#How Big Will Grapes Grow

[arolesbianism]

Man oni can't do this to me I'm supposed to be preparing for artfight but all I can think abt is Them™ from the second I wake up to the moment I go to bed how am I supposed to prepare in these circumstances 😔

[bitchfitch]

when i have time to redesign Jish my sole goal will be to make him Extremely huge large and intimidating looking, but have that vibe cease to hold up at all the moment you see him do tricks for grapes.

[girlygguk]

such an asshole ⋆ jjk

popular jock jk x popular cheerleader fem reader

draft dump, drabble, fluff, 1328 words, jungkook is oc's #1 bff and #1 protector, jk is cold to others, except her, bitchy queen bee oc, brief lil taekook squabble, tae's situationship makes a comment toward oc, jk doesn't like that, cute read

the cafeteria was loud. hobi’s laugh was louder.

he was in the middle of one of his laughing fits—the kind that had him slapping his knees, the table, and unfortunately, anyone sitting too close. today’s victim was taehyung, who rubbed his arm with a wince but couldn’t help laughing along even through the pain.

“hobi, you’re going to bruise the poor boy,” you hummed, stabbing a green grape from your tray with your fork before popping it into your mouth.

“deserves it,” your best friend muttered, reaching over to steal two grapes off your tray like the menace he was. his long fingers twirled one in his hand before casually tossing it into his mouth.

you turned to jungkook, narrowing your eyes, but he was already watching, his lips quirked as if waiting for you to say something. you opened your mouth to do exactly that, call out his audacity to take your grapes when his own tray of untouched food sat right in front of him, when taehyung interrupted.

“uh, fuck off, kook,” tae scoffed through a laugh, still rubbing his arm. “there wasn’t enough time to make that pass, and you know it.”

you blinked amusedly, chewing slowly with another grape speared on your fork as you watched the scene.

“there was enough time for your grandma to make that fuckin’ pass, hyung,” jungkook rolled his eyes before reaching for your vitamin water.

he unscrewed the cap and took a big gulp, passing it to you when your hand reached out for your own sip. when you were done, he took the bottle back and re-lidded it while taehyung's annoyed grumble cut through the air.

“my grandma’s in a wheelchair, you assh—”

“exactly,” jungkook deadpanned, placing the drink back on the table and reaching for another grape from your tray.

you gasped through a laugh, wrapping both hands around his larger one to keep it away from your food. “no, j! you wanted pizza, so eat your nasty ass cardboard—”

“there wasn’t enough time!” taehyung whined while you were in fits of giggles, paying little attention to his protest as you swatted jungkook away when he tried to dodge your hands and sneak more grapes.

when tae didn’t get the response he wanted from jungkook, he turned to the rest of the group with a dramatic frown. “guys?? don’t you think there wasn’t enough time?”

jungkook finally gave up wrestling you, letting his hand rest on your thigh as he glanced down at your tray with the most pitiful look. “just one, please?” he murmured softly. “don’t want pizza anymore…”

you rolled your eyes, sliding the tray toward him, a small smile tugging at your lips. you didn’t actually care; you just liked making him work for it.

as he picked at the grapes, you unwrapped a muesli bar, leaning your head on his shoulder while taehyung continued his tirade, searching the table for backup. “guys, seriously—don’t you think there wasn’t enough time?”

“i don’t know how to play football,” jimin shrugged, biting into a chicken finger. “and i wouldn’t care even if i did, taehyungie.”

you snickered at his response while taehyung groaned dramatically, clearly growing more frustrated. jungkook just watched him with a dull expression, almost finished with the fruit on your tray.

hobi agreed with taehyung, saying there wasn’t enough time, while namjoon shook his head, disagreeing. growing more desperate, taehyung turned to lia who sat beside him. “li, what about you? you know how to play, right?”

lia perked up, blinking prettily at him. “uh, yeah. definitely enough time,” she nodded confidently, making tae jut his chin out triumphantly at jungkook.

jungkook’s only response was a mocking nod as he finished off the last grape before taking the rest of the muesli bar you held out for him. “and you, y/n?” taehyung asked, turning to you with big, hopeful eyes. “what d’you think?”

you finished chewing your mouthful before meeting his expectant look with alittle shrug. “i think there was enough time, tae.” when you saw his shoulders droop slightly, you added lightly, “but it doesn’t matter. it was just a practice rally. who even cares—”

“course you’d say that,” lia muttered under her breath, popping a fry into her mouth.

your brows lifted slightly, tilting your head a little in amusement. “hm?”

the table fell silent. lia blinked up, pursing her lips before awkwardly laughing. “i just mean, like, of course you’d say that… you’d agree with jungkook no matter what, right? that’s, like… your thing?”

you bit back a laugh, very happily about to respond. but before you could, jungkook cut in, his voice cold and bored. “who even are you again?”

hobi’s strangled gasp cut through the air at his words. jimin buried his face in hobi’s chest to muffle his snickers while namjoon stared wide-eyed at his tray, hand pressed tightly over his mouth to cover his grin.

“aish… come on, kook,” taehyung winced lightly, glancing between the three of you awkwardly.

you didn’t blame tae for not really knowing how to react. you were all friends, had been for a long time. but lia was his latest link, and he seemed to like her a lot. you didn’t actually care about what she had to say anyway. she was new to cheer, and you knew from the moment you met her there was no substance to anything that came out of her mouth, so she didn’t bother you in the slightest.

your best friend, on the other hand? bothered.

“no, really,” jungkook said, tossing the empty wrapper onto the tray and sliding his hand back onto your thigh. “i mean, i know your name is ‘lee’ because taehyung just said it, but i honestly don’t even remember you sitting down…”

you absentmindedly fiddled with his fingers in your lap, head tilted curiously as you waited for lia’s response. but all she could do was open and close her mouth, clearly at a loss for words. “wh- i-” she stammered, looking to taehyung for help before scoffing lightly, “i’ve been sitting here, like, every day for the last week…”

jungkook just blinked slowly. he turned his head to you with a confused look, as if he was genuinely trying to figure out if what she said was true. you nodded slightly, your lips twitching as you confirmed she had, in fact, been sitting there. lia’s jaw dropped in disbelief as jungkook simply turned back to her, pursing his lips.

“oh,” he muttered, not sparing her a second glance as he picked up his phone with his free hand, swiping through it like the conversation had never even happened.

the table fell silent for a beat before jimin finally lost it, bursting into laughter that had him clutching hobi tighter. taehyung groaned, burying his face in his hands as you quietly laughed, your head leaning back against jungkook’s shoulder.

lia swallowed harshly in humiliation before muttering something about class, hastily gathering her things and leaving the table. you watched her walk off, your mind already wondering if she’d show up to practice tonight. you hoped she would.

“that was mean, kookie…” you said, turning to him with a pout. there wasn’t a hint of sincerity in your voice, though, and he knew it.

jungkook locked his phone, his gaze trailing over your pretty face before humming lowly, “meaner than what you would’ve said?”

your lips pursed as you pretended to think it over before nodding. “uh-huh. i’m an angel.”

“mhm,” he hummed, though the smile tugging at his lips told you he knew better. his hand tightened around your thigh, sliding you closer to him on the bench.

you chuckled softly, looping your arm through his and resting your cheek against his bicep. he opened his instagram to show you a reel he thought you’d find funny, as if he’d already completely forgotten about the last five minutes.

such an asshole, you thought amusedly. god, it was hot.

perm taglist @elinaki92 @parapiop7 @photogenius-530 @vantaebearr @crazy-eight17 @aalisiyahxstar @lovieku @apobangpogirlyyy @jungkookmyoneandonlybaby @whoa-jo @kooeuphoria @junecat18 @fr0ggieth1nk @joonwater @myjungkookthighs @nikidream24 @whothefuckisthishoe @4noirre @gaebestie @lllucere @kissyfacekoo @rpwprpwprpwprw @granataepfelchen @yoonstaar

[luveline]

hotch’s daughter and him looking thru baby n childhood pics n realizing just how much they missed angst (her missing out on having a present father n him missing out on raising her)

Aaron’s winded when he sees you that morning. You’re smiling, in sweatpants and a hoodie with a bag on your shoulder that promises an overnight stay, but what hits hardest is the way you light up when he opens the front door. He sees you coming through the window and can’t wait for you to knock. 

“Hey, honey, you’re early!” he says. 

“I know,” you say, stopping just a paving stone away, “but I got this magic jigsaw for Jack that I thought he’d like. Once you complete it you can move it around and create a new jigsaw in the middle.” You smile. “You look happy. Good breakfast?” 

“I’m happy to see you, that’s all.” 

You cross that last step. “Thanks, dad.” You bite your bottom lip, ever so slightly bashful. 

He literally couldn’t be happier. “Did you eat?” 

Aaron brings you inside. Jack is already awake and eating his second breakfast in a meandering picking by the TV. 

You love being a big sister. It’s all the more endearing. “Hey, babe. What are you upto?” you ask. 

Jack whirls and sends a couple of grapes flying. “Oh my gosh yes!” he says, to your laughter and Aaron’s disbelief. He races across the rug in a blur of blue pyjamas to wrap himself around your thighs, face pressed to your hip. “You’re here!” 

“We said Saturday sleepover, right?” 

You get down on your knees to hug him. Your arms around his back, your face to his, you aren’t as rough as you could be —how do sisters hug their brothers? Aaron doesn’t know. But you rub his back in a gentle up and down and lower your voice to say hello. “Hi, Jack. You’re happy to see me?” 

“I’m so happy.” 

“Me too, I’m so happy. I brought you something.” 

“A present?” Jack asks, leaning out of your arms. 

“Not really, it’s for me and you, but I brought you cookies too.” 

“Dad,” Jack says, “can we have some?” 

Aaron holds up a finger. One cookie is enough sugar for the morning. “We can have a couple more after dinner tonight, okay?” 

You take the cookies from your bag, a huge box of palm-sized cookies, chocolate chips shaped like stars, the best kind of indulgence from the bakery not far from here. Aaron catches a look at the inside of your bag, spying a slim white photo album against your weekly medication divider and the plastic wrapped jigsaw puzzle. 

“What’s the album?” he asks. 

“Oh.” You slide your thumb along the sticker that seals the cookies and crack them open for Jack to take his spoils. “They’re my baby photos.” 

He stills. “They are?” 

“And some of me growing up.” You tip your head at him and smile. A little shy, more happy. “I was thinking about Jack, how we both do that chokey laugh when we’re tired, and I wondered if we had any other similarities. And then I realised you’ve never actually seen any of my photos. Would you want to look at them?” 

“Please,” he says immediately. “Yes. I’d love to see them.” 

You lay the album out on the coffee table. Aaron sits beside you on the couch, and Jack sits on his feet, and together you look through your baby album one page at a time. At first, he’s quiet. He has no idea what to say. You are a beautiful kid, you’re perfect, little baby you with a pacifier on your tummy, or in the summer sun with mud on your little hands, wearing a pink dress with matching canvas shoes and a smile so wide he can see all your baby teeth, or sitting beside a fish tank with a party hat on. 

His favourite is a photograph of you that’s been printed oddly, more sepia than colour, where you look to be eight or nine years old. He can see everything in your adult face right there in ink, your smile, the trusting warmth in your eyes when you love the person it’s directed at. Maybe he’s full of himself, but he swears it’s his smile, and Jack’s smile. Hotchner through and through. 

“I wish I’d seen you in person,” he says quietly. “Just once.” 

You tease the photograph from the plastic sleeve and offer it to him. “Sorry.” 

He doesn’t want you to be sorry. Aaron takes the photograph and stares at it against his leg, your little face, your hands behind your back, your left knee wrapped in a bandage. “We missed out on so much,” he says softly. 

“I know.” 

He places the photo on the armrest, precious and needing a frame. You melt into his arm as he wraps it around your shoulder, and you let him kiss your temple, even if he doesn’t deserve to do it yet. He’s polite about it, he knows his sincerity might feel gratuitous to you —after all, he missed out on so much. But you don’t go rigid at his affection, you just breathe. 

“I would’ve loved to have seen it,” he says, too old for tears, and yet a warmth collects behind his eyes anyhow. He won’t cry, only the feeling is there and aching as you move back and give him a typical Hotchner smile. Like he’s being silly, and like you love him. 

“It’ll be okay,” you say, “you’ve got, what, a good ten years left? You can see my golden years.” 

He laughs suddenly. “Ten? How old do you think I am?” 

“You act like you’re nearing seventy.” 

“Oh, I do?” 

You roll your eyes and lean across the photo album for another cookie. “You do! I wish we didn’t have to wait so long to meet, but it’s not like I’m going anywhere. You won’t find me so charming in a few years, so don’t worry. Now, could you leave me and Jack alone for a bit? I’m trying to sneak him another cookie and you’re getting in the way.” 

Aaron hugs you whether you want him to or not, a tight squeeze that you always seem to enjoy, before doing as you’ve asked, promising to find the jigsaw board in the garage so you and Jack can start the newest one. 

“Did you miss him?” he hears Jack asks inexplicably. 

“Who, dad?” Aaron watches you from the door that leads into the garage. He can only see your hands from this angle, your left one landing on Jack’s shoulder for a small squeeze. “I missed him so much you couldn’t believe it.” 

“Thank you for the cookie.” 

“You’re welcome! I missed you too, you know? I have to make up for all my lost time being your big sister. Here, you can hide this one in your pocket, if you want. Just don’t forget it’s there.” 

[backinmyphase]

Not the whole truth

Synopsis: You didn't know why, but Satoru Gojo was acting different than usual and not in a good way. Well, your husband was sure that you were lying to him.

Or: Satoru Gojo doesn't even know how attached he will grow to his wife yet.

Pairing: Gojo x reader, 3100 words

Series masterlist

Contains: arranged marriage, generational trauma, jujutsu clans and higher ups, much Angst, trowing up, mention of curses

I'm sorry that this chapter is a bit later than usual, I was feeling a bit sick and fitting with the chapter I threw up :') But I hope you enjoy and feel free to comment, I love to read your thoughts!

"Were you expecting a letter?"

Your husband Satoru Gojo doesn't even look at you as he speaks. Instead his face is expressionless, like a mask he was wearing. Almost like your mother.

He was acting so different from yesterday, it was scary. Did you cross a line?

"No, why? Did a letter come?"

His voice isn't heared a couple of seconds, until he spoke again. "Yeah, from your mother."

Your eyes couldn't help but widen as his words sunk in. She knew. She knew where you were. The house wasn't yours anymore, she knew. How? Since when? HOW?

Satoru's head rose and his eyes suddenly seemed so far away. Like an ocean you will never cross. Cold, like the icebergs in the Antarctica. Not like anytime you saw them before.

"Oh really?"

You kept your voice steady as you took a grape from the offered lunch of the hotel.

"Yeah, here." he slided the piece of paper across the small table to you. Your name written in the handwriting you knew so well. "Does she write you regularly?"

Your mind froze as you thought back. Yeah, she did. But not because of the reason he thought she did. Not because she was worried about her precious daughter. No, more like she worried about her hopefully grandson.

You just nodded and wanted to open the letter as his warm hand grabbed yours.

For a moment he seemed approachable. His eyes bigger than before he looked at you with almost desperation in those deep eyes.

"Are you really close with her?"

The piece of paper sank deep into your skin as you looked at him. What should you do? You couldn't let him know, your mother would kill you! But...

It was so hard when he looked at you like that.

Your hands fiddled with the piece of the paper and drew your whole attention. They were twitching. You wanted to rip them out.

"Yes, I am." the lie left your mouth like a rock falling down a mountain. Fast but not safe. "Didn't I tell you that already?"

His eyes and mind closed from you eight in front of your eyes. You could see his emotions being pushed down and his body sitting up straight.

"Well, then." he stood up to go to the bathroom. "Could you tell me later what was written inside?"

You just nodded as he left. What happened since yesterday? What did you do? How did you get in this situation?

+:★:+*━━━ A bit ago ━━━*+:★:+*

The bed was cold. So so cold. Your consciousness slowly grew as you shivered at the unexpected coldness under the covers of the big bed.

He wasn't here.

Did you wake up early than usual? Normally he would wake you by accidentally being a bit louder when he came back from his round around the town. But Satoru didn't seem in sight.

Your body had the usual heaviness it was yesterday freed from. It wasn't easy to leave the bed but you wanted to get up.

You felt terrible.

The tiredness became unreal. Why couldn't you just be well rested after that much sleep? It felt like a boulder pressed your body down and chained you to the bed. Your body seemed so lazy.

Legs heavy, you slowly made your way to the bathroom. The clock surprising you.

10:24?

That couldn't be right. No, Satoru should have showed up by that already! And you surely haven't slept that much! Right?

As you looked at your things you needed to get ready, you sighed. There it was like every morning. The hairpin of your mother, your wedding present.

Why did you even take it with you? Yes, it was pretty but the guilt that came with it was far more influence. And you didn't even use it!

It almost seemed to look at you disappointed.

Your exhaustion was really getting out of hand! Maybe you should talk to Hina's grandmother for advice against sleeping problems...

As you began to brush your teeth, you this feeling of uneasiness began to creep up your back. Slowly, like a someone was watching you. Like something will happen...

The sound of the door opening made you cough up your toothpaste.

"Er, phew! Satoru?" you called over your shoulder while washing your face.

"Yeah?"

"Did you have trouble?" you dried your face trying to get your eyes to open properly. "You're later than usual."

He kept quiet for a couple of seconds. Then he sighed. "Yeah, you could say that."

The silence after that wasn't like the silence yesterday. It was awkward, you didn't know what to say. You couldn't explain it, but he sounded different. He didn't sound like smiling.

"I'm going down to eat lunch." his voice got a bit more quiet and moved away. "I didn't get anything."

"Okay." you didn't know what was happening, but something was wrong. The comfort of yesterday wasn't seen in any corner, didn't matter how much you searched for it.

Oh, god you did something wrong, didn't you?

+:★:+*━━━ Now ━━━*+:★:+*

Your letter weighed heavy in your hand. And as you opened it, the weight only seemed to grow.

Dear daughter,

I hope this letter finds you enjoying yourself. Well, after all that's what you so desperately seem to want. You can count yourself lucky, your slip up is being forgiven. The higher ups seem to be of the opinion that you acted for the greater good and just didn't think. That you wanted to take action in the matter heir.

They expect that you will expect a child when you come back.

The luck really is on your side. They wouldn't be half as kind if they weren't aware of where you were. Your vacation isn't frowned upon, as long you don't forget why you took it.

Enjoy your days, Sincerely, your mother.

On the back was the date of your next meeting engraved. She didn't write you anything else. You felt like throwing up.

Taking action in the matter heir? Expecting a child? You weren't close to anything like that!

What would they do to you, if they find out? No, when they find out? What will your mother say?

The table full of things to eat was suddenly all grey. You didn't feel hungry anymore, even though you didn't eat much.

Tears began to form in your eyes. You couldn't help it. The reality of what you were supposed to do came crushing down on you, making no room for the lightness of yesterday.

You desperately rubbed your eyes, trying to stop the tears but it was no use.

You couldn't show yourself like this to Satoru.

Your room didn't have the thickest walls, he would hear you in the bathroom. So you moved to the bathroom for the guests that weren't staying over the night and tried to calm down.

What were you supposed to tell Satoru?

+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

Satoru knew that he should have given you both letters. But there was this uneasiness in the room with all these questions.

Why did these old hags even write you?

He couldn't explain it to himself. And he wanted to open the letter so bad to find the answer. But...

He didn't want to open letters that were for you. That felt so wrong. Like he was using your trust and god he didn't want you to be mad at him again.

But did you even trust him?

If you did, why were you lying to him? You seemed to have anything but a good relationship with your mother. But when he asked you, you insisted that you did. Two times.

Your face as you looked at the letter wasn't screaming happiness. No, it was confusion and even something like fear.

Did you think you could fool him?

The mirror was fogged as he left the shower. He felt uneasy. Like he wasn't seeing something he should.

Sighing, he started to get ready. Maybe he was over thinking. Maybe you did have a good relationship with your mother. You did have meetings with her a couple of times.

Which were really long...

The meetings?

+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

"You don't look well. Are you okay?"

In fact you looked like you had cried. But you didn't seem to show that to him, meaning you smiled at him like that would be a prove.

"Yeah, don't worry."

He couldn't stand this charade that you played now. But he decided to play along. "What did she write to you?"

"Oh, the usual. I should greet you from my mother. She wished us a good honeymoon and that we would enjoy our time." the laugh that followed was more than forced.

He felt his patience slipping away. "I thought she didn't like me?"

You looked at him like he was speaking another language. "I mean yeah-, but your still my husband which she respects." the fastness with wich you spoke gave you away.

You were nervous. Why were you this nervous in his presence?

"Ah."

"Are you okay?" you looked at him with a frown. "You seem on edge."

Oh and how he was on edge. Who wasn't, when they knew they were being lied to?

"Yeah, just a bit stressed." he couldn't help but look at the letter in your hands. "Have the feeling there is a curse nearby."

"A curse?" your eyes were grewing big. "Here?"

"I will look for it later." he was sure he needed some time alone after this. "We can go to the restaurant some other time, right?"

You nodded, a terrified look in your eyes. "Of course!" you stood up. "I should go to our room, I don't want to hinder your work."

"Wait."

Now or never.

"I wanted to ask you something."

You stopped. Your tense back to him. "What is it?"

"Did the higher-ups bother you with something? Regarding our marriage?" he cleared his throat. "Just curious."

You didn't look at him, just muttered a small 'No' and 'Is there anything else?'

He let you go upstairs. Now he was sure of it. You kept something from him. And this something was in those letters.

+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

Satoru was out for hours.

You were worried about him. He seemed so out of it this morning. And then these questions...

Was he onto something?

You couldn't afford his mistrust. Not when your whole purpose is making an heir!

That sounded so wrong.

You looked at the books on your night table he bought for you. They were all a bit different. Some a different genre. Like he wanted to make sure you had at least on book that you would like.

You hated yourself for lying to this man.

You sighed as the usual tiredness overcame you again. Grabbing a book you read. Just wanting to forget this morning.

+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

It was late. The moon was already up and as he went up the stairs he knew that you would already be in bed.

He canceled your reservation.

He wasn't sure why, but he didn't want to ho there anymore. Not after he read what these douchbags were writing you.

Not after he knew what you kept from him.

He opened the door slowly and careful trying not to wake you. You were curled up on the bed, you seemed to shiver.

On the table next to you the second letter.

"Satoru, is that you?" your teeth were chattering.

"Yeah, it's just me."

He felt so dumb as he looked at you. So dumb for thinking you could just have a normal honeymoon, when you weren't even in love.

"Need your warmth." you sniffled. "Please?"

He was fighting with himself. He didn't want to invade your personal space, not after reading all of that. Not when you thought of it like it was your duty to-

He shivered just thinking about it.

But at the same time he didn't want you to be cold. And how could he deny his darling wife?

"I'm coming." very carefully he laid himself next to you, trying to avoid touching you, just carefully hugging you. "Is that better?"

You seemed to sleep already.

+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

It was so cold.

Your body felt like being pushed around, everything seemed to spin. Your hands felt frozen, like they didn't were under the covers.

Your throat was dry and something sticky seemed to make itself home in it. The force that held your eyes closed was so strong.

The spinning didn't seem to end.

Wait, a second... It didn't just feel like your body moved, it did!

With much willpower you forced your eyes to open and slowly turned around. And your blood seemed to freeze with your body.

There was Satoru sleeping but had a frown on his face. And a distance between you. But not because he moved, you were pushed back. By something you couldn't see. By infinity.

...

You forced yourself up, away from the bed. Everything started to make sense. He wasn't comfortable in your presence. After yesterday he searched for distance, even in his subconsciousness.

You were to pushy, god, why were you so pushy?!

Slowly you took steps back, trying to get away from the invisible wall that so clearly pushed you away. Almost stumbling you went into the bathroom.

01:24

Kinda ironic.

As you looked in the mirror you gasped. You looked like a corpse. Your fingers in the light even a bit blue. Panic started to rise and pushed you onte the ground.

Spit began to collect in your mouth and your stomach twisted. Your head was so heavy as you slided over to the toilet.

And then it just fell all out.

Your stomach twisting and turning, the pain slowly leaving but your eyes were burning even more.

It seemed to go for hours as you sat there. Defeated, so so powerless.

You felt disgusting.

+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

You didn't know how, but somehow you collected all your pieces and cleaned everything before falling onto the couch.

It was harder then the bed, but that didn't bother you anymore. The distance between you was far more important now.

He seemed to sleep so peaceful now.

He had moved since you stood up. God, now you were the one watching him sleep, you should get your act together.

But even though you were so so tired, you couldn't sleep.

Your surrounding seemed to watch you and the uneasy feeling from the morning came doubled back.

The luck really is on your side. They wouldn't be half as kind if they weren't aware of where you were.

They knew where you were. They could just come. Maybe even tomorrow. And even though you knew that would be unreasonable, the fear didn't leave.

You wanted to cry. But it was so cold.

+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

It was early than usual. Satoru was still sleeping as your eyes opened. Your body was heavy but the feeling of disgust with yourself made you move.

Normally you wouldn't go downstairs, you would hjust read. But you didn't want to be there when he woke up. No that would be unbearable.

So you went into the bathroom again, the crime scene of the night nowhere in sight. The hairpin waiting for you on the counter like it was ready to stab you.

A laugh escaped your lips.

Your mother really couldn't leave you alone, even now she stole herself into your thoughts.

Why were you even here?

Trying to get away from all of these curses in this hotel room, you hurried as you stepped the staircase down. You really needed a light chat with Hina's grandmother.

And some tips against bad sleeping.

+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

Satoru hadn't slept so bad in a long time. He turned and turned but couldn't get any good position. And he was sure that that couldn't be normal.

Normally he had a rhythm in his sleep. Get the minimum that you need and get up. He normally had to work after all.

But now his thoughts just couldn't shut up.

He woke up much later than usual. And he knew something was wrong when his six eyes were tired.

You weren't in the room.

The room was so coldly empty, his thoughts almost were silent. But only for a short time, they began to circle around the thing that was bugging him, even in his dreams.

Your lying.

And he knew he shouldn't, he knew that what he was doing was maybe much much worse than just lying but the letter from your mother was right next to him on the night table.

"Didn't I tell you that already?"

Fuck it. Maybe this was unreasonable, but he had to live with you for the rest of his life. And he hated secrets.

+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

"Oh, Mrs. Gojo you look like you didn't sleep well, is everything alright?" the sweet elderly woman looked concerned as you sat down in front of her.

"Just trouble with sleeping. Do you have any tips?"

Her concern only grew in her eyes. "Well I drink warm milk before sleeping, I can bring you a cup every evening, if you want?"

You smiled at her. "That would be lovely, thank you."

She just nodded, hesitant smiling back. "It's naturally."

She brought you a hot chocolate, while she handled the organization of the guests. Turning the pages in the guestlist she spoke again.

"Were you happy to receive the letters?"

"Oh yeah, my mother is always a surprise." you began to chuckle a bit, but it died down in your sticky throat as you realized what she has just said.

"Oh I can relate! I write Hina always a couple of letters at the same time!" the woman chuckled a bit. "But I thought the two letters were from different people?"

"Oh they were." you tried to keep your composure even though the panic mixed with lots of anger made it really hard for you.

Really Satoru?

Two letters?

Taglist (if you want to be added just say so):

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@tbzzluvr

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@dahliawarner @aliisinwonderland @lov3vivian @inthedarkshadows000

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@oneofthesevensins @teramisuyhin @bloomingwitch @tedbunny333

@berryjuicyy @pretty-bandzz @itspapachulo @mo0sin

[holylulusworld]

Darkness and Sunshine

Summary: Bucky hurts you deeply.

@buckybarnesevents „Hot Bucky Summer 2024”: Week 10 “Shhhhhhhhh…”

Pairing: Mobster!Bucky Barnes x Sunshine!Reader

Warnings: angst, Bucky being a douche, unrequited feelings, BBF trope, unwanted touching (not Bucky), fluff

A/N: The story to this random thot & this poll.

Bucky's POV

She does it again. A quick glance at me, and back to her girly drink. I know she’s interested in being more than my friend’s sister to me, but this can never be.

Just like her drink, she’s too sweet for me.

You know you're bright as the morning, as soft as the rain Pretty as a vine, as sweet as a grape If you can sit in a barrel, maybe I'll wait Until that day I think I'll take my whiskey neat My coffee black and my bed at three You're too sweet for me You're too sweet for me

I’m the whiskey-neat kind of guy. Bitter and dark. Rough and violently. My soul is black, just like the coffee I drink.

She’s the sunshine, but I am the darkness. A beautiful but vulnerable flower like her could never grow in my shadow. She would wither away and die before she got the chance to bloom.

I don’t know when, or how I changed her mind about me. I was only ever the dangerous guy her brother met to get drunk, and punch people. How often she scolded her brother for being friends with me, I don’t know.

But somehow, over the years she changed her mind. Now she looks at me like a lovesick puppy, and I cannot bear it. Not because I do not wish for her to be mine. It’s the opposite. I cannot let her in. If I do, I’d paint a target on her back.

Damnit, she bites her sweet lips while stealing another glance at me. I sigh deeply and sip at my drink. Tonight, I must show her that a goody in two shoes can never be the woman by my side. As much as it pains me, it has to be done.

“Buck, what’s wrong with you?” Her brother asks, clueless as ever. He’s not the smartest when it comes to acknowledging love, or other people’s feelings. “Something wrong?”

It has to be done. I tell myself, repeating the words like a mantra. Steve, my best friend since childhood worriedly looks at her brother. He knows about Y/N’s feelings for me, and that I must extinguish the flame I ignited in her heart.

Sadly, this can only be done by crushing her heart.

“Bucky, maybe there’s another way?” Steve gets up when I do. He wraps his hand around my wrist, stopping me for a second. “You should reconsider your decision. Peggy is sweet too. Just give it a try.”

I think I'll take my whiskey neat My coffee black and my bed at three You're too sweet for me You're too sweet for me

“No—” I harshly free my metal wrist from Steve’s grasp. He means well, I know he does, but I cannot allow Y/N to fall for me even more. I’m a dangerous man, deadly even. I won’t steal her light nor let anyone hurt her even if I have to be the one breaking her heart.

The road to hell is paved with good intentions.

So, I turn away from my friend and his disappointed look. Away from her brother. Away from the future fate held for me to protect what could’ve been mine.

I nod at the girls I hired for tonight, and they immediately take my offered arms. I breathe in and out before walking in Y/N’s direction.

The girls begin to chat, and as I’m about to walk past Y/N I say, "Luckily I found you ladies. All the girls at this place are so plain and boring.” I look directly at Y/N and scrunch my nose up in disgust. “Some are only allowed at my club because their big brother begged me to let them come.”

My heart chatters as a pained wail leaves Y/N’s lips. Her eyes water and her lips tremble. Those soft lips I yearned to kiss for so long. Forsaken to me now.

Still, there’s something in her eyes. A sliver of hope I must kill.

“I can’t believe a wallflower like her believes she can be anything but a pity fuck to me. If it was up to me, I’d make sure she stays away from me,” I hate myself the moment she drops the glass in her hands to run out of my club. I shattered her world and broke her heart.

I watch the door slam shut, telling myself it’s for the best.

Your POV

You run, as fast as you can. It doesn’t matter that your brother drove you to the club, or that you forgot your jacket.

Bucky just confirmed your worst fear. He hates everything about you. From your plain outfit to your character. All the things he said, are true. You’re not like the girls hanging on his arms tonight.

All you had was a glimmer of hope that maybe, he sees more in a woman but a pretty face and good looks.

Your whole world got shattered when he said all those awful things.

You know now that James Buchanan Barnes is just like every other guy.

It’s almost two months later that Bucky sees you again. That day, you glance his way. Your eyes sadden and you immediately walk the other way. The flowers you wanted to buy long forgotten you almost run away from Bucky to not feel the hurting all over again.

His eyes follow you until you’re only a tiny dot in the distance. Bucky shakes his head and sighs deeply. This is not what he intended to do.

He not only lost a good friend that night but hurt you so deeply that you’re scared to even look his way.

“Fuck,” he curses under his breath when Steve steps out of the flower shop. He carries a huge bouquet of roses for Peggy.

“What’s wrong, Buck?” Steve follows his friend’s eyes, frowning. “What happened?”

“She ran away.” He shrugs, shoulders slumping. “I didn’t want her to be scared of me, Steve. Only to make sure she looks for someone better.”

Hiding in your bedroom you ignore your ringing phone once again. You assume it’s your brother, or maybe your friend Tasha trying to get you to go out.

No way you will go out there, facing the world ever again. Bucky embarrassed you in public, in front of your brother and all his friends. You’ll never recover from this.

Rolling to your side you grab your phone from the nightstand to silence it. For today, you will shut yourself out from the world.

Another month later Bucky is fuming. Not because of you, and your presence at his club. No, not at all. Your sweet smile, and the cute sundress you’re wearing make his heart flutter.

The person making his blood boil is your date. John Walker - the man trying to get under Bucky's skin for years. That bastard brought you here for a date. A date at Bucky’s club.

Walker did this on purpose. Bucky is sure about it. He doesn’t know how his concurrent found out that he likes you, but he did. Now you’re sitting at a table with Walker, looking at the untouched drink in your hands.

Vodka. Bucky knows you hate vodka when it’s neat. You like the sweet drinks, the girly drinks he laughs about.

“What’s wrong?” Steve regrets his question the moment John Walker dares to put his hand on your thigh.

You tense, and uncomfortable shift in your seat. Maybe this date wasn’t the best idea. You agreed to go out with John, and even willingly entered Bucky’s club to show the very man that you moved on. (At least you like to tell yourself so.)

“Relax, and smile for me,” John’s voice hardens. This is his chance to get back at Bucky Barnes, and he won’t miss it. “You look like you’re at a funeral. Smile, you’re having the honor to be my date.”

Biting your tongue, you look anywhere but at John. He’s not as nice as you believed he was. Tonight, he showed his true face.

His hand creeps higher and under your dress. You’re about to stop his hand from slipping between your legs when he’s suddenly gone.

John makes a gurgling noise because Bucky dragged him off his chair from behind. He struggles against Bucky’s iron grip. Bucky has his metal arm wrapped around John’s throat, choking your date.

“You don’t touch her ever again,” Bucky growls in John’s ear. “And she doesn’t drink vodka, you piece of shit.”

“Buck—” Steve laughs watching John tug at Bucky’s metal arm. “I see you’ve got it handled.” He holds out his hand for you, murmuring your name. “Come with me, Y/N. This is not for you to see.”

“She’s having a strawberry daiquiri and get her some chicken parmesan. I bet that bastard didn’t order food for her,” Bucky grunts while keeping John in a chokehold.

Your heart flutters. Bucky remembered your favorite drink and food. But wait. He hurt you and broke your heart. Why would he attack your date?

“I should go home,” you slip off the chair and grab your purse. “Never call me again John.” Your voice is barely a whisper, but John gives you an angry look.

“You’ll regret fucking with me, missy.”

“You wish she’d fuck with you, but she won’t,” Bucky slams John’s head onto the table, making you shriek. Steve brings you into his arms and presses your face into his chest.

“Let’s get you to the VIP area, Y/N. You don’t want to see what happens next…”

The moment you follow Steve, Bucky smirks. He leans over John, whispering in his ear.

““Shhhhhhhhh…, don't make a scene, Walker," Bucky snarls. "If you even look her way ever again, I’ll break every bone in your body. And then, I’ll put you back together only to break them again.”

“Why am I here?” You nervously glance at Bucky. He sits next to you, pointing at the food Steve got for you. “I should head home.”

“Doll.” You whimper at the pet name. “I’m sorry…for tonight and the other night,” he grabs your hand, holding it tightly. “I tried to protect you from myself. You’re too sweet for me. A ray of sunshine and I’m…”

“A big grump,” you giggle. “I know you���re a grump.”

Bucky chuckles. You still don’t understand that he’s not a good man. He killed people, and his profession is far from legal. “Doll, you don’t understand. I got a gun and…”

Your eyes drop to his crotch. Bucky’s eyes widen when you lean closer to get a better look at his lap. “Why do you call your cock a gun?”

He laughs. Bucky wholeheartedly laughs for the first time in years.

“What I tried to tell you is that I’m a criminal with a gun. You’re a sweet girl, and too good for me. I wanted to keep you away from me, and said all those things.”

“So, you hurt me to make me leave?” You sniffle. “Why? If you don’t even like me.”

“I like you too much, doll,” he whispers in your ear, hot breath fanning over your skin. “That’s the problem.”

“You’re an idiot.”

Bucky laughs. Not even the toughest criminals dared to call James Buchanan Barnes an idiot. “You’ve got balls, Y/N. No one ever called me an idiot.”

“You deserve that much,” you pull away and cross your arms over your chest. “What kind of man does things like that? How could you do this to me? I didn’t leave my place for weeks, hiding in my bedroom.”

“I wanted to keep you safe, only for you to walk right into John Walker’s trap.” He huffs. “I guess to keep you safe, I must keep you around from now on…”

Part 2

Tags in reblog.

[fbfh]

I just read your rodrick heffley x reader hcs/drabbles and I NEED MORE OF YOUR SHORT!READER X RODRICK.

roddy has graduated from exclusively calling you shorty and shawty to calling you his backpack. he figured out you can carry stuff in your bra or non skin tight jeans or whatever and now insists on having you carry his stuff in exchange for piggy backs. it made you giggle like an idiot for a while, but then you started to grow really fond of it. no more barely being able to hear each other in crowds, no more getting fucking scoliosis from trying to kiss each other. now you're right there, chin on his shoulder talking and kissing him all day long. his big buff tatted (don't tell susan) drummer's arms can carry you like it's nothing, no matter how insecure you get about it. even if you get insecure he will literally start pick you up and flipping you like a swing dancer at a wedding so much that it makes your husband unable to recognize a pig in a nixon mask. (0:57)

you and roddy generally have such an april and andy vibe that if you do pull a sweater swap 1:27 his stretched out old loded diper shirt practically comes down to your knees and and your shirt barely coveres his nipples (which are also pierced. seriously don't tell susan.) he thinks you always look so pretty because he always sees you from that high up angle that makes you look all cute and adorable. he loves just pulling you into his lap and burying his face in your hair that's always so soft and smells like your shampoo and conditioner and on occasion that grape hair dye smell. roddy will always be the first to call out those "omg I'm so tiny and short and little!!!!" pick me girls. he takes so much pleasure in being like hmmm.... nah. they try to flirt with him, they put their hands against his and he sees through that shit in a second. he pushes the heel of their hand so it's actually level with his and chuckles.

"my shawty's fingers barely come up to here..." he laughs. I stand firm in my statement that he will place his hand on a pick me girl's head and line it up with him and be like "nah, my baby's way shorter and is actually short, I think you're just average height lol"

briefly circling back to the whole backpack thing roddy especially loves it when you wear those big chunky shoes that make you average height because you look cute, you like feeling tall, and he gets to carry you around when your feet get tired. honestly I think roddy just has a thing for super short girls. if he can't see the crown of your head when you're standing next to him he doesn't want it.

[phoenixyfriend]

Ko-fi prompt from IndigoMay:

What would be the economic impact if people could magically grow whatever food they liked? Including fodder for animals.

This is a very wide-ranging question, like... when was the magic introduced? What was the state of agriculture before that? Is this food generated from existing matter, delivered by gods, or something else?

I'm going to narrow this to:

What would happen if people could, starting tomorrow, grow any plant...

That is edible, by either humans or livestock, with appropriate treatment.

Without delay, meaning that the time sink is several minutes instead of weeks or months.

Without concerns for weather or other natural dangers like fungal infections or pests, or requirements for water or fertilizer.

Without depleting soil nutrients, so long as they have arable land to work with.

Without relying on fresh seeds or other 'raw ingredients' like leaf cuttings.

Well... let's start small.

Personal Basis - people who are not farmers

People who do not normally grow things would start angling to acquire some kind basic gardening implements. For some, like those who live in the suburbs, this would be as simple as going into the backyard. For those in cities, they'd need to get a window box or similar to use. If you have free, guaranteed fresh plant matter, that's already a good thing, but the time and care required to keep a garden alive is more than some people can manage due to work or children or housing. With immediate food that requires minimal effort, a lot of those hurdles are removed. You can grow the two tomatoes you need for dinner, and then put the pot of soil away for tomorrow.

The cost of

Personal Basis - small farmers

The obvious impacts for those who are small farmers is that people are less likely to buy their raw ingredients. Most of these small farmers would start looking into modifying their operations to do things that require processing.

Growing apples in your house for a snack is fine--if you have a pot big enough for a small tree, and a way to dispose of the wood if it's a one-time thing--but if you want applesauce or cider or pie, someone who knows how to cook or bake needs to do that part. You can grow wheat, but your chances of having the necessary tools to grind flour are slim. You can grow cashews, but fuck knows how you're going to process that without poisoning yourself! You can grow grapes on your trellis, but that doesn't mean you have the knowledge to make wine without accidentally going straight to vinegar. You can grow corn, but that doesn't mean you know the best way to dry it to make popcorn.

So small farms shift to those products that either need processing, or are part of an animal-based food. This includes things like flowers for bees. You can't really control bees, so just 'grow and go' might incite the bees to leave somehow. Maybe they can sense magic! Who knows!

Another option would be to focus on unique or heirloom things. If you go to a farmer's market, you might be going just to see all the fruits you've never encountered before. If there's an apple stand one year, and suddenly you can grow your own apples at home, then maybe what they start doing is growing unique or rare cultivars that you've never heard of, and that's their new niche. It's not that you can't grow the apples, but would you grow them if you've never heard of them? Plus, the apple stand is doing sauces and ciders now.

Mid-tier and large farms

These farms will start to focus in on large-scale crops that don't go straight to tables or cooking pots in homes. Scrap the eggplants, the cucumbers, the blueberries. Focus on:

Fruits and vegetables that are needed for popular secondary products, like tomatoes (ketchup, marinara), or oranges (juice), or corn (anything with fructose corn syrups, popcorn).

Plants that are popular but NEED processing to be edible, like coffee beans, cocoa beans, or wheat, that most people just don't have.

Plants that are needed in massive quantities for animal feed, such as alfalfa or chicken grains.

Now, I think these large farms would still be in production. We'd see a massive reduction in water usage, which is great (except for cranberries, I guess), but many of these products would still be needed in quantities that need industrial levels of processing. Someone needs to pick the oranges, to drive them to the juicing facility, the facility needs to juice and treat and preserve and bottle them, and then that needs to be driven to the store. The reduced time to grow, reduced water usage, reduced waste from natural predators or dangers, and general ability to plan things more efficiently would result in lower costs for many of these products in a truly free market... but would possibly also rise in cost as companies try to maintain a consistent flow of profit.

Sure you can make the juice at home, but what if you're already at work? There's still a demand for products; most of us can get water from a tap at home, but there are still convenience stores selling bottled water on every other corner in a big city.

I think the most interesting of these concerns would be grazing animals, like sheep, cattle, and goats. Being able to 'refresh' the grass of a single field without having to rotate the animals to new pastures once they've eaten away at one, and without damaging the nutrient profiles of the one they're staying at, means reduced deforestation or soil destabilization in agricultural areas. We'd see a fairly significant stalling of things like the decimation of Mongolia's grasslands if the goats didn't need as much grazing land.

Maintaining the meat industry would be one of the most constant sources of demand for large-scale agriculture, given that other products could go through cycles to more efficiently use land. You can grow and harvest oranges for Tropicana on Monday, grapes for Welch's on Tuesday, soy beans for Silk on Wednesday, tomatoes for Heinz on Thursday, and so on. They probably won't need more than they used to.

Meanwhile, the cows gotta eat. And eat. And eat.

Corporations

This one is fun! MONSANTO'S GONNA BE PISSED.

So, magically growing food, you don't need seeds, at least in this case. Or you can coax more product out of a seed you already have planted. You've gotten eight cycles corn out of this one stalk this season!

So Monsanto loses some of that insane seed monopoly situation.

You'd see a decrease in pesticides and anti-fungal products as agriculture speeds up a cycle by enough to prevent the spread of dangerous infestations. It's not going to kill your entire farm if you find fungus one day and have to burn it to prevent the spread. You lost one day's profit, not a full year's.

This impacts Monsanto too. Remember the Roundup debacle?

Now, to be clear, there are still plants that will rely on pesticides and anti-fungals. The premise only covers food, after all, so there are still important plants that will need longer, dedicated growing seasons.

Industry-wide shifts

Sooooooooooo a lot of the money starts to come from non-edible plants. This is your cottons, linens, hemps, latex/rubber trees, cork trees, lumber, and so on.

As the needed arable land necessary to feed humanity (and our livestock) decreases, more land is freed up for return to indigenous peoples, reclamation by nature, usage for alternate cultivation, housing, or... well, other capitalist ventures, like bitcoin mining or whatever.

On a geopolitical level, this causes some interesting shifts in places that draw their power from being 'breadbasket' nations. For instance, if you remember the start of the Russo-Ukrainian war, we saw some major pressures being placed by virtue of some countries (e.g. Lebanon, Pakistan) getting most of their wheat from Ukraine, and the war suddenly cutting off a massive portion of how they fed their people. Much of Ukraine's support, in those early days, derived from their importance as a breadbasket nation. If everyone can grown their own food, that moves the lines. Countries that are poor on space or water can stop relying on trade to survive in terms of water. Countries that rely on their agriculture to be able to trade for other things need to diversify their economies, and fast.

(Does mean that Saudi Arabia can stop using Arizona's water, though.)

The greatest shifts would come down to water usage and pollution, I think. Agriculture is currently one of the biggest contributors to the climate crisis, and the reduction of water use by farming would be a massive help. However, I'm less sure of how we'd see meat consumption change. The greater availability of fresh fruits and vegetables could result in a shift towards more plant-based diets worldwide, but just as easily we could see large agricultural corporations (and those that rely on them, like John Deere or the aforementioned Monsanto) market meat to consumers as a greater rate due to the profit margin.

Oh, also, I have a feeling that a lot of those corporations would try to get garden centers shut down, or buy out ceramic pot and planter factories. If you can't grow anything at home because you don't have a window planter, you have to buy from the store, right?

[aliaology]

NOW THAT WE DONT TALK

summary: jack realizes yns music is quite literally a call out, directed towards him, and his brothers egg it on. pt.3

series masterlist

“i called my mom, she said ‘that it was for the best!’ remind myself the more i gave, you’d want me less”

jack could’ve hit his head against the counter ten more times and the song would still be ringing through his ears like a splinter that wouldn’t come out of his hand.

quinns hand made contact with the back of jacks head. “knock it off, jack.”

jack groaned, shoving his head into his arms. he groaned again, this time the noise being muffled due to the his arm. “she wrote a song about me, quinn.”

quinn rolled his eyes. “you don’t know its about you” he told.

jack scoffed, head shooting up. “she literally called me out. the parties, that stupid red sea reference, even the chorus. its so obviously me. and then her newer single that dropped thirty minutes ago?’

quinn shrugged, “could be about trevor”

jack rolled his eyes, “no way in hell, quinn. they never hooked up and her newer one is about some guy hooking up with her later on—“

“you sound obsessed, jack.” quinn told. jack looked down, embarrassed.

“whats jack obsessed with?” trevor asked, walking inside the kitchen. he stole a grape from jack and popped it into his mouth.

“y/n’s song” quinn spoke.

trevor scoffed, “why are you so hung up on it? its just music.” trevor shrugged.

“hes upset because hes getting called out.”

jack groaned again, head hitting the counter.

quinn rolled his eyes again. “you’ve gotta stop doing that dude. listen— she probably made these ages ago and just now got to releasing them.”

trevor popped another grape in his mouth. “not too sure about that, but i know she started writing them when you two broke up.”

luke slowly walks in. “seriously? you guys are torturing the man talking about his ex.”

jack nods, signifying lukes words to be true.. luke goes into the cupboard to grab a plate. “just ignore it.” he shrugged.

trevor snorted. jack sent the boy a glare, causing his laughter to abruptly stop. “how can i just ignore it? shes getting big and her music is everywhere already.” he asked.

quinn gave him a look. “then face it, jack. you can’t keep putting yourself in denial for something you caused.”

jack let out an exasperated groan for the 100th time. “gee, thanks quinn. way to make me feel better.”

“dont start giving him shit, jack.” luke spoke.

jack rolled his eyes. “whatever, im going to my room.” he got up and went for the stairs.

all three boys looked around at each other. silence fell through the room. suddenly, the sliding door opens. “whats going on?” cole asked.

“quinn picked his side of the argument.” trevor spoke, slightly glaring at quinn.

quinn gave one back, “dont act innocent, trevor. you screwed her over too. you and jack need to own up to it and stop cowering like little kids. you are both in your twenties for fucks sake. grow up.”

quinn went off to his room, leaving a wide eyed group of boys behind.

jacks brows furrowed as he listened to the song in his earbuds. his girlfriend napped next to him as he sat up on the bed. he hates to admit it, but he kinda deserved this.

“lets fast forward to three hundred awkward blind dates later. if shes got blue eyes, i will surmise that you’ll probably date her. you dream of my mouth before it called you a lying traitor, you search in every model—“

he stopped the song, taking his earbuds out and tossing them to the floor. he cheated, and now was dating the girl he cheated with. it was sad, really.

fiona, she was a woman who loved money. jack, was a man who loved attention. maybe that’s why they were together. but she wasn’t horrible like people said, right?

quietly, he went to tik tok and made a fake account, that way she knew he didn’t stalk her profile. i mean— she has no idea he even uses it still.

jack searched fionas name up, ultimately clicking on her profile. she had one video up. he clicked on it.

ick ick ick ick

she was lip syncing that really terrible audio that went ‘he chose me, he dont want you. he chose me’ and honestly, jack was appalled.

but before he could open the comments, she started to wake up. he swiped out of the app and deleted it, tossing his phone to the side afterwards.

“hey baby.” he smiled.

now that we dont talk!

tags! @honethatty12 (if u want tags, just ask <3)

[munson-blurbs]

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

Day 6 of TUI-Mas

Warnings: pregnancy, lots of fluff, Harris and Wayne making us all cry

WC: 1.3k

Divider credit to @saradika

June 1999

“Harris! Lunchtime!” you call out from the kitchen, balancing three plates in your hands, crunchy peanut butter and grape jelly slathered between WonderBread slices atop each one. A gourmet meal, Grandma would have teased, but she wouldn’t deny the simple deliciousness of a PB&J sandwich. 

Eddie saunters in first, taking two of the plates from you and placing them on the dining room table. “Need me to grab anything else?” he asks, watching as you suck peanut butter residue off your thumb. “Like, maybe your boobs?” He grins, crossing his arms over his chest against a faded Corroded Coffin t-shirt. 

You playfully roll your eyes, setting the last plate at your spot. “Could you slice up an apple for Harris? I’ll pour us some lemonade and then get his gift from our room.”

“Puttin’ me to work on Father’s Day weekend,” he grumbles, but the smirk curling his plush lips betrays him. He grabs a Red Delicious from the refrigerator and cuts it into eighths, careful not to nick his ringed fingers. 

You pluck the gift bag from its hiding spot underneath your bed, re-fluffing the yellow tissue paper as though Harris will notice that it’s askew. 

Eddie’s tongue swipes at the apple’s juices on his fingers and calls for your son once more. “Harris! If you don’t get your behind in here now, you won’t get your surprise!”

The TV clicks off instantly. “My surprise?” He races into the kitchen, stopping short and skidding in his socks to avoid colliding with the counter’s edge. “Where’s my surprise?”

“You can open it while you eat lunch,” you reason, swinging the bag between your pinched thumb and forefinger. Harris plops in his seat, takes an enormous bite of his sandwich, and holds out his hand for the present. You relent with a laugh, nerves buzzing as he tears into it. 

Harris is momentarily confused when he pulls out a book, studying the cover intently. “The Berenstain Bears New Baby?” he asks quizzically, looking between you and Eddie for a clue. 

“Why do you think we’d buy you a book about a new baby?” Eddie teases, trying to lead him to the answer. 

You both watch as the proverbial gears turn in the boy’s head, his eyes widening when it clicks. “Am I getting a baby?” A squeal builds up in his throat, the excitement palpable. 

“Mhm. In about five months, you, Harris Munson,” you tell him, poking his chest with your pointer finger, “are going to be a big brother.”

“Mommy’s growing the baby in her belly right now,” Eddie elaborates, beaming as the words resonate with him once again. 

Harris leaps from his chair, bumping into the table and nearly toppling his glass of lemonade in the process, but he hardly notices. “We’re having a baby! We’re having a baby!” He cheers, waving the book high in the air. A slip of paper falls out, floating down to his feet. 

“That’s my latest ultrasound. It shows what the baby looks like and how he or she is growing,” you explain as he picks it up from the floor. 

He squints at it to make heads or tails of the grainy photos. “When do we know if it’s a boy or a girl?”

“At my next appointment in about five weeks.”

He hums in acknowledgment, still focused on the sonogram. “It kinda just looks like a blob,” he says cautiously, as though breaking the news that the fetus in your womb is a gelatinous creature. 

Eddie chuckles, kissing Harris’s wild curls. “Yeah, but it’ll look more like a baby soon, I promise.”

Harris exhales a relieved sigh, launching himself into your arms with a barrage of questions. 

“What are we gonna name it?”

“Is it gonna sleep in my room?”

“Do I have to change its diapers?”

“Are you sure it’s gonna look like a baby?”

It’s your turn to laugh and ruffle his hair. “Slow down there, Har. We can talk about all of that stuff later. Right now,” you lower your voice but keep all of the exuberance, “we need you to do us a super special favor.”

“A super special favor?” His face lights up and he leans in to ensure he hears you correctly. 

“Yup. Grampa Wayne still doesn’t know about the baby, and we were hoping you could make a Father’s Day card that helps us tell him.” You watch as he unlatches himself from around you and scampers off to find his art kit. “That was easy enough,” you say to your husband, who affirms this with a smile-laced kiss. 

Eddie shrugs, wrapping his arms around your waist. “To be honest, I was expecting him to be even—”

“I’M GONNA BE A BIG BROTHER!” Harris’s ecstatic shriek interrupts him, compounded with the pounding of his feet as he jumps up and down. 

“There it is.”

You all pile into the car the following afternoon to celebrate Father’s Day at Wayne’s trailer. Harris buckles himself into his booster seat, the homemade card clutched securely in his hand. Eddie rolls down the window, turning the crank until it’s halfway cracked, letting the warm June breeze tickle his face.

From the backseat, Harris whines, “Dad, be careful! I don’t want Grampa’s card to fly out the window.”

“Don’t worry; we’re not going fast. Just taking the backroads.”

He seems to be content with this promise, but you notice his grip tighten just a bit.

Wayne waits for your arrival, stubbing out his cigarette on the trailer steps as soon as he sees you pull in. His naturally stoic expression dissipates into a wide grin and he pushes himself to his feet, tugging on Harris’s door handle as soon as Eddie throws the car in park.

“Happy Father’s Day, Grampa!” Harris shouts, flinging his arms around him. Wayne reciprocates eagerly, holding his grandson in a loving embrace. “Look at your card!”

Eddie laughs, shaking his head in amusement as he stretches his legs out of the car. “Real subtle, Har.”

Wayne takes the piece of construction paper from Harris, retrieving his reading glasses from where they’re hanging out of his breast pocket and sliding them up the bridge of his nose. “Let me see here,” he muses, scanning the drawing in front of him. “A family portrait, huh? This is gonna go right on the fridge.” He starts back towards the front door, but Harris stops him.

“No, Grampa, look!” Harris impatiently points to where he’s drawn your prominently rounded abdomen, much more obvious than your actual burgeoning bump. “That’s Mommy.”

Wayne’s eyebrows raise, glancing between you and Eddie for confirmation before he says anything further. 

“You’re gonna be a grandpa again, Old Man,” Eddie tells him, resting his hand on your stomach and rubbing it gently. “There’ll be another little mischief maker joining us in November.”

“You’re serious?” Wayne’s eyes mist over, visible even behind the lenses. When you nod, rife with emotion, he ambles over for a hug. “Oh, my word. Nearly got me blubberin’ over here.” He pulls back only to rest his glasses atop his head, wiping his tears with his shirt sleeve.

Harris tugs on his grandfather’s free hand. “Dad said you’re gonna change all the poopy diapers.” He giggles, exposing the gap where a tooth is newly missing after weeks of being wiggly.

“Is that so?” Wayne chuckles, looking directly at Eddie before bringing his attention back to Harris. “Well, I’ll tell ya what: I’ll change the baby’s diapers if Dad changes mine once I’m real old.”

Eddie tries to protest, but you cut him off. “Sounds like a good deal to me.”

“Nope, no way” your husband argues, waving his arms in disgust, “I’m throwing you in a home the moment you can’t wipe your own–”

“Eddie!” you admonish before he can utter another word.

“I was gonna say ‘tush.’”

--

[kismetarchive]

Happy new years! I had the idea of reader doing the tradition of eating 12 grapes on new year day and miraculously meeting their dream man a week later (König)

cw: König x gn!Reader

Despite the hurdles, challenges, and unfortunate breakups the past year had brought upon you — you still made it. You made it to the end of the year and now you're with your friends, all of you laughing and giggling while holding bowls of grapes under their rickety old dining table.

"This year I'm finding the man of my dreams. Tall, Kind—"

"The countdown is starting!" One of your friends suddenly interrupted, everyone looking at the TV screen as the countdown ensued.

All your voices muddled together as you counted along with the crowd shown on TV, smiling and shouting in enthusiasm when the clock ticked midnight and it was officially the new year.

Everyone hurriedly ate their 12 grapes, forced gurgles and swallows filling the room with uncomfortably gross sounds.

Thankfully you finished them all under a minute, gulping one last time before sighing in relief.

You crawled out from under the table, grabbing a glass of water to down after shoveling grapes down your throat.

Your heart thrummed at the idea of meeting your dream man soon, hoping that the 12 grapes would work in your favor.

They definitely did — just a lot quicker than you expected.

Unexpected as well.

A week later your workplace was getting robbed by some amateur, their hands shaking as they fumbled with a knife and were yelling out demands for all the money in the cash register.

You would think the scene was pathetic if you weren't at the other end of the knife. You tried your best to remain calm, assuring the robber you wouldn't call the cops as your hands meticulously bagged the money away, only for a man — a really big man — suddenly grab the guy and shove him onto the ground.

Honestly you weren't paying attention to the guy crying in pain or the sound of knuckles against skin from the punches the guy was swinging at the robber, your head foggy as you were actively dissociating from the chaotic scene.

"Miss," A gruff voice spoke to you, an Austrian accent present as he held the bloodied and bruised man by the scruff of his neck.

"Ah— sorry, let me call the police and- and thank you!" You stuttered out, your hands jittery as you fumbled out your phone and called the cops.

You sighed as you saw the robber get dragged away, your manager talking with the cops, and strangely the man lingering next to you.

"Are you okay?" He asked, his posture slightly hunched to meet your dazed gaze.

"Yeah, just— kinda still in shock," You mutter under your breath, a shaky exhale leaving your lips, a breath you weren't even aware you were holding the entire time.

"Do you like coffee?" The man questioned, his gaze firm and steady on your trembling figure.

You raise your head, eyebrows knitted together from the sudden question as you looked at the man's face first for the time.

He was wearing a black surgical mask and had a black hoodie to further hide his face, but you saw his serene blue eyes — heavy yet gentle as they gazed back down with you.

"Why are you asking?" The question finally leaves your lips after a beat of silence, your cheeks growing warm at how he kept looking at you with such fondness. It was so strange how he looked at you — so loving and patient even though he had just tussled with an armed man.

"I know a place not far from here. Let me take you,"

You nodded before your brain even registered what you agreed to, but you didn't mind. He saved you from a robber, getting coffee with the buff man seems reasonable as a sort of repayment.

It was barely even February when by some miracle you two began a relationship and he was exactly everything you wished for in a man. Exactly what you wished for on new years when you were munching on grapes under a wooden table with all your friends and fireworks erupting outside.

「 Masterlist ❤︎ 」

[okay-j-hannah]

Part 2: A Lacrosse Boyfriend

Teen Wolf : Multishot

Stiles Stilinski x Reader

Word Count: 11.4k

Warnings: series rewrite, start of season 1 {aka 2011}, slow burn, friends to lovers, eventual pining, eventual NSFW, usual teen wolf levels of violence and gore, heart conditions, health problems, lightheadedness, fainting

Request: This just came from my own head 😊  

Part 1: Her Broken Heart

Part 2: A Lacrosse Boyfriend {You Are Here}

Part 3: Blue Handprints

The summer heat had finally decided to die down to a reasonable temperature. It was the only reason your mother decided a picnic at the park would be nice. It was equal parts safe for you and enough of a distraction that you could pretend you were a normal kid.

At just four years old you were starting to notice how you didn’t live like the children you saw outside your window. You had started to grow bored of your usual antics stuck at home.

You lay on your stomach near the edge of your blanket. Along the blades of green grass you spotted a ladybug climbing towards the sky. You were practicing counting the spots on its back when the beat in your chest became noticeable.

The pressure from laying on your tummy made it easier to feel your heartbeat unevenly.

“Do you want another grape, sweetie?” your mom asked, stretched out and enjoying the shade.

You reached out a smaller, pudgier hand, accepting the grape with a hungry toddler’s mouth. Your eyes looked above the ladybug grass and stared at the playground, complete with twisting slides and a rubber rock wall.

“Mom,” you say in your timid tone. “I want to play.”

“I know, honey,” she says, “But you know how that’s not safe for your heart.”

A pout grew instantly, “I am careful!”

Sensing your coming tantrum, your mother drew your attention away from the other children playing with a lacrosse ball in the nearby field.

“Yes, you are very good at being careful. But remember your heart sometimes has a mind of it’s own. Sometimes being careful isn’t enough. The doctor said not to be too crazy.”

You ball your little fists but hold back the angry words. “I don’t like my heart.”

Your mother cooed, reaching for you, “No, sweetie, you have a wonderful heart. It’s big and warm and full of love for far too many things. It tries its best to take care of you. So we need to try our best to take care of it, okay?”

You snuggle into your mother’s arms, upset feelings turning into tears, “Okay, mommy.” You feel a kiss on your head when the children playing in the field came running past your blanket.

They stopped on the other side of your shaded spot and conversed behind dirt smudged hands. They were both rowdy boys with scabbed knees and grass stained shirts, but they had wide smiles as one approached you.

He had unruly hair and sunburnt cheeks.

“Hello,” he said in a nervous voice, “What’s your name?”

You rub at your eyes, “(Y/N).” You sink further into your mom.

The boy was out of breath and already itching to run again judging by his fidgeting. He said quickly, “Hi my name is Stiles. Do you want to come play with us? We were playing sharks and minnows, but it’s not so fun with only two people.”

You look up at your mother’s chin and ask quietly, “Can I go play?”

Your mother sighs, tickling your sides, “If you don’t run around so much and stay on the playground…”

You were instantly crawling out of her lap, “Okay!”

“And if you start getting out of breath you need to tell me!” your mom continues, “Be careful climbing the ladders and don’t you dare stand on the slide!”

“Bye!” you yell in reply, already jogging away with Stiles to meet with his other friend.

He touched your shoulder, “Do you like chasing bad guys?”

“I’m not supposed to chase,” you say seriously, “But I do like to catch bad guys.”

Stiles nodded his head in deep thought, “Okay. How about we make traps for bad guys under the slides.”

You agree enthusiastically, grateful at your young age for someone who didn’t know about your heart. Grateful that they played with you like any other child.

And you schemed underneath the slides, building traps out of woodchips and leafy twigs. Innocent kids that didn’t know any better. Didn’t know that you wouldn’t remember this first meeting.

~~~

“I’ve started TAing.”

Allison gives you a strange look, “What?”

“I’m a teacher’s assistant now,” you lead the way into the school, “I have a free period since I finished a core class during my homeschooling.”

“Who will you TA for?”

You hold back a grimace, “Coach Finstock.”

Allison snorts, “You know I’m pretty sure he doesn’t know what’s going on half the time. He forgets which periods he’s teaching economics and which periods he needs to be in the gym for P.E..”

“All the more reason why he needs a TA to sort things out,” you say, straight-backed. “And it means I can help out at lacrosse games too.”

“What, like a waterboy?”

You bump into Allison’s side, “No… well maybe. Just helping out with supplies and plays and locker room stuff.”

“Locker room stuff,” Allison says with raised eyebrows.

You choke on a laugh, “Don’t start. I reserve the right to ban you from the locker rooms. Especially seeing as that’s become your new make out spot.”

That caught her off guard, ramming right into the person in front of her. With a squeal she drops everything in her arms and put her hands into her hair. It was Scott who turns around after the collision.

“You scared the hell out of me,” Allison laughs, joining you as you help pick up her things.

Scott looks terrifyingly relieved, “You’re okay.”

“Once my heart starts beating again, yeah.” You smile ruefully at that statement. “What?”

“I’m just happy to see you.”

You thought Scott looks more like seeing Allison walking and talking was a miracle. Like he couldn’t believe that she was alive. You hand Allison her pencil case and folders, watching their goodbye with skepticism.

“What was that?” you whisper as Allison walks away to first period.

Scott was still breathing shallow, “She’s okay.”

You snap your fingers in front of his dazed eyes. “Are you okay?”

The speakers suddenly turn on with a crackle of fuzzy interference. “Attention, students, this is your principal. I know you’re all wondering about the incident that occurred last night to one of our buses. While the police work to determine what happened, classes will proceed as scheduled. Thank you.” With another crackle of microphone feedback the principal’s voice was gone.

You return your eyes to Scott and furrow your brow.

He took in your confusion and whispers, “I had a dream last night where Allison and I snuck into the buses behind the school.”

“Oh?” you say, still skeptical but now with a smile on your face.

“And I sort of had… an outburst.” He seems to struggle with finding the right words. “I killed Allison and broke through the back of the bus.”

“Well, shit that sucks Scott,” you fold your arms, “But I don’t think you’re capable of all that.”

He grimaces, “No, when we showed up to school and saw the bus out back – and how it looked just like it did in my dream – I thought maybe I had actually killed Allison somehow.”

You reign in your teasing smiles and bump into his shoulder, “Scott, like I said, I don’t think there’s a mean bone in your body. There’s no way you could kill someone and tear up a bus.” He still slumps as he follows you to first period. “I can understand why that would still be scary regardless.”

It was his turn to bump into your shoulder, but with more force, causing you to trip into a row of lockers. “God! I’m sorry, (Y/N),” he pulls you closer by the hand.

You laugh, ignoring the jump of your heart. “It’s okay, let’s just get to chemistry.”

Stiles was already sitting down, bouncing his leg against the table stool. He looks at Scott as if asking if everything was okay. Scott gave him a reassuring nod as he took a seat at the table in front of him.

You smile at them as you took the remaining empty seat at a back table. You immediately start copying the diagram drawn on the blackboard, taking out your science project notes for inspiration.

You could hear the frantic voices of Scott and Stiles near the front, and a needle of hurt stuck in your chest as you remember the secret that Stiles wasn’t ready to tell you. You had to remind yourself that the friendship was still relatively new.

There was still a secret you hadn’t told them either.

“Mr. Stilinski, if that’s your idea of a hushed whisper you might want to pull the headphones out every once in a while,” Mr. Harris says from the blackboard. “I think you and Mr. McCall would benefit from a little distance, yes?”

Stiles begrudgingly moves his stuff to the back but stops when he spots the empty seat next to you.

“Hey, trouble,” you say quietly.

He sat clumsily, “How was the rest of your weekend?”

“It was fine. Just a lot of reading.” You finish copying the blackboard notes.

Stiles leans on his elbow, “Still reading that werewolf book?”

“You mean Harry Potter,” you snicker, “Yeah I’m on the fourth one now.” Turning your head you could see Stiles staring at you, “What?”

He swallows hard, awkwardly straightening himself, “Nothing just… I like that coconutty-strawberry smell.”

Warmth came up your chest, “That would be my shampoo.”

“Then thank god for personal hygiene.” He grimaces and smacks the back of his head.

You ignore it, pulling your notebook closer. You could still feel his eyes on you as a classmate jumps to the window, “Hey, I think they found something!”

Everyone ran for the wall of windows. You stood quickly from your stool too when a fuzzy feeling flickers on in your head. You grip the table, closing your eyes and frowning.

No one notices as you compose yourself, waiting for the fainting feeling to go away. You wander closer to the group of kids terrified at what they were seeing. A tingling was making its way down your legs – the blood rushing to your toes.

You felt uncomfortably warm when a cool hand touches your shoulder, “(Y/N)?”

Stiles was at your side, unsure of what was happening. “You look ashy. Are you lightheaded again?”

The breath leaving your lungs was shallow and rapid, cotton was building pressure in your ears. “I’m going to faint, Stiles.”

“Mr. Harris!” Stiles yells, “(Y/N) needs to get to the nurses office!”

Not that the student body would know, but every teacher at the school knew of your health problems. They knew it was a possibility that you would require medical care. Mr. Harris, as cynical and distrustful as he was, let you leave promptly despite his feelings.

“You may leave, Miss. Westbrook.”

“Sir, I don’t think she should be walking alone to…”

Mr. Harris was using his phone as he looks out the window, “Get out of my classroom, Stilinski!”

Stiles keeps a hand on your back and another on your arm, watching your face the whole way. His voice was frantic and small as he talks you through it.

“It’s like I can see the blood draining from your face. Does that happen a lot? I mean, I know you get head rushes a lot, but the fainting thing? Do you just have bad blood circulation? Was it something I said? Look I know I’ve mentioned how good you smell twice now and while it is true I acknowledge that it’s a little creepy of me to be sniffing your hair so much. I probably shouldn’t have admitted that. Not gonna lie it’s kinda freaking me out that you’re not saying anything.”

You struggle to breathe, “It’s sort of hard when you don’t give me time to answer.”

The shallowness of your breathy words put a strange feeling in Stiles’ chest, “Do you need me to do something else? Does the nurse… what the hell is that?”

Your watch was suddenly beeping with an alarm. Your heart rate was far too high and had stayed that high for more than thirty seconds. A pain enters your chest, and your walking slows.

Stiles starts panicking, “What does that mean? (Y/N), what’s happening?” He yells down the hallway towards the office, “Hey! We need help over here!”

It was hard to keep your eyes open as you start to slump, “Stiles…” you mumble. And you lost consciousness, falling into Stiles and in return he fell to the ground to catch your body.

He held your back and shoulders, using his free hand to brush the hair from your face. Your skin was still gray-tinged. An office lady and the school nurse came rushing down the hallway. Their heavy footfalls matching the hard beating of your heart.

Stiles was finally at a loss for words, holding you like you had just died. “(Y/N)?! Oh my god, I think she just fainted,” he says to the incoming help, “I hope she just fainted.”

The nurse asks Stiles to help drag you to the sickbed. He complies, frantically asking questions until the nurse ordered him to stop.

“Alice, will you call her mother and I’ll get her doctor on the line,” the nurse says to the office lady. She dials a number and holds it to her ear as she elevates your legs and checks that your airway wasn’t obstructed.

“What did she say to you before she fainted?”

Stiles was still flabbergasted, “She turned gray and said she was lightheaded. She told me she was going to faint.” He ran a hand over his shaved head, “And then her watch started freaking out and she had a pain in her chest.”

“It’s been more than 90 seconds now,” she mumbles to herself, checking your watch monitor to measure your heart rate.

“Wh-What does that mean?” Stiles asks, blinking blearily. “Is she going to be okay?”

The nurse starts talking to a doctor on the phone and Stiles was ushered out by the office lady, forced to watch from a different room. He refuses to leave the office until he sees your eyes open just a few seconds later.

~~~

“By the time I checked with the office at lunch she was sent home,” Stiles vents, one hand on the wheel and the other in his short hair. “She hasn’t answered any of my texts or phone calls.”

Scott was stretched thin between worrying about his possible dreamlike wolf attack and the mystery of his newfound friend. In all honesty he was more worried about how worried his best friend was.

“I talked to Allison about it, she doesn’t know anything either.”

“God, I knew there was something wrong,” Stiles bites the inside of his cheek. “That scar she has… whatever I look up says it has something to do with her heart.”

Scott eyes his friend, unsettled by the palpable worry. “She’ll be okay.”

“You don’t know that.”

“We would have heard something if she wasn’t.”

Stiles grips the steering wheel, “We would have heard something if she was.”

They pull up against the fence to the bus drop off, putting the jeep in park. Stiles rubs at his worn face and Scott leans in with an edge to his voice.

“Listen, let’s just get this Derek theory over with and then we can go check on (Y/N). Sound good?”

Stiles grumbles, slipping out of the jeep with his friend.

“Hey, no, just me,” Scott says, “Someone needs to keep watch.”

“How come I’m always the guy keeping watch?”

Scott pulls on his friend’s arm, “Because there’s only two of us and I happen to have wolf-like reflexes and you’re distracted by your sudden love for (Y/N).”

“I am…” Stiles scoffs, caught off guard. “I am not in love with (Y/N).”

“The eight text messages and four phone calls would say otherwise.”

Stiles juts a finger in the air, “Hey, that is totally untrue.” He put his hands on his hips, “I only made three phone calls.”

“Whatever,” Scott whispers, “I’ll just be in and out.”

“Okay, why’s it starting to feel like you’re Batman and I’m Robin? I don’t want to be Robin all the time.”

Scott was bewildered, “Nobody’s Batman and Robin any of the time.”

“Not even some of the time?”

But true his word, Scott was quick upon entering the bus. Stiles surrenders and sits in the jeep ready to drive with the headlights off. He pulls out his phone and scrolls through his messages to you, concern eating away at his stomach.

It was bad enough that he witnessed you fall ill so quickly and dragged you to the nurses office. But now he was realizing, through some personal investigation and the unhelpful words of Scott, that he had a crush on you.

He liked you.

With all the strange supernatural problems infiltrating his life, it was almost an unexpected surprise to have something so human as a little crush. His stomach flips. But what if there was something more supernatural about you?

Your heart rate was elevated when you fainted. Scott’s heart rate is a tell of an oncoming werewolf transformation.

Is that why you wanted to keep it a secret?

Stiles was sick of his investigative brain, slamming his forehead against the steering wheel. Couldn’t he have normal high school problems like fretting over the girl he liked instead of deducing if she was a shape shifter or not?

Flashlight beams could be seen from the school’s entrance. Stiles lifts his head to see them shining in his eyes, “Oh, shit…” he starts laying on the horn.

~~~

After dropping Scott off, Stiles sat in his jeep contemplating his next move. Staring at the clock on his dashboard he knew it was far too late for your parents to accept company.

But there was still that garden trellis outside your window.

Making his decision, Stiles drove to the end of your street, hopping out and running for your house. It was easier to climb the garden trellis now that he knew where to put his hands and feet through the vines and ladder.

He creeps over the roof tiles and squats outside your window. The lights were off, and he could just make out the human shape lying in bed… he still couldn’t help himself. He taps on the glass until he saw your figure stir.

Ruffled in white pajamas with little blueberries printed on the fabric, you carefully tip toe to the window to let him in.

“Stiles,” you yawn, the moonlight still bright enough to make your eyes squint. “What are you doing here?”

Stiles made a much more graceful entry, afraid to disturb your parents. “I wanted to check on you. You haven’t been answering my messages.”

You sit on the edge of your bed, clearly exhausted. Stiles remains standing – because he wanted to pace or because he was preparing to catch you should you fall, he didn’t know.

“I’m sorry,” you run your fingers through your bedhead. Stiles thought it was cute. “Between the hospital visit and the bedrest I haven’t even looked at my phone. My mom usually keeps it whenever I have a fainting episode. Gives me time to unplug and unwind.”

“But…” Stiles folds his arms, “But you are okay?”

He didn’t like that it took you longer to respond. “Yes, I’m fine. You know I get lightheaded a lot. Fainting is usually a consequence of that.”

“Your watch went off right before you fell,” he says quietly, his eyes dark and serious. “Like some kind of alarm.”

“Yeah,” you look at your watch that you wear even when sleeping. “It measures my heart rate. Whenever it spikes for too long it warns me that I might faint.”

“That’s why you get lightheaded… your heart?” his eyes linger at the collar of your shirt, hoping to see that scar again.

You fold your arms, protective, “When I get worked up it doesn’t beat enough to get oxygen to my brain. Then I get lightheaded and sometimes faint.”

Stiles nods his head and walks over to your bed, “Can I?”

A soft smile quirks your lips, “You may.”

He sits beside you, the mattress sinking down further. “So when we saw the ambulance and the bus driver all mangled like that…”

“It got my heart rate going,” you say easily. Of course you got lightheaded before even seeing the commotion outside the window. You didn’t feel like getting too deep into your diagnosis. This was a good start.

“It was really scary seeing you get sick like that,” Stiles says honestly, looking down at his hands. “Not knowing what was going on made me feel… like I was helpless to make it stop.”

You turn to him, silhouetted by moonlight. His eyelashes were so long that they were casting shadows onto his cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” you say gently, placing a hand on his forearm. It made him look up at you. “I should’ve been more honest with you.”

“Is this where I can ask you my one personal question of the day?” his eyes were warm as his voice held slight sarcasm.

You lean into him, “I suppose.”

“If you start feeling faint or if you do faint, what can I do to help? Just so I’m prepared if it happens again.”

You blow air between your lips, “Oh, it’ll happen again. That’s my curse.” You hum as you think, oblivious to how Stiles was unconsciously smiling at your thinking face. “I generally avoid things that would get my heart rate up.”

Stiles scoffs, having an epiphany, “Like a lacrosse game or an after party.”

“Or a crowded lunchroom,” you smile. “But if it goes up regardless, I usually try to ground myself. Like thinking about what my five senses notice. And I hold onto whoever I’m closest to. Doing that and taking deep breaths can control my heart rate.”

“I know a thing or two about that,” Stiles mumbles, “That’s a technique to control anxiety.”

You nod, “You’re right.”

“And if you faint again?”

“First step is to call for help and the second step is to make sure I’m stable.”

You turn to him, and he looks so sincere that goosebumps erupt on your skin. He was taking your words so seriously. Without interrupting your council he grabs the blanket off your bed and drapes it over your bare arms.

“Lay me down and elevate my feet. Make sure I’m not choking on anything. And then if I’m out for more than 90 seconds or I start seizing, then turn me on my side.”

“Why 90 seconds?” he asks.

You pull the blanket closer around you, “Because after 90 seconds then there might be some brain damage or something else seriously wrong.”

He turns his body towards you more, your thighs fully touching. “The nurse today said that you were out for over 90 seconds.”

“That’s why they sent me to the hospital,” you nod, “But they didn’t find any serious damage. I just can’t have any more fainting episodes like that.”

Stiles swallows hard, tracing the outline of your side profile with his eyes. Brow. Nose. Lips. Chin. “Why?”

“Because the more I have the weaker my body will become. The more damage I’ll get. We don’t want that to happen.”

He licks his lips and plays with his fingers, “Thank you for telling me.” He thought back to the scar on your chest and realized that some things still didn’t add up. Craning his neck to look at you, he asks, “That’s still not everything, is it?”

Your eyebrows slant and you look scared for the first time that night. “No.”

Stiles found himself closer to you than he intended, urgency laced into his next words, “(Y/N), I want to know everything. I want to be able to help.”

A sad smile crept onto your face, “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

You take a shaky breath, “Because then it’ll become too real. I’m not ready to share that reality yet.” You match his urgency as you express, “This is enough for now.”

Stiles suppresses the instant anger that brought up. He hated not knowing things. “Does anyone else know?”

“The school staff and most parents know,” you say, “Yes, even your dad.”

“My dad!”

You shush him, “It’s a small town and my mom works under him.”

“What about Scott and Allison?”

“Not yet,” you sigh, “But I don’t mind if you tell them now. It was stupid of me to keep it to myself when I could faint at any time around you guys.”

He bites his lip, “When will you be back at school?”

“Maybe Wednesday,” you shrug, “Fainting always puts my family in a tizzy. My parents don’t like me leaving the house until they’re sure I can handle the stress again.”

Stiles was sinking further towards you, your arms now touching along with your thighs. “Is that why you were homeschooled?”

“Yes. I finally decided to not let my problems stop me from living my life to the fullest,” you relish in his warmth beside you, the goosebumps going away. “I decided to go to school, to get a job, to do things my parents and doctors said I shouldn’t do. My heart rate will go up the same way if I get jump scared in my own kitchen. I might as well be out doing something enjoyable.”

Stiles sighs and he was close enough you could feel his breath on your cheek. “I like that.” You smile and cuddle further into your blanket. He felt reluctant to leave, but all the same says, “I should go.”

He stands and walks carefully to your window. “You’re going to miss a wicked history test tomorrow and the ‘hang out’ between Scott and Allison.”

“I thought they were going on a date?” you say, crawling back towards your pillow.

“Nope,” Stiles began to slide out your window, “Lydia and Jackson made it a hang out at the bowling alley.”

“Does Scott even bowl?”

He snorts, “Never.”

“That could only end in hilarity,” you grin, “I’ll text Allison about it tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Stiles mutters, “Goodnight, (Y/N).”

“Stiles?”

He slips on the roof tiles, “Yep!”

You smile at his goofy face, “Thank you for helping me today. Not everyone would’ve done what you did.”

“I think anyone would be competent enough to cry for help when…”

“No, you coming to check on me. Asking me for details so you can help more in the future. Not judging me for having a problem. No one else has done that for me.”

Stiles nods awkwardly, gripping your windowsill. “I’ll text you tomorrow.”

~~~

Wednesday evening you were on a mission to convince your parents that you were well enough to go to school tomorrow.

You stood in the kitchen, soft blue silk pajamas on and fuzzy socks keeping your toes warm. A home speaker was playing songs from your favorite playlist, coercing your body to nod and sway with the beats.

“Are you sure you feel alright enough to be alone?” your mother frets, putting a coat on as your dad grabs the car keys.

You hold up your wrist with the watch, “My heart has been steady all day.”

“Yes, but you don’t know if…”

“Mom!” you cry, “It’s Wednesday. Wednesday is date night. You should enjoy your Wednesday date night. I can make myself dinner and watch a movie before bed.”

Your dad nudges your mother towards the door, “Let her have some freedom,” he teases.

Angela smacks his arm, but keeps moving nonetheless, “You better believe I’m getting my own cheesecake tonight.”

Your father, Tom, gave you a wink, “Let’s treat ourselves tonight, sweetheart.”

And for the next ten minutes you were blissful in making yourself some chicken and rice, green beans on the side. Clad in your softest sleepwear and dancing around to your favorite tunes, it was hard to shift the mood when you receive a frantic phone call.

“Hey, Stiles. Sorry I wasn’t at scho…”

“(Y/N), I need your help,” he says quickly.

You turn away from the stove, “Cutting to the chase, alright. I’m listening.”

Stiles trips over his words, “Y-You work at the hospital right? You have a wealth of doctor knowledge? Like you could tell me a few facts about first aide?”

You lean against the counter, the marble cold under your arms. “Yes… Stiles what’s going on?”

“I might, sort of… maybe have a friend who is… very hurt.”

“Very hurt?”

“He has a wound that just keeps sprouting blood and he’s not looking so hot.”

You hum a ‘uh huh’ as you ponder who this friend might be, “Not looking so hot meaning what?”

“You know, just the general sweating, pale skin, heavy breathing.”

“He must be in a lot of pain then.” You could hear a slam on something metal in the background. Stiles must’ve jumped by how his voice rose an octave.

“Lots – lots of pain. Listen, what might we do to help said wound?”

You go to stir your sizzling chicken, “How does it look?”

“Red and gross and all around a major health code violation,” he felt his chest tighten at your slight laugh. “There’s also these purple veiny things creeping up his arm.”

The smile falls from your face, “That would mean he has blood poisoning. Whatever wound he has is infected and if it reaches his heart then it’ll kill him.”

Someone was rummaging through drawers; you could hear pill bottles flying around.

“That’s good, great,” Stiles curses, “What do we need to stop that from happening?”

“Well, you need to stop the infection with some pretty heavy antibiotics,” you rub at your forehead. “And you need to clean the wound to stop more infection from getting in. And you could put a tourniquet on to help stop the bleeding.”

Some heavy whispering was happening behind Stiles’ hand. Something recognizable was in the other man’s voice.

“Stiles,” you say warningly, “Who are you with?”

“Just some guy,” Stiles replies, moving around, “We’re putting a belt around his arm as a tourniquet now. Thanks for your help, (Y/N).”

A cry of pain was heard through the phone and you hiss, “Are you with Derek Hale?”

“What?! No way… not a chance,” he laughs weakly before growing silent. “Yes, I’m with Derek Hale.”

“What the hell, Stiles – I thought you hated that guy.”

A growl was heard behind him, “Listen, I gotta go. Talk to you later?”

“I’ll be here, making dinner and watching old Disney movies.” You wait for a goodbye, but the line went dead. “That was weird.” And it continues to be that way as you finish making the dinner and grab a soda from the fridge.

You sat on the couch, pulling a fluffy forest green blanket on you. It was quiet and serene as you pull up one of your favorite movies: Atlantis: The Lost Empire.

You weren’t even ten minutes in when there was a knock on your door. Slipping on your thick socks, you skid across the hard wood to the door.

Suspicious, you say, “Stiles… how is Derek?”

“He’ll live,” Stiles says, out of breath and wrapping his jacket tightly around him. “He’s having a chat with Scott right now about the Hale family or something.”

“About the house fire?” you ask, “So now that he’s innocent of killing his sister you’re suddenly buddies with him?”

Stiles had an exaggerated look on his face, “Well, not exactly. He’s still a big scary guy that we got thrown into jail for a day. And now the town thinks he’s some murdering recluse because of the evidence we put against him.”

You couldn’t fight the smile creeping onto your face, “So it was just a favor you helping him tonight?”

“Yeah, it was a hunting accident,” he says casually, as if it were the whole truth. “And he didn’t have any friends to turn to.” He dances on his toes, looking up at the porch light, “While I love chatting out in the cold, do you think your parents would be alright if I hang out here and check on you?”

Leaving the door open, you walk inside, “My parents aren’t here. It’s date night.”

“Right,” he says, closing the door and kicking off his shoes, “How are you feeling?”

You sigh, “I feel fine. My mom is just determined to keep me couped up for the rest of my life.” Without prompting you prepare a dinner dish for Stiles and meet him in the living room, “I’ve only been in school a few weeks, but I miss it.”

Stiles eyes the plate of food with wide honey eyes, “Oh my god, that smells amazing.”

“Come on, I’m watching Atlantis.”

The boy was only too eager to follow you onto the couch. He flops down, staring at his plate hungrily. You share the green blanket, throwing it over his lap. He looks at you with big eyes.

“You said it was cold outside,” you shrug, picking up your plate. Your legs were touching again as the pair of you ate.

Stiles was eating the chicken and rice like his life depended on it, “This is the best food I’ve had in years.”

“You must be in love with it,” you snicker, “Judging by the sounds you’re making.” You laugh as he chokes on his fork.

“No, it’s just…” he scratches the back of his neck, “I don’t eat a lot of homecooked food anymore. My dad and I survive on takeout mostly.”

You push the rice around your plate, “Did your mom cook a lot?”

There was a shift in the air as Stiles continues to eat, but he responds with as normal a voice as he could manage. “Yeah. My dad used to say that… that she would bribe him with a good dinner to get him home from the station sometimes.”

Your voice was warm as you say, “She must’ve been an excellent chef if that got the Sheriff away from his caseload.”

“She used to make this delicious homemade mac and cheese, like fancy mac and cheese…” he made silly hand motions in the air, “Like with the little chopped up green things on top.”

“Parsley?”

He shrugs, but his eyes grew wide and bright, “And she’d serve it on top of a piece of garlic bread with some Italian sausage on the side.” He makes an overexaggerated chef kiss. “It was a masterpiece.”

“Sounds amazing,” you lean back into the couch, leaving your plate on the side table. “Like a fancy kid’s meal.”

Stiles guffaws, “That’s what it was! When I was little the only thing I would eat was kraft mac and cheese with chicken nuggets. She was determined to make me a better version.”

“I would’ve liked to have met her,” you say softly, fixated on the points where your bodies were touching. “She sounds like an amazing person.”

“She was,” Stiles says just as quietly, playing with his food like he had lost interest in it. “She would’ve thought you were sweet.”

You lean closer, intrigued, “Sweet?”

“That was her descriptor word for all things she liked.” He puts his plate aside too, resting against the couch and your shoulder that was so near. “We got a coupon for the arcade? Sweet! My dad picked her a flower from the woods? That’s sweet of him. I’m forced into a sailor outfit for family pictures? He looks so sweet!”

You take a deep breath, “That is pretty sweet.”

Stiles turns to you, startled to see you so close to him. His throat grew dry and his chest felt tight, all words trickling from his brain and out his ears. He never talked about his mom. Not to Scott, not to his dad, not to his pillow – not to anyone. But talking about her to you was… easy.

You were having the quick realization that Stiles had not just brown eyes, but the most glassy brown eyes you had ever seen. Like if sunlight were to shine through the liquid of a whisky bottle. Or if a sunset caught a glimpse of a glistening honeycomb. Or if a campfire reflected off a drop of amber tree sap.

“So…” Stiles clears his throat, not wishing to pull away but very conscious of how high his voice sounds. “You like Atlantis?”

The movie had been playing the whole time in the background.

“Yes! Have you seen Milo Thatch? I’d marry him in an instant.”

“I didn’t realize you felt so strongly for an animated man.”

You poke your shoulder into him, “Fictional men.”

“And the appeal is?”

“It’s in the name,” you snicker, “They’re fictional.”

Stiles hums a reply, turning his attention back to the tv screen. “I’ll add that to your case file: only attracted to fictional men and therefore can conclude that she’s never had a real boyfriend.”

“Oh, it feels real though.”

Stiles fought a shiver tickling the top of his spine. He instead readjusted his pants, “I think I’m going to need more research on these fictional men you’re so fascinated with.”

“We’d have a lot of ground to cover,” you sigh, “Seeing as I don’t think you’ll read any of the books I give you, we’ll have to have a lot more movies nights like this.”

“I think I’d be okay with that,” Stiles says with a smirk on his face. His hands were above the blanket you share, lying in his lap and fidgeting with the green fuzzies coming from the fabric he was pulling.

~~~

You sat on the windowsill in the girls bathroom the next day, reapplying your lipstick and combing your fingers through your hair. Allison was readjusting her hairband in the mirror while Lydia fixes her mascara.

“We’re going to have a movie night,” the redhead says, admiring her eyelashes. “All of us.” She turns with a flair and points to the other two. “It’ll be prime time for a little under the blanket action.”

You make a face while Allison coughs awkwardly, “You want to do a double date?”

“Triple if we can get (Y/N) a boytoy,” Lydia smirks.

“I’m not exactly in the market for boytoys,” you say, crossing your arms.

Lydia leans against the sink, “You will when I tell you half the lacrosse team wants to ask you out since you started helping with Coach.”

A nauseous feeling enters your stomach, “I’m not a huge fan of dating, Lydia.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll handpick the perfect one for you.”

Allison was all skepticism as the bell rang, “There goes the last of English.”

“And now we can go straight to lacrosse practice!” Lydia claps her hands, “Let’s go shopping for (Y/N)’s boyfriend.”

The trio make their way to the field, each at a different level of enthusiasm, as you see Scott and Stiles in their uniforms. The boys were quick to pull you to the side.

“Why did you skip the rest of English?” Scott asks, “Is Allison okay?”

“We got an emergency text from Lydia,” you huff, “Turns out it was just the regular scheming and gossip.”

Stiles raises his eyebrows, “Like…?”

“Like how Lydia is going to find me a lacrosse boyfriend to match her and Allison’s lacrosse boyfriends…”

Scott and Stiles spoke at the same time:

“I’m Allison’s lacrosse boyfriend?”

“You’re getting a lacrosse boyfriend?”

You roll your eyes, “And with all our lacrosse boyfriends we’re going to have a ‘movie night’ to coverup the sexcapade I think Lydia’s planning.”

Scott was blinking really hard, and Stiles seems to have left on a thought tangent based on the slack jawed look on his face.

You snap your fingers, “I need your help with Lydia.”

“No,” Scott mumbles, “She’s scary.”

Stiles was still lingering on his imagination as he says, dreamily, “You don’t want a lacrosse boyfriend?”

Your hands fall on your hips, “I just don’t want Lydia to conduct a speed dating the lacrosse team weekend.”

“WESTBROOK!”

You close your eyes, “Yes, Coach!?”

Coach Finstock stomps over, clipboard in hand as he struggles to wrap the whistle around his wild haired head. “I need you to register the team for a spring retreat.”

You blink blearily, “A spring retreat, Coach?”

“Yeah, yeah it’s good for bonding and teamwork and… bonding.” He threw his hands up, “We have the funds this year so we’re going out.”

The teenagers share looks as you attempt to get a baseline of knowledge, “What’s our budget? When are the dates? Who do I contact?”

“Everything’s on my desk. Now get to it,” he puts the whistle between his teeth, “The district likes to hear about these things in advance.”

You back away to the locker rooms as you silently plead to Scott and Stiles to handle the Lydia situation. They were frantically whispering back to you, making exaggerated and confused gestures. You could spy Lydia and Allison talking to a lacrosse huddle by the bleachers.

For the next forty-five minutes you handle the paperwork that the principal and district employees emailed Finstock. You create an excel sheet for signups and a budget tracker. You contact a sports summer camp that allows retreats and field trips during the school year. All you need was to pass out permission slips and gather player information.

You were on your way out of the copy room when you spot Lydia on Jackson’s arm, conversing with some players on the sidelines. Scott was playing goalie while Stiles and a few others were doing a play on the field.

“Give me some good news, Westbrook,” Coach grumbles, bending his clipboard to near splintering levels. “Because these dancing monkeys need some incentive to play better than my recently deceased grandmother.”

“I’ve got everything scheduled here,” you say, not even bothering to show all your hard work. The Coach trusts you enough to have it finished. “I just need to get players information.”

“Done. Boys! Get your pansy ballet asses to line up next to Westbrook! Do what she says fellas or you’re going to miss one hell of a weekend retreat.”

A herd of maroon jerseys and shoulder pads stampede towards you on the bleachers. Sweaty, and slightly smelly, boys began to filter past as you write down their names, shirt size, contact information, and give them a permission slip. You could feel Lydia and Allison waiting on the bench behind you.

Lydia’s heel toed boot prods the middle of your back whenever a boy she particularly likes came up.

“Ben Manley,” a blonde-haired, freckled face says. “I like your jacket.”

Seeing as it was a jacket you borrowed from Stiles’ jeep, you smile, “Thanks, Ben Manley. Get this paper signed if you want to come on the retreat.”

He looks a little dejected as he walks past. Another boy comes up, shiny with sweat on his wonderfully dimpled cheeks. His hair was chestnut brown and curly, “Andrew Wickstrom,” he says with a smile, “Thank you for helping Coach. He hasn’t been as manic since you started.”

“I’m glad my hard work is paying off.” You hand him a permission slip as another sharp poke was felt in your back. “Just turn that in within the next week.”

“Thanks, (Y/N). See you in gym.”

Right, gym class that you were a TA in instead of attending. You told the other students that you already got those credits during homeschool, but really you had a doctors note detailing how under no circumstances were you to get your heart rate up.

While others ran laps and did pushups and played volleyball indoors, you graded papers for Finstock from various classes.

Scott and Stiles came next in line. Scott gave a lovestruck wave to the girl sitting behind you while Stiles whispers to you.

“Hanging in there?”

“I think Lydia is making a March Madness chart with eligible lacrosse players,” you hand the boys permission slips. “She’s relentless.”

“You think I’ll make the bracket?” he asks clumsily, his cleats sticking into the grass.

You shrug, a teasing tone to your voice, “She’s very particular about who she adds.”

Stiles hopes he wasn’t hearing sarcasm, or even worse – dislike, in your voice. He was shoved to the side by a much taller boy coming in next.

“Josh Arnett,” he says.

He was broad, darkhaired, light eyed, and currently getting a dirty look from Stiles.

“Hi there,” you say, a little starstruck at the intense eye contact. You immediately recognize him as a narcissistic asshole, one that you’d still gladly kiss and get your heart broken over. He was one that made you think Greek gods still existed. He was one that made dirty look sexy.

And you just said, ‘hi there.’

His smile was killer, “Are you going to be at the retreat?”

You ignore the boot in your back as you fumble over your words, “Probably. Coach has kind of grown dependent on me to function.”

He took a permission slip, “I’ll go if you go,” and he winks. Like full on ‘sent-a-warm-river-of-shivers-down-your-chest-and-to-your-middle’ kind of wink. Your uneven heart patters at the sight of him walking away. Those wide shoulder pads… slim waist… and tight little…

You snap out of it as you realize the boy next to you was doing the exact same thing. Danny Mahealani was gawking as he groans under his breath, “Damn I love being on the lacrosse team.”

You laugh, shoving him away in a playful gesture. Danny was by far one of your favorites on the team. Lydia was right above your shoulder in an instant.

“I think we have our winner.”

“What?” you say a bit breathless, “Mr. Tall, Dark, and Philanderer?”

Allison was choking on laughs as Lydia huffs, “Come on, just a little movie date tonight. You don’t have to see him again if it’s really that bad.”

“You’re just trying to get a hot squad together,” you poke her button nose before you stand. “But you can’t force a healthy relationship on incompatible people.”

“Sure I can,” she scowls, “Jackson and I are still together.”

You share a look with Allison before packing up, “If you two are bringing dates tonight, I might as well bring the one that flirted with me.”

“Oh, please,” Allison crosses her arms, “All of them were being fl…”

“Perfect,” Lydia claps, “I’ll talk with Josh in the locker room.” And she flounces off in her skirts, leaving Allison to walk with Scott.

And Stiles appears at your shoulder, grabbing your leftover papers and the laptop from your hands. “So, has Lydia decided your fate?” He tries not to sound too eager (and/or desperate) to learn about the evenings plans, but he was hovering a bit close as you rub your temples. Your heart rate was a little high since encountering Mr. Philanderer.

“We have a big movie date tonight.”

He holds his breath as he continues, “… slash sexcapade?”

You snort, “I’d rather clean out whatever is festering in Coach’s desk drawers than have a sexcapade this weekend.”

His next breath was deep and tight, “Then who are you watching the movie with?”

“Josh Arnett.” Stiles stuck to the grass while you walk a few steps ahead. “What?”

“You are going to spend the night with Jealous Josh? Judgy Josh? Jockstrap Josh? Forget that last one.”

You giggle, “Yes, I’m going out with Jaw-dropping Josh.” You pull on Stiles’ arm, “It’s just to appease Lydia.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Of course you don’t,” you say, “It’s going to be just a one time thing.”

“But what if he charms you and kisses you and you agree to more dates…” he watches a dreamy look slide onto your face. “Oh my god, you’re thinking about kissing him, aren’t you?”

You open the door to the locker room, full of sounds and smells alike. “It would be a crime not to acknowledge that he’s hot. And I’d have more status by saying I kissed him once.”

“I don’t have a good feeling about it.”

“Because I’m going on a date or because I’m going on a date with him?” You try to keep your tone civil as you’re surrounded by changing lacrosse players.

“Because he’s a douchebag that will probably do something to hurt your feelings and I don’t want that to happen.”

You take all your supplies from him, speckles of anger popping up your spine, “You trying to control who I go out with is a little douchy, don’t you think?”

“I’m not trying to control…” Stiles threw his gloves on the ground, “I’m trying to look out for you.”

“I’m not going to catch feelings for him,” you say indignantly, “I just want to try it Lydia’s way for once. It’s just one date, how bad could it be?” A sudden rush to your head makes you stumble, ramming your shoulder into a line of lockers.

Stiles jumps to your back, hands on your arms as you screw up your eyes. You take a deep breath and force the black spots from your vision. Slowly the voice of Stiles enters your ears.

“I’m fine,” you say, standing straight, “My heart was just beating a little fast.”  

“Because of our argument?”

You turn to the sound of his voice. The previous anger was gone. In its place were fearful honey eyes and an open, honest expression.

“Among other things,” you say, trying to catch your breath. “I’ll see you later.”

Stiles was screwing up his lips, chewing the inside of his cheek, clearly worried as you retreat. “Call me if something happens!”

 ~~~

You wait at your living room window for over an hour. You wait in your comfy blue sweater that’s cute enough for a date and soft enough for cuddling. You wait with styled hair and a little lipstick.

You could feel your parents spying from the kitchen, disappointed that you were being abandoned like this. A pain creeps into your chest that has nothing to do with your heart. It made your stomach twist and your head hurt.

It did not feel good to be stood up.

You text Lydia to give her an update. Her quick reply was that she and Jackson would pick you up and you could pick out the movie together.

You didn’t wave goodbye as you left the house, embarrassed by the turn of events. “I was such an idiot.”

Lydia turns in her seat, “You’re not an idiot, you look gorgeous.”

“I’m an idiot for getting excited about a night out with that jerk,” you play with your fingers. “And I knew from the beginning that he was an asshole, and I still got all ready trying to impress him.”

“No, you got ready because you wanted to feel hot. Remember you were going to one and done him tonight; Josh should be the one feeling disappointed that he isn’t here with you.”

You crack a faint smile, “Where’s Scott and Allison?”

“Oh, Allison’s hanging out with her aunt and so Scott decided to make other plans.”

“Meaning it’s just us three tonight?”

Jackson sighs begrudgingly, “Yep.”

“Then we might as well make it a chick flick night,” Lydia says, cheery despite her boyfriends obvious disdain for the situation. “Let’s watch The Notebook.”

“Absolutely not,” Jackson says, “We are not doing chick flicks just because your friend was dumped.”

Lydia purses her lips, “You’re not making this any easier, Jackson.”

“Yeah, I don’t really feel like crying, Lyds,” you attempt, the video store just down the road.

Jackson starts to ramble about different action and sports movies, “We never choose a movie that I pick. How about Hoosiers? Not only is it the best basketball movie ever, but it is also the best sports movie ever made.”

Lydia was quick with her reply, “No.”

“It’s got Gene Hackman and Dennis Hopper.”

You grimace at Lydia’s same short reply. “We can go in and browse for a little bit.” The night was shaping up to be one of the worst by far.

“I am not watching The Notebook again!” Jackson raises his voice.

“Come on, Jackson,” you say, opening the door. “Let’s just go look around for a second. I’ll help pick a good one.”

You walk to the first aisle inside, both of you on edge for different reasons. Jackson makes no effort to make conversation as you peruse the romantic comedy shelves. “She means well. She’s just trying to cheer me up.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry if I don’t want my date ruined by turning it into a girls night.”

You cross your arms, “I’m sorry.”

Jackson scowls at your drawn expression, “Arnett really is an asshole, by the way. I told Lydia as much.”

“Again, she meant well,” you sigh, “But thanks anyway.” A phone starts ringing in the background and kept echoing through the empty store. “Geesh, you would think someone would pick that up by now.”

“Hello?” Jackson calls out, “Is anybody working here?”

“What’s that?” you ask, pointing at a pair of shoes sticking out from an aisle further down. “Did someone fall off that ladder?” The medical assistant in you was already in action, pulling your phone out as you near the shoes.

You both move slowly, tense as the atmosphere gives an eerie flicker of lights. As you round the aisle of movies, there laying on the ground is the store manager – his throat clawed out.

“Oh my god!” you scream, gawking at the blood soaking the front of his shirt. It was fresh and glistening, splattered up onto his face and glasses.

“Holy shit!” Jackson yells, jumping back and onto the ladder. It moves enough that a broken light fixture falls, ripping the exposed wiring and plunging the entire video store into flickering darkness.

One second it’s dull yellow light, and the next an awful red dark, and then light again. It was making your vision blur with spots. You fall to your knees, sickened by the sudden wet warmth that soaks your pants.

Your heart was racing, beating like a war drum as you fought to control your breathing. Jackson was standing in the middle aisle, clearly shocked into silence. You were fumbling with your phone, attempting to dial any number that came up first.

There was a low, deafening growl that ripples through the store. You eye the claw marks on the store manager and immediately think of something big and terrifying. Jackson did too as he falls to hide behind a shelf.

You could hear the growling towards the back, too near for your liking. You shuffle away from the body, aware that Jackson had just left you to fend for yourself. A row of shelves falls behind you as you make your way to the front, crawling on your hands and knees.

You finally manage to dial a number, the first one you could think of. And the sound of Stiles on the other end brought you a sense of relief. He would do something.

“Hello.”

“Stiles…” you whisper, crawling along the front of the store and next to the windows.

“(Y/N), what’s wrong?”

Your breath was shaky and came out in wheezes, “I need help.”

There was a rustling on the other end, “Where are you? (Y/N), you need to breathe.”

A snarling growl came from your left and you dread to turn your head, “Oh god…”

“(Y/N)! Stay awake – tell me where you are!”

But as you turn your gaze to the hot breath and red gaze of the growling creature, you let out a bloodcurdling scream. The giant monster swipes a paw at you, clawing at your shoulder and sending you spinning into the opposite wall. You slam against the brick with a sickening force, a crash of broken glass above you as the creature jumps through.

Shards of glass collect on your body, stinging some of your exposed skin. Warmth was spreading down your left arm as you fought to breathe. Your vision was blurring, and you were falling in and out of consciousness.

Jackson crawls out from under the fallen video shelves and finds you at the front, noticing Lydia screaming in the car. He kneels beside you and pulls out his phone, dialing 911.

~~~

Stiles sat in the parking lot of a burger joint, eating dinner with his father in the police car. He was reminiscent of the homecooked meal you made him, fondly thinking of his mother too.

“Did they forget my curly fries?”

He chides his father, “You’re not supposed to eat fries, especially the curly ones.”

The Sheriff smirks, “Well, I’m carrying a lethal weapon. If I want the curly fries, I will have the curly fries.”

Stiles took his bitten straw out of his mouth, “If you think getting rid of contractions in all your sentences makes your argument any more legitimate, you are wrong.”

His dad gave him a bewildered look, “Somethings off with you tonight. Did you take too much Adderall?”

“No,” Stiles grumbles, picking at his hamburger wrapper, “Just… thinking about school.” He watches his dad’s expression egg him on further, “… and lacrosse… and Scott…” He huffs and throws his dinner back in the brown bag. “And girls.”

The Sheriff scoffs, hiding a laugh, “Just the usual then.”

Stiles felt his phone ring and he was surprised to see your name appear. Thinking you’re going to tell him Josh Arnett is the asshat that they all knew him to be, Stiles says confidently into the phone, “Hello.”

There was a terrified whisper in reply, “Stiles…”

He sat straighter, his dad catching a soda before it fell to the floor. “(Y/N), what’s wrong?” You sound like you were on the verge of a panic attack.

“I need help.” Your breathing was erratic, and he knew your heartbeat was probably the same.

“Where are you? (Y/N), you need to breathe.” God forbid you faint in whatever terrifying situation you’re in.

There was a terrible growl behind your shaky words, and you sound so small when you cry, “Oh god…”

It sent a thrill of terror through Stiles, “(Y/N)! Stay awake – tell me where you are!” A million scenarios were flying through his mind. Was there a werewolf there? The alpha? What had happened to your date?

There was a deafening bloodcurdling scream as the phone must’ve fallen from your hand. It took Stiles a second to realize that it was you that screamed. “(Y/N)? (Y/N)!” Your cries flew to the side along with a crash of glass as the snarling beast left.

The line went dead and Stiles fell into a panic, “How do I… where… god, dad we have to find her!”

The Sheriff listens with sincerity as he had watched the entire conversation. “What’s going on?”

“That was my friend, (Y/N) Westbrook. She was supposed be out tonight on a date, but something went wrong. She sounded terrified and then there was a scream and a crash and then… nothing.” His arms were flailing as he sat on the edge of the car seat, “We have to find her!”

“Westbrook?” the Sheriff says, throwing his wrapper to the floor, “You don’t mean…”

“Yes! And I know you know about her heart.”

His dads eyes widen ever-so-slightly, “How do you know about…?”

Stiles slams a hand on the dashboard, half tempted to grab the steering wheel, “We have to go – she’s in serious trouble!”

“Now hang on just a damn minute,” was his reply, “We don’t even know where she is. And before you go flying out the window, let’s think about this with some sense. Do you know where she was supposed to be on her date?”

Stiles whacks his head, as if to jog some memories over the panic, “They were going to watch a movie.” He bounces his leg, pleading with his dad, “Please, dad, she’s going to have another fainting episode.”

The police radio turns on with some crackling feedback. The dispatcher on duty was a man judging by the voice. At least that meant Mrs. Westbrook wasn’t on shift that night.

“Unit One, do you copy?”

Stiles leapt for the radio and the Sheriff slaps his hand away. “Unit One, copy.”

“Got a report of a possible 187.”

Stiles jumps in his chair, shaking the whole car, “A murder!?”

“It’s at the local video store. Some teenagers are involved.”

The Sheriff confirms he’ll be there and felt a twang of guilt as he watches the fear bubble in his son. “Do you have confirmation on how many are hurt?”

“Negative, but the boy on the phone was in a frenzy about an animal attack.”

“Thanks, Johnson.” The Sheriff put the radio up, speeding down the street with sirens blaring. “Let’s not fear the worst, Stiles. They said there was just one possible 187.”

Stiles was biting his lips, drumming his knuckles over his mouth, “I should have stopped her from going out. I knew it was a bad idea.”

The drive was tense and painfully slow despite the speed the Sheriff was emitting. When they reach the video store it was swarming with EMTs and an ambulance. The store window was shattered, and Jackson was yelling at whatever emergency personnel he could. Lydia was huddled in a shock blanket on the curb, and sitting on the edge of the ambulance was you.

“Oh, thank god,” Stiles cries, “Thank you god.” He was falling out of the police car before it even made a complete stop. “(Y/N)!” He ran for the Beacon ambulance.

You were leaning against the side of the car, an EMT bandaging your left arm. You had a few butterfly bandages on your face and a rapidly developing bruise to the side of your head. There were dark circles under your eyes and your skin was ashy again.

“What happened?” he asks, quiet compared to the panic he was in moments ago.

You turn your wet eyes to him, gulping, “Stiles. There… there was a monster.”

“She hit her head pretty hard,” the EMT says, finishing your bandage. “She needs to go home and get some rest.”

Stiles gave the man a nod, gently sitting next to you and giving his full attention. “What kind of monster?”

“It was like a bear or a wolf,” you whisper, exhausted. “I was so scared.” The break in your voice put a hitch in his chest. “Josh bailed on me and then Scott and Allison. And I just wanted to go home.” You turn to him, “I want to go home, Stiles.”

He clenches his jaw, his throat bobbing, “Okay. Okay, we can go home…” He stole a shock blanket from the back and wraps you in it, careful around your left shoulder. “Did you faint at all?”

You stare off, disassociating, “In and out.”

The Sheriff calls your parents as you lean into Stiles. Your head nestles into the crook of his neck and shoulder. He couldn’t put his arm around your shoulders for fear of hurting the new wound. Instead he wraps his hand lower on your waist.

With his other hand he reaches for your fingers, worry still eating away at his stomach. “Where are we on the possibility of fainting right now?”

You groan, “60% chance.”

He gives a painful smile, wrapping his hand in yours. With his fingers he felt for the pulse in your wrist. It was a little high and stuttering unevenly.

“What do you hear?”

You hum, “Sirens. People. You.”

Stiles felt a warmth seeping into his chest, it was loud and suffocating and squeezed at his heart. “What do you smell?”

“Rubbing alcohol. And you.”

He plays with your fingers, tracing them with his thumb, “What do I smell like?” A small huff of air escapes your lips, and he likes to believe it was almost a laugh. “Cause you know exactly how I think you smell.”

You try to clear your throat, “Like sandalwood.”

“I’m not even sure what that is.”

“Like the woods,” you whisper. “Like rain, and trees, and honey.”

“How did you know my favorite pastime was bathing in forest rain and honey?” He imagines the twitch in your cheek against his neck was an attempt at a smile. “What do you feel?”

You fidget in his embrace, “Tired. Pain. Fear…”

“Okay, bad question.”

“Your hand,” you continue, “You’re warm. It’s nice.”

The inflation of his chest was reaching a bursting point, and he laid his face against your hair. Holding you there, he checks your pulse again with his long fingers. It had lowered since his arrival.

Your parents came soon after that, fretful and terrified of your condition. They wanted to take you to the hospital for a full checkup and your grip tightened on Stiles’ hand as his dad took him away.

“Don’t worry,” he whispers in your ear, your parents approaching. “I’ll see you later.”

~~~

It was very late into the night when Stiles climbs the garden trellis to your window. He was delighted to see that it was left cracked open. He pushes it open the rest of the way and falls inside, careful not to make too much noise.

You lay in bed with the lamp on, illuminating the room with its peachy color. You were in midnight blue pajamas with little stars printed on them. Your left arm was stiff and heavily bandaged, painkillers adding to your collection of prescription meds on the nightstand.

“Hey,” he whispers, gaining the attention of your wet gaze. You must’ve been crying for a long time judging by the redness of your eyes. “How was the hospital?”

“I’ll be fine.”

He didn’t believe you. He sat on the edge of your bed, itching to grab your hand again but needing a good reason. “When I got your call… it scared me shitless.” A chuckle escapes him, “My dad was ready to clobber me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No,” Stiles says, “You don’t have to be sorry for anything. You did nothing wrong. This was all just a terrible ordeal.”

You sniff, “I’m tired.”

Stiles nods, “Yeah, I just wanted to check on you before bed. I should let you sleep.”

“I’m not going to sleep.”

His chest tightens like earlier. He aches to touch you again, seeing you so fragile and tense. “(Y/N)…”

“Every time I close my eyes I see that thing clawing at me.” Another tear escapes your eyeline and runs down your cheek, “I’m too scared to sleep.”

“Well…” Stiles picks at a seam in his pants, “How about you call for your mom? I’m sure she’ll…”

“I don’t want to worry them anymore. I’m tired of making them worry so much.”

Stiles chews on his lip, “Hmm, okay. How about I stay? I’ll just sit at your desk and keep watch.”

You watch him with swollen eyes, “You’d do that?”

“Of course,” he shrugs his shoulders, “I’m worried about you too. And I feel better knowing I can keep you calm.” He wasn’t going to tell her that for the last three hours he had been replaying their moment outside the ambulance. The way you leaned into him, and he got to hold your hand and listen to you talk about how nice it was to be next to him.

“I want you to stay,” you say quietly. “But you can’t sit in a desk chair all night.” You pat your uninjured hand on the mattress beside you.

Stiles feels warmth flood his cheeks, “Oh, yeah… well – great.” He sits down and stretches out on top of the covers, “This is a much more comfortable spot to keep watch.”

You pull at your blankets, turning towards him and grounding yourself in his presence. “There’s a squeaky floorboard in the hallway. You’ll hear if my parents are coming.” You place a hand on his forearm, “Thank you for being here.”

His throat bobs at your touch, “Always.” And he lays there well into the night, cursing when your hand falls away in your sleep. He waits for sunrise to leave, occupying himself with watching your breathing patterns and checking your pulse every once in a while. He even brushes the hair from your face and flattens the arm bandages that start to unstick.

He was just memorizing the curve of your nose and the slant of your cheekbone when the sun broke over the horizon.

He sighs, rubbing hard at his face. If this is what having a crush on you was like… it was going to consume him.  

~~~

Taglist: @assassinsasha23 @tasty-book-fans @lovelybaka @the-fandom-queen @runs-with-sciss0rs

[thornnii]

⎯ ☆ calico critters

genre: fluff wordcount: 1.4k pairing: percy jackson x fem!reader tags: daughter of hypnos!reader (she/her), same au as ‘my girlfriend’, established relationship, technology doesn’t attract monsters, tw for talk of food & eating summary: percy knew she didn't really like the cold but he was hoping that a little gift would help bring a smile to her face. notes: I'm english so it felt weird to write calico critters, but it just felt more appropriate for the story for some reason ?

↳ return to masterlist

a chill wind permeated throughout camp as the various demigods that braved the outdoors found ways to keep themselves warm and moving. however most, those [reader] deemed sensible or sane - as sane as anyone at this camp could be, were tucked away inside. [reader] herself was in her cabin watching different video essays from youtube that piqued her interest. it was growing close to the end of lunch time and clovis was still gone, [reader] however had expressed that she wasn’t hungry and although clovis had attempted to convince her to join him, he knew it would be a waste of time trying to convince his stubborn sister.

[reader] had barely noticed the passing of time, her noise-cancelling headphones allowing her to block out everything around her and immerse herself in the video she was watching. that was why she never noticed the knocking that came from the door of cabin 15. it may have only just begun or it may have been going on for a minute.

percy felt like cursing his innate need to be polite for his girlfriend. it was cold and windy, and he’d forgotten a jacket when he left his own cabin earlier. after a minute or so of intermittently knocking on the door, percy decided he was going to have just open the door himself. he opened the door slowly, calling out [reader]’s name as he entered. it didn’t take him long to see why his knocks had gone unanswered from the headphones, to [reader]’s hunched posture over her laptop.

cautiously, percy stepped round to be in front of [reader], not wanting to startle her from behind. the movement in her peripherals caused [reader] to look away from her laptop, the sudden, to her, presence of her boyfriend causing her to jump slightly, blinking owlishly at something that wasn’t a pixelated screen after hours of being on youtube. “w-what are you doing here?” her voice was hoarse after not really speaking since she’d woken up, stumbling as she threaded the words together.

“you missed lunch,” percy said matter-of-factly. “so I brought you something.” percy pulled out a small tupperware container containing a sandwich and a bunch of grapes. upon seeing the food, [reader] began to feel hunger grabbing at her. she took the container from percy with a quiet mutter of thanks, taking small bites of the sandwich.

“how are you doing?” percy asked, only receiving shrugged shoulders as a response.

“I dunno, alright I guess. been watching video essays.” [reader] gestured to laptop screen which showed a youtube playlist of video essays on a multitude of different topics; the video that had been paused upon percy’s surprise appearance was titled ‘The Internet is Turning its Back on True Crime’ by Shanspeare.

“true crime?” percy raised an eyebrow.

“it’s interesting.” [reader] countered.

percy just shook his head with a sigh. he’d experienced [reader]’s stubbornness the hard way before and knew how fruitless it was to try and further the dispute. instead he reached into the big front pocket of his slightly baggy hoodie. “got something else for you too.” he eased a hand through his curls.

that caught [reader]’s interest. ‘what else could percy have?’

slowly he pulled out a little plastic bag, the ‘Calico Critters’ logo printed at the top and a group of the baby characters gathered at the bottom. the top was already slightly ripped open, and [reader] eyed it suspiciously. percy noticed the look and explained: “yeah, sorry about that. I wanted to get you a specific one so I had to check what was in there. took a couple of tries to get the right one.” (actually percy bought roughly $30 worth of the blind bags and definitely got some looks from the cashier and his mom, but if it ended up making [reader] happy percy was willing to spend his entire allowance.)

[reader] took the bag from percy’s hands, opening the gap at the top slightly wider and tipping the critter out into her awaiting palm. from the bag, a small black cat baby slid out. it fell face first into [reader]’s hand and she was quick to toss the now empty bag onto the bed beside her before gently picking up the tiny baby figure. soft black fur was wrapped up in a pastel yellow smock, the inside of its ears were pink under the black fuzz. at this point [reader] couldn’t hide her smile as she carefully stroked the baby's cheek with the back of her finger.

all percy could do was look on admiringly; at how [reader]’s eyes shone as she inspected the tiny animal, at how sweet her rare smile was, at how she cradled the baby in her hands. percy was getting lost in thoughts as he sat on the floor, lovingly gazing up at his girlfriend. it was [reader] that abruptly broke the silence.

“this means we’re parents now.”

now it was percy’s turn to look confused, until [reader] continued; “this is our baby.” she held the little black cat out to him, and now understanding her words, percy smiled along with his girlfriend.

“yeah. but if this is our baby that means we need to name it, any ideas?” [reader] took a moment to think before announcing decidedly: “star.”

“star?” percy parroted back, testing out the name.

“yeah, she’s got black fur like the void of space, and yellow is associated with the colour of stars.” [reader] explained.

“star it is then.” percy agreed.

standing up, percy stretched his limbs, sighing in satisfaction when he heard several cracks of his joints. choosing to ignore the muttered ‘ew’ that came from his girlfriend at the noises, he planted a quick kiss to her head and moved over to the cabin window just after the end of her bed. pulling back the thin cream curtains, percy craned his neck to look up at the sky above the camp. the dark skies from earlier in the day seemed to have mostly cleared and the winds had slowed down. “do you want to go outside for a walk?” percy asked, turning back to face [reader], stifling a snort of laughter at her disapproving expression. “c’mon.” percy came back over to her, taking the hand that didn’t hold star in his own, pulling her off the bed and leading her to the window. “the weather has cleared a bit and we could use it as an opportunity to show star around camp.”

“okay.” [reader] agreed, still not totally sold on the idea but enjoying the thought of spending more time with percy and their new child. [reader] was still in her pyjama trousers and camp top, so she handed star over to percy and went on the hunt for a jacket. she found an oversized jumper in the pile of clothes at the end of her bed and slung it on. percy held an arm out for [reader] and with a giggle she took hold of his forearm, resting her arm in the crook of his elbow.

stepping out of the cabin into the brisk afternoon air, the pair started off on their slow stroll, pointing out the different landmarks of camp to star as the passed each one. as they continued to walk, the skies continued to clear up, the weather warming up even as the wind continued to nip at their cheeks. the two walked aimlessly around for about an hour before they headed back to cabin 15. percy sat down on the bed first before pulling [reader] to sit with him. [reader] pulled her laptop into her lap like before and disconnected her headphones from it, playing the video so they could finish watching it together. having missed the beginning of the video, percy whispered multiple questions in her ear about what was going on, [reader] whispering answers back as if they were at a cinema and didn’t want to disturb the people around them, even if the only other one with them was star.

in percy’s warm embrace, it didn’t take long until [reader] began to feel tired, slumping in his arms and resting her head on his shoulder. the sight of his girlfriend being able to fall asleep so easily in his embrace made his heart swell and a blush creep onto his cheeks. pressing a gentle kiss to the crown of her head, percy moved carefully to close [reader]’s laptop and move it to the end of the bed, then carefully placing star onto [reader]’s bedside table before shifting to sit more comfortably against the headboard of her bed, making sure that [reader] was still laying comfortably on his chest.

[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Rollo Flamme - Student Council President Robes Vignette

"...How carefree."

[Noble Bell College – Bell Tower Interior]

Rollo: Sigh… There is a slight chill. In addition, the sun is rising later as each day passes.

Rollo: Heh… This is a wonderful season. The time I must spend exchanging idle prattle with my idiotic classmates grows shorter.

Rollo: Now, before everyone awakens, I will do what I can to fulfill my duties.

Rollo: …And it would be a nuisance if I were to be spotted by those irritating bunch, as well.

[Noble Bell College – Bell Tower Upstairs]

[gargoyles clanking around]

Rollo: AUGH, SILENCE! You blasted gargoyles.

Rollo: All your merry romping is completely undignified. Can you not settle down for even a single moment?

[gargoyles happily clanking around]

Rollo: Ugh, yes, I will be sure to tend to you all next weekend. After all, I cannot tolerate abandoning a task that I have taken on.

Rollo: If you understand, then leave me be. I have more important matters to attend to.

[gargoyles clank away]

Rollo: …Finally, they've left. Good grief, they are indeed a troublesome group.

Rollo: It is repulsive enough that they operate on magic, but they are much worse in conjunction with all that atrocious noise...

Rollo: If their whole purpose of existence were not to protect the bell tower, I would have long ignored those hunks of stone.

Rollo: …Would you not agree, dear Bell of Salvation?

Rollo: Heheh. You are as beautiful as ever today.

Rollo: How wonderful it would be if everyone were just like you.

Rollo: You ring when you should ring and are silent when you should be silent. Nothing could be more appropriate and certain.

Rollo: …Ah. The sun will rise soon.

Rollo: I should finish cleaning before the bell ringers arrive.

Rollo: Please bestow upon us your beautiful resounding tones again today, dear Bell of Salvation.

[Noble Bell College – Courtyard]

Rollo: It's finally time for lunch.

Rollo: This should be a good distance away so I would not have to suffer the prattling of those unpleasant mages. I shall rest here…

???: Oh, President, here you are!

Rollo: Hm?

Vice President: I was searching for you, Rollo-kaichō. Why are you eating your lunch all the way out here?

Rollo: Oh, it's you…

Vice President: I see you're having bread for lunch. I never see you in the cafeteria, so I had no idea.

Rollo: That's right.

Rollo: 2 croissants and 16 singular grapes, as well as one cup of café au lait.

Rollo: That's all. That is my lunch every single day, 365 days a year.

Vice President: Eh, every day? YOU HAVE THE SAME THING FOR LUNCH EVERY DAY!?

Rollo: With a strict routine, I am able to forgo any unnecessary desires. It is rather refreshing. I wholeheartedly recommend you try it as well.

Vice President: I-I don't think I could do it. I'd probably get tired of the same stuff quickly.

Rollo: …How unfortunate that you are not a kindred spirit. More importantly, you had some business of me?

Vice President: Ah, right. Your professor was searching for you just a moment ago.

Vice President: It sounds like they wanted your permission to publish in a newspaper the essay you wrote on your impressions of that one book.

Rollo: A newspaper? …You wouldn't happen to be referring to the "Shaftlands News," that I read for my morning paper, would you?

Vice President: That's right. It's absolutely amazing that you'll be featured in such a big newspaper! That's Rollo-kaichō for you!

Vice President: I also heard that you were the only one who received a perfect score on the Potionology test in today's class.

Rollo: Hmph. It's nothing of import.

Vice President: No need to be so humble! Why, just the other day, you even brought to bloom a water blossom that is said to be very difficult to cultivate. The professors were very impressed.

Vice President: I truly hold you in high regard. There is no other mage at this school that has as much exceptional expertise as you!

Rollo: Is that so? …How ironic.

Vice President: Is something the matter?

Rollo: Nothing of concern. Rather, thank you for your message. Sorry to have caused you trouble.

Vice President: Not at all! But since I'm here, could I take lunch with you?

Rollo: …Well, I am just about done eating. I will be heading right to the professor's office now.

Rollo: Forgive me, but I must head out. We can partake in lunch together some other time.

Vice President: Alright. Then, we'll do it some other time!

[Noble Bell College – Lecture Hall]

Rollo: …How carefree. Why would he speak to me so familiarly, when he cannot even understand my thoughts…?

Rollo: Ah, but there is no time to dwell on that. I must head towards the staff room.

[City of Flowers]

[enters store]

Rollo: Hello.

Rollo: …Yes, that's correct. I would like to order the usual letterhead and envelope. Yes, one of the white ones.

Rollo: …Heh, I agree. Even if it may be considered an anachronism, I believe letters are wonderful tools.

Rollo: It may not be as convenient as sending an e-mail or making a phone call, but with more care and thought placed into each word, one can avoid any careless language.

Rollo: Hm? There is a cheaper stationary set similar to this one, from a different maker? …No, I am perfectly content with my usual fare.

Rollo: I could not bring myself to change the physical appearance of the letter after writing them for so long. I prefer to keep my things consistent and orderly, after all.

Rollo: …Yes, indeed. Thank you for everything, as always. Goodbye.

[leaves store]

Rollo: …A superb shopkeeper. As one would expect from a resident of the city that the Righteous Judge loved so.

Rollo: As a student of Noble Bell College, I must strive to be just as noble.

Rollo: …This city is a pleasant place to reside. The people are amiable, and the scenery is fantastic.

Rollo: However, all these beautiful flowers were originally cultivated with magic…

Rollo: Flowers… Magic…

Rollo: Mheh… Hehehe… Hehehehe…

Goat: Baa, baa.

Rollo: Hm, a goat, is it? What do you hope to gain from nestling up against me?

Rollo: Perhaps you are hungry. Unfortunately, I don't have anything that you could eat.

Rollo: If you are hoping for me to feed you, you would be better off finding someone else…

Goat: Baaa～

Rollo: What? …Are you attempting to snatch my stationary!?

Rollo: How vile… No, you cannot have it. I am very partial to this specific stationary.

Rollo: Moreover, eating paper will cause you digestive issues. I shan't think any less of you. You should give u… Hey, let go this instance!

Goat: Baaa～～

Rollo: You wretched goat! If you do not release my papers, I will have to just…!

Rollo: Ah. No, there are too many people who may see…

Rollo: If you weren't a creature cherished by this city, I wouldn't hesitate to send you flying.

Rollo: Consider this a narrow escape.

Goat: BAAA!

Rollo: Don't you dare gnaw on my robe! I may find the City of Flowers to be spectacular in and of itself, however I cannot approve of these unsanitary conditions.

[Noble Bell College – Student Board Room]

Rollo: "In conclusion, I am doing as well as ever. My best wishes to you both, as well." …

Rollo: …Perhaps that is a tad too formal.

Rollo: No matter. It is enough for my parents to hear that I am doing well here.

Rollo: They have always been worrisome…

Rollo: Much too worrisome… Ever since…

Rollo: …

Rollo: The fire…

Rollo: …

Rollo: …Well. I suppose I could provide additional updates in the letter.

Rollo: I'm certain I will be unable to fall asleep sufficiently tonight, at any rate. I'll continue revising it as much as possible.

Rollo: I have nothing but time, after all…

Requested by @raven-at-the-writing-desk.

[travelingthief]

Dionysus Offerings/Devotional Acts

There'll be NSFW themes as he is the god of wine and ecstasy!

Offerings

Wine/Intoxication

Alcohol, specifically wine

Grapes

Wine corks

Wine glasses

Shot glasses

Goblets

Corkscrews

Sparkling cider

Grape flavored things

Cheese

Weed/hallucenigens

Nips (small alcohol bottles)

Bottle opener

Beer/soda tabs

Alcohol bottles with cool labels

Fruit/fruit seeds

Theater/Plays

Play/theater scripts

Play/movie tickets

Masks

Costumes

Nature

Pine cones

Fennel 

Wildflowers

Fig/fig newtons

Ivy

Leopard/cheetah print

Honey

Bull imagery

Donkey imagery

Bones

Antlers

Dead/preserved animals

Hiking gear

Seeds

Dolphins

Depictions of big cats

Wheat

Barley

Ecstasy

Concert/festival tickets

Various drugs (use safely!)

Sex toys

Your favorite music

Misc.

Locks of hair

Shaven beard hair 

Pride swag

Extravagant clothes/clothes that make you feel good

Devotional Acts

Wine/Intoxication

Drink alcohol/get drunk

Go to a wine tasting

Make wine

Eat grapes

Trip intentionally/spiritually

Learn about substance abuse/recovery

Destigamtize drug users

Learn about harm reduction

Use drugs safely 

Theater

Attend a play

Write a play/film/musical

Make home videos

Write poetry

Act

Dress up

Go to the movie theater

Nature

Go to the woods

Dance/sing in the woods

Meditate in the woods

Learn wilderness safety and first aid

Learn what to do when encountering a wild animal

Go off the beaten path

Explore new areas

Pick up litter

Forage

Recycle bottles

Grow fruit

Try new fruits

Ecstasy 

Attend concerts/festivals

Attend/throw parties/celebrations

Have sex

Masturbate

Have threesomes/swing/whatever you’re in to

Finally give into that one kink you’ve been repressing (you know the one)

Do drugs (responsibly)

Learn about consent/establish boundaries with partners

Death/Rebirth

Dionysus is a god of rebirth and resurrection. This association comes from his birth stories and has resulted in epithets like “twice-born.”

Learn how to preserve dead animals

Learn about different life cycles (plants, animals, etc)

Learn about your ancestry 

Foreigners

Dionysus is also seen as a foreign god with unknown origins. He also traveled through and invaded India.

Learn about immigration in your area

Learn about different cultures

Try foreign foods

Learn a new language

Learn about your ancestry 

Help immigrants in your area

Misc.

Grow your hair out

Manifest/Keep a manifestation journal. Sexual/creative energy is linked and can be used to manifest

Shed your old self

Self-reflection/self-exploration

Identify areas where you may overindulge (food, substances, spending, etc.)

[push-tet]

VVBS FAMILY DECREPATION DROPED!

+ new familys

I also updated the family descriptions from the previous post here. Like last time, I have provided a link to the wiki for new sims to understand the reference

Albany wanted a big family, and he got it without paying attention to the growing strife from within. Meanwhile Goneril has been having a secret affair, in which she found a lifeline and a chance break free from her old beliefs in order to openly express her genuine thoughts and feelings. Will Mrs. Capp be able to go on with it or will she once again withdraw into her shell for the supposed family “stability”? And will Miranda, Hal, Desdemona and Ariel carry on the Capp pseudo-traditions, or smash the establishment to smithereens?

Antonio Monty’s emotional state and career are sinking to the bottom of a “grape juice” bottle. Will his children be able to help him recover from the loss or is he going to need the outside help? Where has Hero disappeared to? Was it an alien abduction, like how it happened to that lady in a red dress? Or does Regan Capp have something to do with it, since Hero wouldn’t stop going on about her until the day she vanished into thin air?

Regan and Cornwall had to move from the big city of Belladonna Cove back to the small Veronaville due to unsuccessful financial shenanigans. It appears that these two will have to move in with, in Cornwall’s own words, a no-good, insignificant, useless and lazy Regan’s younger brother until the duo gains the strength to start all over again.

Bianca Monty has always dreamt about children, and someone from above gave her a clear answer by leaving a young and eccentric Benvolio on her doorstep. Recently, however, the young mother has been feeling uneasy and is growing distant from her adoptive son. How does Benvolio feel about this and is he aware of the reasons behind his mother’s anxiety?

The Snout (my post) - Zhung (wiki link)

Madam Snout, a fashion photographer and designer, once belonged to an influential family of tea planters – the Zhungs. But one day Madam’s worldview took a 180 degree turn and she fled to Veronaville with her daughter in tow to start a new life away from her strict family. Things went on as usual until one day Madam’s mother, Madame Yingtai herself, appeared on her doorstep. What could be a reason for Yingtai to make a surprise visit to her “prodigal” daughter?

The Macbeth - Gloucester

“What did the wise and strict Ladya find in such a sad-sack as Erlolf?” - that is the question which has been puzzling the minds of the upper class even after Ladia’s passing. Can it be true that that stroke of lighting boosted Erlolf’s luck up to 10000%? Can luck be inherited? Ask the brothers, who need to split the inheritance and one of them needs to continue their mother’s legacy. But, all things considered, one of them wants to take MUCH MORE of what is due.

yeha sorry I haven't been particularly active here lately because I worked very hard (and studied at the same time) to FINALLY FINISHED MY PROJECT🎉🎉🎉

The process went faster thanks to my good friends

I hope this month I will be able to give a presave for download, BUT the hood is available so far only in RUS

so until the translation is ready, I will try to make more vv:bs content!