#just throw it on the doc for memories

[gilliontidestriderchampionoftheu]

so, to recap:

-the navy has, in fact, killed leviathans. that wasnt just something jayson said to fuck with gillion.

-artificial leviathans are made of Goop and metal, speak primordial, and take orders from the navy

-admiral ferin knew the hole in the sea was going to happen, because the "solar mother" warned her

-she is also aware the black sea will spread one day, and claims to be ready for it

-there are "black ops" that serve the navy, which are essentially clones of people, that have replaced multiple people and are living as them

-the navy is in possession of a machine that can alter a persons mind state and "push them to be a more obedient soldier

-kuba kenta is imprisoned here

-kuba kenta looks slightly different, "the reincarnation isnt perfect"

-there are four symbols in the bastion: an anchor, a pair of wings, two golden eyes, and a sun

-and, most strangely: someone was here recently

[ru5t]

@lcfthaunted //> requested.

  He's left their guest no further than just inside the door: the office directly off of the entryway at the front of the building. Di hovers near the office door, the image of her standing guard puts a strange chill in his stomach. It lingers as he puts himself to his task, going through whatever's left in the catchall - they'll need to go trading again, soon. That task sorts itself into the ever-growing list of things he has to do in the next week while his searching goes on autopilot and Jack wonders if this woman from the center of the city sees an ally or a threat in the young ex-drac standing at attention in the mouth of the warehouse. Honestly, he's not sure what he sees, there. Only that he knows the office is the best place for her for now. Too much that is precious resides in the units to play loose with strangers, and too many of his crew are too nosy for their own good to let them go stampeding in to peer and poke and probably insult. ... He allows himself a deep sigh, a soft curse aimed at the empty air over his head, then he gathers what he came for and returns to the entry. Jack dismisses Di with a casual nod over his shoulder, get outta here, and she scowls at him, but sets off for the garden anyway. She'll be back.

  He gives a light knock before pushing through the office door, announcing himself.

  The office was a nightmare when they first began settling into the haven, full of dust and who knew what else. Since then, they'd pulled up the carpet entirely, and someone -best guess said Dawn and Lith, though jack didn't know for sure- had painted a mural in its place. Bright orange and purple wildflowers in a sea of scrub grass, like what bloomed in the ridges to the north. The shelves had been pushed into a neat configuration, some covering the widows like blinds to cut the heat, and that old couch Weasel had rolled up with weeks ago finally had a place that wasn't the middle of the entryway. Even the old business counter was painted, and a few battery operated lights sat waiting there for nightfall like end table lamps. The result was a strange, colorful thing, but nice as far as ruins this far out into the desert went.

  Jack lays the bundle of clothes he'd gone digging for on the old counter. It's mostly out layers, any jackets he could find, and shirts that could go overtop of something thin and almost sheer that is decidedly not designed for the desert-- though a few genuine articles are in the mix as well. Anything he thought might fit, though he expects she's not likely to go trading anything out. Not right away. Thus, the jackets. It's always easier to borrow a jacket than lose whatever you've got, at first.

  “You'll burn if you don't cover,” he advises, and that's all he says of the state of her. But he keeps looking. Brow lightly furrowed, something reluctant stuck in the back of his teeth. He crosses his arms and leans against the counter. “I can't get you back through the wall.” Blunt, in terms of opening, but it's important there are no illusions. He can't, and his sister doesn't deal in smuggling people, and he won't suggest she start (or even bring her smuggling up at all. Not until she gets back and decides on that for herself - if this was still the situation when she did get back.) So as far as he's concerned, it's impossible. “You can stay here,” a nod at the couch, “or if you'd rather take your chances, I'm riding back to three tomorrow. There are neutral settlements, there, and maybe someone who can do what I can't. But I expect y- .. the crew from the market will be watching for that. Watching for you. I'd give it time.”

[writers-potion]

Writing Mad Characters

Okay this is a bit awkward because I had this question copypasted into Google Docs I use to draft my answers, and I realized I've lost the question in my inbox (which is being flooded).

So...I'm so sorry for whoever asked this question. Sorry for the delay because I was struggling with life in general for the past month and definitely SORRY for losing your question (－‸ლ)

Q: I'm writing a story where a major character is slowly spiraling into madness where small details kinda hint into the downfall right before the bigger details appear and then it the floodgates open. Is there anything I should avoid? Anything that I should keep in mind? Anything that I should research?

Things to Avoid

“Mad” or “Insane” is too general. Writing a cliched ‘crazy’ character who randomly talks to imaginary people and lashes out at strangers, you’ll offend a whole bunch of people who've gone through/have mental illnesses. Read up on existing mental conditions (schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, post-traumatic disorder and borderline personality disorder, etc.) to see what your character might have. 

Words like “mad” “crazy” or “insane” aren’t enough when you’re describing their status. As mentioned, these words hardly mean much when it comes to providing a clear description.

Contradicting yourself. Throwing random unhinged symptoms here and there wouldn’t work. In fact, you must have a clear arc on which they’re traveling and ensure that your “hints” are all getting at something.

Making the character overly destructive or harmful to others (when nothing really justifies it)

Justifying damaging behavior with this “madness”. Mad or not, your character will still have motives and goals that drive them forward. 

Making them look incompetent just the fact that they have a mental condition that makes them appear “mad” to others shouldn’t prevent them from achieving success. In fact, they may be even more cool-hearted and logical when it comes to their obsessions/goals. 

Research Tips

Narrow down the mental conditions your character experiences. Even if it’s a fictional condition, try basing it on existing ones and building on top of them. 

Take some time to study characters and/or real clinical cases that resemble the kind of madness you’re going for. 

- Anxiety Disorders: excessive fear and dread (ex. phobias) - Mood Disorders: persistent swings in mood or persistent feelings that interfere with daily life (ex. Depression, bipolar) - Psychotic Disorders: disordered thinking (ex. schizophrenia) - Eating Disorders: extreme emotional attitudes toward food (ex. Bulimia, anorexia) - Impulse Disorders: unable to resist urges (ex. Kleptomania, pyromania, gambling) - Personality Disorders: extreme inflexible personality traits (ex. Anti-social disorder, OCPD) - Past Traumatic Stress: persistent, frightening memories leading to emotional numbness 

Does your character have empathy?  

A sociopathic kind of madness is different. 

General Writing Tips for Spiraling into Madness

Establish a Baseline 

A lot of factors (stress, family history, innate personality, trauma, etc.) can contribute to madness, but it is not going to happen in a week. Define the existing mental and physical conditions your character has, and start from there. 

If you’re aiming for suicidal tendencies at the end, you want to start with symptoms of depression (a condition that may lead to suicide) - growing apathetic, erratic sleeping patterns, irritability, etc. 

This is also the stage where you want to plant some triggers that’ll go off later.

Trigger Events

A perfectly sound character suddenly spiraling down the madness route due to a single accident or traumatizing event isn’t convincing. 

A madness “snap” denies the reader the experience of watching the character’s journey into madness and how they feel about it. 

Internal Conflict (antagonist in himself) 

You must remember that madness is incurable. If someone could “cure” themselves by eating healthy, exercising and taking a few pills, it wouldn’t be much of a madness, would it? This means that the worst antagonist is going to be the character themselves, or the part of them that’s been taken away. 

Show how they are frustrated with themselves, scared of themselves, angry at their “alternative self”. The experience of not knowing yourself is a whole journey of its own.

Physical Manifestations/Quirks

If your character has a routine, show how they break down. 

They might develop habits that they otherwise would never allow themselves to have, perhaps as an effort to “keep this madness out”

Deteriorating Relationships

Depict how the character’s madness impacts his closed/loved ones. In the earlier stages, those close to him might be faster to notice and accept the signs of madness, even if the character denies it him/herself.

The first signs of madness might show when the character is trying to deal with difficult relationships - like losing patience and being unable to pick up subtle social clues.

Choosing Obsessions Over Primal Urges 

For these characters, obsession can take over a person’s normal urge to eat, sleep or even live. This can lead to, more or less, suicide. 

Example: In Black Swan, Nina’s obsession with becoming the perfect ballerina drive her to insanity, to the point where she doesn't mind dying on stage for the show.

[whencartoonsruletheworld]

*bitch literally not only used clips but edited them so that it looked like he got them from somewhere else like oh my god

** toddintheshadows literally came in swinging with "so you wanna tell us how you came under the impression that the nazis were gay"

[that-student-that-has-homework]

Pretty Girl - Portgas D. Ace

I read this lovely little snippet by @mrsoharaa and felt the need to know what would happen next. Written with permission!

Check out my MasterList for more of my writing!

To be fair, Marco actually wasn’t teasing him this time. He’d been nose deep in a book and was just as deep in his thoughts when he’d made the request.

“Hey Ace, can you go and call” the first division commander squinted at the book, trying to recall the words but was clearly too distracted to, “can you call-we-what was-just call your pretty girl for me yoi?”

He wasn’t teasing him this time. 

Ace had just simply had enough.

//—----------

It had started in the morning? maybe afternoon? who knows what time it was…after some good old fashion pirate revelry until who knows what hour of the evening.

He’d woken up in some weird kinda angle on some random corner of the ship, with a bit of a headache. So like any other day, he made his way over to the kitchen to get some food to fix his problem. After all, if his head hurt, he probably just needed some food, right?

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the slick Second Division Commander of the Whitebeard Pirates,” the Division Commander in question blinked at his Fourth Division counterpart, his lips pulling up at the strange greeting.

What’d he mean by slick though? Just thinking about it made his head squeeze, so he decided to push it off until he had some food in his system.

“Thatch, I’m hungry,” he declared as he slumped himself on the kitchen counter, throwing his bottom half on a stool there, “gimme somethin’ to eat.”

“Comin’ right up,” the cook shot him an amused grin as he went about grabbing his disgruntled younger brother-in-arms some food.

“Hungover?” The question came from Ace’s side, where the head doctor sat, sipping on a cup of…well it wasn’t alcohol.

“Huh?” The younger man just blinked, trying to get the fog out of his brain. “Nah.” He rolled onto his side to better face his older brother. “Just got a headache.”

“Sounds like a hangover to me yoi,” the doc grinned over the rim of his mug.

Ace didn’t pay him much mind though, waiting for his food to arrive.

Though his silence seemed to encourage his companion, “especially with how much you drank last night.”

“Wasn’t that much,” he ruffled his hair in hopes to alleviate some of the pounding in his head.

“It was enough that you called a certain someone ‘pretty girl.’”

A moment of silence passed as Ace continued to aggressively knead at his scalp. His mind very sluggishly processing Marco’s words…he was just about to fall asleep again with how much his he-

HE DID WHAT?!

That blew all the fog and grog out of Ace’s brain and body, as he all but sprung to his feet in shock. The medic in front of him offered him little more than his usual lazy, lopsided grin.

The vertigo hit him right as the adrenaline wore off, and he was clutching to the counter to save himself from smacking into the ground. His grip only tightened as he heard footsteps from the other side of the counter rejoin them.

“Yo Ace, I fixed you a plate for your pretty girl too,” he chirped sliding over two plates, “if you wanted to go and deliver it to her.”

It had been a while since Pops had clobbered him, but the memory of his audacious, disastrous, flirty remark hit him much like one of Pops’ fists did. Of all things, he only came up with pretty girl? 

He-just-urgh-just-just where was his hat when he needed it? He resorted to using his hands to hide his face from the other two commanders. He didn’t need to see them to know they were grinning - they were just oozing with entertainment.

“Ah don’t worry slick,” he could hear Thatch’s voice getting closer, “I’d say she took it well enough.”

The way the cook only barely got his sentence out before he and Marco broke out into snickers said otherwise. Ace grabbed his plate of food and moved to find a different corner of the massive galleon to eat in.

For the next few days, the different commanders would wink, snicker, smirk, borderline leer at him whenever you were in his general vicinity. They weren’t subtle about it, given pirates were generally as subtle as a sea king on land. They didn’t have to say it out loud for him to hear it though: 

“Pretty girl.” 

The behavior spread to the rest of the crew like wildfire. He’d have compared the spread to some nasty disease, but those usually knocked people out. Unfortunately this one seemed to rile them up, everyone seemed overly eager to be able to poke at him for his drunken declaration. By the end of the week, even the swabbies were in on it. They weren’t as bad as the commanders, but…ugh. Just…anyhow you’d think that, after a week, it would become old news, but no. 

Nope. 

Not this news. 

Seems everyone on this damn ship was a gossip. Grown ass grizzled pirates, reduced to giggling gossiping gaggles of gremlins. The Second Division Commander couldn’t go for more than a few hours without hearing some kinda comment, or getting some kinda look. 

Even pops was in on it now! 

He’d found out when the old man had grinned at him, what was worse was that it was a good-natured grin. He wasn’t teasing him…but what he said to him, as a kind of encouragement, had left this poor son of Whitebeard feeling more flustered than ever.

Unfortunately all his attempts at getting the crew to cut it out were falling on deaf ears. His fellow commanders in particular had no problem ignoring his requests and continuing to tease him, which of course emboldened the rest of the crew. 

Of course the worst part had to be…well, there was no way you didn’t know about what was happening. After all, you always put on an unbothered face, but he knew it had to be making you uncomfortable. After all it wasn’t like he’d ever followed up on that pretty girl comment while sober. Though he wouldn’t deny the little amused simpers that you’d put on whenever your fellow crew mates would leer at him had his heart doing little flips.

Anyway…

Things had finally died down a bit, with Ace getting some peace of mind. People had finally gotten bored. Meaning he could probably try…y’know…approaching you while sober…

Well they’d mostly died down…

//—--

“SHE IS PRETTY ALRIGHT?!” Yeah he’d had enough. “Do none of y'all have eyes?!” He raged on, over a week’s worth of agitation erupting from him violently. 

“So what if I called her pretty girl?” There was a kind of catharsis in seeing the First Division Commander staring at him bug-eyed. “It wasn't a lie!” He threw his hands up in agitation. “That's for sure.”

“Uh A-”

“Like you all don't state the obvious sometimes!” He pointed an accusatory finger at everyone who was in the infirmary…which wasn’t much, but Thatch hadn’t left yet and he was one of the guys that teased him the most!

“A-”

“And!” He was burning up the whole place and there was no stopping him. “I never said she was my pretty girl! I just said she was a pretty girl!” Little flickers of fire left his shoulders. “And she definitely is pretty!” He flexed his fingers. “Gorgeous, beautiful, pretty, all the words that mean that!”

The Second Division Commander’s chest and shoulders heaved from the way he was panting after his rant. Man it felt good to get it off his chest.

He shook his head, getting the remaining frustration out before rolling his shoulders out. He felt a whole lot better. He stretched his neck, before turning to look at his stunned fellow commanders.

“Hey Thatch, I’m hungry,” he grinned, “can you make me something to eat? Or should I just go raid the fridge?”

That seemed to snap the cook out of it, “keep yourself out of my fridge and out of my kitchen hotshot!”

“Uh…Ace,” the fiery man turned to look at the medic that had sparked this outburst.

“Oh Marco, what did you need again?” He’d asked him to do something before mentioning you.

“It’s no problem yoi,” strange, the doctor seemed to be looking behind him.

Was there someone behind him? The young commander turned around - 

Shoot.

He hadn’t said anything negative! But dang what he said sure as hell was damning. He must sound like a total creep. Just going on and on about how pretty he thinks you are. Could someone just launch him into the sea?

It didn’t help that the most unrelenting of the division commanders were here to see this horrifying display. They weren’t ever going to let him live this dow-

“You think I’m pretty?” You asked, hope pulling your lips up tentatively. “Even while sober?”

Ace managed to nod at that.

Gosh he felt stupid. This wasn’t how he wanted to do it. Why was he so trash at trying to compliment you?

“Well I think you’re pretty too,” you gave him a good-natured smile, “so there, we’re even.”

“Really?” Gah! Why was that the first thing out of his mouth?

Oh gosh it was so cute the way you fiddled with your fingers. You only ever did that when you were nervous-you only ever did that when you were nervous.

“I mean,” you grinned, “haven’t you ever looked in a mirror Ace?”

Ace was sure he’d turned his face to fire at that point. He was here fumbling over his feet like a baby dear, and you were so smooth, you might as well be polishing the deck with wax.

“Um, in case that wasn’t clear,” you continued, “yes, really Ace, you’re pretty.”

Thatch let out a low whistle then, “well would you look at that,” he grinned, “a pretty boy for a pretty girl.”

“Stop teasing him Thatch,” you sighed, shooting the cook a look, “you’ve all teased him more than enough already.”

“Yo,” the longtime resident of the infirmary called out to you, “I was actually going to send Ace to find you yoi.”

“Oh did you need something Marco?” You walked further into the room, passing by the stunned pretty boy.

“Were you busy today yoi?”

“Not really, why? Did you need help?”

You thought he was pretty too? 

Would you consider, maybe, going out on a date? He couldn’t help but stare at you as you continued to talk with his First Division Counterpart. He wasn’t about to ask you here, in front of these jerks, but maybe later…

Maybe later…

When you were sitting on the bow looking up at the stars that dotted the night sky. He’d ask you. 

And you’d say yes.

[imwetforyourmom]

JUST FINE.

CW: Unrequited love, unresolved angst, crying, swearing, cheating in a way if you think about it, yelling

SUMMARY: When you’re the only thing Chris has ever wanted, and ever will, but, when you dont see him that way, and probably wont ever, how will he take it? Or, you’ve stood the poor boy up on a date, hoping he’d get the hint.

A/N: Doc give it to me straight, did I fall off?

·˚ ༘

“You didnt have to do that.”

The dark alley way lit you and Derek, the light providing the perfect visionary to Chris’ nightmares. But, oh gosh, how he wished it hadnt. He would’ve given anything to not see your and his actions. It all sending an itch to gag at the back of his throat and tears beginning to take their place along his waterline.

His eyes took in what they could with his consistent wiping of the back of his hands to rid of the shedding tears, trying to see, to acknowledge what you wouldnt do to Chris, what you could never picture doing with Chris.

What wasnt meant to be for Chris. Your hands were never meant to be running along his body, rubbing seductively while your lips pressed against his, your lips teasingly keeping shut, depriving him of a more intimate kiss. But, what more depriving than watching the love of your life do the actions you’d begged for if she’d asked, do to another without hesitation? No holding back seemingly present in your movements, everything raw and unforgiving to chris. Why couldnt that be him?

Why couldnt he be the one pinning you against the brick red wall, why couldnt he be the one you were moaning and inhaling sharply for, the one where your stomach fluttered with butterflies, the one where you planned to live old with? Why couldnt he be ‘the one’?

Why wasnt he meant for your love? Why was fucking derek the one in his place? Out of all people.. Derek. Derek was the one you desired the most, the one you couldnt hold your composure with, the one your heart beat raced with.

Why couldnt it fucking be him?

His body felt heavy with each second he stared, his eyes beginning to puff with each unshed tear, or hard sob being held deep into his throat, making it harder for him to watch your sinful actions.

The flowers he’d especially boughten because they were your favorite, slowly began slipping from his loosened grip. Too distracted with the utter sight of your carefree actions to keep hold of the now useless flowers.

If you’d told him a year ago, he’d be here, watching his unrequited love makeout with another man—after standing him up, he would’ve laughed in your face. Collected his breathing, and looked you into the eyes, with a puzzled expression, “who is my ‘unrequited love’?” even despite the gleam in his eyes that was present just minutes ago, now gone with the forced laughter that escaped his body.

His body would crash on the inside, but his face would stay stoned, eyebrows raised with questionairre and a clenched fist with the grasp of the little tamed composure he had left. He’d act as if he’d no clue whom his unrequited lover was, but, as much as he wish he did, he knew who she was and now the name brought an itch to throw up at the back of his throat.

The mere thought of you would strike his entire being with the pain he thought he’d never experience, but thats what everyone thinks, until it happens, then they’re never the same.

Everyone swears the love they experienced in highschool was one of tragedies, but tragedies to adore, to admire, to wish you’d had.

Its the tragedies that get to your soul, tear you apart and leave you with the thought ‘Will I ever be the same?’ tears lining your eyes and the ghost feeling of being ‘you’ again, whoever that cold, distant memory may be.

Till that special person falls to their knees and mends you back together entirely, their hand a delicate reminder that you’ll always be worth something to them, never differentaiting from the earths grime, to the earths wonders, the northern lights being danced inside your eyes, but even the skies that withold the mesmerizing colors go dark, see the nights light, an uninteresting black, but they still stand colorful again.

All it takes, is that special person.

And Chris wasnt your special person, the one that would hold your face in his palms and whisper soothing praises as you cry about the tragedies currently overtaking your soul and claiming it as its own.

Derek was gonna be that person, at least, for what he hoped, until highschool was over.

A few years later, on that same street, Chris thought he healed, he’d wished he had, but he knew he didnt. Sure, maybe majority of him healed, but deep down, in his gut he knew a part of him would never heal from the possibilites of you and Chris becoming more, becoming everything he’d ever dreamed of.

His mind never left that brick red wall, too tangled with the mingling of your and Dereks bodies, lost in the desperation and confusion of why he couldnt be Derek. What did Derek have that Chris didnt? What was so good about Derek?

But to you, your voice could never end when Derek was mentioned, the nervous beating of your heart when his name was even mentioned, you could go on and on about Derek, seemingly never having an end towardd what was so good about Derek, and when Chris was mentioned, your arms cradled yourself, curling into yourself as the guilt in your stomach filled, replacing the rapid beating of your heart with its rightful pace.

You knew what you did that night, you saw Chris watching you and Derek, but in that moment, you were too caught up with the fire Dereks fingertips danced along your skin, his lips pressing on yours with comfort and need all at the same time.

Everything about Derek was everything you’ve ever described as ‘begging to want’, the love you’ve so desperately latched onto even the second it was offered, with no thought. Too desperate to experience the love you’d crave everynight, cradling yourself in your arms as your mind did the best it could, creating the fake scenarios for love.

Nothing about Chris was in your desires, nothing he seemed to do gave you the same fluttery in your stomach as Derek did. Even when Chris did his best to adopt Dereks mannerisms, try and be a little more like him—he couldnt. That wasnt him, Derek wasnt him. He was Chris, he just needed to accept the fact that he was him.

The sound of small splashes against rain puddles and footsteps broke Chris’s train of thought, his ghost train, to be specific, his better judgement the ambulance just begging to save him.

He looked away from the same spot he witnessed his entire world fall, only to meet your gaze. The same, cheerful gleam in your eyes, warmfilled smile overtaking your features. Everything about you was comforting.

“What’re you doing out here at,”—you pulled your puffed jacket sleeve from your wrist, checking the familar patterned numbers on the watch, comfortably placed on your wrist, before looking back at Chris—“Twelve ‘o clock at night?” You asked, even with the question in your voice, the same bubbly features remained on your face.

Chris looked back at the wall beside the streetlight, licking his lips dryly as he thought of an answer, his mind running laps, desperate for a reason as of why he was here.

His head dropped to look at his feet, his throat closing with the dry sensation.

“Just, y’know, thinking.” He replied, looking back at you, his tongue peeking back out to lick his lips again.

“What about?” Your curiosity overtook your tongue, though, chris expected no less. You were always naturally curious.

“Us,” his eye contact faltered, deciding it’d just be best to stop lying, to stop living his life in his own shadow.

Your eyebrows stitched, your loud smile beginning to fall to a slight frown. “Whats there to think about us, Chris?”

“Everything, Y/n,” he looked away again, his voice faltering between a cracked whisper, to the non-chalant tone he was desperate to keep.

“I cant keep pretending like im happy with ‘us’. I’m not, fuck, I’ve never been happy with how we are. I dont want this.” He shook his head, closing his eyes as he fought the overwhelming emotions slowly taking over his features, the frown enveloping his mouth, the slight crack in his voice each time he spoke and a slow start to the never ending whirlwind of emotions he’s about to speak of, and experience, all over again.

Your eyes ran over his face, slowly understanding everything that he was saying. Your heart fought its own thumps to stay unwounded from his own hurt.

“Chris, I-“ your voice was cut off with his, a seemingly urgence in the way he spoke.

“No. Let me finish.” He shifted on his feet before turning to look at you, taking in a small breath as preperation before continuing.

“I, I was fucking standing there, watching as you and Derek got all- fuckin,” his voice began to break, thinking of the night he witnessed why you stood him up, “all that. Do you know how fucking bad you hurt me that night? Words dont even begin to explain how hurt I was. You were feeling Derek up, while I was fuckin crying in the empty space of my room.” He exasperated, the look in his eyes gave it all away, he still wasnt finished. His mouth was still full of words he wanted to say, but he wanted to let his previous words sink in first.

“Chris, im sorry, I really am—I dont know what I was thinking- I truly am sorry.” You begged, your eyes filled with sympathy and your voice beginning to crack with guilt.

“You can’t say that, Y/n, you’re not sorry. You dont have a right to be sorry, all you had to do, Y/n, all you had to do was go on the date with me. You didnt fucking have to stand me up, you could’ve even shot me a text cancelling the date, but you didnt. You didnt, you left me there to watch. To watch what you weren’t willing to do with me. And I get that, I understand that you dont want me, but you could’ve fucking said that!” He snapped, his emotioms overtaking his everything. Tears brimmed at his eyes, his voice gave signs to the vulnerabilty he was giving.

“You didnt have to do that.” He sighed, unwilling to let the rest of his emotions flow, he didnt want you to see what you did to him, only hear what you caused.

The shield you’d made just minutes ago to keep your heart together, crashed down. You could feel the radiating thump of your heart against your rib cage throughout your entire body, but none of it amounted to the pure guilt that claimed your body, the sinking hole inside your chest beginning to sink with the guilt overlapping, becoming too heavy.

Tears brimmed at your waterline, a lump grew in your throat, creating the effort you should’ve put in Chris, now replaced with the effort to apologize to Chris.

“Please Chris, you need to understand, I didnt mean to hurt you!” You begged, your voice becoming desperate. Yet, not even beginning to be as desperate as Chris ever was.

Hearing your words sent anger coursing through his blood, “Didnt mean to hurt me? You didnt fucking mean to hurt me? Can you hear yourself, Y/n? Are you out of your mind? Of fucking course you were gonna hurt me! You stood me up for some low life, I would’ve given you the world! But you chose fucking Derek—who, remind me, left you for a slut? No?” His words pierced right through you, re-opening the carefully stiched wounds Derek had left on you.

Fighting off the sobs became weaker and weaker, before your body felt absolutely broken from it all. Sobs racked through your body, and guilt replaced the tears spilling from your cheeks.

“No, no, no, Y/n, its fine. I’ll be just fine without you.” He mocked, shaking his head before sparing you one last glance, moving his begrudgingly feet away from you, walking away and leaving you there just as you’d done to him.

Even despite the pure need Chris felt to run back to you, to cradle you in his arms, soothe and apologize to you, he knew you didnt deserve that, he knew he was better than what you were going to offer to him anyways. You didnt fucking deserve the love and pure adoration Chris would’ve offered, would’ve given with no hesitation.

2096 words.

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[sweatervest-obsessed]

Okay.. hear me out the song 'Stick Season' by Noah Kahan... for a fic like her and spence break up and she can't move on from him...

Oh you mean my FAVORITE NOAH KAHAN SONG???

Absolutely girlboss.

It ended up being 3.5k, so please please enjoy!!

(it's a gn! fic btw)

You must have had yourself a change of heart like Halfway through the drive Because your voice trailed off exactly as you passed my exit sign Kept on drivin' straight and left our future to the right

Everyone in the BAU hated letting Spencer drive. It was a fact of the universe. It wasn’t because he was bad at it, in fact he was quite a good driver. But whenever he would drive, it was constant chatter, constant rambling, and sometimes, it would be in between NPR segments where Spencer would correct someone or pause to discuss interesting facts that he knew. 

So when Spencer offered to drive the team to the hotel across town, no one had the guts to say no. It was some random town in Vermont, in the middle of October, some weird string of murders throwing another small town into disarray. He was in the middle of describing the science behind why certain leaves change into certain colors when his voice died out.

They were at one of two stop lights in town and they were stopped at one of them. Spencer was looking diagonally across at some random coffee shop, and Derek could not, for the life of him, figure out why Spencer was looking over there. 

“Reid? Hello.” 

“It’s her.” 

“Who?” Derek followed his line of sight again and realized what Spencer was looking at, well, who he was looking at. 

You. 

“Oh my god. Isn’t that…” 

Spencer nodded his head. 

“Why is she…” 

Spencer just stared at you. “I don’t know.” 

You were now leaving the coffee shop, cup in hand and small brown bag in the other. Spencer could probably guess what was in both. 

“Green light Reid.” 

The two of them started to move again, but neither of them spoke on the way to the hotel. It was almost unbelievable that they hadn’t seen you in over two years and yet here you were, in some random town that had a serial killer. 

Now I am stuck between my anger and the blame that I can't face And memories are somethin' even smoking weed does not replace And I am terrified of weather 'cause I see you when it rains Doc told me to travel, but there's COVID on the planes

“No no. Lucille. You don’t understand. He was like, nerdy hot. And I fucked up big time.” 

Lucille snorted and handed you the blunt in her hand. “My love, my life. I bet you, he was the problem.”

You scoffed and took a hit. “Yeah right.” 

Lucille raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms. “You’re not still in love with the guy are you?” 

“When you put it like that it makes me sound pathetic.” 

“Oh girl no, you are, aren't you.” 

You sighed and took another hit—a long inhale this time to compensate. 

“Sweetie, you are WAY too good for him.” 

You laughed. “Mr three PhDs, four Bachelors, and FBI? Yeah. I don’t think so.” 

“Weren’t you Mrs FBI?” 

“That’s Miss FBI to you. Mrs is reserved for happy married stupid people.” You grumbled and closed your eyes. 

“Wow.” 

“Wow What.” 

“He was really the one wasn’t he.” 

You nodded. “I really thought….god I’m so stupid.” You stood up and started pacing along the porch of your house. 

Once you and Spencer had broken up, you needed to get out of there. There had to be somewhere where he couldn’t touch you, couldn’t find you. So you closed your eyes and pointed to a random spot on the map. Then when you realized you pointed to Las Vegas, you sat down and wrote down what you knew about Spencer, then tried to find somewhere that he had the lowest percentage of going. 

And Fairlee seemed like the right place. There was nothing for him out here. 

Except for you. 

But Spencer didn’t feel that way. Not anymore at least.

You had taken up teaching, obtaining your teaching certificate up in Vermont and becoming one of ten teachers in the high school (which supported any child in a half hour radius). 

It wasn’t hunting down serial killers, but it was still fulfilling. 

That’s how you met Lucille. She was another teacher, in need of a roommate, and the rest is history. 

“You’re floating away again.” 

You snapped back to the conversation. “Sorry. Just. Really thought we were going to get married and be with each other and shit but.” 

“But?” 

“He wasn’t ready. You’d think three years knowing one another and being friends, and then another three years of dating would, you know. Add up to something.” 

“I’m sorry sweetie.” Lucille took your hand and squeezed it tightly. “He doesn’t deserve you.” 

“Yeah…maybe, I don’t know.” 

She squeezed it again. “Tonight’s the night Damian invited us all down to the bar to hang out, I know we said no but…might as well get free drinks out of a guy who will never get the hint. Free booze, boost of ego. You’re young, you’re hot.” 

“I see what you’re doing.” You smiled down at her. “But it’s raining and I’m not in the mood to get soaking wet just from walking from the house to the car then the car to the bar….”

“Pleaseeeee.” 

Just as you were about to answer, a pair of headlights turned onto your driveway. 

You’d know those stupid fucking headlights anywhere. 

“Who do we know that drives a black suburban?” 

Lucille shrugged. “I don’t think we know anyone who has one in town, why? Is that what the car is?” 

You nodded, your stomach dropping. 

“Luce. Hide the weed.” 

“Why, it's not Tom and you know he’s over here every—-“

“Now. Luce.” 

She furrowed her brows as the headlights stopped in front of the house. She quickly grabbed everything and went into the house. 

You stood on the porch, in your pajamas pants, and a sweatshirt, hands in the front porch. 

The car turned off and you watched as three figures got out of the car and walked up to the porch, freezing as they looked at you, the rain pouring down on them. 

“Why are you here Hotch?” 

The man was frozen,and he looked over at Emily, who was just as baffled to see you. 

“Y/n?” 

“Why are you here?” You asked again. 

“Why are you here?” 

“This is my home Em.” You stepped back a couple of steps and gestured for them to come up onto the porch so they don’t have to stand in the rain anymore. 

Spencer was silent the whole time, not taking his eyes off of you. 

The three of them moved up the porch and went towards the door, but you blocked them. 

“You need a warrant if you want to enter my house, Hotch. What are you doing here.” 

“We need to speak to Lucille Walkner.” 

“Why.” 

Emily raised her eyebrows, and crossed her arms. She was used to how stubborn you were, but being on the receiving end of it was something she was not a fan of. 

“It’s in regards to the string of murders y/n.” 

You raised your eyebrows. “I can guarantee you that I have been with Lucille every moment of every day for the past two weeks.” 

“We’re not accusing her, we’re just asking—“

You cut Emily off. “Asking her questions. Yeah. I know how this goes. In case you forgot or something. It hasn’t been that long. Why do you need to speak to her.” 

“Because she was the last person seen with the most recent victim.” 

You looked at Spencer for the first time since he got here. “So was I. But somehow you failed to mention that as well. You’re losing your grip, Doctor.” 

The group had never heard your voice so flat, so strict, so full of disdain. It was easy for you to treat him like he was the villain. He felt like one. He was one. 

“Y/n.” 

You broke your staring contest with Spencer and looked over at Hotch. “Get a warrant and come back tomorrow.” 

And with that you walked into your house and locked the door behind you. Feeling a bit more bitter than usual, you turned off the porch light too.

They all stood out there. Dumbfounded. 

And I love Vermont, but it's the season of the sticks And I saw your mom, she forgot that I existed And it's half my fault, but I just like to play the victim I'll drink alcohol 'til my friends come home for Christmas And I'll dream each night of some version of you That I might not have, but I did not lose Now your tire tracks and one pair of shoes And I'm split in half, but that'll have to do

When the BAU showed up at your door with the proper paperwork the next morning, both you and your roommate were at work, twenty minutes away. 

Your sense of humor still intact since you managed to leave a sticky note for them: 

At work. home by 4.

But that didn’t stop the caped crusaders of the BAU. 

When they showed up at the school to interview you and your roommate, Lucille went first, recounting the night all three of you went out to one of three bars in the town, and then when you offered to drive her home, she insisted on calling her own roommate. When you watched her get into her roommate's car, the both of you went home. 

When you recounted the same exact story, you both were released for the day. 

“Heard you were a pain in the ass yesterday.” 

You stopped in the hallway and turned around, facing Derek Morgan. “What do you want, Agent.” 

“Woah woah what’s with the formalities.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Derek. I’m really not in the mood. I fit the victimology of the asshole on a murder spree, and the team acted like I didn’t fucking know that. I’ve also realized you haven’t connected the fact that all of them are dating or sleeping with the police force.” 

“All? We only knew two of the five—“

“Because half of them don’t want to admit that they’re cheating on their wives, and the other half don’t want to admit they’re dating anyone regardless of marital status. Not a single one of the victims were married.”

Derek just stared at you. “Touchy subject?” 

You closed your eyes. “I still have a gun license Derek. Don’t make me use it.” 

“Too soon?” 

“Yeah Derek. Too soon.” You sighed as he pulled you into a hug. 

“We miss you y’a know. It’s not the same.” 

“I’m sure.” You squeezed him tightly. 

“And I’m serious. We haven’t found anyone nearly as good as you have been.” He whispered, kissing your head. “Your desk is still empty. Hotch won’t let anyone sit there. I think he’s hoping you’d come back. I think we all are.” 

“I can’t even look at him and it’s been two years” you whispered trying not to cry. 

“I know.” He just squeezed you. “I know.” 

“God I just….”

Derek pulled you into an empty classroom the second he felt your body tense up. There was one thing you hated more than crying, and it was crying in public. Once the door to the classroom was closed, he pulled you back into the hug, letting your tears pour down his shoulder.

“God I thought I’d never have to see you people again.” 

Derek chuckled. “Clearly you didn’t read your contract. It’s required that you’re supposed to see me at least seven times a year and if you don’t, I hunt you down.” 

You laughed through your tears and sat down on one of the desks. “You wish.” 

“I do.” 

“Be serious Derek.” 

“I am.” 

You sighed and looked up at him. “Well. Now you know where I am so. Come and visit me I guess.” 

“Oh I plan on it gorgeous.” 

You used the sleeve of your sweater to wipe away some of the tears still clinging to your cheeks. 

“He misses you too.” 

“Derek….”

He knew it ws dangerous territory, but he had to let you know—He needed you to know how it was affecting everyone, even though it’s been two years. “He does.” 

“Why would you tell me that Derek.”  

“You have to–

“Have to what Derek. I don’t wan—that’s a lie. What I would fucking give to be back in DC; back at the FBI. But I can’t do it Derek. I can’t go back.” 

“But–”

“No.” You backed away from him, out of his arms. “I’m not going back.”

“Please.” Derek watched as your back straightened and your eyes hardened. You didn’t want to talk about it anymore. You were just starting to move on. Fuck. He watched as you closed yourself off again. 

“Do you need anything else agent or can I go.” 

“Y/n…”

“Then goodbye Agent Morgan.” 

So I thought that if I piled something good on all my bad That I could cancel out the darkness I inherited from dad No, I am no longer funny 'cause I miss the way you laugh You once called me forever now you still can't call me back

Unexpectedly, but expectedly, the killer was caught. He was some sort of religious nut who had decided that “immoral sinners” be put in your place. 

That was something you did not miss: the misogynistic murderers. 

But the BAU was getting ready to leave. You were grateful that they had come and protected the community you had grown so close to, but the thought of them knowing where you were made you nervous. 

You knew Penelope most likely tracked you from time to time, and you weren’t trying to live completely off the grid/untraceable. But seeing them in person, watching them run around your town, was nerve-wracking. 

Seeing Spencer fucked you up the most though. 

He looked okay; or better than you at least. He was completely and utterly okay, and it bugged the shit out of you. How could he be okay, how could he move on and be happy without you, while you are stuck still trying to locate the remaining pieces of your shattered heart.

To Spencer, you were a wonderful experience. But to you, Spencer was everything. 

The BAU had left, no goodbyes were in order since you had fulfilled your goal of attempting to burn every bridge you had. It was painful, but you just couldn't help it. They reminded you of Spencer. Everything reminded you of Spencer. 

Lucille watched as you slowly transformed back into that lost person from two years ago. Your smile never reached your eyes. You drank just enough to be concerning, but not enough to continuously push the boundaries of alcoholism. Your face was pale. You never laughed or cracked jokes any more. 

All you could do was think of Spencer. Waking up next to him, his arms around your waist. The smell of his apartment, the rides to work, the glances from your desk to his desk. It was all just too painful. 

There were moments where you would pick up your phone and sometimes it felt like the world was against you. Derek posted a picture from some sort of day off, and suddenly you didn’t follow him anymore. Or, if you opened NPR, Doctor Spencer Reid was the headliner in a speaker series at Georgetown in blah blah blah. So you stopped listening to the radio. 

Every since he stepped out of the car in your drive you, you’ve wanted to call him. You’ve wanted to hear him speak to you like he did, to love you like he did. You wanted to call him and hear him apologize and tell you everything was going to be okay and this was all just a big misunderstanding and you were his forever. 

But you had a feeling that if you called, he wouldn’t pick up. 

Oh, that'll have to do My other half was you I hope this pain's just passin' through But I doubt it

One Year Later…

Time flies. Leaves change. Life moves on. 

But suddenly it's back to October and you find yourself in a new town, somewhere completely different. Another fresh start. Maybe this one will stick. 

But then you get a call.  

And it’s from Erin Strauss, offering you your job back, and your hesitation gave her all of the information she wanted to hear. You had three days to make a decision. 

Do you continue to run from place to place, hoping and praying that maybe someday you’d be able to feel like you deserved to be loved again. Hoping that someday someone might actually want to stay. They might want you to stay. 

Do you stay in this new town, and get attached to the people, making new friends, reminding you of the old ones, and hoping that it will be enough to fill the holes in your skin. 

Do you continue to teach. Do you continue to shape minds even though it’s not something you had ever dreamed of doing. Especially when it feels like you’re trying to force your body into loving something it doesn’t. 

Or

Do you go back to the FBI–the BAU.

Do you ignite the flame in your chest and let yourself enjoy the chase. LEt yourself be happy with your job and treasure every moment you get to catch the bad guy. 

Do you accept the job and move back to the desk you belong at, surrounded by your friends. Once again in a building you call home, letting your guard down for the first time in three years. 

Do you let your guard down and talk to Spencer and watch yourself undo all of the progress you had made. Watch as your resolve crumbles and your heart aches and you can;t even breathe around him because it hurts to see him. 

Do you give up and follow him around like some lost puppy and beg for him to take you back so maybe you’ll be able to melt your waxen heart and be happy again. 

You don’t take the job. You never hear from Erin Strauss again. 

And I love Vermont, but it's the season of the sticks And I saw your mom, she forgot that I existed And it's half my fault, but I just like to play the victim I'll drink alcohol 'til my friends come home for Christmas And I'll dream each night of some version of you That I might not have, but I did not lose Now your tire tracks and one pair of shoes

Sometimes in your sleep, you can see what your wedding would have looked like. The venue, the florals, your outfits and shoes. Your closest friends and family by your side as you commit your soul to be bound to his. 

But every time you get to the I Do’s, Spencer says yes. 

It hurts because you never even made it that far. 

You didn’t even get an engagement ring. 

All you got were pitiful looks and sympathetic glances while Spencer rambled on about how much he didn’t understand marriage or want children–not that you did, but you would have liked for it to have been a discussion between the two of you. 

You would have liked a lot of things. 

Sometimes, in your dreams, Spencer proposes. 

It never leaves your mind, watching as he publicly declares his love for you. Apparently, that was too much to ask for. 

And I'm split in half, but that'll have to do Have to do

The pain of waiting to be loved feels like you’ve but split down the middle, letting yourself melt apart. The skin, no matter how hard you try, can never be stitched back together, and even if you manage to get some back, it scars over, reminding you for the rest of your life how unloveable you feel. 

Maybe you’ll get lucky and someday you can learn to live with never being truly whole again. 

Since Spencer owns half of you, and you will never be whole without him.

Part 2

[earlysunshines]

are we still friends? (can we be friends?)

minatozaki sana x fem!reader ; fluff, angst 

synopsis: seeing sana again during christmas causes feelings to resurface

warnings: food ; alcohol ; datzu crumbs ; cursing ; proofread halfway bc i got lazy + grammar and spelling errors probably

a/n: how to write angst?? am i cooked?? (I'm cooked) ALSO I wrote this in December so a lonnnngg time ago like when I touched the doc for the first time two days ago it said last edited 12/30/23 T-T

“y/n! come help with the decorations, it a bit tough to reach.” your mom calls out from the entrance.  

pausing in your place, you turn to respond to her, “i’ll be there in a bit, let me finish mixing everything.” 

“okay honey. make sure to wear a coat when you get out here, it’s chilly!” she yells back before closing the door. 

a giggle leaves your lips as you continue to sift the dry ingredients, trying not to spill the flour and sugar. when you’re done with a part of your cookie process, you wash your hands and throw on your puffer jacket before heading out to help your mom. 

christmas is in four days and your mom has this annual thing where she throws a big party at your place every christmas eve. she invites all her friends who are back in town—some even fly out to come to this big event—and it goes on until the concerningly late hours of the night.  

your mom didn’t get to throw this big party last year because she was terribly sick, so you missed it that time, but now she’s so back.  

this means you’re in charge of the baking (yet again) and also helping her out everywhere. it’s not that you don’t enjoy this, if anything you look forward to this event—just not this year, it won’t be the same as the previous christmas parties. 

your mom has this friend who moved in five minutes away from your house when you were twelve, and they had a daughter your age. of course, both your mothers found a way to get you guys to meet, and eventually, you’d be spending the majority of your middle and high school years together stuck by the hip. 

her name was minatozaki sana; she was the first person you had fallen in love with inside and out.  

she had this type of vibrance to her that spread through her surroundings like a bullet train. if the room was dim, it’d seem like she had brought a piece of the sun inside just by being there, instantly illuminating it. it was palpable that she had her flaws, everyone did, but with the way she held herself up and gave her all, you’d see right past her imperfections and into that warm heart of hers. 

sana expected nothing and appreciated everything, that’s what made her lips curl up into a contagious grin. the streaks of creased skin in the corner of her eyes as she flashed that toothy grin gave everyone the intimation that she was simply overjoyed to be able to have the ability to love and to care. she was so beautiful in the way she found adoration so enticing, and that’s why you had fallen in love with her. 

your years with her passed by quickly, each year was filled with vibrant memories that led you to fall even deeper into her charm. however, you never mustered up the courage to tell her how you really felt toward her, and by the time you had gotten close to spilling out your pent up feelings; sana had found herself a little boyfriend. 

chris was some guy on the basketball team—who was also a bit short and lacking skill to even make the team—he was an arrogant, pretentious, and egotistical snob who managed to win sana’s heart. how did he do this? who knows, everyone who’s interacted with him either hates his guts or is in love with his pathetic self.  

he was only nice around sana, but you had seen him when he wasn’t pretending like there wasn't a stick up his ass. he was below the bare minimum and that’s how you’d describe him, he was nowhere near sana’s league. if anything, maybe you were just jealous (and that you were), but you knew what kind of person deserved sana—chris was not someone who deserved a wonderful woman like her. 

that asshole managed to win sana’s heart and keep it for half of junior year and all of senior year of high school, then he managed to convince her to go to a college that was a five-hour flight away from home—and by the way, your town was a two-hour drive from a well-known, top notch university, one that you and sana agreed to go to when you were both in middle school. 

there was no way you’d let sana go to that college, not when chris was the reason she was going. it was a school that wasn’t even comparable to the one not so far from home, the one that had significant alumni and programs fit for the both of you. sana could easily win a decent scholarship to the university you’ve been dreaming of going to, but she was going to let him change her mind in a matter of seconds. 

there was no way you’d let that happen, so you simply walked over to her house and stormed up to her room after seeing her text regarding this whole plan, a fool’s plan.  

- 

you remember the argument that shattered your friendships in seconds, almost like it was yesterday. 

“sana, you can’t just go to that school because of chris. look, i’m saying this as your friend and because i love you: he’s not all that, and the uni nearby has great health programs, they’re ten times better than the school over there and you know it.” you argue.  

you’re pacing around the room that you and sana have had countless late-night conversations and sleepovers in, the place where you had done more for sana than chris did. your eyes land on the two strips of laminated paper that hold the memory of the time you two had gone to the photobooth on your sixteenth birthday, your brows crease at the sight of your cheeks squished with sana’s as the two of you posed. a heavy breath makes your lungs shrink as you exhale. 

“i can’t let you do this, not for him sana.” 

“but i love him so much y/n, you know this. he promised we could stay in an apartment together and that everything would be perfect, we have a whole future planned and i—” 

“what about us sana?” you cut her off, voice breaking slightly. “what about our future? we promised that we’d go to that uni together, what happened to that? you’re going to throw it away for him?” 

“you’re being ridiculous y/n, we were thirteen! things change and you need to grow up, look—”  

“we’ve known each other since elementary school and you’re throwing away this opportunity for a guy whose grades are falling apart. not only that, he’s a fucking ass! you’ve come crying and complaining to me more times than i can count on my left hand.” you respond angrily, and much louder than you meant to. 

sana looks at you in disbelief, her expression almost carrying some sort of disappointment or disgust. she scoffs and you feel your heart shatter just from hearing it, this isn’t like her at all. 

“if you were so fucking annoyed by my misery then you could’ve told me,” she responds harshly, water lining her eyes.  

“sana that’s not what i—" 

“you’re supposed to be my best friend, always there for me and to support me. now look at you, what happened to that? can’t you be happy for me and chris? i seriously love him and all you’ve been is mopey and bitchy whenever he’s around.” 

“i know more people that have treated you better than him. he’s an asshole sana, it’s clear as day and even dahyun agrees.” 

her eyes meet the floor and she says in a smaller voice, “i love him y/n, and he loves me.” 

not like i love you, never will he love you like that. 

your features soften as you look at her. “sana you can’t—” 

“get out of my room.” sana spits in a stinging tone that’s worse than a dagger to your heart. she shakes her head then turns to avoid your gaze and your heart completely shatters as you watch a tear slide down her cheek in the process. “get out of my house, i don’t want to hear it.” 

“sana,” you begin, but when you hear her sniffle, you hold back everything that’s burning in your chest. your shoulders give up and sink in defeat before you croak out an “okay.” 

turning around, you step out of her bedroom with a heavy heart and trembling lips. tears stream down your cheeks as you make your way out of the house where sana and you had spent countless hours together—hours that you’d never forget no matter how hard you tried. 

- 

each breath you take is visible in the cold air and snow compresses with each step you take whilst hanging up the christmas lights. your mother smiles once you pin the last string up and  then you take a step back to admire the illuminating pattern of diverse hues beaming when your mom presses the “on” button. 

“thank you again honey, i appreciate it.” your mom says, holding your hand and squeezing it gently.  

you turn and smile at her, shaking your head before responding, “anytime mom.” 

the two of you enter the house again and immediately you’re on your way back to the kitchen to finish up your famous cookies. you three different types of cookies: chocolate chip cookies (the fastest batch to be eaten), matcha cookies with white chocolate chips, and ube cookies—sana’s favorites. 

-- 

“ube? what’s that?” sana says, giggling softly as you hand her a purple cookie with white chocolate chunks.  

“just try it sana, you’ll love it.” you assure, urging her to try. “it’s purple too, how could you not?” 

she rolls her eyes at you then picks up the sweet treat, taking a bite of the cookie. it’s crunchy on the outside and perfectly soft on the inside, making her shoulders sink down and eyes close when the new, thrilling flavor meets her tastebuds. 

“so, how is it?” you ask, raising your brows. sana simply smiles and nods, shooting a dorky thumbs up before taking another bite. 

“it’s wonderful, it’s like coconut and nutty and has vanilla and oh my gosh it’s so… it’s really good.” she sighs, melting as she consumes your baked good. she looks adorable. 

you laugh at her response and take a bite of your own experiment, eyes widening at how good they were. sana was right, they’re wonderful. 

-- 

“ah the purple cookies, those were a hit ever since you started making them.” your mom says, rubbing your back. she looks at you with some pity, knowing about your little falling out with sana. 

you simply smile and nod. “i like them, i was going to save some for myself too.” you joke, easing some tension in the air. 

“well, i’m going to call your dad up, go visit the kim’s later and tell them i said hi.” your mom insists, placing a twenty dollar bill on the marble counter. “heard they have a holiday latte out, you should try it. dahyun’s also been experimenting with her baking and beverages, she gets better each time i visit.” 

“of course she is,” you chuckle lightheartedly, “let me just finish these last cookies and i’ll put them in the fridge for a bit. did you want anything from their place?” 

“no, it’s fine. oh wait! i have a present for dahyun’s mom, can you give her this if she’s there?” she asks. 

“mhm,” you hum,  “just put it near my bag on the couch.” 

“thanks sweetie, i’ll do that.” your mother beams, then rushes towards her room to grab whatever it was that she needed. 

-- 

ring  

the sound of the bell chimes throughout the café—which is not too busy other than the elderly group in the corner and a student typing away at their computer to the side. you catch sight of the familiar face, instantly grinning when you walk towards the register. 

dahyun is turned away from you and cleaning the espresso machine, wiping it down and yelling a “welcome! feel free to check out the holiday pastries and beverages!” without turning towards you. 

you laugh and speak up, “it’s nice to see you miss know-it-all.” and upon hearing your voice dahyun instantly turns around, beaming a bright grin and setting her rag down. 

“y/n? you didn’t tell me you were in town? what the hell where were you last year?” she questions, walking out from behind the counter and then towards you to greet you with a warm hug. she smells like coffee grinds and cinnamon, you hug her back and smile. 

“i was deathly sick last year, like seriously fighting for my life. i didn’t tell you?” 

“no stupid, you didn’t.” she sighs, then pulls away to look at you. “i’ve only seen your instagram posts, haven’t seen you in a bit and wow… you look better than in the pictures.” 

“thank you?” you giggle before she walks over to return back behind the register. “i’ve also seen your instagram… who’s that girl you’ve been posting? got a girl and didn’t fill me in with the details?” you pry, smirking cheekily. 

“oh, tzu… gosh y/n we have so much to talk about, i’m glad you’re back in town.” dahyun says appreciatively, and you don’t miss the slight pink that dusts on her cheeks before she starts again, “let’s talk over some coffee. what can i get you? on the house by the way. we have like, thirty minutes before a bunch of people start piling in.” 

a giggle leaves your lips again before you decide on a peppermint mocha. dahyun gets to work and weighs out the coffee grins as you situate yourself to the side, watching her work her magic. 

the two of you catch up on what’s been going on with college, dahyun’s love life that you’ve missed out on, and what you’ve been up to yourself. twenty minutes pass and you’ve both ended up on some old memory that has the two of you laughing like idiots again, making both your stomachs hurt. 

“so… we’ve talked about what’s been going on with me… what about you and your love life? bet you’ve met a girl too.” dahyun interrogates with a teasing tone.  

“oh, well—” you begin, awkwardly staring at the cup in your hand. “i dated this girl for a while, but we ended up falling out and staying friends, nothing much… we just weren’t right for each other.” 

“i see…” dahyun responds, holding herself back from bringing up the sensitive topic—or, well, person.  

dahyun was aware of the falling out as well, but still stayed friends with sana. however, she was your friend before she met sana, so she had made sure if it was alright to keep contact and whatnot. of course you didn’t want your own personal problems to get in between other friendships, and you still loved sana despite everything that had happened so you gave dahyun the green light.  

after running to dahyun the same night of the argument with sana, you cried for an hour or two in her room. this was the first time you turned to someone other than sana, and dahyun had been on your side of the whole situation, making it easier to comfort and reassure you. she also disliked chris, but not as much as she liked you. 

she pretty much agreed with everything you had ranted about and thought it was stupid that sana would rather choose that asshole over someone like you, and later on you’d confess that you were in love with sana to dahyun. when everything had been rocky with sana, dahyun had been by your side, and you were grateful for that. 

“well, maybe you’ll land yourself a kiss under the mistletoe, who knows who’ll be showing up to your christmas party.” dahyun nudges you, smiling as she hands you some peppermint chocolate bark treat. “i could always set you up~” 

“it’s fine, really.” you guarantee. a smile spreads across your face and you dismiss her offer with a wave of your hand. “um, by the way… has um, has she stopped by or anything like that recently? does sana still visit—" 

there’s another ring from the door opening that cuts you off, making dahyun’s attention redirect towards the customer walking in. her eyes widen and she pauses in place before smiling awkwardly, then she mumbles an uneasy “um, be back…” before walking over to the register. 

you don’t think much of her weird mood shift and instead swirl around the small remainder of coffee in the latte cup. 

“hi dahyun! it’s nice to see you again.” a voice beams.  

you freeze in place, all of your body tensing up as soon as the familiar voice processes through your ears. it’s smooth, it’s sweet, and it has that same high-pitched ring and giggle that follows. immediately, your heartbeat spikes and you’re doing anything you can to avoid interacting or even looking in the woman’s direction. 

“it’s nice to see you too sana,” dahyun greets with a bubbly tone. the name being uttered from dahyun’s mouth is enough to make your hands grip the cup in your hand a little tighter. “can i get you anything?”  

“hm… i’ll have that peppermint mocha please. i’m also going to take a look around the bakery, i need to grab some treats for others. you know how it is, holidays and whatnot.” sana says in that adorable tone, it has you falling for her all over again just when you thought you’d gotten over everything that’s happened. 

quickly, you finish the last sip of your coffee before setting the empty cup down abruptly. it makes a small yet noticeable sound with the glass plate it had been sitting on, making sana advert her gaze.  

the small gift you had set down beside you is now placed on the glass that covers the display of christmas themed cakes. dahyun looks at you in confusion and tilts her head before you turn to smile at her, avoiding sana’s widening eyes. 

“thanks for the coffee dahyun, take the present on the glass to your mom—it’s from my mom to yours.” you start, trying to keep your voice level 

every ounce of restraint and discipline is fighting back the urge to simply glance at sana, who’s standing right in front of dahyun. you almost manage to avoid her, but it’s inevitable, your eyes land on your first love for the first time in almost two years. 

she’s looking at you with parted lips and surprise, but she still looks as beautiful as you remember. sana looks a little more mature than when you last saw her; the curve of her jaw is sharper, lips somehow brighter and her features are more defined overall. sana is wearing a scarf that fits around her neck comfortably, a brown, fluffy sweater, and dark sweatpants with uggs to compliment the outfit. there’s simplicity in her look—she’s jaw dropping, the sight of her makes your jaw tighten and heartbeat spike.  

her eyes meet yours for exactly three seconds, enough time to have every memory flowing in. 

clearing your throat, you finish your farewell to dahyun with a smile, “i’ll see you around, my mom says hi to your mom, tell her i also said hi too. i’ll get going now, have a good one.” 

your body doesn’t fight back the urge to glance at sana again—big mistake—before turning around and walking out the door. 

sana keeps her look on you the whole time, baffled to see you here and her own heart yearns for you. she’s missed you more than you’d ever know, and more than she’d like to admit. it doesn’t help her case that you’re ten times more attractive than when she’d last seen you at graduation. 

“you should talk to her.” dahyun says softly. sana keeps her eye on the door, you’re already out and probably in your car, but she keeps her eye on the door still. 

“were you talking to her earlier?” sana asks, now turning to face the younger woman. 

“we were catching up.” dahyun answers. the woman behind the register turns around to start making sana’s drink, unknowingly the same drink you had ordered. it all makes dahyun’s own heart sink in her chest a bit. “how long has it been since you’ve talked to her?” 

“since graduation.” sana explains, looking down at the counter. “i messed up.” 

dahyun turns around again to see sana, sorrow and regret etching into her features. the barista frows and reaches over to place her hand on sana’s shoulder, then rubs it gently.  

“talk to her, there’s always time to fix things. especially with y/n.” 

-- 

a few days past since that meeting, you’re still shaken up from it to say the least.  

sana is too, but you aren’t aware of that. 

to stray away from this event that is dreadfully close to leading to some form of existential crisis or spiral, you’re helping your mom out with setting up the last few decorations and tables while your cookies that you chilled a couple days ago bake.  

dahyun is also coming over with her girlfriend in the evening to exchange a couple of greetings and to properly introduce her girlfriend tzuyu to you. your mother had met tzuyu before and talked highly about her, so you were excited to meet her yourself.  

when the time comes, you hear a knock at the door and shoot up to answer it. you open the door and dahyun stands there with a nervous grin on her face. next to her stands tzuyu—and sana.  

your eyes widen and your jaw tenses when you see her perfect face, standing next to tzuyu with this awkward smile. she’s wearing a gray pullover and black sweatpants; an orange scarf also wraps around her neck comfortably. she looks snug and cute as ever, no matter what she’s adorable in your eyes. your heart flutters and you get all nervous like a teenager again. 

pushing away the edginess flowing throughout your whole being, you greet dahyun with a warm hug, then give tzuyu and friendly one as well. you’re not sure how to greet sana, being all shaken up by just her presence, so you resort to a smile and a small “hi sana,” then invite them all in. 

sana walks in and her hand brushes against your arm on accident, the two of you definitely notice it—though you both decide to ignore it and the warmth in your chests.  

your mom greets all the girls with a hug and the five of you sit down in your homey living room. sana sits across from you on the couch next to your mom, and you sit there avoiding eye contact as you all catch up. 

an hour passes by and dahyun is over in the living room talking to your mom about what’s been going on with her parents and the bakery. in the meantime, you decide to give yourself a break from feeling all nervous just by being near sana. 

standing up, you announce, “i’m going to the kitchen for a bit.” your mom simply raises her brows at your sudden departure, you’ve been silent for most of the conversation and it seems like you’re the only one affected by the tension in the room. “won’t be long.” you add, smiling weakly. 

the fridge is still full of some essentials, and to the side, there’s some cold brew and your favorite coconut milk; everything you need is right where you need it. you head over to the counter and grab your favorite glass cup, heart stinging at the memory of when you had received it. it was one of the many gifts from sana. 

you grab some ice and put it in the cup, then add your cold brew inside. then you grab a small cup with some honey and search for a spoon so you can mix it in with the coconut milk. 

“drinking coffee at this time?” a voice says, making you freeze. you break out of your short trance and hum in response before continuing to make your drink. 

“you know i can’t resist a good coffee, sana.” and the way her name slips off your tongue feels right. you haven’t said it often since the falling out and it still rolls off perfectly, it feels right coming from you. you’re hesitant to talk again, feeling her eyes drill into your back. something in your heart shifts and you manage to ask, “did you want something to drink?” 

“yeah,” she answers, walking over to you and sitting at the kitchen island. “same thing you’re drinking, but sweeter.” 

of course she wants it sweet, just like always.  

“okay.”  

your back is still turned towards sana and she watches you grab another glass. as you do so, she gets a glimpse of your own glass and smiles. “is that the cup i got you?”  

still fixing up her drink, you nod and answer, “yeah. it’s my favorite.” 

“a lot of your gifts are my favorites too.” she admits, her voice so soft and fragile that you’re scared the thick tension in the air might break it. 

sana watches you turn around, but you still avoid her gaze. you place both cups on the surface of the kitchen island and begin to pour the coconut milk mixtures into the coffee. the liquids swirl as they combine, creating a satisfying view. sana’s quick to redirect her attention back to you, staring at your face again. 

last time she had saw you at dahyun’s cafe, she only had the chance to get a simple glance at your features, not enough time to fully take in everything that’s changed about your apperance. there’s two new piercings on both ears and a new, small tattoo below your ear; the length of your hair is also noticeably longer. your lips part as you swirl both cups in your hands around, and then you take a quick glance to the side, allowing sana to admire your side profile and the unique curve of your nose and lips. 

you hold the mug out for her and finally meet her eyes again. sana’s favorite thing about you were your eyes, they’re still as pretty as she remembers.  

- 

it’s some thursday night during your sophomore year of high school, you were supposed to be studying with sana for your math quiz tomorrow, but she had other ideas.  

“stay still,” sana mumbles softly. 

she situates you in the chair near her desk and tilts your head up with the fingers holding your chin. she’s inches away from you as she puts some sort of sponge on your face, brows creasing as she does so. your heart is racing. 

after a couple of minutes, sana finishes up your makeup. she’s done some type of natural look on you, nothing too heavy or bold. you look at yourself through the mirror and take a moment to examine sana’s doings. as you do so, sana can’t keep her eyes off you. 

something in her heart shifts as she admires you. her eyes land on your lips, they’re oddly alluring, and sana’s cheeks burn. 

“sana you’re staring… do i look weird?” 

“no,” she practically breathes out, mouth slightly agape. “you’re beautiful.” she says breathlessly, her expression turning all serious it makes you giggle awkwardly. 

there have been many moments where sana has found you pretty, not just physically. your small gifts and reassurance have made her heart flutter, but she’s always figured that was just because she loved you deeply as a friend. but when you stare at her with those eyes in this moment, she’s so surprised by everything she feels. she's giddy and happy and warm inside and gosh her heart wants to jump out her chest and cling onto you. she's not opposed to the feeling; she always has this feeling aorunf you and she loves it. that's why she’s always around you in the first place. 

her face burns and you’re gazing at her all confused, you look so cute. 

growing nervous from how non-verbal sana has been, you try to shake her out of her trance. “hey, you’re scaring me. earth to sana? hellooooo…?” 

“how are you so pretty all the time.” sana’s eyes soften and her whole body relaxes as she rests her head on her palm. “like, your face is so perfect and your eyes… god y/n, whoever gets to be with you would be so lucky, seriously. like, you’re honestly the prettiest girl in our school, how do you not have a boyfriend?” 

your cheeks flush from the abrupt compliment, so you push her gently and giggle. sana giggles along with you, still star-struck. you’re both young and unknowingly in love with each other—giggles and teasing seem to be the only way to hide that. 

- 

sana has always found you attractive, after all these years she still hasn’t figured out why she made the mistake of pursuing chris instead of the person who was always there for her—and ten times prettier. you’ve always been right there, she’s a fool for looking right past you. 

sana grabs the mug, still making eye contact with you and both your eyes soften at the same time. 

“y/n i’m sorry.” she says immediately, “i messed up really bad and—” 

“sana,” you cut her off, “just enjoy the drink.” she watches you smile at her, it’s genuine and small, still enough to calm her nerves. you grab your glass and walk towards the door to the porch, tilting your head and urging her to come follow. sana figures she could pour her heart out later, if it were on the porch it wouldn’t be the first time she’s poured out her emotions there.  

the two of you find a seat across from each other, the fairy lights above create some type of ambiance to ease the tension that’s hanging in the air like an invisible cloak of some sort, suffocating the two of you with its unease. 

“how have you been?” sana asks. it’s cliché, but what else was she supposed to say?  

you don’t look up from the drink in your hand when you respond, “good, you?”  

“likewise.” sana lies, her jaw clenching.  

“you know,” you begin, and with intent, your eyes meet her face and she’s doing the same as you had been doing before; she simply sits there with the drink in her hand, looking quite on edge. “i figured if i were to see you again like this, chris would be with you.”  

“we broke up three months after we moved in together.” sana says quietly, “i broke up with him.” 

“sana…” you mumble quietly, surprised to say the least. “why— what?” 

“i ruined everything between you and i because i was so blinded by his affection, i couldn’t stay with him anymore with guilt clawing at me.” she explains, her voice breaking slightly. “and i couldn’t bring myself to talk to you after hurting you. losing you was the biggest mistake of my life. god, it took everything in me to come back to you.” 

“you never lost me sana,”  

“i’m just… sorry for everything, i really am.” she says sincerely, “and i don’t think enough words could really explain how sorry i am.” 

you look at her with pity, and despite her coldness towards you during the last semester of your senior year, you decide to let everything go. she’s your best friend after all, you promised yourself to be there. 

“it’s okay.” you say, it’s not the truth, but it’s not a lie either. “it was my fault too for letting the distance between us get larger.” 

“don’t say that, it’s not your fault.” sana sighs. she takes a sip of the coffee, it’s good, of course— everything you’ve ever made for her has been great. “i only stayed with chris because i was scared. that’s why it was so easy for me to leave everyone i loved behind, i think.” 

“scared? …of what?” 

she looks dead into your eyes and exhales, “i realized that, that maybe i was with chris because i was trying to push down how i felt about you.” 

you tilt your head in confusion, then begin to pry, “sana what do you mean—" 

“y/n, i was falling for you and it terrified me. i mean, i loved you, and honestly, i think i still do. i'm so fucking dumb, god i'm just oblivious.” sana says, then immediately, your heart rate spikes and your brows raise. she continues while fidgeting with her fingers, “i guess it’s easier to admit now because we’ve grown distant, and physically we’re distant enough. chris treated me alright and loved me, but i came crying to you all the time because he never treated me like how i wanted you to treat me, i don’t know why i did that. i don’t know why i let myself go through that when i had you. every time i’d kiss him i wished it were you, every time we did anything honestly.” 

sana's eyes shimmered with unshed tears, their glossy shine failing to hide the immense emotions she was desperately trying to suppress. the weight of her confession hung in the air, causing the entire world to momentarily freeze. it felt as though time itself had paused, giving you a moment to absorb the magnitude of her words. 

sana loved you, and she still does. you loved her, and you still do.  

but really, you can’t. you can’t go through with this. it’s too sudden, so unorganized and uncertain. 

all of this is a recipe for disaster. 

the echo of her vulnerability reverberated through the atmosphere, your mind spun in a cyclone of emotions. thoughts collided and collided again like football players during some game, leaving your head in a dizzying state of confusion, the sheer intensity of it all was jarring, leaving you all disoriented. the feelings you suppressed were finding their way back out, and you found yourself teetering on the precipice of vulnerability once again, just as you did years ago. 

finding out that sana loved you still gave you hope, but the revelation also made you uneasy. it had been too long without sana, and so much had happened, so there was the chance that things would be all rocky. besides, it’s just too sudden. 

“i’m— sorry for dumping all of this, i just wanted to give you closure because… well, i should’ve given you it years ago.” a tear streams down her eye as she says this, and then she begins to stand. “i should leave, i’m sorry for not letting you know i was coming— god i’m so sorry.” 

“sana wait—” you start, grabbing her wrist. she looks into your eyes, her’s are still glossy. you decide it’s better to let her go for now, unsure if this is the last time you’ll see her after this—hopefully not. “it’s okay, just… be careful. you know i’m always here, always sha.” 

the nickname that you made up for her makes her heart crack a little, she can only smile back at you for now. 

— 

the conversation between dahyun, tzuyu, and your mom is interrupted when dahyun catches the sight of sana pulling her scarf off the hook and wrapping it around her neck again. she takes account of the slight flush of her nose and cheeks, as well as her water-lined eyes. 

“you’re leaving?” dahyun asks, concern clear in her tone. sana simply smiles and nods, “yeah, i’ll see you at the holiday party. it was nice seeing you too miss l/n, i missed all of this.” 

“you’re always welcome honey,” your mother assures, “where’s y/n?” 

“out on the porch, she said she’ll be back in a bit. i’ll see you all, thank you.” sana says before departing, leaving the three women in the living room perplexed. 

a few minutes later whilst the three in the living room conjure up theories of what had happened while you and sana had been gone—you appear with a blank expression. you sit down next to your mom and lean against her, not saying a word. 

tzuyu (who is only briefly caught up with whatever had happened between you and sana, and she deinfitely needs a thorough presentation on your history) looks at dahyun and tilts her head, dahyun simply shakes her own head. 

“sana and i talked a bit, resolved and made things clear.” you say, answering the elephant in the room. “i’m heading up, i’m getting sleepy and i want to have some energy for the party tomorrow.” you add. “it was nice getting to know you tzuyu, you’re perfect for the idiot beside you. night everyone.” chuckling quietly in between responses. 

and with that you’re walking up the stairs to your room, leaving your mom, tzuyu, and dahyun perplexed yet again. 

- 

december 25th, five o’clock pm. 

you're greeting guests, various familiar faces and their parents, family friends, and whoever else you mom managed to fit on the list. 

the party is lively, with people scattered in the backyard and on the little porch while your dad grills his signature bbq meats. your mom laughs with her friends as she sips on her wine, moving her hands around as she talks to emphasize her little life updates. 

in the basement with you are your old high school friends: momo, her cousin mina, jaehyun, mark, johnny, seulgi, sooyoung, jeongyeon, and dahyun, who’s accompanied by tzuyu. the rest of your frineds couldn’t make it, they were probably out of town. all of them sit on the floor or couch with a can of smirnoff or soda, all chatting and laughing over old memories. 

you lean against jaehyun as you laugh, letting yourself hide behind his shoulder while mark ruthlessly brings up each embarrassing phase you’ve had. what a guy, a guy you’ll be figthing soon if he keeps this up. 

the feeling of your phone ringing against your palm as you hold it catches your attention, directing you from the conversation at hand. the screen shows a call from “mom♡” which earns a confused look. you answer the call, cupping the phone so you can hear her better as you answer. 

“hello? did you need something?” 

“hey honey, would you mind coming out for a bit? someone wants to see you.” 

“someone?” you ask, “one of your friends or...?” 

“just come on out sweetie.” she insistts. 

“okay okay, whatever you say.” you respond before ending the call and starting to get up. jaehyun looks up at you with a quirked brow as he sips on his drink. you look back and shrug, “my mom wants me to meet ‘someone,’ probably one of her friends or something. i won’t be long.” you respond to him and let the others know. 

"alright, take your time," jaehyun says with a nod, setting his drink down. "hopefully, it won't be too boring," he adds with a small smirk, teasing you gently. you roll your eyes playfully in response before grabbing your jacket and heading towards the sliding door.  

you were right about the guess on seeing your mom's friend, or—friends. however, the sudden chill you get when seeing the minatozaki’s on the porch makes you tense up.  

they're standing there, glasses of wine in their hands as they look at you. sana's mom has a smile on her face, so does her dad. you walk up to them and try to shake off your nerves, fully hugging sana’s mom and giving sana’s dad a side hug. 

“it’s been a while hasn’t it?” sana’s mom says, putting her hand on your shoulder and grinning. “it’s wonderful to see you again.” 

“likewise.” you respond, melting into relaxation the more you get used to this atmosphere. “how have you all been?” 

after a tense reunion with sana’s parents, they find out about your ambitions and what you’ve been up to. not much is mentioned about the falling out between you and their daughter, but the thought most definitely lingers in the cold, winter air.  

sana's parents tell you about an internship she earned at a hospital her first year, saying they’re proud of her for helping others and the bonus of the nice paycheck that came with the experience. they tell you she’s found herself a guaranteed transfer to your school and that she’s excited to help even more people in the nursing program. it sounds like sana’s a great person, she’s always wanted to help others, it makes you smile and nod as her parents update you on what she’s been up to. 

but there’s this feeling of uncertainty and sorrow brewing. the fact that you have to hear about sana from anyone but her breaks you a bit, knowing that the two of you wouldn’t hesitate to update each other back then. now, it seems like you’re missing a chunk of memories that you could’ve shared with sana. 

“we asked her to come to the party.” mr. minatozaki says, looking at you with a sympathetic smile. “she said she’d consider it.” 

“oh, i see.” you respond, nodding whilst looking at the ground.  

part of you is glad that she’s not here, but who are you kidding, there would never be a time where you’d be dissapointed to catch her near you, despite the paranoia taking over. 

“well, it’s nice to catch up y/n. we've missed you, it’s great to see how well you’re doing. your parents must be proud.” mr. minatozaki concludes, looking at you with admiration. 

“yeah, thanks.” you say, “well, i'll leave you to talk to my parents, but i'll stop by again to talk to you two. it's really nice to catch up, i've missed you guys too, and your wonderful dinners.” you add jokingly, earning a laugh from the couple. 

sana's mom kisses your temple and hugs you, then lets you walk back into the house. 

it seems like this whole night has been full of surprises—scratch that, at this point, everything is a surprise ever since you've been back in town. especially now, because once you step into the kitchen, there’s a familiar woman who’s making your knees weak all over again. 

“y/n, hey.” sana greets softly, smiling at you. 

she's just hung up her scarf on the little hook near the fridge, the same place she’d always hang it back then. there was this unspoken rule that when sana was here, there were certain spaces that belonged to her; the hook near the fridge, the chair at the dining table closest to the living room, the right side of your bed, and the left side of the couch in the basement.  

still, you’re pissed at the fact she had practically cut you off completely over a boy just to come back years later to win you back. it irritated you how easy it was for sana to convince you, but you were much angrier at the thought of her coming back to see you because her and chris didn’t work out. was she serious about the breakup? was that all it took to forget that she had caused so much mental turmoil? 

despite this, her being in your house again and seeing her at this christmas party like years before; everything reminds you of the fact that sana had always lingered in your home. 

“hey, didn’t think you’d make it.” you respond, watching her shrug. 

“my parents said your signature cookies are here, i had to.” 

can't be the only reason, you want to mumble, but your lips stay sealed. 

sana speaks again, “i stole a couple, ate some earlier actually. still as great as i remembered.” 

“thanks.” you mutter, walking over to the fridge to grab a bottle of water. “did you want to talk about something?” 

“what do you mean?” 

“there’s a reason you came, and i know it’s for me since you’re not in the basement with everyone else. we both know that’s the signature spot.” 

sana cringes at your tone, but gives in. 

“i just wanted to see you, and hopefully talk to you normally.” 

it's taking everything in you to hold your ground, to protect yourself from this sudden appearance that’s making you all uneasy again. you can’t let sana screw you up again with a simple visit, you can’t. 

“i know you’re sorry but sana, you treated me so terribly. do you know how much i cried? how fucking terrible i felt after losing my friend of years to chris?” you seethe, sighing. “part of me wants to start over, maybe try again—but how can i do that when there’s the chance of you throwing away everything, we rebuild over another stupid fucking guy.” 

she looks at you with guilt in her eyes, her shoulders sinking and words jumbling in her throat.  

“y/n, nothing—no one, despite what i've done to you, will ever make me forget how much i love you. there's always a space in my heart for you.” 

you scoff, anger flowing throughout you now, then walk over to her. she stands against the frame of the entrance, you stand in front of her now, looking down slightly. sana's looking at you directly in the eye, you can see the hurt and regret in her eyes; her look brings you back to your senses. 

“how do i know you’re not bluffing? sana, every ounce of me wants to redo this.” your voice cracks slightly, the hurt evident in your tone.  

“you just have to trust me, i'm sorry, i'm really sorry.” 

you feel like curling up into a ball and hiding, the way your chest tightens makes you want to cry a bit. 

- 

the party ends around one in the morning, considering the fact that some of the attendants are adults that don’t have the energy to party until the sunrises.  

jaehyun’s just crossed the line, now slurring his words and laughing stupidly while he gets touchy with the guys, so mark ends up driving him home. johnny catches a ride with seulgi and sooyoung. with them gone, you’re in the basement with momo, mina, dahyun, and tzuyu. all five of you end the night with some recollections of memories, momo’s recent date, mina’s annoying professor, and before you know it you all are hugging goodbye. 

you've already gone through three cans of the smirnoff cans, it hadn’t done much except make you a little more giggly and talkative. you were a little tipsy, that was all. 

throughout the night, tzuyu and dahyun exchange glances, their eyes meeting repeatedly, dahyuns hand rubbing tzuyu’s thigh, and the little smiles they give each other. all of it doesn’t go unnoticed – at least by you – and hints at the potential for something you don’t want to think of in detail once they return home.  

as you observe their subtle interactions, a pang of envy stirs within you, longing for that same allure and anticipation. amidst the swirling emotions, a sense of emptiness creeps in, amplified by the beers you’ve had. you're left to ponder on what’s making you feel hollow, still feeling bad after raising your voice at sana earlier. 

you can’t feel bad, you shouldn’t. whatever you did wasn’t comparable to her practically pretending you didn’t exist for almost two years. 

after rolling your eyes and saying some stupid joke to dahyun and tzuyu – the last to leave the house – you head back to the basement.  

of course, sana had to be sitting on the couch, head turned towards the tv as she sipped on a beer.  

“hey.” you mutter, earning her attention as she turns away from the christmas movie you paused earlier. 

“hi.” sana greets. 

every ounce of anger, irritation, and dread had been squeezed out your body at the sight of her. you genuinely think it’s the alcohol that’s making you rethink everything, making it hard to fight back that voice in your head that’s trying to stay reserved and petty. 

sana sits there, her gaze fixed on you with intensity. her glasses are perched on her nose, a familiar sight whenever she's engrossed in watching tv or anything like that. the sight only adds to her charm, making her look even more adorable. you can't help but notice her favorite cardigan draped over her shoulders – the fluffy, white knit cardigan she adores so much –it's a cherished gift from your mother, and she's held onto it all these years. her eyes bore into yours, drilling into your skull and compelling you to plop down beside her as if nothing had ever transpired between you. you surrender, maybe it’s the late hours of the night, maybe the beer, o rmaybe just sana. 

(it’s probably just sana.) 

she turns back to the movie playing, some stupid romcom jaehyun had put on as background noise. 

your eyes trace the curve of her nose, lingering on her lips and the impeccable contour of her jawline as she remains fixated on the tv screen. her side profile captivates you for a moment, holding you in some sort of spell until she breaks the silence with her soft voice. 

“i think our parents are playing card games in the kitchen.”  

“probably betting money too.” 

“remember when your dad took your christmas money for their game?” sana asks, giggling at the memory. her eyes are still fixed on the screen, you decide to tune into the movie too. “didn’t he lose too?” 

“yeah.” you sigh, sinking into the couch. “he paid me back double the next day though.” 

“so it was worth it?” 

“yeah, i think we went out to eat with that money.” 

sana turns to gaze at you, her eyes tracing the soft contours of your profile in the dimly lit room. the glow from the tv accentuates her favorite features of yours, and she finds herself lost in the sight before her. for a while, she simply stares, allowing the comfortable silence to envelop the moment.  

you turn to look at her now, you two just stare at each other for a while more. 

“maybe we can try again.” you mumble, giving into the beauty in front of you. “every part of me is against the idea.” 

“that’s understandable.” sana agrees. she sighs before adding, “you don’t have to try again.” 

“i know.” you assure, “but i think we should.” 

“i’m sorry.” 

“i know, sana.”  

as the music from the tv fills the room, silence once again settles between you and sana. you know that you can't let this opportunity slip away – it's everything you've wanted, and deep down, you realize it's everything you've needed too.  

there's a mistletoe that’s hung above the two of you, it’s been there the whole time, both of you were aware of it. it dangles from the light tantalizingly, but neither of you do anything about it. neither you or sana even mention it. your mind races to the memory of dahyun and tzuyu kissing each other under it and part of you wants to kiss sana like that, but you won’t let her kiss and make up. 

you reach out, your fingers gently intertwining with hers. you lift her hand to your lips, feeling the warmth of her skin against your own. softly, you press a kiss upon the back of her hand, you linger in the intimacy of the gesture. 

the two of you sit there for a moment, letting the world around you two fade away. 

everything about the moment renders you weak. you think to yourself that maybe, just maybe, a second chance is enough to patch things up. if it’s with sana, then maybe it’s worth it. 

[jeridandridge]

For Lovers At Night pt 1

Melissa meets someone that makes her reevaluate her marriage and life choices. Pre-doc crew at Abbott. Part 1

Melissa Schemmenti is miserable. Sitting at her kitchen table mindlessly flipping through a book her eyes catch the gold band on her finger. Joe had promised her when they first got married he would get her a diamond as soon as they got money. That was twenty years ago. She thinks back to before she got married, how carefree and happy she was. She spent her free time in clubs, bars, and artists dens, meeting whoever she wanted and most importantly being a mysterious woman that did whatever she wanted.

Sitting at the table she closes the book and stands up knowing Joe won’t be home for dinner anyway. Heading through the house she goes to their rarely shared bedroom and opens the closet door. Pushed to the side of the closet sits an old leather jacket she hasn’t worn since… god she can’t remember. Most likely since she and Joe got back together the last time.

Running her hand along the tough leather a small smile spreads across her lips as memories are brought back to her. The last time she wore it she opted on the back of a gorgeous woman’s motorcycle and flipped Joe off as they rode off into the night together.

That feels like a life time ago now.

Pulling the jacket out she slips it on and fluffs her hair looking in the mirror. She notes the crows feet by her eyes, the way her freckles are more prominent now in her forties. Looking at her hand she flexes her fingers for a moment. Taking a breath she slowly slides her wedding ring off setting it on the dresser.

When Melissa gets in her car she’s not sure where she’s going, but she knows she’s going into the city. Somewhere alive and lit up. Sticking her hand out the window as she drives she moves her fingers along the chilly night air, her ring finger bare for the first time in many years feels weightless against the wind. She can’t help but smile to herself, something she realizes is happening at random.

Driving through the busy streets she goes to an old haunt of hers not even knowing if it’s still open or not. In an old building on one of the bustling streets of Philly sits an old bookshop, The looking Glass, one that she went to many times in her college days and even after. Pulling up she beams seeing the store still there and the open sign on. She could go for a fireball hot toddy and a new book tonight.

Going up to the door a whiff of fresh books and coffee hit her, throwing her right back to her college days. Walking inside everything’s the same. The hot drink section with its bar behind it, the small counter on the opposite side holding the register and other little items for purchase, multiple seating areas, and of course the shelves and shelves of books so cramped together that if it were any other place it would be a problem. Melissa feels at home.

Walking past people she glides through the rows of books looking around and getting lost in her little chunk of paradise she hasn’t had in so long. Across the establishment behind the bar, you nudge your friend nodding towards the row of books the gorgeous redhead is standing near.

“Just your type. Good luck with that one.” He pats your shoulder as he goes to the back room. Looking across the room with a smirk on your lips you watch the redheaded stranger reach up for a book, her hair cascading down her back in waves. She was beautiful.

Across the room Melissa turns around book in hand, flipping through the pages as she walks up to the bar not bothering to look up until she’s standing right in front of you. “Hi, what can I get for ya?”

Melissa looks up with a friendly smile playing with the spine of the book she found. “Can I get a fireball hot toddy, hon?”

“Name for the order?” You ask moving around the work area, black warm cup in hand.

“Melissa.”

“Melissa, I’ve never seen you in here before.” You smile writing her name on the cup in gold flowy letters.

Setting the book down on the counter so she can open her purse, Melissa shrugs. “I haven’t been here in a long time.”

“I figured. I’d remember someone like you.” You smile making the drink and sliding it on the counter.

Melissa catches the comment and the way you’re looking at her, and feels a warmth spread through her. “I doubt it, hon.” She chuckles handing the money over for her drink.

“If you need another or just wanna have a riveting conversation, I’ll be here.” You gesture to the counter with a laugh.

Melissa looks at your name tag with a smile.

“Thanks, hon. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Moving across the room with her drink and book in hand Melissa sits on a sofa near a dim lamp, just far enough to glance up every so often to the woman behind the bar. Sipping her drink the warmth from the alcohol spreads through her chest giving her a comforting feeling she hasn’t felt in a long while. The woman behind the counter is stunning, and something about her eyes made Melissa feel something deep within her that she can’t place just yet.

Eventually, she gets lost in her book and before she knows it she’s more than halfway through it and the woman from the bar is gently tapping her arm.

“Melissa, we’re closing up.” You hum with a soft smile.

The bar is quieter now, people are heading out and the main lights are on. Melissa looks around the bar and begins to gather her things. “Sorry, I got lost there.” She chuckles.

“Don’t apologize, I would too if I were reading Jane Rules greatest love story,” you smile.

“You’ve read it?” She asks curiously.

“I have, it was a big deal for me in high school.”

“So when, last year?” Melissa teases making you laugh in return.

“No, more like fifteen or so years ago.” You hum. “Something about an older woman breaking free of a metaphorical cage and finding herself with the help of a wild younger woman always intrigued me.” You admit with a smile. “Let me buy it for you.” You offer.

“I can’t let you do that, hon.” Melissa shakes her head.

“Sure you can. I own the place, I can do what I want.”

Melissa looks at you in awe. You looked so young yet here you were with a business and a personality wise beyond your years. Before she can say anything else you’re already wiping down the coffee table with a rag.

“Wow. It really has been a long time since I’ve been here.” Melissa sighs. “Thank you, for the book and the environment.”

“You don’t need to thank me, just come in more often.” You smile.

And that’s what she does.

The next night Melissa makes sure her hair and makeup are to the nines, her jeans are tight, her nails are painted, and she may or may not spray on an extra shot of perfume. Standing in front of the mirror she fluffs her hair once more and takes a breath.

“Where are you going all dressed up?” Joes voice sounds from the bathroom, a rare thing now.

“Barb talked me into a book club.” She offers with ease. He still hadn’t noticed her wedding ring was off and he didn’t ask any questions- just how she liked it.

“That sounds nice. Have a good time.” He says closing the door.

It doesn’t take long for Melissa to grab her keys and make her way to The Looking Glass. Walking through the door there are more people than the night before given the fact it’s a Saturday night. The redhead can’t help but frown, a pang of sadness hitting her as she makes her way in and doesn’t see the woman from the night before.

Slipping through the crowd she gets to the bar looking up at the menu despite being ready to order her wine.

“Melissa!”

Across the floor near the back doorway the mysterious woman from last night appears.

“Hi, hon.” She lets out with a giddy grin, her heart leaping in her chest as you beckon her over with the wave of your hand. “I didn’t think you were here.”

“I’m always here.” You chuckle. “I didn’t think I’d see you again.” You admit with a smile as you lean against the side of the bar.

“Why’s that?”

“I dunno,” you shrug. “I overthink too much I guess.”

“Yeah, I know the feelin.”

“Come with me, I want your opinion on something.” You hold your hand out to the redhead.

Gently taking the younger woman’s hand Melissa feels her cheeks heat up at the simple touch. Walking to the back hand in hand she can’t help but feel butterflies in her chest.

“So it’s dark and cold now,” you start flicking a single hanging lightbulb on, “but I’m planning on expanding the sitting area to here. Less storage, but more room for pretty girls to browse through the books.” You smirk.

Melissa tips her chin up with a matching smirk meeting your eyes. “Do you flirt with all your customers this way?”

“No, I can’t say I do. Just the one I find incredibly beautiful.”

Smile not faltering, Melissa ducks her head realizing your hands are still entwined together.

“Careful, I might think you’re interested in me.” She chuckles lightly.

“And if I am?” You smile.

“I think,” Melissa whispers, her ringless hand still in the woman’s, “I’d like that.”

Everything Melissa knows goes out the window when she sees the look in your eyes. She thinks of all the shit Joe has put her through the last twenty years and how she can be happy if she allows that for herself. It’s what she desperately wants.

“I can’t stay long tonight, but I’d really like to talk to ya while I’m here.” She offers with a gentle squeeze to your hand. “If you can that is.”

“I can,” you smile. “Come with me.”

As Melissa is lead through the back room once again she gently squeezes the woman’s hand as they get to the office in the back of the building. It’s simple, a desk, a large couch, and of course a couple bookshelves.

“Make yourself at home,” you offer letting your hand slip away from the redheads, fingers brushing as you go to the small fridge in the corner. “Do you like wine?”

“It’s usually my go to. I bet you have the really good stuff.”

“I do, but this is regular stuff.” You chuckle taking out the chilled bottle. “I’ll have to break the good stuff out another night.”

“Already thinking about seeing me again?” Melissa grins watching her hands move. The lust she felt for the woman was something she’d not felt in her marriage in over ten years and she forgot how much she missed the warm feeling.

“Not to scare you off, but I haven’t stopped thinking about you since last night.” You admit handing her a glass of wine.

“Trust me, hon it takes a lot to scare me off.” Melissa was terrified of what she was doing, but she didn’t need to share that.

“Interesting.” You grin into your own glass. “You seem really mysterious, Melissa.”

“Private mostly,” the redhead shrugs. She’d always been private. Her family and connections were usually all she needed in her life, it even took a full year at Abbott Elementary before she let her best friend, Barb, into her life and that was ten years ago.

“So if I gave you my phone number could I expect a call from a restricted number?” You joke.

“No,” Melissa smiles fishing the device out of her purse, unlocking it before she hands it over. “It’ll be just a number.”

Taking the phone in your palm you type your number in followed by your name handing it back after you hit save.

“I haven’t done this in a long time.” Melissa chuckles nervously, so uncharacteristic of the hard exterior she presents.

Sipping your wine you lick your lips setting the glass down. “Someone hurt you pretty good didn’t they?”

“Yeah, you could say that.” Melissa offers thinking of Joes cheating and lack of presence. “I’m kinda gettin over it though.”

“Well, whoever they are, I feel sorry for them.” You smile as the redhead finishes her wine.

Melissa can’t help but duck her head a bit at that. “Thanks, hon.”

“Tell me about them,” you prompt leaning back in your seat.

Melissa sobers up immediately at the question. How could she tell a practical stranger, one she was incredibly attracted to, but still a stranger none the less, that she hated her husbands guts and wanted out before she got any older?

“If I answer you have to tell me something important about you.” She shoots back.

“Deal,” you nod with a smile.

“I-“ Melissa breathes out unsure of where to start, “My ex husband made me miserable. He cheated, rarely came home, expected all the cliche housewife cliche things.” She shrugs through the lie. Yes it was a lie, but not entirely.

“What an idiot.” You shake your head unable to break eye contact with the woman. There was something behind her eyes that you couldn’t yet place, but would soon find out.

“How did you buy this place?” Melissa asks breaking the tension.

“It was left to me. I started working here when I turned eighteen and I’ve been here ever since.” You smile. “The original owner helped me out a lot in college and when she retired, she sold ir to me cheap.”

“That’s amazing,” Melissa smiles. “I always loved it here and I’m happy to see it’s the same.”

“I do my best to keep it up and get more people in here. As much as I love talking about my job, what do you do?”

“I teach second grade.” She offers. During your back and forth, Melissa keeps that same look in her eyes and it only changes when she says she has to leave. It changes from whatever it was before to sadness.

“Let me walk you to your car?” You ask hopefully.

“Yeah, hon. I’d like that.”

Getting up you rest your hand on her lower back as you two walk out to the main part of the building and out the front door.

“That’s it there?” You ask with a laugh spotting a black two door truck.

“That’s me.”

“You get more and more interesting.” You grin as Melissa unlocks the truck. “I hope I hear from you soon.”

“You will, hon.” Melissa smiles while she climbs in.

“Drive safe.” You offer with a nod, settling your hands in your back pockets as you watch the truck drive off into the busy night. Turning around you go back into the bar with a smile knowing you met someone special.

Part 2

[an-idyllic-novelist]

Alastor with gender-neutral!reader Christmas scenario

warnings: established relationship, mentions of violence, ooc and fluff.

Inspiration came from @lbcreations-blog's holiday fic. The link will be here. Special thanks to @vikkirosko for giving me feedback on this segment before I posted it. Merry Christmas one and all! :)

Alastor could recall very little memories of the Christmases he had spent as a mortal. Time was a funny thing; it blurred, made your brain all fuzzy until all you can ever really remember are the people you had once loved. In the Radio Demon’s case, the honor of a preserved memory belonged to his mother. Recently though, someone else had been occupying his mind and creating new memories in Hell. You. His significant other. 

To celebrate the coming of the winter solstice and to bring some festive cheer to the Hazbin Hotel, Charlie thought it would be a wonderful idea to throw a little party in one of the ballrooms. Some decorations, good food and liquor, gifts. An ideal Christmas get-together, so to speak. You helped Vagatha with getting the supplies needed, and he just watched all of this chaos happen, occasionally helping when the princess absolutely insisted that he become involved. 

What caused the pleasant Christmas  jazz music around him to a screeching halt was the sight of a plant hanging over the archway leading to the main lobby coming from the elevators. And you were right underneath it, carrying a box of ornaments in your hands. Alastor definitely did not hang this up here, which only left two possible culprits: Charlie, or Angel Dust. Husk was busy minding the bar. Niffty is still in the kitchen preparing the food, and she knew much he despised being touched by anyone. 

Especially you. He told you as much in the early beginnings of your relationship, including how he would prefer to not engage in physical intimacy beyond hand holding because he did not like it. You always gave him a wide berth, respecting his personal space and being content with how things were, though sometimes…he knew you wanted just a little more. You just would not say it because you already knew he would refuse. 

In regards to this….scenario, everyone’s eyes were on him and you. Half-expecting him to give in and just give you a kiss on the cheek, or for you to take initiative and do the deed and be placed on his dinner menu. Neither of which actually happened. Alastor was fully ready to step away and forget about the entire thing until you smiled sheepishly, bowing to him and extending your hand to him.

“Care to dance?”

He felt the tension evaporate from his shoulders, replaced with a chipper tune and a round of applause from the audience. “Why, I’d be delighted, my dear!” Carefully lowering his gloved palm on top of yours, he pulled you to his body and swung you around to the trumpets of his shadows. His grin stretched as he watched you quickly catch onto the rhythm, laughing as he dipped you towards the ground, then back up and did a twirl. You spun around, breaking away from him and bowing to him with that lovely smile of yours. 

Oh, how lucky he is to have you, indeed~! 

Though if anyone were to try and kiss you under the mistletoe, he will remind them why he is in Hell.

Taglist:

@isuckatwritingsobenice

@thatstonedwriter

@aurora-rose-miller

@lbcreations-blog

@nunezs-stuff

@samoaz

@chroniccorvus

@myafterlifeisbetterthenyours

@crystalrose36

@nixie-writes

@doc-tooth

@angelltheninth

@violetsnowflake330

@ladykitsunesworld

@sillypenguincats

@food-theorys-blog

@theunknowntravel3r

[year2000electronics]

how does your reverse falls weirdmageddon go down?

GREAT QUESTION. full explanation under the cut! (this info can also be found in my reverse falls doc) tldr ford and will start weirdmageddon, the gleeful family goes through the ultimate challenge of realizing theyre a selfish and broken family, and they all work together with the rest of the zodiac to destroy will through erasing fords memories!

the dimensional rift exists, but instead of ford finding it, stan does. ford knows there should be a rift around somewhere now that his portal's been totaled, but he can't find where it is. this is frustrating.

ford wants to start weirdmageddon with will to become the most powerful man in the world. that's his goal after he came back.

mason wants to grow up too fast, mabel is afraid of growing up. (we know this from canon already) this is also coming off the coattails of last mabelcorn, where mabel gets called 'ugly' by the unicorn (it hits her twice as hard because mason and mabel's entire thing is being cute kids performing!)

in mason & mabel vs the future, ford takes dipper to crash site omega to try and build an anomaly detector. he treats it as mason's first sort of "real expedition" but in reality he's still trying to find where stan hid the rift.

ford offers mason an apprenticeship, but instead of the problem being "dipper would stay in gravity falls", it's "ford says that he would have to stop his 'telepathy twins' act with mabel because it's holding back his potential and is actually quite childish". (of course he insists mabel would do great as a solo act)

mabel hears through walkie-talkies (they use it to fake 'twin telepathy' sometimes), gets upset that mason is abandoning her, and runs off, but instead of blendin, it's will that finds her! will insists that since she's technically his boss, if she wants a little more summer, he has no choice but to do as she wishes. he explains he'll need the rift that stan keeps in his study. mabel sneaks back inside and is able to get to stan's keys thanks to stan being hypervigilant of mason and less so of mabel (due to his brother and all)

once she gets the rift to will, will SMASHES it, revealing that ACTUALLY, he works on FORD'S orders, and she's forgotten where she lies in the pecking order. weirdmageddon begins, she gets trapped in a bubble, and ford and will's deal gets broken because of will's newfound physical form (and now that time is dead, it's technically "the end of time!" so there you go). they agree to rule the world as partners

somewhat replacing the canon intro all the way to the part where ford gets turned to gold is ford and will running into mason, who ford invites to join him because "he sees great potential in him". mason looks up at his uncle being all buddy-buddy with a demon and literally ending the world and he realizes "this isn't the man i want to be." but hes too terrified to say no, but he doesnt WANT to say yes, so hes just kinda frozen there.

wendy bails him out, pulling him into a car she jacked and driving off. they take shelter in the mall which is where they find paz, gideon, reggie and robbie. they form a ragtag group of Apocalypse Heroes and mason explains he needs to free mabel from her bubble. they drive all the way out to the bubble but get ambushed by STAN

stan kinda takes gideons place in the role of weirdmageddon where he has a mad max troupe of road warriors, but once he sees mason in the group, he calls them off, revealing he only "joined" ford to save his own hide and is absolutely ready to ditch that idiot.

the gleeful family enters mabel's bubble as the rest of the gang stand guard outside

weirdmageddon 2 is very similar to canon, but mabel gleeful elects herself queen of mabeland and has a lot more of a "tyrant ruler" vibe. she throws mason and stan in the dungeon and stuff its great. mason and stan convince her that theyve all messed up and they need to Be Better... starting with mason not taking the apprenticeship. mason and mabel reunite and theyre ready to take on will and ford now

weirdmageddon 3 has the gang finding bud and hope (gideon's parents) trying to ditch town by driving away in an RV, but paz and gideon want to help their NEW FRIENDS THE GLEEFULS rescue all the other townspeople, and maybe try to talk some sense into ford? (stan is doubtful.) so they start gathering resources to head to the fearamid

meanwhile, the reverse falls equivalent to the penthouse scene is happening, which is basically just will and ford chilling out as ford slowly tries to hammer away at the barrier equation (he studied magic, not this! give him some time!) until will drops the ball that like. ford has charmed him into still loving him. that much is true. but he's like "i think we're a little beyond you being in charge of me, right? and im more than happy to keep you around... but i never said anything about stanley or those kids."

hes like, to fords face, "i am going to kill mason and mabel." and obviously fords like UHHH NO DONT DO THAT because theyre family? and he doesnt want them DEAD even if theyre below him! but of course, will is just reflecting ford's terrible attitude back at him that only the Special and the Worthy should be able to claim that success. and since ford was always only looking out for himself, this is the ultimate culimation of that: he'll be the one surviving gleeful.

ford protests against this but will starts sobbing that ford is getting cold feet and turns him into gold and thats where we're at by the time the gang gets to the fearamid with the GIANT BUD'S AUTO ROBOT.

they rescue ford cos hes part of the zodiac and he definitely seems a little shaken up as he agrees to hold hands and save the world. but stan is pissed OFF because ford has done nothing but threaten and belittle stan for the entire time hes been back so as theyre holding hands he lets a remark slip about it and then ford just cant help himself and goes "its not my fault im the better twin". cue fighting cue everyone getting turned into tapestries etc.

stan and ford, instead of pulling the switcheroo, agree that ford should goad will into entering his mind by saying he's solved the equation (since yknow reverse ford doesnt need a metal plate). ford does that and then they erase his memories like they do with stan in the original show. kinda the ultimate penance going on there, ford doing something that isnt selfish for once and actively harms himself.

world saved, ford gets his memories back, blah blah blah, the gleeful twins celebrate their 13th birthday and mason, mabel and ford all smash their magic amulets so that theyll never use them again

stan and ford become the new "telepathy twins" as now neither of them have any magic to their name and can bond by tricking tourists Together. meanwhile mason and mabel retire and do part time work at greasys

paz leaves town for the summer but promises she'll come back next year

will whines at the axolotl to give him a second chance and he gets chucked in the theraprism

[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

MORE Spider Society Headcanons

Halloween: Spiderween

First of all: DECORATIONS??????

The ENTIRE campus done up with jack-o'-lanterns and lights and smoke machines and COPIOUS AMOUNTS OF SPIDERWEBS for the Spooky vibes???!!!

Spider decorations EVERYWHERE. From October 1st.

There's a haunted house on campus - filled with volunteers AND REALLY REALLY good jumpscare holograms made by Lyla

The food court starts serving Halloween specific food. Like a Vampire Miguel Milkshake at McMiguels.

COSTUMES??!!! COSTUMES BUT OVER THE SUITS.

TRICK OR TREATING Some people stay home at their universe and people portal over for candy and they get to see a glimpse of your universe

Or you get to hop universe to universe dressed like a Spider-person dressed like a giraffe. And since it's Halloween, it's fine if a bunch of Spider-people are running around dressed ridiculous because so is everyone else on most Earth's, Miguel's like 'yeah sure okay'

BIG BONUS POINTS if they dress up like ANOTHER Spider-person but like... Still over the suit.

Like wearing the crappy costume Miles had over your actual suit and 'acting' like someone else.

And EVERY TIME you see someone dressed as you, or wearing the same costume -

You know what you must to do.

One year Hobie comes as Ben Reilly. All dressed up in punk but with a blue hoodie crop top to match . He spends the whole day wailing about the harrowing memories and crouching on ledges. Dramatically collapsing in people's arms

Is your Spidersona small? Imagine them dressed as Miguel. Walking around acting and irritated and fake angry and DOING THIS TO MIGUEL

Miguels like 'are you serious? Cut that out-'

"aRe yOu SeRiOuS?? cUt ThAt OuT'

(and Lyla's like 'oooo that was good. They sound JUST like you Migs')

Lyla being a very popular costume

A bunch of Spider-people wearing fur coats and heart glass and they just decide to spend the whole day being useless to Miguel.

Which LYLA ADORES SHE'S LOVES ATTENTION

They all lounge around on all the seats like her, some even in bob cut wigs, and they follow Miguel and trying to get selfies with him LMAO

The Lyla with the cutest or funniest Miguel selfie gets put in the Campus newspaper

MJs A POPULAR ONE TOO -

ALL the lazy Spider-people wanna throw a red party city wig over their suit and be like 'I'm MJ'. NO YOU'RE NOT.

Or some will even wear their MJ's clothes. Walking around calling everybody, Tiger. (Mayday gets the joke - they're supposed to be her mom - she thinks it's HILARIOUS and giggles the whole day)

Sidebar - can you image Gwen with a wig over her suit BUT LIKE under her hood??? SO SHE WOULDN'T LOOK BALD?? I'M SCREAMING AIRPOD LOOKING AHH

VILLAIN COSTUMES - Spider people dressed as Doc Ock over their suits, coming in with fish bowls on their head and going 'Look, I'm Mysterio!! Lol'

While the caged villains are looking at them like

('y'all mfers got a lotta nerve')

I bet some people get REALLY REALLY into it and go all out, designing everything to a T. (Like the perfectionist!pavitr)

Some friends even do joint costumes - WebSlinger makes a costume for Willow so they match. Hobie does all his costumes DIY and it's like the ONE thing on campus he participates in.

Because he loves the DIY spirit. And the chance to mock his bosses on company hours.

Goes ALL IN on him and Gwen's (he wants to match) costumes. Or maybe he doesn't participate cause-

What's even better is people 'Punkifying' their suit to be like Spider-punk is a popular costume too!!

They throw together their own vest and jeans and jewelry and boots. And follow Hobie around, hands in pockets, and they all act all cool and fake punk all day , Hobie hams up the act for the occasion

Hobie of course weaponizes this by annoying Miguel with his 'clones'.

Ten Hobies outside his office sturming untuned guitars REALLY badly and Hobies likes 'Keep it up you !! U sound great!!'

Miguel's office full of Hobies and Lylas, Last year Margo went as Jess and Jess was touched

Then there's some Spider-people that are broke as hell. But since they all have top tier humor they make the intentionally cheap or out of the closet costumes. that ends up being stupidly hilarious.

Like wearing boxes and drawing a Spider-suit on it. Boom - Lego Spider-man.

Sometimes people might wear their makeshift suit over their new suit. So like a Spider-person having this as their costume OVER their suit

And arguably the funniest of them all - having a really elaborate overdone homemade costume of a specific hero on campus, and everyone is like woah so cool have they seen you in it yet?

And you take off the costume mask... And it's just you... AS YOURSELF Like it's just the same mask underneath LIKE A HAT ON A HAT

THERE'S SO MANY POSSIBILITIES THIS JUST BRINGS ME JOY

But the ONLY TWO THINGS YOU CAN'T DRESS AS AT ALL-

Venom and Deadpool.

Venom is too risky. Deadpool is not allowed on campus and if THE REAL ONES seen they have to evacuate and deploy the capture team cause he gets too excited (you'd be surprised of what one man is capable of in the need of Spider-attention)

Anything else is fine though-

CAN YOU SEE IT ARE YOU SEEING SPIDERWEEN????? HUH

[bullet-prooflove]

Lifetime: Travis Wheatley x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @pear-1206 @keyweegirlie @nu1freakshow

Travis thinks about you all the time when he’s on the road. His dreams are filled with the taste of your honey on his lips and the sound of your ecstasy in his ears. You presence is nothing more than a memory when he’s on the rodeo circuit but those other girls, the belt bunnies, they don’t get a second look.

You’re the only person he trusts with the news that his condition has deteriorated, that he’s now in liver failure. It’s a wakeup call, especially for the man who thought that he was going to live forever.

“I’ve done everything you told me.” He argues with the specialist. “I’ve quit the drinking, changed my diet…”

“That’s just the way it goes.” He’s told in a sterile room with his scans hanging up on the wall for him to see. “Sometimes the damage is too great.”

He flies to Yellowstone that afternoon from Texas because he can’t stand another minute away from you.

“I’m dying.” He tells you as he lays tangled up in bed with you, his thumb ghosting over the apple of your cheek as he looks into your eyes. “The end, it’s coming quicker than I thought.”

He expects you to leave because this is a burden he wouldn’t wish on anyone. He’s going to get sicker, it’s just a matter of time. It breaks his heart because he offered you a future and now he’s ripping it away.

“You promised me a lifetime.” You whisper against this lips as your fingertips trace along his grizzled cheek. “I’ll take whatever’s left of yours.”

He doesn’t think he can love you more than he does in that moment.

You go on the road with him. You leave behind your home, your job, your life because you want to spend the rest of the time you have together loving him.

When you start to compete for the first time in three years, he’s exhilarated. He’s seen you race in Yellowstone, he’s watched you train the up and commers but he’s never seen you in your element. When you win, there’s a fire in your eyes, a passion that he recognises in his own heart. He’s never felt as proud as he does in that moment. He’s weaker these days but he’s still there to lift you down from your horse when you trot back to the paddock. He can’t express the joy he feels at the sensation of you in his arms as the crowd cheers.

“We should start telling people.” You say as you press a cold compress to the back of his neck after he spends the morning throwing up. “You’re going to have to stop soon.”

He knows you’re right but he can’t face that right now, once people smell weakness on the circuit you’re as good as gone and he wants to compete as long as he can.

It’s when he takes that fall that everything changes. One minute he’s in the midst of wrangling a calf in the centre of a televised arena, the next he’s waking up on the dusty floor in the recovery position, vomiting his guts out.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Rip demands when he wakes up in a hospital bed surrounded by brightly coloured flowers and helium balloons. He counts at least seven horse plushies littered around the room.

“You know why.” Travis says forcefully.

Rip sighs as he tucks his hands into the pockets of his jacket because yea, he gets it.

“I’m a match.” He says finally. “I got tested while you were out. The docs are getting it on the books as we speak.”

“Rip.” Travis says, his voice rough with emotion. “I can’t ask you to do that.”

He knows the repercussions of this surgery. Rip will be out of action for six months maybe a year. Travis has the means to weather that but Rip, he doesn’t.

“You always were a stubborn son of a bitch.” Rip says before he tilts his head towards the glass window. Travis can see you on the opposite side, your arms crossed over your chest as you talk to his doctor. “If you won’t let me do this for you, then let me do it for your girl, let me do it so that the two of you can live a long, happy life together.”

Travis can’t find a way to argue with that because that’s all he wants, more time, with you, with Rip, with all the people he actually gives a shit about.

That evening he calls John Dutton to his hospital room and they begin to make arrangements. Between them they make sure that Rip’s going to be taken care of throughout the duration of his recovery, no matter how long it may take.

It isn’t until the day of the surgery that Travis realises just how terrified of hospitals Rip actually is. He endures the checkups through gritted teeth, he keeps his gaze trained on the TV, switching the channels constantly in an attempt to distract himself. Travis, he’s an old hand at this shit by now, he’s spend the past year in and out of treatment but Rip…

This is the longest he’s ever been inside one.  

“I’m buying you a fucking horse after this.” Travis tells him as he tips his head towards the other man. “An expensive one, a stud. You’ll make four, five grand everytime the thing pops a woody.”

“I don’t want a fucking horse.” Rip tells him as he turns off the TV and gestures to the pony plushie nestled against Travis’s chest, Rip has a matching one that he keeps stroking his fingers over. “What I want is for you to marry that girl as soon as you get out of here.”

“Can’t do that if I don’t have a best man.” Travis remarks as he studies the cuddly toy once more. It looks exactly like his rodeo horse Crash.

“OK.” Rip tells him, tucking his own plushie underneath the crook of his arm. “You pop the question and I’m there, you just tell me where and when.”

Love Travis? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

Datura Pt 10

Summary: Stuck between a rock and a hard place, you realize what you have to do to ensure you and Rhys survive the Mountain.

Content Warnings: Character Death (not MC), blood and gore, canon typical violence.

Author's Notes: Sorry ya'll I got sick twice and then got hit with a massive case of writer's block. I think I rewrote this twice and stared at a blank Google Doc for like three days before I managed to get it to make sense. Thank you all for your patience! <3

Previous Chapter , Masterlist

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Every step back into the dark, the torches fewer and farther between, is both a relief and a pressing weight on your shoulders. Relief because you’re away from Amarantha’s cruel gaze, away from the leering stares of the crowd and your cousins; a relief because there’s a High Lord waiting for you to come back. You’d never admit it to him, but his presence is soothing, grounding--something you desperately need after the mess in the Throne Room.

The guards are in no hurry, unlike your initial removal from your cell; all four of them move in sync, having done this thousands of times. It must be a lot of work, tending to every person that Amarantha deems unworthy of her court--it has to be a lot, if the amount of locked cells you pass are any indication.

You keep your head to your chest as best you can around the collar, eyes pinched to avoid the constant change in lighting. They’ll adjust soon. 

It’s because you’re focused on not tripping that you don’t see the guards ahead of you stop until you slam into the back of one of them. You reel backwards, expecting to be shoved or punished for the stumble, but the guards don’t react at all. They remain frozen, staring straight ahead.

A glance at the ones behind you to confirm they look the same; it’s as if time has come to a halt.

“Um, hello?” You risk waving a hand in front of one of their faces, fully expecting them to grab your wrist and throw you, but they still remain unmoving. Creeping a little closer, you can see the glazed look in their eyes, like they’re suddenly not seeing. One of them has drool running down the side of his face.

“They can’t answer you.”

You jump with a shout of surprise.

A female’s laugh echoes off the walls, footsteps approaching, though it’s still too dark to see where it’s coming from.

“Did you really think we’d leave you here with Amarantha?” Dagdan sneers as he comes to stand between the first two guards. He leans an elbow against one of their unflinching shoulders.

You can feel more than see Brannagh take up the spot between the other two guards at your back. 

“You left with Tamlin,” you say. Maybe they really did get in your head and this is some terrible dream they’ve orchestrated to get into your memories. Despite the pain still throbbing in your skull from earlier, you check to make sure your shields are in place.

“The Throne Room sure,” Brannagh replies. “But the bitch is too busy having a temper tantrum to notice that her toy is even gone. By the time she figures it out, you’ll be gone.”

“Why? What do you want?” You ask, head spinning. They’d planned this. They’d riled Amarantha up on purpose to distract her from seeing them move you. They’d probably been in the guards’ heads from the beginning.

“As we told her,” Dagdan says, pushing off his perch to step closer to you.

You take a step back and bump right into Brannagh’s chest. Her bony fingers wrap around your arms and hold fast, her nails biting into your skin.

“Hybern wants you tested and ready, and I don’t believe for a second that you’re her submissive little pet.”

You focus on your breathing as pain prickles in your fingertips, your jaw, your powers itching to come out and protect you. One breath, and then another. You are in control here; you can do this, just like you practiced. 

“Amarantha took my powers,” you say.

“And yet, you still reek of them,” Brannagh hisses in your ear.

“I think that’s sweat,” you retort.

Dagdan grabs the chain still hooked around your throat and yanks, cutting off your air supply as it jerks your head upward. “You think you’re really funny, don’t you?”

You gasp for breath as the metal digs into your skin. “I don’t have any powers!”

In the time it takes to blink, they’ve winnowed you away from the guards, out the tunnels, and to the lip of one of the Mountain’s cave entrances, where Tamlin remains waiting. The light is so blinding you throw your hands over your eyes with a scream that makes the twins chuckle in amusement.

“We’ll be the judge of that,” Dagdan says.

Sunlight might as well be flames against your skin, the burning making tears stream down your cheeks, even through the protection of your hands. Amarantha would have been better off blinding you in one fell swoop, it would have been less painful than this.

Indifferent to your pain, or perhaps relishing it, Dagdan yanks your chain and drags you out into the sunlight for the first time in months. Brannagh drags Tamlin in a similar manner, the High Lord still silently following along. You’d imagined this moment a thousand different times, in hundreds of different ways; the feeling of sunlight, of the wind against your skin was foreign, none of your dreams could do it justice. And the crispness of the air, the lack of dirt and decay in your lungs, it was enough to make you fall on your knees and sob--you would have, if you weren’t still being dragged.

“We’ll get to the wall and Tamlin will show us the gaps,” Dagdan explains, though the High Lord of Spring gives no confirmation that he hears him. “Once we find a weak spot, we’ll put you to good use.”

You can’t let that happen. If they find out the truth, they will use it against you, and then Rhys is dead, but there’s no chance for you to make a break for it yet. Trying to keep up with the pace they set so you’re not being dragged is useless, it’s like trying to run and after being caged for so long, your body can’t keep up. The exertion and the heat makes sweat drip off your forehead, the collar around your neck slick with it as it scrapes back and forth against your skin. You’ve got no choice but to follow them until they get to the Wall, and maybe then you can find a way to get free of them.

The Mountain exit has deposited you somewhere in the heart of Spring, though you don’t recognize the blooming forest at all. It must be on the other side of the High Lord’s estate, where you’d never had reason to be. If Tamlin recognizes his woods, his lands, he gives no indication of it, his emerald eyes still glassy and unfocused as Brannagh drags him like a dog on a leash behind her. You’ll have to find a way to get him free of her before you break away from them, there’s no way you can leave him alone with her like that. Amarantha has already done enough to him, you can’t abandon him to Brannagh too.

They walk for a long time, following deer paths through the woods. Though they carry no map, it’s clear they’ve studied one before coming with the way they pick their way around. Brannagh complains about the mud the deeper you all go, but you savor every splash of it against your skin, relish every brush of bushes and vines and the faint song from birds somewhere overhead. It might as well have been a lifetime ago since you’d last touched any of these things, your world shifted to nothing but stone and rock. You’d savor this, stressful as it was, when you eventually have to go back into the dark.

Because you will have to go back.

Even if you find a way to get Tamlin somewhere safe, you have to go back to fulfill your bargain. If you run away now the magic of the bargain could very well kill you.

Dagdan slows as the path ahead splits in two directions and you lean against a large tree to catch your breath, the bark rough against your skin. The noise of your company makes a squirrel jump from its roost and run for cover a few yards away and you watch it with the fascination of someone seeing the world for the first time. How are you supposed to go back into the dark when all this sunlight and fresh air exits? How can you go back into the cramped space of that tiny cell, with nothing but the cold to greet you when there is this kind of warmth in the world? It’s not fair!

“It’s right, you idiot!” Brannagh snarls when her brother hesitates.

“No it’s not,” he counters. “The map said left.”

“It’s right,” Tamlin says, his voice lifeless and slurred.

The twins turn to stare at him for a moment, before Dagdan huffs, “You better not be wrong.”

Tamlin goes back to staring into the sky like he hadn’t heard the threat and you push yourself off the tree to get a better look at him. It’s impossible to tell if he really is just high and delusional or faking it at this point, but if it’s the latter, maybe giving the twins the slip won’t be so difficult. You try to shift closer to him, but Dagdan yanks you away before you get more than a step.

They’re separating you intentionally, it would seem, with Brannagh staying a few feet behind you.

You check your shields as you walk, then the glamor, just to make sure they hadn’t heard any of the plans in your head. 

The sun is high by the time the four of you make it out of the woods and into a set of grassy plains that stretch for half a mile before it meets a shimmering wall of magic. At the right angle it's almost invisible, save for a faint pink hue. The closer you get, however, the more your hair rises on end, the more the air smells sickly sweet from the magic used to hold the barrier in place. You’ve never been this close to the Human Lands before, and even though the Wall veils it from sight, you know it's just beyond.

“Ugh,” Brannagh says, crinkling her nose as you all pass through the waist high grass. “I can practically smell those human pests from here.”

Dagdan runs his tongue over his thin lips. “I’ve missed the fun we used to have with our pets, don’t you?”

You shiver under the implication in his tone. You’ve never met a human before, but they sound awfully fragile from the stories and you doubt they’d hold up under anything your cousins could throw at them.

“How close is the nearest hole?” Brannagh demands.

Tamlin slowly turns his head from side to side, golden hair flowing across his temples as he searches for the right spot. “About a mile,” he says finally, gesturing with his chin to the left of you. 

The Wall doesn’t look any different from where you stand, but you don’t know enough about the magic used to build it to dispute his claims. Neither do the twins, as they don’t question it, and drag the two of you along the path indicated until you reach the spot. It’s of no help though, because the hole in question is about the size of a fist, just big enough for you to crouch and peer into the forest beyond the magic barrier. It smells different from this side of the Wall, newer yet dead somehow, like there’s no magic at all beyond the barrier. 

“I should have figured you’d be stupid,” Dagdan snarls. Turning to his sister he adds, “I told you he was too pretty for his own good.”

You bite back a laugh despite yourself.

Brannagh yanks on Tamlin’s chain like one would a misbehaving dog. “I didn’t think I needed to tell you that we needed to be able to fit through it!”

“Oh,” Tamlin says with a shrug. “Then it’s the other way.”

And so, you go back the way you’d come, and further, to the next spot, larger than the last, but still not big enough for any of you to fit through, to which the High Lord insists there are more if you keep going further. It’s very much the same answer at each spot you find, making you walk back and forth until the path back starts to blur in your mind and the sun begins to set. It’s too dark to go back, especially with the growls of things from the edge of the woods rising to meet you, so they tether you and the High Lord to a large tree while they collect firewood to make camp.

You sink down into the damp earth with a grunt, legs sore beyond belief. It’s been too long since you’ve been able to properly stretch your legs.

Tamlin slowly lowers himself to sit next to you. “There’s a lot of boggie in this area,” he says, not looking at you. He keeps his gaze in the other direction, focusing on some bright flower bushes in the distance. There is no slurring in his speech anymore.

“So this was on purpose?” 

He grins, pleased with himself. “I’m not totally useless.”

“It’d be a shame if we accidentally caught its attention,” you muse. There is a fog starting to creep in, stealing the warmth of the day, hiding whatever monsters lurk in the depths of the woods.

“They’re not armed enough,” he adds. “It’d be quick.”

Too quick, but what can you do about it in the end? “Can you get us unchained?”

“I think," he replies with a wince. “You still got claws you can use, just in case?”

“Me?” You say with feigned ignorance.

He risks a glance to where the twins are bickering about something in the tree line. “You don’t think I believe Rhysand wants something to do with you out of the goodness of his black heart, do you?”

You bristle at the words, fangs threatening to slip out. How dare him!

“He clearly means to use you for something, and after that fight with the chimera, I think it’s pretty obvious that he wants to wield you like Hybern did your mother.”

“It’s not like that,” you snarl. Rhys is nothing like Hybern!

“Isn’t it?” He hisses. “Let me guess, he tried to befriend you, acted all concerned about your powers being untested and untrained? He offered to help you get a handle on them, makes sure to run you through all the steps because he’s concerned about your well being?”

He doesn’t let you get a word in before he adds, “He did the exact same to me.”

You run a hand absently over the bargain mark. Rhys was many things but he'd never stoop so low as to use someone like that. It's unthinkable.

“And when I realized how he’d manipulated me, when I stopped giving him exactly what he wanted, do you know what he did?” 

You watch the twins continue their argument into the darker parts of the edge of the woods to avoid looking at him.

“He killed my parents, my brothers. I am the only one left.”

That couldn’t possibly be true! 

“Rhys gets what he wants, or he makes your life a living hell for it,” Tamlin snarls. “He’s just as bad as she is, he’s just better at hiding it.”

You've managed to reign in your temper until that point. “That’s not true!” You snarl. “He’s nothing like her!”

Tamlin huffs a laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “He’s really got you wrapped around his finger, doesn’t he? I bet the second you get out of here and away from them you’d run right back to him.”

You stiffen, not because it’s not true, but because all day the only thing you’ve been thinking about is how you don’t want to go back. Selfishly, greedily, all you could think about was how unfair it was to have to go back, you hadn’t once thought about him.

“He’d do the same for me,” you whisper, hand pressed tight to the bargain mark because you know he would. Without a thought for how long he’d been underground, without a thought for how unfair it was that he couldn’t keep his freedom, he’d come back for you, fight for you. How could you be so selfish and abandon him, bargain or not?

“You can’t be serious,” Tamlin replies. “Why would he come back for you?”

The ink is warm on your skin, a living, breathing thing that doesn’t just mark you, it’s part of you. Part of him. It’s a living tether that flows between your souls, ties you together. It’s him, but it’s you, it’s…

The realization slams into you like a brick. You’d known it too, that morning when Amarantha had taken your powers, something had shifted into place and you hadn’t been able to place it. “Because,” you stammer as you brush a mental hand against that tether, the one that had linked your minds together from the start, that had allowed him to reach for you on Calanmai all those years ago. It had been so easy for him to find you, not because of his powers, but because of what was already there. “Because he’s my mate.”

Mate. Rhys was your mate. It was as if all your questions had clicked into place, why you were always so eager to be near him, and him you, why he’d been so back and forth in the beginning. He was your mate.

Tamlin rolls his eyes. “Yeah, ‘cause those are titles that mean anything.”

Shit. Your eyes go to Amarantha’s mark on his chest. “I’m sorry for everything she’s done to you.”

He growls, eyes flashing. “Bonds mean nothing. They’re just a way to make us animals that need to breed. They don’t guarantee protection or affection, it might as well be another collar.”

You glance over to where you’d last seen the twins. “So when they’re gone, will you fight her?”

“No,” he says. “I mean to disappear into the Human Lands and not look back.”

“But you can help stop her!” You persist.

“No one can, she’s too strong,” he returns, eyes now flicking to some noise his keen ears hear in the woods beyond you. “And if you’re smart, you’ll go too.”

You’d left your mate with Amarantha. “I can’t do that.”

He shifts so he can get a solid grip on your chains. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

There’s little time in between the moment he starts yanking on the chains, the branch they’re tied to groaning in protest, and the point when Brannagh starts screaming as whatever monster Tamlin had heard approaching finally makes itself known. You know the stories of the monsters Amarantha had unleashed on the courts, but you’ve never seen them for yourself, you have no idea what to anticipate. And truth be told, you’d rather not stick around to learn the truth. You help Tamlin grab the chains and pull until the tree starts to bow and bend under the strain. The chain is rough against your skin, tearing at your palms, but you grit your teeth and plant yourself firmly into the ground as you tug. Between the two of you, it doesn’t take long for the branch to snap off, the tree swinging wildly back and forth as the broken piece of wood goes flying through the air. Your chain slips free, flapping in the wind like a scarf as Brannagh continues to scream. 

Tamlin doesn’t stick around to see if they’re being eaten or not, as soon as he’s untangled from the branch, he takes off in a sprint back towards the Wall, to whatever hole is big enough for him to escape through and into the Human Lands. You want to be mad at him for being a coward, but truth be told, you can’t. After all Amarantha has put him through, you hope he can find peace.

You hear Dagdan draw his sword behind you, hear the metal clang against something with claws, but the woods are shrouded in the fog now. Brannagh's armed as well, maybe they’re strong enough soldiers to make it out alive. You’re not going to stick around long enough to find out.

You’re used to the dark, it’s comforting to have nothing but the stars overhead. It had felt like a disadvantage before, but now, now it feels like home. You take off in a full sprint, holding the length of your chain in your hand to keep it from rattling too hard and attracting attention. Tree branches and vines slap at your arms, face and legs as you run, not daring a glance back, and it doesn’t feel all that different from the dream that brought you out on Calanmai, though a few flowers leading the way would have been appreciated this time. You’re moving on instinct more than anything, back the way that feels right.

Soon you stop hearing Brannagh’s screams, though you’re not sure if that means they’re dead, or if they’ve won. You push yourself as fast as you can go, lungs and legs burning in earnest now. You’ve got to make it back, you can’t get caught out here.

The Spring Court is a blur as you find the fork in the road you’d come to earlier and tear down the deer path that should lead you back to the Mountain. Distantly, over the sound of your own ragged breathing, you can hear something moving overhead, a distant flapping sound that’s far too heavy to be a bird. Nothing ever comes into view though, so you do your best to stay in the shadow of the bigger trees as you push through the underbrush.

Cauldron you’re out of shape! You can’t help but stop, hands on your knees, gasping for breath. Sweat drips off the ends of your hair as you bend over, struggling to get your breath back. When this is all over, you’ll take up running, you vow to the Mother. 

Time's a ticking thing in your head and you force yourself to keep moving, even if you have to walk until you can breathe evenly again. A couple of steps is still movement in the right direction, still keeps some distance between yourself and whatever threats remain behind you. There’s a clearing up a head that you’ll need to be quick to get through unseen by whatever is flying around above you, you take care to get your breathing under control by the time you make it to the edge of it, and then sprint as fast as your legs can carry you.

It’s not fast enough. Something rock solid and incredibly fast slams into you from behind, sending you flying into the muddy earth with a breath stealing thud. Something with claws drags you up by the back of the neck, laughing, the sound a horrible wheeze of breath that makes your blood run cold. The Attor.

“Look what we have here,” it leers.

Your legs dangle off the ground, body limp in its clawed grip. “Let go of me!”

Darkness ripples in front of you, twisting like a vortex as it spits out the Evil Queen, fire wreathing her claw tipped hands. 

Shit shit shit.

She sharpens the flames into points, like twin swords in her hands and she stalks towards you, snarling. 

“Wait! Wait!” You plead.

“SILENCE!” She booms. “I’ve had enough out of you, you stupid little brat!”

You twist desperately to get out of the Attor’s grip, but it remains unmoving. If you can’t fight your way out, you have to be smart about this. “My Queen please, let me explain!” You can do this. You can make sure you get back to your mate in one piece, and maybe buy Tamlin the time he needs to escape. You all deserve to be free, there are no exceptions.

The playcatting makes her pause at least, so in a rush you say, “My cousins did something to my guards on the way back to my cell and they winnowed me out before I could even yell for help. I swear I wasn’t trying to escape.”

“Liar!” She snarls, but she doesn’t move any closer.

The Attor’s grip on your neck is bruising, makes your collar bite into your skin hard enough to draw blood. “They led us right into a bunch of boggies and I came back looking for help. Please, you have to save them, I think Tamlin is hurt!”

Invoking her mate makes all her reservations fly out the window. “Where is he?” 

“I can take you there,” you say.

Maybe you’ll fulfill your bargain right here and now and let her own monsters finish her off, or maybe there will be such a mess you can convince her that Tamlin’s dead and it’s no use looking for him. One way or the other, you’re buying yourself time, so you take them back the way you’ve come.

 Cauldron it feels like your legs are made of bricks by the time you stumble back into the woods. It’s a mess of gore and blood by the time you get back, Dagdan’s broken sword clutched in a hand detached from the rest of his mangled body. You vomit into the bushes when you see what’s left, what you and Tamlin have left them to.

Amarantha goes through the gore, kicking over the corpses of the monsters, searching for any sign of Tamlin among the bodies. You know there’s none, but there’s barely enough of Brannagh to identify, so you say, “Mother’s tits he was right here with them!”

The Queen remains rooted in a pool of blood for a long time before she throws her head back and roars so loud leaves fall off the trees. “My mate!” She wails. “My mate!”

You turn away like you can’t bear to look any more and truth be told, you can’t. Is this what you’ve become? You let them walk right into this trap without remorse, without a second thought, and they were dead. Horrifically, irreversibly dead. Their bodies as mangled as the chimeras you’d killed in the Pit, as mangled as if you had done it with your own claws. This was what you had been worried about in the beginning, this lack of hesitation, this easy decline into the monstrous death goddess your father wanted you to be.

And you’d do it again. It was not a question, you feel the surety of it in your soul. For your mate’s freedom, to fulfill this bargain and to be free, you’d do it again with no hesitation. You would play the monster over and over again.

“I do not smell him here, My Queen,” the Attor says as he sniffs around the bodies.

If his nose is that good he’ll be able to scent his tracks right through the gaps in the Wall. If she finds out he ran from her she’ll never let him have a moment of peace again.

“If he got away, where would he go?” You ask, pretending to look around for tracks. How long would it take for his scent to fade? How much time can you buy him with the Attor sniffing around like a bloodhound? 

“He would come back to me,” Amarantha snarls. “My mate would come back to me, he would know better than to go anywhere else!”

“But if he was injured, maybe he’d go to his manor first, for aid?”

Amarantha’s eyes are wild as she nods, panic clouding her judgment. Good, you can use that. “We should head that way, see if he collapsed on the way maybe?”

Her eyes narrow. “Yes, yes I should. You, little mouse, are going right back to your cell.”

Back to Rhys. It’s an effort not to run your hand over the bargain mark, as if touching it might open the bridge in your minds so you could at least feel him at the other end of it. It’s the Attor’s sniffing that keeps you from acting on your impulses. Could bonds smell? You think they might. You have to be careful, have to play up the roll you’ve stepped into to ensure that no one is looking too closely at your motives. You’ve already gotten two people killed tonight, have already been stripped of all your dignity and agency, what is a little more? You throw yourself onto your knees, trying not to think about the blood and gore seeping into your skirts, feigning panic. “Please, please, My Queen, don’t lock me back up again. Please! I want to be useful, I want to make up for my mistakes. Please!”

“You’re wasting my time!” She growls. 

The Attor grabs you by the neck again as she motions for him to follow, your skirts dragging through the gore as they set off in the direction of the manor. Despite her threats, she lets you be dragged along as she scours the ground for any signs of Tamlin. There’s none of course, but by an extreme stroke of luck, there is a wounded boggie crawling its way up the hill ahead of you, its blood trail hiding Tamlin’s lack of footprints. By the time it’s dispatched and she arrives back at the manor, the sky is starting to change colors, and you’re trying not to nod off.

Amarantha rips the doors off the manor when she finds it empty. “He can’t be dead! I’d feel it!” She insists to no one in particular.

The stone steps leading into the house look comfortable enough to curl up on and sleep. You give yourself a little shake to clear the thought away as the Attor says, “I’ll try and get a view from above, My Queen.”

Good, he won’t be able to scent Tamlin from the sky and he won’t be able to see him through the wards on the Wall. You’ve bought him a couple hours, you can do nothing but hope that it’s enough.

“Don’t return to me until you’ve found him,” Amarantha orders.

You’re swaying on her feet when she grabs your arm and snarls, “If I find out you delayed my search in any way I will make you wish you were never born.”

You nod, “We’ll find him, my Queen.”

She winnows you both, the empty swirling vortex flying past you before it deposits you back outside the mouth of one of the many caves. Dozens of guards are waiting, more chains in hand. Your hands shake at your sides at the sight of them.

You draw a breath, forcing yourself to not look at them as they approach. You were never really free anyway, none of you would be until she was dead and this Mountain was rubble. “What will you tell my father?”

One guard grabs the end of your chain, the other clamps a pair of binders on your wrist. But Amarantha grins as she says, “I’ll tell him they foolishly crossed you.”

“But I didn’t do anything!”

“Then it’ll be our little secret, won’t it, pet?”

----------------------------

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One Shot: A Small Favor

Tommy Shelby x reader

630-ish words (635 in Google Docs, give or take some final edits in Tumblr 🤷🏽‍♀️)

🔞 For implied sex and foreplay

I'm slowly easing back into writing, and this scene was inspired by #16 on this list of smutty prompts. The idea just screamed Tommy to me. Thank you for reading! ❤️

She sets her lipstick on the dressing table and admires her efforts for tonight: hair twisted into a low chignon, lips an enticing shade of deep red, eyes lined for subtle drama. Her black, off-the-shoulder gown skims the dangerous curves of her body, and diamonds sparkle in her ears and on one of her wrists.

There's just one thing marring the sophisticated look she was going for: an angry, purplish bruise on her collarbone. She stares at it in the mirror. It's not large, maybe the size of her fingertip, but it's all she can see now.

He approaches from behind, resting his hands on her shoulders and kissing her neck. “Is something wrong, love?” He traces a finger on one of her ears before gently nipping her earlobe.

“You damn well know the answer to that, Tommy. Look at what you did! I told you, not tonight! Churchill could be there!”

“He loves the arts, as I'm told, and certainly will be in attendance at the opera. And, lucky for me, the only thing that he loves more than arts and this fine country is a bawdy story.” He winks at her reflection and kisses her on the top of her head. “This one tells itself quite clearly, with no need for a single word of elaboration, yeah?”

“You already planned to meet with him, didn't you?”

“I may have offered to buy him a drink during intermission and meet my wife, yes… Did I not mention that?” He murmurs before sliding his hands up her ribcage, skimming her body just below her breasts, before cupping them in his hands over the fabric and grazing his fingers on her nipples.

She lets out a soft moan but quickly recovers. “No, Tommy, you most certainly did not.” She wriggles out of his grasp and heads to her closet, returning shortly to the mirror to arrange a floral-print scarf around her neck. But Tommy's handiwork from their earlier lovemaking refuses to be concealed, peeking out just below the edge of the artfully arranged silk.

She yanks the scarf from her neck and sighs in frustration before balling it up and throwing it at him.

“Oi,” he barks gently, as he often does when mildly scolding their children. He lets the scarf fall to the floor, grabs her hands, and pulls her close. “I won’t apologize for marking you up,” he says with a stern shake of his head. “Everyone should know you’re taken.” His gaze is intense, but there's still the softness of love to it, nothing like the unnerving, steely glare reserved for his enemies. “Everyone, including Churchill, should know you're mine, that Thomas Shelby, OBE, is a man who loves his wife passionately. He's no longer the fucking thug who dirtied his hands with whatever needed to be done, he's an MP who is uniquely capable of meeting the needs of his city, as much as those of his woman.” He adjusts the bowtie of his crisp tuxedo before whispering in her ear, “Now, if you forget about the mark and make polite conversation for a few short minutes, I'd be more than happy to fuck you in the car on the way home. I know you like that, love. I have very, very fond memories, as you do, to prove it. What do you say?”

She scoffs, but the flicker of desire in her eyes does not escape Tommy's notice. She might be a little embarrassed by the evidence of their time alone, but she never objects to feeling completely possessed by him.

“Fine. I'll play along.”

“That's my girl, he says, placing a hand on her lower back to usher her through the bedroom door. “Let's say goodbye to the children and go.”

[shsl-heck]

Thinking about the Chevalier interlude, specifically the inaugural team of Wards. Like in universe, they sell it to this first group of kids (and presumably the rest of the world) as a place for second chances, to find friends and mentors who understand what youre going through, where you can learn to use your powers safely while making good memories. The kids broadly seem to believe in these noble intentions of course, but what really gets me is that I've seen readers buy into it!

"Oh, it's such a tragedy that the Wards program became this awful thing that traumatizes kids even more, and expects them to die for the sake of civilians! It's fallen so short of what it was originally supposed to be!"

No it has not??? The fact that the triumvirate and Hero are saying it has this noble goal doesn't make it true. The Wards was pretty clearly always a way to increase the amount of bodies the prt could throw at threats, and we know this because it was started by the fucking Triumvirate as a part of the Protectorate! Alexandria literally came up with the idea of the Protectorate to legitimize the power of capes, and have a consistent source of heroes Cauldron could throw at problems. That is the whole reason for the PRT/Protectorate existing. So when we have this group of children brought in a subsidiary, there are 2 real options.

1). Cauldron and Alexandria decided they would be really niceys and created this program with no intentions other than helping these kids out.

Or 2). As things got worse, they realized the Protectorate didn't have enough manpower to do what they needed, and so they expanded it to include children (the demographic most prone to triggering). That way, they greatly increase the number of capes who they can send to fight and die as needed, and the ones who do survive their tenure in the Wards will be better trained when it comes time to join the actual Protectorate.

At the risk of sounding conceited, I think the second one is far more likely based on everything we know about Cauldron. Maybe it was originally a little nobler, and the goal was just to create more well trained heroes and cut back on young villains, but there's no way Alexandria, Doc Mom, and Contessa didn't factor in the ability to sacrifice the kid heroes if it improved their chances of success. That was absolutely a perk at minimum.

That's the real tragedy of the inaugural Wards. The kids were lured in with promises of safety, comraderie, and second chances like lambs to the slaughter. All the while, Alexandria and Cauldron knew that many (if not most) of these children would suffer abuse by the prt (like in the case of Reed), die, or face a fate worse than death like poor Mouse Protector. It's horrifying! The idea that they didn't know the danger these kids would be in is literally inconceivable. Especially when one of you is also the head of the prt! They knew, and they didn't care. It improved their chances at the end of the world, and so they did it no matter the cost.