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glitterdustcyclops · 6 months ago

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fuck it i'm bored at work again, here's what i've got so far

Okay. So. I officially had a problem. Well, honestly, I had a bunch, but this one was a very particular problem, and I had no fucking clue what to do about it. It wasn't exactly something you could just google. At least not without ending up on some kind of FBI watchlist, anyway. Because the thing was, somehow, somewhere along the way, the whole “dressing up in a corset and lace panties to let Ethan spank me” thing had kind of turned into scrolling through accounts that posted about lolita fashion and quietly liking what I found.

I think, when I tried to figure out where it all went wrong, that it was probably, definitely, June's fault.

All those OOTD selfies she was always posting, that I dutifully liked because obviously I did, I was a supportive…err, boyfriend, I guess. And then The Algorithm had gotten its hooks in me, and my suggested posts had slowly morphed into a tidal wave of pink and frills. And you know what was the worst part about it? I didn't even think it was a sex thing this time. Late at night, when I was sleepy and therefore vulnerable, I had to admit to myself that actually, I kind of just liked the way the clothes themselves looked. And that maybe, I would want to wear them too.

In public.

Eep.

See, the idea of wearing a full-on lacy maid fantasy for Ethan to fuck me in felt, if not exactly normal, then at least understandable. All that delicious dirtyhotshame of making myself all girly and cute to let my hot beefy dom ruin it—that was practically elementary school kink. But this. This secret, shameful yearning to be…pretty just because I wanted to. I mean, that was basically asking to be hate crimed, wasn't it?

And as much as I was working on that whole “speaking honestly about my desires so my partners can have hot nasty kinky sex with me about them” thing, this still felt like a bridge too far. I mean, how did you even go about having a conversation like that?

Hey June, will you dress me up like a pretty little dolly for non-sexual reasons this time? And, I don't know, maybe also take pictures?

Gah. No. That sounded even more perverted. The whole thing was just fucking impossible. Which meant, of course, that I chose to repress it entirely instead. Because that had worked out so well for me before.

And maybe it would have, until that fateful day, when I so happened to have the entire weekend off and June had texted me to come over to Izzy's place because both her and Ethan were out of town for the weekend, and June was “bored as fuck.” It took me about two seconds, once she answered the door herself and let me in, leading me up to her office, to realize that I had been bamboozled. Tricked. Deceived by this wicked woman and her shenanigans.

“Uh, June,” I said, taking in the lace-covered carnage of her office. It looked like a bomb had gone off at a baby doll factory.

June at least had the decency to look briefly guilty. “Right. So, I may have forgotten to tell you that I totally have a lolita meetup going on today. And I'm having trouble deciding what to wear. Haha, whoops!”

I felt my eyes narrow at her. Didn't buy that one for a second.

“So you invited me over to watch you get dressed up to go hang out with other people?” And I extremely did not like the note of bitter jealousy in my voice then, but I figured she probably deserved it.

She deflated. “Right, I'm sorry, I'm a huge asshole. I can skip the meetup and we'll spend the day together like I promised.”

And then June got that look in her eye suddenly, the one I'd learn to associate with further shenanigans, and I tensed.

“Or. Well…”

“Well?”

“I mean, you could come with me?”

Yup. There it was.

“C-come with you?” I tried for nonchalance even as I felt my heart speeding up. “Uh. Why?”

“Well, just. I don't know. It might be fun? You're very cute and I wanna show you off to all my friends. Plus you could maybe even dress up, you know, if you wanted. Like, everyone would absolutely lose their minds about it if you did.”

“Dress up?” My voice had gone worryingly high at the end of that, but June was gracious enough to pretend she hadn't noticed.

“Yeah! Only if you felt comfortable doing it, of course. I just. I think you would be really fuckin cute dressed up in lolita.”

There was something about the vulnerable note in her voice right then. Her expression was doing its best to project careful neutrality, but the spark of hope in her eyes was unmistakable. And she had always known, hadn't she? From the first time I'd met her, she'd look at me with those deep brown eyes that saw right through me, into the deepest, darkest parts of me. Even if I hadn't even known they were there at the time.

In a weird way, it made me feel safe. Safe enough to finally say what I'd been keeping from her, and Ethan and Izzy, for weeks now.

“I mean, uh. This—it’s silly, but. Uh. Nobody will laugh at me, right?”

“Oh my gosh, no, of course not babe! My lolita group is super LGBTQ positive. You know if they weren't I wouldn't keep hanging out with them. Trust me, the girls will be obsessed with you.”

I wasn't actually sure if that would be better than bigotry, but I felt my resolve weakening. Why not, right? Wasn't that the first lesson she'd taught me? What's the worst that could happen?

Well, the asshole part of my brain piped up instantly, your fucking roommates could find out and then you'd have to kill yourself. Okay, that was pretty extreme. And unlikely. So I took another breath—for courage—and faced all that bright shiny hope in June's gorgeous eyes and I managed a nod.

“Fuck it, yeah. Okay. I w-want to. June, dress me up please.”

“Yay!” she practically squealed, clapping her hands together before pulling me into a ridiculous, lung-popping, bone-crushing, strangely comforting hug.

“Thank you for agreeing, Chris. I'm so glad. You'll totally love it, I promise!”

And with that, June was off like a shot. Before I could say anything else she had her phone out, and to my utter horror, she was calling someone else with it.

“June, wait, what—”

“Shh!” she shushed me. And then, to whoever was on the other end of the line, she said, “Oh my god, heyy Deedee, are you on the way? Good. Okay. No, yeah, I need like, a massive favor from you…”

There was a lot of giggling and breathlessly exchanged plans, and the next thing I knew, approximately five feet and two inches of ruffles and silver-blond hair were tumbling into the parlor of June and Izzy's swank little Art Deco mansion, looking hilariously out of place amongst all the exquisite white marble and elegant, modern furnishings.

“I think I brought some good stuff,” the pile was saying, and it turned out to be another woman. At least, I assumed it was a woman, but whoever this person was, they were presenting rather androgynously, with a tomboy body and a ratty band tee. Their hair was shaved down shorter than mine on the sides and several tattoos and piercings were visible all over their face and arms.

“You must be Chris, huh? I'm Dylan.”

Well. That wasn't much of a clue either, was it? I was still completely useless when it came to navigating the whole pronouns thing, but I figured I'd go with she until someone corrected me.

“Nice, uh, nice to meet you.”

“June said to bring blue, I can see why. It'll compliment your eyes. They're very pretty, by the way,” Dylan continued, with a wicked, calculating glint in her eyes that for a moment reminded me of Izzy. Honestly, the two of them could have almost been related, which was an…uncomfortable thing to think.

“Oh. Uh. Thank you,” I mumbled, already feeling like an idiot. Again.

Dylan cast a scrutinizing glance over me from head-to-toe while I just stood there in front of her, shuffling awkwardly like a nervous kid on stage. I couldn't help but wonder if what she found met her standards.

“Hmm,” was all she said, taking the pile of lace and ruffles and heading up the stairs back to June's disaster of an office without needing to be given directions. I stumbled off after her.

“Hey girly!” June called to her brightly once Dylan opened the door. The both of them were utterly unbothered, apparently, that June had already stripped out of her pjs, with one of her infinite number of pink silk robes thrown casually over her bare shoulders, and little else besides.

“Thank you so much for doing this, by the way. I knew you'd be just about the right size for him.”

“No problem. You like hella owe me though.” Dylan laughed, setting her pile down on the sofa, to join its pink-hued brethren strewn about the room.

“Naturally,” June winked at her. “Now Chris, let's get down to business!”

“Well, first things first, you gotta take all that off,” Dylan replied, without looking up from where she was starting to sort through Ruffle Mountain 2: Electric Boogaloo.

“I—”

“Oh, you don’t have to get completely naked, honesty,” June smirked at me. Evil. “Just don’t to your boxers, I think. Oh and ehre, you should borrow an undershirt too.”

She handed me a white tanktop, which I thought might have been one of Izzy’s, but it looked to be roughly the right size. Holding it made me blush, again, like the fucking idiot I was.

“Bathroom’s that way.”

“Thanks.”

So, still not quite sure exactly how I’d ended up in this situation, I took the shirt and stumbled into the adjoining bathroom to change. I was actually grateful for the privacy for a second. I could hear June and Dylan thorugh the door, giggling again, obviously gossipping about something Me, I assumed. And for a minute I just stood there, staring at myself in the mirror and trying to calm down. It was ridiculous to be freaking out right now. It was just clothes. My eye caught on the tanktop bunched in my hands on the counter, and I imagined Izzy. With her safe, looming presence that one time she had me try on a corset. The way she had looked at me, like I was something fascinating. An objectifying an experience, but in a weirdly comforting way. It had helped.

Before we faced the eventual heat death of the universe I forced myself out of the bathroom, with my arms crossed defensively over my clingy tanktop-clad chest, shivering a bit. I felt incredibly exposed all of a sudden. And not even in a sexy way. But June gave me a reassuring smile, before she made a show of comically leering at me, and that weirdly helped too. Dylan barely paid attention to me at all, too busy pulling out random pieces and scrutinizing them with a museum curator’s intensity, before shaking her head and flinging them back down again.

“Okay, so,” June began, her voice taking on a College Professor Lecturing tone. “Lolita One Oh One babes: layers are a must, of course. Normally you’d wear bloomers or shorts or something underneath your skirts, but since you’ve got your boxers I think that’ll work fine. We’ll pick out tights or socks once we’ve decided on your dress. For you first time I recommend a JSK, that’s the easiest to coordinate with, and you’ll want a blouse underneath it…”

I felt my eyes starting to glaze over, and the woman kept going on and on and on, while Dylan piped up to add unhelpful commentary and occassionally hold up some piece or other to me, before shaker her head and starting again. Who knew dressing up like a Victorian dolly on crack would be so fucking complicated?

“Wait!” June interrupted herself, flinging out a hand towards Dylan. “Stop. That. That one.”

Dylan was holding an interchangably ruffly garment, in a shade of pale powder blue, with a print on it that looked like something pulled from childhood storybook illustrations that the easter bunny puked all over. Ridiculous and excessive and hyper feminine and I felt such a powerful sensation of yearning for it that I paradoxically wanted to say no immediately. Like. I couldn’t just let myself have something like that, right?

But you know what, actually—fuck that. Neither June or Dylan seemed to think there was anything weird or wrong or shameful with me wearing a pretty lolita dress. In fact, they were both giving me encouraging, hopeful smiles. Like they were…excited for me or something.

“Hm, yeah. You’re right. What d’ya think Chris?” Dylan asked me.

“I-I don’t know…”

“Well why don’t you try it on, and then we can decide, yeah?”

Instead of having me shuffled back off to the bathroom so I could get dressed and panic in private, June guided me to stand in front of the floor-length mirror. Which you know, was probably the smarter descision, because I had no fucking clue what I was doing. Thus began the complicated ordeal of enscoscing me in a frankly ridiculous number of layers of ruffles and lace. There were petticoats involved. Plural. And when it was all said and done, there I stood, in blouse and jumperskirt (which was really just a dress without sleeves) and tights, feeling—well. Silly, and embarrassed, but. Something else too. I couldn’t help but remember the last time I’d been in a position like this, standing in front of a mirror while June played dress up with me, and heat settled on my cheeks. Of course, this time it was different. No less mortifying, sure, but it lacked that air of sizzling eroticism, when it was Izzy and June teasing me and touching me while they put a corset on me.

I squirmed uncomfortably under the extremely thorough gazes of June and Dylan.

“Ta-da!” June cried with a triumphant flourish.

“Damn, he looks pretty fuckin’ adorable,” Dylan said, with an approving smile.

The attention made me want to hide my face in my hands, but that would’ve been stupid and obvious.

“Oh, doesn’t he?” June replied, with obvious pride in her voice.

And fuck, that was even worse. Or maybe better. Or something.

Gah. Complicated, it was all complicated. I didn’t know what to do with my hands as I posed for their approval, and my stomach was a goddamn riot of bubbling nerves. And yet, there was a part of me that undeniably enjoyed this. That pride in June, the praise. Being pretty, and that being an okay thing for me to be. I mean, the thought of going out in public like this was a kind of overwhelming I didn’t think I was brave enough to really face, but in the safety of this private room it was…nice. Until my asshole brain started piping up again, that I looked like a fucking idiot and everyone would laugh at me—but before I could properly panic about that, Dylan made a noise, suddenly looking down at her phone.

“Oh shit, June, look at the time. We’re totally gonna be late.”

June just shrugged, utterly unhurried. “Here, you go get ready, I’ll help Chris with the finishing touches.”

“Yeah, okay. But don’t take too long, you know how Mari flips if people aren’t there on time.”

With that cryptic warning, Dylan excavated another dress from the lace carnage and hurried off to the bathroom, while June turned to look back at me. Appraising. I wondered if this is what the statues at a museum felt like.

“So. Babe,” she started, with careful softness in her voice. “Check in. How are we feeling about this?”

Oh right, of course. Even if this wasn’t a Scene™️ she was still gonna make me talk about my feelings. In a way, I did appreciate how careful she was about this. How careful Ethan and Izzy were too, about me and making sure I wasn’t being pressured into things I didn’t really want to do. Even if it was still really fucking difficult to actually talk about it, out loud, with my mouth.

“Umm,” I said, before I lost steam and trailed off. My attention was caught on the mirror again. I still couldn’t decide if I absolutely hated the way I looked right now, or if I really really enjoyed it, and which one would be worse. And other people will see me like this! My brain unhelpfully chimed in. But June and Dylan had gone to so much trouble in getting me dressed up. Wouldn’t I be a total jerk to falke out on them now? When we were already late, apparently.

“We’ve got plenty of time, if you need to change back into your other clothes,” June said. Because she always knew what I was thinking, didn’t she?

“I—” I took a quick breath. “No. I uh, uh. It’s—I like it.”

“Alright,” she told me, easy, and then gifted me with a soft kiss to my cheek. “As long as you feel beautiful, darling.”

Of course my asshole brain replied instantly with boys aren’t supposed to feel beautiful you fucking faggot, but it was getting a little bit easier to tell that voice to go fuck itself. Still, I felt the blush grow brighter, and I could only manage a stilted nod in return.

“Now. How are we feeling accessories-wise, hon?” June was back in lecture mode. “You can wear a wig, but that’s less of a strict requirement these days. And your curls are so gorgeous anyway. I mean, sometimes it’s fun to match the color of your hair to your outfit, but you know, it’s totes up to you.”

Wearing a wig was definitely approaching way too much territory. Plus, it sounded itchy.

“N-uh. Maybe not. Not this time.”

“Okay! Do you wanna wear a hairbow though? I think I have the matching one for that print, or maybe we could do a pink, or a cream, to pull in the accent colors? Hmm, c’mere.”

She beckoned me over towards the vanity on the opposite side of the room, under the window, which was covered in cosmetics and trinkets and a giant glittery pink tacklebox that opened to reveal an entire treasure trove of bows and ribbons and other sparkly kawaii bullshit. I was immediately overwhelmed in that “little kid looking through his mom’s jewelry box” kind of way—an experience that I certainly had no personal experience with, nuh-uh, nope, no way—and I felt the longing back in my eyes as I looked at all the stuff in there.

“Here, dig thorugh that, let me know if anything catches your fancy. I gotta get dressed too, unfortunately Mari frowns on people showing up to her lolita meets half naked.”

With a shameless giggle and a wink June shrugged off her robe and starting getting dressed. I tried very hard not to stare at her like a total creep—getting hard in someone else’s borrowed dress definitely would’ve felt super wrong—so instead I focused my attention on the horde of sparkles. There was. Gosh, a lot of crap. And I didn’t know, really, what to do with any of it, and that made me anxious again. Ridiculous, getting scared about a box of bows. But there was just something infinitely more terrifying about being the one to choose. It was way fucking easier when it was Dylan and June, or even June and Izzy, determining what they’d put me in.

Submissive, the asshole voice sneered at me.

After a few more seconds of pointless waffling I plunged in, and came up with a creamy-white bow on a headband. It was made of silk, with long, long tails and lace trim that had a really intricate heart pattern, and little dangling golden and pearl bits, along with a heart-shaped charm right in the center. Before I could psych myself out about it I turned to get June’s approval, and the smile she rewarded with gently obliterated my insides with heat. Like the full-force of the sun aimed at me.

“Yeah, that’s perfect babe. Let me know if you have any questions, or need any help.”

Eventually Dylan came out of the bathroom, and I was a bit startled for a moment, by her complete transformation. She was dressed in shades of pink and yellow, with a high-waisted skirt in an equally ridiculous print, this time pancake themed. She hadn’t bothered with a wig either, instead proudly showing off that dramatic edgy punk pixie cut of hers, all her tattoos and piercings proudly on display. She looked so different like this—and you wouldn’t have thought the combination of girly, frilly clothing and punk-rock hair would work, but it totally did.

June, of course, chose head-to-toe baby pink. And she did wear a wig, all cotton-candy fluff and bouncy curls, almost as big as her skirt. Seeing her like that, once she was fully dressed—it was less of a dramatic transformation than Dylan’s was, but there was still something just…different about this version of June. Lolita clothing was, ironically, a lot more modest than her normal outfits. All her curves were covered, and yet, there was nothing really demure about her like this either. It was an over-the-top kind of femininity, to the point ot almost seemed weaponized. Exaggerated to the point of absurdity; tooth-rottingly sweet.

In a way there was something almost punk-rock about it, I realized. A frily pink middle finger. Which, I guess it made sense why Dylan seemed to enjoy it as much as June did.

Dylan entertained herself taking pictures of the lace carnage strewn about while June applied her makeup with admirable efficiency. And even better, she didn’t say anything when I turned down her offer to apply some to me as well. Another flash of memory then: June and I in Izzy’s ridiculously luxurious bathroom, her hand craddling my jaw gently-but-securely as she applied bright red lipstick to my lips with intense concentration. So that Ethan could—right. None of that, not now. When she was finished her beautifying process, June stood towering over both me and Dylan in her pastel pink platform heels, festooned in ribbons and bows and sparkly heart earrings and glitter, and I just felt this absurd rush of affection for her. The way she could light up a room even dressed in something rridiculous. How she was so totally and completely, defiantly, herself, no matter what. Sometimes I wished I could take some of that infectious, sparkling confidence of hers and bottle it up for myself. Maybe that way I could be even half as self-assured as she was, instead of the stumbling nervous wreck I really was.

“Come on bitches,” June giggled, “we’re taking a selfie.”

We took a selife.

And then, after a few last-minute adjustments to rings and wigs, we finally piled into June’s car to head out to this Lolita Meetup. Just getting inside the vehicle was already a bigger ordeal than I initially would have imagined—each of us had enough poof to take up two seats on our own. But we managed.

“So, w-where are we going?” I asked, staring out the passenger side window and trying to calm myself down. It was just Dylan and June in the car, but I still felt inexplicably looked at. Explosed. Flayed almost. I focused my attention on breathing, on grounding myself in the feel of the car seat underneath my hands, the comforting pressure of the tanktop, close against my skin. That had been a brilliant idea, it was kind of like the corset. Or maybe a rope harness. A security blanket, of a kind.

Wow. That was definitely the most perverted thing I’d ever thought, and I felt the heat back in my face.

“There’s this totally adorably little B&B Mari’s mom manages,” June was explaining, “and they have a tea parlor too. She lets us have the big room in the back, for banquets and stuff, and after tea we usually go hang out at the park nearby. But we can totes leave before then, if you aren’t feeling it, kay?”

I nodded.

June “hmmed” thoughtfully, and then continued, “If you need to leave at any time, for any reason, you can say so. Just say red. Or…hmm. What’s a less inocuous safeword?”

“Pineapple?” Dylan piped up from the back, with a snarky laugh. I blushed impossibly brighter while June giggled merrily.

“Ha! Sure, that work for you sweetie?”

“P-pineapple. Okay.”

Dylan and June kept up a stream of idle chitchat as we drove on and I counted my breaths. Traffic being what it was on Saturday afternoon I wasn’t even sure if we would ever make it to this place, but it wasn’t before long we were pulling up to a charming Victorian-esque mini mansion, with a lush front garden bursting with blooming roses and a wooden sing that read “Arabella’s Place” in elegant cursive. Inside it was full-on grandma floral as far as the eye could see while tasteful classical music emenated gently from somewhere, and I could see a few scattered couples sitting at tables in the tea parlor, dressed in their Sunday best enjoying their tea.

“Hello, welcome in—oh,” said the hostess by the front entrane to the parlor. She was dressed in a pretty yellow sundress with a crisp white pinafore on top, and her placid Customer Service smile morphed into one of honest recognition as we approached. “The rest of the girls are in the back.”

“Thank you, Rylee,” June told her, sweetly, before gesturing for me and Dylan to follow.

I felt eyes on us as we walked through the parlor, and I forced myself not to wish I could just melt into the floorboards.

Separate from the open space of the parlor there was a second private room closed off by an intricately patterened glass-windowed folding door. The banquet hall or whatever it was, and it turned out to be full of a large table covered in a crisp white cloth and a full tea service, surrounded by an entire spectrum of feminine-shaped folks wearing similar styles of dresses to my little party. We had offically Arrived. And I didn’t spontaneously combut into flames of gay panic and shame, so that was probably a good sign. For a moment I just stood there, taking in the décor, the probably excessive amount of lace doilies covering every available surface, and the people.

Apparently, there were a lot of ways one could be a lolita. Several of them wore outfits in the same pastel shades as June, Dylan, and I, but there were others in darker, more gothic-looking styles, along with red tartans and rich navy blue and dusty floral vintage prints that matches the wallpaper around us. There was even someone not wearing a dress at all, instead they looked like an anime vampire boy-prince all in black and red, with fake fangs poking out of their painted blood-red smile, sitting next to a woman in a matching dress covered in bats, wearing a blood-red bob wig.

And every single one of them was staring at us—at me, lively conversation trailing off into awkard silence as I shuffled in awkwardly behind June.

“Hey guys!” she called, rushing in as brazenly as ever. “So sorry we’re late, but we brought a newbie! Everyone, this is Chris, my partner. Be nice to him because it’s his first time wearing lolita, okay?”

There were a few waves and murmured greetings and I very bravely did not turn around and bolt from the room.

“You look super cute!” someone shouted—one of the people residing in the dusty-florals segment of the lolita spectrum. Her smile seemed genuine, not mocking, but it still made me blush even more. Because of course it did.

“Uh. T-thanks.”

And then another woman, in what I thought looked like the lolita version of a sailor’s uniform, stood up and took charge. “It’s nice to meet you Chris, come in. We should do introductions. I’m Mari, she/her pronouns.”

Ah. The infamous Mari.

so i spent all of yesterday working on a very indulgent scene where one of my ocs, june, gently & lovingly encourages her new partner, chris, a repressed as hell bisexual femboy, to dress up in lolita to go with her to a meetup and it was a fucking fantastic time

#my stuff #oc talk #writing in chris's perspective is super fun because he is an absolute disaster #love that boy

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unbridgeabledistances · 3 years ago

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whipped up this little gallavich father’s day one-shot bc i woke up and had feelings!

(to everyone who has a complicated relationship to father’s day—know that i love u 💗)

tw for mention of dead parents / abuse (terry 🙄🙄)

***

It was quiet when they woke— it had been months, and Mickey could finally admit that he had gotten a little bit used to waking up to the silence and blinding sunshine, the light reflecting off of the shiny glass exterior of their neighbors’ apartment complex windows and the soft chatter of people sitting down below at the pool as the slow summer mornings turned into lazy afternoons.

He turned to face Ian, shifting under the plush duvet they were wrapped in tightly; usually summer heat meant sleeping in underwear and a pool of your own fucking sweat in the South Side, but this boujee-ass place had fucking air conditioning that blasted all night long— Mickey nearly wore a fucking sweats and a hoodie to bed the first hot summer day when they’d started blasting it in the place. Ian had just grinned, making fun of him for being dressed like he was about to climb Mount Everest, and had pulled him closer under the sheets to wrap him in warmth.

Mickey rubbed at his eyes, reaching for his phone and clicking it to see the time. 7:52, the asscrack of dawn on a Sunday morning as far as he was concerned. No wonder Ian was still sleeping.

He had a couple of notifications— a few texts from Sandy, livetweeting when she was out last night and probably drunk out of her mind at some gay bar she’d started going to on the West Side at Ian’s recommendation; while Mickey had resisted those expensive-ass hipster beers at every fucking turn, Sandy had been coming by his and Ian’s place a lot more these days, and Ian had kept convincing them to all go out at the boujee queer spots along the block. Whatever— so what if he blew $9 on a fucking IPA that tasted like fucking battery acid? Ian loved it, Sandy loved it more, and he could afford to spend a few nights at some hipster-ass bar with his cousin and his husband hanging off his hip. He could do that shit now.

He scrolled through some emails, trying desperately to tune out the work bullshit and ignore the unread emails in his inbox— he and Ian had been making bank lately, the business growing more than ever especially now that COVID restrictions were all but nonexistent and people were ready to fucking party. He and Ian definitely spent more hours than not attached to their fucking Gmail app, scrolling through new requests and niche demands from growers; but they’d agreed that weekends were off-time, and talking about work was strictly forbidden. “Weekends are husband time, not co-worker time, Mick.”

Even so, Ian was still sleeping, and Mickey didn’t know what else the fuck to do until he woke up— he filtered idly through the inbox, then opened Instagram and started scrolling mindlessly, through pictures of his few dipshit cousins and their new gun purchases and questionable tattoo choices.

It was then when he saw the picture that V had just posted: a black-and-white photo of Kev and the girls, sitting at some sidewalk restaurant in Louisville.

To the papa bear of my amazing girls. Happy Father’s Day.

Fucking Father’s Day.

It’s not like Mickey didn’t know when Father’s Day was— it was more that its occurrence was knowledge that he passively avoided. The only time he remembered knowing when the fuck it was was in elementary school, when they’d been forced to draw colorful cards for their dads on thick sheets of construction paper. He’d drawn a fucking cool one for Terry, with scribbles of skulls and snakes and a picture of him and Mandy. He remembered clutching it tight between his fingers the walk home from school that Friday, and immediately shoving it deep into his backpack when he returned home and it was one of the bad days, the days filled with screaming and sobbing and him and Mandy huddled together in his bed.

“Hey, you okay?” Ian’s arm was snaking around Mickey’s waist under the blankets—a heavy weight, welcoming the air back into Mickey’s lungs.

Mickey reached over to ruffle Ian’s hair. “G’morning, sleepyface.”

Ian’s eyes searched Mickey’s face, then squeezed tightly shut as he yawned. He leaned to rest his head on Mickey’s shoulder, a dull weight on his chest.

“You know it’s Father’s Day?”

Ian craned his neck back again to meet Mickey’s eyes. “Huh.”

From his pensive gaze, Mickey could tell that the realization stunned Ian in the same way it had hit him. “Yup.”

They were silent. Ian reached his arm aimlessly under the covers, searching for Mickey’s hand— intertwining their fingers.

“It’s fucking weird, man.”

Ian breathed out a silent laugh of relief, a gust of air through his nose. “Was just thinking the same fucking thing. I could hate Frank on Father’s Day when he was alive, talk all the shit I wanted— seems kind of hard to do now that’s he’s gone.”

Mickey pressed his lips together. “Yeah.” The heavy feeling—the loss, the dread, was still heavy in his chest, beating next to where Ian’s head was resting. “Homophobic that this shit is during pride month, anyways. Don’t they know all the gays have fucking daddy issues?”

Ian snorted—and they laid there, breathing. Ian’s thumb started to trace a pattern on Mickey’s inner palm— soft, slow. “What d’you wanna do today?”

“I don’t know, man. A distraction would be nice. Can’t fucking scroll through Instagram without thinking about my dead dad, kind of a fucking mood kill.”

Ian laughed. “Yeah.” He took in a breath. And then:

“I know I keep talking about the kid shit. But I can’t stop thinking about when today will be, like. Exciting for us. Someday. Y’know?”

Mickey felt something lurch in his chest—he didn’t really know what it was. He and Ian had been talking about the kid thing— Ian dropping hints here and there, Mickey giving his wary consent that he’d tell Ian when he was ready. And now—this.

There was gonna be a day, some day—when Father’s Day didn’t feel like the hardest goddamn thing in the world anymore. Even after a lifetime of bad ones.

Mickey felt the beginning of tears pricking in his eyes—stupid, stupid.

“Yeah, man. Guess so.”

#zo u really keep inspiring me to write ficlets about social media content lol #i hope u all enjoy the softest boys <3 #i haven't even had coffee yet lol so who knows if this is coherent!!!#gallavich #gallavich fic #shameless #shameless fic #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #ian x mickey

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y0itsbri · 3 years ago

Note

hii bri, how are you? 🥰

how do you think ian and mickey spent their weekend? ☀️

hello twisha my beloved 💞 i am well thank you ☺️

(thank you for the ask, this got kinda long oops)

ian started out saturday morning with a quick jog around the neighborhood. he easily could have spent the weekend morning sleeping in late and snuggling with mick, but they had plans for the day so ian wanted to start off the day with his normal routine.

he picked up smoothies on his way back from his run, a 'berry good' workout smoothie with added kale and protein for himself and a peanut butter banana chocolate smoothie for mickey.

mickey was already awake when ian got back. well 'awake' was a strong word, given that he was wearing his blanket like a cape while waiting for the coffee to brew with half closed eyes. he perked up a little bit as the door locked close behind ian. ian set the smoothies on the counter and gave mickey a lingering hug and forehead smooch because he's too irresistibly cute in the mornings.

they have a chill morning sitting out on their balcony until debbie comes over to drop off franny around noon. over the past few months, franny had gotten really interested in her uncle ian's gardening and he promised to take her somewhere real cool this weekend.

debbie and ian chatted by the doors while franny enthusiastically showed uncle mickey a super cool rock she found yesterday and mickey told her about how he knows this 'dinosaur guy' who has some super cool rocks that they keep in a museum. franny asks if the dinosaur guy wants her rock for the museum and he tells her he'll ask him next time he sees him.

they pack some snacks in a backpack and head off to garfield park conservatory. they were a little out of their element but they got their tickets for all the exhibits. ian's expression matched franny's in its awestruck wonder as they took in the sights. mickey and ian took turns taking pictures of each other and the flowers in a very 'tourist mom' fashion. franny insisted taking a picture of them together and directed them exactly where to stand. mickey stuck his tongue out in the photo and got reprimanded by franny who insisted they smile, almost a mirror image of her mother's attitude. mickey smiled in the next photo, but ian leaned over to kiss mickeys cheek. franny threw her arms up in frustration and they finally complied. ian lifted franny on his shoulders for the rest of their time at the conservatory.

franny fell asleep eating goldfish crackers on the drive back to their apartment. mickey gently picked her up and carried her inside, setting her on their bed to nap while he and ian started making dinner: french fries, chicken strips, and apple slices. they cracked jokes with each other and one of ian's belly laughs woke up franny who ran into the kitchen, crashing into his legs and hugging him. he told fran to pick out a movie to watch while they ate dinner.

franny is well equipped with using disney plus, so she put on 'luca.' they all settle into the couch and eventually settle into each other once they had finished eating, franny making her way onto uncle mickey's lap with ian's arm around mick as well. one of mickey's fingers traced ian's wrist before linking along with his fingers. ian spent half the time watching the movie and half the time staring at his enchanted husband.

after the movie finished, fran turned around to look at them and asks uncle mickey if he had been crying. he denied it but ian and franny shared a knowing look. ian affectionately squeezes his shoulder while franny gets herself some oreos from the kitchen while they wait for debbie to come pick her up.

ian and mickey spend the rest of their night drinking some new beer ian had picked up at the liquor store and watching sitcoms to relax and relieve the big emotions that came from the kid's movie.

sunday morning was spent in mickey's favorite way, sleeping in late with his husband. the soft warmness of each other and the blankets covering them being pure bliss.

mickey popped some frozen waffles in the toaster for breakfast while ian turned on the tv to catch some of the morning news. it's kind of a gloomy day outside, but that's okay because it's their cleaning and grocery shopping day anyways. ian had followed in fiona's footsteps by making sundays chore days... whenever he felt like it at least.

mickey swept the floors and did laundry while ian wiped down the countertops and made sure the dishwasher was loaded. mickey bitched about one of their neighbors from down the hall, but then revealed that said neighbor had invited them to their barbeque down by the pool next weekend. mick had said he would have to make sure ian didn't have any plans. even though he was content with the friends he had, ian was proud that mickey had become more amenable to the idea of hanging out with new people sometimes.

now that they regularly shop at a nicer grocery store, ian had been determined that they eat better. but somehow, every time they go shopping, they end up with half a cart of frozen meals and snack foods. there's not much complaining because that shit is good. it is what it is.

the other week, ian had picked up a guitar on sale from the music shop next to his yoga studio. both ian and mickey had been fucking around with it in their free time. this evening, mickey tried teaching ian what he knows about guitars, but it went a lot like how it went in friends when phoebe tried to teach joey guitar.

eventually, mickey ended up on the balcony for a smoke while he scrolled through instagram, seeing a new post of mandy in some fancy sunglasses and palm trees in the background. he double taps and comments some dumb shit knowing mandy is probably rolling her eyes at him from a thousand miles away.

ian was just getting off facetime with lip and freddie when mickey comes back inside. ian tells him about all the cute shit that freddie has been up to lately and lip's success at his new part time job where he mentors kids interested in robotics and coding. ian also mentions that carl is stopping by after his late shift so he can bring them takeout for dinner from their favorite asian restaurant on the south side.

they ate their stir fry, spring rolls, and crab rangoons with the house's specialty sauce as carl complained about his new partner and mickey muttered an 'acab' under his breath before ian kicked him in the shin.

after carl left, the boys headed to the bathroom for a rather spicy shower and then laid in bed watching tiktoks with ian's head resting on mickey's chest as they fell asleep. 🖤

#i just realized i kinda skipped lunch for both days but like imagine it's there lol #grumpymickmilk #ask #my posts #shameless #gallavich #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #franny gallagher #carl gallagher #lip gallagher #freddie gallagher #ian x mickey #debbie gallagher

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akaashisupremacy · 3 years ago

Text

How to Find Love

Summary: Iwaizumi is on a quest to find love with an old friend. What can he do to get there?

Iwaizumi x fem!reader/Oc || Read it on A03

Genre : romance, friends to lovers

Hajime Iwaizumi ran into the cafe, eyes wide and panicky. “I’m already twenty minutes late for the date.”

As he composed himself before he entered the place, he took a deep breath. He was determined to enjoy this date because it might be their last. Hiromi had never taken lateness kindly.

“Gomen, the meeting ran longer than expected,“ he said, nodding his head into a bow, too embarrassed to meet her eyes, “I’m so sorry.”

She looked up from her books with a weary smile. Beside her was a pile of four or five books, some of which were beginning to yellow, meticulously tabbed with colorful post-its.

“You still made it,” she said, closing her book “I usually walk out if my date was a full hour late.”

It was a Thursday. She had an afternoon at the library while he had an early off (if it wasn’t for his work meeting). Neither of them worked traditional 9 to5 jobs. He began to wonder if seeing each other would be easier if they did. Iwa was leaving on a Friday for Osaka for the rest of the weekend. He was a physical trainer for a professional volleyball team, which meant that he travelled with them during their season.

They called for a menu and began to order what would be their dinner.

“How’s work?” he asked, surveying her through the menu.

“It’s a lot of reading,” she gestured towards her stack of books, “But we’re at the beginning of a new research-heavy campaign so it’s normal. How about you?"

“Mmm…it’s still the start of the season so most of the team is quite healthy. Some of them are a little excited so we’re just trying to reign them in to keep them from straining themselves.” he said, thumbing through the pages.

He had settled for a hamburg curry rice while she had gone for a bowl of tuna pasta. She looked distracted.

“What’s up?” he asked, leaning into the table now that the niceties were done with.

“I like my job. I like my team. But why do I feel like I’m just grinding day in and day out." she sighed, resting her chin on her books, “There’s got to be more in adult life than this."

“You’ve got to find the reason out on your own because your employer won’t do it for you. Not that I’m qualified to give advice or anything.” he said, looking up from his drink.

“I know,” she murmured, her head rested between her folded arms “It’s just so difficult to find the energy for it sometimes.”

Iwaizumi nodded. He knew what she meant. No one job could fulfill all his desires for accomplishment. He liked his job, but it wasn’t a perfect job. He wished that he didn’t need to spend so many weekends away from home.

Man, this date was sobering.

“You sound burnt out. Maybe take it slower at work?” he quirked his head to match the angle of hers.

“What is it that you want to do that you’re not doing for work?” he asked. Despite less than a year in the workforce, she already looked so glum.

She pulled herself up and swept her books aside, “I don’t know to be honest. Within the next two years, I just want to be published in other big publications. It doesn’t have to be necessarily on food, more like the stuff I write for fun. The stuff I’m willing to freelance while I have a day job, y’know?”

“Like what?”

Their order had arrived. She stabbed her fork into her pasta and gently twirled it around.

“The New York Times has a column called Modern Love where you write a long essay about some type of love. It doesn’t have to be romantic. It can be platonic, familial, or even failed love as long as it is set in modern day. I’ve been meaning to write about my failed relationships.” she said thoughtfully.

Iwa choked on his first spoonful.

“Well, if this doesn’t work out, I can at least write about it. Get three hundred dollars and buy you dinner to thank you for the experience.” she laughed drily.

“Are you always this pessimistic on your first dates?” he coughed, taking a sip of water “Either ways, I’m glad to be of help.”

She perked up a bit and grinned. Her whole face lit up when she smiled. A wave of warmth washed over him.

“Send me a copy when you get published.” he added, “I want to see what you write about me.”

“I’m definitely going to writet that you were late on the first date.” she said without skipping a beat. She was grateful that they had chosen this cafe. There were not too many people even if it was dinner time, yet the ambient noise that filled the air kept their pauses from being too silent.

Iwa stopped eating and squinted his eyes at her, “You are not gonna let me live this down, huh?" She winked at him with a glint in her eye. He smiled in response.

He couldn’t care less about what the New York Times was but she was evidently fascinated by it. He wasn’t going to own up to uncultured swine he was on a first date. He had already been late.

“Anyways tell me more about this Modern Love.” he settled back into his dinner.

She pulled out her phone and began typing, “The Modern Love column came out with questions to help get to know someone. This could be a fun date activity.”

“Sure, you want to give it a go?”

She shoved the phone in his face and scrolled through the questions. “There are three sets of questions. Each set more intimate than the last. You can choose from the first set.”

Iwa lightly held the phone, his fingertips grazing the back of her hand. He chose the first question that caught his eye.

“Number 4. What would constitute a ‘perfect’ day for you?” he read out loud. Hiromi took her phone back and read the question to herself.

“What’s your answer?” she asked.

“I just got back, I hadn’t figured out what a perfect day would be like here.” he shrugged sincerely.

She snorted loudly, “What a cop out answer!”

Iwa looked up and thought for a bit, “A day spent walking around in the city…maybe a day that starts with a morning jog and a hot unrushed breakfast after. Catching up with friends sounds good too.”

Hiromi nodded. She was fully absorbed as he talked. It was like she was going through the scenes of his day in his mind as he described them.

“What about you?” he asked, snapping out of her out of her reverie.

“A day at the market,” she said quietly. ”Any market day is a good day really.”

“To be honest, it doesn’t depend on the activities so much at times. The people you’re with is definitely important. A day at the market can still be terrible with the wrong company.” she added.

“I wasn’t subpar last weekend, was I?” he asked.

“No...you weren’t.” she replied a little more shyly than usual.

They moved onto the next question.

“What roles do love and affection play in your life?” she read out loud, “Doesn’t have to be romantic again.”

Iwaizumi inhaled sharply. That was such a loaded question.

“If you’ll use this for an article and it gets published, you better buy me dinner someplace nice.” he tutted.

“Then make this one good.” she smirked.

Iwaizumi stopped eating for a few minutes to think through the question. Before he answered, he closed his eyes and breathed out slowly.

“It defined my entire career in volleyball. My best friend and I watched a game and we kind of chose to go into the same school team after that because we were both so obsessed with the sport. Our connection was almost telepathic. We barely used signals when it was just the two of us. We basically ran off instinct.” said he softly, his eyes reminiscing a different time.

“Although we went our separate ways after high school, I spent so much time in volleyball that it defined a huge part of who I was too. I mean, if I didn’t play volleyball, I would probably be in another sport, but I’d still think I’d be different, y’know?”

You could tell he was avoiding the word “love.” Iwa was not one to be vulnerable.

“In college when I was in my first serious relationship, it was the type of love that gave me confidence and assurance. But I guess it wasn’t enough…for me to say it deeply impacted my later choices on career and other decisions, unlike volleyball.”

“I can’t help but feel that any defining…relationship I have romantically will be weighed against with my time with volleyball…my first real love…" he tried to laugh it off, but you felt the weight off his words, “And I’ve been lucky enough to have enough love in my life that I don’t need to constantly be in a relationship to feel complete.”

A moment of silence fell in between the two.

“That’s a lot to heap on a relationship.” she whispered in contemplation.

Iwa awkwardly scrambled for damage control, “…no pressure.” was all he managed to say.

“So why try to date? When it’s so tough to find someone who can match up with volleyball?” she asked.

“Companionship?” he shrugged, “It’s still nice to date around.”

“And you’re…nice. I’ve been wanting to date you since we were in college. I’ve liked you for a long time…” his entire face flushed pink.

Her eyes fluttered wide open. Since college? Is he serious?

“Our friends were right,” she said in a hush, “You did have a thing for me. I thought they were just teasing us.”

“You had a boyfriend back then and when you broke up with him, I was seeing someone else.” he exhaled, looking her earnestly in the eye, “Wasn’t it obvious to you?”

Iwaizumi couldn’t tell if Hiromi just didn’t want to speak or was too busy contemplating. She was too stunned to speak.

“It felt like fate seeing you on the plane.”

A million things were going through her mind, she slowly opened her mouth, “Now that we’ve been on two half dates, what’s it like? Is this what you’d thought it would be?”

“College is very different from now, but the short answer is yes.” he nodded, rolling his shoulders back. “Everything just clicks. I’m so comfortable with you. It’s so easy for us to talk. I like you just as much as I did in college…I just really like you. Time hasn’t changed that at all.”

Hiromi looked overwhelmed. She was unable to look him in the eye. She was barely getting to know him romantically and he had long been decided about his feelings for her.

“Do you wanna ask if they sell alcohol here? You look like you need a drink.” he joked. Hiromi didn’t look like she heard him.

"This is so intense for a first date.” she shook her head in what seemed like regret.

“We can stop,” he gently interjected, “We can talk about something else.”

She finally looked up to him and whispered, “Hajime, you’ve just dumped a lot of pressure on me.”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to do that,” he smiled apologetically, “Anyways, I’m aware that we’re both at different…stages of attraction. Besides, I think this would be way more awkward if we both were pining.”

“Wouldn’t that be sweeter?” she asked.

“Way too sappy for me.” he waved with his hand. Hiromi let out a small chuckle. Iwa secretly sighed in relief.

——————————————————————————— After dinner, they headed to the arcade to blow off some steam. Iwaizumi offered to carry some of her books to which he somewhat regretted. Her books were like rocks. How the hell was she lugging them on her own in the city?

“I could carry them on my own if it’s too heavy.” she offered.

Iwaizumi looked at her incredulously. She was at least half a foot shorter and much smaller in build. His biceps weren’t going to buck in front of her.

They wandered around the arcade for a bit, unsure what to do first. Iwa silently prayed they didn’t have to do any dancing. Just when they were about to decide on the claw machine, Hiromi pointed towards a small karaoke booth at the corner of her eye.

“Let’s go in there.” she tugged at his jacket.

Iwaizumi flipped through the songs. None of them seemed to be in Japanese. All of them were in English.

“Did you pick up a default english karaoke song?” she asked, browsing through the catalogue. The room was clearly designed for kids. It was so small their knees touched and Iwa could barely sit up without hitting his head on the ceiling.

“Nah,” he shook his head, “I don’t really sing…in English. Any suggestions?”

Hiromi typed in the number of a song.

“I’m about to introduce you to your first usable English karaoke song.” she grinned at him mischievously. Iwa looked at her suspiciously.

The opening notes started to play—some acoustic guitar and a trumpet. The song sounded…Mexican? For the longest time there were no lyrics on the screen. Hiromi swayed to beat as her eyes were glued to the screen. When the song finally began to hit what sounded like the chorus, the music paused for a second.

“TEQUILA!” she yelled into the mic.

Iwaizumi was so startled he jumped up and hit his head on the ceiling. Hiromi was giggling uncontrollably.

“That’s it?!” he exclaimed.

“Yeah,” she laughed, pressing the mic towards him, “You try on the next chorus.”

When the trumpets began playing, Iwa readied himself. The song hits its familiar pause soon enough and he pulls the mic closer to his lips.

“Tequila?” he said tentatively.

“With more conviction, Hajime!” she urged, taking back the mic. On the third chorus, she moved closer to him so they could share the mic.

The music hits its third pause, they looked at each other and yelled, “TEQUILA!”

They both grinned and laughed, almost as if the act of singing about alcohol was like a drink in itself. He could feel her shins pressed against him as she continued to sway for the music. A glint in her eye flickered as she nudged him to dance along with her.

Iwaizumi wasn’t going to refuse. Especially not on their first date. He swayed what he could on the tiny box while the song lasted.

————————————————————————— At the end of the night, they both sat in the train waiting to get off on their respective stops. The carriage shuttled back and forth, pushing and pulling their bodies back and forth into each other.

“Hajime,” she tapped him on his shoulder, “We didn’t finish the last set. Let’s do a quick one before I get off.”

He nodded, “Pick one we can answer with just one word.”

Hiromi swiftly browsed the list, before looking up.

“Finish the sentence, ‘Right now, we are both feeling…’"

Their faces were both so close they could feel the heat of each other’s breath. The back of their hands were touching, but neither dared to reach out or pull away.

“Hopeful.” whispered Hiromi, an evident earnestness in her voice. She was fighting off her shyness just long enough to look him in the eye when she talked.

Iwa smiled, “Smitten.”

Before she could react, the train jolted as it shuffled towards her station.The train stopped at Hiromi’s station and she got up from her seat, taking the books from Iwa’s arms.

He followed her to the exit and watched her as she got off. She gave a small wave from the platform while she watched the doors closed.

Iwa was tempted to press his hands onto the window, unwilling to end their time for the evening. His last sight of her was her smile when the train plunged itself into the night.

“Did he start out his day at the market with a morning jog?” she asked herself, watching the train swiftly pull away.

Iwaizumi took a deep breath. The night had gone differently from how he thought the date would proceed. For one thing, he didn’t expect to confess so early into the relationship.

He took his phone and curiously googled the questions she mentioned.

It turns out the title of the New York Times article was not “Questions to Get to Know Your Date” as Hiromi had led him to believe. Instead, it was titled, “Thirty Six Questions That Lead to Love”.

“Huh,” he said to himself. He shut off the screen to his phone.

36 was too much. In his opinion 3 was enough.

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

This is part 3 of a series on Iwa living in Tokyo after he moves back from California. Comment or message to be added to the taglist.

Also, I’ve been feeling quite down lately, so say some nice things if you feel like it in the comments 😬✌️

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4

Series taglist: @itstheee-ha-chan

#iwazumi fluff #iwaizumi imagine #iwaizumi x you #iwaizumi hajime 27 athletic trainer #iwaizumi hajime #hajime iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi hajime x you #iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi x oc #seijoh x reader #haikyuu fanfiction #hq fanfic #hq x oc #haikyuu x oc #iwaizumi scenarios #iwaizumi series #hq fluff #hq imagines #hq scenarios

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boymeetsparadise · 4 years ago

Text

masterlist

contains and mentions: female reader x jung hoseok/ female reader x kim taehyung.

>language, break ups, angst, anxiety, brief mention of a loved one’s passing, alcohol, children. exes to strangers au, (please let me know if i missed anything)

Word count: 2k

an: i had the sad music playing, its one of those moments.. this came to mind and hopefully you all enjoy! angsty hobi? tragic but sign me up! (◠‿◠)

listened to while writting: 2 soon - keshi

A weary sigh left your lips as you toed off your shoes, a soft nudge to close off the door as your hair fell down your back from having been up all day. A late night at work and you finally had the weekend to look forward to, it dawned that your energy wasn’t the same as before. You worked from home most of the time unless it was a big project or a mistake had been made, then you’d spend hours away from home. Rare but dreaded.

The small apartment was quiet as the soft patting of your tired feet on the wooden floors brought back life. Bag set on the dining table, you looked over into the kitchen as the under cabinet stove hood glowed into the dark home, leftovers waiting. You opted to eat it at room temperature, trying to keep the silence aside from the soft drags of cutlery. Washing dishes could wait until the morning as you made sure the windows were properly locked around your home.

The soft thuds of clothes hit the floor before you let out another sigh. Arms around yourself, massaging your sore neck before changing and letting the soft, cool material of your pajamas welcome you even further. Doors and wooden floor panels softly creaked before you slid into bed, another sigh as you stared at the ceiling, dinner finally settling. You reached over to your phone on the nightstand, mindlessly scrolling through your social media. Looks like a high school acquaintance got married, double-tap, and type out a quick congratulations with excessive emojis. Your cousin posted a selfie and she looks breathtaking, double-tap, and comment that you miss her. You continued for a few more posts, catching up on the people around you. A tired yawn and you were giving in to sleep. A small stretch and click of the phone, you turned over, a small smile on your lips.

Only a couple minutes in before your eyes shot right open. Your phone was on low volume but the vibrations had it motoring across the small table. Probably a late-night telemarketer as you couldn’t quite recognize the phone number. A spam risk? You pressed the accept button, whispers ready.

“Hello?” There was a small gasp.

“[Y/n]” and then a small sigh of relief.

You sat up in bed immediately, shock and confusion written all over your face.

“Hoseok?” You whispered, questioning whether or not it was really the voice.

“Yes!” He sighed, “It’s me..” He bit his bottom lip as his index finger mindlessly circles the finish of the glass bottle. To him, it felt so good to hear your voice again and he thanked his angels above for remembering your number.

You sat up in bed, wide awake with a sudden pang in your heart. Silence followed as you tried to find the words to say. There wasn’t any- so serious yet awkward as it used to be so easy to talk to one another.

“Long time huh?” Hoseok let out a nervous chuckle as he adjusted his phone. “How have you been?”

“I’ve been..” You paused, and quickly pulled away to glance at the time, what was going on? “It’s two a.m, why?”

“It’s late I know. But I just had to call. I had to just hear your voice again.” He pleaded. You rolled your eyes, he wouldn’t know that though.

“But why?”

“Can’t I just call to catch up?” He played casually.

“No.” You snapped at his attempt as your mind began to wander at his intentions.

“I couldn’t sleep. I thought I should call you.” He confessed.

“It’s been-”

“I know how long it’s been.” He cut you off. “But you were always the best remedy.”

You sighed, his words sending another chill down your spine.

“I tried to hard to find your number, I thought you would’ve changed it.” Silence. “Relieved that I’m not blocked.” He tried to chuckle but failed awkwardly. You don’t tell him that you just unblocked his number about a year ago because the missing contact name confused you.

“Let’s just talk.” He licked his lips, adjusting in his seat. “How are you? How’s your dad?” He tried, hands shaky.

“He passed last November.” You deadpanned.

“Oh…” Hoseok felt a wave of guilt. “I’m sorry.”

“I am too.” You’ve missed a lot Jung Hoseok.

Another moment of silence followed.

“...Cut to the chase Hoseok” You ran your free hand through your hair again, looking over your shoulder, “Why’d you call?”

“I think you know why [Y/n]..”

“ I don’t know anymore.” You paused. “You don’t call someone up at two am after you haven’t been able to do so for over three years.”

“I’ve missed you. And I’ve realized how much of an idiot I am.” He played with the bottle some more.

“You had three years Hoseok.” You stared off into the distance of your dimly lit room, the moon shining in through a small crack in the curtains.

“And I regret not calling sooner.” He let his head fall, tears burning his eyes.

“Have you been drinking Hoseok?”

“Would that matter?” He cocked a brow.

“Considering you could never be honest with me when sober, yes.” For a moment you felt like you had gone back in time, a younger you picking up the phone because she had yet another fight with her boyfriend and he called to apologize like always. At three am as his lips slurred the truths he wished he would say while sober, but you knew that already.

You’d believe every word and then he would stumble to your place, pebbles at your window before you let him in, embracing each other as you sat on your roof, looking at the sky.

“I’ve changed.” He rubbed his eyes, drunk sincerity in every word he spoke. “So much.” He sighed. “And I’ll never be sorry enough on that it took me so long to do so.”

“It shouldn’t have taken years.” You shook your head. “I’m sorry but I don’t see the point in tonight’s-”

“Can I come see you?” His voice was shaky. “Just this once, please? I have so much I want to say.” Another desperate sigh, “And I want to do this face to face.”

“Hobi-” You shuttered from letting his old nickname slip.

“You still stay in the same place right? I’ll be there in 15.” He downed a prepared shot, eyes wandering for his jacket- ready to head out. You took a deep breath, a soft cry could be heard across the hall.

“Hoseok stop.” You swung your legs off the edge of the bed, the anxiety making you fidget.

“Let me stay the night. I’ll leave in the morning, I swear.” He tried to convince you and himself, his mind blocking out sounds that weren’t you. “Just let me be in the same space as you. Please?”

“You had time Hoseok.” Pity in your tone, you continued, “You won’t remember this in the morning.” Too distracted to feel the movement on the other side.

“I can come by in the morning if I can’t right now... How does nine am sound?” He bit the inside of his cheek, avoiding your pleads. “Would that be fine?’

“Listen-”

“I can pick up your favorite muffins and we can talk over some coffee-” Hoseok tried.

“Hoseok.” You repeated, tears ready to slip at any moment as he heard the crack in your voice, his heart breaking with it.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you. Trust me I tried so hard to forget. To move on. But I couldn’t. I can’t.” Another heavy sigh.

“Stop it.”

“Just a bit of time, please. I know it isn’t fair of me to ask this of you. I’ll always be that selfish but I can’t help it. I have to ask for more. I’m sorry.”

“You missed so much. I’ve-”

“Please. At least let me see you for the last time.”

“Three years.” You reminded him, it hurt so bad.

“I know.”

Another silence. Memories of you two flashed in your mind. Moments of joy and love now hurt so much, pushed away to the depths of your mind, buried underneath new ones.

“I have to go.”

“Please don’t hang up.” His voice broke.

“I have to. Please don’t call again.”

“I’ll call every day. I’m serious.” He spoke, his free hand rubbing at his burning eyes. “I want another try at us. I’m tired of the games I played. I’ve changed and I’ll prove that [Y/n].”

“Don’t do this.”

“Don’t you love me anymore?” Hoseok’s vision went blurry. “It doesn’t matter how long it’s been, true love will always come back to one another.” He tried to reason as the grip on his phone tightened.

“I don’t love you anymore.” You jumped right in, cutting him off from rambling any further, teeth clenched. “Don’t start spewing your bullshit when you’re the one who walked out on me Hoseok. We could’ve had it all but you fucked up. I got tired of waiting and hoping. Obviously this isn’t true love if it took you this long to realize. I found my happiness Hoseok.”

You were bitter. Fed up. You sat, heavy breathing, the man who once gave you butterflies was now asking for pity and forgiveness as if that wasn’t a constant in your time together.

“You don’t mean that.” Hoseok pleaded. “Please.”

“I do and you’re drunk Hoseok. Bye.”

“[Y/n]-”

“You’ll find someone one day, and you’ll thank me for this.” Your eyes fluttered shut as you pulled the phone away.

Hoseok’s lip started to quiver, his calls were always enough and now you were here ready to hang it up for good.

“Baby?”

Hoseok raised his brows, eyes wide with confusion. Was there someone with you? Should he hang up?

“Sorry love, I tried my best to put them back down to bed but I think someone misses their mommy.” Your lover pouted as he made his way over to you. He avoided mentioning he’s been awake since he heard you come home, the muffles of the other line peaking his interest.

Hoseok let his tears fall like an overflowing sink. He recognized that voice. The voice of someone he once considered an old friend, now calling you baby. Did you have a child?

“It’s fine.” You took your head with a slight grin, taking the infant in your arms as he sat down next to you. The smalls cries halted as they recognized your motherly scent. “Why hello little one.” You coo’ed, finger softly stroking the tiny plump cheek.

“Did you miss me?” Your face lit up with joy as the tiny infant stared back at you, mouth round as they let out soft coos.

“Wow that’s so interesting, tell me more!’ You smiled as Taehyung sat right next to you stretching to see the interaction between you and his child, heart bursting.

Hoseok listened to the entire conversation, a pain in his chest. Your voice full of love and excitement. You meant what you said. You had found your happiness.

Taehyung looked over to your phone, forgotten on the bed, the screen lighting up momentarily- Hoseok hung up. He sighed, relief washing over him. Hopefully- he heard everything. “I’m so proud of you.” He softly spoke against your temple, inhaling your perfume and leaving a small kiss.

“For what?” You knitted your brows before looking back at the child in your arms.

“Everything you do.” He smiled, not ready to admit to his eavesdropping. “You amaze me every day. You’re so strong and such an excellent friend, lover, mother, human being. I love you and our little family.” His eyes now teary as he looked down at your ring finger- the diamond still shining even in the dark. “I just think I should remind you any chance I get.” He shyly smiled before looking away.

Heat spread across your cheeks as you stared at him for a good moment, taking in his appearance. His honey toned skin looked absolutely mesmerizing in the moonlight as his dark waves bounced with every movement. His hand came up to stoke your child’s hair before they enveloped his thumb in their small hand. The small interaction had you bursting at the seams.

“I love you too.” You smiled before giving him a soft kiss, a smile on your face now focused on the child before you. A very heavy sigh you didn’t even know you were holding escaped, happiness was this very moment.

“She...” [name] stared off into space, struggling for word, bringing the bottle to his lips. “How could he do this? ” He threw his head back, taking a swig. His best friend and the love of his life. The word ‘mommy’ rang through his head.

She was right, a lot can happen in three years and he had just realized how long that time really was. He bit down on his lip, drawing blood. He hated himself completely as the bottle rested on his lips, another swig as it burned the fresh punctures.

Silence filled the messy room, bottles and cigarette buds littered the floor as he looked through his photo gallery, fresh tears landing on an old photo he took of you. You both changed and this time the roads didn't cross. His phone calls always set everything right. He promised himself to call again one day.

“I may hate this now but I hope I find what you have [y/n]. Then maybe I’ll thank you.”

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sharperthewriter · 3 years ago

Text

Chapter 3 of Possible-y Utah

Chapter 3 - Surprising the DrsP

(45 minutes later)

Kim looked around and saw that only 20 students still remained in the gym.

"Um...where did everyone go?" she asked.

"Maybe it's getting a bit late." Ron answered.

"Late..." Kim muttered to herself and then she gasped.

(Flashback, Six Hours Ago)

James cleared his throat and exclaimed, "Let's get a few things clear right up front."

Eric, without hesitation, replied "Oh, you read my mind, sir. Now, Kim explained that her

normal curfew is 10 o'clock but on special occasions and

rescue missions, you extend that to 11. I'd feel better

if we stick with 10."

(End Flashback)

"Rufus?!" Kim exclaimed.

Rufus came out onto the table and saluted.

"What time is it on the Kimmunicator?" she asked.

Rufus got out Kim's Kimmunicator from her handbag. It read the time: 12:18am.

Kim gasped, "Oh no!"

"What is it, KP?" Ron questioned, alert.

"I promised Dad that we would be back by 11pm and it's after midnight!" Kim exclaimed, "Oh no...he's definitely going to kill me for sure! I'll just send him a text on my phone, letting him know that me and Ron will be back at the house!"

"And there's the other little thing..." Ron interrupted her.

"Ron...must you compile the sitch a bit more?" Kim groaned.

"Sorry about that, Kim. How are we going to get a ride home?" Ron said. "We used the last bit of your brother's rocket fuel to get from BN HQ to the gym."

Kim then looked at Jessica, Monique and Tara on the table.

"Awww...you aren't coming to the post-prom party at my house? It has plenty of room!" Jessica insisted.

"Sorry, Jess." Kim replied, "I gotta get home to the 'rents. Maybe when Senior Prom comes around, we can do that."

"Okay, sounds like a good idea." Jessica replied.

"And I came in one of the stretch limos." Monique added.

"So that pretty much leaves Tara." Kim replied, eyeing the blonde's set of car keys.

"I got my drive's license last week, so I'll be more than happy to drive you two back to Mr. Possible's house!" Tara insisted on the request.

"Then that sitch has been settled!" Kim said, "It's been a long night for me and Ron and we do need to get back home."

(35 minutes later)

Tara's car drove the couple back up to the Possible house, which still had the FEMA-blue tarp on its roof from the Diablos.

"Thanks for the emergency ride, Tara!" Kim smiled with Ron in the backseat, wrapping his arm around her back. He also put his baby blue prom coat, around Kim's shoulders.

"A bon-diggety ride, to be exact!" Ron agreed.

Tara replied with a grin, "It's the least I can do, Kim, after you saved my puppy from the storm drain a couple weeks ago!"

"So not the drama, Tara! I always help people in need!" Kim agreed.

"Night, Kim. I'll probably see you on Monday at chemistry class." Tara said, putting her hands on the steering wheel.

"Same here!" Kim said. Both she and Ron got out of the back of the car.

Tara started up the car and drove out into the dark of the night.

"So...ready to break the news to your 'rents?" Ron asked, offering his hand.

"You know I am more than ready, Ron, even though I am probably going to be grounded for being late due to...you know...all that's happened tonight." Kim said, taking a deep breath, and grabbing Ron's hand.

The two, holding hands, walked up to the front door of the house. Ron knocked on the door three times.

The door slowly opened, showing James.

"Hello, you two!" James said before opening the door fully, showing them holding hands.

He paused for a moment at this sight and said, "I guess I have a great many questions to ask."

"You do, Dad. Where is Mom, by the way?" Kim asked.

"She is in the den, Kimmie-cub."

"OK, sounds good!" _

(12:56am)

The couple and James all walked into the den where Ann was waiting for them. She was in her teddy bear pajamas and bunny slippers.

When she saw both Kim and Ron holding hands, her eyes widened with joy and she began to squeal.

"James! You have to check this out! Kimberly and Ron are..."

"Yep, Mom! Me and Ron are officially BF and GF!" Kim proclaimed. "And I won as Junior Prom Queen!" she added, pointing to her crown and sash

"I'm very excited for you!" Ann exclaimed "Did you manage to get your first kiss?"

"Actually, Mom, we did! Monique was the one who took the pic!" Kim grinned, taking out her digital camera from her handbag. She scrolled the about 60 pictures she took during the dance. She got to the one where Kim and Ron kissed for the first time.

"Awwww...you two are so sweet in that pic!" Ann smiled.

"I totally like this!" James exclaimed, seeing the photo with satisfaction.

Then something came to his mind.

"What happened with Eric?" he asked.

"Ron, should we give him the long version or the short version?" Kim questioned to her new BF.

Ron and Rufus yawned and were rubbing their eyes. "Me and Rufus are about to crash."

"So short version of the sitch it is." Kim replied. "As it turned out, Dad, Eric was nothing more than a fake."

"We both meant that very literally..." Ron interjected.

"He was a Synthodrone created by Drakken to keep me distracted from his Diablo plot." Kim explained.

"And as it turned out, he was a liar too!" Ron exclaimed. "He claimed that he liked naked mole rats!"

Rufus then chittered angrily.

"Eric got a taste of his own medicine." Kim smirked, "Rufus bit him and he shriveled up like a prune with the scrambler in his hands. Destroyed the tower as well!"

"So Drakken not only managed to steal the Hepheastus project for those toys, he also nearly broke my daughter's heart?!" James growled, raising his fist at the blue tarp covering his roof.

"Yes, but thankfully, when the chips were down and I nearly gave up, Ron 'fessed his feelings for me!" Kim smiled, "And thanks to him, we stopped Drakken's scheme once and for all!"

"That's very good to hear." James said, "Now I think we should all go to bed. It is past 1 in the morning."

Kim then yawned, "Agreed, Dad!"

"I guess I'm going to be heading back to the ol' Stoppable abode!" Ron said.

"But first, a little good-night kiss for the road!" Kim grinned, giving Ron a kiss on the lips.

"Night, KP! This has been the best night of both our lives!" Ron replied with a wide smile across his face.

"You can say that again, Ron!" Kim giggled.

(20 minutes later)

Kim, now alone in her bedroom, began to yawn.

"Now...time for sleep..."

But before she could get into her bed, both Jim and Tim appeared.

Jim began, "Hey Kim, did you get..."

"...infected by the cootie monster?" Tim finished.

"No, I haven't, Tweebs!" Kim muttered, "And shouldn't you two be in bed by now?"

"It's the weekend! We usually stay..." Jim began

And Tim finished, "...up later than usual!"

"Now if you don't mind, we are..." Jim then began his next sentence,

"...going to work on our inventions." Tim added.

"I have the earplugs on standby just in case." Kim said, pointing to the earplugs on her nightstand. "Oh and Tweebs..."

Jim and Tim stopped for a moment at what their sister was about to say.

"Thanks for helping me and Ron out back there!" she said with a smile to the two. "Now good night!"

With that, the Tweebs left her behind and Kim turned out the lights, reflecting on the most eventful night of her life.

#kim possible #fanfiction #possible-y utah #ron stoppable #kim x ron #james possible #the tweebs #ann possible #tara #jessica #jim possible #tim possible

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haddonfieldhalloween · 5 years ago

Text

some happy Myers family au headcanons

because I have a weak spot for this and I can’t draw atm my first time writing out my headcanons and working up the guts to post them, hooray me

Laurie is referred to as Cynthia in this since that is her given name in the sibling timeline

Judith' birth is more or less an accident and not at all planned, Peter and Edith Myers were married, sure but hadn't settled in a nice house of their own yet, and weren’t even close to thinking about children (they are in their early twenties after all and living in a small, cheap flat, too many problems of their own to take care of a baby)

they live there for a while after Judith’s birth, because money is hard to come by but they start to eye nice neighbourhoods for the future (Edith really wants to move into a place where everyone knows one another, houses in a row, calm and secure streets)

Judith is a loud baby, she wails when she wants to be picked up and she giggles and giggles when her father hides and reveals his face to her

Edith always feels she's happier with having a child than Peter is, which is not to say that he doesn’t love Judith, but he's gone a lot to work and when he comes home he's often too exhausted to spend time with his daughter

Judith grows up just a little lonely and for a while she wishes, desperately for a sibling

It takes 10 years until Peter and Edith have another child and now they are in their 30s, settled in their jobs and in all honesty, this is probably the time they should've had Judith

They move to Haddonfield before Michael is born and it's all bits the small community that Edith imagined when Judith was born

On the day of Michaels birth, Peter is late. Judith (10 years old with springing blond curls and terribly excited to meet her sibling) calls for him all over the house before she finds him in what is to be Michaels room, setting up a crib he build in the hours he has after his job (He never knew he was a crafty person, but they still have to buy a proper bed in the end, mainly because Michael grows incredibly fast)

Peter and Edith feared Michael to be just as loud as Judith had been so Edith worries terribly when Michael does not make a sound when he’s born He's a very quiet baby, the doctors reassure them that their child is perfectly healthy but Edith catches herself waiting for Michael to cry (he doesn't, not when he falls and scrapes his knees, not when he's refused a piece of candy after dinner, he remains oddly quiet)

Michael doesn't talk a lot, he can but he doesn't, something that does not change all through his life

When Michael is 4, Edith is pregnant again. He doesn't really understand what's going on but he observes carefully and when his Mother holds Laurie (Cynthia, tiny and cooing softly, not a worry in the world), he gets on his tiptoes to see her better

Michael loves his sister right from when she's born and Cynthia will always be the most important to him out of the family (much to Judith’s dismay later in life. she jokes about it and talks it away with the large age difference between her and the others, but she envies their odd but close bond)

Edith and Peter work quite a lot so until Judith is 16 they hire a nanny to take care of their children when they are gone. It happens a little less in Cynthia’s first year after being born but they start working normally again when she turns 2

Judith has a lot better things to do than watch over her 6 year old brother and her baby sister, she’s thinking about her boyfriend, her two best friends, the new film in the cinema and that one set of paint she saw in the store the other day that would be so nice to work with if only her allowance would be a little bigger It’s a lot lot so find more under the read more (because I do not want people to have to scroll past such a long post when they look through the tags)

she's the first to be annoyed by it and try to get something out of it but her parents won't have any of it, it's her duty as the eldest after all

Michael feels like she neglects them when she is on the phone with her boyfriend the entire evening rather than reading a story to Cynthia or watching over him

If she'd at least leave the living room he could watch TV, he’s seen snippets of a horror movie when his father was changing channels one Saturday and has been wanting to get more of that ever since

It doesn't change until one evening, it’s a Halloween night, Michael stands in front of her, in a costume, refusing to take the mask that came with it off, holding out the bag he's dug up from one of the kitchen cabinets, silent demand she go trick or treating with him Judith is ready to tell him off but her boyfriend is quicker and he makes fun of Michael, Judith's weird, crazy little brother. She doesn't let that stand, she's the only one allowed to be annoyed by her siblings, and no one's going to get away saying something like this Her boyfriend doesn't return after that night, only once attempting to pass her a note in class that she ripped apart right away A bit out of spite and in part to make Michael happy, she takes him out that night. With Cynthia in one arm (she debated leaving her at home, after all Halloween isn't the holiday for a baby, but she also can't leave a 2-year-old alone, what if a murderer gets into their house) and Michael trailing along at her side, they walk the neighbourhood. Much to Judith' surprise, Cynthia coos happily and points at all the funky costumes that people dressed up in, seemingly enjoying herself quite a bit. In one yard, Michael finds one of those fake skeletons and rips of its boney hand (Judith is torn between laughing at the sight of a small clown stealing a plastic hand and telling him not to, it's theft after all) She doesn't really understand why he did such a thing until he gives the hand to Cynthia, who plays with the fingers, childish glee and interest written over her face Their parents find them late that night on the couch, all asleep. Judith in the middle with Michael leaned at her side, candy wrapping on his lap and a full bag of sweets to his feet, and Cynthia on her chest, drooling on Judith' shirt, holding a skeleton hand by the middle finger.

as they grow up and Michael is in school longer, it becomes evident that he doesn't care to make friends, he rather spends his breaks alone than engage with the other children

he isn't stupid, quite the contrary, his teachers attest to the fact that if only he would raise his hand more and participate in class, his grades were to show how talented he truly was

his best subjects are biology and art and these are the classes for which he actually works

Cynthia on the other hand loves learning, she’s way ahead of her classmates and sometimes she peaks into Michaels school books and falls asleep over text that Michael most likely never had even looked at

he just can't be bothered with a lot of things

he likes art however and its one of the things he and Judith have in common, even if their subjects are different (she likes landscapes, impressionism and Michael well...he makes these inexplainable drawings, often dark looking. And he likes making Masks)

Masks are one of Michaels odd little fascinations, earlier in his life he would demand Halloween costumes that came with them but soon enough those masks weren't good enough anymore. They just looked too cheap, or too boring or just not scary enough. So he went to make his own. The first ones were crude, paper mâché and painted with colours stolen from Judith (she grew terribly mad when she saw he’d used her expensive paint for this). But over time they became more and more complex and well crafted Sometimes he would put some on (he has his favourites, particularly one painted white, almost humanly shaped face with dark hair) and simply lay in bed, looking at the ceiling through the eyeholes

Another one of Michaels favourite pastimes became walking the neighbourhood out at night. He never did anything in particular or went any special location. He'd just go outside after nightfall, when most everyone was inside already and wander the streets of Haddonfield. Sometimes he'd stop by a well-lit window and stand just a few seconds watching the people inside, having dinner or sitting on the couch together.

Judith has moved out at age 22, to the city, she's never been too much of a small-town kind of girl, but she comes over almost every weekend It's not like their parents are up to anything special, they don't spend too much time with their children really but Judith likes to sit with Cynthia as she paints her nails and tells her about whatever it is she's learned last in school She can handle Michael better now that she's older, she feels like she understands him better now, even though she feels no one really understand Michael, not even Michael himself They don't do a lot of talking, most of the time she brings a painting she' working on and they sit in Michaels room in silence, both doing art

Michael is just as blond as his sisters when he is young, just as his mother once was, but he's the first one to go brown (Judith follows very slowly, her hair darkens more and more the older she gets)

He's also the tallest in the family, easily (his father claims it because Michaels grandfather was very tall as well). Early on in puberty he simply started growing more and more until at age 15 he had outgrown even his father

Michael doesn't explain himself, it’s a big part of who is: He never feels like other people have to understand why he acts a certain way. He does what he feels is right, what he wants to do and others are presented with his choices, to take them or leave them but never to understand, not by his explanation at least. After years of that, his family has gotten used to it, and accepted it for the most part.

his parents used to take him to therapists, they always felt his behaviour was a little off, but they had given up on it after a while, because Michael had refused to speak to the doctors, often not even allowing to be taken to see them For the most part they meet him once and suggest more sessions to Edith (she takes him every time, Peter has given up after the 3rd therapist), but nothing comes of it Even if Michael is dragged to another session, they cannot get anything out of him. It's hardly any use if your child does not want to be treated, Edith would hear a lot She thinks these people are all idiots but she is overwhelmed by exhaustion and worry until her husbands’ words get to her and she stops making new appointments

that is until Dr. Samuel Loomis comes into the picture Until this day everyone is convinced it's been Cynthia who finally convinced Michael to go by his own will. It's a rocky relationship for sure, Michael is 16 when they first meet and his parents had no knowledge of Michaels visit to the man, Cynthia dragging his hand Loomis is confused alright, at the sight of it but he can't well refuse to see Michael when his sister continuously shakes her head at him telling her he has to talk to their parents first (later, later, she says and when he calls the Myers house after the session, Edith is surprised to hear about what happened. It's a back and forth between Peter and her on whether they should pay for another therapist. Peter is sure Michael will blow it up again but Edith convinces him in the end. They do want the best for their child after all)

It's a hard task, for both Michael and Loomis, and there are hours of Loomis talking with Michael sitting in silence but it seems Loomis has Michaels interest enough for the teen to come in again (true to himself he never explains why, but Cynthia grows more and more certain it’s because in some way Loomis understands Michael in a way nobody does. And while it infuriates Michael it also is oddly calming to him. The world is hard to control and it’s even harder to interact with people that refuse to understand the way he works.)

When Michael is almost 17, his father attempts to teach him how to drive, but like with most things in his life it feels like Michael doesn't really care so Peter feels it's lost on his son It is only a few months later that he asks Cynthia if he should pick her up from a school trip, when she tells him Michael has already offered to drive her home, that he learns his son has a driver's license

Michael is very particular when it comes to contact with others. He doesn't like being close with people, there's something about it that's both uncomfortable and unnecessary to him. He knows he has desires, he knows he feels attractions sometimes, but he doesn't act on it for the most part. It's just too much most of the time.

Michael spends a lot of energy on controlling his emotions (he gets better at it the longer he is in therapy with Loomis, but it'll always remain hard, a challenge in itself that most people cannot understand). It is why he can't bother to indulge in anything like this, it’s not a priority Most people are just, too annoying, too much, they ask so many questions, he can't stand it (relating to other doesn’t come to him very easily)

He knows he's gay, not that he cares much for a word to describe himself (he doesn’t like to be pinned like that, in any way). He never feels the need to come out, tell anyone about it (like all things he doesn't explain any part of him), unlike Cynthia, who tells him she's bisexual one day (behind strong stance and steady voice he notices her fingers shaking, nervous)

Michael shows no intentions of moving out, even past age 18 and one evening when they lay in bed, Edith tells Peter that Michael should get the house. He tells her she's crazy, where are they supposed to go Somewhere warm and nice, Edith says, they are older now after all and Peter has gotten quite a few transferal offers. It's not supposed to happen immediately after all, but think about it, she asks of her husband. He turns around, not fathoming how his wife could suggest something like this (In the end they will move. When Laurie has moved out and they've found a nice new place, they leave Haddonfield and Michael stays in the old house in Lumpkin Lane. He never moves away. It's a constant he needs in his life. One of those things that he can't have change)

Cynthia is the only one allowed to poke fun at Michael. Really, she's the only one that can get away with about anything when it comes to Michael. Neither of them recall how they started but at one point they begin fighting one another. Michael is physically stronger than Cynthia but she is quicker and they both are excellent at reading what the other plans to do so most if not all their fights end up with them equal Cynthia likes the exercise of it, growing stronger as she gets older, and she believes there is some part of Michael that needs this, in a way that she can't understand Once Michael came to a fight wearing one of his masks and only that one time there is something frightening about him, and only this once she walks away with her shirt torn apart and one cut made by a knife he carried (its against the rules and he never brings one again but Cynthia doesn’t forget this moment ever again)

Michael eats whatever he can find first, he hardly has any preferences and often he doesn't care enough to cook himself anything (why put the effort into all of that when some toast and sausage works just as well, or that plate of spaghetti Cynthia has prepared herself). He likes sweet things though, a fact that both Judith and Cynthia know how to use to their advantages (it’s so hard to get Michael to do anything he doesn’t already want to do himself)

As always: Art and Writing/Headcanon requests are open!

#Michael Myers #Halloween #laurie strode #halloween movie #slasher #slashers #slasher movies #slasher headcanons #slasher imagines #michael myers headcanons #michael myers imagine #judith myers #michael myers au #halloween au #The Shape #dbd michael myers #myers family #halloween 1978 #haddonfieldhalloween.txt

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let-it-raines · 5 years ago

Note

Okay, now I know you're accepting prompts for the CMIYC verse, expect a whole lot of them coming from me 😂I'd LOVE to see Emma finding out she's pregnant, and her telling Killian, and just their whole journey through her pregnancy!

This isn’t going to cover everything you asked for @dorisquinn but I’ve got 2/3. You can send me all of the prompts you want. Honestly, seeing your enthusiasm as well as the enthusiasm of others to still want parts of this universe makes me so happy! You guys should see the timeline I just mapped out to make sure everything stays cohesive because I’ve got some more extras to write for you guys 🙈

found on ao3 | here |

-/-

March 2022.

“These boxes are never going to get unpacked.”

“We could have hired someone, you know.”

“I’m not even working full-time right now. There’s no need for us to have hired someone when all I’m doing is sitting at home.”

“You go to meetings…on occasion.”

“I have a meeting tomorrow. Stop making that look on your face, twenty-nine.”

“There’s not a look on my face, besides a handsome one.”

Emma huffs and falls back against the wall, sinking down onto the ground and pulling her knees to her chest. They should have moved as soon as last season ended. It would have given them more time to unpack the ridiculous amount of stuff they somehow accumulated over the past three years, but there was a problem with the closing and then the plumbing, and they officially signed for this place two weeks into spring training. Killian had to fly back from Florida for the paperwork, spent one night in the house with her where all they had was their bed set up, and then he went straight back to the hell that is Florida humidity.

At least they’re not there for months at a time in the summer. Everyone would die. It’s bad enough when they’re in Tampa for a few days at a time.

(Then again, humidity in New York in the summer is no joke.)

She could have flown down and stayed with him, already has for a few days here and there, but they need to get settled before the season starts and things get insane. Things are really never not insane, but there are definitely periods where there is a little more peace.

Off-season is undoubtedly her favorite season.

She loves baseball and the game and working almost every day, but having Killian home for months at a time and being able to sleep in their own bed instead of a hotel bed is so much better than anything else.

Emma definitely wants the off-season back.

And this house to be unpacked.

One of those things is more likely to happen than the other, and it’s not the house getting unpacked.

“I miss you,” Emma whispers into the phone.

“I miss you, love. You know you can fly down anytime, right? There’s nothing keeping you there. It’s been less than a week, but I miss you terribly.”

She flips the camera around to all of the boxes. “I don’t want to be living in chaos. I want, like, some kind of organization. I told myself that when I left my room key with you that I would not be flying back to Florida. I have to get this place functional.”“I know we’ve been married for nearly a year, love, but I don’t think you should be turning into me quite this quickly with all of that talk of organization.”“Technically, as far as everyone else knows, we’re only nine months into this whole marriage thing, so that’s not quite a year.”

“Specifics.”“Ruby was over here yesterday helping me unpack and found the pictures from the clerk’s office. I’m pretty sure she figured us out.”“I think David has known for awhile now.”“Why do you think that?”

“Just a hunch.”Emma groans and scoots further down on the floor. “If David knew, he would have said something.”“Aye, you’re likely right.” Killian smiles, his face slightly pixilated. “Come see me this weekend, Swan. I know you said no more flights, but maybe just the one more. I’ll take you to dinner. Wine and dine you and all that.”“I think there’s a third part of that proposition.”

Killian gasps and holds his hand to his chest. “Dirty.”

“You know it, twenty-nine.”

“I think you mean sixty-nine.”

“Oh my God.”

Killian chuckles and pushes his hair back. It’s too long again. He hasn’t gotten it cut in months, and as handsome as he looks, she’s desperately waiting for him to get it cut. Suggesting it hasn’t really worked out well for her, but if he likes it long, he likes it long. It’s not like she’d appreciate it if he told her to shave her legs or something like that.

“I’ve got to go to workouts, but I’ll call you again tonight, yeah?”

“I look forward to it. I love you.”“And I you, my love.”

The video lingers for a moment, and then it disconnects, only the memory of Killian’s smile there.

She misses him like crazy. It’s ridiculous and stupid and kind of annoying. Maybe she should go down and see him this weekend. It’s not like she has this weekend. Spring training is almost over, and she could wait it out. She really could. That’s what she’s told herself she’ll do, but should she if she doesn’t have to? Maybe if she gets enough boxes unpacked.

Hell, maybe she should just cave and hire people to do it for her, but she put up such a dumb fight when Killian suggested it that she doesn’t want to admit to failure now. Not that he’d ever truly judge her for it.

Okay. He’d judge her a little bit.

Her phone buzzes in her hand.

Elsa: You planning on letting me in?

Shit. The doorbell didn’t sound, and Emma didn’t hear a knock at the door. Quickly, she stands from the ground and kicks a box to the side before hurrying down two sets of stairs to get to the front door. She loves having more space than the apartment, but she doesn’t love all of the stairs. At least, right now. Soon she’ll hopefully kick ass at being able to walk up and down them quickly.

Hopefully her ass will look fantastic because of it too.

Damn Manhattan and its lack of space.

“Hey,” Emma greets after unlocking the front door. “Did you ring the doorbell?”

“I did.”

“Well shit.” Emma leans forward and wraps her arms around Elsa. “I guess our doorbell is broken too. Do you know anything about electrical work?”

“I know how to hook up our cable, but that’s about it.”

“Then what good are you to me?”

“I bring you donuts.”

“Bless you.”

“I know.” Elsa steps inside, closing the door behind her, and immediately walks toward the kitchen where she puts down the bag of donuts she’s carrying and then immediately starts looking around the room. “Have you unpacked any of the kitchen?”

“A few things. Mostly things I use. It’s all Killian’s, and he hasn’t really been here to tell me where to put anything. I don’t know his system as well as I should.”

“Do you have silverware out? Plates and bowls?”

“I have a few things but not all of it.”

Elsa sighs and pulls her shorts up and then adjusts her t-shirt. She took the day off to help Emma unpack, and, really, she should be lounging around watching TV or something. “I don’t mean to go all mom on you, but grab a donut. We’re about to unpack your kitchen. Then we move to your bedroom and your closet so you can at least function. Everything else will come later.”

“As long as I get a donut, this all sounds good to me.”

“You can have another if you finish this room.”

“I’m good with a bribe.”

“Incentive. It makes it sound less dirty.”

Emma laughs. “Deal.”

Elsa is some kind of unpacking machine. It’s actually ridiculous. She knows exactly how to store everything in their cabinets and the pantry, and while Emma is sure Killian will rearrange it all when he realizes it’s not to his specifications, after three hours, they have all of the kitchen boxes emptied. It’s practically a miracle, and Emma didn’t even need an extra donut to make her do the work.

(An extra donut is sounding really good right now, though. Elsa got the good kind.)

All she really needed was Elsa. If they had Anna here, though, Emma imagines the entire house would be finished by now. Well, if Anna wasn’t eight months pregnant. Mary Margaret would probably be the better choice, but she’s got a class full of third-graders to attend to. Ruby, however, would bring everything to a halt because she’d get distracted by the things she was unpacking.

They move upstairs and back to the bedroom after they’re finished in kitchen, and Elsa sticks to the bedroom while Emma works in the closet. She’s got some of her clothes up, mostly her workout stuff, and even though their stuff is boxed in a way that should make it easy to hang up several things at once, Emma keeps getting distracted trying to organize it in a way that’s not something she’s going to sustain.

Seriously. Who is organized enough to keep things sorted by color?

Killian. Killian is. He organizes his freaking t-shirts by how old they are.

The weirdo.

Emma finally decides to just do it by type of clothing, and after she’s gotten all of her dresses on the racks, she decides that she needs some kind of break. She did not sleep last night, and no amount of coffee could wake her up.

Has she even had coffee today?

Or maybe she’s simply bored by having to unpack. That’s a lot of the same thing over and over again, and all Emma really wants to be doing is watching Netflix.

Slowly, she slides back down to the ground and pulls out her phone again, answering her texts and then clicking on Instagram to move away the notifications. It’s all stuff Killian has tagged her in, and she quickly moves through the videos and memes before clicking on his page. It’s been mostly baseball lately, pictures of him, Will, and Robin, but if she scrolls a little further back, there are pictures of Liam and Elsa or Addy and Lucy. And then there are pictures of her. She mostly uses social media for work, but she does like to get on and see what Killian has posted. It’s usually something she’s never seen, and there are at least ten pictures on here that she had no idea were taken.

There’s one in particular that she likes the most. It’s from last November. They were in Portland for Thanksgiving sitting on the swing in Ruth’s backyard, and Killian snapped a photo of her drinking coffee, the sun glinting off of her skin in just the right way so that she looked tanner than she actually was.

My love forever, the caption reads.

That day had been…hard. It had been fucking awful, actually, but Killian had wrapped his arms around her and held her until it wasn’t so awful.

That’s what he does. He makes awful days feel that little bit better simply by being there.

She likes that, likes that she has that forever now.

My love forever.

She has had that love for awhile with David and Ruth, with her friends too, and while she doesn’t like to put some relationships over others, Killian does get the slightest elevation.

It’s good to have all that love. It’s healthy, and if someone asked her twenty years ago if she’d ever have any of this, she would have laughed in their face.

She can’t stop staring at the photo and all of the memories behind it. She had been so sure that morning, and it wasn’t…she wasn’t.

“Hey, Emma, do you have – woah, what’s wrong?”

“What?” Emma sniffles, wiping below her eyes. “What makes you think something is wrong?”

“You’re sitting on the floor sniffling and wiping your eyes. Those are pretty big clues.”

Emma scoffs. “I’m fine.”“You’re a liar.”“Els, I’m fine.”

“I believe you about as much as I believe Killian when he says that.” Elsa walks over to her to and slides down onto the floor next to her, kicking away a shoe and grabbing onto Emma’s forearm. “You want to talk about whatever it is? You know you don’t have to, but I’m a good listener. I couldn’t be married to Liam if I wasn’t.”

“Liam does talk a lot.”

“I think it’s a Jones family trait.”

“I think I might be pregnant.”

She might have that trait too for the way she just blurted that out.

Elsa gasps, and Emma braces herself for it just like she braces herself for it every time this conversation comes up. She’s the one who brought it up this time, but it was kind of inevitable when this is honestly all she’s been thinking about for two days now.

For a little more than two days if she’s totally honest.

“I didn’t…I’m not,” Emma stutters, trying to continue talking before she shuts herself up, “I never thought I would be someone who wanted a baby. I thought I was going to be alone for so much of my life, so when Killian and I decided to try and kept having these negative tests, I don’t know. I, well, it sucks, and it’s been really damn hard. It hasn’t even been a long time, and we’re still so young. I probably shouldn’t even complain because I know it’s harder for other people. It’s just that a part of me feels like I’ve gotten so much good in my life I was never supposed to get. What if this is the thing I don’t get? What if I have this feeling in my gut now because it’s some kind of sign that I should give up before my hopes get too high?”

“Oh, darling,” Elsa sighs as she wraps her arm around Emma’s back and pulls her toward her, rubbing her hand up and down her arm, “you can’t think like that. The world doesn’t give you a certain amount of good and then just stop. You can have more good than you think you deserve. I do. And that feeling of helplessness when it comes to getting pregnant and it not working as fast as you want? I’ve had that too. It’s what happened with Lucy.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I thought maybe Addison was going to be it for us, and we were like you two. We hadn’t been trying for a long time, but it could still feel hopeless when Addison was so easy. Getting pregnant is hard, and unless you talk to others like this, there’s no way you’d know. All you’d see is the happy announcements and the smiles.”

Emma turns her head into Elsa’s shoulder. It’s a good thing she’s not wearing mascara because she’d totally ruin Elsa’s t-shirt.

“So I’m not some kind of freak show for sitting in my closet freaking out about this?”

“Emma, having a baby, or even the possibility of it, is the most terrifying thing in the world. If you weren’t having meltdowns, I’d be concerned about you.”

“This is so not in my wheelhouse,” Emma mumbles. “I talk for a living, talking about this is…different.”

“Baseballs and babies aren’t exactly in the same category.”

“They are on Family Day.”“Yeah, well, you know what I mean.”

Emma huffs and pulls away from Elsa, leaning her head back against the wall. “This closet is still such a mess. My shoes are everywhere.”

“Oh, I know. I think I’m going to need to borrow those wedges that are caught up underneath the pile of Killian’s jerseys.”

“They are yours to borrow.”

“Not to keep?”

“Nah, I like them too much for that.”

Elsa laughs and twists on the ground until she’s facing Emma, small smile on her face. “You’re going to be okay. You and Killian both. And if you ever need to talk, Liam and I are always here. Anna too.”

“Anna is eight months pregnant with twins. All she does is warn people against getting pregnant. I don’t think she’s ever going to have sex again.”

“Can you blame her?”

“Absolutely not.”

Elsa claps her hands together. “Okay, let’s conquer this closet, and then I’m taking you home with me for dinner so you’re not left in this house stalking your husband’s Instagram.”

“I was not doing that.”

“You totally were. I could see it on your screen when I walked in.”

“I’m taking away your shoe privileges.”

Elsa quickly gets up and runs over to the wedges, picking them up. “Nope. They’re mine now.”

-/-

She’s pregnant.

Or, at least, that’s what the three tests she took this morning said.

Emma had gone over to Liam and Elsa’s last night for dinner, and she’d forgotten about everything. She really had, and it had been nice not to think about it and to be able to know that her life was going to go on no matter what. She knew that. Logically, she did. Her life is not defined by what a pregnancy test says, but when it’s what you want…

When it’s what she and Killian want.

And they might get now.

Oh shit. She is not ready to give birth.

That’s not even happening right now, or in the near future, but it’s going to happen. Emma’s pretty sure it’s some kind of torture device designed to make being a woman even more difficult, but she’s got to stop thinking of that right now.

What she’s got to start thinking about is the fact that she’s in New York while Killian is in Florida.

Florida.

Shit. She’s got to book a flight to Florida.

She said she wasn’t going to do it, but that was before she knew for sure.

That was before.

Where the hell is her neck pillow?

Emma gets off the rim of the tub and walks into the bedroom, grabbing her laptop off the charger and stretching out on the bed while trying to find the next flight. There are a few this afternoon, but she’s got meetings she can’t cancel. There’s one she might be able to make around seven, though, and she quickly enters her information and books a one-way ticket.

She’s never been so excited to go to Florida.

-/-

“Can I get an extra key to room 835?”

“And your name is?”

“Emma Jones.”

The receptionist starts typing on her keyboard, looking up at Emma and then looking back at her computer, her brows furrowed. “I’m sorry. There’s not an Emma Jones in that room.”

“I know. It’s my husband’s room. It’s under his name. Killian Jones. It should be under the block of rooms for the Yankees.”

“Ma’am, I’m sorry, but I can’t give you a key to that room. It’s our policy, especially when it comes to our VIP guests in our suites. It’s for their safety.”

Emma has to fight the urge to roll her eyes. She’s exhausted. It’s been a long ass day, she sat next to someone who snored the entire flight down here, and all she wants to do is see Killian. Why the hell did she leave her key with Killian last week?

Oh, yeah, because she wasn’t supposed to come back.

“If I was some kind of stalker, how would I know his room number?”

“You would be surprised what people know.”

She sighs and pulls out her phone, clicking on Ariel’s name.

“Emma?”

“Ariel, can you get me an extra key to Killian’s room?”

“Are you here?” Ariel squeals before quieting. “Wait.” There’s a mumble and then the sound of a chair squeaking before Ariel’s voice comes back into focus. “Sorry. We’re out at dinner, and I had to move away from the table. This is a surprise, right?”

“Mhm.”

“That is literally the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“You need to hear more things.”

“Oh, hush. I’ll call the front desk. We’ve got to be back soon anyways because I have to relieve the babysitter for Morgan, so it won’t be too long.”

“That sounds perfect. I’ll probably see you tomorrow, okay?”

“I can’t wait, and I promise that my lips are sealed.”

They hang up, and the front desk’s phone immediately rings. The receptionist nods and smiles and is completely and totally nice to Ariel, typing in a few things on her computer as she avoids eye contact with Emma. Then the conversation is over and Emma is being handed a card.

“This works for both the elevator and the room. Have a nice night, Mrs. Jones.”

“Thanks,” Emma says, forcing a smile. She knows the woman was just doing her job, but it doesn’t keep her from being annoyed. She’s not about to be pissy with her though. “Have a good night.”

Grabbing her luggage, she maneuvers out of the lobby and to the elevator. She knows this hotel better than any other hotel in the country from how much she’s stayed here, and she easily makes her way up to Killian’s room, sliding the card in the door and sighing in relief that the clerk actually gave her a key that worked. She was worried that she wouldn’t.

Killian’s suite is clean, and Emma knows it’s not just because of housekeeping. The man is so damn particular about everything, and even though all she wants to do is curl up in bed and go to sleep, she opens up her suitcase and starts putting her few clothes away, making sure not to mess with any of Killian’s stuff. It’s what he would end up doing later anyways, and if she does it now, it’ll be one less thing he’ll have to focus on.

How the hell is she supposed to tell him that she’s pregnant?

That’s something she should have focused on for the flight down here, but all she could think about was how much she wanted to murder the man who was snoring next to her.

She’s going to be great at the whole getting no sleep thing.

Did she really want this? Did they? Are they crazy? What drives someone to want to have a baby? Yeah, they’re cute, but then they grow up and yell at you for telling them not to eat straight sugar for dinner. And she didn’t have parents. Well, she has Ruth, but she didn’t have Ruth for fifteen years. Killian’s mom died, and his dad is a piece of shit. What do either of them know about babies and being parents?

What do either of them know about kids in general?

Well, they do have nieces and nephews and friends with kids. Hell, their friends have had so many kids. It’s like in the past two years all anyone has done is pop a kid out and –

The door to the suite beeps, and Emma doesn’t even realize she’s been pacing for a long time until Killian’s standing right in front of her blinking with his mouth wide open.

“Hi,” Emma squeaks out.

It’s official. She is not herself today.

“Fucking hell,” Killian mumbles.

“Well, that’s always the greeting a girl – ”

Killian strides forward and cups her cheeks before pulling her to him with his mouth, sucking on her bottom lip before he starts moving and can’t seem to stop. It’s been less than a week. That’s all. It hasn’t even been that long since they’ve been apart. They make it a point to never go more than nine days, but she’s missed him more than she ever has.

Melodramatic and all that.

“What,” he starts, still kissing her, “are,” he continues as his lips move to her jaw, “you,” he sighs against her cheek, “doing,” he whispers against her eyelid, “here?” he finishes as his lips find hers once more while their foreheads rest against each other.

“I really missed Scarlet.”

Killian tilts his head back and barks out a laugh as his hands move from her cheeks to her biceps, squeezing them. Her stomach is absolutely swirling.

“God, I love you. You’re – ” He shakes his head, and his eyes crinkle. He’s gotten darker during training, and there’s the slightest tan line from where he’ll wear his hat backwards during pitching drills outside.

“I’m what?”

“Well, if I were to list all of the things you are, I imagine we’d be standing here forever.”

Emma scoffs and pushes at his chest before moving closer once more so she can wrap her arms around his neck. “Why are you the way that you are?”

“Charming? I believe I was born this way.”

It’s Emma’s turn to shake her head at him. She presses up on her toes and lingers until her breath is ghosting over his mouth. “I love you, twenty-nine.”

“Good. I love you, Swan.”

She finally kisses him then, and Killian slowly backs her up to the bed until she’s falling down on top of it. All thoughts leave her mind as his lips and his hands move over her, and they truly disappear when his mouth is between her thighs and all she can think is how damn good that feels. It almost always does, like some kind of magic that’s bottled between the two of them, and even when it’s not good, Emma knows that there’s no one she’d rather get lockjaw or really unfortunate cramps with.

And weirdly, as Killian swivels his hips and hits just the right rhythm, she knows that no matter how much she’s freaking out about everything, the two of them have got this.

“Did you know the front-desk clerk thought I was a stalker?” Emma asks later. They haven’t changed back into any clothes, and Emma can’t seem to stop twirling Killian’s chest hair around her fingers while his hand dances across her back, tracing familiar words there.

“Really now?”

“Mhm. I tried to get a room key, and she refused to give me one.”

“Ah, well, I have been having an influx of stalkers lately. It must be my devilishly good looks.”

“You’re never lacking in confidence, are you? Even when it comes to joking about something that’s not funny.”

“You would know more than anyone how that isn’t true.”

Emma leans down to kiss his chest before resting her chin there. The air conditioner clicks on, and a cold rush of air runs over Emma’s bare skin. Killian tugs the comforter up over a little more of her back, and they sit in silence as Emma starts counting how fast her heart is beating. If she doesn’t tell him tonight, she won’t sleep. It’ll eat at her until the morning, and with how exhausted she is from not sleeping two nights in a row, she really can’t afford another night without sleep.

She also hasn’t had coffee in days. That has sucked.

“Killian, I – ”

She stops when his finger traces her name into her back. “What is it, love?”

“Nothing,” Emma begins, even if she knows it’s everything. “It’s just…Killian, I’m pregnant.”

For the rest of her life she’ll remember that Killian stopped blinking for a few seconds too long. She’ll remember that his eyes are slightly red-rimmed from his own lack of sleep, and she’ll remember the way that slowly but surely his lips curl from a small smile to one of the brightest she’s ever seen from him.

“Are you? For real? I’m not imagining this conversation?”

Emma inhales and nods. “I think so. I wouldn’t be far along. Like, at all, so anything could happen. But my period is late, and I took, like, three tests this morning that were positive. Peeing on a stick never feels normal.”

Killian chuckles as his free hand comes around to tuck her hair behind her ear. He’s so gentle like that, and she doesn’t know what she did to deserve him. He can be hot-headed and impatient and ready to act on his anger instead of thinking it through, but at his core, Killian Jones is a good man.

“Aye, I imagine not.”

He leans down to glide his lips over hers, and even if Emma had imagined what it would be like to tell Killian they better start reading all of those books so they have some clue what they’re doing, she knows none of it would be better than this.

Calm and content and like they were always supposed to end up here.

“I love you, Swan,” Killian whispers as his hand shifts from her back to her stomach. “I don’t – thank you for being by my side for all of this.”“Always, twenty-nine. Always.”

-/-

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#catch me if you can #cs fic #cs ff #cs fanfic #captain swan ff #captain swan fic #captain swan fanfic #captain swan #dorisquinn

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secretlynestaarcheron · 5 years ago

Text

COLD AS ICE

Figure skating x hockey player

TWO: Cassian and The Bet

Cassian ran a hand through his wet hair as he makes his way back out towards the locker room, he throws his towel over his shoulder as he unlocks his locker. “Hey Cas, are you coming to the party tonight?” I heard a rumor that Tamlin might be there,” Rhysnd says from where he was sitting on the bench slipping on his shoes.

Cassian rolls his head, he was already feeling the tension in his shoulders from the stress semester, “I don’t know man, I’ve got a ton of homework and I don’t really feel like getting involved with Tamlin before the game this weekend.”

“Never thought I’d hear the day that Cassian Monte would say no to brawl, who are you becoming?” Tomas cheers from the other side where he changes despite not doing much throughout practice besides sitting on the bench. He was only on the team because his father donated the new bleachers.

Cassian looks over at Rhysand with a deadpan expression, growing up in foster care made Cassian a fighter but once he joined the hockey team in highschool where he met Rhysand and Azriel he had a new reason to fight. The only reason he was at this school working towards a degree in engineering was because of hockey.

He wouldn’t let his scholarship be taken away because of some fight off the ice or a bad grade in an easy class, Rhysand understood it but unfortunately not a lot of the rich kids on the team did. “I got an eight am tomorrow, why don’t you come have a few drinks and then we can head back to the apartment together?” Azriel chimes in, being the voice of reason as always.

Cassian frowns, rubbing his chin, “Okay, but text me when you’re heading over and if I haven’t gotten a load of my homework done its a no from me,” he retorts, slipping on his jacket and leaving the locker room.

As he makes his way towards the exit, he stops short when he sees Nesta sitting down on the bench in front of the rink, ear muffs and scarf pulled tightly around her neck. She had her knees to her chest as she clutched a book in front of her face.

He stepped forward, grabbing his keys from his pocket, he felt the need to go out there and talk to her. To pick on her, or maybe to offer her a ride home. He shakes his head at the thought, she was probably waiting for Mor or possibly her own personal driver.

He steps out in the cold making his way towards the parking lot where his beat up jeep was, it was a typical cliche but it was cheap and he needed transportation to take his gear all over the place. He jumps into the front seat, quickly sticking his key into the ignition before blasting the heat.

Once his mirrors are set and he can feel his hands, he pulls out of the driveway, looking over the bench in front of the rink where Nesta was gathering her stuff and moving towards the bus. He furrowed his brow, watching as she smiled at the bus driver chatting as she handed him her card. She had a transportation card. He curses himself for assuming that she was waiting on a personal driver.

There was more to her than he thought, he figured the blonde hair and figure skating made her the prime stereotype for rich white girls. There’s a beep and he looks in his rearview to see Rhysand sticking his hands up in confusion.

He waves apologetically before turning towards campus, where he was going to seat himself in the library and knock out the rest of his homework. His phone chimes after a couple hours and he looks up as someone shushes him, smiling apologetically, he grabs his backpack and answers the phone as he exits the library.

“Yeah, I know, I am heading home now,” Cassian retorts before the person even said hello.

“I am glad you just now remembered,” Azriel says on the other side but he was chuckling, “Where are you? I’ll just pick you up from there.”

“He’s probably still in his loungewear from after practice he is not going to a party in his joggers and teeshirt,” Rhysand calls out from the passenger seat, “He’ll come home and change, I don’t care if you’re late.”

Cassian rolls his eyes, “I am at the library,” he says.

“Cool, I’ll see you there,” Azriel retorts earning a groan from Rhysand. He leans against the wall, flipping mindlessly through Instagram while he waits for the slick black car to pull up. He finds himself pulling up Nesta Archerons page, he was trying to know more about her.

There were pictures of her with Mor, dressed up for parties or hanging in the quad, as well as a few of her competing, she looked angelic on the ice. He scrolls far enough down that he stumbles upon a picture of Nesta laying down on a hospital bed her head against an older lady who looks just like her. The lady is talking with a bright smile and Nesta looks over at her with sparkling eyes.

Cassian was familiar with the bright blue cap on the ladies head and all the IV’s, he was there when his own mother had passed away from cancer, he scrolled down her captain only a yellow heart, the comments full of condolences. Her mother had passed away as well. He takes note of the date it was posted, six years ago today.

He felt weird, he honestly kind of felt like that guy Joe from that stalker show. She posted on her instagram for all of her followers to see but he still felt like he was invading her personal space, as if he wasn’t welcomed.

“Stop spacing out and get in the car, it’s already six!” Rhysand yells. Cassian looks up to see him halfway out the window, waving wildly at his friend. Azriel shrugs in the driver seat as Cassian jumps into the back. “What were you so deep in thought about?”

Cassian runs a hand through his hair, “All the organic chem homework I am going to have to do when I get home at eight,” he says.

Rhysand laughs, “Like you're actually going to get home by eight,” he chuckles, reaching forward to turn up the music before Cassian has any objections.

Rhysand grabs his shoulder before moving past him into the house, it was already bumping full of intoxicated college (and probably some highschool) students and bland techno music. “Nesta! Nesta! Nesta!” a group of college kids in the back chanted catching the attention of Cassian as he moved his way through the crowd.

She sat on the kitchen island, taking shot after shot of some unknown liquid that happened to be neon blue. She took the last one, punching her hands into the air as she turns to the crowd letting out a loud cheer. The crowd cheers along with her but quickly makes their way deeper into the party aside from a few college guys who linger around her.

“People don’t know it but you’re such a crackhead,” Mor says as Nesta moves off the island, stumbling into Mor’s shoulder as she regains her balance. She looks up, her bright green eyes catching his, she pushes herself up keeping contact with him. “What? What are you looking at-Oh, Cassian,” Mor says, turning to face him, moving a hand around Nesta’s waist. “This is the last time I DD for her.”

Nesta rest her head against Mor shoulder, he wonders if she’s always been like this at parties or if it had anything to do with her mom. He had seen her at parties before, finding a dark corner and pulling a book from her bag to read. He had never seen her like this but he never really gets out much either.

“Amren!” Mor yells, groaning loudly, “God, why are both of them such bad drunks? Could you watch her while I grab Amren? I really hope I am not this bad when I am drunk.”

She pushes Nesta towards him, as she pushes through the crowd to find Amren, another figure skater on the team. He holds her up, looking around the room deciding what he should do next. His eyes fixate on a girl across the room talking with Rhysand, she had the same dirty blonde hair as Nesta as well as the same facial expressions.

Rhysand looks over at her, gaining the attention of the girl as well, her eyes widen and she bolts away from Rhysand who looks after sadly. “Cassian?” Nesta murmurs, looking up at him, blinking to regain focus in her eyes, she pushes his arm around her. “What are you doing here?”

“Babysitting you, apparently,” he says with a roughness that’s a little too sharp. She blinks up at him, her arms dropping to her side, “Wanna go outside?”

She looks up at him before nodding, she follows behind him towards the back door, Cassian didn’t know whose house this was but they would have a giant mess to clean up tomorrow morning for sure. He lead her over to a porch swing, she fell into it putting a hand against her forehead.

“My 9:30 class tomorrow is going to suck,” she murmurs, her head moving to the side, as she closed her eyes. He pushed off his foot, moving the swing lightly back and forth, “Who’s idea was it to have a party on a thursday?”

“Probably those kids from Autumn Court, their parents paid for their degrees so they don’t need to worry about class,” he hums, leaning back and looking up at the dark sky, “You know, I am still mad about your post.”

She groans, turning to look at him, “Seriously? If your team could have scheduled another practice anytime that day, but you chose to pick the two hours we were in there,” she says, pushing herself into an upright position staring down at him. “I want to see you do what I can do, you couldn’t even if I trained you.”

He raises an eyebrow, “Okay, deal.”

She frowns at him, running a hand through her tangled hair, “What do you mean? Deal? I didn’t make a deal with you?” she says, her speech quickly sobering up. “I don’t want to make a deal with you.”

He rubs his chin, “The game against Spring Court is this Sunday and so is your conpetition, you teach me to figure skate and I’ll teach you how to play hockey, first one to quit loses,” he retorts, “This way we’ll both learn how to appreciate each other's sports.”

She looks down at his extended hand, before grabbing it, “Deal, I hope you like losing. Balancing on one leg while wearing a revealing costume is a lot harder than hitting a puck with a stick.”

He rolls his eyes, turning as the door opens, he frowns standing up quickly, “Tamlin, what are you doing here?” he says, squaring up and blocking Nesta from his view. He looks down at the small frame beside him, the familiar girl that Rhysand was talking to earlier.

“Cassian,” Tamlin says, his lip curling into a smile, “Haven’t seen you in a long while, I am sure you’ll go back into hiding when we beat you this weekend.”

Cassian feels a shove and Nesta is standing in front of him, her eyebrows furrowed, “Feyre Archeron, what the hell are you doing here,” she growls, her eyes on fire as she looks at Tamlin, “Do you realize that she’s seventeen?”

Feyre frowns as Tamlins arm falls from where it was around her shoulder, “Way to kill my vibe, Nes, some sister you are,” she snaps, turning on her heel angrily and running into the house.

“Don’t you run away from me, we are having words, just because dad doesn’t care anymore doesn’t mean you can do something stupid like that!” she yells after her, following her through the open door, disappearing into the crowd of people.

“That’s pretty sick, man,” Cassian says turning back towards Tamlin who shrugged in response, “It’s not like we did anything, besides she’ll be eighteen soon enough. Her sister is pretty firey, maybe I’ll have her entertain me until Freyes birthday,”

Cassian gripped his fist, his nails piercing the hard skin in his palms, “I’ll see you on Sunday,” he says calmly, before pushing past him and back into the house looking around for Rhysand or Azriel. He had wasted enough time here.

Comment to be tagged!

Tagged: @awesomelena555 @catwomancabello @sannelovesreading @candid-confetti @gendryaforthemasses @musicmaam @skychild29 @empress-ofbloodshed @8emmy @overgrown-bat

#nessian #nessian fanfiction #Nesta archeron #Cassian #sjmaas #figure skating au #feyre archeron #elain archeron #morrigan #amren #actoar fanficition #acotar #actoar #acomaf #nessian au #nessian instagram au #instagram au

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sincerelymarinette · 5 years ago

Text

A Recorded Life (38/50) - Miraculous Ladybug

Words: 1110 Chapter Summary: With only a little time left before the gala, Marinette does a live stream to work on her design. Alya and Adrien accompany, and the fans find a specific gossip article that outs the heroes. Author's Note: I hope everyone is staying safe out there! Sorry for no update last week, it was a crazy and stressful week and I needed the weekend for a break. But we're back! I'm really excited for the upcoming chapters and I still love writing the fan comments so much.

Prev / Next / Masterlist

Live Gossip

---

Marinette had a camera set up facing her mannequin, which was in front of her chaise lounge. On the chaise lounge were Alya and Adrien, so Marinette had backup while she worked on her dress for the gala. She needed backup, mainly for the reason that it was the first time she had ever live-streamed creating a design.

Sure, she had posted so many design videos and tutorials she couldn't even keep track of it anymore. But she had never been live while working on anything, only the occasional one with Alya for a question and answer game.

Adrien and Alya were eating the snacks as Alya watched the comments on Marinette's YouTube live-stream. She was reading off comments, compliments, and most questions that came up to keep the commentary entertaining. Of course, the banter between the three of them was just as entertaining as well.

"This person asked what you're making this dress for," Alya asked. "I think you explained it at the beginning, but a lot more people have joined now."

"Oh!" Marinette said and turned to the camera. "Well, Adrien invited me to go to the Agreste Gala in about two weeks because he knows how much I love fashion. So, I have to make my own gown." She explained. "It's going to be a really fun event, and I'm excited."

Alya groaned. "I can't believe I couldn't get a press pass. It's unfair!"

"Yeah, but trust me, it wouldn't have been your scene," Adrien shrugged.

"Are you kidding me?" Alya asked. "Any place I can get a good story is my scene. Besides, you do know who helps Marinette with her fashion channel, right?" Alya smirked.

Adrien awkwardly chuckled and scratched the back of his neck. "Ah, I guess you have a point there. Can...we go back to questions?"

"Sure, this one is for you!" Alya said. "Have you been modeling less lately?"

Adrien shrugged. "Well, I guess I should probably address it. I guess I've kind of taken a break. You know, I don't want to endanger anyone by being out and doing photoshoots. I still do some, sometimes, but I haven't been living at home recently, so planning them is kind of hard. I'm still doing fencing, though!" Adrien explained. "Hey, Mari, want me to model your dress?"

Marinette giggled. "I think I can handle this one."

"Next question is asking if you guys have planned anything for Adrien vs. Jobs?" Alya asked. "For the record, I better be invited to some of those. They'll be fun."

"Oh yeah!" Adrien started. "We're going to be doing the first one soon. I don't know if we should spoil anything, but I'm really excited," Adrien said.

Marinette stepped back to look at her work in progress. "Yes, it's going to be so much fun!"

Adrien kept seeing his name appear in the chat, and he read as fast as he could to try to understand why the fans were freaking out.

Adrien you're not living at home?? are you ok?

what happened to adrien?

Adrien where are you staying if you're not staying at home

did gabriel do something because I will fly to paris right now and fight him myself

why aren't you living at home?

omg are you staying with marinette because i SHIP IT

adrien, are you okay? I get not modeling and stuff, but what happened at home?

Adrien pointed at the comments and Alya read along. "Guys, don't worry. I'm okay, and it's just better for Marinette and me to stay together. Plus, getting muffins for breakfast is the best part of it all," Adrien said.

"It's been fun. He's been helping my parents with dinners, and we play a lot of video games," Marinette smiled at the camera and stepped back to admire her piece. "It's getting there. What do you guys think?"

While the comments flooded with praise to Marinette, there were a few critiques and others demanding pictures of her and Adrien at the gala. Her fans loved seeing her work and also listen to her and her friend's bicker, but then all of a sudden, a link was being spammed in the comments.

"Hmm, what's this?" Alya asked and clicked on the link as all three of them gathered around the screen. Marinette gasped loudly when she saw the picture come on the screen with the headline "LADYBUG KISSES CHAT NOIR AFTER AKUMA ATTACK? WHAT ARE THEY HIDING?" from an American gossip blog.

Marinette composed herself and took a deep breath. "You guys know how I feel about talking about my superhero side. Let's just get back to the dress and talking."

Adrien shared a concerned look with Alya as they reset and went back to normal. "Uh, Mari, the chat is kind of going crazy."

Marinette sighed and went over to the computer again to read what everyone was saying. Adrien knew it was best if he stayed quiet, he didn't want to say anything he would regret or make Alya or Marinette mad, or even make the whole situation worse. Being quiet was the best choice.

OMGRNJAWKDNWJ THE K I S S THEY'RE TOGETHER THEY'RE TOGETHER

THE SHIIIIIIIIPPPPPP

OHMYGOSH THEY ARE SO TOGETHER? I MEAN, ADRIEN LIVING WITH MARINETTE, HER PARENTS LOVING HIM, HIM MAKING DINNER, THEM GOING ON DATES AS VIDEOS, ITS BEEN A THING FOREVER!

i love them so much im so happy theyre finally together

omg!!! couples tag!! with alya and nino!!

the picture is SO CUTE! when did you guys start dating??

Marinette stood back in front of the camera. "All right guys, we've got to get going. Thanks so much for tuning into the live stream to see me work on my gala dress! I'll be sure to show you guys the finished product, too. Make sure to check us all out on social media to keep updated, and I'll see you in the next video!" Marinette ended, and Alya shut off the live stream.

Marinette sighed loudly as she sat on the chaise lounge next to Adrien. "Well," Alya said, "At least you guys have talked about it, so it's not as awkward," She tried to help.

"She has a point," Adrien said, "People were bound to find it sooner or later. Might as well address it now," Adrien added.

"I guess so," Marinette shrugged. "So much for keeping it a secret," She giggled and grabbed her phone.

"What are you going to do?" Alya asked.

With a smirk, Marinette scrolled through her tweets until she found the one from a few months back.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng @MarinetteDC I am dating Adrien Agreste. I am dating Chat Noir. I know Chat Noir's identity.

Alya Césaire @alyacesaire @MarinetteDC WE STAN A CONSISTENT QUEEEEEEN

Adrien @AdrienAgreste retweeted @MarinetteDC

And the fans went crazy.

---

@lady-of-the-roses-and-lilies @bookishserendipity03 @avatheexceed @gkz10 @coccinellegirl @kat-thatoneweirdo @strawberryblondish @snow-swordswoman @lilgaga98 @evufries

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5sosbitchfest · 5 years ago

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Alrighty, Nonsters. We currently have 290 Asks in our box! As much as we might try, I know there is NO WAY we’re going to be able to get through all of them. Everything exploded this weekend when MessyGate went down! I don’t want to ignore any asks just because I already answered a similar one. So, I’ve tried to gather as many similar Asks as possible to let your your voices be heard. Y’all are definitely NOT alone in your feelings. Get ready for a lot of opinions on Messy’s Twitter Drama.

Also, if you sent in an Ask and we haven’t answered it yet, please feel free to resubmit it! I do try to scroll through all of them but it is a daunting task and personal stuff and work make it difficult for me to get through everything in a timely manner!

********************************

Anonymous said to 5sosbitchfest: I’m really disappointed in Luke and this band in general, the way they deal with things. “honest policy” with messy? So he knew all of this and it was okay? Or he confronted her on this and he is okay with what she has done? I’m not sure this whole thing would be a deal breaker for me, but it certainly would make me real mad at my SO and some whiny excuses wouldn’t be enough to make things alright. Radio silence would’ve been much better than that story he posted, made himself look like a fool.

Anonymous said to 5sosbitchfest: These girls will sooner or later become their downfall if their management or them does not realise they should rely on other things than bringing relationship up front to sell their music. I find it extremely bad that they are behaving as if nothing happened, I hope there will be changes once touring will be possible again and we won’t see these girls tagging along everywhere or being brought up in interviews all the time but somehow I’m not counting too much on that.

Anonymous said to 5sosbitchfest: I wonder if Luke knows everything that Messy got exposed for or just the parts Messy wanted to show him. Bc Luke said in his Story that he wasn't online lately so maybe he wasn't on Twitter too and Messy just showed him the parts that make her look good and he still doesn't know that she spoke bad about Ashton or how she stalked the fans also after she knew that they didn't hack his email adress cause he wasn't on Twitter so he couldn't see the screenshots.🤷‍♀️

Anonymous said to 5sosbitchfest: I'm just waiting for the day one of them date someone who isn't a part of their circle. tired of them passing around the same toxic girls.

Anonymous said to 5sosbitchfest: These girls are just digging a whole for these guys and they want be able to get out of it soon

Anonymous said to 5sosbitchfest: It was a chicken move for Sierra to do it as a reply and no one has talked on twitter that she deleted it because they probably think her deleting it is saying it wasn’t true

Anonymous said to 5sosbitchfest: Am I the only one who thinks that guys really only heavily interact with us when they want to promote something or say something about the music? I do understand they have lives so being on Twitter isn't number one priority and with all the drama that surrounds this fandom its very easy to not want to be online a lot, I just can't help but feel that way

Anonymous said to 5sosbitchfest: I'm talking about this messy situation (no pun intended) with my friend and she said to me that Messy should consider changing her career if she can't handle that not all people are going to like her. (that ofc doesn't include any form of harassment bc that's not cool)

Anonymous said to 5sosbitchfest: I really don't know how to feel about the Luke situation. At first I was upset and disappointed of Luke but now I almost pity him bc real or not either the management would want Luke to defend her or Messy. And I think Luke isn't the kind of person who would stand up against the management or Messy (even though it would probably be better for him if he would). And most people don't realise when they're in a toxic relationship so I can't really blame him. I just hope this ends asap.

Anonymous said to 5sosbitchfest: I literally was so angry and frustrated with Luke and this whole situation yesterday that I couldn’t even look at him on my home screen, I had to change it. It’s really a disappointing thing to witness. Whether management put him up to this or he genuinely believes this toxicity is okay, I’m just very grumpy with him at the moment. He deserves better and WE (the fans) deserve better.

Anonymous said to 5sosbitchfest: I think Luke really needs to be in a relationship with sb who either isn't famous and doesn't want to be or with someone who is famous bc they have a successful career too and who doesn't need Like to be famous.

Anonymous said to 5sosbitchfest: I’ve only seen a few accounts on Twitter who are attacking Messy and Crusty to the core and exposing every bad thing they’ve done with receipts for the sossies defending them! I’m happy that karma is finally getting to those con artist who think they can get away with anything

Anonymous said to 5sosbitchfest: that recent lierra picture is photoshoped lmao. if you look at Sierra's hand you can see color coming off from it and her arm looks hella weird.her forehead looks hella weird and look couldn't have taken the picture because I doubt that he could stretch his arm that far and make a perfect picture. also we haven't even seen Sierra's face so I still don't believe they're together

Anonymous said to 5sosbitchfest: The Lemon pic was like a punch in the face (even though Petunia and Luke are looking cute there). But I've been asking myself lately if Luke has seen the whole drama going around on Twitter or just the posts Messy wanted him to know so the ones who make her look like the victim (and not the ones where she insulted Ashton or she made it clear that she stalked his fans). Cause Luke said he hasn't been online lately.

Anonymous said to 5sosbitchfest: I mean we dont know how much of the story he truly is aware of and how much s changed to fit her narrative and get L to feel bad for her. Plus he was under pressure from management to do damage control and not standing up for his gf is a very bad look for outsiders who dont understand why she's at fault. It was a pretty neutral statement and he was obviously told to make the post so I dont blame him and just blame her more for putting him in the situation in the 1st place

Anonymous said to 5sosbitchfest: I wonder how much toxicity happens behind the scenes, we know S is very manipulative and L is very much a people pleaser so.. and with how much they have to sell their "love" and "happiness" in the relationship. Minipulation is a powerful thing and it could explain why hes out of touch with reality, especially lately since he's isolated with her and doesnt have the voices of the band to raise any concerns and he's been getting skinny again and seems very "meh" rather than happy, idk

Anonymous said to 5sosbitchfest: I feel so disconnected with this fandom rn. I feel like no one is streaming CALM and that makes me sad bc it's such an amazing album. The boys aren't even online anymore, everyone is mad at each other and now Luke comes up with this shit... tbh I wish I would wake up tomorrow and see him tweeting something like yeah I'm sorry about my ig story I still love y'all lmao

Anonymous said to 5sosbitchfest: Wait wait wait wait ive been gone from the fandom for a little while now and what the fuck is going on with Luke and S? What did S do that she made a fake ass apology for?? I’m so lost please help me! 😂

Anonymous said to 5sosbitchfest: I'm seeing a lot of my mutuals unstanning and I'm just so mad bc Sierra started this drama and got Luke into it and I'm sad that people are leaving bc of this, it's just too much toxicity and it shouldn't affect the band and their connection with the fans but with Luke saying this he makes it seem like he supports the ugly things she does

Anonymous said to 5sosbitchfest: I am a Luke stan and I've always loved him bc he has inspired me so much through the years but when he does this things it's like...damn. I feel like he's invalidating the fans' feelings by being like "if you don't like my girlfriend, ur fake" like he has never noticed me on Twitter or anything but my biggest fear is to be blocked by him or just ignored bc I don't like her (although I never expressed it publicly) n yeah anyways :// It feels weird

Anonymous said to 5sosbitchfest: Going back and re-reading the DM’s messy literally confirms that she accesses Luke’s account by saying “we couldn’t get in” or some shit like that

Anonymous said to 5sosbitchfest: I hate being a luke stan, sometimes it just seems like he doesn't care? he always puts these toxic gfs before the ones who adore him and pay his bills. might just move into Cashton's lane. unproblematic kings.

Anonymous said to 5sosbitchfest: He literally posted a picture of him cuddling her and petunia within the hour

Anonymous said to 5sosbitchfest: The saddest part of this situation is it’s like a repeat of Arzaylea. Luke has no idea what a respectful, mature relationship is. We saw it with Arz and were seeing it again it’s just a little bit different. He stays being controlled and manipulated by toxic partners. I really think homeboy needs to be single for a WHILE and focus on himself. He needs to unlearn the things his past and current relationships have taught him about love because if I know anything, it’s that this ain’t real love.

Anonymous said to 5sosbitchfest: Is it bad that I just want the larzaylea drama back?? Like everyone could at least agree on their feelings then...

Anonymous said to 5sosbitchfest: Just checked messy’s insta and of course, everyone that still supports her filled her tagged with just the single picture

Anonymous said to 5sosbitchfest: I feel like the reason Sierra is getting away with what she’s done is because she isn’t that known. Like yeah she’s associated with 5sos, but they’re also like not that big which is probably why it’s getting swept under the rug. I’ve only seen the 5SOS fandom calling her out for her actions. If this had happened with a well known celebrity, they probably would’ve been dragged and been trending on Twitter. I might be wrong but I feel like this is what’s happening which is just unfair.

#kirby #luke #lemon #messy #messygate #messy's twitter drama

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whatkatetoldme · 5 years ago

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What if I don’t want to work out during quarantine?

SCENE:

It’s a random day in April. The unpredictable New England weather has provided a respite to some sunshine, so you’re sitting on the porch reading A Love Story About Vampires Or Some Shit (at least this is an explanation of what’s on my current reading list…don’t judge). You’ve been stuck at your parents house for almost 50 days, unable to leave. You’re day dreaming about the day when you can get within 6 feet of your friends again. Or work *at work*. Or pass a stranger on the street without everyone rushing to opposite sides, glances quickly averting to the ground so as not to look at each other. Just in case.

“Hey buddy!” the 40-something “hip” neighbor shouts at your dad who’s doing yard work, distracting you from your pre-apocalyptic musings. “Crazy times, huh?”

“Yeah, for sure! Like a movie!” Dad responds.

The neighbor nods and immediately walks away, not daring to cross the invisible grassy threshold that separates your yard from his. Just in case.

“WELCOME TO TWO-THOUSAND TWENTY!” an over-zealous announcer shouts from the abyss, introducing the latest reality show. “WHO WANTS TO BE IN QUARANTINE?”

______________________________

It’s easy to say that no one could have seen this coming. That we were all caught completely off guard, unable to stop the fire once it started. But the truth is that scientists have been fearing a global pandemic for years. The response of those “in charge” was simply inadequate.

*EVERY DISASTER MOVIE STARTS WITH THE GOVERNMENT IGNORING A SCIENTIST*

However, this isn’t a let’s-debate-politics-until-we’re-red-in-the-face-and-nothing-else-matters blog post. What Kate Told Me is back (for the first time in two years) because we need to set the record straight:

There’s no RIGHT way to deal with the tumultuous emotions you’re probably feeling right now.

In my mindless and aimless scrolls through social media (you do it, too!), I’ve seen post after post of friends and acquaintances, strangers and celebrities living their various new realities and coping with the upheaval of their previous lives. And it looks different for everyone.

Many of us have lost jobs. Some of us have had our school years cut short. And some of us are, or live with, essential workers who must put their safety on the line every day.

I’ve seen many posts about using this time in quarantine to work out, learn a new craft, bake banana bread (MORE banana bread?!), or learn a language (seriously?). These are amazing things to do with your time and if this is what you’re doing, I applaud (and envy) you.

The reality for many people, however, is that coping with pandemic anxiety and depression may not look like this. Scrolling online, I found myself looking for validation that not being super productive was okay. I couldn’t find that validation (or did I think I needed absolution?) so I stopped looking. I took a nap, woke up, ate some Cheez-Its, and started writing this.

But that IS coping. Today, right now, that is what my body needed. It’s been what I’ve needed a lot lately: quiet time spent reading, napping, or listening to music. We are just so conditioned into thinking that giving anything less than 110% all the time is unacceptable. We find some pseudo-comfort in our 50+ hour work weeks. Being hyper-busy and always “on” is akin with being in a constant state of survival mode — it’s protective.

But our lives have been upended. I lost my job. I haven’t hugged a friend in almost two months. We’re constantly being fed different information between the news and social media. We’re encouraged by the President of the United States not to trust the media. We are being fed information at an alarming rate in a time where support is stretched as thin as it can go.

So if coping for you looks like it does for me — napping, reading, listening to music — then I think you’re doing pretty damn well.

At the end of the day (I hate when people end shit like that but here we are), this monstrosity of a situation is our current reality. The hard part is the uncertainty. We went from knowing what the next day would hold to cringing whenever a news alert pops up on our phones. We went from dates and weekend plans to fearing close proximity to other humans. Our current reality is that of a Stephen King novel - but the book isn’t ending.

It will though. We will some day, somehow, emerge from this with the fibers of intense change woven into the fabric of our society. And maybe that’s a good thing.

Until then, go enjoy your nap.

XOXO but from 6 feet away,

Kate

P.S. Margs when this is over?

(Image credit: me.me)

#covid #covid19 #coronavirus #new reality #quarantine #lockdown #coping #coping mechanisms #coping strategies #anxiety #depression

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goodnightkisseu · 5 years ago

Text

Do Kyungsoo - Tender Care

→ pairing: kyungsoo x reader

→ genre: fluff

→ word count: 2229

→ warnings: none~

→ summary: an unfortunate accident restricts the use of one of your hands, but what happens when Kyungsoo finds out about it...

→ masterlist // exo masterlist

note: I wrote this a couple months back after talking to Chelle ( @prettywordsyouleft ) and today, it’s finally posted! Sometimes, you just need a Kyungsoo at your side to make you feel better. I hope you all enjoy this~!

- ash <3

It had been an unlucky accident. Still, you didn't expect such a little mishap to put you out of commission like it had. A little over two months ago, you received a letter of notice from your apartment complex, stating that your lease was ending. They gave you the option to re-sign, at an increased rate, or to let them know of your plans to vacate the apartment at the end of your lease. Truthfully, the building was a really nice one. It was a bit pricey, but given its location and the fact that it was central to a handful of shops and restaurants that you frequented, you thought it was worth it. Plus, it was even close to the bus stops that you used to get to and from work. That was rare in the area.

You probably would have stayed and avoided the entire incident that had befallen you... if it weren't for your neighbors. When you had moved into the complex, the apartment next door had been empty. You had a unit in the corner of the complex, and everyone that lived in that area had been rather quiet... until the school year started. Your complex was near a university, so it was natural for university students to flock to it when they were looking for a place off-campus. However, it was just your luck that a rowdy group of college boys moved in next door.

At first, you thought it would be manageable. You told yourself that the boys were only loud because they were still getting settled into their new home. But as the months passed, it only got worse. They threw loud house parties, both on the weekends and weekdays, the ridiculous volume of their music made our walls tremble. Their guests were equally obnoxious, even sometimes knocking on your door and mistaking it for the party apartment. It was no surprise when those around them started to move to other parts of the building or just different complexes altogether. With your lease ending, the rent skyrocketing, and the possibility of finding a quieter place, you were more than happy to put in your letter of notice, letting the building manager know that you would be leaving at the end of the two months.

After a bit of searching, you found it. You found the perfect building.

It was on par with your last apartment in terms of the amenities it offered. The people, while you were there, seemed quiet enough. The rent was slightly cheaper, and it even shortened your current commute. You couldn't pass up the opportunity for such a place and were quick to sign the paperwork. However, knowing that there would be initial deposits on top of your first month's rent, you felt like you didn't quite have it in your budget to splurge for movers. Instead, you did what everyone did when they needed to move. You called up some friends, and to your luck, they agreed to help. In hindsight, you should have just paid for those movers.

While you, Chanyeol, and Jongin were moving the couch, you had lost your footing while you were trying to get it situated in the right spot. With only two people properly supporting it, the large piece of furniture started to swivel towards the wall, pinning your hand against it. You let out a cry, and the boys were able to quickly regain their grip on the massive object, putting it down and rushing to get an ice pack on your hand. Though you were lucky that the large object didn't come ramming into you, the boys still drove you out to the urgent care to make sure that nothing was broken.

Luckily, nothing was fractured. It was, however, severely bruised, and would no doubt making working and unpacking difficult. The doctor suggested that you shouldn't do anything strenuous as it would only make the injury worse. So, when the three of you got back, the boys moved the rest of your things into your new home and told you to wait for your boyfriend to help you unpack. You agreed, though, the moment they left, with how stubborn you were, you started sorting through your things on your own. After all, anything that didn't require heavy lifting should be okay, right?

This was also a mistake.

Though you didn't feel any initial pain or complications, when you woke up the following morning, it was the complete opposite. Your hand was throbbing, and you couldn't even close it enough to pick anything up, much less work. You had to call in that morning to let your boss know that you would be of no use if you came in. They told you to take it easy and to allow your hand to heal. They would loop you in by phone for meetings if they needed you. So, now you were stuck at home, sitting on your couch, scrolling with one hand through your phone as you waited for your boyfriend to arrive for the third straight day in a row.

When Kyungsoo had initially heard about your injury, he had been shocked. He asked if you needed him to be there immediately, but you had told him, at first, that everything was fine. It wasn't until he stopped by on the second day that he saw how bad your hand was, even though all you could muster was a sheepish smile. He sighed at the sight of it, telling you to relax while he took over your unpacking tasks.

And though it was nice to have his help, you realized that Kyungsoo was a bit different than usual. In between each box, he unpacked as per your directions, he would come over and check on your hand. He would ask if it was okay, and he would even... fuss over it. You heard him make a comment about how swollen it was before disappearing into your kitchen for another cold compress to replace the one that you had been using on it. Whenever you would need to go somewhere, he was instantly at your side, helping you to your feet. He told you that you shouldn't put any unneeded pressure on your hand. Though the gestures were sweet, you had to admit it was all a bit overwhelming.

It had been a few months since the two of you started dating, and this wasn't the Kyungsoo you were used to. You were still trying to get to know each other, and up until this point, your boyfriend had honestly been a bit... aloof. He wasn't the type to be overly doting or to quickly say that he loved you. He wasn't big on skinship, so things like physical touch were few and far between. But you knew that Kyungsoo cared about you. It was all through his actions, in his gestures. He'd send you a message daily, hoping that you'd have a good day, even if things weren't going well. He'd suggest dinner at nice restaurants when he thought you could both use a break. You liked that he was like this. That he was aware, but kept things simple.

These last couple of days, however, he had been... overly attentive. He was by your side, helping you to put on your brace. Whenever you would reach for something with your injured hand, he'd dart in and grab it for you. When you tried to sit down, he would give you support so that you didn't have to use your hand. And though the gestures were sweet, they were a bit much. You could still function on your own, and your hand was getting better. He didn't have to overdo it like this. It honestly got to the point where you couldn't take it anymore. It felt a bit suffocating.

"Kyungsoo, stop," you told him when he reached for the tea that was sitting on the table in your stead, placing it into your uninjured hand.

"Stop what?" he asked, blinking at you, waiting for you to take the drink from him.

"Stop this," you said, gesturing to him with both of your hands. Though it wasn't a significant action, you couldn't help but wince when a dull sting ran through your hand. You saw his eyes widened as he tried to reach for it to make sure that it was alright, but you quickly pulled it away from him.

Kyungsoo sighed, reaching for it again. "Let me see it. I just want to make sure that it's alright," he countered. Yet, when he heard you huff, and that subsequent look of annoyance crossed your features, he stopped himself.

"I've told you so many times that it's getting better. The pain isn't nearly as bad," you shot back, knowing that your words had a bit of an edge to them. You didn't mean to lose your temper. You were just... you were upset that you couldn't move around and work like you used to. It was frustrating. You paused, taking a deep breath to calm yourself down before you continued. "Look, I noticed that you've been more attentive lately, and though I don't hate it, it's a little overbearing."

"I'm not overbearing," he replied, hearing you sigh in response.

That was that infamous stubbornness of his. You had learned about it pretty early on in your relationship. Honestly, it rivaled your own at times. "You are, Kyungsoo," you insisted, gesturing for him to sit beside you on the couch. "Look, I know that my hand is injured, but you're treating me as if it's fallen off or something. It's going to heal. You don't have to… you don't have to…"

"I don't have to what?"

"You don't have to treat me like I'm a fragile piece of porcelain. I'm not some damsel in distress that's in constant need of help," you finally said.

Kyungsoo fell silent, processing your words before he spoke again. "Is that how I've been making you feel?" he asked, seeing you nod in response, a sigh escaping his lips. He didn't think that he was overdoing it, but obviously, his actions demonstrated otherwise. "I'm sorry."

Gently, you placed the tea down on the nearby table, your uninjured hand reaching out for his. "I know you mean well, but... it's hard for me. I'm used to doing things on my own, and slowly, I'm able to again. I know it's not fully healed, but I find it hard to sit around doing nothing. It makes me feel inept. I won't lie. I do love the extra attention, but I can still be independent too..."

Your boyfriend gave a small nod. "I know. I just... worry about you a lot. Honestly, when your lease was ending, I thought about asking you to move in with me. I liked the idea of having you close by, but you had already signed the paperwork for this place. That was all fine. It's good for us to have our own space," he explained. "But, when I found out that you had gotten hurt, my heart dropped. I couldn't help but tell myself that this wouldn't have happened if I just asked you to live with me, or if I were available to help you move. I thought the only way I could show you that I was sorry and worried was by helping you like this..."

You smiled, starting to understand him a bit better. He wasn't doing it because he thought you couldn't do the tasks. He was doing it because he wanted you to get better quicker. "But I already know that you care about me, Kyungsoo. You do it whenever you send me a message. You do it when you tell me to have a good night when we get off the phone. I know how you feel about me, and you shouldn't feel obligated to go out of your way to do more just because of an injury that was out of your control," you told him softly.

"I know, I just wanted you to know that I cared," he said quietly, placing a tender kiss on your forehead. When he pulled away, his eyes were greeted with the most beautiful smile gracing your lips. And, on impulse, he leaned in to kiss your lips.

You reveled in the simple gesture, in the feeling of his warm lips on your own. The moment he pulled away, you couldn't help but pout a bit. "And I feel the same about you," you told him.

He smiled, thumb gently rubbing the top of your uninjured hand. "I know that you just said that you were getting better, but why don't you let me make us dinner tonight, hm?" he suggested.

"Wait, you cook?" you asked, taken aback but his sudden proposal.

"I do. Quite often, actually."

"And why have you never told me this before?" you inquired, still in disbelief.

"I needed to make sure that you loved me for me, and not just my amazing cooking," he teased gently, a smile gracing his lips before he headed into the kitchen.

And as your boyfriend started to dig through your refrigerator, you realized that your relationship with Kyungsoo just became more intimate in its own way. And honestly, you were eager to see where this would lead you...

#do kyungsoo #kyungsoo #exo #exo scenarios #kwritersworldnet #kpop scenarios #exo imagines #exo fluff #kyungsoo scenarios #kyungsoo imagines

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bunteatime · 5 years ago

Text

aramika coffee shop au pt. 1

ok so!! ive had this au in my head for like.. 5 months now and i luv it sm so i decided to turn it into a lil fic!! im still workin on tha story but i couldnt wait 2 post it so here is part 1..

(also!! apologies if this is written poorly!! its one of tha first times ive ever tried to like. seriously write)

Part 1: Arashi’s POV

Arashi took a step forward. She was standing right in front of a small cafe. It was located in the middle of the city so it was usually quite busy. However, she had arrived just before opening. She smiled and tightened her work apron.

She wasn’t normally too fond of the idea of working but there was just something so romantic about working in a coffee shop. She had read so many books about two lovers meeting in a coffee shop and the thought of meeting the love of her life while at the cafe practically made her swoon. What if she met the love of her life today? What would they look like? Would they sweep her off her feet the second they saw her? More importantly, would she even realize who they were before it was too late?

Quite suddenly, she snapped out of her daze and look around. Focus, Arashi, she told herself confidently. She stepped inside the cafe and was instantly greeted with the smell of coffee beans and Leo waving at her.

“Hey, Naru-chan!!” He said almost too excitedly considering how early it was.

“Hello hello Leo!” she giggled and waved back.

Just then, Izumi walked in while glaring at his phone. Arashi could’ve sworn she heard him make a little tch sound.

“Oh, hi Izumi! What’s wrong?” She frowned.

“Tsukasa won’t be coming in today. Apparently, he fell ill.” He huffed back.

“Ah, well that’s alright. We still have the four of us!” She attempted to comfort him. Izumi could get worked up so easily, it seemed.

“Three of us. Ritsu slept in again and knowing him he probably won’t show up until the end of the day.”

Arashi sighed and looked at her phone. They only had about ten before the coffee shop opened. She would be extra busy today, considering there were only three people working that day. She wished that she could’ve been sick too, so she could just sit at home and paint her nails all day rather than spend it making coffee. She didn’t mind too much though; the pay was really good and with that, she could go out shopping this weekend. She got behind the counter and scrolled through Instagram to pass time.

“Oh! Before I forget, Naru-chan, there’s gonna be this guy coming sometime around now with a bunch of pastries for the shop! I thought I’d be the one to accept them from him but Izumi-chan said he wanted to ‘talk finances’ with me so would you do it for me?” He smiled brightly at her. She seriously didn’t understand how he could be so peppy at 6 am on a Monday.

“Of course, dear! Leave it to me.” She winked at him and smiled.

Leo suddenly got really serious. “If I’m not back in an hour, just know that I died of boredom listening to Izumi talk about stupid adult things.” He said in a scared tone.

Arashi giggled and pushed him towards the back. “Yes, yes, I’m sure you’ll be fine.” She responded.

Leo went into the back and it was officially opening time. Looks like I’ll be all on my own this morning, she told herself with a sigh. She walked over to the front of the store and flipped the sign on the front door to the side that said “open” in a cursive font. On her way back to the counter, she straightened some of the chairs and unwrinkled the tablecloths. She was curious over the pastries Leo had mentioned. She assumed they were from a new store than they usually bought their pastries because the usual store wouldn’t send anyone to drop them off.

The first twenty or so minutes after the opening of the store went well. She had about ten customers come in, all of which looked like college kids wanting to study before class. Just then, the door was opened rather loudly and a boy with shaggy greenish-black hair stumbled in. He was carrying a large box with him and seemed to be out of breath. Did he run all the way here? He was wearing a black sweater and jeans, despite it being the middle of summer. He came up to the front counter and set the box down. The moment he looked up at Arashi, she almost gasped. He had absolutely stunning eyes. One was a beautiful ocean blue while the other was golden. Arashi wondered what they called that. Heterochromia? Was that right? She’d have to look it up later. His eyes were so captivating that she felt like she couldn’t look away.

“Uhm, hello! What can I get for you today, babe?” She asked.

“Well, uh, ‘m not really here to buy anythin’. Coffee ain’t really my thing… too bitter.” He stuck his tongue out a little bit as he said that. “I dunno if you know but I’m here to deliver some pastries!” He rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

As soon as she heard him speak, Arashi felt butterflies in her stomach. Fate had just set her up with the absolute cutest boy she’s ever seen and she was so happy. She was absolutely enamored with him. His accent was absolutely adorable and the way he looked down and played with his sleeves shyly as he explained the situation to her made her think that she might die from a cuteness overload. He was just so cute! She’d known this boy for maybe 60 seconds and she had already unashamedly fallen head over heels for him. He was perfect.

He looked back up at her and they stared at each other for what felt like a blissful eternity, before looking back down awkwardly. His face was bright red. Oh how absolutely adorable he looked when he blushed like that.

“I, uhm, I should go… Oshi-san’ll be real mad at me if ‘m not back soon..” He said shyly. It might’ve been her imagination but Arashi could’ve sworn she heard a little regret in his voice.

“Oh, yes, yes of course!” She responded quickly. “Thank you so much for the pastries!” She smiled.

He smiled back at her and began to walk away. Right as he was about to open the door and leave she spoke up again.

“Also… Your eyes are absolutely gorgeous, babe.” She winked at him and watched as his eyes widened and his face went tomato red again.

“Th- thank you…” He said quietly and proceeded to leave.

She giggled and sighed as she rested her hand on her head. She was in love, wasn’t she? That was the prettiest boy she had ever seen and with only one interaction between them, she had fallen in love. She wasn’t complaining, though. She absolutely loved the feeling of butterflies in her stomach as she thought about the next time she would see him.

“Arashi, you’re slacking.” Izumi’s voice spoke behind her. She could almost feel the glare she knew he was giving her.

“Oh my god, Izumi! You won’t believe what just happened.” She said excitedly.

Part 1: Mika’s POV

Mika sighed loudly and rubbed the back of his neck. He had been up since four making pastries. He was starting to get sick of the sweet smell, but he knew Shu would be mad at him if he stopped working.

“Oshi-san,” He whined. “Can I have a break yet?” He was really hoping he could get out of there soon; today was supposed to be his day off but Shu had called him in suddenly. Although, that wasn’t too odd for Shu to do.

“Actually, yes. You have to take this box of pastries to this cafe, though.” He handed him a piece of paper with an address written on it in cursive handwriting. “Do not be late, Kagehira. You’ll ruin our business’ reputation.”

“Will do, Oshi-san!” Mika responded happily. He picked up the box and practically ran out the door.

Once he was outside, he sighed happily. He was glad he wasn’t inside anymore. He hurried over in the direction of the store, however, he got lost along the way. He somehow ended up in the shopping district and couldn’t find his way out. Shit, he panicked. Oshi-san’s gonna get mad at me if ‘m late. It took him a while, but he finally found his way to the coffee shop, however, he was ten minutes late. He would’ve been later if he hadn’t run the whole way. Maybe Shu wouldn’t get as mad at him if he lied and said he had just wandered around after taking the pastries to the cafe?

He went to pull the door open, but it wouldn’t. He tried again and it still wouldn’t open. He tried a third time before reading a sign that said “push” right next to the door. He embarrassedly pushed the door open and stumbled inside the store. He glanced up at the girl at the register and immediately looked down. Oh no, she was pretty. Like, really pretty. Stunning, even. He felt embarrassed. He walked up to the counter and set the box of pastries down before mustering up his courage and looking back up at her.

Oh god, he was right the first time. She really was pretty. Her eyes were sparkling. They were a deep purple and so so pretty. Her hair was beautiful, too. She looked so effortlessly stunning and it honestly took his breath away. Her smile was stunning, too. She radiated warmth and he found her presence to be oddly comforting, despite knowing her for thirty seconds.

“Uhm, hello! What can I get for you today, babe?” She said. Did she.. Did she just call him babe? He was falling for her so hard and so fast it almost scared him. He never considered himself the romantic type, but this girl made him feel butterflies in his stomach.

“Well, uh, ‘m not really here to buy anythin’. Coffee ain’t really my thing... too bitter.” He stuck his tongue out and he heard her giggle at that. He immediately blushed and started fidgeting with his sleeves. “I dunno if you know but I’m here to deliver some pastries!” He gestured at the box and rubbed his neck with his hand. It was a nervous habit of his to do that, and he sure was nervous right now. He really hoped that she didn’t find him weird.

He looked back up at her and as soon as their eyes met, he felt those famous butterflies that he didn’t know existed outside of stories. Her eyes were deep purple and stunning. He couldn’t look away. She was smiling at him and it seemed so comforting. He felt like he could stare at her for an eternity and still be as blissful as he was at this moment.

He looked down nervously and could feel the heat rising to his cheeks. He suddenly remembered that he had to get back to the bakery or else Shu would be angry at him.

“I, uhm, I should go… Oshi-san’ll be real mad at me if ‘m not back soon..” Mika said, trying not to show how sad he felt about having to say those words. The way she had gazed into his eyes was unlike the way anyone had looked at him before. He constantly felt as if people were judging him for his eyes. That he was weird for his mismatched orbs. Due to this, he absolutely hated them. He resented them and they made him feel terrible.

This girl, though, she was different. She didn’t judge them, in fact, her gaze was so full of wonder. She was looking at him with so much kindness and warmth that he thought he might melt right then and there. She made him so happy, which was completely absurd considering he had known her for maybe three minutes.

“Oh, yes, yes, of course!” She responded, quickly looking away. She smiled brightly at him. “Thank you so much for the pastries!”

Oh, god, she was so pretty. He started to walk away and right as he opened to door to leave, she called out to him.

“Also… your eyes are absolutely gorgeous, babe.” She winked at him. Oh no. Oh no, oh no. Mika had tried so hard during the entirety of their conversation to keep calm and seem cool but he couldn’t handle it anymore. His face immediately went as red as a tomato, despite his wishes. That was the first time anyone had complimented his eyes before. He was shocked. This whole time he had absolutely hated his eyes. But for the first time, he liked them. They made him happy. And it was all because this girl, whom he had undoubtedly fallen in love with, had complimented him with complete sincerity.

“Th-thank you…” He stuttered. He clumsily opened the door and walked out. He just knew that he had to tell Shu about this girl when he got back to the shop.

When he arrived back at the shop, he suddenly stopped right in front of the door. “Shit, I forgot to ask her name..”

#aramika #arashi narukami #mika kagehira #kagehira mika #narukami arashi #enstars #ensemble stars

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