#i want things to be good for longer than a week

[crazyvik97rpg]

William said out loud what Sebastian had hoped indeed - the cancer was gone, out of his system. Annihilated. It felt relieving to know that it was no longer in his body, spreading. Knowing that felt...relieving. As if a big step was made and yet...Sebastian still couldn't return back to normal fully. The last month had been extremely demanding, mentally and physically - the appointments, the diagnosis, Sebastian had worried a lot, had had many sleepless nights. More than ever he wanted this to be over already - but he feared it only just begun.

William was very happy about the outcome either way - smiled and cheered, reminded Sebastian of his kitties and how happy they'd be once he'd come home in a few days. And it was true, today marked a successful day. Sebastian should put away his frown.

"It really is great, darling. That's...at least good news at last", he smiled softly and brought William's hand closer to his stomach, just holding it there, "And yea...god, I'm already missing them. No Snowflake to snuggle with me tonight...", he pouted a little and then looked at his beloved, squeezed his hand, "And also no William. When mom and dad are going to visit later...how long will you stay? ...I know that you've got work tomorrow, so I understand if you can't stay long".

Well, of course Sebastian would have loved for William to just stay with him the whole night, but that simply wasn't possible for multiple reasons. He supposed this was something he had to do alone. He wasn't happy about it - but he also couldn't do anything about it. And speaking of work - he remembered one more thing.

"Oh gosh...speaking of, by tomorrow I won't be able to keep up this little secret any longer . ...Will you-...tell the others? I will be gone for at least two more weeks if not longer. ...I admit I didn't handle it-...perfectly. Well...it's too late now anyway...", he sighed, looking at William's hand in his lap, idly playing with his fingers, "I hope they won't be too mad about it..."

For I have sinned...

The principal cleared his throat, eyes scanning the notes that he had wrote down before this meeting. It already lasted an hour, and the teachers gathered in the faculty room were becoming restless and bored. But indeed there were some things to discuss, with the concert that the senior class was supposed to perform at the end of the semester, and with recent staff changes. 

William glanced down at his watch, sighing softly. His class was starting in 15 minutes, so at least, whether the meeting will be done soon or not, he will get to excuse himself. He looked out of the window, his mind wandering. Principal’s voice turned into white noise in the background. It was a pleasant day, late summer. But William was looking forward to a slightly cooler weather. Wearing all black could really be bothersome at times. 

“And lastly, I am pleased to announce that we have finally found replacement for the violin teacher. Dear Mr Tanaka, may he rest in peace, was with us for so many years that I’ve been concerned we won’t be able to find someone as good as to fill this position.” the principal spoke. “But Mr… Michaelis, was highly recommended to me, and he indeed has impressive references. He will be starting this week, so please welcome him warmly once he will arrive. Ah yes… about that. He will arrive today at noon, I need someone to pick him up from the train station and bring over for the tour around the school. Any volunteers?” 

William was barely listening, and definitely not paying much attention. He glanced at his watch again, and saw that it was time to leave, as his class was about to start. He raised his hand to excuse himself, and little did he know, he just volunteered.

“Father William! Excellent!” the principal exclaimed. “Just don’t be late, the train arrives at noon.”

“Train…?” William questioned, raising his brow. He had a feeling he was missing something…

***

Right after the meeting, William had to run for the class, so he had little time to clarify what exactly he had volunteered for. He was a piano teacher in this Music Academy, but also he served as a priest in local church. Well respected, and rather liked. So when he later found out it was about the new violin teacher, he didn’t refuse. Who, other than himself, would be a better choice to introduce a newcome to their community?

So even though he raised his hand by accident, he accepted this fate.

After classes, at noon, William took a taxi and drove to the train station, to pick up their new teacher. Wearing black trousers, and a black shirt with a thin tie, was absolutely dreadful in this weather, so William quickly found shelter under the roof of the station platform, that provided some shade.

The train had just arrived. William had no idea how Mr Michaelis looked like, but he figured he will just look for someone carrying a violin case with them. 

He was in for a bit surprise.

@crazyvik97

[mostlysignssomeportents]

How to have cancer

THIS WEEKEND (November 8-10), I'll be in TUCSON, AZ: I'm the GUEST OF HONOR at the TUSCON SCIENCE FICTION CONVENTION.

I've got cancer but it's probably (almost certainly, really) okay. Within a very short period I will no longer have cancer (at least for now). This is the best kind of cancer to have – the kind that is caught early and treated easily – but I've learned a few things on the way that I want to share with you.

Last spring, my wife put her arm around my waist and said, "Hey, what's this on your rib?" She's a lot more observant than I am, and honestly, when was the last time you palpated your back over your left floating rib? Sure enough, there was a lump there, a kind of squishy, fatty raised thing, half a centimeter wide and about four centimeters long.

I'm a 53 year old man with a family history of cancer. My father was diagnosed with lymphatic cancer at 55. So I called my doctor and asked for an appointment to have the lump checked over.

I'm signed up with Southern California Kaiser Permanente, which is as close as you come to the Canadian medicare system I grew up under and the NHS system I lived under for more than a decade. Broadly speaking, I really like KP. Its app – while terrible – isn't as terrible as the other apps, and they've taken very good care of me for both routine things like vaccinations and checkups, and serious stuff, like a double hip replacement.

Around the time of The Lump, I'd been assigned a new primary care physician – my old one retired – and so this was my first appointment with her. I used the KP app to book it, and I was offered appointments six weeks in the future. My new doc was busy! I booked the first slot.

This was my first mistake. I didn't need to wait to see my PCP to get my lump checked over. There was really only two things that my doc was gonna do, either prod it and say, "This is an extremely common whatchamacallit and you don't need to worry" or "You should go get this scanned by a radiologist." I didn't need a specific doctor to do this. I could have ridden my bike down to the KP-affiliated Urgent Care at our local Target store and gotten an immediate referral to radiology.

Six weeks go by, and my doc kind of rolls the weird lump between her fingers and says, "You'd better go see a radiologist." I called the Kaiser appointment line and booked it that day, and a couple weeks later I had a scan.

The next day, the app notified me that radiology report was available in my electronic heath record. It's mostly technical jargon ("Echogenic areas within mass suggest fatty component but atypical for a lipoma") but certain phrases leapt out at me: "malignant masses cannot be excluded. Follow up advised."

That I understood. I immediately left my doctor a note saying that I needed a biopsy referral and set back to wait. Two days went by. I left her a voice message. Another two days went by. I sent another email. Nothing, then a weekend, then more nothing.

I called Kaiser and asked to be switched to another Primary Care Physician. It was a totally painless and quick procedure and within an hour my new doc's intake staff had reviewed my chart, called me up, and referred me for a biopsy.

This was my second mistake. When my doctor didn't get back to me within a day, I should have called up KP and raised hell, demanding an immediate surgical referral.

What I did do was call Kaiser Member Services and file a grievance. I made it very clear that when I visited my doctor, I had been very happy with the care I received, but that she and her staff were clearly totally overloaded and needed some kind of administrative intervention so that their patients didn't end up in limbo.

This is a privilege. I'm a native English speaker, and although I was worried about a serious illness, I didn't have any serious symptoms. I had the ability and the stamina to force action in the system, and my doing so meant that other patients, not so well situated as I was, would not be stuck where I had been, with fewer resources to get un-stuck.

The surgeon who did the biopsy was great. He removed my mass. It was a gross lump of yellowy-red gunk in formaldehyde. He even let me photograph it before it went to pathology (warning, gross):

https://www.flickr.com/photos/doctorow/54038418981/

They told me that the pathology would take 2-5 days. I reloaded the "test results" tab in the KP website religiously after 48 hours. Nothing was updated. After five days, I called the surgical department (I had been given a direct number to reach them in case of postsurgical infections, and made a careful note of it).

It turned out that the pathology report had been in hand for three days at that point, but it was "preliminary" pending some DNA testing. Still, it was enough that the surgeon referred me to an oncologist.

This was my third mistake: I should have called after 48 hours and asked whether the pathology report was in hand, and if not, whether they could check with pathology. However, I did something very right this time: I got a phone number to reach the specialist directly, rather than going through the Kaiser main number.

My oncologist appointment was very reassuring. The oncologist explained the kind of cancer I had ("follicular lymphoma"), the initial prognosis (very positive, though it was weird that it manifested on my rib, so far from a lymph node) and what needed to happen next (a CT/PET scan). He also walked me through the best, worst and medium-cases for treatment, based on different scan outcomes. This was really good, as it helped me think through how I would manage upcoming events – book tours, a book deadline, work travel, our family Christmas vacation plans – based on these possibilities.

The oncologist gave me a number for Kaiser Nuclear Medicine. I called them from the parking lot before leaving the Kaiser hospital and left a message for the scheduler to call me back. Then I drove home.

This was my fourth mistake. The Kaiser hospital in LA is the main hub for Kaiser Southern California, and the Nuclear Medicine department was right there. I could have walked over and made an appointment in person.

Instead, I left messages daily for the next five days, waited a weekend, then called up my oncologist's staff and asked them to intervene. I also called Kaiser Member Services and filed an "urgent grievance" (just what it sounds like) and followed up by filing a complaint with the California Patient Advocate:

https://www.dmhc.ca.gov/

In both the complaint and the grievance, I made sure to note that the outgoing message at Nuclear Medicine scheduling was giving out false information (it said, "Sorry, all lines are busy," even at 2am!). Again, I was really careful to say that the action I was hoping for was both a prompt appointment for me (my oncologist had been very insistent upon this) but also that this was a very broken system that would be letting down every patient, not me, and it should be fixed.

Within a couple hours, I had a call back from KP grievances department, and an hour after that, I had an appointment for my scan. Unfortunately, that was three weeks away (so much for my oncologist's "immediate" order).

I had the scan last week, on Hallowe'en. It was really cool. The gadget was awesome, and the rad-techs were really experienced and glad to geek out with me about the way the scanner and the radioactive glucose they infused in me interacted. They even let me take pictures of the scan visualizations:

https://www.flickr.com/photos/doctorow/54108481109/

The radiology report was incredibly efficient. Within a matter of hours, I was poring over it. I had an appointment to see the doc on November 5, but I had been reading up on the scans and I was pretty sure the news was good ("No enlarged or FDG avid lymph nodes are noted within the neck, chest, abdomen, or pelvis. No findings of FDG avid splenic or bone marrow involvement").

There was just one area of concern: "Moderate FDG uptake associated with a round 1.3 cm left inguinal lymph node." The radiologist advised the oncologist to "consider correlation with tissue sampling."

Today was my oncology appointment. For entirely separate reasons, I was unable to travel to the hospital today: I wrenched my back over the weekend and yesterday morning, it was so bad that I couldn't even scratch my nose without triggering unbearable spams. After spending all day yesterday in the ER (after being lifted out of my house on a stretcher), getting MRIs and pain meds, I'm much better off, though still unable to get out of bed for more than a few minutes at a time.

So this morning at 8:30 sharp, I started calling the oncology department and appointment services to get that appointment changed over to a virtual visit. While I spent an hour trying various non-working phone numbers and unsuccessfully trying to get Kaiser appointment services to reach my oncologist, I tried to message him through the KP app. It turns out that because he is a visiting fellow and not staff, this wasn't possible.

I eventually got through to the oncology department and had the appointment switched over. The oncology nurse told me that they've been trying for months to get KP to fix the bug where fellows can't be messaged by patients. So as soon as I got off the phone with her, I called member services and filed another grievance. Why bother, if I'd gotten what I needed? Same logic as before: if you have the stamina and skills to demand a fix to a broken system, you have a duty to use them.

I got off the phone with my oncologist about an hour ago. It went fine. I'm going to get a needle biopsy on that one suss node. If it comes back positive, I'll get a few very local, very low-powered radiation therapy interventions, whose worst side effect will be "a mild sunburn over a very small area." If it's negative, we're done, but I'll get quarterly CT/PET scans to be on the safe side.

Before I got off the phone, I made sure to get the name of the department where the needle biopsy would be performed and a phone number. The order for the biopsy just posted to my health record, and now I'm redialing the department to book in that appointment (I'm not waiting around for them to call me).

While I redial, a few more lessons from my experience. First, who do you tell? I told my wife and my parents, because I didn't want to go through a multi-week period of serious anxiety all on my own. Here, too, I made a mistake: I neglected to ask them not to tell anyone else. The word spread a little before I put a lid on things. I wanted to keep the circle of people who knew this was going on small, until I knew what was what. There's no point in worrying other people, of course, and my own worry wasn't going to be helped by having to repeat, "Well, it looks pretty good, but we won't know until I've had a scan/my appointment/etc."

Next, how to manage the process: this is a complex, multi-stage process. It began with a physician appointment, then a radiologist, then a pathology report, then surgery, then another pathology report, then an oncologist, then a scan, then another radiologist, and finally, the oncologist again.

That's a lot of path-dependent, interdepartmental stuff, with a lot of ways that things can fall off the rails (when my dad had cancer at my age, there was a big gap in care when one hospital lost a fax from another hospital department and my folks assumed that if they hadn't heard back, everything was fine).

So I have been making extensive use of a suspense file, where I record what I'm waiting for, who is supposed to provide it, and when it is due. Though I had several places where my care continuity crumbled some, there would have been far more if I hadn't done this:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/10/26/one-weird-trick/#todo

The title of this piece is "how to have cancer," but what it really boils down to is, "things I learned from my own cancer." As I've noted, I'm playing this one on the easiest setting: I have no symptoms, I speak and write English fluently, I am computer literate and reasonably capable of parsing medical/technical jargon. I have excellent insurance.

If any of these advantages hadn't been there, things would have been a lot harder. I'd have needed these lessons even more.

To recap them:

See a frontline care worker as soon as possible: don't wait for an appointment with a specific MD. Practically any health worker can prod a lump and refer you for further testing;

Get a direct phone number for every specialist you are referred to (add this to your phone book); call them immediately after the referral to get scheduled (better yet, walk over to their offices and schedule the appointment in person);

Get a timeframe as to when your results are due and when you can expect to get a follow-up; call the direct number as soon as the due-date comes (use calendar reminders for this);

If you can't get a call back, an appointment, or a test result in a reasonable amount of time (use a suspense file to track this), lodge a formal complaint with your insurer/facility, and consider filing with the state regulator;

Think hard about who you're going to tell, and when, and talk over your own wishes about who they can tell, and when.

As you might imagine, I've spent some time talking to my parents today as these welcome results have come in. My mother is (mostly) retired now, and she's doing a lot of volunteer work on end-of-life care. She recommends a book called Hope for the Best, Plan for the Rest: 7 Keys for Navigating a Life-Changing Diagnosis:

https://pagetwo.com/book/hope-for-the-best-plan-for-the-rest/

I haven't read it, but it looks like it's got excellent advice, especially for people who lack the self-advocacy capabilities and circumstances I'm privileged with. According to my mom, who uses it in workshops, there's a lot of emphasis on the role that families and friends can play in helping someone whose physical, mental and/or emotional health are compromised.

So, that's it. I've got cancer. No cancer is good. This cancer is better than most. I am almost certainly fine. Every medical professional I've dealt with, and all the administrative support staff at Kaiser, have been excellent. Even the doc who dropped the ball on my biopsy was really good to deal with – she was just clearly drowning in work. The problems I had are with the system, not the people. I'm profoundly grateful to all of them for the help they gave me, the interest and compassion they showed, and the clarity and respect they demonstrated in my dealings with them.

I'm also very grateful to my wife, my parents, and my boss at EFF, all of whom got the news early and demonstrated patience, love, and support that helped in my own dark hours over the past couple of months.

I hope you're well. But you know, everyone gets something, eventually. When you find yourself mired in a broken system full of good people, work the system – for yourself and for the people who come behind you. Take records. Make calls.

Look after yourself.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/11/05/carcinoma-angels/#squeaky-nail

[beardysuits]

Piece of Jake

Logan has hated his body his entire life. Obese, gay, and a shut in have been a terrible combination for him. He decides becoming his sexy roommate Jake may be just what he needs to build up his confidence.

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

I’ve had a crush on Jake for… well forever I guess. I guess that’s one of the perks of being a part of the same class every year since kindergarten; you get to see the cute boys become cute men. Then there was the downside of that, that anybody who bullied you from kindergarten will decide to do it until you graduate. They’ll do it for anything too; being gay, being fat, your race, your wealth. I was lucky enough to get 3 out of the 4 for about 12 years now. However, I’m ready for that to change.

See I was blessed with a fantastic combination of having a slow metabolism, and an anxiety which I decided to soothe with eating. The result has left me to be a 19 year old with a BMI of 42. And yeah, BMI is bullshit if you’re stacked with muscle, but I had the rolls and pudge to prove there was some truth to it. Combine this with the fact that I was more queer than a midnight premier of Rocky Horror, and I came out to be not the most popular guy in school. I thought that would all change once I went to college, but freshman year was hell. I essentially spent the entire time in my dorm room, locked up in the dark and playing video games. But, I guess it wasn’t all that bad.

See, back to Jake. Jake kept his status quo of being one of the top dogs from the ages of 5 to 18. Baseball star, debate captain, and voted “most likely to succeed” by our peers. Top all of that off that he was on of the few people who actually wasn’t a total ass to me, and you can see why I was head over heels for him. He was straight of course, and even if there was a touch of bisexuality in him, he would never be interested in me. Now color me surprised when I found out that not only were we going to the same college, but we got randomly assigned to be roommates in the dorms! I was astounded, it was like there really was an astral force looking out for me. 

So for almost the entirety of our freshman year, we chit chatted here and there, but Jake was almost never home. Instead, he was working to get himself into one of the fraternities and move into the house. While I was sad to not have as much time to admire Jake as I would like, that did give me the opportunity to go through his stuff. Mostly his closet. Jake wore the usual clothes you’d expect, hoodies, jerseys, wrangler jeans and the like. However, being that he was on the baseball team at the college, I found his stash of jockstraps he wore for practice. And good god, thank goodness laundry day was only once a week. The other 6 days I had a full time supply of used jocks to sniff and fantasize with. 

I even tried to put one of them on in a hormone-fueled rage, but my thighs were probably the same mass as his entire body, and I couldn’t get the damn thing on. The longer I admired Jake and saw him for who he was, the more my love for him grew. With that, so did my jealousy. Jake was everything I wanted. He was fit, cool, and could get any guy he wanted if he even batted an eye at them. My time alone did prove to give me an opportunity to do some research however. 

See, I’ve tried for a long, long, long time to get fit on my own. Watching my diet, exercise, starving myself. But, nothing would work. That’s when I started to look for more, creative solutions. I came across a blog hidden deep on the web which talked about taking another person’s form. Most of these seemed bogus, but I had to try. I found one eventually from a user, “Magic_Mann_720” who shared a potion, once which he claimed could turn anybody into a bodysuit. I was about to just toss it aside, but after looking at my desk and seeing the empty bag of McDonald’s staring back at me, I said fuck it. 

In all honesty, brewing a magic potion was easier than I assumed it would be, and after just a few short weeks of waiting for unusual supplies to arrive in the mail, I had a vial of the stuff at my whim. Now, who could I possibly give this to? No, not Jake. But also, maybe? Would that make me the worst person imaginable if I slipped this to him? He was one of the few good people I had come across, I couldn’t betray him like that. However, I saw one glimpse of his jock hanging from his hamper, and doubts crossed my mind. It was staring back at me, taunting me with how tight it fucking was. I had to wear it, and I only knew of one body it would perfectly fit. 

He was like clockwork, especially early in the morning when he made his preworkout and went off to the gym at 6 in the morning. I set my alarm for 5:50, just early enough to slip the potion into his drink before he woke up and set off. It was of course impossible to wake up so early in the morning, but somehow I managed to silence my alarm without waking Jake. 

I fumbled around in the dark and found his shake he made the night before. I had slept with the vial under my pillow, though I could barely sleep from the anticipation of my task today. Being careful to not wake him, I unscrewed the lid, dumped the contents of the vial into the jar, and shook it up. I had just laid back in my bed when his alarm woke him up. I kept my eyes closed, hoping to trick him into thinking I was asleep. I heard him stumble around the room, getting his bearings, getting dressed. I couldn’t resist popping one eye open to see his lithe frame as he found a tank and basketball shorts. 

He was already wearing boxers, but if my plan went accordingly, he never would wear such loose fitting underwear again. I heard him grab his shake, and my heart began to race. The pop of the lid went off, and I strained my ears to listen to him drain the contents quickly and quietly. The lid closed and just as I heard the doorknob turn, there was the sound of heavy stomps. I opened my eyes a bit wider to see Jake stumbling around, trying to get his bearings. 

“Hey… Logan?” Jake said weakly. I pretended to wake up and rose from bed, seeing him lean against his desk. 

“Jake? You okay?” I asked him. He turned his head to me, panting. 

“I d-don’t feel good man,” he said between breaths. “Get.. get help. Help.. me..” He slumped to the ground, and while I anticipated a loud thud as his jock body slammed to the ground, it was a soft thump, like that of clothes tossed to the ground. For a moment, I hesitated to creep any closer, afraid of what I would find. I mustered up the courage to turn on the bedside lamp and found a near horrifying site by the door. 

There on the ground was Jake, but he was flat as a pancake. He arms and legs stretched out, head deflated, and the clothes he was wearing were atop of him in a pile. I tiptoed to the body, already feeling regret in what I had done. Fuck why did I do this to him? Was I really so driven by my own lust I essentially just killed a good guy? 

My own footsteps were much heavier than Jakes, making the floorboards creek. I kicked at the body, the skin feeling as alive as ever, but made no movement of its own. I got on my knees, and with the tips of my fingers, grabbed Jake’s hair and pulled his head up. I was met with Jake’s face, his eyes now hollow sockets and mouth agape. I dropped the skin and scuttled back in fear. Fuck fuck fuck, it’s so god damn creepy! I took a few deep breaths and crawled on my hands and knees to the body once more. 

I tried to be more confident this time, grabbing him by his shoulders, and pulling him up as I struggled to stand. Jake was of similar height to me, so once I was fulling standing, I leaned the face to my mine, the tips of his toes still slumped on the floor. You know, it’s less creepy now. Jake was always a cutie, and even as a husk of himself he was irresistible. It was too late now, and while I felt bad about what I had done, I did it with a purpose. The issue now was, how the hell did I fit inside? Speaking of, would I fit at all?

I pulled at his cheek and found it to be rather elastic. My curiosity piqued, and I pulled at the corners of his mouth, which stretched at least a foot wide when I put some effort in. That gave me an idea. I quickly took off my shirt and briefs, catching my reflection in the standing mirror as I did so. God damn it, I was so fucking fat. My stomach hung out in front of me, almost covering my pathetic cock. Ass was as wide as trailer, neck rolls which made it seem like my head sat straight on my shoulders. Tits bigger than most girls I went to school with. This was my last chance to do something about it. 

I sat on my bed, laying Jake down in front of me like a pair of pants. Stepping one foot into Jake’s mouth, I stretched it further and further until my thick calves were encompassed by his lips. Grabbing at his chest, I pulled him further up my leg, already running out of breath as I did so. This was a workout on its own. I remember watching videos of guys slipping into wetsuits when I was a teenager, it was a slight fetish of mine. I loved seeing the neoprene cling to their slim figures. Those guys would go inch by inch yanking the suit further up them, so I went ahead and mirrored the practice. 

I found doing so actually made the process easier. Soon enough, my foot aligned with Jake’s. I shimmied his calves to match mine, but it was so incredibly tight. It was like my leg was vacuum sealed inside of him, crushing the fat around my leg down to match his. I began to pant, scared I was cutting off all circulation. I was so scared to look down and see something horrific, but shot a glance and was amazed by what I saw. There, my right leg was pristine. It was a mirror image of Jake’s which I had stared at so often when he wore shorts. I wiggled my toes, and Jake’s did the same motion. 

Kicking my leg around, the pain began to subside, and I could see up to my knee, it was like I had worked out my entire life. I could feel the beaming smile creep across my face as I stretched Jake’s mouth open wide again to shove my other foot inside. Now that I had some practice, my left leg was far easier to work with and soon enough, I had two sets of legs which were built from years of baseball practices and running. My thighs proved to be another issue entirely, practically twice the twice of my calves. 

I stood up from the bed, almost falling over from my balance being so off. Grabbing at Jake’s stomach, I jumped up and down a few times, his skin stretching and sliding over me with his lurch. My I stuck my hand down the inside of Jake’s mouth, the feeling of my now erect cock sliding against the inside of Jake. Although I wasn’t generously endowed, it still hurt to have it crushed inside of him. I found Jake’s cock, and while deflated, certainly overshadowed mine in length and girth. With one hand on the outside, and the other inside, I guided mine into his like a sheath. 

It was the most orgasmic feeling I had ever experienced. Jake’s cock went from looking like a flattened worm, to coming to full erection. He was at least seven inches long, and despite mine being half the size, somehow felt like it was filled entirely. It was beet red from anticipation, and while I wanted to cum right here and now, I had to finish what I started. I turned to the mirror once more, and was shocked by what I saw. From the waist up, I was still fat fuck Logan, but from the lower half, I was built like a god damn star. My new cock swung side to side, stiff as a board, and my ass, while squeezed in like a sausage, now was as perky as if I squatted 300 lbs. I turned and slapped Jake’s ass, watching as the taut skin slapped me back. All hints of cellulite gone. 

Finally was the part I was most afraid of, my stomach. It hung over the edge of Jake’s body, the flap of my stomach going over Jake’s lips. I sucked it in, which did practically nothing. Taking one of my arms, I pushed it as far in as I could, and used my other hand to pull the lips of Jake’s mouth up. I groaned in pain, feeling like a rubber band was squishing me in and threatening to cut me in half. Somehow though, his head moved up and moved. It was by inches and incredibly painful. Once I reached my belly button, I found a system to make it easier. Moving him up further and further, I finally reached my chest before I had to fall onto the bed. 

I was breathing heavier than ever, and drenched in sweat from what was left of my original body. I felt Jake’s, and he was as dry as ever, as he would never be worn out from such a task. I counted down from ten and hoisted myself up, catching my sight in the mirror. My moobs hung over Jake’s torso, but it was like I was wearing a skin corset. I rubbed my had over my new stomach, feeling how flat it was. In fact, I would even see the beginnings of a six pack bulging out. It was surreal, I don’t think I’ve been this thing since… ever. I took a deep breath and worked to shove each of my tits down Jake’s mouth. 

Each of them was a chore on their own, but eventually, all that was left were my arms and head. I don’t know how that would work, but if I made it this far, it was certainly possible. It would be tough as I would lose an arm at a time trying to slide them in. Taking my right one first, I wriggled my fingers inside, pushing them down Jake’s like a skin tight glove. With each inch my fingers slid in, it was easier and easier as I gained Jake’s strength. Eventually, the fingers found their way into his. I pulled at his bicep, as stretchy as the rest of him, and snapped it into place, enclosing my arm. 

I rushed to do the same with my left and with my newfound strength, found this section to be the easiest. I was almost done. Jake’s lips were around my neck, and I had to use his fingers to make sure he didn’t choke me. I glanced at the mirror, and found Jake with my head. I turned my body around, admiring his form. I had taken several sneaky glances at him as he changed, but to have full autonomy, to see his tattoo on his thigh, the way his veins popped in his hands, the curvature of his muscles, it was like I was being treated to a feast. 

“Goodbye Logan,” I told myself. I don’t know if I would come back from this. Or, if I would even want to. I took a deep breath and shimmied his head up my own. The same tight sensation took over my entire headspace and it was like a migraine hit me. Using my hands, I smushed my face around, placing my nose into his, eyes, lips. I fluttered my eyelids and had to refocus my vision. Going to the mirror was a picture perfect reflection of Jake. 

“Holy shit,” I said. Oh fuck, that was still my voice. I guess that wouldn’t have changed. I don’t know how I could pull off Jake’s voice, but I would have to practice it. I looked at the corner of my mouth, seeing my original lips peak through Jake’s. I took a finger, stretching and pulling it into place.

There, I was Jake. Fuck I was Jake! I laughed and rubbed my arms across my body, watching as Jake did it in the mirror. 

I spent a good ten minutes trying different poses and watching as Jake bent to my will. Sniffing his pits, making funny faces, bending over and showing off my new hole to myself. That last one sent me over the edge and I knew I had to blow off the steam which had built up. I sat on the bed and hoisted my legs up, cradling the back of my knees in my hands. I could never have even thought about attempting that in my old body, but as Jake, I felt so lithe. My smile was beaming in between my legs as I puckered my hole. I had to see what this looked like. I wanted to see Jake be pathetic now. I twisted my face to match that of so many porn actors I had watched alone in this room. 

“Ohhhh… oh fuck me daddy,” I said, begging, watching Jake’s eyes as they wished desperately for a fat cock to fill him up. I split into my hand and began to pump my new cock, already slick and slimy from precum. I stuck a finger in my mouth and wet it before sliding it over my hole and slicking it up. I had plenty of experience playing with my old hole, but I always struggled to get my arm in a position to really get deep in. Jake didn’t have that problem though. I started to finger fuck myself, watching as Jake became his own bitch. 

“Oh fuck daddy, fuck me. Fuck me!” I yelled, the point of climax racing through my cock before I could even react. Laces of cum shot out and started to drench my body, reaching even to my face and getting into my hair. I pulled my finger out of my hole, let go of my cock, and felt it rest against my thigh. There in the reflection was Jake, covered in his own cum and looking like a bitch. 

I giggled, knowing I should feel far more guilty about what I had done, but too high on my own bliss to care. After bathing in my glory, I decided to clean Jake up and explore his body some more. I grabbed one of his towels and left the room, still naked. Walking down the dorm hall to the bathroom, it was still dead silent. Logan would have been petrified at the idea of being caught naked by somebody, but Jake? Well Jake now hoped somebody would see him and be jealous. 

Getting into the bathroom, I passed by Brad, another guy on our floor, who had a towel wrapped around his waist, still glistening from his shower. 

“Jake, the fuck?” He asked. I couldn’t pull off Jake’s voice yet, but I gave him a pat on the shoulder and winked at him as I pushed past. For a second I caught a glimpse of him checking out my body before he shook his head and rushed out to his room. I went to one of the mirrors in the bathroom and knelt over, posing and kissing at myself. Jake was going to become a lot more playful it seemed. 

I took my time in the shower, feeling every crevice of Jake’s body and feeling myself up. And of course, stretching out his hole some more to work him up to taking a real dick. Maybe by one of his new frat brothers I need to meet. Once I got back to our room, I knew there was only one thing left on my to do list of the morning. I went to Jake’s hamper and pulled out the jock which was mocking me just hours before. I sniffed at, Jake’s pheromones becoming mine. 

I slipped both legs down and had no trouble at all this time adjusting my bulge and feeling the elastic hug my jock thighs. I snapped one of the bands, feeling a sheer run my spine as I did so. Slipping one of his black shirts on, I went for Jake’s phone, which thankfully could be opened with just his face. I snapped a few pictures for myself to look at whenever I pleased. Now, how about we download Grindr to it and see what this new body can pull?

[a1ecmcdowell]

coincidence — rafe cameron x pogue!reader!

part of the short n' sweet x obx collection, found here!

ㅤㅤㅤㅤincludes, pogue!reader. cheating. sad!rafe :(. i promise i love sofia.

❛ what a surprise - your phone died, and your car drove itself from l.a. to between her thighs! ❜

you and rafe were a bit tumultuous. he loved you in private, and he loved you so much that it sometimes ached, like the sweetest form of violence. 

but in public, he could never manage to switch off the part of his brain that rejected every pogue he came across like he did when you two were alone. it was like he was more concerned about what his friends thought of him and his relationship than he did about your feelings. 

he was pulling back. you could see the signs of it in the ways he started having excuses to keep you from coming over, how his hand would subtly slip from yours when you were out together. 

and you couldn’t just pick apart his brain and fix whatever the problem was, because he didn’t talk to you enough anymore to let you in. 

you didn’t know if you were even still together, but he wouldn’t just ghost you a year into your relationship. he couldn’t. 

you’d decided the night before that you were just going to show up and demand an answer from him. it would probably be a fight, you knew; but what could hurt more than being with someone that didn’t want you any longer? 

that next morning was cloudy gray and speckled with misty raindrops. it didn’t feel like a very good omen about what was coming, but it didn’t slow your footsteps up his porch.

your hand raises to knock on the door at the same moment that it pulls open, and out stumbles — a girl. short brown hair, pretty glossed lips, wearing nothing but a pink bikini top and denim shorts. 

and behind the open door, strong hand wrapped around the edge of it, is rafe. smiling at her like he hadn’t smiled at you in weeks. 

the smile falls the moment his eyes lift to you, and the girl apologizes as she dodges running into you, and it all feels like a big fucking slap in the face. 

he’d been the best part of your life for so long. this hope that you could be more than the cut. and all of this time, he was waiting for the moment that he could dump you back off on your side of outer banks.

“why didn’t you call?” he asks, like that’s the first thing anyone should say when they’re caught cheating. 

you can’t tell if you’re more angry or hurt. both emotions feel like a hot, heavy weight sat right on your sternum. “you don’t answer anymore.” 

“because i’m busy.” 

there’s no remorse in his eyes. actually, you can’t even tell if there is, because he’s looking away from you like he’s already cut you from the picture of his life. 

“what, screwing other girls?” you snap, your voice biting and raw. 

his jaw flexes, tongue pressing into his cheek. “it’s complicated.” 

“i don’t think it is, rafe.” you shake your head, your lips pressed into a tight line. “you were cheating, and you’re mad you’re caught.” 

“oh, you think it’s that simple, huh?” he takes a step closer, his frame taking up the entirety of the doorway. “y’think overnight i just started thinking about wanting to fuck someone else?” 

you falter. no, he’s not going to get away with flipping this on its head and blaming you. making you apologize. 

“you can’t just blame me because you don’t want to take responsibility—” 

his fist slams against the wooden doorframe, and you flinch, because this really was going to be as volatile as you thought. you’d hoped that you were wrong, but you were right, and he was angry that you weren’t just some stupid little pogue he could manipulate. 

“i am taking responsibility. yeah, i fucked sofia,” he seethes through his clenched teeth, “yeah, i’ve been sneakin’ around, what the fuck else do you want to hear?” 

your arms wrap around your chest, and you have to resist the urge to stumble backwards. sofia, sofia, sofia. it plays in your head on a loop, the girl he deemed worth ruining what you had for. 

“why?” is all that you can manage to say. 

his eyes finally drop down to look at you. they’re so blue in the dawning sunrise that you wish, wish, things were different right now, so you could smooth the creases in the corners of his eyes. “m’not good for you.” 

“bullshit.” you spit it out before he’d even finished speaking. “if i thought that, i wouldn’t have stuck around as long as i have. i wouldn’t be sticking around now.” 

“you shouldn’t,” he says just as violently serious as the last, “i’m— i’m trying to push you away, sweetheart—” 

sweetheart. 

it shouldn’t affect you like it does, after how he’d just hurt you like this. but it does, of course it does, because you loved him like the sun loved the moon, and even when he was trying to break this, you’d always be in his orbit. 

“you can’t,” your voice is small as it leaves your lips, but your words aren’t, “i’m not goin’ anywhere. this is one good thing you can’t ruin. not on my watch.” 

he stares at you with that intense blue gaze of his for a long minute. the seconds tick by like hours while you wait for him to say anything. 

and he doesn’t — not with his words, anyway. his arms move from the doorway and encircle your waist, tugging you into a tight embrace. 

you’d known about how much he struggled with wanting acceptance, craving validation that he never got. you’d never expected him to be so used to rejection that he tried to cause it himself, just to be in that familiar place again. 

“m’sorry, sweetheart,” he whispers into your hair, pressing his lips to the crown of your head and leaving them there. “don’t deserve you. i don’t.” 

“you will, and you do,” you push, your fingers curling tightly against his spine. “when you go wash her perfume off of you.” 

his laugh cracks, but it’s a laugh, so you feel better about this. about him. about where he’s at in his head. “of course.” 

“and delete her number.” 

his hands raise to your face, framing it between his large palms. “already did it, baby. but you’re real cute when you’re jealous.”

[schoenpepper]

How about for our early xmas gift, you give us a version where Yuu comes back to twst again🙂

(You broke my heart po💔)

Maybe This Time

Intro: Everything changed after you left. But maybe he still stayed the same.

Warnings: bad grammar, awful writing, not proofread, jade is veryy bad, kinda yandere ish

A/N: Counted as a sequel to this, though you can probably read it as a standalone. Sige na nga anonnie merry xmas happy new year nlng sayo haha. Maybe this tiiiime it'll be lovin' they'll find—*gets shot*

Masterlist

Jade forgets what it's like to live.

The day you left, all color drained from the world he resides in. Rather, your absence pushed him from being an active participant into one that only watches.

Still, it only takes him a day to get back to work.

"You can take a longer break."

He waves off Azul with such a well-practiced smile even he might believe it. "I don't need a break. What is it for, even? There's no use reminiscing over such boring things."

Boring.

Boring boring boring.

The word makes him livid. It makes him seethe with a burning, passionate anger he was unaware was even stored within him. Maybe that's why you left. Maybe Jade failed to excite you. He and his brother are people that stay because of interest, so perhaps the reason you left was because Jade could no longer interest you. Is that it?

Why else?

Why else would you shatter him the first chance that you get?

It takes him one week to forget.

Not you. Sevens know he'll never forget you. You were a whirlwind that crashed through everything he knew and smashed him to smithereens. It takes him a week to forget that he's still hiding his pain.

He forgets he's in pain.

You're a rotting, festering wound that he's buried under layers of pretend. He's such a good actor even Floyd is—

"Stop cryin'."

Well. Maybe not Floyd. Jade raises a hand to his cheek and finds no tears. "You weren't crying. But I made you look, right?" Floyd grins, "Hurry and pack. Maybe nonna can help you get over shrimpy. She's real good at life advice~"

He's sure life advice won't help, but it wouldn't hurt (any more) to try.

The waters of the Coral Sea are frigid. It doesn't numb him enough when he's so used to it, but it's alright. He's fine, anyway. There's no more regret. No more bitter hatred. Only the familiar salt of the ocean water. His parents mean well when they fret over him, asking his twin brother for details. His grandmother is worriedly chattering over his shoulder, and he's made aware that he's unable to fool them this time. He's good at pretending. His family couldn't pick out his faux smiles when he's entangled in mischief, nor could they identify the mock innocence he likes to act out when he gets into fights with other mer. But now, why now? Why are they able to press their hand on that beating, dead thing in his chest and attempt to comfort it when the only thing it wants to do is wallow and wither in nothingness?

They couldn't tell when he was pretending to be good.

But they can tell that he's pretending to be okay.

It doesn't make sense.

It takes one month for everything to fall back in routine. Sleeping potions and pills and spells aid in nights when he's preoccupied with memories of a person he wished never existed at all.

His grades are higher than they'd ever been, and he's so ridiculously productive. It's all on track. Everything is just as it was before you. There was a time in his life before you. He can fill in the empty spot you'd left behind with dirt and the pieces of himself you'd killed that fateful day.

And thus, there will be a time after you.

"Jade," Azul hands him a familiar plush toy, "Floyd told me to give this back to you."

The felt shrimp plushie is mocking him; there is no other explanation. It's one half of a pair, actually. In some dingy arcade in town was a claw machine filled with small mushroom, shrimp, egg, onion, and garlic plushies. The owner called the machine "shrimp fried crane game". You were the one to win one mushroom plushie you kept for yourself, and you gave him the shrimp.

The mushroom was in your suitcase.

In his rampage (he wouldn't call it that, really), he had destroyed everything that reminded him of you that same night, or rather, early morning. He watched polaroids and love letters burn inside a metal dumpster he'd hauled from school grounds. The shrimp wasn't part of the bonfire.

It seems Floyd had snuck it away.

He inspects the toy with his usual smile, tight-lipped and close-eyed, nodding at Azul. He wants it out of his sight for a long, long time. If it could feel as forgotten as he felt, let those feelings be transferred to you. He wishes you pain and agony and guilt and regret.

It takes one year for him to let out a genuine chuckle.

His twin brother stares at him like he'd grown a second head, and Jade is aware it's unusual. Even though the joke he'd laughed at was so inane, the fact of the matter was that he laughed, which in itself is so strange. Perhaps this is a good thing. No, it can only be a good thing. What is it if not a sign that he's healing?

And soon, he won't remember you at all.

And you will cease to exist in his mind.

But it's not meant to happen today.

No, with that little laugh, grief like several tonnes of cement hit him right where it hurts the most; it's heavy, and debilitating, and it makes it nigh impossible for him to even breathe.

(Because you were the air he once consumed, and neither humans nor mer are made for such long term suffocation.)

"I've never seen you laugh before," the young man in front of him smiles with thick, syrupy lovesickness, "it suits you."

The person is an underclassman who'd been following him around recently. Like a poor mockup of your silhouette, he hears the same promises you couldn't keep from the mouth of another. It irks him more than he'd like to admit, because if he does, then it means admitting that he still remembers you. It means he still holds you up in his altar and lights flames in your name.

He does not.

Whoever says otherwise, whether it be Floyd or Azul, or Silver or Riddle; they all lie.

He only remembers you in anger. In bouts of madness that makes him question your existence, it is then that your name leaves his lips.

It takes one decade.

For what?

For forgiveness? For the hate to fade?

On his 27th birthday, his phone rings with a number he's long since engraved in his heart.

Jade forgot how to live in your absence.

In the decade you'd left, he only existed. It is a passive state of consistent routine that allows him to appear normal to his peers. Still, his closest people know he was left incomplete. He became a creature without a sense of purpose, and it was a sad thing. How pitiful it was for a predator to be reduced to a vessel containing shards of a broken heart.

Still, it is your name that he finds. It is your number.

A number from a phone kept in some dark corner of NRC's storage room. It's likely a student who decided to scroll through your contacts and found his contact name amusing. You did have quite the strange penchant for putting strange names in your contact list.

He answers the call in a moment of boredom.

There is nothing interesting to do in a business party.

"Hello? Jade?"

He stops. There is nothing in this world or yours that could erase each and every memory he's ever made with you. The voice is one he's heard often and dreams and even more in nightmares; it has replaced the voice of his dead conscience and pushed him to a meaningless drifting existence instead of finding thrill in things you would despise him for.

It's been a decade and instead of forgetting you, he didn't know when he melded you into his bones and stitched you into the fabric of his soul, but he knows you more than he knows himself.

"I'm back."

There is no more bitter hatred. There is no more regret.

"Can you pick me up?"

In one moment, it all dissipates into nothingness and there is only you.

Jade remembers how to breathe again. He feels that withered thing in his chest beat once more, and he feels alive.

It takes one decade for you to return.

And he didn't know he was waiting for you, but then, what could every second without you have meant if not just an endless eternity of patiently waiting?

"Did you see my message?"

"I did."

"Are you not afraid I'll make good on my promise?"

"I've never been afraid of you."

Yet, perhaps you should be. He may no longer despise you with every fiber of his being, but you'd betrayed him and lost his trust. There will be no more second chances. You will stay unlike before, and if he must break every mirror in the world to ensure his heart remains beating, then it will be all too easy.

Taglist:

@yummyyummyinmytumny @lemon-koii @fsh1

[we-were-beautiful]

Unraveled Ends Chapter 2

Pre chapter Shenanigans 

a/n: Sooooo long time no post but I'm here now and that's what matters. Writers block hit me like a brick wall after my last piece that I did for the riders quadrant fic exchange back in July, that piece was only supposed to be 3k in words but ended up around 7.8k. I had been working on this chapter at the same time and had roughly 2k words but after I got through the edits on the gift fic couldn't seem to string together a coherent sentence much less moving the plot forward. all my photos for the moodboard/aesthetic come from pinterest. Last bit of info is that we did pick up two beta readers for this story( but I am always open for more if people want to hop in). So big Thanks to @loving-and-dreaming and @curse-bearing-hips for reviewing this chapter. That said we are all still human so there is more than likely some mistakes. And a huge thanks to @whisplion for inspiring me to write this fic. Hope y’all enjoy  

Summary: A tailor in the heart of Velaris finds herself mated to the two most powerful fae in Prythian. Unfortunately for her the mating bond only snapped for her, leaving her to question on how to move forward. Should she wait for her mates to feel the bond or should she go ahead and reject it and live with the gaping hole in her heart  

Poly!Feysand x Reader 

Warnings: None but there is angst

WC:3.1k

The next few weeks are nothing short of hell. I didn’t know pretending like nothing is wrong would be as exhausting as it has been. It was a never ending cycle of waking up, getting ready, going to work, and coming home. At work I was dancing a fine line of hiding everything from my seamstresses and sister and failing miserably. The only small mercy that I have had was that I haven’t had to see my mates. Thank the mother for that; I don’t know how I would have reacted to seeing them so soon after the bond had snapped. Not seeing them however did nothing to dampen the feelings that the two of them would throw down the bond unknowingly. Deep down  I know that they didn’t mean to send those memories and feelings to me, but on a good day it makes me sick to my stomach. I don’t know why it has gotten worse. I was fine for a year of burying the feelings that I have for the two down.

They were so happy together, and I don’t have a place in their perfect lifestyle. I thought that I had seen them around town a lot when they were just my customers but now it felt like every time I turned around they were there. It has increased since they came in to get their outfits for Starfall designed. I swear I ran into Rhys yesterday when I went to get lunch for myself. I ran into Feyre the other night while I was getting the groceries for my sisters and me. The two of them had actually approached me a week ago while I was at the park with my baby sister. They had little Nyx with them then and it felt like someone had taken a hold of my heart and started squeezing. The babe was adorable at two years of age. He's starting to reign terror on his parents who had apparently decided he needed to run off his energy at the park. The two of them are far more friendly with people than I would have liked, but mostly that friendliness was targeted towards me. As they joined me on the bench sandwiching me between them. They ended up chatting my ear off for the better part of an hour. There brushes of hands against my body that were too well placed to be incidental. It felt like a vice clamping down around my heart as I left the park with my sister to head home. Feyre had wanted me to stay a bit longer so that she could continue talking to me about my sketches. 

The physical interactions with them weren't the worst thing though. It was the images and emotions that the two had unknowingly sent down the bond. It wasn’t unusual to get a flash of lust from one of them at any given time of the day. It was inconvenient to just get hit with the overwhelming need for someone when I’m with clients. Late at night though I get the images. Of my mates tangled up in pleasure. Sometimes it was flashes of Feyre's face screwed up in pleasure; other of Rhys’s eyes alight with lust and desire. Those nights sleep was hard to come by. A few of those nights I found myself back in the shop working on my clients orders, anything to keep my mind from lingering on the two people that didn’t know I was bound to them.  I was surprised to be receiving so much from them down the bond given that both of them are powerful Demati. I figured that they would be skilled at keeping to themselves. 

Last night was one of those sleepless nights. It was a damn near endless barrage of want and need coming from both of them. If I hadn’t known that their mating bond had been accepted between them I would have assumed that they had accepted it last night. I left a note for my middle sister in the kitchen before heading to the shop in the dead of night. Being the night court, plenty of people were milling about the streets and shops in the palace of thread and jewels. Thankfully it isn’t one of the nights we keep the shop open for those who live under the stars, I could work in peace and not be bothered by anyone. No customers, no seamstresses, no nosy sisters, and most importantly no over friendly mates or their friends. 

It was wonderful to sit in the shop and do what I love with my shadows dancing around me. The shadows had been my friends since I was a very small faeling. They were more shy when I was out in public but when it is just me they come to life and sing. I had only seen two other people like me. One was my maternal grandfather who was from a court that had long since been lost; and the other was Azriel. Grandfather was able to teach me how to control the shadows and use them to my advantage. But he also told me to keep the gift to myself. Shadowsingers had long been coveted by the courts to be used as spies; and he and my parents were worried that the former High Lord would have conscripted me into his spy network if it was ever found out. I had successfully kept it a secret for nearly 400 years. Though times like this, when the shop is closed and I have the room to myself, I let them loose. A soft smile grows on my face as I watch the playful shadows dance about the room. A few of them try to be helpful by handing me tools and instruments that I need as I work on Feyre’s Starfall gown. 

Feyre’s dress had been coming along beautifully. She had come in for a fitting last week where we were checking the fit on the mock up. The High Lady had all but begged to have a similar fabric to my own. We had more of the fabric left; thank gods for that; the last thing I wanted to do was take a trip to the Autumn court to source more. I lose track of time working on the dress; so much so that I didn’t realize the sun had risen until I heard the lock on the door turn. 

“Sis, are you still here?” Genevieve calls out. Of course she came here. “I saw your note on the counter this morning. I dropped Itty bitty off at school and brought breakfast.” 

I sigh and set my things down to make my way out of the work room. Genevieve stands in the room looking so much like our mother; hair tied up in a worn red scarf, a dark red linen shirt and comfortable leather trousers. Ready for a day at the blacksmith. In her hands she balances a bag of what I assume is the breakfast and two cups in the other. 

“Your shadows are so helpful I’m jealous.” She passes me one of the cups and I take a sniff and immediately am greeted by the comforting scent of coffee “ Were you here all night again?” 

It's not hard to hear the concern in her voice as she takes a once over of me. 

“Yes” I responded, taking a sip of the delicious coffee that she had brought. 

“Ok what is going on with you.” She cocks her head to the side “It seems like you have been stressed this past year. Well more so than normal. This is starting to get worrisome. The number of times you have left the house in the middle of the night and worked through to morning is ridiculous.”

“What’s going on? I know it's not money since I help with the books and we have two sources of income coming in.” She takes a breath. “You can talk to me Sis.” 

“Let's go into the office. The ladies should be coming in soon.” I led her into my office not wanting to state what was going on when one of my employees could walk in. Once we are in the office I gesture for her to take a seat in front of my desk. I take a seat and my chair, bones creaking as I sit on the soft leather. She fixes me with a look telling me to start talking. 

“So I met my mates.” I sigh running a hand through my hair 

“You met your mate. That's good news right.” She starts rifling through the bag of food 

“Mates. Two of them.” She stops looking up at me 

“Two. Is that possible?” Her eyebrows nearly disappear into her hairline. 

“It is.” I lean back in my chair. “Incredibly rare but possible.” 

“So let me repeat my earlier question. That’s good news right?” 

“It’s complicated.” I bite my lower lip “The two of them are already mated. Sealed the bond and everything. But the bond only snapped for me.” 

“They don’t know.” Her voice drops in concern 

“No,they don’t.” 

“So what is stressing you out about it? You wouldn’t be leaving the house in the middle of the night over nothing?” 

“They are sending things down the bond. Images, emotions; it’s driving me crazy Gen.” 

“Shit, well can you block them out.” Mom had taught the two of us how to shield from Demati when we were younger. 

“I’ve tried; it only is able to dull it.” I fidget in my seat.  “It also doesn’t help that I keep seeing the two of them every time I go out into the city.” 

“Oh..” She hesitates “Do you mind if I ask who it is.?”  I quickly sent a few shadows out to make sure that the shop was still empty and that there were no busy bodies lurking around the shop. 

“It's the High Lord and Lady.” This was the first time I had ever said those words out loud. I guess I had thought that if I didn’t say it then I could pretend it wasn’t real and that it didn’t bother me. Gen lets out a low whistle.

“That does complicate things. I was going to tell you to grow a pair and tell them but fuck. The High Lord and Lady that… that makes things way more complex.” 

“You see why I am stressed now.” I can feel the ugly emotions filling my chest.

“Yeah, you are in the world's shittiest situation.” She lets out a sigh “It's not like you can go up to them and say hey I am your mate. Fuck I am sorry Sis.” 

I let out a wet laugh, a few tears escaped my eyes and rolled down my cheeks “ There’s nothing for you to apologize for. I just got dealt a shitty hand by the mother.” 

“Are you going to…” She trails off. I know what she was going to say though. It wasn’t something that was talked about often and not in polite company. Rejecting the bond. 

“It’s an option, and I am considering it. I want to ask a few friends of mine in Day about it first though. Since it hasn’t snapped for them they shouldn’t notice but I would like some confirmation first.” It helped that I had friends in other courts that I could gather information from; and there was no better place for information than  the Day Court.

“I will support whatever decision you make. You deserve to be happy Sis, and if your happiness is achieved by breaking the bond then do it.” 

The conversation between us dies after that as she passes me a blueberry muffin from the bag. Seems she stopped by our favorite bakery before heading over here. Time seems to fly too quickly and all too soon Gen has to leave for work leaving me here by myself. Although I’m not on my own for too much longer as my employees start trickling in.

The day seems to stretch on and on as clients make their way into the shop for fittings or to pick up their orders. The dull chatter of my employees and the various customers buzzes in my ears as I methodically pull a small needle through water-like silk. It's hard to make out any distinguishable conversation from behind my office door. Today seems like one of those days when time is just suspended and I can work in peace. There is a quiet content hum from my mates bond; one of the few times that I haven't felt heightened emotions from either of them. 

A soft knock shatters the silence of the office, effectively breaking the spell of tranquility that had fallen over me 

“Come in.” My voice cracks just a bit from not using it. The door squeaks open as a familiar head of midnight hair pokes in. Violet eyes twinkle in amusement as a smile grows across his stupidly handsome face. 

“Sweetheart!” The door swings open the rest of the way as Rhysand swaggers his way into my office like he owns it. I am quick to stand from my desk. 

“High lord.” I give him a polite curtsy, slamming my mental shields up before meeting his gaze

“How many times do I have to tell you it's Rhys?” He laughs before taking a seat in one of the leather chairs in front of my desk. “ So are you ready for my fitting or should I come back later.”  

Shit… Shit shit shit. I had completely forgotten that he was on my books for his second fitting today. It wasn’t like I was completely unprepared. No his suit was ready for the fitting but I was nowhere near mentally prepared for a fitting and not having slept the night before was going to be the actual death of me. 

“No, you are fine.” I move from behind the desk “Let me go grab your suit and we will get you out of here in no time.” 

“No need to rush, I quite enjoy your company.” I cannot afford to focus on my racing heart right now. I need to get him out of this shop as quickly as possible. I move through the back of the shop with practiced ease quickly locating the High Lord’s suit hanging neatly next to the High Lady’s gown. The two pieces were works of art in themselves that compliment each other. The suit as dark as the night sky embossed fabric giving the illusion of swirling depths. The dress flowed off the hanger like liquid moonlight, the delicate silk the identical twin to my own gown. Small gems sewn into the bodice catch and reflect the light like the stars that will make their journey across the sky on Starfall. For as much as I don’t want to care about the two, these pieces tell a different story. If I wasn’t just a little bit attached to the two of them I would have passed the designs along to another dressmaker and been done with it; but now I painstakingly designed and sewn these garments for my mates. I let out a small sigh before reaching up to grab the suite. Once I get back to my office I am quick to pass the suit off to Rhys directing him to the small changing area at the back of the office. I quickly begin to route around my desk for my supplies.  

An hour, all I have to do is make it an hour and then I will be free of Rhysand for the time being. It feels like forever before he walks out from behind the curtain. It is only years of working with Rhysand that keeps me from gasping out. If the suit was beautiful on the hanger and dress form it is absolutely stunning on the male it was made for. Rhys makes his way over to the platform and mirror in the office stepping up before moving to fuss with the cuffs. 

“This is a beautiful suit Sweetheart.” He moves to pick off the smallest piece of lint on the  collar. I move to stand behind him to begin the process of adjusting the way the suit sits on Rhysand.

We continued the song and dance that we had done for many years to get the suit to fit him perfectly. I can't help the small ache in my chest as I circle around him placing pins and chalk lines where minute alterations need to be made. Rhys is beaming the whole time chatting away like we hadn’t seen each other just the other day. I can feel the long day in my bones, my hands ache from the countless hours of work. My fingertips are raw from the amount of times I have jammed pins and needles into them. While I try to appropriately match Rhys energy, it's easy to tell that he isn’t buying the act. 

“You seem tired.” He arches a brow at me as I move to pin the hem of his pants. 

“My mates kept me up last night.” A mischievous glint grows in his violet eyes.

“Oh. They kept you up .” He teased but hidden in the back of his teasing tone seemed to be a bit of jealousy… possessiveness. 

“Yeah the two of them kept sending all of their emotions down the bond last night.” I sigh looking up at him from my spot on the floor 

“Two mates…” He stumbles with his words. He hasn’t done that since he was a teen and I was helping my father with his fitting “The mother has blessed you.” 

“Blessed or cursed.” I put the pins down. 

“Cursed.” He questions

“The bond only snapped for me.” A small sad smile grows on my face.  My mental shields are intact and stronger than ever and it's not like I can tell Rhys that he and Feyre are my mates. 

“Have you told them?” He questions, holding a hand out to help me from the floor 

“No. The two of them have already sealed the bond and have started their own perfect little family.” It feels like an Illyrian has punched me in the gut as I make this confession to him “I don’t want to ruin that for them.” 

“So what are you planning to do?” He tilts his head looking at me in sympathy “ Because you seem to have wilted these past few months. 

“I have a few things I am thinking about doing. I want to seek out a few friends in Day first before committing to it.”

“Committing to what Sweetheart?” he gazes at me with concern 

“Breaking the bond.” And as those words leave my lips you can see the color drain from his face.

Tag list: @rachelnicolee @goldenmagnolias @jesssicapanigua @sweetorangeblossom @cat-or-kitten @alowint @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @coldpeachkitten @esposadomd @araneea92 @saltedcoffeescotch @persephonesalvatore

[mind-intheclouds342]

I found her first - Jimmys pov

This chapter contains mature and dark content.

This is the little bonus (from Do it for them) chapter about why Jimmy is so mad about the cute couple we love.

Jimmy: "Do I really have to use that crap?"

He complained while running his hand over his member to make it hard, so he could put on the condom.

"I already told you, sweetheart, no party without a hat~ don't feel left out, I do this with everyone who comes through here~"

The only thing separating them was that wall, and the only thing connecting them was that hole through which the man slid his member, immediately letting out a moan upon feeling lips on it.

That was one of his favorite places, his favorite mouth, he spent his money there every time those lovely lips were on the other side.

He immersed himself in the pleasure and compliments he could hear from the other side, he adored every second of it.

"Oh~! Did you finish, darling? You've lasted longer than last time~ what a good boy!"

Jimmy: "Shut up... get ready for your payment"

He heard the giggle from the other side and slid the bill through the slot, seeing the edge of a bra and placing it right there.

Jimmy: "You say that you charge others first before providing your service... Why do you let me do it later?"

"Because you are my favorite customer~ and I trust you!"

Those words melted him, he always asked the same thing, to receive the same answer, it made his ego grow bigger.

He already noticed that her favorite mouth was in different places, not just doing these jobs.

When he knew he could find her in the alleys looking for something good to smoke and to forget about the world, he knew how to find her.

"20 dollars? Let's go... That's excessive for this amount..."

She complained but was desperate to get the only thing that relaxed her.

Jimmy: "Can you do something for me to get it for just 10?"

That's how he managed to see her face and her lips back on his member, but there he didn't receive any kind of praise, just a quick suck, but it was worth it to see her face, how her eyes rolled back when he pushed her head, making her choke on him, he loved being able to do that.

But it drove him crazy that she wouldn't even look at him, always avoiding any kind of eye contact.

To then end up smoking together by the shores of the lake at that place.

Jimmy: "You could get it for free if you would just let me..."

"No"

She said curtly, looking at the lake and scratching his leg repeatedly, which she couldn't stop moving.

Jimmy: "I'm just saying... I could give you a place to sleep, you know."

"Go to hell"

Jimmy: "You too"

He loved her company.

It was still very much present the day he had been cornered by a group of teenagers who tried to steal the merchandise he had to sell in that area.

They were armed with sticks and a knife, being five against just one, the man was at a disadvantage.

Until she arrived, without any remorse, she hit one on the head with a glass bottle, breaking it.

She grabbed him by the neck and pointed the broken bottle at his face.

"Leave him alone, or I'll kill your friend right here."

No matter how bad they wanted to appear, they couldn't leave their friend behind, so they dropped their weapons and left.

"That should at least give me a week of something good without any payment, right?"

She commented, taking her hand to help her up.

Jimmy: "Bitch, you only helped me for that"

"Of course, you bastard, do you think I care about you?"

But the smile with which she said it, said the exact opposite for him.

For him, she was his companion, a woman he could turn to at any moment, as long as he gave her something in return.

That's why when he saw her by his side... Immediately, his whole world crumbled.

Curly: "Jimmy! Let me introduce you to (Y/n)"

It was the first time he heard her name.

He watched her as she hid behind her friend, avoiding his gaze, fully aware of the things she had done with him, as if she wanted to pretend they had never happened.

Why are you with him?

Why do you hold onto him like that?

Are you really going to leave me?

They were questions that always crossed his mind, furious at having to witness how something that was his, something he had achieved on his own, was snatched away by someone else.

From that moment on, he never stopped insulting her, only saying unpleasant things about her to his friend, hoping that one day he would leave her and she would be his again.

But that never happened.

Jimmy: "Goddammit Curly, why don't you answer?"

He complained by leaving messages for his friend, with whom he was supposed to meet that day. He was going to his house and knocked on the door loudly to get his attention.

After several minutes, the man opened the door, embarrassed, wearing only his pants.

Curly: "Jimmy! We were supposed to meet today, weren't we? I'm sorry, I fell asleep! I'll get ready right away and let's go!"

He immediately knew it was a lie when he saw her hiding behind a wall, spying, with a blanket covering her body.

I also want to see it.

I also want to have it.

Why did you give it to him when I've kindly asked you so many times?

Jimmy: "Get ready quickly! You're wasting my time..."

His friend laughed and nodded, apologizing again for the problem.

Even their hopes of reclaiming what was theirs did not fade.

Even after they have gotten married.

He was going to get what he wanted, even if he had to snatch it from his friend's hands.

After all, he found her first.

[canonicallyobserving911]

Buddie: Two hopes for episode 8x6

I've waited for more than 24 hours to post this because I'm still in utter disbelief after Tuesday night. Yesterday, I hoped I'd wake up from the nightmare and realize it was all a dream but it wasn't and it will continue for who knows how long. I'm trying to find silver linings in the one TV show I consistently watch, therefore I'm finally ready to share the only two hopes I have for 9-1-1's season 8 episode 6.

I won't watch live and the truth is I haven't this season because if it's full of more retcons and other nonsensical BS, I need to be able to fast forward through the scenes I don't want to see. Furthermore, my expectations for 8x6 are below the ground and honestly, after Tuesday's election here in the U.S., I have no idea how TM (showrunner) and the network will react or if they'll even try to course correct.

IYKYK there will be challenges ahead for network TV and it's the MAIN reason why Buddie should have gone CANON last season. Also, I've posted before that hiatues don't do them any favors (seasons 6 and 7 are perfect examples of this and that's why they both ended ridiculously), therefore, I'm only hoping for two things.

Buck needs to end whatever the f~ck he's doing with Tonsillitis because 8x5 clearly showed they aren't compatible. There's no need to drag it out any longer and I for one do NOT want to sit through a déjà vu moment that's reminiscent of BT 1.0 only for this BS to last until 8x18. It was exhausting in season 5 and if TM does it, then it'll be history repeating itself. We're literally 5 episodes in and I'm already tired of this season because of the lack of movement with Eddie’s storyline and all this focus on BT instead of it being focused on Buck and his individual journey. It's not ok and it's really pissing me off. Buck needs to stand up for himself and stop clinging to relationships that aren't working. He already wasn't allowed to breakup with T.K. 1.0 because he wasn’t happy, so can he please finally get off the damn hamster wheel? OS deserves better than this and TM (showrunner) should be ashamed at how poorly he's handled Buck’s arc.

Eddie hasn't had a GOOD episode that's been solely about him in YEARS! And I'm disappointed in the fact that 8x6 was supposed to be his time to shine but once again it appears his scene(s) will be relegated to the last 5 minutes of the episode the same way his PTSD arc was handled in 5x13. Therefore, I hope whatever is going to happen with him shaving his mustache will be emotional and meaningful instead of it being handled in a way that's comical like the show spent the majority of the preseason promoting it. TM already spilled the beans about it which minimized the anticipation of it when he told everyone during an interview that it was going to happen only to not speak of it again for the last few weeks. Furthermore, whatever Eddie has to say about his failed marriage to Shannon, it needs to be the last time so it can be wrapped up tonight because there are only so many times she should be mentioned because she's been dead for 6 years and it's time for her to R.I.P. Now, he SHOULD talk about her when he's ready to have an open and honest conversation with Chris like he should have been allowed to do in 7x1. Also, a mention of how Eddie’s going to fix things with Chris needs to be included too because Eddie’s a great dad and I'm sick and tired of them not letting their father and son relationship move forward. Chris has been in El Paso long enough, therefore Eddie needs to travel there to see him and so that he can read his mother the riot act. RG is a fabulous actor and he deserves better. He already had to put up with that raggedy ass "Vertigo" and doppelgänger storyline BS, so can the audience please see some progress in 8x6? The show needs to turn the page on Eddie’s failed marriage once and for all.

Here's the thing, with the Madney storyline, three emergency calls, Buck's conversations with Maddie and Josh and possibly Bobby, all the BT foolishness, Eddie shaving his mustache and Eddie’s conversation(s) with the priest, it’s unlikely there will be enough time for everything and I'd rather see the stuff that matters and that will move both Buddie's and Madney's arcs forward.

Time is of the essence and there are only two weeks left before the show goes on hiatus for who knows how long. Therefore, waiting to make Buddie CANON could backfire and it’s possible they won't get the chance if they wait until 8B.

Just saying.

I'M TIRED AND I WON'T DEAL WITH ANYONE'S BS COMMENTS ABOUT BT BREAKING UP SO, DON'T REBLOG THIS WITH AN OPPOSING OPINION. IF ANYONE DISAGREES THAT’S FINE BUT THEY SHOULDN'T ATTACH IT TO MY POST. THEY SHOULD DO IT ON THEIR OWN BLOG OR GET BLOCKED LIKE EVERY BT STAN. I'M A PROACTIVE BLOCKER AND I DO IT BASED ON FILTERED TAGS! I'VE ALREADY BLOCKED THE VAST MAJORITY OF THEM BUT EVERY NOW AND THEN ONE WILL FOLLOW ME AND I IMMEDIATELY BLOCK THEM TOO.

[midnight-shadow-cafe]

Lost and Found

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x reader

Warning: slight angst (usual mentions of walking dead stuff), mostly fluff

Authors Note: i hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 1k

Masterlist

MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

The forest stretched endlessly before you, thick with shadows and silence, the scent of damp earth clinging to the air. You’d been on your own for weeks now—an endless game of survival, marked by close encounters with walkers, near-missed skirmishes, and restless, sleepless nights. Each step was a struggle, and every day felt like another small battle, a choice to keep going when everything felt like it was falling apart.

Then you heard it—a faint rustle in the trees. The hairs on the back of your neck rose, and instinct took over as you spun around, knife at the ready. Your heart pounded, the world narrowing down to your breath and that creeping, distant sound. But what you saw wasn’t a walker.

A man stood a few feet away, crossbow aimed at you with steady hands. His expression was hidden behind messy strands of hair and narrowed eyes, but the light of the setting sun caught a flash of blue in his gaze. He looked just as tired, just as wary, but there was a stillness to him that told you he was calculating every move.

“Easy now,” he murmured, the rough edge of a Southern drawl in his voice.

You didn’t lower your weapon. “I could say the same to you.”

He kept his aim for a moment longer, his eyes scanning you, trying to decide if you were a threat. Slowly, he lowered the crossbow, but the suspicion didn’t leave his face. “Ain't seen many folks out here alone.”

“Not by choice,” you replied, keeping your tone even. This man was dangerous, you could tell that much—but something in his presence felt more solid, more grounded than anything you’d encountered in weeks.

He gave a small nod, as if acknowledging the unspoken history of survival in your tone. “Daryl Dixon,” he said simply, voice as gruff as the forest surrounding him. “You got somewhere to go, or you just driftin’?”

The question hit harder than it should have. You’d been aimless for so long, with no real destination, no goal other than staying alive. You hesitated, feeling an ache in your chest that you hadn’t let yourself acknowledge until now. “I don’t know,” you said quietly. “Guess I’m just looking for a reason to keep moving.”

Daryl nodded, his gaze softening just a fraction. “Ain’t a lotta good reasons out here,” he said, almost like he was speaking to himself. After a beat, he shifted, jerking his head in the direction he’d come from. “I know a place. Ain't much, but it’s safe.”

His offer stunned you. You’d learned not to trust easily, not to follow anyone, but something about his quiet, unspoken sincerity made you want to believe him. Without a word, you nodded, falling in step beside him as he led the way.

The settlement was smaller than you’d imagined, a handful of tents, makeshift shelters, and a few scattered supplies marking what could hardly be called a camp. But there were people here—a rare sight in a world filled with walkers and betrayal. And even more surprising, you felt a strange sense of comfort as you entered the space.

Daryl showed you around in his gruff, no-nonsense way, his words clipped and direct. “Water’s over there, fresh hunt gets cleaned ‘round here. Don’t go too far off unless you’re prepared to fight.” He nodded toward the far side of the camp, where a few others sat around a small fire. “We don’t get many strangers, but… s’long as you pull your weight, you’re welcome to stay.”

The days passed slowly, each one a test of patience and resilience. Daryl was around often, though you noticed he wasn’t much for conversation. He taught you small things—a shortcut through the woods, the best way to set a trap, how to tell when a walker was near even if you couldn’t see it. You worked in silence most of the time, an unspoken understanding building between you. You began to feel a warmth you hadn’t felt in a long time—a sense of belonging, maybe even a sense of safety.

One night, after a particularly successful hunt, you and Daryl sat by the campfire, sharing the rare luxury of a full meal. The stars hung above you, and for a moment, it felt like the world was still. You glanced over at him, catching the way the firelight danced in his eyes.

“Why’d you come with me that day?” he asked suddenly, voice low and almost hesitant.

You shrugged, feeling your heart beat a little faster under his gaze. “I think… I just wanted someone to remind me there was still something worth fighting for.”

Daryl’s gaze lingered on you, a faint vulnerability surfacing in his eyes before he looked away. “There ain't much good left out here,” he muttered, as if wrestling with something he didn’t want to admit.

You leaned closer, the warmth of the fire tracing lines of shadow across his face. “Maybe not. But it doesn’t mean we have to forget what good is.”

He looked up at you, his blue eyes piercing in the dim light. “Been alone a long time,” he said, his voice rough and edged with something raw. “Most folks don’t last out here. They don’t understand.”

You nodded, understanding all too well. “But you’re still here.”

For a long, quiet moment, Daryl just looked at you, his expression guarded but softened by something you couldn’t quite name. Then, almost as if he hadn’t decided to, he reached out, his hand finding yours. His touch was hesitant, rough and calloused, but gentle in a way that made your heart ache. You held onto it, feeling an unspoken promise between you—something steady in the chaos, something you hadn’t realized you needed.

“You ever think about leavin’?” he asked softly, his voice barely a whisper.

You shook your head, squeezing his hand lightly. “Not anymore.”

And in that quiet, shared moment, you both knew that this fragile, fleeting thing—whatever it was — was worth holding onto.

Hope you enjoyed! Please consider liking and reposting! -Midnight💜

[youknowwho-mustnotbenamed]

November 01 - Great Hall | word count: 787 | @wolfstarmicrofic

Today, is a great day.

It is such a good day; Sirius is certain he is still dreaming. But he never dreams good things, things that make him feel like he is floating, things that make him want to stay in the haze of sleep, things that are entirely welcome. And yet, some part of that is true, because for once, he did get his dreams. His life is no longer a blur of pain and self-resentment, but rather illuminated by a golden ray of autumn sunshine. Because Remus is finally his. Well, no, he is still his own person, but Sirius can hold his hand, and kiss him, and snuggle close in his arms and… well, he can wake up next to him in the morning, content and not afraid of the nightmares.

It's been a month now since they’ve officially gotten together, but the novelty hasn’t worn off, and he isn’t entirely convinced it ever will. After years of pining, then months spent driven apart by his deceitful mind and a stupid decision, then another handful of weeks spent vying from across the room, they are finally here, and Sirius isn’t going anywhere.

He blames this unburdened feeling on the unnecessary risks he’s taking today. Sitting glued to Remus’ side during breakfast, tangling their legs together under the table. The not-so-subtle glances he keeps casting to his right even as he tries to keep them to a minimum. He tries reminding himself that Remus wanted to keep this as a private matter, but how can he look away? How can his eyes find any more topic more interesting than his boyfriend. His boyfriend! Just the word makes him a bit giddy inside, trembling a bit.

So, what he does next shouldn’t surprise him as much as it does. He rises from his seat with the promise to meet the others in Transfiguration after his quick trip to the owlery. But before he leaves, he betrays Remus’ trust once again. He leans down and kisses him, lingering for a moment before pressing another to his cheek. It’s only as he is standing back up, that he realizes what he’s done. That’s when the dread sinks in, an icy cold drip into the pit of his stomach, stopping his heart and squeezing.

He tries apologizing, but all that comes out is a choked sound.

So, he does what he does best when he ruins things, he flees. He spins and swiftly makes his way out of the Great Hall, doing his best to ignore all the burning hot gazes searing into him. He should have known better than to think he could have something as wonderful as Remus in his life. He should have known better, and he should have pulled away before the crash and burn. He should have known better, and now he will be cast out by his friends, and the entire school will think he is a freak. He should have known better. He should have—

“Sirius?”

“You don’t have to say it, Remus. I already know we’re done. I don’t… I don’t think I can bear hearing you say it.”

“Wha—no. Wha are you going on about?”

“You asked me not to… you wanted to keep this private, and I… I mucked it all up. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. Now everybody is going to hate you even more, and that’s my fault. I’m sorry, I’ll make this right, I promise.”

“Sirius,” He says, gently cupping his face. Sirus’ mind screams at him to pull away, but his body leans into the touch. “You didn’t mess anything up.”

“Of course I did.”

“No, you didn’t. I promise. I thought you would want to keep things quiet for now, because of… well, this is new to you. I’ve dated boys in the past, and frankly, I don’t care what people think about me. I wanted to protect you; I didn’t want you to panic and spiral and pull away again. But I promise, you did nothing wrong, okay? If you want to kiss me in the Great Hall, hold my hand in the corridors, go ahead.”

“I… really?”

“Sirius, you have to know I’m properly gone for you, right?”

“I—oh I’m so lucky I got to you first.”

“Little do you know that I was waiting for you.”

All Sirius can do in response to that, is kiss him. To pull him in closer, and kiss him. Other students are leaving the Great Hall now, but Sirius isn't going anywhere. Because Remus is precious, and Remus is his, and Remus doesn’t care of other people know. It doesn’t matter if they know, because he is Remus’, and together they will face anybody who dares think otherwise.

Yes, today is a great day.

[whumpyourdamnpears]

Fruit of the Wicked: Chapter Ten

Content Warning: lady whump, male whumper/female whumpee, POC whump (whumpee is a Black woman), age gap whump (whumper is an older man), religious whump (Christianity), captivity whump, non-con drugging, brief suicidal ideation

Thank you to Marz for beta reading this chapter

Word Count: 1833 Previous Next

“I come bearing gifts,” the man said the next time he entered the room. Dani watched, bleary-eyed, as the man approached her, holding a single plastic water bottle, its contents sloshing as he moved.

“I thought you said gifts,” she mumbled as he crouched down in front of her, stretching out her arm to take the bottle from him.

“Be grateful you get even this much.” He reminded her, passing the bottle off to her. Dani took the bottle, moving it from side to side the second it entered her hand. The way the water moved about the bottle quickly enraptured her rapidly drying out brain.

“You gonna drink it or what?” The man asked.

Dani didn’t hesitate before unscrewing the top of the water bottle and pouring its contents down her throat. She left a little bit of it to swish around in her dry mouth, begging for it to sink into her gums and tongue for some much-needed moisture.

The man chuckled and nodded as Dani downed nearly the entire bottle. “I’d apologize for not getting you water sooner, but we both know water opens up the flood gates for further needs, and besides, watching you when you finally get it is a whole lot more fun this way.”

“Oh, I bet,” Dani snapped, rolling her eyes.

“I have to say, though, the crankiness is not my favorite.” He told her in a warning tone of voice. Dani decided not to press, instead looking down at the bottle in her hand.

The man looked at her, expecting. “Don’t you have anything else to say to me?”

Motherfuck— “Thank you.” Dani muttered, refusing to make eye contact.

The man smiled, his lips curling in on themselves. “You’re most certainly welcome, darlin’.”

She hated him. Hated him.

“Did you know it’s been almost a week since you’ve been here?” The man asked her. Dani shook her head. Admittedly, she’d lost count of the days when the hunger began to hit. “Today’s your seventh day.”

Seven days. How had it only been seven days?

Seven days without food, or consistent access to water. Seven days of being forced to interact with this fucking freak. Dani couldn’t help the way her eyes bugged when she inhaled. Seven days into however much longer there was of this. Should she start counting down the days until he eventually got sick of her and ended things? Was he beginning to get sick of her already? He had given her water this time, unprompted. That was a good sign, wasn’t it?

Did she even want it to last much longer than this?

The man began pacing around the room, inspecting the books and knick knacks that rested on the higher shelves. Dani watched him, confused. “What are you doing?” She asked as she watched him lift up a paperweight from one of the shelves above her.

“Just waiting,” he hummed. “I need to take care of a few more things before we leave, but have to wait to get some of them done.”

Dani perked up, nearly hitting her head on the shelf above her. “Leaving? We’re leaving? Leaving for where?”

“No, my daughter and I are leaving.” The man said. “You, darlin’, are staying here. I can’t trust you not to make a mess of things while we’re out and about yet.”

Dani deflated. “Oh.”

The man laughed. “Did you seriously think I’d bring you anywhere in this state? With your behavior? Come on, now. You should know better than that.”

Dani squirmed in her seat. “Where are you going?” She asked.

“That,” the man fiddled with the cuffs of his flannel. “Is for me to know.” He glanced down at her, smirking. “You’ll get to know soon enough.”

Huffing, Dani began to crinkle the water bottle in her hand, eliciting a pained look from her captor. “I’d argue I’ve been very well-behaved.”

“Oh, would you? I think the bruise on my shin would beg to differ.”

Dani smiled to herself. “It bruised?”

The man narrowed his eyes. “Don’t be too proud of yourself. May I remind you of what that little choice got you?” He gestured over to the unused bedpan.

For a moment, the world began to blur. Dani quickly blinked the blurriness away. An unwanted side effect of the hunger she experienced, no doubt. Groaning, Dani rubbed her head. “And how long are you guys going to be gone for?” She asked.

“Until later tonight. I don’t trust you to be by yourself for that long.”

“Wow, thanks for that show of confidence.” Dani remarked sarcastically. Her head felt weird, fuzzy, even. Despite the length of time without food, she hadn’t felt anything like this since…

“Did you give me something?”

The man stopped, turning to finally face her. “Give you what?”

Dani didn’t respond, instead choosing to give him a knowing look.

The man crouched down and held out his hand. “If you don’t want the water, I can just take it back.”

Dani sheltered the bottle with her body. Despite its near emptiness, she did not want to part with it. It was, after all, her only source of water. “Never mind,” Dani mumbled, curled around the bottle.

The man hummed, nodding his head and standing up from his crouch. “Then don’t complain. What you get is what you get.”

And you don’t get upset. Suddenly, memories of her mother saying exactly that flooded to the forefront of Dani’s mind. It almost made Dani teary-eyed to think of her, of what she must be doing now that her daughter was gone, in some reclusive older man’s remote cabin in the woods.

Almost.

So, they continued on, the man with his pacing, Dani with nursing the water bottle and her headache, which was slowly worsening. Eventually, it got to the point where Dani started to find it hard to stay sitting up, so she pushed herself up against the bookshelf to keep herself upright.

The man watched as she did so. “How are you feeling?” The man asked, scrutinizing her.

“Fine,” Dani began to slur. Definitely not normal. She glared at the man as the world began to get blurry again.

He gave her a little smirk in response. “Did you really think I’d just leave you to your own devices while we were gone? You could get into some serious trouble with us not here to stop you.”

Dani could distantly feel her body begin to slide off the bookshelf as he went on, slinking down towards the floor.

“It’ll only last for a few hours. We should be home by the time it wears off. For now, though,” the man bent over and pet Dani’s head as she finally slid all the way down onto the floor. “You’ll just have to take a nice little nap until we return.”

“Fuck you,” Dani slurred as she fought to keep her eyelids from sinking shut.

“Goodnight,” the man drawled as he walked away from her and approached the doors to the study. When the door opened and the man slipped out was when Dani finally allowed her eyes to close.

———

The room is dark when Dani awakens. She stares at the ceiling as the room begins to come back into focus. Rolling onto her side slowly, Dani looked to the doors. The lights were off on the other side, too, and there was no movement. Groaning, Dani rubbed her head as she came to.

She was alone. Really, truly alone, for the first time in days. Sitting up, her head spun, but she stayed up, and that’s what matters. Looking around, Dani verified she was alone before turning to the bookcase behind her. He deserves this, Dani thought to herself as she stretched to pull a book off of the shelf. She turned to a random page before gripping the edge of said page and tearing. The page ripped from the spine, fluttering down from the book to the floor. It felt good. Dani ripped another one out. And another. She kept ripping until a small, folded piece of paper fluttered to the floor.

Dani stared at the folded up piece of paper, perplexed. Her mind was still muddy from whatever was in her water, but she still knew that the folded piece of paper tucked into the book was not part of the book’s binding itself. It could be nothing, Dani thought to herself. It could just be annotations, or an old flyer used as a bookmark. It could be nothing. Still, her hand reached out for the paper, anyways, and reverently unfolded it to find a few nicely written words written out in pencil on the page.

Dear Whoever Comes Next, the paper read. I’m sorry.

I’m sorry?

The writing continued. That’s all I really have to say to you. I’m sorry he took you. I’m sorry he made you his. And I’m sorry I couldn’t do anything to stop it.

The letter went unsigned. Dani stared down at the paper, the words staring right back up at her. Before she could even think about what she had just read, a rumbling sounded from outside the cabin, getting louder and louder before stopping abruptly, headlights shining through the windows and the glass study doors. They were home, and there Dani sat with evidence of snooping around in her lap. She quickly scrambled to grab all of the ripped up pages and shove them back into the book, letter included, and then slammed the book shut, shoving the book back onto the bookshelf before the front door to the cabin swung open. Dani laid back down before the two of her captors could see she was awake, turning her back to the doors so they couldn’t see her face.

They came in quietly, shutting the door behind them. One set of footsteps walked right past the study, followed by a small thud that Dani had come to know as the ladder to the daughter’s room coming down from the ceiling and hitting the floor. The other set of footsteps instead walked right to the study doors, opening them and walking inside.

Dani slammed her eyes shut, hoping that pretending to be asleep would save her the grief of having to talk to the man about his night. The footsteps approached, stopping right behind her. She unintentionally tensed, and hoped that the man wouldn’t be able to tell. Dani could feel as the man moved closer to her, crouching down beside her to inspect her face. She stayed as still as a statue for all of it. All of it, except for when the man moved a strand of hair hanging in Dani’s face to behind her ear. Her face scrunched as she resisted the urge to bite the man’s hand.

“Goodnight, darlin’,” The man said quietly. “See you in the morning.”

As soon as it was safe to, once the man was long out of the room, Dani finally allowed herself to shudder.

Taglist: @flowersarefreetherapy, @generic-whumperz, @deluxewhump, @another-whump-sideblog, @pigeonwhumps, @lektricwhump, @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees, @sowhumpshaped, @dietofwormsofficial, @starsick1979

[b5withextrachicken]

FALLING IN LOVE? - JAMAL MUSIALA

pairings: jamal musiala x fem!reader

summary: they were seen kissing at a party but she can't quite remember. now she wants to find out if does.

(i hate this and also english isn't my first language.)

(pictures are not mine)

______________________________________________________

Perfection. Pure perfection. That was probably the only word that could describe his performance today.

My eyes were practically glued to the pitch as my gaze followed his every move. He was at his best today, making his way through the defenders, dribbling out every single one of them. That man was sickeningly good on the field, I had to admit as I watched from the stands. The atmosphere was loud, cheering and addicting. Not where I usually spent a friday night but I could get used to it. Especially when the view was this good.

At a party several weeks ago I had befriended another peer group of athletes, temporarly increasing my number of close friends from 2 to 7. Normal, right? Well, no, because when I woke up with a headache the next morning and checked my way-too-bright phone on the nightstand, it was blown up with messages. Whatsapp, Insta, TikTok... even Facebook. Photos, low-quality videos, theories. There were strangers on the internet speculating about me and a boy. That boy. The boy i later found out was Jamal Musiala. The pictures clearly showed me and him. Way too close. But the worst thing was: I couldn't remember what happened that night.

And that's what brought me here today, to the front row of the Allianz Arena. Because since that night, I couldn't help but wonder if he remembered me or anything that happened. I needed to see him.

The game was heated, the tension could've been cut by a knife. A winner wasn't yet clear when the ball made its way to Jamals feet again. Even from across the pitch I could see his expression fall into concentration as he skillfully turned and sprinted through the opposition towards their goal. It was like the whole stadium went quiet as the fans and rivals realised his chance. He moved to a perfect position to aim. Shot. Scored.

The south curve went wild. Fans spilled their beer. Plastic cups flew. Bayern took the lead in the 87th minute, now so close to a home win. The scorer wearing the number 42 on his back ran over to them to celebrate his goal. He was ecstatic, smiling as he got closer to the barricade.

That's when his gaze met mine.

It was sudden. Fast. But for that minuscule second I could see his eyes light up. A telling spark. Was it recognition? Our momentary connection was severed when his team mates finally caught up to him, engulfing him in a wild hug almost sending the young man to the floor. I smiled, deciding to push the heavy thoughts to the back of my mind for now and embrace the warm atmosphere.

..........

The game was over, proudly ending in a 2:1 for Bayern Munich. The masses hurried to the exits, hoping to avoid the cramped traffic after the win. I lingered around, taking my time to collect my things and also to circumvent the crowded halls of the stadium for a little longer. My mind was racing as the stands cleared out, only leaving trash and spilled beer behind. I was about to sip up my jacket when-

"Y/N?"

I practically whirled around at the sudden voice and my gaze (once again) was met by those chocolate brown eyes that belonged to no other than Jamal. He took a small step back startled by my movement and send me an apologetic look for the scare. Now there was a litte more than an arms-length between us.

"Uh-hey!" I answered nervously, a shaky smile painting my lips. This wasn't at all how I imagined our encounter. My eyes scanned his appearance, he wore a baggy tracksuit jacket over his kit, the grass residues on his shorts still evident from the many fouls he had to endure. He hadn't even made it to the locker room. My gaze lingered on his lips before locking with his eyes again.

His mouth stretched into a sweet smile "Hey..."

Awkward silence. A few beats passed. I looked around nervously, my eyes now darting to anywhere but him. What was I supposed to talk about now? The weather?

Jamal also shuffled around nervously, looking down at his cleats. It was clear we both beat around the bush. He looked back up at me, his gaze resembling that of a deer. "So...Why-I mean, what brought you here, I didn't think I'd see you again..." he asked carefully. A blush tainted my cheeks "Uhm, I just... wanted to see you." I started, embarassed "You know, after the party." pausing for a moment, I thought back to the pictures of us kissing, contemplating if I should ask the question and just get it of my chest. Yeah. Best option.

"Do you remember anything about that night? Like what happened exactly? Did we... do something?"

It tumbled out of my mouth, one ask fused to another. I watched as his posture shifted, his eyes slightly widening. "What? No,no,no." he shook his head. A small wave of relief washed over me but it couldn't tame the burning lack of knowledge about that night. "Then what happened, the only thing I know is that I woke up with a headache.". He took a step back, processing my words before answering. "We had a good night you know, dancing, drinking...kissing. It went well until some drunk incel pushed you and you hit your head on a door frame..." the man paused, anger flashing in his eyes for a second. "He knocked you out. I drove you to the hospital. Your friends picked you up."

My mouth opened to reply, but quickly closed when no good answer formed on my tongue. It wasn't what I expected, but I still didn't know what to think about it.

"You waited at the hospital?" I asked, now completely catching up to what he said.

"Yeah." Jamal looked down to the floor again, hiding the faint red that now tinted his cheeks. "I wanted to ask for your number but... after everything happened I didn't think it was appropriate..." He trailed off.

"Oh-OH..well..." I was taken aback. Caught off-guard. Then I suddenly felt confidence seep through my body.

"You could ask me now."

He looked at me, a beat passed, then his face lit up. He took his phone out of his pocket and handed it to me, ready to enter the digits. As I was about to give him the phone back, he cleared his throat.

"Are you free next friday? It's my free day and maybe we could meet up at a café?" He asked, also growing more confident now. I blushed, and nodded, still a little overwhelmed by what just happened. "Yes, yes I'd love to. 5pm? Hopefully this time I'll remember..." I chuckled and Jamal quickly joined in. The situation now blurred into a sweet moment as we stood in the stadium that was completely empty. I smiled as I looked up at him. His eyes drifted to my lips before they met mine again.

"You better stay away from the door frames."

________________________________________________________

my first piece on here, yayyy ig

[sweetbillwriting]

The Blackened Branches

Description: Hayden and Eric have a long history together but also secrets, hidden under blackened branches.

Characters: AU Eric from The Crow played by Bill Skarsgård. The story is completely its own thing.

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, heavy themes.

Notes: A new Eric story! I missed him at once. 🖤 Once again, thank you @b-afterhours!

We had a big oak next to our house when I was little. It stood alone on a field by our street before the forest spread out behind it. When I was really young, it had been healthy, big, and green, but through the years, it had dried up and stood like a skeleton left behind. There was an oak I had collected acorns by, and given to my mother, but when it died, so did my childlike interests for the tree, until I met Eric.

I was eleven when we met; he was thirteen, but he had a way about him that made him seem younger. I was on my way from school when I saw a boy sitting on a branch at the top of the dead oak. He wore just shorts and a big shirt, and his feet were bare. It was way too cold at the end of October to be dressed like that, so I stared at him a bit too long. When he looked at me, I lowered my eyes and took longer strides to my house. I could feel his eyes on me, but more than that didn't happen. I worried he would say something right then and there, but later, while sitting by the TV with my parents and older brother, I felt disappointed. Nothing exciting ever happened to me, and seeing a weird boy barefoot in a dead tree was the most exciting thing that had happened to me. I wish he had said something, just something that I could have answered cool and relaxed on, but something like that didn't happen to me; I just continued life like someone had perfected it to a predictable psalm.

“Did you see that boy running through the neighborhood today?” asked my mom to my dad which made him tear away his eyes from the TV. My brother, Illowa, and I did the same, but he was annoyed that they spoke over the TV, while I wanted to hear if it was the same boy I've seen.

“Yeah, I tried to catch up with him with the car to see if everything was alright, but he was too fast! Just ran through The Gray’s yard!”

My mom nodded with big eyes.

“Ida thinks he's a burglar. They just get younger and younger, you know.” My mom looked worried for our sake, but my dad had another sort of worried expression.

“Poor kid. The next time we see him, we should see if he's hungry or something. He ran out in his underwear in this weather!”

I looked out through the window; the sky cried big tears, but slowly, like it was sorrowing something in silence.

My mom looked unsure but then sighed. They had a silent agreement they would be good to people and teach us kids to treat people in need with respect.

“You're right. We should.”

I sat confused because I didn't really understand why Ida believed a small boy was a thief, and I couldn't understand why a kid would be running outside in his underwear. I was too privileged and too ignorant to have learned that.

“Hayden, have you seen the boy? He seems to be your age?” asked my dad.

I didn't know why, but I shook my head and looked towards the TV. It wasn't anything private, and what I've seen wasn't worth much; still, something stopped me from talking about him.

×××

For a couple weeks I thought about the boy, looking for him without results. My dad had seen him one more time, dressed in a similar way. He had run away from him again much to my dad’s frustration. He said he wanted to help the boy, but I think he was also just as curious about his story as I was.

“Have you heard anything about a homeless boy at school? Maybe overheard some teachers talking?" Asked our dad, me, and my brother again when we sat together to eat dinner on a Friday night. I shook my head because I hadn't, but Illowa played with two pieces of cucumber on his plate. My dad looked at him intensely, and after a while, Illowa gave in.

“These are not my words, but I heard Frankie's mom talking with another woman, and they said, 'A white trash family had parked their trailer in the woods'. It's not my words!”

My brother could say some bad things when he was with his friends, but he would never do it in front of our parents; he would be grounded, so it was obvious he told the truth. My parents looked at each other a bit uncomfortably, especially when I asked what “white trash” meant.

“It's a bad word; don't say that,” said my mom and stood up, starting to put away the dinner without asking us if we were done. My dad scratched his beard while looking out from the window.

“What people say about a family in need says more about them than the family... If you see that boy again, I want you to invite him to our home. He's a child; he should be taken care of by all grownups surrounding him.”

That was how Eric suddenly stood in our hallway. Illowa had seen him by the tree and invited him into our home, even if he thought the boy was just dirty and weirdly silent. He stood in just orange plaid boxers and a big gray t-shirt, his dark blonde hair messy, and he had dirt from his feet up to his knees. My dad looked at the poor boy with a genuine smile and scratched his beard. He, on the other hand, just gazed down at the ground. Illowa had taken some steps away from him, and his facial expression told me the boy probably smelled.

“What's your name?” My dad tried, but the boy still didn't even look at him. Instead, he looked towards the kitchen, maybe as a hint to why he was there. My dad tried again to ask for his name, but it made him just back away towards the door. I could see in my dad's face that he felt panic, and instead of pressuring for a name, he made a nod towards the kitchen.

“Are you hungry?”

The boy looked at him with big eyes. I think we all inhaled deeply in that moment. His eyes were big like a doll’s and his lips were full like a cherub's. He was beautiful and it made his ragged clothes and smell even more like a punch in the face. The contrast was too big. When I took a deep breath I could smell the sour odor from him. He smelled like old trash but also cheap tobacco smoke that had stuck on his skin and been there for ages.

“Are you hungry?” Asked my dad again and moved to the kitchen doorway. Finally, the boy nodded and slowly approached my dad, like a frightened animal. Both me and Illowa swallowed hard. He might be much smaller than our father, but we didn't know what he could do.

Our kitchen must have made him nervous because he backed out when he met the bright white walls and the colorful art. My parents saw themselves as bohemians, but it was obvious they had a bit too much money to really be bohemians, and my mom seemed to have lost a bit of the interest with age. She wanted a secure life.

“Come in, it's okay,” said my dad to the boy, and carefully he walked in again while playing with his t-shirt. Dad opened the fridge and looked around.

“I can make you a sandwich? We have some left overs from the chicken yester-”

“Oh man..!” Scoffed, my brother disappointed. My dad shot him an angry look, and he quieted down, but I could see his disappointment in his face.

My dad coaxed the boy to one of our turquoise chairs and fixed him a meaty sandwich. All of us watched the boy eat, but he didn't seem to care; he took big chunks of the sandwich but chewed slowly and well. My dad sat down opposite of him by the table, but me and Illowa continued to look at him from afar.

“You live in the forest?” Asked my dad, gaining the boy's attention. The food in his stomach and the hospitality had probably made him trust us a bit more, and he nodded a bit.

“What's your name?”

The boy turned uncomfortably on the chair but then looked up at my dad's kind eyes.

“Eric.”

My dad smiled at him and then sat silent until the boy had finished his sandwich.

“Do you want to take a shower?”

Eric looked down at his dirty fingernails and then concealed them in his fists. He looked embarrassed. He gave Illowa a fast look. He had, like many other boys in their early teens, overstyled hair, a crystal earring, and a pricy hoodie. Eric stood up awkwardly.

“Thank you,” he said with a broken voice, in the same instance he ran towards the door. It was obvious he was afraid my dad would catch him, and he ran for his life. My dad looked really upset, and both me and Illowa looked at him worriedly. I knew Illowa wanted to comment on Eric's smell—that he just wore boxers or that he had legs like sticks—but my dad would have been angry then.

“I hope you see how privileged we are to live like this. There’s many children out there living like Eric.” My dad looked at us seriously, and for a moment I had guilt towards Eric. It was also then that I decided to do everything in my power to take care of him.

×××

The forest by our street was small and didn't stretch out more than a half mile to another street on the opposite side. It was a middle class area where the kids could play in the forest in safety, but it changed that day when two older teens had heard gunshots from the forest. What it was about was never solved, but from that day on, the forest became a place the parents of the neighborhood warned the kids about.

I was five when it happened, so my whole childhood I saw the forest as frightening. In my imagination, there were murderers and thieves living there, and the trees stood so close together it would feel like walls going by them.

I was in the forest with my dad a few times, but I pretended to be uninterested because, in reality, I felt anxious being in there. My father believed me and didn't try many more times to take me there after. The oak was enough for me. It felt like it was the entrance to the woods but was still standing on safe ground. There I could daydream about adventures in the woods without needing to visit it. When I was eleven, those childish thoughts started to die, but instead Eric came out from the woods, just as mysterious as my daydreams had been.

I had decided to find him again, this time without my intrusive dad or my judgmental brother. It felt like I could handle Eric better than they could, especially because we were probably the same age too. After a week with no luck in finding him, I started to think about actually visiting the forest. A Saturday morning, before my parents had gone up, I walked towards the tree. The crows lifted from the branches when I came close and made black silhouettes against the white sky. It looked dramatic and sad, and when I lowered my gaze, I could see Eric standing by the tree looking at the same image as me. He looked just as sad and pale as the sky did, and even if he wasn’t crying, I got the urge to comfort him.

“Hey,” I said carefully. I still was quite far from him, but it felt like he would run if I just walked up to him with determined steps. Eric looked at me, his green eyes standing out in the gray weather.

“Hey,” he said with an exhalation, like he had given up. Maybe he knew I had been looking for him. I looked at him up and down. His legs and left arm were badly bruised, and his knees had dirty, bloody wounds.

“Have you fallen?” I asked, gazing at his knees. Eric peered down at them too and nodded. He looked embarrassed, maybe because I was a girl.

“In the woods?”

Eric nodded again and leaned down, trying to wipe away some of the dirt, but it just smeared in the thick blood.

“I can help you clean it if you want to?”

He looked up at me but didn't say anything. I would probably need to be the one out of us to talk, but it didn't faze me; he was probably just shy.

“I can get some stuff? Like things I can clean the wounds with?” I pointed to my house, and Eric looked towards my house too but then lowered his eyes again. I stood a moment hesitating if I should go back or if I should stay but realized I wouldn't be able to stop him from running either way.

“I’ll get some stuff!” I said and started to run home, leaving him by the tree.

I ignored that it smelled like coffee in the house; I ignored that the morning news was on in the living room; I even ignored my dad when he called after me. I grabbed everything I could imagine you’d need to have to take care of his wounds from the bathroom, and I even filled up my water bottle from soccer practice with water, then I was out of the door. It took me maybe three minutes all of it, but still I expected Eric to have left, but he sat under the tree looking at his wounds like he just realized they were there. I sat down next to him even if I could smell smoke and dirt from his skin. I couldn't imagine what could make a person smell like that but did everything in my power to not react to it.

“Ehm… We must start with cleaning it with water first…” I said carefully. It was hard to find the words I wanted to say because Eric looked at me with such big puppy eyes I had to focus on not drowning in them.

“Okay,” he answered and stretched out his legs. I cleaned his wounds with water and then a wound cleanser. I prepared him for pain, but I didn't get a reaction; Eric just looked at the wounds with the same empty gaze. I looked at him with warm cheeks when he finally smiled a little. From the things I've carried, he pulled out two bandaids with My Little Pony. My cheeks that had been pink turned beef red when I saw what he held up. I had bought them because I thought they were cute but then never used them because it felt too childish.

“They're old. I would never use them now. I'm too old for that!” I tried to laugh even if I felt panic in my chest.

“I want them,” he said with a sweet little smile. For a second I thought he was messing with me, but when I met his kind eyes, I knew he was serious.

“Yeah okay…” I said with a giggle and helped him put them on along with two other bandaids. I looked at my creation with mixed feelings. It looked like I'd tried to fix a crystal vase with tape. It was obvious Eric still was broken. He was dirty, bruised, and probably had even bigger wounds on the inside of his chest. We sat in silence for a longer time than it felt like while I looked at his knees; they looked too big for his skinny legs and stood out weirdly on the sides.

“What's your name?” He timidly asked and cleared his throat like it was the longest sentence he had spoken for a while.

“Hayden,” I said with a giggle and looked up at him with innocent fascination.

“How old are you?” I continued, my curiosity taking over.

“Thirteen,” he said and looked down. He looked a bit ashamed, and maybe he knew he was older than me and that boys like Illowa would make fun of him spending time with a younger girl, but I didn't really know; something also told me he wasn't the type to care what others thought.

“I'm eleven. I'm twelve in March. So soon, twelve!” I said and tried to sound confident. Eric gave me a strange look but nodded a little.

“So like, I'm not that young!” I laughed uncertainly and shrugged my shoulders embarrassed. The more I looked at Eric, the more I felt my cheeks heat. He was painfully cute but also had a blank look that made it feel like everything I said was silly.

I took a deep breath and sat up a bit. I had forgotten about the smell from Eric's skin, but when he also fixed his position, I could sense the sour smell again.

“Do you live in the forest?” I asked after being reminded of the last time I had seen him. Eric waited to talk until he had found his words and licked his lips over and over.

“For now.”

“In a trailer?”

He nodded again and looked at the high trees stretching out opposite my street.

“For now,” he said again and nodded to himself.

“What school do you go to? Is it here close by? Maybe we-”

He interrupted me with a clearing of his throat.

“I work.”

I looked at him with furrowed brows in disbelief, and it must have made him upset in some way because he suddenly stood up on his gangly legs. I stood up too, mostly to be able to look at him. We were the same height even if he was two years older than me, the same age as Illowa.

“Thank you,” he said shortly and looked towards the forest. The fear of never seeing him again took over my body, and I stretched out my hand after his. He looked down at our hands with an unreadable expression but then up to my eyes with furrowed brows, like he didn't understand the act.

“Please don't leave. Ehm… My parents will go to work soon. Can't you come home with me? Please, I will not tell anyone. We can just hang out?”

“Hang out?” He asked, confused.

“Yeah. Maybe you're hungry?”

Eric looked down at his filthy feet. It was obvious it had affected him. He was hungry, and because of that, he had a hard time saying no. I knew that, and I used that to have him close.

×××

Illowa had taken the right as a teen and slept in that Saturday when my dad went to his job, a small music store in the city, and my mom as a healer, went to a bachelorette party. It was easy getting Eric into the house. I thought it would be a struggle to make him take a shower, but instead of me proposing it, he was the one to ask. I gave him a big white towel, steered him to my parents’ bathroom, and pointed out my dad's products so he didn't need to use my mom’s that smelled like lavender. I sat on my parents bed, watching cartoons and waiting for him. It was easier to let him shower there than in our family bathroom because that was just next to Illowa’s bedroom, and I didn't need the drama.

I thought about everything Eric had told me. He said he was working, but it didn't sound right that a thirteen-year-old worked, especially not looking like he did. What kind of work could he do dressed like that? I wondered if he had ever been to school. I had learned so much in school I wouldn't have known without it, and I felt a stomach ache when I thought about if he had learned those things. Did he know how to read? Could he do math? Did he know that earth spins around the sun?

I thought about what my dad had said—that me and Illowa were lucky for not having a life like Eric. He talked like he knew what kind of life Eric had, but I felt I knew nothing; I didn't understand a thing. Who even lived in a trailer?

While I sat in deep thoughts, Eric came out from the bathroom, dressed in my dad's big blue robe. It looked heavy on Eric's short, skinny frame, and he looked smaller when his wet hair hung around his face. I had given the robe to him to spare myself the awkwardness of seeing too much skin, but it was still an awkward moment, especially because I had recently started to see boys as interesting, especially in the ways they were different from me.

“You can stay here and watch TV while I fix some food? Then you don't need to meet Illowa. He can be a bit of a jerk.”

Eric nodded a little and sat down carefully, like he expected me to say no. He stretched out his skinny legs and gave me a small smile. It looked strained, like he wasn't used to moving those muscles, but I still smiled back and went to fix us some sandwiches and hot chocolate. I loved that hot chocolate could always make me feel better, so I hoped it would have the same effect on him.

I already felt I liked Eric, even if he had said so little. It was easy in that age for me to see people as friends, and he was now my friend without questions and friends you took care of. I would protect him now, even if I didn't know anything about him.

That's why the situation with my mom became so hard. I really thought I would be able to hide Eric, protect him from my nosy family, but I knew I had failed with that as soon as I heard my mom open the front door. I could hear in her movement that she was irritated; she stomped her feet, threw her bag to the side, while taking off her outerwear. I ran out to the hallway in panic and looked at her irritated face.

“They had given me the wrong day! I hope they don't do the same thing with the wedding to the priest! Christ!” She said, irritated, and pulled off her knitted cardigan. I looked towards the stairs, thinking of a way to make her move towards the living room instead of her bedroom, but I knew there wasn't a chance. She always walked to the bedroom to take off her jewelry—the first thing she did when she came home. With the years, her braided bracelets and crystals switched to diamonds and pearls, and because of that, they were also more important to take off in a secure place. 

“Are you okay, Hayden?” She asked and played a bit with my hair. I smiled and nodded even if it wasn't at all what I felt. I should have said something or done something, but I couldn't come up with anything other than pretending everything was fine. 

It felt like my mom walked in slow motion up the stairs, but after that everything went so fast. I followed her close behind, unable to stop what would happen, especially because I didn't know what could happen. She stopped in the doorway to the bedroom and didn't say anything; she just looked towards a point in the room. I sneaked up next to her, and even if I knew who I would see, I didn't know what I would see because there was Eric, back in his clothes, making a pocket of his shirt and stuffing it full of my mom's jewelry. Big green eyes looked at me in horror and shame.

××× 

Same green eyes looked at me, but without some of the boy's innocence. There was a darker color under them, small crow's feet in the corners, and a diamond tattoo under the left one. I could drown in those eyes forever. 

Eric laughed, and the crow's feet became deeper and his eyes closed. 

“Eriiic…!” I whined with a laugh. “I really thought you would win this!” 

He laid back against the white pillow, his long, tattooed body stretched out in the hotel bed with me half on top of him. 

“I'm serious, not angry! You're more angry than me!”

I looked at him with a smirk and shrugged my shoulders because it was true. Eric laughed again, then took a grip around my neck with one hand and pressed his lips against mine.

×

[lux-scriptum]

Using my journal isnt helping so tumblr as my journal it is

[swordmaid]

i am wide awake thinking about that post canon jb au again when I should be sleeping …!!! such is the nature of the jbrainrot…

[fuckyeah-bears]

i genuinely genuinely love when someone sends me an ask on bearotonin telling me about katmai fat bear week