#but hang ten ill get replies done when i can

[0310s]

gently, by your side | jaehyun

members: myung jaehyun x gender neutral reader

genre: college au, angst, comfort, best friends! to ???, more platonic stuff in this one

tags/warnings: extensive discussions of mental health and chronic/mental illness, y/n is not okay. :(

summary: jaehyun finds you after a bad week.

wc: 2.7k

a/n: this fic’s title comes from this lovely song. as someone who’s struggled with both chronic and mental illness, it really takes someone strong and amazing to keep on going, despite everything. most of the dialogue in this comes from my own musings and experiences with mental health. i wrote this for a dear mutual of mine! i hope better days will come for you soon, whenever that may be. meanwhile, i hope this gives you comfort when things are tough! sending lots of love <3 

𓉞⋆｡˚☁︎｡⋆

5 days ago 1:28 PM 🐶 cutie puppy

(y/n) we haven’t seen each other in such a loooong time imy :(( i mean i KNOW it’s just been a couple of days since we last hung out but still!!!!!!! when are we seeing each other again !!!! tell me ur schedule QUICK !!!!

4 days ago 6:33 PM 🐶 cutie puppy

heeeeyyyyyyyyy (with the intention to hang out) heeeeeeyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy heeeeeeeeeeeeyyyyyyy reply to meeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!!!!! tell me when ur free pls i miss u :((

3 days ago 11:58 PM 🐶 cutie puppy

hey i didn’t see u at the party today i thought u said u were going last week!!!  also i asked around and people said they haven’t seen u around recently??? and they don’t know what ur up to

2 days ago 2:05 PM 🐶 cutie puppy

heeeyyyy ?????????? did i do smth?????  or are u just really busy w school and work idk either way pls just let me know :(( i won’t bother u if ur rlllyyy busy

10:35 PM sorry if i’m being annoying btw

Yesterday  11:32 PM 🐶 cutie puppy

ok i thought about it reaaaaaallly hard and i don’t think i’ve done anything to make u mad or upset w me??? well aside from that time last last week that u got mad at me for accidentally messing w ur computer and deleting ur work files WHICH IM LIKE REALLY SORRY FOR but i fixed it!!!!! i thought we were good alrd!!! are u still mad at me 4 that ?

1:00 AM (y/n)?

1:28 AM idk  i thought i was ur best friend :(( did smth change???

2:47 AM pls pls reply :(( i know we can talk this out i don’t want us to not be ok

Today  3:00 PM 🐶 cutie puppy i’m coming over.

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Sitting up from your bed, your heart thuds in anxiety as you quickly scroll through your chat history with Jaehyun. Your eyes hurt and your brain feels especially foggy, like you’re looking at the world through a particularly cloudy lens. How long did you sleep? The last thing you recall was working on your assignments last night, then choosing to sleep instead when you got overwhelmed. Even then, you slept fitfully. You remember setting an alarm at 9 AM today to continue working, but even as you sat at your desk, you couldn’t type a single sentence on your laptop. Everything felt muddled and it was as if you couldn’t understand anything at all. Even the cups of coffee you drank in desperation was of no use keeping you alert; all it did was make you palpitate.

Then you gave up, went back to bed, and you’re here now. Checking the chat timestamps, you realize you haven’t replied to Jaehyun’s messages in almost a week, which has never happened before—you talk almost everyday, even multiple times a day. Jaehyun’s last message was at 3 PM, when he said he’d come over. One look at your screen shows you it’s already 3:20. If you’ve memorized his schedule right, it takes your best friend thirty minutes to get to your dorm from his Fundamental Maths class. That means you have ten more minutes to get your shit together and clean your mess of a room. 

But right when you’ve mustered the energy to stand up, you hear a series of knocks on your door. That can’t be— “(Y/n), open up, I know you’re in there!” Jaehyun’s voice echoes from outside the door. “I asked your dormmate and she said you haven’t left your room since yesterday, so there’s no use pretending!” Shit, shit, shit! You immediately spring up and hastily fold your blankets and organize your desk, throwing away stray food wrappers and plastic cups. You open your blinds to let some air in, and the bright sunlight makes your head throb even more. 

On your way to the door, you spot yourself in the mirror. There’s no other word for it—you look like utter shit. Your eyebags are dark and prominent, your hair disheveled from tossing and turning in your sleep. You look horrendous, but Jaehyun is persistently knocking on your door, so you have no choice but to fix yourself up as fast as you can. You splash water on your face and smoothen down your hair and open the door—then there’s Jaehyun in all his glory. Your heart clenches seeing him; he looks as handsome as always, his bangs fluffy and soft and his letterman jacket fashionably oversized. He looks nothing like you in your ratty T-shirt with coffee stains and pajama shorts. His hand is halfway raised, positioned to knock at your door (he could and would probably do it all day if he had to). Upon seeing you, he blurts out: “Did I do something?”

Instead of answering him, you open your door wider as an invitation, and Jaehyun takes the hint, stepping into your dorm. Once the door is shut, Jaehyun peers at your messy room and remarks, “Wow. When was the last time you cleaned up? You’re usually not like this.”

You know he didn’t mean it like that, but his comment stings at you all the same. “Sorry, Jaehyun,” you snap, “not everyone can be at 200% energy all the time like you.” At his hurt expression, you backtrack. “Sorry, that was really rude of me.”

“It-It’s fine,” Jaehyun replies confusedly. Then he looks straight at you, eyes pleading. He’s picking at the stray thread hanging from his jacket, a habit you’ve come to known is something he does when he’s nervous. “You know what, I thought about it. For days, really, if I did anything that would make you mad and ignore me. But I couldn’t come up with anything at all. I was really worried when you didn’t reply to me for days on end, especially when we talk everyday. So if I did something, can—can you just tell me? I just want us to be okay.”

Your throat closes up and your heart pounds even faster, making you feel dizzy. You have no idea how to answer him, when all he’s ever seen of you is the perfect student who does everything right, who’s smart and good at what they do without any flaws or exceptions. How would he react if he saw you for who you really were?

The words can’t form in your mouth, and out of frustration at yourself, you tear up. Jaehyun notices this, eyes widening in worry, “(y/n), baby, no, no,” and pulls you into his arms. Almost instantly, the tears cascade down your face and sobs wrack your body. You feel pathetic crying in your best friend’s arms, but Jaehyun just soothes a hand up and down your back as you break down. His other arm is wrapped around your shoulders, and it feels like your anchor when you’re drowning in all your troubles. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” he says in a hushed tone, “let it all out.” You grip his jacket even tighter as you bury your face in his chest. 

When was the last time you’ve ever been hugged like this? The last time you’ve ever been truly vulnerable to anyone without that mask of perfection you often don? The last time you felt safe just being yourself? You have no idea. All you know that is in the circle of Jaehyun’s arms, you want to be small and imperfect and yourself just this once.

After your cries die down, Jaehyun clears his throat. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I don’t know what it is I did, but I’m so sorry for hurting you.”

“It’s not you, Jaehyun,” your voice is muffled by both your sniffles and Jaehyun’s chest. You don’t want Jaehyun to get the wrong idea that he’s hurt you in some way because of how broken he sounds thinking he’s done something to make you sad. “It’s just. Me.”

“You? What do you mean?” Jaehyun leads you into your room from the doorway. He’s holding your hand and doesn’t let go even when you both settle at the edge of your bed. His palm is warm and his grip loose enough in case you want to let go; you don’t. While you muster up the courage to speak, your best friend just sits there, waiting patiently. “It’s okay, whatever you say, I’m not going anywhere.” You don’t know that for sure, but him saying that makes you want to be truthful just this once, damn the consequences.

You take a deep breath, focusing on your intertwined fingers. You’re too scared to look at his face because you don’t want to see his reaction. “Jaehyun, what kind of person do you think people see me as?”

“Well…” He takes a moment to think about it. “Someone smart, talented, and who gets stuff done?”

In turn, you let out an resigned exhale. “Well, that’s the image I project. Of someone who’s perfect… someone who does things effortlessly. People think it comes easy to me. But it doesn’t. When people tell me that I didn’t need much effort to get to where I am now, I feel undermined. When I express I’m having a hard time, people brush it off and think I’m just overreacting. Because they think I’m perfect all the time. But honestly…? That’s the farthest thing from the truth."

Glancing up from your hands, you scan your room—your desk is a mess of papers and assignments that you have yet to get to. You can’t tell when the last time you spent time being actually productive when what you’ve been is fatigued out of your mind. When you try to sit at your desk and work, all you feel is difficulty concentrating and processing work and readings. Sleep has also proven to be elusive—no matter how long you lie in bed, you never feel well-rested. Simple actions and decisions require so much energy from you that you undeniably lack. You also constantly compare yourself to others, whom things like these come natural to them. But you’ve kept these feelings of yours secret for a long time—you’re utterly terrified that you’d be undermined for being useless and overly sensitive.   

“(Y/n)?” Jaehyun squeezes your hand, and you turn to meet his eyes. His eyes are sincere and kind. “I-I know I may not be the most empathic person, but I promise I’ll hear you out without judging you. I want to be here for you… and I hope you’ll let me. Please?” 

At this, you spill everything you’ve been feeling the past weeks—months, even—to Jaehyun. You stumble over your words and your breath gets caught in your throat, but he’s there to pat your back and to encourage you to keep going. Without you knowing, tears make their way down your face once again, and Jaehyun uses his other hand to gently brush them away. “It just gets so hard that I want to just. Give everything up. I don’t know what the use of trying so hard is when I see how other people don’t need this much effort to do even the most basic of tasks. It’s just so… unfair.”

When you’re finished with your rant, you don’t know what to expect from Jaehyun—but you’re stunned to see him crying. He’s sniffling and wiping at his eyes furiously. “Why…” You have no idea what he’s about to say, but you brace yourself for the worst. “Why didn’t you tell me any of this?” he whispers brokenly. “I didn’t know you were having such a difficult time. I feel like such a shitty friend for not even noticing. I’m sorry, (y/n).” Jaehyun’s eyes fill with tears and he starts “I… I thought we were best friends.” The best friends tell each other everything goes unsaid, but you know exactly what he meant.

“I…” You feel awful now for making Jaehyun cry. “You’re just. You just naturally have all this limitless energy. You’re…” Normal. Not like me. “I don’t know how if you were going to take me seriously if I told you what I was going through… There were times I’d see you, and I’d be so disappointed in myself for not being like you. And I was so scared that if I did tell you, I’d be letting you down.”

Jaehyun’s expression grows more miserable at this. “I-I’m sorry, (y/n), I never meant to make you feel unheard. And I never meant for it to feel like you couldn’t tell me about these things.” 

“It-It’s not your fault, Jaehyun,” you protest, but he shakes his head, obviously disappointed in himself.

“No, (y/n), I’m supposed to be your best friend. How stupid can I be if I can’t notice when you’re having a hard time? I didn’t even stop to ask how you’ve been doing because you seemed to be doing fine. But I should’ve known better. I shouldn’t have taken things at face value. I’m such an idiot,” Jaehyun berates himself. “I’m so, so sorry.” 

At his sincere apology, you can’t help but admit it to yourself—you desperately needed Jaehyun’s support as your best friend, but you were too scared to ask for it. And honestly? You felt immensely lonely without his words and presence to comfort you. 

“(Y/n), I hope you know that I see how hard you work. I know your sleepless nights and how much effort you put into every single thing you do. Despite everything you’re going through, you’re always trying to be better than the person you were yesterday, and it’s something I truly admire about you. But I hope you know it’s okay to be imperfect and flawed and to not be okay. I want to be here on your good and bad days. I just wish I could’ve been more vocal about this earlier… I’ve really taken you for granted, huh?” Jaehyun sighs wetly, taking your hand in both of his. He’s still crying; you both are, actually. What a silly pair the two of you make. 

“Thank you for trusting me and sharing all of this. It literally means the world to me,” Jaehyun rambles. “I promise I’ll be a better friend to you, someone you feel safe opening up to about anything, whether that be your achievements or your struggles. And (y/n), if it’s not too much to ask… Could I ask you to be more honest with me in the future?” He stares at you imploringly. “I don’t want you to think you have to go through all of this alone. I want to be here for you the same way you’ve always been there for me… Okay?”

“....Okay. Okay, I’ll try,” you respond softly. “Thank you, Jaehyun. I… I’ve never told anyone about this before. But thank you so much for just listening, and not judging, and accepting me for me…” While you appreciate Jaehyun’s presence at this moment, a new wave of fatigue washes over you with all this emotional vulnerability and talking. “Jaehyun… I’m still feeling really tired, so I might go back to sleep. Sorry, I know you came all the way here to see me, but here I am being shit company,” you apologize regretfully.

“Oh! That’s okay. I’ll see you tomorrow?” Jaehyun stands up from your bed to leave. When your fingers slip from each other, you feel an acute loss of warmth—both in your hands and in your heart. He makes his way to the door, slipping on his shoes, and your heart sinks. There’s something you badly want to ask of Jaehyun, but you’re too much of a coward to tell him what you truly want. You don’t want to be on your own right now, but you’d probably be asking too much of him. Accepting your fate, you settle in bed, attempting to take a nap so restless you’re sure will be of no help to your exhaustion.

However, Jaehyun himself stops in the doorway. He turns back around, a distraught look on his face. “(Y/n)... I don’t want to assume, but are you sure you want to be alone right now?” he begins. “I mean, we just had this really heavy talk. Can… Can I keep you company? I promise I’m great at cuddles—that’s what all my other friends say anyway when I annoy them with my hugs.”

When you nod, that’s all it takes for Jaehyun to shuck off his shoes, strip his jacket, and climb into bed with you. With your ear against his steady heartbeat and his comforting arm around you, you’re asleep in no time. It’s the best you’ve ever slept in months.

[heavywithplot]

logging back in after ten thousand years with some snippets of something I’ve been writing!

the uhhh implied plot in these excerpts is pretty dense because I’m one of those people who needs a really heavy plot to get my brain going

hopefully it’s still fun!

'Heracleides!' booms Achaeus, running forward, but Heracleides shoves him to the side and leans over to vomit into a ditch.

'A doctor,' starts Achaeus, but Heracleides waves a hand in disagreement, spitting one last time.

'It's fine,' he says, straightening up, even though it makes him go lightheaded for a moment. 'It's fine, leave your doctors to attend to your men--'

Achaeus shakes his head. 'If you're ill, then--'

Heracleides takes Achaeus' hand in his own and presses it to his body. 'I'm not ill,' he says. 'I'm pregnant. It's yours. I am tired, I don't need a doctor, but I would like to get out of this fucking rain.'

His condition, as his brother had so delicately put it, is impossible to tell at a glance, the toga hides away much of the body, and the cloak covers him further, although it's not intentional on Heracleides' part to hide away from his own body: he hates the being cold.

With Achaeus' hand held to his own body, it's impossible to not feel the distinct swell of of his belly.

Achaeus' eyes widen in realization. 'Why did you ride out here in the rain?' he asks in a rush, leading them both into the heart of his tent. 'You should be back in the City, not here--'

'Officially? The Archon has decided you need your husband to advise you on matters of diplomacy, so here I am,' replies Heracleides, unclasping his cloak and giving it over to Achaeus, who hangs it to dry near the brazier. 'Unofficially, there are riots happening in every district and civil war seems to be on the verge of breaking out, so your brother politely suggested that a military camp might be safer than our home.' Heracleides grimaces. The last he saw of the City before leaving the gates was the house of an unpopular senator catching flame, so Megakles had been right to send him away, but fuck everything, Heracleides misses his library.

Any thoughts that he might have spared for his collection of books were dashed when Achaeus pulled him into a tight embrace.

'I am glad,' Achaeus says, 'that you are here. I've missed you more than you can imagine.'

'He has!' comes a voice from the entrance of the tent. 'He won't fucking shut up about you.'

'That's my second in command,' says Achaeus. 'Ignore him.'

'Hail,' says Heracleides, raising a hand in greeting instead. 'Thank you for putting up with my husband.'

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

'You should eat more,' says Mindarus with a frown. 'You're showing more than I expect for someone as far along as you are.'

Heracleides shrugs. 'I'm tall, my husband looks like he crushes rocks for fun,' he says.

Midarus' frown deepens. 'We'll talk about that later, what concerns me right now is that you're becoming thin.' The doctor crosses his arms. 'I know that physicians all have their schools of thought with what's right or not to eat when someone is expecting a child, but you are loosing weight in a way that concerns me. Your child will be fine because it's living off of you, but you might not be, and as you pointed out: your husband looks like he crushes rocks for fun.' Mindarus leans back in his seat. 'Anything is better than nothing, and if they don't have it in the camp, tell me and I'll send for it.'

They sit in silence for a moment, Heracleides turning Mindarus' words around in his mind. 'I'll try,' he says finally, because nothing Mindarus has said is wrong, and he's aware that Achaeus is listening in on the other side of the fabric of the tent. Mindarus nods, and stands to leave.

'You should rest more, too,' he says. 'The city physicians are right about that one.'

Heracleides laughs. 'There actually is diplomatic work to be done here,' he says when Mindarus glares at him. 'Half these men are Spartan defectors, you remember Spartan diplomacy?' Heracleides raises his voice just enough so that Achaeus would know he's taking the piss out of him. 'The last time they tried diplomatic tactics, they attacked their allies.'

Mindarus' eyes widen, and Achaeus' own muffled laughter cuts through the leather of the tent walls.

Heracleides raises his eyebrows pointedly. 'See?' he says. 'Grain shipment negotiations can get messy. If they go south, people starve, and the City is still on the verge of civil war. What do you think will happen if people with nothing to lose begin to go hungry on top of everything else?'

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

In the later months of pregnancy, most of the people Heracleides knew went without a belt entirely, finding the whole deal tedious. Heracleides likes the routine of it, although he had stopped tying it off around his waist and instead over the curve of his belly. It drew more attention than he otherwise would have liked, especially now that he was tying the belt off under his chest and the way that it made the fabric of the tunic hung off his body showed off how large with child he had grown, but the way Achaeus stared was nice and as much as Heracleides had steeled his shoulders through the whole ordeal, he missed his fucking library and wanted nothing more than to be home.

He wasn't even sure he still had a library. The rioting, Megakles had written, was getting worse, and Heracleides couldn't blame the people for that, but the first things to go were always the houses of the senators, and as a diplomat, Heracleides' home was in the district that senators kept theirs.

He starts a little when Achaeus comes up behind him, the warmth of his body against Heracleides' back, and wraps his arms around him.

'I wish I could bring us both home,' Achaeus says.

Heracleides says nothing for a moment, just idly runs a hand up and down over the swell of his belly.

'Give me your hand,' he says, and Achaeus obliges. Heracleides guides it down to where their child has been playing gymnastics with his body, and after a moment, a kick against their palms joined together.

Achaeus inhales sharply, and buries his face into Heracleides neck.

'Our child is already at home in the military camps,' Heracleides says, and pretends he doesn't feel the wetness from tears against his skin. 'If you think this child keeps me up at night now, imagine how much worse it would be surrounded by the dull routine of politics.'

[maybeimamuppet]

matildamas day 4: christmas crafts

hello everyone!! welcome to the fourth day!! we’re a third of the way through :( but hey day four woo :)))

ironically after yesterday i’m very sick today so pls excuse the late upload!! and please enjoy :)

—————

“Mummy?” Matilda asks one crisp morning.

“Yes?” Miss Honey replies.

“I’m bored,” Matilda says. Miss Honey looks at her almost in shock. This is a first.

“Bored? You don’t want to read or anything?”

“I do,” Matilda responds. Of course she does. She always wants to read. “But I just finished my book, and I need some time to process the ending.”

“Ah,” Miss Honey hums knowingly. That’s one of the best things about living with Miss Honey. She understands all the complicated feelings about books. “I’ll think of something for you to do while we eat.”

Matilda nods and tucks into her lunch. Miss Honey is still recovering from her illness, so it’s a simple turkey sandwich and some carrots today. Luckily, one of Matilda’s favorites, and she wolfs it down in ten minutes flat. She does the dishes so Miss Honey can sit and rest. She’s doing much better, but the doctor did say she needs to take it easy for at least a week.

“Have you done any art besides your drawings?” Miss Honey asks as Matilda leaves the last dish in the drying rack. Matilda shakes her head. “No crafts?”

“No,” Matilda responds. “Except in your class.”

“Well, we’ll have to remedy that. We need some more decorations anyway,” Miss Honey says. “Would you go get your art kit, please?”

Matilda nods and runs up to her bedroom. She roots around under her bed until she feels her hand touch the cold metal of the briefcase her art kit is stored in. She grabs it and drags it out and carries it carefully back down to the kitchen.

Miss Honey smiles as she rests it gently on the table and clicks it open. She reaches into it and pulls out the colored paper. “Okay if we use this?”

Matilda nods. She uses it to draw on occasionally, but most of the time she just uses plain white paper.

“Let’s start with a paper chain. I used to make these every year in school when I was a little girl,” Miss Honey says. She starts cutting one of the red sheets into long strips about an inch thick. Matilda watches for a while before she hesitantly reaches for a green sheet and some scissors to do the same.

Once they have about three sheets of paper cut all up into strips, Miss Honey shows Matilda how to make the chain. “Start with a loop like this.” She folds one of the strips into a ring. She undoes it once she shows her and lets Matilda glue the real thing together. “Now take another strip and put it through, then turn that into a loop too.”

Matilda grabs a strip in a different color and feeds it through the loop, then glues the ends together to make another link.

“Good! And that’s it, just keep adding strips and making more links,” Miss Honey says. Matilda does, going in a pattern until she runs out of paper. Red, green, yellow, red, green, yellow.

“It’s quite satisfying,” Matilda says.

“It is. It’s easy to do while you chat to people or watch something, that kind of thing,” Miss Honey says. Matilda nods.

“Can I hang it up?” she asks.

“Of course! Let me go find a tack, you go figure out where you want it,” Miss Honey says. Matilda meanders around the house looking for the perfect spot, and eventually decides on hanging it to frame the window in the front door. Miss Honey puts the thumbtack back where she found it and helps her tape it into place instead. “Lovely!”

Matilda smiles at it. She wonders how long you could make one with enough paper. “I’m still bored.”

“I was afraid of that,” Miss Honey replies with a sigh. She thinks again. “Have you ever made paper stars?”

Matilda shakes her head, so Miss Honey leads her back to the kitchen and back to the paper. This time, though, she uses some of the fancy-patterned scrapbook paper she’s been using to make Christmas cards with. She uses a ruler to draw evenly-spaced lines on the back and cuts them apart so, yet again, they’re left with thin strips.

“This is what all the girls in my grade did when we didn’t want to pay attention to our teachers,” Miss Honey says. “So I’d better not hear anything about you doing this in class.”

Matilda giggles. She has to actively try not to pay attention in class, unless they’re studying something she already knows. This might come in handy those times. Miss Honey knows this just as well as she does, being much the same way. Matilda has a hard time imagining she ever didn’t want to pay attention in class.

Miss Honey shows her the proper way to fold and pinch the paper strips so they end up forming a perfect little star. Matilda gets sent to the living room with all the leftover paper and a huge old jam jar to put all her stars in while Miss Honey tidies up after their other crafts and their lunch.

Matilda isn’t sure how long she spends making the stars. The method is quite methodical, and the repetitive motions are incredibly relaxing. She entertains herself in her head, inventing new stories and watching them play out over and over before switching to another. Eventually, she hears the floorboards creak as Miss Honey comes to join her in the living room. She also hears a, “Good heavens, Matilda!” and jumps nearly a full foot.

“What?” she asks.

“How many have you made?!” Miss Honey asks with an incredulous laugh. “I wasn’t away that long!”

Matilda looks down and sees herself absolutely surrounded by paper stars. No less than a thousand, and likely many more. “Oh.”

“Goodness gracious,” Miss Honey chuckles. “Let me get a container for those, hold on.”

Miss Honey returns with a nice glass vase. Matilda stocks it with stars, and it makes hardly a dent in the pile around her. Miss Honey frowns and returns with another. Matilda fills it too. Still, a concerningly large pile of stars remains. Miss Honey comes back with a couple more empty jam jars. Matilda fills them so much the lids barely close, but she manages to stuff the last star in the last jar and slam the lid shut.

Matilda puts one of the jars in her bedroom as a decoration, while Miss Honey adds some artificial flowers to both vases. One of the other jars gets labeled ‘magic stars’ and Miss Honey explains she’ll take it to school and use it for something with the younger students. The last jar gets labeled the same and tucked on a shelf in the kitchen in case they need a little magic themselves.

“They do look nice in the vases,” Miss Honey says as she puts one as the centerpiece on the kitchen table. “And this’ll last ‘til you’re about eighty.”

Matilda giggles. “Sorry I got carried away.”

“It’s alright, love. I did have a feeling that might happen,” Miss Honey chuckles. “Let’s just hold off on adding to our collection for a few years and find something else for you to do, hm?”

Matilda nods. “I got one too many paper cuts, I think.”

Miss Honey tuts over her hands and bandages a few of the smarting little wounds. Matilda wiggles her fingers once they’re decked with Hello Kitty bandaids. Miss Honey hands her her coat and the extra vase of stars and fake flowers. “Why don’t you go take this to Mrs. Phelps? Fresh air will do you good and she might have a less dangerous activity for you to do.”

Matilda happily takes the glass vase and goes running out of the house.

How nice to share the shine of a star with a loved one.

Even if it is just paper.

————-

thanks for reading!! see you tomorrow!!

[swampgallows]

Hi, I'm back. I'm the one who sent you an anonymous question before. First of all, thank you very much for reading my words patiently and replying seriously. From your reply, I learned more about the charm of Garrosh, this lovely guy. Secondly, I'm glad that you have some ideas to make some videos to express your feelings about Garrosh. If you really do it, I will definitely watch it carefully. Then I want to say that what makes me feel the most sad is that people always attack Garrosh. You can imagine that I opened Twitter or other websites with enthusiasm to enjoy some Garrosh-related creations and discussions, but browsing down, they are all cursing this character (not all, but about eight out of ten messages are cursing him 😢). I feel that this is a hurdle for me. It always makes me can't help thinking about these negative comments and makes my mood worse. It seems to have become a way to torture me, because I really love this character too much and can't help searching for his related content. So I've been looking for a way to overcome this problem. Anyway, thank you for listening to my complaints. I feel much better after venting them out. At the same time, I hope you can get better and better and create more interesting works and paintings.

hey, no problem! I know there's a lot of hateful and scary content out there when it comes to Garrosh. For lack of a better term, my blog is a safe space. I do not shy away from what Garrosh has done in the lore or the reputation he has among the fanbase, but overall the content I post about him is silly and fun.

i don't know if you're new to tumblr as well as new to WoW, but you can search my "garrosh hellscream" tag on my blog for hundreds of posts about him. I've curated a LOT of Garrosh posts on my tumblr over the years, as far back as 2013! If you want to look at them all a little easier, visit my archive: it will display them all as thumbnails in reverse chronological order.

There's also my "yamyell" tag, which has posts about Garrosh (like this one) and reblogs that I feel are fitting for his character. Most of these posts are silly or "shitposts", but there is some lore discussion too. I've linked you my "yamyell masterpost" before, which is a collection of my more notable Garrosh lore analysis/"essays".

I have also written a fan fiction called Salt the Roads if you are interested in a Garrosh x reader story. I will warn you though: it is visceral and does not have a happy ending, but I enjoyed writing it and I have been told by many very lovely people that I write Garrosh accurately. Please mind the content warnings, as it contains some potentially triggering stuff about disability and mental illness.

If you use Discord, feel free to join my Garrosh fan server, YAMYELL! We're a pretty quiet server so you don't have to worry about a ton of notifications, and about once a month we have crafting nights where we hang out and talk.

I am always happy to talk about Garrosh, so I hope to hear from you again soon :) if not, I wish you happiness and luck in finding stuff about Garrosh that makes you happy!

[reginarubie]

Jon and Sansa do end up together, but—, part III

Okay, so, time to be true with you, I had this ready since last month, but first I wanted to get the Val one out first, and then I got swamped over by work, my studies, and family matters and kind of lost all energy.

Anyway, here it is, the third part of the Jon and Sansa through their exes' eyes. This time it's again through one of Sansa's exes (or, maybe's) and I think it's very sweet altogether, so I hope you enjoy.

Part I: Waymar Royce

Part II: Val

Prompt: Sansa and Jon do end up together, but— featuring good and bad experiences for both of them, and the way they are seen through their exes, loved ones and each other's eyes.

This one is inspired by You're beautiful, by J. Blunt

It’s time to face the truth [I’ll never be with you]

Podrick~

The first time Pod sees Sansa Stark, it’s by chance. It wouldn’t even be correct to say he actually saw her, it was more like a glimpse. After having spent half of his life at Lannisport and the other half at Kings Landing Pod had yet become accustomed at how things were done in the north. 

The people here are less accommodating to strangers, southerner they call him, in a derogatory manner; everyone seems suspicious of him, yet when he had walked into a bar the other night and gotten excited over a rugby game the people of his neighborhood had warmed up to him — even though he keeps for an opposing team. 

But, where the people are less accommodating to strangers, the nobility is much more approachable than in the South. Lady Arya and lord Rickon Stark, for example, are both athletes and they usually hang out — or so the press seems to say — in bars and hostels with their own people, wearing ripped jeans and t-shirts, or sweats and sweatpants. Easygoing and approachable. 

Lord Stark and lady Stark are often seen together, just taking a stroll in the market, speaking with the people, letting them shoot photos, just listening to them. 

Lord Stark is the kind of man you’d have a pint with!, one of the men at the bar says often, to which an old half-homeless man will reply he actually did drink a pint with the lord of Winterfell one night, ten years ago. 

Lord Brandon is the most secluded of the Stark, possibly due his condition. Though he can often been seen during official outings, or with his mother during their meetings for charity. Though often the tabloids post about him and his two long-time friends, Meera Reed and Jojen Reed, both from the small nobility. 

Lord Robb, the heir to Winterfell, is instead known for his kind manner and good spirit. He is at college where he is working to get his degree in art and history, instead of business or economics, or law like everyone was expecting him as the heir to Winterfell.

Lord Robb drives every other weekend from college to be present to the matches of his brother’s rugby team. It is a family date, everyone will be present and then they would head to Hot Pie’s Place and they would offer a round to everyone present. 

Lady Sansa, the second oldest, looks every inch the lady, always prim and proper. She has just started her own degree in law and is often seen either alone or with her mother in charge of charities or visiting the ill or the homeless. She flies to the Riverlands every other month to visit with her old grandfather and meet a few friends. There had been a time the tabloids had been extremely interested in lady Sansa’s love life, like when she had a relationship with Joffrey Baratheon, or when there were rumors of a love story with her best-friend’s ex, Ramsay Bolton. But at some point the tabloids had stopped speaking of it altogether. 

“Sing a song lady Sansa!” someone had shouted and that had gotten his attention as he exited his train, he had followed the crowd to find Sansa Stark sat near an homeless man who was strumming on an old, overused guitar. She had been singing softly some song about Florian and Jonquil. 

Pod had been late so he had not lingered, but he remembers thinking she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his life — and he had seen Cersei Lannister, who the tabloids had nicknamed the Light of the West for her beauty — because there was an elegance to her that sparkled through her blue eyes. 

He had truly met her a couple of years after that chance sighting. Pod had been working under doctor Brienne of Tarth for four months putting his degree to good use and helping under one of the best in his sector. 

He knew Brienne of Tarth had been appointed with the support of lady Catelyn Stark at the head of the association and since then Brienne had, had an in with the Starks which had meant publicity for their work, charities thrown in their name and all kind of supports the Starks could give them; so it didn’t surprise him when she told him that they would receive a noble visit later in the week. 

When the day came he had expected lady Stark or perhaps even lord Brandon — he had met both already a month before — instead when the doorbell rang and he urged the elderly to see who it was at the door he felt himself go blind as his eyes fell on the beaming smile of lady Sansa Stark. 

“Good morning,” she greets, her voice soft, the smile evident in her tone “I was wondering if you have space for two more today” she offers with that easygoing smile that she shares with all of her siblings. 

As she said so she steps to the side and exposes her older brother, lord Robb Stark. Both of them have the red hair and the blue eyes of the Tullys of Riverrun, and they seem to brim with happiness as the men and women start clapping and cheering them all. 

He realizes Lady Sansa was still waiting for his reply when he turns to her and she is smiling questioningly to him, he blushes to the roots of his dark hair, his neck burning as his ears as he stumbles over his words to let them inside, apologizing. Lord Robb gives him a pitying look and a pat on the shoulder as he passes him by “Don’t worry, my sister tends to have that effect,” he says to him chuckling as both turned to look at lady Sansa, already greeting each and every man and woman in the room as well as Brienne. 

He learned that day that lady Sansa is an habitué and that she will often bring along one of her siblings, but that today she has chosen her brother Robb — kind of wrestled me out of my wedding plans — as the activity of the day is finger painting and lord Robb has just graduated from college, his degree in art and history received with the best grades. So it kind of is his field. 

Lady Sansa sits with the elderly, listens to their stories, holds them as they are overcome with emotion, compliments their bravery and their art, comments on how well she found them since her last visit. Made them feel loved. Shares with them some of her experiences at college and makes fun of her brother, affirming in this equation he has become the groomzilla of the couple. 

Pod is in awe.

“So you are Podrick,” she corners him in a moment of pause as she gets herself some water as her brother helps an old woman with arthritis to finger paint “Brienne always speaks highly of you”

That Brienne would speak of him, let alone with nobility left him feeling suddenly embarrassed. Lady Sansa listens raptly as he replies to all her questions, where did he come from?, why did he took this career path when most people tend to focus on the young instead of the elderly. Pod feels like her entire focus was not him.

It makes him feel truly seen and appreciated.

“Thank you, Podrick,” she tells him, her voice coiling with warmth “Thank you for what you’re doing here” 

***

He meets lady Sansa several other times after that first time, and he would even consider them kind of friends. Lady Sansa has taken his e-mail and often sends him links to activities he might be interested in, or simply to check in on him and the bureau. 

He doesn’t dare hope more. Though his heart skips a beat or two every time she looks at him, or smiles his way. Lord Robb teases him mercilessly about it too, every time he comes with his sister. 

Lord Rickon and lady Arya — who he met briefly only once — just rolled their eyes and waggled their eyebrows in his direction. 

Lord Bran who comes around quite often with his sister teased him as well about it, though he seemed kinder about it. Like he found endearing his evident crush on his sister, a crush she didn’t seem to have noticed either. 

Sansa even invited him out, a friend-lunch-date, they spoke of his plans for the future, for his plans in taking a more important role at the bureau for the elderly under Brienne.

“Brienne says you’re ready,” she had commented sipping on her mineral water. 

“Brienne laments I’ve been ready since I’ve arrived, she has way too much faith in my abilities”

“Don’t try to be modest,” Sansa had chastised him “Brienne is not the type to offer empty compliments. If she says you’re ready to take on more, she truly thinks it”

It’s only one of the several time they meet, lady Sansa is always kind and supporting. A real friend, to the point Podrick is even afraid of trying and take a step more — like even only take her hand as they walk — as he doesn’t want to ruin their friendship. 

Things starts to change when lady Sansa invites him over to Winterfell for lord Robb’s nameday. Then Podrick starts to wonder if he really could have, beyond any fear, a chance with her. 

A true fairytale coming alive before his very eyes. And it could be his life. 

Lord Robb greets him in good humor with his fiancé, Jeyne Westerling, hanging at his side. Several other friends are present, the teammates of lord Rickon, as well as the guys and girls on lady Arya’s fencing team, some colleagues and college friends of lord Robb. Lord Brandon inseparable friends.

Lady Sansa best friend, Jeyne Poole, a girl kind with big brown eyes and a loving smile, is also present. Her eyes are sad, like she’s seen too much. It makes her smile all the more beautiful and heartbreaking for it. 

She is kind of quiet and in the midst of what is a social event in full swing — for however private it’s still the nameday of the heir to Winterfell — and lady Sansa — just call me Sansa by now, Pod — the social butterfly that she is, is basically helping her mother play hostess with grace and elegance. 

“So,” Jeyne asks him nursing her non-alcoholic drink “how long have you had this crush on Sans?” 

It is rude and unpolite, it makes Pod choke on his own drink “I beg your pardon?”

“Everyone with two functioning eyes would see it,” Jeyne says, not unkindly, just matter-of-factly shrugging “it is a wonder she’s so dense sometimes” 

“I—” he stumbles with his own words unable to get them out “we’re friends” 

“Yes, I can see that. She must care for you a great deal if she has invited you to a private party,” Jeyne admits “Sansa is just like that, generous and straightforward with her affection” 

Podrick can do nothing but agree “My fondness for her it’s— I don’t have any bad intentions” he assures her. Jeyne Poole burst out in a laugh.  

“I am sorry,” she tells him seeing his affronted expression “I promise I am not laughing at you,” she says “is just… it’s clear you’re a good man, Podrick Payne. Sansa has had her share of bad men,” she sighs “and I find it cute that you’d think we’d let you this close to Sansa if we thought you were intending to harm her”

“Everyone!” Sansa’s voice saves him from finding a reply to that “all lights out!” 

“Roger-roger that!” lord Rickon exclaims doing a poor imitation of a military salute to his sister as the room is plunged into darkness and a cloth hung from the ceiling.

Sansa fumbles around for a little bit and then a big grin blooms on her face “Jon!” there is static and all of sudden the projector comes alive and a man appears on the cloth’s surface.

“Say hello to everyone!” Sansa sing-songs, her voice ringing like bells. 

The man is covered from head to toe in the black furlined winter uniform of the Nights Watch with a wool cap over his head, some curls hanging low and framing his face, his beard well trimmed and his cheeks reddened either from the cold or because he kind of looked timid. 

“Hello everyone” he sounds almost like a dying whale, which is exactly what lady Arya Stark told him bluntly, provoking the general hilarity. 

“Robb, mate” this Jon says, instead of addressing the comment “I am sorry I couldn’t make it, but as you can see I’m still stuck in the Lands of Always Winter,” he tells them gesturing around himself “just to make this video call Sansa had to pull a couple of strings” 

There is wetness in lord Robb’s eyes as he twists  to look at his sister, who blows him a kiss. 

“Anyway, sorry I have to miss your nameday, mate, I’ll be there for the wedding, I promise” 

“Remember Snow, you better keep your promises or I will unleash Rickon on you” lord Robb threatens wetly. Podrick wonders if he will actually be overcome by emotions. 

“I’ll do my best, Stark” the other man replies, there is some more static “anyway, the line doesn’t hold very well or long so, here, mate— happy birthday” and he maneuvers the camera so that it looks at the sky and the northern lights shining into the darkness to everyone’s awe. 

Sansa is holding her hands to her heart as awe paints her face and a smile curls at her lips. 

Later, when everyone has been shown to a room where they could stay or went home Podrick is sitting on a swing with Arya Stark as she and her friends spoke loudly about sports, Pod finds himself fitting right in. 

He sees how touched lord Robb was at the video call and asks lady Arya if this Jon is a cousin or a relative. 

“Jon?” she asks “Jon’s family. He is Robb’s best friend, has been since they’ve been what like five? Sansa how old where you when Jon started to come around?”

Podrick hadn’t even noticed Sansa, who is currently being squeezed an inch from her life, by the eldest Stark. She rises her head from lord Robb’s chest and looks thoughtful for a moment “I think you were like one or two,” she comments “I was around four I believe” 

“So an age ago!” Arya Stark teases “no wonder you have those wonderful crows feet!”

“Oi! You’re only two years younger than me!” Sansa exclaims falling into an easy banter with her sister. 

***

It is months before Pod actually finds the courage to decide to ask Sansa out to a date, he wants everything to be perfect, from the very moment in which he would ask her which would’ve been during one of her visits — solo visit this time around, he checked — to the bureau for the elderly. 

When the doorbell rings Pod springs to his feet, for the general hilarity of the old people, to go and answer the door.

“Hello!” Sansa exclaims, her beam was somehow brighter than it usually is, she is holding her arm strangely behind herself, as if gripping something or someone “stop being shy!— I hope you don’t mind, I’ve brought a friend over” she says, the fondness evident in her tone as she tugs at the wrist just beyond Pod’s sight. 

When a grumbling Jon Snow enters in his line of sight Pod feels the world shift “Stop manhandling me,” he tells her, but without heat, just in fond annoyance.

“Then stop being so stubborn, everyone is going to love you to bits,” Sansa replies and for a moment they look completely lost in their own little bubble, then it is Sansa who burst the bubble “Jon this is my friend Podrick, the one I told to you about. Pod this is Jon”

My friend Podrick.

This is Jon, as if this Jon doesn’t need any other qualifications beyond being himself to be worthy to stand by her side. Like she doesn't need to specify with him.

It makes something ugly coil in Pod’s stomach. Something surprisingly similar to jealousy. Jon Snow holds out his hand to him, his face schooled in an expression of confidence, seriousness at his brow. 

“Pleased to meet you,” Jon Snow says as Pod shakes his hand. He has a good, firm handshake “I am sorry Sansa sprang me on you all”

“As if!” Brienne intervenes “Any friend of lady Sansa is a friend to us all!” she exclaims and the elderly echo her. Sansa’s smile is full of mirth as she goes around her usual business. 

Jon Snow is more reserved than Sansa is, quiet and timid, but there is fondness shining in his eyes as Sansa urges him to join her. He’s a good listener and the ladies are smitten with him. 

“Jon is very brave,” Sansa is telling one of them “he was a ranger of the Nights Watch,” she says warmly “but he has chosen to step down from the active missions to be a diplomatic liaison” she explains. 

“Oh you’ve seen many wildlings?” one of the women asks. 

“I did, ma’am, though they prefer to be called Free Folk” he replies politely “they are not so different from us, after all,” he states “they’re very loud” he says almost as an afterthought, as if something pains him. 

Sansa, emphath that she is, covers his hand on his lap and squeezes it gently but firmly. Jon Snow seems to draw comfort by it and looks up to her with a soft smile.

It’s that smile that makes Pod hit the brakes. The backlash almost breaking his heart.

Sansa blushes at that smile. He has never seen her blushing at him, though she did make him blush more than once. 

“Jon is considered a Free Folk-friend,” she tells them “they trust him,” she adds.

In her voice Jon Snow seems amazing. 

Pod wonders if Jon Snow knows that he is amazing in her eyes.

They move like an unit, Pod can’t help but notice, like they are so comfortable around each other that they don’t need to look at one another to know where the other is and move accordingly. It’s kind of astounding to watch. 

“Sansa speaks always highly of you,” Jon Snow tells him at one moment when he gets a little bit of respite from speaking. He seems like he might unravel any given moment “she seems to genuinely like you”

“I like her as well” he doesn’t know why it sounds so bitten out. Jon Snow doesn’t seem surprised by it. 

“I know,” is his surprising reply, he doesn’t say anything else and that spurns Pod to look up to his face. Try to read his expression, but he is unreadable. The only thing he can read as clear as a day on his face is his love for Sansa. 

He genuinely loves her.

Pod knows that expression is not reflected in his own eyes. He likes Sansa, but he does not look at her like she makes the world bloom around her, even though she does. 

He likes her, he suddenly realizes, like one is supposed to like a painting, or something beautiful but out of their grasp. What he sees reflected in Jon Snow’s eyes as he meets Sansa’s blue ones, that’s raw and that’s real.

He has no doubt Jon Snow could name every single little quirk Sansa has, every quality and every flaw, all shadowed by how powerfully he really loves her. As a person, not as the personality.

Later when the elderly ask for a song, Sansa indulges them and Pod can see Jon Snow drumming his fingers at the steady tempo Sansa’s humming at. And when they put on some music to dance whilst Sansa dances with him too, she persuades Jon Snow to dance as well.

“I am a terrible dancer” he reminds her.

“Don’t lie,” Sansa quips “I remember you took Arya to her dance lessons and that you fenced as well. Fencing requires the same grace and swiftness as dancing, just follow the sway”

And sway they do. It’s… breathtaking to watch as the first genuine smile tugs at the corners of Jon Snow’s lips as he decides to completely forego the music beat and hoists Sansa across his chest and swings her around making her giggle like a little girl. Full of mirth. 

A soft lady and her knight. That’s the way they look.

It’s tender the way that, when he relents his hold on her, Sansa kisses his cheek and thanks him as the elderly applaud. 

Ah young love, breathes out one of the elderly patients, one with dementia and Sansa blushes and shushes Jon when he tries to explain himself. 

Pod knows then. Even as Sansa hugs him tight that evening. Even if by any chance Sansa would say yes, even if he did end up going out with her.

He’ll never be with her. Not really. 

Jon is her endgame. Might be Sansa doesn’t even know herself, but she looks at Jon like he lit the stars up just for her, even when he only offers a comment to her. 

She’ll end up with him, in the end. He can already see it. 

He doesn't know what to do then.

Sansa shines brightly and she's so beautiful, and he'd like nothing more but have a chance with her.

But asking her feels like a fraud. It's not like Sansa isn't complete and lovable and shining without Jon, but with Jon she's more at ease, she's more herself than he has ever seen her being. Even if she did say yes, he would never be for her what she needs him to be. Who she needs him to be. He cannot be him. He doesn't even want to, to be frank. So he never does ask her out, and in the end the time for it is passed.

***

Months later he meets Jeyne Poole by chance whilst doing grocery shopping. Jeyne smiles to him softly and quips on how he should really try to survive with more than just pre-cooked meals. 

It is entirely on a whim that Pod asks her if she’d like to have dinner together, maybe teach him how to cook a couple of dishes.

He doesn’t know why he does it. Maybe because she feels realer than anyone else at the moment.

In the end Pod falls into a routine with Jeyne and one day, next time Sansa visits actually, she brings Jeyne along and serves him with a long, appraising look before matching them for every game they play all day long. 

Might be Pod might have wanted to ask Sansa out, once. Might be she could’ve said yes. Might be they could’ve been a couple, for a time.

Still Pod seems unable to see past Sansa’s persona, and her friendly character. 

Instead he argues with Jeyne continuously because she can be stubborn and willful and outspoken even when she's soft and pliant, and won’t apologize for it.

And every time they argue Pod finds himself asking himself why he would bother and every time, when he sees her name on his phone screen he calls, because he misses her. 

They become friends, real friends, he and Sansa.

Like friends who speak on the phone and share ice-cream and childhood stories and plan surprises party for their common friend, Jeyne. It’s Sansa who actually prompts him to gather courage and ask Jeyne out on a date. 

She says no. 

Then she grabs him by the hem of his coat and kisses him, squarely on the lips. 

“I don’t do dates,” she says “I don’t do boyfriends either,” she adds “not after—” her voice breaks “but I want to make it work with you”

It’s unconventional, but in the end Pod manages to make her fall in love with him, for real and then it’s Jeyne who asks him to marry her, one day, three years later. Sansa teases him mercilessly for it. 

He learns all that Jeyne suffered, some of what Sansa suffered. Some at the hands of the same man. He learns that Jon Snow had been there, every time, to pick Sansa back together from the ground and hold her back together until she felt like she could breath again.

Jeyne tells him when she asks him to marry him, he did the same for her, albeit unwittingly. Supported her even when he didn't not against what. Or whom.

Pod honestly feel like he needs a pint, or two after he learns the truth of what Jeyne went through and when he asks lord Robb about it, about him the man tells him they have resolved the matter, that he cannot harm either Jeyne nor Sansa anymore. That Jon made sure he would never could.

Pod doesn't want to know what happened. He doesn't care. He holds Jeyne more tightly that night, even as she breaks. And he finds the beauty even in her broken pieces.

***

Sansa can be so petulant at times, he discovers. It’s like watching a parallel universe once he understands the difference between the Sansa Stark persona and Sansa Stark the woman. 

He has just started to steadily go out with Jeyne when Sansa brings Jon Snow at one of her visits again. This time their fingers are interlocked together as they walk inside.

There is tenderness as Jon kisses Sansa’s temple, there is love as he nudges her toward each row of elderly. 

A smile soft on his lips as he watches Sansa speak excitedly of the new developments in her tireless work to have the North separate from the South and give the Free Folk back their land. 

“So,” this time, it’s Pod who does the cornering “you finally got the guts to ask her out?” 

Jon smiles enigmatically at him “Something like that” he says. Pod gets the feeling things might have been much more amusing than he thought in the beginning. 

“Honey?,” Sansa calls from somewhere in the other room, Jon blushes a bit beneath his well trimmed dark beard; Sansa walks inside and smiles brightly “what, are you hiding from me, now?”

It’s astounding, after having known Jon before, and having seen him in different settings how easily he moves to accomodate Sansa in his guard — a soldier remains a soldier, even when he retires — letting her slip through and caressing the back of her head gently, cupping it softly before pressing a featherlike kiss on her lips.

“Of course not, baby” he assures her “I was just catching up with Pod, here” he justifies.

Sansa cranes her head to look at him “Pod, are you trying to steal my boyfriend from me?” she demands with a laugh, a bit petulantly perhaps, but it’s all in good humor “what would Jeyne think?”

Pod laughs at that. 

They are sweet, and she’s beautiful, even more beautiful than she was before because she feels loved. 

Because she is loved.

And when Jeyne walks down the aisle, arm in arm with her mother, and preceded by her maid of honor, Sansa, her smile beams in the same way. Because Jeyne knows she is loved. Because she feels she's loved.

She looks like an angel, his Jeyne.

He dances with Sansa too at the reception of his and Jeyne's wedding.

“You know,” he tells her at one point, as he spins her “I had the oddest crush on you at one point” he admits. 

Sansa giggles “I know,” she says “I noticed. I liked you too,” she tells him “if you had asked I would've said yes” 

Pod makes her twirl around herself “We're better off as friends” he says and there is no bitterness there, there's actually relief and Sansa nods “Yeah, we are” she says “and you are Jeyne were made for each other”

Pod actually blushes a bit at that “And there you are, blushing like a pretty maid” she teases him, and it's only seeing the mischievous light in her eyes that Pod realizes with a startle “You did it on purpose!, all along” he accuses.

Sansa shrug elegantly “It was cute, how affected you were. I liked it” she winks at Jon as Pod spins her and actually shines the moment he cuts in to have a dance for himself. Jon blushes too when Sansa tells him he looks very handsome.

And Pod smiles looking at them, and he kisses Jeyne.

Might be Pod had a crush on Sansa Stark once. Might be Sansa might have said yes if he ever asked her out.

He ends up with the love of his life instead, just as Sansa does. For not knowing what to do, Pod thinks, he's done pretty well. He kisses Jeyne as Jon whisks Sansa on the dance floor for another dance and spins her around making her giggle like a little girl and kisses her lips.

Right now it's Sansa who's blushing, but she's smiling too.

They are the center of their little world. And Pod, Pod has his own enclosed in the palm of Jeyne's hand.

Fin

So, okay, this one turned to be more about Pod little crush than a real relationship between him and Sansa, but I think that Jon and Sansa shine through anyway so I hope you enjoyed!

As always you can find it in my collection of prompts on ao3: The Jonsa Hag's prompts, chapter 6.

Sending all my love ~G.

[shepherds-of-haven]

I hope you’re having a great day Lena! I was just wondering if we could have any fluff facts about the shepherds as a whole! Like fun tidbits of how they interact with each other, what some of them do if they have the same day off, does anyone host weekly game nights?? I hope that makes sense! Reading the recent short story on Patreon I love seeing how the characters interact with one another and now I need moreeeeeee🙏

Ooh, great question! I’m feeling curiously tapped dry at the moment, so I’ll probably have to reblog this as more ideas come to me; I’m so happy you’re enjoying the short story, btw!! 💖

Some group dynamic headcanons:

Many of them steal clothes from each other. Briony wears a cute sweater of Shery's (she asked), Ayla gets cold so she just takes one of Red's jackets from a chair (she didn't ask), Chase gives Tallys his scarf one day and Riel corders Trouble a pair of gloves from a fashion line he favors because his old ones are holey and they get into an argument about it... This leads to some recruits mistakenly thinking that the captains are all involved in some sort of mass relationship because they keep walking out of each other's rooms wearing each other's clothes. (The recruits believe a lot of really dumb stuff, if you couldn't tell. They LOVE gossip. It's like a competitive sport in the compound)

There is a weekly card game night, initiated and organized first by Chase, but it grows bigger over time, with snacks, cakes, drinks, and new games being procured! I'd actually say it's more like every ten-fourteen days or so than on any set weekday, and is typically proposed by anyone who senses that they or others need to blow off some steam. They all tend to meet in a private common room and either just chill and play some card games and casually drink and listen to music, or they get LOUD and raucous and play more risque non-card games (like Question or Command/Truth or Dare). The loud nights are more like once a month or bi-monthly, though! They take place in the captains' lounge so dumb recruits don't get to join! It's rare that they're in there all doing the same thing, though: maybe half will be at the table playing card games while others will be broken up into smaller groups, say arm-wrestling in the corner or playing chess at the smaller table or reading, but they're all there! Game nights are almost never held unless everyone is there, which is extraordinarily difficult to schedule, but they all make an effort to make it happen--even those who first had to be dragged into it, like Blade or Riel!

Speaking of chess games, Red and Riel have a standing game where they complete at least four more moves every night that they're around and able to meet up after dinner. Planning their next move helps them both break up the monotony of the day, and it's something they enjoy immensely. However, whenever he gets called away on a mission, Red gets sick with worry that Riel's been cooking up all sorts of schemes while he's been gone, so sometimes on the road he has, like, a schematic that he doodles on trying to anticipate Riel's next move, and it's very nerdy and ramps up in joking Anxiety. Riel, graciously, goes easier on him on nights after he comes back from long trips, though he denies it

Similarly, Blade and Trouble have a standing training session once a week where they just beat the crap out of each other. This is generally where they do the majority of their talking

Briony and Ayla first had an agreement that they would get the other one up if they overslept (Briony tends to be the one who oversleeps while Ayla is better about being up at dawn, but Ayla is really grouchy if she went to bed late and Briony is the only one who can handle her), which morphed into doing runs and sparring together at dawn and having breakfast frequently!

The girls have a standing spa night once a month where they all get together in a room (usually Shery’s) and basically do sleepover stuff and relax and chat and catch up for a few hours. This also sometimes involves showing each other new outfits that they bought that month! Sometimes there are even group baths in the big common bath, but these are rarer because Shery is shy and Tallys doesn’t like sitting in hot water getting pruny

Chase and Trouble drag Red and Halek to go drinking with them around once a month; sometimes Blade is persuaded to go if Trouble can get the drop on him and punch him hard enough to wind him. It’s complicated

Riel and Shery, of course, have tea together once a week! You’re not allowed if you can’t bring a chill vibe (Riel’s rules). Tallys, Lavinet, Halek, and Red are occasional visitors; Briony is allowed on a good day. Blade would be allowed but he has 0 interest

Similarly, Lavinet hosts a weekly brunch, either in a courtyard or at some restaurant in town! Typically it’s a girl thing and Ayla, Briony, and Shery are the most consistent attendees, but Chase has snuck his way in there often, and Riel, Halek, or Red pop up occasionally!

Tallys and Halek cook together! It’s not all that often and doesn’t seem to have any set way of materializing--it just happens somehow--but they both very much enjoy it! Sometimes they cook dinner for the whole group and have a little dinner party that they both secretly get excited for! Sometimes Shery bakes the dessert!

Riel noticed that Tallys has a little garden that she spends time weeding, so he sends gardening tools or special seeds when he thinks she needs them and she leaves baskets of vegetables or vases of flowers in his office. All of this is done without exchanging a word

Chase sporadically teaches Briony acrobatics and things like tightrope walking, just randomly whenever they’re both idle. She teaches him how to gut people with bare fists and also sometimes they paint! 

Caine caught Red grazing in the pantry late one night and now it’s like a Thing where they pass each other in the kitchen and Red sort of just looks the other way re: Caine’s bedtime and what on earth he’s doing up so late and Caine doesn’t tell anybody that Red is just absent-mindedly eating a loaf of bread at 2 AM because he was too busy working to remember to eat dinner. It’ll be like, “there’s some turkey leftover from dinner in the cold box” “oh hey, Caine. thanks. ...so, what’s the news from the midnight watch tonight?” “i’m going to go hunt ghosts on the seventh floor with my friends!” “...okay! have fun!”

Lavinet has a monthly shopping trip where she updates her wardrobe, and it is very common for others to accompany her around the city and just shop while they drop! Common partners are Shery, Briony, Riel, Chase, and once memorably Blade, who didn’t know what he was in for!

Trouble and Ayla are wildly competitive and keep arm-wrestling each other for money; this becomes a bi-weekly sporting event that is eagerly attended and bet upon by third parties

There was ONE group karaoke night. ONE. Most of them got so blackout drunk that they swore to never do it again. Even now, several of them go green whenever they hear a popular bar song (“Don’t Piss Where You Plant Your Flowers”) being sung, especially badly

The game of "telephone" gets really bad in their group. It's like, Shery will say to Briony that she's worried because she thought Riel looked a bit peaky and feverish. Briony will say in passing to Trouble that Riel is getting sick and Shery is worried. Trouble will say to Tallys that Shery is worried sick because Riel is bedridden. Tallys will be mixing herbs and Chase will ask what for and Tallys will reply that Riel is sick, but because she's mixing herbs, Chase will surmise that the sickness must be quite advanced, and will later say, "Damn, have you seen Riel? Seems like he's really sick." Red will interpret this as "I have seen Riel for myself and have determined that he's extremely ill." At least four people will bust into Riel's room, expecting him to be on the verge of death, despite the fact that they saw Riel that morning. Riel will be fine and very annoyed at the intrusion.

They rarely go out as a group to bars and establishments outside of the compound (too chaotic as well as risky, for one thing, and also, recruits don't need to see their superiors like hanging out of bushes and dancing on tabletops drunk out of their minds, and also, "Mages can't drink" (lol)), but when they do deem it a worthy occasion (Trouble's birthday, say), the girls are very punctual when getting ready, and the boys are almost always extremely late due to various shenanigans (Chase forgot that he put a booby trap on Red’s door, covering Red with flour, or a cat somehow slips into Trouble’s room and steals, like, a detonator or an important key, and they have to go chasing it across the city). This has led to the girls coming late on purpose in order to even out their arrival, but mysteriously, this has only led to even later start times, meaning they often don’t get started until like 10 or 11 PM when the most well-intentioned souls meant to be in bed by midnight... that never happens, either!

One such night once led to them ending up on a ridge in the Sun’s Embrace, like a mile outside of the city, in order to watch the sun rise together, because hiking in the dark while blasted out of their minds sounded like a really good idea. They all made it, and the dawn was spectacular, but the moment was ruined when Tallys said softly, “It’s the beginning of a beautiful new day--” punctuated by Trouble abruptly throwing up in a bush and Riel just flat-out passing out

[star-anise]

Thank you for your reply. My ask was kind of all over the place. (I've done some dbt before with a previous therapist and it helped! But that therapist was not a good fit I'm at a new one now tho).

Random thing, you mentioned bpd I heard in my abnormal psychology class that a lot of therapists won't treat someone diagnosed with bpd??? It was the teacher who is a grad student studying to be a therapist who said it. And like. I don't understand. They sound like a very in need population who was often abused and there's a whole huge book of treatment resources written by someone with bpd. I've heard they're "hard to treat" and talked about like they're hopeless. but like why be a mental health professional if you don't like mentally ill/different people?

This is also the same professor who insisted trauma is only the few things listed under dsm ptsd definition as traumatic events.. like she said parents getting divorced isn't a traumatic event because you aren't physically in danger... that class really scared me about the mental health field because of all the awful people in it aspiring to be therapists including the teacher.

Sorry for all the asks I love the work you do on this blog

Ahahaha, what IS it about undergrad abnormal psych professors? Mine said he wouldn't touch clinical practice with a ten-foot pole, and told a story about how once a student told him she had schizophrenia, and he knew that she was lying because obviously nobody with schizophrenia could actually manage to attend university.

(It's seriously untrue. I've had both friends and clients with psychotic disorders who succeeded in university. He was being an ableist bastard. Like, I know psych students can tend to over-identify with a disorder they're studying without actually having it, but that doesn't mean no psych student is ever entirely correct about their deal.)

Okay so, BPD. The thing about BPD is that it requires a special skillset that does not come standard in most clinical training. If a therapist who doesn't have that skillset tries to treat someone with BPD, the therapy will not be very effective and the process will be very frustrating for both them and their client. To be very frank, it's just as true that ordinary therapists are bad at treating BPD and don't like feeling stupid, as it is that people with BPD are hard to treat.

(And training to deal with people with BPD clinically is often not included in grad school education. DBT training is expensive and they won't accept you unless you have an adequate clinical placement.)

Also, part of dealing with BPD in particular is... people with BPD often have trouble seeing authority figures with anything more nuanced than "adoration and compliance" or "fear and loathing". As a therapist, you're signing up as an authority figure. Part of the work means letting your client express all their feelings about you, and helping them work to something more nuanced and sustainable, like, "I am furious and enraged that I'm in pain and I wish my therapist could take that pain away, but I realize that's not within her power. I have to admit that she's not being an evil villain here, so I can feel my resentment but let it go."

Which can be stressful to deal with, as a therapist. You have to live with a lot of hurt and anger and rage headed your way, and keep your perspective. Be empathetic without getting carried away in those emotions. You have to be able to face that pain and say, "I can't take that away. I can only help you learn to bear it."

Basically everyone I know in grad school had a nervous breakdown somewhere along the line because we go to therapist school because we're smart and capable and feel good about helping people, so when we encounter a person we can't help, or are put in situations where we have to stop helping, we tend to have existential crises and end up sobbing in the student lounge about What Am I Even Good For Now. I was lucky because I had a version of that breakdown before I entered grad school, and my therapist warned me to get a new shrink when I moved for my Master's, "Because if you don't need one at the beginning, you'll definitely need one by the end." So I was more equipped to help classmates for whom this was a wholly new experience.

In my opinion, the healthy way to approach the problem of A Person You're Not Good At Helping is to practice humility, set reasonable boundaries, recognize the limits of your competence, and see where you can learn and grow. But many therapists and helping professionals use what I consider to be an unhealthy approach, labelling such clients as "defensive" and "resistant" and "hard to treat" and blaming them for the difficulty.

Which like, I get that "practicing humility" is like "doing exercise", sometimes you're tired and cranky and don't want to go for a run. Sometimes you just want to blame the other person for not accepting your magnanimous help.

Anyway, within the field of mental health psychotherapy, complex trauma is a unique sub-speciality that many therapists don't want to touch at all. I had many classmates say, "Woof, you're into complex trauma? You must be so tough, I could never." 🙄

(Technically I have the ethical obligation to represent my profession in the best possible light to encourage public confidence in the field of psychotherapy. But I think it's not undermining the profession to admit what everyone already knows, which is that some therapists are oblivious assholes who do bad work. I've seen it, I've met them, I want them to piss off forever. Jordan Peterson is a blight to our names and Phil McGraw can go choke.)

So people who are on your wavelength about BPD and trauma and What Therapists Are For are out there. They're just a little rarer than the usual run of therapists. For what it's worth, I've found they cluster more in areas like complex trauma, DBT, Narrative Therapy, and the Hearing Voices Movement. Next year (knock on wood) I'l be going to a conference on the treatment of complex trauma with a friend, and this sounds weird given that it's a weekend all about child maltreatment, but I expect it to be a blast, because I'll get to be among My People, talking about the work that fills our souls.

I really wish that as an undergrad, I'd spent more time hanging out with Social Work students, and going to conferences and trainings. Those are where I met some of the coolest people I really clicked with. And in grad school, I had the extreme pleasure of meeting other people who were a lot like me. Those friendships were especially rewarding because as skilled helpers, we ended up playing a game of Needs Chicken, where each tries hide their own needs and caretake for the other, which finally ended up in a standoff where we had to agree to put down our caretaking skills and just be honest about what we wanted, even if that felt new and scary and raw.

(Support me: Patreon and Paypal.)

[barsformars]

reaction: when you bite them out of the blue; ateez

req: can I request for a ateez reaction where you randomly bite them and then giggle if they get surprised? :D thank you!

a/n: thank you for requesting! hope you enjoy it even though they are more like word vomits rather than reactions. also i tried working the giggling part into some but some don't have it, hope you're fine with that!

taglist: @closer-stars @jeongyunhoed @fairyofdusk

genre - fluff, suggestive | pairing - ateez x reader | warnings - food mention (yunho), bathing together (mingi), mention of a possible zombie apocalypse (jongho)

⭒❃.✮:▹ seonghwa

you were on the subway with seonghwa after a long day doing whatever couples do and you were just, plain exhausted. seated right next to your lover, and with his broad shoulders poking into your 'territory', you had two choices in your mind.

do you want to lay your head on his shoulder, or do you want to chomp on it? unfortunately for seonghwa, you find resting your head on shoulders rather uncomfortable. so, without a care in the world for the other commuters around, you leaned down and caught the edge of your lover's shoulder with your mouth, causing him to jump a little in his seat, his attention now drawn away from his phone.

"what are you doing?" seonghwa didn't mean it in a hostile way, he was just surprised, and very rightfully so.

"im tired," you answered with a slight giggle. this made the boy furrow his eyebrows in confusion, which only caused you to giggle even harder, turning some heads in your direction.

"are you trying to eat my shoulder to gain some energy then?" seonghwa laughed, finding your actions rather adorable.

you shook your head. "no, im asking for some attention so i don't fall asleep right now." seonghwa rolled his eyes playfully at your reply, knowing just exactly what you meant, and went in for a peck on your lips. he would stay there for a little longer but it would be rather rude for the people witnessing it.

"now, that should keep you awake."

⭒❃.✮:▹ hongjoong

hongjoong's always busy. if he's not in the practice room dancing to the same few tunes up to ten hours at a time nearing comeback week, then he would be in his studio pressing on the many buttons that even after months you still can not tell apart its functions. if even that was not it, he was in his dorms, cooped up in his room, either playing around with some old clothes at the corner of his closet or reading a new book he had picked up at the bookstore down the street of where he gets 45% of his fashion accessories from.

"so when do you have time for me?" you asked with a pout, rather upset that even after inviting you to hang out in his studio he was still caught up with work.

"just five more minutes, i promise," hongjoong said, cupping your face with both of his hands, the cold metal rings adorning his slender fingers almost causing you to shake him off.

"you said that five minutes ago." you shot a glare at him before turning your head slightly to the side, and without warning, bit gently on the fleshy part of his right palm.

his eyes opened wide at you, that was the last thing he would ever expect anyone to do. "babe, what..." he tried to pull his hand out but you refused to let go, not until you heard what you wanted to hear.

"okay, okay, im sorry. ill stop work now," hongjoong finally relented. your bite wasn't painful but he would rather you not. he sighed as he saved his work and got off his chair, extending out his hand to help you off the couch.

"next time i want something, im using that back on you."

⭒❃.✮:▹ yunho

you and yunho have a movie night together once every two weeks, regardless of what the both of you actually get down to that night, the movie night will always happen. usually, yunho would grab a few snacks and drinks from the convenience store just right below the company but he had completely forgotten that it was movie night until he was already on the way back to his dorms. so not only was he late to arrive at your place, he also came empty handed.

"im hungry," you whined, your stomach growling. you couldn't focus on the movie like that, but you didn't have any food at home and the nearest convenience store wasn't really at a convenient distance.

"im sorry about that, let's get food delivered." yunho was quick, his food delivery app already opened, the wide array of choices displayed on the screen.

"i might just pass out from hunger by the time the food arrives," you sighed, laying your head on his abdomen. it was currently the peak hour for food delivery.

yunho was just about to pat your head lovingly when you went ahead and bit down on his lean abs, surprising yunho so much so that he pushed on your forehead so that you were now staring at him in his eyes. "do that again and you might pass out from something else."

⭒❃.✮:▹ yeosang

yeosang was scrolling through twitter while you were on tiktok, watching videos after videos of horror tiktoks. you can't say that you aren't deathly afraid of them, but you're always too intrigued to not watch them. yeosang, on the other hand, would just prefer seeing what his fans were up to. but being as sweet as he is, he offers you a hand to hold as emotional support. said hand went from simply being held, to getting squeezed, then pulled, dug in with your fingers, all as they slowly travelled up to your chin. he doesn't mind, after all, he likes it when you fiddle around with his hands.

but what he didn't expect at all, was for you to bite on his fingers. it was definitely a mistake on your part, you had meant to bite on your own fingers but forgot that you were holding his hand. yeosang yelped out in pain, quickly pulling his hand away from you, who was looking at him quite guiltily.

"oh my god, im so sor-"

"oh my god." yeosang stared down at his phone screen, eyes even wider than when you had bit him as his pupils dart around, unsure of what to do now.

"what's wrong?"

"i liked a fan's tweet by accident...." this was exactly why you had told yeosang to stop using the official ateez account.

"quick, unlike it!" you told him as you burst into laughter at his carelessness.

"hey! it's your fault, you don't get to laugh!"

⭒❃.✮:▹ san

with his hair being too long to be let down comfortably, san has started to tie it up into a little ponytail whenever he can. you find it adorable, there really was a reason why people call it the 'apple hair'. everytime you walk past him when his hair is up, you can't help but to smack the ponytail. you have done it so many times that san has absolutely no reaction to it anymore, just letting you do as you please.

however, while walking pass him today, you felt this urge to bite, not the hair, but his head. don't ask questions, it happens. you hesitated for a moment, wondering if you should just do the usual and then leave. but once you saw how his little ponytail shook, you couldn't stop yourself. you leaned down and bit on him softly.

now, that, that gave san the shock of his life. he whipped his head around and gave you a questioning look. it didn't hurt, but..."why did you do that?" it made you giggle.

"nothing, i just wanted to." you shrugged your shoulders before patting him gently at the spot you had bit him. right as you were about to leave, he gripped onto your wrist and pulled you back.

"you bend down," he ordered, his other arm holding onto the chair as he twists his body towards the back.

"w-what?" but you bend down anyways, only to feel a bite on your head as well.

"i wanted to as well," san said as he broke into a smile, the corners of his eyes lifting up to resemble a cat eye eyeliner. "nyam."

⭒❃.✮:▹ mingi

"hey, would you scrub my back for me?" mingi asked rather shyly, handing you the body scrub without turning back too much.

"yea of course." the two of you were too close to even be shy over something like that, but leave it up to your soft-hearted giant to feel so.

once you were done helping him, you passed the body scrub back to mingi so that he could place it on the shower rack, pressing your chest onto his back. "you smell so good," you told him, burrowing your nose into his neck as your arms wrapped around his waist.

"good news is, you smell the same," mingi chuckled, his hand going up to caress your face as he tilts his head to rest it on yours.

"i wanna see you."

"nope."

well, if he doesn't want to turn around, you will make him. with that, you gave him a quick bite on his shoulder, one that wasn't too hard but enough to leave a slight impression on his skin. it made him yelp out in pain, and more importantly, whip his head around to see what you were up to. then, you swooped in and landed a wet kiss on his plump lips. you merely saw the opportunity and took it, he can't blame you for that.

"i-" he was at a loss for words and that made you giggle, the giggles becoming louder the more he struggled to form sentences.

"oh no, you're going to get it from me, babe."

⭒❃.✮:▹ wooyoung

you have been eyeing him since this morning, and if you think he hasn't noticed, then you're the stupid one here. wooyoung also knows exactly why you were staring at him like a predator to its prey. he was wearing a tank top, his biceps on full display. it has become a more common sight in their recent stages but he never wears them around you, whatever his reason was.

"you want to touch it, don't you?" he said in a teasing tone as he flexed his arm muscles right in front of your eyes. it took every ounce of energy in you to not nod, not wanting to give in to him that easily. he would never stop teasing you. "you're acting indifferent but you looked so, should i say, hungry, the whole day."

"i have better things to do than to stare at you." you turned away from him and his muscular arms. it was the best thing to do right now, for both his and your sake.

"better things as in, imagining how it would feel, i bet."

"jung wooyoung,"

"hm?"

"bring your arm closer."

"see, i knew it." no he didn't, because he almost sent a punch to your face when you chomped down on his biceps. and he probably would have if you weren't looking at him with such innocent eyes.

"that's what you wanted to do?" wooyoung asked in disbelief. he had totally underestimated you and your, 'thirst'.

"okay, pay back time. give me your arm."

⭒❃.✮:▹ jongho

"are you busy right now?" you asked as you entered his room, not knocking since the door was already wide open.

"not really, just doing some online shopping," he replied, his eyes still not leaving his screen. he has been stuck in his seat for a few hours already. you shook your head, not knowing how he could even shop for so long. "do you want to get something too?"

"no. and that's lame-" you dragged his chair away from his desk-"come do something fun with me." jongho narrowed his eyes at you, your definition of fun was not the same as his. you tend to have some bizarre ideas on how to entertain yourself. but he couldn't refuse you, besides he probably should get out of his seat by now.

"what do you need me for?"

"just stand back facing me," you directed before you went on to explain. "so i was watching some zombie apocalyptic movies, right?" jongho already had a bad feeling about this but he won't even try to question it. "we have similar pain tolerance, correct?" he nodded. "okay good, i just want to know how painful my death would be in a zombie apocalypse."

jongho really wanted to put you on pause and question just what was going through your head at the moment but you were too fast, already biting down on his shoulders, more specifically his trapezius muscles. it hurts, and it hurts bad. you did not show mercy at all, it was as if you had turned into a blood hungry zombie yourself.

"what the f-" he held himself back from spitting vulgarities out at you. because he has a much better plan on how to get back at you.

"i want to try something out as well...." oh no, you better run for your life.

[criminalmindzjunkie]

I Carry Your Heart With Me (Prologue)

Summary: When your college roommate asks you to be a bridesmaid at her wedding, you pack your bags and jump on a flight to Montana. What was supposed to be a relaxing week on the husband-to-be’s ranch is turned upside down when an old flame decides to make an appearance. Mix in lingering feelings, a meddling bride, and the mother of all misunderstandings, and your week out west turns out to be a whole lot more than you bargained for.

series masterlist

playlist

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of alcohol, mentions of sex

Word Count: 2.5k

           Spencer gets the email on a Tuesday.

           He’s fresh off of a quick trip to a nearby café that sells the most delectable scones, and he’s eagerly unwrapping one and lifting it to his mouth when he gets the notification. The quiet ping is enough to make him pause with the scone midway to its destination.

Because the thing is, Spencer Reid doesn’t get a lot of emails. In fact, there are approximately ten people that even know his email address, and seven of them are currently in the same room as him. Spencer peers over the top of his monitor and scans the room. No one is doing anything indicative of having sent Spencer yet another prank email (thanks a lot, Luke), so he deems it safe and clicks on the email icon.

           As it boots up, Spencer takes a bite of his scone. The warm, sugary dough tastes like heaven in his mouth, once again proving to Spencer that the fifteen-minute walk there is more than worth his time. He’s mid-swallow when his inbox pops up on the screen, and when he sees the all too familiar name on the sender’s address, he inhales a sharp breath that leaves him choking on his pastry.

Mr. and Mrs. Charles Melville

Mr. and Mrs. Jonathan Sewell

Joyfully request the pleasure of your company at the marriage of their children

Cassidy and Mason

Saturday, the twenty-seventh of May

Two thousand nine-teen

           His choking fit garners the attention of every one of his colleagues, but Spencer can’t bring himself to care. All he can focus on is sucking in as much air as possible in between coughs. It doesn’t help that his oxygen deprived brain is currently reeling. Long suppressed memories are fighting their way to the surface, and now it’s not only his lungs that are engulfed in a searing heat, but his heart, too.

           Cassidy Sewell. A fiery, opinionated redhead that Spencer hasn’t thought of in nearly fifteen years. But Cassidy isn’t the reason that he feels like a knife has been thrust into his ribcage, nor is she the reason he is currently aspirating his scone. The basis of his distress is another woman entirely.

           Spencer eventually regains control of his windpipe and when he does, he rereads the email several times. It’s wonderful news - really, it is. And he’s happy for Cassidy. His memories of her are plentiful and he thinks back on them fondly. The only problem is that he knows wherever Cassidy is, you’ll be there, too.

           He really should just delete the email and go on about his business - that would be the smart thing to do. But Spencer’s never really been smart when it comes to you, so he does the worst thing possible and clicks on the ‘view recipients’ button.

           And sure enough, your name falls just above his on the list.

           Which brings up another issue entirely; why is he receiving this email? And, more importantly, do you know that he’s been invited? Spencer can only come up with two possible answers to that question, and both are equally heartbreaking. Either you know he’s been invited and you’re indifferent to the fact, or you haven’t a clue and his showing up would be entirely inappropriate.

           He briefly entertains the possibility of a third option; one in which you knew he’d received an invitation and were hopeful that he might show up. Spencer allows this possibility to live in his mind for approximately two seconds before he’s stomping it out and killing it. That’s just… unlikely.

           “Ooh! Who’s getting married?”

           Spencer quickly exits out of his email and spins around in his chair to find Penelope pouting her lip out at him.

           “No one. Just a spam email,” Spencer lies. His efforts are in vain, however, because Penelope fixes him with an unimpressed glare.

           “I’m going to save you and I both the trouble of me hacking into your computer and offer you the opportunity to try that again.”

           Spencer visibly deflates and mentally curses the creators of the interconnected computer networks. He weighs his options. He could be completely honest and be subjected Penelope’s endearing, yet suffocating enthusiasm, or he could skim a little bit off the top and hope she doesn’t pump him for information.

           Spencer decides on the latter.

           “An old friend.”

           Penelope narrows her eyes at him and he shrinks under her gaze. She might not be a profiler, but she damn sure could be.

           “Then why do you look like you’re about to hurl?”

           ���No reason.”

           They’ve reached a stalemate, and Spencer isn’t quite sure what to do with that. Usually, if this were a chest match, Spencer would already have the upper hand. He’s not used to being backed into a corner. At first, Spencer’s sure that he can outlast Penelope’s inquisition, but the longer those seemingly omniscient eyes of hers bore into his own, he can feel his resolve crumbling into nothing. All it takes is her lifting one perfectly plucked eyebrow in challenge for him to break.

           “An ex-girlfriend of mine will be in attendance.”

           Spencer knows he’s fucked from the way Penelope’s entire face lights up upon hearing that little tidbit of information. In a flash Penelope’s dragging over an empty chair and seating herself directly in front of Spencer, eyes shining excitedly.

           “Tell me everything.”

           So, he does.

           And an hour later, Penelope is booking him a flight to Montana.

--

           “I cannot believe you did this to me,” you murmur into the receiver as you stare at your computer screen. Your eyes are zeroed in on the email, but all the words are blurring together into an intelligible mess. All except two.

           Spencer Reid

           “Correction; I did this for you,” Cassidy replies, sounding awfully pleased with herself. If you could see her, you were certain she’d be grinning ear to ear. “You can’t tell me that you’re not the least bit excited at the possibility of seeing him again.”

           “That is exactly what I’m telling you!” you groan as you throw your head against the back of your chair. “Fifteen years is a long time, Cass. I’ve moved on, and I’m sure he has, too. That door is closed.”

           Cassidy snorts, “Well open that sucker back up, because I just got an RSVP from one Doctor Spencer Reid who, and I quote, ‘cannot wait to see everyone.’ This RSVP came without a plus one, might I add.”

           You jolt up in your seat and instantly regret it when your stomach churns painfully as a result. Suddenly, your decision to place your waste basket on the opposite side of the room seems awfully ill advised. The only thing keeping you from lunging for it and expelling the contents of your stomach is the fact that he isn’t bringing anyone with him, which is… something.

           “He’s coming?” you squeak out. “Why would he do that?”

           Another laugh from Cassidy floats out through the speaker.

           “Well, I’d like to think he might be going to see one of his oldest and dearest friends get married, but I think we both know that this has nothing to do with me, and a whole lot to do with you.”

           You’re just about to open your mouth to protest when a head of long, blonde hair peeks through the crack of your door. You only know one man with a head of hair like that, and that man just so happens to be the only other person in your life that lives for taking the piss at your expense. You can’t help but think that you must’ve done something terrible in a past life to be subjected to all of this before noon on a Tuesday morning.

           You wave Damien in, because why the hell not? He’d be hearing about it over one or several bottles of wine this evening, anyways. What was one more spectator to the worst moment of your entire adult life?

           As he takes his seat in a chair in front of your desk, you flash him a tight smile and turn your attention back to Cassidy.

           “You’re reading way too much into this. He probably doesn’t even remember me.”

           “You know that boy does not forget anything,” Cassidy points out.

           Yeah, you think, and that’s what makes not hearing from him for fifteen years even worse. That means the radio silence was a choice.

           “Doesn’t matter. You need to uninvite him. I’m being so serious right now.”

           “I absolutely will not. That’d be terribly rude of me,” Cassidy sniffs. “And you obviously have no choice but to attend, Miss Maid of Honor, so consider this your warning. I was going to keep this a secret, but Mason said that would be cruel. So.”

           You want to argue that the entire thing is cruel, but Cassidy’s indifference to your plight leads you to believe that your protest would fall on deaf ears. To make matters worse, Damien looks positively delighted at the prospect of something exciting happening. He’s literally sitting on the edge of his seat, leaning forward in an attempt to hear Cassidy’s end of the conversation.

           You really needed to pick more sympathetic friends.

           “I’m going to hang up now, because I physically cannot handle being a part of this conversation any longer.”

           “That’s the spirit!” Cassidy trills. “Trust me, you’re going to thank me for this later. Oh, and do yourself a favor and Google search him. You will not be disappointed!”

           At that, the line goes dead. You don’t even have the chance to say something embarrassing like too late, I already do that like twice a year, which is probably a good thing.

           You slam down the phone and let your head fall into your hands, adding in a dramatic groan for good measure. Usually, you like to think you’re a little more level headed, but the Spencer Reid sized hole in your heart that you’d been trying to mend for the last decade and a half was just ripped wide open, so you figure you deserve a moment to panic.

           Damien, however, doesn’t share that same belief.

           “I get that you’re trying to have a moment, and I respect that, but you know how impatient I get and I haven’t seen you this upset since One Direction split up. Color me intrigued. What did dear Cassidy do to get your knickers in such a twist?”

           You lift your head and fix him with a withering look.

           “She invited Spencer.”

           That wipes the smile right off of Damien’s face.

           “Oh, fuck,” Damien swears. Finally, someone understands how extremely not okay this situation is. You let out another despairing groan. “What are the chances he’s actually going to show up?”

           You chuckle bitterly, “Pretty fucking high, if you consider the fact that he already RSVP’d any indication.” You push away from your desk and begin to pace around the room, all while fanning your shirt out because holy hell did it get hot in here, or is it just you? “I mean, I could always back out. It’s Cassidy’s fault anyways. It’s not like she could hold that against me. She’s the one who did this, after all.”

           “Oh, she most certainly would. And you’re not going to going to skip out on the wedding - quit being so dramatic.”

            You snap your head to where he sits and narrow your eyes at him.

           “Oh, I’m not? Who’s gonna stop me?” you challenge.

           You can practically see the light bulb go on inside that blonde head of his. Damien gives you a saccharine smile and claps his hands together.

           “I am. Because I’m going to go with you,” he announces excitedly. You’d think he just came up with a way to end world hunger from the pride that’s practically radiating off of him in waves. 

           You raise an eyebrow at him, “You’re going to come with me? To Montana? Have you ever even been outside of New York?”

            Damien shrugs his shoulders.

           “No, but that’s about to change. Plus, weddings are fun,” Damien pauses, before tacking on, “-bridesmaids are fun.”

           If he weren’t such a damn good friend, you’d throw him out of your office.

           His proposition was tempting. Being in close proximity with Spencer for almost an entire week was going to be harrowing as it was, but add to that the inevitable sight of Spencer in a suit and harrowing graduates to fucking excruciating. Having Damien in your corner to keep you sane was more of a necessity than a want.

           But still, you hesitate, because the idea of both Cassidy and Damien conspiring against you for an entire week sounds like the undiscovered tenth circle of hell.

           Damien apparently senses your apprehension. He lets out an exasperated sigh and pushes up from his seat, walking over to where you stand and placing his hands on your shoulders.

           “I solemnly swear to be on my best behavior. You have my permission to fire me if I act up, Boss Lady.”

           Your shoulders slump under the weight of his hands.

           “You know I can’t fire you,” you grumble, pouting out your lip for dramatic effect. “If I fire you, then I’m stuck with fucking Brenda. And I doubt she’d be as agreeable a drinking partner as you.”

           Damien lets out a loud laugh and pulls you into his arms. You melt into his embrace, sighing in resignation. Might as well bring him along for the ride. It’s not like the situation could get any worse than it already is, right?

           “Brenda is the worst,” Damien agrees as he places a kiss to the top of your head. After basking in his warm embrace for several moments, you pull away and run a hand through your hair.

           “Okay. Okay,” you murmur, more to yourself than to Damien. “I can do this. Worst comes to worst; I can just avoid him. Five days isn’t that long. I can do five days.”

           Damien leans up against your desk and nods in agreeance.

           “Exactly. Five days, in and out – no big deal,” he breezes. Like the absolute bastard he is, he waits until you’re taking a sip from your travel mug before continuing. “And who knows? Maybe the two of you will pick up where you left off and have some slutty wedding sex.”

           Now, there’s coffee all over your white blouse and Damien’s laughing obnoxiously at your expense.

           “You did not just quote One Tree Hill at me,” you choke out between ragged breaths.

           Damien doesn’t waver under the weight of your death glare.

           “I so did. Best show of our time, truly. Chase hit the nail on the head with that one. Weddings are always an absolute bone fest - trust me. Something about all the proclamations of love and eternal commitment gets everyone all hot and bothered.”

           “There will be no slutty wedding sex,” you mutter as you dab at the coffee stain.

           “There will be if I’m going,” Damien trills as he pushes off of your desk and saunters to the door. “Don’t rule it out, babe. No need to miss out on all the fun!”

           You roll your eyes and toss the wadded-up paper towel at him. Damien is quick to shut the door, resulting in the paper towel hitting it with a wet plop.

           Damien’s absence leaves the room uncomfortably silent, save for the sound of your heart nearly beating out of your chest. You hesitantly lift your eyes back to your computer screen, and as irrational as it is, you pray that you’ll see that something has changed in the past ten minutes. Unsurprisingly, his name is still there, just below your own.

           You silently curse the tiny twinge of excitement you feel from seeing his name and exit out of the email.

           Five days, in and out. No big deal.

-

-

-

taglist: @is-this-even-important @evelyncade @usuck​ @m0rce1ddd​ @bauhousewife​ @whxt-to-write​ @spencerwaltergubler​ @lovesicksofi​ @idgafayiowf​ @shadyladyperfection​ @mercy-burning​ @sapphic-prentiss​

[mxvladdy]

I can't stress enough 'wows' in tve way you write along with the fact that it's you first few posts (i think? Pls correct me) can you do luci mammon and satan with a reader who takes naps bc of overthinking? They just tug their sleeves and shot them a tired look, while looking down shying away. Also, have a nice day and take the time to be yourself!

Aw thanks fam! I am fairly new to posting my works, I tried twice before this with two different writing blogs but I deleted them both bc I felt discouraged. I’m older now and I feel a lot better about my writing, so third time the charm and all that lol! I’m so glad you like my writing! I know I need some work on grammar and expanding my vocabulary.  

This was a super cute prompt ;.; I hope I did it justice!

Lucifer

He is a mix of jealous and pissed. He wishes he could fall asleep so easily when he gets inundated with too many things at once. But also- just don’t do that? Where were your manners?

He starts noticing your little peculiarity in class. Specifically that you tend to nod off in advance alchemy and rune scripting. You were being so studious, jotting down notes, ask great questions. Next thing he knows you're out like a light.

He is shocked for a moment before he will wake you up. Your wide doe-eyed frown does nothing to him. JK his hearts clench at your wounded look.

He makes the other brothers report to him about your behavior and odd sleep habit. Were you ill? Was this just something humans did? Devils, was Belphie rubbing off on you?

They all say the same thing. One moment you are working hard or talking to them about a topic you are passionate about, and the next you are yawning hard enough to pop your jaw and shyly asking to lay down.

Well-he can’t have that.

If you are going to fall asleep around anyone it’s going to be him.

He sets up remedial lessons with you after dinner to make up for the work slept through. You sit by him at his long ornate desk while he tutors you on what you missed.

You weren't having any problems,  you even finished a few pages. He is proud and then-

“I can almost hear those gears slowing my dear.” Lucifer interrupts himself mid-explanation of Zosimos of Panopolis and Maria the Prophetess's theories of alchemy in human medicine.

You jerk awake and turn to him blinking owlishly. "Yeah, I just need to lay down." You admit.

Lucifer eyes you critically. This was sudden, were you ill? You had been fine moments ago, bright-eyed and enthusiastic. He cups your face, turning it from side to side. "So suddenly? We haven't even discussed the properties of mercury yet." You hum letting your eyes droop. He was always so warm.

"Hour nap break? Please?" His stern gaze softens at how your nose scrunches up cutely as you yawn.

“Very well.” He relents letting you slick over to his couch. You flop over face first with a grunt of satisfaction. You toss and turn for a while, moving his pillows around unsatisfied.

“Luci-” You call in defeat. He ignores you at first. If you wanted to nap fine, he would get some work done in the meantime. “Luci~” You say again. You could see his brow twitching. “Lu-”

“My dear,” He shoots you a withering look. “You are treading a thin line. If you have the energy to call for me you have the energy to study.” You say nothing at his brisk tone, instead of opening your arms to him to join you. “You tempt me.” He purrs hiding his smile behind his paperwork.

“Learned from the best.” Lucifer shakes his head laughing at your smug reply. He glances over you to his grandfather clock. Hmmm-perhaps he could spare a few minutes. He rises elegantly discarding his tie and waistcoat to his abandoned chair. Running a hand through his hair he snorts at your little whistle.

“Move.” He commands. You shake your head patting your belly. “I will crush you.” He laughs but lays over you regardless.

“Good-you’re warm.” You say muffled in his shirt. Wrapping your arms around his middle you drift off. Lucifer holds you close, running a still gloved hand up and down your side. Perhaps he should bring out some more complex topics next time. If this was the outcome-

Mammon

He noticed you get drowsy before in class. Your cute little head jerks as you nod off, hands rubbing at your face as you fight to stay awake before giving in to the need to sleep. It was adorable- not that he was watching you because of that! He was just doing his job of looking out for you

Ye-that was all.

Honestly, he thought you were just like him. He never cared for the books being forced on him in class. Boring useless crap in his opinion. He much rather sleep through a lecture on stats too.

Now books on photography? That's where it's at. He has a legitimate passion for it.

He likes being behind the camera just as much as he likes being in front of it. Though he doesn't snap photos often.

He doesn't need more beratement from his brothers than he already gets. Sides, he just feels like they would look down at this like everything else he does.

He'll share his hobby with you though. You at least seem interested in it. He'll show you his collection of vintage to high-tech cameras and talk your ear off about the makes, models, and features.

You nod along and ask questions from time to time, smiling along with Mammon while he prattles on about color theory next to you on the floor.

He was just getting to Auguste Lumiére when he feels a gentle bump on his shoulder.

"O-oi!" Mammon starts, shaking his shoulder to rouse you. You look up at him, blinking the sleep from your eyes. "Was...was I that boring?" He deflates a little, all previous excitement gone in a flash. You had seemed so interested...

"What? Oh, no. No Mammon I'm sorry. It's really all fascinating," You grab for his sleeve so he couldn't run away. "It was just a lot of information all at once. I just got a bit overwhelmed."

"So you fall asleep?" He raises a brow not believing you for a second. Who falls asleep when something is interesting? He'll admit he's fallen asleep while listening to Levi talk about a new anime or Asmo with a make-up release.  But that's because it had been boring. "Is that like a human thing?"

You shrug snuggling closer. "I don't know- but it's a me thing. Give me five? I'd love to hear you talk more about your collection, promise."

Mammon glows scarlet at your words. "Of course you do!" He puffs out his chest excitedly. “I got great taste.” You nod into his shirt before drifting off again. He tilts his head slightly to look at you chuckling internally when your breathing and heartbeat slow down. Damn, out in seconds. Well, better get comfortable.

Uncrossing his long legs he picks up the camera he had been showing you. The old Polaroid lens reflects his face back at him. He remembered the day Land had debuted this marvel of engineering. He just had had to get his hands on one. It was useless now, he had much better quality cameras than this old thing, but he remembered you reminiscing about your human friends and their portable camera. Would you take some pictures with him too? He would take one now, but the sound of the flash would definitely wake you up.

He fiddles with it for a few more minutes, opening and closing the film canister and checking for any parts that needed fixing as he waits. You stir at his side a few minutes later with a little mew of satisfaction. Mammon hears your joints creak and pop as you stretch. "Morning." He says sarcastically, earning himself a light punch to his shoulder. "Ready to continue?"

You nod eagerly, perky and aware. At least for the moment.

Satan

He didn't really notice at first the pattern of your behavior.

You would come over for book club. Which was really just him reading his current novel and you picking something at random to gain a little random knowledge.

You would find a comfortable position on his bed, curl up nice and small and read. Then after a bit yawn and start to snooze.

He first thought it was the atmosphere of his room. It was quiet, warm, and the sound of flickering candles and the rustle of paper sometimes caused him to doze too.

But when it starts happening outside of class he notices.

Hmmm….this is new.

He looks it up in his human anatomy books and finds nothing.

He's not particularly worried about you per se. You always bounce back quickly after a quick snooze.

Then you start dozing when he is talking… >:(

Like his brother/dad he is a little miffed at first but then your behavior reminds him a cat and he loves you 10x harder now

Satan stops in his pacing of the back gardens. His book of poetry hanging limply in his hand. He had been reciting some of the most fascinating lines of work from Lord Byron's later works and wanted a human's perspective. He had thought you were interested. You never complained before when he asked you out here. Perhaps you were just being polite all those times before. Anything to soothe wrath. He snaps his book shut sharply, take some perverse satisfaction in the way you start out of your light sleep at the noise.

"Why'd you stop?" You ask wiping at your face.

"No point talking to someone that doesn't wish to listen." He snaps tersely.

"Oh-Satan, no I was listening. It...it just got to be so much so fast." You flush. “You had some great points going, I just needed a minute.” He watches your eyes grow heavy again, and it dawns on him.

"Do you just sleep when overwhelmed?" He asks incredulously. In all his years with humans, this was new. You shrug making grabby hands for him to move closer. He scoffs but moves into your space. You grab at the hem of his shirt and pull him down to sit next to you. He goes willingly getting comfortable by your side. You eye his lap longingly, hands clutching around his coat sleeve. “Fine-” He rolls his eyes. “Come here you odd thing.” You smile in triumph and crawl into his lap. Once settled you nuzzle into his warm chest.

“Wake me up in ten? I want to hear more about your conversations with Byron.”

“I’ll hold you to it.” He kisses the top of your forehead, opening his book to read again with one hand. You hum at his soft kiss, returning it sleepily with one of your own before passing out again. Ten minutes go by in an instant and Satan looks down at your peaceful face. He smiles to himself, perhaps he’ll let you sleep for a little while longer. You’d need it for his next point.  

[reginarubie]

Jon and Sansa do end up together, but— Another one of Sansa's exes.

I just realized although I put it on ao3, I never posted here the third installment of the Jon and Sansa do end up together, but— let's see them from their exes' POV. Or if I have, it has gotten lost in the posts and I can't find it anymore.

Sorry for the delay, in case I did not post it, so here you have it (can read it on ao3, here).

Anyway, here it is, the third part of the Jon and Sansa through their exes' eyes. This time it's again through one of Sansa's exes (or, maybe's) and I think it's very sweet altogether, so I hope you enjoy. 

This one features also Robb Stark (in his groomzilla and proud brother era), a quipping, sarcastic Arya Stark and a lovely Jeyne Poole.

It’s time to face the truth [I’ll never be with you]

Podrick~

The first time Pod sees Sansa Stark, it’s by chance. It wouldn’t even be correct to say he actually saw her, it was more like a glimpse. After having spent half of his life at Lannisport and the other half at Kings Landing Pod had yet become accustomed at how things were done in the north. 

The people here are less accommodating to strangers, southerner they call him, in a derogatory manner; everyone seems suspicious of him, yet when he had walked into a bar the other night and gotten excited over a rugby game the people of his neighborhood had warmed up to him — even though he keeps for an opposing team. 

But, where the people are less accommodating to strangers, the nobility is much more approachable than in the South. Lady Arya and lord Rickon Stark, for example, are both athletes and they usually hang out — or so the press seems to say — in bars and hostels with their own people, wearing ripped jeans and t-shirts, or sweats and sweatpants. Easygoing and approachable. 

Lord Stark and lady Stark are often seen together, just taking a stroll in the market, speaking with the people, letting them shoot photos, just listening to them. 

Lord Stark is the kind of man you’d have a pint with!, one of the men at the bar says often, to which an old half-homeless man will reply he actually did drink a pint with the lord of Winterfell one night, ten years ago. 

Lord Brandon is the most secluded of the Starks, possibly due his condition. Though he can often been seen during official outings, or with his mother during their meetings for charity. Though often the tabloids post about him and his two long-time friends, Meera Reed and Jojen Reed, both from the small nobility. 

Lord Robb, the heir to Winterfell, is instead known for his kind manner and good spirit. He is at college where he is working to get his degree in art and history, instead of business or economics, or law like everyone was expecting him as the heir to Winterfell.

Lord Robb drives every other weekend from college to be present to the matches of his brother’s rugby team. It is a family date, everyone will be present and then they would head to Hot Pie’s Place and they would offer a round to everyone present. 

Lady Sansa, the second oldest, looks every inch the lady, always prim and proper. She has just started her own degree in law and is often seen either alone or with her mother in charge of charities or visiting the ill or the homeless. She flies to the Riverlands every other month to visit with her old grandfather and meet a few friends. There had been a time the tabloids had been extremely interested in lady Sansa’s love life, like when she had a relationship with Joffrey Baratheon, or when there were rumors of a love story with her best-friend’s ex, Ramsay Bolton. But at some point the tabloids had stopped speaking of it altogether. 

“Sing a song lady Sansa!” someone had shouted and that had gotten his attention as he exited his train, he had followed the crowd to find Sansa Stark sat near an homeless man who was strumming on an old, overused guitar. She had been singing softly some song about Florian and Jonquil. 

Pod had been late so he had not lingered, but he remembers thinking she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his life — and he had seen Cersei Lannister, who the tabloids had nicknamed the Light of the West for her beauty — because there was an elegance to her that sparkled through her clear eyes. 

He had truly met her a couple of years after that chance sighting. Pod had been working under doctor Brienne of Tarth for four months putting his degree to good use and helping under one of the best in his sector. 

He knew Brienne of Tarth had been appointed with the support of lady Catelyn Stark at the head of the association and since then Brienne had, had an in with the Starks which had meant publicity for their work, charities thrown in their name and all kind of supports the Starks could give them; so it didn’t surprise him when she told him that they would receive a noble visit later in the week. 

When the day came he had expected lady Stark or perhaps even lord Brandon — he had met both already a month before — instead when the doorbell rang and he urged the elderly to see who it was at the door he felt himself go blind as his eyes fell on the beaming smile of lady Sansa Stark. 

“Good morning,” she greets, her voice soft, the smile evident in her tone “I was wondering if you have space for two more today” she offers with that easygoing smile that she shares with all of her siblings. 

As she said so she steps to the side and exposes her older brother, lord Robb Stark. Both of them have the red hair and the blue eyes of the Tullys of Riverrun, and they seem to brim with happiness as the men and women start clapping and cheering them all. 

He realizes Lady Sansa was still waiting for his reply when he turns to her and she is smiling questioningly to him, he blushes to the roots of his dark hair, his neck burning as his ears as he stumbles over his words to let them inside, apologizing. Lord Robb gives him a pitying look and a pat on the shoulder as he passes him by “Don’t worry, my sister tends to have that effect,” he says to him chuckling as both turned to look at lady Sansa, already greeting each and every man and woman in the room as well as Brienne. 

He learned that day that lady Sansa is an habitué and that she will often bring along one of her siblings, but that today she has chosen her brother Robb — kind of wrestled me out of my wedding plans — as the activity of the day is finger painting and lord Robb has just graduated from college, his degree in art and history received with the best grades. So it kind of is his field. 

Lady Sansa sits with the elderly, listens to their stories, holds them as they are overcome with emotion, compliments their bravery and their art, comments on how well she found them since her last visit. Made them feel loved. Shares with them some of her experiences at college and makes fun of her brother, affirming in this equation he has become the groomzilla of the couple. 

Pod is in awe.

“So you are Podrick,” she corners him in a moment of pause as she gets herself some water as her brother helps an old woman with arthritis to finger paint “Brienne always speaks highly of you”

That Brienne would speak of him, let alone with nobility left him feeling suddenly embarrassed. Lady Sansa listens raptly as he replies to all her questions, where did he come from?, why did he took this career path when most people tend to focus on the young instead of the elderly. Pod feels like her entire focus was not him.

It makes him feel truly seen and appreciated.

“Thank you, Podrick,” she tells him, her voice coiling with warmth “Thank you for what you’re doing here” 

***

He meets lady Sansa several other times after that first time, and he would even consider them kind of friends. Lady Sansa has taken his e-mail and often sends him links to activities he might be interested in, or simply to check in on him and the bureau. 

He doesn’t dare hope more. Though his heart skips a beat or two every time she looks at him, or smiles his way. Lord Robb teases him mercilessly about it too, every time he comes with his sister. 

Lord Rickon and lady Arya — who he met briefly only once — just rolled their eyes and waggled their eyebrows in his direction. 

Lord Bran who comes around quite often with his sister teased him as well about it, though he seemed kinder about it. Like he found endearing his evident crush on his sister, a crush she didn’t seem to have noticed either. 

Sansa even invited him out, a friend-lunch-date, they spoke of his plans for the future, for his plans in taking a more important role at the bureau for the elderly under Brienne.

“Brienne says you’re ready,” she had commented sipping on her mineral water. 

“Brienne laments I’ve been ready since I’ve arrived, she has way too much faith in my abilities”

“Don’t try to be modest,” Sansa had chastised him “Brienne is not the type to offer empty compliments. If she says you’re ready to take on more, she truly thinks it”

It’s only one of the several time they meet, lady Sansa is always kind and supporting. A real friend, to the point Podrick is even afraid of trying and take a step more — like even only take her hand as they walk — as he doesn’t want to ruin their friendship. 

Things starts to change when lady Sansa invites him over to Winterfell for lord Robb’s nameday. Then Podrick starts to wonder if he really could have, beyond any fear, a chance with her. 

A true fairytale coming alive before his very eyes. And it could be his life. 

Lord Robb greets him in good humor with his fiancé, Jeyne Westerling, hanging at his side. Several other friends are present, the teammates of lord Rickon, as well as the guys and girls on lady Arya’s fencing team, some colleagues and college friends of lord Robb. Lord Brandon inseparable friends.

Lady Sansa best friend, Jeyne Poole, a girl kind with big brown eyes and a loving smile, is also present. Her eyes are sad, like she’s seen too much. It makes her smile all the more beautiful and heartbreaking for it. 

She is kind of quiet and in the midst of what is a social event in full swing — for however private it’s still the nameday of the heir to Winterfell — and lady Sansa — just call me Sansa by now, Pod — the social butterfly that she is, is basically helping her mother play hostess with grace and elegance. 

“So,” Jeyne asks him nursing her non-alcoholic drink “how long have you had this crush on Sans?” 

It is rude and unpolite, it makes Pod choke on his own drink “I beg your pardon?”

“Everyone with two functioning eyes would see it,” Jeyne says, not unkindly, just matter-of-factly shrugging “it is a wonder she’s so dense sometimes” 

“I—” he stumbles with his own words unable to get them out “we’re friends” 

“Yes, I can see that. She must care for you a great deal if she has invited you to a private party,” Jeyne admits “Sansa is just like that, generous and straightforward with her affection” 

Podrick can do nothing but agree “My fondness for her it’s— I don’t have any bad intentions” he assures her. Jeyne Poole burst out in a laugh.  

“I am sorry,” she tells him seeing his affronted expression “I promise I am not laughing at you,” she says “is just… it’s clear you’re a good man, Podrick Payne. Sansa has had her share of bad men,” she sighs “and I find it cute that you’d think we’d let you this close to Sansa if we thought you were intending to harm her”

“Everyone!” Sansa’s voice saves him from finding a reply to that “all lights out!” 

“Roger-roger that!” lord Rickon exclaims doing a poor imitation of a military salute to his sister as the room is plunged into darkness and a cloth hung from the ceiling.

Sansa fumbles around for a little bit and then a big grin blooms on her face “Jon!” there is static and all of sudden the projector comes alive and a man appears on the cloth’s surface.

“Say hello to everyone!” Sansa sing-songs, her voice ringing like bells. 

The man is covered from head to toe in the black furlined winter uniform of the Nights Watch with a wool cap over his head, some curls hanging low and framing his face, his beard well trimmed and his cheeks reddened either from the cold or because he kind of looked timid. 

“Hello everyone” he sounds almost like a dying whale, which is exactly what lady Arya Stark told him bluntly, provoking the general hilarity. 

“Robb, mate” this Jon says, instead of addressing the comment “I am sorry I couldn’t make it, but as you can see I’m still stuck in the Lands of Always Winter,” he tells them gesturing around himself “just to make this video call Sansa had to pull a couple of strings” 

There is wetness in lord Robb’s eyes as he twists  to look at his sister, who blows him a kiss. 

“Anyway, sorry I have to miss your nameday, mate, I’ll be there for the wedding, I promise” 

“Remember Snow, you better keep your promises or I will unleash Rickon on you” lord Robb threatens wetly. Podrick wonders if he will actually be overcome by emotions. 

“I’ll do my best, Stark” the other man replies, there is some more static “anyway, the line doesn’t hold very well or long so, here, mate— happy birthday” and he maneuvers the camera so that it looks at the sky and the northern lights shining into the darkness to everyone’s awe. 

Sansa is holding her hands to her heart as awe paints her face and a smile curls at her lips. 

Later, when everyone has been shown to a room where they could stay or went home Podrick is sitting on a swing with Arya Stark as she and her friends spoke loudly about sports, Pod finds himself fitting right in. 

He sees how touched lord Robb was at the video call and asks lady Arya if this Jon is a cousin or a relative. 

“Jon?” she asks “Jon’s family. He is Robb’s best friend, has been since they’ve been what like five? Sansa how old where you when Jon started to come around?”

Podrick hadn’t even noticed Sansa, who is currently being squeezed an inch from her life, by the eldest Stark. She rises her head from lord Robb’s chest and looks thoughtful for a moment “I think you were like one or two,” she comments “I was around four I believe” 

“So an age ago!” Arya Stark teases “no wonder you have those wonderful crows feet!”

“Oi! You’re only two years younger than me!” Sansa exclaims falling into an easy banter with her sister. 

***

It is months before Pod actually finds the courage to decide to ask Sansa out to a date, he wants everything to be perfect, from the very moment in which he would ask her which would’ve been during one of her visits — solo visit this time around, he checked — to the bureau for the elderly. 

When the doorbell rings Pod springs to his feet, for the general hilarity of the old people, to go and answer the door.

“Hello!” Sansa exclaims, her beam was somehow brighter than it usually is, she is holding her arm strangely behind herself, as if gripping something or someone “stop being shy!— I hope you don’t mind, I’ve brought a friend over” she says, the fondness evident in her tone as she tugs at the wrist just beyond Pod’s sight. 

When a grumbling Jon Snow enters in his line of sight Pod feels the world shift “Stop manhandling me,” he tells her, but without heat, just in fond annoyance.

“Then stop being so stubborn, everyone is going to love you to bits,” Sansa replies and for a moment they look completely lost in their own little bubble, then it is Sansa who burst the bubble “Jon this is my friend Podrick, the one I told to you about. Pod this is Jon”

My friend Podrick.

This is Jon, as if this Jon doesn’t need any other qualifications beyond being himself to be worthy to stand by her side. Like she doesn't need to specify with him.

It makes something ugly coil in Pod’s stomach. Something surprisingly similar to jealousy. Jon Snow holds out his hand to him, his face schooled in an expression of confidence, seriousness at his brow. 

“Pleased to meet you,” Jon Snow says as Pod shakes his hand. He has a good, firm handshake “I am sorry Sansa sprang me on you all”

“As if!” Brienne intervenes “Any friend of lady Sansa is a friend to us all!” she exclaims and the elderly echo her. Sansa’s smile is full of mirth as she goes around her usual business. 

Jon Snow is more reserved than Sansa is, quiet and timid, but there is fondness shining in his eyes as Sansa urges him to join her. He’s a good listener and the ladies are smitten with him. 

“Jon is very brave,” Sansa is telling one of them “he was a ranger of the Nights Watch,” she says warmly “but he has chosen to step down from the active missions to be a diplomatic liaison” she explains. 

“Oh you’ve seen many wildlings?” one of the women asks. 

“I did, ma’am, though they prefer to be called Free Folk” he replies politely “they are not so different from us, after all,” he states “they’re very loud” he says almost as an afterthought, as if something pains him. 

Sansa, emphath that she is, covers his hand on his lap and squeezes it gently but firmly. Jon Snow seems to draw comfort by it and looks up to her with a soft smile.

It’s that smile that makes Pod hit the brakes. The backlash almost breaking his heart.

Sansa blushes at that smile. He has never seen her blushing at him, though she did make him blush more than once. 

“Jon is considered a Free Folk-friend,” she tells them “they trust him,” she adds.

In her voice Jon Snow seems amazing. 

Pod wonders if Jon Snow knows that he is amazing in her eyes.

They move like an unit, Pod can’t help but notice, like they are so comfortable around each other that they don’t need to look at one another to know where the other is and move accordingly. It’s kind of astounding to watch. 

“Sansa speaks always highly of you,” Jon Snow tells him at one moment when he gets a little bit of respite from speaking. He seems like he might unravel any given moment “she seems to genuinely like you”

“I like her as well” he doesn’t know why it sounds so bitten out. Jon Snow doesn’t seem surprised by it. 

“I know,” is his surprising reply, he doesn’t say anything else and that spurns Pod to look up to his face. Try to read his expression, but he is unreadable. The only thing he can read as clear as a day on his face is his love for Sansa. 

He genuinely loves her.

Pod knows that expression is not reflected in his own eyes. He likes Sansa, but he does not look at her like she makes the world bloom around her, even though she does. 

He likes her, he suddenly realizes, like one is supposed to like a painting, or something beautiful but out of their grasp. What he sees reflected in Jon Snow’s eyes as he meets Sansa’s blue ones, that’s raw and that’s real.

He has no doubt Jon Snow could name every single little quirk Sansa has, every quality and every flaw, all shadowed by how powerfully he really loves her. As a person, not as the personality.

Later when the elderly ask for a song, Sansa indulges them and Pod can see Jon Snow drumming his fingers at the steady tempo Sansa’s humming at. And when they put on some music to dance whilst Sansa dances with him too, she persuades Jon Snow to dance as well.

“I am a terrible dancer” he reminds her.

“Don’t lie,” Sansa quips “I remember you took Arya to her dance lessons and that you fenced as well. Fencing requires the same grace and swiftness as dancing, just follow the sway”

And sway they do. It’s… breathtaking to watch as the first genuine smile tugs at the corners of Jon Snow’s lips as he decides to completely forego the music beat and hoists Sansa across his chest and swings her around making her giggle like a little girl. Full of mirth. 

A soft lady and her knight. That’s the way they look.

It’s tender the way that, when he relents his hold on her, Sansa kisses his cheek and thanks him as the elderly applaud. 

Ah young love, breathes out one of the elderly patients, one with dementia and Sansa blushes and shushes Jon when he tries to explain himself. 

Pod knows then. Even as Sansa hugs him tight that evening. Even if by any chance Sansa would say yes, even if he did end up going out with her.

He’ll never be with her. Not really. 

Jon is her endgame. Might be Sansa doesn’t even know herself, but she looks at Jon like he lit the stars up just for her, even when he only offers a comment to her. 

She’ll end up with him, in the end. He can already see it. 

He doesn't know what to do then.

Sansa shines brightly and she's so beautiful, and he'd like nothing more but have a chance with her.

But asking her feels like a fraud.

It's not like Sansa isn't complete and lovable and shining without Jon, but with Jon she's more at ease, she's more herself than he has ever seen her being. Even if she did say yes to him, he would never be for her what she needs him to be. Who she needs him to be. He cannot be him. He doesn't even want to, to be frank. So he never does ask her out, and in the end the time for it is passed.

***

Months later he meets Jeyne Poole by chance whilst doing grocery shopping. Jeyne smiles to him softly and quips on how he should really try to survive with more than just pre-cooked meals. 

It is entirely on a whim that Pod asks her if she’d like to have dinner together, maybe teach him how to cook a couple of dishes.

He doesn’t know why he does it. Maybe because she feels realer than anyone else at the moment.

In the end Pod falls into a routine with Jeyne and one day, next time Sansa visits actually, she brings Jeyne along and serves him with a long, appraising look before matching them for every game they play all day long. 

Might be Pod might have wanted to ask Sansa out, once. Might be she could’ve said yes. Might be they could’ve been a couple, for a time.

Still Pod seems unable to see past Sansa’s persona, and her friendly character. 

Instead he argues with Jeyne continuously because she can be stubborn and willful and outspoken even when she's soft and pliant, and won’t apologize for it.

And every time they argue Pod finds himself asking himself why he would bother and every time, when he sees her name on his phone screen he calls, because he misses her. 

They become friends, real friends, he and Sansa.

Like friends who speak on the phone and share ice-cream and childhood stories and plan surprises party for their common friend, Jeyne. It’s Sansa who actually prompts him to gather courage and ask Jeyne out on a date. 

She says no. 

Then she grabs him by the hem of his coat and kisses him, squarely on the lips. 

“I don’t do dates,” she says “I don’t do boyfriends either,” she adds “not after—” her voice breaks “but I want to make it work with you”

It’s unconventional, but in the end Pod manages to make her fall in love with him, for real and then it’s Jeyne who asks him to marry her, one day, three years later. Sansa teases him mercilessly for it. 

He learns all that Jeyne suffered, some of what Sansa suffered. Some at the hands of the same man. He learns that Jon Snow had been there, every time, to pick Sansa back together from the ground and hold her back together until she felt like she could breath again.

Jeyne tells him when she asks him to marry him, he did the same for her, albeit unwittingly. Supported her even when he didn't know against what. Or whom.

Pod honestly feel like he needs a pint, or two after he learns the truth of what Jeyne went through and when he asks lord Robb about it, about him the man tells him they have resolved the matter, that he cannot harm either Jeyne nor Sansa anymore. That Jon made sure he would never could.

Pod doesn't want to know what happened. He doesn't care. He holds Jeyne more tightly that night, even as she breaks. And he finds the beauty even in her broken pieces. Perhaps even more in them.

***

Sansa can be so petulant at times, he discovers. It’s like watching a parallel universe once he understands the difference between the Sansa Stark persona and Sansa Stark the woman. 

He has just started to steadily go out with Jeyne when Sansa brings Jon Snow at one of her visits again. This time their fingers are interlocked together as they walk inside.

There is tenderness as Jon kisses Sansa’s temple, there is love as he nudges her toward each row of elderly. 

A smile soft on his lips as he watches Sansa speak excitedly of the new developments in her tireless work to have the North separate from the South and give the Free Folk back their land. 

“So,” this time, it’s Pod who does the cornering “you finally got the guts to ask her out?” 

Jon smiles enigmatically at him “Something like that” he says. Pod gets the feeling things might have been much more amusing than he thought in the beginning. 

“Honey?,” Sansa calls from somewhere in the other room, Jon blushes a bit beneath his well trimmed dark beard; Sansa walks inside and smiles brightly “what, are you hiding from me, now?”

It’s astounding, after having known Jon before, and having seen him in different settings how easily he moves to accomodate Sansa in his guard — a soldier remains a soldier, even when he retires — letting her slip through and caressing the back of her head gently, cupping it softly before pressing a featherlike kiss on her lips.

“Of course not, baby” he assures her “I was just catching up with Pod, here” he justifies.

Sansa cranes her head to look at him “Pod, are you trying to steal my boyfriend from me?” she demands with a laugh, a bit petulantly perhaps, but it’s all in good humor “what would Jeyne think?”

Pod laughs at that. 

They are sweet, and she’s beautiful, even more beautiful than she was before because she feels loved. 

Because she is loved.

And when Jeyne walks down the aisle, arm in arm with her mother, and preceded by her maid of honor, Sansa, her smile beams in the same way. Because Jeyne knows she is loved. Because she feels she's loved.

She looks like an angel, his Jeyne.

He dances with Sansa too at the reception of his and Jeyne's wedding.

“You know,” he tells her at one point, as he spins her “I had the oddest crush on you at one point” he admits. 

Sansa giggles “I know,” she says “I noticed. I liked you too,” she tells him “if you had asked I would've said yes” 

Pod makes her twirl around herself “We're better off as friends” he says and there is no bitterness there, there's actually relief and Sansa nods “Yeah, we are” she says “and you are Jeyne were made for each other”

Pod actually blushes a bit at that “And there you are, blushing like a pretty maid” she teases him, and it's only seeing the mischievous light in her eyes that Pod realizes with a startle “You did it on purpose!, all along” he accuses.

Sansa shrug elegantly “It was cute, how affected you were. I liked it” she winks at Jon as Pod spins her and actually shines the moment he cuts in to have a dance for himself. Jon blushes too when Sansa tells him he looks very handsome.

And Pod smiles looking at them, and he kisses Jeyne.

Might be Pod had a crush on Sansa Stark once. Might be Sansa might have said yes if he ever asked her out.

He ends up with the love of his life instead, just as Sansa does. For not knowing what to do, Pod thinks, he's done pretty well. He kisses Jeyne as Jon whisks Sansa on the dance floor for another dance and spins her around making her giggle like a little girl and kisses her lips.

Right it's Sansa who's blushing, but she's smiling too.

They are the center of their little world. And Pod, Pod has his own enclosed in the palm of Jeyne's hand.

Fin

[collecting-stories]

Marks - John B Routledge

Request: Hi would you be able to write something about John b (outer banks) were the reader and him have been secretly seeing each other and one day they are all one the boat and she's wearing one of his shirts over a bikini and the others see the marks???? Love your work btw and sorry if this makes no sense and it OK if you can do it and thank you 💛🌻🌼

A/N: So I hope this is what you wanted?? I like how it turned out.

Outer Banks Masterlist

///

No one knew where the unofficial rule of Pogue life in the Outer Banks had come from but you all agreed that it felt like it had been around forever. Was it something Kiara made up in seventh grade when boy/girl parties meant more pressure to kiss whoever the cutest person in the room was? Was it something someone else made up that was overheard and adopted? Had it been around for a long time? It was hard to say, all you did know was that the rule was the rule, no Pogue-on-Pogue macking, and the rule was sacred. It hadn’t been transcribed in stone by a burning bush but it might as well have been the way that everyone talked about it. Some people broke the rule but never your group.

You’d kissed tourons, a odd kook once at a party that you never spoke of again for fear of retribution, but never a Pogue. It was a stupid rule, honestly, but it’d helped you not make terrible decisions. Like when you and JJ got so high in ninth grade that you almost kissed him. But even in the haze the rule was the rule and you didn’t break it.  

“How am I supposed to get a boyfriend when the guys I’m allowed to like leave after two weeks?” You questioned, laying on the end of the HMS Pogue. It was this very conversation that had changed your opinion of the rule. Before that afternoon you followed like it was written law and you were afraid of burning in hell for breaking it.  

But as you turned your head to the side to look over at your friends, at John B steering the boat through the marsh, it suddenly occurred to you that your question wasn’t a vague observation but rather a specific wanting. You didn’t want any guy to be your boyfriend, you wanted John B. You must’ve looked at him a thousand times in your life, you’d known him through bad haircuts, the summer before high school when his face broke out, the year he only wore stupid graphic tee’s from five below, and ill attempted bucket hat phase. All the unpleasant, unattractive moments in life that were supposed to deter you from even thinking about him that way didn’t seem to matter when you gazed at him across the boat. Tanned, unruly hair getting a little close to too long, some ridiculous Hawaiian shirt that he had the inability to button correctly.  

“I’ll be your boyfriend.” Pope offered, handing you a beer.

You sat up to drink and gave him a skeptical look, “you going somewhere I don’t know about?”  

“No Pogue on Pogue macking,” Kiara piped up like she was the spokesperson for it.  

“Oh my god; I know!” You groaned and Pope laughed, “why do you think I’m in this dilemma?”  

“You could date a kook,” JJ teased.  

“Fuck you JJ.”  

“Just mack on some Pogue we don’t know,” John B suggested. You looked over at him and took a long gulp of your beer, if he only knew.  

“You know everyone,” Kiara pointed out.  

“See, Kie understands my dilemma.”  

“Actually, I kinda prefer not being tied down.” Kiara replied.

“Okay, archaic...I’m not trying to be someone’s property or something but it’d be kinda nice to have someone ya know? To not have to flirt with rando tourists all summer.” You complained. It was a legitimate problem.  

“Sure. I hear that.” Pope agreed.

When everyone else had dispersed for the night, Pope back to his house, Kie to the Wreck, JJ to sleep in the hammock outside the Chateau, you and John B sat on the couch watching a movie on your laptop. You had your head on his shoulder and he was slumped against the cushions, far too quiet for a movie about a mega shark attacking people. He hadn’t said much else after your discussion about dating had died down. John B talked the talk, he flirted easily with tourons at parties but you never knew him to really be with anyone. You couldn’t remember a time when he’d ever called someone his girlfriend but you also didn’t know him to be the type to have random hookups.  

“You’re so quiet.” You observed, “we haven’t even ragged on the stupid CGI.”

“The CGI is stupid.” John B said, tilting his head to look at you and smiling.  

“Loser.” You shook your head. You wanted to tell him, you had decided on the boat that you had to. If he wasn’t interested in you, if the idea of dating one of his best friends freaked him out that was fine, you could be friends and move on. But if you just thought about it, obsessed over it, you would make it awkward. It would never be normal between the two of you because all you would focus on would be the what-ifs.

John B shrugged.  

“Hey John B, can I ask you something?” You sat up, shifting away so that you could look at him.  

“You just did.”

“Okay dad,” you rolled your eyes at him when he smiled.

“What’s up?” He asked, turning to face you, movie forgotten. The mega shark could eat whoever he wanted, John was focused on you and that was better than a movie.  

You were never sure how these things worked. Did you say that you liked him and you wanted to be in a relationship with him? Did you tell him you wanted to kiss him? How did you say okay to him when he inevitability said he wasn’t interested? He probably liked someone else. Sure, you had never seen him with anyone but that didn’t mean he didn’t like someone else...maybe Kie, everyone liked her. And if he did you couldn’t be mad about that.  

“Hey, E.T., phone home.” John B teased, waving a hand in front of your face.

You laughed and grabbed his wrist, “sorry.” You moved his hand to your lap and held it there, taking a deep breath. You could do this. This was John B, best friend, dork, treasure hunter. You talked to him about everything, you could talk to him about this. “The thing is-” You leaned forward, getting a rush of adrenaline as you closed your eyes and pressed your lips against his.  

John B’s eyes went wide as he sat there, his brain working overtime to catch up with what was happening. His free hand gripped the back of the couch as he leaned more into the kiss. When you’d mentioned wanting to date someone, he never imagined that you could be thinking about him. You’d been friends for a long time but that didn’t erase the fact that you were attractive. He’d never do anything that you didn’t want but there were plenty of times when he stared a little too long or hugged you a little too long. He was sure JJ and Pope had too, it wasn’t anything unusual for a group so close to have crushes on each other but he couldn’t even wrap his mind around the two of you.  

As the kiss deepened you let go of his hand to hold onto his shoulders, shifting yourself to straddle his lap. John B wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you against him completely as he laid back on the couch, the sudden motion making you yelp a little.  

“Oh my god, JB!” You laughed; foreheads pressed together as you laid there on top of him.  

“So uh, definitely broke a rule or two,” he joked. He watched as you sat up in his lap.  

-

That was two weeks ago and in that time you and John B had almost perfected your ability to sneak around. Though no amount of perfectly crafted excuses, late nights at the Chateau without your friends, or actively pretending you were interested in other people when you were at a party could have helped you avoid the most obvious clue that one of you might be fooling around behind the group’s back.  

You were on the HMS Pogue with the others, sitting cross-legged at the front with JJ smoking while Kiara and Pope swam. It would be dusk soon and the air was getting colder this far out. You would have just put your shorts and shirt back on but JJ had thrown you in the water earlier, fully dressed, and now you sat there, cold, with your wet clothes hanging over the side of the boat.  

“Just give me your t-shirt.” You begged. You’d been asking JJ for his shirt to keep you warm for the last ten minutes.

“No. Then I’ll be cold.”

“So much for chivalry.”

“I’m sorry,” Pope called, “is your complaint that JJ isn’t chivalrous?”  

“Yeah you’re right, my bad.” You stuck your tongue out at JJ and he smiled in return. John B was at the wheel, wearing your favorite of his numerous Hawaiian shirts. The one with the girls surfing. “Hey John B!” You called, leaning toward him and smiling.

“Yes?” John asked, smirking at you and raising an eyebrow in question.

“Can I have your shirt? JJ’s a douche and won’t give me his.”

“You’re such a baby.” JJ laughed.

“I guess I can spare it.” John replied, unbuttoning the only two buttons he’d done up and slipping the shirt off. You smiled, holding your hand out to him to accept the shirt.  

Once he handed it over he walked back to the wheel, JJ sliding his sunglasses down his nose dramatically and letting out a low whistle. “Hot damn John B, didn’t know you liked it so rough.”  

“What?” John whipped around, looking at JJ questioningly.  The other boy slipped his sunglasses into his necklace and signed toward John B.  

“You have, uh, scratches...on your back.” You supplied. JJ was still smirking.

“Wait what?” The commotion had caught Kiara and Pope’s attention, both swimming over to the boat and climbing in.  

John’s eyes shot instinctively over at you and you looked away as he reached back and felt the slightly raised welts on his back from the previous night. None of the other pogues had stuck around last night, leaving you and John B in the Chateau alone.  

JJ was watching your behavior and, when you turned away from him, noticed something off. “Hey Kie, hand me a water?”

“Seriously JJ?” She tossed the water at him as Pope followed up his “wait what” with twenty other questions. Who was it? When did you meet them? How long have you known them? Where they a pogue, a touron, worse? A kook?  

JJ, meanwhile, spilled some water on his fingers and reached over, rubbing your neck without warning, “what the fuck JJ!” You shouted, jumping to your feet and moving away from him.  

“Think I can answer your who Pope, unless that’s a coincidence.” He joked, pointing to the newly revealed hickey on your neck. You’d covered it with bronzer and foundation that morning but hours in the sun had sweat some of the makeup off and JJ had rubbed the rest.

“Oh my god!” Kiara grabbed your arm, turning you to look at the mark, “oh my god! For christ sake, we have a rule.”

“It’s a fucking stupid rule Kie and you know it.” John cut in immediately.

“Can’t argue with that.” JJ announced.

“Shut up Jay, you aren’t helping.”

“Guys...why didn’t you just tell us?” Pope asked.

“Cause I knew exactly how Kie would react.”  

“We have a rule for a reason! What happens when you break up and then shit is awkward because we have to choose who to be friends with?” She argued.

“We aren’t gonna break up.” You insisted.

“You don’t know that, all summer you’ve been ‘I just want a boyfriend to mack on, it doesn’t have to be serious’ and so what? Some tourist won’t do because two weeks is too short but you and John B are gonna hook up? Until when?”

“Whoa, don’t turn on me!” You snapped.  

“She’s got a point...not just you,” JJ quickly clarified. “But both of you...what happens when you get sick of whatever this is?”

“I’m not getting sick of anything and we’re not just hooking up for the summer Kie,” John B said, looking between his friends.  

“You say that-”

“I love her.” He cut in. Turning to look at you he continued, “I love you, not exactly how I imagined telling you but...I love you.”  

You bit your lip as you smiled, “I love you too.” You had known that first day on John B’s couch that there was no way the feelings you had for him could be contained to a random hookup. You weren't just dating for the summer to break up, this was something real. Something serious.  

“Good, now I’m turning this fucking boat around and all of you can go the fuck home.”  

“You’re kicking us off the boat cause Kie threw a tantrum.”

“I did not throw a tantrum JJ!” Kiara said, smacking his arm.

“You kinda did.”  

“I’m not kicking you off the boat cause you threw a tantrum-”

“I didn’t throw a tantrum!” She laughed this time as she cut John B off.  

“I’m dropping you off cause you definitely don’t wanna be around for the next couple of hours.” John B announced, glancing over at you and winking.

“Oh my god!” Pope groaned, “can you guys not talk about it.”

-

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If you want to be tagged let me know! 

[danger-xylophones]

Hi could you please write a thrawn x always cold reader? I heard that chiss have higher body heat and would love a warm hug rn. No pressure at all though! Love your fics

Yessss, send me all the Thrawn asks, please! Also 1) Sorry this took so long 2) I wasn’t sure if you meant to imply that the reader is anemic or not so I chose not to go that direction. I did choose to adapt a bizarre struggle I learned sometimes happens when couples buy their first house together. 

He forgets you grew up on Tattooine. He forgets you were a child of the sand-someone who had to learn how to survive before they learned how to walk. 

You’d been a bounty hunter before the Empire plucked you from the employ of Jabba and ‘invited’ you into the Imperial Academy. Despite that, you’d managed to climb the ranks in record time before landing yourself a cozy little spot aboard the Chimeara around the same time Thrawn took command. 

And since his first meeting with you, Thrawn took a note of how you never just wore your uniform. You always had another layer on. He never commented on it though, chocking it up to a quirk of the independent fire he knew burned within you-you weren’t loyal to the Empire, after all, but you were loyal to him and that was enough. 

But it struck him as odd when the crew of the Chimeara was forced to travel to Hoth, of all places, to deal with a rebel cell and you refused to leave your post on the bridge. Normally, you loved leading the charge when dealing with rebels. And Thrawn let you, confident in your ability to lead the troops in a ground assault while he kept command of the fleet. Thrawn, not willing to order you around, let you stay on the bridge as he took over on the ground. 

The mission went off without a hitch. The rebels had been dealt with and Thrawn was back on the star destroyer. But one thing wasn’t right. He expected you to be waiting in the bridge for him, like normal, but you weren’t there. He hummed quietly as he surveyed the various officers and crew members at the computer before turning to the one closest to his left. “Officer, where is Admiral L/n?” 

The officer turned to Thrawn. “Admiral L/n retired for the evening, citing that they were not feeling well. They left the report on the naval conflict in your office, sir.”

Not feeling well? That was more than enough for concern. He hummed again and ordered for the crew to proceed to make the jump to hyperspace while he strode out of the the bridge in search of you. If his love was suffering, he was going to be there to help. 

He went to his office first; expecting to find you curled up in his chair there as per your usual routine. But you were not. The only sign you’d even been there was the added datapad and a chair that had been slightly scooted out. Thrawn left his office soon after, datapad in hand, and headed for his quarters next. You weren’t there either but...your favorite blanket was missing from its spot neatly folded at the foot of your shared bed. That left one other spot for you to retire to. Your quarters...on the other side of the ship. This was unusual for you. You’d confessed that you hated being so far away from his office. For you to go there of your own volition was odd. 

Thrawn got to your room quickly, aided by the rarity that no one needed to speak to him at the moment, and entered just as quickly-you never bothered to change your access code he noted. What he found upon stepping into your room was not what he was expecting to find. 

Thrawn could barely see a tuft of your hair peeking out from underneath a mountain of blankets. He noted that the drawer still holding the uniforms you hadn’t moved to his quarters was open with your lighter uniforms haphazardly hanging out. It seemed as though you had been after your heavier and warmer uniforms and had neglected to tidy up again before hiding beneath the beneath. You were evidently freezing then-had you fallen prey to a fever?

“Y/n?” Thrawn called out and he saw movement on the bed. There was a mumbled reply back. The Grand Admiral stepped into the room completely, letting the door slide shut behind him, and calmly began refolding and putting away the strewn about uniforms. He had been correct though-your warmer uniforms were not in the bottom of the drawer of your dresser. “Care to tell me why you are hiding away in your old room beneath,” he paused long enough to cast his eyes over to the bed, “five or so blankets?” 

“No.” He barely heard the flat response but it was enough to make him pause. “It’s dumb anyways.” You continued and now Thrawn stopped entirely and began to approach the bed. You were never like this no matter how miserable you were, you always maintained a sense of decorum even when around him. “I’ll be fine in a bit.” There was no mistaking the bitterness in your tone. 

Thrawn tilted his head at where you lay though you could not see him. His brow furrowed as he attempted to piece together what was going on. “Have I...done something to upset you, my dear?” It would not be unheard of. Thrawn was new to the idea of relationships just as you were-bumps were bound to come up, was this one of them? 

The chiss approached and sat on the edge of the bed, near enough to where you lay. He was at least relieved to see the blankets shift enough for you to poke your face out and speak to him. “No, my love, it’s nothing you’ve done.” Your voice was soft now, the bitterness from earlier pushed away to be dealt with later. The grand admiral hummed and scanned over your exposed face. You look tired, he noted, and small. Your movements were slow and stiff-every articulation looked painful. And you weren’t nearly as chatty nor affectionate as you would have been if you were in good health. 

“Then what is wrong? One of the officers informed me that you had retired because you felt ill. Is that truly the case?” He pressed, leaning towards you on one hand. 

You rolled your eyes at the news. “Dirty snitch.” With a huff you began to hide away once more but Thrawn pulled the blankets farther down to stop you. 

“You say that as if I would not go looking for you when I did not find you in our quarters.” He pressed and he saw you shy away, embarrassment taking over. He saw your lips move and knew that noise had left you but for the life of him he could not figure out what you said. “Pardon?” 

“Our quarters are too cold.” It was still hard to understand, your voice mumbly and the consonants unpronounced but he heard you all the same. 

His brow furrowed and his lips pursed before he was aware of it. “What do you mean? I specifically requested our quarters be kept at 22 degrees. Was I misinformed? Is that not the correct temperature you humans find the most agreeable?” 

You went so far as to reach a hand up to placate him, a grimace on your face the whole while your bare skin was exposed to the air. “No, Thrawn, it is. But...it’s too cold.” He said nothing and waited for you to elaborate. “Normally it’s manageable but today...I went in there and tried to get warm but I-I couldn’t. So...” So you came here, Thrawn finished in his head before something else jumped out at him. 

“Manageable? So, you mean to say that you have always been too cold in our quarters? Why did you not tell me?” The Grand Admiral couldn’t help but huff. 

“I didn’t tell you because I know Chiss’ body temperatures run higher than humans’-I didn’t want you to be uncomfortable. You’d already raised the room by ten degrees.” You mumbled to him and Thrawn felt any anger he had diminish. 

“Ch’eo ch’acah...” Thrawn sighed. “You need not worry about me. Chiss are adaptive. I will be fine no matter what.” He could see you wilt, attempting to hide once more. He didn’t let you. “Will you come back with me?” 

You shook your head which startled Thrawn before lifting the covers off of you. “Can we stay here for now? I’m finally getting warm.” The chiss let out a small huff in amusement before standing up. You watched as he carefully undid the top of his uniform. “What are you doing?” 

Without pausing he answered, “I understand that skin to skin contact is very helpful when trying to warm someone up.” In one fluid motion he pulled off his top and placed it on your nightstand which left his chest bare to you. He was keenly aware of the way you were gaping at him and it made a small, smug smile stretch over his face. Thrawn signalled for you to scoot over as he kicked off his boots and picked up the datapad he had brought before he slid into the bed. Thrawn snaked his arm around you and pulled you flush against him and for your own sake, he pretend not to notice the sigh of relief that slipped from you. You curled closer and pressed your face into his neck, immediately starting to warm up. “For future reference, what temperature is agreeable for you?” He asked after a moment of just letting you cuddle close. 

There was a beat of silence as you thought about it. “29. I think.” Thrawn’s brow furrowed for a second before it dawned on him-you’d spent your whole life on Tattooine, a planet known for its two suns and extraordinary heat. No wonder. 

“Noted.” He stated simply and he felt a slight chuckle slip from you. Little else was said as Thrawn pulled you closer once more. He could feel you beginning to drift off, your breaths evening out, and your hand that rested on his chest beginning to relax. “Get some rest, ch’eo ch’acah. I will be here when you wake.” You hummed in response but that is all he got out of you before you officially fell asleep, safe and warm against him. It brought a smile to his face. With a sigh of his own, he made sure he had a secure grip on your sleeping form before turning his attention to the report awaiting him. 

taglist: @apocalypticwafflekitten @cherryxcyarika @pinkiemme @justalittlecloud

[coldcocoamilk]

hey y'all lousy Levihan lovers - I got a new laptop, which means I can finally write comfortably again. we know what that means - a new fic.

as always, this fic is available on archive of our own at this link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32169334/chapters/79707976

Title: I Went to College and All I Got Was This Lousy Degree

Summary: At the start of Hange's senior year, she's told that she must tutor the ill-tempered Levi Ackerman in Biology if he wants to graduate and keep his baseball scholarship. From that point forward, she does everything she can to keep it strictly business with Levi - until they keep running into each other, everywhere. It takes a little time and some self-discovery, but eventually, she finds herself falling for that baseball boy in the midst of her college career.

chapter 1 under the cut :)

1580.

The numbers were bold against her computer screen and seemed to be burning permanently into her retinas. What was that, like, two questions? It wasn’t fair.

“What did you get this time, honey?”

She turned the laptop to face her mother, who frowned. “It’s a ten point increase, at least.”

“I wanted a perfect score,” Hange moaned. “I hate the College Board. This is some crap.”

“Well, that’s three out of three. You’ve still done better than anyone I’ve ever seen,” her mother reassured her. “Can I take these cups?”

Hange looked over her desk at the array of cups, old bowls, and soiled paper plates. “Yeah, but I want the orange one. I’ll help you bring all this down – sorry about the mess.”

“You’ve been studying hard,” her mom reassured her. “I just don’t want any roaches to be drawn in.”

The warmth from the soapy dish water was soothing on her aching hands. Ever since eight that morning, Hange had been either typing, writing, or highlighting, and when her hands weren’t in use, her eyes flew across text resulting in the typical tension headache she felt directly behind her eyes. Now that it was six, and dinner was almost ready? Done. She was done. Hange thought that senior year would be the worst year for her, but so far, junior year was setting the bar pretty high with the combination of exams, state testing, entrance exams, and college applications.

“Leave the water in the sink. I made you some veggies,” her mom told her.

Perhaps it was weird, but one of the few things that Hange enjoyed out of her mom’s cooking was vegetables. Everything else was either too bland or too salty, too mushy or nearly burnt, but her vegetables were always well seasoned and just cooked right. Going vegetarian had been easy for Hange, especially since it was pretty much all she ate at home anyways.

“Are you going to Nanaba’s after dinner still?” Her mom asked as they ate their dinner together.

“Yeah, I’ll probably sleep there tonight, if you don’t mind,” Hange replied between forkfuls of carrots. “By the way, when does dad come back?”

“Wednesday morning, so you’ll have to take the truck into school, okay? And that’s fine, just check in with me at some point. Go ahead and take the truck tonight, too.”

“Yup, gotcha,” Hange replied, finishing her plate. “Thank you for the food – I really like that new sauce you’re using.”

Her mom beamed, a rare sight for her tired face. “I used balsamic dressing in it! I knew it’d be good.”

Hange grabbed her bag from the bottom of the stairs on her way up. It was way too hefty for her plans tonight, and besides, she really didn’t need her calc II book at Nanaba’s, anyways. She packed the usual: laptop, jeans, cute shirt, a long skirt, cardigan, flats, and some pajamas. Her deodorant and perfume got haphazardly thrown in there too, along with an extra hair tie and her chargers. On last thought, Hange reached for a couple of suspiciously heavy balled-up sock pairs, throwing them in there too. Nanaba would appreciate that.

The truck keys were on the counter next to Hange’s wallet, and she clipped them onto her belt loop on the way out. Everyone in the house had ended up with her trusty carabiner trick: can’t lose your keys if they’re always attached to your pants. Her logic was that if you lose your pants somehow, you’ve got more issues than your keys.

“See ya mom!” Hange called out to the house. Her mom’s jazz music was already audible from the bedroom, and the dishes from dinner sat soaking in the sink. It was always much more laid back when her dad was out on a business trip, and a nice treat in comparison to his uptight antics.

Dusk in southern California during April was always nice – it wasn’t chilly enough to warrant a decent coat, but it was warm enough that you could get away with a dress. Sure, the daytime was utter hell, but at night, her dad’s hoodie on the passenger side of the bench seat in his truck was a welcome blanket on her lap as she drove to Nanaba’s house just fifteen minutes away.

Nanaba had been Hange’s best friend since the sixth grade, and they weren’t planning on changing that any time soon. Once upon a chilly November evening, school had just let out and they sat waiting for their parents to pick them up. Fifteen minutes passed, then half an hour, then a full hour – somehow, the two had ended up being “those kids.” You know the type. Mom fell asleep or lost track of time, child has to try their hardest to remember the house phone number, mom freaks out and arrives in a panic. In that span of an hour, the two started an inseparable bond over Pokémon Sapphire on Hange’s Gameboy Advance.

Hange let herself in with the key under the mat, making her way quietly through the house and up the stairs to Nanaba’s room. She found her with a clear plastic bonnet on her head, cross-legged at the head of the bed on her laptop, and the room reeked of chemicals. “Yo,” she announced herself, dropping her bookbag on the bed and flopping down on it. “That time of the month again?”

“You make it sound like I’ve got my period,” Nanaba complained. “What score did you get?”

“A fifteen eighty,” Hange replied. “You?”

“Fifteen thirty,” Nanaba beamed. “My highest yet!”

“Yooooo!” Hange shot up. “I’m proud of you! That’s, what, a seventy-point improvement? You studied!”

“I took your advice and had my dad buy me that SAT prep book you kept talking about. It really did work, thank you so much,” Nanaba gushed. “I feel like I can finally relax, just a little. Next weeks is finals, but in a couple hours, it’ll be Sunday, which means I’m not studying for a whole twenty-four hours.”

Hange flopped back down on the bed. “Preach. You feel like going out tonight?”

Nanaba leaned against the headboard of her bed, the plastic cap on her head crinkling against the wall. “Nah, I don’t think anything is happening. Besides, I’m doing my hair. I need you to help me touch up the sides again.”

“All right,” Hange replied. “How long do you have left?”

“Ten minutes,” Nanaba closed her laptop and stretched before swinging her legs off the side of the bed. “We’re not going out tonight, but I do have a bottle, if you wanna.”

“I brought shooters!” Hange shot back up, immediately digging through her bag and extracting the balled-up socks. “Some different ones this time, for us to try. What did you get this time?”

Nanaba walked across the room and opened her closet, pulling a bottle of liquor out from a box labelled WINTER. “Eddy orange this time. Haven’t tried it yet, but I thought we’ve abused the lemon enough.” Glass clinked as she pulled out two shot glasses: one shaped like a miniature beaker, and a normal one that simply said BOOBS.

“Beautiful,” Hange grinned. “Today we’re trying… uhh… UV Blue, Jägermeister, and this weird peanut butter whiskey stuff.”

“Did you shoplift again?” Nanaba gave her a glance. “You know, it’s one thing to buy with a fake. It’s another to shoplift entirely.”

“Does it count as shoplifting if your parents don’t drink but keep getting gifted weird alcohol gift baskets from my dad’s customers so it all just ends up sitting in the liquor cabinet for years anyways?”

“God, your dad’s job is weird.”

“Yeah, I know.”

[jamestrmtx]

Fairytale Complex - [Undertale | Sans x Reader]

[Gender Neutral, Frisk's Parent Reader | Slow Burn]

Chapter Nineteen | Temmie Village (Part 1 of 2) [First] | [Previous] | [Next]

Song Referenced

+

Temmiefied Version

Alternate Chapter Title(s): Stand by Me (no duh) or The Corny One With A Song Title Reference, Part 1

• • •

The shopping district’s as busy as the roads you’ve just driven by; food courts are the most bustling with the hour your phone marks: ten minutes past noon. Contraire to her punctual self, Brenda’s running late, though you settle for waiting ten more before sending her a message. You sit by an empty booth and take the last chair available in the row to avoid disturbing those who’re already eating. Then, you pull your planner out and skip through a few pages until you find the right one. Aside from your usual schedule, you had her visiting again this Friday, a meeting with Toriel regarding some plans she wanted to discuss with you on Saturday, and another one with Sans on Sunday to arrange the second step towards homeschooling Frisk while you enrolled them somewhere else.

It’s still hard to read that last one, not for what it was, but for the fact that almost every school you’d tried to sign them up into declined having other guardians aside from you and Jerry to pick them up. They declined Toriel just as much as they declined Undyne, all due to the new rules and regulations set up in schools since the monsters’ arrival. What Toriel wanted to discuss with you was related to that, though you hadn’t been given too many details as to what it was, exactly. You glance back to your phone to see over ten minutes have passed by already, yet Brenda's nowhere to be seen. You start typing up a message, only to be interrupted by her call; the device almost slips off your hands with how abrupt it is. 

“H- Hello?” you answer, catching your breath.

She screams an accusation at you, not an ill-minded one per se, but one questioning over why you’d kept information hidden from her.

“Why didn’t you tell me you’re that close to him already?” she asks, words jarringly loud. You have to turn down the volume despite it not being set on speakerphone. “So he's going to help you with Frisk? That’s serious boyfriend material, honey!”

Thankfully, she sounds happy.

Still, a correction's deemed necessary.

“What do you mean, Brenda?”

“Auntie Brenda, mind you.”

You huff and bring a hand to the side of your neck, tension consuming it. “Alright, Auntie Brenda… Where are you right now? I don’t have much break time left anymore.”

“Just go ahead and eat, dear. I’ll drive over on the weekend.”

Right as you’re about to complain over her choices, she speaks up again, calmer than before.

“Or why not come over after you have lunch there?” she asks, words cooed. “You work close to him, don't you?”

“Thanks for the offer, but I’ll stay here.” You can’t help feeling a little sour over her suggestion and with the reminder you’ve waited almost half an hour for her at the mall. With the call, it’s now thirty-five minutes past noon, giving you barely sufficient time for you to eat -- let alone listen to her rambling over how she’d misinterpreted your relationship and how Sans was better than she expected him to be. “You didn’t bother him with questions about his job, right?" you add. "He’s-”

“Why would I? He’s working an office job just like you!"

“He, what?”

You can’t avoid blurting that question out; a blank canvas replaces the image of him working at a hot dog stand. You try to imagine him working an office job, but it's near impossible to. Even if he knew plenty on various subjects, the monotonous yet fast-paced ambience of a desk job didn’t quite fit with your view of who the monster was to you.

“He works an office job, honey. Don’t you know where your own boyfriend works?” You can almost hear her shaking her head, disappointment made known through the blatant change in her voice. “Shame on you!”

You pinch the bridge of your nose and stand up, too vexed to sit still. “That’s not what I meant, Bre- ...Auntie Brenda,” you say, trailing off on your words. “I just… didn’t know he worked two jobs.”

“He does?!”

You lower the volume once more, Brenda's voice taking up a speakerphone quality to it again. Her tone then grows fainter as she questions the skeleton about the legitimacy of your statement. When her voice turns louder, you figure he’s given her an answer -- one you’ve no clue of. If he had two jobs, then you’re not so sure over how she'll be reacting. And if he didn’t, then you’d inadvertently put him on the spot by letting the truth known, something that didn’t really make sense if he was supposed to be working -- or at the very least, ending his lunch break right now.

Feeling it’s going to take a while, you stand in line at one of the fast-food establishments nearest to you; a growl from your stomach reminds you time’s running out. “So what did he say?” you speak up, knowing she’s getting distracted again.

“He does!” she exclaims, almost in a cheer. “Why didn’t you tell me he was that well-off, then? You should marry him now that you’ve got the chance to.”

“Weren’t you scolding me over the opposite barely a week ago?”

“Maybe so, but that was before I knew him better, dear!”

You roll your eyes and sigh, headache worsening. “Alright, I’m hanging up now. Don’t bother him too much, and stop interrupting his-”

“Wait,” she calls, excitement still there. “Have you ever thought of learning more about monsters? There’s a bunch of workshops going on right now… And I figured you could take one, since you’re dating one and all!”

Nearly the time for you to make your order, you let your tone become sterner, hoping to get your point across. “That… That sounds good and all, but I really need to go now. My lunch break’s almost over.”

Brenda huffs. “Fine.” Her voice comes out dragged, and it’s almost possible for you to hear her pouting. “But we need to talk all about this on Friday!”

“Sure. See you then.”

“Farewell, dear!”

You hang up, slip your phone back in your pocket, and turn to the register when you’re done, right on time to make your order.

• • •

Breathe in, breathe out.

You repeat that sentence along with those actions as you clock out of work, more than ready to relax, but less than capable of with how much you've left to resolve. 

Before turning off the computer, you click on your boss's e-mail for a third time today and read it once more.

>> Come to my office as soon as you're done with your shift for the day. I'll be waiting. – Sent from my ayPhone <<

You huff and glance at the pills on your desk. Despite these being given to you by the doctor herself, you're trying not to take them as often as the instructions on the bottle tell you to. You don't want to grow dependent on them, yet -- at the same time -- it's nearly impossible for you to go by your usual routine without having the repercussions of not taking them delay your progress. The side-eyes and looks some of your co-workers offer you on occasion reveal they're not too thrilled by the idea of having someone in your state around, either. Dizziness takes over and your headache worsens; they're enough for your body to finally give in, causing you to stumble out of your desk chair and direct all gazes on you.

Breathe in, breathe out.

It's just as impossible trying to ignore everyone, and it's even more difficult trying to stand up without making a complete fool of yourself.

Breathe in, breathe-

A hand's offered out to you; you accept it, yet you refuse to look at the person until you're back to your feet.

When you do look up, you recognize who the person is in an instant. It's the same man Sans had taken a picture with the day you first met. His hair looks different, but his face and clothing style remain the same. His hand stays holding yours until you assure him you're capable of standing straight again, and even then he still has his doubts. A subtle frown shows on his visage, fueled by concern.

"Are you alright, or should I call someone?" he asks, forehead creasing. "That fall looked pretty serious."

"I'm alright," you reply, managing a smile. You're still dizzy, the headache has only grown worse, and having people still looking in your direction doesn't help much with any of that, either. Even so, having him by your side along with a few other, approachable co-workers helps with bringing you back down to earth and allows you to find some more stability before going to meet with your boss. 

"Excuse me, (L/N), but…"

You turn to the voice to see a woman -- tall, pale-skinned, and dark-haired -- offering you your phone. It takes some time, but you're able to recognize her as one of the few co-workers you spent your lunch break with before Frisk went missing. She's as professional as ever, and her formality still shows subtly through speech, yet it doesn't erase how warm and genuine her tone sounds. "Your phone broke with the fall." She pulls her hand back as soon as you have the device in your hold; her body language reveals she has a hunch in terms of just how 'alright' you really are, and what a twice-broken phone in less than a year could do to your current, physical and mental state alike. "It seems like it still works though, since it was ringing just a minute ago."

"Thank you." You turn it on to view a cracked screen. The update Alphys gave it appears to have made it more durable, based on how minor the damages are compared to the first time it fell. You're capable of unlocking it and even checking your notifications to notice you've got a few unread messages from Brenda and Frisk's school, coupled with a missed call from Sans. That last one is harder to take in. He already knew what hour you clocked out, and he had enough common sense and decency not to call you unless it was an emergency -- unlike Brenda, who didn't really know how to read the room, and Frisk's school, which called only when it was absolutely necessary. "I, uh…" You're not sure on what to do first. Brenda could be easily set aside with what she did during your lunch break, but the same couldn't be said for everything else.

Breathe in, breathe out.

You flinch at the sudden sensation of needles on your forehead and a dizziness so strong and wild, it makes your stomach far too queasy for you to manage with. Still, you combat that feeling by grabbing some gum from your belongings, taking a few, and chewing them all at once. The sharp taste and scent of mint helps wash away nausea, yet the dizziness persists.

"Do you want us to take you home, (L/N)?" the man from earlier asks, sounding more concerned than before. Meanwhile, the woman approaches you with some water, one you accept and drink as quickly as it falls in your hands. They both help sit you down on a different desk chair -- one without wheels to prevent you from falling over again. Most have left, while some stay and try to offer more aid. Your boss stands by the exit, arms crossed, stance firm, and face hard to read with how bad your symptoms have turned. "Or maybe accompany you to the bus stop, at least? You shouldn't drive in these conditions."

"It's…"

Your eyes fall on your phone again, tempted to make a decision.

With your priorities now changed to the subject of your health, you set Frisk's school aside with the knowledge they're with Toriel at this hour and forget about the meeting with your boss, aware she's already seen you from a distance. Only his name remains; truthfully, you'd rather limit how much time you spent with him, knowing what the opposite did to your heart and mind alike. You hesitate and stare blankly for a short while before you click on his missed call. One tap and two rings is all that's needed for you to reach him. It takes a second for you to answer back at him, half as much as it takes for your hand to stop shaking and for your voice to gain a better semblance of strength. It's too late to hang up now -- and his call could likely be an emergency -- so you continue forward with it.

"You don't sound too great. Everythin' okay?"

"About that…"

You share some words with him and refuse to tell him of your situation until he gives you his own reason for calling you at this hour.

"...Why did you call me?"

"It's about Frisk, but it ain't an emergency or anythin' -- it's good news, actually."

"Then why did y-"

"Listen, I don't mean to be harsh or nosy, but you sound awful right now. I can give you all the answers you need later, but could ya tell me what's wrong?"

You heave a small breath and look at the time, along with the hour of his missed call. He made it around eleven minutes past the end of your shift, so it wasn't exactly interrupting your job, but you're not sure how to interpret his call and the fact it was his first occasion calling you so close to your work schedule. Even if you were overthinking it, you didn't want to overlook anything, either. And then again, the state you're in isn't really the best for you to be questioning every little thing about your relationship with him -- at the moment, of course. "I feel sick. Kind of similar to that day at the hospital." You decide to be earnest, regardless of how dry your throat feels and how fast your heart goes. "I, well…"

"Want me to pick you up?"

Your ears turn hot while your hands do the opposite. "Y- Yeah…" Your chest tightens and your words grow faint, until you continue with, "I need your help, teddy bear."

"Teddy bear?" he asks, chuckling.

"You're calling me puddin' now, aren't you? You're a teddy bear in my eyes, then."

"I wonder why."

You smile.

"...See you in a bit?"

"'Course. I should be there in ten minutes max."

"Thank you."

With that, you say your farewells and hang up.

Now left to wait, you put your phone away, pick up the rest of your belongings, and stay with the company of your two co-workers as you make it to the exit. Your boss is still waiting next to it, yet she steps aside as do other people standing nearby, providing you with space to pass by. She says nothing, so you stop for a second, only to have her nod for you to carry on walking.

"Come to my office as soon as you recover, (L/N)."

That's the only thing she says as the door closes, leaving you with one co-worker by your left and the other by your right, both waiting in case you were to fall over again.

Breathe in, breathe out.

[First] | [Previous] | [Next]

• • •

Small but Important™ Q&A regarding healthcare and whether it's American-based or not

To clarify for everyone else possibly having that same doubt, based on a question made by a reader in terms of Chapter Six and Seven's events:

All healthcare/medical attention mentioned in this story is based off my country, meaning it's either free or at the very least, affordable enough that you don't have to choose between an Uber or an overpriced weewoo vehicle in case of a medical emergency.

For example: I pay only $10 for 4 different medicines I'm meant to take, 3 which are for a lifetime (example: thyroiditis), and the only thing my insurance doesn't cover is optometry, which is around $300 to $500 a year for a full exam and prescription!

Tl;dr: It isn't. There's no debt here so far, lol.

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Exothermic : chapter ten

Amalthea vs the Fever

"God no, Uley. I just wanted you to stay the hell away from me if you're sick."

previous chapter 

987 words 

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Amalthea Swan had been a student at Forks High School for a week when she finally received her first weekend to herself. She no longer had any unpacking to do, having done that all throughout the week rather than the homework assigned.

It was a Sunday afternoon and Thea was burrowed under a blanket, watching a cartoon on tv as she nursed a bowl of strawberry ice-cream. Her thoughts were turned away from how Jerry would piss Tom off in the episode when she received a text message from Trevor Uley.

'Hey I feel like ass. I can't make it to school tomorrow. Just bring me the papers the teacher gives us for the project after school. I'll text you my address in the morning, my brain refuses to think.'

Thea groaned into her mouthful of ice-cream, replying to the text message with 'if i get your gross ass sickness i will be beating your ass.'

Trevor then spammed her phone with heart emoticons, clarifying at the end that all of them were absolutely necessary in order for his illness to be cured.

Locking her phone and throwing it on the cushion at the end of the couch she laid upon, Thea remembered that Uley wasn't feeling well on Friday and probably isn't lying so he can ditch school.

In history, Amalthea and Trevor sat in the back of the class, bickering quietly about whether or not she would attend Jackson's first game at the end of the month. Thea claimed she was a busy ass person, as Trevor argued that Son deserves his parents love and support! To which Mal knocked him on the back of the head, earning a scolding from the teacher who spoke about due dates for the project they had been assigned on Monday.

Once Mr. Huber turned back to the white board, Amalthea turned toward the Uley boy with her two brows pulled together.

Discreetly whispering toward his ear, she had asked why his head was so hot, and if he had a fever.

"Worried 'bout me, are we, Mal? Awe! I knew you cared!" Trevor spoke aloud, - which earned himself a detention from the teacher who seemed to run out of patience- hand on his heart as he frowned in adoration.

"God no, Uley. I just wanted you to stay the hell away from me if you're sick." Thea spoke just as loud, causing for the history teacher to purse his lips together so tightly that they started to go white.

"Detention! Both of you! All you do is talk, hush up and pay attention! This project will be a quarter of your grade. You need to focus. Considering you both are partners, I suggest you two face forward and quit speaking to one another until I tell you to do so. Next time I hear a peep out of either of you, you're out of the room!" Huber spoke harshly, face going beet red in irritation.

"Gotcha, teach'. Just for you, I'll ignore the buffoon." Amalthea nodded, aiming a thumbs up toward the agitated teacher.

"Buffoon? Buffoon! I am not a buffoon, Swan!"

The teacher glared at the two students who had caused for his classroom to erupt in laughter rather than listen to his teachings.

"Out! I'm done with dealing with this. The both of you get yours things and go! Come back Monday for the papers-- leave my classroom!" Mr. Huber harshly spoke at the two teenagers as they both pretended to be sad at the news of being ejected from the room.

The two students left a giggling classroom, silently thanking the other for getting them out of there.

So no, Amalthea did not think that Uley decided to fake an illness. She just hoped that Uley also texted Jackson, not wanting to deal with his worries when tomorrow arises.

Feeling a headache come on from the two pigtails that she put in after waking at eleven in the morning, - her uncle refused to let her first weekend free of school be spent sleeping - Thea released the hair ties from her head of hair.

Running her hands through the scalp of her black tendrils, the teen kept her eyes glued on the television that showed Tom chasing after Jerry in a haste.

Hearing the engine of a car cutting off, Thea sat prepared for her uncle to come inside the door. Charlie entered the threshold with a friend in tow.

Harry Clearwater followed his friend into his home, immediately seeing the mans niece lounging on a small couch in the living room. Spotting the elder that she had never before, Amalthea turned toward her uncle and tilted her head, "You've got friends?"

"Wow Thea, you're so hilarious I almost forgot to laugh." Charlie exaggeratedly smiled widely, gently pushing the girls head.

"Harry, this is my niece Amalthea. Amalthea, this is Harry Clearwater. We stopped by so I could get my fishing gear." Charlie introduced the two, attention on the equipment he was there to collect.

"Amalthea? You wouldn't happen to be the young girl Uley's brother made friends with, would you?" Harry inquired, grinning softly at the girl.

Thea immediately groaned outwardly, hanging her head.

"Sadly, I guess so." She sighed, pushing hair out of her eyes, and met the mans eye line, "He showed me around on Monday so in his eyes we are now - and I quote - besties."

Harry chuckled at the girl, inwardly pitying the teen for having to lose her new friend so soon.

Charlie walked back toward the two, gear in hand. "Kiddo we're gonna head on out. I'll be back in a couple hours, Bella should be upstairs. Call if you need me."

The uncle patted her head, looking into her doe shaped eyes as they shifted toward Harry. The tribe elder nodded toward her, biding her ado.

"See you later Uncle Charlie and Uncle Charlie's fishing friend. Don't drown!"

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I watched the Tom and Jerry movie a couple days ago, have any of you seen it?

My spring break starts on Thursday, so I’ll begin writing new chapters then (except I’m gonna watch new moon first for a refresher lols).

Btw.... we're finally getting into things. ;) Are you ready?

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