#spent yesterday working then with family at a dinner I was not aware was for me

[alienssstufff]

happy birthday i hope you have a good one!!! 💗

Thank youuuu!! I completely forgot ^_^!

[selfaware-bungou-stray-dogs]

Is it perhaps ok to ask for a single father reader? Like his child is still young, like 2-3, and reader is kinda like Tanjiro and Ubuyashiki from demon slayer? I would really like to see all the characters but I’d definitely like to see Tecchou, Jouno, Atsushi and Chuuya the most, I hope this isn’t too much or bad

Single Father! Reader

Self-Aware! BSD Cast x Male! Single Father! Reader

Description: It was supposed to be another normal day. Until your phone start glowing.

Warning: OOC, English is my second language

It was 9 pm, when you finally get home.

Before entering your apartment, you take a few breaths and put a smile on your face. With a knock, you turn your keys and opened the door.

Immediately you heard a sound of small footsteps. A three-year-old toddler waggle towards you.

Mrs. Greenhill, sweet old lady, your neighbor, followed after them. You were Incredibly lucky, that she agreed to look after [K/N], while you were at work. You nodded at her.

"Good evening, Mrs. Greenhill"

Your crouched down and hug your kid.

"Hello, [K/N]."

[K/N] giggle. They hugged you.

"Daddy home!"

Mrs. Greenhill's voice was soft.

"[K/N] were a good kid today. They were well-behaved in a daycare, ate their veggies and draw you a picture, [Y/N]."

Your kid giggle again. They wiggle out of your hold and, after taking your hand, start walking towards living room.

"Gift for daddy! Look!"

You followed [K/N], but turn your head towards Mrs. Greenhill.

"Thank you so much, Mrs. Greenhill. Have I ever thanked you for..."

Old lady raised her head.

"Every day, few times a day. Don't be nervous, [Y/N], you aren't looking ungrateful. I am happy to help."

You smiled again.

It was hard to be a single parent. Your parents were against you keeping [K/N] and insisted on giving them up to adoption. When you refused, they cut all contacts with you. The rest of the family were either on their side, or ignored both you and them.

So, you and your kid were living in a small apartment, that you rented, and you were working from dusk till dawn to earn money on a dead end job (with minimal wage), so your kid can have a happy life. You, once again, mentally thanked Mrs. Greenhill for agreeing to babysit [K/N]. She was a true savior.

_____

🐾 As usual, you insisted on Mrs. Greenhill staying for dinner. As usual, after she left, you played with [K/N]. As usual, you two watch some cartoons, you read [K/N] a bedtime story and put them to bed. As usual, you prepared for tomorrow's day. As usual, you spent thirty minutes before bed to read some manga and play some games on your app. As usual, your phone glow white. As usual, BSD Characters appeared in your flat...

🐾 BSD Cast were expecting disbelief or shouting. Not heavy tired gaze, and "Congrats, [Y/N], you went crazy, what a pity...". And they didn't expect you to turned out the light and went straight to bed.

🐾 Next morning, you wake up because of delicious smell. Your yesterday's hallucinations were still here and they were cooking breakfast. What nice hallucinations. Or you are being robbed by a nice burglars.

And then you heard it. [K/N]'s voice. They were giggling. And giggles came from the kitchen.

You saw white. Without second thought, you ran into the kitchen. You grabbed first person who got into your way and growl.

"Let go of my kid!"

🐾BSD cast looked towards you nervously. Kunikida's glasses almost fall down from his nose, while he was trying to get away from your grip. Oda, despite looking at you, somehow managed to feed [K/N] a few more spoons of porridge. Your kid was giggling.

🐾 It took thirty minutes to calm you down. After that, BSD Cast finally explained, what was happening. And what they were planning to do next.

About how grateful they were. About wanting to live together, promising to make sure, that you and [K/N] will always have helpers and enough money.

And, if you don't want to stay with them, they promised monthly payments, so you could support you and your kid for the rest of [K/N]'s life.

Halfway through story, you noticed, that you were incredibly late for work. Well, you guess, you should start searching for a new job.

And then you heard Fitzgerald plans on paying you for your kindness.

...

The situation was too bizarre. You need fresh air. And a walk with [K/N] through the park.

You hopped, that you will think about, what to do next.

_______

🐾 The next few days were busy. You packed up all your things, officially quitted your job, says goodbye to Mrs. Greenhill and moved to a new house with your new friends (a.k.a. new uncles, aunts, grandparents and siblings for [K/N].

And BSD Cast start learning about new side of you. About Dad [Y/N]. And about being a big family.

_____

🐯 Atsushi act as older brother figure for [K/N]. He took it upon himself to pick them up from a daycare.

After realizing, how much you were doing for your kid and how hard it was, start respecting you even more.

📒 Kunikida is helping to teach [K/N] new things. Try to teach them about planning, but [K/N] asked "Uncle Kida" to play instead. [K/N] used puppy dog eyes. It was super effective.

🩺 Yosano is making sure, that [K/N] is healthy. And she is monitoring your health, to make sure, that all this month of overworking didn't cause any damage.

🌨️ Junchirou makes dessert for Naomi and [K/N]. He uses his ability to make [K/N]'s games more interesting.

👩🏻 Naomi took the role of big sister very serious. Makes sure, that kid are doing great.

🍵 Kirako took [K/N] to play with cats.

🛏️ Katai is finding computer games and kid cartoons for [K/N]. Monitor kids nap time.

🐄 Kenji is teaching [K/N] about farm animals and gardening. Immediately got a cow, so everyone could have fresh milk every day.

🐰 Kyouka is another big sister. She is a little bit more awkward, than Naomi, but she is doing her best.

🕵🏻 Ranpo is mischievous older brother. He is seeking candies for [K/N].

👘🗡️ You and him are members of Tired Dads(tm) club. Helps you to look after [K/N].

🪢🦀 Dazai is a fun uncle. He tries not to joke about ending his life near kid.

💉 Mori is another member of Tired Dads(tm) club. Buy your kid everything he can buy.

🍷 Chuuya is another fun uncle. He competes for kid's love with Dazai.

Respects you for being a young caring father. Ready to help you at any time of the day.

🌂 Kouyou became a mother figure for a kid. Helps you with tips on how to take care of a child.

🇫🇷 Verlaine is more distant uncle. He plays with kid and acts as a bodyguard for you and [K/N].

🎧 Rimbaud is another bodyguard. Will do anything for a kid, even play in snow during winters.

🏍️ Albatross bought at least dozens toy cars for a kid. Can't wait for a kid to grow up, so he can take kid on a motorcycle ride.

🧑‍⚕️ Doc is another doctor for a kid. Will make cast, so kid could draw on it.

🧊 Iceman is a quiet uncle. Will took kid for an ice cream, while uncles Chuuya and Dazai are arguing.

🗣️ Lippman will prepare kid for kids shows in a daycare/kindergarten. Will took thousands of pictures with mini-actor [K/N].

🎹 Piano Man is another guardian. Plays with kid almost every day.

🧥 Akutagawa tries to act as soft as he can near kid. Will be the one, who protect kid from bullies.

🔫 Higuichi is picking up cute outfits for kid. Wants to go to Disneyland with them.

🚬 Hirotsu is kid's grandpa. Takes kid for walks.

🔪 Gin is another big sister. Learn little dances with a kid.

🩹🧲 Tachihara is another big brother. And took his seriously. No one would dare to make kid cry in his presence.

🍰⭐⭕🚸 👧🏻 Aya, Oda's kids, Kyuusaku, Elise and [K/N] created a kids club. They play and have fun together.

💎 Karma is trying to look after kids. Often got sucked in their games.

🍋 Kajii will teach kid about science. He is very careful and only shows harmless experiments.

🍛 Oda is another member of Tired Dads (tm) club. Main babysitter for all kids. Very good at taking care of the kids.

💰 Fitzgerald is paying for everything. He also can't help, but cancel his plans, so he can play with [K/N].

🦝 Poe writes simple stories, so kid can practice their reading skills. Proud uncle, will treat everything kid wrote as a masterpiece.

🐋 Melville is another grandpa. Tells kid stories about sea and travels. Will play pirates with kids.

🐙 Lovecraft let kids climb over his monster form. He literally became a playground.

🍇♊ Twain and Steinbeck are taking kid on small"adventures". On a small works in forest, where they hide treasure chests with toys and candies.

☕ Lucy is another big sister. Try to compete with Kyouka for kid's love. Annie's room became a playground for a kid.

🪶 Alcott is quiet aunt. She is planning trips with kid, so they would be happy at the end.

👒 ✝️ Hawthorne and Mitchell control others, so they won't over-spoil the kid. Make sure, that kid are well-behaved and good.

😷 Pushkin read stories for a kid. Surprisingly nice and soft towards kid.

🫖 Goncharov prepares lunches for a kid.

🐀 Fyodor is playing cello for the kid. It feels strange, to hear cello cover of "Baby Shark" song.

🦇 Bram is another member of Tired Dads (tm) Club. Look after kid. Sometimes, will fly, while holding kid in his arms.

🤡 Nikolai is teaching kid magic tricks. Will always try to make him smile. Kid's partner in crime.

🃏 Sigma teaches kid new games. Shares cookies with them.

⚔️ Fukuchi is the last member of Tired Dads (tm) Club. Will be the one, who will deal with adults, who tries to make kid cry.

👧👩👵 Teruko is a spy in disguise. Will use her, ability to pretend to be a preschooler, so she can protect kid from bullies.

🌸 Tetchou will always gives kid piggyback rides. Will also play sports with kid.

Want you to teach him how to be as mentally strong as you are. You became his hero.

💧 Jouno is making sure, that Tetchou didn't overdo himself. Will play with kid hide and seek.

He thinks, that you are a very strong person. He will always remind you about your strength, when you became sad.

⛩️ Chief Taneda is another grandpa. Teach kid about different cultures.

💻 Ango play simple computer games with kid. Protective over them.

🥷 Tsujimura is playing spies with kid. Want to show kid her favorite spy movies in a future.

🕶️ Ayatsuji is making paper dolls with kid. He has a whole shelf of dolls made by kid in his doll collection.

👻 Mushitarou plays with kid. Plans to told them scary stories when they became old enough.

⌚ Gide keeps his distance. But he will be the scariest one (after you), if someone hurt the kid.

🐉🍎🍏 Shibusawa collects cool rocks and shells with kid.

🐈‍⬛ Natsume will play with kid in his cat form.

🤖 Adam became literal "robot-nanny". With Chuuya's help, he is becoming better and better.

[discount-shades]

Sleepy Baby Part 16

a/n: Only 2 parts left!! I love you all for hanging around to read this story!

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin / Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1400 ish

Summary: Jake struggles to hang a painting.

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“Down on the left.” You were standing back helping Jake hang a picture his grandfather had painted in your living room. “Down more… too much.” Jake shifts the painting back a little with a huff. “Perfect.” You grin at him as the two of you sit back on the couch. “I like that painting.” You snuggle into Jake's side and gaze at the Texas landscape.

“Thanks for letting me put it up.” Jake laces your fingers together and kisses the back of your hand. You hum in acknowledgement and loop his arm around you, returning the kiss to the back of his hand. 

“We’re getting married.” You can’t keep the grin off your face as you throw your legs over his. You had returned to San Diego yesterday and were still saying it every chance you got, the excitement lingering.  “Who do you want in your wedding party?”

“I’d like Javy, Rooster, and Bob.” 

Javy made sense, he and Jake were nearly inseparable, and despite all the bickering you could tell he was close to Bradley. “I didn’t know you were so close to Bob.” 

Jake shrugs noncommittally. “We’re all pretty close, plus I’d feel bad picking Fanboy or Payback and not the other.” 

“Ahh,” you say in understanding, “the schoolyard drama of Naval Aviators.” 

“You have no idea.” Jake chuckles and rolls his eyes. “You get along best with Bob.” His nudge at the real reason makes you smile and you lean forward to kiss him gently. “What about you?”

“I really only have Grace.” You shrug casually. “I was planning on asking your sisters.”

“We can just have Javy and Grace if you would like.” You smile at Jake’s willingness to change his plans for you.

“No, I kinda like the idea of your family being on my side.” You had spent a fair bit of time getting to know Jake's sisters during your trip to Texas and had gotten along well with them. “You think they will agree?”

“Definitely.” Jake smiles, “boom, first wedding plan done.”

“Evie as our flower girl?” 

“She would not let us get married unless she was the flower girl.”

“Engagement party here,” you continue, “wedding in Texas?”

“Done. Why do people make such a big deal about planning a wedding?” Jake jokes. “This is easy.”

“I feel like the difficulty is in the execution.” You reply, returning Jake's grin. His hand is on your hip and his thumb slips under your shirt and begins to stroke your side. 

“We should have dinner with Grace and the rest of the guys.” 

Jake’s suggestion makes you tense. You can feel the unease deep in your gut. A need to move, to walk away and avoid this conversation. Avoid the inevitable. Jake doesn’t say anything else. He doesn’t push. His only movement is to continue the gentle caress of his thumb on your hip. Constant, grounding, and reassuring. 

You give a jerky nod in agreement. You had told Grace about your past when she had questioned why you did not go home for the holidays during your first year working together. At the time your relationship with Jake had been too new to join him in Texas so you had joined Grace at her family’s dinner.

Beyond a casual invitation, that you always avoided following through on, neither had pushed to officially meet the other; they were both aware that you were keeping them apart. They had waved and met each other in passing but to your knowledge, they had never had a conversation. 

“She’s a part of your life.” Jake's voice is soft. “I can’t meet your family, but I want to know the people who are special to you.” You close your eyes and rest your head on Jake's shoulder, hands clenched together. His hand ghosts over your cheek, pushing your hair out of the way. 

“Yeah,” you take a deep breath and try to force your shoulders to relax. 

“Hey Kisses,” at Jakes prodding you look up. He has a little half smile showing off one of the dimples that you love, and his eyes are full of a tenderness that draws you in. “There’s not going to be any repeats. Ever.” He leans forward and kisses you, gently moving his lips over yours until you are kissing him back. 

“Ok,” you pull back and you finally relax your white knuckled grip on your own hands and cuddle into his arms. “It’ll be good, we’ll all meet and talk about wedding stuff. And everything will be fine.” You reassure yourself aloud in a voice that is strained, but when you say it, Jake gives you a little squeeze and drops a kiss on your head.

After a few moments Jake breaks the silence. “That painting is still crooked.” You glance up at the lopsided painting and begin to giggle and Jake gets up to fix it.

– – – 

Grace had agreed to be your maid of honour when you asked. She had given you a big hug and pulled you into her arms and whispered, “I’m so happy for you.” into your hair. 

When you had told her about Jake’s suggestion for dinner she didn’t react beyond squeezing your hand. “Who are his groomsmen?” You tell her their names and call signs while you are at it. “Are they cute? Are they assholes? Are they single?” 

“Not as cute as Jake.” Grace rolls her eyes at your response. “Bob’s ego is smaller than Jake’s and he’s easier to be around than the others, and Javy’s married.” 

“You like Jake’s ego and confidence.” Grace knocks you with her shoulder and you grin guiltily. Jake’s casual confidence in himself and your relationship is what drew you to him. 

– – – 

On the day of the dinner you can’t sit still. You had gotten ready early and now were pacing around the living room until you had to leave. Jake eventually grabs you and pulls you into his arms. “You good?” You rock your head back and forth in a non-committal motion. 

You trusted Jake and had no doubts about him but it was hard to overcome the anxiety you felt with Jake and Grace meeting each other. You had discussed it in therapy and knew it was a good idea and something you wanted to happen. Actually doing it was harder than talking about it. You were grateful there would be a group for the first meeting.

Jake held your hand the whole drive to the restaurant and through most of the evening. Everytime he would trace a heart on the back of your hand or XOXO you couldn’t stop the smile from breaking out over your face. It was a fun evening and beyond a rather intense argument between Bradley and Grace over the best ice cream place in San Diego, everyone got along. As the evening progressed you felt the tension slip away. 

At Javy’s insistence everyone exchanged numbers and a group chat was set up that included Julia and Jessie, who had both agreed to be bridesmaids. Bradley had been disappointed to learn that Jake's sisters were both in a relationship. 

Jake still had a slightly murderous expression as he stalked to the truck. “Jake, your one sister is married with a kid and the other is a lesbian. Bradley has literally no chance.” You try to calm him. “Let it go.”

Jake huffs like a toddler and you smile ruefully, wishing you had a brother like Jake. The drive home is quiet, with neither of you talking for most of it. “I’m proud of you.” Jake says eventually before taking your hand in his and kissing the back of it.

“What? For introducing the two people in my life?” He frowns at your sarcastic response and pulls into the driveway. 

“You know it's not just that.” His voice is soft as you walk inside and you turn to him. “I know how far you have come, and how you are this amazing, strong, resilient woman and how much you have done all on your own.”

You blink back the surprising tears you feel at Jake's comment. “Well I'm not alone anymore.” You say with a smile.

“And you will never be alone again.” Jake's lips caress your as his hands move over your sides and smooth your jacket off your shoulders as he guides you through the living room.

“That painting is crooked again!” You stumble slightly as Jake abruptly leaves your side, lips frozen in a kiss. You watch as he stalks over to the painting and straightens it again. 

“There,” he says in satisfaction. “Now where were we?” He returns to you, his lips travelling down your neck as his hands cup your ass, urging you to jump and wrap your legs around him before he carries you into the bedroom.

[windvexer]

Hagging Out: November and the Cessation of Candles

I became aware of Hagging Out last year when I was a mere child of 29. Although I've qualified for some months I've always been too shy to join. I'm glad I finally did.

The theme of this month is veneration. I had very little time to plan and didn't have any good ideas. I was stuck on trying to develop a tradition I could use year after year. Then I realized that my best course of action is just to get around to a lot of small things that I've been intending to do to venerate the important spirits in my life.

The most important of these things is quitting candles.

So, while at the grocery store yesterday morning I picked up a nice steak and got down to business.

This past year my practice has been localized around these two beautiful boxes of metal:

When it regularly gets past 110F/43C for days at a time in the summer - and you can only imagine the heat inside of a metal box - candles get funky. Jar candles escape their containers by migrating upwards like sea cucumbers. Taper and chime candles melt into rat kings.

I've had candles vent wax like volcanoes, glass containers explode, ants eating paraffin wax (why?!), the works. I realized a couple weeks ago that candles just weren't working out for me. But, fire and flame remains and important part of my practice. A couple of weeks ago I went to the store and picked up a couple of oil lamps, one specifically for the purpose of being dedicated to my spiritual family.

At around three in the afternoon I put veneration on my mind and started cleaning and organizing my altars.

I added a few talismans to my devotional necklace which were long overdue - this necklace is an important part of taking my faith with me throughout my day:

During my tending I went to visit the Rosemary bushes. I consider Rosemary to be an important spirit in my path and recently our relationship moved to a deeper place. While tending to the bushes, each one of them broke off a branch.

I knew immediately and without question that they were to become Creatures, each one to its own purpose.

When the preparations were finished, I cooked a lovely ribeye steak dinner and took it out to the trailer.

I called the spirits that I love and adore and spoke to them plainly about how much they mean to me and how deeply I value them in my life. I spoke about the oil lamp, dedicated it to all of them, and lit it.

I invited my spirits to taste the food through me and take its nourishment from me, and ate with them. Then, as intuition advised, I spent quite some time transforming the Rosemary branches into Creatures. I ended up blooding them - it's been a long time since I've blooded anything.

I don't know if my work with Rosemary was particularly on-theme for veneration, but it's been something I know Rosemary has wanted me to do for a long time. I am regardless thankful for the time I got to spend with my spirits and the chance to dedicate the lamp to them.

I got done just about when night set in. All in all, it was a good hagging out. I'm glad I joined in.

[dzpenumbra]

2/26/23

I didn't get a lot of sleep today. I woke up early. I think I had intense dreams, again, don't remember. I got up and was going to pass out in the comfy chair, but just decided to stay up.

I finally got a bookcase. It was delivered yesterday. I spent a big chunk of the day putting it together, and fixing up the old table I got from my brother and sister in law. So... for the first time since my move-in in mid December... I started to unpack my stuff.

For years and years, I lived in my old house with stuff still in boxes in the living room. Like... 80% of my possessions just sitting in cardboard boxes in my living room. I had 3 empty closets and tons of space to put stuff. And I just... I couldn't figure out why my house was so messy! And I couldn't figure out the subconscious logic behind the boxes.

Now... it's starting to make more sense. As I finally make deliberate different choices, the contrast is starting to make sense. I'm making this place my home. I'm settling in.

The irony? The bookcase that my mom got me is designed to be foldable... so that it's easier for me... when I inevitably move. Like... even she is subconsciously aware of this, and hasn't connected the dots on why all my shit has been in boxes for years.

Why would I unpack? I might have to leave overnight. I might get my financial funding pulled. I might get evicted. I might <insert PTSD disaster scenario here>.

I remember back in like... 2016? 2017? My former best friend and her husband were like... showing off their bug-out bags to me, and talking about how they were like... because of the "tension with China"? or something? Ready to dip out in a moment's notice. Well... I mean, they'd be able to dip out for like... a few days... The rest of their stuff would be fucked if they left it.

But me? The majority of my precious possessions would just need to have the box they're stored in taped shut and put in a vehicle. My entire house is a bug-out bag. XD And it has been for a very long time. Ever since I moved off my parents property.

I came back from college and moved into my parents' property, above a 2-car garage. I actually moved in there, I made it a home and everything. When my ex and I "decided" to live together... aka when I decided to move... I wanted to make that a home as well. I tried to. But I wanted to make it a home with her. Together. But she was... obsessed with "work". Obsessed with making money. Obsessed with being "productive". Obsessed with paying off these mysterious debts that she never talked about, never showed me, never... oh boy... big red flags there, eh? Well, you know... you try to be nice and not pry when people seem really anxious and insecure and uncomfortable... and they just really take advantage of that, don't they? Yikes.

So... I got her a job. Through family connections. A great job, at a cool place. And she spent all her time there, and like no time with me. And when she got home, she'd just go in the spare room that was supposed to be my art studio... but became reserved for her second work-from-home job. And she'd just go work a shift there. And I'd take care of the dogs, and cook dinner, and play games and watch TV. And we'd just like... never really do shit together. We would play games sometimes - Diablo 3, Minecraft, League of Legends, Starbound, Starcraft 2 - I taught her from scratch, she got pretty good. But she would get frustrated and just drop it after a while. Work always took center stage. Despite rent being completely covered for her. Despite all her bills being taken care of. Despite never discussing a plan and refusing to discuss budgeting. Despite me giving her basically all of my savings to help her pay off her debts.

I know that in the future, if I see that, I need to be more suspicious. It feels unkind to do so, and I really don't know how to be... careful? Self-protective? In a way that is respectful. In the sense that... I err waaaaaay too far onto the side of self-sacrificing, yielding, etc. Giving way too much benefit of the doubt. But I'm not going to crack that nut tonight.

Because of this massive rift she was creating, how busy she was intentionally keeping herself, we had less and less in common, less and less shared. That, combined with her odd paradoxical obsessions with wanting to stay in a relationship with me, but being obsessed with the concept of "independence"... she ended up enslaving herself. And blaming me.

I didn't deserve the blame. I was just trying to create a home. A life. A shared home. A shared life. (again, a goal that... apparently... due to her obsession with independence... she did not share and did not disclose.) I put the development of that home on hold until she was ready to participate. And the place was cavernously empty for like 2-3 years. Because I was just... waiting. Waiting for her to make up her mind. She started to rent her own apartment on the side, while "living" in my house. We would fight regularly and she would retreat to her apartment. That went on for months. If only I had a good friend to like... sit down and tell me that was... really not normal. And that what she was doing behind the scenes... was not worth giving her dozens of second chances for. That I deserved much better.

All the while, the majority of my possessions were being stored above my parents' garage, still waiting to be moved in. And... my mom started renovating it. And she told me to get my stuff out of there, but I didn't really have a place to put it. I didn't want the clutter in the main room to upset my ex or make the place feel like... like it wasn't a home. I didn't want to store my stuff in "our" empty, unused studio space, which eventually just turned into... her spare bedroom while we were mildly fighting. Barren, dark and haunted when she retreated to her apartment when the fights got bigger.

After the breakup, and a long mourning period because this breakup synced up with some very tragic deaths, I reclaimed my possessions from my above parents' garage. That's where the boxes came from. The dreaded boxes. That's when the boxes started.

A lot of my possessions were covered in a coat of drywall dust. Splattered with paint and stuff. It... sucked. It hurt. Like... my college degree was damaged in that process. Whatever an art degree from a state college is worth in fucking 2023. And it hurt a lot. And I blamed myself. I didn't really feel like I had a choice, and it wasn't my fault, I was the victim there... but... I blamed myself. I salvaged what I could, which was a lot. But I left a lot of it there, and I wouldn't be too surprised if it was just kinda gone now. Things with my family were... shockingly horrible at that period in time. Surreally transforming. I think it was mostly because of my older brother getting married, big life transition growing pain kinda stuff. People don't tend to really understand that even big good things can also be traumatic, it's all in how it's processed and what it does to you. And I really think that's what was going on there, and no one really knew what was going on? Why they were so upset and the world was really threatening all of a sudden? (spoiler: it was big change) And I, the middle child, the black sheep, the weird dude with tattoos and camo pants and a Parkway Drive wifebeater with a peace sign on it, barefoot with stupid cheap sunglasses and a short mohawk... I'm an easy target. I'm a skateboarder. It's really fucking easy to have your boss treat you like shit and just take it, have someone cut you off in traffic and just take it, have a cop give you a stupid ticket for no reason and just take it, and then find a skateboarder skating in your parking spot and scream at them for 20 minutes about how they're going to hurt someone and "that's fucking illegal!"

I wish I wasn't used to it.

ANYWHO. Big can of worms there we're not getting into tonight... XD

So, the boxes that I brought back from my old place, from above my parents' garage, that had been there for like... a year or so already? They stayed on the floor of my main room in my old house for... 3 years? Give or take? Maybe 4? Early Summer 2019 to... Winter 2022. 3.5 years, let's go with that, split the difference.

I got a lot of shit for my stuff being there. And... I never unpacked it. I mean, I did with some of it, but like... not all of it. Just what I needed at the time.

My home did not feel like my home. Because it was never intended to be my home. That was never the plan. And I tried to make it my home. Especially during the pandemic, after I got off meds. I turned the old haunted workspace into an art/streaming studio, which was tremendously emotionally difficult and subsequently liberating. I made sure my dog knew very clearly that the futon mattress that my ex used to sleep on in the spare room was 100% hers (my dogs, that is, not my ex...), but I was going to nap on it with her sometimes because I wanted to be close to her. I reclaimed the space. The best I could.

And it was a house. But it was not a home. It wasn't my home. It was someone else's home that I was living in. And they lived on the property. And they were just... biding time until I left. Completely unaware of the severe water damage to the walls from shoddy construction. And I have no idea how they were unaware, because they were literally picking up pieces of rotting wood falling off of the walls when they were mowing the yard. But that, also, is a story for another day.

This apartment. It's... hard to tell what it is to me. Is it a transitional space? Is it... dare I say... home? At least for now?

I had no problem making a space a home for my dog and cat (who I miss so, so dearly every day), I have no problem making a space a home for a partner. Especially if it's a task we do together, building a home together. Good lord, that's an absolute fantasy of mine. I've wanted that for so long. But, apparently, I have a problem making a home for myself.

I have no problem making a home in Rimworld. Or in Minecraft, I've made tons of homes in Minecraft, and they're all very neatly organized and designed really cool and everything. I can actually see them in my head right now! The one I made in a snowy pine biome, the A-frame with the big floor to ceiling glass windows looking out over the valley. The farm house by the beach on the old modded server I played on with my ex-friend from Florida and his dad, with a big Chisels and Bits roof, and a deck looking out over the big corn and cotton and strawberry fields. With the huge sprawling dirt roads that stretched to a small coastal village with a marble train station with Chisels and Bits stained glass windows in it. The beach house I made in my last Valhelsia Vanilla world... then the starter house and the 2-story farmhouse and the massive wheat fields and Create windmill that I expanded to later... on my short lived but long-payed-for 2-player multiplayer server. Fort Saiga, with it's giant hedge maze inside the perimeter of the walls, that I built with my friend who lived in North Carolina back in like... oh good lord... this had to be... 2012? There was even a home that I built into the interior second floor of a gigantic Aztec temple that I built on the multiplayer server where I was a Mod and met my ex-Florida friend. So many homes. I'm not even going to get into Rimworld. I've almost hit 4k hours in that game. Countless homes.

So I can make a home for myself. And I enjoy it. But... I don't.

Because life is not secure for me. It's not predictable, it's not safe. I might have to pack all my shit and move in a week. My life has just... been that. That's my best guess. That's the closest I can get to unraveling this mystery right now. And I'm sure... like the mystery of my ex hiding her expenses and normalizing renting an apartment while in a live-in relationship... in about 5 years time I'm going to look back on this and see it clear as day. So here's a message to Future Me. Hi. You're kinda lucky. It's pretty spooky to be in this place. Not really knowing why shit is happening, big blank spots where there should be answers. Having all the data in front of you and not being able to piece it together.

I guess that's just... life. Right? Like... that's the point of learning, right? XD I mean, it's so damn simple but I don't think people really think about it. I hear shit like that a lot. "I don't know how to play guitar, so I'm never going to learn how to play guitar." What?! XD That's literally how learning works. I mean... no one can just... Matrix jack download information directly into their brain, it just doesn't work like that. Even if you could, you would lack context. That information would sound like gibberish, you wouldn't have the hands-on experience to apply it!

I fixed a piece of furniture today. I was warned that the legs of this table were wobbly, and the drawers were sticky. They were not wrong. I made the error of attacking this problem first, then assembling the bookshelf second, which was an error because... I didn't have a hex wrench. I always lose them. And the bookcase had one in it the whole time. Apparently people are just using the most annoying, easy to lose tool on the planet as the standard hardware now... I mean, it makes sense, it's a good design, lots of leverage, less risk of stripping screws, I get it... but hex wrenches hurt the hell out of my hands and I lose more of them than I do socks. Just sayin.

My point here is that I flipped this table over and studied the parts. Legs attached by screws with a washer and a metal ring, for spacing I guess? A wood corner piece that it screws through to hold the leg in place, on all four corners. Hex screws on all of them. So I took the legs off, checked the metal sockets on the legs to make sure they weren't loose or wobbly, seemed legit, and then screwed it back in and used pliers to get them firmly tight. That's where the hex wrench would've come in handy... Then I removed the drawers, studied the construction. Basically a piece of wood tacked to the bottom with a slot in it, and the corresponding puzzle piece attached to the table itself. I inspected the inside of this lock and key kinda mechanism and saw a lot of... some kind of residue built up. Could be anything really. So I spent a good amount of time getting sandpaper in there and just... sanding and wiping the gunk out of it. The best I could. The part attached to the table itself was easier than cleaning out the slot, but I did a pretty good job. Then I just put them back in, made sure they were aligned right and... ta-da. Not really good as new... if I actually manufactured new wooden parts for it, I would absolutely say so... but... much improved! Very stable, the drawers slide fine, don't stick.

All it took was an inquisitive mind. And a willingness to make mistakes. And to learn from, and fix those mistakes. That's all. And I learned a lot today about that, I feel much more capable of taking on other furniture projects now. Assembling the bookshelf after that felt like putting together legos compared to troubleshooting something without a manual or instructions. You know? It's a completely different experience, a different way of using your brain.

So... I guess I'm kinda hinting at... well, kinda more than hinting at, I'm kinda just saying... Maybe it's okay for me to not fully know what the deal with the boxes and making big messes everywhere is about. I'll find out in time. That doesn't mean... stop looking. That doesn't mean "never learn guitar". That doesn't mean "I'm a messy person, so fucking deal with it." It means... I don't know now because I lack that perspective. But I might in the near future. And it might teach me a lot about how to improve my life even more. It might just be a blind spot for me.

That said, I think I started to open the door on that realization today. And the ironic part, I had a live stream on most of the day of this pair of bald eagles nesting in California. Here, I'll share the link, I've been visiting a bit.

As I was sorting my stuff, putting some in storage, putting others in a more... accessible, intentional space on a bookshelf... I was kept company by a family, in their home, with their expected children. It was heartwarming, and I think encouraging.

I got a lot done, about half of the main room is in much better shape. My work space is coming up next. And my new computer desk should be arriving soon to herald that next phase of home development. My whole computer and work space is shared right now, and it's incredibly cramped. The new desk will be wonderful for computer and music stuff, writing and maybe even some drawing. Then art projects will happen on my drafting table. For now... until I can get a table that's a bit more sturdy, that ideally has a pegboard or built in tool storage included.

Until then? I'm going to have a massive pile of art supplies and tools just chillin on the floor within a reasonable arm's reach. Which... if you've ever met me in the wild - which you haven't because I'm a hermit... but... let's just use our imaginations here - is kinda just my natural state of being.

Hey, check that out, I don't even have to reset the vibes at the end of this. :) It's been a while! Have a good night!

[teacherintransition]

A Masterful and Graceful Performance

“Wisdom is where you find it.”

Buddha: The Great Teacher

“Joy is cool whenever it comes…even if it’s watching squirrels.”

Brent: The Teacher in Transition

Less than a week into our sojourn to Georgetown, Tx and it’s been pretty damn eventful. We were invited to a dinner party with my oldest son’s oldest friend, met some great people and enjoyed a great dinner. I got to hang out for an afternoon with an old classmate and his son and talked long into the day about music. An irritating cold has afflicted me to the point of being miserable every waking hour. Several commissioned art projects have been done in our “office/studio.” Oh yeah, an army of squirrels lives behind the house.

Yes, you heard me …an army, a herd, a menagerie of little rodents with furry tails. I ****ing love squirrels… they are cute as hell and entertaining to watch. Gentle reader is probably thinking, “how do squirrels fit into a series of articles about changing one’s life and getting the most out of said life? Be patient oh eager readers, they fit in …oh yes, they fit in quite nicely. I’ve always hunted up to ten years ago; but I was never obsessed with it like some of my rural, rustic acquaintances in East Texas. My first “kill” was a squirrel that I shot with a bow and arrow. (Don’t be impressed…it was totally a luck shot for a nine year old kid) A squirrel also played a part in one of the trippiest experiences I’ve ever had without chemical assistance. While I was walking in the woods at the age of fourteen, I kid you not, a squirrel hopped up to my feet and reached it’s little squirrel hands out to mine and we spent the next few minutes interacting. It was then that I was convinced that squirrels have a soul and they would no longer be my hunting prey. As mentioned previously, I laid off of hunting about ten years ago; but the little guys had a hook into me.

With a musical flourish, we go to yesterday on the back deck of our current digs. The herd and I are sitting out back taking a break from chores, art work and laundry when the silence is broken by the rustle of underbrush in the wooded lot between the house and a local elementary school. This patch of woods doesn’t imply wilderness, oh nae I say. In Alexandria, La, we lived in the city; in Granbury, Tx, we lived out in the rural areas with a big pasture out front; here in Georgetown…it’s the burbs. Thus this wooded area is the home for dozens of suburban squirrels. It’s filled with big, old knotted oak trees making perfect homes and scurrying paths for these little guys. Btw, these are the biggest damn squirrels I’ve ever seen…like cats running around tree limbs…awesome! Before long, a ballet of rapid, graceful leaps from limb to limb that defy gravity takes center stage. I mean it’s mesmerizing…quick agile turns, death defying leaps, climbs that challenge gravity as they reach the tops of trees, followed by scurrying runs down the tree resembling falling! My dogs were in on it; running the length of the fence with an excitement that seemed to scream, “we want to play!”

I was glued to this spectacle following the squirrels like they were pinballs and then …the hawk came and landed menacingly on a nearby limb. The movement stopped suddenly and the patch of woods became eerily quiet. With tension you could cut with a knife, it was all broken when every squirrel broke from their hiding places and ran to their nests and to safety. Bravo! Bravo! It was a great performance that I was fortunate enough to see because I was willing to slow down and take the time …to…see.

Ahhh, you see what I did there; I snuck in a little knowledge. When in the career raising family world, it was rare that I would take a moment to take in the actions of nature that detracted from the race of stressful obligations that fill our life. As I got older, the awareness of time racing past me started filling my mind and I started to become aware of the power and immediacy of the moment. Taking in the extra …stuff…allowed me to become aware of all of the magic that happens around us and by doing so, time was able to slow down, to become more meaningful. Don’t be impressed…I lifted these tasty tidbits of wisdom from the likes of Thích Nhất Hạnh, Buddha, Scott Shaw, Dali Llama, Simon & Garfunkel etc..etc. Slow down…don’t let one or a couple of stressful events overwhelm you with anxiety; immerse yourself in the abundance of sensory perception all around us. If you can do that, your problems will seem much smaller. Wisdom is where you find it; even if you find it among squirrels.

[mysticalrambling]

Hey there😄😄I hope you're doing fine....I love your fanfictionss just too much and *adorable addition* is just my top favorite atory of yours😍😍😍. Yesterday you said i could make a request too so i was wondering if you can take in a request??😅😅 which is a Steve Rogers x reader request, which I had in mind for a long long time...I have made this request to some authors before but some of them never responded or just weren't interested in writing it so you can too decline but hear me out please😅😅... Ok so here goes nothing....

**Steve and reader being in an arranged marriage and steve is very rude towards the reader and would blame her, that due to their marriage he is not with peggy and how she irritates him, but still the reader did sweet things for him, made him food, tried to make him happy and tried to make their marriage work...but one day when she has enough of all the hurt, she stop doing stuff for steve and starts ignoring him..and also steve sees that peggy didn't love him but only his status as Captain America and was happy with someone else..then he realises his mistake and felt bad for treating his wife poorly...he tries to make up things with her but she now ignores him...His team members berate him for ignoring his wife and he gets jealous seeing someone else making a move on her.....and now he has to work his ass off to win back his wife...And can you end it with a happy ending and can it be long also? please🥺🥺

Arrange Marriage (S.R)

A/N: Thank you so much lovely and I loved the plot line. I loved writing about it and I made a few additions to the story. Hope you like it and I am open to more requests.

Steve Rogers Fanfiction (Fanfiction Master List)

Summary: Steve and you are married because the government wants Captain America to be a family ma. Steve is not happy with the arrangement and thinks he is in love with Peggy. You try to make your marriage work but he insults you every chance he gets. However, everything works out eventually.

Warnings: Angst but eventual fluff.

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"I prepared some dinner for you," You spoke out when you saw your husband rushing towards his room. That's right, his room. Even though you were married for about a month now, you have never been in the same room for more than ten minutes.

"I am not hungry." He was quick to dismiss you and went straight to his room. You just looked at the muddy footsteps that were the only evidence that Steve was here. He was on one of his missions with your dad, Nick Fury. Your step dad, actually, because he rescued you from one of hydra base camps when you were eight years old. Those times were something that you have repressed in your mind and you would never think about them.

A few tears escaped your eyes when you kept all of the untouched food in the fridge which you spent hours preparing. You understood that you were not your husband's first choice but you both had an obligation to try to make it work. But lately, it was like you were all alone in this relationship and you felt so worthless.

Wiping the tears away, you made your way to the master bedroom because you had enough. If years of therapy have taught you anything, it is that no one had the right to make you feel that way. "Come in!" His pissed off voice filtered through the door and you took a shaky breath before entering.

"Hi. I just wanted to say that I prepared all of your favorite food and you didn't even look at it." You spoke timidly.

"I told you I was not hungry." He said from the changing closet and came out in his sweats. Looking tired was something not new for Captain America now a days and everyone at work was also starting to notice the change. "Why are we pretending to be like a normal, married couple?"

"Why can't we be one? I am trying here." He looked anywhere but at you because he knew that he would see those damp eyes. That was enough to make him feel guilty and he wanted to prevent that.

"You know why. I am in love with Peggy." The most hurtful thing that your life partner can say to you and Steve just did without taking your feelings into account.

"Then you could have said something before we got married." Panic was slowly setting in because you realised that you were stuck in a marriage that is never going to work out.

"The whole government was pushing me towards this marriage and Peggy was still not ready for that kind of commitment. I was stuck with you." Steve knew that the statement hurt you the moment the words escaped his lips. This was a revelation that rocked your world. And not in a great way, might you add. "You could have rejected the proposal."

"Do you think it was that simple for me? Dad has done so much for me and this was the one thing that he asked off me so I did not refuse. I thought that you agreed to this marriage and we could work it out in the future." Those dreams were being crushed right now and you knew that this marriage was doomed. It was like a hit to your gut and you felt caged in this room with your husband.

"Well, we can not." Leaving the room, you went straight to bed and cried yourself to sleep because there was nothing else you could add to that conversation.

After sometime, Steve came out of his room and made his way towards the kitchen. Opening the fridge, he took out the food to heat it up and realised that you made all of his favorite food. He was never going to admit it but he loved your cooking. Every night he comes in to the kitchen to eat all the food that you prepared for him. However, he realised that you didn't eat any of the food so you probably went to bed hungry. The guilt was eating him up and he felt helpless because he wanted to think that he didn't care about you. But sometimes, you don't even realise when a person is warming their way into your heart.

"Do you want to watch a movie?" Steve was home today and you were going out of your mind with boredom so you thought of asking him for some company.

"I am not in the mood." He was quick to dismiss the idea and turned around in the hallway while still scrolling through his phone.

"I just thought-"

"You thought nothing. Why are you so clingy? I told you I do not want to work on this relationship. You are the reason that I can not be with the love of my life. Please just leave me alone.” He rudely interrupted you because he was not in the mood to interact with anyone. Seeing a picture of Peggy on instagram, he became aware of the fact that he could not be with her because he is a married man now.

Peggy Carter had been the first person that he saw when he woke up from the ice after 40 years. She helped him to become Captain America and she was the most important person in his eyes. Those few months were really difficult for Steve but she helped him get through them. Peggy quickly became his girlfriend and when the councilmen wanted him to get married, he was quick to propose. But she told him that she was not ready to take that step and she backed off. He was still pining over her and it was not fair to blame you for everything but he needed to do that to make himself feel better.

“I am sorry.”

“(Y/N)-” You left before he could say anything else. There is only so much a person can tolerate.

Over the course of a few days, Steve noticed that you were indeed leaving him alone. You were not there to welcome him home when he got back from his missions and give him a massage even after he told you not to. You did not cook from him anymore and he really missed it. He loved the fact that you always made his favorites and you never even had to ask him. You haven’t talked to him since the night he yelled at you. Guilt was an emotion that he often felt whenever he saw you.

“So there is a charity event that we both are invited too. It’s black tie optional.” He leaned against the door as he watched you doing laundry.

“Okay, I will be ready.” These were the only five words that you have said to him in the past two weeks and they were not enough. He has missed you and your conversations. The house was too quiet now a days and he didn’t like it one bit. But he was too stubborn to be the one to break the wall.

“You have to wear a dress. Many people will be watching you because you are Captain America’s wife so please do not go with your sense of style.” He wanted to slap himself in the face when he saw you freeze. Why couldn’t he just have said something nice to her? Steve didn’t know how to talk to you without messing it up.

“Okay.” Sighing, he left the room and sulked in his bedroom for the remaining day.

You were never going to say it out loud, but you were really hurt by what he said today and that day. None of it was your fault and you have been thinking about ending this marriage. However, the thing was that you made a commitment and you were never the one to back out from things. You quickly finished doing the laundry and went to take a shower.

“Are you ready?” Steve fixed his bow tie before you opened the room and he was left speechless. You in a red dress with a slit running through the side was a side of you that he had never seen. So bold and outgoing.

“Yes. Just let me quickly apply my lipstick.” Watching you apply a red lipstick left him in a trance. His wife was truly something unique but he just ignored it. Shaking himself out of it, he thought about Peggy and how he loves her. You both left afterwards and the car ride was quiet with the exception of a few stolen glances.

‘We have to go hand in hand and smile for the red carpet.”

“Okay.”

You were always a little scared to walk in to these kinds of events and so you tightly clutched on to your husband’s arm. Steve knew that you were a little bit of an introvert so he squeezed your hand in response.

“I am going to go meet some councilmen.”

“I’ll be by the bar.” Making your way towards the makeshift bar, you ordered a martini and just sat there mixing your drink. On the other hand, Steve made polite talk with the councilmen and then excused himself to the washroom. He heard someone mention his name on his way to the washroom and that piqued his interest.

“Come on, I was never in love with Steve. He was my assignment from the S.H.I.E.L.D and that was it. I had to help Captain America adjust to this life.  I love you, Oliver and that is a fact.” Steve quickly left before he could hear anything else.

Honestly, he couldn’t believe that all those months spent with Peggy were just a lie and he was ruining his marriage because of her. He thought that it would hurt a lot but it was kind of a relief. He was now realising that he was never in love with her. It was kind of an obligation for him because he thought that he somehow owed it to Penny. But he didn’t and now he can finally give his marriage a fair try and not feel guilty about it.

“So what is a beautiful girl like you doing at a bar all alone?” Turning around, you saw Bucky with a smile adorning his face.

“Hi. It’s been such a long time since I last saw you.” You hugged your friend because he was one of the people that you were close to. You actually missed him in these past few months and were glad to see him right now. Getting in to a conversation was way easier than you thought.

“Hey Buck. What are you doing?” Your husband was quick to place his hands on the small of your back and you silently choked on his intimate gesture.

“I am fine, Stevie. Just catching up with (Y/N).”

“Oh okay. Would you mind if I take my wife to the dance floor?”

“No worries.” Silently taking you to the middle of the room, you both got to dancing and your breath hitched when he was so close to you right now. His cologne had taken over all your senses and you were drunk on him. God, it was pathetic but you could not help yourself.

“I want to try to work on our marriage.” You didn’t know if you were hearing things right now so you muttered a silent, “Come again.” He silently chuckled and repeated the sentence again. Looking at him, you stopped dancing and left the room.

“Why did you leave?” He found you at the balcony just staring at the stars with your hands wrapped around yourself. “It’s freezing.”

“Why? Why would you say something like that?” You whispered silently.

“I mean it. I want to try.”

“Don’t you love Peggy?”

“I have realised that I didn’t love her. It was like an obligation to me and I like you.”

“I can’t do this. You insulted me every chance you got and you made me think so low of myself.”

“I know and I am so sorry for that. I will spend my life apologising to you for it. Please, give me a chance.” There were some tears in your eyes and everything was becoming blurry.

“I can’t do that. I will always be your second choice.”

“No, you are not. Trust me, I have had feelings for you but I have been trying to repress them from the very start.” He tried to touch you but you took a step back.

“If we try this relationship thing out, will you promise me that you will tell me when you want to get out. We can get divorced right then and there.”

“I don’t want to be divorced and I will spend my life making it up to you.” He was quick to kiss you and it was way better than your wedding ceremony kiss. “I like you, (Y/N).”

“I like you too, Steve.” You went in to kiss him again and were glad that this marriage was going to work.

Hope you guys enjoyed it!!

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A/N: I love Captain America and I was happy to write a fanfiction about him. If you guys have any more request, I will be happy to write about them and message me if you want to be added to the tag list.

Tag list: @kalopsia-flaneur, @justile 

Like, comment and reblog.

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[jujubean90]

Alright ya'll, I was driving to my mother-in-laws yesterday and saw a lot of pretty lights for the holidays. Got me thinking about Porco, Reiner, and Marcel. They live rent free in my head as does our imaginary relationship.

Marcel

You won't get rest during the holidays with him. There is always an event like a parade or catching the ballet for the Nutcracker Suite for you to attend.

If you have kids, he will be involved in their holiday plays or concerts.

Expect this man to wear sweaters for days during this time of the year. They are always extremely stylish too. However, my man here brings home gold for the office "Ugly Sweater" competition almost every year.

Encourages everyone to wear matching PJ sets during the Holidays for great pictures.

The organizer of the neighborhood Holiday decorating. Like, gets super competitive about it too with other neighborhoods.

Doesn't go all out with his own home for decorating and prefers Farm House Chic as his Holiday Aesthetic.

Shopping is done early and he definitely participates in Black Friday/ Cyber Monday. This man has a game plan for it too.

Prefers a traditional Holiday dinner and is the master of cooking the perfect turkey and ham.

Will buy gifts based on what he thinks you need and trust me, this man pays attention to the best electronics and appliances for bettering your life.

Family Holiday cards are a thing and he sends them to EVERYONE.

Loves to go ice skating with his significant other.

The perfect gift for him would definitely be an expensive wrist watch or his favorite cologne.

He is also a sucker for cozy socks and stylish ties.

His favorite thing is cozying up by the fire with hot chocolate while the snow comes down outside.

He is not a fan of holiday movies unless it's something he is watching with the kids. Prefers to spend time focusing on one another.

Buys educational toys for kids.

Explores all holiday traditions to make the kids universally aware of other cultures. This man respects the holidays so much.

His volunteer work during this time is spent doing food drives, toy drives, and monetary drives for hospitalized children.

If caught under the mistletoe, it'll be a gentle peck, but you better believe when you get home he'll show you just how naughty he can be.

Fluctuates between Santa's nice and naughty list more than you'd think.

"Baby it's Cold Outside"- Favorite Holiday tune.

Porco

This one is chaotic during the holidays. He has a lot of ups and downs. Some bah humbug moments are common.

He is always in competition with Reiner and Marcel. He hates how Marcel always has everything in order during this time and he hates how Marcel just takes control of everything, including family functions.

Accidently stands under the mistletoe and blushes stupidly because he's embarrassed about being kissed in a cheesy romantic setting.

So, when Marcel says we need matching pjs, he obliges. However the day of, he will have a different color of the same set just to piss him off.

Porco doesn't cook during the holidays. He is definitely one to buy something premade and bring to the party. However, he binges on holiday cookies.

Will hate watch Holiday Movies with you. He secretly gets soft about the romantic ones. One time he teared up and said he just had something in his eye, but you knew what was up.

Likes minimal decorating and honestly gets annoyed with how Reiner brags about his house being the best on the block. He gets even more annoyed when Marcel talks about his neighborhood.

Loves to walk around the park with his significant other.

Snow ball fighting champion. Like, takes it so seriously and gets everyone upset because he will hit them in the face on purpose.

Enjoys going snowboarding and having a little private time in a mountain chateau.

LOVES being around the fire place or fire pit this time of year.

Last minute Holiday shopping and does not do Black Friday. Although, he does get a few things for Cyber Monday. He cannot stand how Marcel brags about getting his shit done early. He also doesn't stress about it like Reiner.

Taco night for a holiday dinner is perfect for him. He doesn't understand why Marcel insists on traditional shit because that's boring as fuck. Especially since he often has to do the fucking dishes after Marcel cooks.

Part of the Neighborhood Watch and gets more active around this time. No one is breaking in and stealing Holiday gifts on his watch.

Expect a new jacket and boots from Porco as a gift. He might throw in a nice bracelet, but his whole thing is clothes. If it is one thing this man is keen on it is purses and satchels for his s/o.

Porco is super supportive of his kids during this time of the year and often embarrasses them because he wants everyone to know "THAT'S MY BABY! RIGHT THERE! BEST KID EVER!"

If he is buying for kids, he will get the most obnoxious fucking toys.

Porco loves jackets, even though he has his tried and true favorite. He also LOVES designer wallets and shoes. The man has more shoes than most women. Boots, sneakers, all of them.

Gets mad about saying Happy Holidays and will stubbornly promote Merry Christmas.

The only thing Porco contributes too passionately this time of the year is a coat and clothes drive for the less fortunate. Like this man goes all out by getting the schools his kids go to involved, his work place even his neighborhood.

Also more of an animal person than a people person so he is out there making sure feral cats and dogs have shelters from the cold.

King of gag gifts and always has a prank to pull. Definitely on Santa's naughty list.

"Sleigh Ride"- favorite tune.

Reiner

This man takes the Holidays SO. FUCKING. SERIOUSLY. However, he puts it all on himself and only wants his S/O to rest or do weekend fun things.

Like, he doesn't want you to stress. He's the one stressing. Not you.

Impulse buys holiday gifts for everyone. Accompanies Marcel for shopping but quickly dips after the first store because he can't handle the crowds and chaos of people.

Prefers to do late night shopping when people are at home.

HE LIVES in the kitchen this time of the year. Bakes all the time and is honestly better at cooking than even Marcel.

He is the stay at home house husband so, you better believe there is always food.

Fanatic about outside lights and while Marcel wants the best neighborhood, and Porco doesn't give a shit, he wants the MOST AMAZING house.

Drags Porco out to help him despite Porco complaining. Marcel gets involved too and it becomes a shit fest but you end up mediating because Marcel is good at leading everyone but these two.

Reiner prefers the house to look like the Holiday section took a giant shit on it and well, there's décor everywhere. Prefers traditional décor.

Completely loves Marcel's matching PJ idea and helps with the cards.

Is the one who sews the holiday costumes for the kids plays while Marcel creates the scenery and back drops.

HEAD OF THE PTO

His kids are spoiled rotten and he will buy the most expensive shit.

However, buys traditional wooden toys and stuffed animals and says Santa brought them because he doesn't want his kids to make others feel bad about what Santa left at their house.

When the kids are little, he plays Santa and comes to the house on Christmas Eve to give toys.

Agrees with Marcel about expanding knowledge of the holidays and will read a variety of Holiday kids books to the young ones before bed every night.

Expect gifts of comfort items and spa time from Reiner.

He will also be the KING of jewelry for his S/O.

LOVES getting new button up shirts and cuff links. Also a tie man. Him and Marcel also compete over who has the best tie.

LOVES when the kids craft things and his entire office is just full of stuff they've made.

Volunteers at a soup kitchen during this time of the year too.

Drives around for hours with a car full of kids to look at Holiday Lights.

Hums Holiday songs starting in mid October and continues up until Christmas.

Snowman building champion.

Will stand under the mistletoe on purpose. You better kiss this man. It'll be hot and passionate. He doesn't care if it is an office party.

At the top of Santa's Nice list.

"The Christmas Song" is his favorite. You know the one, "Chestnuts roasting by an open fire." He slow dances with you to this one.

[keijifairy]

big little things 〃

♡ kageyama, nishinoya, oikawa, iwaizumi, bokuto, akaashi, atsumu, osamu, suna do that show how in love they are with you.

genre. fluff fluff fluff

warning. kinda spoiler for timeskip! bokuto

author’s note. hi,, im so sorry for promising to write but not writing :// i hope this disgustingly fluffy thing will make up for it as a late thank you for 400+ followers!!! aaaaa what 💗💗💗!!!!! 

+ writing this was super fun but also kinda upsetting bc sum of these are inspired by real life love stories wow </3

༘ kageyama frozen by your door with a painfully awkward smile and an assortment of wildflowers in his grasp is truly a sight to behold. before he picks you up for a date, he plucks flowers from the park near his house and shoves them into your hands with an incoherent compliment he exclaims (along the lines of “your face looks pretty”, you realize when he mumbles it the next minute and looking at anywhere but your face). you accept them with a giggle and return the sentiment with your lips brushing his cheek which blossoms into a deeper shade of red. hinata doesn’t believe that the rigid boy with a volleyball for a brain could be a sappy romantic like how you describe him to be.

༘ nishinoya is well aware of your sweet tooth, which is especially fond of chocolates. packs upon packs of the tiny chocolate kisses you secretly pop in your mouth during classes are stashed in his fridge, backpack, and even in the pockets of his uniform as a result. “it’s for emergencies,” he assures you with a proud grin whenever you find yet another family bag of hershey’s somewhere near him. you didn’t guess that not getting a particularly good mark on a test or homework piling up as the days pass were the so-called emergencies he proclaims: when your shoulders sag and your feet shuffle on the ground without a thought, the taste of chocolate lingering in your lips come as a surprise. his favorite laughter finally reaches his ears and nishinoya can’t help but gift you with another of his own chocolate kiss.

༘ oikawa is stubborn, incredibly so, but he’s only doing his best — even tries to push himself past his limit. it’s no surprise to enter the gymnasium to the thud of the ball as it hits the ground and you observe how strands of his hair stick to his forehead while his heavy breaths fill the room. you offer to help, to wait for him until he’s had enough—for too many to count—but he only flashes you a grin and lightly urges you out to the door every single time. oikawa couldn’t bring himself to focus if he watches you jolting awake every now and then instead of resting after bearing the weight of school — though he worries either way. with his phone leaning against his bag, he initiates a video call that gives you the perfect view of the boy jumping in the court through your screen as you make your way home. 

༘ iwaizumi has never gotten used to the ridiculous amount of nail polish you have collected ever since the both of you settled into your own home. he looks back and forth between your face and the small bottle of polish in your hand with his lips pressed together. “do you really need six bottles of blue?” you scoff and correct him for the nth time about the exact name of each color and end it off with a “none of your business, haji.”, causing him to narrow his eyes at you in concern with an exasperated sigh. quite ironic of him, acting so bothered and all, when you catch him watching a “how to build a nail polish shelf” video the next day.

༘ bokuto still calls one of his teammates every wednesday morning to inform them that he would have to miss practice, and atsumu still snickers on the other end of the line with an, “again? are ya sure yer not just slacking off?” wednesdays are scheduled for your doctor’s appointments, after all, so bokuto always makes sure to make it up to the other guys by doing extra drills or staying another hour the next day because he doesn’t intend on missing a single meeting. hospitals and clinics aren’t places you enjoy and you don’t feel comfortable talking with the doctor on your own, but you don’t worry too much — especially with bokuto seated beside you, listening intently to their words with his thumb rubbing circles on the top of your hand. his presence alone is enough to ease your anxieties. (his teammates don’t have it in them to be mad, only thinking about how whipped bokuto is for you).

༘ akaashi knows the moment you open the door with your eyes trained on your shoes that the day hasn’t been the kindest to you. he approaches you in quiet steps, taking your bag from your hands and placing it on the couch. you think the way his hand holds yours so delicately is enough to make you cry as he guides you to the bubble bath he had prepared at the right time, as if his sixth sense had told him of what you were feeling. the scent of lavender oil lingers in the air, and the flickering candles cast a soft glow throughout the room; it’s a comforting silence, save the occasional sniffles that tone down as akaashi gently scrapes through your scalp with shampoo. when the suds of soap are rinsed off of your body and he caresses your cheeks with the pads of his thumbs in the comfort of your bed, sleep crawls into your eyes as a “thank you, keiji.” falls from your lips. he only kisses your forehead in response.

༘ atsumu takes tentative sips on the cold can of cherry cola you offer to him every day. it’s the only drink you purchase at the vending machine during lunch period and what you grab when you two stop at the convenience store for movie night snacks. he doesn’t bother to buy himself one, as you immediately nudge the can on his cheek as soon as you open it. its taste is something he could never get used to, but he swallows it nonetheless, only to convince you afterward that he couldn’t finish it on his own — and of course, he teases you, just like in every opportunity he grabs when you’re simply minding your own business and completely unaware of the trick up his sleeve — and always, you’re left stumbling over your words as you stare at him in shock? embarrassment? offense? perhaps a bit of all of them? but he does know that “that was an indirect kiss just now.” of his and your adorable reaction make cherry cola worth it.

༘ osamu comes home in your arms with drooping eyes and a worn smile. his words are almost incoherent when he mumbles them on your shirt, eventually turning into snores when you tell him to at least wash his face. owning quite a famous shop with the best onigiris in town (your words and his) can be hectic; with the day spent molding countless onigiris and tending to every customer, that ends with his arm limp on top of your waist. with your own work to deal with that occupies almost the rest of your days, there would be no room to breathe with just the both of you — but with osamu, it’s not like that at all. the soft sizzling from the kitchen wakes you up to an empty space beside you and your stomach’s quick to grumble in anticipation. the shop opens early, but osamu doesn’t leave until the both of you start the day eating at the dinner table and talking about the events of yesterday. it’s no doubt he’s still exhausted, so the small gesture of waking up early in the morning to cook your favorite breakfast and the gentle hum that greets you when you wrap your arms around him is enough to make you full. 

༘ suna must be obsessed with you! might be the first thing someone would think when they get their hands on the boy’s phone. his gallery is a gold mine: full of images and videos he takes of you in unknowing times that he has definitely used for blackmail at least twice a week. nibbling on your pen with your eyebrows scrunched when you attempt to start homework, cheek squishing on your pillow as a line of drool slides down the side of your mouth, clutching your stomach and throwing your head back because you’re wheezing too much over something he said, and plenty more embarrassing moments you don’t like looking back on are what fill his storage space. he refuses to delete even a single one, despite how blurry they come out or how you complain about how ridiculous you think you look. suna is obsessed with you — you would know if only you notice how he stops after he snaps a photo, with a small adoring smile that disappears as soon as it comes before he teases you to no end. 

[buckyownsmylife]

daddy issues - chapter xiv

The one where Ransom doesn’t feel ready to become a father, but he should have thought about it before sleeping with a complete stranger.

When Ransom’s latest one night stand lets him know that he’s going to become a father, he finds himself looking for the qualities he never believed to have so he can become the parent he never got to witness as a child.

for general warnings and author’s notes, please go to the fic’s masterlist.

A/N for this chapter: this chapter’s coming to you unedited because I am honestly emotionally exhausted and the only reason I even got this done is because “playing” with these two makes me happy. So yeah, I’m officially stretching the story a bit more (next chapter is the one I’ve been referring to for a while) and after it we’ll be pretty close to the end!

Y/N’s P.O.V.

Ransom had been a weird mixture of nervous and excited ever since he picked me up from work after visiting his grandfather. I knew they had a good relationship - from what I gathered, it was the only truly peaceful relationship he kept with his entire family - so I didn’t understand what the anxiety was about until he admitted, almost blurting out, “He asked me to visit the publishing house with him tomorrow.”

It was impossible to contain my smile. “That’s great, honey! He really does trust you, huh?” But Ransom didn’t even nod, just kept looking at me with eyes filled with a heavy emotion I couldn’t name, so I tried to occupy myself with other stuff.

“What time are you leaving? Do you want me to book a car to take me to university or will you still be able to give you a ride?” When he didn’t immediately answer me, I raised my gaze from the pile of essays in my hands to check on him, and the moment our eyes met, he seemed to snap out of whatever it was that was keeping him immobilized.

“No, I should be able to take you. Don’t worry about it.” I wasn’t worried, but I knew Ransom enough by now to be aware that he wouldn’t relent, not wanting me to go to my workplace without him, so I just smiled.

“Okay, babe.” The petname escaped my lips so easily, I froze when my own ears processed it, but I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. Out of the corner of my eye, I could still see Ransom’s frame paralyzed where I had left him, so I just focused on my work and pretended like nothing different had happened.

“I should be up in a minute.” I tried to act as nonchalant as possible. I didn’t look at him again, but I saw him nod from my peripheral vision before turning around and leaving towards the staircase, allowing me to breathe deeply again. What the hell was going on with me?

Ransom’s P.O.V.

She never came to bed when she did decide to call it a night. Well, she did stop by my bedroom, but chose to remain by the threshold until I caught sight of her figure, and when our eyes met, she smiled and wished me a good night.

I sighed when I realized that I was going to have to sleep alone. I didn’t like that, I didn’t want it. But there was nothing I could really do about it. She wasn’t my girlfriend, she was just the mother of my baby. At least to her own eyes.

Having her so close and then seeing her pull away was tearing at my heart, which is why when I got up in the morning to find her in the kitchen, breakfast already made while a packet waited next to my plate, I felt like I would physically melt.

“What is this?” I asked, already reaching out for it. I opened and checked to find a few sandwiches - homemade - before she could confirm what my eyes were seeing, but I was still struggling to process.

“I-I fixed you a lunch bag. I don’t know how long it’s going to be with your grandpa, didn’t want you to starve.” I just stared at her, unblinking, while this warm feeling spread over my chest, even turning me on.

Because I understood what this was. I understood what she meant by this. This was her, recognizing she had taken two steps back yesterday, and compensating with a gesture that moved us even closer to where I hoped to take us.

My heartbeat picked up at the realization that she did want something more. She did, she just needed time to adjust. And I could give her that - I could keep giving her that, just as long as we kept moving forward.

“It’s okay if you don’t want it.” I’d taken too long to answer, she had approached me quickly to snatch the bag from my grasp. “It’s stupid anyway.” I stopped her, both hands on her waist before she could fully turn around.

“No, give me it!” I know it sounded whiney, but I didn’t want to risk being without my lunch bag. Once it was in the safety of my hands, I put it to the side for just enough time to cradle her face and force her to take in what I had to say. “Don’t you ever say anything you did for me is stupid. I’m not used to having people do things for me because they thing I’d like or need them. This means everything to me.”

The soft smile she gave me, the way her eyes looked up at me from under her eyelashes had me feeling like I was on a rollercoaster and the fall had just begun. I suppose, in many ways, it already had.

The little gesture didn’t leave my mind the entire day. I caught myself smiling at nothing, becoming easily distracted while Harlan tried to explain something about the presses to me, but every time I ran a hand over my face and apologized, he just gave me a knowing smile.

I didn’t even feel embarrassed about it. I was almost proud, really. I had spent an entire life having to pay for what I needed - and I did it, unashamedly so. And now there was this incredible woman who wanted to take care of me. I could barely believe it.

I couldn’t believe that this woman that I didn’t even know a few months ago was now everything I thought of, everything I wanted in life.

Everything was going well, too well. I should have known it was only a matter of time until something ruined it.

I first noticed it because Harlan’s face suddenly fell when he raised his gaze to meet mine, instead settling on something over my shoulder. When I turned around, I quickly understood why.

It was my mom, and by the way she marched in our direction, she clearly wasn’t here to do anything cheerful.

“Was I supposed to know about you having a baby through my own father?” I cringed, even visibly flinched at the knowledge that she now knew about my kid. “Have you no respect for your mother?”

My snicker said everything she needed to know, and when she raised a finger to shake it on my face, it took Harlan to control us both. “Okay, alright, that’s it. This is still my place of work, an extension of my house, I won’t have you two disrespecting it’s sanctity.”

I huffed, adjusting my coat as I turned my back on her to focus on my grandfather again. He was the reason why I was there, and the only reason why I didn’t just leave upon seeing my mother.

“Now, Linda, if Ransom didn’t tell you about something this important in his life, there must be a reason for it. What do you think it is?” My mother turned her face from her own father, seeming particularly interested on her own high heel shoes now. We both knew she wouldn’t relent, so with a sigh, Harlan met my eyes, silently asking me to be the bigger person here - I knew.

“How about this, I’ve been meaning to have you all for dinner for a while, it’s been a long time since the family gathered for anything other than a holiday. Is Friday good for both of you? You can bring the girl, if you want.” That last part was directed to me specifically, making my eyes widen. I could only imagine what she would say if I suggested a family dinner with my entire family, especially considering everything I had told her about them - and why I wasn’t excited to tell them about the baby in the slightest.

“I’ll see, but she might be busy.” My mother snickered, making me narrow my eyes at her, thinking about a very important reassurance I needed to get before I even considering attending that dinner. “If I do end up bringing her, I don’t want to see any of you all treating her as anything less than a princess, is that understood?”

Of course, Harlan knew I was speaking more to my mother than to him, and that I expected the message to be extended to the rest of the family before Friday rolled around, but seeing as my mother was still brushing her already perfectly clean skirt, he was the one to answer.

“Of course, Ransom. We’re all excited to meet her, she’s a welcome guest in my house.” The warning was there for the both of us. And even though it was my mother that would need to keep that in mind, I already knew I was the one who would end up leaving the only place outside my house where I felt safe because as long as she was there, there was no way I’d feel okay.

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

Cult Girl: Doctorate (Hannibal x Female!Reader) pt. 8

Cult girl and Hannibal go through an exhaustive list of potential adoptive couples. 

@wisesandwichshark

Trigger warning: sexual harassment, christianity, discussion of pregnancy and family planning, adoption, murder and cannibalism 

Step two: find an adoptive family.

Some would say your list of expectations for potential adoptive parents was too extensive. Impossible for any human to reach. But it was really just the bare minimum.

Regardless of if they were two men, two women, one of each, or a few people, the parents had to be trustworthy. It wasn't easy to earn Hannibal's trust, but he could recognize those who had the capacity to right away. It was a little instinct you had dubbed 'friend or food'.

On paper, the apostolic pastor and his wife of 19 years seemed like the perfect candidates. The adoption agency tried to push them on you, as they had a great track record with adopting from them prior. Three boys, all of which were honors students.

Hannibal insisted on a formal introduction, during which you could conduct a proper, though surreptitious, interview. It was an invitation to dinner.

He invited the couple into his office, where a pot of tea and an interrogation was waiting for them. Then there was you. Barely-pregnant little [F/N], feeling entirely safe so long as your fiancé was beside you.

"You're doing the right thing, y'know." The woman, who introduced herself as Mrs. Landon, said upon meeting you.

"How do you mean?" You asked, already knowing the answer.

"All god's life is precious." She said, placing a hand on your not-even-remotely-showing-yet stomach. "You're walking in obedience to the lord by giving this child a shot at life."

Strike one: bringing up religion unprompted. Strike two: touching me without asking first.

You wanted to swat her hand away, but remembered that patience was a virtue. She and her husband took a seat across from you.

"Y'know," The man began, his mannerisms eerily similar to those of his wife. "I don't usually begin with the god talk, but I think a higher power had to have been involved in the conception of this- well, our child. I'd like to think the good lord brought us together today."

Strike three: already believes he is entitled to my child. You're outta here.

"Don't flatter the adoption agency like that, Jacob." Hannibal chuckled, placing his teacup on the side table.

"I'm serious, Dr. Lecter." Jacob interjected. "Faith and I really do believe that god put us on this earth to prepare his smallest soldiers for the spiritual war."

You shot Hannibal a side glance that said 'can we please just eat them now?'.

The answer was no. Hannibal liked to play with his food.

"And your adult children have all moved out?" He asked.

"That's right." Jacob nodded. "We have plenty of room in our five-bedroom house for the new little slugger to run around in."

"And if it's a girl!" The wife interrupted. "We have enough closet space for all the denim maxi-skirts money could buy."

Strike four: arbitrarily genders the behavior of a nine-week-old embryo.

The man then returned the teacup to the table, not bothering to use the saucer and instead leaving a nasty ring of condensation on the polished mahogany.

"Okay." Hannibal huffed, resignedly rising from his seat. He pulled two hypodermic needles from his back pocket and carefully, subtly stuck them onto the couples' necks. They couldn't even scream.

The tacos al pastor that followed (after a few days of marinating, of course) were exquisite.

The next week brought a new couple to your doorstep. Frank and Angela, they were named. Their claim to fame was that their oldest son played football for one of those big southern party schools. Either Auburn or Alabama. There was hardly a difference.

You sat for what felt like hours listening to the man speak in unintelligible football babble, waiting for him to take a breath. Surprisingly, it was the mom who got him to finally shut up.

"Frank, please." She said with more frustration than this one situation even remotely warranted. Either she had enough intuition to know she was being tested, or she’d spent the last decade putting up with this. Possibly both. "You're boring our hosts to death."

"What? No way! She loves it!" Frank replied, then turned to you. Not to Hannibal, just you. “Aren’t you having a great time, sweetheart?” 

Strike one: takes advantage of the female socialization to be passive and polite, allowing himself to take up the most space.

You shook your head. “I hate football.” 

His wife looked quite pleased with herself. 

“Angie, I just wanted her to know what good breeding her son is going to have.” He said, without a lick of irony or self-awareness. He eyed you up and down and licked his lips. “And it is mutual, I see.” 

The room went quiet as everyone tried to determine whether he was serious or if it was just a fucked-up joke. The longer the silence lingered, the more you realized he wasn’t kidding. Angela looked like she wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

“I don’t know what the agency told you, Mr. Wyatt,” Hannibal said, trying not to grit his teeth. “She isn’t a surrogate. She’s already pregnant.” 

Frank’s jaw hung dumbly open. “I thought you were looking for a sperm donor? I just-” 

“No.” You cut him off, raising your hand and covering your face. “I don’t want to know what you thought.” 

“Well, I would!” Angela interjected, righteous fury eclipsing what should have been crippling embarrassment. “What exactly did you think this was, Francis?” 

“The file said that he was over fifty, so I just assumed--” Frank rationalized, his voice far too loud for the room. “Y’know? That she wanted a baby that wouldn’t come out all funny-looking?” 

“You’re disgusting.” You blurted out. 

“Francis Howard Wyatt,” Angela scolded as if she were talking to her son. “You are forty-eight and the only increasing part of your body is your blood pressure. Why on Earth would any woman choose you over her smart, handsome doctor fiancé?”

This made Hannibal sit up a little straighter. He wanted Francis on the butcher’s block yesterday, but he momentarily considered letting Angela live. 

“They’re not married?” Frank whispered, or whatever the loud-aggressive-toxic-masculinity version of whispering was. He paused, as the dead hamster on the wheel powering his brain crept back to life. “That actually makes sense.” 

Angela loudly smacked her hand against her face. “Dr. Lecter, Ms. [L/N], I am so sorry.” 

“It’s quite alright, Mrs. Wyatt.” Hannibal stood up, readying the next batch of needles. “It just makes what I’m about to do easier.” 

It took quite a bit of restraint to not make their deaths hurt, but he made up for it when it came time to carve. He had fun running his fittingly small penis through a meat grinder. Not with any intent to cook it, though. Just because. 

Hannibal wanted to make Francis Wyatt into the least dignified meal imaginable. You quickly recalled going to a friend’s barbeque in Georgia and encountering a horrendously Southern delicacy known as Frito Pie. You proposed the idea to Hannibal, who, after reviling in abject horror at the notion of eating something out of a bag, agreed that it was the most fitting end. He could spare a few pounds of flesh to grind up and make into chili. 

The third week brought yet another couple. They seemed smart enough to realize your invitation wasn't the friendly olive branch the others had interpreted it as. Their healthy skepticism was refreshing, to say the least. Then, you met them: Max and Archie.

"You'll have to forgive my partner's paranoia." Max said upon entering the house. He tugged playfully at Archie's hand. "We watched Get Out recently, so an invitation to the suburbs sounded some alarms in his sleep-deprived brain."

"I love that movie." You chimed in. "It reminds me of my family."

"Oh no." Archie's eyes widened in only half-pretend fear. He shot an I-told-you-so look in his partner's direction. 

"But my favorite horror flick has to be Midsommar." You added. "My friends and I saw a midnight screening and we didn't sleep at all that night."

"But have you seen Hereditary?" Archie posited.

"Of course." You shrugged. "Aster is totally genius."

You made more than just polite conversation with the couple. Max, despite his young age, was a skilled data analyst and day trader. He attributed his success to the hard work of his immigrant parents. Archie was an environmental lawyer and land activist. He was also a bit of a thrill junkie, indulging in everything from scary movies to bungee jumping.

It didn't take long to realize that you wouldn't be eating them. They were far too pleasant of company to eat.

"So when is this baby planning to make its entrance?" Archie asked, gesturing to you. "You don’t look all that pregnant to me."

You put your hand over your slightly-protruding stomach. "Late August, I believe. If everything goes according to plan."

"You're not far along at all, aren’t you?" Max observed. "That gives us plenty of time to prove ourselves to you."

"Believe me." You put up your hand. "You're doing a great job so far."

“If you like horror stories, we might have to indulge you in the last two encounters we had.” Hannibal commented, leaning back comfortably in his chair. That was a good sign. “No blood was spilled, thank god. Would have ruined my carpets. But believe me when I tell you it came very close.” 

The couple laughed along. Archie leaned in like he was about to tell a life-shattering secret. “You wouldn’t believe the hoops we had to jump through to even have the chance to adopt. And I don’t want to say that it’s because we’re an interracial gay couple, but...” 

“Agencies aren’t exactly colorblind.” You finished, via his prompting. 

“She gets it.” Archie pointed to you. “See, Maxie? She agrees with me.” 

Max pushed his glasses up his nose. “I never said I disagreed.” 

You spent the rest of the afternoon waiting for the conversation to take a sharp left turn off a cliff, but it didn’t happen. They were wonderful company; polite, intelligent and articulate. Exactly the kind of people you’d want to see taking care of your child. 

You’d have to look for you next meal elsewhere. 

[bangtanpromptsfics]

pyxis.

dialogue prompt #9: “Cheer up it's Christmas Eve, sweetheart”

pairing: jimin x reader

genre: christmas au, brother's best friend au, fluff, childhood friends to lovers

word count: 3,412 (oh no)

warnings: reader is a lil sad but nothing angsty tho

summary: christmas was always an eager wait. less for the tree decorations, family dinner and the fuss of toddlers. more for your childhood best friend who you kissed under a mistletoe years back.

a/n: ahhh!!! I'm not completely satisfied with how this turned out to be. the inspiration was from a few christmas themed fics I read here and the movie ‘It's Christmas, Eve’. anyway this was my attempt though it's nowhere near christmas time. one of my personal goals is to celebrate a christmas like the west, the snow, the fuss and the commotion ;-;. Also I lost sense of time and space and this turned out to be 3k ;-;

masterlist

“Cheer up it's christmas eve, sweetheart”, your mother chimes as she pours brown batter into little cupcake moulds.

You simply smile at her, the festive mood not really getting to you because of exhaustion. Uni was tough, and enjoying this Christmas when you know you have tons of essays due in a few days was hammering inside your brain every now and then.

“Is that chocolate?”, you ask, leaning your tired body on the counter where she is at work.

“And orange”, she smiles, turning around to preheat the oven.

“Where's Jin”. Though you hated the routinely flicks against your forehead, the absence of your big brother felt weird.

“He went with Jimin to get the Christmas tree”.

The mention of Jimin brings a smile to your face. His soft features and captivating grin filling your head. If there was one of the few things you enjoyed coming back to your hometown for holidays, it's chocolate cupcakes your mom bakes and Jimin.

His family are friends with yours after all. You, Jin and Jimin attended the same school until college and other priorities in life drift you apart. Though the bond must have rusted a bit, you can't deny the fact that you still have that crush which started somewhere in middle school, on a chritmas eve like this when he kissed your cheeks shyly under the mistletoe. Your friends and family, and even Jimin himself must have seen it nothing more than platonic, but you still find yourself relieving the moment in your head however crazy it may sound.

Standing up straight, you decide to fix your bed hair and complete the skincare routine before the said duo drops.

“Mrs. Y/L/n...”, Jimin softly kicks the back door. He is carrying one end of a huge fir, and your brother on the other end, grunting from the freezing snow outside.

“Oh dear place it right there”, you mother is quick to her feet helping the boys and doing her usual commentary on how well the tree looked.

Jimin looks more handsome than ever, especially with his nose and cheeks dusted in scarlet from the cold. He looks really huggable in his fluffy sweaters and red beanie. Jin is busy commanding around so you choose to sit back, a very typical sibling energy and the size of decoration boxes and the tree itself not really appetizing to your will to find any strength.

“Hey Y/n!”, Jimin stares back at your eyes in a split moment which has your lashes fluttering suddenly. You probably look like you are carrying a disease and right now you become very hyper aware of that.

“You alright? You look tired”, he comments. You feel his eyes carefully studying the black under your eyes and worrying his mind because that's what he is like. He cares about everyone and everything, has a heart so soft it hurts to even think about it.

“Jet lag...”, you say, “I'll be fine”. You shoot a little thumbs up on his way to reassure.

“Why didn't Jin get the tree earlier? It's Christmas in a few hours”, you dodge the focus around you and walk near in an attempt to closely examine the tree for no reason other than feeling Jimin’s eyes a little too long on you.

Your brother gets visibly annoyed seeing you start a very unnecessary talk. So he is completely obliged to shoot back with, “Because you were in charge of Christmas decorations this year but your lazy ass flew down here only yesterday”.

“You know I was busy with Uni!”

“Whatever”, he shrugs, getting back to the box of tree decorations. You feel a little bad seeing yourself not being helpful during a festive season. It felt like you were procrastinating on your responsibilities as always.

“Um...is there any way I can help?”, you ask softly, earning a mischievous grin from Jin and your mom fills in the answer.

“We need more baubles. Also I missed out gifts for Aerum and June, so maybe you can get them”. Now this was already tiring and you were not lying earlier either, the jet lag was still choking you alive. You wonder if the huge pile of stars and glitters beside your foot aren't enough but then maybe it's true because this is the largest fir you ever saw for Christmas in your house. And speaking of the five year old notorious duo, your cousins-- Aerum and June, you have no other option than to step out into the butt numbing cold and get something for the sake of not getting your brains eaten.

While you stand there doing these calculations, Jimin puts a two and two and immediately suggests to tag along with you.

“That'd be great! Thanks sweetie”, your mom chimes, her fine lines of face gathering around her eyes while she does so and you catch her throwing a wink to your side and you pretend you never saw that.

“Thank you Jimin”, you smile in all honesty while he reciprocates the same.

“No problem. I'll get my car. Will you be ready in an hour? I think you just woke up”

“Uh...yeah”, you fake a laugh, “Yes I'll be ready in an hour”

Jimin still lives here in your hometown, attends a community college nearby and his house is just a few steps away from your own. You remember how you had the same analogy in your mind as well. You like living here. You like Jimin’s company. The lake Park and the annual ice skating competition in December and the bookstores and coffee shops at the outskirts of the town. And you can't seem to clearly remember when and where that feeling started to become foreign. Maybe it was a teenage quirk to explore the world that you are now a three hour flight away from all of this. It wasn't a deep regret, but seeing Jimin, it almost felt like it. It felt like you betrayed him. Because he seemed to be keeping his word to this day.

This year, it's a few degrees lower than what it usually is and you find yourself chattering your teeth together as you walk to Jimin’s house.

His footsteps rush to get the door as soon as you ring the doorbell and he greets with the same wide grin as if he hasn't just saw you an hour ago.

“Let's go?”, he asks immediately, getting house keys from his coat pocket and locking the front door before stepping out making you confused.

“There's no one home? Where are your parents?”

“Oh well didn't Mrs. Y/L/n tell you?”, he studies your features and gets his response so he continues “They went to New York this year for Christmas. It's some elder people thing I think...so I'll be spending Christmas this year with your family”

“Really!?”, you chime, and then immediately notice a very childish jump you did with tiny fists and all, feeling a little embarrassed at yourself, “Ah... uh I mean that's great”.

“Yeah”, he giggles, sounding like a twelve year old who is still waiting for his growth spurt, “Get in the car it's freezing in here”.

Since it's been six odd months you've spoken to Jimin, you figured it would would be strange and awkward to be with him, but his demeanor states otherwise. He could effortlessly begin conversations and build momentum with you and by the time you are at a thrift store, he is aware of the little gist of student life and the dramatically exaggerated history research paper still due.

“What are you getting for the twins?”, he asks, seeing you checking out the kids toys section with absolutely no idea and that's exactly what you reply to him.

“How about this puzzle?”, he brings a big jigsaw to your glance and you figure it's a great thing to have their little brains engaged and give yourself time to breathe.

“It's perfect!”, you add, immediately placing it your cart with a few decors you picked up from earlier aisles.

Jimin places an extra pack of Christmas candies in the cart, and you send him a questionable look knowing it's his way of bribing the kids coming this evening. He puts too much effort into people's happiness, something you wish you were capable of as well.

The shopping went smooth. It was therapeutic to get hot chocolate with extra marshmallows afterwards like he insisted followed by that very cliche movie scene where one of them develops a creme moustache and the other notices and dabs it off.

You want this moment to linger a little longer, but your whole family arrives in less than two hours and the decorations were due. If Jin doesn't have you in the next thirty minutes he might as well eat all the cupcakes your mom is baking as revenge.

“I had a great time”, Jimin states as he stops the car in front of your house, stealing the words from your mouth and warmth hugs your cheeks immediately.

“Me too. It's been long since we spent time with each other”

You hear a lone sigh with white fogs coming out of his plump lips while he does so, as if he were suddenly sad when you mentioned that.

“Are you okay?”

His grips tightens around the steering, “I've missed you”, he says, eyes meeting slowly. And as if he was suddenly pulled back to earth he conjures another sentence to not sound so vulnerable.

“I uh... It's just--”

“I've missed you too”

Even with the gear box painstakingly blocking the way, you throw your upper half towards his body anyways and you find him hugging you back. His hugs still feel the same from years back; safe and warm and filled with love.

If it wasn't for the constant reminder that your brother is probably plotting a murder against you, you would've stayed much longer in his embrace. Maybe the hug was a big straightforward for a bond still gradually blooming, but it didn't feel weird at all and when you pull back he is smiling down at you.

“I thought you two lovebirds flew off”, a very annoyed Jin states from above you. He is balancing himself on a chair to attach the mistletoe to the ceiling.

“Sorry hyung”, Jimin says. And somehow now you are getting super aware of the way your family is low key shipping you both. Not that it's an irritating thing of course though you seem to act like it. But you have no idea what's going on with Jimin, what if he said he missed you as your childhood friend? It's a lot difficult to segregate his priority of giving affection. He seems to be giving justice in terms of care for every living being he knows.

“The circus is on its way so I hope you both hurry with putting up everything together”, the voice above states, now lowering himself to ground after putting up the twig.

Three of you giggle at the mention of your family as a circus. Well in a way it definitely was. You have a bunch if uncles who crack awful jokes, a trait Jin himself as picked up from a tender age of ten. Then their wives and kids who share certainly the same braincells in comprehending things. You bet they'll ask you again about your major and your dating history once they walk in through that door amidst clearly stating everytime that you are a history major and yes still very single.

In the hallway there is a half decorated tree. A thread of fairly lights wrapped around the green and very few baubles hanging here and there.

“I'll put up the star and join you”, Jimin says, digging out a golden star from the carton. Though now he doesn't know why it was a good idea for him to announce that when both of you were almost the same height. He is just a few centimeters taller than you and the top of the fir is still very much way above your heads.

So with a chuckle you both figure Jin has to do it.

“This is your final year right?”, Jimin asks stepping closer to you. He seemed nervous about something. Or was it anxious?

“Yeah...you?”

“Yeah...”, his sweet tone was drawn almost like a whisper and you sense you should ask him further about what's wrong. But before you had to deal with a starter he continues,

“Are you planning to work in Chicago as well?”

“Sweetheart help me clean up the kitchen please”, your hear your mom's voice overpowering through the house. Which is good. Because you don't know what you are supposed to answer. It was as if he was almost hopeful that you'll choose your hometown all over again. But you aren't sure. So you take the opportunity to step away from the situation excusing yourself.

And while you are clearing the blobs of batter stuck on the counter, your mind is a haywire. What are you going to do? Though you know your whole family wants you to stay, it's still a foggy place to be in. Four years apart in another city as a college student has not provided much, except caffeine addiction and sleepless nights. Things were not even as fun as everyone told you.

A few steps away Jimin silently prays that you stay, because he had truly missed you. Even though you have outgrown from the eighteen year old shell as he had known, he finds himself actively choosing to be with you. Even when other things in life occupies his mind, there's an element of it which goes back to you.

“They are here!”. You groan silently, while your parents are throwing their hands in air, giggles and chatter fills in as your uncles and aunts and the taunting toddlers welcome themselves in.

“Y/n! You have grown so much!”, the older aunt comments, and you supply a manufactured smile to tag along. Other comments follow by soon, about how tired you are, gasps about not having a partner and future plans, all of which are not completely answerable at the moment but you manage to get through them all and finally excusing yourself back to the garage convincing there are more decor supplies in there.

Families are nice. They make festivals brighter and lives less lonely. But yours was just hard sometimes. Not that you completely loathed the people now fueling themselves off the cup cakes your mom bakes, you were just merely lost, still yet to come up with an answer to what your stance is after graduation.

“Hey...”. Jimin has joined you now which you notice feeling a warmth against your shoulder when he sits, with an extra scraf knowing the garage is still comparatively chilly than the house, “you okay?”.

“Yeah...I was just...thinking”

“Is this about earlier? I'm sorry if I made you anxious”, he quickly adds.

“No!...I mean yeah but, it's high time I find a ground with this. What are your plans?”

“I was thinking about teaching at Jefferson High”, he shifts rather uncomfortably. He is talking of the school in your town, your school, where you have lots of memories with Jimin, “You know...like we said during Junior year in high school?”

“I'm sorry Jimin”, you feel the guilt inside you growing, “I never kept my promises”.

“Hey...that's okay! Everyone changes. I just want you to be happy. I...I hope you are happy Y/n”, he reassures, taking your hand from your side and squeezing it between his soft palms.

“I don't know about that either...”

As much as you hated showcasing vulnerability to another person, you know Jimin is an exception. You had cried to him about everything during school days and he had never invalidated a single thing, even when you were visibly dramatic over a downpour during a family picnic when you were five.

Jimin is frozen on his seat as if he can't find the words. He was never good with words so instead he hugs you, a little longer than the last time till he is sure you have calmed down. Grateful for not ending up crying, you smile up at him and remind yourselves to get back inside to avoid suspicion, especially from the kids who take humiliating people as an important milestone to achieve.

When you enter back inside and get immediately surrounded by a million questions and chores thrown at you, you find your answer. Maybe your heart belongs back to everything your younger self had blabbered about. Not to mention, this fairly good reunion with your crush feels nice, though, he might still see it as platonic. Maybe he makes things less daunting.

By the way Jimin was owning everyone's heart in the house, it felt like he was family. Well in a way he is. But to put more clarity, he bought things together and his actions bought so much peace and love within everyone. Even the notorious twins listen carefully to him and help the uncles and aunts in the kitchen.

He is again by your side, two cupcakes rests on his palms and you take it with a silent ‘thanks’.

Seeing no signs of him beginning a talk now, you think of coming up with something. Maybe a memoir from today? Or about how absolutely handsome he looks right now? Wait.

“They are under the kissing twig!”, Aerum screams like the house caught in fire, her sibling joining by the side to provoke the habit even more.

“It's called a mistletoe Aerum”, your aunt corrects before pasting a smug across her lips.

Nothing changed. They are the same people. Hyping you and Jimin to kiss just like when you were thirteen. If the factor of time is removed, this is the exact night. Both of you cemented to the flooring as if you forgot to exist.

Both of your necks snap together to the mistletoe Jin had attached to the ceiling earlier. And when you lower your gaze back, face gawks at each other eye to eye. It's the same. He has that blush, the shyness from years ago. It's going to be platonic. Yet again. And this moment will only ever be romantic and flowery in your head.

June was the first to squeak, and Aerum shuts her eyes the moment Jimin is leaning his mouth towards your lips. It was difficult to relax under the stares of many, but when he ghosts his mouth over your again and leans in for a second kiss, you are fixated on him. Hands holding each other, the plump of his lips so soft it felt like you were biting into a fluff of cloud.

Maybe he'll have an explanation to your family for this. Not like anyone in the audience was disappointed. Your mother was almost in tears? And Jin looked hardly surprised with any of this. As if it was all swell according to his plans.

“You both are so cute”, one of the aunts awes and your mother is quick by her side, completely agreeing to it.

“Jimin...”, you return your gaze to the equally flustered man who just kissed you and he sounded almost breathless,

“I'm sorry if this was wrong it ju--”

“I like you”, you immediately snap in and his face is a void for an instant. Fully processing the words, his eyes disappear when he grins, “I like you too...a lot”.

“Are you two dating?”, the twins haven't dropped the case yet, running to your feet to help their curious brains.

“Yes...”, Jimin responds, looking up at you for a reassurance, which you quickly supply with a nod, “Yes we are dating”.

When the kids are satisfied they go away snickering to themselves.

“I decided to stay”, you say.

“Really!?”, his disbelief was comical, yet wholesome considering how much he wished for this, “I'm...I'm so happy!”.

Giggling at him, this time you lean forward and peck the corner of his lips.

“You lovebirds better get a room”, Jin announces and thankfully not loud enough to catch everyone else's attention.

Usually Jin expects a punch to his arms from his sister, but he sees how grateful you are for his mistletoe decor. He leaves the couple, satisfied that there won't be any more ranting about how much Jimin likes you.

Thank you so much for reading!! ♡♡

Original Content of ©bangtanpromptsfics

[uniquevocashark]

A Good Servant Part 5

Content Warnings for:

graphic descriptions of gore, blood, murder, threats of murder, lady dimitrescu and her daughters eating people, threats of violence, assault, bodily harm, grievous bodily harm, blood baths, implications of murder, mentions of experimentation (very brief), mentions of manipulation, mentions of excessive eating, mental fuckery done by the protagonist

THis monster is 11 PAGES ON WORD DOCS, AHHHHHHHHHHHH

You cast a look at Daniela, who sneers at Vanessa with more venom than a viper. Vanessa’s hands raise up and she backs away from you, the cut on her neck shallower than you expected. Daniela pushed her sickled down harder until Vanessa was forced backwards, several meters away, then dashed back in front of you. She left her sickle loose in her hand, then flashed an imitation of Cassandra’s smile.

“Why did you touch our things?” She repeated, the joy leaking back into her voice. She turned her wrist slightly and her sickle caught the light brilliantly, a clear demonstration of an agonising amount of time and effort spent polishing it.

“Your ‘things’?” Vanessa said and you would have intervened if a bug hadn’t flown into your mouth.

Another crawled along your collarbone and down your hands and when you looked found that they had red eyes rather than green. Miss Bela bit down on your tongue gently when your mouth twitched into a frown and you smoothed your expression before Daniela noticed.

She grabbed your choker and yanked you forward along with it, displaying the Dimitrescu crest that usually sat proudly cradled against your throat, “This isn’t just decoration, you stupid man-thing. They belong to House Dimitrescu.”

“They don’t.”

“She does!”

“We,” Vanessa said, winking at you over Daniela’s shoulder, “Work for Mother Miranda.”

“But she doesn’t love Mother Miranda,” Daniela pouted, so caught up in stamping her foot that she yanked you even closer, “She loves us. And you aren’t allowed to touch what I love!”

Vanessa raised her brow, and you shot her a glare. Gently, you placed a hand on Daniela’s, and she looked at you moon-eyed after Bela had flown out of your bleeding mouth. “It’s alright, Daniela.” You said softly, rubbing her taut knuckles.

“It is not alright,” She insisted, then released your choker to grab your arm tightly. “Only House Dimitrescu can touch you.”

“I’m aware,” You said, and pushed her hand away, “Now, I must settle Vanessa in, Miss.”

“Fine.” She pouted, much like her mother, and disappeared in a haze of bugs. Another bug, with a bulkier wing set and yellow eyes bit your finger before fleeing as well. You brushed off the blood on your apron and shot a glare at Vanessa. The cut, you noted, had already disappeared. Mother Miranda must of improved how quickly she could regenerate.

“What?”

“’What’.” You mocked, averting your eyes.

“I am right,” Vanessa said, clutching her chest like a Victorian lady in need of a fainting couch, “We, technically, belong to Miranda. Not her adopted anger issues.”

You rolled your eyes and wiped the smears of blood of the walls that Daniela had made in her haste to get between the two of you. “Whether or not you are factually correct is irrelevant.”

“You’re not serious.”

“I am,” You said tiredly, “Part of my very serious job is keeping the girls happy because it’s more important than the semantics of my situation.”

“It’s more than just semantics,” Vanessa insisted, “You’re lying to them.”

You sighed, “It would hurt them too much.”

“You’ve gone soft.” Vanessa bumped your shoulders together and smiled that smug grin you could never forget.

You crossed your arms and bumped her back. “Shut up.”

…

“Stop complaining for two seconds, would you?” You said, holding the door open for her.

Vanessa shrugged, leaning over you instead, “Who said I was complaining?”

“Go in the room.”

“I’m supposed to observe you.”

“And I need to attend to Lady Dimitrescu, now in.” You nudged her towards the room, and she stumbled more than she should have.

The room was small but warm. It was set next to your own and had been empty for as long as you had been there, so you had hijacked it for personal use until then. Lady Dimitrescu had given the room to Vanessa for the duration of her stay and, while you were attached to it, you cleared your extra things and remade it for her.

Vanessa, on the other hand, didn’t appreciate the spartan room all that much. She didn’t seem to like the lack of windows, or how dry everything was. You frowned at her for that.

“You should be used to this kind of living.” You said.

Vanessa sat down at the desk and propped her legs on the desk. “Maybe I got used to luxury.”

“Yes, Mother Miranda’s operating table is so clearly the height of ostentatious luxury.”

She laughed, then covered her mouth a moment later.

“Get comfortable,” You said after a moment, “I’ll be back later.”

“Do you have to help her?” Vanessa asked.

“I work for her.”

“You also kiss her ass when she isn’t around.”

You frowned, “I do not.”

“You do,” Vanessa cooed, “Every conversation you manage to sneak her in. Lady Dimitrescu this and Lady Dimitrescu that.”

“Not this again.”

You rubbed one of your temples. Vanessa shrugged from her seated position, her eyes barely moving from you. “She isn’t even here.”

“I’m not entertaining this,” You said flatly, “Stay in here, I’ll be back by the end of the day.”

“Define ‘end of the day’.” She said, picking up the axe you kept under the bed.

“Before dinner.”

“Okay.” You heard her say before you shut the door.

You walked halfway down the hallway then turned to look back at her door. It was closed, the corridor was well lit and warm and the noise of the kitchen from further down was the only thing you could hear. The only difference from yesterday was a thick black line that marked one side of the walls.

…

Lady Dimitrescu’s rooms were emptier without her pet, something that you always noted when she lost one. The extra bedding was gone, the extra candles, the smaller set of care products that she usually kept and the trunk for clothing. It almost looked too stark, and you could almost understand her obsession with always keeping a pet.

“Madame.” You greeted and she blew a stream of smoke at her own reflection.

“Wesker,” Lady Dimitrescu murmured, removing her gloves, “Is the bath ready?”

“Yes, Madame.”

“Good.”

She didn’t move from her spot, slowly removing one glove at a time.

Her vanity mirror was covered in a viscous substance that drooled down onto the mahogany

“Come here.” She said softly, extending one hand towards you without turning to look at you. Her hand gleamed grey in the darkness and you were halfway to her before you realised you had moved. She planted the hand on your shoulder and untied the choker around your neck.

Her mouth was dark with blood, spilling into a cascade down her dress. What you assumed was the remains of Mihaela, a few bones, a dark patch of blood and intestines strewn neatly on the floor, sat at her feet. She caressed your cheek and brought you closer to her. You flinched and she smiled, her eyes burning gold, leaning over to capture your other cheek.

“What’s the matter?” She murmured, pulling you tight against her, smearing blood over your face and chest, “Are you afraid of me?”

You sucked in a breath that reeked like open bowels, “What is going on?”

She tilted her head slightly, and her mouth split too widely when she smiled, through her cheek and near her ear. She opened her mouth and her cheeks split open, her long black tongue pouring out of the side to lick blood off her jawline.

You moved your head away gently and she moved, licking your face from chin to forehead to clean away the blood she had left. She cradled you in her lap, dragging her lips over your forehead then her teeth and you stared at her blood covered neck quietly.

“Who did you use for the bathtub?”

You cleared your throat, “The chambermaids, Madame.”

She licked one of her fangs, “How many?”

“Fifty-four.”

She growled, moving to hold your waist and hug you to her chest. Lady Dimitrescu licked the blood from your cheek, her tongue as rough as a tiger, then rested her chin on the top of your head. You weren’t sure how to move; when you moved even slowly, she tensed, and she would periodically hum before she licked your face. It did not help much that her tongue scraped the flesh from your face and that she took obvious pleasure with each scrap she took from you.

Her face slowly sewed itself back together, but it was not a painless or soundless process. You watched her face, the cheek slowly come together, veins re-establishing before being filled over with flesh that reddened as soon as it grew. Her tongue grew softer, and she was no longer slurping down your flesh to fill her stomach.

“Bring up a few of the serving staff, I’m in desperate need of a good bath.” She said but didn’t let you go. You cautiously push her face away, and she nibbled at your fingertips softly. She was staring at you, her pupils wide and eyes hungry.

“Would you prefer the pastry chefs or the line cooks, Madame?”

She smiled, and it was normal, though her lipstick was smeared down her chin, “The line cooks should suffice.” She said and licked your bloodied cheeks clean.

…

You prided yourself on many things, because you were good at many things, but avoiding the suddenly clingy Dimitrescu family was nearly beyond your capabilities. The girls you could at least avoid for most of the morning, as they were always busy with one thing or another, but Lady Dimitrescu took every opportunity to have you with her as long as possible. It seemed not a minute could go by, even if you were cleaning her room, that she didn’t have a hand on you. By thirty past ten that morning, she had already called you five more times than she usually did.

When you could get away from her, and the endless workload she had decided to gift you after eating Mihaela, her daughters were there instead. Even dragging yourself through the dungeons and moving past the ghouls, one of them would find and attach themselves to you. And the first to find you as she always was, Daniela would appear and grip your sleeve or hold your hand in greeting.

She always bounced between anxious and forward when she wanted to start a conversation, not that you minded. She was, you thought, a reflection of what you were like when you were younger but made of flies. She was also hyper conscious of how she acted when the staff were around you, which you appreciated even if the extra effort was unnecessary.

“Are you thinking of leaving us?” She asked, sitting three steps down from you on the ladder you stood on.

“Thinking?” You paused, “Something like that.”

She wrapped her arm around your shins and looked up to you, her insects buzzing reminiscent of a cat’s purr, “Yes, or no?”

You stopped wiping at the thick black stain for a moment, “A bit of both.”

“That isn’t really an answer.”

“It’s more complex than yes or no,” You continued, rubbing at the stubborn spot with more force, “And try not to sound so unsure, it lessens the stern attitude you’re aiming for.”

“Okay,” She said, resting her cheek against your calf, “Can you explain the complex reasons?”

You rung out your rag, dipped it in water and tried to wipe the stain away again. You did so again, and Daniela watched you with a growing pout. “Please?” Daniela continued, kicking her feet into the air, “Don’t you love me enough to tell me?”

“There is no need to resort to emotional manipulation,” You countered, and pointed at the brush you needed, “Practice your sternness again.”

She cleared her throat while she handed you the brush, and her tone went serious, “You manipulate people too.”

“For complex reasons, and never about love,” You said lightly, patting her hair carefully and watching her smile bloom across her face, “I don’t really have a say in whether I leave or not, Daniela. If I must go, I go.”

Daniela dug her nails into your skin, but you didn’t mind it much. She held you a little tighter against her and frowned down at the floor. “I don’t understand, she gave you to us. So, you’re ours.”

“It doesn’t always work that way, Daniela,” She nodded but looked unconvinced, “Don’t frown so severely, it makes you look upset rather than stern but that was perfect vocal control.”

“Thank you.” She said but you could see that she was still lost in thought. She touched her necklace gently and toyed with one of swords, staring at you more severely than she usually did.

You looked out of the window you had just cleaned, to the sun shining down on the village and smoothed her hair down the side of her face again. “The day is rather fair, Daniela. You should ask your mother for a horse-riding lesson.”

She perked up, looking outside the window herself. “That sounds like fun.”

She hopped off the ladder and you followed her. The stain on the window had left your water black as ink and you still needed to finish the rest of the windows in the corridor before lunch, so you said your goodbyes to her. Daniela kissed your cheek and transformed into a swarm of bugs before you could react, already gone by the time you had registered the kiss.

She had always been more affectionate than her sisters, so you could almost excuse the sudden change in farewell. Out of all of the Dimitrescu, she was the one who liked you enough to want to be physically affectionate. You knew she had started doing it out of jealousy, though, ever since Vanessa had gotten too close to you than she liked.

After Daniela had disappeared and after a late lunch, around two thirty in the evening, Bela would find you as you left the kitchen.

Bela spoke the most and had mastered that stern tone that Daniela only practiced around you when they were too busy to find her. Her bugs had brilliant red eyes and settled along your collarbone with growing numbers each time she saw you. Now she kept a few bugs on you regardless of the time and you had woken to them buzzing above your head for the past three days.

“Thank you for recommending that exhilarating horse ride.” Bela greeted sarcastically.

“Miss Daniela wanted something to do.” You replied simply.

“Daniela has her books if she’s bored.”

“Miss Daniela has had trouble with riding for the past three years, it was an opportune time for her to ask.”

Bela walked closer to you than she usually would, and though she looked at your arm she didn’t take it. “Are you leaving?”

“What gave you that idea?” You replied flippantly.

“Are you planning to leave?”

“I can’t say.”

“Were you ever going to tell us?”

You didn’t meet her eyes.

Bela grabbed your elbow and made you face her, “Were you going to tell Daniela, at least?”

You pulled your elbow free from her grasp.

“I see,” She said severely, in perfect imitation of her mother, “Does Mother know?”

“She does.”

Bela frowned then let you go and then, softly. “She does?”

“I told her the day before last.”

Bela continued walking with you for a few minutes then turned to you as you were polishing a bust. “I need to talk with Mother about these secrets,” She spat the word out, “Don’t say anything to my sisters.”

Then she was disappeared in a swarm, and you were left with a group of flies clambering along the crest nestled along your throat.

…

Cassandra was never much of a conversationalist, focused more on her latest project that was undoubtedly a present for her mother than you. She had most strongly inherited her mother’s disposition towards people. She didn’t consider you a person, for example, more like a walking meal with the potential to be a person. Any opinions you expressed weren’t headed very much; it seemed to be a particular trait of the Dimitrescu family. It didn’t stop her from hooking an arm around yours after breakfast and not leaving you alone for the rest of the day.

Unlike her sisters, she kept a silent vigil over you, only speaking to shoo Vanessa away when she tried to get close to you. It wasn’t until just before dinner, when you were trying in vain to get your staff organised while Cassandra loomed over them with her sickle bared, that she started talking to you.

“You upset Bela yesterday.” She said.

You sent three maids back into the kitchen for messing up the placement of the cutlery, “Yes, I am aware.”

“What did you say?”

You paused, and the remaining maids looked at you and each other uneasily. They slowed down and you snapped at them to adhere to proper form.

“Well?”

You bit the inside of your cheek to stop from pursing your lips when you turned back to face her, “You’ll have to ask Miss Bela.”

Cassandra forced her sickle against your throat, where your neck met your head and cornered you against the unfinished table. “If you hurt my sister on purpose, I am going to gut you no matter what Bela or Mother says.”

You pushed her sickle away from your neck. “Then you should aim your sickle at my gut and not my neck, Miss Cassandra.”

Cassandra chuckled throatily and moved away from you. She smiled and thumbed the point of her sickle with a smile, wiping the edge you had touched almost wistfully. She gave a flourished goodbye, waving her sickle happily and walking into the main hall.

…

Vanessa took up the rest of your time before dinner, still seating pleasantly at the desk in the same position you had left her. She grinned at you and sat up properly.

“Hey there, stranger.”

You gave her a look.

“You’re not looking so good,” Vanessa said, coming over and gently rubbing the scrapes along your cheeks, “Are you doing okay?”

“You know what’s strange?” You said instead.

“What?”

“I don’t feel anything. I’m not even sore and I’ve been talking all day.”

You moved into her room and sat down on her bed, gripping the mattress and letting out a long sigh. The black stains that had been plaguing you all day were also here, you noticed. Vanessa came over to you, sitting down and wiping your cheeks with a wet cloth. You hissed at the cold and she stopped, uneasy.

“It’s fine.” You said and pushed her hand away. The cloth was black with blood.

“It isn’t.” She insisted.

“It’s just a little blood.” You murmured and collapsed onto her pillows.

She lay next to you, dabbing against the scrapes on your face. She looked worried so you let her clean away the blood while your face knitted itself back together. She sat you up gently and poured you a glass of water, not leaving you alone until you had three glasses. When the bell rang you wobbled upright, and she looked almost ready to dive to catch you.

“Dinner will be ready in twenty minutes.”

“Will you make it that far?”

You waved her off, “Follow me if you must.”

“That would be for the best.”

You frowned, unnerved by her complete lack of blinking, “I suppose.”

…

Lady Dimitrescu was fully dressed by dinner, with her makeup freshly reapplied and her dress clean of any stains. It was one of her newer dresses, red as the wine she drank with buttons that were white around her wrists and down her back. Her hair was still wet and was kept in a bun instead her usual bob, tightly held at the side of her neck.

You dabbed at the loose droplets of blood that trailed down her neck after she sat down, and she bent her head away from you to give you ample room. It exposed the entirety of her neck to the light, and it glowed warmly in the candlelight. Vanessa slurped on her wine a little louder than usual and you frowned at her.

Lady Dimitrescu ignored the flagrant misuse of manners and turned to the cooked liver and sliced heart she was served that evening. If you were not mistaken, three bodies went into her meal, from the sauce made of blood wine, the thick liver from Rachel’s husband and Rachel’s heart. Vanessa looked comparatively smaller, nibbling on her veal and carrots drowning in gravy. It was comical to see such a normal dinner served at the Dimitrescu table and you smiled.

Daniela noticed immediately and dropped her knife on the ground.

“Whoops,” She said when you walked over and picked it up and pulled a new one from your pockets. “Thank you.” She smiled.

Lady Dimitrescu sipped her wine, “Be careful, my dear.”

“Yes, Mother.”

Bela was much quieter than she usually was, not jibing Cassandra for eating without a fork or rolling her eyes at Daniela for being so obvious. Her eyes were fixed intently on Vanessa and barely strayed while her hands dissolved into bugs and ate her meal for her.

“Tell me, Vanessa,” Lady Dimitrescu began, drawing all eyes towards her, “How are you enjoying my castle?”

Vanessa swallowed the half-eaten potato she had in her mouth, “I haven’t seen much of it.”

“Oh? Not one to explore, are we?”

She looked at you, “I was advised against exploring.”

Lady Dimitrescu put a hand to her chest, the other planting itself on your shoulder and smiled magnificently, “I assure you, me and my daughters don’t bite. You are free to explore to your hearts content.”

Vanessa leaned back into her chair, “Thank you, I think.”

Lady Dimitrescu laughed and turned her smile on you, well pleased with herself. Her eyelids drooped for a moment and her smile went softer, “My dear Wesker will always be busy, of course, but my daughters do so love entertaining foreigners like yourself.”

You cleared your throat and she hummed then turned to Vanessa and returned to their last conversation. It was a clunky transition, one that she wouldn’t have made without reason, and you moved back to where your staff were. Their numbers were halved, the others the dinner on the girls plates, and you were left with only the best of the bunch. The perfect additives, the Lady called them, fit for her most expensive of wines.

You were glad to see that two more were worthy than the last round of cattle.

But that was out of your hands now. Lady Dimitrescu had ensnared Vanessa with a menagerie of questions that had clearly been building since their last conversation and you found many of your secrets were gouged with extensive glee.

Within the hour Daniela had eaten through an entire cake and was on to her second, while Cassandra had disappeared once again, kissing her mothers’ cheek as she left. Lady Dimitrescu’s menagerie had expanded to a national park of questions, and she spoke on and on without seeming to pause. Vanessa would finish answer one and have a dozen more posed within the next minute and she was ruddy faced and out of breath from talking so much.

Bela nibbled at her own slice of cake, strawberry and lemon tonight, looking so intensely at Vanessa you thought her eyes would merge. She listened too, more seriously than her sister did, and you could practically see her drinking in every detail of the conversation with interest. She looked at you a few times, for wine or in surprise, and at one point leaned over to murmur yikes after one particularly child unfriendly story.

You remained out of the interrogation, refusing to answer any question outright. That was how the Lady got in, she asked one innocuous question and then bombarded you with a million more until she was satisfied. Vanessa, it seems, hadn’t learned her lesson after the first time and fell for it faster than a plane landing on an airstrip.

Lady Dimitrescu laughed at one point, eyeing you, “Did you really?”

“I have no recollection of what she’s saying, Madame.”

“Surely you must, it sounds so outlandish,” She licked the wine from her lips, and you dabbed away the spit. “Unless you two are playing games with me.”

“No, Madame,” You said innocently, “We aren’t.”

She smiled, “Is that so?”

“It is, Madame.” You said and began clearing the table.

…

The morning after, you and Vanessa were in the kitchen, the windows open to the cold breeze. You were cutting vegetables, Vanessa’s dexterity with knives as good as a wad of putty left in the sun, and she instead kneaded dough poorly. Daniela had inadvertently whipped her sisters into an emotional frenzy after dinner last night and caused a series of unceremonious gorging on whomever was unluckiest and unwanted by their mothers’ palette.

With the chambermaids gone, it was the cooks who took the brunt of their hunger. Your sibling remained with his most trusted sous chef and the pastry chefs.

You had taken the last line cook down to the cellar last night, while she was still alive and kicking, dragging her feet along the floor in a vain effort to stop you. She had made excellent bread and glazed wonderfully; she smiled while she kneaded and had the best work ethic of all of them. it was for that reason you had recommended her for cadou experimentation and that reason alone why she had been spared from being eaten alive.

You had cleaned her hair up after you had restrained her and tucked a bit of hair behind her ear.

“You shouldn’t glare so ferociously,” You said, setting down a plate of mouldy bread, “You’ve been given a great opportunity.”

She looked mortified.

“You aren’t going to remember,” You continued, pouring a glass of water, “You don’t understand it and you won’t remember what I’m saying now, but you should be honoured by being brought here. It’s much better than being made into a bath.”

“What?”

“What precisely did you think happened to your paramour Jessica?” You smiled at her expression and set down the candle while she strained against the shackles. “The rest of the chambermaids were put into the Lady’s bath as well. They were sorely needed.”

This was perhaps your favourite part when you cycled through staff. There was something greatly satisfying about watching the pieces fall into place, faith wavering as they learned the truth and then visiting them afterwards and seeing the light in their eyes dead but for hunger.

Playing games, as Lady Dimitrescu said once, after she had caught you unravelling one of her subject’s entire life thread by thread. She had seemed pleased by your tendencies and even instructed you on how best to reveal certain information bit by bit. But you weren’t here for the joy of it, not right now at least.

“You’ve always been good with people, Bronwyn.” You said conversationally and she looked at you oddly.

“Clearly not, since I trusted you.”

“I’ve been manipulating people into liking me for years,” You waved your hand flippantly, “What would you have done if you had known I was like this halfway through your stay?”

The chains rattled, the ghouls scuffled past you and the cell and deeper into the dungeon. You heard the girls giggling down in the darkness, the scream of a man ringing so loudly as to hurt your ears and the cackling after. You stared at Bronwyn and watched her morph from horror to disgust and everything in between.

“Escape?” She said.

“But to me, personally. What would you have done? Would you stop talking to me? Forget things? Pretend you’re fine when you’re obviously so stressed pretending as to be breaking apart at the seams?”

She swallowed and you backed away from the bars. You had ruined your mood already, and you had only been here for five minutes. The bars were grimy and rusted and you rattled them absently.

“Nevermind,” You said instead, picking up the candle, “You’ll want to rest before Lady Dimitrescu gets down here.”

As you left you heard her sharp intake of breath as she spotted her sister in the cell opposite her.

…

“You know, you really had me convinced.” You said to Vanessa when you walked into her room. She was, as ever, sitting blank faced on the bed where you had left her, her chest cavity open to reveal nothing but black mold beneath it.

“Did I?” She said, looking at you and smiling, “I don’t really remember much.”

“The last time I saw you, you were opened exactly like this on a bench in a cell. Do you remember that?”

“No,” She confessed, “I don’t remember how we got to this shit village either.”

“We were still recovering from waking up, they shoved us in a potato sack together and hauled us here.”

“I don’t remember that.” She said and moved her hand to watch it as it crumbled.

You removed the pins holding her skin open, folding them back against her ribs carefully. You lay beside her as she morphed into a blob of black fungus, nestling into the crook of her neck and hugging her chest to you carefully. She still retained a semblance of her former shape, but you could see the details of her face smudging away.

“Vanessa?”

“Yes?” She gargled; the words distorted away from her usually cheerful voice.

“What is it like? Is it painful?”

Her head was growing a large mouth, so you grabbed the knife you kept strapped to your thigh and straddled her chest after you had drawn it. Her chest was a mess of black and it had cooled drastically, like steam as it rose and changed to rainwater. A tongue lolled out of it and long black claws sharpened from her fingernails.

“I see.” You said and started cutting through her neck.

[obaewankenope]

I'm starting a new chain for tracking the days on adhd meds because the original got very long. I also know how to do a readmore on mobile now (put in :readmore: and hit enter) so Fear Me.

.

Day 17 of adhd meds

I slept on the sofa last night and had a lot of burpies from eating late and not as well as I probably should on these meds. I also didn't take my pain meds as regularly as I should have yesterday considering how active I was. I am regretting it today.

My fingers are claws.

[rest under readmore]

My ankles were so swollen last because I changed footwear to flats from my trainers in the house after cleaning the dog poop in the garden and damn but I should have just kept the trainers on and cleaned the soles.

No cushioning for the shock impact of walking = P A I N.

Even pain meds didn't help. Had to elevate my feet and suffer until they deswelled enough to hurt less. Also pulled a muscle in my back again.

I will have the most relaxing bath today even if it kills me.

Or someone else in this house, I'm not picky.

I have some jobs to do today that I shouldn't ignore, like dishes and making some dinner for everyone, but I kinda just wanna curl up on the sofa and hibernate or game.

I want to decorate actually but don't have the paint supplies currently and also with several people in the house, I can't paint until they're asleep or out for hours because they get in the way and stress me out.

Usually I like to wake up around 6 and take my adhd meds and first round of painkillers, then go back to sleep for an hour or two so they all kick in when I get up properly and can just go. I didn't sleep well last night however and thus didn't get to do the routine I've started developing on the adhd meds.

Instead I woke around 11:30am and took my meds after that so I'm not super active yet. Unfortunately, the one side effect I hate with a passion is rearing its head now because I didn't take the meds and go back to sleep.

Burpies.

From the lactose on the adhd meds.

Damn.

I'll need to eat to reduce the burpies and pain I get from the lactose in my stomach because of lactose intolerance ffs. But that requires moving and until my pain meds kick in, that isn't happening.

So instead I burp and lament life.

I had to sleep on the sofa last night, you see, because I offered my bed to my mother. She has her own bed but its a single and she doesn't like it because of the way the bed is against the wall, so she usually sleeps on the sofa downstairs.

She actually sleeps well on said sofa which I have no idea how she does it because I spent the entire night aware of everything even with earplugs and eye mask.

So yeah, I slept downstairs and managed like two hours of actual sleep and the rest of Awkward Awareness Of The Universe As Though I'm In A Dangerous Situation And Cannot Afford Real Rest. That was due to the fact I couldn't stretch out properly on the sofa to be honest and, really, I should have slept sat up because that probably would have been comfier for me.

Oh well.

I need to sort a box of pictures out today so it can be put back upstairs out of the way. Its downstairs currently and only down here because I want to get some pictures from it of my middle sib and I growing up so we can make copies and send them to our grandfather and family that we've gotten back in touch with.

Also, there's a photo collage frame that needs pictures in it before its put up on the wall so.

Well, after the decorating is done.

Which, incidentally, this set of life on adhd meds will turn into a decorating blog because I have up to the 20th of December to decorate the lounge, dining room, kitchen, and hallway + downstairs toilet.

The decorating includes wallpapering which I've never done before and thus have to wait on others to do or show me how. Or my brothers fiancee might do it because she can wallpaper apparently.

17 days. I have seventeen days.

With fibro and adhd and all the other household jobs and working around other people and also my period which starts in 4 days.

Fuck. My. Life.

This doesn't even include the Christmas decorations that will be put up between the 20th and 24th either.

Kill me please and thank.

Or someone buy me a vacation now. For a mountain. Scotland is great right now. I'll hide there.

[wizkiddx]

stop caring

yooo, so this is actually taken out of one of the sort of I guess series-esque things I’ve written, but it kinda just got shit at the end so I've given up and just wanted to post this instead. So sorry if some of the backstory isn't that clear or anything

tomhollandxfamous!reader

Summary: after your break up you bump into tom at a charity event and when shit hits the fan personally for you, someone who understands you is really what you need (angsty!!! maybe a bit of fluff too?)

TW: panic/anxiety attacks + mentions of assault

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3 months. 3 months you’d managed to avoid the boy that had given you the most joy in the previous years. 3 months without your best friend; of even when you’re with company feeling like a part of you was just absent. 

And you had been thriving. Well… that’s what everyone thought. That’s what you tried to portray, because no matter how ‘famous’ or ‘successful’ people perceived you to be - ultimately you were like anyone else. Making your insta pop off after the breakup. And so to the outside world, through the very very small lense of social media life was great. Parties, friends, work. 

You were a woman in demand - in all senses of the word. 

But of course, as is the 21st century world, it was a lie. Instagram showed only snapshots of what can be very long 24 hours in a day. Naturally, a select few obviously knew - your best friend, Y/f/n being one of them. Yet still you were missing that one support, that one person who would drag you back to reality whenever you got too much into your own head. It actually rather annoyed you, how dependent you had got on him, in every part of your life. 

And you really hadn’t expected to see him here today. You’d had your assistant check the guest list, he wasn’t on it. While getting ready, you had avoided all the products that reminded you of him; that soft nude lipstick he loved you in so much; your favourite (exfavourite) earrings. Had you known it, you would have worn these. Just because you knew it would get on his nerves a little bit. Nevertheless here you were, perhaps a little underdressed for the charity dinner in a dress you’d already worn before (because apparently that was a sin in the world of Hollywood). You couldn’t pin point from when, but it was simple yet elegant if you did say so yourself. A dark blue satin dress, that sat off your shoulders in a Bardot style; hugged your waist to accentuate your curves; then flowed outwards down to the floor with a slit up your right leg. It was simple compared to the sequin studded, diamanté jewelled dresses the rest of the women seemed to sport but it made you feel comfortable. 

Besides, that’s what you needed today. This was the first time after the breakup you’d attended a public event without your best friend-turned-assistant-turned-absolute-life-saver. Y/f/n had been the greatest with you all through your life but especially recently, she deserved the break to go back home and see her family. It was a pretty decent excuse too, her cousins wedding, so you were in absolutely no place to complain.

Evidently it just HAD to be this event then, while you were flying solo, that you’d be faced with…well with his face. His fucking gorgeous, perfect and oh so sweet face. 

Just seeing him, just seeing Tom fucking Holland, had the most intense burst of adrenaline course through your veins as you desperately scanned the rest of the room. Looking for an out, an excuse, someone to latch onto for the rest of the night. A distraction even. 

Never one to admit it openly, but really you knew your coping mechanism of the past months had been to sleep with who you wanted. Because the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else right? You knew it was stupid too. Not because of slut shaming or anything ( we aint got no outdated views here), but simply it wasn’t you. It wasn’t a good idea for you. It didn’t fit. 

Tom hadn’t seen you yet, so if you latched onto someone you’d likely be in the clear. So obviously, when your frantic glances landed upon Joe Keery, you literally sighed in relief. Joe was great, stranger things was a bit of a guilty pleasure for you - especially when you were in your trailer and bored. Just due to your line of work, you’d met a couple times, he seemed like decent crack and to you knowledge was single. 

Unsurprisingly then, you almost marched over to Joe, ignoring the slightly shaky feeling in your leg as your hearing seemed to focus completely on the sound of Tom’s bright laugh. 

It was your choice too. You’d chosen to end things. It was on you. Well really, both parties were equally guilty. Tom was the one who had been too tired and highly strung and exhausted to put effort into the relationship. Stupidly though, you were too in love to realise for so long, in doing so draining yourself in the process. The constant flying cross country to see him, when he couldn’t ever return the favour because he was too busy. It was chipping away at you, even if you didn’t notice. It took an intervention by your manager Davey and Y/f/n for you to see things for what they were. To see that Tom didn’t care as much as he used to. 

He tried to fight for it, of course Tom did, because he also truly and deeply loved you. Nonetheless though, it was too late. And that was it. You closed that book and returned it to the library. Something your mind occasionally drifts back to  and you think ‘huh that was a good read’ - yet that is the only space it occupies in your mind. 

OR that’s how it should be. Not you yesterday, comparing everything your date did to Tom and deciding everything was worse. Not you today, seeing him and nearly being floored by the way the suit was tailored to his body oh so exquisitely. Not you now, hearing his bubbly laughter and having to fight your muscles from taking you back into his arms. 

In short, you were highly strung and pining over a boy you’d killed your chance of happiness with. 

Not to blow your own horn, you knew Joe wouldn’t be against having your company for the evening. After all, you were a young, beautiful and upcoming actor. You were ,at the very least, self aware. And so for a good few hours you almost forgot about Toms presence, spending the time before the speeches sharing a ridiculously overpriced bottle of wine (or two) with him. He was funny. He made you laugh, even if he was pushing the limits occasionally and teetering just on the right side of socially acceptable. It was risky and in that moment, with the alcohol in your system, it made him seem more and more of an attractive shag. 

By the time the speeches started you were both overly giggly and had to keep shushing each other as the presenter called for quiet. Inherently, you knew exactly the location of Thomas - who he was sat around; the main he’d had at dinner; the brand of beer he’d been ordering.But that was subconscious. You were here with Joe. 

Under your voices, whilst getting some disapproving looks from the older, more mature, members of your table you and Joe sat through the first boring speech whispering jokes under your breath - making each other clamp their mouth shut to avoid bursting out laughing. Though tipsy, you were very aware of Joe inching closer and closer, while his hand was casually brushing yours or your shoulder or waist more often. You knew this was low, being so blatant in front of Tom. To be quite frank though, should you care? And did he care?

The answer in your head at least, was an almost certain no to both. 

One speech merged into another spent giggling away until Joe did something he didn’t mean. Heck he didn’t even know. His jesting quickly had toppled completely over into absolutely not category. Your brain felt like it was swimming as the name you’d avoided after that incident , almost ten years ago. The flashbacks came thick and fast. You an innocent young actor wanting to make a way in the industry. And him. A powerful, ridiculously important slightly overweight 50 year old with bad breath. That room in the corner of his hotel that you were completely lost in. 

You were going to be sick. 

Somewhere, distantly, you heard Joe saying something… asking you? Asking you if your were good? It was drowned out by a roar in your ears, you jerkily nodded your head. You knew your breathing was jilted, shaky and shallow. You knew your heart was exploding. It actually felt like a heart attack, the way it seemed to be beating as though it were going to break out of your chest. This time you really really needed an out. 

So without any words, leaving a bemused Joe, your chair screeched on the floor as you stood up, garnering the attention of the whole room. The heads literally swivelled to stare at you, judgement clearly there as you frantically half ran to the back of the room, pleading if your head fro the toilet to be nearby. You needed to be away from everyone and safe. 

Thankfully your escaped the room and the beady eyes, locating the bathroom where you threw a cubicle open, shakily locking it before collapsing into the wall in floods of tears, harsh sobs racking your frame as you clutched your hands to your knees and rocked slightly back and fourth. You dress being a full length ballgown was spilling out into the the nearby cubicles and under the door, but presumably you were alone in the loo - not hearing any other signs of life beyond your own sobs. 

This always happened when you had your anxiety attacks. It was like clockwork. Zone out, stop hearing, loose control of breathing, heart starts pounding, make a quick escape to a toilet, cry and then…

Well back before Tom, it had been to throw up. That was the only thing you’d ever found to ground you enough to get your body backorder your own conscious control. It was like a wave of relief after, like the drowning feeling in your lungs had just evaporated away. But the Tom happened. The first time he’d seen you panic he hadn’t a clue what to do either. SO he had just sat with you, not wanting you to be alone in that state and waited. That panic though, had lasted so long that you’d almost made yourself pass out from the hyperventilating. When that had happened, Tom had gone into emergency mode. He had been scared to touch you, in case that made you worse, but when he saw your body going limp he didn’t have a choice. He’d collected you into his arms, with your head against his chest. Being this close to calling an ambulance, the relief Tom felt when your breathing got more and more regular was unparalleled. 

Together, when he had you lying in his bed (recovered, if mortified and exhausted) was when you realised that you hadn’t been sick. And that was because of him. You’d grounded yourself on his heartbeat and breathing, listening to it and making yours sync up. Thats what had saved you that evening. 

Now however, Tom was gone. This was the first panic attack you’d had since he’d been gone. Of course while you were together you were rarely in the same place, even so you’d phone him. But not now. 

This all led to you sat clutching your knees as your mascara dripped down your cheeks as you had to fight to get enough oxygen into your body. You didn’t want to get into that vicious cycle of making yourself ill again. It really hadn’t been healthy.

Who knows how long you were sat there sobbing before you heard the door open and in response you clamped a hand to your mouth trying to stay silent. This irrational fear overcame you as you sat stock still, fearing the footsteps on the marble floor of the fancy function venue. Even the toilets were pretty posh. 

“Y/n?…. It’s-it’s Tom.” Oh. My. Fucking. God. That was all that was going through your brain as you bit you lip - presumably painfully, yet you didn’t really feel pain in your current state.  “Look I saw you leave and I know your on your own tonight… I-I couldn’t leave you on your own if your… well you know.” Everything was going so so fast in your brain, that it actually scared you into stopping crying, so much so you felt your hand flop back down to your side. “…I was waiting outside because I didn’t want to errr you know… but you’ve been 20 minutes so I need to know your good…..okay?”

The boy was too fucking good. And stubborn… he was too stubborn and you knew he wasn’t going to give in. It was also fairly evident that he knew you in here - there was no pretending you didn’t exist. 

“Y/n? Come on you gotta let me know.”

“I’m fine. You-you go.” Only when you spoke was it evident to yourself just how not-okay you really were. Tom just chuckled and spoke again.

“How long have you known me for? That’s just not going to happen is it.” You already knew this, but something about the way he said it made you realise a sad laugh, momentarily making you feel a bit more in control. He seemed to like that response, you heard him bend down and then saw the bottom of his tux as he sat down leaning against your cubicle door.

“Is …is this your first one… since?  You both know what he was talking about. Since you broke up. 

“Uhmm I-“ You swallowed down a fresh rise of nausea, somewhat determined to not throw up when you ex is barely a metre from you. “Yeh I suppose.” In didn’t seem a revelation to Tom, yet he still hummed lowly in response as the room drifted back to silence. 

“You… you wanna try to breath with me?… You don’t have to open the door just…”

Croaking a please in response because this feeling was really blood awful and you wanted it to end, Tom started exaggerating his breathes, as you shakily and eventually managed to start to time it with his. Without thinking, when Tom’s palm snuck half under the door you immediately grabbed and squeezed it - the contact helping to synchronise your body with his. 

It should be an alien feeling after your time apart. But no it felt oh so natural and so very right. 

Once you’d collected yourself and realised how bloody stupid this whole situation was  you withdrew your hand back, loosing the warmth as you shook your head in disapproval of yourself. So very fucking stupid. He was silent for a bit, letting you think things through whilst still sat outside your cubicle. 

“You good now?” You hummed in agreement and you felt Tom’s head fall against the door, looking up to the ceiling. “Want me to go?”

“If you want to” That was met with silence, but a very telling lack of movement that spoke a thousand words.

“You should get out of here… you wanna avoid the trigger again and I mean I know you’re exhausted.” The boy had researched panic disorder and attacks when he found out you suffered with it - he probably knew more of the psychology of it than you, whilst never having any first hand experience of it.  Annoyingly he was right, as per, after attacks you always always slept for hours - it was just a draining process. “I’ll get you a car if you want?…. I’d like to make sure you get back okay if you don’t mind.” With only your cold and empty residual feeling left, his words still managed to ignite a spark of warmth in your chest. 

“I’m not going to ruin your evening Tom.” You tried to refuse even if it was very very forced and very very hopeful he wouldn’t give in. 

“I was having a crappy evening. Sitting in the ladies toilet talking to my ex through a toilet door has actually been the highlight.”He chuckled playfully in a self pitying way, somehow again making you giggle. And so he had you standing on slightly unsteady feet, your black heels held in one hand because no wasn’t the time to put yourself through teetering around on pin needles. The shuffling outside the door meant Tom stood up too - before you unlocked the door and opened it. 

Prior to seeing Tom your eyes locked on the sight of your reflection, in the mirrors above the sinks opposite you. Perhaps the only way to describe it… it was a sight. The shock being in the juxtaposition between the elegant dress, which even having been crumpled on a bathroom floor had somehow managed to survive and still look near the off-the-hanger; but your face? Oh that was a shit show. You’d cried your makeup off almost completely, leaving your face blotchy and shining as well as the ever so telling smudged mascara under your bottom lash line. 

You had to laugh or you’d just start to cry.

“Don’t worry I’ve seen you much worse.” You saw in the reflection as Tom leaned in and whispered in your ear, making your eyes roll and head shake as you looked from him back to you. 

“I look like a paps dream.” Without instruction, Tom bolted into a nearby cubicle, wrapping layers of toilet roll round his hand before offering it to you as a makeshift wipe.

“This is the glamour of Hollywood don’t you know? Wiping your face with bog roll”Thankfully taking it, you offered Tom a thankful smile as he stepped back, giving you space as he leant against another cubicle pillar. Once you finished up blotting your face, Tom had already shrugged off his jacket walking toward you as he offered it out. Tilting your head to the side in a questioning manner Tom just shrugged, saying it’d help avoid the paparazzi just in case. In reality you weren’t so sure, but anyhow you still appreciated the gesture and draped it round your shoulders with a muttering of thanks. 

At this point his phone pinged, the car was outside, so without any words exchanged he led you to the door, checked the hallway was clearly before guided you back to the exit. There didn’t appear to be anybody lurking around, which you were oh so thankful for as you almost threw yourself in to the safety of the blacked out car. Tom followed and you both, almost comically as if scripted, released a sigh in unison as you melted into the seats. That had you chuckling dryly as you sat in silence. 

“You know we can’t move till you say where you’re staying?” Teasing you, Tom shot you that ever mischievous grin that made the blood rush through your skin. After you’d told the driver, the car pulled swiftly out the laibi.

“Did he…did he say something?” Tom’s demeanour had steeled up and you looked questioningly up at him. “Joe… you looked…close.”

“Oh”. You were taken aback. You should have seen this coming to be fair, him asking for the trigger this evening - and yet you were more shocked at his jealousy. How he looked pained to mention Joe by name. “Um no… well sort of…it was a joke. He didn’t mean it but it er…it took me back.” Tom knew your history, he knew what happened all those years ago and he nodded slowly , keeping his eyeline straight ahead. 

“He’s a dick.”

“No he’s not…. He- he was sweet enough . It was all me.”

“What?”

“I pushed myself on him. I-I saw you… I was spooked.” Tom left it to drift back to silence. He had a lot of thinking to do too. 

He’d obviously kept up to date with you. Call it a professional interest. That was the problem being in love with someone when you weren’t allowed to be. But it hurt like hell, especially when he heard what you were doing. Because he knew this wasn’t you. He knew you sleeping around wasn’t going to help you recover - in fact he thought (and quite correctly) it was the opposite. That long term it’d only cause you more and more pain. 

“You know, you don’t have to do this?… I-I know it isn’t you. I’m not insulting or anything I’m… I’m just worried.” You knew he was being truthful . And infuriatingly he was right. Which only made it even more annoying. 

“Why do you care though?” Looking out the window that was all you could think to say. That was your subconscious talking as you didn’t really want the answer. Or you desperately did but you knew it’d be hard to get over. 

“Y/n” He sighed, making you look across at him “I’ve not stopped caring… I’ll never stop caring.”

Wasn’t that just a knife to the heart. You held your breath momentarily, not knowing what to think (nervermind say) in response to that. Everything in that car seemed to freeze, Tom’s eyes piercing the deepest and darkest parts of your mind as he stared at you. You both really weren’t over it. You were both hurting. You missed each other.

And you were about to dive in all over again. 

But then the indicator ticked on. The car pulled to a stop. The ignition switched off by the driver. You were at your hotel. The journeys end - quite literally. 

Tom felt it too. He knew if ever there was a chance, however rogue and unlikely, of you two working things out it was within this journey. And he’d failed.

“I-uh…I-this is me” Stammering through, distracted by the way Tom’s eyes shone with disappointment. 

‘Yeh - yeh it is I guess.”

“Well er… thanks for, well you know… for saving me. You er-you really didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to”

“Yeh well er thanks…. And er-Oh! Your jacket” You realised, already tugging the tailored suit jacket from your shoulders. 

“No no it’s really okay. I have loads anyway.” See?In Hollywood you really weren’t allowed to wear the same thing twice. 

“Oh-okay. Well er….I’ll see you around I guess?”

“Can I walk you to your room, just to-check no one bothers you?” Tom was trying. Desperately trying. He could feel you slipping through his fingers again, this time he wanted to put up more of a fight. You shook your head thought, a sad smile gracing your lips. 

“I’d say yes but I think I know where that’d end up…. And I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Defeatedly nodding, Tom just smiled in a tight-lipped fashion, equally as sadly at you. 

“I’ll errr I’ll see you around.” While gathering yourself and preparing to exit the car, your hand on the door handle. Tom responded with a ‘yeh’ but before you left you leaned over and pressed a kiss to his cheek, before whispering under your breath..

“Thankyou Tom.”

part 2 ish of sorts --> link

[vivianweasley]

Pride and Prejudice (Chapter 1)

Summary: You are Draco’s cousin, and after the war, it was really difficult for you to find a job because of your last name. So your mother and Mrs. Weasley came up with a crazy idea. A fake marriage between you and Fred Weasley. 

Italics= flashback

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Malfoy!Fem!Reader

Warnings: workplace discrimination, slight slight mention of war

Word Count: 1.9k

Disclaimer: all the pictures used in the header are from Pinterest. Credit goes to the original owners.

Please do NOT repost or translate my work on another site without explicit permission! Thank you! Reblogs and comments are always welcome:)

Prologue

Two days after the dinner at the Burrow, you ran into your friend when you were shopping at Flourish and Blotts. She just got out of the Daily Prophet, and you could see a name tag on her chest stating that she’s now a reporter for the Daily Prophet.

“You got the job?” You didn’t know how to process this information. You and she were in the same year and same house. You both took the same classes, your grades were almost the same, and you both got the interview for Daily Prophet at the same time. The only difference was that she got the job, and you didn’t.

“Yes! Today’s the first day! Wait, you didn’t?” She was finding it hard to believe too.

Memories of the interview flashed back. You could still remember how the interviewer immediately furrowed his brows when he heard that your last name is Malfoy. The distrust, doubt, and even disgust on his face were so painfully visible.

You knew your background couldn’t provide any help when it comes to finding a job, but you still encouraged yourself by thinking that maybe it was because you weren’t good enough. If that’s so, you could always make up for it by working harder. But now you realized that, no matter how hard you worked, you would never be good enough for them because people would always make false assumptions about you based on your last name.

You felt dizzy. The whole Diagon Alley suddenly appeared foggy and dim, looking quite like your future, but you soon saw a lighthouse at the end of it. The brightness of the orange joke shop seemed to point out a way out for you as Mrs. Weasley and your mum’s suggestions rang in your ears.

“I need to go now!” The walk was only five minutes, but you couldn’t waste any time as you apparated right to the door of the joke shop.

“Well, this is rare!” The owner greeted you with a big grin on his face when you opened the door.

You didn’t have time to start this conversation with George, so you went right into your question, “I’m looking for Fred Weasley. Is he here?”

George was shocked as multiple questions ran through his brain. Wait, you could tell between him and Fred? But does he know you this well? Or maybe you have some history with Fred? Merlin! Y/N Malfoy? And Fred??

But he said nothing, just pointed at the back of the shop as he was still trying to process the situation.

“Thanks.” You rushed to the back of the shop and saw Fred sorting through the boxes in the storage.

“Fred Weasley.” You stated with a straight face.

“Y/N Malfoy?” Fred mimicked your tone as he still wasn’t sure what’s going on. What was this woman doing in his shop, anyway?

“Do you have a girlfriend?”

“No. Why? Do you fancy me? Did you fall in love with me after that one dinner?” he teased.

You ignored him and continued, “Do you fancy anyone? Are you dating someone? Talking to someone?”

“Not that I’m aware of?”

“Great. Let’s get married then.”

The boxes fell from Fred’s hands. This woman is absolutely mental! “I beg your pardon?”

“I said, let’s get married. After I got a steady job, we can get a divorce anytime.” You knew he’s going to laugh it off if you don’t up your game a little, so you frowned, pretending like you were disappointed, “Well, guess you don’t have the guts to do it.”

Fred knew what you were trying to do, but he was still completely under your control when you were basically giving him a dare. This should be fun, he decided. He never really hated you anyway. In fact, he actually really admired you back in Hogwarts.

Back in fifth year, Fred and George tried to prank you. It wasn’t because you did anything in particular. It was just because you were Draco Malfoy’s cousin, and Draco was really obnoxious that year.

The prank was simple. they estimated when you would walk down the stairs and set a tripwire on your way, waiting for you to trip over and fall.

Fred and George were hiding behind a pillar, waiting, but nothing happened. When you were walking down the stairs, you stopped and pulled out your wand. “Incendio,” you whispered, and the tripwire just burned into ashes.

Watching their prank being busted, the twins were frustrated. George gave up on pranking you again. It’s not like you did anything wrong anyway. But Fred suddenly felt motivated. He’s determined to get you one day.

Fred tried everything. Be it canary cream or portable swamp, you always had a way to avoid his pranks gracefully, and sometimes, the pranks would even backfire on him. After trying for a month, Fred finally admitted defeat. He admired how your brain worked, and he couldn’t help but think that if you weren’t a Malfoy, maybe you two would be really good friends.

“Who said I don’t have the guts?”

You smiled with satisfaction, for you knew your strategy worked, “Good, I will see you at the Ministry tomorrow then.”

“Wait, you could get a job, but what’s in it for me?”

You knew he wouldn’t agree so easily, so you had already prepared a plan, “How about, as long as it‘s not illegal or against my own moral standards, I can do three things for you. What do you say?”

“Deal!” The reason why Fred refused at first was that he hated being arranged and controlled by his parents. But now, when this arranged marriage became more like a game to him, he began finding it quite interesting. “The first thing I want you to do is to take care of my shop today!”

“I’m not stupid, Weasley. What if you run away after I spent the whole day working in your shop? The deal only works after I get the marriage certificate!”

Fred nodded in approval, “Not bad, Malfoy. So I will see you at the Ministry tomorrow at one pm then.”

“Deal! Don’t be late, Weasley!”

~

The next day, you were waiting at the Ministry at one pm. You repeatedly glanced at the clock  and shuffled all the documents in your hands as you paced around. 

Fred was late. Did he bail on you? Did he think you were only joking? Did he think you were a joke? Irritation and doubt rushed through your head, but you eventually calmed a bit down when you heard a familiar voice.

“Let’s just get this over with, shall we, my lovely bride-to-be?” he teased as he waltzed in.

“Not before we set some ground rules first.” You pulled him to a place where no one could hear you, and you finally took out the contract that you wrote yesterday night.

“Blimey, you actually wrote a contract?”

“Yes, Weasley, and you have to sign it,” you continued, “First, a year after I got a steady job, we will get a divorce.”

“A year?? Why does it have to be so long?”

“I don’t want the Ministry and my employer to think that I’m getting married only because I want to get a job.” You ignored his pout and went on with the list, “Second, if during this year, you actually met someone, you can date them. But you have to be discreet.”

He raised his eyebrows, “Aww, didn’t know you were such a thoughtful person.”

“Third, the fewer people know the truth, the better.”

“Sorry love, but my family already knew, and that’s already a lot of people.”

You glared at him, “You know what I mean!”

Your expression successfully elicited a small laugh from him, making you suspect that he actually enjoyed annoying you.

You rolled your eyes, “That’s all. Anything you want to add?” 

Fred shook his head, and you handed him a pen, “Brilliant!”

After signing his name on your contract, he held out his arm, “Shall we?”

You smiled, taking his arm, “We shall.”

“Fred Weasley? And Y/N Malfoy?” The lady at the Ministry looked at you and then looked at Fred several times, and finally asked in a surprised tone.

“That’s us!” Fred answered and wrapped his arm around your shoulders while you both tried to put on the biggest smile.

But her eyes were still scanning you from head to toe, and finally stopped at your fingers, “So, no rings, huh?” She was looking into your eyes as if she just found out the whole marriage was a scam. 

You cursed yourself for not remembering something this important, but your smile didn’t disappear, “Yes, Freddie and I aren’t conventional people. We don’t need a piece of metal to prove our love.”

Fred was surprised when he heard your nickname for him, but he didn’t let it show. It’s weird hearing you calling him that, but he had to admit he liked the sound of it. “That’s right, my love.”

You smiled and rested your head on his shoulder to display your affection. You wanted to stay focused so you won’t blow your cover, but hearing that pet name had caused a weird tingle in your stomach.

A few questions later, and before you could fully comprehend the situation, you were officially married to Fred Weasley. Looking at your marriage certificate, you felt surreal. Just in a few days, you and Fred went from classmates who never really talked to each other to a married couple. You two were legally bonded now, and it felt strange, but you had no time to process all these, for you had a more important task.

“Where are you going?” you heard Fred yelling behind you as you started running.

“I’ve got a job interview!”

~

The interview went well. The interviewer even thanked your husband and his family for their service during the war. You were disgusted by how people’s attitudes could change so drastically simply when you changed your last name. You didn’t fight in the war, but your family took in many muggle-born kids during those dark days, yet nobody cared. All they knew was your last name.

You walked home with mixed feelings running in your head. You knew your life was about to change, but you didn’t know if it was for better or worse. So many things have happened in the past few days, and you were just confused.

But what awaited you at home didn’t resolve any of your doubts. You saw your mum moving suitcases to the door. They were your suitcases.

“Mum, what’s going on?”

“Oh, darling, you’re back! How did the interview go?”

“It went well, I guess. Why are you moving my things out?”

“Oh, Mrs. Weasley and I figured it would look more authentic if you were staying with your husband. You know, just in case someone suspects anything.”

“Mum! But I barely know him!”

“Well, then this is the perfect chance to get to know each other!

So this was how you ended up knocking on the Weasley twins’ door at night, with all your suitcases.

The door cracked open, and Fred’s eyes widened when he saw you and your suitcases at his door.

You smiled sincerely at him, “Hello husband, mind if I stay the night?”

~

Chapter 2

A/N: this chapter is still setting things up. The next chapter will be longer!

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