#ill make more updates on it soon as the date approaches

[pmak2002]

Just Being Here is Enough.

A/N mentions of struggling with Mental Illness Anxiety and Depression/ being overwhelmed

You were worried as you entered your boyfriend’s apartment. He hadn’t been answering your text or calls since he had canceled date night the day before. He had said he hadn’t been feeling very well and needed to rest.

He had told you not to worry and that he would make it up to you as soon as possible despite his hefty filming schedule. But you worried anyway and now that he hadn’t given you any updates since last night you knew you had to check on him.

The first thing you noticed is the dirty dishes in the sink and dishwasher. As well as empty takeout containers all over the floor.

As a normally tidy person it worried you seeing such a mess. There was also snotty tissues scattered around. You noticed the gunk in the tissues was green instead of clear a sign of a sinus infection.

You noticed the couch had empty tissue boxes and water bottles on the table next to the couch as well as more pillows and blankets than usual.

You moved through the mess to Timothee’s room. He was clearly not well and you knew he wouldn’t be thrilled for you to see him in a bad state but you worried foo much to care.

You knocked on the bedroom door carefully incase he was asleep. You knew it probably wasn’t locked but you wanted to be sure.

You hear Timothee groan and then his voice.

“Who is it?” He called weakly his voice sounding raspy and weak.

“It’s me I wanted to see if you’re alright.” You call back.

“Enter.” He says sounding less than thrilled.

You enter the room to find him laying with his face in a pillow and his curls are tangled and unruly. Despite filming Marty supreme and needing haircuts it seems he had possibly missed an appointment with Jamie. Seeing how long his hair had grown since his last cut.

You carefully approach him and rub his back. He sighs and rolls over. There is dark circles under his eyes, he’s pale, flushed and his eyes are red as if he’s been crying. You take your thumb and wipe a stray tear.

“Oh mon ange.” You coo.

“I told you not to worry. You didn’t have to come.” He says. You take your hand and rub his check. He coughs harshly.

“I couldn’t help it I know you’ve been doing a lot and..”

This brings fresh tears to his eyes.

“Oh Timmy baby what happened?”

“I started feeling really sick the other day I thought I was just a cold but it kept getting worse and then I was constantly on the move and doing things. I can’t keep up and my brain was screaming and I couldn’t calm down and…”

He’s really crying now. Tears and snot running down his face.

He sits up bawling and shaking. You immediately wrap your arms around him as he shakes.

“My darling boy you’ve been too much for too long. You’ll kill yourself if this keeps happening.”

You kiss his head and hold him tight the pressure from your embrace calming him down some.

“When was the last time you’ve ate, slept or showered?!” You ask worriedly.

Tim shrugs and wipes at his eyes.

“You definitely need a hot shower if you want to clear up this sinus infection did you visit the doctor at all?!” You ask as you pull away.

He nods

“I’ve only felt ok enough to take my med, drink, water and sleep. I took a bath the other day but I just couldn’t get myself up unless I had to use the bathroom or order food to eat. Everything hurts so I could barely stomach or swallow.” He explains.

You grab a tissue from the tissue box on his nightstand and hold it over his nose.

“Blow your nose. We gotta get that gunk out. Green means it’s infection.”

He nods and does as you instruct.

“There we go. That help?” You ask as you toss it into the trash and then head to wash your hands in the bathroom.

He nodded “my head hurts though.”

Frowns “all that pressure doesn’t feel good does it?” You say.

He nods slowly as if moving his head around hurts.

“I’ll start a hot shower. It’ll help clear it up and you’ll feel much better.”

You go to his bathroom and start a hot shower for him. Knowing the steam will help him with his sinuses.

Once that’s done you help him out of bed and into the bathroom. He uses the bathroom before you help him prep for his shower. Then you help him into the shower. Then leave him to let him clean himself up.

While he showers you set about cleaning up the house. Staring the dishwasher, throwing out the trash and endless tissues and empty takeout containers and empty tissue boxes. Then start a load of laundry.

You set up a grocery order of soups, crackers, water bottles, tissue boxes, and whatever else he might need or want.

Once it arrives you put away the grocery items and bring up some tissue boxes and a water bottle for him.

Later.

You help Timothee into a pair of warm pjs. Then help him brush out his tangled and matted curls.

Then You help him take his medication and give him the water bottle.

“Can I get you anything else sweetness?” You ask.

He puts the water bottle aside on the nightstand once he’s done with his medication and reaches up at you making grabby hands tears in his eyes again.

“Hey hey why the tears? It’s alright.” You soothingly as you crawl into bed beside him. He practically throws himself at you.

You hold him tight the way he likes to be held when he’s stressed or sick.

“Everything is too much I’m tired, I’m scared, I’m…”

“Oh Timothee. Sweetie it’s been too much work for you. You need to get rest and heal. You need time to breathe. No wonder you are so sick.” You slowly run a hand through his curls. As he cries.

“I’ll call and talk to Brian about a break for a little while you need it. Especially with how sick you are.”

He shakes his head. Then winces from pain.

“No I can’t I have to work, I have to work I can’t delay filming I can’t..”

“Timothee try to breathe you can’t keep doing this it’s inhuman to push yourself so hard.”

He shakes his head again but keeps crying.

You hold him and he cries himself to sleep in your arms.

You start humming as you hold him listening to his mouth breathing because of the sinus pressure and infection. You so desperately want to take away his pain, stress and the need for perfectionism but you can’t.

Later that day.

You call with Brian and the rest of Tim’s team to move his schedule around to give him at least a couple weeks off so he can recover and just be instead of constantly on the move.

Timothee sleeps throughout the day and you decide to spend a few days with him to make sure he’ll be ok.

You call your dog walker to take your German shepherd Kodak for a while. So you can focus on Timmy and help him recover and recharge.

You cuddled Timothee close and soon you fall asleep with him in your arms.

Later.

You awake to Timothee squirming In your arms.

“Hey what’s wrong?” You ask concerned.

“Antibiotics are messing with my stomach. Need the bathroom now!” He whined

You help him to the bathroom. Then go about cleaning the rest of the apartment and putting away the now clean dishes and moving the laundry into the dryer.

Once that’s done you get another water bottle and tissue box and head back upstairs and find Timothee back in bed. He immediately reaches out for you.

You put the items on the nightstand and then

You crawl into bed with him and cuddle him close and tight just the way he likes it.

“Can I get you anything else Mon Armor?” You ask?

He shakes his head and buries his head in your chest before yawning and mumbling.

“Just being here is enough Mon Ange. Thank you.

“Of course my love. Always.”

[cryptidghostgirl]

heyhey! You said you had a request but couldn’t see it and in case it was mine here i am once again humbling asking you to feed my delusions. I am the same person who asked for the one with the fake dating trope and the one where reader spawns into the lobby :))

But i am here now going for a more angsty route! >:) Granted, this is more of an OC x Alastor but im describing it more generic for the populace BUT HERE GOES

right before “Cover me” reader kept silently glancing over at Alastor which was on the dance floor, subconsciously making him approach her. He goes of course they have a (Important for later) conversation like “I havent seen you around here. Are you new around town?” “Just moved in actually~” “Well, Id love to give you a tour someday, the names Alastor” and he kisses her hand “Ah a charmer, ill have to be careful around you” (OR A MORE ELEGANT CONVERSATION THEN THAT I SUCK AT DIALOGUE) then theres the knife and gun scene and the team up

And then they get together after about a year or two and I dont wanna say theyre legally married but eventually use wife and husband terms because its more fancy and gives them more respect in eyes of others but they have been together for around 5 years at this point.

but then the events of 1925 happen where readers twin brother dies because some bastards set fire to his house and Reader has an argument with Alastor before eventually going alone to avenge her brother (theyre like “theres too many, youll die” “so be it!”)

Reader kills them all (duh) but because it was January and extremely cold she eventually gets hypothermia and during the delusions it gives she stumbles and gets impaled on an abandoned rusty fence spike and dies :3

Alastor find her and gives her a proper burial and 8 years later in 1933 while visiting readers grave he gets shot canonically

But these 8 years gave reader enoigh time in hell to establish her own dominance and due to the life she lived and the death of hypothermia- she gets turned into a sort of blizzard demon. Around 180 cm with black limbs, white fluffy hair and fluffy ears and a white tail as a sinner form and for the demon form im thinking of the faceless Room Guardians by Anyaboz on Instagram (incredible artist btw) with ice powers like summoning weapons and ice spikes and ice touches and moving freely (like Kindred’s wolf in League) in her blizzard. Taking over half the pentagram like this-

Until 1933 when Alastor pops up in hell, does his demon business and eventually wants to check out these frozen parts and goes into a bar very similar to the one they met and sees reader at the table and then THEY HAVE THE EXACT SAME CONVERSATION THEY HAD WHEN THEY FIRST MET (maybe with the knife and gun scene too hehe) and theyre both like “i forgive you” or smth idk maybe they just have a silent agreement- either way.

After they met the blizzard stops and no one knows why or who did it :>, readers identity as the blizzard demon remaining a secret

BTW I LOVE YOU FOR MAKING MY DREAMS COME TRUE- if you want more i have a ton of ideas because brain rot- (also lil side note i kind of imagine reader as albino because it would fit my ocs lore a bit more- but keeping it basic would fit everyones ideas of their own reader so! do what you please you already made my day better by reading my ideas come to life :3))

yes!! i did see yours and it is currently in third place for requests i need to fill so ill probably get it done by this weekend, early next week at the latest. it’s just taking me a bit because i’m in midterms rn and also i want to make sure i get in all the details :) i think it might’ve been a request for alastor’s mom reader x lucifer?? i recall getting one about that but can’t seem to find it anywhere. long story short,, your request is in progress and i will post it as soon as i have the time to finish it up :)

UPDATE: This piece has officially been posted as of Friday February 23rd, 2024.

Frostbite (Alastor x Reader)

[burningvelvet]

Byron and Shelley chronicle their 1816 sailing trip in Lake Geneva — Day 2, June 24th —

Percy Shelley, History of a Six Weeks' Tour:

“The next morning we passed Yvoire, a scattered village with an ancient castle, whose houses are interspersed with trees, and which stands at a little distance from Nerni, on the promontory which bounds a deep bay, some miles in extent. So soon as we arrived at this promontory, the lake began to assume an aspect of wilder magnificence. The mountains of Savoy, whose summits were bright with snow, descended in broken slopes to the lake: on high, the rocks were dark with pine forests, which become deeper and more immense, until the ice and snow mingle with the points of naked rock that pierce the blue air; but below, groves of walnut, chesnut, and oak, with openings of lawny fields, attested the milder climate.

As soon as we had passed the opposite promontory, we saw the river Drance, which descends from between a chasm in the mountains, and makes a plain near the lake, intersected by its divided streams. Thousands of besolets, beautiful water-birds, like sea-gulls, but smaller, with purple on their backs, take their station on the shallows, where its waters mingle with the lake. As we approached Evian, the mountains descended more precipitously to the lake, and masses of intermingled wood and rock overhung its shining spire.

We arrived at this town about seven o'clock, after a day which involved more rapid changes of atmosphere than I ever recollect to have observed before. The morning was cold and wet; then an easterly wind, and the clouds hard and high; then thunder showers, and wind shifting to every quarter; then a warm blast from the south, and summer clouds hanging over the peaks, with bright blue sky between. About half an hour after we had arrived at Evian, a few flashes of lightning came from a dark cloud, directly over head, and continued after the cloud had dispersed. ‘Diespiter, per pura tonantes egit equos:’ a phenomenon which certainly had no influence on me, corresponding with that which it produced on Horace.

The appearance of the inhabitants of Evian is more wretched, diseased and poor, than I ever recollect to have seen. The contrast indeed between the subjects of the King of Sardinia and the citizens of the independent republics of Switzerland, affords a powerful illustration of the blighting mischiefs of despotism, within the space of a few miles. They have mineral waters here, eaux savonneuses, they call them. In the evening we had some difficulty about our passports, but so soon as the syndic heard my companion's rank and name, he apologized for the circumstance. The inn was good. During our voyage, on the distant height of a hill, covered with pine-forests, we saw a ruined castle, which reminded me of those on the Rhine.”

Lord Byron in a letter to Hobhouse:

"Evian—June 23d. 1816

“At the present writing I am on my way on a water-tour round the Lake Leman — and am thus far proceeded in a pretty open boat which I bought & navigate — it is an English one & was brought lately from Bordeaux — I am on shore for the Night — and have just had a row with the Syndic of this town who wanted my passports which I left at Diodati not thinking they would be wanted except in grand route — but it seems this is Savoy and the dominion of his Cagliari Majesty whom we saw at his own Opera — in his own city — in 1809 — however by dint of references to Geneva — & other corroborations — together with being in a very ill humour — Truth has prevailed — wonderful to relate they actually take one's word for a fact - although it is credible and indubitable. — Tomorrow we go to Meillerai - & Clarens - & Vevey - with Rousseau in hand - to see his scenery - according to his delineation in his Heloise now before me. - The views have hitherto been very fine - but I should conceive less so than those of the remainder of the lake.”

UPDATE: I took my dates from Shelley, but his dates must have been confused and Byron's must be more accurate. Because I'd been confused by Byron's dates in the past, since he often wrote past midnight (thus often referring his prior day as "today"), I had assumed Shelley was more trustworthy. According to Shelley and His Circle vol. 4 pp. 700-701, they left on June 22nd which was a Saturday, and so I believe each day of their trip would be one earlier than I and Shelley stated in these posts.

Taken from Shelley and His Circle:

"TIMETABLE OF THE LAKE GENEVA TOUR

June 22, Saturday: Sailed from Montalègre, slept at Nernier.

June 23, Sunday: Sailed from Nernier, slept at Evian.

June 24, Monday: Sailed from Evian, encountered storm off Meillerie, slept at St. Gingolph.

June 25, Tuesday: Sailed from St. Gingolph, saw the mouths of the Rhone, visited Chillon Castle, landed at Clarens, visited bosquet de Julie, slept at Mme. Pauly's house (Place Gambetta) at Clarens.

June 26, Wednesday: Visited Le Châtelard, and the bosquet de Julie, sailed from Clarens, visited Vevey, slept at the Hotel de l'Ancre at Ouchy.

June 27, Thursday: Visited Gibbon's house at Lausanne, slept at Ouchy.

June 28, Friday: Remained at Ouchy.

June 29, Saturday: Sailed from Ouchy, slept at [?Rolle].

June 30, Sunday: Sailed from [?Rolle], arrived at Montalègre."

[hutanna]

☮️⚓️💟JJBA Badges (and portraits) on Saturday, Aug. 29th💟⚓️☮️

Hello guys! I’m gonna be putting out some badges and drawings on ✨Saturday, August 29th @ 4:00pm EST ✨ in my Etsy shop (link in bio). I haven’t made a ton of badges and other accessories this time—I’ve been busy with other projects and changing life plans unfortunately....gosh there’s been a lot of different things going on lately 😅 so much planning and figuring out how to maneuver through the COVID-19 world.

Regardless I’m looking forward to putting these babies out and sending some of them off soon! This is my first time putting out these wooden portraits too so I’m stoked 🌸🌸

[ldss-interactive]

At Alter’s End: A CYOA Novel

Overview:

Trentworth, Maine. A town of ten thousand southeast of Ellsworth and North of Bayside. Its only bragging point since its conception in 1867 was being a shoreline city and cheaper than any of the other big tourist towns. Nothing ever happened here, besides the occasional drowning or fishing trip accident, until the killings started. They lasted five years in total and 48 people were lost to the killer’s sick desires. Robert Hall terrorized this small town, slipping under the radar by focusing on those considered “undesirable”; sex workers, orphans, drug addicts, and the like. Now ten years later, ten years after the killer has been put behind bars, murders have begun again. A copycat killer has come to Trentworth. And they seem to be targeting the ones left behind, still trying to pick up the shattered pieces of their lives…

You take the role of a highschool senior; your parents having died in a home fire shortly before the killer was put behind bars and now under the care of your workaholic aunt. Make allies of your classmates or attempt to go it alone, clear your parents’ name from their believed involvement with the killer or fight to put the past behind you, deal with the skeletons in your closet and mind or bury them deeper... Oh, and make sure your history project is turned in on time. With two young siblings depending on you and a whole host of problems a highschool student should never have to deal with, can you survive this nightmare made real?

Trigger Warnings: This game will go into very heavy topics including the following; murder, death, various mental health issues (such as PTSD, depression, and anxiety), abandonment, gambling, various types of drug addiction, self harm mentions (not happening to the MC or shown in graphic detail), suicide, sex work, child abuse (mental, emotional, and physical), and dangerous situations. This is a murder mystery/thriller, it is NOT intended for audiences below 18.

Hello! Thank you for showing interest in At Alter’s End. This is a Choose Your Own Adventure style novel in the Thriller and Murder Mystery genres. It would also fit nicely in the Drama genre as well, but Drama is not the focus. This will be a rather lengthy project, with fifteen chapters plus a prologue and epilogue planned.

You take on the role of a senior at Trentworth High. Join an after-school activity, take care of your younger siblings, prepare for finals, get a part time job, find a date to homecoming, and survive your worst nightmare come to life. The copycat killer is targeting the students of your school and no one is safe. With the police dragging their feet, no help coming any time soon from any higher up law enforcement, and the locals refusing to acknowledge the possibility of a copycat killer, it’s up to you and your classmates to find the person responsible...before it’s too late.

- You can play as female, male, nonbinary, or trans!

- You can be straight, gay, or bisexual!

- A highly customizable MC including hair color, eye color, skin color, hair length, height, and personality and interests!

- The ability to choose which mental illness the MC suffers from due to the trauma of their past from the following:

Anxiety, Depression, or PTSD.

- The MC is deaf in their right ear ear due to the way in which their parents died; this is not something that can be changed.

- Choose from 7 different official after-school activities! Trentworth Volunteers, Up and Coming Artists, National Debate Society, National Honors Society, Co-Ed Varsity Basketball, Creative Writing, and Trentworth Gardeners!

- Bond with your classmates, explore your town, and help raise your younger siblings!

- Rescue your parents’ bakery from corporate clutches or let it go!

- Find the killer, stop the murders, and put a stop to the rumors that have plagued your every step for 10 years!

Vanya: Oldest adoptive twin sibling to MC’s adoptive siblings, 6 years younger than MC. Strong-headed, intelligent, and always getting into trouble. She looks after her brother and MC in the ways she can.

Ajay: Youngest adoptive twin sibling to MC’s adoptive sibling, 6 years younger than MC. Nearly completely blind since birth, he enjoys painting and other artistic endeavors. Obedient yet opinionated.

Aunt Emma: The workaholic aunt that takes custody of MC and their younger siblings after the death of their parents. Well meaning but absent most of the time on business trips or at the office.

Kwan Hall: An adoptive relative to Robert Hall; aloof, intelligent, and completely ostracized by Trentworth as a whole. When the killings start again the town’s attention is immediately turned on Kwan. He’s the first to begin investigating the killings when the police prove their incompetence. He is of Korean descent, standing at 5’6” with dark hair and dark eyes. His most notable feature is the long scar that stretches from his forehead’s hairline, down his left temple, and ends just below his jawline and the constant disinterest on his face. He is asexual in that he doesn’t experience sexual attraction at all. He is also bisexual.

Alessia D’Agostina: Trentworth High’s school president. She’s clawed her way tooth and nail up to earn the respect of both the school faculty and her fellow classmates; she’s strong-willed, dependable, and always looks at things through a logical lens. When she sees her classmates dying, she takes it upon herself to try and stop this once and for all. With dark skin, deep brown eyes, long braided hair, and standing at 5’8” her confidence and sense of self always make sure she stands out from the crowd. Alessia is bisexual.

Georgiy Kuzmin: Twin brother to Anastasiya Kuzmin; he is, in the kindest way possible, not the brightest bulb in the box. Yet he always means well and is more than willing to offer a helping hand. As the co-captain of the basketball team, captain of the baseball team, and the star of the swim team, Georgiy is one of the most popular and well beloved students at Trentworth High. When he realizes his friends are in danger, he willingly throws himself into the investigation to do all he can to help. With fair skin, dirty blond hair, bubbly green eyes, and standing at 6’1” he cuts an approachable figure to anyone who knows him. Georgiy is gay.

Anastasiya Kuzmin: Twin sister to Georgiy Kuzmin: she and her brother are alike in so many ways apart from just appearance. Anastasiya, who goes by Ana more often than not, is head of the Co-Ed Varsity Basketball team, the Girls’ softball team, and the Tennis team. Just as popular and loved as her brother, Ana may not be the smartest but she makes up for it with passion and dedication. Like her brother, she has fairer skin, dirty blond hair, and bright green eyes. Also like her brother, she felt she couldn’t just sit around while her friends were put in danger and agreed to join the investigation. Ana is gay and demiromantic, meaning she only gains feelings for someone after having a strong relationship with them.

Lillian Triano: A quiet, withdrawn girl who mainly keeps to herself. Due to the fact that Trentworth High demands for every senior to be apart of an elective, she is mainly seen in afterschool reading club run by Ms. Habeeb. She’s MC’s closest friend, having been one of the only people who didn’t believe the rumors that MC’s parents were assisting Robert Hall in his murders. She has an olive complexion, brown eyes, a heavy dose of freckles, and stands at 5’1”. Lillian is gay.

Jasmine Abernathy: Jasmine is Trentworth High’s self proclaimed “Best news source!” After the school newspaper was disbanded, Jasmine took it upon herself to keep freedom of the press alive. She’s fierce in her pursuit of the truth and never one to back down from a fight, though her rash attitude can get her into some sticky situations on occasion. With vibrant red hair, dark brown eyes, and standing at 5’3” she puts the term “fire” in Fire Signs. (She’s an Aries in astrology!) When the copycat killings began, it was no surprise when she took the case head on. Jasmine is bisexual.

Asa San Nicholas: Asa is the oldest of a set of triplets; they’re the type to march to the beat of their own drum, often not listening to what anyone has to say about themselves or their interests. Asa is a firm believer in the paranormal and it isn’t uncommon to find them indulging in their interest in various ways. “The spirits are distrubed. These deaths aren’t meant to happen.” Asa’s reason for getting involved seems to tie directly back to their “connection” with the spirits of the town. Asa has black hair, most often tied in a ponytail, hazel eyes, and an olive skin tone. At 6’4” they tower over most everyone...something they seem to enjoy a great deal. Asa doesn’t see gender and is interested in people regardless of how they present.

Leo San Nicholas: The middle of the triplets. They are genderfluid, okay with any pronouns. Leo is, for lack of a better word, eccentric. A bit of an adrenaline junkie, you can often find them cliff diving or giving their siblings heart attacks by playing russian roulette with a chocolate gun. To them, it isn’t fun if there isn’t a little danger involved; naturally, an investigation into a serial killer scratches that itch quite nicely. Their black hair is clipped short, multiple piercings visible on each ear, and their heterochromatic hazel and green eyes are often stated to stare through a person. Although Leo is genderfluid, they are only interested in people who present as female.

The demo is upcoming! When it is available I will make a post announcing it! I will also update this post with the link! This game is written in choicescript; the demo will be published on Dashingdon and the final game will be published for free on itch.io. I am open for questions regarding this game/novel and once the demo is published I will also be publishing a link to my Ko-fi! Until then, please don’t hesitate to ask if you have any questions!

[sally-mun]

Episode 7: Abandon Ship

The good news is that the plan is fairly simple. The Master Emerald is literally already doing the heavy lifting, so all Kayla-La and her team need to work out is stabilization. The floating ruins demonstrate that ambient chaos doesn’t always leave things structurally sound, meaning that if a sizeable chunk of the plateau base is knocked out from under them, they’ll need to exert more chaos on the missing side to balance against the remaining spire. Kayla-La’s ring-based X-ray machine serves as a springboard for her new endeavor, and soon enough she forms the rough design for a new device: A pedestal to support and cradle the Master Emerald. It will ensure that the massive gem stays exactly where they want it to be, while also granting themselves constant and easy access to chaos energy, which can be directed as needed.

However, whether or not the plateau will collapse isn’t the only threat the White Comet poses; the impact itself could raze Echidnaopolis in its entirety if they don’t think ahead and secure their architecture. The governor fast-tracks approvals to convert high-capacity public spaces into safe havens for citizens to gather if they feel unsafe in their homes, and many individuals scramble to build private bunkers for their families. Many businesses and institutions completely shut down in order to prepare for the impact to the best of their ability, especially delicate locations like hospitals, museums, schools, and libraries. The governor makes public funding available to help with such preparations, and for the most part, everything progresses smoothly.

The bad news, unfortunately, is that ‘simple’ is rarely synonymous with ‘easy.’ No amount of assurance or preparation can quell the anxieties of those that voted against Kayla-La’s plan, and the once-minimal civil unrest heightens with each passing day. It doesn’t matter that she’s produced conclusive evidence that the Master Emerald is a self-perpetuating source of energy, or that Jarvis’ team regularly releases real-time updates on any changes in the White Comet’s trajectory and the impact plans adjust around that data. Desperate citizens routinely congregate at government buildings to plead for the use of Echidnaopolis’ flying vehicles so they can flee the plateau. If the choices are to sit back and wait for an obviously certain death or to blindly search for the Albion settlement, they’d much rather take their chances with Albion! Even without knowing exactly where it is, they should at least have the option to go! Those that want to leave should not be forced to stay just because everyone else has resigned themselves to their fate – and the city’s withholding of their ONE viable means of escape is tantamount to murder!!

The protests largely go unacknowledged by the governor, however; there are so many preparations to make in such a densely compressed scale of time that there just isn’t a good way to deal with the situation properly, so in most cases, they’re ignored. The governor largely regards the protests as little more than an ill-educated tantrum, anyway; these people clearly don’t understand the intricacies of the work being done to protect them, and trying to get them up to speed would ultimately only take time and resources away from completing preparations. Tensions continue to climb with each passing day, and as the impact date approaches, naysayers at the ends of their ropes find those ropes snapping in half. Protests intensify citywide, many of which escalate into violence.

But that’s not what really catches the governor’s attention; no, the real surprise is when Kayla-La barges into City Hall unannounced and demands the release of Echidnaopolis’ flying vehicles to those that want to use them. The governor can’t help but balk; Kayla-La herself is the one that campaigned AGAINST such an idea in the beginning!! She was so adamant about NOT attempting an evacuation, and now she’s come to advocate for exactly that?? How is anyone supposed to trust anything she says at this point with this sort of flip-flopping?!

Don’t pretend the circumstances are equivalent, she says sternly. Evacuation was only ever on the table at all because there were no other ideas at the time. Things are different now; most of the population wants to stay, and the sect that wants to leave is small enough that they probably COULD all be evacuated with the few flying vehicles available. If they’re willing face the risks associated with leaving, then just let them leave! It’s certainly safer than provoking them to lash out!

The governor thanks Kayla-La for her input, but reminds her that this is an area well beyond her expertise. Citizens are free to gather, petition, and protest to make their voices heard, but they may not use threats, violence, or other intimidation tactics to force the hands of those in decision-making positions. That is the textbook definition of terrorism, and bowing to the demands of these radicals now will only add more fuel to the fire. When children misbehave, one does not reward that bad behavior by giving in to their demands!

Give the protesters more credit than THAT, Kayla-La insists!! Do you have any idea how condescending it is to regard people desperately trying to save their own lives as the equivalent of a toddler that wants a cookie?! Maybe they’re getting more extreme because it’s clear you’re not listening to them. You whine about how dissenters should only put on peaceful protests, but when they did exactly that, they were ignored! The situation is escalating because they aren’t being taken seriously! If you really want to solve the problem, then solve it! Why in the world won’t you just allow those that want to leave to do so?!

Because it will set a nasty precedent for those that remain, the governor counters. Even if the protesters leave, the rest of the population will learn that using threats and violence are apparently effective methods for enacting a desired change. This is why it’s so important that the city doesn’t hand over the flying vehicles; they just can’t risk that sort of rhetoric being reinforced. Although giving in to the demands would clearly pay off in the short term, there’s no telling what sort of domino effect it may cause down the line.

Do you really think so little of your constituents, Kayla-La asks?! It’s clear that this situation is an outlier! Extreme circumstances call for equally extreme solutions – and everyone can see that denying the protesters the right to leave the plateau is putting EVERYONE’S lives at risk. The protests are popping up primarily at impact preparation sites, and they’ve already caused significant delays. If this stand-off continues much longer, her teams could be in real danger of missing critical deadlines. Letting the protesters leave – peacefully – will allow the rest of Echidnaopolis to get back on schedule! The people of this city would likely prefer you work WITH the dissenters, so that EVERYONE is safer!

Well she’s definitely got one thing right, the governor says: They don’t have time to spare anymore. Enough has already been sacrificed to the squabbling, so at this point it’s better to just nip the situation in the bud. An announcement will be made as soon as this session is over that no more incidents will be tolerated, and if protesters so much as disturb one spine on the head of a city worker or bystander, they are to be immediately detained until after the impact. It’s not fair to the citizens who ARE doing their part to divert so many resources toward managing and appeasing the fears of such a small minority!

In what universe does the governor think it would LESSEN the redirection of resources to lock up the protesters?! Have you given any thought at all to what it would take to keep that many people properly housed? Do you WANT the city to be responsible for feeding them, clothing them, bathing them, and guarding them?? It would be a massive waste even if it was only a handful of people, but to propose locking up the entire group is beyond absurd. Why is incarceration the first solution instead of finding a middle ground? The protesters aren’t savage degenerates seeking to destroy Echidnaopolis at its core. All they want is the freedom to live the life of their choosing, without fear! If they’re simply allowed to leave, it will actually free up EXTRA resources for those that stay! Literally everybody wins!!

The governor doesn’t answer right away, instead scrutinizing Kayla-La’s every detail with piercing eyes and a tight frown. Why exactly is she even fighting this fight? What’s in it for her? This is a group of people that openly reject her plans to save them, even going so far as to actively disrupt her work. What interest does Kayla-La have in getting them what they want? What’s her REAL motive?

Kayla-La squints while struggling to process the sheer gulf of unashamed cynicism that’s fallen upon her ears. Is this really happening? Does she actually need to explain the concept of compassion to someone whose profession should necessarily require it the most?! It doesn’t matter that the protesters aren’t interested in Kayla-La’s solution to the White Comet, she wants to say! They don’t have to be ‘on her side’ in order for her to feel a responsibility towards them! Why assume she’s only capable of viewing people in terms of how they’re going to personally benefit HER?! If you honestly can’t understand the value of cooperating with people that don’t agree with you, then you’re the LAST person who should EVER have become a lawmaker!!

But she doesn’t say that. It’s torturous to hold it in, but Kayla-La doesn’t say a word of it. Instead, she thinks back on the last time she was in the governor’s chamber and couldn’t seem to get through. Presenting data doesn’t get things moving. Logic and reason don’t get things moving. Basic appeals to empathy don’t get things moving. She has to change her approach. She has to speak in a language the governor can not only hear, but will listen to.

Closing her eyes and drawing a calming breath, Kayla-La clears her throat and leans ever so slightly closer to the governor’s face. Here’s the bottom line: Do you want to survive the White Comet, or not? You do? Then work with the protesters. It’s not that complicated, so stop pretending it is and take care of it. If you don’t, the preparations won’t be completed in time and they’re probably all going to die. It’s literally one or the other. Pick one.

Within a few days, emergency legislation is drafted to commandeer the use of any and all flying vehicles in the city, with provisions to have them replaced in some capacity after the situation with the White Comet has passed. Plans are hastily thrown together for the evacuation of any citizen that wishes to leave, but unfortunately, there’s still the problem of having so few ships that can do the job. Space is so limited that most evacuees leave with only a handful of personal items, and some with merely the clothes on their backs. It’s an enormous risk, as they might be traveling for several days, but it’s the only way to ensure that everyone who wants to go can do so. Besides, they reason, they only need enough to make it through the trip itself; they’ll be able to replace the rest of their belongings upon their arrival in Albion.

As the last of the airships disappear into the horizon, Kayla-La feels her first truly nervous jolt burn through the pit of her stomach. The only alternative means of survival is officially gone now, which means everything is definitely riding on her. But the thought is energizing, not intimidating. Don’t worry, Echidnaopolis, she thinks while returning to her research lab. I’ll protect you, no matter what. One way or another, I’m going to see to it that you’re all safe. You can trust me. I’m not giving up on you.

I will be your guardian.

<< Last | First | Index | Next >> If you enjoyed this episode, please consider supporting me on Patreon or tipping me on Ko-Fi!

[jamilelucato]

ok but if you do a fred weasleyx plus size!slytherin!reader, i would love you foreverr. and like, if it could be a soft enemies to lovers (something like she "heard" him calling her fat or whatever) and she now is a baddy... you know what, i just described myself here lol but thank you! and congrats!

Sorry [F.W.]

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Plus size!Slytherin!reader

Summary: Fred and you used to be best friends until he broke your heart.

Warning: cursing; body insecurities

A/N: I loved this request so so much! The fact that it’s a plus-size reader that is not in Hufflepuff is the best part for me, because, besides the fact that it’s already hard to find plus size reader to hp fanfics, they are always Hufflepuff. So hope you guys like it! (my gif!)

Last chance to send a request! || Harry Potter Masterlist 

Usually, Fred would avoid all the female acts happening around him, but today, he couldn’t just pass by. He was coming from Herbology when he heard the familiar voice from a girl Fred rather much ignore and he was doing just that when he heard a second voice follow.

“Give it back, y/L/N,” said the voice he recognized from Alicia Spinnet.

“Oh, come on, Alicia; just let me finish, okay?” Fred could visualize the smirk coming from y/L/N’s lips. “...‘dare I say it was one of the best dates I’ve gone to this year. Hogwarts men used to be better’. Oh, poor Alicia, huh? No boy enough fancying?”

“That’s enough, y/L/N. Give it here,” Alicia tried again, unsuccessful.

“Can’t stop now, Alicia, just so close to ending... Let me see, where was I? Oh, ‘maybe I should give Fred a second chance’. Such a sweetie, aren’t you, Alicia?” the mean girl’s voice failed slightly towards the end of the reading, but she managed to recompose.

That was enough for Fred to hear.

He turned around, getting back to the corridor that headed to Gryffindor’s entrance.

Just as he pictured in his mind, y/N y/L/N and her gang had cornered Alicia Spinnet, who could only watch while the girls read Alicia’s diary — one of y/N’s goons held the poor Gryffindor’s wand.

“Stop it, y/L/N. Give her wand and her diary back to Alicia, okay?” Fred ordered, making himself seen and heard.

The Slytherin girl’s eyes went from the diary in hands to the ginger boy involuntarily, and you struggled to hold the smirk. 

“What makes you think I’ll obey you, Weasley?” replied y/N, working very hard to make Fred’s last name sound ridiculous in your accent.

“Just do it, y/L/N, I don’t have time for your childish acts.”

Fred was rolling his eyes when your laugh stopped him. She used to have a beautiful laugh, Fred thought to himself, remembering a time before Hogwarts. Well, it’s not only her laughs that have gone to waste...

“Fred Weasley, the king of stupid pranks, calling me a child? Really?” this time, all your goons followed laughing. “Anyway, here goes, Alicia,” you tossed Alicia her diary with no consideration, what so ever. “I’ve read everything. Keep me updated, will you?” you chuckled.

“My wand,” Alicia reminded, stepping towards the Slytherin next to you, who held her wand. The taller girl exchanged looks with y/N, who just shrugged in response, so the goon ended up giving Alicia her wand back.

Fred held Alicia back by her arm, trying not to grab it too hard. Alicia stopped and looked up, blushing right away. Fred decided it was best not to mention he had heard the diary reading — mainly because it was about their date last Saturday — and he just asked if she was okay. Alicia nodded and walked away.

“When are you gonna stop?” Fred asked y/N once Alicia was gone, and y/N’s two goons had stepped away, enough for them not to hear Fred.

“Fred, take care of yourself, okay? Let me be me,” you said, sighing angrily and avoiding his eyes.

The ginger boy watched as you walked away with heavy steps as if every step away from Fred required you to fight a battle with yourself.

“I would,” he answered, in a whisper, feeling defeated. “But that’s not you.”

***

Fred Weasley was accustomed to your little fights all over the castle, picking, generally, Gryffindor girls and especially the ones most people would consider “the prettiest”.

Not many people overlooked your acts — they always thought you were like this because life was probably hard at a chubby girl, principally one from the high society. Your two best friends, or how Fred liked to call them, your goons, knew all about how your mom was a monster with you because of your weight.

Fred used to know everything about you and your mom in a not so distant past.

You lived near the Weasleys, and, being just nine months younger than the twins made you three grow up close. They were your best friends until they had to leave and go to Hogwarts.

You waited patiently for your time to go to the school and finally be with the twins all the time again, but they completely ignored you once in Hogwarts.

You tried your hard to be around, but they pretended they couldn’t hear you calling in the corridors. They got up from the tables and left when they saw you approaching. And then, one day, probably tired of your stupids attempts, Fred shouted at you in front of the whole Gryffindor table:

“Leave me alone, fatty!”

Those words echoed in your mind for days and days. Sometimes, even now, barely six years later, you still could hear Fred calling you fatty. And it hurt extra hard because it was your best friend, and it was Fred, the one you secretly fancied since 10.

You never tried approaching Fred — or George, for that matter — ever again. You started over in Slytherin, looking for new friends. You had to wait for your second-year when Sabrina and Jennifer got to Hogwarts, and they accepted being your friend right away. 

They never bothered with your weight, and they hexed everybody that ever dared to say something about it. 

Sometimes, you could see the old Fred and George in Sabrina and Jennifer. Sure, if they were shorter, female and blond.

Just being a Slytherin and hexing the ones who spoke ill of you and your friends didn’t make you the bitter girl you became — it was, again, Fred’s fault.

It began with laughing at the pretty girls around the school, preferably the ones Fred would smirk to in the corridors between classes. Then, when Fred started to snog around, you began torment these girls.

It was fun at first, but now, when you had just messed with Alicia Spinnet for going on a date with Fred, you weren’t as happy as you’d have been one year ago.

“Told you it was not a good idea,” said Sabrina when you sat down in the couch in the Slytherin common room, next to her. “Those girls are innocent.”

“And what? I’m not?” 

“You are, but not when you mess with them!” pointed out Jennifer. She’s the one with the shorter temper from all of you. “I mean, it was fun while doing it, but now, we’re just baddies bored.”

There was a minute of silence before you spoke again.

“What was I supposed to do? Just be quiet and watch Alicia fall for Fred?” you sighed. “At least now she won’t have the guts.”

“That’s just pure evil,” said Sabrina. You rolled your eyes, nudging her jokingly.

“You should ask him out,” said Jennifer and not only you, but Sabrina also stopped breathing and stared at Jen. “What? We three know that’s the only permanent fix.”

“As if he would say yes,” you frowned and chuckled, but that just hurt your feelings a bit more.

“He could,” pondered Sabrina, backing Jen up.

“Do I have to remind you what he called me?” you instantly got up from the couch and stared down at your best friends.

“We remember. But Fred was only twelve, y/N,” pointed out Sabrina, always seeing the good in everyone.

“And you were kinda annoying,” added Jen.

You showed Jen your tongue before leaving them in the common room. Your brain was working hard with opposite thoughts — a part of you wanted to go and confess to Fred and apologize for mistreating all the girls he ever liked. But you knew that you were too proud to do that, and it wasn’t like he was going to magically welcome you with a kiss, either.

It had been a long time since you two were best friends. Sabrina was right — Fred changed; you changed. No longer are helpless children, who fled at dawn to find themselves in the lake hidden in the forest near their homes.

You both grew up, and whether you wanted to or not, you moved on.

You learned to confront your mother — even if she still drives you crazy, prescribing crazy diets that she heard about in the Muggle world. Fred achieved his personal brilliance — he no longer lived in the shadows of his older brothers, much less wanted to imitate them, as he used to say.

What your best friends didn’t know; what really scared you was that maybe you didn’t love Fred anymore.

Something, in the depths of his soul, said that the silly redhead, who did everything to stop you from crying and that used to give you his own sweets, even when he really wanted them, was still there. But when you bumped into the halls, and your eyes met, Fred looked more and more unrecognizable.

***

“So... Alicia wonders if you’re gonna ask her out again,” George informed his twin as soon as he sat down at the Gryffindor table.

“Huh?” Fred mumbles, noticing he had been zoning out.

George moves around in his seat, trying to copy the path Fred’s eyes made to his twin.

“I think the answer is never,” George says calmly, chuckling with himself. 

“What’re you talking about?” Fred demands, a bit too harsh than he should’ve been.

“Alicia wanted a second date with you, it appears. But you don’t,” George finally explains, getting a piece of bread from the board in front of him. “You don’t do second dates; should’ve just told her.”

“You know me,” Fred sighed, not really wanting to keep the conversation going.

“When are you going to talk to her?” George asks, without raising his eyes from his food.

Fred turned to his twin, confused. But his performance doesn’t last — Fred knows it’s pointless to hide something from George. Many times, George understand what’s happening with Fred before himself realizes.

“I don’t know what to say,” Fred babbled, frustrated with himself for being so stupid and letting things get this bad.

The two Weasley are staring across the Hall, looking at y/N as she eats her lunch, unaware of the boys staring at her. And that isn’t a first — you are always unaware of boys gazing at you.

“I don’t think there’s something in need to be said other than an apology. From both parts,” said George, raising just one brow. “I think you two just need each other; to be at the presence of one another.”

“As if I can just stumble on her and stay there,” Fred rolls his eyes.

“You could try,” George shrugged.

Fred stared at his twin was last time, knowing would be pointless to say something else.

***

“Here comes the fatty,” laughed out loud Blaise. 

Involuntarily, you cringed. It was as if every year learning to deal with bullies had disappeared; it was like you were ten again and running scared of the bad boys.

Blaise Zabini had something against you, or so it seemed. It wasn’t the first time he had offended you, and it definitely wouldn’t be the last. And it hurt more when the offence came from him because he was a handsome boy. It always hurts the most when it comes from pretty boys.

“Can’t skip a meal for your own good, can you?” he laughed again, nudging you with his shoulder while passing through you to get to the Slytherin table for the last feast of the day.

“Shut it, Blaise,” a voice came from behind you — strong, powerful, commanding.

You slowly turned around, ducking even more when you notice who was the owner of the voice. Not that you had any doubts before turning — you could recognize Fred’s voice miles away.

“What did you say to me, Weasley?” Blaise turned too, with an angry look. Two friends of his came closer.

“I said for you to keep you fucking mouth shut,” shouted Fred, clearly losing his temper.

You stared at the red-haired boy like he was your saviour. You didn’t need it, but sure as hell was nice to know you had one.

Blaise came forward, but Fred got to his face first, punching it right in the middle. Blaise cried, running his hands thought the bloody mess his face was now.

Blaise’s friends rushed towards Fred, but behind him, Lee Jordan and George fetched their wands and pointed towards the boys, who stepped back for a second.

Fred was rushing to punch Blaise again, but the boys kinda stopped him, while he fought them, wandless. 

You were lost in the chaos, the whole school watching and no teacher seemed to be around to stop it. When you got your functions back, you ran towards Fred, to stop his nonsense, but you weren’t fast enough, and when you pulled him away, the taller of Blaise’s friends had already punched Fred in the eye.

“Stop it now, all of you!” you shouted, and George immediately stepped in front of you, pointing his wand at the boys while you and Fred walked out of the Great Hall’s entrance. Blaise ran out of there too, but he used the other corridor.

Pushing doors until you found one that opened, you shoved Fred inside.

“Sit down, I can’t take a look at your eye like this,” you complained, and without looking at you, he pulled a chair and sat down.

You stepped closer, raising your hand towards his face. He didn’t take his hand off his eye, so you, gently, with your hand, pushed his away.

“Oh, Freddie,” you let it slip, slowly rubbing your thumb over his purple eyelid. At least, he wasn’t bleeding. “Episky,” you whispered, pointing your wand towards his blackeye.

Magic was good because of things like that — his eye was immediately better. Probably not perfect, it would need a small amount of time for the colour to go back to its completely normal. It was no longer purple, but a soft tone of pink.

It didn’t seem like long, although it also didn’t seem like time was passing, you and Fred stared at each other eyes, expecting something apparently, something that never came. An apology? A thank you?

“You shouldn’t have done that to Blaise,” you finally said, sighing before letting the words out. Since you were still standing up, you placed your hands on your knees, an attempt of being on eye-line with Fred.

“He deserved worst,” Fred argued.

“Well, yes,” you shrugged. “But you had nothing to do with it.”

“What is that suppose to mean?” Fred asked, raising his tone.

“It’s supposed to mean that you have nothing to do with my business, Fred,” you sighed, suddenly surprised to be the calm one.

“Really?” he raised a brow, trying to find a better spot in the chair. You were about to roll your eyes when he continued. “Because it seems we’re always messing with each other’s business.”

“What’s that suppose to mean?” you used his own words against him.

“I think you know,” he said, regretting immediately for having used such a harsh tone. He breathed, stretching his back. “Our paths always cross, even when you try to avoid me.”

“Avoid you?” you asked. “Avoid you?” you raised your tone. “I’m not the one who pushed you away! I’m not the one who decided to ignore you in the corridors when you were completely new in the school — when you knew nobody!” you took your hands out of your knees and stepped back, turning your face away because you knew tears could appear at any moment. “I’m not the one who called my supposedly best friend a fatty!”

You couldn’t see Fred’s face since you were gazing away, bu you heard his gasp and then dozen of attempts to say something, but he apparently couldn’t organize his words.

He couldn’t find an excuse.

“y/N, look, I’m sorry. There’s nothing I can say to fix that, I know. I was a jerk,” Fred said, calling your attention back to him. “I deserve everything you wanna call me because I was fucking stupid. A bloody fool and worse. I was just so naive, trying to impress the Gryffindor table by saying trash to a Slytherin. And then I avoided you and made George avoid you too. You didn’t deserve it — You don’t deserve it.”

You looked back at him, his eyes sparkling with what you thought was the beginning of tears.

“I really don’t deserve it.”

“I know,” he sighed. “So, thank you for... the eye. I’ll be out of your way.”

“Wait,” you stopped him before he even had a chance to get up.

“What?” he looked up, staring deep into your eyes.

You cringed, suddenly unsure of what to say. Why did you interrupt Fred? Why hadn’t you let the idiot out of the room, out of your life?

Why did you always go back to him?

“I don’t want for you to get out of my way,” you said, your voice was practically a whisper, he might not even have heard it.

But it was Fred, and he had been waiting for that for so long.

“We were best friends, Fred,” you groaned, leaning your back lower.

“We were never best friends,” Fred let out, squeezing his eyes tight, biting his lower lip in a way that caught your eye. “You can’t be friends with someone you’re in love with,” he said as if it explained everything.

Your heart skipped a beat — you thought he never knew you fancied him.

“You knew,” you commented, running your fingers through your scalp.

“I knew? That I love you? Well, it took me a while to figure it out, but it was easier when I saw how George thought about you was a bit different than how I thought about you and things just... clicked,” he gave you a full explanation of something you did not ask, but, God, were you happy to hear. “So, I’m sorry, I can’t pretend I’m your friend. It’d be too painful at this point.”

“Freddie?” you called his name while placing your hands in his jaw. “I don’t wanna be your friend either,” you whispered, your face so close to his and then, when you smirked, he gasped.

“Oh.”

“Oh indeed,” you chuckled before he pulled your face closer, gently. Then he locked your mouths together in the softest of the kisses.

But softness and the gentleness didn’t last long. It was hard having to bend down to reach his lips, and Fred noticed your struggle. He fastly pulled you down, by moving a hand to your waist and pulling it towards his lap.

You gulped in the middle of the kiss, scared, for a second, it would be too heavy for him or even for the chair. But neither complained. It seemed you were weightless to Fred, who couldn’t care less your whole body was supported by his. Actually, he seemed to care, but in a way much more pleasurable.

The kiss turned to a much hot make-out session, with hands wandering both bodies, and some soft giggled every time you two gasped for air. You were both desperate — both have been dreaming of this for too long.

“You are perfect,” Fred whispered in your ear before biting it.

You had to bit your own lip to hold a groan in. 

“Beautiful, talented, amazing...” he lost himself in his words when you leaned for his neck. Guess I found his weak spot, you smiled to yourself. “Definitely not a witch — you’re a goddess.”

“Keep complementing, and we’ll never leave this room,” you smiled before biting his lip this time.

“That’s the plan,” he smirked. “Should’ve punched a jerk before if I knew I would get this thank you.”

You leaned away just for a second, so you could see his eyes and they sparkled just for you.

“Don’t worry,” you said, “I can find you other jerks to punch around.”

[willadisastercry]

Holding out for hope you don’t even have: ‘When the Dust Clears’ pt.3

tw: threat of drowning gets very real. kinda emotionally heavy. nothing graphic or gory, p much just shiro accepting that he’s about to die.

The clock is running. And so is the water. In buckets—no, probably more like gallons—enough that Shiro needs a miracle. But he’s pretty much maxed out several lifetimes worth of those and the water is getting too close for comfort. Shit’s bleak. Pidge has zero patience. And Lance still wants to go to sleep.

LOL this update had to be split up but it won’t be on ao3. part 4 coming soon ;)

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4

Waiting for death is infinitely easier to process and accept when the timer of the ticking clock comes in the form of filthy water lapping at your chest. Or at least one as slow and final as Shiro’s, that is.

And it’s funny because Takashi Shirogane has been prepared to die slowly for as long as he can remember. His illness made certain of it.

The reality that he wouldn’t get to grow old has always been there, the knowledge that he had a sooner expiration date than most was as innate to him as walking and breathing. He’d been resigned to this fate for a long time.

But then there was the wrench in absolutely everything that was Kerberos. And when it went wrong his mental timeline cataloguing just how many borrowed breaths remained got all screwy.

For a while he was certain the twenty or so years he might’ve been able to steal with a strict regimen of physical therapy and trial drugs was as good as gone. Because even if he did manage to escape captivity, the trauma on his body, the damage to his immune system, would have surely cut it clean in half.

But then Keith was there. And he keeps being there, he keeps saving him. It’s like clockwork at this point. The universe places a new target on his back and Keith pries it off. Again and again. As many times as it takes, he keeps telling him.

The stubborn idiot never was fazed by all the odds that loomed over Shiro’s head. They were never in his favor either, after all.

He can’t help but wonder if that kind of promise has an expiration date too, the kind that no one can help, like the ones Shiro has been sidestepping for years.

A promise of life, a promise of death. You can promise all you want, but words are still words and burning energy on hope just docked numbers from whatever time remained on Shiro’s life anyway.

He wasn’t opposed to letting others hope for him, though. Like Keith. And Adam. People have this sad habit of believing they can hope things into fruition, of maintaining that they had a choice in matters so very out of their hands.

It was fruitless, but if it helped them face his diagnosis, he wasn’t about to deprive them of that small mercy. Not when he was already asking so much by roping them in to see it through with him.

He decides that this is why he was incomprehensibly calm now. He isn’t sure he even has the capacity for hope with how fucked he was, with how fucked he always has been. And asides from being pissed that this was how the clock would finally run out—a few inches shy of air, a couple dozen feet below help, while Pidge and Lance watched—he wasn’t even that angry.

How can you be when you have the luxury of knowing exactly when you’d breathe your last breath? Of not having to guess anymore. Of getting to watch the progress of the rising water muddied with non-earth and debris without experiencing the terror you totally should be when it reaches your navel, your sternum, your chin.

Pidge felt it for all three of them.

He couldn’t prop himself up any farther. His arm was shaking violently under the weight of his upper body as it was, as he strained for another inch, for another minute.

“Take the damn pipe, or I’l kill you myself.”

But he was tiring and the time on his clock was swindling.

“Listen... t’Pidge, Sh’ro—“

“Lance? Stop talking,” Pidge gritted without dragging her eyes away from Shiro for even a second to scold a hardly compressible, hell hardly even conscious Lance.

“I am approximately ten ticks away from unhinging your jaw and shoving this down your throat.”

The edge in her tone was severe, her nerve unflinching.

“So I suggest you comply before we get to that point, I’d imagine it’d be pretty unpleasant.”

A flurry of conflicting emotions bubbled up hearing her speak like that, hearing Katie Gunderson speak like that, and to him no less.

God, he was so fucking proud of them. At how courageous they all were. It was quiet, subtle. Always downplayed and always unique to each of them. To each of their fears and weaknesses. It was always miraculous.

But it also always gutted him that they even had to be.

“Taskashi.”

“You have to keep his head up,” he sputtered, determined on getting out the last of his two sense before his mouth was fully submerged.

“His height will help him out for a while, but you have to make sure he stays on his back when the—“

“Shiro,” she leveled again, punctuating her disdain for his goddamned suggestions by shoving the pipe to his chest.

He was certain she would’ve clocked him over the head with it if she had the wingspan. That and a free hand, but she was already taking her good arm back to keep Lance from falling over.

“Stop. Talking.”

He didn’t have a choice whether or not to listen anymore. The water was too high and his flesh and blood arm was cramping.

The water tasted as filthy as it looked and so did the pipe. There was a faint copperiness to it, probably rust, or maybe blood from the jagged edges shredding his lips to shit where they wrapped around the base. He couldn’t be sure. It wouldn’t matter in a couple of minutes anyway.

They were all out of miracles, it seemed. The pipe was only a couple of feet long. It would buy him some time, sure, but it wasn’t a solution. It was just another extension with a fast approaching expiration date.

But he would hold out for Pidge, he would let her hope for him even though there was no point. He owed her that much.

Breathing through the stupid pipe was difficult for the first couple of breaths. He had to focus intently on not accidentally breathing through his nose, but the desperate straining of his lungs accelerated his learning curve and he soon fell into an even rhythm.

His helmet was still on but his visor was down. There wasn’t a need for even the topmost bit to be up when his chassis being as heavily compromised as it was meant the seal of his armor was no longer air tight. Not that he really needed to worry about being able to see anyway.

The viscosity of the water was more grain than sludge so visibility was almost nonexistent and keeping his eyes open for long hurt, the blue glow of their suits cutting through only enough to illuminate the vague silhouettes of Pidge and Lance with all the muck floating around in it.

He also couldn’t hear anything. There was the occasional whoosh of running water and gurgle as it poured, but everything was further muffled by the cover of his helmet.

Shiro was in the dark and he didn’t have a lot of time left. He’d never had a surplus of it, but he’d always had some sort of out. Something to stretch what was left. Someone to save him when the clock suddenly reset.

But now he had none of that.

Pidge could hope for him. She could be scared for him. She had been so strong for the three of them already. But it was futile in the end. It always was.

[mldrgrl]

Broken Things 17/24

by: mldrgrl Rating: varies by chapter, rated R overall See Chapter 1 for summary and notes

November approaches quickly.  The surveyor is due to arrive in only a handful of weeks.  The horses are coming along just fine with their training.  Mulder’s relationship with Katherine feels like it’s moving forward at a pleasant pace.  Just before the last weekend of the month, he asks her if he might accompany her into town that Friday.

“Of course,” she says.  “But, you don’t need to ask.”

“You might have plans with your friends and I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

“I would like to call on Susannah and Monica and Doctor Black, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t welcome to join me.”

“Then, I will accept your invitation.”

“My invitation?  You invited yourself.”

“Did I?”

Probably the only thing he finds more delightful than when she raises her eyebrow at him is when she rolls her eyes at him.

He asks if she’d like to attempt to drive the wagon into town, but she declines.  She feels that she’s only just mastered the carriage and has not had any wagon lessons yet.  She’s more than happy to have him drive them.

Their first stop is the mercantile.  Susannah rushes out to greet them and pulls Katherine inside by looping her arm through hers.

“We’ve got the prettiest new fabric in that will suit you so well,” she says.  “I’ve been hoping you’d come by and held it just for you.”

“John,” Mulder greets, as he enters the store.

“Mulder, what timing.  The denim trousers you ordered arrived just this week.”

“Thank you, I’ll take them now if you’ll wrap them.”

“Already done.”

“Katherine has our supply list, but it looks like your wife has absconded with her.”

“Yes, she’s been waiting for her to come in.”

“I’ll just take a look at the catalog in the meantime, I may have a few other things to order.”

“Certainly.”  John slides the thick book of merchandise across the counter to Mulder.  “We saw Melvin ride through town a few weeks ago and take Doctor Black back with him to the ranch.  Heard you had taken a tumble from a wagon.”

“Just a little shoulder damage.  That does remind me, if you have any liniment, I’ll take a couple tins off you.”

“We’ve got Sloan’s.  The oil.”

“That’s fine, two bottles.  No, make it three.  I’ll bring one to the Doc.”

“He said Katherine patched you right up and did about as good of job with it as he would’ve done.”

“I guess if I had to compare the two, I much prefer the bedside manner of my wife.”

Mulder chuckles as John blushes and fumbles with the bottles of liniment.  He’s saved from any further conversation of his shoulder when Katherine appears with Susannah and some bolts of cotton fabric with a blue paisley pattern.

“Kate, you have our list?” Mulder asks.

“Oh, yes.”  She opens the little drawstring bag at her wrist and gives John the paper.

“Now that Katherine’s taken over from Melvin, you don’t have to translate his hieroglyphics any longer.”

“Yes, lovely handwriting.”  John nods and then starts to collect items from the list, all business.

“I was just needling your wife about that Sunday dinner get-together we promised,” Susannah says.  “You be sure not to keep her so busy she can’t do some proper visiting.”

“She is more than free to ride out at any time to come calling, but it has been a bit hectic lately.”

“Oh, we heard about your fall.  Doctor Black said Katherine did all the doctoring for him and he didn’t lift a finger.”

“It was a mild concussion and a shoulder dislocation,” Katherine explains.  “Just required a re-set of the shoulder and a good deal of rest.”

“John, put in for five of these undershirts here on page 67.  Kate, is there anything you might want from Montgomery Ward?”

“I don’t know.”

“Take a gander and put in for whatever you find with John.  I’m going to head across the way to the lumber mill just for a few minutes.”

“Alright.”

Mulder leaves Katherine at the mercantile and goes across the road to the mill.  It’s a noisy place with a lot of sawing and yelling and hammering.  The smell of sawdust is everywhere.  The air is thick with it and Mulder can swear he feels it clinging to him as soon as he gets within five feet of the place.

“Mr. Hartwell,” he shouts, waving his hat to get the foreman’s attention.

Mr. Hartwell leaves the saw he’s working with stuck in the lumber he’s cutting and takes his gloves off to shake hands.  “Mr. Mulder, good to see you,” he says.

“I’m soon to be in need of some lumber.”

“Oh?”

“I took over Old Man Goodwin’s plot and I’ve got a surveyor coming out a little more than a week from now.  He’s supposed to get me some plans for a bigger barn, new stables, and we’ll be doing a new bunkhouse and expanding the house eventually.”

“Is that right?  When might you be needing your order?”

“I hope to break ground by winter.  At least on the corral.  I’ve been clearing trees on the property and we can recycle some of what we’ve already got.  You still have a record on the build on my current plot?”

“I reckon so.”

“Let’s start with that same amount.  I’m about to run down to the bank.  I’ll tell Mr. Skinner you’ll be giving him an estimate and he can advance anything you need and I’ll take what I can get by let’s say, mid-December?”

“Well alright then.”  Mr. Hartwell nods.

“I’ll also be in the market to hire labor, so if you have anyone in mind you can point my way, I’d be most grateful.”

“I’ll ask around.”

“Thank you.”

The two men shake hands again and Mulder heads back to the mercantile.  John Jr. is loading up the wagon with their purchases.  He gives Mulder a wave.

“How are things with your sweetheart?” Mulder asks, helping to load the last of the crates from the porch.

John Jr. sighs.  “She broke off with me a couple weeks ago.”

“Well, now, that’s a shame.”

“She said I was boring and then the next day she was holding hands with Luke Doggett.”

“That the Sheriff’s boy?”

“Yes, Sir.  I can’t even be mad over it because Luke’s a nice guy.”

“Be patient.  You’re a hard worker and you’re not boring at all, you’re stable, like your father.  You’ll find a great girl one day that’ll appreciate that.”

“Naw, I think I’m done with girls for awhile.  I’m gonna save up and get a horse.”

“Well, horses are good too.  When you’re ready to buy, you come see me.  I’ll give you a good deal.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Mulder chuckles to himself as he walks away from John Jr. and goes back into the mercantile.  Katherine gives him a smile that makes him want to wrap his arms around her.  He puts his hand at the small of her back instead.

“Ready?” he asks.

Katherine and Susannah say their goodbyes.  Mulder helps his wife up into the wagon seat and then they head to the bank.  He leaves Katherine at the line to the teller’s window and waves to Skinner who motions him into the office.

“I wanted to let you know that we’re moving forward on the expansion,” Mulder tells him.  “Mr. Hartwell should be coming by with an estimate for lumber.  I told him to speak with you and you’d arrange to advance him anything he might need.”

“I can do that.”

“I also, uh…”  Mulder turns his hat over in his hands for a few moments and then he glances out into the foyer of the bank before he shuts the door to Skinner’s office for a bit of privacy.  “If you can get word to my lawyers through the branch in Fort Worth that I’d like to update my will, I would appreciate it.”

“Certainly, if that’s what you want.”

“I’m sure I’ll need an update of my account holdings, so whatever they need they can have time to put it together.”

“What brought this on, if I may ask?”

“Had a fall from a wagon a few weeks ago.  Nothing drastic, mind you, it just got me thinking and I’d like to make sure that if...well, if anything should happen, there’s no question of what my wishes are.”

“Your wife would be protected, by law.”

“Not well enough.  I want to make damn sure the ranch will stay with her, and I want to make sure Melvin will be taken care of as well.”

“I’ll get word and if anything comes back from your lawyers, I will let you know.”

“Thank you.”

“Does she even know?  Who she really married?  How much you’re worth?”

“No.”

“You might want to tell her sometime.”

“When the time is right.”

↭

Katherine feels more confident this time when she pays the mortgage.  The teller is polite, calls her Mrs. Mulder, slides the card to her that she needs to sign with a fountain pen and she doesn’t hesitate this time to write Katherine Mulder next to the date.

She’s finished before Mulder is done speaking with Mr. Skinner, so she waits for him outside by the wagon.  She’s never really gotten a good look at the town before.  The row of businesses stretches long and wide.  If the bank is the end point, the mercantile is the start.  In between there’s a sawmill, a blacksmith, the saloon, an icehouse, a cafe, a flour mill, a bath house, a meeting house, the sheriff’s office, a barber, a boarding house, a livery, a laundry, and the house of ill repute, as Mulder referred to it.

She knows there’s a church somewhere and a school, but they must be hidden in the outskirts of the town.  Doctor Black must have his practice somewhere off the main road as well.  Monica had said she lives off the road that veers left from the bank and she wonders how many other homes are out there and where everyone lives.  The Byers may make their home as part of their store, but presumably Mr. Skinner does not sleep in the bank.  And she remembers that Susannah said he had a wife.

Mulder comes outside and stands next to her.  “When I first got here about the only things that existed were the mercantile and the saloon,” he says.  “Sometimes it seems like all this just sprang up overnight.”

“Susannah was telling me today that a Wells Fargo office is coming in next year.”

“Long overdue for that, if you ask me.  Nearest place to send a telegram is either Abilene or Fort Worth, depending on where you’re at.”

“How many folks live here?”

“I can’t say I know for sure.  If I were to wager a guess, maybe fifty or so in town.  There’s a lot of ranches around these parts that do their business here, so if you consider them to be part of the town, there’s got to be at least another hundred.”

“It’s strange, but I grew up in a city of twenty thousand people and it always felt very small to me.  But, standing here, on a street you can probably walk up and back in a quarter of an hour, it feels enormous.”

“Well, they say everything is bigger in Texas.”

“I have heard that.”

“Where to now, fair Kate?”

“Where does the Doctor live?”

“Up that way behind the boardinghouse.”

“I’d like to drop in on Monica first then, since the Doc is on the way back.”

Katherine takes Mulder’s hand to climb into the wagon and he drives them down the road, over a short bridge, and then past a grove of trees.  A house appears as soon as they clear the trees, like an island in a sea of bluebonnets.

“Goodness,” Katherine says.  “Monica said you can’t miss it.”

The rumble of the wagon must have alerted her friend.  Monica comes out to the porch, wiping her hands on a dishrag.  She waves and jumps down the steps to greet them as they come down the lane.

“I hope you don’t mind us dropping in,” Katherine says as she climbs down from the wagon.  “We were in town so I wanted to say hello.”

“Are you kidding?  I’m thrilled.”  Monica hugs Katherine hard and keeps an arm around her shoulders as she waves to Mulder.  “I’ve got cornbread in the oven that’ll be done soon.  You’ll stay and have a cut before I bring dinner out to John, won’t you?”

“Well, that sounds too good to pass up,” Mulder answers.

“Come on in.”

The Doggett residence is similar to the ranch house.  There’s a dogtrot that runs from the front to the back, but the left side of the house is all kitchen and dining area, presumably bedrooms are on the right.  Monica offers them chairs at the table and then checks on the cornbread.  Mulder holds a chair out for Katherine as she loosens her hat and removes her gloves, but he doesn’t sit down right away.  He moves over to a breakfront along the wall and runs his hand over the smooth wood.

“This is a beauty,” he says.

“My boy built that,” Monica answers, proudly.

“The Sheriff did this?”

“No, our son Luke.  I swear he was swinging a hammer before he could toddle.”

Mulder nods and continues to run his hand down the side and across the front.  “How old might Luke be?”

“Fifteen.  Just had a birthday on the 13th of October.”

“That’s funny, we have the same birthday.”

“Your birthday was the 13th?” Katherine asks.  She’s mildly embarrassed that she had no idea her own husband’s birthday had passed.

“I didn’t even remember myself until just now.”

“What year were you born?” Monica asks.

“1861.”

Monica closes her eyes and tilts her head for a few moments.  “You’re a three,” she says, with a brief nod.

“A three?”

“Yes, in numerology.  Your life path number is a three.  It means you like to inspire others and make them smile.  But, if you feel you’ve been misinterpreted you can become sullen and withdrawn.”

“Is that right?”  Mulder grins as he looks at Katherine and she raises her eyebrow.  “But, I thought I was blue and red.  Now I’m a number?”

“Oh, you told him about his aura?”  Monica beams.

“I um…”  Katherine can feel the heat rising to her cheeks as though she were caught gossipping.  Mulder must sense her discomfort for he finally sits down beside her and takes her hand before hanging his hat on his bent knee.

“One day I’d like to hear all about it,” he says, squeezing Katherine’s hand.  “I was just wondering though, Mrs. Doggett-”

“Oh, call me Monica, please.”

“Monica, that’s really high quality work your boy does.  How would you feel about letting him come out this winter and work on an expansion out at my ranch?  I’d pay him, of course.”

“I’d have to speak with my husband about it, but I’m sure Luke would be thrilled at the prospect.  He’s been at us to quit school for the last few years.”

“Oh, but he can’t quit school,” Katherine says.

“Well, most of the kids around here quit by the age of twelve.  They’re needed at their farms or ranches.  Luke’s been the oldest in the schoolhouse for the last two years and he’s been pretty anxious to move on.  John wouldn’t let him since we don’t have a farm and he’s certainly not going to allow his son to take on a job at the saloon, which is about the only place that’d hire a boy his age.”

“I’m going to be looking to hire quite a few men starting next month or so,” Mulder says.  “There’s plenty of room in the bunkhouse for him and I’ll see to it he comes home for the week’s end.  Your husband is welcome to ride out any time to check in.”

“I would keep my eye on him as well, if you’re at all concerned about that,” Katherine adds.

“Oh.”  Monica puts her hand on Katherine’s arm and smiles.  “I don’t doubt that.  My, what a lovely ring!”

“Thank you.”  Katherine runs her thumb along the side of her ring band with her thumb.  “My husband got it for me.”

They spend the next half of an hour with Monica Doggett, sharing a slice of cornbread and chatting amicably.  Mulder asks her more about this numerology thing and she happily shares with him more about his life path based on his birth date.  When it’s time for them to take their leave, Mulder offers to drive Monica to the Sheriff’s office, but she says she would much rather walk.  It’s just about her only time to herself and she enjoys it.

They ride back up into town and Mulder passes the bank to go down a smaller road behind the north side of the town.  He points out a house up the ways with a sign hanging at the front that simply says ‘DOC’ etched in wood.

For some reason, Katherine feels nervous on the way up to the doctor’s porch.  She knows she already made a good impression on the doctor, but still wonders if that was just politeness.  The doctors she knew from nurse’s training were mercurial.  Someone bearing a compliment one day could come bearing condescension the next, or worse.  

Mulder opens the door to usher her inside.  Doctor Black peeks out from behind a curtain and smiles broadly.

“Just my luck,” the doctor says.  “I’ve just set a broken bone and could surely use your assistance while I mix a plaster.”

“Of course,” Katherine says.  She immediately takes her gloves off and hands them to Mulder.  

There’s a young boy perched at the edge of the exam table, no more than five or six, sniffling and sullen.  Katherine moves to him and right away she can see that his left wrist is broken.  She smiles at him and takes a gentle hold on his arm, cradling his wrist in her hands so the doctor can get to work on mixing a plaster.

“My name is Katherine,” she says to the boy.  “Who might you be?”

“Joey Skinner.”

“Is Walter Skinner your father, son?” Mulder asks.  

Joey nods and then wipes his nose with the back of his good hand.

“Has anyone gone to fetch Mr. Skinner?” Mulder asks Doctor Black.  “I could run over to the bank right now.”

“Yes, why don’t you do that.”  Doctor Black nods to Mulder and then hands Katherine a roll of gauze.  “I trust you can wrap up that wrist.”

“Certainly.”  She deftly holds Joey’s arm with one hand and uses her thumb to pin the edge of the gauze down and begins to wrap.  “Joey, you tell me if this hurts, okay?”

“Okay.”

“So, how did this happen?”

“I was playing tag with Grace and Emma and Isaac and I was ‘It’ and I was running and I tripped on a rock and I felled down and my hand hurted real bad.  Grace yelled for Miss Holly and Miss Holly bringed me to the doc.”

“Well, I think you’re a very brave boy and we’ll have you fixed up in no time.”

“Now,” Doctor Black says, rolling a small table over with a bowl of milky liquid and wrappings.  “Joey, this might feel a little cold, but you do your best to hold still, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Excellent wrapping,” the doctor tells Katherine.  “Would you like to do the plaster?”

Katherine nods and the doctor moves the table to her side so she can work.  She runs the wrapping through the liquid and winds it around Joey’s small wrist and arm, moving methodically.  She has experience with setting and wrapping broken bones, but never on a child.  She’s cautious, but tries to be quick for Joey’s sake.  Doctor Black provides her with a few short instructions as she goes.

“Beautiful work,” Doctor Black says when Katherine is wiping her hands dry.  “Joey, is there any pain in your wrist now or in your arm.”

“It’s kinda itchy.”

“Yes, it might be, but you can’t scratch right now, I’m sorry.  We’re going to let it dry and when it’s done it’ll be hard as a rock and keep your wrist in place so it can heal.”

Joey’s bottom lip begins to tremble.  “Is it gonna be on my arm forever and ever?”

Katherine puts her arm around Joey and rubs his shoulder.  “Not forever, sweetheart, just a few weeks is all.  And the doctor will probably check on it a time or two to make sure it’s healing properly.”

“That’s right,” Doctor Black says.

“Joey!?  Joey!?”  Walter Skinner bursts through the door with Mulder behind him.

“Hi, Daddy.”

“Joey.”  Mr. Skinner rushes over and for a moment, Katherine is afraid he’s going to grab the boy up in a fit of panic before the cast sets.  

“Everything’s alright,” Katherine says.

“What happened, son?”

“I was playing tag…”

As soon as Joey starts up with his story again, Katherine slips away from the exam table to go to Mulder.  “He okay?” Mulder asks.

“It wasn’t a bad break.”

“Good.”  He pulls Katherine’s gloves from his pocket and hands them to her.

Doctor Black comes up to the two of them and he and Mulder shake hands.  Mulder gives him the extra bottle of liniment he bought at the mercantile and the doctor thanks him.

“Looks as though your shoulder’s healed nicely,” Doctor Black says.

“Yes, well, I happened to have a very strict nursemaid to see me through.”  Mulder chuckles and Katherine demurs a little.

“If you think you could spare your wife for a few days a month, I’d be happy to have the help here.”

“Oh, I really couldn’t,” Katherine answers.

“Why couldn’t you?” Mulder asks.

“Well, there’s just so much to do.  And the expansion is coming up, so…”

“I’m sure we can work something out.”  Mulder nods to the doctor and at Katherine.  “Good skills should never go to waste.”

Katherine is all but rendered speechless.  She doesn’t know if she’s shocked or grateful or why she should even be so surprised.  Mulder’s the only man she’s ever known that doesn’t seem to want to control her in some way, who seems to want her to have independence as much as she wants it.  And she doesn’t just think he’s putting on airs of a generous husband in front of the doctor.  She believes that he means what he says.

“We’ll talk it over,” she says.

“Joey.”  Mulder produces a quarter and walks over and hands it to the boy.  “Next time you’re in the Byers mercantile, you tell Mr. Byers you want a bag of his best penny candy.”

“Gee, thank you, Sir!”

After they leave the doctor’s place and get back into the wagon, Katherine sits close to Mulder and holds his arm as he drives.  “Did you know Mr. Skinner had a boy?” she asks.

“Hell, until a few weeks ago, I didn’t even know he had a wife.  He doesn’t talk much.”

“I think that minor panic may have caused him to lose what little hair he’s got left.”

Mulder roars with laughter.

[jamestrmtx]

Fairytale Complex - [Undertale | Sans x Reader]

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

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

Song Referenced

+

Temmiefied Version

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

• • •

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

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

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

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

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

Thankfully, she sounds happy.

Still, a correction's deemed necessary.

“What do you mean, Brenda?”

“Auntie Brenda, mind you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He, what?”

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

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

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

“He does?!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure. See you then.”

“Farewell, dear!”

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

• • •

Breathe in, breathe out.

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

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

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

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

Breathe in, breathe out.

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

Breathe in, breathe-

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

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

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

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

"Excuse me, (L/N), but…"

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

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

Breathe in, breathe out.

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

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

"It's…"

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

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

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

"About that…"

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

"...Why did you call me?"

"It's about Frisk, but it ain't an emergency or anythin' -- it's good news, actually."

"Then why did y-"

"Listen, I don't mean to be harsh or nosy, but you sound awful right now. I can give you all the answers you need later, but could ya tell me what's wrong?"

You heave a small breath and look at the time, along with the hour of his missed call. He made it around eleven minutes past the end of your shift, so it wasn't exactly interrupting your job, but you're not sure how to interpret his call and the fact it was his first occasion calling you so close to your work schedule. Even if you were overthinking it, you didn't want to overlook anything, either. And then again, the state you're in isn't really the best for you to be questioning every little thing about your relationship with him -- at the moment, of course. "I feel sick. Kind of similar to that day at the hospital." You decide to be earnest, regardless of how dry your throat feels and how fast your heart goes. "I, well…"

"Want me to pick you up?"

Your ears turn hot while your hands do the opposite. "Y- Yeah…" Your chest tightens and your words grow faint, until you continue with, "I need your help, teddy bear."

"Teddy bear?" he asks, chuckling.

"You're calling me puddin' now, aren't you? You're a teddy bear in my eyes, then."

"I wonder why."

You smile.

"...See you in a bit?"

"'Course. I should be there in ten minutes max."

"Thank you."

With that, you say your farewells and hang up.

Now left to wait, you put your phone away, pick up the rest of your belongings, and stay with the company of your two co-workers as you make it to the exit. Your boss is still waiting next to it, yet she steps aside as do other people standing nearby, providing you with space to pass by. She says nothing, so you stop for a second, only to have her nod for you to carry on walking.

"Come to my office as soon as you recover, (L/N)."

That's the only thing she says as the door closes, leaving you with one co-worker by your left and the other by your right, both waiting in case you were to fall over again.

Breathe in, breathe out.

[First] | [Previous] | [Next]

• • •

Small but Important™ Q&A regarding healthcare and whether it's American-based or not

To clarify for everyone else possibly having that same doubt, based on a question made by a reader in terms of Chapter Six and Seven's events:

All healthcare/medical attention mentioned in this story is based off my country, meaning it's either free or at the very least, affordable enough that you don't have to choose between an Uber or an overpriced weewoo vehicle in case of a medical emergency.

For example: I pay only $10 for 4 different medicines I'm meant to take, 3 which are for a lifetime (example: thyroiditis), and the only thing my insurance doesn't cover is optometry, which is around $300 to $500 a year for a full exam and prescription!

Tl;dr: It isn't. There's no debt here so far, lol.

• • •

Tag List (Comment or message me if you want to be added to [or removed from] it!)

@the-simp-express

@nektotersh

@disastrous-l0vebug

@therealchickenjoe

@mintyflakes025

@pandaquick

@timelock97

@candle-creeps

@paperb9gs

@merak0

[shhhlikeme]

“Losty Aone” / “Losty Mountain Man🏔” Series:

Outtake Collection #12:

———————————

A/N: I miss you guys so much! Thank you for over 150 notes on my last outtake 🤯! If you haven’t read my life update already, please do and know that it’s hard for me to prioritize school and work before this blog. This outtake collection was originally supposed to be a multiple posting like the previous ones, but I reckon I was taking too long and thought to just post at least the part that was complete. Love y’all

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Songs for this outtake:

———————————

8 Days After The Breakup ⛓🥀

💤 😴 💤

“Leave her be. She’s having fun.”

Aone watched as the class-snitch Tsume Lian handed in his paper and hurriedly left the classroom.

I didn’t mean to scare him, thought Mountain Man. He shrugged it off, looking down to concentrate on his own assignment, going through the questions easily. I only have 3 left now, and the answers are fairly simple because-

“Hi! Thanks so much for defending me a little while ago!”

An angelic voice startled Aone out of his academic train of thought. As soon as the sound vibrations reached his ear drums all the nerves in Aone’s body stood at attention.

Is that......?! he questioned, but received his answer when he felt the magnetic pull to the voice as he always did—his eyes having a mind of their own and following the sound. Aone felt his heart halt when he lifted his head from his paper to be graced with something much, much, more beautiful. His crush, you, were standing next to him. Aone’s entire body and brain went out of commission when he looked up to see you, standing so close he could feel your body heat, your beautiful manicured hands pressed on his desk. Your grateful eyes were staring into his for quite possibly the first time in his entire life.

The eyes he dreams about.

Your Apple scent invaded his nostrils and Aone breathed in as deeply as he could subconsciously. He never wanted to smell anything else.

The scent that he dreams about.

You reached over to touch Aone’s arm in his uniform, shooting him an endearing smile. Aone’s eyes widened. Y/N IS TOUCHING ME, he thought. His heart tightened and he really thought he was at risk for a heart attack. The only thing that kept him from having that heart attack, in fact, was seeing you smile a second later. He wouldn’t be graced with that smile if he fainted now🥵. To Aone, when you smiled, oh god, when you smiled—You weren’t just beautiful like he always found you: you were unreal. It was your smile on top of the cheerleading pyramid that made him initially lock onto you, and it was your smile with your friends at school that made Mountain Man stop in his tracks every time just to take it in. It is captivating.

Aone couldn’t help but stare at your lips when the vibrations of your melodic cheerful voice reached his ears again.

“I’m Y/N! It’s nice to meet you!”

Nice to.....? What? Losty Aone connected the dots a bit, realizing that you were introducing yourself to him. He wanted to laugh. It is almost a comical quiet-boy-meets-his-crush scene, right? The fact that the female he spends most of his day thinking about, the female outside of the Takanobu’s that he probably knows most about, the female that he has spent the better part of the last two years pining after, was introducing herself—that she deemed it necessary to make him aware of who she is—is comical.

Dark Comedy.

Honestly, Aone couldn’t even stop for too long to feel bad for how pathetic this seemed for him: as he was too busy basking in your light. Whether you were introducing yourself or reciting the Arabic alphabet to him— he’d want to hear you over and over, no matter what, unable to think of anything else he’d want more.

Aone wanted to say something back to you, he obviously did. But he was just too in shock that the girl he wishes he could marry, the girl that is so completely out of his league that she doesn’t even notice his existence, is speaking him unexpectedly. It was like a dream. Aone’s throat was drier than the Sahara desert.

It was TOO MUCH. Your simple greeting made him TOO HAPPY—he was unable to respond.

Aone felt severe loss of sweet tingling skin nerves when you removed your hand from his burning arm. If he was thinking clearly he might have pouted. He mentally kicked himself for being too star-struck by you to dedicate one part of his mind to memorize what it felt like to have you touch him.

“Sorry.”

You said shyly, gifting Aone’s eardrums again. You looked down sheepishly, then met his serious expression again, appearing God-sent with the thankful expression you gave him. If Aone could speak, he would bloody PROPOSE.

“Um....”

Still frozen, Aone couldn’t tear his eyes away from you as you spoke.

“You probably don’t know this but you getting that pervert to leave me alone is quite possibly the sweetest thing anyone has done for me. And you did it for a stranger, no less. And ummm.........”

You tucked your hair cutely behind your ear, obviously wanting to say something else. Aone was eager to hear it. He loved hearing your voice! After all, witnessing your usually bubbly cheerleader-self so demure and cute-looking made his heart skip a beat. Or dozens of beats. All he could think of when he watched you was:

She’s Unreal.

She’s Perfect.

She’s a Dream.

Long shot, but she’s my desired Future wife.

He wanted to beg you to keep speaking. Your voice was his favourite sound... it has been ever since he first heard it.

“Ummmm........ also I wanted to say.....”

Aone put an effort to mentally block out all the white noise of the chatty classroom so that he could hear your beautiful voice more clearly. He wanted to remember this. He wanted to memorize every second of this, since you approaching his desk has unpredictably turned today in to one of the best days of his life. Please keep talking to me Y/N. Please.

Aone’s heart tightened again as your expressive eyes pierced into his serious ones. You took a deep breath before saying what you wanted to say next.

......Yes? Aone wish he could say. You can tell me anything, Y/N.

“....and.....”

you pushed on, leaning in closer so that Aone had an even clearer close up of your gorgeous face and your scent was even stronger. Yep, absolutely the best day of my life.

And......? Aone wanted to hurry you, but then he saw you opening your mouth:

“And do you mind not doing that again? It’s obvious you have a really intense crush on me obviously—but I don’t feel the same way. I don’t even know who you are. It’ll never work out in the long run because I’m in this league and you’re...in that one.”

Aone hearing what you said was like a knife—no, A SWORD stabbing through his heart. He literally felt wounded. He looked at his beautiful crush—still putting you first even in a state of pain like this— feeling terrible for making you uncomfortable due to his romantic hopes.

“I’m s-sorry, Y/N...” Aone was about to stutter out,

💤😴💤

But his eyes opened before then, kicking him out of his dream.

Takanobu’s heart ached as he stared up at his bedroom ceiling in the dark. Aone checked with his hand to make sure that he really hadn’t been stabbed through the chest, because that’s what he felt right now. Breathing heavily through his nose when he felt his actual hard chest there like normal, he wondered how the pain there could be so insufferable then?

Takanobu hasn’t been able to avoid these terrible dreams since several nights ago, when you had broken up with him on the Ferris wheel. He knows you are not as cruel as you are in his dreams but his depressive state of mind obviously only knows how to make him feel worse about everything. He doesn’t really remember much after you had called him your friend in the Ferris Wheel lot; shattering what was left of his heart by that word combined with walking away. Though, he does remember hearing his mom at dinner 2 nights ago talking to him about how it was Futakuchi who had to come get him, but he wasn’t sure.

To be honest, ever since the night on the Ferris Wheel, Aone has become a shell of a man that lost a lot of care for things he used to care about.

He can’t recall what his mom said at dinner or what Kenji said in the car or what really happened the days after you decided to leave him: The only feeling he could register is the overbearing heavy feeling in his heart. The only thing that captured his attention is the aching in his chest. The sound of his heart’s continuous shattering whenever he thought of you was louder than any words he heard and the all encompassing gnawing of heartache, was more tangible than anything else he could possibly feel.

If Aone had to describe in words how he has felt since that moment 🎡 (but he wouldn’t because he has subconsciously retreated back to his mute lifestyle), he would say his heart feels like it is encompassed by the heaviest chains known to man with an anchor on the end, hanging low and weighing down his whole heart.

If that wasn’t bad enough, whenever you crossed his mind, the chains would tighten and squeeze his heart. Therefore, since you basically never left his mind, that means his heart is continuously being squeezed by hefty anchorage. It is an awful feeling to say the least.

Sitting up on the side of his bed, Aone checked his phone for the time and date.

8 days since the anniversary...? He stated to himself.

Had I attended school in between? He doesn’t even remember.

All that was clearly registered is the feeling of loss.

Aone sighed. Must have, because knowing Futakuchi, he likely wouldn’t let him skip. Aone can now recall going to school and not seeing you there....no wonder it’s deemed insignificant in his brain.

When Mountain Man had gotten too worried about your absence on the second day and was about to check on you, his friends had asked your friends, discovering that you were currently sick and on bed rest.

Mountain Man felt terrible. You probably got ill from walking in the snow after the Ferris Wheel ride. If he hadn’t brought you there you wouldn’t be sick. You’d only had on a thin jacket that night...

Should I text Y/N? Ask her if there’s anything I can bring her so she can feel better? What would Futakuchi say?

‘ABSOLUTELY THE FUCK NOT.‘ Is what he would say, Aone thought, practically able to hear his friend’s voice.

In bed, Mountain Man sighed. Even if he did text you, you didn’t want to hear from him anymore. That’s the purpose of a breakup, no matter how much it gutted him. You were entitled to your space.

Through impenetrable mental torment, Aone rubbed his eyes and peeped at the time. While Aone would describe himself as a militant person, who always wakes up on time for school, leaves his house on time for everything; practically the most dependable human, and was very orderly his entire life—things have changed drastically as of 8 days ago. Not that he cared since time wasn’t really something he could focus on, but Aone now awoke several times a night, walked in late to class and cancelled his attendance to any and all social events he was going to go to.

He and Futakuchi were supposed to help Karasuno with blocking yesterday, but Aone just went straight home. He hasn’t even seen his friends for quite some time....or maybe he has, but the memory isn’t registering.

Broken-hearted Mountain Man would just avoid everyone in class (staring out of the window, looking incredibly unapproachable), and outside of class: opting to eat lunch alone (and by eating, it means just toying with whatever he was going to eat). Every lunch hour, this depresssed polar bear would find some corner outdoors to sit by himself: Sometimes it was at the bus stop down the street from the school where he’d sit and watch the passerbyers, his gaze staying a bit longer on the couples that passed by, wishing you still wanted that with him. Yesterday, he found a spot under a big tree and counted the grass patches. Even though you weren’t at school, as soon as the Date Teko cheerleaders came outside to practice a bit for the snowboarding team, Aone picked up his stuff and finished his lunch in an empty classroom...

6:38am.

So Aone had over 20 minutes till he needed to get up and get ready for school.

Usually, this white-haired man would use that time to do something productive: either review his homework, try to make breakfast for his mom or dad, read a book to his turtle, research new volleyball drills to help his team.............

But this morning was different. Of course it was. In the extra time he had this morning, all Aone could do in these minutes is sit up, propping his elbows on his knees and cradle his head in his hands, willing his heart to stop hurting so much. He had zero tears to cry, he isn’t a crier but they were probably all out after the first night that he tear stained his pillow...... So instead of crying, now Aone just spent his extra time in this position, thinking about you—the greatest girl he would ever know—and how he failed to make you happy enough that you’d choose to stay with him.

Aone:

He has no idea why he got his hopes up. Why did he think someone like you would want him? Of course you’d come to your senses eventually.

Faded beautiful black and white images of your moments together flashed through his depressed mind like a movie reel: triggering his heart to weigh his body down even more:

He saw you playing with Perdu on the floor of his room, trying to teach the reptile how to fetch.

He saw you cling onto his arm and hide your face in his shoulder when a jump scare hit the screen at the movie theatre.

In slow motion, He saw you waving and smiling at the supporters in the bleachers as you were cheerleading with your teammates, looking breathtaking

He saw you giving his best friends the middle finger and sticking your tongue out at them because they were teasing him

He saw you throw your head back and laugh as you sat next to him at the lunch table, leaning on him for support because you were laughing so hard

He saw you flip your hair back as you actually listening to his tutoring in his room... then he saw your face brighten, clapping when he told you your answer was correct

He saw you—

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

The sound of Aone’s weekday alarm jolted him out of his heart wrenching slideshow... He rubbed his temples for a moment in his dark room before turning the alarm off. He stood up slowly and took a deep breath before forcing himself to go through the motions again— slipping on his house slippers and making his way to his bathroom. He flicked on the bathroom light and Aone dared to look at himself briefly in the mirror: though what greeted his eyes made him instinctively turn the fucking light off.

Pathetic, anguished Mountain thought.

I look even scarier now. He tore his eyes away from the mirror display of his tired eyes and overall broken demeanour.

No wonder Y/N doesn’t want me.

Hearing your name in his mind for the first time since he had promised himself he wouldn’t mention it, sent a wave of immense devastation through this man’s entire body. It was so strong it caused this middle blocker to hang his head and use both strong hands to grip his bathroom counter so he wouldn’t collapse under the metaphorical pain in his chest.

He never knew it was possible to feel such emotional pain so physically.

He deliberated staying home, but that would worry his parents and friends even more, which is the last thing he wanted.

It’s almost the end of the week. Just keep getting ready for school, he told himself. It is only 4 hours until lunch, when you can be alone again.

Aone brushed his teeth while sitting on the edge of his bathtub, finding it easier to avoid his reflection in the mirror this way. He spat and rinsed, then reached for his floss, but realized it was empty.

Sighing, baby boy dragged his feet from his ensuite to one of his house’s main bathrooms where his mom left the extra toiletries.

Aone began flossing in his quiet bathroom. He heard the faint sound of the front door closing and locking since his mother usually left for work at this time. Takanobu finished flossing and washed his hands. He took a few floss containers and exited the main bathroom, shutting off the light and briskly turning the corner—before running right into another man.

“Shit!” The other voice yelled as their body fell backwards from the impact.

Completely startled because he thought he was home alone, Aone’s eyes widened but his fast reflexes caught the man’s arm before he fell to the ground. Aone’s eyes went back to normal realizing who he caught.

“Dude! Are you a fucking ghost?! You make zero sound when you walk around the house! How is that even possible for a man your size!?!”

Takanobu looked down at his best friend dressed in pyjamas like: ⁉️

Not uttering a word, he gave Kenji a monotone look as to say: What are you doing here?

Kenji—understanding his best friend without him needing to use words like he always did, answered him.

“What am I doing here?” Kenji chuckled. “Well, it’s been days and you won’t answer my texts or calls, big guy! I have no idea where you go during lunch, it’s cold as shit outside and we spend the entire time looking for you.... and then you go straight home when the last bell rings! You seem dead at school: like a zombie. So fuck, you forced my lazy ass to get creative. 💥 Boom. Now I’m here. Your mom said I can move in stay for the time being, basically. I’m sleeping in the first guest room and—“

Aone turned on his heels to peek into the first guest room beside the bathroom. Sure enough, he saw one big suitcase Futakuchi had used when he had come on a vacation with his dads side 4 years ago.

Aone turned back to his friend, grunting as if to say: 🤨 this is a lot....

“—No, it is not a lot. I’m worried about my best friend, man. Either way, I’m not asking you permission.” Kenji crosses his arms in response to his friend’s silent communication. “I told you it’s me and you.”

Aone frowned at his friend. He was pretty astonished by everything Kenji just said. First, Kenji is right about his own self analysis: Kenji is lazy. Which made this all the more alarming, because was Aone really that bad that his best friend felt obligated to move in temporarily?! Futakuchi was always welcome here and stayed over often, but nothing this drastic.

Second, Aone knew he was possibly moving around like a shell of a man—that’s why he avoided people unless it was in class regarding group work—but to be described as a zombie by his brutally honest friend? Ouch. What would Y/N think? Aone doubted you would regret dumping a guy like that if you were in good health and saw him at school.

Hearing your name again in his mind; Aone’s heart panged.

Takanobu’s gaze fell and shoulders sunk and Futakuchi noticed the drop. He knew his middle blocker was going through it like crazy.... and it made him sick. Kenji knew right then and there that he was right to come here.

“I know you don’t want to talk about her, Aone-san. We don’t have to until you’re ready. But I’m here, alright? Just two doors down when you want advice or you just want to watch a movie or play some volleyball. Okay?”

Still looking at his turtle slippers, Aone nodded. In his state, he couldn’t help but feel a bit better because his best friend cared so much about him.

Just then, Aone felt a sharp slap on his back that couldn’t have come from Kenji and an excited voice next to his ear.

“MORNING!!!!!! WHERE CAN I FIND THE FLOSS— OH! BOTH OF YOU ARE AWAKE!”

Koganegawa‘s eyes were barely open as he joined the two boys in the hallway, yawning in the midst of his loud greeting.

Startled that Kogane was in his house too, Aone gave him the same alarmed expression he’d initially given Futakuchi.

Kanji looked confused, so he nudged Futakuchi. “I’m not as good as you yet, dad. What does that look on Aone-senpai mean?” He asked, stretching his arms in fatigue.

In response, Kenji reached up to pinch his ear, yanking it down.

“OI! ITAI!” The setter cried.

Kenji spoke calmly.

“Takanobu-san is wondering what you’re doing here. And I’m wondering why you’re so loud in the mornings!!” Futakuchi let go and Kogane rubbed his now red ear, fully awake now. He glared at Kenji for a moment😡before his eyes met the middle blocker’s and softened.

“Hey, Mom. That abusive parent 👈🏻 mentioned something about staying here for a few days or weeks, and I begged him to let me come. I worry about you, too, you’re like a big brother to me, and I’m here for you just as much as he is.” Kanji smiled brightly at his older friend.

For the first time since you’d broken up with him, Aone felt his heart tighten for a different reason other than heartache. For one brief moment, Aone felt a few links in the heavy chain wrapped around his heart fall off. Albeit minimally, his friend’s endearing actions made him feel lighter.

————————————

Outtake #13: CLICK HERE

Sneak Preview of the next dramatic Outtakes:

A pissed off Kenji Futakuchi confronts Y/N upon your return to school 👁👄👁

Aone and Y/N must work together for a school project....... 💔 awkward, or an opportunity? The answer may surprise you.

Taglist: @crushzone @galagcica @chaichai-the-weeb @nairobiisqueen @bisasterrr @juminly @simply-not-the-same

[freddiesaysalright]

A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes - Chapter 2

Gwilym!Prince Charming x Reader

Summary: After losing your parents, your step-family makes your life impossible. That is, until Prince Gwilym holds a ball. It’s your one chance for everything to change.

Word Count: 3.2k

Tag List: @psychosupernatural​, @someone-get-a-medic​, @bensrhapsody​, @deakyclicks​, @crazylittlethingcalledobsession​, @minigranger​, @crazyweirdocalledfriday​, @the-moving-finger-writes​, @assembledherethevolunteers​, @rose-writes-prose​, @queenlover05​, @26-7-49​, @drowsebaby, @im-an-adult-ish​, @queen-paladin​, @rogerina-owns-me, @mirkwoodshewolf​, @namelesslosers​, @headl0ng​, @captvianswaan, @xviiarez​, @baltimoresweethearts​, @killer-queen-87​, @haileymoreolikestupid, @itsametaphorgwil​ If you’d like to be added, let me know!

A/N: Once again, I apologize this update took so long. As y’all know, I’ve been going through it with my break up and sad. But! My motivation has returned enough for me to continue and I hope y’all enjoy!

Warning(s): None!

Moodboard

Prologue  Chapter 1

Chapter 2 here we go!!!

No one else seemed to notice him walk in, but to you, it was as if time had stopped. He started toward a table, moving in slow motion, followed by two other men apparently in his class, and he took a seat at a corner table. You were frozen to the spot as you watched him. 

“Earth to Y/N,” Zelda snapped. “Are you going to just stand there or go greet our customers?”

“Right, sorry,” you said, shaking your head to pull yourself out of the reverie.

“And turn on the charm,” she instructed under her breath. “Those men have clearly got money.” 

You straightened yourself and headed over. You began to hear their conversation as you approached. 

“So, your father didn’t say what it is he has?” questioned the blonde one to Gwilym’s left. 

“No,” Gwilym said with a shake of his head. “Just that he’s ill. He really didn’t talk about it.” 

“I’m sorry to hear that,” said the dark-haired one across from Gwilym. “Your father is a good man. You’re lucky you still have him to guide you.”

“I’m more than ready to take on my role,” Gwilym said. “It’s just all this marriage talk that’s got me worried. Say I do marry and start a family, what then? Will he think it’s okay to just give up?”

“Believe me, once he has grandchildren, he’ll have all the more reason to fight,” the blonde one said. “My parents can’t get enough of the twins.”

“It’s still hard to believe you’re the father of twins, Ben,” Gwilym said with a smirk. 

Gwilym’s back was to you when you reached the table. 

“Good evening,” you began shakily, but then cleared your throat. “What can I get for you, gentlemen?”

The blonde one, Ben, addressed you first. 

“A pitcher of ale is fine,” he said. “I’ve got this round, and Rami will get the next. We’re treating the birthday boy.”

He clapped Gwilym on the shoulder. 

“That’s not for another two days!” Gwilym insisted. “You’re the guests, I should treat.”

“Yes, but we’re guests to your birthday ball,” Rami replied, as Ben was already handing you some coins. 

“How exciting,” you said, trying to contain your curiosity. 

A ball? With rich out of town guests? Gwilym must really be somebody. 

“Aren’t you going to wish him a happy birthday?” Rami asked. 

You shook your head. “Sorry, but it’s bad luck to say it before the day.”

Gwilym finally looked at you. You saw his brow crease as he searched your eyes for recognition, but you quickly cut your gaze away. You didn’t want him to know you. Not truly. 

“Well, you can’t argue with superstitions,” Ben said.

“You just say that because you’re friends with pirates,” Rami teased. 

You smiled, and allowed yourself to look at Gwilym once more. He was paying no mind to his friends, and was still gazing at you. His eyes were so clear and blue. 

“I will wish you good luck,” you said sweetly. 

Gwilym felt his heart skip a beat. “I...well, thank you.”

You looked away and at his friends. “I’ll be right back with that ale.”

You turned on your heel and swept away from the table, taking deep breaths to steady yourself. Your heart was hammering against your ribcage. 

“Y/N, are you alright?” Zelda asked as you came into the back, her face drawn with concern. “You look pale, child.”

“I...I think you should take that table, Zelda,” you said. 

“Why?” she demanded. “Were they being disrespectful? Because I don’t care how rich they are, I’ll kick every one of their sorry -”

“No, nothing like that,” you cut across her with a small laugh. “They’re perfectly polite, I just am a bit intimidated.”

“Intimidated?” she questioned. 

You couldn’t really make her understand. There was something about Gwilym that made you want him to see you as elegant and refined. Not a helpless orphan and waitress.  

“Well, I’m sorry,” she said. “But as your friend, I’ve got to make you face your fears.”

“But, Zelda, I -” 

“No buts,” she cut across you, handing you a pitcher on a tray with three pints. “You’ll be just fine.”

She gave you a little push and you stumbled out of the kitchen. Zelda watched you make your way back to the table with a sigh. The truth was, she saw how lovely and charming you were, and she hoped that one of those men was your ticket out of this life. 

“Here we are,” you said cheerfully, donning the mask you usually wore, and placing the drinks down in front of each of the men. “Anything else for you gentlemen just now?”

“We’re alright, thank you,” Rami told you. 

“Perfect, just shout if you need anything,” you said quickly.

Again, you scurried away, but still felt Gwilym’s eyes on your back.

“Did she give us her name?” Ben asked. 

Gwilym didn’t answer. He was watching the door you’d disappeared behind. 

“Hello?” Ben said to his friend, exchanging a concerned look with Rami.

“Gwil!” Rami barked.

Gwilym started and looked at his friends, straightening his shirt. “Sorry. What?”

“What’s got you so hung up on her?” Ben asked, jerking his chin toward the kitchen door.

“I swear I saw that girl earlier today,” Gwilym answered. “While Father and I were out riding. She looks different, but something about her face, I just…”

“Oh, no,” Ben said grimly.

Gwilym’s brows came together. “What?”

“He’s got it,” Rami added.

“Got what?” Gwilym demanded. 

“The love stare,” Ben answered.

“I beg your pardon?” Gwilym questioned. “Love? I don’t even know her name.”

“Doesn’t matter, you’ve got the stare,” Ben said. “I’ve had it, Rami’s had it, and once you’ve got it, it’s the end of your life as you know it.”

Gwilym frowned. “What on Earth are you talking about?”

“The first time I saw my wife - well, the second time actually since the first time I was barely conscious - I looked at her and nothing else mattered,” Ben said. “I couldn’t stop looking at her. Tell him, Rami.”

“It’s true,” Rami agreed. “With my wife, it only took our first meeting for me to become sort of obsessed with her. All I wanted was to be close to her.”

Gwilym rolled his eyes. “You’re both being absurd. I was just trying to place her from earlier, nothing more.”

“And I was just trying to find the girl who rescued me,” Ben said. “You tell yourself whatever you want.”

A beat passed as Gwilym considered this. He did find you rather attractive earlier. Your pretty eyes - so sad, but so beautiful - shining in the sunlight. The way your cloak framed your delicate face. Sure, you were pretty, but that didn’t mean he was in love, did it?

“Do you want to see her again?” Rami asked. 

“I don’t know,” Gwilym said. “She’s probably a perfectly lovely girl, I just -”

“Invite her to the ball,” Ben said. 

“My father is planning on introducing me to dozens of ladies that night, I can’t show up with a date,” Gwilym said. 

“Then invite everyone,” Rami suggested. “The whole town. That way, she’ll turn up if she’s available, and you can be introduced to her as well.”

“I’m not sure my father would approve,” Gwilym said. 

“Listen, mate,” Ben replied. “If there’s anything Rami and I have learned, it’s that you’ve got to bend the rules a little to get what you want. And let’s say that’s not the girl of your dreams, some other girl might be. But you can’t know that if your only options are other nobility.”

“I did tell Father I wanted to give everyone a chance,” Gwilym conceded. “I think that’s a brilliant idea. The castle should not be off limits to the townspeople. Everyone will be invited to my ball.”

The three princes grinned and clinked glasses.

Meanwhile, you were busy running food and more drinks. You found yourself constantly glancing over at Gwilym and his friends, and they eventually waved you over to order another round, which you handled just as briefly as the first time. Although they were so pleasant, a large part of you wanted nothing more than to sit down and join them. 

They left after about two hours, and you watched them go, feeling heavier somehow. You sighed as the door began to close, casting one last glance Gwilym’s way. The night wore on, you continued in your work, and then closing time came, and you and Zelda began to clean up. It was well after midnight. 

You were wiping some clean mugs when Zelda approached you. She put all the earnings for the night into the safe and then she stretched backward and groaned. 

“Better take it easy soon, Y/N, or you’ll end up with a back as bad as mine,” she joked.

You half smiled. “I’m afraid Frank allows me no time for taking it easy.”

Zelda paused, looking long and hard at you. You stopped your cleaning and met her eyes.

“What?” you asked.

“Y/N, don’t you think it’s about time you got away from Frank?” she wondered earnestly.

“Of course I do, but I haven’t any money,” you replied. “Or a place to go.”

She bit her lip and looked at the ground, hesitating on what she wanted to say. You wrinkled your nose and fixed your gaze on her face. 

“Zelda, what is it?” you pressed.

She looked at you again. “You’d have those things if you got married.”

You blinked, as shocked as if she’d slapped you. 

“Married?” you questioned. 

She nodded. “Yeah. I mean, goodness knows, you’ve gathered the heart of almost every single man who comes into this place. Any of them would make a fine and loyal husband.”

Your heart sank at the mere thought. True, the men you served here were sweet and fun, but you had no real attraction to them. At least, nothing beyond a friendship. You had your heart set on falling in love, and being as passionate as your parents were. What else made a marriage worth having?

“I don’t love them,” you replied plainly. 

Zelda struggled not to roll her eyes. “Romantic as the notion is, most people are not as lucky as your parents were. Most people find a good person and settle down, and make it enough.”

“I’m not most people,” you returned. “I could never promise myself to just anybody to get out from under Frank.”

She heaved a sigh. “I’m asking you to be realistic, Y/N. It might be the only way out.”

“But that’s a horrible foundation for a marriage!” you argued. “Besides, if the whole point is for me to get my freedom, then what good would it do to go from my stepfather to a husband?”

“Y/N, think!” she cried. “Any of the men here would be much kinder to you! It’s true, you wouldn’t have complete independence, but at least you would no longer suffer this abuse!”

You paused, heart cracking at the idea. She wasn’t wrong. Your life would be fairly pleasant as the wife of a farmer or a merchant. But love…

“I can’t, Zelda,” you said levelly. “I just can’t. I’ve clung to the hope of love for too long. If I give up on it now, I...I wouldn’t be able to get out of bed each day. I can’t compromise.”

She sighed again. “At least think about it, Y/N. Please.”

You gave her a curt nod. She walked away and you watched her go, mind reeling with her suggestion. 

***

The next day, Gwilym sat at the breakfast table with his father. As he spread some butter on a fresh piece of toast, the prince looked at the king, debating how to tell him of his idea to invite the townspeople.

“Father,” he began. “I’ve been thinking.”

“Oh, here we go,” the king grumbled. “What is it?”

“I’d like to invite the whole town to my birthday ball,” Gwilym said, pushing down the urge to snap at the insult. “And I mean everyone, from the gentry to the servants.”

The king shot a glare down the table at Rami and Ben, who were looking pointedly at their own plates.

“Is that so?” the king questioned. “You do realize how much more work we’ll have to do in order to accommodate that amount of guests?”

“You’re the king, surely you can make it happen,” Gwilym said. “It would mean a lot to me, Father. Please?”

He held Gwilym’s gaze, and he softened. As gruff as he was, the king lived to make his son happy. And if the prince wanted it, he was almost always granted it.

“Very well,” he sighed. “We will send out the invitations this afternoon.” 

“Thank you, Father!” Gwilym exclaimed, standing up to hug the king. “You are a most gracious monarch.”

The king squirmed away from his son’s grasp and mumbled irritably under his breath. Gwilym chuckled and looked at his friends. 

“Shall we head out?” he asked. 

“Absolutely,” they agreed. 

The three of them were going hunting today to get out of the palace while the ball was being put together. Ben clapped Gwilym on the back as they exited the palace and walked toward the stables.

“Well done, mate,” he said. “That wasn’t so bad.”

“He did agree surprisingly quickly,” Gwilym remarked.

“Well, it is your birthday,” Rami joked. “You should have whoever you want at your party. I invited the whole village to my wedding, and it was great!”

“I do want to be more involved with my people,” Gwilym agreed. “And who knows? This may be my best birthday yet!”

They laughed together as a footman brought them their horses.

***

You spent the morning cooking with Elise before going up to get your step sisters dressed. Part of you hoped they’d soon get married. That way they could have breakfast in bed and give you some reprieve in the mornings. Your step sisters were okay enough women, and you were certain Frank was plotting some advantageous marriage for them as soon as possible. And it seemed they were also eager to be away from their father.

You walked with Eleanor down the stairs, but parted ways to go to the kitchen. You brought them fresh tea and poured it into their cups.

“Y/N, I need you to mend my coat that’s hanging in my room today,” Frank said as he took a sip.

You were on edge this morning, especially after the events of the previous day. And you were nervous about your conversation with Zelda. You felt that somehow Frank knew how badly you desired to leave now.

“Yes, sir,” you said quietly. 

“And I won’t be going into town,” he said. “I’ve got to update the books of the estate today, so I’ll be in my office all day.”

You nodded. It was always a disappointment when Frank had to stay home during the day. He seemed to find random, pointless tasks for you, lest you find yourself with time to read or eat. But, if it was to balance the books, then he likely would be cooped up in his office.

“Would you like me to bring you your lunch when it’s ready?” you asked. 

“Yes,” he said. “The girls have their music teacher coming so take theirs to the music room. Other than that, we are not to be disturbed.”

The only exceptions to the “do not disturb” rule were fires and injury. You nodded again, understanding.

After breakfast, you cleaned up and did the dishes. Then you headed to the fireplace in the parlor. It was in desperate need of cleaning, so you agreed to take it on. Elsie’s knees just wouldn’t be able to bear it. Before you began, you looked at the chair that your father used to use. When you were a little girl, and your parents hosted parties, the men gathered in this parlor after dinner for brandy and cigars. But your father always told you goodnight before you went to sleep, so you’d slip into the room, to find him in that chair every time. He’d smile, scoop you up, and put you on his knee to give you a big good night kiss. You could still feel the little scratches from his facial hair. 

With a sad smile, you got to work. 

The fireplace turned out to be a bear of a project. It had not been cleaned in years, apparently, and the soot had really built up. After hours of sweeping and scrubbing, you finally got to your feet and admired the clean brick. You were covered in ashes now, and smeared a little on your forehead when you wiped your sweat away. You decided you’d better change and rinse off before mending Frank’s coat. 

You walked out into the entrance hall with surprising timing. Just then, there was a knock at the door. You glanced around, but Robert wasn’t close by. With a shrug, you went to answer it.

The door creaked open when you turned the knob. There stood a young man in a handsome suit, with a huge bag slung over his shoulder. In it, appeared to be hundreds of matching envelopes. 

“How can I help you?” you asked politely.

“Good afternoon, madam,” the man replied, grabbing a letter and holding it out to you. “An invitation from the king.”

You gasped. “The king?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said. “The whole town has been invited.”

“Invited to what?” you wondered, taking the letter.

The man offered a short bow, which you returned, and then walked back to his horse. You closed the door and looked at the envelope. It was addressed only to “Residents” and then the address, so it wasn’t technically wrong for you to open it. On the other hand, Frank was particular about things like this. You had no desire to set him off again. 

In another remarkable moment, Elsie was coming with Frank’s lunch tray. She offered to take it since you’d taken on the fireplace. 

“Elsie,” you said as you approached. “This letter arrived from the palace. I’m sure Frank will want to open it.”

“Right you are, Y/N,” she agreed.

You placed the letter next to his plate and offered her a little smile. Whatever it was - if it was royal business - likely had nothing to do with you. Still, you were a little curious.

You forgot about the letter while you changed your dress and washed your face. When you came back down from your room and opened the door to Frank’s chambers, he burst out of his office so suddenly, it startled you. His eyes were crazed, a strange burning behind his irises. 

“Y/N, fetch my daughters!” he demanded. “This instant!”

You didn’t hesitate to hurry down the stairs to the music room. You opened the door without knocking.

“Y/N!” Eleanor cried, hands on her hips. “We’re in the middle of a lesson!”

“Your father says to come quick!” you urged her.

The two of them picked up their skirts and ran with you all the way back up to Frank’s office, leaving their music teacher stricken at the piano. Your heart was thumping with excitement. What could this be?

“Father?” Miranda questioned as the three of you entered the study. “What’s the matter?”

He held up the letter. 

“There is a ball at the palace tomorrow night,” he said slowly. “And we’ve received an invitation.” 

[sif-the-tsunami]

Ropes and Roses part 4

Summary: Elizabeth Rosehill is a talented dance instructor and a force of nature that beguiles her famous student. Events in her life, however, have led her to search for more creative ways for her to keep herself afloat. What will she do to keep her dreams secure and what will it mean for her blossoming relationship. This is a very adult story about two people who are moderately terrible at adulting.

Warning: Fem! Dom/ Fem! Sub, Bisexual shenanigans, anal play, squirting, BDSM, crying, two people who are literal disasters trying to figure things out, Mentions of cheating, exhibitionism

Word count: 3300 and some change. This update is THICC

A/N: If you read it and like it, it would mean a lot to me if you could say something nice!

The next morning, Elizabeth woke up to the snuffling and snorting of one very bear like dog. He also might have stuck his cold nose right in her face a couple times. The room was unfamiliar, it took her a few moments to put together the pieces of the night before. Henry had put her in the soft flannel shirt he was wearing yesterday, but she didn’t remember that happening. The water and Tylenol were consumed, she looked around the room for a moment.  Her boots from the night before were sitting near the bedside table, placed together. Her dress and other personal affects were sitting on the empty space on the other side of the bed. The air was chilly but her bed was welcoming and warm. She didn’t think that this was his bedroom. Soon Kal was running back and forth between the bedroom and somewhere out in the living room.

Two soft knocks on the open door drew her attention the big man in the frame. “Good morning.”

“Morning,” Her normally luscious voice sounded small.

“How did you sleep?”

“Well enough I suppose. Thank you for the water bottle. How did you sleep?”

“I slept well.” He watched her scoot over a little in the bed, and pat the warm spot she had vacated for him.

“Lizzie, I don’t know. I...”

“It’s okay.” She tucked the blanket back up to her neck. “It is just cold and I wanted to talk to you about last night.”

“We don’t have to, we were drunk and having a good time. Two friends having a very… friendly… you know, make out session. Is there anything to talk about it?” He cringed just thinking about it. What the hell, Henry? He thought to himself.

“What? Oh, I guess not, is there.” Her voice cracked, she coughed to clear it. “Um, if you don’t mind giving me a moment, I guess I’ll just get dressed, and let you get back to your day.”

Henry closed the door to give her some privacy and swore under his breath. Kal whined at the door. He look up at his dad then put his nose right and the door again. He pawed at it a couple times, then very dejectedly laid down. A few moments later, she emerged, everything thrown back together, hair in a sloppy bun. She kept her eyes down and handed the flannel shirt to him.  

“Elizabeth, wait, I didn’t mean it like that.” She looked at him for a moment, all of the joy he worked so hard to bring her last night, that beautifully contented smile she had when she saw him this morning, was gone.

“I’m sure you didn’t, it’s fine.” And with that she left.

****

Later in the afternoon, Kal was resting his head on Henry’s lap when the pup let out a long low whine. He put his book down, “I know mate, I messed up. Do you think I should text her?”

Kal started wagging his tail. “I really should have cuddled with her this morning. Okay, Henry, we can do this, you like her a lot. She clearly liked you until you fucking blew it this morning. 

I’m a fucking idiot and I’m sorry

I hurt you and I would give anything to take that back. You said you didn’t know what you can give me, but I know what I am capable and wanting to give you.

I want to take you on a real date. Would you be be interested in joining me for dinner this Friday?

A couple hours later Elizabeth responded with Thank you for apologizing. I already have something going on Friday evening, I could make time for lunch, if not, I don’t have a free night until the following Thursday after my last class.

“I don’t think she has forgiven me,” Henry was then doing his dishes, Kal laying down in front of the refrigerator. “But she did say yes!”

Kal wagged his head and picked his head up.

Lunch works! What time would you like me to pick you up? He hammered out all of the details with the one he longed for. He sat down to eat an early dinner when Henry heard his phone vibrate again. It was Jeremy.

Hey, Jillian told me about you and your girl going out last night. I need to show you something, it’s important. Get cleaned up and ready to go, I’ll be there in an hour. Dress like you give a fuck.

His friend’s husband was not someone that weighs on other people’s choices, he honestly had mostly been indifferent to Henry and Jillian’s entire friendship, enough so that the text in itself caught him off guard. He showered quickly, put on a black suit with a light gray button up.

“Kal, be a good lad. Hopefully daddy isn’t over dressed.”

Jeremy said little on the way to their destination. It made his passenger a little anxious. They soon were in a dark district of the city, when businesses close for the day it usually was deserted. One dark building front had two men standing in front of it, and a flickering Edison style light bulb. Jeremy gave the man who approached their car a shiny black card, the logo read The Fox Catcher. Soon the doors were opened for them and one of the men outside was valet parking the car. Inside a large gentleman was standing there. He looked like he could crush the skull of anyone who would dare to start trouble.

In a deep Nordic baritone he said “Gentlemen, please grab a mask. The show will begin soon.”

After they had put on ill fitting masks that covered half of their faces, Henry and Jeremy were sat down at a small cocktail table by a woman with impossibly red hair hair that came down to her waist. She wore a tight black leather dress and knee high boots that made her pale skin look like porcelain.  The room was lit dimly enough that he had a hard time seeing the other people but the heat and buzz in the room let him know they were not alone.

Henry tried to make himself as comfortable as possible. Jeremy looked like he was seething with resentment and hostility. They were sitting close to where the performance would be taking place. Henry tugged nervously at his shirt collar.

“Why are we here?”

“You’ll see...” was all Jeremy said.

The light from above the stage clicked on revealed some wooden furniture. A platinum blonde was then lead out onto the stage by what Henry realized was a leash attached to nipple clamps. The man who brought her out was wearing a black mask and dark clothes attached the arms of the blonde woman to a large wooden X in the middle of the stage with her back to the audience. She was only wearing a black thong, but hers was the only face visible. Her skin was pale enough that the light above seemed to bounce off of her.  Soon came a clacking on the wooden stage floor. The unmistakable sound of high heels walking with authority came echoing out and the room fell silent. Out came a petite woman, long hair pulled back into a pony tail, wearing a leather mask with two cat ears on the top, tight pants, a suit jacket and a silver sparkly bralette under. She had blood red lipstick applied perfectly.  The stage was high enough that Henry saw the boots she was wearing as she strut out from the back.  

They looked a lot like the ones he put next to Elizabeth this morning. He bit the inside of his lip then looked over at Jeremy. His eyes were transfixed on the woman in the cat mask.  “Mate, I promise this is for your own good.”

“Good evening, Mistress Bettie.” The restrained woman said. She adjusted herself a little. A slight shuffle that caused the metal of her attachments to clink together softly.

“Good evening. I have been informed that you have been a very naughty vixen, is that right?” He knew that voice. Henry’s guts churned.

No, no, no, no. Please. He thought, his mind was screaming at him to leave. He kept looking over at Jeremy, the hatred he had on his face a moment earlier was turning into a look of smug satisfaction.

“Yes, Mistress.”

“And what do I do to naughty vixens, my darling?”

“You punish them, Mistress.”

“That’s right, so what do you think I’m going to do to you tonight?”

“You are going to punish this naughty vixen, Mistress.”

“Are you ready?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

There was a table next to the tableau, the Mistress picked up a leather paddle and softly pat her open hand with it. She set is down, then picked up a nasty looking leather tool that he didn’t know the name of, she swung it around a little bit, letting the tendrils of leather make whistling noises as it went back and forth. She hit her own thigh intentionally, making a loud thud. The blonde jumped. Lastly she picked up a whip that would make Indiana jealous. Walking to the farthest part of the stage, the domina made the whip crack to either side of blonde woman. She flinched and jumped away each time. The whip was placed down.

“That had better be the last time you move around like that, vixen, or I’ll give you a reason to squirm.”

“Yes Mistress, I’ll be better, Mistress.”

“I think I need to warm you up first, don’t you agree?” Henry watcher her put on some black medical gloves and then proceed to start spanking the bottom of woman tied up. The receiver squealed and moaned. Her pristine flesh turning a hot pink after a couple a good swats. The Domme reached between her captives legs and spanked her thighs. Higher and higher she went until she landed a slap on the cotton covered center point, but gave her a tender rub after. “You liked that, didn’t you? Such a good slut.”

“Yes, thank you Mistress,” her gratitude melted into a moan as she arched her back into the generous hands of her captor.

“Just so our friends are all clear, my beautiful vixen, what is your safe word?” Still massaging the blonde’s sex through the cotton fabric.

“Milkshake, Mistress.” She gasped as the black gloved hands found their way inside.

“Thank you, pet.” She pulled her hand away and had the blonde lick her gloved fingers clean. Henry watched the two of them share a tender moment before the Domme walked away. She then grabbed the  tool he didn’t know about. “Oh no, my little vixen, you are missing something.”

The Domme grabbed a faux fur fox tail off of the table. With the flick of a switch it started vibrating aggressively enough that Henry could hear it from where he was sitting. That poor girl was going to be in for it. He had a mixture of emotions coursing through his mind. He held onto the last shred of doubt that maybe Elizabeth had a doppelganger.

“I think these need to come off first.” and she ripped off the black thong. The Dominatrix ran the plug against the delicious folds of her captive, getting as much of her arousal on it as possible. The plug was inserted, the blonde started moaning and her knees buckled. She smiled at the ashen haired woman, letting her enjoy the moment and then clicked off the remote. “Remember, my darling, you can’t come without my permission.”

The submissive let out a groan and stomped her feet. Then the Dominatrix grabbed the heavy leather flogger and swung it around the blonde artfully. Sometimes it was just the tips dancing across the reddening skin, there were times it was a heavy sounding thud. As uncomfortable as this was making him, however, he couldn’t help but notice that the woman receiving was clearly enjoying herself. She arched her back, moaned and gasped in bliss. The Dominatrix gestured to the man on the stage and he unlocked her just long enough to turn her around. He gave her arms a little rub to get the blood flow back as the suit jacket came off of Mistress Bettie. There is was, plain as day. The roses on her torso that he had become more acquainted with the night before.  He closed his eyes for a moment as a wave of anxiety washed over him. He was not supposed to be here, to see this side of her yet. But there she was in front of him. She looked powerfully sexy.

As soon as she the vixen was situated, Elizabeth turned the vibrator back on and started flogging the fronts of her thighs, her breasts and pubic mound. She was clearly very aroused, her body was glistening and her nipples protruded proudly from where they were. The dominant woman placed the flogger down and came up to her submissive, she ran her hands all over her body. She gave the vixen’s nipples some much needed attention and then slide one, two then three fingers inside of her.

“Do you think you deserve to come, naughty girl.” Elizabeth’s hand started moving faster, coaxing her climax out of her soaking wet pussy.

“Yes please, Mistress.”

“Then tell me what you are.”

“I’m a slut, Mistress, a fucking slut.” Her breath was as shaky as her legs

“Who’s slut?”

“Your slut, Mistress.” The woman’s eyes were rolling to back of her head in pleasure

“Then come for your Mistress you fucking whore. Good girl” Elizabeth smiled at her as the sub came loudly all over her hand and proceeded to squirt. Flicking the fluid at the blissful woman, she playfully scolded the vixen “Look at the mess you’ve made.”

The man in black helped her down and the woman got on her hands and knees before Elizabeth. “So now, pet. You can get to chose your next punishment. We can either play the counting game, or we can play the clothes clip game.”

Still panting, “the counting game, Mistress, please.”

“Alright, catch your breath my dearest,” Elizabeth grabbed a stool. The blonde positioned herself leaning across it, she was facing Henry and Jeremy at this point. She wiggled her fingers in a little hello at them both and settled in. “Last time, we made it to what was it eight? Alright, my vixen, make me proud.”

“Yes Mistress.” Elizabeth turned the vibrator up a little, flipped the tail up her back, and spanked the sub’s bottom. “One, thank you Mistress, may I have another.”

Another very loud thud. “Two, Thank you Mistress, may I have another.”

After six, Henry realized that this was less pleasurable for the blonde than the flogging had been. Tears were running down her face. Elizabeth leaned down and licked one of the tears from her face. She looked down for a second and saw the man sitting in the front. She stopped dead in her tracks.

She mouthed his name, he nodded slightly and she then whispered something into the blonde’s ear. One last spank and suddenly the unnamed vixen burst out her safe word as loudly as she could and started openly crying.

“Oh no, my poor sweet girl.” She gently rubbed the subs bottom, Elizabeth then draped her suit jacket on the back of her plaything, she turned and looked at Henry one last time. “I think I’ve hit her limit tonight. Good night.”

The man in black rushed forward and covered the backs of the women like the proper body guard he was, escorting the women off the stage. Henry then turned to the man who brought him and hissed through his teeth “What the actual fuck was the point of you bringing me here?”

“What, you should be thanking me! I exposed her for the snake in the grass that she is!”

Henry walked away angrily. The room was emptying out as quietly as they had come in, although they could tell that some of the clients were giving the cocktail waitresses a hard time about the show being cut short. The redhead that took care of them that evening was being harassed by an older man. Henry told him off and handed her two of the largest bills that he had on him. He pulled his phone out and messaged Elizabeth. I have really fucked up your whole day, haven’t I? Please call me, I’m worried about you.

“You selfish fucking cunt. I am trying my hardest to not wreck this poor woman’s life more than I have and you decide that this is what you want to do?” Henry was trying to keep himself from yelling. “I like her, a lot. A whole lot. She is the nicest person I have ever met and what part of any of what we just saw would make you think that I would like her less?”

“She’s a whore!” Jeremy yelled.

“And? What is your problem with sex workers? I fucking whore myself for every damn role I do. At least she’s more honest about it! The shit I put myself through is no worse than anything that happened on that stage. Does your wife know about this?”

“No, and you wouldn’t dare!”

“You have until tomorrow night to tell her that you come to clubs like this or I swear to god, I will.” He had never been so riled up before. It was taking everything to not rip the smaller, balding man apart piece by piece. “This would devastate her, and you know it.”

“Gentlemen, I need you to calm down.” The large Nordic man said calmly. Henry adjusted his suit jacked when he felt his pocket vibrate.

I’ll be out in a moment, wait for me?

Of course

As they walked outside, Jeremy started up again. Fortunately this time they were alone. The valet driver’s were getting his car as quickly as they could. “You can’t turn a woman like that into a housewife, Henry. You saw that she very clearly enjoyed playing with another girl. What will you do if she starts craving pussy? I am not okay with you seeing this bird. She will destroy you, Henry. We were all there after your last big break up. This one will be the worst of all of them. I can see it already.”

“Jeremy, I’ve know her for a few weeks at this point. After this, I wouldn’t blame her if she never wanted to speak to me again. And I probably don’t deserve to. But you do not get to make that call.”

Elizabeth watched from the door way as they yelled at each other.

“She’s literally a whore, she gets paid a lot of money to fuck people. What if she has private clients the same way she took on private dance lessons with you? How many people do you think she’s sleeping with?”

“Firstly, it is none of your business who I’m sleeping with. Secondly, I don’t do private shows, you know that, you asked me for one several time. Each time I said no.” She put her foot down. Henry reached out for her, and she leaned into him.

“Jeremy, I think you should leave. I will make my own way home.”

“You expect me to leave you here… with her?”

“Yes, and you had better tell Jillian or I will.” Henry snarled, protectively hugging Elizabeth. He turned to her and softly said “I’m so sorry.”

“Wait he’s married? And he’s calling me a whore? Hey, fuck you, Jeremy!” She snarled at the man getting into his car. “Well today has been a cluster fuck.”

“That is putting it mildly. Please come home with me, I want to make up for this morning and for surprising you like this, I’ll bring you breakfast in bed, we can do whatever you want.”

The woman smiled gently at him and shushed him with a kiss. “I would like that, but I would love to sleep in my own bed tonight. My place isn’t as nice as yours but you are welcome to be there with me tonight.”

“I would like that a lot.”

[juminsmysticmc]

mc has a younger sister but they don't get along and she has a crush on mc's s/o. sorry for my bad english lol. rfa + minor trio

RFA + Minor Trio with a Mc who’s sister has a crush for them 

Yuhuuu! congratulations to myself who after a life time finally could update all her own ideas and post them! Yep, updating requests took so long because I had some own stuff I wanted to post first…But now enough talking and here you are! BTW, feel free to write me, I’m pretty bored these days T.T I miss you guys ;;

Jumin 

Family, something that for your husband was highly valued. 

And so it was something normal that at the weekends you guys would have a family day. 

Every Saturday at your mom’s place and every Sunday a fancy dinner with Jumin’s Dad and his new girlfriends. 

It was something that Jumin Han enjoyed a lot. 

Yes, Jumin Han. 

Not you. 

Not Mc Han. 

For you the weekend was the worst time in the week. 

Well, the dinner dates you had with him and his dad were good, you enjoyed them too but meeting a certain person at your mom’s place made your heart beat quicker. 

Although, not in a positive way. 

You just hated to see the face of the woman who took so many things from you, your sister. 

Yes, it was indeed sad to have such feelings towards the own sister but you just couldn’t prevent to hate her. 

Whatever you loved in your childhood, she was the one who snapped it away. 

Your capability for instruments? She wanted to do something like that too and since she was so bad at it your parents asked you to give up to sponsor her music lessons instead of yours. 

Your hobby? She began to love it too. 

Your taste in certain things? Of course she copied. 

It was always like this and there was no way that this would ever change. 

But taking away your husband was a bit too much. 

Even through she had a crush on Jumin, he was your husband. 

You hated the sight how she stroked his arm while smiling sweetly and how Jumin smiled back! 

Of course he thought of her as a sister and a sister wouldn’t flirt with him. 

And so the dork of your husband just ignored her flirting. 

But at some point it was too much. 

It seemed as if she was married to him, not you.  

You got up and slammed your plate on the table, destroying the porcelain plate. 

,,ENOUGH IS ENOUGH!’’ you yelled, gaining a surprising look from Jumin. 

,,Take my capability, my hobby and my taste but please don’t touch my husband!’’ you screamed, feeling your throat becoming sore. 

Your sister abruptly got up, blushing in a deep red and mumbling something you simply couldn’t or didn’t want to understand. 

With her leaving the room you left too, followed by your husband who still didn’t understand. 

,,Why did you do that? She didn’t do anything, my love….’’ he said, trying to understand your feelings. 

,,AHA?! REALLY?!’’ you asked him getting angrier. 

,,Stroking your arm and whispering into your ear is something a sister-in-law would do?!’’ you hissed. 

At this point you decided to show him that this wasn’t a proper relationship. 

You told your father-in-law that due to a argument you would flirt with him and so you did, noticing that Jumin didn’t enjoy your behavior. 

,,Mc! You know what I think of my father in these….topics!’’ he snapped. 

You nodded at your husband. 

,,You know about your father and I know about my sister!’’ and with this Jumin realized that perhaps you were right. 

Maybe it wasn’t the best decision, maybe it even wasn’t a good decision at all but for the time being both of you agreed on stopping meeting your family, at least your sister. 

Zen 

You disliked your sister’s behavior. 

You just couldn’t stand how she did things, how she behaved back then, when both of you were still living below a roof. 

Always giving you ways to get into trouble or hurting you with her words. 

You just couldn’t stand her even through you really loved her. 

Back then when you and Zen became a couple you simply forgot that your sister always had a crush on Zen, one of her favorite idols. 

Now that the two of you were about to meet your family you got reminded again and you hated the thought to meet her. 

Indeed, your hate and fears weren’t in vain. 

The whole time while you were somewhere else talking to your relatives your sister flirted with your Zenny, making it evidently that she had a crush on him. 

You hated it. 

But for the whole family you tried to hold back. 

Although you were about to explode when your sister grabbed his hand, begging for something. 

You observed him from afar. 

As soon as she had his hand Zen looked for you, his helpless eyes looked for yours. 

In that very moment you knew that Zen didn’t know if he could be rude to her or not due to the situation. 

,,OI!’’ you yelled from where you were standing. 

You immediately approached and pushed her away.

You were about to kill her with your glare. 

,,Aren’t you ashamed?! You dare do flirt here with my boyfriend?! Are you fucking serious?!’’ 

Your sister just chuckled, smiling at Zen afterwards. 

,,He didn’t seem to dislike it. Perhaps he even wanted to-‚‘’ 

,,No.’’ Zen said firmly before she could end her sentence. 

,,I wanted to be nice to you but now I know that it’s impossible. I only love Mc and I will love only her forever.’’ Zen said, making you blush even through this wasn’t the best moment. 

With that both of you left hand in hand, being watched by everyone in the room. 

As soon as both of you were outside he took your hands and kissed your cheeks which were getting wet from the tears you shed.

,,Jagiya, I’m sorry for the situation…’’ he mumbled. 

With a nod you explained him that it was okay. 

,,We weren’t in the best relationship anyway…I just didn’t imagine she could do something like this….’’ after a few more tears Zen and you finally got on his bike on your way home to at least enjoy your evening. 

Yoosung 

Today was a happy day for you. 

It was the first time that Yoosung and you would meet your parents after both of you became a couple. 

,,My sister is also studying to become a vet but to be honest I don’t know in which year she is or if she dropped it. We don’t get along…..it doesn’t mean that you can’t talk to her….I just wanted to tell you.’’ you told him while both of you sat in the car, your eyes always on the road. 

Yoosung nodded and agreed to you.  

He wondered if there was a reason for the both of you to not get along but he didn’t want to ask you now. 

Both of you didn’t even get out of the car when suddendly a brown haired girl ran towards you, smiling brightly at Yoosung as if he was the king hmself. 

,,Yoosung-Sunbae! You here? Such a beautiful surprise!’’ she exclaimed, ignoring you perfectly. 

,,Oh, hi. I’m sorry…I actually recognize you but I don’t know your name…’’ he mumbled, blushing a bit and looking at you. 

You sighed and told him that this was your sister. 

Before you however could tell her that Yoosung was your boyfriend she took his arm and giggled with him.  

,,So mean, Sunbae! I greet you every morning!’’

With that she tried to make him follow her into the house where you overheard your brother asking her, if this was her boyfriend. 

,,Well…’’ she mumbled. 

Your heart dropped. 

You loved her but the hate towards her was always much bigger than the love. 

Perhaps you were just disappointed ever since your mother died.

,,How dare you?!’’ you yelled at her, throwing your bag on the floor. 

,,I’m not even in and you already make me regret it!’’ 

,,Sorry, I’m actually Mc’s boyfriend. I don’t know why she grabbed my arm….’’ Yoosung said, trying to get rid of your sister’s grip. 

,,What?! You snapped away my crush?!’’ she whined, making you look like the bad one again. 

It was always so. 

If she wanted to get something or to even ask for something, she always said ,,Mc wanted to have it. She wanted to know and persuaded me to ask….’’. 

It was never her fault but always yours. 

,,Mom! Did you hear her?!’’ she whined, looking at your step mother. 

You thought you misheard her. 

,,Did you just call her ,,Mom’’?’’ you asked her, tearing up at the sight of the woman who looked at you with apologetic eyes. 

,,It was indeed a mistake to come here again. Yoosung, I will go now….’’ you whispered with a trembling voice. 

,,Mc! I will come with you! I’m your boyfriend, not…hers!’’ Yoosung said, not even feeling bad that he actually hurt your sister’s feelings. 

As soon as both of you were outside you had to stop for a moment to breath again. 

Your heart felt heavy and your head was spinning. 

,,Mc, do you want to tell me?’’ Yoosung asked you. 

After you nodded you told him. You told him about your beautiful mother who died while giving birth to your sister. 

Of course you never stopped loving her. A mother died for her children, not because of them after all but the fact that she never recognized your mother as her mother made you feel pain in your heart. 

That’s why you just couldn’t stand her.  

Yoosung nodded, understanding your feelings. 

,,I’m sorry that it turned out like that…I love only you…’’ he assured you and took your hand, making you feel better immediately.

Jaehee 

Your situation was similar to Jaehee’s. 

You father died after a long illness and your mother died in an accident and so you and your sister were sent to other relatives. 

Your sister and you came to grow different due to your relatives behavior who liked her better than you and abused you. 

It wasn’t like you hated your sister because of this. 

It was simple - you were disappointed that back then.

Your sister didn’t do anything and just enjoyed the situation. 

A few years later both of you grew older but you still didn’t get along very well. 

But she still knew about you and Jaehee’s coffee shop and so she often came and visited you. 

You didn’t know that she just came because Jaehee was actually her crush. 

At some point she gathered all her courage and confessed to her. 

When you overheard your sister your anxiety grew, was it possible that Jaehee could leave you? 

That like everyone else she could begin to love your sister more than you? 

You stayed silent at first but when Jaehee stayed silent too you began to sob, letting hiccups out. 

Your friend turned around and smiled at you. 

,,I’m sorry. I already have someone I like and I think that she just somehow confessed to me too…’’

Saeyoung 

,,I mean, couldn’t she fall in love with Saeran?!’’ you hissed while your fiancé was driving to your families’ place while Saeran sat in the back, rolling his eyes. 

,,Well, she does have a good taste….’’ Saeyoung teased you when you told him that your sister had a crush for him. 

,,I think you’re over reacting…’’ the red haired boy behind you mumbled, trying to not gain your mean look. 

,,No, I know her…’’ you although responded and pouted for the rest of the drive. 

To be honest Saeyoung thought the same too. 

He didn’t think that your sister had a crush for him. 

But oh dear, he was so wrong. 

Your sister was one of the girls who could fall in love with someone in just a few minutes and feel annoyed in the next moment again. 

And that’s why you somehow couldn’t stand her. 

Because of her you already lost so many people and people’s trust. 

As soon as you arrived you felt that your presence was too much. 

You were right, just a few seconds later your sister approached you and sightly pushed you away to hug your beloved man. 

You looked at it once, twice and thirdly but at some point you were about to explode. 

And somehing happened that night. 

,,Aren’t you ashamed?!’’ you heard someone who was none else than your soon to be brother-in-law. 

He was protecting his older brother who tried to get rid of your disrespectful sister. 

She was clearly flirting with Saeyoung but he being he ignored everything. 

But his brother wasn’t the same. 

,,Your sister is about to get married and you behave like that?!’’ he asked her again, making her blush. 

Saeyoung finally realized everything and searched for you while he tried to get away from her strong grip. 

,,I….have a crush for him…I can’t change that…..’’ your sister tried to explain. 

,,You can change something!’’ you hissed. 

,,For example you could hold yourself back!’’ you said as example. 

,,I’m sorry. I don’t like you.’’ Saeyoung said apologetic and hugged you. 

The three of you decided to go home after this, you couldn’t stand your families’ bad mouthing about snapping away your sister’s crush - even through you knew him first.  

But this wasn’t important, you had your red haired twins as family and didn’t need more!

Saeran 

,,I-I simply can’t imagine it….’’ Saeran mumbled when you told him your thoughts. 

The both of you and the RFA were on a party and your sister would attend the party too. 

You didn’t have much contact with her, you simply couldn’t get along with her, there was no specififc reason. 

But now that you noticed her blushing whenever she saw Saeran you had a reason to dislike her a bit more. 

,,Saeran, you’re so innocent…..’’ Zen laughed who also noticed your sister’s flirting. 

Saeran decided to prove that he wasn’t an incompetent boy and wanted to show you that he only loved you. 

As soon as your sister approached him, trying to hug him, your boyfriend pushed her away. 

,,Sorry, I don’t know what you intend to do but I like your sister and I don’t want to hurt her feelings by hugging her or showing you any affection.’’ he firmly said. 

Your sister looked at you and then turned her eyes to Saeran. 

Before she stepped away she mumbled something that neither of you could understand. 

But you were really happy and proud at your boyfriend and showed him how grateful you were. 

Jihyun 

Finally the time came when you were able to let Jihyun meet your parents. 

Although, you didn’t expect your older sister from Japan to be there too. 

Everyone in the family knew that both of you simply didn’t get along. 

At first both of you only argued but after some time you both just ignored each other. 

But today you simply couldn’t ignore her. 

Her blushed cheeks whenever your boyfriend smiled, her red ears when Jihyun passed her the salt….. 

You hated it. You hated it so much, the fact that she understood art so well, that she actually owned a museum and that she was so fond of him. 

That she didn’t even hide her love for him, you simply hated it. 

The detail which made you snap was when she told him, that in her opinion she was more appropriate for him than you. 

Her evil smile afterwards, it showed pure hate. 

You were about to tear up, to slap her, to do anything at her. 

But then Jihyun got up. 

An odd smile was on his lips and then he began to talk. 

,,You may know a lot about art and may know my work but your sister knows far more than that. She knows my flaws, my fears and strenghts. Your sister was by my side even through it was hard. 

We overcame a lot of straits and….I love her. So, no. I don’t think you would fit to me at all.’’ 

Jihyun sat down again and looked at the sauce.

,,But….do you want more?’’ he asked her and showed her the sauce your mother did. 

,,NO?!’’ she hissed and quickly walked toward the exit. 

,,How….?’’

,,Jumin once did it when a boy bullied us and said that he was more fitted for our seats.’’ 

,,W-What?! Jumin explained a boy why the seats were better for the both of you?’’ you asked him again, holding back a laughter. 

Vanderwood 

Everyone knew that you and Vanderwood had a special bond so none from the RFA was really concerned for the both of you when you told them that you would go out to meet your family. 

And indeed, there wasn’t anything to worry about. 

Well, except for the fact that before eating your boyfriend polished his silverware, yours and your plates. 

But he was really educated. 

He even helped your mother to tidy up - or better your mother tried to help him. 

But it was okay for you, you couldn’t stop it anyway. 

Even through you and your sister didn’t get along you thought that the good taste in men was still in the DNA. 

She immediately began to send SnapChats about Vanderwood to her best friends. 

Of course you noticed. 

You didn’t knew what to do, she was still 15 after all and you were almost ten years older. 

But your patient stopped when she began to hug him from behind and play with him. 

She didn’t just touch your boyfriend but she practically played with a total stranger! 

Luckily Vanderwood was intelligent enough to stop her right away, pushing her from his back and scolding her. 

,,You’re dirtying my uniform and your dignity!’’ 

And so your sister’s first crush ended up being her first rejected love.  

MASTERLIST 1

MASTERLIST 2

MASTERLIST 3

28.08.2019// 18:00 MEST

Tagged:

@foreversunshine-love @giulia2372 @sailormoonrocks666

@widya345 @remiliadacalde @sailormoonrocks666 @r-f-a-journalists

[presidentrhodes]

iron husbands?

yaaaaaas thank u ❤️❤️❤️

who’s the werewolf and who’s the hunter

tony is the hunter; he comes from a long family of hunters who hunted werewolves in europe and then crossed the pond to come to the us. rhodey is heir/alpha to one of the royal bloodlines and centuries of survival instincts carved into his very dna has taught him to keep a low profile. rhodey's kept an eye on tony since college because their respective bloodlines have a long, bloody history. when wolves start turning up dead, rhodey assumes tony must be responsible, so he shows up in new york, ready to put tony's entrails on display in time square as a statement to the humans. except, to his surprise, he finds out tony has not only left his family's bloody history behind in the past, he's become a vocal activist campaigning for the rights of magical creatures in the country, including the werewolves. cue, rhodey and tony team up to find out who's killing the wolves and take them down; in the process, they obviously fall in love.

who’s the mermaid and who’s the fisherman

tony is the mermaid; he's been cast out of his family because of a mistake that got many merpeople and other marine creatures killed. he's been struggling to survive in the vast depths of the ocean, depressed, lonely and almost going out of his mind. one day, he sees a fishing boat capsize; while the land breathers are obviously an enemy, he ignores his basic survival instincts to help the fisherman struggling to stay afloat in the rough waters. tony brings the fisherman to a nearby island, with lots of greenery in the middle and no humans on it, and tends to his wounds (a broken arm, cuts and bruises etc). when the fisherman comes to, tony learns his name is rhodey and that, like him, he had also been cast out of his family and has nowhere else to go; that's why rhodey had set off for the ocean, hoping the waters would take him somewhere new. tony proposes that given their similar situation, they can begin their life anew on the island. and rhodey agrees.

who’s the witch and who’s the familiar

tony's the witch, rhodey is the familiar. tony spent the first 20 years of his life thinking he didn't have magic, even though everyone in his family is a witch or a warlock. rhodey's an animagus; his animal form is a grey wolf, and he had been with tony since he was a puppy and tony an infant. one day, tony is being chased by a wendigo and rhodey leaps in front of it to save tony's life, getting seriously wounded in the process. tony panics because rhodey's literally bleeding out in his arms and he summons every last bit of strength and wills rhodey's wounds to close shut. they do; and suddenly tony feels the magic surge through his veins, beat against his pulse and thrum in his ears. rhodey's wounds heal completely within minutes and tony, with his newfound powers, drags his best friend and familiar to the nearest bar for a celebratory drink because "fuck you, howard, i'm a witch."

who’s the barista and who’s the coffee addict

tony is the barista. he runs a small coffee shop that fits barely 10 people indoors and business has been bad ever since a fancier café opened across the road. tony knows he's going to probably have to close down soon and move out of the city because he can no longer afford rent. one night, right before he's about to close for the day, a tired businessman comes stumbling in and offers a $100 bill for a cup of coffee. tony notices how distressed and tired the man looks, so he lets him in and makes him a strong cup of coffee and warms up some meat pie, which the latter accepts gratefully. he finds out that rhodey's under a lot of stress because the board of directors at his company is trying to oust him from power. tony lends rhodey a listening ear that he desperately needs and they stay there in the café until 3am. from next day onwards, rhodey becomes a regular patron at the café, but business still dwindles until one day, tony puts up a notice outside informing customers that he will close down by the end of the week. rhodey doesn't show up for the next several days and tony assumes he probably gets his coffee from the other café now; until, on friday, as tony's about to close his outlet for the final time, rhodey shows up and hands him a stack of papers: it's the purchase deed for the space across the road. turns out, rhodey made the other café owner an offer they couldn't turn down. rhodey tells tony that he quit his job as ceo of his company and asks tony if he wants to be business partners. within a month, they're running the café from across the road and business has never been better; tony still works as barista from time to time even though they now have 10 full-time staff and rhodey's already talking about plans to create more franchises across the country. at some point, they evolve from being just business partners to...well, partners.

who’s the professor and who’s the TA

tony's the TA/PhD candidate and rhodey's the professor. they are both astrophysicists by training and they study pulsars for research. needless to say, their academic opinions differ plenty and whenever tony isn't marking problem sets and rhodey isn't lecturing young, impressionable minds, they're arguing about pulsars and what they can tell the world about matter and the existence of other exo-planets over a night cap. tony is envied by the other doctoral candidates in his year because he gets to spend so much time in professor rhodes' proximity (hello??? hot, youngish professor who's super accomplished, super smart, has some graying hair, wears tight polos and black-rimmed glasses? fucking hell...) in this instance tony's like 29, rhodey's about 34.

who’s the knight and who’s the prince(ss)

rhodey's the knight and tony's the prince. here's the backstory: tony's mum was king howard's first wife. when howard remarried, he had another son, prince arno. per the kingdom's rules on succession, you can only ascend the throne if you're of pure royal blood. tony's mum was a commoner, so she was never afforded the royal title of queen, whereas howard's second wife was a princess from a neighbouring kingdom. that said, king howard wants tony to inherit the throne, something that many of his close advisors as well as arno and his mother refuse to accept. they see tony as an impediment and when howard falls ill, numerous attempts are made on tony's life. tony is obviously very booksmart and he excels at strategy, which is why howard wants him to be king. when howard senses a possible civil war could be brewing in the kingdom, between supporters who want tony to be king and those who'd prefer arno, he calls aside a young knight, sir james, and makes him swear on his life to protect tony. (howard knew tony and rhodey had been childhood friends, which is why he approached him in the first place) when shit hits the proverbial ceiling, rhodey protects tony from all manners of assassination attempts until arno and his mother are finally thwarted and kicked out of the kingdom. tony becomes king and rhodey becomes his most trusted advisor, friend, confidante, and general. basically, tony hands the keys of the kingdom to rhodey and relies on him and his decisions to run it.

who’s the teacher and who’s the single parent

tony teaches kindergarten and loves his young charges very much. one day, they're joined by a shy, quiet new student, lila, and her overly anxious uncle, james. tony tries to reassure rhodey that lila, who had just lost her parents, would be fine and that he'd make sure she isn't being bullied or harassed for being the new kid. as the term progresses, lila slowly comes out of her shell; she makes friends, she loves recess, she loves colouring, and she is good with numbers. every week tony calls his kids' parents to update them on their children; his conversations with rhodey, however, last twice as long and become twice as frequent, until one day rhodey invites tony to lila's birthday party. tony isn't sure how to read into this: the other parents have never really invited him to their kids' birthdays and yet he doesn't want to turn down the invitation from the rhodes' (mostly because he doesn't want to upset young lila). though nothing happens at the birthday party, rhodey keeps asking him out. it starts under the pretext of wanting to know how lila is doing and morphs into them just spending time together until tony impulsively kisses rhodey on the day of lila's graduation to k2. with lila no longer his student, tony asks rhodey out on a proper date and soon he's spending his weekends at the rhodes' place until about a year later, he moves in with rhodey and lila.

who’s the writer and who’s the editor

rhodey is the editor for the opinions section in one of the top newspapers; he has a pretty fierce reputation of being a hardass editor who would chew and spit out anyone making rookie mistakes in the entire newsroom. new writers and reporters basically cower in fear; tony's an established hotshot columnist who's been headhunted from a rival paper to write a weekly political column. he is pretty well-known among politicos and is well read by a loyal audience, both offline and online. tony is basically used to getting his way until he submits his first copy for edit and rhodey returns it, each page crossed out in red, and with a remark on the final page that read: our company motto may be all news fit to print, but i am not letting this garbage print. tony is furious. how dare someone call his columns garbage when the news organisation is literally paying him a six-figure salary to write them. he marches up to rhodey's office and barges in, ready to fight. but he stops on track and blushes when he realises this asshole editor is the same handsome college senior that tony had a short, deeply physical relationship with almost 20 years ago. the argument just melts away from him and even rhodey can't find it in him to be as curt and critical as he is to the other writers because damn...the encounter brings up a lot of memories and regrets they have both had since leaving college and then losing touch.

send me a ship!

[tell-me-when-ur-ready]

This Thing Called Love (part six)

Summary: When Shawn meets dancer Kellie in Toronto, he falls for her—hard. But Kellie has an invisible disability and thinks it’s impossible that someone could really love her the way she is.

Author’s note: look I updated this series two days in a row someone give me a prize. The first kiss also may or may not happen in this installment

Warnings: none

Word count: 2,000

They went out three times in the next month. The first time was sushi in Atlanta two weeks after the music video when Shawn was in town for a big charity event and some related press; they ate and talked and strolled around a nearby park after and it felt natural and good, almost too good.

The second time was supposed to be two days later, but Kellie had a migraine and canceled, so two days after that they had a hurried dinner (which, although it was rushed, felt much more serious than going to lunch) just before he left to go back to Toronto.

The third time was a couple of weeks later, at a restaurant at Hartsfield-Jackson. Kellie wasn’t entirely convinced Shawn had to have a layover in Atlanta during his quick trip to New York, but he’d arranged it that way regardless of whether it was most efficient, so she skipped out of her nanny job for one day and went to the airport for a late lunch with him. 

They FaceTimed or talked on the phone ten times. Shawn would give Kellie updates on his songwriting. She’d tell him funny things her youngest dance students had said. He wanted updates on the routines she was choreographing, even though they both knew he didn’t understand half of the dance words she used. And if Kellie was talking to him in the living room, she’d have to fend off her roommates who liked to peer over her shoulder—Shelby not so much, but Mackenzie was a little pushier, and Shawn thought it was hilarious.

They texted almost every day. Shawn sent Kellie updates on whatever new coffee shop he’d tried that morning. He listened to her talk about her symptoms and medications when she wasn’t feeling well. She sent him interesting articles about holistic medicine. He sent her the red heart emoji a lot—he really liked that one—and yellow smiley faces.

And then he kissed her, and everything got too real, and Kellie got scared.

The kiss happened after their third date, at the Hartsfield-Jackson airport in Atlanta. Neither of them had officially labeled what they were doing as “dates,” but really, both of them knew; there was no cover from the music video anymore.

 And at first, Kellie had been nervous. She’d expected their time together to be awkward and stiff and cringeworthy. She was sure Shawn was experienced, but she personally had only ever dated one guy, and that was before she got sick; even her personality had changed now, she felt, because of her chronic illnesses. Kellie and Shawn had hit it off initially in Toronto when they went to lunch (well, before she got cold feet and ran away), but now that things were a little more serious… well, she thought it just might be too awkward.

 But she was pleasantly surprised: Their three dates were genuine and natural and fun. Until, that is, he kissed her at the end of the final one.

 He was already at the restaurant waiting for her; she’d taken an Uber instead of driving her own car because if a migraine hit unexpectedly, she wouldn’t be able to drive, and the airport was over an hour away right in the thick of Atlanta traffic. He looked good, like he always did—he was wearing black jeans and a soft blue sweater, phone in his hand, with sunglasses sitting on the table in front of him.

 When he saw her, he immediately sat up straight and waved, beaming, fumbling with his Airpods before taking them out and dropping them on the table.

 “Hey,” he said, standing up to give her a quick sideways hug, and Kellie smiled back. “Hi.”

 She was nauseous and could only pick at her lunch, but like before, their conversation flowed naturally. They were in tune with each other’s lives now and knew the things to ask about—his latest song, her latest dance (she was choreographing something for a prestigious worldwide competition in a few months), his traveling and her students. At one point a teenage fan approached the table and asked to take a picture with Shawn. Kellie braced herself for the questions—the airport was the most public place they’d been together so far—but thankfully, the girl didn’t ask a thing.

 After lunch Shawn and Kellie slipped into a semi-private nook of an airport gift shop for a moment before Kellie had to go find her Uber and Shawn needed to go back through security to catch his connecting flight. Fatigue was pushing at the edge of Kellie’s vision—she’d been teaching at the studio until too late last night and wasn’t sure how much longer she could make conversation—and she wanted this to be a quick goodbye.

 “My Uber is almost here,” she said, and Shawn nodded. He stepped a little closer to her and tilted his head.

 “It was really good to see you,” he said sincerely, and Kellie felt a little flutter of nerves in her stomach. As long as they were talking and laughing like friends, she could handle it. But when things got like this, it made her mouth go dry, wishing they could press fast-forward and skip past it. Not that she wanted to skip past it forever. She wanted this, more than anything. But it just wasn’t possible. So it was better to not even try, because—

 “What are you thinking about, Kell?” Shawn said, a soft look in his eyes. No one had ever called her that before, but he had recently coined the term and she didn’t dislike it.

 Despite her frenzied train of thought, Kellie drew closer to him. She looked up, meeting his gaze.

 “I had—a nice time, too,” she said, a little breathy, because it was true. She wanted this; they just couldn’t have it.

 Shawn leaned his head down, angling toward her mouth. When she didn’t move away, he tilted his head and pressed his lips to hers. Kellie froze for a second. Then, feeling almost like she was watching things happen from across the room, she kissed him back, just for a moment. His lips were soft but firm and his hand on her elbow was warm and reassuring and—and then reality set in and she took a quick step back, almost sending a rack of magazines flying.

 “Sorry,” she stammered as she grabbed the rack. She wasn’t sure what she was apologizing for—something she’d done, or something she was about to do?

 But that had been that. She’d made an excuse about her Uber, quickly mumbled a goodbye, and left him standing in the airport gift shop staring after her like a lost puppy.

 Everything ok? he’d texted her a few minutes later. Then, Sorry if I shouldn’t have done that. Get home safe. See you soon? Xx

 Everything fine, have a good flight, Kellie answered from the backseat of her Uber. But she slid her phone back into her purse with a slightly sick feeling in her stomach.

 Things were moving too quickly all of a sudden and she didn’t want to get to the point where he confessed his feelings and wanted more, because judging based on the look in his eyes when he looked at her (and on the gentle pressure of his lips on hers), she was sure it was only a matter of time—and as much as she wanted more, too, she couldn’t have it. So Kellie pulled back. She let his phone calls go to voicemails and she answered his texts with brief responses that could barely be construed as polite and she said she had to work when he broached the idea of her coming to Toronto again (which was true, the work thing, but she wished more than anything she could get on a plane and go).

 And Shawn got confused. She could read the confusion in his texts filled with smiley-face emojis and question marks, see the bafflement in his knitted eyebrows when she cut FaceTime calls short, hear the confusion in his voice when he called and she answered but, instantly regretting her choice, said she couldn’t talk right then.

 Kellie didn’t blame him. She understood. She knew it was unfair of her to have let things go on like they did only to pull back so suddenly. But if she didn’t get out now, she’d be doing it later—so it was best for everyone to go ahead and get it over with.

 The last straw came about a week later.

 Hey, I kept my Sunday night open just for you. Want to FaceTime?

 Sitting cross-legged on her bed clutching a throw pillow, Kellie read the text and pushed a hand into her hair. They’d FaceTimed every Sunday night the past few weeks, and she used to look forward to it. But after everything that had happened the past week—everything she’d done—she didn’t think she could face that bright smile and those kind eyes again.

 Like she kept telling herself, this would never work out. It couldn’t—not with all of her issues. So it was only humane to end things now.

 I really appreciate being in your music video this summer but I think it’s going to be best if we keep this a professional relationship.

 His response—or, rather, responses—came immediately.

 What? Why?

 Kell I thought we were—

 Is this because I kissed you? I’m sorry

 Hey, we should talk about this. Can we talk?

 Then her phone screen was lighting up with his face. Incoming FaceTime from Shawn Mendes.

 Kellie declined the call, put her phone on airplane mode, and chucked her pillow angrily across the room. Throw pillow, indeed. Then, even though it was almost 9:00 on a Sunday night and she had work the next morning, she grabbed her car keys and ran down the stairs.

 Kellie didn’t know where she was going until she pulled up at the dance studio, parking in her usual spot. It was empty and dark, and she walked through the steamy Georgia air, slid her key into the lock, pushed open the door and fumbled around for the lights. She went into the biggest studio and turned on the lights; leaving them on the dimmest setting, she plugged her phone into the portable speaker by the wall and hit shuffle on her music.

 Of course, she thought ruefully when she heard the first chords, of course the first song to pop up would be one of his. For a moment she wanted to curl up in the fetal position under the barre and cry. But she didn’t let herself.

 Instead, as Shawn’s voice started to croon Maybe I’ve had too many drinks, Kellie danced. She leaped and twirled and jumped; she sailed across the floor, her body seemingly moving without any direction from her brain, to song after song, Shawn’s voice ringing through the empty studio with the lights of the city glowing outside.

 And when she finally unplugged her phone and walked silently outside to get in her car, she thought she had worked something out, that she felt better, was ready to move on with her life.

 But as she drove home through the muggy summer night, heat lightning crackling in the distance, she admitted the truth to herself. She hadn’t worked anything out at all.

 And if I have to, I'll wait forever Say the word and I'll change my plans Yeah, you know that we fit together I know your heart like the back of my hand

Baby, tell me when you're ready I'm waitin' Baby, any time you're ready I'm waitin'

Even ten years from now If you haven't found somebody I promise, I'll be around Tell me when you're ready I'm waitin', yeah

Taglist: @rosiemercy @learning-howto-be-myselfx3 @evibesss @tnhmblive (let me know if you want to be added/removed)