#SEE it sounds weird!!!!! it's so weird!!!! why would you call it that?!???

[do-you-have-a-flag]

text of the above screenshots:

Some further clarification about things people were asking in the comments.

Tina spoke fluent English without an accent. She's either native or has been speaking it since very young.

We'd also spoken early that morning when she arrived, over the phone (woke me up where I was sleeping upstairs, but whatever, I'd rather too much communication than too little), because she wanted to clarify about the squash. She specifically acknowledged the concept of squash, and asked if it was near the kale she was seeing. I said that sounded right, and that it should be labeled. She said okay. I reminded her that if she couldn't find it, to ask my roommate for help.

The rats were on the top shelf of our freezer-top fridge so that you'd have to be leaning down to even see it, and no kale would be in its vicinity. Three people live in this house, so it's always full. Lots of options if you're gonna go rogue.

She didn't know I had snakes, unless she'd seen them in their bins in the living room, which is possible (it looks like a filling cabinet with clear plastic drawers and sometimes they come to the front). They're very quiet pets and don't even count with my landlord, so sometimes I forget to mention them when people ask about pets, as they usually are asking due to allergy concerns. So when the agency asked, I was focused on our cats. They know now, of course. But Tina had no reason to think she should be preparing a pet's meal. That was never established as something among her duties when I met with her and an agency nurse the day before to go over everything.

Also, snakes can't eat cooked meat, even if it's safely prepared. It will make them sick. So they could not still be used.

The discovery: storytime

If you want to see video evidence: investigation

UPDATE (added here since the sub automod was being weird):

Apologies for the late update. As I’m sure you can imagine, the last week was exhausting.

This is just to give what closure I can and go over how my last conversation with Tina went, the day after the incident.

When I was on my way to the cafe to escape the house last Tuesday, she actually texted me with an apology, saying “I’m so sorry, I feel so stupid and bad, this never happened before,” and offering to pay me back for the rats and the dish as I had mentioned the rats were expensive. Which is honestly more than I was expecting, but, “never happened before?” Well I sure fucking hope so! Though that begs the question, why now? Why me? I don’t know if there’s a good answer.

We agreed that she could come by the next day in the evening with the money ($15 for the rats, $30 for the dish). She declined doing Venmo or something similar. Possibly didn’t know how to use things like that, since I estimate by her comment of her grandson being my age, she had to be at minimum in her late 60s, probably older. I admit I was hesitant to have her return to the scene of the crime when it was still so unclear what her motivations had truly been, but I wouldn’t be home alone, and she had seemed sincerely contrite, if a bit defensive over the degree of my outrage.

Before the appointed time, she called me to tell me she was on her way, and then made, of all things, a request of me. She would be bringing by her time sheet, and could I sign for the two days she’d been there? I was baffled. The audacity of asking me a favor when our meeting was about her making amends, claiming that her time with me should count as doing her job, AND implying that her paying me back was to get something from me. Maybe that was why she wanted to do cash?

But at this point, I just wanted the whole thing over and done with, and it’s not like I was the one who’d be paying her, just my insurance. It was also confusing because…did that mean that she was still employed?? Surely if she’d been fired, she’d be less willing to play nice with me, would probably be blaming me more for how it affected her. At the very least, she seemed like the kind of person who would bring it up to make me feel a little bad. But maybe she wouldn’t, I don’t know. It was also strange because out of the three (now four) HHAs I’ve had at two different companies, none have ever asked me to sign a timesheet for them. Maybe some of y’all more familiar with the inner workings of these companies can shed some light here.

I was nervous when she showed up. There's something about seeing someone do something so truly unhinged that shatters the basic trust that this fellow human won’t do something else crazy, maybe something more harmful than running one out of the house. So I checked her hands through the window before I opened the door. She had two plastic bags half-full and bundled up to hide their contents under each arm. Strange choice for a weapon, so I chose faith.

There was no more apology upon greeting, she mostly just seemed in a hurry, civil but brusque, like she wanted this behind her as much as I did. While she was rummaging, I asked how she’d disposed of the dish (the follow-up to I made a video about linked in the original post if you want to see, you sickos). And as expected, the first thing she brought out was her timesheet. Sure enough, there was a place for patient signature, and as I took it and the proffered pen and set it against the doorframe to sign, I said, “We said $45, right?” just to confirm.

The look she gave me as she reached into her jacket was SO offended, and her civility evaporated. Like I was questioning her word, and how dare I. “I’m gonna pay you, I said I would.” Calm down, paranoid, was the tone.

It took all my self-control not to respond with, “You also said you’d cook the squash.” Like, yeah, lady, wonder why I would want to triple check anything we agreed to at this point. My bad.

But she did in fact hand me the wad of bills (after I’d handed back the timesheet and she’d checked it), and then she left in a bit of a huff. I just told her to take care of herself to her back.

At this point, after interacting with her again, I am of the opinion that this was simply from some form of psychosis, either a mental health thing or senility, I don’t know. Even talking to her, things were just a little off. Hard to describe, but it was like part of her attention was always somewhere else. I do not believe this was malicious or “weaponized incompetence” as many were saying in the Tik Tok comments. She had nothing to gain from this, and clearly she wants to keep her job. At this point, after the shock and horror has worn off, I just feel kind of bad for her. She clearly shouldn’t be in this profession (which, btw, she said she’s been in for thirty years??), so I more blame these companies for not being more thorough in their hiring and training process. Psych evals should be par for the course, surely.

And I know I probably shouldn’t have, it’s none of my business, but it was eating at my conscience to not express my concern. Because I don’t know what’s going on in her life. When it comes to things like reality breaks and changes in behavior, it can be really hard to see for ourselves, and maybe the people in her life aren’t saying anything, and so she’s not seeking the help she needs. So I texted her a little while after she left.

I thanked her for taking responsibility, acknowledged I was butting in, and then brought up how she said this had never happened before and how she’d seemed confused about how it happened. And that if this was a new kind of thing or there’d been other weird things happening, it might be a good idea to talk to a doctor, just in case something else is going on that needs to be addressed, as gently and non-judgmentally as I could think to say. And I ended it with “But if I’m way off base and out of line, and you’re just used to people eating like that, I apologize and wish you the best.” After a day of silence, she sent two texts, copied here:

“K thank you people make mistakes”

“God bless have a good day”

That was and I’m sure will remain the last I heard from her. I’m sorry I can’t recount some detailed confession about how it had all been a nefarious plot by some vengeful ex who’d had their aunt impersonate an aide to poison me. That would have made for a much more satisfying story.

As for my current aide situation, I’m still working with the replacement they sent to me, but have already requested a new one. She’s sane and competent, but alas, it would seem she much exaggerated her English fluency to my coordinator (who sounded resigned to such a deceit). In any other service context, I wouldn’t care, we have translator apps, but I think we’ve seen how critical clear and easy communication can be when one person is relying on another to meet their needs while sick. Others have told me how long it can take to find a good fit, so I guess I’ll just have to keep spinning the revolving door until I do.

Also, I have put in a request for the agency to reimburse me the takeout I had to get myself that day. And the oven has been cleaned and sanitized to within an inch of its life and seems okay now? I dunno, asking for a replacement or suing anyone seems like a lot of hassle (especially when I already have a medical malpractice case in the works).

Thank you to everyone for taking an interest in my harrowing experience and for your support. It legitimately turned this into something more light hearted that I can laugh at now, where it would have remained traumatic otherwise.

May your squash always be squash.

§ § ----==---- [🐀🐀🐀]

Text recounting of the full events below but oh my god please watch this person explain the wildest thing happening to them

[image text]r/trueoffmychest post by CptnSpaceCase

Today my aide cooked what should not be cooked

I have to get this out, because today feels like an actual nightmare I keep expecting to wake up from.

I'm disabled, and need help with stuff around the house. Today was the second day with a new agency and new home health aide, "Tina." I set it up so she would come by in the morning while I'm sleeping (insomnia is killer), and I texted her last night what I would need done today.

One of those things was to roast some precut squash I'd gotten so I could have it with my salads and pasta. I was very clear in my instructions: what it looked like, where it was in the fridge, how to use the oven, how to cook it. I also have a roommate who was up and told her she could ask them for help if she couldn't find anything. Or come get me if truly necessary.

Now, I have three pet ball pythons. They eat rats that I thaw from frozen in the fridge in a reusable plastic bag. Yes, that's where I'm going with this.

Tina couldn't find the squash, and so, obviously, that meant she should roast the first other thing she could see that was technically also encased in plastic, in a completely different area of the fridge. The FUCKING RATS. In butter and salt, in my nice baking dish.

And like, that's insane all on its own, but if you're going to cook any animal, you should at least clean and skin it first, right??? Like, do the crazy, disgusting thing properly so I can respect the effort, instead of sticking them in as is. Fur and guts and all.

And the smell. Good God baby Jesus the SMELL. It woke me up and had me gagging the moment I opened my bedroom door. Definitely not squash. Or food-smelling for that matter. At first I thought the squash had spontaneously rotted overnight and she'd tried to cook it anyway. That would have been slightly less insane and much preferable.

I had to pull it out of her what she was cooking instead when she said she couldn't find it (it was in plain sight), had to open the oven and see my snakes' dinners in place of my own and still couldn't process what the fuck was happening, what I was looking at and smelling. I don't like yelling at people and generally avoid it. Today was a day for exceptions. And at the end of my half-crazed, dissociative rant, I told her to get the whole dish and its contents and herself out of the fucking house. And to not come back.

Suffice to say, I've contacted the agency to report it and am requesting a new aide. Now I'm sitting at a cafe trying to calm down and eat something despite the scent memory that's taken up permanent residence and turning my stomach. The whole house reeks like musty, sewage-dipped pork that had been left out for a whole day before being cooked in rancid oil, and I'm not sure Febreeze is gonna cut it. I don't want to go home. 🫠😭

[wqnwoos]

“be honest,” seungcheol says, standing in the doorway of your bedroom with a familiarly sulky expression. “are you breaking up with me?”

the question should take you by surprise, but honestly, you’re more preoccupied with the fact that he’s wearing one of your necklaces, so you don’t really register his words.

instead, you’re spinning on your desk chair, looking up from your work and squinting at his collarbones. “is that my necklace? seungcheol, i’ve been looking for that everywhere!”

immediately, he tucks the gold chain under his t-shirt, pointing at you with an accusing finger. “see, this is how it starts! you’re drawing lines between us! what happened to what’s mine is yours?”

“you took your hoodie off me yesterday,” you retort immediately.

your boyfriend scrunches his nose. “you were wearing that for like, a week straight. i took it off you to wash it.”

now it’s your turn to sulk, your argument stumped. “well, you didn’t tell me that, seungcheol.”

he inhales sharply. “see, now, that’s twice you’ve called me seungcheol.”

“it’s your name!”

“just be honest. where are you hiding the divorce papers?”

“we’re not married!” you can’t decide whether to laugh or not. “i’m not breaking up with you. why would i do that?”

seungcheol gestures vaguely to his laptop in the corner of the room. “your spotify listening history is questionable, alright? you’ve listened to nothing but breakup songs for like, a week.”

you raise your eyebrows at him. “you mean the same week i spent hibernating in your hoodie?”

silence for a beat, before he breaks out into a sheepish smile. you spin your chair back to work as he speaks — “caught me. i just wanted to annoy you.”

“mission accomplished,” you snort, even as he slides his arms around you from behind, leaning down to rest his chin on your shoulder.

“you should take a break,” he hums, pressing a soft kiss to the junction of your neck and shoulder. and another, further up, and another, right against your pulse.

“from what?” you laugh, teasing him lightly: “stalking people’s spotify history?”

he ignores you, but you can feel him rolling his eyes. “let’s eat something. or go somewhere. or both.”

you smile, relenting and leaning back against him. you know him so well. you especially know his subtle ways of getting you to take a break and come back down to earth, and it prompts you to turn your head and catch his lips with a sweet, chaste kiss. pulling apart a little too fast to agree, “yeah. yeah, both sounds good.”

an / it’s literally been like 2 months since i posted something omg. hi <3 sorry it’s very late and i should be asleep so i apologise if this is not coherent. as always not proofread or edited or anything

perm taglist: @n4mj00nvq @eoieopda @som1ig @glowunderthemoon @wondering-out-loud

@tokitosun @hannyoontify @sahazzy @dokyeomin @icyminghao

@smilehui @nicholasluvbot @lvlystars @immabecreepin @hanniehaee

@kokoiinuts @astrozuya @doublasting @yepimthatonequirkyteenager

@qaramu @weird-bookworm @phenomenalgirl9 @lightnjng

@strnsvt @onlyyjeonghan @athanasiasakura

@iamawkwardandshy

@twilghtkoo @yuuyeonie @lllucere @pearlesscentt

@sourkimchi @porridgesblog @ourkivee

[tortillamastersblog]

Back To You - Part 3 | Sam Carpenter

Pairing: Sam Carpenter x reader

Warnings: mentions of violence, death, blood, injuries, and swearing

Summary: When Sam left after turning eighteen, you were devastated. You’d been in love with her since you were kids and her leaving meant you never got to tell her how you truly felt.

Fast forward a couple of years, Tara gets attacked and Sam returns. . .

Previous Part | Next Part | Masterlist

_______________________________________________

“I’ve got a body outside a bar on Main, and then you get attacked here.” Sheriff Hicks almost sounds accusing as she looks at Sam while speaking. “You said the call came from Amber’s number?”

Sam nods faintly, a distant look in her eyes. She’s been like this ever since she and Richie came back into Tara’s room, and even though I know I shouldn’t be, I’m worried.

Not only did she almost get killed, she’s also got something on her mind that’s upsetting her. I know because she’s got that telltale crinkle of hers in her eyebrows.

“So?” Amber pipes up next to me. She came in a couple of minutes ago with Sheriff Hicks. “We know he called on my phone before when he attacked Tara.”

True, but it’s still a little weird. Why wouldn’t he just use a burner phone to make the calls?

I glance at Tara to see what she thinks about all this, but she’s just looking back and forth between Amber and Hicks, fear and uncertainty written all over her face. First she was attacked and now Sam.

Who’s going to be next?

“Or, and I’m just spit-balling here. . . You’re the killer,” Richie says and even though I neither like, nor trust him, I have to admit, he’s got a point.

Offended, Amber crosses her arms and stares at him incredulously. She looks like she’s about to say something to defend herself, but then Sheriff Hicks beats her to it.

She turns to him and narrows her eyes. “And where were you wenn all of this happened?”

Richie falters slightly and I can see him tighten his grip around Sam’s hand which he’s been holding ever since they came in. “I was. . . watching Netflix.”

I roll my eyes and sigh. Of course he was, how convenient. . .

Seemingly reading my mind, Amber scoffs and says, “Ooh, yeah. Super solid alibi, bro.”

“So, where were you?” He fires back. Then, he looks at me with raised eyebrows. “And what about you? Hmm? You just so happened to walk around the corner right after Sam was attacked?”

I stiffen and it takes everything in me not to walk around Tara’s bed and slap him. How dare he? I would never try to hurt Sam, or Tara for that matter. I can barely even kill bugs because I feel sorry for them, so how could I possibly hurt another human being like that?

“Excuse me?” My voice is low and dangerous and the only thing that stops me from snapping is Tara who grabs a hold of my sleeve. “How would I even do that? I’m injured, and I literally just got back to the hospital.”

Richie snorts. “So you say, but you wouldn’t be the first psychotic killer to fake getting hurt to divert suspicion from yourself.”

Fury pulses through my veins, but I don’t move or speak. Tara’s grip on my sleeve tightens and much to my relief, Sheriff Hicks comes to my defense while Sam continues to stare vacantly at a spot on the opposite wall.

“It wasn’t Y/N, or Amber,” she states. “Surveillance footage shows Y/N entering the hospital during the time of the attack, and it was’t Amber because I was questioning her and her friends at the sheriff’s station.”

I give her a thankful nod and place my hand over Tara’s, silently telling her that I’m not going to lash out.

“Yeah,” Amber says, leveling Richie with a glare. “I came as soon as I heard, but, you know, the Netflix alibi is good, too.”

I must admit, Amber and I never really clicked for whatever reason, but right now, she’s my favorite person.

Sheriff Hicks lets out an exasperated sigh and hands Amber her phone back. “Okay, both of you, stop it.”

“You’re going to put more cops on her room, right?”Sam’s voice takes me by surprise.

Tara glances at her sister and then back Hicks while Amber and Richie continue glaring at each other.

“Yes.” The sheriff’s face softens. “And I can move you to a private floor. Deputy Vinson knows what he’s doing, you’ll be safe.”

That last part seems to have been the wrong thing to say because Sam bristles. “Like we’ve been so far?”

Oh dear. . .

The air in the room shifts and I bite the inside of my cheek, waiting for Sheriff Hicks’s reaction.

I know Sam can be short tempered and people usually dismiss it, but I fear this time she might have crossed a line. Sheriff Hicks is only trying to help, and Sam questioning said help isn’t doing anyone any good.

“Samantha, let’s step outside.” The tight lipped smile on the sheriff’s face makes me cringe and be thankful I’m not on the receiving end of it.

Sam clenches her jaw and looks at all of us for a moment before getting up and leaving the room with Sheriff Hicks.

Not even a minute later she returns, alone, and stands by the open door with a defeated look on her face. “Well, she remains a delight. . .”

I can’t help the way my lips twitch in slight amusement, and when Sam’s eyes meet mine, a bitter sweet smile briefly tugs at her lips.

“Are you okay?” Tara asks, putting an end to our little . . . moment?

Sam’s eyes dart to Richie, Amber, and then back to me. “Uh, actually. Would you mind giving us a second? I need to talk to Tara.”

“Of course,” I say quietly, squeezing Tara’s hand reassuringly. “I’ll be outside if you need anything.”

She smiles softly and let’s go of my sleeve, watching Amber, Richie and me file out of the room before Sam closes the door behind us.

“So, you’re a fan of the Hawks?” Deputy Vinson asks when I run into him outside the bathroom.

“What? Oh.” I look down when he points at my hockey sweater. “Yes, kind of. I’m on the team.”

“Really?” He smiles.

“Yeah, but I don’t play professionally yet because I’m currently working on getting my Masters degree,” I explain.

Vinson lets out an impressed whistle. “Nice. So, you’re planning on playing professionally once you’re done?”

I shrug. “That’s the plan, yes, but we’ll see what happens.”

He nods and smiles. “Good for you.”

“Thanks.” I smile back and point my thumb over my shoulder. “I should go. Tara might need something and I think I forgot my phone in her room.”

He nods again and ushers me to get going. I chuckle and turn to leave, feeling my smile drop a moment later when I round the corner and see Richie standing at the door to Tara’s room, clearly listening to what’s being said inside.

“Hey!”

He flinches and steps away from the door, his eyes widening when he sees me.

“What are you doing? Are you eavesdropping?” I know the question is unnecessary, because he clearly is, but I want to make him squirm.

He takes another step back and raises his hands defensively. “What? No, of course not.”

I continue walking toward him, closing the distance between us until we’re almost toe to toe. We’re the same height, so I can’t say I’m looking down when I level him with a challenging stare, yet he seems to be shrinking in on himself the longer I stare at him.

“I was just— I wasn’t,” he stutters, trying to explain himself, but then a shout from inside the room cuts him off.

“Get the fuck out!”

Tara.

A second later the door opens and Sam comes out with tears streaming down her face. She winces when she sees Richie and me and quickly wipes at her eyes while trying to suppress a sob.

What happened in there?

The look on her face and the tears in her eyes remind me of the night eleven years ago when she snuck into my room. I still don’t know why she did it back then, but I have a feeling it’s related to whatever just happened between her and Tara.

Unlike that night eleven years ago though, I don’t make a move to comfort her. Not necessarily because I don’t want to, I do and don’t at the same time, but because Richie beats me to it.

He pulls Sam into a hug and looks at me over her shoulder, daring me to continue my interrogation from before. And even though I would love to do nothing more than just that, I drop it and slip into the room.

If Sam is this upset, there’s a good chance Tara’s not doing any better either, and when I see her, sitting in her bed with her own tears streaming down her cheeks, I’m proven right.

I close the door behind me and quickly make my way to the bed, sitting down next to her and wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

“Hey, it’s going to be okay,” I whisper when she moves closer and buries her face in my shoulder. “You’ll be okay.”

“No. . .” She whimpers and hugs my waist. “Sam. . . She- She—“

“You don’t have to tell me what happened.” I cut her off, but she shakes her head.

“N-No, I do. You have to know,” she says, her voice muffled by our embrace.

I raise an eyebrow even though she can’t see it and ask, “Know what?”

Tara shudders and tightens her arms around me. “Billy Loomis is Sam’s real dad.“

Five years ago

“There you go, buddy. Sleep tight.” I laugh when Liam groans and buries his face in his pillow. He called me half an hour ago to pick him up from a party because Paige is sleeping at her girlfriend’s tonight and he didn’t want to bother her.

“Thank youuu, I love you,” he slurs and I just pat him on the back.

“I love you, too, dude.“ I go to the kitchen and fill a glass of water before returning to his room and placing it on his nightstand next to some painkillers. “Get some rest. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” he mumbles again and then he’s out like a light.

I leave the apartment, locking the front door, and get into my car to start the short drive home.

It’s almost one in the morning, and I’m exhausted, but I’m glad Liam called me instead of driving home himself.

Yes it’s late, and yes, I’m tired, but I couldn’t have lived with myself if anything had happened to him if he’d gotten into his car, drunk, and gotten into an accident.

My parents woke up when I was on my way out, asking where I was going and when I told them, they simply told me to drive safely before going back to bed.

Now, I’m almost back home, and I can practically already feel the warm embrace of my bed again, but then I spot something that makes my heart stop.

Stumbling along the side walk with a man hot on her heels is Sam. The man keeps grabbing her arm, saying something, and she keeps brushing him off, obviously uncomfortable.

Her movements are uncoordinated and I hate the fact that I know why.

She’s high again.

Without thinking, I drive past them and pull over, stopping the car on the side walk right in front of them.

“Hey! Take a hike, dude,” I say, getting out of the car.

Sam and the man both come to a halt and stare at me. Sam barely even registers what’s going on, her glassy eyes staring right through me while the man scoffs and steps up to me.

“Mind your own business,” he growls. He seems to be in his thirties, has a buzz cut, and has a tattoo of a tiny rose on his temple.

“Sorry— No can do, pal,” I say calmly, trying not to cringe at the smell of alcohol on his breath. “She’s my friend, and you’re bothering her, so leave.”

“Or what?” he asks, smirking and revealing his chipped front tooth.

I sigh. “Or we’re going to have a problem.”

“Yeah?” He laughs and shoves me slightly. “What are you going to do, kid? Hmm? Call your parents? Or—“

My fist connects with his jaw, and a second later he’s on the ground, unconscious.

Was that a bit of an overreaction? Maybe. But did he deserve it? Definitely.

“Y/N!” Sam gapes at me. “W-What did you do?”

Even though she’s high, she doesn’t seem to have lost all of her ability to think straight. She sways on her feet and goes to crouch down next to the man, but I wrap my arms around her waist from behind and pull her back up.

“Come on, let’s get you home,” I say. She smells like alcohol, too, and I don’t even want to imagine the amount of drugs and alcohol she’s consumed tonight.

“No,” she slurs, weakly clawing at my arms. “I don’t— I don’t wanna go home. I wanna go— I wanna go with Josh.”

“Josh?” I ask. “You know that guy?”

“No— I mean, yes a little. He bought me a drink and—”

“He was trying to take advantage of you!” I argue, not letting go of her.

“No, he wasn’t!” she shouts and I cringe, hoping no one wakes up and looks out of their window because of her.

We’re in a quiet neighborhood, and I’m almost certain if someone saw us right now, they’d call the cops because they think I’m trying to kidnap her.

And I wouldn’t even blame them for it, because it definitely looks like it, but I’m really just trying to help.

This isn’t the first time I’ve taken her home after finding her high, and even though I’m used to the protest she puts up, the next thing she says catches me off guard.

“You always ruin everything, Y/N!”

I freeze and try not to let it get to my head, but her words tug at my heart painfully.

She doesn’t mean it. She doesn’t know what she’s saying.

I swallow the growing lump in my throat and loosen my hold on her a little. “Come on, Sam. I don’t want to fight. Just get in the car.”

Much to my surprise, a moment later, the fight leaves her body and she wordlessly let’s me lead her to the car.

I open the passenger door and help her in, making sure to put her seatbelt on before closing the door again and rounding the front of the car to get to the driver’s side.

As I open the door, the man, Josh, starts to regain consciousness. He groans and twists on the ground, making me roll my eyes.

Pathetic.

I know he’ll be fine since I didn’t hit him that hard, so I get in the car and pull back onto the road, leaving him behind just as he’s getting back up.

“I hate you,” Sam whispers a minute later. Her voice sounds clearer than before and the venom lacing her words makes me believe she actually means it.

She’s said it before, especially the first few times I picked her up from a party, but she’s never said it like this before.

It’s okay. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that she’s safe.

There’s a big chance she won’t even remember saying it tomorrow morning, but I know I will.

Neither one of us says anything else while I drive until I pull up next to the curb by our houses.

Seeing Christina Carpenter’s car in Sam’s driveway, I figure it’s not the best idea to drag her up to their front door and ring the doorbell, so I take her to my house after helping her out of the car.

She’s back to being completely high, head lolling from side to side and steps totally uncoordinated, so as soon as we get inside, I pick her up and carry her up to my room.

I expected her to protest, to tell me to put her down immediately, but she doesn’t. Instead she wraps her arms around my neck and holds onto me while I carry her.

“Alright, here we go,” I whisper when we make it to my room. I’m not afraid of waking my parents because they’d understand why I brought Sam here instead of taking her home, but I don’t want them to worry, so I try to stay as quiet as possible.

It turns out, opening a door with a whole ass person in my arms is more of a challenge than I thought, but I eventually manage to get it open, stepping inside and closing it behind us again with a soft click.

“‘M tired,” Sam mumbles, her fingers curling around the fabric of my jacket.

“Yeah, I bet,” I say quietly, feeling my own exhaustion wash over me. “Just a little longer, then you can sleep.”

I gently place her on the bed and take off her shoes before pulling the comforter out from underneath her.

“Do you need anything else? Something to drink? A sweater,” I ask, but Sam doesn’t answer. She has her eyes closed and it looks like she’s already asleep. When I move to sleep on my couch on the other side of the room though, her hand shoots out and she grabs my wrist.

“Just you.”

I hesitate and try to ignore the way my skin tingles where she’s touching me.

I hate you.

The memory of her words stings and makes my heart ache, but then she opens her eyes and looks at me pleadingly.

It’s the kind of look she always uses when she wants something from me, so a moment later, I cave and slowly slip into bed next to her.

“Thank you,” she whispers and the sincerity with which she says it makes tears well up in my eyes.

First she says she hates me, then she asks me to sleep in the same bed with her.

I’m so confused and exhausted, it hurts, and I don’t know how much longer I can endure this emotional roller coaster.

She changed after that night six years ago when she snuck into my room, and at first I thought it was just a phase, but then her dad left and as time went on, she pulled away more and more, avoiding me until, eventually, she started drinking and doing drugs.

There are moments where her old self shines through, like last week, when we had a movie night with Tara and my parents, but those moments are rare and these days, they’re basically nonexistent.

“Y/N?”

I freeze, her sleepy voice bringing me back to reality.

“Yes?” I hold my breath, waiting for her to continue, but she never doesn’t. “Sam?”

I turn my head to look at her in the darkness and exhale shakily when I realize she’s asleep. I admire her soft features for a moment, taking note of how grown up she looks now that she’s turned eighteen, and tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. Then, I drop my hand on the mattress in the space between us and sigh.

“Good night, Sammy.”

The next morning when I wake up, I’m not surprised to find that she’s gone, just like that time when she snuck into my room.

I figure it’s probably best to give her some space, and let her deal with whatever she’s dealing with, but then, two days later, Tara calls me crying, and tells me Sam has left.

_______________________________________________

Tag list: @bella423 @artrizzler19 @btay3115 @canyonyodeler @quadofthec

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hello, I hope that I'm not too late for a small request for the NRC family interaction. But still do want to ask for a req for Azul Ashengrotto and Jamil Vipver to interact with Najma Viper. I could already imagine how chaotic it would be already.

Oml, Jamil’s worst nightmare would be if Najma developed a crush on Azul 😭 He would so go protective big brother mode… I didn’t decide to do that for this interaction though, it’s just a funny thought I had.

Family means Nobody is Left Behind or Forgotten.

“Oya, is that my dear friend Jamil-san over there?”

That voice. That ever-so grating voice, trilling out his name so sweetly. Immediately, Jamil wished to retreat into his hoodie like a turtle to a shell and die there.

Alas, he could do no such thing—not when he was trapped among several milling bodies, his younger sister in tow. Najma had heard and glanced over her shoulder. She locked eyes with the approaching octopus and arched an eyebrow as she tugged on her brother’s sleeve.

“Hmm? Hey, Jamil. There’s a guy in glasses headed this way and waving. It sounds like he wants your attention,” she pointed out.

“I know,” he hissed back, already starting to powerwalk away from Azul. And that’s just what I’m afraid of.

“Aren’t you going to at least say hi? It’d be rude to straight up ignore him.”

Jamil internally cursed. All that nagging from their parents about etiquette and how to show hospitality had been well and truly drilled into him as well as into her. Now it came back to bite him like a loose snake where it smarted the most.

“Please. He isn’t worth my breath—or the trouble.”

“Jamil-san! Please wait.”

To his dismay, Najma stopped dead in her tracks. “I really think you should greet him before you go.”

He gaped at her. “You’re joking.”

“Sevens, why are you being so weird about this?” She rolled her eyes. Then, cupping her hands around her mouth, she called out to Azul. Jamil’s stomach sank. “H~eeeeey! Jamil onii-chan’s friend! It’s nice to meet you. I’m his adorable little sister, Najma.”

He frowned. “Since when am I Jamil onii-chan? And since when are you my adorable little sister?”

“Since now,” she muttered back.

“Ahhh, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” Azul crooned. He took Najma’s hand and shook it. “Azul Ashengrotto, at your service. I’m a classmate of your brother’s, as well as dorm leader of Octavinelle and manager of the student-run on-campus eatery, Mostro Lounge.”

“Oh, wow!! That sounds so cool.”

“He’s humble bragging,” Jamil said flatly, folding his arms. “… What do you want, Azul?”

“Is that any way to greet your beloved bosom buddy?” He sighed, shrugging his hands up. “I only wanted to check in with you and make sure that you were enjoying Family Day.”

“Don’t say that. It’s disgusting—and patently false.”

Jamil’s eyes sharpened into pointed daggers. He’s surely sniffing around for weak points. If he cannot glean them from me, then he intends to pry those secrets from Najma. I won’t allow that to come to pass.

He gripped his little sister’s hand tightly and tugged on it. “I believe this concludes the obligatory pleasantries. Come along, Najma. We must get going to our next meeting.”

“Boo, you’re no fun,” she pouted, yanking back. “You’d seriously rather go to a boring old meeting than chat with a friend?”

“Don’t be difficult. You’re not visiting to make social calls, you’re here on business.”

“But you’re not attempting to socialize at all. Geez, you’re not putting anything you learned at home to practice, are you?”

“I am plenty!! I’m just selective about where and when to apply those teachings—as should you.”

“What a deep bond you have with your sister, Jamil-san. You fuss over her like a mother hen,” Azul chuckled, pushing his glasses up. “Why, as an only child, it warms my heart to see this kind of camaraderie. I shall have to commit this to memory.”

A heart? he scoffed. A cold, slimy one, perhaps.

Jamil shot Azul a frigid glare. “Do NOT.”

“Oh? But what is so wrong with appreciating a tender moment of bickering between siblings? It’s something I could never hope to experience myself.”

“Yeah, yeah, Jamil! You’re so totally being mean to your classmate for no good reason. Don’t you feel any shame?”

“Are you taking his side in this?!” he demanded of his sister.

“So what if I am?”

“My, my, Najma-san!” Azul suddenly wedged himself between the Vipers like an octopus slipping into the crack of a rock. His smile was annoyingly broad and simpering. “It seems that you and I are kindred spirits.”

“Yup! Looks like we are,” Najma agreed, an equally unsettling smile creeping onto her face.

Jamil paled. I don’t like where this is going…

“Then it is clear what we must do.”

“Yeah, it’s so obvious.”

They both turned to Jamil. The dread in his stomach spiked, hitting his peak, then sailed past it. He could feel his blood pressure shooting up too.

“We should bully him!”

[hedwig221b]

Witch or magical Stiles recs..?

Hi! I did magical!Stiles fic recs here! This time, let's focus on witch!Stiles (my beloved)

A Thousand Fiery Suns of Angst - Just Press Play by apocryphal

All Stiles wants from life is to learn to control his magic, keep his grades up, and not die horribly while saving Beacon Hills from supernatural threats. It's all going pretty well until Derek Hale, werewolf extraordinaire, has to go and ask him on a date. That asshole.

The Wolf in the Tower by exclamation

Too many people are scared of witches so when Stiles accidentally sets a building on fire with magic, he is taken prisoner and dragged before Lord Hale. Rather than leave an untrained magic user free, Peter Hale thinks he might be able to make use of Stiles' skills and hands Stiles over to his sorceror Deaton to be trained. Stiles is still unsure about his future, but he's even more confused when he finds out that one of his new duties involves feeding the black wolf imprisoned at the top of one of the towers. There's something very strange about this wolf and Stiles can't help wondering if magic might be involved.

Dead Things by standinginanicedress

Derek blows some more smoke out. He chooses to look at Stiles’ mouth instead of in his eyes, again. “I need you to bring someone back.” “Back.” “From the dead.” “Absolutely not,” Stiles scoffs, shaking his head. “Not for you, not for all the money in the world.” Derek looks at him, just looks. He is not going to accept no for an answer, and Stiles knows it, but it doesn’t matter, because Stiles will not do that. He cannot do that, not again. “Why not for me in specific?”

For My Flesh Had Turned to Fur, and My Thoughts Had Turned to You by literaryoblivion

They’ve known about the other pack for quite some time now. They know the pack is young and small, formed together more by accident and necessity than anything else. But, they haven’t done anything about them because they’ve been fairly quiet, kept to themselves, and haven’t caused any trouble. That is until the Hales start hearing rumors about the McCall pack acquiring a very young and inexperienced but powerful witch. So Alpha Hale sends her eldest son, Derek, for all intents and purposes, to spy on the McCall pack and their so-called witch, to see what the truth of the situation is.

The Ink Under My Skin by rainsoakedshoes

Derek is looking for an Emissary. What he finds is Stiles Stilinski; resident witch. Stiles would do whatever it takes to protect the Hale pack and his Alpha. “I want to protect my pack as well as I can,” Derek continued. “Emissaries traditionally keep balance, having someone who wants to tip the odds in our favour may come in handy.”

Destiny is the Rising Sun by asswords

Stiles and Derek are best at keeping secrets – the biggest one being the fact that they knew each other long before Scott had to go and become a werewolf. (The second biggest secret belongs to Stiles, something about how he’s not allowed to tell Derek he’s the trusted advisor and kind of a witch.)

your fangs against my skin (the sound of your bones)

This was it, then, huh? It was that easy for Derek to invite someone to his den. Someone other than Stiles. He healed the wolf. Stiles killed his tormentor, mended his blood and bones, and let him sleep beside him. But none of it was enough. He wasn’t a spark, after all, but a witch — evil and alone, locked up in his tower. Witches didn’t get happy endings.

What I Did On My Summer Vacation by grimm

There's something weird about Beacon Hills that Stiles can't quite put his finger on. The way everyone in town knows his name the day he arrives. The way they insist the melancholic howling that echoes through the forest every night is just a dog. The way his dad denies getting a dog, even though Stiles comes home to find one sprawled across his bed, some big black thing whose eyes gleam red in the right light. The way that massive oak tree out in the woods vibrates under his touch, pulsing with sickly life. There's something weird going on in this town, and Stiles is determined to get to the bottom of it.

These Scars Tell A Story (But It’s Not Mine) by HappyJuicyfruit

Derek’s eyes widened in confusion as Stiles babbled at him. “I know it’s not up to you, but you’re like, my guard, right? You’ve been keeping an eye on me? Tell your mom I wouldn’t lie about this, my dad deserves to stay here. He’s happy here, please let him stay!” Guard? Keeping an eye on him? “Stiles, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Stiles face crumpled, his hands clung to Derek’s shirt tighter as tears and snot dripped off his chin. Derek frantically tries to think of the right thing to say. “You think- you think I’m your guard? That I’ve been watching you to, what, make sure you don’t do any magic? Stiles, that’s ridiculous. Beacon Hills is a sanctuary for supernaturals. We allow people to use their magic. I was just trying to be your friend.” Stiles breath hitched. “My friend?”

Other fic recs: pack mom!Stiles | angsty fics | historical AU | baby/mpreg | outsider POV | possessive Derek | smut | hurt/comfort | Stiles gets kicked out of the pack | mafia | BAMF!Stiles | omegaverse

[misspelledwordswizard]

I understand that fairies like bright colors or objects, Since we always say that Hyrule is part fairy, imagine having something shiny in your hand and the poor boy, with his pupils enlarged like a cat on catnip, can't stop looking at the object as you slowly move it back and forth between here and there, entertained by the way our fairy boy follows it with his eyes

arkdkska I love fairy Hyrule, I loved writing this, thanks for the request!!

Fairy thing

The boy’s eyes moved rhythmically as the necklace swung, fixated on the movement, unable to notice anything else that was happening around him. He almost seemed to be fighting against it, but if that were true then he had already lost this battle a long time ago. My lips twitched instinctively as I watched him with almost as much focus as he was looking at the object in my hands.

I didn’t do it out of malice. It was just a tragic coincidence. We were talking quietly while not everyone else was awake. Naturally, since it was early in the morning, those who were already up were organizing themselves to speed up when we got back on the trail. In my case, I was finishing equipping accessories like belts, putting my sword and shield on my back, and even putting on my golden necklace that I sometimes wear. But, it just so happened that I was talking to Hyrule while I was doing this. I had no idea this could happen, at first I thought it was some kind of weird joke coming from him, until no matter how many times I called him, he couldn’t answer me, not coherently at least, being much more interested in the shiny object swinging. It didn’t take long for me to associate this with the Traveler’s fae side. This, though, was something I didn’t know much about, but I’d heard a few things about faeries, such as their fondness for shiny things, which seemed almost confirmed by this.

I was going to get it out of his sight as quickly as possible when I realized it, but he seemed so adorable like this. I know, a little cruel, but it didn’t really seem to bother him, maybe I should give it to him later as na apology. Do faeries hoard golden things like dragons? It would be curious to see.

— Rulie, what were you talking about? About using monster parts in meals. – I asked, testing how active his brain was.

— I... talking... – He tried, but couldn’t even form a coherent sentence.

— Do you like that?

— ... Yes

I had to hold back a laugh. Okay, maybe it was really a little cruel. But it is indeed interesting, this whole fascination of his for shiny things. I think now I’ll have to start saving all the similar things I find to give to him. I wonder what other things about fairies are correct, does he like sweets? Does he burn himself with iron? When he’s talking in his fairy form does it sound like a bell?

— Rulie, what do you like? – I tried again.

— Shiny things... – He answered, still focused.

— What else?

— I like you...

The pendulum movement I was making with the necklace stopped in surprise. I couldn’t tell if he was being sincere or if this necklace thing was really starting to affect his poor brain, but it was enough to make my face hot as hell. I figured it was best to stop this.

— What’s going on? Why does the Traveler look so silly? – The Captain’s voice caught my attention, making me look away from the fairy boy.

— Oh, I think he likes shiny things. A little too much.

— And you’re using that against him? How cruel. – Wars replied in a mocking tone.

— Yeah, I’m stopping, that really was a bad idea. – I concluded, looking away to hide my blush.

I picked up the necklace, leaving it completely out of Hyrule’s sight, and I could see, out of the corner of my eye, him blinking rapidly, regaining consciousness. I intended to apologize, of course. For a moment I thought he didn’t remember what he had said, but then he stopped for a moment in pure shock, and his face became even redder than mine. His nervousness became visible as he began to move away and stutter, looking for na excuse to get out of there.

— Look, I’m... I’m going to help Time! Excuse me! – I saw him say blushing as he walked away. He definitely knows what he said.

— Geez, what’s came over him? – Wars asked, curious about the possible gossip. I shrugged, trying to avoid my own embarrassment.

— It must be a fairy thing.

[tartrat]

Unnamed Coaches' Name Headcanons!

Random unnamed coaches and the names I’ve given them. I decided it would be funny if i gave each quotes and quests. I also just gave them all the classic rarity because it would've looked weird without. theres 9 maps and 10 coaches.

1. Freed From Desire: Garnet. I mentioned this in my other drawing of her. I just felt like her being named after a gemstone was fitting, like she just has that air to her. The gemstone itself is believed to bring emotional balance and self confidence, which i think fits with the map.

2. All The Stars: Vega. A while ago I was thinking about avatars for other coaches and I remembered her. Vega is one of the brightest stars in the night sky. maybe she comes from a long line of coaches who use the stars, so she was named after one of the brightest. Side note but i accidentally gave her robes the beta colours, they should be like a purple instead of red.

3 & 4. Love Story: Just straight up Romeo and Juliet. I thought about giving them names that are similar to Romeo and Juliet, but realistically that's what they would be named. I just wanted to draw both of them since Love story is one of my favourite 2022 maps.

5. Blinding Lights extreme: Jayyce Sway but friends and family call him Jayy. I can’t get the idea of him being Talia Sway’s father and him settling down in Wasterra out of my head, plus "Sway" as a last name just sounds futuristic to me. Jayyce is just a corruption of "Jace" that i thought would look futuristic with two ys. I just think he's cool and would be a great father. (you can't really see it but he is smiling here)

6. Giddy On Up: Belle. Another map i miss, its just really fun trying to do those high kicks. Other names i was thinking for her were Andrea and Laura ( after Laura Bell Bundy), but neither sounded country enough for her. Then i thought Annabelle, which i then shortened down to Belle.

7. Follow the White Rabbit: Allison. I didn't want to just straight up call her Alice, unlike how i just gave the love story coaches Romeo and Juliet. Originally i was thinking of spelling it as Alicyn but then went against that. But also it sounds like "Alice In" as in "Alice in Wonderland". Also i know that its the rabbit who says "I'm late!" twice but the quote i was originally giving her didn't really make sense. I rushed this one because intitialy she was in the same pose as one of the gold moves from FTWR but it looked too weird and i wanted to move on. She looks shocked here, i don't want to think about this drawing anymore.

8. John Cena: Jeanne Cena. this is just like the John Wayne coach all over again. You’d pronounce Jeanne like John. It was the obvious choice, and I also just wanted an excuse to draw her. Doubt you'll need her name if you can't even see her in the first place. One of my favourite maps, its just so good.

9. Levitating Extreme: Aster. I was thinking along the lines of Astro for some reason, then the name Aster kept popping up in my head. Turns out Aster means "star" and is also a type of purple flower that is star shaped. Given the space imagery from his background it makes sense.Definitely the type to not tell you his name because he sees no point because he thinks he's disposable (as if Si'ha Nova ever gets attacked).

10. Buscando Extreme: Jacques. I don't know why but he looks french to me, then the name just stuck because i couldn't think of anything else. One of my favourite extremes, at some point in early 2021 i somehow knew most of it off by heart. also i like to think of him as the father of the coach from the classic version. At some point all the male 2021 extremes i'm just going to headcanon as the father of another coach.

-

So this is what i've been working on. I mentioned the love story, Giddy on up and Blinding lights extreme coaches in previous posts because i was doing this lol.

i did it in the order of JC - BLE - FFD - LE - ATS - FTWR - GOU -BE - LSTV. By the point i got to Buscando extreme i was getting tired of doing this so he along side the love story coaches look fucked up. Given that it was my first time drawing some of them, i didn't really think that they'd look good, since i'm not used to drawing them. But it was good to draw coaches that i haven't drawn before, and draw the ones i have already drawn, again.

I have other things i want to draw next, there's a map concept in my drafts that i want to actually draw so that will probably be my next fanart post.

[dira333]

Pumpkin Spice - Mirio x Reader - Baby Series (part 1?)

- 6 weeks -

“Hey Pumpkin,” you greet Eri as she walks up to you. “Did you have a nice day at school?”

“Yeah,” she hugs you tight. “Do you know about Periods?”

You fight the laugh that wants to bubble out. “Woman’s periods?”

“Mhm.”

“Course I know them. Did you learn about it at school?”

“Yeah, I mean, no, I mean…” She halts for a moment. “Dad told me that I might have them soon and my friend got hers this week.” Eri pulls up her shoulders to her ears, lets the words taper off. You get it nonetheless.

“Mhm, they come different for everyone. I got mine super late.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I think I was the last in my friend group or class to get it. That just happens sometimes. How about we stop at the drugstore on the way home and look at the different supplies? Or did your Dad do that with you already?”

“He bought me some things,” Eri blushes a soft pink. “It was a little embarrassing.”

“I get that. My Dad was never good at talking about this stuff either. But he bought me a little pink trash can for the bathroom, just for my period stuff. I thought that was kind of sweet.”

She takes your hand. “I like that. Do you think Dad would buy me a purple one?”

“If you asked, sure.”

- - -

- 12 weeks - 

“Hey Pumpkin,” you smile as she wraps her arms around you. “You seem excited.”

“I got an A in Algebra,” Eri tells you proudly. “I got the most points.”

“Oh, that’s great. Do you want to get some sweets on the way home?”

“Can we?” She beams up at you, hopeful as always.

“For sure. Just don’t tell Mirio about it, or he wants some too.”

Eri presses her pointer finger over her lips and giggles when you wink at her.

“What kind of sweet treat do you want?”

“I don’t know,” she swings your joined arms as you walk. “What do you like?”

“Uh,” you hesitate for a second. “That sounds weird, maybe, but I’d love some pickles with Vanilla Ice cream.”

“Yuck,” she pulls a face before hesitating. “Wait, is it good?”

“Well, I think so, but Mirio thinks it’s disgusting. Speaking of him, we’ve got a surprise for you.”

“Oh?” She turns, excitement on her face.

“Yeah,” you smile and stretch out your hand to tuck a strand of grey hair behind her ear. “What do you know about babies?”

“Well, many babies are called pups. A dog baby, a fox baby, even a shark baby.”

“That’s true. What do you know about a human baby?”

Eri hesitates for a moment as she thinks. “They need nine months to grow?”

“Correct again. Do you know any human babies?”

“Not really. Our English teacher got pregnant but I didn’t get to meet her baby.”

“What would you say to me having a baby?”

She stops dead in her tracks. “Right now?”

You laugh. “Well, it takes nine months to grow, so I’m not popping it out right now, but yes, I’m pregnant right now.”

Astonished, she looks at your belly. “It’s in there already?”

“Yeah,” you pull your shirt a little tighter so the faint outline of a bump is visible. “He or she is pretty tiny right now. About as big as a plum.”

Eri’s hands press gently against your lower belly and she looks as if she could see it right now, the little plum-sized being growing inside.

“Is it going to be my brother or sister?” She asks. “O-or my cousin?”

“That’s a good question. What do you think?”

“I’m older,” Eri points out, not letting go of you. You caress her hair, let her feel the gentleness of your affection. “I think I should be the aunty now.”

“That’s a nice idea,” you lean down to press a kiss to her forehead. “You’re going to be Aunty Eri.”

- - -

- 16 weeks - 

“I’m home!” You call out from the door over the noise of loud music and clattering of dishes.

Eri shrieks and turns the corner, running into you at full speed.

“Hello to you too,” you laugh, hugging her back. “Why are you covered in flour?”

“I can explain!” Mirio exclaims, rounding the corner as well to pull you into a hug. “Cookies are a lot harder to make than we thought.”

“You made cookies without me?” You ask, leaning up to kiss him before emphasizing the pout. “What have I done to deserve that?”

“We tried making cookies,” Eri emphasizes from where she’s pressed against you, face squished against your growing belly. “Hi, little one. How big is he or she now?”

“As big as an avocado. Apparently they’re able to pull faces now, so they could be smiling at you.”

“Really?” Eri pulls back in the tight space to squint at your belly. “How would you tell?”

“Sadly, I don’t have x-ray vision.”

“You’d need ultrasound vision for that, honey,” Mirio corrects you. “Do you wanna lay down?”

“No,” you free yourself from their grip and put your bag down. “I’m gonna save those cookies. Who’s with me on the rescue mission?”

Both of them raise their hands.

- - -

- 20 weeks

“Hey Pumpkin!” You wave at Eri and she pulls away from her friends with one last hug before running over.

“Hey Aunty!” She hugs you tight, dropping a kiss onto your ever-growing belly. “Hello there! What size are you now?”

“Little one is about as big as a banana now.” You pat your belly gently. It’s not the most pronounced bulge, but it’s there. “I’m mostly off Patrol for now, so you’ll notice that Mirio is a little calmer.”

“I’m curious to see how that looks,” Eri jokes, gripping your hand. “Did they tell you the gender yet?”

“Well, they found out, but they haven’t told us. Instead, we got an envelope and we gave that to a baker. Today we’re picking up the cake.”

“They put the envelope in a cake?”

“No,” you laugh. “They looked inside and filled the cake with colored filling. Blue for a boy and pink for a girl.”

“And what does the outside look like?”

“Well,” you swing your joined hands. “Usually it’s white or neutral in some way, but we wanted it to be green and purple, so we got that.”

“I love purple,” Eri grins up at you.

“What, really?” You joke, which is even more hilarious given her all-purple outfit today.

“Really really,” she emphasizes before she tells you all about the annoying boy in her class and what her best friend is up to.

-

- a few hours later -

-

“Uncle Tamaki!” Eri is quick to rope him into the middle of it all, despite Tamaki’s best efforts to stay on the sidelines. “We’re making a video. What do you think the gender will be?”

“I, uh, I’m not sure-”

“You don’t have to be on camera if you don’t want to,” you assure him, squeezing his shoulder as a greeting.

“No, please, what do you think it is?” Eri immediately goes against it, pulling on his trousers. “Hitoshi said he would double my pocket money if I guessed it right. Do you think it’s a boy or a girl?”

You send a questioning look in Hitoshi’s direction but the boy holds the camera upright, no sight of a guilty expression. Hm.

“Well, I think it’s going to be a girl,” Mirio declares, swooping right into Eri and Tamaki’s one-sided conversation. “Coffee is in the kitchen, Tamaki, if you want.”

“Oh, thank god,” your friend exhales loudly and shuffles off. You can’t help but pity him. Nightshifts suck.

You would have understood if he stayed away from this celebration. Crowds are not his thing and your two-bedroom apartment is stuffed right now. 

Parents and friends are standing almost back to back and somewhere in the midst of all this, sits the cake that holds a secret.

“Can we cut the cake now?” Eri asks. “I think we’ve got everyone on camera.”

You agree and clap your hands, trying to get everyone’s attention.

“I think we can start cutting the cake. Mirio?” You look around for your husband in the crowd. He’s quick to appear at your side, to press a kiss against your cheek and his hand against your belly. 

“Where’s the cake?”

“Oh,” he turns as if he’s already lost sight of it. He probably has. “Eri?”

“I have it!” She jumps up and down to make herself more visible. “It’s over here.”

Your apartment, you’ve already realized, is a little too small for all these people. But no one seems to mind much as you push toward the cake that seems to have grown legs.

Shouta hands you a knife that Mirio eagerly pulls out of your grip. 

“Let me do it,” he asks, pleading. You laugh, pulling Eri closer by her shoulders when you notice her curiosity.

The knife cuts clean through the purple and green buttercream. When he pulls away, there’s not even a hint of blue or pink on the knife and you feel anxiety rise up in your stomach. What if they forgot the filling?

It’s like the whole room stops breathing for a second as Mirio brings the knife down again. Your hand curls into shirt as he pulls the piece out.

There it is, bright against the purple-green buttercream. A perfect, light blue filling.

“Mirio was wrong,” Eri points out unnecessarily as the people around you cheer.

Mirio does not. He puts the piece on a plate with utmost focus and hands it over to Eri, insisting with a quiet, calm voice that she tries it first.

“It’s good,” is her verdict, but Mirio’s already sinking into you, heavy in more ways than one.

When you look at him, he seems fine, a bright smile on his lips that could convince everyone but you.

You pull him closer, press your mouth to his ear, tell him quietly, quiet enough that only he can hear: “It’s okay. I know what you want and it’s going to happen.”

“Everything okay?” Your mother asks, worried as usual.

“Yeah,” you answer her worried glance with a smile. “We’re just a little overcome with emotion, that’s all.”

She doesn’t quite believe you, but she’s your mother. It has always been her job to question you.

“If you say so,” she mutters before taking over.

“Let’s hand out the cake. Everyone wants a piece.”

You leave her to it, pull gently on Mirio’s hand until he follows you into the quiet of your bedroom.

“Are you okay?” He asks, already worried about you when you’re the one worried about him.

“I’m fine,” you pull him down to kiss him, to let him sink into you as much as you sink into him. “How are you?”

“I’ll be fine,” he mutters into the skin of your neck and you don’t have to wonder to know how often he has tried burying himself there, his worries, his fears, his grief.

A soft knock on the door has you looking up.

“That’s Eri,” you say before you even have to check.

“I’m sure she’s worried,” Mirio adds, pulling the door open.

“Are you okay?” The little girl asks, hands folded together. “You didn’t eat the cake.”

“Yeah,” you smile, pulling her into the room. “We’re fine. Just a little sad.”

“Why?”

“It’s-” Mirio starts but turns to you for help.

“Well, Pumpkin,” you settle on the edge of your bed and she sits down next to you. “Grief is something that never really stops existing. It’s like a pebble in your pocket. Sometimes you forget it’s there, but other times you pat your pants and find yourself remembering that it’s there.”

Her eyes are wide and open as she looks from you to Mirio and back to you.

“Who died?”

Mirio sniffles a little. “My Mentor. I don’t know if you remember him, but-”

“We always knew we’d name a child after him,” you explain when he tapers off again, his hand in yours, his shoulder pressed against your back. “But when it happens, you can’t help but be brought back to that first time you felt this grief. And you miss them.”

“So you’re going to name the baby after him?”

“Yeah,” you pat your belly. “Mirio didn’t even have to ask. That’s what made him so emotional. Because he knew he wanted it but it’s our joint decision.”

“And what’s his name going to be?” Eri edges a little closer toward you so you let her in, let her put her smaller hand next to yours. 

“Mirai.”

“Mirai,” she repeats to herself. “I like it.”

-

- 30 weeks - 

The door creaks open and you lift your heavy head from the pillows to squint at the intruder.

“Pumpkin?” You sniffle. “What are you doing here?”

“Hi,” Eri waves awkwardly and readjusts the mask on her face. “Hitoshi brought me here. I’m supposed to do my homework until Mirio gets home.”

“Oh no,” you cough. “Were you sitting in the living room all on your own?”

“No,” she moves her weight from one foot to the other. “I didn’t want to do my homework on my own so I thought… if I put on my mask, can I come in here?”

“I really don’t want you to get sick.”

“I’m not going to get sick, promise!” She points at her mask. “Nothing gets past these.”

“Well,” you sigh. “If you keep it on, I guess you can come in. But you have to open the windows.”

“Okay!” She’s quick to follow your request but by the time she slips under the covers, you can feel yourself dozing off again.

“How big is Mirai now?” Eri asks, pressing her cold feet against your warm skin.

“Uh, Cabbage,” you mumble groggily. “And he’s sitting on my bladder too. I need to pee.”

“Do you need help?”

“Not yet,” you climb out of bed. “But the time will come.”

- - -

- Week 40 -

“Do you think I’m going to be a good mom?” You ask Mirio during Dinner, your anxious mind unable to think about anything but the due date. It’s so close you can feel it breathing down your neck already.

Mirai’s restless too, his movements visible now.

“The best,” Mirio insists, kissing your temple. “Let me do the dishes, okay? We can go have a bath together after that.”

“Can you massage my shoulders?”

“Sure,” he sneaks in another kiss. “I can even wash your hair for you if you want.”

“You’re my Hero.”

He chuckles but lets go when your phone rings.

“It’s Eri,” he hands it to you before taking your plates to the sink.

“Hey Pumpkin,” you pick up, a little curious about the late-night call.

Your curiosity turns into worry when all you can hear is her crying.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

Mirio turns at the sink, ready to spring into action.

“My tummy hurts,” Eri sobs into the phone and you push yourself up to focus.

“I’m so sorry, Pumpkin. Did you eat something funny today?”

“No,” she sniffles loudly. “It hurts so bad and there’s blood a-and…”

It clicks all together and you relax your shoulders, signing toward Mirio that he can stay where he is.

“Oh, pumpkin, we talked about this, remember? Do you have a Pad nearby?”

Eri sniffles. “Yeah.”

Gently you guide her through the next steps. 

“Do you have some painkillers? Is your Dad around?”

“Dad has a parent-teacher conference,” you can hear her wipe the snot from her nose and you cradle your phone closer as if it were her. “I’m alone.”

“Do you want me to come over? Or we can stay on the phone together until he’s back.”

“Can you?” She sounds so small. “Stay on the phone? You don’t have to come, it’s dark already and you’re pretty slow.”

You can’t help but laugh. “I am pretty slow. But I could send Mirio over or let him carry me.”

Mirio turns at the sink. “I would carry you over in a heartbeat.”

“Did you hear that, Pumpkin? He says we could be over in a second.”

“It’s okay,” she sniffles. “I just… I freaked out. I thought I had to die and-”

“Hey, that’s no thing to be ashamed of, okay? When I got my period for the first time I thought I pooped my pants. I hid everything from my mom because I was so ashamed.”

Eri giggles. “Really?”

“Really really.” Mirai chooses that moment to kick you in the kidneys. “Ugh,” you groan. “Mirai thinks it’s funny too.”

“How is he?” Eri asks. “How big is he? Am I still coming over tomorrow?”

“Well, it’s Tuesday, right? You always come over on Tuesday.” You wait until she giggles before you add on. “He’s as big as a pumpkin right now.”

The words sink in slowly. 

“As big as a pumpkin?”

“Yup. But not as big as you. You’re my biggest pumpkin.”

“What are you going to name him?”

“Mirai? What do you mean?”

“Well, you call me Pumpkin. Are you going to name him Pumpkin too?”

“That’s a good question,” you look up at Mirio who’s drying his hands. “What do we call Mirai when Eri is already our sweet Pumpkin?”

Your husband looks just as conflicted as you feel. 

“I mean,” he says, visibly weighing his options. “Shouldn’t we decide that when we meet him? What if we call him a Bean now but he’s really a Stinker?”

You relay that to Eri who giggles. “Would you really call him Stinker?”

“Only if he is a stinker,” you promise. 

“Oh, Dad is here,” she adds. “I’ll see you tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah, Pumpkin. See you tomorrow.”

When you put your phone down, Mirio smiles at you from the kitchen sink.

“What?”

“I think you’re going to be an amazing mom.”

-

Tagging: @whisperofwonder

@kaykaystrings @lokilove @alienaiver @alexxavicry @tsxkishimx

@notsochillnerd

Do you want part 2?

[wannaeatramyeon]

Meeting Olly Wang for the First Time: Influence

G/N. Sort of soft. I did it anon!! Masterlists

In hindsight you could have been considered a bad influence except you felt bad for him. You like to think that you showed Olly Wang there was more to life than studying, there are some things that can't be taught through textbooks.

You taught him how to live, you gave him room to breathe.

But sometimes, when the nights are too silent and your brain is too loud, when you miss him so much it hurts, you would think that it was all your fault. You set him on this path.

It's stupid, of course. Your minor risk-taking and vices are nothing compared to what has happened since.

Still, it eats away at you.

.

.

It's entirely by chance that you meet.

You're not particularly studious, but empty pockets and a meagre allowance accompanied with bad weather means your options are limited.

In the library, tucked away in the corner is a boy.

Trying his best to read and study yet annoying teenagers continue to heckle him. Throwing balled up pieces of paper and calling out derisive comments.

"Fuck off," you snap, feeling kind hearted today and storming over. You drag one of them away by the hair.

"Hey! Get off-" He tries to wiggle out of your grasp.

"Leave him alone, assholes," you snarl, shoving him away.

The commotion is finally enough to draw the attention of the staff.

The teens are shooed out, throwing angry daggers your way.

"You're welcome by the way," You tell the boy in the corner and you think he mutters something about being able to take them on himself.

Narrowing your eyes, you yank his ear, "What did you just say?"

When he doesn't react, you let go. Huh?

He doesn't feel pain, he tells you, or to be honest, anything. And then when you continue glaring at him thinking that that's bullshit, he introduces himself as Olly Wang.

.

.

The first time he ditches class, as a middle-schooler, is with you. Just two kids wandering the streets of Gangdong. You, used to skipping the occasional days and class, and embracing freedom, while Olly fidgets next you.

His mouth, usually stretched too wide in a grin, is pulled down at the corners today. Tense eyes behind glasses anxiously flickers from side to side.

"You think your parents are going to catch you?" You tease, slinging an arm around his shoulders.

"No." Olly doesn't sound convinced and you sigh.

"So what do you want to do?"

"Me?" he asks, blinking owlishly as if that's the first time someone has ever asked him that question.

You shrug off his weird response. "We can go the park. Shopping. Not that I have any money. Arcade-"

"Arcade!" he pipes up, then cowering and furtively glancing around him in case his parents are actually around.

Nevertheless, he spends hours and hours by your side; fighting each other, killing zombies, and racing cars. The sound of 8-bit music and bright flashing lights soon drown out his fears.

That day, Olly smiles genuinely along with you.

.

.

You first hear about Eli Jang a few weeks later.

Apparently he's fallen in with a new group of friends and this guy is the coolest person he has ever seen.

He's an orphan, he does whatever he want.

"Ok," you deadpan to each fact about this Eli Jang, growing more bored by the second.

Olly, oblivious to your reaction, continues fawning over him.

.

.

"Here, try it,"

You only offered the cigarette to stop him talking about Eli Jang. You've lost count of the times you've rolled your eyes.

Olly pauses, torn between wanting to impress you and not wanting to inhale the nasty smoke.

He gives in when he sees the playful glint in your eyes. His finger brushes yours as you pass it to him, and he places his lips where yours were just mere seconds ago.

"ACK!"

You giggle to yourself watching Olly hacking and sputtering.

You reach out to ruffle his hair once he calms and he peeks at you feeling his cheeks burn.

.

.

"Why do you want to be like Eli?" you side-eye Olly, interrupting his ranting.

"I-" Olly starts, and then finds he can't say the words in your presence. He thinks Eli is the only one that makes him feel something but-

Deep down, when he's with you, he's not sure that's entirely true.

You misread his pause for something else.

You shrug, "I like you as you are."

.

.

"Want some?" you ask, shaking the bottle of soju at him.

Olly bites his lip, "Eli wouldn't-"

"Ugh!" You cut in rudely. "I've never met the guy and I feel like I know everything about him. Will you shut up about Eli?"

"But Eli-"

"I said shut up," you pull him by his stupid collar and yank his stupid lips to yours.

You consider blaming your actions on the alcohol even though you've barely taken a sip.

Olly stares at you, dazed, but there's a fire in his eyes.

"Ok." He agrees, then adds as he adjusts his glasses. "Only if you'll do that again."

You raise your eyebrows at his audacity. At this strange boy who was tucked away in the corner of the library.

"I thought you said you couldn't feel anything?"

Olly gives you a grin, different from his trademark open-mouthed one. It's almost a smirk. His gaze meets yours, determined and unwavering.

"I think I might have felt something then."

You lean in, at the same time as he does, meeting him halfway and kissing him again.

[castleofclouds]

You do have quite the “Sweet Tooth.”

A mark lee × reader au

Genre : fluff, humor, slice of life, doctors

Disclaimer : everything are fiction, non-idol au, grammar and typo might happen, mark as doctors.

Story are by © castleofclouds, do not copy, or repost without any tags!

—✧—⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⊹ ࣪ ˖—✧—⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⊹ ࣪ ˖—✧— ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⊹ ࣪ ˖—✧—⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⊹ ࣪

This is your third visit to the dentist, for the same reason of course cavity treatment, this is the third time in a year your teeth been nothing but aching, and if there is one thing about you, is that you hate dentist. Especially the one in front of you.

Any of them actually, even though the dentist that are treating you right now have a face like a porcelain sculpture, you still didn't like seeing him sighing, breathing heavily.

doctor Mark is what you would normally called is your dentist, and you are quite a loyal customer/patients for his clinic.

“Again? What did you do this time? Eat chocolate and don't brush your teeth after it? I told you too many times how important it is to brush your teeth two times a day?” Mark, your dentist look at you with another dissapointed gaze.

You don't understand why he is mad, isn't it his job to treat you as his patients? Besides if you keep coming to his dental clinic? Isn't that an advantages for him than yourself? He kept getting payed and you get to keep destroying your teeth. Case closed? Why is he so worked up about it?

“You know me..” you answer sheepishly, he rubbed his forehead, confused in what way any more can he told you? He keep explaining to you how mouth hygiene were everything, and you should stop with your bad habits of keep eating sweets like they are your meal for the day.

“What about the diet that I assigned you?” he asked again, you shakes your head to show your disagreement.

You don't like the diet, one thing about you, that doctor Mark keep reminding you off, are the facts you don't even eat fruits, you even once said you rather got starving in the middle of the desert than eating a fruit.

That's right, you hated fruit.

It's not a secret any more, well at first it is, Mark never see someone that hates fruits as much as you do, he keep assigning you to at least eat fruits a day, but you always ended up coming back to his clinic with your teeth aching, he shakes his head, not in disagreement, he is just predicted this. Disappointing but not much of a surprise.

“Why do you hate fruits that much?” he asked eagerly, you wondered why, you never really thought of it yourself, you just hate them, some fruits have weird textures, some fruits have odd smell, some fruits are just not up to your liking, you just hate them without ever trying to eat them.

“If I love them, I wouldn't be here wouldn't I?” your sarcastic remarks, causing him to chuckle in pity, not for you, but for him, to even think you had another reason why you don't like the thoughts of fruits.

Well Mark is a very diligent doctor, he takes pride in his job, it pained him to see a patient that couldn't be healed, well he seems to be a very honest person isn't it? Or he is just that kind to even let you, basically a stranger to have a healthier life, where your teeth are perfectly fine, and you ate fruits like its your breakfast, no one knows.

Then there's a thoughts, an idea, crossing through his head into his mind, like a sudden light show on top of his head, turn on by his idea, like a brilliant character you often see in an old movie, an idea that he will hate later, but Mark is Mark, and he is a dentist, he works as one, then he gonna be doing his jobs right.

“What about a bet?” hearing the sounds of bet, are too intriguing for you not to hear intensively, like if your minds had a favorite keywords, bet would be the first one to pop.

You like the thoughts of a game, and hearing it from Mark, your usual dentist is not something you often see, like what is it? And what kind of prizes you could asked for later? Your mind already running wild with thoughts when he snapped you out from your daydream.

“Sure! A bet is fun, what kind of bet?” you asked, he thinks for a while before words spilling out of his mouth, “A bet, if you could eat at least one fruits, any kind, doesn't matter if there is a repetition, as long you eat, a whole fruit within a day for a solid one month, I'll consider that as a win.” He declared waiting for your response.

Seems fun, but you hated fruits? Can you even do this? Hesitation clouded your mind like a rainy day, you tried to think how you are going to do this challenge?

“But what are the prizes if I do win?” you asked, he thinks for a while before flicking his fingers in instant, “Free treatment for a whole month?”

This is great idea, you are in need of some savings, you couldn't always relying on your salary that doesn't even cover most of your meals, this is like a gold that you found on a random dig hole on random mountain walk, you hit a jackpot!

You were almost agreeing, when a fun idea came back filling your mind, like a circus full of entertainment, “But how do you know that I'm not lying?” you grinned, he was dazed, he didn't think it through though? How can he make sure you do eat your fruits?

“I... I'm not sure..” he tried to found a way, that's when your fun ideas came to play, “How about we play fake dating?” you joked, how does that could run through that pretty head of yours? You don't know but you don't mind, it's fun to tease anyway.

So how does this make any sense? Well at first you know you just have to make sure that you win this bet, Mark would 100% change his mind and didn't agreed, but you would still win, why? You can just play pretend, like you somehow eat a fruit, nowadays it's not hard to manipulate a photo? This will be easy.

“Great idea, sure!” you smiled, completely didn't get the idea, “Of course just as I thought you wouldn't be.. Wait what?!” you were astounded, yelling a question that you would never understand why, “I said it's a great idea, let's do it, besides I feel like this would be fun!” Mark felt a rush of dopamine filling his mind into his heart, he loves this feeling, this is the first time in 5 years since he became a dentist.

Well.. Turns out dating or in your case, play dating with a dentist, isn't as fun as you thought it will be, it's been a week, and he had been nothing but a nagging mom.

Mark would make sure to call you every time his appointment ended on weekday, like some days ago, he were busy making sure to see you eat your grape that he send you himself this morning, sometimes when he isn't that busy, he would just barged in, like he owns the house (he is actually not, you just loved being dramatic) he often make sure to visit you, just to watch you swallowing down those orange juice that he makes.

It takes a whole dedication to do all of that, and two days after which is now you are having a date, at a very cute cottage vibe cave, with lots of natural plants, and sunlight, he prepared your food, it's a cute strawberry croffle with lots and lots of strawberries and some berries on the side.

“How is it? I know you probably bored eating and drinking just juice and fruits, so I tried something fun, I picked this one myself actually..” he blushed, you smiled shyly, never knew the dentist that always up right and uptight had this romantic side of him.

You kinda wanted to know, does he ever dated before? He looks so experienced in it, kinda make you feel sad, but then you shakes those thoughts away, why do you feel sad? This is Mark, the dentist that are always at your throat remind you how much fruits are important, nagging you about your mouth hygiene and much more.

“Why? You don't like it? do you want to try anything else? Or swapping with mine? It's blueberry croffle it's less sweet, oh you have sweet tooth do you perhaps wants chocolates one?” he asked softly, gosh he looks so attractive with his casual clothes, you imagine him smiling and spoon fed you the croffle, like actual boyfriend.

“Oh nothing, it's great too, strawberry is fine.” you answered, he worried, “Sorry, this is boring isn't it, I don't know much about dating, I only watch them on some movies, I saw this scene of taking your girlfriend to a cute cafe and enjoy a croffle, I should have asked you first..” as soon as you heard that, you chuckled, quite loudly people looks at your table as you tone it down.

“No, this is fun! More fun than most dates I've been, it's.. Sweet, thanks.” you smiled as soon as the laughter died down, he smiled genuinely, “As sweet as chocolates?” he teased, you laughed and nodded, “As sweet as chocolates.”

Few weeks passed, many things happen, Mark morning call had been nothing but your favorite part of the day, every dates is fun, he often takes you to a random cafe that served cute fruits dessert, he often brought you to the parks, eating ice cream, crepes, bagels, even though after that he will lecture you at evening, how it's important to always brush your teeth before go to bed, sometimes you would be so tired you just fell asleep while he lectures you about many things, he would always make sure to just spend a solid 10 minutes listening to your soft breathe as you sleep soundly on the phone.

Mark couldn't focus one bit, he always find himself to wonder how would it be, if you two were actually a thing, he couldn't help but putting so many aesthetic cafes around the city hoping one day you both would go there and have a talk, not like the usual patients and doctor, but as individual that enjoying each other company.

As soon as you came to your usual checkup appointments, he smiles brightly, like a kid that just see his favorite person came into the room.

“Do you have breakfast yet?” he asked, you smiled, “Yes doc.” he sighed in relief, “How is your teeth any sign of pain lately?” he continues, you shakes, lately your teeth have been nothing but being good, you don't feel any aching you often feel at night.

He smiles, when he were writing on his notes, you look around his office, you see a calendar next to his notes and clocks.

It's already been 28 days, it's almost times up, you feel sad, you didn't want this feeling to stop though, you want someone to keep remind you to eat apples once a day, prepare a healthy orange juice, cute dates, stroll around the park, sight seeing the scenery of the beautiful city you live in, a daily lecture before bed that Mark often do, so many things that he did somehow feels like a habit for you, you didn't want it to stop.

He found your eyes looking at the calendar, he didn't realize, he cough a bit to catch your attention, “Ah.. It's almost time isn't it?” he speak, you agreed.

How can you tell him that you wish the bet didnt have to end, you couldn't, Mark on the other way thinking of what he should say next, can he asked for this playing dating game to continue? What if you didn't want to play it anymore? At the end both of you just ended up taking a glance at each other no conclusion what so ever.

Even after the bet ended, you ended up winning but at what cost? You aren't this fake girlfriend of Mark as you used to, your morning today seems dull, nobody called you, even though you have been waiting, so many fruits on your fridge left untouched, you take a stroll, today is a weekend so you wish to enjoy your time alone, somehow so many couples walk past you, you wanted to curse yourself to even take stroll on this park, today park were crowded with people holding hands, kissing, talking, yet you alone.

You sighed, you wish Mark were here, as you sit at the park bench, you sat there wondering if you should just go on some random blind date to found someone to fill the emptiness inside your heart, when a breeze of winds blew your hair, flowers today were beautifully bloomed, on the corner of the crowd you see someone walk with his eyes focused on you, bouquet of flowers on his right hands, a smile that warms your heart, as he close the gap between the both of you standing in front of you.

“Sorry, am I late for our date?” you couldn't believe your ears, you didn't have to think twice as you throw yourself to his embrace, Mark holds you tightly as he whispered, “Let's stop playing pretend this time okay?” you laughed at that.

You guess you didn't have to worry about your sweet tooth anymore, because you found someone more sweets than all of the chocolates and candies in the whole world.

Masterlist.

A/N

Okay, I want y'all to know HOW MUCH I LOVE I HATE FRUITS gosh, at first I don't really understand why so many people fond of it, until I read the lyrics, gosh. IT'S SO SWEET WTH? and actually I got this ideas from this habit of mine tho, I don't like fruits, and I fear mark hear my thoughts and make the song? (I'm joking, about the song based on me, but I do doesn't really fond of fruits okay?) And I just got this idea somehow all of the sudden how do yall like it? Hope you like it tho, another one shot ig?

[tinybeetiny]

Bought by Ateez

Please understand this is satire and a joke. Please don't take this seriously, and don't come in my messages telling me how cringey this is BECAUSE I KNOW…. I was feeling sentimental and was reminiscing about my 2012-2015 years…. If you think this is cringey… that’s the whole point. I literally cringed the entire time writing this, but that’s the fun of it. Anyway!!

Cw: CRINGE, HUMAN TRAFFICKING BECAUSE THATS EXACTLY WHAT THIS IS AND WHY DID WE ROMANTICIZE IT AS 13 YEAR OLDS… I cannot lie though…. I was so obsessed with those kidnapped by one direction fics on Wattpad… maybe that’s why I’m so into yandere…

Taglist (I'm so sorry): @e3ellie @yoonshiiu If you would like to be a part of the taglist please fill out this form

Masterlist | Ateez Masterlist

(Y/n) woke up to the sound her alarm going off. She sat up in her very small twin bed that was in her shoe closet sized room. She stretches her tiny arms as she yawns. “(Y/N) GET DOWN HERE NOW YOU USELESS EXCUSE OF A DAUGHER” she heard mother call for her. She hopped out of bed to throw her long brown hair into a perfect messy bun, threw on the only pair of pants she had which were her light wash ripped skinny jeans and pulled her cream colored sweater on. When she got down the stairs she saw eight men she’s never seen before. Each man stared at her taken aback by her beauty. ‘How could a mother want to sell a daughter so beautiful?’ They all collectively thought “(y/n) you poor excuse for a child. I’m selling you to Ateez because I need more money for drugs.” Her mother spits as she grabs the poor girls arm and throws her to the gentlemen in front of them “B-but why?” The girl felt tears in her eyes “I just told you. I want more money for drugs and I never wanted you anyways. I was just waiting for the day I could get rid of you” The men felt their blood boiling at the words of her mother was spewing out. “Okay that’s enough. We gave you the money already. We’ll be going now” the shortest the eight says sternly to her mother before grabbing her hand gently “Why don’t we go pack your clothes and stuff” he says more gently “I uh I don’t have anything else” she says looking down ashamed. The men sigh feeling bad for what she’s had to go through “OH! Let’s go shopping!” “Oh! Wooyoung had a good idea for once” “Jongho be nice” she watches the grown men bicker amongst themselves. The one holding her hand speaks up “Let’s go and get you some new clothes jagi” she can’t help blush at the nickname.

(Y/n) didn’t know how to feel. A big part of her was very happy she didn’t have to live with that vile woman anymore but now she’ll have to live with eight strange men each one looking like they just stepped out of a GQ magazine. She noticed the glares she got as she walked around the mall with them and she couldn’t help but feel insecure “Are you okay?” She looked over to see the kindest eyes she’d ever seen “Um this just all feels so w-weird” she stutters out “I totally understand! But things can only get from here, right? I’m Seonghwa but you can call me Hwa” "OH MY GOSH GUYS! We never introduced ourselves. I'm Wooyoung, the sexy one" He says sending her a wink "I'm Mingi" "Jongho" "Yunho" "I'm San" "Hi I'm Yeosang" "And I'm Hongjoong" The short one says with a smile. She looked around already forgetting who was who, except Hongjoong "There's so many of you" "It's okay sweetheart, you'll learn very quickly" The group continued to walk through the mall and (y/n) thought that maybe this won't be so bad

[moonlight0934]

Jason shoots the man in front of him, once, then twice, and then a third time. The image of this man standing over his baby brother is seared into his head, and he can barely push back the green tinting his vision. The only thing that pulls him back from the edge is Dick’s voice. It sounds muffled and far away, but he can make out Damian’s name. Jason turns around, his hearing starting to come back. Dick is hunched over Damian’s body, his hands pressed against Damian’s chest. It takes Jason a few seconds to realize what’s happening, but he feels his legs almost go out from underneath him when he does. 

Four Hours Earlier

Jason kicks his feet up on the coffee table, leaning back in his chair. It’d been a long day, and he was working early instead of his normal six to three night shift. He finished all of his work and got home by seven. So, he turns on the TV as background noise, and picks up a book. He quietly reads for a few minutes before his phone starts ringing. He glances at it, and sees Dick’s caller ID on the screen. So, he silences the ringing, and puts it back down. It only takes a few minutes for it to start ringing again, and Jason puts his head back. 

“I can’t get one night where they leave me alone?” he mutters as though the last time he talked to one of them wasn’t two weeks ago. Also, it was Damian, who busted in on one of his drug deals while actively fighting a rival gang. “What do you want?” Jason asks, sounding annoyed. 

“Damian is missing. I need your help.” 

“Where’d the brat run off to this time? Have you checked the Kent’s?” 

“Yes, he didn’t run off. He was kidnapped, and I’m sure of it.” 

“Ok, why can’t Bruce just track him down?” 

“Because Bruce isn’t here.” 

“Then call him. Where could he possibly be that’s more important than tracking down his son?” 

“He’s in the hospital. Can you please just stop arguing, and help me look for him?” 

Jason freezes, his throat getting tight. “Why is he in the hospital?” His voice comes out tighter than he means for it to. 

Dick’s tone softens as he answers, “He’s fine. Apparently he and Tim were out walking earlier when someone started shooting everyone in the area. They think that it was a random shooting, but Tim got hit. That was actually why it took us a while to realize that Damian wasn’t home after school. Some of the teachers saw him before class, but he wasn’t there when class actually started. His bag was still at school too. I need your help to find him. I haven’t told Bruce, because Tim needs someone there in case something happens.” 

“In case something happens? Like a medical proxy?” 

Dick sighs. “Yes. It’s not looking good right now, but he’ll pull through. He was shot in the chest, and he’s in the ICU. They think he’ll be fine, and that he’ll be moved soon.” 

“Ok, I’ll help. I still think we should tell Bruce though. I know he’ll want to come running, but we can’t lie to him about his youngest child being missing .”

“I know, I know. I just wanted backup, so I could convince him not to leave the hospital.” 

“Fine, where should I meet you?” 

“I’m almost at your safe house right now.” 

Dick hangs up before Jason can respond, and he grips his phone almost hard enough to break it. He grabs his guns, and heads outside to meet Dick. They end up searching for hours without finding any leads before Dick’s phone starts buzzing. 

“What’s that?” Jason asks, peeking over Dick’s shoulder. 

“It’s a distress signal. I think it’s Damian’s. We have to get to this location. It’s an abandoned amusement park on the edge of town. That’s really weird. I don’t know why anyone would take him there, but we have to check it out. Keep your eyes peeled.” 

Jason nods, forcing himself not to roll his eyes. They head to the amusement park. Even as they’re hopping the fence surrounding the property, they can hear laughing that breaks the silence. Jason frowns, reaching out to touch Dick’s arm. Dick barely glances at him before following the noise. Jason follows a little more cautiously. 

That is until he sees the scene that’s causing the laughter. One man off to the side is telling the others to stop, but no one is listening. Two men are standing in front of a small body while a third one is standing over him with his foot planted on Damian’s chest. Jason’s chest constricts as Dick races over. He kicks one of the first two men in the head, and everyone backs up. 

Jason starts shooting before any of them can do anything. Two go down immediately, and he shoots the last one in the arm. The one Dick kicked was knocked out cold on impact. The two men Jason shot are already dead by then, but he saved the rest of his bullets for the man that thought he could put his foot on Jason’s brother. He shoots him over and over again, unable to even stop. 

Then he sees Dick doing chest compressions on Damian as he sobs, and begs unintelligibly. Jason’s hand goes for his phone immediately. He calls Barbara as he crashes to his knees beside Damian’s head. He’s covered in blood, and his fingers are broken. They’re bent completely out of shape, though his chest doesn’t seem to be in much better shape. It almost looks caved in, not that the CPR is helping with that. 

“Jason, I’m surprised to hear from you.” 

“We need an extraction, and medical help right now.” 

“In costume, or out?” 

“Out, it can be an ambulance. Just call someone.” 

“Who is it?” Barbara asks, his voice all business. 

“Damian. He’s-” Jason has to pause for a second before continuing. “He’s not breathing. We need an extraction right now.” 

Dick motions towards Damian, and pauses his compressions. He still hasn’t said anything coherent, but Jason understands. He takes over rescue breaths while Dick continues with compressions. Barbara keeps asking questions, but he can’t tell what they are. He drops his phone back onto the ground, and doesn’t give it another thought. He keeps his eyes on his brother even as sirens start wailing in the background. 

How are they already here? It hasn’t been that long, has it? 

He breathes for Damian again before pressing his fingers into Damian’s neck. Dick is looking at him with so much hope in his eyes, but Jason just shakes his head. Paramedics run up, and Jason has to pull Dick away from Damian’s still body. Dick goes completely limp, and Jason pulls him in for a hug. He watches over Dick’s shoulder as they continue trying to reestablish a heartbeat. He keeps Dick tucked against his chest. The air stays trapped in his lungs until he hears them start to load him up. He’s not close enough anymore to hear the EEG over the sound of blood rushing in his ears. The lights are still on when they drive away though, and that’s the only reason Jason even knows that they succeeded. 

“He’s alive,” he whispers, but it’s enough for Dick to hear. 

“He is?” 

Gordon runs over to them. They’re both still collapsed on the ground, Jason’s arms loosely wrapped around Dick. Dick is crying again, but relieved this time. 

“What happened?” Gordon asks, kneeling down beside them. 

Jason lets his hands drop to the dirt on either side of himself. “Damian was kidnapped earlier. He was actively being assaulted when we got here. Someone was practically standing on him,” Jason says, his eyes distant. 

“Is he alright?” 

“No, but maybe he will be. Can you call the old man? Tell him what happened and that Damian is heading his way?” 

Gordon nods, and stands up. He’s still watching Dick, but he calls Bruce. Jason eventually forces Dick to his feet, and drags him to his car. They both get changed, and then head to the hospital. Bruce is waiting for them in the lobby. 

“Hey, what’s the news? On either one of them,” Jason adds. 

“Tim is stable, and in a normal room now. Damian is in surgery now. I don’t know anything else.” 

Dick sniffles, and Bruce wraps his arms around Dick. “Shhh, I’m here. You’ll be alright. We’ll figure everything out. Thank you for helping, Jason.” 

Jason nods. “Yeah, it’s no problem.” 

They end up sitting together for hours waiting to hear about Damian. They don’t talk, all three of them still unsure of what to say. Eventually a doctor comes out, and makes a beeline for Bruce. 

“Mr. Wayne, I’m here to talk to you about your son.” 

Bruce stands up. “We can speak over there. I’ll be right back.” 

Jason puts a hand on Dick’s arm, offering silent support. Dick leans into the touch, both of their eyes still trained on their dad. Bruce talks to the doctor for at least fifteen minutes before walking back over. 

“He’s out of surgery. He has eight broken ribs, four broken fingers, a broken cheekbone, and a fractured collarbone. They’re pretty confident that he’s going to survive though.” 

Jason feels Dick deflate next to him. “Can we see him?” 

Bruce nods, looking twenty years older than he did the last time Jason saw him before tonight. 

“Can you point me to Tim’s room?” Jason asks, standing up. 

Bruce nods again, and gives him directions to Tim’s room along with the room number. 

“I’m heading that way. Let me know if anything changes.” 

He walks to the elevator, and makes his way to Tim’s room. Tim, surprisingly, is awake. 

“Hey, Jason,” he says, sounding sleepy. 

“Hey, buddy. How are you feeling?” 

“Fine, I’m surprised you’re here. I figured you’d be with Damian.” 

“How did you hear about that?” Jason asks, sitting down next to him. 

“I have my ways.” 

“You’re hurt pretty bad. What happened?” 

“Bruce and I got shot at. I don’t really remember anything other than that. How is he?” 

“He’ll live.” 

“That’s not a good answer.” 

“Not really, but that's all I have to say right now. You should get some more rest.” 

“You should get some rest too. You look like shit.” 

“Wow, thanks, Tim,” Jason says sarcastically. 

He leans back in his chair, closing his eyes. Tim laughs softly though it sounds painful. 

“Get some sleep,” Jason whispers. 

Tim hums, and Jason allows himself to drift off. Tim is still asleep when Jason wakes up again. His phone is buzzing, and he looks down to see a text from Dick. 

Damian is awake. You should come see him. He’s completely out of it, but I think he’s going to be alright. 

Jason blinks, then looks at the clock. 

“I was asleep for seven hours?” he whispers. 

He glances back at Tim one more time, then heads back to Damian’s room. Damian is awake, but his eyes are glassed over. Dick has a gentle hand on Damian’s leg. Damian turns his attention to Jason as he walks in. 

“Akhi, you’re here. Baba said you were, but I wasn’t sure,” Damian says, his accent coming through more than it normally does. 

Jason blinks, entirely unsure of how to respond. He’s never heard Damian talk like that, especially not to him. “Yeah, I’m here.” He grabs Damian’s small hand in his own. “How you feeling?” 

Damian pauses, thinking about it. “High. I don’t really feel anything else.” 

Jason snickers. “Yeah, that makes sense. You’re probably on a lot of meds.” 

“I don’t think I like it. Can you tell them to stop drugging me?” 

“No, I can’t. We have appearances to keep up, remember?” 

Damian shakes his head. “No, I don’t. You’ll have to keep mine up for me.” 

Jason bites his lip, a smile still sneaking its way onto his face. “I can do that.” 

“May I get some more sleep?” 

“Of course you can.” 

Damian hums, and lets his eyes fall closed again. 

“He’s so cute isn’t he?” Dick coos, his face soft. His voice still holds a tinge of the grief from earlier, but he looks and sounds better. So does Bruce, who is still standing in the corner. 

“I’m going to see Tim,” Bruce says, giving all of them a smile. 

Jason nods before turning back to Damian. 

“I’m so glad that they’re both going to be ok,” Dick says. “Thank you for coming. I don’t think I could have saved him today without you.” 

Jason brushes his thumb over Damian’s knuckles. “Yeah, well, I don’t want the brats dead. We already knew you were useless anyway.” 

Dick smiles, and punches Jason’s shoulder. Jason smirks, but keeps his eyes on Damian.

Trust Issues

Damian watches through half open eyes as his family eats breakfast around him. He keeps his guard up, a feeling of anxiety and immanent threat choking him. He hasn’t slept in days, the smallest noise snapping him back to full awareness. Bruce looks over at him, narrowing his eyes.

“Why aren’t you eating, Damian?”

“I am,” Damian immediately lies.

Bruce looks confused at that, because of how obviously not true it is. Damian puts a singular piece of strawberry from his fruit salad into his mouth. Then he stands up, slipping out of his chair.

“Come on, Damian. We’re doing so good this morning. Tim is even eating.”

“Father, Tim agreed because he’s still asleep. He was eating, then he fell asleep with his bite of eggs half out of his mouth.”

Bruce turns to Tim, who is in fact asleep with his spoon only half in his mouth.

“Tim, dear, you’re going to choke,” Bruce says, taking the spoon out of his mouth.

Tim startles, pulling back.

“What? I didn’t do anything.”

“I didn’t think you did.”

Damian slips out of the room while Bruce is reoccupied with Tim. He heads up to his room to get dressed for school, though that’s the last thing he wants to do right now. He sighs as he walks into his room to grab his uniform. It’s only a few minutes before he’s coming back down the stairs, and heading for the door. Damian can hear Bruce trying to get Tim to fully wake up so he doesn’t fall face first into his eggs.

Damian walks out without letting anyone know that he’s leaving since someone will insist on driving him to school. The walk is quiet, though that’s only because it’s so early that no one with good intentions is out right now. Most kids aren’t allowed to walk, that’s why Damian usually isn’t either. It’s not that they don’t know he can take care of himself, but they have appearances to keep up. They have to look like they’re prissy rich kids, though Damian hates how he has to act every time he leaves the house without being in costume.

A few of the small time muggers eye him as he’s walking past, but his glare is enough to put them off till he gets past them. It’s still quiet as the light manages to get past the clouds, lightening the sky. Damian keeps his hands in his pockets.

The school is empty too since he’s early. The teachers are the only ones there, and they all seem surprised to see him as they pass him in the halls. He heads straight to the cafeteria to wait on everyone else to show up. It’s quiet, so he pulls out his drawing pad and colored pencils.

A feeling of apprehension creeps up on him even though he’s alone, almost as if something is going to jump out of the shadows. After a few minutes, Damian jumps to his feet. He looks around wildly, but doesn’t see anything. He darts out of the exit attached to the cafeteria, leaving his bag, and not even sure where he’s going.

His vision starts going in and out, his hearing cutting out completely. He redirects himself to head back home, but doesn’t even get a few feet before passing out. When he wakes up, he can’t recognize where he is. It looks like a booth of some sort. People are talking right outside.

“Man, it sure took a long time for that toxin to kick in. We had to follow him for almost eight days,” one complains.

“He was in his house for a lot of that time, shut up,” another replies, sounding annoyed.

“Still, you’d think it wouldn’t be that useless. That’s a long time.”

Damian blinks, looking down. He’s zip tied to a chair, rope wrapped around his wrists and fingers on top of the zip ties.

Someone kidnapped me? They gassed me with some sort of toxin? That must be why I was feeling the way that I was.

He pulls one hand out of the ropes with a smug grin.

Now, time to get out of here discreetly so as not to ruin my secret identity. I need to call in backup.

He pulls the other one out, then begins taking the zip ties off of his wrists.

As long as I don’t get caught, I should have no issue with this. Even if they think I escaped somehow, I could still come back in costume with my family. However, there’s only one door.

Damian walks over to the door, feeling much heavier than he normally does. He cracks the door open soundlessly. It’s dark outside, but it’s not hard for him to tell that they’re in an abandoned amusement park. The Ferris Wheel is looming over the buildings, stalls, and shut down attractions.

The guards are less than a foot away from the door, still distracted with their conversation. Damian slips out of the doorway, making a beeline for the next attraction. He makes it there without incident, giving him time to look for his emergency beacon. Luckily it’s there, still tucked into the heel of his shoe.

He clicks it before straightening back up. Then someone grabs him by the collar. A large man shakes Damian. He almost punches the man in the throat, but remembers why he can’t in just enough time to pull back. The man punches him in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him. He feels the man throw him towards the two guards that were watching him originally.

One of them kicks him in the face immediately. This goes on for a while as they take turns hitting him while he just has to lie there and take it. Eventually he tastes blood coming up his throat, and at this point, he’s not even sure where it’s coming from. Though it doesn’t really matter if he’s throwing it up or coughing it up, either one is pretty bad.

I wonder what they wanted. They sure did do a lot to just kill me.

Someone stomps down on his fingers, breaking them. He doesn’t let out a single noise.

That’s probably why they’re still going. I haven’t screamed or cried like this is a big deal. I wonder if they’re going to figure out how badly I’m already hurt.

It’s only a minute later when exactly that happens.

“Hey, I think you’re going too far. He has to be alive to use him for ransom,” the second man calls, sounding worried. He also sounds far away, and Damian doesn’t feel like listening anymore.

A few more sounds bring him back from the edge, even if just a little bit. It sounds like a scuffle of some sort. Then someone grabs his head, startling him. He cracks his eyes open, seeing Dick above him. He’s in costume, his mask covering his eyes.

“Hey, Baby Bird. Just hold on, we’re going to get you to a hospital. You’ll be ok.”

“You came,” Damian whispers, blinking his heavy eyes.

“What do you mean? Of course we did. Don’t you trust us?”

Damian doesn’t respond, letting his eyes drop closed.

“No, Damian, open your eyes!”

Dick shakes his shoulders, but everything continues to fade. He doesn’t feel it as Dick keeps shaking him, and eventually stops hearing him too. Then nothing.

[orcelito]

Ykno it kinda makes me uncomfortable when ppl refer to Vash's genitals with smth like "vashussy". "Plantussy" gets a pass from me bc it's referring to the specific way that the plant biology would be different, but Vashussy???? Do you refer to Any character's genitals like that, or are you just being weird about a trans man??

[cyberfunsupporter]

saying that the sticky mv is uncomfortable and extremely weird and the members of kiof could definitely be lying about liking it so the company isn’t jumped should not be classified as hating or anti-ing… can we be serious

[boomerang109]

my dad survived brain surgery number one!!

[carol-dcnvers]

Getting chewed out by her ex-wife was never on her to-do list that night, but there she was, the cold humidity of Louisiana biting against the skin her costume left exposed as Maria spoke strongly about how disappointed she was in things like this continuing to happen — meaning Carol’s complete and utter failure at being a present mom in Monica’s life after she moved out. It wasn’t entirely her fault, she was trying. Truly. But it was a weird situation and one that she hadn’t managed to fix no matter how much she knew the little girl had wanted her to and that left it difficult to face Monica most days. The guilt ate her alive and so she buried it in literally everything else she could find; work, fixing up her car, one night stands, sometimes even alcohol and a trashy tv show if she was feeling adventurous.

She’d never meant for Val to bear witness to this part of her, not when she knew that the other would likely return to her fancy job in Norway and forget all about her. There was something about being cracked wide open for the other to see that caused more panic to rise in her chest than the words that Maria tossed her way did.

At least she knew what to expect from the woman she once called her wife — and deserved every little bit of it.

And she wasn’t innocent either, sharing a few of her own raised words of excuses and complaints until they both eventually ran out of steam and she remembered that Monica was left in the house with Val and neither one asked for the awkward situation they now found themselves in. So they shelved the argument and Carol opened the front door, padding her way back into the house and toward the sounds of tv and soft laughter she heard coming from the living room. The thought of wanting to see Val in her living room on just a random Tuesday after work hit her full force as her gaze landed on the woman who was entertaining a very excited Monica, Goose settled warmly in her lap. If anxiety and discomfort weren’t already prickling on the top of her skin, she would’ve melted immediately at the side.

But instead, she remained on edge and nodded as she caught Val’s question, trying to convey just how thankful she was for the other’s ease in the situation that presented itself. It was weird, Carol knew that, but it was entirely on her for forgetting. She bit her lip in hesitation before she approached the two and settled on her knees in front of Monica, taking the little girl’s hands in hers. She wasn’t so little anymore, Carol knew that. Almost ten was a big deal and she knew that the other understood more of what was going on than anyone gave her credit for, but it broke her heart thinking about it.

“I’m really sorry that I forgot about tonight,” the blonde admitted, the feeling of both of the other women’s eyes on her, one waiting in the doorway and the other nearby, almost made her retreat from the situation entirely, though she powered on for the sake of Monica. “I was talking to your mom and we were thinking maybe I can stop by tomorrow and you can tell me all about tonight and we can snack on all of the good candy you got, even the Reese’s I know you stole from the cabinet,” the teasing words came with a soft grin and a poke to the girl’s nose, “And we can even pull the Christmas decorations out from the barn while I’m there, how does that sound?”

It wasn’t the solution Monica wanted, not when she tried to argue about how she was there already and was having fun showing the cool costumed Valkyrie all of her candy and why couldn’t she just stay. Thankfully, Maria chimed in and was commanding enough to leave Monica gathering her candy back in her bag and Carol standing up regretfully as the little girl gave her a hug goodbye, the blonde whispering “I’ll be there, I promise”. A tiny wave and polite goodbye toward Val was all that left before Carol walked the two to the door and returned a moment later, alone, with a breath that she’d been holding since the final knock on the door.

“I’m sorry,” Carol admitted, a soft desperation in the quiet murmur of her tone as she motioned toward the front of the house, the tv still droning on as she dropped down onto the couch nearby and ran her hands over her face. “I wasn’t expecting… I was an idiot who forgot they were supposed to stop by tonight when I agreed to meet up. It was weird, I know, and I totally understand if you just want me to take you back to the hotel and you can forget I even exist.”

”Ah, yes,” Carol acknowledged, her grin growing against warm lips that felt like everything she’d ever wanted in life. “How very diplomatic of you.” She couldn’t help but wonder, in that moment when her skin was searing with the others touch and a flush was coating her cheeks at just how much she needed Val to touch her, what the other could do if she wasn’t so worried about being courteous and the blonde knew she wanted more time with the woman than she’d ever have on one singular night.

She wanted to insist how far past changing her mind she was, even from the moment they’d met each other’s gaze in the hanger bay, but being pulled against the other, without a single question for permission this time, caught her words in her throat and only the crackle of what remained of them slipped from her lips, amused and entirely approving at the new sense of friction the position gave her. The feeling of teeth gripping the skin above her bra, a pinch that rippled a sense of pleasure across every muscle in her body, caused her hips to press impossibly closer to Val’s thigh as her fingernails pressed sharply into the flesh on the back of the woman’s neck. The action caused a breathless chuckle to fall from her lips and she wasn’t sure if it was a reaction of pleasure or the disbelief at how insane that day had gone. It surely couldn’t get any crazier, right?

And then there was a knock on the door. Firm and insistent and clearly not the first knock that was attempted. A groan left her lips as the other pulled back and even the kiss against her cheek couldn’t make up for the increase in space between them. Her mind raced to catch up and it took her a second to process what Val said. “Wait — what time is it?” Her brow lifted, eyes sided just slightly as she glanced around the kitchen for some kind of clock and her eyes landed on the digital display of her microwave. Too late for trick or treaters meant trick or treating was over and that realization triggered the memory of a promise she’d made just a few days earlier. “Shit.”

Monica. Sweet little Monica, excited to show off her costume, to talk excitedly about the candy she managed to swindle the old ladies out of with her dimples… and Maria.

Carol stepped away and frantically started buttoning up the shirt she was still wearing. “Shit, shit, shit.” Her eyes searched for the grey cardigan on the floor but gave up after not being able to immediately find it and worried about the growing bruise on her chest and making sure the buttoned shirt covered it. There was no salvaging anything else, she knew that much as she ran her hand through her mussed hair and glance back at Val apologetically, and a little regretfully, before moving out of the kitchen and into her entry way to open the door, only managing to trip on discarded shoes once on her way.

Monica’s excited voice floated into the house immediately upon opening the door, giving Carol a good opportunity to ignore the look she knew she was getting from Maria. She wasn’t going to be able to avoid the inevitable scolding forever, but she let the little girl run into her arms and squeezed her tightly around the astronaut suit she donned. “Lieutenant Trouble!” She greeted softly, a tone only reserved for the girl in her arms. The return greeting of ‘Mom!’ was unavoidable and the back of her neck bristled at the feeling of Val’s gaze she knew was inevitably on her. “You look fantastic… did grandma make this for you?” Carol questioned, holding Monica at arm’s length as she got a good look at the costume she knew that Maria’s mom created just for the little girl and while Monica rambled on about it, she dared a glance at Maria only to be met with the look she knew was there all along.

“Hey kiddo, why don’t you wait right inside for a moment while we talk, okay?” She stepped aside to guide Monica just inside the door, telling her to stay there while she stepped outside and shut the door behind her.

Maria had some choice words for her as soon as the door was shut, most muffled by the barrier between the outside and inside of the house, Carol trying her best to give a good excuse as to why she had completely forgotten about the fact that they were supposed to be stopping by that night, but completely failing at it and her explanation only provoked the other woman’s voice to raise as she questioned, ‘A Norwegian diplomat, Carol!?’