#Teenagers just having fun and living their life is my favorite thing | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bahrtofane · 3 months

Text

husband Jude headcannons

jude just really really enjoys married life

Word count - 2.3K+

Watch it - i got carried away sorry guys, proposal lore?? insanely sappy, even by my standards

—--

He's not a fan of you being known as his, rather he's your husband. Always correcting people during interviews and giving you the spotlight. Even when you shy away, not knowing where to look or what to say. He's always there, a gentle hand on your knee rubbing circles as he nods for you to continue.

Every red carpet he wants to match, doesn’t care how big or small the event is. Gotta be a way you two look look a pair

His fav is when you wear exactly the same thing so there’s no way to confuse anything for what it really is hehe

Bouncing around while you get ready together, helping you get your shoes on while he tries his best to stand still while you fix his tie

“Look okay?” he asks, head tilted

You rub his arm, “you look great.”

And he smiles wide, giving you pecks all over while you giggle, trying to shoo him away from you and closer to the door. your ride is waiting, but he doesn’t care. pouting for just one more kiss. please ?

All his socials turn into your personal fan page, a big fat married in every bio, ring and all

He has more posts about you then his actual job

His teammates poke fun at it, “when are you gonna post us huh?”

He just rolls his eyes,”when I marry you i’ll think about it”

And that’s that

You're the first he runs to post a match, greeting you with the silly hand shake you perfected years ago. You think you could do it in your sleep at this rate. You came up with it ages ago when you kissed him after practice, playing with his fingers till he came up with the idea, and you with the actual hand shake.

You're his biggest supporter, and him likewise. In every and anything you do, give him pompoms and he'd be your personal cheerleader at this point.

He just likes to have you at games. Waving obnoxiously while you tell him to pose. And he does, every time, sending hearts your way. He dedicates his goals your way. The kisses he would send the crowd in his youth now only go your way where you catch them like a teenager.

You see complications of it everywhere, he thinks it's endearing. He makes you watch them together on the living room tv while you grimace

“My face looks so weird there, oh my god.”

He flicks your arm, “you look great shush. Ha that was during el clasico, ah good times.”

You roll your eyes but snuggle up against him anyway.

One of your favorite past times btw, nothing he loves better than a lazy morning in with you in his arms while he hits snooze on every alarm.

He tries to cook, with his stupid kiss the chef apron he got just for you. but he will need help, which you gladly give. You end up eating on the couch, covered in pillows watching cheesy shows. You've watched keeping up with the kardashians too many times to count and he still laughs out loud every time.

Jude is soft and sweet when he's not forced into a picture perfect smile and self 24/7. He's a silly guy, always trying to make you laugh. Teasing is his love language by the way.

But he's still sweet, leaving notes around your house for you to find when he has to leave for away games. Hearts and smiley faces littering every inch of the paper. Some frowny faces when he knows he'll miss you extra.

He likes bringing you to family events and bragging about how cool you are, but everyone already loves you as is, he just likes to brag. Look at how cool the love of my life is everyone, I am sooo lucky you guys look look.

Jobe has rolled his eyes far too many times, but he's happy to see his brother so happy. Plus you guys threw a fantastic wedding. A win is a win.

When you can't be there he facetimes you every second he possibly can. Blowing kisses when he has to go.

“Judes been complaining all day I hope you know,” Aurélien pops his head into the screen.

You snort, “ hello to you too Aurélien.”

He gives you a wave before ruffling the top of Judes hair as he pouts, fixing it just how he likes again, “they just don't get it,” he sighs dramatically.

You laugh, “sure baby, sure.”

You make sure to keep up with the match the best you can, texting him live reactions, even if you know he won't see them till later. He likes them all the same.

Your name on his phone is a simple "mine" with a bunch of heart emojis, the contact pic is one of the two of you together on vacation, smiling with your faces squished together while laying in the sand

It makes him smile every time. he thinks you’re the cutest

He's a big fan of nicknames, weather its a version of your first name, or just a good ole fashion baby. He rarely uses your actual name. He called you something so insane like pooki bear in public once and you have yet to let him live it down.

"in a restaurant was crazy," you squint at him.

He only giggles, "but it was soo funny baby come on."

Speaking of restaurants, this guy loves a good date night

Gigdy as he comes down the hall in his pjs, grinning while showing you the new reservations, it’s your fav place !

Every anniversary he somehow finds a way to outdo himself, don't ask, because in truth he doesn't even know how he pulls it off, but anything for you. Anything.

Even if it means hunting down the stuffed animal you had as a kid and couldn't find after you lost it in your couch cushions. He finds it, after months and months of searching, making Jobe help him look, it comes in the mail and he has to get creative to get you out of the house and away from the mail the day it's supposed to come.

It gets neatly wrapped and placed on your shared bed the morning of, surrounded by a collection of other gifts, your favorite flowers, and a cheesy note that you always end up crying at.

The look on your face makes it all worth it, when you tackle him in a bone crushing hug, tumbling into the covers in a tangle of legs while you laugh in between sniffles, he loves you. Oh how he loves you

It's been a tradition to end the night with the very place he proposed, his home, now yours.

He doesnt think he could forget it even if he tried. It was a whirlwind of a day. Picture this:

He's lost all his black socks, his (and your) favorite body wash just spilled all over the shower, his hair looks awful ( he got a haircut that morning), his cologne isn't where he left it, and the private chef he hired isnt replying. All while you're not even awake yet.

He calls his mom because what else are you supposed to do when you're set to propose and everything is going wrong.

She only chuckles softly over the phone, “calm down jude, just breathe. You'll find your things, just take a breather and come back to things with a clear head okay?”

So he does. Sitting on his bed, towel still on, frowning. He chooses to instead pat himself dry, get dressed, and give himself a pep talk in the floor length mirror at the corner of his room.

Turns out his mom was right, things fix themself for the most part, his socks are stuck at the bottom of the dryer, his hair isn't as bad as he thought, he finds a better cologne in his collection, and a perfect body cream. It's gonna be a good day.

He finishes the last of the day of prep, getting fancy candles, a lighter, and greeting the decorator. Yes he hired a decorator.

It's nothing over the top, just little changes to make his home look a little softer, changing out the curtains, placing lace table cloth with details in your favorite color. The main event is his second living room that gets covered in an arch of your favorite flowers, gentle curling to just kiss the top of the new antique chandelier that will be holding the fancy candles too. He hopes you like it. He really really hopes you like it.

He's had this planned for ages, since the moment he first met you he thinks.

When you greet him with a silly good morning text he only grows oh so fond of you, excited to see you. He told you it was a fancy dinner at his place. A change of pace from the resurates. Both of you prefer a much more intimate night in then cameras shoved into your face while a hundred people all yell a hundred things while you're trying to chew your food.

So you get ready, dress up and make it for dinner. When you see the familiar face of the chef, Karlos, you give him a wave and get seated. Noticing the new table cloth but you don't say anything. You don't want to be wrong so early into the night.

Jude comes in, nervous as a school boy as he takes your hand for a quick peek, running around like a maniac back and forth. He looks nice, in a signature all black suit, and smelling amazing per usual.

Dinner is amazing, full of your favorite courses and Jude is jittery in his seat.

“You okay?”

He nods, a little too fast, “oh yeah. I am. Don't worry.”

You raise a brow but dont push, thanking Karlos for the amazing meal as he cleans up and heads out for the night.

Jude gets up, telling you to stay put while he'll be righttt back. Don't worry, remember!

He comes back, unable to meet your eyes while he gives you his hand. You take it, sliding out of your seat and following him down the hall. There's flower petals on the floor now, you look at him, but he looks anywhere but at you, chewing his cheek.

He leads you to the second living room, where the furniture has been cleared out. Replaced by a walkway of flowers and candles, leading up to where an arch of your favorite flowers hugs the curtain, new ones.

Gently pulled back to reveal the floor to ceiling windows that give way to his yard. And the most gorgeous sunset you have ever seen. A chandelier hangs above you, decorated with more flowers, and the most ornate candles and bulbs you have ever seen.

Your eyes begin to water before he even gets down on one knee, his lip wobbles, holding your hand the whole time as he confesses every little moment and reason for his love.

He loves you, he adores you. You're- youre everything. Truly and fully. You're the sunlight that kisses his skin, the stars he wishes to touch, to know, he yearns for you. Years to know you in your entirety, till he knows nothing else but you. For your name to only fully know his lips, for only he will fully know you. He sees no other, he knows no other. He wants- no needs, to give himself as he is.

You see him, see him as more than just Jude Belingham. You see what others can not, will not. You see him, you know him. You know him better than he knows himself most days. You've seen all there is to see, all that makes him who he is. You know his stupid sandwich order at the place you hate but keep going to because you know how much he loves it.

You sit in freezing weather for the full game just to make sure you don't miss a second of him. The first to congratulate him, the first to mourn with him, the first to sooth his aches and pains. You're the face he looks for in a crowd, you're the first person he calls when anything happens.

And you love him with such ferocity it amazes him.

You're full crying at this point, fat tears rolling down your cheeks till you can barely see him, and he finally gets down on one knee, fishing out a small velvet box from his inner pocket, opening it with shaky hands.

And he whispers, “will you marry me?”

You fall next to him, sobbing into his shoulder while you repeat yes over and over. He cries with you, till you're both laughing from pure joy.

Who better to spend the rest of your life with then the man who loves you so?

Telling his family is the best part. You have them over for what was supposed to be a quick lunch, turned dinner, and you break the news at dessert, showing off your ring while they all gasp.

They pile you into the biggest hug, smiles so wide they hurt and you laugh, you're going to get married! You think they just might be more excited than you are.

Wedding planning comes and goes both so fast and so slow. Youre so excited you can't wait, and yet every step of the way seems like it takes excruciatingly long.

Your wedding planner tries her best, bless her soul, but you want it to be completely and utterly perfect. Down to the types of chairs at the venue.

Jude lets you have your way for the most part, chiming in now and again, he trusts you fully. Knowing you're going to make it the best regardless.

Leading up to the big day you think you just might pass out from stress and never be seen again, but the almost year of planning pays off, and you're married!

The honeymoon is spent traveling all over while jude is wide-eyed, unable to believe he's married to you of all people.

The press catches on soon after, even if your wedding was small and intimate. News comes out one way or another.

Jude only responds with a picture of you two slow dancing among your family and friends, captioned, “all you need to know.” and he pins it to every social media page.

What a man huh?

#jude x reader #jude bellingham #jude x you #jude fluff #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham x you #jude x y/n #jude bellingham one shot #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham fanfic #jude bellingham fluff #football fanfic #bahr footy #footy fic #footballer fic

998 notes · View notes

nomazee · 7 months

Note

Silly little thing I thought of

Like like imagine dazai and the reader have been friends for years like the reader knew him since his 15 goofer era... and they got used to eachother sm they usually sleep in eachothers beds n stuff :3

LIKE SOMETHING IS GOING ON BUT THEY STILL HAVE THE FRIENDSHIP LABEL.. 🐺🤞

this concept stuck itself in my head like a tapeworm and it has not escaped me for days IM ACTUALLY OBSESSED i wrote SO MUCH for this omfg i had so much fun writing this thank u for this wonderful idea pairing: dazai x gn reader word count: 2.5k content: fluff, vignette-style writing, friends-to-lovers unspoken label type of thing, soft dazai, domestic fluff without the marriage bit, banter, idiots in love im taking requests!

===

Dazai’s toes are still as frigid at night as they were seven years ago. You, of all people, would be the best person to measure this—not in a weird way, but you two have shared a bed at least once a week since your teenage years. You know all of Dazai’s annoying sleeping habits, including his ones of sleeping without socks and digging his feet into your shins for warmth.

Annoying fucker. You sigh, batting his arm away from its loose hold around your waist. “Get your toes off of me,” you croak out, half-conscious and mind still addled with the remains of your once-deep sleep.

“What toes,” Dazai mutters back, smacking your intervening hand away and returning his arm to its rightful place around you. “I don’t have toes. I got rid of them after puberty, ‘member?”

“I’m gonna kill you.” You won’t, not really, and the threats have lost their edge after all these years, but it’s fun to throw at him when he annoys you like this. “I know all your weaknesses, Osamu. One wrong move and you’ll be missing more than just your toes.”

“I’m cold, dear. Would you really let me freeze like this? So mean.”

You try not to choke up at the nickname. He’s been a fan of those recently, at least in the last year. You think it has something to do with your new places at the Agency. New workplace, new life, and new nicknames, apparently. If you overthink it you might puke on him and fall back asleep.

“Not cruel. We have money now, you know. Go buy yourself socks. Wool, or something. Stupid ass cold ass toes.”

He goes quiet. Even in all these years of knowing him, half-living with him, you can’t tell if it’s a normal lull in the conversation or a calculated pause. It doesn’t unnerve you as much as it used to, but there’s still a cold chill at the nape of your neck that springs up at times like these.

“Why would I do that when I have you?”

Dazai has also been a fan of this recently—strange uncharacteristic moments of tenderness. He peels himself back for you and bares himself raw. The implications make you nauseous. Swathed in the darkness of the night, he can’t see your fingers twitch from where they lay next to your head, away from his sight; or the conflicted expression that crosses your face.

Easing your breath out into a steady, deep rhythm, you pretend to be asleep. It’s not like he can’t tell, but the message is there. Let’s not talk about this until the morning. Let’s just sleep for the night. Let’s keep what we have and not change it for the worse.

At age eighteen, shaken with the death of his friend and haunted by blood stains on his fingers, Dazai defects from the mafia.

He doesn’t take you with him—at least, he doesn’t mean to. He expects to leave quietly, or as quietly as blowing up Chuuya’s car can be. He doesn’t expect you to drag yourself along kicking and screaming.

Dazai doesn’t remember much about specifics, but he knows that one day he was alone in his underground apartment and the next day you were there. The kitchen smelled like melted marshmallows and rice krispies and his dingy counter was covered in sprinkles.

“Hi, Dazai,” you’d greeted conversationally. “I’m making your favorite.”

He doesn’t even like rice krispie treats. Hates them, actually.

In truth, your presence is less the result of you “kicking and screaming” and more like an after-effect of your own quiet stubbornness. Your kicking-and-screaming was done in the passive aggressive way that you cleaned his dishes and made his bed and left big trays of rice krispie treats in his fridge for the next week.

Neither of you talked about Chuuya. It was better for you that way.

On the first night, Dazai remembers you holding him from behind, forehead pressed into the stretch of skin between his neck and shoulder. He’s sensitive there despite being wrapped in his stupid scratchy bandaids. His memories for the rest of the night are overrun by a feeling of want, an itch to feel your fingers on his bare skin, a craving for your hand on his stomach to slide beneath the hem of his shirt and press into the tender skin of his abdomen and keep him warm.

===

“Leave me alone,” you grumble from behind the sleeve of your jacket. “I’m napping.”

“It’s not napping if you’re still awake.”

“I wouldn’t be awake if it wasn’t for your annoying ass.” Rotating your body to face the ceiling from your place on the Agency’s couch, you sigh when your view is blocked by Dazai’s ugly stupid face. He’s smiling in that conniving way that he does when he’s about to do something super annoying. Another sigh escapes you when he leans down close enough for the overgrown ends of his hair to brush against your nose. The puff of air from your verbal discontent makes the strands sway slightly. You try not to think about how mesmerizing he looks when he’s this close, with the light from the window casting a golden sheen on the crown of his head.

Since when did you get this sappy? Must be Dazai rubbing off on you, obviously.

“So tired already! It’s barely noon.”

“You came into work an hour ago. I’ve been here since eight. Try being responsible for a change, might exhaust you just as much.”

“Hmm.” He tilts his head, big stupid shiny brown eyes blinking down at you like he’s observing a specimen. “I think I’m more than responsible enough.”

“Sure,” you relent, turning back around to shove your face into the corner of the couch and block out the incoming light. It’s the truth—you’re exhausted. A persistent weariness permeates your bones from how much you’ve been working these last few weeks. It’s not like it’s anyone’s fault in particular, not even Dazai’s despite how much he slacks on paperwork. But looming threats from enemy organizations hang over everyone’s heads and there’s no shortage of uncertainty in the Agency. It’s been mission after mission for you, and you’re taking every break you can get.

Rustling sounds from above you, but you pay it no mind, busying yourself with nestling all of your body into the crevices of the couch and hopefully turning into a piece of furniture yourself. It might be a more peaceful life, really. The calm is short-lived when you feel fingers tap along your cheek—not in a rousing gesture, but something along the lines of placating.

Dazai squeezes a hand beneath your head and cups the side of your face pressed against the couch, tilting it closer to him before you feel a warm press of lips against your cheek. He lingers. He always does. You can feel the gentle inhales and exhales breeze against your face before he breaks his kiss away. Your cheek is warm for more reasons than one.

“Take care of yourself,” and oh, god, you’ll never get used to this, never get used to how tender and soft he’s become with you, never get used to how this Agency has fostered something like kindness in both of you. Your stomach stirs with something unnamed and if you were braver, you’d blink your eyes open and reach up and grab the sides of his face and pull him down to you.

But you’re not brave, and there’s people still behind you in the office, and you wonder what led Dazai to be soft enough to kiss your face like that in front of everyone. You’re sure they’re watching you both. The Agency is full of gossips, whether they admit it or not.

===

“Dazai,” Ango Sakaguchi grits out from behind the crackling reception of a burner phone. “They were not a part of the plan.”

“You think I don’t know that, Ango?” Dazai replies, tone more playful than aggressive. “I know they’re not a part of the plan. They knew they weren’t part of the plan, too. But it’s too late to do anything about it. It’s just a minor change.”

“A minor change?” Ango’s voice is strained with stress, no doubt pulling out strands of his hair as they speak. “I have to deal with not one, but now two members of the mafia defecting. Do you know how much work this was to begin with?”

The thing is—of course Dazai knows. He knows everything. The minute he found you in his kitchen, his stomach dropped with the uncertainty of the future. Going underground with another person was nothing short of a burden, at least on paper. But, he couldn't find it in himself to think of you like that. Like a burden.

“We’ll figure it out, Ango. If you don’t, then we will.”

A gritty sigh sounds from the other side of the phone call. “I’m putting a lot of faith in you, Dazai. Don’t screw this up.”

===

“Made you lunch. Since, obviously, you’re not gonna do that for yourself any time soon.”

A closed plastic container is thrown on the counter in front of Dazai. He looks at it, then up at you, eyebrow raised as if he doesn’t have a clue what this could be about. He’s not that stupid, though. You of all people would know that.

“How nice of you! Too bad I’m not hungry.” His lip juts out in a poor imitation of a pout, and he looks ugly with it. So ugly. Ugly enough to make you feel the need to kiss him all over and then slap him. An incredulous huff escapes you.

“I don’t care if you’re hungry. Eat. It has crab in it, see, your favorite.”

“I thought my favorite was rice krispies?”

You freeze. It hadn’t occurred to you that he might remember that, after all this time. You don’t dwell, because that’s the worst thing to do with Osamu Dazai—dwell.

“Don’t act stupid. Just eat it. Even if it’s not the whole thing, at least some of it. It would do you some good.” Getting serious with Dazai is one of the most awkward, unbearable things you could ever do. He has a way of making you feel stupid for worrying about him, with all his roundabout jokes and skills of evasion built up over years. You’ve found that being straightforward is the best way to avoid all those blank moments of silence.

His fingers curl around the plastic lid and pop it open. The container is still warm, having cooked all its contents just half an hour before showing up at Dazai’s apartment with conviction in your eyes. “Sure,” he says. “I’ll have some.”

You bring out a duplicate container with a serving for you, and treat yourself to a juice box from his fridge. You try not to launch into a lecture at the sight of his barren pantry—that’s best done by Kunikida. The both of you eat in silence, sitting across from each other at Dazai’s dusty kitchen island.

He only gets through a few bites before pushing the container away and complaining about how full he is. You know it’s not the truth, but it’s the mixed-up signals that his body sends him. It’s not that he’s full, but his persistent lack of appetite has caused a lot of troubles for him in the past and you don’t doubt that it’ll keep causing troubles in the future, too.

“Let’s get you to bed, then,” you tell him, dragging him up from his chair despite his whining protests. “I won’t make you shower, but you should probably do that tomorrow, ‘cause your hair’s about to get all greasy and disgusting.”

“So crude.”

“I do my best.”

You let him change on his own, but not before picking out a nice soft set of matching pajamas from deep inside his closet. You grumble a little in annoyance. The set was a birthday gift you got for him a year ago and that asshole pushed it to the back of his wardrobe and never touched it again. What a brat. You throw a pair of fuzzy socks at him to boot.

Once he’s changed into proper sleep clothes, you can tell that the exhaustion is starting to hit him. He sways a little on his feet and his blinks last for a little too long, as if he’s chasing sleep every time his eyes shut. With another begrudging sigh, you set him down on the floor of the bathroom and dollop his toothbrush with fruity kid’s toothpaste—because of course that’s the only toothpaste he owns—and brush his teeth for him.

Dazai dozes off in the middle of it, and you can’t bring yourself to wake him up in the most annoying way possible. You try really, really hard to not think about how soft you’ve gotten. You’re an ex-mafia member, past coated with dark stains and entrails and death, all of those dark things. Your blood is just as black as Dazai’s, if not more. And yet, being a part of this stupid Detective Agency with this stupid man has melted you down into something parallel to good.

Don’t dwell. It’ll do you no good.

You use a gentle grip with the toothbrush, ensuring that his delicate gums don’t tear with the force of the bristles. A warm feeling stirs in your chest. It feels like you’ve proven something, like you’ve proven to the world that your coal-stained hands can be gentle, too. You can kill and you can nurture. You tap Dazai awake with a little more care, now.

“Rinse your mouth,” you tell him in a whisper. “Then you can sleep.” And after a pause, you add, “I promise,” because now you’re in the business of making promises to people.

Dazai rinses his mouth, and you wipe off the remaining droplets of water from his face with a paper towel that you leave on the counter for your future self to throw out. You lace your fingers with his as you walk to his bed. Not that he needs any guiding. Of course he doesn’t. It’s just a little extra insurance, you think.

“Stay with me,” he mumbles out the minute you lay him down on the bed. It’s a sentence, and not a question, because he’d rather die than ask you something so vulnerable. He’s doing it again—peeling himself back and baring himself raw for you. Your head swims and your vision blurs with either a migraine or with tears, you can’t tell. But your lips quirk up into a stupid smile and he sees it despite his half-lidded eyes, and he smiles back like the stupid dope that he is.

“Yeah, of course. I’m right here, Osamu. Go to sleep.”

And he does. Of course, not before he feels you cup the opposite side of his face and plant a warm, lingering kiss on the swell of his cheek just as he did for you weeks before. The faint laugh that he lets out before he falls asleep is enough to tell you that he’ll be making fun of you for it in the morning. For now, though, he’s soft and pliant and warm between your hands, and you sleep.

#dazai osamu x reader #dazai x reader #osamu x reader #bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #osamu dazai x reader #dazai x you #dazai osamu x you #dazai osamu fic #bungo stray dogs fic #bsd x you #bungou stray dogs x you #dazai osamu #i forgof how to tag hejkp me #openeing up comissions soon... maybne....#this was so fun to write like it lived in my brain for a week and i wrote a little bit every day #i had DAYDREAMS ABOUT THIS CONCEPT BRO LIKE

776 notes · View notes

shadeysprings · 5 months

Text

A Toast to New Beginnings

—Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Summary — Reconnecting with your childhood best friend was supposed to be a wonderful experience—until it wasn't.

Warnings — noncon/dubcon, drugging, implied kidnapping, childhood best friends to lovers with a dark twist, possessive Bucky and more that I could have forgotten.

Word Count — 1.7K

A/N — My second entry for @thebasementspouses The 12 Men of Christmas Writing Challenge. And it was such a thrill to write for Bucky again. As soon as I was able to choose what item to pair with him, my mind just went berserk. I mean, how could you not?!

Shoutout to my beta @sgt-seabass. But all mistakes are mine alone.

As always, your feedback is highly appreciated and your reblogs would be amazing. And of course, I hope y'all enjoy! ❤️

“It’s really good to see you again, Bucky.”

The smile you give him is mirrored on his face as he takes your empty plate, stacks it with his, and places them in the sink.

It’s been years since you last saw him, years since you ran away from home and established a new life in the city. You thought he would be angry for leaving him, your only friend in your small town, after you had both promised to be there for each other no matter what.

Though life back then was tough and unpredictable. And as a teenager, it gave you no choice but to leave everything behind, to escape the hardships. Including him.

The years seem to have worn on him with the way he’s grown. You couldn’t believe that this is the same Bucky you knew who roughed up the kids that made fun of you, and stole lollipops from the local store just because you wanted them. He was reckless back then, a bad boy as the old women called him. But now, he seems like an entirely different person and yet at the same time familiar. Like home.

Gone is the long hair you’ve always known him to have, recalling how he beat up the boys who teased him for it, and loved how his mother would comb it out for him despite saying how much he disliked it. Now, his hair is neatly trimmed with the shadow of his beard just kissing his face. He’s also grown bigger; muscles bulged from his shoulders and arms, almost making his navy henley shirt too tight for him.

Guilt suddenly swirls around you, twiddling your fingers together as you remain seated at table and watch him tidy up the kitchen. You even take the time to observe his apartment—a complete bachelor’s pad. But you can’t help but notice the small touches he’s added that reminds you of his childhood home.

He’s never brought up the past once since you met last week by chance at the grocery store. Never once has he shown any emotions of betrayal for what you’ve done. But with you, it’s all you’ve been thinking about after parting ways and agreeing to his invitation to reconnect.

“You remember my mama’s eggnog back then?” He says, disrupting your train of thought, a smile still ever present on his lips when you look up at him.

You smile once more, the memory washing over you like a wave. “How can I forget? She always made mine with chocolate.”

“You always were her favorite,” he laughs heartily. “Liked you more than her own son.”

“Well, she always did want a girl. And I’m the closest thing to a daughter she’ll ever have,” you say with equal mirth.

“Yeah, yeah. Go sit on the couch.” Bucky instructs with a playful inflection in his voice. You stand from the dining table, already making your way to the living room. “I’ll bring you a mug before I give you your present.”

“Present?” That surprises you.

Taking a seat on the couch, you finally notice a small red box sitting on the low coffee table, your name written on the card. You didn’t know he was preparing something for you, and you came to his place empty handed. If the situation were different, if this were to happen in the past, you would have teased each other about it. But with so much time wedged between the both of you, you can’t help but feel another bout of remorse and realize how much things have changed.

“Here you go.”

You look up at Bucky and take the offered mug, the warmth radiating in your palms. He joins you on the couch, a mug for himself in his hand, and a smile grazes his face when he takes a sip. His blue eyes cast over at you, curiosity present.

“You’re sad.” He says, turning in his seat to face you completely. “Did something upset you?”

Placing your drink on the table, you clasp your hands tight and stare blankly into nothing. Of course something upset you. Everything since Bucky came back into your life upset you. It wasn’t because he was part of the past you wanted to forget but more so because you abandoned him.

Yet here he is, making you meals and your favorite drink, the gift adding to the pain that you desperately keep hiding deep in your chest.

“Bucky— I—”

“You don’t have to say anything.” You look over at him when he interrupts, his mug now sitting beside yours. “You did what you had to do, I know. It took time to accept it, but I eventually did.” His hands then envelop yours, his warmth seeping into your skin. There’s a slight smile on his face, the same one that always brought you comfort whenever something troubled you.

Slowly, he reaches over to give your cheek a gentle pinch, ultimately making you chuckle at the childish gesture. Your mug is placed between your palms, and he takes his all the same, sipping on it before nodding in your direction.

“Go on. Mama’s eggnog always makes you feel better during the holidays,” he urges.

“Well, she always made mine special,” you respond, sticking your tongue out playfully at him, and take a heavy gulp of the warm beverage. But your face twists when you swallow, a sour aftertaste scattering on the surface of your tongue that makes you look at your mug, then at Bucky.

“Is something wrong?” He asks in concern.

“No,” you say, trying to appease him, but the cough you release lets him know otherwise. “Just— I don’t remember it being this bitter.”

“Shit. I must have added too much cinnamon in it.” There’s a frown on his lips as he stands from his seat, holding his hand out for the mug. “I can make you a new one if you like. Probably hold back on the cinnamon this time.”

“Oh, don’t bother.” You tell him, schooling your features as you take another sip. “It’s still good. But maybe I can have a glass of water with it?”

“Already on it.”

You take another mouthful as he leaves for the kitchen, hoping to get used to the bitter aftertaste. But it’s an endeavor you stop, placing the mug back on the coffee table and instead reaching out for the red box to guess its contents.

But your heart begins to beat at a rapid pace, hands shaking uncontrollably, and you gasp when you feel your muscles tighten then loosen altogether, making you lean back against the cushions of the couch like a wilted flower as you try to decipher what’s happening. You try to call for Bucky to help you in your mysterious ordeal, but no matter how hard you try, no words leave your lips. And in just a matter of seconds, you’re rendered helpless and incapacitated.

Your eyes widen when you see Bucky return, eyes cast down on you as he sets the glass of water beside your mug. He says nothing, not even questioning how you’ve come to be this way, yet there seems to be no sense of urgency permeating through him. And instead, he lets out a chuckle when he takes your legs from the floor and lifts them up to the couch.

“Well, what do you know! It does have a fast reaction time,” he says with a grin, taking a seat at your side and reaching over to caress your face.

What? He did this on purpose? But why?

Confusion runs wildly in your head as tears stream down your cheeks. You feel nothing yet everything all at once; the sound of his heavy breaths when he leans closer, the heat that flutters on your skin when he grazes his fingertips against it, and the sight of his intense stare, how the blue of his eyes grow bolder, the concern and, dare you say, love in them earlier replaced with hunger, possessiveness and something darker.

“After years of waiting, I finally have you, my Dove.”

That name.

It’s been years since you’ve heard it. And it was only him and his mother who called you as such. The name that used to bring you joy each time you heard it. Yet now, it elicits fear in your chest.

Sapphire orbs bores into your eyes while his hand caresses your cheek. “Unlike before, I won’t let you go that easily.” His hand snakes down to your neck, then lower to your breast, taking a tit in his hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. “In all honesty, you did this to yourself. If you never left me, we would never be in this situation. We could have been married. Living a simple life on the outskirts of town. Maybe even here in the city.” Releasing your breast, he pushes his hand lower, skating down your blouse and stopping just at the edge of your jeans. With deft hands, he undoes the button and pulls down the zip, your chest pounding as you foresee the coming events, wanting to kick him away from you—but it’s no use.

You no longer see your childhood best friend, your protector through the years. What you see is a stranger, a monster, here to haunt you through the next.

He’s strong, pulling the fabric off your thighs and tossing them haphazardly to the ground. He then stands, eyes raking over your body, and you’re once more stricken with fear when he starts to undo his pants.

“Now, I’ll make sure that you never leave me,” he continues, kicking his pants away and taking your legs in his hands, lifting them over his shoulders as he kneels before you.

You do nothing but watch in horror and feel his ministrations when he pushes your panties aside and presses his thumb against your clit. He rolls it slowly, teasing, dampening your cunt with each stroke he makes, pulling at the pleasure you desperately tamp down, but all your efforts are useless with your body subdued.

He lines his cock against your cunt, feeling the way he rubs the tip against your folds, taunting to penetrate at any moment.

“This time, I’ll make sure we’ll be together forever.”

#bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes x reader #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #a toast to new beginnings #tbschristmaschallenge #mcu #tfatws #sebastian stan characters #shadeysprings fics

275 notes · View notes

pagannatural · 2 months

Text

2.01

In My Time of Dying

-Dean looks like he’s witnessing a miracle when he first sees at Sam at the hospital.

-Sam can hear and/or sense Dean at least three times while Dean’s unconscious. He’s the only one. He can’t do this with anyone else at any point. Further evidence their connection is metaphysical.

-Dean references Ghost, a movie about a woman and the ghost of her lover. 👀

-Sam is appalled that John can think of anything but Dean when Dean might die, but Sam was ready to blow right past the possibility of saving John in order to get revenge last episode. One thing about Sam is that he really loves Dean more than anyone else and he won’t say it, but it comes out at times like these. I think Sam would feel pathetic if he actually said it.

-Sam is unwilling to entertain the idea of Dean dying. He sees the car and says that when he gets better he’s gonna want to fix it, and Sam knows his brother because he’s absolutely right.

He won’t let Bobby scrap Dean’s car, which is a metaphor for Dean’s life. Sam is ready to accept whatever condition Dean wakes up in. It’s also cute that Sam sees the impala as Dean’s, not John’s. It makes me wonder how many drives Dean took Sam on when they were younger, if Dean often snuck him away for little hang-outs like the fireworks. If they started lying on the hood looking at the stars when they were teenagers.

-That moment Sam says “felt like Dean” is this moment in the hallway outside of Dean’s hospital room

so what Sam is feeling as Dean is this reassuring, caretaking, determined presence promising not to leave him and promising to fight.

-The spirit board scene is one of my favorite scenes ever. What is it about this scene? There’s this sweet innocence to it, and the fact that they’re reaching across a veil to communicate because they just can’t let go of each other. It makes their relationship look really intimate and separate from everyone else. Sam saying “don’t make fun of me,” Dean grumbling that he feels like he’s at a slumber party, Dean sitting across from Sam and watching him. That moment when Dean touches the planchette, Sam is so happy to actually feel him, and Dean is in awe that he can. They need this contact.

Sam goes “it hasn’t been the same without you, Dean” and then the planchette moves and he says “Dean, what?” and then “Dean is it after you?” Sam really likes saying Dean’s name. He says it all the time. People like saying their crush’s names.

-Sam sits on Dean’s bed, his knee against Dean’s leg, and looks at Dean’s face. Ghost-Dean stands next to Sam, looking at Sam’s face. There’s something really intimate about them gazing at each other like this, with Sam not knowing Dean is looking at him too. They wouldn’t be talking so intimately if Dean were lying there looking back at Sam. Kind of like when you’re talking to someone before bed with the lights out and it feels easier to say what you mean.

-“We were just starting to be brothers again.” If this is them just getting started at being brothers again I would kill to see what they were like at their worst closest.

There’s so much in the word “brother” for them. It comes up over and over. I don’t think they ever do this with any other relationship word- neither ever tries to explain their love for John by saying “he’s my dad” with tears in their eyes. It’s like a sacred title. There’s no way they can express what they are to each other, so they use this word that’s only ever applied to each other and that carries their whole history.

The point their relationship has reached now is that Sam trusts Dean completely, Dean needs Sam, and they’re each others’ top priorities. Were they like that right up until Stanford or did something happen before then?

John wrote in his journal about them not getting along as well as they used to when Sam gets into his teens, and speculates that it’s from living in Dean’s shadow. But John was also aware that his boys had their own world that he didn’t have access to, and even very attentive parents often miss quite a bit of what’s going on with their teenage kids.

What we see in teen-era flashbacks is a Sam who resents Dean for being “cool,” a Dean being protective of Sam but also respectful. We see a girl who’s dating Dean only because she thinks maybe he’s not as much of a tool as he seems based on how sweet he is to his little brother. We have Dean and Sam burning down a field when they sneak away to light fireworks, Sam wrapping his arms around Dean’s waist in delight. And we have Sam only wanting to talk to Dean about a case over the phone-not John- and asking for Dean’s advice. They were still close. We know Sam ran away from home once and Dean was out of his mind worried before finding him.

And based on “Providence” Sam and Dean both know Sam feels some type of way about Dean, which would’ve happened pre-Stanford.

And then Sam didn’t tell Dean about Stanford and they didn’t talk for years and Dean thinks Sam must hate him and Dean hates himself but Sam looks at him like a puppy in love. And now “we were just starting to be brothers again.” I wonder what happened for them to both know why Sam isn’t interested in dating when he’s with Dean, and if it had to do with this.

-Sam asks “can you hear me” to an empty room- Ghost Dean isn’t there. It shows how alone Sam feels without Dean.

-Dean objects to dying because he thinks Sam will die without him. This would be an insane thing to think in any other circumstances but I can see why he would think that (see: the babysitting years, the fire at Stanford, etc).

-Sam loves Dean so ferociously. He fights hard for him. He’s protective of Dean to John the whole episode, and it makes me think he’s always been mad at John not just for himself but for Dean too.

-John tells Dean he will have to either save Sam or kill him. Dean’s contract with John previously was always to save and care for Sam. Now saving him has a different and more religious meaning.

-So John thanks Dean for taking care of both him and Sammy, tells him he may have to kill Sam, and then dies. Iconic.

#samdean #supernatural #spn meta #wincest #sam and dean #spn 2x01

147 notes · View notes

larkandkatydid · 7 months

Text

🎶🎶When You're Living in Amerrrrricaaaa at the End of the Millennnnniuuuumm🎶🎶: My favorite books about life in late 20th century America, with an emphasis on how the conversative turn in American politics affected lives on the margins: Wheel of Fortune, Sally Ride, Heavy metal suicide Foreign debts, homeless vets, AIDS, crack, Bernie Goetz* , etc:

(descriptions under the cut)

Rick Perlstein, Reaganland: America’s Right Turn. This is where you start. And honestly, the Reaganland Quartet, which this is the last volume of, is the Great Epic Fantasy of actual 20th century history.

Sarah Schulman, Let the Record Show: A Political History of ACT-UP New York 1987-1993. This book had a minute and then just faded from public discourse, which makes me so unbelievably sad. I know it’s long, but it’s riveting and energizing. This should be the book that We All Read and everyone peer pressures everyone else to read.

Kathleen Bellew, Bring the War Home: The White Power Movement and Paramilitary America. Another foundational classic about how the post-Vietnam War militarization of the white power movement led to the Oklahoma City bombing. It's also really good context for a lot of the great works that have come out recently about Waco. Also you can read this book instead of swallowing your dignity and giving zoom-masturbator Jeffrey Toobin your money.

Donovan X Ramsey, When Crack Was King: A People’s History of a Misunderstood Era. This could very well be the best book that came out this year, just a beautiful, empathetic, humanist view of the crack epidemic that perfectly balances the broader context with oral history.

Anna Lowensapt Tsing, The Mushroom at the End of the World: This is a weirder choice, but I think it aligns well with alot of the other topics on this list: the consequences of the Vietnam War, the economic collapse in the Pacific Northwest, a new kind of underclass in the global capitalist system...but about mushrooms.

Donna Gaines, Teenage Wasteland: Suburbia’s Dead End Kids. This is a journalistic work written in the 1980s but I think the social panic about (white) teenage suicide, heavy metal, satanism, etc is something that has gotten somewhat forgotten in histories of the 1980s. One thing that feels deeply Of that Time is how the end of the cold war made it harder for working class teenagers to "just" join the military.

Jason LaPerle, American Dream: Three Women, Ten Kids and a Nation’s Drive to End Welfare: Another deeply empathetic portrait of three women in Milwaukee and how the Clinton welfare reforms affected their lives.

Susan Faldo, Backlash. Look, you really do have to read this classic 1980s feminist brick. You do. It's infurirating and important and pretty fun too.

Mike Davis, Ecology of Fear: Los Angeles and the Imagination of Disaster: Mike Davis is the grim, communist Joan Didion; I love him and miss him. Davis also co-wrote a massive history of Los Angeles in the 1960s that I really recommend and an extremely non-massive history of the car bomb that I recommend above all.

234 notes · View notes

whateverisbeautiful · 3 months

Text

♥️ Ranking Richonne

#14: Soon As I Get It, You Will (S6E10)

This moment will always have an extra special place in my heart. 😍 It’s when I so clearly in real-time saw that Rick and Michonne were going to perfectly transition to a romantic couple because they’d been in love a long time. I said TWD's opening minutes really used to bless us with some great Richonne content throughout the series, and this one from 6.10, their classic canon ep, is atop the list. This scene paints a clear picture that Rick and Michonne weren't just about to become a couple at the end of the episode - they were going to embrace that they already were one...

I adore domestic Richonne scenes and in this scene, they were just so comfortable and happy living what felt like such a normal morning in their home with their kids. 🥰 Moments like this are what I most want for Rick and Michonne and their children. It's the good, happy, peaceful life they deserve.

The scene starts with Rick and his belt, which I gotta say always makes me think the writers were going for a bit of an innuendo lol. Then the shot makes it a point to show that Rick has taken his ring off. That’s definitely a big indicator that he’s now in a place to more fully and healthily move into a new chapter (and to signal to Michonne 'I'm ready when you are' perhaps lol).

Rick grabs the watch but leaves the ring, and that is such an intentional shot. It symbolizes that it’s time to move forward, in love especially, and Rick is finally ready in proper ways to do that.

And he knows who he’s meant to move forward with - Cuz then she shows right up to his door looking glowy and gorgeous in a robe. 🤗

I love that Michonne feels comfortable enough to approach his room in her robe and towel and ask if he has any toothpaste left and that Rick cutely teases her about using his toothpaste the last few weeks. They bring out such a playful flirty side of each other, and I love it.

Rick’s smile when he teases her and then Michonne's reaction...😊 I know that house felt like a sauna the last few weeks with all that steamy tension they’ve been trying to keep the lid on.

And I like that whatever happened in the last two weeks broke their ability to downplay their attraction - because the way Rick and Michonne are looking and reacting to each other in this scene...you know I gotta use my favorite word - the attraction is palpable.

I’ll also just always love that even when TF all moved into separate houses, Michonne stayed with her Grimes family. She’s one of them fr.

Michonne sounds like such a mom when she calls for Carl, and Carl sounds like her teenage son when he responds with a low-key attitudinal “What?” This is the first we’re hearing from Carl since getting his eye shot out and it tells you he’s definitely still that same feisty-when-he-wants-to-be kid. 😂

I love the moment when Rick says he can’t hear Carl and has him come on out. And the smile Rick gives Michonne and the way she amusedly looks at him and subtly rolls her eyes when they wait for Carl to come over. 🤭

And then, after Rick smiles at her, he has this extremely telling reaction like he’s trying to play off whatever he’s so clearly feeling about her before Carl comes and catches his whipped self.

But Rick ain’t ever been slick when it comes to how he feels about Michonne, and so even in that little squint that he does, it’s clear this man has caught all the feelings there is to catch lol. This is a man in love, I tell you. And he knows it now. 🤗

I adore their energy here and I repeat this is not how people who are just friends look at each other. This scene is just so fun too cuz there’s no speculation needed by this point - it is factual that Rick and Michonne are both more aware that they are attracted to and in love with this person in front of them. And it’s sweet to see them be all smiley about it in their final pre-canon scene.

Truly, the only thing they were waiting on at this point was knowing for sure the feelings they felt were mutual.

Carl gives another little attitudinal 'what?' to Rick and when Carl repeats what he said about Denise, Rick says it at the same time as him and it’s such a dad moment. Michonne laughs and I’m pretty positive Rick did this specifically knowing it would make her laugh cuz Carl is not that amused by it at all. 😂

Michonne again sounds like such a mom when she tells Carl it’s time to change his bandage and she needs toothpaste. I know Rick and Michonne have to be picking up on how much they so naturally feel like a perfect little four-person family right now. Like they were giving mom and dad and they were giving husband and wife...

And I love that there's always this refreshed good mood when Rick and Michonne get to just live everyday life together with their kids. 🥰

When Carl says he’s also out of toothpaste, Michonne looks over at Rick and shakes her head as they both smile, and you know Rick knew right then and there that he’s gonna find a way to get her that toothpaste today, no matter what.

And then y’all, it’s Michonne’s turn to have an extremely telling reaction because she then quietly watches as Rick picks Judith up. Again, this quiet lingering look was not a platonic look from our girl Michonne. And whatever she was thinking about Rick at this moment...

I was probably thinking it too. 🤭 It’s sweet seeing Michonne just quietly take this moment in, knowing that she loves and respects this man, as a father, as a fighter, and as the love of her life.

It’s also heartwarming hearing Rick be so sweet with Judith and say, "come on, sweetheart." Girl Dad Rick is always great to see for us and Michonne - because Michonne’s smile observing this is just precious. That’s a good man and she knows it. And a hot man and she knows that too. 😊

It's great how Michonne doesn’t just sound like a mom in this scene, she also is such a wife, especially when she tells Rick to "be good out there." And Rick feels like such a husband saying, "yeah we’ll see."

And then you know I gotta take a moment to celebrate my favorite part of this scene - that low-five. 🙌🏽

It's so good, and I credit that low-five as the flashing light that fully let me know these two had a chemistry that was bound to turn romantic. Looking back, it's genuinely crazy it took me until their canon ep to open my eyes and know for certain that what I'd been watching all along between Rick and Michonne was a love story but hey...

And ever since that low five, I have learned from my mistake and fully boarded this ship without ever looking back.

I love that true to their magnetic ways, Rick extends his hand to her, and, y’all, somehow they manage to make a freaking low-five feel romantic and so much more than just casual.

This is how you know your ship is in (no pun intended) capable hands. Because the actors knew that the next time Rick and Michonne see each other in this ep they're going to go all the way, and so this scene in the opening minutes had to really tell you their current headspace and that they were right on the brink of expressing this long-time love more physically. And of course, Andy and Danai were able to communicate that in something as simple as a low-five. Best in the biz, I'm just saying. 👏🏽💯

This touch between them is important too because their previous few and far between touches had always been one touching the other - but in this moment it was both of them engaging, hinting how they’re both finally ready to express their love a different way.

And I love that as Rick so often does he accompanies the low-five with a thank you. Always so grateful for her. 😊 He can go out on these runs and trust that his kids are okay because they’re with their mom.

It just felt like such a married sendoff as he thanks her before going out for the day and she casually lets him know her favorite type of toothpaste. I love the way she tells him which toothpaste she likes best and that they're able to live a stable enough life for them to even have preferences now.

Rick says, "soon as I get it, you will" and, chile, he means that. 😋 I love that quick line and that he says this sounding like a husband yet again. He knows it’ll be a priority to get this toothpaste not just for the community but for her specifically because what Michonne wants, whether big or small, always matters to him.

And the line also just feels like a fitting sentiment to their relationship. As soon as he gets that this romance can be acted on, she will. So it’s a great line to land on in their final pre-canon moment together.

(and y'all can we just take a moment to observe the way they are looking at each other during this low-five...like the heat coming off of them is really something. it makes sense later that night would finally be 'the night' because i don't think they could resist for one more day lol ❤️‍🔥)

I also never noticed that the scene ends with Rick playfully tossing the ball at her. Can they get any cuter? 😭 What Rick and Michonne bring out of each other is just the best and I adore this bright and happy scene for showing this great and lived-in layer to them and their relationship.

Whether you’d been anticipating Richonne for seasons or were new to the ship, this scene made sure there was no denying that Rick and Michonne are family and not just as parents but truly as gorgeous and natural spouses. Married before they knew they were married, y’all, and this moment made it clear.

So I really appreciate this morning scene for showing that Rick and Michonne have built a life together not just as 'team family,' not just as co-leaders, but as a mom and dad and very very soon as an officially consummated husband and wife. And y'all...

We'll get there. 😉 But for now, staying focused on this absolutely delightful 14th moment on my list - I think about how Rick and Michonne always got to see the more normal and human side of each other ever since season 3. And in this 6.10 scene, you see them both not only witness that everyday side but really be attracted to that side too, in a way they can no longer hide.

So yeah, toothpaste and toothbrushes stayed giving us some great Richonne content. This 6.10 opener showed that the Richonne ship had been set sail - now it was just time to release the 'canon.' 🤗🪥

#richonne #top 30 #number 14 #rick x michonne #reveling in richonne #twd 6.10 #twd towl #the ones who live

89 notes · View notes

ghostlychief · 1 year

Note

Hi, your articles about Simon ghost are interesting. Can I also make a request, please? How does he react to a reader with a big dog? The dog is very protective and affectionate towards the reader. and the dog's eyes are different colors. I will send you a photo of the dog.

HELLO!! First of all, thank you for reading my Ghost fics, that means so much <3 Secondly, i love this request because one, i love dogs, and TWOOO i love big big dogs. I hope you enjoy what i threw together, and take care <3

That Makes Two of Us

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x reader (can read as fem, gn, or male really)

wc: 900+

warnings: none

A/N: I apologize for any grammar/spelling mistakes lol pls forgive me

You can’t remember a time when you didn’t have a dog. Growing up, you were always surrounded by dogs, and had one by the time you were age five. Later, in your early teenage years, your family got another one. Needless to say, it wasn’t a surprise when you bought a dog of your own, after you graduated and got a full-time job.

When you saw your new puppy for the first time, she was already perfect in your eyes. She had mismatched eyes- one blue and one brown. Her fur was as dark as a raven’s feather, and shiny too. You decided to name her Daphne, after a character from one of your favorite TV shows.

You could already tell she was going to be a big dog, just by the size of her paws when she was a puppy. And your assumption was right, because she turned out to be about 65 pounds, paws almost as big as your palm.

You guys became two peas in a pod, and you trained her well. She was smart, loyal and very affectionate with you. It’s all you ever could have wanted in a dog, a companion.

While Daphne was lovey and affectionate towards you, her loyalty showed when she met strangers. She was mostly weary with men she didn’t know. Sure, your dad and close guy friends were no issue for her, she trusted them and therefore she trusted them around you.

However, newer men she didn’t recognize the scent of, or strangers on the sidewalk (strange men), she immediately became alert, ready to do anything for you, anything to protect you. This personality trait of hers was always difficult when in came to dating. Because more often than not, your fling with a guy didn’t last long. It was a cycle of introducing Daphne to a new man, which took her some time to getting used to, to that man completely disappearing from your life, all for it to start again.

It wasn’t until you met Simon aka “Ghost” for things to level out, be “steady” so to say. You and Simon have been dating for about three and a half months at this point. You both went on countless dinner dates, occasionally got drinks, and enjoyed the city where you both lived. All which required him not to see Daphne, or meet her, nonetheless. Sure, you showed him pictures of your baby, and babbled on about her when you guys hung out, but he hasn’t had the pleasure of meeting her.

You decided that after the fourth failed fling/thing with a guy, you would wait until you were seeing a guy for about 4-5 months until you introduced them to your dog. Not wanting to continue to confuse her, by having her meet strangers, and people that wouldn’t be in your life for a long time.

With Simon though, you guys instantly hit it off. He was a little bit quirky, with a dry sense of humor that matched your sarcasm. He was fun to be around and brought out a side of you, you haven’t seen in quite a long time. You were happy, and you trusted him. You only wished that Daphne would trust him as much, because deep-deep down in the pits of your heart, you were starting to fall in love with Simon.

It was after you guys went to dinner one night, that you brought Simon over to your place for the first time. You were a little bit nervous. One, because you were bringing home a devastatingly handsome and tall man, and two, because you weren’t sure how Daphne would react.

You quietly unlocked your door and ushered Simon inside. After you turned on the lights, you could hear Daphne’s paws patter on your floor, signaling to you that she woke up, and was coming to greet you. Though, when she saw Simon standing next to you, she instantly stopped in her tracks, and quirked her head to the side, her ears perked. Not expecting a guest to be with you.

She immediately started barking, her low, powerful bark resonating off the walls of your home.

“I take it she doesn’t like strangers?” Simon remains next to you, but doesn’t show any signs that he’s afraid of your giant black dog barking four feet away from him.

“Well…she’s a little protective of me.” You turn to look at Simon, with a sheepish smile on your pretty face.

“That makes two of us, then.” You try not to let Simon’s deep voice and confession get to you too much, but it’s hard and you find your cheeks warming.

You just laugh at his statement, and make your ways towards Daphne, to try and console her. Once you’ve got her calmed down, you usher Simon over.

“Ok, just approach her on the side, but don’t turn towards her, keep your body perpendicular to hers. And stick your hand out for her to sniff. This will let her know that you’re no threat.”

He does just that, and effortlessly, which you’re not surprised about. You’re certain he’s often around military trained dogs due to his job.

Daphne reluctantly sniffs Simon’s hand, but you can tell he won her over because she starts to lick him, and then lets him pet her on the head. Her tail starts to wag vigorously, and now her barks are lighter, more playful as she greets your new friend.

With a smirk coating his lips, Simon asks her, “See, I’m not too bad, am I?”

Hope you enjoyed!

masterlist

898 notes · View notes

the-cat-and-the-birdie · 8 months

Text

Small fun fact about me:

My mom is neurodivergent too! And not only that, but

Me and my mom share a special interest.

[A short post about me, my mom, hyperfixations, and how acceptance can help you grow]

For the last ten years, both me and my mother have had a hyperfixation on Marvel movies and Superhero movies in general.

And if anything, she's more fixated than I am.

This started at the same time, despite my mother never picking up a comic in her life. It happened when we first saw the Avengers in theatres in 2012.

Since then me and my mother have seen every Marvel movie on the day of release, or even a day before release.

When I was in high school, I remember her specifically pulling me out of school early to take me to the marathon premiere of Thor 2 and The Winter Soldier.

She's seen every Marvel media to date outside of the Netflix series. She's already finished Secret Invasion.

In recent years, we've gotten Unlimited movie memberships, and because we live in NY we can often see movies the Thursday before the Friday release, so we go to the movies almost twice a month, and we see movies repeatedly.

I saw ATSV three times in theatres while she saw it twice, and saw GOTG a second or third time. We recently saw Blue Beetle the day or two after release. She keeps me CONSISTENT.

The reason why I theorize about Marvel media and Spider-man media is largely because of her.

For years she was the one I theorized with. I've spoken to her about whether or not Peter set Miles up (she isn't convinced), or argue with her about whether or not Khonsu from Moon Knight is cool (he is).

She watches more Marvel fan content than me and inhales all the essays, reacts, and Easter egg videos on YouTube.

She's the same with recent Star Wars, she's seen Andor and Boba Fett and the Mandalorian, and currently working her way through Asoka.

And she knew about my past fixation on Loki in specific. She even knows about Hobie and Diane.

I told her I want to go to NY ComicCon as my spidersona and she was like "... You'd have to work on your roller skating" and I was SHOOK she remembered that about Diane because she's right.

But yeah, we've always been REALLY REALLY close over marvel stuff, and it's amazing having a parent who has the same fixation as you. It's like a natural thing, and I can speak openly about my theories or interests and she'll be like 'Oh yeah I noticed that incredibly niche moment where Hobie did that one specific thing, what of it'

I'm never treated weird for my fixation. Cause hers is stronger. I told her I didn't want to see GOTG again and she was like HUH and I was so heartbroken that I went and saw it anyway 😭😭

Some of my favorite moments with my mom are in movies theatres. And because we share this niche interest and neurodivergency, we're able to have these in-depth conversations about these characters we've formed bonds to together.

When Loki the show came out we'd been waiting literal years for it - like literally since 2013 talking about it. And I had a lot of mixed feelings about it.

But I could talk about those feelings and thoughts and characterizations with someone I know wouldn't ostracize me, knows the material as well as I do - if not more, and cares about these characters.

Because of that, my theorizing skills were able to grow all throughout my teenage years.

Because my hyperfixation was nurtured instead of demonized.

And I just think that's SO COOL.

Just wanted to share. Here's a photo of Miguel because I hate consistency [this is a hobie household]

Bye.

#neurodivergent #neurodivergency #neurodiversity #adhd #autism #actuallyautistic #actuallyadhd #hyperfixations #special interests #autistic experiences #spiderman #marvel #atsv #across the spiderverse

128 notes · View notes

maleyanderecafe · 1 month

Note

Eyooo! Long time no ask ( `~`) been extremely busy these months, sooo any recommendations on blogs that write yandere content? Like with no especific character, just a yandere x reader? Also dunno if he's a yandere or not but Dys from I was a teenager exocolonist [spoiler]

is obsessive towards the mc on the ending where they are together, but what I don't like so much about him is that he's obsessed with the planet too lmao, dunno if there's an ending where he stays with the mc all his life

Sorry for like.. the extremely long time it took to answer this one. I think since I first saw this ask, a bunch of things regarding yandere x reader has changed, but I will try to give some recommendations.

@heartfullofleeches usually has very interesting and unorthodox yanderes and darlings, some of which are ocs and some are not

@sublimetragedychopshop doesn't have yandere x reader per say but does have some fun yandere concepts.

@godnectar has some good yandere x reader concepts of various types like vampires, jocks and twins

@mysticmellowlove has some ideas that I really like, most of them being sub yanderes, my favorite

@hana-no-seiiki - has a mix of fanon and oc style yanderes. They also have pretty good art from what I remember.

@suiana - has tons and I mean tons of yandere reader style concepts. I think out of all of these this is probably the one closest to what you're asking about.

@running-with-kn1ves sometimes has some yandere x reader ones that are not from fandoms, but you'll have to dig through and see.

@goldienectar - also has some good ones.

The unfortunate thing about yandere writers is that a lot of them end up coming and going over the years. You can also look through my #yandere ideas tag for something similar.

Moving onto the next part... this is gonna be kind of long.

I was a Teenage Exocolonist is really fun, and it's a really well crafted game. I played it a lot, but ultimately while I was upgrading my computer I lost my saves for it, so I didn't want to redo everything, so I just left it alone for a while. Still, I think while Dys has traits of a yandere in certain endings, he ultimately is not as a whole. I would say maybe one or two of the endings make him a yandere and one of them is very, very iffy. I will admit though, I didn't get to finish everything about his route (or the others), so I might have some of this information incorrect.

To summarize what I was a Teenage Exocolonist is about, as the name suggests, it's about the life of Sol as a exocolonist. The game play is very much a card style game where you manage a deck based off of the skills and memory/events that Sol has throughout their life. It's very sim like so you can romance most of the characters your age, starting from when you're around 5 years old to around 18 years old. You gain skills depending on tasks that you do, buy items, gain relationships with other characters, etc.

The general story is that Sol is brought to a new planet along with a bunch of other families to build a life there. As the story goes on, they learn about what they have to do to learn about the planet, from science to nurturing, to learning about the wildlife there to adventuring. However, after a while, it becomes very clear that there is something else on the planet, something that doesn't want them there. They have to defend against aliens, a lot of which often costs some character's lives, along with various diseases and famine can cause many characters, including Sol's parents, to perish if you don't have the right stats. At some point, there is a raid that is so devastating that it ends up destroying most of the colony. From then on, there is a new group of people in power, along with various other characters that you can interact with and date. Depending on the route you go, you might end up meeting a being named Sym, one of the aliens on the planet. He seems to be incredibly interested in the humans here and is in contact with the species that seems to be attacking the colony. Depending on your choices, you can end up befriending him and saving the colony, or even end up becoming the planet yourself. It seems that Sol is kind of in a time loop, always going back to the beginning and remembering things from previous playthroughs, making certain events easier or otherwise bypassing them entirely.

Dys himself is pretty interesting. He has a rather sad childhood, with his mother committing suicide at a young age, causing him and his twin sister Tangent to becoming distant from each other. As a kid, he is very morose and doesn't really fit in with the other kids, even getting bullied a lot by them. He knows he doesn't belong to the colony and constantly strives to learn more about the planet, sneaking out with him to explore. It's no surprise that as he grows up, he distances himself from most of the other colony members and prefers going out and exploring, learning about the planet and feeling alive when he does. He can have a very cute relationship with Sol, with him believing that they are the only one who he feels truly understands him. Dys eventually does meet Sym, growing a great fascination and attraction to him and if the two of you are not in a relationship (or have otherwise broken up) he will end up with Sym most of the time. Sol, Dys and Sym can also have a polyamorous relationship with each other.

For Dys, there is always an scene where he attempts to bomb part of the colony. Tired of them being there, believing that they are causing a lot of problem for the planet, he tries to destroy it. Sol can agree to this and the two of them can end up destroying the colony and running away together. He becomes rather clingy as a result. I think in other endings he is generally a bit clingy considering that he doesn't really have anyone else to talk to.

The other ending is if Sol decides to become part of the planet. Dys will also do so the same, and when the two are sort of merged, they have a wonderful time together being one with everything. The game describes Dys and Sol in this form as "being an extension of each other" as they can be anything they wish on the planet, and are sort of, in a way, each other.

Dys in himself isn't really much of a yandere, even when you do romance him. While it is true, that he does exhibit yandere traits (being clingy, for instance), it's more because of the fact that he is pretty isolated from the other characters in the game, wanting to explore rather than be with anyone in the colony. I think the closest to yandere is when the two of you agree to bomb the colony and run away together. The planet ending with Sym is kind of strange, since it does have the traits of being together forever, but it is more of the idea of being one with everything, rather with just the two of them forever.

Still despite that, I really do like all of the characters in this game. It is genuinely so interesting seeing how they develop in the game and how you interact with them, going into some pretty deep and dark topics as well, along with some more fun memories. I think my favorite characters besides Dys are Cal and Nomi-Nomi and I kind of wish I had done a route with Nomi-Nomi because I love them so much. Maybe in a future run. It really is a beautiful game.

#yandere #male yandere #yandere boy #recommendations #asks #i was a teenage exocolonist

52 notes · View notes

bloodiegawz · 16 days

Text

ROUND TWO BABY GIVE IT UP FOR ROUND TWO !!

Keyper will once again be participating in the Kirby OC Tournament! ( @kirbyoctournament ) Much to his dismay... pray for his antisocial soul. As such, he will also be open for asks and interactions!

Submission and character information below the cut- it's a bit of a copy/paste from his last one but there have been edits :3

Keyper (17, he/him)

Reference Images:

(The other OC in these drawings is Rhodo! She will not be included in my submission but is Keyper's only friend, so she's often seen with him. They live together in Raisin Ruins.)

Notes on Personality:

Although not shy, Keyper is very antisocial, if only for the fact that he doesn't know how to interact with others and is accustomed to being alone. His reclusive nature is more of a habit than a choice, though he'd like to (and does) say otherwise. He puts his needs first always, concerned with his own well-being as a means of survival.

He doesn't like to talk about himself, but he has a bit of an ego and will brag about his own abilities over others- usually right before overestimating himself and absolutely eating dirt at whatever he was doing. If someone is having trouble with something, he will likely tease or taunt them and not help. On the flipside, he's easily upset when things don't go his way- much like his grouchy demeanor would suggest. Generally, Keyper comes off as a snarky, moody teenager, motivated by little other than anything with immediate utility.

Despite himself, he tends to gravitate towards those like him- whether they be lonely or simply surviving but especially if they are struggling in their problems. He feels a need to get these people on their feet if nothing else, knowing the hardships of being stressed and underprepared.

In rare cases, when confronted with something unexpected (be it anywhere from getting lost in a new place to emotional vulnerability), Keyper's immediate response is fear and anxiety. He doesn't like unfamiliar situations and will try to get out of them as soon as possible, or otherwise shuts down.

Backstory and Lore:

Keyper is a hybrid Key Dee/Hunter Scarfy. An odd combination for sure, and even stranger is his role in this dynamic: he watches over a key that seemingly has no door. Though he doesn't know what it does, he has an attachment to it and values it even more than himself. He has no home and by now no parents, living in the sands of Raisin Ruins for all of his life. He took up bounty hunting as a way to live, moving from town to town to take on whatever jobs he can get his claws on. Many people reject his offers to work because he's so young, though...

Other fun facts:

His favorite foods are bread, apples, and honey. On the contrary he despises most sugary desserts like ice cream or cakes.

Uncomfortable in super crowded areas and prefers to be with just a few people if being alone is not an option, a role that is nowadays taken by Rhodo.

Has not had a proper bath in one million years (maybe like one or two months).

Prides himself on his claws and will do anything to keep them clean and sharp, even if the rest of his hygiene isn't maintained so carefully. Because of this, he'll opt for using a knife rather than his claws for fighting.

He is easily distracted by shiny objects. Please do not take advantage of this fact, he will be very upset.

His bag contains multitudes, a possibly comedic amount of things to carry everywhere on a regular basis, but incredibly useful. Many people suspect there's some kind of enchantment on it, but when asked, he shrugs and says he "just found it".

Despite having floating paws, he prefers to keep them close and won't reach out very far with them.

His eyesight is much worse with his single eye rather than the false ones, which is something he's self-conscious about.

Is colorblind (deuteranopia).

#gawzdrawz #kirby series #kirby oc tournament #kirby: keyper #kirby: rhodo #kirby oc #uhhh i think thats all my tags #anyway yea :) hes back #sorry i dont have time to do more for this post !!!!#i have... so many things to do.... haah

41 notes · View notes

rorimoon9597 · 6 months

Text

!Spoilers for Chalice of the Gods!

I read Chalice of the Gods and I gotta say, I loved it so much. There's just so much I want to talk about, so spoilers for those who haven't read it yet, bc I'm about to geek out over how the characters are portrayed.

Firstly, Percy. He's a veteran from TWO different wars, and the only reason why he wants to go to New Rome is because he knows that he'll be safe there, and that he can have a family with Annabeth if they live there. That's all he wants. To be safe with those that he loves, and to live his life to the fullest. New Rome is the best place for that.

He actively says that it's a nice chance of pace when he can just sleep in his room, not having to worry about his mother getting hurt by an asshole in the middle of the night. He likes being able to spend time with his family, to not have to worry about survival. He likes to feel safe.

Which is why I love how he's shown to be so tired of running around, out on quests for the gods. It's only natural for someone to want to get away from something that's the basis of their trauma, but Percy can't get away from it. He knows that.

He's also very disgusted about how Ganymede is treated, that much is clear. He decides, from looking at how Ganymede is treated by the other gods, that he made the right choice in turning down immortality. At the time, it was for a girl who he wasn't even dating yet. In COTG, he sticks to that because he does not want to leave that same girl, but also because he doesn't see immortality as a gift, but rather a curse. He's seen how it affects the gods, who think that they are all so high and mighty. There are exceptions, sure, but you gotta admit that most of the gods are narcissists.

Zeus is the largest narcissist in the entire book. He's the reason why Ganymede is scared of eagles, which are his sacred animal. He doesn't care for how Ganymede feels. He just cares about having eye candy to oogle whenever the fuck he feels like it. I think that the brunch scene, where Percy's hiding on a pastry cart and is subjected to Zeus' story of when he was younger and all alone when his siblings were stuck inside of Kronos' stomach is a very clear sign of that. He's playing it up, trying to get pity points or something, but all he's doing is annoying everyone else.

To be honest, I love how Rick showed the Big Three. We have Zeus, an obvious airhead who is narcissistic, which fits with his whole thing of being the sky god. Poseidon is much calmer than Zeus, not narcissistic like his younger brother. He reflects the nature of the sea - often unpredictable, going from gentle waves that are perfect to swim in to towering waves meant to kill. Poseidon is more fun, more caring, yet still easily angered (I think that the main reason why he was saved from being killed in one of the books is because Poseidon clearly cares about his child, and will go bat-shit crazy if he was murdered). He cares about Percy, even if he can't show it. He always watched over his son, and will continue to do so as Percy breathes.

Hades is probably one of my favorite gods out of the Big Three (I only really hate Zeus though, so that probably explains it) because, like his brothers, he reflects his domain. Sure, he's dark and gloomy, but he's more grounded than his brothers are. He doesn't kidnap pretty mortals like Zeus and he's definitely that guy who gets consent before sleeping with someone (his relationship with Nico and Bianca's mother is too strong to be something born from anything but consent, because she is shown to actually love Hades to some degree. He's not someone who does things like have children with mortal women without their permission.)

Some people say that the book is cringey, that it's not as good as Rick's other books. Those other books are about a kid thrust into war too young, his childhood ripped away from him the moment he's born. This one is about a teenager who is dealing with the after-effects of that, trying to navigate life as normally as possible when it's insanely impossible when he's a demigod. All Percy wants is peace, to live with Annabeth and grow old with her and Grover. That's why Rick wrote it. As an aspiring author myself, I can appreciate the beauty of a story where all the main character wants is to rest from a traumatic life.

Remember that this is my opinion, and that you're all free to have your own. I'd actually love to hear what you guys think of it.

#I really do like the book #it's a masterpiece in its own right #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #the chalice of the gods #chalice of the gods #annabeth chase #nico di angelo #grover underwood #pjo

123 notes · View notes

peach-and-bugs · 1 year

Note

Hi, I hope you are well, I fell in love with Nat's one-shot, so I was encouraged to ask for a request, well there are two that come to my head with different characters.

"Wow, you really never got out of your angsty teenage stage, did you?" with Teen Shauna (sorry it's just that you see those eyes and they bring back a lot of melancholy).

"Please tell me you didn't hold on to that all these years" with Lottie (1996) and Lottie (2021). I think with this one you can play with flashbacks of seeing what happened in the desert and their relationship in that timeline in 1996 as a reunion in 2021 somewhat angsty.

Sorry the request is so long, although I would like to add that I can imagine both requests with f reader, anyway thank you very much for everything, take your time and take care of yourself. ❤️

💚Flower stems for heartstrings - Lottie Matthews (1996 & 2021) x fem!Reader💚

Fanfiction master list

disclaimer: don't repost my work. I only post on Tumblr and on Ao3. anything else is stolen and should be removed immediately

Summary: y/n finds evidence of her teenage best friend (and secret crush) being alive after all, and a possible way of finding her thanks to modern internet and goes on a personal quest to find her and the truth, all while reminiscing about their teen years...

Warnings: Internalized homophobia, fem reader that dresses both "masc" and "fem", underage drinking and smoking weed, extremely angst but with a good ending

Word Count: 8,758

A/N: woohoo! We've surpassed word count on my longest oneshot with this fic, the record previously being 6,990. And ngl, this might be one of my favorites to date! Lottie is an extra special gal who deserves an extra long one-shot, so of course I'm going to give her extra attention. What can I say, I'm not immune to favoritism. This one was actually so fun! I loved getting to write about excited, young (and medicated, let's be fr) Lottie bc I think we forget just how much the wilderness took a toll on her. She was so lively before, it makes me so sad. But, I hope I was able to give her a little bit of that liveliness back in this fic! I think in the request "desert" was supposed to be wilderness, but I wanted to have the reader be left behind, which adds a whole different kind of angst to the situation. As always, feel free to leave questions or comments in my comments or ask box, and happy reading!💚

Lottie Matthews Tag List:

General Tag List: @summergeezburr

-💚-

You’d only ever felt the way you did now only twice before in your life. Once when word got around that flight 2525 had mysteriously gone down in flames with no trace, and once again when you learned she’s been shipped off to god knows where for some kind of treatment. You hadn’t even gotten to say goodbye to her then and she was gone.

It was a sickly green feeling that had you kneeling over with weak knees and a stone throat. Lottie Matthews, the girl you’d had your heart set on for all of these years, wasn’t gone. She wasn’t locked away or dead like gossip has always said. She was alive and well and looked like she was thriving. And how did you find this out? Through Instagram, of course. That might have been the worst part of all of this.

One minute you’re mindlessly scrolling through your feed when an ad for a farmers market in some part of upstate New York, rather than New Jersey where you resided. But the ad featured a booth selling honey, and low and behold, there she was. Well, the photo didn’t give a clear picture of her face, but you refused to deny that it was her, despite how it made you sick. How could you forget that smile of hers after all?

You had to put your phone away after that, but it didn’t help you sleep. A few hours into staring up at the ceiling, restless with gnawing curiosity, you decided sleep wouldn’t come till you found an answer. Rather spontaneously you packed a bag and got into your car. Was this the smartest thing to do? Hell no, but you had the weekend off for work anyways, and nothing stopped you from going, so you drove through the nightstand into the morning and drove by coffee, a podcast, and the straining urge that you needed to know what was going on.

-💚-

At some point in the night, you found your mind wandering as your eyes trained on the empty highway before you, highlighted by your headlights. You reminisce a time long before, even more than 25 years ago. Back when you had been a freshman in high school during your lunch period. You moved to Wiskayok, New Jersey late in the year, giving you an even later start to your first year of high school. You’d relatively been left alone and had decided you'd be alright with that. Not everyone can have friends right? So, alone you sat outside on the school's field, picking at the grass underfoot having already finished your lunch.

Some students around you sat on the track or the stadium's bleachers with their friends, enjoying company and comradery or whatever and you didn’t like to admit how it made you jealous. But what was there for you to do to change it? You refused to look desperate and walk up to random groups of people who would probably talk about how lame you are behind your back-

“Hey, you alright?” the sudden voice in your direction yanked you out of your self-deprecating thoughts. Looking up you had to squint your eyes to try and make out who was talking to you as the sun shone in your eyes till they tilted their head, blocking it. After some adjustment from the sunspots in your eyes, you were greeted with a shy yet warm smile.

“Um, yeah, I’m fine,” you uttered awkwardly, swallowing the frog in your throat that had your voice croaking. The girl chuckled and tottered down to the ground to sit beside you in the grass. She dressed well, was one of the first things you noticed. Her pink skirt and tall white socks were very countering to your grass-stained jeans, scuffed hightops, and t-shirt.

“You sure, because you’re all by yourself,” she said rather matter of factly.

“Well, maybe I like being alone. Think of that,” she arched her brow curiously. “And as far as I know you’re alone too,” she chuckled again with a little huff.

“Tuche,” was all she replied, but she had a stupidly shiny grin on her face. Next, she reached out her hand to shake. “I’m Charlotte, by the way. But most people call me Lottie,” you hesitated for a standing moment, only staring at her hand as you kept yours loosely wrapped around your knees till you gave in, shaking her hand in greeting.

“I’m y/n,”

“Well y/n, tell me about yourself,” she spent the rest of that lunch period at your side, asking questions about you in exchange for the little tidbits you were willing to give her. It was so strange, looking back now, how a because girl decided you looked lonely you'd be driving to upstate New York on a random Thursday night due to your desperation to find her again.

Lottie had always been charismatic. She liked people. She looked at them like puzzles made special for her to figure out. Maybe that was her way of avoiding herself, or maybe she just had a natural curiosity for those she didn’t understand. But from that day on, she hadn’t left you alone. She’d excitedly greet you in the halls, and invite you out with her friends and to late-night parties. She was the one who integrated you into the community and helped you find a place.

But she also became your best friend. However, you struggled to feel like you were hers sometimes. She was so bright and colorful, full of life and boy was she popular. She always had someone with her, unless she found the time for you exclusively, which dwindled more and more as high school progressed. Of course, this is a concern you could talk to her about but you didn’t want to bother. In truth, you feared your feelings were driven by selfishness. You thought you'd never voice it, but oh, how you undoubtedly adored Lottie Matthews.

You felt her encase you when she was close and her laugh was enough to have you swooning. You thrived in her presence and basked in the littlest bit of attention she may offer you. Her touch was electrifying and when she grabbed your hand when she greeted you you felt what had to be magic. But of course, you could never tell. Sure, you knew you were gay and you were so fortunate that you’re mother said it was ok, but you’d never tell, ever. Even if the ache felt like it was squeezing you, you couldn’t lose Lottie. You didn’t want to scare her away and be a freak.

Part of you wonders if that’s why you'd lost Lottie after all. You hadn’t been honest with her. No, that wasn’t rational. A secret didn’t take down an airplane.

-💚-

You didn’t arrive till mid-afternoon, late morning, the sun high above as you made your way towards this market. They had their location posted online, so with a quick search and an input to your mapping app you were all set to go. Moments like that reminded you of how on your road trips with your mother growing up she'd have you read the map in the passenger's seat beside her, your finger tailing over the highways towards the little star sticker added on to be your final destination. Strange how so little time felt like it had passed since then yet a whole life as well.

Venders had been set up for some time now and enjoying the comfortable air as they mingled and shopped. You hooked a tote bag over your shoulder to look less conspicuous (although there inherently isn’t anything conspicuous about a middle-aged queer woman at a farmers market, still. You felt a need to keep a low profile). You wandered for some time, looking for a stall that said something like sunset honey, or maybe it was sunnyside. Something involving both the sun and honey, and it looked like the people working wore a lot of purples.

Honestly, it was a very nice market in itself. Had you had ulterior motives for attending you would have quite enjoyed it. That is still you grew distracted by a florist’s stand. The owner had lovely premade bouquets that ranged in a variety of colors and sizes, but what caught your eye where the assortment of white and pastel metal buckets housing small assortments of different flowers, meant to be starters for gardening. In particular stood out the small purple flowers known for growing naturally back home, in Wiskayok. You tentatively reached out to stroke the petals.

You hadn’t formally been invited to the party, but it was one of those words get around kind of things, she no one was actually invited, right? At least, that's what you'd told yourself as you got ready in your room, obsessively messing with your hair in the mirror. It was one of those beer-guzzling bonfire things that the seniors hosted on the outskirts of the woods now and then. This time, however, the justification was the girl's soccer team going to nationals, and after the whole pep rally earlier in the day, it did sound justified.

You pulled back from the mirror to look back down at your clothes. You'd layered a black plaid dress with thin straps over a white sweater that’s sleeves cut off just below your elbow with tights and docs. You tugged at your coller, attempting not to grimace. Sure, you liked dressing feminine now and then, but when it came to events like this you couldn’t help the anxiety, especially with drunk boys. But still, you wanted to look nice, even if the drinks being served were from a beer keg. It just felt like one of those nights, you figured. You sighed and forced yourself to leave as there was a car horn honking outside, grabbing your backpack along the way as you went. It’d be good to have a quick getaway available to you if need be.

“Have fun, hun! Make good choices for me, ok?” your mom called to you from the couch, watching one of her late-night shows while sipping tea and crocheting something as you went downstairs. You smiled, walked up beside her at the end of the couch, and kissed her forehead.

“I will, mama, I promise,” you forced a tiny smile. She hummed her thanks and smiled, opening her eyes to take a look at you.

“Show me this little number you assembled for me,” she said, taking off her eyeglasses and gesturing up and down with her crochet hook as she readjusted in her seat to get a better view. You stretched out an arm, the other firmly holding your backpack to your shoulder, and did a turn around for her. She smiled wide and gave you playful applause.

“Cute! And do you like it? Everything fits well?”

“Yes, Mom, I promise,” you sighed, trying to refrain from rolling your eyes. It was a new dress you hadn’t worn yet and you knew she was only doing the classic mom routine but you had to go!

“Alright, you go have fun. And tell your friend Charlotte good luck at nationals!” she called after you as you shut the door front door and locked it. You turned, illuminated by your porchlight, and waved to your ride. Van had the passenger window of Taisa’s car down and she waved back with a confident grin on her face. You could hear Depeche Mode playing on the radio as you approached the car. You opened the door and slid inside with a quick smile.

“Thanks for the ride, Taissa,” you said, trying not to sound as shy as you felt. She smiled in the rearview mirror, checking her surroundings as she turned down the radio.

“Yeah, no problem girl,” she said with effortless confidence. You didn’t know Taissa or Van, or much of the school's soccer team all that well, but in your mutual connection to Lottie over the past four years you’d tagged along with them quite often and they’d always been nice to you.

“We couldn’t say no after Lottie was so adamant we were nice,” Van joked quite loudly to Taissa, giving you an up and down with that grin again. You stared for a second, unsure of what she was trying to imply till Taissa smacked the goalie in the arm with the back of her hand, hissing her name to make her shut up as she started driving. The redhead let out an undignified yelp.

“She’s being an asshole. And confusing. Lottie wanted you to come and she knew we’d be the best people to pick you up is all,” you still had a confused look on your face, your shoulders hunched inward.

“Um ok, thanks?” you said it more like a question.

“What she means, is that we like you. And we’ll tell you we like you,” Van chimed in again. She wasn’t as helpful to you as she thought she was.

“Right, ok. Is there something else going on that I’m not cluing in on?” Tai and Van shared a knowing look.

“Ok, so the other day Lot kept going on about how she worries that you don’t feel like we’re all friends, and doesn’t want you to feel like you’re just her other friend that tags along, ya know? So we figured we pick you up and tell you that, because some of the other girls on the team aren't the best at communicating, ya know?”

“Oh. So we're friends?” you sounded far more surprised and eager than you would have wanted to. “And Lottie told you all that? About me, I mean?” Van grinned once more, fully turning around in her seat.

“Yeah, dude! I think you’re really cool actually!” you began to smile more than before and leaned back, straightening up your posture.

“And, yes, Lot had all that to say and more,” Tai added on. You were thankful for the dark car hiding any color that might have rushed to your face.

“She talks about you all the time,” Van blabbed on. Tai gave her a look that told the goalie to keep quiet now. Just as she did you pulled up to another house in the neighborhood that has Lottie sitting on the front porch. She shot up when she saw the car but took a last-minute look at the front door like she was waiting for something. Van maneuvered in her seat to hang out the window. “Hurry up slowpoke or we’ll be late to our party,” Lottie all but yelped and ran to the car after that, toward your side of the car.

You didn’t have enough time to move out of the way and before you knew it Lottie had flung the door open with an exhilarated grin, laughing as she climbed in over your lap to collapse in the seat beside you in the back. She’d picked to wear all pink, which was just so fitting for her. You noticed in particular that she was wearing one of her shorter skirts that she giggled to you about hiding from her mother.

“Shut the door and go!” she said through giggles, and once you had the time to process what was happening you did just that, closing the now-opened door to your right, and Taissa was off. Lottie lunged forward in her seat and punched Van in the shoulder, laughing all the while. “God, fuck you! I could have been caught because of that,” she griped as Van dramatically clutched her arm.

“Ugh, what’s with beating on the goalie tonight? I gotta stay fit for nationals and I’ll be covered in bruises at this rate,”

“Whatever. You’re always covered in bruises, and not all of them are from soccer,” Lottie implied, her hands gripping Taissa’s headrest in front of her so she could lean forward and talk to the two girls up front. That is till she scooted back to give you her full attention.

“Well, you’re liking fine as hell tonight hot stuff! Have you been hiding this little number?” Lottie asked, reaching out to touch the material of the dress you were wearing along your leg. You managed to force a laugh and playfully swatter her hand away with shifty eye contact.

“It’s new. My mom got it for me during our last mall trip. She wanted me to expand my wardrobe or whatever,” you played off causally. Lottie gave you a knowing smile and sighed as she turned to look out the window.

“I think it looks great, just like you always do,” she murmured rather quietly. You weren't even sure you were supposed to hear her. Not long after Tai parked and you all got out of the car. Van yelled something at the crowd that had already gotten things started and there was a low collection of howling and yelling in response to her. Lottie got out of the car before you but stopped and waited by your door for you to get out with her. She said nothing but had that perky smile on the whole time as she watched you expectantly.

“So, whatcha wanna do?” you asked. She shrugged.

“I dunno. Maybe get reeeeeally drunk,” she toyed, reaching out to take your hand like it had become second nature. Tai walked up to the two of you from the driver seat of the car, double-checking as she locked it shut and shoved her keys in her jacket pocket. She made a purposefully obvious glance down at your entwined fingers then back up to Lottie.

“Careful Lot, people might talk,” she said with what Lottie took as a comfortable coolness but it sent a shiver down your back that caused you to think about pulling away.

“Pfft! I don't give a flying fuck! Let them talk!” she announced quite loudly, leaning forward with her free hand on her hip. She turned her gaze back to you and wiggled her brows as she grinned. “Come on. Get a drink with me,” she urged, tugging you away from Taissa.

“Don’t listen to her. No one is looking, and if they are they don’t care. What’s wrong with holding hands anyway?” Lottie babbled on as she pulled you in line for a beer with her. She was still holding onto your hand quite tight as she jumped into rambling about something related to her French class. Maybe a recent test? You weren't exactly sure. Despite everything she’d said before, it felt like everyone was looking, but not because of you. Because of Lottie. She was the pretty, popular girl while you were just the weirdo she hung around. With that idea in your head, it was pretty hard to not be self-continuous. You were so in your head that you didn’t notice her shoving a beer in your hand.

“Wha- oh, thanks,” you stuttered. You'd let go of her hand to get your drink, opting to use both hands to hold it. Lottie frowned as she was handed her drink ans thanked the guy passing them out.

“Hey, you alright? Lost you for a sec,” she murmured. She’d become so gentle all of a sudden. Were you really that fragile? She forced a smile and nodded.

“Yeah, I'm great. Just haven't gotten into the party mood yet, I guess,”

“Oh, ok. Do you wanna step away, clear your head a bit?” you shook your head no.

“Nah, I'm good. I’m just gonna grab something from my bag in Tai’s car, ok?” Lottie tilted her head, almost like she was trying to look at you from a new angle.

“I can go with you,” she offered. God, why did she have to be so attentive and sweet?

“I promise I’ll be fine-” you started only for a distraction to catch your eye. “Hey, Shauna and Jackie are over that way. I’ll meet up with you when I’m done,” you offered, dialing up that chipper tone as high as you could. She finally gave in and nodded, making her way over to her other friends while you crept away to dash toward Tai, wherever she was. You eventually found her after dodging around cars and trees listening to Van argue with a group of boys about something sports-related probably. That honestly wasn’t a huge concern of hers at the moment.

“Hey, Taissa. can I borrow your keys?” Taissa arched a brow.

“You’re not trying to use my car to go joyriding or to fuck, right?”

“What? Oh my god- no. I just wanna get something from my bag. It’s in the car,”

“Where's Lot?” why is that relevant right now?

“She’s with Jackie and Shauna,” you began messing with the loose hair falling in your face, averting your eyes from her. Tai gave you an up and down before tugging at Van’s jacket.

“Van, go with y/n to my car, ok?”

“I was just in the middle-” Van started till Tai arched a brow and she gave in. Tai dropped her keys in the redhead's hand and you were off to the car again.

“Do you already wanna leave?” Van asked, walking backward in front of you.

“No, I just want something from my bag,” Van slowed to walk in stride with her hands in her pockets, watching you as you watched everyone who passed.

“Care to share?” you just looked at her and finally managed a laugh.

“I’ll share when we get there,” upon reaching the car and unlocking it, you grabbed your bag and made your way to a more secluded edge over the party where you’d be left alone, Van trailing close behind till you set your solo cup on the ground, sat down saddle style on an old, knocked-over log to rummage through your bag. You pulled out a baggy you’d been holding onto and a lighter.

“Damn, y/n, I didn’t think you the type,” the goalie said as she dropped down across from you. “Where’d ya get it?” she asked, taking the joint you pulled out to share.

“My older brother. He lives with my dad while he’s going to school and I visited him over Christmas and he gave me a few that I use quite sparingly.

“Divorced?” she asked, referring to your parents. You shrugged.

“Kinda, but not really? It’s weird. They still like each other and get along but they aren't exclusive by any means. Dad works in Cali while mom moved here to look after her mom who’s a few houses down from us,” you explained as you fidgeted with the lighter, fixated on the way the flame moved up and down, on and off. Van snatched it out of your hand during an “off” moment to light the joint now placed firmly between her teeth.

You simply watched her process, lighting the joint and then taking in a long breath before holding and letting it go with a sigh as though she was relieved before passing it to you. She did the same, watching your breath in with your eyes shut only to exhale into the dark, finishing off with a small cough before passing it once again. You could see streetlights from the main road from here, you realized.

“You’re into Lot, aren’t you?” her voice was low to not attract attention, but she was confident in what she had asked. You paused, staring out at the lights just a short walk away. Normally, an insinuation that you were gay would have you panicked. It could have been the weed, but maybe you'd relaxed and found some sliver of comfort in the redhead, your new companion.

“I think I do,” you whistled through your teeth at your admission. You turned to meet her eyes when she nudged your shoulder with the side of her hand, passing the joint off again. “Think I’m a lost cause?” Van snorted and shook her head.

“Oh, hell no. That girl’s crazy about you,” Van said with a sigh, leaning back on her hands where she was sitting on the log. “Now, I don’t know what type of way she feels. Sexual, romantic, or just friendship. But there's something there. Lot’s banked a lot on you,” you began to smile again, soft and mellow as you took another hit. After that one, you leaned down to take a chug of your beer. You offered to pass again, but Van had turned her attention back to the party, particularly to Taissa who looked like she was getting shit from Shauna. Even from over her, you could tell she was wasted given how she stumbled around. Van groaned and got up from where she was sitting.

“Keep it. I gotta deal with this,” she huffed as she left. You watched her go, eyes trailing after her to meet with Lottie’s, who was staring right at you, arm crossed over her chest and cup in hand. She seemed to hesitate between you and her arguing friends, but when the debate got particularly loud she turned with a furrowed brow. You watched her go and kept watching till Jackie derailed the entire situation, pulling all the girls away likely to yell at them. With that done, you sighed, leaning back to fully lie on the log, the joint between your lips and legs dangling over either side as you shut your eyes.

“You hiding from me over here?” you opened your eyes. The joint was nearly out as it had just been sitting between your teeth for who knows how long by now. Lottie stood over you, arms still crossed as she held onto her nearly drained drink. you shook your head, sitting up as she sat down beside you on your left, much closer than Van had been. You readjusted, sitting properly with both legs over one side of the log, shoulders hunched. Lottie's arm brushed against yours when she moves. “You didn’t come back,” she simply steed with no malice or accusation in her voice. You shrugged.

“I was getting overwhelmed I guess,” you murmured. “Didn’t feel like talking,”

“You seemed chatty with Van” Again, she simply stated fact. You sighed and leaned down to take another drink. Lottie took the joint from your hand. You watched, then reached for the lighter to give it a second wind. She held it between her forefinger and thumb for you and once it ignited once more it found home between her lips. You watched, sipping your beer. She smoked far prettier than Van had.

“Van’s a good listener guess. Doesn’t talk too much,” Lottie snorted out a laugh at that.

“I don't think anyone has ever said ‘Van Palmer doesn’t talk much’” you chuckled out a soft laugh to match hers. You looked away, out at the lights again. Lottie took another breath in, letting the joint sit between her fingers with her crossed arms. She watched the lights with you, though she might not understand the fixation you seemed to have on them. That is, till she paused, turning fully to watch you. She tilted her head again, unexpectedly brushing her fingers over your temple to guide loose hair obstructing her view out of the way and behind your ear. “Let me kiss you,” she murmured, almost as though she was pleading. You turned back to her. Her hand settled on your cheek, fingertips curiously brushing over the apple of your cheek.

“Don’t kid me,” you whispered, eyes glazing as you darted down to her parted lips.

“Never,” she shook her head ever so slightly. It made her hair sway. You swallowed hard but shakily nodded. That was enough of a yes for her to move in. She immediately dropped the joint in her hand and the hand tracing your cheek found home on the back of your neck. Her now free hand rested behind your ear, stroking your hair as you latched onto her waist, using your left hand to hold you up on the log.

She kissed like she knew exactly what she was doing. As though this had all been part of a longstanding plan. She’d envisioned this just as you had, and fuck was it perfect. Her lisp whereas urgent as your own and had it not been a public space you might have let her do anything she wanted to you right then and there. She scrunched her fist into your hair, unintentionally pulling ever so lightly on your scalp and eliciting a sudden moan from your throat which only egged her on further till she had to pull away with you chasing after her.

You opened your eyes wide, lips still parted as you gasped for breath in and out. And then, of course, you got shy, anxious voices telling you she’d regret this immediately. You began to turn from her but the hand in your hair let go and moved to trace knuckles over your cheek and subsequently turn your eyes back to her. She shook her head, murmuring no over and over, soothing you like a child about to cry. And at that thought, the thought of crying alone, you felt the tears spike in your eyes. She watched your brow crinkle as your lip trembled and she pulled you into her chest, holding you as close as she could.

The hand on your neck found your back as the hand on your cheek moved to cup the back of your head. You buried into your neck as you cried, and she rested her cheek against your scalp, murmuring over and over how it was all ok. She kissed your hair, rubbed your back, and rocked you from side to side as your hands vigorously clung to her sweater, fearing letting her go, because what if the magic would be over and gone when she was out of your hands?

But reluctantly you needed to let her go, and eventually, that point came where you emerged from her embrace, the scent of her shampoo and perfume fading from you quickly as you met her puffed, teary gaze. She moved to hold your cheeks in her hands as her breath shook. You held your hands around hers, kissing her palm with a weak smile. Fortunately, that had her let go of a watery laugh. But neither of you spoke yet. You just sat in warm silence till you readjusted to be side by side once more, your head lulled to her shoulder with her cheek at your temple.

“Fuck, what do we even do after that?” you breathed, eyes training down to the long discarded joint and red solo cups with only sips left of beer in them, though yours has spilled at some point, soaking the ground under it.

“I leave tomorrow,” she murmured back. You dressed your lips together before letting go of another sigh.

“I know… we should have waited” she chuckled sleepily.

“I don’t think so,” you hummed your why. “I’ll be excited to get back here. Well, more excited than I already was to see you,” you chuckled, though your tongue dripped with wordless sarcasm.

“Don’t forget about me,”

“Oh, how could I ever after that?” she teased with another giggle. You smiled, nuzzling your nose into her shoulder. With the change in direction, you got an idea upon seeing a small purple flower growing just beside her shoe.

“I know how,” you started, reaching across her side to pick it, leaving a nice, long stem to tuck behind her ear and in her hair. You sat back to admire your work and smiled. “Purple suits you,” you decided, tucking some of the hair behind her ear for a better look at your work. She chuckled with a sniffle, her fingers gently wrapping around your palm, catching you to kiss your fingertips.

“Mam, are you alright?” you were dragged out of your daydream like a shockwave and had to take several moments to ground yourself again, taking in a deep breath. You blinked repeatedly, shaking your head before forcing a smile.

“Yes, I’m so sorry. I was remembering something I needed,” you said with a forced chuckle. The florist smiled, though he seemed a little unsure. You turned back to the flower, petal still gently settled between your fingers. “I’ll take this, while I’m here,” you said as you cleared your throat, gently picking up the small white bucket and giving it to the florist to ring up.

“Ah, Ruellia caroliniensis. But it’s better known as Carolina Wild Petunia. A good choice. Pick it for any reason? I ask everybody that,” he asked, making meaningless small talk. Your eyes stayed focused on the waving petals of the plant as it was gently jostled around.

“It just reminded me of someone I knew, I guess,” he smiled thoughtfully and nodded with a soft hum of acknowledgment before he asked you for cash or charge. You picked charge which resulted in you digging through your purse for your card.

“Oh my god! y/n! A shrill voice called when you weren’t looking and just as you pulled out your debit card. You gave the florist you’re card before turning to look who it might be only to have the Misty Quigley herself approaching you with the wide smile and outstretched arms that you felt you had to reciprocate. She squeezed you quite tight and when she let go her hands remained at your side for a moment as she seemed to look at you in awe.

“Well, what the heck are you doing here?” she asked tilting her head with that smile still plastered across her lips till she gasped “Oh! Are you looking for Nat too?” you furrowed your brow and frowned.

“What? No, I’m-”

“Uh, mam, you’re purchase?” the florist interrupted. You turned from Misty to grab your new belonging, which he had been so kind and bagged for you as well as outstretching your card back to you.

“Yes, thank you so much! I truly appreciate it!” you said as chipperly as you could before ushering Misty out of the man’s stall and towards a clearing. “What, what are you talking about with Natalie?”

“She got kidnapped!” the blond exclaimed, adjusting her glasses. “She was taken from the motel she was staying in back home and we’re here to find her,” she blabbered on.

“Hold on, when did Nat get out of rehab and who is we?”

“I dunno, a few weeks ago I think? So much had been going on and it's been hard to keep track and ‘we’ is me and Walter,” you were still confused about the situation and about to ask who Walter was when the man himself showed up. He’d be trailing behind Misty for some time, just casually in the background. He was so average you hadn’t even noticed him. The man waved and offered a smile. You tentatively returned the wave but still seemed confused.

“I’m not here for Natalie. I didn’t hear about that at all. No, I’m looking for Lottie,” you said rather bluntly. Misty frowned and it was now her turn to be confused.

“Lottie? But she’s been in Switzerland for years-”

“Well I thought that too will I saw this,” you whispered, hissing through your teeth as you frantically pulled out your phone and the screenshot you’d taken of the farmers market Instagram post, zooming in on Lottie and shoving the device into her hands.

“No, that can’t be her,”

“It is. I just- it’s not a great angle but I know it’s her,” you insisted. Misty began to scan the photo curiously, zooming back out when she let out a dramatic gasp and began excitedly smacking at your arm.

“Purple people!” you yelled. “Purple people!” she repeated it to Walter this time, which summoned him to rush over and huddle around your phone.

“The purple people took Natalie!” she explained with far too much excitement for your liking.

“Could they have taken Lottie,” Misty shrugged.

“I dunno, maybe. But only one way to find out!” She shoved your phone back in your hand and began aggressively powerwalking away with Walter tight on her heels. You hesitated momentarily before shutting your phone off and shoving it into your purse, hustling after them.

“Wait! Do you know where to go?”

“Yes! Of course! We found out from the other stalls,” she called back. “Get in your car and follow us!” she sounded far too excited for this whole ordeal, but what other options did you have to find Lottie? You ran back to your car, got in, and started with heavy breath ready to take the next step on this crazy adventure you found yourself on.

-💚-

After quite a bit of driving, they pulled off into a bed and breakfast parking lot and parked. You parked beside them and got out with a frustrated expression.

“We're not going tonight.” Misty rolled her eyes and she pulled her suitcase out of the trunk of what you assumed was Walter’s car.

“Someone,” she was heavily implying someone to be Walter, especially with the annoyed, flat-mouthed looks he gave him “wanted to wait till morning because he thinks the cult will expect us at night,” you gave her a look that asked “really” and Misty threw up a hand, shaking her head as she grabbed onto her luggage.

“I know! Trust me, I know, but captain’s orders,” she huffed as she followed Walter into the B&B. You paused, letting out an exasperated sigh before going to grab your duffle back and your plant. You hear Misty muttering about not using her real name as she and Walter get a room.

“And it's just for one room, right?” the concierge asked. There was an irritatingly comedic back and forth of yes, and no, then both of them settled on no, two rooms would be fine.

“And, um, you can put mine under the name Lady Mallowan,” Misty gave herself a name straight out of Clue or a shitty romance novel and you couldn’t help rolling your eyes.

“Seventeen and eighteen. Up the stairs to the right,” then went back and forth with thank yous as they clumsily took their keys, then started deliberating about luggage when Walter offered to take the suitcase off of Misty’s hands.

“Just one room under y/n l/n is fine, please,” you said simply. You saw Misty and her new boyfriend exchange an appalling look and you had to refrain from laughing.

“Room nineteen,”

“That’s great, thanks” You dropped your things upon entry, but gently placed your plant in its bed on the nightstand before collapsing on your bed with a long sigh. Of course, you'd need to get up and change, but for now, lying on your back in a bed that wasn’t yours was all you could feel like doing. That is till you got up from said bed and disappeared into the bathroom, returning with a small paper cup of water that you set on the nightstand as you sat on the edge of the bed. You tentatively opened the bag that held your plant and took it out, setting it on the stand to be out and in the fresh air. You gave it a light drink from the cup before you returned to the bathroom for a shower.

-💚-

You were woken by Misty’s knock at you’re door bright and early at seven-thirty and back on the road by eight after grabbing complimentary breakfast to go. It was a rather long drive to wherever you were going, but you once again found ways to fill the time. That is till Walter took a screeching u-turn that almost caused a car crash on a winding, wet wooded road, but that was a conversation for later. You pulled up beside them and followed as they now stood excitedly outside a green gate that happened to have a matching bee on it. All you carried with you was your tote bag with your plant tucked away inside. Why you felt the need to bring it, you weren't sure, but it felt necessary.

“The bee is where the purple people are!” Misty insistently explained.

“Ok, do we need to call them ‘the purple people”

“Well, yes, but that's only till we get a better name for them. But anyway,” without another word of it, Misty ducked under the gate herself and began walking up the road.

“Ok, we’re getting hit by a car if we do that-” you started but she shook her head.

“It'll be fine. It looks decently short,”

“Well what about my car?” you urged.

“Just lock it! Who’s pulling over in the rain to rob an unattended car out here?” you sighed with exasperation.

“I dunno, maybe people from the cult we’re actively visiting,” you mumbled to yourself.

“What was that!”

“Nothing!” you huffed, following after Misty and now Walter, who had started moving shortly after her. She’d been right though. It was a rather short walk with no cars. You found yourself in what looked like a parking lot in the middle of the woods blocking off yet another road with an even larger fence in front of it. Misty and Walter were actively messing with an intercom system that seemed to have worked as they excitedly returned to your side.

“Alright, so the man on the other end, I think his name was Jack or Jackson- anyway, he’s getting Natalie and she's coming to meet us here,”

“But what about Lottie?” Misty adjusted her glasses and folded her arms with a shrug.

“I thought we could have Natalie confirm that, because we know she’s in there-”

“You don’t believe me,” you interrupted as she began trailing off.

“Well, we do not want to be making outlandish accusations to strangers, I mean-” she got easily distracted by the sound of someone walking down the pebbled path.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Nataline started with heavy irritation.

“Oh, thank God you're safe,” Misty would have hugged her by now had the gate not been in her way.

“Safe? What are you talking about?” her attention turned to you and her eyes widened with further confusion “Hi, y/n,” she added tentatively. You awkwardly waved as she gave you a nod.

“And who the fսck is this?” she gestured to Walter now.

“Walter,” he simply introduced himself with a wave and a light chuckle before going on. “I've heard nothing but wonderful things about you” Natalie scrunched her nose, clearly not caring all that much about what impression Misty had given him of her upon first meeting.

“We're here to rescue you!” Misty eagerly interjected again. “I mean, you-you were kidnapped, right?”

“No. Uh, yes, technically I was, but it's no big deal, okay?” the notion that Natalie’s kidnapping wasnt that big of a deal was bewildering to Misty as seen on her face, but honestly you understood her reaction.

“Lottie sent some people for me, but I'm not being held against my will,” she muttered, twisting her neck as she spoke. “Well, not anymore” It was now your turn to perk up.

“I'm sorry, Lottie?”

“I told you she was here,” you hissed through your teeth at Misty, moving closer to the fencing.

“Wait- as in Lottie? Lottie, who was committed to a mental institution in Switzerland? That Lottie?”

“Yes, Misty, that's the one,” Natalie turned to you once more “I'm assuming you had your theories or whatever?”

“Oh, I’m not here with them-” you paused. “Ok, originally I was coming here all on my own, but we ran into each other, and well,” from there you gave up.

“Wait, Natalie, Natalie!” Misty derailed the conversation once again. “You're gonna have to elaborate,

“Look, she runs a place here, and she's helping me reflect or whatever. So, you and your Hardy Boy can go home,” she looked Walter up and down again about Hardy Boy.

“But…”

“I'm doing a fսcking thing here, Misty. I don't need you getting in my way,” she’d lost patience with the blonde’s interruptions and persistence and in all honestly, you felt bad for her given how she shrank back at the raised tone. But she quickly toughened back up, turned on her heels, and marched back in the direction you'd come.

“She seems nice,” Walter tried to lighten the mood. Natalie sighed with either exhaustion or irritation, watching them go before her eyes drifted to you, still standing in front of her. “You’re not done too?”

“Natalie, I need to see her,” she let out a scoffish chuckle and sighed through her nose.

“Oh, I’m sure you do,”

“I’m serious, Natalie,”

“Oh no, I can tell you are, don’t worry. Just- just give me a minute, alright. Let me ask my guy,” she began to turn but waited for you to nod before actually leaving. You stood still, turning to check your surroundings once more just to be as sure as possible. Natalie returned quite quickly with a man behind her. She shrugged, seeming surprised by the verdict herself as the gate’s electric lock began to unlatch letting you in.

“Uh, my car is still parked with some of my things,” Natalie was already shaking her head.

“We can have someone come and retrieve it all later,” Natalie’s companion started ad Natalie turned, already heading up the hill for a second time.

“But you're not gonna need it!” she yelled behind her. Due to her eagerness to leave the scene, you were left walking beside the strange man who let you in.

“So, I'm assuming you’re Jack or…” you drawled off but he chuckled, appreciating your intention.

“Jeferson,” he cleared.

“Right, ok. Nice to meet you,” you nodded, your hands clutching quite tight to the straps of your tote bag. “Look, I don’t mean to sound rude, but I’m only here to see Lottie not join your… well join whatever you're up to,” he laughed again and nodded.

“Don’t worry. She knows you're here,” a shive rushed down your spine as you realized what was happening. “I’m instructed to take her to you, actually,”

“Oh. wow, that’s just great. Yeah, great,” you whispered to yourself as you bit your lip, questioning if this was going to be a good idea after all. When you looked up again, taking a deep breath you were met with quite a beautiful scene before you. It was a nice, well-organized camp on a lake with cabins and what you assumed were social areas all around and throughout the woods. You paused for a moment to take it in and wonder, did Lottie make all of this?

“Charlotte is waiting this way, Ms. l/n,” Jeferson interrupted your wonderings.

“Mhm, I’m coming,” you had to manually tell your feet to move before you could follow him to the separate cabin that must be Lottie’s. He had already walked up the stairs by the time you approached the porch, taking a moment to appreciate its handiwork before trudging up the creaking wood. Jefferson opened the door but didn’t enter, only gesturing for you to go in.

“Charlotte will be here as soon as she can step away,” he explained as you cautiously walked in. You nodded, turning around to give him your thanks but he was already shutting the door, leaving you to your own devices. For a moment you stood completely still, watching the wooden door anticipating her walking in at any second, but after a few seconds of stillness, your foot began bouncing with building anxiety squeezing at your chest.

“Shit,” you hissed, turning to look around your surroundings and find something to help you calm down. You put your bag on the table, but take the time to take the plant out and set it beside your bag. You rubbed your sweating palms on your pants and began to wander around the single room you found yourself in. Her main space was split into a small lounge-ish office space with a kitchen on the other half.

You assumed the bathroom and her bedroom were down in the back of the cabin and with a craning of your neck you could see in one of the rooms but you decided it best to leave that be. Wandering around the office space you ran your fingertips over the edge of her desk. You peaked over the edge, curiosity winning momentarily before you restrained yourself, instead turning to the art hung on her wall featuring deer and other wilderness things before resigning yourself to the couch facing her desk.

You flopped down rather unceremoniously but couldn't help sitting stiff, hunched forward with your knee bouncing in anticipation. Your eyes trained on her desk again, which was mostly bare of anything decor-like other than the two small picture frames. You forced yourself to look away till your nerves kicked in again and you were back up and taking the large one into your hands. It featured a classic team photo of the soccer team back in high school, but earlier on during your sophomore year.

You chuckled lightly scanning over the baby faces your old friends used to have. Having something familiar to look at was relaxing, you decided. Maybe not the most morally correct thing, but this was an exceptional situation. So, you moved on to the small one, thinking none of it till she got a look and your heart dropped again. Pressed pristinely against the glass was an all too familiar flower, nearly identical to the one you'd been carrying for the past day and a half. Only this one had far more wear to it, clearly showing its age. It had faded in color over time, taking on hues of parchment brown rather than the vibrant purples you’d been familiar with. You traced over the shapes of the petals, likely dry and dusty to the touch by now over its safety net of glass. That is till you heard the carbon door abruptly shut.

And oh, she was perfect. She was sickeningly, stunningly perfect but all you could do was freeze where you stood, grip tightening around the small wooden frame in your clasp out of fear you might drop it if you didn’t squeeze tight. And she stood just as stunned at you. Age had encompassed her face all this time, but it was still her face. The one you had ingrained in your mind, so much more detailed than any photograph. You felt your chin begin to quiver.

“Please tell me you didn't hold on to that all these years" You had to force it out with your breath ad your brow bowed with the strain of keeping it together. And then she laughed. She laughed her laugh, now blossoming with the beautiful thing that is age, just as every other part of her was. She moved toward you as though she was floating. She took her caftan off so smoothly it was like the breeze itself removed it for her. And before anything else, she took the frame from your hands, fingertips brushing together only for a moment. She returned it to its place before shakily turning back to you, tears drizzling from her eyes as she smiled.

“How could I not,” she murmured with a laugh full of exasperated joy as though she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Her hands hovered over your arms as though she feared touching you would break the illusion, but with the way your lip trembled and tears rolled from your eyes as you held back a strangled sob she couldn’t refrain herself. It all felt so new and old all at once and oh, how overwhelming she was, her hands cupped at your face, thumbs stroking at your tears as you let it all go, sopping into her.

Just as she had years before she murmured sweet nothing promising that you were safe and you were here, but not only you. After so much time she needed the reassurance of reality just as much. She pulled you in, just as before and your nose found its rightful place in the curve of her neck as her cheek found your scalp. She held you up and close as your knees began to shake and you had to grip onto her shoulder blades for what felt like dear life. You needed to feel her to truly know that she was here, she was real and she was yours, as were you.

#fanfiction requests #fic request #◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ kay's at it again♡#yellowjackets fanfic #yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets requests #yellowjackets #lottie matthews #lottie matthews x reader #yellowjackets spoilers

190 notes · View notes