal. She pondered what she’d done to piss off the universe. She came to a steep downgrade and carefully picked her way down. Luckily it wasn’t too bad for too long and evened out. Unfortunately it led to a thick patch of trees. Jen started praying to whoever was listening that there were no ticks or spiders around. Then she wanted to punch her own face for even thinking about ticks and spiders.

The phones light was barely helping due to the canopy of leaves and how close together everything was. After another few minutes though she heard something. It sounded like talking, movement. This didn’t look like it was near the parking lot though. Did lumberjacks work this late? Was this even a place lumberjacks would be? That made her remember how Dexter wound up ending and she got momentarily depressed. Then she heard the voices again. Well, people was a good thing, right? In the middle of the night in the woods. Jen realized caution might be a good idea.

She headed towards the voices, keeping her camera pointed to the ground and discovered the woods thinned out a bit here. There, in a tiny patch of cleared ground three men stood and one man was on his knees, hands tied behind his back. Jen’s eyes got wide as she saw the large gun in one of the men’s hands. The man on his knees was crying. “I swear to god Donnie…I didn’t want to do it. But they had pictures. I couldn’t…” The man on his knees sobbed. He was balding and looked like he was in his 60s. His face even from this distance was bruised and bloody.

“Shut the fuck up.” The one who was Donnie she assumed spoke harshly, kicking the man in the stomach and making him double over. “I don’t give a god damn about pictures. You sold us out. We’ve got a fuck ton of problems now. But we’re about to have less of one.” He spit on the man’s face and nodded to the other man with the gun. He was tall, unemotional, with a face as blank as a robot. His eyes were so dark they could have been black. He calmly raised the gun and shot the man in the head once and then in the back for good measure. The man fell to the ground in a heap.

Jen hadn’t even had time to react it had all happened so fast but in that moment when it hit her she stepped away in shock and horror, her foot cracking a twig and flashing her phone up towards them, the fucking light like a beacon. The murderers turned and looked straight at her. The one with the gun raised it and fired, but it missed her. And that’s all Jen needed to find the inner strength to sprint back the way she’d come.

“Get that bitch.” Donnie told Blake, the man with the gun and his partner Gary. “I’ll take care of this trash. Hurry the fuck up.”

Gary nodded, straightening the glasses on his head. He and Blake quickly moved towards where the witness had been. There was no way there was anyone else around. This spot was used specifically because no one ever came down there. They weren’t quiet running through the brush and trees. There was no need to be.

Jennifer was running like she never had before. Small branches slapped at her face and arms, and she nearly tripped three times. In her head from far away she thought about every idiot teenage girl who had tripped and died she’d made fun of in a slasher movie. “Sorry…” she thought as she cried. The crying was a problem and something she couldn’t stop or had control of. It was making it harder to breathe and she needed to breathe to run. Running was important as she scrambled up the now incline, her fingers digging into the dirt to make sure she didn’t slide back down. Where the fuck could she go? What the shit was she supposed to do?

She’d shoved her phone back into her pocket, not wanting the light to attract the two killers on her tail. She didn’t have service anyway even if she had a second to call the cops. She didn’t know anyone here. She was alone and it was dark, and she was going to die.

She broke through another barrier of trees, and she knew she had gone a different way than she’d come at that point in her scramble to get away. Jen tried to breathe, to calm her heart, but she felt like she was going to have a stroke. She glanced to her right and then her left, and that’s when she saw it. There was a gate, black wrought iron and it was open. She ran to it and glanced beyond it and realized the path led into part of the Emeritus church. The sprawling building loomed large above her suddenly. Well…the devil or death? Which did she want? Right then the devil was looking good. Jennifer quickly made her way down the pathway. There were little black iron solar lights that lit the stone walkway which was thankfully flat. Her legs were burning as bad as her lungs at this point.

The path led to two metal doors and Jen realized she may still be screwed if they were locked. She skidded to a halt and took a chance to look behind her. There was no one yet…but that didn’t mean anything. She took another breath and said a little prayer…not sure who might be answering them where she was trying to get into and grabbed the door handle. That’s when she heard the sounds of footsteps from far away, voices murmuring low. “Please please please…” she begged and pulled on the door handle. It swung open. She didn’t hesitate, she went in and pulled the door closed behind her.

Jen’s wide blue eyes glanced around the dimly lit hallway she found herself in. The air smelled of incense. It was cool inside the building and the sweat that had broken out during her run immediately started to get chilled and she shivered from a combination of that and pure fear. Her adrenaline was pumping. The men would figure out there was only one place she could have gone. She needed to hide. She turned right and moved quickly hoping not to run into anyone. Jen entered through another set of double doors, these not metal but stained dark wood. So far, she’d not seen anyone else and for that she was grateful. She just needed to hide away somewhere and think, just calm down and think. Maybe the church was empty…maybe they were on tour or something…

The double doors led to a short hallway that opened into what could only be called a small chapel. Though instead of a cross or a Jesus crucifixion scene in front of the pews there was a large statue of a very beautiful devil. His wings looked like they were carved out of black stone, maybe ebony or onyx though that would be a lot of onyx. The rest of him was marble. His horns wrapped backwards on a head covered in carved ringlets of hair like a really majestic goat. There was real red velvet draped over the statue whose right arm was raised, two fingers extended. His other hand was outstretched as if beckoning you. Jen was unnerved as she looked at it, the chill on her skin seemingly growing. Then she heard a door slam, and it pulled her out of wherever her mind was going.

The room smelled even stronger of incense and was lit with black candles and a low light from a red and clear crystal chandelier that hung from the ceiling. There were pews, the pulpit area and over on the far right what looked like a small, dark wood confessional. That was the only place she could really try to hide in she saw. She glanced back once hoping it was just some friendly neighborhood satanist that had closed a door and then moved quickly to the confessional. She opened the door and closed it quickly, ignoring the seat and sitting on the floor. She drew her knees up to her chin and felt the tears on her cheeks again, not able to stop them. Jen tried to breathe quietly, tried to calm down. They’d hear her sounding like a dying elephant if she didn’t get this under control. And that’s when the divider slid open making her jerk.

A softly accented voice spoke through the partition “Hello…hi?”

Jen realized there was a priest or someone on the other side…oh shit she’d dragged someone into this. She whispered as low as she could, realizing that the man couldn’t see her where she was hunkered on the floor. “I’m..down here…please…I just need to hide.”

“Sorella…” The man’s voice took on a note of concern. She glanced up and saw an eye looking through the partition. It was white as the ivory of the statue. It widened in surprise. “What is the matter dolce signora?” He asked her.

Jen swallowed thickly; how much should she say? She needed to hide. This guy could just as easily say “Here she is boys. Hail Satan.” But for some reason his voice made her think he wouldn’t. “There are….men…they’re after me. Please I just need to hide until they leave…they’ve got a gun…maybe more than one.” She had to warn him.

She saw a bit more of his face then as he leaned closer to the divider. It was dark but she could see him more clearly as he appeared to be studying her. Jen recognized him as the paints on his face came into view, the green eye and the white. Holy crap this was the guy. This was the lead of the band. And he was taking confessions? What the hell would satanic confessions deal with? And good god this was all really happening to her. A wave of nausea came over her and she had to fight the bile coming up her throat.

“Signora, are you hurt? Have they harmed you?” He asked her gently.

Jennifer shook her head. “No…no…I just need to hide.”

She rested her forehead on her knees. Italian…he was speaking Italian mixed with English. That’s what the accent was. It just kept becoming more surreal. She remembered the accent from the concert videos. He didn’t have it when he sang. But he had it when he was talking to the audience.

She heard it then, the door opening to the chapel. Footsteps. Two sets of them. It was them. It had to be them. She saw the dual-colored eyes glance up at the sound and she started shaking. Well, this was it…spur of the moment decisions have led you to a satanic church and dying horribly. Great job girl. Here lies Jennifer Travers…she fucked up a lot. Only she wouldn’t have a tombstone, it would be a shallow grave in the woods where she’d end up feeding a group of feral badgers with her rotting corpse. Maybe they would be cute badgers. Fuck.

He looked back down at her. “Signora,” he whispered softly, “Stay here, do not make a noise, si?”

Jen nodded, realizing she was trusting a complete stranger with her life at this point. What else could she do?

Blake and Gary glanced around the chapel, starting to move through the pews, looking for where the woman could have gone. Blake glanced at the statue of Lucifer and paused, feeling like the thing was watching them. He knew what the place was, but he’d not been inside. Gary touched his shoulder and he nearly jumped. He pointed towards the confessional booth and nodded. They started heading that way when the door to the priests side opened.

Out stepped a man in black robes with gold and blue satin accents. Golden upside-down crosses where stitched into the fabric. He wasn’t tall, but he had a presence that was only made more intense by the fact his face was painted like a stylized skull. His brown hair was brushed back from his face, greying at the temples with thin lines on his face showing he wasn’t exactly a young man anymore. Blake was weirded out though by the eyes when he saw them. Ringed in the black makeup they were different colors. One green, one white, both of them staring at him and Gary in a way that made him as unnerved as the devil statue.

“Benvenuti Fratelli,” the man said, his black gloved hands raised, pressed together and giving a little bow. “I am Papa Emeritus the 4th…are you here for confession?” He asked them, one brow raised. “I was just getting ready to lock up for the night.”

Blake looked at Gary. Gary was the talker. He glanced at the strange man shaking his head. “No we’re not here to confess. We’re looking for someone. Anyone else come through this way? Anyone try to break in?”

Copia Emeritus lowered his hands while studying the two men in front of him. Something in them reeked of malice and he could sense it. It was part and parcel of being a Papa. You knew who to protect your flock from when you were in a church like theirs. He wouldn’t have needed to hear the terrified sorella in the confessional’s words to know these two were dangerous. He saw the bulky outline of the gun in a holster beneath the tall ones jacket. He’d seen enough crime films and series to know what to look for when it came to that too.

He pursed his lips. “It’s not really possible to break in here. All are welcome at our church.” Copia walked closer to the men, away from the hiding place of the woman and making sure their eyes followed him. “Even you signories if you wish to join us.”

Gary gave a cold smile. “We’re not really the church going type.” He replied.

Copia nodded, returning the smile with as much of a chilly demeanor as the man in front of him. “Well, that is too bad, si? Perhaps someday.” He gave a slight shrug. “But as I said, I am getting ready to lock up for the night.”

The double doors opened then, as if on cue and in walked three figures in all black, silver matching masks on their faces, each a devil with no eyes. One was bigger than the others but all three looked as though they could bench press a truck. Copia glanced over “Ah, tempismo perfetto.” He turned to the new arrivals. “These gentlemen were just leaving, would you be so kind as to as to show them out? Grazie.” With a graceful wave of his hand he motioned for the two men to head towards the doors.

Blake looked at Gary and Gary gave a subtle shake of his head. He knew she was here somewhere. There was nowhere else she could have gone. But they couldn’t do anything right now…there were too many people, and it would be too big a mess. And the silver masked figures were making the hair raise on the back of his neck. He moved and Blake followed him as they walked out. Gary turned to the painted faced freak. “We might stop back now that you mention it.”

Copia raised a brow. “Of course, as I said all are welcome. We’d love to have you.” He gave him another slight bow as they walked out into the hallway, the doors closing behind them, his smile making his face look even more skull like for a moment.

Gary narrowed his eyes, trying to ignore the weird feeling creeping up his spine at the entire group of freaks. Donnie wouldn’t be happy about losing the woman, but then again…he knew she wasn’t really lost. She was here somewhere in the freak house. He followed Blake and the three silver masked weirdos.

When the doors closed behind them Copia moved to slide the lock in place. He took a breath and let it out slowly. He hadn’t expected a confrontation like that tonight. Nor had he expected a frightened woman cowering in his confessional. He needed to find out what had happened, the whole story. And he needed to make sure the lady was okay.

Copia very slowly opened the door to the confessional area and saw her with her head laying on her knees still, shaking like a leaf. She looked up suddenly and he saw the tear streaks on her face. Her face has a few cuts and marks on it from dirt. Her knees and hands were covered in it as well. Her blue eyes were the color of the satin on his robes, but they were rimmed in red from her tears. They were wide and terrified as they looked up at him.

The Papa crouched down, taking a knee next to her and held out a gloved hand. “Cara, they are gone. You are safe here.” He said softly. She was scared and looked at any moment she’d try to bolt away. He couldn’t have her doing that since the safest place she could be right then was inside the church. “I’m Papa Emeritus the 4th….but you can call me Copia.” He gave her a small smile.

She didn’t seem to be convinced yet that she was actually safe with him. He noticed the front of her hoodie and gave a slight nod, his smile growing, “Ah, you are a fan of singers in makeup, si?”

Jennifer realized what he was talking about. The irony was actually funny as she took a breath and wiped her eyes. “Yeah…yes…I grew up listening to them.”

Copia nodded. “I did as well.” He decided this was working, get her mind on something else. “Who was your favorite cara?”

Jen found her breathing was getting easier. She wasn’t trying to gulp air into lungs that didn’t want to work. “Uh…I always liked The Starchild…but The Demon was great…he was a vampire first though.” Rattling off Kiss trivia…she’d nearly been shot, and she was talking about Gene Simmons and spewing blood.

The Papa nodded, “Well, due to my position I must go with The Demon as a personal favorite, eh? But The Starchild has a voice…” Here he placed two fingers to his lips and did an air kiss. “Bellissimo.”

Jennifer laughed…she actually laughed. Just another surreal experience in a night filled with them “I guess you would be team demon.”

“Si, I would.” He reached closer to her with his hand, “Cara, would you like to go somewhere more comfortable than the floor?”

She nodded then and he helped her to stand. Her legs were sore, and she was glad he offered her a helping hand. She nearly stumbled but he steadied her. “Sorry…I’m…I ran up the hill and it wasn’t great.” She let go of his hand and looked at her own, covered in dirt and cuts from clawing up it.

Copia saw the state of her more clearly now. It was obvious she’d been through an ordeal already. She was still shaking though she’d calmed down some. “I can imagine.” He said, “May I have your name?” He asked her.

“Jennifer…Jen…I’m…” She felt a little woozy. “I’m…okay…I think I may need to sit down.”

Copia took her arm. “Jennifer you are safe here as I said. We are a haven for those in need and trouble.” He led her over to one of the pews. “Here, allow me to take your bag.” Jen slid the straps off her shoulders and watched Copia place it next to her. She sat down on the cushioned seat.

Copia examined her a bit closer. She was pale, very pale. He realized whatever had happened she was going into or was already in shock. “Jennifer,” he said her name and she glanced up at him. “Can you tell me what happened?”

Jen wanted to tell him. She needed to tell someone and the nice guy in the skull make up was right there. But when she started thinking about it her lungs started to ache. “They…they killed…oh god they killed that guy…” She managed to get out.

Copia’s eyes widened. Oh Dark Lord…she’d witnessed a murder? “You saw this happen cara?” He asked, sitting down next to her.

She shook her head yes. “They shot him…twice. I…I couldn’t do anything it happened so fast.” She turned and looked at him. “They saw me and they…they shot at me. And I ran.” Her voice was breaking, she couldn’t breathe as the image of the man’s head basically exploding came to her unbidden. She was trembling so hard that she thought she was going to break apart. But she couldn’t stop it, she tried but she couldn’t.

Suddenly she stood up and started backing away from the nice satanist. She’d just told him what had happened. “I’m…I shouldn’t have…” She was rambling and Jen found herself growing dizzy. They’d want to kill him too now, right? She’d just signed this rock stars death warrant, hadn’t she? The nice devil guy with the pretty green eye. Oh god there were black spots in front of her.

Copia stood up and moved close to her. He’d been to enough concerts to tell when someone was about to collapse from heat exhaustion or something else. And right then she was having a hell of a panic attack, something he was personally familiar with. “Jennifer, you’re okay…it’s okay…” He moved closer to her slowly.

“No…no…not…okay…” Oh god, she couldn’t feel her legs. The blood rushed from her head, and she felt herself buckling. She started to hit the floor and felt arms catching her, heard the rustling of fabric as she was caught before she could. The scent of incense was stronger than before. She glanced up and through a haze she saw a skull staring down at her and three silver-headed demons. Before she blacked out completely, she realized…she felt safe.

TRANSLATIONS: Benvenuti Fratelli - Welcome Brothers Sorella - Sister Cara - Dear Si - Yes Signora - Lady

[spacerhapsody]

It has recently come to light that my deepest, darkest (Digimon) fandom secret is that I didn’t always ship Taito, and @hazelestelle was kind/curious enough to ask the following question in that shipping ask game:

18. A ship you never thought you would ship but do.

Buckle up, kids, because it’s time for a (long) trip down memory lane.

The year is 2002, and after about a year of exploring the internet via small guestbooks and messaging boards, someone finally pointed me towards the central German anime site. And while I think I had seen a couple of people publishing their own stories online and had written one or two myself, I hadn’t realized before that the concept of fanfic was a whole thing, let alone how much of it there was out there.

I also didn’t know yet that you could properly ship things that aren’t canon. Back then, I thought Yamto and Sora were really cute together (probably I mostly thought Yamato was the coolest person ever and was using Sora to heavily project onto), and apparently so did other people, because I easily found and read quite a few stories about them.

Now what you have to remember is that tags or any kind of useful sorting system just wasn’t a thing back then, which is how I ended up with a sliiightly different story, but I didn’t know that yet.

The fic was labeled with all kinds of warning – but I had absolutely no idea what any of those words meant. I’d only just discovered that Taichi and Yamato were Tai and Matt’s Japanese/actual names and just figured “Taito” and “Yamachi” were other (nick)names for them, and since it was popular to just throw random Japanese words into your fic at the time, and half of the time people didn't even use them right, I didn’t bother to look up what “Shounen-Ai” and “Yaoi” meant.

So I had no idea what I was getting into when I started reading, and after a couple of chapters I might have found it a bit weird that Sora was so little in it, but apparently I’ve also always enjoyed a good slow-burn, so I kept on reading. I don’t even remember when I realized that there was something going on between Yamato and Taichi, but I do remember that I was fascinated, and that I couldn’t stop reading, especially once it became obvious/something actually happened between them.  

(Why do I care so much about queer people, says queer person years before she figures out she’s queer herself, etc.)

Anyways, the story was long (and my internet time limited), so it took days, if not weeks of surreal summer evenings until I was done, but I read the whole thing.

And for whatever reason… I took this as my sign to start shipping Daisuke and Ken (and a variety of DBZ characters). XD

I’ve absolutely no idea why that was what I took away from the whole thing, it’s not even that I disliked the ship (yet), I always kind of understood why people were shipping them, maybe it was simply because Digimon 02 was much more present in my mind than the first season at the time?

But then I started looking for Daisuke/Ken stories (again, without a lot of help from the websites themselves), and it was an absolute nightmare.

You simply couldn’t find anything that didn’t have Yamato/Taichi as the main ship instead, that didn’t feature them as the reason Daisuke and Ken were figuring themselves out, or didn’t have them as the “older, wiser” couple at least one of them went to for advice, and I was steadily growing more and more annoyed by them.

And it was like this for years. I think it got even worse (Adventure, and thus Yamato/Taichi, has always been more popular than any of the 02 characters, and even more so after they lost their momentum).

They just were everywhere, in every goddamn fic, no matter what other pairing you were actually looking for. I was once reading some football RPS, and when the guys in that story were listening to the radio, the host mentioned someone had called in and asked to play the previous song, from Yamato to Taichi (or the other way round) – you can’t even make that shit up.

At this point they just annoyed me so much that I made a point of not shipping them, and I think I’d also reached a point where I was a bit tired of the whole “they’re rivals/always beating each other up, so they obviously are in love” trope.

I also discovered Taichi/Koushiro (which I still think is an amazing ship that at least the German fandom has always been completely sleeping on), so I had even more reason to not ship Yamato/Taichi.

And I honestly think it would always have been this way, but then tri. happened. And hit me with full force. Because they were older, and somewhat calmer/less aggressive around each other, but still very much themselves, and most of all so blatantly obvious.

I was still in denial during most of part 1, but I already knew when Mimi shoved them into a Ferris wheel cabin and declared the group had brought them together that I was fighting a losing battle, and by part 2 with the entire onsen visit and the bickering afterwards, it was over.

Look. I get it. They’re really it. They work so well together, there’s so much there, they’re the blueprint for so many anime ships, they give me way too many feelings. (Help.)

I still don’t really ship them pre!tri., though. Partly probably because of my history with the ship, but also because I like their dynamic so much better now, and because I simply like the idea of people getting together later in life, or at the very least after they’ve at least finished high school.

TL;DR: I never, ever thought I’d fall into Taito hell, and yet here I am, in the year 2k24, absolutely obsessed with them once again. Thank you, Digimon, you’re the gift that keeps on giving.

[nobodysdaydreams]

📢HEY @sophieswundergarten AND EVERYONE ELSE ON THIS WEBSITE. GET OVER HERE AND LISTEN UP BECAUSE I'M STANDING UP ON THE ROOF OF YOUR HOUSE, AND I'M AGGRESSIVELY LAUNCHING FIC RECS AT YOU LIKE A GUY WITH A T-SHIRT CANNON AT A HOCKEY GAME!

Here's what prompted this fit of rage for everybody that wants the tea 🫖:

@sophieswundergarten wanted me to send in some asks for fic recommendations. Cool right?

WRONG!

Because I gave her the option for four different types of fic recs, and told her she could choose whichever ones she was comfortable with, and she chose to answer three out of the four asks I sent her.

Seems reasonable right?

No. THINK AGAIN!

Because the only one she DIDN'T answer was the one about her OWN FICS which are FANTASTIC and in doing so, she is INTENTIONALLY depriving MULTIPLE FANDOMS of her BRILLIANT writing.

But fear not my friends. This challenge will not go unanswered.

Some of you may know that Sophie made a call out post to praise my writing many years ago. She probably thought she could do it without any kind of response too. Big mistake, buddy. The ADHD might lead me to procrastinate, but I always get there eventually! Sometimes. God willing.

But certainly today, because I cannot and will not allow this injustice to go unanswered. Certainly not when I've had this much sugar and am in the mood to procrastinate on my own writing! (but we don't gotta talk about that)

So let's start out with her Wolf359 fics, because if you are sick and tired of Lovelace's crew not getting enough love, then you need to go read these fics right now! Not only are they all titled after canon space survival tips from Pryce and Carter (yes, Sophie looked them up, she went the extra mile), but they are brilliant, amazing, and make me wish we got to see more of each and every one of these characters!

We got Sam Lambert and Isabel Lovelace.

We got Victorie Fourier and Kuan Hui

We got Fourier and Hui again

and we also got a fic of Renee Minkowski and Miranda Pryce that SOPHIE attempted to BAN me from reading for the longest time and the proof is in the tags! (I simply hadn't finished the podcast yet and she was warning me of spoilers).

Then we got her TMBS fics, and the worst part is I cannot even TALK about all her tmbs fics because Sophie has written THIRTY FOUR OF THEM. That's right THIRTY FOUR. At this point, she might as well be called Sophie the librarian, because she could just open up her own tmbs library. You want to see these kids in angsty situations? She's got tons of it, especially for Reynie and Sticky. My favorites are Dr. W Dex (Sticky angst, she has a lot of that), Testing the Truth (Kate angst), Sparks (Reynie angst, she has a lot of that too), and Families of Choice (Constance angst).

But she's got angst about the executives too: Innocent or not, you're not a bet I care to take, was a gift fic for me that is FANTASTIC and Out Cold is great if you wanna scream about SQ being left on an island.

Pretty much, if you want angst for any character, Sophie has it, but that's not all she has on her AO3, oh no. Worried these tmbs fics are too angsty? Don't worry, there's also this one about a chicken: Her Imperial Highness the Empress of All Fowl. 🐔

And HOW can we talk about fic without talking about I don't wanna know I'm not capable, the best OCD representation of all time? We can't. Because it's the best OCD representation of all time. Go read it right now!

There's also this one with cute fluff about the kids: Firefly Nights, and this one where Reynie nearly dies in a snow storm: An Averagely Cold Winter Storm, and this one, where Sticky gets amnesia: Swept Away, and this one where we find out what happens to Jackson and Jillson in the show: The Door Is Open (Except when you're in jail).

I'm throwing these at you like grenades! They're flying through your windows!

AND THIS ONE! Oh my goodness how could I forget about this? THIS ONE RIGHT HERE. IT HAS MY FAVORITE THINGS. Sibling angst? Check. Dramatic irony? Check. Nathaniel being a villainous theater kid and calling his brother's house just to leave fake threatening voicemails? Check: After the Beep 

SO GO AND READ THESE NOW, BECAUSE IF SOPHIE IS NOT GONNA HYPE HERSELF UP THEN BY GOLLY, I WILL.

(in all seriousness, I love your writing. Have a nice evening my friend).

[veryace-ficrecs]

Danny phantom Fic Recs

This list will include all ratings and tags, so read at your own discretion! :)

Ecto Upgrade Start by GothMoth - Rated G

Danny’s growing up and his bodies doing the typical adultifying things, but also doing some… not so typical adutlifying things.

Deep Sea Diver by Marsalias - Rated G

Tumblr prompt by dannyphantom-rework: Ghost zone is like the ocean, in the sense that the deeper you go into it, the scarier and darker it becomes.

Electricity by DarkNymfa - Rated G

Tucker huffed, disgruntled. “Yeah, uh huh. I’ll believe that when you stop having live electricity running down your arms.” “Technically,” Danny said, lips twitching into a smirk, “it’s dead electricity.”

when the kingdom comes calling by blueh - Rated T

The Observant hardly looks rattled at the threat. If anything, the thing seems even more determined to get Danny to go through with this absolute bullshit plan to make him, someone who is half human, king of the ghosts. “Follow me to the Infinite Realms for your coronation. You are under obligation to meet the council at Pariah’s Keep where you shall receive the Crown of Fire and the Ring of Rage. It is what the council wishes.” “No,” Danny snaps. “I have an English test next period with Mr. Lancer.” “This is no time for your silly human games—" Danny slams the locker in its eye. also known as: the Ghost Zone population assumes that Phantom took the crown with dignity. What they don’t know is fifteen year old Danny Fenton just wants to graduate high school, is constantly ready to throw hands with an army of eyeballs, and absolutely will not be crowned the Ghost King without a fight.

Drizzling by TakingOverMidnight3482 - Rated G

There was a peace to the rain, Danny had found. A sense of quiet, where no one attacked. No one ventured out to cause trouble. Where the Earth, for one second, was being healed and healing those around it.

Shift by Alexa_Piper - Rated T

It turns out that the views of Agents O and K are not held by the rest of the Guys in White… which they discover when they bring in a fourteen-year-old half-ghost kid for "painful experiments".

Smells Like Team Spirit by UnluckyAlis - Rated G

Some mascots are great at pumping up a crowd. As Casper High's mascot, Danny has only one job: strike fear into the hearts of their opponents. This is the story of how Danny becomes the famed Mascot of Fear.

Of Tweets and Twats by DarkNymfa - Rated T

Too Fine @BurgersKing @nasafan your parents don’t have a website for Fentonworks? | 🌟✨⭐ @nasafan have you met my parents? | Too Fine @BurgersKing fair point I will cease speaking

Stargazer by Mysterious_Prophetess - Rated G

Inspired by this tumblr post by floralflowerpower where Danny is a NASA astronaut, and famous too, but in order to join NASA he had to change his name to distance himself from his....less well regarded Parents and Sister. Years later, when his real name Fenton is pulled from its grave, Danny refuses to disavow his parents' line of work.

Ancient Alexandria: Not-So-Ancient Apparently by piece_of_pierce - Rated T

Danny has a new homework assignment. Specifically, he's supposed to theorize about the ectobiology of ghosts then make a presentation about it. Who needs to theorize, though? He has access to all the research in the Zone! Now, where can he actually access that research?

Bet on it by thatgirl_youknowtheone - Rated T

Danny's parents find out about Wes' theories, as Maddie and Walter talk it out in the principal's office, Danny and Wes are stuck in the hallway listening. "Your son might think it's just some funny joke, but I will not have anyone accusing my son of being that lying, manipulative, piece of ectoplasmic scum!" Danny sank lower in his chair, face tightening with every word. "You know they wouldn't say that stuff if they knew the truth." said Wes.

Make the Call by Library_of_Cronos - Rated T

The five times CPS was almost called on the Fentons and the one time Jazz called them herself.

Poor Life Choice by princessFanona - Rated G

A situation where Danny dies (not the portal accident) in a public setting and everyone freaks the heck out, but then he gets up as if nothing happened. (PR339) Danny happens to be in the wrong place at the wrong time...or maybe not. Depends on how you look at it.

Ringback by kelpeigh (chitaqua) - Not Rated

“I think we’re on hold.” a soft voice hedges. Four hoods twist as the group looks to their youngest member. She continues, “This is just a ringback tone. Don’t you have one, Steph— uh, Shadowlux?” “You’re right.” The cloaked man next to her answers. “We’re totally on hold.” - A summoning au where Danny can only be summoned as Phantom, and anyone who tries when he's human has to wait until he happens to go ghost again.

Is This Just A Thing that Girls Do? by newdog14 - Rated T

“Yeah, and about that,” The Ghost King said, pinching the bridge of nose in frustration. “You found an archaic book of magic with a summoning spell for the Ghost King, who you believed to be evil, and then you used said spell to bring me here and bind me to answer questions, and you did this so you could ask me about a middle schooler’s crush?” “We also want to know what the secret of life is,” Cori said, crossing her arms defensively. “42,” he answered without hesitation.

Growing Pains by ayjayar - Rated G

Jazz has had the world's nastiest case of pink eye. The doctor is starting to suspect it's not actually pink eye. When Danny notices her eyes glowing, the Fentons seek second opinions from unlikely sources.

after school summons by blueh - Rated T

"So this is the fabled Ghost King," the man says like he expected better. Danny feels he should almost be offended if it isn't for the tiny detail that these cultists—who summoned him by using salt and goat bones—assume he is the ghost king. "…Did you seriously confuse me with Pariah Dark?" The man pauses. "Pariah Dark?" "Yes! He's like fifteen feet tall, has a huge sword, is a pain in the ass, and has, like, an entire ghost army. I have, I dunno, pre-calc homework in my bag. We are not the same." Or: Danny accidentally gets summoned. He’s not happy about it.

The Tattooed Defeat by Sergeant_Tears - Rated T

Ghosts get tattoos whenever they defeat a new enemy. Danny surprisingly never got these. Until he did... but not as Phantom.

inviso-doodles by attu - Rated T

What are friends for if not making you internet famous?

Animals by Marsalias - Rated T

Most humans of Amity Park did not appreciate what Danny did for them. (The animals were another story.)

Side Effects by redrobin1989 - Rated T

Side effects of activating a ghost portal to another dimension while inside include: fatigue, nausea, vomiting, headache, tremors, hypothermia, loss of visibility and tangibility and ectoplasmic glowing. If left untreated, these symptoms may lead to death or permanent physiologic changes.

Proof of Identity by Clari_net23 - Rated G

Detective Harris just wants to find out who the ghost boy is.

"'Doctor, I'm a ghost. There's a reason I'm doing this in a morgue and not a regular clinic.'"

'Touche.'

Detective Harris felt the beginnings of a headache in her temple. All she wanted from this was his identity. She didn’t think it would be this much of a challenge when the chief brought up this assignment. "

[fitbuturlosingit]

My Fave Fanfic Authors.

I just wanted to do a shoutout post, for my fave fanfic authors. I am a sucker for a good fanfic, and these guys do it better than anyone else, in my humble opinion.

First up, we have my queen @negans-lucille-tblr (AKA Bee). Bee is undoubtedly my favourite writer. I’ve followed her work for a long time, through various different blogs, and for various different fandoms. Her Supernatural fics drew me in, then I fell in love with her Walking Dead and The Boys fics. I currently subscribe to her website, cos it has loads of cool members only stuff, and she writes a banging commission. (She will bounce ideas off you, and makes sure you’re always satisfied with the work). She’s also an absolute angel of a human being, and I’ve had some lovely conversations with her! ❤️

Next up, we have @kittenofdoomage who writes hands down, some of the best A/B/O dynamic fics I have ever read. I’m pretty sure her writing was my first proper discovery of A/B/O, and honestly, she blew my mind. If you like Supernatural, or the Walking Dead, then she should be top of your list. Pretty sure she also introduced me to some new kinks I never knew I had, haha!

Keeping with my Supernatural theme, I’m also going to recommend @pink-sparkly-witch ☺️ If like me you love Dean Winchester, and Jensen Ackles, then this is the blog for you. Her fics are incredible. She writes Jensen and Dean so well, it’s phenomenal. The way she writes paints such a vivid picture. I’m glad that I found her blog through other Supernatural themed blogs.

Moving on to my other obsessions now - The 1975. I’ve got a few authors that I follow, who write amazing 1975 fanfics.

First being @procrastinatinglikeapro who is very friendly, and answers any asks you send towards them. They’ve made me feel very welcome in this fandom, as it’s one of my newer fandoms. I love her writing style. I love how easy her master list is to navigate, she has a little key on there, so you know exactly what it is you’re looking for. Her posts are always a pleasure to see on my dash, and I just get all round good vibes from her. So, if you like The 1975, head on over and drop her a follow!

The next 1975 blog on my list is @tillthelandslide who actually follows me. I don’t have many followers so it meant a lot to me when she followed me. I’ve had some lovely interactions with her, which is always nice, especially when you’re new to a fandom like I am. (I’ve been in to The 1975 for just under a year, now). I originally followed her cos I loved her fics. Her fics are the reason I am now obsessed with Ross MacDonald, so thanks for that, girlie! Made For Me is such a good fic, and I bloody love it. Ross girlies, go read it! Again, her masterlist is easy to navigate, which I love. So yeah, go follow her!

We have the legend that is @lottiecrabie who is responsible for some of the classic 1975 fics. Fics like Don’t Fuck the Linecooks, and Choose Your Own Smut. I loved the innovation of Choose Your Own Smut. Very original idea, well executed. It was the first fic I’d read of hers, and I was HOOKED. Girl can write, hot damn. She’s definitely helped me become totally obsessed with the 1975, and now when I look at Matty pics I think “oooh this is PFMS coded”, or “this is so Linecook Matty”. It’s becoming a problem, haha!

@abiiors is another 1975 legend. Her masterlist is huge. So many incredible fics, so much talent. She’s responsible for me becoming obsessed with George. I never was a George girlie, but now I am. The “Threes a Party” fic changed my life. It was without doubt the hottest thing I have ever read. I still think about it now. Her posts make her seem like such a lovely person, and I feel like if we met, I’d really vibe with her.

@toomuchracket with the d word Matty posts. My god. I love her fics, and her blurbs. The blurbs are always fun little bits to read, and I find myself frequently looking through her masterlist to re-read my favourites. Again, seems like a genuinely nice person. I really enjoy her fluffy blurbs, as well as her smutty posts. Fluff doesn’t usually tend to appeal to me, but the way she writes it is so much more appealing, and interesting. It’s more realistic, and I do love that about her work.

Finally, @the1975attheirverybest is the blog I go to quite often. I find it very reliable in terms of news/updates so it’s a great way of keeping my finger on the pulse, in the fandom. I’ve had some really positive interactions with this blog. I’m trying to avoid using a gender as I don’t want to unintentionally misgender anyone, and I couldn’t see a clear indication of preferred pronouns, hence why I will refer to the blog as they. They have an extensive masterlist with Series, One Shots, and Concepts. It’s easy to navigate. I’ve read so many of their fanfics, and again, I really enjoy the writing style, and the blog itself, not just the fanfiction element.

Thank you for reading, if you managed to stick around until the end. I know it’s a lot of word vomit, and I’ve tried to keep it coherent, but I’m autistic, so my brain can’t always do that shit.

This post is just a massive love letter to my faves on tumblr, sending out good vibes, and love. You guys keep me sane, you give me a great way to unwind, and spend my time, and you keep me positive. So, thank you so much. Forever grateful for every single one of you.

[vroomvroomsposts]

Here’s a short sneak peek of a sad Carlos fic I started writing after Las Vegas.

It’s called “There it is again (that funny feeling)” the name might change.

It’s a multi chapter fic coming soon to a website (ao3) near you. It’s Carlando and it’s angsty.

Let me know how you guys feel about this and I’ll try to finish the first chapter (it’s almost done) and post it asap. ☺️

He’s standing in the pouring rain.

That’s how Oscar finds him. It had been a few hours since the race, and everything had come to an end. McLaren's race debrief had just ended thirty minutes ago, and everyone was preparing to return to the hotel; some of the crew had already begun disassembling the hospitality and packing it to send it to the next track. Oscar tries to ignore him and go his own way, but something tells him not to, so he walks over to him and shelters him from the rain with his umbrella.

When the rain stops suddenly, Carlos looks up, first at the umbrella, then at Oscar, surprised.

"You know you get sick standing in the rain. We still have one more race to go.” Oscar says, awkwardly smiling.

“Hello, Oscar. Sorry about the race and the crash.”

"It wasn't your fault. We both were on the unlucky side of that Haas car.”

"Hmm," Carlos says with a nod.

"So, what are you doing out here in the rain?"

"How is everything at McLaren? Are they treating you well?" Carlos avoids answering Oscar's question by asking him one of his own.

Something feels off, but Oscar can’t figure out what yet he still answers, “Yeah. They’re good. They are very nice people. I am lucky to drive for them.”

"Good, good. You’re a good kid, Oscar. And a good driver. Don’t let anyone get you down, okay?”

"Thank you," Oscar says, but something is gnawing at the back of his mind. He has a strange feeling that something is going to happen. “Are you okay, Carlos? Were you waiting for Lando?” Oscar gestures vaguely towards the motorhomes, saying, "I think he is still at the motorhome. Do you want me to go get him?”

“No. No. I’ll see him later at the hotel. Is he being a good teammate to you?”

“He is. But I believe you two were the better teammates. You two worked well.”

“Yeah. We did.” Carlos smiles wistfully, lost in some memory.

The rain has finally stopped. Carlos looks at Oscar and steps out from under the umbrella so that Oscar can close it.

“Thanks for the umbrella, Oscar. It has been a pleasure racing alongside you. You are doing fantastic. You will be amazing again next season as well."

“Thank you, and it has been fun racing you too. We’ve still got plenty more races to do.”

Carlos just smiles at him. He looks sombre, as if he found the answer to the thing he was looking for.

“Goodbye, Oscar. Take care of yourself and Lando. He’ll need someone there.”

"You, too. I’ll see you in Abu Dhabi.”

Carlos turns and walks away. Oscar watches him go, and Carlos becomes smaller and smaller as he walks further away. But something Carlos said sticks with him. Lando will need someone there.

Why would Lando need someone there? There where? Or is it there when? Maybe it's nothing. Maybe he meant to have someone in McLaren. He has an odd feeling about this.

Or perhaps Oscar is overthinking something simple.

-

It is not until he boards the plane to Abu Dhabi for the season's final race a week later that the strange feeling becomes clear.

That’s a thing with gut feelings; they will always be answered, whether you want them to or not. It comes unannounced, stays, and stalks you, and then it is answered, and you are left with the answer, unsure of what to do with it. Oh, how Oscar wishes this particular gut feeling wasn’t answered. Especially with this answer.

[bapydemonprincess]

I’m 24 and I’ve been in this fandom since like 2010 . So not the entire time it’s been around but I was here for its main surge I feel like. And I won’t lie, when I was 10 and a majority of the fandom did ship sebaciel publicly and people made you feel weird for not shipping it, I definitely did engage with it. It was pushed on me as a 10 year old by a majority of the fandom, and I didn’t see anything wrong because I was younger than ciel/same age and I was like “yeah I think Sebastian is cute and I’m the same age as ciel so—“ BUT you know as I got older I’d say even by 14 I had the realization of how gross it was and how I didn’t actually ship it it was just that they were the two main characters in the fandom and that typically main characters are the ones who get shipped and that at that time in the fandom it was impossible to not be faced with ship stuff. And I was groomed by adults in the fandom on this very website. They knew my age and would send me smut and talk to me about myself and flirt and I honestly feel bad that I ever did engage with the ship. I didn’t know any better. But now as an adult when I do see sebaciel stuff I find myself questioning if they’re just young and if they’re going to grow out of it too and I wonder if maybe they’re also having it pushed on them by older fans like I was. I find it concerning because i know what it did to myself and what kind of situations I was put in because of it. I try to avoid the adult ones because unfortunately I think if they haven’t grown out of it and realized the implications of the ship and how it does affect real life I don’t know that they ever will. I hate that this fandom has such a bad label on it. Every person I mention it to is like— “oh the pedophile demon anime?” And it just sickens me. Idk this is kind of just a rant and I wanted to offer my thoughts as someone who has been in the fandom a long time and as someone who was in the fandom as a child even. I’m sorry if this is weird ask to send but I see you posting content about it sometimes and it made me feel safe to share my thoughts

Well I am not personally good at answering these types of asks but I am glad you felt safe to send this to me, specifically, and get it off your chest, it's all good!! 💖 And glad to know you came to realize how bad the ship was at one point, I'm always happy to see that happen once in a while in kuro, because there are so many folks around my age refusing to accept the truth and doubling down on proshipping, and also I notice very recently too trying to cause problems on purpose for antis in their spaces. 😒 It's getting hard out there since the new anime came out, and a lot of those types have attempted to return.. likely from twitter where they ran off to last time they were booted (some quite literally banned hmm I wonder why) from tumblr.

And the worst WORST part knowing proshippers around my age is knowing.. remembering.. the very beginnings of kuro, seeing the early fics on ao3 by those guys, who really started it all, knowing somewhere they're still out there.. some even maybe with kids of their own WHO KNOWS... Ugh.

And I hope new fans, no matter their age really, make sure to be careful esp on here in the main kuro tag, for these proshippers have been constantly- AND VERY BLATANTLY I MIGHT ADD -trying to advertise their blogs and discords as safe spaces for interacting... CLEARLY trying to start/continue the process of grooming that is so well known in fandoms like kuro at this point.

Overall just use block on tumblr recreationally, it's free real estate ✨, stay safe in general, and again don't be afraid whether on fellow anti blogs like mine send messages or if you feel more comfortable make posts of your own on your own blog expressing how you feel, getting it out of your system.

Hope my response was okay (I say because I'm at work at also health-wise a bit out of it so sorry grbhjfkugu) and hope you, anon are currently doing okay now!! Thank you again for sharing your personal experience!!