#a friend even borrowed me some money so I can give the guarantee that I am serious about renting

[mocacheezy]

Short version: Trying to find a place I can rent longterm and that doesn't cost me an arm, leg, both kidneys and my spinal cord is frustrating. Especially when the person making the contract (when there is a contract), thinks they can blatantly fuck me over, despite stuff we agreed on verbally.

Long version:

Me: *gets a pricey option for renting a (somewhat fixer-upper) appartement in the main city, with the verbal deal of being able to get a main living address registered for the duration of 3 years I plan to rent (bcs having the main address there qualifies me for smth else I need)*

Me: *gets the money ready, but have to see the contract first before deciding to sign*

The agency dude, writing up the contract, likely assuming "the autistic girl and her mom probably won't read it well, they seem ready to go ahead and sign":

*writes that they are lowering the cost of rent for the duration of fixing up the kitchen and all other stuff I need to get done per agreement*

*writes that the owner agrees to a TEMPORARY address registration*

Me:

Conclusion: If the three sections written in this contract don't get changed before Thursday/Friday when we'll be signing the contract, they can keep that place.

I am not paying 500 rent + utilities for a temporary address while ALSO providing them with essentially a free kitchen because I get to live for a year or two in a fixer upper.

This better have been a typo, otherwise I will look him in the eye at the meeting and tell him that this is something I am not compromising on, and that he can freely give the place to the students that wanted to rent for just one year.

I do need support when communicating and setting up meetings like that, as well as having the stuff explained to me so I don't shut down in the middle of a meeting.

I am not dumb. And I do NOT need this appartement this much.

[octuscle]

Hey, so I ran into a bit of a problem with my stupid car. I drove a pretty old model since I didn't have the money to afford a new one (I'm still training to be a doctor). But it finally broke down and now I need to get it fixed. The guy at the auto repair place told me I could borrow one of their models for the next few days for an "extra cost". I need a car to get to work so I was happy to accept and they gave me one of their old lifted trucks. But now I'm starting to wonder what exactly this extra cost is and why I'm suddenly so interested in cars and auto repair. I have a few days left with this truck before I need to return it so any advice would help.

Well, the first extra cost is the scorn and ridicule you get in college. This truck is really embarrassing. A gas guzzling behemoth that you need three parking spaces for. And you literally have to climb into the car. For someone for whom the walk from the parking lot to the lecture hall is already sport, this is of course a horror. You park at the end of the parking lot so that nobody can see you. But on the second day, pictures of you getting out of your car go viral on campus. It was a shitty idea to take the car.

Sitting alone in the canteen, you watch the video of yourself again… Yeah, it looks really silly, you'd be making fun of the lanky guy in that huge car yourself. Even though you'll be rid of this beast in a few days, thank God, and when you can finally drive your Prius again, you should do something for your body. It's not by chance that they say "Mens sana in corpore sano"… You're looking for a gym where no one from your faculty is guaranteed to be studying. A little outside. For men only. No courses, only iron. I'm sure none of your Crossfit or Pilates friends go there. All you need is for someone to post pictures of you using dumbbells online. You join online and arrange a trial session for tonight. You don't know yet whether this is a good idea.

You roll into the parking lot. A parking lot full of pickup trucks. A few lifted trucks too. But yours stands out. Yours is really huge. Somehow you're proud of it. You jump out of the cab and grab your gym bag from the passenger footwell. You've never been here before. But somehow you feel at home. The guy at reception greets you with a fist bump. "Hey, welcome to the dudes-only gym! I'm Chuck. You gotta be Lance, right? Sweet wheels you're rockin' there.". You reply that your name is actually "Lanny", but Chuck just grins and says that a guy like you with a car like that is hardly called Lanny.

Chuck shows you the gym, the changing rooms, the showers and, after you have changed into your workout clothes, takes you to the training area. A bunch of musclemen are sweating on the weights, grunting. The air is thick with sweat and testosterone. Chuck scrutinizes you. "Well, you're no newbie to pumping iron, bro. But a few more pounds of mass would really beef you up. Let me walk you through some of my top moves." This is actually the first time you've ever pumped iron… But you don't contradict me. And follow Chuck's instructions. You train together with Chuck for the first hour. After that, he has to go back to reception. It's only 8:00 pm. The gym is just starting to fill up. The guys here are not men of big words. A nod of the head. That's usually the whole conversation. Apart from the grunt you let out when you finish the last repetition of a sentence with your last ounce of strength, you don't say a word for the next few hours.

Chuck comes onto the training area at 00:30. You are about to get your biceps on fire. "Big boy, it's time, I want to call it a day." He stares at the tent in your pants. The thing is, if you give it your all on the dumbbells, you'll get a hard-on. The two of you are alone on the training area. You finish your last set. You check the result with a double bicep pose in front of the mirror. You pull down your pants. And you and Chuck call it a day.

The next day you park your baby right in front of the university entrance. It's still early, but you want to be back at the gym early. The early bird catches the worm, as they say at home with mom and dad on the farm.

Dann all this medicine shit is terribly tiring and boring. You almost fall asleep in the first lecture. In the cafeteria, you try to talk to a sane person about chiseling iron or tuning engines. But all the idiots here can talk about is medicine and patients and stuff like that. By 4 p.m. you can't take it anymore. You need some normal people around you now. You swap your doctor's coat for a sleeveless checked flannel shirt. You meet one of your professors in the hallway. He asks you if you are one of the janitors. He has a problem with his car. Finally, a sensible task. You were hoping he had a problem with his engine. You would have liked to have had a look at it. He drives a BMW 540, a cool car. But unfortunately, he just changed the language in his on-board computer from English to German. A little something for you. He thanks you and slips you five dollars. Pathetic nerds!

Chuck greets you with a fist bump. Rituals are rituals. He thinks his ass is still sore from yesterday. You should take it easy on him today. You grin, inspect his tight ass and say it's a disgrace. But then he’d probably have a sore throat tomorrow. You laugh. And you head off to the training area. Too bad about Chuck. But there'll be another ass to fill today. There are lots of tight asses here. But first you work on your own. Leg day!

The next day, park your baby right outside the entrance. It's still early, but you want to be back at the gym early. The early bird catches the worm, as they say at home with mom and dad on the farm. In the workshop, they call you the truck doc. Because you can fix any problem. And because you once studied medicine. That was a long time ago. It was an idea you had in your youth. But you're not a guy who works with his head. You work with your calloused hands. And with your heart. And your heart beats for mighty engines and mighty wheels!

[noxvigil]

The anger remains deep in my veins and the hatred is only bullshits away from becoming scalding hot in my blood once more, but I see no longer red nor my face is struggling not to snarl... It is just into the zero patience resting bitch face occasionally whenever my brain wanders back to the thing...

I have set the stones, and the sentence is made and chiseled beyond redemption or chance for appeal.

I have made the decision to, mercifully give that worthless mooching pig of my brother six months before I delete his data on his forfeited external drive, six months, to back up his shit on some other drive. As sentence for his transgressions to me, and the disrespect he's given and confirmed me.

I only do that on my honor and respect towards my mother and what she would feel and think about doing anything otherwise, that is the only reason I do not succumb to the overwhelming desire for vengeful retribution against that vermin.

And he can't argue with me on it, I am not negotiating it. I am going my way to show even more undeserving good will than what he is owed. I am giving him a chance to extent that period by paying the debts he owns to my mother. I am not being unreasonable, not his way, but mine own.

I will most likely lose my personal data, back up university studies files, and never see that disc. and I can't buy a new hard drive, nor ask my mother for help to do so. That loss is PERMANENT, and it is MINE. And I've been more than patient with his nonsenses in this household, to me, to my brother, to my mother. And he's had the audacity of disrespecting me by lying to my face, saying I borrowed his disc one, when it was the other way, and tell me to be more organized.

I am not the one who leaves all his bullshit scattered, the dishes unwashes; his clothes laying on the bathroom floor, my brother's entire room, my mother's room, her room's bathroom (We have 2 bathrooms), the living room; I am not the one who leaves a mess on the kitchen after using plates and dishes or cooking, or dirty laundry outside its basket to wash only his own clothes.

I am not who hasn't got his shit together with money and debts

I am not the one who can't organize his times forshit

I don't lose my stuff around the home everyday

it is he.

If miracles be, and my external drive is retrieved and safe, he will get his former external drive back and I will transfer my stuff.

he will have to get another one otherwise, transfer his date; or borrow another from a friend and temporarily keep his data with their help... or eventually he will lose his games, his university stuff and whatever the folders of his stuff have.

I am not going to ask him for money to buy another, he will not learn his actions have consequences otherwise and will just continue to think he can bribe his ass out of trouble or to get people swayed for whatever he wants. Not like he can be trusted to uphold such debts, as his debts with my mother have proven.

I'd say if he knows what is best for him he'd behave, but unfortunately as I expected... he failed spectacularly at the simple menial task of doing so, and has already been continuing his disrespect towards me, a shame. He will only shorten the doom of his own data, my love for mother does no guarantee the data safety from his own hubris.

My mercy for him has finally ran out, if he wants to further endeavour his own hubris and shorten the lifespan of that data, I am more than eager to entertain myself with that. It will certainly be entertaining to see him struggle to get a hold of his own hubris and consequences, or fall gracelessly and have him figuratively bleed for failing to do so.

Patient, understanding and good meaning sibling Nox is gone, for him. If he thinks I was a nightmare before, he has no idea. I may not be as experienced as some friends of mine to play villains in a story... But I am not bad at playing villains either.

And I have no qualms playing villain, not anymore. I am not sparing him my vengeance and wrath no longer.

[pepperonijem]

When He Sees Me || Peter Parker

MASTERLIST

Pairing:  Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings: um peter might be a little ooc and that’s because i’m writing about my unfortunate crush but i basically just changed his name to peter parker any resemblance to real persons living or dead is purely coincidental <3 

Word count: 2.5k

Summary: What if when he sees me, I like him and he knows it? What if he opens up a door and I can’t close it? Catching feelings for your best friend is never easy.

A/N: This fic is sponsored in part by @bitchassbucky, @spiderrpcrker, @shurisneakers, @midnightsunfae, and @blackberrybucky who instead of shutting down my feelings, hyped me up to turn my crush and some of the things that we’ve done into a fic <3 this goes out to anyone who has ever started crushing on their best friend.

Oh God, please don’t walk this way, please don’t wa-

“Oh, hey Peter!” The crack in your voice betrayed your attempt at a casual greeting, despite your efforts to disguise it with a cough. “How’s it-- how’s it hanging?”

“You good?” Peter smiled at you but his eyebrow quirked upwards in concern. “I just wanted to make sure we’re still on for tonight?” His concern faded into a wide grin as you nodded in response. Peter gave you a quick goodbye before walking away towards his next class.

As soon as you saw him turn into the classroom, you turned to face your closed locker, letting out a groan before setting your forehead against it. Peter had asked if you were good, and although you nodded, the butterflies in your stomach threatened to give you away. You were very much not good.

A tap on your shoulder snapped you out of your thoughts and you turned to see your friend MJ. “What did Peter do this time?” MJ asked. For the last month, every interaction with Peter -- there have been a lot -- ended this way: a groan of defeat and a few welted lines on your forehead from holding your head against your locker. You turned to give MJ a dirty look, annoyed by the amused smirk on her face.

“Absolutely nothing,” you sighed, finally lifting your head up to talk to her. You opened your locker as you talked, not wanting to make eye contact with MJ as you confessed your feelings. “He just… smiled… and everything went downhill from there.” You rolled your eyes as MJ laughed. “It’s getting worse, I have no idea how I’m going to get through tonight.”

MJ laid a hand on your shoulder. “Well we’ll all be there,” she offered. “And if it makes you feel better, no one’s even noticed. Just act normal and you’ll be fine.” She shrugged her shoulders as if that was the easiest thing to do. But you couldn’t act normal anymore, not with Peter. Not when normal means resting your head against his shoulder every time he makes you laugh. Not when normal means borrowing his clothes when his aunt May tells you to stay the night every time a study session runs too long. Not when normal means wearing the extra sweater he keeps for you because you always forget yours.

Normal was when you didn’t feel butterflies everytime he looked at you, before your curious heart got the better of you and you began to wonder what it might be like to hold his hand. Now, things were just weird. At least for you. Nothing on the surface had changed, no one noticed how your heart rate picked up every time Peter touched you, or how you suddenly felt hot whenever he winked at you. But inside your heart was navigating uncharted territory in your friendship, trying to traipse along the thin line that separated how things have always been and how you suddenly wish things could be.

Pulling your textbook out of your locker, you shut the locker door a just a little bit more aggressively than necessary. MJ gave you a small hug before linking her arm through yours as you walked to your next class.

For the rest of the day, you found it impossible to focus on anything. Instead of taking down notes on George Orwell in English, you found yourself absentmindedly doodling hearts. Everything just reminded you of Peter and your own confusing feelings. Thankfully, you didn’t share any classes with him today, leaving you enough solitude to think about just why you were so frustrated with yourself.

Logically, you knew there was nothing wrong with having a crush on someone. You’ve had plenty of crushes before, a few of which reflected a temporary lapse in judgement on your part. You remember telling Peter about each of them, gushing about the most basic acts of human decency as he rolled his eyes and told you that you deserve someone better, but nevertheless helping you pick up the pieces every time someone broke your heart. That, you realized, was what scared you the most.

If you were to date, and then break up… well who would be there with kind words and your favorite boba when everything fell apart? The thought of losing your best friend over emotions, feelings, left far too much to chance. Was the idea of holding his hand, of hearing him call you his enough to make you risk the friendship that has always been enough for you? It should be enough for you, you reminded yourself. There was too much on the line and not enough guarantee for you to risk it.

With that determination in mind, you steeled yourself for the rest of the day, determined to put your feelings to rest and go back to normal.

Unfortunately, that plan quickly fell through.

You got to the restaurant a half hour late with only a really good nap to blame. You felt bad that your friends were waiting for you, but when you got there, you found an empty spot next to Peter, where your usual order of ramen was waiting and against your will, the butterflies flew rampant. The noodle that hit Peter’s nose as he ate while waving you over made you laugh as you sat down beside him.

“I got you your usual,” Peter explained in between bites. You smiled and thanked him before digging in. Peter had done this for you many times, and you willed your body to fight against the flutter of your heart.

Thankfully, the rest of your dinner was going well, and everyone had plenty of stories to tell. MJ had begun doing more portraits of people in distress and revealed her latest piece -- a portrait of Peter slurping up a noodle only to get a rogue drop of soup in his eye. Ned and Betty were off again, but of course they tried to keep it civil (they were on again by the end of the night) so no one would have to pick sides. Flash teased Peter about the B that he made on his literature exam yesterday over poetry and Peter’s face turned beet red.

“Hey,” Peter began, attempting to defend himself. “I totally could’ve made a perfect score. I was just distracted.” He shrunk down in his seat a little bit, and the rest of you laughed teasingly.

“Yeah, you’re telling me,” Flash continued. “You’ve been drawing little hearts all over your notes, dude, it’s unsettling.” He rolled his eyes and took another bite of his food, swirling his fork around the bowl trying to grab as much noodle as possible.

Across the table, you and MJ made eye contact, a look of surprise between the both of you. You tried to signal her to say something before a weird silence fell on the table, but she was not reading your cues. Thankfully, Peter spoke again.

“H-hearts?” He repeated. “Why would I be drawing hearts on my notes?” Although he tried to play it off, the rise in pitch gave him away. He scrunched his face in exaggeration.

“Actually,” Betty began. “Now that I think about it, you were doing that in Spanish class too.” You glanced over at Peter who looked at you with panic in his eyes. You took a long sip of water, suddenly feeling a layer of sweat form at the back of your neck. “Wonder what that’s about.” She shrugged and turned to Ned asking if he wanted to split a slice of cheesecake with her.

Before Peter had a chance to try to defend himself once again, the waitress appeared. “Are you all ready for the check?” she asked.

“Yeah, but we’re splitting the check,” Flash replied. Betty rolled her eyes in response. “What? Just because I’m rich does not mean I have to share the wealth.”

The waitress nodded in response. As she was leaving Peter called her back. “Oh wait,” he called. “I’ll also be paying for this order,” he gestured to your bowl. She smiled at him and headed for the counter.

“Peter,” you smiled. “I have money, I can pay for myself.” Although Peter usually had to order for you, he didn’t usually pay for you, unless it was a special occasion.

“I know, I just wanted to be nice,” he responded, giving your shoulder a playful nudge. “Plus, you seem like you’ve had a rough week. Every time I see you, you seem to be lost in thought. What’s been on your mind?” The sentence came out casually, but the furrow in his brows revealed how concerned he actually has been. Peter was nothing if not observant, like he could sense things better than most people.

You let out a sigh, unsure of what to say. You didn’t want to lie to Peter, but you also didn’t want to tell him the truth, that you were thinking about him-- well, your feelings for him. Just when it seemed like he had backed you into a corner, however, the waitress had returned with the checks, and the question left unanswered.

After dinner, the six of you went to Flash’s house to watch a movie. He had a home theater and early access to new movies and he loved to remind everyone of that. Not that any of you minded, especially if it got you free popcorn and a movie out of it. Every week, a different person got to select the movie and today, unfortunately, was MJ’s turn.

You loved her, of course, but you absolutely detested her taste in movies. Mostly because she was a horror junkie, and you were absolutely not. Her last few turns however had been spent making sure you all had seen all of the Shrek movies. But today, she picked a horror film. Something about demons and the like. Peter and Betty cheered at her selection as Flash groaned. You settled into the couch in the back of the room and grabbed a blanket. Ned and Betty sat together on a smaller loveseat, and MJ sat on the floor in front of Flash’s seat, the perfect spot to be able to scare him with a single touch on his leg.

Peter sat down beside you, handing you a tub of popcorn and a soda. He pulled the blanket over his own lap as he sat criss-cross on the couch. You tried not to pay attention to how his leg was brushing against yours under the blanket, instead focusing on the screen as the room went dark.

The movie had just started, but you could already feel yourself tense up in expectation.The music was coming to a crescendo and you knew something was already going to happen. You didn’t realize just how tightly your fists had balled together in your lap till you jumped at the sound of Peter’s soft voice at the shell of your ear. “Are you okay?” He asked.

He tried to hold in a chuckle as you almost bounced the tub of popcorn off your lap. He grabbed it from you and set it to the side. “Look,” he pointed to the screen where the creature’s head had just rotated a full circle as it crawled up the wall in pursuit of the main character. “That thing kinda looks like the spider from that kid’s tv show, but not as creepy.” You let out a laugh, a little louder than you meant, and Ned turned to tell you to shut up.

The small joke was enough to dissipate the anxiety you felt towards the movie, but unfortunately only heightened your feelings about Peter. But he noticed how your fists unclenched and how your shoulders relaxed once you laughed, so he continued to tell you whispered jokes for the rest of the movie. Each time he noticed your body tensing, he tried his best to make you laugh, and god, how could you stop yourself from those butterflies anymore?

At the height of the movie, you found yourself with your hands over your ears, and eyes squeezed shut, unable to even look at the screen or hear a joke. When Peter realized a joke wouldn’t be enough, he slid closer to you and pulled you into his side and you buried your face into the crook of his neck. Before you had a chance to think about the spicy notes of his cologne or the softness of his skin, the sound of a high pitched scream in the movie caused you to jump with a gasp. In response, Peter wrapped his arms around you tight, with a gentle shush.

It was only after the music began to die down that you opened your eyes again, only to find Peter’s eyes fixed on the screen. Now that the worst was over, you no longer had an excuse to be in his embrace the way you were. You began to wiggle your way out of his arms, attracting his attention.

“What are you doing?” he whispered.

“Peter I’m a big kid,” you smiled, teasing. “You don’t have to hold me like a baby.” Peter let out a soft laugh before relaxing his hold on you just a bit.

“Okay,” he relented. “I’ll just hold you like this then.” He began to shift so that your head was on his shoulder, and one of his arms looped under yours, intertwining your fingers. The smile on his face was calm as if this was something the two of you did all the time, but his racing heartbeat reminded you this was something new.

The two of you remained that way for the rest of the movie. By the time the soft music began to play in the credits, you could hear light snoring from everyone else in the room. However, you and Peter made absolutely no efforts to untangle yourselves from each other. It was as if you were worried that once the lights came back on, you would never find yourself like this again, and what a sad idea that was. Normal, would never be enough for you again, not when you know now how much better life could be like this.

You weren’t sure if it was the adrenaline from the jump scares, or the sureness of his hand in yours, like it’s always belonged there, that gave you the courage to finally break the silence.

“Peter,” you breathed out, lifting your head from his shoulder, but not letting go of his hand.

He turned to you, with a look of concern, afraid of what you might say.

“Kiss me.” The words came out so softly and so quickly that you weren’t sure if you said it at all.

“Finally,” he whispered as his lips fell against yours, softly and slowly. He pulled away after what felt like hours and yet not nearly enough time. His hands reached up to cup your face. “I like you,” he admitted. “So much.”

Suddenly, you felt it. You felt exactly what it must feel like to fly, to let yourself go without worrying about gravity or anything else. The risks were still there, the numbers hadn’t changed, but you knew that no matter what happened next, just having the chance to fly would always be enough.

[thefanficmonster]

Partner

Ethan Winters (Resident Evil Biohazard) x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Spoilers for Resident Evil 8:Village, Swearing, Mentions of injury

Genre: Angsty Fluff, Comfort

Summary: Following the final battle in the Dimitrescu Castle, Ethan is surprised to stumble upon a person who witnessed the whole debacle, offering him a safe place to patch up his wounds and rest for a little while.

Requested by Anon. Hi dear! Thank you so much for your request! So sorry you’ve had to wait so long but here it finally is! Hope you come across it and enjoy reading it! Love, Vy ❤

“That was...something else.“ Ethan Winters mutters to himself as he limps his way out of the Dimitrescu Castle which is now vacant in terms of residence - his doing. He killed Alcina Dimitrescu and her daughters, all arguably in self defense and with little guilt to follow. However, plenty of trauma’s definitely attached to him following the horrific events he had to go through and the things he had to see between the walls of those luxurious rooms hiding dark secrets of the vampires who took pleasure in torturing people, and wreaking havoc over the villagers who feared them.

“At least they won’t hurt anyone any longer.“ He tells himself, giving the monster of a structure one final look before he continues back towards the center of the village where he’s gonna rethink what he’s got to do next, gather his bearings, take a breath and keep going. He has no other option but to keep going, he won’t allow himself to quit no matter what danger he faces. In his mind, he’s convinced himself that he’s already seen the worst, it’s easier on him that way, it suppresses the fear he’d feel otherwise. The last thing he wants is to think what’s in store for him ahead, he’d rather focus on what’s up to him to do next.

“And we can’t thank you enough.“

The sudden presence of an unfamiliar voice startles him, causing him to whip out his gun and point it in the direction it came from. However, he quickly finds his deadly tight grip loosening ever so slightly because he realizes he’s pointing the barrel at a very human-looking and seemingly harmless person.

“Who are you? Who’s ‘we’?“ Ethan still refuses to let his guard down though, just cause it may not be a life or death situation, doesn’t mean this person won’t bring him trouble and Lord knows that’s the last thing he needs right now.

On instinct, the person takes a step back, “I speak on the behalf of all the remaining villagers. I mean, it was only a matter of time before we too became victims in the Dimitrescu Castle basement. I was next, actually, but the commotion you created allowed for me to escape. I owe you my life, foreigner.“ The speak hurriedly and in a hushed tone, as if the fear of their torturers overhearing them still lives within them despite the monsters being deceased.

“Glad I could help you.“ He nods curtly, remaining at the distance of seven feet between them, “My name’s Ethan Winters by the way.“

They give him the tiniest of smiles, “Y/N L/N, pleased to meet you.” Their gaze gives him a quick onceover, assessing the damage the horrors of the castle have inflicted on him. Their eyes widen in shock at the many bleeding wounds all over his body but what appears to rattle them most is the severe injury that’s causing his limp as well as the missing finger - a poorly wrapped would that has surprisingly not started getting infected yet. “Look, I know you don’t trust me, but I don’t trust you to take care of yourself either. I live in that windmill over there in the outskirts, come with me, I’ll help you with...well, with all that. You seem rather hopeless at medical care.”

While he could refuse their offer, he wouldn’t be able to deny the fact that they’re right - he knows the basics of first aid, but his injuries are far too gone for simple first aid, especially when taken into account that he doesn’t even have any supplies. How he’s not died from blood loss is a surprise to him as much as it is to them.

“What’s my guarantee you won’t turn on me?“ He finally asks after a decent amount of time contemplating it.

They shrug, “You have none. But, you have the guarantee that if I turn on you, you’ll be the one coming out of that altercation alive.” Their gaze sizes up the guns he’s got on him, emphasizing their point.

Suddenly, Ethan feels sorta ridiculous - after all, guns or no guns, he could probably take on them easily with just his knife. Regardless, no one can blame him for being cautious. “Fine.“ He mutters, “But please don’t turn on me, I’ve already had one hell of a day.“

Y/N nods, motioning for him to follow them, “I promise I won’t.”

                                                               *  *  *

“Wow, what a back-stabber! Some friends you have, Winters.“ Y/N comments as they set down a cup of tea on the small wooden table in front of the freshly patched up Ethan.

Turns out, he made the right move by trusting them - they used to be the village’s main nurse until it all went to hell and they went to hide in the shadows of their windmill where they, as evidenced, still are today. That being said, not only did they have all the necessary equipment to fix him up, but they also had the skills and knowledge needed to use that equipment.

“There are those friends who borrow money from you and never pay you back and there are those who shoot your wife randomly while you two are trying to have dinner. Two types of friends out there really.“ He sighs, his tired, a thousand yard stare following the path of the steam levitating from the cup that’s been placed in front of him. “I have no time to dwell on that right now though. My daughter is in grave danger and I have no idea where I should even start looking for her.“

Y/N sits down on a chair opposite his, “Well, you’ve already defeated one of the village Lords looking for Rose, process of elimination should reveal where she is - wherever she is, it has to be one of the Lords’ residence. Mother Miranda trusted Lady Dimitrescu most so it’s a wonder why she wasn’t there, but then again, Heisenberg’s factory is damn near impenetrable, one cannot enter unless he wants them to so she could have entrusted her precious cargo to him.”

“How do I get to that fucker?“ Ethan tightens his hand into a fist, squeezing so tightly his knuckles turn white. There’s so much within him, so much that’s happened to him, so much in such a short amount of time and he’s had no time to deal with any of it. He’s a volcano waiting to erupt, but he has to do so at the right time - in front of the right danger to show he’s not hopeless or weak as his opponent may think. “Where do I find him?“

“He’s in the outskirts too just on the other side of the village.“ They sigh, regretting every word they are saying since they know they are just feeding him information on how to get himself in the worst kind of danger he’s probably ever been in. “That key you have, it’s not complete to access his quarters yet. By the looks of it...“ they observe the key Ethan has placed on the table, “You can only get to Lord Donna Beneviento’s estate, and I wouldn’t suggest heading there before you heal at least a bit more. Her and her dolls are a real nightmare. Of course, I haven’t experienced it for myself, but the stories are enough to get an idea.“

“So you’re telling me I have to waste my time with the little fish before I can finally get to Rose? You know how long that’ll take? You know how long she’ll have to be at the mercy of a fucking lunatic until I can finally save her?!“ Ethan snaps, banging his fist against the table, bad idea considering his hand’s been just patched up. The impact sends a jolt of pain up his arm that makes him hiss.

“I get it, I understand, Ethan. But you are a lot less likely to get to your daughter if you’re dead, you know.“ Y/N cautiously explains, their eyes narrowing a bit as they wait for the pearl white bandages to soak crimson, sighing in relief when they don’t. “Speaking of how likely you may or may not be to get to her on time, I’d also have to mention your odds would be significantly higher if you were to receive help from someone else. You’d need someone to have your back throughout all the shit you’re about to go through, especially Heisenberg’s factory where two eyes are not enough to track each and every threat that might pounce at you.“

Calmer now, Ethan gives them a puzzled look, “What are you suggesting?“

“I’m suggesting - well, I’m offering you my partnership.“ They explain, watching his expression change to one of knowing and understanding. “Of course, you’d have to give up one of those guns and hand it down to me, but I think that’s a small price to pay in exchange for an extra pair of eyes and limbs to guard and help you.“

Ethan’s first instinct is to decline. He can’t afford to see another person dying around him or because of him, he wouldn’t be able to stand it. But then again, just like he had no guarantee they wouldn’t turn on him, he has none that they’ll die. Of course, he’ll do everything in his power to keep them and himself alive and they don’t seem like they are in it to half-ass it either. Quite the contrary, they seem perfectly determined and ready to face the same shit he’s about to.

“What do you get in return?“ He asks, his gaze suspiciously measuring each line on their face to gauge their true intentions. He’s a complete stranger to them, they’d have no reason to be this selfless for him, it’s obvious they are aiming at something bigger.

Y/N scoffs, leaning back in their chair with a small bitter smile on their face, their gaze resting on the tabletop and avoiding his, “You really wanna know? I want my revenge - revenge for what they did to this village, to me, to so many people I cared about and to those I didn’t even know. But...” they trail off, pausing to sigh out a heavy sigh before continuing, “But I also wanna redeem myself. I knew I should’ve done all in my power to stop them when their havoc was still on the rise, I knew I should’ve done more, but I didn’t. And now I’ll die trying.”

“You won’t die.“ He says sharply, barely a second after the last word left their lips, “I won’t allow it.“ He adds, taking a bit of the edge off his voice.

Their eyes come up to meet his, searching for what he means, “Does that mean...“

“It sure does, partner.“ Within the blink of an eye, his pistol is on the table, fully loaded and free for their taking, “You just give a green light and we’re off.“

Y/N lets out a sound between a laugh and a gasp as their hands quickly wrap around the gun, looking at it in disbelief before whispering a quick ‘thank you’. Ethan allows them to marvel at it for a bit longer but they don’t wait another second. “Get your ass up, Winters. We have monsters to kill.”

He needn’t be told twice

[amjustagirl]

Chapters: one. ~ two. ~ three. ~ four. ~ five. ~ six. ~ seven.

Wordcount: 2.3k

Summary: Akaashi Keiji catches glimpses of another life in his dreams. He dreams of fields of endless gold, of constellation of stars that light up the night sky. He hears echoes of the birdsong in her laugher, the songs of the gods in the wind. 

(Loosely inspired by ‘Your Name’, aka Kimi No Nawa, featuring Haikyuu’s own pretty Tokyo boy)

Wordcount: 3.5k

Masterlist here

AO3 Link here

Author’s note: This fic is a little different from my usual work, so I’m a little nervous about publishing it. If you do like it, would love if you leave a comment / reblog / anything!

If you’d like to be included in the taglist, do drop me a msg/ask!

‘It’s rare to see young men like you buying flowers for their mother’, the florist comments offhand as she wraps his order of yellow chrysanthemums in paper. 

Akaashi smiles, accustomed to the friendly florist by now. ‘I guess I’ve always had a partiality for flowers’, waving to the florist as he leaves to head to Shibuya to meet Bokuto for Izakaya. He’s running late, but Bokuto doesn't mind, hooting good naturedly at the comedy show playing on the television in the rundown bar. 

‘Agaaaashi, you made it!’ Bokuto rises from his seat to give him a jovial fist bump. 

‘Of course I did’, he responds dryly. ‘Wild horses wouldn’t keep me from my appointment with you’. He spends most of dinner listening to Bokuto’s recent exploits both with the national team and MSBY. Excitement still sparkles in the older man’s eyes as he recounts each and every match he’s played in, and Akaashi idly wonders how it is that Bokuto seems to have managed to pack on even more muscle in the short span of a month, the last time they met up was to see Bokuto off at the airport for the World Cup. 

‘You should have continued playing volleyball in university’, Bokuto crows in between mouthfuls of yakiniku and beer and Akaashi shakes his head at the refrain he’s so used to hearing from his senpai.

‘I wouldn’t be able to maintain my grades if I wanted to take volleyball seriously in university, plus there’s no guarantee I’d even get off the bench’, he answers self-effacingly. 

‘But you have the best tosses, Akaaaaaashi!!’ Bokuto declares, his words slightly slurred, and Akaashi wonders if he should start to inch Bokuto’s beer away from him. After consuming far too much barbecued meat (Bokuto took the liberty of ordering twice of what Akaashi would normally order, waving his protests off by stating grandly that he’ll take care of the bill, he’s the one working after all!), Bokuto slips into a food-drunk stupor, happy to listen to his anecdotes of university life, and he takes the chance to ramble on about his advanced Japanese classical literature course that he finds far more fascinating than his class on modern literature to his best friend. 

They stumble out of the izakaya when the line outside grows far too long to be ignored, Bokuto draping a heavy arm over Akaashi’s shoulder, the red tint on the tips of his ears betraying his slightly tipsy state. As they stand at the traffic light patiently waiting for the light to change from red to green, Bokuto turns to him and grasps his shoulders in his large, warm hands. 

‘I’m really proud to have you as a friend, Akaashi’, Bokuto tells him seriously. ‘And I’m going to prove to you that I can be the best ace so you can be proud of me too’. The molten gold glimmering in Bokuto’s gaze fills him with far more warmth than any alcohol could possibly achieve. 

‘I’m already proud of you, Bokuto-san’, he answers, his earnestness resounding in every word of his short declaration. Bokuto beams at him in response and bounds across the pedestrian walkway in approximately three strides, ignoring Akaashi’s chiding to ‘look before you cross the road, even if you have the right of way!’

Many things may have changed since high school, but some things still stay the same.  

His dreams take a strange turn that night.

He’s back in the Fukurodani gym with his teammates, but it’s not accurate to say he’s with them - rather, he’s watching his past self from afar, seated on the bench, a wrist guard on his right arm. He doesn’t remember ever injuring himself enough to warrant a wrist guard at any point during his high school volleyball career, but it’s probably just another oddity of being in a dream.  

‘I wish your wrist was feeling better, Akaashi. I miss your tosses already’, the pout in Bokuto’s voice pronounced.

‘It’s just for a while - I’ll be right as rain tomorrow!’ he hears himself say cheerfully - but that doesn’t make sense either. No one in their right mind has ever described the way he speaks as cheerful, and the rest of his teammates glance over at him curiously. Then his past self awkwardly tucks his legs under the bench, ankles crossed almost as if he’d like nothing better than to fold himself away with all the cloth vests they use for practice – but that doesn’t make sense either, he doesn’t even know why he’s behaving like some fish out of water. While volleyball doesn’t come naturally to him as it does to someone like Bokuto-san, and there are times he feels like he’s struggling to swim upstream, his fingers still itch to toss a ball up into the sky in a perfect arc even now. 

‘I told you, I don’t get what you insist on waxing lyrical on him being a star you can’t help but follow,’ he hears her voice chime in his consciousness, inexplicable though her presence in this scene may be, he hears himself answer - ‘just be patient and watch’. 

Anahori, their substitute setter tosses the ball up in the air and it’s a good toss, he will give him that, but it’s still not quite as high a toss that Bokuto likes. Bokuto runs right up to the net to leap into the air, back arching to slam the ball to the ground with such force that it’s a commanding full stop punctuating any doubts about his place on the team as its captain and ace. 

‘You see! When he plays well, he's like a supernova, shining with a light so bright it almost blinds my eyes.’

‘Waxing lyrical again, Keiji-kun?’ He can hear her tease him gently. ‘Go on, carry on with your celestial metaphors’.

‘How about a shooting star then’, he replies, amused. ‘If a shooting star shot up from the earth instead of falling from the sky.’ 

‘You sound like you like the guy. Are you sure you don’t?’ She asks. ‘You sure sound like you do.’

What?!

His legs are tangled in his sheets when he thrashes awake, mouth open in a gasp for air. That was a new twist in his collection of dreams, the first time he’s dreamt of something other than that phantom girl’s life in months, but even when the dreamscape doesn’t even feature her, she still manages to invade his dream. 

Worse - his dreams are now edging into territory he hasn’t mapped out in years. His teenage infatuation with Bokuto-san died a natural death after he realised that he’d mistaken his admiration for the ace for romantic feelings. Besides, there was no way Bokuto-san would ever be in love with him, not when he’d chosen to devote the next decade of his life to his sport. So why are his dreams dragging him deeper into a labyrinth of memories that aren’t even his own?

‘Why are you squandering my pocket money in a maid café of all things’ he says, sounding uncharacteristically put out. But then again he would be annoyed if anyone managed to drag him into the pink and white monstrosity his dream has deposited him into.

Bokuto’s happily seated across from him (or rather, his past self), exclaiming ‘ooh - isn’t the ketchup art on this omurice amazing, Akaashi? They managed to capture my hair so well!’, and to his horror his past self nods encouragingly and only laughs when Bokuto whines about not wanting to destroy this ‘piece of art the maids took so much time to create’ by eating the damn omurice. 

‘Don’t be such a killjoy, Keiji-kun’, she giggles. ‘Look at him, he’s having such fun, and besides, your day will reset so your money won’t be wasted anyway!’. 

Bokuto, distracted by the catchy beat of the J-pop song blasting over the speakers, is cajoled by a trio of pretty maids to join them on stage to dance along with them. He pops his hips to the beat of the music, throwing up cheesy hand signals with such gusto that it makes him (yes, present day Keiji) want to smile. 

But his past self evidently hasn’t lightened up yet, because he hears himself say crossly – ‘You do realise this is a waste of time when we could be doing something more useful like homework, especially since  Bokuto-san and I already spend most of our time training?’

‘Oh Keiji-kun, life is too short to be spent worrying like that. Because before you know it, you’ll grow into an old man who doesn’t know how to have any fun’.

‘I have fun’, he says petulantly, a faint sulk in his voice. 

‘Oh really? Then stop worrying and live a little. Maybe you should take a leaf out of your beloved Bokuto-san’s book – look how much fun he’s having!’

Bokuto clearly seems to be having the time of his life because now he’s prancing around the stage playing some silly game with the maids. 

‘I told you, I don’t think of him that way.’

‘And I’ve told you I’ve borrowed your skin for far too long to know when you’re not telling me the whole truth, Keiji-kun’, she sing-songs. ‘You wished for more time with him, didn’t you, so aren’t I doing a good deed by helping you figure out what Bokuto might like to do with you?’

‘Bokuto-san doesn’t have spare time on these things – and you’re just making an excuse to explore cafes in Tokyo at my expense!’ 

‘Two birds, one stone. Don’t be pedantic, Keiji-kun!’ 

The next time he’s back in one of those dreams, he finds his past self dressed in a blue yukata along the Sumida river, tugging Bokuto away from the takoyaki store. He remembers Bokuto dragging him away from the rest of the team on a quest to buy some snacks at the food stalls set up around the park, insisting that his stomach’s growling too loudly to wait until the fireworks display is over ‘come on, even you can hear my stomach at this rate, Akaaashi!!!’ – but that’s where the dream starts to diverge. 

‘If you queue for takoyaki, we’re going to miss the fireworks, and you don’t want to miss that, do you Bokuto-san?’ he says, hand firmly on Bokuto’s yukata sleeve. 

‘That’s right! But shouldn’t we join the rest of the team? They’ve got a spot by the river just over there!’ 

‘We won’t get there in time with this crowd – come on! If we hurry, I know the perfect spot to watch the display’, weaving his way through the crowd to shimmy up the trunk of a tree and settle himself comfortably against a large branch. 

‘Woah – Akaashi! I never knew you could climb trees!’ Bokuto calls, sounding impressed.

‘Well, don’t stand there, come join me!’ 

The tree creaks ominously as the larger boy scales its trunk, branches already heavy with red lanterns groaning in protest as he settles himself in the branch opposite Akaashi. And not a moment too soon, because a collective gasp ripples through the crowd along the river as the night sky explodes into rainbow hued fiery streaks.

‘It’s amazing, Akaashi!’ Bokuto hollers with his face tilted up to the sky. 

‘You’re amazing, Bokuto-san’, he says fondly, reaching over to bump Bokuto’s shoulder with his fist and the older boy beams at him, the sheer delight in his smile brighter than the fireworks in the sky. There is a sea of stars in his eyes, and Akaashi wants to shrivel in shame at the way his younger self looks like he’s mentally planning to pirate a boat to cross the straits to Bokuto’s heart. 

‘There is no way I’m going to do that’ he hears himself say, sounding mildly cross. 

‘Eh – it’s cute. ‘sides, doesn’t he look so happy’ he hears her say, sounding overly chipper. 

‘You could spend your time instead learning how to play so Bokuto-san won’t pout when you sit out of practice and you wouldn’t have to pretend you sprain your wrist every time we swap.’

‘Are you mad? Do you really think they won’t think something’s up when I can’t even do a simple serve?’ 

‘Fine. You have a point’, he answers begrudgingly. 

‘Of course I do. Come on Keiji, live a little. Enjoy your time with the lodestar of your life’.

‘Can you not say things like that?’ he says dryly. 

‘It’s your fault for reading so much Shakespeare to me!’ she replies with a grin in her voice.

He texts Bokuto the minute he wakes up. ‘Bokuto-san, apologies if this seems weird, but do you remember if we ever climbed a tree when we watched fireworks with our team?’ 

Bokuto takes a while to respond, but that’s to be expected, it’s his mornings are usually filled with practice and conditioning. But when he does respond, his text makes Akaashi’s brow curl. ‘Nope, but sounds fun! What’s up Akaashi!!’ 

Akaashi drops his head in his palms. Good to know he’s not losing his grip on reality at least. 

But his sleep for the following weeks continues to be filled with dreams in the same vein. 

He dreams of scenes that have never taken place in real life - him challenging Bokuto-san to ramen eating competition, the older boy winning handily of course, crowing like a child when he slurps the last mouthful of tonkatsu broth - ‘eh Akaashi, eat faster!’, him dragging Bokuto-san to the arcade near school, demolishing middle schoolers in endless games of dance dance revolution (there is no way he is actually able to move like that in real life) and losing far too much money in claw games - ‘Akaashi I really want that toy pleaseeee’ - and even he would admit it’s absolutely adorable if not for the fact that he can’t explain why these dreams keep invading his head like a wildfire that refuses to die. 

‘I honestly don’t understand you’, she says and again, why on earth is she in this set of dreams - she doesn’t belong in them -

‘What exactly do you not understand?’

‘If you like him that much, why aren’t you jumping at the chance to hang out with him? All you do is nag me about how I’m wasting his time, I’m wasting your time, but I don’t understand -  isn’t time meant to be spent on the people you love? Unless you’re confusing love with admiration, because yes, I get that you admire his talent, but you don’t seem to have all that much patience for spending time with him outside of school.’ 

‘I suppose I do like him, but…’

‘Finally you admit it, but I don’t like the sound of that word.’ 

‘It’s nothing’, he finally says, and she huffs in annoyance, clearly wanting him to explain but he stubbornly refuses to say another word. 

His past self is skidding down the hallway with Bokuto hot on his heels yelling ‘Akaaashiii you owe me a Yakisoba bunnnnn’ when he hears an almighty crash behind him. As he spins around, Bokuto’s sprawled on the floor, papers and books scattered around him. The older boy grimaces as he sits up, grabbing at his ankle in pain. 

‘Bokuto-san, are you ok?’ he cries, running back towards the older boy. 

‘I might have twisted my ankle. Argh this is bad - prelims are just next week!’ Bokuto groans, clutching at his ankle desperately. 

‘Don’t worry. You’ll be fine tomorrow, trust me’, his past self says with complete certainty, and flags down a passing student to call for a teacher. 

‘Look what you’ve done now. Are you happy with yourself?’ he hears himself say accusingly. ‘Everything might reset tomorrow, but look - he’s hurt himself today. Is this what you’ve been trying to prove to me?’ 

‘I’m sorry, Keiji’ he hears her say, her voice watery. ‘I didn’t think -’ 

‘Of course you didn’t, you never think about the consequences of your actions, do you?’ he says, glass shards in his words. 

His dream fades to black. He never hears her answer. 

His sleep remains relatively undisturbed for the next fortnight, just in time for his mid-term exams which he aces, even his course on classical Japanese literature. He’s relieved of course, because his final year grades matter most when it comes to recruitment, yet there’s a part of him that’s buried deep between ventricles and pumping flesh that childishly wonders what his dreams are going to show him next.

His wish is answered when he opens his eyes to an ocean of stars, white pinpricks of light against the vast tapestry of the purple night sky. His head is pillowed on tufts of grass and the wind whispers against his feet.

The sight takes his breath away. 

He’s a born and bred city boy, and he knows from experience it’s near impossible to see stars in the city sky amidst light pollution and masquerading satellites.  

‘Is this your way of apologising?’ he asks, his voice wry. 

‘Is it working yet?’ he hears her ask, an uncharacteristically timid note in her voice. He laughs, a fond sound, and he can hear her huff a breath through her mouth. ‘I am sorry though, Keiji. I never meant to hurt him’. 

‘It’s fine, no damage done. Besides, I was thinking about what you said.’

‘Me? About what? I know I’ve said plenty to you so far’, she says curiously. 

‘About Bokuto-san’, he supplies, and she stays silent, waiting for him to go on. The stars twinkle down at him, and if he closes his eyes, he can imagine the galaxy reaching down to lend him its infinite strength. ‘You were right about how…I felt about Bokuto-san. I thought what I felt for him was something more than it really was - now I’m starting to realise I just admire his strength, and I don’t see our paths ever converging, especially if he’s going to chase his dreams of going pro all the way’. 

‘You don’t have to chase someone else’s light when you’re brilliant in your own right’, she says gently. 

‘Thanks’, he answers thickly, as if the word feels a little awkward in his mouth. 

‘So -’ she pipes up, and he can tell she’s trying her best to paper over the sudden lapse of silence. ‘Will you tell me stories about the stars, Keiji?’

He laughs fondly, raising a hand to catch the stardust from the sparkling constellations overhead. ‘I could tell you the story of Andromeda, chained to rocks as a sacrifice to satisfy the cruel demands of the sea monster?’ 

‘Ugh no gory stories, I want a happy ending!’ 

‘It has a happy ending, I promise. Just be patient and listen, okay?’ 

Akaashi wakes up before his past self can finish telling the tale of Persues’ rescue of Andromeda from the jaws of defeat. It’s barely three in the morning, but he knows it’s futile to try to go back to sleep. He wanders to the window, and wonders whether the lone star hanging in the cloudy sky is merely a satellite in disguise. 

Against his better judgment, he dials Bokuto’s number. 

‘What’s up, Akaashi!’ he hears the older man mumble sleepily, sheets rustling. 

‘Was it obvious I had a crush on you in high school?’ he asks plainly. If seeking closure is what he needs to end this slew of dreams, then he’s going to do it, never mind the embarrassment thick in the blood in his veins.

‘Huh?’ 

Akaashi’s pretty sure he can hear Bokuto blink rapidly. ‘A crush on you’, he repeats, and for good measure he adds - ‘sometime in your third year of high school’. 

‘Ehhhh…’ Bokuto’s voice trails off over the phone. ‘You did?’ 

The sigh that trips out of Akaashi’s mouth is worn, weary. ‘I did’, he confirms, embarrassment writhing in his belly. 

‘But you stopped right? Just before I graduated? You started becoming distracted after Spring High and I thought you were just worrying about university entrance exams.’

‘I suppose.’ And Akaashi should really get a grip on himself but his dreams have been doing a number on him so to his horror, he starts to ramble. ’ It’s probably the lack of sleep, but look - this sounds really stupid but I was having a lot of really weird dreams and I don’t understand what’s happening but I’m hoping getting this off my chest helps me get some more sleep and I hope you don’t think I’m completely weird and don’t mind still being my friend -’

‘Woah, ‘kaashi, slow down! You’re overthinking again - what, you think I’m not going to be your friend anymore?’ Bokuto booms, laughing widely. 

‘Uh. I don’t know?’ 

‘Relax! I’m flattered, but I think it’s a good thing we never went out! You were already so stressed dealing with me in high school Washio used to joke about your hair falling out, but I’ve changed! Now I’m just an ordinary ace!’ 

‘Bokuto-san, I don’t think anyone would call you ordinary’, Akaashi interjects, rubbing circles against his temple. 

‘You know what I mean!’ Bokuto laughs, the sound so round and boisterous that it makes Akaashi quirk his lips up in affection. 

‘Yes, Bokuto-san. Anyway, sorry for disturbing your sleep.’ 

‘Anytime, Akaashi!’ They bid each other goodnight, and the relief he feels after the call settles on his chest like a blanket, and he falls back to sleep. 

Taglist: 

@1tooru @kageyamakock @animeflower26 @underrated-fruit-tarts-official

[just-another-writer-cherry]

Watermelon Sugar High

Type: imagine 

Warning: Daddy kink, smut, oral sex, and just a rough fuck in general 

A/N I really hope you guys enjoy this, Please like and reblog. Thank you so much for those of you who support me and my writing. THANK YOU SO MUCH

Y/N

“All right everyone, get in position!” Pablo one of the directors told us models

Tasha, Lia and I start walking towards the ocean to get ready for the scene. I met them this morning while we were getting ready, and The three of us just got really close in that short period of time.

“So are you guys excited to part of the video?” Ask Lia

“Eh, money is money and you do what you have to do to get it” I answer

“You sound like old whore lady” Tasha told me

The three of burst in a fit of laughter

“Not but seriously, have you seen how Harry has been gawking at you practically the whole time we’ve been here?!” Lia said

I stopped laughing, and rolled my eyes at her comment. Seriously like why would he ever, there is better girls out there to gawk at

“No there is-“ I’m not able to finish my sentence because Tasha interrupts me

“Girl stop, he has and you and I know it” she said and lia just nodded

“You know I shipped your baby’s would be fucking cute”

“She’s right Y/N , your baby’s would be adorable, with his curls and your tanned ski girl I’m death” Tasha added

“Shut up” was the only thing I said, as if they couldn’t get more annoying they started signing

“Y/N and Harry sitting on a tree, F-U-C-K-I-N-G!” Lia and Tasha were singing, awful signing may I add

But before they could continue their awful performance, I had to stopped them because at the corner of my eyes I spotted grinning Harry dressed in a floral bottom up with yellow shorts walking towards us

“Shut up you morons Harry walking towards us” I told them they stop signing and quickly came to stand beside

“Bet your fucking tonight” Tasha whisper in my ear, I blushed hard and a lot

I just gave her a death stare and right when I was gonna open my mouth to bite back a thick British voice interrupted me

Damn why isn’t anybody letting me talk today!

“Hello lady’s” Harry said

“Hi” the three of us said

Harry was about to speak but Tasha beats him do it

“Actually Lia and I have to go-um -watch the water” she said

Tasha pull Lia with her and started walking forward somewhere, she turn her head when she far enough from Harry and mouth me a “Tell me everything” 

I only shake my head and turn my attention back to Harry

“so..” I said

“so..” he said 

“what do I own the pleasure Mr.Styles?” I ask him

“Please, call me Harry, and I just wanted to tell you that smiles of yours drives me crazy”

“what?” I ask him confused

“I said that smiles of yours drives me crazy” He repeat again

“Thanks..” I said shyly, is he trying to flirt with me?..

He smiled back at me 

“so are you excited for the video?” I ask him, I’m trying to keep this conversation as light and professional as possible 

“Very, specially if a beauty like you will be in it” He said with a bit of smirk

I just blushed really hard, before I can speak he said 

“Your blushing makes you look extra cute and hot” 

My cheeks couldn’t help it and blushed once more, only this time I try to cover it but couldn’t. While I was embarrassed, all Harry did was laugh. Not a mean laugh but a kind laugh. 

“Please stop saying those things, it’s very unprofessional” I said in shy tone voice 

“Well, in my defense I’m not flirting, I’m just being extra friendly to my extra attractive friend” he said, giving me a flirty smirk at the end  

We both laugh a little bit, 

“Oh so I’m your friend now?” I said with a bit more confidence

“ Course you are, in fact a beauty like you should be cherish by everyone” 

“god you and your compliments” I said shaking my head with a smile

“Well darling I shall get going but remember I’m wearing the smile you gave me” he said

afterwards he lean in and gave me a peck on my cheek near the corner of lips. then he whisper in my ear “Thank you for reminding me what butterflies feel like” 

After that he just walk away towards the directors, I was just standing there in pure shock. I could not believe what just happened. 

~~~~~~~~

Later on the same day

Y/N POV 

We just finish wrapping up the first day of shooting, people are currently either packing everything up or heading to the hotel. We are all pretty exhausted, running around in the sand o a hot day takes a lot out of you. Instead of doing what everyone else is doing I decided to take a little get away and just enjoy the beach around. 

I was sitting on the sand, my toes getting wet by the ocean water , eyes closed and enjoying the gently breeze. I was so calm and relax, I hadn’t realize I haven’t felt this way in so long. I was in my own world enjoying myself. 

“Mind if I join?” Harry ask, scaring the pure shit out my soul

“Fucking hell, you scare the living daylights out of me” I told him

He laugh and sat down next to me.

Once he is seated next to me he says “Sorry for scaring ya”

“it’s okay” I assure him

We sit in silent for a moment, before I speak

“It’s beautiful isn’t it” I said, referring to the view 

“Yeah you are” He said 

I just look at him then back at the view. All the can be heard are the waves crashing, I’m calm and enjoying this. But not too long into that moment I feel a hand on my thigh. 

Harry’s 

I move mines on top of his, he moves a little closer to me and his hand a little higher on my thigh. My breath speeds up a little bit, I turn so now I’m facing him and he is facing me. He moves his face just a little bit closer to mine, just close enough so that the tip our noses are touching. We might not be in a room but I can guarantee you the temperature is rising.

“Y/N can I borrow a kiss?” He ask 

“Are you gonna give it back?”

he mutter something I coudn’t understand, next thing you know his lips are on top of mine, he is kissing me and without a doubt I’m kissing him back. The kiss grows more intense and passionate. 

He picks me up from the sand so I’m straddling his lab, he pulls me into him, make me seat right on top of his growing member. His tongue ask for entrance and I gladly allow. At first our tongues are figthing for dominance, but it slowly turns to a passionate dance where our tongues are just dancing. He is holding tight by my waist, the more we make out the more wet I get, the more hard Harry gets. He pulls back breathless and with a little of our saliva on his lips. 

“Let’s go back to my room” he says licking his lips and I swear in the moment the wetness of my pussy when right through my panties.

To his statement I only my head

We get up from our spot and make our way to the car who was driving us to where Harry is currently staying.

~~~~~~~~

The whole car ride here was INTENSE. Harry was touching me then I was touching him, we were kissing, his tongue was exploring my mouth while mines was trying to do the same with him. 

Once we arrived to his room, I’m immediately pushed to the wall by Harry, he comes closer and sensually whispers  “I’m gonna fuck you so hard, I’ll make you feel it for days” he starts to kiss right below my ear , while I rapped my hands around his neck. we then start to kiss and he takes a hold of thighs from underneath. He carries me to the where he seats down with me on his lap. He goes to untied my bikini top, but I stop him.

“let’s take care of you first” I say in my most sensual voice

I start to unbutton his shirt, when I’m done unbuttoning his shirt, I take it off and throw it somewhere in the bedroom.I start to kiss around his neck while doing so I discover his sweet spot which makes him moan loud when I suck a hickey on it. Once I’m done with that hickey I give it a kitty lick and blow air on it. I go to kiss and leave more hickey’s on others spots of his neck, and chest area. I start to get on my knees and kiss lower and give him kitty licks. He releases a low “fuck” when sees I’m getting closer to the waistband of his shorts.

I stop what I’m doing to remove his shorts and his underwear at the same time. I see his big, thick, long hard cock come out, bits of pre-cum on the tip. I’m honestly kinda mesmerized by his cock, its really pretty. “it’s so pretty h” I tell him “t-th-anks” he says. I smile, cute. I take his cock in my hand and slowly start to stroking him up and down. He moans at my action, god his moans make me even wetter. With my other hand I play with his balls for a bit. “I-I li-ike w-wh-at you’-re doi-ng” he says “you like this, then your not ready for what comes next” I told him. 

I take the hand that I was stroking his cock with and spit on it, i start to stroke him again. I’m so focus on what I’m doing I don’t even realize his moans are getting louder. I take the tip of his cock into my mouth but only like 1/3 of it, to tease him. I do that a couple of times, but I stop when he says “Fuck, stop being a fucking tease and suck on it already” with a dominance tone of voice “ok” I responded “ok what?” he ask “k, daddy” Shit, I look up at him, embarrassment written all over my face,  “I’m sorry I-” I’m cut off by him  “say it again” he told me to “Daddy” I said “that’s right be a good girl and suck on daddy’s cock” Which is exactly what I do.

I start to take him into my mouth, since he is gigantic I was only able to take maybe a little bit over half of it. the rest I did with my hand. Once he is in my mouth I take sometime to adjust to his size but soon enough I start to bob my head up and down his cock. At the same time doing this I run my tongue up and down plus giving him the most innocent look I can while having his cock in my mouth. “Uh- Fu-ck Yes!, K-ee-p go-in-g don’t Fuck! Stop!” He moans after that, and keeps moaning, each one louder than the last one. I’m pretty sure peple next door can hear us. I feel his hand slide through my hair, as in moving out of my face. 

I keep sucking on his cock, harder this time. I also play with his balls to show them some loving, so they don’t feel left out. Harry seems to be on cloud nine, the way some of his baby hair stick to his sweaty forehead, how his eyes roll back and god his moans are like music to my ears. The way his chest is sweaty, how his hand hold onto the sheets of the bed, this is a sight to never be forgotten. While I’m still sucking, I can feel his cock twitch and that’s when I know he is close. I pull back from his cock, a string of saliva and cum following, “you gonna cum daddy? Please cum for me, want your cum daddy I’ve been a good girl for you” I said and go back to sucking after “Yes b-ba-by gir-l, su-ch  Fuck! a good girl for your d-daddy” he says with moans in between “Yes! Yes! I’m cumming! F-uck go-gonna cum” and he does, he cums,  I feel his cock twitch in my mouth before a warm liquid shoots out and down my throat. Harry lets out several moans in the process. after coming he falls on the bed, sweating and out of breath. I take his cock out my mouth, string of saliva following, I wipe the at the corner of my mouth with my the back of my hand and lick it. I go up to see and he looks fuck out. 

“Hi daddy” I say, he is still trying to catch his breath, but when he does, he gets up enough to attached our lips together again. He hovers over me, still kissing me. I’m now laying on my back on the bed, his hands roaming my body. He his hands go behind my back to untied my bikini top, once he does he pulls it over my head and throws it somewhere on the the floor. He starts to kiss my neck. Soon enough he fines my sweet spot and starts to sucks a hickey “Fuck, daddy” I moan. His hand goes down to outline the waistband of my shorts.

He starts to kiss the between my breast, then starts to kiss and lick the top of  my the top of my left breast. Goes to the middle of my breast and starts to lick down until he gets to my nipple. Once there he raps his whole mouth around and starts to suck on it roughly, as if milk would come out it.  His tongue his swirling around it as well.”Fu-ck Da-ddy!”, after couple more seconds he stops sucking on my left boob ad goes to do the same to the other. He also suck hickeys on both of my boobs.

When he is done with my breast, he starts to kiss down my body and when gets to my shorts he rips them off me. He looks at my  my clothes pussy, and licks his lips. “You’re really wet love, wonder who did this do you huh? This all for daddy?” He licks my pussy over my underwear, I only moan, to the I feel a harsh slap on my thigh, I moan again but this time louder. “that’s not a fucking answer, tell me who made you this wet or I won’t let you cum tonight”  He is asking with a dominance tone of voice. “You did daddy, its all for you” I told him.

He rip my panties off after that, and spread my legs wide. with one finger he when rub up and down between my pussy lips. after doing so a couple times, he came and said “suck on it” and that’s exactly what I did, I suck on his fingers. “that’s right, be a good girl and get nice and wet fo’ me to use on your pretty cunt” he said and I moan on his fingers. He when back down between my legs and with two fingers I felt him spread my pussy lips and with the one I suck on he started to finger me while with his tongue he lick around my clit teasing it. not too long after he added another finger. His thrust with his fingers when faster, sloppier, and you could hear a slapping sound every time he when in and out my cunt. I was moaning like crazy, everything he was doing felt so good, almost too good to be true. Out of the fucking he started to suck harshly on my swollen clit, I could feel the his tongue play with it, you also could hear sucking noises. 

Everything was happening so fast, “fuck daddy!”, I moan and kept moaning louder and louder. he was eating me out so good. I had tears at the corner of my eyes, I was about to cum. Daddy seem to notice this because just when I was about to cum he stop everything he was doing to my pussy. He came up from in between my legs to my face and said “You are not coming anywhere else besides daddy’s cock tonight little girl” with his deep british accent.

He then spread my legs out even more, he position himself at my entrance and with the tip of his dick he tease my pussy by going in between my pussy lips and around my entrance. He when to pin my arms down on the bed above my head. “C-condom daddy” I reminded him, what he said shock me “ Daddy’s fucking you raw tonight” He said “what if I get pregnant daddy?” I ask him “guess your having daddy’s baby and its no one business” I didn’t have time to answer before he kiss me. 

Without any sort of warning he slam his big thick cock in my cunt. I moan against his mouth at the feeling of being full. His thrust were rough, and hard. His hips were going circular motions. The bed start to shake, harry move his hands from mind and took a hold of the headboard. H started going faster, and faster. But I want it more. “is t-hat oh all you got” I challenge him, “you want more huh” he said and suddenly his pulling out of me and flipping me on to my stomach. My face against the pillow, he lifted my butt in the air and when back in again. He was holding my waist with his hand while thrusting roughly in and out me. I let out a scream of pleasure and so does he. Every time he pushes in, I push back which he seems to like a lot.  We are both a moaning mess, I’m either moaning or calling him daddy. He is constantly telling me, I’m his good girl and how tight I am. he is also choking me, not enough to stop my breathing but just to make it pleasurable.  The headboard is hitting the wall and the bed is shaking.

He keeps fucking me, harder and a lot more rough than he started and that’s when I feel myself coming. “I’m- da-ddy- Fuck! *moan* Cum!” I manage to say, “you wanna cum don’t you? fucking cum for daddy” he orders me and I do I cum long and hard. “fuck I’m cumming too princess, gonna give you my seed” he cums too, only thing leaving our mouth are moans of pleasure. Once he is done cumming, he pulls out and falls on the bed next to me. We are both trying to catch our breath, fuck my lower body is too sore, I can’t even feel my legs, much more less my pussy. 

I feel harry pull me towards him, I cuddle into him once I’m close enough. “go to sleep little girl, I know you’re tired” He says, petting my hair. “k, daddy” Is the only things I say before falling asleep on his chest. 

~~~~~~~

Next Day

Y/N POV 

After last night harry hasn’t left my side at all today, everyone is looking at us. I still can’t walk properly but I’m trying . Harry said he is taking me out on date which should be excited. Anyways we are currently seated at one the chairs in the hotels lobby. One thing is that everyone has been giving us teasing smiles, and has made a lot of sex reference comments towards us. 

OMG what if they all heard us last night! 

I go pale at the thought

“Y/N are you okay?” Harry ask 

I was about to answer but I was interrupted by two very familiar voices 

“so are you pregnant yet?” Lia ask

“We heart noises last night” Tasha said wiggling her eyebrows

“yeah *makes moaning noise*” Lia demonstrated

I blushed and told them “I- shut up you two” 

“that’s what we should’ve told you guys last night, right guys?” Said Tasha

Everyone else around us just nodded and agree with Tasha

Harry turn pink and look away, I was just seated embarrassed that they heard us last night

Oh god what have I done...

********

I have no words, This was really interesting  to write, fun fact I laugh at lot while writing the smut part of this for some weird reason... Anyways Thank you so much for reading



[the-awkward-outlaw]

“They’re going to love you, don’t worry!” With Arthur/reader? He’s introducing her/them to the gang for the first time 🥺 ilysm

My friend, I am so sorry for taking so long on answering this!!!!! I feel bad cuz you sent this in like 6 months ago!!!!! Anyways, I promise for the rest of you who have sent in ideas, I’m getting to them!! Please don’t lose faith in me, or as Dutch would say, “Have some goddamn faith!” 

Masterlist

Read on AO3

You fidget with your hands. This feels a bit too soon, and Arthur even admitted it himself. But he also pointed out, for the third time, that it’s the best option for you at this moment. After all, you’ve nowhere to go now. Arthur’s gang is the safest place for an outlaw like you. 

You and Arthur have been dating for a few months now. When you’d first met, you had an honest job of being a laundress. It didn’t make the best money, but it supported you for the most part. Then you met Arthur, and things started to change for the better. 

Before meeting Arthur, you were a bit of a doormat with people. You had another boyfriend at the time and you let him use you, take your money to buy himself drinks. Once you even caught him sleeping with a saloon girl and found he’d used money he borrowed from you to pay her. That was when you broke things off, but it left your confidence shattered. 

You’d caught your ex bedding the other girl after you’d met Arthur and perhaps it was somewhat lucky your ex gave you an easy out because you’d been wanting to go out with Arthur. It was only your loyalty to your boyfriend that prevented you from doing so until you caught him cheating. Of course, after breaking up with him, he caught you walking down the street hand in hand with Arthur. He’d grown angry and accused you of cheating, which ended up with him getting punched in the jaw from Arthur. 

However Arthur noticed that you’d let your ex scream things and you hadn’t defended yourself. He wanted you to be more confident, so he started to help you. He began to tell you every time he saw you how strong he thought you were and how beautiful. He also taught you how to fight and shoot a gun. Because of him, you started to stand up to people, including some of the folks in town who thought you were a big softie. 

It wasn’t long before you found out Arthur was an outlaw. He accidentally let it slip when he’d been sleep-talking in your bed one night. You confronted him about it in the morning and he admitted the truth to you. Even though he thought you’d dump him, you ended up loving him even more because it allowed you to be more honest and open with him. 

After this, Arthur started to tell you about his gang and the stories of his past. You loved hearing about the things he’d done, the banks he’d robbed, the held up stages and the trains. Of course, Arthur constantly reminded you it wasn’t easy and every robbery had the potential of his death. You didn’t care though. “Certainly a lot more exciting than this life,” you said, but after a while you decided you were okay living your life. After all, it was much safer and you’re guaranteed a warm bed and a roof.

A few more weeks passed and Arthur brought up the idea of maybe introducing you to his gang. After all, most of them knew he was involved with someone and they wanted to know who. You, however, thought this was a bad idea. Sure, you were getting more confident in yourself, but you didn’t think you’d mount up to a whole gang of outlaws who had much more impressive stories than yourself and were undoubtedly much tougher and braver than you. 

Arthur decided that if you didn’t want to go yet, he wasn’t going to make you. But not long after this, you’d gotten off a late shift at your job. As you were walking to your home, your ex stumbled out of the saloon. He was completely plastered, but he still saw you. 

“There’s that whore! Tossed me on the side of the road for that big bastard!” he’d shouted (and slurred). 

“You’re one to talk,” you shot back. “I didn’t bring a prostitute into my bed while I was with you. More than you can say.” 

“You slut, you’re sleeping with that bastard, aren’t you?” 

Your temper spiked at this. Even after all this time, your ex still thought he owned you. “Yeah, and it’s been great! At least he satisfies me!” 

“You bitch! I’ma kill you!” 

You knew your ex was drunk and that he wouldn’t remember anything he’d said in the morning, but his threat didn’t go unnoticed. He’d threatened to kill you multiple times in your relationship and most of the time, he’d been sober. A small crowd had gathered to watch, but you didn’t notice them. 

Your ex reached for his pistol, and so you whipped yours out and pulled the trigger before he had the chance. Thanks to Arthur’s teaching, your bullet met its target in your ex’s chest. He grunted and then fell forward, dead before he hit the ground. 

Just as you were holstering your pistol, the sheriff ran out and saw. Your heart dropped. Your ex was his nephew, and there was absolutely no doubt you’d killed him. Before the sheriff or his men could grab you, you ran. You went to your home and packed up the essentials, then you saddled up your horse and rode away. 

A few days later, you happened to meet with Arthur in Valentine. He’d told you he visited fairly often as it was closest to camp. Once you were with him, you tearfully explained your predicament. 

“It’s okay, darlin’,” he said, pulling you into a protective hug. He then told you that he wanted you to come to his camp where you would be protected. 

That’s where you are now. Walking slowly up the trail on your horse, you can’t help but feel slightly panicked. You don’t belong here, you’re not tough enough to be an outlaw. 

“Arthur,” you say, almost pleading. He turns his horse to look back at you. His brow furrows a bit when he sees your face and then he dismounts. Once he’s standing next to your horse, he helps you off. 

“Darlin’, it’ll be okay. You don’t need to worry about nothin’.” 

“But… Arthur, I don’t belong here. From everything you’ve told me about them, they’re so much… tougher and braver than I am. I… I’m just a laundress, Arthur. I could never rob a train or hold up a stage. I’ve never even slept under the stars before. Not like you and the rest of them.”

Arthur sighs and puts his hands on your upper arm. 

“Sweetheart, just because you ain’t never done those things, don’t mean you can’t learn. I promise, it’ll be okay. Some of ‘em can be tough, but long as you don’t let ‘em frighten ya or just laze around, you’ll be fine.” 

You shake your head. “Arthur, they’re not going to like me. Some privileged girl like me. I’m the kind of girl outlaws like y’all hate.”

“Darlin’, they are goin’ to love you. I’m an outlaw and I love you. You don’t need to worry.” He pulls you into a tight hug, letting you burrow your face into his chest. He squeezes your shoulders and then pulls away. 

“Now come on, sweetheart. Please, come meet my family.” 

You swallow and buck up your courage, then nod. Arthur gives you a glowing smile and a small kiss before leading you up to the camp on foot (he’ll get the horses up to camp later). Once in view of camp, you relax, seeing the tents and wagons. For some reason, you’d been under the impression that a gang of outlaws surely would’ve had signs of their crimes laying all over the place. Instead it’s very average for a camp. Not only that, but you see people of all kinds. Even a couple of women and a young boy. Already you feel a little less out of place. 

For the next few hours, you and Arthur are relatively the center of attention, mostly because everyone is so curious about the woman who finally captured Arthur Morgan’s heart without breaking it. You find yourself liking quite a few of them, especially the tall lean man named Hosea and you gravitate towards the woman named Tilly. 

By nightfall, you’ve relaxed considerably. You’re sitting on a log near the main campfire, your hand in Arthur’s. He’s stayed in camp all day, helping out with some of the chores or playing poker. As the man Uncle tells a story around the fire, you lean into Arthur. For the first time since you shot your ex, you feel safe. But then you notice that for the first time in your life, you feel like you belong somewhere. These people around you accept you without judgment. Even when you admitted you were a laundress, none of them made you feel bad for it. In fact, the woman Susan Grimshaw said you’d be of use for your experience (of course you’re not entirely sure what she means at this moment).

You’re growing tired as you lean on Arthur’s arm. He squeezes your hand and you look up at him. Despite knowing how shy he can be around other people and you’ve definitely noticed he’s less touchy in this camp, you stretch up and give him a small kiss. He gratefully returns it. When you part, you smile at him.

“Thank you for bringing me, Arthur.” 

“You’re welcome, darlin’. I told ya you’d fit right in.”

Arthur surprises you by sliding his hand over your cheek and bringing you in for a deep kiss. He doesn’t even care who sees. In fact, he hopes they do see so they can know how much he loves you.

[trafficlightchild]

So you want to buy a copy of Unlocked

This post is made as a educational guide to the current situation with Keeper of the Lost Cities newest book, Unlocked.

Over the past few days, many people have suggested boycotting the hardcover editions of Unlocked due to one VERY IMPORTANT read: this is that the main artist featured, L*ura H*ll*ngsw*rth, is homophobic and we do not want to support her. As a queer person, it really hurts to see a series that I’ve loved for almost 7 years now. However, many of us still want to read the book and support other people behind this project. For me personally, I especially want to support my local book store and the US postal service during this time. So, what are alternatives?

1. EMAIL SHANNON’S PUBLISHER

Shannon just finished unlock TODAY - this means that the book had yet to be printed and that there is still time to get L*ura’s art out of the book. The book still also has to be edited so we have time. Even if the art isn’t taken out due to payments already being made, this could end the arrangement between the series and her AND we could possibly get a new official artist. Even if we sadly don’t get that either, showing S&S we don’t want to buy books with her art in them will hopefully make them not want to work with her in the future.

2. BUY THE AUDIOBOOK

The main reason that this is my suggestion is that it’s the only version where you can guarantee L*ura will not make any profits because there are no physical or digital pages. Through the research I’ve been doing, I can’t find anything that indicates that official KOTLC narrator, Caitlin Kelly, is homophobic. Audiobooks can be expensive, especially since all KOTLC are Audible exclusives, but Audible does offer a free trial that comes with 1 free audiobook and you can keep the book after you cancel your subscription. Also, if any of you do know if Caitlin is homophobic please reblog with that information and I’ll edit this.

3. BUY THE NOOK VERSION

This is probably seem like what a lot of people are going to do. As of right now, the Nook app does not support/load art that goes along with books such as KOTLC. This would also be cheaper than getting the audiobook version. However, there are two things that concern me about this; first being that  while we know most artists are paid in advance, we can’t say that Laura will make no profit from sales with her art in it. There are many unknowns in this field and many of us are trying to do more research about this. I’ve been looking at two accounts in particular on Instagram (I don’t know if they have tumblrs so I’m tagging there instagram handles) and I suggest you check both @/ahsokatano13 and @/dexs.mother out. the second reason is that the Nook app has been having a lot of updates recently and by the time Unlocked comes out, they could have found a way to load/support the art in the book.

4. WAIT OR BORROW THE BOOK

Use your library or your local KOTLC friends - it may take longer for you to read it but this way you won’t be supporting L*ura. You can also wait even longer and purchase the paperback version.

and lastly

5. DONATE THE SAME AMOUNT TO LGBTQIPAA+ INDIVUALS/GROUPS

Many people preorder months in advance and it’s fine if you did, since this art portion information was only revealed recently. So, treat buying this book like shopping at a place like Ch*ck F*l A. Is every single individual behind this purposes homophobic? No. There are no many people that are behind that KOTLC books other than Shannon - the people who print, who box, who ship, who sell, etc. So rather than purchasing this book and then feeling guilty about it, find out the exact price you spent on the book itself and donate, if you can, that exact amount to a queer foundation or individual. If you can donate double, that's great! If you can only spare a few dollars right now, that’s great too. As long as you give some money back to the people that are being affect by the decision to use a homophobic artist in this book, that sort-of evens out things in my eyes.

At the end of the day, every KOTLC fan is an individual. Some fans aren’t even aware of this situation, some fans don’t know how to handle it, etc. I made this post to be educational and provide options for other KOTLC fans.

[alpacaparkaseok]

Happy Holidays - BTS Style

4. “It’s not much, but it’s ours.”

11. “Ok, you take aisles 5-9, I’ll tackle anyone who gets in your way.”

Pairing: Jungkook x reader (Nicole)

It’s been a long day. 

Nicole’s steps are heavy as she trudges home, trying her best to keep a pleasant expression on her face for all the strangers that pass by. The only thing that’s on her mind is getting home, getting warm, and snuggling up in some blankets as soon as possible. 

Today the only thing she could think about at work was how this was not where she wanted to be in life. There seemed to be so many amazing things just out of reach, and it was killing her. 

What killed her even more was knowing that she would always be two steps behind her best friend, Jungkook. The boy already had his entire life set, he was already the most beloved idol in the world and had the finances, body, and worth ethic to go with it. 

It’s not like she was jealous...it just hurt sometimes. It was a strange bittersweet ache in her chest as she chewed him on and simultaneously stared at her own reflection and wondered if she was ever going to move up in life. 

When she arrives at her apartment, it doesn’t come as much of a surprise to see that somebody’s already there. 

“Helloooo Nicooole,” Jungkook sings as soon as she walks in the door, jumping up off the couch to greet her. Nicole manages a small smile, mentally preparing herself to just forget her own problems for a while.

Jungkook doesn’t buy her fake smile for a single second. Soon he’s standing in front of her with a concerned expression. 

“What’s going on?” He asks, gently easing her coat off before pulling her into his embrace. Nicole lets out a sigh as she rests against him, a little bit of the exhaustion from the day fading away as she breathes in his scent. 

“Long day,” Nicole mumbles. Jungkook doesn’t need to know anything else, instead taking the initiative and grabbing his keys where he left them on her counter. 

“C’mon, I think I know something that’ll cheer you up.”

Nicole doesn’t even have it in her to protest leaving now that she’s just gotten home, she just quietly follows Jungkook out the door. He gives her another worried look before slipping his hat and mask on, attempting to save himself form prying eyes. 

Nicole hasn’t hardly said a word by the time they show up at the supermarket, a thin crease appearing where she furrows her brows. 

Jungkook leads her inside, keeping his head down as he leans over to whisper something to her. 

“Ok, you take aisles 5-9, I’ll tackle anyone who gets in your way.”

Shooting him a quizzical look, Nicole starts toward aisle five, her face immediately breaking out into a smile when she sees where they’re heading. 

The market has an enormous display of ugly sweaters, long socks, and beanies that completely take up aisles 5-9. 

“You...” Nicole starts to laugh as she turns to look at Jungkook, who’s still standing behind her with his head down. “Can I get one?”

Jungkook snorts. “Why else do you think we’re here?”

It’s as if some sort of string was cut that was holding her back, because Nicole immediately throws herself into the fray. Jungkook hovers nearby, trying his best to remain unnoticed. 

They’ve just managed to pick out a couple of sweaters when a group of girls start to realize that they’re shopping next to Jeon Jungkook. 

As they begin to scream, Jungkook looks at Nicole with wide eyes. Nicole returns the look, shrugging. 

“Er, you pick out what you want,” Jungkook scrambles for his wallet, pulling his black card out and handing it to Nicole, “I’ll be in the car!”

Without another word he takes off, a trail of people behind him. Nicole stares down at the black card, laughing. 

“This idiot...”

She hurries to pick out a sweater, immediately grabbing one for Jungkook when she sees a couple’s sweater. It’s absolutely hideous, but it’s guaranteed to make him laugh. 

Carrying her sweaters up to the cash register, she slips into line just as the girls return from where they were chasing down Jungkook. Now they’re on the lookout for Nicole, wanting to know who the mystery girl was. 

She lets out a sigh of relief when she finally makes it to the register, the cashier giving her a strange look when she produces the black card to pay with. 

“It’s a long story,” Nicole mumbles as she pays. Her face is burning bright red by the time she exits the store, and she watches as Jungkook brings the car around. Jumping in, she starts to laugh. 

“What did you get?” Jungkook asks, maneuvering the car to an empty stall at the far end of the parking lot. Nicole takes the sweaters out of the bag, holding them up. 

Jungkook’s nose scrunches up as he looks at the sweaters, Nicole’s being a reindeer with Christmas lights on its antlers and Jungkook’s a reindeer with a mustache. 

“No way!” He shouts, immediately grabbing it and putting it on over his shirt. “This is amazing!”

Nicole can’t help but laugh at her friend, feeling 10,000 times better now that she’s spent some time with him.

“Oh, here’s your card, doofus.” She hands him his black card, chuckling as his cheeks go a little red. “I can’t believe you made me pay a total of $44.50 with a black card.”

Jungkook shrugs, tucking the card into his wallet. “You know, you can borrow it whenever.”

“What, are we married now or something?”

Jungkook’s cheeks go even redder. Staring down at his wallet, he shrugs. “I mean it. If you ever want to go shopping or something, I’ll pitch in. You...you mean a lot to me. And I can’t always be around to show you that, but maybe this is a good start.” Jungkook glances over at Nicole, who has effectively stopped breathing. “It’s not much, but it’s ours.”

Nicole knows that it’s a sentimental moment - did Jungkook just admit that he has feelings for her?! - but she can’t help but burst out laughing. 

Jungkook looks taken aback. “What are you laughing about?!”

Wiping the tears from her eyes, Nicole can’t seem to quit giggling. “Did you really just say that about your black card? ‘It’s not much but it’s ours’? Jungkook, do you have any idea how much money is on that thi-”

Jungkook leans across the seat, planting a soft kiss on Nicole’s cheek before putting the car into drive, his ears turning a furious shade of red. 

“You know what I mean.” Jungkook sighs, hoping that he managed to make Nicole feel even half as happy as she makes him. 

masterlist

[socialwriter]

Ch.1- Welcome to the Moulin Rouge

Listen alongside: This and this

Pairing: JJ Maybank x Female Reader

1.5 K words

TW: Prostitution, cursing, insinuations of criminal activity

A/n: This is chapter one of my Moulin Rouge series, I hope you enjoy! This is mainly to set up the coming chapters, so it will get better!

Our story begins in Paris, at the turn of the 20th century…

 It's a crisp night, and all the patrons rush into the Moulin Rouge to escape the weather, the anticipation of what the night may hold causing a jump in their step. They would get a show complete with singing, dancing, and the fulfillment of their wildest, lust-filled fantasies. Liquor flows freely from bottle to cup, the intoxication of the guests no doubt a ploy so that all frugality may be forgotten while in the establishment. They were destined to see the performances of many, but it was unspoken common knowledge that they all came for one person. Her…

 As the lights dimmed and latecomers scrambled to their seats, Topper Thorton, the owner and MC of the establishment, made his way onstage. He had built the business from the ground up, a way to provide housing and an income for many girls with no other option, living on the streets. He had begged, borrowed, and stolen, and was willing to do anything to keep the establishment open. It may not seem like it on a surface level, but Topper deeply cared for the girls, and in fact, what he did to keep the business running, he was really doing for them. Without the Moulin Rouge, most of his performers would be left homeless and hungry, a fate that Thorton would not accept, no matter what it cost him. He was hopeful that with the plan he had enacted involving his right-hand woman and best performer, he might save the place from going under. 

 "Hello, chickens!Yes! It's me your own beloved Topper Thornton in the flesh! Welcome...To the Moulin Rouge!" He exclaimed, earning polite applause from the night's audience. 

 "Now, are you ready for our dazzling opening duo… Sarah and Kiara!"

  The curtains were pulled back, revealing the two girls clad in red corsets and black fishnets. Thornton had learned his tricks throughout the years. Put your top performers first to initially  pull the audience in, and leave the best for last so that the audience stays engaged throughout the show. Sarah and Kiara were some of his best, ruthless in their pursuit of position as the best performer of all the girls of the Moulin Rouge. They used all the tricks in the book. Their voices. Their dance moves. Their bodies. Never had they had a dissatisfied customer. They made Topper proud, never doing any wrong. Yet they could never be at the top of the pecking order. That spot was reserved for one person and one person only. 

 The Moulin Rouge was a prime example of the economic divide, with both the rich and the poor flocking there to spend whatever money they could on a fun night. The rich aristocrats with their pristine suits and crisp white shirts sat in booths, sheltered off from who they deemed the lowlife Bohemians. These lowlife Bohemians, while clad in their best attire, looked unkempt compared to the rich. Their pants donned holes and stains, while their jackets frayed at the edges. And as Topper's top priority for his business was money, he made sure that the aristocrats received the best services, copious drinks, and the best seats for entertainment, while the Bohemians were left with the scraps.

 The wealthiest and most pompous of all the aristocrats had to be Rafe Cameron, the Duke of Monroth, sat in the centermost booth. All the performers were instructed to visit him and his posse most often, as he always paid with the biggest bills. Rafe Cameron was to be used as a cash cow, milked for every penny he would give, all in an effort to save the Moulin Rouge. He was, at best, an asshole to those he disliked and at worst..well at worst, he wasn't able to be called a name at all. 

 The two Bohemians that had been a thorn in Thornton's side the entirety of his time at the Moulin Rouge were no doubt John B Routledge and Pope Heyward. The two of them always snuck in, never paying, distracting from the performances, and mooching off the wealthy for free booze. They were bad for business, but like cockroaches, they never could be exterminated, and they now had added a third member to their band of misfits: JJ Maybank.

----

 JJ ventured through the streets of Paris that afternoon, absorbing all the new city's sights. The blond was fresh off a boat from America, and he had moved to France, hoping to share his music with the world. However, his quiet walk around the city was interrupted by the bickering of two men a little ways away. They were loudly arguing and flailing their arms, but the second JJ heard them aggressively singing tunes at each other, his interest was piqued, and he approached the two men. "I'm sorry, but what exactly is going on?"

 The dark-skinned man stood up, placing his hand on JJ's shoulder, much to JJ's surprise. He had just met the men, but he had been told that the people in France were often more affectionate than those in America. "We can't decide what sounds better for our show. I think that the line should go 'the hills are alive, with the sound of clanging.'" The man with his hand on JJ's shoulder explained, to which the brown-haired man stood up, shaking his head.

 "No, it should go 'the hills are alive, with the bells and chimes."

 "See, that just sounds wrong."

 "If I'm wrong, then you're really wrong."

 JJ furrowed his brow, glancing between the two bickering men. He didn't need his musical abilities to tell you that neither option sounded good. "Um, actually, what if you went with 'the hills are alive, with the sound of music'?" He sang out, looking at the two men who both had a look of shock on their faces, mouths slightly ajar.

 "That's...genius!" The brown-haired man exclaimed, looking at his friend, both grinning. "You must work with us on our show, it's going to be the big-ticket item that gets us out of this hell hole. So, what's your name, friend?"

 He hadn't really noticed it before, but it appeared that JJ had stepped into the poorer part of the city, which was presumably where the two men lived. The paint on the walls was chipped and faded and the only bench on the entire street were the two crates that the men were sitting on earlier. It seemed like these two men just wanted to make it big and create a better life for themselves, something JJ had always hoped for. And if he got to share his music with the world while he did it..well he was sold. "JJ. My name's JJ Maybank." He said, shaking the hands of both men.

 The more affectionate man grinned, patting JJ on the back. "Well I'm Pope Heyward, and he's John B. And Mr.Maybank, we may need to use you for more than your musical talents." Pope uttered seriously, looking JJ directly in the eye. "I,um-what?"

 "You see, the Moulin Rouge is the most well known theatre in all of Paris. You get your show in there, and you're guaranteed success." John B explained to the blue eyed boy. "The problem is, our reputation," he gestured to himself and Pope, "precedes us at that place. We need a new face like yours to get our show even considered by the big dogs. We're gonna need you to talk to the it girl of the club. Thornton will do anything she wants, so you convince her, we're in. Can you do that for us JJ?" 

 Both Pope and John B looked at JJ hopefully, and JJ didn't have the heart to tell them no. Despite only knowing them for a short time, JJ had the feeling that he would grow very close to them, forging a bond of brothers. "Okay, I'll do it."

---

 The trio of Bohemians had snuck into the Moulin Rouge after the show had begun, the dark lights making it difficult to see exactly who was sneaking into the building. "All right, one of the middle booths is open." Pope whispered to the other two boys, to which John B excitedly quickened his pace to snag the seats. JJ didn't see the big deal, it was just a set for crying out loud. 

 When the three were situated, John B leaned over to JJ, filling him in on the ways of the Moulin Rouge. "You don't know it, but we just snagged the best seats in the house. This is where all the girls give their attention to, making your 'mission' that much easier." John B clarified, causing JJ to form an 'o' with his mouth. 

 "She'll be on any minute, JJ, get ready," Pope murmured, the energy at the booth going from joking and fun to serious. These boys had a mission, and JJ didn't want to let his new friends down. But nothing could have prepared him for what he was in store for.

 "Ladies and Gentlemen, may I present to you our "Sparkling Diamond" The unique, the indomitable, the one and only! Y/n." 

 The curtain rose, and JJ's mouth instantly went dry when the most beautiful woman he had ever seen walked onstage. Immediately, butterflies erupted in his chest. He realized that this mission of his was going to be much harder than he had initially anticipated. 

 Tags-

@normatural​ @thelonewolfdies​ @bricksatanakinswindow​ @ssjiara​

ppl who expressed interest (I’m only tagging u for this chap dw)- @heliopvth​ @girlsru1eboysdroo1​ @spilledtee​ @obxmxybxnk​ @denimandcurls​ @pogue-writings​ @adoreyoudrews​ @stargazingstarkey​ @queenk00k​ @tomfreakinghollandneedsaoscar​ @downbytheouterbanks​ @summerintheobx​ @shawnssongs​ @lefthandwritings​

[kikiyakno]

✧ Little Star

Date → Some day during the week prior to the Masquerade event. Feb 2021 Setting → Kian’s Grandparent’s Home. Santa Monica, California Triggers  → None, but does include descriptors of fish cutting so if that’s not your cup of tea... Mentioned  → Yi Jae-Sang , Seong Sunwoo , Brandon Kelly, Song Minjoon , Maverick Maxwell, Yong Chul Synopsis  →  ★ Stars are born when large gas clouds collapse under gravity.

The invitation was weird, it was random, it definitely was fishier than whatever fish it was Kian’s grandmother was scaling on the cutting board, but Kian held the weirdrandomandveryfishy invitation close to his chest. This was it. This was exactly the shimmering gold ticket his family and their restaurant needed that would definitely turn everything around.

Except…Gyeonggi Grill was having no part of it.

Just about every eatery in Pico was on board, even the ones Kian didn’t particularly think should be serving food (looking at you Pete’s Palace) and the ones he personally considered to be competition. There was no haste in the flood of Facebook posts on his feed of businesses confirming and promoting their attendance in response to the mysterious invite. It was hard not to feel the clamoring excitement over a party at an art museum. The more he refreshed pages, the more he heard about people talking of it between deliveries, the more Kian felt that this was possibly the shining light for Gijis to be seen again. They would sign up, get paid for it, and best of all to serve new people ~rich people~ to ultimately bring business back in. 

This big chance and his grandparents were radio silent. Kian couldn’t understand.

“Momo,” Kian whined loudly to his grandmother with a soft bounce on his heel. Even with his call the older woman didn’t look up from her work and feed into his melodramatic call. He huffed, the lack of response making his brows deepen further in frustration. “Momo, everyone who’s anyone will be there. They’re paying vendors to be there. This went out to a ton of people, probably everyone we know! Seriously! Everyone’s talking about it. This isn’t just something someone planned on the block, yakno. It’s a huge deal.” 

The pressed enunciations of his words make Kian stop to take a breath. In consideration, he defaulted to speaking in Korean when he was at home and not surrounded by any of his friends. His grandparents had never requested that he do so, but on his own Kian decided that it was a  respectful gesture. Just because English was his preferred language, forcing them to speak it with him didn’t seem fair. It takes him seconds to catch his breath before Kian starts up again.

“This party is exactly what we need, Momo. We can serve…..we can serve the soy garlic chicken! And you know people absolutely love our fried chicken. They talk about how good it is all the time! You know normal chicken places in America don’t double fry. And when they try, it sucks. That’s what makes ours so good! We can stand out with that! Guaranteed!” 

His grandma still didn’t respond, head down and much busier in her re-work of separating scales from the fish. However, there was a soft smile that had made a way to her face now. The passion and sincerity in his voice tickled her ears, especially when a little twist of the accent Kian had arrived at her doorstep with slipped free. Her grandson spoke with fire but not the kind that sought to burn others. He also spoke awfully fast. Which wasn’t too out of the norm for her grandson. Years ago she noticed Jae, Sunwoo, and Kian all shared that oddity.

The lull in the room pressed in on Kian and he broke through it with a giant huff. He waited still, watching her work the knife with expertise. He bit his lip to stop the clench of his jaw and the tightness from impatience building in his throat.

 “Mo—“ “Do you want to cut the fish? It’s your favorite before I clean it.” 

Cut short mid breath, Kian blinked wide at the knife being placed aside for him. She still didn’t look at him, but stepped aside for him to join her. The words sitting on his tongue blew away on a sigh, obediently setting the invite away and beelining to the sink to wash his hands. He steps beside her to take the knife as he starts cutting through the skin. The silence lingers on, aside from the edge of the knife occasionally drags against the cutting board. Kian works as asked, but fast. His cuts are clean and precise despite having his conversation stalled.

“You aren’t listening to me.” He says in an undertone, looking down at his work as he goes.  “I am, Ki-Hyun. I am listening.” Her voice is fond and silvery. Kian knew he was doing his cutting well. “Then why aren’t we joining everyone? Why aren’t we preparing for the event, Momo. We can serve food there.”  “...” “They will give us money. They pay, it won’t be free yakno.” “...” “A lot of people will be there. A lot of people who will love our food like they used to.” “...” “Maybe it’ll be enough money to help us catch up, Momo.”  “Kiki, please slow down and watch your cut.” “Please stop ignoring what I am saying.” Kian’s voice rises a few notches from his soft mutter. He pauses his cutting, noting how his clean work had suffered as he had tried to discuss. He evaluates briefly if his volume had gone too high to be seen as disrespectful, or if he could go on. Soon after he disregards his worry. He was tired of making these pleas and not getting answers. “Why are we not participating? Why aren’t we going?”

The sharpness in his tone takes her by surprise, but she is no stranger to determination. She can’t fight the look on her grandson’s face anymore, sighing herself before she gingerly responds.“...We can’t afford to close an entire day, Ki-Hyun. That’s a day’s business lost.” 

“They’ll pay twice that! Maybe triple than what we make in a day!” 

“We can’t guarantee that, Ki.”

“I can! It’s all over Facebook! Twitter! Other businesses saying they’ll be there and got paid! Remember when I made those accounts for us? People have tagged us—ah, mentioned us! They want to know if we’ll be there.” His voice brightens, contrasting her modulated one. His falters down instantly, however, seeing how her eyes widen then dampen in gentle confusion. Social media was still an entirely new world language for her. “Customers that are going to the party are asking about our food being there. They want us to be there too, Momo.” He defines for her with warmth. Kian can see her understand with his explanation, but she looks away from him before he can see a different turmoil in her eyes.

“We can’t gamble on something everyone else sees as lucrative. And...it would have to be more than a day to prepare for such a large number of people…that means we would have to close for longer to accommodate. Everyone on our staff would have to work longer.”

“Right, and then I’ll get Jae and DaeDae and Mason, and some of my new friends to help us all out and make things easier. And-and Minjoon loves being in the kitchen. If not, him and Chul have networks online too! I know they’d be super happy to help us find the hands we need. Maverick likes food trucks and stuff, he could talk to people! Oh, and Brandon might could help us with clothes and let us borrow something nice to go in!”

“Ki-Hyun.”

“He would find you a really nice dress. Remember I told you that’s what he does, yakno? He’s really good at it. Remember he called me from out of town? He was in a Fashion Show out of state! People love his stuff!” 

“Ki-Hyun.”

“And you know Jae would probably take off all his jobs to help. DaeDae would help too. Buuttt he’s the only one we might have to pay with food, so—” “Ki-Hyun.” Kian stops. Moreso to take a breath than to listen.

“Ki-Hyun, we don’t even have enough in our inventory right now to do so.”

“Yes we do, we—” “Kiki.” 

Kian blinked wide, and she simply shook her head against it. He hadn’t even finished! Each idea of his was shot down in seconds.

Excuses, excuses, excuses. These weren’t answers they were excuses. He didn’t notice how his hands had started trembling or how an ill taste of bitterness wrapped around his tongue. 

“Maybe if you stopped preparing that sweet chili wing combo every Monday and Wednesday night, we would have enough.”

“Kian!” 

“Momo, if Sunwoo was going to come back he would’ve by now. I told you that. But you still do that every night for two days a week. It’s been a month. That’s four weeks. Combos come with six pieces, but you give him two extra. So that’s about thirty-two pieces of meat we’ve had to throw out in the last month because of one person that could’ve fed five or more people.”

Kian knew he had crossed a line and he could see it in her face. He braced for anything, but she only fired right back at him.“And I will keep making what I want for him because those are his nights he works late. It’s too late and dangerous for him to stop anywhere else!”  

“You don’t get it. He doesn’t CARE!” Exploding, Kian lets knife go to drop onto the table as his world suddenly blurs. “He doesn’t care! He-He doesn’t care and he won’t come back! They aren’t coming back. Cause they don’t care. They don’t care. And YOU don’t care!” Kian steps back, immediately remorseful but a throaty sob obstructs his apology. The busy pattern on his grandma’s shirt melds into one in the watery world. “You don’t care! You won’t let me help. You don’t think I know we’re behind! I work because I know we’re in trouble. But you and Grandpa keep...trying to HIDE it and not make me worry. But that just makes it worse! I worry anyways! I’m 27 now and you’re getting older, but I see you work every single day. Then you come home, tired, but then for ME you pretend we’re doing okay when we’re not. We’re NOT!! No matter what we do it’s not enough. I keep working and working and working and working but it’s just not enough! It’s not enough for you to stop pretending like I can’t help! It’s not enough for my friends to feeling like they don’t have to baby me and take care of me and pay for me to eat all the time! It’s not enough for me to ever see you stop working, or rest well at night, or for us to think about taking road trips like we used to or flying away on vacation!” Kian stops to wipe his face with his sleeves in a rush, face wet as though he had been standing in rain. He pushes his face into them to have his cry, only to feel his chest heave in harder when in the brief darkness he only imagines the glittering, serene lights of Paris. He shuts his eyes tighter and tears his face away in a hurry, feeling the accumulation of months of his world caving in on itself finally collapsing on top of him. 

“I-I’m tired, halmeoni. I’m tired of us pretending. This is our one chance and you say no! Why are you giving it up so easily? Why are you giving up?! Wh-wh-why am I the only one who cares? N-N-No one cares! No one cares but me!”

Kian feels like he’s going to give way again before strong arms pull him close from behind. He breaks regardless, knowing now that at some point his Grandfather had come into the room. At this point Kian’s grief commanded his outburst.

“I’m sorry i’m not Kyung-soo. I’m sorry i’m not good like Kyung-soo so you could finally rest and have plenty of money and friends and nice clothes like he does. If I wasn’t here your family would love you and send you the money you need and you wouldn’t be dealing with this. They won’t even help you because of me. It’s my fault. I’m so sorry we can’t be happy and enjoy things like normal people. I’m so—!”

Kian felt warm hands take his cheeks and his body be squeezed harder. Momo had been hushing him and only at her touch had he quieted. He didn’t know how long she had been trying to, but his Grandfather’s face was buried heavy into his shoulder. Momo smiled, relieved to see that she had gotten through to him, but Kian could finally see her face was just as wet—and tired—as his. As familiar as she was to determination, her heart ached to see overwhelming frustration cripple the brightest heart she knew. She could be angry, she could be upset, but while Kian said one thing, she heard another. Hopes, wishes, blame, and shame but most of all that passion and sincerity.  Yes, it hurt to be the one hit by his fire this time, but this detonation of Kian’s was different than all the others she seen before it. She swiped over his cheeks with her thumbs, still working on a smile despite her own tears.

"Don’t let go of any of those dreams of yours, little one. We will figure this out just like we’ve figured out everything else. Keep hoping. It’ll be alright. I promise.”

[resinatingbeauty]

A 'Witch Shop' Owner's Plea Before Casting That Love Spell

I don't personally offer many spell kits, mojo bags, etc. In my shop and avoid selling my 'Craft', as in, I don't advertise or list spell casting among my offerings, though I have had a couple of customers specifically ask if I could perform a spell I offered as a kit on their behalf for whatever reason. This is because I personally believe that the journey is just as important as the destination in witchcraft and many of the spell kits / spells I do offer are designed in such a way to soothe, relax, release, and heal throughout the process. Honestly, in addition, I really don't want the responsibility associated with performing magick on someone else's behalf for many reasons. The strength of my intent is not going to be as strong as yours, for example. Even if I effectively channel your energy, creating that personal connection between the beneficiary and the intent or purpose of the spell work is incredibly difficult at a distance. I'm always wary of other shops advertising this type of service- the sad truth of the matter is our little niche has been permeated by scammers, con artists, and frauds looking to take advantage of anyone looking for a solution to whatever it is that has them at this low point in life. I will tell you, more often than not it's love spells that the customer is after, and they are apt to find many options on Etsy, the platform I primarily do business on, and beyond.

I distinctly think of one potential customer who had contacted me one night obviously very upset. My heart went out to her immediately - I could just tell by what she was saying and how quickly she responded to me that she was in a state of panic and extreme emotional distress. She isn't the only one, but she stands out from the others as her desire to win back her ex lover was so strong it was evident that she would do anything and (potentially) pay anything for a chance to get things back to the way they were in her love life.

I am a human being. I have been given this amazing opportunity to pursue my passion to share my creations and spiritual / metaphysical knowledge with the world through my work. I understood a long time ago that this also meant I had a responsibility to do my best to help those in need and never knowingly harm, much like a doctor commuting to the Hippocratic oath. This may make me a flat out horrible business woman, but I would rather not sell someone on something I don't believe is going to help their situation. In fact, love spells usually make things worse. I'll get to that momentarily.

"Is there a spell to make her see what she has done wrong and to make her love and want me again?"

I allowed this customer to explain to me the situation and took the time to hear her out after telling her that I'm sure that she could find something like that elsewhere and someone else willing to sell her a spell kit or cast that spell, but I urged her to take a deep breath and talk to me before she did something that she would regret.

Thankfully, she spent the next hour or so explaining her situation and elaborating on everything that has happened in her relationship. It was one of those on again / off again things that so many of us get trapped in. Understandable, considering once you establish that strong bond of love, whether one sided or not, it's incredibly hard to cut that cord and move on especially if you're so emotionally invested (and maybe even financially invested) in this other individual who has had your heart for so long you can't imagine giving it to anyone else.

This PSA goes out to the broken hearted of all walks, as this is a universal experience for anyone who has been in love. There may not be someone to stop you from pursuing what you think will fix everything as I did for her, but I'm hoping if you read this, you'll think twice about acquiring and performing love spells or any magick in hopes that it will provide a quick fix to any situation.

•Beware the Opportunistic Con / Scam

Our field is flooded with scammers, con artists, and frauds that exclusively cater to those in this sweet girl's position and anyone who is vulnerable due to emotional distress or panic. Whether you need a love spell like she did to win back her ex or a quick fix to get more money in the bank or what have you, beware those that have used spiritual advisory and witchcraft as a means to peddle you their high priced garbaged. This is a tough one, as you may have a hard time deciphering what is 'legit' and what isn't, but there are some signs and facts you can look for when browsing these shops / websites.

-They promise / guarantee results within a specific or unrealistic time frame

Magick takes time to manifest and the true story is that nobody has a 100% satisfaction guaranteed spell book. More often than not, when spells come to fruition, it often isn't quite the way you would expect it to, either. Anyone promising a quick fix to anything is most likely just trying to take advantage of you when you are vulnerable and you better believe there will be no money back guarantee if said garbage doesn't work for you. OR, they like to do one of these:

-"Oh, your situation is worse than I thought. You're going to need this and this, with a huge $$$$ price tag."

This starts a never ending cycle of you pouring money into this scammer who will make you believe that it is necessary to do so. That maybe if you did throw them an extra $500 for their thingamajig that you will get what you want. This is only the beginning, as when THAT doesn't do it for you the way you would like, they will claim some other interference, maybe you're cursed or under psychic attack, and need something else even more expensive and elaborate to take care of that before you can even get to what you went to them for in the first place. Anytime someone proposes this type of thing, stop while you're ahead and don't provide them with a guaranteed cash flow that you aren't benefitting from at all. Also, be wary of ANY seller who makes outrageous claims- overnight changes, curing cancer, etc. Are unrealistic expectations.

•Understand What You Truly Need

Maybe it's time to consider an alternative path. The customer I spoke about DID ultimately purchase a tarot spread, which I was much more inclined to do for her than some love spell to win back this girl who has repeatedly broken her heart over the past few years and obviously got a kick out of it, the way she told it, as it was ALWAYS her doing the breaking up and blocking, starting all the drama. I told her I would much rather give her a spell to find her twin flame / soul mate than to win this person back who has perpetually been hurting her and taking advantage of her kindness.

Sometimes it's time to cut the cord before more damage is done. I understand it isn't easy to move on from someone you have loved and cultivated a relationship with over a long period of time, regardless of the negative energy that has invaded the relationship, we DO tend to focus on the positives, which leaves us a bit biased and blind to what we could have and deserve to have.

Take a moment if you are in a relationship situation like this, are beginning to question your current relationship, or are considering taking the next step in any relationship. Sit down with a pen and paper. On one side of the paper, write down all the things you love about that person. All the ways you think they have been the light in your life (be honest and give credit where credit is due!). Now on the other side, list the negatives or cons in your relationship. If one list is noticeably longer than the other, depending on which side it is, it may be time to consider breaking it off, giving things another shot, or taking things to the next level. Ask yourself;

-Do they support me in what I do, even if they don't understand or necessarily agree with it? (So long as it is something healthy -obviously if they're supportive of a bad habit or detrimental behavior, this is more like enabling and not a good thing)

-Do they have my best interests at heart more often than not?

-Do they show that they care? Even in the smallest of ways?

-Could I call them my "best friend?" Am I honest with them?

-Are they honest with me?

-Do they lift me up more than they put me down?

-Do you want the same things in life / have similar priorities?

-Is our relationship valuable to them the same way it is to me?

•LOVE SPELLS NEVER WORK THE WAY YOU WANT

This is the cold hard truth about love spells. Forget the warnings in movies and books, as it is hard to believe them or even take them as a legitimate warning when you haven't had the displeasure of experiencing what a love spell can do for yourself. I have, so you don't have to. This is MY story:

Of course love spells are very appealing when you're a young and naive teenager. I had a strong crush on this guy I had low key been stalking since middle school. I don't know why I liked him so much. Part of it I'm sure was the way he looked (hey, I'm being totally honest!) And how he came across to me. We had absolutely no interaction with each other outside of passing each other in the hallway. He had no idea who I was.

I had just borrowed a copy of Silver Ravenwolf's 'Teen Witch' (which is honestly a fantastic book for teens and young adults just starting to delve into Wiccan practices, which she follows exclusively) from a friend of mine and thought I would try the super simple love spell in the book figuring I had nothing to lose. All it consisted of was focusing on the subject, your intentions, writing their name on a piece of paper, folding it up and placing it under your pillow. I would sleep on that paper for months. I was in middle school just about to go into my freshman year of high school when I performed the spell and would forget about it up until the day it worked, a few months into my freshman year of highschool, when my crush was in the graduating class of that year- literally my last chance to make an impression.

I had gone to a local band's concert that was performing at the school's auditorium one day after classes and was just about to leave when my crush randomly approached me and started talking to me. It was like the whole world just stopped right there. I couldn't believe it. The thought of that spell crossed my mind briefly as we exchanged phone numbers.

Over time and getting to know him, he admittedly wasn't exactly my type. He was still someone whose friendship I valued, but not someone I could really put any effort into dating. About the time I realized this, his personality took a complete 180° turn for the worst. He was stalking me. Blowing up my cell phone (which was a prepaid piece of junk at that time I really couldn't talk on for more than a minute without paying a fortune), so much so one evening when I was at Jukido Jujitsu practice that I came home to something like 32 missed calls and 17 voicemails from him, each one showing gradual frustration and anger. This scared me. I knew I had to confront him about it and break this off before it got worse.

I caught him in a populated area of the school the next day before homeroom- more like he came up to me out of nowhere like he knew I would be passing through that part of the school that day- and I confronted him about the calls,attempting to gently explain to him that I wasn't interested in a relationship and I would like to continue being friends. He blew up at me and threw me against the brick wall of the school, trying to kiss and touch me in front of every single person that walked by. I wish I was making this up.

Thankfully a teacher came and pulled him off. Nothing much else was done. I did my best to avoid him and cut him out of my life entirely from that point on.

I don't know if it was the love spell or if this would have occurred anyways. All I knew was that what had been originally a very sweet, big hearted guy that was soft spoken with low self esteem became a monster in a matter of weeks. The take away from this and what I have personally seen with other's experiences with love spells is that they tend to bring out the worst characteristics of the person they are cast on and you have to be really careful what you are actually asking for when thinking about 'desire' and 'passion.' This intent can quickly lead to stalking, obsession, and not in a good way. Another customer of mine who originally came to me for my Forgiveness Spell Kit and had the desired results also, unbeknownst to me, had someone else perform a love and desire spell in addition to it. The guy that she was reverted into an obsessed jerk who decided to spread rumors about her on social media and beyond, blocked her on all platforms, and would get her friends involved in his quest to make her life miserable. Her story reflects and embodies so many I have heard over the years from others who have dabbled in such spells. When they work, it's just never quite what you had in mind.

So if you came to this blog post in search of a love spell for your personal situation or came across it when you have maybe considered one in the past or know someone who has, please take a deep breath, consider your options, and don't do anything that you may regret down the line. Remember that you are deserving of all the love, respect, support, and happiness one could give another. Do not settle on someone who offers you less and expects more, no matter how much you have invested in them, no matter how many years you have spent with them, as they do not appreciate you for the amazing person you are. I can promise you, however, given some time to heal, you WILL find someone who does.

-Samantha

(Owner /Chaos Witch/Designer)

Blursedbaubles.etsy.com

[asma-al-husna]

Allah calls Himself Al-Musta’aan— The One whose help is sought— on two occasions in the Quran. Al-Musta’aan is the one whose assistance and support are sought and in whom refuge is taken. Any help the creation provides to each other, is through His help alone!

 The One sought for help

Musta’aan comes from the root ‘ayn-waaw-noon which points  to two main meanings. The first main meaning is to seek or ask for help and assistance and the second is to aid, cooperate and help one another. A third meaning is to be middle-aged.

This root appears 11 times in the Quran in five derived forms. Examples of these forms are wa a’aanahu (“and helped him”), ta’aawanoo (“help one another”), nasta’eenu “(we ask for help”) and ‘awaanun (“middle-aged”).

Linguistically, isti’aanah refers to the concept of seeking help. It comes from the same root as nasta’een— we seek help— ta’aawun –help one another- and musta’aan – the one whose help is sought. Allah is Al-Musta’aan, which means that not only He is the Helper (An-Naseer), but He is the only one whose help first and foremost should be sought. He is the One who knows, sees, hears and controls all affairs and therefore His help is perfect at all times.

Al-Musta’aan Himself says: . . .And they brought upon his shirt false blood. [Jacob] said, Rather, your souls have enticed you to something, so patience is most fitting. And Allah is the one sought for help against that which you describe [Quran, 12:18] and . . . [The Prophet] has said, My Lord, judge [between us] in truth. And our Lord is the Most Merciful, the one whose help is sought against that which you describe. [Quran, 21:112].

The meaning of seeking help from Allah

In Islamic context, isti’aanah means to seek help from Allah ‘azza wa jall alone and it is an act of worship. In some circumstances seeking someone’s help other than Allah is considered as shirk and in certain circumstances it is not.

Firstly, in some issues you can only ask Allah and Allah alone and asking others in these circumstances is major shirk. Examples are asking others to seek blessings, provisions, removal of a disease or giving security.

Secondly, there are both worldly and religious matters that can be sought from the creation, however with certain conditions. An example is when you loose something and ask someone to help you look for it. Still you first turn to Allah and then ask the assistance of someone else in that matter.

The one sought for help needs to meet three conditions: they have to be alive, present and capable. We cannot ask the dead for help and we cannot ask those for help who are not present (the prophets could also not hear the calls for help from people who were not within their hearing). And we cannot seek that which others are not capable to give; like asking a shaykh to put you in Paradise, even if he is alive and you are with him. Only Allah ‘azza wa jall is capable of doing so, and asking someone else in this matter would be shirk.

How can you live by this name?

1.Say Allaahul Musta’aan. 

Each prayer you say: You alone do we worship, and You alone do we turn for help [Quran, 1:5] Do you really seek His help?  Allaahul musta’aan is a beautiful statement  you can find twice in the Quran.

In Surah Yuusuf, his sons clearly described something that had not taken place to Yaqoob; no wolf ate Yuusuf, but what could Yaqoob do? All he could do was turn to Allah and he said: Allaahul musta’aanu ‘alaa ma tasifoon – And Allah is the one sought for help against that which you describe. [Quran, 12:18] We can learn to use this dhikr when falsehood is presented as truth which causes you or others difficulty.

In surah Al-‘Anbiyaa the Prophet salallahu ‘alayhi wa sallam used this statement himself when disbelievers were disrespecting Allah: wa Rabbunar-Rahmaanul Musta’aan’alaa maa tasifoon– And our Lord is the Most Merciful, the One Whose help is sought against that which you describe [Quran, 21:112]

2. Seek Al-Musta’aan first and foremost.

Ibn Abbaas radiyallahu ‘anhu said: One day, I was riding behind the Prophet when he said: O boy! I will instruct you in some matters. Protect the commandments of Allah, He will preserve you. Safeguard His Rights, He will be ever with you. If you seek help, seek help from Allah alone; and if you need assistance, supplicate to Allah Alone for help. And remember that if all the people gather to benefit you, they will not be able to benefit you except that which Allah had foreordained (for you); and if all of them gather to do harm to you, they will not be able to afflict you with anything other than that which Allah had pre-destined against you. The pens had been lifted and the ink had dried up. [At-Tirmidhee]

Focus less on people, don’t fear the effect of anyone’s decisions and know that even if people seem to benefit you, the true source is Al-Musta’aan. Even though you are permitted to seek help from others; it is crucial you first call on Al-Musta’aan to provide help and rely on Him alone and not on others. So next time you borrow money of a friend, or even ask a teacher to help you understanding a lesson, first ask Allah to help and guide you and He will provide His help, sometimes by means of other people or even objects or animals (think of the birds who destroyed the army of Abraha described in Surah Al-Feel)!

3.Help one another. 

Al-Musta’aan says: And co-operate all of you together upon piety and righteousness. Help you one another in righteousness and piety; but do not help one another in sin and transgression.  And fear Allaah.  Verily, Allaah is severe in punishment. [Quran, 5:2] Extend help in that which is good and halaal to others and never help others in doing that which Allah ‘azza wa jall forbade. For example helping someone to buy alcohol, commit zinaa, etc.

4. Limit yourself in asking others. 

Allah’s Messenger salallahu ‘alayhi wa sallam said: Who will guarantee me that he will not ask mankind for anything, and I will guarantee for him Paradise (in return)? So Thawban said, “I”, and he added, “And I would never ask anyone for anything.” [Abu Dawood] Even though in cases it is permissible to ask others, limiting yourself in seeking aid from others is a characteristic of the pious and takes courage and strength and truly reliance on Allah; the promise for those people is no less than Paradise. A dhikr you can use in this  context is:

‎فَقُلْ حَسْبِي اللَّهُ لا إِلَهَ إِلاَّ هُوَ عَلَيْهِ تَوَكَّلْتُ وَهُوَ رَبُّ الْعَرْشِ الْعَظِيمِ Say: Allah is sufficient for me. None has the right to be worshiped but He, in Him I put my trust and He is the Lord of the Mighty Throne [Quran, 9:129]. The Prophet salallahu ‘alayhi wa sallam used to say this seven times in the morning and evening. Revive this sunnah and live by it!

Wallahu ta’alaa ‘alem 

O Allah, Al-Musta’aan, we know that You are the only One whose help is sought. Make us of those who truly seek Your help first and foremost, beautify us with the feature of not asking others often and make us of those who help others in that which is good and encouraged by You, ameen!

[n3rdybird]

Blue Blood is No Guarantee

Hey guys, man this idea has been percolating in my mind for like two years.  And I finally got some written.  Hope you enjoy! Please comment, reblog, give kudos! Also if you’d like to be tagged, just let me know in a comment/ask/message! :D

Taglist!

@sofiao12​

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WWE Shield!Bodyguard AU fanfic

Dean Ambrose x FMcMahon!Heiress

Rating: M (for safety)

Warnings: Nothing too graphic, but someone is beaten, predatory behavior towards women, main character has anxiety/panic etc. (But again, nothing too graphic)

The midmorning sun was hiding behind gloomy clouds, which reflected Dean’s mood at having to be awake.  He was definitely more of a night owl and wasn’t excited at the prospect of being up and about before noon.  Mornings were for sleeping in.  But when he got a call from a blast from his past, he was intrigued enough to leave his bed instead of catching a few extra z’s.

 Dean jogged across the street, flinging his hand up when a car honked at him.  When he reached his destination, he felt a wave of nostalgia wash over him.  Police Precinct number 11.  It had been years since he’d been inside, but it looked and felt exactly the same.  Cops chatting over shitty coffee, belligerent yelling coming from the holding cells.

 A voice cut through the din and drew his attention.

 “Ambrose, I didn’t think you got my message,” a large man with tan skin called out, waving him over.  Detective Dave Bautista, while up in years, still looked formidable.  When he raised his hand, his wrinkled button-up looked like it was straining to stay in one piece.

 “Detective, you look like shit,” Dean responded, taking in his disheveled attire and dark circles under his eyes.

 The detective rolled his eyes and muttered a curse under his breath.

 “And here I thought you might have grown up, follow me.”

 Dean gave his old friend a ‘who me?’ look before following the man to his office.

 The office was cluttered, filled with boxes and papers strewn about. Dean peeked into one of the boxes, seeing a framed photo of Bautista accepting a commendation from the police chief and the mayor.

 “Are ya feng shui’ing in here?” Dean asked, using the framed photo to gesture to the half-full boxes.

 “It’s what I called you here for,” Bautista said, shutting the door and closing the blinds.  He walked back over to his desk and pulled a thick folder from his desk.  Dean put the frame back in the box and crossed his arms.  He sauntered over to the desk and stared at the folder on the desk.  The folder looked like it had been through a war, creased and taped to hell and back.

 “Is that what I think it is?”

 The detective sighed and sat in his chair.

 “It is.  Also the reason for the boxes.  I’ve been put on suspension to ‘get with the program and leave ghosts in the past,” he muttered.

 Dean sucked air through his teeth and shook his head.  For as long as he knew him, Detective Dave Bautista had a lifelong mission.  Bring down the McMahon family.  On the surface, the family seemed normal, aside from the millions of dollars in the bank.  The family ran several businesses, did the requisite charities and ribbon-cutting ceremonies.  But there was a dark layer underneath the gilt facade. There were rumors of backroom deals, protection rackets, drug running, fraud, embezzlement, bought cops, the whole nine yards. The family was untouchable though, brushing off the suspicion and accusations like water off a duck.    

 “Damn man, that’s gotta sting.  But why am I here?”

 Bautista leaned forward to flip open the folder and slide it across the desk.  The top paper was a full-page photo of the McMahon family. Patriarch Vince McMahon in the center flanked by his family; Stephanie McMahon-Helmsley, Shane McMahon, and the youngest Elizabeth McMahon.  Elizabeth’s face was circled in red ink.

 “Elizabeth McMahon, the youngest of Vince’s kids.”

 Dean nodded.

 “Yeah, I know.  She’s been in the news a lot this year, for charity events.”

 “She’s become the new face of the McMahon family, fresh out of grad school.  She’s the key Ambrose.  I think I can flip her,” Bautista informed the younger man.  Dean’s eyes widened.

 “That’s ambitious,” the younger man muttered, flipping through the top photos, all of Elizabeth at various events.

 “I was getting so close, and bam! I had upstairs up my ass, telling me to leave it alone.  Before I knew it, I got hit with a suspension.”

 Dean tossed the photo of the pretty brunette back into the pile.

 “Still not hearing why I’m here though.”

 Bautista rifled through his papers, pulling a photo of Elizabeth with a large suited man following at her elbow.  Dean whistled.

 “That is a big man.”

 “This was Elizabeth McMahon’s bodyguard, Paul Wight aka Big Show.”

 “Was?”

 Another photo was tossed across the desk, this time showing an autopsy photo of said man, beaten to a pulp.

 “Jesus, what the hell happened to him?”

 “A week ago, I think Elizabeth tried to make a run for it.  Mr. Wight may have tried to help her.  When she was recovered by some of her father’s men, he said he lost track of her temporarily,” he added when Dean’s eyebrow rose.

 “Something tells me Mr. McMahon wasn’t pleased,” he said, tapping the photo.

 “No, he wasn’t.  Which brings me to you.  I’ve been keeping my ear to the ground, and Elizabeth still hasn’t been assigned a new bodyguard.”

 Dean froze, knowing exactly where he was going.

 “Oh no no no.  I’m out.”

 “Dean, come on.  I’m so close to putting that family away for good.  You’ve got the credentials.  Elizabeth wants out and even though she’s Vince’s daughter, I don’t think he’s gonna let her go.  Not if she talks.”

 The blonde ran his hand through his hair.  He felt guilty. Detective Dave Bautista might have been a hard-ass when he was younger, but he helped Dean, bailed him out too many times to count.  It was thanks to him that Dean was able to be where he was now.  The best friends, no brothers, he could ask for and a career he loved.  He looked around the office, and at the detective at his desk. 

 Bautista looked tired but he still had hope.  Hope that he’d be able to take down the family that caused so much death in his city.  Dean picked up a photo of Elizabeth, she was smiling and talking to a young patient in a hospital.  Her smile was genuine and he felt a pang of guilt when he realized she wouldn’t be able to leave her family without help.  She’d either be beaten down until she has no willpower left, becoming a cog in the bloody McMahon machine, or she would be killed.

 Dean groaned.

 “If I agree to this, what makes you think they’d hire me anyway?”

 Bautista smiled a grin that seemed to take years off the older man’s face.

 “I have a plan.”

 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 A crowd applauded as Elizabeth McMahon presented an oversized check to an after-school program.  She shook hands with some of the kids, giving a few high fives or hugs.  She made her way back to the podium.

 “This is just one of the many charities that my family believes in, and we appreciate all the support you’ve given us.  Together we can help make a difference for our community. Thank you again and please enjoy yourselves,” she concluded to another round of applause.

 The crowd dispersed to mingle and get drinks.  Elizabeth chatted with the charity directors before stepping off the stage.  She made small talk with some of the attendees when a manicured hand gripped her elbow.

 “I’m gonna borrow my sister for a moment, please excuse us,” Stephanie apologized. The group released Elizabeth from their chatter, complementing the older sister on their family’s success and generosity.  Stephanie smiled wide and nodded her thanks before ushering her sister to the side.

 Elizabeth kept up her smile, even though her sister’s nails dug into her skin.  She racked her mind, trying to figure out why Stephanie might be angry with her.  The duo ducked into an unused room.

 The younger sister pulled her arm away, flexing her muscles.

 “Good thing I brought a cardigan.  I’m sure the interview this evening will go well with bruises on my arm,” she snapped, staring at the redness of her skin.

 Stephanie rolled her eyes at her sister’s dramatics.

 “Change of plans, Father dearest wants you to meet him.  I’ll be speaking on your behalf.”

 Elizabeth narrowed her eyes.

 “It’s an interview I’ve been preparing for weeks.  You aren’t even a part of the board for the charity.”

 The elder sister smirked and waved her hand dismissively.

 “Please, as if I couldn’t handle some local news junket. Blah blah blah money for the less fortunate, blah blah we are so blessed to be able to help, blah blah blah, the children are our future.  Finish with a big smile and handshake.  See, not too hard,” she mimed with a schooled professional face.

 “So what does Dad need me for?” Elizabeth sighed, knowing she didn’t have a leg to stand on against her older sister.

 “You need a new bodyguard after the last one ‘left’.”  The smile on Stephanie’s face caused her sister to internally shudder.

 Elizabeth liked her old bodyguard, Paul aka Big Show. He was a gentle giant with her, and his massive size proved to be a formidable deterrent to anyone who would do her wrong.  And her father had him killed for one mistake.  Her mistake.  But this could be her chance.  Stephanie would be busy with the interview, and her husband, Hunter, would stay by her side.  That left her driver, she could persuade him to stop somewhere, and she’d make a break for it.

 “Orton will be escorting you,” her sister said, breaking her reverie.

 “Oh, surely that isn’t necessary.  My driver can take me.  Mr. Orton should be here, keeping an eye on you two.  He is after all assigned to you,” Elizabeth protested.

 “He’s going with you.  No discussion.”  Stephanie raised a brow at her sister’s refusal.  “This defiance lately needs to stop.  Remember, all this-” she said, motioning to the event down the hall, “Is for the family.  Not you.”

 Elizabeth bit her tongue.  It was the truth.  All the charities, all the speeches, all the donations.  It was just a way for her family to mask their crimes.  And she was the smiling face, the front.  And she’d never get out.

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 Elizabeth hated being alone with Randy Orton.  Known as the Viper, he had worked for her family for almost twenty years, longer than most.  Ever since she was a child, the Viper was always around, watching, waiting.  Her older brother had used stories of Orton to frighten her into compliance when she was younger.  They had frightened her and when she grew up, she realized they weren’t exaggerated tales to keep her in bed at night. Randy Orton was a dangerous man, a fact she learned when she saw him standing over one of her father’s business partners, covered in blood.

 It was late, and an 8-year-old Elizabeth McMahon was tired of her father’s party.  They were never fun, just a bunch of her father’s friends.  There were rarely any children her age, and her siblings were much older than her. However, her father instructed the two older McMahon children to keep an eye on their sister, no matter how much they complained. Elizabeth was hovering around her older brother Shane when he grew annoyed at her presence. She didn’t remember what she had done but he told her that Father had gotten her a special present and it was in one of the unused rooms in the basement.  (To keep her from finding it, Shane explained when she looked skeptical.)  After all, the basement was off-limits to Elizabeth, citing it was only for the adults. But Shane cajoled and spun an elaborate tale of the fantastic present waiting for her, that he couldn’t believe his little sister wouldn’t want to go find it.

 Feeling emboldened by the attention she was receiving from her older brother and his friends, she agreed to his plan.  With Shane leading the way, Elizabeth followed. Looking back, she should have noticed the way Shane’s friends were holding in their laughter, but she was so excited at the prospect of a gift and wondering what it could be, she didn’t see the signs until it was too late.

 The dark room was mostly empty, with a few tables and some chairs stacked in the corner.  By the time she had realized there was no present, Shane had shut the door and locked her in.  Far away from the party and anyone that could hear her, Elizabeth was alone and trapped.  She pulled on the doorknob, shaking it relentlessly, banging on the solid door to no avail.  What felt like hours later, but probably only 15 minutes later, she was exhausted from panic.  The child curled up in a pile of unused tablecloths, the musty smell tickling her nose.  She didn’t remember falling asleep, but only waking up when she heard a voice.  Instead of being relieved, she immediately panicked.  Rather than the stern voice of her father, it was the Viper.  She hid under a pile of heavy fabric, rearranging the folds of the fabric to disguise her form.

 The door opened with a bang, and fluorescent light exploded throughout the room.  Through a gap in the fabric, Elizabeth watched as Randy pushed one of her father’s associates into the room.  His hands were bound behind his back, and he already sported a wicked bruise on his face.  The man was pleading, begging the Viper to let him go.  But the man was silent, and just shook his head, leading the man to the chair in the center of the room. 

 With practiced ease, the Viper hooked his leg behind the man’s leg, forcing him to sit in the bolted chair.  He was restrained quickly as he watched the Viper circle him.  If there were questions asked, Elizabeth didn’t remember them. After the first muffled thud of flesh hitting flesh and the grunt of pain that followed, Elizabeth ducked her head, burrowing deeper into the pile of fabric.  Mouth pressed closed, not even wanting to breathe deeply, she could hear each blow as it landed.  The cries of pain reverberated around the empty room, but could not be heard beyond the door.

 Eventually, the screams lessened to subdued gasps and groans.  Elizabeth brought her eyes up and dared to look into the room once more.  The man’s back was to her, but his body was limp, sagging forward.  Randy was in front of him, surveying the damage he did.  His hands were dripping with blood, his crisp white shirt spattered with red.  He paused, as if feeling her eyes on him, and he slowly surveyed the room before coming to a stop on the pile of drop cloths.  Elizabeth let out a raspy breath, which came out like a squeak.  She clamped her hands over her mouth. At that moment, the Viper smiled, his blue eyes like ice as he lifted a bloodstained finger to his lips in a shushing motion.

 “Be quiet Little Mouse.”

 The rest of that night was a blur.  All Elizabeth remembered was one of her father’s men, William Regal, picking her up and carrying her to her room.  His accented voice lulled her to sleep as she refused to let go of his hand.  The next few days drifted in a haze of nightmares, panic attacks, and a battery of medical tests. The aftermath of that night included a prescription for anti-anxiety medicine for Elizabeth and Shane received the harshest tongue-lashing that ever came out of the McMahon family patriarch.  He was kicked out of the main house and demoted in the family business.

 And the Viper?  Well, he was kept out of sight until Elizabeth was old enough to understand the world she lived in.  And now he was sitting less than a foot away.  He wore black button-ups under his crisp suit now.  Less visible bloodstains, she mused internally.  She tapped her nails against her clutch.  Being this close to the Viper made her skin crawl.  Stephanie did this on purpose, she was sure of it.  Punishment for her behavior as of late, or just because she wanted her sister to squirm.

 “Still quiet as ever,” Randy observed, his voice tinted with smugness.

 Elizabeth pointedly looked out the window, ignoring him.

 “Aw Mouse, you don’t want to talk to me?”

 She stiffened at the nickname.

 He reached out and trailed his hand down her bare arm.  Elizabeth darted her eyes to the front of the car.  The driver caught her eye in the window and looked away.  Coward.  She tried to wrench her arm away, but he grabbed her upper arm where Stephanie had earlier, making her hiss.

 He slid across the bench seat, invading her space.  Elizabeth’s heart started to pound.  Too close, too close.  He reached toward her face and she closed her eyes, unwilling to see his cold blue gaze.  One beat, two beats, three.  She opened her eyes at the sound of the door opening.  He had reached across her to open the door.  She hadn’t even realized the car was stopped.  They were at one of her father’s properties in the industrial district.

 Elizabeth steeled herself, she had only been here once before and had no desire to be here again.  Regal waited on the sidewalk for her, guiding her with a hand on her back.  He turned back to Orton, who had a shit-eating grin on his face.

 “Go back to your charges, I’ll take over,” he ordered in a clipped tone.  Regal ushered Elizabeth inside the nondescript warehouse.  As soon as she was away from the gaze of Orton, she sagged against the British man’s side, breathing heavily.

 “Are you alright my dear?”  He saw the beginning of a bruise blooming on her fair skin. Elizabeth took in deep lungfuls of air, trying to calm herself, anchoring her mind to the firm touch of Regal’s hand on her back.  Calming her nerves, she straightened, patting the older man’s arm in reassurance.

 “I’m fine, thank you, William.”

 When he went to retort, she shook her head.

 “I’m fine.  Let’s get this over with.”

 He nodded albeit reluctantly.

 “Of course, this way please.”

 She allowed Regal to guide her through a labyrinth of pallets, all filled to the brim with ill-gotten goods.  She heard shouting jeers and the sounds of fighting she paused to steady herself.

 “Deep breaths,” William murmured against her hair and she nodded.  The door ahead of them was flanked by two guards, who opened the door for the pair.

 Her father, the patriarch of the McMahon crime family, stood next to a railing.  Vince McMahon, millionaire, businessman, philanthropist, and criminal.  Although up in years, he still had a commanding aura.  Whatever Vince says, goes.  No discussions.  No mistakes.  No forgiveness. 

 Down below, men were bare-knuckle fighting.  Elizabeth stood to the side as Regal announced her arrival to her father.  She glanced down at the fighters and immediately wished she hadn’t.  Several men were off to the side, having lost their respective fights.  Most if not all sustained several wounds, black eyes, gashes to the forehead, broken noses. Some looked scarcely older than eighteen, throwing themselves in the meat grinder for her ‘family’.  Others were older, gruff, the weight of the world showing on the lines of their faces.

 William motioned for Elizabeth to join him and her father at the railing.

 “How did the event go?” her father asked, not taking his eyes off the fights below.

 “The charity event went well, though I wish I could have stayed to do the interview,” Elizabeth said, keeping her tone even.  It would do no good to start a fight with her father.

 Vince barely registered what his daughter said, waving it off like a piece of lint on his expensive suits.

 “Stephanie can handle it.  I wanted you here,” he said.  The current fight ended, yells and jeers reverberating through the metal warehouse.  Though all Elizabeth could hear was the dull thud as one of the fighters hit the ground.  She swallowed the revulsion, schooling her face into one of cool indifference.

 “In order for you to understand the severity of your previous bodyguard’s mistake, I invited you here.”

 He gestured for his daughter to join him at the railing, as the next fight took place.  Elizabeth chanced a look at Regal, who nodded.  She made her way to the railing, standing next to her father.

 “I will do anything to protect this family, my legacy,” he started.  Elizabeth nodded along with his words.

 “When Mr. Wight grew lax in his responsibilities, he became a liability to you, to this family, and to me.”

 Elizabeth almost jumped when her father’s hand dropped on top of hers.  It was rare for the McMahon patriarch to show any sort of affection, especially when not in front of the cameras.

 “I don’t like liabilities Elizabeth,” he said, turning his gaze from the men downstairs to her eyes.  “Liabilities cause chaos.”

 The youngest McMahon could only nod, as his hand tightened on hers, facing the carnage below.

[purplesurveys]

1198

Have you ever bought a YouTuber’s merch?  No. Most of the merch that had been put out when I was still into YouTubers were always underwhelming and overpriced, anyway.

Do you think oatmeal tastes better when made with water or milk?  Eugh, I don’t like oatmeal. Ate it everyday for breakfast as a kid and I just want nothing to do with anymore.

Have you ever left a note in a library book?  No. I’m pretty sure that counted as vandalism or at least under some kind of violation, so I never did anything to my borrowed books beyond reading them.

What time of day do you prefer to wash your hair?  There’s no time of day for me; I just wash it whenever I feel like showering.

Has anyone ever spread lies about you?  Just a couple times when I was in like middle school but it was all very superficial stuff that I never think about.

Have you ever taken a photograph with a celebrity? If so, did it turn out the way you wanted, or do you wish you could retake it?  Nah. I freak out about the idea of meeting celebrities and always turn down or pass up any opportunity I get lmao. I don’t handle nervousness well so I don’t trust myself to be able to behave or speak properly.

If you could move out of your home country permanently, would you? If so, where would you go?  Yeah, anything to get out of this shithole. I’d love to move to Canada.

Is there a celebrity that everyone else seems to love, but you find totally overrated? Why is it that you don’t like them?  Taylor Swift. Her music’s just never fallen under my personal preferences, but I don’t actively hate on her or bash her when there’s been no reason to.

If you could volunteer for any charity, which one would you choose? Do you think it’s more important to help humans, or are animal and environmental charities equally important?  I don’t think acts of charity should be compared. Personally though, I tend to lean towards causes for animals.

Do you prefer holidays where you relax, or actually do things? My family alwaysssssss makes sure our itineraries are absolutely packed when we go on vacations. Seems like a waste of money to travel to a new place just to stay holed up in our hotel room.

Do you think that after we die our spirit is still alive?  No, I don’t believe in those to begin with.

Has anybody ever told you that you could be a model? Yeah, usually because of my build. I hate posing and being in front of a camera, though.

Do you use different kinds of moisturizer for different body parts? ie. hand lotion for your hands, face cream for your face. Or do you just use one moisturizer for all body parts?  I don’t use skincare products, though I should probably start because my skin is finally biting me in the ass and giving me breakouts 23 years later lol.

Have you ever felt like you were someone’s rebound? Nope.

Has anybody ever broken up with you over something really pathetic? What was it? Have you ever been dumped in a disrespectful way? (eg. through text, through a friend..)  I wouldn’t say it was over something pathetic. She had her reasons and I respect that. Doesn’t mean I can’t resent her.

Did you have a lot of role models as a kid?  Not really.

Do you feel like anyone looks up to you? Why or why not? I don’t know, but this isn’t a compliment I get a lot either. I don’t actively try to be a role model, so I don’t care about maintaining such an image.

What was the last thing you found offensive? My mom often throws around subtle homophobic remarks in passing. She knows I hate them because I shoot her a glare every time she does it, but for some reason she never learns...

Who is the nicest person you know?  Angela.

Do you feel safe in your country?  In a country where the president is a blatant liar, misogynist, has anger and cursing issues, and enables extrajudicial killings? Safety is a dream here.

Do you feel safe where you live?  Very technically speaking, yeah I do since it’s a gated village so nothing ever happens here.

Have you been falsely diagnosed with something by a bad doctor?  Not necessarily misdiagnosed, but I’m pretty sure I was prescribed the wrong set of medicines for my UTI last year...nothing came out of taking those pills and I felt just as sick (and dead) as I was after a couple of days. The only reason I got better was Angels’s mom is a doctor and gave me the right meds to take, which worked on me within a couple of hours.

Have you ever had a doctor refuse to treat you?  No.

Name the strangest game you’ve ever played (video game or real game): WarioWare is suuuuuuuch a weird game haha. Doesn’t stop me from enjoying it, though.

Do you know anyone who has been struck by lightning before?  Not that I know of.

Which cartoon character would you want to keep as a pet? Gary from Spongebob.

Do you like marshmallows?  Haaaaaaaate them. I never got used to its weird, sticky texture so I always take them out when they’re included in like drinks and desserts.

What is your favorite flavor of candy cane?  I don’t consume candy canes much. Too sweet.

Have you ever fostered an animal?  Nope.

Do you still take hot showers when it’s hot out?  No, I want the water to be as cold as possible.

When writing $ sign, do you draw one line through the S or two?  I do two, though I rarely have any reason to write down the dollar sign in general.

What animal have you always wanted as a pet but couldn’t have?  We weren’t allowed to have dogs as kids because we “wouldn’t be able to take care of them” – which they were right about, anyway. But we have two now, so it all worked out in the end.

List three people you’ve had crushes on:  Gabie, Andi...and that’s it, really.

Have you ever thrown up from cramps?  No. Fortunately my period cramps have never been that bad, and the only time they can be a headache is if they’re the leg crampjp that sends me waking up in the middle of the night.

List three people you had a hard time forgiving.  I don’t really forgive. If someone fucks up badly enough that I feel the need to cut them off, that’s pretty much it for me.

Who is the most spiritual person you know?  I don’t know.

Would you ever start a vlog?  Sure. I’ve always wanted to try it, but I don’t have a decent vlogging camera and am not invested enough in the venture to spend on one. In general I’m also not comfortable being in front of the camera, as I’ve already shared several times here. Vlogging does look fun though, and I definitely would’ve already given it a shot if only I felt more comfortable.

Are your dreams coming true yet?  Some of the short-term ones, sure.

Do you struggle with depression?  I go through phases of it, but I’ve never been formally diagnosed just because I’ve never booked a trip to the psychiatrist.

Are you haunted by your past?  No

What medical conditions do you have?  Do scoliosis and lactose intolerance count? Those are the main issues I have.

Do you use a Magic Bullet?  Why did I think this was a vibrator...? Anyway, I looked it up and no, I’ve never used one.

What does your apron look like?  I’ve never had to use one regularly.

What are your favorite spicy foods?  Curry, tteokbokki, ramen, samgyeopsal with ssamjang, spicy fried chicken.

Which do you like better: being an adult or being a kid?  Being an adult has a lot more freedom to it even though I have to go through heavier and deeper shit, so it’s still more worth it to me.

Were you excited to be a teenager on your thirteenth birthday?  I was heavily depressed back then, and was for a while, so I didn’t have any feelings about turning 13. I don’t even remember my birthdays up until the 15th.

Did you feel insecure in high school?  In the first half, yeah. But I started opening up more and gaining friends by junior year, so at that point I wasn’t feeling too shy anymore.

Would you ever be friends with someone who was suicidal?  I hate this question that I am simply ignoring it.

Who was the biggest bully in high school?  My school didn’t tolerate bullies so no one ever dared to be one, in the grand scheme of things. But back in kindergarten Kaira used to love targeting me - she was my big bully before she became my friend, lol.

What was your favorite class in high school? History, of course. I personally didn’t like literature but I enjoyed English classes, just because it was easy and was a guaranteed A+ in my report card.

Would you rather have a daughter or a son?  Daughter. 

Have you ever written to an advice columnist? Nope.

Have you ever had a doctor not believe what you told him?  Not really, but I’ve had a doctor be a total asshole towards me before.

If you’re female, would you feel uncomfortable having a male gynecologist?  No.

Do you like Lisa Frank?  No.

What gives you nightmares?  I don’t really get nightmares.

Were you ever hospitalized as a child?  Nope. I was hospitalized one time, and I had been 11 then.

Did you get senior pictures taken?  Yeah, for both high school and college.

What color is your bicycle? The family bike is blue and silver. Not that I could ride it, lol.

Did you ever have to take home a fake baby in health class?  No...is that a practice in other schools? That’s so weird if it was.

Would you rather wear ivory or white on your wedding day? What color will your bridesmaids wear?  White. Ivory can be for the bridesmaids, actually.

Would you rather have a swimming pool or trampoline?  Swimming pool. Trampolines are neat, but I would get bored of them so quickly.

Do you think babies are cute? For the most part yes, the only exception being if I have to be exposed with a baby/toddler that is prone to screech-crying. My patience is an extremely thin line when it comes to children like that lol and I FEEL BAD for feeling like so... but I just can’t deal with harsh sounds like that one.

Do you dream about the future a lot?  I guess I daydream sometimes but it’s nothing obsessive.

Do you think about your past a lot?  I’ll daydream or feel resentful sometimes, depending on what or who I’m thinking about lol. But I don’t stay in the past for too long.

How good are you at living in the moment?  I’m a lot better at it. It’s nice to be in the now.

Have you ever questioned God’s existence?  I did starting when I was 10, and I also disowned my religion by that time.

Vanilla frosting or chocolate? Chocolate foreverrrrr.

What’s your favorite foreign cuisine?  It’s always a three-way tie among Indian, Malaysian, and Thai.

Have you ever moved to another state?  No. We don’t even live in states.

Did you do anything productive today?  Well I had work today, so yeah I’d say I was. I had two meetings and worked on a bunch of spreadsheets and decks, so it was a pretty productive day.

Can you say the alphabet backwards?  Nope.

Do you like flowers?  Sure, but I’m not obsessed. It always feels nice to receive them, though.

Have you ever thought you were gonna die?  Every single time I get catcalled by men I always have the fear that they’d go all the way and drag me away to my death. That’s why I’m usually in shock whenever it happens and I’m never able to retort.

What kind of mood are you in today?  Super relieved because it’s Friday. A bit guilty because I had Starbucks delivered when I had already spent a lot this week, but I keep telling myself I deserve it after working all week haha. I just wanna enjoy my coffee and salmon dill sandwich in peace lmaooooo

What are you craving right now?  This salmon sandwich I ordered, so I’m hella glad I got it.

Is there anyone you would seriously punch right now if you had the chance?  Maybe shove, but not punch.

What is worse, physical or emotional pain?  Physical. My pain tolerance is extremely low, lol.

Have you ever walked in on somebody doing something… questionable? I don’t think I have.

If you were to make videos on YouTube, what would they be of?  I think just doing the trendy games like the Lie Detector game would be fun haha. I wouldn’t take it too seriously.

Posting pictures of yourself in a bathing suit on the internet - ok or not? ...It’s 2021.

Do you typically laugh when somebody falls down?  If it’s a close friend or a relative I’m close with, yeah. Anyone else I would immediately try to help.

What is the most disturbing movie you’ve ever watched?  Eraserhead or Under the Skin, which I didn’t even bother finishing.

Your opinion of Katy Perry, please?  I like her older songs.

If you could say anything to your Mom right now… what would it be?  Stop acting like a brat when you don’t get your way. You’re literally reaching 50.