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superhaught · 8 months ago

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To Be Another Notch... (Chapter Two)

Pairing: Leighton Murray x Reader

Warnings: sick reader, reference to the chapter 1 smut

Word Count: 1100, Part 2/?

Part 1

Just a little follow up to "To Be Another Notch in Your Bedpost." Might keep it going, might not. I don't really have any specific ideas for where this one could go, though!

Also, Anonymous Asked: All I can think about now is like what if Leighton x reader are snowed in at Essex and the reader is deliriously ill and Leighton goes into protector mode and her roommates don’t know how to react since they’ve never seen this side of her with anyone before

I don't know if I did a super excellent job addressing this ask but I hope y'all like it! I'm in a bit of a writer's block rn so I'm doing me best. <3

Reader wakes up very sick and Leighton takes care of her. (Reader is explicitly she/her in this one).

You had slept over with Leighton after your night together. You awoke, bundled warmly in her deluxe comforter.

Well, technically, you didn’t wake up of your own accord. Leighton jostled you in an attempt to wake you and it wasn’t until she had to begin shouting your name that you actually came to. And furthermore, you weren’t exactly comfortably warm. You felt freezing cold but your skin was covered in sweat and you were approaching a fever of 102 degrees Fahrenheit.

To make matters even worse, Essex had been the victim of a massive snowstorm overnight. Leighton had only been trying to gently wake you to let you know that classes had been canceled and you were welcome to stay, but then she felt how your skin was burning.

You opened your eyes blearily and were met with Leighton’s panicked expression and the back of her hand pressed against your forehead.

“Oh my god, you’re burning up.”

“What? Like the Jonas Brothers?”

“Jesus Christ, no! Not like the Jonas Brothers! You have a fever.”

“Ohhh… that makes more sense.” You coughed painfully and Leighton quickly handed you a bottle of water from her mini fridge.

“I will be right back, Stay. Here.” Leighton ordered before rushing out of the room.

You let your head collapse into the pillow and you were asleep again before you even knew it. An unknown amount of time later, Leighton came back into the room wearing a N95 mask, which she removed once the door was closed. Her arms were full of cold and flu supplies that she certainly could not have gone out and purchased due to the storm.

Leighton sat everything down next to the bed and started going through the pile, setting a fresh box of tissues with lotion next to you along with a bottle of electrolyte drink. Then, she sifted through the variety of medications and ultimately decided that just some straight up tylenol and cough medicine would be best.

Leighton was waking you up again and she helped you sit up while you took the medicines and drank a bunch of the electrolyte solution.

“Kimberly’s mom sent her all of this medicine and first aid stuff, it was honestly really impressive. My mom just sent me a Louis Vuitton weekender bag.”

You chuckled lightly, even though it hurt a little to do so, then spoke in a scratchy voice, “both things have their uses.”

Leighton felt your forehead again and then made you lie back down, “I’m quarantining you in here for now, at least until the storm clears. I’ll take care of you here.”

“You’re gonna get sick…” you pointed out.

“Then, you’ll take care of me.”

You furrowed your brows, “well, of course I will, but are you sure? I can just go home,” you made an attempt to sit up but Leighton pushed you right back down.

“Absolutely not. You’re in no state to walk across campus even if it wasn’t a blizzard outside. You’re staying here. End of discussion.”

“But I don’t-”

“Shut up, would you? You’re making me tired just looking at you,” she teased.

Leighton surprised you, then. She was no longer feeling the fever on your forehead for sheer monitoring purposes, but just softly caressing her thumb over your skin and wiping your sweaty hair aside as she did so. It was comforting.

You smiled, “you’re really sweet, thank you.”

Leighton leaned down and kissed your forehead gently and stayed by your side until you were too tired to keep your eyes open any longer and you fell asleep again.

Leighton put her mask back on to protect her roommates from your germs as best as she could then went out into the main area of the suite to let you sleep in peace.

Leighton sat down on the plaid couch in their common room and exhaled a deep breath. She had never really seen herself as a caretaker type, but for some reason, it had come naturally to her when she saw how sick you were.

Bela decided to go hang out in Jocelyn’s room to gossip the snow day away (with the help of cinnamon whiskey and apple cider… but mostly cinnamon whiskey), while Kimberly and Whitney hunkered down in their room.

Leighton scrolled mindlessly through her phone when Whitney came out to grab some food from the shared fridge.

“How’s your guest doing?” Whitney asked.

“Okay, I think.” Leighton answered simply.

“Is this someone we’ve met before?”

“No,” Leighton said, “she’s new as of last night…”

“Wow. You must be really into her, then.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Well, you let her sleep over and now you’re taking care of her while she’s sick? The Leighton Murray of a few weeks ago would never, storm or no storm…” Whitney smiled at the blonde and sat down on the couch opposite her.

Leighton’s cheeks flushed, “I don’t know… she’s cute. Really cute. And being around her has been really easy so far. Plus…”

Whitney raised an eyebrow, “plus…?”

Leighton rolled her eyes and then lowered her voice to a near-whisper, “Plus… she made me come like four times last night… maybe more. I honestly lost count.”

“Oh. My. God.”

“I know.”

“That’s just not fair.”

Leighton smirked and shrugged.

“So you’re taking care of her because the sex was amazing?” Whitney clarified.

“No, not just that. Maybe I do really like her. But like…” Leighton groaned, “I’m so fucking stressed about Tatum and Alicia still… Do I really want to jump right into another relationship?”

Now, Whitney shrugged, “do what makes your heart happy, Leight. If you like her, I say go for it. You never know when someone might be your person.”

Leighton looked over her shoulder at her bedroom door, “huh… yeah, maybe you’re right. I’m gonna go check on her.”

Leighton stood up and Whitney smiled, “I also think you should do whatever you can to bring this nurturing side of you out more often. It’s nice.”

Leighton flashed a glare in Whitney’s direction, “yeah yeah, whatever.”

The blonde slipped back into her room and took a moment to watch you before she climbed into the bed beside you and draped her arm over you.

You were fast asleep and didn’t feel her join you in the bed, but you unconsciously shifted and hugged her arms close to you.

Snow continued to drench the campus and it seemed to muffle all sound.

Leighton fell asleep holding you, lulled only by the steady rise and fall of your breathing.

#leighton murray #leighton x reader #leighton murray x reader #tslocg #the sex lives of college girls #fanfiction #my fanfiction #my writing #original writing #anonymous request #renee rapp

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sencubussubs · 10 months ago

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Robotic Affirming

Hi lovelies!

Let’s talk Robotic Affirming! Robotic affirming is a manifestation method that works using repetition to replace assumptions and beliefs:

Key principles: (to any method / during manifestation)

- Repetition

- Saturation

- Persistence

- Discipline

Understanding Robotic Affirming:

Robotic affirming works by mindlessly affirming all throughout the day. You do not need to feel it real or visualise, you are simply repeating a (preferably short) affirmation over and over to saturate your mind and replace previous dominant thoughts / assumptions you held.

Saturating your mind is how you create new beliefs. Whether you work with affirmations or states, you saturate your mind with the decision you are making to change.

Ways to robotically affirm:

1. Mindlessly affirming for set periods of time or at any moment that you do not need to be focusing on something (like work or school). Mindless / robotic just means you are repeating the affirmation without thinking about it or needing to feel emotion

2. 10 minute method/ Power affirming: set a timer for ten minutes in which you only repeat your affirmation(s) (1-2). Do not focus on anything else, just your affirmations.

3. SATS affirming: if you struggle with visualisation you can also robotically affirm yourself to sleep :) just repeat the affirmations over and over, don’t think too hard about it. I like to count and affirm “1 I am *affirmation*. 2. I am *affirmation*. 3. i am *affirmation*” and so on.

When working with robotic affirmations it is best to work with 1-2 max 3 affirmations at a time, as it is just easier to remember and repeat less affirmations. Over time (not a long time) you will find yourself automatically start to affirm when you are not doing anything/ randomly thinking of your affirmations! it makes affirming feel far more normal.

Tip: if you get distracted easily, or to make it fun, use a counter app and see how many times you can affirm in the 10 minutes (or longer!).

Persistence as with any manifestation is key. If you have thoughts that pop up that don’t align with your affirmations, do not just allow them to sit and complain in your head. Those thoughts are irrelevant to who you now are deciding to be. It takes discipline to create new assumptions - but not a long time (unless you continuously assume it does). If an unfavourable thought pops up, take a deep breath and remember, this does not align with you anymore. it is irrelevant.

E.G.

my affirmation is: I have 5 thousand dollars in my bank account.

thought pops up: Man I am so broke.

Response: No, actually i know that i have five thousand dollars in my bank account so that thought is so irrelevant to me. *let the thought through and then move on! Do not let negative thoughts stress you out. you are doing everything right!*

Finding your strengths

not everyone will enjoy robotic affirming, they may find it tiring to affirm all the time and that’s fine. For me it is a simple and healthy habit that keeps my mind busy on positive saturation in time periods where typically negative thoughts may pop up!

For some visualisation and states may be tiring! So maybe this will suit you :)

Remember that it is not your affirmations that manifest, it is you. You are using the affirmations to change your subconscious beliefs - even if you don’t believe the affirmations, the repetition and saturation will train your mind - unless you spend all the time counter-affirming about “oh it is not working”, it is literally only not working because you are deciding it isn’t….

Also i really do not care if another content creator states “erm robotic affirming doesn’t work”, it may not have ‘worked’ for them but it has worked time and time again for others! As always, do not let one’s experience dictate what can and cannot work for you.

Here are some content creators I like that use and talk about robotic affirming :

- Sammy Ingram

- Your Thoughts Create

- Rita kaminski

- Manifesting with kimberly

- Alex Khan

you can find all of them on youtube :) Remember not to over-consume! It will not help you.

As a final note i want to remind you that manifestation is not a process it is a decision. You are not affirming to get something, you are affirming as a reminder to yourself of what is already yours. As you saturate your mind with this it becomes an undeniable fact to your mind and as such the 3D will reflect it.

Have anymore questions about robotic affirming or anything else law of assumption? Feel free to send a dm or an ask, my messages are always open <3

Love,

Saph

#law of assumption #manifestation #manifesting #loassblog #loassumption #sencubus #loa #conscious manifesting #manifestation technique #manifestation techniques #robotic affirmations #robotic affirming #affirmations #loass affirmations #law of assumption affirmations #law of assumption techniques #law of assumption method #law of assumption tumblr #law of assumption blog

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aperrywilliams · 2 years ago

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They Will Never (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

(Not my gif. Credits to the creator!)

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Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: Spencer's girlfriend is jealous. During the Christmas party at their daughter's school, the other moms don’t stop hitting on him.

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: 18+; Minor DNI. Suggestive and dirty talk. Smut (fade to black) at the end of the fic. If I forgot something, let me know.

A/N: I’m back!!!! This past months have been a rollercoaster in many ways. Well, talking about this fic, it could be a sequel from "That Wicked Love" multipart I wrote a while ago. Nonetheless, it could be read as a stand-alone.

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I never thought it would be easy. When I discovered that I was pregnant and Spencer wasn't going to support me, I was sure the world had ended.

There were weeks of thinking over and over again about what I would do with my life. Then I decided I would have Olivia, and that's it.

I don't regret my decision. Liv is my little girl, and I love her with all my heart, but motherhood is hard.

Since Olivia was born, my life has mostly revolved around her. Being a mother is a full-time job. But I have been managing the best I could. I continued working after she was born, and with time, some of my personal life returned too.

However, the stability of our little family was broken when a bloody bastard kidnapped my little girl two years ago. She was four back then.

That wasn't enough, though.

What were the chances of Spencer working on my daughter's kidnapping case?

I forgot to mention that I never told him I would continue my pregnancy, so it was a surprise for him to see me and know that he had indeed been a father.

Fortunately, Spencer’s team recovered Olivia and three more kids kidnapped by the same guy.

What followed was a rollercoaster of events and emotions. Spencer wanted to be in Liv’s life, and although I swore never to talk to him again, I couldn't deny my daughter of her father.

He showed regret and swore that leaving me alone while pregnant was the worst thing he had done in his life. He looked genuinely sorry, and he wanted to make it up to Olivia.

Against the odds, I let him.

He became the best dad for my girl. Since then, he has been for her at every step.

The problem? Having him close awoke those feelings I thought were buried the day he left.

I tried to ignore it. I really tried. Even if he never did something to make me uncomfortable in our co-parenting roles, I did feel off with it.

I still loved him. And months after, Spencer confessed that he still loved me too.

Would it be a bad idea? Maybe. But I left my heart to speak louder than my brain. That's why we have been dating for the past three months.

So you can guess how odd it is having your daughter’s dad as a boyfriend. Some people think we are married or living together when we are not. Others believe we are just co-parenting and don’t have a relationship.

Usually, I don't care what people think. But right now I wish things between us were clearer to the world, specifically for the moms who had Spencer cornered in the venue of this year’s school Christmas party.

Am I jealous? Yeah. But how could I not be? Spencer is the epitome of the young-hot dad, caring and lovely. And polite. Very very polite. So much so that even if he had noticed their advances, he hadn’t said anything. Maybe he likes that.

This has me overthinking, and I wouldn't say I like it because it brings all kinds of insecurity thoughts to my mind.

Right now, for example, instead of going to interrupt this obscene flirtation, I'm walking to the opposite side to check if Olivia needs anything. I can't bring myself to do something different.

It didn't help to hear part of their conversation when I was passing by a while ago.

“Your wife is a lucky girl, then,” Kimberly chimed, patting Spencer’s forearm.

“My what?” the man asked, confused.

“Your wife? Olivia's mom?” Kim explains, tilting her head. Then Spencer realizes she’s talking about me.

“Oh! No, actually, we are not married,” he corrected. God, Kimberly’s eyes go wide as if she found a gold mine. The rest of the moms there reacted in the same way.

I have nothing against that fact, but with them knowing it? It's like a door was opened. A door to the shameless coquetry, and I hate it.

I knew Spencer wouldn’t be consciously flirting with them, but seeing him laugh at their jokes and don’t even flinch when one of them gripped his forearm not only made me see red.

It was even worst: it made me self-conscious.

I know it's an irrational feeling. Of course I know there are people better than me in many things. I wouldn't pretend to be a superwoman or something close to that. But since Olivia started preschool, I have been feeling less than the other moms. At first, it was because I was raising her alone and working simultaneously. I couldn't make it to every school event or whatever they planned during the year. Now, also, there is the fact that it’s Spencer who can fulfill that role, and I still can’t. He is the cool dad with a cool job. And there are cool moms with cool jobs too, who he’s talking to at this precise moment.

Doing the math, it doesn't look like I could be up to that kind of expectation.

For the rest of the evening, I avoided being close to Spencer and the other moms. Instead, I focused on the kids and that Olivia could have fun at the party. After all, it was the primary purpose of this activity.

The ride home was mostly silent. I tried to concentrate on driving and not look at Spencer from the corner of my eye. Liv was fast asleep in the back seat.

The streets were filled with snow, and you could see the Christmas lights on the windows of each building we passed. The ambient was clearly festive, but I didn't feel or look that way.

Maybe Spencer felt something was off, but I guess he didn't want to bring it up in the car. He only made some random comments about the party, and for all of them, he got from me a curt hum in response.

When I parked, he took hold of a sleepy Olivia in his arms and helped me upstairs.

It was a well-known routine since we told Liv that Spencer was her dad, and she warmed up to him. Every time we got to my apartment after an afternoon together, he carried our daughter to her room and got her ready for bed. The little girl would open her eyes and demand a bed story from her dad.

Spencer loves reading to her, even if he knows most of the stories by heart. That's one of the many things they share as father and daughter, and I try to give them the space to do that. That's why this time, like others, I headed to the kitchen to make myself some tea.

With a mug in hand, and after switching on the Christmas tree lights, I plopped on the couch. I didn't notice before how much my feet hurt. What can I say? The afternoon’s overthinking even dimmed my body aching.

Great, now I can add ‘old and wasted’ to my self-deprecation list.

I let my eyes be entertained by the colored lights, wondering if I was being overdramatic. My thoughts were interrupted by Spencer sitting beside me.

“I couldn't finish the story, and she had already fallen asleep,” he announced, lifting my legs so they could rest on his lap. Thoughtlessly, he started rubbing my feet.

Silence took over the room. I tried to concentrate on the pleasant feeling of his hands on my aching feet, but my face sure didn't hide my sour mood.

“What's wrong?” Spencer asked cautiously, inspecting my features. I tried to play ignorant.

“Uh? What do you mean?” I lied. Spencer frowned.

“You are too quiet. You didn't say anything during the car ride, and I could tell you avoided me most of this afternoon,” he recounted.

Shit. Obviously, he noticed.

“I’m just tired,” I lied again. I didn't want to explain what was bothering me. It was silly, and I felt stupid for it. He was about to say something to question my answer, but I didn't let him.

“Maybe you should go home. I think it's better I go to bed,” I pointed, detaching my feet off his lap and sitting straight on the couch. By all means, I avoided making eye contact because I knew he would realize what I was trying to do.

During the past months, he had spent the night at mine before, but it wasn’t a habitual thing. We decided to take it slow, and neither he nor I had put pressure on that matter.

Spencer’s frown deepened, nonetheless.

“Okay. I’ll go,” he announced. “But first you need to tell me what is bothering you. I don’t bite the ‘tired’ thing,” he declared, shifting his posture on the couch to have a better look of me.

“Nothing is wrong,” I repeated, but my voice sounded even less convincing than before. The man hummed, thinking about what to say first.

“Did you know that in the US the 95% of people who are asked for a confirmation to a statement actually lie about it?” He commented. I huffed, already feeling trapped.

“Great. Now is where your 187 is displayed,” I said under my breath. It was a thought that wasn’t meant to be said at loud. But it slipped.

Spencer tilted his head.

“Hey! Now I’m worried. What happened? What did I do?” he asked in a high pitch tone, scooting to my side. I shook my head, sighing.

Maybe it was better to get clean and tell him everything.

“You - you didn't do anything. I mean, yeah. You were there, all cute and sexy. It's your fault! And they? They were all over you, gawking at you as someone looks at their prey!” I grumbled.

“They?” Spencer asked in confusion.

“The other moms, Spencer! Now you will tell me you didn't notice?” I scoffed, folding my arms over my chest and placing some distance between us on the couch.

“You mean at the party? No way. That not happened,” he refuted, shooking his head.

The bastard was denying the most obvious thing! That made anger fill my body, and I had to stand and start pacing. It was that or scream at the man.

At the loss of words, Spencer stood too, following my pace with his gaze.

I knew he could see the fuming escaping from my ears, but I didn't care.

He wanted to say something, but he didn't know how to start. I bet my pacing in the room wasn’t helping him.

“(Y/N)...” he mumbled softly to catch my attention. I turned to see him. His confused look only fueled my irritation.

“Fuck, Spencer! How can you be so clueless? They were hitting on you! God, if it were up to them, you'd already be tied to their bed frame,” I shouted, hands waving in the air to accentuate my point.

Spencer’s eyes widened.

“What? That's not true. They were being nice. That's all,” Spencer defended. Sure, he has to be oblivious right now. I would have punched him to make him realize the truth.

“Nice, uh? I didn't know nice meant touching the guy in front of the whole people every chance they got. Or are you going to deny they did that, uh, genius?” I sneered now with my hands on my hips. My blood was boiling inside as I remembered the scene.

Spencer cleared his throat. He was recalling those details, and they were hitting him now. Cautiously he took a step forward, hands trying to reach mine.

“Hey, don’t get upset. I - I didn't see that. I’m sorry,” he said, stepping in front of me and prying my arms from their position on my hips. His fingers traced delicate patterns on the back of my palms.

“I should have seen it. I didn't think it was something like that. You know I’m pretty stupid in that kind of thing. I’m really sorry,” he apologized.

I really wanted to stay angry, but seeing those puppy dog eyes, looking intently at me made it difficult.

Argh! Why just one look from him it's all that it takes to feel my knees go weak?

“Don't look at me like that!” I protested.

“Like what?” He asked, kind of amused by the reaction he provoked in me.

“Like you were an innocent pigeon. All men are the same, honestly,” I complained, leaving the grasp of his hands. A new rush of anger came quickly. Spencer pursed his lips; he could tell the reason why I was upset wasn’t just the moms flirting with him.

Before I could turn and walk away, Spencer stopped me grabbing my hand and squeezing it gently so I could look at him.

“Please, don’t go. I’m sorry I didn't notice. But you know why I didn't? Because they are not you,” he declared, intertwining our fingers and grasping our hands with his free one. I looked at him, with some treacherous tears fighting to come out.

He continued.

“They are not you. You are the only one that can get my attention that way,” he declared, bringing my hand to his lips to kiss my knuckles.

“I’m not that special, you know?” I mumbled, pursing my lips to stop the tears.

There it was. The intrusive thought in my mind replayed over and over since it hit me this afternoon.

Spencer narrowed his eyes, realizing there was more than jealousy because of him.

“Don’t say that. Of course you are that special, and much more!” He rebutted, and I chuckled bitterly.

“Am I? I mean, why would you be happy with me when you can get a successful well-manicured super mom like them?” I pointed.

“What are you talking about? What is that thing about super moms?” he asked, now taking hold of both my hands.

I sighed. It was something that was hard to explain, even to me. I left the grasp of his hands, running mine through my hair, collecting my thoughts.

“Look. I don't expect you can fully understand it. Honestly, I think I can’t understand it either. It's just - I don’t know. Sometimes I think I’m not doing enough. I’m not a successful businesswoman with a six-year-old daughter, a nice car, all dolled up, perfect makeup, and baking cupcakes for the whole school, like Kimberly, you know?” I shrugged, feeling small and vulnerable.

Of all that people, I chose to compare myself with Kimberly Garland. The incarnation of a super mom. She was known as a successful CEO at a technological company. Mom of three and recently divorced. She always shows up to school activities, no matter what. And not only that, she actively participates, whether cooking, taking care of the ornaments and decorations, or whatever it needed.

How could you compete to that?

“And do you think that no being like her is a bad thing?” Spencer asked me.

Did I believe that? Perhaps I did.

“Maybe it is. Don’t you think Liv deserves a mom like that? Or you a girlfriend like that? I saw you talking to her today, and I couldn't stop thinking she could offer more than I could.”

It hurt to say those words out loud, but they were the ones plaguing my thoughts at the time.

Spencer's face softened. Great, now I'm sure he felt pity for me.

“She can’t. Kimberly or whoever you’re comparing to. You're an excellent mom, (Y/N). And the best girlfriend I can ask for," Spencer stated now strocking my cheek.

I felt silly making a fuss but the insecurities were there. I couldn't help it. The embarrasment made me downcast my gaze to the floor.

“My sweet girl. Look at me, please," he asked, tilting my chin up. I did so, my cheeks turning red under his gaze.

“Olivia is a lucky little girl, you know? She has the best mom in the world. A mom who loves her and would do whatever it takes so she can be happy and safe. Who cares if you can’t be in all those school activities? Not her, because she knows you love her. It doesn't matter if you are not a company CEO. You have your job, and thanks to that our daughter has had everything she needs. You took care of her alone in her first years. On top of that, you have always sought her well-being and happiness. You let me be in her life even after I hurt you years ago. I will always be grateful that you did,” he said, pulling a strand of hair behind my ear.

“She deserves having her father around,” I pointed. It was a decision that I made when we spoke again after Olivia’s kidnapping. Although my hurt feelings, I couldn't deny my daughter of her father if he genuinely wanted to be in her life. Our problems as adults didn't have to be a problem for her.

“And she deserves the wonderful mom she has,” Spencer declared, kissing my forehead. I blushed at the compliment.

“Now, regarding this relationship,” he began pointing between the two of us. “You have nothing to worry about. They don't stand a chance, and you know why? Because they don't even compare to the most beautiful, smart and brave person I've ever met. Who owns a small bookstore downtown, and my heart. The woman I fell in love with the moment I saw her—the mother of my child. Who gave this idiot a chance to be in her life again even when he didn't deserve it. They are not you, my sweet girl. They will never be, and that's why I could never even look at them the way I look at you.“

Fuck Spencer Reid and his ability with words.

“You mean it?” I asked tentatively. Still unsure if he was being serious.

“Of course I mean it. I’m here for the long run, and I hope someday - sooner or later - we can take the next step. I want everything with you, (Y/N), but I’ll go at your pace. I promise.”

I couldn't help the giggles that left my lips.

Could love make you this way? I felt lighter and confident. Spencer's words made me see that I have no reason to sulk that way.

“Keep talking like that, and you'll get the world, Dr. Reid," I stated, now wrapping my arms around his neck. He chuckled.

“I don't need to get it. I already have it with you,” he said, giving a peck to my nose.

"You're a sap," I teased.

"And you love it,” he added, leaning down to kiss me. I happily obliged and kissed him back, tightening my grasp on his neck. His hands planted on my hips to keep me steady.

The kiss deepened, and only we parted when the need for air was too much.

He looked at me with a devilish smirk on his face.

“You know?” he started, kissing my cheek and then my jaw. “There is only one bedframe I would rather be tied to right now. And there is only one person I wish would do indescribable things to me as I’m tied up at her mercy,” he whispered in my ear, and immediately, I felt shivers down my spine.

“Spencer, don’t. That's not helping,” I mumbled with my eyes fluttering shut.

“Isn’t it? Why? Are you thinking about it right now?” He teased. The bastard knew what he was doing. “You would like to see me all tied up, waiting for my sweet girl to do what she wants? Would you like to be in control and show those moms who own me?” he asked, as his lips left traces of kisses on my neck. His hot breath was hitting on my skin and making my desire grow.

“Spencer,” I moaned, lost in his words and eager for his touch.

"Tell me what you want. I'll give you anything," he whispered in my ear, hands running down my sides, giving me goosebumps.

“You. I want you.” Those words left my lips like a prayer—the utter confession of desire and pent-up tension. Spencer grunted.

“You already have me. I’m yours,” he murmured, pulling up the hem of my shirt, so his hands could sneak under to feel my skin.

“And I’m yours. Totally yours. But I need to feel you,” I confessed. I was so lost in his touch and starved for more.

Spencer understood the meaning of my words, so he kissed me hungrily, walking us backward in the direction of my room.

That night Spencer proved to me, with kisses, caresses, and words of adoration, that my insecurities were unfounded. It's true that I'm not like Kimberly Garland, but I don't have to be. I have a daughter whom I adore and who

loves me, a job that fills me with satisfaction, and a boyfriend that I love and who does an excellent job of showing me how valuable and loved I can be.

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gumballavocadoharry · 7 months ago

Text

Estrangement:

*This is a POV of you and Harry's daughter Kaitlin. Yn= you and ofc Harry is your husband. Mentions of mistreatment towards their child. Not physical abuse but emotional neglect and somewhat abuse I guess.*

The wind shoved up against my curtains and the open window that let out a surreal glimpse into the real world. The California cotton candy sunset flashed it's colors in the sky, as the darkness of the soon to come night sky would befall it all. There I laid in bed, on my laptop checking out the Instagram friends I had for over the 2 years since I finally decided to create an account. I never posted anything, but it was an escape from the inhabitable environment of home.

Ah to be the middle child-the second to the oldest that was adored and loved by all the family. That was Kimberly. Our parents started the trend of naming us all with the letter K. Kimberly, Kaitlin, Kylie, Kameron and Kristopher (My brothers) and youngest named Kira. All six of with the letter...K. Although despite my name with the familiar syllable...that still didn't make me fit in.

Kimberly had her honors, her trophies hung up as prized possessions for achievements inside and outside school, Kylie had her art that she drew, even having an art wall put into her bedroom because....why not? Then the twins had their sports, the athletic side that earned them several trophies and praise from mom and dad, and then there was Kira. The baby of the family...she didn't have anything except cuteness that came as a surprise to everyone when the twins turned 6. She didn't have to work hard for attention, it came to her whether she wanted it or not.

Then there was me. In everyone's shadow. I liked poetry...I wrote some whenever I could find inspiration...but that didn't matter to anyone. My parents could care less. Kira appreciated it, so I would always doll out time to write about a mystical pony in the sky or a rainbow spotted cheetah that ran on the stars nighttime dust just to have a moment with the little girl before her bedtime.

My hair abruptly blew from the evening breeze that signaled it's reign. I typed away on the keys of my stone colored laptop, hoping one of my friends was up to chat. It wasn't often this peaceful in the house besides my bedroom, where laughter filled the hallways or the downstairs, or screams and cries echoed throughout bedrooms, mostly by the screaming toddler that didn't want to go to bed while all her siblings stayed up into late hours. That's where I'd come in with a story that sent little Kira right to sleep, hugging her stuffed moon pillow with the cutest little innocent face on it. Mom and dad never appreciated my efforts in putting my sister, their child to sleep. Almost like I was the ghost haunting the house just doing random deeds that no one felt the need to acknowledge.

Except for Kira, I was alone. The earthy sky and the now booming stars showed as my nightly companions if I happened to be up into late hours like tonight.

No reply from the instagram friends. The internet people from behind a screen that could live a thousand miles away from the scorching California summer, that despite the burning temperatures, still managed to give that bohemian summertime aesthetic all year round. Fall was a favored season of mine mostly due to the summer's temper finally cooling down for the year where sweat jackets were all anyone needed to step a foot outside.

My brown strands that were mixed with a honey blonde, laid neatly on my shoulders as I contemplated going downstairs to grab a drink. Maybe I'll be able to strike up a conversation with Kimberly about what type of tricks I can use to get the professor to lighten my load in my assignments. I was just kidding myself....goody two shoes will run to mommy and daddy and spill the beans, leading to a stern lecture about being honest and doing what's required of me in all I do in school despite never having the help I needed.

But to my luck, school was almost over and soon I'll be able to apply for a job that will land me into a steady track of a good income. I can say that I did this all by myself. My dad. The college professor at one of the most prestigious schools in the country couldn't even lift a finger to help me with any work even when I've asked. Long nights spent at the library, studying through every English literature book I could find is what pushed me up to the top tier. My mom being no better was a nag. She nagged me about nothing being done right with my chores all because I was 'studying' too much and was actually talking about me wanting to drop out.

I pushed them all away and forged a path on my own with the help of ambition and black coffee on those all nighters. I decided against going downstairs and just focused on my poetry. Little footsteps crawled through the mellow lit hallway and a soft knocked appeared on my door.

I carefully tiptoed to the door and spotted my little sister, sucking her thumb and finally suckling out about how she wanted another story read. I rubbed my strained eyes with some upcoming dark circles growing under them like a raccoon and invited her in. She took a seat on my bed as I read to her from a book of my poems that I had made myself.

Kira giggled as I imitated the voices of the characters I had imagined for them. "And then the big horse said-"

"Kira what are you doing out of bed!?" Mom came in, eyes instantly reverting to me as if I had somehow forced Kira out of bed to listen to my somber poems filled with deep angst and bitterness that I dare not squawk out to dispassionate family. Not even Kira knows the depths of emptiness I feel from a day-to-day basis from the excruciating nonchalant parents I have that force me to swallow myself whole and shield myself yet at the same time whenever I can feel disapproval coming on strong. Only me, never Kim, Kam, Kris, Ky or Kir thank goodness. I couldn't bare my youngest sister going through the pains of not having someone. And when I'm gone, I dread to see just how much of that nightmare is true.

Mom swept Kira off the bed like dust being swept in a dustpan and sweetly carried her back into her bedroom. But not before letting me have it, like she saw me as some villain trying tear apart her family. "Kaitlin! You are not supposed to disturb your sister when she's sleeping! You know better!"

"It's okay mommy, I went into her room," Sweet Kira insisted. "It's okay honey, let's just get you back to bed." The woman's eyes diverted themselves back to me. This time with more coldness. "You stay in your room and be quiet. I don't want to hear a peep from you." She sneered. She whisked Kira away and that was that. I listened closely by the doorframe of my bedroom, only to hear exaggerated kisses coming from Kira's bedroom. A smile snuck itself onto my face somehow, maybe for the sake of Kira getting all the love she deserves.

Coldness covered my back like a blanket, as I could see mom leaving Kira's room. She stared at my room with a deep glare before continuing on downstairs. I quietly got up and went back to my bed, staring at the half read story that was written for Kira. My eyes gazed back to the stars that had now showed themselves with their yellow glares that shined down on my hazel eyes. One day....it'll all be over. I tucked myself into bed after doing a french braid and laid back in the purple and gray covers that kept me warm until dawn. My opened window still let in that summertime breeze that swished the sweat from my head and the tears from my eyes.

Then darkness. I was asleep.

I woke up to the sun glaring through my bedroom window, it's fumy glow rested on my face as nature's alarm clock. I rubbed my tired eyes to notice the window was still open from last night. The fresh morning dew air tickled my nose as it swirled around the sunlight sherbet sky. The curtains swung back and fourth to the rhythm of the wind that captured a cool breeze into my room that made it less sufferance than yesterday's furious heat that left everyone's tongues out panting like a dog.

I made my way downstairs, finally getting ahold of some orange juice before the breakfast rush came in. Peace and quiet, my personal serenity from the other seven residents living in the perfect big house on a white picket fence hill. I swallowed harshly at the thought and continued pouring my orange juice into a big glass cup with pretty little designs on it. I sat in the kitchen nook taking in the summer morning that allowed me my peace and happiness even if it was to be temporary.

I closed my eyes and let my mind take me into my safe space, my personal little bubble that kept me sane, happy and wanted. Bouncing on bubbles type of happy, sunflower kiss happy, swimming in a bed full of lavenders happy. I breathed taking it all in, letting my brain fill with all sorts of dreams. Maybe I could catch them if I just....

The atmosphere changed. Dad had entered the room...I could feel it. The deep dive I had taken into fantasy world, was now tethering me back up to the main land. The somber reality of it all.

I opened my eyes, only to be met with distant and cold green ones that were so close, yet so far away. Hm, reminds me of Kristopher. He acted just like dad....only a little nicer. I was more accepting of his behavior because he's my brother....and siblings are supposed to tease each other right? But father's and daughters.....well dad's was more brutal...more condescending. It was inconsolable at times. The bright crimson sky had now metaphorically turned into an ugly black and grayish one filled with nightmares and turmoil.

He didn't even say good-morning. And well neither did I so we're even. "Good morning." I said finally grasping myself from my biased rudeness. No sense for me to be a jerk as well. Still no response just a "Mhmm." It wasn't until Kim joined in that he greeted her with a kiss and a "Good morning" as usual. Once again, alienated. Pretty soon the whole crowd started coming in and I was sitting in the kitchen nook still alienated from the residents.

Loneliness engulfed me like a wave washing over sand and leaving it moist and crushed, as the pack started rolling in for the breakfast rush. I ended up making some toast, coffee and cereal and took it all upstairs to my bedroom to eat and relax. But as my luck had it, I heard my dad's voice shift from the living and then eventually to the staircase. "Kaitlin! Come here now!" He yelled with a repugnant sneer.

I traipsed downstairs but was stopped midway by my dad putting his hand up. "What's this?" He said with a condescending tone. I looked down to see some spilled milk from when I was taking my cereal upstairs. "Milk," I answered. "I want you to come and clean this up." He finished, venom practically spilling from him lips. Dad pursed his lips and gave a strong grisly glare as I continued on down the stairs and made my way to the kitchen to grab some paper towels. As I returned, dad made me get on my hands and knees while he towered over me like a heavy rock threatening to crush it's little twigs that lie beneath it. He wanted me to feel powerless and patronized..that's where he got his second wind.

I cleaned up the mess and just took the paper towels upstairs with me to my bedroom, so I could tend to my soggy cereal and toast and cold coffee. Tears threatened to spill from my eyes as I took a sip from my cold watered down coffee. My small breakfast was ruined thanks to my dad who became livid over some spilled milk. I could hear him laughing it up with the rest of the family, not even caring that I wasn't to take delight in the family breakfast. I was too timid to even bother going downstairs and heating my coffee up, so I just took it as it was and left it at that.

My lips quivered as I took a bit from my toast and another from my cereal. I stomached through it and then tarnished the remains once I felt it safe to enter the kitchen. Kylie, Kimberly, Kristopher, Kameron and Kira were all the ones mom and dad seemed to truly love. The way mom flashes her natural motherly smile at them, they way dad grins as he shares his fatherly wisdom with them, encouraging them to give it their all and be the best version of themselves.

It was like seeing everyone's happiness through the eyes of a ghost. The only thing I focused on was throwing away my garbage and heating up a new cup of coffee. That's what I was getting because I deserved better. My spirits kept me afloat, through a complete tug-of-war with my heart and despondent thoughts. The beep of the microwave didn't stop anyone from their chatting, so I took my hot cup of coffee and made my way upstairs to my bedroom to drown myself in some school work. The sooner I graduated, the sooner I would be getting that job as a writer. I plugged in my headphones and drowned myself in writing my essay to send into the teacher.

Trade school was like that. But it was less stressful then college so I took that over any day, the last thing I needed was more heartache to add to what I was facing at home. My endurance was tested everyday with new and different things. I should be grateful. It's made me a stronger person I guess.

Later that afternoon, I asked mom if I could go to the library to study. I prayed she'd let me go because in her eyes, it would get me out of the house. Of course she said yes, probably thinking the same thing just in a more strident way of thinking. I grabbed my backpack and dashed out the door. The last thing I needed was another setback like the one dad gave me this morning.

The library was finally peace and quiet. It reminded me of the tranquility of relief I felt this morning. Just me and the other 4 people scattered across the section. Disappearing for me felt freeing, no one could hurt me, no one could say anything that breaks down the brick wall that has encased me inside. I pulled a few promising books from the shelf before diving right into to a computer and finishing my studies there. My eyes moved back and fourth from the bright screen, then to the basic pages of the book. I was chiefly more focused on the book and writing notes into my online notebook to clear the clutter of having scattered flash cards or notebook pages that were trailed into different sections that after awhile became confusing and only gave me the bare minimum of what I needed.

My head was consistently shoved into a book for 3 hours straight until I decided enough was enough and that I needed to catch a break from all the studying. So I grabbed my backpack, swung it over my shoulder and left the library for some coffee. I walked along the sandy colored pathway to the nearest downtown coffee shop, only to see the line was overwhelmingly vast. The galling amount of customers was going to be too much for me to handle if I hadn't noticed the blonde haired boy serving the drinks. I quickly plopped myself in line, anxiously waiting to be served by the charmer making the lattes.

To my one in a million break, the line moved rather faster than when I had looked in the window. The varying customers left one by one out of the line with their espresso treats, while I was only three customers in from meeting fate in a green apron and a dimpled smile. My cheeks burned when I swore he made eye contact with me. These hazel eyes really captured his attention?

I was already rehearsing my order in my head for when I got to the counter as not to choke on the right words from a pretty face making direct contact with me. An iced vanilla latte with whipped cream and caramel drizzle.....and maybe one of those fudge brownies that look so delicious?

Finally was up to the line after the woman in front of me got her regular hazelnut coffee that she too impatient to drink once she was out of the line. I cleared my throat and looked confidently in the barista's eyes, despite his matching hazel ones being intimidating ample. "I-I would like an iced vanilla latte with whipped cream and caramel sauce. And a fudge brownie please." I politely requested.

The blonde haired boy typed in the order and asked if there was anything else I would like. "No that'll be all." He smiled and waited for me to hand him my card. With shaky, infatuated hands, I gave him my card to swipe. "Alrighty, you're all set." He smiled and immediately got to work on my coffee and snack. I blushed deeply as I remembered his fingers touched my hand as he took my card. I shuffled my card back into my wallet as a partial excuse to shield my face from his seeing me scarlet stained cheeks from his encounter.

Pretty soon, I saw my coffee was served right in front of me along with a packaged brownie cake and a handsome smile that farewelled me with; "Have a nice day." I smiled back and repeated those words to him before grabbing my coffee and brownie and then leaving. I shoved my phone into my pocket to enjoy my brownie and iced coffee as I walked along downtown and sight see all the different tall buildings that and the short offices that still added depth to the anomalous city. I finished my brownie, now it was just my coffee that needed my attention I sipped along to when I spotted a large building that sent phobic chill up my spine. My heart raced at an irrational but sensible speed the more I walked past it.

My father's school where he worked. Sure he was a hit with all the kids that he shared his immeasurable knowledge of life and of science with. Word on the street was Professor styles is a excellent teacher and his skills are astute! Even I had to agree with it to a perspective...dad was one very intelligent man. But a horrid father to me. I decided to suck in my hostage breath and face a very inhibit fear of mine that shouldn't even began to exist. I walked through the tall brownish red doors that led me to the highly lavish main floor of classrooms and lockers that were attached to the ornate walls. I chugged my coffee down anxiously as I wandered through the exquisite college that I felt out of place at.

My feet dared not turn to the cursed third floor, room 109 where my dad taught his classes there only to those who were desirable in his eyes...which was everyone but me. But my inquisitive brain was in full control of my feet that took me straight to the elevator, and pressed the third floor button almost as if it had some macabre pleasure in seeing myself become jaded and disgustingly humiliated from the elective situations I sometimes put myself in involving my parents. It was obvious that I just didn't have that type of relationship with them...I just didn't have it.

The elevator doors opened to reveal a still expensively decorated hallway and classroom door. My stomach grew into knots as I tiptoed down the quiet hallway nervously sipping my iced coffee to it's ending. My throat became dry and hollow and my lungs grew bitter the more my eyes darted across the different classroom door numbers.

107, 106, 108...109.

My lips became dry and chapped as my now pale skin grew more and more white as shivers sprinted inside of me. My hands literally shook from wanting to open the door to the large college classroom styled like an auditorium just to sit in and maybe listen to a lecture from which my dad had rehearsed specifically for the class. Sweat introduced itself into my forehead as I thought about the consequences if I were to be seen by him. The embarrassment that I cause him might make his class lose respect for him which would then make him furious with me, leading to him making my life more of a living hell.

I decided it wouldn't be that bad since the lecture hall was so big, that it would be a in a million of him spotting me. Maybe, I just could ponder on one or two words that incited percipience in me. I opened the door and took a seat at the top that was hard to spot from a below point of view. I finished my coffee and listened intently to the lecture dad was giving on science and humanity.

"The human heart is a vital organ in the body that gives us life..it allows us to run and walk and jump and survive even in the most tedious situations. But what about the heart of the mind? The one that allows us to feel, to think, to see not with our eyes...but with our perception?"

I was so invested into the conversation that I didn't even realize the worst....I had been spotted.

Dad's eyes, once full of insight and deep logic...now were glacial, passionless and aloof. I swallowed hard to lubricate my throat from the tense dryness I felt all until now. Should I leave? I wondered turning away from the gelid professor. I stood up and walked out of the lecture, not even caring what anyone else thought. They were probably too focused on the 'world's best teacher.'

I exited the school and ran as fast as I could outside, to get lost in the day-to-day of downtown.

Back at home, I entered the house barely making eye contact with anyone and hurrying myself up to my room and locking the door behind me. I didn't come until later when I was called downstairs in a callous voice.

I demurely opened the door, stepped outside in the cold wooded floor hallway and walked down the matching icy wooded steps. There dad was sitting...waiting for me with resentment deep inside his expression.

"Hey dad, mom says dinner is almost ready," Kristopher interrupted to my gratefulness. "Thank you bud, I'll be right there." A completely different man! So warm and gentle and was completely placated in his temper. But he switched it off when his eyes darted towards me. I came closer and sat across from him, almost wanting to intimidate him.

"Why were you in the college today?" He said quietly with a hiss to his words. His illiberal tone made me rethink my answer that was drowning in my paralyzed throat that was dead to speak. "I-I heard your speech....I mean....I wanted to hear your speech because it was so good and I had just come back from the library and- "

"Isn't studying your own topic enough for you?" My dad sneered bitterly. "What are you taking these classes for if you can't even have the passion to listen to them?" I blinked back tears and swallowed hard as to not choke out a sob. "I don't want you doing that ever...again. Understood?" Dad looked at me with abhor, building deep in his eyes the more his eyes stared deeply into mine. I nodded before retiring to my bedroom and missing dinner that was waiting for everyone downstairs. My stomach growled harshly as the only thing I had eaten was a brownie and an iced coffee for the past few hours.

But my intemperate bitter sadness nested itself around me, as I cried into my pillow, tears puncturing wrinkles and damp spots into the pillowcase. I sobbed loudly into my pillow, not allowing room for any shallow breaths to escape my lungs that were too busy spilling out bottled up fuming emotions to care. It wasn't until a soft knock on my door interrupted my emotional fest. I doddered over to the door, wiping my face careen hoping the red eyes would be seen as an allergy.

I cracked open the oak colored door to see the little girl with the pigtails and two chocolate chip cookies in her hand, anxiously waiting for the door to open to her invite. "Hey Kira, what are doing?" "You didn't come down for dinner, so I brought you these cookies so you wouldn't be hungry."

My heart stung with hope. Someone...someone cared after everything that went on today. I meekly opened the door and invited Kira in. I shared the other cookie with her maybe as a subliminal award for caring. And because, I was deeply grateful for her generosity. As much as I tried to hide it, the sweet 7 year old noticed my teary trails and my red burning eyes of sadness. "Why are you crying Kaitlin?" She had that innocent little lisp that foiled her from saying my name in it's clearness, but I fully understood what she meant.

I sniffled, chocking back a pathetic cry as to not let a 7 year old know every painful detail, detailing the atrocious events of tonight. "Katie's very sad because she had a bad day." To put it simply. Kira nuzzled herself over to me and hugged me tightly in her little arms. Her puny little body, filled a warm sensation of love that was describable in this moment. If I could pick her up and move her with me when I go, I would no doubt about it.

After everyone had retired themselves upstairs for leisure or sleep, I snuck downstairs to the kitchen where the leftovers were stored away and plopped a reasonable portion of meatloaf, mashed potatoes and asparagus onto my plate that I heated in the microwave oven for a measly 3 minutes. I had poured a glass of lemonade and made a neat napkin with a fork and then moved quicker than light upstairs with my dinner once it was finished.

I ate silently in my room, concentrating on each bite that I collected with my fork and hungrily shoved into my mouth. Once my dinner was finished, I set aside my plate and got to work on some more assignments. The sky was a peach rose-colored that struck awe with me. The subliminal stars appeared in the sky as the day was soon about to hand it's shift over to a mystifying night that would have more of jovial breeze than the burning summer's eve. The weather shouted California as the summer gained more reign through the months.

I still admired the way the heat itched my skin, and the way the sun slapped it's sunny glow onto my face in the morning. It just felt so earthy and sweet, refreshing as I would say taking a walk into the woods where the sun played peek-a-boo behind the tall lanky trees and that ignited the gentle birds to tweet their song like melodies with such grace.

A prompt I had used for my writing assignment earned me a meritorious A+. I remembered the last time I had showed my parents an A+ I had received from a class, their reaction was that of a nonchalant wind blowing the green grass in the midday. "That's nice Kaitlin." Mom said with distance. "Nice." Dad had barely looked up from his cell phone. That was more important. "Had I offended them?" My 6 year old mind thought. But no, that was just their initial reaction....their typical reaction.

I was used to giving myself pats on the back for a job well done or from a unwonted teacher who would praise me and give me a reward for my hard work. Usually it was those ones who showed up to my recitals, to my plays and to field day where I showed off any talent I had in those categories. I just focused on that. Not the reality of my parents shoving us all in the car to see the twin's soccer games, or Kylie's art shows or Kimberly's extracurricular college activities. I sniffled while writing the last sentence of my writing assignment. I sent it in and then logged out for the night, wanting to catch up on some well needed rest.

I woke up the smell of bacon cooking. My tummy growled as I thought about the sweet meal that was waiting downstairs. I knew I would never be apart of it, but nothing like that was going to faze me seeing at how I was only two assignments short from graduating. Everything was set, my money, empty boxes ready to be filled with every belonging I had ever owned in this room and a present for Kira. She needed it, after all....I wasn't ever coming back. Exhilaration climaxed through my body as my pins and needles tongue finally licked my lips to motivate them to open in a delighted open smile that flashed my deep dimples and my cherry sour lips.

Rent for an apartment was going to be no problem as I had already started creating my resume. All I needed was the degree that would set it all on track for me. I had saved some energy bars away in my desk and nibbled on them before grabbing my backpack filled with the most important books and raced downstairs. "Hey," I interrupted as the room fell silent. Not with grasping attention toward the speaker because of the importance of their words, but because of the murk hue that spoiled the family's breakfast. My siblings looked at me with confusion while my parents looked on with a sullen glower look.

"Could I go to the library? I really need to study," As if they needed an explanation. Mom looked to dad, waiting for an answer. "Be back by 5....it's your brother's soccer match tonight." I nodded gratefully and escaped the house as they continued their lovely meal. In a feeling a nostalgia, I practically skipped to the library for the last time in a sense of studying. This was it...the moment I had been waiting for my entire life! My ticket to self freedom. Finally setting myself free from the sinkhole of my home. Or should I say current place of residence.

I hopped on the computer and completed the two assignments with such ease, that I wondered if I was really that lucky. The words; Congratulations Kaitlin! You have officially completed your course in creative writing. Your graduation date will be posted to your home page along with the expected arrival date of your diploma.

Tears...tears fell freely from my eyes looking back and fourth at the screen of my success. I celebrated with a coffee and trip to the store to buy myself a beautiful locket in remembrance of this day.

As promised, I was home by five cautiously coming through the door, and wiping my sneakers off on the welcome mat as routine. My backpack tiredly slung over my shoulder tracing itself down to my elbow as I shut the rounded shaped blue door soundly to announce my punctual presence in the house. Confusion stabbed me as to why they would want an 'outcast' at the soccer game when they didn't even want me at the dinning room table?

I walked upstairs and changed clothing not realizing the house being suspiciously quiet. "Mom, dad? I'm home!" Those words cringed well with me. I checked everyone's bedrooms, but no one in sight. I called their cellphones, but no answer. I sat in my room, staring up at the ceiling in what to do next. The white colored plastered ceiling didn't give me any idea as to where everyone had gone. To the store maybe?

Hours passed until the sound of the door unlocking grabbed my attention. I rushed to the stairwell to see the whole gang coming in with Kristopher and Kameron holding their trophies while being cheered on by everyone for a great game. It still didn't register with me that maybe the game started earlier and they didn't have time to call me? Or was that giving them too much of an inch?

It was simple....they didn't want me there.

It shouldn't have hurt by now as I already knew I wasn't part of the family, but that didn't stop me from racing back to my bedroom and crying my eyes out in my pillow again. There was no questions about it anymore....

It was time to go.

Part 2 will be posted soon!!!!!

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jjsmaybank20 · 2 years ago

Note

heyyyy! can i request a leighton murray x younger finkle sibling fic where they try to hide it from kimberley

Sneaking

Leighton Murray x fem!Finkle!reader

Summary: You are Kimberly's younger sister, and when you and Leighton start dating, you sneak around behind your sister's back.

Warnings: fluff, slight smut

Word Count: 1.1k

A/N: Hope you like it!

navigation the sex lives of college girls masterlist

---

When Kimberly mentioned that she had a younger sister, the suitemates were expecting a younger, maybe even more annoying version of her. When she described you as a leather-jacket type with tattoos but with manners that rivaled her own, the girls obviously doubted her. Especially since Kimberly said that her ex-boyfriend looked like Shawn Mendes, and he ended up looking like… well, definitely not like Shawn Mendes. They thought that maybe you had gotten one tattoo, or worn a brown leather jacket once, and now that was how Kimberly described you.

But you. Oh, you. She didn’t exaggerate at all. In fact, she probably underexaggerated. You went to a school near Essex, and when you finally found time to come and visit your sister, Kimberly’s roommates couldn’t hide their shock if they even tried.

You rolled up in front of the dorms on your motorcycle, white t-shirt hugging your muscles and full-sleeve tattoos on display. The girls stood in shock as Kimberly ran towards you and jumped into your arms, you barely catching her before turning your bike off and walking forward with you still supporting her.

“This is a prank, right? Like, she hired someone to act like her sister or something. There is no way they’re related,” Whitney states. When she gets no response, she looks at the other two girls for backup. She sees both Bela and Leighton staring at you with their jaws dropped, and just a little bit of drool escaping from Leighton’s mouth.

She taps her blonde friend’s chin, which makes Leighton snap out of her stupor and subtly wipe her mouth. When you finally get to your sister’s friends, you put her down and stick out your hand. “Hey, y’all! I’m Y/N Finkle, Kimberly’s younger sister. I’ve sure heard a lot about you.” Bela’s eyes seem to bug out of her head even further if possible as she exclaims, “Younger?!”

You let out a laugh that makes Leighton’s heart eyes grow somehow bigger, and you reply, “Yes, ma’am. One year, to be exact. Most people can’t tell, given the height difference.” The girls nod, noting the foot difference. All of you stand there, looking at each other for a second longer before Whitney claps her hands and says, “Okay! How about we go to the room and get to know each other better?” All of you agree, and you follow behind the girls, not being able to help the way that your eyes keep drifting towards a certain blonde.

---

After that day, the girls took a strong liking to you, especially Leighton. You quickly noticed the attention she would give you when you hang out in a group, and soon you began inviting her to hang out with you one-on-one.

You would never assume someone’s sexuality, so you never made a move on Leighton no matter how much you wanted to. On the other side of things, Leighton was becoming increasingly frustrated with you, and how you never could get the hint that she just wanted to make out with you already.

One day, you took her to a movie theater. Every time you took a handful of popcorn, your hands seemed to brush together. Finally, Leighton couldn’t take anymore of your prolonged stares at the side of her head. She muttered, “Fuck it,” underneath her breath, and as you started to ask, “Wha-” She straddled your lap and smashed your lips together.

Let’s just say that you have no clue what happened in the movie, nor did you really care all that much.

Since then, all of your hang outs with Leighton had been classified as dates. It wasn’t long before you asked her to be your girlfriend, and she said yes. Your relationship was perfect. Except for one little thing. Leighton didn’t want to tell Kimberly about it, feeling like she would think that this was revenge for Kimberly sneaking around with her brother.

The other girls knew, as they had walked in on the two of you making out more times than any of you could count, but Kimberly, being the clueless person she is, somehow kept missing the signs. You couldn’t help but want to tell her, as the two of you were close and usually told each other everything, but Leighton insisted, and you couldn’t deny her.

Sneaking around began to get more difficult, as Kimberly had a habit of not knocking and an impossible talent of barging in at the absolute worst time. Now, she definitely wasn’t stupid, but her denial ability was top-notch. It wasn’t until she caught you and Leighton with your pants down, literally, that she finally realized what was going on.

Kimberly opened the door to Leighton’s room, asking, “Hey, Leighton, have you seen my- OH MY GOD!” She quickly covers her eyes, trying to erase the sight in front of her from her memory. There you are, her younger sister, knuckle deep in her roommate and friend.

You scramble off of Leighton, quickly covering her up, as she was fully naked and you still had your boxers and sports bra on. Kimberly quickly walks out of the room as best she can with her eyes still closed, bumping into the doorframe on her way out. You let out a sigh before turning to your girlfriend and murmuring, “I’ll talk to her.” Leighton nods, and you pull on your shorts and go into the living room.

You sit down next to your sister, who quickly turns to you and accusingly exclaims, “You’re sleeping with Leighton? Why didn’t you tell me? I thought we told each other everything!” You put your hands on her shoulders, trying to get her to calm down. “Kimberly, breathe. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but Leighton didn’t want to just yet. Also, I’m not just sleeping with her, we’re dating.”

Kimberly can’t think of anything to say as she stares at you. She finally points a finger in your face and as threateningly as she can says, “Don’t you dare hurt her. She’s already been through a lot.” You nod and laugh at Kimberly’s attempt to scare you, and you wrap your arms around her shoulders.

“Wouldn’t even dream of hurting her, sis. I’m glad that she has someone like you in her corner. You’re good for her.” Kimberly smiles at you. You both hear Leighton clear her throat from the door of her room before she mumbles, “Yeah, I don’t know about that. She keeps stopping me from getting some.” Kimberly’s face flushes red again as she remembers what she had interrupted, and she begins to profusely apologize.

You laugh before calming your sister down, and she goes back into her room mumbling something about never being able to look at you the same. Leighton comes over to the couch and sits down on your lap. You look at her before asking, “Doesn’t that feel better? Like a weight has been lifted off of you?” She shrugs, but then nods. You smile at her before she mumbles, “Now, where were we?” Let’s just say that that was not the only time that Kimberly got traumatized by the two of you.

---

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#leighton murray x y/n #leighton murray x you #leighton murray x reader #leighton murray #leigton murray fluff #the sex lives of college girls x y/n #the sex lives of college girls x you #the sex lives of college girls x reader #the sex lives of college girls imagine #the sex lives of college girls #sex lives of college girls #tslocg

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girldragongizzard · 1 month ago

Text

Chapter 8: The disaster

The officer who’s been talking turns on a flashlight and shines it through the window of the door into the rest of the cafe and swings it around, squinting. I look away before the light passes over me. There isn’t much point to what he’s doing, because the shop lights are on, but he’s clearly doing it to be an asshole.

Then he states, “We’d like to interview the others in your establishment.”

“I’ll ask them if they’ve seen him,” Kimberly says. Then she turns to the rest of us and shouts, “Have any of you seen [deadname] or know where he is?”

We all shake our heads.

I don’t look back to acknowledge while I do this, just in case my retinas are reflective. I am in my human disguise, but that only works if one of my tells doesn’t give it away.

“Nope!” Kimberly reports back to the police officer.

“We’d like to search the premises.”

“You’ll have to come back with a warrant to do that.”

“We can do that,” the officer says with a bit more volume and irritation. “What are you all doing in there?”

“After hours staff meeting, sir,” Kimberly reports.

Nathan is doing a great job of looking official and imposing, without looking exactly threatening, while standing next to Kimberly. He’d normally be the one to talk to the police like this, and he’s usually very good at it. But Kimberly beat him to the punch.

The officer scowls and says something to his partner, then asks, “What about?”

“The dragon,” Kimberly says, looking a bit more serious and earnest. “We need to figure out what to do about her. She’s turning out to be a real disaster.”

That does not go over my head, and I cannot believe she just said that with an even tone of voice.

Miriam smirks and stifles a snicker.

Jill shushes her.

And it’s at that the officer relaxes.

“That’s understandable,” he says a bit less audibly. Then louder again, “You let us know if you see him again. You call it in, you hear? We’ll take care of him. Have a good night, and don’t stay here too late.”

“You got it! Yes, sir!”

As the police go about leaving, Kimberly and Nathan make their way back to our circle.

And Ptarmigan puts her sketchbook away and says, “I can do that all night, every night.”

“Do what?” Kimberly asks.

“Subtly keep the authorities from really bothering you.”

“Why were they here in the first place, then?”

“Extreme circumstances, and I slipped up,” Ptarmigan replies. “Fixed it, though. This probably works out better, anyway.”

“How so?”

“They came, they saw, and they feel like they did their job,” the Artist of Nightmares explains.

Cerce leans forward, “So, now Meg is wanted on suspicion for causing a car wreck?”

“Anurak says she didn’t even come near it,” Caleb speaks up, looking at his phone.

“I didn’t,” I type. “That was Anurak. I was in the sky, though. Circling. Everyone saw me. Interested.” It’s so much easier for me to report facts now, but I think I’m coming back to myself from being stunned by the onslaught of “observations” from my friends.

It’s weird. The shock of adrenaline from the police makes it easier for me to think. It’s washed my other emotions free of my mind.

Rhoda really did invite me to spend the night with her, if I get really serious about something.

She said that if this was just a story, then what she’d been doing was something she never wanted to do. The role she was playing. And it doesn’t occur to me right away what role that was. So I consider her next statement that I remember, which was that if it all wasn’t just a story, she wasn’t doing everything for just me.

I thought we were doing everything for each other. Well. OK, for all the dragons in the city, originally, which is basically for me, yes. But once we’d identified just who and what Säure is, then it became clear the scope of things.

Except, it kind of starts to hit me. Probably because of the whole useless lesbian disaster thing.

What was Rhoda doing just before she left? She was telling me who and what I was.

That’s all she did in this meeting. And I wasn’t really ready to hear it. Which is pretty typical of the hero of a sto – Ah.

I start to sink in my chair, I feel so fucking embarrassed.

I think I can puzzle this out so many different ways in the framework I’ve made for myself.

Like, if I’m a story and a myth, like I’ve come to believe thanks to Wentin, then maybe I can’t be the hero. The hero would be someone else.

And I think I can make that fit a lot of the point that Rhoda might have been trying to make, but not all of it. Except she explicitly said, she doesn’t see me as a story or a myth. And the others agree.

Maybe I’m the story of a dragon who’s become a person. A story who’s become a person. Like Kim, Cerce, and Kimberly were saying. But then, that means I’m just a person now. Like I’d been striving to believe and fight for a few weeks ago.

But, if that’s the case, then how can I break physics with the power of narrative like I’ve done?

Do I have to choose? One thing or the other? The solidarity and comfort of being a person, or the power of being a myth?

I think I know which one I’d rather have, honestly, but the consequences scare me shitless.

As everyone is settling back down while talking about the encounter with the cops, and my brooding thoughts are dragging me further into my seat, Wentin makes a spooky whistling noise behind me and then speaks up.

“I am also done here,” it declares. “Meghan, I have more training for you. When you are ready for it, find me in the places you fear the most.”

And then it’s gone before anybody looks.

And I have a full body flashback.

—

Something small and hard hits me in the back of my right shoulder as I’m crouched over the Tonka tractor in the school sandbox. It bounces off me, stinging, and I see the rock arc over my head and land in the dirt.

It’s noon, of course, being lunch, and there’s enough sun that my shadow is stark against the ground beside me.

When this happened, I had turned to face my assailants, four of the boys. And the big sandy blonde one had been yelling at me. And nothing after that went down the way I would have liked.

But this time, out of the corner of my eye I see my shadow transform and unfold as I crouch forward onto all four legs, stretching wings, tail and neck out, to work out the kinks, and screech.

And this time, when I turn, my vision widening as I do to encompass the entire schoolyard as it should, what I see are children desperately trying to turn and run fast enough to get away from me.

My prey drive kicks in and I chase them down, just as I did in my imagination a hundred times over that day.

The visit to the nurse’s office will be different this time.

It won’t be my blood.

—

I may have snarled, but I’m surrounded by friends in my favorite coffee shop.

“Hey, Meghan,” Bri asks, “Are you OK?”

Chairs are knocked over and I’m no longer disguised. I’m fully me.

No one’s hurt, but I probably should have gone to counseling today.

I look around and find my tablet on the floor below my chest, so I draw it out and type, “Startled. Wentin did something. I think.”

I think.

“Yeah, it does that to me too,” Nathan says.

“I go,” I say. “Need alone.” Then I pick up my tablet and start putting it into my purse.

But Kimberly comes forward and says, “Hey, it’s OK. You just had a fight today with the biggest dragon anyone’s seen. We’re all jumpy. Have a sit down and I’ll make you some tea. I think we’ve got more planning to do after you’ve calmed down. Like about how you’re gonna go up and see Rhoda.”

“No,” I say.

I mean, she’s right. That’s what I need to do. But I’m not ready to do it. And to get myself ready, safely, I think I need my rooftop, as dangerous as that might be.

It’s way past sunset.

But I’ll be awake, pacing. I’ll be ready if Säure tries anything.

“No,” I repeat and finish what I’m doing. “Me. Go. Now.”

Cerce leans over to look Kimberly in the face and says, “Let her go. I think she knows what she needs. We’ve got this.” Then to me, “Meghan, we’ve got this. We’ll figure this all out. We’ve got all the knowledge and the tools. You take all the time you need.”

“It’s true,” Ptarmigan says, and Chapman looks at her.

“Hold up,” Chapman says, and rushes over to my side as I’m headed for the door. Sie looks me in the eye. I don’t even need to turn my head. And sie says, “I’m gonna come up there. Just for a few minutes, OK? The roof, right? I want to make sure you’re safe. Then I’ll leave you alone.” Then she turns to Bri and Miriam, “Can I use the chalk you use for your menu boards?”

Miriam gestures to the front, “There’s a tub of it under the counter. Use as much as you need. We’ll get more before we need to change the menu.”

“Thank you.”

—

It’s interesting to watch as Chapman wordlessly scrawls out the pattern of an esoteric and intricate circuit around me.

In the dark, the chalk glows.

But, I’m already left to my thoughts, and the company isn’t at all distracting.

I have so much to consider. So much to review and re-examine.

If my childhood is really where I began to learn to be a person, then not only is it part of my story, so is the rest of my adolescence and adulthood.

I was never who I was back then, but I was there. It was still me.

I know of trans people who were more dissociated than I was. Who, in their transition, the shell of the person they’d been pretending to be either shattered and took huge swaths of memories with it, or turned out to be a whole other person sharing their body with them. Maybe they’d have DID for a month or so until they worked it out. I definitely know some of them did that, worked it out, made peace with their old selves and reintegrated. And, of course, there are others who didn’t, who are still two or more people sharing a body.

I idly wonder if there are any people with DID who aren’t technically trans in some way.

I wonder if Astraia is trans, not for the first time. But that’s beside the point.

That didn’t happen to me.

The shell, the act, the way that I presented myself through my egg years was so thin. I did know what I was, at least in terms of being a dragon. And I guess I just leaned on the basic trauma responses of freeze and fawn, most of the time, to get through everything. There was definitely some fleeing. And a lot of daydreaming.

I was dissociated from my body and the world around me, not from myself.

Not that that makes me better than anyone else. It’s just what happened.

I’m pretty sure, at least. I can’t think of any time where it felt like I was a different person or someone had control of my body that wasn’t me.

But it still feels right to say that I was never the person a lot of other people wanted me to be, for the longest time. And I wasn’t fully present.

And in time, I ended up running away from everyone who hurt me just by looking at me, and I found myself in this building, with these neighbors and this coffee shop.

I haven’t been naming the shop because I can’t bear to give it a fake name like I’ve been slowly giving everything and everyone else. It’s too important to me. I want the truth of it to shine as brightly as possible.

The staff and the regulars there are people, apparently, who saw me before I finally got to see myself. And I’ve already said that in so many ways, but it’s amazing how incredible that is. It’s amazing how rare.

And then here was Rhoda, maybe seeing something even more in me than that.

She literally gave me my voice.

She didn’t make it.

It wasn’t an enchantment or spell or Art.

She just found it free in the app store and then paid a little bit for the pro version, and gave it to me.

Maybe she had to look hard for it, though. Because, out of curiosity, I’ve looked at a bunch of other AAC apps that are out there, and so many of them really suck. Or, at least, they’re not suited to me and my needs. Rhoda found just the right one.

She’s also invited me regularly back to her apartment for a nightly evening of tea and conversation, despite how I’d been attacked in my own by Joel that day she gave me my voice.

And that’s the same day I met Chapman, who’s doing what sie can to take care of me now.

Chapman, whom I still goofily enamored with, when I think about it. But sie has said we have all of the time in the world to figure that out, and now I know what sie means by that, and I don’t feel so rushed to get to know hir.

We can put a pause on our friendship, or partnership, or whatever we’ll be, until I’ve worked things out with Rhoda. Which is nice, because Rhoda is clearly uncomfortable around Chapman to the extreme.

They’ve worked together. They’ve cooperated. They haven’t really even fought. But Rhoda’s drawn her line, and Chapman’s on the other side of it.

And I thought I was, too. But apparently, I’m not? Maybe I’m right on the line.

I look off toward the East, where we all last saw Säure flying.

I’d really like to see him destroyed. And everyone like him. But, honestly, I always have. Mostly, I need him, specifically, out of my hair.

Which is an interesting need, because I don’t have hair.

Eh, it’s an idiom.

What is it that Rhoda sees in me?

I’m not such a disaster that I can’t see, at this point, that she wouldn’t have given me this chance if she didn’t feel like she needed me in her life for some reason.

Maybe I already give her something without even knowing it.

Maybe it’s time for me to go and find out what that is.

Chapman’s just finishing up hir work, and when sie’s done sie comes over to me and says, “If Säure comes anywhere near this building, this will give him a huge, distracting surprise. And it should give you time to escape. Just jump off the side and hide in the alley, or run. On the ground. You know the idea. And, when you’re ready to leave, if he hasn’t shown up yet, try not to smudge it. It’ll still be useful for the night. There’s a path to the hatch, and I’m going to take it now.”

I do wonder how other cities are handling their big fucking billionaires. If any of them are also dragons. Do they have their own Artists of… what? Doing whatever it is they do to protect them?

If the Artists are in control of everything, they’ve let the billionaires exist. And if other billionaire dragons are as big as Säure, it is kind of on them, then, isn’t it?

Säure’s the only one who’s intimated that’s how it works.

“Thanks,” I say.

“You have a good night, Meg. And good luck,” Chapman says. “I need to go keep an eye on Ptarmigan. And Cerce is right. We’ve got this. It’s a complicated knot, but I happen to make knots. And Ptarmigan unravels them, in her way.”

I bow my head.

“Your family cares about you,” Chapman says. “That’s what anybody really needs.”

Kind of a weird thing to hear from one of the Artists, actually. But probably true.

And then sie leaves.

My family.

Did I ever mention I have a younger sister? Four years younger than me. And she’s doing pretty well for anyone living in this world. Raising her own family down in Seattle.

My parents visit her pretty regularly.

I haven’t been, because I didn’t have the money or the means.

But it occurs to me now that I could just fly there now. And if I’m quiet and respectful about it, I could probably avoid fights with any of the dragons down there now.

Heck. They might even have a Seattle message board or Discord server that puts mine to shame. Just pop on there and let them know when and where I’ll be, visiting family who I’m not sure even really wants to see me, and I’d probably be OK.

But that’s not the family Chapman was talking about.

I stand up and fold myself into my magical girl faerie princess outfit and start walking toward the hatch while I adjust my purse to hang crossbody.

#dragons #writeblr #original fiction #serial fiction #transformation #transgender

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fuckyeahjasonkimberly · 6 months ago

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are you trying to say their relationship in the return is predatory? because if so, i'm going to need you to look up what that means before tossing claims like that around. aside from the fact that it doesn't make sense to given they were married as adults and he's still an adult, there's no way in the world they'd OK an actual predatory relationship for kid-friendly power rangers. seriously.

you don't like tommy/kim - that's your prerogative. but you sound silly. stop.

"are you trying to say" already phrasing it as 'trying to say' and ending it in a question mark, means I didn't say it. the closest I got to saying 'predatory' was posting that Chris Hansen meme, which was just in response to the ask I got about Chris Hansen. 🤷

but since we're here, let's talk about it a bit.

Tommy and Kim got married and had this child about 5 years give or take after graduation. so Tommy is certainly closer to Olivia's age than he is to Kimberly's at this point. he literally called them OLD right to their faces. took one look at them and it was the first words out of his mouth.

and tbh I'm not even an anti in terms of shipping. I don't particularly care if/how much a ship is considered 'problematic'. but it's still a very odd choice to go out of your way to take a ship that is perfectly normal and fine, and make it weird and uncomfortable on purpose. he could have just walked out of there with a beard and some crow's feet and no one would have questioned it.

& putting aside his physical age, it's evident he's also considerably younger mentally. he said he felt like he'd been gone for a few days, whereas it's been a good 20+ years for everyone else (actual numbers from the 30th anniversary special). so instead of growing into the role of Olivia's father organically, he's now expected to be a daddy to a girl who's practically old enough to move out and start paying taxes. not to mention being a husband to a woman who's been grieving him far longer than they were actually married.

he even says "now that there are no more power rangers, I don't know who I'm supposed to be" which shows it doesn't even occur to him to view himself as a husband and father. and to make matters worse, Kim doesn't even try to point this out herself, beyond insistently calling him her husband, which, he legally is not since 'Tommy Oliver' died. he's got a very basic and impersonal tombstone to prove it. he's gonna need an alter ego like miss Emma. i guess they'll be the "Phillips" family now.💀

but anyway instead of saying something like "we may not be power rangers, but we're a family, and you have an equally important job now", she instead launches directly into trying to get the team all back together and tells Tommy to 'train' Olivia instead of you know, parent her. but at least it shows she recognizes what Tommy really wants, which definitely isn't to play house with her. 💀💀

now, given that there is a clear resemblance between Tommy and Olivia, and they're obviously close in age, it's likely that almost everyone else is going to assume they're brother & sister rather than father & daughter. so it sure is gonna be fun when they go out for a nice family dinner and people think it's a single mom out with her two kids lmfao.

now imagine Jason's there and guess who people are gonna think the daddy is?

#ask #mmpr #power rangers #kimberly hart #tommy oliver #the return #comics #like im sorry this mess is the best ajj could give yall while jdf gave the rest of us soul of the dragon :))

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baronessblixen · 1 year ago

Text

Prompt: 26. "Honestly, why would I care?"

Angsty humor: All Mulder wanted to do was drop off a report. Now he has to deal with a drunk Skinner. (wc: 1,482)

Tagging @today-in-fic @xffictober2023

Fictober Day 28: The Truth Is (Not) Found In A Glass of Whiskey

It’s late and the Hoover building deserted. A few floors down, Scully is putting on her coat, and waiting for him. Mulder hurries through the hallways, glad to be alone here, and not roped into small talk by anyone. As much as he prefers the quiet and solitude this late hour brings, he knows that Scully doesn’t.

While she may not want a boring 9-to-5 job either, she’d like to spend an evening or two at home. Alone, probably. Or with a friend. Maybe even someone who is more than a friend. His thoughts are faster than his legs and he has to shake it off. To him, spending time with her is the highlight of his day. Any day. Monday to Friday, Saturday and Sunday. To her? He hasn’t asked. Is afraid to find out.

Now all he has to do is drop off this report and then they’re off. Part of him is hoping that he’ll find a case that will keep them busy this weekend. While Scully is probably hoping for the opposite. That thought makes him smile. He lifts his hand to knock on Skinner’s door before he remembers that it’s after hours and his secretary will have left hours ago. Same as Skinner.

He walks into the outer office, intending to put it on Kimberly’s desk. But then he sees that the door to Skinner’s personal office is ajar. There’s dim light coming from within. He peeks through the gap and sees his boss sitting at his desk, a bottle of dark liquid in front of him.

“Sir?” he asks, knocking softly on the door.

“Mulder? What the fuck are you still doing here?” The swear makes Mulder wince. He’s never heard Skinner curse like that.

“Dropping off our latest report. We, um… it took a while longer. I wanted it to be on your desk first thing in the morning.”

“Scully made you do it, huh?” His boss is grinning, but it’s askew. Mulder glances at the bottle – whiskey, from what he can tell – and sees it’s more than half empty. There’s only one explanation: his boss is drunk.

“We wrote it together, sir.”

“Sure, sure. Hand it over.” Skinner takes another gulp from his glass and as Mulder walks closer, he smells the alcohol. It’s making him dizzy.

“Are you all right, Skinner?” he asks once he’s standing close. The other man’s eyes are disoriented, his pupils dilated.

“Never been better. Ever have your heart broken, Agent Mulder?”

“I, well-”

“No, of course not,” Skinner goes on, ignoring him. “Someone like you probably breaks hearts.” He’s not going to correct his boss, even though he’s completely wrong. Mulder thinks about Phoebe, about Diana. His heart has been broken repeatedly. Right now, though, it’s not what Skinner wants to hear.

“Do you want me to call anyone?”

“Who would you call?” Skinner narrows his eyes. “There’s no one. No kids. No wife anymore either. I’m alone, Agent Mulder. Alone. Take my advice.” He crooks his finger, motioning for Mulder to come closer. He does so reluctantly and he’s too slow. As soon as he’s in reach, Skinner grabs his tie, drawing him close. His breath reeks of whiskey as he speaks.

“Don’t fuck it up with Agent Scully. She’s the jackpot, Mulder. You probably don’t deserve her, so if you fuck it up, I will find you and I will hurt you. You hear me?” Mulder gulps and nods.

“Sir, um, Agent Scully and I aren’t-”

“Oh shut it, Mulder. Who are you kidding here? I see you two together. I know you try to be discreet but honestly, why would I care? You do what you want in your time off. Hell, you do what you want anyway. All your case files are proof of that.” He pats the finished report Mulder has just dropped off at his desk.

“Thank you, sir,” he says lamely, not knowing what else to say. Explaining his complicated relationship with Scully would take hours, and right now, in his state, Skinner wouldn’t understand. Mulder barely understands it himself and he’s stone-cold sober.

“Where is she, anyway? You two are attached at the hips. She leave without you? You let her leave?” Skinner’s voice is getting louder and more agitated. Mulder wishes Scully had come up with him because he’s at his wit’s end.

“She’s downstairs. I told her I’d drop this off and be right back down.”

“Then go, Mulder. Before she finds someone better. They always do.” Skinner sighs, bringing his glass to his lips, only to realize it’s empty. Instead of pouring himself another glass, he grabs the bottle and takes a huge swig.

“Sir, I think maybe you’ve had enough.”

“You’re not my father, Agent Mulder. Hell, I could be your father. Go to your room!” He laughs and Mulder uses the moment to snatch the whiskey bottle out of his hand. “Now, Agent Mulder, you give that back.”

“Sorry, sir. This is for your own good. You can have it back tomorrow.”

“Mulder, that bottle of whiskey is my only friend.”

“That’s not true. Scully and I are your friends. You have plenty of friends.” Mulder isn’t sure that’s the truth, but he doesn’t know anything about Skinner’s personal life.

“I don’t. My wife took them in the divorce. She took everything. My heart, too. Mulder, you treat Scully better than that, okay? You hear me? You don’t let a woman like Scully get away. Promise me.”

“I promise,” he says.

“Mulder, are -” Scully walks into the office and both Mulder and Skinner turn to her.

“Speak of the devil,” Skinner slurs. “Or rather, angel.” He laughs again. Mulder throws Scully a helpless look, hoping she understands. And she does.

“Sir, I think- we should call you a cab.” Scully is by Skinner’s side in an instant and he looks up at her like a puppy.

“You’re too good for him. But you love him. Can’t do anything about that.” She turns to Mulder, her eyes asking him what all of that is about. He just shrugs. They have bigger problems at the moment.

“Who can we call, sir?” Scully asks.

“There’s no one, Agent Scully. No one. Just my bottle and Mulder took it from me.”

“We’ll call you a cab and we’ll- we’ll make sure you’re okay.”

“Gotta use the bathroom,” Skinner says. He gets up from his chair and stumbles. Scully tries to keep him upright but Skinner is heavy. Mulder helps her and together they manage to get him to the bathroom. They exchange a look, wondering if they should let him do this on his own. Ultimately, they decide to wait in front of the bathroom, trying to give their boss some dignity.

“What happened here?” Scully asks quietly.

“He was like this when I got here,” Mulder says. “I think he’s sad. I think someone broke his heart.”

“Poor Skinner. We can’t leave him alone, Mulder. Someone has to stay with him. We can’t just drop him off at a hospital. What will people think?” He nods, knowing she’s right.

“He can sleep it off at my place.”

“I’ll stay with you.” His eyes grow big. “Unless you don’t-”

“Oh, I do,” he says softly, touching her arm. “I don’t want to deal with him alone. And I always want you around, Scully.” She smiles at him. “Just so you know… Skinner thinks we’re dating and you coming with me will not defuse the situation.”

“What did you say to him?”

“Nothing. He said I shouldn’t fuck it up between us and when I tried to tell him that we aren’t dating, he didn’t believe me. Not that it matters, but he doesn’t mind.” He can’t quite suppress his grin.

“Oh, did I interrupt you two?” Skinner staggers out of the bathroom, a dopey smile on his face.

“You didn’t interrupt anything. Come on, sir,” Scully says, taking charge. She flanks him and nods at Mulder so he’ll do the same. The three of them are an odd pair as they make it through the Hoover hallways, but at least there’s no one here to see the A.D. like this. His secret will remain safe with them.

“Where are we going?” he asks as they get into the elevator.

“Home,” Mulder says. “You’re staying with me and Scully tonight.”

“Knew you two lived together. Could never prove it, but I knew it.” He taps his heart and then his forehead. “Sometimes you just know. You better invite me to your wedding, though.”

“Sir, we-”

“No, Scully, not you too. I already told Mulder it’s fine. It’s so fine. You two do you.” He giggles like a schoolboy and can’t stop. “You know what I mean.”

“This is going to be a long night,” Mulder mumbles, and Scully nods. Skinner, completely unaware of anything that's going on, just laughs.

#fictober23 #i had so much fun writing this omg #this idea just came to me this morning and who am i to question the muse #msr #xf fanfic #my writing #my fic

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respectthepetty · 11 months ago

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Pit Babe Colors Ep. 7

I'm challenging myself with this show and seeing how good my color skills really are, so I'm doing my normal thing of watching it double-speed on mute, but now, the captions are off also. It's just colors and vibes here.

If I see this necklace on Charles later, *dragging finger across throat*

There is a barrier between y'all, so I'm hoping one of you has decided to come to your senses and tell the truth to Alan and Babe. Jeffrey is seeing accidents, so Jeffrey, hopefully you are seeing the light of truth too and will confess to Alan!

I like you, Way. I like you too much knowing damn well that you are lying, but you don't seem as red as before. It looks a little hot pink-ish now. Maybe because you're sad that Babe doesn't love you.

Get hit with the blinding light of love for this Blue Boy sitting next to you who has apparently been in love with you for years according to that pink from the last episode.

Peter, I TRUST YOU! Don't do me like this! This is pink, right? RIGHT? It's pink. You're in love with Waymond, and this is pink, not red. Pink.

I'm ignoring the Gucci red watchband because the way Peter is looking at Waymond and the fact that he put blue on Waymond is all I need to know that Peter sits at the same table with Kimberly, Kenta, and Alan as the people I trust.

How long have you been in love with him, Pete? The pink already snitched on you. Just tell me! Or did you leave it on the note? That'd be too easy. But that note better have said "Hey, I just 'met' you, and this is crazy, but here's my number, so call me maybe?" I ship it!

Kimberly! You've been a lot less red lately. The blues are gonna need a driver soon if Jeffrey's vision is right. You should apply!

KENTA IS RIGHT THERE, KIMBERLY! Lose focus and have a consensual workplace relationship.

Wait a minute? It's Decanus and . . . there's only one man who consistently wears black, but I refuse to believe that he would meet with Decanus. No. That's another man in black. I cannot see the faces clearly, so I will not accuse *sobs* Kenta.

These two are best friends. I can tell.

AHHHH! Charles is meeting with Big Red, yet he is wearing blue! Is he being kidnapped? No. He just walked away. But now he is surrounded by blue. Charles!!!!! I know you are lying, but the blue is saying . . . something! But Big Red is listening.

Oh thank, God! Way is turning over a new leaf and committing to being a blue boy. Good.

No. NO! Barbara, I know you are upset at Charles for lying (which your super spidey senses should have alerted you about because the red was there), but why do you keep doing this to Way? He was committed to the blue! Pete likes him. Stop!

NO, WAYMOND, NO! JUST LET BABE BE SAD AND MISERABLE. DON'T DO IT!

Tell him to get his hands off of you, Barbie! That's how they keep getting you! Do not fall for his bullshit!

Is this story about Charlie?! OH SHIT! *telenovela fall to the floor*

I don't want you to get slapped, Kentana, but there is only one man who wears black consistently, and that's you. You ARE planning something with Decanus, aren't you?! Do. Not. Hurt. Barbie. I trust you!

Oh shit! Barbie is realizing it's the touches! I tried to warn you, homie. I did. I said, "Barbie, don't let them touch you!" Now, figure out that Waymond keeps touching you too. Don't get dickmatized again. I need you to stay focused! BARBIE, FOCUS! Waymond. Superpowers. Punch them!

Barbara, the dick is not that good for you to forgive him already! Barbara, I'm so mad at you right now. I'm only rooting for Kimberly and Alan now. You and Kentana are on my shit list.

Did the note from Peter ask for a date?! Waymond, horrible choice of red roses with a red ribbon for a date with Peter or . . . is this your villain era? No! This is a date with Peter! *dances happily*

I mean this from the depth of my soul - Whatever happens now, you're on your own, Barbara. You figured out what Charles was doing to you, and you are just cool with it? I know he, too, had a crappy childhood, but he did all that without your consent, and you're okay with it? The red is still there! He just took from you something you can't get back, without your consent. This is metaphorical, and I wish you, a fictional character, could see that.

Did Peter really not show up for y'alls date?! Did something happen to Pete?! WHERE IS HE?! Did Big Red kidnap him?! Wait, Peter can text but not show up for a date? I don't believe it.

I'm gonna break my own rule, and translate the text messages because I have no colors to guide me, and I'm very confused why Peter would not show up when he has been in love with Waymond for awhile. The colors don't lie. Peter would show up!

Google Translate: "Sorry, I just finished clearing things up with Charlie" Wait a minute. Charlie? Was Waymond texting Babe because he was sad Peter didn't show up for dinner? This still doesn't make sense.

Or . . . Waymond's at his and Babe's restaurant, and Babe said "sorry." It wasn't a date with Peter was it? This was a date with . . . oh, you have to be shitting me. PETER IS RIGHT THERE IN LOVE WITH YOU, PENDEJO!

I'm in no mood for North and Sonic's color shenanigans. I'm too pissed off to even yell at Sonic for wearing red over the blue. Whatever. Be a back-stabber too. No me importa.

WHAT THE FUCK?! NOT KIMBERLY!

If anything happens to Kimberly, I'm burning down this whole site! He's a good one! Kentana, you better get your shit together and save your man! If Kentana and Barbara save Kimberly, I'll take them off my shit list. Even Charles will get some leeway.

Whiny Winifred, why are you pointing a gun at . . . SONIC AND NORTH?! I know I wrote I didn't care about y'all earlier, but I do! Y'all can't die until I figure out what the deal is with y'alls colors!

Barbara is wearing the same outfit in the previews that he is wearing when he punches people in the hallway!

Mission: Save Kim Possible!

#Kimberly better be alive #pit babe #pit babe the series #the colors mean things #and they will guide me the whole way through #color coded boys in love #episode 7 #I'm so upset #I'm upset for Way #I'm upset AT Way #I'm livid AT Babe #but all I care about right now is Kimberly!#SAVE HIM!

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mariacallous · 5 months ago

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Anna Kai believes in self-gaslighting. On TikTok, as @itsmaybeboth, she markets beauty products for Garnier, Nivea, and Nexxus Hair Care while dispensing relationship advice to her 1.3 million followers. “If you can gaslight yourself into believing the man that doesn’t love you actually loves you, then why can’t you gaslight yourself into believing you will find a man who actually does?”

For Blaine Anderson, finding the right partner is all about savvy marketing, which “great guys often SUCK at,” a note on her website exclaims. She has hacks for every possible scenario that can, and will, arise during the dating process: how to text like a “high-value man,” what first-date mistakes to avoid, how to make women obsessed, and the best ways to attract them without talking. In case you were curious, it starts with good posture and grooming. “If you haven’t been shopping since the Obama administration, it’s time,” she says in a video uploaded to TikTok in May.

“As a relationship therapist, I’ve literally spent my career studying the art of attraction and human psychology, so I know that these things work,” Kimberly Moffit, a Toronto-based psychotherapist, said in a TikTok video from 2022. Maybe your crush is shy and you want to know if he is “micro-flirting” with you? One tell-tale sign: dirty jokes. “An aggressive guy is just gonna hit on you,” she said, “but a shy guy is really gonna test the waters first.”

If you haven’t heard, it’s boom times for dating influencers. According to a new survey of single adults aged 18 to 62 conducted by the app Flirtini, one in four people rely on TikTok as their primary source of relationship information, and almost 50 percent of people surveyed turn to social media for dating advice.

This phenomenon has created an ecosystem of thoughtful, overzealous, trend-chasing dating influencers who think they know what’s best for you. The marketplace is now overrun with gurus offering up romantic hacks and how-tos to anyone who will listen. Everyone from credentialed therapists and life coaches to that annoying friend who just discovered bell hooks’ All About Love and wants to share everything they learned brands themselves a dating influencer these days. The effect has been seismic. On TikTok, the hashtags #datingadvice and #relationshipadvice have upwards of 16 billion views.

And it’s not all bad advice per se. Kai’s self-gaslighting tip is actually quite clever. (Kai and the other influencers mentioned in this story did not respond to messages seeking comment.) There’s just one problem: Relationship misinformation is spreading fast.

A growing number of young adults now get their news from TikTok, according to a 2023 Pew Research Center study, “so it makes sense that they’d turn to the app for relationship advice too,” says Liesel Sharabi, a professor at Arizona State University who specializes in the effect technology has on interpersonal relationships. The increased reliance on the platform as a go-to source for romantic guidance has led many users to form parasocial relationships with advice-giving influencers. Unlike face-to-face, IRL relationships, these tend to be one-way. But emotionally, they feel like the real thing.

“Someone might feel like they’re getting dating advice from a trusted friend because they’ve developed such a strong sense of familiarity and connection with that person,” Sharabi says. “The problem is that when it comes to dating, there are plenty of people who call themselves experts on TikTok without any sort of training or qualifications, which can make it difficult to separate fact from opinion.”

Not all advice is created equal. As dating influencers gain more traction across social media, the proliferation of relationship misinformation becomes harder to contain. This, Sharabi describes, is “false or misleading information about relationships that can’t be evaluated using scientific data and which may perpetuate harmful stereotypes.”

The increased spread of questionable dating advice is having real-world consequences. According to the Flirtini study, 46 percent of people faced relationship struggles after following TikTok advice, with 23 percent saying it led to a break up. It begs the question: Has our need to be plugged in all the time—let's face it, many of us are hooked on the booze of social media—outweighed our rationale as humans, leading people to look for advice from the wrong people?

“Relationship advice that is attention-grabbing may not always be the most sound or accurate to people’s actual relationship needs,” says Aparajita Bhandari, an academic at the University of Waterloo who’s conducted research on TikTok. “The way our current online attention economy works breeds content that is outrageous or tends toward misinformation because it is what goes viral and gets views. Unhealthy ideas or advice can spread so quickly on a platform like TikTok that it can be difficult to even trace back to one specific source.”

For some dating influencers, love is not actually the endgame—status and comfort are. There is a dedicated core of influencers who can teach you how to marry rich, live comfortably, and never work again. For them, it is all about “high-value” dating. Love is simply the icing on the cake to a life of worry-free, jet-setting luxury.

Shera Seven is a household name among this contingent of dating influencers, beloved for her matter-of-fact approach to modern partnership. In her eyes, love is nothing more than a business transaction. “Make sure the second date is a money date. The faster you get him to spend money, the faster he attaches to you,” Seven recommended in a recent video. “You’re seeing him as a provider, a baller—and he might not even see himself that way—but now that you are perceiving him that way, he’s going to start acting that way. Drag him into your delusion.”

Influencers with large followings like Seven, Cam Donnez, and Niko of The Daddy Academy carry an impression of social authority, and therefore credibility, says Makana Chock, a communications professor at Syracuse University. But something else is also at work. More and more, TikTok is being used as a search engine in the same way many of us use Google.

“Relationships are areas where people often feel the greatest insecurities and need advice. We are sometimes, however, reluctant to turn to personal contacts for help,” Chock adds. “We may be reluctant to reveal weaknesses, concerned about close others’ conflicting motivations, or skeptical about their relationship skills.”

But relying too heavily on TikTok’s algorithm has repercussions, especially in matters of the heart. “The algorithm isn’t necessarily incentivized to recommend the most scientifically sound advice,” Sharabi says. “It’s going to prioritize content that leads to engagement in terms of likes, followers, and views. What makes something go viral on TikTok isn’t necessarily that it’s good advice—in some cases, it might even be the opposite.”

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rosewood-multifandom-writer · 5 months ago

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If I had to be honest here, we all should’ve seen M. Bison as a DLC fighter coming. So many of the signs were there.

Fang Fei trying to revive what’s left of Shadaloo with A.K.I doing most of the spying and assassinations.

Kimberly going deep in the rabbit hole of what happened to her uncle.

JP continuing to do evil dirty work for Shadaloo even though it’s supposedly dead.

Juri telling Chun-Li that it’s not completely over yet and being super vague about it.

Cammy is doing some further investigations into Shadaloo remnants.

Ed being told by JP that he’s capable of being Bison’s successor.

Ken’s life got ruined by JP.

Avatar is also diving deep into the rabbit hole of what Neo Shadaloo is up to.

The people who fought against Shadaloo have mentioned Bison plenty of times. Chun-Li mentions him both in her story and in World Tour. Same with Ed. Same with Juri. JP has also talked about JP and Bison has been seen in a few of the Masters’ memories.

There were also documents that hinted at Bison either being resurrected or cloned.

And just Neo-Shadaloo in a nutshell.

The lore and story had been building this up for a while, plus M. Bison’s been around since SFII, so it was kind of inevitable. Plus, I’m convinced Capcom knew that people were gonna have mixed reactions, mostly negative towards this, hence why M. Bison is the very first guy in the Year 2 lineup.

I’m keeping my expectations low for this just in case they mess this up, because at this point all I care about how they go about writing his character and how fun he’ll be to play.

Edit: I also forgot to mention that one side quest to get Akuma’s best gift in World Tour where you get contacted by Foo to infiltrate the Ruined Lab, so Capcom gave us one last hint that Bison was coming back. I also know absolutely nothing about SFV’s story as of right now, so I’m gonna look into it.

And apparently from what I heard from the other SF fans, this is not the first time Bison “died.” He just kept coming back, like a cockroach.

#street fighter #street fighter 6 #sf6 #ramble #rant

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sleekervae · 6 months ago

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So Good [0.7]

Masterlist

pairing: KNJ x rockstar!oc

summary: Kimberly calls Namjoon after her breakup

word count: 4,213

Purple text is Korean

Kimberly woke from an unexpected nap to find the light outside her apartment had faded into a deep indigo, the Los Angeles sky nearly starless. The bedside lamp still glowed faintly, its yellow light now too bright for her eyes. Her arm tingled, having fallen asleep beneath her, and strands of hair tangled in her lashes. She didn’t have the energy to move, so she stayed curled on her side, staring at the opposite wall through the curtain of her hair, her expression blank and a bitter taste lingering in her mouth. She hadn’t bothered to make her bed earlier, so her bare feet felt cold against the sheets, and she tucked them under the rumpled covers.

She couldn't remember when she'd fallen asleep, all she knew was the girls had come over with a bottle of wine to keep her company earlier that evening and that they'd dreamed it whilst old Billy Holiday records played, changed the sheets and threw out the things he'd left behind and didn't want. The girls offered to stay with Kimberly, and despite her insistence that she was fine, they made out a little sleeping area in her living room and curled up together, Chloe and Charlotte on the air mattress and Maria shared the bed with Kimberly.

Kimberly inhaled shakily, turning and see Maria still fast sleep behind her. She was sleeping in his spot, probably unaware of the hint of cologne that she didn't think would realistically wash out for a few months. Her head pounded in the conventional way that followed crying, though it could've been the alcohol too and she reached for the glass of water she'd placed on her bedside table, only dismayed to find she'd already drained it.

The clock beside her bed read a little past 2 a.m. Everything was quiet—too quiet. It felt like the entire city was holding its breath for her. Kimberly hated the silence, didn’t know what to do with it. For the first time, she realized there were no new thoughts left to think, and she felt a strange peace sitting on the edge of her bed, more accustomed to the emptiness than she could comprehend.

But despite the void, one thought kept circling back to her, probing at her mind over the past week. It always jolted her awake. She sighed and stood from the bed, careful not to wake Maria.

She had put it off for over a week, thinking it was the sensible thing to do, but now Kimberly couldn’t come up with a single excuse to delay it any longer. She knew she’d feel more at peace once it was over, so she picked up her phone and holed up in her bathroom. The brightness of the lights made her squint as she latched the door behind her, opened her contacts, and dialed the number. The phone’s shrill ringing made her anxious about waking the girls, her hands trembling, but Namjoon picked up after only two rings. She waited a second, hearing muffled conversation and the clearing of a throat she wasn’t sure was his at first.

“Namjoon?” she whispered, her voice scratchier and quieter than she’d realized. “Are you there?”

As soon as he heard her, Namjoon stood from the sofa he was slouched against in the shared living room. There was a hint of discomfort in her tone, and he felt the tension immediately in his shoulders, his jaw tightening. He and the guys were in between bouts of filming for another Run BTS segment, and nobody would mind if he stepped out for a few minutes to make sure everything was okay.

"You alright, Kim?" he mumbled, "One sec,"

He pushed through the film crew, motioning that he'd be right back, and migrated to the large backyard. The clouds were thick under the skies and the crisp air nipped at his nose. He hadn't been expecting her call, didn't have long until he'd have to come back for filming again but at her next words and the slight crack in her voice, he couldn't deny her, couldn't leave her.

"I'm alone now..." he mumbled.

“I, erm… I need to talk to you…” she murmured, raking her hands through her hair, trying to calm herself as she settled on the floor beside her shower. The deep tone of his voice was comforting, and it hit her just how much she needed him right now. She craved his presence, the sheer brilliance of his mind, the calm he always instilled in her. She had put off calling him because she didn’t think she could explain and didn’t want him to worry.

"I'm here," Namjoon assured her, "I'm here, but I don't got a lot of time, I'm afraid. We're doing some filming..." he lifted the phone down to check the time before holding it to his ear again, "What time is it over there?"

Kimberly pushed her lips together to stop herself from crying. Hearing him speak was overwhelming, it felt like a tight hug around the waist which squeezed too hard and winded her, filled her with rippling nostalgia, "It's just after 2am," she told him, "I'm in my bathroom,"

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah. The girls are asleep in the next room, I didn't want to wake them,"

Namjoon leant back against the wall, staring up at the greying sky over his head. He wondered if she was drunk, if she'd called him to tell something or just fancied a chat and he expected her to speak in the silence as she usually did, fill the gaps with a story or tell him something which would make him laugh but the other end of the line remained relatively quiet despite some shuffling. The silence knotted in his stomach, filled him with unease. With a shaky inhale, he couldn't wait any longer and he knew he didn't have much time to waste, "Kimberly, what's wrong?" he mumbled, scratching at the back of his neck, "Talk to me,"

There was a beat, a pause in which she closed her eyes tightly and swallowed the lump I her throat over and over, but it wouldn't disappear no matter how hard she tried.

"I broke up with Darius..."

The faint whimpered and sniffled cut through the quiet and shattered Namjoon's heart into tiny pieces, rendering him speechless, the vulnerability and shake in her voice knocking the air from his lungs. Namjoon rubbed at his forehead with the back of his hand in distress before he could find some words to offer as a response, "Oh. Oh fuck, I'm so sorry, Kimberly..." he swallowed, then he lowered his voice slightly, "Did he... what happened?"

She exhaled shakily, swallowing back her cries, He found someone else,"

Namjoon froze, though she couldn’t see his deepening scowl, the way his nose wrinkled in disdain. Anger surged through him. He had heard her cry once before, on a particularly hard day when she had planned to call him but forgot, worn out from the roughness of tour life. He had soothed her then, assuring her everything was alright, understanding firsthand how strenuous touring could be on someone’s psyche. Now, knowing she was sitting alone in her suffering, with no power to ease her pain, clouded his mind with immediate panic. He couldn’t shut out the mental image of tears rolling down her flushed cheeks, soaking into her pajamas, her delicate features scrunched in distress. The thought made him squirm. Taking a deep breath, he licked his lips, knowing he had to guide her through the conversation. He couldn’t sit back and listen to her muffled whimpers any longer.

"Hey, hey, it's okay. Just breathe. When did this happen?" he asked.

Kimberly took a deep breath, though another sobbing gasp fell from her lips. The sound made Namjoon's jaw clench and his free hand formed into a first. He opened his mouth to comfort her though somehow she found it within herself to speak again.

"I... I needed food for my fridge. So did Maria so we agreed to go shopping together..."

... Spring in Los Angeles always brought great promise, a hope for more prosperity, success, happiness and beauty that coexisted with the continual bustling of city life. Catch the Caper were back in the US just for a couple weeks before they'd take off for Asia, they were grateful for the bit of time they got to spend with their friends and family.

One downside Kimberly faced was her fridge being empty -- almost constantly. She usually cleared it out before leaving, God forbidding she came home to something that went bad and she certainly wouldn't be in the mood to clean that up. So she called up Maria and they decided to hit the supermarket.

Kimberly's fridge had a perpetual emptiness that mirrored her hectic lifestyle. She always cleared it out before leaving, fearing the inevitable stench of spoiled food upon her return—a mess she had no patience for. So, she called Maria, and they decided to venture to the supermarket together.

As they wandered through the brightly lit aisles, Kimberly's eyes widened at the inflated prices. The once affordable treats of her teenage years now felt like exclusive luxuries.

Maria sighed dramatically, holding up a small container of strawberries. "These better serenade me for what they cost now," she muttered, shaking her head.

Kimberly laughed at her friend’s theatrics, "Maybe we should start a garden and grow our own. We could sell the extras and make a fortune," she joked.

Maria rolled her eyes. "Oh sure, that'll be our next mercy launch. Catch The Caper Jarred Capers! Or... something. There's a better pun in there somewhere,"

They continued down the aisle, filling their cart with essentials and a few indulgences. Reaching for a box of her favorite cereal on the top shelf, Kimberly froze. At the end of the aisle stood Darius, his back turned, but she recognized the jacket she had gifted him. Her heart plummeted, a stone sinking in a sea of emotion.

“What’s up, Kimmy?” Maria’s voice broke through her thoughts. She followed Kimberly's gaze and saw him. Anger flashed across Maria's face as she clenched her fists, ready to march over. "Oh no. Absolutely not!” But Kimberly’s hand shot out, gripping Maria’s arm.

Kimberly couldn’t move. She was rooted to the spot, eyes locked on Darius, who was laughing at something the woman beside him said. His eyes crinkled at the corners—an expression that used to make Kimberly melt. Now, it filled her with a bitter mix of betrayal and heartache. A lump formed in her throat, threatening to choke her as they walked closer, oblivious to her presence.

Maria’s anger softened into empathy as she saw the devastation in Kimberly’s eyes. She wrapped an arm around Kimberly's shoulders, offering silent support as they stood there, watching the man who had once held Kimberly's heart so tenderly.

As Darius and the woman passed by, he looked up and locked eyes with Kimberly. For a moment, time stood still. They stared at each other, a silent conversation in that fleeting instant.

Then, without a word, Darius tore his gaze away, continuing to walk. The woman beside him glanced curiously back at Kimberly and Maria. Kimberly felt a rush of conflicting emotions—hurt, anger, sadness—swirling inside her like a storm. But amidst the chaos, a spark of determination flickered to life.

As Darius and the woman disappeared around the corner, Kimberly found her voice, though it was hoarse and shaky. "Let's go," she whispered, her tone final and resolute.

Maria nodded, understanding the silent command. She gently yet firmly took Kimberly's hand, guiding her away from the aisle where past and present had collided.

Outside, under the fluorescent lights, Kimberly stopped. She turned to Maria, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears but also with newfound strength. "Thank you," she said softly, her voice steadier now.

Maria enveloped her in a tight hug, offering unwavering support without needing to say a word...

"... I put all his stuff into boxes and I told him to come and get it, and that I never wanted to see him again," she chuckled pitifully, "I don't know how I could've been so stupid. He wasn't calling me as often, he was so distant, the signs were right in front of me..."

"You're not stupid," Namjoon assured, "You have every right to be upset, he broke your trust,"

Namjoon remembered calling her the day before the break up, he couldn't remember what they were chatting about but he could still hear the sound of her delightful laugh in his ears. The contrast now, the absolute devastation in her voice was such a heartbreaking realization. How long had she noticed Darius' distance, how long was she keeping it bottled to herself? And why was it so unfair that they were on opposite sides of the world, so far he couldn't hold her and assure her that she was going to be alright.

"And then you know... while I was packing his stuff up I started thinking about my future. And it hit me that I never could picture our life together -- ever. Marriage, owning a house, doing chores together and raising kids. That never crossed my mind with him. I don't know if it makes sense, but I think I knew deep down that he wasn't the once,"

"Oh, Kim... don't worry, I understand what you mean," Namjoon sighed, running a hand through his hair, "I'm just so sorry. I had no idea any of this was happening,"

"How could you?" she croaked back.

Three more weeks, Namjoon had three more weeks before he could see her in person, hold her properly. He knew she was even more excited than he was, just as enthused from the demos he'd played for her, had already hinted at his favorite songs he'd hear at her band's show. They talked practically every day together, via voice or just by text, and yet Namjoon realized he still didn't know everything about her, didn't have access to her the way her friends did. He never could've know how she was suffering.

"It's all gonna' work out. You're gonna be just fine," he drawled, conscious of how much of a cliché he sounded like, "I know it's not easy right now, Kim, and you're going through fucking hell but I know how tough you are. You're gonna be alright,"

"It's just..." Kimberly sniffled, pushing her hair out from her eyes again, her fingers tangled in the tight curls. Her mind was working in overdrive now that she was someone new to unload it onto, suddenly every repressed thought and question resurfaced, bubbling from her lips like mad, "I can't even believe how a person can be so callous, how you can spend a year with someone and suddenly look right through them. Like they don't even know you. I don't know how anybody could do that,"

"No sane, rational, normal human being would," he told her, "You deserve so much better,"

"I know I've made the right decision," she said, pulling her knees to her chest, "I just feel so lost, Joon,"

"Kimberly, please believe me, you have every fucking right to feel like shit. You have every right to let grief do its thing. But you can't let it consume you," he said, "And you might feel this way for a while, but I'm telling you one day soon it's all gonna' be bright again. You're going to go back to being your incredible self, and you'll be a little wiser, a little more gracious for yourself,"

Kimberly tittered, cradling her phone to her ear with a little laugh while made Namjoon's heart momentarily stop, "Joon --"

"You trust me, don't you?" he asked, hoping she didn't mind his interruption.

"More than anything," she whispered back, listening to the rhythm of his heavy breathing to ease hers. She pictured his face, that sweet, uncontrollable smirk that pulled into his lips, the twitch at the corners of his mouth.

"Then trust me now," he drawled into the phone, his voice confident, "Sometimes your life has to fall apart so you can move forward --"

Before he could finish, Namjoon was cut off by a producer banging on the window behind him, waving at him to come back inside. Namjoon gave him a thumbs up back, sighing in exasperation as he brought his lips close to the phone speaker again.

"Kimberly... I've got to go... I'm sorry," he sighed, raking a hand through his preened hair, "I wish I didn't have to, I'd love to stay with you and talk more --"

"It's okay, Namjoon," she assured him, "I don't want you to be in trouble because of me,"

"Even if you could get me in trouble, it would all be worth it," he assured her, sauntering back towards the door.

Her breathing was more even now and she was no longer crying so he figured he'd achieved something at least. He hadn't made it worse, but it didn't make leaving her any easier, didn't make the thought of her sitting alone seem less detrimental. He knew for a fact he would struggle to focus on the shoot, would worry about her, overthinking the situation beyond any logic.

"Thank you for talking to me," she whispered, her chest warming as he spoke back to her. She shuffled to stand up, taking a glance at herself in the mirror quickly. Her eyes were still so puffy from crying, her skin felt so dry from lack of care.

"Despite the circumstance... it's always a pleasure talking to you," he mumbled, chewing on the inside of his cheek. He swallowed hard then lowered his voice, speaking softly, "You know I care about you, Kimberly..."

"I do,"

“I’ll see you in three weeks, and I’ll show you the best time,” he promised. “We’re going to go to all the best spots in Seoul.” He heard Kimberly hum appreciatively, wondering if she was tired now, if he’d settled her enough that she’d crawl under the covers and fall asleep. He thought it best not to ask, knowing it would stay with him if he knew she was still awake and distressed. “Let’s talk tomorrow, okay? Just give me a call and I’ll pick up, no matter what time it is.”

"I'm looking forward to it already," she smiled. Her eyes felt heavy, aware that once the tone of the call ended she'd fall fast asleep.

She'd known the moment after she kicked Darius out, Namjoon had been the first person she wanted to speak to. Before her friends, before her mom, Namjoon had been her first thought to gather some rationality and now with the wave of drowsiness that hit her, she knew why. He calmed her down so well, she was shocked considering how she was crying only moments ago. It had taken only his voice, the endearing nature of his loyalty to her to relax her enough.

"Get some rest, please," he told her.

"I will. Have a good shoot, Joon..."

"Take care of yourself, Kim. Goodnight,"

"Goodnight," he waited for her to hang up the call before pocketing his phone, couldn't bring himself to leave first and the nose made him jump despite her wishing him well.

Namjoon could see in his own reflection that he felt crushed, sucked in his cheekbones and ran his hand over his face to snap him out of the daze. Hearing and knowing Kimberly was so hurt pained him, had made his entire body rigid with tension and he rolled his shoulders back to ease the build up, consciously tried to unlock his jaw but he was still on edge. He was painfully aware that he wagons the opposite side of the world and that he had so many commitments to meet, but more than anything he wanted to be there for her. She was a priority to him whether she liked it or not.

Stepping back into the house, his next revelation dawned on him. He hadn't thought about it when she was with Darius, would have never admitted it to anyone who asked him, let alone himself, but he now realized that he'd always been subconsciously waiting for her on some level. Now, he couldn't swallow back that pinch of excitement and hope, felt selfish for it but couldn't ignore that despite the fact he was miles away from her, there was a crack of possibility in what was once an overwhelmingly impenetrable wall, one he didn't know that he'd been waiting for appear.

Now, if only he could get past his management...

The boys were cloistered in the living room still, talking amongst themselves while waiting for the film crew to get set up again. Namjoon couldn't even think twice, he approached Jin from behind and tugged on his sleeve.

"I need to talk to you," he drawled quickly.

Jin glanced him, figuring he was joking at first as he looked around the room, "We're gonna' film again, can it wait?"

"No," he pulled on his shoulder this time, "C'mere,"

Despite his reservations and the time constraints they were under, Jin got up and followed Namjoon out to the next room. The other boys watched curiously, but Namjoon waved them off with a reassuring smile. Jin hesitated at the threshold, the air inside heavy with a sense of foreboding. As he stepped into the room, his curiosity grew as Namjoon immediately slammed and locked the door behind them.

"What's the matter with you?" Jin asked, "Who were you on the phone with?"

"Kimberly," Namjoon replied simply.

Jin rolled his eyes, shaking his head, "Oh, this ought to be good,"

"Kimberly and Darius broke up," Namjoon snapped, worried Jin wasn't taking him seriously, "They're done,"

Jin raised his eyebrows, "Wow. What happened? Is she okay?"

Namjoon began to pace up and down the room, "She's devastated, he's been cheating on her while she was away. Fucking prick..."

Jin cleared his throat, his own inhibitions and worries settling in for his friend, "And... how do you feel?"

"Why does that even matter?" Namjoon huffed.

"Because you dragged me into the office out of the blue and you're pacing like a mad man," Jin pointed out, "Would you calm down, please?"

"Well... I feel terrible for her!" he replied, turning on his heel and pacing to the opposite end of the room, "What kind of selfish bastard... and it's Kimberly! She's the kindest person in the world! Even if I wanted to swoop in and help her, even on the level of friendship, I'm a million fucking miles away --"

"Hey! You could write a great song about that..." Jin smirked.

"I'm being serious, Jin," Namjoon took a deep breath, "I just... I need some advice right now..."

"The way I see it..." Jin began, "You've got a shot. That is until you're able to wait until 2023," he pointed out.

Namjoon rolled his eyes, "Oh, fuck,"

"You know the rules!" Jin pointed out.

"Of course I know the rules!" Namjoon replied.

"Then you shouldn't even be bothered about this!" Jin sat down in the rolly chair, swinging his legs back and forth to drawl over the floor, "That being said -- you've got three weeks until the girls come. You could shoot your shot, but again three weeks isn't a long time. You don't want to come on too strong, it's disrespectful. And unless you're fucking magical and somehow can convince our bosses to let us date within that time span, then you're only going to hurt her more. Do you want to do that to her?"

Namjoon understood where Jin was coming from; he had told himself the same thing countless times, playing out scenarios in his head. The extent to which he had overthought the news was almost embarrassing, but Kimberly’s happiness was what mattered most. If a year from now she was still single and didn’t want him, he’d have to force himself to accept it.

But there was an undeniable elation bubbling inside him, a frenzy of flash-forwards of what could be if the chance ever came about. If his management became just a little more lenient. He hadn’t anticipated the opportunity that now presented itself, but he couldn’t help the optimism that filled him.

"Jin," Namjoon mumbled, rubbing his temple, "I still feel something for her... I don't think it's going to go away,"

There was suddenly a pounding on the door behind him, "Guys!" Taehyung called, "Production manager's threatening to bust down the door unless you guys come out!"

"We're coming! We're coming!" Namjoon called back, then he turned back to Jin, "We can keep this between us for now, right?"

"Do I even have a choice?" Jin scoffed back, "You're clearly besotted with her, you have been since you found out she had your flower tattooed on her," he continued, "But I'm warning you -- if you want to protect yourself and her, you gotta' be smart about how you go about this. And you gotta' ask yourself if Kimberly is worth your career..."

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